the library uni versity of the nimininin omnibus artious sina de smnune minnesota re bar- being a record of certain happenings that occurred in the otherwise peaceful lives of one hopalong cassidy and his companions on the range by clarence edward mulfcrd with four illustrations by n. c. wyeth and f. e. schoonover a. l. burt company publishers new york copyright, , by che outing publishing company à entered at stationer's hall, london, england all rights reserved bar- in compliance with current copyright law, the univer- sity of minnesota bindery produced this facsimile on permanent-durable paper to replace the irreparably deteriorated original volume owned by the university library lm ob bar- chapter i buckskin t Ć - - dawson p.l, fit* "he town lay sprawled over half a square mile of alkali plain, its main street depressing in its width, for those who were responsible for its inception had worked with a generosity born of the knowledge that they had at their immediate and unchallenged disposal the broad lands of texas and new mexico on which to assemble a grand total of twenty buildings, four of which were of wood. as this material was scarce, and had to be brought from where the waters of the gulf lapped against the flat coast, the last- mentioned buildings were a matter of local pride, as indicating the progressiveness of their owners. these creations of hammer and saw were of one story, crude and unpainted; their cheap weather sheathing bar - warped and shrunken by the pitiless sun, curled back on itself and allowed unrestricted entrance to alkali dust and air. the other shacks were of adobe, and reposed in that magnificent squalor dear to their owners, in- dians and “greasers." it was an incident of the cattle trail, that most unique and stupendous of all modern migrations, and its founders must have been inspired with a malicious desire to perpetrate a crime against geography, or else they rev- eled in a perverse cussedness, for within a mile on every side lay broad prairies, and two miles to the east flowed the indolent waters of the rio pecos itself. the distance sepa- rating the town from the river was excusable, for at certain seasons of the year the placid stream swelled mightily and swept down in a broad expanse of turbulent, yellow flood. buckskin was a town of one hundred inhab- itants, located in the valley of the rio pecos fifty miles south of the texas-new mexico line. the census claimed two hundred, but it was a well-known fact that it was exagger- ated. one instance of this is shown at the buckskin name of tom flynn. those who once knew tom flynn, alias johnny redmond, alias bill sweeney, alias chuck mullen, by all four names, could find them in the census list. furthermore, he had been shot and killed in the march of the year preceding the census, and now occupied a grave in the young but flourishing cemetery. perry's bend, twenty miles up the river, was cognizant of this and other facts, and, laughing in open derision at the padded list, claimed to be the better town in all ways, including marksmanship. one year before this tale opens, buck peters, an example for the more recent billy the kid, had paid perry's bend a short but busy visit. he had ridden in at the north end of main street and out at the south. as he came in he was fired at by a group of ugly cowboys from a ranch known as the c . he was hit twice, but he unlimbered his artillery, and before his horse had carried him, half dead, out on the prairie, he had killed one of the group. several citizens had joined the cowboys and added their bullets against buck. the deceased had been the bar best bartender in the country, and the rage of the suffering citizens can well be imagined. they swore vengeance on buck, his ranch, and his stamping ground. the difference between buck and billy the kid is that the former never shot a man who was not trying to shoot him, or who had not been warned by some action against buck that would call for it. he minded his own business, never picked a quarrel, and was quiet and pacific up to a certain point. after that had been passed he became like a raging cyclone in a tenement house, and storm-cellars were much in demand. “fanning" is the name of a certain style of gun play and was universal among the bad men of the west. while buck was not a bad man, he had to rub elbows with them fre- quently, and he believed that the sauce for the goose was the sauce for the gander. so he had removed the trigger of his revolver and worked the hammer with the thumb of gun hand” or the thumb of the unin- cumbered hand. the speed thus acquired was greater than that of the more modern } the " buckskin double-action weapon. six shots in three sec- onds was his average speed when that number was required, and when it is thoroughly understood that at least five of them found their intended billets it is not difficult to realize that fanning was an operation of danger when buck was doing it. he was a good rider, as all cowboys are, and was not afraid of anything that lived. at one time he and his chums, red connors and hopalong cassidy, had successfully routed a band of fifteen apaches who wanted their scalps. of these, twelve never hunted scalps again, nor anything else on this earth, and the other three returned to their tribe with the report that three evil spirits had chased them with “wheel guns” (cannons). so now, since his visit to perry's bend, the rivalry of the two towns had turned to hatred and an alert and eager readiness to increase the inhabitants of each other's graveyard. a state of war existed, which for a time resulted in nothing worse than acrimonious sugges- tions. but the time came when the score was settled to the satisfaction of one side, at least. in bar_ as no four ranches were also concerned in the trouble. buckskin was surrounded by two, the bar and the three triangle. perry's bend was the common point for the c and the double arrow. each of the two ranch contingents accepted the feud as a mat- ter of course, and as a matter of course took sides with their respective towns. better class of fighters ever lived, the trouble assumed homeric proportions and insured a danger zone well worth watching. bar- 's northern line was c 's southern one, and skinny thompson took his turn at outriding one morning after the season's round-up. he was to follow the boundary and turn back stray cattle. when he had covered the greater part of his journey he saw shorty jones riding toward him on a course parallel to his own and about long revolver range away. shorty and he had "crossed trails " the year before and the best of feelings did not exist between them. shorty stopped and stared at skinny, who did likewise at shorty. shorty turned his buckskin mount around and applied the spurs, thereby causing his indignant horse to raise both heels at skinny. the latter took it all in gravely and, as shorty faced him again, placed his left thumb to his nose, wiggling his fingers suggestively. shorty took no apparent notice of this but began to shout: “yu wants to keep yore busted-down cows - on yore own side. they was all over us day afore yisterday. i'm goin' to salt any more » what comes over, and don't yu fergit it, neither." thompson wigwagged with his fingers again and shouted in reply: “yu c'n salt all yu wants to, but if i ketch yu adoin' it yu won't have to work no more. an' i kin say right here thet they's more c cows over here than they's bar- 's over there." shorty reached for his revolver and yelled, “ yore a liar!" among the cowboys in particular and the westerners in general at that time, the three suicidal terms, unless one was an expert in drawing quick and shooting straight with one bar - movement, were the words "liar," ** coward,” and “thief." any man who was ealled one of these in earnest, and he was the judge, was expected to shoot if he could and save his life, for the words were seldom used without a gun coming with them. the movement of shorty's hand toward his belt before the ap- pellation reached him was enough for skinny, who let go at long range—and missed. the two reports were as one. both urged their horses nearer and fired again. this time skinny's sombrero gave a sharp jerk and a hole appeared in the crown. the third shot of skinny's sent the horse of the other to its knees and then over on its side. shorty very promptly crawled behind it and, as he did so, skinny began a wide circle, firing at intervals as shorty's smoke cleared away. shorty had the best position for defense, as he was in a shallow coulée, but he knew that he could not leave it until his opponent had either grown tired of the affair or had used up his ammunition. skinny knew it, too. skinny also knew that he could get back to the ranch buckskin house and lay in a supply of food and ammu- nition and return before shorty could cover the twelve miles he had to go on foot. finally thompson began to head for home. he had carried the matter as far as he could without it being murder. too much time had elapsed now, and, besides, it was before break- fast and he was hungry. he would go away and settle the score at some time when they would be on equal terms. he rode along the line for a mile and chanced to look back. two c punchers were riding after him, and as they saw him turn and discover them they fired at him and yelled. he rode on for some distance and cautiously drew his rifle out of its long holster at his right leg. suddenly he turned around in the saddle and fired twice. one of his pursuers fell forward on the neck of his horse, and his comrade turned to help him. thomp- son wigwagged again and rode on, reaching the ranch as the others were finishing their breakfast. at the table red connors remarked that . . bar - the tardy one had a hole in his sombrero, and asked its owner how and where he had re. ceived it. “ had a argument with c out'n th' line." “go 'way! ventilate enny? " one.” “good boy, sonny! hey, hopalong, skinny perforated c this mawnin'!” hopalong cassidy was struggling with a mouthful of beef. he turned his eyes toward red without ceasing, and grinning as well as he could under the circumstances managed to grunt out “gu," which was as near to “good" as the beef would allow. lanky smith now chimed in as he re- peatedly stuck his knife into a reluctant boiled potato, “how'd yu do it, skinny? " “ bet he sneaked up on him," joshed buck peters;“ did yu ask his pardin, skinny?' ” “ask nothin'," remarked red, “he jest nachurly walks up to c an' sez, “ kin i have the pleasure of ventilatin' yu?' an' c he sez, ‘ if yu do it easy like,' sez he. didn't he, thompson?” buckskin they'll be some ventilatin' under th' table if yu fellows don't lemme alone; i'm hungry," complained skinny. say, hopalong, i bets yu i kin clean up c all by my lonesome," announced buck, winking at red. “yah! yu onct tried to clean up the bend, buckie, an' if pete an' billy hadn't afound yu when they come by eagle pass that night yu wouldn't be here eatin' beef by th' pound," glancing at the hard-working hopalong. “ it was plum' lucky fer yu that they was acourtin' that time, wasn't it, hopalong?” suddenly asked red. hopalong nearly strangled in his efforts to speak. he gave it up and nodded his head. “why can't yu git it straight, connors ? i wasn't doin' no courtin', it was pete. i runned into him on th' other side o' th' pass. i'd look fine acourtin', wouldn't i?" asked the downtrodden williams. pete wilson skillfully flipped a potato into that worthy's coffee, spilling the beverage of the questionable name over a large expanse blue flannel shirt. “yu's all right, yu are. of ii . bar why, when i meets yu, yu was lost in th' arms of yore ladylove. all i could see was yore feet. go an' git tangled up with a two hundred and forty pound half-breed squaw an' then try to lay it onter me! when i pro- posed drownin' yore troubles over at cowan's, yu went an' got mad over what yu called th' insinooation. an' yu shore didn't look any too blamed fine, neither." “all th' same," volunteered thompson, who had taken the edge from his appetite, we better go over an' pay c a call. i don't like what shorty said about saltin' our cattle. he'll shore do it, unless i camps on th' line, which same i hain't hankerin' after." “oh, he wouldn't stop th' cows that way, skinny; he was only a foolin'," exclaimed con- nors meekly. “foolin' yore gran'mother! that there bunch'll do anything if we wasn't lookin',” hotly replied skinny. “that's shore nuff gospel, thomp. they's sore fer mor'n one thing. they got aplenty when buck went on th' warpath, an' they's hankerin' to git square,” remarked johnny i buckskin nelson, stealing the pie, a rare treat, of his neighbor when that unfortunate individual was not looking. he had it halfway to his mouth when its former owner, jimmy price, a boy of eighteen, turned his head and saw it going. “hi-yil yu clay-bank coyote, drap thet - pie! did yu ever see such a son-of-a-gun fer- pie?" he plaintively asked red connors, as he grabbed a mighty handful of apples and crust. “ pie'll kill yu some day, yu bob- tailed jack! i had an uncle that died onct. he et too much pie an' he went an' turned green, an' so'l yu if yu don't let it alone.” “yu ought'r seed th' pie johnny had down in eagle flat," murmured lanky smith reminiscently." she had feet that'd stop a stampede. johnny was shore loco about her.' swore she was the finest blossom that ever growed.” here he choked and tears of laugh- ter coursed down his weather-beaten face as he pictured her. “she was a dainty greaser, about fifteen han's high an' about sixteen han's around. johnny used to chalk off when he hugged her, usen't yu, johnny? one night bar when he had got purty well around on th' second lap he run inter a greaser jest startin' out on his fust. they hain't caught that mexican yet." nelson was pelted with everything in sight. he slowly wiped off the pie crust and bread and potatoes. anybody'd think i was a busted grub wagon,” he grumbled. when he had fished the last piece of beef out of his ear he went out and offered to stand treat. as the round-up was over, they slid into their saddles and raced for cowan's saloon at buckskin chapter ii the rashness of shorty bu uckskin was very hot; in fact it was never anything else. few people were on the streets and the town was quiet. over in the houston hotel a crowd of cowboys was lounging in the barroom. they were very quiet—a condition as rare as it was ominous. their mounts, twelve in all, were switching flies from their quivering skins in the corral at the rear. eight of these had a large c branded on their flanks; the other four, a double arrow. in the barroom a slim, wiry man was look- ing out of the dirty window up the street at cowan's saloon. shorty was complaining, "they shore oughter be here now. they rounded up last week.” the man nearest assured him that they would come. the man at the window turned and said, “they's yer now." bar in front of cowan's a crowd of nine happy- go-lucky, dare-devil riders were sliding from their saddles. they threw the reins over the heads of their mounts and filed in to the bar. laughter issued from the open door and the clink of glasses could be heard. they stood in picturesque groups, strong, self-reliant, humorous, virile. their expensive sombreros were pushed far back on their heads and their hairy chaps were covered with the alkali dust from their ride. cowan, bottle in hand, pushed out several more glasses. he kicked a dog from under his feet and looked at buck. yet?” he inquired. “shore, day afore yisterday," came the reply. the rest were busy removing the dust from their throats, and gradually drifted into groups of two or three. one of these groups strolled over to the solitary card table, and found jimmy price resting in a cheap chair, his legs on the table. “i wisht yu'd extricate yore delicate feet from off'n this hyar table, james," humbly “ rounded up the rashness of shorty requested lanky smith, morally backed up by those with him. 'ya-as, they shore is delicate, mr. smith," responded jimmy, without moving. “we wants to play draw, jimmy,” ex- plained pete. 'yore shore welcome to play if yu wants to didn't i tell yu when yu growed that mustache that yu didn't have to ask me any more?” queried the placid james, paternally. “ call 'em off, sonny. pete sez he kin clean me out. anyhow, yu kin have the fust deal," compromised lanky. 'i'm shore sorry fer pete if he cayn't. yu don't reckon i has to have fust deal to beat yu fellers, do yu? go way an' lemme alone; i never seed such a bunch fer buttin' in as yu fellers." billy williams returned to the bar. then he walked along it until he was behind the recalcitrant possessor of the table. while his aggrieved friends shuffled their feet uneasily to cover his approach, he tiptoed up behind jimmy and, with a nod, grasped that indig. bar nant individual firmly by the neck while the others grabbed his feet. they carried him, twisting and bucking, to the middle of the street and deposited him in the dust, return- ing to the now vacant table. jimmy rested quietly for a few seconds and then slowly arose, dusting the alkali from him. “th' wall-eyed piruts,” he muttered, and then scratched his head for a way to play i hunk.” as he gazed sorrowfully at the saloon he heard a snicker from behind him. he, thinking it was one of his late tormentors, paid no attention to it. then a cynical, biting laugh stung him. he wheeled, to see shorty leaning against a tree, a sneering leer on his alushed face. shorty's right hand was sus- pended above his holster, hooked to his belt by the thumb—a favorite position of his when expecting trouble. “one of yore reg'lar habits ?” he drawled. jimmy began to dust himself in silence, but his lips were compressed to a thin white line. “ does they hurt yu?” pursued the on- looker. jimmy looked up. “i heard tell that they the rashness of shorty make glue outen cayuses, sometimes," he re- marked. shorty's eyes flashed. the loss of the horse had been rankling in his heart all day. “ does they git yu frequent?” he asked. his voice sounded hard. “oh, 'bout as frequent as yu lose a cayuse, i reckon," replied jimmy hotly. shorty's hand streaked to his holster and jimmy followed his lead. jimmy's colt was caught. he had bucked too much. as he fell shorty ran for the houston house. pistol shots were common, for they were the universal method of expressing emotions. the poker players grinned, thinking their victim was letting off his indignation. lanky sized up his hand and remarked half audibly, “he's a shore good kid." the bartender, fearing for his new beveled, gilt-framed mirror, gave a hasty glance out the window. he turned around, made change and remarked to buck, “ yore kid, jimmy, is plugged." several of the more credulous- craned their necks to see, buck being the first. “h- ” he shouted, and ran out to where bar - jimmy lay coughing, his toes twitching. the saloon was deserted and a crowd of angry cowboys surrounded their chum-a boy. buck had seen shorty enter the door of the houston house and he swore. “ chase them cayuses behind th' saloon, pete, an' git under cover.” jimmy was choking and he coughed up blood. " he's shore-got me. my-gun stuck,” he added apologetically. he tried to sit up, but was not able and he looked sur- prised. “it's purty-damn hot-out here," he suggested. johnny and billy carried him in the saloon and placed him by the table, in the chair he had previously vacated. as they stood up he fell across the table and died. . billy placed the dead boy's sombrero on his head and laid the refractory six-shooter on the table. “i wonder who th' he looked at the slim figure and started to go out, followed by johnny. as he reached the threshold a bullet zipped past him and thudded into the frame of the door. he backed away and looked surprised. “that's shorty's shootin'-he allus misses 'bout that was." the rashness of shorty much." he looked out and saw buck stand- ing behind the live oak that shorty had leaned against, firing at the hotel. turning around he made for the rear, remarking to johnny that“ they's in th' houston.” johnny looked at the quiet figure in the chair and swore softly. he followed billy. cowan, closing the door and taking a . -caliber buffalo gun from under the bar, went out also and slammed the rear door forcibly. chapter iii the argument up houses foro uoste skinny and pete lag p the street two hundred yards from the houston house skinny and pete lay hidden behind a bowlder. three hundred yards on the other side of the hotel johnny and billy were stretched out in an arroyo. buck was lying down now, and hopalong, from his position in the barn belonging to the hotel, was methodically dropping the horses of the besieged, a job he hated as much as he hated poison. the corral was their death trap. red and lanky were emitting clouds of smoke from behind the store, immediately across the street from the barroom. a. caliber buffalo gun roared down by the plaza and several sharps cracked a protest from different points. the town had awakened and the shots were dropping steadily. strange noises filled the air. they grew in tone and volume and then dwindled away to the argument nothing. the hum of the buffalo gun and the sobbing pi-in-in-ing of the winchesters were liberally mixed with the sharp whines of the revolvers. there were no windows in the hotel now. raw furrows in the bleached wood showed yellow, and splinters mysteriously sprang from the casings. the panels of the door were producing cracks and the cheap door handle flew many ways at once. an empty whisky keg on the stoop boomed out mournfully at intervals and finally rolled down the steps with a rumbling protest. wisps of smoke slowly climbed up the walls and seemed to be waving defiance to the curling wisps in the open. pete raised his shoulder to refill the maga- zine of his smoking rifle and dropped the cartridges all over his lap. he looked sheep- ishly at skinny and began to load with his other hand. “yore plum' loco, yu are. don't yu reckon they kin hit a blue shirt at two hundred?” skinny cynically inquired. “ got one that time," he announced a second later. bar - “i wonder who's got th' buffalo," grunted pete. “mus' be cowan," he replied to his own question and settled himself to use his left hand. “don't yu git shorty; he's my meat," suggested skinny yu better tell buck-he ain't got no love fer shorty," replied pete, aiming carefully. the panic in the corral ceased and hopa- long was now sending his regrets against the panels of the rear door. he had cut his last initial in the near panel and was starting a wobbly “h” in its neighbor. he was in a good position. there were no windows in the rear wall, and as the door was a very dangerous place he was not fired at. he began to get tired of this one-sided business and crawled up on the window ledge, dangling his feet on the outside. he occa- sionally sent a bullet at a different part of the door, but amused himself by annoying buck. “plenty hot down there?” he pleasantly inquired, and as he received no answer he tried again. better save some of them cartridges fer some other time, buck." the argument buck was sending . winchesters into the shattered window with a precision that pre- saged evil to any of the defenders who were rash enough to try to gain the other end of the room. hopalong bit off a chew of tobacco and drowned a green fly that was crawling up the side of the barn. the yellow liquid streaked downward a short distance and was eagerly sucked up by the warped boards. a spurt of smoke leaped from the battered door and the bored hopalong promptly tum- bled back inside. he felt of his arm, and then, delighted at the notice taken of his artistic efforts, shot several times from a crack on his right. this yer's shore gittin' like home," he gravely remarked to the splinter that whizzed past his head. he shot again at the door and it sagged outward, accom- panied by the thud of a falling body. “ pies like mother used to make," he announced to the empty loft as he slipped the magazine full of . 's. an' pills like popper used to take," he continued when he had lowered the level of the liquor in his flask. bar he rolled a cigarette and tossed the match into the air, extinguishing it by a shot from his colt. got any cigarettes, hoppy?" said a voice from below. “shore," replied the joyous puncher, recog- nizing pete; “how'd yu git here?” “like a cow. busy? " “none whatever. comin' up? " “nope. skinny wants a smoke too." hopalong handed tobacco and papers down the hole. “so long." “so long," replied the daring pete, who risked death twice for a smoke. the hot afternoon dragged along and about three o'clock buck held up an empty cartridge belt to the gaze of the curious hopa- long. that observant worthy nodded and threw a double handful of cartridges, one by one, to the patient and unrelenting buck, who filled his gun and piled the few remaining ones up at his side. “th' lives of mice and men gang aft all wrong," he remarked at random. “th’son-of-a-gun's talkin' shakespeare," marveled hopalong. the argument “satiate any, buck?” he asked as that worthy settled down to await his chance. "two," he replied, “shorty an' another. plenty damn hot down here," he complained. a spurt of alkali dust stung his face, but the hand that made it never made another. “three," he called. “how many, hoppy?” “one. that's four. wonder if th' others got any?" “ pete said skinny got one," replied the intent buck. “th' son-of-a-gun, he never said nothin' about it, an' me a fillin' his ornery paws with smokin'.” hopalong was indignant. “ bet yu ten we don't git 'em afore dark," he announced. “got yu. go yu ten more i gits another," promptly responded buck. “ that's a shore cinch. make her twenty." “ she is.” “ yu'll have to square it with skinny, he shore wanted shorty plum' bad,” hopalong informed the unerring marksman. “why didn't he say suthin' about it? any . how, jimmy was my bunkie." bar - he sat up hopalong's cigarette disintegrated and the board at his left received a hole. he promptly disappeared and buck laughed. in the loft and angrily spat the soaked paper out from between his lips. “ all that trouble fer nothin', th' white- eyed coyote," he muttered. then he crawled around to one side and fired at the center of his “ c.” another shot hurtled at him and his left arm fell to his side. “that's funny -wonder where th' damn pirut is?" he looked out cautiously and saw a cloud of smoke over a knothole which was situated close up under the eaves of the barroom; and it was being agitated. some one was blowing at it to make it disappear. he aimed very carefully at the knot and fired. he heard a sound between a curse and a squawk and was not molested any further from that point. “ i knowed he'd git hurt,” he explained to the bandage, torn from the edge of his ker- chief, which he carefully bound around his last wound. down in the arroyo johnny was com- plaining. the argument * this yer's a no good bunk,” he plain- tively remarked. “ it shore ain't-but it's th' best we kin find,” apologized billy. “that's th' sixth that feller sent up there. he's a damn poor shot," observed johnny; “must be shorty.” shorty kin shoot plum' good—tain't him,” contradicted billy. “ yas-with a six-shooter. he's off'n his feed with a rifle," explained johnny. "yu wants to stay down from up there, yu ijit,” warned billy as the disgusted johnny crawled up the bank. he slid down again with a welt on his neck. “that's somebody else now. he oughter a done better'n that," he said. billy had fired as johnny started to slide and he smoothed his aggrieved chum. “he could onct, yu means." “did yu git him?” asked the anxious johnny, rubbing his welt. plum' center," responded the business- like billy “go up agin, mebby i kin git an- other," he suggested tentatively. bar “mebby you kin go to h–. i ain't no gallery,” grinned the now exuberant owner of the welt. who's got th' buffalo ?” he inquired as the . caliber roared. mus' be cowan. he's shore all right. sounds like a bloomin' cannon," replied billy. “ lemme alone with yore fool questions, i'm busy,” he complained as his talkative partner started to ask another. “go an' git me some water-i'm alkalied. an'git some . 's, mine's purty near gone. johnny crawled down the arroyo and reap- peared at hopalong's barn. as he entered the door a handful of empty shells fell on his hat and dropped to the floor. he shook his head and remarked, " that mus' be that fool hopalong." “yore shore right. how's business? inquired the festive cassidy. purty fair. billy's got one. how many's gone?” “buck's got three, i got two and skinny's got one. that's six, an' billy's is seven. they's five more,” he replied. the argument yu “how'd know?” queried johnny as he filled his flask at the horse trough. “because they's twelve cayuses behind th' hotel. that's why." “they might git away on 'em,” suggested the practical johnny. “can't. they's all cashed in.” “yu said that they's five left,” ejaculated the puzzled water carrier. “yah; yore a smart cuss, ain't yu?” johnny grinned and then said, “got any smokin'?" hopalong looked grieved. “i ain't no store. why don't yu git generous and buy some?" he partially filled johnny's hand, and as he put the sadly depleted bag away he in- quired, “ got any papers ? " “nope.” got any matches?” he asked cynically. "nope." “kin yu smoke 'em ?” he yelled, indig- nantly. “shore nuff,” placidly replied the unruffled johnny. billy wants some . 's.” bar - hopalong gasped. “don't he want my gun, too?" “nope. got a better one. hurry up, he'll git mad.” hopalong was a very methodical person. he was the only one of his crowd to carry a second cartridge strap. it hung over his right shoulder and rested on his left hip, hold. ing one hundred cartridges and his second colt. his waist belt held fifty cartridges and all would fit both the rifle and revolyers. he extracted twenty from that part of the shoul- der strap hardest to get at, the back, by simply pulling it over his shoulder and plucking out the bullets as they came into reach. “that's all yu kin have. i'm buck's am . mernition jackass," he explained. “bet yu ten we gits 'em afore dark”-he was hedging. " any fool knows that. i'll take yu if yu bets th' other way,” responded johnny, grin. ning. he knew hopalong's weak spot. “yore on," promptly responded hopa. long, who would bet on anything. well, so long,” said johnny as he crawled away. the argument hey, yu, johnny!” called out hopa- long, “don't yu go an' tell anybody i got any pills left. i ain't no ars'nal." johnny replied by elevating one foot and waving it. then he disappeared. behind the store, the most precarious posi- tion among the besiegers, red connors and lanky smith were ensconced and commanded a view of the entire length of the barroom. they could see the dark mass they knew to be the rear door and derived a great amount of amusement from the spots of light which were appearing in it. they watched the “c” (reversed to them) appear and be completed. when the wobbly “h” grew to completion they laughed heartily. then the hardwood bar had been dragged across their field of vision and up to the front windows, and they could only see the indiscriminate holes which appeared in the upper panels at frequent intervals. every time they fired they had to expose a part of themselves to a return shot, with the result that lanky's forearm was seared bar - its entire length. red had been more for- tunate and only had a bruised ear. they laboriously rolled several large rocks out in the open, pushing them beyond the shelter of the store with their rifles. when they had crawled behind them they each had another wound. from their new position they could see hopalong sitting in his win- dow. he promptly waved his sombrero and grinned. they were the most experienced fighters of all except buck, and were saying their shots. when they did shoot they always had some portion of a man's body to aim at, and the damage they inflicted was considerable. they said nothing, being older than the rest and more taciturn, and they were not reck. less. although hopalong's antics made them laugh, they grumbled at his recklessness and were not tempted to emulate him. it was noticeable, too, that they shoved their rifles out simultaneously and, although both were aiming, only one fired. lanky's gun cracked so close to the enemy's that the whirr of the the argument bullet over red's head was merged in the crack of his partner's reply. when hopalong saw the rocks roll out from behind the store he grew very curious. then he saw a flash, followed instantly by another from the second rifle. he saw sey- eral of these follow shots and could sit in silence no longer. he waved his hat to at- tract attention and then shouted, “how many?" a shot was sent straight up in the air and he notified buck that there were only four left. the fire of these four grew less rapid- they were saving their ammunition. a pot shot at hopalong sent that gentleman's rifle hurtling to the ground. another tore through his hat, removing a neat amount of skin and hair and giving him a lifelong part. he fell back inside and proceeded to shoot fast and straight with his revolvers, his head burning as though on fire. when he had vented the dangerous pressure of his anger he went below and tried to fish the rifle in with a long stick. it was obdurate, so he sent three more shots bar- into the door, and, receiving no reply, ran out around the corner of his shelter and grasped the weapon. when half way back he sank to the ground. before another shot could be fired at him with any judgment a ripping, spitting rifle was being frantically worked from the barn. the bullets tore the door into seams and gaps; the lowest panel, the one having the “h” in it, fell inward in chunks. johnny had returned for another smoke. hopalong, still grasping the rifle, rolled rapidly around the corner of the barn. he endeavored to stand, but could not. johnny, hearing rapid and fluent swearing, came out. “where'd they git yu?” he asked. “in th' off leg. hurts like h- . did yu git him?" "nope. i jest come fer another cig; got any left?" " 'up above. yore gall is shore appallin'. help me in, yu two-laigged jackass." “shore. we'll shore pay our 'tentions to that door. she'll go purty soon-she's as the argument full of holes as th' bad lan's," replied johnny. “git aholt an' hop along, hopa- long." he helped the swearing hopalong inside, and then the lead they pumped into the wrecked door was scandalous. another panel fell in and hopalong's “c” was destroyed. a wide crack appeared in the one above it and grew rapidly. its mate began to gape and finally both were driven in. the increase in the light caused by these openings allowed red and lanky to secure better aim and soon the fire of the defenders died out. johnny dropped his rifle and, drawing his six-shooter, ran out and dashed for the dilapi- dated door, while hopalong covered that opening with a fusilade. as johnny's shoulder sent the framework flying inward he narrowly missed sudden death. as it was he staggered to the side, out of range, and dropped full length to the ground, flat on his face. hopalong's rifle cracked incessantly, but to no avail. the man who had fired the shot was dead. buck got bar him immediately after he had shot johnny. calling to skinny and red to cover him, buck sprinted to where johnny lay gasping. the bullet had entered his breast, just missed his lungs and had passed out his back. buck, colt in hand, leaped through the door, but met with no resistance. he signaled to hop- along, who yelled, “they's none left.” the trees and rocks and gullies and build- ings yielded men who soon crowded around the hotel. a young doctor, lately graduated, appeared. it was his first case, but he eased johnny and saved his life. then he went over to hopalong, who was now raving, and attended to him. the others were patched up as well as possible and the struggling young physician had his pockets crammed full of gold and silver coins. the scene of the wrecked barroom was indescribable. holes, furrows, furrows, shattered glass and bottles, the liquor oozing down the walls of the shelves and running over the floor; the ruined furniture, a wrecked bar, seared and shattered and covered with blood; bodies as they had been piled in the corners; the argument ropes, shells, hats; and liquor everywhere, over everything, met the gaze of those who had caused the chaos. perry's bend had failed to wipe out the score. chapter iv the vagrant sioux bug uckskin gradually readjusted itself to the conditions which had existed be- fore its sudden leap into the limelight as a town which did things. the soirée at the houston house had drifted into the past, and was now substantially established as an epoch in the history of the town. exuberant joy gave way to dignity and deprecation, and to solid satisfaction; and the conversations across the bar brought forth parallels of the affair to be judged impartially—and the im- partial judgment was, unanimously, that while there had undoubtedly been good fights before perry's bend had disturbed the local quiet, they were not quite up to the new standard of strenuous hospitality. finally the heat blis- tered everything back into the old state, and the shadows continued to be in demand. one afternoon, a month after the reception the vagrant sioux of the honorable delegation from perry's bend, the town of buckskin seemed desolated, and the earth and the buildings thereon were as huge furnaces radiating a visible heat, but when the blazing sun had begun to settle in the west it awoke with a clamor which might have been laid to the efforts of a zealous satan. at this time it became the mecca of two score or more joyous cowboys from the neighboring ranches, who livened things as those knights of the saddle could. in the scant but heavy shadow of cowan's saloon sat a picturesque figure from whom came guttural, resonant rumblings which mingled in a spirit of loneliness with the fret- ful sighs of a flea-tormented dog. both dog and master were vagrants, and they were tolerated because it was a matter of supreme indifference as to who came or how long they stayed as long as the ethics and the unwritten law of the cow country were inviolate. and the breaking of these caused no unnecessary anxiety, for justice was both speedy and sure. when the outcast sioux and his yellow dog had drifted into town some few months before bar - they had caused neither expostulation nor inquiry, as the cardinal virtue of that whole broad land was to ask a man no questions which might prove embarrassing to all con- cerned; judgment was of observation, not of history, and a man's past would reveal itself through actions. it mattered little whether he was an embezzler or the wild chip from some prosperous eastern block, as men came to the range to forget and to lose touch with the pampered east; and the range absorbed them as its own. a man was only a man as his skin contained the qualities necessary; and the illiterate who could ride and shoot and live to himself was far more esteemed than the educated who could not do those things. the more a man depends upon himself and the closer is his contact to a quick judgment the more laconic and 'even-poised he becomes. and the knowledge that he is himself a judge tends to create caution and judgment. he has no court to uphold his honor and to offer him protection, so he must be quick to protect himself and to maintain his own standing. his nature saved him, or it executed; and the j the vagrant sioux range absolved him of all unpaid penalties of a careless past. he became a man born again and he took up his burden, the exactions of a new environment, and he lived as long as those exactions gave him the right to live. he must tolerate no restrictions of his natural rights, and he must not restrict; for the one would proclaim him a coward, the other a bully; and both received short shrifts in that land of the self-protected. the basic law of nature is the survival of the fittest. so, when the wanderers found their level in buckskin they were not even asked by what name men knew them. not caring to hear a name which might not harmonize with their idea of the fitness of things, the cowboys of the bar- had, with a freedom born of excellent livers and fearless temperaments, bestowed names befitting their sense of humor and adaptability. the official title of the sioux was by-and-by; the dog was known as fleas. never had names more clearly de- scribed the objects to be represented, for they were excellent examples of cowboy discern- ment and aptitude. bar in their eyes by-and-by was a man. he could feel and he could resent insults. they did not class him as one of themselves, because he did not have energy enough to demand and justify such classification. with them he had a right to enjoy his life as he saw fit so long as he did not trespass on or restrict the rights of others. they were not analytic in temperament, neither were they moralists. he was not a menace to society, because so- ciety had superb defenses. so they vaguely recognized his many poor qualities and clearly saw his few good ones. he could shoot, when permitted, with the best; no horse, however refractory, had ever been known to throw him; he was an adept at following the trails left by rustlers, and that was an asset; he be- came of value to the community; he was an economic factor. his ability to consume liquor with indifferent effects raised him another notch in their estimation. he was not always talking when some one else wished to—an- other count. there remained about him that stoical indifference to the petty; that obsery- ant nonchalance of the indian; and there was the vagrant sioux a suggestion, faint, it was true, of a dignity common to chieftains. he was a log of grave deference which tossed on their sea of mischievous hilarity. he wore a pair of corduroy trousers, known to the care-free as "pants," which were held together by numerous patches of what had once been brilliantly colored calico. a pair of suspenders, torn into two separate straps, made a belt for himself and a collar for his dog. the trousers had probably been secured during a fit of absent-mindedness on his part when their former owner had not been looking. tucked at intervals in the top of the corduroys (the exceptions making con- venient shelves for alkali dust) was what at one time had been a stiff-bosomed shirt. this was open down the front and back, the weight of the trousers on the belt holding it firmly on the square shoulders of the wearer, thus precluding the necessity of collar buttons. a pair of moccasins, beautifully worked with wampum, protected his feet from the on- slaughts of cacti and the inquisitive and pug- nacious sand flies; and lying across his lap bar was a repeating winchester rifle, not danger- ous because it was empty, a condition due to the wisdom of the cîtizens in forbidding any one to sell, trade or give to him those tubes of concentrated trouble, because he could get drunk. the two were contented and happy. they had no cares nor duties, and their pleasures were simple and easily secured, as they con- sisted of sleep and a proneness to avoid mov- ing. like the untrammeled coyote, their bed was where sleep overtook them; their food, what the night wrapped in a sense of security, or the generosity of the cowboys of the bar- . no tub-ridden diogenes ever knew so little of responsibility or as much unadul- terated content. there is a penalty even to civilization and ambition. when the sun had cast its shadows beyond by-and-by's feet the air became charged with noise; shouts, shots and the rolling thunder of madly pounding hoofs echoed flatly throughout the town. by-and-by yawned, stretched and leaned back, reveling in the semi-conscious ecstasy of the knowledge that the vagrant sioux he did not have to immediately get up. fleas opened one eye and cocked an ear in inquiry, and then rolled over en his back, squirmed and sighed contentedly and long. the outfit of the bar- had come to town. the noise came rapidly nearer and in- creased in volume as the riders turned the corner and drew rein suddenly, causing their mounts to slide on their haunches in ankle- deep dust. ' hullo, old buck-with-th'-pants, how's yore liver?" “come up an' irrigate, old tank!” “ chase th' flea ranch an' trail along!” these were a few of the salutations discern- ible among the medley of playful yells, the safety valves of supercharged good-nature. “skr-e-e'!” yelled hopalong cassidy, let- ting off a fusillade of shots in the vicinity of fleas, who rapidly retreated around the cor- ner, where he wagged his tail in eager expec- tation. he was not disappointed, for a cow pony tore around in pursuit and hopalong leaned over and scratched the yellow back, thumping it heartily, and, tossing a chunk of bar - beef into the open jaws of the delighted dog, departed as he had come. the advent of the outfit meant a square meal, and the dog knew it. in cowan's, lined up against the bar, the others were earnestly and assiduously endeav- oring, with a promise of success, to get by- and-by drunk, which endeavors coincided perfectly with by-and-by's idea of the fitness of things. the fellowship and the liquor combined to thaw out his reserve and to loosen his tongue. after gazing with an air of injured surprise at the genial loosening of his knees he gravely handed his rifle with an exaggerated sweep of his arm, to the cowboy nearest him, and wrapped his arms around the recipient to insure his balance. the rifle was passed from hand to hand until it came to buck peters, who gravely presented it to its owner as a new gun. by-and-by threw out his stomach in an endeavor to keep his head in line with his heels, and grasping the weapon with both hands turned to cowan, to whom he gave it. “ yu hab this un. me got two. me keep the vagrant sioux new un, mebbyso." then he loosened his belt and drank long and deep. a shadow darkened the doorway and hop- along limped in. spying by-and-by pushing the bottle into his mouth, while red connors propped him, he grinned and took out five silver dollars, which he jingled under by- and-by's eyes, causing that worthy to lay aside the liquor and erratically grab for the tanta- lizing fortune. “not yet, sabe?” said hopalong, chang- ing the position of the money. “if yu wants to corral this here herd of simoleons yu has to ride a cayuse what red bet me yu can't ride. yu has got to grow on that there saddle and stayed growed for five whole minutes by buck's ticker. i ain't a-goin' to tell yu he's any sawhorse, for yu'd know better, as yu reckons red wouldn't bet on no losin' propo- sition if he knowed better, which same he don't. yu straddles that four-laigged cloud- burst an' yu gets these, sabe? i ain't seeni th' cayuse yet that yu couldn't freeze to, an' i'm backin' my opinions with my moral sup- port an' one month's pay.' bar - by-and-by's eyes began to glitter as the meaning of the words sifted through his be- fuddled mind. ride a horse-five dollars- ride a five-dollars horse-horses ride dol. lars—then he straightened up and began to speak in an incoherent jumble of sioux and bad english. he, the mighty rider of the sioux; he, the bravest warrior and the great- est hunter; could he ride a horse for five dollars? well, he rather thought he could. grasping red by the shoulder, he tacked for the door and narrowly missed hitting the bottom step first, landing, as it happened, in the soft dust with red's leg around his neck. somewhat sobered by the jar, he stood up and apologized to the crowd for red getting in the way, declaring that red was a “heap good un," and that he didn't mean to do it. the outfit of the bar- was, perhaps, the most famous of all from canada to the rio grande. the foreman, buck peters, con- trolled a crowd of men (who had all the instincts of boys) that had shown no quarter to many rustlers, and who, while always care- free and easy-going (even fighting with great the vagrant sioux good humor and carelessness), had estab- lished the reputation of being the most reck- less gang of daredevil gun-fighters that ever pounded leather. crooked gaming houses, from el paso to cheyenne and from phænix to leavenworth, unanimously and enthusias- tically damned them from their boots to their sombreros, and the sheriffs and marshals of many localities had received from their hands most timely assistance and some trouble. wiry, indomitable, boyish and generous, they were splendid examples of virile manhood; and, surrounded as they were with great dan- gers and a unique civilization, they should not, in justice, be judged by opinions born of the commonplace. they were real cowboys, which means, pub- lic opinion to the contrary notwithstanding, that they were not lawless, nor drunken, shoot- ing bullies who held life cheaply, as their kin has been unjustly pictured; but while these men were naturally peaceable they had to continually rub elbows with men who were not. gamblers, criminals, bullies and the riffraff that fled from the protected east had bar - drifted among them in great numbers, and it was this class that caused the trouble. the v hard-working cow punchers " lived accord. ing to the law of the land, and they obeyed that greatest of all laws, that of self-preser- vation. their fun was boisterous, but they paid for all the damage they inflicted; their work was one continual hardship, and the reaction of one extreme swings far toward the limit of its antithesis. go back to the apple if you would trace the beginning of self-preservation and the need. buck peters was a man of mild appearance, somewhat slow of speech and correspondingly quick of action, who never became flurried. his was the master hand that controlled, and his colts enjoyed the reputation of never miss- ing when a hit could have been expected with reason. many floods, stampedes and bliz- zards had assailed his nerves, but he yet could pour a glass of liquor, held at arm's length, through a knothole in the floor without wet- ting the wood. next in age came lanky smith, a small, undersized man of retiring disposition. then the vagrant sioux came skinny thompson, six feet four on his bared soles, and true to his name; hopalong described him as “th' shadow of a chalk mark." pete wilson, the slow-witted and very taciturn, and billy williams, the waver- ing pessimist, were of ordinary height and appearance. red connors, with hair that shamed the name, was the possessor of a temper which was as dry as tinder; his great- est weakness was his regard for the rifle as a means of preserving peace. johnny nelson was the protégé, and he could do no wrong. the last, hopalong cassidy, was a combina- tion of irresponsibility, humor, good nature, love of fighting, and nonchalance when face to face with danger. his most prominent attribute was that of always getting into trouble without any intention of so doing; in fact, he was much aggrieved and surprised when it came. it seemed as though when any “bad man " desired to add to his reputation he invariably selected hopalong as the means (a fact due, perhaps, to the perversity of things in general). bad men became scarce soon after hopalong became a fixture in any bar - locality. he had been crippled some years before in a successful attempt to prevent the assassination of a friend, sheriff harris, of albuquerque, and he still possessed a limp. when red had relieved his feelings and had dug the alkali out of his ears and eyes, he led the sioux to the rear of the saloon, where a “pinto was busily engaged in en- deavoring to pitch a saddle from his back, employing the intervals in trying to see how much of the picket rope he could wrap around his legs. when by-and-by saw what he was expected to ride he felt somewhat relieved, for the pony did not appear to have more than the ordinary amount of cussedness. he waved his hand, and johnny and red bandaged the animal's eyes, which quieted him at once, and then they untangled the rope from around his legs and saw that the cinches were secure. motioning to by-and-by that all was ready, they jerked the bandage off as the indian settled himself in the saddle. had by-and-by been really sober he would have taken the conceit out of that pony in the vagrant sioux chunks, and as it was he experienced no great difficulty in holding his seat; but in his addled state of mind he grasped the end of the cinch strap in such a way that when the pony jumped forward in its last desperate effort the buckle slipped and the cinch became unfast- ened; and by-and-by, still seated in the saddle, flew headforemost into the horse trough, where he spilled much water. as this happened cowan turned the corner, and when he saw the wasted water (which he had to carry, bucketful at a time, from the wells a good quarter of a mile away) his anger blazed forth, and yelling, he ran for the drenched sioux, who was just crawling out of his bath. when the unfortunate saw the irate man bearing down on him he sput- tered in rage and fear, and, turning, he ran down the street, with cowan thundering flat- footedly behind on a fat man's gallop, to the hysterical cheers of the delighted outfit, who saw in it nothing but a good joke. when cowan returned from his hopeless task, blowing and wheezing, he heard sundry remarks, sotto voce, which were not calculated bar - to increase his opinion of his physical con- dition. “seems to me," remarked the irrepressible hopalong," that one of those cayuses has got th' heaves." “ it shore sounds like it,” acquiesced johnny, red in the face from holding in his laughter, “an' say, somebody interferes." “all knock-kneed animals do, yu heathen," supplied red. “hey, yu, let up on that an' have a drink on th' house,” invited cowan. “if i gits that d-n warwhoop i'll make yu think there's been a cyclone. i'll see how long that bum hangs around this here burg, i will." red's eyes narrowed and his temper got the upper hand. “he ain't no bum when yu gives him rotgut at a quarter of a dollar a glass, is he? any time that 'bum' gits razzled out for nothin' more'n this, why, i goes too; an' i ain't sayin' nothin' about goin' peaceable-like, neither." “i knowed somethin' like this 'ud happen,' dolefully sang out billy williams, strong on the side of his pessimism. the vagrant sioux “for th' lord's sake, have yu broke out? " asked red, disgustedly. “ i'm goin' to hit the trail—but just keep this afore yore mind: if by-and-by gits in any accidents or ain't in sight when i comes to town again, this here climate'll be a d-n sight hotter'n it is now. no hard feelings, sabe? it's just a casual bit of advice. come on, fellows, let's amble- i'm hungry." as they raced across the plain toward the ranch a pair of beady eyes, snapping with a drunken rage, watched them from an arroyo; and when cowan entered the saloon the next morning he could not find by-and-by's rifle, which he had placed behind the bar. he also missed a handful of cartridges from the box near the cash drawer; and had he looked closely at his bottled whisky he would have noticed a loss there. a horse was missing from a mexican's corral and there were rumors that several indians had been seen far out on the plain. chapter v the law of the range "p hew! i'm shore hungry,” said hopa- long, as he and red dismounted at the ranch the next morning for breakfast. “wonder what's good for it?” "they's three things that's good for fam- ine,” said red, leading the way to the bunk house. “yu can pull in yore belt, yu can drink, an' yu can eat. yore getting as bad as johnny_but he's young yet.” the others met their entrance with a volley of good-humored banter, some of which was so personal and evoked such responses that it sounded like the preliminary skirmish to a fight. but under all was that soft accent, that drawl of humorous appreciation and eyes twinkling in suppressed merriment. here they were thoroughly at home and the spirit of comradeship manifested itself in many subtle ways; the wit became more daring and the law of the range sharp, billy lost some of his pessimism, and the alertness disappeared from their manner. skinny left off romping with red and yawned. “i wish that cook'ud wake up an' git breakfast. he's the cussedest greaser i ever saw—he kin go to sleep standin' up an' not know it. johnny's th' boy that worries him—th' kid comes in an' whoops things up till he's gorged himself.” “ johnny's got th' most appallin' feel for grub of anybody i knows," added red. “i wonder what's keepin' him-he's usually hangin' around here bawlin' for his grub likev a spoiled calf, long afore cookie's got th' fire goin'." mebby he rustled some grub out with him-i saw him tiptoein' out of th' gallery this mornin' when i come back for my cigs,” remarked hopalong, glancing at billy. billy groaned and made for the gallery. emerging half a minute later he blurted out his tale of woe: “every time i blows myself an' don't drink it all in town some slab-sided v maverick freezes to it. it's gone,” he added, dismally. bar - “ too bad, billy—but what is it?" asked skinny. “what is it? wha'd yu think it was, yu emaciated match? jewelry? cayuses? it's whisky-two simoleons' worth. somethin's allus wrong. this here whole yearth's wrong, just like that cross-eyed sky pilot said over to- “will yu let up ? ” yelled red, throwing a sombrero at the grumbling unfortunate. “yu ask buck where yore tanglefoot is.” “i'd shore look nice askin' th' boss if he'd v rustled my whisky, wouldn't i? an' would yu mind throwin' somebody else's hat? i paid twenty wheels for that eight years ago, and i don't want it mussed none." gee, yore easy! why, ah sing, over at albuquerque, gives them away every time yu gits yore shirt washed,” gravely interposed hopalong as he went out to cuss the cook. well, what'd yu think of that?” ex- claimed billy in an injured tone. “oh, yu needn't be hikin' for albuquerque -washee-washee'ud charge yu double for washin' yore shirt. yu ought to fall in th' the law of the range river some day—then he might talk business," called hopalong over his shoulder as he heaved an old boot into the gallery. “hey, yu hibernatin' son of morphine, if yu don't git them flapjacks in here pretty sudden-like i'll scatter yu all over th' landscape, sabe? yu just wait till johnny comes!” “wonder where th' kid is?" asked lanky, rolling a cigarette. “off somewhere lookin' at th' sun through th' bottom of my bottle," grumbled billy. hopalong started to go out, but halted on the sill and looked steadily off toward the northwest. “that's funny. hey, fellows, here comes buck an' johnny ridin' double- an a walk, too!” he exclaimed. “ wonder what th'-thunder! red, buck's carryin' him! somethin's busted!” he yelled, as he dashed for his pony and made for the newcomers. "i told yu he was hittin' my bottle," pertly remarked billy, as he followed the rest out- side. “did yu ever see johnny drunk? did yu over see him drink more'n two glasses ? shut pore wailin' face—they's somethin' worse'n bar - that in this here," said red, his temper rising. “hopalong an' me took yore cheap liquor- it's under pete's bunk,” he added. the trio approached on a walk and johnny, delirious and covered with blood, was carried into the bunk house. buck waited until all had assembled again and then, his face dark with anger, spoke sharply and without the v usual drawl: “skragged from behind, den them! get some grub an' water an' be quick. we'll see who the gent with th' grudge is.” at this point the expostulations of the in- dignant cook, who, not understanding the cause, regarded the invasion of china shop bulls as sacrilegious, came to his ears. strid- ing quickly to the door, he grabbed the pan the mexican was about to throw and, turning the now frightened man around, thundered, keep quiet an' get 'em some grub." when rifles and ammunition had been se- cured they mounted and followed him at a hard gallop along the back trail. no words were spoken, for none were necessary. all knew that they would not return until they had found the man for whom they were look- the law of the range ing, even if the chase led to canada. they did not ask buck for any of the particulars, for the foreman was not in the humor to talk, and all, save hopalong, whose curiosity was always on edge, recognized only two facts and cared for nothing else: johnny had been ambushed and they were going to get the one who was responsible. they did not even con- jecture as to who it might be, because the trail would lead them to the man himself, and it mattered nothing who cr what he was there was only one course to take with an assassin. so they said nothing, but rode on with squared jaws and set lips, the seven ponies breast to breast in a close arc. soon they came to an arroyo which they took at a leap. as they approached it they saw signs in the dust which told them that a body had lain there huddled up; and there were brown spots on the baked alkali. the trail they followed was now single, buck hav- ing ridden along the bank of the arroyo when hunting for johnny, for whom he had orders. this trail was very irregular, as if the horse had wandered at will. suddenly they came bar – upon five tracks, all pointing one way, and four of these turned abruptly and disappeared in the northwest. half a mile beyond the point of separation was a chaparral, which was an important factor to them. each man knew just what had taken place as if he had been an eyewitness, for the trail was plain. the assassins had waited in the chaparral for johnny to pass, probably hav- ing seen him riding that way. when he had passed and his back had been turned to them they had fired and wounded him severely at the first volley, for johnny was of the stuff that fights back and his revolvers had showed full chambers and clean barrels when red had examined them in the bunk house. then they had given chase for a short distance and, from some inexplicable motive, probably fear, they had turned and ridden off without know- ing how bad he was hit. it was this trail that led to the northwest, and it was this trail that they followed without pausing. when they had covered fifty miles they sighted the cross bar o ranch, where they hoped to secure fresh mounts. as they rode the law of the range up to the ranch house the owner, bud wal- lace, came around the corner and saw them. “hullo, boys! what deviltry are yu up to now?” he asked. buck leaped from his mount, followed by the others, and shoved his sombrero back on his head as he started to remove the saddle. “we're trailin' a bunch of murderers. they ambushed johnny an' dn near killed him. i stopped here to get fresh cayuses. “yu did right!” replied wallace heartily. then raising his voice he shouted to some of his men who were near the corral to bring up the seven best horses they could rope. then he told the cook to bring out plenty of food and drink. "i got four punchers what ain't doin' nothin' but eat," he suggested. much obliged, wallace, but there's only four of 'em, an' we'd rather get 'em ourselves johnny'ud feel better," replied buck, throwing his saddle on the horse that was led up to him. “how's yore cartridges got plenty?' persisted wallace. bar “ two hundred apiece," responded buck, springing into his saddle and riding off. “so long," he called. “so long, an' plug h– out of them,” shouted wallace as the dust swept over him. at five in the afternoon they forded the black river at a point where it crossed the state line from new mexico, and at dusk camped at the base of the guadalupe moun- tains. at daybreak they took up the chase, grim and merciless, and shortly afterward they passed the smoldering remains of a camp fire, showing that the pursued had been in a great hurry, for it should have been put out and masked. at noon they left the moun- tains to the rear and sighted the barred horseshoe, which they approached. the owner of the ranch saw them coming, and from their appearance surmised that something was wrong. " what is it?" he shouted. “rustlers ?” nope. murderers. i wants to swap cayuses quick," answered buck. “there they are. th' boys just brought 'em in. anything else i can let yu have?” the law of the range "nope," shouted buck as they galloped off. somebody's goin' to get plugged full of holes," murmured the ranch owner as he watched them kicking up the dust in huge clouds. after they had forded a tributary of the rio penasco near the sacramento mountains and had surmounted the opposite bank, hopa- long spurred his horse to the top of a hum- mock and swept the plain with pete's field glasses, which he had borrowed for the occa- sion, and returned to the rest, who had kept on without slacking the pace. as he took up his former position he grunted, “war-whoops," and unslung his rifle, an example followed by the others. the ponies were now running at top speed, and as they shot over a rise their riders saw their quarry a mile and a half in advance. one of the indians looked back and discharged his rifle in defiance, and it now became a race worthy of the name-death fled from death. the fresher mounts of the cowboys steadily cut down the distance and, as the rifles of the pursuers began to speak, bar - the hard-pressed indians made for the smaller of two knolls, the plain leading to the larger one being too heavily strewn with bowlders to permit speed. as the fugitives settled down behind the rocks which fringed the edge of their eleva- tion a shot from one of them disabled billy's arm, but had no other effect than to increase the score to be settled. the pursuers rode behind a rise and dismounted, from where, leaving their mounts protected, they scattered out to surround the knoll. hopalong, true to his curiosity, finally turned up on the highest point of the other knoll, a spur of the range in the west, for he always wanted to see all he could. skinny, due to his fighting instinct, settled one hun- dred yards to the north and on the same spur. buck lay hidden behind an enormous bowlder eight hundred yards to the northeast of skinny, and the same distance southeast of buck was red connors, who was crawling up the bed of an arroyo. billy, nursing his arm, lay in front of the horses, and pete, from his position between billy and hopalong, was the law of the range crawling from rock to rock in an endeavor to get near enough to use his colts, his favorite and most effective weapons. intermittent puffs of smoke arising from a point between skinny and buck showed where lanky smith was improving each shining hour. there had been no directions given, each man choosing his own position, yet each was of strategic worth. billy protected the horses, hopalong and skinny swept the knoll with a plunging fire, and lanky and buck lay in the course the besieged would most likely take if they tried a dash. off to the east red barred them from creeping down the arroyo, and from where pete was he could creep up to within sixty yards if he chose the right rocks. the ranges varied from four hundred yards for buck to sixty for pete, and the others averaged close to three hundred, which al- lowed very good shooting on both sides. hopalong and skinny gradually moved nearer to each other for companionship, and as the former raised his head to see what the others were doing he received a graze on the ear. bar - “wow!” he yelled, rubbing the tingling member. two puffs of smoke floated up from the knoll, and skinny swore. “ where'd he get yu, fat? ” asked hopa- long. g’wan, don't get funny, son," replied skinny jets of smoke arose from the north and east, where buck and red were stationed, and pete was half way to the knoll. so far he hadn't been hit as he dodged in and out, and, emboldened by his luck, he made a run of five yards and his sombrero was shot from his head. another dash and his empty holster was ripped from its support. as he crouched behind a rock he heard a yell from hopalong, and saw that interested individual waving his sombrero to cheer him on. an angry pang! from the knoll caused that enthusiastic rooter to drop for safety. “locoed son-of-a-gun," complained pete. “he'll shore git potted.” then he glanced at billy, who was the center of several succes- sive spurts of dust. the law of the range “how's business, billy?” he called pleas- antly. "oh, they'll git me yet,” responded the pessimist. “yu needn't git anxious. if that off buck wasn't so green he'd 'a' had me long ago." “ ya-hoo! pete! oh, pete!" called hop- along, sticking his head out at one side and grinning as the wondering object of his hail craned his neck to see what the matter was. “huh? " grunted pete, and then remem- bering the distance he shouted, “what's th' matter?” "got any cigarettes ? " asked hopalong. “yuden sheep!” said pete, and turning back to work he drove a . into a yellow moccasin. hopalong began to itch and he saw that he was near an ant hill. then the cactus at his right boomed out mournfully and a hole appeared in it. he fired at the smoke and a yell informed him that he had made a hit. “go 'way!” he complained as a green fly buzzed past his nose. then he scratched each leg with the foot of the other and squirmed bar = incessantly, kicking out with both feet at once. a warning metallic whir-r-r! on his left caused him to yank them in again, and turning his head quickly he had the pleasure of lopping off the head of a rattlesnake with his colt's. “glad yu wasn't a copperhead,” he ex- claimed. " somebody had ought 'a' shot that fool noah. d-n the ants !" he drowned with a jet of tobacco juice a gila monster that was staring at him and took a savage delight in its frantic efforts to bury itself. soon he heard skinny swear and he sung out: “what's the matter, skinny? git plugged again?” “naw, bugs—ain't they h- ?" plaint- ively asked his friend. “they ain't none over here. what kind of bugs?” “sufferin' moses, i ain't no bugologist ! all kinds ! but hopalong got it at last. he had found tobacco and rolled a cigarette, and in reaching for a match exposed his shoulder to a shot that broke his collar bone. skinny's the law of the range rifle cracked in reply and the offending brave rolled out from behind a rock. from the fuss emanating from hopalong's direction skinny knew that his neighbor had been hit. “don't yu care, hoppy. i got th' cuss," he said consolingly. “where'd he git yu?” he asked. “in th' heart, yu pie-faced nuisance. come over here an' corral this cussed bandage an' gimme some water," snapped the injured man. skinny wormed his way through the thorny chaparral and bound up the shoulder. any- thing else?” he asked. “ yes. shoot that bunch of warts an' blow that tobacco-eyed gila to cheyenne. this here's worse than the time we cleaned out th' c outfit!” then he kicked the dead toad and swore at the sun. “close yore yap; yore worse than a kid! anybody'd thing yu never got plugged afore,' said skinny indignantly. “ i can cuss all i wants,” replied hopalong, proving his assertion as he grabbed his gun and fired at the dead indian. a bullet whined bar above his head and skinny fired at the smoke. he peeped out and saw that his friends were getting nearer to the knoll. “they's closin' in now. we'll soon be gittin' home," he reported. hopalong looked out in time to see buck make a dash for a bowlder that lay ten yards in front of him, which he reached in safety. lanky also ran in and pete added five more yards to his advance. buck made another dash, but leaped into the air, and, coming down as if from an intentional high jump, staggered and stumbled for a few paces and then fell alat, rolling over and over toward the shelter of a split rock, where he lay quiet. a leering red face peered over the rocks on the knoll, but the whoop of exultation was cut short, for red's rifle cracked and the warrior rolled down the steep bank, where another shot from the same gun settled him beyond question. hopalong choked and, turning his face away, angrily dashed his knuckles into his eyes. “d-n'em! d-n 'em! they've got buck! they've got buck, n'em! they've the law of the range got buck, skinny! good old buck! they've got him! jimmy's gone, johnny's plugged, and now buck's gone! come on!” he sobbed in a frenzy of vengeance. " come on, skinny! we'll tear their cussed hides into a deeper red than they are now! oh, dn it, i can't see—where's my gun?" he groped for the rifle and fought skinny when the lat- ter, red-eyed but cool, endeavored to restrain him. “ lemme go, curse yu! don't yu know they got buck? lemme go!" “ downl red's got th’skunk. yu can't - do nothin'-they'd drop yu afore yu took five v steps. red's got him, i tell yu! do yu want me to lick yu? we'll pay 'em with th' coals of h- if yu'll keep yore headl" exclaimed skinny, throwing the crazed man heavily. musical tones, rising and falling in weird octaves, whining pityingly, diabolically, sob- bing in a fascinating monotone and slobbering in ragged chords, calling as they swept over the plain, always calling and exhorting, they mingled in barbaric discord with the defiant barks of the six-shooters and the inquiring cracks of the winchesters. high up in the bar- air several specks sailed and drifted, more coming up rapidly from all directions. buz- zards know well where food can be found. as hopalong leaned back against a rock he was hit in the thigh by a ricochet that tore its way out, whirling like a circular saw, a span above where it entered. the wound was very nasty, being ripped twice the size made by an ordinary shot, and it bled profusely. skinny crawled over and attended to it, mak- ing a tourniquet of his neckerchief and clumsily bandaging it with a strip torn from his shirt. “ yore shore lucky, yu are," he grumbled as he made his way back to his post, where he vented his rancor by emptying the semi- depleted magazine of his winchester at the knoll. hopalong began to sing and shout and he talked of jimmy and his childhood, interspers- ing the broken narrative with choice selections as sung in the music halls of leavenworth and abilene. he wound up by yelling and strug- gling, and skinny had his hands full in hold- ing him. the law of the range “hopalong! cassidy! come out of that! keep quiet-yu'll shore git plugged if yu don't stop that plungin'. for god's sake, did yu hear that?" a bullet viciously hissed between them and flattened out on a near-by rock; others cut their way through the cha- parral to the sound of falling twigs, and skinny threw himself on the struggling man and strapped hopalong with his belt to the base of a honey mesquite that grew at his side. “hold still, now, and let that bandage alone. yu allus goes off th' range when yu gets plugged,” he complained. he cut down a cactus and poured the sap over the wounded man's face, causing him to gurgle and look around. his eyes had a sane look now and skinny slid off his chest. “ git that-belt loose; i ain't-no cow, brokenly blazed out the picketed hopalong. skinny did so, handed the irate man his colts and returned to his own post, from where he fired twice, reporting the shots. “i'm tryin' to get him on th' glance—th' first one went high an' th other fell ilat,” he explained. bar hopalong listened eagerly, for this was shooting that he could appreciate. “lemme see,” he commanded. skinny dragged him over to a crack and settled down for another try. where is he, skinny? " asked hopalong. “ behind that second big one. no, over on this here side. see that smooth granite? if i can get her there on th' right spot he'll shore know it.” he aimed carefully and fired. through pete's glasses hopalong saw a• leaden splotch appear on the rock and he notified the marksman that he was shooting high. “put her on that bump closer down," he suggested. skinny did so and another yell reached their ears. that's a dandy. yore shore all right, yu old cuss,” complimented hopalong, elated at the success of the experiment. skinny fired again and a brown arm flopped out into sight. another shot struck it and it jerked as though it were lifeless. “he's cashed. see how she jumped? like the law of the range a rope," remarked skinny with a grin. the arm lay quiet. pete had gained his last cover and was all eyes and colts. lanky was also very close in and was intently watching one particular rock. several shots echoed from the far side of the knoll and they knew that red was all right. billy was covering a cluster of rocks that protruded above the others and, as they looked, his rifle rang out and the last defender leaped down and disappeared in the chaparral. he wore yellow trousers and an old boiled shirt. by-an'-by, by all that's bad!” yelled hopalong. “th' measly coyote! an' me a-fillin' his ornery hide with liquor. well, they'll have to find him all over again now," he complained, astounded by the revelation. he fired into the chaparral to express his pugnacious disgust and scared out a huge tarantula, which alighted on skinny's chaps, crawling rapidly toward the unconscious man's neck. hopalong's face hardened and he slowly covered the insect and fired, driving bar it into the sand, torn and lifeless. the bullet touched the leathern garment and skinny remonstrated, knowing that hopalong was in no condition for fancy shooting. “huh!” exclaimed hopalong. “that was a tarantula what i plugged. he was headin' for yore neck,” he explained, watch- ing the chaparral with apprehension. “go 'way, was it? bully for yu!” ex- claimed skinny, tarantulas being placed at par with rattlesnakes, and he considered that he had been saved from a horrible death. thought yu said they wasn't no bugs over here," he added in an aggrieved tone. “ they wasn't none. yu brought 'em. i only had th' main show-gilas, rattlers an' toads," he replied, and then added, " ain't it cussed hot up here?” " she is. yu won't have no cinch ridin' home with that leg. yu better take my cay- use—he's busted more'n yourn," responded skinny “yore cayuse is at th' cross bar o, yu wall-eyed pirute." “shore 'nuff. funny how a feller forgets the law of the range sometimes. lemme alone now, they's goin' to git by-an'-by. pete an' lanky has just went in after him." that was what had occurred. the two impatient punchers had grown tired of wait- ing, and risked what might easily have been death in order to hasten matters. the others kept up a rapid fire, directed at the far end of the chaparral on the knoll, in order to mask the movements of their venturesome friends, intending also to drive by-and-by toward them so that he would be the one to get picked off as he advanced. several shots rang out in quick succession on the knoll and the chaparral became agi- tated. several more shots sounded from the depth of the thicket and a mounted indian dashed out of the northern edge and headed in buck's direction. his course would take him close to buck, whom he had seen fall, and would let him escape at a point midway between red and skinny, as lanky was on the knoll and the range was very far to allow effective shooting by these two. red saw him leave the chaparral and in bar - his haste to reload jammed the cartridge, and by-and-by swept on toward temporary safety, with red dancing in a paroxysm of rage, swelling his vocabulary with words he had forgotten existed. by-and-by, rising to his full height in the saddle, turned and wiggled his fingers at the frenzied red and made several other signs that the cowboy was in the humor to appre- ciate to the fullest extent. then he turned and shook his rifle at the marksmen on the larger knoll, whose best shots kicked up the dust fully fifty yards too short. the pony was sweeping toward the reservation and friends only fifteen miles away, and by-and-by knew that once among the mountains he would be on equal footing at least with his enemies. as he passed the rock behind which buck lay sprawled on his face he uttered a piercing whoop of triumph and leaned forward on his pony's neck. twenty leaps farther and the spiteful crack of an unerring rifle echoed from where the foreman was painfully supporting himself on his elbows. the pony swept on in a spurt of nerve-racking speed, but alone. the law of the range by-and-by shrieked again and crashed heavily to the ground, where he rolled inertly and then lay still. men like buck are dangerous until their hearts have ceased to beat. tidleness for those who had obstructed chapter vi trials of the convalescent he days at the ranch passed in irritating the aight of hostile lead, and worse than any of the patients was hopalong, who fretted and fumed at his helplessness, which retarded his recovery. but at last the day came when he was fit for the saddle again, and he gave notice of his joy in whoops and forthwith announced that he was entitled to a holiday; and buck had not the heart to refuse him. so he started forth in his quest of peace and pleasure, but instead had found only trouble and had been forced to leave his card at almost every place he had visited. there was that affair in red hot gulch, colorado, where, under pressure, he had in- vested sundry pieces of lead in the persons of several obstreperous citizens and then had trials of a convalescent paced the zealous and excitable sheriff to the state line. he next was noticed in cheyenne, where his deformity was vividly dwelt upon, to the extent of six words, by one tarantula char- ley, the aforesaid charley not being able to proceed to greater length on account of heart failure. as charley had been a ubiquitous nuisance, those present availed themselves of the opportunity offered by hopalong to in- dulge in a free drink. laramie was his next stopping place, and shortly after his arrival he was requested to sing and dance by a local terror, who informed all present that he was the only seventeen- buttoned rattlesnake in the cow country. hopalong, hurt and indignant at being treated like a common tenderfoot, promptly knocked the terror down. after he had irri- gated several square feet of parched throats belonging to the audience he again took up his journey and spent a day at denver, where he managed to avoid any further trouble. santa fé loomed up before him several days later and he entered it shortly before bar – noon. at this time the old spanish city was a bundle of high-strung nerves, and certain parts of it were calculated to furnish any and all kinds of excitement except revival meet- ings and church fairs. hopalong straddled a lively nerve before he had been in the city an hour. two local bad men, slim travennes and tex ewalt, desiring to establish the fact that they were roaring prairie fires, attempted to consume the placid and innocent stranger as he limped across the plaza in search of a game of draw poker at the black hills em- porium, with the result that they needed re- pairs, to the chagrin and disgust of their immediate acquaintances, who endeavored to drown their mortification and sorrow in rapid but somewhat wild gun play, and soon remem- bered that they had pressing engagements elsewhere. hopalong reloaded his guns and proceeded to the emporium, where he found a game all prepared for him in every sense of the word. on the third deal he objected to the way in which the dealer manipulated the cards, and when the smoke cleared away he was the only trials of a convalescent occupant of the room, except a dog belonging to the bartender that had intercepted a stray bullet. hunting up the owner of the hound, he apologized for being the indirect cause of the animal's death, deposited a sum of mexican dollars in that gentleman's palm and went on his way to alameda, which he entered shortly after dark, and where an insult, simmering in its uncalled-for venom, met him as he limped across the floor of the local dispensary on his way to the bar. there was no time for verbal argument and precedent had estab- lished the manner of his reply, and his repar- tee was as quick as light and most effective. having resented the epithets he gave his attention to the occupants of the room. smoke drifted over the table in an agitated cloud and dribbled lazily upward from the muzzle of his six-shooter, while he looked searchingly at those around him. strained and eager faces peered at his opponent, who was sliding slowly forward in his chair, and for the length of a minute no sound but the guarded breathing of the onlookers could be bar heard. this was broken by a nervous cough from the rear of the room, and the faces assumed their ordinary nonchalant expres- sions, their rugged lines heavily shadowed in the light of the flickering oil lamps, while the shuffling of cards and the clink of silver became audible. hopalong cassidy had objected to insulting remarks about his afflic- tion. hopalong was very sensitive about his crippled leg and was always prompt to resent any scorn or curiosity directed at it, especially when emanating. from strangers. man of twenty-three years, when surrounded by nearly perfect specimens of physical man- hood, is apt to be painfully self-conscious of any such defect, and it reacted on his nature at times, even though he was well known for his happy-go-lucky disposition and playful- he consoled himself with the knowl. edge that what he lost in symmetry was more than balanced by the celerity and certainty of his gun hand, which was right or left, or both, as the occasion demanded. a young ness. trials of a convalescent several hours later, as his luck was vacil- lating, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and was overjoyed at seeing buck and red, the latter grinning as only red could grin, and he withdrew from the game to enjoy his good fortune. while hopalong had been wandering over the country the two friends had been hunting for him and had traced him successfully, that being due to the trail he had blazed with his six-shooters. this they had accomplished without harm to themselves, as those of whom they inquired thought that they must want hopalong “bad," and cheerfully gave the information required. they had started out more for the purpose of accompanying him for pleasure, but that had changed to an urgent necessity in the following manner: while on the way from denver to santa fé they had met pete willis of the three triangle, a ranch that adjoined their own, and they paused to pass the compliments of the season. bar purty far from th' grub wagon, pie,” remarked buck. “oh, i'm only goin' to denver,” re- sponded pie. “purty hot,” suggested red. “she shore is. seen anybody yu knows?” pie asked. “one or two billy of th' star crescent an' panhandle lukins," answered buck. " that so? panhandle's goin' to punch for us next year. i'll hunt him up. i heard down south of albuquerque that thirsty jones an' his brothers are lookin' for trou- ble," offered pie. 'yah! they ain't lookin' for no trouble ---they just goes around blowin' off. trouble? why, they don't know what she is,” remarked red contemptuously. “well, they's been dodgin' th' sheriff purty lively lately, an' if that ain't trouble i don't know what is,” said pie. - " it shore is, an' hard to dodge,” acqui- esced buck. well, i has to amble. is panhandle in denver ? yes? i calculates as how me an' trials of a convalescent him'll buck th' tiger for a whirl-he's v shore lucky. well, so long," said pie as he moved on. so long," responded the two. hey, wait a minute,” yelled pie after he had ridden a hundred yards. “if yu seos hopalong yu might tell him that th' joneses are goin' to hunt him up when they gits to albuquerque. they's shore sore on him. 'tain't none of my funeral, only they ain't always a-carin' how they goes after a feller. so long," and soon he was a cloud of dust on the horizon. "trouble!” snorted red; "well, between dodgin' harris an' huntin' hopalong i reck- ons they'll shore find her.” then to himself he murmured, “funny how everythin' comes his way." “that's gospel shore enough, but, as pie said, they ain't a whole lot particular as how they deal th' cards. we better get a move on.- an' find that ornery little cuss," replied buck. “o. k., only i ain't losin' no sleep about hoppy. his gun's too lively for me to do any worryin'," asserted red. bar - they'll get lynched some time, shore,” declared buck. not if they find hoppy,” grimly replied red. they tore through santa fé, only stopping long enough to wet their throats, and after several hours of hard riding entered ala- meda, where they found hopalong in the manner narrated. after some time the three left the room and headed for albuquerque, twelve miles to the south. at ten o'clock they dismounted before the nugget and rope, an unpainted wooden building supposed to be a clever com- bination of barroom, dance and gambling hall and hotel. the cleverness lay in the man who could find the hotel part. chapter vii the open door he proprietor of the nugget and rope, a german named baum, not being troubled with police rules, kept the door wide open for the purpose of inviting trade, a proceeding not to the liking of his patrons for obvious reasons. probably not one man in ten was fortunate enough to have no one looking for him," and the lighted interior assured good hunting to any one in the dark street. he was continually opening the door, which every newcomer promptly and forcibly slammed shut. when he saw men walk across the room for the express purpose of slamming it he began to cherish the idea that there was a conspiracy on foot to anger him and thus force him to bring about his own death. after the door had been slammed three times in one evening by one man, the last slam being so forcible as to shake two bottles from the bar shelf and to crack the door itself, he became positive that his suspicions were correct, and so was very careful to smile and take it as a joke. finally, wearied by his vain efforts to keep it open and fearing for the door, he hit upon a scheme, the brilliancy of which inflated his chest and gave him the appearance of a prize-winning bantam. when his patrons strolled in that night there was no door to slam, as it lay behind the bar. when buck and red entered, closely fol. lowed by hopalong, they elbowed their way to the rear of the room, where they could see before being seen. as yet they had said nothing to hopalong about pie's warning and were debating in their minds whether they should do so or not, when hopalong interrupted their thoughts by laughing. they looked up and he nodded toward the front, where they saw that anxious eyes from all parts of the room were focused on the open door. then they noticed that it had been removed. the air of semi-hostile, semi-anx- ious inquiry of the patrons and the smile of satisfaction covering the face of baum ap- the open door pealed to them as the most ludicrous sight their eyes had seen for months, and they leaned back and roared with laughter, thus calling forth sundry looks of disapproval from the innocent causers of their merriment. but they were too well known in albuquerque to allow the disapproval to approach a serious end, and finally, as the humorous side of the situation dawned on the crowd, they joined in the laugh and all went merrily. at the psychologic moment someone shouted for a dance and the suggestion met with uproarious approval. at that moment harris, the sheriff, came in and volunteered to supply the necessary music if the crowd would pay the fine against a straying fiddler he had corraled the day before. a hat was quickly passed and a sum was realized which would pay several fines to come and harris departed for the music. a chair was placed on the bar for the musician and, to the tune of “old dan tucker ” and an assortment of similar airs, the board floor shook and trembled. it was a comical sight and hopalong, the only wall- . bar - flower besides baum and the sheriff, laughed until he became weak. cow punchers play as they work, hard and earnestly, and there was plenty of action. sombreros flapped like huge wings and the baggy chaps looked like small, distorted balloons. the virginia reel was a marvel of supple, exaggerated grace and the quadrille looked like a free-for-all for unbroken colts. the honor of prompter was conferred upon the sheriff, and he gravely called the changes as they were usually called in that section of the country: “oh, th' ladies trail in an' th' gents trail out, an' all stampede down th' middle. if yu ain't got th' tin yu can dance an' shout, but yu must keep up with th' fiddle.” as the dance waxed faster and the dancers grew hotter hopalong, feeling lonesome be- cause he wouldn't face ridicule, even if it was not expressed, went over and stood by the sheriff. he and harris were good friends, for he had received the wound that crippled the open door . him in saving the sheriff from assassination. harris killed the man who had fired that shot, and from this episode on the burning desert grew a friendship that was as strong as their own natures. harris was very well liked by the majority and feared by the rest, for he was a square "' man and the best sheriff the county had ever known. quiet and unassuming, small of stature and with a kind word for every one, he was a universal favorite among the better class of citizens. quick as a flash and unerr- ing in his shooting, he was a nightmare to the “bad men.” no profane word had ever been known to leave his lips, and he was the pos- sessor of a widespread reputation for gener- osity. his face was naturally frank and open; but when his eyes narrowed with determina- tion it became blank and cold. when he saw his young friend sidle over to him he smiled and nodded a hearty welcome. they's shore cuttin' her loose," remarked hopalong “first two pairs forward an' back they shore is," responded the prompter. bar - “who's th' gent playin' lady to buck?” queried hopalong. forward again an' ladies change !—billy jordan.” hopalong watched the couple until they swung around and then he laughed silently. “buck's got too many feet,” he seriously re- marked to his friend. “swing th' girl yu loves th' best!-he ain't lonesome, look at that" two shots rang out in quick succession and harris stumbled, wheeled and pitched for- ward on his face as hopalong's sombrero spun across his body. for a second there was an intense silence, heavy, strained and sicken- ing. then a roar broke forth and the crowd of frenzied merry-makers, headed by hopa- long, poured out into the street and spread out to search the town. as daylight dawned the searchers began to straggle back with the same report of failure. buck and red met on the street near the door and each looked questioningly at the other. each shook his head and looked around, their fingers toying absent-mindedly at their belts. finally buck . the open door cleared his throat and remarked casually, "mebby he's following 'em." red nodded and they went over toward their horses. as they were hesitating which route to take, billy jordan came up. 'mebby yu'd like to see yore pardner- he's out by buzzard's spring. we'll take care of him," jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the saloon where harris's body lay. "and we'll all git th' others later. they can't git away for long.' buck and red nodded and headed for buz- zard's spring. as they neared the water hole they saw hopalong sitting on a rock, his head resting in one hand while the other hung loosely from his knee. he did not notice them when they arrived, and with a ready tact they sat quietly on their horses and looked in every direction except toward him. the sun became a ball of molten fire and the sand flies annoyed them incessantly, but still they sat and waited, silent and apologetic. hopalong finally arose, reached for his sombrero, and, finding it gone, swore long and earnestly at the scene its loss brought be. bar – fore him. he walked over to his horse and, leaping into the saddle, turned and faced his friends. “yu old sons-of-guns,” he said. they looked sheepish and nodded negatively in answer to the look of inquiry in his eyes. they ain't got 'em yet,” remarked red slowly. hopalong straightened up, his eyes narrowed and his face became hard and reso- lute as he led the way back toward the town. buck rode up beside him and, wiping his face with his shirt sleeve, began to speak to red. “we might look up th' joneses, red. they had been dodgin' th' sheriff purty lively lately, an' they was huntin' hopalong. ever since we had to kill their brother in buckskin they has been yappin' as how they was goin' to wipe us out. hopalong an' harris was standin' clost together an' they tried for both. they shot twice, one for harris an' one for hopalong, an' what more do yu want?” “it shore looks thataway, buck," replied red, biting into a huge plug of tobacco which he produced from his chaps. how, they wouldn't be no loss if they didn't. 'member what pie said?” “ any the open door hopalong looked straight ahead, and when he spoke the words sounded as though he had bitten them off: “ yore right, buck, but i gits first try at thirsty. he's my meat an' i'll plug th fellow what says he ain't. damn him!” the others replied by applying their spurs, and in a short time they dismounted before the nugget and rope. thirsty wouldn't have a chance to not care how he dealt the cards. buck and red moved quickly through the crowd, speaking fast and earnestly. when they returned to where they had left their friend they saw him half a block away and they followed slowly, one on either side of the street. there would be no bullets in his back if they knew what they were about, and they usually did. as hopalong neared the corner, thirsty and his two brothers turned it and saw him. thirsty said something in a low voice, and the other two walked across the street and disappeared behind the store. when assured that they were secure, thirsty walked up to ioi bar - a huge boulder on the side of the street farthest from the store and turned and faced his enemy, who approached rapidly until about five paces away, when he slowed up and finally stopped. for a number of seconds they sized each other up, hopalong quiet and deliberate with a deadly hatred; thirsty pale and furtive with a sensation hitherto unknown to him. it was right meeting wrong, and wrong lost confi- dence. often had thirsty jones looked death in the face and laughed, but there was something in hopalong's eyes that made his flesh creep. he glanced quickly past his foe and took in the scene with one flash of his eyes. there was the crowd, eager, expectant, scowling. there were buck and red, each lounging against a boulder, buck on his right, red on his left. before him stood the only man he had ever feared. hopalong shifted his feet and thirsty, coming to himself with a start, smiled. his nerve had been shaken, but he was master of himself once more. “well!” he snarled, scowling. the open door " did hopalong made no response, but stared him in the eyes. thirsty expected action, and the deadly quiet of his enemy oppressed him. he stared in turn, but the insistent searching of his opponent's eyes scorched him and he shifted his gaze to hopalong's neck. welll” he repeated uneasily. yu have a nice time at th' dance last night?" asked hopalong, still searching the face before him. “ was there a dance? i was over in ala- meda,” replied thirsty shortly. “ya-as, there was a dance, an' yu can shoot purty d-n far if yu was in alameda," responded hopalong, his voice low and monotonous. thirsty shifted his feet and glanced around. buck and red were still lounging against their boulders and apparently were not pay- ing any attention to the proceedings. his fickle nerve came back again, for he knew he would receive fair play. so he faced hopa- long once more and regarded him with a cynical smile. bar - yu seems to worry a whole lot about me. is it because yu has a tender feelin', or because it's none of yore d-n business?” he asked aggressively. hopalong paled with sudden anger, but controlled himself. " it's because yu murdered harris," he replied. “shoo! an' how does yu figger it out? " asked thirsty, jauntily. “he was huntin' yu hard an' yu thought yu'd stop it, so yu came in to lay for him. when yu saw me an' him together yu saw th' chance to wipe out another score. that's how i figger it out,” replied hopalong quietly. “yore a reg'lar 'tective, ain't yu?” thirsty asked ironically. “i've got common sense,” responded hop- along. “yu has? yu better tell th' rest that, too,” replied thirsty. “i know yu shot harris, an' yu can't get out of it by makin' funny remarks. anyhow, yu won't be much loss, an' th' stage company 'll feel better, too." the open door “shoo! an' suppose i did shoot him, i done a good job, didn't i?” “yu did the worst job yu could do, yu highway robber,” softly said hopalong, at the same time moving nearer. “harris knew yu stopped th' stage last month, an' that's why yu've been dodgin' him." “yore a liar!" shouted thirsty, reaching for his gun. the movement was fatal, for before he could draw, the colt in hopalong's holster leaped out and flashed from its owner's hip and thirsty fell sideways, face down in the dust of the street. hopalong started toward the fallen man, but as he did so a shot rang out from behind the store and he pitched forward, stumbled and rolled behind the boulder. as he stum- bled his left hand streaked to his hip, and when he fell he had a gun in each hand. as he disappeared from sight goodeye and bill jones stepped from behind the store and started to run away. not able to resist the temptation to look again, they stopped and turned and bill laughed. bar - easy as h– ," he said. run, yu fool-red an' buck 'll be here. want to git plugged?” shouted goodeye angrily. they turned and started for a group of ponies twenty yards away, and as they leaped into the saddles two shots were fired from the street. as the reports died away buck and red turned the corner of the store, colts in hand, and, checking their rush as they saw the saddles emptied, they turned toward the street and saw hopalong, with blood oozing from an abrasion on his cheek, sitting up cross- legged, with each hand holding a gun, from which came thin wisps of smoke. “th' son-of-a-gun!” cried buck, proud and delighted. “th' son-of-a-gun!" echoed red, grin. ning. bar his trip, and he had left his two companions at albuquerque in order that he might have to himself all that he could find. not many miles to the south of him lay the town which had been the rendezvous of tamale josé, whose weakness had been a liking for other people's cattle. well he remembered his first man hunt: the discovery of the theft, the trail and pursuit and—the ending. he was scarcely eighteen years of age when that event took place, and the wis- dom he had absorbed then had stood him in good stead many times since. he had even now a touch of pride at the recollection how, when his older companions had failed to get tamale josé, he with his undeveloped strategy had gained that end. the fight would never be forgotten, as it was his first, and no sight of wounds would ever affect him as did those of red connors as he lay huddled up in the dark corner of that old adobe hut. he came to himself and laughed again as he thought of carmencita, the first girl he had ever known-and the last. with a boy's impetuosity he had wooed her in a manner hopalong keeps his word far different from that of the peons who sang beneath her window and talked to her mother. he had boldly scaled the wall and did his courting in her house, trusting to luck and to his own ability to avoid being seen. no hid- den meaning lay in his words; he spoke from his heart and with no concealment. and he remembered the treachery that had forced him, fighting, to the camp of his outfit; and when he had returned with his friends she had disappeared. to this day he hated that mud-walled convent and those sisters who so easily forgot how to talk. the fragrance of the old days wrapped themselves around him, and although he had ceased to pine for his black-eyed carmencita — well, it would be nice if he chanced to see her again. spurring his mount into an easy can- ter he swept down to and across the river, fording it where he had crossed it when pursu- ing tamale josé. the town lay indolent under the mexican night, and the strumming of guitars and the tinkle of spurs and tiny bells softly echoed from several houses. the convent of st. bar - maria lay indistinct in its heavy shadows and the little church farther up the dusty street showed dim lights in its stained windows. off to the north became audible the rhythmic beat of a horse and soon a cowboy swept past the convent with a mocking bow. he clat- tered across the stone-paved plaza and threw his mount back on its haunches as he stopped before a house. glancing around and deter- mining to find out a few facts as soon as possible, he rode up to the low door and pounded upon it with the butt of his colt. after waiting for possibly half a minute and receiving no response he hammered a tune upon it with two colts and had the satisfac- tion of seeing half a score of heads protrude from the windows in the nearby houses. “if i could scare up another gun i might get th' whole blamed town up,” he grumbled whimsically, and fell on the door with an- other tune. who is it?” came from within. the voice was distinctly feminine and hopalong winked to himself in congratulation. "me," he replied, twirling his fingers from ΙΙο hopalong keeps his word his nose at the curious, forgetting that the darkness hid his actions from sight. “yes, i know; but who is 'me'?” came from the house. “ ain't i a fool!” he complained to him- self, and raising his voice he replied coaxingly, open th' door a bit an' see. are are yu car- mencita?" “ - - ! but you must tell me who it is first." “mr. cassidy," he replied, flushing at the mister,' and i wants to see carmencita." “ carmencita who?” teasingly came from behind the door. hopalong scratched his head. “gee, yu've roped me—i suppose she has got another handle. oh, yu know—she used to live here about seven years back. she had great big black eyes, pretty cheeks an'a mouth that 'ud stampede anybody. don't yu know now? she was about so high," holding out his hands in the darkness. the door opened a trifle on a chain and hopalong peered eagerly forward. “ah, it is you, the brave americano! you iii bar must go away quick or you will meet with harm. manuel is awfully jealous and he will kill you! go at once, please! ” hopalong pulled at the half-hearted down upon his lip and laughed softly. then he slid the guns back in their holsters and felt of his sombrero. “manuel wants to see me first, star eyes." 'no! nol” she replied, stamping upon the floor vehemently. “you must go now- at once!" “i'd shore look nice hittin' th' trail because manuel somebody wants to get hurt, wouldn't i? don't yu remember how i used to shinny up this here wall an' skin th' cat gettin' through that hole up there what yu said was a window? ah, come on an' open th' door- i'd shore like to see yu again!" pleaded the irrepressible. " nol no! go away. oh, won't you please go away!" hopalong sighed audibly and turned his horse. as he did so he heard the door open and a sigh reached his ears. he wheeled like a flash and found the door closed again on its i hopalong keeps his word chain. a laugh of delight came from be- hind it. come out, please !—just for a minute," he begged, wishing that he was brave enough to smash the door to splinters and grab her. “if i do, will you go away?" asked the girl. “oh, what will manuel say if he comes ? and all those people, they'll tell him! hey, yul" shouted hopalong, brandish- ing his colts at the protruding heads. “git scarce! i'll shore plug th' last one in i ” then he laughed at the sudden vanishing. the door slowly opened and carmencita, fat and drowsy, wobbled out to him. hopa- long's feelings were interfering with his breathing as he surveyed her. “oh, yu shore are mistaken, mrs. carmencita. i wants to see yore daughter!” " ah, you have forgotten the little car- mencita who used to look for you. like all the men, you have forgotten,” she cooed re- proachfully. then her fear predominated again and she cried, “oh, if my husband should see me now! hopalong mastered his astonishment and bar - bowed. he had a desire to ride madly into the rio grande and collect his senses. “yu are right this is too dangerous- i'll amble on some,” he replied hastily. un- der his breath he prayed that the outfit would never learn of this. he turned his horse and rode slowly up the street as the door closed. rounding the corner he heard a soft foot- fall, and swerving in his saddle he turned and struck with all his might in the face of a man who leaped at him, at the same time grasping the uplifted wrist with his other hand. a curse and the tinkle of thin steel on the pavement accompanied the fall of his opponent. bending down from his saddle he picked up the weapon and the next minute the enraged assassin was staring into the unwav- ering and, to him, growing muzzle of a colt's . yu shore had a bum teacher. don't yu know better'n to push it in? an' me a cow- puncher, too! i'm most grieved at yore conduct-it shows you don't appreciate cow . wrastlers. this is safer," he remarked, throwing the stiletto through the air and into hopalong keeps his word a door, where it rang out angrily and quiv- ered. “i don't know as i wants to ventilate yu; we mostly poisons coyotes up my way," he added. then a thought struck him. “yu must be that dear manuel i've been hearin' so much about?" a snarl was the only reply and hopalong grinned. “yu shore ain't got no call to go loco that way, none whatever. i don't want yore car- mencita. i only called to say hullou," re- sponded hopalong, his sympathies being aroused for the wounded man before him from his vivid recollection of the woman who had opened the door. " yah!" snarled manuel. “you wants to poison my little bird. you with your fair hair and your cursed swagger!' the six-shooter tentatively expanded and then stopped six inches from the mexican's “yu wants to ride easy, hombre. i ain't no angel, but i don't poison no woman; an' don't yu amble off with th' idea in yore head that she wants to be poisoned. why, she near stuck a knife in me!” he lied. nose. bar, the mexican's face brightened somewhat, but it would take more than that to wipe out the insult of the blow. the horse became restless, and when hopalong had effectively quieted it he spoke again. "did yu ever hear of tamale josé ? " “ yes." “well, i'm th' fellow that stopped him in th' 'dobe hut by th' arroyo. i'm tellin' yu this so yu won't do nothin' rash an' leave carmencita a widow. sabe?" the hate on the mexican's face redoubled and he took a short step forward, but stopped when the muzzle of the colt kissed his nose. he was the brother of tamale josé. as he backed away from the cool touch of the weapon he thought out swiftly his revenge. some of his brother's old companions were at that moment drinking mescal in a saloon down the street, and they would be glad to see this americano die. he glanced past his house at the saloon and hopalong misconstrued his thoughts. “shore, go home. i'll just circulate around some for exercise. no hard feelings, only yu hopalong keeps his word better throw it next time," he said as he backed away and rode off. manuel went down the street and then ran into the saloon, where he caused an uproar. hopalong rode to the end of the plaza and tried to sing, but it was a dismal failure. then he felt thirsty and wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. turning his horse and seeing the saloon he rode up to it and in, lying flat on the animal's neck to avoid being swept off by the door frame. his en- trance scared white some half a dozen loung- ers, who immediately sprang up in a decidedly hostile manner. hopalong's colts peeped over the ears of his horse and he backed into a corner near the bar. “one, two, three — now, altogether, breathe! yu acts like yu never saw a real puncher afore. all th' same," he remarked, nodding at several of the crowd, “ i've seen yu afore. yu are th' gents with th' hot-foot get-a-way that vamoosed when we got tamale." curses were flung at him and only the humorous mood he was in saved trouble. one, bar - bolder than the rest, spoke up: “ the señor will not see any 'hot-foot get-a-way,' as he calls it, now! the señor was not wise to go so far away from his friends!” hopalong looked at the speaker and a quizzical grin slowly spread over his face. they'll shore feel glad when i tells them yu was askin' for 'em. but didn't yu see too v much of 'em once, or was yu poundin' leather in the other direction? yu don't want to worry none about meman' if yu don't get ✓yore hands closter to yore neck they'll be h- to pay! there, that's more like home," he remarked, nodding assurance. reaching over he grasped a bottle and poured out a drink, his colt slipping from his hand and dangling from his wrist by a thong. as the weapon started to fall several of the audience involuntarily moved as if to pick it up. hopalong noticed this and paused with the glass half way to his lips. “don't bother yoreselves none; i can git it again," he said, tossing off the liquor. “wow! holy smoke!” he yelled. “this ain't drink! sufferin' coyotes, nobody can hopalong keeps his word one man, accuse yu of sellin' liquor! did yu make this all by yoreself? ” he asked incredulously of the proprietor, who didn't know whether to run or to pray. then he noticed that the crowd was spreading out and his colts again became the center of interest. “yu with th' lovely face, sit down!” he ordered as the person addressed was gliding toward the door. “i ain't a-goin' to let yu pot me from th' street. th' first man who tries to get scarce will stop somethin' hot. an' yu all better sit down," he suggested, sweeping them with his guns. more obdurate than the rest, was slow in com- plying and hopalong sent a bullet through the top of his high sombrero, which had a most gratifying effect. “you'll regret this!” hissed a man in the rear, and a murmur of assent arose. some one stirred slightly in searching for a weapon and immediately a blazing colt froze him into a statue. 'yu shore looks funny; eeny, meeny, miny, mo,” counted off the daring horseman; move a bit an' off yu go," he finished. then bar - his face broke out in another grin as he thought of more enjoyment. “that there gent on th' left," he said, pointing out with a gun the man he meant. “yu sing us a song. sing a nice little song. ” as the object of his remarks remained mute he let his thumb ostentatiously slide back with the hammer of the gun under it. 'sing! quick!” the man sang. as hopalong leaned forward to say some- thing a stiletto flashed past his neck and crashed into the bottle beside him. the echo of the crash was merged into a report as hopalong fired from his waist. then he backed out into the street and, wheeling, galloped across the plaza and again faced the saloon. a flash split the darkness and a bul- let hummed over his head and thudded into an adobe wall at his back. another shot and he replied, aiming at the flash. from down the street came the sound of a window open- ing and he promptly caused it to close again. several more windows opened and hastily closed, and he rode slowly toward the far end i hopalong keeps his word of the plaza. as he faced the saloon once more he heard a command to throw up his hands and saw the glint of a gun, held by a man who wore the insignia of sheriff. hopa- long complied, but as his hands went up two spurts of fire shot forth and the sheriff dropped his weapon, reeled and sat down. hopalong rode over to him and, swinging down, picked up the gun and looked the offi- cer over. “shoo, yu'll be all right soon-yore only plugged in th' arms,” he remarked as he glanced up the street. shadowy forms were gliding from cover to cover and he imme- diately caused consternation among them by his accuracy. “ain't it h- ?” he complained to the wounded man. “i never starts out but what somebody makes me shoot 'em. came down here to see a girl an' find she's married. then when i moves on peaceable-like her husband makes me hit him. then i wants a drink an he goes an' fans a knife at me, an' me just teachin' him how! then yu has to come along i bar - an' make more trouble. now look at them fools over there,” he said, pointing at a dark shadow some fifty paces off. they're pat- tin' their backs because i don't see 'em, an' if i hurts them they'll git mad. guess i'll make v 'em dust along," he added, shooting into the spot. a howl went up and two men ran away at top speed. the sheriff nodded his sympathy and spoke. “i reckons you had better give up. you can't get away. every house, every corner and shadow holds a man. you are a brave man-but, as you say, unfortunate. better help me up and come with me—they'll tear you to pieces.' “shore i'll help yu up—i ain't got no grudge against nobody. but my friends know where i am an' they'll come down here ✓an' raise a ruction if i don't show up. so, if it's all th' same to you, i'll be ambling right along,” he said as he helped the sheriff to his feet. “have you any objections to telling me your name?” asked the sheriff as he looked himself over. i hopalong keeps his word “none whatever," answered hopalong heartily. “ i'm hopalong cassidy of th' bar , texas." “ you don't surprise me—i've heard of you,” replied the sheriff wearily. “you are the man who killed tamale josé, whom i hunted for unceasingly. i found him when you had left and i got the reward. come again some time and i'll divide with you; two hundred and fifty dollars,” he added craftily. “i shore will, but i don't want no money,” replied hopalong as he turned away. “adios, señor," he called back. adios,” replied the sheriff as he kicked a nearby door for assistance. the cow-pony tied itself up in knots as it pounded down the street toward the trail, and although he was fired on he swung into the dusty trail with a song on his lips. several hours later he stood dripping wet on the american side of the rio grande and shouted advice to a score of mexican cavalrymen on the opposite bank. then he slowly picked his way toward el paso for a game at faro dan's. bar – the sheriff sat in his easy chair one night some three weeks later, gravely engaged in rolling a cigarette. his arms were practically well, the wounds being in the aeshy parts. he was a philosopher and was disposed to take things easy, which accounted for his being in his official position for fifteen years. a gentleman at the core, he was well educated and had visited a goodly portion of the world. a book of horace lay open on his knees and on the table at his side lay a shining new re- volver, hopalong having carried off his for- mer weapon. he read aloud several lines and in reaching for a light for his cigarette noticed the new six-shooter. his mind leaped from horace to hopalong, and he smiled grimly at the latter's promise to call. glancing up, his eyes fell on a poster which conveyed the information in spanish and in english that there was offered five hundred dollars ($ ) r e w a r d for hopalong cassidy, of the ranch known as the bar- , texas, u. s. a. hopalong keeps his word and which gave a good description of that gentleman. sighing for the five hundred, he again took up his book and was lost in its pages when he heard a knock, rather low and timid. wear- ily laying aside his reading, he strode to the door, expecting to hear a lengthy complaint from one of his townsmen. as he threw the door wide open the light streamed out and lighted up a revolver and behind it the beam- ing face of a cowboy, who grinned. well, i'll be damned !” ejaculated the sheriff, starting back in amazement. “ don't say that, sheriff; you've got lots of time to reform,” replied a humorous voice. “how's th' wings ? " “almost well: you were considerate," re- sponded the sheriff. “let's go in-somebody might see me out here an' get into trouble,” suggested the vis- itor, placing his foot on the sill. “certainly—pardon my discourtesy," said the sheriff. “you see, i wasn't expecting you to-night,” he explained, thinking of the elab- orate preparations that he would have gone bar to if he had thought the irrepressible would call. “well, i was down this way, an' seeing as how i had promised to drop in i just nat- churally dropped," replied hopalong as he took the chair proffered by his host. after talking awhile on everything and nothing the sheriff coughed and looked uneas- ily at his guest. “mr. cassidy, i am sorry you called, for i like men of your energy and courage and i very much dislike to arrest you,” remarked the sheriff. “of course you understand that you are under arrest,” he added with anxiety. “who, me?" asked hopalong with a rising inflection. "most assuredly," breathed the sheriff. why, this is the first time i ever heard anything about it," · replied the astonished cow-puncher. “ i'm an american-don't that make any difference?” “ not in this case, i'm afraid. you see, it's for manslaughter." “well, don't that beat th' devil, now?" said hopalong. he felt sorry that a citizen hopalong keeps his word of the glorious united states should be prey for troublesome sheriffs, but he was sure that his duty to texas called upon him never to submit to arrest at the hands of a greaser. remembering the alamo, and still behind his colt, he reached over and took up the shining weapon from the table and snapped it open on his knee. after placing the cartridges in his pocket he tossed the gun over on the bed and, reaching inside his shirt, drew out an- other and threw it after the first. “that's yore gun; i forgot to leave it,” he said, apologetically. anyhow yu needs two," he added. then he glanced around the room, noticed the poster and walked over and read it. a full swift sweep of his gloved hand tore it from its fastenings and crammed it under his belt. the glimmer of anger in his eyes gave way as he realized that his head was worth a definite price, and he smiled at what the boys would say when he showed it to them. planting his feet far apart and placing his arms akimbo he faced his host in grim defiance. bar . “got any more of these?” he inquired, placing his hand on the poster under his belt. several," replied the sheriff. “trot'em out,” ordered hopalong shortly. the sheriff sighed, stretched and went over to a shelf, from which he took a bundle of the articles in question. turning slowly he looked at the puncher and handed them to him. i reckons they's all over this here town," remarked hopalong. they are, and you may never see texas again.” “so? well, yu tell yore most particular friends that the job is worth five thousand, and that it will take so many to do it that 'when th' mazuma is divided up it won't buy a meal. there's only one man in this country to-night that can earn that money, an' that's me ,” said the puncher. “an' i don't need it,” he added, smiling. but you are my prisoner—you are under arrest,” enlightened the sheriff, rolling an- other cigarette. the sheriff spoke as if asking hopalong keeps his word a question. never before had five hundred dollars been so close at hand and yet so unob- tainable. it was like having a check-book but no bank account. “ i'm shore sorry to treat yu mean," re- marked hopalong, “ but i was paid a month in advance an' i'll have to go back an' earn it.” "you can--if you say that you will re- turn,” replied the sheriff tentatively. the sheriff meant what he said and for the mo- ment had forgotten that he was powerless and was not the one to make terms. hopalong was amazed and for a time his ideas of greasers staggered under the blow." then he smiled sympathetically as he realized that he faced a white man. “never like to promise nothin',” he re- plied. “i might get plugged, or something might happen that wouldn't let me." then his face lighted up as a thought came to him. say, i'll cut th’ cards with yu to see if i comes back or not." the sheriff leaned back and gazed at the cool youngster before him. a smile of satis- faction, partly at the self-reliance of his guest bar – and partly at the novelty of his situation, spread over his face. he reached for a pack of mexican cards and laughed. "god! you're a cool one-i'll do it. what do you call?" red,” answered hopalong. the sheriff slowly raised his hand and revealed the ace of hearts. hopalong leaned back and laughed, at the same time taking from his pocket the six extracted cartridges. arising and going over to the bed he slipped them in the chambers of the new gun and then placed the loaded weapon at the sheriff's elbow. “well, i reckon i'll amble, sheriff," he said ✓ as he opened the door. “if yu ever sifts up my way drop in an' see me--th' boys 'll give yu a good time.” “thanks; i will be glad to," replied the sheriff. “you'll take your pitcher to the well once too often some day, my friend. this courtesy,” glancing at the restored revolver, might have cost you dearly.” “shoo! i did that once an' th' feller tried to use it," replied the cowbow as he backed hopalong keeps his word through the door. “some people are awfully careless," he added. “so long- “so long," replied the sheriff, wondering what sort of a man he had been entertaining. the door closed softly and soon after a joyous whoop floated in from the street. the sheriff toyed with the new gun and listened to the low caress of a distant guitar. “well, don't that beat hell?" he ejacu- v lated. the advent of mcallister man. saw a madly pounding horse, and it carried a the latter turned in his saddle and raised a gun to his shoulder and the thunder that issued from it caused the creeping audi- ence to throw up their tails in sudden panic and bury themselves out of sight in the sand. the horse was only a broncho, its sides cov. v ered with hideous yellow spots, and on its near flank was a peculiar scar, the brand. foam flecked from its crimsoned jaws and found a resting place on its sides and on the hairy chaps of its rider. sweat rolled and streamed from its heaving flanks and was greedily sucked up by the drought-cursed alkali. close to the rider's knee a bloody furrow ran forward and one of the broncho's ears was torn and limp. the broncho was doing its best-it could run at that pace until it dropped dead. every ounce of strength it possessed was put forth to bring those hind hoofs well in front of the forward ones and to send them pushing the sand behind in streaming clouds. the horse had done this same thing many times—when would its mas: ter learn sense? bar - the man was typical in appearance with many of that broad land. lithe, sinewy and bronzed by hard riding and hot suns, he sat in his cheyenne saddle like a centaur, all his weight on the heavy, leather-guarded stirrups, his body rising in one magnificent straight line. a bleached moustache hid the thin lips, and a gray sombrero threw a heavy shadow across his eyes. around his neck and over his open, blue flannel shirt lay loosely a knotted silk kerchief, and on his thighs a pair of open-flapped holsters swung uneasily with their ivory handled burdens. he turned abruptly, raised his gun to his shoulder and fired, then he laughed recklessly and patted his mount, which responded to the confident caress by lying flatter to the earth in a spurt of heart-breaking speed. “ i'll show 'em who they're trailin'. this is th' second time i've started for muddy wells, an' i'm goin' to git there, too, for all th' apaches out of hades! to the south another cloud of dust rapidly approached and the rider scanned it closely, for it was directly in his path. as he watched the advent of mcallister it he saw something wave and it was a som- brero! shortly afterward a real cowboy yell reached his ears. he grinned and slid an- other cartridge in the greasy, smoking barrel of the sharp's and fired again at the cloud in his rear. some few minutes later a whoop- ing, bunched crowd of madly riding cowboys thundered past him and he was recognized. . “hullo, frenchy!” yelled the nearest one. “ comin' back?" “come on, mcallister!" shouted another; we'll give 'em blazes!” in response the straining broncho suddenly stiffened, bunched and slid on its haunches, wheeled and retraced its course. the rear cloud suddenly scattered into many smaller ones and all swept off to the east. the rescuing band overtook them and, several hours later, when seated around a table in tom lee's saloon, muddy wells, a count was taken of them, which was pleas- ing in its facts. “we was huntin' coyotes when we saw yu," said a smiling puncher who was known as salvation carroll chiefly because he wasn't. “yep! they've been stalkin' tom's chick- bar - ens,” supplied waffles, the champion poker player of the outfit. tom lee's chickens could whip anything of their kind for miles around and were reverenced accordingly. “sho! is that so?” asked frenchy with mild incredulity, such a state of affairs being deplorable. “she shore is!” answered tex le blanc, and then, as an afterthought, he added, “where'd yu hit th’ war-whoops ?” 'bout four hours back. this here's th' second time i've headed for this place-last time they chased me to las cruces.” “that so ? " asked bigfoot baker, a giant. “ain't they allus interferin', now? anyhow, they're better 'n coyotes." “they was purty well heeled," suggested tex, glancing at a bunch of repeating win- chesters of late model which lay stacked in a charley here said he thought they was from th’ way yore cayuse looked, didn't yu, charley?" charley nodded and filled his pipe. 'pears like a feller can't amble around corner. the advent of mcallister much nowadays without havin' to fight,” grumbled lefty allen, who usually went out of his way hunting up trouble. “we're goin' to th' hills as soon as our cookie turns up," volunteered tenspot davis, looking inquiringly at frenchy. “heard any more news?" “nope. same old story-lots of gold. shucks, i've bit on so many of them rumors that they don't feaze me no more. one man who don't know nothin' about prospectin' goes an' stumbles over a fortune an' those who know it from a to izzard goes 'round pullin' in their belts." “we don't pull in no belts we knows just where to look, don't we, tenspot?” remarked tex, looking very wise. “ya-as we do," answered tenspot, "if yu hasn't dreamed about it, we do." “yu wait; i wasn't dreamin', none what- ever," assured tex. “i saw it!" “ya-as, i saw it too onct," replied frenchy with sarcasm. “went and lugged fifty pound of it all th' way to th' assay office—took me bar – two days; an' that there four-eyed cuss looks at it and snickers. then he takes me by th' arm an' leads me to th' window. see that pile, my friend? that's all like yourn,” sez v he. “it's worth about one simoleon a ton at th' coast. they use it for ballast.'” “aw! but this what i saw was gold!” exploded tex. “so was mine, for a while!” laughed frenchy, nodding to the bartender for an- other round. well, we're tired of punchin' cows! ride sixteen hours a day, year in an' year out, an' what do we get? fifty a month an' no chance to spend it, an' grub that 'd make a coyote sniffle! i'm for a vacation, an' if i goes broke, why, i'll punch again!" asserted waf- fles, the foreman, thus revealing the real pur- pose of the trip. “what 'd yore boss say?" asked frenchy. “whoop! what didn't he say! honest, i never thought he had it in him. it was fine. he cussed an hour frontways an' then trailed back on a dead gallop, with us a-laughin' fit to hest. then he rustles for his gun an' we the advent of mcallister rustles for town," answered waffles, laughing at his remembrance of it. as frenchy was about to reply his som- brero was snatched from his head and disap- peared. if he got mad” he was to be regarded as not sufficiently well acquainted for banter and he was at once in hot water; if he took it good-naturedly he was one of the crowd in spirit; but in either case he didn't get his hat without begging or fighting for it. this was a recognized custom among the o-bar-o outfit and was not intended as an insult. frenchy grabbed at the empty air and arose. punching lefty playfully in the ribs he passed his hands behind that person's back. not finding the lost head-gear he laughed and, tripping lefty up, fell with him and, reaching up on the table for his glass, poured the contents down lefty's back and arose. “yu son-of-a-gun!” indignantly wailed that unfortunate. “gee, it feels funny," he added, grinning as he pulled the wet shirt away from his spine. “well, i've got to be amblin',” said bar frenchy, totally ignoring the loss of his hat. “goin' down to buckskin," he offered, and then asked, “when's yore cook comin'?” day after to-morrow, if he don't get loaded,” replied tex. “ who is he?" "a one-eyed greaser-quiensabe an- tonio." “i used to know him. he's a h- of a cook. dished up th' grub one season when i was punchin' for th’ tin-cup up in mon- tana," replied frenchy. 'oh, he kin cook now, all right,” replied waffles. “that's about all he can cook. useter wash his knives in th' coffee pot an' blow on th' tins. i chased him a mile one night for leavin' sand in th' skillet. yu can have him i don't envy yu none whatever." “he don't sand no skillet when little ten- spot's around,” assured that person, slapping his holster. “does he, lefty ?” “ if he does, yu oughter be lynched," con- soled lefty. well, so long,” remarked frenchy, rid- the advent of mcallister ing off to a small store, where he bought a cheap sombrero. frenchy was a jack-of-all-trades, having been cow-puncher, prospector, proprietor of a "hotel" in albuquerque, foreinan of a ranch, sheriff, and at one time had played angel to a venturesome but poor show troupe. besides his versatility he was well known as the man who took the stage through the sioux country when no one else volunteered. he could shoot with the best, but his one pride was the brand of poker he handed out. fur- thermore, he had never been known to take an unjust advantage over any man and, on the contrary, had frequently voluntarily handi- capped himself to make the event more inter- esting. but he must not be classed as being hampered with self-restraint. his reasons for making this trip were two- fold: he wished to see buck peters, the fore- man of the bar- outfit, as he and buck had punched cows together twenty years before and were firm friends; the other was that he wished to get square with hopalong cassidy, who had decisively cleaned him out the year bar - before at poker. hopalong played either in great good luck or the contrary, while frenchy played an even, consistent game and usually left off richer than when he began, and this decisive defeat bothered him more than he would admit, even to himself. the round-up season was at hand and the bar- was short of ropers, the rumors of fresh gold discoveries in the black hills hav- ing drawn all the more restless men north. the outfit also had a slight touch of the gold fever, and only their peculiar loyalty to the ranch and the assurance of the foreman that when the work was over he would accompany them, kept them from joining the rush of those who desired sudden and much wealth as the necessary preliminary of painting some v cow town in all the “bang up” style such an event would call for. therefore they had been given orders to secure the required assist- ance, and they intended to do so, and were prepared to kidnap, if necessary, for the glamour of wealth and the hilarity of the vacation made the hours falter in their speed. ! as frenchy leaned back in his chair in bar - drawled as he pulled back the collar of the unfortunate's shirt. “ow! wow! wow!" wailed the recip- ient, heaving and straining. the unengaged leg was suddenly wrested loose, and as it shot up and out billy williams, with his pessimism aroused to a blue-ribbon pitch, sat down forci- bly in an adjacent part of the room, from where he lectured between gasps on the follies of mankind and the attributes of army mules. red tiptoed around the squirming bunch, looking for an opening, his pleased expression now having added a grin. seems to be gittin' violent-like,” he solilo- quized, as he aimed a stream at hopalong's ear, which showed for a second as pete wil- son strove for a half-nelson, and he managed to include johnny and pete in his effort. several minutes later, when the storm had subsided, the woeful crowd enthusiastically urged hopalong to the bar, where he “bought." “of all th' ornery outfits i ever saw—" began the man at the table, grinning from ear to ear at the spectacle he had just witnessed. the advent of mcallister “why, hullo, frenchy! glad to see yu, yu old son-of-a-gun! what's th' news from th' hills ? " shouted hopalong. “ rather locoed, an' there's a locoed gang that's headin' that way. goin' up?” he asked. “ shore, after round-up. seen any punch- ers trailin' around loose?” “ ya-as, drawled frenchy, delving into the possibilities suddenly opened to him and determining to utilize to the fullest extent the opportunity that had come to him unsought. “there's nine over to muddy wells that yu might git if yu wants them bad enough. they've got a sombrero of mine," he added deprecatingly. "nine! twisted jerusalem, buck! nine u whole cow-punchers a-pinin' for work,” he shouted, but then added thoughtfully, “ mebby they's engaged," it being one of the courtesies of the land not to take another man's help. "nope. they've stampeded for th' hills an' left their boss all alone,” replied frenchy, well knowing that such desertion would not, bar in the minds of the bar- men, add any merits to the case of the distant outfit. “th’sons-of-guns," said hopalong, “ let's go an' get 'em,” he suggested, turning to buck, who nodded a smiling assent. 'oh, what's the hurry?” asked frenchy, seeing his projected game slipping away into the uncertain future and happy in the thought that he would be avenged on the o-bar-o outfit. they'll be there till to-morrow noon -they's waitin' for their cookie, who's goin' with them." “a cook! a cook! oh, joy, a cook!' exulted johnny, not for one instant doubting buck's ability to capture the whole outfit and seeing a whirl of excitement in the effort. anybody we knows?” inquired skinny thompson. “shore. tenspot davis, waffles, salva- tion carroll, bigfoot baker, charley lane, lefty allen, kid morris, curley tate an' tex le blanc," responded frenchy. “umm-m. might as well rope a bliz- zard,” grumbled billy. “might as well try to git th' seventh cavalry. we'll have a the advent of mcallister pious time corralling that bunch. them's th' fellows that hit that bunch of inquirin' crow braves that time up in th' bad lands an' then said by-bye to th' ninth." aw, shut up! they's only two that's very much, an' buck an' hopalong can sing 'em to sleep,” interposed johnny, afraid that the expedition would fall through. " how about curley and tex?” pugna- ciously asked billy. ' huh, jest because they buffaloed yu over to las vegas yu needn't think they's danger- salvation an' tenspot are th' only ones who can shoot,” stoutly maintained johnny. "here yu, get mum," ordered buck to the pair. “when this outfit goes after anything it generally gets it. all in favor of kidnappin' that outfit signify th' same by kickin' billy,” whereupon bill swore. “do yu want yore hat?" asked buck, turning to frenchy. “i shore do," answered that individual. “if yu helps us at th' round-up we'll get it for yu. fifty a month an' grub," offered v the foreman. ous. bar “o. k.,” replied frenchy, anxious to even matters. buck looked at his watch. “seven o'clock we ought to get there by five if we relays at th' barred-horseshoe. come on." how are we goin' to git them?” asked billy. “yu leave that to me, son. hopalong an' frenchy 'll tend to that part of it,” replied buck, making for his horse and swinging into the saddle, an example which was followed by the others, including frenchy. as they swung off buck noticed the condi- tion of frenchy's mount and halted. "yu take that cayuse back an' get cowan's," he ordered. “ that cayuse is good for cheyenne—she eats work, an' besides i wants my own," laughed frenchy. yu must had a reg'lar picnic from th' looks of that crease," volunteered hopalong, whose curiosity was mastering him. “shoo! i had a little argument with some feather dusters—th' -bar-o crowd cleaned them up. the advent of mcallister that so?" asked buck. “yep! they sorter got into th' habit of chasin' me to las cruces an' forgot to stop." “how many 'd yu get?" asked lanky smith. “twelve. two got away. i got two before th' crowd showed up—that makes fo'teen." now th' cavalry'll be huntin' yu," croaked billy. “hunt nothin'! they was in war-paint- think i was a target ?—think i was goin' to call off their shots for 'em?" they relayed at the barred-horseshoe and went on their way at the same pace. shortly after leaving the last-named ranch buck turned to frenchy and asked, “ any of that outfit think they can play poker ? " “shore. waffles." “does th' reverend mr. waffles think so very hard?" “he shore does." do th' rest of them mavericks think so too?" “ they'd bet their shirts on him." bar - at this juncture all were startled by a sud- den eruption from billy. “haw! haw! haw!” he roared as the drift of buck's in- tentions struck him. “haw! haw! haw!" here, yu long-winded coyote,” yelled red, banging him over the head with his quirt, " if yu don't 'haw! haw!' away from my ear i'll make it a wow! wow! what d'yu ✓ mean? think i am a echo cliff? yu slab- sided doodle-bug, yu!” “g'way, yu crimson topknot, think my head's a hunk of quartz ? fer a plugged peso i'd strew yu all over th' scenery!" shouted billy, feigning anger and rubbing his head. “there ain't no scenery around here,” in- terposed lanky. “this here be-utiful pros- pect is a sublime conception of th' devil." ' easy, boy! them highfalutin' words 'll give yu a cramp some day. yu talk like a newly-made sergeant,” remarked skinny. “ he learned them words from that sky- pilot over at el paso," volunteered hopa- long, winking at red. “he used to amble down th' aisle afore the lights was lit so's he ✓ could get a front seat. that was all hunky the advent of mcallister for a while, but every time he'd go out to irrigate, that female organ-wrastler would seem to call th' music off for his special bene- fit. so in a month he'd sneak in an' freeze to a chair by th' door, an' after a while he'd shy like blazes every time he got within eye range of th' church.” “shore. but do yu know what made him get religion all of a sudden? he used to hang around on th' outside after th' joint let v out an' trail along behind th' music-slinger, lookin' like he didn't know what to do with his hands. then when he got woozy one time she up an' told him that she had got a nice long letter from her hubby. then mr. lanky hit th' trail for santa fé so hard that there wasn't hardly none of it left. i didn't see him for a whole month," supplied red innocently. “yore shore funny, ain't yu? "sarcastically grunted lanky. “why, i can tell things on yu that 'd make yu stand treat for a year." “i wouldn't sneak off to santa fé an cheat yu out of them. yu ought to be ashamed of yoreself.” bar- " about “yah!” snorted the aggrieved little man. “i had business over to santa fél” shore," indorsed hopalong. "we've all had business over to santa fé. why, about eight years ago i had business" “choke up,” interposed red. eight years ago yu was washin' pans for cookie an' askin' me for cartridges. buck used to larrup yu about four times a day eight years ago. to their roars of laughter hopalong dropped to the rear, where, red-faced and quiet, he bent his thoughts on how to get square. “we'll have a pleasant time corralling that gang," began billy for the third time. “for heaven's sake get off that traill" replied lanky. “we ain't goin' to hold 'em up. de-plomacy's th' game." billy looked dubious and said nothing. if he hadn't proven that he was as nervy as any man in the outfit they might have taken more stock in his grumbling. “what's the latest from abilene way?" asked buck of frenchy. the advent of mcallister “nothin' much 'cept th' barb-wire rucov tion," replied the recruit. “what's that?" asked red, glancing ap- prehensively back at hopalong. why, th' settlers put up barb-wire fence so's th' cattle wouldn't get on their farms. that would a been all right, for there wasn't much of it. but some britishers who own a couple of big ranches out there got smart all of a sudden an' strung wire all along their lines. punchers crossin' th' country would run plumb into a fence an' would have to ride a day an'a half, mebby, afore they found th' corner. well, naturally, when a man has been used to ridin' where he blanie pleases an' as straight as he pleases he ain't goin' to chase along a five-foot fence to 'frisco when he wants to get to waco. so th' punchers got to totin' wire-snips, an' when they runs up agin a fence they cuts down half a mile or so. sometimes they'd tie their ropes to a strand an' pull off a couple of miles an' then go back after th' rest. th' ranch bosses sent out men to watch th' fences an' told 'em to shoot any festive puncher that monkeyed with th' hard bar - ware. well, yu know what happens when a puncher gets shot at." “when fences grow in texas there'll be th' devil to pay,” said buck. he hated to think that some day the freedom of the range would be annulled, for he knew that it would be the first blow against the cowboys' occupa- tion. when a man's cattle couldn't spread out all over the land he wouldn't have to keep so many men. farms would spring up and the sun of the free-and-easy cowboy would slowly set. “i reckons th' cutters are classed th' same as rustlers," remarked red with a gleam of temper. by th' owners, but not by th' punchers; an' it's th' punchers that count,” replied frenchy. “well, we'll give them a fight,” interposed hopalong, riding up. “when it gets so i can't go where i please i'll start on th' war- path. i won't buck the cavalry, but i'll keep it busy huntin' for me an' i'll have time to 'tend to th' wire-fence men, too. why, we'll be told we can't tote our guns!” “ they're sayin' sayin' that that now," replied the advent of mcallister frenchy. “up in topeka, smith, who's now marshal, makes yu leave 'em with th' bar- tenders." “i'd like to see any two-laigged cuss get my guns if i didn't want him to!” began hopalong, indignant at the idea. “easy, son," cautioned buck. “yu would do what th' rest did because yu are a square man. i'm about as hard-headed a puncher as ever straddled leather an' i've had to use my guns purty considerable, but i reckons if any decent marshal asked me to cache them in a decent way, why, i'd do it. an' let me brand somethin' on yore mind—i've heard of smith of topeka, an' he's mighty nifty with his hands. he don't stand off an' tell yu to unload yore lead-ranch, but he ambles up close an' taps yu on yore shirt; if yu makes a gun.“ play he naturally knocks yu clean across th' room an' unloads yu afore yu gets yore senses back. he weighs about a hundred an' eighty an' he's shore got sand to burn." " yah! when i makes a gun play she plays! i'd look nice in abilene or paso or albuquerque without my guns, wouldn't i? just because i totes them in plain sight i've bar - got to hand 'em over to some liquor-wrastler? i reckons not! some hip-pocket skunk would plug me afore i could wink. i'd shore look nice loping around a keno layout without my guns, in th' same town with some cuss huntin' me, wouldn't i? a whole lot of good a mar. shal would a done jimmy, an' didn't harris get his from a cur in th' dark?" shouted hopalong, angered by the prospect. “we're talkin' about topeka, where everybody has to hang up their guns," replied buck. "an' there's th' law " “to blazes with th' law!" whooped hop- along in red's ear as he unfastened the cinch of red's saddle and at the same time stabbing that unfortunate's mount with his spurs, thereby causing a hasty separation of the two. when red had picked himself up and things had quieted down again the subject was changed, and several hours later they rode into muddy wells, a town with a little more excuse for its existence than buckskin. the wells were in an arid valley west of guada- loupe pass, and were not only muddy but more or less alkaline. chapter x peace hath its victories a s they neared the central group of build- ings they heard a hilarious and assertive song which sprang from the door and win- dows of the main saloon. it was in jig time, rollicking and boisterous, but the words had evidently been improvised for the occasion, as they clashed immediately with those which sprang to the minds of the outfit, although they could not be clearly distinguished. as they approached nearer and finally dis- mounted, however, the words became recog- nizable and the visitors were at once placed in harmony with the air of jovial recklessness by the roaring of the verses and the stamping of the time. ob we're red-hot cow-punchers playin' on our luck, an' there ain't a proposition that we won't buck: from sunrise to sunset we've ridden on the range, but now we're off for a howlin' change. bar chorus. laugh a little, sing a little, all th' day; play a little, drink a little—we can pay; ride a little, dig a little an' rich we'll grow. oh, we're that bunch from th' -bar-o! oh, there was a little tenderfoot an' he had a little gun, an' th' gun an' him went a-trailin' up some fun. they ambles up to santa fé to find a quiet game, an' now they're planted with some more of th' same ! as hopalong, followed by the others, pushed open the door and entered he took up the chorus with all the power of texan lungs and even billy joined in. the sight that met their eyes was typical of the men and the mood and the place. leaning along the walls, lounging on the table and straddling chairs with their forearms crossed on the backs were nine cowboys, ranging from old twenty to young fifty in years, and all were shouting the song and keeping time with their hands and feet. in the center of the room was a large man dancing a fair buck-and-wing to the time so uproariously set by his compan- ions. hatless, neck-kerchief loose, holsters flapping, chaps rippling out and close, spurg clinking and perspiration streaming from his peace hath its victories tanned face, danced bigfoot baker as though his life depended on speed and noise. bottles shook and the air was fogged with smoke and dust. suddenly, his belt slipping and letting his chaps fall around his ankles, he tripped and sat down heavily. gasping for breath, he held out his hand and received a huge plug of tobacco, for bigfoot had won a contest. shouts of greeting were hurled at the new- comers and many questions were fired at them regarding “th' latest from th' hills.” waf- files made a rush for hopalong, but fell over bigfoot's feet and all three were piled up in a heap. all were beaming with good nature, for they were as so many schoolboys playing truant. prosaic cow-punching was relegated to the rear and they looked eagerly forward to their several missions. frenchy told of the barb-wire fence war and of the new regu- lations of “smith of topeka smith of topeka " regarding cow-punchers' guns, and from the caustic re- marks explosively given it was plain to be seen what a wire fence could expect, should one be met with, and there were many imag- inary smiths put hors de combat. bar kid morris, after vainly trying to slip a blue-bottle fly inside of hopalong's shirt, gave it up and slammed his hand on hopalong's back instead, crying: “well, i'll be dog- v goned if here ain't hopalong! how's th' missus an' th' deacon an' all th' folks to hum? i hears yu an' frenchy's reg'lar poker fiends !" “oh, we plays onct in a while, but we don't want none of yore dust. yu'll shore need it all afore th' hills get through with yu,” laughingly replied hopalong. “oh, yore shore kind! but i was a sort of reckonin' that we needs some more. perfes. ser p. d. q. waffles is our poker man an' he shore can clean out anything i ever saw. mebby yu fellers feel reckless-like an’ would like to make a pool,” he cried, addressing the outfit of the bar- , “an' back yore boss of th' full house agin ourn?" red turned slowly around and took a full minute in which to size the kid up. then he snorted and turned his back again. the kid stared at him in outraged dignity. well, what t'ell!” he softly murmured. then he leaped forward and walloped red peace hath its victories on the back. "hey, yore royal highness!” he shouted. “yu-yu-yu-oh, hang it-yu! yu slab-sided, ring-boned, saddle-galled shade of a coyote, do yu think i'm only meanderin' in th' misty vales of-of-" suggestions intruded from various sources. "hades?" offered hopalong. “ chey- enne?” murmured johnny. “misty misti- ness of misty ? ” tentatively supplied waffles. red turned around again. “better come up an' have somethin',” he sympathetically invited, wiping away an imaginary tear. 'an' he's so young!” sobbed frenchy. “ an' so fair!" wailed tex. an' so ornery!” howled lefty, throwing his arms around the discomfited youngster. other arms went around him, and out of the sobbing mob could be heard earnest and heart- felt cussing, interspersed with imperative commands, which were gradually obeyed. the kid straightened up his wearing ap- parel. “come on, yu locoed- angels ? " queried charley lane, inter- rupting him. “sweet things?” breathed hopalong in hopeful expectancy. bar - “oh, dan it!" yelled the kid as he ran out into the street to escape the persecution. “good kid, all right,” remarked waffles. “he'll go around an' lick some greaser an' come back sweet as honey." 'did somebody say, poker ? ” asked big- foot, digressing from the kid. “oh, yu fellows don't want no poker. of course yu don't. poker's mighty uncertain," replied red. “yah!” exclaimed tex le blanc, pushing forward. i'll just bet yu to a standstill that waffles an' salvation 'll round up all th' fes- tive simoleons yu can get together! an' i'll throw in frenchy's hat as an inducement." well, if yore shore set on it make her a pool," replied red, “an' th' winners divide with their outfit. here's a starter," he added, tossing a buckskin bag on the table. on, pile 'em up.' the crowd divided as the players seated themselves at the table, the o-bar-o crowd grouping themselves behind their representa- tives; the bar- behind theirs. a deck of cards was brought and the game was on. " come peace hath its victories red, true to his nature, leaned back in a corner, where, hands on hips, he awaited any hostile demonstration on the part of the o-bar-o; then, suddenly remembering, he looked half ashamed of his warlike position and became a peaceful citizen again. buck leaned with his broad back against the bar, talking over his shoulder to the bartender, but watching tenspot davis, who was assid- uously engaged in juggling a handful of mex- ican dollars. up by the door bigfoot baker, elated at winning the buck-and-wing contest, was endeavoring to learn a new step, while his late rival was drowning his defeat at buck's elbow. lefty allen was softly singing a mexican love song, humming when the words would not come. at the table could be heard low-spoken card terms and good-natured ban- ter, interspersed with the clink of gold and silver and the soft pat-pat of the onlookers' feet unconsciously keeping time to lefty's song. notwithstanding the grim assertive- ness of belts full of . 's and the peeping handles of long-barreled colts, set off with picturesque chaps, sombreros and tinkling bar spurs, the scene was one of peaceful content and good-fellowship. 'ugh!" grunted johnny, walking over to red and informing that person that he, red, was a worm-eaten prune and that for half a wink he, johnny, would prove it. red grabbed him by the seat of his corduroys and the collar of his shirt and helped him outside, where they strolled about, taking pot shots at whatever their fancy suggested. down the street in a cloud of dust rumbled the las cruces-el paso stage and the two punchers went up to meet it. raw furrows showed in the woodwork, one mule was miss- ing and the driver and guard wore fresh band- ages. a tired tenderfoot leaped out with a sigh of relief and hunted for his baggage, which he found to be generously perforated. swearing at the god-forsaken land where a man had to fight highwaymen and indians inside of half a day he grumblingly lugged his valise toward a forbidding-looking shack which was called a hotel. the driver released his teams and then turned to red. hullo, old hoss, how's th' peace hath its victories gang?” he asked genially. “we've had a h- of a time this yere trip,” he went on without waiting for red to reply. “five miles out of las crues we stood off a son-of- a-gun that wanted th' dude's wealth. then just this side of the san andre foothills we runs into a bunch of young bucks who turned us off this yere way an' gave us a runnin' fight purty near all th' way. i'm a whole lot far- ther from paso now than i was when i started, an' seein' as i lost a jack i'll be some time gittin' there. yu don't happen to sabe a jack i can borrow, do yu?” “i don't know about no jack, but i'll rope yu a bronch," offered red, winking at johnny. “i'll pull her myself before i'll put dyna- mite in th' traces," replied the driver. “yu fellers might amble back a ways with me them buddin' warriors 'll be layin' for me." “we shore will," responded johnny eagerly. “there's nine of us now an' there'll be nine more an' a cook to-morrow, mebby.” “gosh, yu grows some,” replied the guard. eighteen'll be a plenty for them glory hunters." bar - we won't be able to," contradicted red, “ for things are peculiar." at this moment the conversation was inter- ✓rupted by the tenderfoot, who sported a new and cheap sombrero and also a belt and holster complete. “will you gentlemen join me?" he asked, turning to red and nodding at the saloon. “ i am very dry and much averse to drinking alone." why, shore,” responded red heartily, wishing to put the stranger at ease. the game was running about even as they entered and lefty allen was singing “ the insult," the rich tenor softening the harshness of the surroundings. the insult i've swum th' colorado where she runs down clost to hell, i've braced th' faro layouts in cheyenne; i've fought for muddy water with a howlin' bunch of sioux, an' swallowed hot tamales, an' cayenne. i've rid a pitchin' broncho 'till th’ sky was underneath, i've tackled every desert in th' land; i've sampled xxxx whiskey 'till i couldn't hardly see, an' dallied with th' quicksands of the grande. peace hath its victories i've argued with th' marshals of a half-a-dozen burgs, i've been dragged free an' fancy by a cow'; i've had three years' campaignin' with th' fightin', bitin' ninth an' never lost my temper 'till right now. i've had the yaller fever an' i've been shot full of holes, i've grabbed an army mule plumb by its tail; i've never been so snortin', really highfalutin' mad as when y'u up an' hands me ginger ale! hopalong laughed joyously at a remark made by waffles and the stranger glanced quickly at him. his merry, boyish face, un- derlined by a jaw showing great firmness and set off with an expression of aggressive self- reliance, impressed the stranger and he re- marked to red, who lounged lazily near him, that he was surprised to see such a face on so young a man and he asked who the player was. “oh, his name's hopalong cassidy,” an- swered red: “he's th' cuss that raised that ruction down in mexico last spring. rode his cayuse in a saloon and played with the loungers and had to shoot one before he got out. when he did get out he had to fight a whole bunch of greasers an' even potted their bar - marshal, who had th' drop on him. then he returned and visited the marshal about a month later, took his gun away from him an' then cut th' cards to see if he was a prisoner or not. he's a shore funny cuss. the tenderfoot gasped his amazement. “are you not fooling with me?” he asked. “tell him yu came after that five hundred dollars reward and see," answered red good- naturedly. “holy smoke!” shouted waffles as hop- along won his sixth consecutive pot. “did yu ever see such luck?" frenchy grinned and some time later raked in his third. salva- tion then staked his last cent against hopa- long's flush and dropped out. tenspot aipped to waffles the money he had been juggling and lefty searched his clothes for wealth. buck, still leaning against the bar, grinned and winked at johnny, who was pouring hair-raising tales into the recep- tive ears of the stranger. thereupon johnny confided to his newly found acquaintance the facts about the game, nearly causing that per- son to explode with delight. peace hath its victories waffles pushed back his chair, stood up and stretched. at the finish of a yawn he grinned at his late adversary. “i'm all in, yu old son-of-a-gun. yu shore can play draw. i'm goin' to try yu again some time. i was beat fair an' square an' i ain't got no kick comin', none whatever," he remarked, as he shook hands with hopalong. "oh, we're that gang from th' o-bar- ,'” hummed the kid as he sauntered in. one cheek was slightly swollen and his clothes shed dust at every step. "who wins ?” he inquired, not having heard waffles. "they did, -n it!" exploded bigfoot. one of the kid's peculiarities was revealed in the unreasoning and hasty conclusions he arrived at. from no desire to imply unfair- ness, but rather because of his bitterness against failure of any kind and his loyalty to waffles, came his next words: “mebby they skinned yu." like a flash waffles sprang before him, his hand held up, palm out. “he don't mean nothin'-he's only a d-n-fool kidl" he cried. bar - buck smiled and wrested the colt from johnny's ever-ready hand. " here's an- other," he said. red laughed softly and rolled johnny on the floor. yu jackass," he whispered, “ don't yu know better'n to make a gun-play when we needs them all?" “what are we goin' to do?” asked tex, glancing at the bulging pockets of hopalong's chaps. “we're goin' to punch cows again, that's what we're goin' to do," answered bigfoot dismally. “ an' whose are we goin' to punch? we can't go back to the old man," grumbled tex. salvation looked askance at buck and then at the others. “mebby," he began," mebby we kin git a job on th' bar- .” then turning to buck again he bluntly asked, “are yu short of punchers ? " well, i might use some," answered the foreman, hesitating. * but i ain't got only one cook, an'' “we'll git yu th' cook all . k.," inter- rupted charley lane vehemently. “hi, yu peace hath its victories cook!” he shouted, “amble in here an' git a rustle on!” there was no reply, and after waiting for a minute he and waffles went into the rear room, from which there immediately issued great chunks of profanity and noise. they returned looking pugnacious and disgusted, with a wildly fighting man who was more full of liquor than was the bottle which he bellig- erently waved. “ this here animated distillery what yu sees is our cook," said waffles. "we eats his grub, nobody else. if he gits drunk that's our funeral; but he won't get drunk! if yu wants us to punch for yu say so an' we does; if yu don't, we don't." "well,” replied buck thoughtfully, “meb- by i can use yu." then with a burst of reck- lessness he added, “yes, if i lose my job! but yu might sober that greaser up if yu let him fall in th' horse trough. as the procession wended its way on its mission of wet charity, carrying the cook in any manner at all, frenchy waved his long- bar lost sombrero at buck, who stood in the door, and shouted, “ yu old son-of-a-gun, i'm proud to know yu!” buck smiled and snapped his watch shut. “ time to amble,” he said. bar and groups of madly riding cowboys, and two cook wagons were stalled a short distance from the corral. the round-up of the bar- was taking place, and each of the two outfits tried to outdo the other and each individual strove for a prize. the man who cut out and dragged to the fire the most calves in three days could leave for the black hills at the expiration of that time, the rest to fol- low as soon as they could. in this contest hopalong cassidy led his nearest rival, red connors, both of whom were bar- men, by twenty cut-outs, and there remained but half an hour more in which to compete. as red disappeared into the sea of tossing horns hopalong dashed out with a whoop, dragging a calf at the end of his rope. “ hi, yu trellis-built rack of bones, come along there! whoop!" he yelled, turning the prisoner over to the squad by the fire. “chalk up this here insignificant wart of cross-eyed perversity: an' how many?” he called as he galloped back to the corral. “one ninety-eight," announced buck, holding the claim “yu looks so nice and cool, an' clean, i didn't know," responded hopalong, eyeing a streak of sweat and dust which ran from red's eyes to his chin and then on down his neck. • what yu been doin'? plowin' with yore nose ? " returned red, smiling blandly at his friend's appearance. “yah!” snorted hopalong, wheeling to- ward the corral. “come on, yu pie-eatin' doodle-bug; i'll beat yu to th' gate!' the two ponies sent showers of sand all over billy, who eyed them in pugnacious dis- gust. “of all th' locoed imps that ever made life miserable fer a man, them's th' worst! is there any piece of fool nonsense they hain't harnessed me with ?” he beseeched of buck. “is there anything they hain't done to me? they hides my liquor; they stuffs th’ sweat band of my hat with rope; they ties up my pants; they puts water in my boots an' toads in my bunk-ain't they never goin' to get sane?! oh, they're only kids—they can't help bar it," offered buck. ' didn't they hobble my cayuse when i was on him an' near bust my neck?" hopalong interrupted the conversation by bringing up another calf, and buck, glancing at his watch, declared the contest at an end. "yu wins," he remarked to the newcomer. “ an' now yu get scarce or billy will shore straddle yore nerves. he said as how he was goin' to get square on yu to-night.” i didn't, neither, hoppy!" earnestly con- tradicted billy, who had visions of a night spent in torment as a reprisal for such a threat. "honest i didn't, did i, johnny ?” he asked appealingly. “yu shore did,” lied johnny, winking at red, who had just ridden up. “i don't know what yore talkin' about, but yu shore did,” replied red. “ if yu did," grinneu hopalong, “i'll shore make yu hard to find. come on, fel- lows,” he said; "grub's ready. where's frenchy?" over chewin' th' rag with waffles about his hat-he's lost it again," answered red. holding the claim “he needs a guardian fer that bonnet. thi kid an' salvation has jammed it in th' corral fence an' waffles has to stand fer it." “let's put it in th' grub wagon an' see him cuss cookie," suggested hopalong. “shore,” indorsed johnny; “cookie'll feed him bum grub for a week to get square.' hopalong and johnny ambled over to the corral and after some trouble located the missing sombrero, which they carried to the grub wagon and hid in the flour barrel. then they went over by the excited owner and dropped a few remarks about how strange the cook was acting and how he was watch- ing frenchy. frenchy jumped at the bait and tore over to the wagon, where he and the cook spent some time in mutual recrimination. hop- along nosed around and finally dug up the hat, white as new-fallen snow. “ here's a hat-found it in th' dough barrel,” he announced, handing it over to frenchy, who received it in open-mouthed stupefaction. “yu pie-makin' pirate! yu didn't know bar - where my lid was, did yu! yu cross-eyed lump of hypocrisy ! ” yelled frenchy, dusting off the flour with one full-armed swing on the cook's face, driving it into that unfortunate's nose and eyes and mouth. “yu white-washed ✓ chink, yu-rub yore face with water an' yu've got pancakes." hey! what you doin'!” yelled the cook, kicking the spot where he had last seen frenchy. “don't yu know better'n that!” “yu live close to yoreself or i'll throw yu so high th' sun'll duck," replied frenchy, a smile illuminating his face. “hey, cookie," remarked hopalong con- fidentially, “i know who put up this joke on yu. yu ask billy who hid th' hat,” suggested the tease. here he comes now-see how queer he looks." “th’mournful piute," ejaculated the cook. “i'll shore make him wish he'd kept on his own trail. i'll flavor his slush (coffee) with year-old dish-rags!” at this juncture billy ambled up, keeping his weather eye peeled for trouble. “ who's a dish-rag?” he queried. the cook mumbled holding the claim something about crazy hens not knowing when to quit cackling and climbed up in his wagon. and that night billy swore off drinking coffee. when the dawn of the next day broke, hopalong was riding toward the black hills, leaving billy to untie himself as best he might. the trip was uneventful and several days later he entered red dog, a rambling shanty town, one of those western mushrooms that sprang up in a night. he took up his stand at the miner's rest, and finally secured six claims at the cost of nine hundred hard-earned dollars, a fund subscribed by the outfits, as it was to be a partnership affair. he rode out to a staked-off piece of hill- side and surveyed his purchase, which con- sisted of a patch of ground, six holes, six piles of dirt and a log hut. the holes showed that the claims had been tried and found want. ing. he dumped his pack of tools and provis- ions, which he had bought on the way up, and lugged them into the cabin. after satisfying his curiosity he went outside and sat down for a smoke, figuring up in his mind how much bar - gold he could carry on a horse. then, as he realized that he could get a pack mule to carry the surplus, he became aware of a strange presence near at hand and looked up into the muzzle of a sharp's rifle. he grasped the situation in a flash and calmly blew several heavy smoke rings around the frowning barrel. “well?” he asked slowly. “nice day, stranger,” replied the man with the rifle, “but don't yu reckon yu've made a mistake?” hopalong glanced at the number burned on a near-by stake and carelessly blew another smoke ring. he was waiting for the gun to waver. “ no, i reckons not,” he answered. “why?" “well, i'll jest tell yu asks. this yere claim's mine an' i'm a reg'lar terror, that's why; an' seein' as it is, yu better amble some.” hopalong glanced down the street and saw an interested group watching him, which only added to his rage for being in such a since yu am. holding the claim position. then he started to say something, faltered and stared with horror at a point several feet behind his opponent. the “ter- ror sprang to one side in response to hop- along's expression, as if fearing that a snake or some such danger threatened him. as he alighted in his new position he fell forward and hopalong slid a smoking colt in its holster. several men left the distant group and ran toward the claim. hopalong reached his arm inside the door and brought forth his sharp's rifle, with which he covered their advance. "anything yu want?” he shouted sav- agely. the men stopped and two of them started to sidle in front of two others, but hopalong was not there for the purpose of permitting a move that would screen any gun play and he stopped the game with a warning shout. then the two held up their hands and ad- vanced. we wants to git dan," called out one of them, nodding at the prostrate figure. bar come. “come ahead," replied hopalong, sub- stituting a colt for the rifle. they carried their badly wounded and in- sensible burden back to those whom they had left, and several curses were hurled at the cowboy, who only smiled grimly and entered the hut to place things ready for a siege, should one he had one hundred rounds of ammunition and provisions enough for two weeks, with the assurance of rein- forcements long before that time would ex- pire. he cut several rough loopholes and laid out his weapons for quick handling. he knew that he could stop any advance during the day and planned only for night attacks. how long he could go without sleep did not bother him, because he gave it no thought, as he was accustomed to short naps and could awaken at will or at the slightest sound. as dusk merged into dark he crept forth and collected several handfuls of dry twigs, which he scattered around the hut, as the cracking of these would warn him of an ap- proach. then he went in and went to sleep. holding the claim he awoke at daylight after a good night's rest, and feasted on canned beans and peaches. then he tossed the cans out of the door and shoved his hat out. receiving no response he walked out and surveyed the town at his feet. a sheepish grin spread over his face as he realized that there was no danger. sev- eral red-shirted men passed by him on their way to town, and one, a grizzled veteran of many gold camps, stopped and sauntered up to him. “mornin'," said hopalong. mornin'," replied the stranger. “i thought i'd drop in an' say that i saw that gun-play of yourn yesterday. yu ain't got no reason to look fer a rush. this camp is half white men an' half bullies, and th' white v men won't stand fer no play like that. them fellers that jest passed are neighbors of yourn, an' they won't lay abed if yu needs them. but yu wants to look out fer th' joints in th' town. guess this business is out of yore line," he finished as he sized hopalong up. “she shore is, but i'm here to stay. got bar_ tired of punchin' an' reckoned i'd git rich.” here he smiled and glanced at the hole. how're yu makin' out?” he asked. “ 'bout five dollars a day apiece, but that ain't nothin' when grub's so high. got reck- less th' other day an' had a egg at fifty cents. hopalong whistled and glanced at the empty cans at his feet. “any marshal in this burg?" yep. but he's one of th' gang. no good, an' drunk half th' time an' half drunk th' rest. better come down an' have some- thing," invited the miner. “i'd shore like to, but i can't let no gang get in that door," replied the puncher. oh, that's all right; i'll call my pardner down to keep house till yu gits back. he can hold her all right. hey, jakel ” he called to a man who was some hundred paces dis- tant; come down here an' keep house till we gits back, will yu?' the man lumbered down to them and took possession as hopalong and his newly found friend started for the town. they entered the “miner's rest ” and holding the claim hupalong fixed the room in his mind with one swift glance. three men—and they looked like the crowd he had stopped before—were playing poker at a table near the window. hopalong leaned with his back to the bar and talked, with the players always in sight. soon the door opened and a bewhiskered, heavy-set man tramped in, and walking up to hopalong, looked him over. “huh," he sneered, “yu are th' gent with th' festive guns that plugged dan, ain't yu? hopalong looked at him in the eyes and quietly replied: “an' who th' h– are yu ?" the stranger's eyes blazed and his face wrinkled with rage as he aggressively shoved his jaw close to hopalong's face. “yu runt, i'm a better man than yu even if yu do wear hair pants," referring to hopa- long's chaps. “yu cow-wrastlers make me tired, an' i'm goin' to show yu that this town is too good for you. yu can say it right now that yu are a ornery, game-leg- hopalong, blind with rage, smashed his insulter squarely between the eyes with all the power of his sinewy body behind the blow, bar - knocking him in a heap under the table. then he quickly glanced at the card players and saw a hostile movement. his gun was out in a flash and he covered the trio as he walked up to them. never in all his life had he felt such a desire to kill. his eyes were diamond points of accumulated fury, and those whom he faced quailed before him. “yu scum of th' earth! draw, please draw! pull yore guns an’ gimme my chance! three to one, an' i'll lay my guns here," he said, placing them on the bar and removing his hands. nearer my god to thee' is purty appropriate fer yu just now! yu seem to be a-scared of yore own guns. git down on yore dirty knees an' say good an' loud that yu eats dirt! shout out that yu are too currish to live with decent men,” he said, even-toned and distinct, his voice vibrant with passion as he took up his colts. down!” he repeated, shoving the weapons forward and pulling back the hammers. the trio glanced at each other, and all three dropped to their knees and repeated in "get holding the claim venomous hatred the words hopalong said for them. “now git! an' if i sees yu when i leaves i'll send yu after yore friend. i'll shoot on sight now. git!” he escorted them to the door and kicked the last one out. his miner friend still leaned against the bar and looked his approval. “well done, youngster! but yu wants to look out—that man," pointing to the now groping victim of hopalong's blow, "is th' marshal of this town. he or his pals will get yu if yu don't watch th' corners." hopalong walked over to the marshal, jerked him to his feet and slammed him against the bar. then he tore the cheap badge from its place and threw it on the floor. reaching down, he drew the mar- shal's revolver from its holster and shoved it in its owner's hand. “ yore th' marshal of this place an' it's too good for me, but yore goin' to pick up that tin lie," pointing at the badge, “an' yore goin' to do it right now. then yore bar goin' to get kicked out of that door, an' if yu stops runnin' while i can see yu i'll fill yu so full of holes yu'll catch cold. yore a sumptious marshal, yu are! yore th' snort- ingest ki-yi that ever stuck its tail atween its laigs, yu are. yu pop-eyed wall flower, yu wants to peep to yoreself or some papoose 'll slide yu over th' divide so fast yu won't have time to grease yore pants. pick up that license-tag an' let me see you perculate so lively that yore back 'll look like a ten-cent piece in five seconds. flit!” the marshal, dazed and bewildered, stooped and fumbled for the badge. then he stood up and glanced at the gun in his hand and at the eager man before him. he slid the weapon in his belt and drew his hand across his fast-closing eyes. cursing streaks of profanity, he staggered to the door and landed in a heap in the street from the force of hopalong's kick. struggling to his feet, he ran unsteadily down the block and disap- peared around a corner. the bartender, cool and unperturbed, pushed out three glasses on his treat: “ i've holding the claim seen yu afore, up in cheyenne-'member? how's yore friend red?” he asked as he filled the glasses with the best the house afforded. “well, shore 'nuff! glad glad to see yu, jimmy! what yu doin' away off here? asked hopalong, beginning to feel at home. “oh, jest filterin' round like. i'm awful glad to see yu—this yere wart of a town needs siftin' out. it was only last week i was wishin' one of yore bunch 'ud show up-that ornament yu jest buffaloed shore raised th' devil in here, an' i wished i had somebody to prospect his anatomy for a lead mine. but he's goi a tough gang circulating with him. ever hear of dutch shannon or blinky neary? they's with him." “dutch shannon ? nope," he replied. “bad eggs, an' not a-carin' how they gits square. th' feller yu' salted yesterday was v a bosom friend of th' marshal's, an' he passed in his chips last night.” "so?" “ yep. bought a bottle of ready-made nerve an' went to his own funeral. aristotle bar – smith was lookin' fer him up in cheyenne last year. aristotle said he'd give a century fer five minutes' palaver with him, but he shied th' town an' didn't come back. yu know aristotle, don't yu? he's th' geezer that made fame up to poison knob three years ago. he used to go to town ridin' astride a log on th' lumber flume. made four miles in six minutes with th' promise of a ruction when he stopped. once when he was loaded he tried to ride back th' same way he came, an' ' th' first thing he knowed he was three miles farther from his supper an' a-slippin' dowrı that valley like he wanted to go somewhere. he swum out at potter's dam an' it took him a day to walk back. but he didn't make that play again, because he was frequently sober, an' when he wasn't he'd only stand off an' swear at th' slide." that's aristotle, all hunk. he's th' chap that used to play checkers with deacon raw- lins. they used empty an' loaded shells for men, an' when they got a king they'd lay one on its side. sometimes they'd jar th' board holding the claim an' they'd all be kings an' then they'd have a cussin' match," replied hopalong, once more restored to good humor. “why,” responded jimmy, "he counted his wealth over twice by mistake an' shore raised a howl when he went to blow it- thought he'd been robbed, an' laid behind th' houses fer a week lookin' fer th' feller that done it." “i've heard of that cuss—he shore was th' limit. what become of him?” asked the miner. “he ambled up to laramie an' stuck his head in th' window of that joint by th' plaza an' hollered 'fire,' an' they did. he was shore a good feller, all th' same," answered the bartender. hopalong laughed and started for the door. turning around he looked at his miner friend and asked: “comin' along? i'm goin' back now." nope. reckon i'll hit th’ tiger a whirl. i'll stop in when i passes. “ all right. so long," replied hopalong, bar - slipping out of the door and watching for trouble. there was no opposition shown him, and he arrived at his claim to find jake in a heated argument with another of the gang. 'here he comes now," he said as hopa- long walked up. “tell him what yu said to me." " i said yu made a mistake," said the other, turning to the cowboy in a half apologetic manner. “ an' what else?” insisted jake. why, ain't that all? ” asked the claim- jumper's friend in feigned surprise, wishing that he had kept quiet. “well i reckons it is if yu can't back up yore words,” responded jake in open con- tempt. hopalong grabbed the intruder by the collar of his shirt and hauled him off the claim. “ yu keep off this, understand ? i just kicked yore marshal out in th' street, an' i'll pay yu th' next call. if yu rambles in range of my guns yu'll shore get in th’ way of holding the claim a slug yu an' yore gang wants to browse on th' far side of th' range or yu'll miss a sun- rise some mornin'. scoot!" hopalong turned to his companion and smiled. “what 'd he say?" he asked genially. oh, he jest shot off his mouth a little. they's all no good. i've collided with lots of them all over this country. they can't face a good man an' keep their nerve. what'd yu say to th' marshal?": “i told him what he was an' threw him outen th' street,” replied hopalong. “in about two weeks we'll have a new marshal an' he'll shore be a dandy.” “yes? why don't yu take th' job yore- self? we're with yu." “ better man comin'. ever hear of buck peters or red connors of th' bar- , texas?" “buck peters? seems to me i have. did he punch fer th' tin-cup up in montana, 'bout twenty years back?" “shorel him and frenchy mcallister bar punched all over that country an' they used to paint cheyenne, too,” replied hopalong, eagerly. “i knows him, then. i used to know frenchy, too. are they comin' up here?" “yes,” responded hopalong, struggling with another can while waiting for the fire to catch up. “better have some grub with me-don't like to eat alone,” invited the cow- boy, the reaction of his late rage swinging him to the other extreme. when their tobacco had got well started at the close of the meal and content had taken possession of them hopalong laughed quietly and finally spoke: did yu ever know aristotle smith when yu was up in montana?" “ did i! well, me an' aristotie pros- pected all through that country till he got so locoed i had to watch him fer fear he'd blow us both up. he greased th' fryin' pan with dynamite one night, an' we shore had to eat jerked meat an' canned stuff all th' rest of that trip. what made yu ask? is he comin' up too?" holding the claim “no, i reckons not. jimmy, th' bar- tender, said that he cashed in up at laramie. wasn't he th' cuss that built that boat out there on th' arizona desert because he was scared that a flood might come? th' sun shore warped that punt till it wasn't even good for a hencoop." “nope. that was sister-annie tomp- kins. he was purty near as bad as aristotle, though. he roped a puma up on th' sacra- mentos, an' didn't punch no more fer three weeks. well, here comes my pardner an' i reckons i'll amble right along. if yu needs any referee or a side pardner in any ruction yu has only got to warble up my way. so long." the next ten days passed quietly and on the afternoon of the eleventh hopalong's miner friend paid him a visit. " jake recommends yore peaches," he laughed as he shook hopalong's hand. “he says yu boosted another of that crowd. that bein' so i thought i would drop in an' say that they're comin' after yu to-night, shore. just heard of it from yore friend jimmy. yu bar – ✓ can count on us when th' rush comes. but why didn't yu say yu was a pard of buck peters'? me an' him used to shoot up laramie together. from what yore friend james says, yu can handle this gang by yore lonesome, but if yu needs any encouragement yu make some sign an' we'll help th' event along some. they's eight of us that'll be waitin' up to get th' returns an' we're shore goin' to be in range. “gee, it's nice to run across a friend of buck's! ain't he a son-of-a-gun?” asked hopalong, delighted at the news. then, without waiting for a reply, he went on: “ yore shore square, all right, an' i hates to refuse yore offer, but i got eighteen friends comin' up an' they ought to get here by to- yu tell jimmy to head them this way when they shows up an' i'll have th' claim for them. there ain't no use of yu fellers gettin' mixed up in this. th' bunch, that's comin' can clean out any gang this side of sunup, an' i expects they'll shore be anxious to begin when they finds me eatin' peaches an' wastin' my time shootin' bums. yu yu pass th' morrow. holding the claim word along to yore friends, an' tell them to lay low an' see th' arory boerallis hit this town with its tail up. tell jimmy to do it up good when he speaks about me holdin' th' claim-i likes to see buck an' red fight when they're good an' mad.” the miner laughed and slapped hopalong on the shoulder. “yore all right, youngster! yore just like buck was at yore age. say now, i reckons he wasn't a reg'lar terror on wheels! why, i've seen him do more foolish things than any man i knows of, an' i calcu. late that if buck pals with yu there ain't no water in yore sand. my name's tom hallo- - way," he suggested. . 'an' mine's hopalong cassidy," was the reply. “ i've heard buck speak of yu.” “ has yu? well, don't it beat all how lit- tle this world is? somebody allus turnin' up that knows somebody yu knows. i'll just amble along, mr. cassidy, an' don't yu be none bashful about callin' if yu needs me. any pal of buck's is my friend. well, so long," said the visitor as he strode off. then he stopped and turned around. hey, mis- bar- ter!” he called. “they are goin' to roll a fire barrel down agin yu from behind,” indi. cating by an outstretched arm the point from where it would start. “ if it burns yu out i'm goin' to take a hand from up there,” pointing to a cluster of rocks well to the rear of where the crowd would work from, “an' i don't care whether yu likes it or not,” he added to himself. hopalong scratched his head and then laughed. taking up a pick and shovel, he went out behind the cabin and dug a trench parallel with and about twenty paces away from the rear wall. heaping the excavated dirt up on the near side of the cut, he stepped back and surveyed his labor with open satis- faction. "roll yore fire barrel an' be he muttered. mebby she won't make a bully light for pot shots, though,” he added, grinning at the execution he would do. taking up his tools, he went up to the place from where the gang would roll the barrel, and made half a dozen mounds of twigs, be- ing careful to make them very alimsy. then he covered them with earth and packed them holding the claim gently. the mounds looked very tempting from the view-point of a marksman in search of earthworks, and appeared capable of stop- ping any rifle ball that could be fired against them. hopalong looked them over critically and stepped back. “i'd like to see th' look on th' face of th' son-of-a-gun that uses them for cover--won't he be surprised?" and he grinned gleefully as he pictured his shots boring through them. then he placed in the center of each a chip or a pebble or something that he thought would show up well in the firelight. returning to the cabin, he banked it up well with dirt and gravel, and tossed a few shovelfuls up on the roof as a safety valve to his exuberance. when he entered the door he had another idea, and fell to work scoop- ing out a shallow cellar, deep enough to shel- ter him when lying at full length. then he stuck his head out of the window and grinned at the false covers with their prominent bull's- eyes. “when that prize-winnin' gang of ossified idiots runs up agin' these fortifications they bar - shore will be disgusted. i'll bet four dollars an' seven cents they'll think their medicine- man's no good. i hopes that puff-eyed mar- shal will pick out that hump with th' chip on it,” and he hugged himself in anticipation. he then cut down a sapling and fastened it to the roof and on it he tied his neckkerchief, which fluttered valiantly and with defiance in the light breeze. “ i shore hopes they appre- ciates that,” he remarked whimsically, as he went inside the hut and closed the door. the early part of the evening passed in peace, and hopalong, tired of watching in vain, wished for action. midnight came, and it was not until half an hour before dawn that he was attacked. then a noise sent him to a loophole, where he fired two shots at skulk- ing figures some distance off. a fusillade of bullets replied; one of them ripped through the door at a weak spot and drilled a hole in a can of the everlasting peaches. hopalong set the can in the frying pan and then fitted from loophole to loophole, shooting quick and straight. several curses told him that he had not missed, and he scooped up a finger of holding the claim peach juice. shots thudded into the walls of his fort in an unceasing stream, and, as it grew lighter, several whizzed through the loopholes. he kept close to the earth and waited for the rush, and when it came sent it back, minus two of its members. as he reloaded his colts a bullet passed through his shirt sleeve and he promptly nailed the marksman. he looked out of a «* crack in the rear wall and saw the top of an adjoining hill crowned with spectators, all of whom were armed. some time later he re- pulsed another attack and heard a faint cheer from his friends on the hill. then he saw a barrel, blazing from end to end, roll out from the place he had so carefully covered with mounds. it gathered speed and bounded over the rough ground, flashed between two rocks and leaped into the trench, where it crackled and roared in vain. “now," said hopalong, blazing at the mounds as fast as he could load and fire his sharp's, “we'll just see what yu thinks of yore nice little covers." yells of consternation and pain rang out in bar - a swelling chorus, and legs and arms jerked and hopped, one man, in his astonishment at the shot that tore open his cheek, sitting up in plain sight of the marksman. roars of rage floated up from the main body of the besiegers, and the discomfited remnant of barrel-rollers broke for real cover. then he stopped another rush from the front, made upon the supposition that he was thinking only of the second detachment. a hearty cheer arose from tom halloway and his friends, ensconced in their rocky position, and it was taken up by those on the hill, who danced and yelled their delight at the battle, to them more humorous than otherwise. this recognition of his prowess from men of the caliber of his audience made him feel good, and he grinned: “gee, i'll bet halloway van' his friends is shore itchin' to get in this,” he murmured, firing at a head that was shown for an instant. " wonder what red 'll say when jimmy tells him—bet he'll plow dust like a cyclone,” and hopalong laughed, pic- turing to himself the satiation of red's anger. old red-headed son-of-a-gun,” murmured holding the claim the cowboy affectionately," he shore can fight.” as he squinted over the sights of his rifle his eye caught sight of a moving body of men as they cantered over the flats about two miles away. in his eagerness he forgot to shoot and carefully counted them. 'nine," he grumbled. “wonder what's th' matter?" -fearing that they were not his friends. then a second body numbering eight cantered into sight and followed the first. “whoop! there's th' red-head!” he shouted, dancing in his joy. “now," he shouted at the peach can joyously, “yu wait about thirty minutes an' yu'll shore reckon hades has busted loose!' he grabbed up his colts, which he kept loaded for repelling rushes, and recklessly emptied them into the bushes and between the rocks and trees, searching every likely place for a human target. then he slipped his rifle in a loophole and waited for good shots, having worked off the dangerous pressure of his exuberance. soon he heard a yell from the direction of bar - the “miner's rest," and fell to jamming cartridges into his revolvers so that he could sally out and join in the fray by the side of red. the thunder of madly pounding hoofs rolled up the trail, and soon a horse and rider shot around the corner and headed for the copse. three more raced close behind and then a bunch of six, followed by the rest, spread out and searched for trouble. red, a colt in each hand and hatless, stood up in his stirrups and sent shot after shot into the fleeing mob, which he could not follow on account of the nature of the ground. buck wheeled and dashed down the trail again with red a close second, the others packed in a solid mass and after them. at the first level stretch the newcomers swept down and hit their enemies, going through them like a knife through cheese. hopalong danced up and down with rage when he could not find his horse, and had to stand and yell, a spectator. the fight drifted in among the buildings, where it became a series of isolated duels, and soon hopalong saw panic-stricken horses car- holding the claim rying their riders out of the other side of the town. then he went gunning for the man who had rustled his horse. he was unsuc- cessful and returned to his peaches. soon the riders came up, and when they saw hopalong shove a peach into his powder- grimed mouth they yelled their delight. “yu old maverick! eatin' peaches like yu was afraid we'd git some ! ” shouted red in- dignantly, leaping down and running up to his pal as though to thrash him. hopalong grinned pleasantly and fired a peach against red's eye. “i was savin' that one for yu, reddie," he remarked, as he avoided buck's playful kick. “ yu fellers git to work an' dig up some wealth–i'm hun- gry.” then he turned to buck: “ yore th' marshal of this town, an'any son-of-a-gun what don't like it had better write. oh, yes, here comes tom halloway—'member him?" buck turned and faced the miner and his hand went out with a jerk. well, i'll be locoed if i didn't punch with yu on th' tin-cup!” he said. “yu shore did an' yu was purty devilish, bar but that there cassidy of yourn beats any- thing i ever seen." “he's a good kid," replied buck, glancing to where red and hopalong were quarreling as to who had eaten the most pie in a contest held some years before. johnny, nosing around, came upon the per- forated and partially scattered piles of earth and twigs, and vented his disgust of them by kicking them to pieces. “hey! hoppy! oh, hoppy!” he called, “what are these things?" hopalong jammed red's hat over that person's eyes and replied: "oh, them's some loaded dice i fixed for them." “yu son-of-a-gun!" sputtered red, as he wrestled with his friend in the exuberance of his pride. "yu son-of-a-gun! yu shore ought to be ashamed to treat 'em that way!” shore," replied hopalong. “but i ain't!" chapter xii the hospitality of travennes mr. r. buck peters rode into alkaline one bright september morning and sought refreshment at the emporium. mr. peters had just finished some business for his employer and felt the satisfaction that comes with the knowledge of work well done. he expected to remain in alkaline for several days, where he was to be joined by two of his friends and punchers, mr. hopalong cas- sidy and mr. red connors, both of whom were at cactus springs, seventy miles to the mr. cassidy and his friend had just fin- ished a nocturnal tour of santa fé and felt somewhat peevish and dull in consequence, not to mention the sadness occasioned by the expenditure of the greater part of their com- bined capital on such foolishness as faro, roulette and wet-goods. east. bar - mr. peters and his friends had sought wealth in the black hills, where they had enthusiastically disfigured the earth in the fond expectation of uncovering vast stores of virgin gold. their hopes were of an opti- mistic brand and had existed until the last canister of cornmeal four had been emptied by mr. cassidy's burro, which waited not upon its master's pleasure nor upon the ethics of the case. when mr. cassidy had returned from exercising the animal and himself over two miles of rocky hillside in the vain en- deavor to give it his opinion of burros and sundry chastisements, he was requested, as owner of the beast, to give his counsel as to the best way of securing eighteen breakfasts. remembering that the animal was headed north when he last saw it and that it was too old to eat, anyway, he suggested a plan which had worked successfully at other times for other ends, namely, poker. mr. mcallister, an expert at the great american game, volun- teered his service in accordance with the spirit of the occasion and, half an hour later, he and mr. cassidy drifted into pell's poker parlors, hospitality of travennes which were located in the rear of a chinese laundry, where they gathered unto themselves the wherewithal for the required breakfasts. an hour spent in the card rooni of the “hur- rah” convinced its proprietor that they had wasted their talents for the past six weeks in digging for gold. the proof of this per- mitted the departure of the outfits with their customary éclat. at santa fé the various individuals had gone their respective ways, to reassemble at the ranch in the near future, and for several days they had been drifting south in groups of twos and threes and, like chaff upon a stream, had eddied into alkaline, where mr. peters had found them arduously engaged in post- poning the final journey. after he had glad- dened their hearts and soothed their throats by making several pithy remarks to the bar- tender, with whom he established their credit, he cautioned them against letting any one harm them and, smiling at the humor of his warning, left abruptly. cactus springs was burdened with a zealous and initiative organization known as vigi- i bar lantes, whose duty it was to extend the cour- tesies of the land to cattle thieves and the like. this organization boasted of the name of travennes' terrors and of a muster roll of twenty. there was also a boast that no one had ever escaped them which, if true, was in many cases unfortunate. mr. slim tra- vennes, with whom mr. cassidy had partici- pated in an extemporaneous exchange of colt's courtesies in santa fé the year before, was the head of the organization and was also chairman of the committee on arrivals, and the two gentlemen of the bar- had not been in town an hour before he knew of it. being anxious to show the strangers every attention and having a keen recollection of the brand of gun-play commanded by mr. cas- sidy, he planned a smoother method of pro- cedure and one calculated to permit him to enjoy the pleasures of a good old age. mr. travennes knew that horse thieves were re- garded as social enemies, that the necessary proof of their guilt was the finding of stolen animals in their possession, that death was the penalty and that every man, whether directly i hospitality of travennes concerned or not, regarded himself as judge, jury and executioner. he had several ac- quaintances who were bound to him by his knowledge of crimes they had committed and who could not refuse his slightest wish. even if they had been free agents they were not above causing the death of an innocent man. mr. travennes, feeling very self-satisfied at his cleverness, arranged to have the proof placed where it would do the most harm and intended to take care of the rest by himself. mr. connors, feeling much refreshed and very hungry, arose at daylight the next morning, and dressing quickly, started off to feed and water the horses. after having sev- eral tilts with the landlord about the bucket he took his departure toward the corral at the rear. peering through the gate, he could hardly believe his eyes. he climbed over it and inspected the animals at close range, and found that those which he and his friend had ridden for the last two months were not to be seen, but in their places were two better animals, which concerned him greatly. being fair and square himself, he could not under- bar - come out stand the change and sought enlightenment of his more imaginative and suspicious friend. hey, hopalong!” he called, here an' see what th' devil has happened!' mr. cassidy stuck his auburn head out of the wounded shutter and complacently sur- veyed his companion. then he saw the horses and looked hard. “quit yore foolin', yu old cuss," he re- marked pleasantly, as he groped around be- hind him with his feet, searching for his boots. anybody would think yu was a little boy with yore fool jokes. ain't yu ever goin' to grow up?" they've got our bronchs," replied mr. connors in an injured tone. “honest, i ain't kiddin' yu," he added for the sake of peace. “who has ?" came from the window, followed immediately by, “yu've got my boots !! “i ain't—they're under th' bunk," contra- dicted and explained mr. connors. then, turning to the matter in his mind he replied, “i don't know who's got them. if i did do yu think i'd be holdin' hands with myself?” hospitality of travennes “nobody'd accuse yu of anything like that,” came from the window, accompanied by an overdone snicker. mr. connors flushed under his accumulated tan as he remembered the varied pleasures of santa fé, and he regarded the bronchos in anything but a pleasant state of mind. mr. cassidy slid through the window and approached his friend, looking as serious as he could. any tracks?” he inquired, as he glanced quickly over the ground to see for himself. “not after that wind we had last night. they might have growed there for all i can see,” growled mr. connors. “i reckon we better hold a pow-wow with th' foreman of this shack an' find out what he knows,” suggested mr. cassidy. “this looks too good to be a swap." mr. connors looked his disgust at the idea and then a light broke in upon him. “mebby they was hard pushed an' wanted fresh cay- uses,” he said. “a whole lot of people get hard pushed in this country. anyhow, we'll prospect th' boss." bar - they found the proprietor in his stocking feet, getting the breakfast, and mr. cassidy regarded the preparations with open ap- proval. he counted the tin plates and found only three, and, thinking that there would be more plates if there were others to feed, glanced into the landlord's room. not find ing signs of other guests, on whom to lay the blame for the loss of his horse, he began to ask questions. “much trade?" he inquired solicitously. . yep,” replied the landlord. mr. cassidy looked at the three tins and wondered if there had ever been any more with which to supply his trade. been out this morning ?” he pursued. nope." "talks purty nigh as much as buck," thought mr. cassidy, and then said aloud, anybody else here?” “nope." mr. cassidy lapsed into a painful and dis- gusted silence and his friend tried his hand. “who owns a mosaic bronch, chinee flag hospitality of travennes on th' near side, skillet brand ? " asked mr. connors. quien sabe?” gosh, he can nearly keep still in two lingoes," thought mr. cassidy. “who owns a bob-tailed pinto, saddle- galled, cast in th' near eye, star diamond brand, white stockin' on th' off front prop, with a habit of scratchin' itself every other minute?" went on mr. connors. “slim travennes," replied the proprietor, flopping a flapjack. mr. cassidy reflectively scratched the back of his hand and looked innocent, but his mind was working overtime. who's slim travennes?" asked mr. connors, never having heard of that person, owing to the reticence of his friend. “captain of th' vigilantes.” what does he look like on th' general run?” blandly inquired mr. cassidy, wishing to verify his suspicions. he thought of the trouble he had with mr. travennes up in santa fé and of the reputation that gentleman bar- possessed. then the fact that mr. travennes was the leader of the local vigilantes came to his assistance and he was sure that the captain had a hand in the change. all these points existed in misty groups in his mind, but the next remark of the landlord caused them to rush together and reveal the plot. good," said the landlord, flopping an- other aapjack, “and a warnin' to hoss thieves." “ahem,” coughed mr. cassidy and then continued, “is he a tall, lanky, yaller-headed son-of-a-gun, with a big nose an' lots of ears?" mebby so," answered the host. "um, slopping over into bad sioux," thought mr. cassidy, and then said aloud, “how long has he hung around this here layout?” at the same time passing a warning glance at his companion. the landlord straightened up. “look here, stranger, if yu hankers after his pedigree v so all-fired hard yu had best pump him.” “i told yu this here feller wasn't a man what would give away all he knowed,” lied hospitality of travennes mr. connors, turning to his friend and indi- cating the host. “he ain't got time for that. anybody can see that he is a powerful busy man. an' then he ain't no child." mr. cassidy thought that the landlord could tell all he knew in about five minutes and then not break any speed records for con- versation, but he looked properly awed and impressed. “well, yu needn't go an' get mad about it! i didn't know, did i?" “who's gettin' mad? ”pugnaciously asked mr. connors. after his injured feelings had been soothed by mr. cassidy's sullen silence he again turned to the landlord. what did this travennes look like when yu saw him last?" coaxed mr. connors. “th' same as he does now, as yu can see by lookin' out of th' window. that's him down th' street," enlightened the host, thaw- ing to the pleasant mr. connors. mr. cassidy adopted the suggestion and frowned. mr. travennes and two compan- ions were walking toward the corral and mr. cassidy once again slid out of the window, his friend going by the door. chapter xiii travennes' discomfiture wh hen mr. travennes looked over the corral fence he was much chagrined to see a man and a colt's . , both paying strict attention to his nose. mornin', duke," said the man with the gun. “lose anything?” mr. travennes looked back at his friends and saw mr. connors sitting on a rock hold- ing two guns. mr. travennes' right and left wings were the targets and they pitted their frowns against mr. connors' smile. not that i knows of,” replied mr. tra- vennes, shifting his feet uneasily. " find anything? " came from mr. cassidy as he sidled out of the gate. nope,” replied the captain of the ter- rors, eying the colt. “are yu in th' habit of payin' early morn- travennes' discomfiture in' calls to this here corral? " persisted mr. cassidy, playing with the gun. “ya-as. that's my business—i'm th' cap- tain of th' vigilantes." that's too bad," sympathized mr. cas- sidy, moving forward a step. mr. travennes looked put out and backed off. “what yu mean, stickin' me up this- away?” he asked indignantly. “ yu needn't go an' get mad,” responded mr. cassidy. “just business. yore cayuse an'another shore climbed this corral fence last night an' ate up our bronchs, an' i just nachurlly want to know about it." mr. travennes looked his surprise and in- credulity and craned his neck to see for him- self. when he saw his horse peacefully scratching itself he swore and looked angrily up the street. mr. connors, behind the shack, was hidden to the view of those on the street, and when two men ran up at a signal from mr. travennes, intending to in- sert themselves in the misunderstanding, they were promptly lined up with the first two by the man on the rock. i bar “sit down," invited mr. connors, push- ing a chunk of air out of the way with his guns. the last two felt a desire to talk and to argue the case on its merits, but refrained as the black holes in mr. connors' guns hinted at eruption. “every time yu opens yore mouths yu gets closer to th' great divide,” enlightened that person, and they were childlike in their belief. mr. travennes acted as though he would like to scratch his thigh where his colt's chafed him, but postponed the event and lis- tened to mr. cassidy, who was asking questions. “where's our cayuses, general ? " mr. travennes replied that he didn't know. he was worried, for he feared that his captor didn't have a secure hold on the hammer of the ubiquitous colt's. where's my cayuse ? " persisted mr. cas- sidy. “i don't know, but i wants to ask yu how yu got mine," replied mr. travennes. “ yu tell me how mine got out an' i'll tell yu how yourn got in,” countered mr. cassidy. travennes' discomfiture mr. connors added another to his collec- tion before the captain replied. “out in this country people get in trouble when they're found with other folks' cayuses,' mr. travennes suggested. mr. cassidy looked interested and replied: “yu shore ought to borrow some experience, an' there's lots floating around. more than one man has smoked in a powder mill, an' th' number of them planted who looked in th's muzzle of a empty gun is scandalous. if my remarks don't perculate right smart i'll ex- plain." mr. travennes looked down the street again, saw number five added to the line-up, and coughed up chunks of broken profanity, grieving his host by his lack of courtesy. “time," announced mr. cassidy, inter- rupting the round. “i wants them cayuses an' i wants 'em right now. yu an' me will amble off an' get 'em. i won't bore yu with tellin' yu what'll happen if yu gets skittish. slope along an' don't be scared; i'm with yu," » assured mr. cassidy as he looked over at mr. connors, whose ascetic soul pined for the fiap- bar - jacks of which his olfactories caught inter- mittent whiffs. well, red, i reckons yu has got plenty of room out here for all yu may corral; anyhow there ain't a whole lot more. my friend slim an' i are shore going to have a devil of a time if we can't find them cussed bronchs. whew, them flapjacks smell like a plain trail to payday. just think of th' nice maple juice we used to get up to cheyenne on them frosty mornings." “get out of here an' lemme alone! what do yu allus want to go an' make a feller un- happy for? can't yu keep still about grub when yu knows i ain't had my morning's feed yet?" asked mr. connors, much aggrieved. “well, i'll be back directly an' i'll have them cayuses or a scalp. yu tend to business an’ watch th' herd. that shorthorn yearling at th' end of th' line”-pointing to a young man who looked capable of taking risks— ' he looks like he might take a chance an' gamble with yu,” remarked mr. cassidy, placing mr. travennes in front of him and pushing back his own sombrero. “ don't put travennes' discomfiture too much maple juice on them flapjacks, red,” he warned as he poked his captive in the back of the neck as a hint to get along. fortu- nately mr. connors' closing remarks are lost to history observing that mr. travennes headed south on the quest, mr. cassidy reasoned that the missing bronchos ought to be somewhere in the north, and he postponed the southern trip until such time when they would have more leisure at their disposal. mr. tra- vennes showed a strong inclination to shy at this arrangement, but quieted down under persuasion, and they started off toward where mr. cassidy firmly believed the north pole and the cayuses to be. "yu has got quite a metropolis here,” pleasantly remarked mr. cassidy as under his direction they made for a distant corral. “i can see four different types of architecture, two of 'em on one residence," he continued as they passed a wood and adobe hut. doubt the railroad will put a branch down here some day an' then yu can hire their old cars for yore public buildings. then when “no bar yu gets a postoffice yu will shore make chi- cago hustle some to keep her end up. let's assay that hollow for horsehide; it looks promisin'." the hollow was investigated but showed nothing other than cactus and baked alkali. the corral came next, and there too was emp- tiness. for an hour the search was unavail- ing, but at the end of that time mr. cassidy began to notice signs of nervousness on the part of his guest, which grew less as they proceeded. then mr. cassidy retraced their steps to the place where the nervousness first developed and tried another way and once more returned to the starting point. “yu seems to hanker for this fool exer- cise," quoth mr. travennes with much sar- if yu reckons i'm fond of this locoed ramblin' yu shore needs enlightenment." “sometimes i do get these fits," confessed mr. cassidy, “an' when i do i'm dead sore on objections. let's peek in that there hut," he suggested. “huh; yore ideas of cayuses are mighty peculiar. why don't you look for 'em up on casm. travennes' discomfiture i those cactuses or behind that mesquite ? wouldn't be a heap surprised if they was roostin' on th' roof. they are mighty knowing animals, cayuses. i once saw one that could figger like a schoolmarm," re- marked mr. travennes, beginning sarcastic- ally and toning it down as he proceeded, out of respect for his companion's gun. “well, they might be in th' shack,” re- plied mr. cassidy cayuses know so much that it takes a month to unlearn them. i wouldn't like to bet they ain't in that hut, though." mr. travennes snickered in a manner de- cidedly uncomplimentary and began to whis- tle, softly at first. the gentleman from the bar- noticed that his companion was a musician; that when he came to a strong part he increased the tones until they bid to be heard at several hundred yards. when mr. travennes had reached a most passionate part in “juanita ” and was expanding his lungs to do it justice he was rudely stopped by the insistent pressure of his guard's colt's on the most ticklish part of his ear. bar- “i shore wish yu wouldn't strain yoreself thataway,” said mr. cassidy, thinking that mr. travennes might be endeavoring to call assistance. “i went an' promised my mother on her deathbed that i wouldn't let nobody whistle out loud like that, an' th' opery is hereby stopped. besides, somebody might hear them mournful tones an' think that some- thing is th' matter, which it ain't." mr. travennes substituted heartfelt curs- ing, all of which was heavily accented. as they approached the hut mr. cassidy again tickled his prisoner and insisted that he be very quiet, as his cayuse was very sensitive to noise and it might be there. mr. cassidy still thought mr. travennes might have friends in the hut and wouldn't for the world disturb them, as he would present a splendid target as he approached the building. chapter xiv the tale of a cigarette to he open door revealed three men asleep on the earthen floor, two of whom were mexicans. mr. cassidy then for the first time felt called upon to relieve his companion of the colt's which so sorely itched that gen- tleman's thigh and then disarmed the sleeping guards. “one man an' a half,” murmured mr. cassidy, it being in his creed that it took four “greasers" to make one texan. in the far corner of the room were two bronchos, one of which tried in vain to kick mr. cassidy, not realizing that he was ten feet away. the noise awakened the sleepers, who sat up and then sprang to their feet, their hands instinctively streaking to their thighs for the weapons which peeked contentedly from the bosom of mr. cassidy's open shirt. one of the mexicans made a lightning-like the tale of a cigarette an' alkaline in five hours," he promised, as he made his way toward the animal. mr. travennes walked over to the opposite wall and took down a pouch of tobacco which hung from a peg. he did this in a manner suggesting ownership, and after he had deftly rolled a cigarette with one hand he put the pouch in his pocket and, lighting up, inhaled deeply and with much satisfaction. mr. cas- sidy turned around and glanced the group over, wondering if the tobacco had been left in the hut on a former call. “ did yu find yore makings?” he asked, with a note of congratulation in his voice. " yep. want one?” asked mr. trav- ennes. mr. cassidy ignored the offer and turned to the guard whom he had found asleep. “is that his tobacco ?” he asked, and the guard, anxious to make everything run smoothly, told the truth and answered: “shore. he left it here last night," where- upon mr. travennes swore and mr. cassidy smiled grimly. “then yu knows how yore cayuse got bar – in an' how mine got out,” said the latter. “i wish yu would explain," he added, fond- ling his colt's. mr. travennes frowned and remained silent. “i can tell yu, anyhow," continued mr. cassidy, still smiling, but his eyes and jaw belied the smile. " yu took them cayuses out because yu wanted yourn to be found in their places. yu remembered santa fé an' it rankled in yu. not being man enough to notify me that yu'd shoot on sight an' being afraid my friends would get yu if yu plugged me on th' sly, yu tried to make out v'that me an' red rustled yore cayuses. that meant a lynching with me an' red in th' places of honor. yu never saw red afore, but yu didn't care if he went with me. yu don't deserve fair play, but i'm going to give it to yu because i don't want anybody to say that any of th' bar- ever murdered a man, not even a skunk like yu. my friends have treated me too square for that. yu can take this gun an' yu can do one of three things with it, which are: walk out in th' the tale of a cigarette open a hundred paces an' then turn an' walk toward me--after you face me yu can set it a-going whenever yu want to; th' second is, put it under yore hat an' i'll put mine an th' others back by th' cayuses. then we'll toss up an' th' lucky man gets it to use as he wants. th' third is, shoot yourself.” mr. cassidy punctuated the close of his ultimatum by handing over the weapon, muz- zle first, and, because the other might be an adept at “twirling," he kept its recipient covered during the operation. then, placing his second colt's with the captured weapons, he threw them through the door, being very careful not to lose the drop on his now armed prisoner. mr. travennes looked around and wiped the sweat from his forehead, and being an observant gentleman, took the proffered weapon and walked to the east, directly to- ward the sun, which at this time was half- way to the meridian. the glare of its straight rays and those reflected from the shining sand would, in a measure, bother mr. cassidy and interfere with the accuracy of bar his aim, and he was always thankful for small favors. mr. travennes was the possessor of accu- rate knowledge regarding the lay of the land, and the thought came to him that there was a small but deep hole out toward the east and that it was about the required distance away. this had been dug by a man who had labored all day in the burning sun to make an oven so that he could cook mesquite root in the manner he had seen the apaches cook it. mr. travennes blessed hobbies, specific and general, stumbled thoughtlessly and dis. appeared from sight as the surprised mr. cassidy started forward to offer his assist- ance. upon emphatic notification from the man in the hole that his help was not needed, mr. cassidy wheeled around and in great haste covered the distance separating him from the hut, whereupon mr. travennes swore in self-congratulation and regret. mr. cassidy's shots barked a cactus which leaned near mr. travennes' head and flecked several clouds of alkali near that person's nose, caus- ing him to sneeze, duck, and grin. the tale of a cigarette “it's his own gun,” grumbled mr. cas- sidy as a bullet passed through his sombrero, having in mind the fact that his opponent had a whole belt full of . 's. if it had been mr. cassidy's gun that had been handed over he would have enjoyed the joke on mr. trav- ennes, who would have had five cartridges between himself and the promised eternity, as he would have been unable to use the . 's in mr. cassidy's . , while the latter would have gladly consented to the change, having as he did an extra . . never before had mr. cassidy looked with reproach upon his . caliber colt's, and he sighed as he used it to notify mr. travennes that arbitration was not to be considered, which that person indorsed, said indorsement passing so close to mr. cassidy's ear that he felt the breeze made by it. “he's been practicin' since i plugged him up in santa fé," thought mr. cassidy, as he retired around the hut to formulate a plan of campaign. mr. travennes sang “hi-le, hi-lo," and other selections, principally others, and won- bar dered how mr. cassidy could hoist him out. the slack of his belt informed him that he was in the middle of a fast, and suggested starvation as the derrick that his honorable and disgusted adversary might employ. mr. cassidy, while figuring out his method of procedure, absent-mindedly jabbed a fin- ger in his eye, and the ensuing tears floated an idea to him. he had always had great respect for ricochet shots since his friend skinny thompson had proved their worth on the hides of sioux. if he could disturb the sand and convey several grains of it to mr. travennes' eyes the game would be much simplified. while planning for the proposed excavation, à la colt's, he noticed several stones lying near at hand, and a new and bet- ter scheme presented itself for his considera- tion. if mr. travennes could be persuaded to get out of-well, it was worth trying. mr. cassidy lined up his gloomy collec- tion and tersely ordered them to turn their backs to him and to stay in that position, the suggestion being that if they looked around they wouldn't be able to dodge quickly the tale of a cigarette enough. he then slipped bits of his lariat over their wrists and ankles, tying wrists to ankles and each man to his neighbor. that finished to his satisfaction, he dragged them in the hut to save them from the burning rays of the sun. having performed this act of kindness, he crept along the hot sand, tak- ing advantage of every bit of cover afforded, and at last he reached a point within a hun- dred feet of the besieged. during the trip mr. travennes sang to his heart's content, some of the words being improvised for the occasion and were not calculated to increase mr. cassidy's respect for his own wisdom if he should hear them. mr. cassidy heard, however, and several fragments so forcibly intruded on his peace of mind that he deter- mined to put on the last verse himself and to suit himself. suddenly mr. travennes poked his head up and glanced at the hut. he was down again so quickly that there was no chance for a shot at him and he believed that his enemy was still sojourning in the rear of the building, which caused him to fear that he bar was expected to live on nothing as long as he could and then give himself up. just to show his defiance he stretched himself out on his back and sang with all his might, his sombrero over his face to keep the glare of the sun out of his eyes. he was interrupted, however, forgot to finish a verse as he had intended, and jumped to one side as a stone bounced off his leg. looking up, he saw another missile curve into his patch of sky and swiftly bear down on him. he avoided it by a hair's breadth and wondered what had happened. then what mr. travennes thought was a balloon, being unsophisticated in matters pertaining to aerial navigation, swooped down upon him and smote him on the shoulder and also bounced off. mr. travennes hastily laid music aside and took up elocution as he dodged another stone and wished that the mesquite-loving crank had put on a roof. in evading the projectile he let his sombrero appear on a level with the desert, and the hum of a bullet as it passed through his head-gear and into the opposite the tale of a cigarette wall made him wish that there had been constructed a cellar, also. “hi-le, hi-lo" intruded upon his ear, as mr. cassidy got rid of the surplus of his heart's joy. another stone the size of a man's foot shaved mr. travennes' ear and he hugged the side of the hole nearest his enemy. “hibernate, blank yu!” derisively shouted the human catapult as he released a chunk of sandstone the size of a quail. “draw in yore laigs an' buck," was his god-speed to the missile. "hey, yu!” indignantly yowled mr. travennes from his defective storm cellar. yu know any better'n to heave things thataway? “ hi-le, hi-lo," sang mr. cassidy, as an- other stone soared aloft in the direction of the complainant. then he stood erect and awaited results with a colt's in his hand leveled at the rim of the hole. a hat waved and an excited voice bit off chunks of expostu- lation and asked for an armistice. then two “ don't bar " in a hands shot up and mr. travennes, sore and disgusted and desperate, popped his head up and blinked at mr. cassidy's gun. “yu was fillin' th' hole up,” remarked mr. travennes in an accusing tone, hiding the real reason for his evacuation. little while i'd a been th' top of a pile in- stead of th' bottom of a hole," he announced, crawling out and rubbing his head. mr. cassidy grinned and ordered his pris- oner to one side while he secured the weapon which lay in the hole. having obtained it as quickly as possible he slid it in his open shirt and clambered out again. “yu remind me of a feller i used to know," remarked mr. travennes, as he led the way to the hut, trying not to limp. “only he throwed dynamite. that was th' way he cleared off chaparral—blowed it off. he got so used to heaving away everything he lit that he spoiled three pipes in two days.” mr. cassidy laughed at the fiction and then became grave as he pictured mr. con- nors sitting on the rock and facing down a the tale of a cigarette line of men, any one of whom was capable of his destruction if given the interval of a second. when they arrived at the hut mr. cas- sidy observed that the prisoners had moved considerably. there was a cleanly swept trail four yards long where they had dragged themselves, and they sat in the end nearer the guns. mr. cassidy smiled and fired close to the mexican's ear, who lost in one fright- ened jump a little of what he had so labori- ously gained. “yu'll wear out yore pants," said mr. cassidy, and then added grimly, “an' my patience." mr. travennes smiled and thought of the man who had so ably seconded mr. cassidy's efforts and who was probably shot by this time. the outfit of the bar- was so well known throughout the land that he was aware the name of the other was red con- nors. an unreasoning streak of sarcasm swept over him and he could not resist the opportunity to get in a stab at his captor. bar – mebby yore pard has wore out some- body's patience, too,” said mr. travennes, suggestively and with venom. his captor wheeled toward him, his face white with passion, and mr. travennes shrank back and regretted the words. “i ain't shootin' dogs this here trip,” said mr. cassidy, trembling with scorn and anger, so yu can pull yourself together. i'll give yu another chance, but yu wants to hope almighty hard that red is o. k. if he ain't, i'll blow yu so many ways at once that if yu sprouts yu'll make a good acre of wieds. if he is all right yu'd better vamoose this range, for there won't be no hole for yu to crawl into next time. what friends yu have left i will have to tote yu off an' plant yu," he fin- ished with emphasis. he drove the horses outside, and, after severing the bonds on his prisoners, lined them up. “yu,” he began, indicating all but mr. travennes," yu amble right smart toward canada," pointing to the north. “ keep a-going till yu gets far enough away so a colt's won't find yu.” here he grinned with the tale of a cigarette delight as he saw his sharp's rifle in its sheath on his saddle and, drawing it forth, he put away his colt's and glanced at the trio, who were already industriously plodding north- ward. “ hey!” he shouted, and when they sullenly turned to see what new idea he had found he gleefully waved his rifle at them and warned them farther: “this is a sharp's an' it's good for half a mile, so don't stop none too soon." having sent them directly away from their friends so they could not have him “potted on the way back, he mounted his broncho and indicated to mr. travennes that he, too, was to ride, watching that that person did not make use of the winchester which mr. con- nors was foolish enough to carry around on his saddle. winchesters were mr. cassidy's pet aversion and mr. connors' most prized possession, this difference of opinion having upon many occasions caused hasty words be- tween them. mr. connors, being better with his winchester than mr. cassidy was with his sharp's, had frequently proved that his choice was the wiser, but mr. cassidy was loyal to bar the sharp's and refused to be convinced. now, however, the winchester became preg- nant with possibilities and, therefore, mr. travennes rode a few yards to the left and in advance, where the rifle was in plain sight, hanging as it did on the right of mr. con- nors' saddle, which mr. travennes graced so well. the journey back to town was made in good time and when they came to the build- ings mr. cassidy dismounted and bade his companion do likewise, there being too many corners that a fleeing rider could take advan- tage of. mr. travennes felt of his bumps and did so, wishing hard things ahout mr. cassidy. chapter xv the penalty white iile mr. travennes had been enter- tained in the manner narrated, mr. connors had passed the time by relating stale jokes to the uproarious laughter of his ex- tremely bored audience, who had heard the aged efforts many times since they had first seen the light of day, and most of whom earnestly longed for a drink. the landlord, hearing the hilarity, had taken advantage of the opportunity offered to see a free show. not being able to see what the occasion was for the mirth, he had pulled on his boots and made his way to the show with a flapjack in the skillet, which, in his haste, he had for- gotten to put down. he felt sure that he would be entertained, and he was not disap- pointed. he rounded the corner and was enthusiastically welcomed by the hungry mr. connors, whose ubiquitous guns coaxed from the skillet its dyspeptic wad. bar - “th' saints be praised !” ejaculated mr. connors as a matter of form, not having a very clear idea of just what saints were, but he knew what aapjacks were and greedily overcame the heroic resistance of the one pro- vided by chance and his own guns. as he rolled his eyes in ecstatic content the very man mr. cassidy had warned him against sud- denly arose and in great haste disappeared around the corner of the corral, from which point of vantage he vented his displeasure at the treatment he had received by wasting six shots at the mortified mr. connors. “steady!” sang out that gentleman as the line-up wavered. “he's a precedent to hell for yu fellers! don't yu get ambitious, none whatever." then he wondered how long it would take the fugitive to secure a rifle and return to release the others by drilling him at long range. his thoughts were interrupted by the vision of a red head that climbed into view over a rise a short distance off and he grinned his delight as mr. cassidy loomed up, jaunty and triumphant. mr. cassidy was executing the penalty calisthenics with a colt's in the rear of mr. travennes' neck and was leading the horses. mr. connors waved the skillet and his friend grinned his congratulations at what the token signified. “i see yu got some more," said mr. cas- sidy, as he went down the line-up from the rear and collected nineteen revolvers of vari- ous makes and conditions, this number being explained by the fact that all but one of the prisoners wore two. then he added the five that had kicked against his ribs ever since he had left the hut, and carefully threaded the end of his lariat through the trigger guards. “looks like we stuck up a government sup- ply mule, red," he remarked, as he fastened the whole collection to his saddle. “ four- teen colt's, six steven's, three remington's an' one puzzle," he added, examining the “puzzle." «« « made in germany,' it says, an' it shore looks like it. it's got little pins stickin' out of th' cylinder, like yu had to swat it with a hammer or a rock, or some- thing. it's real dangerous—warranted to go bar off, but mostly by itself, i reckon. it looks more like a cactus than a six-shooter-gosh, it's a eight-shooter! i allus said them dutch- men were bloody-minded cusses—think of be- ing able to shoot yoreself eight times before th' blamed thing stops!" then, looking at the line-up for the owner of the weapon, he laughed at the woeful countenances displayed. did they sidle in by companies or squads? he asked. by twos, mostly. then they parade- rested an' got discharged from duty. i had eleven, but one got homesick, or disgusted, or something, an' deserted. it was that cussed flapjack," confessed and explained mr. connors. what!” said mr. cassidy in a loud voice. got away! well, we'll have to make our get-away plumb sudden or we'll never go." at this instant the escaped man again be- gan his bombardment from the corner of the corral and mr. cassidy paused, indignant at the fusillade which tore up the dust at his feet. he looked reproachfully at mr. con- the penalty “has hopalong an' red showed up yet? asked mr. peters, frowning at the delay al- ready caused. 'nope," replied johnny nelson, as he paused from tormenting billy williams. at that minute the doorway was darkened and mr. cassidy and mr. connors entered and called for refreshments. mr. cassidy dropped a huge bundle of six-shooters on the floor, making caustic remarks regarding their utility. “what's th' matter?" inquired mr. peters of mr. cassidy. “yu looks mad an' anxious. an' where in h- did yu corral them guns?" mr. cassidy drank deep and then reported with much heat what had occurred at cactus springs and added that he wanted to go back and wipe out the town, said desire being luridly endorsed by mr. connors. why, shore,” said mr. peters, "we'll all go. such doings must be stopped instanter." then he turned to the assembled outfits and asked for a vote, which was unanimous for war. bar shortly afterward eighteen angry cow- punchers rode to the east, two red-haired gentlemen well in front and urging speed. it was p.m. when they left alkaline, and the cool of the night was so delightful that the feeling of ease which came upon them made them lax and they lost three hours in straying from the dim trail. at eight o'clock the next morning they came in sight of their destina- tion and separated into two squads, mr. cas- sidy leading the northern division and mr. connors the one which circled to the south. the intention was to attack from two direc- tions, thus taking the town from front and rear. cactus springs lay gasping in the excessive heat and the vigilantes who had toed mr. connors' line the day before were lounging in the shade of the “ palace" saloon, telling what they would do if they ever faced the same man again. half a dozen sympathizers offered gratuitous condolence and advice and all were positive that they knew where mr. cassidy and mr. connors would go when they died. the penalty the rolling thunder of madly pounding hoofs disturbed their post-mortem and they arose in a body to flee from half their num- ber, who, guns in hands, charged down upon them through clouds of sickly white smoke. travennes' terrors were minus many weap- ons and they could not be expected to give a glorious account of themselves. windows rattled and fell in and doors and walls gave off peculiar sounds as they grew full of holes. above the riot rattled the incessant crack of colt's and winchester, emphasized at close intervals by the assertive roar of . caliber buffalo guns. off to the south came another rumble of hoofs and mr. connors, leading the second squad, arrived to participate in the payment of the debt. smoke spurted from windows and other points of vantage and hung wavering in the heated air. the shattering of woodwork told of . calibers finding their rest, and the whines that grew and diminished in the air sang the course of . 's. while the fight raged hottest mr. nelson sprang from his horse and ran to the “ pal. bar - ace," where he collected and piled a heap of tinderlike wood, and soon the building burst out in aames, which, spreading, swept the town from end to end. mr. cassidy fired slowly and seemed to be waiting for something. mr. connors laid aside his hot winchester and devoted his at- tention to his colt's. a spurt of flame and smoke leaped from the window of a 'dobe hut and mr. connors sat down, firing as he went. a howl from the window informed him that he had made a hit, and mr. cassidy ran out and dragged him to the shelter of a near-by bowlder and asked how much he was hurt. “not much—in th' calf," grunted mr. connors. “he was a bad shot-must have been the cuss that got away yesterday," specu- lated the injured man as he slowly arose to his feet. mr. cassidy dissented from force of habit and returned to his station. mr. travennes, who was sleeping late that morning, coughed and fought for air in his sleep, awakened in smoke, rubbed his eyes to make sure and, scorning trousers and shirt, the penalty ran clad in his red woolen undergarments to the corral, where he mounted his scared horse and rode for the desert and safety. mr. cassidy, swearing at the marksman- ship of a man who fired at his head and per- forated his sombrero, saw a crimson rider sweep down upon him, said rider being her. alded by a blazing . . “gosh!” ejaculated mr. cassidy, scarcely believing his eyes. “oh, it's my friend slim going to h--)," he remarked to himself in audible and relieved explanation. mr. cas- sidy's colt's cracked a protest and then he joined mr. peters and the others and with them fought his way out of the flame-swept town of cactus springs. an hour later mr. connors glanced behind him at the smoke silhouetted on the horizon and pushed his way to where mr. cassidy rode in silence. mr. connors grinned at his friend of the red hair, who responded in the same manner. “did yu see slim ? " casually inquired mr. connors, looking off to the south. bar mr. cassidy sat upright in his saddle and felt of his colt's. “yes," he replied, " i saw him." mr. connors thereupon galloped on in silence. chapter xvi rustlers on the range tafecta air ete care este peringa had more he affair at cactus springs had more effect on the life at the bar- than was realized by the foreman. news travels rapidly, and certain men, whose attributes were not of the sweetest, heard of it and swore vengeance, for slim travennes had many friends, and the result of his passing began to show itself. outlaws have as their strongest defense the fear which they inspire, and little time was lost in making reprisals, and these caused buck peters to ride into buckskin one bright october morning and then out the other side of the town. coming to himself with a start he looked around shamefacedly and retraced his course. he was very much troubled, for, as foreman of the bar- , he had many responsibilities, and when things ceased to go aright he was ex- pected not only to find the cause of the evil, bar- but also the remedy. that was what he was paid seventy dollars a month for and that was what he had been endeavoring to do. as yet, however, he had only accomplished what the meanest cook's assistant had done. he knew the cause of his present woes to be rustlers (cattle thieves), and that was all. riding down the wide, quiet street, he stopped and dismounted before the ever-open door of a ramshackle one-story frame build- ing. tossing the reins over the flattened ears of his vicious pinto he strode into the build- ing and leaned easily against the bar, where he drummed with his fingers and sank into a reverie. a shining bald pate, bowed over an open box, turned around and revealed a florid face, set with two small, twinkling blue eyes, as the proprietor, wiping his hands on his trousers, made his way to buck's end of the bar. mornin', buck. how's things ?” the foreman, lost in his reverie, continued to stare out the door. mornin'," repeated the man behind the bar. “how's things?" rustlers on the range “oh!" ejaculated the foreman, smiling, purty cussed." “anything new?" 'th' c- lost another herd last night.” his companion swore and placed a bottle at the foreman's elbow, but the latter shook his head. "not this mornin'-i'll try one of them vile cigars, however." them cigars are th' very best that-' began the proprietor, executing the order. "oh, hell!” exclaimed buck with weary disgust. “yu don't have to palaver none: i shore knows all that by heart." "them cigars" repeated the proprietor. “yas, yas; them cigars—i know all about them cigars. yu gets them for twenty dol- lars a thousand an' hypnotizes us into payin' yu a hundred," replied the foreman, biting off the end of his weed. then he stared moodily and frowned. “i wonder why it is?” he asked. “we punchers like good stuff an' we pays good prices with good money. what do we get ? why, cabbage leaves an' leather for our smokin' an' alco- hol an' extract for our drink. now, up in rustlers on the range “nary a boy. who do yu reckon's doin' all this rustlin'?" " i'm reckonin', not shoutin',” responded the foreman. the proprietor looked out the window and grinned: “here comes one of yourn now.” the newcomer stopped his horse in a cloud of dust, playfully kicked the animal in the ribs and entered, dusting the alkali from him with a huge sombrero. then he straightened up and sniffed: “what's burnin'?” he asked, simulating alarm. then he noticed the cigar between the teeth of his foreman and grinned: “gee, but yore a brave man, buck." “hullo, hopalong," said the foreman. “want a smoke?” waving his hand toward the box on the bar. mr. hopalong cassidy side-stepped and began to roll a cigarette: “shore, but i'll burn my own— i know what it is." “what was yu doin' to my cayuse afore yu come in ? ” asked buck. "nothin'," replied the newcomer. "that was mine what i kicked in th' corrugations." “how is it yore ridin' th' calico ? " asked rustlers on the range yu better send for some decent stuff afore he comes to town," he warned. buck swung away from the bar and looked at his dead cigar. then he turned to hopa- long “what did you find?” he asked. "same old story: nice wide trail up to th’ staked plain-then nothin'." “ it shore beats me," soliloquized the fore- man. " it shore beats me." think it was tamale josé's old gang?” asked hopalong “if it was they took th' wrong trail home —that ain't th' way to mexico." hopalong tossed aside his half-smoked cigarette. well, come on home; what's th' use stewin' over it? it'll come out all . k. in th' wash." then he laughed: “there won't be no piebald waitin' for it.” evading buck's playful blow he led the way to the door, and soon they were a cloud of dust on the plain. the proprietor, despair- ing of customers under the circumstances, absent-mindedly wiped off the bar, and sought his chair for a nap, grumbling about the way his trade had fallen off, for there were few bar customers, and those who did call were heavy with loss of sleep, and with anxiety, and only paused long enough to toss off their drink. on the ranges there were occurrences which tried men's souls. for several weeks cattle had been disap- pearing from the ranges and the losses had long since passed the magnitude of those suffered when tamale josé and his men had crossed the rio grande and repeatedly levied heavy toll on the sleek herds of the pecos valley. tamale josé had raided once too often, and prosperity and plenty had followed on the ranches and the losses had been for- gotten until the fall round-ups clearly showed that rustlers were again at work. despite the ingenuity of the ranch owners and the unceasing vigilance and night rides of the cow-punchers, the losses steadily in- creased until there was promised a shortage which would permit no drive to the western terminals of the railroad that year. for two weeks the banks of the rio grande had been patrolled and sharp-eyed men searched daily for trails leading southward, for it was not rustlers on the range strange to think that the old raiders were again at work, notwithstanding the fact that they had paid dearly for their former depre- dations. the patrols failed to discover any- thing out of the ordinary and the searchers found no trails. then it was that the owners and foremen of the four central ranches met in cowan's saloon and sat closeted together for all of one hot afternoon. the conference resulted in riders being dis- patched from all the ranches represented, and one of the couriers, mr. red connors, rode north, his destination being far-away mon- tana. all the ranches within a radius of a hundred miles received letters and blanks and one week later the pecos valley cattle-thief elimination association was organized and working, with buck as chief ranger. one of the outcomes of buck's appoint- ment was a sudden and marked immigration into the affected territory. mr. connors re- turned from montana with mr. frenchy mcallister, the foreman of the tin-cup, who was accompanied by six of his best and most trusted men. mr. mcallister and party were bar - followed by mr. you-bet somes, foreman of the two-x-two of arizona, and five of his punchers, and later on the same day mr. pie willis, accompanied by mr. billy jordan and his two brothers, arrived from the pan- handle. the o-bar-o, situated close to the town of muddy wells, increased its payroll by the addition of nine men, each of whom bore the written recommendation of the fore- man of the bar- . the c- , double arrow and the three triangle also received heavy reinforcements, and even carter, owner of the barred horseshoe, far removed from zone of the depredations, increased his outfits by half their regular strength. buck believed that if a thing was worth doing at all that it was worth doing very well, and his acquaintances were numerous and loyal. the collection of individuals that responded to the call were noteworthy examples of ✓ "gun-play” and their aggregate value was at par with twice their numbers in cavalry. each ranch had one large ranch-house and numerous line-houses scattered along the boundaries. these latter, while intended as the zone rustlers on the range ruined house with a hole in the back of his head, which proved that one man was in- capable of watching all the loopholes in four walls at once. there must have been some casualities on the other side, for johnny was reputed to be very painstaking in his " gun- play," and the empty shells which lay scat- tered on the floor did not stand for as many ciphers, of that his foreman was positive. he was buried the day he was found, and the news of his death ran quickly from ranch to ranch and made more than one careless puncher arise and pace the floor in anger. more men came to the double arrow and its sentries were doubled. the depredations continued, however, and one night a week later frank swift reeled into the ranch-house and fell exhausted across the supper table. rolling hoof-beats echoed flatly and died away on the plain, but the men who pursued them returned empty handed. the wounds of the unfortunate were roughly dressed and in his delirium he recounted the fight. his companion was found literally shot to pieces twenty paces from the door. one wall was chapter xvii mr. trendley assumes added importance a well organized system was evident. that they were directed by a master of the game was ceaselessly beaten into the con- sciousness of the association by the diversity, dash and success of their raids. no one, save the three men whom they had destroyed, had ever seen them. but, like tamale josé, they had raided once too often. mr. trendley, more familiarly known to slippery," was the possessor of a biased conscience, if any at all. tall, gaunt and weather-beaten and with coal-black eyes set deep beneath hairless eyebrows, he was sinister and forbidding. into his forty-five years of existence he had crowded a century of experience, and unsavory rumors about him existed in all parts of the great west. from men as bar - canada to mexico and from sacramento to westport his name stood for brigandage. his operations had been conducted with such consummate cleverness that in all the accusa- tions, there was lacking proof. only once had he erred, and then in the spirit of pure deviltry and in the days of youthful folly, and his mistake was a written note. he was even thought by some to have been concerned in the mountain meadow massacre; others thought him to have been the leader of the band of outlaws that had plundered along the santa fé trail in the late ' 's. in mon- tana and wyoming he was held responsible for the outrages of the band that had descended from the hole-in-the-wall terri- tory and for over a hundred miles carried murder and theft that shamed as being weak the most assiduous efforts of zealous chey- it was in this last raid that he had made the mistake and it was in this raid that frenchy mcallister had lost his wife. when frenchy had first been approached by buck as to his going in search of the rustlers he had asked to go alone. this had ennes. trendley’s importance been denied by the foreman of the bar- because the men whom he had selected to accompany the scout were of such caliber that their presence could not possibly form a hindrance. besides being his most trusted friends they were regarded by him as being the two best exponents of “gun-play” that the west afforded. each was a specialist : hopalong, expert beyond belief with his colt's six-shooters, was only approached by red, whose winchester was renowned for its accuracy. the three made the three made a perfect com- bination, as the rashness of the two younger men would be under the controlling influence of a man who could retain his coolness of mind under all circumstances. when buck and frenchy looked into each there sprang into the mind of each the same name-slippery trendley. both had spent the greater part of a year in fruitless search for that person, the fore- man of the tin-cup in vengeance for the murder of his wife, the blasting of his pros- pects and the loss of his herds; buck, out of sympathy for his friend and also because they other's eyes bar had been partners in the double y. now that the years had passed and the long-sought- for opportunity was believed to be at hand, there was promised either a cessation of the outrages or that buck would never again see his friends. when the three mounted and came to him for final instructions buck forced himself to be almost repellent in order to be capable of coherent speech. hopalong glanced sharply at him and then understood, red was all attention and eagerness and remarked noth- ing but the words. “have yu ever heard of slippery trend- ley?” harshly inquired the foreman. they nodded, and on the faces of the younger men a glint of hatred showed itself, but frenchy wore his poker countenance. buck continued: “th' reason i asked yu was because i don't want yu to think yore goin' on no picnic. i ain't shore it's him, but i've had some hopeful information. besides, he is th' only man i knows of who's capable v of th' plays that have been made. it's hardly necessary for me to tell yu to sleep with one trendley's importance eye open and never to get away from yore guns. now i'm goin' to tell yu th' hardest part: yu are goin' to search th' staked plain from one end to th' other, and that's what no white man's ever done to my knowledge. “now, listen to this an' don't forget it: twenty miles north from last stand rock is a spring; ten miles south of that bend in hell arroyo is another. if yu gets lost within two days from th' time yu enters th' plain, put yore left hand on a cactus some- time between sun-up an' noon, move around until yu are over its shadow an' then ride straight ahead—that's south. if you goes loco beyond last stand rock, follow th' shadows made before noon—that's th' quick- est way to th' pecos. yu all knows what to do in a sand-storm, so i won't bore yu with that. repeat all i've told yu," he ordered and they complied. * i'm tellin' yu this," continued the fore- man, indicating the two auxiliaries, “because yu might get separated from frenchy. now i suggests that yu look around near th’ devils rocks: i've heard that there are several water bar holes among them, an' besides, they might be turned into fair corrals. mind yu, i know what i've said sounds damned idiotic for any- body that has had as much experience with th' staked plain as i have, but i've had every other place searched for miles around. th' men of all th' ranches have been scoutin' an' th' plain is th' only place left. them rustlers has got to be found if we have to dig to hell for them. they've taken th' pot so many times that they reckons they owns it, an' we've got to at least make a bluff at drawin' cards. mebby they're at th' bottom of th' pecos," here he smiled faintly, “but wherever they are, we've got to find them. i want to holler • keno.' “if yu finds where they hangs out come away instanter," here his face hardened and his eyes narrowed, " for it'll take more than yu three to deal with them th' way i'm a-hankerin' for. come right back to th' dou- ble arrow, send me word by one of their punchers an' get all the rest yu can afore i gets there. it'll take me a day to get th' men together an' to reach yu. i'm goin' to trendley’s importance use smoke signals to call th' other ranches, so there won't be no time lost. carry all th' water yu can pack when yu leaves th' double arrow an' don't depend none on cactus juice. yu better take a pack horse to carry it, an' yore grub-yu can shoot it if yu have to hit th' trail real hard." the three riders felt of their accouter- ments, said “ so long," and cantered off for the pack horse and extra ammunition. then they rode toward the double arrow, stopping at cowan's long enough to spend some money, and reached the double arrow at nightfall. early the next morning they passed the last line-house and, with the pro- fane well-wishes of its occupants ringing in their ears, passed onto one of nature's worst blunders the staked plain. the search begins were water holes on this skillet, but nine out of ten were death traps, reeking with mineral poisons, colored and alkaline. the two men- tioned by buck could not be depended on, for they came and went, and more than one luckless wanderer had depended on them to allay his thirst, and had died for his trust. so the scouts rode on in silence, noting the half-buried skeletons of cattle which were strewn plentifully on all sides. nearly three per cent. of the cattle belonging to the double arrow yearly found death on this table-land, and the herds of that ranch numbered many thousand heads. it was this which made the double arrow the poorest of the ranches, and it was this which allowed insufficient sentries in its line-houses. the skeletons were not all of cattle, for at rare intervals lay the sand-worn frames of men. on the morning of the second day the op- pression increased with the wind and red heaved a sigh of restlessness. the sand began to skip across the plain, in grains at first and hardly noticeable. hopalong turned bar- in his saddle and regarded the desert with apprehension. as he looked he saw that where grains had shifted handfuls were now moving. his mount evinced signs of uneasi- ness and was hard to control. a gust of wind, stronger than the others, pricked his face and grains of sand rolled down his neck. the leather of his saddle emitted strange noises as if a fairy tattoo was being beaten upon it and he raised his hand and pointed off toward the east. the others looked and saw what appeared to be a fog rise out of the desert and intervene between them and as far as eye could reach small whirlwinds formed and broke and one swept down and covered them with stinging sand. the day became darkened and their horses whinnied in terror and the clumps of mesquite twisted and turned to the gusts. each man knew what was to come upon them and they dismounted, hobbled their horses and threw them bodily to the earth, wrapping a blanket around the head of each. a rustling as of paper rubbing together became noticeable and they threw themselves flat the sun. the search begins upon the earth, their heads wrapped in their coats and buried in the necks of their mounts. for an hour they endured the tortures of hell and then, when the storm had passed, raised their heads and cursed creation. their bodies burned as though they had been shot with fine needles and their clothes were meshes where once was tough cloth. even their shoes were perforated and the throat of each ached with thirst. hopalong fumbled at the canteen resting on his hip and gargled his mouth and throat, washing down the sand which wouldn't come up. his friends did likewise and then looked around. after some time had elapsed the loss of their pack horse was noticed and they swore again. hopalong took the lead in getting his horse ready for service and then rode around in a circle half a mile in diame- ter, but returned empty handed. the horse was gone and with it went their main supply of food and drink. frenchy scowled at the shadow of a cactus and slowly rode toward the northeast, fol- lowed closely by his friends. his hand the search begins up here shore earns all he steals.” hopalong grumbled from force of habit and because no one else would. his companions understood this and paid no attention to him, which in- creased his disgust. what are we up here for?” he asked, belligerently. “why, because them double arrow idiots can't even watch a desert! we have to do their work for them and they hangs around home and gets slaughtered! yes, sir!” he shouted," they can't even take care of themselves when they're in line-houses what are forts. why, that time we cleaned out them an' th' c- over at buckskin they couldn't help runnin' into singin' lead!” “yas," drawled red, whose recollection of that fight was vivid. “yas, an' why?" he asked, and then replied to his own ques- tion. “because yu sat up in a barn behind them, buck played his gun on th' side win- dow, pete an' skinny lay behind a rock to one side of buck, me an' lanky was across th' street in front of them, an' billy an' johnny was in th' arroyo on th' other side. cowan bar- laid on his stummick on th' roof of his place with a . caliber buffalo gun, an' th' whole blamed town was agin them. there wasn't five seconds passed that lead wasn't rippin' through th' walls of their shack. th' hous- ton house wasn't made for no fort, an' be- sides, they wasn't like th' gang that's punchin' now. that's why." hopalong became cheerful again, for here was a chance to differ from his friend. the two loved each other the better the more they squabbled. “yas!” responded hopalong with sar- “yas!” he reiterated, drawling it out. “yu was in front of them, an' with what? why, an' old, white-haired, interfer- ing winchester, that's what! me an' my sharp's yu and yore sharp's!” exploded red, whose, dislike for that rifle was very pro- nounced. “yu and yore sharp's- “me an' my sharp’s, as i was palaverin' before bein' interrupted,” continued hopa- long, “ did more damage in five min- played helll” snapped red with heat. casm. the search begins “ all yu an yore sharp's could do was to cut yore initials in th' back door of their shack an' “ did more damage in five minutes,” con- tinued hopalong, “than all th' blasted winchesters in th' whole damned town. why- an' then they was cut blamed poor. every time that cannon of yourn exploded i shore thought th'" why, cowan an' his buffalo did more damage (cowan was reputed to be a very poor shot) than yu an'- “i thought th' artillery was comin' into th' disturbance. i could see yore red head" “my red head!” exclained hopalong, sizing up the crimson warlock of his com- panion. “my red headl" he repeated, and then turned to frenchy: “hey, frenchy, whose got th' reddest hair, me or red?” frenchy slowly turned in his saddle and gravely scrutinized them. being strictly im- partial and truthful, he gave up the chort of differentiating and smiled. “why, if th bar - tops of yore heads were poked through two holes in a board an' i didn't know which was which, i'd shore make a mistake if i tried to name 'em.” thereupon the discussion was directed at the judge, and the forenoon passed very pleas- antly, frenchy even smiling in his misery. chapter xix hopalong's decision sho hortly after noon, hopalong, who had ridden with his head bowed low in meditation, looked up and slapped his thigh. then he looked at red and grinned. “look ahere, red,” he began, “there ain't no rustlers with their headquarters on this god-forsaken sand heap, an' there never was. they have to have water an' lots of it, too, an' th' nearest of any account is th' pecos, or some of them streams over in th' panhandle. th' panhandle is th' best place. there are lots of streams an' lakes over there an' they're right in a good grass country. why, an' army could hide over there an' never be found unless it was hunted for blamed good. then, again, it's close to th' railroad. up north aways is th' south branch of th' santa fé trail an' it's far enough away not to bother anybody in th' middle pan- hopalong's decision could tell where they turned with th' wind raisin' th' devil with th' trail? didn't we follow a trail for a ways, an' then what? why, there wasn't none to follow. we can ride north 'till we walk behind ourselves an' never get a peek at them. i am in favor of headin' for th' sulphur spring creek district. we can spend a couple of weeks, if we has to, an' prospect that whole region without havin' to cut our water down to a smell an' a taste an' live on jerked beef. if we investigates that country we'll find something else than sand storms, poisoned water holes an' blisters." • ain't th' panhandle full of nesters (farmers) ? ” inquired red, doubtfully. “along th' canadian an' th' edges, yas; in th' middle, no," explained hopalong. “they hang close together on account of th' war- whoops, an' they like th' trails purty well be- cause of there allus bein' somebody passin'." buck ought to send some of th' pan- handle boys up there,” suggested red. “there's pie willis an' th' jordans—they knows th' panhandle like yu knows poker.” bar - frenchy had paid no apparent attention to the conversation up to this point, but now he declared himself. “yu heard what buck said, didn't yu?” he asked. “we were told to search th' staked plains from one end to th' other an' i'm goin' to do it if i can hold out long enough. i ain't goin' to palaver with yu because what yu say can't be denied as far as wisdom is concerned. yu may have hit it plumb center, but i knows what i was ordered to do, an' yu can't get me to go over there if you shouts all night. when buck says anything, she goes. he wants to know where th' cards are stacked an' why he can't holler · keno,' an' i'm goin' to find out if i can. yu can go to patagonia if yu wants to, but yu go alone as far as i am concerned." “well, it's better if yu don't go with us, replied hopalong, taking it for granted that red would accompany him. pect this end of th' game an' we'll be takin' care of th' other. it's two chances now where we only had one afore." “yu go east an' i'll hunt around as or- dered,” responded frenchy. “ yu can pros- hopalong's decision “east nothin'," replied hopalong. "yu don't get me to wallow in hot alkali an' lose time ridin' in ankle-deep sand when i can hit th' south trail, skirt th' white sand hills an' be in god's country again. i ain't goin' to wrastle with no cañon this here trip, none whatever. i'm goin' to travel in style, get to big spring by ridin' two miles to where i could only make one on this stove. then i'll head north along sulphur spring creek an' have water an' grass all th' all th' way, barrin' a few stretches. while you are bein' fricassed i'll be streakin' through cottonwood groves an' ridin' in th' creek." “yu'll have to go alone, then,” said red, resolutely. “frenchy ain't a-goin' to die of lonesomeness on this desert if i knows what i'm about, an' i reckon i do, some. me an' himn'll follow out what buck said, hunt around for a while an' then frenchy can go back to th' ranch to tell buck what's up an' i'll take th' trail yu are a-scared of an' meet yu at th' east end of cunningham lake three days from now." "yu better come with me," coaxed hopa- hopalong’s decision long, not liking what his friend had said about being afraid of the trail past the cañon and wishing to have some one with whom to talk on his trip. “ i'm goin' to have a nice long swim to-morrow night,” he added, trying bribery. “an' i'm goin' to try to keep from hittin' my blisters,” responded red. “i don't want to go swimmin' in no creek full of moccasins i'd rather sleep with rattlers or copper- heads. every time i sees a cotton-mouth i feels like i had just sit down on one." " i'll aip a coin to see whether yu comes or not,” proposed hopalong. * if yu wants to gamble so bad i'll flip yu to see who draws our pay next month, but not for what yu said,” responded red, chok- ing down the desire to try his luck. hopalong grinned and turned toward the south. “if i sees buck afore yu do, i'll tell him yu an' frenchy are growin' watermelons · up near last stand rock an' are waitin' for rain. well, so long," he said. “yu tell buck we're obeyin' orders! " bar - shouted red, sorry that he was not going with his bunkie. frenchy and red rode on in silence, the latter feeling strangely lonesome, for he and the departed man had seldom been separated when journeys like this were to be taken. and when in search of pleasure they were nearly always together. frenchy, while being very friendly with hopalong, a friendship that would have placed them side by side against any odds, was not accustomed to his com- pany and did not notice his absence. red looked off toward the south for the tenth time and for the tenth time thought that his friend might return. “he's a son- of-a-gun," he soliloquized. his companion looked up: “he shore is, an' he's right about this rustler business, too. but we'll look around for a day or so an' then yu raise dust for th' lake. i'll go back to th' ranch an' get things primed, so there'll be no time lost when we get th' word.” “i'm sorry i went an' said what i did about me takin' th' trail he was a-scared of,” bar confessed red, after a pause. “why, he ain't a-scared of nothin'." “he got back at yu about them water- melons, so what's th' difference?” asked frenchy. “he don't owe yu nothin'.” an hour later they searched the devil's rocks, but found no rustlers. filling their canteens at a tiny spring and allowing their mounts to drink the remainder of the water, they turned toward hell arroyo, which they reached at nightfall. here, also, their search availed them nothing and they paused in indecision. then frenchy turned toward his companion and advised him to ride toward the lake in the night when it was compara- tively cool. red considered and then decided that the advice was good. he rolled a cigarette, wheeled and faced the east and spurred for- ward: “so long," he called. so long,” replied frenchy, who turned toward the south and departed for the ranch. the foreman of the bar- was cleaning his rifle when he heard the hoof-beats of a bar - the barred horseshoe, eighteen in all, came next and had scarcely dismounted when those of the c- and the double arrow, fretting at the delay, rode up. with the sixteen from the bar- the force numbered seventy-five resolute and pugnacious cow-punchers, all aching to wipe out the indignities suffered. bar- nizing pie willis. “what was yu chasin' so hard?" coyote-damn 'em, but can't they go some? they're gettin' so thick we'll shore have to try strichnine an' thin 'em out." “i thought anybody that had been raised in th' panhandle would know better'n to chase greased lightnin'," rebuked hopalong. “ yu has got about as much show catchin' one of them as a tenderfoot has of bustin' an outlawed cayuse." “ shore; i know it,” responded pie, grin- ning “but it's fun seein' them hunt th' horizon. what are yu doin' down here an' where are yore pardners ?” thereupon hopalong enlightened his in- quisitive companion as to what had occurred and as to his reasons for riding south. pie immediately became enthusiastic and an- nounced his intention of accompanying hopa- long on his quest, which intention struck that gentleman as highly proper and wise. then pie hastily turned and played at chasing coyotes in the direction of the line-house, where he announced that his absence would bar and any one of them would save a day's hard riding. hopalong made no objection to allowing his companion to lead the way over any trail he saw fit, for he knew that pie had been born and brought up in the pan- handle, the cunningham lake district having been his back yard, as it were. so they fol- lowed the short cut having the most water and grass, and pounded out a lively tattoo as they raced over the stretches of sand which seemed to slide beneath them. “what do yu know about this here busi- ness ? " inquired pie, as they raced past a chaparral and onto the edge of a grassy plain. nothin' more'n yu do, only buck said he thought slippery trendley is at th' bottom of it." what!” ejaculated ejaculated pie in surprise. “him!" “yore on. an' between yu an' me an' th' devil, i wouldn't be a heap surprised if dea- con rankin is with him, neither." pie whistled: "are him an' th' deacon pals ? " “shore," replied hopalong, buttoning up a problem solved was his vest and rolling a cigarette.“ didn't they allus hang out together! one watched that th' other didn't get plugged from behind. it a sort of yu-scratch-my-back-an’-i'll- scratch-yourn arrangement." “ well, if they still hangs out together, i know where to hunt for our cows,' responded pie. “th' deacon used to range along th' headwaters of th' colorado-it ain't far from cunningham lake. thunderation !" he shouted, “i knows th' very ground they're on—i can take yu to th' very shack!” then to himself he muttered: “an' that doodlebug billy jordan thinkin' he knowed more about th' panhandle than me! hopalong showed his elation in an appro- priate manner and his companion drank deeply from the proffered flask. thereupon they treated their mounts to liberal doses of strap-oil and covered the ground with great speed. they camped early, for hopalong was al- most worn out from the exertions of the past few days and the loss of sleep he had sus- tained. pie, too excited to sleep and having bar - had unbroken rest for a long period, volun- teered to keep guard, and his companion eagerly consented. early the next morning they broke camp. and the evening of the same day found them fording sulphur spring creek, and their quarry lay only an hour beyond, according to pie. then they forded one of the streams which form the headwaters of the colorado, and two hours later they dismounted in a cottonwood grove. picketing their horses they carefully made their way through the timber, which was heavily grown with brush, and, after half an hour's maneuvering, came within sight of the further edge. dropping down on all fours, they crawled to the last line of brush and looked out over an exten- sive bottoms. at their feet lay a small river, and in a clearing on the farther side was a rough camp, consisting of about a dozen lean- to shacks and log cabins in the main collec- tion, and a few scattered cabins along the edge. a huge fire was blazing before the main collection of huts, and to the rear of a problem solved these was an indistinct black mass, which they knew to be the corral. at a rude table before the fire more than a score of men were eating supper and others could be heard moving about and talking at different points in the background. while the two scouts were learning the lay of the land, they saw mr. trendley and deacon rankin walk out of the cabin most distant from the fire, and the latter limped. then they saw two men lying on rude cots, and they wore bandages. evidently johnny redmond had scored in his fight. the odor of burning cowhide came from the corral, accompanied by the squeals of cat- tle, and informed them that brands were be- ing blotted out. hopalong longed to charge down and do some blotting out of another kind, but a heavy hand was placed on his shoulder and he silently wormed his way after pie as that person led the way back to the horses. mounting, they picked their way out of the grove and rode over the plain at a walk. when far enough away to insure thar a problem solved daylight took up his journey after a scanty breakfast from his saddle-bags. shortly before noon he came in sight of the lake and looked for his friend. he had just ridden around a clump of cottonwoods when he was hit on the back with something large and soft. turning in his saddle, with his colt's ready, he saw red sitting on a stump, a huge grin extending over his fea- tures. he replaced the weapon, said some- thing about fools and dismounted, kicking aside the bundle of grass his friend had thrown. “ yore shore casy,” remarked red, toss- ing aside his cold cigarette. “suppose i was trendley, where would yu be now?" diggin' a hole to put yu in,” pleasantly replied hopalong. “if i didn't know he wasn't around this part of the country i wouldn't a rode as i did." the man on the stump laughed and rolled a fresh cigarette. lighting it, he inquired where mr. trendley was, intimating by his words that the rustler had not been found. about thirty miles to th' southeast." re- ". bar - tler who could cross that zone under the fire of the besiegers would be welcome to his drink. it was very evident that the rustlers had no thought of defense, thinking, perhaps, that they were immune from attack with such a well covered trail between them and their foes. hopalong mentally accused them of harboring suicidal inclinations and returned with his companion to the horses. they mounted and sat quietly for a while, and then rode slowly away and at dawn reached the split rock, where they awaited the arrival of their friends, one sleeping while the other kept guard. then they drew a rough map of the camp, using the sand for paper, and laid out the plan of attack. as the evening of the next day came on they saw pie, followed by many punchers, ride over a rise a mile to the south and they rode out to meet him. when the force arrived at the camp of the two scouts they were shown the plan prepared for them. buck made a few changes in the disposition of the men and then each mem- bar - the carefully arranged coils of a fifty-foot lariat, and should the chief of the rustlers escape tripping he would have to avoid the cast of the best roper in the southwest. the two others took the northwest corner and one of them leaned slightly forward and gently twitched the tripping-rope. the man at the other end felt the signal and whispered to a companion, who quietly disappeared in the direction of the river and shortly afterward the mournful cry of a whip-poor-will dirged out on the early morning air. it had hardly died away when the quiet was broken by one terrific crash of rifles, and the two camp guards asleep at the fire awoke in another world. mr. trendley, sleeping unusually well for the unjust, leaped from his bed to the middle of the floor and alighted on his feet and wide awake. fearing that a plot was being con- summated to deprive him of his leadership, he grasped the winchester which leaned at the head of his bed and, tearing open the door, crashed headlong to the earth. as he touched the ground, two shadows sped out the call from the shelter of the cabin wall and pounced upon him. men who can rope, throw and tie a wild steer in thirty seconds flat do not waste time in trussing operations, and before a min- ute had elapsed he was being carried into the woods, bound and helpless. lanky sighed, threw the rope over one shoulder and de- parted after his friends. when mr. trendley came to his senses he found himself bound to a tree in the grove near the horses. a man sat on a stump not far from him, three others were seated around a small fire some distance to the north, and four others, one of whom carried a rope, made their way into the brush. he strained at his bonds, decided that the effort was useless and watched the man on the stump, who struck a match and lit a pipe. the prisoner watched the light flicker up and go out and there was left in his mind a picture that he could never forget. the face which had been so cruelly, so grotesquely revealed was that of frenchy mcallister, and across his knees lay a heavy caliber winchester. a curse escaped from the lips of the outlaw; the call among the besiegers and the effect was marked. two men sprinted from the edge of the woods near mr. trendley's cabin and gained the shelter of the storehouse, which soon broke out in flames. the burning brands fell over the main collection of huts, where there was much confusion and swearing. the early hour at which the attack had been delivered at first led the besieged to believe that it was an indian affair, but this impression was soon corrected by the volley firing, which turned hope into despair. it was no great matter to fight indians, that they had done many times and found more or less enjoyment in it; but there was a vast difference between brave and puncher, and the chances of their salva- tion became very small. they surmised that it was the work of the cow-men on whom they had preyed and that vengeful punchers lay hidden behind that death-fringe of green willow and hazel. red, assisted by his inseparable companion, hopalong, laboriously climbed up among the branches of a black walnut and hooked one bar - leg over a convenient limb. then he lowered his rope and drew up the winchester which his accommodating friend fastened to it. set- tling himself in a comfortable position and sheltering his body somewhat by the tree, he shaded his eyes by a hand and peered into the windows of the distant cabins. “how is she, red?” anxiously inquired the man on the ground. bully: want to come up o ?” nope. i'm goin' to catch yu when yu lets go,” replied hopalong with a grin. which same i ain't goin' to," responded the man in the tree. he swung his rifle out over a forked limb and let it settle in the crotch. then he slewed his head around until he gained the bead he wished. five minutes passed before he caught sight of his man and then he fired. jerking out the empty shell he smiled and called out to his friend: “one." hopalong grinned and went off to tell buck to put all the men in trees. night came on and still the firing con- tinued. then an explosion shook the woods. the call the storehouse had blown up and a sky full of burning timber fell on the cabins and soon three were half consumed, their occupants dropping as they gained the open air. one hundred paces makes fine pot-shooting, as deacon rankin discovered when evacuation was the choice necessary to avoid cremation. he never moved after he touched the ground and red called out: “two," not knowing that his companion had departed. the morning of the next day found a wearied and hopeless garrison, and shortly before noon a soiled white shirt was flung from a window in the nearest cabin. buck ran along the line and ordered the firing to cease and caused to be raised an answering flag of truce. a full minute passed and then the door slowly opened and a leg protruded, more slowly followed by the rest of the man, and cheyenne charley strode out to the bank of the river and sat down. his example was followed by several others and then an unex- pected event occurred. those in the cabins who preferred to die fighting, angered at this desertion, opened fire on their former com- bar rades, who barely escaped by rolling down the slightly inclined bank into the river. red fired again and laughed to himself. then the fugitives swam down the river and landed under the guns of the last squad. they were taken to the rear and, after being bound, were placed under a guard. there were seven in the party and they looked worn out. when the huts were burning the fiercest the uproar in the corral arose to such a pitch as to drown all other sounds. there were left within its walls a few hundred cattle whose brands had not yet been blotted out, and these, maddened to frenzy by the shooting and the flames, tore from one end of the inclosure to the other, crashing against the alternate walls with a noise which could be heard far out on the plain. scores were trampled to death on each charge and finally the uproar sub- sided in sheer want of cattle left with energy enough to continue. when the corral was investigated the next day there were found the bodies of four rustlers, but recognition was impossible. several of the defenders were housed in the call cabins having windows in the rear walls, which the occupants considered fortunate. this opinion was revised, however, after sev- eral had endeavored to escape by these open- ings. the first thing that occurred when a man put his head out was the hum of a bullet, and in two cases the experimenters lost all need of escape. the volley firing had the desired effect, and at dusk there remained only one cabin from which came opposition. such a fire was con- centrated on it that before an hour had passed the door fell in and the firing ceased. there was a rush from the side, and the barred horseshoe men who swarmed through the cabins emerged without firing a shot. the organization that had stirred up the pecos valley ranches had ceased to exist. the showdown the open door. the leader, hopalong, dis- appeared within and was followed by mr. trendley, bound and hobbled and tied to red, the rear being brought up by frenchy, whose rifle lolled easily in the crotch of his elbow. the singing went on uninterrupted and the hum of voices between the selections remained unchanged. buck left the crowd around the fire and went into the cabin, where his voice was heard assenting to something. hopa- long emerged and took a seat at the fire, send- ing two punchers to take his place. he was joined by frenchy and red, the former very quiet. in the center of a distant group were seven men who were not armed. their belts, half full of cartridges, supported empty holsters, they sat and talked to the men around them, swapping notes and experiences, and in several instances found former friends and acquaintances. these men were not bound and were apparently members of buck's force. then one of them broke down, but quickly regained his nerve and proposed a game of cards. a fire was started and several bar - games were immediately in progress. these seven men were to die at daybreak. as the night grew older man after man rolled himself in his blanket and lay down where he sat, sinking off to sleep with a swift- ness that bespoke tired muscles and weari- ness. all through the night, however, there were twelve men on guard, of whom three were in the cabin. at daybreak a shot from one of the guards awakened every man within hearing, and soon they romped and scampered down to the river's edge to indulge in the luxury of a morning plunge. after an hour's horseplay they trooped back to the cabin and soon had breakfast out of the way. waffles, foreman of the o-bar-o, and you- bet somes strolled over to the seven unfor- tunates who had just completed a choking breakfast and nodded a hearty “good morn- ing." then others came up and finally all moved off toward the river. crossing it, they disappeared into the grove and all sounds of their advance grew into silence. mr. trendley, escorted outside for the air, the showdown saw the procession as it became lost to sight in the brush. he sneered and asked for a smoke, which was granted. then his guards were changed and the men began to straggle back from the grove. mr. trendley, with his back to the cabin, scowled defiantly at the crowd that hemmed him in. the coolest, most damnable mur- derer in the west was not now going to beg for mercy. when he had taken up crime as a means of livelihood he had decided that if the price to be paid for his course was death, he would pay like a man. he glanced at the cottonwood grove, wherein were many ghastly secrets, and smiled. his hairless eye- brows looked like livid scars and his lips quivered in scorn and anger. as he sneered at buck there was a move- ment in the crowd before him and a pathway opened for frenchy, who stepped forward slowly and deliberately, as if on his way to some bar for a drink. there was something different about the man who had searched the staked plain with hopalong and red: he was not the same puncher who had arrived bar - from montana three weeks before. there was lacking a certain air of carelessness and he chilled his friends, who looked upon him as if they had never really known him. he walked up to mr. trendley and gazed deeply into the evil eyes. twenty years before, frenchy mcallister had changed his identity from a happy-go- vlucky, devil-may-care cow-puncher and became a machine. the grief that had torn his soul was not of the kind which seeks its outlet in tears and wailing: it had turned and struck inward, and now his deliberate ferocity was icy and devilish. only a glint in his eyes told of exultation, and his words were sharp and incisive; one could well imagine one heard the click of his teeth as they bit off the conso- nants: every letter was clear-cut, every sylla- ble startling in its clearness. “twenty years and two months ago to-day,” he began," you arrived at the ranch- house of the double y, up near the montana- wyoming line. everything was quiet, except, perhaps, a woman's voice, singing. you entered, and before you left you pinned a the showdown note to that woman's dress. i found it, and it is due.” the air of carelessness disappeared from the members of the crowd and the silence be- came oppressive. most of those present knew parts of frenchy's story, and all were in hearty accord with anything he might do. he reached within his vest and brought forth a deerskin bag. opening it, he drew out a package of oiled silk and from that he took a paper. carefully replacing the silk and the bag, he slowly unfolded the sheet in his hand and handed it to buck, whose face hardened. two decades had passed since the foreman of the bar- had seen that precious sheet, but the scene of its finding would never fade from his memory. he stood as if carved from stone, with a look on his face that made the crowd shift uneasily and glance at trendley. frenchy turned to the rustler and regarded him evilly. “you are the hellish brute that wrote that note," pointing to the paper in the hand of his friend. then, turning again, he spoke: * buck, read that paper." bar - the foreman cleared his throat and read distinctly: “mcallister: yore wife is to damn good to live. trendley." there was a shuffling sound, but buck and frenchy, silently backed up by hopalong and red, intervened, and the crowd fell back, where it surged in indecision. “gentlemen," said frenchy, “i want you to vote on whether any man here has more right to do with slippery trendley as he sees fit than myself. any one who thinks so, or that he should be treated like the others, step forward. majority rules.” there was no advance and he spoke again: " is there any one here who objects to this man dying?" hopalong and red awkwardly bumped their knuckles against their guns and there was no response. the prisoner was bound with cowhide to the wall of the cabin and four men sat near and facing him. the noonday meal was eaten in silence, and the punchers rode off the showdown to see about rounding up the cattle that grazed over the plain as far as eye could see. supper-time came and passed, and busy men rode away in all directions. others came and relieved the guards, and at midnight another squad took up the vigil. day broke and the thunder of hoofs as the punchers rounded up the cattle in herds of about five thousand each became very noticeable. one herd swept past toward the south, guarded and guided by fifteen men. two hours later and another followed, taking a slightly different trail so as to avoid the closc-cropped grass left by the first. at irregular intervals during the day other herds swept by, until six had passed and denuded the plain of cattle. buck, perspiring and dusty, accompanied by hopalong and red, rode up to where the guards smoked and joked. frenchy came out of the cabin and smiled at his friends. swing- ing in his left hand was a newly filled colt's . , which was recognized by his friends as the one found in the cabin and it bore a rough “t” gouged in the butt. bar – ) buck looked around and cleared his throat: we've got th' cows on th' home trail, frenchy," he suggested. yas?" inquired frenchy. " are there many?" six drives of about five thousand to th' drive." “ all th' boys gone?" asked the man with the newly filled colt's. yas,” replied buck, waving his hand at the guards, ordering them to follow their friends. “it's a good deal for us: we've done right smart this hand. an' it's a good thing we've got so many punchers: thirty thousand's a big contract.” “about five times th' size of th' herd that blamed near made angels out'en me an' yu," responded frenchy with a smile. i hope almighty hard that we don't have no stampedes on this here drive. thirty thou- sand locoed cattle would just about wipe up this here territory. if th' last herds go wild they'll pick up th' others, an' then there'll be th’ devil to pay.” frenchy smiled again and shot a glance at the showdown where mr. trendley was bound to the cabin wall. buck looked steadily southward for some time and then flecked a foam-sud from the flank of his horse. “we are goin' south along th' creek until we gets to big spring, where we'll turn right smart to th' west. we won't be able to make more'n twelve miles a day, 'though i'm goin' to drive them hard. how's yore grub?" “grub to burn." “got yore rope ?” asked the foreman of the bar- , speaking as if the question had no especial meaning. frenchy smiled: “yes.” hopalong absent-mindedly jabbed his spurs into his mount with the result that when the storm had subsided the spell was broken and he said " so long,” and rode south, fol- lowed by buck and red. as they swept out of sight behind a grove red turned in his saddle and waved his hat. buck discussed with assiduity the prospects of a rainfall and was very cheerful about the recovery of the stolen cattle. red could see a tall, broad- bar shouldered man standing with his feet spread far apart, swinging a colt's . , and hopa- long swore at everything under the sun. dust arose in streaming clouds far to the south and they spurred forward to overtake the outfits. buck peters, riding over the starlit plain, in his desire to reach the first herd, which slept somewhere to the west of him under the care of waffles, thought of the events of the past few weeks and gradually became lost in the memories of twenty years before, which crowded up before his mind like the notes of a half-forgotten song. his nature, tem- pered by two decades of a harsh existence, softened as he lived again the years that had passed and as he thought of the things which had been. he was so completely lost in his reverie that he failed to hear the muffled hoof- beats of a horse that steadily gained upon him, and when frenchy mcallister placed a friendly hand on his shoulder he started as if from a deep sleep. the two looked at each other and their hands met. the question which sprang into chapter xxiii mr. cassidy meets a woman the the work of separating the cattle into herds of the different brands was a big contract, but with so many men it took but a comparatively short time, and in two weeks all signs of the rustlers had faded. it was then that good news went the rounds and the men looked forward to a week of pleasure, which was all the sharper accentuated by the grim mercilessness of the expedition into the panhandle. here was a chance for unlimited hilarity and a whole week in which to give strict attention to celebrating the recent vic- tory. so one day mr. hopalong cassidy rode rapidly over the plain, thinking about the joys and excitement promised by the carnival to be held at muddy wells. with that rivalry so common to western towns the inhabitants maintained that the carnival was to break all cassidy meets a woman records, this because it was to be held in their town. perry's bend and buckskin had each promoted a similar affair, and if this year's festivities were to be an improvement on those which had gone before, they would most cer- tainly be worth riding miles to see. perry's bend had been unfortunate in being the first to hold a carnival, inasmuch as it only set a mark to be improved upon, and buckskin had taken advantage of this and had added a brass band, and now in turn was to be eclipsed. the events slated were numerous and varied, the most important being those which dealt directly with the everyday occupations of the inhabitants of that section of the coun- try. broncho busting, steer-roping and tying, rifle and revolver shooting, trick riding and fancy roping made up the main features of the programme and were to be set off by horse and foot racing and other county fair neces- sities. buckskin's brass band was to be on hand and the climax was to be capped by a scientific exhibition between two real roped- arena stars. therefore muddy wells rubbed its hands and smiled in condescending egotism cassidy meets a woman first place” for the honor of his ranch. these expectations were backed with all the avail- able bar- money, and, if they were not real- ized, something in the nature of a calamity would swoop down upon and wrap that ranch in gloom. since the o-bar-o was aggres- sively optimistic the betting was at even money, hats and guns, and the losers would begin life anew so far as earthly possessions were concerned. no other competitors were considered in this event, as skinny and lefty had so far outclassed all others that the honor was believed to lie between these two. hopalong, blissfully figuring out the chances of the different contestants, galloped around a clump of mesquite only fifteen miles from muddy wells and stiffened in his sad- dle, for twenty rods ahead of him on the trail was a woman. as she heard him ap- proach she turned and waited for him to over- take her, and when she smiled he raised his sombrero and bowed. “will you please tell me where i am ? " she asked. bar - “yu are fifteen miles southeast of muddy wells,” he replied. “but which is southeast ? right behind yu," he answered. “th' town lies right ahead." “ are you going there?" she asked. “yes, ma'am.' “ then you will not care if i ride with you ? ” she asked. “i am a trifle frightened.” “why, i'd be some pleased if yu do, 'though there ain't nothing out here to be afraid of now." “i had no intention of getting lost," she assured him, “but i dismounted to pick flow- ers and cactus leaves and after a while i had no conception of where i was." “how is it yu are out here?” he asked. “yu shouldn't get so far from town.” why, papa is an invalid and doesn't like to leave his room, and the town is so dull, although the carnival is waking it up some- what. having nothing to do i procured a horse and determined to explore the country. why, this is like stanley and livingstone, isn't it? you rescued the explorer!" and she cassidy meets a woman laughed heartily. he wondered who in thunder stanley and livingstone were, but said nothing “i like the west, it is so big and free," she continued. “ but it is very monotonous at times, especially when compared with new york. papa swears dreadfully at the hotel and declares that the food will drive him in- sane, but i notice that he eats much more heartily than he did when in the city. and the service !-it is awful. but when one leaves the town behind it is splendid, and i can appreciate it because i had such a hard season in the city last winter—so many balls, parties and theaters that i simply wore my- self out." “i never hankered much for them things," hopalong replied. “and i don't like th' towns much, either. once or twice a year i gets as far as kansas city, but i soon tires of it an' hits th' back trail. yu see, i don't like a fence country—i wants lots of room an' air." she regarded him intently: "i know that you will think me very forward." bar - he smiled and slowly replied: “i think vyu are all o. k.” 'there do not appear to be many women in this country,” she suggested. no, there ain't many,” he replied, think- ing of the kind to be found in all of the cow- towns. 'they don't seem to hanker for this kind of life-they wants parties an' lots of dancin' an' them kind of things. i reckon there ain't a whole lot to tempt 'em to come. you evidently regard women as being very frivolous,” she replied. well, i'm speakin' from there not being any out here," he responded, " although i don't know much about them, to tell th' truth. them what are out here can't be counted.” then he fushed and looked away. she ignored the remark and placed her hand to her hair: goodness! my hair must look terrible!" he turned and looked: “ yore hair is pretty—i allus did like brown hair.'' she laughed and put back the straggling locks: “ it is terrible! just look at it! isn't it awful?" ) bar plied, “only it's a valuable tree out here. th' apaches use it a whole lot of ways. they get honey from th' blossoms an' glue an' gum, an' they use th' bark for tannin' hide. th' dried pods an' leaves are used to feed their cattle, an' th' wood makes corrals to keep 'em in. they use th' wood for making other things, too, an' it is of two colors. th' sap makes a dye what won't wash out, an' th' beans make a bread what won't sour or get hard. then it makes a barrier that shore is a dandy—coyotes an' men can't get through it, an' it protects a whole lot of birds an' things. th' snakes hate it like poison, for th' thorns get under their scales an' whoops things up for 'em. it keeps th' sand from shiftin', too. down south where there is plenty of water, it often grows forty feet high, but up here it squats close to th' ground so it can save th' moisture. in th' night th' temperature sometimes falls thirty degrees, an' that helps it, too." “how can it live without water?" she asked. “it gets all th' water it wants,” he replied, cassidy meets a woman smiling. “th' tap roots go straight down 'til they find it, sometimes fifty feet. that's why it don't shrivel up in th' sun. then there are a lot of little roots right under it an' they protects th' tap roots. th' shade it gives is th' coolest out here, for th' leaves turn with th' wind an' lets th' breeze through-they're hung on little stems." "how splendid!” she exclaimed. “oh! look there!” she cried, pointing ahead of them. a chaparral cock strutted from its de- capitated enemy, a rattlesnake, and disap- peared in the chaparral. hopalong laughed: “mr. scissors bill read-runner has great fun with snakes. he runs along th' sand-an' he can run, too_ an' sees a snake takin' a siesta. snip! goes his bill an' th' snake slides over th' divide. our fighting friend may stop some coyote's appetite before morning, though, unless he stays where he is." just then a gray wolf blundered in sight a few rods ahead of them, and hopalong fired instantly. his companion shrunk from him and looked at him reproachfully. bar - why did you do that!” she demanded. why, because they costs us big money every year,” he replied. “there's a bounty on them because they pull down calves, an' sometimes full grown cows. i'm shore won- derin' why he got so close—they're usually just out of range, where they stays.” “ promise me that you will shoot no more while i am with you.” why, shore: i didn't think yu'd care,” he replied. “yu are like that sky-pilot over to las cruces—he preached agin killin' things, which is all right for him, who didn't have no cows." “do you go to the missions?" she asked. he replied that he did, sometimes, but for- got to add that it was usually for the purpose of hilarity, for he regarded sky-pilots with humorous toleration. "tell me all about yourself—what you do for enjoyment and all about your work,” she requested. he explained in minute detail the art of punching cows, and told her more of the west in half an hour than she could have learned cassidy meets a woman from a year's experience. she showed such keen interest in his words that it was a pleas- ure to talk to her, and he monopolized the conversation until the town intruded its sprawling collection of unpainted shacks and adobe huts in their field of vision. .. chapter xxiv the strategy of mr. peters hop opalong and his companion rode into muddy wells at noon, and red connors, who leaned with buck peters against the side of tom lee's saloon, gasped his astonishment. buck looked twice to be sure, and then muttered incredulously: what th' h- !” red repeated the phrase and retreated within the saloon, while buck stood his ground, having had much experience with women, inasmuch as he had narrowly escaped marrying. he thought that he might as well get all the information possible, and waited for an introduction. it was in vain, however, for the two rode past without notic- ing him. buck watched them turn the corner and then called for red to come out, but that per- son, fearing an ordeal, made no reply and the foreman went in after him. the timorous bar- an' get over his bar. there's nothing th' matter with his eyesight, but he's plumb locoed, all th' same. he'll go stuck on her an' then she'll hit th' trail for home an' mamma, an' he won't be worth his feed for a year.” then he paused in consternation: “thunder, red: he's got to shoot to-morrow! ” "well, suppose he has ? ” responded red. “i don't reckon she'll stampede his gun-play none." “yu don't reckon, eh?” queried buck with much irony. “no, an' that's what's th’ matter with yu. why, do yu expect to see him to-morrow? yu won't if i knows him an' i reckon i do. nope, he'll be follerin' her all around." “he's got sand to burn," remarked red in “wonder how he got to know her?” “yu can gamble she did th' introducing part—he ain't got th' nerve to do it himself. he saved her life, or she thinks he did, or some romantic nonsense like that. better go around an' get him away, an' keep him away, too.' who, me?" inquired red in indignation. awe. so yu the strategy of peters two hours later billy walked up to his foreman and weakly asked what was wanted. he looked as though he had just been released from a six-months' stay in a hospital. “yu go over to th' hotel an' find hopa- long," said the foreman sternly. “stay with him all th' time, for there is a plot on foot to wing him on th’sly. if yu ain't mighty spry he'll be dead by night.” having delivered the above instructions and prevarications, buck throttled the laugh which threatened to injure him and scowled at red, who again fed into the saloon for fear of spoiling it all with revealed mirth. the convalescent stared in open-mouthed astonishment: “what's he doin' in th' hotel, an' who's goin' to plug him?" he asked. “yu leave that to me," replied buck. “ all yu has to do is to get on th' job with yore gun,” handing the weapon to him, “an' freeze to him like a flea on a cow. mebby there'll be a woman in th' game, but that ain't none of yore funeral-yu do what i said.” ✓ “d-n th' women!” exploded billy, mov- bar - ing off. when he had entered the hotel buck went in to red. for god's sake!” moaned that person in senseless reiteration. 'th' lord help billy! holy mackinaw!” he shouted. . gimme a drink an' let me tell th' boys.” the members of the outfit were told of the plot and they gave their uproarious sanction, all needing bracers to sustain them. billy found the clerk swapping lies with the bartender and, procuring the desired in- formation, climbed the stairs and hunted for room no. . discovering it, he dispensed with formality, pushed open the door and entered. he found his friend engaged in conversa- tion with a pretty young woman, and on a couch at the far side of the room lay an elderly, white-whiskered gentleman who was reading a magazine. billy felt like a criminal for a few seconds and then there came to him the thought that his was a mission of great import and he braced himself to face any ordeal. “anyway," he thought, “th' pret- tier they are th' more h- they can raise." bar “lord!” ejaculated the newcomer, star- ing at the vision of female loveliness which so suddenly greeted him. “mamma," he added under his breath. then he tore off his som- ✓brero:" come out of this, billy, yu chump!” he exploded, backing toward the door, being followed by the protector. hopalong slammed the door and turned to his hostess, apologizing for the disturbance. “who are they?" palpitated miss deane. what the h- are they doing up here!" blazed her father. hopalong disclaimed any knowledge of them and just then billy opened the door and looked in. “there he is again ! " cried miss deane, and her father gasped. hopalong ran out into the hall and nar- rowly missed kicking billy into kingdom come as that person slid down the stairs, sur- prised and indignant. mr. billy williams, who sat at the top of the stairs, was feeling hungry and thirsty when he saw his friend, mr. pete wilson, the slow witted, approaching. the strategy of peters you will shoot to-morrow, for i will see that you do, and i will bring luck to the bar- . be sure to call for me at one o'clock: i will be ready.” he hesitated, bowed, and slowly departed, making his way to tom lee's, where his en- trance hushed the hilarity which had reigned. striding to where buck stood, he placed his hands on his hips and searched the foreman's eyes. buck smiled: “yu ain't mad, are yu?” he asked. hopalong relaxed: “no, but d-n near it." red and the others grabbed him from the rear, and when he had been “buffaloed” into good humor he threw them from him, laughed and waved his hand toward the bar: “come up, yu sons-of-guns. yore a d-d nuisance sometimes, but yore a bully gang all th' same." chapter xxv mr. ewalt draws cards tex ex ewalt, cow-puncher, prospector, sometimes a rustler, but always a dude, rode from el paso in deep disgust at his steady losses at faro and monte. the pecuni- ary side of these caused him no worry, for he was aush. this pleasing opulence was due to his business ability, for he had recently sold a claim for several thousand dollars. the first operation was simple, being known in western phraseology as “jumping "; and the second, somewhat more complicated, was known as salting.” the first of the money spent went for a complete new outfit, and he had parted with just three hundred and seventy dollars to feed his vanity. he desired something contrasty and he procured it. his sombrero, of gray felt a quarter of an inch thick, flaunted a band of black leather, on which was conspicuously mr. ewalt draws cards displayed a solid silver buckle. his neck was protected by a crimson kerchief of the finest, heaviest silk. his shirt, in pattern the same as those commonly worn in the cow country, was of buckskin, soft as a baby's cheek and impervious to water, and the angora goat- skin chaps, with the long silken hair worn outside, were as white as snow. around his waist ran loosely a broad, black leather belt supporting a heavy black holster, in which lay its walnut-handled burden, a . caliber remington six-shooter; and fifty center-fire cartridges peeked from their loops, twenty- five on a side. his boots, the soles thin and narrow and the heels high, were black and of the finest leather. huge spurs, having two- inch rowels, were held in place by buckskin straps, on which, also, were silver buckles. protecting his hands were heavy buckskin gloves, also waterproof, having wide, black gauntlets. each dainty hock of his dainty eight-hun- c'red-pound buckskin pony was black, and a black star graced its forehead. well groomed, with flowing mane and tail, and bar – with the brand on its flank being almost im- perceptible, the animal was far different in appearance from most of the cow-ponies. vicious and high-spirited, it cavorted just enough to show its lines to the best advantage. the saddle, a famous cheyenne and forty pounds in weight, was black, richly embossed, and decorated with bits of beaten silver which aashed back the sunlight. at the pommel hung a thirty-foot coil of braided horsehair rope, and at the rear was a sharp's . -caliber, breech-loading rifle, its owner having small use for any other make. the color of the bridle was the same as the saddle and it sup- ported a heavy u bit which was capable of a leverage sufficient to break the animal's jaw. tex was proud of his outfit, but his face wore a frown—not there only on account of his losses, but also by reason of his mission, for under all his finery beat a heart as black as any in the cow country. for months he had smothered hot hatred and he was now on his way to ease himself of it. he and slim travennes had once ex- changed shots with hopalong in santa fé, mr. . ewalt draws cards and the month which he had spent in bed was not pleasing, and from that encounter had sprung the hatred. that he had been in the wrong made no difference with him. some months later he had learned of the death of slim, and it was due to the same man. that slim had again been in the wrong also made no difference, for he realized the fact and nothing else. lately he had been told of the death of slippery trendley and deacon ran- kin, and he accepted their passing as a per- sonal affront. that they had been caught red- handed in cattle stealing of huge proportions and received only what was customary under the conditions formed no excuse in his mind for their passing. he was now on his way to attend the carnival at muddy wells, knowing that his enemy would be sure to be there. while passing through las cruces he met porous johnson and silent somes, who were thirsty and who proclaimed that fact, where- upon he relieved them of their torment and, looking forward to more treatment of a simi- lar nature, they gladly accompanied him with- out asking why or where. bar - as they left the town in their rear tex turned in his saddle and surveyed them with a cynical smile. “have yu heard anything of trendley ?” he asked. they shook their heads. “ him an' th' deacon was killed over in th' panhandle," he said. “what!” chorused the pair. jack dorman, shorty danvers, charley teale, stiffhat bailey, billy jackson, terry nolan an' sailor carson was lynched.” “what!” they shouted. “fish o'brien, pinochle schmidt, tom wilkins, apache gordon, charley of th' bar y, penobscot hughes an' about twenty others died fightin'." porous looked his astonishment: “ cay- alry?" “ an' i'm going after th' who did it,” he continued, ignoring the question. arc yu with me?-yu used to pal with some of them, didn't yu ? " "we did , an' we're shore with yul” cried porous. bar - tex repeated the story as he had heard it from a bibulous member of the barred horse- shoe, and then added a little of torture as a sauce to whet their appetites for revenge. “how did trendley cash in?" asked porous. nobody knows except that bum from th' tin-cup. i'll get him later. i'd a got cas- sidy up in santa fé, too, if it wasn't for th' sun in my eyes. me an' slim loosened up on him in th' plaza, but we couldn't see noth- ing with him a-standin' against th' sun." where's slim now?” asked porous. “i ain't seen him for some time." slim's with trendley,” replied tex. 'cassidy handed him over to st. pete at cactus springs. him an' connors sicked their outfit on him an' his vigilantes, bein' helped some by th' o-bar-o. they wiped th' town plumb off th' earth, an' now i'm going to do some wipin' of my own account. i'll prune that gang of some of its blossoms afore long. it's cost me seventeen friends so far, an' i'm going to stop th' leak, or make another." bar in the doorway and quarreled as to what each should drink and, compromising, lurched in and seated themselves on a table and resumed their vocal perpetrations. tex swaggered over to the bar and tossed va quarter upon it: “ corn juice," he laconic- ally exclaimed. tossing off the liquor and glancing at his howling friends, he shrugged his shoulders and strode out by the rear door, slamming it after him. porous and silent, recounting friends who had “cashed in " fell to weeping and they were thus occupied when hopalong and buck entered, closely followed by the rest of the outfit. buck walked to the bar and was followed by hopalong, who declined his foreman's offer to treat. tom lee set a bottle at buck's elbow and placed his hands against the bar. “friend of yourn just hit th' back trail," he remarked to hopalong. “he was primed some for trouble, too,” he added. “yaas ?" drawled hopalong with little in- terest. the proprietor restacked the few glasses and wiped off the bar. ✓ mr. ewalt draws cards “them's his pardners," he said, indicating the pair on the table. hopalong turned his head and gravely scrutinized them. porous was bemoaning the death of slim travennes and hopalong frowned. don't reckon he's no relation of mine," he grunted. “well, he ain't yore sister," replied tom lee, grinning what's his brand?" asked the puncher. “i reckon he's a maverick, 'though yu put yore brand on him up to santa fé a couple of years back. since he's throwed back on yore range i reckon he's yourn if yu wants him." “i reckon tex is some sore," remarked hopalong, rolling a cigarette. “i reckon he is,” replied the proprietor, tossing buck's quarter in the cash box. “but, say, you should oughter see his rig." yaas?” “he's shore a cow-punch dude—my, butv he's some sumptious and highfalutin'. an' bad? why, he reckons th' lord never brewed bar a more high-toned brand of cussedness than his'n. he shore reckons he's th' baddest man that ever simmered." “how'd he look as th' leadin' man in a vnecktie festival?” blazed johnny from across the room, feeling called upon to help with the conversation. “ he'd be a howlin' success, son,” replied skinny thompson, “judgin' by his friends what we elevated over in th' panhandle." lanky smith leaned forward with his elbow on the table, resting his chin in the palm of his hand: “is ewalt still a-layin' for yu, hopalong?” he asked. hopalong turned wearily and tossed his half-consumed cigarette into the box of sand which did duty as a cuspidore: “i reckon so; an' he shore can hatch whenever he gets good an' ready, too." “he's probably a-broodin' over past griev- ances," offered johnny, as he suddenly pushed lanky's elbow from the table, nearly causing a catastrophe. “ yu'll be broodin' over present grievances if yu don't look out, yu everlastin' nuisance mr. ewalt draws cards yu," growled lanky, planting his elbow in its former position with an emphasis which conveyed a warning. “ these bantams ruffle my feathers," re- marked red. “they go around braggin' about th' egg they're goin' to lay an' do enough cacklin' to furnish music for a dozen. then when th' affair comes off yu'll generally find they's been settin' on a door-knob.” "did yu ever see a hen leave th' walks of peace an' bugs an' rustle hell-bent across th' trail plumb in front of a cayuse?” asked buck. “they'll leave off rustlin' grub an' become candidates for th' graveyard just for cussedness. well, a whole lot of men are th' same way. how many times have i seen them swagger into a gin shop an' try to run things sudden an' hard, and that with half a dozen better men in th' same room? there's shore a-plenty of trouble a-comin' to every man without rustlin' around for more." ''member that time yu an' frenchy tried to run th' little town of frozen nose, up in montana ? ” asked johnny, winking at the rest. bar - with her and she left word here that she was indisposed, which means that you are out- lawed." “who is he?” asked hopalong, having his suspicions. “that friend of yours: ewalt. he sported va wad this morning when she passed him, and she let him make her acquaintance. he's another easy mark. he'll be busted wide open to-night." “i reckon i'll see tex,” suggested hopa- long, starting for the stairs. come back, you chump!” cried the clerk. “i don't want any shooting here. what do you care about it? let her have him, for it's an easy way out of it for you. let him think he's cut you out, for he'll spend all the more freely. get your crowd and enlighten them -it'll be better than a circus. this may sound like a steer, but it's straight.” hopalong thought for a minute and then leaned on the cigar case: “i reckon i'll take about a dozen of yore very best cigars, charley. got any real high- toned brands?" mr. ewalt draws cards “cortez panatella-two for a simoleon," charley replied. “but, seein' that it's you, i'll throw off a dollar on a dozen. they're a fool notion of the old man, for we can't sell one in a month." hopalong dug up a handful and threw one on the counter, lighting another: “yu light a cortez panatella with me," he said, pocket- ing the remainder. “that's five simoleons she didn't get. so long." he journeyed to tom lee's and found his outfit making merry. passing around his cigars he leaned against the bar and delighted in the first really good smoke he had since he came home from kansas city. johnny nelson blew a cloud of smoke at the ceiling and paused with a pleased expres- sion on his face: “this is a lalapoloosa of a cigar," he cried. v “where'd yu get it, an' how many's left?" “i got it from charley, an' there's more than yu can buy at fifty a shot." "well, i'll just take a few for luck," johnny responded, running out into the street. returning in five minutes with both hands bar " what " full of cigars he passed them around and vgrinned:“ they're birds, all right!' hopalong smiled, turned to buck and re- lated his conversation with charley. do yu think of that?” he asked as he finished. "i think charley oughter be yore guar- dian," replied the foreman. “he was," replied hopalong. “if we sees tex we'll all grin hard," laughed red, making for the door. come on to th' contests—lanky's gone already." muddy wells streamed to the carnival grounds and relieved itself of its enthusiasm and money at the booths on the way. cow- punchers rubbed elbows with indians and mexicans, and the few tourists that were present were delighted with the picturesque scene. the town was full of fakirs and be- fore one of them stood a group of cow- punchers, apparently drinking in the words of a barker. “right this way, gents, and see the woman who don't eat. lived for two years without food, gents. right this way, gents. only mr. ewalt draws cards a quarter of a dollar. get your tickets, gents, and see-" red pushed forward: “what did yu say, pard?” he asked. ~ “i'm a little off in my near ear. what's that about eatin' a woman for two years ? ” “the greatest wonder of the age, gents. the wom any discount for th' gang?" asked buck, gawking. “why don't yu quit smokin' an' buy th’ lady a meal? ” asked johnny from the center of the group “th' cane yu ring th' cane yu get!” came from the other side of the street and hopa- long purchased rings for the outfit. twenty- four rings got one cane, and it was divided between them as they wended their way to- ward the grounds. “that makes six wheels she didn't get," murmured hopalong. as they passed the snake charmer's booth they saw tex and his companion ahead of them in the crowd, and they grinned broadly. bar - “ i like th' front row in th' balcony," re- marked johnny, who had been to kansas city. don't cry in th' second act-it ain't real,” laughed red. “we'll hang john brown on a sour apple-tree—in th' pan- handle,” sang skinny as they passed them. arriving at the grounds they hunted up the registration committee and entered in the con- tests. as hopalong signed for the revolver competition he was rudely pushed aside and tex wrote his name under that of his enemy. hopalong was about to show quick resent- ment for the insult, but thought of what char- ley had said, and he grinned sympathetically. the seats were filling rapidly, and the outfit went along the ground looking for friends. a bugle sounded and a hush swept over the crowd as the announcement was made for the first event. “ broncho-busting.-red devil, never rid- den: frenchy mcallister, tin-cup, mon- tana; meteor, killed his man: skinny thomp- son, bar- , texas; vixen, never ridden: lefty allen, o-bar-o, texas." all eyes were focused on the plain where bar - skinny returned to his friends shame- facedly and did not look as if he had just won a championship. they made way for him, and johnny, who could not restrain his enthu- siasm, clapped him on the back and ried: “ yu old son-of-a-gun!” the announcer again came forward and gave out the competitors for the next contest, steer-roping and tying. lanky smith arose and, coiling his rope carefully, disappeared into the crowd. the fun was not so great in this, but when he returned to his outfit with the phenomenal time of six minutes and eight seconds for his string of ten steers, with twenty-two seconds for one of them, they gave him vociferous greeting. three of his steers had gotten up after he had leaped from his saddle to tie them, but his horse had taken care of that. his nearest rival was one min- ute over him and lanky retained the cham- pionship red connors shot with such accuracy in the rifle contest as to run his points twenty per cent higher than waffles, of the o-bar-o, and won the new rifle. bar- sible hundred, he felt that he had shot well. when hopalong went to the line his friends knew that they would now see shooting such as would be almost unbelievable, that the best draw-and-shoot marksman in their state was the man who limped slightly as he advanced and who chewed reflectively on his fifty-cent cigar. he wore two guns and he stepped with confidence before the marshal of the town, who was also judge of the contest. the tiny spherical bell which lay on the ground was small enough for the use of a rifle and could hardly be seen from the rear seats of the amphitheater. there was a word spoken by the timekeeper, and a gloved hand flashed down and up, and the bell danced and spun and leaped and rolled as shot after shot followed it with a precision and speed which brought the audience to a heavy sik e. tak- ing the gun which buck tossed t him and throwing it into the empty holster, : awaited the signal, and then smoke poure from his hips and the bell clanged continuously, once while it was in the air. both guns emptied mr. ewalt draws cards in the two-hand shooting, he wheeled and jerked loose the guns which the marshal wore, spinning around without a pause, the target hardly ceasing in its ringing. under his arms he shot, backward and between his legs; leap- ing from side to side, ducking and dodging, following the bell wherever it went. reload- ing his weapons quickly he twirled them on his fingers and enveloped himself in smoke out of which came vivid flashes as the bell gave notice that he shot well. his friends, and there were many in the crowd, torn from their affected nonchalance by shooting the like of which they had not attributed even to him, roared and shouted and danced in a frenzy of delight. red also threw his guns to hopalong, who caught them in the air and turning, faced tex, who stood white of face and completely lost in the forgetfulness of admiration and amazement. the guns spun again on his fingers and a button flew from the buckskin shirt of his enemy; another tore a flower from his breast and another drove it into the ground at his feet as others stirred mr. ewalt draws cards boasted. now he understood why he had lost so many friends: they had attempted what he had sworn to attempt. look where he would he could see only a smoke-wrapped demon who moved and shot with a speed in- credible. there was reason why slim had died. there was reason why porous and silent had paled when they learned of their mission. he hated his conspicuous clothes and his pretty broncho, and the woman who had gotten him to squander his money, and who was doubtless convulsed with laughter at his expense. he worked himself into a passion which knew no fear and he ran for the streets of the town, there to make good his boast or to die. when he found his enemy he felt himself grasped with a grip of steel and buck peters swung him around and grinned maliciously in his face: “yu plaything!” hoarsely whispered the foreman. “why don't yu get away while yu can? why do yu want to throw yoreself against certain death? i don't want my pleas- ure marred by a murder, an' that is what it will be if yu makes a gun-play at hopalong. . bar - he'll shoot yu as he did yore buttons. take yore pretty clothes an' yore pretty cayuse an' go where this is not known, an' if ever again yu feels like killing hopalong, get drunk an' forget it.” the end hopalong takes command (see page ) frontispiece 注 ​ “calmly blew several heavy smoke rings around the frowning barrel” .بر . - غراس ! m ОВ Б/ . ;; 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[ saturday, april , §m€ = (i) ' e u i mecx egand‘ author oi " 'l'he untamed," " thltlren oi the nvight,” “ trailin’,” etc. not since max brand took the reading public by storm withhis tremendous success, “ the untamed,” has a character appeared in these pages like w hist- ling dan. in the person of clung. the hero of his new novel, mr. brand has created for us another bathing but fascinating character who seems to disprove the universally accepted truism “ east is east and west is west.” by blood a white man and by training a chinaman. he seems to combine the subtlety of an oriental with the dexterity of an occidental. he is by all odds at new type in fiction, and his character and career will furnish you with no end of speculation. enter c lung. chapter i. _ the making of clung. he lord having made clung and placed him where he did, the rest followed by the inevitable law of sequence. nobody understood this, clung least of all. the whites said he was “ just a plain, no-good chink, growing up for a rope neck- lace”; the chinese said he was possessed of a devil. clung probably thought that both parties were right. he never said so, but then clung was not given to words. the whites would probably have lynched the “boy save 'for two things: first, clung confined his _ attentions to the “ greasers ”; second, every one had a warm spot in his heart for old li clung, the boy’s father, who ran the laundry in that arizona town. in the southwest they will tell you that when a chinaman is good he’s not too good to bear watching, and when a china- man is bad—well, he’s awful. clung was bad. he killed men. everybody knew his record, or at least a part of it, but for the sake of old li, they postponed the in- evitable hanging. nevertheless, if clung had been built in a different way, or had lived in a different place— the lot of a weakly man in the south- west is peculiarly unfortunate. there is no place for him; people wonder why he exists. he’s a public incumbrance—an eye- , sore.' clung was weakly. for a china- man he was tall; among whites he was of middle height; but he was exceedingly frail. his hands were like the hands of a woman, small and almost transparent. his wrist was so slenderly made that if a a-s all - story weekly. strong man had grasped him there. the bones would have crunched together. obviously, he was a half-breed of some sort—perhaps his mother was spanish. though old li would never speak of that. she must have been white; otherwise there was no accounting for the fine, pale com- plexion of clung. his eyes, too, were not slanted, but wide, gentle, brown. his hair was black and as smooth as silk. being weakly, clung was early forced to find something which would take the place of physical strength, because without pro tection of some sort he was sure to perish early. for this was the southwest, and the border was in continual need of taming. clung had not far to look before he found out what he must do. he became expert in the use of weapons. knife work, of course, comes by second nature to an orien- tal, but clung’s accomplishments were as- tonishingly varied for one of his blood. nothing is ever really mastered unless it is commenced in childhood. a man must begin to learn acrobatics before he’s ten. the same thing is true of language study. arithmetic, et cetcra. it is also true of guns. clung began using revolvers when he was hardly more than an infant. his father, old li, pampered the boy; he used to show off his accomplishments to his white patrons. when he was eight years old clung had a little twenty-two rifle. and he practised with the weapons continually. li paid the bills and clung banged off countless rounds of ammunition. the cow- punchers showed him many ways of car- rying a gun and how to pull it, and whirl it, and shoot with a quick'turn. of course he could never have been great with a gun if he had not had the instinct for it; any one in the southwest will tell you that. a man may practise all his life, but unless he has an instinct for shooting quick and sure, he will never be a startling success near the border. those early times were golden days for clung. the'whites teased him and talked with him; old li adored him. little clung, when he was not playing with his knives or his guns, sat cross-legged on a table near the front'door of the laundry and kept his blank, brown eyes fixed on the passers-by, and smiled the faint, faint smile of the orient. he always wore his pigtail twisted in a funny knot on top of his head, and li kept it tied at the end with a ribbon of black silk. when he turned his head, with one of his catlike motions, the ribbon fiounced foolishly from side to sidev then the golden days ended. clung had grown up; he possessed his full portion of slender, erect height; the cow-punchers were beginning to ask him when he would open a laundry of his own. and clung, in place of answering, would wave those fragile hands unmeant for work, and smile the faint smile of the orient. then on a day a stranger came to town and entered the laundry. he was a mexi- can of much importance; he had two fol- lowers in the street on horseback. the mexican did not know clung. how should he? neither did he know that after the midday meal clung loved to sit in the sun on the little table near the door, with his legs folded catwise under him, and sleep, and smile into the sun while he slept. also, clung did not like to be roused from that afterdinner siesta. of all of this, however, the mexican was ignorant. he came in with the sun flashing on his silver braid and startedto ask clung a question. it was not answered, so he snapped clung on the end of the nose with his riding- quirt. it must have hurt exceedingly, but clung merely opened slowly those wide, brown, gentle eyes and his smile never al- tered. he looked beyond the mexican and into a thousand years of space. it angered the mexican to see that impassive face. he reached out to grip clung by the shoul- der and shake him into complete wakeful- ness. then it happened. ' before that hand touched the chinaman’s shoulder a knife appeared from under the silken tunic of clung, and the knife-blade passed in and out of the palm of the mexi- can’s hand. there is no place on the body more sensitive than the palm of the hand. perhaps that’s why schoolmistreses whip refractory children there. strong men have been known to weep when hurt in the palm of the hand. the mexican screamed with pain, leaped back, and drew his revolver with his uninjured hand. clung. there was a white man in the laundry at the moment, and he swore in court after- ward that the gun of the mexican was out of the holster before clung made a move. then a gun appeared, as if conjured out of thin air, and the mexican dropped in a heap with a bullet fairly between the eyes. his followers started shooting from the road; clung killed them neatly and with despatch; a bullet through the head of each. and he remained sitting on his table by the door. the marshal found him there, smiling into the sun. the judge cautioned him, declared it self-defense, and dismissed the case. chapter ii. spring srcxmzss. n the southwest any man, even a china- man, can be excused for one shooting- match, provided that the other party is 'mexican; but a second affair causes people to frown, and a third is almost sure to bring down the heavy hand of the law. now, within a week clung killed his fourth man; within ten days he had killed his fifth. always he was apprehended sitting cross- legged on the little table at the door of the laundry, drowsing after dinner; always his excuses were allowable; always the mexi- cans were the aggrgsors. they were aven- gers come to wipe out the blood-debt. they waylaid clung and fell upon him at weird times and in strange places, and they were killed suddenly, neatly, with bullets through the head. this caused his markmanship to be more admired than ever, but the cow-punchers ceased to linger at the table of clung and he was no longer asked to show his skill with the guns shooting at fantastic targets. this caused clung to wonder. finally he went to li with one of his rare questions, but li merely raised his caloused hands to the witnessing gods and shook his head. the silent feud went on. the greasers had marked clung and now and again they came in parties, or one at a time, heated with mescal and eager to win a great name. they departed again the worse for wear, and clung still sat cross-legged on the little _returned with a little victrola. table near the laundry door. this con- tinued; men began to refer to clung as a u bad .}! in the end it was sure to result in tragedy to some one more important than a mexi- can, but the fatal day delayed. li grew older, more withered, more like a yellow mask of grinning comedy; clung continued to bask in the sun. and so it came to a spring day when the air was cool and a little crisp and gently fanned the cheek of clung where he sat on the table. deliberater he uncurled his slender legs and asked money of li, and received it, for the old chinaman had for- gotten how to refuse. clung went out and it played with a wheeze and a rattle, but, neverthe- less, it kept a rhythm. clung brought in a half-breed indian girl and in the evenings he learned to dance. he practised diligently, silently, for hours' and hours, until the half-breed would drop to a chair, exhausted. having mastered the steps, he wound his pigtail in the most ob- scure of knots and put on store clothes—- the clothes of the whites—and rode many miles to a country dance. 'now, as any one from the southwest will tell you, this was very rashly done. and any chinaman other than c lung would un- doubtedly have been horsewhipped within an inch of his life and given warning to leave the country for fear of worse things. men were loath to touch clung, however. they would as soon have put hands on a rattler, coiled to strike. it seemed that tragedy would be averted again from the path of clung and the day of reckoning postponed, for it chanced that there was in the crowd a marshal exceeding- ly wise in the ways of the border. he came to clung and spoke softly—with his hand on the butt of his gun. he explained that chinese were not welcome at dances of whites. the dreamy smile returned to the lips of clung. he tried to shove his hands into the alternate sleeves, but was prevented by the unaccustomed cuffs of the white man. he stared about the hall until he saw a girl laughing at him. she had pale-yel- low hair and the light burned like a fire all - story weekly. in it, and her throat was white, and the bosom that curved out below it was as keen as snow. clung turned very pale; he was whiter than the whitest man in that room. he managed to wriggle his fingers into the alternate cuffs; he bowed to the marshal, and turned on his heel. according to all rules of man and the un- written laws of the southwest, the thing should have ended there, but where the laws of the southwest leave off, john bar- leycorn often begins. he stepped in here in the person of josiah boyce. now, josiah wore guns because every one else wore them, but he had never been known to use them, even on a rabbit. he probably wouldn’t have known what to do with them if they had been naked and loaded in his hands. ordinarily, josiah was a sleepy fellow who sat in corners twist- ing his long mustaches and looking out upon the world from beneath shaggy brows with moist, pathetic eyes. but when he had a few drinks of whisky, josiah became a noisy nuisance. he was always either extremely confidential, going about and assuring every one that they knew him and that he was their friend; or else he waxed boisterous and insisted on telling gray-bearded jests. he was in his boisterous mood this .night. unfortu- nately he forgot for a single second about the record of clung. the moment the marshal turned his back on the half-breed chinaman, josiah rushed up, clapped‘his hand on the shoulder of clung, and whirled him around as if he were a top. he started to bellow out that the damned chink ought to be horsewhipped, and that if no one else would do it, he’d take the job on his own hands. every one laughed, except the marshal, who started on the run. clung was smiling, and the marshal had seen that smile before. what clung really saw was not josiah at all, but the convulxd mirth of the girl with the yellow hair. the laughter, appar- ently, thrilled josiah with joy. he saw himself at last in the role of a successful entertainer, and grasped clung by his pig- tail, preparatory to dragging him out of the hall. the marshal was only a step away when this happened—only a step away- -one step- too late. he arrived just in time to receive the toppling body of what had been josiah boyce in his arms. clung vanished through the door. they started a half-hearted pursuit, but clung rode one of the best horses in arizona and his weight was so light that the marshal knew he had no chance of wearing down the fugitive. he called off the chase and went back to the town to have clung outlawed. in the mean time clung cut back by a sharp detour and went to the house of his father. li sat on a cushion on the floor with a taper-light rising high on either side of him. across his knees a large volume was opened; he wore on his head a little black silk cap with a crimson tassel. clung closed the door softly behind him and stood very conscious of his store clothes—respectfully waiting. when li finally looked up, it was with a slow glance, starting at the boots of clung, and the further the glance traveled up the person of clung, the paler li became, until he looked like parchment which has first been yellowed with age and then bleached ' in the sun. then he got up without a word and went to a little safe at the side of the room. he opened it and took out a bag of money—a canvas bag plumply filled. “it is all i have, my son,“ said li. “ go! " , clung took it in his hand, weighed it, and slipped it into his pocket. he seemed very excited, and his nostrils were quiver- ing, so that he was not a pleasant sight to see. “ i have killed a white man,“ he said. “ it is true,” nodded li. they talked much better english than the whites around them, and li, for some reason, would never speak their native tongue with his son. “father,” said clung, “i am not well about—the stomach." the old chinaman ran to him swiftly, making a little sound of dole. a sort of gut- tural whine. “ no,” said clung, “ they have not hurt me, except here." clung. ' and be pressed both slender hands against his breast. ‘ he said: “ i have seen a white woman and i am hungry with a hunger that food will not fill up; and i am weak and sick here.” old li cried out in chinese, a harsh wail. “ mix herbs for me,” said clung rapidly. “ make me strong before i leave, for i have far to go. these men will never leave my trail.” “oh, my son!” moaned li. “ there is no drink of herbs that will help you. no water will put out the fire of woman; it will burn you to ashes; it will make you hollow.” ‘ you,” said clung in his soft voice, “ are not like me. no woman could make ou burn or make you hollow. why a i different?” “ your mother was white,” said li. “i am neither white nor yellow,” said clung. “ father, i am damned two ways. i go.” ' he stood stiff against the door, one hand raised high over his head; old li stiffened in the same manner. then clung tamed and caught the knob of the door. he swung it open and then closed it again. he turned on li. “your eyes have told me one thing and your tongue another,” he said. “which lie shall i hold to, father?” one does not need to live in the south- west to know that the last crime of a c hina~ man is to turn against his father. li grew green with horror; he could not speak. “it is true,” said clung, smiling his own faint smile. “ you have lied to me. now tell me the truth.” chapter iii. clung asks a blessing. “ u have doubted your father twice," ' said li. “ for each doubt you shall be tortured a hundred years here- after.” “ and for the third doubt,” said clung, “ i shall be tortured terribly for a thousand years. i doubt you again. why am i different?” - “ it was the will of god that made you unlike your father. you are all your mother.” ' “' it is true,” said clung. “ you have been good to me, but if i were like you, father, i would take this knife, so!—and cut my throat wide and die. as it is, i grip my knife, sol—and take you by the throat, sol—and hold this blade at your breast, so!—and say: ‘ the truth—tell me the truth!’ ” old li was a brave man, as many a riotous cow-puncher had learned in his time, but now a tremor like the palsy of old age struck him. he stared fascinated up to the changed face of clung. “' a ghost!” he whispered. “ of whom?” “ of your father.” the knife glimmered, twisting slowly in the hands of clung. “ devil!” he said. father?” “ a white man—an american," said li, “and your mother white also. “ but,” said li softly, “ you are my son! see? the knife trembles in your hand—- you are shaking with hunger to strike— but you cannot—you are my son.” “ i,” said clung slowly, “ am white?” he stepped back; he uncoiled his pig- tail with a single movement, held the hair taut, and severed the sinuous, snaky length with a single slash of the knife. the black hair, springing back, fell wildly about his face. “why?” said clung. “a man wronged me,” said li. “ his wife died, leaving a child. i stole the baby, i made him my son.” “ who?” said clung. “ he is dead; she is dead.” “and i am living,” said clung. “ as my son. will the white men believe you are white? will the yellow men believe you are yellow? no, you are nothing but my son. in your mind you may know that you are the son of whites; in your heart you know that you are my son. it is done; it is perfect.” “ you are not afraid?” asked clung. “ shall a father fear his son?” “yellow devil!” “ who was my all - story weekly. he did not mind the loneliness-all his life he had had it, and it might be said that he was educated for the part of a lone rider of the mountain-desert. only one vision returned to disturb him both by day and by night, and this was the picture of the girl with the pale-yellow hair, laughing some- times, sometimes merely smiling; but al- ways with an air of mockery, as if she had something to confide in him if he could only reach her and listen. it was-because of this troubling vision, perhaps, that he started riding one day before the dusk had set in. his goal was nameless; activity was his only end, until. in the slant light of the late sun, he caught a flash of color. he swung the gray to the left and raced for two miles up a gully; then he dismounted and crept to the top of the ridge and sheltered himself behind a bush. in due time the color reappeared—bright blue, with a splash of yellow, developing into a girl riding at a dog-trot. the blue was the color of her waist, and the yellow was the straw of her hat. she passed close, but not close enough for 'clung to see her face. he followed her with his eyes until she had passed out of view, around a winding of the trail; the moment the sun .winked for the last time on the bright yellow of her hat, something went out in clung. it was as if a light had been shining in him and, being puffed out, he was suddenly left all dark and cold inside. ‘ he went back to the gully, swung into the saddle, and pursued the blue-and-yellow vision, keeping always just out of her sight, lurking, and trailing her like a dangerous shadow until she came to the largest ranch- house that clung had ever seen. it was rather more like some fine old colonial house in the south, and around it, on every side, stretched a deep veranda, with a roof supported by white pillars. there were evidently artesian wells near the house, for green things grew around it—a stretch of lawn—a hedge of some unfamiliar plant—a number of spreading palms whose fringed limbs brushed together, like whispers in the wind of the evening. the barn behind the house was almost as large as the residence itself, and-up to this the girl rode, dismounted, tossed the. reins to a man who came from the barn door, and ran into the house carrying a small parcel. all this clung witnessed from behind the brow of a hill, squinting his eyes to pierce the distance and the uncertain light of the evening when she disappeared into the house the darkness rushed trebly deep upon clung. he was literally besieged with waves of shadow, and now that the lights were beginning to glimmer through the windows of the big house it seemed to him that all the brightness and the hap- piness in the world was bounded there by the four walls. truly, he was marvelously lonely. he left his horse again, waited until the darkness formed a sufficient screen, and then approached the house, soft as one of those oncoming shadows of the night. it was completely dark, now, and he sat comfor- tably on the moist, cool sod under a palm, only a few yards from the front of the veranda. a servant appeared—a chinaman—and clung smiled to himself, tilting back his head with half-closed eyes; the yellow race were servants in this land—-l)ut he was one of the white brothers. there is no warmth like that of self-content. it stole over clung, now, like a man from the arctics warming himself before a pleasant fire and caressing objects of comfort with his eyes. the servant lighted square-framed japan- ese lanterns; at once the veranda grew bright with the soft flames—the space be— tween the white columns was illumined as an expression of happiness lightens the human face. now the chinaman went to the edge of the steps, screened his eyes. and peered out into the night. his face was withered and yellow as old ivory; a mighty thankfulness flooded through clung that he was not as one of these. the servant turned, his pigtail flopping awkwardly, and now the door clicked shut after him—the screen door banged. the doors opened again almost at once, held wide by a little old man in black clothes with a white vest, crossed by a gold- en chain. he was stooped from work at a desk, and age had bared his head as religion bares the head of a monk. against the clung. redness of that bald head the circle of sil- ver hair made pleasant contrast. as he held the doors he was smiling and speaking back toward the hall within, which lay just out of range of clung’s vision. next came an invalid-chair wheeled by the girl he had seen riding. her clothes were now filmy-white, to be sure, and un_ til this moment he had never seen her face; nevertheless, he knew that it was she. he closed his eyes. he felt that he could tell her presence as one tells the species of a flower in the night-by its peculiar fragrance. clung had the oriental love of perfumes. he could construct the history of his life out of the smells he had known. the peculiar, steamy aroma of the ironing-room in the laundry, to be sure, was the back- ground out of which all else grew, but against that background other things were trebly precious. old li had some rare silks from china and there hung about them a faint lilac fragrance which had clothed clung’s boyhood as with an atmos— phere of poesy. he had loved to handle those silks, and guess what other bands had touched them. . then there was the garden of marshal clauson. flowers were to clung what wine is to others. there came a time in spring when among :the dark-green of growing things in 'the marshal’s garden, there ap- peared sudden shoots of yellower tinge, and from these, all in a day, came little points of color, as if spring were peeping out at _' the world- and preparing to surprise it with a sudden tide of splendor. such a tide burst forth every year in one day. after that clung loved to walk past the garden of the marshal in the night, slowly, inch by inch, breathing deeply—his head back and his eyes half closed—distinguishing the various scents and naming each unseen flower in the dark. he thought of this when the girl came out on the veranda, wheeling the invalid. he hardly knew whether she were beautiful or ugly, young or old; he merely wished suddenly to be close enough to have the wind blow a fragrance from her to him. he sat there on his heels in a sort of happy expectation until this thing should be. it was a rather sad emotion, also. it reminded him of centain paintings of flowers upon silk—chinese work which old li also owned and brought forth on state occa- sions. clung had loved those paintings, but they always made him sad. there were other flowers, to be sure, which he could have and enjoy, but these peculiar beautiful ones which the artist had painted, they must have been dust a thousand years before. it was the same with the girl. she entered his life with the scents of the flowers of other years and with the beauty of the painted flowers on .their graceful stems; she was apart from him, unpossessed, un- possessablewanother age and another world. he wondered that the two men did not sit before her as he would have done——with his head tilting back and his eyes half closed, drinking in her presence. this thought made him lower his head with a frown and look more closely upon the two fortunate ones who sat so close to her» see! they could reach out their hands and touch her, if they wished! chapter v. the consr: f ugliness. his rapturous possibility, strangely enough, left them quite unmoved. they were as irnpassive as li discuss- ing with a customer the prospects of col- lecting an old bill. age in the one and sick- ness in the other doubtless explained it. the old man had tilted back in his chair and lighted a cigar; now he was turning the cigar slowly in his lips with one hand and insulting the night with drifting clouds of stench. they reached to clung and made him curl his upper lip in that smile of which marshal clauson so strongly dis- approved. contempt unutterable filled the soul of clung, and hatred for one who could so violate the sweetness of the night air. he turned his disgusted stare on the invalid. prepared to be displeased. his fullest ex- pectations were surpassed. the man was large, a gross and heavy largeness. his shoulders quite filled the 'all- story weekly, chair from side to side, and even though he were wasted away, clung knew what bur- den those large bones must be; he could almost feel the weight pressing on the cane bottom of the chair. even in the distance c lung could accurately measure the size of the man’s hand on the cane arm of the chair—it was fearfully wasted—it had strength left only to meet the grip of death ~~but still it was appallingly vast: the knuckles thrust out as if they would break the skin. such a hand, filled out with muscle, could have crushed the bones in the fingers of clung. indeed, as he stared he felt a pain run- ning up to his elbow. disease had made the sufferer ugly. his eyes were sunken, his neck was a gruesome thing of cords and sinews which stood out and left long, stringy hollows when he turned his head, and about those mighty, wasted shoulders the faint wind shook the clothes. it was at once apparent that the fellow had not even the strength to raise himself and sit up in the chair, but what energy remained to him he consumed in endless shifting about. no position pleased him long. he kept shrugging his shoulders, moving his feet, clasping and unclasping his hands, twisting his head suddenly. his lips were never still. now he attempted to whistle, now he scowled, now he talked— the complaining tone drifted across to clung. since it was apparent to all eyes that the man was to die, why did he not bear fate with inscrutable countenance, smiling most when pain wrung his vitals? clung remembered when a devil entered the body of his uncle, chu wee, and sat in chu’s stomach. it took chu wee six months to die, but all the time he sat irnpassive, smil- ing, amiable; when he was well he had been a snarling demon. truly the way of the yellow man in meeting death was much more beautiful than the way of the white. clung was very glad of his double in- heritance; he would take the best from the yellow and the best from the white. the old man on one side of the invalid, and the girl on the other, were very pa- tient. she, in especial, continually rose to shift the pillows behind his shoulders and rearrange the robe which covered his men mous lank legs. the sick man coughed violently, and made a furious gesture to- ward the old man, who at once threw away his cigar, but he did it with an ill grace which clung could very easily see. he caught their voices now. the invalid had stretched out a hand to the other. “ mr. sampson,” he said, “ i’m a terrible weakling—but that whiff of smoke just then—it nearly strangled me! " “ beast!” thought clung. “ why did he not strangle and say nothing?” “ h-m!” said the other. “ it’s all right, will. i’m—i’m really through smoking, for a while.” “ and you, my dear! ” said the sick man, turning to the girl. she reached out with a smile and took his hand between both of hers. at that the world reeled before the eyes of clung. it was plain: it was written clear; she was the man’s woman! he forced his eyes open again and looked with his own faint smile. “you ought to be out in the world of action and pleasant things,” said the man. his voice was bass, but sickness had raised it into a nasal key. “ but i keep you down here in my little hell, burdening you with my own small misery. good heavens, winifred, sometimes i hate myself. i wish to god i could die now and get the thing over with.” “my dear!” she cried. so beautiful a thing must have such a voice. it was not high, and yet its quality was? light, and ‘there was a vibrant quality about it—a. tone that pierced like the muted g-string of a violin. now the man laughed, harsh- ly and briefly. “but sometimes i’m sure,” .he said, “that you never would have told me you loved me if i had not been so sick.” “will,” said the old man, “sometimes you’re just a plain damned fool! excuse me, winifred;- i’m going inside." he got up and stamped into the house. it was all very disgusting to clung. he thought of the girl as of a rare blossom which grows out of a foul soil. “ i wouldn’t say it like that,” murmured the girl, “ but you are foolish to think i don’t love you, dear.” i clung. ii “ i don’t doubt it," said the sick man, “but you never showed much liking for me while i was on my feet. when i got down and out you discovered—well, wini- fred, to put it frankly, you discovered a place where you could be of service, and you took the place.” “ hush!” she said, and laid a white fin- ger across his lips. the man kissed that finger and then rolled up his eyes to her with a ghastly smile. clung shuddered; it was as if she had touched flesh white with leprosy; it was as if he had stood idly by and watched a holy thing polluted, and now his lithe, slender fingers coiled about the hilt of his knife. even at that dis- tance he could have thrown it accurately. he could have struck the colorless gash of the man’s mouth; better still, he could have buried the blade in the hollow of the gaunt throat. she spoke again, and, lost in the pleasure it gave him of hearing her voice, his nerveless fingers uncoiled and fell away. “ surely i have proved how dear you are to me, will?” “ don’t think i complain,” he said. " i thank god that i can have even the sight of you for a moment. it’s a thing to just about die for—as i’m doing!" “ no, no! you are much better to-day. in another month, when the warmer, drier weather begins—” he cut her short with a rude gesture of impatience. “ don’t argue with me, winifred. don’t pull the wool over my eyes. i know i’m weaker every day; i’ve given up hope; i know i’m going to die; i know i’m never going to live to make you my wife. die! and at my age, with all the world before me. i feel—oh, god!——sormetimes i feel as if i were already buried alive; and every- thing beautiful fills me with horror be- cause i have to give it up—winifred—even you!” the wan, bony, shaking hands twitched up and covered his face; he wept loudly, catching his breath between sobs with a groan. every sound cut clung to the heart with horror and rage; he whipped out the knife and poised it—but the girl had leaned close and gathered the weeper to her, pil- lowing his face against her shoulder and her breast. \ her head was raised, and clung saw her smile of ineffable pity and tenderness. it shone out to him like a light that pierced him to the soul and withered the strength from his nervous arm. once more the knife dropped idly to the ground. it was then that clung knew he must be near her~< even if she were the defiled thing of another man. he knew it and confessed it to himself with an infinite bitterness of heart; that was the white man’s blood speaking in him; if he had been as he was a month before he could have turned away and shut her out of his thoughts as easily and as swiftly as he turned his back; but as he was, the gods of the white man claimed him. then it came to him as plainly as if a door had opened and he had seen another room: the man was sick, but chiefly sick in his mind. he was sure of his death, and therefore he was sure to die. clung went back to his horse and rode straight for the house, the hoofs clattering loudly on the beaten path. he pulled to a halt and whipped from the saddle to the ground. there he stood with his hat off, staring blankly at the couple on the porch. the girl rose and shaded her eyes to peer into the dark and make out his form. he suppressed a smile. she would have to look harder and longer than that to make him out, or see him even in the broadest daylight. he said: “i am riding north; it is night. may i sleep here?" he spoke slowly, as always, with a little pause between words. it gave the effect of a man of much culture who chooses his words and is proud of his choice, and, in- deed, to clung, words were not light things. they were not unlike arrows loosed from the string, as he remembered from one of his few books—they could not be recalled; whereas a bullet may miss or a knife fail to strike home, the spoken word never fails to reach the heart. the sick man scowled at him, his upper lip lifting loosely; it was very ugly. but the girl smiled and beckoned toward the r. doo “awaits!” ‘ itunms name. 'all- story weekly. “ you are very welcome,” she said. “i thank you,” said clung, and led his horse around the house toward the barn. chapter vi. the bringer f sleep. fter he had pulled up his horse he entered the house by the back door which opened on the kitchen. there were two chinese servants there, working at the cleaning of dishes and the pans. they hushed their shrill chatter at his com- ing, and he stood a moment staring idly at them, enjoying the silence with which the yellow man acknowledges the presence of the white, a silence crammed with mean- ings, all of which clung knew. then he went on and passed an open door beyond which sat the old man in an air blue with smoke, reading. there were around him, lining the walls, more books than clung had dreamed were in the world. the old man glanced up at him over his spectacles, wrinkling his forehead in a quizzical frown. clung stood in the door- way, straight and slim, and hat in hand. “ i am john ring,” he said in his somber way. “the lady on the veranda said i might stay in this house till the morning.” the other opened his lips to speak, but clung had bowed like an automaton and gone on toward the front of the house. he passed across floors as smooth as glass and glimmering under the lights; he passed through rooms wide and lofty where one might breathe more freely than in most rooms; he passed through and sensed a somberness of color—chiefly browns. he sensed also a pleasant order as of a place where many served and few were masters. the air of this place was choice as incense. he began to wish that he were clothed as he had once seen a traveling man who passed through mortimer—in white trou- sers, sharply pressed, graceful, cool, always hanging straight; and in a. thin white shirt with a white collar and a necktie of bright colors pinned down with a golden pin. in the midst of these wishes he came to the front veranda, noiselesst opened the door, and stood beside the couple. they sat silent, the man' moving cease- lessly, the woman staring out into the night, and clung imagined himself sitting once more under the shadow of that tall, dark palm, watching another self step boldly out on the porch, boldly into the presence of the woman, into her fragrance, stealing the breath of it from the man who was its rightful owner. he was wronging the man: therefore he hated him. it was the girl who looked up first and saw him. he was conscious of her eyes on his riding-boots, her eyes on his belt, her eyes on his tan shirt, her eyes on the bright bandanna around his throat, her eyes on the hollows of his lean face, her eyes, last of all, shocking against his glance—a perceptible thing like a stone dropped into an unplumbed depth of water. “my name," said clung, “ is john ring.” ‘* i am winifred sampson,” answered the girl, “ and this is william kirk.” in china one bows in acknowledging an introduction; on fifth avenue one bows in the same way, though not quite so low and not quite so gracefully. the girl stared at clung. “ will you sit down?” she asked. the chair was the one which the old man had sat in; it faced the girl, but it was near the horror~the sick man. “i have ridden all day,” said clung; “' i like to stand.” so saying, he stepped back just a trifle toward the wall of the house so that all the breeze that blew passed across the girl and then to him. he caught the fragrance then —nothing he could name, but a fact which he would be able to recognize thereafter. the other two had forgotten him, and he was glad, for as the silence deepened, his mind, his will began to reach out, past the invalid chair, and toward the girl. he looked fixedly at her; she glanced up; he stared blankly off into the night. it was nothing, an accident, perhaps, but to clung a proof of power. the sick man kept shift- ing and muttering. at length he cried out, throwing his shaking hands before him: “winifred, why can’t i sleep? can’t i even sleep and forget?” 'all - story weekly. ‘" it was a beautiful picture," said clung, “ even if it lasted for only one night, for you." “ for me?” she answered, whispering. “ for you,” said clung. “as for me, i never forget." she knew a thousand men who might have said some such trifling thing, but the solemnity of this stranger stopped the smile even as it began on her lips. he did not seem to say it to flatter her. he was an- nouncing an impersonal truth. she had happened to make part of a charming pic- ture which john ring arranged; that was all. now that the morning had come she was no more to him than a design on the wall—a picture in a frame—a painted thing. she could not help a little twinge of irritation. “ was he peaceful all night?” she asked coldly. . “ he moved a little,” said clung. “when the sun came up he sighed. that was all. he will sleep now until noon. you may go; he no longer needs you.” “i know him better,” she said—for it seemed as if this_was a calm negation of all the effects of her patient nursing. “ even when he’s asleep he knows whether or not i’m near.” “that,” said clung, “ was when he was very weak. it is different now. he is stronger. he does not need you.” “ it is not true!” said the girl angrily. “try,” said clung. she frowned at him, and then moved to- ward the door, her glance behind her, will- ing with all her might that the sick man should stir and moan at her departure. but he did not move; she reached the door and glanced at clung. he stood, as she had known he would stand, with his head back, his eyes half closed, his lips smiling faintly. she stamped, but lightly, for fear of waking the sleeper. “i could hate you!” whispered the girl, and was gone. it startledgclung out of his dream, and he stared blankly after her. but finally he shrugged the thought away and began to pick up the flowers which she had shaken to the floor. it had been a beautiful pic- ture, all that night. he examined tenderly the petals of the blossoms; they were al- ready fading, and here and there they were darkly bruised. chapter \‘iii. the open noon. n the fifth day thereafter, william kirk wu strong enough to dress himself ; on the tenth day he stood up and walked about; at the end of two weeks he climbed into a saddle and rode about the place at a soft‘trot; the next day he told winifred that the time was come for them to marry and go north again into the world of business. it was a drowsy, late afternoon, and they sat on the veranda, dressed in cool white, watching the idle brushing of the palm branches across the sky—a blue-white sky which would soon be taking on colors, for the sun was dropping rapidly toward the western horizon and already the shad- ows were growing darker and deeper among the hills, covering the speckled growth of mesquite. “ besides,“ concluded kirk, “ i’m on my feet completely and ready for harness; your father is getting nervous—everything is set for us to call in the minister and jog back north.” “ why,” said the girl, “ you’re not near- iy your old self, will!” “near enough to marry you, dear.” he answered, “ and get back to some man— sized work. i‘m sick of this dreamy life, sitting about, chattering, twirling my fingers. not cut out for that sort of thing. can’t do it decoratively the way ring can.” “ where is ring now?” asked the girl. “where he always is during the bright part of the day—inside sitting in a dark corner, looking at pictures in some old fool book. but that isn’t answering me, winifred.” she said gravely: “i’ll tell you frank— ly, will, that i don’t feel like answering to-day. i’m tired—somehow.” “ confound it!” he said with some heat. “ you‘ve been this way ever since ring appeared!” clung. she answered without smiling: “ now, that’s the silliest thing you’ve said for a long time, isn’t it?” “ it is foolish,” he admitted, “ but that chap—confound it!——i know he’s not one of us—i know i owe him a lot—” “ everything- ’ she said coolly. “ everything, i suppose, but at the same time he makes me uneasy. by the way, who the devil is he, where does he come from, where is he going? do you know?” (l yes-h “ the deuce you do! let’s have it!” “ i’ll tell you just what he told me. he came from there "—she waved a hand toward half the points of the compass to- ward the south—“ he is going there ”——she waved the other hand at the other points of the compass toward the north—“ and he is just a man.” “sounds like ring, all right. knew the fellow to answer a question the way any other man would. personally i have very grave doubts about him.” “ what sort of doubts, will?” “but let’s get back to the important thing: winifred, i wish awfully that you’d shake off your weariness and tell me i can bring out a minister_ and have the thing finished up.” “somehow,” she answered, “i like to have it kept in suspense for a while.” “but we can’t go on drifting like this -—besides, my business will go smash if i don’t get back into the harness.” “i think the drifting,” she said, “is rather pleasant—jock, now! the white goes out of the sky—the darker blue begins—— the sun will be golden in a moment and begin to bulge out at the sides like a child puffing out his cheeks. it’s nice to sit here —and not talk—and not think—in the warmthk’,’ “ that,” he said angrily, “ is a transcript from ring!” “ i suppose it is.” this startled him erect in his chair. “winifred,” he said, “ i don’t want to make a complete ass of myself, but i’d like to know just what you think of ring.” “ ask him,” she said. “he can tell you better than i can.” and she waved a lazy hand toward the i never open door. the man considered her with a serious frown. he set his teeth over something which would have been rashly said. “are you trying to irritate me, wini- fred?” “ you know i’m not, dear.” “ there you go again! there isn’t the slightest emotion in your voice—you talk exactly the way ring talks—damn itl—i beg your pardon, winifred!” “don’t; but go ahead. tell me how ring talks. i like to hear about him.” “ you ought to know how he talks; he’s with you enoug .” “altogether,” she said thoughtfully, “i think he’s averaged about twenty words a day since he came. most of the time he simply sits and looks.” “ i know. he looks as if he were lis- tening to you talk hard and fast when you’re saying nothing at all. confound him; he worries me. i’ll be frank. i wish you’d tell me exactly how you feel about him.” “ i don’t mind in the least.” she leaned back in the chair, half closing her eyes, and smiling. kirk swore softly, for it was ring’s expression made delicate- ly beautiful on her face. “i think i know,” he murmured, “but go ahea .” _ she said: “ most of us live rather ugly lives, don’twe, will? we’re pretty much discontented with to-day, we despise yes- terday, and we only drag ourselves along through a hope of what a brave to-morrow may bring. that’s the way it has been with me, at least, and i’m sure that’s the way it is with most f the people i know. do you agree?” i “ yes, i suppose life is pretty rotten if you take it cold bloodedly like this. but this isn’t an age bf romance, winifred. people are looking for action—and they’re finding i .” “they are. my life has been filled by people who are leading lives of action; \i really began to think them the only people in the world who amount to anything. i was like a person going down a straight and narrow corridor with monotonous walls on either side and no prospect except the same a-s all - story weekly. dull passage to the end, and then—dark- ness. now suppose a door suddenly opens on the side of that corridor and i pass through the door to find a world of won- derful beauty—flowers, rare perfumes, a garden filled with exquisite things perfectly arranged. that is what ring did for me“)? i “' as much as that—are you serious, winifred?” she went on as though she had not heard him: “ he taught me how to enjoy living for its own sake—taught me how to revel in it every day as it comes. he is still teach- ing, and i—well, he’ll be out here in a moment, and then you'll see. he always comes when the color of the evening starts. before that he has no interest in the day.” kirk stood up. he seemedv very large, outlined against the growing color of the west. those strong hands, too, were fill— ing out, hands that could have crushed the slender wrists of clung with a single pres- sure. “you’re quite sure of all this, wini- fred?” he asked tensely. “ what is there to be tragic about?" - “ don’t you see that if you feel that way about him there is no room for me?” “ but i feel for you in such a different way. —” _ “how much do you feel?“ she frowned at the floor. - “will,” she said, “if you really care very. much, don’t press me for an answer just now.” “then you’ve really changed, wini- fred?” “ please don’t ask me. whirling just now, will.” “ i was right about it. you cared for me only as long as i was sick; i was just something to mother, winifred, wasn‘t that it?” “ do you insist on an answer now?” “ no—for god’s sake—not a word!" ' he slumped into a chair, breathing hard. then: “ i’ll tell you what i think ring is —for various reasons. no, it would be easier to show you than to tell. he’s inside --in the front room. go to the window and watch him. i’m going to enter that room and say something.” she obeyed, wondering, smiling faintly in expectation of the game to follow. kirk stole to the inner door of the front room, and she saw him press it cautiously ajar. it made not a sound, and john ring, sit- ting with his back to the door, in a corner, slowly turned the pages of a large book, poring over the illustrations. there was not a sound from the entrance of kirk, that she could have- swom, but suddenly ring sat erect, stiffening in his chair—the pages lay unstirred before him. “ hands up!” called kirk. it was as if a gunshot precipitated john ring from his chair. one instant he sat there motionless; the next he was prone on the floor behind the chair. by magic, as if conjured from the thin air, a revolver was in his hand and leveled at the form of kirk. my mind is to be continued next week. don’t forget this magazine is issued weekly, and that you will get the continuation of this story without waiting a month. u u u u p a n by h. thompson rich unny little goat-man. called god pan— who’d ever dream him a music man? went to the river, got him a reed— and blew till the very stats gave heed. made such music, they made him a god— funny fate for a goat-man clod! arm. “ come on. looks to me you’re pretty well rigged up in good togs to be living in one of these boarding-house hall rooms.” percye’s reply was smothered in the rain. he climbed the front steps of mrs. whit— ney’s establishment with the officer beside beside him and pushed the bell. the water was running off his panama hat and oozing out of his shoes and little streams were running off his clothes. he shivered. “ what ’re you pushing that bell for— ain’t you got a key?” asked the cop harshly. “ oh, i forgot about that,” stuttered . percye, fumbling in his vest pocket for his key. “ why—why i haven’t got it; i left it home with my money.” ‘- “ sure, i knew you didn’t live here; come on with me!” .;_ “ but wait—” " “ come on,” roared the policeman, draw- ing his night stick from beneath his oilskin. at that moment the light in the hall was turned up and the door opened. “ why, mr. pally, you’re soaking wet!” it was miss furney, who had heard the bell. perhaps she had not been sleeping as hard as might be, knowing that percyce was out and that it was raining. ' “does this man live here?” asked the policeman. “ oh, yes; that’s percye pally—he lives here.” the policeman grudgingly departed. “man can’t even be on the streets late without being bothered by cops,” said percye feebly as she closed the door behind him. “go up-stairs and get those wet clothes off as quickly as you'can,” said the practi- cal miss- furney. “ i’ll make you a hot cup of tea and bring it up.” then noticing something lacking about him she asked: “why, did you lose your stick?” “ no, i threw that away, said percye grimly as he stamped up the stairs. later she brought him the hot tea. if she was surprised to note through the open door that the photograph of miss evelyn lang had disappeared from his dresser she failed to mention it. there was a sparkle in her eyes as she ) pally’s social climax. regarded percye bundled in his bathrobe with his good-looking hair rumpled. “ gee, this is good,” he said taking a sip of the tea. “ why are you so good to me, miss furney?” “ oh, men never understand those things,” she replied vaguely. “ i hope you won’t take cold, mr. pally.” “ don’t call me mr. pally,” he remon- strated, noting how lovely her profile looked in the half-light of the hall. “why don’t you call me amos?” “ amos! i thought your name was percye.” “ amos is my middle name—i’m—i‘m going to use it in the future!” “ all right,” she answered as she bid him good night. p. amos pally closed his door and downed the rest of the tea. then he took a package of engraved calling-cards from the drawer of his table and dropped it into the waste basket on top of an autographed photograph which was already there. he looked in the glass and noted with satisfac- tion the determination which showed in his face. next he opened his wardrobe door and removed his dress suit—worn three times—— from its hanger. he did it up into a neat bundle, wrapped it in paper from the top shelf in the wardrobe and tied it securely. “ any pawn broker will give me three weeks board for that and maybe four," he muttered to himself. “ and i ought to get five for the cane. i’ll pay up mrs. whitney to-morrow and—i ought to be able to save some money this fall.” then he tiptoed out into the hall and down-stairs to miss furney‘s room on the floor below. he rapped gently. “are you still up, leonia?” he called softly. “ why, yes, what-" “ i probably won’t see you in the morn- ing because i’m going down early and i wanted to ask you—what do you say if we go to a movie to-night?” “that would be just fine!” she laughed in a whisper from the other side of the door. and p. amos pally went up-stairs to bed. ‘ i max brand,- ‘ author of “ the ulla-ed," " children of the night.” “ 'l'nllil',” etc. preceding chapters briefly retold the whites of the arizona town pronounced clung “ a no-good chink.” but they were willing to allow his father, li clung, was a law-abiding laundryman. and pistols to soiled linen. young clung preferred ponies at a public dance he killed josiah boyer,'who attempted to eject him from the hall on the score of his color, which, as a matter of fact, was as white as any man's. by stealth he returned to his father‘s house before he took the long done for four mexicans. previously he had trail. then li clung confessed clung was not his son by blood. li had taken him while yet a baby after his mother’s death from a man who had grievously wronged him. his heels, clung rode into the desert. with a posse at later he came to a big ranch-house, where he found winifred sampson, her father, and her fiance, william'kirk. the latter was a querulous invalid, whom clung put to sleep and then cured by the strength of suggestion and a harmless tea. on his recovery kirk sought to marry winifred at once, but she, too, had come under the influence of clung, and refused to be hurried. moreover. kirk had his suspicions, and determined to put clung to the test. kirk called out: “hands up!" chapter ix. the outla\v. though he had shrunk back against the wall. “only a jest, my dear ring. gad! looks as if it nearly turned out serious for me, eh? pardon!” he retreated through the doorway and rejoined winifred on the porch. “ you saw?” ' “he is a westemer,” she answered, “ born with a gun in his hand, it was only natural for him to draw a gun.” “ don’t you see?” smiled kirk. “the worst law-abiding westerner knows the game is up when he hears that ‘hands up! ’ and he puts his fists high over his head. but a man to whom arrest is the same as death will fight it out even if he’s cornered.” “ you mean that ring is an outlaw?" “ that’s plain." i " come, come," called kirk cheerily, unexpectedly entering a room where clung was occupied with a book, in another moment clung was on the floor behind his chair, and in his hand was a revolver, leveled at kirk. “ i wonder!” “ seems to please you, winifred.” “ i think it does.” “ good heavens, my clear, why?” “my only doubt of ring has been that he’s too nearly effeminate. if he’s an out- law—well, you’ve removed my only objec- tion to him, will.” ' ' “j winifred, did you see his face when he lay there on the floor with that gun pointed?" _ “ yes. it looked like murder, didn’t it?” “ and you can smile at such a thing?” “ nonsense. nothing happened.” “but suppose, to complete my jest, i had had a gun in my hand and leveled at him.” “ then i suppose, will, that i would now be closing your eyes and bidding you a long good night. something about our friend ring makes me feel that he seldom misses.“ . this story began in the all-story weekly for april . : : clung. the big man answered: “and i begin to think that it’s time something were done—” “ about what, will?” “i’ll tell you after it’s happened. here comes your outlaw.” he stood in the doorway, perfectly se- rene, smiling at them in his own peculiar way. they had provided him with white clothes and now he came with small slow steps across the veranda, seeming to luxu- riate in the straightness of the creases in his trousers and reveling in the neat cool- ness of his costume. kirk turned on his heel and strode into the house. he went on through until he reached the barn behind. there he said to one of the men who cared for the horses: “how long will it take you to reach mortimer?” “about fifteen hours of ordinary riding. make it in eleven on a rush.” “ this,” said kirk, “ is a big rush. ride for mortimer and see that man you spend so much time talking about—the gunman ——i mean marshal clauson. tell him that on this ranch there is a man of medium height and of a very slender build, brown eyes—deep black hair—handsome—under thirty in age—hands as small as a wo- man’s—and very quick with weapons. ask him if that man is wanted in arizona by the law. that’s all you need to know. now ride like the devil.” he waited until the messenger was out of sight on the southern trail. then he went back to the house. the voice of conscience, which speaks so small and carries so far, was beginning to trouble him; but when he came again, softly, to the front of the house, and looked out on the veranda, he saw the man called john ring sitting near winifred with his head tilted back, his eyes half closed, and a faint smile as of mockery on his lips. beyond them the western sky was a riot of deep- ening colors, and toward _this the girl was - looking; but john ring gave it not a glance. his eyes were fixed steadily on his companion. kirk turned away. the voice of conscience troubled him no more. early the next morning winifred sent one of the servants to tell kirk that she ' have a surprise, and a corker. wished to speak with him. he sent back a note; i think i know what you want to say. i'm asking you for your own sake just as much as for mine to wait until to-morrow noon at the least before you say it. will you wait? she did not send a written answer to the note, but when she saw him later in the day she said: " of course i’ll wait— as long as you want me to. and i know you’re not going to be foolish, will?” “ i’m glad you’ve confidence in me,” he answered dryly. she said with a sudden concern: “ what is it, will? you act like a little boy with a surprise to spring on the family.” “ to tell you the truth,” he said, “i that is, i think i_have. i ought to know by to- morrow morning. will you wait?” “of course. i’ll ask john ring. he ought to be good at riddles.” “at this riddle,” said kirk, “he ought to be very good!” “there’s something nasty behind that, will?” “ only a riddle.” and so he left her, and spent the rest of the day by himself; but in the evening the man called john ring came to his room. he spoke simply and to the point. “ we have been friends. we are friends no more. is it because of the woman— your woman? tell me, is it because of your woman?” the face of william kirk contorted with pain, and a perverse desire to torture him- self made him spring to his feet and fairly shout: “damn your eyes, don’t you see that she’s no longer my woman? i don’t know whose woman she is—maybe yours. and you and i? no, we’re no longer friends. now get out of my room!” “a loud voice,” answered clung, “says foolish things.” but he was smiling as he left the room, and kirk knew with a cold falling of the heart that the stranger had gone straight to the girl. what would happen he could not well guess, but he knew her to be as honorable as a man. she had given her 'all - story weekly. word to wait until the next day, and be felt fairly confident that not even john ring and his silence could make her speak before that time. yet it was a night of no sleep for him. he went to bed late and tossed about for a while. at length he rose and began to walk up and down in the dark room. a .low, orange-colored moon caught his eye, and he went to the window to watch its setting. it rolled lower and lower. just before it sank out of sight. while still half of its broad, lighted shield hung over a hill— top, two figures walked across its image-— a man and a woman close together. right before that moon they paused. the woman was looking up, and now she threw up both her arms. the man stood with folded arms and his head was bent. the moon rolled down below the hilltop; the two figures melted again into the dark from which they had come; and kirk knelt by the window and buried his face in his hands. he went down to a late breakfast the next morning, hollow-eyed, nervous, his hands twitching violently so that he could hardly eat. there was such a growing weakness that he began to fear a relapse. he had barely finished his grapefruit when the two entered—john ring and the girl. they had been through the garden, gath- ering flowers, and now they spilled a rich tide of color across the table, and stood there on either side of them, the girl laugh~ ing. he knew that ring stood with his head back, smiling faintly; but he dared not look up and make sure. if he had been right he would have had to jump at the man’s throat. “ look!" cried the girl. outside and sunlight inside!” she raised a double handful of yellow blossoms and let them shower down upon the table. it n kitchen. he dropped to the floor, a gun in either hand. “ clung!" called a voice from the other of the room. " clung! clung!” they were all around him. “ sunlight called a voice from the “we‘ve got you, my boy,” called the voice of marshal clauson. “ are you going to let us take you, or do we have to make a killing here?” ' and clung, thinking swiftly. thought of the fusillade of bullets—some of them going wild, perhaps—the girl—bloodshed—hor- '! he rose and tossed his guns upon the table. he pulled another six-shooter from the front of his white trousers; he threw a long knife after the rest. then be folded his arms. “ i am ready,” said clung. marshal clauson appeared at the door of the kitchen. his eyes were narrowed, like those of a man prepared to do a des- perate deed. he held two revolvers poised. “ get your hands over your head, clung!” he ordered. “ come in behind him, boys, and shoot if he bats an eye.” “ i will not make trouble,” said clung. the marshal, still white-faced and nar- row-eyed, got between his victim and the table where clung’s weapons lay. “ i begin to you won’t—and i’m damned glad of it, clung. for a chink, you show an amazing pile of sense.” there were six other men entering the room from variousangles, each with lev- eled guns, yet even those who approached clung from behind came softly, stealthily, as if each man was attempting a desperate deed alone. “ get the irons on him," ordered clauson. they were produced, a new, glittering pair; clung held his arms patiently in posi- tion, and the manades snapped shut. “it was you,” smiled clung to kirk. chapter x. ~ the chink. ut kirk turned. from those eyes as if he found them difficult to bear. he ran to clauson and touched him on the shoulder. “what d’you mean by ‘ chink ’p” be asked. “ what i say. this gent looks white, don’t he? well, he ain’t. this, ladies and gents, is clung of mortimer—half-breed chinaman, son of old li clung~same town." clun g. .h’ ‘- the hands of winifred, as if frozen in place, had held the last of the yellow blos- soms. now the fingers curled over it, '- crushed it shapeless, colorless—a bruised, ugly mass, which dropped now unheeded ' ~ the floor. “who sent me word?” asked clauson. "he gets half the reward." “ i don’t want the—blood money,” said _ kirk. \ “ wash your hands of the business, eh?” grinned the marshal. “well, if you know clung’s record i don’t blame you.” he passed a large silken bandanna across his forehead. “it’s the cool of the mornin’, all right, but i don’t mind saying that i’ve been feeling some warm. yep, even when we had the drop on this bird i wasn’t particu- lar happy. i tell you, i’ve seen this same chink— well, why talk about what’s done? we’ve got him. that’s all. and he’ll be hung nice and regular if i can keep the crowd from lynchin’ him at mortimer. what’s the matter, lady? you look sic .” a sickly pallor, indeed, had swept over winifred’s face, and now she moved' for the door leading to the front part of the house. the course brought her unavoid— ably close to clung, who st d with his head high, tilting back, eyes half closed, smiling faintly. one instant she paused, near him, and surveyed him from head to foot. then an uncontrollable shudder swept over her; she covered her face with her hands and ran from the room. “makes her sick to know she’s been in the same room with clung, eh?” said the marshal easily. it was a great day for him. ain’t so bad—for a chink. only one white notch in his record. and that was the fault of old boyce, i guess. lead him out, lads.” “one minute,” said kirk, and he ap- proached clung. / “listen,” said kirk, speaking so softly that no one else might hear. “i’m sorry, but i had to do it. i suspected something was wrong; i didn’t dream it was as bad as this. for what you’ve done for me, i’m grateful. tell me what i can do to make your last days happy. and—” “but i tell you, gents, this clung ' “wash the thought of what i have done away,” said clung. “let me pay you for the medicine you used, at least.” “the medicine was concocted of com- mon herbs. a few cents would more than pay the cost. i healed your mind, not your body.” “ making a fool out of me from the first, eh? still, i feel like a dog about this—er— clung.” “ it was not you,” said the other. “ it was fate. i have forgotten you already.” “damned if i don’t think you have. cool devil you are, clung. it was the girl; the thought of her drove me on, clung.” “ you have lost her,” said the prisoner. “ she is gone from you.” “ nonsense! the moment you are gone she’ll come and cry her shame away on my shoulder. a chinaman! gad, poor wini- fred will be under the whip!” “ the flowers,” said clung faintly, “ they will save her from you.” “ damn your yellow hide!” muttered kirk. “ i wonder if i understand you?” “ no, you can never understand. mar- shal clauson, will you take me?” they led him outside and helped him to the saddle of his own gray horse. “ now,” said the marshal, “ there’s some- thing about you—damned if i know why, clung—that makes me start sympathizin’ with you. foolish, i know, but i can’t help it. listen here. if you’ll give me your word, i’ll let you ride back to mortimer like a white man—with your hands free and no rope around you to suggest a lynch- ing to the crowd. gimme your word?”. “the marshal is kind to clung,” said the other. “ he has a garden of flowers—” “best in mortimer, eh, lad? first i remember of you, clung, is seeing you snook around that same garden. here, johnson, unlock those irons.” _ and so it came to pass that clung rode like a free man into mortimer. a crowd gathered at the first appearance of the cavalcade and there were 'murmurs and some threatening shouts. “but they won’t do nothing,” said the marshal to clung. “partly because they know me, and partly because they see you clung. chair. he seized first on a massive book, and then on the butt of a gun, but still old li did not move; marshal clauson deliv- ered himself of his favorite curse, famous through the length and breadth of ari- zona. “ thunderin’ hell!” he roared. a fool or jest plain crazy?” “ am i chapter xi. the heart of li clung. he chinaman drew himself erect; dig- nity fell about him as visibly as the toga of a roman senator carrying an appeal to the leader of plundering barba- rians at the gates of the imperial city. “ it is all- that li clung has,” he said in his faultless english, “ and his money is not stolen.” he opened the bag and spilled the con— tents across the desk. there was gold of three denominations and there was an in- termixture of silver. “li clung,” he said, “ has gone to his friends. li clung has borrowed what they would give. li clung makes a gift to the marshal—a little present.” the marshal, wi‘th wildly staring eyes, gathered the money and poured it back in the bag. li clung held out his calloused hands. “ li clung will work,” he said-—“ he will be the slave of the marshal clauson,-if this money is not enough.” “you damn fool,” said the marshal hoarsely, “it’s gettin’ too near my price. take your fool money away!” “li clung,” said the unmoved china- man, “ is a poor man, but he will bring much money. he will sell his house. he has silks and pictures. he will sell them and bring the money to the marshal. he will eat stale bread and drink only water and bring to the marshal all that he makes. every month he will bring money—a little - money. a present to the marshal from li clung. li clung will bow to his gods, who are very strong, every day. he will beg them to bring a long life to the mar- shal and much happiness. they are strong gods. they will bring children to the wife of the marshal. they will fill his house with peace and happiness and many voices of his friends.” “ my god!” whispered the marshal, staring as if he saw a ghost. he rubbed his knuckles across his eyes, which were dim. ‘ “ can a chink be like this? li clung, you hear me swear to god that if there was a chance for your boy he’d get it, but he ain’t got a chance. the law won’t give him no look in. if it would, i’d see that he got out, and it wouldn’t cost you no money. but it can’t be done, li. your son is a chinaman; maybe he’s half white, but his father’s a chinaman, and the boys want blood for the death of old boyce. a chink can’t get away with a white man’s death. you ought to know that.” a pallor fell on the face of li clung; -it was like a shower of ashes. “li clung will tell the marshal a little story,” he said, “ if he will be heard.” “ li,” said the marshal, “there’s some- thing inside me that’s aching as if i had “a son of my own—and as if you was white. sit down and talk, li.” ' “ it is not a good story,” said li, over- looking the proffered chair. “li clung has been a strong man and a bad man. li clung was in cripple creek.” “ the hell you were!” “ and there was a man called john pem- berton.” “ i knew john well. he was a hard one, was old john.” “ li clung had a young wife, and li clung had two little sons. li clung loved them all. sometimes it seemed to li that his heart would break, there was so much dove in it for his wife and for his two sons. he had room for them all, but it swelled the heart of li clung. and every morn- ing and every evening lilclung bowed be- fore his gods and made himself humble for fear his gods should be jealous, li clung was so happy. “ but the gods of li clung are fierce gods and strong gods. they grew angry with him. they took all his happiness— see! they took it as suddenly as li clung takes the stalk of this flower and bends it and breaks it—there are three flowers gone a-s all- story weekly. because that stalk is broken. so it was with the gods of li clung. ' “ they sent john pemberton to the house of li for money, for john pemberton needed gold. he came to find money, and he came very drunk. he found no money, but he found my wife and my sons. she made crying out, being a woman. he struck her in the face, and she fell and struck her head against a stone, and died so—being a woman. and the two sons, when they saw their mother die, they made much noise, screaming together, so that john pemberton, he feared that they would bring many men upon him, so he took them by the heels—” “ god!” whispered the marshal. “li clung came home that night and his heart was singing with happiness. he found his two little buds dead, and he found his flower faded and dying. but there was a small voice left in her no bigger than the humming of a fly, 'and with that voice she told- li clung how all that had filled his heart had been poured out again and thrown away like water on the sand. then li clung buried his dead. “he waited. john pemberton took a woman to his house. the woman bore him a son and died. then li clung was ready. he went in the middle of the night and tied the mouth of john pemberton with cloths so that he could not cry out.” “ but pemberton was a big, strong man, li.” “li clung was not weak,” said the chi- naman. “he tied the mouth of john pemberton so that he could not cry out, and then he made him know by signs that li clung would take his son and go away. 'and li clung went away with the boy; afterward john pemberton died.” “by god!” cried the marshal. your boyris young pemberton!” “ my boy is clung,” said li solemnly. “i begin to see. yet you’ve got a. yel- low skin, li. well, my eyes are getting .wide open.” “ li clung hated the little boy he had stolen, but after a while he came to love him. the hands of a baby are strong hands.” he made a gesture which the marshal did “ then not see, for his face was buried in his hands. “li clung loved the boy and took him into his heart, which was empty. he gave him all things that he could give him. then he saw that clung carried the blood of a white father in him and that he was a destroyer, and sometimes li was glad, because he did not wish well for white people, and clung would be like a plague of locusts, consuming. but now the son of li clung is about to die, and li clung is very weary. he has no strength, and he is sick about the heart. he has brought gold to the marshal. is it worth this life?" “li, if this yam would be believed— we’d get off clung. he’s only killed one white man, and that was in self-defense, more or less. but d’you think you could convince the boys that clung is all white? nope; they‘re out for blood. i’d take a chance and let him go, but there’s another appointment due for this job, and if i let clung go another man is pretty sure to get my place, and—” but li clung was already disappearing through the doorway. > marshal clauson sent his wife to the jail with fresh flowers for clung, and took a long, hard ride through the country to. shake off the thought of clung. but when he came back the same case attacked him again. this time it was in the person of the girl whom he had seen in the room at the time of clung’s capture. she was all in white, with a white hat, and a white plume curling softly around the brim, and she seemed to marshal clauson the most beau— tiful woman he had ever seen, except molly clauson on a certain night when she had said—but that was long ago. chapter xii. the lone trail. “ suppose,” said the marshal, after he had seen her seated, “that you've come about the clung case? want to make sure that the chink will get his? well, he will. there ain’t no reasonable doubt about that.” \clung. she winced deeper in the big chair, and then raised her head in the way she had caught from clung. ‘ "i have come to find out if money will be of any use to _him in securing a good lawyer,” she said steadily. “ that's the' way of it, eh?" queried the marshal, and he shifted the lamp so that the light fell more directly on her face. “ well, lady, i’ll tell you now that it would be simply throwing away good coin. there’s only one verdict a jury would bring in a case like this, and an arizona jury, anyway. josiah bche wasn’t much account, but then he wasn’t no harm to anybody, neither. he’s dead, and there’s a life owing somewhere to the law—a chink’s life at that.” every time he used the word, carelessly, he noted that the girl winced. he went on: “boyce ain’t the only one. there might be the ghost of a chance if he was. there’s others. clung has left a trail be- hind hirn a mile long, and it’s thick with dead greasers. he’s a nacheral born killer, miss sampson, and that’s the shortest way to the truth of the thing. he shoots too straight not to kill.” and- the girl, thinking back to the keen picture of clung, saw how he might be both a lover of all things beautiful and also a dealer of death. the marshal, watching, saw the hardening of her face. he was thinking many things. she said, rising: “ there are a great many twists in the law. good counsel may save him, and if it may, i want him to have the chance.” “ ma’am,” said the marshal, “ there ain’t many twists in arizona law—not in a case like this. you can lay to_ that. maybe i can ask why you’re so interested in this—— chink?" the blood stained her face at that. she said with some dignity: “why do you keep forcing the word down my throat? i know he’s a——chinarnan, but he’s a rare man, marshal clauson, no matter what his nationality. if he took a white man’s life, he also saved a white man’s life.” “ clung did?" _ “' the man who betrayed him to you," said the girl, whitening with scorn and an— ger. “ he was sick, nearly dead. we had given him up. then clung came and healed him, sat by him day and night, would not .leave him until the man was cured." “ hrm!” murmured the marshal, and his hand moved automatically toward the butt of his gun. “may i ask if this william kirk person is still at your house?” “ no,” she said, “ he has gone north.” “ speaking personal,” said the marshal slowly, “he’d better stay in his north. he was a bit too far south for it to be healthy. that kind don’t never prosper in arizona. clung saved him, eh?” “ if there’s a law of compensation,” said the girl, “it ought to appear. a life for a life; that’s what clung gives.” “ you’d throw in the greasers he finished off, eh?” grinned the marshal. “and the white men he didn’t kill, but just shot up bad? throw ’em in for good measure, eh? well, i don’t mind saying—but i got no“ _right to say anything. miss sampson, i’ll have to be saying good evening to you. i got a pile of things to do this night.” “ and you’ll see that the very best coun- sel is retained for him? can we make you our agent in that, marshal clauson? i know you’ll keep the murdering cow-punch ers away from him.” “lady,” said the marshal, rising with her, “i’ve spread the news around among the boys that if they tackle the jail to get clung, i’ll turn the chink loose on ’em with two guns. there ain’t no better way of keeping mortimer quiet. they’ve all seen him in action and it makes a pile of ’em sick to remember. good night.” she went, with bowed head; but the mo- ment she had gone the marshal set to work, cheerily, whistling as he proceeded. first he opened a door so cunningly set into the wall that the cunningest eye of suspicion would never have “detected it, and,he took from it a small saw, a lever of diminutive proportions, rope, and a stout knife. these things he bestowed about his person, adding to his load an extra cartridge-belt and two long forty-fives. thus be equipped he started straight for the jail and went to the cell of clung. the “chink,” as usual, was slowly pac- ing up and down inside the bars, utterly 'all-story. weekly. oblivious of all that passed in the corridor. he did not even turn when the door opened and then clanged shut; but when he dis- covered that it was clauson his face soft- ened to a smile of infinite gentleness. “flowers!” he said, and stretched out the delicate hands. “flowers be damned!” murmured the marshal cautiously. “ something better than that, lad. freedom!” v “ for me? if i go—what will come of the marshal?” i “ shut up! before i was a marshal i done my share of hell-raising. i know. also i know another thing. i’ve heard the story of oleri clung. you’re young pem- berton, all white—whiter than your dad by a damn sight!” “ no,” said the other, “i am clung. am not ashamed.” “ neither would i be. old li is a rare one. and you’d never have a chance of making the world believe that you’re not a half-breed. let it go. arizona ain’t the only place. hit out—let the wind take you, south or north. and here’s a word in your ear. if you go north, on the right trail, you’ll find a girl that hasn’t forgotten you. i think she might believe you. any- way, she’d try like hell to believe you.” “and her friends?” answered clung. “ that’s the stickler. rumor would fol- low you; you’d still be the chink to most of the world.” “i am clung. i shall not change the name. it is my pride. i will be what i am. it is the better way.” “the girl, clung?” in another man the change of expression would have been almost negligible, but knowing clung, the marshal moved a pace back, wondering. “ she knew me for what i am,” said clung, stiffening, “ and when she heard that i was ‘clung the chink,’ you saw her as she passed me in the room. the pain of it is still with me. if i had been ‘ all white ’ the pain was so great when she turned from me that i should have groaned and fallen on my knees and wept and begged her to come back to me. but i made no sound. i am clung.” “but think of her pride of race, clung. i the world would have disowned her if she’d stayed by you.” “she knew me before. only the mo- ment before she was laughing at me over an armful of flowers—she who is like a flower of white—all white. and she changed. when she heard my name she drifted fur- ther away from me than a thousand years.” i “ clung, she came to-night and wanted to know what her money could do in the hiring of a lawyer for you. and the other man—he has gone north. she hates him. i think in a way, clung, that i wouldn’t have come here to-night if i hadn’t seen her. she loves you, lad; she almost loves you even while she thinks you’re a china- man. think of it!” that smile which the marshal knew, that stem curling of the upper lips, changed the face of the other. he said: “ if she came to me crawling on her knees in the dust it would not change me. she could not repay the pain of that time when she first turned from me. such a pain, sir, would burn her away to light ashes and dust—kill her like flame. she cannot repay me. i do not ask repayment. it was my pleasure; it is my pain. i am clung.” “you go south?” “ first i go to see my father; then i ride south. and some day the time will come when you shall need me. i will come. you will not need to hunt far or call long. i shall come. time will not change me; dis tance will not make me forget. i am clung.” “ clung, and a devil of pride,” said the marshal. “ the lone trail is a long trail, but good luck go with you. your killings are not ended, and you’ll die hard yourself. but—there’s the saw. oil, too. you can cut through those western bars in a jiffy. once started—well, here’s two guns. i know you’ll get loose. don’t shoot unless you have to. that’s all i ask; and then don’t shoot to kill.” as he closed the door behind him, he raised his lantern and looked back; clung stood with folded arms, his , head tilting bgck, his eyes half closed, faintly smiling. the marshal went back to his house and sat in his room waiting. an hour, two clung. f hours, three hours passed. then he heard three shots fired in quick succession. he ran to the window and threw it wide; the echo of the sounds still trembled through the air. “the south trail sure enough,” said the marshal. chapter xiii. i yo chat. ut if the‘escape of clung was due to the kindliness of marshal clauson cer- tainly there was not a living soul in mortimer or in any of the marshal’s wide district'th faintly dreamed the truth. the marshal was more widely famed for a hard fist and a nervous gun than for a gentle heart, and the reward which his one act of unadulterated goodness brought him was a general suspicion of growing ineffi- ciency. people could not but remember the length of time which clung ranged the desert, how he was at length brought 	o bay by force of chance and numbers; and now the desperado was set free to prey upon society through the carelessness of morti- mer’s marshal. it was enough to irritate a much quieter town than mortimer; the knowledge of it floated up to the higher circles of authority and brought a cold, brief telegram to clauson. he defied the higher authorities with a snarl, for he knew that he was too valuable to be dispensed with; but what spurred him every day were the side-glances_of careless contempt with which the cow- punchers and miners of the town favored him. within a week marshal clauson hated the entire population of the orient, par- ticularly the chinese, andamqng the chi- nese be selected clung himself for peculiar anathema. with all his heart he regretted the escape of the outlaw. that clung was really white made no difference to the marshal—he could not separate his“ preju- dice into fact and theory. first he scoured the countryside and combed the heart of the desert for clung; then he sen'bdeputies far and wide in a vain effort to reclaim the fugitive from justice; but clung had vanished from the face of the earth and not even a rumor of him floated back to the ear of mortimer. yen-still the town waited, sleeping with one eye open, it might be said; and strong in the con- sciousness that such men as clung, whether white or yellow, return eventually to their earliest hunting-grounds and bring a not inconsiderable portion of hell with them. they had seen clung in action, and the picture would not fade readily from their minds. in the mean time they cast a glance of angry suspicion upon marshal clauson and were fain to remark in his hearing that all men are apt to grow old. which explains the mood of clauson him- self when on a certain day his deputy en- tered from the outer office, leaned against the door and said: “ they’s a chink out- side wants to talk t’ you, clauson.” the marshal looked up with a start. “ a chink?” he growled suspiciously. “ see me? t’ hell with him. tell him i'm busy.” “i already done it,” said the deputy. “tell him i’m sick.” “ i already done it,” said the deputy. “ tell him i’m out of town.” “ i already done it,” said the deputy. the marshal narrowed his eyes _wistfully. “partner,” he drawled with dangerous calm, “you ain’t kidding me a little, are you?” “ i’ll tell a‘man i ain’t,” said the deputy hastily. “ ’s a matter of fact, clauson, i told the fool chink he’d be takin’ his life in his hands if he come in talkin’ to you jest now, but all he does is stand there with his hands shoved up in his sleeves and bat his eyes at me and say: ‘ all same yo chai see marsh’ clauson.’ i never see such a fool!” ~ “ h-m!” said the marshal. “ yo chai? don’t remember the name. what sort of a looking chink is he?” “ kind of tall,” said the deputy, “for a chink; skinny; round-shouldered; wrinkled old yaller face; long pig-tail; got a mus- tache that—looks like a shadow of yours, marshal—just a few stragglin’, long hairs on each side of his mouth.” “tell the old ape to beat it,” grunted the marshal, “i had enough of chinks. wait a minute. how’s be dressed?” weekly. all - story “ like a swell. all silk-padded stuff like a quilt, y’ know. red hat with a tassel; fancy chink shoes.” “ well,” sighed the marshal, “ let him in. i s’pose somebody’s been swipin’,his dope and he wants help.” the deputy nodded and disappeared. his place at the door was taken almost at once by yo chai, a slender, rather bowed figure, carrrying about him that air of dis- tinction which goes with any gentleman no matter what the color of his skin. but the marshal was in no mood to ap- preciate fineness in a chinaman. “i’m busy,” he greeted his visitor. “ start talkin’ and- finish quick.” a soft voice answered: “ yo chai wait till marsh’ clauson got plenty time,” and he turned back to the door. but the marshal, at the sound of that voice, leaped from his chair and shouted: “wait!” yo chai turned, and at the sight of him clauson lapsed back into his chair, staring in manifest bewilderment. the chinaman bore this scrutiny without changing a mus- cle of his face. “ close the door,” said the marshal hoarsely at last, “and sit down.” yo chai obeyed, and as he sat down, murmured: “ ta hsi "—great happiness. marshal clauson let out a great breath which blew forth his mustaches, and the light of battle died from his little eyes. “ i was thinkin’ for a minute,” he sighed, “ that you was—well, it don’t make no difference.” “the eyes of y chai are old,” said the chinaman, “ but he sees clearly.” again, at the sound of that voice, the marshal started, leaned forward with a scowl, and then settled back into his chair. “ go on,” he said. “ what d‘ you think you seen?” “ marsh’ clauson thought yo chai much like clung. speak same.” “ah,” said the marshal with renewed eagerness, “ you know clung?” “little bit,” said yo chai. “ if you can lead me to him,” said clau- son, “ i’ll—i’ll be your friend, yo chai—— and a marshal’s the sort of a friend that a chink needs in mortimer, eh?” i “ marsh’ clauson want clung?” “ do i? i’ll tell a man i do!” h why?" “ because he’s a devil, yo chai." “ t’ao ch’i?” nodded yo chai, which means “ mischievous,” “young devil,” and several other things. “ yep,” said the marshal, who had a smattering of chinese, “t’ao ch’i” and a lot of other stuff. he’d got me in wrong with the boys. life’s just one long misery to me ever since clung got away. yo chai, can you lead me to him?” (i yes." “god!” cried the marshal, and leaped from his chair with a shout of joy. “ yo chai, you ain’t lyin’ to me? give me one crack at him and i’m your man. you’re talkin’ straight to me, yo?” “ shang ti,” said the chinaman sadly, “ hears me.” “ and how much d’you want for actin’ as a guide?” _“ nothing.” “ nothing?” “ it is not worth money. it is a little thing to lead marsh’ clauson to clung. also, clung once belong marsh’ clauson.” “i had him once, so you don’t want anything for bringin’ me back my lost prop erty, eh? yo chai, i see you’re a good sort. where is he, y ?” the chinaman withdrew from the sleeve of his silken ma kua, or horse-coat, a slen- der, dark-yellow hand and pointed to his breast. “ clung is here.” the marshal merely stared. “i,” said yo chai calmly, “ am clung.” “ you?” gasped clauson. “ but clung— your skin—” he broke down, stammering. “with soap and water,” said the other quietly, “ i can make my skin white again.” “and you come back,” roared clauson, “ to show me how clever you are, eh? you come back' thinkin’ you can slip out of my hands again? clung, no man can’t do it!” “ clung knew,” said the other gravely, slipping at once into perfect and fluent english, “ that marshal clauson hated clung. so he has come to give himself back. marshal clauson gave him a gift not all - story weekly. the slender man, “and there came a time when he learned that he was white. not yellow—white like his skin all the way through. he was very glad. he went .among white men and they were brothers to him. they were very ugly in many ways, but they were his brothers. he loved them. but one of them stung him in the palm of his hand like a snake that he had warmed by his fire' in winter, and others hunted him like a coyote up and down the hills, and there was a woman—” he stopped short and his breast heaved once. “oh!” said marshal clauson. “i be- gin to follow you for the first time, clung. well, if it’s the woman that rides your mind, clung, you can be easy. she come in to me before you went free and asked what she could do for you. she was will- ing to do all you could ask a girl to do for a chink, and if she knew you was white— well—” he finished with a suggestive smile, but the face of clung hardened. he was pick- ing up his guns and his knife again from the table and replacing them under his coat, and the way he handled them was not pleasant to seet—the knife went home with a little jar that made the marshal start. “does the color of the skin,” he said, his voice evil and low, “ change the color of a man’s heart? if she knew me to be white would that change me? no, the white man sees only what his mind tells him to see. he follows stupid and ugly gods. clung is dead, and y chai remains. he has gone back to the gods of his fathers, to shang ti and others. he is happy with them.” the marshal moistened his lips and then went on with less assurance: “ d’you mean to tell me, clung, that you’d rather be a chink than a white man—one of the salt of the earth?” “ is a white man more honest?” asked clung, with an uncanny brightening of his eyes. “ is he cleaner at heart? does he talk less and more wisely? does he know better what is beautiful and good? no! he chatters like a coyote over a dead beef —- all noise and no meaning. he licks the hand that feeds him and then he bites it to the bone. he sees_what his friends see, but nothing for himself. he loves a horse because he pays a great price for it; he loves a woman because her body is beauti- ful. but the horse may stumble before it wins a race and the skin of a woman may be cheap under rich clothes.” the marshal stepped back, a little abashed, and his eyes wandered while he hunted for another argument with which to meet this tide of words, but the other swept on: “ who was clung? k’e pu chill tao t’a shih shui! (i do not know what he was). he was half white and half yellow. to be all white is not good. i have seen and i know. so i have killed clung. now there is only yo chai. he is all yellow. he will sleep on a kang,' he will pray to the gods of his fathers; he will eat yang jou tsuan wan tau, and yang jou ssu, chu [> ) and {> ping. behind his clz’ien men —front gate—he will sit cross-legged on a mat of reeds and smoke—pah! clung‘ hated the smell of tobacco-smoke! but now he will be all chinese~all yellow. to be white is to be a fool; clung was a fool!” “ clung,” said the marshal, scowling, ‘f some of what you say sounds kind of rea- sonable, and some of it i don’t follow, and some of it is chink chatter that no white man wants to know, but i sort of gather from your drift that what you said toward the end was enough to make me fight, eh?” “ah!” said the other, and his voice and manner softened instantly from harshness to a gentle dignity that came from the heart. “marshal clauson is my father and i am ta shih ju—your big servant. y chai must go." “ and this is the end of clung?” said the marshal, half sadly. “well, lad, you done your bit while you was hanging around these parts—nobody ever done more. but if you go up to kirby creek you’re going straight to trouble, clung. around morti- mer, maybe, you could get by with your dis- guise, even in front of people that knowed you, but up in kirby creek it won’t be the same. i know what i‘m talking about. they’ve got a tough lot up there. there’s dave spenser that some calls the night hawk. a prime bad ’un he is, clung, and no mistake. but he ain’t all that’s there. clung. “ ibeen to kirby creek and i tell you straight from the shoulder that it’s fuller of fights in the night than a big city. every other shack is a saloon and dance-hall, and the ones in between is gambling joints. and the men that go to a gold rush is chiefly crooks and fellers that ain’t made a go of it other places. they got nothing and they’re ready to risk their hides for a dol- lar. don’t go to kirby creek, clung.” “ yo chai,” said the other, with a swift glint of his dark eyes, “is not a dog. he will not run because men bark at him. if they bite, he has teeth.” and to prove it, his slow smile bared a row of white, perfect teeth. “ that’s just what i mean,” said the mar- shal anxiously, “before you been there a day you’ll get in a fight, and when you get in a fight the devil ’ turn loose in you— and no man that’s ever seen you pull your guns once can ever make a mistake in you if he sees you work a second time. clung, i know!” “what does it matter?” said clung sol- emnly. “i will not be a white man, and i cannot be all yellow even if i wish. there is only one thing left to yo chai, and that is to die. and if he dies, he hopes it will' be with steel in his hand. so!” and speaking, his head tilted back in that familiar way, and his eyes half closed, and his smile dreamed on the far distance—as if he once more sat on the table in his father’s laundry and exulted in the yellow, hot sunlight against his face. “ i go,” he said, and, thrusting his hands back into the alternate sleeves, he bowed until the black tassel of his red cap almost brushed against the floor, “i go, marsh’ clauson. once more: clz’u men chien hsi!” and with bent shoulders and jogging pig- tail, he strode through the door at a pace of grave and sober-footed dignity. chapter xv. stsn torture. o at least one person in mortimer the passing of clung from the town that day would have been a great joy had he but known of it. that person was john sampson. for a fortnight he had trailed winifred about the town while she strove vainly to discover clues of clung. as a rule, she hunted alone, escaping from him with any pretext, for when he was with her he would ejaculate at every other step: “ all this for a damned chink!” “ for a human being! ” she would respond angrily. ' “half human, maybe,” john sampson would answer. “ you mean because he’s half white? as a matter of fact, dad, it isn’t the white in him that interests me, but the yellow blood. he’s the most unusual mind i’ve ever met.” “ now, to be frank, winifred, the whole point is that you want another person to take care of, just as you’ve been taking care of poor billy kirk. as soon as bill was well you sent him away and don’t care . if you ever lay eyes on him again. it ’ be the same with this clung—if you ever find him, which you won’t.” “ won’t i?” she would respond with that little touch of mystery upon which a woman always falls back when she is thoroughly baffled. “ i have some tricks left with which i’ll catch him.” “ but no trick as good as the oned have for scaring him away.” “would you do that?” “ for heaven’s sake, my dear, are we to throw away our lives simply because billy kirk called down the law on the head of an outlaw?” “on the head of a man who saved his life,” she would answer bitterly, and this, as a rule, ended the argument for the time being, until john sampson recovered his wind and his bad temper. for he was a little plump man with short legs, and men of this build are not meant to withstand the heat of the southwest. they grow wet and their clothes stick to them if they so much as rise and walk across a room, and the only sound which pleases them is the crooning of an electric fan. so john sampson, as a rule, persisted in following winifred through the morning. but when the afternoon came his will-power became a less vital factor than his irrita- tion, and he retired in dudgeon to his room. however, this routine could not go on all- story weekly. forever. it was manifestly impossible that he should fry himself on the griddle of benevolence in the southwest until dooms- day. he decided to put an end to this tiresome quest; he would unearth a thor- ough-history of the wild exploits of clung, some of which he had already heard, and armed with this tale he would go to wini- fred and relate it to her with some embel- lishments of his own. if this tale of vio~ lence did not revolt her, nothing would. to do him justice, john sampson was a thoroughly kindly man, and if he showed malevolence on this occasion, the shortness of his wind and of his legs must be re- membered, and the tireless insistence of a woman bent on doing a good deed. a chari- table woman, undoubtedly, is an angel to the evildoers, but she is designed by god to try the patience of respectable men who possess a surplus of everything except time. their smiling insistence of purpose is like the spanish torture, water dropping stead- ily on the head—it drives men mad. it was something of this madness which wssessed john sampson on this day. he had trudged from one dusty end of morti~ mer to the other pursued by a haunting mirage—a cool room in his club—far, far to the north. having made up his mind to un- earth the whole gruesome story of the kill- ing of the outlaw, he decided to start at the beginning and wheedle something from the mouth of li clung, the reputed father of the man-killer. and he went, accordingly, as fast as his pudgy legs would carry him, straight to the laundry of li clung. now, the smell of a laundry in any land and in any city and clime is not that of a garden, and the odor of a chinese laundry on a hot day in the southwest, with the scent of sweaty laborers and the sharp taint of desert sand all mingling, is pungent, in- deed, but not poetic. john sampson stood at the door and stared down the row of bobbing heads that wagged steadily from side to side above the ironing-boards. “ haloo!” called john sampson, but not a head stirred. while he waited he observed a little table at his right hand, full in the glare of the sun. interesting things might have been told him about that table, and at least one story that would have made the face of winifred sampson turn pale. presently a little chinaman in white, loose trousers and a black cotton coat, the for- ward part of his head completely shaven, hobbled from the back of the room. he had the gait of most of the chinese we see in this country, walking as if he carried a great burden. “ li clung?” asked john sampson. “ li clung,” nodded the chinaman, and removed the long stem of his pipe from his mouth. john sampson saw a death’s head of leanness, the skin pulled so tightly across the forehead that it shone, and the cheeks sucked into little holes at the center. a sparse growth of black hairs covered the upper lip and the removal of the pipe re- vealed several isolated, very yellow teeth. a head of ghastly ugliness, save that the slant eyes, weary and patient past belief, redeemed the hideous mask in which they were set. the head was supported by a marvelously lean neck, on which the skin hung in witheredv folds; and the skin both of the neck and the face was everywhere crisscrossed by myriad tiny wrinkles, like innumerable little incisions yet there was about this old, tottering wreck of a china- man the suggestion of strength and further capacity for labor that moved a sense of dim respect in john sampson. he began to see that it was possible for this old grotesque to be the father of slender, hand- some clung, the killer of men. granting, of course, due predominance to the blood of the white mother. but asuredly he must bring winifred on the morrow to see this spectre of the orient. the thought of this meeting made it pos- sible for him to smile almost with kindness upon li clung. he said: “you have a son?” instantly the countenance of the china- man, lightened, and his hand made a little movement almost as if he were about to reach out and touch the white man. the expression changed almost at once, how- ever, to one of suspicious grief, and the wrinkles grew sharply into the forehead, arching high toward the center. “ i have a son,” he answered simply, and his moist old eyes fastened earnestly on john sampson. . r“ i“ i i ._. clung. "' and he is in trouble,” went on the financier easily. “ of course we all know about that. now, li clung, i am a friend of a man whose life clung saved. under- stand?” he raised his forefinger to emphasize and point his question, careful lest his vocabu- lary should be too large for the brain of li clung, but the chinaman returned at once: “it is true! clung saved many men; he saved even more men than he killed." john sampson could not refrain from a little frown of irritation. it was not an auspicious beginning. . “ i don’t doubt it,” he went on. “ i saw him save the life of my friend kirk, and i’m grateful to him for it. i want to do some- thing to show that gratitude, understand me? “of course, i can’t do anything for him down here where the law is hunting him, but if i could send word to him to go north and meet me somewhere, there is a good deal that i might do. can you tell me where he is, li clung?” it was only the shadow of a smile that touched the lips of li clung, but john sampson knew at once that the old man would rather die a thousand times than give the location of his son. “ how should i know?” asked li clung, and he raised his calloused hands, palm out. “my son has gone. can i follow the wind?” john sampson smiled and there was a great deal of kindness in his smile. he could not help admiring the old man’s faith- fulness and liking him for it. ness is the one human light which all men recognize independent of race and color and breeding; this time it shone from the face of john sampson and reflected dimly on the face of li clung. “ you are a good man, maybe,” said the chinaman dubiously, “ li clung knows in your house clung was taken.” “but you also know it was not my fault.” ' “ that is true,” admitted li clung. “now, li, i’m going to be straightfor- ward with you. if i can get hold of clung i can do a great deal for him. you want your son to be a wise man, don’t you? now, kind- ' ‘ well, i can see that he goes to the finest schools; i can see that he has clothes as good as any white man; in a word, i can set him up in life.” his first note was the key that unlocked the heart of li clung; for in china, old and new, the one thing most highly prized is education. it is mixed withtheir religion. every chinaman has some of it—not what occidentals call education, perhaps, but at least some mental training. now li clung laid his pipe by on the table and drew a little closer to john sampson. “li clung,” he repeated, “thinks you are a good man, and perhaps he can tell you___!) ' “ but first,” said john sampson, for the last thing he wished to know at that mo- ment was the exact location of the out- law, “ first i must ask you some other questions.” “ come,” said li clung readily enough, and led the way back to his own little rooms behind the laundry. chapter xvi. robin adair. “ n the first place,” went on john samp- son when they were settled in privacy, “ i want to know something abont the —-er—parentage of clung. you see, it isn’t always easy to place a boy of—er—foreign birth in the best schools—” but li clung broke in with a smile and a wave of his hand. “that is a small trouble,” he said, and smiled so that all his yellow fangs showed, and the wrinkled gums above them. “ clung is the son of a white mother—” “ yes,” nodded-sampson, “ his skin shows that much.” “ and a white father," added li clung. “a what?” roared john sampson, and bolted out of his chair. “he is not of my blood,” said the old chinaman sadly, “but he has lived in my house and eaten my food and learned my lessons.” the white man stared at him, transfixed with wonder and a touch of horror. for his daughter winifred had seemed strangely all - story weekly. interested in the outlaw, and had persisted even when she thought him to be only a half-breed chinaman. if she learned that he- was all white john sampson shuddered for the results. there flashed across his mind a picture of his fortune descending through his daughter to the hands of an un- lettered whelp of the desert, a man hunted by the law. “ it's a lie!” he groaned. “li clung,” frowned the chinaman, drawing up to the full of his withered height, “ does not lie.” and the white man knew it was truth; his own anguish of spirit confirmed it, and something he remembered having seen in the eyes of clung on that day when clau- son had made the arrest and when winifred had passed clung without a word of adieu. then a grim resolve came to him to save his girl from the possible horror of the fu- ture through the hand of the law. he shrank from it, but he had done harder things than this in his day, and for lesser reasons. “ where is clung?” he asked at length. li clung observed him with steady eyes. ' “ swear to li clung,” he said, “ that john sampson means only good to clung, that he means to give him schooling and make him a man among men.” the other set‘his teeth and swallowed before he could reply: “ i swear." but li clung hobbled at his burden- bearer’s gait to a corner of the room and took down an old and dusty book from the shelf. - “ the yellow man has his gods and the white man has other gods,” said li clung, and, returning, he placed an open bible before john sampson. “ swear again on this book that you mean only good to clung.” john sampson laid his hand on the crink- ling page of the open book and scowled at the chinaman. the word came up in his throat, up to his very teeth; and there it stuck. his tongue was so dry that he could not have spoken if he wished, and it seemed as if the heat which dried his tongue r se from the book he touched and ran along his arm and up to his heart. “it is a little thing to do,‘ urged li clung gently. “ swear on the book of the white god. my son is hunted; i must know if you are one of the hunters.” but john sampson suddenly raised the book and hurled it across the room. it crashed against the wall and dropped to the floor again with a rush and rattle of the leaves; then he turned on his heel and strode heavily and quickly from the room and out past the swaying line of ironers onto the white-hot street. suppose a man buys a lead-mine and finds that it produces gold; and suppose this gold threatens, like the touch of ideas, to divide the purchaser from all that he holds dear in the world. from these sup- positions one might strike fairly close to the heart of john sampson’s mood. he loved his daughter as a vigorous, worldly man can love an only child; he loved her energy-— so like his ownwher beauty, her frankness; her charm and grace of spirit which il— lumined her in his eyes. her charity, doubtless, went hand in hand with her other virtues, but it was the quality which he ad- mired least and the force which now threat- ened to debase her to the level of an un- lettered man~killer. for the same instinct which enabled him to read the purposes of speculators in the stock-market gave him insight into the im- pulses of the girl. she followed the trail of clung partly because he had received bad for good in a single instance, but most- ly because of the very fact that he was an outlaw, hopeless, beleagured by the hostility of thousands. to her he held the charm of a lost cause; to her he was what ‘a young pretender was to a jacobite; some- thing to be saved and therefore.something to be cherished. only the imagined taint of his blood had kept her from regarding him as a young girl might regard a desirable man; now this single barrier was removed and john sampson sweated with fear as he guessed at consequences. he went straight back to the little house they had rented, to rest and to think; he had a grave need of thdught and planning. but as he set foot on the lowest of the steps leading to the front porch there rose from the depths of the house a voice of clung. thrilling sweetness; to john sampson it was like the bugle call which announces the charge of the enemy’s horse. he drew in a great breath and puffed it out noisily, as a diver snorts when he comes up for air; and the singing of winifred rose and rang in the slow cadence of the old song: “ what made‘the ball so fine? robin adair. ‘what made the assembly shine? robin adair.” the favorite song of winifred, and he knew that she only sang it when her heart was at rest; he leaped up the steps with the agility of a youth and stamped into the house. at the banging of the front door she came to meet him, still singing; but she broke off in the middle of a note and run- ning to him, eagerly caught both his hands in hers. “ dad!” she cried gaily. “ can you guess the good news?” . his heart stood still; perhaps from some other source she had learned the true identi- ty of clung. “ clung?” he managed to articulate in spite of his dry throat. “yes, yes—of course. and i’ve found him! ” h l! “ why, dad, you look sick!” “ the damned heat,” he muttered in impatience. “ enough to kill a horse. where’s clung?” “in kirby creek. we start for it to- morrow.” he ejaculated: “ we start? creek?” “ we do.” “winifred, d’you know that’s the hard- est, roughest mining-camp in the south- west? d’you know that that's the haunt of dave spenser and a hundred other scoun- drels who’d as soon kill you as ask you for a match? what fool suggested that you go to kirby creek?” she sighed, and then fixed her eyes grave- ly on him like one prepared for a long debate. “ no one has suggested it; but it was for kirby marshal clauson who told me that clung might be in kirby creek.” “might?” cried john sampson, seizing on the straw. but it would not bear his weight. “ the marshal is almost sure that clung is there, but he made me promise not to spread the news about. there’s something quite mysterious about it, dad. you see, he would say nothing to me about clung and seemed furious when i mentioned the name of clung. in fact, he called him a blahkety- blank chink.” “ quite right,” growled john sampson. “but,” went on the girl, “when i con- vinced him that i meant nothing but good by clung and told him my reasons he seemed a bit shaken and listened to me pretty closely. at last he told me, in his gruff way, that if i was really anxious to find clung the best way would be to go to the worst bit of hell in the southwest— kirby creek. i asked him how he knew that clung was there. he answered, of course, that he knew nothing, and that if he were sure he’d go to the creek and take clung in the name of the law. then i wanted to know why he gave me the hint, but he only winked and then refused to say another word. it was very queer, but i’m sure that he had some grounds for giving me the advice and i’m also sure that he doesn’t wish any real harm to befall clung. isn’t this enough reason why we should go to kirby creek at once and at least make the trial to find out if clung is there?” john sampson frowned, thinking hard. he said at last: “give me until next monday before we start. in the mean time we’ll hunt for more clues in mortimer.” “ but if we don’t find ’em you will go, dad?” - he looked at her in whimsical despair. “ don’t i understand perfectly, my dear," he answered, “ that if i didn’t go with you, you’d go alone?” “ poor dad!” she smiled. “poor winifred!” he responded. and his seriousness silenced her and set her think~ mg. to be continued next week. don’t forget this magazine is issued weekly, and that you will get the continuation of this story without waiting _a month. ajmond lester vl—the better way “ ut couldn’t one of your clever _ agents steal the paper for me?” , mr. paddington, chief of the pad- dingtor'r & paxton detective agency, stared across his desk. in his long experience, he had met uncounted scores of strange clients, listened to a host of peculiar tales, and been given many unique commissions. never before, though, had he been asked to con- nive at a robbery. not knowing whether to laugh or be angry, he took off his glasses and polished them vigorously. meanwhile, he peered short-sightedly at the thickly veiled lady who had so calmly suggested that he lend his aid to the committal of an illegal act. “i will gladly pay you, any sum you care to mention,” continued his client. mr. paddington jabbed his glasses back on his nose and glared angrily. “i don’t care to mention any price for so preposterous a suggestion,” he snapped. “ really, mrs. wilmot, you must have over- looked the important circumstance that this is a reputable detective agency, not a syn- dicate of burglars.” “ oh! i am so sorry, i did not mean to give offense—i thought that a detective could do anything. that wretch, carr, holds me in his power. he has no moral right to keep that paper.” “ he certainly has not," agreed mr. pad- dington, “' but as he has made no threat or i ° l attempted to blackmail you, our hands are tied. until he makes some move, we cannot even attempt to trap him.” “ but i am sure he will, or he would have given it up. next week, next month, or it may not be for years, he will bring disgrace and ruin upon me. or worse still, he may have calculated upon the possibility of my death and is counting on victimizing and blighting the existence of my daughter. “ the suspense is terrible—killing. i am helpless. surely you can think of some way to help. can’t you do anything?” mrs. wilmot’s hand groped in her bag. there was a flash of white, and a muffled sob came from behind the heavy, black veil. the detective wrinkled his brows and fidgeted with the papers on his desk. in martin paddington, the milk of human kindness had not been desiccated by the friction of a calling where cold appraisal of facts is more useful than a soft heart. “ ought to send her away,” he reflected. “ can’t be done, though. she’s all wrought up. nervous and full of dread. “better hand her over to nan. she’ll let her down lightly, and soothe her into a calmer frame of mind, and maybe the woman will talk more freely. nan has the \knack. confound her, i wish she’d stop crying. h-ml” ‘ in signal that he was about to speak and therefore all sounds of distress should n" - p.., r the greater at last scott, in perfect silence, moved to the pedestal and took the cover from the machine. the apparatus stood quite as before, except that the carriage now rested at the extreme left. the paper was still in place. scott pulled it out. he held it to the light. next instant his fingers twitched, and his hands shook as with the palsy. and in a voice we scarcelyv recognized he read haltingly, , jerkily: \ . “ ‘ the greater miracle is, not that your mind—can survive your body; but that your body—ever existed at all!’ ” the paper fluttered from his grasp. he swayed, and caught the table f ? support. his lips moved convulsively. “ god,” he whispered, as though 'in dreadful pain. i “ god.” ' he stood there, swaying a little and look- ing around uncertainly. for a moment his eyes rested on the typewriter, as if to make sure of its presence; then they wandered aimlessly to the door of carter’s room. he stared, vacantly, at each of us in u u miracle. turn. finally, his gaze shifted slowly back to space; and then, all of a sudden, a wonderful change came to his face. in a flash it became hopeful, assured~joyous! and his eyes lit up marvelously as another word escaped his lips: “ lydia! " he gave a quivering sigh and moved away from the table. the spell was break- ing." avery, who had kept his composure through it all, leaned forward; and with the utmost gentleness he murmured: “ is there anything we can do for you, old man?” ‘ the words had an electric effect. scott straightened; on the instant he became alert, determined, and once more sure of himself. he whipped out his watch. “ yes!" biting the words off as with a knife. “ you may come with me and help me to pack!" “' to pack! " “ to pack!” he snapped the watch shut. “ i leave in one hour for the south, to help fight the plague!” u u yellow butterflies by‘ lllllan p. wilson f we were yellow butterflies, without a tint of care, and only lived from hour to hour, to dance upon the air— _ to flit with glee, from flower to flower, just drifting, with hearts-ease. with nothing sterner on life‘s way, than wings upon the breeze»— to tip and dart, with 'new delights, off with a sunbeam roam, and then joy-tired, spread languid wings upon a soft wind home— if we were yellow butterflies, with no love tears to rue, would you as wholly dear, be mine, tell me, beloved—would you? » fiyélfi author of " the untamed.“ " children of the night.” “ trailil‘,” etc. preceding chapters briefly retold he whites of the arizona town pronounced clung “a no-good chink,“ but they were willing to allow his father, li clung, was a law-abiding laundryman. and pistols to soiled linen. young clung preferred ponies at a public dance he killed josiah boyer, who attempted to eject him from the hall on the ~ score of his color, which, as a matter of fact, was as white as any man's. by stealth he returned to his father's house before he took the long then li clung confessed clung was not his son by blood. li had taken him while yet a done for four meximns. trail. baby after his mother’s death from a man who had ‘grievously wronged him. his heels, clung rode into the desert. previously he had with a pose at later he came to a big ranch-house, where he found winifred sampson, her father, and her fiancé, william kirk. the latter was a querulous invalid, whom clung put to sleep and then cured by the strength of suggestion and a harmless tea. on his recovery kirk sought to marry winifred at once, but she, too, had come under the influence of clung, and refused to be hurried. moreover, kirk had his suspicions, and determined to put clung to the test. kirk called out: “ hands up!” unexpectedly entering a room where clung was occupied with a book, in another moment clung was on the floor behind his chair, and in his hand was a revolver, leveled at kirk. to confirm his suspicions of clung‘s outlawry, kirk had sent to mortimer. the following morning marshal clauson and his men surrounded clung as he appeared in the dining-room with winifred. clung lodged that night in mortimer jail. li clung went to clauson to plead for his son’s life, and told him that clung. was the son of john pemberton, of cripple creek, who had murdered li‘s wife and his two children. later, winifred also came to the marshal to intercede for clung. ‘ clauson told clung of winifred‘s visit and kirk's departure for the nofth. he supplied him with tools, and three hours later clung had taken the south trail. when clauson suffered in popular esteem because of “the escape,“ clung, disguised as yo chai, and with a declaration that he chose to be “ all yellow," offered to surrender himself. when the marshal refused to arrest him, clung declared he was off for kirby creek, where a rich streak was inaugurating a mining-camp in full force. winifred's father learned from the old laundryrnan the secret of. clung's birth, and was determined to keep his daughter free of the man’s enchantment. but winifred announced to him out of a clear sky that they were going to kirby creek to look for clung. chapter xvii. sampson plays for time. and sat for a time with his hot face buried in his hands, then he took pen and paper and wrote to william kirk, far in the northland. no pleasant task, for his wet hand stuck to the surface of the paper: and his thoughts came haltingly. thus he wrote: dear billy: hell has broke loose at last. i wrote you that we were still on the trail of sampson went to his room at once the scoundrel clung; and here in this miserable little oven of mortimer we have stayed all these days, walking these infernal dusty streets; you know this alkali dust that stings your nose and throat like pepper. here we've remained, but to- day the devil. as if he were tired of my rest, rose up and in the language of the streets, hit me where i live. he hit me twice. and both punches, billy, are as hard on you as they are on me. first i went to see li clung, reputed father of our outlaw. i found a withered mummy of an oriental, and began to pump him, but after the first draw i wanted to seal the well. for i learned right off the bat, billy, that clung is not a half-breed at all; there is not a drop of the yellow blood in his veins; he is pure white. v this story began in the all-story weekly for april . clung. might wriggle out of it in that way, but i won’t. the plain, unpleasant truth is that i was jealous of clung.” “ jealous?” “no, no! of-course i don’t mean in that way. but i was jealous of his in- fluence over you, and jealous of the way in which the fellow seemed able to make me out a coarse and stupid fool whenever the three of us were together. i always felt, you see, that he was the silk and i was _the rough-surfaced wool. is that clear?” “ perfectly.” “what a little aristocrat you are, wini- fred! well, now your eyes are scorning me again and you’re commencing to be formal- ly polite.” “ not a bit. but i want to think it over. that’s all. you have to expect that, don’t you, billy?” \ “ i suppose so. take this into considera- tion, too, i was just back from a close call with death and my nerves weren’t very strong. i ask you to realize that i was hardly myself when i made that very rot- ten move, winifred.” “but i have to remember who brought you back from that close call with death, billy.” “exactly! but ingratitude, now and then, is a mighty human failing.” “ a very black one, billy.” “ if it’s persisted in.” “well?” “ i haven’t persisted in mine. i’m going to try to undo in a way what i’ve already done.” “i’m perfectly ready i; believe you.” “ when you see me do it, eh? that’s a man-to-man, straight-from-the-shoulder way to look at it. if i can manage to help clung, will that restore us to something of the old footing?” “ i hope so—_—in a way.” ‘ > “this is straight stuff. three things brought me back to the southwest. now, i know i might make a pretty speech and say that i came only for your sake.” “ please don’t.” “ my dear girl, i know you much too well for that. well, there are two things besides you. the first after you, to be frank, is that i haven‘t got the feel of this dry, keen air out of my lungs. i've been hungry for this country.” ~ ' “ really?” “ sounds queer, i know; but it‘s the desert fever. i’ve been dreaming about the open stretches, the wide skies, and i’ve smelled the sweat of hot horses in my dreams. tried the outdoor life up north, but it wasn’t the same—it hasn’t the same tang.” “ you look wonderfully fit." “ don’t ! hard as a brick, too. that’s from polo and golf. the southwest has left its mark on me. don’t like to stay inside four walls any more. you’d laugh if you knew how i’ve been spending half my time. rigged up a little target-range at my coun- try»place and i’ve spent two and three hours a day there practising with guns. guns have a new meaning after one has seen a fellow like clung make a draw. ' gad! d’you remember how he dropped from his chair to the floor and how those guns of his simply jumped into his hands?” she laughed, excitedly. “ i’ll never forget it, billy.” “ so the first reason i wanted to come south was to live the life again. the last reason is that i want to redeem myself with clung. in a word, winifred, i want to help you hunt for him and find him and put him back on his feet.” “ billy! ”' “ does that please you?” “ billy, this is real man’s talk!” “ if you can use me, tell me where." “we start for a wild mining-camp toq day. by stage.” “ i’ll go.” “it ’ be a godsend to have you. poor dad is worn out with tagging about after me.” “ where is he? i’ll pay my respects.” “ just knock at that door. he‘s dressing now.” and a moment later john sampson found himself staring into the eyes of william kirk. he was singularly changed. he looked, ’ as he had said, perfectly fit and hard as nails. the frame which had been wasted to pitiful gauntness by disease was now filled ‘ all - story weekly. and a mighty bulk of muscles swelled the coat at each shoulder. the sagging mouth had tightened at.the corners with purpose- fulness and the jaw thrust out with mean- ing. these were but the physical changes— these and a deep coat of tan which guaran- teed health. more important still was a cer- tain strong self-confidence in the man’s hearing which went hand in hand with his bulk; of still greater significance was the brightness and steadiness of the eyes, mis- chievous, alert, brave, such eyes as one dislikes to have stare in enmity. “ gad! ” breathed john sampson. “‘how you’ve changed, lad! how you‘ve changed!” - he clapped a hand on either broad shoul- der of the giant, reaching to the level of his own head to do so; and he conjured up, in contrast, the image of clung, frail, delicate-handed, nervous of gesture and gen- tle of eye. this was such an ally as he needed. “ i have.” “ chiefiy—inside?” “ chiefiy inside.” “ i’m glad." “ so am i.” “and clung?" queried sampson cauti- ously. “well?” “ i heard what you said to winifred." “ john sampson, you old fort!” “ and you, billy?" . “ i suppose,” said the other. and shrugged his heavy shoulders, “ that i'll have to play_ the fox, too.” “ for whose sake, billy?” “ damned if i know.” “not your own?” “ to tell you the truth—~” began kirk. “ you seem,” cut in the financier dryly. “ to be bothered a good deal by the truth these days, will.” “ h-m!” growled the big man, and then lifted his eye sharply. ~ “and what if i am? what if iam, sampson? don’t you think it‘s a fairly decent thing to be both- ered by?” ' “ excellent! “ sneered sampson. “ ex- cellent! it will be of great benefit to you, my boy—in the hereafter! " “what an infernal old cynic you are!” “ not a cynic. practical, my lad.” “ that sort of practise—” “ sends men to hell. come, come, billy. between your gun-practise up north you’ve been going to sunday-school, eh?” and he laughed softly. a young man is_not apt to insist upon morals when he finds them scoffed at by his elders. “i‘m not lying to you, sampson,” he protested, reddening. “not a bit,” said the other instantly. “ you’re merely telling me what you think you think. and i suppose that you’re go- ing to do exactly what you said you’d do when, you were talking with winifred. you’re going to help her to find clung.” “ i am,” said the other, and squared his shoulders resolutely. “i owe clung more than that—~more than—” “more than you can ever repay him," nodded the financier. “ and therefore the wise thing is not to attempt to repay any part of it. but you're going to help find him?” “ i am! " “not so loud! well, after you bring the two together you’ll send them a wed- ding-present and then step gracefully out of the picture—and back to your sunday- school?" “ sampson, you'd anger a saint.” “ i hope so." - “ d’you really think that w'inifred—” “when she finds he’s white, lad, the novelty of the thing will knock her off her feet. afterward she’ll have a good many years for repentance, but that won‘t help me—or you. ydu’re still fond of her, billy?" “ hopelessly." “not entirely. patience, billy, accom- plishes strange things with both stock-mar- kets and women. besides, do i have to draw you a picture of what the girl’s life would be with clung? will the world ever accept him as anything other than a half- breed? his blood may bev white, but his mind is oriental, billy. you know that.” “listen,” said the tall man, and frown- ing he shook off the hands of sampson. “if i listen to you any longer i may be clung. '] a hypnotized. i won’t listen. i want to do the right thing.” “of course. so you’re going to begin by running to winifred and telling her that you know clung is white.” kirk was silent. “there‘s the door. room.” still silence from kirk. “ she’ll be glad to hear it; very glad!” kirk seized the knob with sudden resolu- tion, hesitated, and finally slumped into a chair that creaked under the impact of his great weight; he sat regarding sampson with an ominous and steady scowl. “ i suppose,” he muttered at last, “ that you win.” “i knew,” nodded the other, “ that you had not entirely lost your wits; they’ve been merely fmstbitten in the north. wait until your blood circulates and you’ll be reasonable. i’m in no hurry. in the mean time, the thing of importance is to find clung—yes—and then call the law on him before winifred reaches him.” “ a pretty little plan—very pleasant,” sneered kirk. “ by which you are the winner. if clung is gone she’ll turn to you at last.” “ what ’ll make her?” “the habit of having you around. habit, my dear boy, is usually several points stronger than the thing the poets call love.” and he teetered complacently back and forth, from heel to toe, and grinned upon william kirk. the big man sighed. “ i came down here to havea good time,” she’s in the other he said, as if to himself. “ to enjoy a long ' vacation, and incidentally to set myself right in the matter of clung. i seem to be on the way—” “ to just the same sort of a vacation, my lad,” broke in the older man, “ except that instead of putting yourself right with clung you’ll put yourself right with winifred. in the mean time you can play as much as you like—ride your sweating horse—swing your guns—~drink this abominable bar- whisky—and in general, be a happy young fool.” “ there’s acid on your tongue,” grumbled kirk. . “and reason,” nodded sampson. “ after all,” murmured the other, and he frowned into a corner of the room, “ why, not?” chapter xix. gold. s if by mutual consent of horses, driv- er, and passengers, the stage, as it topped the last ascent above the hol- low of kirby creek, came to a halt on the little plateau of the hill-crest. below, clam- bering in a rude swarm like soldiers to an assault, up swept the huts of the town, an astonishing aggregation for so new a place; but they were built without more than an excuse for a foundation—mere lean- tos propped against the steep hillsides. they were pitched like tents wherever the will of the owner decided, and decided has- tily. indeed, there were four tents to every cabin in that little host. as if by casual mutual agreement, the huts and tents were so arranged that here and there a lane was kept open, every one well-worn,even at this early date, for hun- dreds of horses and buckboards and trucks 'rolled into and out of the little town every day. it was new, indeed, but it had grown like a weed; for was not this a very foun- tain-head of the power that waters the works of man? ‘ on the veritable verge of the town men labored at holes in the ground, and down the ravines on every side pick and shovel winked in the keen sunshine as the laborers burrowed at the soil. from this distance the utter silence made the stir the more impressive. then the wind, which had been blowing down the main valley, swerved and blew directly in the face of the stage. slowly up the wind came the sound of the labor. a clicking of metal in it, and the rumble of men’s voices, and now and then the sharper note of a braying burro, or the whinny of a horse, but all subdued and blended by that dis- tance into a murmur no louder than the hum of a bee—an angered bee, heavily laden and struggling against the wind. a dreamlike picture and a dreamlike sound, ugly enough in its way in spite oi all - story weekly. the softening perspective, but the men in the stage sat forward in their seats, and their hands gripped and relaxed automati- cally as if they were already in spirit at- tacking the earth and hunting for treasure. not an eye turned to right or left. they were thinking, each man of himself visions of the “strike,” the rejoicing, the glinting of yellow metal, the sweaty, furious labor, the triumph thereafter, the house in some great city, the soft-footed servants, the eyes of fellow men turned on them in awe. burn- ing it came on them, the dream, the dream of gold. and they were silent and awed. gold! it banished the reality of burned, brown hillsides and the muddy creek far beneath. it raised visions of'columned en- trances, stately ships, beautiful women with jeweled hands and throats: all this of beauty and grace, but the light that it kin- dled in the eyes of the treasure-hunters was a hard, keen fire. not one of the passengers-not john sampson in spite of his great wealth al- ready accumulated, nor william kirk, with the desert fever upon him, nor winifred, with her mission of charity—bpt found himself drawn at a single step to the edge of hate and murder and battle for gold. down the slope and into the city of gold the stage passed.' it rolled on unheeded, for every man on the rude streets was like the' men in the stage; he was looking straight before him with keen, hard eyes, thinking only of himself, the strike he had made, or was to make. or had missed. but already the receivers of gold were mixed with the finders and the spenders. their presence was made known in a hun- dred places. there hobbled a man in chaps, spurs, high boots, below; above he wore _ a long prince albert, a high silk hat, stiff white shirt and carried tan gloves in his hand. but he had made one concession to comfort. he wore no collar. the tailor was there on the heels of gold. here came a woman with vast, red, bare arms—bare to the elbow. she carried a flimsy parasol of blue silk, and twirled it constantly. at every motion of her hand a vow of great diamonds flashed in the sun: and around her throat was a yellow, glimmering chain supporting a glorious ruby. the jewelér was there on the heels of gold. and another woman, sauntering, one hand dropping from her hip and the other raised at the moment to pull her hat a little more jauntily to one side. a man, passing, changed glances with her, stopped, and turned to walk on at her side. she and her kind who follow men over the world, they were here also on the heels of gold. here came two men, arm-in-arm, reeling. alternately they cursed and laughed, then broke into a song of reeking vulgarity. the saloon was there on the heels of gold. and now a large man in dapper clothes with the heavy gold watch~chain across the vast expanse of his stomach and a bright necktie at his throat, walked leisurely, at peace with himself, and his small, bright eyes picked out face after face and lingered on it a single moment like the hawk search- ing the field below for mice. the confi— dence man was there on the heels of gold. passing him, another type—pale, slender, stoop-shouldered, with white hands exceed- ing agile and forever busied with the lapel of his coat, or in pulling out his handker- chief. white hands and strangely agile and swift and sure, the sign of his trade. the gambler is here on the heels of gold. the very air was changed in kirby creek. to breathe it was to breathe hope, chance, danger. it set the blood tingling. all things were possible at once, and nothing was to be too highly prized. the very gold for which men dreamed and prayed and murdered, had lost half its meaning. like alcohol, it make men drunk. a pair leaned against a hitching-rack in front of a saloon. they were tossing coins and matching, and at every throw a twenty- dollar gold piece changed hands. short time before and eachof these would have given a month of hard labor for every one of those pieces of money. and as the stage rolled past, another man came staggering through the doors of that same saloon. by the steps a one-legged man, stretched out his hand for aims. a shower of silver mixed with gold an— swcred, and the drunkard was gone while the beggar's insatiable hand was stretching out once more. clung. william kirk turned to winifred. “ do we stay here?” he asked. “ he is here,” she answered. “ can you trust yourself here among these men?” “ they’re southwesterners, will. i’m safer among them than i would be walking the streets at home with an escort. they will treat me like a sister. besides—” “ well?” “ i like it!” he looked at her in amazement. she seemed to have awakened; her face flushed, her eyes shining with excitement. “ like it?” he repeated, breathless with his surprise. “ all of it!” she answered, and made an all-embracing gesture. “ the dirt, the vul- garity, the cheating, the danger. they’re men—ail men—and all in action, will!” ‘i but such an impossible gang of swine—” he began, and then he stopped short and some of her own fire lighted his eyes. ‘ his blood ran with a thrill, warm and then cold. as she had said, here were men, real men, and all in action. it was the old lure of the desert, stronger, wilder, sharper, but the same. the chances bigger than in the north, the danger greater, and also the reward. and somewhere among those men, he felt, he should find a place for himself. it was the new world, the undiscovered country—hirnself and these. three cen— turies of culture surrounded william kirk, three generations of gentlemanly traditions. at this moment the first century of these traditions dropped away and he tossed it aside as a man might toss off an encumber- ing cloak when he is about to enter a fight for his-life. chapter xx. life! y luck, they found a place to live in within an hour after they reached the town of kirby creek. it was on the outskirts of the town and the most commo- dious dwelling in the village. it had been inhabited by'a prospector and his family. but a few days before, his eldest son had been killed by a blow with a pick-handle in a drunken brawl, and the prospector, in consequence, was leaving the camp. he sold his rights at an outrageous price and the three spent the rest of the day purchasing household furniture at prices running up to ten times that of the real value. a crippled negro was retained for the housework and by nightfall they were eat- ing their first meal in their new residence. it consisted of three rooms. the kitchen, where the negro was to both work and sleep; a room in front used for storage and for the bunks of sampson and kirk; and a third room devoted to winifred. the house had been thrown together rather than built, and whenever the wind . struck it fairly, it shook and trembled and moaned like the haunted castle of some old romance. nevertheless, it was a. shelter and gave them privacy. furthermore, it was on the extreme outskirts of the town, up the ravine, and the noise of the brawling, drunken miners would disturb them less in this spot. hugh williams, the negro, who had served the master of a great plantation in southeastern texas, cooked amazingly well considering the rickety tin stove with which he had to work; and after supper, when it was decided that they should venture forth into the night life of the wild camp, they asked hugh williams to direct them to the best place. his answer was prompt and decisive. “they ain’t no place fit fo’ white gen’l- mun,” said hugh williams. “ no, sir, boss, they ain’t one except that there gam- bling-house the yaller chinaman runs.” “well,” said winifred, “a gambling- house is the real heart of a mining-camp, isn’t it?” . then she murmured to her father: “ be- sides, clung is a half-breed and he might be found near a chinese place.” “ what’s the name of the chinaman, hugh?” asked kirk. “yo chai. he ain’t here long, but i reckon he done won~ mo’ money than any man that’s dug it out’n the ground. he’s a honest chink, boss, an’ they ain’t nobody ever called his games crooked, but such luck i ain’t never seen. no, sir. i was there clung. and the deep, booming laugh of a white man. these were only high points in the gen- eral clamor, for the calls of the “ men-on- the-sticks ” and of the dealers and of the players kept up a continual monotone, brok- en sharply here and there by a snarl of fury, a shout of delight, or the deep groan which announced that one of the players was broke. a tawdy, dim, drunken con- fusion, but here, as over the entire town, there was the glamour of chance which shot the smoky gloom full of rays of gold. it was a colorful assembly, for at- least seventy per cent of the inhabitants of kirby creek were mexicans and all of these were flush, either through the high wages paid to laborers or because they had made their independent strikes. their profits were about equally divided among drink, gam- bling, and clothes—clothes of every sort. brown'faced villains passed in the mantillas of women, yellow, priceless lace. silk shirts of yellow, purple, red, and blue, glowed here and there like so many vfires through the great room; and in between was ever the scintillating play of the hard brilliancy of jewels. the man who makes money easily invests it in diamonds just as his more civ- ilized brother puts it in a bank. it draws no interest, but interest does not attract those who dig raw gold from the common earth. ‘winifred heard the voice of a stranger beside her saying: “ life! by god, here‘s raw life! ” and she turned to look up .into the face of william kirk. it was so changed by the shadows and by the hardening of the mouth and the brightening of the eyes that for the moment she hardly recognized him any more than she had known the sound of his voice. but she laughed, and, throw- ing up her arms, answered: “life, billy!” the sound of her own voice startled her; it was rougher and more strained than she had ever heard it. and she knew, all at once, that the same fierce light which trans- figured the eyes of kirk was also in her own. she turned to her father, to see if he also had caught the fierce fever of the place, half awestricken,-and half amused, and more than half delighted. but her father was not beside her any longer. it sobered her to coldness to miss him, and she cried out to kirk in her alarm. “there he is,” answered the big man, and then laughed deeply, a boom and roar of sound, exultant. “ there he is; he's in the fire, winifred!" the comfortably plump back of her father, indeed, was at that moment settling into a chair at the central table. chapter xxi. the gun play. his central table stood apart from the rest of the gambling-hall; no matter how high the riot rang through the 'rest of the place. no matter what bright hosts of gaudy mexicans drifted like au- tumn leaves through shadow and light, in this central space, voices hushed, and it was surrounded by an atmosphere of corn- paratively quiet dignity. whereas the rest of the floor was thickly strewn with sawdust, which served the double purpose of cleanliness and of muf- fiing the fall of heels, the central table was supported by a dais, spread with indian blankets of price and rising a foot higher than the common boards. on the dais was a round table capable of accommodating five people in comfort, and no more were ever allowed to sit there. moreover, a man had to show at least a thousand dollars in gold currency or in dust before he was al- lowed to sit in on the game, which was al- ways draw poker. 'one of these chairs had been recently vacated by a disgruntled loser, and into his place stepped john sampson. the glance of winifred passed from her father to the loser who had just left the chair. he was a mexican, and she saw his face clearly, for the dais was brightly illumined by half a dozen lanterns hanging from the surrounding posts. she saw a com- plexion, somewhere between brown and black, with the wide, heavy lips, the blunt nose, and the cruelly high cheek-bones which told a plain story of predominate indian blood. that face was further darkened now by a malevolent scowl which shifted gleaming all - story weekly. back toward the table and then returned darkly to the front. the mexican joined a compatriot who leaned against one of the posts. the lantern overhead cast a black shadow which swallowed up the pair im- mediately, but when they moved on toward the bar she made out that the second mexi- can was wrapped to the ears in a gay blanket. the loser made many geaures as they walked, speaking with his lips close to ' the ear of his companion. winifred turned to william kirk. ‘ “ see those two?” she asked. “ the greasers?” “yes. they mean mischief. one of them has lost a good deal of money, i take it, and he means to try to get some of it back.” “bah!”’smiled kirk. “a mexican is always like a child. he sulks when he loses, but he never strikes while his father’s face is toward him.” _ “ nevertheless,” she said, “ it looks dan- gerous to me, and i want to get dad out of here before any shooting starts.” at that kirk stiffened, his big shoulders going back, and his face altered to a singu- lar ugliness. at the best he wasmot a handsome man, with his heavily defined fea- tures, but now, at the mention of shooting, his lips twisted back into a mirthless laugh, like the silent grin of a wolfhound, and his eyes lighted evilly. she remembered what he had said of practising with his guns every day when he had been at his home in the north. she believed it now, for he made her think of the boy who has learned to box and goes' about among his conipanions looking for trouble. his glance swept around the room, lingering an instant on the more marked faces, and then it re- tumed to the two mexicans, who by this time were leaning against the bar, drinking, and talking earnestly, their heads close to- gether. “ leave this to me,” said william kirk, and his voice was dry with a peculiarly harsh command. “'if there’s trouble there’s no reason why i can’t take care of your father. in the mean time, he’s robbing the robbers. look!” it was the end of a hand, and john sump-- son was methodically raking from the cen- ter of the table a great heap of chips—a big winning. other fades at the table turned enviously toward the new, successful play- er, but the dealer remained unmoved. she noticed first the yellow, slender fin- gers flying over the cards as he shuffled and then the small, round wrists twisting as he dealt the next hand. she had never seen greater suppleness and grace. looking up above the hands she encountered the face of a middle-aged chinaman wearing a crimson skull-mp with a black tassel. for the first moment she noted only the garb of the man, a loose robe of a color some- where between violet and purple, and heav- ily brocaded with gold~the wide, trailing sleeves made the slender grace of the wrists more apparent. here, certainly, was yo chai, the owner, and now she studied his face carefully. the eyebrows were highly and plaintiver arched, and a purple shadow on both the upper and lower lids made his eyes seem deeply sunken. the lines running from the eyes, together with the arch of the brows, gave a touch of weary wistfulness to the man’s expression, so that she felt that she could have stood for an hour and lost herself in the study of the face. from the upper lip straggled the sparse, black hairs of a typical chinaman’s mustache; but the mouth itself was finelyand thought- fully formed and the other features deli- cately chiseled. his expression was so de- void of life that he seemed rather a budd- hist rapt in mystic contemplation than a chinese gambler concentrating on a game. it seemed that kirk had followed the steady direction of her glance, for he mut- tered now: “ rum old bird, isn’t he? seem to me i’ve seen him before. i suppose it’s yo chai?” as if to answer him, a miner dressed like a cowboy, at that moment mounted the dais and stood beside the dealer, shift- ing his hat awkwardly on his head. the chinaman turned and the white man leaned down to whisper in his ear. at that the dealer nodded, pulled out a long purse of wire net, embroidered with the figure of a flashing dragon, and handed the other-sev- eral ooins. the white man shook hands enthusiastically and departed. all- story weekly. / was unchanged; he might have been rising to bid them a calm good night. but wini- fred, watching him closely, started as though some one had shouted at her car. what she saw, indeed, was not so much the middle-aged face, and the rather shrunken, bowed shoulders, but the exceed- ing grace of the narrow wrists of the china- man and the transparent frailty of the hands. already the crowd was leaving the scene of the firing and drifting back toward their original tables; william kirk, who had run toward the spot, now returned, bringing john sampson with him. she ran a few paces to 'meet them and caught her father by the arm with both her. excited hands. “ do’you know who that was?” she cried. “ do you know who that was?” themshe stopped the full tide of speech that was tumbling to her lips; a suspicion froze up her utterance. “ who?” asked the two men at the same time. “ i don’t know. answered. “ sounded to me," said william kirk, “as if you were about to tell us some- i’m asking you,” she thing. ~whom do you want to know about?” and she lied deliberately, for she knew all at once that she must not tell either of these men her suspieion about yo chai. “ i think one of those mexicans was a fellow i’ve seen in mortimer.” “really?” grunted her- father. “ well, he’s a dead one now.” “not a bit of it,” said kirk. “that was a nice bit of gun-play on the part of the chinaman. d’you know where he shot those two fellows?” “ where?” “ drilled ’em squarely through the right hip—each one. they’ll both live, and they’ll both be cripples for life. whefi you come down to it, sampson, that‘s etter revenge than killing the beggars, eh?” “ maybe,” said the'older man, “ but let’s - get out of here.” “why?” said kirk, frowning. “ this place just begins to look good to me." and: “ why?” asked winifred. “ i agree with billy!” ~ “because,” said her father, “if i stay i’ve got to go back to that game, and this is a good excuse for me to get away from the cards. that yo chai has bewitched ’em, billy!” it was strange to see how the environ- ment of the mining-camp had gained upon these three. each was the inheritor of centuries of pacific culture, but half a day had moved them back a thousand years toward the primitive. in their nostrils was still the scent of powder; in their minds was still the picture of the falling men through whose flesh and bones the bullets had driven: yet they had already closed their senses to the neamess of death. a tale which in the telling would have kept them agape in their drawing-rooms, in the ac- tuality was a chance to be seen and for- gotten. ten centuries of refinement, of polish, were brushed away, and the brute with slope forehead and fanglike teeth rose in each of them. in the older man it held the longest and moved him to leave the place as soon as possible. in the others it was merely a stimulus; but though they heard and felt the call of the wild, theylwere not yet of the wilderness. they followed john samp- son slowly from the gambling-house of y chai. at the door, when they looked back, they saw yo chai settling back into his chair with the extra man already in the chair of sampson. “by the lord!” growled the financier. “ i’ve left like the greaser before me, beaten and sulky; and there’s my successor ready for the bait! ” and then he led the way, grinning, from the house, for to be beaten was so great a novelty to him that it was not altogether displeasing. they took the course for their shack and hugh williams; they walked in such silence that finally john sampson asked: “ what you thinking of?” “ yo chai,” they answered in one voice, and then laughed at their unanimity. “ y chai," chimed in sampson, “but it’s the first time in a month, winifred, that you’ve got your thoughts away from the—half- breed.” - and he glanced at william kirk. “his blood,” said the girl calmly. “is nothing against him. it’s not of his choos- ing. besides, he’s whiter than most.” clun g. " a remark which left the other two strangely silent, and in that silence they reached their cabin, and went to their rooms at once, for it had been a hard day. but when the voices of her father and kirk died away in the next room and the bunks creaked for the last time as they turned and twisted about finding comfortable sleep- ing positions, winifred remained awake, sit- ting on the edge of her bed: for her mind was haunted by a picture of singular vivid- ness—the face of y chai as he shoved back his chair, slowly, his head tilted, his eyes half closed like one who basks in the sun, a smile of mysterious meaning touch- ing his lips. it grew on her with astound- ing vigor and made another name grow up in her memory—clung! she had been on the verge of imparting her thought to kirk back-there in the gaming-house, but some- thing had held her back with the force of a single thread of caution. now the over-mastering curiosity was too great for her. the impulse to go back to the gaming-house, confront the impassive face of y chai; and tax him with being clung disguised, swelled in freshening pulses in her blood. as the precipitate hangs cloudy in the acid, waiting only the presence of some foreign substance before it dropsflto the bottom of the glass, so,the impulse to go back to yo chai hung in the mind of wini- fred. and the deciding force, oddly enough, was a sudden creaking of a bunk in the next room. at once she knew that she must go, alone, and at once. it would be a great ad— venture; she felt that she could trust her- self implicitly with the roughest of those southwesterners; if it was a cold trail she would escape the ridicule of her father if she dragged him back to the gaming-house: if it was the true trail she would have all the glory of the discovery in the morning. besides, while clung might reveal himself to her, it was very doubtful that he would acknowledge his identity in front of her father. and so, at the creaking of ‘the bunk in the next room, she rose straight from the bed and went to the window. it was close to the ground and already open. through it blew the night wind softly, inviting her out; and beyond glowed the confiding stars and the lower, redder lights of the town. she slipped at once through the window, went to the shack which served as a stable, saddled her horse hastily, and rode down the trail toward kirby creek. the creaking f the bunk was caused by one who, like winifred, had not been able to sleep because of something he had seen that night in the house of y chai. it was kirk, and the vision which haunted him had nothing to do with the yellow face of y chai, but with the roulette~wheel, spin~ ning brightly, clicking with a rapid whir to a stop, and then the droning voice which called the number and the color: “eleven on the red~black five—eleven red—black two——eleven on the red." it suddenly recurred to him that eleven had come many times on the red—four times as often as any other figure. he sat up sweating» with excited eagerness. what a dolt he had been not to venture a few dollars on the wheel! not that he needed money, but the excitement—the great chance—~he might— \ but by this time he was sitting bolt upright on the edge of his bunk, grinding his teeth and cursing softly in the dark. the heavy snore of john sampson broke in upon him and he felt a great impulse to take the older man by the throat and choke off the noise. he began dressing hastily. the gaming-house ran all night and ‘he might as well take a whirl at the roulette—wheel as lie awake and think about it until morning. his hands began to trem- ble so that he found it difficult to tie his shoes. .then he tiptoed cautiously across the floor. there was little need of such silence, for john sampson was a redoubtable sleeper. as kirk opened the front door he heard the clatter of a galloping horse speed away over the soft sod, and looking quickly to the side he saw what seemed the fantom of winifred speeding through the night. he almost cried out to her, but an instant of thought made him check the sound as a foolish impulse. yet the figure had seemed so familiar that he could not help walking to the side of the house and peering into the room of the girl. it was faintly lighted —very faintly, but he made out with per- fect certainty that the covers of the narrow . all - story weekly. bed were too straight to conceal any sleeper. his breath went from him, and he turned and stared down the valley toward kirby creek. then he ran to the stable, sad- died, and bore at a full gallop for the town. ’ chapter xxiii. the house of yo chai. he first thing the eyes of winifred sought when she reentered the gam~ ing-house was the high central table, but at it the form of y chai no longer appeared; a white dealer sat in his place. the beating of her heart decreased by a dozen strokes to the minute. she stopped one of the chinese waiters: “ where catchum y chai, john?” “ y chai catchum home,” said the waiter. “ catchum sleep.” “ how long?” “ maybe fi’ minute.” . u “ ’loun’ corner. lil square house. may- be john show?" his eyebrows raised in inquisition, and the ,girl slipped a fifty-cent piece into his hand. if sure,” quick.” and he led her to a side door, from which -he pointed to a low, square building at the back of the large gaming-house. even as she looked lights appeared in two little win- dows. it was as if the place had awakened and were staring at her with ominous, red eyes through the darkness. the waiter dis- appeared and she felt a great need of reen- forcement; to face y chai in the public gaming-house was one thing; to heard the lion in his secret, oriental den was an affair of quite another color. into her mind boiled a thousand ugly tales about chinamen and their haunts. she forced these fears back with a use of simple reason. through the walls of any of these shacks her voice would ring out for a hundred feet, and the first murmur of a white woman’s voice would bring a score of men to her help. before her courage cooled she went straight to the door of the little house and said the waiter. “plenty seized the knocker and rapped. while her fingers still clung to it, she saw that it was of brass, hanging from the mouth of a brazen dragon that writhed down the face of the door, his scales glinting here and there as if with inherent light. not a pleas- ant sight. she regretted sharply that she had touched the knocker, and had already withdrawn a step when the door opened. it swung a foot or so wide and no one ap- peared at the opening. then, as if the opener decided that he might safely show himself, a chinaman, tall and of prodigious bulk, evidently a manchurian, stepped out before her and stood with his hands shoved into his capacious sleeves—sleeves that might have contained a whole armory of knives and revolvers. he frowned upon her, so that her knees shook. and because she knew her knees were shaking nothing in the world could have induced her now to draw back from her purpose. “ white girl lose plenty money,” boomed the big oriental. “ yo chai not help. yo chai lose plenty money, too. too bad. catch bad-luck devil.” he stepped back through the door. “ wait," called winifred eagerly, and she stepped close to the guardian. “white girl got plenty money. want see yo chai. maybe pay yo chai much money.” but the guard was not to be moved by eyes that would have shaken the firmness of any ruffian in kirby creek. “ yo chai maybe sleep. _\' can see.” and he began to close the door when a singsong current of chinese began from the deeps of the house. chinese, but it made winifred rise almost to tiptoes with eagerness. she thought that she recognized that voice. the doorkeeper turned his head and answered over his shoulder the speaker from within. he turned back, regarded the girl with a keen scrutiny, and' then added something more to the inquirer—evidently a description. there came a sharp voice of command and the guard stepped surlily back from the door, motioning her mutely to enter. she slipped past him at once and found herself in a little, boxlike hall. on the wall opposite her hung a tapestry of shimmering clun g. . “ call them,” he repeated, “ or else i will go with you alone. be quick before the mind of clung changes. quick! there is a reward on the head of clung!” “ oh, clung!” she said at last, and she threw out her hands toward him. “ do you think i have come to betray you?” “ who will call it that?” he answered in his soft, flawless english. “ clung is a dog of a chinaman.” “ i said it when i was afraid," she pleaded. “i thought—the door closed be— hind me—the big man acted as if he were making a prisoner of me. clung, forgive me!” “ clung has forgotten,” he said quietly. “but he will not forgive?” she asked wistfully. “ no more than you would ever forgive 'that day when marshal clauson came to my father’s house and took you. clung, do you know that i had no part in that?” “ clung has forgotten,” be repeated with the same calm. ' she sighed. then, eagerly: “but we don’t ask you to forgive us so easily. do you know that kirk has come from the north to help me find you and make some amends for what he did?” “it is good,” said clung. and he smiled. “and when i passed you in the room that day,” she went on hurriedly, “ it wasn’t because i was not sorry for you, but— i had been thinking of you in another way, and—and—” “ it is very clear,” he said. “ a child could understand. you thought'clung was a man, and you found he was only a china- man.” “ i see,” she said sadly, “ you will never forgive me, clung.” “ clung has forgotten,” he repeated. she bent her head. “ after all,” she said, “ what can we offer you? my father has wanted to send you north and put you in some fine school. but i see how foolish all that is. you could never go to such a place.” “ my father is li clung,” he said. she winced, and seeing that, his head went back in the old familiar way and the lazy, smile touched his lips. - “ my father is li clung, and he has taught clung what a chinaman should know: the prayers of heaven and earth and the teachings of confucius. it is well; it is ended. clung has learned a little. he shall learn more hereafter.” she began to speak, but finding his eyes fixed once more on the infinity behind her the words died at her lips. “ there is nothing i can do,” she said. “ i see that all my hunt has been foolish. but if you should ever be taken again, i want you to send for us and we will get everything for you that money can buy— the best of lawyers and the influence of white men.” he bowed until the pigtail once more tapped on the floor, and it was the sight of that shining, silken length of hair that con; vinced her of the unsurpassable barrier be- tween them. “ when a white man wishes to show that he bears no ill feelings for another man,” she said, “ he shakes hands when he de- parts. will you shake hands with me, clung?” “it is good,” said clung, and held out his hand. the fingers were cold and life- less'to her touch; she withdrew her hand hastily and turned to the door. but there an overwhelming sadness stopped her. she went back to him with quick steps. “ i know now why i have hunted so hard for you, clung,” she said. “it isn’t because i can give you anything, but be- cause you can give me ,so much. to-night we are parting. i shall never see you again. can’t we have one more talk like the ones we used to have?” he said: “ many words have little mean~ ings.” and she laughed: “ that is just like the old times. if you don’t want to talk, let’s have one of our old silences, clung.” he bowed, and pointed on the floor to a; comfortable heap of cushions facing his own. they took their places, and for a time the silence went on like a river, and winifred began to grow almost breathless. it seemed as if clung were slipping away from her_with every instant, and as if yo chai were growing up more vividly and really in his place. at length he picked up. a-s we”? i / charles b. stiison a desperate race with an unseen fear, pitched from the brink of a tremen- dous precipice, gyrated end over end through several hundred feet of breathless nothing- ness, and fetched up with a sickening plump. not relaxing for an instant his death grip on the pillow which he had clutched against his abdomen, bill set his bare feet out on the comforting and tangible coolness of hardwood flooring, padded across it to his bedroom window, and looked out at the calm moonlight and the questioning stars. bill’s big chest—he wore a seventeen shirt—was heaving and falling by hitches; his hair was moist with the dew of terror, and his light pajamas were as hot and damp as though he had passed through a jet of steam. “ wow!" he ejaculated, mopping his face with the pillow-case. “ wow! twice! that’s the first time a welsh rarebit ever backfired at me! i haven’t dreamed of falling like that since i used to roll mar- bles!" aware of the pillow in his tight embrace, he let it fall on the floor. and kicked at it with his bare toes. with a catch in his breath and consider- able real distress in the region of his heart. prentice sat for a while in the morris chair beside the window. with a shrug and a laugh, he eventually picked up his trusty pillow and groped back to bed. smilixg bill prentice, running as a child, bill often had dreamed of falling. every child does. beyond a squall of affright, or a bump on the floor if the dream happens to be particularly convinc- ing, the youngsters seem to be none the worse for such nocturnal adventures. but when grown persons begin to plunge from dizzy heights in their slumbers, or loop the loop without benefit of plane or parachute, they are apt to become suddenly solicitous concerning their cardiac action; and usually the family physician reaps some benefit. bill, having no family, and having been all his life almost offensively healthful, had no family physician. when his pillows be~ gan to be haunted by “ drop the dips " and “ shoot the chutes " and other aerial maneu- vers—for the first was the precursor of many—he was not immediately troubled thereby, kept the matter to himself, and continued to tread the even tenor of late suppers, matutinal fox~trots,et ceterapvhich made up his bachelor existence outside of the hours passed as the hustling assistant sales-manager of courser motors, inc. cobbert, bill’s superior, a sallow, dyspep- tic chap, saturated with symptoms and pes- simism—when he wasn‘t talking car—had been almost resentfully envious of his young assistant’s perennial high spirits. spring-apple cheeks, and 'seemingly bound- less capacity for 'work. cobbert had the eye of a lynx for dark circles, the telltale twitch of a finger, or any other of the hun- (gee/q) marx brarxd author of " the untamed,” " children of the night,” “ 'l'rlllhl'." etc. preceding chapters briefly retold he whites of the arizona town pronounced clung “ a no-good chink," but they were willing to allow his father, li clung, was a law-abiding laundryman. young clung preferred ponies and pistols to soiled linen. at a. public dance he killed josiah boyer, who attempted to eject him from the hall on the score of his color, which, as a matter of fact, was as white as any man‘s. previously he had done for four mexicans. by stealth he returned to his father’s house before he took the long trail. then li clung confessed clung was not his son by blood. li had taken him while yet a baby after his mother’s death from a man who had grievously wronged him. with a pose at his heels, clung rode into the desert. later he came to a big ranch-house, where he found winifred sampson, her father, and her fiance, william kirk. the latter was a querulous invalid, whom clung put to sleep and then cured by the strength of suggestion and a harmless tea. on his recovery kirk sought to marry winifred at once, but she, too, had come under the influence of clung, and refused to be hurried. moreover, kirk had his suspicious, and determined to put clung to the test. unexpectedly entering a room where clung was occupied with a book, kirk called out: “hands up!" in another moment clung was on the floor behind his chair, and in his hand was a revolver, leveled at kirk. to confirm his suspicions of clung’s outlawry, kirk had sent to mortimer. the following morning marshal clauson and his men surrounded clung as he appeared in the dining-room with winifred. clung lodged that night in mortimer jail. li clung went to clauson to plead for his son’s life, and told him that clung was the son of john pemberton, of cripple creek, who had murdered li's wife and his two children. later, winifred also came to the marshal to intercede for clung. clauson told clung of winifred’s visit and kirk’s departure for the north. he supplied him with tools, and three hours later clung had taken the south trail. when clauson suffered in popular esteem because of “the escape,” clung, disguised as yo chai, and with a declaration that he chose to be “all yellow," offered to surrender himself. when the marshal refused to arrest him, clung declared he was off for kirby creek, where a rich streak was inaugurating a mining-camp in full force. winifred’s father teamed from the old laundryman the secret of clung’s birth, and was determined to keep his daughter free of the man’s enchantment. but winifred announced to him out of a clear sky that they were going to kirby creek to look for clung. sampson wrote an urgent letter to kirk and invited him south. then he feigned sickness and went to bed to keep winifred in mortimer. on the day slated for his recovery kirk appared at their house. he placed his services at the disposal of winifred in her search for clung. sampson upbraided him for his chivalry, and then kirk agreed to help him turn over the half-breed to the law. they went together to kirby creek and settled in a house on the outskirts of the camp, with hugh williams, a colored cripple, for cook. from him they learned of the gambling-house of y chai, which they decided to expiore for themselves. sampson took the place of a mexican at the big poker game in the center of the room, and winifred shortly after looked up to see two evil greasers, with drawn guns, directly behind yo chai's chair. the thing happened quick as lightning. yo chai drilled the two mexicans through the hip, and then resumed his seat. as his wide sleeves fell back, winifred remarked his slender wrists and his lean arms, and her mind leaped to a conclusion. that night, after the house retired, winifred rose, dressed, and quietly slipped out and saddled her horse. she was determined to learn something more about yo chai. kirk also found he wanted to try the roulette-wheel again, and as he came out of the house he saw the retreating figure of a girl who reminded him of winifred. he looked into her window, and then he knew. this story began in the all-story weekly for april . x clung. not finding yo chai at his gambling palace, she sought him_at his house. here she found the end of her quest and the beginning of love. when she left clung's house he saw her retreating figure swerve aside to avoid a large man on a tall horse. the man followed. then clung raced for his own horse, which was saddled day and night, and began to make up the ground which separated him from the girl and the big man. chapter xxv. roulette. hen kirk left their shanty, a little distance from the outskirts of kirby creek, he had ridden fiercely down the ravine toward the heart of town. he had little hope of gaining upon winifred; he was not even sure of her destination, but he felt reasonably cer- tain that the same impulse which had taken him out of his bed was that which sent the girl on ahead of him. he headed at a racing pace straight for yo chai’s gambling house and pulled up before it with clattering hoofs. from the door he scanned the house swiftly but could not catch a glimpse of winifred. there were other women in sight, plenty of them, but most of them had the dark skin of the kirk made a rapid detour of the house and paused at each table to sur- vey the faces of the gamesters. it seemed impossible that the girl could have gone to any other place. but she was not to be found. wherever she had gone, he had wasted too much time in the gaming house of y chai to be able to trail her in a night such as this. he decided, finally, that she had followed some, nervous, wom- anly impulse and ridden out into the night to find quiet. he did not understand her ——he understood no woman, for that matter' —and be readily dismissed the matter from his mind. there was little danger that she could come to any positive harm at the hands of these chivalrous southwesterners. the mexicans were a different matter, but she would certainly have sense enough to keep away from them. perhaps kirk would have made a more extensive search, but it happened that as he completed his first round of the gaming house his eye caught the whirling glitter of the roulette wheel and he stopped, fasci- nated. no one won: the man behind the wheel raked in several piles of money which lay stacked on the board before the wheel. between the vast sombrero of a mexican and the cap of a portuguese laborer, he pushed his way to the roulette wheel and watched the next chance. the wheel stop- ped, and as if it were a plea for him to remain, the number was the red eleven. this time at least half the gamblers were playing the colors and a number of them cashed in on the red. kirk watched them with keen interest. the eyes of the little portuguese bulged with a permanent excitement and he was continually moistening the palest lips kirk had ever seen—an ashen color as if they had been burned with an acid; the bulging eyes were conscious of nothing but the wheel. as for the mexican, he, also, kept an unchanging gaze fixed on the bright wheel, and his eyes glittered like a snake’s. yet he played with a sneer, as if he scorned to either win or lose. he was staking everything on one number, the black five, and his stake was invariably a five-dollar gold piece. he never won. that accounted for the steady sneer with which he played; it ac- counted also for the terrible glitter in his eyes. his money was nearly gone, yet he had carried to the gaming house that night all his own little fortune and the plunder of a robbed and murdered comrade. here the price of the murder was slipping from him. even as kirk stood there the mexi— can fumbled in vain through his pockets, and at last produced a beautiful gold watch for which the man behind the wheel al- lowed him a hundred dollars. it was a last, glorious stake. it went the way of the rest. the mexican turned and stalked silently away; before morning another mur- der would lie to his credit; before twenty- four hours he would be swinging from a a tree with a dozen men pulling on his rope. some sense of all this flashed through' the mind of kirk. also a touch of scorn. he felt a supreme confidence that he would beat this game. he pulled two twenty- - all- story weekly. dollar gold pieces from his pocket and placed them on the red eleven. the wheel spun, whirred to a stop. it was on his number; and the man behind the wheel made a little pause while he counted out the win. a stake on a single number paid thirty-six for one. nearly fifteen hundred dollars in gold was counted with lightning speed and shoved across the board to him. and kirk, in his exultation, stared from face to face in a grinning search for envy or wonder. he found neither. one or two blank eyes glanced up to him, but no one acknowledged his luck; there was merely a general discontent that the game should have been delayed to pay this win- ning. some one suggested in a growl that there should be two players on the wheel. the man who made the suggestion was a little fellow without noticeable eyebrows, a re- treating chin, and large, cowlike eyes. for two days he had been playing the wheel steadily, a dollar at a time, trying out a' system. already his system had cost him a thousand dollars; but he cared not for that; when he solved the problem all the wealth of y chai would be his in a single heart-breaking, glorious evening. some- times his lips twitched back, but he was too intent on the wheel to actually laugh aloud. kirk waited for four spins of the wheel. then he laid a hundred dollars on the red eleven. once more he won, and this time the houseman glanced up sharply and con- sidered the gambler with a moment’s care before he paid. slowly, this time—almost painfully. he passed thirty-six hundred dollars across the board to kirk. and in the meantime every eye was upon him and there were no complaints for the waste of time. to have won once, no matter what amount, was nothing. blind luck ac- counted for that, no doubt. but to- win big, twice in succession and on the same number—it bore a suggestion that some- thing more than luck was involved-a sys- tem, the dream of the gambler’s heart. the very possibility warmed every one’s heart. for every man’s hand is against the house. the men nodded'to william kirk; they smiled; they bade him good evening as if they saw him for the first time; they let their eyes dwell on his face as if they were anxious to remember it. and a tall, blond man, fully as large as kirk, said: “a few more wins like that, my friend, and you’ll have a little chat with dave spenser before you get home to-night.” a chuckle answered this sally. “ and who’s dave spenser?” asked kirk, carelessly. “why,” said the blond man, who stood apart from the game rolling cigarette after cigarette and looking on at the losses and the winnings— “ why, they say he’s a chap about your size, and he seems to know all about who wins big money here at yo chai’s. but haven’t you heard of dave spenser?” “ i think i have,” nodded kirk, and as he spoke, with careless ostentation he piled a thousand dollars on the red to win. “ bandit sort of chap, isn’t he?” “ i’ll tell a man,” said the big blond fel- low with a sort of dry enthusiasm. “ i’ll say he’s a bandit, eh?” a snarl answered him from the players. the snarl was cut short, for william kirk had won again; they looked at him now with a wonder, half anxiety and half joy. with one accord every one ceased laying wagers. kirk had won three straight ven- tures. even the chinless man stopped his experiments and stood juggling his inevita- ble silver dollar while his big eyes fixed wistfully on the winner. “ for that matter,” said kirk, thrilling t the sensation he was causing, and allowing his original stake and his late winnings to lie still upon the red—“ for that matter, sir, i’d rather like to meet this dave spenser. i think they call him the night hawk, also?” “you’ll know him when you see him,” said the blond man coldly. “he rides a black horse—~and i hope you'll be able to tell us what he looks like. nobody’s ever seen his face. i wouldn’t be surprised,” he added for the wheel once more stopped on the red—— “ i wouldn't be surprised if you do meet the night hawk to-night. every man who goes out of here with more clung. ' than five thousand seems to be in danger. but of course you’ll stay close about camp to-night?” “do you think so?” said kirk scorn- fully, and without more than glancing down he raked up the gold of his winnings in handfuls. “ i ride out of camp and up the ravine, and i do it to-night. what’s more, my friend, i’ll be taking about ten thou- sand with me.” “ well,” said the big blond stranger, and he shrugged his shoulders carelessly, “ i’ve warned you. the night hawk is fast with his gun.” “ perhaps,” answered - kirk. beat my luck to-night.” “ i wonder if he couldn’t?” said the other. “i’ve a mind that spenser would try his hand.” “ he can’t kirk, for answer, chuckled scornfullyt and placed'his next wager, a veritable little mountain of gold. it was on the black, and the black won. by this time news of the big gaming had spread about in a whis- pering rumor and men stood in ranks six deep to watch kirk rake in his winnings. the houseman was sweating with anxi- ety and he stared at the newcomers in a way half-baffled and half-defiant. yet he kept his voice cheerful. “once more,” he called, grinning at kirk. “ let the coin lie, stranger, and try your chances once more. the wheel’s with you to-night and you’ve got an even break.” “ not ,me," answered kirk. a night of it.” he ’crammed the last of his winnings into his money-belt. “besides,” he continued, as he turned away, “‘i’ve got enough bait to make the night hawk bite, partners, so i’m off.” “ i’ve made chapter xxvi. a stern chase. e shouldered his way through the spectators, a murmur of applause following him, for they love nothing in the southwest so much as a graceful winner, or vice versa. when an old beg- gar woman stretched out her hand to him at the door of the house, he brimmed it! with gold, and it was as if he placed a crown on his own reputation. the aps plause behind him was almost a cheer. it set a tingling in the ears of william kirk to hear it; it made him square his massive shoulders and walk with something of a swagger; he would never have dreamed that the applause of these rough men could mean so much to him. but he was to make three steps backward toward the primitive and he had already taken the first step. after all, the need for- careful english and proper clothes is a shallow necessity. he wm breaking from conven- tion rapidly. two great strides remained before him. the thought. of the night hawk was before- him as he swung' into his saddle, and he reined his mount and kept .him at a standstill to enjoy the elastic prancing of the steed. it was a fine animal, as fast and as durable as any in kirby creek, with a strength to support the bulk of william kirk and the agility of a polo pony. he was about to touch his horse with the spurs and set out for home when the door of a house at the rear of the gaming establishment opened and the figure of a woman passed down the front step. into the lighted square stepped the figure of y chai, bowing until his long pigtail swept toward the floor; and now the wom- an turned, the light struck her face in pro- file, and kirk recognized winifred. if his heart went cold its heat also quicke ened amazingly. it was beyond compre- hension: why had she gone to talk with the squint-eyed oriental? then he knew. it was because of clung. and it meant, moreover, that she wanted to see yo chai in secret; that she did not trust either her father or himself. at that william kirk swore with a sudden violence and bared his teeth in the night. winifred was in the saddle, waving back to the chinaman in the doorway, and kirk spurred his horse alongside. “ what’s the meaning of all this, wini- fred?” he called angrily. she jerked her head toward him with a cry of panic, then swerved her horse away and went racing through the dimly-lighted 'all- story weekly. street. he spurred after her, stiil cursing; a group of half-drunken men staggered out zfrom the pavement; he thundered through them with loose rein, and they shrank from the horse with shrill shrieks of terror. but at the next corner a cart swung across the street, so suddenly that he had to pull his horse back on its haunches to avoid a ruin- ous crash. he loosed a triple-jointed in- ,vective at the head of the cart-driver and swerved around the wagon to follow his pursuit. but already winifred was a dimly-bob- bing shape in the distance of the night, and as he followed her out of the town he was still.growling. perhaps she would be out of the saddle and in her room before he got to the house, and in that case she might deny that she had been out that night at all. he could not accuse her if she wished to deny, and he felt, strangely enough, as if he were surrendering some sort of impalpable advantage over her. it was because he rode so furiously, per- haps, with lowered head, that a horseman was able to ride out directly into his path. he was past the outskirts of kirby creek and already the shack was a black spot in the darkness ahead when a voice shouted ‘at him. he looked up in time to catch the gleam of steel by the starlight, and threw his weight back against the reins. yet in his blind irritation he had no thought of surrender. a black horse surmounted by a white-masked rider faced him. “ hands up!" called the night hawk. and kirk whipped up his hands, but in one of them came his revolver and it ex- ploded in exact unison with the gun of the bandit. a humming sprang into his face— his hat was whisked from his head—and he knew that the bullet had missed him by an inch. with a yell like a hunting indian he spurred in at the night hawk, but the latter, without attempting a second shot, urged his horse to a gallop and passed di- rectly by the side of kirk. the maneuver was so sudden, so unexpected, that the sec- ond bullet of kirk went wide. the snarl of the bandit was at his very ear as he whirled his horse and set out in pursuit. a stern chase, on sea or land, is proverbi- ally a long one. yet kirk might have overhauled the night hawk in the first half mile of the race if he had known the ground over which they galloped. but it was all new to him. the bandit seemed to know it as if a sun shone to guide him. he swirled here and there among the boul- ders of the valley and again, again and again, his course turned at sharp angles at the very moments when kirk fired. every shot must have gone wide by whole yards. now and again he used the spurs. but in spite of the speed of his willing horse he was losing ground, an inch at a time, and the figure of the night hawk faded more and more quickly into the darkness. there was a fierce happiness in kirk. the win- nings at the gaming house of y chai were nothing. mere gold which weighted his belt now and dulled his chances in the pur- suit. how much greater thisl—kto have conquered and put to flight the terror of kirby creek! his pulses sang. he wished that ten thousand people were watching that pursuit while he drove the bandit like 'a whipped cur before him. it was strange that the night hawk did not attempt to fire back at him. he began to guess that the bandit had been wounded in that first exchange of shots. and the thought was a new triumph. he had beaten a great gun-fighter of the southwest with his own weapon, with the odds of a surprise attack against him; now he felt that there was not a single human being in the world whom he would not face with laughing confidence. and strangely enough the picture that rose before him of the most formidable man he could conceive was not of a big- shouldered fellow like himself, but of the slender grace of clung and the lightning speed of his hands. t o be frank, in the old days he had actually feared clung ever since the moment when he saw the strange fellow whirl and drop from his seat with ' two guns in his hands as if they had been conjured out of thin air. now he wished with all his soul that some test might come of their courage and their strength and their skill. lie laughed fiercely, between his teeth, and buried the spurs in the flanks of his snorting horse. they had passed, now, from the big, clung. . boulder-strewn ravine of kirby creek and entered the throat of a narrower valley. here the ground was more nearly level and there was only a faint scattering of the big rocks. the effect of this new ground told almost at once. it was no longer necessary for kirk to spur his horse. the animal seemed to lower toward the ground as it lengthened its stride, and its beating hoofs struck out sharp showers of sparks now and again from the rocks underfoot. the form of the night hawk, which had dwindled to a formless, shifting shadow in the night, now drew back rapidly to them, ‘ until kirk could make out every detail of the man as he bent forward over his saddle- horn, apparently urging his flagging mount to greater efforts. the big man yelled with his triumph and poised his revolver for another shot—when suddenly the form of the night hawk, horse and man, vanished from sight as completely as if the ground had opened and swallowed them. . chapter xxvii. the night hawk. ith a chill of horror he pulled in his horse and swung him about in the opposite direction. there was no night hawk in sight; but far down the valley kirk caught the clatter of- flying‘ hoofs. not departing, but approaching. some one else had joined the pursuit, and a hot wave of anger touched the big man with the thought that some one else might share in the glory of the capture which was almost his. the night hawk had vanished like a puff of smoke, yet it was perfectly impos- sible that he was gone. they had been riding close beside the wall of the valley, which at this point and for several hundred yards on either side was a sheer cliff of granite rising a full hundred feet from the floor of the ravine. had it been in any other part of the wild ride it might have been explained by the night hawk dodging to the shelter of a shrub or a boulder. but who could be absorbed into a block of solid granite? there was one possibility, a crev- ice in the face of the rock.‘ at the point where the night hawk had disappeared the cliff jagged back at a per- fect right angle. along the face of the rock, kirk, dismounting, felt his way and the horse followed at his heels like a dog, puffing on his back. the wall of rock was irregular, giving back here and there into small crevices, but not sufficient to shelter, even a dog. and so kirk came to the point where the cliff turned back in its original direction. he faced about with a sigh of despair. and it was then that his foot struck a stone and he toppled sidewise against the cliff. his head struck heavily against the stone; but his fall continuing he found him- self lying fiat on the ground. half dazed, he started up, and once more struck his head, more sharply this time. the mean- ing of it dawned on him. on the way down the face of the cliff he had passed this crevice in the rock, be- cause he had been feeling on the level with his own shoulder. it was, undoubtedly, the entrance to the retreat of the night hawk; this was how he had faded into the face of the cliff. as he stood there, setting his teeth for the adventure and gripping his revolver butt, he heard the clatter of hoofs sweep down the valley, past the mouth of the crevice. he had a mind, at first, to rush out and call after the stranger for help, for certainly it was work for the best two men who ever lived to heard the night hawk in'his den; he would rather have in- vaded the cave of a mountain lion armed with a stick. for the spring of the moun- tain lion might not be fatal; but the stroke of the night hawk in that dark passage would be death. ' nevertheless it was this very greatness of danger which fascinated kirk and forced him on in the adventure. courage of which he did not dream, be- cause he had never tested it, existed in him; and like all very brave men, danger from which he might have shrunk had it been less vital drew him on now by its very terror. he began to feel his way down the passage. almost at once it increased in height, which, explained how the horse had dis- appeared as well as the man; for it would story weekly. be comparatively simple to teach a horse to creep through the low opening of the rock-tunnel. once inside the mouth, the animal could straighten to its feet. he went on. the sand underfoot at first seemed to mask the sound of his prog- ress, but in a little time the senses of kirk began to grow attuned with the blanketing, horrible dark. his eyes saw odd imagin- ings in the darkness, glowing eyes winking at him a yard away; his ears caught a grim succession of sounds. the crunch of his feet in the dry sand which had drifted into the tunnel grew louder and louder until it seemed great enough to alarm a sleeping army. other sounds besieged him: steps approached him and stopped at a little dis- tance, and he could hear the heavy, guarded breath of the watcher. the darkness has a palpable presence. it pressed against the face of kirk like heavy moth wings, waming him back, stif- ling his breath. a swift succession of fancies rose in his brain. perhaps, after all, this was not the entrance to the cave of the night hawk, but was the lair of some mountain lion, : female with her hungry brood. perhaps that was the heavy, guarded breath which he heard—— the monster crouching and ready to spring. he stopped and listened. not a sound ex- cept the wild thundering of his heart. other thoughts tortured'him as he stole on through that maddening dark which was so thick that he continually stxtched out his hand as if to brush a curtain aside. he heard kindly voices of his friends. he saw himself in some cheery club-room with the deep laughter of men around him. the drab matter-of-fact of business life came ringing on his memory with the rush of traffic and the clamor of the money— seekers. what had he to do in this dark tunnel in the desert? well, there was nothing to make him pursue the search. he could turn and go back at any instant. it was that very fact which spurred him on, step after step. moreover, he thrilled with inconceivable delight at the thought of how he had met the redoubtable night hawk and worsted him in single combat. that brief meeting in the night was the second of the three steps which william kirk was to take to- ward the primitive; and the third step was directly before him. now, like the wolf which follows a wounded prey into the most dangerous covert, so kirk, with set teeth and ti: illing nerves, went down the passage, step by step. a long trip in the telling, but a matter of seconds only, until he saw before him a winking of light which at first was grimly like a glowing eye—so realistic that kirk dropped to his knees and poised his revol- ver to fire. and it was then that he knew, in a burst of joyous certainty, that he was not afraid. he was excited, trembling with nervousness. but not afraid; rather, the prospect of the battle was to him a glad ' thing. in an instant he was sure that the light came from a point still farther down the passage, and rising from his knees he ven- tured forward again. now the tunnel widened constantly and finally made a sharp turn to the right—so sharp a change of direction that kirk almost stumbled into full view of the night hawk. for it was be. he sat, apparently quite at ease in the security of his retreat, beside a small, open fire. the burning sticks lay between three rocks of considerable size, blackened by the soot of countless fires, and forming a resting place for pots or pans of the rough cookery of the outlaw. also, the rocks cast, on as many sides, vast, shuddering shadows and one of them swept now and again across the face of the night hawk. as for him, he sat with his head bowed so low that kirk could not make out his face, and he was busy wrapping a band- age around his right hand. it was now _ very plain what had happened in the en- counter, earlier that night. the bullet from kirk’s gun had plowed a furrow across the back of the night hawk’s hand; and it was this which had prevented the outlaw from opening fire on his pursuer.‘ beyond the outlaw stood a black horse of matchless size and beauty. certainly the mount of kirk could never have gained on such an animal as this had it not been that the outlaw’s horse was weak- ened by long and continuous riding. the mark of the saddle was outlined by the i:- i .. ..‘ clung. gray salt of dried sweat along his sides and back; and his ribs still rose and fell from the exertion of the last burst of speed. there was a continual rustling and crunch- ing as the black stallion nosed among his forage. all these things kirk noted with the first glance, and still he delayed to make the capture. he let that easy task wait and rolled the taste of the pleasure of victory _over his tongue. still crouched in the throat of the passage, he looked up by the firelight to the rocks on all sides. it was now perfectly plain how the refuge had been formed. a vast mass of rock—millions of {ods— had tilted to 'one side and settled against its neighbor, crumbling close to it at the top, but leaving this narrow crevice at the bot- tom. a perfect retreat, for now kirk heard what seemed several musical voices in dis- tant conversation; listening more intently, he discovered the sound of running water. here were all things necessary to the night hawk. the only inconvenience was the long tunnel through which he must drag all his supplies both for himself and his horse. however, men and horses of the desert are trained to subsist on rations of small bulk. the safety of the place made up amply for every disadvantage. here at the very doors of kirby creek the outlaw lived in security and preyed when and where he pleased. "the bandaging of his hand was now com- pleted and, after surveying the wounded hand for a moment and nodding as if with satisfaction the night hawk lifted his head and william kirk found himself staring into the face of the big blond man who had spoken with him in the gaming house of y chai. a kindly face, now, as then; though kirk thought that he de- tected in it a glint of wildness, but perhaps that was the effect of imagination. still he delayed to jump out on the out- law with his challenge and watched dave spenser rise from the fire, pick up two sticks of wood, ignite them over the flames, and set them in turn in crevicesori the sides of the rock-room. they had either been soaked in oil or they were extremely resin- ous, for they burned with a yellow and flar- ing light. by that illumination kirk saw the strangest sight his eyes had ever dwelt upon. chapter xxviii. the silver virgin. or the light of the first torch streamed down upon the most costly altar that had ever come to the dreams of wil- liam kirk. a shelf of the natural rock was. covered by a cloth of gold brocade, marvel- ously thick, as the stiff-standing folds am- ply proved; a treasure worth many thou- sands for the price of the materials alone. to say nothing of the art of the weavers. on either side of this cloth stood two golden candle-sticks, each a full foot and a half in height and set with green and red points of light—emeralds and rubies worth in them- selves a king’s ransom. above these and crowning the altar was a silver image of the virgin with eyes of jew- els, holding a golden christ and crowned with a halo of solid gold, all cunningly worked. the robe of the virgin was set with a border of diamonds, glittering against the dull 'silver of the image. it seemed to kirk that he had never seen so priceless a relic. nor was this all, for the yellow light of the second torch flared down the wall of the cave and glimmered and lingered along a whole row of jewels. chains of gold, neck- laces of pearl and diamonds, bracelets set with emeralds and rubies—all these appar- ently hanging on little pegs affixed to the rock. the spoils of a thousand robberies lay within a second’s sweep of the eye; and the bandit now unrolled a small rug of thick, soft weaving, and sitting upon it cross-legged leaned his back against the rock, filled and lighted a pipe, and between puffs of blue smoke rolled his eyes content- edly from treasure to treasure along his walls. turning at length, he dipped his hand into a small box at his side and raised it heaping with gold coins which he allowed to rain back into the treasure-box—the sweetest of chiming to the ear of william kirk. before that musical shower ceased kirk all- story weekly. leveled his revolver and called: “hands u ! .‘ pthe bandaged hand of the outlaw raised instantly above his head; from the fingers of the other he allowed the last of the coins to fall into the box. and then the second hand went leisurely above his head. "i was afraid.” said the night hawk, “that you’d arrive before the place was lighted up.” and so saying he turned his face toward the mouth of the tunnel from which kirk was now emerging with his leveled revolver. it seemed to kirk that the teeth of the night hawk were set hard over his pipe and that his eyes glinted with a light as hard and brilliant as the sparkle of those jewels which took the place of eyes in the forehead of the silver virgin. yet if this expremion were an actuality and not the effect of the shifting, swinging lights of the torches, it pased in an instant, and the face of dave spenser was as good-natured and careless as it had been when he warned kirk in the gaming house cf yo chai. “ but you took so long coming down the passage,” said the night hawk, “ that you gave me just time enough to get ready to receive you.” so saying, he smiled upon his visitor and kirk looked curiously into the cold blue eyes of the bandit. there were many pos- sibilities in them, from stupid good nature to wild, berserker rage. the calm of the fellow alarmed him more that a gun. “do you mean to tell me,” he asked, “that you knew i was coming down the passage and yet you made no attempt to get me there in the dark?” “ in the meantime,” said the night hawk, “ my arms are growing a bit tired.” “ lower ’em,” said kirk, “ but keep your hands quiet. i don’t trust you, spenser, and i’ll blaze away at the first crooked move. understand?” “ perfectly,” nodded the other. “ be- sides, i’ve lived too long to be a fool.” and lowering his arms, he folded his his hands on his knee. “ i won’t tell you that you’re a cool devil," said kirk, “ because you know that better than i; but why have you given up the game, my friend?” the outlaw yawnei leisurely and an swered: " because in my profession "—- here he smiled—“ at man can only afford to lose once. after that he’s done.” ' “ i don't follow that.” “ when a man’s life is wanted by other men,” explained dave spenser patiently, “ and when he stakes his hand against the rest of the world, he loses a good many things—friends, companions, comforts. and a long list of other things. he gets very few in return, but there i." a compensation. for instance, before i turned the corner i was a poor gambler and a bad shot with any sort of a gun. but after i killed my first man all that was changed. to-day it takes a pretty good man—somebody like yo c hai, for instance—to beat me at the cards; and never failed with my gun. i never failed, because a single miss or a single slow draw meant death, nine chances out of ten. i killed the other man because i had to kill him and the possibility of missing him never entered my head.” kirk had heard' of this fatalism of the outlaw world; it interested him sharply to stand face to face with an exponent of the doctrine. “ yet all the time,” went on the bandit, “ i knew that there was some man in the world who would finally beat me to the draw; and once beaten i knew i’d be no good. to tell you the truth, i’ve been looking for that man for several years.“ “ trying them out?" queried kirk. “ not a bit, but simply wandering about, watching the faces of men. when you’ve gone wrong yourself it’s pretty easy to read the faces of other men and tell a dangerous fellow when you sight him. that was why i talked with you in the house of y chai. i knew you were a hard man—that you would give me a run for my money if i ever crossed you. and i wanted to keep away from you, but somehow or other i couldn’t do it. it was like the temptation to jump when you’re high in the air—the imp of the perverse. “ so i spoke to you, and what you said met all my expectations; you'd say that that should have been enough to keep me off your path, but it was the very thing which made me wait for you on the uptrail. i clung. couldn’t resist the temptation of trying to learn whether or not you could beat me to the draw and wing rne with your bullet. the rest of it’s simple. you did beat me, and once beaten i knew i’d be good. for nothing hereafter. my confidence would be gone; i’d pull my gun with shaking hand, and some drunken mexican would down me, at last, in a saloon fight. rather than that i decided to end the game to-night and lose all my cards to you. so i sat here and waited for you to come.” he puffed at his pipe with philosophic calm and let his eyes wander down the row of jewels on the wall—a brilliant train. “ of course,” mused kirk, “ this is nine- tenths a. lie, but i suppose there’s a germ of truth somewhere in it.” “ naturally you’re bound to use your rea- son and call it a lie, but in your heart, kirk, you know it’s the truth—all of it.” “ what staggers me,” said kirk, “ is that you can so calmly prepare to go back to town with me and be lynched—probably— by the crowd. for you know how badly they want your blood, spenser.” “ go back to town?” queried the bandit, in some surprise. “ i haven’t the least notion of doing that.” ' “want me to shoot you down here?” asked kirk grimly. “eh?” said the other, as if he could not understand. “dead or alive, you go back to kirby creek with me, my friend.” “ well, well!” said the night hawk, “that’s a fine little speech, kirk, but it doesn’t ring true.” fl why?" “ too sunday-school. n , you won’t take me back to kirby creek. listen: why should we dodge the issue like a pair of four-flushers? be frank with me, kirk, and i’ll be frank with you.” “ i don’t quite follow you; but it’s get- ting late and there’s a stiff ride before us. stand up, spenser, and turn your back to me. i’ll have to tie your hands.” “ by jove!” said the other with a sort of wondering admiration, “i almost believe you’d do it!” . and he nodded, smiling, showing not the slightest intention of obeying the order. “stand up!” commanded kirk sharply. “ come, come! ” said spenser, with much the same tone of weary patience one might use with a child. “ sit down and lay your cards on the table as i’ve done. there’s no one here within earshot to repeat what you say.” “ you’rea devilish curious case, spenser,” said kirk, smiling broadly. “ just what you have up your sleeve i can’t tell, but i’m willing to listen. why are you so sure that i won’t take you back to kirby creek?” “ because,” said the night hawk, “ you aren’t the sort of crook who plays short on a pal even when he’s in your line of busi— ness; you don’t use the law for a friend.” chapter xxix. temptation. nderstanding came to kirk, and he laughed, softly and low. he sat down, still keeping the revolver vigilantly turned on the bandit. “as they say in the southwest, you’ve followed a cold trail, my friend. i’m not in your line of business, spenser.” he chuckled again at the thought. “ in fact, i’m only down here on a little vacation. my business lies up north—and it’s a good-sized business at that, spenser, and brings me in even more than your night- riding has brought you. why, spenser, do i look like a night-rider? do i talk like one?” and he smiled with whimsical good na- ture on the outlaw. “ well,” responded the night hawk, “ do i look like a night-rider? do i talk like one?” it silenced kirk as effectually as a gag; he could only stare. “ my dear fellow,” said the night hawk, “ i don’t mean that you are actually in my line of business now; but before long you will be.” “ but why in the name of heaven,” said kirk sharply, his amusement passing and irritation taking its place, “should i pass into outlawry? do i need money? have i injured any man illegally? do i fear the law?” all ~ story weekly. " for none of those reasons,” answered the night hawk, “ but for the same reasons that i started and stay in the game." he waved his hand t ward his treasures. “don‘t you suppose that i could sell a tithe of these things and retire? why, sir, i have enough gold cash to settle down with a gentleman‘s competence, and these odds and ends of trinkets could be all velvet, mr. kirk. for that matter, i wasn‘t poor when i started this game.” “ you mean to say it was deliberate choice—this trade of robbery and murder?” “ is it deliberate choice,” came back the night hawk with his first show of irrita- tion, “ that makes the drunkard drink— that makes him keep on drinking until he is a moral leper, until he has lost the wife he loves, and his children, and his friends, until he has exchanged a place of respect and ad- miration for universal contempt? don’t talk to me of choice! but the hunger for adventure—the love of chance-the game of life and death—the ridings in the night— the glory of fighting against the hand of every man—the thrill f the secrecy. these are my treasures. i sit and gloat over them at night like a miser. not because they are valuable, but because i’ve risked my life and taken lives for almost every one of them.” he leaned forward and stretched his ban- daged hand toward kirk. “ what! kirk, haven’t you felt the same thing? nonsense! of course, you have! i read it in your face when i saw you in the house of y chai. the same wildness that’s in mine, no matter how we mask it. i saw it and understood, perhaps, even more clearly than you understand yourself. the jaw and the eye of the man- killer, kirk, i saw it in you!” and kirk, staring at the outlaw, felt like a child who hears a strange prophecy from a mysterious soothsayer. “ yes,” nodded the night hawk, “ you’re afraid. of what? of yourself, mr. kirk. no, you won’t take me back to kirby creek!” “ by god!” exclaimed kirk, “ i don‘t be- lieve i can, spenser; i feel as if i were being hypnotized! ” “ when a man sees the inside of himself,” answered the other, “it often makes him feel that way. but the strangeness of it will pass; take a moment and think.” in fact, kirk needed time for thought. the world spun before his eyes. he re- membered the strange urge which had been in him ever since he started on the trail of clung, freshening when he entered wild kirby creek, and when he beat the roulette wheel in y chai’s gaming house, and com- ing like thunder on his ears when he beat the night hawk in single encounter. and now this seemed the logical end of the trail -—outlawry. battle against other men, the tricky balance of chance wavering this way and that. he felt as if he were being tempted and was about to fall. something like hate for the night hawk rose in him. common sense, in a cold wave, brought him back to reason; but at the same time it took a fierce and happy thrill from his blood. he shrugged his shoulders and scowled at the night hawk. " you think you’ve got back to reason,” nodded the outlaw, “ but you haven’t, kirk. you‘ll probably leave the cave to-night and go back to kirby creek, but when you’re safe in your house you’ll remember the se- crecy of this place and the ease with which you could play a double part and live two lives, one by day and one by night. you’ll remember that i’m out here waiting for you to come back—and you’ll come, eventu- ally.” “' are you sure?" asked kirk, with an at- tempt at a mocking smile. “ listen!” said the night hawk sharply, like one _who wished to brush away a veil of deceit with a single phrase. “have you never done wrong to another man? think!” the suddenness of the question wrenched at kirk’s inner self, and the answer burst forth involuntarily: “ clung!” it was the turn of the night hawk to start, and he stirred so violently that kirk wondered. ‘ “what of clung?” he asked. “i wronged him,” muttered kirk, ‘ but he drew it on himself.” the night hawk drew a long breath. “ i’d rather see the devil than hear the name of clung,” he said. “queer thing, kirk, but the only two men i’ve ever clung. . dodged have been two chinks: clung and that dark-eyed fiend yo chai. i’ve never seen clung, but i’ve heard of his work; i have seen yo chai and i’d rather throw my money away than play against him.” “ i beat his wheel,” said kirk, with a rather boyish triumph. “ but not yo chai,” said the other, un- moved. - “ however, i’ll try him later on.” the outlaw shrugged his shoulders. “you’re too rare a fellow to turn over to the law, spenser,” went on kirk, “ and i suppose i will leave you here. but i’ll never come bac .” it why?" “ because if i can’t face temptation i can at least run away from it.” _ > the night hawk smiled sourly. “try it and see. no, kirk, you’ll be back. this is the beginning of a partner- ship.” “ perhaps,” grinned kirk, “ and if it is, here’s my hand on it.” the outlaw held out his left hand and they shook, clumsily. “ i wonder if there’s a meaning in that left-handed shake?” said kirk, half in sus- picion, half whimsically. “ you see the other’s wounded?” “ let it go, but to continue our charming frankness, spenser, i’ve an idea that if i turned my back you’d as soon knife me as light your pipe.” “ before you’re through,” said the bandit, “ you’ll understand me better than this.” “ perhaps. in the meantime let’s hear some of the stories of your night-riding.” “ is this turning your back on tempta- tion?” “ the devil take temptation! virgin, spenser?” the eye of the night hawk passed like a carms over the bright image. - “ that,” he said, “ was the beginning.” he unbuckled his gun belt and tossed it across to kirk. “the first four notches are charged to the silver virgin, mr. kirk.” kirk drew out the long, shining revolver and balanced it easily in his hand. the weight was perfect; it seemed impossible that a man could miss his shot with such a that silver weapon. he spun the cylinder; the action was perfect. “ i thought the same thing,” said the night hawk, “ when i first put my hand on that gun.” and kirk, glancing up sharply, frowned. it was not the first time that'his mind had been read that afternoon. yet he said noth- ing and examined the butt of the revolver. there were no notches there.“ “ under the barrel,” suggested the night hawk. kirk obediently ran his forefinger under the barrel of the weapon and found a row of little notches filed slightly into the steel. they came in swift succession and he num- bered them with a growing feeling which was neither horror nor awe. once more he glanced up at the outlaw, but those cold, blue eyes were raised to the roof of the cave in pleasant meditation. a chapter xxx. the poniard of piombotti. “ hen the aztecs were in their w prime,” began the narrator, “ you know that they used to make their gods out of precious metals, and when the spaniards gave them a new creed they retained their old habit wherever the con- querors left them enough riches for the pur- pose. the priests favored the habit of the natives, because, in the long run, they were the gainers. there was one of these native metal workers who possessed such rare tal- ents that his spanish master sent him to spainwhen he was still aboy to study his craft there. he came back with a high reputation and was almost immediately en- gaged by an indian prince of enormous wealth and a new convert to the faith. ‘ his work was the silver virgin you see there. yet the wealth of his master was not sufficient for the completion of the ln- dian’s design. it' furnished the precious metals, but not all the jewels for the border of the robe and left the eyes of the virgin blank hollows. each of them, you see, is filled with an enormous black diamond. “for half a dozen generations va'rious pious men and women of wealth gave great a-s clung. " , enormous ruby; four great diamonds, each worthy of being pendant at the throat of a queen, faced the four sides where the hilt joined the top of the blade, and the grip was roughened with priceless emer- aids. , “ a dainty little weapon, eh?” smiled the night hawk, and he balanced the poniard deftly, resting the point on the nail of his thumb. that point was drawn to a needle fineness, and kirk'guessed that the slightest jar would send the deadly little blade ' through the thumb-nail and through the flesh of the finger below. “ a toy for a king,” continued the night hawk, and he narrowed his eyes like a connoisseur to regard the poniard, “with a story, moreover, attached to it. among the followers of cortez was a one—armed italian. he had been in his time a great warrior and had distinguished himself in a 'dozen pitched battles until in the last of these he was literally cut to pieces and left for dead on the field of battle. afterward, however, he recovered. his right arm had to be cut off at the shoulder and the left arm was badly torn with wounds—so badly that it was only possible for him to use one violent motion, an overhand motion like a pitcher throwing a baseball in your coun- try, mr. kirk. “ now, piombotti, for that was his name, having accumulated much money during his days of fighting, retired to a country villa and spent his days trying to develop his left arm, for he hoped to swing a sword with it, since his right arm was now hope- less and since he could not wean himself from the thought of further battles. “he found, however, that he could use his left arm in only this limited manner. it was useless for anything except to throw a knife. so piombotti labored for hours every day taking a knife by the point and throwing it. he used a round-bladed poniard so that he could hold it without danger of cutting his fingers when he threw. finally he became so expert that he never failed of his mark, and at length—this was in the course of years of patient labor—he could throw the poniard at a great distance and with a perfectly miraculous accuracy. “ finally he .was insulted by a neighbor, q challenged the man to a duel in the lists, and went to meet him clad in thin silks and bearing his round-bladed poniard. the other knight entered the lists in complete armor—and armor in the sixteenth century weighed close to a hundred pounds. he was impregnable. those near by thought the one-armed man mad, but he insisted on fighting the battle and finally urged the armored knight with such terrific insults that the knight charged him with lance at rest. at this, piombotti drew his poniard, caught it by the point, and threw it. the needlelike point pierced the open vizor of the knight and drove through his eye to the brain. he fell from the saddle dead. “however, he had great connections, and these persecuted piombotti until he had to flee secretly from the country, leav- ing all his possessions behind him. he took ship to spain, won the sympathy of cortez for his singular accomplishment, and for his strange history, and sailed with the conqueror to mexico. there he fought through the wild battles which ended with the destruction of montezuma and his em- pire. in every conflict piombotti exposed himself recklessly, and every time he threw his poniard it brought down a man. a hun- dred times, i suppose, blood has spurted over the length of this poniard, sir. “ and piombotti came to have an almost superstitious regard for the weapon. cor- tez rewarded his followers for their deeds, and piombotti came in for a large share of these rewards. for every fresh exploit, lands and treasures were showered upon him, and each time he added something to the adornment of his poniard. every one of these emeralds—seel—means at least one death; a score of lives, perhaps, went to the purchase of this big ruby—red, you see, as blood—until half the wealth of piombotti—and he grew rich as a jew—- was lodged in his poniard. “when i got the poniard i was more interested in the story of piombotti, i think, than i was in the jewels. i used to prac- tise as he must have practised with it, throwing it at a slab of soft wood; and though i never attained a tithe of his ex- pertness, still the poniard became in my hands a pretty sure weapon. yes, many clung. the cave and show them what he had done and turn over to them all the treasure. all except the priceless poniard. that he had certainly earned as a memento of his work. he would turn it all over to the law except this one thing. but why turn it over im- mediately? there was no hurry. the law had waited a long while for its victim. it could wait a little longer. in the mean time for a few days he could ride out here often at night and take care of the black charger. he could sit in the evening against the rock where the deadt night hawk now lay and survey the jewels of the silver virgin and the poniard of piombotti. he could retell the stories of dave spenser; he could imagine other tales to fit each of the possessions. yes, decidedly, the law must wait. in the mean time, the body of the ban- dit must 'be disposed of. he heaved the inert 'bulk over his shoulder and strode with his burden farther down the passage. the glimmer of the torches faintly il- lumined his way. in passing he raised one from its crevice and went on, bearing the light high above his head. almost at once he passed a pool of water, looking as black as ink by the torch-light. on the other side of it the pamage descended, dropping more and more swiftly, until the water from the spring, which ebbed over the edges of the pool, trickled with increasing sound from ledge to ledge of the tunnel. at a considerable distance his foot rolled on a pebble and flung him to his knees; he dropped the torch in' his fall and' stretched out his left hand to break the descent, but the hand plunged into a vacuum and he crashed down on his breast, his head overhanging nothingness. the torch was now spluttering out, but he raised and twirled it until it flamed brightly agein; then he extended it over the ledge. below him stretched a narrow pit, walled by jagged rock. he could not see to the bottom of the pit, but he heard the far-off tinkling of water as the little stream splashed in the pool at the bottom. the stumble had saved him. another step would have precipitated him into the abyss. the thought made his knees buckle be- neath him and he sat down until the blood once more circulated freely. at least, this was a ready-made grave for the night hawk. he rose again, dragged the body of ‘ spenser to the edge, and sent it toppling down into the blackness. there was an appallineg long pause; then the loud, dis- tant splash of the heavy form into the waters of the pool below. with a certain giddiness making his head spin, he stumbled back up the tunnel to the wider space which the outlaw had used as 'his cave. compared with the rough passage and the pit which ended it, every- thing -in the cave was like a welcoming, familiar face to kirk. it was a home- coming. by this time the greater part of the night was gone, and heaprepared to start back to kirby creek. it was not easy to leave the riches of the cave. he decided to take what he could conveniently dispose about him, and he selected the rich poniard of piombotti, the revolver of the night hawk with its telltale notches and its matchless balance and action, and a handful of broad gold pieces from the box beneath the figure of the silver virgin. he came within an ace of prying from' their setting some of the larger jewels with which the virgin was bedecked, but he shrank'from this at the last'moment as from a sacrilege. laden with his spoil, he started down the passage. theblack stallion whinnied after him and he called back in a low-voiced adieu. at the mouth of the tunnel he found his horse standing with head high facing the east, for the dawn had made its first faint beginning, and the mountains rose impres- sively tall and rough and black, every indentation distinctly outlined. once in the saddle he set a brisk pace back through the crisp, cool air of the morning. not that he was hurried; he would reach the cabin long before sampson and winifred were awake, but his present mood brooked no slowness of action. ' certainly he was happier than he had ever been in his life. he felt like a man who has spent many days climbing a range of mountains until at last he stands on the summit and looking down on all sides he clung. v" y. he faced clauson, saying: “he is the greatest of the great.” “well,” said the marshal, grinning, “ i 'dunno who you’re laughin’ at, “clung, me or the damn idol; but either way it’s bad medicine.” > he broke off and looked leisurely around the apartment. his eyes gleamed with ap- probation. “ when a chink puts on style,” he said, " he don’t spare the coin. there ain’t no way of doubting that. why,“ clung, if you had a decent chair to sit on, and a table to eat off of that a man could put his legs under, and a calendar or two hangin’ on the wall, i wouldn’t mind stablin’ here myself.” “ i shall bring you everything you .wis ,” said clung, and with that he tapped a num- ber of times on his gong, in a sort of tele- graphic code. the sound scarcely died away before a withered little chinaman entered at a sort of dog-trot and arranged on an ebony table at the side of marshal clauson a tall bottle of rye whisky, flanked with seltzer, water, and glasses. “if i drink some of this,” grinned the marshal, “ i won’t be thinkin’ of your fur- niture, clung?” “it is red magic,” said clung, pouring a drink and holding it for the marshal. the latter tasted it, sighed deeply, and then swallowed the glasful. “and how,” he 'queried, wiping his lips, “how in the name of sixteen saints did liquor like that come to kirby creek?” clung filled his visitor’s second glass. “clung brought it,” he said, “for he hoped that marshal clauson would visit him.” “ clung,” grinned the marshal, “i like to hear you talk even when i know you’re lyin’. here’s kind regards!” and he downed the formidable drink at a gulp. “ how’s business? clung?” “at first,” said clung, “ i made much money, but now for four days—five days— ihave lost steadily and much. there is 'one man who wins it all at roulette. hi lime is william kirk.” robbing the miners, “' him!” grunted clauson. “ that swine still around?” “ he always wins,” said clung unemo- tionally. “the gods must love him.” “ then,” said the marshal, “ they love a skunk. i tell you what, clung, a man that ’d do what he done to you is a coyote in a man’s skin.” - “ it was only one thing,” said clung dep- recatingly. the marshal raised an argumentative forefinger. i “ it don’t take more ’n one thing to show the color of a feller’s insides. you can lay to that. and now this swine is up here breakin’ your game, clung?” “ clung has very little left, but he waits?” “ for what?” the head of clung tilted back and he smiled. “ clung waits until william kirk leaves the roulette wheel and comes to play at clung’s table.” - the marshal grunted his admiration. “ and then?” he asked. clung waved his almost transparently frail hand. “ it will be very pleasant,” he said, and smiled again. ' “pleasant?” bellowed the marshal with great enthusiasm. “it ’ll be a slaughter, lad, and i’d give an eye to see you trim him.” he grew more sober. “but i got to get down to business, clung. first, have you got .time to help me out on a deal?” “ the time of clung is the time of his father.” “ that sounds good to me. now, clung, you’ve heard a pile about the night hawk, which some think is a gent named dave spenser, without anybody having seen his face?” “ clung has heard.” “ kirby creek is in my district, and i’ve ' got to stop the night hawk or i‘m through. that’s straight. i lost a pile of rep when you got away from me. i’m losing more every day this night hawk keeps on op- erating. clung, you’re handy to this spot. all i ask is for you to keep them eyes of, all~ story weekly yours open, and when you get any dope slip it on to me. i’ll come up from morti- mer and try my hand with the night hawk. when the shooting party comes maybe you’d trot along with me. i’d rather have you than any man that ever packed a six- gun.” “ clung will be all eyes. a little time ago he followed a man he thinks was the night hawk, and the man disappeared in a ravine. clung will follow him again.” “ that,’z sighed the marshal, “is simple and to the point, and i wouldn’t be in the night hawk’s boots for all the gold in kirby creek. one more little talk with your red magic, clung ”——here he poured and swallowed a prodigious drink—“ and i’m on my way.” ., he puffed out his whiskers like a panting walrus. - “i’ll be thinkin’ of you often, clung, to be continued next week. and i’ll be dreaming of your liquor, too. s’long.” “ good~by,” said clung, and he attended his guest to the door. “ ch’u men chien hsi,” he said. “whatever that means,” grinned the marshal from the door-step, “ the same to you, and a million dollars in luck, my lad.” “and is there any trail of the night hawk'to follow?” asked clung. ' “ only two things we know. one is that he packs a gun with notches filed on the under side of the barrel. the other is that he lifted about a thousand dollars in twen- ties from buck lawson, and old buck had marked every one of the coins with a little knife cut on the tail side of the coin. if one of them marked coins comes across your table, clung, you can know that it comes straight from the night hawk.” and he vanished into the night. don’t forget this magazine is issued weekly, and that you will get the continuation of this story without waiting a month. abashed, supremely out of place, ir- ritany warm. he hadn’t been inside of a church for seven years. accordingly, his was the sensation of a boy caught rifiing the family cookie jar. because of this religious delinquency, the southern department store operator was ab- solutely sure that the eyes of every church member in the congregation were focussed accusingly on the back of his neck, just above the collar rim. there a spot burned feverishly red, shooting facets of color into his face. gaylord moore felt generally with one hand he grasped gingerly the corner of a hymn book, which be was shar- ing with the consistently proper sister of bill breen, house salesman for ivetson and sundheim, remnant wholesalers. the breens were directly responsible for his front pew position. as their guest he had submitted tamely. when mrs. breen had suggested evening service there was a high note of finality-in her voice. and among other things moore had noticed that when mrs. breen suggested there was im- mediate concurrence. bobby breen, four, also warm. but more blackmail. spite of him, why didn’t he come back here to report?” “ perhaps he’s still on his trail.” “ but he was told not to let him get out of the building. there‘s nothing for me to do, i suppose, but wait here.” evan waited in the librarian’s office until after lunch, but charley neither came back nor sent any word. by the end of that time evan, divided between anger and anxiety, was in a fever. he decided to make a trip home. \ by the time he reached washington square anxiety had the upper hand. the gang must have got the better of charley, - he told himself, or he would have had some word. evan had had experience of the desperate lengths to which they were prepared to go. would they now put their final threat into execution upon“ his hapless friend? evan blamed himself bitterly for having sent charley into danger. “if i do not hear from him during the afternoon, i’ll send out a general alarm at police headquarters,” he thought. when evan opened the door of a, miss' sisson, according to her custom, stuck her head out into the hall. “i suppose you haven’t seen mr. straik- er," said evan. ‘ “ yes i have,” she answered. “ he came in about lunch time." “ what! ” ' said evan staring. “he came in and packed his trunk and took it away in a taxicab. said he was going away for a few days. wouldn’t tell me where he was going. “seemed funny to me he wanted his trunk if it was only a few days, but of course i couldn’t object, for his rent is paid up and he left his furniture anyway, though that wouldn’t bring much. “ i will say he acted funny, though, to an old friend like me. wouldn’t give me any information.” evan stared at the woman as if he thought she had suddenly lost her mind. then without a word he ran up the three flights of stairs. a glance in charley’s rdom confirmed what she had told him. things were thrown about in the wildest confusion. but all charley’s clothes were gone, as well as all the personal belongings that he treasured. evan never gave a thought to the five thousand dollars; what cut him to the quick was the suggestion that his friend had be- trayed him. there is nothing bitterer. “ i needn’t have been so anxious about him,” he thought grimly. “this is more like treachery!” \ to be continued next week. don’t forget this magazine is issued weekly, and that you will get the continuation of this story without waiting a month. \ o i u u lovd'e’s eternity by h. thompson rich ast night a bird flew through the hall, ' hung like a shadow on the wall one moment—and was gone. swift a bird is love to pass, swift as the turning of the grass. as summer comes, so summer goes, nor heeds the petals of the rose-— all crimson on the lawn. ‘ then come, why think of days to be? to-day is our eternity. ' .ma'x brand allin.“ of "the ulla-d.“ " min! of the night.” " trailin'." etc. chapter xxxiii. drunk. “ isten,” said john sampson, and held up a warning forefinger. . then from the next room there came a thrilling voice: “ what made the ball so fine? robin adair; what made the assembly shine? robin adair!" “ she’s up at las ,” commented kirk. “well, isn’t it time? near noon, samp- son." ‘ “time!” grunted the financier in dis- gust. “ kirk, there isn’t an eye left to you, no, nor an ear! d’you ever hear of a girl waking up at noon and starting to sing?” “why,” said kirk, “winifred always had a'cheerful disposition." “ until she started on the trail of clung,” corrected her father. “that’s right again." “well?” “i don’t follow you.” “ kirk, you’re a total loss.” h sorry." “the devil you are! sorry for nothing these days. you go about with your head in the air and fire in your eyes like a man about to make a million dollars. what do you do with yourself? still spending your time in y chai's house?” “ part of it,” said kirk, non-committally. “ in fact,” said the gloomy millionaire, “ you act so much like winifred that some- times i think there's a secret between you. out with it, kirk! what’s the secret?” the big man started and eyed the other carefully for a moment. .then, convinced that there was no covert suggestion in the remark, he answered: “'no secret. none between us, at least. you’ve grown suspi- cious, sampson. this clung business is getting on your nerves.” “i’ve lost twenty pounds,” groaned sampson, “ because of that damned man- killer. you came down here to help me. why the devil don’t you do it?” “ tell me where to start," suggested kirk. “if i knew where to start for him,” re- sponded the other, “ i’d send a posse and not one man." his manner changed; the father came into his voice as he laid a hand on the shoulder of kirk and went on: “as a matter of fact, i’m seriously worried, kirk. and i need your help.” “ you can count on me to the limit." “ i know i can, i know i can, my lad. and there’s a lot of comfort in the thought. i always prized you, kirk, in a good many ways—but since you’ve come south this time you seem much more of a prize than before. you seem more alert—stronger~ keener—more of a man: you seem. in a word, to have come into your own!" “ i think,” said kirk softly, and his eyes smiled rather grimly into the distance. v “ that you’re right.” “enough of that.” went on sampson. “my trouble just now is less with clung than with winifred herself. listen! you’d think the girl were in love! that phrase. there! gad! she could bring down a new york audience with singing like that!" this story began in the all-story weekly for april . oi clun g. “ she could,” nodded kirk. “ she’s dev--v ilish rare in more ways than one, sir.” “ just what do you mean by that?” “ why, nothing.” i . “here’s my point, kirk. you know how little she’s said about clung the last few days—ever since we reached kirby creek, in fact?” “yes. but she’s found something else to think about.” “ you don’t know her, lad. she’s a veri- table bulldog for hanging on to an idea. nothing but death will part her from something she wants. haven’t i raised her, confound it? well, kirk, i’ve wondered at the way she allowed clung to lapse, and i’ve watched her closely for the last few days, and last night after she’d gone to bed i sat up for a time thinking. finally i de- cided to confront her pointblank with a question. i went to her door and knocked. gad, man, what do you think happened?” “'there was no answer,” nodded kirk. sampson started violently. _ “by the lord,” he cried, “ you and she are playing some sort of a midnight game together! you’re right, there was no an- swer, and when i opened her door and went in i found the room empty and there was no sign- of winifred. the bed had not been touched. kirk, what’s the meaning of this?” “i think i can tell you-in a way.” “ what do you mean, ‘in a way’?” “ just this. the first night we came here you remember we came back pretty late after going down to yo chai’s gaming house and seeing the shooting scrape?” “exactly. the same night you went back and played the wheel. that’s what started you on this gambling, kirk.” “i wasn’t the only one who went back to kirby creek that night.” “winifred!” gasped sampson. “ exactly. she left the house just before i did. i saw her horse disappear; before i could get mine out and follow her she had disappeared toward the town. i rode hard for yo chai’s place, but she wasn’t there. i stayed a while to play the wheel, you know, and on my way back i saw wini- fred come out of a house and climb on her horse.” “come out of a house?” repeated sampson, white of face. “ exactly! i rode up to her. but she turned her horse and galloped like mad up the valley. she beat me home.” “ and you said nothing about it to me?” asked sampson hoarsely. “if she had wished you to know it, she would have told you,” said kirk coldly, “i waited for her to speak.” “ god!” breathed the elder man, and straightened to his feet. he sat down again with a thump, and his eyes remained mutely fixed upon kirk. “ you think—” he whispered. “i think nothing,” said kirk” and shruged his shoulders “but the house she came out of that night was y chai’s. perhaps clung was inside it.” “damn him!” “ it’s only a guess.” “ it must be right,” groaned sampson, “ and now she knows everything about clung—~knows he’s white—knows—” he stopped and blinked his eyes. “ kirk, i’m in hell!” “ nonsense,” said the younger man, and he frowned. “i’d trust winifred to the end of the earth. if i thought—” “ if you thought clung was in y chai’s house,” suggested ,sampson dryly, “ you’d go there with a gun to find him, and be shot from behind a door, eh? i suppose you would, kirk. that’s your way. but i know that winifred has been at yo chai’s house every night for this week or more and she’s been seeing some one there who—” he looked to kirk for help, but the other was blank. “ don’t you see?” suggested kirk. “ she likes to do strange things. she’s gone se- cretly to see clung because he’s an out of the way sort? that’s all there is to it; and she doesn’t dream that he’s white. if she did, don’t you suppose that she’d run to you to tell it? what keeps her from speaking to you now is because she knows you’re only interested on the surface in a half-breed outlaw.” , “i’ll follow her to-night,” said samp- son, hurriedly. “ i’ll follow her to-night, if she goes out, and if she goes into the house of y chai—” ' all- story weekly. “ well?” “ then god help me!” “bah!” snorted kirk. and he rose as if this conversation wearied him. “ in the mean time i’m going to find out all about clung—if yo chai really has him in shel- m." ‘“ how?” “ well, you know that i've been playing the machines in y chai‘s place?" “ yes, and beating them with fool, blind luck]! “and to-night i’m going down with a mule load of gold and play old yo chai himself. i‘m going to break him, and after he’s broke, i’ll offer him all his money back if he’ll tell me what he knows of clung." “and if he tells you?” “ i’ll take clung and serve him a hand- some horsewhipping and send him out of the country. the puppy needs a lesson for playing about with winifred in this man- ner.” the elder man searched the face of kirk with the beginning of a sarcwtic smile which gradually died away. " by gad, kirk,” he muttered at length, "'i almost believe that you’re man enough to do it. and then winifred? you’re my last hope with her, billy!” “ when the time comes,” said kirk calm- y, “ i’ll go to her and take her.” “ take -winifred?" gasped the financier, his emphasis rising. “ once," said kirk harshly, “she prom- ised to marry me. it’s a bond on her still. she’s my woman!" “ are you drunk, billy?" asked the other anxiously. “ drunk?" thundered kirk suddenly. “yes, i am drunk!" he threw his great arms above his head in a gesture of exultation. “drunk with life, sampson, and drunk with living. i‘ve crept out of the little rat- hole i used to call the world, and now i’m seeing things as they really are. drunk? if this is drunkennem i hope to god i’m never sober. winifred? bah! what is she but a woman—a pretty girl. when i want her, sampson, i’ll come and take her!” “there will be a fine little war over this," answered sampson. “i suppose i ought to be irritated to hear you talk of my daughter like this, but i’m not. it rather pleases me in a way to think of the little tyrant finding a master. but, gad, kirk, what a war there’ll be when you come to her like this! " he chuckled at the thought. “ d’you think so?" asked kirk carelessly. “ not a bit, sir, not a bit. we‘ve handled our women too gently. what they need is a mmter who’ll show ’em their right place -—and that place is at the foot of the table. s-long.” “ wait! ” called sampson, and he trotted up to the side of the big man. “ i’ve got a dozen things to ask you." i “ mariana ! " snarled kirk. “ to-day i’m busy. i’m going down now to break yo chai! "‘ chapter xxxiv. rm: load or corn. is broad shoulders bulked in the h door, blocking it from side to side, and then he swung down the path to the stable. in a few moments he was trotting down the road to kirby creek leading a pack mule behind him. it was a small pack, but a weighty one, for it contained in gold all the tens of thousands of dollars which kirk had won from the gaming house of y chai. in the street of the mining town many men knew him, for he had grown the most conspicuous figure in the gaming house of y chai. they shouted their salutations and he waved a hand back at them. a tipsy miner stopped him and proffered a drink from a flask. kirk accepted and half drained the flask at a single swallow. “where you bound?" asked the miner, who was too drunk to recognize the lucky gambler. ' “ bound for yo chai’s,” said kirk, “ with a mule~load of gold. i’m going to break him.” it was too spectacular an announcement to be overlooked. rumor took up the tale with her thousand tongues, and the tongues of rumor in kirby creek did not whisper. they shouted aloud and men heard the an- ' clun g. . nouncement with a joyous chee'r. this was better than gold-digging. some_of them had seen yo chai break skinny wallace. all of them had heard the tale. now they flocked to see the 'chinaman “get his.” they swarmed across the street in front of william kirk like the vanguard of an ad- vancing army. and kirk, his flannel shirt open -at the throat, his face darkened with the unshaven growth of two days, cheered them on, and they cheered him to the echo in return. into the doors of y chai’s place the host poured. kirk dismounted at the en- trance, tethered his horse, and strode on through the doors, leading the pack-mule straight to the center of the gaming house. the place was in riotous tumult. from every table the players stood up, staring at the strange host of invaders, and finally joining their voices to the clamor. the drunken miner who had stopped kirk in the street now went forward like a herald. in- _ stead of a baton he carried his nearly empty whisky flask. climbing onto the dais at which y chai sat, he flourished the flask around his head and brought it down on the table; it crashed in a million splinters _of shivering glass, and the gamblers at this centrakplace shrank back from the deadly shower. “get up!” yelled the drunkard. “get up and let a gen’lmun with a mule-load of gold play ag’in’ the damn’ chink!” they rose willingly enough and turned to gape at kirk, who stood with his mule behind him wagging its long ears. clung rose also, and 'smiled on the drunkard; under that cold smile the fumes of whisky receded suddenly from the fellow’s mind. “ get off the platform,” said clung gently. “ d’you think,” yelled the miner, “that any damn’ chinaman this side of hell can make me take water?” - the smile persisted on the face of clung and his head was tilting back. “quick!” he said. the miner staggered backward, keepingv his eyes, as if fucinated, on the face of the proprietor. he tripped on the edge of the platform and tumbled headlong to the floor, raising a shout of joy from the crowd. “take him,” said clung. two servants grasped him by either arm and dragged him from the place. the hub- bub rose to an inferno. through it the voice of clung cut like a knife, not loudly, but with a sharp, metallic sound distinct from the hoarse roaring of many throats. “ silence!” he calls. ' he repeated it once more, and the con- fusion died away, falling to a hum in the farther corners. “ yo chai,” said clung, turning his smile upon kirk, f has been waiting for you.- name your game.” kirk stepped onto the dais, laughing. “ for a game chap,” hesaid to yo chai, “ you rank with the best, and i hate to do it. but a gambler takes his chances. and be- cause of that i’m going to break you, y .” “this,” said clung, “ is pleasant talk to yo chai. what is the game?” “ something quick,” answered kirk. “ stud-poker, eh?” - “ you can pick your dealer,” said clung, and waved toward the crowd. kirk chose at random from the faces nearest him, and he selected a small man with white hair and beard and wrinkling eyes that shone with honesty. they settled at once around the table. so the game be- gan. as for the rest of the house, there was not a single table in action. every one stood up and waited. a self-elected talesman mounted the dais where he could command a view of the game and proceeded to en- ‘ lighten the listening crowd in a voice of thunder: “ ace to yo chai, seven of spades to kirk; jack of hearts to y , king of clubs to kirk, etc.” i _. and people cheered when kirk won and groaned when he lost. which was not often. he won the first three hands in a row and the table in front of him was piled high with chips, for the betting ran a hundred dollars‘at a clip. it was worthy of monte carlo at its reckless best. the fourth hand yo chai won. the fifth hand kirk wagered a thousand on a pair of sevens, was called b yo chai, and won over a pair of fours. be whole house went wild. manifestly there was little of skill in all- story weekly. this. it seemed the point of honor for each man to take the bet of the other, no matter how high the bet might be placed. it was gambling raised to the nth power; it satis- fied even the hardened heart of the south- west. the spectators began to pool their money and gamble recklessly on the side, for the high stakes of the central table set the pace. gold gleamed and rang on all sides, and changed hands as the voice of the stentorian announcer boomed out the results. the gold on the back of kirk’s mule had not been touched, and the chips before him were stacked high. already the spectators were beginning to imagine what the place would be in the hands of the new owner. he would be hard to beat, they all agreed. and they waited breathlessly for the time when yo chai should rise with his head tilting back and his lazy smile announce: “ gentlemen, the bank is broke! ” y a red-letter day even among the sensa- tions of kirby creek. something to be remembered. a dozen men lined the bar drinking the luck and health of kirk. every man’s voice and hand was against the “ damn’ chink.” but the certainty with which he had entered the house wa rapidly leaving the heart of kirk. it was the unshakable calm of y chai which daunted him. it was the very size of his own winnings which unnerved him. first it began to seem to him that yo chai had resources which even his greatest win- ning could never drain. then. again, he felt that the half smile on the lips of the seeming oriental was a continual mockery. perhaps yo chai had a reason for consent- ing to this game. he wondered if all his successes had been purposely planned so that he would be led on and on until he began to lose, and then he would give doubly all that he had taken. surely there must be some trickery in the thiiicss, hidden from sight. how else could any mortal man, occidental or orien- tal, sit there so calmly and see good dollars depart by the thousands. he began to hate yo chai; he began to wait for the tum- ing of the game. then he wished that he had not chosen this day for the game. then that he had not brought so much money to wager. then that he had not brought more. he decided to cash in the chips that were be- fore him, and was on the very point of doing it and turning away, when he remembered the breathless crowd which waited for his victory. he could not leave. he turned in his chair and saw on every side scores of burning eyes fatened upon him, waiting, waiting. they burned their way into his brain. he called for a drink. “ it is waiting beside you,” said yo chain “ you knew i’d drink?” thundered kirk, suddenly and unreasonably angered. “ you chink devil, d'you think you can beat me. drunk or sober? t'hell with you and your crooked plans!” he raised the glass from the tray which the patient chinese servant held, tossed off his drink and turned to wager a thousand on the hand. he lost. the chill of that loss counterbalanced the , flushing heat of the whisky. he decided to play cautiously. with care he could so husband his chips that when the house closed that night he would still save a com- fortable margin. from now on he would not wager high on anything lower than three of a kind. but once more he remembered the hun- gry, waiting eyes of the crowd. he dared not start a conservative game after that wild, spectacular opening. from the tray beside him he raised another glass. after that there came a time when he played automatically, scarcely knowing what he did, until he finally caught his voice saying: “ call a hundred, raise a hundred." and the soft rejoinder of y chai: “ with what. sir?" he looked up with a start from his trance. the chips had disappeared in front of him. they were piled now before yo chai. “lead up the mule!” he shouted to the crowd. and when the mule was led up he wrenched open one of the hampers and dragged out a ponderous canvas sack, chim- ing as he jounced it down on the table. the whole house rang with the cheer of the crowd. - ' clun g. and as if that cheer had brought him luck, he began to “in again until half the pile of chips had drifted back to his side of the table. he drank again, and ordered drinks for every one in the house. and there were hundreds. another cheer for kirk, but this time he lost. lost three heavy wagers in a row. a heavy, sullen anger possessed him, and with it a certainty that he would lose. he felt, also, that if he could break away from the table only for a moment he would change the luck of the game. now he knew that it was the eye of y chai, steady, in- flexible, which was breaking his spirit and making him play stupidly. “ i'm cramped from sitting down so long,” he said. “besides, i'm hungry. i’m going over: to the bar. to eat.” “ it is good," nodded y chai, and smiled encouragement. he wanted to take that yellow throat and crush it. it would not be hard to do; hardly the work of a moment. chapter xxxv. a pleasant evening. hen he turned from the dais and glanced over the heads of the crowd toward the doors he was astonished to see that it was already dark; yet the crowd still hung about the place, waiting. assuredly they wished him well, but it seemed as if his mind was breaking under the burden of their anxiety. there was a dull ache above his eyes as he turned toward the bar. they accepted the recess in the game with approbation and fresh rounds of drinks. they literally fought their way to get close to the gambler as he walked toward the bar, and he had to lean forward and shoul- der his way through them in a manner that reminded him of his football days. a thou- sand good wishes rang at his ear, but he said: “ give me room, boys, and a chance at a sandwich. l’m starved." a dozen hands reached to supply his wants and there were clamors to learn how much he had lost. he did not know that himself, and he shrugged the questions away with carefully assumed indifference and set himself to eating. seeing that he would not talk they turned to other topics; moreover, the game had proceeded so long that some of its interest was now worn away. finally he heard a voice near him, at the bar. lowered in the way that proclaims some- thing of vital interest. - ‘ and another man said in surprise: “ that little old chap?" and he pointed. kirk turned his head in the direction of the pointed arm and made out a withered fellow of about fifty, evidently as hard as tanned leather. he made his way unob- trusively through the crowd, which gave way before him. “'yep,” said the first speaker beside , kirk, “ that’s charlie morgan himself.” “ speakin' personal,” mused the other of the two, “ he don’t look much to me.” “he don’t,” agreed the first man, “but i’ve seen him fan his gun and knock over a rabbit at twenty yards. that's straight. they’s a lot of talk about these fast gun- fighters that fan a gun, but outside of char- lie morgan i ain’t never seen it done.” “ and him you’ve seen do it once?” sug- gested the other, scornfully. “a dozen times, i tell you. i was out with him trappin’. maybe there’s some that's faster on the draw than old charlie, but there ain’t none surer, and i bet twice on‘ the sure shooter for once on the feller that makes a snappy draw and can’t hit the side of a barn when he gets his iron out.” ' “ so he’s going out after the night hawk?" queried the other. “you don’t have to talk low. charlie wants the. whole of kirby creek to know it. he's going right down the ravine to- night with his pack~mule and he’s going to have a bit of dust in the pack. he wants the night hawk to know he’s com- ing, and he swears he’ll get dave spenser‘s hide to-night. you see, ‘happy ’ lynch was charlie’s partner, and when charlie heard that happy ‘d been bumped off by spenser, it made him so riled he couldn’t sleep of nights. so he come up here to bag the night hawk." “ here’s wishin‘ him luck,“ said the other, “but i got my doubts.” clung. past the outskirts of the town when a grow- ing light to the east drew his head to the side. it was the rising moon. chapter xxxvi. charlie morgan. nd though the valley in the daytime swarmed with a thousand laborers, in the moonlight it showed only a blank and sandy waste. the little huts scattered everywhere showed not at all, or only as blacker spots against the gray background; the hum and faint clangor of iron against rock had died away, the silence of night was complete. and by that light all things were magnified. the mountains grew taller, rougher, blacker. ' black that by contrast with them the dull sky overhead took on a shade of mysterious blue. this in turn changed, for as the moon rose the stars went out by myriads, like camp fires of a great army, extinguished at a signal. the dull sky was now a metallic gray and from the mountains thick shadows swung out and across the ,ravines. even at night there was no peace among those mountains. the eye of william kirk swept up their jagged summits or plunged down dizzy heights to the floor of the valley in swift change. those crests lunged against the sky like spear-points; they seemed possessed of motion, restless- ness, sullen change. they were a revolt against eternal order; they nodded their heads against the sky like a menace, and they roused a fellow feeling in the heart of kirk. , he, also, needed action, sudden and strong and terrible, to pacify the sullen fire within him. he wanted to destroy, overthrow. for he stood at the end of his third stride in the primitive. that night he had been baffled and beaten in the gaming house of y chai, and since he could not wreak his hate on the gambler he cast about for another object which he could seize and crumble. it was the rising of the yellow moon as it rolled like a wheel up the steep side of an eastern mountain, that gave the hint to him, for he remembered then charlie morgan, who by this time must be riding with his pack-mule up the valley. a challenge to the night hawk! and in a sudden outburst of exultation and rage, kirk threw back his head and shouted. the sound was muffled behind his clenched teeth and came like the roar of a beast; it would have frightened kirk in any other humor to feel this madness rising in him. now it stimulated him to a sort of hysteria of joy. he whirled his horse, plunged the spurs deep and galloped at full speed down the valley. he took off his sombrero and with it beat against the neck and flanks of the frantic horse. which snorted and grunted in its wild ex- citement, but could not run faster. he waved his hat to the broken heads of the mountains, he brandished it against the stars and yelled drunkenly; and the thun- der of his heart kept pace with the clangor of the hoofs of his racing horse against the rocks of the ravine. ' out of. the upper ravine he turned into the lower, with no more boulders to dodge, and a straight path for the cave of the night hawk. in a moment he was there, swung from the saddle and stumbled down the passage. it was strange how easily he entered it now. he knew by instinct every turning of the rough, rock walls. in the apartment within he found at once the matchesv kindled his tinder, and flung the saddle upon the neck of the black stallion. and the horse turned his head to watch the process, and as the light shone full in his fine face, his eyes seemed to glow yellow in fierce an- ticipation of the coming battle. he whin_ nied; he caught the shirt of kirk at the shoulder with his teeth and pulled at it softly as if to urge his flying hands to a still greater speed. there was no need to lead the charger out of the tunnel. he had been many days standing without exercise, and now he fol- lowed at the heels of kirk like a trained dog. his fore hoofs rapped many times against the hurrying heels of kirk; his hot breath whistled dovm the back of the man in front. at the entrance the stallion crouched and crawled through the low hole with uncanny agility. once outside kirk vaulted into the clung. hood when he had lain awake at night listening—all ears~to the creaks of the stairs—approaching sounds so distinct that he could even visualize the form of the night-walker, could see the size of his bony hand on the banister, the mask acros his eyes. but now he was himself the walker of the night, and the terror which he had felt in those old days had fallen upon other men, upon charlie morgan, hunter and trapper and familiar of. the wilds. out from a dense growth of mesquite came the trapper; his quirt cracked loudly on the side of the horse, which broke into a canter and passed kirk in his hiding- place so close that he could have reached out his hand and touched the flank of the animal, or seized charlie morgan by the leg and dragged him from the saddle. a maddening temptation came to do the thing; and then another temptation to yell aloud in exultation for the danger which was coming. that temptation also he restrained and stepped boldly out into the narrow path which morgan was following. “charlie morgan!” he called. here!” . and he waited with his revolver poised. all at once he knew that he could not fire on the fellow first. he would wait until morgan had drawn and blazed away. and a perfect certainty came to him that mor- gan would miss. then he would shoot-— and he could not fail. at his shout morgan whirled in the sad— dle; his steel gleamed very brightly in the moon, and by the same light kirk glimpsed the teeth of the man. his, lips were twitched back into a hideous grimace of terror. “who?” shouted the trapper, and his voice was a scream of harsh uncertainty and the will to kill. “ the night hawk! ” answered kirk, and still he stood motionless with his revolver poised. - it seemed that there were minutes be- tween everything that happened—the course of morgan—the levelling of the revolver—- the spurt of flame from the mouth of the gun—the hum of a bullet beside his arm—- giving the cloth a little tug. “i’m there were other minutes of pause while his own gun descended, while his finger pressed on the trigger, and then the bark of the bullet, kicking up the muzzle of the gun. charlie morgan threw up his arms. his revolver dropped through the moonlight like a bit of fire from the hand of the trapper. then morgan leaned forward, struck the pommel of the saddle with a grunt of sud- denly expired wind, and flopped heavily on the ground. kirk twirled the gun. his first emotion was merely joy in the easy action of the weapon. no wonder that the night hawk had killed many with such a gun. he shoved it leisurely back into the holster, and went humming to examine his work of the night. the horse sidled uneasily away and stood snorting and sniffing at the figure fallen in the path. there was gold in the pack of the mule, but kirk had no desire for it. his purpose in com— ing out there to-night had merely been to uphold the honor, in a way, of dead dave spenser. h'e kicked the saddle horse brutally in the stomach“ and the poor brute . lashed out once more with its heels and then started off at a broken gallop, tug- ging the pack-mule after _it. all at once a panic seemed to seize on the two animals. they burst into a racing pace and fled crashing through the shrubbery. kirk watched them with a, grin and then leaned down over the fallen body. it lay on its face. he turned it. there, exactly where he had intended, was the red . mark of the bullet. it had passed through the chest, directly in the center, or a little to the left. if he had located the spot with a line and compass he could not have planted the shot more carefully. “a bull’s-eye,” grinned kirk, and with his toe caught under the shoulder of mor- gan he flopped the body back upon its face. “and so,” finished kirk, “exit charlie morgan.” a soft whinny came to him through the night. i “and so," he muttered to himself thoughtfully, “reenter the night hawk?" he shrugged his broad shoulders and the burden of the murder before him slipped off his conscience. all- story weekly. “ after all)” he said, “ perhaps the eng- lishman was right.” and he went back to the black stallion. chapter xxxvii. rm: smile or yo crmr. li. that afternoon there had hung be; fore the mind’s eye of john samp~ son a problem like a problem in geometry, one of those perplexing things in which the lines and circles are simple enough, but in which the axioms of ex- planation refuse to come to mind. the problem was a certain relationship between clung and y chai. it had dwelt in his memory since the evening when y chai shot down the two mexicans and thereby gained a proud name in kirby creek, that there was some connection between the gambler and the outlawed man-killer. ever since that time he had turned and twisted the thing back and forth in his mind, but it had never become an object of vital interest until to-day, when he learned that winifred had been going regu- larly at night to the house of the gambler. now he sat for hours with his head dropped between his hands and tried to work out the puzzle. ‘it was like the man who sat in the robber’s'cave and strove to think of the magic name which would open the door, _but all that he remembered was that the name was that of some grain, so he sat call- 'ing: “ open, barley; open, wheat; open, oats,” but he could not think of the right one, the “open, sesame.” so he remained perforce in the cave until the robbers re- turned and cut him to pieces with their sabers. in such _a quandary was john sampson. he cudgeled his brain; be ground his teeth; he took to walking up and down the floor, but still he could not find the little watch- word which would admit him to the secret. all that he knew was that the relation be- tween clung and y chai, if he could call it to mind, would prove the undoing of y ; and with a lever to work on the china- man, he could gain the reason of winifred’s comings and goings to the house of y chai in the night. evening came, but still the key' to the locked room was not his. he and winifred ate supper in silence, gloomy on his part and gay on the part of the girl. now and again her eyes went through the window to dwell on the rapidly fading outlines of the hills. there was complacency in her gaze, and a certain expectation which stopped the heart of john sampson in mid-beat. he looked so worn and tired that she asked after his health. he cursed the hot nights, but made no other reply. and all the while his stern old heart was breaking in him. for he felt that his girl was being stolen away from him. and by a damned chinaman! it was some time after supper before his sharpened ear heard a stir in the room of winifred, to which she had retired under the pretext of a headache. a headache! she who had never known a sick day! a stir and then a sound suspiciously like the creak of a slowly raised window. still he waited. far off he caught the snort and stamp of a horse from the barn. a little later, listening, with the front door a little ajar, he caught the hoofs of a horse crunching faintly upon soft sand. that was all. the weight of fear turned to a burden of despair in the heart of john sampson. he felt helpless, disarmed; and this in con- junction with a wild hatred of all the world, and particularly of the patient, half smile of y chai. he remembered the whimsically wrinkled forehead, the highly arched brows, the sparse mustache of the chinaman, with an urgent desire to murder. finally he could stand it no longer, and went out of doors. before him, farther down the hill and the side of the ravine, glimmered the thousand evil lights of kirby creek. for a time he walked up and down in front of the house. then he started down the ravine. not with any pur- pose, but because he could not bear to be too close to the lonely little shack from which winifred had stolen away. his hands were clasped behind him and his head bent sadly as he entered the first street of the village. it led, like all the streets of the town, to the gaming house of y chai, and down that street john samp- clung. son strolled. he was quite heedless of all around him, yet every picture that'he saw this night was imprinted forever, indelibly, in his subconscious brain. in the door of one hut stood a'very tall woman, her figure swaying out in front, her arms akimbo. one lock of hair straggled down her cheek, plastered against it with sweat. she chuckled at the sight of a little boy rolling and wrestling with a big, shaggy dog in the center of the street, and her laughter was like a succession of grunts, a struggle between weariness and mirth. farther on a group of youngsters, having found a streak of clayey ground which would hold the peg, were playingv mumble-the-peg, and their faces were besmeared with mud. the heart of john sampson ached in envy of the parents who had these thoughtless young- sters for their own. at least they were too mindless to lock secrets inside their hearts. still farther down the street he passed an. old indian, blind, with his shapeless squaw squatted beside him. the indian thrummed on a guitar from which several strings were lacking, and he sang in a whining guttural snatches of popular airs —almost unrecognizable because the words appeared only here and there, and the blank spaces between were filled with humming. yet there was a smile on the face of the indian, and contentment on the face of the greasy squaw with her hand held forever straight before her, asking aims. and an envy even of these two came to john sampson. they were near to the soil; they had not even the capacity for great pain- a crowd had gathered before the jewel- er’s window. in imitation of the shops in great cities, he kept his window lighted all night, and he displayed his full assortment of gleaming wares, guarded by two armed men, one on either side of the window. it was the only piece of plate-glass in kirby creek. three large lanterns supplied the illumination. and in front of the window was a large group. they were all talking at the same time; they were picking out the stones they would buy on the morrow, or when they made their big strike. they were all happy, and sampson hurried past. happiness in others was painful to him this night. \ now the distant roar of the gaming house reached him plainly, like the sound of distant surf. straight to the door of the house he went, and looked in toward the central table with a malevolent eye. but yo chai was not there. ,that was the meaning, then, of the early hour at which winifred had left the house. he had a man point out yo chai’s pri- vate dwelling behind the gaming house, and in front of it, across the street, he stood for a long ‘ time, purposeless, helpless, meaningless. and still the problem surged through his brain, maddening him. the relation between yo chai and clung“ what could it be? what was the one word _the open sesame? yet he could not be absolutely sure that winifred was in this house. certainly kirk said that he had seen her come out of the house on one night, but that was not a suffi- cient proof to his aching heart. there was nothing better for him to do. it would be at least a sort of semioccupation. he decided to sit down on a rickety 'box near- by and wait for a time to see if winifred would come out of the house. yes, and if be confronted her suddenly was there not a possibility that she would tell him every- thing—all the reasons which made her come to the house of y chai—whether or not clung were actually concealed there? the thought made john sampson ahnost happy. he sat down on the box and com- posed himself for a long wait, for hours, if necessary. yet to his mind, busied as it was every moment by the problem, it was not a very long time before the door of the house opened. at the entrance stood a tall, bulky chinaman with his hands stuffed in the alternate sleeve. he looked slowly up and down the street, and then, as if satisfied that there was no one in plain sight, he stepped back through the door. almost at once a woman slipped out upon the steps, and turned back toward the door. her face was away from him. and the light which fell upon her was very dim, but he knew with strange certainty that this was winifred, just as a child knows the step of its father on the pave- ment and runs to the door prepared. so all - story weekly. sampson stared through the gloom and knew that it was winifred who stood there, poised on the steps of the chinaman‘s house. he started up from the box and made a step across the street when another form appeared in the door and he stopped his progress. it was y o chai. the light at the en- trance fell plainly across his face, showing with distinctness even the sparse black mustache of the oriental. and he stood with his head tilting back, smiling down upon the girl. she waved her hand. a hand, thin to frailty, appeared from the loose sleeve of y chai and waved adieu in response. winifred turned and passed down the street; the door closed upon yo chai. yet sampson made no effort to turn down the street and intercept his daughter. his mind was filled with an image which. had started out suddenly upon it, of y chai, pushing back his chair in the gam- ing house on that now distant night, and smiling. the clue to the problem was upon him with a rush. it was in the smile of y chai and the smile of clung. one smile and one man. clung and y chai—they were one and the same. and sampson shook his clenched fist above his head and then started almost at a run fo the door of y chai. ' v chapter xxxviii. the gambler’s spirit. he door was opened to him by the bulky chinaman he had first seen there, and in his excitement he would have pushed past the fellow had not a vast arm shot out and blocked the way as effec- tively as a stanchion of wood. “ go tell cl—go tell yo chai that john sampson will speak with him—at once,” commanded the financier. the big oriental turned his head leisurely and spoke in a tremendous guttural, chang- ing to a whine of question, ridiculously thin and high at the end. f mm the interior of the house a soft voice which sampson could barely hear, made answer, and then the bulky arm was withdrawn and he stepped into the little, boxlike hall of y chai. the servant pointed to a screened doorway at one side of the hall, and step- ping past this, sampson found himself in front of y chai, who sat among a heap of cushions reading from a large book of chinese characters sampson found him- self at once perfectly at ease. it was rare, indeed, that he was embarrassed in an inter- view. it was his stock in trade. he measured the lean face of the other with a critical eye. ‘ “ i suppose,” he said with a half—smile, “that you won’t pretend that you don’t know me?” “ no,” said the other, rising. “ yo chai remembers when you sat at his table and played a little game. there were two mexi- cans who came behind us. it is true.” and he bowed very low to john sampson. “just now,” said the businessman, “i don’t give a damn what yo chai remembers. i‘m more interested in what clung has to sav.” - the bow of clung was still under way, and he remained a moment with partially' bent head. when he raised his face it was expressionless. i “when i look into your face,” said sampson with some admiration, “ i'm al- most puzzled again to know you, but i’ve seen through the riddle, my friend, and it can never puzzle me again.” clung silently pointed to the low divan. “thanks,” said sampson, and he seated himself with a sigh of comfort. manifestly he was complete master of the situation. “i was perfectly certain,” he went on, smiling upon clung, “that the age of dis- guises was past. but i see that you’ve resurrected it again. and very well done, clung. very well done, indeed.” clung bowed as profoundly as before, his eyes going past sampson and apparently focusing on the screen behind him, as if at that moment another person were enter- ing the room. “ to put you entirelytat your ease,” went on sampson, “ i’ll tell you that it’s unneces- sary to be quite so oriental before me. i know you’re a white man, clung.” all- story weekly. “well,” said sampson slowly, drawing out every word, “damn my eternal eyes!" “that would be a great sorrow," said clung.” “are you mocking me?" barked the financier. clung waved a slim, deprecatory hand. “don’t put me aside with any asinine trivialities like this. i haven’t come to lis- ten to poetry. i want some hard facts. clung, why does the girl coine here?” and like the hard facts which sampson demanded, the face of clung grew stern and expressionless. “ listen to me,” said the older man with a sudden change of tactics. “i am her father, clung. haven’t i the right to know?” it was like the melting of ice in spring—— so swift was the change of clung’s eyes. he bowed once more, and then stood erect, his eyes at the feet of sampson. “ clung had forgotten,” he said softly, “ but now he will make himself open. you can read in me." chapter xxxix. sampson hunts coor. air. “ ad," answered sampson more gently, l “ i see you are white—in more ways than one. now tell me frankly. why does my girl come to you?" “ to talk to clung." ~ “ come, come! what do you mean by that one word?” “ t o talk to clung,” said the other, with a certain contemptuous emphasis—“ clung, a dog of a chinaman! ” the eyes of sampson widened marvel- ously. “ you mean to say that you haven‘t told her that you are white?" “ if she knew that clung is white,” he answered, with a touch of sadness, “she would come no longer.” the mind of sampson whirled; and there was an infinite relief which struck him like a cool breeze on a very hot day. “ i think i understand, but make it clear- er. i must know exactly what you mean ' her.” “to give the child up? clung waited, searching for the clue. “a horse you know,” he said at last, “ you have no pleasure in riding. he is yours. he will run straight. he will not buck or shy or balk. there is no pleasure in riding him. is it not true?” “ah! i begin to see. go on!” “a man you know, he may be your friend, but you will not go a great distance to see him or to hear him talk. but a man you do not know, you may not like him, you may hate him, you may be afraid of him, but you will go a great ways to see him and to hear him talk. is it not true?” “ exactly!” “your daughter—winifred—she finds me a strange book—because i am written in chinese!” he stopped and laughed. a little scornful- ly, a little bitterly. “ it is true,” said clung again. “ my words are strange to her. she looks at me as if she saw me at a great distance and wished to see me closer. it is because— clung is a dog of a chinaman. but if she knew clung to be a white man she would shrug her shoulders—soe—and never come again.” “ i wonder,” said the other thoughtfully, and then he shook his head. “ clung, i'm afraid that you’re not altogether right.” he smiled with a sharp interest at the younger man. “ i wish i could believe it, but i can’t— altogether. i’m afraid there may be— something else.” “what?” asked clung, with a ring in his voice. but sampson shrugged his shoulders. “ i am going to ask you to stop her from coming here, clung.” the other straightened, his lips drawing to a thin line. “ give her up?” he asked in a dull voice that alarmed sampson. “ suppose a wo- man has one child—would you ask her suppose a painter has one great picture—would you ask him to give it up? could you borrow or beg or buy the picture from him?" “ if it was for the betterment of the child,” said the other anxiously, “the wo- man would give up the child.” clung. t the pause came again. “ it is true,” said clung in a faint voice. then his eyes rose and met the gaze of sampson with such intensity that it was like the shock of a physical force. “why must clung give up seeing her?” “ because it is bad for her.”, “ is there poison in this air? is clung a dog who bites? answer!” and the ring in his voice, though it was not loud, shook sampson tremendously. ' “ for the oldest reason in the world,” he answered, “ and for one which you have already named yourself. her way of life is not your way of life. how would people speak of her if they knew she stole out by night to visit—a chinaman?” he brought out the word with a brutal force. “ then i shall no longer be a chinaman. i_ shall be clung, a. white man!” “ clung, a hunted outlaw, reputed a half- breed. her friends would turn her from their doors.” ' there was that solemn pause again, and then the bitter voice of clung: “ it is true, and the opinions of other people are very _ loud in the ears of women. my father, li clung, has said it.” “ then—~” queried sampson with some- thing of pity softening his voice. “ i shall tell her to-night that i am white,” said clung simply. “no, no, no!” cried sampson. “not that, clung, in the name of heaven!” “ and why?” “ for many reasons.” he stopped, stammering. it was hard and shameful for him to speak the fear which was in him. _“ speak quickly,” said clung, “and tell clung what. he must do. like a whip on a raw place; clung is very tired!” “ i’will be as brief as i may,” said the other, “ and i expect you to keep on meets ing me half-way, as you’ve done so far. in the first place, she has been very often to see you, has she not?” “it is true.” “ and she is glad to be with you?” the head of clung tilted—the familiar musing smile touched his lips. “ she seems very glad,” he murmured. “ gad!” said sampson to himself. “what a rotten mess it all is—for all of us!” he said aloud, gruffiy: “ i’m going to ask you to have a woman in here with you the next time winifred comes. and when winifred sees you with a woman i’ll guar- ' antee that she’ll never come back.” “a woman?” said clung blankly, and then he started. “ a concubine?” “ not a bit, not a bit!” said the other, reddening furiously. “but only a girl—a chinese girl—there are plenty of them around the town—who will seem to be—er -—familiar with you. you get my‘point, clung?” “ it would certainly be a lie,” said clung hoarsely. “ sometimes a lie is excusable. besides, my dear boy, you’ve certainly told little lies before.” a “ i have never told a lie,” said clungr quietly, “ except to say once that my name was john ring, and once again that my name was yo chai.” it was so naive that sampson had to bite his lip to keep from smiling. “ is it the only way to drive her away?” said clung. “it is the only sure way,” answered sampson. clung stiffened, and his hands straight- ened at his sides; he stood like a soldier at attention. “if it drives her away,” he said, " it will mean that she thinks of me now as— a white woman might think of a white man!” “eh?” grunted sampson. “ for why,” said clung rapidly, “ should every minute isvshe care if a dog of a chinaman has a concubine? is it not true?” “ i don’t mean that she thinks of you in that way,” answered sampson with a hur- ried anxiety. “ god forbid! i’m merely telling you the sure way of sending her back to me and away from you. and you admit that {.that is a good thing.” “ it is true,” said clung, panting, after another of those deadly pauses. and he added: “ but it will prove—if she gues when she sees the chinese girl—that clun g. ' but clung was not there, and she had been on the divan for several moments be- fore he appeared, hastily, and bowed before her. he relaxed on his usual pile of cush- ions and sat with folded arms staring straight before him; and he made her, think of a pleased child which waits to be ques- tioned about the meaning of a surprise. everywhere about the room were the flowers, the green things which seemed so priceless in the middle of the desert; they must have been conjured into existence; they could not have grovm. and the very dress of clung showed that it was an ex— traordinary occasion. his robe was a rich brocade rustling so stiffly that it was almost a crackle when he moved. the pigtail was of enormous length and braided with perfect symmetry; the skull-cap was embroidered with golden thread. at length she could keep in her questions no longer. “ what is it, clung?” she asked impetu- ously. "‘ is all this in honor of my com- ing? tell me?” “ when one ofvrny fathers took a' woman into his house,” said clung, and for the first time his eyes rose from the floor and rested gravely upon her, “ he always made the place pleasant for her coming. clung, also, has done this.” “ take a woman in your house?” she queried, with sudden alarm and, rising, she noted again that the doors behind her, as usual, were locked. “ what do you mean, clung?” “ only what clung says, that to-night he takes a woman in his house.” the eyes were very blank as they rested , upon her, but the old tales of the treachery of the oriental swarmed back upon her mind and made her blood cold. “ clung, have you dared—” she began, until her voice grew weak and she stopped perforce. every door was locked behind her. what could she do? “ have you dared to think of keeping me .here?” she asked at length, with as much grief as fear in her voice. “ you?” queried clung in gentle surprise, and be tapped softly, once, on the gong beside him. the answer was a little chinese girl who came slowly through the doorway—slowly,- for her feet were painfully small. hen trousers and all her dress were of the whit- est of white silk, and they, like the robes of clung, were everywhere broidered with rich thread of gold. a necklace of jade, earrings of pearl, bracelets of woven gold with little emeralds in the design of a tiny dragon—she had never seen so rich a cos- tume. the face was round and the features diminutive, but not unpleasant, and there was about her that air of infinite refinement, vmilleniums of culture, which the chinese sometimes bear about them. and still winifred could not or would not quite understand. “ who,” winifred asked sharply, “ is this person?” and clung made answer carelessly, mak- ing the girl sit down beside him in obedi- ence t _his gesture: “ this is a woman of the house of clung.” “ a woman?” repeated winifred slowly, “ a woman?” and then, after a breathing space: “i never dreamed that you were married,- clung!” “married?” he repeated, and his eye- brows arched a little. “no, no! why should clung take a wife, a burden upon his shoulders? this is only a woman, a handmaid for clung; he has often been lonely.” ’ “ a woman!” whispered winifred, and her eyes dwelt on the face of the girl, pale for one of her race, with a ‘tint like peach! bloom in her cheeks, slant, dark eyes, and little, white teeth. “but let us talk,” said clung. “you may talk very freely 'before the girl. she will understand no more than the image of the greatest!” he rose and bowed to the hideous, grin- ning idol and sat down again. “or if you wish,” went on clung ami- ably, “ clung will send the girl away. she is here to come and go at the will of clung.l is it not true?” he turned to the girl and spoke sharply, to her in chinese, and she nodded slowly—- and very low, and all the while her eyes all-story weekly. were fixed in mute submission upon the race, of the master. winifred rose, and she had to remain standing a moment, gripping the back of the divan and squinting her eyes tight while her senses cleared. the voice of clung, concerned, eagerly inquiring, brdke in upon her. “ there is a sickness upon you?” he asked. “ you are faint? it is true? the sight of the girl sickens you? clung will send her away!” she forced her eyes open, at that, and it seemed to her that the face of clung had changed, grown grim, and all the fea- tures were more sharply defined, as though a pain were etching them more and more deeply. “no,” she managed to say at length, “ keep the girl, keep her by you always, in case you should grow lonely again.” “but,” said clung, stepping beside her as she went feebly toward the door, feeling her way, “ but you do not go so soon from clung? he has many things to say!” her strength returned with a sudden out- burst; she whirled on him. “i’ve heard the last of your talk,” she said fiercely. “it is tiresome to a white girl. stay here and herd with your yellow cattle. i shall never see you again.” and she walked quickly to the door and out of the house, but as the door slammed it seemed to clung that he heard something like a sob. or was it only a natural sound of the night, for the wind was rising? he remained where he had been stand- ing, his hand stretched out after the girl, but his arm fell almost at once to his side, and his head lifted. he saw the little chinese girl staring at him with wide eyes and blanched lips—blanched in spite of their rouge. “what shall i do?” she asked faintly in chinese. he heard the words, but not the mean- in . gshe rose and came to him with her small, painful steps. * “ the white woman,” she said, “ is pos- sessed of a devil. she has cast a spell upon my master. but i will burn incense and drive the devil away!” “ could you do that?” he asked dully. “ ah!” she said with a little smile. “ the heart of wu is very great to serve her mas- ter.” “then go away from me,” said clung, “i have no more need of you. i need nothing but silence.” “ this is the voice of the devil the white woman has thrown upon you, and not the voice of y chai,” she said wistfully. he drew his purse from the loose sleeve, the purse of wire net worked with the figure of the dragon, and from it he took gold pieces and placed them in the small palm of the girl. ' “ you are paid,” said clung. “ go!” still she hesitated, her eyes large, and fixed steadily upon him; her lips moved, but no words came. then she bowed to the floor and, turning, went with her small, painful steps from the room. she stopped at a table of ebony and on it she laid the gold which clung had given her. when she went on, her head was bowed, and clung, standing with his head back, and that half-smile upon his lips, heard the be- ginning of a sob as the door whisked to behind her. he laughed softly. “ clung also,” he said, “ clung also; the sound of it is growing big in his throat. but why should be he a woman?" he gathered himself and pulled the robe tightly about his breast. he rose almost to tiptoe and cast out his hand, palm up, to the mocking face of the idol. “ i am clung,” he said defiantly—— “i am clung, the son of ,li clung. it is true!” and he sat down in the divan and pro- duced his long-stemmed pipe, placed a pinch of tobacco in the bowl, lighted it, puffed twice or thrice deeply; knocked out the ashes, and refilled the miniature bowl, and so on and on, smoking until the blue haze formed in front of him and rose like heavy incense and drifted across the face of the idol until it observed the grin and left only the bright, beady eyes staring down through the smoke. to be concluded next week. don’t forget this magazine is issued weekly, and that you will get the conclusion of this story without waiting a month. inform mr. sweeney. but jim didn’t appear to be troubled that way at all. did i say that jim had probably dropped in for a bite or two be- fore going home? i take it back. after a while it began to look as if he had dropped in for a meal or two, and probably two. but everything comes to an'end, and finally, when louise looked as if she was going to keel over in a faint or something the very next minute, and there have been times when i’ve felt a lot better myself in some ways, because if jim ever did tumble to us, believe me, there would certainly be some scandalous doings. finally the waiter brought jim’s check, and it paid it. and then he got up and started to leave—and stopped. i looked for the reason—~and saw six of ’em. one in every exit. cops! the place was pinched! it was a raid. it was nothing else; but i want to say right here that that doesn’t mean that the place wasn’t a decent enough place. it was. but it was like this: somebody had been riding the mayor, or the _police com- missioner, or somebody, and they had start- ed in to clean things up, and they were do- ing it—regardless. but of course, right then, all this was be-' side the question. the real question seemed to ibe~what next? well, of course there were all sorts of possibilities, mostly unpleasant; but i didn’t have the time then, and i won’t take it now, to go into ’em. here’s what hap- pened: as a general thing these raids are pulled off without a whole lot of fuss. the cops separate the sheep from the goats, and the sheep are turned loose, and the goats take a ride on the city; and that’s all there is to it. [but this one turned out different. somebody started something right off the bat, and in an instant the place was in an uproar. in the next instant it was a riot. men were fighting, women screaming, and crockery being smashed all over the place. all in all, if you ask me, there is no bet- ter place to stage a riot than in a restau- rant. a restaurant sort of lends itself to the occasion, so to say. anyway, this one did. as riots go, it was a larb! and maybe it would give us the chance we were looking for. i grabbed louise, started to make a break for an exit, and— ran spang into a bluecoatl he gripped me by the shoulder and said: . “ hello, bud, what‘s your hurry?" it was dick byrnes, an old pal of mine; a fellow i knew well; a rabid baseball fan. and if a feller ever needed a friend, this was one of the times. so i was going to put it up to dick to get us out of there, when-— “ bud! look out!" sang louise. i don’t know what made me do it—may- be it was instinct—~but i ducked down and away, and—zowie! jim riordan connect- ed with byrnes in the same place and in the very same manner that i landed on jim that day after the ball game! now anybody will tell you that any time you hit a. cop in the eye you have done something. anyhow, it brought jim to reason, and before byrnes could start in using the wood on him, jim began coming across with his alibi. byrnes, hanging on to his eye with one hand and his club with the other, listened for a moment, and then he cut in: _ “ ah, tell it to sweeney! say, what cl’ye thing i am, a sucker? you didn’t go to hit me at all! aiming to hit somebody else! “ and believe me, i’m wise to you! you‘re riordan, the ump—and many‘s the time i’ve ached for a chance to lay my mitts on you! come along with me!” “listen, dick,” i said. “just a' min- ute." and i came through with the whole story, in a hurry. “and so you see.” i wound up, “ it was me he was looking for. can’t you get us out of this?” it came hard; but it came. “ all right,” growled byrnes, “ i'll get you out of it.” and he did. after we had gone a little ways~~jim was pretty subdued, and didn’t seem to no- tice that i was there—louise asked, very innocent: “ dad, what under the sun pos- sessed you—~to hit a cop?” jim started in—trying to explain. “tell it to sweeney!” i kidded him. “i did!” said jim. - “how many times?” i asked him. “would you admit that a thing like that could \happen, say, twice?” “say,” said jim, “shall i apologize?” < . marx brand author »| r m um." " uni-$- a in night.” " 'i‘rllin',” tic. chapter xli. the ballad of thompsole mule. he voice of william kirk went 'be- i fore him through the night, a great and ringing voice which the steep sides of the ravine caught and flung down again in sharp echoes, so that it was hard to tell from what direction the singing came; it seemed to be showering out of the sky. kirk galloped his horses straight on through the door of the stable and brought him to a 'long, sliding halt on the boards within, a thunderous proceeding; and when he had torn off the saddle 'he rwent on into the house, singing again. he found john sampson, in a state of great agitation, walking up and down the room. there was a cigar in his mouth, unlighted, but chewed to the edge of the wrapper. “shut up!” commanded sampson. “ can't think with this infernal minstrel show of yours going on!" “and why think?” asked kirk in his big voice. “why think, sampson? do something better.” .“ such as what?" said the smaller man, and he halted with his arms aggressively akimbo. “why,” answered kirk carelessly, “ eat. and'sleep, and eat again. they’re both 'better things than thinking. thinking. sampson, has wom the hair off your head. and look at my shock?" he ran his fingers through it so that it this story began in the al stood up on erid, and burst into a thunder- ous laugh. then he began again: “old thompson, he had an old gray mule, and he drove him around in a cart. he loved that mule and the mule loved him with all his mulish heart !“ “ kirk!” shouted sampson. “ in the name of god, stop that damned racket!" but the big man now sat in a chair that creaked and groaned under his weight, tilt- ed back, 'his face turned up to the ceiling. his paruse was only to take breath, and he roared again: “when the rooster crowed old thompson knowed that the day was a-goin’ to break; he rubbed him down with the leg of a stool and he curried him off with a rake; and that mule— ’ “ kirk!” yelled sampson. “ well?" queried the musician. “ if you won‘t stop i’ll 'leave the house!” “ what’s the matter, man?" “ thth infernal racket will drive me mad.” “stop your walking, sit down, and for- get your worries. what is it? winifred still?” “winifred always,” moaned sampson. and he literally collapsed into a. chair and mapped his forehead. kirk grinned broadly upon 'him. sampson sat up with a jerk that threw the purple blood into his forehead and shook his fist at the younger man. “ when “ —~ he thundered ~ “ when are l-story weekly for april . clung. you going to do what you promised—take the girl in hand?“ “when i get tired of kirby creek,” an- swered the other coolly. “at present i find it interesting—very! ” “ w‘here’ve you been for the last footy- eight hours?” asked sampson, wearily, shrugging away the thought of his last question, and then his eyes sharpened to a rather malicious light. “ i suppose,” he said, “ you’ve been off by yourself trying to forget what happened in the house of y chai the other day? ha, ha, ha, ha! well, lad, those who won’t take advice have to learn -by experience. i knew what would happen when you sat down opposite yo chai, the d oriental magician. a mule-load of gold lost—- thrown away—ha, ha, ha! i’ll tell this when we get north!” “ don’t hurry with your story," said kink with twisting lip and a pale face. “ wait till you see what happens with the second load of gold.” "‘ gad!” breathed sampson, sitting bolt upright and grasping either arm of his chair. “lad, you aren’t fool enough to go back and try =nhe same route? kirk, i know you have plenty of money, but a croesus himself could go broke at the table of y chai—~playing the way you play! the first money you lost was what you’d already won. this next bunch will be your own coin! ” “perhaps,” said kirk, and smiled mys- teriously, for he was thinking again of the boxes of gold and dust rwhioh he had taken from the cave of the night hawk and poured into his saddle-bags that night. all the readily convertible coin of the bandit was in his load, and it made a less bulky but a richer cargo than that which he had borne into the house of y chai on the back of mule the day before. vhe changed the subject. “'and where is winifred now?” “she started from the house an hour ago,” said sampson. i “then we might as well go to bed, now. it ’ be near midnight before she returns.” “other nights, yes,” answered sampson, “ but to-night, i think—god knows how i hope it-will be her last trip to yo ohai!” he rose and resumed his hurried pacing of the floor. “talk of something else,” he command- ed. “i’ll go mad if i let my mind dwell on that girl of mine!” “what shall we‘ chatter about?” said kirk, and he yawned. “ anything—what the whole town is talking about.” “ what’s that?” “ "dhe murder of charlie morgan.” “eh?” queried kirk sharply, for some- how that brief and brutal word shocked 'him. “ murder?” be repeated. “ murder!” nodded sampson. “ damn- able, cold-blooded murder! the night hawk again. strange how long they let that follow roam around!” “ strange, indeed,” said kirk, and smiled carelessly. “ haven’t you heard about the murder?” “ not a wor ." “ where’ve you been? this morgan seems to have been a harmless old trapper ~a good shot, they say, in his younger “days. the other day he made some drunk- en boast about leaving the town with a pack of gold dust and going straight through the night hawk’s territory. well, he started, and that devil met him and shot him down in cold blood. didn’t even take the _poor devil’s money. they found it all in the mule-pack-shortly after they located the body to-day. think of it, kirk; think of the cold-souled fiend who [would shoot down an old man like that!” “ rotten,” said kirk with dry throat. “ the town is wild about it,” said samp- son. “even the chinaman—your friend yo chai—is up in arms and has offered a reward for the apprehension of the nigit haw-k. seems that yo chai had befriend- ed old morgan and staked him with grub and supplies when he started on his trip the time before'last. now he wants the blood of the night hawk, but i suppose even the chinaman‘s money can’t get that.” “ neither his money nor his luck,” said kirk. ‘ sampson turned swiftly on him. “ you say that in an odd way,” he mur- mured thoughtfully. kirk frowned. all - story weekly. “ don‘t look at me like that, sampson,” he said coldly. “ in what way?” “by god, i won’t stand for it!" thun- dered kirk, with a sudden, mad rage. “sampson, i swear there‘s an accusation in your eye!” “ good god, kirk! ”' gasped the old man, starting 'back from the other. “ are you mad, boy? what do you mean? accusa- tion of what?" kirk set this fists in tight knots and forced the fire out of his eye. “ nothing,” he said in a strangled voice. “the fact is, sampson, my nerves haven’t been of the best ever since that demon yo ghai got the money from me yesterday." “ let it go at that," muttered sampson. and then he started at the memory of what he had seen, and looked partly with awe and partly with curiosity at kirk. “ why, man,” he said softly, “ there was murder in your eye a minute ago. m urderl" “nonsense,” said kirk, and he waved the thought away with a flourish of this ponderous hand. “ utter nonsense, samp- son. but what's that?" the front door opened, and winifred stood in the opening. her face was very white; her eyes filmed as if with weariness or some kindred emotion. her expresion was so strange that sampson jumped to his feet and fairly ran to her. “ why, winifred,” he called. the matter, girl?” “ nothing— everything!” she answered in a. dull voice—and crossed the room to her door. she paused there with her hand on the knob and turned toward them. “ dad, we leave here to-morrow. i can’t stay another day. i’m .tired of the place. sick of it! ” and she vanished into the room. samp- son caught kirk by the shoulders and shook him joyously. “did you hear, lad?” he cried softly. “ did you hear?” “ what the devil has happened?" “ to-morrow we start." “ to-morrow evening! then i take my last whirl at yo chai to-morrow afternoon. but what has happened?" “ y chai-j’ “ what’s “damn him! i‘ve stood enough from him. i'll— ’ ‘ “hush, lad! neither of us is worthy of kiming the show of that—chinaman!" chapter xlii. rm: couwrenrmr gum. here are some places where two make a crowd, in spite of the old say- ing, and certainly in no place could it have been truer than in those early days in kirby creek. on the day when william kirk rode into town with a mule-tload of gold to gamble away in an effort to break the bank of y chad’s gambling-house, the whole town turned out and stayed hour by hour watch- ing the historic game. yet, only itwo days later, when he went under identical cir~ oumstances with a far larger sum to wager, men hardly turned their heads to watch him pass. it rwas an old, old story. had it not been seen before? and were they the men to care for a twice-told tale? to be sure, there were a few who had not seen the proceedings of the day before, and though they had been told of them, ‘ they would hardly 'believe. now they formed a comparatively large crowd watch- ing around the central table at which w-il- liam kirk played against yo chai. but there was no stentorian announcement fol- lowing t-he dealing of every card, and in a deadly silence they played. it was stud poker again, but this time, as though luck itself had wearied of the persistence of wil- liam kirk, it held steadily against him. his gold coin passed acros the table, and after that the gold dust was weighed and followed the coin duly. and then the nug- gets, and last a considerable stock of jew- els, and still the river of misfortune caught up the chips of william kirk and carried them away to the side of y chai. there was no mental suu'poi‘ to .which kirk could attribute his defeat this day. he touched no liquor, and there was no spell cast over him by the steady eye of the gambler, and still he lost. his wits were sharper than they had ever been be- fore in his life, and in spite of himself there clun g. ~ all that is his, even his name, and therefore his children must leave him. y chai will sit here and wait. his children will hasten and prepare the things that are theirs. also, if they see other things about the house which they can carry, and which they cherish, they are welcome to those also.” they bowed again, and were gone like leaves before the wind. thereafter, for the next few minutes, figures scurried soft- footed into the room and went out again more slowly, and things disappeared as sand melts under a heavy rain. they were taking the word of their “father” at its most extreme value. finally, when he struck his gong at the end of an hour, they came with their bundles. “ yo chai will pay you." -“ we have 'been paid,” they protested, “ ten times the value of our wretched lives. we have been paid many times." --“ nevertheless,” said yo chai, still smil- ing, “you shall he paid again.” and he putled from one of those capa- cious sleeves his purse of wire-net engraved with the form of the dragon. from this he shook out a little handful of gold for each of them, emptying the purse. they bowed; they almost beat their foreheads on the floor at his feet. they called the blessings of a thousand gods upon him, and clung sat all the time with his head tilting back and that musing smile touching at the cor- ners of his lips. then they were gone. but before he 'had a chance to rise the door opened again and the big mongol stood once more before him. he prostrated himself almost at full length, and clung knew with a sudden thrill that this was the prostration of a man who knew the ways of the imperial court of china. “ rise, my son,” said clung. the big chinaman stood erect. “ythese,” he said, and his contemptuous thumb indicated the other servants who had already passed through the door, “ are not worthy, but gee wing has seen many times and great masters. there is danger coming to his master. gee wing will come also.” “would you follow yo chai, gee wing?” “around the edge of the world." said the big mongol. “but go north into a cold country,” said clung. “gee wing laughs at the cold.” “ it cannot be,” said clung. “ yo chai is going where no other chinaman that ever lived could follow.” and he smiled strangely. gee wing prostrated himself again. then he rose. “there is only one door at which gee wing cannot stand guard for yo chai,” he said sadly. “ farewell.” and he also was gone, and the door banged heavily behind his hurrying feet, and the long echo went mourning through the house. chapter xliii. purification. ut there was no mourning in the man- ner of clung as soon as gee wing disappeared. rather there was some- thing approaching a quiet happiness, and a phrase came over and over again on his soundless lips. he went directly to his wash-room, filled a tub with steaming water, threw off his chinese robes, and stepped in. the change was almost instantaneous, and when he stepped out his lean, muscular body was a pure white. for the long wearing of the yellow stain and the life indoors day and night had removed the last vestige of the tan from the skin of clung. he removed the long pigtail; his black hair was cropped short. then from the closet of his own room he brought out hidden clothes, the common wear of a cow-puncher. about his waist he buckled a belt of cartridges with a heavy forty-five swinging low in its holster. he drew the gun and spun the cylinder, and as he did so his head went back once more and the familiar musing smile was again on his lips. the moment the gun was back in its holster the attitude of clung changed sharply. he stood with his feet close together, and his eyes glancing restlesst about, so that he gave the impression of one who had stolen into a house where he i clung. but plainly it was a hopeless struggle to‘ beat down the fires. they were too care- fully started, and the frame buildings went up with a puff and a roar like so many piles of tinder. still the bucket-lines persisted in their labors for an obvious reason. yo chai’s chief clerk was among them. running here and there, wringing his long- nailed fingers and shrieking out directions, pleas, offers of reward to the rescuers. twenty dollars for every man who helped quench the flames; fifty dollars for every man who put in an hour’s work; a hundred dollars for every man on the spot when the flames were quenched. that offer called in the other bucket-lines which were pouring streams of water steadily over the roofs and walls of the near-by houses. moreover, it was plainly seen that on that windless night there was no danger that the fires would jump from the big gaming-hall to the neigh- boring dwellings. so peaceful was the air that the four yellow and red-stained columns of flame over the gaming-house and the dwelling of y chai rose in steady towers, leaping higher now and again as if they were trying to kindle the stars above them, but never shaken from side to side by any gust of wind. the smoke soared straight up above the columns of the flames, but then it shelved away as if it were heavier than the air, and settled in a broadening roof down to the streets of the town, thick, choking. inside the gaming-house, in spite of the steady streams of water from the buckets, the flames had swept across the floors in red tides of fearful heat. the faces of, the foremost fire-fighters were blistered and seared raw. they staggered back in groups, blind, reeling, and collapsed on the street. yet others rushed up against the flames to take the places of the men who were exhausted. hysteria had seized the workers. some of them shook their fists at the flames and cursed horribly; others were laughing, drunk with excitement. and an intoxi- cated man with a half-empty flask in his hand reeled down the sidewalk opposite the gaming-house singing at the top of his voice, so loudly that the sound penetrated through the hubbub of the crowd. suddenly clung saw his five servants. they stood in a line, one behind the other, each with his hands thrust into alternate sleeves, and they looked upon the conflag- ration with calm, unmoved faces. one of the deputy sheriffs rushed _up to them and required them with curses to aid in the rescue work, but they shrugged their shoul- ders and remained impassive witnesses. clung worked his horse a little closer to them, curiously. the flames belched more wildly above the buildings and cast a bright light over the group of chinese. something was wet and gleaming on the face of the big mongol who had kept the door of y chai. and as if inspired by the coming of clung, the others lifted their heads to- gether and gave voice to a wild, discordant wail, repeated monotonously over and over again, a lament for the dead. this, then. was their understanding of how yo chai, their father, had purified himself for an- other life into which no chinaman that had ever lived could follow him. there was a roar of descending timbers, ending in a boom and crash, and a vast shower of sparks darted up into the night and went out. that flare of light picked the whole town out of the heart of the night and gave it back to the day for an instant. women screamed and began shouting encouragement to the ‘workers; but oh- viously the end was near. the house of y chai was now a roaring bonfire, and the flames swept up the outside of the walls, vomiting through the windows in steady columns. the two deputy sheriffs ran to the chief clerk of y chai. he spoke to them, shaking his head, and when they turned away he flung the edge of his mantle over his face and turned away into the crowd. then the deputies went among the crowd and ordered that the useless fight be given over. the majority obeyed willingly enough, but a few, either too strongly tempted by the offers of reward, or else carried away by the hysteria of excitement, had to be torn from their places and carried forcibly back beyond reach of the flames. then a horror caught the minds of men away from the actual fire for a moment. a horseman who had recently ridden into 'all- story weekly. the crowd was observed to be fighting with his horse. the brute was pitching madly in an effort to shake the rider off and get closer to the flames. at first the men of the crowd laughed and cheered on the horse, for it seemed like a game. but then the rider was heard screaming for help. half a dozen leaped forward to catch the reins of the frantic animal, but at the same in- stant it worked the bit into its teeth, straightened its head with a jerk that tore the reins from thehands of the master, and galloped straight for the inferno of fire. the rider tossed up his arms with a yell of despair. the yellow flare of fire framed him, his hat off, his hair blown back, and his cry was drowned by the roar of the men of the crowd and the shriek of the women. at the very edge of the wall of flame the rider flung himself from the saddle and struck the ground; the horse sprang on‘ -' into the flames. striking the wall, everywhere undermined by the fury of the flames, a whole section of it gave way and crashed down before the wild horse. its neigh of agony rang back; it echoed shrill over the sudden silence of the crowd, and then the poor! beast was seen, through the gap which it had broken down in the wall, galloping still further into the heart of the wilderness of flames. yellow hands of fire reached from every side against the animal, and it swerved here and there like a dodging polo pony through the mass of red and yellow flames. straight on it held toward one of those three piles of steadier fire from which the conflagration had started, and into this with a great leap the horse flung itself. apparently it struck with its whole weight the central pillar of the hall, already mostly eaten through by the fire, and now the pillar of wood buckled before this blow, and the roof directly above came lunging down with a gigantic flurry and outward puff of flames. there was a yell, human in its piercing pain, superhuman in its terrible volume; and then only the roar of the fire, and clung saw men who had witnessed, perhaps, a score of gunfights, now cover their eyes with their hands. he turned his gray horse, which was trembling with excitement, and wove his way through the dense crowd and out onto an open lane. he rode with his face toward the purity of the stars. he stretched up his empty hands. “ out of fire," said clung, “and into a new life!” . he urged the gray to a gallop and went swiftly up the ravine. chapter xliv. _ rm: night hawk’s horse. wo things drew \kirk back to the cave of the night hawk when he left the house of y chai that night. the first was a desire for a final sight of the silver virgin; but this was not so strong an impulse m the wish to look once more on the strength and wild beauty of the black stallion. his reason convinced him that he must never go near the place again, but the emotion was greater than the reason. he had no wish to take the silver virgin away with him. the image wa in itself a great treasure, no doubt, but it seemed to kirk that it was the baleful influence of those diamond eyes which had induced him to step out of the lawful path just as it had once tempted spenser years before. that whole grim altar and all the jewels of the cave should stay where they were. but he could not bear the thought of leaving the black stallion to die of starva- tion in the cave. already the fine animal- had gone twenty-four hours without water. it would be a short and simple act of charity to send a bullet through the brain of the horse. so he urged his horse to a steady canter and arrived quickly at the mouth of the tunnel. while he was still in the passage, and while the sound of his footsteps in the sand surely could not have reached into the main part of the cave, he heard the snort and then the shrill whinny of the stallion; and the sudden sound stopped his heart with a strange misgiving. it seemed to kirk that' there was a note of anger as 'well as triumph in the neigh. for be it remembered that he was at the end of his third step back into the primitive, and his clung. mind was open to more elemental influences. and moved in almost childlike veins of superstition. so it was that when he had lighted the torch in the cave he held it high above his head and approached the stallion with rather cautious steps. the large brute lifted its fine head and turned toward him with distended nostrils. in his very ear it trumpeted a greeting, a challenge, perhaps. for there was little of welcome in its aspect. the small ears were flat back on the neck, and the big eyes gave back the light of the torch with a greenish-yellow gleam. per- haps it was the lack of water which had maddened the horse. but when kirk came closer the stallion bared its teeth and lunged at him like a biting dog. he shouted and jumped back. the dlsplay of temper did not irritate him; rather, it roused in him a fierce desire to master the brute and a feeling of joy in the combat. he drew his revolver and poised it for the shot, aiming squarely between the eyes of the horse. yet his hand lowered. for a picture came to him of how he had ridden on the black down the cafion on that night when he had met and slain charlie morgan, and how the stallion had galloped like a swift and noiseless shadow. also, the anger of the dumb brute was like the anger of a man who knows that he is. about to be shot down for no crime. it became more diffi- cult for kirk to. press the trigger than it would have been for him to murder a defenseless human being. he cursed, and raised the revolver again, but once more his hand faltered and fell. he thought now of riding the stallion down one of the riding-paths in the park, and how all eyes would go over to him. there was not a mount in the riding academy to compare with this one. to be sure, there was some danger of appearing near kirby creek with a black stallion, for the night hawk was known to have ridden a mount such as this. but he could prove with a thousand alibis that he was not the night hawk. he had been still in the far north in the very height of the outlaw‘s career. he made a sudden resolution to take the black away' with him. the silver virgin and all the jewels of plunder could remain here in the eternal night of the cave, but he would carry away the gun, the horse, and the poniard of spenser. having made up his mind to the thing, he set about leading the horse to water. it was no easy task, for the horse still acted as if in a frenzy. he had to take a half- hitch with a rope around the nose of the brute, and when the horse reared and struck at him with its forefeet, he bore down heavily on the rope, shutting off the stal— lion’s wind and nearly choking it. he kept up the pressure until the stallion stag- gered with glazing eyes. then he released the grip of the rope a little and led the horse to the pool of water. . _ . yet all the way he had to keep half turned toward the animal, for the minute his back wa turned he felt that the ears of the stallion would lower and the fire come back in its eyes. at the pool the black plunged its nose whole inches into the water and drank, but before it had finished the draft kirk pulled up its head again. there was another furious display of tem- per, but kirk knew too much about horses to let the half-famished brute take its fill of water. he pulled the stallion back into the cave, tied its head short to the stall, and taking off his saddle from his horse at the mouth of the tunnel he carried it back and placed it on the black. then he placed the torch in a crevice of the rock near the silver virgin and looked his last upon the image, and as he led the horse into the mouth of the passage it seemed to kirk that the black diamond eyes of the virgin turned and followed his leaving. it was no easy task to lead the big horse down the tunnel. and again and again the stallion lunged forward against the rope in its desire to reach the man. he choked the black down, and kept him at a safe distance until they reached the mouth. there, as before, the stallion crouched like a dog and wriggled its way out to the open. kirk put his other horse on a rope and started back up the ravine. it was a difficult progress. when his own horse approached too close, the black lashed out with vicious heels, and even clung. the peaks on the other side, and all of kirby creek was bathed in yellow light. “shall we ride down?” suggested kirk. “what about it, winifred?" “the fire’s already dying down," she said, “ and it will be almost out by the time we arrive. besides, it’s not spreading.” “what’s the matter, winifred?” asked kirk maliciously. “ you’re not keen for anything these days.” “ for nothing except to leave this drop- ping-off point of the world,” she answered wearily. and as she was turning back into the house her father said in a low voice: “ gad, i think it’s the place of cl--of yo chai!” winifred stopped short at the door. “the place of y chai?" she echoed sharply. “ look!” answered john sampson. their place on the side of the ravine was at a considerable elevation above the town of kirby creek, and as the fire lighted the roofs of the town they were able to .see the entire sweep of the place. now, as they grew accustomed to the flare, they could see with perfect distinctness that it was from the broad roof of the gambling- house that the fire was belching. “poor devil! " muttered sampson. “poor yo chai!” . “what difference does it make?" said the girl coldly. “ perhaps he’s in the flames —he probably is, to save his gold. but what difference does it make—one dog of a chinaman more or less in the world?” “but burned to death!" said sampson. “ gad! how horrible.” “ bah!” snorted kirk. “let him go. after all, a gambler takes his chances, even with fire. let him go." “burned to death!” repeated the girl, and she tumed with a muffled cry and ran into the house. “ what's up with her?" asked kirk suspiciously. “ some day i’ll tell you, lad,” said samp- son, deeply moved. “but now let’s go in to her.” they found her huddled on 'her bed, weeping hysterically. and when her father tried to comfort her she fought him away. “keep your head high, winifred," be pleaded. “there’s not one chance in twenty that he’s caught in the fire.” “you don’t know,” she said, and sud~ denly she was clinging to her father, still weeping. “ you don’t know, but i do. i can almost see him start that fire with his own hand. oh, dad! oh, dad!" “ hush!” he said, patting her back with clumsy tenderness. “ hush, my dear, for it will all turn out all right in the end.” ‘-‘ how can it for him?” she said, almost fiercely. “i tell you it’s the end of—of yo chai.” “ one dog of a chinaman more or less—~- i quote your own words, my dear.” ' “ i saw the shadow of it in his eyes,” she said. “i saw the coming of it when i left him. dad, yellow or white, there’s not his like left in the world. and i’m alone. oh, god! how utterly alone, dad.” “hush!” he said again with a shaking voice, “or kirk will hear." ‘-‘ yes, kirk! " she sat upright, the tears gone. “ if it had not been for kirk " “ well?” “ i hate the ground he walks on." “ do you still hold that old slip against ' him?” “ dad,” she said suddenly, “ what a fool, what a weak and cruel and selfish fool a woman can be.” she broke away from sampson and stood erect. “we leave in the morning.” she said, “and we have to get our things together.” > he said, alarmed: “ but wait till you’ve quieted down, winifred. you’re half-hys- terical now.” and she laughed in such a way as he had never heard before. “do you think that anything matters now? i was never calmer in my life.” she proved it, it seemed, by the absolute quiet in which she set about packing their few belongings which they had taken into the mining camp, and kirk and sampson sat in utter silence watching her with a sort of awe. through the window they saw the fire had passed its height, and now the flames fell, and there was only a red glow over the town and a faint red spot in the sky of the night above kirby creek, like a grim sign. all - story weekly. silence in the shanty, heard the clatter of a galloping horse stop before the house, heard steps mount the front steps. saw the door swing open, and in the lighted rectangle stood a slender man with a very_ white face, doubly white because of the red smear across the forehead. his eyes were steadv ily upon the girl. _ and she mse, her lips parted and her eyes staring with a wide and bright fasci- nation. “winifred!” called john sampson. the steady eyes of clung turned upon him for a single instant and he could not speak again; the words were frozen in his throat. and the girl crossed the floor, and passed through the door, and the door closed behind her. instantly the gallop of a horse began, and rattled away over the rocks. then life returned to john sampson. he rushed to the door, threw it wide, and running out into the moonlight he cried at the top of his voice: “ winifred! “ there was nothing in sight but the shad— ows of the rocky walls; and all he heard was the far, departing rattle of boots upon rocks. “winifred!” he called again. and the side of the ravine gave back the word like a mocking whisper close to his ear. (the end.) layton began replacing his curios c in their cabinet, then paused: with unsteady fingers he picked up a small object. “here’s something that ought to inter- est you, tom,” he jested, yet with an un- der current of seriousness. " i bought it in bagdad~for an unmerciful price. the old robber who sold it swore that it had been engraved by solomon himself, and had all sorts of magical powers." macdonald examined the little stone curi- ously. it was'a fiat, oblong bit of onyx: graven on one side was the parallelogram with crossed diagonals anciently called the “seal of solomon.” in each of the four tiny triangles thus made was carved one character of some unknown tongue. he ernest: m. poate touched them half reverently, some old strain of celtic mysticism stirring in his canny scotch blood. “ they are supposed to be chaldean," ex- plained his host. “ that‘s the ‘word of power’ you read about in the ‘arabian nights.’ if you hold the talisman up and pronounce that word, it will break all evil spells—so old ali baba said. we called him that because he was more than equal to forty ordinary thieves. let’s sit down." macdonald handed back the stone, and followed clayton into the other room. “i get tired pretty easy," apologized the older man, pouring himself a drink. the de- canter clinked against the glass edge so that a. few drops of brandy spattered on the table. he was still shaken by some ob- e v. . library of dei videt suh ilumine priuceton university. everybody's magazine volume xvii july to december, ----- - -- new york the ridgway company, publishers opany, published tur v. (july - dec ) copyright, , by the ridgway company index page . · · · · · · · · · · · · · . · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · . · · · · · abbott, eleanor hallowell. the happy day . . . . . . adventurer, the. by lloyd osbourne. chapters xiii-xvi . . • . . . . . . . chapters xvi-xix. . . . chapters xix-xxv . . chapters xxv-xxix . . . . . . . . . . after summer rain (poem). by v. f. boyson : alchemists, the. by katharine holland brown . . alexander. by ben blow . . . . . . . amateur skipper, the. by bert leston taylor . . andrews, mary raymond shipman. the forgiveness of sins aristocracy of the circus, the. by hartley davis. . as to the blind. by will irwin . . . . . at daybreak (poem). by charles buxton going . . . . . . . august (poem). by edward wilbur mason .. autobiography of the husband of a celebrity, the . cerpen:. . . . . . autumn (poem). by arthur stringer . . . . . . . . . . away from town (poem). by harry h. kemp . . . baiting of rosenthal, the. by henry c. rowland balance, the (poem). by witter bynner . . . barriers (poem). by theodosia garrison . . . . bechdolt, fred r. on the spur of the moment. bingham, edfrid. sangre de cristo , . blow, ben. alexander . . . . . . . bolce, harold. the mystery of bird-flight. . boyson, v. f. after summer rain (poem). . brain and body. by william hanna thomson, m.d., ll.d. brainerd, eleanor hoyt. a damsel in distress . . . . . . brandenburg, broughton. orealis mcgoogin and the fighting wallaby . browne, porter emerson. doyle's début brown, katharine holland. the new strong wine of spring . . . . . . . . . . the alchemists . . . . . business side of vaudeville, the. by hartley davis bynner, witter. the telegraph-poles (poem) . . . . . . . . . . . the balance (poem) . · · · · . · · · · · . · · . . · · · · . · . · · . · . . . . · · · · · . · · . · . . . · . · . . · . · . . . . . . . . . caballero's way, the. by . henry . canfield, dorothy. a pyrrhic victory . . casson, herbert n. the romance of the reaper. i. cat, the (poem). by arthur colton j onational exhibition at celebrating a new ireland: the int dublin. by maude l. radford . . . . . . . . . dec : : index · . $ · . · . os . · · . . · · . · . · . · . · . · . · . . · · . .. .. · . · . · . .. · .. ·· · page channing, grace ellery. “in an even balance." . . . . . cheat of overcapitalization, the. ii. by will payne . . . . . children of the long-ago. by vance thompson. child, richard washburn. the money . . christmas and the spirit of democracy. by samuel mcchord crothers. clark, edward b. real naturalists on nature faking . . cleghorn, sarah n. my sister's jane (poem) . . . colton, arthur. the cat (poem) . . . . . . corey, alice. the roads (poem) . . courlander, alphonse. twenty francs . . . . . crothers, samuel mchord. christmas and the spirit of democracy . crusade against war, the. by vance thompson . . . . . . cutting, mary stewart. the measure . . . . . . . damsel in distress, a. by eleanor hoyt brainerd . daughter of the russian revolution, a. by leroy scott. davis, hartley. the aristocracy of the circus . . . . . . . . . . . the department store at close range. the business side of vaudeville . . department store at close range, the. by hartley davis doyle's debut. by porter emerson browne . . . durant, h. r. how moriarty escaped . . . . eaton, walter prichard. a refuge in the bronx. error of circumstance, the. by joseph kocheli . . . . . . “fans" and their frenzies. by allen sangree . . . . . . . fenollosa, mary. white iris . . . . . . . . . . . . fifth wheel, the. by o. henry . . . . . . . . . . fillmore, parker h. the hickory limb . . fish, stuyvesant. what caused the panic? a symposium. distrust of wall street methods : : . . . . . . . . . forgiveness of sins, the. by mary raymond shipman andrews, . . . gage, lyman j. what caused the panic? a symposium. weuk currency system . a garrison, theodosia. barriers (poem) . . . . . . . . . going, charles buxton. at daybreak (poem) . . . . . . . . . . . . . heart's seasons (poem) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . good hunting (poem). by burges johnson . . . . . . . . . good shot, a. by charlotte wilson . . “gran'ma's.” by charlotte wilson . . guest of quesnay, the. by booth tarkington. chapters i-iv . chapters v-vii . . . . . . . . . . . . happy day, the. by eleanor hallowell abbott hard, william. making steel and killing men . . harris, elmer b. the seamy side of the curtain . . heart's seasons (poem). by charles buxton going . . . . henry, o. the caballero's way . . . . . . the fifth wheel . . . . . . . . . phæbe . . . . . . . . . . . . “next to reading matter” . . . heroism of mr. peglow, the. by e. j. rath hibbard, george the lawn mower . . . . . . . . . . hickory limb, tie. by parker h. fillmore . . . . . . . . . · · · · · ..... · · · · · ..... · . · · · . . · . . · · .. · · .. . '. · . · . . · · .... · · · · .... · . . · . · . · · · · . · · · · · · · · . · · . ....... · · ....... · . · · · · · · · · · index . · page hill, j. j. what caused the panic? a symposium. there is plenty of money d hoffman, arthur sullivant. patsy moran and the orange paint . . holt, byron w. what caused the panic? a symposium. the declining value of money d honk-honk breed, the. by stewart edward white . . . . . . . hoover, bessie r. opal's half-holiday . . . . . . . . . . . . no merry-go-roundin' . . . . . . . . . . . . . how moriarty escaped. by h. r. durant , huneker, james. is there an american type of feminine beauty ? huntington, helen. to fire (poem) . . . . . husband of a celebrity, the. an autobiography . . . . . . “in an even balance.” by grace ellery channing . . in blackwater pot. by charles g. d. roberts, . in cloak of gray (poem). by alfred noyes . . ireland, archbishop. what is a good man? a symposium. a lover of god irwin, will. as to the blind . . . . . is there an american type of feminine beauty? by james huneker . ...... · · · .. · · · · . . johnson, burges a llyric of the llama (poem) . . . . . . . . . . . good hunting (poem) . . . . . . . . . . . . judgment of eve, the. by may sinclair . . . . . . . . . katsura, general count tara. what is a good man? a symposium. the japanese ideal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . kemp, harry h. away from town (poem) kennett, julia. the old house beyond the hills . . keystone "crime: pennsylvania's graft-cankered capitol. the. by owen wister . · · · · · · · · · · · kings of hate, the. by arthur stringer . . . . . . . . . kocheli, joseph. “the error of circumstance . . . . . . . . “ladies' game, the." by gertrude lynch . . . . . . . . . lawn-mower, the. by george hibbard . . . . . . . . . lawson, thomas w. what caused the panic ? a symposium. fictitious wealth .. · · · f what is a good man? a symposium. an epigrammatic composite. . little stories of real life . . . . . . . . , , , llyric of the llama, a (poem). by burges johnson . lullaby (poem). by s. weir mitchell. .. lynch, gertrude. “the ladies' game" : . mackay, jessie. song of the driftweed (poem) . · . · · · · · · · making steel and killing men. by william hard mason, edward wilbur. august (poem) . measure, the. by mary stewart cutting . . . mitchell, s. weir. lullaby (poem) . miracle workers: modern science in the industrial world, the. by henry smith williams, ll.d. . . . . . . . . . money, the. by richard washburn child . . . . . . . . . . morris, gouverneur. the parrot morton, johnson. the saving sense . . . . . . . . . . my sister's jane (poem). sarah n. cleghorn . . mystery of bird-flight, the. by harold bolce. · · · · · · · · · · · . · ..: .... ...... . · · . · . nation of villagers, a. by g. bernard shaw . . “nature fakers." by theodore roosevelt . . . newest land of promise, the. by g. w. ogden . . . . . . . . . . : . . index · ... · · . . ... · · · d. page new strong wine of spring, the. by katharine holland brown . . . “next to reading matter." by o. henry . . . . . . . . no merry-go-roundin'. by bessie r. hoover . . . . . . . . noyes, alfred. in cloak of gray (poem) . . . . . old house beyond the hills, the. by julia kennett ogden, g. w. the newest land of promise . . . . one view (poem). by theodora wilson wilson . . . . . . . . . on the spur of the moment. by fred r. bechdolt. . opal's half-holiday. by bessie r. hoover orealis mcgoogin and the fighting wallaby. by broughton brandenburg osbourne, lloyd. the adventurer. chapters aitav chapters xiii-xvi . . . . . . . . . . . . . chapters xvi-xix . . . . . . . . . . . . . . chapters xix-xxv. . . chapters xxv-xxix . . . . . . . . . . . . parrot, the. by gouverneur morris . . . . patsy moran and the orange paint. by arthur sullivant lloffman . . payne, will. the cheat of overcapitalization. ii . . pendexter, hugh. the probationer and the pennant. phebe. by o. henry . . . plain labels on germ enemies. by william hanna thompson, m.d., ll. players, the . . . , probationer and the pennant, the. by hugh pendexter . . . . pyrrhic victory, a. by dorothy canfield . . . . . . . . . radford, maude l. celebrating a new ireland: the international exhibition at dublin . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . rath, e. j. the heroism of mr. peglow . . . . . . . . . . real naturalists on nature faking. by edward b. clark. refuge in the bronx, a. by walter prichard eaton . . . . . . return of santa claus, the. by edwin l. sabin richardson, james e. within this heart of mine (poem) . . . . the swamp dogwood (poem) . . . . . . . . . . . . roads, the (poem). by alice corey , . roberts, charles g. d. in blackwater pot . . . . . . . romance of the reaper, the. i. by herbert n. casson . . . . . roosevelt, theodore. “nature fakers " . . ross, prof. edward alsworth. what is a good man ? a symposium. a knight of conscience . . . . . . . . . . . . . rowland, henry c. the baiting of rosenthal . . . . . . . . row of books, a. by johan barrett . . . . . . . , , , russell, charles edward the suez canal . · · · · · · · · · · · where did you get it, gentlemen ? chapters i-ii . . . . . . . . . . . . chapters iii-iv . . . . . . . . . . . . . chapters. v-vii . . . . . . . . . . chapters viii-ix . chapters x-xii . . . . g . . · . · . . . · · · . . · · . . . · . . . . . . . · . · . . · · . . · · . . . . . . · . . · . · . sabin, edwin l. the return of santa claus sangre de cristo. by edfrid bingham. . sangree, allen. “fans” and their frenzies . saving sense, the. by johnson morton . scheffauer, herman. the sunken admiral . · . · . . . . . . . . . . · . . . . . . · index · . . · . . · · . . . . . · · . . . . · · . . . . · . · . . . · · . . . .. · · . . · · · + · ..... . ..... ..... .... · · . · · . · page scott, leroy. a daughter of the russian revolution . . . . . . the travesty of christ in russia . . seamy side of the curtain, the. by elmer b. ii m . by limer b. tarris . . . . shaw, g. bernard. a nation of villagers . . . sinclair, may. the judgment of eve . . . . . smedley, constance. a study in emotions . . . . some americans abroad. by booth tarkington . song of the driftweed (poem). by jessie mackay . - straight talk. by “everybody's" readers . . . . stringer, arthur autumn (poem). . . . . . . . . the turn of the year (poem) . . the kings of hate . . . . . . . . . . . . . study in emotions, a. by constance smedley. suez canal, the. by charles edward russell . . sumner, w. g. what caused the panic? a symposium. indiscreet denunciation and laws b sunken admiral, the. by herman scheffauer. . . . . . . swamp dogwood, thie (poem). by james e. richardson . . . . . . tarkington, booth. some americans abroad . . . . . . . . . . . . . the guest of quesnay. chapters i-iv . . . . . . . . . . . . chapters v-vii . . . . . . . . . . . . taylor, bert leston. the amateur skipper . . telegraph-poles, the (poem). by witter bynner . thomas, edith m. the white bell-mare (poem). thompson, vance the crusade against war . . . . . . . . . . . children of the long-ago . thomson, william hanna, m.d., ll.d. brain and body . . . . . . . . . . . . . plain labels on germ enemies .. three hundred years ago. by eugene wood . . . . . . . to fire (poem). by helen huntington . . . . . tompkins, juliet wilbor. young lady . travesty of christ in russia, the. by leroy scott . turn of the year, tiie (poem). by arthur stringer . . . . twenty francs. by alphonse courlander . . . . . . . • under the spreading chestnut tree . . . . . , , , wells, h. g. what is a good man? a symposium. the socialist ideal . . . what caused the panic? a symposium. weak currency system. by lyman j. gage . . . . . . . . . a indiscreet denunciation and laws. by w. g. sumner. : : : : : : b distrust of wall street methods. by stuyvesant fish. there is plenty of money. by j. j. hill . . . . . . . . . . d the declining value of money. by byron w. holt . d fictitious wealth. by thomas w. lawson . . . . . . . f what is a good man? a symposium. a lover of god. by archbishop ireland the socialist ideal. by h. g. wells . an epigrammatic composite. by thomas w. lawson . . . . . . the japanese ideal. by general count tara katsura a knight of conscience. by professor edward alsworth ross . . what is the house of lords? by arnold white . . . . . . . · · .. .. .. .. · . · · · · ... . · .... · · . · ........ ........ · . · · . · . · · . · · · · . · · · · · · . · · · · . · · . · · · · · . · · · · · · . · · · · · · viii index · · · · · · · · · · · . . · · . · · · . · . . · · · page where did you get it, gentlemen? by charles edward russell. chapters i-ii . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . chapters -iv · · · · · · · · · · · · · · chapters v-vii . . . . . . . . . . . . . chapters viii-ix . , chapters x-xii . . . . . . . . . . . . . . g white, arnold. what is the house of lords ? . white bell-mare, the (poem). by edith m. thomas . . . . white iris. by mary fenollosa . . . . . . . . white, stewart edward. the honk-honk breed.. . . . williams, henry smith. the miracle workers : modern science in the industrial world . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. wilson, charlotte “gran'ma's” . . . . . . . . . . . . . a good shot . . . . . . . . . . . . . . wilson, theodora wilson. one view (poem). . • • . . . . wister, owen. the keystone crime : pennsylvania's graft-cankered capitol . . with “everybody's” publishers . . . . . , , , , , within this heart of mine (poem). by james e. richardson . . . .. women of the bible. pictures in color . . . . . . . . wood, eugene. three hundred years ago . . . . . . . . . young lady. by juliet wilbor tompkins . . . . .•. . · july dads homes saloon w. herber dunjon he shot up a saloon, killed the town marshal and then rode away -" the cavallero's way," page . everybody's magazine vol. xvii. july, no. . the forgiveness of sins by mary raymond shipman andrews author of "bob and the guides," "the perfect tribute," etc. illustrations by hermann c. wall the black-browed doctor, introspective of twenty is the exception. i've run over a bit i gaze, keen of glance, stared thought into the business of souls, which is your affair.” fully at the end of his cigar as he knocked the a swift glance shot from the dreamy eyes ash from the rail into the st. lawrence river. and rested a moment on the younger man's the panorama of great hills swept slowly clean-shaven face—in spite of the tweed suit backward to the sound of the ship's steaming. that clothed the large limbs inconspicuously “that would be all very well,” he said, "if one knew that he was a clergyman. the you were sure of the equality of human re- doctor went on: sponsibility. but to my mind that's one of “i consider that a straight and sound soul the things of whose negation we may be sure. without twist or disease is as rare as that sort your argument claims that all human beings of body. and i hold”—he stopped and must be answerable alike. you might as puffed slowly—“i hold that the moral sick- well set the first dozen of men picked from a ness is often as blameless, as much to be city street to a scratch high-jumping contest. pitied, as little to be condemned, as the phys- the chance is that you would strike a cripple ical.” he hesitated a second and spoke on crutches and a boy of ten and a chap with deliberately. “i believe in two or three things heart-disease-perhaps three out of twelve that some men of science do not: a personal would be approximately on a level. it's my god-forgiveness of sins—a life to come. business to do with men's bodies, and i find i am glad to think, and i think of it rather that a perfectly straight and healthy one after often, that if a limited vision such as mine sees copyright, , by the ridgway company. all rights reserved. everybody's magazine more sadness than horror in the criminal the fair way with mixed entries?” the long records, it is quite likely that an infinite in- silver of the cigar ash, knocked against the telligence—the good lord-knowing causes rail, fell into the sliding river. "i hope” — and excuses that we miss, may find mighty he added swiftly, and the odd, impersonal few cases beyond pardon. i believe in a for- eyes gathered a sudden suffusion of light- giveness of sins and a “i hope indeed we may life everlasting broader all win the prize, every than we dream. i be- pitiful soul of us, poor lieve that more than the beggars. you hope so, saints get to heaven." too,” he challenged the the big young clergy- clergyman, and as he man had pulled the hat said it he flung the last from his blond head as word from him, as if to if to leave his brain free get to a thought farther to catch the doctor's along. "there's a cir- thought. the curve of cumstance i remember his powerful elbow sup- at this moment which ported him on the rail illustrates. a man, a as he tilted forward; his patient of mine, ap- brows were dissenting; peared to change his he took up the thread entire moral nature in quickly as the other's the course of a few voice dropped. the years. he married a calvinistic tradition woman who was high- and training that ruled bred and gentle – no his kindly personality, one ever doubted her like a backbone of iron loveliness of character. in a human-frame, and he seemed at first might not bend at once to be a good fellow and to the older man's broad devoted to her. with- doctrine. the white out apparent reason of heat of a close knowl- any sort the man de- edge of suffering is veloped into a fiend of needed, perhaps, to refined cruelty. it is melt such iron to flesh no use telling you what and bone. he did, but no devil “you're taking away from hell could have all moral responsi- been more ingenious bility,” he answered, and more merciless, and and the sweeping dis- it was his wife around approval in his look and whom centered his dia- tone carried the weight bolical brilliancy. of his friendly, large there was such shad- being. “you're elimi- ing, such subtlety—so nating right and wrong skilfully did he play up and faith and repent- and down the scale of ance. you're reducing the woman's conscience life to a race run by a strong swimmer, sure of his strength. and heart and breeding puppets, pulled by un- to make her suffer the seen strings, who, however they run, must all keenest anguish, that you couldn't help ad- receive the prize." miring the working of his brain, while your "i think”—the doctor spoke slowly—“i'm instincts made it difficult to keep your hands only appreciating the fact that we are not off him. this was no secret; he humiliated puppets who might all be carved alike; i'm her publicly and privately, though always, i only enunciating the theory that the starter believe, with a poised discretion—there never makes the handicaps balance for the race. was a scene there never was even an awk- you're an athlete, to look at you: isn't that ward moment. he slipped from a knife- the forgiveness of sins thrust that turned her white to a good story so pect, and before he reached the end of the easily told that you followed him fascinated. long quay, the spell of the indefinite gaze, he seemed inspired of an evil spirit. of with its lightning flashes of keenness, had course i, being the family physician, got dissolved in the joy of a new sight of old closer to this than others, and gradually i friends. it was six years since he had seen came to have a theory concerning his physical malbaie, and he had loved the place for years condition, although he went about his busi- before that. it was easy to forget a passing ness and seemed in fair health. i'm making stranger in the sight of it. yet once again a long story—you're bored?” the doctor de david gillespie was to see as if in reality, for manded suddenly, his unexpected luminous a sharp intense moment, that inscrutable, glance flashing on his listener. notable face, black-browed, dreamy-eyed. the young man's shake of the head, the annoyed blink of his interrupted, intent gaze of a january evening a person who goes answered. the strident voice went on to malbaie for his summer playtime will fall “the end was this: the man was accidentally to staring at the fire with a misty tenderness, killed. his body was sent home and i asked reminiscent, smiling. then those who know permission for an autopsy. his father and him enough to guess, have a suspicion that brother allowed it, and i discovered a con- his waking dream is of crisp august days; dition of brain that turned my disgust of of reaches of blue and silver river; of steep him into pity. he was as irresponsible as mountains and quaint habitant cottages and any patient in bloomingdale. it happened the jingling of a calèche jolting up and down merely that his mania was an extreme hilly roads; in a word, such a midwinter variety of a vice too common to lock up. dream is likely to be of a midsummer mal- against my judgment this finding of mine baie picnic. was not told-even his wife never knew it. on a blue and silver day, in such a picnic she had been through much, and the father david gillespie was engulfed the morning and brother believed this new thought would after his arrival. with his sister he set off merely bring new agitation—she might blame at ten o'clock for a jog of ten miles to the herself for not having found out in time. i fraser river. strapped to the wagons were think they were wrong, for it would have tea-baskets and provisions against drought given her husband's memory to her, but it and famine; the carters sat on the mitigated was not my affair. there's malbaie,” the dashboards that are the box-seats; little doctor announced quietly, dropping the canadian horses tugged at old harnesses entire conversation behind him as he dropped mended with rope; the sun shone; the water his burned cigar into the river. “you're glistened; all was right with the world. getting off here?” in its hurry to get to the st. lawrence the the younger man's gaze was still on the little river called the fraser scooped in past impenetrable face, and he held it there for ages a tunnel through the mountain. over a moment as if he could not at once follow the gorge of it black cedars hang; down the the sharp tangent. then he sprang to his sides of it tumble square-jawed rocks; through feet. the bottom of it brawls the yellow clear stream, “good-by," he said and caught the other's and splashes impetuously against boulders, hand in a big grasp. “this ‘passing in the and whirls into foam-dotted pools in deep night' has been a great pleasure to me. hollows. it is the fiercest, most uncontrolled you've not convinced me, you know i still of little rivers, so full of shadows and so set believe there's a difference between good in sunny woods and sudden chasms, that pic- people and bad people. but you've inter- nics go all of ten miles to watch its spirited ested me so much that i forgot about malbaie. performances. i shall have to hurry now. good-by.” david gillespie, having eaten broiled ten minutes later, as the doctor lifted his chicken and stuffed eggs with a sincere hap- hat with his slow-coming, swift-vanishing piness, wandered into the path that followed smile, the broad-shouldered, fair giant saluted the bold assertion of the stream. for a time with a wide wave of his own hat from the the way led along a shadowy level, to debouch dock, and swung away wondering why he on a mass of rocks, bold and final. yet a had not asked the name of this man who had thread of path lay down the descent, and down so impressed him. that the unasked name scrambled gillespie, his big weight dropping was known to two continents he did not sus- light from foothold to foothold. half-way of "it was you who saved me," he whispered. the forgiveness of sins the fall a makeshift bridge sprang across six in the rough shelf on the wall, the writing feet of emptiness, and over this went the ad- table with its large ink-well, its orderly litter venturer-on and on. the spirit of the moun- of recent use—he turned his eyes in surprise tain seemed calling him—and moreover he to the man who bent over him. at once he had a plan. the day was warm, and the saw that he had happened upon something scramble had heated him—when he had left extraordinary, for the face, whose lines worked the picnic well behind, when he should find a this way and that with painful nervousness, pool large enough, he would get rid of his whose blood rushed at gillespie's look and clothes and plunge, and let the running water ebbed as swiftly, was that of a gentleman, of wrap him with sweet sharpness. a student—and again a dim likeness, a fa- around a turn he came upon the place. in miliarity stirred gillespie with a vanishing a white curtain the river fell forty feet; like memory. a curtain, too, its noise, steady, unhurried, “it was you who saved me,” he whispered. shut out the world. closed on three sides “i was so glad of the chance," the stranger with sunlit rock walls, the pool lay in brown stammered, and his speech was the speech shadow in the hollow, swift, and a hundred of breeding, but gillespie had trouble not to feet across. gillespie saw that the current stare again when he saw the muscles of the might well be dangerous, but, a strong swim- mouth twist spasmodically with the effort of mer, sure of his strength, did not think of the few words. the man's features were of hesitation. in five minutes he was playing like uncommon chiseling and in themselves hand- a great fish, diving, floating, treading water. some, intellectual, but this exaggerated nery- suddenly something happened. there was ousness made him dreadful to see. a sharp pain—he tried to kick out, and the leg in less than half an hour the young clergy- would not go. in alarm he put the force of man, a trifle shaken, but clothed again and fit his body into the other leg, but the cramp for exertion, stood outside the cabin, and, had got it-it was more than he could do to looking about, took in the situation. the take a stroke. beating the water with his house was of two rooms only and was built hands he shouted—and knew that his voice of logs with the bark left on; it stood so hid- was as nothing against the fall; that it might den in the wood that it could not be seen not by any chance reach his friends up the from anywhere twenty feet away, nor from river. yet he sent the cry frantically against the water; yet the water almost lapped its the pitiless sound of the stream--he could wide gallery, and standing there one saw all not, would not die in this useless way, he of the shadowy pool. . with his soul and body filled with life and “you have a lovely place for your camp, energy for half a century's work. david gillespie said in his great, musical, with the torture of the cramp locking every friendly voice; and turned for his host's muscle, he shouted again, and knew that he answer, and stood astonished. was going under, and then as his head sank- there was no one there. the man had did he dream it, or was there an answer? disappeared as suddenly as he had come, as he came up, half conscious, did his eyes see while gillespie thought him but a few feet the figure of a man bounding down the bank away. “he has probably gone to get wood, where the rocks gave way to woods? dark- or something of the sort,” the young man ness shut over him. considered, and sat down to wait. five min- when, half an hour later, the young man rutes he waited, fifteen, twenty; consulting his groped back to consciousness, he looked up watch he knew that he could not delay longer; into a face that did not belong to any one the picnic would be starting home; his sister of the picnic, that he did not know-yet would be alarmed. he stood up and hailed that seemed to him vaguely familiar. the the hills in tones of thunder. stranger was caring for him efficiently, and he “hello there! hello, hello!” he shouted. lay quiet for moments, exhausted, without there was no answer. once more he sent curiosity. then, as strength flowed back, he out a call, and again—but without response. gazed about in surprise. then he started up-stream with a puzzled he was lying in a rough log room, yet mind. there was a turn of the path about plainly not the room of a french-canadian a little bay which brought him back close to farmhouse, which he might have expected. the camp, but above it and across water. gil- it was barer than any habitant room he had lespie halted here for a moment and looking seen, but the air of it—the handful of books down tried to see the cabin. it was hidden in “let the light come! o lord, let the light come!” the forgiveness of sins trees, but he could place the spot, and sud- know about him, but no one has ever got denly, as he looked, there arose to him close enough to talk to him before-at least, thence the sound of a voice. clear, power- only the habitants, and not many of them. ful, sweet as a trumpet-call it carried above mark martel—here he is— " the unflagging roar of the rapids. the sharp face of the french carter smiled “such as sit in darkness and in the shadow from a near background. mark martel liked of death,” came the words, “being fast bound to be considered as knowing everything, and in misery and iron.” and then, slow and he had been listening no farther away than distinct and twice repeated, “let the light respect demanded. he shook his head come! let the light come!” wisely. gillespie was aware of cold creeping over “m'sieur is fortunate to have encountered him as at something unearthly. the voice, the hermit. it is known that there is danger as had the face, caught at a sleeping mem- in that pool-three men have been drowned ory that it could not reach. it seemed to him there in my memory. but yes, m'sieur. it that he had heard this voice before. what is true that i have spoken to the hermit—the sort of an adventure was this that he had mad hermit one calls him. only a few have lighted upon? he hurried along with his done that, for when one goes to his cabin he whole soul given to the question. that the hides himself—il se cache-in the woods. man was american and of the higher classes he will not encounter persons—yet he is not was evident from his speech; of a scholarly savage--farouche-not he. he is most gen- calling seemed likely from the fact that a tle and of a harmlessness. and if any one is room bare of furnishing should have in it ill on the farms, for miles about, he seems books and writing materials. what struck to know it at once-one says that the spirits him more than all else was the quality of the tell him—and he appears, and cares for that man's voice. that it should carry with such sick person like the doctor-better than the ease above the muffing boom of the rapids doctor, many say. but yes, it is a good luna- was significant not only of power but of train tic. as for me, i hurt my back once carrying ing. the young clergyman's own big mu- baskets down for a picnic party. i was alone, sical tone was a gift of heaven, and he had and i lay and groaned, for it hurt, though made the most of it, knowing how fine a tool i was little injured. and the hermit came it might be in his craft of shaping souls; he suddenly and rubbed me so that the pain had spoken in large places and to large au- went like magic-it may well be that it was diences; and he knew that the effortless purity a sort of magic-it was curious how that of a tone that so lifted words across the noise pain went. when the others came, before of water meant a knowledge of the play of i heard them, he had slipped into the woods. sounds that had become second nature; it comment, m'sieur-how long? eh bien, it meant a man used to public speaking. there is something like three years he lives there was more: the personal element of it sent a -yes, quite three or four years.” thrill to his heart fibers; this voice which was in a few days david gillespie came again, strong and carrying like a general's, was alone, to the headland that looked down to reedy like a child's, appealing like a woman's the hermit's cabin, and stood hidden there in -it was of such a quality, of such a com- the trees and halted to plan his approach. bination of qualities, as set gillespie un- the heavy roar of the fall, impersonal, in- awares to reviewing the names of the famous evitable, crowded the air; there seemed no speakers of the day. by a subconscious ar- room for other sound. suddenly_easily, gument it seemed to him that a man might clearly-over the volume of it there came to not own this voice and be unknown. more- david's hearing the tones that had thrilled over the vague familiarity of it haunted him. him before. every word, now as then, dis- as he climbed up and down the rocky hill- tinct, every accent pure and effortless, the sides, below his thought the words echoed: sentences lifted to him. “let the light come! let the light come!” “clouds and darkness are round about with noisy relief his party greeted him, me—clouds and darkness—clouds and dark- but at his story the clamor quieted. ness,” the voice repeated, and then as before: “i can't imagine who such a man can be “let the light come! o lord, let the light -does any one know him?” he demanded, come!” and two or three voices answered: there was no hurry or passion in the cry “of course--it's the mad hermit. we all the tones were calm with a dreadful calm- everybody's magazine ness, as if hope were too far away to stir the pulse of them. gillespie, heated from his walk, felt a chill as he listened. this voice, coming out of the dense woods, dominating the voice of the river, seemed supernatural. he crashed out of the shadow and swung down headlong around the trail and to the camp. the door stood wide; he went in; there was no one there. quietly he sat down and waited in the empty place, which yet was alert with recent occupation. there was the same litter of papers on the table by the win- dow; the uncovered inkstand; the pen lying as if just fallen from a hand; a book turned face downward, open. he did not look at the books, the handful of books on the shelf; one may look at every one's books in common life, but to do it here would be stealing the man's secret. in this bare place where were hardly the small necessities, the books must mean their owner's soul. david turned away his eyes, and respected the helplessness of the absent. so he waited, gazing from the door, from the window, at the pool outside, at the high rock wall encircling it. from everywhere in this camp one saw the pool; the building was so placed that one might not step outside, one might not look through door nor window with out seeing that constant picture of dark water. david waited. an hour went past, and he sat patiently, for he had come with fixed purpose, but at the end of the second hour he began to believe it hopeless, and another thought came to him. he went across to the table and sat down to write a note to his in- visible host, pushing away, with an effort not to see the words on them, the papers scat- tered to right and left. but he could not help being aware of a clear, square writing, finished, individual; and suddenly, against his will he caught the words large at the top of a page-a big page such as he himself used for his sermons: “they grope in the dark without light. xii chapter job, th verse." his hand dropped. the pencil fell from it to the floor. he knew with a certainty not founded on logic that this was a sermon, and that this madman was of his own profession. if it had come to him that here was a brother of his flesh and blood, his heart could not have leaped with a hotter shock of longing to help him. then, as if by right of a brother, he lifted his eyes to the pathetic little library and reading the titles, knew that he was right. the madman, the furtive outcast of mankind, living a shadowy under-life in this wild place, was a scholar who read greek and latin and hebrew, was a servant of the church even as himself. he turned from the rough shelves weighted with so extraordinary, so plain a story, and standing by the window, his hands deep in his pockets, the big fellow, with his heart stirred to its depths, stared out at the omnipresent dark pool. what shipwreck could have come to this bark built to carry good tidings, what shipwreck utter, final, to have so battered and overturned it and torn away its white sails, and left it floating, a helmless derelict, in strange seas? he might not conjecture-he put the question from him. what he could do to right the battered hull, to help it move once more on its course, this was a nearer question he must answer this. as if breathed into his mind, inspired, words came to him that he must say now, at this moment. he strode across the floor and stood outside on the gallery, and facing the silent woods he threw his great voice toward them. “the lord has sent help out of zion," he announced loud and clear. “the lord has sent help out of his sanctuary." there was a moment of hush, as it seemed to gillespie, and then, without sound, on the edge of the wood the man stood. the two gazed at each other for a long moment of time, and david, moving slowly over the rocks and through the underbrush, was close to him, held his hand. when he lay in his bed at the cottage on the malbaie bluff that night, the young clergy- man wondered what had happened next. he never remembered. his every faculty was so absorbed in the delicate task of keeping the strange confidence so hardly won that his memory forgot to write down the record. the next thing that he could think of, going back over the day's events, was a quiet half-hour in the cabin, rational and friendly. the man said little enough, but it was said in a manner of charming gentleness, with an evident, frightened joy to be in speech with gillespie which went to the visitor's heart. there was tragedy here, no doubt, but that it came from misfortune, not from wrong-doing, seemed certain. gillespie kept the talk at an every- day level, doing most of it himself. he spoke of the woods, of the little animals living in them; of the birds of canada that he had studied; he referred to a book of those on the shelf, and offered to bring another of the same sort; but at this suggestion of a second visit the forgiveness of sins the man stirred restlessly and his brilliant pure line of thought that went unhampered dark eyes fixed themselves on his guest's face and swift from premise to conclusion as if with a question, a terror. he could not bear on wings which rose above the clouds that the pressure of human touch, even from obscure most men's logic. what a mind, the large, gentle nature that had made him the clergyman reflected-his profession ever for a moment forget himself. david rose first in his thoughts—what a mind in a pul- quietly and stood holding the thin, twitching pit! what a force lost for good! and against hand. his will the question pressed upward in his “good-by," he said. “i am coming to see consciousness more than once-who could you again. i am coming thursday morn- this madman be? one day david was tell- ing." ing a story about himself in the course of the man's face worked as he looked up which he used his own name. he stopped, into the calmness of david's, but he did not considering that his hearer did not know it draw away his hand nor say a word, and so as his. gillespie left him, heavy-hearted to leave him, "my name is gillespie, david gillespie,” standing in the cabin. he explained. to gillespie his vacation was now inspired the dark, sad eyes looked quietly at him. by an object, and every few days found “yes," he answered. “i think you know him in the lonely home of the strange being mine, for you mentioned it the other day. who had saved him from death. little by i am hector hampton." little, with many retrogressions, with delicate for all the watch that he kept over himself care, he built up a friendship between them, david caught his breath. of course! how a friendship with such reserves that in three had he missed it? hector hampton! the weeks he did not know, did not dream of wonderful young priest, the orator, writer, asking his friend's name. that the man a meteor that had swung in a glowing path was ill and needed him physically as well as across the sky to be suddenly quenched. mentally was a strong tie. david dared once this explained all, even the vague note of to suggest bringing a physician, but the idea familiarity, for david remembered well when was met by an attack of nervous trembling, he had heard hampton preach. he had and at a second attempt the hermit without traveled three hundred miles to hear him; he a word vanished into the forest, not to reap- recalled the crowded church, the intent mul- pear that day. the young man learned that titude, the white-robed, slender figure and he must make shift to heal body as well as inspired young face that dominated the scene. soul. that the one as the other was beyond the voice with its flexibility, its character as his skill he feared more than once, yet he of all human natures, child, man, woman; its had at times the joy of seeing steadiness of close touch on the stuff of a heart; its extraor- speech and of thought for perhaps an hour; dinary, unexpected intonations, as if it rang control of the twitching muscles giving back from a soul lightly tied to the things of earth- strength and poise to the spiritual and gillespie had thought he could not forget beautiful face. the conviction grew on him that voice. hector hampton! five years that this personality, gifted, full of charm before he had suddenly resigned his parish- even in its ruin, must have held a no- given up his work; the papers said he was table place in the world before the blow traveling for his health. david had heard came that shattered the machine and left nothing of him since; persons whom he had only bits, brilliant and finished, yet working asked had known nothing. there was hard- no more together. there was about him, ly any one in the united states who had not with all his shrinking annihilation of self, an been familiar with his name, and yet he had unconscious air of one used to having his sunk into the sea of past things with only a words weigh, and the deepest note of tragedy ripple to mark his going. hector hampton! to the man of thought and study was the “i heard you preach once,” gillespie said, evident fact that unreason had here over- and hesitated, and added, “i have always turned a mind of the clearest reason. the been glad that i heard you, and i have never pleasure of discussion of the abstract ques- forgotten it. you must have done more good tions that formed the larger part of their in a few years than most men in a lifetime." talk was so keen to the hermit that often the painful flush, the twisting muscles gillespie feared its effect on his slight strength; warned him. he rose swiftly, his manner often he stood astonished at the straight, changing to an every-day tone. everybody's magazine “i wish you would remember to take the happened to me-i preached to others, and i medicine,” he went on. “i take pride in my myself am a castaway. it was an awfully new practise, and it is unfair of you not to sudden flood, gillespie. i saw red and my help me. try to remember.” hands went out—that was all. i didn't know two days later he came again, of an after- i'd killed the man for five minutes after." noon, and hampton's face so lit up at the as if under a weight of cold iron david's sight of him that he felt a glow of joy. no heart sank. hector hampton a murderer! one could know this man, broken, more than he drew a gasp of relief as the thought flashed half mad, without loving him, and that he upon him that this was part of the madness seemed better to-day meant happiness to -hallucination. gillespie. the unbalanced mind was in a “hampton,” he said, and tried to speak clearer, more rational state than at any time convincingly, “this isn't true. you've before. hampton spoke calmly of his for- wrought yourself up over some painful mem- mer work, of its scope and aim, and, in easy ory until you've come to accept as fact a sequence, of its abrupt ending. suddenly, thing that is only a nightmare. tell it all to with a quiet sentence, he made david's heart me--it will relieve the pressure—but try to stand still. believe me that it is merely a bad dream." “i want to tell you what happened,” he and he knew as he spoke that his words were said. “no one has ever known, but i should inadequate. like you to know.” the eyes of the hermit flamed. “don't “are you sure you want to tell me to-day?” make me argue that,” he pleaded. and then, his friend asked gently. “won't it upset you “but there's no need. you'll understand in to talk about it? i am coming again and a minute. the thing happened. i killed a again, i will gladly listen at any time.” man. and i know that i could not have but the other smiled his radiant, trans- done it had not the evil in me been stronger parent smile. “no.” he shook his head than the good. that is clear reason-you with decision. “i should like to tell you to see it? that moment was the test-it was day if you don't mind listening to a painful the duel, the death-grapple between the story. i am not going to live long and i want holiness i had selfishly labored for and the you to talk to me. it may help me to cross wickedness that was in me. the right went the water when the time comes.” down. it is not in me to do the right against he paused, and david laid his great hand an instant's temptation—that is proved. on the wasted shoulder. never in the four therefore, as i am weighed and found want- weeks of their friendship had hampton ing, i am lost beyond saving. that i know.” seemed more composed, more as he must have david stumbled over rushing words of been in former days; the pitiful working of protest, and the other stopped him. the muscles of his face had stopped; his dark, “don't argue that-i know. i know that. melancholy eyes were sane; his hands lay if you should argue till doomsday it wouldn't quiet. it startled gillespie the more to hear, affect me. you'll call it insanity, probably, when it came, the vehemence of his low a phase of mental disease. whatever it is, speech. it's so. but it isn't that which has made me “we talk of elemental passions, we civil- a madman. did you think i didn't know i ized people," he began, plunging at random was mad?” he asked, and his face and his into the heart of his narrative, “and we think smile were like the smile and the face of a we speak intelligently, but i tell you there is sorrowful child, and an icy shaft struck to not a man dreams what it means except the david's soul. hampton went on. “i didn't man who has been for a moment a brute even know i'd killed him at first." he beast. a brute beast, with one blind, savage stopped and seemed to pull up his plurging instinct that has got him in its grip. heaven thoughts. “i must talk more coherently or help you if that thing, an elemental passion, you won't understand. to-day is my chance catches you off your guard, for it's only -i can do it to-day-my brain is clear. heaven then that can. not civilization nor mostly, you know, it is that lack which is un- tradition is going to help you. if you're to be bearable—the lack of light-i can't think- saved, it's by the grace of god and the soul my mind seems in thick darkness. but just that you are. it's the final test of how much now there's unusual light. i can see, and i heaven is in you. i didn't stand the test. can tell you, i believe, plainly." what st. paul warned our profession against he lifted a hand and pushed back the hair the forgiveness of sins that had grown long over his forehead, as if suddenly the world reeled. i 'the rapids to give the struggling brain room; then he men mean when they say they see biur. clasped his fingers tightly together-to hold there were scarlet lightnings before my eyes the nerves firm, david thought. -but i saw him-i saw only that man. it "the man was my sister's husband-my was 'as i told you just now. a primeval twin sister. she and i had been close to passion swept me and my will like atoms gether all our lives, and i felt her joy and on a tidal wave, and the sea wall in me of sorrow as keenly, i think almost as quickly, good and heaven was too flimsy a thing to as my own. the man was "-he shuddered resist it. i did what it made me do. i caught uncontrollably-"was a fiend to her, to my him as he swam near me, and pushed him sister. not at first, but by slow degrees, till down and held him under water till his body at last her life was a long agony, and i suf- became limp. then i dragged him ashore, fered with her, helplessly. we were at mal- and then, only then, i knew that i had killed baie together that summer, five years ago, and him. for an hour i could not believe it, finally i couldn't bear it. i made up my and i worked, trying to revive him. but he mind that i must have it out with him, and i was dead-i had killed him. i dressed him asked him to come for a day's fishing here, on in his clothes and took him back to malbaie, the fraser, with me alone. i meant to talk and there was no need of a word of explana- to him, to use all the force that was in me, and tion. no one ever suspected me. that he i hoped i should be given a power beyond was drowned while swimming in a place what i had ever had. i had helped men out known to be dangerous was enough. 'ac- of evil as fixed as his-i hoped that this time, cidentally killed while swimming with his when i cared most, the power might be in me. brother-in-law'—that was what the papers so we came here. on the bank, where this said. even my sister never dreamed the cabin stands, we sat and talked, and he truth. i could not, of course, go back to my jeered at me for my helplessness and cursed work-i, a criminal-so i traveled for a me for my interference. i am not a stolid year, not knowing what i could do, trying man by nature- to find how i could go on living. then the david's big hand went without his volition thought came to me that this was the ex- over the locked fingers. piation, to bring my wrecked soul and body “—and i felt his insults to the reach of and stay always here, seeing that water by every nerve. but i pulled myself together, day, hearing it by night. if i could have and changed the subject. i thought that given myself up to justice it would have made later, perhaps, i might have more success- me almost happy, but i could not bring shame i might be inspired to say what would touch on the church. perhaps i was wrong to him. he might see that i was patient, and think so, perhaps it was part of the darkness take some account of that, and listen more that thickened on me, but that way seemed kindly. i suggested that we should go into closed. so i have made my own punishment the pool for a swim before lunch. i knew it has been harder than electrocution, it to be dangerous water, but i was an ex- gillespie.” he turned wistful, tragic eyes pert swimmer-better and stronger than he on his hearer. --and i had no fear for either of us. we a s the man told his story it recalled an un- went in, he singing a vaudeville song that set formed memory to david's mind. he could my nerves on edge, that he meant to set my not place the association, but the thought nerves on edge- , still shivering from his seized him strongly and held through the last speech. he dived, and as he came up horror of the tale-yet the horror was first close to me the words he said- ” and most. the fingers under david's suddenly threw staring at him, dazed, he tried to believe off his clasp and flung themselves aloft. that what he had been told was not true; “the words he said," hampton cried that it was part of the man's insanity. but and gave a gasping groan. then, with in- there had been truth and fact in every accent stantaneous reaction, “i must not lose my of the story-it was one that must be be- head,” he whispered, catching his breath. lieved. and at length he gave up—this was “i must tell it all to you. i cannot repeat not the way out. he laid his hand again on those words, and it is not necessary. they the bent shoulder. were an insult to his wife, to my sister, too “hampton,” he said, "you mustn't de- horrible to be thought. when i heard them, spair. this life may be wrecked, as you say, everybody's magazine “i wisłe is only a bit of a long eternity. i do but think all the time of that man mak- ma while there's faith and repentance pos- ing his own hell, through the ages—that sick sible, the happiness of eternity is possible. soul that i should have cured, that i killed.” if i, knowing this, can yet forgive you and the shattered nerves had lost their hold love you, don't you know that god can do now; the muscles of his face worked fright- so infinitely more easily? you mustn't de- fully; the eyes closed and opened with un- spair-your soul may yet be saved alive.” meaning rapidity; the lucid interval was end- then gillespie had a shock. the dark eyes ing. david, astonished at the man's attitude met his with a smile. “my soul?” hampton toward his own fate, yet felt humility before repeated in surprise. “i'm not worrying the high unselfishness that could put aside about my soul, gillespie. that's lost for his everlasting future in an all-absorbing ever-i have reasoned it out over and over- anxiety for that of another. and suddenly as over and over-long, long nights,” he whis- he searched in his mind for help, in the dark pered, his eyes glowing with a retrospective places of memory he came upon the asso- pain. “god will forgive me i know myciation that had baffled him. the story of master. but the power isn't in me to be the unknown doctor on the boat-it was the forgiven. that moment showed i was sinful story of hampton. the two sides fitted to- at the core-i could never trust now any gether without a jar. in his own mind he longing for goodness that i might seem to was certain, from the moment that the mem- have-any sorrow for my crime. i can bear ory recurred to him, of the identity of the my punishment, gillespie; i always could cases. the bearing of the doctor's evidence bear my own punishments, even as a child. on hampton's tragedy flashed clearly before but even then it was a possession with me to him—the murdered man had been insane-the go wild at seeing another child punished; it autopsy had proved it. he was irresponsible- wasn't unselfishness, it was a temperamental the doctor had used the words “as irresponsi- peculiarity. i think it was that feeling which ble as any patient in bloomingdale”—and led me into the ministry-i was driven by an the statement carried authority. this would intense desire to save souls from the con- be medicine indeed. gillespie turned to the sequences of their sins--all the souls i could. hermit impulsively, joyfully, and stopped with i could not bear to let one go. it grew to be a the words on his lips. could he prove his manner of madness with me,i was unbal- certainty? could he risk a mistake? was anced at my best, i'm afraid," and he smiled hampton in condition to be questioned, on again with an appeal in his eyes, as they the chance that two stories were identical lifted to his friend. “i know-i've preached whose identity would seem a miracle? the it—what you say—that god will forgive us thought stopped him. he must think it out; till we lose the power of repentance. i've he must reason out as far as he might its lost it. i seem to have no feeling about my effect on his friend; not for anything in the future-i've been in eternal misery five years, 'world would he add to his suffering, nor raise a you see. i'm in it now-i can bear it. but hope to be disappointed. with that, clutch- the unbearable thought is that he is lost-the ing desperately after a thought of comfort, he man i killed. o god! o god! the darkness found himself saying words that seemed to and the suffering!” he wailed, sending his come from beyond himself, the very words voice out like the peal of a mournful bell. over which he had taken issue with the strange then he caught himself sternly. “i will doctor. without conscious volition they flew not let my brain go. i must talk to you, and to him out of dimness like birds from the sky. know what you say. but don't you see, “you speak the word of hope yourself, gillespie, my salvation isn't the point. it's hampton," he began. “a sick soul,' you that lost soul that drags me down. it was say. there lies the chance for him. isn't it my affair to save souls—for that i was trained possible that the man was as helpless to live ---for that i worked and hoped-it was my right as a cripple is helpless to walk straight? high business-the highest a man can assume. isn't moral disease often as blameless, as and i sent a being black with sin straight to much to be pitied, as little to be condemned damnation. the man was steeped in vice, as physical? can't we believe that an steeped in selfishness and cruelty worse than infinite intelligence—the good lord-know- vice-he went with that rotten soul from mying the causes and excuses that we miss, may hand to judgment. how is there a chance for find few cases beyond pardon?” him? if i were in highest heaven what could saying such words, he wondered. did the forgiveness of sins he believe these ideas that he was offering o lord, let the light come!” and the rapids earnestly to a desperate need? as he con- thundered a passionless amen. sidered, his heart sank, for his conscience at times also he came back to the story he questioned him. but when he saw hamp- had told, and wandered pathetically in the ton's face he could not but be glad that from mire. but it was always that other lost soul, an unknown heaven the winged message had never his own, for which he sorrowed. part descended upon him. the quivering fingers of his madness it must have been, yet it was stiffened to stillness, the eyes fixed their gaze, a heavenly distortion of reason by which a intent, inquiring, on david's. man forgot his own eternity in another's. "i have never had that thought,” he said "i sent a soul to hell-a lost soul-a lost slowly. “do you mean that it is possible soul. it is dark. i can see but a lost soul that the man was so warped-mentally, that sits in darkness and in the shadow of morally—perhaps by physical causes, that death-in the shadow of death." he wasn't responsible? that his sin was in and david, agonized, did not know if he that case not sin, but in a manner insanity? might tell him what he believed, did not dare that, being so, he was not wicked but only hold the cup of healing to his parched lips pitiful, not to be judged but to be forgiven, for fear that the draught within might prove not condemned but— ". to be not healing, but poison. yet he kept he stopped, gasping. slowly there was the thought that had brought comfort in- dawning on his face a radiance such as david sistent before the sufferer's mind. had not seen on a man's face before. “listen, dear hampton," and he took the “the light, the light!” he whispered, and jerking hands in his strong hold. “listen! then, throwing the pure, great tones of his he may be forgiven-he may be happy. voice from him he filled the small room, try to think that.” that other question of filled the gorge of the rushing river with hope, hampton's own eternity, so great to his own with jubilation. “let the light come! o mind, he did not even touch upon to this lord, let the light come!” tortured unselfishness. his head fell back; the luminous eyes “you mean he may have been irrespon- closed. david, leaning over him in anxiety, sible?” the invalid harked back to the idea saw that the strain had been great, and that as eagerly as if it were the first time. he was indeed very ill. there was desperate “surely, surely i mean it! souls cannot need of a doctor here, but there was no time be equally responsible any more than bodies now to get one. tenderly he put hampton can be equally strong. the great starter into his cot bed, and the afternoon wore on makes the handicaps balance." the words and it came to be evening as he cared for him. astonished him as he spoke them. they were he saw that he could not leave him that not his-his whole belief had been otherwise. night, and as it grew late he lighted candles but he went on: “he may have been as blame- about the darkening room, and marshaledless as you or i. try to remember that.” the bare resources of the place as efficiently “bless you, gillespie. thank you for as he could for a night of anxious care. saying it over and over. thank you for be- the long hours were crowded with such ing so patient. he may be blameless," he incidents as a man might not forget--no whispered to himself as if to fix the thought. moment of that night ever grew dim in gil and david had ceased to ask himself lespie's memory. at times the dying man sternly, “do i believe this?” he only asked put out his hand and held david's coat anxiously, “can i make him believe it?" sleeve as if he clung to his only anchor; at about midnight, after a troubled, short times he smiled radiantly at him and blessed sleep, the dark eyes opened wide and stared him for his friendship—more than all for the at david, brilliant, questioning. “clouds thought that had brought hope, going back and darkness are over me," he whispered, to it over and over; but at times the blackness and his friend bent and said clearly: again held him, and the wonderful voice, “the light is coming, hampton-surely calm, hopeless, as gillespie had first known it is coming.” it, rang from the little cabin into the night. with the flash of a smile the thin hand "clouds and darkness! clouds and dark- slipped to david's face. “let the light ness are round about me,” he announced come," and again, with a last breath of the over and over as if from the pulpit, to david voice that had swayed multitudes, “o lord, and the still 'hills. “let the light come! let the light come.” the hand fell. everybody's magazine and david stood, and with arms lifted said the near-by bushes white and ghostly. with a prayer for the soul so close, so far, and a that, to his overstrung imagination rose a prayer for his own soul. had he lied to this picture of himself as he must look standing in pitiful dead-did he believe what he had told the doorway of this solitary cabin, facing him, what the other had clung to as he went dark mountains, with his momentary torch of under the dark waters; did he believe it? as birch bark tossing over him—what was life if another's voice spoke through his lips he itself but a lonely flame of a moment—what said aloud: did it matter to him if he had light or not to "i believe in a forgiveness of sins and a life guard the broken lamp of life that had gone everlasting broader than we dream. i believe out? he threw down the bark and stamped that more than the saints get to heaven.” it out. all at once he knew he did not care. his nerves were keyed to their highest note he was too tired to make another effort for and it was as if in reality that there arose any reason. before him, for a tense, sharp moment, a there was no chair in the bare little room vivid picture of a face, dark-browed, strong, where hampton lay, and david went into the introspective of gaze, keen of glance-the farther room, setting the door wide between, face of the unknown doctor on the boat, but closing carefully the outside door to the whose words had been on his lips through the gallery. there must be no chance that any drama of the evening, whose words, as he wild thing of the forest might enter here. he remembered them, he believed. he had dropped, worn out, into a seat; his arms lived through experience to conviction; theory stretched over the table, he laid his head on and logic were as winds powerless to shake them and fell deeply asleep. foundations that had been sunk into the deep he never knew how long he lay there, but, reality of his being. then and after he waking suddenly, as if a hand had been pressed believed that no human being may judge on him, he was aware of a current of cold air, another, that god alone knows the secret and he lifted his head, startled, and looked springs, and, knowing, forgives. up. the dying candles had gone out, the when he had done the little that might place was dark, but there in the open outer be done that night, he wandered about the door, facing him, stood hampton, one hand small place for a few minutes in a great rest- lifted high holding a bright light, and on his lessness and loneliness. he went out on the face such a glory as david had not known how gallery and gazed at the serene stars question to dream. for a long moment the two looked ingly as though to find if the freed soul had at each other, and then the man who was of risen to their distance and their calmness. the earth stirred, and the vision was gone. that the one black moment of a white life shivering with cold he got up and made his was forgiven, he trusted, yet he felt such an way, stumbling, to the spot where his friend urgent need to know how it was with his friend had stood. the door indeed was open, the that he went back and took a listless hand in door that he had himself latched firmly, and both his and bent over, asking. the worn gazing out he saw that over the mountains face was at rest, but an unspeakable sadness was creeping a gray brightness of dawn. at lay on it, and he turned away heartsick. “if his feet gleamed the curl of birch bark that you would come back for only one minute to he had left. for moments he stood motion- tell me,” he cried, as others have cried through less, watching the day rise steadily behind the all centuries. it seemed unendurable that he giant outlines of the hills. then with a peace might not know what lay beyond that shadow beyond understanding in his heart, he turned, into whose depths he had gone down, where and stepping softly, as if not to waken a quiet his friend had slipped from him. that the sleeper, he went to hampton. the pale pure light so longed for was there he hoped, but he morning came in now at the window and wanted passionately to know. flooded the place with a dim radiance, and by the candles had burned low, and he that brightness he saw his friend's wasted wandered vaguely about trying to find others, face glorified. the tragedy of sadness had but he could not see where they were in the faded and in its place lay that which those dark. a roll of birch bark gleamed from a who have seen it may not forget, the bene- rough seat by the open door-he tore a curl diction of the smile of the dead. from the end of it, dripping silver slivers, david knelt softly by the bed with a put a match to it and held it above him, and thanksgiving, for hampton had answered his the light flared over the gallery and turned question. the light had come. the cheat of overcapitalization by will payne ii editor's note.--who gives to individuals the right to dispose of posterity ? when the billion dollar steel trust took over andrew carnegie's steel company, worth eighty mil- lions, and issued upon it millions of stocks and bonds, what were these securities but solemn pledges that as long as law and order shall endure, so long shall thousands and thousands of human beings toil so many hours a day, so many days a week, until death or incapacity releases them, and that the product of this toil shall be the property of these holders of pieces of paper? when the moore brothers and their associates sold to the public millions of similar pieces of paper upon seventy millions of rock island stock, it meant that the farmers and merchants through all the rock island territory must continue for years to come to yield tribute in the shape of extortionate freight and passenger tolls to the holders of these pieces of paper. by the mere fiat of some great financier, the product of unborn thousands is pledged to the descendants and beneficiaries of the present holders of those bits of paper. aladdin's lamp could do no more. m r. a. b. stickney, president of the summer resort because it is much less dis- | chicago great western, recently dis- agreeable than panama. cussed railway rates before the transporta- i think every kindly person is sad when he tion club of st. paul. taking the complete hears railroad men allege that their business statistics for , he found that the average is upon a competitive basis. the falsehood rate of interest paid on all the railroad bonds is so palpable. until recently there was some in the united states was . per cent., and competition that is, one road might offer a the average rate of dividends paid on all the big shipper a larger illegal rebate than an- railroad stock was . per cent. other had offered. as to the small, local “here," said mr. stickney, “is the average shipper, the business was always a monopoly. margin of profit of all the railways in the it is now a monopoly to everybody. being united states. . . . there is no other busi- a monopoly it is entitled to earn only a fair ness in the country which is done on so small return upon the investment. how anybody a margin of profits as . per cent. dividend. can determine whether rates are reasonable no other invested capital gets such small re without knowing what the investment is, turns as the capital invested in railroads." is beyond merely mundane comprehension. obviously, if the capital invested in rail. yet nobody does know what the investment roads can now earn only a little over three per is. railroad men do not wish to know and cent, a year, railroad rates are as low as they do not wish anybody else to know. only they ought to be. when anybody men- by an elaborate and costly federal investiga- tions freight rates, the railroads always trottion can the amount of bogus capitalization out these average dividend statistics—and that the railroads are carrying be discov- prove thereby that rates are already so low ered. but one fact is rather significant. that there's no profit at all in railroading. that is, there are not many spots in the vast if anybody asks how much of the stock mass of capitalization where you can sink a upon which average dividends of . per drill without striking water. cent. are paid is water and therefore entitled take, for instance, that conspicuous group to no dividend whatever, they reply that there of railroads known as the “hard coalers.” can't be any water because the capitalization the anthracite industry naturally invited per mile of american railroads is much less monopolistic ambition. the supply is con- than that of english railroads—which is fined to a region in pennsylvania all of which exactly like arguing that florida is an ideal could be put within an area twenty-two miles everybody's magazine square. this region, roughly speaking, is the powerful friendship of mr. morgan. only a hundred miles from philadelphia and thanks largely to him, a spirit of amity began a hundred and fifty from new york. trans- to pervade the hard-coal roads; but this portation, of course, is the key. better understanding among the carriers did eight railroads tap the territory-namely, not increase the happiness of the “inde- the reading, erie, pennsylvania, lehigh val pendent” operators who depended upon them ley, delaware & hudson, delaware, lacka- for transportation. certain of these oper- wanna & western, new york, ontario & ators projected an independent railroad to western, and the central of new jersey. tidewater. but the project failed. there were, early, various fragile pools and still the independents were dissatisfied gentlemen's agreements; but the first really with freight rates. presently, led by the important step toward monopoly was made pennsylvania coal company, they projected in by f. b. gowen, then president of another road, to be built along the old dela- reading. he began buying all the inde- ware and hudson canal. the pennsylvania pendent coal lands he could get hold of. coal company was a comparatively small he seems to have had the right idea— concern. its output amounted to only five namely, that it doesn't make any particular per cent. of the total. it had $ , , difference what price you pay for property pro- capital stock—a good deal of it scattered in vided it enables you to get a monopoly of a rather small holdings. morgan & co. quietly staple commodity. having a monopoly, you gathered in the majority of the stock. can easily make consumers pay dividends on now just what morgan & co. paid for the purchase price. he bought about a hun- that $ , , of pennsylvania coal com- dred thousand acres of undeveloped coal lands, pany stock has never been disclosed; but the therefore, or a third of the amount in sight. house turned the stock over to the erie rail- in so doing he loaded up reading with an road, which issued therefor $ , , of increased debt to the amount of $ , , . four-per-cent. bonds and $ , , of four- hereafter there existed , , additional per-cent. preferred stock. it was supposed motives for monopolizing hard coal. that this $ , , of preferred stock repre- the result was a pool in , among the sented the bankers' commissions, or bonus; hard coalers, limiting output and fixing prices. but that is neither here nor there. the penn- this continued, with many vicissitudes, until sylvania coal company was the key to a mo- , when the pennsylvania broke away. nopoly of hard coal. the monopoly has been the price of coal fell, and reading, with its in perfect working order ever since. interest load of debt representing undeveloped coal and dividends on the securities issued by the lands, went into the hands of receivers. erie road in payment for pennsylvania coal when an individual goes into bankruptcy company stock amount to sixty cents on the water is squeezed out of him. when a each ton of that company's output. but what railroad goes into bankruptcy not only is the of that? they might as well have amounted water not squeezed out, but more is put in to $ . . consumers of monopolized hard the process is called “reorganization.” coal would have had to pay it. every important railroad reorganization in- volves an inflation of capital. the water-logged erie reading was reorganized and set going again. a. a. mcleod came into control, and reading had been staggering for years promptly took up the plan to monopolize under a debt created to buy undeveloped coal hard coal. some brilliant financiering fol- lands in the hope of a monopoly. as soon lowed. unfortunately the courts upset some as this morgan deal made monopoly effective, of the mcleod leases. the whole structure reading figured that on the basis of the price fell. the fall touched off the panic of . paid for the pennsylvania coal company's once more reading went into the hands of lands, its own coal lands were worth $ ,- receivers and was reorganized. of course , —so it wasn't overcapitalized at all! none of the water was let out. on the con erie's previous experiences in the stock- trary, true to the basic principle of reorgani watering line had been extensive and pictur- zation, more was put in. this time the esque. from to , in the able hands capitalization was lifted above $ , , , of daniel drew, jay gould, and james fisk, or about $ , per mile of road. its share capital was increased from $ , ,- this reorganization, however, brought in to $ , , . nearly all of this in- the cheat of overcapitalization crease was mere fiat, put out for speculative hartford has bought $ , , , or one- purposes and with scarcely a pretense that any half, of the common stock of the new york, actual value lay behind the issue. reams of ontario & western, thereby putting it also stock were printed and put out by night for in the way of becoming a form of capitaliza- the pious purpose of breaking commodore tion bearing fixed charges—for these pur- vanderbilt's corner in the shares. chases by one road of the stock of another in the road, being bankrupt, under- are generally financed in the end by an issue went a typical reorganization, conducted by of bonds. mr. morgan. there were outstanding, for example, $ , , second-mortgage bonds. the loot in union pacific in the reorganization these bonds received seventy-five per cent. of their face value in new how could all this watered stock be so four per cent. bonds, and fifty-five per cent. in handsomely supported and become so agree- new four per cent. preferred stock, or per ably valuable unless the railroads were charg- cent. in all. the old $ , , bogus com- ing the public for coal and for transportation mon stock was converted into a like amount of much more than enough to yield a reasonable new common stock. there was issued $ ,- return upon the actual investment? , of first and second preferred stock, a it is true, as mr. stickney says, that the large part of which was distributed as sweet- average investor in railroad securities gets eners and bonuses to reconcile the old security only a moderate return. the railroad monop- holders. olizes the commodity and charges more for mr. morgan's game it than it is fairly worth; it issues four per cent. stocks and bonds to the full amount this preferred stock entailed no fixed that the monopolistic earning power will sup- charge upon the road. dividends were to port, and sells them to the public; then it be paid on it only if earned. so mr. mor- argues that the charges cannot possibly be gan was liberal in handing it out. the prin- too high because the investor is getting only ciple upon which he proceeded was thus ex- . or . per cent. plained by an admirer: “in reorganizing a after the credit mobilier scandal, con- road mr. morgan takes care to cut down gress investigated the union pacific and fixed charges to an amount within the mini- found that mum earning power. after that is accom- plished everybody can pretty much help it had cost the contractors a little under himself.” $ , , to build the road. in defending the capitalization of the hard- coal roads in , mr. mcleod pointed out for this there was issued, that four of them-namely, reading, erie, $ , , government subsidy bonds new york, ontario & western, and lehigh $ , , first mortgage bonds valley --- had outstanding $ , , of $ , , land grant and income stock upon which no dividend had ever been bonds paid and which had a merely nominal value $ , , common stock in the market. so, if this was water, who was hurt by it- $ , , no dividends being paid and the stuff being of little value? why bother about the old- the government and first-mortgage bonds rags heap? but to-day dividends are paid covered the cost of building the line. the upon all of this stock with the exception of other $ , , of securities represented erie common. last year the prospect of a profits. presently jay gould took a hand dividend on erie common seemed so bright in union pacific. he controlled the kansas that the stock sold at above $ a share, while pacific and denver pacific, which together reading's watered common sold at $ a had $ , , of common stock-all water share. the baltimore & ohio and the lake and of little current value. he persuaded shore roads have jointly bought over sixty the directors of union pacific to buy these million dollars of reading stock, out of a lines and to exchange union pacific stock at total of $ , , —thereby passing it on par for their bogus shares. toward a form of capitalization with fixed overloaded union pacific went into bank- charges. the new york, new haven & ruptcy in , and was reorganized. hold- everybody's magazine ers of the old bonds received in most cases par in new four per cent. bonds with a bonus of fifty per cent. in new preferred stock. there was issued $ , , of new preferred stock, practically all of which was given in bonuses to the old security holders and to the reorganization syndicate. the $ , , of old common stock was converted into the same amount of new common. dividends of ten per cent. a year are now paid on this new common stock. some part of this is due to mr. harriman's brilliant speculations in the stock of other roads. the rest of it is due to a heavy traffic carried at rates higher than would yield a fair return upon the in- vestment. incidentally, the road received the gift of an empire in public lands. the moiety remaining unsold at the time of the reorgani- zation was valued at $ , , . the northern pacific fared even better in this regard. the government gave it , ,- acres of public lands—a piece of gener. osity which in no wise restrained the stock- watering proclivities of the builders and reorganizers. the old stock, practically all water, was ex- changed for new stock of the same amount. the atchison, topeka & santa fé has been reorganized twice. in the last reor- ganization the old % in new general general received mortgage mortgage s % in new % bonds adjustment thus $ , , was converted into $ , , in new %. old second) mortgage received { % in new "a" bonds preferred stock second % in new mortgage received preferred stock "b" bonds northern pacific's water-cure the road has been reorganized three times, and is now capitalized at more than $ , a mile, excluding the bonds that it issued jointly with the great northern to pay for chicago, burlington & quincy stock. canadian pacific is capitalized at only $ ,- a mile. northern pacific's funded debt per mile, excluding the burlington bonds, is greater than the entire capitalization per mile of the canadian road. to understand how northern pacific's capitalization has been boosted to this figure we need only glance at the last reorganization. there were $ , , of first-mortgage bonds out- standing. in the reorganization { $ , in new each $ , received prior lien bond bonds ( % of face value in new all second prior lien and third received bonds. mortgage bonds face value in preferred stock each $ , bond received $ , in new securities. of the “a” and “b” bonds there were $ , , outstanding, and they drew four per cent. a year interest. the holders paid in a cash assessment of four per cent., and received $ , , of new preferred stock which draws five per cent. a year in dividends. the old common stock, about all water and of very little value at the time of the reorgani- zation, was exchanged for the same amount- $ , , of new common stock. this new common stock now draws five per cent. a year in dividends, and until the re- cent deplorable slump in stocks it sold above par. they will tell you that it would not be fair to squeeze out the water in a reorganization. for example, a great many small investors had bought union pacific, northern pacific, and atchison stocks during boom times. times turned bad. · the roads could no longer carry the overcapitalization and the profitless branch lines with which financial geniuses had loaded them. bankruptcy fol- lowed. but the small, innocent investors must not be frozen out. they must be per- mitted to exchange their old stock for new, and so given a chance to recoup when good times come again. such is the argument. as a matter of fact, it doesn't work that way. the ordinary innocent investor gets frightened when he sees the road approaching insolvency, and dumps his stock on a falling market for what little it will fetch; or he is pinched in his own small business and has to sell; or he can't pay the assessment. in any event, he throws over the stock. the opulent the cheat of overcapitalization “ reorganization syndicate” or individual each $ , receiving from $ , to $ , , financiers scoop it in. thus kuhn-loeb and according to priority. their reorganizing associates, including har- the southern pacific railroad was origi- riman, emerged from the union pacific re- nally a quite modest enterprise. to build organization with great blocks of the stock, the road from which the present flourishing which they had taken in at bottom prices. system grew, cost, according to testimony, northern pacific reorganization landed al- less than $ , , , while the syndicate that most half the stock in the hands of morgan, did the building issued to itself $ , , hill, and their crowd. in various securities. the southern pacific, which is a holding company, at present has always wall street wins over nine thousand miles of road. its funded debt and preferred stock issue amount to after the panic of , about thirty thou $ , per mile of road—which, in all hu- sand miles of road underwent reorganiza- man probability, is more than was ever ac- tion. one might mention baltimore & ohio, tually invested in constructing and equipping in which old first preferred stock got the lines. in addition, it has $ , , per cent. of face value in new preferred and common stock. on this common stock divi- per cent. in new common; the old second dends are paid at the rate of five per cent. a preferred received per cent. in new pre- year. last year, after meeting all expenses ferred and per cent. in new common; and charges, the road earned more than and the old common got per cent. in new eight per cent. on this common stock. how preferred and per cent. in new common. could it possibly do that unless it were charg- the general effect of the reorganizations was ing higher rates for transportation than would to inflate further capitalizations that already yield a fair return upon the investment? contained water and to concentrate stock ownership in the hands of wall street syndi- still the same old game cates and big operators. of course, the syn- dicates and the operators have since, in they say that stock-watering in the rail- many cases, sold out the stocks, to their own road field, though practised with regretta- vast profit. if ever hard times come again, ble vigor in the early days, is now a thing of or other conditions arise that made it im- the past. but saying so doesn't make it so. possible for the roads to support the over- the process continues, but, in the main, in capitalization, the same syndicates, with the somewhat subtler forms. the year was same machinery, will kindly intervene and not an early day. somebody then bought, put the concerns through reorganization, in- in the market, great quantities of the stock cidentally gathering in the stocks again at of the chicago, burlington & quincy road- bottom prices. at about $ or $ a share. presently the four famous builders of the central it was announced that, under the auspices pacific came out of that enterprise with four of messrs. hill and morgan, the great large fortunes. there is only one way in northern and northern pacific roads would which they could have made these fortunes, jointly buy all the burlington stock offered that is, by causing the railroad to issue to at $ a share, payable in four per cent. them securities vastly in excess of the money bonds. those two roads did buy $ , ,- they put in, and then by charging such rates of burlington stock, out of a total of for transportation as would make the artifi- $ , , , and issued therefor $ , ,- cial securities valuable. the common stock, ooo of four per cent. bonds—which were then certainly, was all water. in , when the sold to investors, who, to be sure, got but a central pacific settled its debt to the govern modest return upon their money. say, for ment by giving three per cent. notes, it was the sake of the argument, that there was no deemed expedient to "readjust” its capital- water whatever in burlington stock. the ization and its relationship with the southern capital invested in it would then show as re- pacific. so holders of $ , , central ceiving eight per cent. a year. thanks to pacific stock exchanged their shares for the the hill-morgan operation of converting it same amount of southern pacific stock and into double the amount in bonds, the capital received in addition a bonus of twenty-five invested now actually shows as earning only per cent. in four per cent. bonds. the old four per cent.—which helps out arguments bonds were exchanged for new securities, before the interstate commerce commission everybody's magazine and elsewhere that railroad rates cannot pos- sibly be too high because the capital invested gets such a small return. in the messrs. moore and their friends bought up $ , , , in round numbers, of the stock of the chicago, rock island & pacific—which had paid from two to three and a half per cent. a year in dividends through the hard times. by the simple de- vices of a lease and a holding company, they converted this $ , , of rock island into $ , , per cent bonds $ , , per cent preferred stock $ , , common stock $ , , in short, a capitalization of $ , , was converted into a capitalization of $ , , out of hand and without adding a single dollar to the actual in- vestment in the road itself. in railroad securities, the large sums that have been taken out of earnings and applied to per- manent improvements have made this good -so no harm, finally, has been done. in the last two years chicago & northwestern, after meeting all expenses and charges, in- cluding very liberal appropriations for main- tenance of track and equipment, has earned net and clear fifteen per cent. on its total issue of capital stock. but it has actually paid rather less than half of this in dividends. the remainder it has devoted to extensions and permanent improvements. in the last four years, the amount taken out of earn- ings for permanent betterments, over and above the regular and liberal appropriations for maintenance, is $ , , . if one goes back eight years the amount reaches $ , ,- ooo, or half the total stock outstanding at the date of the last annual report. and during all that time the road has paid dividends on its stock averaging about seven per cent.- surely a fair return upon the capital invested. in other words, the chicago & north- western has charged rates for transportation in the last eight years that have plainly yielded more than $ , , over and above a fair return upon the capital invested. and it is alleged to be a signal virtue that this $ , , , instead of being distributed among the stockholders in dividends, has been devoted to extensions and permanent improvements—thereby relieving stockhold- ers, to that important extent, from the ne- cessity of supplying the additional capital that the growth of the system and the in- creased demand for transportation facilities required. and this $ , , enters into mr. stick- ney's calculation as part of that poor, starved railroad capital that gets hardly any return because rates are so low. being criticized in some quarters for this rank inflation, the rock island people then issued a comparative statement proving that, with $ , , of pure water just added, the capitalization of their road, per mile of line, was still decidedly smaller than that of many other western roads—which is quite significant. following this inflation, rock island bought $ , , 'frisco common-all water; never paid a dividend-and gave in exchange per cent. in bonds and per cent. in stock, or per cent. in all. 'frisco bought control of chicago & eastern illinois by issuing certificates at $ a share for the common stock and $ for the preferred. mr. morgan obligingly relieved colonel john w. gates of $ , , louisville & nash- ville stock and sold it to atlantic coast line for $ , , cash, $ , , in four per cent. bonds, and $ , , in stock, or $ ,- , in all. the manner in which mr. harriman trebled the capitalization of chi- cago & alton has been extensively explained and commented upon of late. just here one is reminded of another argu- ment on the railroad side of overcapitalization, put forth by the chicago & northwestern, which may as well be noticed here. they say that if there was originally a good deal of water taking it out of the shipper the public-shippers and travelers—has been compelled to furnish the road, in eight years, with $ , , of capital. but the public gets no return upon the capital that it has thus supplied. the average rate charged per passenger per mile in was . cents against only . cents in . and the average rate charged per ton per mile for freight was the same in as in , namely, . mills. probably some conces- sions to big shippers were cut down mean- while, but the ordinary shipper actually paid more. the public gets no representation in the management on account of the capital that it furnishes. clearly, it ought to control at least one-third of the board of directors. song of the driftweed the chicago & northwestern is merely ately made. that the general effect was to one example out of many. practically all the inflate capitalization is obvious, however. big roads yearly take great sums out of earn- you can hardly bore into this subject any- ings and devote them to permanent improve where without striking water. the last re- ments and extensions. this is held to be port of the interstate commerce commission an exceedingly virtuous practise, and to atone shows that the par value of all outstanding in great part for whatever stock-watering has railroad securities was $ , , , , or been indulged in. the idea really is that if $ , per mile of road. i think it doubtful the financiers have created great quantities of that more than two-thirds of this represents bogus stocks and palmed them off upon the any legitimate investment of capital in the public, it doesn't matter, because the same properties. the gross earnings of the railroads public can be made to pay such rates for for were $ , , , , or an average transportation as will give substantial value of $ , per mile. the dividends paid in to the watered securities. were greater by $ , , than were it is not possible to trace directly the in- paid by substantially the same roads in . flation of capital that has resulted from the gross earnings of the railroads in much of the financial strategy of the railroad amounted to nearly $ per capita of the in late years—such as the pennsylvania rail- entire population. the gross receipts of the road's purchase of baltimore & ohio, norfolk federal government were less than $ per cap- & western, chesapeake & ohio; baltimore, ita. it seems worth while to inquire whether & ohio's purchase of reading; reading's railroad rates are too high; but there can be purchase of the central railroad of new jer- no satisfactory answer until we know what sey, etc., because no new issue of securities to relation outstanding securities bear to the finance each distinct purchase was immedi- actual investment. the third of mr. payne's articles, dealing further with watered railroad securities, will appear in the august number. song of the driftweed by jessie mackay l ere's to the home that was never, never ours! toast it full and fairly when the winter lowers. speak ye low, my merry men, sitting at your ease; harken to the drift in the roaring of the seas. here's to the life we shall never live on earth! cut for us awry, awry, ages ere the birth. set the teeth and meet it well, wind upon the shore; like a lion, in the face look the nevermore! here's to the love we were never meant to win! what of that? a many shells have a pearl within; some are mated with the gold in the light of day; some are buried fathoms deep in the seas away. here's to the selves we shall never, never be! we're the drift of the world and the tangle of the sea. it's far beyond the pleiad, it's out beyond the sun where the rootless shall be rooted when the wander-year is done! what is the house of lords? by arnold white author of "english democracy," "for efficiency," etc. in england we have, socially speak- (ing, no individuals. who plays a "lone hand,” plays to lose. we are caste-ridden; the rich peer is the brah- man, the penniless commoner the pa- riah. speaking broadly, we are servile to the castes above us, overbearing to inferiors. were it not so, the fragment from the wreck of feudalism known as the house of lords would never have floated safely into the twentieth century. how completely the caste principle still dominates english society is clear to any competent observer. school- masters, navy and army crammers, and other experts in preparing the middle and upper classes for their careers, openly state that direct connection with the peerage gives a young man ten years' start in the handicap of life. in the political arena the cadet of a noble house who becomes a candidate for parliament is already half a winner. essential details concerning him are in “debrett”-a guide-book to the peer- age. his rival may have the grace of mercury, the strength of sandow, the tongue of savonarola, the virtue of st. anthony, and the wisdom of solon; but if he be a middle-class smith or jones, he is required to prove himself in public for ten years before he ceases to be furtively regarded as a scheming adventurer with nefarious designs on the public. this public's desire to know who a man is, its dislike of strangers, and its reverence for caste, partially account for the feline vitality. of the house of lords—these things, together with the reverence paid to the upper house as representative of prop- erty, and the actual grip of the lords on the land. in theory indefensible, the house of lords as a senate seems in fact ir- replaceable. england has no supreme court to guard the constitution; the royal veto has fallen into disuse; no alexander hamilton has planted in our constitution the fundamental principles of liberty, life, and ownership. noth- ing forbids legislation that would im- pair faith in contracts. any jack cade or jack straw who can secure a ma- jority in the commons could alter the laws of life and property-after getting rid of the house of lords. in fact, our only existing safeguard against des- potism, socialism, and extravagance, or other results of brain-storm in a dema- gogue who has captured the house of commons—to our shame be it said, is the hereditary house. legal power to suggest second thoughts to the omnipotent, but never unanimous proletariat belongs to the lords alone. and—an extremely im- portant point, since it means an assur- ance against arbitrary use of the veto —the one condition of existence to the lords is that they shall always be right in the view of the majority of the people. for the hereditary principle is abhorred by sensible people, whether philoso- what is the house of lords? phers or demagogues, and the fact of land- the house of commons is about to pass a ownership in town and country creates among resolution abridging the powers of the upper radicals and socialists permanent hostility house. in , a similar resolution was de- to the house of lords; the lords, therefore, feated by to ; in , by to ; legislate with a halter round their necks. an by to in ; by to in . important bill sent up from the house of even if the resolution is carried this year, commons can be rejected only when the unless the commons are supported by the political barometer is at “set fair.” in other army and navy commanders having author- words, the peers will sign their own death ity to vote, it will have no result. but the warrant the first time they fail to discern the fact remains that the position of the peers is true feelings of the country more accurately now seriously challenged for the first time than the house of commons. when they since the great reform bill; and the agita- err, they fall. twice in the last fifteen years tion gives fresh reason for an examination of general elections have confirmed the view the house of lords, as it now is. taken by the lords and have contradicted the assumption of ministers in the lower house ii that they, and not the peers, represent the peo- ple. the house of commons represents our battle is joined on the issue of the land. moods; the house of lords our settled opin- during the nineteenth century the dedica- ions. a sloth when the tories are in power, the tion of land to pleasure and sport advanced upper house is a porcupine with the liberals. by leaps and bounds, greatly increasing the de suasana copyright by h. c. white co. interior of the house of lords, showing the throne and the official seat of the lord chancellor. everybody's magazine power of the house of lords by restoring plenty. the absence of the vine and olive in the worst features of that feudalism which, this climate simplifies the agricultural prob- throughout the eighteenth century, was crum- lem. no jacquerie is likely to occur in our bling. the lords now own in the aggre- time among rural laborers who are without gate , , acres of land with an an- the revolutionary instinct, and who prefer the nual rent roll of $ , , , or an average glow of great cities to the monotony of the of $ , a year each. children who are spade. to inherit this land are labeled lawmakers in yet when all this is said, the fact remains their cots. and a bankrupt, a voluptuary, that it is the resentment by masses of people or an idiot, though himself suspended, hands who are neither socialists nor radicals, of on to his son or successor the power of their exclusion from the land and of the legislation. it goes without saying that no enormous unearned wealth accruing from legislature so composed can act impartially in the land to the lords, that is prompting the dealing with questions affecting the land laws. efforts now being made to abridge the power it is the demand of the people for rights in of the peers. and these efforts are not likely this vast territory that is threatening the ex- to fail. istence of the house of lords. the prime the powers of the lords already have minister, sir henry campbell-bannerman, been restricted until the control of the in beginning the long-pending assault on the commons in all the great affairs of state is land system, has declared that a strong de- practically supreme. the lords may not mand for small holdings exists in many parts meddle with money bills; have no control over of the country, and that in one district after the navy or army; may not interfere with the another official returns show that the request control of the house of commons over foreign for land was met and colonial af- by a blank refusal fairs, matters re- on the part of the lating to peace and lords. these as- war, treaties nor sertions are, how- internal adminis- ever, vigorously tration. the denied by the lords cannot up- marquis of lans- set the cabinet nor downe on behalf exercise control of the peers. over the monarch. whatever the all these things truth as to this are in the domain may prove, it is of the elected certain that the house. practically immediate hin- the only power left drance to the dis- to the lords is that tribution of rural of the veto, which land in england is, is now threatened. contrary to general as individuals, belief, less the un- however, the willingness of lords have the landlords to sell sa me personal copyright by h. c. white co. than the inordi- the houses of parliament from across the thames. privileges as for- nate cost of trans- merly — they are fer caused by the opposition of the lawyers free from arrest in civil process in "coming, go- to the simplification of the land system. the ing, or returning"; every peer has the right great leaders of the legal profession are peers of access to the crown, and dukes are officially themselves, and a sinister alliance exists be- the king's cousins. a peer accused of crime tween hereditary privilege and the trades- may refuse to recognize the courts. he then union instinct of ennobled lawyers. · must be tried by his fellow members of the to be sure, there is no land hunger in upper house. but this has come to be re- england of the kind with which ireland is garded as a dangerous practise, since the familiar. almost anybody content to satisfy majority of the peers themselves seem to the attorney and the landlord can buy land in resent such use of privilege. a recent in- what is the house of lords? stance of this was the trial of earl russell, creations are resented by peers of ancient accused of bigamy. the evidence tended lineage as a dilution of the privileges that to show that he had remarried after an their ancestors monopolized. american divorce that was proved invalid. if the peers are to-day ten times as numer- lord russell de- ous as they were manded a jury of his under the tudors, peers, and although the liberals are re- there was good rea- sponsible. mr. glad- son to believe that a stone, despite the common jury would fact that his farewell have dealt leniently speech in parliament with him, on the was a solemn warn- ground that his of- ing to the heredi- fense was purely tary house that its technical, the house days were numbered, of lords sent him to created more peers prison. than any one min- ister since the revo- iii lution, while the se- cret favor with which the title to nobili- the peerage is re- ty in england rests garded by the rich on two conditions- members of the lib- upon the royal sum- eral party contrasts mons to parliament sharply with the and, according to menaces commonly modern doctrine, up- uttered from the on taking the seat. platform. since the unlike the continen- great reform bill, tal noble, therefore, liberals have creat- who is noble by birth, ed peers to children of a british created by the con- peer are commoners servative and union- the duke of norfolk at tea, after the during the father's ist governments. lifetime. sons of the the radical, mr. higher nobility are by courtesy permitted cyril flower, for instance, won a seat in to use the prefix "lord,” as in the case the commons by the eloquence with which he of lord charles beresford, but they are not condemned the house of lords. he then peers. eldest sons of peers are often given accepted a peerage—is now lord battersea. titular rank because courtesy permits them including three princes of the royal blood, to use their fathers' lesser titles—as in the prince of wales, the duke of connaught, the case of the earl of yarmouth, who is not and prince christian of schleswig-holstein, and will not be a peer until the death of his there are now peers. there are also father, the marquis of hertford. irish and eleven imperial peeresses, and three scottish scotch peerages do not of necessity give mem- peeresses in their own right, of whom mona bership in the house of lords. for instance, josephine t. stapleton, baroness beaumont, lord curzon has an irish peerage, but is a girl of thirteen, has the most ancient title, eligible to membership only in the house of her barony dating back to . commons. in the reign of elizabeth there for two decades past the peer-making were only sixty lay peers. the stuarts power has belonged to the leading men of a created , pitt . taking the whole party who were of much the same strain of house there are only sixty peers who can blood. lord salisbury's government and boast of old titles. there are, in fact, two that of mr. balfour—with the exception of orders in the house of lords, and the peers mr. chamberlain in the cabinet and mr. themselves never forget the difference be- andrew bonar law, under secretary for the tween the old and the new men-although it board of trade-consisted of a coterie of is concealed from the outer world. new peers and peers' relations. the lords ruled goodwood races. everybody's magazine the cabinet. so intimate was one minister with another that almost everybody was known and addressed by col- leagues as freddie, algy, arthur, george, alfred, gerald, or victor. these ministers never mixed on terms of equality with the middle classes. they had no violent likes or dislikes; they worshiped “good form" and decorum; and regarded vice and immorality with less aversion than a breach of etiquette. with a cabinet that was practically a sub-committee of the lords, the recommendations submitted to the king for the creation of peerages were governed by two considera- photograph by messrs. bassano, london. lord james of hereford. the duke of devonshire, one of the richest and most influential of english peers. tions-political convenience and national advantage. it has never been denied that the late lord salisbury's rather sudden retirement from office was the result of a difference of opinion with the sovereign on the subject of the eleva- tion of a certain financier to the house of lords. the marquis of salisbury is reported to have said, “i am an old man, sir, and would ask permission to leave my suc- cessor the privilege of recommending the elevation of sir - to the house of lords." many peerages are granted as the result of bargains between party managers and aspirants to hereditary honors. in the majority of cases there is some ostensible reason which an easy-going public opinion accepts as sufficient to justify the appointment. does a man brew an ocean of the duke of richmond, what is the house of lords? arsenical beer, amassing a great fortune thereby—a small sum given to charity and a large sum to party funds are counted as justifying the elevation of that brewer to the red benches of the upper house. occasionally the creation of a peer is accompanied by mystery. a case in point is a barony created last year. the recipient was a rich man, but there was no reason known to the public for conferring on him even the honor of knighthood. this peerage is still the subject of angry comment and may some day see the light as a chronique scandaleuse. the new peer is not a politician. he was . the duke of portland, the duchess of albany and the bishop of london at a fulham palace garden party. unknown in any of the spheres in which men acquire such distinction as is conferred in great britain on an admiral who has won a battle, a statesman who has ruled a great department, or a philanthropist who raises a down-trodden class. the real fact was, i am informed on good authority, that it was necessary to provide an annuity for a lady who has played a prominent part in smart society during the last few years, and that the peerage was payment to one of the two men who would consent to provide the money required to prevent a colossal scandal. it is true, of course, that exceptional ability in science, marked success in the law, or distinction in army or navy, still qualifies a man to a place in the upper house. but nevertheless the sale of peerages and other titles has photograph by lafayette, i ondon. lord william cecil. everybody's magazine iv now reached such a point that the man in house except in obedience to special whips the street has begun to grumble. mr. gib- from their party, are just like average well- son bowles has publicly declared without groomed men. others are fusty eccentrics contradiction that a very large sum was who might be mistaken for curio dealers in a placed at the disposal back street in a cathe- of mr. balfour and dral town. one such his chief whip before is the marquis of clan- the last election. mr. ricarde, whose treat- bowles supports his ment of his irish ten- statement by saying ants has been a subject that the election fund of parliamentary de- has been enriched by bate for more than two the recipients of titles decades, and who is now who have paid sums the subject of a disinher- varying between $ ,- iting bill. others prove for a knighthood in their bearing that and $ , , for a they have risen from new peerage. mr. the ranks, like the bowles goes on to say cheerful orator at the that it was calculated mansion house ban- a year ago that at least quet, who began his $ , , must have oration in the following been encashed from terms: “sprung, my various sources by the lord, as you and i are, party fund. from the dregs of the people " it would be a mis- take, however, in spite of appearances, to the upper house, think that the house thus constituted, con- of lords is composed tains the best and the largely of degenerate worst of the nation; the scions of an effete aris- richest and the poor- tocracy, or that the est. i know a peer of ability displayed by its ancient lineage who members either in de- has just been expelled photograph by lafayette, london. bate or in the transac- from his club for not the duke of abercorn. tion of business in com- paying his annual sub- mittee or in the cabinet scription. the claims of the club committee falls below the standard of the best men in were unmet because the peer in question did the house of commons. outside the land not possess the money and could not get it; yet question or their own privileges, the lords are he is not included among the “black sheep." more impartial than the commons. i once collectively, the lords are a strange sight, had occasion to give evidence before a com- and a rare one, for four out of five seldom mittee of the house of commons on the alien attend a debate. stand in st. stephen's question and before a committee of the house hall and watch the demeanor of the peers as of lords on the sweating system. they file out into the night after a great division t he impression left on my mind by the two on a national crisis. a more extraordinary committees was that the majority of the body of men to invest with the power of members of the commons' committee were constitutional veto cannot be imagined. the always looking over their shoulders in the leaders, of course, look like other people, but direction of their own constituencies, with an among the others retreating chins and fore- eye to the effect their report might have upon heads, the affectation of monocles, rickety their electoral prospects; while the lords' legs, dried-up physique and vacant faces committee seemed to have no other object than are unpleasantly numerous. certain noble the investigation of truth. the late m. c. lords, of the sort who never enter the bradlaugh, one of the commons' committee, what is the house of lords? for instance, used his great forensic powers to about two years ago one of the scandals that browbeat me into admissions that might be afflict all highly organized and wealthy so- of electoral value to the party to which he cieties became public in consequence of pro- belonged. on the other hand, courtesy, cedures before a criminal court. in the course patience, energy, wisdom, and impartiality of this trial correspondence was impounded in characterized the labors of the lords' com- which the names of no less than six peers were mittee, of which such men as the late lord implicated. blackmail to the extent of $ ,- derby, lord dunraven, and lord rothschild was paid by one of them to the accused were members. the report of the commons' to prevent the mention of his name. as for committee, being a compromise of political the other five peers, the decision of a com- opinions, was worthless; even intellectually it mittee composed of a law officer of the crown, contrasted unfavorably with the report of the a representative of the king, and a cabinet lords. minister, was that it was better that no prose- cution should take place, as the public scandal v would be so great as to counterbalance the advantages of bringing to justice a group of on the vices and follies of individual peers coroneted debauchees. —the so-called "black sheep”—are founded of the twenty-two english dukes in the the most telling attacks upon the hereditary peerage of england, there are only five whose house. circumstances, abilities, and career entitle it is only fair to say that “black sheep" in them to be regarded as possible leaders of the house of lords are, however, not more the nation. the dukes of norfolk, bedford, numerous than in other walks of life. among devonshire, portland, and richmond have the twelve apostles was a judas-nearly nine maintained the best traditions of public tea on the terrace of the houses of parliament. per cent. of the apostolate. among well- fed men of leisure, there will always be a certain number who are unworthy, nor can more be expected of peers than of apostles. some of the blackest of the flock are those whose crimes never reach the newspapers. service. as for the other dukes, matrimonial scandals, impecuniosity, or dissoluteness are, or should be, disqualifications for member- ship of an assembly that confers hereditary powers of government upon its members. but the best of the house of lords is very everybody's magazine good. repose, straightforwardness, courtesy, $ , , , and a balance sheet for that coolness, and courage are the characteristics time shows nothing on the credit side of the of these english gentlemen who happen to account; but the critics point out that such a be peers. probably as good an example as system is impracticable for other owners. any other of what is best in the house of among the dukes, the only other great lords is the duke of bedford. he is a personality is the duke of devonshire, whose middle-aged man who is without ambition, combination of common sense, patriotism, who shuns public notice and refuses office. and lethargy gives him a unique position. he is very shy and silent, but buoyant in enormously wealthy, and married to a for- spirits, with the bearing of a man who lives eign wife, he has cosmopolitan tastes, and much in the open air. when he was urged to spends a portion of the year abroad. by the take office and to come to public he is credited the front in politics, the with perennial somno- unfitness for leadership lence, but really he is of all the other dukes was alert and astute. cold represented to him. this in nature and tempera- one was a drunkard, that mentally indisposed as one was an incompetent, he is to express his feel- the other one had a for- ings, the superficial ob- eign wife. “ah," said server attributes to him the duke of bedford, want of earnest purpose. “you wish to act on the the late right hon. principle that among powell williams was blind men a one-eyed wont to repeat a say- man is king." but so ing to the effect that he well and so quietly has had only once seen the he served that shrewd duke of devonshire in judges speak of him in earnest, and that was country houses and club when he said “cham- smoking - rooms as a pagne ought to be future prime minister drunk out of a pail.” when the country may the duke of devon- be really in extremity. shire is a great english- in command of the man and has played a smartest militia battal- part in public life for ion in the country, the half a century. duke of bedford has among the mar- set himself to save the quises, lord lansdowne militia, an institution stands first. during the founded a thousand early part of the boer years ago by alfred the war, when he was war great, and marked down secretary, and british for destruction by a generals were retreat- chancery barrister, mr. ing before a boer po- haldane, last march. the militia, like the tato-dealer, lord lansdowne was held house of lords, is an institution that must responsible by public opinion for the hu- have in it something harmonious with the miliating fiasco. with the gay unwisdom english character, or it would not have lasted of his order, he went salmon fishing in ireland for ten centuries, surviving dynasties, revolu- in august, , when lord wolseley and tions, and time. whether the duke will suc- the staff officers at the war office were ceed remains to be seen, but his courage, reso- entreating him to mobilize an army corps lution, and industry have been phenomenal. with the object of preventing the disasters in money matters the story of the bedford- that afterward happened. lord lans- shire estates writes like a romance. in downe's impeachment was called for, and eighty years the dukes of bedford have spent the case against him has never been dis- on education, churches, schools, pensions, proved; but at the height of his unpopu- compassionate allowances, etc., no less than larity the prime minister-lord salisbury- lord rosebery and his son at the ascot races. what is the house of lords? nominated lord lansdowne to succeed him camp as a militia officer and took a strong as foreign minister, believing him the strong- part in the work of tariff reform. it is safe est man in the cabinet. and as foreign min- to predict for lord ampthill a great future. ister lord lansdowne has done well, while he is a giant and an athlete, good looking, as leader of the house of lords, he is inimi- dangerous when roused. i remember an in- table. his advice will be followed by the cident at the annual meeting of the liberal majority of the peers, and in his hands prac- union club. a member used to attend ap- tically rests the fate of the house of lords. parently for the sole purpose of insulting lord among the earls there is no rival to james of hereford, thus stopping the busi- the mysterious and delightful “public ora- ness of the club. this happened for three tor,” archibald philip primrose, earl of or four years, until, upon one occasion, the rosebery, who sits in the upper house in eccentric rose as usual to wreck the meeting. virtue of his english barony. lord rose - after he had stopped the proceedings for bery's mysterious eclipse in political life has three or four minutes, lord ampthill, without not dimmed national appreciation of his emotion or haste, quietly rose from his seat, charm. in private life he is no less attrac- walked to the place where the orator was mis- tive than as a statesman. a grand seigneur, conducting himself, clasped him in his arms, with cultured taste, knowledge, and great and bore him struggling from the room. the wealth, his hospitality is splendid without os- difficulty thåt had puzzled some of the finest tentation. an omnivorous reader-he has legal brains in the united kingdom was been known to read while washing his hands thus solved by the decision of a young man -he remembers what he reads; and since who may always be trusted to do the right the death of lord randolph churchill, and thing. the accession of king edward to the throne, all bishops of the established church are there has been no man in public or private members of the house of lords, to which they life to approach him in the war of the wits. add no strength. they were originally created mystery broods over lord rosebery; some peers because they were territorial magnates, unseen hand holds him back. not because of their ecclesiastical rank, and earl roberts, of course, is the great soldier since they parted with their landed possessions who is endeavoring to persuade englishmen their presence in parliament is an anachron- to accept virtual conscription, thereby bring- ism since the nonconformist ministers, cath- ing many recruits to the socialist ranks. olic priests, and jewish rabbis are excluded. among the eighty viscounts, the names of st. aldwyn and wolseley are the only two in all nations that have become great of distinction. as sir michael hicks-beach, powers particular families have stood out lord st. aldwyn, when chancellor of the conspicuously for generations as personifying exchequer, sold to himself his own property principles; they receive homage voluntarily on salisbury plain for the sum of $ , , , offered; their fame is jealously guarded and and he also drew a pension which is granted cherished by the people. so whatever on the ground of poverty, although he had re- future may be in store for the lords, the past ceived nearly $ , , in salary besides the is their own, and england is proud of it. if revenues of his estates. the hereditary principle is abolished, if black there are no less than imperial barons, sheep are excluded, and access to the patrician forty-four scottish and sixty-five irish crea- order is limited to men of real merit, the tions. i incline to pick arthur . villiers upper house, in some form, will be left, in russell, g.c.s.i., baron ampthill, as the spite of the ballot, for generations to come. most capable and promising of the company. as i have said, the general sentiment is some people would prefer alfred harms- against the continuance of the hereditary worth, lord northcliffe, but lord ampthill's principle. the resistance of the conserva- achievements are unique. not yet forty, tive leaders to its extinction is unintelligible. for four years he was governor of madras, they must be aware that it can last only and for nine months he was viceroy of during quiet times—when the country is india during lord curzon's absence. this prosperous and contented. unless the hered- position of tremendous responsibility lord itary principle is surrendered when times are ampthill occupied with perfect success. quiet, it will be violently withdrawn in the when he returned home, he went into next crisis of british national life. . the honk-honk breed by stewart edward white author of "the blazed trail," "the silent places,” etc. illustrations by horace taylor it was sunday at the ranch. for a won- smith catched it. he named this yere bull i der the weather had been favorable, the snake clarence and got it so plumb gentle it windmills were all working, the bogs had followed him everywhere. one day old p. t. dried up, the beef had lasted over, the remuda barnum come along and wanted to buy this had not strayed-in short, there was nothing clarence snake-offered terwilliger a thou- to do. sang had given us a baked bread- sand cold-but smith wouldn't part with the pudding with raisins in it. we filled it in-a snake nohow. so finally they fixed up a deal wash basin full of it-on top of a few inci- so smith could go along with the show. they dental pounds of chile con, baked beans, soda shoved clarence in a box in the baggage-car, biscuits, air-tights but after a while and other delica- mr. snake gets $o cies. then we ad- lonesome he gnaws journed with our out and starts to pipes to the shady crawl back to find side of the black- his master. just smith's shop where as he is half-way we could watch the between the bag- ravens on top the gage - car and the adobe wall of the smoker, the coup- corral. somebody lin' give way told a story about right on that heavy ravens. this led to grade between road-runners. custer and rocky this suggested rat- point. well, sir, tlesnakes. they clarence wound started windy bill. his head round one "speakin' of brake wheel and snakes,'' said "speakin' of snakes," said windy. his tail around the windy, "i mind other and held that when they catched the great granddaddy of train together to the bottom of the grade. but all the bull snakes up at lead in the black it stretched him twenty-eight feet and they hills. i was only a kid then. this wasn't had to advertise him as a boa-constrictor." no such tur'ble long a snake, but he was windy bill's history of the faithful bull more'n a foot thick. looked just like a snake aroused to reminiscence the grizzled sahuaro stalk. man name of terwilliger stranger, who thereupon held forth as follows: the honk-honk breed wall, i've see things and i've heerd things, human race for one year was to be collected some of them ornery, and some you'd love to and subjected to hydraulic pressure it would believe, they was that gorgeous and improb- equal in size the pyramid of cheops?” able. nat'ral history was always my hobby “look yere,” says i, sittin' up. “did you and sportin' events my special pleasure—and ever pause to excogitate that if all the hot air this yarn of windy's reminds me of the only you're dispensin’ was to be collected together, chanst i ever had to ring in business and it would fill a balloon big enough to waft you pleasure and hobby all in one grand merry- and me over that bullyvard of palms to go-round of joy. it come about like this: yonder gin mill on the corner?” one day a few year back i was sittin' on the he didn't say nothin' to that,just yanked beach at santa barbara watchin' the sky stay me to my feet, faced me toward the gin mill up and wonderin' what to do with my year's above mentioned, and exerted considerable wages, when a little squinch-eye, round-face pressure on my arm in urgin' of me forward. with big bow spectacles came and plumped “you ain't so much of a dreamer, after all," down beside me. thinks i. “in important matters you are “did you ever stop to think,” says he, plumb decisive." v umbes tusky and me set around watchin' the playful critters chase grasshoppers. shovin' back his hat, “that if the horse-power delivered by them waves on this beach in one single hour could be concentrated behind washin' machines, it would be enough to wash all the shirts for a city of four hundred and fifty-one thousand, one hundred and thirty- six people?” "can't say i ever did,” says i, squintin' at him sideways. “fact,” says he, “and did it ever occur to you that if all the food a man eats in the course of a natural life could be gathered together at one time, it would fill a wagon train twelve miles long?" "you make me hungry,” says i. "and ain't it interestin' to reflect,” he goes on, “that if all the finger-nail parin's of the we sat down at a little table, and my friend ordered a beer and a chicken sandwich. “chickens,” says he, gazin' at the sand- wich, "is a dollar apiece in this country, and plumb scarce. did you ever pause to ponder over the return chickens would give on a small investment? say you start with ten hens. each hatches out thirteen aigs, of which allow a loss of say six for childish accidents. at the end of the year you has eighty chickens. at the end of two years that flock has in- creased to six hundrea and twenty. at the end of the third year- he had the medicine tongue! ten days later him and me was occupyin' of an old ranch fifty mile from anywhere. when they run stage coaches, this joint used to be a road- everybody's magazine house. the outlook was on about a thousand little brown foot-hills. a road two miles, four rods, two foot, eleven inches in sight run by in front of us. it come over one foot-hill and disappeared over another. i know just how long it was, for later in the game i measured it. out back was about a hundred little wire chicken corrals filled with chickens. we had two kinds. that was the doin's of tuscarora. my pardner called himself tuscarora max- illary. i asked him once if that was his real name. “it's the realest little old name you ever heerd tell of,” says he. “i know, for i made it myself—liked the sound of her. parents ain't got no rights to name their children. parents don't have to be called them names.” well, these chickens, as i said, was of two kinds. the first was these low-set heavy- weight propositions with feathers on their laigs, and not much laigs at that, called co- chin chinys. the other was a tall, ridiculous outfit made up entire of bulgin' breast and gangle laig. they stood about two foot and a half tall, and when .they went to peck the ground their tail feathers stuck straight up to the sky. tusky called 'em japanese games. “which the chief advantage of them chickens is,” says he, “that in weight about ninety per cent. of 'em is breast meat. now my idee is, that if we can cross 'em with these cochin chiny fowls, we'll have a low-hung, heavy-weight chicken runnin' strong on breast meat. these jap games is too small, but if we can bring 'em up in size and shorten their laigs, we'll shore have a winner.” that looked good to me; so we started in on that idee. the theery was bully; but she didn't work out. the first broods we hatched growed up with big husky cochin chiny bodies and little short necks, perched up on laigs three foot long. them chickens couldn't reach ground nohow. we had to build a table for 'em to eat off, and when they went out rustlin' for themselves they had to con- fine themselves to hill-sides or flyin' insects. their breasts was all right, though—"and think of them drumsticks for the boardin’- house trade!” says tusky. so far things wasn't so bad. we had a good grub-stake. tusky and me used to feed them chickens twict a day, and then set around watchin' the playful critters chase grasshoppers up an' down the wire corrals, while tusky figgered out what'd happen if somebody was dumfool enough to gather up all the grasshoppers in the world, and find out how many baskets they'd fill. that's about as near's we come to solving the chicken problem. one day in the spring i hitched up, rustled a dozen of the youngsters into coops and druv over to the railroad to make our first sale. i couldn't fold them chickens up into them coops at first, but then i stuck the coops up on aidge and they worked all right, though i will admit they was a comical sight. at the railroad one of them towerist trains had just slowed down to a halt as i come up, and the towerists was paradin' up and down, allowin' " clarence held that train together, but it stretched him twenty-eight feet." the honk-honk breed they was particular enjoyin' of the warm californy sunshine. one old terrapin with gray chin whiskers projected over with his wife and took a peek through the slats of my coop. he straightened up like some one had touched him off with a red-hot poker. “stranger," said he, in a scared kind of whisper, “what's them?” “them's chickens," says i. he took another long look. “marthy," says he to the old woman, “this will be about all! we come out from ioway to see the wonders of californy, but i can't go nothin' stronger than this. if these is chickens, i don't want to see no big trees." well, i sold them chickens all right for a dollar and two bits, which was better than i expected, and got an order for more. about ten days later i got a letter from the com- mission house. i rustled greasewood. we is returnin' a sample of your arts and crafts chickens with the lovin' marks of the teeth instinct like the love of a mother for her young still onto them. don't send any more till they stops and it can't be era dicated! them chickens pursuin' of the nimble grasshopper. dentist bill will is constructed by a divine providence for the foller. express purpose of chasin' grasshoppers, just with the letter came the remains of one of as the beaver is made for buildin' dams and the chickens. tusky and i, very indignant, the cow-puncher is made for whisky and faro- cooked her for supper. she was tough, all games. we can't keep 'em from it. if we right. we thought she might do better biled, was to shut 'em in a dark cellar, they'd flop so we put her in the pot overnight. nary after imaginary grasshoppers in their dreams, bit. well, then we got interested. tusky and die emaciated in the midst of plenty. kep’ the fire goin' and i rustled greasewood. jimmy, we're up agin the cosmos, the over- we cooked her three days and three nights. soul—" oh, he had the medicine tongue, at the end of that time she was sort of pale tusky had, and risin' on the wings of elo- and frazzled, but still givin' points to three- quence that way he had me faded in ten year old jerky on cohesion and other uncom minutes. in fifteen i was wedded solid to the promisin' forces of nature. we buried her notion that the bottom had dropped out of the then, and went out back to recuperate. chicken business. i think now that if we'd there we could gaze on the smilin' land- shut them hens up, we might have-still, i scape dotted by about four hundred long- don't know; they was a good deal in what laigged chickens swoopin' here and there after tusky said. grasshoppers. “tuscarora maxillary," says i, “did you . “we got to stop that,” says i. ever stop to entertain that beautiful thought -“we can't,” murmured tusky, inspired. that if all the dumfoolishness possessed now we can't. it's born in 'em; it's a primal by the human race could be gathered to- gether and lined up alongside of us, the first borice feller to come along would say to it, “why, hello solomon!'" we quit the notion of chickens for profit right then and there; but we couldn't quit the place. we hadn't much money, for one thing; and then we kind of liked loafin' around and raisin' a little garden truck, and- oh, well, i might as well say it; we had a notion about placers in the dry wash back of the house—you know how it is. so we stayed on, and kept a-raisin' these long-laigs for the everybody's magazine mivo it was a purty sight to see 'em sailin' in from all directions. it had growed up from the soil like a toad- stool.” fun of it. i used to like to watch 'em pro- jectin' around, and i fed 'em twict a day about as usual. so tusky and i lived alone there together, happy as ducks in arizona. about onct in a month somebody'd pike along the road. she wasn't much of a road; generally more chuck- holes than bumps, though sometimes it was the other way around. unless it happened to be a man on horseback or maybe a freighter without the fear of god in his soul, we didn't have no words with them; they was too busy cussin' the highways and generally too mad for social discourses. one day early in the year, when the 'dobe mud made ruts to add to the bumps, one of them automobеels went past. it was the first tusky and me had seen in them parts, so we run out to view her. owin' to the high spots on the road she looked like one of these movin' picters as to blur and wabble; sounded like a cyclone mingled with cuss-words; and smelt like hell on house- cleanin' day. “which them folks don't seem to be en- joyin' of the scenery," says i to tusky. “do you reckon that there blue trail is smoke from the machine or re- marks from the inhabit- ants thereof?” tusky raised his head and sniffed long and inquirin'. "it's langwidge,” says he. “did you ever stop to think that all the words in the dic- tionary hitched end to end would reach----" but at that minute i catched sight of sor e- thin' brass lyin' in the road. it proved to be a curled-up sort of horn with a rubber bulb on the end. i squoze the bulb, and jumped twenty foot over the remark she made. "jarred off the machine," says tusky. "oh, did it?” says i, my nerves still wrong. “i thought maybe about this time we abolished the wire chicken corrals because we needed some of the wire. them long-laigs thereupon scat- tered all over the flat searchin' out their prey. when feed-time come i had to screech my lungs out gettin' of 'em in; and then some- times they didn't all hear. it was plumb dis- couragin', and i mighty nigh made up my, mind to quit 'em; but they had come to be sort of pets, and i hated to turn 'em down. it used to tickle tusky almost to death to see me out there hollerin' away like an old bull- frog. he used to come out reg'lar, with his pipe lit, just to enjoy me. finally i got mad and opened up on him. “oh,” he explains, “it just plumb amuses me to see the dumfool at his childish work. why don't you teach 'em to come to that brass. horn, and save your voice?” “tusky," says i, with feelin', “sometimes you do seem to get a glimmer of real sense." w ell, first off them chickens used to throw back-somersets over that horn. you have no idee how slow chickens is to learn things. i could tell you things about chickens-say, this yere bluff about roosters bein'gallant is all wrong. i've watched 'em. when one finds. a nice feed he gobbles it so fast that the pieces foller down his throat like yearlin's through a hole in the fence. it's only when he scratches up a measly one-grain quick-lunch that he calls up the hens and stands noble and self-sacrificin' to one side. but that ain't the wany nous, the honk-honk breed point; which is, that after two months i had them long-laigs so they'd drop everythin' and come kitin' at the honk-honk of that horn. it was a purty sight to see 'em, sailin' in from all direction's twenty foot at a stride. i was proud of 'em, and named 'em the honk-honk breed. we didn't have no others, for by now the coyotes and bob-cats had nailed the straight-breeds. there wasn't no wild cat or coyote could catch one of my honk-honks; no sir! we made a little on our placer; just enough to keep interested. then the supervisors decided to fix our road; and what's more, they done it! that's the only part of this yarn that's hard to believe; but, boys, you'll have to take it on faith. they plowed her, and nearer. then over the hill come an auto- mobeel, blowin' vigorous at every jump. “great blazes!” i yells to tusky, kickin' over my chair as i springs to my feet. “stop 'em! stop 'em!” but it was too late. out the gate sprinted them poor devoted chickens, and up the road they trailed in vain pursuit. the last we seen of 'em was a minglin' of dust and dim figgers goin' thirty mile an hour after a dis- appearin' automobeel. that was all we seen for the moment. about three o'clock the first straggler came limpin' in, his wings hangin', his mouth open, his eyes glazed with the heat. by sundown fourteen had returned. all the rest had dis- appeared utter; we never seen 'em again. i sont i yells to tusky, "stop "em: stop 'em!" crowned her, and scraped her, and rolled her, and when they moved on we had the fanciest highway in the state of californy. that noon-the day they finished the job -tusky and i sat smokin' our pipes as per usual, when, 'way over the foot-hills we seen a cloud of dust and faint to our ears was bore a whizzin' sound. the chickens was gathered under the cottonwood for the heat of the day, but they didn't pay no attention. then faint but clear we heerd another of them brass horns: “honk! honk!” says it, and every one of them chickens woke up and stood at atten- tion. "honk! honk!” it hollered clearer and reckon they just naturally run themselves into a sunstroke and died on the road. it takes a long time to learn a chicken a thing, but a heap longer to unlearn him. after that two or three of these yere auto- mobeels went by every day, all a-blowin' of their horns, all kickin' up a hell of a dust; and every time them fourteen honk-honks of mine took along after 'em, just as i'd taught 'em to do, layin' to get to their corn when they caught up. no more of 'em died, but that fourteen did get into elegant trainin'. after a while they got to plumb enjoyin' it. when you come right down to it, a chicken don't have many amusements and relaxa- tions in this life. scratchin' for worms, st race to the force after the thing got kowed. we made money hand over fist. chasin' grasshoppers and wallerin' in the dust chines by chicken-power. some of them is about the limits of joys for chickens. used to come way up from los angeles just it was sure a fine sight to see 'em after they to try out a new car along our road with the got well into the game. about nine o'clock honk-honks for pacemakers. we charged every mornin' they would saunter down to the them a little somethin', and then, too, we rise of the road where they would wait patient opened up the road-house and the bar, so until a machine came along. then it would we did purty well. it wasn't necessary to warm your heart to see the enthusiasm of work any longer at that bogus placer. eve- 'em. with exultant cackles of joy they'd nin's we sat around outside and swapped trail in, reachin' out like quarter-hosses, their yarns and i bragged on my chickens. the wings half spread out, their eyes beamin' with chickens would gather round close to listen. delight. at the lower turn they'd quit. they liked to hear their praises sung all then after talkin' it over excited-like for a right. you bet they sabe! the only reason few minutes, they'd calm down and wait for a chicken or any other critter isn't intelli- another. gent is because he hasn't no chance to ex- after a few months of this sort of trainin' pand. they got purty good at it. i had one two why, we used to run races with 'em. some year-old rooster that made fifty-four mile an of us would hold two or more chickens back hour behind one of those sixty-horse power of a chalk line, and the starter'd blow the panhandles. when cars didn't come along horn from a hundred yards to a mile away, often enough, they'd all turn out and chase dependin' on whether it was a sprint or for jack-rabbits. they wasn't much fun at that distance. we had pools on the results, gave for 'em. after a short brief sprint the rabbit odds, made books, and kept records. after would crouch down plumb terrified, while the thing got knowed, we made money hand the honk-honks pulled off triumphal dances over fist. around his shrinkin' form. our ranch got to be purty well known them the stranger broke off abruptly and began days among automobeelists. the strength to roll a cigarette. of their engines was hoss-power, of course, “what did you quit it for, then?” ventured but they got to ratin' the speed of their ma- charley out of the hushed silence. the telegraph-poles “pride,” replied the stranger solemnly. grasshopper balls, race-meets, and afternoon “haughtiness of spirit.”. hen-parties. they got idle and haughty, just “how so?” urged charley after a pause. like folks. then come race suicide. they “them chickens,” continued the stranger got to feelin' so aristocratic the hens wouldn't after a moment, “stood around listenin' to me have no eggs.” a-braggin' of what superior fowls they was nobody dared say a word. until they got all puffed up. they wouldn't “windy bill's snake" began the narra- have nothin' whatever to do with the ordinary tor genially. chickens we brought in for eatin' purposes, “stranger," broke in windy bill with great but stood around lookin' bored when there emphasis, “as to that snake, i want you to wasn't no sport doin'. they got to be just understand this: yereafter in my estimation like that four hundred you read about in that snake is nothin' but an ornery angle- . the papers. it was one continual round of worm!” the telegraph-poles by witter bynner dale in the jostle of men, passed by the panic of souls, prophets are wandering again- see them?—the telegraph-poles! naked, prophetical trees, miles over field, over fen, swift beside rails to the seas, motionless move among men. chained a miraculous way, rounding the world in their flight- prophets of death in the day, warning of life in the night. sometimes the file on its march pauses with piteous look- threading a murmurous arch, touching a curious brook. sometimes a palpitant sound falls on the marshes—but now whispers of roots underground, mourns an invisible bough. birds, to renew weary wings, come as of old—but the wires never respond like the strings woven in greenly hung lyres. “strip all the leafage from life- so let its profit increase! then, when you turn from the strife, where is the shadow of peace?” brain and body by william hanna thomson, m.d., ll.d. author of "brain and personality." physician to the roosevelt hospital; consulting physician to new york state manhattan hospitals for the insane; formerly professor of the practise of medicine and diseases of the nervous system, new york university medical college; ex-president of the new york academy of medicine, etc. the world for ages did not know that the upon these areas. take for instance the great brain had anything special to do, and faculty of speech, which is a generic and ex- least of all that it had everything to do with clusively human endowment, so directly con- the mind. on that account the brain is nected with thought that when a man thinks, never mentioned in the bible, and the great he can think only in words. now, after cer- physiologist and philosopher aristotle, when tain brain injuries, commonly attendant upon he carefully examined the brain, concluded apoplexy, a person may remain speechless for that its only business was to cool the blood the rest of his life, and the explanation of for the heart! every other important organ this was found to be that a very special re- of the body does something visible, either in gion of the brain had been physically ruined. its action or secretion; but the quiet brain a man was brought to bellevue hospital, has kept its greatest secrets so well, even wholly unable to speak a word, though he down to our own day, that most educated could hear words with his ears and read with people are still ignorant of the significant his eyes as well as ever. the story told by discoveries that recently have revealed its his friends was that in a drunken row a man particular connection with certain mental had poked the tip of an umbrella into his eye: operations. indeed, although galen, about but instead of seriously injuring that organ, a hundred and sixty years after christ, de- it had passed over the ball into his brain just monstrated that the brain is the bodily seat of where the uttering speech center lies, separated the conscious mind, yet so little advance was from the eye by only a very thin plate in the made for seventeen hundred years after him bony roof of the orbit. while i was describing that when i graduated in medicine none of his case to a large class at my clinic, he saw a the great teachers of the day was aware of student with an umbrella in his hand, and any specific relations of the human brain to pointing to it, he burst into tears. as far as processes of thought. they all taught that we could learn, he never recovered his speech. the brain in its relation to mind was one or- that the place injured in this and similar gan, acting as a unit in all mental operations, instances was the sole seat of spoken language just as the lungs, in which each air-cell does was proved by the fact that not only did in- what all the other air-cells do. hence, it was jury there invariably abolish speech, in the the whole brain that saw, or heard, or felt, precise meaning of the word, but that a like or thought. injury elsewhere had no such effect, whatever one reason for this long delay was that other effect it might have. physiologists could experiment only with the to make this clear, we might liken the brains of animals, such as dogs or monkeys, brain to a great department store, supplied but not with the brain of man. it was re- with water - pipes distributed to different served for physicians to make the great dis- floors, each foor having its own kind of covery that some distinctly mental functions goods. now, if a pipe on one of the floors are absolutely dependent upon the physical happens to be too weak to resist the pressure integrity of particular areas of the brain sur- in it and, therefore, suddenly bursts, it may face. this they did by noting what might be flood and wholly spoil the stock, say, of wom- termed the experiments of disease or accident en's hats, while the rest of the store escapes. brain and body so, the integrity of all parts of the brain brain, as was the case with a patient of depends upon its supply of blood, which mine, a gentleman who one morning lost comes through its arteries at such a pres- not only all power of utterance, but also all sure that i have seen the blood spurt six ability to read. he could, however, hear feet from an artery in the arm when it was words perfectly and, strange to tell, he proved cut across. let the walls of an artery in the that the place for arithmetical figures is in brain become weakened in structure by poi- a different brain locality from that for words, soned blood from unsuspected chronic kidney because he could read and write figures and disease, and they may some time give way, calculate every kind of sum in large business and the gush of blood may tear up the sur- transactions, which he successfully conducted rounding delicate brain tissue with resulting for seven years afterward, without once being symptoms according to the special location able to speak a word or even to read his own of the accident in the brain. i have often signature. warned patients, after examining their arter- ies, of their liability to the terrible calamity of a "stroke,” and have urged the supreme word-shelves in our brains importance of its prevention. likewise, music notes are registered in a still the discovery of a special speech region different place, as is demonstrated by numer- in the brain was truly a great find, for it ous published instances of skilled musicians furnished a key for unlocking one chamber who suddenly lost all power to read music, after another of this mysterious physical or- though they could read everything else; while, gan of the mind. even as regards the fac- vice versa, others have been found who became ulty of speech itself, it was soon revealed that word blind, but still could read music notes. it had three separate anatomical seats in the still other facts that demonstrate the actual brain. one place is in the auditory region relations of the brain to the mind should be of the brain, where words coming to us mentioned, because they prepare us the better through the ear are registered; another place to understand the relations of the brain to is in the visual area, where words coming the body. disorders of speech, due to phys- through the eye in reading are registered; ical damage in the brain, show that words and by means of a third place, in the motor are there arranged somewhat like books on area, we utter words by the movements of library shelves. when a man, therefore, the muscles of the larynx, tongue, or lips. learns a new language, he has to provide a it was this center that was destroyed in the new shelf for its words. this is proved by case of the umbrella accident. the case, among many others like it, of a man who, besides his mother english, learned french, latin, and greek. he became power to read lost in a night word blind in english, but still could read how separate and distinct from this utter french, though with some mistakes, and ing center the brain place for reading is, wils latin with fewer mistakes than french, illustrated by a lady patient of mine who was while greek he could read perfectly-show- astonished one morning at finding that she ing that his english shelf was ruined, his could not read a word in anything, whether french shelf damaged, his latin shelf less newspaper or book. she thought something so, while his greek row escaped entirely. must be wrong with her eyes, but she saw other instances show that the books may everything about the room as well as ever and be so jammed sidewise, so to speak, that not could sew and knit. i tested her speech one of them can be got out, in which case the carefully, and found that she could hear event proves that on each shelf the verbs are every word addressed to her and could talk placed first, the pronouns next, then the remarkably well. her reading brain center, prepositions and adverbs, and the nouns last. however, had been destroyed in the night a man was brought to my clinic who could without her waking, by a plug in the little not utter a word. my diagnosis ascribed artery which supplies that place, and she his disability to a tumorlike swelling in the forthwith became as illiterate as a papuan speech area, which might be absorbed by sayage, nor did she learn to read again, suc- giving him iodide of potassium. i then cumbing to apoplexy two years afterward. had him removed so that he could not generally more than one speech center is hear what was said, while i told the class injured by an apoplectic hemorrhage in the that if he recovered he would very likely get everybody's magazine his verbs first and his nouns last. when he college who did not discover until his sixth returned two weeks afterward, on my show- lecture that the brain which he had been ing him a knife he said, “you cut”; a pencil, demonstrating to the class was the brain of “you write," etc. three weeks later he had an ape and not of a man. but the chief all his prepositions, but he could name no reason that science now has for hesitation is noun for several weeks afterward. the rea- the recent discoveries which show that the sons are that verbs are our innermost and brain is not the source of thought, but is first learned words, because we know that we purely the instrument of the thinker, just as see, we hear, etc., before we know what it is the violin is the instrument of the musician that we see or hear; while nouns represent who plays it, and by itself cannot give forth things outside of us, to which we later give a single note of violin music. names. the nouns that we learn last, and the first approach to this conclusion came therefore forget soonest, are the names of through the comparative weighing of various persons; that is why elderly people are ever brains. some of the heaviest and largest complaining that they cannot recall names. healthy brains on record were found post mortem in paupers, who during life had only the minds of paupers, while an examination how man differs from the ape of the brain of von helmholtz, perhaps of all now, facts like these are much more than our age in europe the man most eminent for curious or interesting, because they really intellect, showed that it was a full tenth lead to the answer of the great question, what below the average weight of the adult male is man? zoologically, the animal homo is european brain. plainly, then, the mental closely allied to the other primates, as they capacity of an individual bears no necessary are called, the orang-outang, the gorilla, and relation to the amount of brain matter that the chimpanzee. he is thus allied in his he has in his head. body and all its organs, but particularly in but further and more decisive evidence on his brain, for huxley demonstrated that the this point is the fact that, strictly speaking, human brain does not contain a single lobe all of us use in thinking only one half of the nor convolution that is not present also in brain we have. for the fact is that the the brain of a chimpanzee." brain is a pair organ consisting of two per- but mentally, not anatomically, man is as fectly matched hemispheres, but only one of far removed from the highest apes as is a them becomes a human brain, that is, a brain fixed star from the earth. no chimpanzee with the special mental endowments that are could be taught to pass an examination in human, while the other remains thoughtless greek or english literature, nor to compute for life. indeed, cases have been reported a comet's orbit, nor make a bank-note, nor by eminent neurologists who had made post- argue as a free trader or as a calvinist mortem examinations, of persons who had but man can become anything, a scientist, lived for years after the destruction of one a scholar, a mathematician, an artist, a entire hemisphere, without showing any men- statesman, or what not. and above all, man tal defect. but in each case it was the is a true creator, by his own intelligent purpose thoughtless hemisphere that had been ruined. originating things that otherwise would not exist. that tremendous structure, the bridge over the firth of forth, for instance, existed one thoughtless brain in every head down to its smallest detail in the mind of now, if brain matter were itself the source its engineer before any part of it existed on or producer of thought, then the more brain earth. now, any one of these tests suffices matter we had, the more thought we should to prove that the difference is not one of de- have, just as two bushels of wheat will make gree, but of kind, and that man is an animal twice as much flour as one bushel. but not only physically. so as to brain and thought. as a man does science is now estopped from all attempts not see twice as far with his two eyes as with to explain the incalculable superiority of one eye, so his pair of brains does not dou- man's mind by his having an exceptional ble him mentally, because either hemisphere brain. we have mentioned that huxley (when taught) can do the whole business of showed that the difference between the human both, just as a man who has lost one eye can and the chimpanzee brain is too insignificant yet become an astronomer with the other. : to count, and i knew a teacher in a medical now, it is of great importance in our dis- brain and body prefrom area head and eyes sensibility cutaneous muscular ?) word scr utm slips thr otons cussion to consider why it is that we use brain matter is like the wax leaves of a only one of our two brains to think with. phonograph. suppose that you have two when we come into this world we have a phonographs with the leaves all ready. one pair of quite thoughtless brains and nothing has been prepared with an impress of sounds more. to become intelligent beings, we upon the wax; the other is blank. now, must acquire a whole host of mental faculties should the talking phonograph be smashed and endowments, not one of which does a by an accident, the crank of the other might human being bring with him at birth. no be turned never so vigorously but not one one was ever born speaking english nor any word would come out of its brazen throat, other language. no newly born babe knows the reason being that this instrument never anything by sight nor by any other sense. imprints words nor anything else on its leaves every kind of knowledge has to be gained by of its own accord. and so this man tried his personal education. but only recently have best to get his right broca to talk, but as he we found that this education necessitates the had never taught his right hemisphere, he creation of a local anatomical change in brain could not now find a word there. besides, matter to make it the special seat for that the difference between phonograph leaves and “accomplishment.” thus, no one can be- brain layers is that the latter, as we shall see, come a skilled violin player until by long fash- need unwearied talking at by the month or ioning he has at last made a violin- playing place in his cerebrum. but all this brain fashioning takes so much time and trouble that for mere economy of labor, as one hemi- sphere will do all that is necessary, the individual spends his efforts on one of them only. as both hemi- spheres are equally good for this pur- pose, which of the two he will educate depends on which one he begins with. this is settled for him when as a child he begins all his training by the hand that he then most easily uses. hence it is that all the speech centers and all the knowing and educated places are to be found only in the left hemisphere of the right-handed, year before words can be imprinted on them and in the right hemisphere of the left so that they will stay. handed. it is by gesture that the child first t he accompanying plate is given to repre- tries to communicate with others, and gesture sent the left cerebral hemisphere of a right- language remains an important accompani- handed man, and the first things to note are ment of speech throughout life. now it hap- the locations of the brain places whose func- pens that the motor centers in the brain that tions are congenital, that is, those that are move the hand are in proximity to the centers born with the individual. such centers are that move the muscles of the face, lips, and found equally in both hemispheres. take, tongue, and so movements of lips and tongue for example, the function of sight. the eye soon are added to gestures to utter sounds that itself no more sees than an opera-glass sees. the human child learns as words. speech instead, the image formed on the retina is centers once formed, thought centers have to conveyed along the fibers of the optic nerves follow, and lastly knowing centers. to those two convolutions in the posterior now consider again the case of the man lobes of both hemispheres marked cuneus; whose speech-uttering center was destroyed and it is in those two collections of gray matter by the tip of an umbrella. this brain place that all seeing is done; when this convolution was his left broca's convolution. but since is destroyed in both hemispheres, total blind- he had a broca's convolution in his right ness results, though the two eyes and all their hemisphere, and neither the umbrella nor nervous connections be intact. likewise in anything else had injured that, why could the auditory area is the center for hearing, he not talk with it? the explanation is that destruction of which in both hemispheres word cunews auditory area tearing object seeing oulut earino visual arean music hearing everybody's magazine causes deafness, though everything connected other place in the auditory area has the with both ears is uninjured. the brain cen- wider duty to perform of recognizing what ters for smell, taste, and touch lie under different sounds mean. let that be dam- neath and on the inner face of the hemisphere, aged, and all sounds become alike noises and so that they do not appear on the plate. nothing more to the man, so that he cannot one region, however, on the surface in front distinguish the sound of a dinner-bell from of the visual area is a meeting-ground of that of a lowing cow. just the same with various kinds of common sensation. then the sight center; in the visual area the con- comes a very important tract constituting a volution called the angular gyrus knows what zone lying near the middle of the cortical letters and words mean when it sees them, surface, whose function is motor, that is, its and, therefore, it alone can read; and the centers govern and direct those muscular place near the cuneus knows objects in gen- movements of the body that are in response eral by sight; when it is damaged no per- to commands of the will. the nerve fibers son can be recognized by sight, nor can that proceeding from these brain centers cross ignorance of what the eyes report be in the over in their course to the opposite side, so least helped by the same convolution in the that it is the left hemisphere motor centers other hemisphere, though it be uninjured. that govern the muscles of the right, and the why, therefore, do we have two brains right hemisphere centers that govern those when the mind needs only one? this ques- of the left side of the body. tion might be asked about any of our pair organs. i know a man who lived a long why we have an extra brain time without once suspecting that he had only one kidney that would work, the other i have gone into this description of the kidney having been destroyed thirteen years congenital functions of both the brain hemi- before by a stone plugging its outlet tube. spheres, because i am often asked, if one likewise an eminent financier lived for forty hemisphere is not used for thought, then of of his years with virtually but one lung doing what use is it? it is of every use in the business. so we have an extra brain which, working of the bodily machine, as far as if the individual is yet young, and his brain feeling or motion is concerned. paralysis matter therefore still teachable, will learn and numbness, or loss of sensation, of the everything after its fellow which was first left side of the body are serious misfortunes taught has been irreparably damaged. thus, to a right-handed man, though he still can cases have often been reported of children talk and think as well as ever. who suffered paralysis with destruction of now we come to what, without any mis- the speech centers, but who in a year had take, we find in an adult's brain-the marvel- taught the speech centers in the other brain ous additions of brain places which can do to talk as well as those first educated. so much more than the congenital centers could. around each of the congenital cen- ters, but in only one of the two hemispheres, ambidexterity? are wholly new centers, each with its own knowing specialty. a remarkable group of i have received numerous letters, among those, for example, is found around the them three from college professors of psy- original center for hearing. one of these- chology, asking why these facts, which we and a divine center it is—knows what music have been reviewing, do not constitute an is when it hears it, and this center may all of argument for teaching children ambidexterity, a sudden be put out of commission. thus so that they will use both their brains instead lichtheim reports the case of a teacher and of only one. these questions seem to imply journalist who after a second stroke of apo- that it would be a great gain mentally if we plexy heard plainly enough when any one thought with both hemispheres. we might sang or whistled, but he did not recognize as well expect that our visual power would the melodies and he was particularly annoyed be increased by using both eyes, or our hear- at concert - singing by his children, because ing by always listening with both ears. the it was "so noisy.” another center is for implication of such questions seems to be hearing words and, as we have seen, a man that the more brain matter is exercised, the may waken some morning and find that he more ideas we shall have. but since brain has become word deaf overnight. but an- matter does not itself originate a single idea, shall we teach children · brain and body nature had better not be meddled with. i made to acquire a mental faculty according know of a left-handed girl who had that hand to the purpose of this unmistakable creator. tied to make her right-handed. the result there is no word about which the fogs was that her speech centers seemed to become of metaphysics have gathered so thickly as confused in their education, so that she did about this word “will.” it is these misty not speak as plainly at six years of age as did conceptions that make it difficult for many an elder sister, no brighter mentally, when minds to accept the facts which prove that eighteen months old. ambidexterity is doubt a purely spiritual agency such as they imag- less a convenience, especially at a billiard- ine the will to be, could cause any definite table, but it confers no intellectual advantage. material effects. a perfectly material thing, like a brain speech center, which can be de- stroyed by a pointed stick, must somehow, how we make new brain centers they think, be made by the brain itself, though finally, the important question remains, if how any other part of the brain can make a the human individual starts just like the chim- mechanism for words, without itself giving a panzee, with those congenital brain equip- sign of having a word in it, is hard to un- ments, both sensory and motor, that have derstand. been described above, and then creates those but there are definite proofs that the will is a different places in one hemisphere that are specific and positive stimulus to nervous mat- endowed with such transcendent mental fac- ter, which are made plain when we learn ulties, how does he do it? this perform- what a specific nerve stimulus is. a ray of ance is best illustrated by the example of a light, for instance, is a specific stimulus to the young man, not a child, concluding to learn nerve cells of the retina, because no other to speak and to read a language new to him. nerve cells or fibers, except those mentioned, in the first place, he must do it all himself. are affected by it. now we can show that no foreigner can learn german by proxy; the will is a definite thing by just the same nor can he do so by any purely mental proc- proofs which demonstrate that the actinic ray esses, such as by imagining, or thinking, or in a sunbeam is a definite thing, namely, by reasoning. instead, he must hammer away its effects. though we cannot see either the at the task, until after months upon months actinic ray nor the will, both these agents of continuous repetition the new words be- produce three specific kinds of effects, phys- come imprinted upon a new cell layer in his ical, chemical, and physiological. speech area, so that they will stay there and be of use when he wants them. but the task nerve matter turned to fat by will is grievous and calls for a great amount not of mental, but of will power. first, as to the actinic ray. to experiment so irksome is this will-making of brain with it, we must first isolate it from the other centers that many give the undertaking up rays in a sunbeam. this we can readily do before the desired object is half attained, by means of a glass prism, which gives us a leaving the unfinished brain center as useless long spectrum of bands of red below and the for its own purpose as a wagon left unfinished other colors in their order, till they end in a because its wheels proved more troublesome violet band above. now, take a glass vial to make than all the rest of it. no excellence filled with a mixture of chlorine and of hy- without labor, we now perceive, means no ex- drogen gases; you may pass the vial up from celling brain without labor, though of course one color band to another, and nothing will there are differences in the fineness of brains happen until just above the violet the vial as instruments, just as there are differences will explode, with the physical result of shat- in violins. tering the glass. the chemical working of this invisible ray is seen in photography; rutherford by the actinic ray took fine photo- ? the will a definite thing graphs of the moon in the dark. the physi- we are now face to face with the great ex- ological effects were shown by an experiment ecutive in man, which is not the mind, but a of lubbock's with ants. he constructed a power higher in rank than the mind, namely, series of little chambers, with glass roofs the personal human will. like clay in the through which the prism-separated colored hands of the potter, so is brain matter fash- bands of light were made to fall on the ants. ioned by the will, bit by bit, each small area they seemed indifferent until the actinic everybody's magazine ray was turned on them, when they im- office is to restrain and to check the workings mediately bolted into the other chambers. of other nervous structures or functions. now the will can produce the physical thus the heart is kept in check by an im- effects of wasting a muscle to shreds, but i portant nerve; if this is cut, the heart bounds must be what is called a voluntary, or will- off to most tumultuous beating, like a horse worked, muscle. such muscles are those that has thrown its rider. physiologists, that are attached by one or by both ends to a therefore, call this nerve the heart's bridle. bone or to a cartilage. all such muscles are likewise, it is the business of all the higher worked by one or more motor nerves, and if nerve-centers to control and to regulate those these nerves are cut, forthwith the muscle is below them in rank. the powerful centers paralyzed and rapidly atrophies. but both in the spinal cord would rack us to pieces the motor nerve and the muscle may be but for their being checked by the brain ruined by the will's simply overstimulating above, and they actually do so when the them. now the only difference between the poisons of strychnia or of tetanus overcome will stimulus and other nerve stimuli is that the restraint of the brain. the latter come from outside the brain, as a ray of light may come from arcturus or why men fail sirius, while a will stimulus comes only from inside; and yet it is so specific that it may be but nowhere is restraint and direction so focused on only the small spot in the brain- needful as when the mind is thinking. motor region which orders the right thumb thoughts pour into the mind from every and forefinger to hold a pen. if the will direction, and the faster the weaker we hap- does not let up on this order enough to allow pen to be. let a man be prostrated by the nerve and muscles to rest from its stim- a fever and he finds it hard to keep his ulation, we then have a case of writer's or thoughts from running to the ends of the bookkeeper's palsy, in which the thumb and earth, until he may actually “wander" in forefinger hang limp and permanently par- delirium. in ordinary life desultory thoughts alyzed. these effects are the same as those are not only of no use, but may be as inju- produced by other nerve stimuli. rious as they are worthless. when, as in the first effect of such stimulation is to worry, they are of a disturbing nature, they cause the nerve cell to swell by absorption may jar the mental machine till it wears out of lymph, but as it becomes fatigued the by its own friction. the paramount need, cell shrinks, its nucleus becomes displaced, therefore, is for some great steadying gover- and at last the whole cell becomes disorgan- nor, as that part of a steam-engine is well ized into dead stuff. the chemical results named; or, in other words, we need a will of this degeneration have been studied and too strong to be diverted by any thoughts reported to be a change from the normal from its purpose. anyone who thinks, protagon with its phosphoreted fat into cho speaks, and acts only according to purpose, line and a neutral and non-phosphoreted fat. is a giant among scatterbrains, because it is so, in the case of writer's “palsy,” the will the will only that achieves. we are ever has ended its activity by turning precious meeting men with brilliant mental gifts who nerve matter into poor neutral fat, this fat are sad failures merely because they lack. being no more a thing of metaphysics than tenacity of purpose, which means lack of will- is a tallow candle. power. to exert influence over his fellows, a man must have a constant inner power of self-control, while he who goes about “half- the mind's bridle cocked” shoots and brings down himself but the will does much more than bring oftener than any one else. about such changes; for its right is to rule the as the best statement of what one really mind in its thinking, just as the mind in turn amounts to, and also of what one most needs rules the body; in other words, the will should in this risky world, we would quote from that not only direct but control thought. this is old hebrew collection, the book of proverbs: but in keeping with the great law of organi- “as a man thinketh, so is he," and "he zation of a nervous system, where we con- who hath no rule over his own spirit is like stantly meet with structures whose particular a city that is broken down and without walls." copyrighi, , by the jamestown official photograph corporation, the main auditorium and educational building. three hundred years ago by eugene wood author of " back home" illustrated with photographs made especially for “everybody's magazine" by clarence h. white three hundred years ago to- some guess as to what became of day (provided you pay me her and the others. at about the the appreciated compliment of same time as the settlement at reading this article the first chance jamestown, another colony land- you get) the ships that brought ed at the mouth of the kennebec them over sailed for home, and the river in maine. finding no gold hundred and five original james- and silver (oddly enough) but re- town settlers watched them swim, markably hard sledding, they took like swans with outspread wings, the next boat home, where they beyond their vision, and then—with what proclaimed it loudly that the situation in heart-throbs who can tell?—turned to the grim maine was practical prohibition. the james- realization that they were in for it. town settlers experienced a frost, too, for the this was the third try the englishry had latitude had fooled them into supposing they made for footing in north america. of were in the semi-tropics, a belief they laid aside raleigh's attempt nothing remains but the after the winter of - —a record-breaker euphonious name—virginia dare—of the first for low temperatures and high winds, which white child born in this country, and the grue- went a-whooping through their pole shanties. everybody's magazine the topic of hard, tight frosts naturally got tired of squabbling as to whether a brings up that of expositions in general. the grandson's nephew was more entitled to the question is sometimes asked: why celebrate throne than a second cousin's husband's half- the recollection of a great event, like the settle brother, and had newly lighted on the dis- ment of jamestown, with raised hotel-rates covery that it was possible to get more out of and lowered accommodations; with stuffing the magician's bag of industry than had been prospectors' pockets full of price-lists and ad put into it. they wanted a hack at the orien- vertising circulars; with roller-coasters and tal trade. the confounded turks had shut flying-horses, popcorn balls and hot frank- off the overland route to the orient; the por- fürters; with sideshow barkers and their tuguese had a quit-claim deed, signed, sealed, staccato raps of canes on door-posts, their and delivered, to the route around south cheerful cries of: “right this way, good peo- africa, and the spaniards had another deed ple all! loosen up, loosen up. aw, spend to all the rest of the world. there was a a nickel, can't youse?” why, it is inquired, straightaway passage to the indies and ci- join history to huckstering, clio to coney pango beyond a doubt, if only somebody island? would stir around and find it. why, land the answer is not simple, but it is very easy: of love! look at the map. all you had to we can't think of any other way to do. do was to sail and sail and get there. so the when i say “we,” i mean the folks who hundred and five set forth. run things for us. were they preachers, ex- now, it must not be thought that these ex- positions would be one string of sermons all peditioners were a bit like the bold brave fel- through the pleasant weather, from frost to lows who swarmed over the mountains into the frost; lawyers, a series of discourses on the dark and bloody ground, and thence on to applicability of the laws of james the first to ohio, indiana, and illinois. nor were they trolley-road franchises; baseball cranks, a like those others, just as bold and brave, who series of games with a crossed the great score of to in the american desert after first half of the ninth ' . these last were inning; musicians, a gold - seekers, like the succession of chords of jamestown bunch, it the diminished second, is true, but they were à la richard strauss- more than that; they and so on and so on. were home-seekers, and you can imagine the home - builders, utterly expositions devised by shameless in the matter each occupation and of manual labor, and caste. but they who not at all concerned run things for us are with social status. i'll men of affairs, whose have you know the formula of life is: jamestown settlers m cm+m. that were no such common is to say, their cycle of trash. indeed no! they activity is, putting out were men who thought money for commodi- some pumpkins of ties with the intent to looking into the garden themselves, to whom it of the ohio building. put out those com- was the cruelest of mis- modities for the orig- fortunes to be obliged inal money plus more for the welfare of the money (m.). and so on interminably. since enterprise to associate with dreadful bound- such as these bear the scepter of sovereignty, ers, “whose company in england they would what other process of celebrating the old folks' think scorn to have their servants of." golden wedding is conceivable than auctioning they had sooner die than work; they didn't off the bar-privileges ? on festival occasions know how to hunt; the rules of the corpora- everything and everybody should be trimmed, tion forbade their planting, though captain if possible. john smith seems to have overridden the about the time the jamestown expedition prohibition. they were expected to main- started out, the home folks in england had tain themselves and pile up dividends by copyright, , by the jamestown official pho- tograph corporation. copyright, , by the jamestown official photograph corporation. the pennsylvania state building (independence hall). force and barter; by force against an over- -scotch tribal organization being exactly like whelming number of savages far superior to indian tribal organization, or roman or greek themselves in war-craft and strategy, inferior or australian or hawaiian or that of any only in arms and armor; by barter with a people at a corresponding period of savagery. people who had no need of trade, and hadn't after the old gentleman died, they learned anything to swap except provisions, grown that his name was wahunsunakok. and and prepared by their only servile class, the matoaca was the name of her we know as women, the men folks among the indians pocahontas, a pleasant nickname that means being something in the gentry line themselves. "little wanton," or as we should most likely only, there were no grades among them, one say; "skeezicks." what you were called male indian being as much entitled to loaf as was one thing, your name another, which it any other, and old powhatan himself holding was a foolish thing for you to tell. somebody his job only so long as he gave satisfaction. might set to work at "mental malpractise,” and by the way, that wasn't his name but his and you'd take sick and die. after the poor tribe's, just as rob roy was the macgregor girl blabbed her name and pined away, the everybody's magazine zine e try to tell you the story of the original james- town settlers. it's too mixed up, too long, and i don't think it's very pretty. there is a whole lot nicer read- ing to be had than narrations of how they rowed and jowered among themselves, how they tried to kill captain john smith, the only man that kept them going, the only man equal to the sit- uation. this smith had annoying ways of bringing back his ex- ploring parties fat and copyright, . by the jamestown official photograph corporation. hearty and happy, the ohio state building. while those who stayed in jamestown and conducted the daily trials for treason and conspiracy were thin indians who heard the news pursed up their and quarrelsome about who hid the two lips and nodded: “a-ha! what'd i tell you? bottles of “sallet oyle,” where, and by what never knew it to fail.” right. he was smart enough to save his scalp oh, yes, they had their troubles, these and theirs from the powhatans—yes, that's settlers. listen to this: they were in the all well enough, but don't you see? by his country of the paspeheghs, who never did demagogy he got a crowd with him that quite take to them. every once in a while some settler, thinking about something else, would holler “ouch!” and fall over with a clat- ter. when the others ran up to see what ailed him they would find an arrow sticking in him. stung again! so an- noying. really, some one ought to write to the times about it. and finally, old pow- hatan (accent on the "tan”) sent word to them: “for pity's sakes, mow down the tall weeds around your fort!” he must have copyright, , by the jamestown official l'hotograpii corporation. thought they didn't have the gumption they old church tower on jamestown island. were born with. but i'm not going to three hundred years ago thought he was all right, and so prevented him piece of agricultural machinery whose rich from being hanged, although he was thirteen red rust imparted just the touch of color weeks under indictment. and so on. but needed by the gray and dripping day. we'll let it go at this. furthermore, jamestown isn't very gay. its tendency is to make a person think, and everybody wants to avoid that if he can. there is a lesson in these scanty ruins, and the jamestown exposition is not on the everybody "cuts” lessons at the earliest op- original site. hotel accommodations on the portunity. the church tower, surrounded copyright, , by the jamestown official photograph corporation, virginia building. maryland building. island (it is an island now) are quite in- by a high wire fence and flower beds, has been adequate. the secular structures there are neatly plastered with cement, and a new brick a two-story frame cottage for the man in church is being built upon as much of the charge, and an extra large-sized packing-box ancient foundations as the architect, in his provided with a door and a window, where, in zeal, has not had torn down and cast upon the his capacity of postmaster, the man in charge dump. this is no structure known to the puts in a good part of the day scratching out early colonists. what they built was but the *jamestown” and writing in “norfolk” on flimsiest shelter of green lumber, long ago the letters addressed: “jamestown exposi- dissolved into the earth from which it sprang. tion, jamestown, virginia.” by what is the tombs about are also of later date, for the known as “comity,” the postmaster at nor- original implantations died much faster than folk forwards him all such letters to help him tombstones could be got, only thirty-eight out pass away the time. of the original outlasting the first eight and i don't think an exposition crowd months. in nineteen years, out of , the could get board and room in the neighborhood. mortality was , . three thieves under riding out from williamsburg, the nearest sentence of death in london in had their town, eight miles away, i counted five houses, choice of hanging or going to virginia; one of exclusive of the barn situated alongside a them preferred being choked to death. everybody's magazine machinery some earnest-minded persons scold and ness, and fight for markets, not for the royal fume because the tercentennial is less an succession. barter employs force to run its exhibition of how skilled we are in bringing errands and carry in the coal. three hundred forth with the least possible trouble things years ago to-day barter was just getting the to eat and wear and make us comfortable upper hand. i guess we pretty nearly all can mentally and physically, than of new and im- make a guess as to who'll have the upper proved devices for blowing men into hamburg hand three hundred years from to-day. steaks and splattering them over the land so i should say it would be all right to have scape, or for sinking ships so suddenly that war-ships thicker than leaves on a tree out on stokers and coal-passers cannot hope to have a that patch of water that looks like any other chance to swim for it. i won't go so far as to water but really ought to have a maltese cross apply to such the offensive epithet of “molly- on it, as in the newspaper illustrations, mark- coddles." it isn't my word anyhow. but i ing the spot where the monitor and the merri- will say this: there's such a thing as enough mac banged away at each other all one sunday of militarism, isn't there? well, how are morning, demonstrating that you can make armor so that a can- non-ball won't pierce it, thus necessitating a kind of cannon - ball that can pierce any armor, thus necessitat- ing a still better armor, thus necessitating a still better cannon- ball, thus-oh, what's the use? you know. as a result of the mer- rimac - monitor affair the war-ships of to-day are all hard-shelled so that no projectile can hurt them, and all are able to throw projec- tiles that can go through anything. great sight a war-ship is for anybody that likes to look at machinery. the whole inside of one is so chock-a-block with rig-a-ma-jigs that you have to go up on the gun-deck to sneeze. there isn't room for copyright, , by the jamestown official photograph corporation. that between decks, an entrance to the machinery building. and, besides, you might throw some of the mechanism out of kil- ter. nothing can be you going to find out when you've had enough more interesting than a fleet thus lying of anything unless you first find out when at anchor. when a new ship comes in, or you've had too much? be reasonable. the governor arrives, or the president or there's no occasion for alarm, no reason to some other personage under whose feet the suppose feudalism once licked by the bour- earth-crust sags a little, he's so important, geoisie is ever going to come into power again. they fire salutes. something grand! sounds all these dukes and counts, all these generals like kicking on the door of an empty room, and admirals are only the hired men of busi- only more so. you get kind of tired of it, three hundred years ago though, in the course of an hour or two. red flabby cheeks that everybody's there or and then it's wonderful to see the admirals otherwise accounted for, and the serious and captains and commanders and all such, business of war begins, holding guns this diked out in hats with feathers in them like a way and that way and t'other way. the lady's, go calling on each other. the bo’s'n's command i like the best is that one where he whistle squeals and pipes to sides, the ship's says: “ordarrr . . . hump!” and all the company lines up, and the marines (who are rifle-butts hit the turf together in just one soldiers engaged to shoot the sailors if they go thump. i like that because it shows you how on strike) present arms, and the drums ruffle, and why we conquer. thus are battles won. or, if there is a band, it strikes up: “hail and there's an antiquarian interest in to the chief who in tri-i-umph ad—” when these drills too. if captain john smith were the caller puts up his hand as much as to say: to rise out of his lost grave in old st. sepul- “oh, for the lord's sake, stop! i've heard chre's in london, he would be right at home. that till i'm sick of it.” it's a grand spectacle. with the exception that the soldiers carry rifles but perhaps you'd like to see the soldiers on instead of pikes and halbërds, and the officers the parade-ground. it is a beautiful piece of turf as even as a bil- liard-table, just for all the world like a battle- field. and the man with the white mus- tache and the red flab- by cheeks has 'em walk this direction a way, and then he has 'em walk that direction; he strings 'em out in a line and he bunches 'em up. and how beautifully they do it! why, the uniform rank k. of p. at home is nothing to them. nothing at all! see how stiff their necks are, and how their chests look as if they were blown up with a quill; how evenly they step together, and how their alinement is that of a typewriting ma- chine just back from copyright, , by the jamestown official photograph corporation, the repair shop! and looking toward the educational building, the colors proudly liberal arts building in foreground. waving in the sun, ac- couterments winking and twinkling, uni- forms so neat and clean and gay! that's omit one or two commands, it's the same old the way to do. be fair to the enemy. drill; he could do it as well as the fellow with give him a chance to spot you on the land- the white mustache. scape. but best of all is when the man iii with a sword, who cannot possibly walk in other than straight lines nor turn corners of about the most discouraging proposition, more or less than ninety degrees, informs it seems to me, is for a man named john the man with the white mustache and the smith to win an everlasting fame. there's everybody's magazine such a lot of smiths, and so many of them are christened john. that a hero should have some sort of honorific title is perhaps inevita- ble, but when you consider how cluttered up the records are with kings tabbed off by ro- four seas he labored, no hand is outstretched to receive sixpence for showing captain john smith's grave. and if there were sixpence in it, you can bet they'd find that grave. it was he who caused that section of the je copyright, , by the jamestown official photograph corporation. looking along commonwealth avenue, states exhibit in background. man numerals, and popes likewise; with dukes country where the dried codfish sheds its and earls and marquises and lords and counts subtle fragrance on the air to be called new and viscounts, barons and baronets; with gen- england. what we now call cape ann he erals and near-generals; admirals, rear and named cape tragabigzanda, after the young fore; bishops, arch and plane; judges, presi- woman who softened his lot for him when dents, and governors, and all the hierarchy of he was taken prisoner by the turks. the big-bugs that swell up in huffiness if you islands near he called the turks' heads, omit to tip your hat to them or to send them in memory of his exploits when in single com- free tickets to the best seats, it is as much as bats on successive days before the walls of ever democracy can expect that he, who is regall, he slew three champions who came among the most admired of all historic per- out to meet this stripling of one-and-twenty. sonages, should be just captain john smith. one of them is now thatcher's island, the i have a hammer right where i can put my rest are nameless. only a smith's island at hand on it for most of these historic person- the mouth of chesapeake bay preserves the ages, people for whose funerals the band commonplace cognomen of the brave young turned out and all the stores in town closed up, fellow who, just three hundred years ago to- but it kind o' looks to me as if captain john day, took up the task of saving from their smith was considerable of a man. oftentimes own darn foolishness the most cantankerous a man's memorial outlasts the memory of him. lot of quarrelsome incompetents that ever but in the land for whose extension beyond the landed on these shores. which is as strong three hundred years ago a statement as i dare make. and at this were, who prized you for your worth. the exposition to celebrate the wonderful event heart swells to read them now as his must there isn't enough of captain john smith have swelled who penned these lines: mentioned to be an annoyance to anybody. “what shall i say then? but thus we lost captain john, they've been right stingy him that in all his proceedings made justice with you in the matter of tangible fixings on his first guide, experience his second; ever the order of when-this-you-see-remember-me. hating baseness, sloth, pride, and indignity but don't you care; don't let that worry you more than any dangers; that never allowed a little bit. in the minds of all who've gone more for himself than for his soldiers with to school long enough to get the first ten him; that upon no dangers would send them pages of american history, you have builded where he would not lead them himself; that you a monument than brass more lasting. would never see us want what he either had or for near on to years adventurous youth could by any means get us; that would rather has reveled in the story of the tight places want than borrow, or starve than not pay; you have got into and got out of; has hol that loved actions more than words, and lered “whoo-ee!” when you poked your hated falsehood and cozenage worse than trusty falchion plumb through bonny mul- death; whose adventures were our lives and gro right after he hit you that awful clout whose loss our deaths.” with his battle-ax; has understood just how gentle reader, there is no “advt it pd” it was the princess trag-etc., fell dead in under this tribute; it is no “marked copy” of love with you (what woman wouldn't that a press notice; it is no excerpt from “captains had half sense? you run mostly to whiskers of industry.” it is taken from the chronicle in your picture, but that was taken fifteen of potts and phettiplace, who knew how years after); has gritted its teeth to read how john smith could administer, and who lived mean your tartar master was to you, and has through the great starving time, the result exulted when you killed him and ran away; of the administration of “the better classes." felt ashamed and un- read it over again. easy about the way the note that each phrase jimtown crowd be- is a specific dig at a haved, but chuckled particular manifesta- when you came it over tion of the selfishness of old powhatan with the those who thought then mysterious compass (and think now) that whose needle pointed society exists for them ever to the north; has and not for society. rejoiced when little in this fourth of july pocahontas threw her season, i'm kind o' arms about you and bothered in my mind. told her papa he just i'm inclined to admire mustn't mash your head captain john smith in with a club - ah, and his principles, but captain john smith, all the men of un- what finer monument doubted probity and would you have? as copyright, , by the jamestown official pho- integrity, all the practi- for remembrancers, cal men, all the big- calcareous and vitre- bugs who are running ous, they shall perish things, are running but thou shalt endure. them just exactly cross- that epitaph they wise of captain john gave you in st. sepulchre's—all smith's method. i don't know. i gone now, church, monument, don't know whether their fame and all—is pretty fair. it was will last as long as his or not. well meant. but we've got so we sometimes i think not. don't take much stock in epi- what do you think? of which taphs. better far the words of can we say most surely: “they those who knew you well in trying shall perish, but thou shalt en- times, who loved you for what you dure"? tograph corporation. jamestown island. mes. trank oakley ("slivers "'). tlie premier clown. dallie julian, the meers sisters, and carrie rooney, " dainty, daring, dextrous equestriennes." lottie chamberlain. a noted aerialist. the aristocracy of the circus by hartley davis with photographs made especially for “everybody's magazine" by heyworth campbell the question was about a certain per- every member of my family has been a circus i former's antecedents. frank melville, performer. practically all the best performers now equestrian director of the new york before the public all over the world have come hippodrome after forty-six years in the saw- from about twenty different families.” dust ring, curled his lip under the little gray t hese twenty great circus families make up upturned mustache, and shook his head. an aristocracy as completely recognized, as “they have been in the business only closely hedged by tradition, as carefully safe- seventy-five years," he said, "so you can guarded in its own world as that of any mon- hardly call them more than interlopers.” archy. no member of a royal clan has great- "and how long must a family be in the er pride in his ancestry, in the achievements business to be one of you?” i asked him. of his forbears than the circus folk. their “oh, a hundred and fifty years or so. some annals are not to be found in books; they are of us are a good deal older than that. for handed down from one generation to another, instance, i am of the fifth generation of per- plus a little artistic embellishment born of formers. we go back more than one hun- great admiration, and thus are kept alive in dred and fifty years, and during all that time the tenacious memories of those who read the aristocracy of the circus little and write scarcely at all. not always are all the members of a so-called “fam- ily" blood kin, but the exceptions are children who were apprenticed or adopted when very young, usually at the age of six, whose training was the same as that of the sons and daughters, and who hold the family traditions in as high regard. and in the end, the tie is usually made people who are the world's nomads — living in tents a great part of the year, wandering over the face of the earth, in south america, south africa, india, aus- tralia, mexico. a people freed from the conventions that rule our familiar life, who are re- quired by the public only to startle and entertain, and yet who hold high and sacred the family idea and all that goes " home is where the trunk is." a group of star performers the woman is isabelle butler, who does the dip of death. ready for the grand entrÉe. the man in the middle is the famous clown "slivers." stronger by marriage with some blood member of the family. here is presented the ex- traordinary spectacle of a with it; and of whose real life the public knows very little. a social philosopher will tell you that the family is the very foundation of our trad the whirling dervish in repose. the whirling dervish in repose. a clown act that "goes great." the kennards and “slivers " bringing down the "elk." civilization, that society has thrown be bound by the ties of nationality; about it greater safeguards in the form they know nothing of the beneficent of laws, statutory and conventional, influence of a fixed habitation; the than about any other institution. the tights they wear when performing are home, the conventions of clothes, the but a single step from actual nudity, separation of and in per- the sexes forming most under certain feats the sexes conditions, are in close the warfare proximity. against di- yet, with- vorce-all out the arti- these and ficial safe- more has so- guards that a ciety come to conventional look upon as society has or- essential to dained, circus the preserva- performers tion of the are, as a class, family. the most mor- now, by the al folk on the very necessi- face of the ties of their earth. frank existence the melville ex- circus folk are pressed the cut off from all fact in this these things. "so that you can get a good picture of both of us." way: they cannot josie demott, "the only somersault equestrienne in the world." **for two the aristocracy of the circus hundred years there has not been a domestic scandal nor a divorce among us when both husband and wife were from recognized circus families. in every case where there has been a scandal, either- one or the other has been an outsider.” in this morality you have the full flowering of the family idea, so strong among these people. they are proud of their record; and it is not strange that, with so strong a regard for family ties, they succeed in investing their active life with a home atmosphere, independent of environment. in this country the circus families are fast dying out. the reasons are many. primarily, circus parents, in- stead of bringing up their children to become performers, encourage them to adopt some other calling, because the opportunities for success are greater in business or the professions, and the danger is less. for in most of the acts a circus performer is constantly risk- ing life and limb. moreover, salaries are not commensurate with the long years of preparation, the hard work, sunday for both of them. ella bradna and her favorite mount. and the brevity of a performer's active life. it is impossible to make a really good performer unless training is be- gun very young, say at six. of course a hereditary aptitude helps, but it is early training that counts most. a performer will not take a child to train unless he can be sure of the services of the youngster for a certain number of years after he becomes proficient. under the laws in most states a boy cannot be apprenticed until he is six- teen, and he is free in a few years. thus his training begins ten years too late, and even if he could be made valu- able he might leave his master when his services became sufficient to pay for his training and support. further- more, the big circuses, with more than one ring, do not tend to develop really finished performers, since no act has the undivided attention of the specta- tors. all these influences are divert- ing circus people from their hereditary employment. so we go to europe for the big acts. jennie wertz and her chariot team. h old japan in the pageant of the nations. the geisha girls are the bareback riders, dallie julian, carrie rooney, and one of the meers sisters, there, a child may be apprenticed at six; and there is still a high standard for the fine points, since they have but one ring. also, and this is highly important, the rule is to give only one afternoon performance a week, thus allowing the performers the whole day for practise. a real circus performer, trained in one of the old families by one of the masters (for so the great virtuosos of the circus ring are called, with the respect and reverence that is given to great teachers of music or painting), can do any- thing that is familiar in a circus. thus, he can do acrobatic work on the ground, ride bareback, or perform in the air; but he has distinction in one feat, which constitutes his principal act. the real performers have a pro- found contempt for “specialists" who can do but one thing. the circus folk are frugal and saving. when their active life in the ring ends, the men often secure executive positions with a circus, or as managers of troupes, which they train and to which they give their names. an instance is “ted” leamey, an old- timer, who has invented many novelties, like that of four girls working on trapezes attached to a great circle that revolves. he gets $ a week for the act and pays the four girls who perform $ a week each. there are few performers who do not save a competency; but one finds them living in small towns, and usual- ly with an occupation, for the habit of industry is strong upon them. ella bradna, a daring rider. the aristocracy of the circus consider some of the per- formers now before the public and see how they hark back to the old families. with the bar- num & bailey show are the sie- grists, now combined with the silbons, who go back so many years that they are credited with being the first family to work on a trapeze. the siegrists have furnished hundreds of dancers, riders, acrobats, and what not, but always they have held their supremacy in the air. the meers sisters, bareback riders, have a name that has been familiar to two or three generations, yet they in turn come from the oshanskis, one of the most famous families abroad. and these are related to the bonairs, who are to-day recognized as the greatest of acro- bats and who were lately seen at the new york hippodrome. josie demott, the somersault rider, with the barnum & bailey show, has similar distinguished connections, for the demotts have long been well known as performers. her sister, also a rider, is mar- some of the circus family off duty. his act ried to young “bob” stick- ney, son of the great "bob" stickney, who is now equestrian director of the ringling circus, and whose rehearsing family has been in the circus for six generations. robert stick- ney, sr., was the greatest athlete of his time. six feet tall, weigh- ing pounds, he had a per- fectly formed body. not only was he a master of bareback riding, but he could turn a somersault over twenty-one horses. the florenz family is one of the oldest acrobatic troupes be- 'fore the public. madame florenz, who can bear an unbelievable weight of human beings on her broad shoulders, is the daughter of a famous italian circus director, and is related to the chirinis, who for nearly years have furnished the best women riders in europe. dallie julian waiting to go on. under the "big top." a thrilling moment in the high wire act. minnie tournier, a tra- peze performer with the ringling show, is a mem- ber of one of the most famous of all circus fami- lies; her name is familiar wherever performers are found. indeed, it goes so far back that the grand- sons of the frenchwoman who is looked upon as the founder of the family were the first to introduce tra- peze acts in this country. the three brothers known as the clarkon- ians when they work as a erialists, and as the clarks when they ride, formerly with the barnum & bailey show and the hippodrome, and now with the ringling show, are at the very front among performers. no other tra- peze performers do the double somersault and twist in the air; no others present the somersault from the ground, landing on a horse's back stand- ing. their forbears have owned a circus in ireland for at least five genera- tions, and every member of the family has been a performer – men and women. the father now owns a circus there and in time the boys will go back to assume proprietor- ship of it. the cottrell-powers troupe of three, a man and his wife and his sister-in- law, who do the most dif- ficult and spectacular carrying act on horseback, and receive the highest salary of all performers in the business, also belong to irish families that owned circuses perhaps two hundred years ago. the crockett brothers, with the ringling show, belong to a gipsy family that has furnished per- kid" kennard describes the new act to his teddy bear. the aristocracy of the circus formers for nearly three hundred years. ma- dame dockerill, who was the most finished of all women bareback riders in america and who received a salary of $ a week the year round, “work or play,” was a kenable, a name prominent in circus history. madame saki, the famous dancer, was a member of this family. madame dockerill's husband is now assistant to william ducrow, also of a cele- brated family of riders, with the barnum & bailey show. w. w. cole, the managing director of “the greatest show on earth,” is not nearly so proud of the fact that he has risen from per- former to millionaire and is recognized, es pecially within the circle of the circus, as one of the greatest of showmen, as he is of being the son of mrs. cook, the foremost bareback rider of her day. riding on a broad pad strapped on a horse's back is very old; bareback riding is compara tively new. it was no longer ago than , on the fourth of july, that e. b. wash- burne's circus, playing in boston, was packed to suffocation by the announcement, spread broadcast, that, on that particular day, for the first time in the history of the world, a man would ride three times around the ring standing upright on the bare back of a gal loping horse! the rider, robert almar, actu- ally accomplished this feat, and also he carried an american flag, which he waved uncertain ly, thereby arousing tremendous enthusiasm. contrast that with the present, when there are scores of riders who can turn a somersault on horseback. a clever boy can be taught, in about three days, to stand up on a horse and ride around the ring. yet the changed conditions resulting from the three-ring circus have already lowered the standard of bareback riding. this coun- try has always furnished men riders of the best class. but there is no longer demand for the perfection, finish, ease, and grace that gave distinction to a few men like james rob- inson, james melville, charles fish, and their successors, frank melville and robert stickney, sr. they were kings of the bare- back art. i have heard old circus men say that they would rather see “jim” robin- son walk into the ring than see any other man ride. he was one of the best dancers that ever lived, yet he learned dancing merely to perfect his riding. he was one of the few exceptions in that he did not come of a circus family. he was born in new york, and his real name was james fitzgerald. adopted by john robinson, he was trained by a suc- cession of masters-trained how to walk as well as how to dance, how to posture-taught everything that would give him distinction in his act. never was there a woman with finer grace than his, never a grande dame with greater ease of manner. a little before his time james glenroy had turned the first somersault on a horse's back. that was on the bowery, within the memory of a large number of people now living. robinson per- fected the act. as long as he rode he was a great star. at the height of his fame he re- ceived $ a week in gold, equivalent to about $ , now, for fifty-two weeks in the year. he retired with a fortune, which is largely invested in the lewis department store in louisville, kentucky. starting when they were six, in the old days performers were trained for four years on the ground before they were permitted to stand on a horse. it is harder to teach a girl to ride than a boy, one reason being the former's lack of strength and stamina. only a girl with a physique very like a boy can hope to succeed. it is difficult for any woman to turn a somersault and it is possible only for those who have the adolescent figure. no adequate idea can be conveyed of the hard work that brings a rider like josie demott to such a position as hers. for ten years she worked each day until she reached the abso- lute limit of her strength, being careful not to overtax. it is all practise, practise, practise. nowadays all riders are taught by the use of a “mechanic," an apparatus to which they are attached by a strap suspended from a beam which revolves with them. it saves them many a hard fall in the early stages, and makes the progress in rudiments much faster, but saves no time in mastering fine points. after ten years of preparatory work, the few that show superior excellence are ready to ride as principals. they must own at least three horses, and usually they have four, in order to be proof against any emergency. the best care is taken of these animals. there is a horse with the ringling show, known as gipsy, that hasn't taken a step ex- cept under canvas for fifteen years. as soon as she has finished her work in the ring she is placed in a wagon to be carried to the train. a few years ago any good, strong animal- of course the better looking the more desirable -might be taken to be trained. then a horse could be bought for $ . now a good one, such as a circus would use as a draught- everybody's magazine horse, costs about $ . after they are trained for bareback riding these horses are worth from $ , to $ , , and some of them could not be bought at any price. the cottrell-powers trio carry six horses that they have insured for $ , each. the most difficult training stunt is to make a good bare- back horse, because it must be taught to travel at a pace that never changes, to take a stride that doesn't vary an inch in length. all circus rings the world over are forty-two feet in diameter. a bareback horse upon which a performer turns a somersault should take just twenty strides in making the circuit of the ring. if it can be taught to take twenty-two, it is so much more valuable. if it takes fewer than eighteen, it is useless for fine riding, though in the finish act, which goes with a rush and hurrah, it may circle the ring in twelve to fifteen strides. in turning a somersault on horseback, the rider rises with the horse, landing when the quarters are descending on the second strike after the rise. if there is a variation in time or in length of stride, it means a fall and very often a broken limb.. a man rider receives from $ to $ a week, and his career as a principal bareback rider lasts about ten years. it is short, not so much because these men get stiff and lose their agility, as because they lose their nerve. nearly all circus folk marry young, and with their added responsibilities comes a lively sense of constant danger which they ignored in younger days. a man rider who cannot turn a somersault on a horse cannot command more than $ a week. a woman rider who can perform this feat gets from $ to $ a week if she is a finished rider. this isn't much when all the disadvantages of the calling are taken into consideration, but it should be remembered that all the expenses are paid, including the care, feeding, and of course the transportation of their horses. all they have to provide is their own clothing. for the men riders clothes do not constitute much of a factor, and the women nearly always make their own, except those pro- vided by the management. it does not take so long to train acrobats or aerialists as riders. if they hope to accom- plish anything, they start as children. when a circus performer wishes to damn another he says: “started to learn after his feet stopped growing.” take the siegrist troupe, now combined with the silbons in the barnum & bailey show. old-timers with the show remember when toto siegrist was the “top- mounter” of an acrobatic act in which his father was the “understander" and a brother the middle man. this is the usual arrange- ment. siegrist worked abroad for years be- fore he was old enough to appear in this coun- try without being molested by the authorities. like the riders, the boys and girls who do acrobatic and aerial feats begin with the rudiments of tumbling and balancing. they must have control of their bodies to a degree not realized by “outsiders." a really fine acrobat can stand in the middle of five circles whose peripheries touch, start to turn a somersault, and land in any one of the five circles that is indicated while he is in the air. in the aerial acts the first thing taught and the part of the performance most practised is falling into the net. it is difficult tó mas- ter but, once learned, it gives the performer absolute confidence. i remember robert hanlon telling me years ago that he could fall from any height to the ground and if he were not killed outright, he would escape serious injury. if he had a net, he could plunge from a height governed only by the strength of the net. i remember seeing him dive from the top of the crystal palace in london, a distance of at least one hundred and fifty feet, making the turn which landed him on his shoulders when he was scarcely fifteen feet above the net. incidentally most of the aeri- alists make their own nets, partly for the sake of economy, partly because they want to make sure that the nets are safe. one member of a troupe doing big aerial or acrobatic acts is the manager, practically the owner. he devises the act, trains the people, and transacts all the business. he is paid a lump sum. in the siegrist troupe this man- ager is toto siegrist. he does the catching, that is, he swings on the short trapeze and catches the man who does the leaping. the catching is the more difficult, and equally im- portant, although the catcher never gets any applause. toto's brother, charles siegrist, does the leaping. the silbons do the same side by side with the siegrists. both charles siegrist and eddie silbon finish the act with a somersault into the net. their wives take part in the act. sometimes a woman does leaping or catching in an aerial act, and these, if they are not married to members of the troupe, can command from $ to $ a week and all expenses. the other women in the act are always referred to as “just catchers," their principal business being to catch the the aristocracy of the circus leapers as they come back to the perch. women's dressing-tent during a performance between times they do a few stunts on the in any of the big shows in the last ten years. “safety traps," as performers usually desig- each performer has two trunks, one for the nate the trapeze. the “just catchers” get “hotel,” which may be opened once a week, from $ to $ a week, and their chief reason on sunday, and the other for the circus. for being, aside from the catching, is to fill out this is always put in exactly the same place, the picture and to hold the attention of the spec- with a bit of rope above it on which clothing tators while the other performers are resting is hung to air. not an inch of space is the troupe of eleven people with siegrist wasted, nor a minute of time lost. the gets about $ a week and expenses. what women are marvelously industrious needle- division the members of the family make women and most of them are highly skilled among themselves is never known, but usu- in the art. some of the finest costumes worn ally it is on the basis of their importance as in the show are the handiwork of the wearers. performers. the one amusement to which the men the apparatus used by the troupe is ex- of the circus are most devoted is fishing. pensive. the net is about seventy feet long nine circus men out of ten carry a complete and twenty feet wide, and it costs $ . a angler's outfit in a trunk where every inch square foot. the trapezes, the frames that of space is precious. next to fishing comes support them, and the guy wires are of the baseball. if they cannot see a professional finest steel, and the whole represents an out- game they have one of their own. “slivers” lay of about three thousand dollars. oakley, the great clown with the barnum & the amount of physical work done by bailey show, is also a mighty hunter and the performers of the circus is scarcely be- carries three or four guns with him, always lievable. these people make the care of their placed at the top of his trunk where he can bodies their religion, and they will do nothing fondle them when he cannot use them. that militates against their strength or their i should like to say a great deal about the health. the barnum & bailey show has clowns, those human, wise, lovable men, abandoned parades because of the hardship least understood of all performers. years they entail on stock and people, but the others ago, in the days of the one-ring circus, the cling to them. when the performers rise in clown was one of the most important perform- the morning they hurry to the cook-tent for ers—with his jibes and songs. the three-ring breakfast. then they must get into their circus drove the talking and singing clown trappings for the parade, failure to report at out of business and for years he was relegated ten-thirty involving a fine of $ . if the to obscurity. now the pantomime clown is big tent is up early, the chances are that the waxing in importance. “spader” johnson, arena will be filled with performers practis- who divides with “slivers" the leadership of ing for an hour before the parade. after the barnum & bailey clowns, has been with the street display, the performers have their the show for twenty years and no man is dinner and then they must dress for the better loved or respected. his wife rides one grand entrée, from which none is excused.. of the high-grade horses. she learned so that only a very few of the circus folk escape with she could travel with him, for the circus never a single act. nearly all of them do two and carries anybody who does not work. it al- most of them three acts, for each of which ways makes a place, however, for the wife or they must change their costume. a woman husband of a good performer. isabelle but- performer often works in a gymnastic act on ler, who risks her neck by riding the automo- the ground, another in the air, rides in a bile that turns somersaults in the barnum & ménage act or two, and in the flat races at the bailey show—"l'auto bolide,” it is called end of the performance. in addition she will officially—and who is a trick bicycle rider and very probably “do a turn” in the concert a teacher of fancy skating in the st. nicholas after the show, and she must change her cos ice rink in new york in winter-time, is mar- tume for each appearance, ried, and a place was made for her husband the dressing-tent is a crowded, busy place, in the box-office. the managers always en- filled with horses, performers, trappings, yet courage keeping families together, and their without confusion. when a man swears in success is shown by the fact that practically the dressing-tent of a circus it must be under every woman of the circus is either married his breath or it will cost him money. and and has her husband with her, or is accom- no man has ever stepped foot inside the panied by her father or a brother. p the new strong wine of spring by katharine holland brown illustrations by franklin booth if you happen to stroll up the avenue now tiquity around the edges-books whose meek i and then of a bright morning, you may dilapidation, in the face of her otherwise have already met mr. lucius willingham rigorously ordered library, his wife has often coplow, pacing with sedate little steps deplored. so loudly did she deplore, indeed, through the seemly, elegant portals of the that on one memorable day, harried to the unity club, or halting meditatively before incredible verge of actual protest, mr. cop- the alluring banquet spread by a bookseller's low turned upon her and mildly requested window. you may have encountered him the privilege of taking his treasures to the to-day; you may have encountered him every attic, where he might enjoy them in peace. day for the past quarter century; but, if so, . the ethereal irony of his plea was sadly lost it may be safely averred that the impression upon the material lavinia. she promptly he has made in all that time has never been conceded him a corner of the fourth-floor other than one of dim, sedate neutrality. in trunk-room. thereafter, in that airless, fact, the probabilities are that he has made penitential cell, full of the chastening odor no impression at all. of moth balls, mr. coplow might frequently for mr. coplow's gentle, ineffectual pres be found, poring over his disreputable jew- ence, despite all its fineness of detail, its pol- els, or tenderly remounting a beloved en- ished courtesy, sets no more imprint upongraving upon a grimed and priceless page. the casual eye than does the passing footstep, these, however, are but subdued and triv- the vagrant breeze. he is a small, retiring ial interests. tastes grow by talking about gentleman, with many grandfathers, and a them; and mr. coplow seldom talks very confiding expression. his principles are as much, having had most of that done for him impeccable; albeit as unaggressive, as his during the thirty-seven years of his married raiment; his tastes as staid as his cravats. life. when he does venture to express him- he has an eye for an etching, a vague, sur- self, it is often in the light armor of quotation. reptitious fondness for old books, preferably to those who know him well, he looks sur- of the leathery, musty sort, chewed by an- prisingly like a quotation himself; with his the new strong wine of spring mild, studious air, his exquisite clothes, his "perhaps i can.” lavinia plucked the pleasant, irresolute face, he might pass for sheets ruthlessly from his grasp. “if you one of the gentle couplets in which he so of- would only listen when i address you— at ten garbs his modest thought. three o'clock to-day, 'the right rever- from a less frivolous point of view he end lucius, you are not taking a second gives the aspect of a man submerged in life. cup of coffee! after all dr. holbrook's his slender initiative was drowned out in warnings !” early years by his inherited fortune; and now “you gave me such a very scant serving, he is, as it were, swept along, often out of my dear- " breath, now and then rolled over and over, “take the urn away, peters. i must say, on the big, resistless wave whose bulk is his lucius " great wealth, and whose impetus is lavinia. whereupon the worm essayed a feeble thus mr. coplow. and yet, as this chroni- turn: cle shall set forth, not a twelvemonth since “lavinia, my love, i really must have a there came to him an hour when all the tides little more. it is so chilly this morning. of life turned and beat high and reverberant; and moreover, i cannot relish my breakfast when all the winds of romance called aloud without it. i must request another " in his ears; when he arose to his full stature, “take the urn away, peters. how you and did brave deeds, flushed and afire with can be so childish, lucius, as to cling to that that deep, headiest nectar, the new strong habit! isabel, where are you going?" wine of spring isabel halted in the doorway, with a mu- tinous click of staccato heels. her dark head “have you finished reading the times, tossed high; but her black eyes, all too heavy lucius? your omelet is getting cold.” beneath their shadowing lashes, wavered and mr. coplow halted midway of an inspired fell before her aunt's unswerving gaze. editorial, and blinked toward the head of the “molly percival and i are to try her new table with a deprecating eye. motor-car this morning,” she said sulkily. “certainly, my dear. i mean, in one “we planned to go every forenoon this moment-ah- week, but you always made me go shopping, “because, if you have, i must glance or to be fitted, or something. and here it through the funerals.” mrs. coplow but- is friday— " tered her muffin with august calm. “i find “peters, call miss percival's number, and that isabel has thoughtlessly neglected to leave word that miss isabel cannot keep her send a card of condolence to the cornelius engagement." lavinia rose, with majestic wilbours, and i fear that the services have mien. “i would not limit your pleasures, already occurred.” isabel. but for a girl whose wedding-day is : “certainly, my dear.” lucius was gulp- hardly a month hence, you show a lamentable ing the climax. indifference to your responsibilities! i doubt “why, lucius, has it really taken place? whether you have even asked your brides- just as i thought! isabel, you must write maids. molly percival must be maid of immediately, and explain to old mrs. wil honor, i suppose. but have you decided on bour that our apparent negligence was due the others?" entirely to your carelessness. who officiated, “no, aunt lavinia." lucius?" lavinia regarded her with blank displeas- isabel flounced. ure. “william travers jerome," murmured “really, isabel, you are too careless. sit lucius vaguely. he was wolfing the last down, child. lucius, you, too. i want to lines in piteous haste. “stern adherence' discuss the decorations. harrod advises -'uncompromising integ— "" white roses and stephanotis, everywhere save “lucius coplow! did you hear what i in the dining-room, for which he suggests yellow tulips. what do you say? by the mr. coplow dropped the mangled frag- way, what flowers were used at clara var- ments in despair. he pushed his gray wig ney's wedding?" askew with a bewildered hand; the gesture "er-ah–i couldn't be certain. gera- made him look even more like a harassed niums, was it not, my dear?” chipmunk than before. “geraniums! what nonsense. isabel?” "my love, i really cannot understand-/" "i didn't notice. pink somethings.” said?” everybody's magazine “you never do notice, either of you." when in black velvet and diamonds. from mrs. coplow's tone rang chill reproach. “i every point, she presented an invincible for- may as well settle it myself. the yellow tress-front. even her high, gray pompadour sounds rather garish. perhaps he had better had a granite, ptolemaic cast. without being do it in greens. ferns, and trailing as- a large woman, she appeared of towering im- paragus " mensity; of the impenetrability of steel. you “he can do it in trailing spinach, for all i could not climb over her; you could not care," said isabel, under her breath. for- tunnel through her, any more than through tunately, lavinia did not hear her heresy. the rock of gibraltar; and, thus far, no she had turned to her desk, and was search- human being had ever been known to get ing with capable hands through serried around her. memoranda. isabel, on the other hand, was a creature of mr. coplow glanced with mild interest moods. from wife to niece. he thought vaguely that she sat now in thunderous silence; her their slight resemblances had never been slender young body, built on long, clean, more marked, even though the two were, as swaying, modern lines, reared rigidly erect usual, in supremely opposite moods. lavinia on the slippery brocaded chair. she was an was tranquil and composed; lavinia was olive-and-pomegranate girl, with much luster- never anything else, for that matter. her less black hair, uprolled superbly from her steady, dominant temperament was as im- dark, sulky face. wine-crimson burned in mutable as were the tones of her assured, her round cheeks; her soft mouth pouted; her commanding voice. mr. coplow yielded a eyes drooped, shadowed by curled, childlike furtive sigh. that was so essentially the lashes. always upon her glowed dusky word for lavinia-commanding. on this bloom, breathing of warm autumn orchards, april morning, even in chaste frippery of of odorous baskets, heaped with purpling lilac house-gown and lisse frills, she gave the fruit. this morning, however, she looked same impression of pyramidal inexorability as more like a damson plum than like any other mate g lilar hu cecro tranklin booth " isabel! what on earth- the new strong wine of spring horticultural treasure, her uncle considered; archibald were sweethearts from their dan- and he felt uneasily that to disturb her would cing-school days? and that they were en- give the same sensation as a deep bite into gaged all the time he was at west point?” a somewhat unripe specimen. certainly, “why, to be sure. i had quite forgotten. isabel was not herself, her uncle considered. but they quarreled and broke it off. and she had been inexplicably discontent these she is engaged to samuel witherspoon now, many days. my dear." “lucius!” lavinia turned briskly. “you “yes. she is engaged to samuel.” la- and isabel may meet me at st. timothy's, at vinia's voice took on the menacing ring of one exactly five o'clock. i want a final decision wearied out in well-doing. “and no one, as to decorations. also, we will have a least of all that ungrateful girl, will ever ap- rehearsal.” preciate the pains i took in bringing it about. isabel turned with a gasp. the dull flame if archibald had not been ordered to san leaped in her cheek. francisco just after their final quarrel, i “aunt lavinia, please, we'll do no such doubt whether even i could have managed thing. it's—it's bad enough to be married it. but, as it was, everything went perfectly. at all, without going over all that ghastly samuel is not interesting, i know. but he silliness beforehand, just to make sure that is thoroughly good, and, with his money and my train doesn't flip over, or that samuel's his position, he can make her far happier knees don't knock together—though, for that than that penniless boy could ever do. and matter, when the time comes, they will knock! here her trousseau is bought, the day set, they'll rattle like castanets! you'll see! everything arranged—when lo and behold, and the whole affair is odious enough, as it archibald is transferred to governor's island, is " literally under our feet! of course he must she stopped short, crimson and furious, dash up here the moment of his arrival. yet quelled as always by her aunt's impassive and in fifteen minutes more isabel came eye. flying into my room-lucius, to think any “he's out of town to-day, anyway,” girl could so lack in proper pride!-and she added, grumblingly. cried, and stormed, and commanded-yes, "then there will be no rehearsal—for the commanded—that i should send her ring present.” lavinia yielded with visible reluc- back to samuel, and dissolve the engagement. tance. “but we'll decide about the church i promptly made it clear to her that a mo- decorations-promptly at five, remember.” ment's whim could hardly supplant her only isabel's rebellious footsteps re- plighted word. also, i forbade her to re- sponded as she clattered away up-stairs. ceive wallace, or to communicate with him, “upon my word, lucius coplow, was there in any way. she obeys, apparently; but i ever a more unreasonable, ungrateful child!” know that they meet, nevertheless. the lavinia snapped her despatch-box with af- whole affair is too exasperating. if there fronted energy. “and in the face of all we had been a serious affection between them, i are doing for her!” should say nothing. but a puppy-love affair “were you, perhaps, a little—a little—per- like that! and isabel is so obstinate! she emptory about the motor, my love?” flatly refuses to see that all my interference "about the motor!” lavinia turned on is for her best good.” him with blinding scorn. “so you think it is lucius thought vaguely that he wouldn't just rides and rehearsals! if that were all - want to marry samuel witherspoon either. hadn't you heard that archibald wallace is in he had always detested that estimable youth town? of all the wretched complications!” since the days when lavinia's intimacy with “archibald wallace?” lucius fumbled samuel's mother had obliged him to kiss the obediently for a clue. “old admiral wal- pasty baby at frequent intervals. the fact lace's grandson? the red-headed army that samuel was now sole heir to all the one? why, what of that, my dear?” witherspoon millions was of little weight. lavinia fixed him with a stare of frank however, lavinia could do no wrong. alarm. lavinia meanwhile had turned with a final “lucius, sometimes i wonder if your ab- resentful sniff to her mass of letters. pres- sent-mindedness can possibly be developing ently lucius gathered up his books and went into what your grandfather willingham's slowly away, up the many stairs to his little did. can't you remember that isabel and den. everybody's magazine the door of his tight, moth-bally study scarcely consoling, philosophy. yet that stood ajar. somewhat blinded by the sud- anguished young face, that look of utter den change from the light hallway to its desolation, drifted before his eyes, and chafed gloom, he stepped cautiously in-to tread his thought throughout the day. squarely and horribly upon a soft, limp a t four o'clock, he laid aside “pendennis” heap." reluctantly, and betook himself down the "isabel! my dearest child! did i hurt club staircase and across the avenue to st. you? what on earth- " timothy's. lavinia would be already there, isabel crouched by an open trunk, her face he thought, with a sigh. lavinia was always buried in a heap of frilly chiffon, scarlet, be- prompt. diamonded with jeweled dew. her uncle st. timothy's, a dim, jewel-lit cavern after gaped down at her; to his dim masculine the glittering avenue, was deserted, save memory the red flounces brought the fleeting for the assistant organist, who sat afar, vision of a far-away christmas dance, years fingering an uproarious prelude. lucius's gone, and of a broad, red-headed young man, dazzled eyes sought the auditorium to the very much buttoned. . . . isabel was cry farthest corner, but in vain. in the midst of ing. not in high, hysterical, feminine fash- his amazement, a sudden recollection smote ion, but slowly, heavily, with long, snatching, him. he looked at his watch with a shamed ugly sobs, that seemed as if they might tear grimace. even her strong, splendid, young body. "four o'clock! and lavinia distinctly mr. coplow hopped back and stood look- said five!” the memory of grandfather ing down at her, terrified. willingham's “development” smote him with . "isabel! my dear! why, isabel, are you irritating force. “i'll go back to the club. -crying? there, there!” he patted her how careless!” apprehensively with three fingers. “if you the vestibule door resisted his hand: he could just give me a coherent explanation, my gave it a vigorous shove. it yielded suddenly love " and swung out with a thump, squarely into isabel was too quenched to resent even the back of a very large young man.' this fond, maddening sympathy. she dragged the breath of mr. coplow's apology died herself to her feet, shut the trunk, and on his lips. for on the young man's shoulder stumbling to the stairs, blundered down them lay isabel's head and isabel's small cling- heavily, like a blind woman. ing hand. mr. coplow sat down dazedly. “la- mr. coplow gulped. the man turned with vinia has perhaps been a little—a little too a jerk; his set young face glared haggard in decided,” he pondered. for a breath, keen the dim light. the girl's arms fell; she faced resentment toward lavinia's merciless de- her uncle with the same grim, white-lipped crees shook his mild bosom. “lavinia is composure that her lover's face declared. often rather-decided. and it seems a pity “isabel! my dear child! what does this to separate two young people, if they are mean?” really so fond of each other as-as isabel's “it doesn't mean anything, i suppose.” melancholy behavior would indicate. lavinia isabel's cold lips slowly formed the words. certainly should have considered isabel's “only that i don't want to marry samuel, happiness in this affair as well as her material uncle luscious. i hate him. i want arch. prospects.” a faint pink rose in his delicate i've loved him all my life. and we were old cheek. his gentle eyes grew a little dim going to be married, only i had to quarrel “isabel is nothing but a child. it is too with him, like the silly goose i was, and he severe of lavinia to dominate her so. and went away. and now " yet- " her white face did not waver. but her and yet, alas! for all her stern, unflinching straight young shoulders took on a piteous tyranny, lavinia had been undeniably sensi- droop. ble. isabel and wallace had not a penny “but, isabel, my dear! you know your between them; nor, still worse, the ability to aunt is trying—she is seeking your best in- save a penny between them. moreover, terests in this thing.” lucius found himself “if they have quarreled seriously once, they defending lavinia with twenty frantic argu- will assuredly quarrel again. and that alone ments—lavinia, whose righteousness could would show the folly of such an attachment,” never need defense! “you—forgive me, concluded lucius, with determined, although child, but this seems very ill-advised. your mit ro nguni ales arhiti b ult or lo w audi than watu in min wh umo wymi vruty iivri de van wie dul franklin bootin “tut, tut, lucius. don't keep them waiting." marriage is all but concluded. you, a coplow, cannot break your word— ” "i broke it to arch first,” said isabel dully. “and you must consider samuel's feelings. he has a right to some-consideration. and your own future, my love, most of all.” lucius spluttered, eloquent. “you cannot step out of the life that you have always lived; you cannot take up an untried existence, where you must renounce every luxury, every comfort, even— " “cut it out,” said young wallace curtly. his big shoulders squared; his voice rang harsh on a breaking edge. “isabel, he's dead right. we can't smash everything, just for our two selves. we did the whole mischief for ourselves, anyway, when we were fools enough to break it off. that gave your aunt her chance. it's all up now. i shan't spoil the rest of your life. good-by.” isabel listened, blanched and moveless. she put out one little gloved hand. young wallace stooped and caught it to his lips, then strode to the door. but at the door, he glanced back. their eyes met. isabel did not speak. her trembling hands lifted, then fell at her side. the pitiful gesture of broken will brought the man at one leap, to catch her in his arms with a low passionate cry. “my love! my own love! my darling! everybody's magazine i won't give you up. never. be quiet. i one life, and it's mine to give as i choose. tell you, they shan't take you away from me. and i've given it to arch.” oh, my love, my love, my own!” there was a poignant silence. overwhelmed and shaken, mr. coplow “isabel, of all the mad, impossible " dodged through the swinging door again, and “it isn't impossible. it isn't even in- stood alone in the dusky auditorium. he was convenient,” wallace broke in cheerfully. divided between a shocked disapproval of the “here's church, and organist, and bride, and tempest raging beyond that green baize, and groom, and the rector right next door, and an impassioned yearning to put his ear to the the maid of honor lives around the corner. crack. this must not go on. in half an and, best of all, here's the next of kin, to hour lavinia, the punctual, would surely ar- give the bride away. hike your necktie rive; and while this scene might be distress- straight, uncle luscious, and make up your ing, the one that would ensue, should she sud- mind to it. it's up to you.” denly appear, would be past endurance. he for a long minute lucius looked from one must recall poor isabel to her unhappy part. to the other. the girl, grave, rose-flushed, he must send young wallace, who was really confident; the boy, crimson to his auburn a very well-intentioned young man, lugubri temples from excitement, yet with unflinching ously about his business. lavinia had de- purpose set like a flint in steady eyes and creed this thing. lavinia could do no wrong. tightened mouth. then, as if swept past yet a queer flutter stirred his dry pulses at his own command on the wind of their dar- thought of their splendid young despair. ing, lucius shut his mild little grasp upon he had best interrupt them immediately. their eager hands. to break in upon that tragic tumult made “command me, children,” he said with him feel as if he were calling a halt on an an uncertain smile. "if you are really d-de- earthquake; but he stiffened his wavering termined-i suppose it is up to me." knees and nerved himself for the fray. “go get the rector, arch.” isabel re- even as his unsteady hand sought the knob, leased uncle luscious from a hug that left the door swung back. him limp and dazed. “you come to the isabel stood before him, erect, flushed, vestry with me, you old precious. i've got glowing, incredibly transformed from the some telephoning to do.” white, shattered thing of a moment before. as in some weird dream, lucius beheld “why, isabel " himself seated upon a gothic bench beside "listen, uncle luscious.” isabel bent the telephone stand. he shivered a little. and gripped his wrists with both strong with the first tones of isabel's voice he knew hands. young wallace towered behind her; the die was cast. the two young faces shone as with some un- “is that you, molly percival?” isabel's earthly flame. “it's all settled. i'm not head was high, her voice a clarion. "i'm going to marry samuel. i'm going to marry right close by, in the entry at st. timothy's. arch. and you've got to help. there, now!” yes, dear, we dropped in for a-rehearsal. “wh-wh-what!” and-molly, are you alone? horrors! “it will look so much decenter if you back they've stopped for tea? well, who in the us up, don't you see?” urged young wallace. world—mrs. wilson? mrs. schuyler wil- he flung a beguiling arm round uncle lu- son, you mean? and nancy and judy cius's narrow shoulders. all passion, all mar barnes, and neddy rutherford? h’m. of pain was swept from his face; he looked now, molly, listen. it's a quarter to five. like an ecstatic, overgrown boy. “you see, at five exactly, i'm going to be married, and uncle luscious, it's going to be an elopement, you and all those people must drop your the best we can do; but with you along, to teacups and come straight over for the cere- give a sort of odor of sanctity, it won't be mony. if you don't stop gasping, molly, i half so scandalous. see?" can't go on. bring a fresh handkerchief for “elopement!” me. molly, what are you screaming so for? “listen, uncle luscious.” isabel thrust of course it's arch. who else? good-by.” her lover aside, and took lucius's blank, “great scheme.” wallace dashed in, fol- stricken face between her satin palms. lowed by the bewildered old rector, and seized “we're going to be married, right here, and the receiver. “ - th street, please. now. for this is our last chance at hap- hello! this the khaki club? run to the piness, and we're going to snatch. i've only billiard-room, thomson, and see if captain w the new strong wine of spring kent or atterbury or buchanan or ned win- his shoulders lifted to superb erectness. his throp is there, any one of them—or the whole faded eyes took on a radiant gleam. the high, gang, for that matter. tell them to hit the exhilarating draught of responsibility leaped trail for st. timothy's like blazes. tell 'em to his brain and burned in fiery currents to his i'm to be married at five, sharp-married, finger-tips. for once in his life he was a at five, you idiot! who's what? oh, wal- part of life itself. with the two awaiting him lace, of the th. hike, will you? and say behind that door he knew himself divinely that the one who gets here first shall be best young. man,” a deafening throng of wedding guests con- isabel stood before the vestry glass, se- fronted him as he entered. molly percival, renely arranging her hair. the rector, gen- bareheaded, shrieking wild questions; mrs. tlest and most guileless of superannuated schuyler wilson, dazzling in miraculous rai- shepherds, after one or two hazy inquiries, ment of heliotrope and silver; the pink and had accepted the situation, and had retired ruffly barnes twins; neddy rutherford, for his vestments. he was a little puzzled leathery and redolent of gasoline. and facing by this oddly informal consummation of their frantic pleas, a pale and determined miss coplow's supposably elaborate wedding bride; a red and determined groom. plans. however, it was given to people to “we can't wait for your friends, arch, change their minds. besides, the rector had dear. please don't shout so, molly. you're been literally snatched from a sea of transla- to be maid of honor. certainly. yes, i know tions, and mind and soul were still adrift in you're not dressed. but look at me! and, the fourteenth century. little wonder that mr. rutherford " he could not perceive a trifling discrepancy the door swung open; there hurtled in four in the way of a bridegroom! breathless, laughing men. they stopped on “darling uncle luscious!” isabel dropped the threshold, amazed and spluttering. they her hatpins and put out her hands to him. gaped, witless, at wallace's terse explanation "you aren't going to see your isabel walk and the hurried introductions that ensued. up that aisle without a single flower, are you, “you'll be best man, kent, please. if the dear? trot over to the friesland and tell rest of you will chase in-er--walk up the the florist to give you bride roses, or else aisle— " wallace stopped, with a helpless white lilac. and hurry, please.” gurgle. the rôle of master of ceremonies lucius fled thankfully upon his quest. in is a difficult one, at best. how much more action he could escape the gibbering terrors difficult when the wedding is one's own! of retribution that now mocked and mowed isabel cast a beseeching glance upon at his ear. he purchased the flowers (not uncle lucius. head aloft, chest expanded, at the florist's, but from a friendly push cart, uncle lucius rose to her appeal. being nearest at hand) and strode back loftily, “major buchanan, will you escort mrs. humming a triumphant tune. wilson to a pew? mr. rutherford, will you alas, his fiends of prescience awaited him, take miss barnes? captain kent, if you and even at the lych-gate. even as he stepped lieutenant wallace will repair to the chancel, within, the full horror of his wretched yield- miss coplow and i will meet you there im- ing, his injustice to poor samuel, worst of all mediately. you gave instructions to the his treachery to lavinia-lavinia !-swept organist, archibald? ah, that is right!” over him in drowning waves. panic caught for the familiar strains of lohengrin were at his gasping throat. wild-eyed, his arms floating down from the dim organ-loft. still heaped with the crimson roses and callas “now, we are all ready. let me take that of his judicious choice, he bolted through pink string off that rose, my love. if only the gate and started to run. your poor aunt- eh?" at the curb, he stopped short, teeth chat- for once again the door swept open. the tering, yet suddenly himself again. the situa- sunlit space was darkened by a regal bulk tion was dreadful beyond words. the family in trailing carriage-cloak and billowing would never forgive him. samuel would be plumes. his enemy for life. lavinia-heaven alone “why, lucius, this is very prompt, for you. could know what lavinia would do! never- dear me, how dark it is, coming in from the theless, as wallace had said, it was up to him. street! is isabel — why, are you having a he was isabel's next of kin, her natural pro rehearsal, after all? samuel has returned, tector. he must do or die. then, and insisted upon it? oh, go on, both s he whiha women to jwhvelfi is ni wisiors will please not walk udon i a rankher boolit i head up, chest expanded, he trampled gaily through. of you! i'll follow, and get the effect from beaming group in the front pew. sally behind.” wilson, her arch-rival, her dearest foe; those “but, lul-lul-lavinia— " forward barnes chits; major buchanan, that mr. coplow shut his eyes. mr. coplow's grinning house-party clown, whose chief tongue was sticking to his teeth. his neat accomplishment was the portrayal of his most heels beat an anguished tattoo upon the floor. decorous acquaintance in most indecorous “tut, tut, lucius. don't keep them wait- guise. aghast, infuriate, yet keenly conscious ing. go on. now, don't strut so, lucius. that a scene was the thing of things to be keep your elbows in, isabel. go right on." avoided, she blundered into the nearest pew. up the aisle went the wedding procession the organ softened, fell silent. the of the year. a flushed and open-mouthed rector's voice lifted in deep, mellow cadences. maid of honor, in a charming white lace tea- “... let him speak now, or else forever gown; a royal bride, her dark head high, her after hold— ” cheeks ablaze, carrying her sheaf of battered lavinia half rose, choking in her anger. blossoms like a scepter; and, following close she caught major buchanan's popping, upon her calm proud loveliness, a stately anti- ecstatic eye; she sat down again, with the climax, lorgnette in hand, whose smile of thud of utter defeat. even that hovering bland criticism froze to glaring amazement sword of ridicule might not have quelled her. as they neared the chancel. but lucius's rebuking glance would have “where's samuel witherspoon?” her stricken yet a stronger soul to blind dismay. astounded whisper shrilled through the silent it was madness in those others. but for church. “what! lieutenant wallace, may lucius so to defy her—lucius! i inquire - lucius willingham coplow! the music rose again, in the triumphant what does this mean?”. thunders of the mendelssohn. as in a mr. coplow turned to her flaming wrath dream, the two silent young creatures turned, with the face of a reproachful cherub. hand in hand, down the long aisle. the “this is the house of god, lavinia. radiance of their joy shone round them; it please take a seat.” drifted like incense through the shadowy “lucius coplow, have you lost your wits? room and hushed the waiting group. the who-when- " laughter, the reckless mischief, was stilled to her wild eye turned imploring upon the tender awe. the men stood with bowed the new strong wine of spring heads. mrs. wilson's eyes grew dim. molly. lucius collapsed against the brougham percival whimpered candidly into her hand- door. one miracle a day was bad enough! kerchief. "i ought to be angry with you, lucius." in the vestibule, they all kissed isabel slowly he realized that lavinia was melt- reverently. even lavinia, dazed and blink- ing in abject tears upon his thin little shoul- ing from the icy shock of revelation, held her der. he put a tentative arm around her. in her arms a moment, and gave wallace an the tears overflowed. agitated pudding-cheek. “i ought to be displeased. b-but to think “we shall expect you to dinner, children," you'd really dash ahead, and act on your own said lucius, the pontifical. he lifted isabel's convictions, no matter what the results might cold fingers to his lips; he shut wallace's be! lucius, it was m-masterly!" hands in a capable, fatherly grip. there was lucius felt a little faint. a ruddy flush on his thin cheeks; he had put “i'm a trifle tired, lavinia,” he said pres- on inches of the rankest growth. “come, ently, releasing his arm. “a walk across lavinia. careful of that step, my dear.” the park might brace me up. one moment, lavinia bumped obediently into the car james.” he stooped, with curt masculine riage. half-way in, she bethought herself. brutality, and gave her a pecking kiss. then "but, lucius- " he stepped from the brougham, blind to her “go on, my love. you are a little over- clinging hands, her all but spoken pleas. wrought. no wonder. home, james.” “go home and try to compose yourself, my lavinia subsided into the far corner. the love. this has been a trying hour. good-by.'' brougham swung away up the avenue. he strode away through the gay green “but, lucius, i don't understand. where park, beneath the soft late sunshine. his did he come from? whatever possessed knees felt cold; there was a curious hollow isabel? what will become of poor sam?” place inside him; his head was queerly light. “please try to be sensible, lavinia. sam- “masterly!!” the word broke from his uel could never have made isabel happy. i lips at intervals, as if in ecstasy that must perceived that. so did isabel. that is why have vent. “masterly!' and to think- we-eloped.” if i'd only taken that tack with her before!” “then you arranged it!” half an hour later he turned homeward, deep in lucius's soul there fluttered a walking straight and calm, yet with an ex- mounting, hideous qualm. but his gaze did ultant little scuffle. some distance from his not flinch. his voice rang clear. path lay a little patch where the grass was "i arranged it, yes. it was expedient, badly trodden. it had been recently re- lavinia. it is not necessary for me to say seeded; a little green frost of blades just more." showed above the mold. around it stood a “but why in the world did you want to? tiny fence of stakes, reenforced by a polite why should you yield to isabel's whim? yet peremptory signboard: why could she so overrule you?” “why?” lucius considered. then he visitors will please not spoke out, with the awful frankness of his walk upon this lawn supreme hour. “i don't know, lavinia. unless it was because isabel reminds me so much of what you were, at her age. and she lucius put on his glasses and read the sign has a good deal of your temperament, my carefully. love." then he gave his shoulders a hitch of “why, lucius! i don't-i can't believe abandoned defiance. he did not deign to -how l-lovely of you! though i never had cast a glance at the policeman standing not isabel's complexion. my n-nose is better twenty feet away. head up, chest expanded, than hers, though. and to think you were he kicked the slender paling aside, and tram- really thinking all the time just of me-- " pled gaily through. “in an even balance" by grace ellery channing author of "the sister of a saint," "the fortune of a day," etc. illustrations by a. de ford pitney ertrude threw down the letter jov- it in a frown of attention, he rose, and walking u ously; there was an air of victorious to the window, looked out on what struck him exultation about her. this morning as a rather dreary prospect. “six readings-fifty dollars each and ex- the quick rustle of gertrude's gown and her penses! that will cover all i have planned impetuous footsteps—all gertrude's move- for the house and more too. why don't you ments were a little over-energized-prepared say something, will?” her tone was slightly him for the contact of her arm slipped within aggrieved. “you don't seem a bit pleased.” his own, and the bright decision of her face. carroll roused himself with an effort; he “of course, dear, there is only one thing to too was reading a letter. be done,” said gertrude. “of course i am pleased-delighted. when and carroll had known perfectly well that did you say the readings are to be?” there she would say that too. was a certain constraint under the obvious “it comes hard, of course,” continued geniality, but gertrude beamed at once. gertrude, “especially after all you have done; “the first two weeks in september, mrs. but you certainly can't leave an aunt who has van ness says—and that's just right for the been a mother to you, and a cousin who has work too; i do hate tearing up a house in been a sister, in straits. you'll have to carry winter. now i can have it all ready when them through the winter somehow-perhaps the children come home at christmas-i be- by spring louise will be able to teach again- lieve i'll make this room pompeian.” she poor louise." glanced about the pleasantly worn carpet and “i have just paid up the insurance,” said furniture. “besides,” she added, “the trip carroll slowly, with apparent irrelevance; will serve for a vacation as well. i wish you then he looked straight at his wife. “frankly, were going to have it, dear.” i don't see my way. nelson has a year more “thanks,” said her husband. at college, and nell-i don't see how i can of the two, he looked indeed the more in send her this vear." need of it. he was not yet fifty, but his “but i do," gertrude broke in triumph- shoulders stooped slightly and he had the antly. she waved mrs. van ness's letter. fagged appearance of the man who saves “have you forgotten? there's a beginning, everything-even his vacations—and whose and i shall make a lot more—you'll see.” work is more routine than joy. gertrude “you wanted that--for the house,” said was not a woman of quick perceptions, but as carroll. she glanced across the breakfast-table, where “so i did," said gertrude gaily, “but- the two were enjoying one of those early meals bless me—don't you suppose i'd rather send that precede the suburban business man's my own daughter to college? why, i shall rush townward, something in the unusual glory in it. i can help with nelson too. dejection of her husband's bowed shoulders cheer up, dear!” there was again that ring stirred an instinct of compassion. of exultation in her voice and carroll winced, “what is it, dear?” she asked, leaning while he said quickly: toward him. “it is your usual generosity." after a bare moment's hesitation he put the “there is nothing generous about it," letter into her hand. he had known all along gertrude replied. “it is no more than just. that there was nothing else for him to do. what reason is there why i shouldn't do my while his wife's brows came together over part?” “in an even balance". "no reason, of course,” said carroll, imagine it—that chance church entertain- smiling faintly. he pressed his wife's hand ment for which in an unusually happy mood and kissed her twice, in his desire to make he had written a monologue for her to read. plain his gratitude. • her success had been instantaneous, and, to "i shall just fall to and work up some more gertrude, dazzling in its opening vista of readings," said gertrude enthusiastically, possibilities and possible releases. she had “and you go and see aunty, and set poor been asked to repeat the monologue on several louise's mind at rest this very day.” she occasions. carroll, too, had had his momen- patted his shoulder affectionately, and waved tary vision of releases, of the joys of author- him a gay farewell from the window. ship; he had written other monologues; but carroll spent the forty-five minutes' transit just then a period of special expense incident to his newspaper office in wondering if he had to illness, plumbing, and other minor matters, sufficiently manifested his gratitude to his fell upon the household, and the peculiar wife, and loathing himself that there could be felicity of his first attempt was not repeated. any question of it. so gertrude had looked farther afield for before the desk where for sixteen years he monologues. her vision, at least, had come had spun out daily columns, this question true—that was something, at any rate; and nevertheless pursued him. ought not any the transfiguration her husband witnessed in man to give thanks for a wife like that? and her constituted accusation enough against nobody could appreciate more than he those half longings of carroll's for the earlier gertrude's generosity, her capacity; nobody days. believed more devoutly than he in woman's there was no tinge of envy in that feeling; independence or respected more its terms. he was proud of his wife—even without the and a poor devil like himself had reason to be continual reminders that he ought to be so. twice thankful for gertrude. his pride in her was the offspring of love, and when carroll had entered the office it had not of that duty to which friends and relatives been with other ambitions, but he had ended so frequently invited him. sometimes, in- by being thankful if he could merely hold on deed, he felt it would have been a purer pride to the post. it had not seemed indeed as if without these reminders.. the cost of maintaining one man, one woman, “it is thanks to gertrude that i can," he and two children, with the decent demands of told his cousin, in the after-office visit that a modest home-life, ought to take all a man's restored peace of mind to a conscientious and brain-power, but it had taken pretty much all worn-out worker. his; that, with the increasing care of his aunt, “if it weren't for gertrude, we couldn't let the life-insurance he felt it a duty to keep up you," had been louise's grateful acknowl- for gertrude and the children, and a few other edgment; while the aunt who was carroll's unconsidered trifles of similar nature. only remembered mother drew down his head in those early years gertrude, of course, to murmur with a last kiss: had not been earning, and perhaps things had “thank gertrude too.” cost rather more than if she had been con yes, it was thanks to gertrude, thought spicuously gifted domestically; but she had carroll, as he passed under the dripping door, been always an admirable wife and mother, noting with a mechanical glance at the porch sharing with a bright fortitude in all the rubs roof that a carpenter was imperative. as he and restrictions and denials of their common walked down the narrow path, he felt himself life. it was the more to her credit as she was so little of a success that his humility would not conspicuously domestic; she must always have led him to pass with a mere bow the he reflected now, have beaten, more or less, lady who was coming up it. she had, how- silently against the bars; the swiftness of her ever, no idea of being passed. she was one adaptation to the other life showed that. but of those privileged distant relations who had they had been very happy through it all. known gertrude and himself all their lives. sometimes—carroll scorned himself for the “you've been to see poor louise," she said, selfish thought-it seemed to him, they had firmly opposing his progress. “i thought been happier than now. then the vision of you'd be down as soon as you heard. i said, gertrude's brilliant delight in achievement whatever others might say, i'd never believe rose silently to accuse him, you would see an aunt that had brought you it must have come to her as a release from up and a cousin that had been a sister to you prison-a prison so narrow that he could not put on the streets.” everybody's magazine “there is not the slightest danger of such the man commuted with carroll daily, an emergency,” said carroll, stiffening.. and had often spoken admiringly of mrs. “well, i should hope not,” said the distant carroll to him afterward. he was soon relative, scrutinizing him with an eye that used to being congratulated upon gertrude's carroll felt took in the worn place on his coat cleverness, and if he was conscious of a grow- collar and his mended glove, and, for aught ing lack of response in himself, he was each he knew, correctly gauged the thinness of time ashamed of it. women rejoiced uni- his flannels. “after being such a worker as formly in their husbands' successes, why louise has been. how's gertrude? i al should a man be less magnanimous? ways say if ever a man was lucky in his once gertrude had insisted upon taking women folks, it's you.” them all for an outing to the maine woods. "a fact that nobody, i believe, appreciates “i wish my wife would take me," said an- so keenly as myself,” responded carroll, other of carroll's associates. raising his hat and passing with a skilful gertrude made a great jest of their reversed effort. relations on that occasion, and carroll af- he was annoyed with himself all the way fected to treat it with an equal humor. that home for being annoyed by an incident so the whole trip was distasteful to him, he set trivial, but it left him with a sense of soreness down as another proof of man's moral in- to which his wife's greeting was as a tingling feriority. of late, indeed, it had begun to plaster, applied before he had so much as occur to him, in the very sickness of his self- removed his overcoat. defense, that perhaps these things did not cost in the fervor of her maternal helpfulness, women quite so much-the opinion of man- she had, it appeared, bethought herself of kind concerning their independence not yet mrs. laybrooke, the wife of carroll's editorial having been cast in the mold of centuries. chief, a lady of wide social and philanthropic the man-unless he belonged to the four instincts, a kind of millionaire mother in hundred or to a foreign title-who traveled israel to clubs, causes, and individuals. they at his wife's expense, confessed himself but had had, carroll gathered, a heart-to-heart a poor creature in the eyes of other men. talk-he could see his wife in the very throb carroll had occasional encounters with those of it, retrospectively—and mrs. laybrooke eyes. he faced them with fortitude; it was had undertaken to arrange a course of local part of a long adjustment of the sex-relation; readings in her magnificent parlors. somebody must undergo these painful begin- “i knew she would be interested,” ger- nings—why not he? he would not have trude said, “because she feels as we do about abridged nor abated one jot of his wife's these things; she believes in a woman's help- successes; only-being mere man-he craved ing, and agrees with me that it is something inconsistently the respect of his fellow men. to be proud-not ashamed-of. i am proud he craved still more his own; and there of it; and sha'n't you be just a little proud were times when he had strangely to combat too—of my helping?" she asked, slipping an in himself the impression that gertrude was arm about her husband's neck, with that curi- doing it all. gertrude's spendings were ous little accent of reproach which so often always so decorative. it was she who took recalled carroll to his duty. them to the theatre, she who paid for the rare “i am always proud of you,” he answered. outings, she who embellished the house; it and it was true. it was only of himself that required an effort of the mind to realize the he was not proud. barren items of rent, groceries, plumbing, he could not have put an exact date to insurance, and the rest as equitable assets in this loss of self-pride, but he could follow back the balance. its process with an almost painful accuracy. and now it was so natural that she should gertrude had always been generous; all she pay the college expenses! yet nothing had had asked was to share her earnings with the ever cut carroll quite so deeply before. he family, and she had shared them resolutely, had the sensitive desire of the man who has determinedly, openly. one of her first per- not become all he intended, that his children formances had been to buy tickets for a at least should see in him the utmost that he famous actress's first night and take them all was. particularly in regard to nell. as to to the theatre, explaining to a neighbor whom his son, he had an instinctive trust that life they met on the car: . would somehow even up things; that man to “this is my party," with gay, frank pride. man, it would somehow come right; but he f part "what reason is there why i shouldn't do my part?" would have liked nell to be able to feel for him something of the same pride that ger- trude claimed so frankly. frankness, indeed, was gertrude's great quality. she had a way of taking into a bright confidence all their circle of friends; of buying carroll, for instance, coveted articles of pleasure or of utility, and laughingly ex- hibiting her purchases to their intimates with the explanation that as carroll never would buy things for himself, she must; or of gaily announcing at lunch, or dinner, or indiscreet tea-tables, that she had earned a hundred dollars the past week, or was going to earn two hundred the next. carroll had never felt impelled to tell any one what he was earning, but then it is true he was not earn- ing anything like a hundred dollars a week. neither was gertrude, as a permanent salary, but the impression left was commensurate. so with the children, she had a way of call- ing upon their recognition of her achievement, to which they responded with laughing ca- resses and praises. gertrude never looked more beatified than when her tall son, with an arm thrown round her, was merrily ex- alting her for “the very cleverest little mother in the world,” or nell, with both hands on her shoulders, was exhorting her not to be puffed up-to leave that to her children. she asked-and it was all she did ask of her husband and children in return for her lav- ished money and thoughts—their recognition of her worth to them; and the occasional hurt tone in her voice was a signal to which the whole family rallied with unconscious swiftness. carroll, therefore, was prepared for the expansion with which at dinner the family problem was laid before the family, together with gertrude's final exordium: “now, isn't it a good deal better to have a mother who can help you through college than one who can only make doughnuts?” “well, i should say!” laughed nelson. he took his mother's hand and squeezed it affectionately. gertrude beamed upon the little circle. “why need i go to college at all?" asked nell suddenly, who had sat silent. “because," said gertrude decisively, “you want to be a woman able to help your children some day, in your turn. your father and i," she nodded across at carroll, "have talked it all over and it is all arranged.” the very next day gertrude began prepara- tions for the reading-trip. she was using last season's gowns, but she took the edge off everybody's magazine pearance of a meanness like that. some- thing might show gertrude. meantime, he lived in a strained consciousness of those daily franknesses of hers, relieved only by a transient perception of the humors of the situation, its justice and its injustice, and the altogether curious femininity with which in the very act of proclaiming strict equality gertrude achieved superiority. it was almost a relief when she went away on the round of readings, from which the first fruits came back to him in a strange hand. carroll winced as he read the brief masculine note. at the request of mrs. carroll, who left some- what hurriedly, i forward the enclosed check. mrs. carroll left in excellent health and spirits, consider- ing the fatigues of the trip and readings. she has won cur heartiest admiration. truly yours, s. s. van ness. this by explaining gaily to every one why she was using them, why she would not afford a new one. all the little sacrifices, the post- poned house-furnishings, the foregone vaca- tions, she explained in the same way: “you see, this year i am sending my babies to college.” · that mrs. carroll was sending the children to college became one of the reverential facts of their suburb; it became a fact of almost oppressive magnitude to carroll himself; and it was only at rare moments that he wondered about this, that he was able to recall to him- self a past in which the sending of the children to college had been a fact so ordinary that nobody had paid any particular attention to it. a college man himself, why shouldn't carroll send his children to college? letting himself in with his latch-key one day, carroll was arrested by the sound of his wife's suave tones; he halted irresolutely on the door-rug. gertrude was just letting some one out. “yes," she was saying—and carroll's nerves quivered sensitively, for he knew that peculiar, intense tone of his wife's voice- “you see i must make at least that a month, and so—" she pushed aside the portière and carroll found himself face to face with mrs. laybrooke. "ah, it's you. i've just been telling mrs. laybrooke "-gertrude took him into the confidence with a smile—"why we have given up doing anything to the house this year; the children come first." carroll could only assent with rather a pale smile. he was not, however, surprised when his chief the next day congratulated him, with what carroll felt to be but faintly restrained irony of manner, upon his wife's prospects. he had brief impulses to explain to ger- trude that this kind of thing did not help him, that even frankness could be overdone, but a sure instinct withheld him. there was no aspect under which he could have presented it that would not have created in his wife's mind exactly the idea he dreaded above all. why shouldn't she be frank about her own affairs? she would have asked. wasn't it all true?— and why shouldn't a woman glory in doing her share?-above all, why shouldn't her hus- band glory in it too? had they not prin- ciples? of course, if he had any feeling- and here carroll invariably imaged the first dawning in his wife's eyes of a suspicion that he would never henceforth be able to exorcise. no, anything was preferable to even the ap- carroll had a rare moment of irritation. might not gertrude have taken the slight trouble to send the check herself and save him that particular pin-prick? he himself would have gone a good many blocks to send to her in like case. but then-he did her swift justice-it would never have occurred to gertrude that it was a pin-prick; he reflected, too, that she would probably have despised him if she could have known that it was one. moreover, the money was undeniably timely. in paying for his aunt's winter coal supply the day before, he had said to himself that there went nell's christmas furs, unless gertrude could buy them. gertrude bought most of the agreeable christmas presents. carroll had, at most, the somewhat inadequate sat- isfaction of feeing the janitor and the post- man. but then-gertrude loved to give. a second letter, from gertrude herself, announced her return in company with mrs. van ness, who was to winter in the eastern city and would pass her first night with them. nell would please have all in readiness. “she wants to meet you and the children,” gertrude wrote. carroll's sense of pleasure in this announce- ment was but feeble. he did not conceive gertrude's friends as altogether friendly to himself, especially—and this was curious- those who held most firmly to woman's duty to share man's labor; but he partly excused them; probably they had no grounds for think- ing he shared hers. he carried the letter to nell, where she sat reading in the front room. “in an even balance” “you'll do your best,” he said with a little “my dear,” he said gravely, "you are not smile, “for your mother.” he put out a hand quite fair. there is a difference. you must and stroked the pretty brown hair fondly. try to be just.” the girl's brows, which had come together “yes," said nell quietly, as if speaking to in gertrude's way, over the letter, lost their herself, "that is what i mean to be—just." frown. she looked up at carroll. she lifted her head again with that gesture “i shall do my best,” she said, "for you, which meant so many things, flung two arms father,” and carroll had a curious sense of about her father's neck, brushed his cheek shock in the way she said it. with two warm lips, and was gone. “there are not many mothers like yours," carroll stood where his daughter had left he began. him. in a few, incalculable moments, he was nell lifted her eyes again. . aware, the whole face of his universe had “are there many fathers like you?" she been changed for him. everything that had asked, and again carroll had that curious been wrong, his daughter with one touch of shock. her vigorous young hands had somehow made “millions and millions,” he answered, af- right; she had reconciled all antagonisms, fecting to turn it lightly. .“fa- thers who do things are in the common course, but mothers- besides,” he added with a brief sigh, "you know i couldn't do this thing for you, which your mother is doing.” “but you have done things always,” said nell, “done things and gone without things, and if you can't now it is be- cause of other things; and no- body has ever considered any of it in the least remarkable. but when mother does it—then it's wonderful!” there was an angry sternness in the young voice. “my dear!” carroll ex- claimed aghast, “it is wholly different!” “then if it is different, why do they pretend it is the same?” asked nell. she con- fronted him with an inexorable gaze—the more startling that she looked at him with ger- trude's eyes, not his—and car- roll remained like one electri- fied. the explosion of the traditional mine beneath his feet would have been a little thing in comparison. to see his own questionings reflected in his daugh- had renewed all her father's earlier faiths. ter's eyes was a stunning experience. the since nell—the next woman, understood, sweetness, the astonishment and the wonder would understand, the present became a thing of it held him dumb, till in the sudden realized of no importance, negligible wholly, a mere reversal of their spiritual position an immense matter of personal adjustment. carroll real- wave of loyalty toward his wife rose and sweptized with an intense relief that for himself, away all else. resolutely he pushed from him personally, there was no longer any sting or the cup his daughter's hand offered. trouble left. with an even intenser thanks- where for sixteen years he had spun out daily columns. you siet's make at least that a month." giving he realized that henceforth his only possible jealousy would be for gertrude; the only possible fear of injustice-for ger- trude. it was an extraordinary experience; one that went with him by day and by night and had lost nothing of its power over him when he went to meet his wife; it informed the last waiting moments on the platform with an impatient tenderness, and he consumed them in buying a little bunch of violets for her from the station florist. she stepped from the train radiant with renewed life. the trip had been for her one sequence of fresh interests, triumphs, pleas- ures; she had successfully accomplished her purpose and was overjoyed to be again with her husband and children. “poor will, you do look tired and thin!” she exclaimed, and carroll was able to assure her with truth that he had not felt so well in a long time. he listened, with an interest which this time had in it no effort, to her recounted triumphs, and smiled with their children over the fat pile of bills with which she more triumphantly crowned the tale. “there!” she exulted, "that means college! —a whole big, splendid year of opportunity for you two! we'll have a few beautiful days together, and then-off you go, to win your laurels!” “which means, making a wreath of them for you," said nelson teasingly. “you will look very well in a wreath, vain little mother!" he spread out two long hands till the fingers met behind her braids, and over her head he barriers shot a laughing glance at nell. the girl's eyes darkened suddenly. "don't, nelse!” she exclaimed, drawing away her brother's hands. “don't pull down mother's hair—such pretty hair!” she smoothed it softly with protecting gentleness. carroll caught with a pang the significance of the little scene. when gertrude, laughing at her tall son and daughter, looked across to him also with her unconscious, inveterate demand for tribute, he met it with instant, overflowing tenderness. there was an in- finite pathos in her unconsciousness. in this mood the coming of mrs. van ness was nothing to him. there might have been ten of her-if necessary, he felt he could have met them all with equanimity, even with enthusiasm, for gertrude's sake. their guest loomed upon him at the last moment before dinner merely as a vague mass of velvet out lined in lace, to which he gave his arm with the mild ceremony gertrude demanded. about the pretty dinner-table, the talk fell naturally upon the recent trip, and not unnaturally upon those portions in which gertrude had borne a becoming part, but carroll scarcely heard it. the one thing of which he was intensely conscious was neither the guest upon his right (although they did not often have a guest so distinguished), nelson's light-hearted sallies, nor gertrude's brilliant enjoyment of both, but the silent presence of his daughter at the end of the table farthest from him. his neighbor had addressed him twice before he leaned toward her with quick apology. “i was saying," she repeated in a low, pleasantly clear tone, “that we are not quite such strangers as we seem, mr. carroll. your aunt and i were school friends; perhaps you didn't know?” . carroll looked up in some surprise; for the first time he realized that it was a beautiful elderly lady who sat beside him. “no," he said, “i didn't know.” “i spent the afternoon with her—and louise," continued mrs. van ness easily. then out of a pair of expressively sweet and penetrating eyes she gave him a glance of liking. “on the whole, mr. carroll, i think it a piece of fortune you have a clever wife.” a gain carroll was caught unguarded. in the flash of wonder his sensitive face changed swiftly; then it changed again. he glanced across the table, where his wife sat between their children, and answered with quiet dig- nity: “it is indeed the fortune of my life.” barriers by theodosia garrison now who art thou, between me and my life, v my life that beckons me? “i am thy heritage. oh, young heart rife with hope and dreams and daring, let these be silent forever. i, who may not tire, with old arms bar the way to thy desire.” now who art thou between me and my life, my life that calls, that calls ? “i am thy duty. far from mirth or strife, a withered beldame shut within dull walls, i ask that service thou shalt not deny and my least plaints are thongs to hold thee by." now who art thou between me and my life, my life that cries for me? “i am thy love. in thy hand rests the knife that slays and sets thee free. mine are these feeble fingers at thy heart- strike if thou hast the courage, and depart.” the caballero's way by o. henry author of "cabbages and kings," "the four million," etc. illustrations by w. herbert dunton the cisco kid had killed six men in more knowledge of her man in her soft mélange of or less fair scrimmages, had murdered spanish and english. twice as many (mostly mexicans), and had one day the adjutant-general of the state, winged a larger number whom he modestly who is, ex-officio, commander of the ranger forbore to count. therefore a woman loved forces, wrote some sarcastic lines to captain him. duval of company x, stationed at laredo, the kid was twenty-five, looked twenty; relative to the serene and undisturbed exist- and a careful insurance company would have ence led by murderers and desperadoes in estimated the probable time of his demise the said captain's territory. at-say twenty-six. his habitat was any the captain turned the color of brick-dust where between the frio and the rio grande. under his tan and forwarded the letter, after he killed for the love of it-because he was adding a few comments, per ranger private quick-tempered—to avoid arrest-for his own bill adamson, to ranger lieutenant san- amusement-any reason that came to his dridge, camped at a water-hole on the nueces mind would suffice. he had escaped capture with a squad of five men in preservation of because he could shoot five-sixths of a second law and order. sooner than any sheriff or ranger in the serv- lieutenant sandridge turned a beautiful ice, and because he rode a speckled roan couleur de rose through his ordinary straw- horse that knew every cow-path in the mes berry complexion, tucked the letter in his quite and pear thickets from san antonio to hip-pocket, and chewed off the ends of his matamoras. gamboge mustache. tonia perez, the girl who loved the cisco the next morning he saddled his horse and kid, was half carmen, half madonna, and rode alone to the mexican settlement at the the rest-oh, yes, a woman who is half car lone wolf crossing of the frio, twenty miles men and half madonna can always be some- away. thing more—the rest, let us say, was hum- six feet two, blond as a viking, quiet as a ming-bird. she lived in a grass-roofed jacal deacon, dangerous as a machine gun, san- neur a little mexican settlement at the lone dridge moved among the jacals, patiently wolf crossing of the frio. with her lived a seeking news of the cisco kid. father or grandfather, a lineal aztec, some- far more than the law, the mexicans what less than a thousand years old, who dreaded the cold and certain vengeance of herded a hundred goats and lived in a con- the lone rider that the ranger sought. it had tinuous, drunken dream from drinking mes- been one of the kid's pastimes to shoot mex- cal. back of the jacal a tremendous forest icans "to see them kick": if he demanded of bristling pear, twenty feet high at its worst, from them moribund terpsichorean feats, crowded almost to its door. it was along the simply that he might be entertained, what bewildering maze of this spinous thicket that terrible and extreme penalties would be cer- the speckled roan would bring the kid to see tain to follow should they anger him! one his girl. and once, clinging like a lizard to and all they lounged with upturned palms the ridge-pole high up under the peaked grass and shrugging shoulders, filling the air with roof, he had heard tonia, with her madonna “quien sabes” and denials of the kid's ac- face and carmen beauty and humming-bird quaintance. soul, parley with the sheriff's posse, denying but there was a man named fink who kept the caballero's way a store at the crossing—a man of many na- tionalities, tongues, interests, and ways of thinking. “no use to ask them mexicans," he said to sandridge. “they're afraid to tell. this hombre they call the kid-goodall is his name, ain't it?-he's been in my store once or twice. i have an idea you might run across him at-but i guess i don't keer to say, my- self. i'm two seconds later in pulling a gun than i used to be, and the difference is worth thinking about. but this kid's got a half- mexican girl at the crossing that he comes to see. she lives in that jacal a hundred yards down the arroyo at the edge of the pear. maybe she—no, i don't suppose she would, but that jacal would be a good place to watch, anyway." sandridge rode down to the jacal of perez. the sun was low, and the broad shade of the blanket on the grass, already in a stupor from his mescal, and dreaming, perhaps, of the nights when he and pizarro touched glasses to their new world fortunes—so old his wrinkled face seemed to proclaim him to be. and in the door of the jacal stood tonia. and lieutenant sandridge sat in his saddle staring at her like a gannet agape at a sailorman. the cisco kid was a vain person, as all eminent and successful assassins are, and his bosom would have been ruffled had he known that at a simple exchange of glances two per- sons, in whose minds he had been looming large, suddenly abandoned (at least for the time) all thought of him. never before had tonia seen such a man as this. he seemed to be made of sunshine and blood-red tissue and clear weather. he seemed to illuminate the shadow of the pear whet denying knowledge of her man in her soft mÉlange of spanish and english. great pear thicket already covered the grass- thatched hut. the goats were enclosed for the night in a brush corral near by. a few kids walked the top of it, nibbling the chap- arral leaves. the old mexican lay upon a when he smiled, as though the sun were ris, ing again. the men she had known had been small and dark. even the kid, de- spite his achievements, was a stripling, no larger than herself, with black, straight hair everybody's magazine day. and a cold, marble face that chilled the noon- moodily shot up a saloon in a small cow vil- lage on quintana creek, killed the town mar- as for tonia, though she sends description shal (plugging him neatly in the center of his to the poorhouse, let her make a millionaire tin badge), and then rode away, morose and of your fancy. her blue-black hair, smoothly unsatisfied. no true artist is uplifted by divided in the middle and bound close to her shooting an aged man carrying an old-style head, and her large eyes full of the latin . bulldog. melancholy gave her the madonna touch. on his way the kid suddenly experienced her motions and air spoke of the concealed the yearning that all men feel when wrong- fire and the desire to charm that she had in- doing loses its keen edge of delight. he herited from the gitanas of the basque prov- yearned for the woman he loved to reassure ince. as for the humming-bird part of her, him that she was his in spite of it. he wanted that dwelt in her heart; you could not per- her to call his bloodthirstiness bravery and ceive it unless her bright red skirt and dark his cruelty devotion. he wanted tonia to blue blouse gave you a symbolic hint of the bring him water from the red jar under the vagarious bird. brush shelter, and tell him how the chivo was the newly lighted sun god asked for a thriving on the bottle. drink of water. tonia brought it from the the kid turned the speckled roan's head red jar hanging under the brush shelter. up the ten-mile pear flat that stretches along sandridge considered it necessary to dis the arroyo hondo until it ends at the lone mount so as to lessen the trouble of her wolf crossing of the frio. the roan whick- ministrations. ered; for he had a sense of locality and direc- i play no spy; nor do i assume to master tion equal to that of a belt-line street-car the thoughts of any human heart; but i as horse; and he knew he would be soon nib- sert, by the chronicler's right, that before bling the rich mesquite grass at the end of a a quarter of an hour had sped, sandridge was forty-foot stake-rope while ulysses rested his teaching her how to plait a six-strand raw- head in circe's straw-roofed hut. hide stake-rope, and tonia had explained to more weird and lonesome than the journey him that were it not for her little english of an amazonian explorer is the ride of one book that the peripatetic padre had given through a texas pear flat. with dismal her and the little crippled chivo, that she fed monotony and startling variety the uncanny from a bottle, she would be very, very lonely and multiform shapes of the cacti lift their indeed. twisted trunks and fat, bristly hands to en- which leads to a suspicion that the kid's cumber the way. the demon plant, appear- fences needed repairing, and that the adju ing to live without soil or rain, seems to tant-general's sarcasm had fallen upon un- taunt the parched traveler with its lush gray- productive soil. greenness. it warps itself a thousand times in his camp by the water-hole lieutenant about what look to be open and inviting sandridge announced and reiterated his in- paths, only to lure the rider into blind and tention either of causing the cisco kid to impassable spine-defended “bottoms of the nibble the black loam of the frio country bag,” leaving him to retreat if he can, with prairies or of hauling him before a judge the points of the compass whirling in his and jury. that sounded business-like. twice head. a week herode over to the lone wolf crossing to be lost in the pear is to die almost the of the frio, and directed tonia's slim, slightly death of the thief on the cross, pierced by lemon-tinted fingers among the intricacies of nails and with grotesque shapes of all the the slowly growing lariata. a six-strand fiends hovering about. plait is hard to learn and easy to teach. but it was not so with the kid and his the ranger knew that he might find the mount. winding, twisting, circling, tracing kid there at any visit. he kept his arma the most fantastic and bewildering trail ever ment ready, and had a frequent eve for the picked out, the good roan lessened the dis- pear thicket at the rear of the jacal. thus tance to the lone wolf crossing with every he might bring down the kite and the hum- coil and turn that he made. ming-bird with one stone. while they fared the kid sang. he knew while the sunny-haired ornithologist was but one tune and sang it, as he knew but one pursuing his studies, the cisco kid was also code and lived it and but one girl and loved attending to his professional duties. he her. he was a single-minded man of con- the caballero's way ventional ideas. he had a voice like a co- began to talk of their love; and in the yote with bronchitis, but whenever he chose still july afternoon every word they uttered to sing his song he sang it. it was a con- reached the ears of the kid. ventional song of the camps and trail, run- “remember, then," said tonia, "you ning at its beginning as near as may be to must not come again until i send for you. these words: soon he will be here. a vaquero at the tienda said to-day he saw him on the guada- don't you monkey with my lulu girl or i'll tell you what i'll do- lupe three days ago. when he is that near he always comes. if he comes and finds and so on. the roan was inured to it, and you here he will kill you. so, for my sake, did not mind. you must come no more until i send you the but even the poorest singer will, after a word.” certain time, gain his own consent to refrain “all right,” said the ranger. “and then from contributing to the world's noises. so what?” the kid, by the time he was within a mile or “and then," said the girl, "you must bring two of tonia's jacal, had reluctantly allowed your men here and kill him. if not, he will his song to die away-not because his vocal kill you." performance had become less charming to his “he ain't a man to surrender, that's sure,” own ears, but because his laryngeal muscles said sandridge. “it's kill or be killed for were aweary. the officer that goes up against mr. cisco the officer tha as though he were in a circus ring the kid.” speckled roan wheeled and danced through “he must die," said the girl. “other- the labyrinth of pear until at length his rider wise there will not be any peace in the world knew by certain landmarks that the lone for thee and me. he has killed many. let wolf crossing was close at hand. then, him so die. bring your men, and give him where the pear was thinner, he caught sight no chance to escape.” of the grass roof of the jacal and the hack- “you used to think right much of him," berry tree on the edge of the arroyo. a few said sandridge. yards farther the kid stopped the roan and tonia dropped the lariat, twisted herself gazed intently through the prickly openings. around, and curved a lemon-tinted arm over then he dismounted, dropped the roan's the ranger's shoulder. reins, and proceeded on foot, stooping and “but then,” she murmured in liquid span- silent, like an indian. the roan, knowing ish, “i had not beheld thee, thou great, red his part, stood still, making no sound. mountain of a man! and thou art kind and the kid crept noiselessly to the very edge good as well as strong. could one choose of the pear thicket and reconnoitered between him, knowing thee? let him die; for then i the leaves of a clump of cactus. will not be filled with fear by day and night ten yards from his hiding-place, in the lest he hurt thee or me.” shade of the jacal, sat his tonia calmly plait “how will i know when he comes?” asked ing a rawhide lariat. so far she might surely sandridge. escape condemnation; women have been “when he comes,” said tonia, “he re- known, from time to time, to engage in more mains two days, sometimes three. gregorio, mischievous occupations. but if all must be the small son of old luisa, the lavandera, told, there is to be added that her head re- has a swift pony. i will write a letter to thee posed against the broad and comfortable and send it by him, saying how it will be best chest of a tall red-and-yellow man, and that to come upon him. by gregorio will the his arm was about her, guiding her nimble letter come. and bring many men with small fingers that required so many lessons thee, and have much care, oh, dear red one, at the intricate six-strand plait. for the rattlesnake is not quicker to strike sandridge glanced quickly at the dark mass than is 'el chivato,'as they call him, to send of pear when he heard a slight squeaking a ball from his pistola." sound that was not altogether unfamiliar. “the kid's handy with his gun, sure a gun-scabbard will make that sound when enough,” admitted sandridge, “but when i one grasps the handle of a six-shooter sud- come for him i shall come alone. i'll get denly. but the sound was not repeated; and him by myself or not at all. the cap wrote tonia's fingers needed close attention. one or two things to me that make me want and then, in the shadow of death, they to do the trick without any help. you let me everybody's magazine know when mr. kid arrives, and i'll do the besides his marksmanship the kid had an- rest." other attribute for which he admired himself "i will send you the message by the boy, greatly. he was muy caballero, as the mexi- gregorio," said the girl. “i knew you were cans express it, where the ladies were con- braver than that small slayer of men who cerned. for them he had always gentle never smiles. how could i ever have thought words and consideration. he could not have i cared for him?” spoken a harsh word to a woman. he might it was time for the ranger to ride back to ruthlessly slay their husbands and brothers, his camp on the water-hole. before he but he could not have laid the weight of a mounted his horse he raised the slight form finger in anger upon a woman. wherefore of tonia with one arm high from the earth many of that interesting division of humanity for a parting salute. the drowsy stillness of who had come under the spell of his polite- the torpid summer air still lay thick upon the ness declared their disbelief in the stories dreaming afternoon. the smoke from the circulated about mr. kid. one shouldn't fire in the jacal, where the frijoles blubbered believe everything one heard, they said. in the iron pot, rose straight as a plumb-line when confronted by their indignant men above the clay-daubed chimney. no sound folk with proof of the caballero's deeds of in- or movement disturbed the serenity of the famy, they said maybe he had been driven dense pear thicket ten yards away. to it, and that he knew how to treat a lady, when the form of sandridge had disap- anyhow. peared, loping his big dun down the steep considering this extremely courteous idio- banks of the frio crossing, the kid crept back syncrasy of the kid and the pride that he to his own horse, mounted him, and rode took in it, one can perceive that the solution back along the tortuous trail he had come of the problem that was presented to him but not far. he stopped and waited in by what he saw and heard from his hiding- the silent depths of the pear until half an place in the pear that afternoon (at least as hour had passed. and then tonia heard to one of the actors) must have been obscured the high, untrue notes of his unmusical sing- by difficulties. and yet one could not think ing coming nearer and nearer; and she ran to of the kid overlooking little matters of that the edge of the pear to meet him. the kid seldom smiled; but he smiled and at the end of the short twilight they gath- waved his hat when he saw her. he dis- ered around a supper of frijoles, goat steaks, mounted, and his girl sprang into his arms. canned peaches, and coffee, by the light of a the kid looked at her fondly. his thick lantern in the jacal. afterward, the ances- black hair clung to his head like a wrinkled tor, his flock corralled, smoked a cigarette mat. the meeting brought a slight ripple of and became a mummy in a gray blanket. some undercurrent of feeling to his smooth, tonia washed the few dishes while the kid dark face that was usually as motionless as a dried them with the flour-sacking towel. her clay mask. eyes shone; she chatted volubly of the incon- “how's my girl?” he asked, holding her sequent happenings of her small world since close. the kid's last visit; it was as all his other “sick of waiting so long for you, dear one,” home-comings had been. she answered. “my eyes are dim with al- then outside tonia swung in a grass ham- ways gazing into that devil's pincushion mock with her guitar and sang sad canciones through which you come. and i can see de amor. into it such a little way, too. but you are “do you love me just the same, old girl?” here, beloved one, and i will not scold. que asked the kid, hunting for his cigarette mal muchacho! not to come to see your alma papers. more often. go in and rest, and let me "always the same, little one,” said tonia, water your horse and stake him with the long her dark eyes lingering upon him. rope. there is cool water in the jar for you.” “i must go over to fink's," said the kid, the kid kissed her affectionately. rising, "for some tobacco. i thought i had “not if the court knows itself do i let a another sack in my coat. i'll be back in a lady stake my horse for me,” said he. “but quarter of an hour.” if you'll run in, chica, and throw a pot of “hasten,” said tonia. “and tell me- coffee together while i attend to the caballo, how long shall i call you my own this time? i'll be a good deal obliged.” will you be gone again to-morrow, leaving kind. herbert-dunian women have been known to engage in more mischievous occupations. everybody's magazine me to grieve, or will you be longer with your the brown mantilla over the head, and thus ride tonia ?” away. but before that he says i must put on his clothes, his pantalones and camisa and hat, and ride “oh, i might stay two or three days this away on his horse from the jacal as far as the big trip," said the kid, yawning. “i've been road beyond the crossing and back again. this before on the dodge for a month, and i'd like to he goes, so he can tell if i am true and if men are rest up.” hidden to shoot him. it is a terrible thing. an hour before daybreak this is to be. come, my dear one, and he was gone half an hour for his tobacco. kill this man and take me for your tonia. do not when he returned tonia was still lying in try to take hold of him alive, but kill him quickly. the hammock. knowing all, you should do that. you must come "it's funny,” said the kid, “how i feel. long before the time and hide yourself in the little shed near the jacal where the wagon and saddles are i feel like there was somebody lying behind kept. it is dark in there. he will wear my red every bush and tree waiting to shoot me. i skirt and blue waist and brown mantilla. i send never had mullygrubs like them before. you a hundred kisses. come surely and shoot maybe it's one of them presumptions i've quickly and straight. thine own tonia. got half a notion to light out in the morning before day. the guadalupe country is sandridge quickly explained to his men the burning up about that old dutchman i official part of the missive. the rangers plugged down there." protested against his going alone. “you're not afraid-no one could make “i'll get him easy enough,” said the my brave little one fear." lieutenant. “the girl's got him trapped. "well, i haven't been usually regarded as and don't ever think he'll get the drop on a jack-rabbit when it comes to scrapping; me.” but i don't want a posse smoking me out sandridge saddled his horse and rode to when i'm in your jacal. somebody might the lone wolf crossing. he tied his big get hurt that oughtn't to.” dun in a clump of brush on the arroyo, took “remain with your tonia; no one will find his winchester from its scabbard, and care- you here." fully approached the perez jacal. there the kid looked keenly into the shadows was only the half of a high moon drifted over up and down the arroyo and toward the dim by ragged, milk-white gulf clouds. lights of the mexican village. the wagon-shed was an excellent place "i'll see how it looks later on," was his for ambush; and the ranger got inside it decision. safely. in the black shadow of the brush shelter in front of the jacal he could see a at midnight a horseman rode into the horse tied and hear him impatiently pawing rangers' camp, blazing his way by noisy the hard-trodden earth. “hallos” to indicate a pacific mission. san- he waited almost an hour before two fig- dridge and one or two others turned out to ures came out of the jacal. one, in men's investigate the row. the rider announced clothes, quickly mounted the horse and gal- himself to be domingo sales, from the lone loped past the wagon-shed toward the cross- wolf crossing. he bore a letter for señor ing and village. and then the other figure, sandridge. old luisa, the lavandera, had in skirt, waist, and mantilla over its head, persuaded him to bring it, he said, her son stepped out into the faint moonlight, gazing gregorio being too ill of a fever to ride. after the rider. sandridge thought he would sandridge lighted the camp lantern and take his chance then before tonia rode back. read the letter. these were its words: he fancied she might not care to see it. “throw up your hands,” he ordered loud- dear one: he has come. hardly had you ridden ly. stepping out of the wagon-shed with his away when he came out of the pear. when he first talked he said he would stay three days or more. winchester at his shoulder. then as it grew later he was like a wolf or a fox, and there was a quick turn of the figure, but walked about without rest, looking and listening. no movement to obey, so the ranger pumped soon he said he must leave before daylight when it in the bullets--one--two-three-and then is darkest and stillest. and then he seemed to sus- pect that i be not true to him. he looked at me so twice more; for you never could be too sure strange that i am frightened. i swear to him that of bringing down the cisco kid. there was i love him, his own tonia. last of all he said i no danger of missing at ten paces, even in must prove to him i am true. he thinks that even that even that half moonlight that half moonlight. now men are waiting to kill him as he rides from my house. to escape he says he will dress in my the old ancestor, asleep on his blanket, clothes, my red skirt and the blue waist i wear and was awakened by the shots. listening fur- the cat ther, he heard a great cry from some man in mortal distress or anguish, and rose up grumbling at the disturbing ways of moderns. the tall, red ghost of a man burst into the jacal, reaching one hand, shaking like a tule reed, for the lantern hanging on its nail. the other spread a letter on the table. “look at this letter, perez," cried the man. “who wrote it?” “ah, dios! it is señor sandridge,” mum- bled the old man, approaching. “pues, señor, that letter was written by 'el chivato, as he is called-by the man of tonia. they say he is a bad man; i do not know. while tonia slept he wrote the letter and sent it by this old hand of mine to domingo sales to be brought to you. is there anything wrong in the letter? i am very old; and i did not know. valgame dios! it is a very foolish world; and there is nothing in the house to drink-nothing to drink.” just then all that sandridge could think of to do was to go outside and throw himself face downward in the dust by the side of his humming-bird, of whom not a feather flut- tered. he was not a caballero by instinct, and he could not understand the niceties of revenge. a mile away the rider who had ridden past the wagon-shed struck up a harsh, untuneful song, the words of which began: don't you monkey with my lulu girl, or i'll tell you what i'll do- the cat by arthur colton the cat believes that she can sing like bobolinks in june; she sticks to this like anything, she hankers for a tune; the lyric joys that in her throng, she takes them for the gift of song. i wish that she would put aside this vanity from her; i wish she might be satisfied to purr, and only purr, seeking no operatic fame, quiet, domestic, void of blame. zna s the giant dry dock dewey waiting to enter the suez canal. the suez canal by charles edward russell author of "soldiers of the common good," etc. dort said, baking in the sun: a sandy, t sizzling, raucous place, compact of all the tribes and redolent of all the evil smells of earth. alongside the coal-barges, great and dirty-a thousand of the maniacs of four brown nations shrieking and dancing over the coal; on the other side a massed flotilla of petty pirates; in an ill-conditioned boat, charg- ing the pirates, a squad of the red-fezzed and white - jacketed policemen of his debilitate majesty, the khedive of egypt; clouds of coal-dust to offend the eye, and a babylo- nian horror of gabbling tongues to stun the senses and weary the soul. and above all this seething tumult and mad revel of con- fusion stands forth the serene image of or- der, system, of cold, calculating, relentless method, the colossal statue of ferdinand de lesseps. so you go from the west into the east; out of the european world into the asiatic; and that statue, imperturbable before the gateway, marks the dividing line. on this side you are in your own country; on the other the thin silver cord of the great canal stretches out over the yellow desert to alien things and peoples. you look up at the statue, as below on the steamer you slide by at quarter speed, and in some occult way the calm, masterful face, the long, strong jaw, the pose of command and authority, touch the easy springs of racial pride. below are the squalling hordes of asia; above the reserve and strength of the caucasian; and the essence of the contrast is good to taste. here is the race that does things, your race and mine; here is effi- ciency against inefficiency; power and con- centration against ineptitude; and that, you tell yourself, is the story of the suez canal. from the clouds of dust and the shrieking bedlam, you, making terms with a petty pirate, flee to the shore to wander the sandy streets, and watch the human kaleidoscope turning and turning beneath your eye. arabs, egyp- tians, turks, syrians, greeks, italians, rus- sians, frenchmen, germans, english are in that mass, with anthropological odds and ends unidentified. the street signs are a study in polyglot; men lie and steal and gamble in all the tongues from babel; and the variety of costume makes you think of something stagey and theatrical until you hit upon the exact - the suez canal word your mind has been groping for to proper antithesis to the howling wretches on describe all this-vaudeville. port said is the barges, a proper complement to the beau- a kind of vaudeville; it is the show place of tiful statue. between lies port said. when nations. the arab sheiks, white-turbaned, the canal days dawned, the company built it tall, austere of countenance, lithe of step, to house the vast army of workmen while seem placed on show for your delectation; the alive and to serve as a convenient pit to gaudily attired water-seller seems a fantastic throw them into when dead. it has thriven impostor; the parsee money-changer appeals mightily since; for to all the vast trade of the to you as a piece of stage setting, and the red boundless east it holds the door, and takes fezzes seem donned for the occasion. but tribute. it began as a charnel-house; it will two things are genuine enough to any appre- end as one of the great cities of earth; and hension: the hot dry wind of the desert that if the sands whereon it is built could speak, strikes with a material impact on your face, they might tell awful tales. and the incessant bawling of the men that but now in the manner of our kind we swarm about you offering to be guides. and think of no such thing. all night the steamer these drive you in the end to a café on the lies at port said, while the café orchestras shore where you can sit, and from a safe blare and the roulette wheels turn; and in the distance watch the maniacs and the eddying morning, with the clear dry air sweeping in life of the water-front. from the desert, the sky full of the bewilder- the sun slants westerly, and the maniacs ing wealth of far mediterranean color, you break into a chant, the whole mad gang are carried past the straggling town, past the singing together as they pass up the coal company's beautiful white office into the very in baskets hidden in a choking nimbus of canal itself; for so far you have been in but coal-dust. it is one of the primeval tunes the artificial harbor at its mouth. this of asia. i have heard the same thing in the ditch, feet wide, feet deep, cut straight streets of canton. there are four notes in for league upon league through level desert it-maybe five-and the maniacs sing it hours or banked across shallow lagoons-how sim- together while they pass up the coal. as ple it seems when you think of culebra cut for the words, heaven knows what they are, and the manifold terrors of panama! you can for the four nations speak four different stand on the forecastle head and the banks tongues and each maniac screams in his own meet in front of you and again far behind, so vernacular, but all to the same tune-more straight it is. but for the passing-station or less. and all the while the foremen or every five miles, with its little house and drivers or bosses or whatever they may be, cluster of palms and telegraph signal, and with blows and oaths incessantly drive the maybe a waiting steamer, there is no change workers onward. broad - nosed negroes, in the dead uniformity. arabs, egyptians, and syrians are in that anything that has steam must be passed gang. you remember, doubtless, the pictures at a passing-station; there is no room in the from the old egyptian temple walls, the canal. but the native boats, the arab slender, bare men with a strap about the dhows, lateen-rigged, manned by naked loins and a strange cylindrical head-dress that brown and black men, you may pass any- made their heads seem projected far back- where, provided you stop your engines long ward, their strange lips and strange eyes? enough to let them go by. your steamer there they are, shoveling coal on that barge, may move six miles an hour through the the same loin-cloth, the same strange cylin- canal, but at no faster rate. the dhows drical head-dress, the same thin, naked bodies.' pitch mightily in your swell, threatened with thirty centuries have passed over earth sooner disaster against the near-by banks; but the than the habits of one race. these are the brown, naked men care naught, and only sit men that built the pyramids; with such drivers in the sun and stare. and such blows and such misery of hopeless lo, where the sand insatiate drinks toil. and now they coal the r.m.s. mol- the steady splendor of the air- davia at the entrance to the suez canal. down at the other end of your panorama, you say; for all about is flat desert. and away from europe, down toward the desert leaning over the rail, staring at the flat, yel- and the silver canal line, is the great, glorious low, glaring expanse, you are aware that the office-building of the canal company, white lady next to you is talking. stone, glittering in the sun, very imposing, a “henry, dear,” she says (not to you; to everybody's magazine her husband), "just see how fresh and cool those trees look out in that sand!” you look, too, and the trees certainly do seem wonderfully fresh and sweet, and you wonder at them in such a place. before them is an expanse of water, and that looks fresh and sweet also; but strange in a way you cannot define. and presently, as you gaze, trees and water vanish, and where they were is only the sand insatiate and the steady splendor of the air. it was naught but mi- rage; reappearing and vanishing wherever you look, until you are not sure whether even the sand itself, the stretches of smooth, oily la- goons, or the very camel trains be real but to the camel trains, indeed, you may swear with full assurance, for by the might of these, and the bawling boys that drive them, and the brown laborers, and the great black reptiles of dredges here and there, you use the canal or have a canal to use. the great insistent problem of suez is the sand and the wind that forever blows and blows it into the canal. but for endless toil and sleepless vigilance the ditch would fill up. such was the fate that overtook its prede- cessors. for this is no nineteenth-century nor european project, as a matter of fact, but a thing two thousand years old, or more. then from the time of the moors, in the ninth century, down to fifty years ago there was no canal, and all the huge traffic to the orient came and went by the cape of good hope. some time when we are celebrating the sur passing wisdom of the caucasian mind, let us put this in: the ancients cut the isthmus; we went around the cape, taking six months, to get to india. i read the other day that some- where in england there is a monument in memory of lieutenant waghorn of the british army. one monument!-to the man that first drove into the british intelligence the fact that, canal or no canal, the cape of good hope route was not necessary. his idea was to steam to alexandria, carry the passengers, mails, and freight overland to suez, and reembark them on the red sea. it was so simple and obvious that any child with a map could have hit upon it; but waghorn hammered for years at the british government before he could get any- body to listen to him. at last, he was gra- ciously allowed to see what he could do, and in he got letters from london to bombay in thirty days. when that fact had sufficiently permeated safety, sanity and conservatism, the waghorn route was adopted—for the mails. so moves the world. the demonstration that the thirty-day plan was feasible gradually centered attention upon a certain mad french- man, ceaselessly shouting about his canal project; the great indian revolution of showed the british public that quick transit was more desirable than conservatism, and so at last de lesseps raised his money and began to dig sand and kill fellahs. the dredges scoop from the bottom of the canal the blown-in sand and dump it along the shore; the camel trains bring up rocks and supplies for the army of workmen that must toil always to keep this highway clear. egyp- tians and arabs are the workmen, scotchmen the engineers, naked savage boys the camel- drivers, clinging with one hand to the first camel's tail and with the other beating the beast ceaselessly. one boy manages eight or ten camels, tethered in a string—their loads on their backs. when the steamer comes, invariably he drops the tail to which he has been holding and races along the shore screaming for bakshish and revealing to the interested passengers the amazing extent of his professional skill in picturesque profanity. that other and narrower stream to star- board there is the fresh-water canal built to supply port said and the laborers while the suez was being built. it reaches up toward the nile somewhere. close beyond it is the embankment of the railroad from port said to cairo, along which american-built locomo- tives flip the swift express trains past the slow- ly moving steamers. and still farther are the endless lagoons and dreary sands. that is the scenery. more monotonous country is not known to man, but from every steamer the passengers study the prospect with un- flagging interest. the hot sands stretch far away, unvaried, unrelieved, the air radiates visibly from their blistering surface, the sun burns madly in a sky of perfect violet, the whole thing is tiresome, but you watch every mile of the way and think it too short. be- cause here is the work of man's hands that has done most to further trade and bind to- gether peoples and to contract the round earth to the hollow of your hand. in the mid-afternoon you pass the place where the great caravan track to cairo crosses, and maybe, if you are lucky, there is a caravan, trains of camels heavily laden, black negroes, and the arab on his horse-not very different from his pictures; dirty, maybe, but always a respectable-looking figure. no towns, no villages, and, except for the passing-stations, no human habitations; un- “the palms and stations are done in silver, and the shores seem strangely unreal." everybody's magazine less by some assault upon speech you can call the distance is traversed through the bitter those things human habitations wherein, back lakes, where there is ample room and good of the station-houses, the brown men live, water and the chief below hooks up the en- where the savage women are always cooking gines to full speed; but all the canal proper before a fire, and the savage children are al- is traversed at quarter speed or less to save ways swarming about. at the first turn, at the banks from being washed clean away. lake temsah, in the late afternoon there is a soon the picturesque passing-stations will glimpse of the town of ismailia far away, but be of time gone by and will no more delay the steamer no more than slackens her speed steamers; for the company has undertaken to to change pilots, with the pilot boat steaming widen the entire canal until two vessels can alongside, and plunges between the sandy anywhere pass in it. then the speed limit walls again. may possibly be raised and the time of pas- sunset is the supernal glory of the suez day sage be shortened. even now the work of -a mediterranean sunset intensified; redder widening is well in hand. easily enough the reds, more vivid saffrons, a more gorgeous company can afford the great though expen- and intoxicating riot of colors, against which sive improvement, for the profits are goodly. the palms of a passing-station are painted in the receipts were $ , , —that with a sudden stroke likely to take away your is all. for a passage through the canal the breath. and when, in the excellent phrase charges are francs centimes ($ . ) a ton of the old roman, night rushes in from the for vessels and francs centimes ($. ) for ocean, and the great search-light on the bow each passenger. the profits are such that turns its flood up the canal, there are other sur- they pay seven per cent. to the stockholders prises. then the palms and the passing-sta- after numerous fixed charges have been met. tions are all done in silver and the shores seem among the odd items of the charges are a pay- strangely unreal; and all the ship's company ment to the employees of two per cent. of the gathers on the forecastle or on the forward net earnings and another of ten per cent to the promenade to watch this memorable pageant. board of managing directors, of whom there you do the ninety-nine miles of the canal are fifteen, six being french and six british. in about seventeen hours if you are not held by the crowning triumph of the wily dis- up anywhere at a passing-station. part of raeli's career, the government of great brit- the statue of de lesseps at pori said. "the maniacs of four brown nations shrieking and dancing over the coal." year tons , .......... ..... ain in became the principal owner of and results of suez, the next greatest canal in the canal. quietly and without asking the the world, in what it cost in money and human permission of parliament, disraeli bought for lives and human suffering, and what it has $ , , the entire holdings of the khe- meant for the world; for these things indicate dive of egypt. at once arose a mighty howl what may be ahead for us. of protest by indignant britons, for england first, about the results to the world; here is had always looked askance upon the canal. an outline of the business that the suez canal but disraeli bought the stock, and the brit- has done: ish government has ever since raked off the number goodly profits and held its ownership as a fees of ships secret menace against the world's commerce. all the nations of europe have solemnly ....... agreed that the canal is to be open to all .... , ships at all times, and all the nations know , , , $ , , ..... , , , , , that the british government might seize the , i , , , , whole thing if it chose. ..... , , , , , we are about to go heavily into the canal business as builders and operators. the tonnage task we have undertaken is the most colossal (of its kind) in history. compared with the difficulties at panama the difficulties at suez seem trifling. instead of the dead levels and british.. , , , , easy sand of suez, panama presents terrific german.... , , , rock cuttings and puzzling problems in en- french..... , , italian....... , , gineering; instead of a fairly healthful climate, , , panama has malarias and deadly pestilences. various........ , , here, then, is something for us in the records . ... dutch “but for the passing-station, there is no change in the dead uniformity." the suez canal in , , persons were passengers through the canal. this is an analysis of the tonnage that year: country vessels gross tonnage , great britain.... germany..... france...... holland.. austria... italy.... russia....... norway........ spain...... denmark....... turkey........ united states.... greece....... japan... egypt..... belgium... sweden. portugal... chile......... total......... , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , one of those dirty, slovenly tubs that go lime- juicing around the world, and she managed to sink herself in the canal about twenty miles from port said. to have a steamer sunk in a -foot channel is bad; but this was worse, for the inconsiderate chatham had on board tons of dynamite. no contractor would essay the task of raising her; no diver would go down into the hold. so while the engineers deliberated traffic stopped, for no steamer could pass the obstruction. for eleven days the embargo lasted, and the ships accumulated at each end of the canal, until shipping stuck out from the port said break- water into the mediterranean and from suez down the red sea. bitter cries went up from all the commercial world because of shipments delayed and dealings paralyzed. in a moment it was revealed that the suez canal was the main artery of the huge oriental commerce, vital to the interests of millions upon millions of men. at last the engi- neers were forced to act. so they tenderly sent down batteries and more dynamite into ... "to all the vast trade of the boundless east, port said holds the door." but you could pile up the figures without end and give no idea of the real value of the thing. no one in this generation glimpsed what it meant until the affair of the chatham it takes an object lesson like that to drive into these heads of ours almost any simple fact the chatham was a common english tramp, the sunken chatham and touched the whole thing off. t he roar of the terrific explosion was heard in port said and beyond. and the chatham —where was she? splinters of her covered the area of a western county. and about half a mile of the canal bank she took with everybody's magazine her. but the canal was cleared, the ships who describes the first of these enterprises, resumed their several ways and the com- and it must have been so when darius mercial world rejoiced. it had learned what completed the work, when the romans the canal really means to mankind. repaired it, when the galleys of cleopatra it ought to mean much, for it cost enough. sailed through it, when the moors of the to say that every spadeful dug from it was ninth century, to whom we owe the founda- soaked with human blood were hardly an ex- tions of our science, maintained here a aggeration. in that region of earth human canal eighty miles long and by it passed from blood has always been cheaper than water. the red sea to the mediterranean. in the the enormous mail from the occident to the orient is handledat port said. more monuments than that to ferdinand de lesseps symbolize this great work and the others are not less significant because they are unseen. one of them is to the huge unprofit and huge cruelty of cheap labor. many an- other such monument has been built on this same spot in this same fashion. the history of all these canals has probably been written in blood, and though all the letters are now effaced, the message is still understandable. such is the clear intimation of herodotus, intervals between successive waves of civili- zation the desert winds invariably filled all these works with sand. when napoleon visited egypt his discerning mind saw at a glance the immense importance of such a canal, and he ordered it to be dug; but having many people to kill, went off about that more important matter and forgot the other. then came and de lesseps, who chiefly re- vived the plans of the ancients. most of the wise modern world, and chiefly the suez canal england, thought de lesseps insane, and mind. he instantly ordered the whole labor declared the scheme to be utterly impossible. system abolished, broke up the camps, and one of the many curiosities of their conten- sent the laborers home. tion was their childlike faith in the doctrine now invention and progress are the prod- that the level of the red sea was feet ucts of high-paid labor. so far the canal had higher than the level of the mediterranean. been dug by hand, the earth being brought no man may say now where this fantastic up in rude baskets. but when slave labor was notion was bred; but somebody asserted it abolished the contractors were obliged to sup- and everybody believed it, and used it to ply steam machinery. in ten months , bowl over de lesseps. so the french had cheap laborers had removed only , , to go ahead and build the canal themselves cubic metres of material. the steam ma- with the assistance of mohammed said, vice- chinery and the paid labor did more than that roy of egypt, who was a clever ruler and an in one month. some europeans came and intellectual beast. earning by piece-work $ to $ . a day, the viceroy undertook to furnish the labor, pushed the canal toward completion. yet or most of it, and that was where the evil came to the end the state of the native laborer in. de lesseps is dead; let us charitably continued to be deplorable. for the slave- suppose that he was never aware of all the driver was substituted the contractor's boss; horrors that followed. the viceroy's method for forced labor a small wage. but the of obtaining labor was to send to an egyp- deaths were many and the bones accumu- tian village, seize all the fellahs, or serfs, tie lated in the sand-pits. how will it be at their hands, put ropes about their necks, and panama ? march them off to the canal, into which they in the thing was done. in money were driven by armed guards, and where they it had cost for construction close to $ ,- labored under the lash until they dropped , . the first estimate, made by a sol- dead. emn conclave of expert engineers, was $ ,- of how many were slain, there is no record. , . the time consumed was about we have tacitly agreed in modern government twice as long as was estimated. and the to the suppressing of disagreeable details. canal was dug with far more slaughter than how many persons perish of famine in mis- ten ordinary battles cause. ruled and plundered india? how many yes, the colossal statue of ferdinand de natives are slain at kimberley? what are our lesseps symbolizes the caucasian order, meth- death-lists at panama? but search among the od and success; also other things. european dusty and neglected suez reports shows this, self-sufficiency, for instance, that we praise at least, that the mortality was frightful. ourselves for doing what the half-savage peo- the digging of the canal began april , . ples did many ages ago. also our exceeding by the complaints about the slaughter great competence, that it took us so long to of the serfs had made such an impression begin to do what was not only obvious but that observant and kind-hearted men began merely imitative. and, above all, our hu- to protest. the british government, which manity and intelligence, that we should cele- at first had insisted that only slaves should brate with joy a work done so badly and be employed on the work, now demanded an bloodily, so clumsily and stupidly. it is a investigation. the sultan went in person. great statue; it fills us all with pride and he found the men dying like flies. not only happiness, but with all its beauties it seems were they killed in the ditch (under the lash) to lack something. perhaps the deficiency but the mecca pilgrims had kindly intro- would be supplied if we were to erect by duced cholera in the camps and the victims the side of it another statue of the same size died faster than they could be buried. the representing a scrawny and naked fellah dig- sultan was not noted for humane or gener- ging under the lash. for, after all, that seems ous feelings, but the horror of the situation to tell more truly than the other the story of made an impression upon even his obtuse the suez canal. oso ano te lurching, groaning, discordantly protesting, with a full gale behind her, she flew onward. -" the adventurer." the adventurer by lloyd osbourne joint author with robert louis stevenson of “the wrecker" and “ the ebb-tide"; author of "motormaniacs," “ baby bullet," etc. illustration by l. a. shafer synopsis of previous instalments.-lewis kirkpatrick, by nature a wanderer and adventurer, is stranded in london-only a few shillings in his pocket, and all his outfit lost in the selling up of his landlady's goods. hunting gloomily through the newspaper “want" columns, he comes upon a singular advertisement, signed “desperate enterprise," calling for well-educated young men inured to hardship and danger. kirk applies; and after an anxious, hungry wait, receives an answer appointing an interview with a man wearing a green tie, at a vienna bakery. arrived there, he finds a mr. smith, who puts him through a stiff examination, assures him of a favorable report, and fixes the time and place for a second meeting. on the following morning, friday, kirk presents himself at the designated house, where he passes a severe medical examination and, as the third test, receives a hundred-pound note, which he is to return intact on monday afternoon. having sewed the note into his waistcoat, he settles for the night on a park bench, for he has less than two shillings to live on. here he falls asleep and is attacked by thieves, who kick him into insensibility just as the police arrive. he regains conscious- ness on sunday in a hospital, and finds that his clothes have been given by mistake to a discharged patient named betts. he at once seeks out betts and bullies him into confessing that he had found the note and had spent eight pounds of it, which he could not repay. kirk forces him to give up the remainder, and then, desperate under the necessity of completing the amount, finally makes an appeal to homer kittredge, the literary lion of london, who willingly provides the money. triumphant, kirk returns to mr. smith and is given a ticket to a port in the west indies, but no clue to the nature of the “desperate enterprise." indeed, it is not until the day after reaching port-of-spain that he receives directions to proceed up the orinoco. on the same boat with him is a miss west- brook whom kirk had seen, disguised as a housemaid, at mr. smith's. shortly after sailing she speaks to him, begging his protection, and letting him understand that she is in some way connected with the mystery. an inti- mate comradeship, soon deepening to love on kirk's part, is established between them, and lasts and lasts throughout the long journey by boat and wagon into the heart of south america. they are not separated until their arrival, on a dark night, at their destination, a sort of military camp called felicidad. before dawn, kirk is up investigating, and at length finds out part of the long-guarded secret. for he comes upon an enormous, but uncompleted, land- ship, built of aluminum, and evidently designed to traverse the vast south american savannas. at the mess-tent, he is given a description of all the leaders. the ship, he learns, is the property of a queer old american woman, and the inventor is vera westbrook's father. in the afternoon while kirk is working with the others on the ship, vera and her father appear. at mr. westbrook's invitation, kirk calls that evening at their tent, chapter xiii (continued) “papa is furious with me! i've had an awful time. i've been crying all day!” era rose, and ran over to kirk with out- “my poor darling!” stretched hands. she had realized his “hush, you mustn't say that. you mustn't mortification, his forlornness, his dejection. even think it to yourself. don't you see how it was an impulsive moment of sympathy, terrible my eyes are—all swelled up and red? of girlish tenderness, of sweet concern for her i was embarrassed every time you looked poor lover. kirk took her hands, and their at me. i kept my head sideways all i could.” touch transported him into a sort of heaven. kirk said she had exaggerated; that they he forgot the curves, the coefficients, even were the prettiest, brightest, starriest eyes- the interruption that had made a tête-à-tête “but no, listen." possible. he drew her down beside him on “i'm listening." the sofa. he bent over and kissed her warm “i've done a dreadful thing in coming out. round arm. she tried to free herself, but he papa's at his wits' end. he can't send me clung to her hands and kissed them passion- back, and he can't leave me here, and he ately, stopping only when she threatened to swears he won't take me along. i'm a little go back to her former place. white elephant-and-and-i'm glad of it. “no, you must be good,” she said, glowing o mr. kirkpatrick, he is so ill, so changed and trembling in an exquisite distress. “i —that it breaks my heart. i'm trying to per- didn't mean that at all-only i felt so sorry suade him to throw it all up and go home at for you, and wanted you to forget. what a once. but he is so obstinate, so wilful. in poor silly stupid you are! besides, i wanted england he didn't take the ship so seriously. to be pitied too. i'm in disgrace!” he used to laugh at it even when he was “disgrace?” working at the plans. it was a sort of toy everybody's magazine to him. he and i used to play for hours in the attic, fanning little land-ships along the floor, and laughing like children. but now it's all different. he's absolutely absorbed in the idea. and you can see yourself how ill he is. but he won't listen to a word of reason; he is going to sail in that ship if it kills him. that's where the inventor comes in, i suppose. his pride, his honor are in- volved-and an insane jealousy that grudges the glory to anybody else. he invented the fortuna, he built it—and he has to go, too! he says that's his reward, and that he would not forfeit it for anything in the world; that it would look cowardly to turn back now, as though he had not the courage of his own convictions." she broke off, and began to cry, rolling her handkerchief into a little ball, and dabbing her eyes with it. kirk tried in vain to say something comforting. “it's just this,” she went on. “either i go with him, sharing the risks and taking care of him-or we go home together di- rectly. i have told him that a hundred times, and i'm going to stick to it. he's the only father i have, and i think he owes it to me to take care of himself. don't you think he does? surely one's only child is more im- portant than a ship? but it's terrible to argue with him when he is so ill and broken. yet i have to. for his own sake i must- " “can't you get the others to help you?” “the others! that's the worst of it. they would be only too glad to get rid of him -captain jackson and mrs. hitchcock, that is. the captain's only idea is to marry the old lady, and return home—while as for her, she is so fussy and dictatorial that there is a constant clash between her and papa. she interferes in everything, and demands all sorts of impossibilities in spite of the agreement that papa was to be responsible for the ship, and was to have a free hand. but papa is too shrewd to be tricked, and he fights every inch of his ground, though it tells on him horribly, and jangles his nerves all to pieces.” “but there is von zedtwitz.” “the doctor! it's all papa can do to keep him tractable under the constant nag- ging he gets from those two. he isn't any help at all. and he's the most important man of all, you know-as he is the originator of the expedition, and holds the secret. if we lost him we should not know where to sail to. and that's what captain jackson wants, to goad him and insult him till he finally throws it all up in disgust. oh, it's an awful tangle, and if papa weren't papa, i'd want him to stick right here, and force the project through. but since he's my father his health comes first, and i would willingly see every- thing go to pieces-gladly see it-just to get him away. but he won't look at it in that light. i can see his side of it-but he can't see mine. i have to admit this, and this, and this—while he admits nothing. oh, dear, oh, dear, i'm the most miserable person in the whole world!” “god knows, i wish i could help you,” said kirk. she looked at him, her eyes shining with tears. “i know you would if you could,” she ex- claimed, with a gratitude that he felt was un- deserved. “you are a great consolation to me. i haven't any one but you. you-you can understand.” they drew apart as they heard mr. west- brook's step outside. he entered, looking very white and perturbed, and threw himself wearily into a chair. but he answered vera's questioning glance in a voice that he at- tempted to make easy and unconcerned. “it's all right-all right-my dear,” he said. “i smoothed him down. i made him laugh at himself. he won't murder anybody to-night. he is a great big honest child, with all of a child's, resentment of chicanery and injustice. but if they go on treating him like a dog, somebody will end by getting bitten.” kirk rose and said he ought to be going; but to his surprise mr. westbrook demurred, and pressed him, with some insistence, to stay a little longer. "i'd like to show you the plans of the for- tuna,” he said. “vera, get them out of the other tent; they are in the long canister be- side my bed.” kirk sat down again, com- plimented, and not a little surprised. he was in a state of exultation, his head whirling with intoxicating recollections that he tried to piece together into some coher- ency. he hardly knew how much he had gained. he was dizzy with wonder, with rapture. mr. westbrook spoke to him, and he spoke to mr. westbrook. what they spoke about he scarcely knew. he saw the old man, benignant and courteous, through a sort of mist, and he awoke to reality only when vera returned. the canister was opened, and a roll of the adventurer blue prints was taken from it. the prints were large and unwieldy. it was not easy to spread them out, and the corners had to be weighted down with books. the table was not big enough, and so the floor was used, mr. westbrook leaning forward in his chair while kirk and vera knelt at his feet. their hands met more than once, and parted re- luctantly. kirk's interest in the plans was genuinely unaffected. there was the for- tuna as she was going to be, and for the first time he grasped the design as a whole. everything was carried out to the last detail, with a precision and foresight that delighted him. there was something very reassuring to him in the sight of those plans, elevations, and working drawings. the fortuna, at least, was not the child of a haphazard en- thusiasm, built conjecturally; nothing had been left to chance. she had been evolved by a man of a trained mechanical mind, whose name in itself was a guarantee of scientific perfection. kirk was outspoken in his admiration. he had no intention of flattering mr. westbrook, and his sincerity was too transparent to be questioned. but the old man was keenly alive to the praise, and his manner thawed and grew increasingly cordial as kirk pored over the plans, and expressed his extreme satis- faction with them. when at last they were rolled up and put back in the canister, kirk could not but feel that he had advanced in mr. westbrook's opinion. he shook hands with vera and said good night. but mr. westbrook got his hat, and said that he would come too-part of the way. “i'd like to have a little talk with you,” he said. “i may not have another opportunity. there are several things, mr. kirkpatrick, that-that-" he did not finish the sen- tence. he seemed confused and at a loss how to proceed, fumbling at the shawl vera placed about his shoulders. he led the way out in silence, while vera, standing in the shadow of the threshold, looked after them until they disappeared in the darkness. "that is a very reassuring fact," continued westbrook. “it makes it much easier for us to come to an understanding." kirk wondered what he meant, but for- bore to ask. “my daughter has done a very foolish thing in coming out here. it was a wild and impulsive action, which was to some extent justified by the news of my illness reaching her, in spite of my precautions. i am hor- rified, less at what she has done than at what she has escaped. it was a most reck- less and desperate proceeding-and it makes my blood run cold even to think of it. she has told me a great deal about yourself- about your kindness, your extreme consid- eration, your vigilance and chivalry. but as a man of the world i probably appreciate all that even more than she does. you have put me under a great obligation. and this sense of obligation makes it difficult for me to go on. i hesitate to risk offending a man for whom i have so strong a regard. you will forgive me if i speak plainly?” “why, certainly,” said kirk, not a little mystified. “proceed, by all means." “my daughter has unconsciously placed herself in a very ambiguous position-a very cruel position, mr. kirkpatrick, though, of course, i have kept the knowledge from her. it is largely in your power to stop gossip and chatter, and in appealing to you i feel that i am appealing to a man of honor. by your conduct she will be judged. do you under- stand?”. “well, no,” said kirk, “i don't. frank- ly, i don't.” “well, it is just this, mr. kirkpatrick. these people here will have you both under a microscope. they will misconstrue your friendship with her. malice and envy are rife here, as they are everywhere. does it not suggest itself to you to make some sacrifice for my daughter's sake? to govern yourself so as to nullify all criticism?” “by doing what?”. “nothing! i mean by staying away from us—by not calling-by losing yourself among the others, and tacitly adopting their attitude. in this way the gossip will soon be silenced, especially if you are reserved and careful in your speech. is it too much to ask?” kirk's fairy castle was tumbling about his ears. “does it not occur to you," he asked, "that her-miss westbrook’s-feelings may be wounded? that she may feel slighted by chapter xiv “there are several things i wish to tell you,” said the old man, "and the first is that i think you are an uncommonly nice fellow." “thank you," returned kirk, not without misgiving at so strange and unexpected a preface. everybody's magazine the course you have outlined for me? are you not making me appear very rude? you are good enough to put the favor on my side -but it is really the other way about. i've led a rough life, mr. westbrook, and her kindness has meant a great deal to me. i value it exceedingly. i cannot do anything that would lose me her good opinion.” “do you think that i ought to tell her of this request?” “oh, you must." “then the other is agreed?" kirk assented sadly.' “i would do anything for her, mr. west- brook—anything except to seem to wound her. it is a great blow to me. i was foolish enough to-to-" he broke off. west- brook pretended not to notice his agitation. the old fellow had a pretty clear idea as to how matters stood, and was more than dis- pleased. he had fully determined, should he fail to carry his point, to throw over every thing and return with his daughter to eng- land. it was a hateful alternative, but he felt that he had no choice. this affair had to be nipped in the bud, and if kirk had proved recalcitrant, the moltke would have slipped her moorings on the morrow with the westbrooks on board. dear as the for- tuna was to the old man, his daughter was dearer, and he knew the folly of temporizing. —and long silent evenings that he chose to pass alone, far out on the prairie with no companionship but the stars. he saw vera often, but had never spoken to her since that night in her father's tent. every day she visited the ship, and smiled at him as she passed on her rounds with her father-a ten- der smile, full of vague messages for him, compassionate and beautiful, and mutely ap- pealing. she had grown paler, more sub- dued, and her eyes, as they sought his, had a curious pathos that haunted him long after she had gone. her father's prohibition had been hard to bear, and kirk felt a somber satisfaction in the thought that he was not the only one to suffer. the ship was progressing rapidly toward completion. the main deck was almost habitable. doors and windows were in. bunks, shelves, tables, lockers, racks, and other such details were taxing the energies of the carpenter's staff. the commissary department, under the direction of mr. mc- cann, the paymaster, was arranging for the ship's equipment, and was accumulating mountains of stores beside her. the upper deck was now trim and smart. four west- brook quick-firers, using service ammu- nition, were in position, two forward and two aft, in steel shields. the chart-room below the bridge was a miniature arsenal, the walls lined with martini-henrys and pasteboard boxes containing , rounds of ammunition visible through wire screens. the galley was being finished and painted; a light wire rail was in process of construc- tion around the ship; the companionways, accommodation-ladders, etc., were receiving their finishing touches. every one was animated with the thought that sailing-day was fast approaching. the talk ran constantly on the absorbing theme of how many men were to be taken, and how many left at felicidad. it got about that the number to embark would be about fifty-five. including the sick, there were more than twice that number in camp, and a weeding- out process was inevitable. the thought of it caused no little anxiety and distress. no- body wanted to stay behind. st. aubyn man- aged to fool the doctor and get back on the active list. he was very shaky and ill, and had shivering spells when his teeth would chatter like castanets—but with indomitable courage he stuck to work, in the hope that his ill health would be overlooked and that he would be taken. he said at last. “you appreciate that, i hope. you have an honest face—an honest voice. there is such a thing as keeping the letter of an agreement and violating the spirit. but i am taking it for granted that you're too sincere and too manly to be un worthy of my confidence.” “no, no, that's all right," said kirk. “you've convinced me. i was a fool ever to think otherwise. it's the only thing to do, and-and-i'll do it!” they shook hands under the starlight, and then separated. westbrook slowly returned to his tent, not a little relieved at the success of his endeavors. kirk dejectedly sought his cot, and lay half the night with wide-open eyes, in such a turmoil of longing and wretch- edness that sleep was out of the question. he had won, and he had lost-and now it was all over. he had chained himself with promises, and the future was black indeed. the succeeding days were filled with hard and exhausting work, periodically relieved glare, heat, clang, and sweat-noisy meals the adventurer there were many conjectures as to the beale, like all sea-lawyers, was as suscepti- appointment of officers and petty officers. ble to flattery as a schoolgirl. kirk was every one was in the dark as to the selection, willing to play him to the top of his bent, for and it became a subject of constant bick- the fellow had a tremendous potentiality for ering. it was often suggested, with much mischief. the occasion seemed to justify intemperance of language, that officers ought dissimulation. to be chosen by vote, and the question of “the great thing is to get started,” kirk leaders thus left to the men who furnished continued. “let's subordinate everything to the bone and sinew of the expedition. that, old man. a rumpus just now would indeed, it did not escape kirk that there be fatal. we couldn't spite jackson more was a very wide-spread feeling of unrest and than by acting like lambs. don't you see, dissatisfaction in the ranks of the fortunas, old boy, that he would jump at the chance as the men called themselves. a fault- of backing out-would welcome it? mrs. finding spirit was engendered by jackson's hitchcock would side with him—and then dictatorial manners and exasperating petty where should we be?” tyrannies; and as with all mobs, demagogues “there's old westbrook,” said beale. arose to organize personal parties and fan the “westbrook and zedtwitz. why shouldn't flames. the most noticeable of these was a they carry it on-the pair of them?” fellow named beale, a lanky australian, with "it's the old lady's money, you know." a most wonderful vocabulary of vituperation. “westbrook has barrels of his own." he was a passed master in his nefarious “but i doubt whether he would consent business, and got together a very substantial to assume the outlay already made. think following. it was he who suggested the what all this must have cost! she would be vote—with the evident intention of heading too vindictive to make him a present of it. the ticket. this undercurrent of politics the ship's her property, beale. don't for- and wire-pulling was very distasteful to get that.” kirk. he foresaw fresh difficulties and fresh “there's something in that,” assented complications. when all, as he knew, was beale. “but my stars, kirk, it galls me to trembling in the balance, it seemed a shame have jackson put in all his little pets to strut to provoke further troubles, which, so far the quarter-deck and domineer over us. from thwarting jackson, would be likely to there's haines now, bragging as how he's aid him in his desire to wreck the expedition to be first officer. the pasty-faced little in port. squirt, i'd like to take him by the scruff of the kirk said this to beale very plainly when neck and break his back. and the other one day the plausible australian drew him favorites and toadies, all promoted and brass- to one side and attempted to enlist him in bound, while we'll have to pulley-haul their the ranks of the rebels. beale was no fool, dirty ropes, and 'sir' them, and take their in spite of his officiousness and conceit, and tomfool orders!” kirk was surprised at the impression he man- kirk knew haines, and disliked him pro- aged to make on him. in fact, kirk turned foundly. he was an ex-yacht officer of the the tables completely, and in a quiet way funky species, who aped the supercilious lectured beale severely. manners of the class he had served; a drawl- “what do you want to do?” he demanded. ing red-headed nincompoop, with irritating “kill the expedition and send us all home airs and graces. kirk's face showed his dis- whipped out? that's a fine idea, isn't it- gust at such a creature being put over them. because you don't like the coffee, and have “i care for haines as little as you do,” he discovered jackson to be forty different kinds admitted, “but the only right thing is to obey of a wild ass? i tell you, beale, we fellows orders and go ahead.” on the lower deck ought to pull together and the australian ruminated. show a good spirit. it's to our interest to do “well, i'll go slow, anyhow," he said, with it. what are we to gain by upsetting the unexpected submission. “that's the sense of apple-cart? now see here, the boys all look talking things over beforehand. they aren't up to you, and go a good deal by what you all as cool as you are, kirkpatrick. but say. this is a mighty critical moment in you're right-you're right. it's no good our affairs, and it rests with you more than burning down the factory to spite the owners, you think to make or mar the whole expe- is it? well, we'll see," and he walked off, dition.” looking thoughtful. everybody's magazine apparently he had taken part of kirk's who in the least way satisfied it-except warning to heart. at any rate, there was less haines, and a few other particular pets—the whispering and muttering in corners, and swollen old fellow warmed to him mightily. beale's name was more seldom mentioned. it made kirk feel a good deal of a hypocrite. kirk was uneasy, nevertheless, and de- but he was human, too; and he slightly bated with himself whether he ought not to modified some of his first opinions. report the conversation to westbrook. but he little realized to what all this was tend- he hesitated to add this new weight of trouble ing. one day, as he stood to attention in to the old man's already overheavy burdens, front of jackson's desk, the latter laid his and determined that he would wait until hand on a closely written list of names with a later on to put him on his guard. humorous pretense of screening them from during these concluding days of the for- view. tuna's preparation, there occurred another in- “no peeping,” he exclaimed. “this is a cident that demands attention. occasional state paper!” ly in the course of their work, questions arose kirk smiled vaguely. he did not know that required a reference to captain jackson. what the joke was, but it was discipline to this was the more necessary as the captain look amused. seldom visited the ship, except after hours. “you might happen to see your own the disinclination of the crew to rise and name," went on the captain, pompously jocu- stand at attention as he passed was the lar. “oh, yes—and in a good place, i can reason for his keeping aloof. he attached tell you. i am making up the list of officers, an inordinate value to this formality, and petty officers, and leading seamen!” after repeated failures to enforce it with kirk's heart gave a bound. he could tell man-of-war rigidity, he had at length retired by the captain's air that he had been marked from the contest in disgust. there was a out for promotion. for the first time he general tendency, from crawshaw down, to realized that jackson's good-will might mean shirk the task of carrying him messages, and substantial favors. strange to say, it had submitting to his overbearing and insulting not occurred to him before that he was a manners. kirk, as a newcomer, was slyly "pet.” victimized by the little engineer; and as the “you're very good, sir," he said. “i-i former made no objection he gradually be- —had no anticipation of this. i looked for came the messenger between the mechanical nothing better than not being left behind.” staff and their majestic commander. often “kirkpatrick,” said the captain senten- he had to beard the lion in his den three or tiously, “the man who learns to take orders four times in the course of one day. is qualifying himself to give them. when now kirk was as little in love with jackson this is made public i fancy you will be sur- as was anybody else, but he was free from the prised.” vanity of considering himself degraded by “thank you, sir,” said kirk. obeying his superior's orders. privately, he thought it silly to make such mountains of kirk kept this wonderful piece of intelli- fuss over trifles; but he was there to do what gence to himself. he hardly knew what to he was told, and for the time being to sub- hope for. he shrank from setting his am- ordinate himself to the will of others. be- bition too high, dreading to disappoint him- sides that, being a gentleman, it was natural self. what he wanted, of course, was to be for him to be polite, even to people that he near vera; to have the privilege of addressing did not like. her; to share, however humbly, the life of the it all led to the extraordinary result of the after-guard. quartermaster, gunner, boat- captain's taking a fancy to him. his majes- swain, storekeeper-he ran over all the possi- ty unbent. his majesty, accustomed to a bilities repeatedly with an anxious particu- great deal of veiled insolence and a very per- larity. functory deference, appreciated the genuine- at length the time came for all these teas- ness of kirk's courtesy. he was insufferably ing speculations to be set at rest. one blaz- vain and arrogant—but very human. he ing noon, as they were tramping back to grew to like kirk's open face, his agreeable dinner, they were diverted by a great paper voice, and his alert, respectful manner. poster, six feet by four, that had made an here was his man-of-war ideal, and as kirk unexpected appearance in front of the head- was the only one of a hundred and eighteen quarters tent. here was the list for all to the adventurer read, in big black letters an inch high. it the hope of being taken. he had counted was instantly surrounded by a jostling throng, on it with all of a sick man's stubbornness pushing and shoving to get close to it. there and irrationality. and now the decree had was a confused hum of voices—of ejacula- 'gone forth, and he was condemned to remain tions, jeers, protests, and growling notes of behind! disappointment and chagrin. kirk elbowed . his way in. he was in the throes of an chapter xv overmastering excitement. he dared not ask what he had been given. he expected every three days later the fortuna was ready instant that some one would call out: “say, to start. her enormous and varied cargo kirk! you're one of the quartermasters"-or was all on board. her water-tanks were whatever it was. on some of the returning full. her accommodations were complete faces he seemed to detect a savage resent for the fifty-five human beings who com- ment against himself-envy, anger, contempt. prised her officers, passengers, and crew. on but perhaps that was only fancy. he got the upper deck, lashed securely in place, were closer and closer. the letters were swim- a pair of spare wheels, several spare axles, and ming before him, obscured by shoulders and a dozen spare springs of gigantic proportions heads. what if his name were not there at -all by way of reserve in case of accident all? no, that was incredible—had not jack to the trucks on which the fabric of the son said ? ship was supported. in addition to this ah, here it was! unwieldy mass, there were forty specially constructed bamboo-cages, compactly and land-ship fortuna. powerfully built, which were intended, in con- junction with jacks, to be used in making directing council: mrs. poul-' repairs to the sustaining mechanism. the teney hitchcock, mr. ezra h. weight of the ship could be thrown on these westbrook, dr. c. von zedt- hollow dice while axles and wheels were re- moved, or broken springs were replaced. witz. abaft the foremast were two large automo- captain, horatio h. b. jackson. biles, also lashed to the deck, about which there was as much conjecture and chatter as first officer, percy haines. there was about the mysterious purpose of the expedition itself. they were big french cars, second officer, lewis kirkpat with an unusually high clearance, and racing rick. bodies. they presented an incongruous ap- pearance in a scene so wild and strange-so kirk got no further. “second officer, lewis emphatic an emblem of civilization in a say- kirkpatrick. second officer, lewis kirkpat- age landscape as trackless as the sea. what rick.” in his wildest imaginings he had never was their purpose? were they to serve as soared so high. it put him in the cabin-in life-boats in case of need? the means of the aristocracy of the after-guard-made him getting news back in the event of disaster? one of those glorified beings who might meet t hese perplexing questions were answered vera westbrook on terms almost of equality. by a phrase that was fast becoming a com- he might sit by her side, speak to her with monplace: out reproach, share her radiant companion- “well, we shall soon know now!” ship. kirk was dazed with delight. he was aroused only by the sight of st. aubyn's tuesday, the day set for their departure, thin, screwed-up, woebegone face. broke stormy and threatening. the barom- “oh, chum,” he exclaimed, “they've gone eter had been steadily going down, and the and left me out! i'm not to go at all. i've prolonged spell of good weather had come got to stay in this rotten hole, and kick myto a sudden end. the wind was whistling heels while you fellows sail away!” through the rigging of the fortuna with the kirk attempted to comfort him, but there strength of a rising gale, and the loosened was not much that could be said. st. aubyn sails bellied and thundered in the blast. it was pitiably upset. it had cost him agony had been intended to make something of a to keep at work, but there was heroic stuff gala of that momentous morning — with in the fellow, and he had been sustained by speeches, the firing of salutes, and the dress- everybody's magazine ing of the ship in flags. at the right moment, “j. henshaw!" amid cheers and salvos, she was majestic “here!” ally to move away, dipping her ensign in a “c. t. hildebrand!” stately farewell as she rolled south on her “here!” perilous voyage. “thomas mackay!” the reality, however, was sadly different. “here!” the wind had veered into the north and and so it proceeded, amid the rush and was blowing great guns. squall after squall thunder of the gale, the ship shaking under rose black to windward, and burst over the the repeated buffets, and the men steadying ship in torrential downpours of rain. every- themselves by the shrouds and backstays. thing was wet and cold and dripping, and the it was a stirring sight—the storm-tossed hair, lash of the storm fell mercilessly on the oil- the brawny arms folded across herculean skinned figures clustered about the decks. chests, the bronzed and bearded faces, the felicidad was half under water, and a dozen unflinching eyes, the universal look of hardi- tents had been blown down, with the prom- hood, recklessness, and courage. here were ise of more to follow. to leeward there no boys, no graybeards, no weaklings. all were incessant flashes of sheet-lightning, zig- were tried and seasoned men in the very zagging the horizon with streaks of fire. flower of their age—broad-shouldered, deep- everything was in confusion. inevitable chested, muscular, and stalwart—the pick of occasions for delay cropped up at the last ten thousand. no ship afloat ever had carried moment. no one was very sure, indeed, a finer crew. the pride of leadership surged that the attempt would be made at all. within kirk. he vowed that he would show the captain sulked in his cabin, his dignity himself worthy of his promotion, and earn insulted by some unguarded word of west- the respect and confidence of his erstwhile brook's. emissaries of peace moved back comrades. and forth, arguing, explaining, smoothing the captain was on the bridge, speaking- down. kirk, in raincoat and sou'wester, trumpet in hand. at his right stood haines. paced up and down the bridge, waiting im- behind them, well out of the way, were west- patiently for orders. the gale was in their brook, mrs. hitchcock, vera, mccann, dr. favor, and he grudged every minute that held phillips, and von zedtwitz-six black, cling- them back. ing figures in mackintoshes. there was ex- beside the ship was the melancholy, be- pectancy on every face-anxiety, excitement, draggled group of those who had to remain foreboding. at last the fortuna was to be behind. soaked to the skin, bunched to- tried, and that under adverse and dangerous gether for protection, the sick and ailing sit- conditions. was she, after all, a gigantic ting on packing-cases in sullen defiance of the folly—a preposterous conception, doomed to doctor's orders to remain in camp—they pre- the most mortifying of failures? a few min- sented a picture of misery and desolation utes would determine. not easily to be described. in vain they were “i have to report that the roll is called, told to go back, and try to keep their town sir, and that all hands answered their names." from blowing into space. they listened apa- “very good, mr. kirkpatrick. get the thetically and shook their heads. the only gangway up, and lash it.” luxury that remained to them was disobedi- “very good, sir.” ence. they stuck together like sheep, and for the first time jackson was beginning passively defied the speaking-trumpet. they to show to advantage. he seemed to put by were determined to see the last of the for- that meaner self—that touchy, cross-grained, tuna, to share at least in her departure, even half-hearted jackson that they had learned if felicidad were laid flat. to know and hate—and asserted a side of his a quartermaster mounted the bridge, bear- nature that had hitherto been unsuspected. ing a paper in his hand. standing there on the bridge, conspicuous “captain's orders, sir—you're to call the and masterful, he dominated the situation; roll, hoist in the gangway, and see all clear his commanding figure, his harsh and inci- forward." sive voice, his cool, resourceful air-all in- kirk went forward and roused the fore- spired confidence, and compelled some of his castle. the men came pouring up, and bitterest enemies to an unwilling admiration. grouped themselves about him, joined by the fortuna lay in a fairly good position the cooks and stewards from the ship's waist. for the start. it had not been thought nec- the adventurer essary to kedge her round to make a fair and was likely to rip free and fly away. at wind of the gale. it was blowing enough every gust kirk thought to see the last of it. abaſt the beam to insure her against capsiz- but it was new and stout, and held firmly to ing; and once she was moving she could eas- the bolt-ropes. then to his amazement the ily be set on a better course. that is, if she deck beneath him began to shake and pitch. did move. by george, they were moving! bump, bump, seven men were sent aft to the wheel-six bump—with men slipping and staggering all to steer, and the seventh to be in speaking- about him. but he had no time to look tube communication with the foretop and over the weather-rail. his eves were fixed the bridge. haines was despatched aloft on the captain. he steadied himself against with a couple of hands to con the ship. the mast. kirk was engaged in taking treble reefs in "pull, you beggars, pull!” he roared, as the foresail and foretopsail-no easy matter, the long cue of men flopped over, and the for the loosened sails were caught by the sheet slackened in their hands. he ran in gale, and beat furiously as the men strug- among them himself, and laid his own weight gled with them. the silk was new and to the rope. four or five others jumped to coarse, and the wet had made it like sheet help him. everyone was shouting and steel. it was only by taking advantage of laughing with exultation. kirk had a mo- every lull that the task was at last accom- mentary view of the flat wet prairie speeding plished. the captain bellowed to them again by-pools of muddy water—the diminishing and again through his speaking-trumpet to crowd behind, waving their caps. make haste. the windward sky was black- “that will do, mr. kirkpatrick!” ening with another squall, and he was im “make her fast, boys! now, you lubbers, patient to get away before it could burst. what are you doing with that sheet? here, “all ready, sir!" yelled kirk. like this!” “man the foretopsail-halyards!” then, at last, he was at liberty to see what “sheet home! hoist away!” was going on. the sails shook and thundered. reeling across the deck he attained the “tend the braces! vast hoisting! belay! shrouds, and sprang up the ratlines. yes, man the jib-halyards! clear away the down- indeed, she was moving! her ponderous haul! hoist away! belay!” wheels were sending up a spray of mud and the topsail threatened to blow itself out earth, and every time the great hull dipped of the bolt-ropes. it seemed incredible that by the head there was a slush as of some it could withstand the terrific strain. the mighty automobile a thousand times magni- fortuna did not move an inch; but her fied. under that press of sail the fortuna wheels, deeply rutted in the soft earth, quiv- pounded on with a wild and lumbering ve- ered with a sort of life. the vast fabric locity that brought the heart to the mouth. creaked, and the backstays tautened omi lurching, groaning, discordantly protesting nously. it was a moment of suspense, of ag- in every part of her fabric, and with a full ony. something had to give. kirk held his gale behind her, she few onward with an breath, and waited for the topsail to split to indescribable jarring and bumping that ribbons. seemed at every instant to threaten her de- “quick with the foresail! up with her, struction. braced against the rigging, hold- mr. kirkpatrick!” ing on for dear life, kirk had the startling thirty men laid hold of the throat- and sensation of scudding over the prairie. as peak-halyards, and hoisted the sail with a the squall burst the fortuna freshened her rush. the boom crashed to leeward. the pace, and dashed before it, amid rain and sail reverberated deafeningly, drowning for a lightning, at a speed so terrific that there time even the gale itself. up, up it went went up a cry to shorten sail. but the cap- with a lusty yo-heave-oh. the throat-hal- tain, swaying on the bridge, and searching yards were belayed. the loose peak was the lee horizon ahead with his glass, held on lashing to and fro, spilling and filling with a undismayed. furious noise. it was stubbornly conquered, behind them were the tents of felicidad, and got into position. fitfully seen and half lost again in the murk “haul aft the fore-sheet!” and gloom. the poor deserted fellows had the sail resisted, giving way only inch by shrunk to mere specks. one of them was inch. it carried the weight of the storm, waving a tiny flag on a stick--the only at- everybody's magazine tempt to celebrate in any way the departure of disaster-a hoarse and fitful murmur-as of the fortuna. a pitiful leave-taking, though any moment they might tear them- that widow's mite of bunting—hardly more selves free. jackson, with the speaking- than a striped and gaudy handkerchief. trumpet to his lips, attempted in vain to make but the sight of it struck a responsive chord himself heard above the storm. hardly a in the captain's bosom. he raised the word could be understood. but his con- speaking-trumpet to his lips. vulsed face and gesticulating hand showed “mr. kirkpatrick ?” that something was amiss. he gave the “yes, sir!" trumpet to one of the men clinging to the rail “break out the ensign at the main!” beside him, and made unmistakable gestures kirk bellowed a repetition of the order. a to take in sail. quartermaster staggered aft to get the flag kirk slipped down the rigging, and routed from the chart-room rack. another cleared out his men from the nooks where they had the signal-halyards. the little ball went up taken shelter. he let fly the foretopsail- swiftly and jerkily, all eyes watching it. halyards, and allowed the sail to beat and then, as it reached the truck, it was broken thunder while he applied himself to getting and blew out its vivid colors to the storm. down the foresail. he put every man he it may be that it was not seen by those they could muster on the clew-rope and soon had were leaving; but the sight of the stars and the great sail on deck, where it gave them a stripes to the fortunas themselves, various lively tussle as it bellied and floundered. the as were their nationalities, was salutary and forecastle men hauled down and stowed the inspiring. if jackson could bother about a jib. the fortuna came to a gentle stand- mere flag why should they be in such a sweat still. her deck became solid under foot, and for their lives? there was no longer any the relief after the peculiar jarring movement mutinous outcry to shorten sail. a pipe or that baffled every attempt to walk was in- two appeared. there was a scramble to find describably welcome. sheltered places. men grinned at one an- kirk strode aft to see what was the matter, other, and even laughed outright as they were after first clewing up the foretopsail with a slung hither and thither by the violent and dozen hands and then ordering them aloft to sudden movements of the ship. furl it. and all the while, she held on her way, the captain met him at the break of the the men struggling at the wheel, the sails poop. straining madly; the wind howling; the in “very smartly done,” he said approvingly. defatigable wheels racing and plunging as “has anything happened, sir?" they cut into the sodden earth, and tore a “no, it's only those speaking-tubes. craw- path to the southward. the ship yawed shaw will have to do something with them. wildly. kirk mounted half-way up the mast. the thing gives only a little squeak. haines his first feeling of dread had given way to a up there is no more use to me than if he were strange elation. it was magnificent thus to in a balloon. what if we ran into a hum- be borne along. danger was forgotten in mock, or struck a gully! find crawshaw, the exhilaration, the excitement, the thrilling and send him to me." delight of that mighty rush before the gale. kirk turned away, only to meet the little fear had disappeared. standing there be- engineer himself. he was beaming from ear tween earth and sky he gave himself up to to ear, and this in spite of the fact that he the enjoyment of a sublime and extraordinary looked half drowned, and the coat was half spectacle: below him, the crouching figures of ripped off his back. his companions, the careening decks, the whirl "isn't she splendid!” he cried. “i've of those steel-rimmed wheels; before him, the been logging her, and would you believe it, vast emptiness of the plains, bounded only by she's been doing seventeen!” the sky; behind him, the fierce alternations the captain grimly brought him back to of haze, gloom, and driving squalls, with rifts earth. of wintry light, and bleak, passing vistas of a “we've been running blindfold,” he said. tempestuous horizon. “heaven only knows what we've escaped! lightning forked and flashed, accompanied see here, crawshaw, you've got to fix those by ear-splitting detonations. the heavens speaking-tubes better. we can't trust our opened. the close-reefed sails strained furi- lives to a tin squeal. call them up aft, and ously in the bolt-ropes with a menacing note see for yourself how rotten bad they are!" the adventurer jackson's scornful and faultfinding tone teeth-chattering motion recommenced. the angered crawshaw. he pursed his lips to fortuna plunged forward with an increasing gether, and without another word went over acceleration, bumping and quivering--lung- to the apparatus. ing, rolling, and sending up a spray of clods “how long will it take you?” demanded and dirt. once more she was off, and every the captain. one on board braced and settled himself for crawshaw reflected. the nerve-racking ordeal that had to last till "i'll have to rig up a sort of telephone sundown. harness," he returned at length. “one for eight bells were struck. a man here, one for the foretop, and another kirk, gazing aloft, perceived haines way- for the wheel. say an hour. yes, all of an ing his hand to him. they had now to hour.” change places. kirk, with the port watch, “mr. kirkpatrick!” was to relieve the starboard. he sent his “yes, sir." two quartermasters, together with five other “tell the cook to start his fire, and serve hands, to take the wheel; two more to the out hot coffee and biscuits to all hands. bridge; while he, with phelps and haggitty, and- both dependable men with some sea experi- “yes, sir.” ence, laid aloft to keep their watch in the “get that storm trysail out of the sail- foretop. locker, bend it, and be ready to run it up!” haines and his two companions were very “very good, sir." glad to come down. they were wet to the “oh, i say," put in crawshaw, “i wish bone, and so chilled and cramped that their you'd tell gibbs and henderson to look over hands could hardly hold to the ratlines. to the trucks, and see how the springs are stand- make matters worse, they were all more or ing it. tell them also to examine the jour- less seasick with the violent whipping move- nals, and make sure they're lubricating.” ment of the mast. kirk watched them de- “yes, you see to that, too, mr. kirk scend with some anxiety, and breathed a sigh patrick," added the captain, with jealous of relief when they safely reached the deck. authority. phelps was put into the harness that craw- kirk darted down the ladder and hastened shaw had improvised. kirk spoke through about giving orders. the galley stovepipe him. began to smoke. the storm-sail was bro “quartermaster, do you hear me?” ken out and bent. kirk moved hither and “yes, sir.” thither, an energetic second mate-routing “quite plainly?” out skulkers, directing gear to be coiled, “yes, sir.” tarpaulins lashed, and the disordered decks “what's your course?” straightened up. he asked and obtained “sou’-sou’-east.” the captain's permission to run life-lines fore "is she hard to hold?” and-aft, so that when they should be again “very difficult, sir. bucks like a bronco. under way the men might be able to move the jerks the fellows off their pins, sir." length of the ship without being spilled into “shall i send you two more hands?”. the scuppers. he sent one of the mechanics “we'd be very glad to get them. could to report on the chains of the steering-gear, use four, i think.” and find out how they were standing the “all right-i'll see to it." strain that had been put upon them. busied then he called up the bridge. with these and innumerable other details the “hello! bridge! can you hear me hour passed swiftly for him, and he was al- plainly?” most surprised when the orders came down “every word, sir.” to make sail again. “tell captain jackson that the helmsmen the gale was still raging, but their second are short-handed, and that they need four start was less beset with terrors than the first. more hands." they knew now for certain what the fortuna “aye, aye, sir." was capable of. the storm-trysail, too, was kirk took up the binoculars that haines sent up first, and the wind being now on the had left him and swept the horizon. port quarter, it steadied the ship, and as she from that great altitude the limitless, deso- gathered way, relieved the two other sails late plains seemed as flat as billiard-boards. that followed. the sickening, jouncing, it required very close inspection to pick out everybody's magazine hollows and inequalities of surface. but by into his bunk. sleep, of course, he could dint of searching, and aided by haggitty, not. the motion was too racking, too vio- whose eyes were sharper than the glass, kirk lent for even the pretense. but he could gradually learned to detect bad places, and close his eyes, and alleviate to some degree to avoid them. haines had simply allowed the fatigue of body and nerves so long kept the ship to roll over everything, lickety-split, at tension. bump, bump, bump, with a slavish adher- the day's work was practically over; for ance to his course as though any deviation although it would fall to him to stand the from it were a crime. but kirk tried to ease second dog-watch from six to eight, and then the running all he could. under his direction the middle anchor-watch from midnight to the vessel yawed to the right and the left, with four, it would not be in the same arduous not only some increase of speed, but a most circumstances. the ship-blessed thought noticeable improvement in her motion, -would be still; and there would be no “foretop, there!”. course to watch, no sails to worry over. “aye, aye, captain.” after a while—a long while-he heard the “i'm going below, and turn over the com tramp of feet overhead; hoarse, inarticulate mand to the second officer.” cries; the pounding of blocks; the fury of “very good, sir." loosened sails thundering in the wind. the “you are to call me if the gale freshens.” heavy, lurching, exasperating movement “shall do so, sir.” abruptly ceased. kirk flung himself out at “how is it to windward?” full length, his tormented frame free at last “seems all clear, sir." to lie at ease. oh, the glorious relaxation “well, keep her going." of weary muscles! how soothing the pillow “aye, aye, sir.” that supported his tired head! his eyes kirk, leaning from his dizzy perch, watched closed. respite had come at last. the the captain disappear. it gave him a strange long, long day was over. sense of loneliness-of paralyzing helpless- he was awakened a little later by haines. ness verging on fear. the whole responsi- he sat up and rubbed his sleepy eyes. where bility of the ship was now upon his shoulders, was he? he blinked under the light of and he had no one to rely on but himself. haines's lantern, wondering dully at the un- he took a deep breath and pulled himself familiarity of the cabin. then his recollec- together. but if command had its terrors, tion returned, and he jumped out, getting it had also its delights. swaying there in the down on his knees to search for his rubber sky, with one arm clasped about the mast, boots. haines was divesting himself of his he was thrilled to think that his will was now oilskins, and was raining water all over the supreme. on his skill, judgment, and cau- floor. he was surly and uncommunicative, tion was staked the safety of all. he re- growling out that it was a beastly dirty night doubled his vigilance, and kept his eyes fixed when kirk asked him how it was on deck. on the unrolling savannas before him. kirk went up on to the bridge, and added his hearty agreement to the description. the storm was blowing with unabated strength, chapter xvi with now and then a lull when rain would drown the decks and overflow the scuppers. by four o'clock his watch was over. it a black, wild night it was, wet and raw, with was blowing as hard as ever, and the bleak, a deafening note of menace as the great gusts wild day was darkening fast. but the cap- burst against the ship. tain's orders were to press her to the utmost, pacing up and down the bridge, kirk and take every advantage of the favoring finally wore out the two hours of his dog- gale. the search-light was lighted, and its watch. eight bells were struck, and he went dazzling rays were projected far ahead, open below, happy to think that dinner was await- ing before them a path of weird and startling ing him. the main cabin was brightly brilliancy. kirk worked his way along the lighted; and in contrast with the desolation life-lines to the after-companion, and stag- he had just quitted, it appeared extraordina- gered below to the cabin that he had been rily comfortable, cozy, and homelike. the allotted to share with haines. he managed long center-table had been cleared, except to change his clothing, and then, all dressed for a solitary place that had been set apart except for his boots, he wedged himself for him. at the end an american flag had the adventurer been laid crosswise as though in preparation “they insist on knowing where we are for a religious service; and about it were going. if they are not told they threaten gathered jackson, westbrook, mrs. hitch- to put back the ship. the whole conspiracy cock, and dr. von zedtwitz, all with their was hatched in felicidad before we started— heads together, talking in low and anxious treacherous of them, wasn't it?-and so tones. in their absorption they took no disloyal and underhanded! and the horrid notice of kirk, who gazed at them curious things want to know what they are to be ly beginning to understand that some very paid.” disagreeable matter was under discussion. “it's that fellow beale," cried kirk. “he their excitement, their heightened color, sounded me himself only a week ago, the their angry and emphatic gestures filled him rascally sea-lawyer. i might have known with vague misgivings. westbrook held a that he was going to spring something on us. crumpled paper in his hand to which he sev- if i were jackson i'd put him in irons, and eral times referred with flashing eyes and by george, if they want volunteers to do it, fierce whispering. i'll- " in a corner mccann and phillips were “there's more-listen. they say that pretending to play a game of chess, but it jackson and mr. haines have to resign, and was evident that they were covertly watching that they will elect their own officers.” the others. they, too, looked perturbed and “their own officers, eh? oh, i see- ill at ease. near them was crawshaw, captain beale! a nice thing that would be! hunched over a book, in so intense a preoc- well, i hope they gave them a stiff answer.” cupation that he seemed oblivious to the “no, they didn't give them anything. we general appearance of alarm and mystery. can't fight them, mr. kirkpatrick. how vera was absent, and kirk's heart fell a little can we? there were thirty-seven names as he looked about for her in vain. signed in a big, round circle. papa has the steward brought him a plate of soup. asked them to come in and talk it over. he kirk swallowed it ravenously. he had not is only waiting for you to finish your dinner known until then how famished he was. the to have them all in here. i don't know soup was followed by a curry of mutton, and what he has decided to do. he would not some admirably cooked rice; and kirk was tell me when i asked him.” busily getting away with these when he heard kirk pushed away his plate. a rustle behind him. it was vera, gliding "i'm done,” he said. “i can't sit here and to the seat beside him. she was very pale, eat with half a mutiny on our hands. stew- and she leaned her chin on her hand as she ard, clear away. ought i to go over and turned and looked at him. she was smiling, speak to them? would it be wrong, do you and her soft, lustrous eyes did not drop as think?” they met his own. it was kirk who faltered “no, no, let them alone. they're having under that tender scrutiny, oppressed as he an awful quarrel. i believe the captain is often was, and somehow hurt within, by the secretly pleased at the deadlock. he wants spell of her beauty. it was ever a fresh rev- to do the talking, but papa won't let him. elation, a fresh torment, filling him with a papa is for compromise and reasonableness, jealous rapture that grudged even the sight and i believe he suspects that jackson would of her to another. intentionally try to make things impossible. "have you heard the news?” she asked, the old lady taunts papa with being weak, in a voice so low that it was almost a whisper. and seems to think all that's necessary is for “news? what news?” her to get up and give everybody a good “there's trouble forward.” scolding.” “trouble- ?" “hadn't we better get out of the way?” “hush-not so loud. the men have sent said kirk. “it makes me fidgety to sit here in a round robin. a deputation brought it and feel that i am prolonging the suspense.” in at dinner-time-four of them-that's what v era assented, and they both rose and papa has in his hand. wasn't it too bad, went over to the side of the cabin, seating when we were all so happy, so delighted themselves near the chess-players. it was the and the whole thing so tremendously suc- signal for the others to arrange themselves cessful?" formally at the head of the table, a grim little “but i don't understand. what do they party, with the light of battle in their eyes. want?" the steward was sent on deck with a message. everybody's magazine he had been gone hardly a minute before the “but,” expostulated beale. bell began to toll on the bridge. it had a “i'll leave the speaker to the good sense disquieting, alarming sound. all talk and of you men,” interrupted westbrook fiercely. whispering ceased. there was a general air "such language is intolerable, and can only of anxiety. then the men filed in silently, make matters worse. this is no time for as though daunted by the brilliancy of the personalities and insults. you have sub- great cabin, and by their own presumption in mitted a proposal-well, we meet it with a invading it. an instinctive respect kept them counter-proposal. that's the question for standing. they massed together about the the meeting-and the only one." mainmast, some with folded arms, others beale tried to speak, but was dragged back, with their hands in their pockets, others struggling and expostulating, by his comrades. lounging carelessly against the bulkheads there were shouts of: "shut up, beale! with an affected bravado-a formidable put a stopper on him! what mr. west- crowd, filling nearly half the cabin-brawny, brook says is right!” the big australian muscular, and defiant. subsided as he saw his men turning against mr. westbrook rose to his feet. his man him, and folded his arms across his breast in ner was that of a director at some share- an aggressive submission. holders' meeting-dignified, calm, courteous. “now, gentlemen," continued westbrook, “gentlemen,” he began, in a deep, reson "we shall tell you everything, if in return you ant voice, “i have here a petition signed by pledge yourselves to support our officers will- thirty-seven members of this expedition. it ingly and cheerfully. yes or no, if you asks for some things that are possible, and please.” others that are impossible. we count on your t here was a shout of assent that swelled good sense and forbearance to make some into cheers. the cabin rang with hurrahs. kind of compromise possible. you cannot go beale, flushed and scowling, seemed alone in on without us—we cannot go on without you. withholding his consent. he stirred uneasily there must be concessions on either side. on his feet, and his lips tightened as though it is inconceivable that a scheme so boldly in mute protest. projected, so laboriously carried out, so aus- “let us hear from the nays,” exclaimed piciously begun-should be permitted to per- westbrook, fixing a withering glance on him. ish in ignominy. you wish to know the ob- “i have not heard mr. beale's decision. ject of our search? well, you shall be told!” considering that he is our principal critic, his there was a hum of eager expectancy. answer is important." heads craned forward. the loungers “i'm with the crowd,” returned the aus- straightened up. tralian insolently. “if they are ready to put “but on one condition." up with— " westbrook stopped, and regarded them “you're getting away from the point," steadily. cried westbrook, interrupting him. “you “we will brook no interference with the mean that you give your word of honor with- control of this vessel. captain jackson will out any reservation whatever, to obey cap- remain in command, mr. haines will remain tain jackson and the other officers we have first officer. we expect from every man of appointed? is that so?” you his individual word of honor to obey “it is, if you carry out your part of the them loyally and unquestioningly. if you bargain.” are not prepared to concede this, the expedi “we are ready to do that now!” tion is at an end, and we shall return to “all right then,” said beale, in a choking felicidad and disband.” sort of voice. “hold on a minute!” cried beale, pressing “then, gentlemen, i shall call on dr. belligerently to the front, and raising his von zedtwitze to put you in possession of the hand for attention. “we don't think that facts that induced us to embark on this costly jackson is a fit and suitable person to have and hazardous undertaking." charge of us. not only is he no seaman, but in a profound silence, broken only by the his inflated and overbearing ways " droning of the gale above, dr. von zedtwitz “silence!” cried westbrook. “captain rose, and solemnly regarded the assembled jackson is not to be discussed. another crew of the fortuna. with his blond beard word, and i'll wash my hands of the whole that forked into fierce tusks; his deep-set and affair." piercing eyes; his strong, harsh features, sug- the adventurer gestive of a mind as rugged as his face, he account. i early recovered some of my in- was a solid and impressive figure. struments, a few of my books, my chronom- "gentlemen,” he began, without preamble, eter watch. i was enabled to make obser- “fourteen years ago, under instructions from vations thereby, greatly to the astonishment the imperial scientific society of heidelberg, of the natives and to my own satisfaction. i had the honor of guiding a party from the i laid these observations for safe-geeping in city of quito into the unexplored region of the the only segure place i had-my head, gen- southern llanos. after many hardships and tlemen. i made systematic exploration of misadventures, we were one day set upon by this ancient and half-buried city. a band of those savage aboriginals that had “there was one building in particular, of made this gountry the dread of the explorer, prodigious extent, and of notable and gloomy and the despair of those ardent thirsters after splendor, on which i goncentrated the ma- geographical, anthropological, and etymolog- jor part of my efforts. deep below in the ical knowledge, to whose efforts, in every ground was a labyrinth of subterranean glime, we owe so sincere a debt of scientific chambers, empty, dark, and given over to gratitude. they stripped us of everything, bats and reptiles. they had so long been though they spared our lives, and treated us exposed to the ravages of my friends, the in other ways not ungindly. unfortunately, piapocos, that naught remained of their thinking to beguile them and win their friend- primitive occupancy. it occurred to me to ship, i exerted myself to amuse them with chart them carefully, in the expectation that, my flute. it was a fadal action. i succeeded they being laid out in a mathematical form only too well. my companions they left, but of remarkable strictness and regularity, i me they carried with them away. professors might in this manner recover the architec- engelhardt and blumm contrived to retrace tural scheme, and know where to look for their steps and reach the outposts of civiliza- other chambers that possibly had been hidden tion. but i, on the bare back of a horse, was and lost for forty centuries. led by my captors into the recesses of their “i was rewarded beyond my hopes. this unchartered country, playing the flute for seeming labyrinth, when measured and them to dance when we rested from the chase, drawn to scale, showed precision and exact- or camped at night on the naked prairie. ness. i had now in my hand the key to the “i was carried, in the gourse of time, to a whole; and there remained only the difficulty place called cassiquiare, situated on rising of removing débris--which was, however, an ground to the southeast-at the first break almost insurmountable one-and of tunnel- of the prairie into low hills, which by grada ing to where i was gonfident of striking the tions assume the character of mountains. gontinuation of a certain passage. ah, gen- imagine my sensations on finding here the tlemen, it was an undertaging such as few remains of one of those vast and mysterious men would ever have attempted. i had no cities that antedate the christian era, and tools but my hands, no helper save a female. were possibly contemporaneous with baby- but i was sustained by the gonviction of ul- lon and tyre. yes, my friends-enormous timate success. i was as positive as though i buildings of an antique epoch, moldering stood before a door, and had only to achieve in decay, overgrown with jungle, in many its opening. cases mere shapeless ruins lost to all form “we broke through. we entered, as i had the wreck of a perished and forgotten civiliza- thought we should, a replica of the side al- tion. one could not move in those great ready open. with a thrice-torch in hand, i gourtyards, nor view those fronts of fantastic penetrated those cavernous interiors, and trod garving and embellishment without an ar beneath my feet the dust of treasures of a by- cheological thrill—those golossal erections of gone age. ranged about me were great chests vanished hands--the work of artists and ar- that crumbled as i touched them; great rolls, chitects of no mean order, who had labored in presumably of cloth, that fell to nothingness the dim past to raise what was, perhaps, the under the breath of the outside air; enormous gapital of an empire. earthenware jars, filling galleries iio meters “for three years i was gaptive with these long, which had contained wine and honey. savages, roaming the llanos in the dry season, i was in an ancient storehouse of enormous returning periodically to cassiquiare in the extent-an arsenal-a commissariat depot. wet-but busy always, you may be sure, to in one chamber i afterward gounted over turn my personal misfortunes to a scientific seven thousand bronze axes. in another, i everybody's magazine he had been gone hardly a minute before the “but," expostulated beale. bell began to toll on the bridge. it had a "i'll leave the speaker to the good sense disquieting, alarming sound. all talk and of you men," interrupted westbrook fiercely. whispering ceased. there was a general air “such language is intolerable, and can only of anxiety. then the men filed in silently, make matters worse. this is no time for as though daunted by the brilliancy of the personalities and insults. you have sub- great cabin, and by their own presumption in mitted a proposal—well, we meet it with a invading it. an instinctive respect kept them counter-proposal. that's the question for standing. they massed together about the the meeting—and the only one." mainmast, some with folded arms, others beale tried to speak, but was dragged back, with their hands in their pockets, others struggling and expostulating, by his comrades. lounging carelessly against the bulkheads there were shouts of: “shut up, beale! with an affected bravado - a formidable put a stopper on him! what mr. west- crowd, filling nearly half the cabin-brawny, brook says is right!” the big australian muscular, and defiant. subsided as he saw his men turning against mr. westbrook rose to his feet. his man him, and folded his arms across his breast in ner was that of a director at some share an aggressive submission. holders' meeting-dignified, calm, courteous. “now, gentlemen,” continued westbrook, “gentlemen,” he began, in a deep, reson "we shall tell you everything, if in return you ant voice, “i have here a petition signed by pledge yourselves to support our officers will- thirty-seven members of this expedition. it ingly and cheerfully. yes or no, if you asks for some things that are possible, and please.” others that are impossible. we count on your there was a shout of assent that swelled good sense and forbearance to make some into cheers. the cabin rang with hurrahs. kind of compromise possible. you cannot go beale, flushed and scowling, seemed alone in on without us—we cannot go on without you. withholding his consent. he stirred uneasily there must be concessions on either side. on his feet, and his lips tightened as though it is inconceivable that a scheme so boldly in mute protest. projected, so laboriously carried out, so aus- “let us hear from the nays,” exclaimed piciously begun-should be permitted to per- westbrook, fixing a withering glance on him. ish in ignominy. you wish to know the ob- “i have not heard mr. beale's decision. ject of our search? well, you shall be told!” considering that he is our principal critic, his there was a hum of eager expectancy. answer is important." heads craned forward. the loungers “i'm with the crowd,” returned the aus- straightened up. tralian insolently. “if they are ready to put “but on one condition.” up with " westbrook stopped, and regarded them “you're getting away from the point,” steadily. cried westbrook, interrupting him. “you “we will brook no interference with the mean that you give your word of honor with- control of this vessel. captain jackson will out any reservation whatever, to obey cap- remain in command, mr. haines will remain tain jackson and the other officers we have first officer. we expect from every man of appointed? is that so?”. you his individual word of honor to obey “it is, if you carry out your part of the them loyally and unquestioningly. if you bargain.” are not prepared to concede this, the expedi “we are ready to do that now!” tion is at an end, and we shall return to “all right then,” said beale, in a choking felicidad and disband.” sort of voice. “hold on a minute!" cried beale, pressing “then, gentlemen, i shall call on dr. belligerently to the front, and raising his von zedtwitz to put you in possession of the hand for attention. “we don't think that facts that induced us to embark on this costly jackson is a fit and suitable person to have and hazardous undertaking.” charge of us. not only is he no seaman, but in a profound silence, broken only by the his inflated and overbearing ways— " droning of the gale above, dr. von zedtwitz “silence!” cried westbrook. “captain rose, and solemnly regarded the assembled jackson is not to be discussed. another crew of the fortuna. with his blond beard word, and i'll wash my hands of the whole that forked into fierce tusks; his deep-set and affair." piercing eyes; his strong, harsh features, sug- the adventurer gestive of a mind as rugged as his face, he account. i early recovered some of my in- was a solid and impressive figure. struments, a few of my books, my chronom- “gentlemen,” he began, without preamble, eter watch. i was enabled to make obser- “fourteen years ago, under instructions from vations thereby, greatly to the astonishment the imperial scientific society of heidelberg, of the natives and to my own satisfaction. i had the honor of guiding a party from the i laid these observations for safe-geeping in city of quito into the unexplored region of the the only segure place i had-my head, gen- southern llanos. after many hardships and tlemen. i made systematic exploration of misadventures, we were one day set upon by this ancient and half-buried citv. a band of those savage aboriginals that had “there was one building in particular, of made this gountry the dread of the explorer, prodigious extent, and of notable and gloomy and the despair of those ardent thirsters after splendor, on which i goncentrated the ma- geographical, anthropological, and etymolog- jor part of my efforts. deep below in the ical knowledge, to whose efforts, in every ground was a labyrinth of subterranean glime, we owe so sincere a debt of scientific chambers, empty, dark, and given over to gratitude. they stripped us of everything, bats and reptiles. they had so long been though they spared our lives, and treated us exposed to the ravages of my friends, the in other ways not ungindly. unfortunately, pia pocos, that naught remained of their thinking to beguile them and win their friend- primitive occupancy. it occurred to me to ship, i exerted myself to amuse them with chart them carefully, in the expectation that, my flute. it was a fadal action. i succeeded they being laid out in a mathematical form only too well. my companions they left, but of remarkable strictness and regularity, i me they carried with them away. professors might in this manner recover the architec- engelhardt and blumm contrived to retrace tural scheme, and know where to look for their steps and reach the outposts of civiliza- other chambers that possibly had been hidden tion. but i, on the bare back of a horse, was and lost for forty centuries. led by my captors into the recesses of their “i was rewarded beyond my hopes. this unchartered country, playing the flute for seeming labyrinth, when measured and them to dance when we rested from the chase, drawn to scale, showed precision and exact- or camped at night on the naked prairie. ness. i had now in my hand the key to the "i was carried, in the gourse of time, to a whole; and there remained only the difficulty place called cassiquiare, situated on rising of removing débris—which was, however, an ground to the southeast-at the first break almost insurmountable one—and of tunnel- of the prairie into low hills, which by grada- ing to where i was gonfident of striking the tions assume the character of mountains. gontinuation of a certain passage. ah, gen- imagine my sensations on finding here the tlemen, it was an undertaging such as few remains of one of those vast and mysterious men would ever have attempted. i had no cities that antedate the christian era, and tools but my hands, no helper save a female. were possibly contemporaneous with baby but i was sustained by the gonviction of ul- lon and tyre. yes, my friends—enormous timate success. i was as positive as though i buildings of an antique epoch, moldering stood before a door, and had only to achieve in decay, overgrown with jungle, in many its opening. cases mere shapeless ruins lost to all form- “we broke through. we entered, as i had the wreck of a perished and forgotten civiliza- thought we should, a replica of the side al- tion. one could not move in those great ready open. with a thrice-torch in hand, i gourtyards, nor view those fronts of fantastic penetrated those cavernous interiors, and trod garving and embellishment without an ar- beneath my feet the dust of treasures of a by- cheological thrill-those golossal erections of gone age. ranged about me were great chests vanished hands—the work of artists and ar- that crumbled as i touched them; great rolls, chitects of no mean order, who had labored in presumably of cloth, that fell to nothingness the dim past to raise what was, perhaps, the under the breath of the outside ajr; enormous gapital of an empire. earthenware jars, filling galleries meters “for three years i was gaptive with these long, which had contained wine and honey. savages, roaming the llanos in the dry season, i was in an ancient storehouse of enormous returning periodically to cassiquiare in the extent-an arsenal-a commissariat depot. wet-but busy always, you may be sure, to in one chamber i afterward gounted over turn my personal misfortunes to a scientific seven thousand bronze axes. in another, i everybody's magazine galculated that there could not be less than split up into small parties, the better to sub- four hundred thousand arrow-heads. and so sist; and some, including my own, boldly it was with everything—the equipment of an penetrated to the northward, hoping to do inca's army-for thousands, many thousands better on the banks of the river. we reached of men. the inirida. here at last was my opportu- “do not think this examination was the nity, desperate and full of peril though it was. matter of an hour. i was gonfronted with one night i fled, and proceeded to follow many difficulties: poisonous gases, lack of down the river. i lived on what fish i illuminating means-above all, with what i gaught, and at night slept in trees to guard might call my professional engagements, myself from tigers. ten days i existed thus, which made irritating demands on my time with diminishing strength, and many sad gonstantly i had to play the flute. the na- reflections on my foolhardiness. then, in tives were insatiable for my humble efforts. in my last extremity, i was so fortunate as to the intervals i gontinued my explorations. i fall in with a party of mituas, who were shall not weary you with the details of them. i descending the stream in a canoe. these will come to that extraordinary moment when indians brought me to san fernando de i attained a high and vaulted chamber, and atabapo, whence in due gourse, and after found myself in the actual strong-room of the many tedious delays, i returned to my native citadel. here were ingots of metal, com- heidelberg. pactly stacked in serried rows that reached “as to the treasure i said nothing. i the ceiling. i took one up. gentlemen, it cherished dreams of some day returning; and was a bar of gold!” in the intervals of my professorial duties at the doctor paused as though to enjoy the heidelberg—where i became assistant lec- sensation of his announcement. nor was turer on the prehistoric races of south amer- he disappointed. the company, breathless ica-i turned over many projects, which one and silent, had been standing like statues by one i had to give up as not feasible. the under the spell of a dawning comprehension. problem of transporting such a mass of metal now, with a sudden, ungovernable impulse, through a hostile, almost waterless desert, they broke into cheers. again and again appeared insolvable. this colossal weight, there arose a' mighty shout that shook the requiring four hundred pack-horses to bear it, skylights overhead. and an attendant army to defend it, defied “zeddy, forever! hurrah for zeddy! every endeavor of my imagination. no now, boys, all together, hip, hip- !” means suggested itself to me by which success the uproar was quelled by the doctor's might be achieved. yet i said nothing. i upraised hand. kept my secret buried in my bosom. but “to resume," he said. “yes, gentlemen, i pondered incessantly—and in vain. a bar of gold! even with my imperfect “one day in paris, at the house of our means of verification, i soon satisfied myself common friend, the justly celebrated and of its integrity. then i set myself painstag- world-famed max nordau, i had the great ingly to determine the value of my disgovery honor and good fortune to be presented to it was at best but a grude estimate that i mrs. poulteney hitchcock. this gracious could maig; but with scientific gonservatism lady put many questions to me about cassi. i erred, if at all, on the side of gaution. in quiare, and betrayed an interest so eager, so that vault there lie to-day between four and sympathetic, that after repeated visits to her five hundred ingots of gold of a minimum charming salon, i at last unfolded to her my value of forty millions of marks-or, in ameri- perplexities, and besought her aid. can money, almost ten millions of dollars! “thanks to this noble lady's energy and "in the succeeding year, beginning the money, to mr. westbrook's inventive genius, fourth of my gaptivity, there was a season of and to my own humble though ardent go- such excessive drought that we were threat operation, this daring and audacious scheme ened with starvation. game, formerly so was successfully incepted. it rests with you plentiful, had all but disappeared. the to carry it to a triumphant gonclusion; and parched savannas were whitened with the god willing, we shall soon return to felici- bones of those immense herds that had fallen dad like a galleon of old spain, deep-laden and died in ungounted thousands. we had with the plundered treasures of the incas!” the sixth instalment of “the adventurer” will appear in the august number. patsy moran and the orange paint by arthur sullivant hoffman illustrations by henry raleigh i have no great likin' for thim mesilf,” “it was me and dinnis o'toole with the i said patsy moran, skilfully lighting his eyes of the two of us on the same polayce job, pipe from the one that tim had silently good frinds as we was—sure, i loved him like handed him and settling back comfortably a brother and he treated me like wan, bad cess on his end of a central park bench; "yet to him! but we was frinds thin, and whin 'twas only me good luck saved me from bein' the word come to us that the man holdin' the wan of thim.” wires to the givin' of that job was old michael the phlegmatic tim smoked peacefully on o'grady up in westchester county, dinnis without comment, but patsy, who required no comes to me and says he, with wan of thim other response from tim than his presence, lady-trust-me looks from the big eyes of him: continued reminiscently: 'patsy,' says he, 'it's frinds we are first, and “yis,” he said, “but for good luck and a bit wan of us is a polayceman afterwards,' he of me own good judgment i'd be tremblin' for says, noble. me job on the polayce force this minute-de “yis,' says i, swellin' with pride at bein' pindent for the rint on whether i could git it so honorable. from hinissey for not seein' his place was open “we're playin' fair and the best man wins,' sunday mornin' whin i was takin' a drink he says. over his bar, or whether me sergeant had “yis,' says i. already took ivrything hinissey had for the “thin,' says he, ‘let the two of us go up • offinse of havin' it, tellin' him he might keep togither to old man o'grady's place in the the rest if he would report me for drinkin' on country and settle it wanct and for all like duty. sure, and in the place of that i'm me gintlemen, lettin' him choose atween us. are own master of mesilf, livin' free and comfort- ye with me?' able by industrious burglin' and drivin' the “i wouldn't be lettin' ye go alone for polayce distracted, may the divil dance on the worlds,' says i, still feelin' honorable and blue backs of thim-hiven forgive me for say- turnin' cold at the thought of him goin' to in' so! o'grady unbeknownst to me. it's the true “but they was a time whin i was timpted frind ye are and i'll not be goin' back on ye.' into wantin' a job on the force, and this was “will it be this afternoon, thin?' he says. the way of it. 'twas in me early twinties, “sure,' i says, takin' quick thought of the and faith, it's the fine, upstandin' lad i was in new clothes i was wearin' and knowin' dinnis thim days, with all the women gittin' beyond couldn't raise the money by afternoon for thimsilves entirely over me, and me that care better than the shabby wans on the back of less and go-lucky. it was only me good luck him. saved me from wan of thim the same day it “so up we wint. o'grady, havin' made kept me from throwin' mesilf away on the his pile, was livin' comfortable on his own polayce force, and if iver a man made his way place in the country and addin' to it, bein' a with a woman with ivrything ag’inst him, capacious man, by keepin' his hold on politics well, i'll be tellin' ye. on the east side. he was so rich his home eveverybody's magazine was a matter of a mile from the statioss tiid and can sit with your back ag'inst this tree and we wint the way on foot, takin' no sorrow so your legs flat out along the concealin' ground. it, for the sun was shinin', the flowers bloom- à venad don't move annything but your tongue in'ivrywhere, and the bees hummin' soothin' whilser ut he's with us! i'll do what i can. but and pleasant-like-and the country's a fine for the lovda. of hiven, sit tight! place to go to whin ye can come back ag'in. “with theats first words of him me brains “we was trudgin' along through a bit of threw the sleep froitua thim and me heart woods, nayther of us talkin' much by reason stopped beatin' with the stirkenin' fright of of thinkin' how he could git a medal from what he was sayin'. i could sere immediate o'grady for bein' fair and honorable whilst that thim words painted on the back of me he was makin' the other look like the last would murder all me chancts with o'grady words of a drunken man afore he falls into the -and me fine new suit, besides! young as i ditch and quits speakin', whin who should we was, i seen it was no time for mere thinkin'- be meetin', drivin' along in his bit of a cart, me wits was quick to tell me that-and in less but old man o'grady himsilf! time than it takes a potaty to roll into a bar- “we stops him, both talkin' to wanct, but rel i was scrunchin' and wormin' and wigglin' afore we could tell our business he says he along on me back—alanna, thim poor clothes! must be goin' on after the mail and for us to —and was sittin' tight ag'inst a big tree with wait for him where we was and ride home me legs flat out along the ground and niver with him whin he comes back. which we wan of thim yellow letters showin', praise be. done, or begun to do, only by this time we “and with that, old man o'grady, havin' was so nervous about each other that dinnis come close by with his head down a-studyin', wandered around in the woods and i stretched looks up and sees us. “whoa!' says he. out on the grass by the roadside. 'well, gintlemen, here i am and ready for ye. “i was watchin' him, suspicious, but pris. will ye be gittin' in with me, or has your frind intly i rolled over and wint to sleep, with the changed his mind, mr. o'toole?' he says, warm sun shinin' down on me back, knowin' put out over a young man like me showin' him me wits would carry me through with no more respict than not to git up whin he o'grady if i didn't wear thim out with usin' come. thim aforehand. "well, sor,' says dinnis, 'it ain't his mind "it was dinnis woke 'me, and the eyes of he's wantin' to change. ye see, sor,' he says, him was bulgin' out like eggs. givin' me a black eye right in the start of it and “'tare and ages!' he says, 'what's hap- leavin' me no chanct to tell me own lies, “it's pened ve?' not over strong he is—moran's the name, sor, "me?' savs i, blinkin' me eyes. patrick moran-and the walkin' was a bit too "who's done this to ye, patsy?' he goes much for him. the sun makes him this way, 'on, fairly yellin' at me. “what divil has been sor, but he gits all right ag'in whin he can rest at ye whilst i was away? oh, wirra, wirra, his back ag'inst something for a bit.' man, if o'grady iver sees ye now it's more “did ye iver hear the like of that from wan like he will be killin' ye than annything ilse! that was a frind! it made me so blunderin' here,' he says, 'roll over ag'in and let me see mad that niver a word could i say ixcipt the back of ye wanct more. holy saints, look to take off me hat polite, prayin' the saints at that, now! “down with tammany!” they was no orange paint on the back of across your shoulders! and runnin' crooked me arm, and not darin' to move from where down from it-hold still but wan minute-no i sat! true irishman iver done that—“bless boyne “sure,' says mr. o'grady, "and that's a water!” and down wan leg is “ ireland for pity. what can we be doin' for ye?' he says, the english!” and along the other “down gittin' down from his cart. with the popel” and startin' from your hip- “there was me chanct and i took it. 'mr. pocket is a blaspheemous suggistion to the o'grady,' i says, “sure, it's troublin' ye too polayce! ivry letter of it all in orange paint! much i am, sor, but if ye could just be settin' och, man, if o'grady iver sees but wan letter down and talkin' to me soothin' a few minutes of that ye're lost intirely, and by all the pow- i'd be right ag'in in no time. it ain't wanct a ers here he comes now, jauntin' along in his year i git these spells, and thin only from eatin' bit cart, though he ain't seen us yet! keep pickled beets with horseradish on thim,' says your face to him-no, they's no time to be i, knowin' they ain't no chanct for invalids lookin' at it now--and crawl back where ye on the polayce. "patsy,' says he, it's frinds we are first. and wan of us is a polayceman afterwards.'" “och, it's mesilf will do that same,' says sorrowful, ‘for if it's much worse ye're gittin', mr. o'grady, and little enough.' i'll have to ask mr. o'grady to hilp me roll “just a minute, sor, and axin' your par- you on to your stummick and pound your don,' puts in dinnis. “patsy, patsy,' says he, back like dr. ryan said!' tinder as a woman, the divil snatch him! - “it's a wise man that knows whin a fool has 'don't ye mind how dr. ryan says the wan the best of him. i give up; besides, the two of thing ye're not to do whin ye're this way is to thim was already movin' toward the cart. i talk with annybody whativer?' comminced callin' dinnis all the evil names “ye lie, ye dirty blackguard!' i says, that come to me—which was all they was- losin' hold of mesilf, but keepin' pasted to the but i seen him touchin' his head with his finger tree. 'i niver wint to dr. ryan in me life, and whin i shut me mouth to listen, he was and they ain't anny such man annyways! sayin' to mr. o'grady, says he: ‘oh, no, sor, don't i know what — he don't mean nothin' by all that. 'tis only “patsy dear,' says dinnis, like it was hurt the fit that's on him and they's no offinse to in' him, 'quiet yoursilf down! och, come be took. other times he's a daycent man, away, mr. o'grady, sor! it's killin' him though- we'll be after doin'. if ye'll be takin' me into “and with that they climbed in and away your cart i'll be acceptin' your kind bid to go they wint, leavin' me blind and chokin' with home with ye where i can be settlin' the busi- me anger. ness the two of us come out for, with no trou “i was so busy cursin' to mesilf that it was ble to me frind. it's what the doctor says is some minutes afore it come to me to look at best for him—to be left quiet by himsilf. thim blamed letters on me back. and thin, “now the black curse of shielygh on ye, so hilp me, i was afraid to look! sure i was dinnis o'toole!' i yells at him, bein' beyond that it was dinnis himsilf put thim on me—it mesilf, though not movin' me back and legs. stood to reason no one would be wanderin' and if iver- round the country with a can of orange paint “don't be ragin' at thim as is doin' their waitin' for some irishman to come along and best for ye, patsy dear,' he says, still lookin' go to sleep on his stummick so he could paint everybody's magazine nefarious writin's on the innocent back of him! that made me heart feel like a repeater. but at the thought of thim i fell to swearin' ag'in is it in trouble ye are?' her voice fillin' out with prodigious, and was just goin' to draw up wan kindness so i nearly forgot the paint that was leg and read it whin i heard some wan singin'. keepin' me where i was. a woman's voice, and a sweet wan, it was, "i was till you come,' i says, laughin' back and i begun prissin' me headlines to the at her, 'and now i'm like to git in it worse than ground closer than iver. iver,' i says. “thin i seen her through the trees comin' “och,' says she,'go long with ye! can't i down a bit of a lane into the road, and faith, be stoppin' long enough to be civil but ye must few is the women i've laid me eyes on afore or begin blarneyin' like ye'd known me all me since could equal that wan! her hair was life long?' blacker than annything ilse ixcipt her eyes, "sure,' i says, still settin' tight ag'inst me and the red cheeks and lips of her would 'a' tree and all the earth me legs could cover, made the berries in her pail look like they was 'i've knowed ye iver since i first met ye, and snowballs. and as saucy as ye please, she was. that's all anny wan has done. and as for “she spoke to me social as she wint by in blarneyin', was they iver a man laid eyes on ye the road, bein' nayther afraid nor too much without tellin' ye what he saw?!. the other way, and i could see the looks of me "yoursilf,' says she, laughin', with the was by no means hurtin' her. dimples comin' all over the face of her. "a fine afternoon to ye,' she says, goin' “mesilf indeed!' says i, and i could see right along on her way. she was bein' drawed to me by the way i was "sure,' says i, 'and if ye'd said that same settin' there indifferent whilst she stood in the afore ye come, i'd 'a' been answerin' that it road. “wasn't i just sayin' i saw a worse was not like to be!' trouble for me than anny that have gone “och,' says she, laughin' a bit of a laugh afore?' wa ut le buh rueyre "it's a wise man that knows whin a fool has the best of him." patsy moran and the orange paint “she give me a look out of thim black “do what?' says she, but doin' it. "be eyes of hers that set me strainin' at the careful of yoursilf there!' she goes on, for i tree-trunk i was leanin' me back ag'inst. was movin' me legs back and forth like they ‘meanin',' says she, “the trouble of gittin' up was pendulums, but keepin' thim tight to the on your feet whin a lady speaks to ye?' she ground and not alarmin' the ants to speak of. says, tossin' her pretty head and leadin' me on. “it's goin' for help i'll be,' she says, still com- “faith,' i says, 'i'd be up on me feet and in' toward me. down on me knees the same minute if-'says “at thim words me stummick collapsed i, ‘if-'i says, surprised at where i'd got me- with fright of me bein' picked up and her silf to and castin' round for anny kind of sin- readin' thim mortifyin' letters on me, and sible reason for bein’a bit of stickin'-plaster on right on top of that she come close enough to the face of the earth whin they was a girl like see it was low shoes i was wearin' and both that callin' to me from the road. mc ankles as trim and tidy as iver they was. "ye seem to be in trouble ag'in,' says she. “ye big gomeral, ye was lyin' to me!' she 'it's like to become a habit with ye, and says, stoppin’ short. where's the glib tongue was waggin' so easy “yis, i was,' says i, 'but in the name of a minute gone?' hiven give me the stick!' i says, the sicond "it ain't me tongue's at fault,' i says, ant havin' gone over the idge of me trousies' meanin' to blame it on me heart and quiet the leg. 'and what might your name be, so i poor girl, only just thin i begun noticin' how can be thankin' ye?' i says, reachin' for the manny of thim big black ants they was stick. “and won't ye set down and rist crawlin' around the ground and wanderin' yoursilf?' over me hilpless form. it's me that hates “take it!' she says, throwin' it at me. bugs worse than the blissed st. patrick hates “and it's none of your business and i want no snakes and 'twas me immediate intintion to thanks from the likes of ye and i won't!' says jump straight up in the air, brushin' the little she, answerin'ivrything at wanct. divils off me with all me hands and feet, but “thank ye annyways,' i says, beatin' me i raymimbered thim murderin' yellow letters shins with the stick without movin’ me back printed up and down the back of me, and call from the tree, “and ye will and what is it?' in' up all me will-power, i set where i was.. “the saints in glory be among us!' says mind ye, it was fair wild i was with thim- she, watchin' me whippin' mesilf. “what they was eight of thim animals on the wan leg ails ye?' of me—but such will the pride in him do for a “it's punishin' mesilf i am for lyin' to ye,' man, and the love of women! and good i says, 'but i misdoubted would ye believe me come of it, for it was wan of thim lunytic ants if i told ye the truth.' scourin' up the toe of me shoe and down the “ye might be tryin' the truth wanct to sole of it, not havin' sinse enough to go find out,' she says, forgittin' to stay mad from around instead of climbin' over, that give me bein' a woman and curious, and lookin' pret- a idea; and so quick was all this that 'twas tier ivry minute. but a sicond after she was done askin' that i “will ye set down frindly-like, thin, and outs with the answer. what was it ye didn't say your name was?' “it ain't me tongue,' i says, wan eye on says i, brushin' a ant off me shoulder and her and the other wan on the biggest of thim shiverin' at the thought of him gittin' down ants what was ballyhootin' round the bottoms me neck. of me trousies, debatin' would he be explorin' “i'll be stoppin' a minute, havin' time on inside, “and hiven knows it ain't me heart me hands,' says she, her curiosity killin' her, that's keepin' me here, but me foot,' i says. and me name is just what ye said i didn't say 'i sprained me ankle on that stone forninst ye it was, me not knowin' yours annyway,' she in the road and would ye mind throwin' it as says. far as ye're able into the woods?' says i. "oh, mine,' says i. 'the last of it's “och, ye poor man!' she says, comin' moran,' i says, tellin' her the truth by reason toward me as i knowed she would. “and of knowin' she wouldn't believe it, but that why ain't ye takin' off your shoe afore your don't matter since it's just like ivry other foot swells in it?' man's—your own at the word from ye. me "bring a stick with ye!' i says, the wan own name is patrick,' i says, “but patsy's big ant havin' disappeared from me view and easier. and i'm not wantin' the last of yours another wan startin' to hunt for him. the day, seein' as it's not likely to stay so unless everybody's magazine ane all the single men loses the power of speech a divil afterwards. 'twas a big oath i took, and can't make signs. and if i'm not know- and niver in all thim years was they need of it, in your own sweet name,' i says, wonderin' but this day, katy darlin',' i says, makin’ me was it the old granddad ant ticklin' me over voice rich and sweet, and lookin' at her in a me knee, there's naught left but to call ye way i'd learned was worth doin', 'but this mavourneen and other things that come out of day, katy darlin', the time has come on me! the heart of me,' says i, givin: her a look and the minute me eyes was blissed by the sight sighin' painful. of ye comin' down the lane i begun sayin' “it's katy, thin,' says she, dimplin' so i over and over to mesilf, “patsy, me boy, had to keep me eyes on me own back to ray. patsy, me boy, if ye move but wan inch from mimber thim purgatorial letters on it, “and ye where ye are, ye'll spind all the rest of your needn't be beatin' yoursilf anny more with life after ye're dead in purgatory!” and me- that stick,' she says, 'it ye'll be tellin' me the silf answers me back immediate, “and if ye real truth intirely.' let that girl go by, ye'll spind it in a worse "niver mind that, katy dear,' i says. 'i place, and god pity ye!” faith, katy dear, can't forgive me- i'm cursin' the day silf for lyin' to ye i made that big and it keeps the oath, for it's glad bugs off, but will i'd be to put me ye be offinded at face in the dirt at the truth if ye have your little feet, ma- it?' i says, me wits vourneen,' i says, furnishin' me with thinkin' right in a splendiferous the middle of it reason for bein' a what the bedivilled porous-plaster. back of me would "if ye can be lookin' like if i stand tellin' of it was to do it, 'but wanct, it's me will i know ye'd not be tryin' to put up be havin' me break with the hearin' of me oath and i'm it,' she says, smilin' too much of a man at me and showin' for that, anny- the white teeth of ways,' i inded up, her so i was mind- sighin’tremindous. ed to git up with “it was a long all that outrageous speech, but a good printin' on me and wan, and it made take me chanct the pretty face of of lookin' a fool. her red as thim red “thin here it flowers, whativer is,' says i, solemn and trembly-like, 'in three the name of thim is, and her lookin' at me like words. i've seen the world, katy darlin', she was tryin' to see into me heart itsilf. and the most contimptible creature in the “are ye a lunytic?' says she, gaspin' for whole of it is him that makes a fool of breath. himsilf runnin' round after a woman, bleatin' “yis,' says i, shakin' wan of thim divil- like a sheep whin she takes notice of him, chasin' ants off me bare hand, “but not till ye and squealin' like a litter of pigs whin she come,' i says. pretinds she don't. i was but the makin's of “and thin she comminced to laugh, though a man whin i took me solemn oath that if i couldn't be tellin' was it from the quick wit iver the heart of me wint out to a good woman of me answer to her or just by reason of her and a pretty wan, divil the step would i be bein' a bit hysteric over the man's strength of traipsin' after her, leastways till she'd come to me courtin'. but me own face i kept lookin' me first. lad as i was, i knowed 'twas only mortal sorrowful, though the whole of me a good woman would have sinse to see that was squirmin' all over with the ants i could belike i was the better man for not bein' a feel on me, and was they real or not i don't fool afore marriage, and the less likely to be know, but they might as well 'a' been. "are ye a lunytic:' says she, gaspin' for breath." patsy moran and the orange paint “but not all of it—thim armies of bugs bein' alive, goin' home ivry night to me father- and thim fool paintin's on me back that kept in-law's sumpchus risidince in the country me nailed down to wan spot like i was a lid to and sindin' out the servants to kill all the ants it-wasn't holdin' me from makin' me way they was on me estates. with a woman. she was pretindin' to be a bit “thim ants was wonderful ristless, and by proud at the first, but i ixplained to her how this time i could feel crowds of thim scram- me settin' still was but a complimint to her and blin' round all over me underneath me if she would be humorin' me oath for the wan clothes, playin' they was coney island and day, after that i would be crawlin' around for wall street and eliction night all to wanct. i her like all thim other fools did, which suited niver knowed they was so many ants, and ivry her complete and tremindous. it wasn't long wan of thim was barefoot and diggin' his toes afore she come over close enough for me to in. the cold chills run up and down me back be holdin' wan of her hands, me still usin' and me stummick felt like it was a charlotte me free wan to knock off thim owdacious roose. ivry wanct in a while wan of thim ants. would bite me, meanin' no harm, but just in- “and now, katy darlin',' says i, “it's busi- vestigatin'—and me all the time nailed down ness i'll be havin' in these parts to-morrow to the seat of me own trousies be thim painted and belike after that, and,' i says, 'ye didn't and blaspheemus letters i was settin' on, niver git all the berries they was, did ye, mavour darin' to move me back from the tree for all neen? couldn't ye be comin' by here after the ants nor all katy's inticin' ways. anny more of thim to-morrow?' i says, squeezin' other man would 'a' run screamin' and claw- the soft hand of her, encouragin'. in' from the place, but me will power is me “and do ye think katy o'grady has no strong point, and i stayed where i was, makin' more to do than go wanderin' about waitin' love to a woman and the polayce force, and for some wan that will forgit he iver met her?' lyin' like the father of all lies to prove all thim says she. i'd told afore and was intindin' to tell later on. “whin i heard 'o'grady' me blood quit but i will say this: if i was thrown into the circulatin. tormints of hell this minute i would but wave “do ye think that?' she goes on, lookin' at me hand easy-like and make enemies on ivry me, pleadin'. side by findin' fault with the feeble way they “i ain't thinkin',' i says. but i was, and was doin' things. at wanct me wits told me that if she was old “katy was makin' it no easier for me. man o'grady's daughter, here was me chanct 'give ye a kiss, is it?' says she, replyin' to wan to beat dinnis out after all by workin' on the of me suggistions i'd made whilst tryin' to poor girl's heart and makin' an alley of her. siparate two of thim ants what had met on a “and is it mr. michael o'grady is your street-corner and was havin' a free-for-all on father?' i asks, careless-like. me bare skin. “come over and give ye a kiss, “the same, says she, “and do ye know is it? and ye settin' there mumblin' about a him?' oath ye took whin ye was drivin' the pig home "thin i told her as much of the truth as i in the old country! and did ye take anny thought would be doin' her no harm, but also oath about makin' the woman do the run- narratin' imprissive how dinnis had been nin' after? och, patsy dear, if ye was after persuadin' me to take a bit of a nap, me meanin' the half of what ye've been sayin' to bein' tired from workin’so hard, and thin wint me—and faith, 'twould not be runnin' after and slipped off to the old man, tellin' him i me to move over but the few feet they are was just a frind who'd come along for com atween us!! pany, which would 'a' been true if it had hap “can ye guess bein' put like that, and me pened, and maybe it did. with the back of me lookin' like a plate of “annyways, i wint to work in earnest and alphabet soup! and wouldn't ‘down with if i'd been makin' love to her afore, after that the pope and tammany!' be a fine card for i fair drawed the heart out of her. it was the daughter of michael o'grady, and her almost like makin' love to old man o'grady blushin' and waitin' for me to come and kiss himsilf, though the face and winnin' ways of her! her was enough in thimsilves. i'm not the “at the sound of some wan comin' along man to be boastin' of such things, but it was the road i begun givin'thanks to all the saints, but a short time till i could see mesilf in a wan by wan and all togither, and katy come polayceman's uniform arrestin' dinnis for to her feet, grabbin' up her berry pail, but "so hilp me hiven, they wasn't a mark on me!" afore she could reach the road she give a little out of his head. “why,' says she, ‘he was squeal: tellin' me he'd took a oath-i was but passin' "och,' she says, stoppin' in her tracks, the time of day to him as i wint by,' she 'it's me father himsilf!' says, seein' she was makin' trouble for hersilf. “and him it was, and dinnis o'toole, 'he said he'd took a oath to-to-but- walkin' arm in arm as thick as ye please. "oath?' says dinnis, laughin', the spal- "i'm glad of that same,' says i. "now do peen! 'faith, i'm bettin' all me hopes of ye be leavin' it all to me, katy darlin', and paradise i can be guessin' it was wan of two we'll give mr. o'toole what he's deservin', things! come, now, patsy me boy,' says he, bad scran to him, and me oath would 'a' been actin' like he was payin' me a frindly compli- busted to smithereens if they'd waited but the mint, 'which wan was it? have ye been wan minute more!' swearin' off ag'in on gallivantin' after the “just thin old mr. o'grady claps his eyes girls, or is it the liquor ye put your oath on on her. "and what are ye doin' here, now,' this time? sure,' he says, turnin' to the oth- he calls out to her, 'gabbin' with a man what's ers, 'it's his tinder conscience makes me like a stranger to ye? if i wasn't knowin' him too him, and if the girls would be leavin' him sick to move, i'd be boxin' both thim ears of alone and he wasn't so good-lookin', he'd make less trouble for the hearts of thim. as "sick?' says she, lookin' first at me and regardin' the liquor, now, i'm not sayin' but thin at him. what- “yis,' says the old man, close to her by “ye're a murderin' liar, dinnis o'toole!' now, ‘he was so sick in the head of him that i yells at him whin i could catch me breath his frind mr. o'toole here—me daughter from the treach'ry of him, mixin' the truth katy, mr. o'toole—had to leave him here with black lies to ruin me chanct with katy like the doctor said, till he come to. and are and the old man! 'if i could be gittin' on me ye feelin' a bit better, mr. moran, and no feet i'd break ivry bone in your sneakin' offinse to ye?' says he, lookin' down at me body!' i says, chokin' with the rage that was ag'inst me tree. on me and cursin' the paint on me back that "sick!' says she ag'in, disgusted, but kept me from killin' him. barely noddin' to dinnis, who was bowin’and “oh,' says he, swellin' up the chist of him, scrapin' to her with the eyes of him stickin' 'words is easy things, but i'd be makin' ye eat yours!' patsy moran and the orange paint thim ye've just spoke if ye wasn't out of your oily lips of him, but omittin' about katy and head with the sickness, and can't ye take a wan or two other things. bit of jokin' from a frind?' he says. “and “it done me good to see o'grady beginnin' what is the matter with ye, annyways? to scowl at dinnis as i wint on with me story, “hell was hiven be the side of that minute. though katy laughed a bit wanct or twict. as here was that big lyin' gomach insultin' me for dinnis himsilf, ye couldn't tell what was and spoilin' me last chanct with katy and the goin' on inside him, but his face was red and polayce force, and me growin' in the ground his lips twitchin' so i thought he was on the like i was a toadstool! i could see she was idge of cryin'. talkin' to dinnis a bit from spite, believin' i'd “but the impidence of him! the minute been de sayvin' of her and thinkin' me a cow- the last word was out of me mouth he steps ard and a lunytic besides that, and o'grady up to old man o'grady, bold as ye please, himsilf, the old spancelled goat, was regardin' though his mouth was still trimblin' round me like i was two lunytics and drunk wans at the corners. that. dinnis, the wretch, was smilin'wan “mr. o'grady,' says he, his voice shakin', of thim sweet smiles of his and whisperin' to 'whin ye are through listenin' to me ixcited katy confidintial, seein' himself on the po- frind mr. moran, i'll be askin' another word layce force foriver by reason of bein' mar with ye about whin i'm to join the force. and ried to o'grady's own daughter. and that at the same time, sor,' he says, sinkin' his not bein' enough to tormint me, i begun voice so katy couldn't hear him, but i could, feelin' thim ants ag'in crawlin' all over me, bein' nearer, 'and at the same time, sor,' says furious. he, easy and cheerful, “i'll be askin' your per- “all to wanct me quick wits and me good mission to pay me court to your daughter!' judgmint come back to me and i seen that “old man o'grady spun round on him havin' nothin' to choose from, they was but and give him a look like he would bite him, wan thing to do. i couldn't in anny way look and dinnis turned his back and run, throwin' more of a fool than i was lookin' already and himsilf down on the ground a little ways off i might as well be showin' dinnis up for an- and rollin' about with his face covered with other, and maybe,, by destroyin' his chanct his hands and his body shakin' like his with the both of thim, i could build up me troubles was murderin' him. the old man own ag'in. and annyways, whin ye've fell turned to me wanct more: from the elivinth-story window they ain't no “git up, thin, and let's see thim letters on more can happen ye after hittin' the ground. ye, me frind,' says o'grady. “listen, mr. o'grady, and you, miss “faith,' i says, blushin', 'they're that o'grady,' says i, lookin' up at thim, and with humiliaytin' i ain't seen thim mesilf yit, but the sound of me own voice i seen how fine me the shame's none of me own for all that, plan was and that dinnis was as good as done though i'm wishin' miss o'grady would be for. 'i'll tell ye the whole truth from the lookin' the other way,' i says, gittin' up slow beginnin' and ye can judge atween the two by reason of wan of me legs bein' asleep, and of us!' turnin' me back round to him. “at wanct dinnis quit whisperin' and wint “just thin dinnis let out a laugh like he a bit white in the face, but i wint right on, was a lunytic entirely and the nixt minute keepin' me eyes on all three of thim and tellin' o'grady busted out himsilf and katy joined thim all of it-how dinnis betrayed our agree in with thim, laughin' so it made me weak mint and painted thim blaspheemous letter with the shame of it! in's on me, so he could ruin me with his lyin' "i made wan grab at me coat, tearin' it off tongue whilst i was helpless—me irish pride me and twistin' round at the same time to see keepin' me from movin’so anny wan could see the backs of me legs, and so hilp me hiven, me back-clean down to the lies just off the they wasn't a mark on me!”. little stories of real life the error of circumstance ticed a cab tearing toward her from the left. they both yelled, and the motorman clanged by joseph kocheli a tattoo on the bell as rapidly as his stiffened leg permitted, but the driver seemed neither m ost of the day “big” kerrigan had to hear nor to see. driven “ " through a wild storm the woman looked up startled, made as if of hail and slush, and the last hour he had to dash ahead, faltered, and turned back; been obliged fairly to cling to his brake. the then in bewildered fright she slipped to her front of his heavy, high-collared ulster, his knees close to the side of the track on the draggled beard, and the big mitts encasing his right, and in another second kerrigan had stiffened fingers rasped and crackled under sent the current full into the car so that it their iced coating with his every movement. leaped ahead and pushed its big, round nose when the car swung around the last curve in just between the woman lying there and the of the run, the wind caught him at such an hoofs of the horse that would have trampled angle that it nearly pulled him from his grip, on her. a moment after, from a jumbled but he bent over a little more and pushed the mass of splintered wreckage, the horse kicked car along with all the speed she would take. free and bolted into the night, and the driver a thousand yards away blinked the lights of scrambled to his feet unhurt from where he the sheds, at the end of the trip, where it was had been pitched into the street, and came warm, and where there would be coffee black at kerrigan with a curse. and hot. jimmy allen had swung down, picked up then, just before the last crossing, he the woman and carried her to the curb, and jammed on the brakes so hard that jimmy when he came back the other two were allen, the conductor, busy inside with the clenched in a wild struggle. count of fares, was carried completely off his with the heel of his left hand under the feet and sprawled upon the floor. other's chin and one knee doubled against “what in blazes!” he muttered as he got him, kerrigan broke his hold, shoved him up dazed and with his sleeve rubbed a spot away, and stood panting. suddenly the clear on the frosted window behind the plat driver stooped and snatched up his whip, form. he peered out, but it was too dark which a near-by sputtering arc light disclosed to see, so he impatiently pulled open the at his feet. then, even in the act of straight- doors and stepped out behind kerrigan. ening up, he lashed kerrigan across the face. it was a woman on the track ahead, strug- kerrigan howled as he felt the cut. he gling against the wind, with head down, to rushed in and struck out furiously with his get across from their right, for whom kerrigan right, forgetting the brass controller it had stopped. they watched her for a mo- clenched. the driver ducked, but caught the ment, then in the same instant they both no- blow fairly between the eyes. he stiffened, little stories of real life then crumpled up limply, like a rag, and a huge barrier of a lumber pile rose before kerrigan bent over him, horrified, watching him. it would have to be surmounted. he entranced a thin line of blood creep slowly dared not make his way around it outside down the upturned face. the line of trucks. the tapping of many police sticks ahead and to the rear, beyond a crowd collected. men ran over from the that line, told him that they had guessed his car sheds. others near by, who had heard way of escape. the crash of the collision, came hurrying to unobserved the storm had been rapidly the scene. over the way, a man pulled open clearing away overhead. when he had clam- the door of a saloon and half shut it again bered half-way up on the projecting ends of as the cold air struck him. but he noted that the boards, the moonlight filtered through the something unusual had happened and turned clouds and silhouetted his figure sharply, and spoke to others in the room. then out suspended as he was. he loosed his hold of a little entrance at the side there emerged and dropped quickly back to the ground, a policeman, surly at having been disturbed, but they had seen him. a reaction from the pulling at his belt. terrible overstrain swept over him and left as he pressed his way through the crowd him exhausted. he doubled back along the from one side, kerrigan rose hurriedly from path for a moment, then dragging his feet the heap on the road, plunged through the wearily, he crept in among a number of large other side, and ran. some one shouted that trucks. he had killed a man, but he had gained a he got into one and pulled himself for- block before the shrill blast of a whistle be- ward, crouching under the overhanging seat. hind him told that they had taken up the he was no more than half conscious of the chase. search that was drawing in a narrowing line he threw off his heavy coat and doubled his about his refuge. he felt that he did not care. speed, searching out he heard their as he ran the places curses as they where the lights searched. he was from the street lamps giving them a bad fell the least. he night's work, and he abruptly changed his was somehow glad course, as he thought of it. of the near-by river- when they reached front. it was lucky his truck they saw he did so. from the him immediately. direction in which he with a hoarse shout had been traveling two of them sprang came an answering up on the tail end. blast, and the sharp when they saw that distinctive rap of a he was barehanded, police night-stick on they slipped their the flagging. he pistols back into their gained a great space pockets. with a stretching along the beastly snarl they river edge where rows came at him, their upon rows of trucks long clubs ready. and carts were sta- then the answer- tioned for the night ing lust of battle in the open. flared up passionately he dashed among in kerrigan, and them. there he had when they had come to move more slowly, half-way he dashed picking his way. between the last row of carts at them full breast to breast. perhaps there and the water a narrow path extended for a was still a way of escape. but though this distance, and realizing that, he tried to run unexpected move sent them blundering back more quietly. it was the warehouse district, and off the truck in a tangle, he saw that there possible night-watchmen had to be avoided. were too many others scattered around below smiths louis fanchen then he had no further chance. everybody's magazine for him to cope with. they swarmed about was hurrying along close to my home, and like a pack of hounds, and he realized that it i'd have run her down, cap', my own wife.” would go hard with him for the fight he had kerrigan heard the talk of many voices made. well, he would make them pay. breaking out at once, and then they hushed. he had wrenched the club from one of the the people were all looking at him. he had men he had tumbled off, and standing tensely drawn himself away from hands that regret- waiting for them, his back to the driver's fully slipped from his shoulders. he stood up seat, he held them irresolute. a head and with an effort, and tried to see clearly through arm rose cautiously over the edge of the seat the ruddy mist gathering before his eyes. behind him, and while they rushed him from this was the man who had struck him all sides, a night-stick thudded against his with the whip—what came after that did skull, and then he had no further chance. not seem to matter. and the woman was his after a while, when they had done their wife. that's what had brought them there duty as they knew it, they dragged him, piti- to speak for him. and they would let him fully mud- and blood-bespattered, to the pre- go; he was slowly trying to grasp it all. of cinct station. from a distance they saw that course they'd let him go. the woman was outside in the glare of the lights from the the driver's wife; that seemed to count. windows had gathered a crowd. word of what if she had been some other wom- their coming was passed along. some one an- ? the pitiful injustice of the price met them at the door. he had paid ... “he's in there--the man he hurt,” he agroan tore from his heaving chest. with volunteered as they dragged kerrigan up the clenched hands he raised his arms impotently steps. so the man had not been killed, and before him, and fell forward on his face un- was there to enter a complaint-well, they conscious. had had their satisfaction for their trouble. it was a job well done. a young surgeon from an emergency hos- “gran'ma's” pital near by passed by them on his way out. he glanced at their captive, and then stopped by charlotte wilson and followed. he would be needed. they yanked kerrigan through the door jt was the cackling of the speckled pullet way and stood blinking in the light inside. i that did it. until that moment i had two of them pushed him forward, but he supposed myself to be an ordinary grown swayed and they had to hold him up. he person, passing by a cluttered yard in a stared dully before him. grimy suburb, where a few draggled chickens he had killed a man and fought the police. were scratching about, and a black-and- they had beaten him, and would throw him white goat was engaged in the commendably into a cell, and maybe beat him again. he orthodox pursuit of devouring the label on an had nothing else to expect. he was dimly old tomato can. i have never heard, even in conscious of the crowd around him. a a fairy-tale, of a magician's assuming the woman's voice cried, “oh, my god!” and form either of a speckled pullet or a black- there seemed to be some commotion. and-white goat. nevertheless, the speckled the police captain was leaning over the pullet cackled, and behold! it was—it is-a desk. before him stood a woman, the one summer morning, and i am just waking up who had cried out. she was pointing at the at gran'ma's. pitiable prisoner, and sobbing. she clung it is one of the finest things in life to wake to the arm of a man who, at her gesture, up in the morning and find that i am at turned a bandaged face to kerrigan and gran'ma's. there is a golden meaning in started toward him. to kerrigan it seemed the air. for the first radiant instant i am that his voice came from afar off, muffled, quite bewildered; then i remember it all- through the folds of the white linen strips, and my arrival last night with gran’pa in the he had a dull sense of having heard it before. wagon, the blissful feeling in my cramped · the man turned back excitedly to the legs as he lifted me down, the shepherd dog's police captain. joyous yelp of welcome, gran’ma's smile- “it's wrong, cap', i tell you; it's wrong!” wrinkled face as she came down the steps to he exclaimed. he motioned at the woman. take me in her arms, and-oh, vividest vision “i'd have killed her but for what he did. i of all!—the glimpse, as we passed under the little stories of real life louis fancher honeysuckles on the porch, of the lighted she was the red chief's only child supper-table, laden with all the delectables and sought by many a brave; but to the gallant young white cloud sacred and peculiar to gran'ma's. it all her plighted troth she gave- comes back to me as i lie looking about the little chamber, all aglow with the sunlight and so on to the catastrophe. the tune is a that bursts through the cracks in the shutters. sort of dirge or chant, weird and moving; and gran'ma is gone the total effect is from my side, heartrending, and and there is the much to my taste. finest aroma of so i lie and watch coffee creeping the spear of sun- into the chamber; light that strikes and by these to- across the tawny kens i know that deer in the pic- she has slipped ture, until my out long since to eyes close again, get breakfast, and i am in dan- leaving me sleep- ger of floating ing. the air is back into that dim sweet with linden- region of golden blossoms, and dreams whence i full of the busy, came, taking the cheerful noises i spotted fawn love so: the "po- with me; when, of track! po-track!” a sudden, i hear of the guinea- the rattle of the fowls, the hysteric tin milk-pails, cackle of an over- and the sound zealous pullet, brings me bolt the pompous, upright at once. foolish enthusiasm of a strutting gobbler; should i miss the milking, one of the events the clatter of dishes in the kitchen; the noise of my day would be lost. so i hurry into of the iron pump; the cow-bells with their my clothes, putting a stocking on wrong side cheerful morning tinkle, so different from out, and leaving unbuttoned the difficult and the pensive little thread of sound that tangled inaccessible buttons between shoulder-blades; itself among my heart-strings last night; the give a dab or two with the brush at my tangled whistling and laughter of the negroes, and curls, and, as a heroic measure, prepare to one of my uncles singing, already far afield. wash my face in order to get the happy sleep i lift the corner of the curtain and peep out, out of my eyes. the very water at gran'ma's with happy eyes blurred with sleep; it is all is different; for we use water out of a mere a blaze of sunshine across the yellow dog- prosaic well, while gran'ma gets it out of a fennel. my heart leaps in answer to the rain-barrel at the corner of the house. it invitation; i must be up, and dressed, and has a faint, pleasant, pungent odor; and as i out, at once! yet it is so pleasant here in the plunge my face into it i see in imagination little sun-bathed chamber, with the drowsy the water tumbling down the gutter and fragrance of the linden-blossoms, where the foaming into the barrel as i have often de- bees are humming outside! how well i lightedly watched it do in the fragrant fury know the pictures on the wall, every one of a summer rain-storm. but i am glad it one is a little picture of deer feeding; and i is not raining this morning; i am glad that always associate it with a song gran'ma sings the sun is dazzling across the dog-fennel, called “the spotted fawn." as i lie look and that the path down to the cowpen is ing at it, i seem to hear gran’ma's sweet, dusty and white and soft-ah! transporting solemn, quavery voice singing the song: thought! suppose gran’ma says i may go barefoot—"barefooted," i always say. a on maccatua's flowery marge little girl may not go barefooted at home; the spotted fawn had birth; and grew as fair an indian girl but at gran'ma's— as ever blest the earth. i emerge at last upon the sunlit porch, i peep out with happy eyes blurred with sleep. everybody's magazine just in time to see a ruby-throated humming- that rapture is redeemed by its intensity! at bird dart away from a honeysuckle spray, gran’ma's breakfast-table i take the de- over gran’pa's head. gran’pa is sitting lighted response of the palate with the primal there with his chair tilted back, mending greed and innocent sense of proprietorship harness and singing a funny tune to himself. with which i lay hold upon any other joy. i he is trying to look very preoccupied and am not of those who have eaten of the tree unconscious, but i know the tune is for my of knowledge of the digestible and the indi- benefit; and as for the harness-mending, i gestible, and become as pessimists; who have regard it, as i do all the other work about thought a raw turnip to be sin, and behold! it the farm, in exactly the light in which i am was sin. indeed, it is not only from gran’- later on to regard the comic-opera peasants- ma's sunny breakfast-table, and from her merely as picturesque adjuncts to the main savory dinner-table, where chicken and dump- business of my entertainment. (indeed, ling is but the sumptuous prelude to a crown- when i come to see otherwise, the glory will ing glory of lemon-pie; and from the sweet have departed from gran'ma's; but i am dark supper-table, lighted by a solitary kero- spared that knowledge.) sene lamp, where the smell of the lindens and as i slip into the place gran’ma has saved honeysuckle without blends with the poetry of for me at the breakfast-table, i inquire anx hot biscuits and honey and pear preserves iously whether they have gone to milk yet; within—it is not only from these lawful pleas- for i hear a warning clatter of the pails, and ures that i seldom take harm, but it is the my uncle's receding voice singing in exact rarest thing in the world that my foragings in imitation of the negro intonation: orchard and berry-patch, and along the very o! nebber min' dat win' an' rain, roadside, leave behind them a reminiscent a-ridin' on dat gravel-train! pang. the primitive man, “dependent,” as put me off an' i'll a-git on again, my school-books of later years are to inform o! a-gwine on to glory! me, “upon roots and herbs for subsistence," and then, as the same irresistible strain comes could not have found more things, and more back, in a glorious lilt- unlikely things, to eat ing, still receding than i do. i peck at whistle, ending in a still “peppergrass” as per- more distant clatter of sistently as a canary; the pails, i know before for the pods and stalks gran'ma tells me that of the wild oxalis, which they have just gone, and i call “sour-grass," my that if i make haste appetite is insatiable; i with my breakfast i roam the fields chewing may watch them. and sassafras bark, though then, indeed, i am torn i am dimly aware that between two desires; for i do not like the taste before me is a saucer of it; and i have an of oatmeal, and a little odd, unchildlike con- pitcher of thick yellow sciousness, sometimes, cream — the cream at that even after i am home, of course, is white grown up, the flavor of —and a plate of gran'- “mint” will always ma's biscuit, and a dish take me back to the of gran’ma's own gold- shady lane where it en butter, and oh! grows—one of the dear- crowning joy! a cup of est haunts of all, where actual coffee, mild and the birds sing all day rich with cream, which at home i am never allowed to drink long and the grape- gran'ma assures me vines swing from tree will “do me good”; to tree. i should drink whereas at home i am never allowed to drink the milk of the milkweed if it were not bit- ter, and i must have tasted it at some for- oh, appetite of first innocence, when eating gotten time to know that it is. i do not know is still an experience, and the grossness of how it happens that i never eat anything a drop. a drop. little stories of real life fot. i creep into my uncle's arms and nestle there. violently poisonous, for i have been warned against most of the things i do eat-being, with all my outward docility, the kind of child who catches a bee in her sunbonnet to find out if it will sting, and eats things to see if they are dangerous-nibbling away with the dubious lips and introspective gaze of the taster. but if, by chance, something in the mixture does prove disastrous, there is still balm in gilead; for on such occa- sions gran'ma gives me jamaica ginger, weakened with water and sweetened —which i like better, if possible, than any of the offending substances i have eaten. at home mother sometimes gives me jamaica ginger, but it is a stinging, unattractive dose; for she gives it sternly un- sweetened, objecting on principle to offering a reward for affliction. but at last i tear myself away from the breakfast-table and its delights, and hasten down to the cowpen, where the pretty, thin, shaky little calves, wabbling around on their tentative legs, are huddling about the gate. i am never weary of petting and admiring them. but gran’pa or one of my uncles discovers me and calls to me that i may come in-an invitation i have been shyly awaiting. i draw the bolt and make my way across, past meditative bess and cherry and star and the rest, chewing their cuds and regarding me with a calm and hostile disdain. i will not show that i am afraid, nor would i forego the journey; but my small gingham breast shelters the highest quality of courage, for i have a vivid expectation of being whisked aloft on a pair of sharp horns at any moment, until i am safe at gran’pa's side. sometimes he lets me milk; but i never penetrate far into the mysteries of the art. he prefers to have me stand by—and i am well content, watching the two strong white streams shoot- ing down into the foaming pail. when at last the bars are raised, and the long file of cows winds down the sumach-bordered road to the pasture, i roam away to seek other diversions. it would be long to tell how i spend the day—the longest, goldenest, brightest day in all the world. i am free to roam where i please: the pastures, the meadows, the garden, the woods—where once in a while i catch a flash of bright eyes and gray tail as a squirrel whisks to the opposite side of a tall live-oak, and where there is always the exhilarat- ingly awful possibility of stepping on a water moc- casin or a rattlesnake. i never grow lonely and never tired—unless it be with the happy weariness of eyes and feet that sends me to rummage in the old bookcase in the little dark room where a picture of my mother as a very little girl hangs upon the wall: a very round-eyed little girl, holding in her hand a flower-stalk out of which several distinct and novel species of flowers are romantically blossom- ing. ah, the smell of the old volumes, and the delightful sensation of knowing i may read what i choose! i usually choose some immoral work i am forbidden to read at home, because it is "too old for me”- “bracebridge hall” or “david copperfield,” for instance—and more often than not i take it out under the “big basswood” behind the house; and while the white butterflies drift across the dog-fennel, i read, and read, and read, to my heart's content. and then i am off again across the orchard, or perhaps to the field where my uncle is plowing; there to sit on the fence-rail, in a perfect affliction of happiness, sniffing in the odors of the new-plowed ground, while my uncle's voice as he sings at his work comes back across the furrows, and my eye follows the jaunty figure, in flannel shirt and blue overalls, with a passionate ardor of hero- worship. then, some time in the long brightness of the day comes the dinner-horn; and later on, through the endless hours, a great dark green watermelon is brought cool and dripping from the milk-trough, and we all assemble under the honeysuckle on the porch and discuss its merits as we eat; one uncle being the partizan of the melon we had yesterday, and the other crying up the merits of to-day's, and i, teasingly pressed for my everybody's magazine opinion, torn as usual between my two allegiances. the uncle who pets me is my idol; but the uncle who teases me appeals strongly both to the feminine respect for a man who snubs one, and to the infantile passion for a tormentor; and though i am ever loyal to my hero, i am occasionally in sore straits between the two. and while we eat, the chickens and turkeys crowd noisily around the steps, quarreling and scrambling over the seeds; and bruce, the collie, sits at the teasing uncle's elbow and exhibits his acquired taste for watermelon with great gravity and decorum. and then, at last, as the day wears on, i begin to feel the approach of that time longed for and dreaded—the ineffable coun- try evening, with its loveliness, its loneliness, its unspeakable sweetness. the odors begin to rise; the sun sets across the lane where the mint grows, again for the milking; this time i sit silent upon the fence in the darkness, listening to the foaming milk, and to the contented sighs of the cows, and to the whippoorwill calling, calling, calling. and i look off at the black encircling woods round about me, and up at the fathomless opal blue of the sky, and at the stars looking down. and when the milking is done and supper is over, and the "smoke" is made on the porch to keep off the mosquitoes, and the chairs are drawn out, i creep into my uncle's arms that open for me, and nestle there, silent, the whole evening through- grateful for this dear, partial refuge from the insupportable sweetness of the night. then, when bedtime is announced, how cheerful and quaint and comforting the old sitting-room looks, with its pictures i cannot remember ever seeing for the first time- pictures of jesus and mary and the beloved disciple, standing wrapped in purple dra- peries upon clouds of silver. and how good it is to know that i shall sleep with gran’ma in the little chamber, and not alone with the spotted fawn as i awakened; and i lift the curtain after i am ready for bed and take a scared peep out across the dark, ghostly yard, where the bees were humming and the dog- fennel was all adazzle this morning. and then, safe in bed, i cuddle close to gran’ma. the smell of the lindens is still in the cham- ber. and outside the whippoorwills call, and the owls hoot, and i fall asleep. attracting as to an eternal home the yearning soul- with one tall, blasted tree in the field across the road silhouetted black and stark against the west. the far-off tinkle of the cow-bells begins; the first whippoorwill sends its lovely cry piercing swiftly through the dusk. i want my mother, my home—something, i know not what. in a sort of disconsolate ecstasy i follow the men down to the cowpen after summer rain by v. f. boyson the wind passes by the still trees and plain, cool with rain, to the sky. comes a rift across the wide cloud spaces, cloud-waves breaking, breaking, breaking, showing dream worlds in the making, changing, passing, passing, leaving for last traces wonders of rainy gold and swan-soft whiteness lifted far and fair in the luminous air till the blue has won. sheer through the living, sparkling brightness, in rainbow gleams across the distance, on the near trees' wet boughs, young leaves, shadow, fire, and earth scent, streams the sun. palls es a row of books by johan barrett in the may number of everybody's mr. with defiant and inspired passion to voice the bit- brand whitlock arraigned the justice and efficacy ter knowledge of his own experience and that of of our penal system in an article entitled “what his inarticulate fellows. his narrative (one can good does it do?" he has, in terms of a differ- hardly call it a story, so completely does it disdain ent medium, expressed the same convictions and the factitious aids of plot and climax and dénoue- asked the same question in his novel “the turn ment) gives us the history of a russian mill hand of the balance" (bobbs-merrill). the article, in his struggle for social and intellectual inde- if one may so express it, was his brief in a case in pendence. but the artist in the author has not equity; the novel is his bill of particulars. it as allowed him to discard these traditional supports sumes to lay bare for the inspection of its readers without supplying an element of cohesion to re- a typical cross-section of life in an american city place them. and this element, as the title indi- of the middle west, illustrating in concrete form cates, is the wonderful study of the protagonist's his claim that "there is no criminal class; there is mother. this character is the artistic center of the simply a punished class, or a caught class.” it work; and this ignorant old peasant, who belongs has, and one must assume that it was intended to to another and a less rebellious generation, who have, the effect of a big slice cut at random from understands nothing of her son's studies, or plots, the social layer-cake; a slice which happens, quite or self-dedication, and yet gives herself heart and by accident, to compose into a story. its real body to his aims, invests the whole grim, plodding interest is sociological, not fictional. its real tragedy with a pathetic and appealing beauty. achievement is its enabling us to focus the every- day human in the professional thief. it has the temerity to extend itself over some six hundred pages of print, yet so sprinkles them with intrin- sically interesting material as to make them it is eloquent of our attitude toward reading in readable. these helter-skelter times that one instinctively qualifies one's recommendation of any book which, whatever may be its charm of atmosphere or exhalation of personality, does not come there is, however, another new book which, quickly to its particular point and have done with while it belongs, broadly speaking, in the same it. yet there are, surely, thousands of us to fictional category as mr. whitlock's novel, towers whom any book which expresses the leisure that head and shoulders above it both in its artistic we lack is a boon, and to whom quiet intercourse qualities and as a plea for justice. this is maxim (even in print) with a non-strenuous personality gorky's “mother” (appleton). it also presents, is a rest-cure and a refreshment. such a book was as it were, a rough chunk, hewn out of life just as “the belovéd vagabond," already referred to in it lay and allowed to speak its own message. these notes and well worth referring to again; but it is a chunk of a very different ore, fused and and such a book, on totally different lines, is crystallized in the heat of an inspiration far more charles d. stewart's “partners of providence" elemental. this method, this "chunk" method, (century). this represents the attempt of a is essentially modern; it was first developed by young pilot's “cub" on the missouri river of the european writers; and, skilfully used, it is an in 'bo's to tell how he played a part in a romantic tensely effective adaptation of art to the purposes episode of the frontier. but the story is only the of propaganda. mr. whitlock used it with only rudimentary backbone that prevents the narra- half-hearted courage and to gain a hearing for an tive from being an invertebrate. the boy is altruistic enthusiasm. gorky has employed it as shrewd, as curious, as inconsequent as any everybody's magazine other cub. he is off on every tangent. his tions, that it is worth while to read it, though stubby finger is in every pie. and as we follow necessary to read it at the right time. it intro- him, laughing and rejuvenated, the whole river, duces us to an interesting coterie of students and with its rough, haphazard, kaleidoscopic life, un- their elders in the edinburgh of some fifty years folds before us and takes on the form and color of ago, when the first waves from the religious up- reality. the story is, of its kind, one of the very heaval of the oxford movement were breaking on best things of the year. the rocks of the scotch kirk. it induces us, for no other reason than pure liking for the individuals themselves, to follow their lives for some years, and although the story dwindles to a deferred and negligible conclusion, its impress will linger but the fact remains that the great number of most agreeably as part of our conception of the old city. readers have, in the conditions, neither the op- portunity nor, any longer, the inclination to yield themselves to a book. except, indeed, in the sense in which we yield ourselves to an electric car-in order to get to some definite place as there are few things that impress themselves quickly as possible. we take a book, as we take more pleasantly upon our minds than the shock a headache powder or a strychnin tablet, for a of being “agreeably disappointed.” when, for definite purpose at a particular moment; and in instance, circumstances throw us into the com- both cases we now have the formula of ingredients pany of an acquaintance whose uttermost depths and the directions for use plainly printed on the we had thought to have fathomed, and the outside of the package. such books are not result is a revelation of unguessed possibilities. legitimate subjects of criticism. the only office there is some such fillip as this to one's enjoy- of the reviewer in their respect is to try them and ment of mrs. alfred sidgwick's amusing story declare whether, in his opinion, they work. take, called “the kinsman " (macmillan). one dis- for instance, "poison island” (scribner), by a. covers, almost at the beginning, that the story, t. quiller-couch. this is a literary strychnin whatever it is to be, turns upon the startlingly tablet, one-thirtieth grain. its exhilarating ac- perfect physical resemblance between a good-for- tion is almost instantaneous. it is an exciting nothing, self-complacent cockney clerk and his and realistic tale of mysterious (and, incidentally, distant cousin, a gentleman of means and breed- impossible) horrors in the mid-pacific, told with ing from australia. and one almost shies at the “q.'s" quick and accurate grasp of character and clank of the familiar mechanism. the assump- complete absorption in his own inventions. or, tion, one feels, has been worn until it is positively take "felicity," the story of the making of a great baggy at the knees, and one hesitates to put it on. comedienne (scribner), by clara e. laughlin. but already something about this cockney mr. this is a mild and perfectly safe sedative, which gammage has caught one's attention, and the will induce, without any after-reaction, a grateful further one follows his unspeakable career the consciousness of sensibility and sentiment. it more laughingly does one acquiesce in his ability cannot, however, be swallowed hastily, but must to compensate one for the poor excuse his chroni- be allowed to melt on the tongue-four hundred cler offers for the introduction. the plot wears and odd pages of it. the cap and bells quite frankly from first to last. but mr. gammage and his lady-loves are flesh and blood beneath the motley. from a certain point of view, and very casually speaking, we may, i take it, classify the returns that we draw from the common run of current it might now be a good plan to take a turn fiction under the two heads of entertainment and through that part of the literary field where the companionship. we may, for instance, draw short-story crop is waiting to be harvested-or entertainment (and that of the liveliest order) would it be more appropriate to say picked? since from a story whose characters concern us no one does not harvest garden truck and the com- more than the tumblers at a circus. or we maymon or garden short story makes up an over- find the pleasure of almost actual intimacy with whelming proportion of the season's yield. in characters whose story, in outline, has neither fact, while the total visible supply is more abun- dramatic force nor sympathetic appeal. the dant this spring than for several years, there is but choice is a matter of temperament; or, if one is one volume that may be classed with the grains fortunate enough to have a catholic taste, of mood rather than with the vegetables. this is israel and the moment's need. "growth” (henry zangwill's “ghetto comedies" (macmillan), a holt), by graham travers, is a novel that belongs collection of some fifteen studies and stories so indisputably in the second division and yet of london and new york types. they are offers such pleasant company in spite of its limita- comedies only in the sense of being based upon a row of books the humor of pathetic things or upon the pathetic incongruity of tragic ones. but it is here that mr. zangwill's humor excels. his forte is the jew d'esprit, not the jeu d'esprit, as those who recall “the celibates' club" will confess. no more tenderly clear-sighted picture, for instance, was ever given us than that of the bafflingly guile- ful guilelessness of the expatriated hebrew in the first story of this volume, “the model of sor- rows.” nish of carl ewald, and called “the spider” (scribner). it is written in the attitude of respect- ful seriousness toward nonsense that children love, and at the same time illustrates very subtly the author's ideas in regard to educational candor. but the humbler tales, no less than the radishes and lettuces, have their uses and their welcome. f. hopkinson smith spins a characteristically genial lot of his half-reminiscent yarns in “the veiled lady” (scribner); yarns that he has spun from a glimpsed face or a chance word, caught in passing up and down the world. as always, his writing carries with it the cozy sug- gestion of drawn blinds, a crackling fire, and the personal presence of the narrator." and robert w. chambers, in “the tree of heaven” (ap- pleton), has let his versatile enthusiasm play for a while in the ghostly precincts of the society for psychical research. his tales vary greatly in the measure of their convincingness, but several of them are quite successfully and satisfactorily creepy. “the pickwick ladle" (scribner) includes a half-dozen stories by winfield scott moody, which are striking chiefly on account of their novelty. they deal with the joys and perils of the chase of antique furniture and oriental porcelains; and what they lack in crispness of construction they make up in the presentation of the happy hunting-grounds and the esoteric jar- gon of this engrossing hobby. other books “ackroyd of the faculty”—(little, brown). a story of considerable merit by anna chapin ray, depicting a difficult adjustment between the professional democracy and the social exclusive- ness of a university town. “langford of the three bars”—(a. c. mc- clurg). a story of cattle thieves and the open range, written by kate and virgil d. boyles, and a pleasant variant of the conventional ranch fiction. “where the trail divides”—(dodd, mead). by will lillibridge. another cowboy fiction, but with an indian hero and a grandiloquent manner that suggests a cross between the last of the mohicans and pizen spider bill. “as the hague ordains”—(henry holt). an interesting volume which purports to be the diary of a russian lady attending her husband in the japanese war prison at matsuyama. jo “studies in pictures"-(scribner). by john c. van dyke. a handbook on the european galleries for the conversational guidance of the traveling philistine. “the efficient life”—(doubleday, page). by doctor luther h. gulick. one of the best of the recent horde of guides to health, which we read with enthusiasm and forget with alacrity. “the truth about the congo”—(forbes). a reprint of reprint of prof. frederick starr's articles in the chicago tribune, giving his opinions based upon a year's residence and investigation. “the ferry of fate" _ (duffield). by samuel gordon. a story of two jewish students of southern russia, which works itself laboriously into an unimpressive tragedy. “under the sun”-(doubleday, page). a vol- ume of impressionistic but enjoyable chapters upon various cities of india, by percival landor. more confidently recommended to travelers than to stay-at-homes. this by no means exhausts the supply. “ti supply t. berius smith” (harper) is the title of a volume of munchausen-like tales by hugh pendexter, told in a vein of sustained high-pressure slang that is more amazing than the adventures of their hero. “smith of bear city” (grafton) is a book of western stories written by one george t. buffum, who has made very bad fiction out of some very good facts, under the mistaken im- pression that the only difference is one of diction; very much as some people keep a special voice to read aloud in. finally, there is a little volume of stories for children, translated from the da- maa under the spreading chestnut tree editor's note.-a good story is a treasure, and, like other precious things, hard to find. our read- ers can assist us, if they will, by sending any anecdotes they find that seem to them good. though the sign is the chestnut tree, no story is barred by its youth. the younger the better. we shall gladly pay for available ones. address all manuscripts to “the chestnut tree." the following appeal of a western editor is “whereupon the old soldier immediately drew still going the rounds, although it is to be hoped his sword and cut off his other arm." that by this time the writer's only trouble is in there is no particular reason to doubt this having his vest made large enough: story. the only question is, how did he do it? “we see by an esteemed contemporary that a young lady in chicago is so particular that she kneads bread with her gloves on. what of that? the editor of this paper needs bread with his coat on; he needs bread with his trousers on; in “don't you want to buy a bicycle to ride around fact he needs bread with all of his clothes on. your farm on?" asked the hardware clerk, as he and if some of his creditors don't pay up pretty was wrapping up the nails. “they're cheap quick he'll need bread without anything at all now. i can let you have a first-class one for on, and this western climate is no garden of $ .. eden." “i'd rather put $ in a cow," replied the farmer. “but think,” persisted the clerk, "how foolish you'd look riding around town on a cow." "they thought more of the legion of honor “oh, i don't know," said the farmer, stroking in the time of the first napoleon than they do his chin: "no more foolish. i guess, than i would now,” said a well-known frenchman. "the milkin' a bicycle." emperor one day met an old one-armed veteran. “how did you lose your arm?' he asked. "sire, at austerlitz.' "and were you not decorated?' shortly after two o'clock one bitter winter "no, sire.' morning a physician drove four miles in answer "then here is my own cross for you; i make to a telephone call. on his arrival the man who you chevalier.' had summoned him said: “your majesty names me chevalier because “doctor, i ain't in any particular pain, but i have lost one arm! what would your majesty somehow or other i've got a feeling that death is have done had i lost both arms?' nigh." "oh, in that case i should have made you the doctor felt the man's pulse and listened to officer of the legion.' his heart.. under the spreading chestnut tree “the husband takes off his coat, draws a re- volver, and in the midst of the silent embrace of hero and heroine, fires. “the young woman falls dead. "he fires again. the young man falls dead. "then the murderer comes forward, puts on a pair of eyeglasses, and proceeds to contemplate his sanguinary work. “great heavens!' he exclaims, 'i am on the wrong floor."" “have you made your will?” he asked finally. the man turned pale. “why, no, doctor. at my age-oh, doc, it ain't true, is it? it can't be true “who's your lawyer?” “higginbotham, but- “then you'd better send for him at once." the patient, white and trembling, went to the 'phone. “who's your pastor?” continued the doctor. “the rev. kellogg m. brown," mumbled the patient. “but, doctor, do you think- " "send for him immediately. your father, too, should be summoned; also your— " "say, doctor, do you really think i'm going to die?” the man began to blubber softly, the doctor looked at him hard. “no, i don't," he replied grimly. “there's nothing at all the matter with you. but i'd hate to be the only man you've made a fool of on a night like this." a wizened little irishman applied for a job loading a ship. at first they said he was too small, but he finally persuaded them to give him a trial. he seemed to be making good, and they gradually increased the size of his load until on the last trip he was carrying a -pound anvil under each arm. when he was half-way across the gangplank it broke and the irishman fell in with a great splashing and spluttering he came to the surface. “t'row me a rope!” he shouted, and again sank. a second time he rose to the surface. “t'row me a rope, i say!” he shouted again. once more he sank. a third time he rose struggling. "say!” he spluttered angrily, “if one uv you shpalpeens don't hurry up an' t'row me a rope i'm goin' to drop one uv these damn t’ings!” in a new york street a wagon loaded with lamp globes collided with a truck and many of the globes were smashed. considerable sym- pathy was felt for the driver as he gazed ruefully at the shattered fragments. a benevolent-look- ing old gentleman eyed him compassionately. "my poor man," he said, "i suppose you will have to make good this loss out of your own pocket?” “yep," was the melancholy reply. "well, well,” said the philanthropic old gentleman, "hold out your hat-here's a quarter for you; and i dare say some of these other people will give you a helping hand, too." the driver held out his hat and several per- sons hastened to drop coins in it. at last, when the contributions had ceased, he emptied the contents of his hat into his pocket. then, pointing to the retreating figure of the philan- thropist who had started the collection, he ob- served: “say, maybe he ain't the wise guy! that's me boss!” tactful and delicate, even for a frenchman, was the reply made by a parisian who had not found "a life on the ocean wave" all for which one could wish. he was sinking, pale and haggard, into his steamer-chair when his neigh- bor cheerily asked: “have you breakfasted, monsieur?” “no, m'sieur," answered the frenchman with a wan smile, “i have not breakfasted. on the contrary!” “what i want,” francis wilson told an ama- teur dramatist, “is a bright, frothy tragedy- something crisp and snappy.” “how do you mean?" asked the would be author, slightly puzzled. “can you give me an idea?” "oh, yes,” said wilson. “here's one. just a little thing in one act, you know. “when the curtain goes up two persons are discovered on a sofa, one a pretty young woman, the other a nice-looking young man. they embrace. neither says a word. then a door opens at the back and a commercial traveler enters. he wears an overcoat and carries an umbrella. you can tell at once by his manner that he is the husband of the young woman. at least that would be the natural inference of every discriminating playgoer. a pompous bishop of oxford was once stopped on a london street by a ragged urchin. “well, my little man, and what can i do for you?” inquired the churchman. “the time o' day, please, your lordship.” with considerable difficulty the portly bishop extracted his timepiece. “it is exactly half past five, my lad." “well," said the boy, setting his feet for a good start, “at 'alf past six you go to 'ell!”—and he was off like a flash and around the corner. the bishop, flushed and furious, his watch dangling from its chain, floundered wildly after him. everybody's magazine can possibly get, and then burning out. do i win my bet?" “vell,” replied abe, "you don't egsactly vin, but the idea is worth de money. take id." but as he rounded the corner he ran plump into the outstretched arms of the venerable bishop of london. “oxford, oxford,” remonstrated that surprised dignitary, "why this unseemly haste?” puffing, blowing, spluttering, the outraged bishop gasped out: “that young ragamuffin- i told him it was half past five--and he-er- told me to go to hell at half past six.” “yes, yes,” said the bishop of london with the suspicion of a twinkle in his kindly old eyes, “but why such haste? you've got almost an hour." a boston lawyer, who brought his wit from his native dublin, while cross-examining the plaintiff in a divorce trial, brought forth the following: “you wish to divorce this woman because she drinks?" “yes, sir." “do you drink yourself?” “that's my business!”-angrily. whereupon the unmoved lawyer asked: “have you any other business?” a certain young society man was much given to telling exaggerated stories and was rapidly gaining a reputation for untruthfulness which worried his friends and particularly his chum, who remonstrated with him and threatened to disown him if he did not mend his ways. “charlie,” said he, "you must stop this big story business of yours or you are going to lose me as a friend. nobody believes a word you say, and you are getting to be a laughing-stock.” charlie admitted that he was aware of the fact but complained that he could not overcome his fault, try as he would. he suggested that had he but somebody beside him when he started to elaborate upon his tale, to tread on his foot, he was sure he could break the habit. a few days later they were invited to a dinner party and his chum agreed to sit next to charlie and step on his toe if he went too far. all went well until the subject of travel was brought up. one of the company told of an immense building that he had seen when on a trip up the nile. this started charlie, who at once began to de- scribe a remarkable building he had seen while on a hunting trip on the northern border of india. "it was one of the most remarkable buildings, i presume, in the world," said he. “its dimen- sions we found to be three miles in length, two miles in height, and”-as his watchful friend trod on his toe-"two feet wide.” uncle toby was aghast at finding a strange darkey with his arm around mandy's waist. "mandy, tell dat niggah to take his ahm 'way from round yo'waist,” he indignantly com- manded. “tell him yo'self,” said mandy, haughtily. "he's a puffect stranger to me.” while an irishman was gazing in the window of a washington bookstore the following sign caught his eye: dickens' works all this week for only $ . . "the divvle he does!” exclaimed pat in dis- gust. “the dirty scab!” no amount of persuasion or punishment could keep johnnie from running away. the excite- ment of being pursued and of being brought back to a tearful family appealed to his sense of the dramatic and offset the slight discomfort that sometimes followed. finally his mother determined upon a new method. she decided, after many misgivings, that the next time johnnie ran away no notice whatever should be taken of it. he should stay away as long as he pleased and return when he saw fit. in a few days the youngster again disappeared. his mother was firm in her resolve and no search was made. great was poor johnnie's disap- pointment. he managed to stay away all day, but when it began to grow dark his courage failed and he started for home. he sneaked ignominiously into the kitchen. nobody spoke to him. apparently his absence had not been noticed. this was too much. as soon as opportunity offered he remarked casually, “well, i see you've got the same old cat.” a jew crossing the brooklyn bridge met a friend who said, “abe, i'll bet you ten dollars that i can tell you exactly what you're thinking about.” "vell," agreed abe, producing a greasy bill, “i'll haf to take dot bet. put up your money." the friend produced two fives. “abe," he said, "you are thinking of going over to brooklyn, buying a small stock of goods, renting a small store, taking out all the fire-insurance that you with “everybody's" publishers w e have been asked so often, “how do but this stream that flows in by way of the v you get the material for your maga- morning mail, even when swelled by the zine, anyway?" that it has occurred to us that tributaries of solicited manuscripts, proves our readers, as a whole, might like to hear the deficient in certain qualities essential to a answer. you know that, with about twenty good popular monthly. it is the articles items to a monthly table of contents, we use that give a magazine its distinctive quality. in a year only contributions. and when and when it comes to getting articles that we tell you that a stream of something like shall be timely and vital, that shall deal , manuscripts not directly solicited by with the big problems of the day, we have us flowed into our office last year, you may to do more than select and solicit. we think that all we needed was a dipper. but have told you how “frenzied finance" it isn't really so easy. for one thing, we have was suggested to one of the publishers by a to be careful where we dip. newspaper clipping, and how our editor-in- these manuscripts are read by editors who chief camped outside mr. lawson's door for know a good story or a good idea whether it three days till he got a hearing. you know, bears the name of john smith or booth too, how we sent mr. russell around the tarkington, and who, above all else, are world to report on “soldiers of the common perpetually hopeful of making “discoveries.” good.” most of our shorter series and when they find something that they consider single articles on important subjects have also good, they pass it on to the rest, each editor originated in the office, or have been carefully voting. if the final decision is negative, the developed here from outside suggestions. for writer gets a courteous and interested letter, our editors are constantly alert to suggestion and an invitation to try again. this is one from any source-newspaper, letter, or con- way to keep the stream flowing. if the versation. we suggest to one another, and manuscript is almost good enough, the editor then follows a process of weighing, discussing, becomes a volunteer prescribing physician, and reweighing. we have a card on which and suggests a way to make it right. our employees outside of the editorial depart- names alone do not count, and a good per ment may make suggestions, to be paid for if cent. of our best contributors have been available. and, on the same terms, we invite “dipped” up when their names had no all our readers to submit ideas for consid- value. more than twenty per cent. of thé eration. stories that we bought from may, , to a subject once agreed upon, we must find may, , and thirty-three per cent. of the a man to handle it. and there's the rub. poems, were by unknown authors. that “the players ” is always written by the same doesn't agree with the picture of editors flip- man, the book reviewing goes to another, and ping the stories of obscure writers back into the editors lend a hand, but for the rest we do the mail-basket, does it? yet, since we want not employ a fixed staff of writers. author, the best material obtainable, we must seek subject, and method have to be fitted to- out, too, the trained writers. to be sure, their gether — and it's a constant puzzle, often volunteer contributions make up no incon taking a long time to solve. for instance: siderable proportion of the , , but to help we decided upon a series on overcapital- matters along, we have one editor whose ization, a subject that we believed was im- chief business it is to ask experienced writers mensely important. we decided how we to submit manuscripts for consideration. we wanted to treat it. but we could not decide have, besides, an agent who works to the on a man. the right man must be un- same end among english authors. but we prejudiced, must understand financial con- seldom order a story, and never without the ditions in the united states both broadly and provision that it may be returned if not up to minutely, and must know how to describe our standard. them so that all could comprehend. it was everybody's magazine thot actually weeks before we found him-in mr. side? have you stood appalled on the brink will payne. of the grand cañon? have you seen yo- really a good deal more complex than semite and yellowstone? have you--but dipping, isn't it? what's the use?—the catalogue would fill an entire magazine. the point is—make your plans to see your own country. not rushing vacations round like a lunatic, trying to take it all in at have you ever stopped to think of the one gulp, but leisurely, giving yourself time remarkable change that has taken place in the to digest what you see, and above all to get last few years in the matter of vacations? acquainted with your countrymen. what's nowadays nearly everybody gets his annual that?—you can't afford it? you can't afford outing. business men have come to realize not to do it. that it is good business for employers and while the railroads are getting hammered employees alike to get away from the grind, for so many things, it is well to remember if only for a little while. that they more than any other agency have perhaps no one needs the annual change developed our country, and that with their so much as the housewife, with her never- inexpensive and comfortable tourists' trains ending round of unvarying duties-seeing the and their extensive advertising, they are same faces, however beloved, day in and day to-day doing more than any other agency to out; the same dishes; the same pictures; the educate america broadly and to refine her. same carpets; the same books; the same but, you say, they are doing it to make neighbors; the same church. it's a wonder money. so they are. so all of us do what she doesn't join a union and go on a strike. we are doing to make money. we need it fortunately, her man has waked up to the in our business. fortunate we, if, while we fact that the burdens of life bear hardest upon are making money, we have the satisfaction her. he is more and more insisting that of knowing that we are also helping along a she get away a few weeks every year for a good work; and the railroads and summer complete rest. it is well. only infrequently resorts certainly are doing that very thing. will you run across a man who hasn't sense shouldn't the man who is tempted away from enough to give and take vacations. his his work long enough to take one of these trips, family is to be pitied. now and then you and who returns with a beautiful memory, a find a man who knows the value of an outing bigger knowledge, and a new zeal-shouldn't and insists that wife and children have theirs, such a man be grateful to the railroad or the but says he just can't afford to go himself. his summer resort that spent money to place the wife should refuse to budge without him. that tempting advertisement where he would see it? type of man can always be brought round. have you any idea of the amount of money america is destined to be, if she is not that is spent in this kind of advertising? already, the greatest nation on the footstool. let's see. we have in this july every- reading and travel will do wonders for body's pages at $ a page; that's over america during the twentieth century. and $ , in one magazine one month. when the travel that will do the most good is not you add what all the magazines carry globe-trotting but travel in our own country. and multiply it by twelve months, you whenever an eastern man goes west, or will begin to get some idea of the enor- a western man east, or a middle states mous sums spent in this sort of advertising. man east or west, north or south, he is our magazine is hardly the best measuring binding the tie that blesses. whatever busi- stick, however. we carry considerably more ness or profession a man is engaged in, a trip than the average. you see, we believe in to any other section of his country enriches this business especially because it permits us while it entertains him. in our advertising pages, as well as in our friend, have you ever seen washington's editorial pages, to help along what we con- tomb or bunker hill, grant's tomb or the ceive to be the common good. on that statue of liberty? have you toured the great account we have worked harder to get this lakes or sailed down the mississippi? did business than the other magazines. would you go to niagara on your wedding-tour? you mind just thumbing through the fifteen have you seen the mardi gras at new or- pages, if only as a favor to us and a com- leans or the rose carnival at pasadena? have pliment to our advertising patrons? inciden- you driven through the orange groves of river- tally, you may solve your vacation problem. august “you should be flogged for theft; the gods do not let those flowers bloom for such as you!” -“white ius.' everybody's magazine vol. xvii august no white tris a romance of the new japa:v бу mary fenollosa (sydney m call) author of truth dexter", the breath of the gods eta illustrations by c.b. a.l.s. among the nobles of the the name “ayamè,” trans- a shogun's court at yed- mitting, in human form, the do, just before the demolition beauty and delicacy of a floral of that exotic dynasty in the sisterhood. at the present year , there was none time there was but one child more proud, conservative, or in the big besso, a daughter self-satisfied than goji suyè- with the family name and the mon nota no kami, daimyo traditional loveliness for sweet of the province of nota. be- inheritance. sides his castle with its fortified town and but goji himself was of sterner stuff. agricultural villages, he owned a city resi- he desired ardently a son, and was not dence surrounded by military barracks always at pains to conceal his disappoint- called yashiki. also, in the outskirts of ment. the interests of the court, rather the capital, at the edge of the broad than of home, engrossed him. his loyalty sumida river, stood his besso or country to the shogun was remarkable even in a villa, and this, with its beautiful gardens race of idealists, and blinded him to com- where the white iris grew, was the favorite ing dangers, which others had begun to spot of earth to goji suyèmon. discern. rumors of national dissatisfac- now about these particular white blos- ; ? tion with the shogunate did not reach his soms a delicate fancy hung. other flower- haughty eminence; plots to restore the loving noblemen might possess varieties boy-emperor mutsuhito to his throne of the rare and valuable a yame, but none had no whisper keen enough to find the of them could be brought to equal the daimyo's averted ear. kind that clustered about the edges of the revolution, when indeed it came, the long, pear-shaped pond of the goji was to goji an unheralded lightning garden. from father to son, through stroke of ruin. he fought blindly, throw- seven generations they had come; and it ing men and wealth into the service of his was current belief that they could not: master. when the struggle was ended and flourish except in this one spot and under the daimyoates were abolished, goji, like the care of a blood descendant of the many others of his class, soon lost through goji clan. so intimate, indeed, was the ignorant speculation the national bonds family relationship to the blossoms that ! given as compensation for his lands. he a daughter of the house had always borne found his retainers scattered, his castle copyright, , by the ridgway company. all rights reserved. everybody's magazine and yashiki taken, and his income practically hatred. it was addressed to “mr. goji gone. dazed and astounded by these suc- suyèmon, ex-daimyo of nota," and went as cessive blows of fate, he emerged, broken follows: in mind and body, from a contest not yet clearly realized. only a single home, his having ascertained from your creditors that the a yamè-besso, where, through their clemency, you are country besso, was left to him. to this he still allowed to live, is soon to be put up at public and the lady goji, with the child ayamè sale, i wish to inform you that i have secured, in and a ragged little train of servitors, now re- my own person, sole right to be your purchaser. i tired. now write to offer you the sum of , yen. this will cover your present mortgages and various finan- meanwhile, to the despised heimin, the la- cial obligations (with which i am minutely ac- borers, merchants, and artisans of japan, quainted), and will leave a few hundred yen between the political turmoil brought great opportu- you and beggary. this liberal offer is made, how- nities. a quick wit, agile adaptation to new ever, strictly under the following conditions: i am to receive the place exactly as it is at this moment conditions, intelligent apprehension of what of writing. no article of furniture, rug, mat, screen, this “foreign" influence was to mean, opened shoji, or fusuma is to be removed, and from the highroads to swift material advance. and garden nothing taken, no stone, tree, slip of plant, just as poor goji was one of those most surely root, bulb, or blade of grass. especially the roots of the white iris must not be touched. for further predestined to ruin by the downfall of the particulars communicate with my lawyer, s. uno, feudal caste, so, from his lower stratum of no. kobayashi-machi, tokio. life, was mori jingoro one of those most in- evitably to rise. the two had known each as if this epistle, with its hideous foreign other in boyhood—that is, mori had known twang and lack of honorifics, were not insult- the young daimyo by sight, and had gazed ing enough, he signed himself, “your cred- enviously upon him at those times when itor-in-chief, j. mori.” it was on foreign the shoemaker to whom he was bound sent paper, in a square envelope crested in gold him to the goji-yashiki with clogs for the with the name of his bank. he folded, common soldiers. the injustice of inequali- sealed, and stamped the missive in slow en- ties of birth had stung the apprentice even joyment, and then sent it to the post-office, then. well knowing that, before the restoration, he on one occasion he had gone, tingling might have been imprisoned for a lesser of- with excitement at the privilege, to the beau- fense. tiful ayamè-besso itself. it was at the time goji, alone in the great cool guest-room of of iris flowering. he had never forgotten his villa, sat with folded arms and lowered the wonder of that fringe of bloom. re- chin, brooding, as had become his habit, upon turning through the garden to the servants' the evil of the days around him. the for- quarters, he had found lying in his pathway eign-looking letter, presented by a servant, a single, long-stemmed flower; plucked, doubt- gave him a premonitory thrill of antipathy, less, by some high-born hand, fondled a mo- even before a glimpse of the vulgar, unknown ment, and then cast aside. the plebeian handwriting brought a deeper disgust. he boy lifted it reverently, gloating over it with tossed it aside, and would have resumed his all the inherent beauty-love of his race. a mournful reverie, but the square thing on the rude awakening had come with a blow from mats troubled him. with an exclamation of a flat sword, and a loud, indignant voice impatience he tore it open. twice he read- commanding, “put down the ayamè, lout! thrice-a slow, dull rage mounting upward to you should be flogged for theft; the gods do his brain. sudden passion seized him. he not let those flowers bloom for such as you!” rent the insulting pages, thrust them into his even now, years after, as mori sat writing a mouth, chewed and spat them forth. he letter to the unfortunate goji, the old scar tried to clap his hands to summon an attend- glowed across his heart, and the memoryant, but his twitching muscles refused obe- of young flashing eyes (now, indeed, dull and dience. he called aloud, “wife! ayamè!” sad enough) roused in him a bitterness that at the sound of the strained, thickened voice sought to soothe itself with insult. mr. j. the two came like light, but, even then, were mori had become a man of business, a money- too late. goji suyèmon no nota had fallen, lender and a banker. he approved of the face down, to the mats, and lay there a pur- foreign method, and aped its externals. this pled, convulsed mass. before midnight of letter he now wrote was the last act of a that day, still speechless, and apparently long revenge, the triumph of an implacable without recognition of the two agonized faces white iris w loc leaning above him, the last male of the race something in the lady's cool, level gaze, in of goji passed from earth. the young girl's slightly uplifted chin, that j. mori had long since fortified himself made him feel as he used to feel, years be- with an attorney, the fore, when cringing at “s. uno" referred to the roadside to let the in his letter. this daimyo's train pass young man was in- by. there was no deed a valuable assist- help for it! bow and ant, having set him- squirm he must-and self to acquire all this he did, the tail methods of sharp of his eye licking the practise in law known while rare screens and to our western courts. lacquered surfaces. the delicate business so, like an assassin, of negotiating with the rather than a con- bereaved goji ladies queror, he delivered now fell to his lot. his last blow. the he soon ascertained chief motive for his that they knew noth- call, he now informed ing of mori's letter them, was pure gen- to the dead master. erosity. since it would he found too, much be impossible for any to his gratification, cash payment to be that though the ladies made until the late were connected more owner's liabilities were or less distantly with known, he wished to half the noble families offer the afflicted of japan, they wished ladies the shelter of to keep their present a certain little cottage straitened and humili- just in the rear of the ating circumstances as a yamè-besso — some- secret as possible. what damp as a resi- all this was pleas- dence, to be sure, ant hearing to the rich since the large iris j. mori. in his new pond emptied just capacity of generous there, but, at least, purchaser of an en- a place of retirement cumbered piece of and seclusion until property, he even ven- more favorable ar- tured the familiarity rangements could be of a personal call. he made. drove to the ayamè- something in the besso in his carriage, oily voice made newly arrived from ayamè look at him france, and bore with with keener scrutiny. him as a gift of con- sorrow was beginning dolence a huge box of to teach her a little of highly colored sweet- this new world into meats. which they were driv- the ladies received en. could it be that him simply, bowing a slow, dull rage mounting upward the parvenu wished to to him as they might have them near that to any plebeian to . he might more con- whom their misfor- veniently gloat upon tune had given approach. strangely enough, the family ruin? when it came to her that in their presence his self-satisfaction began he was offering them a little darkened hut to diminish. in spite of effort, there was under the north bank of the garden, where to his brain. everybody's magazine formerly only stable boys had been allowed “we cannot leave too soon, now that you to live, her suspicions of his personal enmity say the place is yours!” were confirmed. she met his eyes with scorn, “to-day!” faltered the lady goji. the and would have refused at once the hypo- sudden pallor of her face was balm to j. critical boon, but that the lady goji, with a mori. gesture, restrained her. “oh, such very great haste is not neces- “mother, do you honorably understand sary! to-morrow—or even the day after" what place it is that the person offers us?” he waved a fat and condescending hand. she asked in a low voice. the lady goji shivered. “ayamè is the elder lady bowed. her whisper did right. we go to-day!” not reach mori's ear; but ayamè heard- “even so, dear child, rather would i be a few hours later, in the wretched hut at little longer near the home your father loved." the northern end of their former estate, the again the girl flashed scorn upon her vis- two high-born ladies, just arrived, gazed itor. “for the present we accept your most about them with eves that, at first, seemed noble offer, mr. j. mori,” said she, with incapable of realizing the squalor. the one curling lip. old servant, su, whom they had allowed to mori bowed far over. his own mouth share their poverty and exile, burst into tears twitched. the scar was red on his heart. and then, aghast at her own indelicacy, re- “how like she is to her father when he struck me on that day so many years ago," the successful man was thinking. mumbling some commonplace re- mark, he gained his feet. immedi- ately the ladies rose, and one of them clapped for a servant who should escort him to the door. he knew well enough that, with a visitor of their own class, they would have followed to the threshold of the en- trance, bowing, smiling, and calling out “sayonara!!! until the carriage or jinrikisha rolled from sight. he hated himself that such an omission could sting him, and, in the hurt of it, asked rudely, “when can you get out?” “at once! to-day!" flashed ayamè. tired in haste to a blackened closet that eventually turned out to be the kitchen. "mother, mother!” cried the girl aloud; then, despairing of giving voice to so huge a woe, she fell into sobbing silence, and hid her face against her mother's sleeve. not a tremor came to the slender, upright figure of the elder woman. when she spoke, her words had the same slow, measured sweetness, the same overtones of nobility and high breeding that her speech had always held. “look up, my flower. these are not things to suffer for. what surrounds us, what we wear and what eat, so that it serve to nourish life, has no reality. even in such a place as this i am content to live white iris and be not too far away from memory.” "i could endure it-and old su san—" the girl broke out again passionately. “but for you!” lady goji patted the shining head. “yet it would appear that i am less rebellious than either my daughter or our good su.” “yes—i am not worthy of you -i will be!" said the girl, clench- ing her hands, and making a long, defiant survey of the wretched house. “when the place is clean, with flowers and a poem in the tokonoma- but, mother, that open grave of a garden!” she flung a hand outward, and an hysterical relinquishments," assented the other. “the young lawyer as- sured me that the iris-blooms were the chief attraction to that person. and, my child, though an unhappy fact for us, the motive is not incomprehensible. you have often heard how, in the old days, many noble friends desired in vain a growth of those same flowers. why not, then, this churl, who, with his great wealth, hopes to imitate a class he can never enter?” “well, they are his now, and i pray heartily that they may all die for him as they did for that proud shogun a hundred years laugh met the sob in her throat. ... “is ago when he forced my great grandfather to that to be our garden?” send him half the roots!” it was a depressing view indeed; a shape- “my daughter!” admonished the lady less pocket of soggy earth shelving upward to goji in a voice meant to be severe; but there an oozing bank; with a few tumbled stones was an answering flash in her dark eyes. she and spires of rank weeds for all its planting. hesitated a moment, and then said slowly: “in “we will summon our old ka go-bearer, truth the flowers may never bloom for their shika, to delve for us," said the mother new master unless his gardeners know the se- soothingly. “we will fashion for ourselves cret of their care. most kinds of iris demand a fairy pond, set the stones aright, and have a flood of water to open their buds; these him bring us tufts of fern and wild grasses alone reach perfection through a decrease of from the hills beyond the city. even a poor moisture. on the day before full opening, place like this may grow fair, if one believe we always drained the water quite away in it and love it." from the roots, and strewed a thick snow of “yet it must always be without a yamè white pebbles. i did not think to mention blooms, without the flower for which i am this to the advocate uno, nor to his master. named," said the girl sadly. “mu-a ! but it perhaps it is still my duty ”. was the nudge of a demon that made the “oh, no! dearest okusama, it is not your parvenu mori so strictly claim all roots and duty. i assure you it is not in the least your seedlings of our family flower!” duty!” cried out' the girl. “oh, it is some- "it was truly the keenest pang of all thing saved to us. the blessed flowers may everybody's magazine not open; and think of his frog-like face when they refuse. it will be one thing that his usurer wealth cannot buy. oh, o-kusan, o-kusan, they are my sisters; they belong to me. you must not give away our secret!” in the reaction from her late despair, this poor triumph mounted like wine through the girl's young veins. "promise, promise!” she insisted, seizing her mother's hands and shaking them impetuously. “it is all you can do now for ayamè of the gojis. say you will not betray us!” and the mother, reluctant to give sanction to a thing unworthy, yet half glad that the strong young soul before her forced the pledge, nodded a shamed assent. then avamè, laughing aloud, leaped to the very center of the mud plot of a garden, dancing the iris dance, and giving the beautiful words of the classic song: the iris flower is set with swords let him who fears, stand far- i on the mother had caught one glimpse of a young girl on a tiny veran. da. not to be outdone by any such swiftness of decision as had been shown by the goji ladies, j. mori, assisted by the invaluable s. uno, at once had hired and turned into the precincts of the a yamè-besso a small army of house-cleaners, carpenters, and gardeners. his usual explanation of the indelicate haste was that he had set his heart on having the property in perfect order before displaying it to his heir, the boy hiro, now at school. as yet no blade of iris leaf had pricked the leaden borders of the pond. j. mori was anxious to be there at the beginning of growth, to gloat, at his leisure, over each successive stage of acquirement. and, apparently, just because he had willed it, upon that very day on which he and his retinue took possession, the buried iris-roots sent up their first green rapier point of chal- lenge to the sun. overhead, ancient cherry-trees were out to welcome his coming. they sent down a benedic- tion of rosy petals impartially alike upon the new master, and upon the familiar flagstones of the walk. the hillocks at the farther side of the pond, banked high with fantastic stones, were dotted thickly with dwarfed maple-trees that were pruned into round shapes of cloud, or into pointed tongues of flame. they were now in the first wonder of crimson foliage. later they would pass slowly into green, only to burn again, through golden autumn days, with an intenser fire. across one end of the pond a bamboo trellis stretched far, leading thick ropes of wistaria vines already tufted with silvery-green leaves, and touched with the hazy amethyst of buds. the busy and important days went by. mrs. mori, a timid, deprecating woman of much better birth than her husband, but terribly afraid of him, gained new white iris suure approval from her lord by her excellent management. in truth her one thought was her tall boy, hiro, now soon to return. his home-coming was the next occurrence. this, too, eventuated just as it should. everything was in readiness, the day proved fair, and hiro arrived, glowing with health and excitement, bringing prizes and special commendation with him. he was received in state, in the large corner guest-room where the broken-hearted goji had so often brooded alone. a fringe of respectful, wondering servants sat listening against the walls. this, after all, was the center of j. mori's pride, of his hope, and of a future race—this tall, graceful boy who was, happily, so much more like his mother's family than his father. about four in the afternoon an important business summons drew the master from the house. as he went, the servants following in a train to bow a ceremonious sa yonara from the door-step, mrs. mori sent a glance toward her boy, and made a slight outward gesture. he responded with a nod and a smile. before the jinrikisha wheels had ceased to fret the pebbles of the entrance court, the two were out under the blue sky together. already the sun was close to the great cone of fujiyama, on the western rim of the world. shadows lay blue and thin upon the pear-shaped lakelet as they stood beside its brim. a little, humped, stone bridge spanning it at its narrowest point and reflected in the water without blemish, made to the eye a great, continuous, granite “o.” all about the pond grew a thicket of iris swords, with buds gleaming white among the stems. “yes," answered the mother to a question, “these are the augustly famous ayamè of the goji clan. it is said that they will flourish only in this place.” hiro looked thoughtfully around the pond. “my schoolmate, the young marquis hachida, who is a relative of the family, says they will grow nowhere unless tended by one of the goji blood.” “yet you see for yourself how they are growing. the buds are as flakes of snow for thickness.” “the buds are not opened yet,” said hiro. "i know your thought; but your august father desires them to open and so they will open," said the mother, with a queer little laugh. “what he wishes, comes to be. and did you know, he is to give a great festival of flowers within the next two weeks, in your honor and in honor of the iris blossoms. you are to compose the invitations in poetry!” “ara !” cried the young man in consternation. “my father commanded me to study practical things—now he wishes me to be a poet!” “and you will write as he wishes,” stated the mother with conviction. the two moved slowly along the bank toward the southern extremity of the pond, where, like the stem to a pear, a tiny drainage ditch carried off the excess of water. the garden here ended abruptly in a thick hedge of growing bamboo, bound with long, horizontal strips of the same wood. in the silence they could hear the feeble trickle of water among the hedge roots. “does it empty directly into the street, or pass through another garden?” asked hiro. "i do not know. being contented with what is here, i have never thought of looking beyond the hedge." “that is the chief use of hedges, the looking through, for those bold enough to dare it,” laughed the boy in a masterful way that reminded her, for the first time, of his father. already he was plunging ruthlessly through iris stalks, and with strong hands he now parted the bamboo stems. the mother watched him eagerly. his back was turned, and he stood so long, with down-bent head, that she called out to him. he showed . everybody's magazine poud. dazed eyes an instant, and resumed his atti- a few inches higher, so that all plants now tude. a little frightened, she called again, stood knee-deep in liquid light. and, gaining no response, hurried to his side. j. mori had thrown around his bulky form suddenly he allowed the hedge to close, and, one of those thin summer robes called yu- crimson of face, turned back into the garden. kata. he parted his shoji stealthily, wishing the mother had caught one glimpse of a to enjoy, alone, this initial triumph. the young girl on a tiny veranda, and, for some morning air struck chill against his throat reason, shared her son's embarrassment. so that with one hand he gathered the folds not until they reached the humped stone of the robe closer, while with the other he bridge did either speak, and then the mother lifted his skirts high from the early dews. as said, as if to herself: “they must be people he emerged, a huge, blowsy red sun was just of very great nobility, recently impoverished.” clearing the maple hill. this lord of a new after another long interval she continued: day j. mori saluted affably, as equal to “i wonder who they can be. i have never equal. . . . for a moment his eye regarded seen such beauty!” still hiro san said noth- approvingly the rosy light among the maple- ing, but his companion, venturing a look into trees where thin, spreading cobwebs twinkled the irradiated face, knew that he would write with gems. with a deepening smile his full his father's poetical invitations. gaze lowered and began to sweep the edges next day mrs. mori questioned one serv- of the pond. ant, then another, concerning the occupants the smile vanished. he dropped his hand of the little cottage under the north bank. from his throat, and gave an incredulous apparently no one had heard of such a place. start, straining his vision through the shim- even after giving orders that they should in- mering morning mist. in all the ring of quire, mrs. mori learned only the bare facts green leaves not a white iris banner waved. that two women lived there in poverty with hurrying nearer, he took a seat on one of the a single servant, and that they were, unfortu round stones at the edge of the pond. all nately, social outcasts of a sort that permitted about him was lush, vigorous foliage, with no familiarity from members of the mori fluffy buds that should be now expanding, family. but were not. impatiently he broke one, preparations for the great ayamè-viewing- tearing at the tissue and the strips of gold. party now claimed the interest and the ener- he spread out an unwilling petal on his palm. gies of the establishment. hiro's verses of nothing was wrong with the formation of the invitation, each different from all others, yet flower; why, then, in the name of em-ma, each with some delicate allusion to the flower lord of hell, did the thing refuse to open! involved, surprised even the writer with their with an angry exclamation he tore a plant beauty. the youth now spent much of his from the soil. it came up with a shiver and time at the far end of the garden; and was a little sob. the knotted rhizome had seldom without his lacquered writing-box, snapped, showing a yellow scar. he slit the containing strips of stiff paper for the proper stem, full length. no blight or insect ap- making of verse, pliant pen-brushes, and a peared in the clean, juicy cells. why, then, cake of hard ink easily prepared by rubbing should the flowers shrink and cringe, as if with a few drops of lake not daring to display their water on a flat stone. beauty? before sunrise of the im- for once in his life the portant day, mr. j. mori successful man was baffled. arose in the dawn to super- even anger was denied him, intend personally the proper for there was no human vic- unfolding of his iris-flowers. tim on whom it could fall. of course they would open. if he destroyed the flowers had not this special day it was his own loss. and been set aside for them? yet the anger was mount- and, besides, had not the ing! he struck his knee, most famous gardeners of gave a low, fierce cry, and tokio assured him that would have risen but that they would open? to make the sound of wooden clogs it all the more certain, on gravel told of an ap- they had brimmed the pond proaching presence. it was white iris hiro, his young and tying his obi face bright with as he came. the new day. mori “uno," said his would not meet his master in his most eyes, and the boy, arrogant and gazing with in- domineering tone, terest on the phe- “go at once to the nomenon before widow goji and him, remarked in- her daughter in nocently, “they that hovel under will not open!" the north bank. “no, they will accuse them of not. may the in- poisoning the sect gaki feed on water of my pond them in hell!” so that my flowers “i had been told will not open." that they would uno gasped, and not bloom except for a moment was for one of the goji silent. race. it seems to the eyes of hiro be true," said hiro. and his mother “medieval stuff met for a flashing and superstition!” instant, and fell roared the other, apart. “the wid- glad of this oppor- ow goji and her tunity for vehe- ayamÈ. daughter - the mence. “is that hovel under the what they teach you at college in return for north bank.” everything was clear to them. the money i give? old women's chatter, mori, intent on his one grievance, noticed servants' gossip! this is the age of enlighten- nothing. ment, not of witchcraft! yet, what explana- “i am to accuse those ladies of—water tion can there be? the buds were perfect at poisoning. why, sir—" stuttered the embar- the twilight hour of yesterday. witchcraft, rassed uno. black magic_” his anger went as sud- “yes,” bellowed his master. “do as i denly as it had come. he huddled himself say. it is surely through them that the together on the round stone, muttering, star- flowers will not open." ing now with a new, almost fearful wonder “but, sir—" began the advocate again. at the multitude of helpless buds. “if you can't, i can!” roared mori, and “father!” cried the boy, “why do you began pitching about the walk. “what! look so strange? i spoke merely in thought- am i to lose face before the entire commu- less jest." nity? half tokio is to be here to-day, i say. "no," said mori in his thick, dull voice. the flowers shall open! - " “you may have found the truth. it is black "father," said hiro's quiet voice, “i will magic, or water poisoning, a vengeance from accompany mr. uno, and see what can be those haughty beggars under the north bank; done.” but i'll show them; i'll show them. we'll j. mori hesitated; his bloodshot eyes wa- call it water poisoning!” springing to his. vered upon the face of his son, his only son. feet he almost ran in the direction of his house, the pauper, ayamè, was fair. crying, “uno, uno!” as he went. uno actually gasped with eager commen- hiro, believing his father to be mad, fol- dation. “ah! if the young master will ac- lowed closely. company me, giving me the sanction of his mrs. mori's frightened face showed at a illustrious presence- " parting of the shoji. “what has gone wrong, “go, then,” said mori to his son. "first master?" threaten, then bribe. they are beggars; per- “rout uno for me. i don't pay him to haps they have not even food. it is not yet sleep like a sot all day.” too late to have the flowers open, and they uno appeared, exuding rills of apology, must-i say—they shall unfold, each one of everybody's magazine them. half tokio is to come—” mutter- turn bearing a tray with tea service, and fresh ing curses, the angry man strode into the tea, and a few cheap cakes. “my mistress, house, into the wide guest-chamber, and the lady goji, will receive you instantly," slammed the shoji behind him with a force she murmured, and withdrew. that made the very gargoyles of the roof-ends the tiny space about them was immacu- shiver. late. the matting, if not new, had been the two young men went out in silence, scrubbed and sunned until it was pale-green side by side, from under the portals of the satin. new paper was spread on all the big, red gate, turning at a sharp angle to the shoji. in the pygmy tokonoma or recess, in- left, and proceeding along the tiled and plas- dispensable to the guest-room of any home, tered wall that bounded the front of the however poor, hung a scroll on which was estate. not until they had turned again, written, in beautiful calligraphy, a chinese also to the left, and had entered a narrow classic poem. under this, in a vase of plain street enclosed in hedges, did hiro speak. ware, beautiful in shape, stood a cluster of “how is it that these ladies, having re- newly gathered iris flowers. cently sold a splendid home, should be in “the goji iris,” said uno's low voice with possible need of-food?” the thought hurt a sneer. “and it was set down in strictest him like a brier. terms, and sworn to, that no bulb, slip, root, “your excellency, my dear young master, or seed of them should be taken from the you could not understand— " besso." “how do you know what i can understand “if so, that word has been kept. there and what not?” interrupted hiro with a look will be found other explanation—" hiro was that frightened the sycophant. beginning angrily, when a shadow across the “there were mortgages, preliminaries—er, threshold announced the lady goji. what our foreign friends would call the red both men bowed very low. before seating tape ” herself, the lady, fixing her eyes on hiro's pros- “but common decency, after the death of trate form, said slowly: “young sir, your lord goji, would demand an instant payment words are true. there is another explana- in cash. why, my friend, young marquis hachida has been searching everywhere for his kins- women. i wrote my father of it and you an- swered, saying that they had taken the money and gone to some distant province. has tion. as for you, mr. s. uno!” she con- there been no payment of cash at all?” tinued, with a change of voice and pose, “it is “i believe not. you see, young sir, the your right to know. we did agree, indeed, preliminaries—ah, here is the gate!” uno under the hard terms of your master's sale, wiped the drops of perspiration from his to take no plant or root of this, our own clan brow, thanking the fates that this cross- flower. that was our promise, and it has questioning must cease. been kept; but look ” here, with a dra- “this the gate of the goji's widow!” matic gesture she pulled to one side the pa- thought hiro, burning with shame and in- per shoji that had shut them from the gar- dignation as he viewed the single panel of den. “the flowers, more true than human rotting and worm-eaten wood. a garden friends, have followed us!” she pointed, coolie in the employ of his father would and then letting her hand fall heavily, stood, scarcely have been allowed to live in such a with uplifted chin and quivering lids, re- spot. garding the wonder of her guests. uno knocked briskly, supplementing the where the drainage from the great pond summons by the usual call, “o tanomi mosh- had formerly seeped and trickled through imasho!” bamboo roots embedded in gray mud, shely- old su san opened, and, although much ing stones were now set, and tufts of fern, surprised by the coming of visitors so early and beautiful wild grasses, making a harmony in the day, led them at once to the tiny re- of filmy green, with the glint of slow water ception-room. she disappeared, only to re- through cool stems. the overflow, carried white iris off by underground bamboo tubes, left dry so, his hostess had called aloud, “ayamè! and clean the small flat garden space, and come to me!” this was covered by a flooring of white peb- a young girl entered the room. it was as bles gathered by night from the river bed if one of the flowers had taken human shape. beyond. but the chief wonder and beauty her eyes met the look of hiro, and she of the space centered in a blossoming cluster flushed, drooping her face. of white iris, springing outward from an al- “gather the iris-flowers, child, and present most perpendicular bank. like a little band them to our guests." of cirrus clouds they rose, the three central “o mother, the flowers? our only flow- petals of each flower curved into a diapha- ers. shall i gather all?” nous balloon–a tissue bubble blown full of “all!” repeated the other almost fiercely. phosphorescent moonlight. the three lower “each blossom, each bud; and if it were pos- petals curved outward and then down. these sible, each green leaf. burrow the roots of them from out the dark bank where they creep, and these thoughts of bitterness from out my heart. alas, gentlemen, i forget myself. i am quite an old woman, as you . see. permit me to retire.” she swept past them and would have vanished, but that hiro, literally throwing himself at her feet, de- tained her with the passion of his pleading. “madam, listen. it is but right that you should listen, for a moment, to what i have to say. i am the son of j. mori, and as such i owe him duty. but the name he gives me must be clean. madam, oh, believe that i did not know you were here. each hour, each moment that you and your daughter have spent in such a place is a degradation to the son of j. mori. this very day the great wrong done you shall be righted. your kinsman, the young marquis hachida, is my friend. he has been seeking you. i wrote to my father asking where the ladies of the goji house had gone, and received an an- swer from this rascal, saying you were in retirement in a distant province.” “you—you are kind,” said the lady slowly. "the flowers, more true than human friends, “and are you indeed j. mori's son?” he felt the implied sting, and flushed under it; were tipped and veined with a pale-green but his eyes met hers squarely. ichor, and along the center of each petal was “each name and family, however great, a luminous yellow mark, like the stroke of a had some time a beginning." finger first dipped into the bowl of the sun. “true,” she said, with her rare, beautiful uno found voice. “they are beyond all smile. “and i like you the better for the saying of their beauty, but-but-my noble saying." patron's buds will not open-no, not a single ayamè had gone from the room and now one!” reentered at a mournful pace, bearing the the lady goji seemed not to hear. flower-shears and a flat wicker basket. hiro “since you gentlemen have now beheld started and caught his lip between his teeth; unmistakably how they are growing, i shall then again he boldly met the lady goji's summon my daughter to gather them, that eyes. “i cannot take the iris-flowers. will you they may be sent as a fête gift to our neighbor, humiliate me by having the lady ayamè mr. j. mori.” ruthlessly destroy their beauty?” hiro winced at the scorn of her voice. he the two gazed silently each into the eyes himself was pale, and had begun to tremble. of the other. it was a battle of old and new; he strove to speak; but before he could do a conflict between patrician and plebeian have followed us." everybody's magazine claims. uno, still seated, stared up, breath- less. even to his emmet-like intelligence this soundless struggle above him had a mean- ing. and ayamè, too, gazed, gazed with all her untutored, childish heart at the face she had seen so often smiling down upon her from a parting of the bamboo hedge. at first she had resented the intrusion, but soon had be- gun to watch for it. her infrequent, fleeting, upraised look had often seemed to say: "i have no weapons against your boldness. i wish you would go away so that etiquette and conscience would cease to trouble me; but, oh, it is good to see another face that is young, that is not already stamped with suffering!” suddenly the lady's dark eyes turned upon her daughter. again she looked at hiro. there had been no time for concealment. both souls lay bare before her. shame, sweetness, prejudice, the phantom barriers of caste, the stirrings of emotions far below, “never mind what you told my noble father. fall back a few paces. i want to forget you till we reach the house!” uno fell back; and hiro, forgetting him instantly, paced once more the bridge of heaven. “how beautiful she is! how more than beautiful when one is near her," he mused. “the mother, too, is fair and of noble judgment. she would not hold back her daughter from happiness solely because of lack of noble birth. japan is topsy-turvy in the matter of nobility and titles. young marquis hachida is my friend. i can con- tinue visiting his home. ara! perhaps next year the iris-buds by the garden pond will open!”. whether through overbrimming of th or whether, indeed, as old su was afterward fond of telling, the indignant family spirit of the goji clan, not yet weaned from its an- cient haunts, had warned the flowers, it is certain that not one single bud opened for far deeper than, all social reservations, trem- bled together in that moment. to steady herself the lady goji leaned forward and caught ayamè's arm. “she need not pluck the flowers," came the strained whisper. “and now good-by!” j. mori's fête. the guests came in numbers, partaking of the costly foreign food and champagne, but every curious or amused glance of the eye toward his pond shot through j. mori like an arrow tipped with acid. with a grinning, greenish mask of a face fastened over his furious disap- pointment, j. mori moved among his noble friends, received their congratulations on the acquisition of so beautiful a home, and, as his one compensation, presented to them his son and heir, the tall youth, hiro. hiro's pleasant smile was painted on no mask. modest, tactful, self-assured, he returned the greetings, winning for himself commendation everywhere, and friendship in more than one important quarter. young marquis hachida kept close to him. hiro could well afford to smile, for all the day his heart was singing, “i think the blossoms will open wide next year!' outside in the narrow street once more, hiro seemed walking on the bridge of heaven. when uno's voice tugged at his senses he felt as one who touches a leper- beggar on a bridge. “we did not even make the accusation we were commanded by your father.” “leave that to me!” cried hiro. “and, you cringing dog,” he added, "if you wish any tolerance from me at all, use your mean wits to cancel this wrong you have helped to make." "i will, young sir. i have always told your noble father o isral loskuw the sunken admiral by herman scheffauer author of "of both worlds," etc. illustrations by denman fink ostello? costello?” both. costello was a small man; his hair was “aye, costello," said white and long, his eyes were black and bright; the old man, the barber they were like the eyes of a young man. but of tobermory. his face was aged, true, full of wry wrinkles, his “but that is an irish step was slow, his back a little bent; he carried and not a scotch name." seventy-two years upon it. his voice was “aye, irish i am,” re- strained, its volume spent and broken, and his plied the barber, “but the hand trembled so that the covert blood came name is not irish. it has when he shaved me. for full fifty-two years been trimmed irish, aye, had he been barber in tobermory. tober- but it is spanish of old. mory was the name given to threescore flint by my forefathers i am houses in angular disarray perched in a spanish-a castillo.” hollow of the stony cove that fronted the “costello? castillo?” i entrance to the sound of mull. there was a echoed; “how comes it a weary rain without and a storm that troubled spanish name is now an the sea. the roads were forlorn with mud, irish one?” and so my onward quest in search of sketches thus i began speech suffered interruption in tobermory here. with old costello, the village from the next room, low-ceiled and dark, barber in obscure tober- came spicy smells of cookery. the barber's mory on the isle of mull off the west coast of wife, a dame becapped and stout, of some scotland. barber and village were ancient sixty-eight years, was there preparing supper. everybody's magazine in an angle of wall and ceiling hung an osier valiant dead embalmed in history. not cage in which a lively starling hopped to and rendered irish by birth nor made scotch by fro. now and again the bird cried with a environment, costello or castillo stood there, wild crescendo on the second line that ended spaniard of spain as though he had emerged almost in a shriek and subsided suddenly in from some canvas by velasquez or murillo. the third: the genius of the man as it suddenly shone into the sea, out of the sea, forth was all iberian, and hibernian not at all. all that is mine, all that is mine, all that is mine, a haunting like the obsession of the ancient comes back to me. mariner was upon him. an impulse from within bade the tale be told, the message “the goodwife is scotch,” said costello, be delivered. so, phrase by phrase, the old “from tobermory here. i married her when descendant of the armada's men heaped con- i was twenty-six. i came hither when i was fidence upon me. i had earned it by my but a score years old, a green lad.” interest in him and by my rapid pencil sketch “but how came it that castillo, spanish, of his picturesque head as he stood and shaved became costello, irish?” i asked, my mind the villagers. the last yokel, trimmed and busy with that mystery. tonsured, was gone. still the storm held wild the barber was a man well read. some and grim. so, as he bade me, i resolved to rows of books lined a corner of his shop and stay the night with the barber of tobermory. the books were of great and good names. his when the sound, delicious supper was done, speech, though partly burr and partly brogue, we three såt about the snapping fire whose was in fair and seemly english with a trace of light overwhelmed that of the brass hanging- the olden forms. lamp. the starling muttered drowsily in its “in your far land of america you have cage. often heard of armada the invincible?” “the great ship of an admiral, the almi- “yes, “the winds blew out of heaven and ranta san martin, was storm-driven out of the it was scattered!'”. wreck of the fleet. she came flying north, “the winds scattered it and drake and blown blindly about the irish sea. she was howard shattered it. the english are fond a mighty galleon, built high, a great sea-castle to say it was by heaven's right arm. some with upper works musket-proof, and she had of the ships sank, some burned, some went been baptized by the archbishop of cordova. broken on the flemish coast, some were she struck and went down, went down at to- driven on the shore rocks of ireland and scot- bermory not a mile and a half from here. some land. of a hundred and thirty vessels, but of her sister ships went to pieces along the fifty-three, galleons and galleasses, crept back north irish coast. but the almiranta san to spain and to philip, all heart-broken. martin was the biggest of them all. she flew from the ships of battle stranded in ire- the flag of diego florez, one of sidonia's land many sailors were saved. some were admirals. she was the treasure-ship of the slaughtered by the ferocious peasants; some fleet. her hold was fast with ingots and escaped, remained in the land, and married doubloons and ducats of spain. and she it peasant women. many called themselves was that went down at tobermory in the castillo as coming from castile. from night. no one knew it; only three men castillo came costello and there are many escaped and one of them came to ireland to costellos now. so were my forefathers cas- find his mates, those saved from the broken tillos and so am i a costello." ships. of these one was my ancestor. so truly this was all simple, yet strange and the secret of the lost admiral has rested with wonderful. the voice of the past fell from us for more than three hundred years. but the old man's lips. the eyes in the wrinkled - none of my people ever left ireland. i was face shone brilliantly with something that was first to leave and came swift to tobermory magical, eyes like the night that had gazed when i was young. i came to find the wreck from under freebooter's brows centuries ago. of the almiranta in the shallows off tober- a bardic and prophetic strain lay in the voice mory—and perhaps the treasure—mine and of the hoary-headed barber; he seemed a link my people's—in the belly of the ship. gold between two peoples and two epochs far never rots, spanish oak never rots-and the asunder. he was like a high priest grown almiranta was built of the stoutest. my old in the strict service of time, an oracle search was secret, for were it known the vocal before the altar of great deeds and the treasure was found, then the crown would the sunken admiral claim it as trore of the king, even from the sea." into the sea, out of the sea, all that is mine, all that is mine, all that is mine, comes back to me, screamed the starling, suddenly alert. "yon bird always cries when he hears speech end with the word sea,'” said costello. “so, day by day, year by year, mile by mile, as the tides were low, i plumbed the shoals and shallows along the coast. every foot i fathomed, i studied the course of the currents, i scanned the bottoms with a water-telescope. so for twenty-five years i worked and found came upon the scabbards of swords, barrel. harquebuses and copper nails in their rets i bought of these —see, here they are." the canister was incrusted with a thick coat of verdigris; the cipher of the spanish king stood embossed upon it. the scabbards and harquebus-barrels were bars of solid rust with here and there a glint of bright metal. the nails were misshapen, writhen, and greeil, i seemed to touch the hands that had touched them once. "all this," said the barber, “came from the almiranta, but where was she?" "a wrecking company with divers and dredgers might have found her,” i suggested, derink "so the secret of til lost admiral has rested with i's for more than three 'xdred ylars." no sign of ship. money and hope were quite gone. then at last-you see many things were cast up on the shore. one day a light- house man found a copper canister with the cipher of philip, then some of the fishermen “aye, and gained all the gold and the glory, too-after sharing with the crown. nay, if the costellos could not find and keep the treasure, then should it stay in the cea and the sea should keep it till doomsday.” everybody's magazine the wind clamored about the house and sea-treasure of the flagship san martin of the charged the casements, and the rain beat in invincible armada, was silent then. the sea muffled volleys against the panes bright with made answer for him. its hoarse, thunder- the hearth-light. dully out of the distance ous trumpets sounding in the rock-caves came a rumbling, a hollow and intermittent along tobermory's shores proclaimed its reverberation. watch and dominion over the ship in its "hearken the sea,” said costello, his white depths and the gold in the ship. no more hair ruddy and his young eyes sparkling in the the old costello spoke that night of ship or fire-shine. treasure. his confidence in me went so far, instantly the wakeful bird began, as if but seemed to go no farther. he longed to bewitched: hear of america. into the sea, out of the sea, “aye,” said he, “in that land they say gold all that is mine, all that is mine, all that is mine, is almost found in the streets, and the hills comes back to me. and fields are full of it. but here there is none of it-only the sea has it-only the sea." “those are the waves of the sound. they once again the bird repeated its eter- are beating upon the shore and eating it away. nal rhyme, but thickly and mechanically as they are eating away the land here and piling though in sleep. then the goodwife with her it up there. it takes and gives-does the lace cap and head of silver read from a pon- water. it will give us back the gold of our derous bible. her quavering, monotonous people, the gold that was theirs. the big voice was uplifted in the ancient room, and admiral is still there and holds her treasure the cry of the sea was like a far-off echo to that in her hulk and the deeps will give it up." voice. the sonorous scripture phrases added impressively spoke the barber of tober solemnity to the hour. then gravely we said mory; the voice of all his swarthy ancestors good night and the barber of tobermory led rang in his own. the starling stirred in its me to the tiny bedchamber wherein i was to cage, fretful because of the unusual sound of sleep. evening talk and the noisy tempest. again in the bright and sunny morning the gray- the present parted like the halved curtain of a head was full of sprightliness like the chatter- theatre and the past broke brilliantly on the ing starling itself. imagination. visions came crowding up the “oh, a fair day,” he said, "and the sea is years: the storm-harried magnificent ships, glad of it and i'm glad of the sea.” the proud enormous sea-castles with pen the bird pealed forth with an early vigor: nants and glorious oriflammes and emblazoned sails going down in despair on unknown into the sea, out of the sea, all that is mine, all that is mine, all that is mine, coasts, bearing with them in their descent the comes back to me. hope, the glory, and the wealth of imperious castile. a faith and hope indestructible and very fatherly in manner the old man grew. enduring as the warm, yellow gold and the he seemed to overflow with an irrepressible salt sea lay in the words of costello, barber desire to communicate something to me. i of tobermory and heir of the admiral. knew it fretted him from within and called for “on the east coast of england," he re- utterance. he looked out toward the sea sumed, “so i have read, the german ocean where it shone like silver mail between the is biting away miles of land. at lereness, houses, and many times he glanced at the two miles from the shore, all crumbling down, clock. at length when the few morning far out in the tide you can see a rock and on customers had gone he said: that rock a post, a hitching-post that once “come. ere ever you go, i'll show you a stood before an inn. they are building wonderful thing the most wonderful thing granite bulwarks along the shores, but the you ever saw. soon you'll be off to the waves grow never weary and men do. in states. i pledge you to secrecy--give me some places the sea tears down land, in some your hand upon it. no man knows, nobody it builds up land from the bottom. ever here saving the goodwife and me.” in tobermory with its swirling tides it tears costello took up a long conical trumpet- down and it builds up." shaped thing of black tin and clapped a frieze “but the almiranta," i said, “and the tam-o’-shanter upon his snow-white poll. treasure—what of them?" down the crooked village street to the tiny costello, barber of tobermory, heir to the pier where the fishermen tied their craft, denmalerie “some of the fishermen came upon the scabbards of swords in their nets." where the lazy seas lapped against granite “yon falls more of scotland into the sea," centuries old, green as jade in its coats of sea- said costello; “day by day the sea is eating moss and crimpled weed, we went side by away the land. lookee! the face of the cliff is side. costello slipped into a slight boat and a new one-new since last week when i saw took up the oars. of these i relieved him it. the storm of yesternight tore down tons since i was the younger. of it. four ells shorter than a month ago is strongly i pulled and we ran over the un- that bluff now. but it is a good work. what broken sea that heaved with its low sluggish old britain loses i gain. here the sea is swells. the sun smote the waves with un- tearing it down and yonder it is piling it up. usual power. was this the same sea that that is where we are going.” had played so mighty and solemn an organ he pointed toward two black bull-headed threnody upon the stops and vents of the rocks that thrust their blunt domes above the shore-caves the night before? then it was a sinuous sea not far offshore. he steered the black sullen monster wrestling with gigantic boat directly between the two stone caps that winds amidst the bellowing thunder and the rose for thirty feet above the water. together flare of heavenly swords; this morning it was we threw out a heavy block of granite which, a wanton, luxurious creature outstretched to fastened to a rope, served for an anchor. the amorous rapture of the sun. the sea- “the sun is right, the sun is just right,” gulls swung and shot about us, the wind was said the old man mysteriously, upturning his but a breath. a mile we rowed and came to a wrinkled face and sloe-black eyes to the day- great curve in the bluff of the coast. one of star. the horns of the cove was of a slaty rock now he grasped the tin water-telescope, and mixture of shale and the undulating plunged it into the sea, and bent over the swells licked up against its base. as we rocking bow. the young eyes in the old face rowed by, not a dozen feet away, a rust- were actively alive. i sat in a fisher's dory ling mass of disintegrating earth and peb- off the scottish coast with a freebooter of old bles fell from its crest and splashed into spain. the sea, dashing us with spray and rocking “what do you see?” was my query after a the boat. long wait. everybody's magazine the white-haired man was silent. his little galleries that run around her stern, deck eyes remained fast to the double eyepiece of on deck. do you see the big bronze lantern the water-telescope. a violent curiosity con- where the thick kelp hangs heavy down, and sumed me. for many minutes he was silent; the cannon with black heads stuck forth from then he raised his face illumined with a the bows? iron cannon are they for fighting strange rapture in the sparkling eyes. ahead. now turn the tube to the right. look “you shall see—the sun will be in perfect how her broadside leans upward, slanting on position in a few minutes." her beams. see you the big ports, big as a i seized the water-telescope with eager house's windows, and the muzzles of cannon straining hands and bent above the glistening —some score and a half out of forty, the rest swells. the sun beat warm upon my back. sunk in the sand or her hold? forty guns on the green blur of the sun-shot waters the larboard and forty on the starboard and mounted quivering to my eyes. the glazed ten on deck and stern-ninety guns the almi- depths palpitated with the restless uncertain ranta bore. those long green things you mark light and i saw naught clearly. but soon out streaming from the broken mast in the flow of the bright liquid haze emerged a shadowy are kelp and sea-tangle. i call them the thing, outstretched beneath the boat prone battle-flags of my almiranta, red and green, along the bottom of the sea that glimmered up yellow and purple, flapping in the thick of the with its yellow sands. how great, how small, tides. ever, ever i think of the large san how deep, how shallow it was, what might martin, golden galleon and mighty sea- be substance and what shadow, i could not fortress, going down, as i would have it, all say. then, as my eyes were adjusted to the sails set, all flags flying, all guns flaming, with shifting medium and pierced the currents red battle-lanterns all litten, fighting to the crossing in the deeps, detail after shadowy last, fighting the english sea-hounds, fighting detail stood vaguely forth, shaded and re- the storm. down in the dark storm-night lieved by the transmitted sunbeams. un- she went with all her brave blest souls, all certain, nebulous, phantasmal like some those undaunted men of spain, and only three mystic monster in a green fog or a sulphur- were left-only three! there they are all ous smoke the spectral bulk declared itself. lying now, down in the cold, diego florez and in my ears, close and clear, rang the voice all his men and officers, duke and marquess, of the aged costello. the outer world van- admiral, sailor, and fighting man, all sons of ished and the present time; all senses fled sunny mother spain, on the floor of these cold save sight and hearing. scotch seas right under us, under those decks “do you see her," spoke that voice out of you see, holding guard of the treasure." the grayest past, “do you see her, the great the wonder-wrought voice of the de- almiranta under us? those flat yellow scendant of the castillos ceased, while still spaces that look like shelves of the sea-bottom with aching eyes and bent back i lay across are her decks, loaded with drift-sand. do the hot seats and sent my vision through the you see her three masts, broken off sharp and emerald sun-lighted deeps. short? one of them lies slant athwart her “look close, look hard under the admiral's decks at an angle. mark its fighting-top deck. two openings there all broken out. leaning against the face of the rock. that farther forward mark you a great hatch mass of weed is a tangle of cordage, all slimy where now and then the fish and crabs pass green it is. mark you the steps that go to out. there the treasure lies. from the old the admiral's deck, all carven they and gilt. castillos i have the tale and tally of all her when the sun is right-and it is right now, treasure. ingots a-many-ingots of african you can see the gilt so well. do you spy those gold and peruvian silver, and pearls from the green things lying about the decks where the antilles. gems, too, she carried in oaken sand is low near the broken balustrade? chests bound with brass, and a store of the brass cannon those, deck cannon of brass crown jewels. in specie there were thousands torn loose and rolling about her decks when and thousands, ducats and pistoles and span- she went down. i have read the old spanish ish double pistoles called doubloons. all chronicles and calderon's account of the these lie there under the decks safe and armament, and i know! do you see the high sound in the belly of the galleon, safe in her poop, fretted and decked like a booth at hull of black oak. michaelmas fair-all colors and coats of “now look quickly while i tell, for the arms? you can spy the windows and the sun is bringing the shadow of the rock. see derman fink - out of the bright liquid haze emerged a shadowy thing prone along the bottom of the sea. : everybody's magazine longer-it must not belonger, for it must come to me—for never a bairn have i. in seven years, some seven years more. i shall be but nine-and-seventy then, and i shall not leave the earth till my almiranta comes. every day i come and gaze and every week i sound her with a plummet. when it storms i sit at home and say: into the sea, out of the sea, all that is mine, all that is mine, all that is mine, comes back to me. you how the almiranta lies between the two rocks like a wagon between two hayricks? down she went and caught in the jaws of these rocks. and there she hung wedged tight. there i saw her first when by chance i came upon her seven-and-twenty years agone. then she hung free and rested not on any sand-bank as now. then her deck was sixteen fathoms down from the face of the bay. and now it is but six. by wash of the changing currents and the drift of the cliffs crumbling into the sea, the sand-bank piles higher year by year. year by year the hulk of the almiranta san martin, all water-logged, with her gold, her armature, and bony frames of men, is lifted higher and higher as the sand rises under her bulging hull by urge of the currents. so she keeps to her rising, hour by hour, day by day, year by year, up to the day and the sky and to me! so it is that i wait all patient for her coming. the sea took her and the sea gives her back. from the old hidalgos to me, a castillo to take what is our own. for seven-and-twenty years since i first found her have i waited and watched. and seven years more will it be ere her decks take the air. she is safe here; no boats come hither now-only mine-mad costello's who is fishing for a ship! every year she rises more than the year before, but it will be at least seven years. perhaps ten, but not now the shadow comes." slowly, as the beams of the sun were with- drawn, the magic spectacle revealed beneath the fathoms of water grew obscure. the shadow flung from one of the enormous tusks of stone erased the vision in the sea. the dull sand-burdened decks of the sunken galleon seemed slowly to fall back into the dusky profound and the dark floods em- braced the great black bulk until it was seen no more. the shape of a great fish passed over the wreck. then i lifted my throbbing eyes from the water-tube and looked blinking upon the old man smiling at my side in the stark sunlight. the face and form were the face and form of the white-haired costello, barber of tobermory, but the young eyes with their light from the past were the eyes of castillo, fighter and freebooter of hispania. a llyric of the llama by burges johnson ewarpe blatsoek ehold how from her lair the youthful llama llopes forth and llightly scans the llandscape o'er. with llusty heart she llooks upon llife's drama, relying on her late-llearnt worldly llore. but llo! some llad, armed with a yoke infama soon llures her into llowly llabor's cause; her wool is llopped to weave into pajama, and llanguidly she llearns her gees and haws. my children, heed this llesson from all llanguishing young illamas, if you would lllive with illatitude, avoid each llluring may; and do not lllightly illleave, i beg, your illlonesome, illoving mammas, and illiast of allll, don't spelllll your name in such a silllllly way. nulu ovoro talyan cal rytm in un l ilul lic wellen relief-round in front of custom house, naples. attributed to andrea del toucherino. esa .after photo, napoli. . some americans abroad by booth tarkington author of “the gentleman from indiana," "monsieur beaucaire," "the conquest of canaan," etc. illustrations by lawrence mazzanovich e stood on the pier in front of he was an elderly man in dusty black; his the custom-house at naples, hat, overlarge, was of black felt; he wore a waiting for the deutschland black "string" tie, half-curtained by a strag- to send her passengers gling gray beard, and his expression indicated ashore. she lay inside the that for an indefinite period—perhaps for distant breakwater, panting months—he had been without a hope of any and relaxed after her long kind. his melancholy eyes were bent upon once - a - winter scoot from the steamer and he spoke apparently to the america to the mediterranean; her passen- air, not directly addressing anybody, but there gers, detained on board by the health of was no doubt that he had approached us be- ficers, crowding the landward rails like flies on cause we were so evidently americans; there- a thin slice of cake. there was a long wait, fore it seemed incumbent on us to reply. but the february sky was clear, the air warm, “i think they're delayed because of some the sun jovial; vesuvius smoked his friendly difficulty about giving them a clean bill of pipe overhead; sorrento smiled across the health,” i said. way; capri lay, a leviathan of carved ame- “well, sir, you may be right," he sighed. thyst, on the horizon. that is to say, all “if it's so, you can bet that's the only bill round and about was the bay of naples, they'll have any trouble gittin'! still, i wish where it is sweet to do nothing, and we on they'd hurry and let the pore things off.” the pier did our waiting unimpatiently. and “you have friends aboard?” yet there sounded at my elbow a note of sor “oh, no. i always come down when a row and complaint: steamer lands. i don't have much else to do, “i suppose the dagoes are keepin' them and i kind of like to see folks that are sort of pore americans out there”-it was a voice of fresh from home and be'n in god's country weary querulousness—"to see if they've got within a week or so. and then, besides”- enough money left after their trip to make it his dull eyes showed a glimmer of something worth while to let 'em come ashore." not unlike vindictive anticipation—"some- some americans abroad times a good many of 'em have be'n seasick all kinds of doin's and ceremonies in that ca- on the way over, and they look like it.” he thedral up-town a ways, yonder. i fergit how paused. a slight change came over his face, much the feller said they was goin' to spend and he added: “i always feel mighty sorry for on it; but she knows and she'll write it all out them!” fer her literary club at home. i took her up if i had known him better i might have there and left her, before i come down here, hurled the lie in his face. instead, however, this morning. she tried to keep me, but i i asked: broke out as soon as she wasn't lookin'. “you suffered, yourself, when you she'd landed me before, in a place called crossed?" milan, where they was layin' away one of his gaze shifted slowly and piteously to these dago generals, and once again in rome meet mine. “did i suffer?” he faltered. she got me—a child, that was. there's too “did i sur—" the word choked him. much about all kinds of dead people in this “young man," he went on, when he had re- country, especially old dead people that of gained his self-control, “i'm from central be'n dead ever sence scripture times, or worse. iowa; i've crossed the mississippi river i don't see why they can't let 'em alone and plenty of times—on a railway bridge--and quit talkin' about 'em. and look at their pub- that's the nearest to bein' on the water i ever lic buildings; they don't take any pride in 'em come till she persuaded me to take this trip. as long as they're any livin' use in the world! did i suffer? i wouldn't of stayed a week soon as there's nothin' left but a few chunks, in the old country if it hadn't be'n fer that they try to drag you around to admire 'em! i'm only waitin' till my homesickness gits so 'no, ma'am,' i told her, ‘no more funerals much worse than my fear of seasickness that i for me!' i don't say that this funeral ain't jest can't stand it! then, i reckon there'll goin' to be an expensive one, but i druther go be another old fool go back to iowa with down and see a ship-load of live folks from the sense enough never to leave it again!” united states!” “you don't like it over here?” the tender from the deutschland had at “like it?” almost he laughed, albeit last been allowed to leave the steamer, and, from heart-bitterness. “we landed at a place crowded with passengers, it now sidled along called bremen, 'way up yonder, and come the broad steps that lead up from the water, all the way down here, stoppin' off every lit and the voyagers began to spring ashore. the tle while, and the countries and towns gittin' voice of the friend we had come to meet called more heathenish and tumble-down and dirtier our names from the tender; we waved a greet- and smellin' worse every step of the way. and ing and turned to descend the steps. a hand nowhere a single thing i ever want to see on my shoulder detained me for a moment. again! we'd come to a town; i'd hire a hack “there!” said my melancholy acquaint- and ask the hotel people to tell the driver to ance, with a note of cheer in his voice, pointing take me around the residence section first to the bow of the boat. “up there in front, and the business section afterward. usually settin' on a trunk-see that pore, white-faced, they thought i was crazy, and sometimes, limp-like feller? he looks to me”-he dis- what with the lonesomeness and everybody tantly approached a chuckle—“like he's had hollerin' in all these languages, they come a pretty mean time of it on the way over. i near being right. o lord, i want to git back feel mighty sorry fer him, but i can't say it to a country where i can read the signs!” don't pretty near serve him right. wasn't “you mean the street-signs?” there enough sights in his own country fer him “yes, sir! the signs over the stores; and to look at?" where an empty house has got jest a good, plain, old 'for rent' on it and where they after dinner, that evening, we were going don't call a hotel office a ‘bureau'! all that over the iowan's complaint, repeating and don't bother her the way it does me, but she dwelling upon it, so that we should not for- and i never did like things so much the same get it, when one said: way. she's puttin' in a great morning right “wasn't he the typical american abroad now. you heard about that big catholic though!” that's dead here lately?” but another disclaimed this. “no, he was “a little. he was a monsignore " so far from being typical that you knew him at “bishop, or something. she heard last once for a ‘character'. if he had been typi- night they was goin' to bury him to-day, with cal, you wouldn't have noticed him.” everybody's magazine while that, of course, was true, our friend tence lacks construction because it is the of the morning was far from unique. he has writer's wish to present only the essentials of hundreds of fellow-sufferers every year upon what he is trying to report. the continent; like him in their loneliness, such people see not only too much but dazedness, and comprehensive protest, though too little in “the life over here,” which life few are so articulate, most of them bearing means to them a really interesting and thrill- their woe in silence, and only turning the eyes ing struggle for what they believe to be of a sick dog upon the women-folk who have "position” and “social recognition.” how- dragged them down to the sea in ships. ever, their “climbing" upward through the england is painful enough for them, but the continental “foreign colonies” and out into continent is a revelation of cruel and unusual native continental society is more picturesque punishment. the continent holds no charm than most climbing at home, because upon for them; they plaintively hate it, seeing the continent it is more visible and conspicu- “nothing in it"; yet they form a pleasing con- ous. the rungs of the ladder are sharply de- trast to those americans who see too much in fined. and, of course, a climbing american it. to the cursory eye the latter class appears finds his task much easier in a european to be increasing very rapidly; the class of the city than he would find it in his own home alienated, of those who say: "shawly you town, since (so far as origin goes) all ameri- never intend returning to the states to live! cans look alike to most of the worldly people it's all very well to run back for a few weeks of europe and are “taken up” for what they now and then to see one's friends—but living are worth—and not seldom taken in for all there? oh, quite impossible!” they are worth. perhaps this seems exaggerated. perhaps it may work little real harm that the it may be thought founded not on reality but climbers have taught most of the people upon a comic weekly. on the contrary, talk toward whom they climb to believe that all of the kind is exceedingly common in the americans are snobs. but it is a fact un- “american colonies" on the continent, and pleasant to contemplate. in some european so wig bio mtv orl chapnv lorenc just o na.com. apoli . the people who say such things are those who usually manage to mention, in the course of any conversation you may have with them, that “dear countess blank was saying” to them, “only yesterday," and also that "lord feathersonhaugh—" the foregoing sen- cities it is notorious that philanthropists of title have learned to count upon our snob- bishness to help them with their charities. perhaps they believe anything is justified that is done for the poor. one day last winter, in one of the larger italian cities, i had gone to prom a description by bi flon by bill clou florence see an american friend who was staying at my wife will be glad to take their notes and the most expensive hotel, and as we sat talk- cards home with her and casually show them ing in the lobby, a boy brought him a note, to her friends. now, where did these peo- the envelope of which bore a crest. ple get the idea ? it must have been from “a messenger from the marchesa b— the americans that they've known. that's bring this for you, sir. the messenger wait the thing that outrages me! they've been answer.” taught !” “i don't know the marchesa b- ," said to rome, a few weeks later, came some my friend, opening the envelope, “but i know americans presenting an electrifying con- what her note is. yes, i thought so.” he trast to the “teachers” who enraged my handed the enclosure to me. the message friend. buffalo bill's “wild west” rough- was in french, and to this effect: rode under the walls of the eternal city, and toward the great scout's whooping arena we the marchesa b has the pleasure of enclos- bent our steps. the dance was on when we ing eight tickets for the approaching kermess, for the benefit of the blank society in the blankese arrived, but we found an usher who was gardens. the marchesa b— has not had the shoving and haranguing a confused, seat- pleasure of meeting monsieur a— but is assured seeking crowd of italians, exhorting them in that his well-known benevolence will be attracted homelike nebraskan words. his attitude by so worthy a charity. the tickets are twenty-five lire each. toward them was that of an irritated drover, but when he accepted the coupons for our box mr. a- placed the tickets upon the boy's and looked our party over, he showed a cer- tray. “return these to the messenger with tain relief in meeting fellow-countrymen my regrets,” he said, and then to me, “that whom he could admit-at least in italy—to is perhaps the tenth time the thing has hap- terms of equality. pened in the last week or so. you see we “everything's gone all to thunder to-day," have a large suite in the hotel and a big tour- he remarked crossly. “that there king and ing-car- and we are americans. that's queen's here.” (his manner of alluding enough for these people to hear—and so the to the royal personages suggested that he marchesas and principes begin sending in thought of them as cards in a deck.) “we their requests for contributions to their pet never got word they was comin' till half an charities. the point of it is that not one of hour before we opened; the boxes were all these requests has come from an untitled took and we've had one blank of a time person: you see they count on impressing us fixin' things up an' gittin' that king and with their nobility, count on our being silly queen settled right. these coupons call for and cheap enough to subscribe to a charity, the next box beyond 'em, and the dago not for its own sake, but on account of these ushers have gone and stuck some people in titles and names. i suppose they think, too, there, somebody that belongs to the king and that they give us our money's worth, and that queen, i reckon, and— ” kok watteay ko si this pictoorwuz painted bymitchellanglo greatmarster of the r blarburzonacole hitis doneinoilver tyfine. al louvre paris tuesday, october it . pm wiaty fair but slightly cloudy “then we'll have to give up our box?” of his self-control: “yol git 'em out some one asked nervously. o' there!” “naw! you got the tickets, ain't you? we interfered at this point and effected a you git it! come on.” compromise by squeezing more chairs into he led the way across the enclosure, be- the box, to the pained surprise of our usher, stowing, as he passed before the royal box, a who, as he slouched away, manifested his brief glance of annoyance upon victor em- opinion of us as “easy.” “it seemed to take manuel ii. we followed. me right back to the courthouse square," re- a lady and three gentlemen were seated in marked one of our party. “that boy was so the box numbered upon our coupons. they homelike, i can't believe i'm in rome. it'sim- were smilingly interested in the performance possible! my willing soul has fitted back to of irontail and his friends. “you git out o' a day, fifteen years ago, when one like him put there,” said our guide informally. “that me out of the grand stand at the trotting-races ain't your box.” at the illinois state fair, for having the wrong the four occupants, not having the faintest ticket. i went as quietly and quickly as i idea of what he was saying, paid no attention. could, but two thousand people were looking thereupon he tapped one of the gentlemen at me before i got to the foot of the steps." brusquely upon the shoulder. “git!” he re- after an hour or so, we heard the voice of peated with a bitter frown. “git out o' here, our champion again. he was working all of you!” through the upper tiers of seats, about seventy the gentleman drew back, offended at feet from us, selling tickets for the concert the touch, indignant at the tone in which that was to follow. he was addressed, and otherwise entirely at “here you are, good people!” he shouted. sea. “ching-quanty chentessmy. here's your there was an exclamation of horror from billetty per grandy conshirto after the show. an upper tier and one of the english-speaking grandy conshirto! ching-quanty chentess- italian ushers came rushing down an aisle my per grandy conshirto! there you are, with a blanched face; he bent himself double old hyena-face! dewy billetty. ching- before the occupants of the box, uttering quanty chentessmy, ladies and gents, per stricken apologies in italian, which were ab- grandy conshirto!” ruptly checked by our guide. his roving eye fell upon our upturned faces “here! i ain't got no more time to waste. and he saw that we were watching him. these folks got coupons fer the whole box. “you hear me, boys!” he shouted to us with tell them people to git out o' there an' tell a grin, perfect in its serenity. “you hear me 'em to hurry." and this dago langwidges! ain't i good ?” “get them out?” repeated the italian, im- measurably shocked. “imposs-s-sible! you an aversion to the tourist is to be found, i do not understand! it is the prince and suppose, everywhere in the world. no doubt princess di " the feeling could be traced to the hatred for a our guide cut him off “in no uncertain nouveau that animated the breast of some terms." he bent upon him a look of wither- primordial mud-turtle as he watched a mi- ing pity. “that cuts all the ice in hudson's grating dragon-fly skimming superficially bay, don't it?” he replied with venomous dis- down the creek and away. thus, in water- tinctness, and then, exasperated to the extent ing-places, in summer resorts or winter re- some americans abroad bishop potter was entirely correct in his es- timation of english sentiment toward us. at its average that sentiment seems to be one of more or less tolerant dislike, perhaps tinged with pained amusement. for one thing, the english do not understand the american's "offhand” ways, his ease of mind in regard to informal acquaintanceship, his lack of sus- picion. ... one day, not long ago, two american travelers were sitting in the buffet of an italian hotel, when an englishman came in, an englishman not remarkably un- like the rare “pawtucket" type. some one had happened to introduce the two ameri- cans to him the day before and they were anxious to see more of him; his voice alone was a treat. one of them said: “lord h- , won't you join us? won't you have tea at our table?" sorts, those who live in houses somewhat disdain those who are lodged in hotels, and those who are lodged in hotels despise the day. excursionists. and so it is with our country- men abroad: the permanent fixtures of a col- ony, following a seemingly universal law, show a certain consciousness of superiority (often expressed by graciousness) to those who take villas or apartments for the season; the latter exhibit the same feeling for the people who come to the hotels for a month or so; and here kindliness ends, for all unite to exe- crate the tourist. exactly what a tourist is, one finds it difficult to ascertain; but it is widely assumed that he is a blot. in eng- land he is sometimes called a “tripper." however, you will more often hear sensitive americans and english alluding to him as a “dreadful pahson.” from many sources of information it is to be inferred that the shameful term “tourist” applies to: . traveling americans or ger- mans. . persons traveling in charge of a guide or a “lecturer.” . persons carrying a baedeker. . persons who stay less than a week in any one place. . persons interested in "sight- seeing” or the landscape. in a rough classification of de- grees of unpopularity, the german appears to lead; at least you hear more abuse of “those terrible ger- mans” than of the travelers of other nationalities. it is difficult to de- termine the reason for this unless it is that our honest teuton is sel- dom beautiful to alien eyes; and is apt to wear a costume unappre- ciated out of its own country; also, the hearty guttural sputterings of the good old german language are almost ludicrously painful to un- german ears, especially in italy. however, if it were not for the american's anxiety to be rid of his money, i believe he might lead even the german in the race for unpopularity. but the german is thrifty; it takes some ingenuity, and more persist- ence, to overcharge or cheat him. certainly the american traveler is not loved for himself alone. “beneath i think they all really dislike us,” is a common enough phrase on the lips of thoughtful americans, and i believe that most of these agree that se stutti mer om w mc # tre clie e na tiberius vsd dear o. capri i mo". the englishman looked languidly upon him. “no, thank you," he sang quietly, and then, turning to the steward, “tommy, are none of the usual gentlemen about this after- noon?”. . that was the result to have been expected, and the sequel was quite as inevitable in its way. the “usual gentlemen” (a cosmopol- itan group), coming in presently, elected to sit with the two americans. lord h- then calmly joined them. one of the ameri- + everybody's magazine cans was from the central west, and before is it, possibly, because they fear their fellow- the afternoon was over lord h— had ac- countrymen may do or say something absurd cepted his invitation to come to shoot over and thus discredit themselves? however that his big game preserves in the mountains of may be, it is, as the farm-hand said on the ohio. the american told him that the paw- fifth of july, “a mighty pore feeling." paw shooting was particularly good. alas for the tourist! he is unaware of his tourists who do their touring in an auto- low estate; he knows nothing of the disdain in mobile escape opprobrium; they are not called which he is held by his fellow-countrymen of “tourists,” but “automobilists," or "motor- the colonies, for he is made welcome by every ists." (n. b. it is not absolutely necessary to one with whom he comes in contact-by inn- have an automobile for this; often the clothes keepers, guides, porters, waiters, cab-drivers, alone will suffice.) that is the only escape; shopkeepers, musicians, chambermaids, beg- and the sensitive definition of the tourist is not girs, stewards, and ticket-agents. those limited to “dreadful pahson"; far from it: who regard him with disdain, keep him in for it is only in guide-books and railway ignorance of his shame by holding aloof from posters that he escapes the adjective damna- him, and so, having no consciousness of the tory. he is called “odious," "horrid,” “low," need of improving his condition, he carries (as etc. in this connection, one of the strangest a rule, though i do not forget my friend of things in the world is the inflection with which the naples pier) a merry and interested face some of our countrymen speak the word over europe, and the air resounds pleasantly “american,” as if it meant something un- to the hearty voices and laughter of all his pleasant or grotesque; and those who so use kind. it are not always expatriates. they come by the many thousands; every half a dozen americans stand at one end year their numbers mightily increase; greater of an aisle of notre dame in paris, another and greater grow the enormous ships, built half dozen at the other end. the two par- and launched, one directly after another; but ties exchange glances of hostility at first sight. they can hardly be built fast enough to carry says a lady of the first half dozen: “the the multitudes that overspread england und place is spoiled. one can never come here france and germany and switzerland in the without finding a lot of americans!" . spring and summer and early autumn. in says a lady of the second half dozen, with winter all who have not gone home seem to be a shiver: “let us go. here come a lot of crowded into italy, so that the country is americans!” scarcely big enough to hold them. and more the englishman, of course, feels that we coming every day by the mediterranean route! spoil the great monuments with our intru- one afternoon last february a young mem- sions. his mental and emotional process ber burst into the lounging-room of the cos- might be conceived as follows: “i wish to mopolis club in rome and called to a group look at the monument; i do not wish to look at of friends in a corner: you, whoever you are, and it is an added an- “hi! you'd better come quick if you noyance that you are americans.” but it is don't want to miss it!” astonishing to find that this seems to be ex- “what is it? what is the matter?". actly the feeling of hundreds of travelers and “i just saw two italians in the piazza di “colonists” who are themselves americans. spagna. if you don't hurry they'll be gone!” s oos back to paducah the mystery of bird-flight by harold bolce author of "the new internationalism," ete. with photographs copyrighted by doubleday, page á co., · and from the american museum of natural history. he study of the flight of ger ships, so this early form of air-craft, deli- birds is of vast impor- cately framed, will probably be supplanted tance to civilization, for by sturdy carriers transporting cargoes of all it is leading to man's kinds across the sky. actual navigation of the aerial piracy will then succeed smuggling. air. if aerial ships suc navigation of the air will swing wide the ceed in sailing at will gate to the most alluring field ever invaded against the wind, that tri- by daring buccaneers. umph, which now seems possible, will revo- imagine the immediate results: if a pirate lutionize the economic and political conditions craft can descend from the sky and turn loose of the world. a bandit crew to rob a bank or a railway assuming that the present promises of train in america one day, and, scuttling aerial flight will be fulfilled, this is the prob- through the clouds, can reach safety in the able result: the pioneer craft of the sky now balkans, the carpathians, or in darkest africa commanded by daring scientists will give way the next, the present sense of international to aerial pleasure-ships cruising at high speed. security will be destroyed. the next step, if no great wars in the mean nations will be compelled in self-protection time divert attention from the value of aerial to convene a world congress and to declare navigation in promoting international trade, common warfare upon aerial brigandage. will be an air-ship traffic in light-weight the conquest of one civilized state by another merchandise, like silks, perhaps, from yoko- will be a thing of the past. all countries hama to america and europe, and diamonds will realize that the only enemy to be fought from antwerp to new york. is the aerial outlawry that must menace the smugglers will almost instantly take ad- stability of every civilization. vantage of air-ship navigation to evade cus- in consequence, every air-ship will be toms frontiers, and the effect will be to obliged to have an international license. the make foolish the nearly two hundred tariff world, become an economic unit, will com- walls that now divide the nations. it will bine against all the ships of the air that be impossible for any nation to keep out know no law. an international system of contraband craft, which could cross an ocean aerial squadrons will be organized to destroy or a continent in a night. no country can the highwaymen of the heavens. maintain a sufficient number of aerial revenue there are many skeptics who doubt the cutters to patrol the sky. that would be coming of the air-ship. it has already flown almost like attempting to control the move- short distances. despite this, the unbelievers ments of migratory birds. have their eyes fixed upon the ground. the as the next step, just as the caravels of same men scouted the possibility of horseless spain and the yankee packets have given vehicles. their forbears laughed at the tele- way to trade steamers and turbine passen- graph. samuel morse told them at wash- everybody's magazine ington that if he could send a message ten further, they assert that up to at least two miles, he would ultimately flash one around thousand pounds, the accidents of flight will the world. but when congress reluctantly diminish as the weight of the air-ship is in- voted a few thousand dollars to build an creased. recently, alexander graham bell experimental line from the national capital authorized the publication of his prediction to baltimore, one of the class of doubters that within ten years war-ships will follow that now laughs loud at the promise of the birds in the air, and that passengers on aerial air-ship, moved as an amendment that part liners can eat breakfast as they leave the of the appropriation be used for the survey american continent and dine the same day in of a railway route to the moon. liverpool or berlin. the great fortune that the air-ship has vast possibilities. it will this inventor has made out of the tele- bear watching. phone acquits him of having been a visionary in the past, however staggering his present man has been studying the flight of birds prophecy. for centuries. he has attempted to imitate the most determined leaders of the new it, and has gone deep into biology trying to school now candidly confess that since the ascertain the principles involved. yet all. mongolfier brothers sent up their balloon but one of these principles has remained un- in france, more than a century has been discovered. truly, it has seemed that the wasted in aerial experiments totally foreign exclamation of the philosopher in the book to the laws of bird-flight. if birds were lighter of proverbs, “the way of an eagle in the than air, they would be blown about as bal- air! this is too wonderful for me," was to loons are now. even the dirigible balloon, remain for all time the epigrammatic sum- though provided with a sail-like rudder and ming up of man's inability to unravel the propelled by a wheel operated by a motor, mystery of travel across the heavens. can be guided about only in a calm. these the one fact in regard to the flight of birds craft, lighter than the atmosphere, are not air- that has struggled for recognition through- ships. they are merely modified balloons. out all the years of theorizing and discussion last year i witnessed an experiment in is that these creatures are not buoyant. navigation of the air by one of these buoyant alive they weigh practically the same as when vehicles. from a window in the east room dead. shot in mid-air they fall like meteors of the white house i saw it sail over the a bird is not a balloon. indeed, the bulk of washington monument and come down to a bird is nearly one thousand times heavier visit president roosevelt. i saw the presi- than air. dent go out and greet the aeronaut and later this fundamental principle, that all winged i saw the daring voyager rise in his craft, creatures are heavier than the bulk of the which he guided at will over the treasury air they displace, has vast significance for building and down pennsylvania avenue to aeronauts, who are now for the first time put- the national capitol. there his advent cre- ting it in operation. it is on this basis that ated such excitement that it broke up a 'ses- bold experimenters, abandoning balloons, are sion of the senate. so thoroughly stirred launching aeroplanes and other aerial craft was the city that the captain of this aerial actually heavier than air. it was the pio- vessel was asked by the superintendent of neers who, disregarding gas and gossamer the schools to fly from his country park to bags, went to the condor and the tawny vul- washington again the next day for the de- ture for instruction that paved the way for light and edification of the children. this the current successes of santos dumont in was agreed to, and twenty-four hours later paris and of the wright brothers in america. fifty thousand little ones crowded the ellipse, a new interest has now been awakened the parks, and the open spaces around throughout the world in the physics of bird- washington monument and by special per- flight. reasoning from the nubian vulture, mission were allowed to clamber to the bal- which, weighing from seventeen to twenty- cony around the capitol's dome. two pounds, moves majestically in its course on the first day there had been a dead undisturbed by tempests, advanced students calm. on the children's day, there was a of aerial navigation predict that an aero- slight breeze blowing, just enough to give plane weighing ten times as much as a vul- definite direction to the smoke from chimneys ture will ultimately move through the air and to make the flags wave, but that breath with even greater security and steadiness. of wind was too formidable for the fragile the mystery of bird-flight balloon - supported ship. it did not appear, though the thousands of children re- mained until nightfall, their eager gaze fixed on the heavens. i understood then what the most progressive ornith- ologists and students of aeronautics meant by insist- ing that the balloon has no analogue in nature and that if any bird were lighter than the air, it would be unable to determine the course of its flight whenever a slight wind was stirring. creature, this network of air- chambers, becoming filled with air warmer than the surrounding atmosphere, en- ables the bird to rise. it is true that the gannet, the pigeon, the pelican, the al- batross, and other flying birds are equipped with air-cham- bers, but the australian emu, which flies, when at all, with the greatest difficulty, as well as the ostrich and the apteryx, which cannot fly at all, are also provided with these air-cells —and so, too, is the orang-utan! moreover, notably good flyers-swiſts, martins, snipes, the gloss starling, the spotted-flycatcher, the wood-wren, and the black-headed bunting, have bones destitute of air, some of them, in fact, being filled with marrow. no fallacy in science has been more diffi- there have been decades of dispute over the value of the hollow bones and the air- sacs in many species of birds. it has been contended that inasmuch as the temperature of birds is higher than that of any other the black skimmer darting down for prey. " rowers" proceeding by kapid beating of wings. cult to puncture than this air-cell or balloon only during the period of courtship. it then theory of flight. the great air-pouch of the assumes a bright red color or takes on its sur- man-o'-war bird and the gular pouch of the face the blue tints of the sky. then as this bustard, both strong flyers, have been fre- bird balloon begins to subside it assumes a quently cited in support of the theory that translucent orange shade. all this perform- the inflation of suitable receptacles is an indis- ance, naturalists employed by the united pensable factor in the most successful flight. states government have set forth in a recent it is true that the pouch of the man-o'-war report, is merely a theatrical display on the bird when inflated resembles a toy balloon part of the male to attract attention to his tied to his neck. the curious thing about charms. after he wins his mate and the eggs this is, however, that the pouch is blown up are laid, he ceases to inflate his toy balloon. the mystery of bird-flight the explanation of bird-flight that occurs the sharp-shinned hawk in pursuit of prey to the casual observer is that these winged maintains an unerring flight. if the pursued creatures fly by flapping their wings. but all wheels suddenly, so does the pursuer; and birds do not do so. in fact, the birds that fly cooper's hawk, in pursuit of small birds, the best and most fearlessly can proceed for speeds through the undergrowth of a forest, hours and sometimes for a whole day, and not darting in and out like a shadow, and never infrequently against the force of a storm, with coming in contact with a limb. out making the slightest perceptible move- as a further illustration, selected out of ment of their wings. numberless instances, take the marsh hawk. considerable study has been devoted to in the nesting period, the female, sitting on the remarkable ability of vultures to fly with her eggs, waits for the male, who forages out beating their wings. field observations about, seeking what he may bring to his in northern africa reveal that some of the mate. at the instant he appears overhead, larger species of vulture leave their perches in the female rises with great power, poises at the morning and soar about all day over the proper point, and dexterously seizes the mountains and valleys, covering a distance food he drops into her talons. there is no of many leagues, and return to their eyries at waiting for a favorable air-current. night, without a single stroke of their wings this theory of necessary air-currents may throughout the whole day's voyaging. have been as serious a hindrance to the prog- although the secret of flight on motionless ress of aeronautics as has been the fallacy wings is at present beyond the solution of that, in order to sail, a ship must be lighter science, the principle involved gives promise than air. but the fact that there is among of being the one that would be most success- the myriad of bird species a number that fully applied by man in aerial travel. it is wing their way without effort in either calm true that nearly all insects and most of the or storm, some of them sailing on motion- small birds proceed by beating their wings, less pinions, furnishes the hope and possi- sometimes with almost incredible velocity. bility that man may also be- possibly the air-ships of the future, par- come absolute master of the ticularly those designed for short trips, air. the air-ship may some- may pro- time be as ceed by this indifferent method. but to wind as the present is an ocean tendency is liner. toward sail- ing flight. • another the most theory to com mon which stu- theory in dents of explanation of flight on bird - flight have devoted motionless wings is that years is that the secret of the birds take advantage flight lies in preliminary of air-currents. it is true momentum gained by run- that birds like the alba- ning or by leaping from a tross need an unfailing height. breeze to enable them to the advocates of this sail, but the man-o'-war interesting theory claim bird can rise in the calm, that the little birds, like and can sail without move- the blackbird, the lark, ment of its wings. and the tomtit, have to another consideration make a prodigious leap that weakens the air-cur- before they can get safe- rent idea is that birds of ly a - wing, and that the prey will dart instantly in larger ones, like plov- any direction, quite re- ers and tringas, get into gardless of air-currents, action in the air by first when a victim appears. the cowbird. running on the ground. everybody's magazine the pigeon's. walter k. fisher, the nat- uralist who explored the laysan and the leeward islands for the united states government, reports that these birds when roused from the nest first sprawled a wkwardly over bushes in the attempt to get aloft, but that cnce a-wing they rose with power and grace, soaring. the barn swal- low in full far from this law being universally true, there are many species of winged flight. creatures, particu- larly some of the hawks and the eagles, that can rise at will into the air without preliminary running. this law of initial energy, however, while not a universal one in flight, has been utilized to great advantage in experiments with air-ships. a review, therefore, of some of the experiments and observations of ornithologists in this connection may be profitable. the tawny vulture has been de- scribed as the king of soarers, but he must get initial energy. let him leap from a crag and he can sail upward on motionless wing until his great bulk seems to dwindle to the dimensions of an insect and finally disappears. yet this matchless flyer, adopted by progressive experiment- ers as the model for aerial craft, if put in a roofless cage twenty yards high and twenty yards wide, is un- able to escape! the frigate-bird also supplies con- spicuous proof that the wing alone does not contain the whole me- chanical principle of flight. con- fined in a certain area this bird, whose aerial evolutions have excited the admiration of every naturalist and mariner that has beheld them, is absolutely powerless. it cannot rise verti- cally. its pectoral muscles are weaker than the tern in various stages of flight, almost disappearing in the profound depths of the sky. the tern like the gull both beats its wings and sails. take another instance: a naturalist visiting took the second petrel to an upper story and algeria bought from a sailor four captive launched it from a window, but having no in- stormy petrels. they weighed about . itial velocity it too fell like a stone. the third pounds apiece, their wings were five inches bird he took to the top of an observatory, and wide and had a spread of four feet. the pushed it out into space. it flapped its wings ability of the petrel to breast the most furi- desperately but nevertheless lunged down- ous storms has been universally admired. ward and broke its wings against a post. its name is derived from its power of walking the naturalist was now convinced that the stormy petrel's feats at sea are made possible because it first gets up momentum by running along the top of the water. wishing to give the remaining bird a chance to demonstrate his theory, he took it out into a desertlike plain bare of grass, smooth as the surface of a calm sea. “here,” the naturalist reports, “i set my fourth petrel down. it squatted at first and then turned with its beak to the wind and its wings outstretched, and started running, beat- ing its wings, not hampered by any herbage. it ran a hundred yards, carrying its weight less and less on its feet, and finally all on its wings, but all the time skimming the ground. on the waves, like the apostle peter, and its at last with a single bound, catching the wind, courage and strength in planting its foot- the petrel rose sixty feet, careened around and steps on the crests of the most tempestuous flew past me overhead and glanced at me on sea, have given a text to many writers. the its way, as if to say: ‘success in flight is all naturalist, wishing to release his captive pet based upon momentum.”” rels, threw one of them into the air. it tried but the scientists who pin their faith to to fly but fell headlong, went crashing against initial momentum omit explanation as to how a stone wall and battered out its brains. he sailing-birds can hover in a certain spot on the tody. the pigeon at the moment of starting: showing that initial velocity is not an invariable law of flight. motionless wing, and then proceed, without for some birds, but the law is not universal. any need of initial velocity, on their mysteri- air-ships employing some power outside of ous flight. the craft itself at the start, have already been even the little sparrow-hawk can perform launched successfully, thus showing that the this seeming miracle. the naturalist bendire principle can be made to apply. but that describes how these handsome, diminutive fal- all air-ships of the future must invoke this cons, even when flying at full speed, have the law and be shot out of aerial harbors on power to arrest their flight instantly and to headlong voyages is by no means evident. suspend themselves in midair over some spot where they have located their prey, and then, if in the attempt to discover some universal occasion requires, to resume their rapid flight. law of flight scientists have disclosed concern- the goshawk, too, one of the most sangui- ing a number of species a most puzzling nary bandits of the air, whose flight is swift paradox, perhaps, the most mysterious of the and amazingly strong, does not bother with enigmas of bird-flight. it is that in a number preliminaries. it sits in a secluded spot, and of birds and insects the size of the wings de- at the instant a ptarmigan passes, the gos- creases in proportion to the increase in size hawk rises like a rocket and seizes its quarry. of the body of the flying creature. the aus- it has, besides, been seen to sail for hours in tralian crane, for instance, weighs over three the alaskan sky, without the slightest motion hundred times more than the sparrow, but of its pinions, and then suddenly to rush in proportion has only one-seventh the wing across the azure when a bird victim ventured area of the smaller bird. within sight. this curious law is equally striking if we i have before me a scientist's report of the compare birds with insects. if the gnat were striking spectacle of an eagle launching him- increased in size until it was as large as the self from an ash-tree and rising steadily for a australian crane and if the wings of the insect hundred yards into the air, “while he also were enlarged to maintain the proportion they advanced some fifty yards against the wind, now bear to its body, they would be about one without a single beat or impulse of his mighty hundred and fifty times larger than the crane's. wing." it requires . square feet of wing area obviously the way of a frigate-bird and a per pound to float the bank-swallow, but to petrel is not the way of an eagle and a hawk. sustain the tawny vulture, a monstrous bird in initial impulse, therefore, may be necessary comparison, requires only . of a square foot the mystery of bird-flight .: of wing surface per pound of body. the alba- necessary to amplify wings in keeping with tross, weighing eighteen pounds, has a spread the increase in size of the body, a big air-ship of wing of eleven feet and six inches, while would be impossible, as its sailing area would the trumpeter swan, weighing twenty-eight have to be gigantic. the enormous size of pounds, has a spread of wing of only eight the wings of insects, in comparison with their feet. the stork weighs eight times more than bodies, will appear if the weight of these tiny the pigeon but in proportion has only half as creatures is multiplied to a pound, and their much wing surface. wing area is proportionately increased. thus, the following table, which has been care for example, if the gnat weighed a pound, its fully compiled by a scientist, furnishes further wings would have to cover square feet! reason for the acceptance of the law of wing the dragon-fly would require square feet surfaces. the table discloses that the screech- of wing area, the ladybird . square feet, owl, the sparrow-hawk, the blackheaded gull, the tipula, or crane-fly, . square feet, and the goshawk, the fish-hawk, and the turkey- the bee, . square feet. if this multiplication buzzard all have greater proportionate wing of wing surfaces went on, as weight increased, surface than the condor! through the bird kingdom to the condor, and 'finally to air-ships, the hope of man's aerial flight would have to be greatly limited. wing square feet. it seems apparent that in some strange way of weight. gravity, instead of being a handicap, con- screech-owl...... tributes to the forward movement of the body . . sparrow-hawk ... . . of the bird. one theory is that the wings blackheaded gull. . . . act as kites, and that the body, held to earth goshawk........ . . . by the invisible cords of gravity, serves the fish-hawk....... . . turkey-buzzard.. same purpose that the string does in the hand - flamingo........ . - of a boy. if the boy runs against the wind, griffin-vulture ... . . the kite rises. thus, the heavy body, lung- condor.......... . . ing forward, acts upon the kite-like wings and facilitates the upward journey of the the value of the data set forth in the above bird. it is a somewhat difficult speculation table cannot be overestimated, for if it were to accept. square fect of wing surface per pound weight in pounds. name. surface in . - . . . the gull-billed tern; illustrating flight with motionless wings. everybody's magazine there is another speculation in regard to the puzzling mystery of bird-flight, which is more suggestive and even startling. it is that the bird is a sort of dynamo, and that it very valuable in restoring equilibrium. it is known that the wing is joined to the body of the bird by what is called a universal joint, enabling the creature to make almost every to the moment of alighting, perfect balance must be maintained. absorbs power from the atmosphere. ac- cording to this idea, an elemental force, akin to the secret something that conveys wireless messages, is utilized by the bird. it is likely that the bird's superb ease and grace in the air are due to its ability to main tain absolute balance. if a gull makes the mistake of bending until the wind strikes its head and wings on the top, it will tumble in- stantly. and the sailing-birds, though they make no flapping motion with their wings, are constantly balancing themselves, like a man on a tight rope. some scientists have main- tained that the air-sacs make it possible for the bird to manage minute changes that are possible motion. the body of a man is heavier than water, but if he gets into a po- sition of perfect balance, he will float. in some such way, it is claimed, the bird floats in the air. but as the bird would fall much more rapidly in the air than a man's body would sink in the water, the necessity for a far more subtle ability to keep the center of gravity on the part of the bird is apparent. hence, according to this theory, the bird is provided for this purpose with the most sen- sitive equipment, made up of nerves and mysterious air-ducts; many of the wing feathers, perhaps, acting as sentinels, warn- ing instantly of the slightest approach of shift- ing currents. one view nor is this speculation as fantastic as at modern man that the winged messengers of first it might seem to be. we believe that the the sky fly about in utter abandonment of three semicircular canals of the inner ear of freedom, and beckon him to follow. human beings in some inexplicable way pre- all the governments have become vastly side over the balancing of our bodies. if interested in trying to discover the principles these canals are removed or injured, coordina- of this mysterious aerial flight. germany tion in walking is impossible, and the victim and france have established schools in which is unable even to sit erect. it is, therefore, the physics of bird-flight and the engineering not utterly unbelievable that the air-cells or problems of aeronautics are studied. under hollow bones of birds may facilitate the rare a grant from the smithsonian institution at power of balancing possessed by these winged washington, dr. von lendenfeld, of the creatures. zoological institute, of prague, is conducting yet, even in this phase of the mystery of advanced experiments to discover all the se- bird-flight, we are brought back to the value crets of bird-flight. he has been at this fas- of weight, for without it the greatest feats cinating and significant work for six years, of balancing are impossible. “the eagle," and the facts disclosed have warranted the says one ornithologist, “remains motionless united states government in advancing him in the air, on rigid wings, using only his tail a further sum to continue the experiments. to balance himself. he is as if fixed to the the researches will now include a study of sky. the falcon (a lighter bird) also remains the mechanical laws in the flight of insects. at a fixed point, but he must beat his wings. of the most vital importance at the present the lark cannot perform the maneuver, un- stage of progress in aerial flight is the con- der the same atmospheric conditions, without clusion of scientists that successful flight will painful effort, as it is constantly carried away be achieved in craft vastly heavier than the by the wind.” air displaced; and its corollary—the law of if all birds were extinct, and some paleon- wing surfaces — though not indeed funda- tologist should announce that creatures , mental, is only second in importance. times heavier than air once winged gracefully. it is not the fact that these principles are through it, that the heavier they were the newly discovered that makes them significant, smaller was the relative wing area required, but that aeronauts have daringly accepted and that the very heaviest of these marvelous them as part of the secret of successful flight. creatures were able, without the slightest mo- the auspicious thing is that man is begin- tion, to maintain themselves balanced be- ning to follow the way of the eagle in the air tween earth and sky, he would excite the without waiting to understand all the mys- merriment and even the ridicule of man- tery of its flight. a marconi editor, sitting kind. at a wireless desk and receiving news out of "if the stars,” emerson said, "should ap- the sky for the ship's daily paper, confessed pear one night in a thousand years, how would to me a few months ago that he and his col- man believe and adore, and preserve for leagues were unable to understand the mys- many generations the remembrance of the terious agency they invoked. it is possible city of god which had been shown.” the that when man flies successfully, he will know orderly law in the march of the planets we little more about the law that sustains him have fathomed. it is more suggestive to than the bird knows. one view by theodora wilson wilson lor life is wider than an open eye, is deeper than an unshed tear. the heart moves swifter than the pulse can fly- yet wisdom hides in laughter clear. the husband of a celebrity an autobiography i was once a celebrity. not an eminence. every suggestion that i could she always no fingers pointed at me, nor did hands availed herself of my suggestions, and she still clap when i appeared in public places. some- seeks them, now that i am almost ashamed to times a head turned—not often enough to offer them. she began after some months to make me so accustomed to the tribute that i get illustrations for small magazines, and she did not take notice. but in my own set, i made a good deal of money. she said, frankly, was in view; almost arrivé. i had entered the that she didn't care for the art of the thing, so promising class. two of my landscapes had long as she could feel that she was satisfving been well hung on the wall of the society of her editors. in hours when i wasn't pon- american artists. one of these had pre- dering over my own ideas, i helped her with viously received a médaille at the salon; the the illustrations; they were surprisingly good, newspapers gave a good deal of attention to it, to begin with. illustration, however, was and a well-known amateur of pictures bought hardly my metier, and gradually i ceased to it. he paid well for it, and i felt that i could concern myself with my wife's work. at first afford to spend time in inviting my soul and in i didn't care to have her going about to visit expressing it in a great work-something that the offices of art editors, but presently, when should make me immortal. i had ideas—i i found that she always came back with rosy must resist the temptation of exposing them cheeks and a fresh bit of gossip, i grew here. i have thought them over a great deal, to tolerate her enterprises. when we both and i have spent some years in perfecting broke down in health, it was a surprise to me them. they may bear fruit in the future. to find that she had a bank-account sufficient but while i was working them out, i began, in to send us to italy for a year. off moments, to give hints to my wife. at the i had never been in italy—she had. the risk of disclosing my identity, i shall have to galleries and churches were new to me, and explain that she was one of my students in a while i was wandering about them and as- life class; our marriage made a noise in our sembling new modifications of my ideas from small world, and stories about it are still the florentine school, she found some models afloat. that i should marry one of my pupils and amused herself with painting them. i was a great honor for her. she felt it-she let her go on, pleased that she was entertain- still feels it. she has always preserved a pro- ing herself; but one day she asked timidly if i per enthusiasm for my theories. she wants would criticize a little beggar girl that she had me to do great works; she thinks that i can, done-and i couldn't have done her so well and so do i. but so far as the practical gain- myself. it wasn't in my style, but it was ing of bread and butter by painting is con- good. it was so good that i began to pay cerned-yes, and more than that—i have per- careful attention to my wife's work. when we force to confess that she has eclipsed me. came back to new york, i found that i had to that i am not jealous of her fame is evident pay still more careful attention to it. our -otherwise i shouldn't be writing this. health had come back. but my ideas had she began by doing advertisements. there become confused with the multitude of new wasn't a financial need of it. with the cache impressions that i had taken in from a new that we had received for my picture, and country which had been a haunt of child- what pot-boilers i could do, we had enough to hood with her; being quite familiar, it hadn't keep us contented; but she liked to win her disturbed her. i couldn't paint-to please own pin-money, and as long as she didn't let myself. but she went right on. she got por- the household go wrong, i had no objections traits to do. i helped her with them. i still to offer. on the contrary, i helped her with help her with them-but i couldn't do them. the husband of a celebrity she is, in her own style, bevond me. she bring in, though, is mighty little in compari- went forth among her friends and got por- son. she knows nothing of it; i keep my traits to do, and presently orders for portraits little bank-account secret; she wouldn't ap- began to come to her. i sent some of them prove of my doing pot-boilers. to the society—and three of them were ac- the very fact that i say that she wouldn't cepted and well placed-and my own land approve of it shows the reversal of our atti- scape, on which i had worked for a year, tudes. it has come about gradually and in- came back to me. i am not growling. i sensibly—through no desire of hers; she is not have had a landscape exhibited since then in a hen-pecker, by nature. it has come partly the society-hung not far from three por- through my own growing respect for her traits by my wife. my particular personality work. it is not my kind of work; not so per- in art doesn't please the committee. it does sonal; not, i think, and so does she, so original please my friends, and they comfort me as as mine; in short, not on so great a scale. but best they can. but i notice that whenever i it has grown so fast that i don't know where meet one of them he greets me with, “how she may arrive. my own style, i repeat, is are you, jones; how's your wife?" among personal. if i ever fill a niche in the temple artists who are not of my movement, it is, of art, it will be a niche of my own-unless “how are you, jones? you aren't badly public opinion comes around to my point of hung, old chap. i congratulate you. i say! view, as it has to whistler's. but her style is mrs. jones doing pretty good work, isn't she?" obvious. she paints as others have painted- i don't mind that; i can make allowances according to the old traditions, which every for the cattishness of minor artists. but when one knows and understands, and buys; and i confront at a reception-i go to them some- she does it better and better. i should have times, because a painter is supposed to de- been glad to produce in half a year any one of rive benefit from meeting people—when the portraits that she knocks off with such i confront an empty-headed girl, six feet amazing rapidity. and my new realization of tall, whose golf chums have deserted her, and her increasing greatness has quietly changed who tries to be polite to me with, “mr. jones, all our relations. for example, nowadays, i are you related to the mrs. jones who paints do not like to make the growl that used to be portraits?”—then i go home and think. the inalienable right of a husband, if i don't there is no jealousy in my thoughts—there find fresh underclothing, mornings. her was no malice in the golf girl. she was simple mood mustn't be disturbed; a clear mind on enough; she was trying in the hurry of her life, her part is of economic importance to us. which is so much faster than mine, to be this brings me to the great point of polite. often, she adds, “the bright mrs. change. our whole life has to be adjusted jones, you know," before i can manage to ex- to meet her engagements. she hasn't time to plain that i am mr. sarah jones. keep house; we live at an apartment hotel- it has come to that; i am mr. sarah jones. when we are at home at all. we are in other even financially, i am the husband of my wife. homes a great deal. my wife's portraits lead we have changed places. it is she that makes us far and wide over the country. her cult is the money for the firm. i haven't sold a among the rich and great, and there is a theory picture for three years-not a real picture; but that she ought to study her subjects in their -oh, well, any painter will understand the own homes, in order to catch their character- bitterness of it-i have, under the rose, done istic moods. she is invited, therefore, to some advertisements lately. it isn't that there visit for indefinite periods of time, often run- is any need of money. she has orders, now, ning up to six or seven weeks, in great houses. that will keep us going for a year or so to i go, too, because we do not like to be sepa- come; she has a waiting-list. but i am in rated, and she has taken from the outset of “ who's who' and she isn't, yet-her rise has her career the stand that even for purposes of been too rapid-and just as a matter of pride, business she cannot accept invitations that i feel bound to try for my own pin-money. do not include me. it's our way in america. sometimes i think but in spite of her loyalty, we are grow- that it's a false way. they understand ing apart. she explains to every one that across the water that a wife may nourish her i am a genius, and every one treats me pet husband. but i can't part from my na- with courtesy-too much courtesy. because tional traditions--that a man must do some of her enthusiasm i have even sold one or thing every day to bring in wages. what i two pictures to patrons who didn't under- everybody's magazine stand them, and who, i fancy, after we went for there is some dinner on every night. away hung them in the cellar. my wife's when we are visiting sally's patrons, we patrons are polite to me, but they do not talk late at night, in our rooms. we gossip seek me out for talk, after a day or two. over the events of the day. i think that they are mainly interested either in society we look forward to these talks as the great or in affairs, or in both, and i don't know pleasures of our lives. certainly i do, and much about those things. i can talk about she says that she does, and i believe her. she pictures, and a little about fiction and music; has native wit, and i have acquired from her i suppose that the tongues of all painters a certain facility in epigram, which i venture waggle freely on these subjects. but i am to use, however, only with timidity, except to not concerned about the price of stocks— her. but our bedtime confabs are divert- even of the stocks in which our money is ing to both of us; and we turn in, proud of invested—nor about the good points of a ourselves because we have turned out such horse, or a gasoline engine. moreover, i interesting phrases. i am revealing this hate bridge, and all other games of cards. because i wish to insist upon the perfect the consequence is that my hosts do the best understanding that exists between me and the they can with me, after they take my meas- celebrity that owns me; an understanding ure. with my hostesses, i get on a few days that has helped to keep up my self-respect. more, and there is usually a voung girl or two but the fact remains that we haven't that who adopts my wife's view that i am a genius, intimacy of life which was ours in the first and adores me. they insist on coming out six years of our marriage, when she used to with me mornings in the country, when we are come into the studio, after she had done her in the midst of house parties and i am sketch marketing, and draw or sew in silence, or ing our host's plantations of decorative trees- when we took our kits out into the woods and faute de mieux—but i don't care much for sketched together, all day. we had our life young girls. our main point of sympathy is together then. nowadays, i have my hour that they adore my wife, too, as every one with her. in new york we have separate does. she has always been more facile in talk studios. i saw that her sitters didn't care to than i; by facile, i don't mean merely me- have me around, and, besides, i believe, there chanical; she isn't a person of small-talk, ex- was some idea that two artists working in cept incidentally; she has ideas; i have seen one room suggested an economy that didn't her surprise statesmen with them, and even please the class of picture-buyers whose taste captains of industry. she is not concentrated my wife satisfies. i say that i believe it; as a on one purpose, as i am. the consequence matter of fact i know it, for i overheard some is that her patrons have become her friends; advice given to her by a hard little climber, she is a personage; to be painted by her has as metallic as the steel that her husband's become a kind of cachet of nobility. to me father used to manufacture. sally will paint they are merely acquaintances, and many of any one who can give her price. she takes then i don't meet at all. out her extra pay for the patronizing airs of when we are in new york, she is not often some of her clients by painting them as they at home for luncheon. commonly she has are. some of them don't know it, and the some engagement having to do with a por- others don't dare to complain—i'm using trait or perhaps an investment-for a year, sally's phrase. this climber woman prof- now, our money has been invested according fered her counsel one morning just as i was to the advice of her friends, and we are pros- coming in from the palisades; there is a perous. i could go with her to those lunch screen to shut off drafts from the door. eons at sherry's or the martin, but i don't “i'm so glad to have found you alone to- want to. i prefer to come from the studio to dav,” said the sitter, from the other side of the have an hour or two with the kiddie and his screen. “will you mind if i tell you that grandmother. there is no unpleasant insinu- when one's posing mornings in an evening ation in this. my wife is not neglecting the frock, one doesn't care to be seen by a man, kiddie; she has her hour with him at the end even if he's only—” yes, she went as far as of his day, and she has never once missed it. that, but she caught herself up; i dare say she has her hours with me, too; long hours at that sally glared at her; she bristles up in the end of our days-in new york they come defense of me like a hen with a chicken. after dinner parties given either at some house “don't misunderstand, my dear mrs. jones," or, if we are entertaining, in a restaurant. she went on. “you see, our husbands are the husband of a celebrity pum all down-town; it's the fashion in america for plete without her. i even knew about her men to be occupied, and we don't see them myself, and had some curiosity as to her in the mornings, except foreigners. of fascination. our visit to her house-our course, artists are different. but we aren't newspapers call it a palace, but it isn't, accustomed to appear in sunlight with bare judged by european standards of palaces; necks before men. and, besides—you won't it is just a comfortable house-happened to be offended—it looks so mean for two artists fall in the midst of a large party. we to have the same studio. you must be were eighteen or twenty or so at dinner, making enough to keep a place to yourself. and a mob of celebrated persons came after- it would do you good—i hope you don't mind. ward; there was some question on of an i'm telling you this for your own sake—" i exposition. it included a picture gallery, don't know what was said afterward, for i and i knew that my wife would be mad to slipped out. sally did not tell me about this have me represented and would be pulling talk, and i didn't tell her that i had over- wires. i can't pull wires; with her, it is ap- heard. but after a couple of weeks i decided parently a joyous part of the game. she to have a hut to myself in the country. on flirts outrageously with foolish old men who the whole, i dare say the separation is best know what they like in pictures, and so have for the work of both of us. i work harder been chosen on committees to select can- myself when i am separated from sally, and vases for presentation before the public. i develop my own ideas farther—when i am when she is doing that, i don't interfere; she with her i find myself unknowingly influenced doesn't like to have me around; i can't re- by her stronger personality. as for her, she strain myself from what i suppose is dog- is freer to concentrate her forces without me- matism about paint, and i make enemies. she made no objection to my proposition of on this occasion i sought my usual refuge separate workwoms; she even welcomed it from chatter—the smoking-room. if i could for my sake. she understood that it would write, i should make an essay about smoking- be better for me to have my plant of paints rooms; i've seen a good many. when they and canvas, etc., out among the trees and are infested with golf, or football, or tennis, i rivers that i have chosen to represent. her sit in my corner, and puff. this time there own studio is hung with my pictures-hers were no college students, nor were there any are too precious to stay there. we can't middle-aged raconteurs of impossibilities. afford to have them, even if others hadn't the meeting outside was a serious matter, paid retainers for them in advance. and the guests were particularly invited to her portrait of the little climber woman be interested in it, and most of them didn't was a sinful piece of vindictiveness. but i dare not to be. nevertheless, there drifted have a soft spot in my heart for the climber into the realm of whisky and cigars four or woman. she aroused me to look about at five men. i knew some of them. one was, husbands, and my observation has in the ļn a way, a painter; he had given up painting long run given me some consolation. i had for illustration, and he wrote articles to set begun to believe that i was unique in america off his work. another i knew as a news- -the only man who slunk along under the paper man. presently our host, a whole- shadow of his wife. but before i had my some man, paused at the door and burst out own shop out on the palisades in good run- into a haw-haw. ning order, our ménage-except the kiddie, “i thought so," he said. “here we are, all who stays with his grandmother—was trans- together, the husbands!” ferred to a very great house indeed, in another i don't know how i took it. in my city. it was our hostess that my wife was curiosity as to how the others would take it, summoned to paint. she is a world-figure. i relapsed out of the self-consciousness that she has been called the best hostess in amer- has been fast enveloping me of late, into the ica; she has entertained the most exalted per- mood of alert observation that used to be sonages, here and abroad-even royalty itself, mine when i was my own man, with a wife to in those realms where rulers dine with any support. i fancy that i didn't even blush. but their subjects and visiting sovereigns. the painter-man did, though, and fung she has been the representative of ameri- away his cigar. the journalist turned can women wherever american womanhood haughtily from his prints, with a “good needed to be officially represented. no evening, mr. rathborn.” i have since found world's congress, nor world's fair, is com- out that he lives in an atmosphere of combat; everybody's magazine he interviews his wife's managers, and makes into a creature-comfortable condition, such her contracts, and states her grievances. our as, according to the traditions of chivalry, host didn't notice him; he was joining up- women used to be supposed to hold. at all roariously in the bursts of laughter that his events, there are not many of them. but of witticism caused at the whisky table. no men like our host and his companions, there galled jades winced there. and yet, in the are, i find comfort in observing, a vast course of the evening, i found out that the number. apparently, for example, one of wife of one of the men sitting there was a them exists in every town in this country famous wit and leader of society, never out of where there is a woman's club. he is a the newspapers, the adoration of every one minor butcher or grocer, and he appears in who knows her, and the scandal of every one the public prints—the arbiters of distinction who doesn't, and that the other was the hus- -only in the advertising pages; but his wife's band of the president of a national organiza- election to the secretaryship of the women's tion of women. both of them must have club, or as a delegate to the national con- been called mr.—whatever their wives' vention of women's clubs, is proclaimed in christian names are—for years, but they the society column, which is read with respect tolerated that, even with amusement. they by his townspeople. her receptions, too, had their own resources, in wall street, command attention in the local record of where they are respected, just as i am re- public events. i believe it to be a very good spected by a few persons who know about arrangement; it cements the marriage tie. if paint. it so happened that a man presently my new observation of what some one has brought in sandwiches. he tripped against called the “submerged” husband isn't awry, the leg of the table, and spilled every one's he is increasingly kind and attentive to his whisky-by this time we were gathered wife, as he sees that other persons value her together. after he had gone out for cloths more highly. and it is kindness and atten- to wipe up the mess, our host's shoulders tion that keep wives devoted to their husbands. came down from the level of his ears. the "misunderstood” woman, who is look- "i can't let him go,” he apologized. ing out for an “affinity,” is she whose husband “he's one of us. his wife's my wife's maid, treats her as though she were a nonentity- and she's too perfect to lose.” am i not right? take the wife of the butcher that was a precious evening to me; it or the grocer who gets him into the higher took me out of myself, revealed to me that society of his town, if you wish to be cynical, others are overshadowed by their wives and or who makes his shop the vogue, and thereby are not ashamed-and incidentally that those holds him a little in awe of her. in return who are ashamed do not have that self- for this respect and attention, she gives him control that we are accustomed to expect of a certain quality of wifely affection that is a man in his relations with his fellow men always half motherly, and that insures a -in short, good breeding. the journalist happy home for him. mrs. jellyby may and the painter were unmistakably ill at exist among us, but she doesn't pervade ease; the stock-brokers hadn't a thought of us. being ill at ease. they had their interests for a time, i thought that to our new apart; they left what they are comfortably nineteenth-century emancipation of woman ready to acknowledge as the “higher" realms was due the submergence of husbands, and of art, literature, music, and polite con- it may be that the wife has never been so versation, to their wives, the superior beings. dominant as she is to-day. but i have found they were even proud of their wives, being some small consolation in the reflection that at the same time content to wallow-as they from time to time, throughout the ages, hus- easily put it-in stocks and politics. but my bands have had to play the moon. at least, aesthetic friends hadn't the consolation of a they treat us better than they did in the days life by themselves; they had been outstripped of the egyptians, when hatshepsu wore the in their own higher realm by beings that were clothes of a man and sported false whiskers, undoubtedly superior, but incongruously and cleopatra killed off her spouse. nowa- female; and they didn't like it. i dare say days they cherish us. and particularly in that the men of affairs whose wives are america, where there is still so much to presidents of banks, or perhaps deal in south be done in the “development of our re- american franchises, don't like it either- sources,” we may well stand upon our own unless, indeed, they are content to relapse muddy feet, and let them spread their wings. the white bell-mare i am presuming to speak for those of us who are standing upon economic feet. for the others, like myself, who are trying to soar- well, i can only speak for myself. i am happy. i am free to do my own work—to develop my own ideas-by grace of my wife. i am not jealous of her success. but i shall be glad, when the time shall come the time when the world shall see that i paint land- scapes right, and she will be glad, too. the white bell-mare by edith m. thomas (suggested by a picture by frederic remington.) a cross the plains i see them sweep, against the ebbing light. the pace they keep they still will keep at silent noon of night: a fleet foot rules the caravan, and sets the pace for beast and man! the bell-mare takes the dusty road, no rowel pricks her side; she knows no rein, she owns no goad, save in her mettled pride. the steeds that follow need no scourge, so well they feel her vanward urge! for her is neither lash nor check, she keeps the pace she will! a single bell about her neck sounds sweet, when all is still- when all is still, and night is deep; and they that ride, ride half asleep! she sets the pace—that leader fleet; the rest—they but pursue. ... they have their fate from her swift feet, yet fate o'errules her, too; for 'tis the pace—the pace—the pace controls her fleet and snowy grace! they vanish on the glimmering plain, beneath the western verge. ... and all our life is like that train, that heeds a vanward urge: we deem we travel as we will--- but 'tis the pace controls us still! at daybreak by charles buxton going s the faint dawn crept upward, gray and dim, a he saw her move across the past to him- her eyes as they had looked in long-gone years, tender with love, and soft with thoughts of tears. her hands, outstretched as if in wonderment, nestled in his, and rested there, content. “sweetheart,” he whispered, “what glad dream is this? i feel your clasp—your long-remembered kiss “touches my lips; i hold your tender form close in my arms again-yea, close and warm “as in the days when first you used to creep into my heart; and yet, this is not sleep- “is it some vision, that with night will flv?" “nay, dear,” she answered; “it is really ." “yea, little sweetheart, it is you, i know! but it is strange the dead can meet us so, “bodied as we are; see, how like we stand!" “yea,” she replied, “in form, and face, and hand.” silent awhile he held her to his breast, as if afraid to try the further test- then, speaking quickly: “must you go away?” “nay, dear,” she murmured; “neither night nor day!”. close on her bosom then she drew his head, trembling: “i do not understand!” he said. "i thought the spirit world was far apart. ..." “nay!” she replied; “it is not, now, dear heart! “quick! let me close your eyes with kisses . . . so... cling to me, dear! 'tis but a step to go!” the white-faced watchers rose, beside his bed: “shut out the day," they signed; “our friend is dead!” ** ss folna the fifth wheel by . henry author of "the four million," "the trimmed lamp," etc. illustrations by james preston the ranks of the bed line moved closer i together; for it was cold, cold. they were alluvial deposit of the stream of life lodged in the delta of fifth avenue and broadway. the bed liners stamped their freezing feet, looked at the empty benches in madison square whence jack frost had evicted them, and muttered to one another in a confusion of tongues. the flatiron building, with its impious, cloud-piercing architecture looming mistily above them on the opposite delta, might well have stood for the tower of babel, whence these polyglot idlers had been called by the winged walking delegate of the lord. standing on a pine box a head higher than his flock of goats, the preacher exhorted whatever transient and shifting audience the north wind doled out to him. it was a slave market. fifteen cents bought you a man. you deeded him to morpheus; and the re- cording angel gave you credit. the preacher was incredibly earnest and unwearied. he had looked over the list of things one may do for one's fellow man, and had assumed for himself the task of putting to bed all who might apply at his soap box on the nights of wednesday and sunday. that left but five nights for other philan- thropists to handle; and had they done their part as well, this wicked city might have be- come a vast arcadian dormitory where all might snooze and snore the happy hours away, letting problem plays and the rent man and business go to the deuce. the hour of eight was but a little while past; sightseers in a small, dark mass of pay ore were gathered in the shadow of general worth's monument. now and then, shyly, os- tentatiously, carelessly, or with conscientious exactness one would step forward and bestow upon the preacher small bills or silver. then a lieutenant of scandinavian coloring and enthusiasm would march away to a lodg- ing-house with a squad of the redeemed. all the while the preacher exhorted the crowd in terms beautifully devoid of eloquence- splendid with the deadly, accusive monotony of truth. before the picture of the bed liners fades you must hear one phrase of the preach- er's—the one that formed his theme that night. it is worthy of being stenciled on all the white ribbons in the world. “no man ever learned to be a drunkard on five-cent whisky.” think of it, tippler. it covers the ground from the sprouting rye to the potter's field. a clean-profiled, erect young man in the rear rank of the bedless emulated the terra- pin, drawing his head far down into the shell at daybreak by charles buxton going as the faint dawn crept upward, gray and dim, a he saw her move across the past to him- eves as they had looked in long-gone years, tender with love, and soft with thoughts of tears. her hands, outstretched as if in wonderment. nestled in his, and rested there, content. "sweetheart,” he whispered, “what glad dream is i feel your clasp—your long-remembered kiss touches my lips; i hold your tender form close in my arms again-yea, close and warm as in the days when first you used to creep into my heart; and yet, this is not sleep- a nd look me to be at "is it some vision, that with night will fly?" "nay, dear,” she answered; “it is really i." i to welcome yea. little sweetheart, it is you. i know! but it is strange the dead can meet us so, t exactly a case that cupid is a - bodied as we are; see, how like we stand! isely, according to “yea,” she replied, “in form, and face, and ving relatives. i've aar because i don't silent awhile he held her to his breast. i i've been sick in as if afraid to try the further test- spitals four months. then. speaking quickly: “must you go aw go back to her mother. “nay, dear,” she murmured; "neither nigh se hospital yesterday. that's my tale of close on her bosom then she drew his he trembling: “i do not understand!” he sa thomas. "a man "i thought the spirit world was far apara ich all right. but i hate “nay!” she replied; "it is not, now, de od kids get the worst of “quick! let me close your eyes with ki summed up fifth avenue cling to me, dear! 'tis but a step to endid, so red, so smoothly y demolishing the speed the white-faced watchers rose, beside i drew the attention even of “shut out the day,” they signed; liners. suspended and was an extra tire. ortunate company ame loosed. it rolled rapidly an opportu- the preach- the fifth wheel 't chaldean (hiroscope has availed. could it i be possible?" die car. on then he addressed less mysterious words le were shout- to the waiting and hopeful thomas. mes at the red "sir, i thank you for your kind rescue of rprising thomas my tire. and i would ask you, if i hav, a question. do you know the tamils of ad estimated, was van smurthes living in washington square grand an auto- north?" m. said the professorer d e o hrt its pesliert thema. i ald offer for the service te bard and save his pride. is way the car led stoppest little, brown, multed chaitent and an imposing gentleman wearing ent sealskin coet and sillt hat in the frek neri rentleman ceter d the cit o r pen pp t profiered the cadencer tre rrite -coachman manner and lighter of his redderet eres tras te t te to be suggestive to the entene pa - the p ritp - fol dominations. at the look tras o construer tt linned gentleman terapi liced it inside the car, et intern coachman, and materet o pbb annble words. ' l mote it when ip hely paper para te a set casinon - td wice even isselt rare ancient o est everybody's magazine of his coat collar. it was a well-cut tweed coat; and the trousers still showed signs of having flattened themselves beneath the com- pelling goose. but, conscientiously, i must warn the milliner's apprentice who reads this, expecting a reginald montressor in straits, to peruse no further. the young man was no other than thomas mcquade, ex-coach- man, discharged for drunkenness one month before, and now reduced to the grimy ranks of the one-night bed seekers. if you live in smaller new york you must know the van smuythe family carriage, drawn by the two , -pound, ioo to i-shot bays. the carriage is shaped like a bath-tub. in each end of it reclines an old lady van smuythe holding a black sunshade the size of a new-year's eve feather tickler. before his downfall thomas mcquade drove the van smuythe bays and was himself driven by annie, the van smuythe lady's maid. but it is one of the saddest things about ro- mance that a tight shoe or an empty com- missary or an aching tooth will make a tem- porary heretic of any cupid-worshiper. and thomas's physical troubles were not few. therefore, his soul was less vexed with thoughts of his lost lady's maid than it was by the fancied presence of certain non-exist- ent things that his racked nerves almost convinced him were flying, dancing, crawl- ing, and wriggling on the asphalt and in the air above and around the dismal campus of the bed line army. nearly four weeks of straight whisky and a diet limited to crackers, bologna, and pickles often guarantees a psy- cho-zoological sequel. thus desperate, freez- ing, angry, beset by phantoms as he was, he felt the need of human sympathy and intercourse. the bed liner standing at his right was a young man of about his own age, shabby but neat. “what's the diagnosis of your case, fred- dy?” asked thomas, with the freemasonic familiarity of the damned—“booze? that's mine. you don't look like a panhandler. neither am i. a month ago i was pushing the lines over the backs of the finest team of percheron buffaloes that ever made their mile down fifth avenue in . . and look at me now! say; how do you come to be at this bed bargain-counter rummage sale?” the other young man seemed to welcome the advances of the airy ex-coachman. "no," said he, "mine isn't exactly a case of drink. unless we allow that. cupid is a bartender. i married unwisely, according to the opinion of my unforgiving relatives. i've been out of work for a year because i don't know how to work; and i've been sick in bellevue and other hospitals four months. my wife and kid had to go back to her mother. i was turned out of the hospital yesterday. and i haven't a cent. that's my tale of woe.” “tough luck," said thomas. “a man alone can pull through all right. but i hate to see the women and kids get the worst of it.” just then there hummed up fifth avenue a motor car so splendid, so red, so smoothly running, so craftily demolishing the speed regulations that it drew the attention even of the listless bed liners. suspended and pinioned on its left side was an extra tire. when opposite the unfortunate company the fastenings of this tire became loosed. it fell to the asphalt, bounded and rolled rapidly in the wake of the flying car. thomas mcquade, scenting an opportu- nity, darted from his place among the preach- rolan b'gee!" muttered thomas, " this listens like a spook shop." the fifth wheel er's goats. in thirty seconds he had caught chaldean chiroscope has availed. gould it the rolling tire swung it over his shoulder, be possible?” and was trotting smartly after the car. on t hen he addressed less mysterious words both sides of the avenue people were shout- to the waiting and hopeful thomas. ing whistling, and waving canes at the red “sir, i thank you for your kind rescue of car, pointing to the enterprising thomas my tire. and i would ask you, if i may, coming up with the lost tire. a question. do you know the family of one dollar, thomas had estimated, was van smuythes living in washington square the smallest guerdon that so grand an auto- north?” "madam," said the professor, "we have discovered the true psychic route." mobilist could offer for the service he had “oughtn't i to?" replied thomas. “i rendered, and save his pride. lived there. wish i did yet.” two blocks away the car had stopped. the sealskinned gentleman opened a door there was a little, brown, muffled chauffeur of the car. driving and an imposing gentleman wearing “step in, please," he said. “you have a magnificent sealskin coat and a silk hat on been expected." a rear seat. thomas mequade obeyed with surprise thomas proffered the captured tire with but without hesitation. a seat in a motor his best ex-coachman manner and a look in car seemed better than standing room in the the brighter of his reddened eves that was bed line. but after the lap-robe had been meant to be suggestive to the extent of a sil- tucked about him and the auto had sped on ver coin or two and receptive up to higher its course, the peculiarity of the invitation denominations. lingered in his mind. but the look was not so construed. the “maybe the guy hasn't got any change,” sealskinned gentleman received the tire, was his diagnosis. “lots of these swell placed it inside the car, gazed intently at the rounders don't lug about any ready money. ex-coachman, and muttered to himself in- guess he'll dump me out when he gets to scrutable words. some joint where he can get cash on his mug. “strange-strange!” said he. “once or anyhow, it's a cinch that i've got that open- twice even i, myself, have fancied that the air bed convention beat to a finish." everybody's magazine guy." submerged in his greatcoat, the mysteri- about. · wonder what became of the furry ous automobilist seemed, himself, to marvel at the surprises of life. “wonderful! amaz suddenly a stuffed owl that stood on an ing! strange!” he repeated to himself con- ebony perch near the illuminated globe slowly stantly. raised his wings and emitted from his eyes when the car had well entered the cross- a brilliant electric glow. town seventies it swung eastward a half block with a fright-born imprecation, thomas and stopped before a row of high-stooped seized a bronze statuette of hebe from a cab- brownstone-front houses. inet near by and hurled it with all his might “be kind enough to enter my house with at the terrifying and impossible fowl. the me," said the sealskinned gentleman when owl and his perch went over with a crash. they had alighted. “he's going to dig up, with the sound there was a click, and the sure,” reflected thomas, following him in room was flooded with light from a dozen side. frosted globes along the walls and ceiling. there was a dim light in the hall. his the gold portières parted and closed, and host conducted him through a door to the the mysterious automobilist entered the left, closing it after him and leaving them in room. he was tall and wore evening dress absolute darkness. suddenly a luminous of perfect cut and accurate taste. a van- globe, strangely decorated, shone faintly in dyke beard of glossy, golden brown, rather the center of an immense room that seemed long and wavy hair, smoothly parted, and to thomas more splendidly appointed than large, magnetic, orientally occult eyes gave any he had ever seen him a most impres- on the stage or read of sive and striking ap- · in fairy stories. pearance. if you can the walls were hid- conceive a russian den by gorgeous red grand duke in a hangings embroidered rajah's throne - room with fantastic gold fig- advancing to greet a ures. at the rear end visiting emperor, you of the room were will gather something draped portières of dull of the majesty of his gold spangled with sil- manner. but thomas ver crescents and stars. mcquade was too near the furniture was of his d t's to be mind- the costliest and rarest ful of his p's and q's. styles. the ex-coach- when he viewed this man's feet sank into silken, polished, and rugs as fleecy and deep somewhat terrifying as snowdrifts. there host he thought vague- were three or four ly of dentists. oddly shaped stands “say, doc," said he or tables covered resentfully, “that's a with black velvet dra- hot bird you keep on pery. tap. i hope i didn't : thomas mcquade break anything. but took in the splendors i've nearly got the wil- of this palatial apart- liwalloos, and when ment with one eye. he threw them - with the other he candle-power lamps of looked for his impos- his on me, i took a ing conductor—to find snap-shot at him with that he had disap reduced to the grimy ranks of the one that little brass flat- peared. night bed seekers. iron girl that stood on “b'gee!” muttered the sideboard.” thomas, “this listens like a spook shop. “that is merely a mechanical toy,” said shouldn't wonder if it ain't one of these the gentleman with a wave of his hand. moravian nights' adventures that you read “may i ask you to be seated while i explain : the fifth wheel why i brought you to cuits and a glass of my house. perhaps miraculous wine; and you would not under- thomas felt the glam- stand nor be in sym- our of arabia envelop pathy with the psy- him. thus half an chological prompting hour sped quickly; that caused me to do and then the honk of so. so i will come to the returned motor car the point at once by at the door suddenly venturing to refer to drew the grand duke your admission that to his feet, with an- you know the van other soft petition for smuythe family, of a brief absence. washington square two women, well north.” muffled against the “any silver miss- cold, were admitted at ing?" asked thomas the front door and tartly. “any joolry suavely conducted by displaced? of course the master of the house i know 'em. any of down the hall through the old ladies' sun- another door to the shades disappeared ? left and into a smaller well, i know 'em. room, which was and then what?" screened and segre- the grand duke gated from the larger rubbed his white front room by heavy hands together softly. double portières. here “wonderful!” he the furnishings were murmured. “wonder- even more elegant and ful! shall i come to exquisitely tasteful believe in the chal- than in the other. on dean chiroscope my- a gold-inlaid rosewood self? let me assure the busiester table were scattered you,” he continued, a sturdy girl with wind-tossed drapery. sheets of white paper "that there is nothing and a queer, triangu- for you to fear. instead, i think i can lar instrument or toy, apparently of gold, promise you that very good fortune awaits standing on little wheels. you. we will see." the taller woman threw back her black “do they want me back?" asked thomas, veil and loosened her cloak. she was fifty, with something of his old professional pride with a wrinkled and sad face. the other, in his voice. “i'll promise to cut out the young and plump, took a chair a little dis- booze and do the right thing if they'll try me tance away and to the rear as a servant or an again. but how did you get wise, doc? attendant might have done. b’gee, it's the swellest employment agency “you sent for me, professor cherubusco," i was ever in, with its flashlight owls and so said the elder woman, wearily. “i hope you forth.” have something more definite than usual to with an indulgent smile the gracious host say. i've about lost the little faith i had in begged to be excused for two minutes. he your art. i would not have responded to went out to the sidewalk and gave an order your call this evening if my sister had not to the chauffeur, who still waited with the insisted upon it.” car. returning to the mysterious apartment, “madam,” said the professor, with his he sat by his guest and began to entertain princeliest smile, “the true art cannot fail. him so well by his witty and genial converse to find the true psychic and potential branch that the poor bed liner almost forgot the sometimes requires time. we have not suc- cold streets from which he had been so re- ceeded, i admit, with the cards, the crystal, cently and so singularly rescued. a servant the stars, the magic formula of zarazin, nor brought some tender cold fowl and tea bis- the oracle of po. but we have at last dis- everybody's magazine covered the true psychic route. the chal- “may i ask what your name is?” he said dean chiroscope has been successful in our shortly. search.” “you've been looking for me," said the professor's voice had a ring that thomas, “and don't know my name? seemed to proclaim his belief in his own you're a funny kind of sleuth. you must be words. the elderly lady looked at him with one of the central office gumshoers. i'm a little more interest. thomas mcquade, of course; and i've been “why, there was no sense in those words chauffeur of the van smuythe elephant team that it wrote with my hands on it,” she said. for a year. they fired me a month ago for “what do you mean?” -well, doc, you saw what i did to your old “the words were these," said professor owl. i went broke on booze, and when i cherubusco, rising to his full magnificent saw the tire drop off your whiz wagon i was height: “'by the fifth wheel of the chariot he standing in that squad of hoboes at the shall come.' " worth monument waiting for a free bed. “i haven't seen many chariots,” said the now, what's the prize for the best answer to lady, “but i never saw one with five wheels.” all this?” "progress,” said the professor—"progress to his intense surprise thomas felt him- in science and mechanics has accomplished self lifted by the collar and dragged, without it-though, to be exact, we may speak of it a word of explanation, to the front door. only as an extra tire. progress in occult art this was opened, and he was kicked forcibly has advanced in proportion. madam, i re- down the steps with one heavy, disillusion- peat that the chaldean chiroscope has suc- izing, humiliating impact of the stupendous ceeded. i can not only answer the question arabian's shoe. that you have propounded, but i can pro as soon as the ex-coachman had recovered duce before your eyes the proof thereof." his feet and his wits he hastened as fast as he and now the lady was disturbed both in could eastward toward broadway. her disbelief and in her poise. “crazy guy," was his estimate of the mys- “o professor!” she cried anxiously - terious automobilist. “just wanted to have “when?—where? has he been found? do some fun kiddin', i guess. he might have not keep me in suspense.” dug up a dollar, anyhow. now i've got to “i beg you will excuse me for a very few hurry up and get back to that gang of bum minutes," said professor cherubusco, “and bed hunters before they all get preached to i think i can demonstrate to you the efficacy sleep.” of the true art.” when thomas reached the end of his two- thomas was contentedly munching the mile walk he found the ranks of the homeless last crumbs of the bread and fowl when the reduced to a squad of perhaps eight or ten. enchanter appeared suddenly at his side. he took the proper place of a newcomer at “are you willing to return to your old the left end of the rear rank. in the file in home if you are assured of a welcome and front of him was the young man who had restoration to favor?” he asked, with his spoken to him of hospitals and something courteous, royal smile. of a wife and child. “do i look bug-house?"answered thomas. “sorry to see you back again,” said the “enough of the footback life for me. but young man, turning to speak to him. “i hoped will they have me again? the old lady is you had struck something better than this.” as fixed in her ways as a nut on a new “me?” said thomas. “oh, i just took axle." a run around the block to keep warm! i see “my dear young man,” said the other, the public ain't lending to the lord very fast “she has been searching for you everywhere.” to-night.” “great!” said thomas. “i'm on the job. “in this kind of weather," said the young that team of dropsical dromedaries they call man, “charity avails itself of the proverb, horses is a handicap for a first-class coach- and both begins and ends at home.” man like myself; but i'll take the job back, and now the preacher and his vehement sure, doc. they're good people to be with.” lieutenant struck up a last hymn of petition and now a change came o'er the suave to providence and man. those of the bed countenance of the caliph of bagdad. he liners whose windpipes still registered above looked keenly and suspiciously at the ex- °, hopelessly and tunelessly joined in. coachman. in the middle of the second verse thomas "o mr. walter :- and the missis iiunting high and low for you!" saw a sturdy girl with wind-tossed drapery without any singing and preaching for a battling against the breeze and coming nightcap, either.” straight toward him from the opposite side- “listen, you big fool. the missis sai's walk. “annie!” he yelled, and ran toward her. she'll take you back. i begged her to. but “you fool, you fool!” she cried, weeping you must behave. and you can go up to and laughing, and hanging upon his neck, the house to-night; and your old room over “why did you do it?” the stable is ready." “the stuff,” explained thomas briefly. “great!” said thomas earnestly. “you “you know. but subsequently nit. not a are it, annie. but when did these stunts drop.” he led her to the curb. “how did happen?” you happen to see me?” “to-night at professor cherubusco's. he "i came to find you,” said annie, holding sent his automobile for the missis, and she tight to his sleeve. “oh, you big fool! took me along. i've been there with her professor cherubusco told us that we might before.” find you here.” “what's the professor's line?” “professor ch- don't know the guy. "he's a clearvoyant and a witch. the what saloon does he work in?”. missis consults him. he knows everything. “he's a clearvoyant, thomas; the greatest but he hasn't done the missis any good yet, in the world. he found you with the chal- though she's paid him hundreds of dollars. dean telescope, he said.” but he told us that the stars told him we “he's a liar," said thomas. "i never could find you here." had it. he never saw me have anybody's “what's the old lady want this cherry- telescope.” buster to do?” “and he said you came in a chariot with “that's a family secret,” said annie. five wheels, or something." “and now you've asked enough questions. “annie,” said thomas solicitously, "you're come on home, you big fool.” giving me the wheels now. if i had a chariot they had moved but a little way up the i'd have gone to bed in it long ago. and street when thomas stopped. everybody's magazine “got any dough with you, annie?” he asked. annie looked at him sharply. “oh, i know what that look means," said thomas. “you're wrong. not another drop. but there's a guy that was standing next to me in the bed line over there that's in a bad shape. he's the right kind, and he's got wives or kids or something, and he's on the sick list. no booze. if you could dig up half a dollar for him so he could get a decent bed i'd like it.” annie's fingers began to wiggle in her purse. “sure, i've got money," said she. “lots of it. twelve dollars.” and then she added, with woman's ineradicable suspicion of vicarious benevolence: “bring him here and let me see him first.” thomas went on his mission. the wan bed liner came readily enough. as the two drew near, annie looked up from her purse and screamed: “mr. walter - oh-mr. walter!” “is that you, annie?" said the young man weakly. “o mr. walter!—and the missis hunting high and low for you!” “does mother want to see me?” he asked, with a flush coming out on his pale cheek. “she's been hunting for you high and low. sure, she wants to see you. she wants you to come home. she's tried police and morgues and lawyers and advertising and detectives and rewards and everything. and then she took up clearvoyants. you'll go right home, won't you, mr. walter?” “gladly, if she wants me," said the young man. “three years is a long time. i sup- pose i'll have to walk up, though, unless the street cars are giving free rides. i used to walk and beat that old plug team of bays we used to drive to the carriage. have they got them yet?” “they have,” said thomas, feelingly. “and they'll have 'em ten years from now. the life of the royal elephantibus truck- horseibus is one hundred and forty-nine years. i'm the coachman. just got my re- appointment five minutes ago. let's all ride up in a surface car-that is-er-if annie will pay the fares.” on the broadway car annie handed each one of the prodigals a nickel to pay the conductor. “seems to me you are mighty reckless the way you throw large sums of money around," said thomas sarcastically. “in that purse,” said annie decidedly, “is exactly $ . . i shall take every cent of it to-morrow and give it to professor cher- ubusco, the greatest man in the world.” “well,” said thomas, “i guess he must be a pretty fly guy to pipe off things the way he does. i'm glad his spooks told him where you could find me. if you'll give me his address, some day i'll go up there, myself, and shake his hand.” presently thomas moved tentatively in his seat, and thoughtfully felt an abrasion or two on his knees and elbows. “say, annie,” said he confidentially, “may- be it's one of the last dreams of the booze, but i've a kind of a recollection of rid- ing in an automobile with a swell guy that took me to a house full of eagles and arc lights. he fed me on biscuits and hot air, and then kicked me down the front steps. if it was the d t's, why am i so sore?” “shut up, you fool,” said annie. “if i could find that funny guy's house,” said thomas, in conclusion, "i'd go up there some day and punch his nose for him." within this heart of mine by james e. richardson tithin this heart of mine a garden lies,-a sere and sunless close wherein from year to year no blossom is of lily pale and tall, sweet rose or violet mere; but yet where one like me may grieve an hour, and pray, perhaps, for kinder dav; or in some wakeful tide keep vigil 'twixt the sunset red and dawnlight gray, and dream of years forgotten, and abide. where did you get it, gentlemen? by charles edward russell author of "soldiers of the common good" editor's note.—habitually we think of this as the most prosperous of nations. it has the greatest individual fortune; it has the largest number of great fortunes. here in the lifetime of a generation men have attained to wealth so great that its potentiality is almost incalculable. all this we commonly look upon as part of our prosperity. is it really so ? do these fortunes represent in any way a general welfare ? are they the outgrowth of splendid enterprise honorably managed, of great productive industry, of unprecedented commercial expansion ? or are they born of trickery, of financial piracy, of gambling with marked cards, of the union of greed and dirty politics for the exploitation of public utilities, of vast overcapi- talization at the expense of our national good name and our financial stability? the follow- ing is the first of a series of articles in which mr. russell will relate the origins of some of these fortunes. he will deal with them fairly and impartially, but he will show how thin is the veneer of respectability that covers some vast and illegitimate commercial achievements. chapter i upon another mile after mile in the business region-in all the world where can you find an golden tides about the golden city equal expression of power and energy? and the palaces grouped about the park-how tere, at the gateway of a world, sits the plainly they speak of the ceaseless tide of gold imperial city of new york, and about that sweeps into this unique habitat of men! her and over her is piled such wealth as no, not elsewhere can you find such men have never before dreamed of. wealth; in few places such tremendous how wonderful it all is! daily in this and thought-compelling contrasts. how richest of cities you can see the golden strange to go from upper fifth avenue flood rising and never ebbing. so much and stand before that block in orchard wealth, so much luxury, such a bewilder- street that is the most densely populated ing display, such a concentration of the spot on this earth! the utmost ex- power for which money is only a symbol tremes of attainable magnificence and has not been known in the records of endurable misery seem bent around to the race. no other men have been so touch within this marvelous city. rich as some new york men; so many if the figures and analyses of the so- rich men have not gathered in another ciologists hold true here are , per- place. with pride and awe we count sons that are rich, , that are well- here one man whose wealth is reputed to-do, , , that are poor, , , to be one thousand million dollars, five that are very poor. take, then, these men whose wealth is estimated at more , , of the poor and very poor. than three hundred millions each, ten how comes it that the golden flood men whose wealth is reported to be one misses them? here it runs all about hundred millions each, four thousand them, so deep and wide a current that men whose wealth is computed at one the imperial city wantons in it and million or more each. in face of these wastes it and plays with it. and here stupendous totals the mind staggers and are , , that seem to have little or hardly apprehends the significance of none of it. why so little? or why the figures; but everywhere the eye can none? the fact is apparent enough. see the physical and enduring monu- do but walk through the district east of ments of existing conditions. those the bowery and south of twenty-third strange gigantic structures, massed one street; you shall have evidence convinc- everybody's magazine ing. go into some of the courts and rear tene- economies of the wife, and all they have to- ments in the region, let us say, between the gether, are worth $ , . he has an annual two bridge terminals. the filthy and vilely salary, perhaps $ , , the good man. from over-crowded dwellings, the poisoned air, the that in a city where the cost of living is greater than in any other city of men, he must feed and clothe the family, pay his rent (which shows steadily a tendency to increase), maintain his life insurance, if he be prudent, and lay by for the day when he shall be no longer able to earn. and his rent alone is one-fourth or more of his income. how does life go in that little flat? from where he stands and toils, if he looks up to no more than a ledge of security the distance seems impossible; up to a competence, over- whelming; to wealth, a mere dream. yet men have traversed it; he knows that. by what incomprehensible genius, by what great gifts of mind wholly distinguish- ing them from other men, by what totally differing structure of brain cells have they achieved it? he knows that in his country opportunity must be for all men equal. often he heard it declared to be thus equal when he was a thomas fortune ryan. boy and went to fourth of july meetings in the coun- moldy dampness of ancient and dark passage- try; often he has read the same statement ways, the malarial areas, the ragged crowds, since. so that the trouble with him is in the ill-developed children-you know all these himself. clearly he lacks the mental capacity things well if you have ever strayed into that to be rich. noisome territory. plainly, no golden flood and he finds that this is the opinion of the touches these sodden and unclean shores. world also. he finds that in the opinion of and how is it with the , , of the next mankind the inequality between his state and above stratum, upon whom is laid a need only the state of the , , and the still more ter- less harsh? in thousands of modest flats in rible contrast between the , and the the better regions dwell these families that , , are perfectly explained, perfectly win larger incomes, the families of the em- justified, perfectly established as eternally ployed men, the clerks, the salesmen, the right, reasonable and moral, by this difference regulars and non-commissioned officers in in brain cells. the army of industry. the average wealth m oreover, he learns that there is another among these, we are told, is $ , . how reason. the men that are deepest in the far that bears us from the plashings of the stream are, by common report, further en- golden stream! the furniture in the little dowed than with merely this rare wondrous flat and the savings of the good man and the gift of ability. they have done something. from stereograph. copyright, , by underwood & underwood, new york. where did you get it, gentlemen ? these are the men upon whom rests the foun- dations of prosperity. like an inverted pyramid, the , , the , , and the , , repose upon the things done by the , . thus, by the gift of this ability that so sets them apart and marks them from other men, they have developed the railroads, built the factories, established the commerce, cre- ated the industries of the land. upon these railroads, factories, commerce, industries, de- pend the employment and therefore the lives of the , , that have little ability and of the , , that have none. therefore, on all grounds of the strictest moral principle, the , that are blessed with ability are en- titled to all else they have possessed them- selves of. i am a plain man from the west and i have in the golden imperial city a friend among the , , of the little able, and he takes me forth to view the wonders of the vast human hive about us. we see very many things that instruct my ungifted mind. we tra- verse these miles of gigantic buildings, and i glimpse a little of the incalculable, indomi- table, abnormal force that they represent; and then he takes me to view the region where dwell the , men that control this force. it is all very wonderful. the great white gleaming palaces remind me of the pictures i have seen of stately structures in european capitals. here is a house with a broad driveway sweeping clear to the front door and with no other exit, as if the inmates never walk when they go abroad. under a kind of beautiful canopy, all glass and bronze-like metal, a carriage is waiting, a great shining chariot, with much silver and crystal, very handsome. the driver has a sort of uniform with a dark green coat and very big silver buttons and a high silk hat with something on it and very white trousers that look as if they were made of some kind of white leather, and high boots with yellow tops; and by the carriage door is another man dressed exactly like the driver. we pass another house, very large and commanding, with a little patch of ground about it and a very high steel fence on all sides. we pass other magnificent houses, stone, of an even brown color, very pleasing; enormous houses of a solid and serious archi- tecture. then we come to large and beau- "it seems to me typical of the wealth and greatness of my country." everybody's magazine tiful buildings that are pointed out to me as and the next house is the house of a man the homes of different clubs of successful men; that developed the coal industry. he im- and again to many others, almost or quite as proved and cheapened coal production, he large, that are merely residences. i see innu- made fuel cheaper in the world, he lessened merable automobiles; everybody in this smil- the burden of the ungifted. by his ability, ing and prosperous region seems to have an energy, and foresight he built a great and use- automobile. i am told that many of the resi- ful business; he served society well, and by dents have a dozen automobiles apiece, dif- the rules of the war game this is his reward. ferent styles for different occasions. and the next house is the house of a man there are no cheap nor mean nor repulsive- that developed a great manufacturing enter- looking houses here, nor ill-fed people, but all prise. by his ability, energy, and foresight things betoken comfort and prosperity. the he constructed a system whereby something sidewalks are never crowded, there is plenty should be supplied that all men needed- of air and sunlight, the people are always well shoes, perhaps, or hats. he made these dressed and look gentle and happy. the sun things cheap and plentiful for all mankind, shines and the rows of palaces gleam in the he was of use to society, and this is his re- keen light. across the street is the park and ward. that is beautiful too: the white houses make with pleasure i reflect upon all these an agreeable contrast against all that mass of things: they prove again the greatness of my vivid green. i look at the whole extraordi- country and the triumph of that free oppor- nary spectacle and it seems to me typical of tunity of which we have ever been proud. the wealth and the greatness of my country. true, i cannot see exactly wherein my un- i say to myself that the men that built all gifted friend at my side has much share in these beautiful houses were the gifted gen- this glorious opportunity. true, it appears erals on the commercial battlefield, and their certain that all his life he will struggle du- dwellings are emblematical of their victories, biously for each day's bread and be pursued as of old time men used to win suits of armor by the specters of rent and butchers' bills. in the tourney. true, we have jour- doubtless, i say, in neyed up - town by the first house lives a way of attorney great merchant. by street and columbia his ability, energy, street and avenue b, and foresight he built and while i rejoice a great business, he at the scene now be- brought together pro- fore me, there is a ducer and consumer, memory i could well he established a great spare of scenes lately mart, he supplied a passed, and a traitor- want of society. by ous suggestion that the rules of the war the rewards are dis- game and of our civ- proportionate. but ilization this is his here they are admi- reward. rable and rich, and and the next house that is the true belongs to a man that american way, to developed the rail- give with liberal road service of the hand. indeed, how united states; he typically american it built new lines and all is! these men improved old. by his were the free archi- ability, energy, and tects of their own foresight he made fortunes. doubtless transportation cheap most of them began and easy. he served poor; now they are society well, and bythe rich. this that they rules of the war game have, they earned. this is his reward. thomas f. ryan's residence at fifth avenue. how admirable was the homes of different clubs of successful men. the wisdom of the forefathers that established and the man that lives in the second house here the broad and unrestricted fields that did not help to develop the railroad system, he invite and encourage gifted men! how su- has built no lines nor extended nor improved perior to anything known abroad are these them, though he owns many railroads; he has conditions of opportunity and reward! in no wise facilitated transportation, but only so i think, with a sense of profound grati- made it difficult. tude that i am of this country that secures and the man that lives in the third house these blessings. had nothing to do with developing the coal but am i right? industry. coal mines he owns, many of them, hardly. if i remain long enough in new but he has never dreamed of extending them york and gain instruction in things as they for the general good nor of making them use- really are, i shall learn, perhaps to my dis- ful to society. he has not made coal cheaper may, that not one of the beautiful houses i but dearer; he has not served society, he has have been admiring represents a fortune injured it. gained in any such way as i have fondly and the man that lives in the fourth house supposed. has built no great manufacturing enterprise, the proprietor of the first house was not a he has had nothing to do with any system great merchant: he established no mart, he whereby anything is supplied that men need. brought together no producer and consumer, he owns great manufactories, but their prod- he assisted in no way to supply any demand. uct he has not made cheaper but dearer. he wealth he has in huge superfluity, wealth that has not helped men to supply their needs, but increases upon him until he knows not what only hindered them. to do with it; but not a dollar of it represents then how were these vast fortunes ac- any service done nor any want supplied. quired? by what means were these white cho tiie rows of palaces gleam in the keen light across the street is the park: the white houses make an agreeable contrast against all that mass of vivid green. where did you get it, gentlemen ? palaces secured? what does this wealth rep- but surely, you say, this is very exceptional; resent? how were the ability, energy, and men do not often make money in this way; foresight manifested? in just what way have the loud clamor of denunciation that followed the gifted proved their different molding from this particular revelation showed how very the ungifted? rare such achievements must be. one of the heroes of this field, a mighty rare? i say, not at all; and nothing is general of these battles, one covered with the stranger than that there should have been any glory of innumerable victories, one whose denunciation on this occasion. it reminds gifts are deemed exceptional, whose ability, one of what macaulay said about the british energy, and foresight all men admit, has lately public in one of its periodical spasms of virtue. furnished far better answers to these questions rare, are they? dear reader, some of the than any i can hit upon, and furnished them great, the very great fortunes of new york under oath. he sat one day on the witness city have been the accumulation of genera- stand while a patient inquisitor drew from tions through the gradual increase in the value him, reluctant word by word, the full story of of real estate; some have been inherited. one of these great fortunes in the making, one these may be omitted from the present con- of these white palaces in the building. it ap sideration. aside from these all the stupen- peared, to give but one chapter of his narra dous fortunes quickly acquired have been tive, that with three other men he had secured gained in some such way as this captain of in- control of a certain railroad: that thereupon dustry described on the witness stand; in some they had arbitrarily increased the capitaliza- such way because there is no other way in tion of that railroad from $ , , to which they can be gained. nor, if convention $ , , ; that at be a basis of morals, the price of , which does this way of gain- arbitrarily they had ing them involve re- made, they had sold proach, for we have the added securities much more than con- to themselves; that doned it: we have these securities thus warmly lauded its re- acquired they had sults and agreed that immediately resold to the men that practise the public at go to it are excellent men ; and that from and model citizens, these operations they and doubtless it has had made a net profit been viewed abroad of $ , , . as characteristic of itappeared further our financial opera- that in all these trans- tions. actions these gifted without prejudice men had violated the and merely as illus- laws and the consti- trations of these mat- tution of the state in ters and as examples which the railroad of the methods by was situated; that which ability therein their profits were ut- manifests itself i pur- terly illegal; that the pose here to state additional capitaliza- some of the memora- tion was not needed ble achievements in for any purpose of high finance of that developing, extend- group of gifted men ing, or improving the that formerly cen- railroad; that it had tered around william no significance to the c. whitney, and of property except as an whom the colossus enormous burden and master mind now that for years to come appears in thomas the public must bear. looking down mott street from grand. fortune ryan. everybody's magazine chapter ii congo, in london and san francisco, from the northern limits of civilized canada to and the beginnings of a great fortune beyond mexico, men are employed by him and are subject to his will; he says to them, here is a man whose career has been the do this, and they do it. on the affairs of the romance of success, who has climbed to the nation he exercises a potent and constant in- heights of wealth and fluence. his own at- almost imperial power, torney is secretary of a king of finance, a state; he has his own inarvel of enterprise and men in the senate and commercial wisdom. he the house of repre- began poor, he is very sentatives; he has his rich; he began obscure, own way about panama he is the partner of a canal contracts. he can king and the confidant sway the actions, affect of rulers; he was a servi- the voting, and lead the tor at a pittance, he is thinking of many thou- the employer of millions; sand men. he selects he was an obscure and candidates for partisan nameless molecule in nomination; men of his the human tide, now he choosing sit in high dictates legislation and places in. local and other controls policies, he com- governments. until very mands enormous enter- lately he was a director prises, he is known or trustee in thirty-two about the world, he is to great corporations. he the history of commerce owns life insurance as a famous strategist is companies, banks, trust to the history of war. companies, railroads, surely this is a won- mines, gas companies, derful story. how ad- electric light companies, mirably it shows the traction companies; he possibilities of that free owns the tobacco and unhampered oppor- trust, he owns the tunity of which we have seaboard air line. on just spoken! the poor the chessboard of finance boy starting upon his he makes strange, secret, career with no help but and astounding moves, his own will and his two and wins. nothing im- hands, with no advan- portant can now be done tage but the free field in that game without before him; and do but consulting him. observe the fortune, esti- he lives most quietly mated at hundreds of in a great unpretentious millions of dollars, the house at no. fifth endless range of profit- avenue. in the mad able investments, the rush to shower and huge industries that are splash the golden flood now his! with no ex- he has no interest. his gleaming palaces remind me of picturi:s or travagance we may stately structures in european capitals. tie is business. ne goes life is business. he goes think that scarcely an- to his office early, he re- other man in the commercial world stands mains late; he works in his study at night. a in a position so commanding. his mind tall, erect, powerfully built man, in the best of determines upon a certain line of action, his strength; a very silent man, with no confi- and the next day the poor cigar dealer in dants nor close associates; a secretive man of australia or the cabinet of belgium feels whose plans and intentions nothing is sur- the effects thereof. in kentucky and on the mised until they are recorded in events; a where did you get it, gentlemen ? cool and self-mastered man that never says a do not smile. it is all sober earnest and word in heat nor does an act without consid- part of the record of a sober, earnest life. eration-wall street fears him and puzzles the errand boy labors early and late at $ a over him, but never understands him. he week. presently he becomes a salesman. has a great square jaw and face as relentless then he is taken into partnership. event- as an axe and yet his characteristic policy is to ually he marries the proprietor's daughter. win by indirection. with hands and arms it is the very apotheosis of commercial ro- and skill to wield a broadsword his fancy is mance. for the finest rapier. no man has more cau- meantime, he had been looking far beyond tion; no man will thrust more boldly when baltimore and the dry-goods business. from the time comes, and for skill in extricating the beginning he had made up his mind to himself from a threatened position he has no be, if possible, the richest man of his times. equal in the wall street game. upon that determination the wide, square, he gives with liberal hand to church and bulldog jaws came down like a clamp. it school; his skill, tact, and measureless success was the time of jay gould and erie, of jim are praised of all men. newspapers pave his fisk and the first vanderbilt. the road to way with laudations. his word has bound fortune was a turnpike to wall street. his less weight; with a sentence he stays a panic employer was interested in some banking and and helps to restore confidence. brokerage firm in new york; the young man is not this success indeed ? secured a transfer of his activities from balti- ah, yes; it is a marvelous story. here was more to the golden city of his dreams. there the poor boy facing the world alone, and none we find him in a humble place as clerk or was poorer. the ryans, an old family of nel capper or runner or croupier for some respect- son county, virginia, an old family of the able house in the street, and his energy, tire- indomitable scotch-irish strain, had been ut- less industry, and profound interest in his terly ruined by the civil war. the old work soon win him advancement. no firm estate swamped with debt; the wolf looking in can afford to overlook the worth of a youth at the window; the boy, sixteen or seventeen that does nothing but study and strive in his years old, left alone with his aged grand business. after a time he feels able to make mother; the problem of daily bread real and a start for himself. he becomes a partner uncompromising before them; all this sounds in a firm: lee, ryan & warren. then he like the first chapters of an old-time romance, marries. soon afterward he buys a seat on and yet it is but a recital of biographical the stock exchange. facts. and there is more to come, as if culled then came times bad for gambling-- . deliberately from the roseate fiction of our black friday, the jay cooke smash and the youth. the poor boy, striving to battle with collapse of so many fair firms were only a few the depressing situation, wins his way to the months behind, and before was a long, dreary great city in this instance, baltimore) to season of prostrate business, silent mills, and look for work. from one place after another unemployed hosts. depreciated paper cur- he is turned coldly away. still he persists. rency and inflated credit had done their worst. at last, almost at evening, he enters a dry. under such conditions the public, having bit- goods store. the proprietor needs an errand ter memories and no money to lose, will have boy. he engages young thomas, whose looks none of wall street, and the youthful capper please him, to go to work the next morning at finds but barren pickings. yet young mr. seven o'clock. young thomas takes off his ryan, faring in a small, careful way through cap and hangs it on a peg. he says: those lean years, did well enough. he saw “if you please, sir, i would rather go to his little operations slowly grow and the tilth work now," and seizing a broom begins to thereof was the accumulations that were the sweep out. joy of life to him. certain qualities com- does it not sound like a page from the old mended him to men that sit in the high places fourth reader? about the wall street game. he was intelli- “what are you doing there, little boy?". gent, he understood the market, he moved asked the good banker, looking over the quickly—and he was silent, always; a grave, counter. self-contained, taciturn young man. that was “picking up pins, sir,” said henry. and a great matter; anything once committed to his on the last page he is taken into partnership keeping oxen and wain ropes could not drag and marries the banker's daughter. beyond those iron jaws. gentlemen having everybody's magazine delicate negotiations in finance found that mr. those that having means used wealth to get ryan was a good man to operate through. he more wealth for which they had no need. knew his business and he could be trusted im- so many long-forgotten chapters of history plicitly. he began to win attention and hang about these records! the old new commissions; and after a time he undertook york cable railroad, for instance-how some little things on his own account that many years have passed since we have heard resulted well, both in profits and reputation. a mention of that once menacing specter, or of he used to search out the properties that were charles p. shaw, the eccentric genius that so bad that they must needs be remade or created it and with it scared new york perish, and get in on the upward wave when from its rest? the thing actually had a the remaking began. he won no great sums, charter covering almost every down-town but was steadily getting closer to the leaders street in the city and extending north to that controlled millions and obtaining their yonkers, all to be operated by steam cable. approval as a young man of the right only one other man in new york had looked sort. so far ahead as charles p. shaw into the street one of these leaders was of a mind and railway possibilities and that was mr. whit- character unusual; the rest fade away into the ney. he had been corporation counsel of dull mists of commonplace. in a time that the city from to , and among the has for its distinguishing trait the union of things he had learned while in office was a rotten business with rotten politics, william respect for the urban transportation business. c. whitney was a conspicuously able financial he made up his mind then that he would get exploiter and a conspicuously able political into that business and be rich. shaw and his manipulator. i suppose that without doubt associates were exploiting the proposed cable he had the best mind that ever engaged in road as a rival of the old arcade scheme (of wall street affairs, and without doubt he was which a section was once constructed in lower equipped for better things than he achieved. broadway), when mr. whitney forced his way he had a big doming head, not very broad into the concern. he needed somebody to but long and high, strange blue-gray eyes, assist him in certain lines of endeavor, and for very cold, very steady, and utterly fearless; a such labors chose mr. ryan, whom he made masterful and confident disposition; and a treasurer of the company. knowledge of, and i think contempt for, men, mr. ryan was at that time nearing middle beyond any other man i have known. he life and known among the discerning as one of was at will the most fascinating and polished the shrewdest and safest of the small opera- man of the world or the most overbearing and tors in the street. he had no foolish pride intolerable bully. in his way he had extraor about accepting small orders nor about per- dinary mental capacity; his mind was an un forming duties not usually esteemed a part of resting engine, his ambition was inordinate, the brokerage business, provided the orders or and but for some providential tempering by the duties involved proper recompense and spendthrift and luxurious habits would have the good-will of those that it was well to know. made him monstrously rich. i need not pre furthermore, some advantages lay in his com- tend that he had any overnice scruples about parative obscurity and his silence. he prac- methods. he could see a little farther than tised assiduously the scriptural injunction the grubbing moles about him, and discerning concerning the intercommunication of right an object he moved relentlessly toward it, and left hands, and even at that time no one sometimes trampling heads and sometimes ever knew what he was doing until it was mire and regarding neither. done. hence he went upon any matter un- therein lay for him the talisman of ability, remarked, and his noiseless and unobtrusive the badge that distinguished him from the presence drew none of the newspaper or other , , from the , , , and from the attention that might be undesirable. , , . the divine gift had this sub- for years there had been talk of a street car stance and none other. mr. whitney dwelt line in broadway below union square, but his days among the palaces; he was born to a the wise men of the city (of whom there was sense of superiority; he married wealth; the even in those days no lack )always proved con- burden of life was easy upon him. no one clusively that a street railroad in broadway may say that the goad of poverty drove him to was utterly impossible because of the crowded climb from among the , , or the , ,- traffic. mr. whitney and mr. jake sharp ooo. but he was a conspicuous example of were among those that scorned the argu- where did you get it, gentlemen ? ments of the wise. sharp was a heavy-jowled, after mr. whitney went to washington the heavy-bearded and scowling man of a type whole scandal of the purchased aldermen now practically extinct, part bullying con- burst upon new york. the public was tractor, part rough politician, and part shrewd shocked at the revelations, many aldermen and unscrupulous schemer and manipulator. were indicted, many fled, three confessed, a it was a strange turn of fate that pitted this few were convicted. sharp himself narrowly thick-skinned, crude, and violent person escaped sing sing. ostensibly as an act of against the polished and courtly whitney. righteous retribution upon all this shameful sharp had long wanted the broadway fran- misdoing the legislature was induced to the chise from fifteenth street to bowling green very unusual step of annulling the charter of for his broadway surface railway company, sharp's company, which necessarily went into a concern with a merely paper existence; mr. the hands of a receiver. the franchise was whitney desired it for the cable railroad. still there and immensely valuable, but the mr. sharp won the prize-for $ , in company had no legal existence and the rail- bribes paid to the new york board of alder- road was operated by another concern. from men. the cable railroad is said to have this chaotic and (as you can readily under- made another offer, not quite so good. mr. stand) much depreciated state it was rescued sharp got his franchise and built his road when mr. daniel s. lamont, acting for the practically in a night. he was a thick-headed whitney - widener - elkins - ryan syndicate, man of one idea, but he knew what an in- bought the property for $ , . junction was and took no chances. the history of public utilities in the united this was in . the next year mr. states has always reeked with the corruption whitney went to washington as secretary of of public officers, but it has few chapters the navy in the first cleveland cabinet, but he that equal the story of business politics in retained his notions about the street railroad the broadway franchise deal. previous to as a source of wealth. when, four years later, sharp's victory the gift of the franchise lay in he returned to his active career in new york, the hands of the aldermen. several com- it was to lay hands upon that very broadway panies (one of them a mere blind for another) surface franchise that sharp had wrenched composed of gentlemen of the most eminent from his grasp-so strangely do things come respectability, engaged in a furious compe- about in this world-and to get it for a small tition for the prize. the bidding rose and fraction of the sum sharp paid. as he won rose until in the scramble bidders and bidden this long-coveted prize, he cemented likewise alike lost their heads. truly it was a mad, the most remarkable combination that has mad race. on both sides all thought of the ever been known in our financial affairs. mr. statutes was forgotten while the companies whitney had closely observed the amazing bid against one another and the aldermen achievements (to be related later) of p. a. b. raised their prices. a more extraordinary widener and william l. elkins in the phila- spectacle has not been seen in any legislative delphia traction field, and he rightly estimated body; a mania seized upon all persons con- these gentlemen as desirable partners in his cerned: there was scarcely any conceal- enterprise. with these he naturally associ- ment; you would have thought the selling ated mr. ryan. of votes was as legitimate as the selling of the syndicate thus formed endured for peanuts. many years, exercised almost boundless pow- at last one of the companies made a bid of er, came, as we shall see later, to deal in many $ , , of which $ , was to be in things besides street railroads, in more than cash and $ , in stock. sharp met this one way became historic, and made more with an offer of $ , in cash on the nail, money, more easily, more rapidly, and on and he won. the money was handed about smaller investments than any other associa- as if it had been buns. very strange things tion of men ever formed in this world. were witnessed while the fit of dementia of these great deeds we shall have to tell lasted. one alderman attempted to take by hereafter. for this present i want to go back force another alderman's share, and in the to the story of the broadway franchise, be very aldermanic chamber, practically in the cause that contains matter highly edifying to public view, one that thought he had been all desirous of knowing the secrets of sudden overlooked assaulted the distributor of bribes wealth. and tried to strangle him. . “where did you get it, gentlemen ?" will be continued in the september number. he delivered himself of a fiery burst of temper. a pyrrhic victory by dorothy canfield illustrations by f. r. gruger voung mrs. macarren looked after her jangling conversation at breakfast, she heard y husband's figure retreating stormily the clatter of hoofs, and her husband went down the hall, with so acute a perplexity in dashing past the window, his ruddy, handsome her mind that the desolate ache in her heart face gleaming with the exertion of holding in was for a moment deadened. she asked her- his spirited favorite, spitfire. there was no self as tragically as brides have asked since the trace of the irritation in which he had pushed beginning of the world, what was the trouble away from the breakfast-table, delivered him- between her and her husband; but the fact self of a fiery burst of temper, and gone that there was no trouble at all was so patently stamping down the hall. constance re- and bewilderingly plain to her that her mind flected bitterly that his horses and dogs knew whirled helplessly. her husband was de- the trick of pleasing him better than his wife, votedly attached to her. in her most un- and turned again to the wearisome search happy moments she could not doubt his love, after her fault. nor think his passionate affection a whit less if she only knew what it was in her that so than on the day, now six months ago, when he rubbed him the wrong way, why it was that on married her. there was nothing in their life certain days, in spite of clumsy and well- to annoy nor trouble him. he delighted in the meant efforts, he could not contain his quick free out-of-door existence that the superin- irritation at everything she said and did tendence of their large estate gave him, and or did not say and do! she went over and they had plenty of money to humor his whim over the various phases of their life together for fast horses and fine dogs. indeed, as she with the piteously scrutinizing eye of an un- stood miserably turning over in her mind their happy woman, in the attempt to see herself a pyrrhic victory from his standpoint. was it that she was and returned again to the feeling that some- dull? but sometimes he seemed to resent her how she should be able to conquer the situa- high spirits. was it that she was too gay? tion. she must conquer it or sink overwhelmed but on some days she had been horrified to by her misery. but since she could not at all find that her most subdued and heartfelt see what was the force against her, how could tenderness seemed unwelcome to him. no, she even set to work to prepare herself for the not unwelcome, only somehow not what he conflict? she never knew what it was that wanted then. was it that she was irre- started michael off on one of these day-long sponsive to his moods? but during these periods of sardonic dissatisfaction, and she miserable periods of friction and disagree- knew as little what it was that brought him ment, which were the more intolerable to her out of them, his mobile face alight with because they were slight in surface indica- an affection and gaiety that made her on tions, his mood seemed to be only anything his “good days" the most supremely happy that was not hers. of women. she could only thank heaven the clock struck eleven heavily behind her blindly that the bad times were rare, pray and she realized with a start that she had not that they might be short, and enjoy to the moved from the chair into which she had highest pitch of intoxication her husband's sunk listlessly after breakfast. there was unrivaled charm when his mood was buoyant. indeed no reason why she should move. in never once in all the expedients she had the expensive, well-appointed household she tried had she hit upon anything that seemed was like a guest at an infinitely comfortable to strike the right note. she told herself hotel, whose material wants were supplied humbly that the fault must be hers, that she by the pushing of a button. accustomed to a must fail in some way; but she despaired of vague, wandering life of summer resorts and learning how to improve. nothing she could visits and european travel with an adoring do was of any avail. aunt, the absence of household cares seemed her maid came into the room, a discreet to her the natural condition of things; but of smile on her face. “please, mrs. macarren,” late, going far afield she said, “mr. ma- in her search for ex- carren's old nurse planations, she had is down-stairs and wondered if both would like to see she and her hus- you. she's just band would not be passing through on happier if they had her way back to more to do. with a ireland and wanted native energy and to see mr. macar- good sense wholly ren, but he's left undirected, she re- word he won't be flected that it was home till evening, not a healthy state and she must go on of things when she right after lunch- could sit from nine eon, and she said to eleven brooding she thought maybe undisturbed over you'd see her." the fact that every- constance wel- thing at the table comed the break in had gone wrong, her vacant, listless and that every at- day. “yes, i'll see tempt of hers at her; mr. macarren pacification had but will be sorry to miss acted as a greater her. she really irritant. brought him up un- but such their til he went away to life was; she had school. he's very the vaguest concep- fond of her.” tion of any other she could sit from nine to eleven the last words form of existence, brooding undisturbed. were lost in a rush everybody's magazine upon her from the door. “ah! sure i wasn't an' no mistake. i know all about it, bein' afther waitin' down-stairs all this time while afflicted with the warst set av thim that iver the swate craytur my darlin' michael married mortal man had to put up with though ye'd was up-stairs. you dear! you dear! you're not think it to look at me. they was different purtier than he said-and he said all that wan from yours-mine was the kind that got tied language will hold. here, now, kiss me in bow-knots. i spake of 'em as though i once an' i'll unloose me bonnet-strings and had thim no more, now since i'm a wid- stay wid ye a while, for a cozy talk from wan der so long, for what difference do nerves married woman to another. go away, now, make if they don't have a man-body to run you gur-rl! we're goin' to talk men-folks, an' into?” it's talk no gur-rl shud hear, for thin she'd she settled herself in her chair, patted the niver marry, an' by that she'd lose the greatest snowy bands of hair about her round, rosy blessin' heaven has, which the same is a good face, and launched comfortably into a rem- husband. all men are good husbands if you iniscent, garrulous monologue. do but beat it out of thim." “the funny thing is that, though ivery- at this the maid retreated, echoing aloud, in body has nerves, no two folks as has the same a rare departure from discipline, the shout of kind of nerves iver git married. you'd think laughter that the old woman gave at her own just once, as the exciption to the rule, 'twould philosophy as she lowered her bulky form happen-but niver! now, michael's father carefully into a chair. an' mother-i niver see her, but i know from “now, then, you darlin'—what's your the talk what she was like-they was a fair name? constance? sure an? i'm not goin' example. mr. macarren's nerves tuk it out to call little master michael's wife any stiff on him in making him that milancholy that, mrs. macarren. that's the name of his whin he had a black fit on, iverybody in the sainted mother that died before iver i knew house had to hold iverybody else from goin' the spalpeen. and so ye're married a bit of and jumpin' in the river. 'twas as ketchin' a child like you? an' how do ye make out? as smallpox, an' about as bad to have. an' i suppose about now you're thinkin' michael his wife, her nerves was the kind that makes is a cross between a divil and an archangel folks what they call spirited, and what is aren't ye?-an'that ye're explorin’in a coun- spiteful. i know, for me own set is on that try no wan else iver discovered before, an' that order. could she iver have a rale com- there ain't no map to it. come, now, let me fortable quarrel wid her husband and have it hear all about it. ye ain't got no mother, so out? not she, poor craytur! it'd run on i hear, an? i'm safe to tell, for i'm goin' back for days, making her miserable and smolderin' to ireland the marnin', an' for all i talk so an' smokin' the house all up; whin, if he'd loose there's nobody can get a word out o' me just a-set a match to it, in two minutes of whin it's not his business." blaze 'twould ha' been all out, an' she happy constance had scarcely caught her breath ag'in. could he iver ralely enjoy wan of thim after the first onslaught, and at this dashing milancholy spills as long as she was alive? attack on her reserve she suddenly began to not he! she was always pokin' at him to laugh loudly and then found herself crying. cheer him up, and remind him that there the old woman heaved herself up from her wasn't a mortal thing in the wurrld that he chair like leviathan, and going over to the couldn't have if he wanted it-an' to say other, she put her arms about her in a close that to a person that's havin' a lovely fit grasp which seemed unexpectedly welcome to of nerves is the most hard-hearted, cruel, the shaking, hysterical young creature. torturing invintion av ol' nick. "cry it out, cry it out,” she said heartily. “now, me an' me ol' man he was a “ 'twill do ye good-all ye foine ladies don't yankee, an' the bist man god iver made- know what a trate a rale good cry is—some- god rist his sowl where he now is—it tuk me times i think shtampin' a little hilps, too.” exactly siven years to find out what kind of at this constance began to laugh again nerves he had, whin 'twas as plain as the nose weakly, wiping her eyes and explaining that on me face is now, what they was like. i her tears were purely nervous. dunno' what it is that makes a person so blind “yis, yis,” returned the other comfortably, to things that concern 'em the most. i'd have seeking her chair again; “sure i know that done anything in the wurrld for ezra, but, as talk. and there's more in it than any of ye i say, 'twas siven years before i found out that says it belave. nerves is the very divil that my harmless little explosions that i let a pyrrhic victory off steam wid, was loike death an' the ind av niver had no doubt about what tools to use in the wurrld to him. that trade, and the fit of thim to me hand “i was that way. some marnin's i'd wake used to make up for always usin’ th' other up backward, as ye might say, an' the only kind at home with ezra. did master mi- way i could git turned around was to set off chael rise up in the marnin' wid everything all the fireworks in me till i'd just whirl like black to him an' start in makin' iverybody a top for a minute or two-an' thin there i miserable, his rid hair just glistenin' with was in the straight path. but ezra-once i diviltry an' his blue eyes impish and milan- remimber i felt like as though a banshee had choly at once, as though his father and his started up before me, whin i found, weeks mother was both strugglin' to come to th’ top, after wan ay thim little whirls av mine, that i'd lit him run on about so long, and thin ezra was still broodin' over it and wonderin' i'd slap his face good, and shake him just as what was wrong. i'd forgotten all about it, hard as me arms would do it, an' set him down as clane as though the judgment day had –bang!—in a chair-an' he'd be as happy as happened since. now, i'm tillin' ye th' a king for two weeks afther. ah, we got on so “ my harmless little explosions was loike death an the ind av the wurrld to him." truth, i ain't niver yit ralely understood what foine togither! 'twas mr. macarren's won- was the matter that day—and most like 'twas der how i managed th' bye. an' how we did just nothin' at all—but it turned the marrow love each other, my little michael an' me! stiff in me bones to find ezra layin' it up ag'in he loved his father, but the man niver cud me; for thinkin' about it and remimberin' it git the hang o' his son. he'd try givin' him is layin' it up, anny way ye fix it. that was what he wanted, to calm him down, an' that the beginnin' av me larnin’ me trade—siven was the warst thing possible. an' he was years it tuk me before i could lay me hand to always tormintin' himself to find out what th' simplest tool av it without danger av was the rayson, which th' same is thryin' to cuttin' meself an' me man-an' i'm no fool count . hin's teeth, since there's no rayson ayther! there at all, at all. “but now your man- your michael-my “i knew, for i was made so mesilf. if only michael-he was the comfort av me life. i ezra could have larned to swear at me once niver did get rale clear-through sure i knew or twice, or maybe heave a plate or two, whin about ezra, because his nerves was so differ- me nerves was gettin' th' bist o' me! but ent from mine—but little master michael! i thin, it's like waitin' for the brook to run by knew him as though he was me own son. i to expect that kind of sinse from a man-body. everybody's magazine an’thin think av the hours out av purgatory swung out of the house, her eyes wide and i've earned by holdin' an to mesilf-an' there vague. was always little master michael-lord save when michael macarren dismounted wear- us! 'twas like seein' mesilf in wan av thim ily from spitfire, stiff from an all day's ride littlefyin' lookin'-glasses to see him start in on and damp with autumn dew, he was told that a tantrum, an' it done me as much good to his wife was in her little writing-room. he shake him as if it was ezra growed wise doin' fumbled along the hall to the door and opened it to me.” it, expecting to see the usual pleasant scene she turned a startled head toward the door, of a blazing fire and a wife in a pretty house- suddenly opened, and exclaimed, “by the gown reading under the lamp. the hearth powers above! if there ain't my niece rosy was black and in the twilight he could just donohue come to till me i must go, and this i see his wife sitting upright in a chair. the must till mesilf—i'm the worst tonguey old aspect of things struck him as singularly woman in the lord's wurrld-me that have · cheerless, and he began—"no fire? on an run on so the few minutes i have to stay, and evening like this?” niver heard a word of news about master from the dusk came a bullet-like mono- michael, only i'd heard it all below-stairs syllable, weighted with significance. "no," annyhow: that he's well and handsomer than said his wife. iver. and whin i see you, the second sight “why in heaven's name a damp night like i have that comes of my father's bein' the this should be selected to go without—" a sivinth son and me bein' born in october, let bombshell exploded in the little room. his me know that you was fitter to listen to anny wife's voice rose in an accent he had never kind o' talk than to open your mouth, bein' heard before—“there's no fire because i in a fit av nerves yoursilf, whativer kind don't wish to have one--and if i don't wish yours are, which heaven guard ye from one that's reason enough, and the less you havin' the kind called sensaytive!” say about it the better." without a pause in the flow of words, she h e stopped short, amazement striking his tied her bonnet on tightly, rose heavily from face blank of all expression. there was a her chair, kissed the young wife firmly and moment's silence. in the dark he could not loudly on both cheeks, and disappeared down see that his wife was trembling uncontrollably. the stairs, her cheerful voice rising from the he caught his breath and began again: depths in incoherent salutations and wishes “well, of all the greetings for a man when he for good luck. comes home tired and wet and—” this constance stood alone in the empty room, time the bombshell exploded in his very face, her ears still ringing with confusion. the so that he recoiled against the wall. his clock behind her struck twelve. it was just little constance had sprung toward him till an hour since she had roused herself from her she was close upon him, and she spoke in apathy to notice that time still marched, a whirlwind of unrestrained, raging temper although there was nothing in the hours for that beat about his ears like something pal- her. she felt a sudden need for action, rang pable. for her luncheon to be served at once, and “you tired!—you come home and want summoned her maid to dress her for a long comfort! what do you think of me left here tramp. all through her was a new tingling all day long with nothing to look back on but restlessness, as though into a close room had your beastly bad temper at breakfast, and suddenly rushed a blast from an october nothing to look forward to but more of it at hillside. her maid, in dressing her, remarked dinner? the idea of your thinking that i'll on her improved looks. always be here ready to endure your cross- “old mrs. mahoney quite cheered you up, grainedness and bearishness until you're ma'am, didn't she?” she ventured, with the ready to get over it!” friendly interest that constance's servants al- she was so close to him that he could now ways took in her. “she's such a funny old see that she was trembling, but she held her- thing. she kept everybody down-stairs laugh- self fiercely erect and the tears in her eyes ing while we were sending around to see if might very well have been tears of rage. mr. macarren could be found. so irish, isn't “by jove!” he exclaimeď in an amazed she?” (the maid's own name was mary voice, “i never knew you'd look so handsome malone.) in a fury!” her mistress nodded an absent assent and she cast a strange look at him and flashed "but now your man-your michael-my michael-he was the comfort av me life." out of the door, down the hall, incoherent with the blessed soaring ease of women passionate exclamations streaming behind who love, constance's mood changed between her stormy passage. arrived in her own breaths. she was transfigured; she shivered room she stopped short, waiting. her breath for joy under his caressing hand, her whole came hard, both hands were pressed on her being warmed and opened out into happiness temples, and her very soul seemed directed in in the miracle that only her husband could her straining eyes down the darkened cor- effect. hiding deep in her heart an ache she ridor. did not recognize, she responded with the when michael macarren's large form and exhilaration of relief to all his projects. alarmed perplexed face loomed through the he rose to make the arrangements for their dusk, and she felt about her the clasp of his journey, and bending over her fondly, he strong tender arms, she gave an hysterical kissed her with a new ardor. “ah, constance gasp of laughter and shook in a frenzy of dear, there's just nothing you couldn't make nervous tears. the man melted into self- me do! it's true that a man's wife winds reproach, expressed ardently in the most in- him around her little finger-and it's all right, coherent words and fondest caresses. he too!”. was beside himself with remorse. the words still rang in the silent room “you poor dear! you poor darling!” he after he had left her. yes, she had con- exclaimed. “i am a brute to leave you so. quered him, she told herself, and ruefully i don't know what was the matter with me summoned all her determination to put out this morning—the very devil seems to get into of her sight the cost of her victory. she was me—but it's all gone now. i feel like another quivering still from his caresses, but her person. ah, connie dear, i love you so—i knees shook under her with another agitation can't tell you how i love you! and how as she stood before the tall pier-glass trying, beautiful you are--i never saw you look with shaking fingers, to arrange her hair. she handsomer than- see, sweetheart, what do looked resolutely at her own face and past it you say to a few days in the city ?—we've into the years to come, accepted once and for been dull here—the theatres are just open- all a new sadness in her eyes, and turned ing-let's go and have another honeymoon.” joyously to meet her husband. a study in emotions by constance smedley author of " an april princess,” “ for heart o' gold,” etc., etc. the study window was open, and the cool, who was never more defiant than when he was i rain-scented air entered refreshingly. most deeply repenting. the reading-lamp cast a circle of light upon “you're an ungrateful little beast!” said the litter of books and papers on the table; margaret, and swept out of the room, while nina was repeating french verbs, margaret's noel laughed a reckless laugh. but the face was bent over a crabbed looking exercise, laugh was mirthless, and the equations danced noel sprawled in the armchair with his feet upon the page unmeaningly. the accusing over the side, languidly trifling with his silence became painful; noel rose. euclid. “where are you going?” asked his younger “oh, by the by, what did they say about sister. my bicycle?” asked noel's sister, looking up nina was twelve and assertive of her wom- from her books with a start of recollection. an's privileges. between her and noel margaret was sixteen, had just attained the stretched a gulf of mutual irritation. now dignity of long skirts, and in a year would she followed him into the hall, and hung proceed to college from the high school; she on the banisters in an offensively watchful viewed life with proportionate earnestness. fashion. “your bicycle?” “what's that to do with you?" said noel, noel put down his euclid suddenly. col- hunting for his cap. lege is a vague shadow on the indefinite hori- “i only asked,” answered nina. zon of fourteen, but margaret's bicycle rose “if you'd mind your own business now and up with horrible distinctness. then, it would be a good thing!” growled “i don't believe you've ever taken it!" said noel, finding his cap in a soaked umbrella. margaret. "really, noel, your temper is getting “the fact is—" said noel, and stopped. worse and worse each day," said nina, with no fact presented itself at the moment except sisterly concern. “and you know mother the damning one that he had completely for- doesn't like you to go out so late. have you gotten the bicycle's existence from the moment finished all your lessons?” that margaret had wheeled it out to him in “go and play with your dolls,” said noel the garden, with strict injunctions to take it between his teeth, and slammed the door po- at once to the cycle-mender. litely in his sister's face. “you don't mean it's been out in all that the breath of summer whispered in the storm!” said margaret, with a rising inflection darkness; the leaves of the trees that stood in her voice. “my new free wheel!” along the sidewalk were dripping and fragrant “it won't have hurt it," said noel sulkily. after the rain; far in the distance sounded the conscience was gripping him with iron fin rattle of the trams. noel hesitated, then gers. “anyhow, it's no use rowing, now the turned and walked slowly up the road. the thing's done!” scent of the lime trees was intense in the dark- “do you think i don't know that!” ex ness. presently the houses ceased; noel had claimed margaret with indignant bitterness. reached the bridge, whose low parapet afford- “you never do a thing for any one! after ed a convenient place for meditation; he sat all the trouble, i've had coaching you, you down and kicked his heels against the stones. deliberately leave my cycle out in that fear- what if he had forgotten margaret's bi- ful storm, and you haven't even the grace to cycle? could he help his memory? why, be sorry!” only yesterday he had assisted her to develop “i never wanted to be coached,” said noel, photographs for two hours! of course, that a study in emotions was forgotten. sisters remembered only grier- have rendered it unfit for use; then he could ances! easily have offered to push the cycle home. the water gurgled soothingly between the his feet led him mechanically to the red arches; he felt a melancholy that was not un house at the corner. it stood back from the pleasant. it was at least more bearable out sidewalk; between the laurel trees the lights here in the moonlight than in the lamp-lit streamed forth. as he watched, the church study, with nina's shrill voice nagging, and clock chimed ten; there was no chance that the endless scratching of margaret's pen. the vision would emerge again that night. how petty a man's life became, lived under noel turned his steps toward his home. sisters' criticizing eyes! “where have you been?” margaret opened noel began to throw stones in the river. the door to him. “it's after ten, and you've what he wanted was romance and adven- not touched your algebra! mother's been ture! worrying like anything! what have you been if only there were some desperate deed to doing?” do! some criminal to track! some girl to noel swung past her savagely into the hall. rescue! words that a gentleman might employ to- noel rose up from the wall and rammed his ward a sister seemed pitifully inadequate. hands into his pockets. “when do you mean to do your algebra ?” action! that was what a man wanted! asked margaret, as noel snatched up his the ting-ting of a bicycle bell sounded candlestick and made for the staircase. across the bridge. a whir of wheels, and a “i'll get up in the morning,” noel vouch- cycle whizzed up to him and stopped. safed from the landing. “have you a match, please?" “i know what that means! come down at a small girl in a scarlet tam-o’-shanter was once, you naughty~" noel's door slammed addressing him: she stood beside her bicycle, to. the click of the key was heard within short-skirted, trimly shod, black stockinged. the lock. sweet are the uses of a lock and in calmer moments and by the light of day key! noel would have noticed a certain assurance “i don't know what we're going to do with and a propensity to toss her head similar to him," said margaret, with the hopelessness of the traits he disapproved of so strongly in his sixteen weary years, as she sat down opposite sister nina. but to-night he was athirst for her mother in the study. “he ought to be romance! punished!” “i don't like going into the town unless my “my dear, he's fourteen!” said noel's lamp is lit," said the vision, with the haughty mother meekly. “you can't punish a boy air of one who is accustomed to give orders, who's as tall as noel!” “i'll light it for you," murmured noel, ad- “what has he been doing to-night, i should vancing with a match-box. he opened the like to know," said margaret, sorely hurt at lamp as slowly as possible. noel's reticence toward her, his sworn ally. “your wick's nearly through. have you “why couldn't he tell me?" far to go?" asked noel with a beating heart, why indeed! up-stairs noel gazed out of and marveling at his own courage. the window into starry solitude. what “st. james's road," replied the stranger. should a sister understand about a vision! “it's that big red house at the corner. we've only just moved to jeunessetown, and i lost my way, and got caught in the storm and had to shelter. i meant to be home before dark. won't the wick light?" noel sat on a plank in the tool-shed; his the vision bent an imperious head above chum stood beside the rabbit-hutch and poked the handle-bar. noel rose up hastily. a lettuce leaf between the bars. distant “yes, it's all right now,” said he. murmurs floated from the open windows of “thank you so much! good night!” the house, suggesting to the initiated that a flash of patent-leather shoes twinkling on margaret and nina were skirmishing in the a muddy wheel, and the bicycle had whirred stormy field of euclid. away between the row of lamps and lime outside in the sunshine, the heliotrope and trees, while noel stood in the roadway, blam- verbenas sent up sweet perfume from the bor- ing himself heartily for having lighted the ders. the tool-house was of corrugated iron, wick. with a little management he might and the sun beat down upon it mercilessly, ii everybody's magazine while the presence of the rabbits made itself in like that, and leave your guest so far felt in the odorous atmosphere: but the tool behind; it looks so greedy!” said his mother; house had the surpassing charm of privacy. and noel sat down at the table, loathing all “i'm not rotting or anything," concluded mankind. noel, “but you never saw such a ripping girl “crosspatch, draw the latch!” hummed in all your life!” nina sweetly. clem passed her the marma- “tall?" asked clem, abstractedly pushing lade with an understanding smile. naturally a stick between the bars. noel had no course left but to refuse all food. "fairish! she's not small,” said noel “i wouldn't sulk with the bread and but- quickly. ter,” said nina. “dark?” clem was insinuating the stick “be quiet, nina; just leave him alone," beneath an elderly rabbit and beginning to said margaret, and noel knew not which he raise it deftly. hated most. it is well known that love makes “i've grown out of dark girls,” said noel men moody; noel sat, a perfect study in loftily. “it's her fair hair that's so pretty.” emotions, throughout tea-time. “as pretty as nina's — your sister's - i “what's the matter with noel?” he heard mean?" inquired clem, jerking the stick sud nina whispering to clem; noel in his dark denly. the rabbit pawed the air and fell corner, ground his teeth, and hated friend and over with a squeal. family inclusively. “look out!" said noel. “of course she's somewhere in the twilight a bicycle was prettier than nina! i shouldn't have looked wheeling! somewhere in the twilight a vis- at her if she wasn't!” ion in a scarlet cap held up an imperious clem resumed his operations with the let head! and he was doomed to sit still in a tuce leaf. stuffy study and watch his friend and nina “where does she live?” he asked, drawing playing ping-pong! what mad whim had back the lettuce with tantalizing skill. prompted him to ask clem to tea? he re- “in the big red house at the corner of st. fused to be drawn into the conversation; james's road.” clem's geniality maddened him. “the house that lawyer chap has come to?”. “noel is becoming quite impossible," said queried clem. “if it's that girl, she goes to margaret, when he had withdrawn his gloomy miss vincent's; but no one could call her tall!” presence from his family, on clem's depart- “i believe she has a little sister,” lied noel. ure. “i'm ashamed for any one to come “she's not a giantess, of course!” here!" “the girl that lives in the red house has noel's mother sighed. “i do hope the no sister, beastly short skirts, and a perfect poor boy isn't sickening for anything," she mop of hair," said clem, drawing up the rab- said. “he looks so yellow!” bit after the lettuce leaf till it stood upon its upstairs noel feverishly sorted out his ties. hind legs against the bars. if she went to miss vincent's school, he might “please leave off stuffing my rabbits," see her in the morning. the tie he chose was gasped noel. “they'll burst in a minute!” flaming scarlet. “this is the identical lettuce leaf i started with," protested clem, rightly injured. “i iii haven't let 'em have a single mouthful.” “then you're ruining their tempers. i for three mornings running noel had been won't have them fooled like that. it's most late for school. three mornings running a dangerous!” said noel with a prompt flank vision on a bicycle had flashed past noel as movement. he hung about the corner of st. james's road. “did 'ems tease his rabbit then because for three evenings noel had absented himself they had a flaxen mop and dolly petticoats!” from his anxious family, and had promenaded jeered clem, shooting the lettuce leaf be- fruitlessly in front of the red house. tween the bars with dizzy swiftness. on the fourth morning he sat at breakfast, “did you hear me tell you to leave them morose and heavy-eyed. food was of small alone?” said noel, his face white with anger. interest. nina and margaret chatted on, “tea, tea, tea!” sang a sisterly voice from but their voices had no power to disturb his the window, and noel stalked out of the tool- dreams. shed in haughty silence. “i think it's most unwise to encourage nina “noel dear, it's such bad manners to race in these sudden friendships," he heard mar- a study in emotions garet's decisive voice remarking to her mother. “he doesn't in the least know what to say," "we know absolutely nothing about the girl!” murmured nina. “just look how red he is!” he gathered vaguely that nina had invited voel made for his seat blindly; a piercing somebody to tea. he was not interested; he bayonet would have been an ineffective had slept too late to see the vision on her way weapon at the moment. to school this morning. . “do you play cricket?” whispered nina to his byronic gloom accompanied him to the vision, and the vision shook her head. school; he greeted clem with little enthusi- “i bowl to noel sometimes, but he gets so iasm; clem, however, hopped around him cross i soon give up,” confided nina artlessly. with irritating cheerfulness, and declined to “he has a fearful temper. he's hardly be rebuffed. spoken to us for the last three days. he left “i say, your girl knows blenkins minor," margaret's new free wheel in the garden, and said clem. it got drenched, and— ” blenkins minor! a sudden cold sensation there is a time in the affairs of all men struck to the deepest depths of noel's youthful when the most nervous must assert his dignity. heart. blenkins minor! his pet bête noire! noel raised a desperate head: he was tayed a little tubby chap with fat pink cheeks and and smarting to the limit of endurance. there knickerbockers! was only one ally at the table, an ally whom he “she asked him to light her lamp," chir- had treated with scant consideration. he ruped clem, trying unsuccessfully to pirou- dared not look at margaret: his voice came ette upon one toe. “she lives with her pater roughly. and a housekeeper; blenkins minor is going “seen what notts has done?” he asked. to get her some white mice!” and clem h is heart gave a bound of relief at the in- struck out wildly with his left foot, maintain- stantaneous reply. ing an upright poise. “no, dear. what?" shattered to its foundation, noel's castle margaret had responded nobly. noel lay in the dust, and blenkins minor trampled plunged into a sea of information. through its ruins. then a faint hope crept the vision and nina were whispering to- in consolingly. the first respect and awe gether, but nina's home thrusts failed to hurt had vanished; but he still felt interest in the him when margaret, superior and stately, ad- vision, and there is always pleasure in humil- mitted him an equal to her grown up plane. iating an enemy. blenkins minor could soon presently he discovered that the little girls be disposed of. he walked home with curi- were sitting silent, listening. noel pushed ously pleasurable excitement, and only when still further into complicated scores and bat- he was in the hall did he remember that ninating averages. had a visitor. through the dining-room tall! why, she was only nina's size! to door he recognized the giggle nina adopted the jaundiced eves of disillusion, she did not on such occasions; to-night it did not irritate seem a day older than thirteen. and she was him so much as usual. a confidante of nina's! noel averted his he pushed open the door, entered, and eyes in cold disgust. stood still. a flaxen tangle shook itself across “are you doing anything to-night?” he the table; two blue eyes shot a haughty glance asked of margaret. at him, a pair of rosy lips whispered to nina, “why?" who hid her mirth with ostentation. “i wondered if you'd come for a ride?” said the vision sat at his own table, nina's noel, holding out a final olive branch. friend! margaret accepted gratefully. noel felt tides of crimson sweeping, over the road lay white and still in the quiet him; he stood awkwardly within the doorway. summer's twilight; pleasant was the whir of ought he to recognize her? how was he to the wheel as the bicycles bowled along over greet her? the bridge, where the river lay, a sheet of “isn't noel shy?” whispered nina, in an gold. audible aside. “that's 'cause of you, you pleasantest of all was it to chat of nina's know!" delinquencies and to regret with margaret her the vision tossed her curls. propensity for these rash friendships. after “let me introduce my brother,” said mar- all, love is a troublesome pursuit; noel was garet. noel found himself grunting confused not wholly sorry that his brief romance was words that seemed to him to have no meaning. ended. how moriarty escaped by h. r. durant illustrations by m. stein ite opened his eyes with a start, blinked beer and talk about him-him that had to go i like an animal gazing into the blinding to the chair before the factory whistles blew noonday sun, and then sat up in his narrow at noon. bed with a jerk. from the tiny window over his beady eyes shot fierce beams of im- his head the early morning light stretched potent fury around his steel-sheathed cage and across his cell and cast shadows of the two then rested fixedly on a bundle of black clothes steel window-bars on the white partition near the door. Învoluntarily he gasped with opposite. he could tell by the nearness of uncertain terror, and then deep down in his the two shadows to the bolt-head sticking barrel-like chest came a sickening sense of from the wall that it was six o'clock. the the nearness of death. heretofore his hazy bolt was his daily sun-dial. turning his head, thoughts of the end had been in a dim per- he peered with two ratlike eyes through the spective; it had been an abstract question, steel grating of his door into the stone corridor one unsuggested by any material symbol, but beyond, where sat the alert, silent, grim death- now those black, shiny garments in such a watch. the prisoner's bullet head shrank into quiet, orderly pile on the cold metal floor his massive shoulders, then slowly dropped were frightfully tangible. here at his very forward and remained motionless, like that feet was a beckoning finger from the grave of a bulldog surveying a dead opponent in that yawned for him. he slunk against the the blood-splashed pit. his protruding chin wall and drops of chilling perspiration dotted formed one triangle point from which a his apelike forehead. between the somber straight line could be drawn over a wide sensual coat and trousers was a layer of white, and mouth, a long upper lip, a pug-nose flattened in the gloomy light of his cell, to his lim- and twisted like a bent corkscrew, and across ited and distorted imagination the bundle a forehead hardly high enough to separate the changed from its shroudlike form and sud- knitted, bushy eyebrows and the black, bris- denly loomed beside him in fiendish mockery, tly hair, to the domelike crown of his head, a veritable grinning death's-head. for an which formed another triangle point, and then instant he snarled at it in a spasm of deadly straight down to the back of his bulging neck. hate, but when it seemed to dance forward, what had once been ears were now two toad, his knotted fingers convulsively clutched his stool-like projections sticking from his head in throat to stifle the wild scream of nameless ghastly prominence. somewhere afar a bell fear that arose to his thick lips, and then, tolled, and then the answering stillness was throwing the blanket over his head, he grov- rent sharply, as a child's shrill, laughing treble eled among the bedclothes in a paroxysm of came through the window and drummed its helpless and immeasurable terror. 'way into his slow brain. he shook his head as he lay thus and shook, there was little pugnaciously and his repulsive face expressed to recall the invincible champion of two- the mighty sullen rage within, as he recog score prize-rings, a man who had dared and nized the sound. defeated all who sought his title, but instead yes, outside were children playing in the there was the cowardly brute who had vicious- june sunshine, he reflected, with a consuming ly pounced like a wild beast upon his patient, bitterness. this afternoon bands would play faithful woman companion, for some fancied at the race-tracks, and to-night-where would wrong, and had clubbed her head into an un- he be to-night?—the bunch would meet in recognizable mass. it was for this that he mcglory's joint over big glasses of foaming must die. how moriarty escaped his condition of abject fear slowly gave “but you broke his crucifix and drove him way to a strange and growing inspiration of from your cell yesterday. he said he would new courage and a keen animal cunning. not come again.” he cautiously slipped the blanket from his “i want father ryan," he repeated dog- round head and his snaky eyes narrowly gedly. searched the figure of the imperturbable “very well—i'll have to telephone and it death-watch outside in glittering malevolence. may take ten minutes to get him. the rest ah-the glistening chain ran from a button- of the keepers are in there." he pointed to hole in his watcher's coat to a side pocket the end of the passage where moriarty knew where rested, he knew, the great prison was a door that opened upon that dreaded keys. his sluggish intellect was marvelously chair, now literally waiting to infold him with quickened by the resolute thought of escape. its arms of death. again was he the cool, resourceful fighter, “it won't be long now, moriarty. keep mentally deliberating upon the complete up your courage,” the warden added, in a physical annihilation of an elusive antagonist. low voice, as he turned and passed from view. now he no longer thought of the package sol—the prison keepers were all in the of black clothes at his feet! already in his death-chamber? of course, the guards were mind's eye the june sun was warming his outside on the walls, but only this—this guy shaven head, cool within six feet of hills of waving green him was between were gloriously him and the sun- greeting his vision, light! and fresh breezes "hey, bill!” he fanned the prison called, and the pallor of his cheek watcher came to the into a joyous flush door, “s'pose we of anticipative free- shake a good-by now dom. the jailer's -here's me left head had dropped hand-it's nearest forward a little. he me heart." was dozing! midway in the the prisoner door was an aper- stepped from his ture about eight bed and laying hold inches square, of the steel bars of through which food his door, violently could be passed shook it like an en- without unlocking raged gorilla. at the the door. the watch- sound of the loud rat- er smiled sym - tling the death-watch pathetically as he sprang up, and the reached through the warden hurried bars and then, when down the corridor. his charge leaned “what's the mat- forward as though ter, moriarty?" to whisper some- asked the warden, thing, he bent his not unkindly; "you own head and aren't losing your turned his ear op- nerve at the last posite the opening minute, i hope. in the door. the your breakfast will next instant a be here soon. did gnarled fist shot you want some- through the hole and thing?" landed with unerr- "i want father ing aim and fearſul ryan,'' he said force directly under sulkily. the prisoner shook it like an enraged gorilla. the keeper's ear. he everybody's magazine sank insensible, and moriarty, still holding one hand in an iron grip, pulled the inert body toward him against the bars. a hairy hand tore the keys from the keeper's coat, a bolt clinked in its socket, and-moriarty sprang into the corridor! at his feet was the unconscious death- watch in a huddled heap. with his fanglike teeth showing in a murderous smile of glee moriarty glided over the stone pavement with tigerish grace, noiselessly slipped a key from the bunch in his hands to the keyhole in the door leading to the death-chamber, and half turned it, thus effectually preventing any one from opening it except from his side-then- back again with stealthy tread to where the keeper lay. he stooped over him, felt for his revolver, and then-once, twice, three times the heavy butt of the weapon fell on the watch- er's head, leaving a jagged, crimson track. “that puts th’ kibosh on you,” he muttered as he lifted the unconscious form and slammed it upon his bed. when he again leaped from the cell he wore the keeper's blue trousers and flannel shirt, and the black coat that the state had provided as part of his own grave clothes. the trousers of the black suit he had found slit behind from knee to ankle and consequently useless. he ran down the corridor and back again. nobody could get in, but-he couldn't get out! the house of execution was a small building apart from the main prison, consisting of two cells in which crimi- nals were placed when their time for electrocution grew near. its other condemned occupant had gone to the chair the week before. “there's where they fatted me like a prize hog fer th' slaughter," he growled, with a curse, as he eyed his cage again. thirty feet above his head the corrugated sheet-iron roof sloped gradually downward to the rear wall. he had never before noticed that small wood- en skylight in the roof. there might be a way! from wall to wall ran a round iron bar as a support to the building. it was high above his head and fully seven feet beneath the skylight. if he could only reach that bar lif he only could! his little eyes gleamed and he drew in his breath with a hissing noise as he saw a water-pipe running down one wall from roof to floor. in four jumps he had reached the pipe and with another spring had fastened upon it with the nimbleness of a cat. up-up he climbed, clawing with hands, digging with feet, and gripping with knees, inch by inch, until the bar was gained. as he grasped it and swung clear in the air like a gymnast, there came a banging on the steel moriarty pulled the inert body toward him. assailed his ears from below, and as he desperately strove to gain his equilibrium on the slippery iron surface his eyes grew blood- shot, foam came to his mouth, and his teeth gnashed incessantly like the frantic snapping of a mad dog. slowly he arose to an upright position on the bar, weaving to and fro dizzily for a perfect balance, leaped for the skylight edge, held on for a second, and then wriggled his way up through the hole. sliding to the edge of the roof, he hung for an instant and in his headlong rush knocking over a woman. then dropped to the ground. he saw two chil- dren look up from their playing in wide-eyed door of the death-chamber. hand over hand wonder at a hatless man who had apparently he went along the bar with the agility of a fallen from the sky. he knew they were the monkey, swinging back and forth through warden's children and that their father's house space in his passage like a pendulum, until he was before him. the high prison wall joined saw he was beneath the skylight. the pound the house on each side, but the house itself ing in the corner grew louder. he snarled in fronted on—the street! to the right on the wolfish rage and muttered defiling oaths as he massive stone abutment a man had just began to jerk his body forward-backward, stepped from a turret and stood silhouetted each time gaining momentum, until at last he against an azure background. simultane- was under full headway, and circling like an ously with a puff of smoke from the man's acrobat on a horizontal bar. then as his rifle came a shower of brick-dust on his own body soared high, poised in mid-air for the head—the bullet was six inches too high, fraction of a second, and began a descent of he dashed through the door, in his headlong appalling celerity, his legs straightened out rush knocking over a woman in the kitchen and on the upward swing his feet landed full who was standing as one petrified, tore against the skylight with irresistible force. through the dining-room and hall, and out it broke from its fastenings as from the im- upon the sidewalk. in front a boy had just pact of a battering-ram, and then-overhead ridden up on a bicycle and dismounted. in was the gold of the sun, the blue of the sky, another moment the boy was stretched out on the flocculent white clouds and–freedom! his back and moriarty was riding the wheel the sharp ring of metal against metal at a furious pace toward the open country. everybody's magazine on and on he sped, up hill and down with stops there fer water. make that flyer an' undiminished speed, beside green meadows yer git a start, anyway.” as he spoke the and through stately woods until at last every train slackened speed and had hardly come to blistering breath seemed a red-hot iron burn- a full stop when the express rolled alongside. ing a hole in his chest, and tearing pains the brakeman peered between the trains, coursed through his legs with an untold and then tapped moriarty on the shoulder. agony. just ahead railroad tracks crossed “now!” he said. “scoot fer that pullman the highway, and here he fell from his bicycle, an’ straddle a truck. yer'll be in chicago panting and numb. then on his hands to-night. s’long.” and knees, dragging the wheel behind, he from his uncomfortable position on the crawled into the thick laurel and alders, and rear truck of the pullman, sprawled out and. plunged forward on his face as one dead. hugging close lest he be shaken off and pulver- far away a whistle shrieked and the hills took ized by those ringing, spinning wheels, mori- up its echoing wail. he heard it again, this arty caught fleeting glimpses of rivers below; time much nearer, and accompanied by the and stretches of thick forests and undulating increasing roar of pounding wheels. he fields came to his blurred vision in a lightning- staggered to his feet to see a long freight train like panorama. as the ties rushed under- approaching and slowing up, and he dived neath in an endless stream, the keen, ecstatic forward toward it. vines and roots tripped joy in his regained liberty soon changed to a him, thorns and brambles stung him like a sense of dreary monotony, and with the pass- nest of wasps, low branches lashed his face ing hours his unvarying, cramped position into livid welts, but still he reeled ahead. brought acute suffering that at last wore at last he reached the long row of empty coal- down even his dense, unimpressionable cars, scrambled over the side of the nearest nature, so that at times his dull faculties one, and tumbled breathlessly to the floor. awoke to half hysterical ravings. in rational the train backed up a hundred yards and periods he was torn with longing for man's then resumed its way as a brakeman swung help and a deadly fear of capture. that up on the car and dropped beside him. hideous chair was then before him, seemingly “whatcher doin' here?” he growled to the surrounded by millions of electric sparks, haggard-faced man at his feet. the latter's with flashes of death-dealing bolts shooting reply was to grin as a maniac grins and then from it into space. whenever the engine, crouch as if to spring at the other's throat. without abating its flashing speed, scooped “hold on!” yelled the brakeman; "yer kin water from the reservoirs between the rails, ride all right. i don't want t' put yer off.” he was soaked through and through. the moriarty settled back, but his glittering eyes stinging dust blinded him, cinders bored into never left the railroad man, who stood trans- his flesh and scorched his face like hot needles, fixed, with icy waves creeping along his spine. and soon a raging thirst consumed him. in he knew there was murder in that hulking his racking punishment he shrieked aloud, figure. he could see it in the twitching but the grinding wheels gathered up his fingers, in the gleam of those eyes through agonizing scream and ricochetted it back to slitted lids, in the clicking teeth of the orang- him. still he hung on. the sunlight faded. outang jaw, in the bullet head, dovetailed at long intervals the train stopped, and then deep between spreading shoulders—and he came blackened imps who carried torches of made haste to show his good-will. he bent fire which stifled him, and who swung huge over and raised his voice above the roar of hammers against the wheels about him un- the train. til their pounding of the resounding metal “just broke out th’ pen, didn't yer?” rang through his ears and brain in a wild moriarty silently glared at him. “that's all tumult. the weight of the whole car seemed right, pal; keep mum if yer want '. i'm a on his back, his legs could brace no more, and wise gazabo-an' i'm yer friend, at that! his hands had not power left to grip a wet are you listening?” the other nodded. sponge. then—then his teeth closed on a “this down freight always stops here to pick protruding bolt and he held on like a bulldog, up an empty or two. they'll tumble yer as the car pitched from side to side, swerved made this train an'lay fer yer at pough- around curves, and . w on with uncanny keepsie. yer want t go th’ other way. velocity through an inferno of sounds. 'bout two miles below here we pick up more a lifetime of unspeakable misery was near- empties at a sidin' an' th’ chicago express ing its end. the train gradually lessened how moriarty escaped from a drunken man sleeping beside a bill- board and place it on his own head, then lurched on. at a cross street he paused to survey a crowd of men standing under an arc light in front of a barnlike structure. it at- tracted him and then-intuitively—he knew that a prize-fight was taking place inside. “what's doin'?” he asked the nearest man. “looks like a fakerino,” was the dis- gusted reply. “prelims' went off all right, but th' star bout is all t'th' bad. half past 'leven now an' th’ stiff from st. louis what was goin' on tdo a final 'f fifteen with th' chicago 'cyclone' ain't showed up. if he don't flash pretty quick th' mob'll be squealin' fer their mazuma.” moriarty quickly elbowed his way through speed and the hissing air-brakes blocked the wheels to a full stop. he had endured to the utmost of his being. dragging him- self clear he fell helplessly between the rails. the train remained motionless, yet at any moment it might proceed, and as the thought of his extremely precarious position dawned upon him he gritted his teeth and crawled clear of the rails. his feeling of complete exhaustion grew less as his blood quickened into renewed life, and, after two fruitless efforts, he stood waveringly upon his feet. he was in a freight-yard. the flaring engine headlights leered at him men- acingly from the somber night; the rhyth- mic gasp of escaping steam was like the labored panting of hidden monsters; bells rang; cars rattled and smashed against one another, and in front of him myr- iads of electric lights were dancing like fireflies. the railroad depot must be there. the muscles of his legs were twitching through the relaxing of his tense position, but after a few steps he was able to resume his old swagger. a queer sounding bell, striking spasmodically, a long, white bar soaring heavenward, and a heavy truck bounding across the tracks ahead, told him that he was at a grade crossing. he left the ties for the darkened street, one hand clutching the keeper's re- volver, and his eyes, now bright as an owl's, pene- trating hallways and alleys. he stopped once, to remove the hat uck the crowd and stood before the ticket sel- ler, who scowled at the grimy, repellent face framed in the small window. “whatcherwant?” growled the official. “just left me job in th' coal yard,” he answered. “if yer want any one t' go on wi' th’ cyclone—i'm it!” “you?” in exasperated derision; "why, he'd knock yer dead. ever do any scrap- pin'?" “just a few. show me some clothes an' if i don't beat his block off i don't git a sou- he crawled into the thick laurel and alders. everybody's magazine after a hurried conversation within he was him, and he sought to jump, but too late!— escorted to a dressing-room, and while he was those chair arms held him fast as in a vise and making ready he heard the announcer bawl- in another instant the quivering wire had ing the welcome news that the management coiled around him with the speed of light, had arranged a bout between the chicago wrapping him tight with red-hot bands that “cyclone” and an unknown. burned to the bone. the sputtering head of the familiar roar of applause that arose the molten snake struck at the back of his at his appearance was like rich wine to his neck, searing its way to his brain, his eyeballs blood, the smoke-laden atmosphere was sweet split in twain, and his legs were encased in a incense to his nostrils, and he sprang through withering furnace fire of white heat. he the ropes with a set expression of ferocity on caught the odor of sizzling flesh, strove with his ugly face. everything was unchanged one supreme effort to escape the horrible, in- to him except the chair in his corner-for the tolerable torture, and- first time in his ring career he found a seat provided that had arms to it. that was. the bright incandescent light over the funny! a chair with wide arms in a fighter's straining figure in the high-backed chair went corner! well, his handlers didn't seem to out as the current was shut off, and the life- mind it. he thought it was peculiar that less body of moriarty, the murderer, relaxed they should press him back in his chair and limply. the state physician made the usual whisper words of advice in his ears. across death tests and, stepping back, said, with a the ring his antagonist daintily shuffled his sigh of relief: feet in the powdered resin, danced nimbly “well, he's dead at last!” about on his toes, and tested the taut ropes. the attendants unstrapped the warm body overhead the arc lights shed blinding rays and stretched it upon the table. the trem- upon the padded floor, and moriarty noticed bling, white-faced witnesses slowly filed out. that they were fed by a long, swaying wire “never in my experience," declared the that ran from the side of the building. mid- physician, “have i seen such power of resist- way in the air a tiny spark played along its ance as he possessed against the voltage we surface. the twinkling light fascinated him, gave him. these animal-like beings are nat- and though when the gong clanged for the urally incapable of keen, quick impressions. call of time he advanced toward his op- they are not immediately susceptible to pun- ponent in his usual menacing manner, he ishing sensations as are you and i. the was still holding that flashing spark above prize-fighter becomes successful in his pro- with the corner of his eye. fession because a hard blow on the jaw is he feinted, led, countered, and clinched not telegraphed to his brain with the result with the easy mechanical movements of all that would follow were a man of a deli- boxers in every opening round, and returned cate, nervous organism to receive the same unruffled to his corner for the moment's rest blow." all in the usual way, except for an inexpli “doctor, do you imagine these criminals cable desire to keep that bright electric spark suffer any when electrocuted?” asked the overhead within his vision. warden. he grasped the arms of his chair again, “not at all,” he answered; "they never such hard, wide arms!—and then observed know what strikes them.” that the spark had grown larger and was “well, this prize-fighter, moriarty, was a sputtering belligerently in a blue flame. he great surprise to me. we found him moan- gazed at it first in wide-eyed amazement, ing with his head under the bedclothes when watching its increasing glow fearfully with his time came. he was too weak with fright staring eyes, and then fairly shaking with to dress himself. we got him ready and vague terror. suddenly there was a lightning- hurried him here as fast as we could. he like flash, a sharp cracking noise, and the wire lost his nerve completely-in fact, i am sure parted. writhing and snapping, the glowing his mind was wandering. yes, doctor, that end, alive with death-dealing fire, fell toward is all-i am glad it's over.” young tompkins by juliet wilbor. lady haary blachmam vou can say what you like about pov- hateful optimists, who see good in everything; y erty," declared mrs. seaver, substitut- you had a touch of it at college, but i hoped ing a white apron for a blue-checked and a life had cured you.” nanny pulled a cushion baby for a duster with brisk, capable move- from a chair and stretched her thin length ments. “of course, it has its deprivations; on the floor, looking up at her hostess with but i tell you, nanny, it means freedom. moody amusement. “i have seen the poor not dreadful, slum poverty—i don't mean taking their humble pleasures, my dear laura, that; but honest, scrimping, hopeful, one-girl and felt not one pang of envy. i want a full, poverty, like ours." rich, padded life — good-looking, well-bred nanny knelt before the baby and made love people coming and going, and beautiful sur- to his curled-up feet while he stared at her roundings and-and-oh, well, i take my dispassionately over his bottle. poverty philosophically; i don't whine. but “it may be good for your character, but i i am not going to pretend that i like it or that don't see where the freedom comes in,” she i spell freedom that way." objected, lifting heavy, unsatisfied eyes to the mrs. seaver looked down thoughtfully at contented face above her. “why, you can't the small, delicately cut face. the big, rest- even get away from town in summer.” less, gray-black eyes still held the look of “and that is just it—we don't have to," smoldering darkness that had awed and was the triumphant answer. “if we were a allured her at their meeting, nine years ago, little better off, we should be struggling to in the first strangeness of college halls; but the manage it. but, as it is, we have this nice, mouth had learned an ironic smile for smoth- cool little flat, and the square for baby, and ered fires. any number of amusing people to drop in on “do you like your teaching?" she asked us, and ned and i have all sorts of sprees- abruptly. oh, you have no idea what fun the poor have “no. what a silly question!” in summer. we'll show you. it isn't as if they both laughed. “what part of your we hadn't the east wind, you know; we don't life do you like?” laura persisted. “there swelter like new york.”' must be gleams somewhere.” “oh, you are growing into one of those nanny considered. “the half-hour after i everybody's magazine ne get to bed," she said finally. “i can always the bay. two little boys with mouth-organs be a princess in the dark. yes, that half- seated themselves near by and began to play hour almost makes up for everything." rival tunes. presently an ambling and un- “nonsense!” laura exclaimed. “that's clean old man joined them and volunteered morbid. half-hours in bed indeed—and at information about the harbor. then a shrill your age! here, take baby a minute.” game was organized on the bank above them. nanny held out her arms in wide welcome. and yet only an hour and a half had gone by. “what are you going to do?” she asked “did you ever feel anything as heavenly as amusedly. this breeze?” asked laura. "i hate to move, “send for peter croft,” was the emphatic but we really ought to be starting back before reply. very long." “why peter croft?” nanny rose as though on springs. the mrs. seaver paused in the doorway. glare still sent stabbing pains through their “because he is a vagabond, a wanderer on the eyes as they plodded back with the ceaseless face of the earth; because he hasn't a cent to procession over the long pier. the open cars his name, but gets more out of life than any were crowded, but mrs. seaver cleverly found padded millionaire that ever breathed gold seats for both and beamed congratulations as dust; because he can teach you a thing or two, they wedged themselves in. nanny, not to nanny oliver!” appear unappreciative, endured the over- early that afternoon, while the sun was still flowing of the loosely corpulent person beside boring mercilessly through the dense trees of her until his head drooped drowsily toward their little twisted street, the two women came her shoulder; then she sprang up with a out in cool summer dresses, with parasols and shudder. the conductor, grinning, roused magazines. her neighbor. every one was grinning, and “grand people have a complicated time even laura looked amused. nanny set her getting to the seashore, but the poor can just teeth and tried to take an interest in the dingy, go,” laura had boasted. “you'll see.” downtrodden streets with their look of greasy they took an open car that plunged through poverty and their stands of shriveled fruit. squalid streets and smells until, half an hour the clean, fresh little home opened to her like later, it brought them to the water-front; then, a sanctuary. without comment, she flew to with eyes narrowed against the glaring, quiv- the bath-tub. ering light, they followed an interminable “laura says you had a nice excursion this wooden pier that finally deposited them on a afternoon,” ned congratulated her as they sat small green island. on the far side of this down to dinner. they came abruptly upon a surprise: cool blue “at least, i think she enjoyed it,” laura waves were rippling in straight from the ocean, amended. nanny's native frankness could and white sails, slanting past, left a trail of bear no more. romance. the city had completely disap- “well, she didn't!” was the explosiv peared. nanny exclaimed with pleasure. “laura, if you thrust any more humble “didn't i tell you?” laura demanded. pleasures on me, i shall go home by the next “now if we can find a spot a little apart from train! it was horrible. oh, the smells, and the crowd " the jarring voices, and the ugly sights, and the there undeniably was a crowd. they crowd jammed into one, touching one at every settled themselves in a nook that suggested side-i did my best, laura, and i am any- seclusion, but the number of visitors to the thing you want to call me; but if i had to live square yard of island increased with every through it again, i should die!” ten minutes. children ran shrieking across laura laughed ruefully but with perfect their grassy hollow, mothers spread their good nature. shawls to right and left, newspapers and “oh, poor nanny! i am so sorry. but banana skins blossomed in the trodden grass, you must not give up just yet, must she, ned? resounding punishments and stolidly open don't you think, with peter croft to help love-making went on about them; and the educate her—" some expression on her entire island seemed to be eating. husband's face made her pause and glance “it is such a decent, good-humored crowd, over her shoulder. in the doorway behind one doesn't mind it,” said laura. her stood a long, loose figure looking quizzi- “yes,” said nanny, fixing her eyes per- cally down on nanny's dark braids. sistently on the reviving, leaping sapphire of "ah, no, i can't help her," he said as laura young lady started up with a laugh. “she is a young lady, and young ladies don't like the masses.” "remember, it is her first plunge, peter,” laura urged as she introduced him and set a place for him opposite nanny. he shook his head dubiously. “that was perfect young-ladyism, that little cri du cæur i overheard,” he objected. “i am helpless before it. while i was ex- pounding my great doctrines, she would be noting my bad manners.” nanny's eyes met his with a hint of chal- lenge. “that is wholly possible,” she said coolly. "still, if you are a great enough teacher- just what is it you teach?” a smile lit his thin, lined face into a momentary lovableness. “i teach the art of curiosity,” he said, and would explain no further. . a faint breath of coolness had come with evening. after dinner they went eagerly to the windows and leaned out. “peter, take miss oliver out and give her a good time," laura commanded. “i can't leave baby to-night, and ned can't leave me.” mr. croft glanced at nanny in whimsical alarm. “but i don't know how to amuse a young lady," he protested. . . "but it is precisely to cure her of being a young lady that a wise providence has sent her here. do what you like with her, peter; i give you carte blanche and a latch- key." “you dare risk it?” he asked nanny. “if i don't like it, i shall say so," she as- sented. they walked slowly down the little twisting street, the warm darkness, silver-tipped with cool, resting deliciously on their faces and bare hands. "what is a young lady, from your stand- point?” nanny began abruptly. he considered. “i should say it was one in whom the little senses had been developed at the expense of the big sensibilities.” . “the little senses-sights and smells and sounds-oh, yes, then i am absolutely a young lady,” she admitted. “no, not absolutely,” he corrected her. mb lachman of nanny endured tie overilowing of the loosely corpulent person beside her. everybody's magazine “if you were, you would be angry now. apprehension when they turned into an vanity is one of the little senses, you know.” obscure side street and, entering a lighted “oh, i am-furious, only i am too proud to doorway, paused before a ticket window. show it.” he bent his head to glance under the ruddy german within greeted peter her hat brim and their eyes met with amused cordially by name and handed him two tickets serenity. in return for fifty cents. . “no; i begin to consider you a hopeful "up here,” said peter, turning to a bare case,” he decided. “do you like to dance?” and dusty flight of stairs. the strains of a “very much. is that a good symptom or band came to them as they mounted, and the a bad?'. young-lady feet faltered. he smiled but did not explain. they had “what sort of place is it?” the question turned, not toward the trees and the open would come, and it brought him to a halt. places, but into small back streets that brought “perfectly respectable," he assured her, a them presently to a wider thoroughfare where latent twinkle in his eyes. “a german open cars crashed and jolted by crowded with dancing-club—they are friends of mine, so i shirt-waisted women and coatless men, where can get in. but if you " the sidewalk couples strolled in leisurely prom “oh, no," said nanny politely. enade and the windows showed remnants of it undeniably was respectable. she had what had been a crowd still dining at counters a momentary impression of sedate german or at marble-topped tables in a white blaze of faces smiling above high-necked gowns or light. it was curiously stimulating, this great perspiring above every-day coats. then she common stream of life, so complete in itself, forgot everything but her starved love of so indifferent to a passing young lady. dancing. waltz after waltz they danced in nanny liked the lights, the great blocks of ice happy silence; it was like a deep draft of holding clams and the scarlet shine of lobsters something heretofore only tasted. the in- in the windows; the ripple of a belated street- toxication of it was brimming in her eyes piano tempted her feet. a novel sense of when at last they stopped. freedom, coming in part from her linen dress “so the poor do have good times in their and. gloveless hands, gave a touch of reck- way?” he ventured. his eyes kept coming lessness to her gaiety. back to her lighted face. “who are you?" she demanded. “no one “perfectly beautiful!” she laughed at her has explained you to me. do you belong own complete surrender. “and they are all here?” so nice and kind and friendly-everybody “here and everywhere." likes everybody, and i lɔve them all!” “what do you do?”. “ah, and i called you a young lady! for- “for my living? write.” . give me.” “write well?” “what am i now?” “altogether too well. the papers won't his lovable smile warmed and lit his thin, leave me in peace.” lined face. “a remarkably good dancer," “what do you want to do with your peace?” he said. “here comes the master of cere- “live and learn. and teach!” monies. will you meet him?" “teach-young ladies?” “surely. and dance with him, too!” he laughed. “yesterday i should have her elation carried her flying through the said, god forbid!” introduction and presently well out on the “whom, then?” floor in the arms of herr schwartz. and “any one who wants to know the things then a curious thing happened. once out of other people have taught me. i am a clear- sight of peter croft, her gaiety dropped as ing-house for wisdom and experience-by though struck with a stone. cold dismay the grace of curiosity!" clutched at her like a physical illness. what “what shall you do with it all?” was she doing here in this vulgar hall, held “wait ten years and see.” against the stuffy coat of a pompadoured, red- “i suspect that you are trying to arouse the faced barber or grocer, merged in this dread- grace of curiosity in me.” ful, alien crowd? what right had any one to “i wish i could. don't you even wonder put her in such a position-and how came where we are going?” she to be there with a man she had scarcely “oh, i will trust it to you,” she said con- met? she was furious at herself, at peter, at fidently. nevertheless she felt a pang of the seavers. young lady after one turn about the hall she came to a halt. “i am tired," she explained, and looked desperately about for peter. he joined her very soon, but the wait had seemed intermi- nable and she met him coldly. "i wish to go home,” she said, and led the way out, ignoring his presence. peter's keen eyes probed her profile, but his only outer recognition of her mood was to take her home by devious quiet streets, avoid- ing the lighted thoroughfare and the summer- night crowds. he did not talk, and some quieting element of his presence gradually soothed her alarmed fastidiousness and made her even a little ashamed of it. she glanced up at him as they passed a street-lamp, and their eyes met. "i am a young lady," she confessed. “i only like the masses when i'm a little-a little--" “drunk,” he finished, with humorous understanding. "exactly. thank you. but why do i have to like them?” “ah, you don't; but you have to be open to all things human, high or low, to be eternally conscious that-well, that everybody is some- body. once you have realized that, you for get all about liking'-it doesn't matter any more. you may rather love them, that's all.” a slow motion of her head expressed skepticism. “what is it you are going to do in ten years?" she asked. “wait and see!” in the weeks that followed nanny had numberless excursions, up and down the coast by boat, by trolley out into the country, by canoe along a still, moonlit river. she also went to a socialist meeting, a political rally, a police-court monday morning, and a metho- dist tent-meeting. she was frequently in crowds; and when these came too close for her nerves, nanny said scornfully to herself, “young lady!” but peter had a way of deftly putting himself between her and the worst of it. once settled, he was as apt to talk to the stranger on the other side as to her. when this stung she called herself “young lady!” more scornfully than ever, and bent forward to listen and take part. it was good talk, for peter was quite clear as to what he wanted, and knew how to get it. “will it really be ten years before you have written your book?" she asked one day in a casual voice. he started and gave her a sharp look, then answered simply, “ten at least. how did you find me out?” he added presently. she laughed but offered no ex- planation. he talked to her about it some- times, after that, and her respect for him took on a humble admiration. mrs. seaver was openly triumphant about the progress of her education; yet the phe- nomenon that had spoiled the dance still per- sisted. with peter, she found the world full of interesting individuals; without him, these at once became blurred into alien and re- pugnant masses. she was too dreamily happy to ask herself the reason for this. when at last the explanation was thrust upon her, it acted like a sudden draft on a fire that has been stealing unsuspected behind blind walls. peter himself, all unconsciously, supplied it, coming in one evening with an alert air of good news. “lucia is back," he announced. mrs. seaver was enthusiastically glad. “nanny must meet her,” she added. they told her a great deal about lucia that evening. she had been west on behalf of the women's trade-unions, for which she was an ardent worker. she had a wonderful brain-and the dearest, merriest brown eyes-and a nature as big as all outdoors-and she adored the baby-and she understood social conditions better than any woman east of jane addams. laura would have gone on with her part of the duet after peter had left-he stayed only a little while--but nanny escaped to her own room. the smoldering conflagration had leaped out at her from every side and she crouched in the midst, frightened, tortured, and desperately angry. "i won't, i won't,” she cried, her face crushed against the bed, beside which she had flung herself. “it is absurd, impossi- ble. i couldn't lead his life-i don't want to! i have gone mad. that hateful para- gon woman with her trade-unions—i hope he does care for her. that will make it easier to get away. she would probably like living in the slums. oh, the dirt and the smells and the sordid ugliness-” she forced her mind to picture the scenes in which the woman whom peter loved must pass her - life and above the squalor suddenly ap- peared his face, the keen, honorable eyes looking straight into hers. “oh, he is a man,” she exclaimed breathlessly, and the pain caught her again so sharply that she nearly cried out. all the summer glamour had been torn off the world when at last the dawn came. she had decided that she ne everybody's magazine achman together. would not love ing to meet her, peter, and that she caught her breath would go away. away. peter thrust laura combat- out his hands, and ed her intention to Рим even before they leave at once so closed over her vigorously that own she knew with she compromised a stab of joy that on the end of the he too was suffer- week, and felt a ing and fighting. contraband relief from their meet- in the respite. the ing hands the tide first sight of lucia swept up into their —that evening, at faces. then he a meeting on be- drew away from half of women's her almost impa- trade-unions- tiently. was another relief. "i came out for for an hour a breath of air,” nanny stared at began nanny, not the squarely built, knowing what she plain - featured said. woman on the “yes, it is platform with a warm,” he admit- fierce, wicked, and ted stiffly, and inexplicable satis- they walked slow- faction — inexplic- ly down the hill able since she her- self was leaving on "i am a young lady," she confessed. “ah, he's fight- saturday. yet she ing hard, the dar- had scarcely shaken lucia's hand, afterward, ling!” she thought, glad and amused and very when the knife was thrust back into her leftº tender of him. aloud she said pleasantly side with triple force. perhaps it was those that they had missed him. “i am going on kindest, merrièst brown eyes, and the whole- saturday,” she added, glancing up to see how souled sweetness of the mouth beneath them; deeply it hurt. perhaps it was some intangible look in them “i am very sorry to hear it,” he said com- when they were turned on peter, or the vast posedly. this was fighting rather too well. amount he and she had to say to each other moreover, he had turned back at the end of when the crowd gave them a chance. the block as though to deposit her at her door “isn't she splendid?” murmured laura as as quickly as possible. they stepped back to make room for others. “won't you give me a last adventure?" she “she would be perfect for peter, wouldn't asked. “i am sure you haven't wholly finished she?-only he is too thorough a vagabond to my education-have you? i want something marry, i am afraid.” exciting this time, something i shall always peter did not come near them for three remember,” she went on. “a fire or a mur- days; and she was leaving on saturday. on der, perhaps. can't you manage it for me?” the third evening, when the hour for expecting “why, i think i can find something of the him had gone by, nanny slipped out by her- sort." his voice was persistently dry. “i self and walked slowly down the little twisted will look it up." street. she did not know where she was “do you think i am any less of a young going; she simply said to herself that she lady?” she pleaded. “couldn't bear it.” “decidedly less-almost cured; i should half-way down the second block a long think. though perhaps it is i that am turn- figure was leaning against the trunk of a ing into a young gentleman,” he added with horse-chestnut. he lifted a pale, lined, tired an irritable jerk of his shoulder. she laughed face at her step. at the idea, with a deeper note for what was “nanny!” the smothered word, spring- implied. young lady "i don't believe you are,” she said mildly. a pool-room did not look so very dreadful “no. i am a vagabond to the end. i at first sight. there was a crowd of men, have no right to be anything else, and no here and there a woman; a blackboard with a desire. it is my life. good night.” list of names; a sort of booth with a window, he shook her hand briefly and left her with- through which the man within seemed to be out a glance. nanny slipped undiscovered doing brisk business. nanny understood into her own room and when she had closed nothing except that she and peter had both the door stood motionless in the darkness for backed a horse named blackberry, whose a blind interval. then she roused herself prowess was to be transmitted from telephone with a long sigh. to blackboard. the crowd interested her far “she is worth six of me, that lucia," she more than her stake-shabby derelicts, cheap said, half aloud. “she is the right person for sports, vapid, unwashed young men, a stout, him. i'm not. and he knows it. but just overdressed woman who breathed audibly as the same”- she caught her breath sharply, the writing on the wall progressed, a little “i can be anything on earth, if he cares! if bent italian who scowled so heavily at peter i can have him, i promise by everything that that she drew his attention to it. binds promises that i will give him what she “oh, yes, joe hates me all right,” he said would give.” her hands caught and clung indifferently. “i bore witness against him to each other. “oh, there's nobody like in a police court not long ago. do you him!” she whispered. realize that blackberry has drawn the rail?” he was his usual alert, kindly, impersonal “too bad,” said nanny vaguely, and re- self when he came for her early the next flected without understanding his sudden afternoon. she would have been cast down smile. her eyes went back to the italian, but for the tired lines about his eyes and who was whispering vehemently to the man mouth. in the booth with a quick jerk of his head “you said you wanted an adventure," he toward peter. she heard the answer: reminded her warningly as they set out. “oh, he's all right, joe; he's with us. i “so i do.” know him like a book. don't you worry.” “very well. do you know what a pool- the words recalled to her with a start of room is?” fright the reason for their presence. for the “something that is always being raided by moment she had blessedly forgotten the the police.” coming raid. suspense was always as in- he laughed. “exactly. it is a place tolerable to her as bodily pain; moreover, she where people bet on the races, and is contrary felt ashamed, as if she were meanly conspiring to the law. now can you guess?" against these unsuspecting waifs and strays. “we are to see a raid!” after that, every opening of the door, every “we are. i don't as a rule have anything movement of the crowd, brought a cold wave to do with the police--it would hamper me; of apprehension. the excitement before the but i have an intimate at headquarters and blackboard grew more intense, there were he put me on to this. whoever is caught, you muttered exclamations, now and then a know, we sha'n't be. that is all arranged. smothered cheer, but her blurred senses could only we shall have to dash for liberty as not take in what was written nor follow what briskly as anybody, for the sake of appear- was said; she could only wait in blind terror. ances. does that meet your requirements?” she longed unspeakably to go away; but it so much more than met them that for the pride, and the fact that she was standing moment nanny was appalled. all her joy in close beside peter, kept her there, white but peter was needed to keep her spirits up as outwardly composed. they turned to obscure back streets under a “well, blackberry wasn't among the also- soft gray sky of coming rain. rans, anyway,” said peter. “shall we try a commonplace brick house admitted them morgana or- to what seemed to be merely a cheap restau- it was coming. her strained senses divined rant. a little stealing excitement began to rather than heard scurry and confusion in lift nanny above her inner repugnance to her the house below. surroundings as she followed peter along a “o peter!” she gasped, thrusting her passage and up a steep flight of back stairs, hand into his. at the top a youth threw back a door with a through the door was flung a warning word of recognition for peter. exclamation that seemed to explode like everybody's magazine a bomb in the compact crowd, scattering it whispered. the hand on her knee was mutely into a dozen scrambling batches. men took begging, and she put one of hers into it. desperately to the fire-escape and the passages “it isn't that i could not provide properly as heavy boots came trampling up with the for my wife," he went on presently. “god bold stride of the law. peter whirled nanny knows, i could—i could earn a good living through a side door and up a breathlessly any moment. but i have no right to. i steep aight to an attic in the wake of a dozen have set myself to a piece of work; dearest flying. men and women. up the ladder to the woman, i can't turn away from it. can you roof they swarmed, swearing, panting, trip- understand?” the hand within his seemed ping, and stumbling. very small and cold, and he bent his cheek rain was already pattering on the roof. to it. “the board and roof i could offer are they ran along it in crouching file between not fit for you, nanny. i have fought it all lines of clothes ostensibly hung there to dry, out. don't let us—" his voice faltered. and popped down like gophers through the “o peter, they are fit,” she cried, sud- open scuttle-hole of the next house. peter, denly finding her strength. “don't you scrambling down, swung nanny to her feet suppose i have fought it out, too? there beside him and they stood facing each other isn't one inch of your life too hard or too poor in the mellow brown dusk of an empty garret, or too ugly for me. i should not ask one thing breathless with laughter. then the scuttle more. how can i make you believe me?" darkened, and nanny saw the bent form of he had drawn away his hand and they con- the italian for an instant against the gray sky. fronted each other through the brown dusk “peter, look out!” she called with a swift in a silence broken only by the rain on the intuition of danger. she saw a quick swing roof while a flash of hope sprang up in his of joe's arm as he flashed down the ladder, eyes, then died away again. and there was a sound of a blow, dull but “you think so now," he said sadly. ominous. then he was swallowed down a “when it was too late—for god's sake, black opening, and peter lay crumpled at nanny, don't tempt me, don't make it too her feet. hard. have you grown to like the sort of when peter came drifting back from long surroundings where i must spend my life?”. reaches of darkness, he found himself lying "no." she paused, gathering herself to- in passionately tender arms, while a white gether for, one great effort. “let me say face, wet with tears and wholly unconscious: everything, just once. don't interrupt till i of them, bent over him. it was very good have finished, and then i won't say another he closed his eyes again with a deep breath of word, whatever you decide. no-i have to content and pressed his cheek closer to the be honest with you, i haven't grown to like soft shoulder that mothered him.' then with your surroundings; i've only grown not to the realization of an ache in his head came care what i like or don't like. my little senses other unpleasant realizations. he drew him- have been swallowed up, not in—what did you self up somewhat giddily, propping himself call it?-my big sensibilities, but in you—in against the ladder, and attempted a smile. you. ah, no one will ever give you a bigger love "well, joe got even,” he commented, feel than this—you can't let it go. and it wouldn't ing his head with cautious fingers. “glad be a burden--i should be a wise lover, dear- he didn't use a knife.” est; only you have to see it all just this once. "i am afraid you are badly hurt.” nanny's “now listen. the promises of the marriage voice was helplessly unsteady. service will be so many wasted words from “oh, no, thanks to you. i turned when me to you; i could no more help loving and you called out and the blow glanced. i shall honoring and obeying you than i could help be all right in a moment or two, if you don't breathing. but here is my real marriage vow mind waiting in this vile place." to you”-she was kneeling beside him, her “i don't mind anything on earth if you're hands clasped against her breast: “i, anna, not hurt”; and she dropped her face into her solemnly and in the sight of god, dedicate hands. he watched her in silent distress for myself, my love, and my labor to your work. a moment. then, as though he could bear it i promise to serve it both by deed and by no longer, he laid his hand on her knee. forbearance to the uttermost limit of my “ah, nanny, nanny, why am i a vagabond strength, from this time forth and forever- and you a lady!” more. and thereunto i plight thee my “but i am not, i'm not any longer,” she troth.” tears sprang to her eyes. “oh, i frightened, tortured, and desperately angry. know what it means, what it will cost-i am her palms were pressed against his coat, not afraid! and you will go farther and her eyes lifted to his, all their dark fires ablaze faster because there is some one who believes at last. the white humility of his face was in you like this. don't you see that? and if burned away in an answering flame. as he, ever i fail you, if i forget, you can say to me, bent toward her she crept into his arms, to you have broken your marriage vows and lie there very still while the summer rain beat vou must go away.' and i will go away and on the roof, taking unto itself for all their stay until i am worthy to come back. my lives a marvelous sound of heavily beating great love, isn't this—all?” hearts. is there an american type of feminine beauty? being an excursion into the unknown by james huneker author of "iconoclasts-a book of dramatists," "visionaries," etc. illustrated with photographs of the principal winners of the state beauty contests conducted by newspapers ts there an american type hesitates in declaring his prefer- i of feminine beauty? the ences as to his mother's sex is question has been often asked, lost. we either view his judg- although never answered in a ments suspiciously or reject satisfactory manner. i frankly them outright. consider the admit that i shall not make a present writer with a merciful, new attempt, for several rea- even pitying eye. he can swear sons; ' the principal one being that for him there are no ugly an inability to comprehend the girls; some are prettier than oth- meaning of the word "type.” ers. (this epigram was first this is not a quibble over its etymology; rather uttered in the praise of fire-water-alas!) a disbelief in any such thing. old flaubert therefore he is precisely the kind of man who swore, when any one spoke of synonyms. should not write about feminine types. each “there are no synonyms!” he grumbled. woman is of her own type. she is an indi- when we say of a woman that she is of a vidual entity. we did not have to wait for certain type of beauty we are only adopting max stirner to apprise us of this platitude. a formula of the lazy-minded. no two per- in america to disentangle the swarm of races sons are alike on our globe; yet for the sake of is a heavy enough task, without accounting for convenience we speak of racial type. it is a the innumerable specimens that fire the brains method of scientific stenography, invaluable to and blood of young men. let us, taking our the ethnographer who deals in broad group- courage in our trembling hands, venture upon ings of the human race, but misleading for a rash undertaking. let us forget the talk those students who see in each soul a distinct about types and utilize as a starting point a re- cosmos. and when you say “the american cent feminine manifestation in this country- type of beauty” you further complicate the the “most beautiful girl” contest started by question: admitting that there is a type, how the new york sunday world and the chicago hopeless it is to search for it in the whirlpool of tribune. we may, peradventure, compass nationalities boiling over our continent. the our end by this elliptical, withal dangerous, american woman is recognized at once in eu- route. rope because of her gowns and good looks. this is not the time to delve into antique yet there are in america several women who tales of beauty "contests.” doubtless there are neither “stylish” nor beautiful. what is were experiments made in this perilous game she, then, this american "type"? is she a long before paris awarded the apple; or be- product of kentucky or must she hail from fore phryne, a "one-woman show," provoked baltimore? does chicago send her across the critical ardor of her judges on the sea the waters to dazzle british peers, or has strand. in a sense the medieval courts of love new york that monopoly? perhaps the girl were beauty tournaments. and it is unneces- of the golden west! perhaps the cerebral sary to recall the joyous deeds of derring-do, beauty from new england! perhaps— ! the doughty feats of arms undertaken to vindi- but this fumbling at classification is a sure cate the tastes of gallant knights. all beauty sign of masculine weakness. the man who contests these, in a simple forthright style. it is there an american type of feminine beauty ? yet remains for america to produce a newer that the photographs of the various winners version. the beauty contest by committee were acknowledged to be sufficiently lifelike. we have; why not let the readers of the i confess i prefer the old-fashioned beauty ubiquitous sunday newspapers vote for their contests of st. louis or new orleans, of idea of feminine beauty? it would be an in- vienna or arles, where the woman, life size, spiring spectacle. it would prove that the radiant, smiling, vital, walks before the en- torch of the ideal, still alight, is being passed raptured eyes of the judges. at arles, years down the corridor of the ages. it would be ago, i participated in a local contest and saw also a testimony to our highly developed ar some of the handsomest creatures in the tistic sense. what could be a more astonish- world, women who had by a miracle retained ingly easy way to solve the hitherto insoluble the roman cast of features, the proud roman problem—who is the most beautiful girl?— bearing. small in head, elastic of carriage, than to vote en masse on the question? demo- wide-hipped, with sloping shoulders, they cratic institutions would be thereby vindicated, paraded in their poor finery like goddesses and emerson, with his crude notions on the suddenly descended from the clouds; while subject of individual selection, taste and cul the men of the place, for the most part under- ture, would be completely confuted. sized and ugly, were wofully lacking in interest. but already the newspapers, assisted by picture to yourselves this wholly human modern photography, have added one pro fashion of deciding such a momentous ques- gressive feature: they have made the beauty tion-and what can be more momentous for contest comprehensive. beautiful girls all the human race than the beauty of women?- over the united states, from gloucester to the transposed to america, and, in some intimate golden gate, were publicly invited to enter amphitheatre, where one would not have to use into this friendly competition. their photo a celestial eyepiece to an opera-glass, let us graphs were begged and were forthcoming. assemble five hundred or a thousand beauti- not portraits in oil nor black-and-white, but ful women. pagan as is the proceeding, it the tale-telling photograph. nor were full would attract an audience bigger than a lengths as welcome as vignettes or profiles. wagner music-drama at bayreuth. then everything that might tempt or mislead the let an ideal jury be selected to render judg- guileless committees astray from draconian ment, a jury composed of master painters judgments was sternly suppressed. and writers who are noted for their predi- after the signal had been flashed over the lection in matters feminine, genuine critics land the response was cataclysmic. letter and admirers of the sex. henry james, carriers staggered under gigantic burdens. george moore, d'annunzio, paul bourget, special mail deliveries were inaugurated. paul hervieu-all féministes, as the literary wailings were heard at midnight in rural and slang has it; john sargent, boldini, zuloaga, metropolitan post-offices. it was like a blight, zorn, renoir, degas, for the painters, six these tons of photographs in newspaper build- men who have interpreted the charms and the ings. park row was aghast when over forty defects of women of many climes, each ac- thousand cardboards were dumped on the cording to his temperament. and as fore- world sidewalks. the curiosity of men was man of this extraordinary jury, president stimulated. were there forty thousand beau- theodore roosevelt, conservator of the hearth tiful girls in new york state? and if so— and cradle. (little danger of the anemic where? the ungallant query never reached woman being a winner under his eagle gaze; the types, but without being put under oath, brunhildes and walt whitmanic amazons some of the juries on selection timidly ad would have a sure chance of victory.) are mitted that-that-well, that all of the forty- you doubtful that the result would be mag- odd thousand were not peerless beauties. nificent? what a standard would be set for naturally i am not responsible for this state- future generations. no woman could pass ment, nor do i credit it. henry james without having her speech and the chief question is: how can you judge deportment subjected to keen examination. a woman by a photograph? no hesitation was what subtleties of temperament would not shown, as these portraits prove. setting aside george moore demand! d'annunzio would as slanderous openly expressed hints that a not be satisfied unless there were a dash of photograph may be so retouched, manipu- the exotic; while bourget and hervieu could lated and altered that a mother would not pass no one woman if she did not possess so- recognize her daughter, it must be conceded cial grace and moral perfection. the paint- everybody's magazine ers would be less concerned with things below er; the sexes are perfectly poised. (it is the the surface; for them, and rightly too, beauty man of the twentieth century who, trembling- is only skin deep. sargent would see that his ly, makes this assertion; a hundred years ear- selections were big, handsome, florid; boldini, lier the woman was the claimant—thanks to that they were capricious and chic; zuloaga, the courageous mary wollstonecraft god- that they were brunettes with coal-black hair, win.) the greater variational tendency of sparkling eyes, and the indolent swing of the man has made our civilization what it seville; zorn, that they were massive, broad- is. woman is more precocious, more rapid bosomed, bucolic junos; renoir, that they in growth, and her development is arrested were melting, luscious, dazzling in hue; degas earlier. as ellis says: "the subjugation of would search for character, for the clean- nature by man has often practically involved limbed, vivacious, wiry woman whose very the subjugation, physical and mental, of meagerness reveals special beauties. and women by men. the periods of society most theodore roosevelt, swinging his presiden- favorable for women appear, judging from tial club, would cry aloud: “you have, all the experiences of the past, to be somewhat of you, but selected the american woman. she primitive periods in which the militant ten- is the composite of all your types. the ameri- dency is not strongly marked. very militant can woman wins the universal prize. let there periods and those so-called advanced periods be peace!” the millennium would occur soon in which the complicated and artificial prod- after this event. ucts of the variational tendency of men were how barbarously remote seems the mascu held in chief honor, are not favorable to the line attitude of gavarni, who responded to freedom and expansion of women. greece goncourt's question whether he ever really and rome, the favorite types of civiliza- understood a woman: “woman is quite im- tion, bring before us emphatically masculine penetrable, not because she is deep, but be states of culture. morgan has remarked that cause she is hollow.” goncourt capped this the fall of classic civilization was due to cruel remark by stating that “there are no the failure to develop women. but women women of genius; the women of genius are never could have been brought into line with men.” such examples of feminine genius as classic civilization without transforming it sappho, erinna, hypatia, mrs. browning, entirely. ... the hope of our future civiliza- christina rossetti, st. teresa, madame de tion lies in the development in equal freedom staël, george sand, jane austen, charlotte of both the masculine and feminine elements and emily brontë, george eliot, duse, miss in life. ... in the saying with which goethe herschel, mrs. somerville, sonia kovalevsky, closed his ‘faust' ('the woman-soul leadeth constance naden, berthe morisotto men- us upward and on,') lies a biological verity tion a few-refute schopenhauer's claim that not usually suspected by those who quote it." women are the unesthetic or unscientific sex. but what has all this to do with the ameri- yet even to-day tertullian's description of can type of beauty? everything. america woman as janua diaboli still persists. it was is the field in which will be harmoniously ad- the medieval idea. justed the differences of das ewig-weibliche if lombroso by a series of tests tried to and the eternal domineering male. woman is prove that woman was man's inferior in sen- not inferior to man but different from him, as sibility (her capacity for enduring suffering stendhal would say. nevertheless the two being construed as a tactile deficiency, not sexes are slowly approaching. the man of to- as superior personal bravery), in hearing, see- day is more feminine than his predecessors; ing, touching, tasting-in the perception of that is, he is more gentle, civilized; while the odors she was allowed not to be man's inferior woman, casting away old-fashioned encrust- -professor jastrow demonstrated almost the ing prejudices, is more masculine; i. e., she is opposite. the time has gone by, and forever, not only more athletic in her tastes than her when man can call woman "undeveloped grandmother-she is mentally broader and man.” women are nearer to children than firmer in her judgments. (some day she will men; but do not let us forget that the child be so far evolved” that she will be charitable represents a higher degree of evolution than to her own sex.) the franker association of the adult; for, as havelock ellis puts it, “the the sexes has proved tonic to the woman, re- progress of the race has been a progress in fining to the man. these are schoolboy youthfulness.” it is, nevertheless, absurd to truisms, but they will always stand quotation. speak of the superiority of one sex over anoth- and america, as a vast and roaring emigra- photograph by adeline de lux, denver. copyrighi, , by the post printing and publishing co., denver, col. miss marguerite frey, colorado. everybody's magazine tional conflu- irish descent, ence which of german catches and re- blood, an occa- tains peoplessional french- from every woman, a stray where, is also italian, and, of an educational course, numer- center never ous representa- ending in its tives of the labors. semitic race. women from norwegian, italy, women swede, dane photograph by linasuy. copyright, , by the boston llerald co. miss m. e. sylvain, photography i huse, copyright, , by the salt lake tribune. miss nettie b. crowther, utah. new england. copyrighi, , by the press publishing co., new york. miss ethel mcdonald, new york from hungary, the russian woman who treads the steer- age deck barefoot and the woman who hails from scan- dinavia; the hebrew and the slav, huns, croats, czechs, servians; also women from ireland, germany, spain, france, belgium, holland, switzerland, finland, and england-they all come here, and in a day, a week, a month, a year, are transformed. they are become american women. twenty-five years ago you could walk the streets of new york and note women of steered westward; you can see their ruddy-cheeked, faxen- haired descendants in the middle west, in wisconsin and adjacent states. there were few italians in new york as compared with the large and increasing popula- tion of to-day. the slavic army was just beginning to stir; now it is covering the land locust-like. blonde women (real blondes) were far from rare; a careless ob- server can see at the present that american women in pig- miss pearl sebolt, cleveland. mentation are becoming photogrph by bakudy. berter. copyright, , by the cleveland leader. is there an american type of feminine beauty ? darker. up in new england, out in certain parts of the west, the thin, nervous, plain- featured, earnest, un- derfedand overworked female was in the ma- jority. her voice reached us across picket fences, her hand was in every pie. above all, she sang in church on sundays! when mr. james and mr. howells began to write of her she was already va nishing. where has she gone? you encounter iso- lated specimens to- day; and her feminine contemporaries make photograph by charles (. smith. copyright, , by buffalo times. miss pearl meyer, buffalo. conscience. every decade is adding its quota of derange- ment of the normal national woman-as we once saw her. what has become of this average american woman? where is the waist of yester-year? women's hands and feet are larger; the skeletal for- mation is said to be bigger. they are not afraid of the winds that tan, the sun that freckles. they motor and golf; they swim, row, wres- tle. they play chopin, de- spite all these things- mirabile dictu! they stand the strain of col- lege study, and there seems to be no marked diminution in the birth rate. they are taller, broader of chest, and their eye is as soft as their mother's (for the happy chap, of course). is there an american type? it would seem so, after these state- ments. unluckily for the statistician, the same girl may be seen to-day in germany, in england, ireland, scotland, france, italy, austria. north- ern women are of splendid physique. the truth is that the feminine movement is world-wide. i have seen the supposed languid italian women swim, fence, ride bicycles and horses. play tennis with a young german woman in berlin and remark her supple wrist, her energetic manner of exclaiming “love!” no, robustness is not the key to that riddle we call “the american type.” isn't it rather her calm attitude toward the facts of creation that makes her distinctly american? we are sick of photograph by stein. copyright, , by the sentinel co., milwaukee, photograph by montrose. copyright, , by the columbus dispatch. miss florence clure, columbus. photograph by hansbury. copyright, .by the philadelphia inquirer. miss carrie l. shaw, philadelphia. miss gabriella worsley, wisconsin (first prize). everybody's magazine hearing that she wears her clothes better than ica. a quarter of a century ago, or a half all the world; that all the world envies and century, the german hebrews were in the imitates her. what availeth it if a woman majority of emigrants; to-day it is the russian- garb becomingly and sport a vacuous mind? polish. haggard, persecuted, of miserable physique, exploited even now on the east side, nevertheless they struggle toward the light. they educate their children. they develop their artistic gifts —who knows? they may be the artistic leaven in the huge loaf of prosperous american philistinism. the children of the men who reached our shores poor and ambitious a few dec- ades ago may be seen at the saturday theater matinées, at piano recitals, wagner operas, and picture galleries. they are dressed like parisiennes, but their eyes and coloring are of the east. their children will not be puritanic. america will profit, has profited by this exotic strain; art has been bene- fited. in this conglomerate we recognize italian, semitic, celt, slavic, little english or french, much scandinavian. where is the american type? ask a cen- tury hence. the original yan- kee man and woman, the descen- dants of those who fought in the revolution, will soon be as ex- tinct as thedodo. even the direc- tory is losing its familiar ameri- miss martha a. prouty, massachusetts. can names. some day there may be a japanese president. whether it is the climate, or the tradition c old-blooded physicians say that mankind of independence (which ruins in forty-eight is as old as its arteries. the regulation hours after landing the best servants in the aphorism is, that a man is as old as he feels, world), or the mental training in our schools, a woman as she looks. in america this certainly the american woman does not think could be thus amended: a woman is as old in the same way as the women of other races. as her figure, a man as old as his eyes; the she reads the newspapers more frequently. advent of fat in the one and the absence of mr. james questions her pronunciation; but fire in the other, tell tales of the approaching she continues to discuss every problem of end. any verdict that we might be disposed creation with unfailing volubility. to pass upon the faces of the two dozen and as to her outward appearance, we believe more women of the national beauty contest that she will approximate more to the slavic is balked by the fact that we see only their and the italian in fifty years than to anglo- faces. but they are a comely lot of young saxon or celt. but there is the solid founda- women, the majority from the so-called tional support of teutonicand dutch-health, “middle class” of life, therefore the salt of sanity, common sense, thrift. more marvel- our country. many of them are said to ous still is the racial conquest of the semitic. work for their bread; but they do not betray in no country have hebrew physical peculiar- this by any meek or lowly airs. several are ities been so profoundly modified as in amer- married. almost every style of girl is repre- photograph by litchfield studio, arlington, mass. copyright, , by the boston herald co. is there an american type of feminine beauty ? sented. the new york phia girl is a vision, sure- miss has wide-open eyes of ly born south of market wonder—at least, in the street; while the girl from photograph; there is the san francisco wears "an girl with the exquisite pro- air of combed resignation” file, and jane hading hair; -as maurice hewlett has a maxine elliott girl gazes it. she has also the strange with eloquent dark eyes; air that ethel barrymore there is a farmer's daughter made popular. is the salt from ohio who looks like a lake city girl representa- newport aristocrat; grave tive—she of the edna may girls, languorous girls with coiffure? what of the co- tip-tilted noses, girls that hasset beauty with the swan are intellectual, girls with neck and patrician pose! the eyes of princesses, girls if the st. louis girl does who might be perditas- not go on the stage, then one has the delicate, pure hair and eyes and oval face profile of mary anderson- count for naught. new a chicago girl who has copyright, , óy the san francisco call. hampshire does not look studied ibsen, maternal yankee. st. paul looks as girls and saucy—what man- if reared in new york. ner of girl is not present again are we bewildered in ihis medley of maidenhood and matri- by the variety, by the evidences of social monial ambitions? sadie martinot of ten adaptability. the american woman is a years ago seems to be here; the philadel- social evolutionist. to speak plainly, how- photograph by bushnell. miss hazel tharsing, california. photograph by rinehart. copyright by omaha daily news. miss mae bovee, nebraska. photograph by rosch. photograph by rembrandt. copyright, , by publishers: george knapp & co. (st. louis copyright, , by publishers: george knapp & co. (st. louis republic.) republic.) miss jeannette wilson, missouri. mrs. eugene h. schlange, missouri. (first prize.) (second prize.) ever, there are few in the a happier balanced tem- list that suggest distinction; perament. she is poetic, american women are gen- she is sane. i once said erally too strenuous to that her dimple—that cleft aim for that highest prize in her finely modeled chin which is something more —was her destiny. this than culture, something sadly impertinent remark less than beauty. few, i withdraw—it is the pro- too, show eyelids, which, mulgation of her rare voice as alice meynell declares, that is her destiny; that give the real eloquence to mellow, musical speech of the glance. “there are hers in the accents of no windows of the soul, which there is no spoor of there are only curtains.” america provincial. her and i should have liked voice is not so poignant as to see the hands, the true duse's, but it is moving index of character; the and expressive. nazimova hands, which are so sig- stands before you the photograph or charles h. allen, copyright, , by the evening neus association. epitome of the semitic- miss mildred a. baldwin, michigan. we cover all except them slavic. she is a tiger cat and our face. and why in the leash of art. a the absence of ears? how- hundred nuances are at soever, why look a gift her control; she plays up- photograph askance? on her temperament as three pictures stand on does a violinist on his my desk. one is of duse, strings. she vibrates, she taken at genoa; one of rages, she is cruel, sleek, julia marlowe; the third subtle, never tender. of alla nazimova. the these three women are for- first is the mater dolorosa eign born: italy, england, of our days; in her features russia. they are very un- is embodied the suffering american. yet i am not of highly constituted wom- afraid to write that they an, for whom existence is might have been, all three, like an open wound; the born here and accepted as woman with nerves and copyright, , by the sentinel co., milwaukee. american “types,” so cos- heart. julia marlowe is miss nellie hunt, wisconsin. (second prize.) mopolitan is our land. home and photograph by garrell. is there an american type of feminine beauty? that most men when writing of women be- wore regal shabby robes. she sang chopin's tray an obtuseness almost monumental, i have “maiden's wish” in a quavering, sweet, true helped to demonstrate in the foregoing pages. voice that brought tears to one's eyes. she consequently i shall not answer the very per- tinkled with a still small touch a field photograph by matsene. copyright, , by the chicago tribune co. miss della carson, chicago. tinent question: which american girl do i admire the most in this bevy? wild auto- mobiles shall not drag from me such a fatal admission; besides, it does not very much matter. the tact of omission i do not possess in things feminine. i recall an afternoon at auteuil, near paris, a few years ago, when i met some superannuated ladies and gentle- men, inmates of one of those benevolent fondations, in which france knows so well how to cloak offensive charity. the company was of noble origin, though decayed because of fortune's ill favor. among the rest was a marquise, a polish dame, with lovely white hair and brilliant eyes. she nocturne upon a pianoforte whose ivory keys looked as if they could exhale yellow sighs. she coquetted gently, with a touch of polish evasiveness. she was adorable, though if she had smiled her face would have cracked like rembrandt's “hille bobbe" at the metro- politan museum. yet she was adorable, was this diane de poitiers of the nineteenth century. what fire, malice wit in the glance of her faded blue eyes! she was at least eighty. what a magically youthful heart she had! in america a woman's heart usu- ally grows old before her waist. and there you are! as that mas- ter metaphysician of fiction, henry james, so often remarks. laviafe the ship drove through a sea of rearing horses, and naked, shrieking humanity. -" e adenturer." the adventurer by lloyd osbourne joint author with robert louis stevenson of “ the il’recker" and "the ebb-tide"; author of “motormaniacs,” “ baby bullet,” etc. illustration by l. a. shafer synopsis of previous instalments.-lewis kirkpatrick, by nature a wanderer and adventurer, is stranded in london. hunting gloomily through the newspaper "want" columns, he comes upon a singular advertisement, signed “desperate enterprise," calling for well-educated young men inured to hardship and danger. kirk applies; and after an anxious, hungry wait, receives an answer appointing an interview with a man wearing a green tie, at a vienna bakery. arrived there, he finds a mr. smith, who puts him through a stiff examination, and appoints a second meeting. on the following morning, friday, kirk presents himself at the designated house, where he passes a severe medical examination and, as the third test, receives a hun- dred-pound note, which he is to return intact on monday afternoon. having sewed the note into his waistcoat, he settles for the night on a park bench, for he has less than two shillings to live on. here he falls asleep and is attacked by thieves, who kick him into insensibility just as the police arrive. he regains consciousness on sunday in a hospital, and finds that his clothes have been given by mistake to a discharged patient named betts. he at once seeks out betts and bullies him into confessing that he had found the note and had spent eight pounds of it, which he could not repay. kirk forces him to give up what he has, and then makes an appeal to homer kittredge, the literary lion of london, who willingly completes the hundred pounds. triumphant, kirk returns to mr. smith and is given a ticket to a port in the west indies, but no clue to the nature of the “desperate enter- prise." indeed, it is not until the day after reaching port-ot-spain t aching port-of-spain that he receives directions to proceed up the orinoco. on the same boat with him is a miss westbrook whom kirk had seen, disguised as a housemaid, at mr. smith's. shortly after sailing she begs his protection, letting him understand that she is in some way con- nected with the mystery. an intimate comradeship, soon deepening to love on kirk's part, is established between them, and lasts throughout the long journey by boat and wagon into the heart of south america. they are not separated until their arrival, on a dark night, at their destination, a sort of military camp called felicidad. before dawn, kirk is up investigating, and at length finds out part of the long-guarded secret. for he comes upon an enormous, but uncompleted, land-ship, built of aluminum, and evidently designed to traverse the vast south american savannas. at the mess-tent, he learns that the ship is the property of a queer old american woman, and that the inventor and one of the leaders is vera westbrook's father. kirk is put to work, and, becoming a favorite with the captain, is appointed second officer of the ship. three days later, in the midst of a threatening storm, the “ fortuna" sails. the same evening the men threaten to put back the ship if the object of the expedition is not revealed. thereupon one of the leaders tells them they are bound for an ancient city in the ruins of which he himself, when a captive of the indians, discovered a vast treasure in gold ingots. chapter xvi (continued) division of our profits. if mr. allen would kindly stop talking to mr. brice, i think my ton zedtwitz took his seat amid labors would be facilitated. that's all right, 'new outbursts of cheering. the men, mr. allen! and those other gentlemen at in their enthusiasm, pressed forward and the back! thank you. well, i shall now crowded about him-clapping him on the outline roughly what we consider an equi- back, shaking his hands, and lustily vocif- table arrangement for all parties. first, there erating their good-will with lungs of brass. is a royalty of five per cent. due, by special it was some time before westbrook, beating arrangement, to the government of vene- his fist on the table for silence, was able to zuela. strictly speaking, president castro is make his voice heard above the din. not entitled to a penny, as cassiquiare lies “please, please," he protested. “gentle- outside the venezuelan frontiers, in a deba- men, come to order!” table territory claimed also by brazil and the noise subsided. the men scrambled colombia. but the venezuelans have shown back to their former positions about the us great consideration, particularly in afford- mainmast, laughing and skylarking with ing us the free and unhampered passage of boisterous good nature. they were bub- our material. second, the cost of the ex- bling over with high spirits, and were as un- pedition must be charged against the capital ruly as a pack of schoolboys. account. this cost is an immense sum, not “now, gentlemen,” continued westbrook, yet accurately defined, but it cannot be much “let us proceed to financial details. doubt under half a million dollars. deducting these less you will be interested in the proposed two items, twenty-five per cent. of the resi- everybody's magazine due should go to mrs. poulteney hitchcock; twenty-five per cent. to dr. von zedtwitz; and we shall apportion the remaining fifty per cent. as follows: to myself, fifty shares; to captain jackson, fifteen shares; to the first officer, mr. haines, and mr. crawshaw, chief engineer, each five shares; to the second officer, mr. kirkpatrick, three shares; to mr. mccann and dr. phillips, each three shares; to all petty officers one and a half shares; to everyone else, one share. we shall give to the heirs of those who have died, or who may die, before the expiration of the expedition, one-half of the share that the de- ceased member would have been credited with. should any officer or petty officer be disrated, he will receive the share due to his lower rank. we shall add together the total of the shares, and by this number divide the general sum at our disposal. in the event of our safe return, i propose, before the ac- counts be worked out accurately, to advance from my private purse ten per cent. of the amount approximately due to each man. in conclusion, let me say that i shall be happy to answer any questions.” “how about them fellows in felicidad?” piped up some one. “what is there in it for them, mister?” “oh, they will share just as we do. did i not make that plain? it surely would not be right to penalize them, and we don't propose to do so. any other question?” “may i speak?” asked beale. “why, certainly-go ahead.” “what's our guarantee that this arrange- ment will be lived up to? a verbal agree- ment doesn't count for a row of pins. speaking for the lower deck, i think it ought to be put on paper, hard and fast.” "i neglected to say that of course this will be done,” said westbrook, again rising to his feet. “mr. mccann will take the matter in hand, and draw up the whole thing in the form of a contract. a copy of this, each one properly signed and witnessed, will be given to every individual on board. nothing could be more businesslike than that, surely?”. there was a loud murmur of approval. “well, it depends on how soon it's done,” objected beale. “mr. mccann has no watch to keep--why shouldn't he set to work to night?” "that's unreasonable,” replied westbrook. “it will be done as soon as possible.” “speaking for the lower deck," resumed beale, “i— " but westbrook angrily cut him short. “you're speaking only for yourself," he cried. “i believe the men will take my word for it, and show a little patience. am i not right, gentlemen?” he was answered by a friendly roar that completely discomfited beale. “anybody else?” inquired westbrook. “only me," came a voice at the back. “well, speak up, 'only me!” a little, pale man elbowed his way to the front. he was an ex-jockey named weaver, a silent, melancholy creature, who used to snuffle audibly at the evening singsongs when- ever there were allusions to home and foam, or the letter that never came, or kindred tender subjects. “there's one thing that's been overlooked 'ere,” he said, in a high, squeaking voice. “we ’ave one person on board who ain't to get nothink, and i think it's a sin and a shame. it would be an everlasting reflection on our manhood if miss vera westbrook was left out. i propose she share and share with us, and have her pretty name down with the rest. what say, mates?”. it was carried by hearty acclamation. “in the capacity of mascot to the ship!” exclaimed von zedtwitz, his burly form shak- ing with merriment. “if the presence of a young and beautiful woman will not bring us lug, i know not (lacking the conventional goat) how we could get it. gome, my dear, and bow your acknowledgment to these good friends of yours!” he went over to vera, and offering her his arm, brought her to the head of the table. blushing furiously, and yet delighted and complimented, she stood there beside the stalwart german, inclining her head to the storm of applause that greeted her. and thus in harmony and good-will the great meeting terminated. “but we must keep an eye on that fellow beale,” said westbrook. chapter xvii it was a bleak prospect that met their eyes the next day. the gale had blown itself half out, but the weather-sky was still dark and lowering; and over the prairie were expanses of dirty yellow water that promised hard going. it was a scene of acute loneli- ness and desolation, depressing to spirits not yet recovered from the discomforts of the the adventurer previous day. every one was tired and sore, the fortuna was soon moving under both and disinclined for another jolting. but the foretopsails, and the foresail, but slowly. wind was too good to lose, and the orders indeed, she acted so sluggishly that the main- were to get away promptly at eight o'clock. sail was next hoisted, with a considerable it was drawing toward this hour, and the improvement of her speed. but her wheels afterguard were all assembled on the after- sank deeply into the miry ground, and she deck to view the start, when a seaman came toiled and floundered along at a bare eight aft and tipped his cap to jackson. miles an hour. later on, as the sun came “stowaway on board, sir!” he said, out and the going hardened, she picked up a grinning. little, but this was in turn offset by the decline “stowaway!” roared the captain. “what of the wind. with less speed, however, there do you mean?” was less motion, and the violent gyrations of "he's just come out of the hold, sir.” the day before were succeeded by a lumbering “send him aft at once!” unsteadiness that was easier on the nerves. there was a stir forward, and almost the at six bells they hove to in order to take the whole crew advanced in a body, escorting in sun, using an artificial horizon, and at noon their midst the most woebegone figure im- another stop gave them their exact position. aginable. it was st. aubyn, dirty and di- they had run miles, or, as the crow flies, sheveled, with his monocle forlornly stuck in more than half the way to cassiquiare, a won- his eye. but weak as he was he bore himself derful performance all things considered. with bravado, and joined, shamefacedly, in but at four bells of the afternoon watch their the laughter that broke out at the sight of him. fine progress was suddenly cut short. a “what's the meaning of this insubordina- shallow dried-up watercourse forced them to tion, sir?" haul their wind, and for several miles they “oh, piffle,” returned st. aubyn, with the skirted it, looking for a passageway. at most ingratiating impudence. “i wasn't go- length, finding none they dared to attempt, ing to be left behind, captain. i crawled in and reluctant to put the fortuna about after among some barrels, and had a pretty nasty all this wasted distance, they squared away time, i can tell you! some filthy stuff ran out again and stopped short at the likeliest look- all over me, and cases dropped on my head.” ing place. sail was taken in, and preparations “and so we are to be burdened with a sick were made to kedge across. this was a most man?” exclaimed the captain. “you are in tedious operation. as there were no rocks to no state to stand all this, and you know it. make the kedge fast to, a pair of giant crow- a nice fix you've got us all into with your bars had to be driven into the ground to thoughtless selfishness!” afford the necessary purchase. to these wire “oh, don't be hard on me," pleaded st. cables were carried from the forward winch; aubyn.. “i'm not going to be any trouble to and when all was ready, with men stationed anybody-and-and i feel better already.” at the brakes to guard the descent, the enor- his white, drawn face gave the lie to his mous hull was worked forward foot by foot. assertion. in this manner the fortuna was laboriously “and what if you die?” bellowed jackson. drawn across the declivity and piloted over the “i ask you that, sir. i ask you that! what lumpy ground beyond-length by length- if you die?” the crowbars driven in, and dug out again, “oh, that's all right,” said st. aubyn. eight separate times. it was gruelling work “i'll take my chances. i don't want any fuss for the men and used up precious time. made over me even if i do. throw me over- once it seemed almost as though the great board, and keep on.” wheels would stick forever in the mire. for the quiet sincerity of his speech made those not actively engaged in the task, it was even the captain relent. such pluck com- most agreeable to escape from the confine- pelled admiration. ment of the ship and stroll about, watching “all right; go forward. i'll send the doctor the strange spectacle. mrs. hitchcock flitted to you." here and there with a camera, taking snap- the poor fellow saluted and walked away. shots; and vera, escorted by dr. von zedtwitz and the paymaster-an animated little party the winches were both set in action, re of three-boldly walked on in advance, with lieving the men of the hard labor of hoisting something of the sensation of abandoning a the sails. the reefs were shaken out, and steamer in mid-ocean. everybody's magazine by half past four they were under sail again only at the last extremity. it would be to and on their course. with the extraordinary their everlasting disgrace, he declared with aptitude of human beings for adjusting them- flashing eyes and shaking hands, to massacre selves to circumstances, they were beginning these wretched savages on mere suspicion. to feel at home on the fortuna, and in some after a heated debate in which the doctor, degree to make themselves comfortable. with the dreary monotony of another cato, fear had disappeared. attempts were made kept reiterating, “mow them down! mow to read, to play cards, to talk, to take naps. them down!”-it was finally decided to offer a concertina started up forward. clothes the enemy the fontenoy privilege of the first were hung out to dry. hildebrand, with his shot. sleeves rolled up, was valiantly tackling a “in that case their blood will be on their mountain of dough, and filling innumerable own heads," said westbrook. little tin coffins with what was to become afterward, on deck, the german drew bread. crawshaw, on orders from the cap- kirk to one side. tain, was getting the covers off the automatic “my dear boy,” he said, “mage not the guns, and having them polished and oiled. mistake of underestimating these fine people order was slowly emerging out of chaos. mr. westbrook gonsiders so highly. i have the routine of ship-life was asserting itself. refrained with care from dwelling on their there was a noticeable cheerfulness. every- numbers and ferocity, lest our friends might body was "shaking down.” have hesitated at blunging into such a hornets' late in the afternoon there was a rush to nest. but if the pinch ever comes, remem- the side to watch a herd of antelope. they ber”—and here he lowered his voice—“self- were at a considerable distancea blurred, preservation is the first law. you have more dark mass, tailing out to mere specks—and to lose than any of us. ach, i am not blind- as their ways diverged the fortuna soon lost there are other brizes than bars of gold- them over the horizon. later still, the look- kirgpatrick, you listen to nothing, but open out reported smoke to the southwest-a on them with everything you have. and i significant reminder that they were in a say this particularly to you, because " country of wild men as well as of wild animals. the guttural voice sank still lower. it was only a thin, faint spiral of blue, but “did you notice jagson's face when we it caused a great stir on the fortuna. rifles were talking there below?" and cartridge-belts were served out to the “why, im ". watch. the hoppers of the machine guns “kirgpatrick, he's a coward!” were filled with ammunition. each officer received a revolver, with instructions to carry thursday, the third day out, found them it constantly, night and day, strapped to his becalmed. the gale had blown itself out waist. extreme vigilance was enjoined; and there was every indication of settled and and at a council of war, held in the main seasonable weather. the sky was blue and cabin, a rough scheme was drawn up for without a cloud; the sun, as it slowly rose fighting the ship, should the necessity un- into the zenith, made the air as oppressive fortunately arise. gun crews were appointed; as a furnace. the morning passed without marksmen were told off to the foretops and even a whisper of wind. under rough awn- maintops; every man on board was to know ings, fore and aft, the fortuna lay or sat in exactly what he was to do, and where he was lethargic discontent. it was intolerably hot; to go at the call to general quarters. the horizon shimmered with heat; the metal at this meeting something of a clash took deck blistered the feet, and reflected the place between mr. westbrook and dr. von glare of the heavens above. the whole ship zedtwitz. the latter turned out to be a seemed to glow like an oven. toward half regular fire-eater, and the memory of his past three a few catspaws rustled through the three years' captivity made him merciless. awnings. the fortuna began to come to shoot to kill was his motto; and he derided, life. then a light breeze sprang up, fitful with clumsy sarcasm, westbrook's plea for and refreshing--the lightest of trades. it forbearance. but the inventor stood his gradually strengthened, encouraged to do so ground, and insisted hotly that not a life by the sibilant slir-i-i-i of the seafaring con- should be taken unless in absolute self-de- tingent. the ensign fluttered out bravely at fense. kirk had never seen the old man so the main as the captain mounted the bridge. roused. the order to fire was to be given the men eagerly sought their stations. the the adventurer hiti hihihihihihi grumble of the winches was heard, and the of range. but they halted within a mile of creaking of gear and blocks. sail was made. the fortuna, and in fancied security boldly outer jib and flying jib were all got out for gazed at the monster that had invaded their the first time. the square sails were hoisted fastnesses. they were mounted on scrubby and braced. the great fore-and-aft sails little horses, and two of them carried rifles, filled and bellied. but all to no purpose. which, however, they showed no inclination the fortuna would not budge a foot. stay- to use. few though they were, there was sails were run up, and the club-maintopsail- something formidable in their appearance. but still she stuck. their glistening bodies, their matted hair, it was kirk who discovered the cause. he their bows and arrows, their dark, sullen ran aft and found that one of the brakes was mien-all were disquieting. von zedtwitz set. hurriedly releasing it, he had the satis- declared that they were a patrol from a larger faction of feeling the ship begin to move. body, and urged the utmost circumspection. but it was at a snail's pace-a bare three miles indeed, if he had had his way, he would have an hour. in lumpy places it dwindled to turned one of the machine guns on the nine. even less. the fortuna was a very poor his conviction was borne out by their be- sailer in light airs. she rolled along pon- havior. as the ship got under way they derously, threatening again and again to trailed after her persistently, refusing to be come to an absolute standstill. by easing shaken off. whether at a walk, a canter, the sheets and bearing up a point or two she or a gallop, they kept doggedly behind her, was made to pick up somewhat, but the gain altering their pace and their direction to suit thus achieved was hardly counterbalanced by hers. at noon, when the wind died down, the loss of direction. she traveled faster, but they made no attempt to come closer, but added little to her southing. by sundown, dismounted, and huddled together on the when the wind sank, the dead reckoning ground. as the breeze sprang up again, showed that she had made only about seven they resumed the pursuit, tirelessly following miles—a pitiful advance when compared with the fortuna as she tacked across the prairie. the actual amount of ground covered. late in the afternoon, when the wind had friday was better. the wind was fresher, again failed and the fortuna lay becalmed and she was enabled to lie up closer to it. for the night, they circled around her several during the morning she averaged five knots, times, and then, galloping away to the south- with occasional spurts of seven and eight. ward, finally disappeared over the horizon. she was pressed to the utmost, and was given “marg my words," said von zedtwitz, “to- every stitch they could raise. the trades morrow there will be drouble!.” were almost due east, and seldom veered more but his forebodings seemed unlikely to be than half a point into the south. the helms- borne out. the breaking day showed the men were told to steal every bit they could to vast expanse as lonely as the sea. from the windward; and as there was no leeway to crow's-nest the searching glasses revealed not contend with, every yard counted. but it a sign of life-nothing but desolate immensity, was anxious work, for she was very cranky, rimmed by sky. by ten they were zigzagging and had to be carefully nursed. she acted to the south with a stiffish breeze, and log- well in stays, however, and swung around ging a good nine. there was every pros- smartly as the helm was put down. a good pect of a splendid run, and a general exhil- place had always to be chosen for this aration animated the ship. she bowled maneuver, for it would never have done to along with a dip and a swing that made it risk her in the hummocks. they were learn- impossible to keep one's feet without sup- ing her ways now, and could forecast her port; but little thought was taken of such behavior with some certainty. the labor of discomfort, since it was always in proportion sailing her was consequently less harassing, to the speed attained. the harder she was though it was still arduous enough. pressed, the bumpier and more violent was saturday was remarkable for their first the motion. it was all the helmsmen could sight of the savages that dr. von zedtwitz do to hold her on her course, and at times feared so profoundly. at dawn, the watch the backlash of the wheels flung them off had been alarmed by the tramping of horses their feet. beside the ship; and with a couple of pistol- five bells had hardly struck, when haines, shots had dislodged a band of nine naked who was conning the ship from the foretop, indians who had forthwith scampered out reported: “horsemen on the port bow!” everybody's magazine this electrifying intelligence caused a great compactly massed, and plunging on their commotion. the men ran to quarters; the wild ponies as though ready to dart on her covers were stripped off the guns; rifles were flank. cries, yells, and the pounding of served out from the chart-house. the cap- hoofs vied with the clatter and bang of the tain sent aft for westbrook, mrs. hitchcock, enormous hull as she swept on with an earth- dr. von zedtwitz, and kirk; and a hurried shaking rush. kirk felt his hair rising be- consultation was held on the bridge. the neath his cap; he seemed to have forgotten question was eagerly debated as to what they how to breathe; it was frightful to think of ought to do. it was decided to hold on, and plunging through all that flesh and blood. ascertain the number of the savages before as in all moments of excessive tension, his eye going about. in the meanwhile, haines took in some pictures with an extraordinary kept the speaking-tube busy.. vividness—westbrook, with his white hair "raising them fast. disheveled, crouching over his gun—the “they're separating into two bodies as captain's face, withering with terror-a couple though to intercept us. of men scrambling for cartridges that had “can't say how many—but there must be been spilled from a canvas bucket. hundreds. the savages scattered pell-mell to open a “they're opening out into a fan. lane for the fortuna to pass. the ship drove “yes-rifles—lots of them. can see them through a sea of rearing horses, and naked, quite plainly.” shrieking humanity-an avalanche of canvas even from the bridge a dim, dark line was and metal, bristling with death. there was becoming visible in front. then specks a flit-flit of little arrows. kirk, with wonder, tumultuously moving like a herd of wild ani- saw some sticking in the mast. he pulled one mals. then unmistakable horses with naked out of his coat. he felt the whiz of others riders, walling the horizon. past his ears. the man beside him fell on westbrook sent word to vera to go below, his knees, and then rolled over, twitching and then coolly descended the ladder to take convulsively. charge of the forward port gun. his last but there was no time to think of him. on. words to jackson were: “don't fire unless either hand the savages, in hundreds, were you have to.” galloping beside the ship, and straining to the captain was looking very pale and keep pace with her. patter, patter, patter helpless, and he only nodded in reply. mrs. came the little arrows. then shots, fewer, hitchcock, with an old bonnet tilted on one but more deadly, the fellows rising in their side of her head, was almost dancing with saddles, and aiming with deliberation. up excitement, and loudly pooh-poohed the no- till then the fortuna had made no reply, but tion of seeking safety. von zedtwitz, with now westbrook's gun opened with an ear- a very grim air, was examining the sights of splitting crash. the others followed, belching a rifle that had been handed up to him. he flame. the deck shook with reverberations, had a three years' account to settle with the and an acrid smell of powder filled the air. piapocos, and he wore an air of somber sat- fore and aft, every rifle was cracking furi- isfaction. kirk was holding to the weather- ously. it seemed as though nothing human rail, watching the swarming savages through could long withstand such a fusillade; and his glass. he distrusted jackson, and dis- kirk, looking back, saw their wake dotted trusted haines, and was silently considering with horses and men, lying limp and bloody the situation. the danger steadied him, and on the receding ground. but yet there was no gave him an uplifting sense of responsibility. sign of the pursuit being abandoned. the at any moment he might become answerable torn ranks filled up. the great horde clung for the safety and lives of all on board. he on like wolves to either flank, and volleyed could see the men looking up at him, as men arrows and bullets with ferocity. always will when their leaders are to be jackson stood there as though he were tested, and he tried to bear himself with made of stone. he did not answer when resolution and confidence. kirk spoke to him. he did not even turn his the fortuna was coming up hand over head. he gazed straight before him into hand, as though to drive right through the vacancy, and nothing could rouse him from a wide array before her. there were at least sort of paralysis of fear. kirk snatched the eight hundred horsemen wheeling across her speaking-trumpet from his unresisting hand. track; and on her port bow was another mob, the men were firing wildly; and, except for the adventurer westbrook's gun, and some of the sharp- fortuna was a formidable antagonist, but shooters like von zedtwitz and bob st. aubyn, becalmed what was she but a rather rickety were wasting a terrific amount of ammunition. fort? the indians had not been beaten. in “starboard gun, ahoy! starboard gun, spite of their losses they had hung on with there!” desperation, and were as full of fight as ever. “aye, aye, sir!” in a couple of hours the ship, stationary as a “lower, lower! aim lower! lower, i rock, would again be attacked. with no tell you! wind to move her she would have to bear a “what's the matter down there, beale? terrific onslaught with every point in the why aren't you firing? port gun aft, why enemy's favor. machine guns and all, she aren't you firing?” would be hard put to it—with less than fifty a man came running up to say that it was men—to withstand a horde of nigh a thousand. jammed. no, the wind was the biggest weapon they “then pass the word for crawshaw. get possessed, and the poorest use they could put crawshaw!--hold on!” it to was to flee. “yes, sir!” “stand by to go about!” shouted kirk. “stop that jackass in the red shirt from the cheering ceased. men stared at him shooting in the air." with open mouths, unable to believe that he “very good, sir!” could mean to renew the combat. such ap- it was hard to make the speaking-trumpet parent foolhardiness struck them dumb. heard above the din. there was a great “all hands to your stations!” deal of confusion--of purposeless running to his voice was so decisive that after an and fro—of conflicting orders from those who instant of hesitation there was a general had no right to give any. for a few minutes movement to obey. the note of resolution the ship was utterly out of hand. but kirk and self-confidence was irresistible. rapidly brought back some degree of control. “ready about! above the pandemonium his resonant voice, “round in the weather braces. flatten in magnified by the speaking-trumpet, thundered the main-sheet there! tend the jib-sheets!” forth his orders. he sent three men to the “helms alee!” wheel to replace those that had fallen. he the great hull swung round with a bump eased the sheets to try to outdistance the and a crash, and paid off on the other tack. pursuit, and, finding that of no avail, ran up “flatten in the head-sheets. lively, boys, the club-topsail, and a couple of other kites. lively! belay the lee-braces-haul taut the he ordered the wounded and dying to be weather-braces, trim in the main-sheet! carried amidships where the doctor could “all hands to quarters!” best serve them. he suppressed much ran the enemy was about half a mile distant, dom firing by those who did not know one and it could be seen that this unexpected end of a rifle from the other, and whose crazy maneuver of the fortuna had thrown them antics were a menace to every soul on board. into confusion. a hoarse, low humming crowded with every yard she could carry, rose from their midst, and for a moment kirk the fortuna gradually forged ahead of the hoped that this was a signal for their flight. foam-flecked horses and their panting riders. but, on the contrary, they stood their ground, the few that managed to keep her pace were and opposed a defiant front to the oncoming shot down. the rest, straggling out for a ship. kirk aimed her at the place where mile, were little by little dropped behind they seemed thickest, at the same time order- then, altogether losing heart, they drew rein, ing his men to hold their fire till every shot and sullenly watched their prey escape. could be made to tell. but kirk's elation was short-lived. amid tense and breathless the gun crews stood the cheering and congratulations that cele- ready to open with their hail of death. a file brated their deliverance, his face alone failed of men were passing up ammunition from be- to reflect the universal joy. he knew they low, the supply in the chart-room having be- were bound soon to lose the wind; and even gun to run short. here and there, the sharp- by squaring away to the westward, the best shooters, braced against the rigging, were that could be hoped for was a run of a dozen covering living targets with their rifles. such miles. the battle would have to be begun of the wounded as had the strength to do so again in circumstances a thousandfold more were standing up, holding to what they could disadvantageous than before. under sail the clasp. one, too weak even for this, managed everybody's magazine to roll himself to the scuppers, and was see- him in the blue of the horizon. unnerved ing as much as possible through a hawsehole. and shaken by the terrible ordeal, it was with lurching and plunging, her great wheels spin- profound relief that he saw the battle-ground ning like those of a locomotive, the fortuna fade and disappear. though they might sped forward with ponderous velocity. the now have counted themselves secure from savages scattered to open a way for her as molestation, and could have camped in se- they had done before, but this time kirk did curity where they were, there was, in every not shrink from harming them. within fifty heart on board, a consuming eagerness to feet of the lane he put up his helm, and sent escape to another region. the fortuna crashing through a mob of men the captain, whose corpse-like face had and horses. with her enormous headway never moved a muscle throughout the action, she ground through them with unimpaired and who had stood there as speechless and speed, jolting violently, and reddening her inert as a wooden figure, now slowly recovered wheels with blood. even as she did so, the his benumbed faculties. guns opened with murderous uproar, and “kirkpatrick," he said, with pitiful bra- from stem to stern every rifle was spitting vado, in which there was a note of entreaty, flame. “i think we may congratulate ourselves on but in the instant of her passage arrows the way we fought the ship!" flew thick and fast, and from a hundred guns or more repeated volleys swept over her deck. st. aubyn fell, shot through the neck. a chapter xviii couple of men in the. fore-rigging dropped like sacks of coal. one poor fellow ran kirk did not know, until he descended screaming the length of the ship, holding from the bridge to assure himself of vera's his shattered jaw to his face. safety, and to learn the extent of their losses, with her guns detonating, her crew cheer- that in one brief hour he had become a hero. ing, her cordage groaning and creaking, the this fact was borne in on him by the tumul- fortuna tore through the screeching, yelling tuous cheering that greeted his appearance. throng, and raced into the comparative secu- there was a rush to acclaim him, to shake rity of the prairie beyond. many still clung his hand, to overwhelm him with vociferous to her flanks, but the main body, disorganized admiration. powder-blackened men, naked and appalled, made no attempt to follow, to the waist, with disheveled hair, and shrinking together in a panic-stricken crowd. splashed with blood and dirt, surged about when kirk again went about and flung the him in mad enthusiasm. it was all he could fortuna at their very center, they broke and do to force his way amidships, struggling in fled. at first, even in flight, they kept some the most undignified manner with those who cohesion. but as the ship plowed through would have raised him on their shoulders and their frenzied ranks, her huge wheels striking borne him aloft in triumph. down dozens at a time and crushing them, tasting for the first time in his life the most the survivors scattered in every direction like intoxicating pleasure the world can give, autumn leaves in the wind. his bewilderment was equaled only by his thinking that the slaughter had gore far surprise. it had not dawned on him before enough, kirk gave the order to cease fir- that he had done anything extraordinary, ing, and applied himself to breaking up the and he had even feared that his assumption smaller parties, which in tens and twenties of command might later on be resented. still kept together. circling like some mon- but here he was the hero of the ship, with strous vulture, he cut off these in turn, and great bearded fellows exalting him to the scattered them to the four winds, till the skies, and huzzahing like so many lunatics. savanna, as far as the eye could reach, was amidships, he was acclaimed with similar dotted with fleeing figures. in these maneu- outbursts. wounded men raised themselves vers, he refrained as far as he could from to call out faintly: “well done, kirkpatrick!” taking more lives, being content to harass “good for you, old man!” old zeddy had and terrorize the fugitives till he was satisfied one arm around him in a bear-like hug. mrs. that they were utterly routed. hitchcock was covering his hand with kisses then, setting the vessel once more on her and crying hysterically. he was pushed and course, he thankfully drew away from such jostled and almost torn to pieces. as in a scenes of carnage, and let them sink behind dream he looked for vera. he was too human the adventurer not to long that she might be there to see him kirk was for temporizing, and with his at this wonderful moment. new-found authority he had little difficulty ah, there she was, kneeling beside st. in carrying his point. they were all tired aubyn, and gazing up at him with eyes like out, he said, and neither cool nor collected stars. huddled about her on blankets and enough to settle such a vital matter offhand. mattresses were the wounded men she had he wrung a reluctant consent from von zedt- been tending, hemming her in so closely that witz and westbrook that decision should be she could not rise without disturbing them. postponed for twenty-four hours. but there was something in her glance that he himself was utterly exhausted by the kirk thought he had never seen before strain of the battle. the reaction had left something that stirred him inexpressibly, and him limp as a rag. in return for their con- filled him with a sudden and wild delight. cession, he consented to seek his bunk and but disturbing duties crowded on him fast get a little repose. not, however, until he and robbed him of those ecstatic moments. had made the round of the ship; put her in it was extraordinary how every one deferred trim to renew the fight, if need be; and sta- to him, and made him at once the arbiter of tioned some of his trusty men on guard. all their destinies. it was as though he had even then, it was only at the most urgent in- suddenly been elected king. his will was sistence of his two friends that he allowed supreme, and authority was positively forced himself to be ordered below. but they prom- upon him. the poor, disgraced captain had ised that he should be called at the first sign hidden himself out of sight, and haines had of danger, and with this he had to be satisfied. similarly disappeared. it seemed that the “see here, kirkpatrick," said westbrook latter had lain throughout the battle on the bluntly, "you've shown us that you are the floor of the top in a state of abject terror. best man on board, and it's only common the news had run round the ship, and he sense to take good care of you. now shut had been hooted and hissed as he made his up and go below!” appearance on deck. fortune, as usual, had kirk obeyed. the old man's paternal favored the brave; and in the time of stress tone touched him. praise from vera's father the true leader had arisen. the cowardice was praise indeed, however roughly it might of jackson and haines had been the means be uttered. he threw himself on his bunk, of exalting kirk. and, turning his face to the wall, fell fast their loss had been frightful. eleven asleep. he had been up the greater part of killed and wounded out of a complement the night before, and this had added to his of fifty-six. bence, farquer, and mccann fatigue. body and brain were both weary, killed; st. aubyn dying; weaver, the little and he nestled his face to the pillow as a jockey, hanging between life and death, his child nestles to its mother's breast. only chance a difficult operation that would he had no idea how long he had slept when have to be carried out in the most trying and he felt his shoulder shaken, and looked up to unfavorable circumstances; johnson, wick- see his cabin crowded with men. he sprang ersham, stubbs, forsyth, niedringhaus, and up instantly in a sweat of apprehension, stanley all more or less seriously hurt. thinking that the fortuna was again in it was hard to decide what was best to do. danger. to expose these unfortunate men to the “good heavens, what's the matter?" cruel buffeting of the ship was manifestly, “it's all right. don't worry- we've for a while at least, impossible. the con- come to have a talk with you.” dition of st. aubyn and weaver absolutely it was westbrook who spoke, and kirk's precluded it. yet time was precious, and the alarm vanished as he regarded that grave, ship could not be tied up indefinitely. west- kind face. but his surprise rose by leaps brook and von-zedtwitz were for going on and bounds at the unexpected sight of a dozen at once at any hazard. they were sustained of the crew invading his room, and peering in by the wishes of the injured men themselves, at him through the doorway. what did it who, with magnificent courage, were unani- mean? mous in their desire not to hamper the ex- “we've just come from a big meeting in pedition. mrs. hitchcock was in no state the forecastle," said westbrook. “these to take part in the discussion, and had locked gentlemen are a committee who have been herself in her cabin, sobbing and moaning appointed to bring you the news.” on the floor. inews?" everybody's magazine “you have been elected captain.” breeze still held. he regretted the necessity kirk was speechless. he was still half for losing the mileage they might so easily asleep. the committee solemnly regarded have made had it not been for the wounded. him, while he drowsily regarded the com- but this was in passing; there were more mittee. the silence was broken by hilde- peremptory things to claim his attention. brand. grouping himself with his two officers on the “there's been the deuce to pay,” he said. bridge, he sent for beale. the australian then the situation was gradually explained. came swaggering aft, and mounted the ladder mrs. hitchcock, egged on by jackson, had with a jaunty air. flatly announced her determination to throw “hello, kirk," he said. “what's up?" up the expedition. the disasters of the day “don't call me that again,” exclaimed had completely cowed her, and she was kirk. “i'm the captain of this ship, and the frantic to turn back. she and jackson had sooner you know it the better." been among the crew, promising enormous kirk's hand was on his revolver, and he sums of money to those who would side with looked so ready to use it that beale's little her. unfortunately, there were only too ironical speech died still-born at the first many who themselves had lost heart. the syllable. pair had secured at least sixteen adherents; “i haven't much to say to you, beale,” kirk and had it not been for the drastic action of went on, "except to tell you that if you don't westbrook and the cooler heads, the con- toe the line, i'll clap you in irons and keep spiracy would soon have assumed dangerous you there. do you understand? no tamper- proportions. as it was, it was bad enough, ing with the men; no dickering with mrs. though the bolder spirits had rallied, and had hitchcock; no hole-and-corner politics. if defied the cowardly minority. taking the i hear another word about turning back, i'll bull by the horns, they had deposed jackson know who's at the root of it, and i'll give you and haines, placed stanch men in charge short shrift. you can go forward.” of the arms, and had asserted their determina- beale hesitated as though to argue the tion to proceed at any cost. but they were matter, but the row of resolute faces daunted now confronted by three powerful enemies, him, and he turned on his heel without a beale, jackson, and the old lady's money. word. it was no little victory for kirk, and it was said that she had offered the australian saved him from the disagreeable course of $ , and the command if he could head putting his threat into execution. the ship back again to felicidad; together then he sent for jackson and haines. with ten thousand to every recruit. this the latter appeared first. he was a sad- price put upon timidity threatened to under- looking object; his features swollen with mine the resistance of those who otherwise weeping, and every line of his body articulate would have remained firm. why should they with dejection and shame. he acquiesced risk their skins for problematical treasures, humbly in his disrating, and took his lecture while safety and an assured competence could in a snuffling silence. when he was told he be so pleasantly combined? had to shift his things forward and take up kirk inquired the names of the two other his quarters in the forecastle, he broke down officers. completely, and went away, crying like a “wicks and goltz.” baby. he could not have asked for better. “well, where's jackson?". wicks was a middle-aged merchant-service “won't come, captain!” man holding a captain's papers. a bit of “won't come, eh? what did he say?" devonshire granite, burly, slow of speech, the answer was unprintable. with unflinching blue eyes—a fellow to be “take four hands with you and bring relied on to his last breath. goltz was an ex- him." uhlan, a bitter, brilliant, irascible creature, “aye, aye, sir.” who in his palmy days had been a fop and a alas for the fall of the mighty! was this bon vivant, and whose broken fortunes had the erstwhile magnificent being who had left him nothing but a daredevil courage. lorded it in the high places—his coat ripped he held his life cheap, and loved danger for down the back, his face purple with passion, its own sake. his shapely legs kicking and struggling like kirk buckled on his pistol, and went on a recreant schoolboy's in the grasp of the deck. it was nearly five o'clock, and the usher? a cursing, reviling maniac, fighting the adventurer every inch of his enforced progress, bellow- ing, biting, scratching with superhuman fury, dragged in front, boosted from behind, the late ornament of the transport service was ingloriously hoisted into view. kirk was alive to the fact that he owed his own promotion, in the first instance, to the liking jackson had taken for him; and he was consequently desirous of being as easy with his former commander as he possibly could. yet at the same time he had to assert, in no equivocal fashion, the power that had been vested in him. swift and decisive action was needed to stem the incipient mutiny be- fore it could gather greater headway. the ringleaders had to be taught, and taught promptly, that any attempt to turn back the ship would not be tolerated. any paltering with the situation would assuredly result in disaster. as in every assembly of men, the mass were on the fence ready to side with the winner. it was a case of taking time by the forelock, and of striking hard. kirk made no effort to check jackson's tirade. he patiently endured insults, threats, and vituperation, which grew louder and more incoherent, for the man's fury seemed to burst all bounds. storming and raving, he was fairly beside himself, frothing at the mouth, shaking his fist in the air, defying everything and everybody with a hoarse, spluttering torrent of invective that stopped at nothing. kirk let him roar himself out, and when at last, spent and breathless, he paused from sheer exhaustion, he himself bore in. “you've had your turn, mr. jackson,” he said, "and now, i guess, it's mine. all this noise won't do us any good. i've stood it once, but i don't intend to stand it again. either you've got to make up your mind to take your medicine quietly, or, by george, i'll bundle you forward and keep you there. you're nothing now on this ship but a pas- senger-do you hear?-a passenger!” jackson was plainly working himself up for a fresh explosion. “i–i-i—" he began in a choking voice. “silence!" thundered kirk, and advancing on him, he shouted to goltz for the handcuffs. the jingle of steel unmanned jackson. he gazed wildly about him, and jerked his hands to his breast as though to save them from profanation. his bold front gave way to a cringing and pitiable submission. "hold on, boys,” he pleaded in a broken voice. “for god's sake, don't put those things on me. i-i couldn't stand it. i'll try to do what you think best.” kirk motioned goltz back. “very well,” he said. “we don't want to humiliate you if we can help it. if you will make it easy for us, we'll make it easy for you—and let bygones be bygones all round. only remember this — you have more influence with mrs. hitchcock than any of us, and if i learn of any more bribes being offered to our men, i shall hold you personally responsible. that kind of thing has to stop. you must make it your duty to see that it does. we are determined to push the expedition through, and croakers and hangers-back will get no mercy. everybody went into this with open eyes-and now that they're in, they'll have to stay in! that will do. you may go below!” “he's whipped,” said westbrook, as they watched the ex-captain descend the ladder with forlorn deliberation. “hope so," assented kirk. “but the ship's full of loose powder, and a spark may set it off.” “well, we have two of our firebrands in list slippers-beale and jackson.” “and the hose ready," added wicks with a grin. "if poor st. aubyn goes, it will have a very bad effect," said kirk. “how is he?" “very low.” “and weaver?" “no better.” kirk shuddered as his eyes swept the limitless expanse about them. “what a place to leave your bones in!” “take care, my friend,” said westbrook, tapping him affectionately on the back. “if you lose heart, what will become of us?” “i'd give half my share to be under way again,” exclaimed kirk somberly. “this inaction is killing. we are going to be tied up here for days and days. gentlemen, the coming weeks will prove a greater strain than our fight to-day, and they will test our courage a good deal more." dinner that night was the gloomiest of rites. no one could eat, and mccann's empty place stared at them like a specter. the worthy, jolly fellow, with his hackneyed jokes and unending prattle, was now still forever. in life he had been an amiable bore, full of puns and quips and clumsy, good- humored chaff. it was hard to associate him with death, or to think that he lay stiff everybody's magazine and stark, with a sheet drawn over his livid face. mrs. hitchcock kept to her cabin, but jackson took his accustomed seat, and in a crushed, stricken manner showed a sort of gratefulness at finding he was not to be sent to coventry. they were all at some pains to ease his fall, and to treat him with considera- tion and respect. vera sat beside her father, but she was downcast and silent, and soon excused herself and slipped away. dinner was altogether a hushed, melancholy perform- ance, and every one was relieved when it was over. kirk made his rounds; ordered the search- light lit; stationed a couple of men at each of the machine guns; and then, turning over the command to wicks, buried himself in a dark corner to smoke a cigar. so many things had happened that he wished to draw on one side, and think them over-wanted to have some time to think, alone and undis- turbed. it was very hard for him to realize the topsy-turvy changes of the last twelve hours—the battle, the deposition of jackson and haines, his own unexpected elevation, the unforeseen and alarming stand taken by the old lady to break up the expedition. through all the random pictures thus recalled there persisted always a vivid, girlish face, with haunting eyes, and a look so troubled and strange that he trembled at his own presump- tion of its meaning. did it not reflect some- thing of his own heart-sickness, of his own wild longing? ah, this love that was supposed to be so sweet, it was the cruelest thing in the world! voices drew near him—two shadowy fig- ures in close and confidential talk-vera and the tall, thin, boyish doctor. “it will be an hour before i dare to try perhaps two. i can do nothing until he rallies a little. it's what's called a capital operation." “but he has a strong constitution.” “that's almost a drawback, miss west- brook. a vitality lowered by long illness is preferable to that of a strong, hearty fellow struck down in the full tide of health and strength. the violent arrest is equivalent to wrecking an express train with its own brakes.” “you will call me when i'm wanted?" “oh, yes, that is, if you think you're brave enough to-to- " “i'm not afraid, doctor. i'd despise myself if i allowed my squeamishness to stand in the poor fellow's way. i may faint afterward, but until the operation is over you can rely on me.” “miss westbrook, you are a thorough- bred.” “no-just a woman.” “and shaming the men as your sex al- ways does. those chaps mean well, but you can see yourself how stupid and useless they are. i'd rather have you in the sick-bay than a dozen of them.” “thank you, doctor." “get a little air, then come back. i want to put bence on the table and find that bullet. i'm sure it's in there." “very well. i'll stay here till i'm wanted.” phillips turned, and left her standing there alone. kirk called to her softly. she started, and then came toward him in the darkness. in an instant she was in his arms, her face burning under his kisses, her little hot hands clinging to his. he pressed her to him in a fever of delight and exultation. she was his. he had snatched her from all the fates, and would never let her go again. he had no thought of her distress, her shame, her panting whispers to be released. he kissed her until she forgot everything in an ecstasy of love, till her lips were as eager as his, till in that resistless torrent of emotion she was swept headlong, powerless to save herself. he told her that he loved her. oh, how he loved her! he had loved her from the first day-loved and hated her-both. hated her for her beauty, which had tortured him without ceasing. but she was his now. he extorted the admission from her. he put . the most endearing words into her mouth, and crushed her until she repeated them- repeated them again and again, with tender, mocking variations. the primitive woman in her wanted to be coerced, to flutter in the bonds of an irresistible strength, to rouse to frenzy that most savage of all egoisms. to submit was rapture-to believe that one had no choice-to feel a delicious helplessness, and swoon in an iron grasp. “kirk, darling?” “yes, sweetheart." “you would do anything for me, wouldn't you?”. “of course i would.” “even if it were very disagreeable?" “what do you mean, vera? i don't understand.” “kirk, captain jackson is right!” “right!” “it's crazy for us to go on. oh, don't the adventurer hate me for saying it. but, kirk, please, for won't touch us again. zedtwitz is positive my sake. no, you must listen-you must, of it.” you must. it is too dangerous and terrible “he'd be positive of anything—to go on.” to go on. think of all those poor fellows “no, no." lying there. nothing is worth such a price “it's my first favor. the only thing i've -no, not all the treasure in the world! it ever asked of you—and you refuse it." was all very well before. it was delightful “i have to. good heavens, i have no then. it was inspiriting and splendid. but choice!” now it would be wicked-criminal, kirk. “even after all i've said?” if it were in a better cause i'd say nothing. “oh, my darling, try to put yourself in my but what is it all for?-just money." place. the disgrace of it—the disloyalty—! “but that's everything." the decision must rest absolutely with your “no, it isn't!” father." “it is to me. to lose it would mean losing "nothing can shake him. he's incredibly you. i must have it." obstinate. his whole heart's bound up with “o kirk, papa is worth ever so much. this wretched ship and his childish pride in he will take care of us.” it. you're just the same. i count for noth- “oh, that's impossible. you would not ing with either of you." have me a dependent." “that isn't true. it's a question of “i thought you wanted me so much." honor." “but a beggar?" “and what of love? is that not more?" “but he'll make you something—find you “don't put it like that!” something to do." “but i do.” “besides, vera, i couldn't be so disloyal. “then i'm helpless.” it's more even than the money-lots more. “yes or no, kirk?”. i'd be a cur to back out now. what could “oh, you know i can't." be more treacherous, more ignominious! as “so that's the test of your love for me? long as your father and von zedtwitz wish to well, i shall plead no longer. i have some go on, don't you see i have no other course?” pride too, and you have trampled it under “but talk it over with them. explain it foot. it's a bitter thing to find that you have to them. i know they will listen to you. given your heart to a man who is unworthy papa defers all the time to your judgment. of it. no, no, don't—that's all over!” you are the one person he would yield to." she gently freed herself, and left him be- “i simply couldn't.” fore he could realize the full significance of “o kirk, you could-you could!" their quarrel. then he followed her, beg- “besides, we are more than half-way there, ging incoherently for her forgiveness. much more than half-way. it would be “there's nothing to forgive,” she said in a cowardly to turn tail now." sad little voice. “you've disappointed me “and if we meet more savages?” —that's all. -i thought you cared, kirk.” “fight them!” “but i do, i do!” “and if i were hurt? suppose i had to “i don't wish to talk about it any more. have my foot cut off like poor stanley?" it's too heart-breaking. but if to-morrow “next time i'll see that you're out of you don't change your mind, i'll never speak harm's way. we're going to armor one of to you again.” the cabins for you and mrs. hitchcock, and with that she was gone. make certain that you both stay there. it was frightful how you exposed yourself to- day.” chapter xix "and if the ship were carried? you know the horrors that a woman is exposed to? i the next day at dawn the mournful should have thought that that might have preparations had to be made to inter the weighed with you. think of my- " dead. st. aubyn had died during the night, “stop-vera, stop. - ". and four graves had to be dug a little way “is it not true?” from the ship. all hands were assembled to “no, i'd kill you first.” pay the last honors to their fallen comrades; “and if you were dead?” and the four bodies, sewn in hammocks, were “they've learned their lesson. they reverently borne to their last rest. the flag everybody's magazine was half-masted, and from the fortuna's weaver's condition put them indeed in a lofty deck, the little handful of the guard, dilemma. grouped about her guns, looked down at the “and he may die after all?” asked craw- slow procession wending its way across the shaw. prairie. westbrook read the burial service, “oh, certainly,” assented phillips. “he and never had it sounded to his hearers more has hardly three chances in ten.” beautiful or impressive. the vastness and there followed a prolonged discussion that desolation of the scene, the rugged figures of brought matters no nearer a climax. kirk, the men leaning on their rifles, the stately who had held back and said little, was the measure of the words—all made an impres- one to resolve their perplexities. sion that could never be forgotten. “gentlemen," he said, "it seems to me it was not a sight to strengthen hearts not a matter for us, but for the poor fellow already faint; and on their return a council of himself. let it be laid before him quite war was held in the chart-room to discuss the frankly, we pledging ourselves to abide by very serious situation that now confronted his wishes. we will stay here, or go on, them. phillips, previously the least consid- or go back to felicidad, just as he desires. ered of the party—a gawky, boyish, diffident this is the only way to evade a responsi- fellow, fresh from the medical schools of bility that i, for one, will not take on my edinburgh—had now become a powerful fac- shoulders.” tor in their plans. he was listened to with “the captain's right," put in wicks. great respect, and his proposals were atten "is he in any condition to consider it?" tively considered. inquired goltz. he expatiated on the harm to their morale “oh, he is conscious," said the doctor. that would result from remaining where they “this morning he dictated a letter to his were. the constant sight of those graves, he mother." said, would have a depressing effect on every “then in that case i think we are unani- one on board, and sickness would indubitably mous," exclaimed westbrook. “has any follow. he was for putting in another day's one an objection?” sail, and then forming a comfortable camp his question, though including them all, beside the ship where the wounded might was more particularly addressed to von have the necessary space so lacking on the zedtwitz. the german was tugging at his fortuna itself, and at least two weeks for whiskers in a sullen, fidgety manner. the recuperation. the one difficulty in the way plan did not suit him at all. to put the was weaver's extremely precarious condi expedition in jeopardy for the sake of one tion. man irritated him profoundly. it struck "i cannot assume the responsibility, single him as a bit of silly sentimentalism. this handed, of moving him,” went on the young made his answer all the more unexpected. doctor. “even a few hours of jolting and “i bow to the majority," he said grimly. racking might cost him his life. but it phillips was sent away to submit the matter seems to me that this is a case of considering to weaver. the greater good of the greater number.” a little later he returned. “when do you think he would be in a state “you're not to consider him at all!” he to endure it safely?" it was westbrook who cried. “by george, i take my hat off to that asked. fellow. if that isn't pluck for you!” “gentlemen, not under two months.” “he consents to go on?” inquired west- · this was a thunderclap. brook. the two months would trespass seriously “insists on it. i had to tell him the risk. on their reserves of provisions and water, not ‘hang the risk,' he said; ‘a man can die only to speak of bringing them perilously near the once-just keep me alive as long as you can, wet season when the flooded savanna would doctor, and when my time's come, let me go turn to bog. easy!'” “it is a peety,” said von zedtwitz. “weaver there were exclamations of approval, of was a fine man, but- " admiration. the dilemma no longer ex- his pause spoke volumes. isted. weaver had freed them from a terrible “and the others, doctor?" responsibility. “oh, i'll have them fit to travel in a fort “after all, it's only what any of us would night.” have done,” said crawshaw simply. the adventurer by ten o'clock the fortuna was under way as well as the courage and good humor with again, lying up close-hauled against a stiff which he bore his frightful sufferings, stirred breeze. cots had been slung for the wounded, his companions with a limitless compassion. alleviating in some slight measure the trying the new camp was to be named weaver- motion of the ship. the hatches were off camp weaver-and the poor, stricken little the main hold, and tents and other parapher- jockey derived much satisfaction from the nalia were being hoisted out in readiness honor. for the camp. all was bustle and animation, “how good you boys are,” he whispered. and it was apparent that the men's spirits rose “camp weaver! i say, that's the sort of with every mile that separated them from thing to make a chap feel proud!” those four lonely mounds behind them. kirk, mrs. hitchcock appeared at table that day alone, showed none of the buoyancy that was for the first time since jackson's deposition. everywhere else so manifest. he was in a she was very subdued, though there was a bitter and dejected humor. vera had been gleam in her sunken black eyes that be- true to her word, and had cut him to the tokened mischief. but she was civil to ev- quick by her coldness and disdain. he had erybody; inquired the day's run; and com- tried to reinstate himself, hoping that on ported herself with a sort of stiff dignity that second thoughts she would relent. but she became her very well. westbrook thought had listened to him in silence, and then had to patch up peace with her, mistaking her turned away. he was no match for her in carefully calculated manner for an overture such a contest. he could not affect a similar of friendship. but he was quickly unde- cold attitude. his face could not hide how ceived. cruelly he had been hurt. for him it was the “you fail to appreciate my position,” she end of the world, the end of everything, and said coolly. “you have everything your he went about his duties with a benumbing own way just now, and i am powerless. sense of despair. but i'll find a means to assert my rights long but there was too much on his shoulders before you reach cassiquiare." to allow him for long to dwell on his misery. “my dear mrs. hitchcock," cried west- orders had to be given, a hundred things brook, “it is most painful to hear you speak seen to, and the ship vigilantly watched to like that! may i not appeal to your good coax every yard out of her. he pressed her sense, your generosity—to do away with this as hard as he dared, finding a somber pleas- miserable misunderstanding? this is a time ure in scaring his command out of their seven for us all to stand together, shoulder to shoul- wits. never before had the fortuna been der, and drop all our differences for the so audaciously handled. again and again general good.” her weather-wheels lifted, and the whole he rose, and came over to her, holding out enormous fabric careened over with a sick- his hand. ening lurch that brought the heart to the “for heaven's sake, let us be friends!” he mouth. every stitch drawing-a mountain exclaimed. of humming, bellying, straining yellow silk her sallow face hardened, and two little -he kept her racing at a breakneck pace, spots of red showed in her cheeks. with a rush and thunder in consonance with “we are not friends,” she said, “and we his own harsh thoughts. he had learned never can be again. this vessel is my prop- every trick of her now. he knew to a hair erty; the food you are eating was bought with what she could stand. he could feel and my money; i have the legal right to demand trust her as he could his own body. but to our return to felicidad. you choose to defy the others, who had no such assurance, it was me—well, i will make no threats, but i warn as though they had given themselves over to you i am submitting to compulsion, and will a madman. seize the first opportunity to turn the tables toward noon the declining wind left them on you." becalmed. there was the usual long, sul westbrook went back to his place, and sat try interval, to be borne with what patience down again. they might. the good news was passed it was an unfortunate moment for jackson around the ship that weaver was better to remark that he himself intended to sue him positively better. he had suddenly become for a quarter of a million damages. “for ab- a very important personage; and the desper- duction,” he said, “not to speak of barratry, ate fight he was making to keep death at bay, piracy, and wrongful dismissal.” everybody's magazine at this westbrook's temper leaped all to use the greatest vigilance, and to see to it bounds. that discipline was not slackened. in idle- “then sue away!” he roared. “sue, sue, ness there is always a disintegrating leaven to sue! and i'll show you up in court for the contend with; and a considerable body of coward you are! yesterday we took your men is more apt to suffer from doing nothing measure, jackson, and if you ever say sue than from doubled tasks. little injustices again, or as much as raise your little finger assume the proportions of mountains; grum- against us, we'll give you the swiftest trial a blers get together and contaminate the rest; man ever got, and a frog-march forward! the food, the commonest cause of all dis- sue, indeed! by heavens, we'll give you content, becomes the subject of furious something to sue for- !” criticism. kirk was so well aware of this jackson bent his head before the storm; that he proposed that they should all fare his cheeks, his ears, the back of his head and fare alike, fore and aft, and evenly slowly turned to crimson. mrs. hitchcock divide such little delicacies as jam and butter took up the challenge he dared not accept, and canned fruit. a rigorous and impartial and, trembling with passion, let fly the lash allowance, without favoritism to any but the of her tongue. sick, would go far toward keeping the mal- the party broke up in disorder. the old contents in order. woman's onslaught could be evaded only by they all foresaw, westbrook, von zedtwitz, flight. there ensued a general sauve qui crawshaw, wicks, goltz, and kirk himself, peut, her strident voice pursuing them as they that camp weaver was likely to become a hurried up the companion. all compro- hotbed of treachery and disloyalty. with mises had become impossible. it was to be every safeguard it would be impossible to war-war to the knife. prevent jackson and mrs. hitchcock from carrying on a propaganda for retreat. with later in the day the wind sprang up as the dazzling inducements the latter could brisk as before. sail was again made, and offer-so tangible and sure, in comparison the fortuna resumed her course. it seemed with a treasure that was conceivably a myth- too bad, when the weather conditions were this period of delay was fraught with extreme so favorable, that they should be condemned danger. to many of these needy adventur- to the tedious period of inaction that they ers a sum of five or ten thousand dollars was had agreed should begin at sundown. by a veritable fortune in itself, and the bait was that time the dead reckoning showed them likely to be greedily taken. the situation to be within miles of cassiquiare, or had to be faced with all the coolness and reso- hardly more than three days distant. lution the leaders could muster; and it was the camp was begun at once beside the determined to keep a close watch on the pair, ship, and though it was not completed before and nip anything of the nature of a con- dark, a comfortable shelter was soon raised for spiracy in the bud. beale especially was to the wounded, and the men were lowered under be under surveillance, though wicks told the supervision of the doctor. there was them that the fellow had lost much of his some disagreement as to whether the camp authority among the crew, and that they were should be fortified or not. one idea was to overrating his capacity for evil. entrench it, and dismount the machine guns for kirk the trying and deadly monotony from the fortuna. but after much consider- of the days that followed had the added bitter- ation it was decided that the mobility of the ness of his estrangement from vera. he had ship was too precious to lose; and that in case apparently affronted her too deeply for for- of emergency it would be wiser to get on giveness. she steadfastly refused his ad- board of her, and repeat, if they could, the vances, kept out of his way all she could, and tactics of the previous battle. under sail she did not even pay him the compliment of be- was a terrible antagonist, and offered them, traying either anger or chagrin. in public- besides, the advantage of flight. even and he never saw her alone-her manner standing she was a better fort than any they toward him was undistinguishable from that could build, and provided them an incom she showed the others. she did not pointedly parably securer refuge. avoid him; she addressed him just enough to a strict routine was outlined, and the petty give the rest no chance for remark; and yet officers, after being assembled, were cautioned her girlish armor was impenetrable. the seventh instalment of “the adventurer" will appear in the september number. anal the probationer and the pennant by hugh pendexter duthor of "tiberius smith," etc. illustrations by horace taylor che met her husband at the porch door in j sour anxiety and, with thin lips pursed, waited for him to speak. he surveyed her harsh face and gaunt figure with twinkling eyes for a few seconds, and then nodded his white head delightedly and, catching her about the waist with one brawny arm, lightly swung her to the window. exultantly he pointed to three men receding down the road, one of them with flowing whiskers streaming sideways, which gave him a fluffy and one- sided appearance. “yas, sarah,” cried he, “it's brother sedg- wick and several of the class members." “drat the man!” she exclaimed, disen- gaging his arm and returning to add vinegar to her steaming pickles. “i seen 'em call at the barn, didn't i? but as i've seen 'em call on you many times before, when their errand brought sorrer to my heart, i want to know what they've decided.” he straightened complacently and was pre- paring to give her a leisurely account of the interview, when she noisily dropped a stick of wood into the stove and fixed on him a look of impatience that was accentuated by the veil of sparks, and he hurried to add, “it's all right this time. i'm to be taken into full membership this coming sunday.” “thank the lawd!" she cried, counterfeit- ing a sob. “then, emory annit, your long probation is ended at last and you'll quit worrying me and can now have the blessed privilege of worshiping in my church.” his face drew down and he plucked at his clean-shaven chin dubiously. “why, sarah, i thought it had been my church all along, seeing how i've been on probation all the time- " “for a mighty long time," she interrupted. “wal, my dear, it's been over long, i'll admit,” he sighed. then, brightening, “but it shows i was set on breaking in some time. now be fair; ain't i tried my dangdest to join the church?” “no, emory,” she denied with artificial evenness. “you've always allowed some- thing to crop out to hinder.” he coughed apologetically and hung his head, while the fine old face struggled between a whimsical smile and a contrite expression. “wal, we'll waive that p’int,” he said, eying her furtively. “i'll only say i've been on the ragged edge of being taken in a dozen times.” everybody's magazine et “gambling is a sin and taking part in trivial things is onreligious,” she reminded him sententiously. “of course ye remember why ye wa'n't taken in last year.” “not in particular," he returned, knitting his brows as if endeavoring to recollect. "is'pose not,” she said in her best sarcastic vein. “nor any- thing about win- ning a hoss race by waving your hat in the face of lem tib- betts's hoss and making him bolt when ye was at the back of the track." he stifled a frightened grin and frowned heavily. “i was protecting my- self,” he pro- tested earnestly. “we was going it neck and neck and lem's hired man was hiding in the bushes to throw a rock at me so's i'd lose. i waved my hat like this," and he fluttered a hand lightly, pantomimic of a falling leaf, or the lazy drifting of rifle smoke," jest to distract his attention.” “then why did the poor brute try to climb over the fence?” she inquired skeptically. “and why did ye offer to bet lem a doller ye could best him again?” “i knew he wouldn't bet, my dear,” he said in mild deprecation, now seeking to retreat. “and it all happened on a saturday,” she continued in a dry monotone, “and on the next day ye wa’n't taken into the church.” “that's so," he groaned, his mouth describing a downward curve. then he pleaded, “but, sarah, jest because a man loves a hoss trot and a baseball game and to see the cattle pull, and is foolish enough to wageronce in a very great while-a measly five-cent seegar on a result, he ain't so awful wicked. ye really don't believe the lawd loves me any the less for that, do ye?”. “i was brought up to believe he frowns on such rinktums,” she returned. he met her steady, convincing gaze for some seconds as she stood with spoon poised above the kettle. then as the spoon fell he bowed his head ruefully, and declared, “wal, it's all over now. i'm through. as such carrying-ons is foolish and have kept me out of the church, i've quit.'em. i wouldn't bet a seegar on the best race ever pulled off — no, not if i was driving. i wouldn't go across the road to see the best ball ever pitched -that is, i don't think i would.” "and know- ing your weak- ness, and re- membering how many times you've backslid at the last min- ute, you'll keep a way from temptation, such as the ball game to-morrer," she suggested almost pleasantly, but very firmly. he winced slightly and drummed several tattoos on the window-pane before replying faintly, “i s'pose i'll have to. i really don't care much about going; only, i don't want to seem to doubt my moral strength. of course there's no harm in my standing in the back- ground and quietly looking on. a church- member who has to scuttle to cover every time a high-stepper sweeps by, or when a man steals second base, can't be of much value to the lawd. i might as well be in a convent if i can't walk abroad like other men.” she straightened her pessimistic lips in a determined line and removed the vinegar quietly, as if fearing to disturb a sleeper. “ye think it ain't safe for me to go?” he per- sisted anxiously. “ye think i really care about going and will hoot and cut up and dis- grace myself and be refused membership on the sabbath?” in a low discord she began humming a hymn, and proceeded to fill little bags with spice. he gazed long and vacantly on the hearth, all enthusiasm blotted from his face. a nutmeg-grater dropped with a clatter. the probationer and the pennant gradually, however, his eyes snapped as he himself hoarse and disporting his sixty-odd happened upon some pleasing retrospect, and years in a manner sure to arouse the class- half fearfully he asked, “s’pose young whit- leader's condemnation. so he bowed to his ten's going to pitch for our boys to-morrer?” fate and a broken gate by the roadside. a nutmeg-grater dropped with a clatter “o mr. annit”-a youthful voice caused and she turned a gaze of grim suspicion on his him to look up—“jim whitten's arm is gone averted face. he scowled at the stove and, lame and we ain't no one to take his place this still avoiding her accusing eyes, sought refuge afternoon.” in the observation, “of course i don't care; emory dropped his hammer and raised only, i was thinking, in a dreamy sort of a himself on his knees with sympathetic dismay way, that with the whitten boy pitching, we creasing his face. “arm gone back on him, -er, peevy's mills oughter win.” wilbur?” he cried. still no comment from her, rigid and dis- the youth, seeing in the old man only trustful. “not that i care much about it, another of his kind, approached nearer. “it as my thoughts are elsewhere,” he con- has,” he almost sniveled; "but we mustn't fidentially explained to the stove. let on, mr. annit." “your thoughts," she suggested bitterly, “sh-h-h, not a word,” agreed emory, “are probably on the time ye was put on tapping his nose knowingly. “who pitches further probation for threatening to lick the for the others ?” empire.” "watkins.” "never intended to harm a hair of his “huh!” groaned emory, his mouth sinking head,” he began earnestly. “he robbed— " another notch. “wal, i'm glad i'm not “wal, ye won't going to see it.” be robbed this "mr. annit!” time," she broke gasped the boy, in, now confront- dropping in de- ing him in ulti- spair on the mate assurance. bank. “not go- “to-morrer ye ing to see it?" keep away from "no, wilbur," that game and replied emory be ready sunday gently, resuming with a clear con- his work and science and a whistling me new shirt to go chanically. “no, with me to wilbur, i have church. we more serious don't want no things to think church-members of." who act like cir- “not going to cuses. to-mor- be there?" rer ye can fuss choked the boy, with the garden tearing up the fence.” grass. and the mor- emory felt a row found him sharp twinge of fetching his tools pain as he stole from the barn; a glance at the but despite the half-crying face, glory of the day "xo, wilbur, i have more serious things to think of." and in a tremu- and the anticipa- lous voice he said tion of the sabbath's reward, there was the soothingly: “of course my sympathies will shadow of a cloud upon his face. temp- be with ye, and i shall hope, as i think of tation whispered that he could view the it whenever i hear the cheering, that our game in placid, dignified quiet; but his boys win.” honest old heart warned him that he would “the game is lost already,” said wilbur be in the thickest of any argument, yelling bitterly, rising. “i never could have believed, . everybody's magazine mr. annit, that you'd ever forsake us. but stay to sunday-school. i'll be there to teach there, we've got a losing team, which makes the class, ye know.” some difference." “i'll tell them and i'll be there for one,” “wilbur!” cried emory, staggering to his sighed the boy, his face softening. feet and shaking a finger before the upturned “that's right,” cried the old man heartily. “it's a bully lesson, wilbur. all about the saviour and the children. he never forgot the younkers." "i guess that's so,” muttered the boy, half abashed. “no, sirree!” continued emory joyously. “and i guess i love him best when he had the children around him. he never sent 'em away, ye see, and he never kept away from 'em, either.” "i know," mumbled the boy bashfully. emory stroked his chin in silence for a few seconds and looked up into the blue. “never kept away from 'em,” he repeated only half aloud. then abruptly, “what time does the į game begin?" “two o'clock," was the listless response. “umph. never quit 'em when he could be with 'em, in their study or in their play, did he? no, sirree! of course not. two o'clock, eh? all right, wilbur. have a brave heart and tell jim whitten to daub on a little more liniment. good-by.” nnn a deep voice boomed across the pasture. the rough pasture lot was fringed with spectators as the two nines opened the last freckled face, “if ye ever say anything like game of the season. the year before, the that again i'll larrup ye, jest to prove i still visitors had won the series. now the teams have ye and them other younkers in mind. were tied and with young whitten in poor why, what d’ye mean, ye ungrateful young form, it looked as if a second defeat would be forsake the boys! why, god bless my soul! scored for peevy's mills. the men lounged when did i ever forsake 'em?” quietly abouton knolls and rocks and “never till now," whimpered wilbur. whittled thoughtfully. the women frowned “wal, i ain't doing it now," defended at the deft practise of the visitors and openly emory weakly. “i'm preparing for weighty exchanged expressions of condolence, careless things and a more serious life. i'm gitting that supporters of the visitors might overhear. too old to be chasing after such rinktums." now it was a curious thing that though then, with pride, “ye see, i'm to be taken mrs. annit had prohibited her husband from into the church to-morrer, and i can't go attending the game, she herself had yielded to there fresh from howling myself hoarse and the pleadings of mr. sedgwick's wife and had sassing the empire at a ball game. i'm com- joined the outer ring of bystanders. she posing my mind to-day, for to-morrer will be had not deemed it necessary to inform her a proud day for me." and the hint of a tear spouse of her destination when she left the glistened in his boyish blue eyes. “and, house, and was now calm and complacent in wilbur, i want ye to tell the others i ain't the knowledge that she was ever immune forgot 'em, and that this strong right arm,” from unseemly enthusiasm. it was also and he bunched corded muscles that time comforting to realize that though she had had only increased, “and this old voice is denied him the spectacle, she could make it always at their sarvice when it don't interfere possible for him to enjoy an eye-witness's with christian grace and dignity. and, report of the game. only, he must not be wilbur, tell 'em all to be at church to-morrer thus delectated until safely within the church. to enjoy my victory over the flesh, as well as to at the outset, young whitten pitched with the probationer and the pennant ranks and assumed control of the home team. so could all the others hear him. some said his voice carried a mile that day. anyway, not a word was lost to the joyous players, as his shrewd old mind engineered a triumph out of difficult and dangerous situations for several innings. then it became obvious that young whitten was failing fast. instead of snapping the ball in hurriedly he paused after each de- livery, as if collecting his strength, and in the eighth inning it was only the loud-voiced advice of emory that kept the score down to five to four in favor of the enemy. “i can't pitch another ball,” sobbed the exhausted youth, throwing himself on his face as the home team was about to take the field for the last inning. "jest once more," coaxed wilbur. “i'd do it if it killed me, if i could. but i can't,” choked the boy. “hurry along with another pitcher," advised the umpire.. “we ain't got another one,” bitterly ad- mitted wilbur, his face grimacing as he all his old-time vigor, but the knowing ones detected a disposition to hurry through the game, as if he had just so much energy to be used within a given period of time. for two innings not a man on either side passed first base, and peevy's mills began to wax confident and to discredit all rumors of a lame arm. but in the third, one of the visitors made a two-base hit and was advanced to third on a single, with none out. "i can't see how folks with mature minds can enjoy a thing like this,” mrs. annit was yawning as the spectators gloomily awaited the first score, apparently inevitable, when a deep voice boomed across the pasture, "remember the play, wilbur." mrs. annit, with an ejaculation of angry sur- prise, craned her neck to scan the outskirts of the crowd across the diamond. “d'ye hear that voice?" she mutured grimly to her com- panion. “d'ye hear that pesky man of mine? and him expecting to be admitted to-morrer.” but mrs. sedgwick, with mouth agape and with eyes only for the sport, was eagerly noting the swift change now apparent in the home team's demeanor, and heard nothing. every man had stiffened at the first word and the infield was grinning with new courage. young whitten almost made a balk as he followed the crowd's example and swiftly turned his head. his arm was completing a final circle as the real significance of the shouted words filtered home, and wilbur, be- hind the bat, gave a sharp yelp of ecstasy -and changed his signal. and the arm, entering upon another circle, made a pretense of cutting the plate, but in reality threw wide and swift, and the man on first, confident in a goodly lead and the man on third as a deterrent, scuttled for second. but wilbur, heeding the old man's call, shot the ball not to second, but to the short-stop; and the man on third, deceived by the short throw, started to score. before the spectators could remember to cheer, the ball was re- turned home and smacked on wilbur's mitt- the runner was out. the next two batters went down quickly. the shouting of the happy crowd at first drowned mrs. annit's remarks, but when the clamor had subsided she repeated, “i see him now. and i left him at home, reading his bible.” and in sour derision she pointed at her husband's sturdy form, now approach ing the side lines. she could hear him, too, as throwing aside all caution he edged his way to the front un w in! su robes "and i left him at home, reading his bible." fought back tears of chagrin. “this is a small village and poor jim was our only man. that's what's done him. he's pitched his arm off.” everybody's magazine “we've got this game," cried emory, found the glooming face of his class-leader, kneeling beside the disconsolate youth, “if but the work before him must now be done, we can only make a shift. there must be and swinging and doubling his arm a few some one." times he cautiously tossed a rainbow that “there ain't no one," said wilbur in wilbur in complete dejection caught with one despair. “even if we could play with eight hand. “try them a little harder," begged men, there isn't a man on the team who the boy. would amount to shucks--not against these “can ye hold me?” beamed the old man, fellers.” now evidencing a degree of elasticity with his “can't stay here all day. if you don't want right leg that caused his wife to gasp in to play it out, we'll take the game," drawled astonishment as she peeped through her the captain of the visitors. “if i had a extra fingers, man, i'd lend him to you. either put in “i could hold a cannon-ball if there was another pitcher-we don't care who-or else only someone to shoot it," lamented the quit." catcher. “play ball, or lose the game," agreed the emory clumsily pivoted on one heel, umpire. “i'll give you two minutes.” stabbed his toe forward, and delivered one “we must git some one,” whispered emory that cut the edge of the plate and sharply in a shaky voice. snapped wilbur's feet and head forward. "talking is all right, but who?” said wil- “that's better,” stuttered the youth; "those bur, jeering, for very bitterness of spirit. are the kind!” “who is there in all peevy's mills that can “batter up!” cried the umpire, and young throw even a swift, straight watkins, shaking with laugh- ball? this is the dodrotted- ter, selected a stick and care- est, dangdest " lessly took his position. “here! quit that, young then did the old man's man,” ordered emory sternly. eyes bulge and before the “i played ball before your bat could be lifted the ball father was old enough to play slapped in wilbur's mitt and marbles. so there's one. only the umpire in a hushed voice we threw nothing but those was saying, “strike one!” straight, underhand balls. i young watkins braced him- don't know anything about self and gazed with new in- these curves you're all learn- terest on the pitcher. the ing nowadays.” next ball went high and was play ball!” cried the um- ignored. then, smack! it pire, snapping his watch was shot back almost as soon cover. and mrs. annit gave as it touched the old man's one low cry of horror as pawing, calloused palms, and she beheld her husband the striker realized that he pulling off his coat as he had swung a second too late. walked awkwardly toward “wal, i never!” grunted the box. mr. sedgwick, adjusting his “and he was going to be glasses more firmly and took in to-morrer," exclaimed frowning heavily as he ad- mrs. sedgwick, while her hus- vanced a few paces. band, who had joined them, “oh, the burning disgrace removed his spectacles and of it!” moaned mrs. annit, examined the lenses before as the jeers and cheers swept he believed that his eyes were “try them a little harder." der." over hor over her. reporting truly. then he “look!” shrieked mrs. grew red of face and ejaculated, “huh!” sedgwick, brushing her husband aside. the monosyllable pierced mrs. annit like “he's got two strikes on the young varmint. a knife and she bowed her head in shame and, mercy! ain't he going to send in a hot as the grinning umpire generously offered, one now!” “i'll give you a few seconds to limber up in." “bet ye a good five-cent seegar ye don't the old man winced a trifle as his eyes strike him out, emory," challenged some one. the probationer and the pennant “take ye!” cried the old man excitedly, caused him to wheel just in time to see a long working both arms in a bewildering manner fly captured in center field. and no scores. as he crouched over the ball, and then spin- “i know," she whimpered; "he's lost his ning about like a gigantic teetotum as he chance. he's lost his chance. and him a held it on high. old man.” “what!” gasped brother sedgwick, drag- “it's too bad,” condoled mrs. sedgwick ging yet a step nearer. piously, relaxing in rigidity as the teams “that settles all,” said mrs. annit dully. crossed on the diamond. “of course the “mister smarty church must frown loses his seegar," on such actions, es- jeered mrs. sedg- pecially in the wick, dancing wildly. old " for emory, after ap- "and especially parently collecting gambling,” reminded every atom of her husband gloom- strength in his tall ily, as he scanned the frame, compressed it preliminary maneu- into his strong right vers of young wat- arm, and with a final, kins. spasmodic show of “he's lost his last fierceness, delivered chance,"sobbed mrs. the ball, but released annit. it so easily and slowly "mebbe,” sighed that young watkins mrs. sedgwick, nod- swung viciously when ding her head. then it was three feet from starting forward, the plate. “but i really believe "abigail!” ejacu- he's going to win the lated the horrified game.” class-leader. for now that “nothing matters peevy's mills was at now," said mrs. bat, emory, oblivious annit, sadly, but " look! he's got two strikes on the young to all but the task with quickening eye before him, was limp- as the crowd hoarse- ing painfully along ly applauded her husband's prowess. the base-line, coaching and kicking up dust “he struck him out,” repeated mrs. as if it had been his daily work from child- sedgwick joyously, as one imparting an ex hood, while young watkins scowled in nerv- clusive news item. ous uncertainty. but the first man up hit it was several seconds before wilbur could short and was beaten by the ball to first. control himself sufficiently to attend to his “don't try to strike 'em so hard. take duties, and even as the ball was being de- it easy,” begged emory of the next youth. livered he stretched forth his arms in an this advice resulted in a leisurely effort and ecstatic desire to embrace the perspiring old the ball just cleared the short-stop's head. man. but the first ball to the next batter “oh, what has he sacrificed!” moaned was only moderately swift and was promptly mrs. annit, wiping her eyes and leaning knocked to short with the runner retiring at forward. first. “he shouldn't sacrifice," snarled the class- “well pitched!” cheered mrs. sedgwick leader. “he should bang, but, anyhow, as the next man dodged. that's one man on base.” “i'm surprised at ye,” grieved her husband, a pop-fly retired the next batter and sent pushing a small boy aside. then decisively, the spectators back from the pasture into the “he ain't gitting 'em high enough.” shadows of the fringing trees. as he spoke, a two-bagger was pounded out “pretty didoes for a would-be church- and he sniffed heavily and frowned on the member to be cutting up," growled a towns- staring mrs. annit. “sister, i'm sorry," he man standing near. began in his official voice, when a shout “it's all over. we might as well go home," varmint!" za ta Пора "i am here on a sad errand, brother annit." said mr. sedgwick testily, clutching his he caught her words even above the up- wife's arm. then to the sad-faced mrs. roar and in pleased wonder glanced up the annit, “try and bear up, sister. i'm sorry third base-line where three figures, apart from my duty called me here to witness his lack the others, were prancing stiffly and madly of grace, of—ah-moral fiber. ahem. but waving handkerchiefs. some one must act the spy-ah-in order that with a broad smile of renewed confidence gossip shall not-ahem-wrong a man. now he turned to his work, but the second of that we know of our own knowledge " inattention cost him dear, as already the “hooray for emory!” broke in the frenzied umpire was reluctantly calling a strike. crowd, and in the middle of a word sedgwick “robber!” cried a voice, which some said stopped and stared as one fascinated at the old resembled sedgwick's. man approaching the plate. “keep watch of it, emory,” shrieked a “it'll soon be over. it is over-" began woman. mr. sedgwick, wetting his dry lips and un- “hooray! hooray!" clamored the crowd. consciously crowding forward to the base-line, and emory, catching the fever, stepped up closely attended by his wife and mrs. annit. and down as if treading on live coals, and “naturally a good man, too,” he con- pounded the plate hungrily. tinued in his wife's ear, and then added, “one ball!” cried the umpire. “but the sun's in his eyes and he's a goner.” “wait for a nice one, husband." mrs. annit, catching only the last word, “two strikes!” continued the umpire. changed in demeanor and countenance most “hit it! swat it, brother!” wonderfully. with flashing eyes she con “two balls!" barked the umpire. fronted the astounded class-leader and “hooray! hooray!” shouted, “ye think so, do ye? ye think so, and emory, setting his jaws, allowed no eh? wal, let me tell ye, church or no church, more to pass him, but met the next with a my man ain't lost yet- mighty crash, and the man on first began “why, he may make first,” spluttered cantering home. sedgwick. “one will tie! two will win!” sobbed mrs. “go it, emory!" encouraged mrs. annit sedgwick, and the crowd, realizing that a shrilly, now ignoring the sedgwicks. “go home run meant victory for peevy's mills, it! whang that contraption out of sight.” ran imploringly along the base-line and the probationer and the pennant pleaded for the slow-footed runner to ac- celerate his gait. “oh, faster, faster, emory!” cried his wife, as she stood wringing her hands at third and in agony watched him slowly turn second base, while the center-fielder was speeding swiftly after the ball. "faster. jest a mite faster, em,” she sobbed, as with a strained, exultant face he staggered toward her, while his class-leader, with body rocking, extended his arms and gave an excellent pantomime of a man rescuing a fellow creature by pulling in a rope. "he's got the ball!” bawled the crowd in warning as emory turned the last corner and pounded heavily along for home. "slide!” bellowed the class-leader, as the fielder shot the ball to second, whence it was hurtled home. a cloud of dust answered the warning. "he never teched him," choked mrs. an- nit, who had tottered along beside her spouse until he plunged headlong for the plate. "not by a foot," agreed the red-faced umpire. “wife, come home," commanded mr.sedg- wick sourly as he straightened her bonnet. an hour later mrs. annit stood by the kitchen sink anxiously studying her husband's bowed and dusty form. “emory,” she said softly, "it was a nice game and ye played beautifully.” “thanks,” he returned dully. “but i want ye to promise ye'll never play it again." "i've quit,” he sighed, not lifting his head. “quit when it's too late.” “and-and, i want to say,” she faltered, “i rather liked the dashing way ye played.” "i used to be a hummer," he confided in sad complacency. “and—but lawd! here's brother sedg- wick and some o' the other brethren." "i'll meet 'em in the yard,” he announced ruefully, as he rose. "no," she begged, her face softened. “i'm to blame, too; i cheered ye on a bit. let's meet it together-here." he turned to her in wonder and rubbed his head dubiously. "i thought ye'd have it in for me- come in.” brother sedgwick headed the delegation and without accepting a chair said, after coughing dryly, “i am here on a sad errand, brother annit. ye was at a ball game to-day.” the accused bowed his head meekly. “and we also hear ye played in a ball game to-day and displayed a lack of dignity that ain't becoming to a church-member," brother durgin harshly took up the charge. “he won the game,” wailed mrs. annit, taking her husband's hand. “and we hear ye wagered a seegar," com- pleted brother weevy sternly. emory sighed deeply and made an affirma- tive noise. “all of which is very bad,” said brother sedgwick sorrowfully. “the game might be overlooked, but the seegar is bad, very bad." “he said a good five-cent—" began emory, who had been lost in introspection. “it's all very bad,” repeated brother sedgwick, with a slight touch of temper. “i know what ye mean," groaned emory. “but it's the hardest on my wife, here. my intentions was good— ” “ahem!” broke in the class-leader, study- ing the floor thoughtfully. “the ball playing could be overlooked, if ye'd promise never to play it again, or football, without the church's consent. but of course—i'm sorry to say it—the gambling " “i suppose it would help some if he refused to take the seegar," suggested durgin softly. “refuse to take it!” cried emory. “why, i bet with bill hussey an' he'll never pay it. wild hosses couldn't drag it from him. i know, because once " “tut, tut," broke in brother sedgwick. “why, then,” declared brother weevy, "there really wa’n't no wager made. i believe, brother sedgwick, we-eh?”. “why, i'm inclined to say-ahem! mr. annit, are ye using any liniment on that arm?” inquired the class-leader anxiously. “no," sighed emory. “wal, ye'd better. anyhow, if it's lame to-morrer, don't let that keep ye from church.” “i'm-i'm-ye don't mean—" stuttered the old man wistfully. “he's to be took in?" gasped mrs. annit. “yaas," drawled brother sedgwick, grin- ning lamely. “all the boys will be there. good day.” and the delegation departed. but before the astounded couple could find words, the door creaked open a few inches and brother sedgwick's face, radiant with ad- miration, was thrust in to observe, “great game, em. simply g-r-e-a-t." * * ax little storie of real life a good shot “whew! reg'lar bronco-buster!” said a good-natured jeerer at the girl's elbow. by charlotte wilson “plumb woolly, ain't she?" responded his companion heartily. w ow! look at the cow-lady!” “good leg,” contributed a third, clinching mr. dial, riding at the girl's right, the matter laconically. turned fiercely upon the speaker. the wag the girl's imperturbable face showed no was a well-dressed young man, with his hat change of expression, but for the fraction of on one side, leaning against a post. he a second, it wavered upward toward the face laughed, but made no further comment. sis of her big companion. bill wore his usual herself turned her unbetraying gaze upon easy-going smile. him for an unmoved instant, then she glanced mr. dial was already clearing his throat, at the rider on her left. he was looking in preparation for his congenial duties. he back over his shoulder at a girl who had was a wiry, smooth-shaven man of about paused in a shop door to gaze after the passing fifty, with a sort of grudging agility in his trio. movements. nature had designed him for it was small wonder that she looked at bill. a showman; never was his small, stiff figure so in spite of his buckskin shirt and breeches, effective, his shrewd blue eyes were never so his spurs, his sombrero-above all, the long, alert, as when he stood in the center of a circle black, artificial curls falling crisply about his of incredulous, smiling faces. first, he in- splendid shoulders—not a man on the street troduced bill, giving a lively sketch of his ear- would have mistaken him for a real cowboy. ly life which that desperado—had he been he was too realistic to be convincing, too listening-would have been the last to recog- spectacular, too complete. of his remark- nize. next, he reached the place in his stream able good looks, however, there could hardly of picturesque hyperbole where the girl, be two opinions. a fine smile lurked in his knowing her cue, stepped forward. lazy eyes; his huge body fell naturally into “this here," proceeded mr. dial, “is my lines of shiftless grace. little girl. me an' her usually assists more or sis was thin and young, with a sort of less at the great wild bill's performances. weather-beaten hardihood and reserve. she for a lady ropist and rider, she is as remark- had a trick of smiling with her blue eyes out of able as her famous prototype.” mr. dial a face half contemptuous, half indulgent, that was evidently under the impression that that was strangely winning. her usual attitude, substantive indicated bill very neatly and however, was one of businesslike severity. euphoniously. “but her main accomplish- when the three reached the improvised ments is in the shootin' line. i'll guarantee exhibition-grounds, their destination, bill that she'll show you gentlemen some shootin' flung his huge body dramatically from the to-day that'll raise your hair!” saddle, and sis dismounted with the exagger- finally, mr. dial outlined his unique plan ated sprightliness that her uncle and manager, of proceeding. denuded of verbal ornament, mr. dial, had been at such pains to teach it was simply this: first, bill was to give “a her. they tied their ponies to a straggling few specimens of his shootin'." next, he and fence and made their way through the scat- sis were to pass among the crowd and pin a tering crowd to the open place whither mr. pink ticket, such as mr. dial held aloft as he dial had impatiently preceded them. talked, on every man's coat. “ladies," con- little stories of real life ceded mr. dial with a gallant flourish, "is d uring the interval mr. dial had allowed free." after the performance, the decorative for the distribution of the pink tickets, it pink tickets were to be collected, together with caused her to look up involuntarily from her “two bits” from every honest spectator they businesslike attention to her task. she had adorned. well aware of the weak point glanced across at the group, just in time to see in his scheme, mr. dial artfully insinuated bill replacing his sombrero. the young men his unshakable faith in the crowd's incorrupti- were still laughing hilariously. it seemed ble honesty, and his contempt for “them as that one person in the crowd had seized would take somethin' fer nothin'.” as a the opportunity to shake the hand of the special reward for fair dealing, he added that celebrity. any one who felt so inclined would have the at last the time came for the collection of golden opportunity to “shake the hand of the the tickets. bill and mr. dial had shot from celebrity.” every possible point of disadvantage. bill “one word more, gentlemen," he con- had even given his great exhibition of horse- cluded. “this here little girl," he said taming, which consisted in dashing elabo- slowly, “ 's i said before, is my little girl. it rately around the ring a few times upon a ain't necessary to say more'n that to gentle- perfectly moral and conservative animal hired men.” his keen blue eyes glittered mean- from the livery-stable, whose only claim to ingly over the crowd. then he called out viciousness rested upon the possession of a briskly, “wild bill, the great texas cowboy, mane and tail of stygian black. the girl, will now begin on the first act: out from in her collecting, had reached a point not under, gentlemen!” far from the laughing group, when she was the exhibition went off with a flourish. startled by an angry oath. the man chal- the two men shot between legs and over lenged promptly retorted in kind. suddenly shoulders; shot marbles tossed into the air the altercation dropped as abruptly as it had into little whiffs of dust; begun, and sis followed and performed other im- the general movement of possible feats with stu- heads and craning of died ease. sis stood necks to see bill passing quietly by, handing her quietly on, and to hear uncle the small accessories his soft drawl, this time of the performance, and with a peculiar edge to surveying the crowd. its good humor, saying they were arranged in a contemptuously, “didn't pretty compact semicircle you see that lady yonder, about the little grassy de- you fool?” pression. there were the last great act was not many women among about to begin. bill lay them. on the extreme stretched on the grass, left tip of the crescent, reclining on one elbow, however, a smart little in an attitude of the equipage had just drawn most approved pictur- up, containing one femi- esqueness. his head was nine figure that sis in- piu kolcandiata) thrown back, his splendid stantly recognized. the chest displayed to the rough wind blew long, best advantage, his eyes graceful wisps of the girl's dark hair across were traveling recklessly across the inter- her face. she had a pretty, irritated way of vening stretch of grass to the girl on the putting it back as she talked to the young edge of the crowd. sis stood a few yards men who had gathered about her. sis did away, alert, waiting. her face, unrelieved not miss a detail of her dress, the victorious by that surprising blue-eyed light of her poise of her little head, the soft, musical rush smile, was weather-worn and unenchanting. of her chattering voice. it was the girl who yet it was very young; its very hardness had paused in the shop and smiled at bill rendered the fact of its youth more ap- as he passed. again and again her soft, gay parent. her hair was sunburnt to the lus- laugh was blown across to the girl in the terless straw color of her face, and strag- arena. gled into her eyes in straight wisps. she as nu the passing trio. everybody's magazine wore a short corduroy skirt, with the un- dishes came intermittently from somewhere lovely hitch in the front and despondent in the rear. droop in the back that is the unpardon- without stirring, bill opened his eyes. he able sin in such a garment. yet there was turned them idly to the window, where they something in the slight, rough figure and un- rested upon the small profile, with its short smiling face that inspired respect. nose and drooping mouth. it was a young “we are now ready, ladies and gentle- girl's face, a very young girl's face; but it had men,” announced mr. dial impressively, “for all the repression, the uncomforted patience, the last great act. i must request you to be of a woman's. something like this passed quiet fer a few minutes, as this here's a tick- through bill's mind as he lay staring at it; lish performance. i call yer attention to the it roused a strange, slow interest there. he fact that the great texas cowboy is smok- felt strange, anyhow ; curiously clean and ing a cigar. this here little girl will, in a comfortable, detached from everything he minute, shoot the ashes off'n that there had ever seen or known, even from his ac- cigar slick as a whistle, without disturbin' customed self. his enjoyment of its superior flavor in “sis!” he called softly. the leastwise.” then, under cover of the the girl turned. after a moment's hesi- ripple of amusement that followed, he mut- tation she rose from her place and crossed tered kindly, “dang it, sis, watch out fer the the room to the bed. her heels struck wind!” sharply on the bare floor. as she came the girl answered with a curt nod, and within the circle of light from the lamp, the took her station in silence. the crowd be- man saw that her eyes were red. again he came very still. bill lay motionless, osten- was conscious of a strange stir of feeling. sibly gazing across at the hazy trees of “sit down, sis,” he commanded gently. the distant, encircling woods. sis took aim the girl sat down upon the side of the bed, steadily, her trained eye upon the cap of near the foot. ashes on the tip of the half-finished cigar. “bone-tinkers gone?” asked the man. suddenly, across the wind-whipped silence, his voice, always slow and gentle, had that rippled the soft rush of that laughing voice, additional quality that pain so soon puts “oh, please tell her not to kill him! isn't into a man's voice--a helpless note that goes he splendid?” swiftly home to the hearts of women folk. her eye wavered involuntarily. at the same the girl nodded without raising her eyes. instant came mr. dial's familiar “ready- a gleam of bill's old fun shone in his eyes. go!” and the next, the crowd heard the sharp “say you'd kil't me, sis?”. report, and began rushing toward the center “no," she answered shortly. of the arena. in an instant mr. dial was bill laughed sympathetically. “well, that's upon the spot, waving the crowd away with all right, sis," he said kindly. “told hep an authoritative arm, while he slipped the he'd ought to do that there cigar act his- other with swift skill under the fallen head of self, to-day. best shot can't always 'low the man on the grass. the girl stood un- jest right fer the wind.” noticed, watching the scene with wide eyes, there was no answer. it was part of bill's motionless, until she heard mr. dial's voice strange state that he began to feel embar- sing out cheerily: rassed. sis sat staring down at her hands, "clear the way now, please, gentlemen! twisting them together in her lap. he's comin' to—it's nothin' but the shoulder. suddenly he felt the bed shake. there my little girl here, she fergot to 'low fer the was the strange sound of a sob in the room. wind!” “why-si-is!” said the man, stupefac- tion in his voice. he tried to raise himself sis sat at the window of the oak leaf on his elbow, but the pain in his shoulder hotel. sometimes she cast a quick glance caught him, and he dropped back, white across the room, to where, by the low-turned through his tan. light of the kerosene lamp, the huge figure “come here, sis,” he said weakly. outlined under the bedclothes could be seen the girl obeyed. he laid his free arm lying perfectly still. at the restaurant across about her heaving shoulders. the way they were chopping chilli-meat. in “why, si-is!” he repeated helplessly. the house there was the savory, pervasive s he only shook convulsively, while the smell of cooking; and the cheerful clatter of sound of her sobbing filled the room. he little stories of real life "this here is my little girl." took his arm from her shoulders and patted slow, strange thoughts. the smells and the rough head clumsily. sounds of cheerful preparation in the house as- “why, sis!” he expostulated at last, in his sailed his senses, and gradually made their way soft, slow voice. “i never seen you take on into his thoughts, connecting them in a new like this—never did, sure! i thought you way with good, wholesome, homely things. wasn't the cryin' “sis," he said kind, sis-sure i did! softly. an' here you go, tak- she crept a little in' on 'cause you give closer, but made no old bill a scratch- answer. he ain't no good no- “i've knowed you how-all on account ever since you was a of a pesky wind that baby, sis," said bill, nobody-" in a slow, husky at last she broke in voice. then an odd wildly. "it wa’n't note of bashfulness the wind!” she said. crept into it. “i bill's eyes widened reckon i've been a in the dim light. considerable fool, “what you mean, sis,” he said. sis?” heasked gently. the girl made a “o bill, don't little, violent move- you know?" she ment. it gave bill burst out despairing- a twinge, but in his ly. then, with a eyes there dawned fierce change of atti- lokas wolcott adam the wan forerunner tude, “there there of a grin. “i'm ain't nothin' to tell! darned sure i have, only—” she stopped short, strangling her sis,” he amended gently. sobs. she suffered him to draw her back to him, the man's face had taken on a curious and bill grew grave again, as if he were look- change. his big hand shook a little as he ing into the future, and his slow vision saw patted her shoulder. “go on, sis,” he said new pictures there. he patted the girl gently, soothingly. “tell old bill all about it.” from time to time, as he followed his thoughts. she spoke at last, in a strange voice, shaken after a while he spoke again. "look at now and then by a hard, recurrent sob. “it me, sis,” he said. was that girl,” she said, her face turned away. she lifted her head—the small, fierce face “she had black eyes. when we was col- and the telltale eyes. he looked at her for a lectin' an' men joshed about me in the crowd, long moment. you never paid no attention; you never do. “sis,” he said presently, and though he hep, he always jumps on to 'em when he spoke jocularly, his voice shook, “that was a hears 'em, but you never care whut they say good shot o'yourn. far's i can see, it blew but when that guy kicked up that row near up the whole bloomin' rejeem.” then the old where she was, you jumped on to him, quick odd note of embarrassment crept in. “look enough! she's a lady. i wasn't three here, sis,” he blurted at last, “what d'you say yards away, but i've heard cussin' before, and to us gettin' married right off-soon's we can i ain't got black eyes ner fine clothes—" she patch up this here offendin' member-an' checked herself with a hard sob. quittin' this here fake-show business fer “go on, sis,” said the man. good, an' livin' sort o’genteel an' respectable? the girl was silent. then, at last: “there think that'd suit you any better-eh, sissy?” ain't nothin' else. but-it wa’n’t the wind!” for once she acted without repression or the man's sick body was trembling. restraint. she took his face between her “come up here, sis—come closer,” he said. hands with a fierce movement of possession with a broken sob she obeyed; and for a and kissed him. then she rose unsteadily long time he held her as she crouched beside to her feet. him, her face hidden, while he stared up into bill held fast to her hand. “wher the dim-lit room with eyes that mirrored many goin' now, sis?” he asked reproachfully. everybody's magazine a strange smile of woman-wisdom looked bors might not wish to become an architect, down at him out of the girl's blue eyes. but if he were transported to paris or vienna “i'm goin' to see to yer supper,” she an to a confrontation of what is excellent in swered huskily. proportion, it might be that art would stir in his spirit and, after years of imitation, would come forth in a stately and exquisite proces- sion of buildings. so in his native woods the parrot the parrot recognizes nothing but color that is worthy ci his imitation. but in the by gouverneur morris habitations of man, surrounded by taste, which is the most precious of all gifts, his lte had been so buffeted by fortune, ambition begins to grow, his ignorance be- through various climates and various comes a shame. he places his foot on the applications of his many-sidedness, that when first rung of the educational ladder. his i first met leslie it was difficult to believe him bright colors fade, perhaps; the eyes of his a fellow countryman. his speech had been mind are turned toward brighter and more welded by the influence of alien languages to ornamental things. what creature but a a choice cosmopolitanism. his skin, thick parrot devotes such long hours to the and brown from blazing sunshines, puckered acquirement of perfection in each trivial stage monkey-like about his blue, blinking eyes. of progress? what creature remembers so he never hurried. he was going to hong- faithfully and so well? we know not what kong to build part of a dry dock for the we are, you and i and the rest of us; but if english government, he said, but his am we had had the application, patience, and bitions had dwindled to owning a farm some ambition of the average parrot, we should be where in new york state and having a regu- greater men. but some people say that par- lar menagerie of birds and animals. rots are mean, self-centered, and malignan, his most enthusiastic moments of conver- they have, i admit, a crust of cynicism whic. sation were in arguing and might lead to that impres - anecdotalizing the virtues sion, and not unjustly, buv and ratiocinations of ani- underneath the parrot's mals and birds. the crotchets there beats a monkey, he said, was next great and benevolent to man the most clever, heart. let me give you but was inferior to the an instance. elephant in that he had “in ' my luck was no sense of right or wrong. down, and as a first step furthermore, monkeys to raising it i shipped were im modest. next before the mast in an came certain breeds of english bottom outward dogs. very low in the bound from hongkong to scale he placed horses; java. jaffray was the very high, parrots. cook, a big negro who “concerning parrots,” owned a savage gray par- he said, “people are un- rot-a mighty clever bird der erroneous impressions, but to all intents and pur- but copying and imitation poses of a most unscru- are not unreasonable proc- pulous and cruel nature. esses. your parrot under many a time her clever- his bright cynical feathers ness at provoking a laugh is a modest fowl that phu wolcotton was all that saved her grasps at every opportu- "i was fiercely attacked." from sudden death. she nity of education from the bit whom she could; she best source-man. in a native state his intel- stole what she could. she treated us like ligence remains closed: the desire to be like a dogs. only jaffray could handle her without woodpecker or a humming-bird does not pick a weapon. him she loved and made love to at the cover. just as a boy born in an indiana with a sheepish and resolute abandon. from village and observing the houses of his neigh- him she endured the rapid alternations of nts little stories of real life whippings and caressings with the most sto- failed. polly sat in the stern sheet' timidly ical fortitude and self-restraint. when he cooing and offering to shake hands. at an- whipped her she would close her eyes and other time i should have burst laughing at say: 'i could bite him, but i won't. polly's her—she was so coy, so anxious to please. a bad girl. hit her again. when the but i had just arrived from seeing my cap- whipping was over she tain's head broken to would say: 'polly's pieces by a falling spar sore. poor polly! how and a good friend of i pity that poor girl!' mine stabbed by an- love - making usually other good friend of succeeded a whipping mine, and i was nearer in short order, and then to tears. she was at her best. “it was cold for that she would turn her part of the world, and head to one side, cast rain fell heavily from the most laughably time to time. polly provoking glances, hold complained bitterly all one claw before her night and said that face, perhaps, like a she would take her skeleton fan, and say: death o'cold, but in don't come fooling the morning (i had round me. go away, fallen asleep) she you bad man.' waked me in her pleas- "i tried my best to antest and most satis- be friends with her. fied voice, saying, but only to prove that lobus wolwi (issus “tumble up for break- the knack that i am •• poor polly," said she." fast.' i pulled myself supposed to have with out of the rain-water birds and beasts has its limitations. with into which i had slipped, and sat up. the one long day following another and oppor- sky and sea were clear from one horizon to tunity constantly at hand, i failed utterly the other and the sun was beginning to in obtaining her friendship. indeed, she scorch. was so lacking in breeding as to make “bully and warm, ain't it?' said polly. public mockings of my efforts. there was “right you are, old girl,' said i. no man before the mast but stood higher “she perched on my shoulder and began in her graces than i. my only success was to oil and arrange her draggled feathers. in keeping my temper. but it was fated that “what a hell of a wreck that was,' she we should be friends and comrades, drawn said suddenly, and, after a pause: ‘where's together by the bonds of a common suffering. my nigger?' "i will tell you the story of the wreck an- “'he's forsaken you, old girl,' said i, ‘for other time. in some ways it was peculiar. i mother carey's chickens.' will only tell you now that i swam for a long “'poor polly,' said she; 'how i pity that time (there was an opaque fog) and bumped poor girl.' my head against one of the ship's boats. i “now i don't advance for a moment the seized the gunnel and said, 'steady her, theory that she understood all that she said, please, while i climb in,' but had no answer. nor even a part of what i said. but her state- the boat, apparently, had torn loose from ments and answers were often wonderfully her davits and gone voyaging alone. but as apt. have you ever known one of those i made to climb in i was fiercely attacked in tremendously clever deaf people whom you the face by the wings, beak, and claws of may talk with for a long time before dis- jaffray's graceless parrot. in the first sur- covering that they are deaf? talking with prise and discomfiture i let go and sank. poor jaffray's parrot was like that. it was coming up, choking with brine and fury, i only occasionally—not often, mind—that her overcame resistance with a back-handed phrases argued an utter lack of reasoning blow, and tumbled over the gunnel into the power. she had been educated to what i boat. and presently i was aware that suppose to be a point very close to the limit violence had succeeded where patience had of a parrot's powers. at a fair count she had everybody's magazine memorized a hundred and fifty sentences, a the wickedness of it. all the sins i had ever dozen songs, and twenty or thirty tunes to sinned, all the lies i had told, all the mean- whistle. many savages have not larger vo- nesses i had done, the drunks i had been cabularies; many high-born ladies have a less on, the lusts i had sated, came back to me gentle and cultivated enunciation. let me from the bilge-water. and i knew that if i tell you that had i been alone in that boat, a died then and there i should go straight to young man, as i then was, who saw his am- hell if there was one. i made divers trials bitions and energies doomed to a watery and at repentance but was not able to concentrate abrupt finish, with a brief interval of starva- my mind upon them. i could see but one tion to face, i might easily have gone mad. hope of salvation—to die as i had not lived but i was saved from that because i had like a gentleman. it was not a voluminous somebody to talk to. and to receive confi- duty, owing to the limits set upon conduct dence and complaint the parrot was better by the situation, but it was obvious. what- fitted than a human being, better fitted than a ever pangs i should experience in the stages woman, for she placed no bar of reticence, of dissolution, i must spare polly and i could despair as i pleased and on my “in view of what occurred it is sufficiently own terms. obvious that i read my duty wrongly. for, “my clothes dried during the first day, and when i was encouraging myself to spare the at night she would creep under my coat to bird i should rather have been planning sleep. at first i was afraid that during un to save her. she, too, must have been suf- consciousness i should roll on her. but she fering frightfully from the long-continued lack was too wary for that. if i showed a tend- of her customary diet, but it seems that while ency to sprawl or turn over, she would wake enduring it she was scheming to save me. and pierce my ears with a sharp 'take your “she had been sitting disconsolately on the time! take your time!' gunnel when the means struck suddenly into “at sunrise every day she would wake me her tortuously working mind and acted upon with a hearty “tumble up for breakfast.' her demeanor like a sight of sunflower seeds, “unfortunately there was never any break- of which she was prodigiously fond. if i fast to be had, but the rain-water in the bot- follow her reasoning correctly it was this: tom of the boat, warm as it was and tasting the man who has been so nice to me needs of rotting wood, saved us from a more fright food. he can't find it for himself; therefore ful trial. i must find it for him. thus far she rea- “here is a curious fact. after the second soned. and then, unfortunately, trusting night i realized and counted every hour in too much to a generous instinct, and disre- all its misery of hunger and duration, yet i garding the most obvious and simple calcu- cannot, to save my soul, remember how lation, she omitted the act of turning around, many days and nights passed between the and instead of laying the egg that was to wreck and that singular argument for a par- save me in the boat, she laid it in the ocean. rot's power of reasoning that was to be ad- it sank.” vanced to me. it suffices to know that many days and nights went by before we began long voyages make for dulness. i had to die of hunger. listened to the above narrative with so much "in what remained of the rain-water (with interest as to lose for a moment my sense the slow oscillations of the boat it swashed of what was patent. in the same absurd about and left deposits of slime on her boards) way that one man says to another whom he i caught from time to time glimpses of my knows perfectly well, “what-is this you?" i face as affected by starvation. said to leslie very eagerly, and it may interest you to know “were you saved?" and he that it was not the leanness of answered, “no; we were both my face that appalled me but drowned.” time m sit eu le falsas tlemin a row of books by johan barrett mr. george ade's humor is, i think, very generally regarded as a wine that needs no bush. but the truth is that much of it has been diverted to uses for which it was neither fitted nor in tended. mr. ade's fables, like mr. dooley's dissertations, do not bear transportation in bulk. they are vins du pays, refreshingly welcome in the open at harvest-time, or at the inn as one rests in passing; but it is a mistake to lay them down in bottle. in fact neither mr. ade's fables, nor mr. dooley's commentaries, nor, for that matter, any racy humor intended for singular and intermittent enjoyment, should be done into books. they cannot be read seriatim without cloying, and it is almost beyond ordinary con- tinence to pick up a book of such things and not sicken oneself of them before laying it down. but mr. ade has just published a story which, since it is written to be read as a whole, and since it has all the point and flavor of his most spon- taneous moods, may be enjoyed without fear of surfeit. it is called “the slim princess" (bobbs-merrill) and sketches the career of the ugly duckling of a turkish harem, a young lady whom, to her family's despair, no treatment could bring to a marriageable fatness. the book is most alluringly illustrated and is altogether a witty and laughable bit of nonsense. out the grossest injustice, be likened to any portion of a “boiled dinner," it may stand for an excellent and creamy rice pudding. the basis of the story, which is written by margaret p. montague, is a mission of vengeance laid upon a young boy in the mountains of west virginia by his dying father. the tale is full of variety, of action, and of a distinctly individual if somewhat idyllic responsiveness to nature. its characters and its descriptions both show the author to be moving on fondly familiar ground. yet one never-and here is the novel's determining flavor by which, according to one's taste, one may safely take it or leave it-one never doubts that one is being guided under the good old considerate rules of fiction and not under the ruthless laws of life. an unsmiling and sober proposal to incorpo- rate the brotherhood of man under the laws of the state of new jersey is not, on its face, an announcement one is apt to regard overseriously. yet this, as far as one can judge from the brief prospectus at the end of a bulky introductory volume just published, is to be the approximate modus operandi of “gillette's social redemp- tion" (turner). the temptation to dub the affair "the millennium, limited,” and pass it up with a laugh or a shrug is obvious. but in spite of its openness to ridicule, in spite of its unfortunate failure to give any adequate ex- planation of the promised “redemption,” the volume is neither valueless nor negligible. civilization as we practise it is in need of a re- deemer; and, god-sent or devil-sent, it is sooner or later going to find one. it is not that condi- tions to-day are more heinous in their unjustness than they have been in times past, but that a more intelligent, a more organized, and a more wide-spread conviction of the necessity of doing something about it is taking hold upon the popu- lar conscience. the more people that are in- i remember once, in the long ago when the fifth avenue hotel still stood for the ultimate attainment in the possibilities of the "american plan," seeing a sturdy individual who was seated at my table wade confusedly through the all- embracing bill of fare and then ask for corned beef and cabbage with the relief of one who plays a safety in an unfamiliar game. the incident seems to emphasize the wisdom of including a homely and wholesome dish or two even in a literary menu, and, while “the sowing of alderson cree” (baker & taylor) cannot, with- everybody's magazine duced to realize this, the smoother will be the conversion of the world when the day of revela- tion dawns. mr. melvin l. severy, the author of the book in question, has undertaken to com- pile for his readers what one might call a gazetteer of contemporary injustice. it is not entertaining it is not literature. it is not sensationalism. it is simply a stupendous recapitulation of more or less familiar facts and conditions, quoted from more or less authoritative sources, and connected by the author's running comment. without therefore, passing any anticipatory judgment upon gillette's redemption trust, we venture to call the body of mr. Ševery's book to the atten- tion of those who are willing to look the facts and the future in the face. with professional accuracy. charles wagner has flattered us. and many less distinguishable voices have said their less audible say about us. but no one of them has quite managed to catch us unawares, to eliminate from our portrait the stern frown or the conscious smirk of him who is sitting for his photograph. it has re- mained for albert kinross, in a delightful volume of informally connected sketches called “daven- ant” (dodd, mead), to contrive with a wholly disarming courtesy, and with all the convincing- ness of the unexpected, to hold up a mirror for us to look into. the scheme of the book is as ingenuous as are most successful ambuscades. davenant was an english writer, a scholar, and an idealist, wholly unsuccessful and unrecognized at home, but supported, not only physically, but in his ambitions and self-respect, by a scattered and occasional recognition across the atlantic. america and the americans had thus come to stand to him for the land of his desires and the blood-brothers of his dreams. now and again one of these distant admirers, or one of their emissaries, came to him in his retreat, and it is by elaborating these encounters that mr. kinross fills out his estimate of america by one who had never seen it. the whole thing is so charmingly done; is so complete in its apparent fragmentari- ness and so direct in its seeming obliquity, that one commends it with assurance to all who ap- preciate the delicacy of a flank attack. two volumes descriptive of widely differing but equally successful achievements of individual daring and resourcefulness are found among the recent publications and make, each in its own way, interesting or absorbing reading. one of these is dillon wallace's “the long labrador trail” (outing), a modest and unassuming record that will thrill the most intrepid lover of the portage, the rapid, and the open sky. mr. wallace was leonidas hubbard's companion in his tragic attempt upon this same wilderness in . the present volume describes how, with four others, he returned to the attack, followed a lost indian trail to lake michikamau, and thence, with a single companion, penetrated the unknown wil- derness, found the upper waters of the george river, and followed that tumbling torrent to its mouth on the north coast. the other is called “the events man” (moffat, yard), and is written by richard barry. it contains an account of stanley washburn's three months' cruise in the tugboat fawan while acting as news- scout and despatch-bearer during japan's war with russia. the story is set down much as washburn told it to the author later on, in man- churia. it is decidedly more picturesque than literary, but in its spicy and idiomatic vocabulary, a conglomerate of colloquialism, pidgin-english, and journalese, it both expresses the daredevil spirit of newspaper enterprise and presents a panorama of the human riffraff that watched for plunder on the coasts of the yellow sea. katherine cecil thurston's truncated novel. "the mystics” (harper), is even more disap- pointing than “the gambler,” which itself failed to keep the promise of “the masquerader.” the mystics are a small sect of religious fanatics whose stock in trade consists of a book of revela- tions, a hidden temple in scotland, a head- quarters in london the fittings of which smack of black paper cambric and phosphorus, and a firm belief in the present appearance of an in- spired prophet. the hero of mrs. thurston's tale is the nephew of one of the inner council who, when his uncle disinherits him in favor of the hierarchy, impersonates the prophet in order to regain his patrimony. the elaborate stage setting for the presumably coming drama has just been set up and the actors have but made their several entrances and indicated their rôles, when the final curtain is suddenly rung down upon a tableau hurriedly contrived and strongly sug- gestive of an accident behind the scenes. there is, however, no use in advising us not to read “the mystics." we may have every confidence in the alertness of the literary lookout who sounds the warning. we may, and probably will, con- firm his judgment after the event. but the piquancy of "the masquerader” is still fresh enough in our recollections to make most of us we americans have had many chances lately of seeing ourselves as others choose to see us. mr. james has used us as a reagent to test the freshness of his own acumen. mr. howells has poured over our achievements and our ideals the almost emollient lotion of his gentle satire. mr. wells has looked us over and sized us up a row of books want to find out for ourselves, not only whether, but why, the author's latest story is a blank. in other words we are in like case with the setter pup which, having once unearthed a woodchuck from a hillside, can never pass the hole without a hopeful investigation. and the atheist minister converted to orthodoxy by a successful prison revolt, one finishes the book convinced that the experiment ought to be tried again and the guards doubled. dolf wyllarde is also out with a new novel called “as ye have sown” (john lane), which is the story of a young lady of wealth and position in london society, who, not being a wise child, does not know her own father. the book contains a great number of characters, and as the author seldom draws a character without making it something of a living soul, it is enjoyable on account of their life-likeness. the story, however, as regards its evident intention of being hortatory and im- proving, is void of effect. the hands are the hands of esau, but the voice is jacob's voice. other books “the siamese cat” (mcclure, phillips)—a lively tale of the east by henry m. rideout. an entertaining and amusing bit of light literature. guy thorne and dolf wyllarde, whoever and whatever these names may connote off the literary stage, are, in their public and articulate capacities, essentially two of a kind. st. louis used to tell the story of a chicago girl and a chinese girl who met, looked at each other's feet, and fainted. this is probably the way guy thorne and dolf wyllarde would regard each other's most salient characteristics. but they are none the less com- parable because, like the deuce of clubs and the deuce of diamonds, one of them is black and the other red. the author of “when it was dark” and “the lost cause," and the author of “captain amyas” and “the rat trap," are each possessed of ability and each lacking in balance. each, if one may judge from the internal evidence of their writings, is sincere and imagines himself (or is one of them herself?) to be inspired and to have a mission. yet each has gained a hearing, not because of his message but on account of the fortuitous sensationalism of its delivery; and each, without conscious charlatanism, is enjoying a charlatan's short-lived success. guy thorne's mission is to bring forgotten or neglected religious truths home to the reading public by a sort of dramatic reductio ad absurdum; stating, that is to say, in terms of realistic fiction, and as an ac- complished fact, some popular or anti-christian assumption and then attempting to prove its dire and cataclysmic consequences. dolf wyllarde's aim is less obvious, but appears to be the shaming of the lusts of the flesh by pillorying them in the market-place. both writers are enjoyed chiefly by those whom they attack. “john glynn” (henry holt)-a story of charity committee work in the london slums. a good cotton-wool fabric of the near-dickens variety. “the mayor's wife” (bobbs-merrill)—a new detective story by anna katharine green. verbum sat sapienti. "the stolen throne” (moffat, yard)—by herbert kaufman and may isabel fisk. zenda's latest grandchild. strong family resemblance, but a fine boy, with a way of his own. “the smiths” (mcclure, phillips)—a com- monplace story of two commonplace londoners, by keble howard. a misdirected attempt to practise the simple literature. “the prado” (john lane)—an interesting critique of the paintings in madrid's famous gallery, by a. f. calvert and c. g. hartley, with over two hundred illustrations. guy thorne's latest work, “made in his image" (jacobs), describes the introduction into england, by a socialistic minister of industrial affairs, of a law condemning to slavery and segregation, in a penal colony established in cornwall, all irreclaimable criminals, degenerates, and incapables. the object of the legislation is to solve the problem of the unemployed, and the whole situation is developed with the author's convincing plausibility. but when the iniquity of the proceeding is supposedly demonstrated, “the castle of doubt” (little, brown)—by john h. whitson. a novel with a well-concealed mystery. good enough reading at a pinch, but do not read the end first. “the truth about the case” (lippincott)- some curious incidents from the experiences of m. goron, ex-chief of the paris detective force. edited by albert keyzer. file baldi mawla tleming leming under the spreading chestnut tree editor's note.-a good story is a treasure, and, like other precious things, hard to find. our read. ers can assist us, if they will, by sending any anecdotes they find that seem to them good. though the sign is the chestnut tree, no story is barred by its youth. the younger the better. we shall gladly pay for available ones. address all manuscripts to “the chestnut tree." the editor of a little western paper' was in the hand, and, supposing whistler to be a clerk, habit of cheering up his subscribers daily with a angrily confronted him. column of short pertinent comments on their "see here,” he said, "this hat doesn't fit." town, their habits, and themselves. the depart- whistler eyed the stranger critically from head ment on account of its intimate personal flavor to foot, and then drawled out: was the most popular thing in the paper. “well, neither does your coat. what's more, the editor, as he saw it growing in favor, if you'll pardon my saying so, i'll be hanged if gradually allowed himself a wider and wider i care much for the color of your trousers.' latitude in his remarks, until the town passed much of its time conjecturing “what he'd das't to say next.” on a hot day, when a simoom whistled gaily up the streets of the town, depositing everywhere one dark, gloomy day a well-known lit- its burden of sand, the editor brought forth this erary light (right name, sydney porter; gem of thought: write name, o. henry) brightened up our "all the windows along main street need office with this little ray of sunshine: washing badly." the next morning he was waited on by a an effeminate young man daintily placed two platoon of indignant citizens who confronted cents on a drug-store counter and asked the clerk him with the paragraph in question fresh from for a stamp. the clerk tore one off and slid it the hands of the compositor and informed him over to him. the young man drew an envelope fiercely that he had gone too far. after a hasty from his pocket. and horrified glance he admitted that he had. “would you mind licking it for me and placing it now read: it on here?" he lisped. “all the widows along main street need wash- “sure," said the clerk, as he started to stamp ing badly." the letter. “oh, stay!" cautioned the young man in great alarm. “not that way, i beg of you. kindly place the stamp with the top toward the outer the late james mcneil whistler was stand- edge of the envelope." . ing bareheaded in a hat shop, the clerk having "sure," said the obliging clerk. “but what in taken his hat to another part of the shop for com- thunder's that for?" parison. a man rushed in with his hat in his “why, you see," confided the youth blushingly, under the spreading chestnut tree “i'm a student in the cosmopolitan corre- spondence school and that's our college yell.” here is a faithful reproduction of the back of the check with its seven indorsements: this pleased us so that we printed it in “under the spreading chestnut tree," for june, giving mr. porter due credit for it under his write name. to show our appreciation further, we mailed him a check for $ . , hay- ing deducted two cents, the price of the stamp referred to above, from our regular rate for such material. the rest of the story is best told in the following letter to mr. ridgway from mr. robert h. davis, who does ground-and- lofty thinking for an esteemed contemporary: i say to order of lichara duffy sysu sorter to the order of robert davis the handlashy pay to the neler dammski imenii } ти би одоо of troy kinney, . bannister merin, may , . mr. e. j. ridgway, everybody's magazine, manhattan. my dear ridgway: the enclosed check for $ . , drawn to the order of sydney porter and issued from your counting-room in payment of one joke osten- sibly emanating from the said porter, is herewith returned to you uncollected. you will observe that this check contains seven indorsements, all of which is bound to fill you with wonderment-stupefaction, perhaps that the check is not yet cashed. the situation is this: porter permitted the joke to escape in everybody's office. it was printed in “un- der the spreading chestnut tree," and payment was promptly made. porter, having received the joke originally from richard duffy, sent the check on to duffy duffy, affected by the unprecedented por- terism, indorsed it over to the writer, through whom it came to duffy. the writer, greatly affected by the tidal wave of punctiliousness that seemed to have submerged porter and duffy, reluctantly passed it along to bannister merwin. and then the torrent of conscientiousness backed up, seeking its true source. from merwin it went to troy kinney, from troy kinney to alice duer miller, from alice duer miller to hamilton king. king affixed his signature and burst into tears. at this juncture all efforts to find the missing link failed. the problem has become an issue. perhaps gov- ernments may be drawn into it. who can tell? somewhere the all-unconscious author of this classic may be in absolute want. it is not improb- able that the $ . will save him from going to work. the sires of some of our very best jokes are in need of money most of the time. the waif must be brought back to its parent. it is your duty to set the wheels of your vast machine in motion to stir the pulse of the people and straighten this thing out. no man has ever yet got on the trail of a joke and brought up anywhere in particular. perhaps a corporation would succeed. i speak for the six gentlemen and the one lady of record, who will be obliged if you will exhaust all honorable means to put the blame where it belongs, and to balm some willing hand with $ . , which each and every one of us has possessed with mo- mentary joy and reluctantly released. very truly yours, r. h. davis. pay to the raw of alice duen milieu tray kinney pay to the order of mamilton king alice deur miller taunetowking. let diogenes anchor his tub in literary circles and behold-not one honest man, but six honest men and one honest woman! we take this occasion publicly to place on record everybody's magazine “you do, indeed!” promptly assented the britisher, as if pleased by the admission. but his exultation was of brief duration, for the missouri man immediately concluded with: “but there ain't nobody can do it!" our firm belief that even had the check called for the full $ , the result would have been the same. but the great question still remains to be answered. who is the man who told the joke to the man who told it to the man who told it to mr. king? and who told it to that man? wanted: information leading to the discovery of that man or his heirs. in the mean time we are holding $ . in trust. a jolly old steamboat captain with more girth than height was asked if he had ever had any very narrow escapes. yes.” he replied, his eyes twinkling; "once i fell off my boat at the mouth of bear creek, and, although i'm an expert swimmer, i guess i'd be there now if it hadn't been for my crew. you see the water was just deep enough so's to be over my head when i tried to wade out, and just shallow enough”—he gave his body an explana- tory pat—"so that whenever i tried to swim out i dragged bottom." a prominent railroad man hurried down the lobby of a binghamton hotel and up to the desk. he had just ten minutes in which to pay his bill, and reach the station. suddenly it occurred to him that he had forgotten something. “here, boy," he called to a negro bellboy, “run up to and see if i left a box on the bureau. and be quick about it, will you?" the boy rushed up the stairs. the ten min- utes dwindled to seven and the railroad man paced the office. at length the boy appeared. “yas, suh,” he panted breathlessly. “yas. suh, yo' left it, suh.” “my boy,” admonished the minister, “don't you know that it is wicked to fish on sunday?”. “fish on sunday?” repeated the boy in in- jured tones. “why, mister, i'm only teachin' this 'ere poor little worm how to swim.” “my rubber," said nat goodwin, describing a turkish bath that he once had in mexico, “was a very strong man. he laid me on a slab and kneaded me and punched me and banged me in a most emphatic way. when it was over and i had gotten up, he came up behind me before my sheet was adjusted, and gave me three resounding slaps on the bare back with the palm of his enormous hand. “what in blazes are you doing?' i gasped, staggering. “no offense, sir,' said the man. 'it was only to let the office know that i was ready for the next bather. you see, sir, the bell's out of order in this room."" dorothy was visiting her grandparents in the country for the first time. seeing a quantity of feathers scattered about the henyard she shook her head in disapproval. “grandpa," she told him gravely, "you really ought to do something to keep your chickens from wearing out so.” “tommy,” said his mother reprovingly, “what did i say i'd do to you if i ever caught you steal- ing jam again?" tommy thoughtfully scratched his head with his sticky fingers. “why, that's funny, ma, that you should for- get it, too. hanged if i can remember.” speaking of the policy of the government of the united states with respect to its troublesome neighbors in central and south america, “uncle joe” cannon recently told of a missouri congress- man who is decidedly opposed to any interference in this regard by our country. it seems that this spring the missourian met at washington an englishman with whom he conversed touching affairs in the localities mentioned. the west - erner asserted his usual views with considerable forcefulness, winding up with this observation: “the whole trouble is that we americans need a -- good licking!” two country women, mother and daughter, were at the circus for the first time. they were greatly taken with the menagerie. at last they came to the hippopotamus, and stood for several minutes transfixed in silent wonder. then the mother turned to her daughter and said slowly and solemnly, “my! ain't-he-plain?” emtyhoditagazine published by the ridgway company erman j. ridgway, president john o'hara cosgrave wm. l. jennings, sec'y and treas. ray brown, art director editor robert frothingham, ado. mgr. east th street, new york city with “everybody's" publishers are you at all interested in the subject man. do you think he would go on spend- a of advertising? interested to know ing his good money if he didn't know it paid? how some firms make barrels of money every of course not. there, now; that's a better year by spending a barrel of it in advertising? tone. now, if you'll ask the question real we are often asked—“what do you get for polite-like, we'll turn you over to robert your advertising?” the answer is—"$ frothingham, our advertising manager, who a page.” almost invariably the questioner thinks he knows the answer. he ought to. says—“that's a lot of money for one page for if frothingham, with his staff, can argue a year.” “yes, but it isn't for a year. it's $ , into everybody's magazine in one $ for one page one month.” the ques- month, he ought to be able to give you a line tioner is either so flabbergasted that he can't on how he does it, and not charge you for it say anything, or he asks more questions. either; although it's proper to warn you that “how many pages do you run?” “oh, some he'll have you all advertising, if he gets his months we get as many as pages!" then finger in your buttonhole. his mental arithmetic gets to work. “that's let's hear what he has to say. $ , a month!” “no, that's $ , .” “what, you mean that you are carrying the other day a plot of ground on fifth $ , in one number of your magazine?” avenue, new york, changed hands at a we blush. his tone indicates doubt of our record price. the record price was $ per word and of the advertisers' sanity. when he square foot. now you undoubtedly know of finally decides that we are not playing “cross- places where you can buy for $ a lot large questions and silly answers,” but answering enough to build a house upon. therefore, it his questions truthfully, his thought naturally may seem to you an enormous price to pay for turns to the poor, deluded advertisers who a plot of ground so small that you could cover pay us all that money, and the inevitable it with your pocket handkerchief. the reason question follows—the question that is prob- that this particular piece of ground is worth ably on your mind this minute: how, in so much is not its intrinsic value as earth, heaven's name, or the other place (according but the fact that it happens to be on fifth to the creed of the church to which you be- avenue—the most distinguished street of long, or don't)-how can the advertisers afford the greatest metropolis in the world. the to pay such prices? we object to having the man who bought this lot at such a high price question poked at us in that tone of voice, intends to erect a building upon it that will and we ought not to have to answer it, any- be occupied by the stores and offices of people how. the big advertiser is a clever business who wish to do business with the throng that the names at the head of this page are placed there not solely to gratify vanity, but to comply with the new law of the new york legislature, that requires publication, on the editorial page of every newspaper and periodical, of the names of the chief officers of the publishing corporation. we have gone farther here than the letter of the law prescribes, and have set forth the names of the men who are the actual publishers of "everybody's magazine." everybody's magazine passes up and down fifth avenue. these of the day, by our obvious fairness and earnest- tenants will know that they can get more ness and high standards. indeed, is it not customers and get a higher price for their reasonable that our interest in the great, goods on fifth avenue than anywhere else vital, timely subjects that the world is talking in the world, because the people who go to about should attract a class of readers that are fifth avenue to buy are discriminating in alert, progressive, and keen, and consequently taste and supplied with money. winners at what they are doing? however now the variation in the price of building- obtained—and i know of no publication that lots is paralleled by the variation in prices of is more carefully "made" from the editor's advertising. if you inquire into the price of point of view than everybody's—that is the advertising space you will find that values type of people who read the magazine. this are determined on about the same principle. the advertiser has discovered for himself. a page of advertising space is worth more furthermore, the successful advertiser is in one publication than in another only in mighty particular about the company he keeps. proportion to the number of people who are he appreciates our policy of excluding from bound to see that page, in proportion to the the advertising pages patent medicines, character of those people, and in proportion whisky, cigarettes, and catchpenny invest- to their attitude toward the magazine of ments. we really go farther than this. we which that page is a part. let us see how do not permit any advertiser who is willing to this applies to everybody's $ rate. pay $ to use our pages unless his goods are the successful advertiser does not buy the right kind and his promises are reasonable. space at random. he knows what he wants, when an advertiser gets permission to use and before he puts out a large sum for a page one of our pages at $ , it means that we in a periodical, he has calculated just what think that his goods are right, his prices hon- return he should have for his investment. est, and that his promises will be redeemed. nowadays all the great advertisers in the a pretty large order, you will say. well, we magazine field have some fixed method of realize our responsibility to our odd three tracing results, both direct and indirect. to millions of readers, and as best we may, we meet their expectations, a large circulation is live up to it. that is so far as it is in our not enough; it must be a large circulation power, we exclude the trickster and the false among people who can afford to spend money pretender. on things that they see advertised. the successful advertiser knows this—the everybody's circulation averages about appearance of his advertisement in one of our , a month, and that means about five pages is practically a guarantee to the readers readers for every copy. its price of fifteen of the magazine that we have reason to be- cents per copy and $ . per year, which has lieve that the statements he sets forth are true. been maintained for two years, indicates that here you have the relationship in a nut- it is purchased by a class of people who don't shell, a relationship that we have been at mind an extra five cents for their magazine, great pains and cost to bring about: our and who may therefore be supposed to have readers are "selected"; our advertisers are sufficient money to spend on the comfortable "selected"; and the result is that whatever of equipment of their homes. here then is speculation there is in an advertising cam- quantity combined with quality to a degree paign is reduced to a minimum in our pages. unequaled by any of the contemporaries of it has therefore come about that the adver- everybody's. and the advertiser has tiser in everybody's is enabled to purchase learned by actual experience that in the his space with something of a certainty that majority of instances he secures a greater vol- he will get back his costs, together with a ume of patronage from everybody's read- large profit of publicity on the investment. ers at a lower proportionate expense than from and finally, when you realize that $ the readers of any other monthly magazine per page means only eighty-four cents for in the field. every thousand pages circulated, and com- but why should everybody's readers pare this with the cost of printing and mail- prove more responsive than those of other ing , leaflets to a selected list—if the magazines ? advertiser knew where to find such a list- they are selected readers—selected by the you'll appreciate that in proportion to the kind of matter we put into the magazine. vast publicity gained, the cost is almost a neg- selected by our treatment of the big questions ligible quantity. ove racy laseptember september “you'll have to excuse me now, miss barnard, i always hold this thing for miss emmy when she cuts flowers." _" the saving sense," page . everybody's magazine vol. xvii. september, . no. . the crusade against war second conference of the peace at the hague by vance thompson n the corner of the railway carriage a tall empire, to be sure; but only a few govern- mulatto, with a diamond in his necktie, ments took part. the pacification of hu- slumbered peacefully. next to him sat a manity!” he said, lighting a fresh cigarette. little japanese in a frock coat; gradually he, “i am proud that this noble idea is russian. too, began to nod; then his head fell over on we owe it to the celebrated prince gor- the mulatto's shoulder, and together they tschakoff. he was the first statesman who slept. brought about a peace conference. it was at the other passengers smiled, but not un brussels in . ah, in that day they did kindly; for even so the delegates of peace not dare to ask for very much! disarma- should journey to the hague. ment was undreamed of. they aimed at "it is in the tone of the time," an english- little more than stripping war of its worst man said. savagery-explosive bullets and the poison- the train ran on through the flat meadows ing of wells. but that day began the move- of holland and we talked of the congress of ment for peace--and the growth of the idea peace. there was a pale young russian who has gone on and on smoked cigarettes and spoke with authority, the extremely young diplomat waved his for he was the third or perhaps the fourth cigarette and showed us how three mighty secretary of some embassy. he said: “the forces were making for universal peace. he meeting of forty-five sovereign states—it called them science, democracy, and the new would be hard to find in history a diplomatic spirit of international brotherhood, and he assembly of such importance. there was the said: “the universal conscience of mankind congress of vienna, which remade the map of has risen against the barbarism of war.” europe after the downfall of the napoleonic no one said him nay; it seemed very true copyright, , by the ridgway company. all rights reserved. everybody's magazine ecuador-or bolivia—who had been his pillow; and the train stopped at the hague. and very beautiful. in one corner of the carriage sat an old german, smoking a bad cigar in a long amber holder decorated with garnets. he told us, in bad french, a legend of walhalla. it was something like this: the gods sat in council and the debate was grave and long, for on earth men were slaughtering one another and would not keep the peace. at last one of the wise old gods cried out: "eisen, throw your sword into the p erhaps you know the little royal city of holland. its boulevards, its avenues of ancient trees, its venerable lawns lend it a far-off likeness to versailles — but a very dutch versailles, with angular roofs and shining house fronts. a city of flowers and of lazy canals. small yellow trams wind photograph by underwood & underwood, new york. the peace conference in session. world that men may learn where peace is to be found!” and old eisen hurled earth- ward his mighty sword. the old man had put in a nutshell the german theory of peace; and no one answered him. we looked out into the quiet fields and thought of the last time we had journeyed to the hague for the sake of peace—with hopes as high. that was in . a few weeks after the peace- makers had separated-october of the same year—the anglo-boer war began; a few years later came the signal for the battles in the far east. after all, the cynics and the ironists have much on their side. then the little japanese woke up in con- fusion and apologized to the man from through the shady streets and out through the forest and on to scheveningen with its wooden pavilions and the sea. a quiet little city. kindly faces look from the windows. under the trees swarms of children play at some queer game of tag-sturdy youngsters with fat legs and butter-colored hair. now and then a gentleman of the court passes; he has a blue coat and a sword with a mother- of-pearl handle. or the blonde queen rides about in a landau drawn by black horses, and her subjects take off their hats and smile in a friendly way. for life at the hague is like a page from a story-book. then that morning in june the quiet of the little city was shattered by the coming of the peacemakers. they filled the serene hotels haarlem gate, the hague, and the pavilions by the sea. their motor- cars and victorias wheeled through the shady streets. delegates, secretaries, attachés, up- per and under servants, journalists, dark- going members of the secret police of all nations—it was the cosmopolis. and the afternoon of june th this alien throng went toward the hall of the knights, which stands in the binnenhof. do you know this old court of somber brick and gray stone? for six centuries the history of holland has been written there. this day-dull and cold under major yoshifuru akujama. the japanese military delegate. hon. join w. foster. one of china's delegates at the conference. the hague “a city of flowers and of lazy canals." a northern sky—it had a little air of gala. sat on their great horses. there were not dutch flags floated in the wind and a great many spectators—a few citizens smoking their red banner swayed to and fro. without, the pipes, and women, and groups of barelegged cavalrymen-little and blond and gentle— children. (perhaps after all it was not for you and me, but for these barelegged youngsters that the nations of the world gathered in the second conference of the peace- for them, or, it may be, for their far-off children.) a dozen police sergeants held the gates of the binnenhof. they scanned your card of admission and let you pass; and you came to the rid- derzaal, tall and red and grim, an ancient castle with pointed towers. on the broad stone steps stood the ushers in dress coats and gilt chains, and the attend- ants in brass-buttoned liv- eries. they stood to right and left as the delegates- old men in frock coats and silk hats—went slowly up the steps into the hall. it was not impressive. the arrival of joseph h. choate and some of his colleagues. low old palaces had looked the crusade against war out upon more splendid scenes — when the golden coaches of the stadthouder and the duke of alba rolled under the archway with a cortège of princes and knights, in the old days of banners and halberds. these great ambassadors of peace had discarded their uniforms braided with gold, their crosses and ribbons and orders; they were hum- ble and democratic in their black coats. they might have been so many old in- surance agents—so many old commercial travelers- going up to an annual meet- ing. no, this was not im- pressive. and within the hall of the knights—you entered to the left of the tower and found yourself in a space arrival of count nelidoff, president of the conference. railed off from the con- ference hall—there was the same impression only a little light came through the ten of cold simplicity. for the ridderzaal with windows, for the panes were darkened with its naked walls and lofty roof, crossed with the escutcheons of the cities of holland. at rafters of massive wood, was dim and cold. the far end rose an enormous chimney of baron marchell von bieberstein and other german delegates. where the peace conference convened. white and green, its hood projecting far into covered desks and green chairs at which the the hall. and this was all that broke the delegates took their places. austere monotony of oak and plaster. to i leaned on the railing and watched them the left of the chimney was a little door, so enter, by one and two. there came the little inconspicuous that you could hardly make it japanese, absurd and melancholy in his out. it was closed but not lccked; the only european clothes, and his friend from ec- fastening was a band of tape drawn across it uador-or bolivia-wearing a white waist- and sealed at either end with red wax-so coat and many diamonds. this old, old that it would open to man, white - bearded, the touch of a hand. - wearing a red fez, is behind that door wait- turkhan pasha; and ed the men of the secret with him is a little smil- police-french and ing turk whom i do spanish, russian and not know, but in that german — for fear of dark face is infinite pos- the anarchist was upon sibility of warfare and all those old, wise men trouble—perhaps it is who had gathered to mohammed said bey, give peace to humanity. whose reputation is and that was curious. made. mandarins in a tall chair with armor- blue silk, in amaran- ial bearings stood in thine silk, a half dozen front of the old chim- of them, lend the only ney; from it radiated note of color to the the long lines of baize- the japanese and the chinese delegates. gloomy assembly. the crusade against war their seats are far to the rear, next to the railing. and always the old men file in -austrians with drooping white whiskers, germans with full-blooded faces and up- twisted mustaches, timid, down-looking si- amese in ill-fitting frock coats; they go softly to their seats. here pass the slim, dark- hued men from south america; that span- ish-looking man of forty is drago, who has a doctrine of his own. he is one of the celebrities of the moment. then the ameri- can delegation goes down to its seats near the dais-mr. choate has many friends in the conference and he smiles to right and left what is curious is the way that his good ar- yan head-the face made fine by the habit of thought-stands out in this assembly of all the races, white and yellow and brown. the delegates are seated in alphabetical order, and this brings “america” well down to the front, second only to germany (“allemagne”). there are accredited delegates, but secre- taries and technical delegates bring the num- ber up to . the united states, for example, has sent ten; for with mr. choate are general horace porter, general george b. davis, admiral sperry, mr. uriah rose, mr. david jayne hill, mr. buchanan, and the secretaries and attachés. it is not yet three o'clock and the som ber hall is filled from end to end; what you see are the gray heads, or bald, and row after row of black-coated shoulders; here and there the red of a fez or the coiled cue of a mandarin; only one military uniform-it is worn by a dutch officer, lieutenant surie. it is a dim and agitated world, humming with hopes and intentions. suddenly there is a silence. the dutch secretary of foreign affairs takes his place in front of the monu- mental chimney. his excellency the jonk- heer van tets van goudriaan is a robust old man, buttoned up in a frock coat, white- bearded, imposing. he waves a quadrangular sheet of paper and reads aloud holland's welcome. it is in french, the language of the conference. the phrases ring out clear and metallic: first it is queen wilhelmina’s welcome and then a reference to the work accomplished by the first conference and the progress that the cause of peace has made since then; and—“at this hour i cannot omit to offer the tribute of our gratitude to the eminent statesman who presides over the destinies of the united states of america, the president roosevelt.” whereupon an odd thing happened in this decorous assembly. a ripple of applause started in the french seats; it spread to the english section and the russian; in a moment the whole hall was humming with well-bred acclamation. a compliment to the czar of all the russias, a reference to the historical hall of the knights, and the jonkheer was done. in his place rose the president of the conference, monsieur nelidoff, the russian ambassador. he, too, was old and white, with flowing whiskers and drooping mustache. rapidly he read a long, long address. sometimes he faced his audience; then he turned sidewise to get the light from the dim windows; but always he read on-and it was like the drone of an old moujik sitting under the shade of a tree, telling his village of far-off unhappy things. a severe old man, with his shining scalp and the tufts of gray hair above his ears and the long beard; a tone of ironic pessimism ran through his speech. it is the habit to praise america. monsieur nelidoff praised mr. carnegie for his “gift of fortune to erect at the hague a sumptuous palace” for peace. but this dream of universal peace? the lean and haughty old diplomat shook his head. it is a pretty ideal. “excelsior" is the motto of progress. and so we may as well pursue the dream of world-wide peace and fraternity- “the luminous star of universal peace and justice which we shall never attain — but which will always guide us for the good of humanity.” that was all. it was the last word. and it was perhaps the ironic summing up of all this mighty conference of sage and aged men. peace? it is luminous as a star-luminous as red antares yonder, clinging to the neck of the scorpion-but quite as far away; beautiful and unattainable. and we went out into the binnenhof, the melancholy words ringing in our ears-nous n'arriverons jamais! in front of the steps two lines of dutch policemen in black coats and silvered helmets were drawn up. they looked like mutes, ready to follow the coffin wherein old nelidoff had laid away the dead ideal of universal peace. then the carriages rolled up for the diplomats; and the lackeys shouted; and a few troopers rode wildly round the edges of the disorder. on the steps of the ridderzaal, between the two towers, the ambassadors waited. they were many, but they did not impress them- selves. great britain's delegate, sir edward fry, was lifted into his carriage-a very ancient man, eighty years of age, it may be ninety. monsieur bourgeois, obese and everybody's magazine brilliant and french; the italian count it was he who prevented hostilities between tornielli with his high-domed head; the england and russia at the time of the hull quaint little japanese baron tsudzuki, with a incident-when russian cruisers fired wildly mustache that seemed pasted on; and many into a fleet of fishing-smacks. the ambassa- a vague figure of diplomacy besides. then a dors of great britain, austria, and brazil huge man bulked out among them; a giant of were chosen as honorary presidents; as vice- a man; his enormous shoulders were squared presidents the commission had representatives in an ample overcoat, which was thrown back of germany, italy, and mexico. upon this so that you could see the silk-faced frock question of the settlement of disputes by coat, swollen by the big chest. for he was arbitration all the nations were agreed. the big of chest, of shoulder, of abdomen. a low, creation of a practical and authoritative court turned-down collar left room for the massive rested with the jurists—renault of france neck. before he put on his hat you saw the and zorn of bonn-and the patient diplomats. gray hair, thick and parted in the middle and it was immediately after this commission was combed out over the temples. and you instituted that the united states first inter- studied the cold, heavy, intelligent face and the vened. general horace porter informed the steady, cynical eyes. so colossal and calm conference that america desired to submit the he was that he seemed to be less a man than question of the non-employment of force for an edifice; and he was the ambassador and the collection of debts. with unanimous the symbol of the german empire. a tiny courtesy the matter was referred to the first cigarette between his lips, a silver-headed commission. it was the entering wedge of cane in his hand, he went down the steps of the drago doctrine—the first notable satis- the hall of peace. he seemed to see neither faction given to the united states and south the photographers who sighted their lenses america. on him, nor the policemen in black and silver t he second commission had to do with who made a way for him- questions affecting war by land; the belgian way for the baron marchell von bieber- delegate presided and general horace porter stein- was made one of the honorary presidents. a huge man; bearing about him mysteri- of more importance was the third commission, ously the burden of peace-or war. upon which mr. choate found an honorary place, dealing with maritime warfare and all the result of the first peace conference was the complex problems of bombardments of rather formless and hazy. it drew up an open ports, contraband, capture of private agreement for the pacific regulation of inter- property, and the status of neutrals. as i national conflicts. now this agreement was have said, i wish only to outline-as on a full of good intentions, but unfortunately map—the scope of the conference; but it is there was no way of enforcing it. in the significant that the proposal for the creation second place, thanks to monsieur léon of an international prize-court-to decide bourgeois, it declared for the desirability of upon the fate of captured vessels—was made limiting military expenditures—a resolution by the baron von bieberstein, of germany, equally platonic. and supported by sir edward fry and mr. what may be hoped for from this second choate. conference? it was mr. roosevelt who took the fourth commission was occupied with the initiative of calling it together. england the changes to be made in the geneva con- approved, and russia drew up the program vention for the care of the wounded in war. that has been submitted to the delegates for this was, then, the groundwork of the discussion. the second plenary meeting was conference. held on the th of may, and upon that day it was noteworthy that the four great the diplomatic forces were divided into four powers, germany, the united states, great commissions. if you glance at the work al- britain, and japan, were given only honor- lotted to each of these divisions you have be- ary representation on the commissions. this fore you—as on a chart—the scope and pur- was not due to their imperfect command of pose of the conference. and that is worth french, as unkind critics averred. general while; indeed clarity is always worth while. porter, who speaks the language extremely the first commission was that of arbitration well, was offered a presidency; he refused it and the presidency went to monsieur bour- as he wished to stand without, where he could geois. that was an honor fitly bestowed, for fight his country's fight unhampered. as the crusade against war though there could be fighting in a conference poor latin folk have come to the conclu- of peace, you say? ah, this wedding-ring sion that this conference was called for the of nations has to be forged out of multiple purpose of regulating in advance the condi- antagonistic metals. and each nation has its tions of a naval war in the pacific.” own peculiar needs, economics, or dynastics; i shall not name the delegate who said that; for instance, when general porter urged i write it merely that you may understand the acceptance of the drago doctrine—that the ironic attitude of many of these peace- corollary of the doctrine of monroe-he found makers—who were without hope and without aligned against him the money-lending nations zeal. they saw in the conference only a of the old world. and the broaching of that battle of the diplomats, each of them fight- splendid ideal of disarmament? the decla- ing subtly and patiently for his own. more ration of the chancellor von bülow in the than any others the technical delegates were reichstag of germany left no doubt as to fond of saying these things; perhaps they the intentions of germany; and the french knew. minister of foreign affairs pronounced it had you wished to know the full sweep and utopia come again. with cautious curiosity, trend of the pacific movement, you had gone, as hares approach a trap, the old experienced as i did, among the unofficial delegates. diplomats went round that question. no one, they were many. mr. w. t. stead presided i think, expressed this universal state of mind over a club in the princessengracht. the better than monsieur bourgeois. it was baroness von suttner, who wrote that epoch- when he came back from that first inter making book, "lay down your arms!” had national diet of a score of nations. her pacific circle. the peace associations “i have no illusions," he said; “you see i were represented by men and women from belong to a generation which accepted dar- every land. among them you met neither win and sees in the struggle of nations, as of irony nor disillusion. as you listened to men, the fatalism of a law of equilibrium.” them you realized that the great ideal has they are still with darwin, these delegates made its way into the remotest parts of the of peace; it seems to them a far-off ideal that earth, that it has become part of the in- nations should cease to brawl with knives—as tellectual life of mankind. the most potent civilized men have ceased—and should carry delegates were those unaccredited members their quarrels to juries and judges. and they of the peace leagues and associations, who are not idealists. but everything comes to represented the hopes of far-off java, of far- pass-even utopia. only, it is difficult for off kansas, of norway, of england. they a generation of statesmen, bred in the creed were not worrying about darwinian laws of that the fittest survives by reason of his equilibrium. it may be that they are not prac- fighting power to plot the curves of a saner tical. but they are preaching a crusade--in and milder law. all languages-against war. they are strip- i spoke with old diplomats in the serene ping it of its glory; they are demonstrating hotels and the rococo palace by the sea. its absurdity in an age when men know one and some were friends of british preponder- another—and may freely discuss their differ- ance and some of german rule. and each ences; and they are familiarizing the peoples had a theory whereby peace might be made and above all the governments with the theory to the advantage of his own land; nor did he of peace. there was something very charm- view his neighbor without suspicion. ing about these little gatherings--with their “it is upon the rights of neutrals, on enthusiasms and lawless idealism. you see, private property in naval warfare that the they discussed only how peace might be made conference can most usefully expend its permanent and universal; not upon them was activity-and its sagacity," said the baron laid the diplomatic duty of seeing how peace von bieberstein. and i heard the same might be made-profitable. thing from baron tsudzuki, of japan. “the inviolability of private property in some day there will be a pathology of case of naval warfare,” said my latin friend, nations; then we shall understand many as we came away from the hotel where the things that are now dark. centuries ago the french and german flags were flying side by chinese discovered the absurdity of prowess side, “ seems to be about the only question and the futility of war. they disdained to that really interests the conference-notably fight. they preferred to yield to the un- you americans and japanese. in fact we civilized invader, knowing that the influence everybody's magazine of a higher race would in the end perfect him there will be no war. that is the only solu- and make him like themselves. and that is tion. war is made by the classes. mr. understandable. but i spent a sunday after- carnegie has given a million in order to build noon at the hague with two thousand pacifi- here a palace of peace; but if any one should cators whose logic was hard to follow. so des- offer his steel trust five millions, or a hundred, perately they loved peace that they were ready for casting cannons, do you think he would to dynamite humanity into a state of eternal refuse? no-well, that's the way the capital- tranquillity; for they were the anarchists. ists understand peace.” again they began they met on the vaillant-plein, a green to sing a hymn to the deity of a new creed; meadow out beyond the southern suburb of and as they sang i talked to domela nieu- the town. there was a stand for the speak- wenhuis; or rather i listened: ers; high above it rose a pike with a phrygian “the conference over yonder—'tis a huge cap-that old symbol of revolution; and a comedy," he said, “a huge hypocrisy. that score of scarlet banners flapped in the air, is why we protest. there will never be displaying inscriptions: “militarism is a peace, until the present society is destroyed- crime,” “geen vaderland /” a huge cartoon utterly destroyed.” showed the sovereigns of europe, offering he had the strange pale eyes of upton palms to one another, while behind their backs sinclair and when he spoke of destruction they held drawn swords; beneath it was they filmed over in a way at once unex- written: “people beware! they present the pected and menacing. a dingy, stout man palm of peace in order to hide more success- took me by the arm; there were tears on his fully the swords they hold ready.” cheeks. it is a peculiarity of the anarchists that they “we must destroy war," he said; he was a are extremely mild-mannered. this crowd captain who had had thirty years' service in was made up of young mothers with babies, of the dutch colonies; he had killed a great many clean working men, of gentle old men. while negroes and he wept again as he thought of the band played the young folk danced two it; and “you are too cruel to them in the by two on the soft turf. the children romped. united states—you burn them at the stake," the gentle old men drank lemonade. were he said. it not for the scarlet banners and the hawkers a little blonde girl came up to him and selling pamphlets advising “direct action” plucked his sleeve. he wiped the tears out of and “the sowing of picric-acid seeds” it his eyes, and smiled at her. might have been a picnic of bourgeois citizens. “i want some milk,” she said. or a camp-meeting of the old sort. twenty we went over to a long wooden bar, where, voices took up a hymn-a grave liturgic song under an awning, the milk was sold. except to the new strange deity of anarchy. it was the lemonade there was nothing else to be not a parody; it was intense-a passionate had, for these enemies of society are enemies, hymn as of a new religion. the women sang too, of alcohol. the milk was sold at two it; and the children lifted their shrill voices, cents a glass. i bought a handful of tickets while they paused in their games and stood and gave them to the little blonde girl. with with folded hands and serious eyes. then great industry she collected her friends- orator succeeded orator on the speaker's forty youngsters, fifty of them. solemnly stand-yonder where the phrygian cap and they held up their glasses, waiting for the the pike were. one of them told us that a hun- toast. the stout captain, who had taken to dred international organizations were repre- anarchy — as heart-broken girls enter a sented there — belgian, german, french, convent—by way of penance for his thirty scandinavian. another cried: “if you want years of negrophobia, proposed the toast. peace, make war on capitalism. can you he took off his hat, he raised his glass, and imagine the russian delegation in any con- said: “vive le président roosevelt," and the vention where it would not leave traces of children piped: “ vive le président roose- blood?” then a slender old man took the velt," and drank their milk. platform. it was domela nieuwenhuis, who it was a charming compliment, but i do had just come from a german prison. he not pretend to understand the logic of it, had the air of an old aristocrat, of a nelidoff, with his haughty face and white and silky so then there were three ideals of peace beard. he said: “if the working men go on at the hague. the gentle-mannered “inter- strike one and all when war is threatened, why, nationalists” saw it rising, white-winged and hearts' seasons beneficent, out of a chaos of picric-acid, of the knights (whence a crusade set out to wherein thrones and governments and capital conquer the holy land) the sage old states- should have been dissolved, and only the men sat in a peace conference where was natural man be left. debated the subject: another ideal was that of the unaccredited “how may war be made less unpleasant delegates, for whom peace-a thing beautiful for every one concerned?” and splendid as a flag—was to be won by a three ideals. kindly crusade of spoken and printed words; down which path, think you, will peace and they foresaw, after the reign of force, the come? after all, that is not of supreme reign of feudality, the reign of commerce, the importance. what is evident is that the new reign of intellectuality, which will be nations are thinking peace—that it has be- also that of peace. and yonder in the hall come a part of the world's thought. > hearts' seasons by charles buxton going ihen the earth was flushed and the trees were young v and the bluebirds called from an april sky, beyond where the moon's slim cradle swung life's long, long vistas before us hung half-veiled in tears, though we knew not why; for hearts were yearning—but on the tongue the slow words faltered, and lips were shy. when the earth was green and the trees were strong and the river sang to the warm, white sun, the hours were blithe and the days were long, for life was working, and work was song- no wailing minor of things undone and no black discord of hopes gone wrong; life's sands were many, and slow to run. when the earth is bleak and the trees are pale and the east wind cries through the falling rain, draw close, dear heart, from the rising gale; we'll measure bravely our meager tale of wide, poor stubble and scanty grain. but, dear, we have tried; if the harvest fail the lord of the harvest will count our pain. when the trees are gray and the earth is white and the north wind sings in the chimney stone, then, hand in hand, we will wait the night; with quiet hearts, we will say good night. dear heart, was not all the year our own? there is no darkness love cannot light- we'll face, together, the great unknown! dearmuliet hearts, d. we will "wathe chim sangre de cristo by edfrid bingham illustrations by dan smith then your luck drops you down in outlay. i rose and leaned against the bar to salt lick overnight, and there's no watch my cowboy in his astonishing company. stage till morning, you have just three ways the last time i'd seen thad brinker he to pass the time until you're sleepy: you can was breaking a red-eyed bronco in front of watch old hegenbeck and “doc” breen play ten thousand gaping people at the denver cribbage in the hot and stuffy office of the carnival. about two-thirds of the crowd “hotel,” or listen to cattle-talk at snyder's thought he should have had the belt, and saloon, or buy chips at greaser joe's. there's said so at the top of their voices, but the music at joe's, too, and that takes some of the judges declared that brinker was too rough, wail out of the wind, which is insolent and and gave the championship to a quiet, slip- mad across lost wagon flats. pery fellow from wyoming. so i wandered into joe's, and was idly “come and take a drink, brinker," said i, placing two whites on the double (that's when they'd finished some fandango thing. a folly of mine) when my eyes fell on the he untwisted himself slowly, and rose like musicians against the wall on the other side a man caught in a petty crime. there was a of the room. two were the regulation snaky, sheepish grin on his handsome, if now un- black-haired mexicans in their tawdry plu- kempt, face as he walked over to the bar and mage of black velvet and spangled brass. reached out a hand to me. the third was a straw-colored fellow in the “what's this monkey business, brinker?” garb of a cowboy. a guitar was supported asked i reproachfully. on one of his legs, crossed over the other; he “doin' time!” he answered, with frank, was crouched low in his chair; and his faded almost defiant disgust. sombrero was so far down over his forehead "pretty bad time, too, what i heard of that only the lower part of his blond stubble- it," was my flippant rejoinder. he merely bearded face was visible. but i knew him. grinned again. “what does it mean?” "playin' fur fun, i surmise!” i heard the “same as if i'd hired a greaser to lay about roulette man say, with rough sarcasm. two hundred strokes of a quirt on my bare “let them stay where they are," i replied, back," he replied, as he tossed into his mouth quite uninterested in the stack of whites on a slug of joe's awful whisky. “i'd 'a' done top of my two. the next whirl very properly that, only this is worse." took them, and two more plays finished my he turned and looked with a shudder at his sangre de cristo companions, who were eying us with that most pain, that look of tense incomprehen- curious mexican stare that is half malev- sion breaking now and then into a short, olence and half something indeterminate. nervous laugh of acute chagrin. “i don't “what was it, brinker? a woman?” i know how, nor why, but it's made a good questioned strategically, knowing it wasn't. cowpuncher into a two-bit guitar picker, “no. a sunset.” an'- well, listen!” “what!” • he got into that crouching position again “a red sunset.” as if he wanted to make himself very small i stared at him in rude unbelief, and to my in accordance with his own recently formed complete befuddlement his face was swept by and abiding opinion of himself. a flush that was nothing else but shame. and “i'm comin' up from chama, after the i stood there feeling the most astounding pity round-up on the k.s.t., headin' for alamosa, for the man. where i'm goin' to sell bony part an' take a one of the velvet fellows twanged his train for denver to spend my summer wages mandolin viciously, and brinker started. findin' out new things 'bout faro. i've been “after the music?” i said, with assurance. ridin'in a deep arroyo, not payin' attention to brinker nodded, and returned to his much of anything, an’i come out sudden into penance. not to embarrass him needlessly, the heart of one of them sunsets. there's a i went back to the "hotel" and had an hour's cold gush of air down the valley, an' it's red. enlightenment on the belligerencies of crib- in the south is purple patches, but the dunes bage. two hours later brinker and i found is red, an' the peaks—there's no tellin' you a table in a corner at snyder's. the color of them peaks. the air's shiverin' “ever been in the san luis?” he began. cold an' it's blood warm, too. there's a kind “ever seen one of them red sunsets that's of sweat on my forehead, an' i take my hat off, called “blood of christ'? then you ain't an’ it seems proper to pull up bony part, an' never seen anything red. them pious old sit very still, murmurin', like them spaniards, spaniards, ridin' up from mexico huntin' 'sangre de cristo! sangre de cristo!' more lands for the king of spain-can't you “but i'm wantin' to make the bar two see 'em, that evenin' in september, at sun- spot for eatin' an' sleepin' that night, so i down, crossin' their hands on their breasts, throw off that unnecessary feelin' and put an’ cryin' out, 'sangre de cristo! sangre de bony part to the lope again. you've never cristo!' i'm much bedoubt if any cow- been in the san luis, so you don't know boy'd 'a' thought of that if he'd seen the big there's a green strip along the river, an' then mountains first. on both sides sage-brush flats, an' then, as “there's days an' days when the sangre far as the mountains, the sand dunes, where de cristo range is only white an' cold, an' nothin' grows but cactus an’ mesquite an' days when it's black with storms, an' days sage, an' maybe some thin, tough grass after when it's dismal gray. an' then there'll the spring rains. in summer the dunes is a come an evenin' with the sun goin' down red parchin', blisterin' torment an' in october behind old san juan an' makin' the snows on they're raw, gray desolation; i ain't never had sangre de cristo run like blood. you're all any business there in winter, an’ want none. alone, maybe, in the chaparral, but you know the wind never stops blowin' there, an' it there's brakemen settin' the brakes on builds the dunes into new hills every day, an' squealin' ore-trains on marshall pass who're the sage-brush is always bent an’ lopsided an' lookin', too, and miners comin' out of the tun- torn. but when the sunset's on the dunes nels above creede who stop to look, an' the’ ain't anything so wild an' passionate nor mexican sheep-herders in conejos crossin' so beautiful—that is, if you ain't been brought themselves, an' ranchmen by their lonesome up among lily ponds an' rose gardens in the corrals up an' down the san luis, an' cow- ee-fete east. punchers in the saddle on the open range, all “you mustn't mind my goin' on like this, got it as bad as you, an' havin' queer feelings you wouldn't understand if i didn't. you while they see the blood run an' flow till won't anyhow, but then-well, i'm gazin' night comes an’ puts soft wrappin's over it, across them dunes as dopy as any spaniard, like a wound. an’ sudden something hits me in the eye. “that's what done me," he went on it's a flash, an' gone. you've had the sun in slowly, after a pause, wrinkling his forehead a window miles away flashed into your eyes? and biting his lips impatiently. it was al like that, only unnatural an’ odd. i jerk everybody's magazine up bony part, an' shade my eyes against the “d' i ever tell you about marvin, jake red, an' there's nothin' but the dull red dunes marvin? no? well, we had a triflin' dif- reachin' north an' south, an' the wind kickin' ference of opinion in a poker game at lara- up long curlicues of sand. mie onct, an' while they was holdin' us “that's funny!' says i, ridin' on. my we crossed our hearts an' promised each eyes 's pasted to that spot, an' purty soon i other some nice target practise next time we get it again, like before, very sharp, an' gone. meet. that's two years ago, an' i'm not i give bony part the steel, an' it must 'a' been thinkin' of marvin, an' he comes out of a mile before i see it again. you've seen an baxter's saloon an’ wings me. what d'you antelope shiny in the sun? well, it's yel- think of that now? marvin wings me! lower than an antelope, not red-yellow like fire, you'd think i'm pullin' a tooth 'stead of a but like gold, or maybe the bottom of a brass gun. he puts my right arm out of business, kettle when the cook's been busy on the job. an’ while i'm swingin' the gun to the other it comes an' goes, so i make up my mind it's hand he's pumpin' lead at me, an' keepin' an animal, an' i'm diggin' bony part in the his promise the best he can. it's a good flanks till he wonders what in the dickens's up. thing for me 't marvin shoots like old mis' “well, i lope up to the top of a sand dune, jermin throwin' rocks at her hens. he drops an' there, not more'n half a mile away, on me, an' don't take time to see what kind of a another little hill, stands a horse. c’n you job he's done, but hits the trail. imagine a horse with a hide made of ham- “i'm on somebody's blankets in the back mered gold? it ain't the kind of gold you see room at baxter's when i come to, an' i've mostly in jewelry, but pale gold, california got a promisin' lead mine in my shoulder, gold. there's plenty of buckskins an' plenty an' the's a beautiful irrigatin' ditch along the horses of a dirty yellow, with the color streak- side of my head—there. looks highly orny- in' through into their measly souls. but this'n mental, don't it? but that's nothin' to the is clean an' bright an' yellow; the yellowest hurt inside. i'm sick an' morterfied. i thing 't ever made a man's heart ache. he's turn my face to baxter's dirty plank wall, an' standin' on the dune, like a golden statue of don't say a word, hopin' they'll go away an' a horse, an' me there gapin' and quiverin'. let me die. me! marvin!” there's horses all around him, all colors an b rinker's face was crimson again, so i sizes, nibblin' at whatever there is to nib- ministered to him as best i could with ble in that god-forsaken place, an' feelin' snyder's unsympathetic whisky, and waited proper safe with him up there on guard with averted face for his resuscitation. an' right, too. for i ain't no more'n clapped “next i'm lettin' two christian sheep- eyes on him before there's a flash an' some herders dig me out of a snow-drift on the dust, an' he's gone with the rest of 'em after red desert. that's what i get for foolin' him, out of sight among the dunes. round in a sheep country, anyhow. ever “i stand starin' after 'em, an' just then the been snow-blind? it's blackness with fire in red fades from the dunes, an' when i turn to it, an' you get crazy an' ride around in a circle look at 'blood of christ' there's only a pink an' die unless somebody finds you. i'm near tinge on the snow, an' that turns white, an' frozen stiff when they get me an' carry me to the wind down the valley's bitter cold. so their wagon, an' i lay there till a storm takes bony part an’i make for the bar two spot, the shine out of the snow an' i c'n look at it thinkin' our own thoughts. again. then i finish my job, which is takin' “well, i sell bony part at alamosa for word to a fellow at the sunset mine that his thirty plunks, which is givin' him away, but wife's sick in lander, an' i don't go back to i'm loco on learnin' new things about faro. lander but make for casper an' the railroad, so i'm in denver a week—just eight days, if an' it's me for the black hills, which i've you want to know. then i hain't nothin' been aimin' for more or less all the time. left but gun an' blankets an’ a lot of new “it's easy ropin' a job with the big star k ideas about faro, so i go out to the stock- outfit, an' the's a bunch of sassy debytanties yards, an' get a job up in middle park. but to be broke that spring. i'm showin' off to that's a baled-hay country, an’ i'm no farmer, beat time before a fash'nable aujence of the so, soon's i get a horse, i jump the barb-wire smartest bronco-busters there is between the an' hike north where there's cattle. i'm at red river an' the rio grande. an' i let sheridan, wyoming, when things begin to a nice little mouse of a cayuse 't looks as if happen. it'd been born in a stable dump me like an sangre de cristo amachoor. my left elbow hits a stone, an' the “it's all plain now as i lay there thinkin', bone's split into about forty joyous, singin' an' after a spell of dull wonder at bein' so slivers. bud sparks, my old partner, leans took with a horse i just give up to him an' he over me an' says, more in sorrow'n anger, fills the room with his golden shine till my "what in hell's the matter'th you!' eyes hurt an' the back of my head aches as if “that's what i'm askin', layin' on my he'd torn a big hole there gettin' out. an' bunk an' reflectin' on my busted reputation. the grand circus performance he gives to me, thad brinker, 't ought t' had that belt at keep me entertained while i'm done up like denver, an 't had busted broncos from the that! leapin' through hoops as silver as the eyes a straw.colored fellow in the garb of a cowboy. brazos to bear paw mountains an' back again, an' let a snide yearlin' do this to me! an' then sudden it comes to me what ails me. it's that horse! it's that yellow devil in the san luis. i ain't never forgot him, an’ when i ain't thinkin' of him he's dancin' around somewhere in the back part of my head, like a fire. if it hadn't been for him d’you sup- pose i'd 'a' let marvin plug me in sheridan? an' 'twasn't the snow 't blinded me in the red desert, though that helped. it was him. an' 'twas him i was tryin' to ride when that little rat throwed me on the star k ranch. moon, an' ridin' round suns that ain't as bright as him, an' rompin' through the sky tramplin' the stars, an' comin' up out of black pits like flame-pale flame that's hot an' cold together. so it goes for days an' days, an' then he goes away very swift, like a flash, an' bud sparks is settin' by the bunk holdin' my hand, an' sayin'" you're all right, old man.” everything seems queer an' light an' trembly, an' i find out i've been sick with fever, an' near done for. “have i been talkin'?' i ask bud. “some,' says bud with a grin. “about a horse?' everybody's magazine “if you'd ever seen such a horse,' says bud, 'i reckon you wouldn't been foolin' round with these ornery broncos.' “but i have seen him,' says i, gettin' excited, an' raisin' up on my well elbow. 'an' i'm goin' to- “bud grabs me, an' lays me back, an' says with a scart look, 'no, you don't! you're goin' to lay still an' not talk, or i'll just about beat your fool face in.' “then he leaves me, an' the yellow horse comes prancin' around, very dim an' pale, an' then i sleep. an' sleepin' or wakin' i can't think of anything but that horse, an’i see it ain't any use procrastinatin'. he owns me or i own him, an' the sooner it's settled the better. i'm layin' there plannin' it all out when somethin' happens that almost brings back the fever. “mr. larabee, owner o' the star k, comes in, an' sets on the edge of my bunk, an' says, ‘brinker, don't you think it's time you settled down?' “what kind of settlin' down is the' for a cowpuncher?' i ask him. “i've a mind to make you foreman of this ranch,' he says. “that makes me set up an' stare at him. 'what kind of a joke's this?' i ask, feelin' my face turn red. “i'm waitin' for an answer,' mr. larabee says, very quiet, an' i'm dazed. it means more money'n i ever had before, or ex- pected to have, an'a chance to get some cattle "it seems proper to sit very still, murmurin', 'sangre de cristo! sangre de cristo!'" sangre de cristo of my own, maybe, an' lots of things 't a fellow likes. then i laugh, disgusted. ««you didn't see me get dumped t’other heat an' the sage-brush runs under your eyes like quicksilver, an' the lizards are lyin' dead- like in the sand. "there's a flash an' some dust, an he's gone." day by that measly yearlin'?' i ask him. 'i “it's the toughest kind of work, but i ride can't even ride! an' ride, an' don't see any wild horses. it's “never mind that,' he says. 'i know the last of august before i catch sight of 'em, what you c'n do. i've no objection to your an' then it's only a glitter of gold against the puttin' your savin's into cows, an' gettin' a dull red of the dunes, an' gone. but that's good start for yourself right here.' enough to burn me, an' i spend a good many “well, i'm feelin' extraordinary proud for more days, such as i may, studyin' the a minute. then i lay too hard on my rotten country. elbow, an' a pain jerks me back like a frisky “there's a horse down there in the dunes horse on his haunches. i ask mr. larabee 't i reckon i need,'i announce, casual-like, to if i can think it over till to-morrow, an' he's a carney, the foreman, one night. he looks shade huffy at that, an' goes out sayin' to take at me a minute, an' grins. all the time i want, as it's certainly more im- “so that's what you've been up to, is it?' portant to me'n 'tis to him. an' that's the he says. then he turns to the cowpunch- truth. mr. larabee's a man t hitch up to if ers hangin' round the corrals, an' says, with you've got any sense, which i hain't, an' i'm a lot of unnecessary sarcasm, 'hi, men, a coward besides. i don't want to tell him brinker's goin' to saddle sunny sides!' why i'm not takin' that job, so i write a letter “the's a laugh all around, an' that learns an’ leave it on my bunk, an' that night, when me several things, one of them bein' that all's quiet, i saddle jack pot, an' that's an carney's too familiar to be much of a foreman. hour's job, i'm so weak—an' ride away, “always glad to be entertainin',' i say, hangin' on to the horn with both hands like a very soft. 'has any of you got any money? woman. -beggin' your pardon for askin' personal “that's in may, an' in july i'm five hun- questions on short acquaintance.' dred miles south, ridin' up to the bar two "the's not much doin' for a minute, but spot an' askin' for a job. the foreman re the bunch comes sidlin' up to me an’ carney, members me, an' i go to work, sayin' nothin' an' carney's lookin' me over right critical, about what i'm thinkin', an' whenever i get a scentin' a game. chance i ride into the sand dunes. they're “not havin’ been specially industrious fifty miles north an' south, an' crossways lately,' says i, “an' bein' a kind of prodigal twenty, an' all cut up by arroyos, an' in july son of a gun anyhow, i ain't got as much the scattered mesquite's curled up by the money's i ought to have to talk business to everybody's magazine such a distinguished company of sports, but i'll mention what i've got. the's $ in money, an'a gun, an' two horses 't you c'n put your own price on, an'a saddle, an' “an' that belt you won at denver?' chips in pulver, like the flea-bitten little pup he is. an' that makes another laugh. "no," i answer, slow an' quiet, though things is workin' inside. "that went to a better man, but i've got- “then i stop, not wishin' to brag. be- sides, the notion of chancin' them spurs ain't sweet. “you've got them gold spurs you won at cheyenne, with di'monds in 'em,' says weatherby. he's a new man, only been on the bar two spot a few days, an' he lands a jolt all around. carney looks queer, an' the ain't nary a laugh. . “wasn't that black one a cyclone!' says i, forgettin' the bunch in sudden rememberin' o' that day, an' smilin' at weatherby. “but i didn't know you was there.' "i was an' i wasn't,' says he. "i thought i was a bronco-buster, an' i turned out to be only one of the aujence. that was bronco- bustin' 't made the denver show look like a dance at mother smedley's.' “i was hesitatin' about them spurs,' says i, ‘for reasons, but i reckon it'd be a gen'rous an’ christian act t' give this bunch of sports a safe an easy chance to win a prize without bustin' anything. the spurs's in the pot. “we'll cover it,' says carney. “i'll take all 't's left after you men have bit off yours.' "count me out,' says weatherby. “i'll put my horse an’ saddle anholster with brinker's, if you don't object.' “help yourself!' says carney“but you ain't seen sunny sides.' “i've seen brinker,' says weatherby. “then we begin puttin' up the cash an' the goods, an' puttin' prices on things. “of course there ain't no man c'n rope a wild horse alone,' says i, when it's near done. do i get the usual help here, or do i go down to the k. s. t. for some of my friends?' “carney figures a minute, then he says: 'we'll play fair. you get this whole outfit to round 'em up an' to cut sunny sides out from the bunch. if you rope him you get the same help you'd get right here bustin' a bronco, no more'n no less. an' you're to saddle an' ride him. is that square?' “fair an' square,' says i, shovin' the gold spurs into the heap. “i don't mind tellin' you, son,' says carney, his eyes glistenin', 'that i've hunted that sunny sides some myself, an' the rope ain't made yet't's long enough to catch him.' “mine reaches from the black hills,' says i, an’ we all grin at one another very formal, an' go lookin' after our horses. the ain't much conversation around the bar two spot for some days, an' the never was so much ice-cream politeness on a colorado ranch since lord what's-his-name had a bunch of knights an' squires an' younger sons for his cowpunchers on the coronet. “it's three weeks before i get so much as a flash in my eyes again, an' i give the word to carney immejit. three hours before day- light we start. we're 'leven men an'a dozen extra horses, which little pulver's to keep close up for fresh mounts. carney an' four men ride away out to come up from the south, drivin' the herd on to us. weatherby an' 'slim’ baker i send out toward the valley to come in from the west, an' the other two men's near me. so we're drawin' a net around the herd 't's somewhere down there in the dark among the dunes. “by 'n' by the's the queer little shiver in the air that comes before the dawn, an' then a big black peak of the san juan blooms pink like a wild rose away off in the west. it's a long wait yet in the dark before the sand hills raise out of the blackness, red-gray an' cold an' still. there's dim figures right an' left where my men are waitin', and nothin' else but empty-lookin' sand heaps rollin' away into the shadows. “we move south as slow as the horses c'n walk, searchin' the dunes as the light finds 'em one after another. the sun's a long time climbin' the sangre de cristo range, an' the first thing he does, i reckon, is to say good mornin' to sunny sides. anyhow, the's a flash out of a dull red spot maybe two miles south of us, an' i hear a yell from caley off to my left, an' next minute the sun's in our faces. “we ride another mile very slow, an' then sudden ahead of us is a cloud of dust, an' the herd comes stormin' up out of a hollow to the top of a sand hill, an' stops at sight of us. an' the blood's tearin' through my veins again, for there's my horse, at the head of the bunch, shinin' an' bright as ever he was in my fever- dreams. it's only a minute, an' then they're chargin' away to the west, that gold thing trailin' blacks an’ browns an' bays an' grays behind him, an' the colts havin' an awful hard time keepin' up with the procession. but "ten tough cowpunchers puttin' their muscles an' nerves an' brains an' machinery against him!" weatherby an' baker head 'em, an' they sandy park as tight as a corral. him an' wheel toward the mountains again. me'll fight it out right there.' “we keep closin' in very watchful, but “carney looks most onhappy for a minute, twice they almost break through. the's only an' says, 'goin' to give him a written invite, one thing the matter with sunny sides. he i s'pose!' don't know how grand he is, or he'd 'a' "if the bar two spot ain't eq'al to the charged right over us, an' left us bleedin' in job, i c'n get some real busters down at the the sand. but he don't. he's got the fears k. s. t.,'i answer, an’ we grin at each other of his forefathers in his blood, an' he has to some more. be cornered before he fights. “if you're as eq'al as the bar two spot, “so we're closin' in, an' he's leadin' the the'll be some sport,' says carney, an' he scart herd in smaller'n smaller circles as rides around the line givin' orders, which he we're workin' 'em in toward the mountain. c'n do well enough when he makes up his carney comes ridin' round an' up to me, an' contrary mind. says, 'reckon you want us to run him till he's “well, it's the devil's own time for five tired out, an' then you'll take him.' he was hours, an' the sand's in our eyes, an' our own tryin' to be smilin' nasty. horses's actin' loco, some of 'em, an' baker's “d'you ever see a wild horse 't was any got a busted shoulder rollin' into an arroyo. good after you'd caught him that way?' says but the chase's got into every man's blood, i. 'it kills 'em.' an' the's no more grinnin' sarcasm an' no “you'll find enough fight left in him any thinkin' about them bets. so it's done, an' time, son,' says carney. "what glitterin' sunny sides an' about half the rest of the idee've you got?' band 't we couldn't get shet of is penned up in “i'm illuminatin' you now,' says i, with the hot little park. then we fling ourselves one eye always on sunny sides, as he's down in the neck of the bottle an' rest, an' whirlin' this way an' that, with the crazy sunny sides stands at the other end watchin' band behind him. “see that red rock yan- us, an' his head's high, an' he lifts one fore der standin' out against the granite? well, foot an' paws the air. we stand still a long there's a little gulch there, an 't ends in a time lookin' at him. "the rope settles around his neck an' sings tight, an' then the real fight begins." “gee! that's a horse!' pipes little pulver, an' the ain't nothin' more said till i get up an' begin tightenin' my saddle girths an' coilin' my rope more careful. the rest of 'em get ready, too, except baker, who's propped against a rock swearin' outrageous. i put weatherby an' five others to hold the openin', an' carney an' smith's with me after the yellow fellow. “there never was such another fight. you've seen some bustin', an' you know what a lively bronco c'n do with a bunch of cow punchers, eh? f'r instance, that job at haley's. don't ever tell about it again! it was a shame to treat gentle stock that way. but this devil in the san luis—this war- whoop thing we got penned up in a nice little park, on a soft sandy floor, an' ten tough cowpunchers puttin' their muscles an' nerves an' brains an' machinery against him! . . . what's the matter 'th this whisky? it don't bite. “well, carney an' smith run him around to me, an' i throw, an' miss him about fifty feet. he's chargin' the gate, an' six cow- boys wavin' their hats an' firin' their six- shooters don't no more'n stop him. then he's drivin' at the rock sides of his pen, an' my heart flops around for a minute, thinkin', by hannah! he's goin' to climb the mountain. sangre de cristo but he circles around an' i try the rope again. than before, 'i've got twenty dollars less'n a it's disgraceful to throw like that! i see a thousand in bank at alamosa. will that buy. small grin on carney's face, an' so i click him?' an' yet i don't answer him. an’ why? my teeth together an' settle down to real work. “the's come a red-queer red color on "in about an hour my arm's achin', an' everything. i'm lookin' out through the gate the rope ain't even touched his shiny side. of our little park, an' i see a great white peak so i take a rest, an' go at it again. an' that's turnin' the color of blood. sangre de cristo! the way it is, hour followin' hour. he's sangre de cristo! it's over us an' around us chain lightnin' an' creamery butter mixed. an' under us-rocks an' sand an' sky an' air. once he steps into my noose, an' kicks it off an' through the gap i see the big white peak his toe like a show-dancer, so dainty. another gettin' redder 'n' redder, like a white bandage time it's over his head an' tightenin' as i stained with blood. ... i turn an' look at jerk my horse back on his haunches, but he my horse—at sunny sides. the's real blood does an acrobatic turn 't draws a yell of in his nostrils an' his golden coat is torn in downright admiration from the cowpunchers spots and dusty, an' he lifts his head an' looks lined up at the gate. such tricks's he shows me straight in the eye. i don't know what us with that rope! smooth? he's got 'leven we say to each other, but i stand up. cowpunchers eatin' their hearts out wantin' “weatherby,' says i, 'loose them hind him, an' wonderin' where in heaven an earth feet.' an'hell he come from, leadin' a bunch of “he does it, an' the horse's still, watchin' indian ponies and outlaw mustangs an' fuzzy me. runaways like that. his coat's like silk, pale “carney,' i say again, 'take the ropes off yellow, an' his mane an' tail's pure white, an' his fore feet.' he's built like one of them thoroughbreds at “you've got nerve,' says carney, thinkin' overland park, an' he's the proudest thing 't i'm goin' to try saddlin' him with all feet free. ever danced outside a governor's reception. “caley's still got the rope that's around “but i land him. the rope settles around his neck, an' for a minute, lookin' at sunny his neck an' sings tight, an' then the real sides, i'm all shot to pieces—i'm weak in the fight begins. it's all over the park, an' i knees, an' trembly like a woman. i don't think the rope's goin' to break every minute know why, but i turn an' look through the till carney, in about an hour, gets his rope on gap again, an' out a little way on the dunes the his front feet, an' then we down him. he's bunch of wild horses's standin' still, their up again and he's down, he's on his hind feet heads all this way, an' their manes tossin' scrapin' at the sky, he's chargin' at me like a red in the wind. an' beyond is—sangre de mad steer, he's draggin' me an' carney an' cristo! our horses half-way across the little park, he's “i draw my knife, take the rope out of givin' us a fight 't they'll be talkin' about in caley's hands, an' cut it at sunny sides's the san luis for years an' years. throat. the's nothin' but dust in our eyes “then he's down on the sand, with so an'a flash of yellow in the red, an' some shrill many ropes on him t' even he can't fight any whinnying, an' they're gone.” more, an’ we're lyin' back breathin'an? brinker spread both hands out on the pine watchin' him. the's a long silence, an' i table, flat and helpless, and leaned over seem to hear carney sayin' very far away toward me, with flushed face and troubled 'i'll give you five hundred for him.' i don't eyes. answer, an' soon i hear him say, farther off “say, what's ailin' me?” he asked. the department store at close range by hartley davis d esolutely the shopper from the to make some calls. besides, she couldn't i suburbs turned her eyes away from the see that it made any difference to the store; enticing displays in the windows of the big their delivery wagon passed her house every department store as she made for the main day. so the saleswoman said that the hooks entrance with the briskness of set purpose. and eyes would be delivered, and the shopper but inside, temptation was inescapable, for from the suburbs, bound to live up to her one may not walk through a department store resolution, fled by a side door. with one's eyes fixed on the floor nor turned the hooks and eyes were sold to her at a toward the ceiling, unless one wishes to be price perhaps a little less than the store made a shuttlecock. and straightway the actually paid the manufacturer for them shopper was checked by certain dainty articles nearly all the staples at the notion counter are seductively displayed at the jewelry counter. sold at cost, or below. the cost of selling for ever so long she had craved one of those them was at least two cents and the cost of fan-chains and here they were offered at the suburban delivery was twenty-five cents, so bargain she had been waiting for—a ridicu the net loss to the store on the transaction lously low price, just half what- was twenty-seven cents. hardening her lips and her resolution, the how can department stores afford to make shopper from the suburbs passed on-with this sort of sale? a gratulatory sense of virtue mingled with they couldn't if all shoppers resisted the regret, a not unusual concomitant of tempta- alluring displays in the windows, on the tion resisted. ... but really she must have counters and tables. like the lady in her- one of those belts. . . . and that aigrette was rick's poem, the department store shows just what she needed to wear with her new everywhere gown at the dinner on thursday. she paused an enchantment and a snare guiltily for a second and then hurried on. for to catch the lookers-on. the material in that shirt-waist must have cost more than the price asked, and it was and this is an effect that great pains are stunning. really, it would be saving money taken to produce. indeed, the arrangement to buy it-just like putting it in the bank of departments is of such importance that it one never can have too many shirt-waists. may mean the difference between success and and those stockings- the shopper from failure. henry siegel, who has started and the suburbs felt her determination oozing developed some of the biggest department from her at the sight of each bargain table, stores of the country, has devoted years of and in self-defense she hurried toward the thought and experiment to this matter, and rear. he always decides personally where the de- she bought the paper of hooks and eyes for partments shall be placed and what space which she had come to the store, paid five they shall occupy. in other stores the ar- cents for it, and asked to have it delivered rangement of departments is determined by at her home in orange, new jersey. the many conferences. the general rule is saleswoman diplomatically asked if the lady simple, though each store of course has its couldn't take the little package with her, difficult individual problems. articles that they didn't like to deliver parcels so easily come under the head of luxuries, like jewelry, portable. but the shopper from the suburbs are always pushed to the fore, where they will really couldn't think of carrying the package, be the first things to attract attention when because her purse was full and she was going people enter the store and the last things the department store at close range to catch their eyes when leaving. depart- very considerable profit, the whole can be made ments like those devoted to cloaks and suits to show a fair return on the business done. and millinery are on the upper floors, where the popular idea is that a department store they can have plenty is merely the group- of space and custom- ing together of a ers can be served large number of comfortably, without separate businesses crowding. under one roof. but now the notion the experiment of counter can sell ar- assembling busi- ticles at or below nesses in one store cost because it feeds to minimize the cost the more attractive of rent and other departments. no fixed charges has kellners other department furnit been tried and dis- draws such a steady carpete continued as a fail- stream of people in- ure. the success of to the store, without the department store advertising. this is rests upon an entire- because it sells the ly different principle particular articles —upon standardiza- that women continu- tion. the depart- ously need, day in ments are not inde- and day out, and a pendent, but highly good notion section, specialized activities cleverly placed at the conforming to cer- rear, will thus keep tain fixed laws that busy several depart- govern the whole es- ments that might tablishment. otherwise struggle the old way of for existence. the doing business was under-cost prices, it simple and the should be said, apply methods were highly only to the staples; elastic. the pro- by adding to the de- prietor bought as partment, novelties, cheaply as he could, on which there is a the "l" entrance to “the big store," new york. usually in quantities photograph studio a conservatory in the siegel-cooper company's new york store. everybody's magazine tinn that were measured only by his capacity to sell and by his credit. he marked the goods in cipher, sometimes giving the actual cost and the minimum selling price, sometimes only the latter, and left it to his clerk to get as large a profit as could be wheedled from the customer. the proprietor was therefore ab- solutely dependent upon the cleverness of his clerks for his profit; the clerk who im- posed most upon the cus- tomer was the best salesman and commanded a relatively high salary. the percent- age of selling cost was thus enormous. relying consid- erably on his own person- ality to win business, the proprietor usually stationed himself at the entrance of the store to greet customers and to settle disputes. now the difference between the old way and the new is the difference between the old- time workshop, where everything was made by hand, and the factory, where machinery does the work. the machine makes articles exactly alike in standard sizes and the cost of produc- tion is enormously reduced, as every one knows. the modern methods of conducting a department store represent the introduction into mercantile life of this factory idea, in so far as it stands for uniformity, automatism, and cheapened production. like the factory, the department store is itself a huge, ex- tremely complicated machine, and the store that most nearly approaches automatic perfection in its operation is the most suc- cessful. probably the most im- portant factor in the devel- opment of the department- store machine is the idea of “one-price articles marked in plain figures.” this makes it possible for the goods practically to sell themselves. the element of bargaining, the most im- portant feature of the old system, is almost wholly eliminated. the chief func- tion of the clerk is to see that the machine works properly. he has no more to do with fixing the selling price than has the purchaser. i do not know who originated this idea. there is a story that a glovemaker in paris first put it into execution and grew rich thereby. the first of the great department stores—the bon marché in paris, which does more than double the business of any other store in the world—adopted the plan when it first opened its doors. a. t. stewart introduced it into this country before the civil war, and in the shoe shop in wanamaker's philadelphia store. a display in the marshall field company's store, chicago. a musicale in wanamaker's philadelphia store, john wanamaker was swift to realize its value. another important principle of the system of standardization in the department store is that all departments shall make practically the same percentage of profit. manufacturers who sell to department stores are often puzzled by the operation of this principle. i know of one of these who sought the merchandise manager of a big new york store with a novelty that made a direct appeal. “it looks promising," said the cautious merchandise manager. “how much?” “we can supply you in quantities at six cents apiece," said the manufacturer. “the selling price is twenty-five cents.” “very good," said the manager; “i'll give you an order. but we will sell it at fifteen cents." “no, the selling price must be twenty-five cents,” insisted the manufacturer. “we have taken large orders with that stipulation." everybody's magazine “we can't handle it at that price,” said the make practically the same percentage of manager. profit. a little later the same manufacturer sought it is then the volume of business and not the same merchandise manager with another the individual profits of departments that article that also pleased, and the manager make the great prosperity of a department was ready to buy until the question of the store. many owners of big stores main- selling price came up. the manufacturer tain that the fundamental principle is to gave the figures, explaining that they meant a reduce the whole selling machinery to the profit of forty per cent. to the store. smallest possible cost and to fix prices so that “can't handle it,” said the manager; there will be no actual profit on the goods. “there's not enough profit in it.” that is to say, these stores try to sell goods the manufacturer went away persuaded at exactly the price at which they are billed to that each department in that store did busi- them, plus the cost of selling. for their profit ness according to its own notions. as a they depend upon their discounts, the five, matter of fact, it was standardization that six, or seven per cent. allowed for cash pay- fixed the percentage of profit. ment. if they followed the custom that the first article would have been placed in prevails in practically every other commercial a department that turns over its capital many activity of letting accounts run from ten to times in a year; the second, in a department thirty days, they would not make a profit at that turns over its capital very slowly. now the prices at which they sell goods. it is obvious that a department that does a the actual figures as to the volume of busi- business of, say, $ , a year on a capital ness of the big stores are rather closely of $ , , can sell each article for a much guarded, and, except in one instance, those smaller margin of profit than a department here presented are estimates. they are rea- that does a business of $ , on the sonably near the truth, however. marshall same capital. and the manager's appar- field & company of chicago lead the de- ent inconsistency is perfectly reasonable partment stores of the united states. the when one remembers that standardization death of the head of the firm resulted in the requires that all departments shall in a year publication of the total for , which view of the shopping district on sixth avenue, new york. the department store at close range reached $ , , . this is the retail busi- ness, it should be remembered, the whole sale business being twice as much more, and bringing the total up to about $ , , . john wanamaker's philadelphia store comes next, with a volume of business that approximates $ , , , while the new york wanamaker store ranks third in this store in chicago, the simpson crawford store and the fourteenth street store in new york, and the henry siegel company store in boston. james stillman, president of the national city bank in new york, is heavily interested with him. the two big mccreery stores and the adams-o'neill stores, the latter formerly separate businesses telephone switchboard in the marshall field company's store. country, with something like $ , , . the siegel cooper company and r. h. macy & company are close rivals, with very little difference between them, while the simp- son crawford company, b. altman & com- pany, james mccreery & company, and stern brothers of new york, rank high. if one knows the volume of business of a department store, one can estimate the net profits pretty accurately. they range from five to seven per cent. of the total sales. the profits of the two wanamaker stores are about $ , , a year, while the macy and siegel cooper stores each make between $ , and $ , , a year. the ownership of these great businesses is mostly in the hands of a few men. since the retirement of robert c. ogden, who was the head of the new york store, john wan- amaker and his sons own all of the two big establishments. the siegel cooper store is controlled by b. greenhut and his son, b. j. greenhut, who is the active head of the busi- ness, and by four members of the cooper family, although a considerable part of the $ , , worth of stock is divided among small shareholders. two brothers, isidore and nathan straus, own the macy store, but the latter's sons, jesse, percy, and harry, have an interest. henry siegel is president of the company owning the siegel cooper each having its own great building, the hahne store in newark, and the mccreery store in pittsburg are owned by h. b. claflin & company, the great wholesale dry goods house that entered the retail trade chiefly to protect its wholesale business. because it is volume of business that counts, every department store of course tries to keep its stock as low as possible. every- thing must be kept moving. under the old system a store would buy a whole year's supply of staples and a season's supply of other goods. but it is not so now; and the modern method throws upon the shoulders of manufacturer and wholesaler the risks that formerly were assumed by the retail store, to the grave disorganization of the businesses of those who supply the big stores. most women know that as a rule the things offered in bargain sales are sold below the actual cost of manufacture. now the bargain sale is popularly supposed to serve a double purpose—to attract people to the store and to get rid of old goods. the first proposition is always true, while the latter applies to only about one-tenth of the bargain sales. the manufacturer stands the loss, for there is a very considerable loss, of the other nine-tenths. it is axiomatic among department store owners that there is always a manufacturer alte slar macy's corner at broadway and thirty-fourtil street, new york. who is willing to sell some of his output at a selling, and he can make or break a great great sacrifice. it may be because he finds establishment. he takes over a part of the himself stocked with goods for which there is duties that formerly fell on the general no demand at the prices for which they were manager, the advertising manager, and, made to sell; oftener, he is hard pressed for frequently, one of the members of the firm. ready money. but whatever the cause, the primarily, his business is to see that goods result is a bargain sale in a department store. are bought to the best advantage and sold and in all cases, except the one bargain sale as quickly as possible. in ten by which the store is getting rid of its the work of the merchandise manager own goods that haven't sold, the establish- is extremely varied, his knowledge extraor- ment makes its regular standard profit. dinarily wide. the price of raw silk in the buying for a department store has italy, the weather at home, an advance been as carefully standardized as the selling, in furs in london, the efficiency of a $ -a- although the process has been slower. in the week clerk in his store are matters of daily old days the owners of the store did all the concern to him. in the course of a morn- buying. then, as departments increased, ing that i spent with a merchandise mana- this part of the work was turned over to the ger in new york, he authorized, after five heads of departments, who were called buyers minutes' talk, the purchase of $ , worth and who were responsible to the general man- of goods beyond the buying limit allowed a ager or to one of the proprietors—a method department. a few minutes later he refused that still prevails in many of the biggest stores. to sanction the purchase of $ worth of something like half a dozen years ago the goods for another department. and then astute john wanamaker saw that there was he devoted nearly an hour to investigating a a weakness in this system and he further complaint made by a customer that a silver standardized the buying by introducing the purse for which she had paid $ . could merchandise manager. other establish- be bought in another store for $ . . he ments have followed his example. knew offhand what this particular article had to the merchandise manager is deputed cost in vienna and the duty on it. the supervision of both the buying and the it is the ambition of the merchandise mana- the department store at close range . ger to keep stocks down and to increase sales; that is, the volume of business. he is therefore continu- ally between the scylla of running out of stock al- together and the charyb- dis of being overstocked. he has his eye on every department, and each morning at nine o'clock there is handed him a statement of exactly what was sold on the previous day and what stock is on hand. every article in the store is marked with a tag macy's has the largest department store restaurant in new york. showing when it was re- ceived and when it was put on sale. if a very important factor. the amount of certain goods are not moving, he sends for money that shall be expended in advertising the buyer in charge of the department to is decided by the heads of the concern-in explain. when the explanation is unsatis- these days the proprietors are almost wholly factory, the merchandise manager directs occupied with the finances and with deter- two or three of his own particular staff of mining questions of policy that give each experienced salesmen, employed exclusively store its particular character. the advertis- in this sort of work, to go into that depart- ing is the largest single item of expense of ment and find out what is the trouble. if the a department store, apart from the money prices are too high, they are lowered. if the spent for goods. last year the daily news- salespeople are inefficient, they are replaced. papers in new york were paid $ , if the styles or colors are not popular, there by the siegel cooper company; $ , is pretty sure to be a bargain sale of those by john wanamaker; $ , by r. h. goods. for it is better business to sell articles macy & company; $ , by the simp- for next to nothing than to carry them in- son crawford company; altman & com- definitely. pany spent the least of the great establish- the merchandise manager also governs ments—under $ , . but altman & the advertising, deciding which department company have other expenditures that might shall be exploited and what space the others legitimately be charged up to advertising, one shall have; he also determines the window of which is the enormous sum spent on the displays. in both cases the weather is delivery system. all of their wagons and automobiles are as fine as money can buy and the horses used for the wagons cost about $ , a pair. in establishments with- out a merchandise man- ager, the advertising manager has much au- thority. his chief busi- ness is to make sure that every five cents spent on advertising shall bring in a dollar's worth of busi- ness. one of his hardest duties is the distribution of charities. some of the big stores appropriate $ , a department in wanamaker's philadelphia store. every year for charities, in everybody's magazine addition to giving away many articles. the the business in books. if the buyer is reason- advertising manager is paid anywhere from ably sure that he can sell copies of a cer- $ , to $ , a year and he earns more tain novel, he doesn't buy that number at once. than he gets. the salary of the merchandise the publisher usually gets seventy-five cents manager is a variable quantity, ranging from for a book that is listed at $ . , retail. $ , a year up to $ , , the maximum the department store buyer orders ten books, being paid in the store known as the fair in for which he pays $ . . he sells these chicago. frequently the merchandise chief books at $ . each—the selling price is as gets a salary and a percentage of the total carefully standardized as everything else in a business. next to him department store, as i are the buyers, the ac- shall presently ex- tual heads of depart- plain. when the first ments, whose relative ten books are sold, standing depends up- the buyer orders ten on the importance of more, paying for the department in a them out of the sales particular store, for of the first ten, and so each has its features. on until the demand most buyers receive for the novel is ex- from $ , to $ ,- hausted. if he sells a year, but the the whole , he has range is from $ , done a business of to $ , , the latter $ on a capital of sum being paid the $ . , and he has the linen buyer of the profits made on each marshall field store ten to apply to buy- in chicago. siegel ing other books if he cooper company wishes. paid its former gro- of course most of cery buyer $ , a the articles sold in year. he began as a department stores are clerk at $ a week. not to be had in the subject to the rules open market. certain that standardize the things have to be or- whole establishment, dered a long time in the buyer has much advance; before they leeway. he is appor- are made, in fact. tioned a certain part the famous fountain in the siegel cooper the buyer arranges to of the store and a company's store, new york. have deliveries made proper proportion of every month or at the rent is charged against him. this is based shorter intervals, paying spot cash on each upon the cost of the building, when the con- delivery, and thus avoids tying up capital cern owns it, or upon what the concern pays, in the whole order. when it leases the property. he is also as- the manner in which the selling price is signed a share of the general expense of heat, fixed varies in different stores, but the prin- light, delivery, bookkeeping, advertising, and ciple is the same. the merchandise mana- other things. he is given a certain amount ger, where there is one, always fixes the of capital with which to do business and his selling price. oftener, this is the duty of the purchases each month are regulated by the buyer of the department. everything is de- sales of the preceding months. within cer- termined on a percentage basis. to the tain limits he can determine the number of price at which the goods are billed to the store salespeople and the salaries that shall be are added the fixed charges, which include paid in his department. rent, delivery, bookkeeping, selling expense, like the merchandise manager, the buyer etc., the range being from eighteen to thirty makes every effort to keep stocks low, in order per cent., and the average about twenty- that the capital invested in the department five per cent. the most variable of these may be kept working. for illustration, take items is the rent charged. manifestly, de- the department store at close range partments like furniture, pianos, and house. but when an employee steals goods to sell hold utensils, which require a vast amount of and is caught, arrest follows. space, must pay a high rent in consequence. professional shoplifters have been largely to these fixed charges is added the net eliminated, owing to systematic prosecution. profit, which in most stores varies greatly by far the greatest number of thefts commit- in different departments. it is not based ted by outsiders are traced to women, usually upon the highest price that the public can reputable, who yield to a sudden temptation. be persuaded to pay, as in the old way, but a curious thing is that they seldom take on the number of times that the stock—that articles of any value. they keep on stealing is to say, the working capital-can be turned until they are caught-each store employs over in the course of a year. in some de- from five to fifteen detectives, of whom partments the profit placed on particular about half are women and then the guilty articles may be only two or three per cent. ones are invited to the manager's office, where in others it may run as high as forty per cent. they are searched, and closely questioned. yet at the end of the year the two depart. they are detained until investigation is made, ments will show about the same percentage of but if their stories are proved and it is shown net profit. an article that sells for seventy that they are not professional thieves, they cents in one department may be shifted to are allowed to go. they seldom offend a another and sold for fifty cents, without second time. incidentally, the newspapers making the slightest difference in the net never name a store in which a person is profit of the store at the end of a year. . arrested for shoplifting, for the simple reason most people think that the custom of that it would frighten away customers. a fixing prices in odd cents is to make goods retail store on broadway that did a large appear cheaper, but that isn't the reason for it. business was actưally ruined by the publica- when one deals in percentages there are tion of the details of several arrests within bound to be odd figures. take the books as its doors. an illustration again. the store pays seventy- at least a hundred kleptomaniacs are five cents for each volume. it adds twenty- known to new york department stores. five cents for the fixed general expenses and most of the managers admit that klepto- eight cents, for the profit. if the department mania is a disease, to be dealt with as such. were not compelled to carry thousands of there is a certain grim humor, affording food dollars' worth of standard works, which sell for thought, in the fact that two of the worst slowly, the percentage of profit charged would offenders belong to the families of high in- be lower; if it were not for the enormous surance officials and another is the wife of a holiday trade, the percentage of profit charged bank cashier!. there is one pitiful case of would be higher. standardization again. a woman whose daughter, a child of ten, this charge that i have called net profit always accompanies her and promptly in- isn't all net by a good deal. it must cover the forms someone in authority when her loss of breakage and general destruction, the mother enters a store. . failure of goods to sell, and theft. the let me return to the employees of the big cheaper stores suffer more seriously from stores. under the buyer is the assistant thieving than the higher-priced ones, because buyer, whose salary is sometimes very large, their employees are less trustworthy. for depending on that paid his chief, and next years the proprietors estimated that their to him is the stock clerk, who gets anywhere theft losses were due half to their dishonest from $ to $ a week. then come the employees and half to outsiders, but not salespeople. among the men the best paid one of them would venture to estimate are in the furniture and piano departments, the total. there is a curious standard of where they usually receive a drawing ac- ethics among some of the employees. they count, that is, a minimum fixed weekly sal- do not regard taking articles for their own ary, and a commission, computed at regular use as theft, whereas to take them for some intervals; and in the clothing department, one else, even a member of the family, is where the best salesmen get $ a week. plain robbery. almost never are these guilty for women the millinery department is the ones prosecuted even if they are detected best, the salaries ranging from $ to $ a and the proof is conclusive. they are dis- week, but there are two long seasons of idle- charged, of course, and notices are posted ness. sales women in the cloak and suit de- in the dressing-rooms explaining the reason. partment get from $ to $ a week. everybody's magazine the wages paid the senior salespeople in directs the clerk to deliver her purchases, she the general departments of the best stores are has little notion of the highly organized ma- from $o to $ a week. the juniors range chine that carries them to her home. let us from $ to $ . below these are the cashiers, take the macy store, which claims to have wrappers, checkers, cash girls, and errand the most perfect delivery system in the coun- boys. in macy's and wanamaker's begin- try. the whole basement, two acres in extent, ners are started at $ and $ . a week; in is given over to the packing and delivery de- siegel cooper's no employee receives under partments, with a small space for the com- $ a week and those whose wages are under plaint bureau, which employs sixty persons $ have luncheon free, a luncheon so good who investigate about complaints a day, that even heads of departments take ad- written, telephoned, or verbal. about nine- vantage of it when they want to save time. tenths of them are due to errors made by cus- the demand for really good salespeople is tomers themselves, or to the non-delivery of greater than the supply and the chances of goods ordered but not in stock. if the com- promotion are excellent. the head cashier plaint bureau is given the date of a purchase of macy's, who now gets $ , a year, began and the name of the purchaser, in five min- as a cash girl in that establishment at $ a utes it can trace the package through all the week. persons who handled it. the actual mistakes the employees in any one of the big stores made by the delivery department of macy's would make a fair-sized town. the present is about one-half of one per cent. super- wanamaker store in philadelphia has more intendent price, who has been in charge of than , employees and the new store will the department for thirty years, is extremely have , , distributed over forty-two proud of that record. it is very remarkable acres of floor space. the wanamaker store considering that macy's deliver, on an aver- in new york employs about five thousand age, , packages a day under ordinary people. it has ten acres of floor space in the conditions and , in the holiday season. old a. t. stewart building and twenty-two in this macy store, when the parcels are acres in the new wanamaker building, the wrapped they are tossed into a chute, where two being connected by subways. macy's is they are picked up by a conveyor, working on still the largest store under one roof, with the principle of an endless belt, one belt twenty-six acres of floor space. on the day leading to another, from floor to floor and when i saw the actual figures—it was in a across the great spaces. delicate glass is quiet season and the weather made it the carried as safely as a roll of muslin. when dullest month known in years—there were they reach the basement, the articles are , employees in the store. the general discharged upon four great endless belts public does not come in contact with half of arranged in the form of a rectangle, which the employees of a big store; for example, bring them to the sorters. these in turn the salespeople, floor-walkers, and such em- toss the packages into other conveyors, which ployees in the macy store number only about carry them to the tables for the different parts two thousand. the non-productive staff, of the city and the suburbs. here they are as it is called, is in round numbers thus again sorted into particular routes, each divided: delivery, ; manufacturing, ; having its own bin where a clerk makes an wrappers and checkers, ; office force, ; entry of every package. either the superin- porters, cleaners, elevator men, etc., ; tendent or his assistant unlocks the bin, and cashiers, ; receivers, ; packers, ; the drivers and their helpers carry the pack- engineering force, . the general manager ages to the wagons. looks after them all with the assistance of the the c.o.d. system, which is such a con- general superintendent and his subordinates, venience to customers, entails a vast amount including the floor-walkers—or aisle mana- of trouble and expense upon the department gers, as they prefer to be called—who are a store. in the first place, it necessitates spe- sort of police officer. incidentally, if the cial cashiers; each driver is bonded, the firm employees would make a town, the number paying the premium, and he is required to of people who enter one of these big stores settle up after every trip. then, the per- daily would make a city. it seldom falls be- centage of people who order goods sent home low , , and during the holiday season c.o.d. and change their minds when the it reaches , . goods arrive is dismayingly large. besides, when a customer in a department store ever so many people with a curiously per- the department store at close range verted sense of humor think it a fine joke to with full pay and without a penny of expense order a quantity of goods sent to some one to herself. in the store is an emergency who knows nothing about them, and this of hospital, with a physician and trained nurses course results in endless bother. sometimes always in attendance, and medicines are there is a different motive. one store had a furnished free. particularly flagrant case of a woman who or- the curse of all department stores is dered thousands of dollars' worth of goods tuberculosis and the physician at siegel sent to different addresses before she was cooper's watches the great army closely. finally caught. her explanation took away when an employee's symptoms indicate the breath of the general manager. she was the dread disease, the sufferer is given the teaching her daughter how to shop! privilege of going to a sanitarium that mr. the macy store can deliver packages in greenhut maintains at summit, new jersey, manhattan for less than five cents. it costs to remain until cured, or, if the disease is too other stores from five to ten cents. each macy far advanced for cure, until the end. it is driver is supposed to make a certain number one of the finest benefactions i know of, and of trips a day, and he is paid if he makes one of its finest points is mr. greenhut's ret- additional ones. the drivers' uniforms are icence about it. furnished them and it is the custom of nathan also in this big store is a social secretary, straus personally to present each driver with who is becoming an important personage. $ and each helper with $ after the holiday the employees call her “the welfare woman,” season, when the wagons are going from seven and i like that better. certainly it is more in the morning until midnight. also they descriptive of her infinite activities. none get a week's vacation with pay every year. in the great beehive is busier than she, none there is a growing disposition on the part more beloved. she is everywhere preaching of department stores to look after the welfare the gospel of clean living and cheerfulness. of their employees. the question of wages, she mothers the whole establishment. always a source of grave concern, is being the wanamaker stores have clubs in which adjusted on the basis of accomplishment, the benefit idea is worked out in the form of that is, in many of the stores salaries are fixed education and social activities. these clubs by the quantity of goods that each clerk can go in for languages, literature, and other things sell—and the plan is likely to be universally that make for culture, and the firm contributes adopted. filene's in boston has a nearly liberally to them. most of the fines that are complete system of what is practically profit imposed in department stores are turned over sharing. in new york the plan of paying to these organizations of employees. salespeople on a percentage basis is called it is the claim of department stores that paying them what they earn for the store. they have more eleemosynary features than if a clerk is paid $ . a week, and the any other big business. this isn't exactly selling-expense in the department is three true, but it is true that they give the public per cent., she is supposed to be selling $ greater service for less cost than any other worth of goods a week. now if she sells an institution. witness the rest- and writing- average of $ worth, she is worth $ rooms, the restaurants that are usually con- a week, so the firm can afford to raise her ducted at a loss, the arrangements that are salary to $ or $ . and can still reduce the made in most stores to care for babies. the selling-expense so far as she is concerned. it wanamaker store is strong on these features. is worked out differently by each store, but in the new building in new york there is one that is the principle. in saks & company of the finest auditoriums in the country. it nearly all of the clerks receive a commission. seats , people and two concerts are given most of the stores have a mutual benefit each week-day during most of the year. it association with a sick fund, which the firm has its own singers and instrumentalists and finds it a great economy to support liberally in addition employs some of the great masters. simply because it practically eliminates richard strauss was paid $ , for three shamming. that of the siegel cooper store concerts. it costs about $ , a year to in new york is very prosperous, with a large give these concerts and admission is free. surplus. in addition mr. greenhut main- of course it pays-remember, the wana- tains a large hotel at long branch, new jer- maker stores lead in the volume of business sey, where every woman and girl employed in new york—but the public profits, never- in the store may have two weeks' vacation theless. alexander by ben blow illustrations alexander sat out in whackin' up to where the a the road, deserted, by martin justice melons is, nine chances to whooping in desolation, as he one he's goin' to skyte out watched a crowd of barefoot an' whoop aroun' till every urchins trudge down the dis- guinea on the place squalls, tance in a haze of dust. his water-melon-patch, water- ears, low, drooped, pictured melon-patch,' an' then " the misery that possessed him, and every johnny simmons cut in glibly, “an' then one in hearing distance knew that he was that blame waggle-legged hired man o old torn with sorrow. with agonized thumpings harkinses'll come a-runnin' out an’ shoot us of his tail he beat up the dust behind him in full o' salt.” tiny spurts, and when the boys turned noisily meantime, while his former friends were into a little by-lane-one of them lingering a congratulating themselves on his absence, moment to cast back an imaginary rock of alexander still sat out in the road bewailing ponderous weight—he gave himself anew to his blighted life. hoarse from much vocali- desolation and threw yet more pathos into zing, he emitted the long-drawn, excruciating the whoops that already wrenched his over- whoops with which he was accustomed to burdened soul. reproach the moon for being full. his eyes “if he ain't the durndest fool i ever seen," half closed in ecstasy of misery, his ears filled observed the urchin who had devoted a brief with melodious outpourings from his harassed moment of his valuable time to delivering a soul, he was absorbed, and did not notice an farewell threat, “he's clost kin. he kin chaw approaching vehicle until the soft thudding of off more trouble an? howl over it louder than horses' feet drew very close, and then, turning any pup i ever had, an' that ain't been no few. a mournful face over his shoulder, he was pap says he kind o' thinks, sometimes, that galvanized into frenzied terror, and departed the pup wuz born noodle-headed an' it keeps down the road in vast, spraddle-legged leaps. gettin' worse, hey?" the glance had shown him deacon simmons the inquiry was addressed to a freckle- in his buggy, coming home from warsaw, faced youngster who lacked two upper front while close at hand, with evil in his eyes, teeth. his neck scruffed up, was deacon simmons's “yep,” was the reply. “you called the boze, boze the redoubtable, boze who had turn, fatty. that ain't no lie.” licked every dog in macedon. “you bet it ain't no lie,” said fatty. terror lent wings to alexander's some- “s’pose we took him 'n' what then? while what gawky paws. the dust he kicked up we're a-scrapin' our pants buttons off belly- made him resemble a whizzing comet, leading alexander a nebulous yellow tail. his wails ceased. he needed all his breath for purposes of loco- motion. he fled silently, with fear palpita- ting in his heart. reaching the lane, he bolted madly in, gathering yet more speed from hope that sprung anew. close behind he heard deep breathing and the snick of awful jaws that snapped in lustful hungering for his blood. around the corner swept boze, almost nip- ping the frantic pup on the turn; then, know- ing that deacon simmons would not go that way, he slowed up, stopped, and sneezed away the dust that had settled on him from the cloud stirred up by alexander. and then he laughed. his tongue hung out, his ribs heaved. far up the lane he saw the pup, his legs spread in wide disorder, departing at a rate of speed that would have made a jack- rabbit envious. boze straightened up, kicked out his hind legs, scratching up and casting far behind him little bits of turf, looked long- ingly again at his escaped prey, and said, “woof! woof-woof!” with great contempt. “most got him that time, didn't you, old boy?” said deacon simmons, coming up. his face was humorous, and his tone caressing, for he knew that a thorough rolling in the dust was all that alexander had escaped. then, smiling happily, he drove on home, in blissful ignorance that close at hand, hid in a con- cealing elderberry thicket, was his son and heir, ringleader of a predatory band whose mouths watered and whose stomachs ached with hungering for the melons of his friend and neighbor, peter harkins, and that alex- ander, in his flight, had traced their footsteps up the lane. beset behind, abandoned by his friends roo, ar-roo!” a rock, dropped from the clear sky, lit between his paws, raising a puff of dust, and bounded against his stomach, drum-taut to give a better volume to his voice. the howl terminated in a frightened “oof!" as his muscles, contracting involuntarily, cata- pulted him straight up until he cleared the ground. his ears, soaring under the impetus of his sudden leap, flapped skyward, setting off his frightened face, while with wild paws he clawed desperately at the intangible air. from the deep of the elderberry thicket, across the fence, the boys emerged. checked in his impulse for flight by the memory of boze, the pup assumed a mournfully apologetic air, and wagged his tail. “dog rat his skin, d’you ever see sech a pup?” asked fatty, with undisguised disgust. “s a lucky thing we seen your daddy comin' in time to duck into the elderberries, hey?”. this remark was directed to johnny sim- mons, who gave it unqualified assent, and then observed, “ought to 'a' tied him in the first place.” “that's what,” said fatty, blazing into wrath. “i've a durn good notion to climb over the fence an' lambast the stuffin' out o' him, right now. did your durndest to git us noticed, didn't yuh!” he was speaking now to alexander, who settled meekly into the dust and wagged a sad, apologetic tail. johnny simmons, with meditative mien, bent a stout elderberry, and when it popped, breaking, the pup cowered yet lower, shivered a trifle, be- thought himself of flight, and then remem- bered again that back of him was boze, boze the relentless, who even now might be sneak- ing on him unaware. he cast a hasty look around, then dropped his lean head to his terror lent wings to alexander's somewhat gawky paws. before, nothing was left for alexander but to howl some more. seating himself, he glanced around, settled into comfort, pointed his nose skyward, and tuned again a wail of desolation from his dusty vocal chords. “ur-roo, ur- dust-smeared paws, and hopelessly resigned himself to torture with appealing, mournful eyes. "beatin' don't do no good,” said fatty, softened at this sight of utter woe. “he'd everybody's magazine howl so everybody in a mile an' a half'd think we wuz prying his back teeth out with a rat-tail file, an' he wouldn't go home; naw, you c'd beat him into pulp, an' all he'd do'd be to waller an' howl. we got to take him, sought his champion, and with hot tongue licked his dusty, brier-scratched bare feet. a kindly little hand patted the pup's muzzle, then closed firmly on one ear, while the other hand emerged from concealment, bearing the he clawed desperately at the intangible air. that's all they is to it. we jist got to, that's bull cord, and alexander was tied, tied so all.” securely that a fringe of hair stood up around then there arose before alexander's ap- his neck like a spiked collar. the crowd re- prehensive eyes a champion in the person of sumed its march toward the melons, with “whitey wilkins," a tow-headed youngster whitey wilkins, dragging alexander, bring- whose blue overalls, supported by a single ing up the rear. gallus, hung farther down one leg than the across a field, over a rail fence, through other, making him seem to limp as he walked. which alexander was forced with protesting “aw, don't beat him, johnny,” he begged, howls, into another field and down to a creek, "aw, don't. how'd you like to be left be- the march led. hind if you wuz the pup? i'll take care o “now, fellers,” said johnny simmons, him, honest injun, if some o’ you fellers’ll “we foller up the creek till we git to a gully, lift me a melon.” then we take the gully an' that lands us in "i'll git you a melon, whitey," johnnyol? harkinses patch, but we got to do some simmons responded promptly, much re- awful snaky crawlin', cuz the grass ain't higla lieved, “but you got to swing on to the pup an' they's no tellin' but what that blame hired awful tight.” man o old harkinses is settin' up right now sliding his hand far into the depths of the a-layin' fur us, with his eyes peeled on them half-masted pants leg, whitey wilkins pro- melons." duced with great triumph a length of grimy with a view to future depredations, johnny twine, hid in some moment of boyish inspira- simmons had marked out the ground long tion for just such need. “here's a piece o' before, and led by him, the boys trudged up bull cord,” he said; “i guess he ain't a-goin' the creek, alexander joyful even in restraint. to bust that. hyah, sandy, hyah, sandy, when they reached the gully they stopped hyah, puppy, come here, you durn fool.” and gathered close, and johnny simmons one hand patted the front of one blue leg spoke again. in irresistible invitation, while the other held “say, fatty,” he said, “better leave the in readiness the tether that was to bind. pup an' whitey here. we don't want sandy alexander arose, reassured by whitey's ad- no closter, cuz he might snake his head loose, vances, and squirmed between two lower rails hey?”. of the snake fence. humbly crawling, he “how fur is it?" inquired whitey, not the alexander least abashed at being mentioned second to "durn your picture!” he gasped. “don't the pup. you know who your friend is? here i'm “right smart piece up the gully, whitey," a-missin' all the fun fur you an' you go actin' was the answer. “you better stay here. scratch. mind now or you'll see what i do no tellin' what's goin' to happen when you to you.” go melon hookin'. if that blame hired man he got up, releasing alexander's muzzle happens to skyte out after us you don' cautiously. the pup regained his feet and need to lose no sleep. just turn the pup shook himself, beginning at his ears and loost an' make out you're crawfishin'. you ending at the very tip of his mud-smeared ain't had no hand in melon hookin', no, you tail, liberally bespattering his guardian with ain't. you just happened to pick this place ooze, and then glanced upward with one hu- cuz it's a likely lookin' spot fur crawfish. morous eye, entirely unabashed. the boy crawfishin' ain't no crime, is it?” seated himself on a tuft of swamp grass, and “one spot's good as another spot," re the pup, snuggling close to him, rested his sponded whitey. “ all the same to me. i'm head on his knee and looked up into his face the kind that changes spots when i git tired. with honest eyes. a muddy hand stole out don't you lose no sleep over me, but don't you and gently patted the nestling head, and git excited an' furgit to lift me a melon, cuz i with perfect confidence that his words were ain't anxious to go back an' lift one all alone!" understood, the boy spoke. "nough said," answered johnny sim “what in time makes you sech a fool, mons. “you git one if any one does. come sandy?” he asked. “you don't do nothin' on, fellers, snooks while we're in the gully, but waller in trouble from mornin' till night. belly-whacks to the ground when we git to i lay right now you're up to some devil- the patch; le's go!” stooping, they went up ment." the gully, disappearing around a little bend, the pup wagged his tail, while his soft and alexander and his guardian were alone. brown eyes denied utterly that he harbored the pup whimpered, looking after them, and any thought of evil, and the boy patted his when they had disappeared from view, looked head again. far up the creek a cow came craftily at whitey; then, without warning, down to drink. a bullfrog close at hand made a frantic leap, hoping to free himself. dived head first into the cool waters with a off guard and utterly surprised, whitey "plop.” the pup wriggled-his quick eye grabbed wildly, his bare foot slipped, and saw the cow, his quick ear heard the frog, he plunging heavily, he fell upon the pup, wanted to bark, longed to bark, started to squeezing out a howl. swiftly, he clapped bark, when a hand clamped his jaws close he fell upon the pup, squeezing out a howl. a muddy hand over alexander's muzzle, and then flaming with righteous wrath he belted him upon a mud-bespattered ear. and a second grimy, hard little hand dealt him another cuff on the ear. “they ain't no trustin' you,” said the boy. "come on, fellers," said johnny simmons. "le's git. never lay clost to trouble when you kin move." “durn you! blame me if i don't git mad turning partially around within his clothes, at you yit. i ain't a-goin' to fool with you tethered the frisking pup to a button far much longer.” he raised the pup's head in the rear. then whitey wilkins picked and looked down deep into his eyes. “y' up his melon and fatty peters picked up his, hear?” he said. “y' better mind.” and the crowd moved on to safety and the the pup wagged his tail. the cow de- feast. when they had reached the spring parted, her thirst slaked, and the bullfrog that marked the ending of their pilgrimage, lifted his round, knobby eyes which looked they put the melons in and piled cool leaves like tiny bubbles, above the water, and viewed and clinging mud upon them, released the his natural enemies with unconcealed dis- pup from bondage, and sat down to rest. and trust. a catbird, coming down to bathe, then the youngest member of the crowd, a perched close by with flirting tail, miawing at black-eyed urchin whose dark hair thatched the boy, whose arm ached with desire to get up a head of vast philosophy, made this pro- and paste a rock at her. the low-hung, fleecy found remark: clouds, swept wind-blown before the sun, “sav, fellers, ain't it just nifty to be a made shadows that raced across the fields like kid?”. cavalry in charge. the pup wriggled again, “oh, i do'know,” said johnny simmons. but the boy clung close to the string. “goin' to school ain't no picnic, but it's got the pup wriggled yet more, looking up to be done. i never thought chores was much the gully. the boy followed suit, and saw fun, neither. fur a good time in this world a sight of gladness: five hot urchins, one kind o' seems to me i'd rather be a dog. struggling manfully under two huge, striped look at sandy. does he have to scrabble melons, the others each with one as striped fur a livin'? does he have to worry his and as huge, came into view, and fatty, brains over spellin'? ain't a place to sleep speaking thickly, replied to an inquiring give him? an' when he grows up he ain't look: never goin' to have nothin' to do but snooze “naw, we didn't git 'em, naw.” in the sun an’git up now ’n’ then an' chase “come on, fellers," said johnny simmons, a shoat out o' the yard. d'vou s'pose fur a not made the least bit reckless by success. minute it tastes bad to him when he's a-chaw- “le's git. never lay clost to trouble when in' a hog's ear? not him; he likes it, he you kin move. say you, fatty! tie that does.” string o' sandy's to a pants button an’ let “dogs can't talk, though,” said billy day, whitey tote his melon. i ain't got no arms defending the niftiness of kidhood. “kind left.” o seems to me i'd miss that.” fatty, obedient, set his melon down, and “naw, they can't talk, but they kin wag alexander their tails mighty knowin'. anyway, how nothin' but instinc'. some o' you fellers tell d'you know they can't talk? my daddy says me what makes a dog put all four feet clost doc henderson told him that them big-bug together an' turn round three times 'fore he men in wash'nt'n told him that even the lays down.' d’you ever see a cat do that-a- teeny little ants talk to each other. now way? maybe you did, but i say you didn't, what you got to say?" cuz cats don't do it.” . this inquiry was made triumphantly as if evidently regarding the argument as too definitely settling the discussion, but fatty strenuous for the occasion, johnny simmons arose in negation that was contemptuously created a diversion. “where's that blame serene. pup?” he asked. “aw, g'wan," he said. “kin they hear as if in response to the inquiry, alexander what the ants say? g’wan." spoke for himself. “woof!” he said; “woof- “animals is got sense though, 'n'i wouldn't woof!” evidently he was far off, for the . be s’prised none if they could talk," inter- sound came faintly.. jected whitey wilkins. “our ol' maje got “i hear him," said billy day. “maybe bit by a cott'nmouth onct, an' pap says here's he's got somethin'; le's see!” most likely where we have to raise another “maybe," admitted fatty, “an' maybe fool pup, but does he die? naw, he don't not. y'never kin tell. sometimes he gnaws die. what does he do? he hunts up a hog holes in a brush pile till you'd think they wuz waller before the pizen gits to workin' good, a fambly meetin' o' swamp rabbits bein' held an' buries hissef till they ain't nothin' but his there 'n' nothin' comes out; then again he'll nose sticks out an'he cures hissef. how'd he let you kick a rabbit up between his paws an' know mud'd cure? has he ever been snake- not say nothin' till he's got a safe head start, bit before? naw, 'course he ain't, so some 'n' then he takes out after him hollerin' bloody dog friend o' hisn that had, must of told murder every jump.” him 'bout the mud. now is they any answer "tain't goin' to cost nothin' to see, to that? kin they talk or can't they?” though,” said johnny simmons; "come on, the discussion of old maje's snake bite ex- fellers, le's take a chanst.” perience was conducted with much asperity, the crowd arose and traced the sound of while the boys absorbed the water-melons, alexander's frantic yelps. there he was, now lusciously chill, and alexander, tired of dancing before a brush pile, attacking it furi- tethered the frisking pup to a button far in the rear. bombardment with melon seed, wandered away into the woods. fatty peters main- tained the negative with wise logic between vast mouthfuls of sweet pulp. “how'd the first dog find out mud'd cure?” he demanded. "he didn't have no time to git advice. somethin' had to be done an' done durn quick. i tell you 'twasn't ously with his teeth, now and then pulling the brush aside from an aperture that led into the depths, and growling with deep rumblings between barks. “i bet you he is got somethin',” said billy day. “look at 'im. sic, puppy; git 'im, boy!” alexander, enheartened, redoubled his ef- everybody's magazine forts and his growls. poking his. lean head into the hole, he pushed and squirmed, hump- ing his back up and shoving frantically with his hind legs, while with teeth and fore paws he strove to enlarge the opening. gradually guished beyond the power of any sound to tell. “that's him,” gasped fatty at a distance. “oh, no, he ain't no fool. oh, no, he don't hunt trouble any. will he know a polecat she grasped the broom and said, "scat you!" alexander scatted. he went in, while the boys, drawing encour- agement from his evident sincerity, poked into the brush pile and jumped on it, cheer- ing him on, the while, with frenzied whoops. burrowing desperately, the pup bored in and disappeared from view, save for a tail that quivered with excitement; and from the depths came fierce snarling and relentless growls. “whoopee! sic 'im, boy! sic 'im, pup!” yelled fatty, becoming excited. “say, fel- lers, honest, he might 'a' holed a mink.” the wild chorus encouraging the pup to "sic 'im” rose noisily, the growls became more fierce, and then, in the unseen depths, there was an earthquake followed by a wail of utterly heart-broken misery and despair. un- certain as to the exact nature of the quarry, the boys withdrew as the agonized yelps sounded louder and yet more loud, and then the pup burst from the brush pile, tail first, enveloped in an atmosphere that language is inadequate to picture or describe. “gee, fellers," said fatty, "it's a polecat! y' better run, cuz if it gits on you it ain't never goin' to come off.” the crowd needed no further invitation to withdraw, while alexander, blinded, wal- lowed in the dust, howling as if his heart would break, rubbing his nose, his eyes, an- nex' time, will he? some o’you fellers hurry up and tell me, will he, hey?” there was no answer to this frantic appeal for information; they were all too full to laugh. but alexander, by dint of much rubbing, had got one eye into condition to locate his com- panions, and with a deep yearning for com- fort, he made for fatty, howling as he came. “g’way,” yelled fatty: “g'way, blame you!” alexander still came on, and fatty, stop- ping swiftly, caught up a club and landed it with deadly aim upon his heaving ribs, still shrieking frantically, “g’way, g’home!” staggered, the pup saw johnny simmons and made for him. a well-aimed missile tangled his legs and brought him to the ground, where he pawed wildly and raised a whoop of anguish greater than before. then he saw whitey wilkins, and set sail for him. whitey fled, accompanied by much advice. “run, whitey, run,” howled fatty. “don't let him git any on you. run! run!” “git a club an' belt 'im,” screamed john- ny, while billy day, believing firmly that his turn would come next, wrapped his stubby legs around a sapling and shinned up, rubbing his watermelon-laden stomach woefully in- deed. in desperation whitey, fleeing, seized a club, and belted alexander once again. alexander with his last hope gone, the last thump still hurting his suffering ribs, the dreadful smell still in his nose, the dreadful smart still burning in his eyes, alexander stopped, cast a wild look around him, pointed his nose sky- ward, delivered one parting wail of despair, and set off homeward, his tail frozen to his stomach, each frantic jump punctuated with a frantic howl. there was a riot of smell in the woods. there was a riot of howling that faded away swiftly, and then the boys lay down and rolled and yelled in an ecstasy, which was interrupted by billy day's falling out of his sapling in the effort to climb down. finding that he wasn't hurt appreciably, the crowd slid back into convulsions of enjoy ment until billy, sobered by his tumble, hold ing his stomach affectionately, said: “gee, fellers, we better git; maybe it'll stick to our clothes!” too much overcome to arise alone, fatty was assisted into an upright position, and then the crowd departed with billy still em- bracing his injured stomach, which, he as- serted, was more painful when it joggled. now and then a wild laugh swelled up and set a hysterical example that was contagious, and at length fatty, gasping, managed to speak. “oh, no!” he said. “he ain't no fool, is he? d’you see him waller an’ waller an' scratch an' root, tryin' to wipe off the smell?” peals of laughter greeted the words. the woods rang as the noisy troop set off home- ward under the low-swung, western sun, which threw slanting, stripy shadows through the trees. alexander went homeward as the crow flies, went home to macedon, because he knew no other place to go. he had no time to pick paths, he had no wish to loiter, he had no definite purpose. all he desired was to for- get, to forget himself, to forget everything, to be annihilated, blotted out. accompanied by a tumult of howlings, enveloped in a halo of vivid smell, he tore wildly on, his voice merely suggesting the misery that he tried to express. his vocabulary was too limited by far, but striving nobly, he did his very best to tell the world the horror that was curdling his soul, and as he swept out into the big road, he added to his accompaniments a cloud of dust that almost hid him as he flew. past whitey wilkins's, stirring up nip, the wil- kins' irish terrier, into wild but hopeless chase, he sped. chickens flew squawking away be- fore him, and if dogs do communicate orally, then the entire canine population of macedon knew that some vastness of grief, some un- speakable woe unknown to all previous ex- perience, had overtaken one of them, as alexander, shrieking, haled by the seven devils of despair, went home. mr. peters, in the barnyard, heard him coming, and turned in time to see him flash like a thunderbolt into the kitchen. there was a crash of crockery as he dived under the table, and mrs. peters, hardly recognizing the pup, lifted both floury hands appealingly, and ejaculated: “for the lan's sake!” then nerved to act, and act quickly, by the atmosphere that alexander had brought with him, she grasped the broom and said, “scat, you!” accompanying the exclamation with a hearty thump. alexander scatted. out from the door he flashed like an arrow flitting from the bow of robin hood. mr. peters, stooping quickly, seized a chunk of stove wood, and as alex- ander flew toward the spot that was sanc- tuary in his time of deepest trouble, heaved it at him and missed him by the fraction of an inch. as a flat stone drops edgeways into a still pool, alexander dived head first into a hole under the barn. “jeemses rivers,” exclaimed mr. peters, “what next? blamed if i ever did see such a fool in all my life.” a smile spread over his face, widened into a great grin, and as a mournful wail came out from underneath the barn, he doubled up and laughed. mrs. peters came to the kitchen door. “father,” she said, “ain't you ashamed of yourself, acting that way? you cut up like a big boy." mr. peters raised an appealing hand. “don't, elvira,” he said imploringly, “don't scold me. it's so durn funny, his tryin' to run away from hisself.” another snuffling wail came from under the barn, and a lean nose appeared seeking fresh air. “ jeemses rivers," said mr. peters, "that pup certainly is loaded down with the trou- bles that he's discovered. look at ’im, el- vira; ain't he full o’grief!” then the humor of it struck mrs. peters, and she sat down on the kitchen steps, and laughed until the tears streamed down her cheeks. f atty got home hungry, with a faint sugges- tion of the smell that alexander had brought, clinging to his clothes. stopping on the back porch long enough to dab his nose and cheeks with water, he added a polish from the roller towel and emptied the wash-basin upon the everybody's magazine family cat, which departed, shaking its paws in absolute disgust. “hello, mom!” he said. “gee, i ain't nothin' but hungry; i c'd eat a keg o'nails.” "i expect you could," said mrs. peters, smiling. “i expect you could. have you washed?” with one hand she elevated his chin. “your face is clean,” she said, seeing traces of his recent ablutions. “yep,” said fatty. “mom, we just had the dandiest time huntin'." then he sniffed suspiciously. “kind o' seems to me i smell somethin'!" "i guess you do,” said his mother. “what in the world you boys'll do to sandy next is beyond me.” “we never done nothin' to him, mom," said fatty, in earnest negation. “he didn't even stay with us long." mr. peters appeared in time to catch the last remark. "no," he said, "no. of course he didn't. jeemses rivers, i c'd hear him comin' half a mile!” fatty laughed. “say, pop,” he said, "seems to me that pup must have some grey- hound in him, cuz the last we seen o' him was a yeller streak. he wuzn't a-runnin'; he wuz a-flyin'. gee, but he was a-burnin' up the dust.” mrs. peters smiled indulgently. “come on,” she said; “supper's ready. sit down while everything's nice.” everything was nice. great heaps of bread, thickly spread, faded away before fatty's onslaught. the unskimmed milk, cool from the spring house, was rich and sat- isfying, and hot gingerbread and peach pre- serves brought on the peace that comes when healthy, boyish hunger is appeased. fatty was happy. his eyes drooped. sleep stole upon him until, at length, he arose and de- parted, staggering, to bed; soon silence set- tled down on macedon and everything was peace. under the barn, wide-eyed and sleepless, alexander moaned. perched high, the guin- eas smelt him and clucked little notes of flut- tering alarm. the moon came up, shedding a mellow light, and stilling the cicadas' drone. a stripy yellow moonbeam wandered into fatty's room and rested on his face. he turned himself, flung one bare arm above his head, still wrapped in dreams, and took a happy, deep-drawn breath that ended in a sigh of great content. his long, dark lashes swept his round, tanned cheek, and his lips, smile-wreathed, expressed that beatitude of rest known only to happy, tired, and healthy boys. in the thrall of primal instinct, under the barn, the pup arose, turned thrice around, and settled down again, and then he, alex- ander, worn out, himself found sleep and followed fatty into the land of dreamless peace. the spot that was sanctuary in his time of deepest trouble. the saving sense by johnson morton illustrations by j. a. williams a n aggressive taste for responsi- became, so to speak, an attending as a bility, one of laura barnard's well as consulting physician of the salient characteristics, had entailed soul, and when her guiding presence upon her a career of activity and, was required at a scene of action, from the point of view of her world she cheerfully hurried thither. in a at large, of unselfishness. single season she had snatched a “she's really had no life of her brother-in-law from the jaws of nerv- own." "she immolates herself on the ous prostration, guided a widowed sister's family altar.” “it's beautiful, of course, rudderless bark into the harbor of a sec- but isn't it rather foolish?” “oh, these ond marriage, and consigned to the safe penalties of devotion!” limbo of an obscure clerkship an incom- her acquaintances, in varying degrees petent nephew who dreamed wild dreams of imagination, were fond of observations of an operatic career. of this sort. it was only the superfine so on the very day of her return from comprehension of an intimate or two that was this last campaign, when she was trying not to able to put a finger on the fact that the success lose her high spirits in the sordid task of oil- attending her well-directed efforts in the field ing the creaking machinery of her neglected of family service brought an amply compen household, she was in no wise surprised at sating glow to the heart of miss barnard the sudden descent of her eldest brother bent herself. not that she ever touched compla- on the usual mission. cency; a sense of humor, unwonted yoke john barnard was, perhaps, the most de- mate to her dominant quality, held her back tached member of the family. his wife, from that pitfall of the serious, and had, no dead for many years, had been a person of doubt, been largely instrumental in allowing firmer fiber than most of the barnard mates, her at thirty-five the possession of a scarcely and had completely dominated her husband. impaired youth. a quiet, scholarly man, he lived, in accord- the youngest of a large and prosperous ance with her last wishes, in picturesque and family, whose other members shared dis- retired idleness on a large estate on the hud- positions and tastes singularly alike and as son that she had bequeathed to him, varying pointedly variant from her own, she had, after his existence by occasional winters in europe the deaths of her parents and the matrimonial and the east; his constant companion his flittings of her brother and sisters, become, by only child, emily. and it was in regard to the division of the estate, possessor of an this daughter that he had come to seek his income adequate for need and desire, and sister's advice. mistress of the great family house in the that warm june afternoon he sat on the suburbs. here, always to her satisfaction veranda in a straight-backed chair, holding a and often to her amusement, she found her- teacup in his slender, wrinkled hand. op- self in the position, as she described it, of posite him, laura, inwardly digesting the “adviser extraordinary to hesitating bar- purport of his visit, partially explained at the nards." to her came, from time to time, at luncheon-table, was piecing out her knowledge moments of doubt, various members of the by rapid and direct questions fired from be- family, pilgrims in quest of sympathy, at- hind the rampart of her silver urn. tention, and counsel, which they received in “and who is this wallace blair?”. ample measure. as the years went on she mr. barnard put down his cup to touch his everybody's magazine twisted white mustache with his napkin, “but you don't know emmy, laura ! before he answered. you've seen her only three or four times in her “my dear laura, i really don't know! at life, and really not since she was a child. least,” he went on, "he comes of no family she's different from what you imagine.” that i seem to have heard of. we met him but laura had interrupted the sentence in florence last winter at the house of an again with a favorite expression. english lady, a most agreeable woman, but “nonsense,” she cried gaily; "you're all sometimes, i regret to say, none too abstemi- alike! i've had enough experience in this ous in the matter of friends. emmy seemed family to know. from what you've told me to take a fancy to him at once. he is not at luncheon, and from what i've been able to bad looking, i must confess, in a certain extract from you this afternoon, i can evolve rather ordinary way, and he has a character- a more or less clear idea. i'll help you, istic western-candor, i may describe it, that johnny; you did right to come to me!” she is attractive to some minds.” spoke with decision. “yes; i'll go back with “does he seem to care for emmy?”. you to-morrow. it's lucky that my trunks john barnard coughed and hesitated. aren't all unpacked yet!” “yes and no, laura; but i'm free to say that i have not regarded his attitude with it was not until they were driving along much scrutiny; i have been altogether taken the curving miles of hillside that rolled above up with the deplorable fact that emmy seems the great river to “stonecrest," and mr. bar- to care, very pointedly, for him.” nard had leaned over the front seat to ply his “how about georgy trowbridge, john? coachman with questions as to the events of i've always supposed that emmy'd marry his absence, that laura found a first chance that child when he grew up!” and inclination for that arrangement of forces "that was just a boy-and-girl affair, i'm which an approach to a new scene and a new afraid, my dear, though george is twenty- opportunity makes essential even to the most three; just a passing fancy. he's at the house innocent of us. this time the process was as usual; but, come to think of it, in no very simple and readily concluded. the situa- good spirits. emmy pays but the slightest tion held no complexity; it demanded no attention to him. this blair absorbs her finesse. it concerned just a little girl, a utterly!” sweet, undeveloped child, lovesick at the laura smiled. “well, tell me just what most. there would be need of a word here, you want me to do.” a touch there; some control which she stood her brother turned to her sharply. e sharply. ready to give; advice, probably; a compen- “do?” he asked. “why, i want you to sating pleasure or two, perhaps, and the thing stop it! matters have come to a pretty pass was done! as for the man, there was no when a daughter of mine, delicately reared, need to think of him at all. she proposed to carefully educated, is ready to throw herself work along the line of least resistance. her at the head of an aggressive, self-assertive, imagination exhausted the present com- wild western bore of a man, who contradicts fortably and then left it to soar vaguely on- me at every turn, and doesn't let any one hold ward into a future golden with opportunity. an opinion but himself; a great, common, just then the carriage turned in at the drive- middle-aged— ” way, and through the trees laura caught “oh, he's middle-aged, is he?” laura's sight of a lad in white flannels hurrying across laugh broke in. “i'm afraid that compli- the lawn. even at that distance his gait be- cates our situation somewhat. but it's not tokened irritation. at the sound of wheels hopeless,” she added decisively, as she came he looked up, without stopping, and lifted his toward her brother and put a protecting hand hat solemnly. the sight of his yellow head on his shoulder. “don't worry, at any rate. brought a quick recognition to laura. she i'll go back with you and do the best i can. touched her brother's arm. i'm afraid that emmy sees too few men; “why, john!" she cried, “that was georgy leads too quiet a life. we must change all trowbridge! why on earth didn't he come that and make things a little livelier for her. to speak to me?" i can imagine what the trouble is; i know mr. barnard rested his eyes for an ap- young girls!” prehensive instant on the coachman's gray mr. barnard was looking at her curious- back. “yes, that was george,” he admitted. ly. piecing out her knowledge by questions fired from behind her silver urn. “i dare say he didn't make out who you elation, "we have all the characters on the were.” then he turned his eyes on his stage at the going up of the curtain!” then, sister, and they twinkled with meaning as he as her foot touched the ground, she felt that added, in a lower voice: she stepped at once into her own self-chosen “his mood, my dear laura, would seem to rôle of leading lady. signify that emmy is not alone!” mr. barnard was right. emmy herself ii had come down the steps to meet them, a slender, dignified girl with a manner that her emmy insisted on taking her to her room aunt, watching her narrowly, found unac- and, with an arm affectionately at her waist, countably familiar. at her side stood a tall laughed off her protestations. “nonsense!” man with laughing eyes, and laura knew that she cried, and laura turned suddenly at the it was wallace blair's firm hand that she word. “of course you're tired. such a long took as she sprang from the carriage. journey with poor dear papa talking all the “ah!" she thought with a quick sense of way!” everybody's magazine she closed the door behind them and began again. “this is the window that you'd better keep open at night; and do be careful that the screen is down; we are devoured by mos- people or so. to-morrow we go off into the country for an all-day jaunt. you ride, i hope? afterward there's a dinner in the neighborhood that i trust won't bore you. i had to accept for you. on thursday some "i suppose you men are used to being heroes in one way or another." quitoes! that closet by the fireplace will be more people are coming and i'm planning a the best for your gowns, and i'll send a maid sort of fancy-dress party for the end of the to unpack for you, as soon as your trunks week, on mr. blair's last night, perhaps. i come. we dine at eight; there'll be a dozen think i can fit you with a costume." she the saving sense looked at laura, in a sort of whimsical criti- cism, for a moment. “yes, i'm sure i can! do you know, i think you're a dear; and there's something about you that makes me feel that i've known you all my life!” laura was not proof against the touch of the girl's soft cheek on her own. she kissed her and smiled as she answered: "it's blood that tells, i suppose, and curi- ously enough, emmy dear, i've quite the same feeling about you.” then, as she took off her hat at the mirror, while the other watched her from the window-seat, she said casually: “by the way, tell me about mr. blair.” the girl's look seemed to darken, and for an instant she hesitated, but she answered easily enough: “why, there's nothing to tell, aunt laura. he's a great friend of mine that we met a year ago in europe.” then, with a touch of roguery, she ran to her and put a hand on her shoulder. “you are asking about him because he made an impression on you! he always does on a certain kind of person.” she laughed gaily. “perhaps it's well he did, for he liked you awfully." "liked me!” laura turned to put down her hat. “what nonsense! how can you tell? he's hardly spoken to me!” “oh, i know by a certain look in his eyes!” this time it was laura who laughed; the same rippling notes of merriment that the other had used. she shrugged her shoulders. "how long does it take to know his eyes?" she flashed back. · emmy made no reply. she was looking at her aunt with a sudden intentness and chose rather to send a question of her own. “it's the strangest thing, aunt laura; but did you notice how very much your laugh sounded like mine?” shadowy, half-comprehended, vaguely famil- iar impressions of emmy crystallized all at once into tangible form. the men. stood lingering for a moment, as mr. barnard, with a fussy finger on the shoulder of each, suggested the smoking-room. suddenly emmy's voice rose with its brusque young authority. “nonsense, papa dear!” she turned to the rest. “you shan't be banished. i'm sure nobody will mind and i think it will be great fun if you stay and smoke here." “why, my child,” protested her father, “that will never do! what will aunt laura think us? barbarians, no doubt!” but emmy smiled and had her way; already the cigars had been brought in and laura, nod- ding a far-away assent, was back in the past with a recollection of her own: a similar scene, a similar result, only it was a younger laura who had spoken, and another father who had been shocked. she chose not to face her revelation till late that night. then, ready for bed, she leaned her elbows on the dressing-table and, staring into the mirror, laughed aloud! “was there ever a droller situation?" she thought. "i bargained for a comedy of manners, at the very least, and now i believe that i have a farce on my hands!” she stepped aside, mentally, to regard her- self. the picture that she saw was as clear as the physical reflection smiling at her from the glass. she straightened her lips to seri- ousness. “you idiot,” she cried, "you delicious idiot; you've always had your own way, you may as well confess it, but now there's a chance that you've met your match! that little girl, with a will of her own, undoubtedly has a way of her own, too!” she caught sight in the mirror of the reflection of her deepening frown. it fled away at the return of her smile. yet, in the instant, even that had recalled its coun- terpart: a hint of a line on emmy's smooth young forehead! “the likeness is really uncanny!” she cried. “it's stronger than a resemblance; it's almost identity. laura barnard, i believe you've got to recognize the fact that your niece is just a younger you! was ever a woman forced before to look straight into the face of her own girlhood?” she drew in her breath sharply and shook her head. “did i call this a farce? i'm not sure that it may not turn out a tragedy, for i shiver, though i fortunate it was for laura's mental com- posure that wallace blair did not appear at dinner, for emmy herself proved quite enough to absorb all the thought and attention that the elder woman could detach from the de- mands of the occasion. as she watched the girl sitting at the head of her table, self- poised, alert, radiant, she recalled, one by one, the details of the picture that she had drawn so carefully only a few hours before; a mistake in every line! at the door of the drawing-room the everybody's magazine laugh. well, i'm not here to do either of while her hand tingled from the vigor of his these things; i'll face the situation frankly. clasp. i've come to help john as i promised, and to “if only i'd known that you and i had the keep that precious child from making a goose same good habit, miss barnard,” he went on, of herself. i can do it, too. of course, she “i shouldn't have taken my morning ride has no chance with me.” alone!” his air of proprietorship at once laura sat long in the silence of her mood, amused and annoyed laura. she struggled and as she turned out the lights, she found against it. that, like a good general, she had marshaled “i'm not so sure of that, mr. blair," she well her forces against the other's. knowledge smiled. “virtues, if you call getting up faced ignorance; wisdom squared itself in early one of them, can't always be counted on, front of inexperience; fact opposed fancy. you know. i'm a rather sporadic sort of her battle-line seemed so invincible that she person, i'm afraid, especially when i find went to bed in a state of tired satisfaction. i'm expected to live up to a reputation.” but with the darkness came, instead of blair looked at her quizzically for an in- sleep, a deeper contemplation, and, as she lay stant. then he laughed and shook his head wide awake far into the night, she was acutely as if to dismiss the subject altogether. conscious that her mind had somehow left “i see you're inclined to make game of the consideration of emmy far behind and, me," he said, “so let's talk of something else. instead, was busy with thoughts of wallace are you disposed, by the way, to give me a blair. cup of coffee? don't hesitate ”—he looked at her whimsically; “i'm not very used to people iii who weigh their words. but i'll give you a chance to think it over; so please wait a • wallace blair himself was the first moment until i take conrad to the stable.” person that laura saw in the morning. she he sprang easily to his horse's back and was had wakened early as was her energetic gone. habit, dressed quickly, and gone out-of-doors, when he returned, he found that laura her destination the garden behind its vine- had placed herself at a small round table hung walls that she had noticed the day be- drawn into the shadow of the vines. she fore. but once on the veranda as she lifted pointed to a chair opposite her own. her eyes to the broad panorama of the valley, “i have decided that you are to sit there"- she had stopped breathlessly. lawns of she spoke with much graciousness—"and very silken green, now elm-shaded, now vivid in soon you shall have some strawberries, three the sunlight, rolled to the very brink of the dropped eggs, and much toast. i have taken dipping bank below which lay the river, giv- mary into my confidence; she knows your ing back the sky in deeper blue. beyond the tastes, i find. meanwhile, to put you at your farther shore rose hills with many a hamlet ease, i am inclined to be generous and con- sparkling on their slopes, and over them fess to sharing one good habit with you. i stood dusky forms of guarding mountains, mean that of not breakfasting in bed, like their heads hidden among the fleecy morning some others who shall be nameless." an clouds. so absorbed was laura that she did instant later she wished that she had not not hear the sound of hoofs on the driveway, spoken, for as blair turned to take the dish of and she turned suddenly as blair reined in strawberries from mary's tray, he laughed his horse at the steps. again. his eyes flashed wilfully. “good morning, miss barnard,” he called “that's more like it, miss barnard,” he to her gaily. then he sprang from his saddle, cried. “now, i really believe that you very lightly, it seemed to laura, as she watched would have gone riding with me if i had him, for so heavy a man. as he came up the asked you!” steps he took off his hat. his thick hair, “odious, ill-bred person!” thought laura, touched with gray, lay in damp curls on his and she even refused the strawberries that he forehead, and his eyes swept over her boldly offered her, though he put some on her plate and admiringly from head to foot. laura despite her protest, and she ate them later. was acutely conscious of this, and she warmed "i shall not sit here a jot longer than is neces- to a satisfaction that her morning-gown was sary." but after breakfast, blair lifted the becoming in the very instant that she de- little table bodily, and carried it, dishes and plored the color that sought her cheek. mean- all, into the house. then, after he had the saving sense arranged cushions about her with uncommon hostess. the winstons came so late last deftness, he drew her chair into the breeze night that they thought they'd be too tired to and, lying at length in another, proceeded to go with us to-day, so she begs that you will light a cigar and to talk. an hour later, count her and rivers out as well. that interested despite her contrary intention, reduces us to four, doesn't it?” then straight- laura found herself in possession of most of way he took possession of the girl's basket the facts of his varied life: a motherless, and slipped it over his arm. neglected childhood, an errant youth spent “you'll have to excuse me, now, miss on the western plains; then the hot, adven- barnard !” he cried. “i always hold this turous mining days that had brought him thing for miss emmy when she cuts flowers, fortune. his candor, always contagious, was i wouldn't miss doing it for worlds. it's one at once appalling and delightful. of my proud prerogatives." “here am i”-suddenly he sat bolt upright his voice, boyishly happy, brought such an and his eyes looked straight into laura's accession of meaning to his words that laura “forty-three years old. i weigh a hundred looked up to see emmy's color deepen, and and ninety-five pounds. i'm as hard as her hand cling for an instant to the sleeve of nails. there isn't anything that i haven't blair's coat as he stood there. the girl may done that a half-way decent chap may do, have felt, perhaps, a hint of the other's and yet i've come through it all as sound as a scrutiny, for she came forward quickly and nut. i don't believe that i've even lost what kissed her. you easterners call your “ideals.' i've got “good morning, aunt laura; i hope that back of me one of the biggest mining prop- you slept well.” then she caught playfully erties in the country. honestly, miss bar- at her hand as if to draw her from her chair. nard, i can't tell you what i'm worth; it's “come with us,” she begged; "it's quite such a lot that i don't know and i don't much worth while to see mr. blair reverse the usual care. i have a pretty fair time in my way. process and make work of play!” i've picked up a good deal of what may pass laura, however, declined and, instead, for knowledge as i've knocked about the passed a long hour with her brother who, in world, and, though you wouldn't think it, i'm white ducks and under a green-lined umbrella, no end of a reader. but there are things i've escorted her on a tour of the grounds. his never had that i can't seem to get. somehow ostensible purpose, the discussion of some new i've missed my chance of growing up with methods of tree-planting, could not, however, the kind of men that i like to be with now; conceal his eagerness to learn her impression you can never be taken in among them unless of what he referred to as the “situation.” as you may say, you're 'caught young'! why, laura, i am afraid, proved an unsatisfactory that brother of yours, for instance, miss companion. she was preoccupied and silent. barnard, regards me as quite uncivilized. indeed, her brother, emboldened by the non- funny, too, for i can see his good points, fast committal nature of her answers, was even enough! by jove, it makes me hot to think inclined to accuse her of a change of base. i can't have this thing-intangible as it may “really, laura, if i didn't know you be--and when i see that yellow-haired cub better, i could believe that you'd fallen under that they call georgy trowbridge throwing the spell of that fellow yourself, as well as away like peanut shells the chances that i'd emmy!” then he looked at her quizzically. give good years out of my life to have had “do you know," he added, “that you and she a show at, why, i could shake him in my are uncommonly alike? don't you notice teeth, ungrateful little rat that he is!” it? i feel it all the more strongly now that i so emmy found them deep in converse as see you together." she came through the door. she had a to laura, this putting into words the basket on her arm and shears in her gloved impression that had for hours engrossed her hand. she peered at them from under a own thoughts brought a sudden realization wide-brimmed shade hat, and laura fancied of a psychological probability. was it not that she could detect a little surprise in the altogether natural that she should like wallace glance. blair sprang to his feet. blair, like him almost in spite of herself, “why, how the morning has gone! here's since his attraction for emmy was so marked, the little gardener already.” he fumbled and she and emmy were so palpably of the in his pocket as he met her. “i've a note . same type? carried a step further the de- for you somewhere,” he said, “from my duction halted abruptly at a conclusion that everybody's magazine left her breathless and with beating heart. supposed—she was even inclined to push her granted the premises, would it not then be show of disapproval to a degree that, had it equally natural that she herself, being what not been pitiful, would have proved amusing she was, should produce some effect on wal to the older woman; and toward blair she lace blair? instinctively she recognized that had developed an attitude in which reproach this might be true, and for one absorbed and indifference mingled fitfully. george moment she yielded herself unreservedly to trowbridge's behavior was perhaps the most the conviction, and was glad! yet, against trying of all, because, based on little reality, any manifestation of this feeling she brought as laura had now come to feel sure, it was to bear all the forces of her training and ex- loudly complacent. how the young cocker- perience. indeed, during the long miles on el exulted over blair in glance and move- horseback to the distant country club where ment; how he crowed whenever emmy hap- they went for luncheon, she contrived that pened to turn even so much as a hand in his george trowbridge should ride constantly direction! indeed, mr. barnard himself beside her; but her pleasure did not consist in was the only one whose mind and conduct any attention to the boy's ingenuous praises seemed normal. he had accepted the atmos- of emmy's beauty and emmy's charms. phere of unrest about him, which it seemed to these passed her by as she strained her eyes, laura must affect even the most transitory at each turn of the way, for a sight of a straight, guest of the week, as a necessary element in broad-backed figure that rode in front, and the eliminating process for which he had called held his horse close by emmy's side. upon his sister. he was disposed to waylay she longed to know just what he was say- her in corners and to compliment her, with a ing, to hear the tones of his voice, to see again sly playfulness, on her success. those clear gray eyes of his under their dark “yes, yes, you're coming out all right,” he brows as they had looked into hers when he had said. “i can see that emmy's getting spoke of himself. in spite of his success, he tired of the man already. she scarcely spoke was not altogether happy. he had told her to him this afternoon.” then, with a so. he had not got just what he wanted. chuckle of delight, “you kept him with you, would emmy satisfy him, she wondered! clever woman! do you know, i didn't think you had that sort of thing in you! i rather like it, too. well, he's going off in the morn- ing and let us hope he won't come back.” but laura's answering smile seemed rather as the night of the costume party drew weary, as her brother left her at her door. near, laura was conscious that she awaited it it was the night of the party and they had with a sort of superstitious impatience as come up-stairs together to get ready for destined to bring an end, if not a solution, of dinner. the condition of excitement and uncertainty in the intervals of dressing, laura's brain that had seemed for days to hang about every was busy. the very act of putting on the member of the household. she acknowledged gown of shimmering brocade, heavy with lace, openly to herself that her interest in wallace that had once been worn by emmy's grand- blair, whetted by her self-imposed restraint, mother, gave fresh impression to the sensa- had grown steadily. she was equally sure tion that she was approaching the climax of that his interest in her had strengthened under a drama in which it was necessary to dress the same stimulus. she recognized it in a properly her part. this thought called back hundred ways; from the fact, for instance, again all the whimsical fancies that had come that he sought her presence constantly in a to her on the night of her arrival. now, as new and unwonted humility, so out of char- she reviewed them, she was amazed to find the acter that it charmed her by its novelty all change that had come upon herself; to realize the more because she did not believe, nor that the necessity for achieving her own hap- want to believe, in it. she was pleased, too, piness had absorbed every other considera- by his attempts, as she grew more diffi- tion. then, without warning, her mind cult, to follow the windings of her feminine seized the truth, and she recognized suddenly, moods with that direct, unbending, masculine clearly, irrevocably, and for the first time mind of his. as for emmy, her manner without the complications of surrounding toward her aunt had hardened perceptibly. emotions, the nature of her feeling toward unskilled in finesse-more so than laura had wallace blair. she knew that it was love! iv the saving sense the sun blazed where but a moment before please you?" she laughed from the waves of had been darkness. her heart glowed in the her spreading skirts. emmy turned; in the warmth of it, and its brightness lit up every fading light, her glance evaded laura's eyes; corner of her soul. her very body seemed to her smile fluttered but a moment. stir to a new pulse of life. “really, aunt laura, you're very nice, “stretch forth your hand and take your indeed!” her voice was cool and her air own,” counseled her heart. “it is your right, preoccupied. in her hand she held a long your woman's right.” but into the silence of wax taper. she lighted it as she spoke. this paradise, where she lingered exultant “you see,” she went on as if in answer to with shining eyes, with flaming cheeks and an unasked question, “they've been stupid breast that rose and fell as if to the rhythm of enough to forget these lanterns that i wanted a song, broke at length the voice of reason. particularly to be seen through the windows “you are a woman,” it whispered, “and so while we are at dinner. every one is busy, you may give, but you must not take until and there's only a moment before the people what you want is offered you.” thus, come. i thought i'd see to lighting them through the triumphant symphony of her myself, but i don't believe i can reach them.” avowal rolled the first faint chord of reserva laura gathered her skirts about her, and tion, and in her mind there formulated itself stepped to the low wall. gradually an idea, which later on became a “nonsense,” she cried, “of course you purpose. as she closed her door and stood can! i'll help you!” she seized a lantern there for a wavering instant, she reached a and pulled it toward her. emmy was al- decision that, though it in no way bound ready on the wall at her side. her happiness, yet held it anchored, as it were, “touch each candle as i hold it out! there, to earth. a certain primitive instinct awoke like that! you'll find it much easier than within her. she would say no more, plan no taking down the whole string.” more, act no more. this was man's busi- in this way the lantern was lighted; a ness; let the women take their chance in the second, then a third; but the fourth proved to choosing! she brushed aside as carelessly be a trifle out of reach. laura stood on tip- the thought of emmy as of herself. they toe. at last she held it down, and emmy's were women both of them, and they must taper touched the candle. suddenly the in- await some sign from wallace blair; on what secure fastening yielded to the strain. the he should do hung the result. yet she smiled flame of the shaken candle caught the paper confidently, as she passed down the stair, the sides and instantly the blazing lantern had gleaming silver of her robes trailing behind fallen on laura's skirts. rivers of fire seemed to run over the lace. she jumped the hall was empty. through a half from the wall. "emmy sprang after her, red drawn curtain she could see the servants busy sparks glowing on her own gown. laura's with the dinner-table. she turned to the hands pushed her away. neither of them glass doors that opened on the western terrace. spoke, but into the silence broke the sound of outside it was not quite dark, for a linger some one running. a loud call came from ing sunset hung rosily through the twilight. the lawn: a man's voice shouting hoarsely: strings of japanese lanterns, as yet unlighted, “stand still, i tell you, stand still!” followed the line of the wall and crossed the then a hurrying rush, a leap over the wall, spaces of the lawns beyond, from tree to tree. and wallace blair, breathless, panting, was at as she opened the door laura stopped sud- laura's side. he flung his coat about her, denly. at the corner of the terrace stood a he tore at her smoldering skirts. she felt figure in white. it was emmy. the quaint herself seized strongly, drawn close within his fashion of the gown she wore and her pow- arms and held there. she yielded unhesitat- dered hair lent to the girl a curious look of ingly, her face against his shoulder. his maturity that seemed to the other, staring voice was at her ear. fixedly at her, to accentuate with startling “my darling, my darling!” the vibrant distinctness their strange community of passion of his whisper thrilled her. “thank resemblance. yet she recovered herself in- god, i came in time!” his kisses covered stantly, and came forward smiling and with her neck, her cheek; and at their touch her outstretched hands. at emmy's feet she soul awoke to triumph. joyously she turned bent low in an exaggerated courtesy. “pray, to meet his lips with her own and, smiling, madam, and how may your grandmother opened her eyes. her. everybody's magazine then, in the involuntary loosening of his “go, go,” she whispered. “don't stay grasp, in the hint of wide astonishment that with me another instant.” she pushed him she could not fail to catch in the gaze that gently in the girl's direction. “go to emmy bent upon her for an instant, and then left at once!” then she turned and walked slow- her abruptly to rest on the shadowy figure of ly to the house. the girl standing, with averted head, proudly the closing of the door behind her had all aloof, by the wall beyond, laura, with a sud- the effect of the fall of a curtain. it was over den blinding pain, through which yet worked now, this drama of her fancy; not farce, not a whimsical sense of a prophecy fulfilled, comedy, not tragedy, but a mingling of all realized the truth, cruel, inexorable, yet a three, like life itself! solution as definite as any her fancy had imagined. wallace blair, who stood now within her own room her mood changed. abashed and undeceived, had acted indeed; she aushed warmly with a fresher, more but, in the tension of the moment of dan- vital remembrance. wallace blair's arms ger, their strange resemblance to each other were again about her; his face touched hers; heightened in the falling darkness by the his words caressed at her ear. that moment gowns they wore, he had mistaken her for had been her own; in balance with it every- emmy! she disregarded the touch that would thing else rose valueless. it could never be restrain her like an apology, and detached her- taken from her. hers the infinite dream, self quickly from blair's arms. she laughed, though emmy's the reality! as she busied herself with the shreds of black- "i might have taken that as well,” she ened lace that hung to her skirts. mused like the woman she was, “but i am “now i know how it feels to have my life glad that i did not try!” her stanch sense saved!” she looked up at him archly. of justice asserted itself. “he will love her, “though i suppose you men are used to being he will be tender to her, yet he will rule her. heroes in one way or another. well, i thank she needs just that kind of a man. i wish you!” she held out her hand. "odd, that -" then she checked herself and isn't it, that there should be but the one smiled happily, as with the unfinished thought phrase for everything? i couldn't say less if she became conscious of a curious appro- you had picked up my pocket handerchief! priation of some part of emmy's happiness, no, don't explain ”—her seriousness flashed as if it belonged by right to her own lost quickly through her banter as blair started to youth. speak —“because-oh, won't you see?—why, then, suddenly, she aung herself on her because you can't!” she touched his arm bed, in a passion of weeping; for the privilege with a sort of tenderness, her impulse big with of comprehension brings with it an inevitable pity. her eyes met his squarely and in the penalty of pain, and to those whose smiles look was, perhaps, a clearer revelation than are readiest is given an especial heritage of she knew, for the man's eyelids fell before it. tears. the seamy side of the curtain by elmer b. harris there is a tradition among older actors but was asked to "show up" for rehearsal i that the tricks of the trade should not at ten o'clock. the first act of “sapho" be revealed to the public. in violating this had mushed together like a tray of caramels convention i have no desire to kill the goose in hot weather. at the theatre a long serpent that lays the golden eggs. i would merely of women waited patiently, its head in the illuminate the life behind the scenes, which, box-office. the company and "supers," in from the front, swims in hazy romanticism overcoats, boas, and muffs, were assembled on and often suffers from being misunderstood. an empty stage, and the work of toning up the world on the seamy side of the curtain is began. neither a better nor a worse world than the to an amateur of the gowns and glances of one on the picture side. the bond of human- a first night, an empty stage is as forlorn as a ity between the two is becoming stronger and last year's bird-nest. scenery was mattressed stronger as time goes on, and all that strength- against brick walls. in the auditorium a ens it may be regarded as bringing the thea- lone white-haired woman woke to music with tre into closer sympathy with the needs of a wand of turkey feathers the crystal pendants the public that it entertains. of a chandelier. rainbow motes eddied in a after the earthquake in san francisco, single shaft of sunlight that penetrated the when the theatres were all burned down or gloom and revealed the tarnished furnishings closed, i availed myself of olga nethersole's of a box with five gilt chairs. the musicians' invitation to write her a play. in order that easels yawned with upturned eyes, and a crew she might be able to offer suggestions as the of ragged stage-hands grumbled at the inun- writing progressed, she offered me a small dation of "props.” part in her company. i accepted, and joined grumbled also, though not so audibly, the nethersole forces in butte, a place the members of the cast, to whom the lines known among mining men as a large body of were stale and meaningless. a pale-faced, ready money entirely surrounded by whisky. weary band were they, after their tour of i was given no chance to enjoy the scenery, twenty weeks. the winter day, the bleak everybody's magazine inhospitality of the barren stage with an act had religiously carried a bouquet of golf- drop bellying like a sail, made sufficiently sticks , miles—and used them once. difficult the simulation of the brilliant paris as i entered he was sitting at the better ian carnival with which the play opens. of the two mirrors, rubbing cold-cream lacking the customary hypodermic of foot into his face with crusty persistence. his lights and applause, the work was stagy, white gloves were tied on the steam-pipe to inevitably so—and that's where the shoe dry. i had met him before and he watched pinched. the “extras” were stupid, ne- my self-abasement to a footman with merci- cessitating an endless repetition of the same ful amiability. it was a moment for confi- lines and business," into which it was never- dences and commiseration. the account he theless incumbent upon the principals to put gave of the company, emphasizing the do- each time the maximum of feeling and fire, mesticity of the married folk and the naiveté for this was no mere “word rehearsal.” her of the juveniles, surprised and amused me, private car and trained chef saved madame and prepared me for things that followed. nethersole the minor vicissitudes of travel, my costume fitted me like a strait-jacket. and she was, on the whole, merciful to her it was a blue livery trimmed with red, sup- limping followers. i can see her now, in a plemented by white stockings peeled over smart drab velvet coat and two-cornered, shockingly thin calves abnormally sensitive mink-fur hat, a little napoleon as she paced to drafts—and breezy remarks-pumps, that dingy stage, her eyes ablaze, her clenched and powdered hair. a paper dickey con- hand quivering like a lance, hurling orders cealed my negligee shirt, and the ready-made into those fagged-out, stolid faces. white tie was reminiscent of noonday wed- "life, good people! more life! put ding processions on the champs-Élysées. blood into it! the public won't pay two dol- keeping the stockings up was a task the im- lars to see this piece unless you make it real!” portance of which i recognized esthetically i did not participate in the matinée, but but which i had not then mastered technical- watched it from the front, reporting for final ly. unless i walked as if on eggs, they instructions at . . madame's dressing wrinkled. this mention of stockings is not room, which was barely large enough to frivolous. the actor who neglects his cos- contain her wardrobe, had been extended tume gets a note from the “missus." by means of pieces of scenery. in this “overture and beginners!" announced the annex, at the foot of the mirror framed in red, call-boy. blue, amber, and white lamps, to match i hurried on stage, but long before the cur- the lighting of the various acts, were de- tain rose the state of my nerves was such that ployed her silver paint and powder service, a chair or anything of that category looked manicure set, combs and brushes, and a like the promised land. to err was hu- jewel box emitting sparks of prismatic splen- man, to sit down-divine! accordingly i dor. over the mirror was a bit of brilliant perched on a sofa under a palm the leaves embroidery from mexico; beside it a tall vase of which budded from screw-eyes. of american beauties. on a small side table “come off the rented furniture!” barked were the remnants of a broiled squab chicken, a little rat-terrier of a man dressed in a chi- a grapefruit salad, and some champagne in a nese blouse and pigtail, as he padded by. silver goblet, for on matinée days madame i obeyed grimly. remains in the theatre from twelve till twelve “who's that?" i inquired of mr. golf- and dines in her dressing-room between per- sticks. formances. at that moment she was in the “the tenth assistant stage-manager,” re- hands of her hair-dresser. her secretary- plied golf-sticks, grinning. “thirty per. companion, a clear-headed, unemotional eng- why didn't you knock his block off?”. lishwoman with a white whistler lock like a "places, please!" commanded the china- plume in her black hair, was busy beside her. man, returning from madame's door on the a folio of bills lay between them. i have vivid memories of the discomforts the overture ended in a burst of hysterics of my own dressing-room in the basement and the curtain rose on the carnival. cos- there were two freckled mirrors, two kinds tumed and framed in scenery, the rehearsal of cold water, and trunks for chairs. the was metamorphosed. the principals, bored writing on the wall was not biblical. into in the morning, were now on the qui vive, this i was crowded with a lean youth who while the “supers," who had shown consid- run. the seamy side of the curtain erable flippancy, as if acting were but a lark, “aha,” said the audience. “now!” there now evinced a tendency to congeal. among was a rustle of expectancy. them the secretary-companion, arrayed in a at the sound of the bell the call-boy poked watteau costume and wig, just descended, his head through the door. the lights were as it were, from one of the tapestries, moved dim and he passed as the concierge. fanny, with stately stride, tuning her voice to the who had been talking to her business manager general hubbub and addressing them thus: and retouching her make-up while the change “don't stand there like a cigar - sign! was made, handed the rabbit's-foot back to dance! make a noise like an actress! wa- her maid, threw jean's goatskin about her, la-wa-la-wa-la-wa-la! whoop-la! oh, you and entered. goat! look as though you enjoyed it!” “fanny le grand!” i circulated with my tray of pink cotton the concierge returned to bed. in reality ice-cream and gilded wooden goblets, the he returned to the stage entrance, rolled a damaged side of which i was instructed to cigarette, and wanted to bet a week's salary keep "up stage.” next i carried on a that the “white sox” could trim any picked papier-mâché brazier with incense for ma- nine in the united states. some one said he dame's rendition of fanny's incantation to was drunk. love. that was the nearest i got to the meanwhile, the people in front" held their footlights. for a detached moment i had breath as jean threw fanny across his bosom ventured over the firing-line and was con- and mounted the staircase-not to “ce nid scious of thousands of eyes. between whiles ouaté, ca pitonné, où les boiseries se cachaient i paraded in front of the supper-tables where sous des satins tendres”-heavens, no!-but artificial tarts, rubber fruit, and bottles from into the maze of "drops," "sand weights," which even the ghost of champagne had de and “borders" that form the overhead equip- parted, did duty as a repast. ment of the stage. if any one smiled at this at one exit madame's brother, the mana- procedure, it was not on our side of the cur- gerial headlight of the american tour, mettain, where the humor of the situation had long me in the wings, his overcoat on his arm, his since expired on the altar of bread and but- eye-glasses careening toward me. ter. at the top of the staircase jean replaced "my dear fellow, your distinction is mar fanny upon her feet and both hurried down, velous. whenever you 'go on,' the audience madame to kiss her jeweled hands to the clap- stops coughing. but”- and he lowered his ping assemblage and the leading man to step whisper to a tragic bass—"pull up your back and yield to her the cream of the ap- stockings!” plause. fanny, graceful as a grecian goddess in i had no part in the second act and, since her crown of titian hair, clinging tunic, and the orders tacked on the “call-board” strictly sandaled, pink-tipped feet, was sitting by the forbade the presence on stage of all not ac- wooden fountain using a sad, fixed smile on tively concerned in what was going forward jean, the “big country fellow,” who had just there, i spent the interval in the basement recited: among the waist-high wicker baskets into which the wardrobe mistress, wrinkled and to breathe the breath of life into the marble silent, was already packing the costumes of of thy body, o sapho- act one. knots of men and women loitered about, resting after the dance. life was here when, catching her stage-manager's eye, she again clothed in its right mind. all the erst- said sternly, her back to the audience: while flush and beauty of the carnival were “send that girl in blue off stage; her dress gone. the joie de vivre, donned perfuncto- is too low!” rily with tights and vine leaves, was with adenly, in the midst of shimmering con- them cast aside, and had given place to the fetti, pirouetting paper ribbons, dancing and petty platitudes of a half-blind, breadwinning song-darkness. the “set” melted away existence. like sails in a storm. leaning shadows in caoudal, whose statue of sapho, for which shirt-sleeves rolled the infamous staircase into fanny was model, won him admission to the position. the call-boy, an apron around his academy, addressed dechelette, who gave the neck like a bib, stood ready. in the prompt carnival: corner the chinaman, minus pigtail, rang a “i say, old chap, how are you fixed ?” bell. “oh, very agreeably. for supper i had a everybody's magazine basin of soup, a cut of apple pie, and a mug out, both of you, and leave me alone with of coffee—thirty-five cents.” him!” "one and five," calculated caoudal in at some unseen signal the orchestra stole english money. “not bad, not bad.” and in among the baskets, where they fingered he doctored his mustache with spirit-gum. their instruments and gossiped over affairs through an open door i caught a glimpse in the musicians' union. presently an elec- of the gray-templed, bacchanalian cupid re- tric light winked twice and they began to moving his crown of pink cloth roses to mop play softly, like a street-band at dusk when his brow on a grease rag the color of the the lights prick through the trees, and studios thames. are deserted for cabarets. “my word,” he was saying to the china- i crept to the trap and looked out. here man, who had his face in the wash-bowl, and there in the cave-like murk were the eyes “'arf salaries again 'oly week--an' two of of opera-glasses. a tangible hush was upon my kiddies with birthdays in april!” the audience. in the air was the sense of a in the adjoining room tina, the toe-dancer, crowd bound by a palpable web of attention the grapes still in her hair, was weeping silent that a single false tone or gesture would ly on her sister's shoulder. shatter irreparably. the mind of the “house" “what's wrong with the little danseuse?” was focused upon the spectacle of pride sur- i inquired of golf-sticks. rendering to the despotism of sex. a flutter “oh, her toes hurt her. she got an encore passed over it-fanny's gown had caught on to-night!” a chair; but the web steadied, held firm, re- it was saturday, and the “ghost walked,”. maining thus until the cry of triumphant love giving each one an envelope in exchange for brought down the curtain and loosened the a signature. from the comedian's room: rattling applause from the cliffs of shirt-waists "fourteen bob for a sleeper! what a beyond. blawsted outrage!” in act three fanny and jean are installed beside the filter a buxom, motherly look in the country, outcasts, fanny in curl-papers, ing woman in stubby-toed english boots, jean juggled between pity and disillusion. with the “sentinel” and other pamphlets in the smock and overalls of a french railway strapped to her telescope basket, was ex- porter, i tripped over exhausted stage-hands pounding christian science to the popcorn- sleeping while they could, and strolled on to munching musical director. do my “bit,” which was to flirt with fran- “yes, but there's no need for any one to be cine, an engaging wench in cap and sabots— depressed. life is just what we make it.” the christian scientist. our flirtation had near her another woman, one of a group in it more of art than instinct and degenerated was saying: at once into mere “business," like the stair- “well, do you know, i stopped in front of case scene. she told me, as i chucked her a fruit-stand yesterday to get something for under the chin, that i was to fetch a child the journey, and i just couldn't make up my from the station. every now and then the mind whether to buy red bananas or yellow. erstwhile chinaman drew a whistle from his i prefer red, do you see? but 'e 'ates rich pocket and played train. the lime-lights, food-cawn't bear butter on his vegetables. each with an attendant, were singing softly, wants a bit of pampering, does my old man. like kettles on the hob. over a spirit lamp there we were: i wanted red and 'e wanted in the wings the wardrobe mistress was cook- yellow. well, what d'you think i did? i ing an omelet into which the call-boy acci- decided to get some of each " dently dragged the end of his cravat. fran- suddenly, on the stage directly over our cine, coming off, slapped him and all three heads, jean's voice: were shaken by silent merriment while, on “sapho? to the devil with sapho!" stage, fanny was reading of the death of there was a crash; from the ceiling the little alice dorée, who threw herself from a dust sifted into my eyes. it was the statuette window because dechelette left her—and in of caoudal's "sapho" doing its nightly “fall.” the “house” was silence. on the window- after a silence came fanny's voice, choked sill a heart of lettuce awaited its cue with with tears of rage, driving into the street the astonishing composure, and a metronome men who had preyed upon her beauty in the acted the part of a sober-voiced clock mark- name of art: ing the relentless march of the great band- “you beast! you dog of a man! get master. the seamy side of the curtain the child i had gone to fetch sat in the sleeping form with a lingering last look, came wings with his mother. under the lash of bravely out into the falling confetti. of this one-night stands the color had left his cheeks, she scooped up a handful quickly and scat- but he was saying to the quiet woman in tered it over her shoulders before reach- black: ing the window. here she sobbed and "mother, i love you so much i could just leaned against the sill for support. in the hurt you!” “house" there was an apparition of hand- then, for the nonce forgetting his teddykerchiefs like white butterflies. the tenth bear, he tickled her with a straw and smoth- assistant stage-manager muffled his whistle: ered his giggles upon her shoulder. inno- “whe-w-whew-whew!” with a final effort cently he played the rôle of fanny's unwel- fanny dropped her veil, took the hand of come child, his one concern being to catch duty, and trudged resolutely into the wings. the right inflection so that madame should back she came immediately to kiss her hands nod pleasantly or stop to coddle him as she to the women who held their hat-pins be- tiptoed by. tween their lips while they applauded. the his appearance and the fact that he is theatre was emptying rapidly. in the bal- flamant's son, clench jean's resolution to de- cony, alone in a row of seats, a plain woman sert fanny. he tears loose from her desper- of uncertain age clapped earnestly, reach- ate hands, from the "grip of a drowning ing her hands to the artiste, while her hus- woman,” and leaves her in tears upon the band, rather bored, waited patiently in the floor, very sloppy and miserable, while her aisle. child, who neither knows nor loves her, whines “take another, madame!” and raises ned generally in an adjoining more smiles, a little cooing note of appre- room. ciation from madame, and from the thinning through this noisy scene the stage-hands audience more pattering and once or twice- slept unbrokenly, their snores frequently “brava!” a last buzz in the loft and the bringing the irate tenth assistant stage-mana asbestos dropped like a guillotine. ger fuming out of the prompt-box. one or in an incredibly short time the stage was two of the principals lounged about discussing cleared and swept. scenery, baskets, trunks, the hotels of the next stop. were loaded on drays. a single hunch-light besides being a noisy scene this last was threw its glare over the boards scarred by a also a strenuous one, requiring muscle and thousand "shows.” in the empty audito- endurance. in watching it from the front, rium a policeman searched the aisles with a or even the stage, it was difficult to realize dark lantern. men donned coats and de- that the whole thing had been pieced together parted, the stage-door wafting back the tang like a game of blocks; that every gesture, po of cigarettes new-lighted. actors, with a sition, intonation, tear had been planned, last look at the “call” for the number of their studied, perfected, until all had become habit, berths, followed into the snow. and the and the completed pattern had flowed place was deserted before the power and smoothly. yet it was so. building the scene purse of the organization, accompanied by her from blocks required energy none the less, faithful secretary-companion and her maid, and both madame and her leading man were appeared from her dressing-room. without panting when the curtain fell, both trembling a word and like one very tired, her jade brace- like reeds in a current. also, there were tears lets clinking like manacles, she walked slowly in the woman's eyes. across the stage and out into the snow, nod- in act four, when i reached my conning- ding good night to the ancient doorkeeper. tower, jean had returned to hover moth-like she stood on the threshold for a moment, round his passion for fanny, who burned filling her lungs with the clear air, her eyes, then with the steady, lambent flame of ma- unpainted now, sweeping the stars. before ternal affection and self-sacrifice. jean at her stretched a far white satiny plain of that moment slept on the couch. the mu- spider-like mines with glowing eyes, the sicians came trooping in through the base- raison d'être of butte. with another long- ment and played under the window, using the drawn breath, she stepped into the waiting backs of one another's coat-collars as music- brougham. racks. fanny wrote the farewell letter--for “depot!” commanded the secretary, hug- she was determined to marry flamant and ging her bills. .give her boy a name--and, caressing jean's “yes, ma'am.” where did you get it, gentlemen? by charles edward russell author of “soldiers of the common good" editor's note.—this is the second of mr. russell's articles on the sources of certain of our vast sudden american fortunes. it shows how some of them were founded upon a union of corrupt politics and unscrupulous finance that gave possession of our streets to a few manip- ulators, presented them public property worth hundreds of millions of dollars and forced the real owners—the public—to pay exorbitant prices for poor service. chapter iii the first developments of the formula for sudden wealth srb blouvain- it is an agreeable dream to assume that i successful men create their own occasions and with skill and mighty mind build their fortunes in spite of fate and circumstance; whereas there is no other lesson of observation so sure as this, that opportunity thunders long and loud at many a man's door before he wakes to have greatness thrust upon him. take for an example this public utility business that is the chief source of sud- den wealth in america; for years and years it lay there in all men's sight and nothing came of it but the simple pub- lic utility. street-cars were operated in this country for more than a generation before any one suspected that of all gold- mines the richest was concealed be- neath the humble five-cent fare; and when the discovery was finally driven into the heads of men, the process was infinitely slow and fortuitous and not due to any man's prescience. by chance · and by circumstance, for the greatest profits of the public utility arise from its union with corrupt politics, and that union was an evolution and had nothing to do with any man's gifts. if the public util- ity had grown up at a time when political bosses and devious financial games had been made impossible, there would never have been any great fortunes drawn from the street- railroad business, ability or no ability, gifts or no gifts; a fact that might possibly moderate our transports as we contem- plate certain of the glittering white palaces. philadelphia saw the beginning of the real traction industry of america, and the centennial exposition of dis- closed the first sure glimpse of the golden treasure. large numbers of people must be transported about the city; the horse-hauled street-car was the only vehicle for these migratory millions. up to that time the street- railroad had been by capital despised and by the public tolerated as a curi- ous but necessary evil. the cars were slow and scarce; the service was in its infancy. in philadelphia, as in other american cities, there was a separate company for every line of track, small companies of obscure and hardy invest- ors; for to capital sitting upon millions, these two streaks of rust and a jangling car that collected nickels seemed too small to deserve the attention of adult financiers. slowly the fact became ap- parent that the business was not really where did you get it, gentlemen ? to be despised, for it contained two elements imprisonment; marcer received a sentence that made it worth while. first, it built up about twice as long. yerkes was pardoned suburbs and had theref_re within it the power after seven months. greatly and rapidly to extend itself without you will find now in the best residence effort, without care, without investment on the region of philadelphia a magnificent marble part of its owners; for the more suburbs, the palace, as grand, as imposing, as costly as more people were to be carried. second, it any in new york or elsewhere, and surely was actually possible by debauching public one of the most beautiful of private residences. servants, corrupting politics, buying elections. it contains a really wonderful art-gallery and and forming alliances with the bosses, to many rare books and tapestries; it is one of secure free and unrestricted possession of the show-places of the city; the natives point the public highways not for one year nor for it out with pride and strangers regard it with two, but for a hundred years or a thousand. just admiration. a child might see that these priceless privileges could be used toward fortune building, and in widener once a butcher a short time a child might also see that far beyond even these bright prospects the true that house was born of the defalcation profits of the business lay in manipulation of marcer and the plight of charles t. into this fertile and lovely field came now yerkes. it belongs to p. a. b. widener. the men that long reaped its golden harvests. about forty years ago he was a young butcher to speak disparagingly of such success is a in spring garden market, in no way dis- form of lèse-majesté. fain would i say that tinguished from two hundred other butchers the records of these achievements reveal re- there except that he took an interest in parti- markable qualities and amazing mental at- zan politics, belonged to the political organi- tributes, although it remains quite clear that zation of his vard, and worked at the polls on up to the very gates of their good fortune election day. as a reward for these services these men were driven and thrust by fate. to his party found use for him as a lieutenant the first of them, indeed. charles t. yerkes, and lobbyist at harrisburg, and when marcer belonged a certain combination of hardihood, was removed from the city treasury the audacity, dexterity, and persistence that was young butcher got the vacant post. in those rather out of the common. but he had days the city treasurer of philadelphia was served some months as a convict in a penn- allowed certain fat perquisites. hence it sylvania prison, and that experience had was a good thing, and when young widener doubtless, and in more than one way, re- relinquished the office, he was legitimately the sulted to his advantage. it gave him time richer. for reflection, taught him caution, and in- the butcher was a friend of yerkes, who dicated how close with safety a man might had also mixed much in the odorous pool steer to the reefs of the penal code. in a of philadelphia politics. yerkes, being re- measure his trouble had been brought about leased from the penitentiary, looked about by the chicago fire. for something to do and stumbled upon the street-railroad business. a piece of scrap- yerkes goes to jail iron known as the seventeenth and nine- teenth street line was offered to him on credit yerkes was a daring young broker, reputed at four cents on the dollar. he took it. the to have means, and noted for a brilliant suc- exposition came on and traffic greatly in- cess in juggling state bonds with the old bank- creased. mr. yerkes needed money. it ing-house of drexel & company. with his may be supposed that he badly needed money. prestige and magnetism he induced joseph money was hard to come by. mr. yerkes tried f. marcer, who was then city treasurer a very doubtful experiment. on the rattle- of philadelphia, to invest money in chi- track contrivance he had bought he issued cago. some of the money, much of it in a small amount of bonds—about $ , fact, was the city's. when the fire came it worth, it is said. very likely to his great cleaned out yerkes and marcer and in that amazement, he found that these bonds could crash the theft of the city funds was dis- be floated. with the proceeds he secured covered. yerkes was indicted as accessory another link of railroad and issued more to the embezzlement, convicted, and sen- bonds on that, and thus the whole system tenced to two years and four months' was started on its truly wonderful career everybody's magazine through the choicest realms of finance. mr. - required: the confiding public attended to all yerkes had hit upon the great truths that in that. normal times somebody can be found to buy the philadelphia gentlemen were not slow a bond on anything, and that with the power to understand the good thing thus opened to issue bonds the gathering of great fortunes before them. it was a golden snowball roll- is simpler than the gathering of ripe apples, ing down-hill and becoming an avalanche for they fall from the tree into your very hand of money. each railroad acquired by them and while you sleep. in turn acquired another, without trouble, when mr. yerkes had made the discovery without labor, without effort, and without that he could issue bonds on his scrap-iron, cost. the owners of the device were made sell them, and with the proceeds buy more rich while they slept; the entire population scrap-iron, he added to his original purchases, and all the future labored for them while repeated the process, and in the end at a they toiled not nor span. for every bond goodly profit sold the whole collection, scraps, and every coupon on every bond issued to buy bonds, and all. at that time, mr. widener, these railroads the public must needs furnish being no longer city treasurer, was also the money, now and for many years to come. looking for something to do. he learned but the gentlemen for whom the public from his old friend yerkes how good the bought the road—they furnished nothing but street-railroad business looked, and with a their agreeable presence and their happy few friends, william l. elkins, william h. homes. kemble, and others, he bought some scrap- for all this, of course, they had abundant iron on his own account. in a short time warrant and shining examples in american they discovered that all mr. yerkes had financial history. jay gould had shown the said about this business was true, and that precious potency of the agreeable formula still more was true, because upon them also when he watered the stock of erie from loomed the dazzling prospects of wealth that $ , , to $ , , and made him- lay behind manipulation. self rich. since his achievement practically every great railroad corporation had followed the simple rule for getting rich in his august footsteps until to overcapitalize an average railroad had become a far more from this you are not to assume that these important source of wealth than to operate it. gentlemen nor any of them originated the mr. yerkes and his friends imitated mr. great american idea in finance. that were gould and then bettered their instruction. to wrong history, to wrong the dead and gould loaded two or three railroads with them. they merely applied to their pur- water and then departed with the bagged chases the principles of that idea after re- proceeds. they made the loading of one peated exploits by others had brought it to railroad the means to secure a second and the the precision of a familiar scientific formula. loading of the second a means to secure a it might be called the agreeable formula third, and so on until everything in sight was for making something from nothing, or it loaded—and theirs. might be called the formula for getting rich by levying tribute on the public. the essence of it is to gather money by com- quay scents loot pelling millions of people in this and suc how easily this good thing could be worked ceeding generations to pay exorbitant prices was demonstrated by yerkes's seventeenth for poor services. a simpler device never and nineteenth street lines. that grimy entered the human mind; of ingenuity or genius, matthew stanley quay, who had in- novelty it had just so much as there is in the fallible scent for graft, business and other, pistol of a highwayman. to get control of succeeded mr. yerkes in the seventeenth and one piece of street-railroad, good or bad; to nineteenth street lines, which he helped to issue upon it all the bonds and stocks it “reorganize" into the continental street would bear; to sell these, regardless of their railway company. the kemble-widener- real value, to the confiding public; to use the elkins people “reorganized” their seventh proceeds to buy another piece of railroad; and ninth street lines into the union passen- to repeat the process as long as there was ger railway company, with which, by the anything worth buying - what could be handy processes already referred to, they simpler? no risk was incurred, no capital amalgamated one small line after another, un- where did you get it, gentlemen ? in the community had share in this colossal structure of fraud; the respectable stock com- pany went into partnership with the brothel for the maintenance of existing conditions. the money that stole elections and stuffed ballot-boxes and hired criminals to beat cit- izens, all to keep this gang in power, was supplied by the public utility corporations. for years they systematically made of the city government in philadelphia something before which all patriotic americans bowed themselves in humiliation and unutterable shame; they did it, these corporations with special privileges. til their system had swollen to a portly size. in they had accumulated enough wa- tered stock to lease mr. quay's company. in they took in the tenth and eleventh and twelfth and sixteenth street lines. then they leased the chestnut street and market street roads, among the most im- portant in the city. the next year they re- organized again, this time into the philadel- phia traction company; capital, $ , ,- ; nominal and ostensible cash investment, $ , , ; actual cash investment, next to nothing. good business. there were now in phil- adelphia three street-railroad companies, and no more, the many little lines having one by one been swallowed by these anacondas. the philadelphia traction company next pro- ceeded to swallow the other two and thus be- came possessed of the entire street-car service of the city, miles of railroad. this, of course, necessitated another “reorganiza- tion” and equally, of course, another flood of water. “about this time look out for high tides,” says the financial almanac whenever there is a "reorganization” project about; “reorganizations” being invariably floated into success upon huge issues of fictitious securities. the “reorganized” and freshly watered concern took the name of the union traction company. welding the shackles philadelphia's grisly graft it has meant much more to philadelphia than a mere enterprise to transport passen- gers or a mere enterprise to manipulate stocks and bonds. gradually the public utility corporations had come to own the city gov- ernment of philadelphia just as absolutely as they ever owned any acres of land or team of mules. they elected city officers and de- termined city policies. they maintained the most perfect system for political corruption that has ever been known among our cities. the rest of the country has heard much about the “philadelphia ring.” the very life and substance of the ring were the pub- lic utility interests and the foremost of these interests was the traction corporation. under the system the ring established there were cast every year in philadelphia from , to , fraudulent votes, and it was by means of these votes that the public util- ity interests retained their grasp upon the city government and upon the privileges that made them rich. every criminal enterprise for years dishonest aldermen, crooked public officers, election thieves, repeaters, floaters, thugs, keepers of criminal resorts, the men that falsified returns, were actively leagued with them. every protected dive in philadelphia, every illegal drinking-place, every house of ill-fame, paid a regular trib- ute to the ring, not in money but in the votes that kept the grip of the ring upon the city. each of these lawless resorts was recorded in a list with figures representing the number of illegal votes it must furnish. so long as it furnished these votes it could continue to break the law; if it failed to furnish these votes it must cease to do busi- ness. from these illegal votes and others was developed an autocracy practically as perfect as a satrap's. no man could ordi- narily be elected to anything except by the will of the men that wielded this power. in all these operations the traction com- pany was most conspicuous. it was to mis- government in philadelphia what the penn- sylvania railroad was to misgovernment at harrisburg. if its sole business had been to make the american city a symbol around the world for all things detestable and dis- honest it could hardly have done more to achieve that result. it has in its sinister history some of the most astounding legisla- tion ever secured under any form of free government anywhere, and a generation of flawless administration could not efface the stains it has fixed upon the city from whose people it has drawn its countless millions of profits. such was the story of this development in philadelphia, where, because of the vast ter- ritorial expansion of the community, street- railroads were become an absolute necessity everybody's magazine of its chorus, which contained these sig- nificant lines: hail! hail! the gang's all here! what the hell do we care! what the hell do we care! and where the formula worked without a hitch. some economies resulted from the consolidations effected and occasionally some slight improvements, but otherwise the public got nothing from the transaction except the pleasure of building the fortunes of the syndicate and the entrancing prospect of many bonds and coupons to be paid in the future. after a few years of these conditions only two defects therein marred the perfect joy of the syndicate gentlemen. one was that the motive power, which was still horse, cost sixty-five per cent. of the receipts, and the other was that no one could tell how long the people might submit to having their highways used for the private profit of the gentlemen. as to motive power, the over- head trolley was installed against the in- dignant protests of the outraged citizens), and that not only effected a saving of forty per cent. in expenses, but built vast new suburbs to the increasing of business and the swelling of dividends. and as to the highways, it presently appeared that anxiety on that score was wholly gratuitous. later, as might be expected, the dummy company sold to the union traction com- pany the amazing franchise thus secured and the anxiety of the company was relieved; there was no longer any question about pos- sessing the streets; it could go on to reap forever the golden harvest; it had won a great victory. b ut how, you of the ungifted and unable, was this momentous triumph won? the public utilities alliance had taken the money wrung from the people by one set of excessive privileges to obtain by corruption from the people's representatives far greater and more profitable privileges. that was all. a similar situation confronting the same interests some years later had slightly different results, a fact that casts some doubt upon the perpetuity of the formula for fortune-build- ing. among the vast concerns of the gentle- men that operated the traction trust was gas - the united gas improvement company being one of their business aliases. about ten years ago, under pretense of supplying a new and better kind of gas, the united gas improvement company secured a lease for ten years of the city gas-works. instead of furnishing better gas or cheaper, the com- pany furnished poorer gas and dearer. by the terms of the lease a renewal for another period was possible after the expiration of eight years. the question of renewal came up in and the allied interests planned in their usual way to add to their fortunes by securing a lease monstrously to their benefit. graft by special train. the public utilities combination had now far progressed in its arts of municipal cor- ruption; it could, in fact, do as it pleased with the city government. it had elected the mayor and most of the aldermen; had chosen them for reasons of its own, and knew upon whom it could depend. a dummy company was formed. it applied for a franchise covering all the remaining streets, avenues, and alleys in the city. mr. john wanamaker made an offer to operate the public's traction utility for the public good. the combination's mayor, with ostentatious r, with ostentatious contempt, flung the offer upon the floor. the legislature at harrisburg met one night in extra session. the enabling act necessary to the granting of the franchise was rushed through both houses, which sat up until three o'clock in the morning to pass it. a special train carried it to philadelphia. there the city council was convened in a special meet ing. as soon as the enabling act was received, the necessary ordinance was introduced, and passed, making to the dummy company a free gift in perpetuity of the public high- ways of philadelphia. this done the al- dermen lolled back in their chairs and sang ribald songs. one of them long lin- gered in the memory of philadelphia because the value of a hangman's noose but the public discontent for once broke over the barriers of custom and fraudulent elections and for once the allied interests were defeated; the force of public indigna- tion was plainly too great to be withstood. when mobs gathered in the placid phila- delphia streets and with ropes in hand prom- ised to hang the aldermen there was evidently no time for gangsters considerate of their own welfare to be making further raids on the people's purses. so the precious scheme lapsed. in the height of the trouble the where did you get it, gentlemen ? residences of prominent men that supported council to meet in extra session that a mon- the gang were surrounded by threatening strous swindle might be enacted upon a mobs and for several days the inmates deemed community? it advisable not to appear on the streets, a fact that indicates the extent to which people chapter iv were aroused. the formula for wealth as it was philadelphia; it is the way it has gone else worked in chicago and new york where. rotten business and rotten politics —the two are invariably mingled in these all this is to forereach a little upon my triumphs. without the corrupting of poli- narrative. long before the widener-elkins tics, the sudden fortune builders could never combination had secured a grip on philadel- have obtained their huge privileges; without their huge privileges, they could never have possessed their gleaming palaces. so, flat- dweller with $ , of total possessions, here is one way in which the difference in brain-cells manifests it- self. rather poor, it seems -does it not?—and cheap and stained and tawdry look the gleaming palaces so gained, when you think of stuffed ballot-boxes, de- bauched public officers, and that soiled and wretched alliance with the dive-keeper and the broth- el. at least a man can live in a flat amid his $ , of possessions and die struggling hard with rent- bills and butchers' bills and yet know that he has done nothing to debase public virtue nor to lower his country in the eyes of the world. and there must be some- thing in that; when you stop to think of it, there must indeed be a great deal in possessing that con- sciousness. but power! those miles upon miles of great sky- reaching structures massed photograph by gutekunst, philadelphia, solidly in the business re- william l. elkins. gion—we did well to take them for the emblems of huge, indomitable, phia, mr. yerkes, having enlarged in dakota irresistible, abnormal power. and here are and minnesota his experience with a gullible some of its manifestations, strange and sub- public, bent all his gained knowledge upon the tle. for what ordinary force could impel a street-car system of chicago, which had never legislature to sit up all night and a city been exploited. he came to chicago with side view of the elkins mansion in philadephia. $ , , said to have been borrowed money, it, got more stock, secured control, started and asked for an option on some scrap-iron the printing-presses on a bright new line of street-railroad on the north side. he found stocks and bonds, and possessed himself of that someone else the whole institu- had an option that tion; gaining more- would expire on a over a surplus from certain day. which he repaid the “at what time on $ , he had bor- that day?" asked rowed for the option. mr. yerkes. he now proceeded “at noon,” said to apply his phila- the cashier of the delphia experience, bank that was fi- issued more securi- nancing the deal. ties, bought more mr. yerkes went roads, milked them away and on the with construction specified morning company and other returned with his devices, and eventu- $ , certified ally, piling onecorpo- check in his hand. ration upon another he sat facing the and one "reorgani- clock, which he zation” upon an- watched patiently. other, emerged, with the instant the the union traction hands reached company of chicago twelve o'clock, he embracing all the leaped at the cashier lines of the city ex- with his check. the cept those upon the option gave him the south side. as a required wedge into concrete illustration the concern. in a of his methods and short time he had hy- their results, i may pothecated the stock, say that the union borrowed money on front extrance to the widener mansion. traction company where did you get it, gentlemen ? was capitalized at $ , , and in the height of its prosperity it was estimated by an expert examiner to be worth as a going concern $ , , . except for legisla- once observed, “is to buy old junk, fix it up a little, and unload it upon other fellows." i. may remark in passing that there was very little fixing up in the case of the union trac- p. a. b. widener. tion, aldermen, and newspapers, it cost mr. yerkes nothing. as a system of transpor- tation it was the most picturesque lot of junk ever seen in this world and furnished un- doubtedly the worst service. junk is the right word for it; mr, yerkes said so himself. “the secret of success in my business," he tion of chicago. why there should have been any more, indeed, is not apparent since the good people of chicago not only endured mr. yerkes and his methods, but in fifteen years supplied him with $ , , of net profits on an investment of nothing; with the which comfortable assets he presently left everybody's magazine them and secured control of the underground public indignation followed its appearance system of london. and its sponsors in the legislature lost heart. but he had stayed long enough to make the bill was quietly allowed to die in com- an enduring place for himself in chicago's mittee. mr. yerkes waited a little and pres- history. only one cloud there obscured his ently the equally notorious allen bill made success. the junk that he manipulated was its appearance, authorizing the city council operated under franchises. that is to say of chicago to grant yerkes a fifty-year fran- that when the people of chicago presented chise if it should see fit to do so. this bill their streets to the street-railroad companies, was passed-in haste. as there was in the a date was set at which the right of possession state of illinois not one human being except should expire. for most of the roads the mr. yerkes that desired to have it enacted date was july , , and its approach and as probably there were very few that did worried mr. yerkes. to his ability, energy, not fully understand the nature of the reasons and foresight the expiration of the franchises for its passing, the extent of the resulting seemed of very great importance. we know scandal is easily understood. now that in this his ability, energy, and fore- the battle was now transferred to the sight deceived him, for it was of very small city council. mr. yerkes had been long importance. in new york we have seen and skilfully at work and had secured a clear companies continue to occupy the streets majority of the aldermen. he looked, there- many years after fore, toward an easy their franchises have victory. but the expired and have popular wrath was even seen the ex- aroused. the thing pired franchises was too palpable, counted as assets of the corruption was great value. in chi- too gross. indigna- cago we have seen tion meetings began the expiration of to be held. the franchises become a newspapers were source of some an- flooded with pro- noyance to the pub- tests. spontaneous- lic but of no concern ly men gathered and to the companies. declared that so hence, mr. yerkes monstrous a bribery must certainly have was not to be en- been in error though dured. the atmos- he never suspected phere seemed the fact. stormy. on the the law of the night the vote was state forbade the to be taken an im- granting of any fran- mense crowd gath- chise for a longer ered about the city term than twenty hall. it was ob- years. mr. yerkes served that many went to the legisla- men were armed ture, which he well and some bore ropes knew how to manip- and clubs. the con- ulate, and secured stituents of one al- the introduction of derman marched a bill repealing the down - town with a twenty-year limit band at their head, and granting him a sent into the cham- franchise for fifty ber, dragged out years. this was the their representative celebrated hum- and told him in the phrey bill. a tre- plainest of words mendous outburst of a corner in the widener mansion. what would happen from town and country, where did you get it, gentlemen ? to him. there were cries of “lynch them!” and “shoot them!” even sober-minded men advocated violence if the ordinance should go goodly chicago harvest were associated his old philadelphia friends, p. a. b. widener and w. l. elkins. the only thing better by courtesy of the new york american and journal. the art gallery in the yerkes residence, new york. through. the gallery of the council chamber was packed to its limits with an angry and threatening crowd. the evening newspapers issued hourly extras; the entire city was aroused. the aldermen looked at the sinis- ter faces about them and heard the shouts of the crowd in the street and their courage failed them. men that had doubtless bar- gained away their votes refused to stay bought and the ordinance was defeated. it had cost mr. yerkes, at springfield and in chicago, close upon $ , , , and for his expenditure he had nothing to show ex- cept some indisputable evidences of public hatred. the lesson must have sunk deep. he never repeated the attempt to have his franchises extended, and when he left chi- cago the question of their future was still unsolved. those that care to consider how surely we progress in such matters may be interested to know that the thing mr. yerkes desired and failed to get has now, in the main, been secured by mr. morgan and mr. ryan, and without any riots, disturbances, or indications of public wrath. all of which shows that there is more than one way to pull off a rotten franchise. with mr. yerkes in the fatness of the than to own the traction system of one city is to own the traction system of many cities. so when mr. yerkes let the others into the good thing of chicago, all fared together exceedingly well. mr. yerkes was faithful to his friends and, in certain ways, generous with the vast sums of money that rolled in upon him. he had a picturesque way of dealing with aldermen, and then another picturesque way of talking about his deals that rather endeared him to those that fancy cynic humor. one of his compressed com- ments on a certain chicago editor has passed into local history. so have other remarks of his. he cannot be said to have origi- nated the plan of running too few cars and overcrowding these, but he certainly gave that plan most extensive usage. under this system the cars in chicago customarily carried three times their normal capacity and the suffering inflicted as a result was great and general. the people complained at last of this method of fortune-building, and oc- casionally some one would arise to remark that as the streets mr. yerkes was using for the purposes of his aggrandizement were really the people's, and as mr. yerkes was there by sufferance, it would be decent for everybody's magazine him to provide tolerable accommodations to a public from which he was drawing so many millions. some one actually suggested that mr. yerkes should run more cars. conversation, and perhaps for that reason condoned in his career things not usually condoned nor discussed in a mixed company. but of mr. widener and mr. elkins no one a view of the sunken garden in the widener estate. “tush!” said mr. yerkes when these ever knew much. they kept aloof from the matters were called to his attention. “it is details and were known chiefly as recipients the strap-hangers that pay the dividends.” of the profits. both were very quiet men. mr. dividends, however, were a small part of elkins was retiring and eminently respectable. his profits, the most of which were made in he, too, built a marble palace, which rivaled issuing and selling vast masses of fictitious mr. widener's; he, too, installed an art-gal- securities and from construction companies lery. about the personal traits of charles that were supposed to do work for the traction t. yerkes linger a thousand reminiscences; company and really served as covers for the about his companions none. so far as any issue of more water. two of these con- mark upon their generation is concerned struction enterprises organized by mr. yerkes they might exactly as well have been of the paid something like per cent., which was unelect, of the unable and the ungifted that cheerfully added to the load of obligations have $ , of average wealth and fight the on the traction company. as mr. yerkes daily battle in the little flat. presently withdrew himself from the traction t hese were the men that now turned their company, the extent of these obligations was attention to the street-railroad situation in a matter of no concern to him. i may add new york, where, at the suggestion of mr. that the people of chicago have found them whitney, they made their way through the of much more serious import. basement door. mr. yerkes was undeniably a huge element it was an inviting place to enter, and no for evil in the city, but some men liked him. one may deny that fortune was grossly and they liked his candid, genial, and breezy blindly with them. new york had not yet where did you get it, gentlemen ? awakened to traction potentialities. to the the sage counsel and able suggestions of mr. typical new yorker a street-car had always elihu root, then confidential attorney to mr. meant a funny little thing that ran occasion- whitney and mr. ryan, now secretary of ally in a back street where there were no state. under the guidance of this good man, stages. he was just beginning to understand the other members of the syndicate could the extent of that error. and before he fully doubtless feel at all times, and reasonably, realized what was going on about him, the that however unusual the course pursued and fortunate gentlemen of the syndicate had however it might be criticized by a harsh and made themselves very much at home on the unsympathetic world, it was at least not premises, where they fared quite well, thank pointed toward the door of the penitentiary. you. by the application of the agreeable anything that mr. root advised must be formula, they succeeded in adding to their right. mr. root was accustomed to arise in frugal store one railroad after another that cooper union and other public places and had cost them nothing, until in a few years with brow of thunder and voice of righteous they were in a commanding position in the wrath, flay all forms of tergiversation and metropolis and exercising a very great and particularly those practised by tammany very subtle influence upon politics and legisla- hall. it must have been felt that ere such a tion. i have yet to find any instance where man would countenance the least compromise these delicate financial operations have gone with evil the heavens themselves would fall. forward without affecting politics. tammany hence with bland confidence the syndicate helped the syndicate and the syndicate helped gentlemen took mr. root's advice, harvested tammany, and the fruits of this close alliance their profits, and justly esteemed their coun- were sometimes historic and nearly always a selor. mr. whitney said of him that he was direct injury to the public welfare. as to the historic part, i may cite that it was solely by means of this partnership that mr. whitney in drove tam- many hall to the loyal support of grover cleveland- a fact that mr. cleveland seems at times prone to for- get; and as to the other, the syndicate secured an intermi- nable list of great privileges and im- munities to which it had no right, but by which it profited im- mensely. certain leaders of tam- many hall became largely possessed of syndicate stocks, and it is not yet forgotten that on a certain occasion a large block of them was one of the most valuable men alive. "other found among the effects of a member of a lawyers tell me what i can't do,” said mr. certain leader's family. whitney. “what i like about root is that from the beginning of its marvelous career he tells me what i can do and how to do it.” in new york, the syndicate was blessed with prosperity beamed upon the syndicate as by courtesy of the verw york american and journal. the grand stairway in the yerkes residence. everybody's magazine one property after another fell into its lap, at this juncture, about , the whitney without effort, without risk, without ex- syndicate came in. it organized a new penditure. at the end of its first ten years company called the fulton street railroad, in new york city, the world, exhaustively and issued $ , of five per cent. bonds reviewing the history of these achievements, and $ , of stock, having incidentally declared that there had been added to the neither property, business, nor rights of any syndicate's traction possessions in the city kind upon which to base these securities. $ , , of water, all of which repre- the syndicate then went to dady & o'rourke sented clear profits to the happy gentlemen, and offered $ , of the new bonds in ex- quite aside from dividends, interest, deals, change for the franchise and property of the and all other sources of income. old company. this offer was accepted. mr. as to these other sources of income and whitney then used his great influence with some cognate incidents, these chronicles will tammany hall and secured the reduction have to say much hereafter, but for the present of the tax from thirty-eight per cent. to one- i may as well give two illustrations that, eighth of one per cent. of the gross receipts. though small, may seem to indicate to per- this done, the syndicate sold at par to the sons in the , , and to persons in the metropolitan traction company the $ , , , just why they are classed among the of stock and had the metropolitan traction ungifted. company guarantee the $ , of bonds. . fulton street is about a mile long, con (remember, please, that the metropolitan nects at one end with an east river ferry to traction company was the name of the brooklyn, and at the other end abuts close corporation that the syndicate gentlemen upon a north river ferry to jersey city. controlled in its operation of most of the it is an important line of cross-town travel. street-railroads of new york.) in the late eighties the north & east river from this transaction the net profits (with- railroad company was organized to build out the investment of a dollar) were $ , and operate a street-car line in fulton street. made in a few weeks. the time was to come one of the results of the take sharp scandal when it would look paltry compared with had been a law, called the cantor act, by other gains of these fortunate gentlemen. which the public's franchises for public . from bond issues made according to utilities were to be sold to the highest bidder the formula upon only one of the properties instead of being given away by bribed alder- absorbed by the syndicate, the houston, west men. when the fulton street franchise was street & pavonia ferry railroad, there was offered under this law, competitive bidding derived a net profit of $ , , . the ran the price up to thirty-eight per cent. of ability, energy, and foresight involved in this the gross receipts to be paid to the city. transaction consisted in picking up the money. the company was the first in new york to the service to society lay in loading an adopt the underground electric system. it already heavily burdened enterprise with failed, and the franchise passed into the hands more obligations that the public must pay. of a contracting firm, dady & o'rourke, of certainly, in these instances, the gifts of the brooklyn, which completed the road and gifted hardly shine forth as anything phe- operated it, but with horses, not electricity. nomenal; the brain-cells involved may be it was unprofitable chiefly because of the thought to be very much like other brain- heavy tax paid to the city. cells of which we have knowledge. “where did you get it, gentlemen ?” will be continued in the october number. the adventurer by lloyd osbourne joint author with robert louis stevenson of " the wrecker” and “ the ebb-tide"; author of " motormaniacs," "baby bullet," etc. chapter xix (continued) one afternoon there was a heavy squall of rain. kirk took advantage of it to fill his v irk grew moody and silent, and kept water-tanks, which were already seriously much to himself. he dreaded the mo- depleted. he had put all hands on a rigid ments that brought them together, and was half allowance, and this alleviation was most always the first to slip away. he had no welcome. incidentally the squall drowned armor like vera's—no means of hiding his out the camp, blew down several tents- dejection and he shrank from those enforced including his own-and incited every one meetings that brought home to him the reali- to laundry work. there was a scramble zation of all that he had lost. the days, once for soap, for buckets, pans, basins. big so short, seemed now never to end; and he fellows, stripped to the waist, floundered in would pace for hours before his tent, up and soap-suds, rubbing and scrubbing under the down, up and down, in a blank preoccupa- downpour with the glee of children. it was tion. time, for that matter, hung heavily the first washday in camp weaver—and the on every one. no one was permitted to pass fact that it might possibly be the last, as well, the camp lines, and in that illimitable solitude drove every one into the open with his arms they actually suffered from confinement. full. this stern rule was rendered necessary by as soon as the sun came out, kirk had the the frequent sight of indians. once a party winches going on board the fortuna, and of twenty galloped boldly round the camp, all her sails hoisted. he was afraid of their and were driven off only by a shot fired over mildewing on the booms and yards, and their heads. the lookout constantly reported wished to dry them thoroughly. every sailor the presence of the enemy on the horizon, and knows what havoc damp plays on board a more than once all hands were called to arms. ship, especially in the tropics, and how dearly at night, the great searchlight moved restless- neglect is paid for. it cost kirk a pang to ly in its orbit, flooding in turn, with a startling hear the slatting of the booms, and to watch brilliancy, every segment of a vast circle. no the uneasy sails, straining as though the old precaution was omitted to guard the camp, ship herself were fretting to be off. and at regular intervals kirk made the rounds he sighed, and went back to his tent where to see that every sentinel was in his place. it lay collapsed in a good-sized puddle. he the irksomeness of it all was intensified got it up, pinned his soaking and bedraggled by the lack of improvement in weaver. his wardrobe to the guy-ropes, and wondered if condition remained unchanged. while the the world would ever be dry again. the air others grew daily better, he hovered between of comfortlessness everywhere; the yellow life and death, and gave no promise of ever mud; the cigar that would not keep alight; releasing them from their predicament. the his slopping feet; the disagreeable sensation doctor said he might linger on for months, of water trickling down his back—all were and only shook his head when questioned as depressing to the spirit and hard to bear to his ultimate recovery. the uncertainty with equanimity. he returned to the for- told on every one's spirits. it seemed as tuna, and, swinging himself up the spidery though they were stuck there forever. the spokes of her front wheels, ensconced him- nervous tension showed itself in many dis- self on the truck. this was a favorite place agreeable ways-growling, faultfinding, quar- of his. for an undisturbed nap it had no rels, and fights. kirk's authority was taxed equal. it was cool, silent, and peaceful, to the utmost, and he found it increasingly though a trifle hard to lie on. on this occa- difficult to preserve order. sion it had the added advantage of being dry. everybody's magazine he took off his shoes and socks, unloosened undeviating course to the westward, her his belt, and bundling up his coat into a booms guyed out, her towering sails singing pillow, fell into a doze. the camp, with all as she plunged and rocked before the wind. its cares and discords, melted away. basalt at first kirk was convinced that the ves- islands rose out of the mist, rimmed with sel would soon heave to. the miscreants palms, and set in a pellucid sea. his boat could impose their own terms; and he never was grating on the shingle, and the natives doubted that there would be a parley—and were coming down to welcome him. what a surrender. though consumed with anger, a pity they had brought all those pigs. he he had to admit that jackson had the whip- appreciated the compliment, of course—but hand of them, and he tried to bring himself what should he do with them? dozens of to the mortification of submission. it would pigs, borne on poles, and screaming as only be a hard pill to swallow; but what else was pigs can. then the boat began to rock. there for them? the possession of the ship, the fools were letting it slip back into the the guns, stores, and water precluded any swell. if they weren't careful, the next com argument. the only alternative was to per- ber would roll them over! ish miserably like castaway sailors on a raft. he opened his eyes. pigs, no—but men, but there was no sign of shortening sail. distractedly shouting and yelling. the wheels the camp had faded from view, and still the were moving! through the rapidly revolv- ship was kept at a terrific pace. the situa- ing spokes he saw wicks with a rifle at his tion began to assume a more ominous and shoulder, deliberately aiming at the ship. sinister aspect. was there to be no parley, with this one exception the whole camp then? were these fellows above cold- seemed to be in pursuit, as after a runaway, bloodedly deserting the party behind? it racing along a couple of hundred yards be- looked more and more like it. what could hind the ship in breathless and panic-stricken he do? he had his six-shooter, but much confusion. for a moment kirk thought the good it was to him, crouched there on the fortuna had broken away of herself; but he journals, and holding on like a bronco-buster. was quickly undeceived by the explosion of should he drop, and take his chances of re- wicks's rifle -- the threatening gestures of joining the camp? risky, and worse still- the pursuers—the cries, the execrations - profitless. should he wait till night, and more than all by the hoarse rattle of the then, in some way, disable the vessel? ex- steering-chains as he watched them tauten cellent-if he but knew how. but how? he and slacken in obedience to the helm above. racked his head for ways. almost any harm it was no unlucky accident! a directing within his power to inflict could be readily brain was guiding the mighty fabric, and repaired. it would take a stick of dynamite he could feel her speed quicken as the sheets to do anything irreparable—and he had no were paid out and she was put dead before dynamite. he knew there was some in the the wind. doubled up on the journals, hold, but what likelihood had he of finding and holding on with a convulsive clutch, it? none. kirk slowly began to recover possession of there loomed up before him a much less his faculties. ah, he understood now those glorious rôle: to come out boldly at sundown, sly glances—beale's unexpected willingness and appeal to the men's humanity. none and good humor in getting the gaskets off- of them was really bad. at least, he would the readiness of others of the malcontents to have said so the day before. beale himself bear a hand for the common good while bet- was not at all one's idea of an absolutely ter men held back, intent on rescuing their heartless brute. he was blatant and vindic- sodden belongings. it was as plain as day- tive, and swollen with ideas of his own im- light now. portance—but it was impossible to believe he jackson and beale had run away with the would not listen to reason. no sane man ship! would care to blacken his soul with so terrible a crime. as he studied the matter from this chapter xx side, kirk realized how grossly he had ex- aggerated his fear; and the more he was re- the pursuing figures dwindled. the lieved the angrier he grew at such triumphant camp shrank to a few melancholy bits of treachery. it was on the cards that the white silhouetted far behind on the edge mutineers would signal the position of the of the sky. the fortuna was held on an ship, to take the heart out of the majority the adventurer by forcing them to a frightful tramp across bare, sinewy arms, tattooed in a dozen places, many miles of prairie. kirk's blood boiled sprawled over his wheel as though, as usual, at the thought of it. not if he could help it, he was letting the others do all the work. by george. but the more he considered it, forward on the bridge kirk could make out the more likely it seemed that these fellows some figures, one of them a woman. from would perpetrate just such deliberate villainy. the crow's-nest protruded two tiny heads. the poor wretches, ready to drop with ex- the galley was shut; the long deck apparently haustion and thirst, would be gathered in by empty; and the fight seemed to resolve itself twos and threes, without the strength even to into one against four. if he could manage to reproach the scoundrels who had inflicted this land the first shot there was a good chance suffering upon them. the picture of vera that he might win. on an all-night march roused kirk to des. he scrambled over the rail, and even as peration. he did so beale saw him, and with a yell he was a powerful man, in the prime of whipped out a revolver from his hip pocket, vigor and health. better still, he had a and fired at him pointblank. kirk was so revolver with six forty-four cartridges. surely unprepared for the fellow's quickness that he could do something-surely—surely! such three shots whistled by his head before he devilry ought not to be permitted to go un could reply. he had never been in a pistol punished. by heavens, he would find a way. duel before, and to make a target of a man he had to. he must. was a paralyzing sensation. his weapon he crept out on one of the axles, warily, seemed to go off of itself. the explosion holding tight, watching the play of those was terrific. there was a flash of flame, and terrible spiral springs through which he had agonized faces were seen through the smoke. to pass. they would crush together as the it went off again and again-bang, bang, vessel dipped, and then rebound again with bang, like a cannon. where was beale? disconcerting suddenness. to be caught here was that he lying on the deck-face down- was to have one's body ground to pulp-it kicking? shamming, maybe. well, here was was a mouth, with snapping fangs of steel, one more. the bead of the pistol danced holding one at bay with unutterable horrors. over the huddled mass. the flame leaped the motion of the vessel was so irregular and again. was there another cartridge left? violent that it was impossible to forecast it. he couldn't remember. oh, he wished to kirk nerved himself for the ordeal, and, wait- heaven he could remember! why weren't ing for the moment of rebound, dragged him the other fellows shooting? their hands self through with feverish agility. the fangs were all on the spokes. they did not dare closed behind him with a discordant grating to let go — they couldn't - deprived of and creaking that made him shudder. but beale's help; the back-lash was almost un- he was safe. his head swam; he saw a dizzy masterable, and they were repeatedly lifted world through the whir of wheels; the flesh off their feet. the vessel was yawing, and seemed to cringe on his bones—but he was the wind was spilling out of the mainsail. safe. kirk had a vision of haines on the weather- he crawled out till he could see the end of the bridge, leveling a rifle at him. it channels above him, and the black, impend- was now or never. he would be killed like a ing rigging, where it was made fast below. dog. it was all he could do to speak, and he undid his holster, placed his pistol in his then his voice sounded strange and cracked. trousers pocket, and, with the grim resolve “down with your helm!” to shoot first, pulled himself up the shrouds. the men gaped at him in consternation. here he rested to get his breath, to toss away he flourished his revolver at their quailing his cap, to draw out his revolver and cock it. faces. haines began pumping viciously then with stealthy deliberation, foot by foot, with the rifle. bullets were spattering every- he mounted till his eyes were on a level with where. the deck. “down with your helm. down! down!” at the steering-wheels were four men the spokes were shot to starboard. the clinging to the spokes, and swaying with main-boom jibed, snapping the guy-ropes like every movement of the ship—beale, harding, packthread. kirk lowered his revolver, and, gibbs, and mackay—so near that he could running aft, bent his own strength to putting see the whites of their eyes. the big aus- the helm hard down-hard down as far as it tralian had a pipe in his mouth; and his would go. the fortuna turned in her own everybody's magazine length, and, with a crash like the end of the was a goner. nesbit was lying stone dead world, rolled completely over. · beside him.” “who's unaccounted for?” asked kirk. when kirk came to himself he was lying his tone took on its usual authority. he was in a tangle of gear. he felt sleepy and cold, reminded that it was time to assert it. and the full extent of the disaster dawned on “beale." him only by degrees. there was a dull, “you can pass him," said kirk grimly. grinding pain in his right shoulder, and the "he's lying under the main-boom, and it will arm itself was numb. he put his left hand take a jack to get his body out. who else?” to his head, and drew it away all wet with “matthews and harding.” blood. he regarded it stupidly, and then in “gibbs, you try to break your way into the the same bewildered way pinched his legs to doctor's cabin and find us a little whisky, and see whether they had suffered. no, his legs anything else you can see in the way of medi- seemed all right. he twiddled his toes, and cines and bandages. smash open the lockers was gratified to find that they could move. with one of the fire axes. and get some he felt himself all over, prepared for horri- water if you can find any—there'll still be fying surprises; and, finding none, returned some in the butts." to the consideration of his arm. it seemed “aye, aye, sir." to be broken. it was as lifeless as a piece “the thing for the rest of us to do is to find of wood. he pulled up his sleeve, and matthews and mrs. hitchcock and harding.” touched the flesh gingerly. it had a livid they began searching again, scattering, so look he did not like, and ugly, crimson as to cover the largest field. a cry from streaks. he felt his head again, and came mackay brought them all together as fast as to the conclusion that it wasn't much hurt, they could run. he had discovered harding though his hair was matted with blood, and and matthews where they had been flung be- there was a persistent warm trickle down neath the mainsail. they ripped the canvas one ear. open and matthews crawled slowly out, none he extricated himself, and staggered to his the worse, apparently, for his temporary im- feet. the wreck about him was frightful. prisonment. his companion, however, was the deck of the fortuna rose before him, insensible; and it was no easy matter to drag sheer as a wall. he was standing in a chaos him through the wreckage to the unencum- of sails, ropes, splintered booms and yards, bered ground beyond. they were all very crates, barrels—from which he heard groans, shaky and bruised and exhausted. kirk's and faint cries for help. crushed under the shoulder throbbed mercilessly, and at times it main-boom he perceived the figure of a man was all that he could do to stand. never was he went over to it. it was beale--or what anything more welcome than the sight of once had been beale, for the body was gibbs with a bottle of whisky and half a pail mangled out of all recognition save for one of water. some of the raw spirits were tattooed arm. farther on, he pulled a lot forced down harding's throat, and he was of stuff off haines, and helped him up. the gradually revived. he opened his eyes, catastrophe had settled all their differences. asked where he was, swore feebly, and then he was quite glad to find haines unhurt sat up. the others made cups of their hands, childishly glad-effusive. and this sullen, and greedily drank the allowance kirk red-headed fellow, who a few minutes before served out. it was a scanty one, and kirk had been doing his utmost to kill him, got refused their request for more. they could out a' handkerchief, and carefully tied it easily have obtained the bottle by force, and around kirk's wound. they eyed it longingly as he kept it close be- “let's try to find the old lady,” he said. side him--but no one stirred a hand. the “she's about here somewhere. i thought i swift retribution that had overtaken their heard her voice under that sail." mutiny, and the desperate part that kirk had together they started off to search for her. played in it, had cowed them into servile as they were doing so they were joined by obedience. each was eager to ingratiate gibbs and mackay. the newcomers brought himself in the captain's favor, and to forestall news of jackson. the day of reckoning. "i guess he's done for,” said mackay. kirk sent them back to look for mrs. hitch- “he was still breathing when we reached cock, while he made his way, painfully, and him in the foretop, but anybody could see he dragging every step, to where jackson and the adventurer charlie nesbit were lying, still within the top. "i am sure captain jackson would ap- the great search-light, with its complicated prove of that,” she said. “hadn't we better apparatus of lenses, generators, tubing, and go and tell him?" valves, had burst all over them, and was for a space no one answered. it was emitting an overwhelming stench of gas. gibbs who was the first brave enough to the two men were locked in each other's answer. arms, both dead now. in nesbit's face there “why, ma'am,” he faltered, “the poor was a look of unutterable horror. his eye- gentleman was in the foretop when she " balls protruded; his mouth was open and mrs. hitchcock turned very pale, trembled, distorted; he had seen-and understood—the and pressed her hand to her heart. gibbs death he was to die. would have said more, but she stopped him. jackson presented a less repulsive spectacle. "i-i think i'll sit down here a little while, he had the air of being asleep. his withered and-and-rest,” she said at last. “no, cheeks, his bald head, his benignant mutton- don't stay with me; i would rather be alone. chop whiskers had miraculously escaped the that is, if there is nothing i can do for pollution of blood. they drew out his life- him?" less body and laid it on the ground, buttoning “there's nothing," said kirk. “nothing his uniform to hide his crushed and bleeding that you or any one can do for him now." chest. kirk was in the act of covering his they left her sitting on a spar, and when face with a handkerchief when he heard they turned and looked back she was on her haines calling out. mrs. hitchcock was knees, praying. found. kirk followed haines back to where “she allus thought a lot of jackson,” said mackay and gibbs were bending over her mackay. in bewildered astonishment. she was sitting “more than i ever did, the domineering, huddled up on the ground, giggling and overbearing be—" began gibbs. grimacing as though it were all an excellent “hush!” exclaimed kirk. "he's dead joke. as the ship capsized she had been now, and has passed beyond criticism. the flung against a canvas ventilator, and carried thing for us to do is to dig the reflector out down on a veritable bed. “like shooting of the search-light, and rig up an apparatus the chutes," she explained, bubbling over to swing it on." with hysterical merriment, "and then splash- “aye, aye, sir,” said gibbs deferentially. ing through eternity at the bottom!” “it can't be more'n twenty miles to camp," “i am thankful you are alive," said put in mackay, “and in clear weather like kirk. this the flash ought to carry all of sixty." “so am i, young man,” she returned with haines shuddered. unimpaired sprightliness. “moi aussi, je “and you won't let them be too hard on vous assure!” us, sir, will you, sir?" he pleaded. “i have he wondered whether he ought to tell her a mother, sir, and two young sisters that— " of jackson's death, and on second thought "it all depends on yourself, haines," in- refrained. she would find it out soon enough terrupted kirk sternly. “you fellows will as it was. but her crazy gaiety, so discordant have to earn your forgiveness, and earn it amid the universal ruin, seemed at the in the next few hours. do you understand? moment proof against all misfortunes. gab- earn it by hard work and rigid obedience bling, nodding, energetically gesticulating to orders!” with her hands, she persisted in a vivacity heartily protesting their intention of doing that in the circumstances was hardly be- so, the three mutineers followed kirk to the lievable. battered, blood-splashed top, and applied “captain,” she cried, “i put myself at themselves with a will to the extrication of the your orders. it's your business to tell us reflector. what to do, and it's ours to do it-hee, hee- half an hour later an improvised helio- isn't it, gibbs?” graph was sending its dazzling message across "my idea is to find a mirror somewhere, the prairie, and with blinding flashes in- and keep flashing our position back to cessantly cutting the arc of the eastern sky. camp," said kirk. “it will give them the general direction to reach us, and if night it was midnight. falls before they arrive, we'll build a fire, and the survivors were gathered about a fire, send up rockets at intervals.” whose beams lighted up their shadowy figures everybody's magazine drowsing beside their rifles, ready at a word yards, and once more to entrust their fate to to spring to their feet and defend the wreck the willing winds. from indian marauders. all about them and if they failed ? rose a wild tangle of masts, spars, and rig- a crushing sense that he was to blame for ging, seen and lost and seen again as the it all oppressed his heart. not for having fire flickered or fell; to one side the im- capsized the vessel. that he gloried in. penetrable night, on the other the dim better to have the wreck of the fortuna mountain of the fortuna's hull, and her than no fortuna at all. it was some satis- wall-like deck, sheerly perpendicular, at once faction that jackson's villainy had been so familiar and so fantastic in its altered rela- so appropriately punished. he had not a tion to the ground. particle of pity for him, nor beale, nor nesbit. harding lay on a blanket, moaning faintly, they had got only what they deserved. his and occasionally calling out in a husky voice remorse went farther back. had he only for water. mrs. hitchcock hovered over him, listened to vera's pleadings, to her reiterated ministering to his wants, and whispering en- and passionate appeals—what an incalculable couragement. the old woman, in the hour amount of misery would have been prevented. of disaster, was showing good qualities hither. in the retrospect his own stubbornness ap- to unsuspected—the finer side of her irre- peared inexplicable. he cursed the stupid sponsible and contradictory nature. in the pride that had worked so great an evil. she presence of death and suffering she seemed loved him; she would have appreciated at its to rise superior to her inveterate triviality. full the sacrifice—had he made it for her. the incorrigible giggler and scatterbrained westbrook, who on so many occasions had monologist for once stood awe-stricken before shown such marked and unmistakable regard the eternities. for him, would have been won over. they at intervals kirk put a match to a rocket, would have returned the two happiest people and watched it shoot skyward in a streak of in the world. fire, till, halting in the dome of night, it ex- and now? ploded its little galaxy of stars. here for an oh, what a fool he had been! what a fool instant they would hang, sparkling brilliantly he had been! -crimsons, blues, greens, all intermixed in a vivid confusion—to vanish in the twinkling there was a shout in the darkness, the of an eye, leaving the night blacker for their sound of stumbling feet, faint far-away having been. voices calling. von zedtwitz strode into it was then, it seemed to kirk, that the the firelight, revolver in hand, a formidable, poignancy of the disaster came home to him broad-shouldered figure, full of energy and most fully. these fiery signals, so identified ire. with the distress of ships, so long the appeal kirk sprang up to meet him. of castaway and perishing seamen, forced “doctor!” upon his mind an analogy of similar hopeless “girkpatrick!” . ness and despair. explanations hurriedly passed. the ger- he asked himself how this vast mass was man was in a steaming sweat, and his voice ever to be righted again. what if those was vibrant and guttural from long run- gigantic masts were sprung, the mighty axles ning. his delight in finding kirkpatrick twisted, the water-tanks burst asunder by the alive seemed to outweigh every other aspect frightful impact with which the fortuna had of the disaster, and he grasped him in the struck the ground? in the universal ruin embrace of a bear. though less effusive, about him he saw no means of their ever kirk's heart, too, was full, and it brimmed extricating themselves again. were they over with affection for the honest old german. doomed to perish miserably of starvation and with von zedtwitz there seemed to come an lack of water-or, more appalling still, to atmosphere of resolution, sturdy courage, and become slaves to the savages? no, not that superb self-confidence. assuredly, for they would die fighting first. they were still excitedly talking as some turn as they might, there was but one way of the others began to trickle in. dusty, of escape, and that was the fortuna. their travel-worn, limping, they presented a sad lives depended on their power to right her, and disheartened appearance. for twenty- to repair her shattered fabric, to spread her odd miles, guided by kirk's signals, they had torn sails on those splintered booms and toiled across the llano like an army in pre- the adventurer cipitate retreat. guns, blankets, water bottles had been thrown away. those who dropped out were left where they fell. the flight had degenerated into a mad scramble of every man to save himself. kirk was half crazy to learn news of vera. she, too, had started out with the rest. only the wounded had been left behind. he eagerly questioned the weary throng as they arrived in twos and threes and threw them- selves on the ground. they could tell him nothing more of her, nor of her father. spiritless and apathetic, they seemed not to care. all they wanted was water for their parched throats, and once they got it they rolled over on the ground like logs. von zedtwitz had disappeared to ascertain as best he could in the dark the probable damage to the ship. the only men kirk could rouse into action were the recent mutineers. they knew on which side their bread was buttered, and showed an almost pitiful alacrity and zeal to serve him. - taking two of them, with lanterns, kirk went in search of the missing. the folly of the proceeding struck him before they had gone a quarter of a mile. he himself was so spent and ill that he could scarcely walk. they had no means of carrying water, no compass to guide them, no aid, in fact, to give beyond the little whisky that still remained in the bottle. they stood there helplessly under the stars, fearful of going on lest they should lose the direction, and calling out as loudly as they could. there was an infinite melancholy in the sound. it rose in the void like a wail of anguish. “hallo- - -a! hallo- - -a!”. “hold on!” cried haines suddenly. "it's nothing but the echo,” said mackay. “listen!” exclaimed kirk. from far across the prairie, but clear and distinct in the silent air, they heard what seemed to be an answer to their call. again their own shout went up. again it was answered by a silvery note that thrilled in kirk's ears with startling reassurance. he took hold of mackay's arm, and began to run. weariness and pain were forgotten. “sing out, boys,” he panted joyfully. “keep it going-keep it going!” “hallo-o-o-a, there! hallo- - -a!” blundering through the darkness, shout answering shout, they at length discerned shadowy figures hastening to meet them. the first was wicks, who on recognizing kirk let out a roar like a bull. the devonshire man wasted no time in greeting, but turned back, eager to pass the good news to his companions. “it's the captain himself !” he cried. “right as a trivet, and no harm done!” there was an outburst of exclamation. kirk found himself in the center of a little group of friends who seemed ready to pull him to pieces from excess of thankfulness-wicks, goltz, phillips, crawshaw, westbrook, and vera. the upraised lantern lighted their pale and haggard faces thronging all about him. little crawshaw wept unblushingly. west- brook, in that mellow voice of his, always so sincere and kind, and now tinged with a singular nobility, thanked god that kirk had been spared to them. “i never thought to see you again,” he said. “it's like meeting one risen from the grave!” kirk felt a little soft hand feeling for his own, and an insinuating girlish body nestling beside him. vera had not spoken a word, but her eyes, luminous with a strange and tender light, had never left his face. she per- ceived, what had escaped the others, that her lover was suffering. “kirk,” she said suddenly, "you're hurt!” “oh, it's nothing," he returned. “arm's a bit dicky, that's all.” and with that he fainted. chapter xxi the days that followed were hardly more than a blank to him. looking back on that misty period, his most pronounced memory was of lying with a clinical thermometer in his mouth. it had a peculiarly flat taste, and he recalled the inordinate amount of coaxing that was necessary to make him keep it there. there were also intervals of whisky in teaspoons, and nauseating messes of a gray, sticky complexion that he was persuaded, with extreme difficulty, to get outside of. there was a bitter taste always in his mouth that even water could not allay. there was phillips, too. he hated phillips. he and the thermometer seemed to go to- gether. to see him was to know that the glass-tasting process was to recommence. once he actually chewed it and oh, dear, wasn't there a commotion! it had become the most natural thing in the world to have vera about. when he opened his eyes and did not see her, he felt everybody's magazine again?" a vague sense of indignation. he felt that badly smashed. the mainmast was sprung, he was being neglected. he would complain too, but they repaired the place by shrinking peevishly to the empty air, and the ache in on hoops of red-hot iron. the maintopmast his bones would grow worse. he had no couldn't be saved, but the foretopmast was idea what a tyrant he was—what an over- doctored into shape. it looks awfully patchy, grown and exacting baby. it was vera's but mr. wicks is sure it will stand. oh, place to love him, to caress him, to throw over they've been so busy, kirk.” him the mantle of an exquisite maternity, “and the water-tanks held ?” above all to stay by him. as he grew better “i suppose so. nobody has ever said a he used to lie for hours watching her. her word about them. but we're getting the graceful head, the turn of her rounded chin, same old skimpy allowance." her fair hair, so glossy and thick and soft, “thank god!” were an unending delight to him. “now you must stop talking, and shut one afternoon he awoke from a long sleep. your eyes.” his drowsy eyes took her in with a strange “but you'll stay close to me, won't you?” and new understanding. he motioned her “right here." to come over, and she knelt beside the cot “i should have died if it hadn't been for and took his wasted hand. you. i know i should.” “vera,” he said, “i think i must be "pooh! go to sleep.” better." “mayn't i be grateful?” he noticed her pallor; the dark rings un “not till you are well.” der her eyes; her worn, wan face, beautiful “and it's true that you love me?" even after days and nights of watching. “yes, dearest." “how long have i been here?” “and nothing shall ever come between us “let me think-eight days." “and you have been nursing me?" “never, kirk, never.” “yes." "i wonder if — " “why didn't you leave it to somebody the rest of the sentence was never said. the hand in hers relaxed. he was asleep. “because i love you, silly boy." it was the turning-point in kirk's ill- a delicious contentment stole over him. ness. he improved rapidly. little by little, he felt his hand fondled against her hand, he gradually learned all that had happened her cheek, her lips. it was sweet to lie since the night of the wreck. harding had there, in a languor of weakness, and be lingered a few days, and then had passed petted. away, without regaining complete conscious- “it was my arm, of course?" ness. strange to say, weaver was on the “compound fracture, with fever and de high road to recovery. the little jockey lirium.” said it was the doctor. the doctor modestly “what did the doctor say—will it be all ascribed it to a miracle. right?" the mutineers had been let off scot-free, “oh, yes.” although there had been some wild talk of “soon?” making an example of them. but every man “pretty soon!” was precious, and it was policy, as well as “what's all that clanging and banging?” mercy, to deal easily with them. the fellows “that's papa and mr. crawshaw. does had buckled down with such a will, and had it bother your poor head?”. shown such energy and good spirit, that at “no, i like it. what are they doing?” last, by universal consent, they were rein- “working at the forge.” stated and forgiven. “then they still have hopes of getting her to rights? the fortuna ?” it was a wonderful day for kirk when, “hopes! why, they've done it!” leaning on vera's arm, he was permitted to “done it, vera? do you really leave his tent, and see with his own eyes the mean ?" progress that had been made. the camp “you mustn't get excited.” was humming like a factory. anvils were “oh, but, my darling, you are keeping me thundering, bellows blowing, and the fortuna, on tenter-hooks- she was not damaged?” now on an even keel, was overrun with men. “not irreparably. the forward truck was the different gangs cheered him as he moved else?" the adventurer along, and crowded about him with hand- at all. mine was to wait for the varnish shakes and hearty congratulations. it gave to wear off, and let my little girl see her him an inexpressible pleasure to find how admirer in his true light. character was little he had been forgotten. it made him sure to come out. well, the result of all my proud to receive before vera the homage of waiting and watching was to discover that these rough fellows, and to see their faces kirk here is one of the finest, truest, noblest gladden at his approach. it seemed to raise fellows i've ever known. he's a man, every him in his own estimation. how good they inch of him, and pure gold all the way through were—how good and kind and generous! -and there's nothing he could ask for that i and, by george, how they had worked! wouldn't give him. there! i've made it it was almost unbelievable. one might plain, i hope? tried to, anyhow. and almost think, to look at her, that the fortuna god bless both of you." had never turned over at all. there were “i don't know how to thank you,” said big jacks under her forward, and the lack of kirk. “i was not prepared for-for- it the maintopmast gave her an unfamiliar look; means so much to me. it-it means every- but once on deck she was to all appearance thing." the same old ship, and not particularly “and i'm going to love you more than changed. ever," said vera, throwing her arms around her father's neck. “you mustn't think it's “and so you two children are engaged?” going to make the least difference-because “yes, papa.” it sha'n't!” “and friends are to accept this as the only “but we haven't finished with the thing intimation?" yet," said westbrook, with dry humor. “i “yes, papa." am interested in the young man's prospects. “and the other high-contracting party- a bit hazy, aren't they?" can't he speak?" “i've been thinking over that. you are "it was vera's idea to do all the talking, going to put him in charge of the new plant sir.” in jersey city," “and what am i to do-faint with sur "oh, i am, am i? a post requiring every prise?” technical qualification, and employing eight “yes, papa." hundred men!” “do you suppose i haven't seen it all “kirk can do anything!" along? why, i've had you two under a “ah, no doubt. big gun construction microscope, and kept awake more nights being one of those simple things that any- thinking it over than you would believe.” body can pick up—twelve-inch rifles made “mr. westbrook,” said kirk, “i know while you wait, and delivered daily in our very well that your daughter's choice is bound special van! pom-poms and three-o'-threes to be a disappointment to you. she is left on your door-step with the milk!” throwing herself away in marrying a man like “papa, you're mortifying kirk.” me—but i love her, and she loves me.” “god forbid! only let us get down to “disappointment-humph! how do you earth. falling back on the old man isn't know it's a disappointment, young man?” my notion at all. silly too, when there is “she has the world at her feet.” a tidy little independence just over the “that usually means an earl.” horizon.” “oh, papa, do be serious. it's a life-and- “papa, you promised me that awful night death matter to us.” that if we pulled through you would go “well, you two, listen to me. when i straight home.” first saw this thing beginning, it made me feel “that's what i'm getting to.” mortal bad, i can tell you. i hardly knew “no, i am going to hold you to your word. what sort of a man i wanted for you, vera, it's all too dreadful and dangerous. i won't but frankly-it wasn't kirkpatrick. but i let you beg off.” was a man of the world. i was too wise "who's begging off?” to show any marked disapproval. the “you gave your solemn word of honor!” stern parent is answerable for half the un “i admit it. it was one of those impul- happy marriages. he supplies an element sive occasions when the best of us stumble. of romance, and helps to keep the little i lost my nerve-temporarily.” darlings in a flutter. that wasn't my idea “kirk has promised me, too." everybody's magazine cent. " "and so the expedition has to be aban- heart out. he thought it was all off. the doned?" tent door closes at ten o'clock sharp, young “of course." lady.” “it's just as easy to go on now as to go back. ask kirk.” chapter xxii “are you going to break your word?” “no-o.” after nine days' southward sailing the “i hold you to it, papa.” fortuna lay awaiting von zedtwitz's re- “and condemn kirk to the bread of de- turn. to port were some low reddish hills, pendence, eh? bitter bread, my girl. he rising tier upon tier, till the red melted in the has his hand almost on a fortune, and you will blue and purple of a distant mountain chain. not let him reach out for it?" to starboard was the prairie, shimmering “it may be all a myth.” like the sea, and as illimitable. beneath “hundred thousand pounds all his own! awnings, fore and aft, the crew and officers half a million dollars, vera! at four per of the ship were whiling away their time as best they could, and trying to keep the sus- “it's no good talking, papa. i won't, i pense from becoming unendurable. through won't.” the winding gap in the near-by hills von “isn't kirk allowed to open his mouth zedtwitz had disappeared three days before, on the subject?” leading a party of ten well-armed volunteers. “we're of the same mind.” sixteen miles beyond, he believed, was “now, see here, kirk, if you hadn't been cassiquiare. the doctor had been positive tied hand and foot in pink ribbon-what of it; had pointed triumphantly at the land- would your vote be?” marks in proof; had resented, with fiery im- poor kirk hesitated. he tried manfully to patience, the least doubt being cast on a liebut couldn't. memory that went back so many years. un- “i-i'd see the thing through,” he said. fortunately, his observations had not agreed “how does this going back strike you?” with kirk's. they differed by sixty-odd “well, sir, if vera insists— " miles-nearly a whole degree of latitude. “now, own up, it's a frightful disappoint but there were the hills; there was the gap; ment to you, isn't it?” there the doctor, jubilant and vociferative. “i'd sacrifice more than that for her, sir.” every assurance, in fact, that they had struck “sacrifice-ah, that's the word. frankly, the right place. so they had manned the side, isn't it a great pity to throw up the sponge and sent him forth with ringing cheers. that when we are on the very threshold of the had been at dawn on a tuesday morning. place?” by wednesday night they had fully expected “yes, i have to admit it.” the party to return. by thursday they grew “did you hear that, vera ?” anxious and apprehensive. friday found “yes, papa." them very gloomy indeed. “doesn't it count with you at all?” “foretop, ahoy!” "it's because i love you both so much." “yes, sir.” “didn't you tell me at felicidad that the “did you see a flash just now a couple of hardships would surely kill me? why, i points off that cliff?” have fattened on them. never felt so well “no, captain.” in my life! it seems to show that you are “make out anything?" not always right, doesn't it?” “no, sir.” "i want to go home, and live happily ever “keep a sharp lookout!” afterward." “aye, aye, sir.” "postpone it a few weeks. oh, my dearie, this colloquy roused the ship. dozing the game is in your hands. be a little men awakened, and inquired what was the thoroughbred!” matter. glasses were leveled at the place “we-ell-papa, i let you off your promise!" kirk pointed out. but nothing could be “hurrah, kirk! southward ho, for cas detected. the air, quivering with heat, gave siquiare!” a strange unsteadiness to the bare and crim- * by jove, sir, we'll make it this time!” son hills. they might have been painted on “you won't mind if i run round and tell some theatrical drop-scene, and wabbling zeddy? the poor chap has been eating his in the draft. the adventurer breaking out the ensign at the main. it satis- fied his crying need for action-to do some- thing—to relieve in any way the tension that grew every instant more insupportable. the bright bunting drooped lifelessly at the mast- head, refusing to flutter. the sun beat down with an increasing fierceness. the toy soldiers were running now, at a heavy jog- trot. but keeping together, and finally show- ing for what they were-a string of shaggy, overburdened men-dirty as tramps—their wicked-looking rifles giving them the aspect of desperadoes. von zedtwitz put both hands to his mouth, speaking-trumpet fashion. the ship hushed. tense and breathless, every one waited in a fever of impatience to learn the news. was the treasure still there? or had others got in before them? or were they, after all, sixty miles out of the true position? “crawshaw- every ear was strained. crawshaw! had the doctor gone crazy? “was bitten- b ut there was the little man himself, spectacles and all, skipping like a colt! “by a snake!” "on deck, there!” “what is it?" “they're coming, sir!” there was a hoarse buzz of excitement followed by a rush up the rigging. men who had never trusted themselves before beyond a score of ratlines now valiantly assailed the sky itself, racing one another to the tops. some stuck midway, but yelling lustily, and swelling the hubbub that on every side greeted the good news. “are they all there?” “all there, captain.” “eleven?” “that's right, sir.” “any sign of trouble?” “no, sir.” “who's leading?” “von zedtwitz himself, sir." “what's he doing?” “seems to be waving his shirt." “in distress?" “can't say—more like he was dancing, sir.” these meager details were passed on with excited comment. glasses were focused on the place where at any moment the little party might be expected to emerge. a tiny speck came into view. behind it, in single file, gradually appeared ten other tiny specks. the sight of them was the signal for a mighty cheer. then faces were picked out, with eager and noisy disagreement. it became a burn- ing question whether the fifth speck was wicks or jack cohen - whether the ninth was henderson or crandall. “it's wicks, you wall-eyed goat.” “cohen, or i'll eat my hat! tell him in a million." “it's wicks, just the same.” “wicks, nothing—it's jack!” and so on, and so on. the human monkey must chatter. the specks grew bigger—now toy soldiers in size, stepping out briskly. red faces bobbed into the glass-von zedtwitz's taw- ny whiskers — rifles, cartridge-belts, water- bottles-dazzling bits of metal-work. it was exasperating to have to wait; to know nothing; to search vainly for any indication of how things had fared with them. why had they not agreed on a signal? von zedtwitz, bare to the waist, continued energetically to wave his shirt. but that might mean anything. you could take your choice. to some it seemed a good omen. kirk answered it by this extraordinary piece of intelligence, so remote from the subject that was desperately agitating them, overwhelmed them with an astonishment verging on dismay. what of cassiquiare? of the treasure? of all those ardent hopes for which so much had been already sacrificed? they stared at the doctor in amazement, expecting him to bellow, in his resounding voice, the yes or no on which everything turned. but he seemed to con- sider that he had set all their curiosity at rest, and resumed his ponderous double-quick at the head of his men. the ship broke into a wild uproar. disci- pline was forgotten. the gun-crews deserted their stations, to which kirk, ever mindful of danger, had assigned them at the first am- biguous gesticulations of the old german. it had flashed across his mind that possibly the little party was being pursued; that they had roused a hornets' nest in that hollow of the hills. but the men raced pell-mell for the gangway, and with shouts and huzzas streamed over the prairie toward their com- rades. kirk, too, caught the contagion, and darted down. the ship might take care of itself. the point was to reach zeddy, and reach him quick. everybody's magazine the old fellow stood panting in the center colossal picture in his mind could not be of a mob. described. speech was inadequate. oa wiper " he was saying; “no longer “corking,” said wicks solemnly, filling than that, but flat-headed and wicious, and it the breach. stung him just above the ankle. ah, but it was what you call a close shave. many times chapter xxiii i said: 'he will die. assuredly he will die!' and ach, how he screamed! you wouldn't in the first flush of enthusiasm and joy, it think so little a fellow could scream so big. seemed as though the object of their voyage had i not some potash permanganate, and were as good as already gained, and little most carefully rubbed it in, you would never thought was given to the obstacles that yet have seen him again!” had to be overcome before the inca treasure “but cassiquiare?” demanded kirk, be- might in reality be called their own. to side himself. “what we want to know is have reached the limits of the llano was one whether you found cassiquiare?” thing; to transport fifteen tons of metal from “of course we found cassiquiare," re- its mountain stronghold, thirty-one miles or turned von zedtwitz, irritated at the inter more, was quite another. ruption. “was i not sure? did i not say a tentative effort, made with one of the it with positiveness?” automobiles, showed in a very disheartening “and the treasure? the gold?” fashion the impossibility of carrying out their “it was there where the snake was. i original plan. the powerful car, stripped thought i heard a hiss, and so, bromptly, i like a racer, and lightened of every superflu- said- " ous ounce, attempted in vain to force the “oh, hang the snake! good heavens, passage of the hills. the direction was con- man, is the treasure actually positively stantly lost; rocks and declivities intervened; there?” a day was spent in arduously accomplishing “of gourse." nothing. “just as you left it all those years ago? it became evident that such haphazard just as you described it to us?” dashes were a mere waste of time. in going “why, certainly, captain.” forward the circuitous road behind was for- “bars and bars of it?” gotten. it was as hard to get the car back “hundreds! ask wicks.” the dozen miles it had covered as it had been “aye, that's a fact, sir,” said the first to push it on. that night, in a council of officer. “lord, but i never saw such a war, it was determined to survey a track to mountain of metal in all my days, and stacked cassiquiare, mark the way with guide-posts, so nice and tidy that it might have been the blast and level the bad places, and, if neces- bank of england. it made a fellow blink sary, build some light bridges. it was a for- to think that every ingot of it was virgin gold, midable undertaking for so small a party, and enough to buy a row of cottages in the hampered besides by the need of guarding high street of appledore.” the ship, and having always to keep on board crawshaw came bustling up to shake of her a sufficient crew to resist attack. hands. he looked not a penny the worse but they had come too far, and had en- for his bite, and was in uproarious spirits. dured too much, to shrink now before this “captain,” he cried, his eyes shining last colossal task. for five weeks the dogged through his spectacles, “the treasure was the work went on. shift hy shift, every hour least of it! but the crumbling buildings, of daylight was utilized. axes rang, fell- acres big, all covered with figures and hiero- ing trees on the scantily wooded uplands; glyphs—the courts—the triumphant arches, blasts detonated, hurling boulders into the lopsided and toppling—the mystery and air; backs bent to shovel, crowbar and pick; gloom and vastness of it beggars all descrip- and the dusty cars, bearing tools, dynamite, tion. imagine the grave of a vanished civ- food, water, and encouragement, incessantly ilization-a london of forty centuries ago, passed and repassed, honking good-will, and a forgotten rome. it seemed to catch a fel- at times even proffering their strength to low by the throat. you were overawed in drag out a loosened rock, or to tug some spite of yourself. you stood in the middle timber into place. of it all - " though his arm was out of splints, kirk he paused, at a loss for words. the had been forbidden by the doctor to use it the adventurer much, and the poor fellow chafed at the cars leaving the ship, loaded with men and idleness that was thus forced upon him. he material. dusk saw them returning with was condemned to stay by the fortuna, where the exciting report of what had been ac- though he found plenty of things to occupy complished. in the stifling galley hildebrand his leisure, he grudged to the others the in- stirred his great pots, scanned his bursting spiriting work he was not permitted to share. ovens, brewed his huge coppers of coffee for from the foretop, whose dizzy terrors he had that mighty supper when all hands reas- taught vera to despise, the pair would sweep sembled on board. no vikings in the past the hills with their glasses, and pick out, as ever did better justice to a board than the far as their eyes could discern it, the tortuous weary and voracious fortunas after their day road that was to open the way to the golden of toil. even under a torrid sky the white city. man can dig his black brother under, but he it was a matter of some bitterness to them makes up for it by an onslaught on meat and both that they were never to see cassiquiare. vegetables, on coffee, marmalade, and pud- westbrook had flatly said so in one of his ding, that is truly terrific. kirk was inclined rare moments of asserted authority. their to view with misgiving this frightful inroad divided forces kept him in a constant flutter on their provisions, but von zedtwitz de- of alarm, and he, alone of the whole party, clared, with his deep laugh, that it would had indian on the brain. a few of the abo- lighten the ship for the gold to come; and rigines had once been seen to the southeast, westbrook affirmed the old truth that the darkening the horizon for an hour and then human engine responds in proportion to its sinking over it. the memory of them had fuel. remained to torment the old man with “feed them up now even if it means short visions of attack and massacre, and he re- rations afterward,” he said. “to stint the peatedly declared that neither kirk nor vera boys now would be fatal.” should ever leave the ship. and the "boys”—not stinted-gobbled up it was hard, during those long, hot days, whole barrels of salt pork and beef, whole to be so closely confined on board. in the cases of marmalade, jam, and honey, moun- general sense of security engendered by the tains of new-made bread. rough, homely profound peace about them, westbrook's fare, but good for muscle, for endurance, for nervousness appeared more and more absurd prolonged and heavy labor under the fiercest and unreasonable. he was always insisting sun that ever shone. on vigilance, in season and out. the track crept up and up. the ten-mile even kirk and vera grew a little impatient post was planted—the twenty-mile post—the under his restrictions. they pleaded and thirty. the excitement became tremendous argued with him in vain to be allowed to see as the end drew near. one night but one cassiquiare before they should leave the place car returned; the other was in cassiquiare! forever. they derided the thought of indians; yes, in cassiquiare, its crew camping beside hotly denied that there was the least risk in the it, and eager for the honor of bringing down world; pointed out the injustice of this won the first load of treasure! the news, brought derful sight being withheld from them when by crawshaw, set the ship wild with de- it was so freely accorded to the others. but light. cheers rose on cheers. bearded men the old fellow would not give way an inch. hugged one another, and capered on the his daughter was his daughter, he would deck like children. pistols were fired in say—uncontrovertibly, and kirk was needed the air. everybody yelled himself hoarse to sail the ship. he could not afford to as though in duty bound to make all the let either out of his sight. nor, to satisfy noise possible. tin cans were beaten; pots, this objection, would he consent to go with barrels. one brazen-lunged individual got them. the very idea appalled him. cool hold of the speaking-trumpet, and in deaf- and courageous in the face of real danger, heening tones, demanded cheers for west- was a veritable poltroon before that of his brook, for kirk, for mrs. hitchcock, for own imagining. phillips ascribed it to the zeddy — till exhausted nature could no reaction following extreme mental excite- longer respond to the ear-splitting invita- ment; said it was common in soldiers after a tion. ten minutes of pandemonium; of battle; gave it a latin name. frantic, uncontrollable joy; of boisterous all this while, day in, day out, the work in abandonment of all restraint. ten million hand went on indefatigably. dawn saw the dollars was theirs to divide on the capstan- everybody's magazine head. ten million dollars-hip, hip, hurrah! the bars in duplicate. one he is to keep; every one of them was rich-rich for life the other he will file with mr. westbrook." and in a few short days they would all be “i understand, captain.” homeward-bound! “you, too, mr. goltz, will follow the same at daybreak crawshaw, von zedtwitz, and instructions." henderson got away, inaugurating a regular “quite so, sir.” schedule that it was intended to maintain till the last ingot should be under hatches. at westbrook, at the lazaretto door, saw the four bells of the morning watch the other car treasure safely deposited within its dim in- appeared in sight, swiftly darting over the terior. all but one bar, which he retained prairie, three men on the seat, five more and carried to the table, laying it carefully clinging as best they could to the long narrow on a towel to prevent its smirching the cloth. deck behind. honking furiously, the car the afterguard silently and intently watched drew up under the fortuna, and as the new him file a small surface clean, and drop a few comers sprang up the gangway they were globules of acid on the glittering place. received with outbursts no less loud and ju- “it's gold, all right,” he murmured. “yes, bilant than those that had welcomed craw- it's unmistakably gold.” shaw the night before. but the excitement then he heaped a little mass of filings on was suddenly hushed to a breathless sus- his watch-glass. pense as goltz, at the head of his little party, “i will assay these," he continued, looking marched aft, clicked heels, and saluted kirk up. “i suspect silver, and perhaps a little with german punctilio. lead. the color is a bit light-you can all "have the honor to report our arrival on see that, gentlemen-too light for absolute board, captain.” purity. but i hazard the opinion that it will “very good, mr. goltz.” work out to about nineteen carats fine.” “was too overloaded with men to bring down more than forty bars, sir." “where are they?” chapter xxiv “alongside, sir.” “mr. wicks?” for the succeeding period everything was “sir!” subordinated to the task of bringing down “you have rigged a block and tackle to the treasure. each car was able to make the foreyard?” two round trips daily, covering a distance of “it's all in shape, sir.” -odd miles, and averaging , pounds “then hoist in the stuff, and stow it in the to a load. crawshaw, henderson, goltz, lazaretto." and weaver were the chauffeurs-one on, “very good, captain.” one off-each when on duty accompanied by a few moments later, as the first batch of a helper drawn in turn from the crew, who ingots dangled in the air, there rose shout vied with one another for the opportunity. upon shout that swelled to thunder, followed goltz and weaver owed this honor to their by a rush to see and actually touch the won- knowledge of cars, each having behind him derful prize that at last was within their a wild and spendthrift past, in which his grasp. the sling was opened on the deck, motor had been the most innocent of his ex- disclosing forty small, dark, flattish bars, travagances. weaver had twice been winner uniform in size, and deeply pitted with the of the oaks, once of the derby, and for an corrosion of time and damp and mold. a hour the most courted little man in england; centipede scurried out of the heap, and was and von der goltz, the dashing uhlan, had forth with trampled on. there was a minute flung two fortunes to the wind inside a year, of tumultuous exclamations, of crowding in, and had been broken for an escapade that of rubbing the dirty metal with wet fingers, was the nine days' wonder of berlin. of horseplay and boisterousness. then rou how kirk envied these four, as day after tine asserted itself. day they came and went, while he himself “stand back, there! stand back!” was condemned to a grinding inaction. it “mr. wicks?” was unbearable to watch the great gaunt “sir!" cars leave the ship, and blithely fly across “the officer of the deck will tally off the the prairie in exhilarating freedom; more loads as they come, and will make a note of bitter still to see them return, dusty, panting, the adventurer sluggish with gold, the grimy pair on the had been fretting westbrook for some little racing-seat fresh from wonders he was never time. it was but another example of his to behold. vera was as chagrined as he, and increasing fidgetiness, since kirk had trained hotly declaimed against her father's restric- hildebrand into an exact system of book- tion. keeping, by which an account was kept of their indignation was increased by the every pound used, and the store-list was night- fact that westbrook, in spite of all that he had ly posted like a ledger. but at this juncture said, himself went up twice, and returned with the proposed examination, so long opposed as the most glowing account of his experiences. unnecessary, now appeared most fortunate. his assumption that he was immune from danger, while they would be sure to attract luncheon was just over. the afterguard, the thunderbolts, was made the subject of a, under an awning, and with both quarters of fierce and unanswerable argument. but the the ship screened from the glare without, sat old man was inflexible. vera should not go. drinking their black coffee on deck, and neither should kirk. beauty might storm, lazily smoking and talking. westbrook was and clench her little fists, and half cry with deep in a game of chess with von zedtwitz. vexation—but it was no, always no. the phillips, his long thin legs curled up, half climax was reached when mrs. hitchcock, lay in a hammock, humming contentedly to audaciously ignoring westbrook's prohibi- himself, and occasionally reaching out a hand tion, choo-chooed off with goltz, and spent a to feel for his cup. mrs. hitchcock, her rapturous day in the mountains. this was bonnet awry, and her eyes dancing with the last straw. it was unendurable that the mischief, was pretending to tell wicks's old lady should achieve this while they re- fortune by his hand. the air was somnolent mained fettered. for nearly seven weeks, with heat. the drone of a concertina was remember, the pair had been confined to the wafted from the forecastle. under the lee narrow deck of the fortuna, wistfully eying of the galley, his bread marshaled about to the hills, and longing as only prisoners can rise, hildebrand was sleeping the sleep of the long for freedom. the exacting old man just, and snoring melodiously. a profound would not allow them to stray from the ship, peace had settled on the ship. the moment nor even to walk up and down beside it. to for flight had come. defy him, in his nervous and highly worked- kirk slipped away first. as vera, a minute up condition, would have been to cause a later, rose quietly to follow, her father fixed scene from which they both shrank. but her with his gaze. it was so formidable that the conspiracy dated from mrs. hitch- she faltered and stood still. but absorbed cock's return. it was hatched that very in his game it was questionable whether he evening, after westbrook had turned in. had even seen her. it was a stare of pre- there was no lack of confederates. the occupation, blind and introspective. sympathy of the whole ship was with kirk “check king,” he said. and vera, in their enforced imprisonment she waited till the doctor moved, and then, aboard. if they were to see cassiquiare at as her father again bent his head to the board, all, time had to be taken by the forelock, as frowning thoughtfully and tugging at his there was already nearly twenty-four thousand mustache, she mustered up all her courage pounds weight of treasure stacked, tier upon and walked away. tier, in the depths of the lazaretto, and the kirk was waiting for her a dozen steps inca's hoard above was fast being depleted down the gangway. below him were craw- the pair were to get away secretly with craw- shaw and henderson beside the car, looking shaw after the midday meal-one of the up expectantly, and smiling from ear to ear. regular times for a car to set out, and the best vera was hurriedly assisted into the seat be- time, it was judged, for undetected flight- side the former. kirk clambered up behind. and the others were pledged to distract the henderson turned over the engine, and attention of the old man. jumped in beside him. there was a grinding indeed, his whole afternoon was mapped sound of gears, a leap forward, and they were out for him in advance: chess with von zedt- off. witz, developing photographs with phillips, a they sped over the plain like an arrow. descent into the hold with wicks for a rough the air beat deliciously against their faces, stock-taking of the provisions. it seemed a and roared loudly past their ears. the stroke of luck that this last-named matter powerful car, vibrating with an untamed everybody's magazine hill hill vigor, flung itself forward with an impetuosity him talk when he ought to have concentrated that brought the heart to the mouth. at all his attention on his steering. but he times, intoxicated with motion, crawshaw would insist on exhaling information in abrupt opened the throttle and seemed to shoot them sentences, turning his head to make sure that into space-easing down again in sudden kirk heard him. “this was all blasted, terror for his springs. behind him, holding captain. see that rock? dislodged from on for dear life, kirk snatched fleeting up there, and came down like an express glimpses of the fortuna, and watched her train! this was the hardest bridge of all. diminish in their wake. there was no sign yes, my idea to build it out, and strut it from of animation on board of her. all was life- beneath. oh, it's solid, don't worry. wait less and still. her slanting masts quivered till you see it from up there, and it'll make in the heat, and her long awnings drooped you dizzy, though! i was let down on a rope, over the recumbent figures below. west- miss westbrook. yes, swinging in the air brook had not detected their escape. with a mallet and cold chisel. well, some- but as he looked back, kirk could not help body had to do it, you know." feeling a certain uneasiness as to his own con- and all the while, at a pace that hardly duct in the matter. he almost regretted that ever relaxed, they twisted and turned on their he had not faced up to westbrook, and boldly upward way. before long they met weaver demanded as a right that which he was now and haines, who, in the second car, had been taking by subterfuge. but such a course, waiting for them at a sort of siding. the successful as it was sure to be, would have engineer explained that this was the regular been at the sacrifice of vera. and after all, point for the cars to pass, thus insuring to her longing to see cassiquiare was not a whiteach a clear road in either direction. here less than his own. he was not the first man there was a short parley to take the new- who had paltered with his conscience and comers into the secret. they were to be sure put his honor in jeopardy to please the to keep their mouths shut about seeing kirk woman he loved. not that he put the blame and miss westbrook. the ex-jockey grinned on her-god forbid-but he had a sudden, indulgently. he was a perky little man with piercing realization that they were doing a puckered, fox-terrier expression, and an wrong, and might have to pay too bitter a appearance of withered youthfulness. penalty for their escapade. “i don't blyme you," he said, in his he tried to nerve himself to stop crawshaw. chipped cockneyese. “it's a plyce to see, he felt a singular tremor of alarm to see the and no mistyke about it. it's like having the ship dwindling so fast behind him. the im- british museum set out in the grass, and the mensity and loneliness of the scene frightened first time i was up i felt like arsking for a him with a sense of evaded responsibility. check for my umbrella!” what was he doing? what was he risking? haines gave a little shiver. good heavens, his rash project verged on the “anybody may have it for me, captain," disloyal, the dishonorable. but shame, the he exclaimed. “gad, a fellow's all the time thought of vera's disappointment, a sort of turning his head like a zulu was going to embarrassment at showing indecision before jump out at him with an assegai-and as for his subordinates-all withheld the order on this gold business, it's about as gay as passing his lips. well, he was in for it now. it coal on the orlop deck.” was too late to draw back. and- the two cars parted with a mutual honk- all qualms vanished in the exhilaration of honk of farewell, and the runaways were the ride. crawshaw handled the car superbly speeding on and up again. some miles along, and knew the track like the palm of his hand. crawshaw began to expatiate enthusiastically little by little the gradients increased; turns about a place they were nearing. multiplied; the backward view showed how “we call it the lookout,” he said, “though swiftly they were mounting. the fortuna the inca's chair is also one of our names was lost altogether. a scrubby vegetation for it. from there we can look straight appeared; an occasional cactus; a clump of down to the fortuna, and open out a big part bluish aloes. the fifteen-mile post whizzed of the road we have been coming over. if it isn't the finest view you ever saw, i'd like “half-way,” ejaculated crawshaw, sizzling to hear the name of any that can beat it!” round a precipice that allowed them hardly a t hey were soon able to judge for them- foot to the good. it was hair-raising to have selves, emerging from the shadow of rocks h by. the adventurer and trees, to attain, with delightful unex- we call it that just to give it a name, you pectness, the high bare shoulder of the moun- know. can't make it out? there, follow tain. here there opened before them an un- my finger!” impeded view of the hills and valleys that kirk followed the finger too. separated them from the fortuna, which, far b oth he and vera cried out with a simul- below on the carpet of the plain, lay like a taneous exclamation. toy at their feet. crawshaw stopped the rising buttress-like against the sky was a engine, and allowed them to gaze without mighty arch, the first outpost of the dead city interruption at the panorama unrolled before beyond. them. the little party drew together, as though in the desolation and immensity of chapter xxv the scene they felt an instinctive need of close human companionship. kirk had stood on murmurs of astonishment rose to their higher altitudes, and looked down on scenes lips as the great arch loomed larger. colos- no less spacious and noble; but these had sal and solitary, fantastically carved with been in countries where men lived, where a hieroglyphs whose meaning had been lost for roof, a terrace, or some sinuous line of rails hundreds, possibly thousands, of years, it had softened the wild and untamed face of towered toward the sky, mysterious, savage, nature. here, however, in the untrodden awe-inspiring. to the left was a building solitudes of a continent, the spirit had no of vast extent, and of the same crumbling, such solace. a vast loneliness oppressed him, grayish stone, its proportions undiscerni- a profound and daunting peace, a crushing ble and lost in the jungle that everywhere sense of abandonment. hemmed it in; that broke through massive for the first time he appreciated and un- walls; that with snake-like roots pried enor- derstood how westbrook, more imaginative mous blocks of masonry asunder, and top- than himself, perhaps than any of them, had pled giant pillars off their pediments. allowed a not unreasonable fear to consume above them could be seen a richly carved him. for a moment he himself quailed, and façade, its bold and primitive design of a his hand on vera's turned cold. thought- singular beauty, ennobled as it was by the lessness, he reflected, is the commonest mas- hugeness of its size, and the inordinate amount querade of courage. yes, he had been of labor that had been lavished on its execu- thoughtless; he had not before realized the tion. the eye caught glimpses of intermina- precariousness of their situation; hundreds ble galleries, pillared and ghostly; of terrace- of miles of scorched and waterless desert di- like projections tottering crazily in the azure; vided them from all help; the smallest disas- of shattered, undistinguishable masses of ter to the fortuna might easily cost them all stone, tumbled headlong into débris. there their lives. he had a vision of bones bleach- were other buildings frowning down on them, ing in the sun; of sand drifting over skulls as enormous, as crumbling, as weird as the and skeletons. one they skirted. these, too, teased the im- he exerted himself to throw off this som- agination with what was left unseen. there ber humor, and so far succeeded that he was seemed no ordered arrangement at all-no soon laughing and talking in complete for- coherency. they rose as capriciously as getfulness of his oppression. they got on rocks from the sea, fort-like and grim, in a board the car again, and in the best of spirits wild confusion of ruin, but always with the proceeded on their way. tantalizing suggestion that much was with- “only three miles more," said crawshaw. held, was hidden, that further mysteries lay “i say, miss westbrook, if you'll lean over a beyond, that the most wonderful of all was bit you can get a peep at the arc de triomphe. awaiting to be discovered. the final instalment of “ the adventurer" will appear in the october number. dewolf hopper, "i:xalted ruler of fandom." "fans" and their frenzies the wholesome madness of baseball by allen sangree with photographs by heyworth campbell the visit of clark griffith and his new to-morrow.” then, struck by a sudden idea, york american leaguers to the fed- he suggested to griffith that if he wanted one eral prison at atlanta on the occasion of stanch rooter at the next day's game he their southern practice trip this spring, fur- should write out a pass for the ex-murderer, nished a telling illustration of the intensity of forger, and counterfeiter. the american interest in baseball. i was griffith, of course, made out the pass, and among the newspaper correspondents that we looked for the released convict with some accompanied the party, and all through the eagerness. there was no difficulty in noting corridors and workshops we marked the his arrival. he came from the top row of yearning with which the prisoners' eyes fol- the grand stand to a seat back of the visiting- lowed the leaguers, some of them moving bench in three bounds, emitting yells of their lips as they tagged off the various dia- peculiar ferocity, and immediately began a mond heroes filing by — griffith, chesbro, vicious roast of the new york team:“rubes!” elberfeld, and jim mcguire. dr. nye, the “lobsters!” “yer can't put 'em over!” bertillon expert of the prison, explained that “back to hackensack!” “they bought the though conversation is forbidden and newspa- empire!” “run, you ice-wagon!" he had pers are excluded, the prisoners in some mys- every classic anathema, ancient and modern, terious way manage to learn the baseball scores at tongue's tip, and he so rattled new york's each day and even become familiar with the pitching tyro that the big leaguers were names and achievements of renowned players. defeated. as we were passing through the barber- “you're a fine sort of a fan, you are," shop, an employee made such excited gestures jeered griffith bitterly after the game. “had with a razor that dr. nye stopped and my way, you'd get ten years more. whispered: “that fellow has been in prison excepting for the loss of his voice, the ex- twenty-six years and his time expires at noon convict appeared to be rejuvenated as he sat “fans" and their frenzies father farley. there red-cheeked, throbbing with life, grinning happily. not until dr. nye explained did he appreciate his blunder. “cap'n,” he apologized in a wheezy whisper, “take my oath, i never even knowed who was playin'. yes, sir,” he asserted earnestly, “that's gospel. what i let go"-he tapped his chest—“has been inside o' me twenty-six years, an' it had t come out.” dr. nye nodded at the some- what appeased griffith with understanding sympathy: “it was either this or a spree for him, and the ball game'll do him more good.” doubtless some thirty-third degree "fan” resents the use of the title for such an illogical crank as the ex-convict. it must, indeed, be admitted in all justice that, although lexicographers have not as yet devoted their acumen to the subject, there does exist a nice distinction among the terms “rooter,” “bug,” and “fan.” any one may be a rooter if he attends a game only once in a lifetime and yells. a bug, too, need not be a steady patron; his chief requirement is ability to quote data and statistics dealing with averages, games, and players. but the fan—! he is as far above the others as a mahatma above a coolie. to him baseball is sleep, meat, and drink. it becomes a fetish. having passed through the stages of rooter and bug, the soul of a fan frequently achieves a nirvana that enables him to express untold passion by a mere eye-glint. again, he may elect to roar. he is the sublimation of baseball fervor, getting out of it all there is in it. now, the bug finds difficulty in transform- ing himself into the gorgeous, glittering, butterfly fan. he is too small- minded, cranky, absorbed in details. he is the chap who writes letters to the papers: “it's a wonder to me that you don't get a cigar-store indian to do baseball for you. he couldn't make any more mistakes. yesterday that asinine blockhead that calls himself a baseball expert said dan mcgann was born in tennessee, instead of ken- tucky. day before he said willie keeler's batting average was. . it should have been . . if you want to keep your circulation, better get an expert that can tell a base- hit from a catcher's mask.” even as a child, irresponsible and uncritical, the rooter blithely pursues his untrammeled course, howling at any- thing and everything—he is only a laborer in the cult, not an artist. it was in complaint of such a one that the new york baseball editors received numerous caustic letters just after ira thomas made his first appearance in "fast company” with the highlanders. detroit, the visiting team, had scarcely gone to bat when the rooter arose and in a voice blatant as roland's trumpet, began to root for “ol' jim mcguire,” who at that precise mo- ment was out in michigan. “that's him! there he is, same ol' jim. god bless the old fella’! i knowed him down in washington—used t'eat at th' same table with him. well, sir, did yeh see john philip sousa. that t'row to second? great? w'y there ain't another man on earth 'at could do it! an’ say, jest t’ think--he's who seldom misses a game. "after music, baseball." on copyright by george r. luwrence co. the basebali. faxatics been twenty-five year in th' business. he's rooter; to them the incident was not even th' whole game, jim is!” worth relating. this was really a serious offense, since of the nation's fans, those to whom base- “big” thomas is perhaps a foot and a half ball has become synonymous with life and taller than mcguire and a score of years freedom, none has been so celebrated as younger. along about the seventh inning “hi-hi ” dixwell, of boston and old “well- when the rhapsody grew wilder, a bug stepped well,” of new york. when the former down and touched the rooter's shoulder: died he was characterized as boston's “say, you, that isn't mcguire ketchin'; it's "most unique citizen." for a generation he thomas. and if it was mcguire he hasn't had delighted and amused baseball patrons been in the big league but twenty years; you with his high-pitched, staccato “hi-hi," said twenty-five.” emitted only upon the accomplishment of thomas?” questioned the other, not the some especially meritorious play. it was least abashed. “what's his first name?” considered something to boast of that one had “ira.” been seated “right 'long side of hi-hi," and “good boy, ira! that's th' way! make the ambitious novitiates in fandom were ac- it a home! holy smoke, look at him run! customed to wait for him to put his stamp of ain't he th’ candy! what d' i tell you— approval on a throw, hit, or catch before they cleaned th' bases! thomas! thomas! joined in. thomas!” the popularity of old “well-well” with little wonder that the bugs were incensed laymen is undeniable. verse writers have at this cheap demonstration. but the row long employed his name as synonymous with of fans behind-did they move a muscle? spring. indeed, it is never reckoned a hardly! in superb benevolence or perhaps genuine opening at the polo grounds unless pity, they silently regarded both bug and the long-drawn, sonorous bass notes, “well, salong brann dan sneenax. leaving the polo grounds in new york well, well!” caroming against coogan's “andy” bid for the score-card privilege, bluff, usher in the season. but old “well- detroit's crack twirler helped him secure it. well” has never been regarded as a criterion rudolph was straightway in a delirium of and his lack of judgment will prevent his ever joy. he slaved to get out the most attractive ranking high among baseball mahatmas. score-card on the circuit, even though he was another count against him is that in later losing $ a year. the approach of ruin years he has “well-welled” for the enemy and in nowise daunted his zeal. on the con- the home club indifferently, a breach of trary, when half the detroit club were crip- ethics that the forty-second-degree fan, who is pled, this astonishing fan volunteered as as- immovably loyal, will not overlook. sistant rubber, and after every game, though a more reliable and praiseworthy celebrity wearied from selling score-cards, he would in the fan cult was “detroit andy,” who died pitch in and employ what strength he had left about the same time as “hi-hi” dixwell. in massaging the kinks out of tom, dick, and under his real name of andrew rudolph, he harry. when andy came to die he was quite was just beginning to be successful in busi- impoverished, yet, like nathan hale, he had ness when the baseball mania seized him only one regret—that he could no longer with such relentless grip that he practically shout for the tigers. abandoned everything in order that he though fans are bound by no constitution might be in the ball-park day and night. nor code, there is, nevertheless, a hard-and- he attracted attention by his steadfast al- fast understanding among them that a candi- legiance to the tigers whether they were date for the title must prove himself worthy losing or winning, and his clever advice in some noticeable way. mere attendance at from the bleachers helped to win many a every game in a season will not suffice; and game. pitcher mullin in particular profited many a zealous and faithful enthusiast, fail- by “andy's” observations, so that when ing to realize this, has suffered under the everybody's magazine lifelong stigma of rooter or bug. but, like success, fan fame often comes without any effort. dewolf hopper, for instance, be- came the high exalted ruler of fandom as a result of reciting “casey at the bat.” and not only that—he made a deal of money out of that baseball poem. other actors of that period, notably henry e. dixey and digby is,” he testified, "the only case of a dog- gone run that has ever come under my ob- servation." yet even with this authoritative boost, dixey's baseball fame perished misera- bly at an early age. taking liberties with a venerable truth, one might say that some persons are born fans, others become fans, and a few have had even if they have to take the baby. bell, knew more about the game and patron- ized it more frequently than hopper, but the public did not care to hear of them. consider what befell mr. dixey, who strove to clip away some of hopper's laurels. on a gala day in boston he attended the game in a purple-painted barouche accompanied by a party gorgeously appareled. the com- edian also had with him a favorite fox- terrier, which he loved like a child and would not have lost for at least a trifling fortune. in the ninth inning bill dahlen, playing short-stop for chicago, smashed a terrific drive directly at dixey's carriage. it came with such velocity that the agile terrier had no time to escape. the ball hit him squarely on the head and he tumbled on the green- sward a very dead dog. next day every news- paper in america told the story, describing the actor's grief, his narrow escape, his de- votion to the national game; and “pop” anson, chicago's captain, after vast mental labor, originated a historic bon mot. “it the honor of being fans thrust upon them. before the american league was established, half a dozen years ago, there was but one object of devotion and therefore there was less chance than now to gain publicity among all the millions who patronize professional baseball. but with the shifting of famous players from the national to the american league, citizens were called upon to select a favorite, and a distressing upheaval fol- lowed. husbands and wives parted; lifelong friendships were destroyed; children aban- doned their parents. in philadelphia and boston nearly all the illustrious fans attached themselves to the american league. chi- cago and st. louis made an even division, but new york, the cradle of baseball, re- mained loyal to the giants and the national league. for a time it seemed that the in- vaders never would attach any but rooters and bugs, and then, suddenly, in a single game, two deserving fanatics won the degree. i t was the historic contest in the american philio morro the bench. supreme court justice mccall on the left. the bar. the "street." league when new york lost the pennant to boston on account of pitcher jack chesbro's anointing the pellet too lavishly. jimmy williams fielded a grounder and had he made his throw accurately, the game would have been won by griffith's team. but as a result of the ball's being wet, he hurled it wild and boston put the "pie over the coun- ter.” in this awful moment a fulton market fish dealer named edward leach stood up like thousands of others in agonized contor- tions, a cigar butt in his mouth. in the painful ex- citement he gasped and down went cigar, ashes, and all. those who have ex- perienced this calamity say that the immediate results are harrowing. but leach, recognizing the psychologi- cal hour, bore the agony without a groan. “it was nothing,” he declared, "to the stage. louis mann, most demonstrative of "fans." everybody's magazine losing the pennant.” next day the papers men, and society notables he had small re- printed his picture and the order of elks nown. he was determined to succeed with raised him to high estate. for the rest of the new league even at a financial loss and be- his life he will be pointed out as a fan. gan by presenting the yankees with a safe wherein the players might stow their jewelry while on the field. it proved such a trump card that bell's name went the circuit of the league and now he basks in deathless fame. few of the gentler sex have had the desire to follow the game closely and fewer still the hardihood to work upward through the degrees of rooter and bug to fandom. in fact, the records mention but two- helen dauvrey, who arrived at full honors when she married that achilles of the "diamond," john: ward, and mrs. charles wilson, of new york. wherever the giants are known, mrs. wilson and her son “buster," mascot of the team, are also known. they are accom- panied by the husband and father, herman ridder, owner of the new york staats-zeitung. charles wilson, an extensive real- estate operator, and this trio of it was also in this game that lawyer fans has traveled the country over, in training wallace, a university graduate and an able and championship trips, missing only two barrister, first won general recognition. he games at the polo grounds in three years. had been casually mentioned during the season as the “yanks' singing fan,” his hobby being to take position behind the home bench and lead the grand stand in song. for this occasion the lawyer arranged a parody on auld lang syne: we're here because we're here because we're here because we're here. hardly a masterpiece, but the words and melody were so simple that the whole arena joined in, and if song could have availed, boston would have been defeated. lawyer wallace always occupies the same seat. he not only sings but coaches the home club so cleverly as to be of real service. pitcher mullin, of detroit, admits that wallace has caused him to lose several im- portant games by his continuous avalanche of song and speech. it required a certain amount of thought and craftiness to dim the luster of leach and wallace. but a manufacturer of safes in harlem, one edward everett bell, evolved an effective idea. bell had been for many seasons a steady patron of the polo grounds, though by reason of the fame there of actors, states- "you see, there are nine men on a side." they have been photographed, caricatured, and “roasted” for their extreme fanaticism, all of which merely amuses mrs. wilson, be- cause, as she told the writer, “except for baseball i should not be alive to-day.” “fans” and their frenzies “four years ago," runs her story, “i was evidence at foreshaw ranch, near hutchin- quite ill, threatened with consumption. at son, kansas, last summer. in the midst of the same time mr. wilson suffered a heavy the harvesting season all hands quit work to financial loss, and with eight children to rear, see the joplin and hutchinson teams fight for things looked desperately blue for us. we supremacy. the owner faced ruin if the crop were not in a position to take a sea voyage, and was not garnered immediately, and he could no other sort of diversion appealed to us, get no other workers. in this extremity the until one day i happened to see the following boss thought of building a huge score-board so verses: that the men might harvest and still read from the most distant fence corners. a "let's get a bag of peanuts and be boys again and telegraph wire was run from town, a skilled shout for the men who lam the leather and line three- operator received and posted the scores, baggers out: inning by inning, and we have the word of a let's go out and root and holler and forget that we truthful missouri sporting editor that “mr. have cares, foreshaw's ranch was harvested in jig time." and that still the world has markets that are worked by bulls and bears. the fundamental reason for the popularity every year they tell us that baseball's out of date, of the game is the fact that it is a nationala but each spring it's back in fashion when they line safety-valve. voltaire says that there are no up to the plate; real pleasures without real needs. now a when the good old, glad old feeling comes again to file its claim- young, ambitious, and growing nation needs when a man can turn from trouble and go out to to “let off steam." baseball furnishes the see the game. opportunity. therefore, it is a real pleasure. but the outsider comprehends nothing of “we forthwith resolved to turn from our this. “baseball," he argues loftily, “is a troubles in this way. the result of our game for people whose minds are vacant, experiment sounds like a patent-medicine whose imagination is dull, who, of necessity, testimonial, but it is true that i recovered seek diversion because they have not enough my health, mr. wilson his cheerfulness, and soul leavening to be company for themselves. soon after everything prospered.” they remind me of the southern darky who it is unfortunate that she who was miss loves to crowd with twenty score of his kind in alice roosevelt did not continue her patronage a small space and be sociable.' briefly, i last year of the washington club and thus set think baseball is supported by persons in- the fashion for women fans. instead, mrs. tellectually poor and somewhat vulgar." longworth attended only enough to get the in the face of what occurred at the opening name of rooter. a little more persistence game at the polo grounds this year, the en- and see what would have happened! through- thusiast hardly knows how to gainsay this out the length and breadth of this broad land aspersion.. commissioner bingham having you could not have found a nagging matron unexpectedly withdrawn all police protec- nor a maid with nervous prostration. “for," tion, a whole army of fanatics-estimated at says a philosopher, “health contributes most , -charged on the field just when new to cheerfulness, and to remain healthy one york was on the point of overhauling phila- must have the proper amount of daily ex- delphia. what did that throng care for vic- ercise. . . . when people can get no exercise tory or defeat! who was john mcgraw at all, as is the case with countless numbers pleading that he might finish the game, when who are condemned to a sedentary life, there is , mortal dynamos surcharged with pent- a glaring and fatal disproportion between out- up emotion, energy, and democratic en- ward inactivity and inward tumult. for this thusiasm were bent upon expressing them. ceaseless internal motion requires some ex- selves! this way and that swept the mul- ternal counterpart. . . . even trees must be titude—fans, bugs, and rooters-pommeling shaken by the wind, if they are to thrive.” one another with cushions, jubilating, yell- fans, bugs, and rooters are shaken and ing, making a sieve of the welkin-physical- therefore thrive by baseball. the game ly and mentally getting everything “off the furnishes the required "external counter- system.” that is what baseball does for part.” humanity. it serves the same purpose as a why, even watching the scores will stir the revolution in central america or a thunder- blood, galvanize the heart, and rid one of storm on a hot day. distemper, a truth of which there was strange in commenting upon commissioner bing- everybody's magazine ham's threat to close up the baseball parks “peach! great!” he yelled. “wasn't in new york if the managements did not that a corker?” provide their own police protection, two “nice hit,” agreed the justice, wincing metropolitan editorial writers alluded to base under the blow, “but he should have taken ball as a “harmless” sport. what a weak third base; he had plenty of time.” characterization of the exhaust-valve of a the “rooter's” face broke into grins of ad- great nation's spirit! do you suppose either miration. “say, that's what he could. say, of those editorial pundits ever saw louis you know this game-you do. you must be mann, the german character actor, "explode" a fan! what's your name?” at a ball game, casting to the winds all thought “white." of propriety or criticism? could they know “mine's dorgan. well, white, ol' horse, the brain-storm surging within david b. hill you certainly know baseball. he'd ought t' from the only outward sign visible—a nervous reached third!” tapping of the fingers? would they under- next day the justice was talking with three stand why senator winthrop murray crane, senators on pennsylvania avenue when the ex-governor of massachusetts, insists on his rooter and a friend passed. another thump guests at the dalton farm playing baseball, on the back and: “say, white, it was a corker, making the game the principal feature of his eh? but you was right. the papers claim hospitality? hickman ought twent to third. well, a sport for the empty-headed? by no s’long." means. one of the country's pioneer fans instead of administering a rebuke, the jus- was the late arthur pue gorman, who tice, much to his companions' amazement, played professional ball with the old wash- returned this familiarity with nod and smile. ington nationals. he lauded the game as a among the myriad prominent persons who national benefaction and declared that it had make a hobby of baseball-statesmen, phy- added years to his life. it is related of the sicians, clergymen, actors, and financiers maryland statesman that while watching a senator crane has a niche all to himself. thrilling game in baltimore some exuberant when governor of massachusetts he bought spectator unintentionally landed on him such a farm near dalton ostensibly for raising a mighty fist-blow that mr. gorman"took the crops, but the gentlemen of his council on count." the offender was seized and thrown their first visit soon discovered that potatoes down, and though he was screaming apologies, and beans were of secondary importance. he would have been roughly handled had not “i have an idea, my friends," said the mr. gorman himself interfered. “never governor, "that before we start wrangling mind, never mind,” he said; “i might have over perplexing questions it would be a wise done the same thing, i was so excited.” thing to play a game of baseball. if any one and then, how about justice white, of the has a grouch let him take it out on the ball- united states supreme court! would you and above all things yell yourselves hoarse.” call his a vacant mind? for years this he led his astonished council to a choice eminent american plodded, in company with bit of meadow where was a perfect diamond his associate justice mckenna and scores of with a grand stand behind the home plate. statesmen, to win the title of fan. but base- then, to the further amazement of his guests, ball crowds are so democratic that the mere he arrayed his farm employees-swiss gar- enthusiasm of a national dignitary "gets him dener, irish hostler, english groom, danish nothing." he must convincingly prove that teamster-against the members of the council, he grasps the game's transcendent purpose who were thus put upon their mettle. togged and understands its democracy. there are out in old clothes, they puffed, panted, and per- no honorary titles to fandom even for a spired, ever goaded by their chief, who was in president or a king. fine training. "run, you indian!” “put it jealously, therefore, the great jurist awaited on him!" "take a lead!” “come on home!” his hour, and although it came most unex- only after full nine innings had been pectedly, he had the acumen to discern it. played did the governor let up. all ranklings, one day he was sitting beside an explosive jealousies, and bitterness having been worked rooter, who was a total stranger to him. just off on the diamond, there resulted a most as hickman rapped a two-bagger in right satisfactory conference. field, scoring a couple of runs, the rooter gave another zealot is ex-congressman wads- justice white a hard thwack on the shoulder. worth, of geneseo n. y., whose son, august “jimmy," speaker of the new york assem- when the chicago and all america clubs bly, played first base on the yale team. he completed their round-the-world spalding held the same position on the geneseo valley tour in , many distinguished fans of that club, which was organized and backed by the period, including chauncey m. depew, mark elder wadsworth and has for years cleaned twain, daniel dougherty, henry e. how- up everything in the valley. mr. wadsworth land, and erastus wyman, joined in royally apparently takes keener interest in this ball banqueting the athletes at delmonico's. club than in cross-country riding, at which in declaring that “civilization is marked, he is an adept. two years ago the judges at and has been in all ages, by an interest in the the madison square bench show waited manly arts, and among those baseball is fretfully for the geneseo pack of hunting supreme,” it was believed that mr. depew dogs to be brought into the ring. stewards had summed up the case for baseball. but scurried about seeking them, and friends who the champions of cricket, football, polo, or had come to see the pack take first prize boxing might justly dispute this. a better also searched the building for the master, characterization would be: baseball is chess who was finally found in a far corner demon- with athletics, a constant changing of situa- strating to a reporter how the geneseo short- tion, a continuous excitement. these feat- stop checked a liner by throwing his glove ures, coupled with the fact that nearly every in the air and then making a double play. man has at some time been a player, the like senator crane and mr. wadsworth, game's honesty, its democracy, and—the um- the astute and blithe e. h. harriman prefers pire, unite to furnish a diversion that fills a to vent his feelings in semi-privacy, and the team that he and his seventeen-year-old son a tonic, an exercise, a safety-valve, base-> conduct near tuxedo is said to be a “ripper.” ball is second only to death as a leveler. mr. harriman does not play himself, but he so long as it remains our national game, knows the fine points of the game and has america will abide no monarchy, and anarchy long since passed the stage of rooter. will be too slow. august by edward wilbur mason the high gods took the rose's flame of fire; they took the drowsy poppy's breath of sleep; and shaped her woman's soul of mad desire, and lovely languor deep. they gave her for a voice the raptured lark, and set it singing in the quiet hush; they gave the dove to mourn at dawn and dark, and tender hermit-thrush. rich cleopatra of the months! a queen she rules the world with sun that southward swings. and see! like asp upon her bosom green, the tiger-lily clings! the money by richard washburn child illustration by edmund frederick . cawder's wife was giving a dinner party dancing through jungle verdure and calling to the evening i arrived unexpectedly from mind butterflies' wings poised in lazy flight new york; therefore he put me up at the over gorgeous flowers. i pushed through the berlen club and left me in his nervous little swinging door into the library. it was large, way, expressing over and over again the hope warm, and quiet. enough of the arc light of that i would be comfortable. not to be the street shone through the stained-glass comfortable at the berlen is not to be human; windows to reveal the dignified and silent whether it is alive with greetings and chattings battalions of books on the highest shelves, and murmurings or whether it is silent, except but the white radiance slanted up, so that the for the gentle crackling of open fires in the lower part of the room was dark and mys- winter or the rustle of wind-blown curtains in terious. midsummer, it is by far the best club—- i was sitting in a big leather chair i was wonder- about to say, in the world. ing that the upper part of the room should i got back to its doors somewhat after be so light in the sloping radiance from the twelve. staying up late is most fascinating, window, and then that the lower part, deci- away from home; the streets of a strange city sively marked off, should be so impenetrably are particularly alluring after dark. i re- black, when there came to my ears a long and member that a lazy, feathered snowfall heavy sigh. so powerful a measure of sor- dimmed the lights at the corners, rare glows row and suffering was in this drawing of from window-panes became iridescent, men breath that the entire world seemed ready passed this way and that like shadows through to change its complexion and grow sallow, the storm, cab horses' hoofs beat on the wet and to shiver, just as i shivered. i realized asphalt-clop cloop, clop cloop! the sleeve that the horror in it was not inhuman nor of my overcoat was covered with a marvel of supernatural, which would have made it less intricate little stars, which melted when i terrible, but human and natural, which made stepped into the soft lighted warmth of the it the most vividly fearful sound i have ever club. one could almost imagine a sigh as heard. each slipped away. how life lives at mid- thinking that my presence had not been night! dreams become real; reality is like a noticed, for i had come in almost noiselessly, razor blade. the play i had seen became a i coughed. my cough was answered by a memory far astern; it was lost in the joy of movement. a good day's work still farther behind. i, “oh,” said a voice, “i thought i was being a lawyer, had reorganized a corporation. alone here. it's late, isn't it?" now it could go ahead on strengthened finan- “rather late.” my startled answer was cial feet. the manufacturing plant would still in marked contrast to the deliberate, refined be hot and rumbling next week; six hundred tones of the gentleman who, i now knew men would still labor there; something would by his voice alone, sat at the other side of happen there; things would be made! i had the magazine table beyond the thick black- done that. i resolved to go there and see ness. smoke pour out of the chimneys. "perhaps—since there are two of us here- sleep was nonsense; it would awake me you would not mind the light,” he suggested. from this rich, fruity midnight life. i thought i could not offer an objection. with the of the library and climbed the stairs. it was snap of the electric fixture a flood of radiance snowing outside, but on the landing was a scampered into the corners of the room. tiger's skin suggestive of indian sunlight i recognized john hepplewhite. he had the money been pointed out to me a few years before, as was not joking with me; i even laughed his tall, distinguished, disconsolate figure had nervously, and he frowned. passed down the gangway of an incoming “but,” i exclaimed, “your family- " steamer. at first glance his features had “everything is quite well settled," said he. seemed to me strong. his hair was very “my son is all that is left me. a fine fellow thick and white, and carefully brushed so -just through college - jack hepplewhite." that it swung down behind his ears, smooth he smiled with pride. his eyes dimmed; as a bird's wing; his skin was firm and his his mouth twitched. “it would be rather nose very pale between red, glowing cheeks, cruel to let him see me go." which were still rounded out in his declining “but there is just one more thing," he years in evidence of a moderate and whole- cried, and threw his head back as if in agony. some life. i am used to observing too super- “i don't know what to do about it. i don't ficially. as i saw him in the club library i know what to do about it.” noticed more. i saw that a lifetime of some he raised himself a little. his fingers sort of regret had dulled his eyes and drawn played a tattoo over a french comic paper his upper lip tight, that a lifetime of some sort on the table. of weakness had made the corners of his “i'll send for her, i think,” he said finally, mouth droop helplessly. i had heard men as if finishing some long debate within his say: “there's hepplewhite. nothing to do mind. “there'll be time. what a fearful ex- but take care of his money.” and there, perience for her—so fresh, so fair, so young! in the library, hepplewhite and i sat face to but i'll send for her. it must be done." face and i did not envy him. “the telephone?” said i. “can i help “i'm dying,” said he, and folding his long- you?” i thought of the opportunity to call fingered hands, he looked at me steadily. a doctor. i cried out in alarm. you would not “you are too eager, young man,” said he have doubted his word had you heard in his clear voice. “don't trick me, sir. i him. “what can i do for you, sir?” i ex give you my word as a gentleman that they claimed. could not hold me here until morning. give he scowled slightly and his eyelids came me your word, sir, that you will not send for down. “you're not a doctor?” a doctor." “no,” said i quickly; "in the law. but meeting his gaze, i saw that we must play the telephone fair. “i give you my word,” said i, “my “no-no-no!” he cried, raising his arm word to a dying gentleman." he smiled. as if he would oppose my plan with force. “may i engage you as my attorney?" said “don't let's have any fuss about it. provi- he." "i will explain to you. miss sheridan dence might have sent a doctor with his is at a dance. it is at mrs. dennison's res- strychnin, but, in fact, providence sent a idence. miss sheridan is engaged to my lawyer. providence is kind.” son. tell the truth. tell her not to tell “how do you know that you are to die?” jack. tell her to come alone. a beautiful, i asked, leaning across the table. noble woman-she has the courage. when he saw immediately what i meant. you come back there is a legal matter— " "don't let's talk of it,” he said. “it's a hurried to go. i returned, wondering if trouble with a valve in the heart-a fungus i were to find him dead. he was staring growth, a breaking away-a very comfort- straight forward with unseeing eyes. it gave able slipping away—no pain. it happens, me a shock, but he was alive. “she is com- and then two hours later, more or less, there's ing at once,” said i; “she will inquire for a clutch at the base of the brain. off you you, and i have given orders below that she go! i am not afraid, my dear sir.” i ad- be brought here to the library.” mired him for his brazen physical courage. he nodded. “how many witnesses are he settled himself comfortably in his chair. required for a will?” he asked calmly. “i was reading here at twelve. then i felt “two–in this state. parties not in in- it go. the blood is impeded and accumu- terest." lates at the base of the brain. i preferred “parties not in interest? she-- ?”. the dark. i turned out the light. two “will be a good witness,” said i. he hours' notice. since then i have been nodded again. it was hard to realize that thinking." something had broken inside him. his it was difficult for me to believe that he cheeks were still so red. everybody's magazine "i wish to draw a will,” said he. “i have floor from her bare arms and shoulders. she decided i will depend upon her—miss sheri- was indeed a perfect-a strong and beautiful dan. my present will leaves everything to woman. she was breathing like a hunted charities of one sort or another." creature. her eyes were wide with appre- “your son?" said i, raising my brows. hension. she uttered a little cry. “i tell you i've decided to leave him to john hepplewhite rose and stood before her. he gets nothing under the present will. her with bowed head, expressing thus sim- oh, there are problems! you will under- ply his gentility, his sorrow that he should stand more before we've finished-how i was cause her pain, and his profound affection for lost and how he must be saved from following the girl who had promised herself to his son. me.” john hepplewhite's weakened mouth then his old arms opened at the human call drooped; a look of terror came into his eyes, of his failing heart, and i turned toward the followed by redness, then tears. it is a fear window, upon which the sleet was beating a ful thing to see a refined old man go into gentle melody. weeping and shake off his emotion with a i heard the catch in her throat and hep- body twitching like a horse's in fly-time. plewhite's voice saying jerkily: “it was bet- i realized the need for simplicity, and upon ter to let jack know afterward, but there is a sheet of club-crested paper from the writing something that you and i must decide to- table i wrote with my fountain pen: gether." i heard him call to me. “sir, you "i, john hepplewhite, being of sound are my counselor; allow me to present you to mind, do give and bequeath-" i looked miss sheridan.” with courage i turned back up. into the flood of their two personalities. “everything," said he.. “my will,” said he. i handed it to him “all my estate," i wrote, “real and per- and he wrote his name at the bottom. sonal, of which i am at present or will be in “miss sheridan,” said i. she read the future possessed, or of which i have an ex- paper. how her hand trembled and how it pectancy, to my son, john hepplewhite, jr. afterward steadied! i took the paper from this is my will and i hereby revoke all pre- her and made my signature beneath hers. vious wills whatsoever.” i confess my hand i remember that, having signed, a sudden re- trembled a little with the tenseness of the gard for the old man's comfort came over situation as i wrote. i read it aloud and i me. the air was heavy. i raised the win- confess my voice was unsteady. matters dow and through the crack there sifted a seemed to shape themselves out of dream little flurry of snow. stuff. “the last will left nothing to my boy,” “isn't it necessary to destroy the other?” announced hepplewhite, regarding her with he looked up in the manner of one who asks close scrutiny. “not a cent. all to various a silly question. “generally the more money institutions. you and he would have had a man has to dispose of, the less he knows nothing to begin life upon-absolutely noth- about wills," he explained. ing." “this revokes it," said i. an expression of dismay drew her lips. “i'll sign it, then,” he said. hepplewhite reached forward from his chair “no,” said i, “only in the presence of both and took her hand. “my love for him,” he witnesses. “she-miss sheridan-there is said simply, “that was why." his head, her cab, i think.” a horse's hoof beat hol- white and fine-browed, bent forward over her lowly as a vehicle came to a stop below us. fingers until his lips touched them. “i we spoke no more, waiting, and as we thought i must leave him to poverty, but i waited hepplewhite's face became distorted will leave him to you." with the stress of some violent emotion. it “from what am i to save him?” she whis- fell easily into the lines of regretful years; he pered. she had dropped to her knees beside seemed to be taking no pains to hide from his chair; a loose end of her gown caught and me some personal disgrace that he had kept the delicate silk ripped with a screech of hidden from all the world till the hour of his pain. going. he was looking beyond the library, into the cab we had heard drawing up before time and space, and his face grew hard with the club did in fact bring the girl. . as she hate. “idleness,” he choked. oh, but the came through the swinging door of the li- sound of this word! it became a word of brary into the full light her wrap fell to the tragedy—the nickname of a horror. "from what am i to save him?” she whispered. everybody's magazine “there, there," he continued nervously, how little you who are so young and hopeful “let us all sit down and take it coolly.” he can realize how age chains a man to himself ran his long fingers through his white hair. as he has made himself. a terrible, un- “you, my dear," he went on, looking at her, breakable prison! i realized. and then “be brave for a few minutes. it will not be in agony — truly in agony - i envied the long." there was a convulsive movement mechanic beating rivets with a hammer—the in her throat, a tightening of her lips. man who hoed and leaned down to pick up “i inherited my money,” said john potatoes, the russian jew who sewed buttons hepplewhite, “and it has fed upon itself, and on to clothes, they worked! but if i beat has grown fatter every year. strange thing rivets or hoed or sewed buttons-mere play, -money. how it works for you! and how mere mockery! too late, i say! do you it corrupts! i inherited my money and i hear and do you understand? too late! was glad, poor fool! i would to god i'd if i could only begin at the other end never had it. and now jack-.” he again!” paused, and i, glancing up quietly to see if he s o he incoherently strove to voice his elu- were nearing the end, noted his widely ex- sive truth. and the girl sensed his shame and posed eyeballs. ignominy, and caught these ragged edges of “i've done no evil,” he cried. “i've led his awful failure to fulfil his human pur- my life morally. i've been generous. i've pose. she clenched her hands; she held her done no evil.” he turned toward me with breath. his appeal. “but oh, god have mercy- “so," thought i, staring with unwinking i've done no work.” he glared at us eyes over the gay-covered magazines of the grotesquely. his mouth quivered. at the library table, “this is to be his miserable instant he seemed loathsome, and it was going out.” loathsomeness for which there was no ac- he was looking up again, and turned as if counting, he expected to see his own life clutch at him “this is what i've done,” he went on more from behind. the room was very still; a calmly. “i've played hard when my blood clock in the hallway struck half past one with was young—the clean games young men its chimes. play. i've traveled the world. i've col- “the most i ever got out of life was raising lected books and pictures. i've raised fine fine holstein bulls," said the old man in a animals, horses, dogs, and cattle. i've fitted whisper. “and yesterday jack told me that out biological expeditions. i've patronized when he was married he would go to raising artists and musicians. but god have mercy, jerseys. he said it was pleasanter to live i was playing! i've done no work.” in the country. god have mercy on him!" “but-” interrupted the girl with tears he twisted like a wounded animal, holding of compassion in her eyes. hepplewhite out his thin hands toward the girl. “you raised his head, which had sunk down until understand?” he asked pitifully. his chin almost touched his coat. “i understand,” said she, “for the first “wait,” he whispered. “i am not through. time in all my life.” and for the first time in i've founded a maternity hospital and given all my own life i, too, understood. scholarships to my college. i've been public- “make him keep his manhood-make him spirited-that's what men call it. i trusteed dedicate himself!” cried hepplewhite in a here and trusteed there—a director forty- cracked voice. “for, of all the tragedies, no eight times. a brilliant money figure! but tragedy is like this—living and dying without what have i made? the lure of riches-get a thing done by the sweat of the soul! god me a glass of water from that table, if you will have mercy on me, for i have only played.” sir- i was playing. and god have mercy the girl's soft lips moved; her eyes were on me!” fixed upon the old man, so broken and so the girl's eyes sought mine curiously and sickening with his manhood rotting along the in silence asked me to tell her that he was not roadway of his lifetime. sane, but i knew how sane he was and i could “now there is nansen, the surgeon," he not lie to her. i knew that she must bear exclaimed, with tears running down his red the truth. it was his wish. he took the cheeks. he pointed at an empty chair as if glass from me and swallowed the contents. nansen sat there in person. “master of the “when i realized all this,” he went on, human digestive system; living and dying a plucking at his chair arms, “it was too late. surgeon, praying at night for knowledge. i the money am no fit company for you, nansen! you should be so. little drafts of air hissed have wrestled with life, but i - we aren't across the window-sill. . the same kind of animal. after a minute, when i and the girl who “and there is mandervan, too." hepple- sat shaking beside me had heard the last white pointed again as if mandervan were struggle in the chair, hepplewhite raised with us, and smirked in a sickly fashion. himself to an upright sitting posture, and “mandervan, you've done well as an archi- his face arose out of the darkness, as a face tect. a great reputation. you don't despise might arise out of a quicksand, into the white me, mandervan, do you? we are both old foggy light. it bore the imprint of inex- members of this club. if it hadn't been for pressible sorrow and disappointment. the money—you understand, i think, i didn't “i fear that i cannot shape my life over have the stimulus to work as you did, man- again," he said in a cool, even tone and bent dervan. and there are cawder, and oliver, his head. one might say he looked sheepishly and kepple-oliver with his chemical re- at the floor, and yet he gave the strongest im- search. you had nervous prostration, oliver, pression that he was already dead. you drank, you played fast and loose with presently his face, raised above the black- your health, oliver. your morals weren't ness, swayed and sank back beneath the sur- very good-remember that. mine have been face and was lost in oblivion. the leather beyond reproach. give me the credit for that seat of his chair exhaled air, as the weight of -all three of you. kepple's a banker. he'll his body fell back upon it. it resembled an give me some credit. only money? tell expiring breath. me that kepple is joking; don't say that he i turned on the light and met only miss has drawn any damnable distinctions. i'm sheridan's eyes. no deep perception was getting old and it won't do. don't look at needed to see what struggle was going on me that way, old friends-old friends with within her; the last will and testament of distinctions-old friends— " john hepplewhite was crunched up in her he caught at the table, his eyes turning hand and she held it out before her. both loosely. “miss sheridan-mary, my dear- of us knew the question must be decided at a little water, if you please," he whispered. once-on the moment. “or you, sir, can get it for me. i will not “if i destroyed it?” she inquired with trouble you long. you are all very good to compressed lips. me. you will take care of my boy, mary— “there would not be a cent for either of a fine fellow. do not tell him of this matter you. work for him for the son—would —that his father's soul left with no sweat of become a matter of necessity.” i watched life upon it. he must be saved from that. her narrowly. i am sure that her judgment i thank you all very heartily. i have been and her courage never really faltered. her so very, very unhappy.” wet eyes became gradually alive with spirit. the girl rose and put one white, rounded she drew her shoulders back proudly and arm about the old man's shoulders. “can't faced me with half-closed lids and parted lips. we do anything?" she whispered desperately. “i am no weakling!" she cried, after i had “can't we make you more comfortable?" waited long for her voice. "i will make the “no, thank you, dear, except perhaps the son prove that great riches are not fatal to light.” my instincts were acreep beneath great manhood. come, money,” and with my skin, as if he were a snake. “sit down, both her hands she pressed the crumpled will my girl. do you mind turning the light out, against her bosom. the color surged back sir? you understand?” i nodded. his into her cheeks; her voice rang clearly forth: manners were irreproachable to the end. “i am not afraid!” with the snap of the electric button the radi- i led her from the library and down the ance scampered back to the table from the far stairs; i called the son and did the other corners of the library, and was gone; once things necessary when a gentleman dies out more the arc light from the street entered and of his bed. but i rendered no attorney's bill slanted up toward the ceiling. we sat in the to the administrator, inasmuch as, for one thickest blackness, while above us, cut off in reason and another, i felt myself already a definite line of demarcation, was a stratum amply enriched by those keen memories that of misty light. indeed, it was strange that it i have here set down. the judgment of eve by may sinclair author of “ the divine fire," “ two sides of a question," “mr. and mrs. nevill tyson," etc., etc. illustrations by john wolcott adams i saw a ship a-sailing, a-sailing on the sea.-nursery rhyme. merchant's son, or the lawyer's nephew, or the doctor's assistant, or perhaps it would be jt was market-day in queningford. aggie one of those mysterious enthusiasts who some- purcell was wondering whether mr. times came into the neighborhood to study hurst would look in that afternoon at the agriculture. anyhow, it was a foregone con- laurels as he had looked in on other market clusion that each of these doomed young men days. supposing he did, and supposing mr. must pass through miss purcell's door before gatty were to look in, too; why, then, aggie he knocked at any other. said, it would be rather awkward. but pretty aggie was rather a long time in whether awkward for herself, or for mr. making up her mind. it could only be done gatty or mr. hurst, or for all three of them by a slow process of elimination, till the em- together, aggie was unable to explain to her barrassing train of her adorers was finally own satisfaction or her mother's. reduced to two. at the age of five-and- in queningford there were not many twenty (five - and - twenty is not young in suitors for a young lady to choose from, but it queningford) she had only to solve the was understood that, such as there were, comparatively simple problem: whether it aggie purcell would have her pick of them. would be mr. john hurst or mr. arthur the other young ladies were happy enough if gatty. mr. john hurst was a young farmer they could get her leavings. miss purcell of just home from australia, who had bought the laurels was by common consent the high farm, one of the biggest sheep-farming prettiest, the best-dressed, and the best- lands in the cotswolds. mr. arthur gatty mannered of them all. to be sure, she could was a young clerk in a solicitor's office in only be judged by queningford standards; london; he was down at queningford on his and, as the railway nearest to queningford is easter holiday, staying with cousins at the a terminus that leaves the small gray town county bank. both had the merit of being stranded on the borders of the unknown, young men whom miss purcell had never queningford standards are not progressive. seen before. she was so tired of all the young neither are they imitative; for imitation im- men whom she had seen. plies a certain nearness, and between the not that pretty aggie was a flirt, and a jilt, young ladies of queningford and the daughter and a heartless breaker of hearts. she of the county there is an immeasurable void. wouldn't have broken anybody's heart for the the absence of any effective rivalry made whole world; it would have hurt her own too courtship a rather tame and uninteresting much. she had never jilted anybody, be- affair to miss purcell. she had only to make cause she had never permitted herself to be- up her mind whether she would take the wine- come engaged to any of her young men. as the judgment of eve for flirting, pretty aggie couldn't have flirted if she had tried. the manners of quening- ford are not cultivated to that delicate pitch when flirtation becomes a decorative art, and aggie would have esteemed it vulgar. but aggie was very superior and fastidious. she wanted things that no young man in quen- ingford would ever be able to offer her. aggie had longings for music better than queningford's best, for beautiful pictures, and for poetry. she had come across these things at school. and now, at five-and-twenty, she couldn't procure one of them for herself. the arts were not encouraged by her family, and she only had an “allowance” on condition that she would spend it honorably in clothes. of course, at five-and-twenty, she knew all the "pieces” and songs that her friends knew, and they knew all hers. she had read all the romantic fiction in the lending library, and all queningford would have considered that a young lady who could do so much had done enough to prove her possession of brains. not that queningford had ever wanted her to prove it; its young men, at any rate, very much preferred that she should leave her brains and theirs alone. and aggie had brains enough to be aware of this; and being a very well-behaved young lady, and anxious to please, she had never mentioned any of her small achievements. nature, safeguarding her own interests, had whispered to aggie that young ladies who live in queningford are better without intellects that show. now, john hurst was sadly akin to the young men of queningford, in that he was unable to offer her any of the things which, aggie felt, belonged to the finer part of her that she dared not show. on the other hand, he could give her (besides himself) a good " john," site said suddenly. "did you ever kill a pig?" whes wollen adaus the works of light popular science, and still lighter and more popular theology, besides borrowing all the readable books from the vicarage. she had exhausted queningford. it had no more to give her. income, a good house, a horse to ride, and a trap to drive in. to marry him, as her mother pointed out to her, would be almost as good as "getting in with the county." not that mrs. purcell offered this as an in- everybody's magazine ducement. she merely threw it out as a was full of beautiful thoughts, whereas vague contribution to the subject. aggie john's head was full of nothing in particular. didn't care a rap about the county, as her then, mr. gatty's eyes were large and mother might have known; but, though she spiritual; yes, spiritual was the word for them. john's eyes were small and-well, spiritual would never be the word for them. then, all of a sudden, without anybody's advice, john was elimi- nated, too. it was not aggie's do- ing. in fact, he may be said to have eliminated himself. it hap- pened in this way: mr. hurst had been taking tea with aggie one market-day. the others were all out, and he had the field to himself. she always re- membered just how he looked when he did it. he was standing on the white mohair rug in the drawing- over their cocoa he developed his theory of life. room and was running his fingers through his hair for the third time. wouldn't have owned it, she had been he had been telling her how he had first taken attracted by john's personal appearance. up sheep-farming in australia, how he'd been glancing out of the parlor window she could a farm-hand before that in california, how see what a gentleman he looked, as he crossed he'd always set his mind on that one thing- the market-place in his tweed suit, cloth cap, sheep-farming. because he had been born and leather gaiters. he always had the right and bred in the cotswolds. aggie's dark-blue clothes. when high collars were the fashion eyes were fixed on him, serious and intent. he wore them very high. his rivals said that that flattered him, and the gods, for his un- this superstitious reverence for fashion sug- doing, dowered him with a disastrous fluency. gested a revulsion from a past of prehistoric savagery. mr. gatty, on the other hand, had a soul that was higher than any collar. that, aggie maintained, was why he always wore the wrong sort. there was no wrong thing mr. gatty could have worn that aggie would not have found an excuse for; so assiduously did he minister to the finer part of her. he shared all her tastes. if she admired a picture, or a piece of music, or a book, mr. gatty had admired it ever since he was old enough to admire anything. she was sure that he admired her more for admiring them. she wasn't obliged to hide those things from mr. gatty; besides, what would have been the use? there was nothing in the soul of aggie that mr. gatty had not found out and understood, and she felt that there would be no limit to his understanding. but what she liked best about him was his gentleness. she had never seen any young man so gentle as mr. gatty. and his face was every bit as nice as john's. jonni www nicer, for it was excessively refined, and john's wasn't. you could see that his head the baby nearly choke with laughter. "quack, quacki" said arthur, and it made the judgment of eve he had a way of thrusting out his jaw when young arthur gatty, winged by some he talked, and aggie noticed the singular divine intuition, called at the laurels the next determination of his chin. it was so power- afternoon. the gods were good to young ful as to be almost brutal. arthur; they breathed upon (the same could certainly him the spirit of refinement not be said of mr. gatty's.) and an indestructible gentle- then, in the light of his ness that day. there was reminiscences, a dreadful no jarring note in him. he thought came to her. rang all golden to aggie's “john,” she said suddenly, testing touch. “did you ever kill a pig?” when he had gone a great he answered absently, as calm settled upon her. it was his way when directly was all so simple now. no- addressed: body was left but arthur “a pig? yes, i've killed gatty. she had just got to one or two in california.” make up her mind about she drew back in her him — which would take a chair; but, as she still gazed little time—and then either at him, he went on, well she was a happy married pleased: woman or, said aggie coyly, "i can't tell you much a still happier old maid in about california. it was in queningford forever. australia i learned sheep- it was surprising how lit- farming.” tle the alternative distressed “so, of course,” said her. aggie frigidly, "you killed sheep, too?” it was the last week in “for our own consumption april, and mr. gatty's easter —yes." holiday was near its end. he said it a little haughtily. on the monday, very early he wished her to under- in the morning, the young stand the difference between clerk would leave quening- a grazier and a butcher. ford for town. "and lambs? little by friday his manner had lambs?” jurno bivind chat women become, as susie purcell ex- “well, yes. i'm afraid the she listened without a scruple, pressed it, “so marked” that little lambs had to go, too, justified by her motherhood. the most inexperienced young sometimes." lady could have suffered no “how could you? how could you?” doubt as to the nature of his affections. but “how could i? well, you see, i just had no sooner had aggie heard that he was go- to. i couldn't shirk when the other fellows ing than she had begun to doubt, and had didn't. in time, you get not to mind.” kept on doubting (horribly) up to saturday “not to mind?” morning. all friday she had been bother- “well, i never exactly enjoyed doing it.” ing susie. did susie think there was any “no. but you did it. and you didn't one in town whom he was in a hurry to get mind.” back to? did susie think such a man as she saw him steeped in butcheries, in the mr. gatty could think twice about a girl like blood of little lambs, and her tender heart her? did susie think he only thought her a revolted against him. she tried to persuade forward little minx? or did she think he herself that it was the lambs she minded most. really was beginning to care? and susie but it was the pig she minded. there was said: “you goose! how do i know, if you something so low about killing a pig. it don't? he hasn't said anything to me.” seemed to mark him. and on saturday morning aggie all but and it was marked, stained abominably, knew. for that day he asked permission to that he went from her presence. he said to take her for a drive, having borrowed a trap himself, “i've dished myself now with my for the purpose. silly jabber.” they went up to a northern slope of the everybody's magazine cotswolds, and during the drive arthur afterward without thinking of him. a day found a moment when with a solemnity im- that was not only all wall-flowers and violets, paired by extreme nervousness, he asked but all arthur. for arthur called first thing miss purcell if she would accept a copy of before breakfast to bring her the browning, browning's poems, which he had ventured and first thing after breakfast to go with her to order for her from town. he hadn't to church, and first thing after dinner to take brought it with him, because he wished to her for a walk. multiply pretexts for calling; besides, as he they went into the low-lying queningford said, he didn't know whether she would fields beside the river. they took the brown- really care- ing with them; arthur carried it under his aggie cared very much, indeed, and proved arm. in his loose gray overcoat and soft hat it by blushing as she said so. she had he looked like a poet himself, or a socialist, or no need now to ask susie anything. she something. he always looked like some- knew. thing. as for aggie, she had never looked aggie's memory retained every detail of prettier than she looked that day. he had the blessed day that followed. a day of spring never known before how big and blue her sunshine, warm with the breath of wall-flowers eyes were, nor that her fawn-colored hair had and violets. arthur, walking in the garden soft webs of gold all over it. she, in her clean with her, was so mixed up with those delicious new clothes, was like a young spring herself, scents that aggie could never smell them all blue and white and green, dawn-rose and john wol ct adama "now, isn't it a pity for you to be going, dearie." john wolcott adams " there isn't an unsweet, unsound spot in one of them." radiant gold. the heart of the young man was quick with love of her. they found a sheltered place for aggie to sit in, while arthur lay at her feet and read aloud to her. he read “abt vogler," “prospice," selections from “the death in the desert" (the day being sunday); and then, with a pause, and a shy turning of the leaves, and a great break in his voice, “o lyric love, half angel and half bird," through to the end. their hearts beat very fast in the silence afterward. he turned to the fly-leaf, where he had in- scribed her name. “i should like to have written something more. may i?” “oh, yes. please write anything you like." and now the awful question for young arthur was: whatever should he write? “with warmest regards” was too warm; “kind regards" was too cold; “good wishes” sounded like christmas or a birthday; “re- membrances” implied that things were at an end instead of a beginning. all these shades, the warmth, the reticence, the inspired au- dacity, might be indicated under the veil of verse. if he dared— "i wish,” said aggie, "you'd write me something of your own." (she knew he did it.) what more could he want than that she should divine him thus? for twenty minutes (he thought they were only seconds) young arthur lay flat on his stomach and brooded over the browning. aggie sat quiet as a mouse, lest the rustle of her gown should break the divine enchant- ment. at last it came. “dear, since you loved this book, it is your own—" that was how it began. long after- ward arthur would turn pale when he thought of how it went on; for it was wonder- ful how bad it was, especially the lines that had to rhyme. he did not know it when he gave her back the book. she read it over and over again, seeing how bad it was and not caring. for her the everybody's magazine beginning, middle, and end of that delicate feverishly at shorthand in order to increase lyric were in the one word, “dear.” his efficiency. his efficiency increased, but “do you mind?” he had risen and was not his salary. standing over her as she read. meanwhile, he spent all his holidays at “mind?” queningford, and aggie had been twice to “what i've called you?”. town. they saw so little of each other that she looked up suddenly and his face met every meeting was a divine event, a spiritual hers. adventure. if each was not exactly an un- “ah,” said arthur, rising solemn from the discovered country to the other, there was consecration of the primal kiss, and drawing always some territory left over from last time, himself up like a man for the first time aware endlessly alluring to the pilgrim lover. of his full stature, “that makes that seem wherever arthur found in aggie's mind a pretty poor stuff, doesn't it?” little bare spot that needed cultivating, he young arthur had just looked upon love planted there a picture or a poem, that in- himself, and for that moment his vision was stantly took root, and began to bloom as it purged of vanity. had never (to his eyes) bloomed in any other “not browning?" asked aggie a little anx- soil. aggie, for her part, yielded all the iously. treasure of her little kingdom as tribute to “no. not browning. me. browning the empire that had won her. could write poetry. i can't. i know that many things were uncertain, the rise of now." arthur's salary among them, but of one thing and she knew it, too; but that made no they were sure, that they would lead the difference. it was not for his poetry she loved intellectual life together. whatever hap- him. pened, they would keep it up. “and so,” said her mother, after arthur they were keeping it up as late as august had stayed for tea and supper, and said his year, when arthur came down for the bank good-by, and gone, holiday. he was “so that's the man still enthusiastic, you've been waiting but uncertainty had for all this time?” dimmed his hope. “yes, that's the marriage had be- man i've been wait- come a magnificent ing for,” said aggie. phantasm, super- three days later imposed upon a queningford knew dream, a purely sup- that aggie was go- posititious rise of ing to marry arthur salary. the pros- gatty, and that pect had removed john hurst was go- itself so far in time ing to marry susie. that it had parted susie was not with its substance, pretty; but she had like an object re- eyes like aggie's. tired modestly into space. after all, susie they were walk- was married before ing together in the her eldest sister; for queningford fields, joms holonna aggie had to wait when arthur till arthur's salary thoughts came to him, terrible thoughts. stopped suddenly rose. he thought and turned to her. it was going to rise at midsummer, or if not “aggie," he said, “supposing, after all, we at midsummer, then at lady day. but mid- can never marry?” summer and lady day passed, christmas “well,” said aggie calmly, “if we don't, and easter, too, and arthur's salary showed we shall still lead our real life together.” no sign of rising. he daren't tell aggie that “but how, if we're separated?” he had been obliged to leave off reading the “it would go on just the same. but we classics in the evenings, and was working shan't be separated. i shall get something to the judgment of eve do in town and live there. i'll be a clerk, or she turned on him the face of one risen go into a shop or something." rosy from the embraces of her dream. she “my darling, that would never do.” put a hand on each of his shoulders, and “wouldn't it, though!” looked at him with shining eyes. “i couldn't let you do it.” “oh, arthur dear, it's all too beautiful. i “why ever not? we should see each other couldn't say anything, because i was so every evening, and every saturday and sun- happy. come, and let's look at everything day. we should always be learning some- all over again." thing new, and learning it together. we and they went, and looked at everything should have a heavenly time.” all over again, reviving the delight that had but arthur shook his head sadly. “it gone to the furnishing of that innocent in- wouldn't work, my sweetheart. we aren't terior. she cried out with joy over the cheap made like that.” art serges, the brown-paper backgrounds, the "i am,” said aggie stoutly, and there was blue-and-gray drugget, the oak chairs with silence. their rush bottoms, the burne-jones photo- “anyhow,” she said presently, “whatever gravures, the "hope" and the “love leading happens, we're not going to let it drop.” life" and the “love triumphant." their "rather not,” said he with incorruptible home would be the home of a material pov- enthusiasm. erty, but to aggie's mind it was also a shrine then, just because he had left off thinking whose austere beauty sheltered the priceless about it, he was told that in the autumn of spiritual ideal. that year he might expect a rise. their wedded ardor flamed when he showed and in the autumn they were married.. her for the tenth time his wonderful con- aggie left the sweet gardens, the white trivance for multiplying book-shelves, as their roads and green fields of queningford, to live treasures accumulated year by year. they in a side street in camden town, in a creak- spoke with confidence of a day when the ing little villa, built of sulphurous yellow shelves would reach from floor to ceiling, to brick, furred with soot. meet the inevitable expansion of the in- they had come back from their brilliant tellectual life. fortnight on the south coast, and were stand- they went out that very evening to a ing together in the atrocious bow-window of lecture on “appearance and reality," an their little sitting-room, looking out on the inspiring lecture. they lived in it again street. a thick gray rain was falling, and a (sitting over their cocoa in the tiny dining- dust-cart was in sight. room), each kindling the other with the same "aggie,” he said, “i'm afraid you'll miss sacred flame. she gazed with adoration at the country.” his thin, flushed face, as, illumined by the she said nothing; she was lost in thought. lecture, he developed with excitement his "it looks rather a brute of a place, doesn't theory of life. it? but it won't be so bad when the rain “only think,” he said, "how people wreck clears off. and you know, dear, there are the their lives, just because they don't know the museums and picture-galleries in town, and difference between appearance and reality. there'll be the concerts, and lectures on all now we do know. we're poor; but we don't sorts of interesting subjects, two or three times care a rap, because we know, you and i, that a week. then there's our debating society that doesn't matter. it's the immaterial that at hampstead-just a few of us who meet matters." together to discuss big questions. every spiritually he flamed. month it meets, and you'll get to know all the “i wouldn't change with my boss, though intellectual people ” he's got five thousand a year. he's a slave- aggie nodded her head at each exciting a slave to his carriage and horses, a slave to item of the program, as he reeled it off. his his house, a slave to the office " heart smote him; he felt that he hadn't pre- “so are you. you work hard enough.” pared her properly for camden town. he “i work harder than he does. but i keep thought she was mourning the first perishing myself detached.” of her illusions. "some more cocoa, dearie?” his voice fell humbly. “and i really “rather. yes, three lumps, please. just think, in time, you know, you won't find it think what we can get out of life, you and i, quite so bad.” with our tiny income. we get what we put everybody's magazine into it-and that's something literally price. the intellectual life had lapsed; but only less, and we mustn't let it go. whatever for a period. not for a moment could they happens we must stick to it.' contemplate its entire extinction. it was to "nothing can take it away from us,” said be resumed with imperishable energy later aggie, rapt in her dream. on; they had pledged themselves to that. “no; no outside thing can. but, aggie- meanwhile, they had got beyond the stage we can take it from each other, if we let our when aggie would call to her husband a selves get slack. whatever we do,” he said dozen times a day, “oh, arthur, look! if solemnly, “we mustn't get slack. we must you poke him in the cheek like that, he'll keep it up." smile." “yes,” said aggie, "we must keep it up.” and arthur would poke him in the cheek, they had pledged themselves to that. very gently, and say, “why, i never! what heavens, how they kept it up! all through a rum little beggar he is. he's got some the winter evenings, when they were not go tremendous joke against us, you bet.” ing to lectures, they were reading browning and a dialogue like this would follow: aloud to each other. for pure love of it, “oh, arthur, look, look, look at his little for its own sake, they said. but did aggie feet!” tire on that high way, she kept it up for ar- “i say, do you think you ought to squeeze thur's sake; did arthur flag, he kept it up him like that?” for hers. “oh, he doesn't mind. he likes it. then, in the spring, there came a time doesn't he? my beauty, my bird!” when aggie couldn't go to lectures any more. “he'll have blue eyes, aggie." arthur went, and brought her back the gist "no, they'll change; they always do. and of them, lest she should feel herself utterly his nose is just like yours." cut off. the intellectual life had, even for “i only wish i had his head of hair." him, become something of a struggle. but, it was a terrible day for arthur when the tired as he sometimes was, she made him baby's head of hair began to come off, till go, sending, as it were, her knight into the aggie told him it always did that, and would battle. grow again. “because now,” she said, "we shall have to-day they were celebrating the first birth- to keep it up more than ever. for them, you day of the little son. at supper that night a know." solemn thought came to aggie. i saw a ship a-sailing, a-sailing on the sea, “oh, arthur, only think. on arty's next and it was full of pretty things for baby and for birthday" (they had been practising calling me. him “ arty” for the last fortnight)“ he won't aggie always sang that song the same be a baby any more.” way. when she sang "for baby” she gave “never mind; arty's little sister will be the baby a little squeeze that made him laugh; having her first birthday very soon after." when she sang “for me” she gave arthur a aggie blushed and smiled. she hadn't little look that made him smile. thought of that. but how sad it would be for poor baby not to be the baby any more. there were raisins in the cabin, sugared kisses in the hold, arthur gave an anxious glance at aggie in her evening blouse. his mind was not set (here the baby was kissed crescendo, pres- so high but that he liked to see his pretty tissimo, till he laughed more than ever.) wife wearing pretty gowns. and some of the money that was to have gone to the buy- the sails were made of silver and the masts were ing of books had passed over to the gay made of gold. the captain was a duck, and he cried drapers of camden town and holloway. “you know what it means, dear? we “quack, quack!” said arthur. it was shall have to live more carefully.” daddy's part in the great play, and it made “oh, yes, of course i know that." . the baby nearly choke with laughter. “do you mind?” arthur was on the floor, in a posture of “mind?” she didn't know what he was solemn adoration somewhat out of keeping talking about, but she gave a sad foreboding with his utterances. glance at the well-appointed supper-table, “oh, baby!” cried aggie, “what times where coffee and mutton-chops had succeeded we'll have when daddy's ship comes home.” cocoa. for arthur had had a rise of salary everybody's magazine the magazine he was trying to read, not be- cause it interested him in the least, but be- cause it helped to keep the noises out. but the children were clamoring for an encore. “again, again!" they cried; "oh, mummy, do do it again!” “hsh-sh-sh. daddy's reading.” and aggie drew the children closer to her, and went on with the rhyme in her sad weak whisper. “if you must read aloud to them, for good- ness' sake speak up and have done with it. i can't stand that whispering." aggie put down the picture-book, and arty seized one half and catty the other, and they tugged, till catty let go and hit arty, and arty hit catty back again, and catty howled. “can't you keep those children quiet?” “oh, arty, shame! to hurt your little sister!” at that arty howled louder than catty. arthur sat up in his chair. “leave the room, sir! clear out this in- stant!” his weak face looked weaker in its inappropriate assumption of command. "do you hear what i say, sir?" arty stopped crying, and steadied his quivering infant mouth till it expressed his invincible determination. “i'll g-g-g-go for mummy. but i w-w-w- won't go for daddy. i doeshn't 'ike him.” “hsh-sh-poor daddy-he's so tired. run away to the nursery, darlings, all of you.” “i can't think why on earth you have them down here at this time,” said their father, as the door slammed behind the last retreating child. “my dear, you said yourself it's the only time you have for seeing them. i'm sure you don't get much of them." “i get a great deal too much sometimes.” “if we only had a big place for them to run about in--" “what's the use of talking about things we haven't got and never shall have? is supper ready?" she raised herself heavily from her sofa and went to see, trailing an old shawl after her. arthur, by way of being useful, put his foot upon the shawl as it went by. after supper he felt decidedly better, and was inclined to talk. “i met davidson this morning in the city. he said his wife hadn't seen you for an age. why don't you go and look her up?" aggie was silent. “you can't expect her to be always running after you." “i can't run after her, i assure you. i haven't the strength.” “you used,” he said reproachfully, “to be strong enough." aggie's mouth twisted into a blanched, un- happy smile—a smile born of wisdom and of patience and of pain. “my dear, you don't know what it is to have had six children.” “oh, don't i? i know enough not to want any more of them." “well—then—” said aggie. but arthur's eyes evaded her imploring and pathetic gaze. he turned the subject back to mrs. davidson. a clumsy shift. “anyhow, it doesn't take much strength to call on mrs. davidson, does it?” “it's no good. i can't think of anything to say to her.” "oh, come, she isn't difficult to get on with." “no, but i am. i don't know why it is i always feel so stupid now." "that,” said arthur, “is because you haven't kept it up." “i haven't had the time," she wailed. “time? oh, rubbish, you should make time. it doesn't do to let things go like that. think of the children.” “it's because i'm always thinking of them.” they rose from their poor repast. (coffee and mutton-chops had vanished from the board, and another period of cocoa had set in.) he picked up her shawl that had dropped again, and placed it about her shoulders, and they dragged themselves mournfully back into their sitting-room. she took up her place on the sofa. he dropped into the arm-chair, where he sat motionless, looking dully at the fire. his wife watched him with her faded tender eyes. “arthur," she said suddenly, “it's the first meeting of the society to-night. did you forget?” they had never admitted, to them- selves or to each other, that they had given it up. “yes,” said arthur peevishly, “of course i forgot. how on earth did you expect me to remember?” “i think you ought to go, dear, sometimes. you never went all last winter." “i know." “isn't it a pity not to try a little—just—to keep it up? if it's only for the children's sake.” “my dear aggie, it's for the children's the judgment of eve sake—and yours—that i fag my brain out, as it is. when you've been as hard at it as i've been, all day, you don't feel so very like turning out again-not for that sort of in- tellectual game. you say you feel stupid in the afternoon. what do you suppose i feel like in the evening?" his accents cut aggie to the heart. “oh, my dear, i know. i only thought it might do you good, sometimes to get a change; if it's only from me and my stupidity." "if there's one thing. i hate more than an- other," said arthur, “it is a change." she knew it. that had been her conso- lation. arthur was not as the race of dream. ers to which he once seemed to have be- longed. there was in him a dumb, undying fidelity to the tried and chosen. from the first, before this apathy came on him, he had hardly ever left her to an evening by herself. he had had neither eyes nor ears nor vcice for any other woman. and though her 'nce had become the face of another woman, and he hated changes, she knew that it had never changed for him. he loved her more than any of the six children she had borne him. “after all,” said aggie, “do you think it really matters?” “do i think what matters?”. “what we've lost.” he looked suspiciously at her, his heavy brain stirred by some foreboding of uncom- fortable suggestion; she had been thinking of barbara, perhaps. “i don't know what you mean." he didn't. the flame in the woman's heart was not wholly dead, because he had kindled it, and it was one with her love of him. the dream they had dreamed together had lived on for her, first as an agony, then as a regret. but the man had passed over into the sensual darkness that is seldom pierced by pain. of the pleasures that had once borne hin, buoyant and triumphant, on the crest of the wave, none were left but such sad earthly wrecizage as life flings up at the ebbing of the spiritual tide. they had come to the dark shores, where, if the captain wavers, the ships of dream founder with all their freight. a dull light was already kindling under his tired eyelids. “i don't know what you feel like," said he, “but i've had enough sitting up for one night. don't you think you'd better go to bed?” she went, obediently. a year passed. it was winter again, and the gattys had had sickness in their house. aggie had been ailing ever since the birth of the baby that had succeeded emmy. and one evening the doctor had to be summoned for little willie, who had croup. willie, not four years old, was the last baby but three. yes, he was only a baby himself; aggie re- alized it with anguish, as she undressed him and he lay convulsed on her lap. he was only a baby; and she had left him to run about with arty and catty, as if he were a big boy. she should have taken more care of willie. but the gods took care of willie, and he was better before the doctor could arrive; and aggie got all the credit of his cure. aggie couldn't believe it. she was con- vinced the doctor was keeping something from her; he sat so long with arthur in the dining-room. she could hear their voices booming up the chimney, as she mended the fire in the nursery overhead. it was not, she argued, as if he ever cared to talk to arthur. nobody ever cared to talk to ar- thur long, nor did he care to talk to anybody. so when the clock struck seven (the doc- tor's dinner-hour), and the dining-room door did not open, aggie's anxiety became terror, and she stole down-stairs. she had meant to go boldly in, and not stand there listening; but she caught one emphatic word that ar- rested her, and held her there, intent, afraid of her own terror. “never!" she could hear arthur's weak voice sharp- ened to a falsetto, as if he, too, were terrified. “no, never. never any more." there was a note almost of judgment in the doctor's voice; but aggie could not hear that, for the wild cry that went up in her heart. “oh, never what? is willie-my willie-never to be well any more?” then she listened without a scruple, justi- fied by her motherhood. they were keeping things from her, as they had kept them be- fore-as they had kept them when little barbara sickened. “and if-if-” arthur's voice was weaker this time; it had a sort of moral powerless- ness in it; but aggie's straining ears caught the “if." “there mustn't be any 'ifs.”” aggie's heart struggled in the clutches of her fright. “that's not what i mean. i meanis there any danger now?" everybody's magazine “from what i can gather so far i should “my beauty," she murmured, “he will al- say--none." ways be my baby. he shan't have any little aggie's heart gave a great bound of re- brothers or sisters, never any more. there covery. —there—there, did they? hsh-sh-sh, my “but if,” the doctor went on, “as you sweet pet, my lamb. my little king-he say— " shall never be dethroned. hush, hush, my “i know,” cried arthur, “you needn't say treasure, or he'll wake his poor daddy, he it. you won't answer for the consequences?” will.”. “i won't. for the consequences, a woman in another room, on his sleepless pillow, -in the weak state your wife is in-may an- the baby's father turned and groaned. swer herself. with her life.” all the next day, and the next, aggie went aggie was immensely relieved. so they about with a light step, and with eyes that were only talking about her all the time! brightened like a bride's, because of the that night her husband told her that her spring of new love in her heart. release had come. it had been ordained that it came over her now how right arthur had she was to rest for two years. and she was been, how she ought to have kept it up, and to have help. they must have a girl. how fearfully she had let it go. "arthur,” she said firmly, “i won't have not only the lectures (what did they mat- a girl. they're worse than charwomen. ter?), but her reading, her music, everything, they eat more; and we can't afford it.” all the little arts and refinements by which “we must afford it. and oh, another she had once captured arthur's heart- thing— have you ever thought of the chil- “things,” she said, “that made all the dif- dren's education?" ference to arthur.” how forbearing and thought of it? she had thought of noth- constant he had been! ing else, lying awake at night, waiting for that evening she dressed her hair, and put the baby's cry; sitting in the daytime, stitch- flowers on the supper-table. arthur opened ing at the small garments that were always his eyes at the unusual appearance, but said just too small. nothing. she could see that he was cross :“of course," she said submissively. she about something something that had oc- was willing to yield the glory of the idea to curred in the office, probably. she had never him. grudged him his outbursts of irritability. it “well,” he said, “i don't know how we're was his only dissipation. aggie had always going to manage it. one thing i do know- congratulated herself on being married to a there mustn't be any more of them. i can't good man. afford it.” coffee, the beloved luxury they had so long he had said that before so often that aggie renounced, was served with that supper. had felt inclined to tell him that she couldn't but neither of them drank it. arthur said afford it either. but to-night she was silent, he wasn't going to be kept awake two nights for he didn't know she knew. and as she running, and after that aggie's heart was saw that he (who did know) was trying to too sore to eat or drink anything. he com- spare her, she blessed him in her heart. mented bitterly on the waste. he said he if he did not tell her everything that the wondered how on earth they were going to doctor had said, he told her that willie was pay the doctor's bills, at that rate. all right. willie had been declared to be a aggie pondered. he had lain awake all child of powerful health. they weren't to night, thinking of the doctor's bills, had he? coddle him. as if any one had coddled him! and yet that was just what they were to have poor aggie only wished she had the time. no more of. anyhow, he had been kept but now that her release had come, she awake; and, of course, that was enough to would have time, and strength, too, for many make him irritable. things that she had had to leave undone. so aggie thought she would soothe him to she would get nearer to her children and to sleep. she remembered how he used to go her husband, too. even at four o'clock in to sleep sometimes in the evenings when she the morning, aggie had joy in spite of her played. and the music, she reflected with mortal weariness, as she rocked the sleepless her bitterness, would cost nothing. baby on the sad breast that had never suckled but music, good music, costs more than him. she told the baby all about it, because anything; and arthur was fastidious. ag- she couldn't keep it in. gie's fingers had grown stiff, and their touch the judgment of eve had lost its tenderness. of their old tricks “poor aggie,” he said, “poor little woman.” they remembered nothing, except to stumble she lifted her head suddenly. at a “stretchy" chord, a perfect bullfinch of “it's poor you,” she whispered,“ poor, poor a chord, bristling with accidentals, where in dear.” their youth they had been apt to shy. ar- thur groaned. “oh, lord, there won't be a “now, isn't it a pity for you to be going, wink of sleep for either of us if you wake dearie? when the place is doing you so much that brat again. what on earth possesses good, and susie back in another week, and you to strum?" all.” but aggie was bent, just for the old love of aggie folded up a child's frock with great it, and for a little obstinacy, on conquering deliberation, and pressed it, gently but firmly, that chord. into the portmanteau. “oh, stop it!” he cried. “can't you find “i must go," she said gravely. “arthur something better to do?” wants me.” “yes,” said aggie, trying to keep her mouth mrs. purcell was looking on with un- from working, "perhaps i could find some feigned grief at her daughter's preparations thing.” for departure. aggie had gone down to arthur looked up at her from under his queningford, not for a flying visit, but to eyebrows, and was ashamed. spend the greater part of the autumn. she she thought still of what she could do for and arthur had had to abandon some of the him; and an inspiration came. he had al arrangements they had planned together; and, ways loved to listen to her reading. her though he had still insisted in general terms voice had not suffered as her fingers had; and on aggie's two years' rest, the details had there, in its old place on the shelf, was the been left to her. thus it happened that a browning he had given her. year of the rest-cure had hardly rolled by “would you like me to read to you?" before aggie had broken down in a way that “yes,” he said, "if you're not too tired.” had filled them both with the gravest anxieties he was touched by the face he had seen, and for the future. for if she broke down when by her pathetic efforts; but oh, he thought, if she was resting, what would she do when the she would only understand. two years were up, and things had to be more she seated herself in the old place opposite or less as they were before? aggie was so him, and read from where the book fell open frightened this time that she was glad to be of its own accord. packed off to her mother, with willie and dick and emmy and the baby. the“ girls," , lyric love, half angel and half bird. kate and eliza, had looked after them, while her voice came stammering like a child's, aggie lay back in the warm lap of luxury, and choked with tenderness and many memories. rested for once in her married life. all aggie's visits had ended in the same and all a wonder and a wild desire . way. the same letter from home, the same “oh, no, i say, for heaven's sake, aggie, firm and simple statement, “arthur wants me, not that rot.” i must go," and aggie was gone before they “you—you used to like it.” had had a look at her. “oh, i dare say, years ago. i can't stand “john and susie will be quite offended.” it now." “i can't help it. arthur comes before “can't stand it?" john and susie, and he wants me.” again he was softened. she had always been proud of that-his “can't understand it, perhaps, my dear. wanting her; his inability to do without her. but it comes to the same thing." “i don't know," she said, “what he will “yes,” said aggie, “it comes to the same have done without me all this time.” thing." her mother looked at her sharply, a look and she read no more. for the first time, that, though outwardly concentrated on for many years, she understood him. aggie, suggested much inward criticism of that night, as they parted, he did not draw aggie's husband. her to him and kiss her; but he let her tired “he must learn to do without you," she head lean toward him and stroked her hair. said severely. her eyes filled with tears. she laid her fore- “i'm not sure that i want him to," said head on his shoulder. aggie, and smiled. everybody's magazine her mother submitted with a heavy heart. one he was wearing, and she was afraid to let “my dear,” she whispered, “if you had it go another day, lest the wind should turn married john hurst we shouldn't have had round to the northeast again. in such anxi- to say good-by." eties aggie moved and had her being. for “i wouldn't have taken him from susie for the rest she had given the little maid a lesson the world,” said aggie grimly. she knew in the proper way of showing mrs. john that her mother had never liked poor arthur. hurst into the room when she arrived. this knowledge prevented her from being mrs. john hurst arrived a little late. she sufficiently grateful to john for always leaving came in unannounced (for her appearance his trap (the trap that was once to have been had taken the little maid's breath away); she hers) at her disposal. it was waiting to take came with a certain rustle and sweep which her to the station now. was much more important than anything aggie had only seen her sister, mrs. john susie had ever done in the old days when hurst, once since they had both married. aggie was the pretty one. whenever aggie was in queningford john aggie was moved at seeing her. she and susie were in switzerland, on the honey uttered a cry of affection and delight, and moon, that for the happy, prosperous couple gave herself to susie's open arms. renewed itself every year. “darling!” said mrs. john hurst. “let this year it was agreed that when the me have a good look at you." hursts came up to islington for the grand she kissed her violently, held her at arm's horse show, they were to be put up at the length for a moment, and then kissed her gattys' in camden town. again, very gently. in that moment aggie aggie was excited and a little alarmed at the had looked at susie, and susie at aggie, each prospect of this visit. susie was accustomed trying to master the meaning of the other's to having everything very nice and comfort face. it was susie who understood first. able about her, and she would be critical of prosperity was very becoming to susie. she the villa and its ways. and then, it would be was the pretty one now, and she knew it. awkward seeing john. she smiled. it almarriage had done for her what maidenhood ways had been awkward seeing john. had done for her sister, and susie was the but when the spring came a new terror was image of what aggie used to be. added to aggie's hospitable anxiety, a new but aggie herself! nothing was left now embarrassment to the general awkwardness of of the diminutive distinction that had caused seeing john. her once to be adored in queningford. susie after all, the hursts put up at a hotel in was young at two-and-thirty, and aggie, not town. but susie was to come over for tea three years older, was middle-aged. not that and a long talk with aggie, john following there were many wrinkles on aggie's face. later. only a deep crescent line on each side of a aggie prepared with many tremors for the mouth that looked as if it had been strained meeting with her sister. she made herself tight with many tortures. it was as if quite sick and faint in her long battling with nature had conceived a grudge against aggie, her hair. she had so little time for “doing” and strove, through maternity, to stamp out it, that it had become very difficult to "do," her features as an individual. and, when it was “done,” she said to herself “poor darling,” said susie under her that it looked abominable her fingers shook breath. as they strained at the hooks of the shabby a moment later aggie turned away, found gown that was her “best.” she had found the old coat she had been lining, and spread somewhere a muslin scarf, that, knotted and it on her lap. susie's eye roamed and rested twined with desperate ingenuity, produced on the coat, and aggie's followed it. something of the effect that she desired. “do excuse my going on with this. ar- up-stairs in the nursery, catty, very wise thur wants it.” for six years old, was minding the baby, while susie smiled in recognition of the familiar the little nervous maid got tea ready. aggie phrase. ever since he had first appeared in sat in the drawing-room waiting for her sister. queningford, arthur had always been want- even as she waited she dared not be idle. ing something. but, as she looked at the there was an old coat of arthur's that she poor coat, she reflected that one thing he had been lining, taking advantage of a change had never wanted, or had never asked for, to milder weather; it was warmer than the and that was help. the judgment of eve me." "aggie,” she said, "i do hope that if you “there are very few who can say that." ever want a little help, dear, you'll come to aggie tried to throw a ring of robust con- gratulation into her flat tones. susie, preoccupied with the idea of liberal- “very few. but there's no one like him.” ity, could not see that she had chosen her “no one like you, either, i should say." moment badly. her offer, going as it did, “well, for him there isn't. he's never had hand in hand with her glance, reflected upon eyes for any one but me, never." arthur. aggie cast down her eyes demurely at that. “i don't want any help, thank you,” said she had no desire to hurt susie by reminding aggie. “arthur's doing very well now. her of the facts. but susie, being sensitive very well, indeed.” on the subject, had provided for all that. “then,” said susie, “why on earth do “of course, dear, i know, just at first, he you break your back over that stitching, if thought of you—a fancy. he told me all there's no need? that's not my notion of about it; and how you wouldn't have him, he economy." said. he said he thought you didn't think susie vas a kind-hearted woman, but nine him gentle enough. that shows how much years' solid comfort and prosperity had you knew about him, my dear.” blunted her perceptions. moreover, she had "i should always have supposed," said an earnestly practical mind, a mind for which aggie coldly, “he would be gentle to any one material considerations outweighed every he cared for." .. other. she knew, and susie knew, that she had “my dear susie, your notion of economy supposed the very opposite; but she wished would be the same as mine, if you had had susie to understand that john had been re- seven children.” jected with full realization of his virtues, be- “but i haven't,” said susie sadly. she cause, good as he was, somebody else was was humbled by the rebuff she had just re- still better. so that there might be no sus- ceived. “i only wish i had.” picion of regret. aggie looked up from her work with a re- “gentle? why, aggie, if that was what morseful tenderness in her tired eyes. she you wanted, he's as gentle as a woman. and was sorry for poor susie, who had lost her there aren't many women, i can tell you, only child. who have the strength that goes with his but susie had already regretted her mo- gentleness.” mentary weakness, and her pride was up. aggie bent her head lower yet over her she was a primitive woman, and had always work. she thought she could see in susie's feared lest reproach should lie upon her speech a critical and vindictive intention. among the mothers of many children. be- all the time she had, aggie thought, been sides, she had never forgotten that her john choosing her words judicially, so that each had loved aggie first. aggie, with her seven unnecessary eulogy of john should strike at children, should not set her down as a woman some weak spot in poor arthur. she felt that slighted by her husband. susie was not above paying off her john's old “i haven't had the strength for it,” said scores by an oblique and cowardly blow at the she; and aggie winced. “the doctor told man who had supplanted him. she wished john i mustn't have more than the one. and that susie would either leave off talking about i haven't had.” john, or go. poor aggie hardened her face before su- but susie still interpreted aggie's looks as a sie's eyes, for she felt that they were spying challenge, and the hymn of praise swelled on. out and judging her. and susie, seeing that “my dear-if john wasn't an angel of set look, remembered how badly aggie had goodness and unselfishness- when i think once behaved to her john. therefore she how useless i am to him, and of all that he was tempted to extol him. has done for me, and all that he has given “but then," said she magnificently, “i up—-" have my husband.” (as if aggie hadn't aggie was trembling. she drew up the hers!) “nobody knows what john is but coat to shelter her. me. do you know, there hasn't been one “-why, it makes my blood boil to think unkind word passed between us, nor one that any one should know him and not know cross look, ever since he married me eight what he is.” years ago.” aggie dropped the coat in her agitation. everybody's magazine as she stooped to pick it up, susie put out an procession of three golden-haired couples, anxious arm to help her. holding each other's hands. first, arty and their eyes met. emmy, then catty and baby, then willie “oh, aggie, dear," said susie. it was and dick, all solemn and shy. baby turned all she could say. and her voice had in it his back on the strange aunt and burrowed consternation and reproach. into his mother's lap. they were all silent but aggie faced her. but dick. dick wanted to know if his auntie “well?” she said steadily. liked birfdays, and if people gave her fings “oh, nothing—" it was susie's turn for on her birfday; pausing to simulate a delicate confusion. “only you said-and we thought irrelevance before he announced that his -after what you've been told— ” birfday was to-morrow. “what was i told?” “dickie dear,” said his mother nervously, horror overcame susie, and she lost her "we don't talk about our birthdays before head. they've come.” “ weren't you told, then?” she could not bear susie to be able to say her horror was reflected in her sister's eyes. that one of her children had given so gross a but aggie kept calm. hint. “susie,” she said, “what do you mean? the children pressed round her, and her that i wasn't told of the risk? is that what hands were soon at their proud and anxious you meant?” work; coaxing stray curls into their place; “oh, aggie" susie was helpless. she proving the strength of the little arms; could not say what she had meant, nor slipping a sock, to show the marbled rose of whether she had really meant it. the round limbs. “who should be told if i wasn't? surely i “just feel emmy's legs. she's as firm as was the proper person?". firm. and look at baby, how beautifully he's susie recovered herself. “of course, dearmade. they're all healthy. there isn't an of course you were.” unsweet, unsound spot in one of them.” “well?" aggie forced the word again “no, no, they look it. they're magnifi- through her tight, strained lips. cent. and they're you all over again.” “i'm not blaming you, aggie dear. i “barbara wasn't. she was the very im- know it isn't your fault.” age of her father.” her love of him con- "whose is it, then?” quered the stubborn silence of her grief, so susie's soft face hardened, and she said that she did not shrink from the beloved nothing. name. her silence lay between them; silence that “susie,” she said, when the little proces- had in it a throbbing heart of things un- sion had, at its own petition, filed solemnly utterable; silence that was an accusation, a out again, "you can't say you've seen too judgment of the man that aggie loved. much of them.” then aggie turned, and in her immortal susie smiled sadly as she looked at the loyalty she lied. wreck that was poor aggie. “no, my dear; “i never told him.” . but i haven't seen quite enough of you. “never told him? oh, my dear, you were there isn't much left of you, you know.” very wrong.” “me?” she paused; and then broke out “why should i? he was ill. it would again, triumphant in her justification: “no have worried him. it worried me less to matter if there's nothing left of me. they're keep it to myself.” alive.” "but-the risk?" she raised her head. worn out and “oh,” said aggie sublimely, “we all take broken down she might be; but she was it. some of us don't know. i did. that's the mother of superb children. something all.” stronger and more beautiful than her lost she drew a deep breath of relief and satis youth flamed in her as she vindicated her faction. for four months, ever since she had motherhood. she struck even susie's dull known that some such scene as this must imagination as wonderful. come, she had known that she would meet it half an hour later aggie bent her aching in this way. back again over her work. she had turned “hush,” she said. “i think i hear the a stiff set face to susie as she parted from children.” they came in, a pathetic little her. john had come and gone, and it had the judgment of eve not been awkward in the least. he was kind at camden town as the mammon of un- and courteous (time and prosperity had im- righteousness. the brother had a big house proved him), but he had, as susie said, no down in kent; and into that house, though eyes for any one but his wife. it was the house of mammon, arthur pro- as aggie worked she was assailed by many posed that he should be received for a week thoughts and many memories. out of the or two. he took care to mention, casually, past there rose a sublime and patient face. and by way of a jest after the brother's own it smiled at her above a butchery of little heart, that, for those weeks, he, arthur, would lambs. be a lonely widower. yes, susie was right about her john. the brother was in the habit of remember- there was no weak spot in him. he had not ing arthur's existence once a year, at christ- a great intellect; but he had a great heart and mas. he would have had him down often a great will. aggie remembered how once, enough, he said, if the poor beggar could in her thoughtful maiden days, she had read have come alone. but he barred aggie and in one of the vicar's books a saying, which the children. aggie, poor dear, was a bore; had struck her at the time, for the vicar had and the children, six, by jove (or was it underlined it twice: “if there is aught spir- seven?), were just seven (or was it six?) itual in man, it is the will.” she had not blanked nuisances. though uncertain about thought of john as a very spiritual person. the number of the children, he always sent she had dimly divined in him the possibility seven or eight presents at christmas, to be of strong passions, such passions as make on the safe side. so when arthur announced shipwreck of men's lives. and here was that he was a widower, the brother, in his arthur-he, poor dear, would never be ship- bachelor home, gave a great roar of genial wrecked, for he hadn't one strong passion in laughter. he saw an opportunity of paying him; he had only a few weak little impulses, off all his debts to arthur in a comparatively incessantly frustrating a will weaker than easy fashion, all at once. them all. she remembered how her little “take him for a fortnight, poor devil? undeveloped soul, with its flutterings and i'd take him for ten fortnights. heavens, strugglings after the immaterial, had been what a relief it must be to get away from repelled by the large presence of the natural “aggie?!”. man. it had been afraid to trust itself to and when arthur got his brother's letter, his strength, lest its wings should suffer for he and aggie were quite sorry that they had it. it had not been afraid to trust itself to ever called him the mammon of unrighteous- arthur; and his weakness had made it a ness. wingless thing, dragged down by the suffering the brother kept good company down in of her body. kent. aggie knew that, in the old abomina- she said to herself, “if i had known john ble queningford phrase, he was "in with the was like that— " county.” she saw her arthur mixing in gay she stopped her brain before it could an- garden scenes, with a cruel spring sun shining swer for her, “you wouldn't be sitting here on the shabby suit that had seen so many now stitching at that coat.” springs. arthur's heart failed him at the last she stitched on till she could see to stitch moment, but aggie did not fail. go he must, no more; for tears came and blinded her eyes, she said. if the brother was the mammon and fell upon the coat. of unrighteousness, all the more, she argued, that was just after she had kissed it. should he be propitiated-for the children's sake (the mammon was too selfish ever to it was easter, three weeks after susie's marry, and there were no other nieces and visit; and arthur was going away for a fort- nephews). she represented the going down night, his first real holiday in seven years. into kent as a sublime act of self-sacrifice, by for some time he had been lengthening out which arthur, as it were, consecrated his his office hours, and increasing his salary, by paternity. she sustained that lofty note till adding night to day. and now he had worn arthur himself was struck with his own sub- himself out by his own ferocious industry. limity. and when she told him to stand up he knew, and aggie knew, that he was in and let her look at him, he stood up, tired as for a bad illness if he didn't get away, and he was, and let her look at him. at once. he had written in his extremity to so, for three days of blinding labor, aggie a bachelor brother, known in the little house applied herself to the propitiation of mam- everybody's magazine mon, the sending forth of her sacrificial lamb, ram good flannels into a filthy boot cup- properly decked for the sacrifice. there board.” never had been such a hauling and overhaul- “i didn't,” said aggie, in a strange unin- ing of clothes, such folding and unfolding, terested voice. “you must have put them such stitching and darning and cleansing there yourself." and pressing, such dragging out and packing he remembered. of heavy portmanteaus, such a getting up of “well,” he said placably, for he was, after shirts that should be irreproachable. all, a just man, “do you think they could be aggie did it all herself; she would trust no made a little cleaner?” one, least of all the laundress. she had only "i—can't_” said aggie in a still stranger faint old visions of john hurst's collars to voice; a voice that sounded as if it were de- guide her; but she was upheld by an immense flected somehow by her bent body, and came belief, born of her will to please, and arthur from another woman rather far away. it by a blind reliance, born of his utter weari- made arthur turn in the doorway and look ness. at times these preparations well-nigh at her. she rose, straightening herself slowly, exasperated him. if going meant all that dragging herself upward from the table with fuss, he said, he'd rather not go. but if both hands. her bleached lips parted; she he had been told that anything would hap- drew in her breath with a quick sound like a pen to prevent his going, he would have sob, and let it out again on a sharp note of sat down and cursed or cried. his nerves pain. clamored for change now; any change from he rushed to her, all his sunken manhood the office and the horrible yellow villa in cam- roused by her bitter, helpless cry. den town. “aggie darling, what is it? are you all of a sudden, at the critical moment, ill?” aggie's energy showed signs of slowing down; “no, no, i'm not ill, i'm only tired," she and it seemed to both of them that she would sobbed, clutching at him with her two hands, never get him off. and swaying where she stood. then, for the first time, he woke to a dreary he took her in his arms and half dragged, interest in the packing. he began to think half carried her from the room. on the nar- of things for himself. he thought of a certain row stairs they paused. suit of flannels which he must take with him, “let me go alone,” she whispered. which aggie hadn't cleaned nor mended, she tried to free herself from his grasp, either. in his weak state it seemed to him failed, and laid her head back on his shoulder that his very going depended on that suit of again; and he lifted her and carried her to flannels. he went about the house, inquir- her bed. ing irritably for it. he didn't know that his he knelt down and took off her shoes. hei voice had grown so fierce in its quality that it sat beside her, supporting her while he let scared the children; nor that he was ordering down her long thin braids of hair. she aggie about like a dog; nor that he was put- looked up at him, and saw that there was ting upon her bowed and patient back bur- still no knowledge in the frightened eyes that dens heavier than it should have borne. he gazed at her; and when he would have un- didn't know what he was doing. fastened the bodice of her gown, she pushed and he did not know why aggie's brain was back his hands and held them. so dull, and her feet were so slow; nor why her “no, no," she whimpered. “go away. hands, which were incessantly doing, seemed go away.” now incapable of doing any one thing right. “aggie " he did not know, because he was stupefied “go away, i tell you." with his own miserable sensations, and aggie “my god!” he moaned, more smitten, had contrived to hide from him what susie's more helpless than she. for, as she turned sharp eyes had discovered. besides, he felt from him, he understood the height and that, in his officially invalid capacity, a cer- depth of her tender perjury. she had meant tain license was permitted him. to spare him for as long as it might be, so, when he found his flannels in the boot because, afterward (she must have felt), cupboard, he came and flung them on to the his own conscience would not be so merci- table where aggie bent over her ironing-board. ful. a feeble fury shook him. he undressed her, handling her with his “nobody but a fool,” he said, “would clumsy gentleness, and laid her in her bed. the judgment of eve he had called the maid; she went bustling “thank god,” she whispered hoarsely, to and fro, loud-footed and wild-eyed. from “that you've always loved me." time to time a cry came from the nursery she struggled with her voice for a moment; where the little ones were left alone. out- and then it came, brave and clear. side, down the street, arty and catty ran “listen, arthur. i wrote to mother three hand in hand to fetch the doctor, their sob- weeks ago. about this. i've made her bing checked by a mastering sense of their think that it was i who wanted the children, service and importance. always, from the very first. she'll under- and the man, more helpless than any child, stand that i couldn't be happy without a baby clung to the woman's hand and waited with in my arms. it is different. they're never her. quite the same after the first year. even as he waited, he looked round the shabby arty wasn't. mother will understand. she room, and saw for the first time how poor a won't be hard.” place it was. nothing seemed to have been she had provided for everything. provided for aggie; nothing ever was pro- if she had not lied— it was her lie that vided for her; she was always providing things proved the extremity of her fear, her fore- for other people. his eyes fastened on the boding. somehow, in the eight years of his madonna di gran duca fading in her frame. married life, he had never seen this ca- he remembered how he had bought it for lamity in front of him. his dreams had aggie seven years ago. aggie lay under the always been of a time when their children madonna, with her eyes closed, making be- should be out in the world, when he should lieve that she slept. but he could see by be walking with his wife in some quiet the fluttering of her eyelids that her spirit country place, like queningford. if she had was awake and restless. not lied - he sought for calm words where- presently she spoke. with to support her; but no words came. he “arthur," she said, “i believe i'm going clutched at the bedclothes. his eyes were to have a nice quiet night after all. but blind with tears, his ears deafened by the when—when the time does come, you're sound of his own pulses. not to worry, do you hear? and you're to in a moment the eight years were unveiled. go away to-morrow, just as if nothing had he had a sudden vision of aggie's incorrupti- happened.” ble love and divine tenderness, before his grief she paused. closed over him. “the flannels,” she said, “shall be washed her eyes were resting upon his. and sent after you. you're not to worry." “i'm not afraid,” she said, “not the least she was providing still. little bit. i'd rather you went away to- “oh, aggie-darling-don't.” morrow. i don't-mind-being left.” “why not? you ought to go to bed, be- but when to-morrow came, it was he who cause you'll have to get up so early to-morrow was left. morning.” he was sitting in the room underneath she closed her eyes, and he watched and aggie's. he had a pen in his hand, and his waited through minutes that were hours. mind was unusually calm and clear. he it seemed to him that it was another man had just telegraphed to his brother that he than he who waited and watched. he couldn't go, because aggie was dead. now was estranged from his former self, the he was trying to write to aggie's mother to tell virtuous, laborious self that he had once her to come, because aggie was dead. known, moving in its dull and desolate rou- he had a great many things to see to, be- tine. thoughts came to him, terrible, cause aggie was dead. abominable thoughts that could never have all at once he raised his head, he listened; occurred to it. he started up with a groan that was a cry, and "it would have been better,” said this new went from the room. self, “if i had been unfaithful to her. that up-stairs in the nursery a child's voice was wouldn't have killed her.” singing: as if she had heard him through some spir- i saw a ship a-sailing, a-sailing on the sea, itual sense, she pressed his hand and an- and it was full of pretty things for baby- swered him. and for me, orealis mcgoogin and the fighting wallaby by broughton brandenburg illustrations by horace taylor there!” observed limpy hawes as he a connectin' cord, anyway. i jest now turned away from the stunned canvas- menshuned the name mcgoogin-pore old man, who was slowly crawling out from under orealis mcgoogin, the finest little specimen the parrot wagon where the old trainer's of real red-headed irish ire i ever seen. his mighty fist had sent him in a heap. “there! name mebbe was pat, or it might 'a' been you will steal my rub-down alcohol, will you? dennis or terry, but no one knowed, for he go 'long to the canteen and git some real got his name orealis the first day he jined. licker, you rascally stake-pounder. drinkin' “ye see he was green as grass but was up the dope for the camel's rheumatiz! say, makin' a bluff, specially about critters. says you pig-brained son of a weak-minded goat, doc smith to him: if anybody asts ye, that was a wallaby "now there is some strange and delikit wallop i give you. next time i ketch you in animals with this show. i bet you never even the critter tent, i'll hand you the mcgoogin heard of an aurora borealis.' poke. now, git out and mind that.” "oi niver hard iv wan iv thim?' says he. i looked at the veteran's face as he sat down ‘me respicted sir, whoile a-huntin' out west beside me. there was a hard light in his oi've shot more orealis thin oi've fingers and eyes, but no other sign of anger did he show, toes, and that same is the livin' truth.' though he had whipped razzle fogarty “so they called him orealis then and there- soundly a moment before. not even the tone from. but i'm a-goin' too fast, for in this of his voice was changed. i understood some yarn about orealis and the wallaby, the thing of his mastery over the men of the show. wallaby comes first. none of them but dreaded his knuckles. “the old man's nephew artie had been what had interested me most was the short, off snoopin' around where he could spend the sharp, infighting blow that had sent fogarty most axpense money and show the least re- down and out. it was new to me, and, i sults in new attrackshuns, as usual, and this assumed, was what the veteran meant by particklar time when the dang young dude the wallaby wallop. and what was the showed up he brung an austraylian kangaroo. mcgoogin poke? i knew better than to ask, this was so fur back that they didn' call 'em but i ventured a lead on the wallop. kangaroos yet, though, an' this one was the "that new one is a good right-handed first that ever come into the show. he was blow," i said. a big feller, seven foot six from tip to tip, “new one? my boy, that punch is as old an’ artie'd picked him up in singapore off o' as you be." some british sailor man who had larnt him there was a five minutes' silence; then he how to box and fight with the little gloves sent his quid hurtling over the backs of the they wore them days. he'd got so he could elephant herd and i realized with joy that i go a heap sight faster with his two fists than had provoked one of his rare tales. the sailor man could with both of his 'n' a “old staplinghan says, 'don't rouse me club, and they wanted to sell him. ire,'” he began. “rafferty says, “don't “they called him sockdolager, and i tell wake up me irish. they both mean one ye what, he was a socker too. you had to and the same. ire and irish. if they didn' hit him jest onct on the ear and then, by the name the one for the tother, by heck, there's jumps o’ juno, you had to be keerful and orealis mcgoogin and the fighting wallaby سا کے pick out the soft spots to fall down on; and you had to look out to keep him from breakin' your shins with his tail, too. you know slicker allen and doc smith ain't neither one no slouches with the gloves, and the day after artie fetched him to us in evansville, indiany, we cleared the smallest round dressin’-tent- all sod under foot it was—and turned sockie loose in there with a pair of five-ouncers on his paws. by gosh a’mighty, he chased early jim butts up the center pole in forty seconds, broke a rib for nonesuch rafferty, and slicker allen and doc smith had all they could do to stay two rounds apiece. “by judas,' says doc when he come out, 'we got to have a per-fessional. “well, we hit cincinnaty the next day, and jest before the parade the old man calls the performers, critter wallopers, and razor- backs together and says: “boys, i want a first-class poogilist to stack up agin my new fightin' wallaby, the comin' greatest at- trackshun in this or any other show in this or any other country. pass the word along when ye're down- town to-day and we'll see if we can scare one out of the tall ohier grass.' “well, sir, there wasn' no results by the time the afternoon performancegot goin', but about six o'clock that evenin' jiggers dolman, bein' about half sweet-pickled in red-eye, come up from down-town and says he'd found a man, the champeen of all the west. “champeen pie eater?' says the old man sarcasticish. "no, honest, champeen light weight.' “what's his name?' “mcgoogin.' “that's the right brand,' says the old man. “go down an' bring him up. “now, ye see times warn’t jest the liveliest in cincinnaty, and, as come out in the second bilin' of this wash, orealis mcgoogin had been out of a job so long that a silver dollar looked as big to him as a pearl-handled dish- pan. he was willin' for anythin', but drivin’ pigs in ireland and a coal cart in cincinnaty was the limit of his edgekashun in the higher branches of enlightenment. he was irish, though, as i s'pose you've guessed. “when he was standin' at one end of a bar on lower walnut street he hears jiggers dolman, who was standin' at the t'other, sayin' to the mixer-man: “d'ye know of a a no. , first-class poogilistic gent that wants a job at ten dollars a day fightin' a ferocious wild animal one- fourth rabbit, one-fourth mule, and two- thirds john l. sullivan? he can hit ye and then jump six foot in the air. say, do ye?' "oi do thot,' says mcgoogin, comin' up. “and where is he?' “shure, you're lookin' at 'im.' “jiggers looks at the size of 'im. "and who are you?' “champeen mcgoogin, unconquisted loight weight of the wist,' says the irish- man, makin' a few passes in the air and dancin' around some. “is that straight?' says jiggers to the barkeep. “the barkeep, not knowin' nothin,' but bein' agreeable, by nature of his business, to anythin' that didn' cost nothin', says: “sure, i've never seen him whipped.' “the same, was true. “well, now, mc- googin,' says jiggers, who couldn'fight a tame clothes-rack, 'don't take no offense at what i say. i'm your friend. but you're durned little, and goldurned worse lookin'—now, now, now, wait till i get through your charms of face is something like those of a mildewed red punkin-whoa-up-stay where you are jest a minnit-but i'm goin' to git you the job. it's with the circus and i'm goin' back to the lot and see the old man. you be around here to-night.' “i've told you that the old man said to vot "artie'd picked him up in singapore off o' some british sailor max." everybody's magazine $ skeerce. bring up mcgoogin. well, sir, jiggers went you'll come purt' near pickin’a man when you down and got him after supper. i was out see one. the minnit i laid my two eyes on by the ticket wagon after the crowd had gone orealis i knowed that jiggers dolman had in and jest then the two of 'em showed up. fetched to the circus-trouble--yes, sir-ee- the irishman looked like his car- trouble ripe and ready to drop penters had struck when he's. for somebody. but i got to about fourteen. but he was full work. we had to rig up a of spring and bounce. his hair sort of a round cage with pads and beard was about the color on the bars for the two to git of one of them tangerine oranges together in and orealis had and he had little shiny blue eyes to git a costume. he wouldn' same as one of them lay-me-down- cut his pink whiskers, but it to-sleep dolls. his teeth resembled didn’ make much difference horse-corn on the cob and he shut them days, smooth faces bein' his mouth over them as if they was hard to git all in. 'peared “the next day was sunday as though he done it with a draw and the cage bein' ready, i string. he come walkin' up like gets slicker allen, who was a bantam rooster, his stummick goin' to do the barkin', and stuck out, his hat on one ear and jiggers dolman, an' while his two hairy paws made into fists. everybody else was takin' a “the old man, doc smith, and mornin' off down-town and some more of the staff, was standin' there out on the river steamboats, we three sets up when jiggers dolman fetched in his cham- the cage and gets ready to give the fightin' peen. wallaby and champeen mcgoogin their first “this is him, sir,' says jiggers; 'this is rehearsal. i found an old pair of tights for mister mcgoogin.' orealis that was a dang sight too big for him. “well, sir, in about ten minnits they had he kept a-swellin' out tryin' to fill 'em till he's named him orealis, signed him, scheduled red in the face. we was in the center of the him and the fightin' wallaby for the side big animal tent, the four of us all alone by show, and turned him over to me to edgecate ourselves in the echoin' solitude, with the crit- in show larnin'. ters lookin' on. slicker was backin' the kan- “sufferin' jews, ain't he ugly!' says the garoo's box up so as to let him into the old man. “but he looks like he can fight. cage, while jiggers and i was fixin' ory and well, if he can, all right-and if he can't puttin' on his gloves. he took one look at well-all right,' and he grins and goes inside. them, then he says: “now, my boy, when you been handlin' a "bejee, misther hawes, now how the bunch o' critter wallopers as long as i have, divvle kin oi spit in me ha-ands? “jiggers give me one pitchus look, and purty soon he pulled me one side. "this is awful,' he groaned. “somethin' told me he'd never had 'em on before. don't tell the boys, limpy, don't tell the boys. be- sides, the little red-headed fake has borried twenty dollars off me. i been a friend of yours a long time, limpy. don't tell the old man. you won't see me stuck, now will ye, limpy? let's keep him in the game till pay night. i don't care if he gets seven different colors o' black an' blue before that. but keep him in.' “i thunk it over and said i would. slicker ladn’ heard, an' i didn’ say nothin' to him; i ’uz askeered i'd bust 'f i tried to say any- thin' to anybody. “we let sock into the cage and tied his gloves on. "he chased early jim butts up the center pole." orealis mcgoogin and the fighting wallaby “ory looked at him a minnit; then he sweet and bow. understand? “he will walked clost up to the cage and looked at him now defy danger and dare death-before your agin. eyes.” then you step back. i open the cage “ is thot the baste?' door. you jump in. jump in, you red- “that's the great boxer,' says i. headed whisper of a real man. right you "and phwat may be the name iv it?' says are. bing! i shut the door as if i ’uz afraid he, wettin' his lips as if they's dry. the critter would git out. now you can do "the great fightin' wallaby, named the rest. say, limpy, i want-a go down- sockdolager,' says i. town and i'm past all my part; you and “he watched him jumpin' around the jiggers can finish up.' cage for a minnit. "he'd got orealis inside and now away he ««« wallaby!' says he. ‘an' phwat do oi do went. to him?' “durn lucky for you,' says i to jiggers. “jiggers looked like he was goin' to cry. “the champeen mcgoogin, when he seen “you git in there, put up your dukes, and the door was shut an’ locked and the kangaroo box with him till the a-sittin' up like a gong rings. you rabbit clean on the must fight him hard.' t'other side, squares "oh, yis, oi see, off and begins hittin' oi foight him and smashin' the air ha-ard. oh, yis, oi and jumpin' side- will foight him ways. mebbe he had dommed hard, thot's seen a boxin' match phwat oi do to him. onct. he kep' it up an' say, misther about a minnit, then hawes, phwat will i hollers: he do to me?' “say, you ain't .gosh only s'posed to try to scare knows,' says i. him to death. go “are ye ready, over an' hit 'im.' mcgoogin?' yells “he dances a kind slicker allen. “all of a sailor's horn- right. git up here. pipe, makin' a reg'- now s'pose this is lar buzz-saw out of the platform out in his dukes, all the time front. i'll open up whistlin' through his like this: teeth and edgin' " "oh - hoy! oh- ; nearder and nearder hoy! blood - stirrin' the wallaby, who battle betwixt man didn'know jest what and a boundin', to make of this kind batterin', boxin' "i found an old pair of tights for orealis that o'thing. purty soon beast. champeen the irishman got mcgoogin and the square in front of wonderful wallo pin' wallaby. mcgoogin is the critter and—bing!—he swung one on the the victor in a thousand sangweenary set-toes beast that landed him agin the bars, smash! in slashing style. he has whipped”-say, bang! he hit him in the neck agin, right mcgoogin, who have ye whipped? and left, and the poor thing turned a summer- “oh,' says ory, careless like, 'most annysault and started away around the cage six wan ye'd loike to minshun.' foot at a jump, goin' "wenk! wenk! wenk!' "the dirty little liar,' says jiggers to me. “by gosh aʼmighty, orealis had toted “shut up,' says i. his bluff clean on to the wallaby. round "all right,” slicker allen goes on, “i'll and round they goes. give 'em a string of names and line out the “come back here, yez injy-rubber alliga- wallaby's prevyus career and then i'll say: tor or whativer yez be. oi'll “wink” yez,' "" ladies and gents, i beg to present the yells ory. 'come back and foight loike a peerless cham peen mcgoogin.” you smile man.' was a dang sight too big for him." ill - - - - tak " and started round the cage six feet at a jump, goin' wenk! wenk! wenk!'" “run the t'other way and ye'll meet him, and tuesday. he really figgered he could i shouts, but jest then the wallaby lept up on whip most anythin' and seemed kind o the bars and stuck there, and orealis was peevish with hisself for not havin' found it out cussin' 'im and double-darin' 'im to come sooner. he didn' act nasty, kep' his mouth down and all that, when the old man himself 'shut, and minded his own bizzness, but tak’ stuck his head inside. m' oath, when he'd come walkin' inta the “great! great!' says he, ‘old sock has chuck tent with one o' the old man's cigars met his match, eh, limpy? stop it, mc- in his mouth and swingin' a gold-headed cane googin; remember it's only a poor dumb ani that he said his cincinnaty follerers had give mal you're fightin' with your superior skill.' him for farewell, he's the finest imitayshun o' “superior skill! oh, my golly! hell-on-a-trolley i ever see. “i gets mcgoogin out. he was still “well, sir, indianapolis got what no other boilin' with scrappin'-steam. town ever got. the old king kept me purty “mebbe you'd like to have a little spendin' busy, he bein' off his feed, and i only got money before we leave cincy,' says the old away when i heard slicker allen barkin' like man. "come over and i'll give ye a week's a erie bass freight whistle. advance.' "oh-hoy! oh-hoy! behold the blood- “and away they went. stirrin' battle betwixt the boldest of bravos “you go git your twenty,' says i to jiggers and a boundin’, batterin', boxin' beast! "oh, my crismus,' says jiggers, shakin' “by the time i got out and round to 'em, his head, jest s'posin' he'd hit the wallaby he had told 'em all about the kangaroo and on the ear and got him mad, wouldn' it 'a' was introducin' orealis: been awful?' “ladies and gents, permit me to present “as i said before, you go git your twenty to your flattered attention the unconquered now,' says i. champeen mcgoogin, holder of the light- “well, sir, the old man was tellin' doc weight title of the west. the man who smith and everybody how he seen champeen whipped ryan, roberts, ransom, regan, mcgoogin finish off the kangaroo and how reedy, ruddles, robinson, smith, simmons, the irishman was the ackshul reality; so that samson, solomon, sturges, thomas, tabbits, let jiggers out. the old man orders spe tertus, trumper, tyding, andand-no one cial advertisin' in the indianapolis papers, knows how many others. oh, the man seein' as how we'd be there wednesday and whose mighty fist can fell an ox, whose orealis's costume would be ready so the coursing courage crowds his chest, champeen could make his dayboo. nobody whose eagle eye unerring espies his knowed the real works but jiggers and me, enemies' embarrassment — oh, ladies and i never seen any man git the respect out and gents—the dashing, daring champeen the show that that irishman done monday mcgoogin. orealis mcgoogin and the fighting wallaby sara - - -. away he went gallopin' around the areny. after him goes mcgoogin hot foot, with the crowd yellin', 'shame! shame! fake! fake! crool! crool! “hey! hey! mcgoogin! mcgoogin! this ain't no foot race,' hollers the old man, so mad he couldn't stand still. “mcgoogin slowed up and the wallaby squatted clear acrost from him on the t'other side. "wenk! wenk!' he says, lookin' around for a hole. “hit 'im on the ear,' says i quiet-like to mcgoogin. “orealis fiddles over slow, still a-whistlin' through his teeth, and then makes a quick jump and rap! rap! hits the kangaroo twict on the right ear. “my gosh aʼmighty! my boy, my boy, that critter pushed out with both gloves, his hind feet off the ground and only his tail touchin’and, tak’m' oath, mcgoogin lit clean over in front. up he got, irish ire a-poppin' out all over; and, zippity zing! he goes back at sockie, and i never in all my life see such fast and hard hittin' as them two done, fightin', fightin' all over the place, give and take, until the mick banged the critter's head agin the bars and then sockie handed him that short cross jab i give fogarty awhile ago and, as the hymn feller says: “in hallered rest he laid him down, the peace that noble efforts crown.' "come back here, yez injy-rubber alligator.'" “now bow and smile, durn ye,' says slicker betwixt his teeth. orealis, in a tight fittin' green suit, with his hair plastered down with pomade and white shoes on his feet, steps forward, crooks his knees like a man dippin' for a low bridge and smiles. i don't want-a say that word, but i want ye to know what i mean and i can't tell ye what it looked like “now he will boldly brave the dire dangers of this dreadful encounter.' “he swings open the door and in pops orealis. i thought i smelt a familiar breath and turned around. the old man had come up beside me to see how things went. “the wallaby set up jest like a rat in a corner, his eyes shinin' and watchful. when he seen that mick in the shamrock green suit, he give one pitiful ‘wenk!'and crowded back agin the bars. he knowed orealis and was skeered of him, by heck, he was skeered of him. “don't be crool to the critter, mcgoogin,' says the old man, as the dirty little bluffer come a-jiggin' around in clost to us, his head down, whistlin' in that funny way through his teeth, his fists goin' and a no-hope-for-ye look in his eye. “one, two, three, and the champeen makes a rush like a bull pup after a cat, and smash! biff! bang! swat! he hit the wallaby twict in the neck and twict in the stummick before the poor critter could git up his dukes. “too durn perfessional. reckon i better git an amateur,' says the old man. “wenk! wenk!' says sockie, tryin' to git out backward through the bars. “smack! bing! orealis jabbed him twict in the chest. that was too much for sockie. ir ani 'st " with one o' the old man's cigars in his mouth." everybody's magazine “they got the door open in a hurry and carried him out before the kangaroo could begin pulverizin' him with his tail or shearin' off any souvenirs with his scissor teeth. fists the giant couldn't stay more'n three minnits, and twict-onct in richmond, onct in savannay~we had to haul him out o' the cage. "that winter the old man farmed the kangaroo out to variety, and he was stacked up agin all the best boxers round new york, philadelphy, and boston, and he come back in the spring jest a plumb rip-snorter. he was a mighty handy blacksmith and he knowed it. it cost the old man three hun- dred a week to git kid ryan to leave the stage 'n' come go 'long to hold that dang hop- pin' devil down for two minnits. 'course it paid, the people goin' jest plumb crazy over the fight. “well, sir, 'long in july ryan resigned, sayin' he was sick, and i guess he was. the great billy smith took his place, and it was nip-and-tuck betwixt him an' the wallaby. “one day, somewhere, no one never re- membered where, ole hoss georges was short-handed with the razorbacks, and a feller come along and ole hoss put him on haulin' canvas and poundin' stakes. “say, limpy,' says ole hoss to me that night as we's turnin' in, 'i got a wonder in my gang. he don't show his lines till you look at him twict. he ain't got nothin' to say but he's jest plumb tarnation on the job. he outworked everybody two to one to-day and "the old man jest stood still and made his remarks." “the old man jest stood still where he was and made his remarks. tak' m' oath, i've seen him burn the paint offen the side of a buildin' with his langwidge, but this time he jest put out a line of impromptu angel- chasers that made the sparks come out o' my hair same as out of a cat's back. oh, it was awful, awful, and my nerves is purty strong, ar rrrrizor too. “well, sir, 'course they was a small irish- man goin' down-town after a while with a towel around his head and his ears burnin' on the subject of light-weight champeenships and that kind o'glory. and now i got-ta take a little jump in my yarn—to git to the real part of it, which is pertainin' to the irish and irishness. "i took the wallaby in hand after that and i watched him clost till i had that wallop down fine. i got a great big six-foot-six pennsylvany railroader that'd done some fightin', and seein' as how he had arms on him like a rang-atang, he could outreach sockie. sailin' under the name of mcgoogin, he finished the season, goin' in and stayin' up agin the kangaroo for five minnits. come september, sockie was gittin' so wise with his “he's jest an animal and i hate to hit him."" -- . va hannes aylor hung: iz baz “bing! biff! bing! they passes 'em back and forth." he moves like a kitten, he's that smooth and an animal and i hate to hit him.' 'he's got easy. i tell ye he's a wonder.' too much brace with that tail.' 'i don't “aw, shucks,' says i, 'what's he doin' in want-a be crool,' and so on, they says, but i the stake 'n' chain line if he's such a much?' knowed durn well every one of 'em was glad "well, you come around and look him to git away. three days in one week the over. you'll see.' wallaby was out of the bill and fourth day "jest out o' curiousness i did go round ole hoss comes to the old man and says: the next mornin'. the lad—his name was "i got a feller named henry in my gang, henry-didn' look much at first peek. he sir, that reckons he can stay in the areny a was sawed off and foolish-lookin', but i couple o' rounds with sock to-day if you want noticed he jest stuck out in lumps in the right him. places under his dirty old clothes. his head “what! a razorback with this show was cropped over bare to the skin and he willin' to fight that critter! well, i'll be wore a big black mustache, one o' these reg'lar blamed! put ’im in and we'll see some fun.' umbrellas fer yer chin. i watched him goin' “well, sir, that afternoon the old man about not sayin' nothin' to nobody and i seen comes by and tells me to come along, and we how easy and clever he handled everythin' goes out. we's a little late and i didn'hear and how he swung a stake sledge, and i slicker allen's announcement, but jest step- reckoned ole hoss was right. says i: pin' into the cage was that feller henry. “i hain't had the pleasure of meetin' mr. he was in a plain black suit o'tights, and i tell henry in a soschul way, but let me tell ye, ye what, it was a fine show of muscular de- ole hoss, him an' me are goin' to be friends, velopment. he stepped in quiet and easy. if i've got my say, when we do meet.' old sockie was growsin' around the t'other “well, sir, henry never had no trouble side o' the cage payin' no attention, he bein' with nobody nor nothin'. he never said two dead tired of lickin' new bruisers every day. words a day, but there warn't a man in the all to onct he set up listenin' an' then he show but what give him all the room he jumped around. henry was whistlin' soft needed. nobody ever seen him show any through his teeth. sockie didn' like that. sign of fight, but he'd 'a' had unanimous maybe it made him think how orealis had backin', by heck, if he'd ever said 'boo. bluffed him more'n a year before. anyhow, “jest about now the wallaby broke billy he squares off and looks nasty, and henry smith's jaw, and there wasn't no pug uglies edges up to him. we could pick up any place that'd stay for “biff! the razorback hit the wallaby more'n one fight with the critter. “he don't right plumb on the ear, and was back out of know nothin' about the rules.' 'he's just reach so quick you could hardly see it. sock everybody's magazine give one of his big jumps at henry, but the “dom yez. yez will be tryin' your man wasn't there and sock got a jim dandy in owstralian wallops on your betters. oi've the neck from the side for his trouble. taught yez the mcgoogin poke now. how “great! great!' says the old man. “jest d'ye loike it?' ' a common razorback, too.' “mcgoogin! mcgoogin!'hollers the old “bing! biff! bing! they passes 'em back and man. 'what do you know about mcgoogin?' forth, jumpin', side-steppin', and racin' 'crost, "wid the koindly assistance of a little around and 'crost. sockie was jest crazy trainin' and a bit iv hair-dye on me mustache, and was gittin' the worst of it all the time, but oi am hinnery mcgoogin, champeen loight- kep' a pushin' into the mix-up. he had got weight iv the unoited sta-ates, bejee. oi've so used to lickin' all creation he couldn' licked 'em all but him and now he's off me understand it. now they was fair in the moind.' center of the areny and all of a sudden henry “by jingy hickles! it was mcgoogin- stoops a little and pokes in and up like a we didn' call him orealis this time—and cannon-shot. over goes the wallaby—tail what's more, he really was champeen light- or no tail to brace him-and he lit agin the weight, under another name. we looked pads. there he wobbled a minnit, then he him up careful, rememberin' how he'd bluffed begun to holler, 'wenk! wenk! wenk!' and us before. went a-staggerin', jumpin' away around the “well, sir, no money'd keep him with the cage. show. but it's plain to me his actshul aim “licked, by thunder!' says the old man. had been to git fit to lick sockie and he'd jest “say, wasn' that a peach of a poke? that's got to be champeen kind o' on the side. a new one. that man kin stay right with us well, that's the irish of it. havin' got his if he wants to.' aim, he kind o' dropped back and prosperity “henry was waitin' to see if sock would was too much for him. somebody licked come back at him, but he didn', so he says in him next year and i suppose he's keepin' bar thick irish as he fires his gloves at the pore some place now-or maybe drivin' a coal- critter: cart in cincinnati.” oro iii nuuwww tes mih, oi've taught yi:z the mcgoogin poke now." real naturalists on nature faking by edward b. clark editor's note.-president roosevelt's quoted comments on nature fakers, in the june everybody's, provoked a heated controversy. in this the president did not intend to take any part, except to append a note on the subject to a forthcoming volume of his public papers. but, upon being informed that everybody's meant to continue the discussion by presenting a symposium of the opinions of established naturalists on nature faking, he decided to publish the projected note in these columns, as a contribution to the controversy. the sym- posium, which precedes president roosevelt's article on “nature fakers," is made up of the opinions of men who are the most eminent working naturalists in america, and whose positions at the head of our leading scientific institutions, together with their practical work, give to their statements indubitable authority. in an interview given to me and published misrepresentations of the fake natural history in everybody's magazine for june, writers. the recent article in everybody's president roosevelt asserted that some of the magazine expresses my sentiments and those of stories of certain nature writers, although my naturalist friends. heretofore the actual working naturalists whose lives have been spent vouched for by them as the truth, were fiction mainly in the trained observation of animal life, rather than fact. the retort from one of the have scarcely been heard from in this contro- criticized was that the president was no nat- versy. in view of the outrageous character of uralist and therefore had no right to sit in the claims set up by the fakers, it seems to me judgment. mr. roosevelt, however, is a that a kind of symposium of the opinions of naturalist, the best kind of a naturalist, for working naturalists on the subject of the long his studies have been followed in the field and style of natural history would be of some service not in the closet. reiteration of this state in putting the matter on its proper basis. i have may be useless for the men who deny consulted various naturalist friends, and they probably will stick to their denials. there are coincide, and express a willingness to furnish material for such a set of statements. men in the country, however, whose right to be called naturalists is of international record. as a direct result of mr. nelson's letter, some of these naturalists have a word to say the opinions of the men who know nature now about nature faking and nature fakers. as it is have been collected and are herewith what these scientists have set forth here is presented. mr. roosevelt knew nothing of said voluntarily. not long ago, in a new the intention of these working field-students england paper, there appeared a statement to say their word of rebuke to those who from one of the writers who had felt the sting falsify nature's records, until he learned of it of mr. roosevelt's criticism, to the effect that by accident some time after mr. nelson's the president was writing to some of the letter to me was written. ralists of the country to ask from them the contributions from the naturalists are support for his published opposition to nature exhaustive, covering nearly every point in faking. the matter that has been in controversy. i this assertion was absolutely untrue. regret that it is impossible within the space to go straight to the facts in the case, let at command to print these letters in full. me say that, early in june, i received a letter extracts only are given. the belief is that from edward w. nelson, who for nearly they will be found sufficient for their purpose. twenty years has been a field naturalist con- william t. hornaday, director of the new nected with the biological survey. the sci- york zoological park, says: entists of the country know mr. nelson well. in his letter to me he said this: contrary to the rule of indignant naturalists generally, i must say a good word for william j. in common with other american naturalists, i long. his books (of which i have five) have have been much displeased with the persistent furnished me much amusement. his fiction tale na everybody's magazine judges in the case. they proclaim as facts of their own observation statements as impossible as those of mr. long. they attempt thus to de- fend him, but they really show that, while pos- ing as experienced observers, they are not able properly to distinguish the very species of animals they suppose themselves to be writing about-as when in one case a writer attributes to a tree squirrel structural characteristics and habits that pertain only to the ground squirrel. t ouching mr. long's theory of the basis of the opposition of the naturalists to his stories, dr. allen writes: from his point of view, it is due to his success (commercially) as a writer of nature books: his wares, he claims, are forcing theirs out of the market and they are consequently envious and revengeful, and call him bad names to injure him with the great public to which he so successfully appeals. unfortunately for this explanation. the naturalists who have watched the incoming of long with deepest regret and concern, do not write popular books on natural history and are thus in no way his commercial competitors. in their opinion. the long style of nature books is perniciou pernicious; hence and solely, their opposition. of “wayeeses, the white wolf” is on its face nothing but a plain fairy story, and the blunders in it are of little consequence, one way or an- other; but in the other four-modest-looking little school books, selling at forty-eight cents each-he has left “sinbad the sailor” and “baron munchausen” far behind him. whenever mr. long enters the woods, the most marvelous things begin to happen. there is a four-footed wonder-worker behind every bush and a miracle every hour. his animals are of superhuman intelligence, and the “stunts” they do for him surpass all that have been seen by all the real naturalists of the world added together. fether: furthermore, his tongue and pen are so plausible and entertaining that thousands of persons now believe in him and swear that what he says “rings true.” look at l. f. brown of the canadian camp-who writes by the yard about fishing and the woods-writing to the times to indorse long! apparently there is no imaginable intimacy with wild beasts and birds that this gentleman has not struck up. to judge by “wilderness ways," "wood folk at school," “ways of wood folk," and "a little brother to the bear,” only god himself could know the wild creatures as the rev. william j. long claims to know them, and and only the omnipotent eye could see all the things that mr. long claims to have seen. mr. hornaday, in his communication, takes up story after story in mr. long's books and puts each where it belongs, in the realm of fiction. the bear and her cubs; the car- ibou school; cloud wings, the eagle; the woodcock that set its broken leg; the king- fishers that taught their young to catch fish, and others of the wilderness and waterside characters of mr. long's books, are touched upon scientifically, if mercilessly. in closing, mr. hornaday says: in my opinion, any board of education which places w. j. long's books in the schools under its control, or leaves them there after they have found their way in, is recreant to its duty and de- serves severe censure. an unqualified approval of long's books is, in my opinion, a sure index of profound ignorance regarding wild animals, their mental capacities and their ways. dr. j. a. allen, curator of mammalogy and ornithology in the american museum of nat- ural history, new york city, entitles his contribution, "the real and the sham in natural history.” in part dr. allen says: omitting for the moment any reference to the many extraordinary things long has said in his own defense, it has been evident to the naturalist that most of mr. long's defenders show by their own statements their thorough incompetence as edward w. nelson, who spent four years in scientific explorations in alaska, who was the government's scientist accompanying the corwin during her cruise on the arctic search for the jeannette, and who has studied the birds and beasts in nearly every north amer- ican and central american field, calls the writers whom president roosevelt condemned, “the animal novelists." he says: a number of the so-called nature writers have earned the hearty contempt of all naturalists and others who know and love the truth, by their per- sistence in claiming the exact truthfulness of every detail in their exaggerated animal novels. the animal heroes of these tales are often cred- ited with sentiments which exist only among the more cultivated members of the human race. they are credited also with a marvelous degree of wisdom and prowess. even granting the im- possible and accepting the animals as described, there follows the necessity of believing in the equally amazing powers apparently possessed by these writers alone—that of getting at will into the closest and most intimate and prolonged com- panionship with even the shyest of the wood folk. no such birds and beasts as appear in these books have been met by any of my many naturalist and hunting friends nor by myself, in all our wander- ings from arctic to tropic america; and yet the least of these writers must be able, if taken at his word, to find them on almost any vacation inorn- ing. real naturalists on nature faking widely introduced as reading books in public schools, and, knowing the importance of early im- pressions, he believes children should have the truth, and not fiction in the guise of truth. if good stories merely are wanted, we have kipling, and no nature writer, me judice, has succeeded so well as kipling in “ 'er majesty's servants” in apparently looking at the world through the eyes of animals. a man holding an important position in a west- ern school said that although the “humanizers" might be wrong in their statements, he would use their books in teaching natural history on account of their interest. it so happens that this same man is a teacher of history, and one cannot but wonder if he considers that the same rule applies to his own branch of study. personally, “i'd rather not know so much than know so many things that ain't so." move the claims made by the authors of these won der tales of having actually witnessed such re- markable doings, may be accounted for in one of two ways: either the animal novelists have the mystic power of creating about them a wonder- land in which the ordinary birds and beasts be- come gifted beyond the gifts of men, or they are overworking their imaginative powers. ... . the attractive style of some of the writers of false natural history gives their books a wide popu- larity. this renders it the more imperative that all who know the truth and who care for honest nature study or for literary honesty should raise their voices against such writings. dr. c. hart merriam, who has been chief of the united states biological survey since the year , writing on “the rev. w. j. long and his nature fables,” says: after prolonged study, i have at length hit upon what i flatter myself is the real secret of the proc- ess by which w. j. long endows animals with new cunning and new habits. the rev. dr. long is possessed of that rare gift which dr. carroll d. wright called the creative memory. now, the creative memory is not taught in the schools. its germ is inborn and susceptible of development. a nature writer blessed with the creative memory does not have to go about wasting val- uable time waiting and watching for animals to appear and do something. for him it is quite sufficient to walk in the woods or fields until an animal is seen, or, if the animal is shy, until its track or other evidence of its presence is en- countered. he may then hie homeward with the assurance that the creative memory will do the rest. for when he is ready to write, all he has to do is to press his finger on the proper cerebral button and set the creative memory going. this tells him promptly, and with the minutest atten- tion to details, just what the animal did, when, where, and under what circumstances, and what it was thinking about before and afterward. frederick a. lucas, curator-in-chief of the museums of brooklyn institute, uses the word “humanizer" instead of "faker” for the writers of certain kinds of nature books, and discusses the difference between the human izer and the real naturalist. at the close of his article, the brooklyn scientist writes this: “well,” says the reader, "after all, if the writer of nature books does make statements of doubt- ful accuracy, what harm is done?" now in spite of the depravity of the age, of which we read so much in the daily papers, there is a general impression that it is best to tell the truth, and the naturalist merely asks that "nature books" shall present facts, and not give any one's ideas or im- pressions as being facts. he regards this as an important matter, since these books are being barton w. evermann, who is the author of a number of standard works on the fishes of north america and who is in charge of the scientific inquiry department of the united states bureau of fisheries, takes strong exception to several of william j. long's salmon stories. of one of them he says: in the national bureau of fisheries and in various state fish commissions are many fish- culturists and naturalists, men trained in the methods of science and skilled as observers, who have for years been studying the atlantic salmon and the other species of the salmon family. they have studied the adult fish in the streams and on their spawning-beds and have hatched millions upon millions of salmon eggs in fish hatcheries. they have also watched the eggs hatching in the streams and have followed the migrating fish from salt water to their spawning-beds far toward the head-waters of our northern streams. they have camped on these streams for weeks and months solely for the purpose of learning the habits of the salmon, which they watched day and night. ... so regularly and carefully are these ob- servations made and so frequently has each one of them been repeated and verified, that these fish-culturists and naturalists have come to be- lieve that they know fairly well the facts in the life-history of the salmon. but it has remained for mr. long, a man evidently wholly unfamiliar with the methods of science and equally untrained in the methods of accurate observation, to see many things in the life-history of the atlantic salmon which no fish- culturist ever saw or believes to be true. salmon have hitherto not been regarded as possessed of any great amount of wisdom or common sense. yet mr. long has evidently found them otherwise. only a few of the as- tonishing things which his salmon do can be mentioned here. when ascending a stream and encountering a fall, before attempting to ascend everybody's magazine it, they first jump out of the water a few times- simply" to get a good look at the falls” and pick out the best place to make the try, "to study the place and see where they must strike in order to succeed." later, the salmon “springs out, flies in a great arc up to the rim of the falls, just touches the falling sheet, plunges over the brim, and disappears ... into the swift water above." and the place selected was where the “water was thinnest, so that his tail could strike the rock beneath, and, like a bent spring, recoil from under him.” and if, perchance, he knocks off a few scales, and bacteria get into the wound, he at once turns tail and starts for salt water, knowing, wise being that he is, that a salt-water bath will kill the bacteria and heal the wound; and, further, “he feels within him the need of recuperation," that he may have strength to perform the long journey to the sea, so he begins eating everything in sight, a thing which, according to our author, he never does unless injured! on the spawning-bed the female deposits her eggs and the male carefully covers them to “keep the current from washing them away.” fish- culturists have found that the covering of the eggs is a purely incidental result of other acts. then follows a marvelous account of the development of the little salmon in the egg. “beginning his life with hunger, he had first eaten all that was left inside the egg besides himself, and was nibbling at the shell when it broke and let him out. . . . as the egg-shell wavered on his tail he whirled like a wink and swallowed it !” fish-culturists tell us that salmon come out of the egg tail first, not head first, and that they are totally unable to eat until many days after hatching. the salmon that mr. long saw must, indeed, have been an exceptional and remarkable salmon. we are glad william j. long saw it; for if we had seen it, we should not have believed it. but dr. long says that he saw it, and that "every smallest incident is as true as careful and accurate observation can make it." recent tale of the newfoundland wolf will prove amusing, if not instructive. here is what he says: “we came careening in through the tickle of harbor woe. there, in a disconsolate, rock- bound refuge of the newfoundland coast, the wild duck swung to her anchor ... while far away, like a vague shadow, a handful of gray houses hung like barnacles to the base of the great bare hill . . . a long interval of profound silence had passed, and i could just make out the circle of dogs sitting on their tails, on the open shore, when suddenly faint and far away an unearthly howl came rolling down the mountain. ... suddenly noel pointed upward and my eye caught something moving swiftly on the crest of the mountain. a shadow, with the slinking trot of a wolf, glided along the ridge between us and the moon, turned a pointed nose up to the sky, and the terrible howl of the great white wolf tumbled down upon the husky dogs and set them howling as if possessed.” so here we have the keen-eyed doctor, pen in hand, sitting expectantly on the deck of a schooner and telling his readers just how a wolf looked and acted at night, half a mile or more away on the mountain top, behind the fishing village. an owl with a telescope over each eye could not have done better. having looked this midnight wolf over carefully, the doctor then remarks: “this was my first glimpse of wayeeses, the huge white wolf which i had come a thousand miles over land and sea to study.” “all over the long range of the northern peninsula,” he goes on, "i followed him, guided sometimes by rumor, a hunter's story or a postman's fright." since the island of new- foundland is considerably larger than ireland, the idea of hunting a particular wolf by rumor or the aid of letter-carriers smacks of an originality that is most charming. as letter-carriers, wolves, and rumors were then unknown in the interior of newfoundland—the doctor's triple alliance was a strong one. he also tells how wolves round up great flocks of migratory plover; how the wild ducks, over- come with curiosity by the wolves' playful antics on the beach, swim close enough to be seized by these hungry gymnasts; how they catch the wary wild goose at night and “trot back to the woods, each with a burden on his shoulders”; how they chase alleged seals all over the low out- lying reefs, in the broad glare of the sunlight, and how one “big seal tumbled into the tide, where the sharks following his bloody trail soon finished him.” next he writes of a big bull caribou viciously assaulting a band of wolves and tells how they considerately side-step each deadly lunge-because, as the doctor says, “the caribou's time had not come yet: besides he was too tough." from the fleet-winged plover to the tough venison, all this is frenzied fiction, as rare as it is raw. then he writes about the fearful raids made by the wolf upon certain fishing villages in new- foundland and relates how “by night the wolf the following letter is from george shiras, d, who has hunted and photographed ani- mals in michigan and central canada for thirty-six years, and whose ingenuity in se- curing flashlight pictures of wild animals by night has been of great value to naturalists: w. j. long's latest book, “northern trails,” is largely devoted to the wonderful antics of the timber wolf, with newfoundland for its stage. in a long trip through the wild, northwestern portion of newfoundland i saw no signs of wolves and understood from the guides and trappers that they likewise had been unable to find any trace of these animals in recent years. considering this, the beginning of the doctor's “nature fakers" would come stealthily to prowl among the deserted lanes, and the fishermen sitting close by the stoves, behind barred doors, would know nothing of the huge, gaunt figures that flitted noiselessly past frosted windows. if a cat prowled about or an uneasy dog scratched to be let out, there would be a squall, a yelp—and the cat would not come back and the dog would never scratch the door again.” this is really pathetic, and accounts for the “barred doors" of the stove-hugging inhabitants. on the newfoundland coast there reside about , brave, sturdy people, none of whom has ever seen a wolf or even a wolf track in the back yard, though they may have heard of these animals years ago from the lips of the midwinter trapper. the doctor, however, seeks to justify these wolf raids on the domestic pets by telling his readers that midwinter is the season of starvation for the wolf; although in fact, this is the very time when the myriad of caribou in newfoundland would be utterly helpless, when, with the lakes and rivers frozen over, they could not escape the timber wolf if pursued. ninety per cent of the deer killed by wolves meet their fate in midwinter for this very reason. about five hundred american and english sportsmen hunt big game in the island of new- foundland every year, and as none of these has killed a wolf, nor even seen one in recent years, they will unanimously vote that the doctor, having abandoned his degree of d.d., should have con- ferred upon him the new one of p.p.-patron prevaricator-of the ancient order of ananias. “nature fakers"'* by theodore roosevelt in the middle ages there was no hard-and- ceeded best in this respect; as he has not only col- fast line drawn between fact and fiction lected all the fictions into which other writers on the subject have run, but has so greatly improved on even in ordinary history; and until much later them, that little remains to be added to his account there was not even an effort to draw it in nat of the beaver besides a vocabulary of their language, ural history. there are quaint little books a code of their laws, and a sketch of their religion, on beasts, in german and in english, as late to make it the most complete natural history of that animal which can possibly be offered to the public. as the sixteenth century, in which the uni- there cannot be a greater imposition, or indeed corn and the basilisk appear as real creatures; a grosser insult on common understanding, than the while to more commonplace animals there are wish to make us believe the stories (in question] ... ascribed traits and habits of such exceeding a very moderate share of understanding is surely sufficient to guard [any one) against giving credit marvelousness that they ought to make the to such marvelous tales, however smoothly they may souls of the “nature fakers” of these degen be told, or however boldly they may be asserted by erate days swell with envious admiration. the romancing traveler. as real outdoor naturalists, real observers hearne was himself a man who added of nature, grew up, men who went into the greatly to the fund of knowledge about the wilderness to find out the truth, they natu- beasts of the wilderness. we need such rally felt a half-indignant and half-amused observers; much remains to be told about the contempt both for the men who invented wolf and the bear, the lynx and the fisher, the preposterous fiction about wild animals, and moose and the caribou. undoubtedly wild for the credulous stay-at-home people who creatures sometimes show very unexpected accepted such fiction as fact. a century and traits, and individuals among them sometimes a half ago old samuel hearne, the hudson perform fairly startling feats or exhibit totally bay explorer, a keen and trustworthy ob- unlooked-for sides of their characters in their server, while writing of the beaver, spoke as relations with one another and with man. follows of the spiritual predecessors of certain we much need a full study and observation modern writers: of all these animals, undertaken by observers i cannot refrain from smiling when i read the capable of seeing, understanding, and record- accounts of different authors who have written on ing what goes on in the wilderness; and such the economy of these animals, as there seems to be study and observation cannot be made by men a contest between them who shall most exceed in fiction. but the compiler of the “wonders of na- of dull mind and limited power of appreciation. ture and art" seems, in my opinion, to have suc- the highest type of student of nature should * special copyright, , by the ridgway company. everybody's magazine be able to see keenly and write interestingly credited the marvels told of the unicorn, the and should have an imagination that will en basilisk, the roc, and the cockatrice. able him to interpret the facts. but he is not of all these “nature fakers," the most a student of nature at all who sees not keenly reckless and least responsible is mr. long; but falsely, who writes interestingly and un but there are others who run him close in the truthfully, and whose imagination is used not "yellow journalism of the woods," as john to interpret facts but to invent them. burroughs has aptly called it. it would take a volume merely to catalogue the comic absurdities with which the books of these true nature lovers writers are filled. there is no need of dis- we owe a real debt to the men who truth- cussing their theories; the point is that their fully portray for us, with penor pencil, alleged “facts” are not facts at all, but any one of the many sides of outdoor life; fancies. their most striking stories are not whether they work as artists or as writers, merely distortions of facts, but pure inven- whether they care for big beasts or small tions; and not only are they inventions, but birds, for the homely farmland or for the they are inventions by men who know so little vast, lonely wilderness, whether they are of the subject concerning which they write, scientists proper, or hunters of game, or lovers and who to ignorance add such utter reckless- of all nature—which, indeed, scientists and ness, that they are not even able to distinguish hunters ought also to be. john burroughs between what is possible, however wildly and john muir, stewart edward white, and improbable, and mechanical impossibilities. frederic remington, olive thorne miller, be it remembered that i am not speaking hart merriam, william hornaday, frank of ordinary mistakes, of ordinary errors of chapman, j. a. allen, ernest ingersoll, wit- observation, of differences of interpretation mer stone, william cram, george shiras—to and opinion; i am dealing only with delib- all of these and to many like them whom i erate invention, deliberate perversion of fact. could name, we owe much, we who love the breath of the woods and the fields, and who "uncle remus" wolves care for the wild creatures, large or small. and the surest way to neutralize the work now all this would be, if not entirely of these lovers of truth and nature, of truth proper, at least far less objectionable, if the in nature-study, is to encourage those whose writers in question were content to appear in work shows neither knowledge of nature nor their proper garb, as is the case with the men love of truth. who write fantastic fiction about wild ani- the modern "nature faker” is of course mals for the sunday issues of various daily an object of derision to every scientist worthy newspapers. moreover, as a writer of spir- of the name, to every real lover of the wilder- ited animal fables, avowed to be such, any man ness, to every faunal naturalist, to every true can gain a distinct place of some importance. hunter or nature lover. but it is evident but it is astonishing that such very self- that he completely deceives many good people evident fiction as that which i am now dis- who are wholly ignorant of wild life. some- cussing should, when advertised as fact, im- times he draws on his own imagination for pose upon any person of good sense, no matter his fictions; sometimes he gets them second how ignorant of natural history and of wild hand from irresponsible guides or trappers life. most of us have enjoyed novels like or indians. “king solomon's mines,” for instance. but if mr. rider haggard had insisted that his yellow journalists of the woods novels were not novels but records of actual fact, we should feel a mild wonder at the in the wilderness, as elsewhere, there are worthy persons who accepted them as serious some persons who do not regard the truth; contributions to the study of african geogra- and these are the very persons who most de- phy and ethnology. light to fill credulous strangers with impos- it is not probable that the writers in ques- sible stories of wild beasts. as for indians, tion have even so much as seen some of the they live in a world of mysticism, and they animals which they minutely describe. they often ascribe supernatural traits to the ani- certainly do not know the first thing about mals they know, just as the men of the mid- their habits, nor even about their physical dle ages, with almost the same childlike faith, structure. judging from the internal evi- “nature fakers" dence of their books, i should gravely doubt if they had ever seen a wild wolf or a wild lynx. the wolves and lynxes and other ani- mals which they describe are full brothers of the wild beasts that appear in “uncle re- mus” and “reynard the fox," and deserve the same serious consideration from the zo- ological standpoint. certain of their wolves appear as gifted with all the philosophy, the self-restraint, and the keen intelligence of, say, marcus aurelius, together with the lofty philanthropy of a modern altruist; though un- fortunately they are hampered by a wholly er- roneous view of caribou anatomy. story-book beasts like the white queen in “through the looking-glass,” these writers can easily be lieve three impossible things before break- fast; and they do not mind in the least if the impossibilities are mutually contradic- tory. thus, one story relates how a wolf with one bite reaches the heart of a bull caribou, or a moose, or a horse--a feat which, of course, has been mechanically impossible of performance by any land carnivore since the death of the last saber-toothed tiger. but the next story will cheerfully describe a doubtful contest between the wolf and a lynx or a bulldog, in which the latter survives twenty slashing bites. now of course a wolf that could bite into the heart of a horse would swallow a bulldog or a lynx like a pill. in one story, a wolf is portrayed as guid- ing home some lost children, in a spirit of thoughtful kindness; let the overtrustful in- dividual who has girded up his loins to be lieve this think of the way he would receive the statement of some small farmer's boy that when lost he was guided home by a coon, a possum, or a woodchuck. again, one of these story-book wolves, when starving, catches a red squirrel, which he takes round as a present to propitiate a bigger wolf.* if any man seriously thinks a starving wolf would act in this manner, let him study hounds when feeding, even when they are not starving. the animals are alternately portrayed as actuated by motives of exalted humanitarian- ism, and as possessed of demoniac prowess and insight into motive. in one story the fisher figures in the latter capacity. a fisher is a big marten, the size of a fox. this particular story-book fisher, when pur- sued by hunters on snow-shoes, kills a buck by a bite in the throat, and leaves the carcass as a bribe to the hunters, hoping thereby to distract attention from himself! now, foxes are continually hunted; they are far more clever than fishers. what rational man would pay heed to a story that a fox when hunted killed a good-sized calf by a bite in the throat, and left it as a bribe to the hounds and hunters, to persuade them to leave him alone? one story is just as possible as the other. in another story, the salmon is the hero. the writer begins by blunders about the young salmon which a ten minutes' visit to any government fish hatchery would have enabled him to avoid; and as a climax, de- scribes how the salmon goes up a fall by flopping from ledge to ledge of a cliff, under circumstances which make the feat about as probable as that the fish would use a step- ladder. as soon as these writers get into the wilderness, they develop preternatural powers of observation, and, as mr. shiras says, be- come themselves “invisible and odorless," so that the shyest wild creatures permit any closeness of intimacy on their part; in one re- cent story about a beaver colony, the alterna- tive to the above proposition is that the bea- vers were both blind and without sense of smell. fact-blindness yet these same writers, who see such mar- velous things as soon as they go into the woods, are incapable of observing aright the most ordinary facts when at home. one of their stories relates how the eyes of frogs shine at night in the wilderness; the author apparently ignoring the fact that frog-ponds are common in less remote places, and are not inhabited by blazing-eyed frogs. two * this particular incident was alleged to have taken place in newfoundland, the wolf being the same as the hero of the caribou-heart-bite episode. mr. george shiras had informed me that there were no red squirrels in newfoundland, and that wolves were so scarce as to be practically non-existent, if they existed at all. he now writes me under date of july th as follows: time, wolves in newfoundland, this animal was extinct, or prac- tically so. squires is one of the best and most reliable trappers on this island, being one of the few who permanently reside in the interior, trapping in the most northerly and wildest por- tions of the country, where wolf sign would be instantly detected were the animals to be found on this island. such audacity on the part of dr. long is simply astounding." the letter from the guide, w. t. squires, runs in part as follows: “there are no squirrel of any kind here. neither have i seen any sign of wolf in the last ten years." “i enclose a copy of a recent letter received from my guide in newfoundland-which shows that i did not err regarding the wolves and red squirrel. “when dr. long alleges he was following, for weeks at a everybody's magazine of our most common and most readily ob- they describe a bear, a moose, or a sal- served small mammals are the red squirrel mon. and the chipmunk. the chipmunk has it is half amusing and half exasperating to cheek pouches, in which he stores berries, think that there should be excellent persons grain, and small nuts, whereas the red squir- to whom it is necessary to explain that books rel has no cheek pouches, and carries nuts stuffed with such stories, in which the stories between his teeth. yet even this simple fact are stated as facts, are preposterous in their escapes the attention of one of the writers we worthlessness. these worthy persons vividly are discussing, who endows a red squirrel call to mind professor lounsbury's comment with cheek pouches filled with nuts. evi- on “the infinite capacity of the human brain dently excessive indulgence in invention to withstand the introduction of knowledge.” tends to atrophy the power of accurate ob the books in question contain no statement servation. which a serious and truth-loving studen, of nature can accept, save statements which have fable weavers and believers already long been known as established by trustworthy writers. the fables they contain in one story a woodcock is described as ma bear the same relation to real natural history king a kind of mud splint for its broken leg; that barnum's famous artificial mermaid it seems a pity not to have added that it also bore to real fish and real mammals. no man made itself a crutch to use while the splint who has really studied nature in a spirit of was on. · a baltimore oriole is described as seeking the truth, whether he be big or little, making a contrivance of twigs and strings can have any controversy with these writers; whereby to attach its nest, under circum- it would be as absurd as to expect some gen- stances which would imply the mental ability uine student of anthropology or archeology and physical address of a sailor making a to enter into a controversy with the clumsy hammock; and the story is backed up by affi- fabricators of the cardiff giant. their books davits, as are others of these stories. this carry their own refutation; and affidavits in particular feat is precisely as possible as that support of the statements they contain are a rocky mountain pack rat can throw the as worthless as the similar affidavits once sol- diamond hitch. the affidavits in support of emnly issued to show that the cardiff “giant” these various stories are interesting only be- was a petrified pre-adamite man. there is cause of the curious light they throw on the now no more excuse for being deceived by personalities of those making and believing their stories than for being still in doubt them. about the silly cardiff hoax. if the writers who make such startling discoveries in the wilderness would really the guilty ones study even the denizens of a barnyard, they would be saved from at least some of their men of this stamp will necessarily arise, more salient mistakes. their stories dwell from time to time, some in one walk of life, much on the “teaching” of the young animals some in another. our quarrel is not with by their elders and betters. in one story, these men, but with those who give them their for instance, a wild duck is described as chance. we who believe in the study of na- “teaching" her young how to swim and get ture feel that a real knowledge and apprecia- their food. if this writer had strolled into tion of wild things, of trees, flowers, birds, the nearest barnyard containing a hen which and of the grim and crafty creatures of the had hatched out ducklings, a glance at the wilderness, give an added beauty and health actions of those ducklings when the hen hap- to life. therefore we abhor deliberate or pened to lead them near a puddle would reckless untruth in this study as much as in have enlightened him as to how much any other; and therefore we feel that a grave “teaching” they needed. but these writers wrong is committed by all who, holding a po- exercise the same florid imagination when sition that entitles them to respect, yet con- they deal with a robin or a rabbit as when done and encourage such untruth. theodore roosach everybodhi tagazine published by the ridgway company erman j. ridgway, president john o'hara cosgrave wm. l. jennings, sec'y and treas, ray brown, art director editor robert frothingham, adv. mgr. east th street, new york city with “everybody's” publishers ast month, mr. frothingham told you of the way in which he has trained his force to creep up stealthily and surround a wild but desirable advertisement, and how other attractive “ads." have succumbed to years of patient kindness, and have become so tame that they will almost walk into the back pages of the magazine by themselves. the month before, the editor, mr. cosgrave, presented some of the problems of the edi- torial department in the pursuit of elusive copy, and showed you the patient sifting process by means of which barrels of manu- script are gradually reduced in volume to the dimensions of a periodical that you can tuck into your side coat-pocket. this month, thinking you might be inter- ested in hearing something about the illus- trations, we have urged on the head of the art department, mr. ray brown, the necessity of defending his hand. let's listen to him: but the picture stays, irritating you by its mere passive endurance to the point where, after a while, you feel that if you don't say something to destroy its smug self-compla- cency, it will go on thinking that it's all right. so then you begin to work over it, and you say, “yes, i see now; it looked pretty good at first, but that arm is hopelessly bad, and i don't quite like the face." there's nothing to be done if you don't “quite like the face"; there's no answer to that proposition. it's a clincher. rembrandt himself couldn't have stood up against it. if some duke of his day had sauntered up to rembrandt's finest por- trait and said, “i don't think i quite like the face,” rembrandt would have wilted, and probably would have given up trying to be an “old master.” the getting of good illustrations is one of the problems of magazine-making; pictures that shall not only be intrinsically good in them- selves but shall also contain some of the germs of popularity for a large and varied mass of picture lovers. merely to avoid stepping on the corns of our friends, to refrain from giving needless and apparently gratuitous offense, is a task. politics, religion, art, the sciences, and the professions, all figure in illustration at one time or another; and when the finished result is submitted to several million people, some- where in that vast throng arises each month the expert with the critical mind, who points the accusing finger at us and says: “now you've done it; don't you know anything at all about the commonest things of life?' an astronomer writes anent a luckless picture, in stern condemnation: “the full moon,” says he, “is not at that altitude above the horizon at eleven o'clock on the night of december th, nor on the th of any other some liberal-minded people will admit to you that a slight preliminary training is re- quired before a serious attempt is made to criticize music, but almost anybody with eyes is willing to embark buoyantly on the job of tearing a picture to pieces. this seems to be because the picture will stand without hitch- ing. moreover, it will patiently submit to all the verbal harpoons you find time and strength to throw, and the average friendly critic will find sufficient of both to make even a reasonably good painting look like a cross between a fourteenth-century st. sebastian and a hedgehog. music, on the contrary, is both prolonged and evanescent, and by the time the compo- sition is finished and the applause has quieted down, the critic has forgotten most of the good things he intended to say to its detriment. everybody's magazine month in the year.” that settles it; he knows. reproductions of it are still being sold all a cleric, in fervent but decorous english, over the world. the artist has acquired a condemns a pictorial surplice, claiming, in handsome bank account in royalties from deed, that it is on hind side before. the that one picture alone. picture is so tiny that we didn't even know it and vernon howe bailey's beautiful had a surplice. but he did; surplices are his pictures of san francisco, coming, as they business. did, only a month after the earthquake-you occasionally a critic in clear, curt speech may have wondered at their timeliness. in informs us that the pictures in a mining fact we did some wondering ourselves. we story portray a stope, where a shaft is clearly have more of his work coming. indicated in the story by the formation of the next month we are starting a new series of lode and the locality of the scene. pictures by wm. balfour ker, which he calls or some honest sailorman writes in pained “the story of an american home.” they surprise to inquire why in a ship picture the are full of the most enchanting sentiment, artist rove the port mizzen royal buntline varied by touches of delicious humor. they through the main-brace bumkin block in- fairly radiate love and light and cheerfulness, stead of through the fair lead. and we feel sure you are going to be en- and the pretty girl problem. you know thusiastic over them. how hard it is in real life to collect even dan smith has done more of his horse and a corporal's guard out of a whole church hunting pictures, which go with such a rush fair who will openly acknowledge that any that you can almost feel the wind. and will one girl is really pretty. and, at that, the crawford-if you could only see the more real-life girl is able occasionally to vary the than oriental splendor with which his western monotony of her appearance in degrees ran- drawings arrive-anywhere from a week to a ging from a change in expression to a violent month late, usually, but borne in grandeur alteration in the way of wearing her hair, by a magnificent full-blooded sioux, who is whereas the poor magazine girl, once done, is mr. crawford's model, fidus achates, and, one done forever, and can present only the same is sometimes tempted to think, his trustee unblushing, monotonous face for praise or and board of directors as well. and there is blame. horace taylor with his irresistibly funny now and then the clothes as well as the ideas about folks that wouldn't be funny at girl come in for a share of trouble. the art- all to us if he hadn't seen them first; and ist overlooks a single line, perhaps, and the martin justice, with his perfectly probable picture, widely separated from the vital sen- people in the most absolutely impossible situa- tence, goes blithely past the guards in the edi- tions, and karl anderson and edmund fred- torial rooms and you have a result like this: erick with their swagger grandes dames, and the story says: “her bare arms stole softly . herbert dunton, hermann c. wall, charles about his neck.” you turn over to the pic-, falls, thornton oakley, blanche greer, and ture to see how her dress is made—having a host of others so good that not to recall their troubles of your own—and find that her names to you seems almost high treason. sleeves come beyond her wrists, with perhaps a frill of lace all but covering the hands. everybody's, from small beginnings, has maybe she is wearing mittens. struggled up to a place of its own in the artis- but, on the other side, every now and then tic world; and though we sometimes sacrifice a simple picture or a set of illustrations wakes what might be called "pure art” for the sake a wide response. some echo of the maker's of sentiment, or action, or humor, the maga- enthusiasm or loving care seems to touch zine has reached a position where artistic everybody, as if the artist had actually laid a names of the highest order are no strangers persuasive finger on their very hearts. to its pages, while the clever young people to glance back for a moment at some of look hopefully to it as a powerful aid in these successes: you remember mucha's making their reputations paintings of the “beatitudes” with their just one word more. if, in reading this, quaint foreign flavor, their gorgeous color, you get a slight impression that it has an and their sincere feeling of devotion. and apologetic tone, rest assured that it does not. you can't have forgotten the “dollies it's explanatory, that's all. the art depart- prayer,” first published in everybody's, for ment is still hopeful and impenitent. on the page following is a picture by mr. ilm. balfour ker. h is the first of a series of paintings, entitled "the story of an american home," which will be used as frontispieces during the coming months. copyright by w. balfour-ker copyright, , by wm. balfour ker. the story of an american home. . castles in spain.-the old home and a dream of the new. verybody's magazine vol. xvii. october, . no. . the keystone crime pennsylvania's graft-cankered capitol by owen wister editor's note. — owen wister occupies a field remote from sociological investiga- tion or journalistic exposure of national evils. it happens, however, that having of late passed much time within his native state, he has become, through his identification with the phila- delphia reform movement, or city party, thoroughly familiar with the events leading to the scandal of the capitol at harrisburg. ivhen urged to present them in el’erybody's magazine, he felt it proper to accept. he has consequently devoted much of his time to the hearings of the investigation commission and to an examination of the whole sordid crime, believing that in giving these facts the widest publicity lies pennsylvania's greatest hope. tf you will walk up the great staircase in contractor who furnished the capitol. fifty | the capitol at harrisburg, and proceed dollars would duplicate this stand, it has been left to the senate side, and find your way to said; but its maker's profit is not the story of the senate cloak-room, and look to the left the stand. mr. sanderson placed two wooden as you enter the door of that room, your eyes chairs and four brass foot-rests upon it, and will immediately fall upon a stand for black- resold it to pennsylvania for $ , . . that ing boots. nothing visible about this piece is the story of the stand. of furniture suggests its story; it is of decent a ten-per-cent. commission for a contract- dark wood, of dimensions convenient for its or is held to be generous; the commission purpose; two senators can be seated upon it here was , per cent.—and since he was with comfort and have their four boots black- dealing in figures of this size, why was mr. ened simultaneously. its maker, a mr. lan- sanderson so precise about the $ . ? dis, sold it for $ to mr. sanderson, the i n several rooms is a type of mahogany copyright, , by the ridgway company. all rights reserved. everybody's magazine office table feet long, wide, } high. the off by the inordinate cost of such a material. cost of each table to sanderson was $ . he they were. sanderson, the successful “in- charged the state $ , , a commission of side" contractor, bid $ . a pound, which , per cent. still more remarkable are two was later privately raised to $ . ; and he was rostrums, for which $ , were paid the paid at this rate—but not for “government builder, and for which the state paid sander- statuary bronze," of which he furnished not a son $ , . , a commission of , per single ounce. chemical analysis of forty-one cent. it appears that all this furniture, and different styles of his fixtures has disclosed a much more, was bought by sanderson by the substituted alloy that saved an immense per- piece, but was sold to the state “by the foot,” centage, both as to raw cost and assembling at $ . a foot. if we now take the dimen- cost, and that is worth forty-four cents a sions of the mahogany table, which originally pound, still further constantly cheapened by cost $ , and compute its feet by multiplying the use of scrap, instead of new alloy. hav- its length by its width, and the result by its ing now secretly raised his price and cheap- height thus: times is ; times is , ened his material, sanderson proceeded to and then multiply $ . by , we reach the make his chandeliers much thicker than was sum of $ , , or the price of cubic feet necessary, and further to load all possible of table paid by pennsylvania to sanderson. hollow places in them with hunks of metal not this gentleman by similar multiplications merely superfluous, but in some cases dan- found that there were feet of blacking stand gerous-one chandelier having already broken —and so reached the price of $ , . for several links of its badly cast supporting that article. the rostrums were dealt with in chains. these metal hunks cost sanderson the same cubical way, as were the hundreds about twenty-five cents a pound, and it is and thousands of other objects that you will estimated that there are , pounds of such find distributed through the five stories of the loadings. the senate and house chandeliers enormous building. we pennsylvania tax- weigh tons. having superfluously loaded payers have paid for i don't know how many his fixtures, sanderson now added imaginary thousands of feet of clocks, of umbrella-tubs, pounds to their weight; one type is charged as of clothes-trees, and of filing-cases. pounds, but it weighs , while in the “you knew you were including a good supreme court room, four fixtures were paid deal of air in that measurement, didn't you?" for at , pounds each; one has been found asked the counsel, mr. james scarlet, of a to weigh , the next . as to casting, witness on may st, during the morning pieces which should be solid turn out to be session of the committee that has been ap- of many soldered fragments. and finally, pointed to investigate this whole matter. there is the “solid mercurial gold finish” “yes, sir, no doubt of that,” replied the called for in the specifications. this is a witness. process so handsome and durable, as well as but when any precise cubic content was expensive, that it is used almost altogether perplexing to calculate, measurement was dis- in europe, and almost never here. huston pensed with. and sanderson have often mentioned its "sometimes we would charge by the linear universal presence in their bronze. there is feet and sometimes by the square feet. we'd not a square inch of it anywhere. dipping look at a piece of work and decide what it in acid and brushing with powder is their very was worth. then we would divide the esti- cheap substitute, and this “gold finish” has mated price by the unit price ($ . ) to de- begun to wear off already. termine the number for which to charge.” thus the sanderson-concocted chandelier it is thus that some , chairs were paid is an emblem of six different kinds of cheat- for. let us dwell upon one more item: the light ( ) in material, his bronze is a fraud. ing fixtures. sanderson sold these to the ( ) in construction, his casting is dishon- state not “by the foot” but “by the pound.” est. the specifications called for "government ( ) in finish, his gold-plating is a sham. statuary bronze,” parts copper, parts ( ) he “loaded” his fixtures. tin, a thing unknown as a trade staple, with ( ) he charged for weight that did not a name invented by the architect, huston, exist. for the emergency. the emergency was ( ) he charged, and got, one dollar a that “outside" bidders must be frightened pound over his bid. ing: ex-governor pennypacker. "i know of no graft; i do not like the term." mission spent only thirty-two cents a cubic foot. ii the fixtures cost sanderson $ , , which included a fifty-per-cent. profit, di- vided between him, boileau, and kinsman, under the terms of contract of the penn- sylvania bronze company. he then charged the state $ , , . , of wnich his share, after paying a subcontractor, was $ , ,- . it remains to be said that to charge for pieces of furniture “by the foot” and “by the pound” is a method utterly unknown to the business world, and impossible to carry out fairly, coherently, or intelligently. as huston observed, it was not carried out the total cubic-foot capacity of the capitol is , , . to build it cost $ , , — including sculptures by barnard, some of ab- bey's paintings, and all of miss oakley's decorative paintings. to furnish it cost $ , , . —that is to say, that under a schedule calling for “furniture, fixtures, and decorations,” the board of public grounds and buildings spent seventy cents a cubic foot (largely for fraudulent stuff), while for the building itself the capitol building com- quay, late leader of political pennsylvania, dead now, said once at election time: “i can sometimes do without a governor, but i al- ways need a treasurer"; and upon another occasion, very late in life, he advised a friend: “keep out of the capitol job. everybody in that will go to the penitentiary.” behind these remarks lie forty years of unpunished robbery, punctuated by occasional protests; for pennsylvania is not rottener than she ever was, but merely as rotten as ever she has been. if anybody goes to the penitentiary this time, it will be because quay is no longer alive to rob the penitentiary as well as the treasury. one protest was the new constitution of , making the office of treasurer elective. pre- viously, he had been chosen by the legislature —then owned by cameron. but what is law unless vitalized by vigilance? the pennsyl- vanian does not vigil; he sometimes tosses in his sleep. everybody's magazine robbery continued for five years, when an- other protest elected an honest and indepen- dent treasurer, samuel butler. he looked into the treasury and saw he had fallen heir to a deficit. less servile than his prede- shirt-sleeves in his room, and grasping the weapon of death in the presence of the rightly selected person, he repeated again and again that his time had come. chris magee, of pittsburg, was the selected person, and quay copyright, , oy j. w. koshon. the pennsylvania state capitol which cost four million to build and more than eight million to turnisii. cessors, he declined to receipt for $ , , had understood his man. magee's senti- which he found was represented by not one mental heart melted; he implored quay to cent of cash, but by queer certificates of live (which quay had not the slightest in- shares in queer mining and land companies, tention of not doing) and swearing to help and by politicians' promissory notes. it is him out, made good his word. he appealed now published and undenied history that this to cameron, and not in vain. to quote an- money had been taken out of the treasury other of quay's felicitous phrases, here was by quay, and lost in speculation. expo- the man found “to get behind the treasury sure loomed close; quay fretted day and and make things look good.” cameron night, closeted in consultation with his part paid the deficit, butler took office, the peo- ners, walters, the cashier of the treasury, ple knew nothing, and quay continued to live and norris, the auditor-general of the state. and loot. noyes, the retiring state treas- but as exposure loomed closer, walters did urer, did not. he had been ignorant of the more than fret-he blew his brains out, and looting worked by his cashier, walters, and he stands historic as treasury suicide no. . soon followed him, dying of worry and shame his tragedy may have suggested to quay in a few months. the little comedy that he himself now played. butler unfortunately appointed william struggle and search as they would, squeeze livesey, of pittsburg, his cashier. livesey pennies from everywhere into the deficit, turned out a jailbird of the quay feather, and more than $ , remained to find. may made the machinery of self-perpetuating theft ist was at hand, the reckoning day, when perfect, thus: bailey succeeded butler, live- butler should take his office—and he refused sey remaining cashier. bailey was honest, to assume charge until the whole deficit was but ignorant of the nature of the banks where made up; meanwhile he promised silence. livesey now deposited state money, and so quay played his comedy. seated in his where quay and his friends freely drew on the keystone crime it without security. when two of these were rendered needless. thus the dark- banks failed, and bailey's entire fortune ness beneath the treasury lid was unbroken, was taken under a confession of judgment, and the machinery of theft worked smoothly exacted by the sureties who had gone on his on-but not smoothly for everybody. the bond at the time he entered office, his eyes treasury had been recently crippled by a were opened and he understood. the poli- raid of $ , , got from it for quay ticians got him free transportation to his by livesey, the cashier, assisted by norris, home, where he soon after died in poverty. the auditor-general. with this money quay cashier livesey now became treasurer, fol- had bought certain bonds carrying a stock lowed by quay, who reappointed him cash- bonus. the bonds he sold in time, thus re- ier, but who resigned early in his second year, placing the $ , , and the stock he kept when livesey was appointed treasurer for the until it brought him $ a share, when he unexpired term. he was made cashier again observed: “a man is a fool who does not take by his successor, hart, probably an honest advantage of his opportunities.” but nor- man. it is believed that what hart discovered ris, who with a negro porter had brought the about the treasury killed him. at any rate, state money in a cab to quay, drank himself he died in office, and the perpetual livesey to death, while the negro porter, oddly enough, was again appointed to fill the vacancy. he was soon after found at the bottom of the was again madecashier by his successor, boyer. susquehanna river. before dying, norris about this time a flood destroyed johns- had written to quay: town, and for such emergency the machinery my dear colonel: in the event of my death i of self-perpetuating theft could not provide. wish as my last request that you see that lizzie, for it was proposed to call herself and children, re- a special session of the ceives my $ , in the chicago deal. this is the legislature to enact re- only legacy i can secure lief for johnstown. but them, and i trust you to the “insiders” knew look after it. better than to subject the treasury to such a mrs. norris present- sudden test. it would ed this letter. quay have lifted the lid off laughed in her face, re- the vacancy beneath. marking:“when a pol- the man was found itician dies, he leaves again-william h. only what is found on kemble. he knew that him.” she put the pa- there was no money to pers in legal hands; and pay for any special ses- the sum of $ , was sion, nor for any appro- promptly paid for them, priation for johnstown, and the lid was kept on. and he knew why. an- but livesey, fearing other jailbird of the that the lid might some quay feather (already day be lifted on himself, once convicted of bri- fled the state, and died bery and immediately in exile. the machin- pardoned by the state ery continued without board of which quay him. no suicides, how- was chairman), he had ever, occurred when the coined a phrase as ex- - chestnut street bank, pressive as any of the state insurance quay's: “addition, di- company, the west- vision, and silence." he chester trust company, paid his debt to quay and the german na- now, and came forward tional bank of pitts- openly with $ , for burg were wrecked by johnstown, and there- the smooth running of the architect huston, by a special session the machinery. but the and an appropriation lid, nevertheless, nearly through whose office the machinery of the graft was operated. everybody's magazine came off on march , , when the evidently meant to be temporary, as it was. people's bank failed, and hopkins, the by act of july , , a capitol building cashier, blew his brains out, because he knew commission was created to construct, build, more about the self-perpetuating machinery and complete the state capitol," the total cost of theft than he could any longer bear. we not to exceed $ , , . significant indeed pass by most interesting letters from the state is the proviso that none but pennsylvania treasurer, haywood, found in the cashier's architects would be eligible. a third com- desk, and quote only the famous telegram: petition was now invited, mr. ware, of co- lumbia university, to perform the office of san lucie, florida, feb. ii, . john s. hopkins: if you buy and carry a thou- un professional adviser. no architects of stand- sand met. for me i will shake the plum-tree. ing entered this competition, and over its m. s. quay. finish gathers a blur--that blur which in- quay, his son richard, and haywood a variably shrouds all crucial moments in the were indicted for conspiracy to use the funds doings of the quay political offspring. we of the commonwealth for their own benefit. are now entering the crowded intricacies of when the trial began, april , , hay- this long and well-prepared plot. out of wood had opportunely and suddenly died. the competition blur emerges huston, whose quay attempted no defense, but pleaded the premature boast that he was to be the chosen statute of limitations. quay's plea excluded architect spoils the appearance of the simu- lated competition. against this choice of all evidence antedating two years—all evi- dence of the transactions narrated above, all huston the institute of american architects evidence but haywood's books—the dealings formally protested. no notice was taken of with the people's bank being kept secretly this protest. on his entering the competition, by hopkins in a sort of cipher. the expert huston's resignation from the t square club accountant explained the cipher and made was requested, and accepted—but he had got the secret and the open books of the bank fit the capitol, and the capitol had got him, an like hands in gloves, showing that between inexperienced novice, and consequently sure may , , and october , , quay got to be amenable to the suggestion of those who $ , , from the people's bank, and paid had so distinguished him. only $ , interest thereon. but several of they had now got their man, and next they the jury could neither write nor read. on needed a little law. it was not lacking. by april st quay was acquitted, and the ma- act of march , (which enlarged and chinery of theft suffered no interruption, not bettered one of ten years earlier), it was pro- even during the trial. meanwhile, the new vided that “the governor, auditor-general, and state treasurer shall constitute a board capitol had begun to rise, at least in the imagination of the politicians. “everybody to be known as the board of commissioners in that job will go to the penitentiary,” re- of public grounds and buildings, who shall marked quay. have entire control of the public grounds and buildings, including ... the furnishing and refurnishing of the same.” here legally we have the entering wedge, which very slight doctoring-imperceptible to the unperceiving by act of april , , provision had public-was to render a fine weapon of de- been made for the erection of a new capitol fense for any amount of chandeliers and building,* and $ , had been the appro- blacking stands. were not such things “fur- priation limiting its structural cost. eight nishings”? and did not the board of public prominent architectural firms were invited to grounds and buildings have full swing here? compete. suddenly the committee revoked let the building commission scrupulously its program. from the political blur of all spend its four millions on the building; the this emerges a new competition-everybodyboard would attend to the furnishing. in- cordially invited. but the institute of ar- deed, under this very amply worded power, chitects passed a formal resolution, forbid- dating back to , there is no doubt that ding any of its members to deal with the (in a small way) "addition, division, and politicians and their capitol. there was silence” had been going on steadily, when- now built the $ , capitol, a brick shell ever “furnishing and refurnishing” was to be done. the “by the foot” and “by the * to replace the one burned february , . few believe that this burning was accidental. pound” system turns up during these years, iii the keystone crime invented by one delaney, who had sat at the feet of quay and cameron. having un- limited power to furnish, all that was needed was authority to pay the bills. the plan was large and the men here engaged wanted full sway. so we find in the general appropria- tion acts of , , and , what is known as section : “the state treasurer is hereby authorized and directed to pay out of any moneys in the treasury not other- wise appropriated . . . such sums as may be required . . . for furnishing, ... which ills," declared the judge, and proved it by naming the institutions founded by franklin, and recalling how brilliantly general meade had won the battle of gettysburg. and when he came to quay he wrote: “it is not for me to express an opinion concerning his political methods. ... mr. quay is a plain, simple, modest, and kindly man, with no propen- sity for the acquisition of riches, and with a genius for . . . organization ... like the gift of shakespeare." quay was flattered by this, and he forthwith took his cousin pen- a session of the investigating committle. shall be done only on the written orders nypacker from the bench, and made him of the board of . . . public grounds and the next governor of pennsylvania in . buildings." no $ , , limit here; no quay had been in recent trouble (we omit the limit at all; but who would have been able to history of ex-senator quay, as it is not or- see that “any moneys not otherwise appro- ganically essential to the story of the cap- priated” was going to mean nearly $ , , itol), and he was glad to offer in his cousin for furnishing? pennypacker a candidate of whom everybody and now mr. samuel pennypacker comes could say “he is honest”; moreover this into this story. in the allantic monthly for cousin had been a perfectly reputable judge. october, , appeared an article, “the by virtue of the act of , governor political ills of pennsylvania,” touching upon pennypacker now found himself (with audi- such methods as self-perpetuating machinery, tor-general hardenburgh and state treas- and other matters too, and speaking of quayurer harris) presiding officer of the board with frankness unveiled. to this mr. pen- of public grounds and buildings. the con- nypacker-judge pennypacker then—wrote tract for building the capitol had been a reply, which the atlantic declined, and awarded on september th, some three which he published in the press, no months before; it was scarce yet time to think vember , . “pennsylvania has no of furnishings—though oddly, very oddly, everybody's magazine orders for all the metal furniture had already entire furnishing, in accordance with the speci- been approved by the governor's predeces- fications prepared by the architect.” now let sors. but quite aside from the question of the reader suppose that he is a manufacturer furnishings, which had not yet been presented of carpets, and that he puts in a bid; instantly to him, it did not take governor pennypacker he runs against the "joker”; his bid must long to fall under the spell of the glory that “cover the entire furnishings”-chandeliers, the new capitol was sure to shed upon him. desks, thermostats, venetian blinds, glass, he would still be governor at its completion in etc., etc.—and he makes only carpets. he , would preside at the opening ceremo- cannot compete, unless in the six weeks given nies, would hear panegyrics from important him he can arrange with those who make the speakers, would add a little something in that other things to supply him, then get the archi- way himself; would in short stand at the doors tect's specifications, base his bids upon them, of the new house, its momentary master, and cover the forty-one items of the schedule, and flinging them grandly open, bid the world be ready on the day appointed for bidding. it walk in and be welcome. it is under the was impossible. some went so far as to trust splendor of this vision that charity, and a the advertisement that “complete plans for all belief in his personal honesty, compel us to the furniture . . . can be seen at the office of suppose that governor pennypacker hence- j. m. huston ... where full instructions forth walked in a trance of vanity. to this will be given.” they called and grew speedily trance huston ably ministered. governor aware of their innocence. all instructions pennypacker secured huston for his board were withheld; even civility was usually with- for the consideration of four per cent. on held. plans for furniture they did see- everything. on april , , we find him chained to the wall; but when they asked for offering what has since become famous as copies of these to take home to base their his "joker” resolution, regarding bids for the calculations on, they were refused. in short, furnishing. on april th they rescinded in the office of j. m. huston they got not a this resolution—but when it came to letting clue to enable them to bid, and they gave it the contract it was let in strict accordance up, realizing that they were not of the elect. with the resolution. but how did the it was the archi- elect sanderson tects' competition manage it, since j. over again, differ- m. huston denied ently managed. a that he had ever certain man was known sanderson needed to perfect until the bidding- the plot, but there day? since that must be an appear- denial, j. m. hus- ance of open bid- ton has written let- ding. now, san- ters in which inad- derson had been vertent mention is supplying fur- made of his having niture to public known sanderson buildings since the since , and it act of , and has further been he was the needed shown during the man, and they got investigation that him by the simplest this pair were in device. in govern- busy collusion or pennypacker's over the bidding a "joker” resolution year before the was embedded the bidding took place. following, suggest- we complete this ed to him by no- transaction for the body knows who, reader by adding though we may all that besides san- guess: the bids derson there was must "cover the whose election in brought about the exposure of the capitol graft. one general bidder. state treasurer berry, the keystone crime namely, “the international and manufac- the board of public grounds and buildings, turing supply company.” it was a phantom. and perhaps spoil everything. they fought the probing hand goes through it, finding a desperately. they invited many distin- sort of vacuum, with several sets of shuffled guished strangers to come and speak for them; incorporators, and, as residue, a female type- they floated themselves on great banners as the writer, and some- party of roosevelt, body now in mexi- the party of the co. it was got up square deal, be- for appearances. sides employing thus the second their usual meth- farce of competi- ods lavishlv; but tion was played, the distinguished and the scheme of strangers sent re- robbery made per- grets, the adminis- fect-a capitol tration made no building to fur- sign, and they had nish, an unscrupu- to speak for them- lous rascal to fur- selves. this they nish it, a board with did at the acade- unlimited control my of music, oc- of public money to tober th. said pay for it, and an- . senator penrose: other unscrupu- “no one of all lous rascal with un- the states can ex- limited control of hibit such a wise the board. how and beneficent he turned them financial system as "trimmer" sanderson, round his finger, the principal looter in the harrisburg crime. has been created how they were wax in pennsylvania in his hands, how these official guardians of by republican legislation and administered the enterprise guarded nothing, but impo- by republican treasurers. ... the republi- tently (or connivingly) sat still while millions can party has no apology to offer. . . . what were being squandered, shall presently be it has done in the past it will do in the future.” narrated. this promise was virtually simultaneous with another blowing out of brains. out in alle- iv gheny, t. lee clark, cashier of the enterprise bank, on that day had followed the steps of meanwhile quay had died; and, bereft walters and hopkins, and by shooting himself of its chief, pennsylvania's den of thieves fell had become treasury suicide no. . while into trouble for a while, weakened by internal the looted bank added a new ruin to com- quarreling and menaced by the citizens from memorate the “wise and beneficent financial without. the storm-center was in philadel- system,” the corpse of clark added special phia. three impudences greater than com eloquence to senator penrose's words: “the mon-quay's appointment to the senate one republican party has no apology to offer. hour after his technical evasion of prison, the ... what it has done in the past it will do salter jury, and finally the gas lease—had in the future.” gradually wakened the hibernating moral so mr. berry was elected state treasurer sense of the community, and the gas lease in november, . he could not know threatened their pockets besides. in the en- what breathless doings his election had started suing revolt of may to november, , pol- among huston, sanderson, and their puppet itics were disinfected by the city party to a board of public grounds and buildings; but degree encouraging, but incomplete; and the when he entered office on may , , he particular disinfecting which concerns the could have known, and did know at once, by capitol was the election of an honest and what he found, that theft on a great scale had courageous state treasurer. this was a dan- been taking place. by a grave error of judg- ger that the conspirators had not foreseen. ment in keeping back this knowledge for four by their own law he would take his place on months, he hurt incurably the fall campaign bootblack stand. mahogany office table. market price, $ : cost to pennsylvania, $ , . market price, $ ; cost to pennsylvania, $ , . . that he was endeavoring to before the bills were approved serve by his ill-timed postpone- and ordered to be paid." ment. but we must be very on september th, at grateful to him for what he reading, berry persisted: did accomplish. all was quiet “the capitol has cost more meanwhile, so quiet, so hid- than $ , , .” den, that on august th, the on september th, penny- capitol being ready, a phila- packer and his auditor issued delphia newspaper could say a statement: “pennsylvania the following: "it is probably will be proud of it.” “the the only great structure put board believed . . . that it up in this country under pub- had made an advantageous lic auspices that was finished arrangement for the common- within the specified time and wealth.” “no bill was finally the cost kept within the ap- settled until the article had propriation.” and true it been measured or weighed as seemed; it had cost $ , the schedule required.” “so less than the $ , , ap- far as we know not a dollar propriated to "build” it, while has been misspent.” “the the $ , , spent by mr. board, conscious ... it has pennypacker in “furnishing" faithfully wrought a good work it was, and would have re- ... awaits with entire con- mained, a secret hermetically fidence the approval of the sealed forever, but for the re- cent victory of the city party. the capitol is not a good thus as late as august, , work. outside, it looks as hat-tree. the public suspected nothing. sold to pennsylvania at $ . a foot. much like all other capitols as on september th, at erie, any banana looks like the rest mr. berry said: “the capitol has cost more of the bunch. inside, it is a monstrous botch than $ , , ." of bad arrangement, bad lighting, bad ventila- on september th, auditor-general sny- tion, and the most bloated bad taste. from der replied: “the department has nothing this must be excepted miss oakley's beautiful to conceal. everything that was paid for paintings, mr. mercer's admirable tiles per- by the foot was measured, and everything petuating a historic state industry; the work that was paid for by the pound was weighed, of van ingen, and the sculptures of barnard- :roll people.” the keystone crime only twenty-seven days remained before election. mr. carson replied that he did not understand mr. berry's list. let us have an example of what mr. carson did not understand: specified in orig. inal contract paid by board of described in con- public grounds and tract as buildings pages – , wainscoting (wood) $ , . and for their honest wares these artists were as much underpaid as the contractors were over- paid for their dishonest wares. on october th, the capitol was dedicated, and mr. roosevelt made a speech there. on october th, mr. berry asked penny- packer by what right he and his board had spent money to complete the building in dis- regard of the law: section : “expenditures shall not be so construed as to authorize the commissioners of public grounds and build- ings to complete the present capitol building." the building contract had covered all fix- tures. it called for wood wainscoting seven feet high. pennypacker put up wainscoting twelve feet high and paid sanderson for this, while the building contractor was also paid for the same seven feet. thus the state paid twice. this is one of many examples of pennypacker's usurpation of the completing of the building. the governor did not put up the wainscoting himself, but he approved his agent's (huston's) sanction of it, and must be regarded as the responsible principal in this as well as in all the similar transactions. to berry's question as to what legal right he had to do so, he remained silent. on the same day berry wrote asking the attorney-general. hampton carson, for an opinion as to the legality of this, adding that he should stop further payments until he was sure. he subjoined a list of items of usurpa- tion. mr. carson wrote that he could not under- stand this—but let us remember that it was only twenty-seven days before election. on october th, mr. carson said in a campaign speech: “the man who makes the accusations must sustain them ... the pub- lic is sick of these charges which never ma- terialize.” on october th, mr. pennypacker said: “i know of no graft. i do not believe there has been any. i do not like the term.” on october st, berry again wrote car- son, more fully as requested. (it will be ob- served that mr. carson had asked for de- tails, the gathering of which had covered twenty-one of the twenty-seven days remain- ing before election.) the vault doors and vestibules referred to on page are included in the contract with payne & company (the building contractors) and paid for in the lump sum received by him. they have been paid for a second time by the board of public attorney general hampton carson, who attempted to absolve the gratters of wrong doing. everybody's magazine grounds and buildings, as shown in the accompany ing voucher, and no allowance has been made to the state. . . . a special schedule of forty-one items and a general schedule of twenty-three items were made. . . . a bid was received from j. h. sanderson on every item in both lists. . . . for instance: special schedule, item . leather-covered easy armchair (mahogany), series f, $ . net. ... some of these prices are fifty per cent. lower than any other bid. . . . item is ambiguously ... drawn as to cover all furniture . . . to be used. ... “item . . . . designed furniture, fit- tings, furnishings, and decorations, of either wood- work, stone, marble, bronze, mosaic, glass, and up- holstery"; and the bidder is asked to bid per foot, without a definite statement of what a foot of fur- niture is. ... the results: there are six "leather- covered easy armchairs (mahogany)” in my private office, which are accurately described in item (special schedule), and which are offered by mr. sanderson to the state under this item for $ . each, and which were furnished by him under item by the foot at $ each, or more than four times the original offer. in plain words, sanderson got up two lists of furniture, one to fool the public with, the other to rob the treasury with. the first was like any ordinary price-list containing chairs, tables, etc., and their prices. in the second list, lurking unprominently, was “item ” with its tricky wording about designed furniture per foot. so the first list was not used (except to fool the public), and sanderson put in all the furniture under “per foot” contracts. thus mr. berry's “leather- covered easy armchairs” were made to cost $ each, instead of $ . . this was what mr. berry had shown mr. carson. the above extract is necessary to throw a clear light on the nature of mr. carson's re- ply, on the same day: “i again point out to you the importance of supplying me from the records of your department with the data which i have called for.” mr. berry was no lawyer; mr. carson was. the twenty-seven dangerous days were tided over, and on november th mr. carson's party triumphed. that day safely passed we find mr. carson saying on november ioth: “the time for talk has ceased. . .. these charges i intend to investigate, and nothing will be overlooked.” mr. carson did investigate the charges, and his manner of doing so was this: through the ensuing weeks he addressed letters to huston and sanderson, asking them if the charges were true, and received replies that they were not. this form of investigation appears to have satisfied mr. carson. his report, published in january, , says: “upon the evidence thus far submitted-and speaking of that only—i do not hesitate to say that, in my judgment, there is no trace of crime. . . . in regard to overcharges ... the testimony is harmonious.” thus mr. carson, having said to the thieves, “please tell me honestly, did you steal anything?" and hearing the thieves harmoniously an- swer “no,” concludes: “unless fraud is shown ... the attorney-general will have no function to perform. i submit these views. . . . to have withheld them would be trifling with a grave subject." it may be justly wondered how mr. car- son managed to think that he had not trifled with a grave subject when to cite one in- stance from his report) we find the follow- ing: on november , , he asks sanderson: “if there were subcontracts, please give the names of the subcontractors, and state the difference between the price paid by you to them and the prices charged the state.” and sanderson answers, november th: “my rights . . . are in no way affected by the cost to me of the article, or by the fact that i did or did not sublet the con- tract." the attorney-general had put his finger on the vital point; and, being told that it was none of his business, was satisfied by this impudent withholding of what he had asked for. in february, , the investigating com- mission was appointed, it having been a strong "plank” in the republican platform during the fall campaign. in march the investigating commission be- gan its sittings, and, with james scarlet as its counsel, became historic. it owed much at the outset to the north american, through whose help it speedily reached the subcon- tractors. most of the papers, especially the press, have played a public-spirited part throughout. in a very few days pennsyl- vania knew that once more it had been the huge, laughable, contemptible dupe of those whom it had just put back into power after a momentary defection, a flash in the pan of in- telligent independence. pennsylvania learned about the bootblack stand, the rostrums, the chandeliers. pennsylvania learned that, it had paid for putty instead of mahogany. it had paid for plaster instead of marble. it had paid $ for "special" andirons that had been sold everywhere for twelve years at $ . it had paid for mantels and fireplaces that had no chimnies. it had paid- the keystone crime $ . for a corner cup- that in october, , huston had been suspected board........costing $ . by mr. green, superintendent of the building, and $ , . for umbrella tubs.costing $ , . the suspicion had been communicated. $ , . for wardrobes...costing $ , . that in december, , snyder had suspected $ , . for mantels ..... costing $ , . huston, and had asked for more definite data, which $ , . for desks .......costing $ , . he did not get till the following fall, though he could $ , . for painting and have stopped payments at any time. decorating....costing $ , . that (and here is the darkest fact of all) im- $ , . for designed mediately on berry's election in november, , woodwork....costing $ , . money began to be paid out in greater and greater $ , , . for chandeliers..costing $ , . haste. $ , , . for metallic filing that between march and may , , $ , ,- cases, etc.....costing $ , . . was paid out, partly for goods not yet delivered. huston and sanderson presently fled the that on may d, $ , . was paid to san- derson, partly for work not yet done. state. and pennypacker? pennypacker, that the minutes of the board were approved next who declared: day, and so berry on the th of may found matters “ the board has been more than ordinarily when he entered office. watchful in order to prevent possible abuse." “in several instances i personally . . . sent int such, shorn of many details not essential two men to verify the measurements. ...". to its telling, is the story. who really got the “the board ... has faithfully wrought a money? will any one be punished? or will good work. . ..” “i know of no graft. i this merely carry on successfully the tradition do not believe there has been any. ..." of “addition, division, and silence"? * in his testimony before the investigation (page , ) this is what he says: i am not familiar with the details. i do not know that that could be expected of me.” and that the political case of pennsylvania is a (page , ): “if we did not get good work, then i very sick one, both acute and chronic, can was deceived and we were all deceived ... and it is an especially wicked thing. scarce have escaped the notice of the reader who has followed this narrative down, from and snyder? snyder, the auditor-gen cameron through quay and the suicides, to eral, who joined pennypacker in his report this point. and how, it will naturally be that “so far as we know, not a dollar has asked, and why, has any community of self- been misspent. ..." “the board ... respecting people tolerated such a state of awaits with entire confidence the approval things for forty years? the briefest answer of the people. ..." is—the people of pennsylvania are not self- let us see from his own words how he per- respecting. in the place of self-respect they formed his office: substitute an impregnable complacency. yet this explanation is inadequate. mere com- testimony, page , : q. but you paid them without knowing whether they were correct or not? placency would hardly sit down and be robbed a. i did. for forty years, getting leaky reservoirs and (page , ): q. what did you understand was putty mahogany for its money; and we find the foot measurement? upon analysis that with complacency must a. i have never understood that. q. did you ever try to understand it? be joined also stupidity and cowardice. it a. no, sir. is a sweeping indictment, and of course it ap- q. how would you understand the bills, how plies to by no means every voter in the state; audit them, if you did not understand that? but it does apply to the majority, since it is the a. i depended entirely on the architect. ... i may have been a little easy. majority that elects. yet still the question (page , ): q. for my own satisfaction, just remains, how does all this come about? tell me what mental processes you underwent when how is it that pennsylvania is not only dis- you audited a bill? honest-all states are that at times—but a. i ... saw that the additions and multiplica- tions were correct. ridiculous as well? the reader has heard of monopolies and the investigation sat until the end of june, trusts. the government of pennsylvania has taking , words of testimony. it found been, since the civil war, a monopoly, an enor- (among other things)— mous trust, almost without competition, like that millions had been paid on huston's unsup- * before these words are published, seventeen persons will have been named for indictment, unless the commission change ported, unverified word. its present plan. everybody's magazine standard oil, but greatly inferior, because he ran the whole way, glad to forget he owed standard oil gives good oil, while the pennsyl- the capitol exposure to the independent party, vania machine gives bad government. it shields pretending hard to believe that it was exag- and fosters child labor; we have seen how gerated. he elected, instead of the indepen- it steals; it has given philadelphia sewage dent candidate for mayor, a machine mavor, to drink, smoke to breathe, extravagant gas, who in the words of a machine leader "has a vile street-car system, and a police well- been taking orders for thirty years,” and nigh contemptible. this monopoly rests whose latest act of obedience has been the upon two special causes-a special soil and signing—against strong protest--of a street- a special people; coal and iron and the tariff railroad bill that gives about as much to the could not by themselves have brought a com- interested few and about as little to the citi- munity so low. it required a people ready zens as the capitol job itself-all this quite in and willing to be brought low, and the people the face of the mayor's paraded promises of were there—the pennsylvania “dutch," and independent watchfulness of the city's welfare. the quakers. the former, to their good were this mayor wholly harmless, he would qualities of thrift and a certain stolid horse- be wholly ridiculous. for this mayor neither sense, unite a servile acquiescence in things the “dutch" nor the quaker is to blame. as they are; no “dutch” county has ever the irish, moved presumably by the gifts to turned its boss out. the quaker to his well- their church of the notorious leader of the known good qualities adds a timidity that “contractors'combine," voted for a despotism also acquiesces in things as they are. this far worse than that they had crossed the seas racial acquiescence is at the bottom of penn- to escape--this to the disgust of the better sylvania's plight, and has drugged every catholic element. thus has philadelphia, standard, save money. lethargically pros- like the dog in scripture, returned to its own perous, pennsylvania is all belly and no mem- vomit. bers, and its ideals do not rise higher than the the people of pennsylvania walked last belly. of the traditional philadelphian this autumn by thousands and thousands through is as true as of the rustic, only it is more shame their new capitol, and to most of them it was ful. well-to-do, at ease, with no wish but to superb and beautiful. its total lack of in- be left undisturbed, the traditional philadel- dividuality and distinction, its great aimless phian shrinks from revolt. when wrongs so bulk, its bilious, overeaten decoration, its outrageous as the gas lease are thrust at him, swollen bronzes, its varicose chandeliers, ex- he may rouse for a while, but it is grudgingly pressed their notion of the grand and the de- in his heart of hearts; and when the party of sirable. now that they have learned that it reform makes mistakes, he jumps at these to was all another robbery, and that their carved cover his retreat back into the ranks of acqui- mahogany is mostly putty, they are not much escence. disturbed. do not pity them. they after electing a reform party in novem- deserve everything they get, for ber, , he immediately began to notice all pennsylvania is to-day a government that the party failed to reform and to ignore by knaves at the expense of fools. all that it accomplished. he jeered at every black is the retrospect; the outlook some- piece of mismanagement of the city party; it what brightens. governor stuart is so much made him happy; it was another pretext for better than his party that his candidacy saved him to return to the party that had been man- it. the state is fairly restless. harrisburg aging the treasury for forty years. one has shaken off the den of thieves. pittsburg year of independence is trying to. philadel- was too much for him. phia may bring up the long before its close he rear; its spark of liberty was tired and fright- is not quite trampled ened of it. the next out; it may some day november, , he cease to be the dirtiest began to run back; smear on the map of the following february the united states. j.n.marchand in blackwater pot by charles g. d. roberts author of "the heart of the ancient ll'ood," "the return to the trails," etc. illustrations by j. n. marchand the lesson of fear was one that hender- into the slow swirls of blackwater pot, was t son learned late. he learned it well, not a dozen feet from the lip of the falls. however, when the time came. and it was henderson sat at the foot of a ragged white blackwater pot that taught him. birch that leaned from the upper rim of the sluggishly, reluctantly, impotently, the pot. he held his pipe unlighted, while he spruce logs followed one another round and watched the logs with a half fascinated stare. round the circuit of the great stone pot. the outside, in the river, he saw them, in a clum- circling water within was smooth, and deep, sy, panic haste, wallowing down the white and black, but streaked with foam. at one rapids to their awful plunge. when a log side a deep rent in the rocky rim opened upon came down close along shore, its fate hung the sluicing current of the river, which rushed for a second or two in doubt. it might shoot on, quivering and seething, to plunge with a straight on, over the lip, into the wavering roar into the terrific caldron of the falls. out curtain of spray, and vanish into the horror of that thunderous caldron, filled with huge of the caldron. or, at the last moment, the tramplings and the shriek of tortured torrents, eddy might reach out stealthily and drag it rose a white curtain of spray, which every into the sullen, wheeling procession within now and then swayed upward and drenched the pot. all that it gained here, however, the green birches that grew about the rim of was a terrible kind of respite, a breathing the pot. for the break in the rim, which space of agonized suspense. as it circled caught at the passing current and sucked it around, and came again to the opening by everybody's magazine which it had entered, it might continue on another eventless revolution, or it might, ac- cording to the whim of the eddy, be cast forth irretrievably into the clutch of the awful sluice. sometimes two logs, after a pause in what seemed like a secret death struggle, would crowd each other out and go over the falls together. and sometimes, on the other hand, both would make the circuit safely again and again. but always, at the cleft in the rim of the pot, there was the moment of suspense, the shuddering, terrible pause. it was this recurring moment that seemed to fasten itself balefully upon henderson's imagination, so that he forgot to smoke. he had looked down into blackwater before, but never when there were any logs in the pot. moreover, on this particular morning, he was overwrought with weariness. for a lit- tle short of three days he had been at the ut- most tension of body, brain, and nerve, in hot but wary pursuit of a desperado whom it was his duty, as deputy sheriff of his county, to capture and bring to justice. this out- law, a french half-breed known through the length and breadth of the wild backwoods county as “red pichot," was the last but one-and accounted the most dangerous— of a band that henderson had undertaken to break up. henderson had been deputy for two years—and owed his appointment primarily to his preeminent fitness for this very task. unacquainted with fear, he was at the same time unrivaled through the back- woods counties for his subtle woodcraft, his sleepless endurance, and his cunning. it was two years now since he had set his hand to the business. one of the gang had been hanged. two were in the penitentiary, on life sentence. henderson had justified his appointment—to every one except himself. for while pichot, and his gross-witted tool, “bug” mitchell, went unhanged, henderson felt himself on probation, if not shamed. mitchell he despised. but pichot, the brains of the gang, he honored with a personal hatred that held a streak of rivalry. for pichot, though a beast for cruelty and treachery, and with the murder of a woman on his black record—which placed him, according to hen- derson's ideas, in a different category from a mere killer of men-was at the same time a born leader and of a courage that none could question. some chance dash of scotch high- land blood in his mixed veins had set a mop of hot red hair above his black, implacable eyes and cruel dark face. it had touched his villainies, too, with an imagination that made them the more atrocious. and hen- derson's hate for him as a man was mixed with respect for the adversary worthy of his powers. reaching the falls, henderson had been forced to acknowledge that, once again, pi- chot had outwitted him on the trail. satis- fied that his quarry was by this time far out of reach among the tangled ravines on the other side of two mountains, he dismissed the three tired river men who constituted his posse, bidding them go on down the river to greensville and wait for him. it was his plan to hunt alone for a couple of days, in the hope of catching his adversary off guard. he had an ally, unsuspected and invaluable, in a long-legged, half-wild youngster of a girl who lived alone with her father in a clearing about a mile below the falls, and who regard- ed henderson with a childlike hero worship. this shy little savage, whom all the settle- ment knew as “baisley's sis,” had an in- tuitive knowledge of the wilderness and the trails that rivaled even henderson's accom- plished woodcraft; and the indomitable dep- uty “set great store," as he would have put it, by her friendship. he would go down pres- ently to the clearing and ask some questions of the child. but first he wanted to do a bit of thinking. it was while he was looking down into the terrible eddy that his efforts to think failed him, and his pipe went out, and his interest in the fortunes of the captive logs gradually took the hold of a nightmare upon his overwrought imagination. one after one he would mark, snatched in by the capricious eddy and held back a little while from its doom. one after one he would see crowded out at last, by inexplicable whim, and hurled on into the raging horror of the falls. he fell to personifying this captive log or that, endowing it with sentience, and imagining its emotions each time it circled shuddering past the cleft in the rim, once more precari- ously reprieved. at last, either because he was more deeply exhausted than he knew, or because he had fairly dropped asleep with his eyes open and had let his fantastic imagin- ings slip into a veritable dream, he felt him- self suddenly become identified with one of the logs. it was one that was just drawing around to the fateful cleft. would it win past once more? no-it was too far out! it felt the grasp of the outward suction-soft and insidious at first, then resistless as the in blackwater pot it had been held by a pike-pole, began to. move. a moment later the sharp, steel- armed end of the pike-pole came down smartly on the forward end of the log, within falling of a mountain. with straining nerves and pounding heart henderson strove to hold it back by sheer will and the wrestling of his eyes. but it was no use. slowly the head of the log turned outward from its circling fellows, quivered for a moment in the cleft, then shot smoothly forth into the sluice. with a groan henderson came to his senses, starting up, and catching instinctively at the butt of the heavy colt's in his belt. at the same instant the coil of a rope settled over his shoulders, pinioning his arms to his sides, and he was jerked backward with a violence that fairly lifted him over the projecting root of the birch. as he fell his head struck a stump; and he knew nothing more. when he came to his senses, he found him- self in a most bewildering position. he was lying face downward along a log, his mouth pressed upon the rough bark. his arms and legs were in the water, on either side of the log. other logs moved past him sluggishly. for a moment he thought himself still in the grip of his nightmare, and he struggled to wake himself. the struggle revealed to him that he was bound fast upon the log. at this his wits cleared up, with a pang that was more near despair than anything he had ever known. then his nerve steadied itself back into its wonted control. he realized what had befallen him. his en- emies had back-trailed him, and had caught him off his guard. he was just where, in his awful dream, he had imagined himself as being. he was bound to one of the logs, down in the great stone pot of blackwater eddy. for a second or two the blood in his veins ran ice, as he braced himself to feel the log lurch out into the sluice and plunge into the maelstrom of the abyss. then he observed that the other logs were overtaking and pass- ing him. his log, indeed, was not moving at all. evidently, then, it was being held by some one. he tried to look around, but found himself so fettered that he could lift his face only a few inches from the log. this enabled him to see the whole surface of the eddy, and the fateful cleft, and out across the raving torrents into the white curtain that swayed above the caldron. but he could not, with the utmost twisting and stretching of his neck, see more than a couple of feet up the smooth stone sides of the pot. as he strained on his bonds he heard a harsh chuckle behind him; and the log, sud- denly loosed with a jerk that showed him j.n.m he watched the logs with a half-fascinated stare. a dozen inches of henderson's head, biting a secure hold. the log again came to a stop. slowly, under pressure from the other end of the pike-pole, it rolled outward, submerging henderson's right shoulder, and turning his face till he could see all the way up the sides of the pot. what he saw, on a ledge about three feet above the water, was red pichot, holding the pike-pole and smiling down upon him smoothly. on the rim above squatted bug mitchell, scowling, and gripping his knife as if he thirsted to settle all scores on the instant. imagination was lacking in mit- chell's make-up; and he was impatient-so far as he dared to be-of pichot's fantastic procrastinatings. when henderson's eyes met the evil, smil- ing glance of his enemy, they were steady and cold as steel. to henderson, who had al- nyarchand wilat he saw was red pichot, smiling down upon him smoothly. in blackwater pot ways, in every situation, felt himself master there remained now no mastery but that of his own will, his own spirit. in his estima. tion there could be no death so dreadful but that to let his spirit cower before his ad- versary would be tenfold worse. helpless though he was, in a position that was igno- miniously horrible, and with an appalling doom close before his eyes, his nerve never failed him. with cool contempt and defi- ance he met red pichot's smile. “i've always had an idee," said the half- breed presently, in a smooth voice that pene- trated the mighty vibrations of the falls, “ez how a chap on a log could paddle roun' this yere eddy fur a hell of a while, afore he'd hev to git sucked out into the sluice!” as a theory this was undoubtedly inter- esting. but henderson made no answer. “i've held that idee," continued pichot, after a civil pause, “but i hain't never yet found a man, nor a woman nuther, as was willin' to give it a fair trial. them as i've asked to try it jest chucked up their han's after the first round, an’ went on over with- out a word of apology." “i'm sorry i can't spit on you, pichot," remarked henderson at this point. “don't mention it,” answered pichot politely. “aw, jab yer pole into his guts, an' shove him off!” interjected mitchell. "you keep yer mouth shet, ye swine!” re- torted pichot. “what do you know about how to treat a gentleman? you ain't got no repose. but ez i was about to say, mr. henderson, when we was so rudely inter rupted, i feel sure ye're the man to oblige me. i've left yer arms kinder free, least- ways from the elbows down, an' yer legs also, more er less, so's ye'll be able to paddle easy like. the walls of the pot's all worn so smooth, below high-water mark, there's nothin' to ketch on to, so there'll be nothin' to take off ver attention. i'm hopin' ye'll give the matter a right fair trial. but ef ye gits tired an' feels like givin' up, why, don't consider my feelin's. there's the falls a-waitin'. an' i ain't a-goin' to bear no grudge ef ye don't quite come up to my ex- pectations of you." as pichot ceased his measured harangue, he jerked his pike-pole loose. instantly the log began to forge forward, joining the re- luctant procession. for a few moments hen- derson felt like shutting his eyes and his teeth, and letting himself go on with all speed to the inevitable doom. then, with scorn of the weak impulse, he changed his mind. to the last gasp he would maintain his hold on life, and give fortune a chance to save him. when he could no longer resist, then it would be fate's responsibility, not his. the log to which he was bound was on the extreme outer edge of the procession, and henderson realized that there was every probability of its being at once crowded out, the moment it came to the exit. with a des- perate effort he succeeded in catching the log nearest to him, pushing it ahead, and at last, just as they came opposite the cleft, steering his own log into its place. the next second it shot quivering out into the sluice; and henderson, with a sudden cold sweat jumping out all over him, circled slowly past the awful cleft. a shout of ironical congrat- ulation came to him from the watchers on the brink above. but he hardly heard it, and heeded it not at all. he was striving fran- tically, paddling forward with one hand and backward with the other, to steer his slug- gish, deep-floating log from the outer to the inner circle. he had already observed that to be on the outer edge would mean instant doom for him, because the outward suction was stronger underneath than on the surface, and his weighted log caught its force before the others did. his arms were so bound that only from the elbows down could he move them freely. he did, however, by a struggle that left him gasping, succeed in working in behind another log—just in time to see that log, too, sucked out into the abyss, leaving him, once more, on the deadly outer flank of the circling procession. this time henderson did not know whether the watchers on the brink laughed or not, as he won past the cleft. he was scheming desperately to devise some less exhausting tactics. steadily and rhythmically, but with his utmost force, he back-paddled with both hands and feet, till the progress of his log was almost stopped. then he succeeded in catching yet another log as it passed, and maneuvering in behind it. by this time he was half way around the pot again. yet again, by his desperate back-paddling, he checked his progress--and presently, by most cunning manipulation, managed to edge in behind still another log, so that when he again came round to the cleft there were two logs between him and doom. the outer- most of these, however, was dragged instantly forth into the fury of the sluice, thrust upon, everybody's magazine as it was, by the grip of the suction upon but what was now his utmost, he realized, henderson's own deep log. feeling himself would very soon be far beyond his powers. on the point of utter exhaustion, he never- well, there was nothing to do but keep on theless continued back-paddling, and steering, trying. around and around, and again and and working inward, till he had succeeded again around the terrible smooth, deliberate in getting three files of logs between him- circuit he went, sparing himself every ounce self and the outer edge. then, almost blind of effort that he could, and always shutting and with the blood roaring so loud in his his eyes as the log beside him plunged out ears that he could hardly hear the thunder of into the sluice. gradually, then, he felt the falls, he hung on his log praying that himself becoming stupefied by the cease- strength might flow back speedily into his lessly recurring horror, with the prolonged veins and nerves. suspense between. · he must sting himself not till he had twice more made the cir- back to the full possession of his faculties by cuit of the pot, and twice more had seen a log another burst of desperate effort. fiercely sucked out from his very elbow to leap into he caught at log after log, without a let-up, the white horror of the abyss, did henderson till, luck having favored him again, he found stir. the brief stillness, controlled by his himself on the inner instead of the outer edge will, had rested him for the moment. he of the procession. then an idea flashed was cool now, keen to plan, cunning to hus- into his fast-clouding brain, and he cursed band his forces. up to the very last second himself for not having thought of it before. that he could maintain his hold on life, he at the very center of the eddy, of course, there held that there was always a chance of the must be a sort of core of stillness. by a unexpected. vehement struggle he attained it, and avoided with now just one log remaining between crossing it. working gently and warily he himself and death, he let himself go past the kept the log right across the axis of the eddy, cleft-and saw that one log go out. then, where huddled a crowd of chips and sticks. being close to the wall of the pot, he tried to here the log turned slowly, very slowly, on its delay his progress by clutching at the stone own center; and for a few seconds of ex- with his left hand, and by dragging upon it quisite relief henderson let himself sink into with his foot. but the stone surface was a sort of lethargy. worn so smooth by the age-long polishing he was aroused by a sudden shot and the of the eddy, that these efforts availed him spat of a heavy bullet into the log about three little. before he realized it, he was almost inches from his head. even through the sha- around again; and only by the most desper- king thunder of the cataract he thought he ate struggle did he succeed in saving himself. recognized the voice of his own heavy colt's; there was no other log near by, this time, for and the idea of that tried weapon being turned him to seize and thrust forward in his place. against him filled him with childish rage. it was simply a question of his restricted without lifting his head he lay and cursed, paddling, with hands and feet, against the grinding his teeth impotently. a few seconds outward draft of the current. for nearly a later came another shot—and this time the ball minute the log hung in doubt, just before went into the log just beside his right arm. the opening, the current sucking at its head then he understood, and woke up. pichot to turn it outward, and henderson paddling was a dead shot. this was his intimation that against it not only with hands and feet but henderson must get out into the procession with every ounce of will and nerve that his again. at the center of the eddy he was not body contained. at last, inch by inch, he sufficiently entertaining to his executioners. conquered. his log moved past the gate of the thought of getting a bullet in his arm, death; and dimly, again, that ironical voice which would merely disable him and de- came down to him, piercing the roar. liver him over helpless to the outdraft, shook once past, henderson fell to back-paddling him with something near a panic. he fell to again--not so violently now—till other logs paddling with all his remaining strength, and came by within his reach and he could work drove his log once more into the horrible himself into temporary safety behind them. circuit. the commendatory remarks with he was soon forced to the conviction that if which pichot greeted this move went past he strove at just a shade under his utmost, his ears unheard. he was able to hold his own and keep one log up to this time there had been a strong sun always between himself and the opening. shining down into the pot; and the trees about but in the second that his eyes met henderson's, they met the flame-spurt of henderson s rifle. everybody's magazine its rim had stood unstirred by any wind. now, however, a sudden darkness settled over everything, and sharp, fitful gusts drew in through the cleft, helping to push the logs back. henderson was by this time so near fainting from exhaustion that he hardly realized the way those great indrawing gusts, laden with spray, were helping him. he was paddling, and steering, and maneuver- ing for the inner circuit, almost mechan- ically. when suddenly the blackness about him was lighted with a blue glare, and the thunder crashed over the echoing pot with an explosion that outroared the falls, he hardly noted it. when the skies seemed to open, letting down the rain in torrents, with a wind that blew it almost level, it made no difference to him. but to this fierce storm, which bent almost double the trees around the rim of the pot, red pichot and mitchell were by no means so indifferent. about sixty or seventy yards below the falls they had a snug retreat that was also an outlook. it was a cabin, built in a recess of the wall of the gorge, and to be reached only by a narrow pathway easy of defense. when the storm broke in its fury, pichot sprang to his feet. “let's git back to the hole!” he cried to his companion, knocking the fire out of his pipe. “we kin watch out jest as well from there, an' see him come over, when his time comes. it won't be yet a while, fer this blow'll keep the logs in.” “let's jab the pike-pole into his back first!” urged mitchell. but pichot turned on him savagely. “it'd be too good fer him!” he snarled, letting slip, for the first time, his deadly smoothness. “d'ye fergit old bill, with his neck stretched; an' dandy, and the rest o' the boys, down yonder, where they won't never git a smell o' the woods no more? come on, an' hold yer fool jaw. he's got a good while yet to be cursin' the mother what bore him.” pichot led the way off through the strain- ing and hissing trees, and mitchell followed, growling but obedient. henderson, faint upon his log in the raving tumult, knew nothing of their going. they had not been gone more than two minutes when a drenched little dark face, with black hair plastered over it in wisps, peered out from among the lashing birches and gazed down anxiously into the pot. at the sight of henderson on his log lying quite close to the edge, and far back from the dreadful cleft, the terror in the wild eyes gave way to inexpressible relief. the face drew back; and an instant later a bare-legged child appeared, carrying the pike-pole that pichot had tossed into the bushes. heedless of the sheeting volleys of the rain and the fierce gusts that whipped her dripping home- spun petticoat about her knees, she clam- bered skilfully down the rock wall to the ledge whereon pichot had stood. henderson was just beginning to recover from his daze and to notice the madness of the storm, when he felt something strike sharply on the log behind him. he knew it was the impact of a pike-pole—and he won- dered, with a kind of scornful disgust, what pichot could be wanting of him now. he felt the log being dragged backwards, then held close against the smooth wall of the pot. a moment more and his bonds were being cut-but laboriously, as if with a small knife and by weak hands. then he caught sight of the hands, which were little and brown and rough-and realized with a great burst of wonder and tenderness that “baisley's Şis,” by some miracle of miracles, had come to his rescue. in a few seconds the ropes fell apart, and he lifted himself, to see the child stooping down with anxious ado- ration in her eyes. “sis!” he cried. “you!” “oh, mr. henderson, come quick!" she panted. “they may git back any minnit.” and clutching him by the shoulder, she tried to pull him up by main strength. but hen- derson needed no urging. life, with the re- turn of hope, had surged back into nerve and muscle; and in hardly more time than it takes to tell it, the two had clambered side by side to the rim of the pot, and darted into the covert of the tossing trees. no sooner were they in hiding than hen- derson remembered his rifle and slipped back to get it. his enemies had not discovered it. it had fallen into the moss, but the well- oiled, perfect-fitting chamber had kept its cartridges dry. with that weapon in his hands, henderson felt himself once more mas- ter of the situation. weariness and appre- hension together slipped from him, and one purpose took complete possession of him. he would settle with red pichot right there, on the spot where he had been taught the terrible lesson of fear. he felt that he could not really feel himself a man again, unless he could wipe out the whole score before the sun of that day should set. in blackwater pot the rain and wind were diminishing now; footsteps. then pichot went by at a swing- the lightning was a mere shuddering gleam ing stride, with mitchell skulking obediently over the hill-tops beyond the river; and the at his heels. thunder no longer made itself heard above henderson half raised his rifle, and his face the tumult of the falls. henderson's plans turned gray and cold like steel. but it was were soon laid. then he turned to sis, who no part of his plan to shoot even red pichot stood silent and motionless close at his side, in the back. from the manner of the two her big, alert, shy eyes watching like a hunted ruffians, it was plain that they had no sus- deer's the trail by which red pichot might picion of the turn that affairs had taken. return to learn his victim's fate. she was to them it was as sure as that two and two trembling in her heart, at every moment that make four, that henderson was still on his henderson lingered within that zone of log in the pot, if he had not already gone over peril. but she would not presume to sug- into the caldron. as they reached the rim, gest any move. suddenly henderson laid henderson stepped out into the trail behind an arm about her little shoulders. them, his gun balanced ready like a trap- “you saved my life, kid!” he said softly. shooter's. “however did you know i was down there as pichot, on the very brink, looked down in that hell?” into the pot and saw that his victim was no “i jest knowed it was you, when i seen longer there, he saw also that half the logs red pichot an' bug mitchell a-trackin' some that had swung there when he went away one," answered the child, still keeping her had been sucked out. the wind that had eyes on the trail as if it were her part to see held them back for a time had also crowded that henderson was not again taken un- an unusual mass of water into the eddy. awares. “i knowed it was you, mister hen- so, when the wind fell, there was an unwont- derson-an' i followed 'em; an' oh, i seen it ed energy to the outdra ft. the pot was all, i seen it all! an' i 'most died-because still emptying itself vigorously, log after log i hadn't no gun! but i'd ’ave killed 'em being shot forth into the horror below. it both some day, sure, ef-ef they hadn't went was all very clear to red pichot, and he away! but they'll be back now right quick.” turned to mitchell with a smile of mingled henderson bent and kissed her wet black triumph and disappointment. head, saying, “bless you, kid! you an' but, on the instant, the smile froze on his me'll always be pals, i reckon!” face. it was as if he had felt the cold gray at the kiss the child's face flushed, and, gaze of henderson on the back of his neck. for one second forgetting to watch the trail, some warning, certainly, was flashed to that she lifted glowing eyes to his. but he was mysterious sixth sense with which the people already looking away. of the wild, man or beast, seem sometimes “come on!” he muttered. “this ain't no to be endowed. he wheeled like lightning, place for you an' me yet !” his revolver seeming to leap up from his belt making a careful circuit through the thick with the same motion. but in the fraction of undergrowth swiftly, but silently as two a second that his eyes met henderson's, they wildcats, the strange pair gained a dense cov- met the white flame-spurt of henderson's rifle ert close beside the trail by which pichot -and then, the dark. and mitchell would probably return to the as pichot's body collapsed, it toppled over rim of the pot. safely ambuscaded, hen- the rim into blackwater pot, and fell across derson laid a hand firmly on the child's arm, two moving logs. mitchell had thrown up resting it there for two or three seconds, as his hands, straight above his head, when a sign of silence. pichot fell, knowing instantly that this was minute after minute went by in the in- his only hope of escaping the same fate as tense stillness-intense because the wind had his leader's. one look at henderson's face, dropped so suddenly that the world appeared however, satisfied him that he was not going to have gone breathless. at last the child, to be dealt with on the spot; and he set his whose ears were keener even than hender- thick jaw stolidly. then his eyes wandered son's, caught her breath with a little indraw down into the pot, following the leader whom, ing gasp and looked up at her compan- in his way, he had loved, if ever he had loved ion's face. henderson understood, and every any one or anything. fascinated, his stare muscle stiffened. a moment later and he, followed the two logs as they journeyed too, heard the oncoming tread of hurried around, with pichot's limp form, face up- everybody's magazine ward, sprawled across them. they reached the cleft, turned, and shot forth into the ra- ving of the sluice—and a groan of horror burst from mitchell's lips. by this henderson knew what had happened—and, to his immeasur- able self-scorn, a qualm of remembered fear caught sickeningly at his heart. but nothing of this betrayed itself in his face or voice. “come on, mitchell!” he said briskly. “i'm in a hurry. you jest step along in front; an' see ye keep both hands well up over yer head, er ye'll be savin' the county the cost o' yer rope. step out, now.” he stood aside, with sis at his elbow, to make room. as mitchell passed, his hands held high, a mad light flamed up into his sullen eyes, and he was on the point of spring- ing like a wolf at his captor's throat. but henderson's look was cool and steady, and his gun held low. the impulse flickered out in the brute's dull veins. but as he glanced at sis, he suddenly understood that it was she who had brought all this to pass. his black face snarled upon her like a wolf's at bay, with an inarticulate curse more horrible than any words could make it. with a shiver, the child slipped behind henderson's back and hid her face. “don't be skeered o' him, kid, not one little mite!” said henderson gently. “he ain't a-goin' to trouble this earth no more. an' i'm goin' to git yer father a job, helpin' me, down somewhere's near greensville, be- cause i couldn't sleep nights, knowin' ye was runnin' round anywhere's near that hell-hole yonder!” the lawn mower by george hibbard author of "iduna, and other stories," "the governor, and other stories," etc. illustrations by edmund frederick m iss sally ellicott was visiting v at “fairlawns," on the hill, with the stanways. mr. walter barrington was the guest of the arthur penrhyns in their dimin- utive cottage without any name at all, set in a small grass plot behind a very white picket fence just outside the village. “this is more than the third time of ask- ing," declared barrington as he stood looking at the top of sally's hat. she was seated at the edge of the fountain in the “fairlawns” sunken garden, gazing at the reflection of her pretty, distressed face in the water. “i know, walter," she replied earnestly. “ever so many more times. it's extremely good of you to do it so often." she laughed nervously. “i speak as if you were kindly solicitous about a bad cold in my head." “instead of wanting you to give me your- self and your life.” “that's it,” she said insistently, as she watched the sparkling drops fall from her slender fingers, which she had been dabbling in the water. “it's so important and for so long-and-and i'm afraid." “you admit you—like me." : the lawn mower on the “i love you, walter," she answered frank- other young people slowly approaching-a ly. “i am quite sure of it. but don't you man, and a young woman whose hat and see, we aren't like our grandfathers and dress had the little mature touches that in- grandmothers when the country was younger dicate the very youthful matron. and there was greater-republican simplicity. “i'm so glad we've found you," she cried we belong to the present, when so much as she caught sight of them, and came for- more is really necessary. we belong to a ward more rapidly. “we're having a family state and condition of life that has accus- talk-almost a family row. dick and i tomed us to so many luxuries, artificialities can't make up our minds." perhaps, which still are to us very real ne- “it's about the new automobile," stanway cessities. we have tastes and traditions that stated gloomily. .. require such a lot. could we manage it?” “we positively must have another," sup- “i'm not an absolute pauper," he urged. plemented mrs. stanway, as she sank down “i've got a very decent income.” on the grass with utter disregard of her gown “yes, but for to-day? what should we and the demands of dignity. “the point is have? what should we have in comparison, what we can afford.” for instance, with the stanwavs?” “but,” protested sally, opening her eyes, she turned her head swiftly and viewed "vou can have what you want, can't you?” the elaborate gardens, glanced up through “do you think so?” mrs. stanway an- the vista of clipped trees, and let her eyes swered almost sharply. “when we've all we rest on the white marble pile of the big coun- can do to make both ends meet-to see that try house. the cost of the town house and the country “oh, the stanway standard!” he pro- house doesn't leave a gap between income tested. and expenses that can't be filled? with the "that is the standard,” she insisted, "for box at the opera in winter and the green- those who have lived our life. oh, walter, houses and gardens here in the summer and indeed i do love you dearly, but i am a the endless extras, we're always at our purses' modern girl and i am afraid. is love in a and our wits' ends. but we must have a new cottage possible? not with the wolf at the automobile—that's certain." door—there might be something dramatic in “the old great comet we've been running that—but with the prosaic, uninspiring con- is always getting out of order, you know," ditions of narrow means inside.” argued stanway, "and besides the inconven- “i think we'd do very well.” ience, there's the continual bill for repairs. “i can't be certain and i can't decide, and so really in a way a new car will be an econ- there seems nothing to help me to decide," omy. only, what one shall we buy?” she cried helplessly, shaking her hand so im- he fumbled in his pocket. “i've got all patiently that some of the drops splashed on the documents in the case here,” he contin- her cheek; she wiped them away with her ued, producing a handful of emblazoned cir- filmy handkerchief as if they were tears. culars and highly colored pamphlets. “i've “of course a lot of money's necessary for been flooded with literature ever since the anything these times,” he admitted; "but we agents knew i was in the market for some- could manage.” thing.” “think of all the stanways' fortune. “i've studied all of them,” mrs. stanway they haven't more than enough. the ques- interposed. tion is, can two thoroughly modern young “now here's the ariel,” stanway pro- people be happy with less?” ceeded, opening a small book, the cover of “the penrhyns," barrington urged ear- which depicted a dashing maiden, accom- nestly, “have only what arthur makes with panied by a young man who devoured her his illustrating; and she was a thoroughly with his eyes, driving a motor at what ap- and typically worldly young person before peared to be a good deal over the speed limit. she made this love match, living on the top “it is," he read, “a positive assurance of of the wave and in the lap of luxury and on power. power at the wheel. power for hills. the fat of the land—though i'll confess that's power for emergencies. reserve power.” a trifle mixed.” “but,” broke in mrs. stanway, picking up before she could answer, the sound of a "folder” with a picture representing a voices in earnest discussion reached their party, each member of which wore a su- ears. as they glanced up they saw two premely fatuous grin, charging airily up a everybody's magazine and in the evening it would be truly useful for dinners and the theatre.” : “one trouble with these very high-power cars is that going slowly about town heats the engine, so that they are almost useless for such work,” stanway suggested. “i want it, anyway,” insisted mrs. stan- way. “y-yes," agreed stanway doubtfully. “i know that it's an enormous extrava- gance, but i do want it so." "i say, let's do it,” stanway broke out all at once emphatically. “can we-can we afford it?" wailed mrs. stanway, instantly veering toward caution. “but i'd give anything to have it. i can economize. we can cut off a month of eu- rope next spring. now, my dear,” she said, turning to Şally, "you can begin to realize something of the cares of married life. let me warn you to be careful.” “i know," replied the girl with a greater seriousness than the half-jesting tone of her hostess demanded. “we haven't the money, i know that," mrs. stanway continued, resuming the dis- cussion where she had momentarily dropped it. small mountain, “every day adds to the practical triumphs of the autocrat. its re- liable air-cooled motor is a marvel of flexi- bility and quick responsiveness, to control. it is great in strength because of its lightness in weight and its perfectly correct mechanical construction.” "the ariel's transmission and shafts," interposed stanway vigorously, “are made of chromatic alembic steel. it has the most effective and noiseless chain drive yet de- vised, multiple disc ". “still,” interrupted mrs. stanway rapidly, “there's the aurora borealis, with its sex- tuple opposed motor placed crosswise hori- zontally in front of the chassis and held in position by the three-point motor support, with the new pattern automatic carbureter and jump spark ignition from storage battery, model aa, only $ , ." “i can have a six-cylinder sixty horse power ariel, they write, for $ , .". “dick," announced mrs. stanway briskly, “i'm coming more and more to one conclu- sion, that if we're going in for a good machine we'd better have the best- " “what do you mean?” “a foreign, imported seventy horse-power gaillard, for example,” she declared boldly. “if you're striking that level, why not the biggest theresa and be done with it?”. “do you think we could !”cried mrs. stan- way, clasping her hands rapturously. “i know! the seventy-two horse-power the- resa with the removable limosine top, and with all the interior woodwork of dutch mahogany. the upholstering is of dark-blue goatskin. the fixtures include a card-table, secretary, sideboard, clock, mirrors, incan- descent electric lights- “that has nothing to do with the real automobile," stanway returned warningly. “the gaillard is only $ , and can't be beat for the workmanship of the engine.” “the theresa is $ , , only $ , more, and if we get it, we can be sure there is nothing finer.” “of course," assented her husband; "one can't make omelets without breaking eggs.” “the more i think of it," asserted his wife, “the more i feel that i can't be happy a minute without it. imagine all the nice things we could do with it-going off by our selves for trips through the country, or run- ning away from the house here when it's full of stupid people. and in town in the winter i coud have it in the morning for shopping, “never mind," answered stanway reck- lessly. “who cares?” . “ought i to let you do it?” mrs. stanway groaned anxiously. “is it right for us to spend so much? shall i reproach myself afterward?” "i thought that you were urging that we should have it.” , “i was only saying that i wished awfully that we could," she maintained. “think how perfectly delightful it would be!” “well,” said stanway with an air of final- ity, “to my mind there's only one point after all: you want it.” he rose deliberately. “that settles it.” mrs. stanway had sprung up also. “you're perfectly dear to say that, dear- est," she protested, “and of course if you think—" she receded promptly from her tentative renunciation. “i don't think,” he declared. “we're go- ing to have the theresa, and the less we think about it the better. it's a time for shutting your eyes and jumping in. this is a case for deeds, not words or thoughts." “should you rather,” mrs. stanway in- quired earnestly, “have me kiss you here and now or wait until we are on the other side of the hedge?” "we aren't like our grandfathers and grandmothers." everybody's magazine “personally," stanway answered, “i am doubt doubly strong and has terrified me all not in favor of any delay and should much over again. oh, walter, i said that there prefer the present place and moment." was nothing that helped me to decide, but “but the convenances," said mrs. stan- this has-almost." way doubtfully, pointing at sally and bar- she stood up. rington. - “oh!” she exclaimed with a swift little “then i propose,” said stanway, "that motion of her hand as if putting something we withdraw as quickly as possible, beating from her, “it's not to be thought of.” a hasty but orderly retreat." as he spoke she slipped her hand through his arm and together they moved down the ', ii smooth path, she taking a few tripping: dancing steps by his side. miss salųy ellicott had come to have “children!” murmured the girl when they supper at “the cottage.” it was known by were out of hearing. no other name, nor did it require any, for “married life doesn't seem so very appall- simply “the cottage” described it perfectly ing." and differentiated it accurately from all other "is that your view of what we've just dwellings in the vicinity. to be sure, the heard and seen?” she inquired intensely. neat box-bordered path that led up from the “oh, walter, how can you look at it in that white wicket gate with the high dark-green way? i consider that we've been listening to posts was narrow, but it made an ideal walk a most significant and illuminating conver- for lovers. and there could be no more sat- sation." isfactory retreat-for lovers—than the tiny he shook his head in evident perplexity. porch with the crisscrossed lattice sides, “don't you realize it? think, if the stan- covered by roses of an old-fashioned small- ways with all their wealth have to plan and ness and sweetness. the whole tiny build- consider like this, have really to pinch in ing with the low roof half embowered by the places—for them, that is what it would be overhanging elms and screened by the closer without their money. suppose we were mar- lilac bushes was the very place for a prolonged ried and wanted things, as we should, just honeymoon. as they wanted the automobile-what could nothing pleased the stanways more than we do? she would have been terribly dis- to escape from their own elaborate feasts and appointed, heart-broken, though she would crowd into the narrow dining-room of the have been brave about it, if she had been cottage for one of the penrhyns' somewhat obliged to go without that theresa. in the informal suppers. that evening they had same circumstances we could not have been obliged to refuse, as they were com- dreamed of such a thing." mitted to a state dinner at a distant country "no," he admitted reluctantly. house of the same splendor as “fairlawns.” “and, walter, i am not thinking only of having dropped sally ellicott at the little what going without things would be for my- gate they had whirred away in the automo- self. you do love me and i am thinking of bile, lamenting and waving backward hands. the pain there would be for you when i now supper was finished; and barrington wanted something and you couldn't help see- sat with sally on the miniature veranda, the ing that i wanted it, even though i tried to scent of his cigar mingling with the sweet keep it from you.” summer evening smells of the garden. not "not having everything for you that the far away, for in the penrhyn domain to get others had would be tough, i admit." far away from anybody or anything was im- she sighed softly. . possible, arthur penrhyn and little mrs. “how happy and excited they were, talk penrhyn occupied two steamer chairs on the ing about it. it-it made me jealous. oh, edge of the narrow lawn, almost lost in the to think that we can never be planning like deepening dusk. to their love-enlightened that together!” minds, the finest courtesy they could offer to “you don't mean that you made up your their guests was to leave them alone to- mind definitely against-?” he exclaimed in gether, and they had done so without troub- dismay. ling to invent an excuse. “no, not quite, perhaps,” she interrupted a faint slip of a moon showed in the purple distressfully. “but it's brought back all the sky just over the elm-trees. the summer sally ellicott and barrington remained on the veranda alone. everybody's magazine breeze, wafting up from the river, brought no sound but its own soft rustle. in the security of the darkness barrington put out his hand and laid it on the girl's fin- gers, which were resting on the arm of her chair. “i mustn't if i'm not going to,” she mur- mured ambiguously enough as she gently withdrew her hand. “but you are going to,” he urged. “after this afternoon," she whispered, for the influence of the evening and the proximity of the penrhyns both prompted lowered tones, “how can i? how can i? think of all the stanways need, and we'd have so little." her words trailed off, but he remained silent as if waiting apprehensively for her to go on. in the stillness little mrs. penrhyn's gentle voice could be heard distinctly. “oh, arthur!” she exclaimed, “if we only could. i have been looking up about them. i've got the advertisements and have read them until i know them almost by heart.” "i found what you had and took a turn at them, too,” penrhyn confessed. “there's so much apparently to be said for each one of them, and of course every manufacturer claims that his is the best, which is certainly absurd. i suppose they really believe it, though, poor men, for they seem to be so in earnest and their feelings must be awfully hurt when they know of any one's buying any other make." “minna," penrhyn asserted, "you're a goose.” “i suppose i am,” she answered placidly, “but,” she added argumentatively, “a very nice goose.” "oh, yes,” penrhyn laughed, “a very nice goose.” sally, up on the veranda, leaned toward barrington. “ought we not to cough or sneeze or something?" she asked. “they know we're here, so it's not really listening," he argued. down on the grass the talk went evenly forward. “i wish we could,” resumed little mrs. penrhyn wistfully: “the crescent seems an awfully good one,” penrhyn suggested tentatively, “or the columbia junior.” “or the halcyon.” barrington held his lips close to sally's ear-so close that a straying strand of her hair was carried against his cheek-as in- deed the nearness of the others compelled him to do in order not to be overheard. “have we fallen upon another automobile discussion?” “oh,” she whispered, "the penrhyns couldn't think of buying one. it would be utterly beyond their means.” unheedful of their guests in the interest of their subject, the penrhyns continued animatedly. “the nonpareil makes great claims,” he proceeded. “do you know, dear,” she said, “i hate to doubt anybody, but i cannot quite bring myself to have utter confidence in all the nonpareil man asserts. three dollars and thirty-nine cents seems such a small price for so much." barrington, maintaining his position of advantage at sally's ear, commented cau- tiously: “can't possibly be an automobile for three dollars and thirty-nine cents." “hush!” she enjoined, putting out her hand, which he promptly seized and re- tained. down below penrhyn's voice broke the silence: “doesn't seem as if they could make much of a lawn-mower for that.” sally looked at barrington, as he could just distinguish in the darkness, and nodded her head with a short motion of satisfied enlightenment. "no," agreed mrs. penrhyn sorrowfully. “we do need one,” penrhyn went on. “oh, we do!” his wife declared excitedly. “i positively cannot borrow the johnsons'. i won't do it, and jerry has broken his—if we only could have one of our own!” “the only question,”penrhyn pursued, “is, can we afford it?” “there would be an economy in not hav- ing to pay jerry all the time." “yes; i could cut the grass myself," agreed penrhyn thoughtfully, “and there'd be good exercise in it." “i could sit here and watch you and tell you how to do it, for of course you wouldn't do anything without my sage advice.” “oh, certainly not,” penrhyn assented promptly. “perhaps i could help a little myself with the easy parts, and the lawn could be kept looking perfectly beautiful all summer-and it would make the greatest difference in the the lawn mower appearance of the whole place. arthur, we must have one if we can possibly manage it.” “yes,” he agreed decidedly. “i've saved more than i thought here and there,” she ventured timidly. “i've that order i didn't expect," he contributed. “the suburban is a nice machine, i'm sure. the price with the ten-inch width of cut is only thirteen dollars.” “i rather had my eye on the creighton," penrhyn interposed. “that is such a splendid one," objected mrs. penrhyn's soft tones. “why, the cheap est of those are seventeen dollars at least.” “if we're going to plunge, we might as well do it." “of course it's often cheapest to buy the best.” “always," he affirmed boldly. “the suburban has such a number of ex- cellent points. the ball cups,” she recited in an instructive manner, “balls and cones- i remember the exact words-are-the best that mechanical skill has produced up to date. it has an improved ball retainer. it has further a five-knife cylinder with guar- anteed tool steel knives. it is strongly made and light running and owing to the train of gears will do smooth work on the most uneven lawn! not that ours is uneven.” “but the creighton," continued penrhyn vigorously, in defense of his favorite, “has an especial feature in the brass bushing on the intermediate gear, while the cylinder is fitted with ball bearings with the latest pat- ented adjustment for the cones, effected by means of a set screw with eccentric point.” “the suburban,” mrs. penrhyn main- tained ardently, “has malleable iron reel heads and roller hangers, closed wheels, and gravity clutch. it will cut high and low grass “the creighton,” broke in penrhyn, “has solid steel cutter bar, cannot clog, is simply constructed " “the suburban is self-sharpening.” “so is the creighton. and it has duplicate parts." “oh!” exclaimed mrs. penrhyn suddenly. "even if we can't have it, to talk about it and discuss it is fun in itself.” “yes,” he assented heartily. sally's hand, which was still close in bar- rington's, pressed his fingers slightly and suddenly. “what is it?” he asked curiously. “nothing,” she said hastily; "hush!” the others were giving them no heed. “doing anything together is fun,” mrs. penrhyn announced comprehensively. “it is," agreed penhryn. “but this time we're going to eat our cake and have it, too. talk about our lawn-mower and buy it also. there is the republic.” “with everything,” mrs. penrhyn cried, almost in awe. “we never could hope for that." “the republic," announced penrhyn se- dately, “is what we are going to have. i'll give it to you," he chuckled, “as a present for myself.” “oh, you are so good!” she exclaimed. “twenty-five dollars may be a big lump sum, but we can make it up somewhere else, and a lawn-mower is imperatively demanded. we need it in our business. so that's finished.” little mrs. penrhyn gave a small, con- tented sigh. “i never dreamed we could do it, and i'm so delighted." “that's all there is of it,” he assured her. “oh,” she informed him, “i don't see how people who are not married live at all.” the night had fallen and under the elms the darkness was quite impenetrable. “take care, dear,” the words came up very softly from the lawn, "sally and mr. barrington are there.” “then we can go down by the river,” the man's voice suggested. there was a soft rustling, then the flitting of two forms—one dimly white, the other densely dark. the sound of light steps stir- ring the gravel grew faint and was lost alto- gether. sally ellicott and barrington re- mained on the veranda alone. “well?” asked barrington gently as he stood up. “oh, walter," she cried, rising also and unhesitatingly casting herself into his arms. “what a little coward i've been! no, what a little fool!” she fairly sobbed against his shoulder. “not to see that when people truly love each other nothing else matters. that it's all relative and it doesn't make any difference what you have or haven't- what you can have or can't have " “so that if we can't have an automo- bile " “at least we can have a lawn-mower," she answered with gay earnestness, “and we'll get one at once." good hunting by burges johnson drawing by mary sigsbee ker copyright y mary sobe copyright, , oy vary sigsvee ker. able-leg jungle is dark and still, there's snakes in the carpet glade, and lions and tigers on sofa hill, but i'm never a bit afraid. my dog, i know, is a trusty brute, and i've got a gun that'll really shoot. once there was indians under the bed, but i hunted 'em all away; there's elephants hiding there now instead- they're perfectly safe to-day. 'cause i'm near the cavern of easy-chair, and i scent the track of a teddy bear! if i was like nurse or like baby sis, what never has fired a gun, i guess i wouldn't be brave as this! they'd both of 'em cry and run. but i'll stalk him down and i'll shoot him through, and i'll make him into a teddy-stew. types of women who are sharing the dangers of the revolution. a daughter of the russian revolution by leroy scott author of "the walking delegate" and "to him that hath" | saw her first at a mass-meeting at the and always her waist was of plain dark flan- i women's university in st. petersburg, nel with one white button at each wrist and held to protest against the execution of a four white buttons at the side of the throat. fellow student charged with teaching revo- to her was but one thing in all the world- lutionary ideas to soldiers—a protest all in the lifting of her people's woes. vain, for next day the girl was shot. she a feature of russia's struggle for freedom was high above the crowd on the speaker's that the centuries will not forget is that platform, solitary, dominant-a slight, round- women by the tens of thousands are sharing, ed, girlish figure, hands clasped behind her side by side and upon equal terms with the back. her face, her whole being, was in men, the labors and the dangers of revolu- a glow of exalted anger; her rushing words tion; sharing too in its penalties—prison, of wrath and love and soaring hope were siberia, death. ... one night in her poor the soul-speech of inspired youth. just little room—in it was barely space for the so might have looked and spoken joan of steaming samovar, the narrow cot, the two arc. of us, and her adoring roommate (by turns i sought her out; i came to know her well. they slept upon the floor)—vera told me her her name was vera sazonova, and she was story: the story of one of these thousands of eighteen. she was all we most desire in women ready to suffer all things: told it in girlhood—simple, direct, gentle, sweet. and her low, soft voice, quietly, dry-eyed, mar- she was beautiful, with fathomless blue eyes veling that it should interest me, interrupting and the fresh bloom of youth—though al- again and again to exclaim, “why, to us all, ways her brown hair was drawn plainly back, this seems so common!” everybody's magazine i am a jewess. i come from one of the large provincial cities, where my father is an army surgeon of the lowest rank. few doc- tors are so able, and few have given such brilliant service. he is a veteran of the turkish war, and his breast is bright with medals. yet he has never been promoted. for thirty years and more young men, stupid men, inefficient men, have been passing him. white-haired, wise, deeply learned, he still ranks with the youngsters. why this should be so i often wondered as a child. at ten i graduated from school and tried to enter the gymnasium. though i graduated at the head of my class, though there was plenty of room, i was refused ad- mission. i began to understand my father's case. he and i, we were kept down because we were jews. but we are of a wealthy family, though my father is poor, and for jews we have much ing and clever; and she never wearied talking of what “my qualities," with her wealth and position, would do for me when i was grown. i tried to love her, but i could not. even as a child i vaguely felt that she was vain and self-seeking. she had many friends among government officials, whom she often showily entertained, and to keep in their good graces was ever her foremost thought. all this while i was sheltered from political suffering, as are the rich who have official favor. and i knew no more about the real russia than if i had been born in another world. the czar was supreme-his rule was perfect, his will was god's will: so i was taught, and so the government, in church and school, strives that all shall be taught. i have always been eager for learning. when i finished the gymnasium two years ago, at sixteen, i came to petersburg and entered the university. and in the begin- the czar's answer to the cry for freedom. influence. after three months of begging ning here, too, i was sheltered from political and bribing and using pressure, my father ideas. i lived with a friend of my aunt, the got me into the gymnasium. soon a rich, wife of a general. they had frequent parties childless aunt, the widow of a banker, pre- and often went out, and though so young vailed upon my parents to let me live with i was at my aunt's desire always with them. her. i was to be her heir, i lived with her the men at these dinners and balls were till i was sixteen, and here i had everything officers and government officials. i came to —the finest of clothes, the most comfortable know many of the younger men; they paid of homes, private masters in singing, draw- me attentions, of course, as they do to all ing, dancing, languages. my aunt was very girls. one wanted to marry me; he had proud of me, for she thought me good-look- many debts, and he knew i was to be rich. poverty, isolation, stagnation-a typical russian village. they were proud, stupid, narrow, selfish, just to say: 'we as a body believe you are do- these officers—and they spoke of the people ing wrong. here we are, unarmed; you can kill as ignorant beasts that could be ruled only us—but you cannot change our opinions.” by violence and tyranny. all these years revolt must have been this social life was repugnant to me, but latent in me: against my father's treatment for the first two months it so filled my leisure -more recently against the harsh, suffoca- time that i did not come in contact with the ting officialdom that enclosed me. yes, re- life of the students. but one morning as i volt must have been in me—just waiting its crossed the neva on my way to the univer- chance; for suddenly, without thought, with- sity, i saw emerge from the university quar- out volition, i found myself in step with ter and march along the river front a vast sonia, singing words of freedom to the air of procession of men and women students, sing- the “marseillaise.” my new life had begun. ing and bearing red flags. i could not guess ten thousand strong we tramped across what all this meant; such a parade, save of the neva river, past the great red winter soldiers, was to me unheard of—was con- palace of the czar, past the open square be- trary to most stringent laws. i sat in my fore it in which a few months later thousands isvoschtchick staring, till the leaders of the of workmen led by father gapon were to procession had passed me. they were be shot down in cold blood, and on into flushed and exultant, and oh, how mightily the nevski prospect, petersburg's chief street. they sang! i jumped out and ran to a girl red flags by the hundreds made the air in the procession. it was sonia here, my crimson-all their bearers were singing revo- roommate; ever since she has been my dear- lutionary songs. to hear , sing one est friend. song, sing it from their souls—ah, that is “tell me, what is this?” i cried. i had wonderful! many of us wept as we marched. to shout to make my voice heard above the ... yes, we were telling the czar: “you singing. may kill us, but still we tell you your govern- "you don't know!” she said, astonished. ment is wrong." “it's a de nonstration.” suddenly, galloping toward us down the “what's a demonstration?” i asked. cross-streets in which they had been waiting, “it's the students' way of protesting came a troop of cossacks, yelling, cursing, against the cruelties of the government. it's swinging nagaikas—the terrible whips whose " they are very ignorant and they are very poor - thongs are loaded with pieces of steel and cession. against cossacks, what could we, lead. they charged straight in among us, barehanded, do? we broke-ran. as i striking right and left with their whips-guns turned, i saw over me a cossack officer. he and pistols and swords ready for us-armed, swung his whip at my head; i dodged and it too, with their plunging horses' feet. down came down on the soft part of my shoulder, came those terrible whips on arms, shoulders, tearing my dress and bruising and cutting faces, heads! curses, cries of pain, shouts jaggedly into the flesh. i broke somehow of defiance—whirling whips, lunging horses, through the cossacks—we now were all dart- helpless, dodging students-never, never can ing hither, thither—and i tried to escape i forget that awful tangle! i saw one pretty down a side street. but in the side streets girl, a medical student, with her cheek ripped were the house porters (you know they are open from eye to chin. near me a cossack forced to be a part of the police), who had rose in his stirrups and brought his whip been ordered out to back up the cossacks. down on the head of a girl. she fell-dead; everywhere they were running after the stu- dents, striking at them with nail - studded clubs. we were safe, easy game. a porter rushed at me—big, black-bearded, excited, with the face one sees in a nightmare. i ran, but he was the quicker, and his club came down on my head. i remember no more. and from that day i have been among the stu- dents. as soon as i was able, i moved my things from the general's, and sonia and i took a room together. how different "a rough little wagon, with squeaking axles." was the students' life from officialdom! the students went down beneath the feet of his horse. were full of belief in democracy, and in the the man marching beside her was her lover; near coming of an era when the people should he jerked out a pistol and the next instant rule; and they were busy in mysterious ways the cossack, too, was dead. and the in- to hasten the coming of this era. i was stant after there was a sword-swish, and the reborn into a new world. i had left selfish- student dropped beside the girl, his head ness, death, and had come into life that is split almost to his chin. the youth of a great future. so it was along all the line of the pro- for a time i had one great desire—to learn cine everybody's magazine -privilege, money, position. so be satis- pays everything; and besides from it i con- fied, and let things alone.” tribute, as we all do, for pamphlets and pa- i tried to argue and explain. but their pers to be distributed among the mass of interests were all on the side of the govern- the people. no, no, you mustn't pity me- ment, and they wouldn't please! i'm far, far hap- listen to me. my father pier than when i had my said nothing at all; just aunt's allowance, for now fingered his soft, white i live as do all my com- beard, and gazed at me rades. i don't mind being with his gentle blue eyes. poor, for when you are my aunt begged me to always working, think- give up the revolution- ing, over a great cause, made me every extrava- you don't know it's only gant offer. when i re- bread and tea you're eat- fused she became angry ing. and fine dinners, -hard. unless i gave though paid for by rich up the revolution, of her friends, are to me utmost fortune, all of which she misery. such a waste of had intended for me, i precious money, so much should get not one ko- needed by the cause!- pek; and furthermore, she such a waste of precious would no longer pay my time! expenses at the univer- yes, i was very busy sity. but i could not yield. that winter. my pupil so that night i moved lived on the far side of back to my parents' home the city, and as i couldn't that i had left at ten. afford to ride, i spent two all summer mother hours each day in walk- complained at me. poor ing. my university work mother!—she cannot un- was heavy, and then i derstand. but father! tried to do much read- often of nights i would be ing, and at night, like out late, talking at some my comrades, i was now workingman's home, at- teaching little groups of tending a meeting of com- a village merchant. workingmen and soldiers. rades, and when i would so, altogether, i rarely get back the house would be dark and all got to bed before two. would be in bed. all but father. i never toward the end of the winter i wanted a came home, no matter how late, but father book that proved the government's responsi- was waiting for me with a candle. he would bility for recent massacres—such a book is light me up-stairs to my room, kiss me on very “illegal” indeed—and i went one after- the forehead, say “good night, my child," noon to a big book-shop where underground and tiptoe away. and never a question- literature was secretly sold. several cus- never a reproach. in his gentle heart i'm tomers were in the store, among them three sure he believes as i do. other girls. while i was waiting, the room my aunt kept her threat not to pay my suddenly filled with gendarmes—the political expenses in the university; and my father police and the officer announced that the could not afford to, with his three other store was seized and that we were under ar- children and his meagre pay. but i came rest. all of us, customers, clerks, manager, back to st. petersburg, and i took this room were taken to prison, and we four girls were with sonia. if the greater part of the stu- placed in one large cell where already there dents could make their own way, so could were ten other girls—fourteen in one cell. i. i found a pupil, to whom i taught french you know our prisons are so choked with an hour daily; and for this i got the excep- "politicals” that there is hardly room to lie tional price of fifteen roubles a month—that's down; and thieves and other criminals are seven or eight of your dollars. i still have set free to make place for political offenders. one pupil and still get fifteen roubles. that thirteen of us were student revolutionists, a daughter of the russian revolution and every day in that cell the government was destroyed. the fourteenth was a work- ing girl and was one of those taken in the book-shop. it developed that she had gone to the store without knowing its character, merely to ask a place as a clerk, and that she was not opposed to the government. she was pale and thin. she rarely spoke to us and often she was crying, for her mother was very ill-in fact, dying. after a few days she begged the officials to be allowed to go to her mother for an hour; but her request was denied. as the weeks passed word came that her mother was getting worse and worse. she begged again. but it was no use. then for several days she had no news at all; then she was told that her mother was buried. . . . she is free now, and is a ter- rorist. we were not told the charge against us and we were never tried. a thief or a mur- derer may have a trial, but not a person suspected of speaking or writing against the government. month after month dragged by while we waited decision in our cases. in the mean time the owner of the shop and two of his assistants were sent to siberia, where afterward five from our cell were to be exiled. at length came the ist of may, the day that all over europe is the great holiday of the working classes. we deter- mined that prison walls should not keep us also from observing it. one of the girls had a red petticoat, and from this we made a flag that we fastened to one of the upright pieces from the back of a chair that we took apart. this flag we thrust out the window, tying the staff to the bars with strips from the skirt. then we put our faces to the bars. “vive la revolution!” we shouted. and we shouted it again and again, till soldiers came running up beneath the window. we dropped to the floor and scrambled toward the sides, out of range. there were cracks without and bullets flattened on the opposite wall of the cell. but one girl had not dropped in time. she lay in a limp heap beneath the window. we crawled to her side-shook her called her name. but there was a round hole through one temple; she never so much as moved an eyelash. ... we were all put on bread and water for two weeks. the soldier who shot the girl was promoted. nothing was discovered against me, and in june i was set free. i determined to spend the summer in spreading propaganda among the peasants, as hundreds of men and women are doing. you know our hundred million or more peasants all live in villages of from one thousand to five thousand persons-villages of straw-thatched cabins built of logs or clay- villages the greater part of which lie twenty- five, fifty, or a hundred miles from the nearest railroad, some even five hundred. here the peasants are entirely shut off from the rest of the world; almost no one comes near them. they are very ignorant; the govern- ment has purposely kept them so, as it has tried to keep all russia, for only an ignorant people will continue to stand oppression. and they are very poor. but they are gentle and generous and have rich souls. this going among the peasants has its danger, for the government spends millions to keep the hostile spirit of the cities from spreading into the country, and to be caught is to be sent to siberia. and i had another danger. our peasants have been taught by the russian church to hate the jews; many high officials of the church have publicly approved, even extolled, the jewish massacres as righteous acts most pleasing unto god. “if the peasants find out you are a jewess," said my friends, “they may tear you to pieces. you'd better wear a cross.” but this i could not do. for me that would be a lie. so i went into these remote, lonely villages. at first i could not help fearing. but the peasants received me almost as though i were divine—the prophetess of a happier time. when i entered a village, i would send forth word, and the brown and shaggy men and the women with their children would crowd about me in some dark, smoky hut; or would gather in the street or in a farmyard, and standing in one of their little wagons, i would speak to them-simply, touching only on things within their own experience. i reminded them that the gov- ernment took from them taxes, crushingly heavy, took a million of their sons for the czar's vast army. and what did they get in return? practically nothing! always giv- ing-never receiving: that was their relation to the government. and so long as they remained silent, inactive, so long would that relation continue—just so long would they remain poor, ignorant, helpless. the only way to get juster taxes was to demand them. to demand them in the duma—and to be ready to demand them by force, for in the everybody's magazine end to force only would the government the old peasant realized this too. but it was yield. too late to turn back. he looked round at often petty officials were in these crowds, me. his bushy face was full of cunning. and several times before i spoke they cried “lie down, little lady," he said. “pull your out: “she is against the czar! do not lis- shawl over your face and say not a word.” ten! seize her!” but i would beg the he drove on, and soon i heard an officer crowd to hear me first, then decide. and curse him and order him to halt. “come- always they listened, and always they were out of that wagon! you get twice the num- with me. once, when i had finished, they ber of strokes for trying to run away like caught the accusing official, bore him strug- this!” gling to the village duck pond, and cast him the peasant was humble, cringing. “but, in. but if these officials had only known my lord, i am from another village. i am the truth-had cried out, “she is a jewess!” taking my daughter to the doctor. my lord, -had called upon me to show my cross, had she is very sick. she has the smallpox.” incited the people on, then indeed my end i heard ejaculations, curses. “you old might have come. fool, why do you stop here, then!” shouted when i had finished speaking, the men the officer. and i heard the flat side of a would follow me about, asking me questions. sword crack on the little horse's bony sides. and they would beg me to eat and would set and away the horse went at a gallop out of before me their best—and their best was black the village, and as we went i heard the cries bread, and a soup of cabbage and water. of women, and smoke and sparks were all this is the diet of the peasants, year in and about me. out. sometimes, as a luxury, they would thus all during last summer i went from give me potatoes. but never meat. they village to village, usually speaking in two vil- themselves hardly know the taste of flesh. lages every day-visiting all told over one the terrible poverty of our peasants—you hundred and fifty villages, and traveling in must see it to believe it. in the famine dis- peasant wagons over a thousand miles. trict i have often heard mothers sob out though in constant danger, never did the prayers to god to give the babies in their slightest ill befall me; and never in all my arms the blessing of death. . . . and at life was i treated with sincerer courtesy than night they would take me into their low, by our rough, ignorant peasants. and the one-room houses, in which from two to fif- same i have heard said by dozens of other teen lived, and in this we all would sleep-i girls who have done the work i did. in my clothes on the husband's sheepskin when the university opened last autumn winter coat spread on the clay floor. i started to work again among the soldiers. after each speech some volunteering peas. as you know, the revolutionists are at present ant would drive me to the next village—in a working very hard to win over the army, rough little wagon with squeaking wooden and one of the means is to talk freedom di- axles, drawn by a shaggy stunted horse- rectly to the soldiers. for this girls have been over rutty tracks (there are no real roads found to be more effective than men; the among the peasants) that wound across young peasant soldiers are more willing to dreary, houseless, unfenced fields. usually listen to girls, and are far readier to protect i sat on the straw in the back of the wagon, them from arrest. so all over russia hun- like a peasant's wife. once as we thus came dreds and hundreds of girls are now nightly into a village, we saw fire spring from several meeting with groups of soldiers, in working- roofs and observed that the place was full of men's homes and in barracks. to go into cossacks. several days before a few men from barracks and talk revolution to the soldiers, this town had burned the house of a neigh- hardly anything is so dangerous-for the girl boring landlord who, in the frequent fashion caught is tried by court-martial and in a day of russian landlords, had long been cheating or two is executed. and oppressing the village; and now, in pun such is my work. i usually dress, as do ishment, the cossacks had suddenly de the other girls, in a black jacket with a black scended with the purpose of burning homes shawl tightly over my head, so that i can indiscriminately and flogging the entire pop- pass as a soldier's working-girl sweetheart. ulation, men and women. sometimes i meet five or six in a working- if i fell into the cossacks' hands they would man's bare, one-roomed home-no more discover what i was, and all would be over. than five or six, for more persons coming to- a daughter of the russian revolution gether would excite police suspicion, and worry. you're safe; they won't tell who lead to the arrest of all. we huddle close you are.” and i speak to them in a whisper—that per- “but will anything serious happen to haps a crying baby interrupts. and when them?” i asked. the converted soldiers can arrange a meeting “they'll be shot,” he said. in the barracks, on nights when no officers i was astounded—though what was more are to be around, i go there. this is much natural? after he had gone i thought for better, for here instead of five i can talk to several minutes-hard. i could not let those fifty or a hundred. they are eager to learn two splendid fellows die in my stead. never! -so eager! this underground fire is spread- but whatever i did i had to do at once, ing–i cannot tell you how rapidly it spreads. for i knew the awful quickness of courts- and the day will come when their captains martial. will order them to shoot, and they will not i decided to go to prince m- i had shoot—when their guns will be with us. to dress finely in going to him that i might two weeks ago i had it shown me how not attract attention; so i slipped into the loyal to us girls the soldiers can bemand one rich dress and the fur coat that i still also i came nearer death than ever before. have from the other days. near two o'clock it was at a meeting in one of the barracks i reached prince m- 's apartment. i ex- arranged for by two of my soldier friends. pected that i should first have to rouse a serv- the soldiers stood me on one of the long ant who would rouse the prince, but i was tables in the mess-room, set two candles at admitted immediately and ushered straight my feet, and gathered about me—a hundred into a brightly lighted dining-room. before or more dim, earnest, heavy peasant faces. me was a table covered with rich foods, i had been speaking for perhaps an hour, glasses, and many bottles. around the table the soldiers were hot with enthusiasm, when were prince m- and three other young a voice rang out from the doorway: officers. and there were four women. the “seize her!” women ... you know the kind of women we all looked. there stood one of the they were. young officers i had known well two years be- one of the officers rose and came unstead- fore-prince m- he had forgotten some ily toward me. “ha, sergius, so you saved papers, had returned to the barracks for the prettiest till the last. well, i get the first them, and had been drawn to the mess-room kiss!” by the strange sound of a woman's voice. but prince m- , who recognized me, i sprang from the table with a blind in- sprang forward and pushed the officer away. tention of running. instantly i was caught he opened a door at one side, pressed me by either arm-and i felt that my time was into a sitting-room, followed me, and closed come. but a voice sounded in my ear: the door. then he turned and gazed at me. “don't struggle--say nothing." i looked, in society he is considered a very handsome and saw that my captors were my two man-tall, straight, aristocratic, with white friends. cheeks and a dark mustache. he was now we marched to the door, many of the flushed with wine, but was sober compared soldiers crowding about us. i kept my head with the others. turned away so that the officer could not “i must apologize to you for that,” he recognize me. “take her to the barracks stammered. prison,” he said. as we passed out into the i could say nothing for the moment. i snowy night, the hands on my arms loosened. was so shocked. i had regarded him as one “run!” one of the men whispered. i darted of the best of my officer acquaintances-yet i out the gate-doubled in and out among the well knew that just so all russian officials dark streets of that part of the city-and an live. hour later i was back here in my room. we sat down and i went straight at the two hours afterward, toward one o'clock, business of my coming. “you arrested to- there was a knock on my door. i opened it, night two soldiers for helping a girl escape and was saluted by a soldier-a close com- from the barracks." rade of my two friends. he came in awk his embarrassment left him; he looked at wardly and told me that his two comrades me in amazement. “yes. but you! how had been arrested. “they said for me to should you know it?” come to you," he went on, “so you wouldn't i did not reply. “and they will be shot?” everybody's magazine me." “such will doubtless be their sentence.” “that to-morrow i shall probably be un- “but if the girl, the real offender, could able to identify the two arrested men as the be delivered into your hands, would you not guilty ones.” set them free?" “you mean they'll be set free?" “i don't understand all this,” he said. “yes.” “those soldiers are my friends. i do not i thanked him with all my heart. i am want them shot.” ready to die, if need be, but still death is not “well—at least they'd get off with a easy, and there is so much i want to do. he lighter penalty.” promised that all should be as he had said, “then,” i said, “i have come to give and i started away. he asked if he might myself up.” not escort me home, but i refused; for him he stared at me. presently he began to to be seen with me might place him in dan- understand. “you, vera sazonova, you ger. as we went through the hall, we again have become a revolutionist! . . . and you heard singing and the rattle of glasses. he mean to say you were that girl!” flushed-seemed to struggle a moment—then “yes.” in a whisper asked if i would not some time “and you want to be executed so that talk to him about the aims of the revolution. they may get off!” i promised, and named a place of meeting. "i can't let them die for trying to save then he let me out into the night, and after an hour of walking through silent, snowy he stared long at me. his face began to streets, i was again here in my room. glow; his head shook slowly. “such stuff this work among the soldiers i still do. as you revolutionists are made of!” he and everywhere; secretly, such work goes whispered. on-among peasants, among soldiers, among just then in the next room a woman's workingmen. in enlightenment, in under- voice rose in a snatch of a coarse song. the standing of their wrongs, here lies the free- officers cried, “bravo! bravo!” there was dom of my people. and enlightenment is loud laughter, clinking of glasses. the growing-growing rapidly; and freedom is prince dropped his face into his two hands. coming—painfully, perhaps slowly—but com- after a minute he looked up. “i can't let ing! ... but toward its coming i am help- you do this i can't!” he cried. “and why ing, oh, so little! when i think upon how should you? those two soldiers are only very, very little, i am pierced with shame. peasants, and what difference is a couple of i am so ignorant! so weak! and how i peasants more or less?” want to help! oh, that i had more power i spoke back earnestly, and i finally con- to help my people! vinced him that i was determined to die in place of the two soldiers. he was thoughtful she ended, her fresh young face aglow with for a long space. then a queer look came hope, aquiver with her poignant yearning. into his pale face. ... but this was not her story's end. that “after all,” he said, “i'm not so sure that came to me a week ago in a letter from st. those two men were the ones that let you petersburg, giving news of acquaintances escape. the mess hall was dark, and it's there. “and of course you remember vera hard to tell soldiers apart anyhow when sazonova. two days ago she was caught in they're in uniform.” the barracks at kronstadt, and yesterday at "what do you mean?” i asked, bewildered. daybreak she was shot." celebrating a new ireland of the effect of space and largeness of the fairs english crowd, in that every one carries an at chicago and st. louis, though the build- umbrella, that the men wear flowers in their ings are smaller, less magnificent, and less buttonholes, that the women show gayer numerous. but in the american fairs there colors than one would expect in such a cli- was an appearance of system in the beauty, mate, and that even the poorest seems to an effect of business behind the esthetics, have some sort of feather boa or scarf. but and not the sense of natural background there are green ties and green caps not to be that is given here by the dublin hills. in seen in england; the faces are simpler and the irish exhibition the character of the peo- less dogged than the english faces, and the ple has conquered the buildings. the celtic eyes, whether blue, gray, or hazel, are the irregular beauty and charm have crept in. eyes of the celt, changing from humor to the unexpectedness of the rough-cast, oak- sadness, sentimental, perplexed, and irre- beam style of the home industries building trievably hopeful of some good somewhere- and of the canadian building is irish; and the eyes of the race that gives the world ro- somehow these buildings coax away any ef- mance. they differ from an american crowd photograph by brown brothers. electrical display at night at the grand central palace, showing the great dome. fect of incongruity with the severe white pal- in that they are slower of movement, more aces. no country but ireland, not even it aimless, less intent, and though quite as good- aly, could give such a profusion of rich and humored, far more considerate. strangers varied coloring, soft and brilliant both, like are always offering a helpful hand to one an- an irish colleen's blue eyes and red cheeks. other. if information is wanted, some kind and the people, whether they represent of answer is willingly given. the old or the changing order, are pure erin. a policeman was asked where a certain their voices alone would make the fair their building was. and while he hesitated, a lit- own. even the florentine fine arts build- tle bunched-up countrywoman, in sagging ing turns almost into an irish home when one homespun, said in a whisper: hears in it the quick throaty tones of brogues “arrah, i'll show you the place mesilf. from wexford to galway, or the excited ar- you can't ever thrust a policeman or a soldier, guing of a cute kerry man with a man from you cannot now," she added, as her feet cork. they may look at first glance like an clattered a rough accompaniment to her soft l'hotograph by brown brother's. king edward and queen alexandra at the exhibition. southern tongue. “no, they're all stupid- ago at a meeting of the irish industrial con- like, them that is recruited by dublin castle. ference, and was enthusiastically received by i have two byes: wan is a rale soldier, thank men of all creeds and all classes and of mani- god; he fought for the boers, but while i fold political opinions. yet it has always been was away in carlow visiting me sick mother, the irish habit (though the habit is breaking) the other was led asthray into the english for each man to want to save ireland in his militia. when i came home, i was met wid own way; and there are people in dublin- me shame be the neighbors, and when i some extremists of the gallic league party, stepped into the place, i saw his father had and almost all the members of the new politi- down the little tin picture of him off the wall, cal party called the sinn fein, the logical and it lies in the top drawer to this day. descendants of the fenians—who refuse to well, we don't shpake of it, but at night visit the exhibition because they think it is when i'm in bed, me thoughts fly out to him not irish. where he is, for i do be lyin' on the spot where “irish it is not,” said a wrinkled, rosy old his little shmall head rested on the shoulder sinn feiner. “four hundred thousand of me many an hour when i'd no thought pounds gone into english pockets; the build- he would live to disgrace me. well, there's ing done by english conthractors; enough your building, and good luck to you." english exhibits to put the curse of cromwell she walked quickly away, a pathetic little on it. look at the canadian building, with figure-old ireland in her prejudices. she its green board invitin' the immigration that turned back to wave confidently at the build them that love ireland is thryin' to stop. ing. it proved to be the wrong one. and the catering—all done by the english. the idea of the exhibition rose four years there's resthrants in dublin could have done celebrating a new ireland it, so they could. what matther if they've not had the big experience? and why? because the irish think more of their souls and less of their insides than the english and americans. but the dublin men could soon have got their hands in. the irish would be only too plazed to lend the loan of their stomachs for them to learn on, and the foreigners would be too polite to complain, and the english could lump it. things is come to a bad pass when a man can't get a drink of whisky un- less it passes over an erfglish bar." and he walked away, old ireland to the core, in spite of his new political principles. old and new ireland meet in the huge entrance hall of the central palace. the spirit of the new ireland greets the visitor in the little boys selling guide-books. they do not linger at one's elbow whining for one to buy—“and god bless you, for i've an ould mother to support." they take a businesslike look at one's hands to see if one has a book already, and at one's face to see if “no” is really meant, and then they brush past to another visitor. old ire- land shows first of all in a certain “cluttered” effect in the emerald hall, where the flags of all nations are fluttering, the green irish flag with the harp predominating. the walls blaze with stained-glass windows, posters, and paintings. at the foot of a flight of steps stands a copy of the ancient celtic cross of drogheda, and behind this a roughly cast statue of erin. and this, too, is erin the new — no longer the dark rosaleen, bowed and weeping. the figure represents youth (one forgets the sex). the right hand touches the harp of ireland, but lightly, for erin is done with brooding uselessly over the past, while the left arm holds high a torch; the eager head is thrown back, the eyes are full of purpose, the mouth is impulsive but self-reliant, and the wolf-dog watches intently and quietly at the feet. t here are various relics in the hall, such as old prehistoric boats, and a model of the bat- tle of waterloo, which might just as well be somewhere else. the celt is restless if you ask him why he has not one kind of exhibit in one place and another in another, instead of having home manufactures, for example, shown in three different buildings. “i don't see that we have to follow the hard- and-fast lines of other exhibitions,” said an official. “you may need to classify in amer- ica; here we don't. ireland is not america, though they say america is half irish. and faith, considering the little time we had, we counti kikuun in photograph by brown brothers. "the character of the people has conquered the buildings-the canadian building is irish." everybody's magazine just had to put things down where they were most convenient.” and, indeed, though the principle of the division of the nineteen classes of exhibits and the grouping of these exhibits in build- ings is not logical, it is convenient. the idea seems to have been to make the irish look at their own products, and if they miss them in one hall, they'll be rather sure to fall upon them in another. the most conspicuous building is the furniture, of textile goods, of alimentary prod- ucts, and of miscellaneous exhibits of eng- lish and of irish manufacture, chiefly irish, and chiefly from the country south of boyne water and dublin. this lack of equality in display probably means that the people of north ireland thought until too late that the exhibition was going to be a local affair. it does not mean that the bitter feeling, born of a sense of alien race and of differ- ence in religion, still exists in its old strength photograph oy brown brothers, "they differ from an american crowd in that they are more aimless, less intent." great white central palace, with a towering between the north and the south. some dome from which stand out four huge wings acute feeling there is yet, but it is dying out. that somehow give the effect of a celtic the day was when, even at a loss, each cross. the dome, almost as large as st. section would buy a product of its own or a paul's, can be seen far out in the irish foreign product rather than patronize the channel, and more than one fisherman has other section. but after countless attempts, said that at night the sight of its lighted head boyne water is being bridged at last, and warms the heart of him with the feeling of the true lovers of ireland hope that this time home. the ends of the supporting beams the bridge will not be swept away. of the roof are so shaped as to represent a “ah, it's a fine place,” said a manufacturer, cluster of hanging shamrocks. the center on being congratulated on the splendid spa- of this building forms a hall large enough to cious effect of the center of the palace. “and contain almost any number of visitors. the of course the woolens and linens and leather four wings are crowded with specimens of and stills can't be surpassed, we believe. potograph by brown brothers. dublin decorated for the opi:ning of the exhibition. the americans ought to remember that our switchback; a helter-skelter, which is merely a tweeds are betther than the scotch now. switchback arranged about a tower; a crystal but what's the use of that big hall in the maze; some indian conjurers who have among middle? sure, they won't let the people them three tricks only, and the “rivers of dance there at all. the irish are the great ireland.” to see the latter, the visitor goes dancers. what harrm would it do?” what through a damp and drafty winding tunnel harm, indeed? ire- in a boat, looking land could be put- here and there into ting her best foot semicircular plots forward in that set with small way as decorously shrubs reflected by as in walking mirrors placed on around and wish- the opposite side. ing, and more char- many of the acteristically. serious well-wish- and certainly ers of ireland, too little has been chiefly those of the done to amuse this cities, assert that pleasure-loving the amusements people. all the di- are quite sufficient; versions offered that it is better not them are shooting- to distract the galleries where minds of the peo- hares and pheas- ple from the edu- ants circle slowly cative value of the against a back- exhibition. in any ground of green case, the native painted hills; spectators take a water - chute; a the lake in the grounds. amiably their lack copyright, , by i'm. lawrence, dublin. everybody's magazine of chance to frolic, for in queer, unexpected america, the greatest space being given to ways the irish are docile. they try their the work of english and irish artists. all hackneyed amusements over and over again, branches of art are to be seen, from oil- and those who cannot afford them, walk about painting to photography, in which america and look at the electric lights and at the has rather a good collection of specimens. great dome. old ireland likes so much light in painting famous names are represented- because it is new to him, and pretty; young corot, millet, rosa bonheur, watts, rossetti, ireland loves the beauty, but he is ready burne-jones, abbey — and also unfamiliar to explain the scientific and mechanical ap- names. the committee tried to select works pliances which produce the beauty. the of promise in order to encourage rising tal- water-chute, how- ever, is the chief attraction. "man alive," said the old sinn feiner, lingering outside the gates where he could get the best view of the spot, “if i could sneak in blindfold-like, and have a ride down the water - chute, i'd be tempted. did ye hear how a boat upset in the wather the other day, and an or- angeman from belfast and an englishman start- ed to bate the face off each other, not knowing at all they were both unionists? they say 'twould have been grand if the police hadn't pulled them out. copyright, , by w'm. lawrence, dublu. ah, well, i sup- pose i can't go in at all. but principles is cold comfort when ent. in the irish section the spectator is a man'd rather be with his friends.” given a chance to buy. the palace of fine arts shows best the but the international side is forgotten when international side of the exhibition, though one sees, set in the middle of the galleries, the the word “international” cannot be applied glass cases full of objects that illustrate the in any large sense. some irishmen explain irish past from medieval times down. and that it was made international because the here one day was found the old sinn feiner, pessimists said the irish exhibits would make faithless to his principles at last. no real display—one more proof that ireland “i don't be afther lookin’at annything isn't is only beginning to learn her real strength. irish,” he explained, “but when i was tould the art palace is a long, beautiful building i could see the green coat of william smith consisting of seven galleries. the pictures, o'brien-may he live in glory forever!—i which are chiefly modern, represent speci- thought i'd come. sure, the other sinn mens from fourteen countries, including feiners may live to see it other ways, but i'm the facade of the fine arts building. celebrating a new ireland an ould man, and i had to take my chance “will you belave me," said the old man, when i could." "there do be but two relics of robert emmet his logic pleased him for a moment, and in all the place. one is his blunderbuss, and then he added: what will you say when i tell you 'tis in that "mind you, i've been looking at the grand case over there on the top shelf where you furniture and all, as my grandson gave me can hardly get a look at it, though it must the adwice. did you know watherford and be the fine blunderbuss entirely; and down cork was famous for silver plate and cut on the middle shelf, in plain sight, ivory glass and jewelry and putting covers on handle and all, is the sword of cromwell. books? we were a rale artistic nation in what do you call that but an insult? “the other rel- ic? a copy of the death - mask of him, and how the poor cheeks is sunk in. i'm thinking they did- n't thrate him anny too well in prison. well, god knows enough good blood has been spilt in ire- land to save us all, and yet i could hardly get me grandson to look at this mask at all. “an elegant patriot he was,' says he, “but come over and see the grand power-pro- ducing appliances in the palace of industries, and take a look at the copy of them fur- naces of the bat- tle-ship dread- nought.' what the palace restaurant and view of the esplanade. did the dread- nought ever do the ould days, till england crushed it out of for ireland? i sent him to the right-about us." to look at the chairs and mace and things all sorts of relics are to be seen, from the they used to have in the irish house of ancient stone chair of the o'neills of clanna- commons, that we'll have again some day, boye to the tiny first clothes of lord edward plaze god. ah, well, the young don't love fitzgerald; and from a copy of the book of ireland as we did in ' .” the dun cow to the green harp of thomas the grandson had the body of one fed too moore. and here again the old and the much on vegetables and poor bread, but he new ireland showed. many younger people showed the face of young ireland, with the looked with patriotic interest indeed, but even new spirit of alertness and enterprise in the this was largely from the educational stand- eyes. point. they wanted to see how things were “grandfather should get his shilling's made in the ancient days. they were inter- worth in the other buildings too,” he re- ested in the bronze vessels and the old swords. marked. “it's fine here. did ye see the copyright, , m. lara reme, dublin everybody's magazine irish sculpture? did ye know thousands of green that give us the feeling of home and pounds of our money went to france and god both. we want to have our own coun- germany for statues of saints, with the brains thry again every way.” here for making them and hands ready to “do you think you are winning her back?” larn? but for them as wanted to larn there “i do. but the throuble with us is we've was nothing to do but emigrate--and us talked too much, and put our trust in others tryin' so hard to stop emigration. but we've and not done enough. musha, if only our started sculpture now. you see, i've been hands had the skill of our tongues! so i taking the classes and so i am interested-like belave what the department tells me that in all we do.” there spoke new ireland. ireland must educate its hands and brains.” the new ireland shows best in the home “the department” is the familiar term manufactures. these do not necessarily for the governmental department of agricul- promise that ireland will be a great industrial ture and technical instruction. it holds country, but they do promise that if the in- classes in practical work for men, women, dustries go on growing, thousands of de- · and children all over the country, and will serving and really capable human beings will give expert advice free to any business man be saved from misery, starvation, emigration, who wishes to start an enterprise. and the lunatic asylums. any one who has “look round and see what they're doing left the beaten track of the tourist in ireland, with their hands in here,” said young ire- where the car-drivers display the joy in their land proudly. poverty and pigs that is expected of them by there were carpets from kildare which the traveler, and who has seen the congested could be made either at home or in the fac- districts of the terrible west coast, knows that tory (preferably in the factory), and to look fisheries and boat-building and lace-making at some of them was like seeing the heart mean a chance for life to a brave and hapless of an irish forest. there were hand-loom people. weaving and carding and spinning, as carried the exhibits are on view in the palace of on in donegal, galway, and kerry, under industries and in the home and cottage the supervision of the congested districts industries buildings, but in the former the board — another government institution, effect is confused by the sight of manufac- which works hand in hand with “the de- tures from england, new zealand, japan, partment." there were beautiful arts and east india, germany, italy, by one cereal crafts work, carved furniture from bray, del- display from america, and by countless icate enameling, copper work, and bookbind- booths for the sale of sham jewelry and gim- ing. a green book of moira o'neill's songs crackery without which no exhibition seems was itself a song. above all there was case to be complete. in the buildings (too small, after case of embroidery and lace of varied by the way) of the home and cottage indus- and beautiful design. tries stands out the splendid beginning of “ah, the gurrls aren't behind," said young ireland the new. there is a cottage hos- ireland. “sure, they don't like to lave home pital, typical of several hospitals on the west for service, so the great ladies of the land coast founded by the countess of dudley to started up the lace again. such grand new educate hygienically the ignorant and de- pattherns, and our gurrls can sit over the pressed people. for the more prosperous, peat fire winter nights and make them. they there are models of cottages that can be built do toys and baskets, too. yes, we'll all be for less than $ , and, above all, there are an educated counthry before long.” the new industries lifting their feeble heads. while the exhibition has shown the many “you'll not forget," said young ireland, foreign visitors what ireland can do, it has after his grandfather had been left to look had the greater function of showing the irish hungrily at the pikes of ' , “that our agri- themselves of what they are capable. young cultural class is four times as great as any ireland sees that he needs education for mind, other class; so don't be expecting too much. hands, and character, and he is eager for it. but look at the mosaic work the man's ma- boys of the switchback age could be seen going king before your eyes; the king himself bought from plot to plot in the agricultural display, some. and the stained glass, quite a new noting what scientific farming could produce child to ireland, you might say. we got sick in grains and flax, even on bog-land. many of the fat german saints looking down on us a person at the fair, the pessimists say, looked in church. we like the slim irish figures in and learned nothing. but the attempt is the miracle-workers significant. the department, the gaelic that has been one cause of the industrial in- league, and other associations-cooperative ertia in ireland. leagues and banks literally in the hundreds— though many are asking for more political in addition to the growing movement of tem- freedom, without at present much chance perance, are pushing young ireland forward. of obtaining it, yet if the demands of oth- he knows he must not lean on any one staffers are summed up, it amounts to a little but must take help wherever he can find it comfort, a stop to the emigration, and a new moreover, the irish met one another at the industrial ireland made by the hands of her exhibition. the isolation of the island, the own sons on the hills and plains of old-storied neglect of it for centuries, and its lack of erin. this last, at least, ireland is slowly transportation facilities have made the people quarrying for herself out of hard substance. ignorant of themselves, to say nothing of the the white city at dublin is the voice, to a world outside. the exhibition has served to world often impatient with her, of an old, poor, introduce the parts to the whole. the pity and sick country struggling through many is that so many of the inhabitants were too difficulties to convalescence and working poor to attend. some were there who had through various channels toward economic been saving for four years to come, people and industrial unity, and toward modern from kerry and galway who had never be- business methods. it would be a graceless fore ridden on a train. they may be among world that would not, in the irish phrase, give those who will go home and help break her back a helping hand and a “good luck through the crust of pessimism and prejudice to you.” the miracle-workers modern science in the industrial world by henry smith williams, ll.d. m ore and more the world is coming to mi realize to what a startling and almost incredible degree the application of scien- tific knowledge has changed the aspect of the productive industries. in every direc- tion eager experimenters are on the track of new discoveries. it will probably not be long, for example, before a way will be found to produce electric light without heat, in imi- tation of the wonderful glow-worm's lamp. then in due course we must learn to use fuel without the appalling waste that at present seems unavoidable. a modern steam-engine utilizes only from five to ten per cent of the energy that the burning fuel gives out as heat — the rest is dissipated without serving the slightest useful purpose. the new studies in radio- activity have taught us that every molecule of matter has locked up among its whirling atoms and corpuscles a store of energy com- pared with which the heat energy is but a bagatelle. it is estimated that a little pea-- sized fragment of radium has energy enough in store-could we but learn to use it-to drive the largest steamship across the ocean, taking the place of the hundreds of tons of coal now consumed. how to unlock this treasury of the molecule, how to get at these atomic and corpuscular forces, is what the scientists and mechanics of the future must learn. if problems of energy offer such alluring possibilities as this, problems of matter are even more inspiring. the new synthetic chemistry sets no bounds to its ambitions. it has succeeded in manufacturing madder, indigo, and a multitude of minor compounds; it hopes some day to manufacture rubber, starch, sugar-even albumen itself, the very everybody's magazine basis of life. rubber is a relatively simple compound of hydrogen and carbon; starch and sugar are composed of hydrogen, car. bon, and oxygen; albumen has the same constituents, plus nitrogen. the raw ma- terials for building up these substances lie everywhere about us in abundance. a lump of coal, a glass of water, and a whiff of atmosphere contain all the nutritive ele- ments, could we properly mix them, of a loaf of bread or of a beefsteak. and science will never rest content till it has learned how to make the combination. phere, but unlike oxygen it is not directly available for the use of plants or animals. yet nitrogen is an absolutely essential con- stituent of the tissues of every living organ- ism, vegetable or animal. to be made available as food for plants, however (and thus indirectly as food for animals), it must be combined with some other element, to form a soluble salt. but unfortunately the atoms of nitrogen are not prone to enter into such combinations; under all ordinary conditions they prefer a celibate existence. in every thunder-storm, a certain quantity of nitrogen is, through the agency of light- ning, made to combine with the hydrogen of dissociated water vapor, to form ammo- nia; and this ammonia, washed to the earth dissolved in rain-drops, will in due course combine with constituents of the soil and become available as plant food. once made captive in this manner, the nitrogen atom may pass through many changes and vicis- situdes. as animal excreta or as residue of decaying flesh it may return to the soil, to form the chief constituent of a guano bed, or of a nitrate bed-in which latter case it combines with lime or potash or sodium to form a rocky stratum of the earth's crust which may not be disturbed for untold ages. science transforms the farm more than any one class of workers, science has helped the farmer. the up-to-date farmer knows the chemical composition of the soil; understands what constituents are needed by particular crops, and what fer- tilizing methods must be employed to keep his land from deteriorating. he knows how to combat fungoid and insect pests by chemical means; how to meet the encroach- ment of the army of weeds. in the orchard, he can tell by the appearance of leaf and bark whether the soil needs more of nitrogen, of potash, or of humus. in barnyard and dairy he applies a knowledge of the chemis- try of foods to his treatment of flock and herd; he knows the importance of ventilating his stables that the stock may have an adequate supply of oxygen; he milks his cows with a mechanical apparatus, ex- tracts the cream with a centrifugal “separa- tor," churns by steam or by electrical power but science has done more than teach him these comparatively little things. it has solved for him a problem of vital signifi- cance; has rendered him a service that, in effect, is one of the greatest triumphs of modern times. a moment's reflection on the conditions that govern vegetable and animal life in a state of nature will make it clear that a soil once supplied with soluble nitrates is likely to be replenished almost perpetually through the decay of vegetation. but it is equally clear that when the same soil is tilled by man, the balance of nature is at once disturbed. every pound of grain or of meat shipped to market removes a portion of nitrogen; and unless the deficit is artificially supplied, the soil soon becomes impoverished. as every one knows, nitrogen forms more than three-fourths of the bulk of the atmos- an artificial fertilizer now an artificial supply of nitrogen is not easily secured—though something like twenty-five million tons of it are weighing down impartially upon every square mile of the earth's surface. in the midst of this plenty, the farmer has been obliged to take his choice between seeing his land become yearly more and more sterile, and sending to far-off nitrate beds for material to take the place of that removed by his successive crops. the most important of the nitrate beds are in chile, and have been in operation since . the draft upon these beds has increased enormously in recent years, with the increas- ing needs of the world's population. in , for example, only , tons of nitrate were shipped; but in the annual output had grown to , tons; and it now exceeds a million and a half of tons. conservative es- timates predict that at the present rate of increased output the entire supply will be exhausted in less than twenty years. and for some years scientists and economists have been asking themselves, what then? but now electrochemistry has found means the miracle-workers would produce outside the magnetic field. but obviously it adds enormously to the arc- light surface that comes in contact with the air -and hence in like proportion to the amount of nitrogen that will be ignited. in point of fact, this burning of nitrogen takes place so rapidly, in laboratory experiments, as to viti- ate the air of the room very quickly. to extract nitrogen from the atmosphere, in a form available as plant food, and at a cost that enables the new synthetic product to compete in the market with the chile nitrate; and has thereby placed to its credit another triumph, second to none, perhaps, among all its conquests. the author of this truly remarkable feat is christian birkeland, a scandinavian scientist, professor of physics in the university of christiania. his experiments were begun only about three years ago, but already a large factory is in successful operation at notodden. the significance of professor birkeland's accomplishment lies in the fact that he has demonstrated the possibility of making nitrogen combine with oxygen in large quan- tities and at a relatively low expense. the mere fact of the combination, as a laboratory possibility, had been demonstrated in an elder generation by cavendish, and more recently by sir william crookes and lord rayleigh in england and professors w. mutjmann and h. hofer in germany. moreover, the experi- ments of messrs. bradley and lovejoy at ni- agara falls had seemed to give promise of a complete solution of the problem; had, indeed, produced a nitrogen compound from the air in commercial quantity, but not, unfortunate- ly, at a cost that made competition with the chile nitrate possible. all these experimenters had adopted elec- tricity as the agent for extracting the nitro- gen. the american investigators employed a current of , volts; the germans car- ried the current to , volts. the flame of the electric arc thus produced readily ignited the nitrogen with which it came in contact; the difficulty was that it came in contact with so little. despite ingenious arrangements of multiple poles, the burning surface of the multiple arc remained so small in proportion to the expenditure of energy that the cost of the operation far exceeded the commercial value of the product. and storing it in cans to the casual reader, unaccustomed to chemical methods, there may seem a puzzle in the explanation just outlined. he may be disposed to say: “you speak of the nitrogen as being ignited and burned; but if it is burned, and thus consumed, how can it be of service?” such a thought is natural enough to one who thinks of combustion as applied to ordinary fuel, which certainly seems to dis- appear when it is burned. but of course even the tyro in chemistry knows that the fuel has not really disappeared except in a very crude visual sense; it has merely changed its form. in the main its solid substance has become gaseous, but every atom of it is still just as real as before; and the chemist could, under proper conditions, collect and weigh and measure the transformed gases, and even retransform them into solids. in the case of the atmospheric nitrogen, as in the case of ordinary fuel, “burning" con- sists essentially in the union of nitrogen atoms with atoms of oxygen. the province of the electric current is to produce the high tem- perature at which alone such union will take place. the portion of nitrogen that has been thus “burned” is still gaseous, but is no longer in the state of pure nitrogen; its atoms are united with oxygen atoms to form nitrous- oxide gas. this gas, mixed with the atmos- phere in which it has been generated, may now be passed through a reservoir of water, and the new gas combines with a portion of water to form nitric acid, each molecule of which is a compound of one atom of hydrogen and one atom of nitrogen with three atoms of oxygen. and nitric acid, as every one knows, is a very active substance. it is as marked in its eagerness to unite with other substances as pure nitrogen is in its aloofness. in the commerical nitrogen factory at notodden, the transformed nitrogen com- pound is brought in contact with a solution of milk of lime, with the resulting formation of nitrate of lime (calcium nitrate). stored in closed cans as a milky fluid, the transformed tapping the atmosphere the peculiarity of professor birkeland's method is based on the curious fact that when the electric current is made to pass through a magnetic field, its line of flame spreads out into a large disk—"like a flaming sun.” the sheet of flame thus produced represents no greater expenditure of energy than the mo- mentary flash of light that the same current everybody's magazine atmosphere is now ready for the market. a little subject to tarnishing; like iron it has certain amount of it will be used in other great hardness and tensile strength; and it has manufactories, for the production of various an added property of extreme lightness that is nitrogenous chemicals — for example, gun- all its own. add to this the fact that alumi- powder; but the bulk of it will be shipped to num is extremely abundant everywhere in agricultural districts to be spread over the soil nature it is a constituent of nearly all soils as fertilizer, and to be absorbed in due course and is computed to form about the twelfth into the tissues of plants to form the food of part of the entire crust of the earth-while the animals and man. other valuable metals are relatively rare, and it will appear that aluminum must be destined progress in extracting aluminum to play an important part in the mechanics of the future. there is every indication that one of the most interesting and most im- the iron beds will begin to give out at no im- portant processes to which modern science measurably distant day; but the supply of has been applied is the method employed in aluminum is absolutely inexhaustible. until extracting the metal aluminum from its ores now there has been no ready means known of by the electrolytic process. this process is extracting it from the clay of which it forms based on the discovery made by mr. charles so important a constituent. but at last m. hall, while he was a student working in a electrochemistry has solved the problem; college laboratory, that the mineral cryolite and aluminum is sure to take an important will absorb alumina to the extent of twenty- place among the industrial metals, even though five per cent. of its bulk, as a sponge does it fall short of the preeminent position as water. the solution of this compound is then “the metal of the future” that was once acted on by electricity, and the aluminum is prematurely predicted for it. deposited as pure metal. a curiously in- in the case of the aluminum manufacture, teresting practical detail of the process is electricity operates according to the strange based on the fact that pulverized coke re- process of electrolysis, in virtue of which mains perfectly dry when stirred into a cru- certain atoms of matter move to one pole cible containing the hot alumina solution; of a battery while other atoms move to the moreover it rises to the surface and remains opposite pole, thus affecting a separation- there as a shield to protect the workmen the result being, in the case in question, the against the heat of the solution. it serves deposit of pure aluminum at the negative pole. still another purpose, as the powdered alumina in the case of the nitrogen factory, however, may be sifted upon it and left there to dry the manner of operation of the electric cur- before being stirred into the crucible. rent is quite different. electricity, as such, a process as simple as this, contrasted with is not really concerned in the matter. the the usual methods of smelting metals in fiercely efficiency of the current depends solely upon heated furnaces, seems altogether wonderful. its production of heat. any other agency here a pure metal is extracted from the clayey that brought the atmosphere to a correspond- earth of which it formed a part, without being ing temperature would be equally efficacious in melted or subjected to any of the familiar igniting the nitrogen. but in actual practise, processes of the picturesque but costly, for this particular purpose, no other known laborious, and even dangerous blast-furnace. means of producing high temperatures could there is no glare and roar of fires; there are at all compete with the electric arc. no showers of sparks; there is no gush of fiery streams of molten metal. a silent and incredible temperatures invisible electric current, generated by the fall of distant waters, does the work more there are numerous other industrial opera- expeditiously, more efficiently, and more tions involving the employment of high tem- cheaply than could any other method as yet peratures, in which electricity is equally pre- discovered. eminent. with the electric arc it is possible to appreciate fully the importance of the to attain a temperature of nearly , de- method just outlined, we must reflect that grees centigrade-and even this might be aluminum is a metal combining in some exceeded were it not that carbon, of which measure the properties of silver, copper, and the electrodes are composed, volatilizes at iron. it rivals copper as a conductor of that temperature. with ordinary fuels the electricity; like silver it is white in color and highest attainable temperature in the blast- the miracle-workers furnace is only about , degrees; and long been a dream of the experimenter. the the oxyhydrogen flame is only about two conditions under which diamonds are pro- hundred degrees hotter. a mixture of duced in nature are pretty well understood; oxygen and acetylene, however, burns at a and on a small scale they have for some time temperature almost equaling that of the been duplicated in the laboratory, and even- electric arc; and this flame, manipulated with though here quite unwittingly–in the work- the aid of a blowpipe, offers a useful means shop. nothing more is necessary than to of applying a high temperature locally, for reduce carbon-a bit of coal or graphite or such processes as the welding of metals. lampblack-to a liquid condition, combine it the very highest temperatures yet reached with a solvent, and maintain it under great in laboratory or workshop, however, are due pressure until it cools, when crystals of the to the use of explosive mixtures. thus, a pure carbon will form just as do crystals of mixture of granulated aluminum and oxide of quartz or sugar or salt under like conditions- iron, when ignited by a fulminating powder, and these crystals of carbon constitute true readjusts its atoms to form oxide of aluminum diamonds. but the difficulty lies in the ex- and pure iron, and does it with such fervor treme reluctance with which carbon assumes that a temperature of about , degrees the liquid state. under pressure, to be sure, is reached, and the resulting iron is not it will liquefy; but the pressure required is merely melted but brought almost to the about fifteen tons to the square inch. in the boiling-point. practical advantage is taken depths of the earth, such a pressure may be of this reaction in the repairing of broken im- applied by the weight of geological strata; but plements of iron or steel, the making of con how may it be attained in the laboratory? tinuous rails for trolleys, and the like. a most ingenious answer to this question was found by prof. henri moissan, of paris. it is based on the well-known fact that the man-made diamonds metal iron has the property — which it this reaction of aluminum and iron does shares with a few other substances, including not, to be sure, give a higher temperature water-of expanding instead of contracting than the electric arc. this culminating feat as it passes from the liquid to the solid state; has been achieved through the explosion of combined with the further fact that liquid iron cordite in closed steel chambers, the experi- absorbs or dissolves carbon, much as water being the englishmen sir andrew does sugar, in increasing quantity with in- noble and sir f. abel. it is difficult to creasing temperature. moissan fills an iron estimate accurately such heat and such pres- receptacle with pure iron and pure carbon sures as were attained in these experiments; obtained by calcining sugar, closes it tightly, but it is believed that the temperature ap- and rapidly heats it to the highest temperature proximated , degrees, while the pressure attainable in an electric furnace, bringing represented the almost inconceivable push of it to a degree of heat at which the lime fur- ninety tons to the square inch-a power nace begins to melt, and the iron volatilizes sufficient to lift the weight of an entire regi- in clouds. ment of soldiers. it may be of interest to explain that cordite controlling titanic forces is a form of smokeless powder composed of guncotton, nitroglycerin, and mineral jelly. the dazzling fiery receptacle is then lifted no doubt the extreme heat produced by its out and plunged instantly into cold water, explosion is associated with the suddenness of until its outer surface is cooled and hardened, the reaction; corresponding to the efficiency thus forming a shell of iron that holds the in- as a propellant that has led to the adoption of terior contents with an inflexible grip. as this this powder for use in the small arms of the molten interior matter cools, the carbon british army. no commercial use has yet separates from the iron solvent in liquid drops, been made of cordite as a mere producer of and under the almost unimaginable pressure heat; but there is an interesting suggestion of of expansion of the solidifying iron, these possible future uses in the fact that crystals liquid drops become solid crystals of dia- of diamond have been found in the residue of mond. . the explosion chamber-microscopic in size b y a long slow process the iron ingot and to be sure, but veritable diamonds. the various impurities are dissolved and fused the production of artificial diamonds has away, until nothing remains but the pure . m everybody's magazine diamond crystals. these are but fragments, the crystals originally being under such a condition of internal stress as to break on the smallest provocation-a phenomenon some- times observed also in the case of the natural diamond. the mere liberation from the intense pressure under which the gems are formed appears to be enough to cause them to fly into fragments. the fragments them- selves, however, have all the characteristic stability and hardness of ordinary diamonds. proportion of the alleged rubies on the market, for example, have this defect, and would not be classed by legitimate dealers as true rubies, but as “spinel” or “balas” rubies. gems of the true sapphire order are manu- factured by bringing alumina to a liquid state, through the agency of extreme heat: the gems crystallize from the solution on cooling. fortunately it is not necessary, as in the case of the diamond, to have the operation per- formed under pressure; hence the relative facility with which these gems may be pro- duced. a practical difficulty is found, however, in the fact that the crystals tend to take the form of thin plates, unsuited to the purposes of the gem-cutter. this is the chief reason why artificial rubies and emeralds have not long been familiar in commerce; for it is almost seventy years since the first true rubies were made in the laboratory. the earliest successful experiments in this direction were made in by gaudin, who produced true rubies of microscopic size. it was not till that mm. frémy and feil succeeded in making crystals of a size from which gems could be cut; and still another quarter of a century elapsed before a method of manufacture was devised that could put the enterprise on a commercial basis. diamonds found in steel the conditions which may thus be estab- lished in the laboratory are duplicated to some extent in the commercial manufacture of certain kinds of steel, which are cooled from the molten state under intense hydraulic pressure; and steel so made may actually contain microscopic diamonds, as professor rosel, of the university of bern, has demon- strated. it has even been suggested that the hardness of steel may be due, in part at least, to the presence of diamond particles every where in its substance. ordinarily these diamond crystals, where they exist in steel, are almost infinitesimal in size; but in one case, in a block of steel and slag from a fur- nace in luxembourg, a clear, crystalline diamond was found measuring about one- fiftieth of an inch across—this being the largest artificial diamond yet recorded. it would be futile to predict how soon diamonds of marketable size may be produced; but in the mean time the similar problem of manufacturing relatively large gems of other kinds-rubies, sapphires, emeralds, the orien tal amethyst, and the oriental topaz-has yielded its full secrets to science. just as the brilliant diamond is only a particular state of so familiar and inexpensive a substance as carbon, so these sister gems some of them even exceeding the diamond in value, weight for weight-are merely crystal- line forms of the clayey earth alumina-a compound of aluminum and oxygen. if no coloring matter is present, this crystal is called a white sapphire. usually, however, a trace of some chromium or cobalt salt is found, and then the gem becomes a true sapphire, a ruby, an amethyst, an emerald, or a topaz, according to color. the presence of a small percentage of magnesium and of silica may greatly mar the hardness and therefore the real value of the stone, without greatly altering the appearance to casual inspection. a large making gems for the market the method was adopted of fusing alu- mina in the presence of some other substance such as borax or barium fluoride which would act as a solvent. as the solvent evaporated, the alumina crystals were de- posited, their color being predetermined partly by the quantity of chromium salts placed in the original mixture, and partly by the degree of heat employed. the great difficulty about the shape of the crystals was finally met through the ingenuity of m. verneuil, who devised a method by which the alumina powder — prepared originally from a solution of common alum-is sifted down a tube through an oxyhydrogen flame. thus fused, it is deposited drop by drop on a fixed point below the flame, where it builds up a pear-shaped crystal precisely as stalagmites are built up by dripping water in a cave. unfortunately the gem thus formed breaks into fragments when touched; but the fragments are still of marketable size; and true rubies and emeralds thus manu- factured have now entered the field of com- merce. osas where did you get it, gentlemen? by charles edward russell author of "soldiers of the common good" editor's note.—in this, the third article in his series on the sources of certain sud- den american fortunes, mr. russell resumes his narrative of the financial adventures of thomas f. ryan. he shows how mr. ryan, the able but little known wall street operator, was graduated into the circle of the great and gifted financiers. beginning with his first great victory, the story carries him through his connection with the hocking valley deal up to that conspicuous and historic financial achievement—the acquisition of the seaboard air line. this is one of the most instructive examples of the modern art of fortune-making, and demon- strates the indubitable superiority of the new finance over old-fashioned business methods, limited by honesty and good faith. chapter v just pulled off a thing that showed he knew the agreeable formula and could work it as the story of the great milwaukee deal well as anybody else could. on november , , with fahnstock & if thomas f. ryan," said mr. whitney re- co., of new york, mr. ryan bought the mil- i flectively, one day in , “lives out the waukee city railway company, the largest ordinary span of life, he will be the richest of the four street-railroad concerns then in man in the world.” milwaukee. it owned thirty-six miles of mr. ryan was then a comparatively ob- track, horses, and cars. the price scure operator, whose achievements in new nominated in the deed of conveyance was $ york had been small and who, except for one and other good and valuable considerations; thing, was chiefly remembered as the treas- but the price on which the purchase was urer of mr. whitney's unsuccessful new actually figured was $ , , . mr. ryan york cable railroad. and fahnstock & co., applying the formula but mr. whitney had other knowledge of by which something is made from nothing, mr. ryan. as soon as jake sharp had won property is acquired without cost, and for- the broadway prize, mr. whitney dropped tunes and golden palaces are built in a night, the cable project and wasted upon it no more immediately bonded their purchase for of his good time, so that it lapsed into a thing $ , , , and the next day, december ist, for financial faddists and for the charges of were filed the articles of incorporation of a the “black horse cavalry” at albany. but new company with $ , , capital, , when he saw his way back into the street-rail- shares of preferred stock, and , shares road business and founded his syndicate and of common. this gave a total capitalization regained the broadway franchise, he placed of $ , , , against a nominal purchase his greatest dependence upon mr. ryan, who price of $ , , . in other words it became in all his deals his chief lieutenant enabled the purchasers to secure the railroad and executive. without expending one cent for it and also one reason why mr. whitney thought so provided a handsome balance in cash, or well of mr. ryan was that mr. ryan had its equivalent, all furnished by the in- everybody's magazine dulgent public - a result for which the always in other hands. but his time was formula is unrivaled. the central trust to come, and no man alive was better able of new york took the bonds. there were to wait, a fact that recalls another story, some claims against the old company, amount- also with a moral. ing to a few thousand dollars, that were assumed, and some other claims that were not assumed. certain lawyers had bills to be chapter vi settled, but mr. ryan and his associates from new york came into milwaukee so quietly the story of the hocking valley loot and did their business so unostentatiously that they were gone before the sheriff had a this is a little story of the agreeable chance to serve his writs. formula as the veritable philosopher's stone eighteen months later, in june, , of wealth, and how easily it turns to gold through negotiations conducted by henry c. whatever it touches. it is especially com- payne, afterward postmaster-general of the mended to the attention of the flat-dwellers united states, mr. ryan and fahnstock & and others among the little able, because it co. sold the entire stock of the milwaukee contains many useful and informing lessons: city railway company to the villard syndi- one of them concerning the view that the cate for about $ , , , a sum that in view courts have taken of some of these perform- of the bond and stock issues, represented ances of the gifted, and another being the almost clear profits. the villard syndicate exact amount of ability required to make later went into the hands of a receiver. in these gorgeous fortunes. the proceedings the fact was disclosed that i suppose few of us whose memories go soon after the sale of the milwaukee city back so far will need to be told that twen- railway had been effected, the syndicate had ty-five years ago the railroad system of the offered a very large sum to be released from its united states, which is now controlled by bargain and allowed to return the property- seven men, consisted of hundreds of separate from which the actual condition of the goods properties, some of them exceedingly small may be surmised. and quite independent. three of these little then where the gentlemen concerned in this lines, the columbus & hocking valley, the typical instance got their share of it is clear columbus & toledo, and the ohio & west enough. for the time that mr. ryan and his virginia, existed in in the coal region associates held the milwaukee city railway of ohio. henry b. payne, chauncey h. they did nothing to improve it. the com- andrews, jeptha h. wade, and three other munity gained from their ownership no shred ohio capitalists united with one stevenson of advantage. they made transportation burke in a scheme to combine and possess no whit better, cheaper, nor easier. they these properties and others. henry b. payne performed no service to society. they simply was one of the controlling powers in the reached out their hands with the formula standard oil company, from which he had for fortune-making and drew them back drawn an enormous fortune, and was the with $ , , , which the people of mil- father-in-law of william c. whitney. he waukee must supply and continue to supply has also a kind of fame in ohio and elsewhere, many times over. so you can see in exactly through the charge brought against him that how much of utility or of public service lie he purchased his seat in the united states the foundations of at least one of the palaces. senate, and for other reasons not necessary to discuss here. the other members of the ryan tastes blood pool were rich, but not so rich as mr. payne. included in the property of the three little this was mr. ryan's first great victory in railroads were some coal lands, and coal lands finance and it naturally gave him much de- are always good to have. the gentlemen of served reputation. mr. whitney heard of the pool earnestly desired to have the coal the achievement and doubtless thought well lands as well as the railroads. presently of it, for it confirmed his previous high estimate they found themselves in possession of the coal of mr. ryan's capacity. lands, the railroads, and other good and nevertheless, for a few years mr. ryan's valuable things, and without expending a cent share in the actual steering of the syndicate therefor, or performing any labor or making was small, and the laying of the course was any effort, or returning any equivalent, and where did you get it, gentlemen ? yet without risking the penitentiary. how reward the able. net profits of $ , , did this marvel come about? and a railroad are probably more than any in this simple but effective way: six or even seven flat-dwellers made that first, the seven eminent gentlemen forming year, but of course there is to be considered the pool executed twenty-four separate notes, the syndicate's services to society, presently aggregating $ , , . these notes mr. to be disclosed in full. burke took to new york, where they were the next chapter of the story introduces discounted by the banking firm of winslow, two additional characters. so evanescent is lanier & co., acting with drexel, morgan & the glory of politics that i suppose not many co. and the central trust company. with men can now of a sudden find in their the funds thus secured the pool bought the memories the face and fame of james j. three little railroads and the coal lands apper- belden, of syracuse; yet of old time he was taining thereto. the railroads they con- a great figure in new york state and national solidated into the columbus, hocking valley politics and in that peculiar and unillumined & toledo, a name long and odorously fa- borderland where politics and business fare miliar in railroad history, and the coal lands hand in hand. "jim" belden, he was called; they reserved for other purposes. a smooth, suave, resourceſul gentleman of a having thus secured control of the prop- varied, sometimes picturesque, and usually erty, the gentlemen issued upon it $ , , successful career. of five per cent. bonds, whereof it was an- nounced that $ , , were required to take two resourceful gentlemen up the outstanding obligations of the three little roads, and the remaining $ , , were mr. ryan knew him well and he knew to be used for needed improvements, such as mr. ryan; they had reason to know each laying double track and increasing the equip- other, having some interests in common ment. at least this was the plain declaration and very likely some sympathetic views. of the resolutions of the directors authorizing in it occurred to one of them, which the honds and of the mortgage on which the one i do not know, that all the good bonds were based. there could hardly be a things were not gone out of columbus, hock- stronger covenant framed in words. of the ing valley & toledo. wall street knew $ , , bonds thus issued, $ , , pretty well the operations of the burke were duly used to pay off the existing obliga- syndicate and generally believed them to be tions of the three little roads, but for a good questionable. not because they differed in and sufficient reason there was no double their essence from one hundred other similar tracking, there were no other improvements. transactions by which great fortunes had been built, but because in this instance the thing had been done too boldly and with a brutal investment, nothing; profit, $ , , candor repulsive to good taste. wall street the gentlemen in the pool had utilized the did not interfere with the achievement, be- coal lands that went with their purchase to cause such is not its way, but it held the game organize another corporation—the continen- to have gone too far and to be subject to in- tal coal company. they now exchanged the vestigation by the courts. mr. ryan and mr. stock of the continental coal company for belden must have become inoculated with this the $ , , that still remained of the newly view. mr. belden went out into the street issued columbia, hocking valley & toledo and bought $ , of the columbus, hock- bonds. with $ , , of the bonds thus ing valley & toledo bonds. then he sud- secured, they paid off the twenty-four original denly brought suit against stevenson burke, notes that had been discounted by winslow, winslow, lanier & co., drexel, morgan & lanier & co., drexel, morgan & co., and co., and the central trust company, to the central trust company. there was compel the return to the railroad's treasury left $ , , of the bonds, which they di of the $ , , in bonds that had gone to vided among themselves. pay off the syndicate's twenty-four notes and their balance-sheet then showed an invest had otherwise been used for the benefit of the ment of nothing, capital nothing, expenditure pool. nothing; net profits, a railroad system and in advance of the bringing of this suit, mr. $ , , —which might be termed fairly re- ryan had gathered all his available means, munerative work and shows how liberally we and very quietly, as was his wont, he had laid everybody's magazine in the stock of the railroad. it looked like a good thing, because there was no doubt that the original transaction was essentially dis- honest, and if the courts should so decide, the $ , , would have to be returned to the treasury of the columbus, hocking valley & toledo (where it was badly needed), and the stock of that railroad would certainly go soar- ing. at the time, the stock was inert and the price very low, for the load of bonds placed on the property by the payne-burke pool had almost broken the road's back, and all it could squeeze, gouge, and trick from the patient public (which in every case pays for these amusements) could hardly provide the fixed charges. so with cheerful heart, no doubt, mr. ryan bought heavily. so did mr. belden-quietly, always quietly. elihu root appears for ryan winslow, lanier & co. bitterly fought the suit. on each side was a great array of counsel, and without surprise we find our old friend elihu root, now secretary of state, fighting for belden-and ryan. after pro- found argument, judge ingraham, who heard the suit, rendered a decision that, while not held to determine definitely all the points at issue, ruled essentially against belden--and ryan. the ground on which judge ingra, ham based his decision was chiefly this, that the money that the plaintiff sought to recover had never been in the possession of the rail- road company, but had been appropriated by certain members of the pool to their own uses. hence it was not covered by the mortgage and hence it was no concern of belden's, whose claim was based upon the mortgage and upon nothing else. on appeal from this finding, the old general term practically sustained judge ingraham, although it severely denounced the actions of burke and his associates. it excluded from any liability the banking firms from which belden and ryan expected to recover and restricted their action to stevenson burke, who probably had no such sum of money. it is proper to add that henry b. payne and two other members of the pool were exempted from the suit, it having been shown that they received no part of the plunder. the case then went to the court of appeals. but now a very strange thing happened and one for which there has never been any adequate explanation. to this day it remains among the historic mysteries of high finance. just before the court of appeals handed down its decision in the case, there came secretly from albany a definite rumor that the findings below would be reversed and that the majority opinion would be for belden- and ryan. i may say that it is not usual for advance information to leak out concerning a decision by the court of appeals; not usual and not proper. as a rule, the decisions of this, the most solemn and august court in the state, are an inviolable secret until they are officially promulgated. but in this case mr. ryan seems to have believed that he had news of the impending decision, news that he, most careful and deliberate of men, felt that he could not doubt; and thus secure in his ability, energy, and foresight, he bought more and more of the stock, standing to make enormous profits on the advance that was to be. but when the decision came out, lo, it was against him! that burke and his companions had looted the columbus, hocking valley & toledo of $ , , of bonds the decision clearly admitted; but it held that since belden had bought his bonds with a full knowledge of all the facts and subsequent thereto and had bought them for the sole purpose of bringing the suit, he was not entitled to re- cover. somebody else might be so entitled, but not belden. something about the decision always seemed baffling and unsatisfactory. a story was circulated and eventually printed that the judgment handed down was not the judgment of the majority of the court, that the advance report that mr. ryan received of the decision was at the time well-founded, and that the opinion rendered was really the opinion of a dissenting minority of the court. ryan's pertinacity all this helped mr. ryan nothing. his ability, energy, and foresight had gone astray: there was no rise of columbus, hocking valley & toledo stock, no magnificent coup, no millions seized in a day. on the con- trary, he saw the ship of his fortunes driving toward a lee shore, and it was only by a changing wind that he could claw off. as to the plundered columbus, hocking valley & toledo, according to all precedent and all the logic of the situation, that, being a poor staggering concern overloaded with loot bonds and such things, should have gone to where did you get it, gentlemen ? the junk heap. but in the course of time there in a long, resolute, fiercely fought duel for a came a business revival through the country prize of property, one fighting with old- resulting in an increased demand for coal, fashioned ideas of business integrity, the and the wretched thing managed by sheer other with all the resources of the new good fortune to sustain itself. years after- finance. what do you think? that ought ward mr. ryan hooked to it some more rail- to be worth while, ought it not? for it will roads similarly broken-backed, blanketed show something about our new ways as these (if you will believe me) with more of the compared with the old, and will reveal still handy mortgage, and in the end sold the whole further to the flat-dweller the paths that lead curio collection at a profit-a consummation from his $ , perch to the high places of characteristic of the other side of fortune prosperity. making which consists of mere luck. but as to the light in which the courts view the creator of the seaboard air line these performances, which was the moral we started with, i cite these condensations from the financial agent of the confederacy in the scalding opinion of the general term the civil war was a richmond banking house reviewing the methods of burke and his asso- of which an active member was mr. john l. ciates. the court found that these methods williams, greatly esteemed through the south were chiefly as follows: for his stainless reputation and his good . purchasing stocks of other railroads works. he had six sons, whom he trained and getting bankers to advance money on to his own stern code of integrity and per- them by which the control of the roads was sonal honor, and of whom those that did not secured without further expenditure. in other choose professional careers entered success- words, the formula. ively into partnership with their father. the . buying contiguous coal and other lands eldest of these, john skelton williams, de- at less than their actual value and selling them veloped unusual capacity in revitalizing to the company at a large advance. broken-down properties and in endowing them with both honesty and success. ile did this . issuing the $ , , of bonds for a specified purpose and then using $ , , for a piece of railroad flotsam that his firm of the bonds for another purpose, namely, to had almost by accident become interested in. redeem the notes given to winslow, lanier & he put the thing together and made it go, co., for the benefit of burke and his asso- and using it for a nucleus, began to add other bits of distressed railroad. he had ciates. . causing the company to mortgage all its energy and enthusiasm and profound faith property to support these bonds. in the future of the south. thus he prospered . concealing the use really intended to be with the south, and so did the banking firm of nade of these bonds and misrepresenting it in john l. williams & sons, richmond. the covenant declarations of the mortgage. this was in the early nineties. in the eastern part of the southern country were then all these actions the court held to be utterly many independent short railroad lines, mostly wrong. how they could be wrong in this indifferent and unprofitable. john skelton instance and right in the many other instances williams pulled together three or four of in which they have been used (to the decora- these short lines in georgia and alabama, tion of upper fifth avenue), will puzzle the organizing therefrom the georgia and ala- ungifted mind to discern. but anyway the bama railroad with miles of track, of gentlemen had got it and continued to pos which he was elected president. he added, sess it. in the next three or four years, other short lines, eighteen in all, built some hundreds of chapter vii miles of connecting track, and made from it all the seaboard air line railroad, , the story of the two virginians miles long, of which in , when he was thirty-three years old, he was made president a third instructive and moral tale might and thus became a powerful factor in the be used to illustrate the romance of modern railroad world. business as well as the road to wealth. wealth. mr. j. pierpont morgan was then paying here are two virginians, two men of the especial heed to southern railroads, and mr. good old scotch-irish strain, and they meet williams greatly annoyed him by getting everybody's magazine possession of lines that mr. morgan wanted been informed of what was toward. osten- for himself. at that time and for long sibly and for public consumption, the cause afterward, mr. morgan and mr. ryan com- of the trouble was mismanagement by the monly worked together harmoniously, and president of the company, one beall, and its mr. ryan found that by assisting mr. mor- involution in the tangled affairs of thomas gan's plans he was generally furthering his f. mcintyre, one of the directors. mcintyre own. in this instance mr. ryan, acting for had plunged on the futile flour trust and himself and for mr. morgan, undertook to lost. the produce exchange trust com- get control of the seaboard air line, and pany had lent much money to the flour thereby block the williams game. to that trust; but examination of the company's re- end he secured stock in one of the constit- sources seemed to show that these loans were uent roads and brought a suit (shown in the wholly insufficient to account for the failure. sequel to be baseless) the ultimate purpose a few days later there appeared in the new of which was to prevent the consolidation york evening post a carefully written and, and to oust mr. williams from his position. so far as one could tell, a well-considered mr. williams went out with joy to the conflict; letter from norfolk, virginia, in which the the legal battle that followed lasted for years, charge was made and maintained that the was fought with great bitterness and deter produce exchange trust company had been mination, and ended in the victory of mr. wil- dragged down by the morgan interests in liams. order to embarrass the williams-middendorf syndicate, which controlled the seaboard air a mysterious failure line. i have not been able to find that this while this was going on, a curious incident charge was ever refuted. occurring in new york caused mr. williams mr. edwin gould, who had not before and (and others) a certain degree of perplexity has not since made the least figure in financial and might have had serious results upon his affairs, was the person that innocently pushed affairs. the firm of john l. williams & over the concern. he had just been chosen sons, richmond, was closely allied with the its vice-president, and was led to believe that firm of j. w. middendorf & co., baltimore, the management (by beall and mcintyre) the two having joint interest in enormous had been very bad. when he had declined development investments in the south, of to go on unless these men resigned and they which the seaboard air line was a part. had refused to resign, the collapse followed. these enterprises were heavily supported and an interesting discovery afterward made by in part financed by the produce exchange mr. williams was that just before the sus- trust company of new york, of which john pension all the papers in the trust com- skelton williams was a stockholder and pany's vaults that referred to the seaboard director. one sunday night in december, air line, or to the williams-middendorf , mr. williams received, at his home in syndicate, had been removed to the office of richmond, a telegram from the secretary of some one in the morgan interests. they the company requesting his presence at a di- were subsequently returned but no explana- rectors' meeting in new york, the next morn tion was ever afforded for this peculiar trans- ing at nine o'clock. it was then after the time action. at which the last train should have left for for a few weeks the trust company was new york. mr. williams discovered that in suspension; then it resumed business. it the train was three hours late, caught it, and still sails the financial seas, though under reached new york at half past nine the next another name. morning. as he was hurrying from the ferry to the meeting, the newsboys were calling extras. he bought one and discovered that nashville the news was the collapse of the produce exchange trust company. three years of fighting, fighting for busi- this failure was and still remains a mysteryness, fighting in the courts, and fighting off of wall street. to all appearances the in- the flank attack made through the trust stitution was beset by no storms that it might company, had ended in apparent victory for not easily have weathered. the williams the williams interests and apparent defeat firm and allies would have been glad to secure for mr. ryan. but to bring the seaboard practically unlimited help for it, if they had air line to the full measure of its efficiency, the fight for the louisville and where did you get it, gentlemen ? extension and connections were needed, for of miles of track at each end, it could be made course the morgan lines continued upon it a a through line from atlanta to birmingham, relentless warfare. the louisville & nash- alabama, and thus furnish the seaboard air ville was then a big, independent railroad, line with a southwestern outlet. mr. wil- owned by conservative men who had no ambi- liams bought this road and began to build. tions toward railroad expansion. it would at this time it is probably better to omit the make an excellent addition to the seaboard details of what happened next, but there ap- air line, and mr. williams and the midden- pears too much reason to think that a game dorf firm quietly undertook to buy it. before by no means unfamiliar in high finance was long they discovered that mr. john w. gates worked, by which the work was made un- was also accumulating the stock and had necessarily expensive and mr. williams was secured enough, with the holdings of the wil- deceived about it. anyway, the cost of the liams interest, to assure control. at this extensions far exceeded all the estimates juncture mr. morgan discovered what was in (just as had previously happened in the the wind. the williams party had negotiated case of the third avenue railroad in new with the gates interest and had reached what york), and the seaboard air line was soon seemed to be a definite agreement by which in a position where it must borrow money. the holdings were to be combined and the louisville & nashville was to become a part of enter the generous mr. ryan the seaboard air line system. mr. morgan, who was then in london, was greatly an this was in the summer of , when the noyed and worried by the situation. he sat money market was abnormally tight. fi- up all of one night sending cable messages nancial stringency temporarily settled upon and receiving replies, that he might prevent the south. the firm of john l. williams & the delivery of the holdings necessary to sons had many lines out. it perceived clearly complete the williams-gates deal. that it faced a time of trouble. therefore, having made arrangements to protect its schwab wakes up gates interests and its creditors, it announced in october, , that it had suspended pay- at two o'clock the next morning, charles ments and asked for seven months in which m. schwab, the president of the steel trust, in to straighten its affairs. the creditors re- which mr. morgan was the controlling factor, tained their faith in the firm, no runs ensued came to the waldorf-astoria hotel where mr. upon any of the firm's banks, and at the end gates lived, awakened him, and told him that of the seven months it fully resumed pay- there had been that night a meeting of some of ments and business; but for the time being the most important banks in new york; that the financial prospects of southern develop- they regarded the situation as serious; that ment looked dubious. they knew mr. gates had purchased great things were in this situation when, one quantities of louisville & nashville; that he day, mr. s. davies warfield, president of a was disturbing the market; and that they trust company in baltimore, of which desired to know and thought they ought to thomas f. ryan had been a director, came know where he was depositing the stock as to mr. williams in new york and said: collateral. mr. gates gave mr. schwab the “i have seen ryan." desired information, and mr. schwab went “seen ryan, eh?” said mr. williams, away. the next day the morgan interests who was not much interested. had certain conferences with the gates “yes, and i think ryan is the man to interests, and the gates interests notified help you out of your troubles. he sympa- the williams party that they could not con- thizes with you, and if it should be entirely tinue the negotiations concerning louisville agreeable to you to take the matter up with & nashville. the next thing the street him, i think you can get from him whatever knew, louisville & nashville had been sold money the seaboard may require." to the atlantic coast line, a morgan road. mr. williams is not a sentimental person, the seaboard air line being thus debarred but here was a fellow-virginian offering the from the connections it needed, mr. williams hand of southern fraternity, here was a set about forming others. there was a rail- former antagonist coming (with a chivalry road that began nowhere and ended no- that seemed characteristic of the south) to the where, but so lay that by building about fifty relief of a distressed compatriot. mr. will- everybody's magazine iams admits that he was somewhat moved by pro rata on their holdings. the so-called this act of kindness and gladly consented to a bonus stock, you understand, was a gift, or meeting. it took place at mr. ryan's house. premium to induce subscriptions to the bonds. mr. ryan greeted mr. williams like a long to this proposal mr. williams objected lost brother and spoke with strong feeling vehemently, on the ground that it was wholly of the unfortunate position in which mr. unnecessary. he was convinced that the williams found himself. actual situation warranted no such increase “you have done such great things," he in the road's indebtedness and that if left said, “and shown so much energy and abil- alone the property would right itself. sub- ity that it would be most deplorable if you sequently, he discovered that the earnings were not able to go on with the seaboard air showed a surplus of $ , instead of a line, and reap the just reward of your deficiency. labors.” when the directors saw that mr. williams a friendly loan was determined not to consent, they played their trump card. then he suggested that they should talk “very well,” they said. “it is either this over the matter with blair & co., which is a loan of $ , , or a receivership. if you name under which mr. ryan does brokerage will not consent to the loan, we shall apply business. so mr. williams with mr. ryan for a receiver.” saw blair & co., and blair & co. arranged mr. williams knew that in the condition for a loan to the seaboard air line of in which his firm stood, a receivership and the $ , , , on ample security and the con- consequent depression of seaboard air line dition that certain changes be made in the stock would be a grave disaster. he was voting trust and the board of directors therefore forced at the pistol's point to ac- by which the seaboard air line was managed. quiesce in the loan, but he stipulated that there was a distinct and explicit understand the bonus stock should not be thrown upon ing, mr. williams says, that he should not the market, which was agreed to and under- be disturbed in any way, that he should be stood on all sides. the loan was floated as free as before to carry out his policy, that through blair & co., who were to receive five the management of the road should remain as per cent, commission on all the bonds sold it was; but having advanced such a large sum, by whatever means, and who were a party to mr. ryan urged that it was only fair he the agreement that the bonus stock should should be represented. not be thrown upon the market. mr. williams agreed to this and communi- cated with his friends, some of whom readily and the interest on it resigned from the board and from the voting trust, and other men were named in their now, although the stock exchange lists places. were showing a strong recovery from the as soon as this had been effected, mr. panic of the previous summer and prices williams observed a great change in the were rising, seaboard, through some myste- attitude of the new directors and quickly dis- rious pressure, was being forced steadily covered that instead of supporting him they down, in the face of increased earnings. were bent upon thwarting him. at almost mr. williams very soon discovered by in- the end of december, , they notified him dubitable means that the agreement about that, with january ist close at hand, there the bonus stock was not being kept. bonus was no money wherewith to pay the coupons, stock was coming out; he saw it with his that the earnings of the road were insufficient eyes and handled it with his hands. he to meet the fixed charges, and that it would went to mr. ryan, whom he knew to be the be necessary to effect a new loan of $ , , principal in all these transactions, and com- of which $ , , was to be used to repayplained. mr. ryan emphatically denied the loan of $ , , from blair & co., a that any bonus stock had been sold. mr. transaction only a few weeks old. they williams said he knew better. mr. ryan had therefore decided to issue $ , , said mr. williams was mistaken. worth of three-year per cent. bonds, coup- “see your mr. dennis,” said williams, ling them with a bonus of $ , , of “and question him about it.” stock ($ , , of it preferred). the “see him yourself,” said mr. ryan, and bonds were to be offered to stockholders left the room. where did you get it, gentlemen ? subsequently mr. williams confronted mr. men got it. these bonds, $ , , of dennis, and mr. dennis failed to deny that them, issued to save the seaboard air line the bonus stock had been turned loose. from imaginary disaster, bore interest at five he could not very well deny it, for the per cent. with the bonus stock they were thing was palpable. the bonus stock con- offered to the stockholders—the blair-ryan tinued to come out, accompanied by the most syndicate to take whatever the stockholders depressing statements from the new direc- did not take and to receive, as a commission tors. for underwriting, $ , in cash. mem- these statements and the flood of stock bers of the syndicate are said to have tried to filled the air with forebodings of impending frighten and dissuade the stockholders from trouble. under this pressure seaboard air taking the bonds. anyway, the stockholders line stock was steadily hammered in the took only $ , , of the bonds, leaving market until both common and preferred had $ , , for the syndicate. deducting its fallen to one-half the price quoted when the commission for underwriting and the interest new directors were chosen. mr. williams had that the syndicate received, amounting to long lines of the stock. in the embarrassed $ , in all, the cash that the syndicate condition of his firm he found it impossible actually invested was $ , , . longer to withstand the pressure, and after on september , , the syndicate's ac- a brave but useless fight he was forced to count in the transaction looked like this: surrender. his stock was sold for $ , , less than it was quoted at the year before $ , , five per cent. bonds worth .. $ , , mr. ryan brought blair & co. into the , shares of common stock (bo- nus) at .............. , property. whereupon mr. ryan took pos , shares of preferred stock (bo- session of the seaboard air line. nus) at .... ..... , one little incident i ought not to omit. in total............... $ , , the midst of the stress and strain, mr. ryan it had paid out..... ...... , , continued to express solicitude for mr. williams's welfare and a desire to help and profit............... $ , , advise him. mr. williams, fighting a big battle single-handed, was willing to be ad or more than ninety per cent. profit on the vised. transaction. this is, of course, exclusive of "mr. williams,” said mr. ryan one day, the profits made from hammering seaboard “i have been thinking much about your af stock by means of the bonus issues. fairs, and i see the way out for you.” from which the inference seems clear that mr. williams felt glad. one of the ways to get it is to maneuver your “the thing for you to do, i am con- man in a hole and squeeze him, and another is vinced,” said mr. ryan—and he paused to manipulate your generosity so as to get impressively while mr. williams gathered returns from it. new hope—“the thing for you is to go into and besides the profits on these operations, bankruptcy." mr. ryan had the seaboard air line. but we started to find out where the gentle- why should any man be poor? “where did you get it, gentlemen?” will be continued in the november number. the amateur skipper by bert leston taylor author of "the charlatans," etc. illustrations by martin justico characters lovest, the amateur skipper. george, their long-suffering friend. sweetheart, his wife. mr. timby, a landlubber. miss wilkins, a lady landlubber. r the w hen george rowed us over the george was instructed to make the w bright blue sea to the good dingey fast astern. “we're going to yawl cauliflower, the amateur skip- drag it,” said bilger. for the enlight- per and his wife were untying the enment of the unnautical it should stops of the mainsail. the jib and be said that a dingey or other small jigger were already set, and, in my boat is always “dragged”-never in landlubberly judgment, any further any circumstances towed. spread of duck held promise of a "lively now, george,” said the ducking, for it was blowing two- skipper. “let's get the mainsail up. thirds of a gale out of the east, and peak-halyards, old man.” neptune's white ponies were kicking george had three guesses at the up their heels outside. peak-halyards, and finally got hold “good sailing breeze," i remarked of them; and while the mainsail was conventionally to george. anything short of going up, we landlubbers— . a typhoon comes under the head of a good (but i beg pardon, reader: you have not sailing breeze. met miss wilkins. miss wilkins, may i "fine,” replied george. “beam ends for present mr. reader? you know the read- bilger to-day." ers—a very large and interested family.) personally, i am not keen for beam ends. we landlubbers stowed ourselves aft, in a like honest gonzalo, i would fain die a dry welter of ropes, and mrs. bilger relieved our death. give me a ten-foot skiff with a leg- minds of any doubts we may have entertained of-mutton sail, a gentle breeze, and a bathing- concerning the stanchness of the good yawl suit, and i don't care what happens—i am cauliflower. i gathered that she was built indifferent to danger to the point of reckless- on the conservative lines of a cyclone-cellar; ness; but when i put forth in a thirty-foot it was impossible to capsize her; she would yawl, with an amateur skipper and a land- accept a knock-down as cheerfully as a pugil- scape artist for crew, i prefer a dry sheet to ist, and bob up serenely before one could a wet one, and am no fonder of a “snoring count ten. truth crushed to earth rose not breeze" than of a snoring drummer in a more inevitably. sleeping-car. while we were absorbing these comforting “so glad you could come,” said mrs. details, miss wilkins suddenly clutched my bilger sweetly, as she hauled us aboard the arm to avoid going over the side; at the same cauliflower. the amateur skipper looked moment there came a sound of ripping canvas. up from his work and nodded cordially. an uncommonly violent gust had slammed “how are you, timby?” said he. “great against the wall of the spread mainsail, and day for a sail, isn't it?” his eyes were as the main-sheet had not been cast off, nor bright as were the ancient mariner's. the even slackened, the yawl, still at her mooring, prospect of putting the cabin windows under heeled over. something had to give, and water flooded his strenuous soul with antici- the mainsail tore at a place which, i later patory delight. ascertained, is called the clew. the instinct of self-preservation led me to grasp the bobstay. everybody's magazine “oh, lovest, what a shame!” exclaimed mrs. bilger, her heart in her voice. “tore out the grommets!” said the skip- per, in hollow tones. jigger of wind? “the jigger-sail,” said i, first ascertaining that mrs. bilger was not listening, “is so called because it holds a measured quantity of wind.” " never mind me! i'li. row home. it's only eleven miles." “grommets? what a funny word!” said “how interesting!” murmured miss wil- miss wilkins. kins. “nautical terms are perfectly fasci- “yes,” said george, with a jarring levity; nating, aren't they?" “sounds like something for an english break- i remarked that the terminology of sailing fast, toasted and buttered, doesn't it?” was by far its most interesting feature, and “drop it, george,” said bilger dismally, we stood up to watch george slip the mooring. referring to the mainsail. “we'll have to i hope that phrase is correct; it clinks well. go out under the jib and jigger.” i remember reading not long ago, in one of i murmured my regrets, but they were in our smartest metropolitan journals, of a bat- sincere, hollow as a popover. secretly i was tle-ship that "weighed and slipped her an- not sorry that the big sail had been put out chor”—a feat as difficult of accomplishment of commission. the danger of an upset was as to eat your cake and have it. now nep- now reduced to a minimum. tune preserve me from such a paradox! but “which is the jib?” miss wilkins asked it is easier to gibe at the blunders of others me. i pointed it out, and explained its than to be nautically correct oneself. unique function, which is to aid and abet . george gaily tossed the tin buoy overboard the mainsail. “and that funny little hind- and the amateur skipper took the wheel. sail—that must be the jigger,” she pursued. “start the engine, sweetheart,” he in- “i supposed a jigger was something used in structed. mixing cocktails. my brother has one.” “yes, lovest,” replied mrs. bilger, and i assured miss wilkins that her supposition disappeared below. and her brother were correct; but there are we were informed that it was necessary to jiggers and jiggers, not counting the insect use the gasoline auxiliary because the chan- that makes its lair beneath the human skin. nel was so narrow. one speaks of a jigger of gin: why not a the engine chugged responsive. the amateur skipper ledig “why, i don't believe we are moving," said miss wilkins, peering over the side. nor were we. george had heaved over- board the buoy with the small rope attached, but the hawser was still catted. “you're a great sailor, george," bilger observed in good-natured contempt. george laughed shamelessly. as a matter of fact, he was no sailor at all, but a landscape artist. devoted to art for art's sake, he cared nothing for sailing for sailing's sake. he appreciated certain po- etical features of sailing, which are to be observed in the golden mean between a hurri- cane and a flat calm; but sailing per se inter- ested him no more than sawing wood, or washing dishes, or automobiling through a landscape at forty miles an hour. but george was amiable and long-suffering; he was one of those rare spirits that an ama teur skipper too infrequently happens on—a friend who will suppress a groan when asked if he would like to go a-sailing, and answer: “why, yes, i'd be delighted.” the engine stopped abruptly, of its own accord, as commonly auxiliaries will; but we cleared the channel and began to bump the ground-swell bumps with our decks at an angle of forty-five degrees. “the jig and jibber do very well, don't they?" said miss wilkins, as we retreated to the main-hatch to keep our feet out of the wet. “what a lot of ropes. i suppose they all have names.” “how many ropes," spoke up the skipper, who was enjoying a moment of leisure, “how many ropes do you suppose there are on the biggest sailing ship afloat?” i started the guessing match at a hundred. george doubled the number. miss wilkins was sure there must be at least a thousand. “only four," said the skipper: “the man- rope, the foot-rope, the bucket-rope, and, occasionally, the mast-rope. all the other hemp things are called halyards, sheets, braces, stays, guys, lines, tacks, clew-garnets, spanker-vangs, downhauls, and so on.” “there's wisdom while you wait!” said george, who was coiling about a quarter of a mile of main-sheet. m iss wilkins turned to me: “how many hemp things do you know, mr. timby?” “only one—the jib-downhaul,” i replied modestly. but i am strong on the jib-downhaul. you will observe me grasping it firmly as we approach a mooring. the man with the boat-hook is nervous; he is afraid he will miss the mooring, and he usually does. the skip- per's nerves are taut as fiddle-strings; he has no confidence in the man with the boat- hook. i alone am imperturbable.“ jib-down- haul!” is my cue. four or five yeo-ho yanks, and the jib is in the water, from which the the cauliflower hit the dingey a glancing blow. everybody's magazine skipper, cursing softly, later extricates it. a breathless nook in an angle of the cliff. it in all my sailing i do not think that i have was wholly pleasant. i could have stood it once missed putting the jib in the water. for several hours. and the artist soul of “george,” called the amateur skipper, george was steeped in content. “will you take one more pull on the jib- but the amateur skipper was restless. halyard?” george hastened forward. “trim after one cup of tea and a bite at a bis- the jigger-sheet, sweetheart.” mrs. bilger cuit, he was back on the yawl, puttering braced herself against the cockpit wall and about above and below, fussing with the hauled. hemp things, and squinting learnedly at the “mrs. bilger is a sweet little woman, isn't sky. she?” whispered miss wilkins, as we bal bilger's fad possessed him utterly. he anced ourselves atop the furled mainsail, and could work a lunar observation, calculate an spread a raincoat over our knees. azimuth, find the arithmetical complement of “sweet as they come," i agreed, and ob- a logarithm, build a sea-anchor, and tie all served that mr. bilger was a remarkable skip manner of recondite knots; and there was not per. for i know dilettante mariners, the a drop of salt water in his veins. calmly most amiable of men ashore, whose natures ecstatic, he would talk sailing by the hour, or seem to undergo a sharp change the in- day, or week. ask him what a “grommet” stant that they tread the decks of their obses- might be, and his eye would light up and roll sions. they become imperative; their tem- in a fine frenzy. inquire politely as to the pers shorten to pie-crust brittleness; they meaning of the occult term “leech,” and you treat their wives shamefully. but bilger, had leech and luff, head and foot, peak and beyond a certain nervous tension and a stac- throat, clew and tack, explained to you in cato manner of speaking, behaved very well; one breath. bilger's heart was in his yawl; and mrs. bilger was the most obedient and his mind was concentered on his mainsail's uncomplaining of helpmeets. some of the weather-edge; he thought in reaches; his soul tasks he laid upon her seemed beyond her was forever beating to windward. strength, for she was a frail little woman; “what does mr. bilger do in winter?” in- but if bilger were to say, “sweetheart, fetch quired miss wilkins, passing her cup. up the five-hundred-pound anchor," she “he talks of going south for a cruise," said would hasten below, and presently her cheer- mrs. bilger; “but i always discourage the ful voice would be heard: “coming, lovest, idea. mr. bilger needs to rest a few months. and it isn't a bit heavy." he gets so dreadfully thin in summer.” the outward run of the good yawl cauli at this point tíe emaciated bilger returned flower, with the wind abeam, consumed two to our tea-party to announce that it was high hours; and from the view-point of the ama- time we were starting homeward; the wind teur skipper it may have been a most excit- was dropping. we rose reluctantly. ing trip; he was as busy as a puppy chasing the wind was not only dropping, but it an autumn leaf, and he communicated his had hauled into the north; and we made lit- feverish activity to george and mrs. bilger. tle progress beating up with only the "jig and but from my limited view-point there was jibber," as miss wilkins persisted in calling only a slosh of sea-water. them, drawing. bilger started in to repair yachting is a pastime for the well-to-do; the torn mainsail; but the wind was run- but any one may have the pleasures of it and ning out like tide-water, and with sunset the still remain ashore. all you need do is don last zephyr expired. the cauliflower lay as a yachting cap and sit on a soap box and idle as a painted ship upon a playhouse cur- have somebody throw water on your feet, tain. with now and then a pailful in your lap; that “you'll have to start the engine, george,” will do nicely for hard-weather sailing. for said the skipper. “careful of your hand, the other sort, you may sit on a wooden old man; she may reverse on you." bench in a hot sun and tie knots in a clothes. but nothing so exciting happened. “she" line. declined to start, though george toiled over when the cauliflower rounded the lee of her like sisyphus over his stone. from the gooseberry island, i for one was glad of the sulphurous haze that began to fog the hatch- chance to go ashore and stretch my legs. way i knew that george was breathing out mrs. bilger took along the afternoon-tea profanity with every futile revolution of the things, and we sipped the wine of ceylon in fly-wheel. dr. bilger made a diagnosis, the amateur skipper which revealed the fact that the engine was flooded. precisely what this meant he ex- plained, with a wealth of technical detail. “suppose,” i suggested to george, “that you and i row the dingey and tow the yawl." water in the cabin up to my knees. now, that's too much like hard labor." “well,” said i, pausing to wipe the steam from my spectacles, “this isn't exactly a book of verses underneath the bough.” we heard an ominol's splash, “good idea," the skipper answered for at this moment the amateur skipper shot him. “you fellows go ahead, and i'll see into the field of our vision, coming out of the what i can do with the engine.” yawl's depths like jack-in-a-box. and it was so ordered. “cast off!” he yelled. “this,” remarked george, after we had we were a few seconds late in grasping the pulled for half an hour with none too en- fact that the skipper had succeeded in start- couraging results, “this is something like ing the engine, and the cauliflower just towing a brick-yard." missed the dingey as she went by us. for- “at least,” said i, “we are getting some tunately, george had fastened the tow-line action. not much plot or heart-interest with one of the fancy knots that bilger had as yet, but you can't tell what may de- taught him, a knot that came loose at the velop." first yank. as it was, the line in snapping “i'm glad to get off the yawl, at least,” clear spun us sharply round. george confided in an undertone, for the the cauliflower faded in the dusk. ladies were sitting forward, watching our “now," said george, “if bilger will only back-breaking labors. “every time i go out keep going and let us row home in peace- with bilger i swear it will be the last; but i “he's coming back," said i. never have the heart to refuse him-he's a “can't stop the engine!” shouted the good soul. but he'll have to shanghai me skipper, as he passed us; “afraid she after this." he dropped his oars to fire a won't start up again. but i'll pick you pipe. “the first cruise i took on the cauli- up." flower,” he pursued reminiscently, “she was he began circling us, and in the fast-gath- bran-new, and she leaked like a landing-net. ering darkness the yawl loomed as big and i had to bail for three mortal hours, with the menacing as a battle-ship. everybody's magazine “can you swim, timby?” asked george and munched tea-biscuits, while the indefat- resignedly. igable bilger sweated over the inert mechan- "if i'm not crippled,” said i. ism of the auxiliary, prattling cheerfully the “then we'd better go overboard now. while of batteries, spark-plugs, carbureters, we don't really need bilger's assistance." and other foolish things. “look out!” called the skipper. “i'm never have i known such exhaustless coming!” patience, such unfailing good-temper. he the instinct of self-preservation led me to worked over that lifeless engine as one would grasp the bobstay of the cauliflower and over a drowned man. now and then a spark swing clear of the dingey. i landed on the of life leaped up; he fanned it tirelessly, and deck in an ungraceful sprawl, breathless. we made, perhaps, another mile. in this “isn't this exciting!” cried miss wilkins. snail-like fashion we crawled to port. mrs. bilger was kind enough to inquire “george,” said the skipper, “would you whether i was hurt. mind picking up the mooring?”. “now for george!” said the skipper, “delighted,” replied george morosely. spinning the wheel to port. “don't miss it,” adjured bilger, with the “never mind me!” shouted the artist, first touch of anxiety in his voice i had ob- scarcely discernible in the gloom. “i'll row served that day. “the tide is out, and we home. it's only eleven miles.” might hit the mud.” “nonsense!” returned the skipper, circling george got down on the bobstay, and like a hawk. “mind your eye, old man!” peered low for a sight of the tin buoy. ... “see here, bilger," bawled the doomed we heard an ominous splash. and exasperated george; “i'm not a mar- “i'm afraid george has fallen overboard," ried man, but i have an aged mother de- said mrs. bilger. pendent on me for support. i tell you, i “how unfortunate!” said miss wilkins. don't want to be rescued. keep off, or i'll it was inevitable. i understood that per- sue you for damages.” fectly; so did george. i leaned over the side the cauliflower hit the dingey a glancing and caught his upflung hand. he still had the blow, and we had a glimpse of george cling- boat-hook, hooked in the ring of the mooring. ing to the upturned gunwale. nothing of consequence was said. words “now you have done it!” he yelled after are symbols of ideas, but their emotional con- us witheringly. “the oars are gone." tent is limited. music would have better “keep cool, old man!” rejoined bilger. served, but there was no pianola aboard the he drew another bead on the dingey. “sweet cauliflower. heart, take the wheel.” we bundled silently into the dingev. hap- “yes, lovest,” said mrs. bilger tremu pily one oar remained, caught under a thwart; lously, and the skipper went forward. and george, to keep warm, paddled us up he got george this time with a boat-hook. the river. if you have ever navigated a then the inevitable happened: the engine, dingey containing five persons, you can guess that had been working like a demon, sud- within an hour or so, how long it takes to do denly quit. a mile with one oar, counting zigzags. the oh, no; not a bit of fiction inserted for dra- clock in the steeple struck two when we made matic effect; not at all. if you believe, as i the landing. do, that a malign spirit inhabits the shells of “thank you for a very interesting day," inanimate objects, you will understand that said miss wilkins to the bilgers. i added nothing could be more natural than that the my conventional appreciation, engine should stop at that precise moment. “i wish,” said the amateur skipper ear- i pass over the next few hours. the plot nestly, “that you could get away for a cruise petered out, the action dwindled to an irre- of four or five days. george and i have a ducible minimum, and as my sentiments for trip all planned.” miss wilkins never could be more than those george and i walked homeward together. of a friend, there was a total lack of heart- “where are you and bilger going?” i in- interest. quired. george, disgruntled, sat on the heel of the “i don't know where bilger is going," re- bowsprit and smoked pipe after pipe. mrs. plied george slowly, “and i don't know as bilger, miss wilkins, and i gathered in the i care a damn. but i'm going up in the cabin, where not a soul would care to sleep, berkshires for the rest of the summer.” a refuge in the bronx by walter prichard eaton illustrations by j. a. williams centle reader east side of manhattan, j -may i address you it was the poorer classes as gentle reader, inviting that began to fill it up; you by the old-fashioned rank on close rank, their term to the contemplation squalid tenements ad- of an old-fashioned spot vanced with each year and the perusal of an old- farther into the peaceful fashioned tale? thank estates of the old aristoc- you!-gentle reader, racy. the aristocracy fled, have you any notion of what or where the leaving the weeds to grow in their splendid bronx may be? if you are a new yorker, of drives, the sunday rabble to roam over their course you know. but if you have the good acres of lawn and orchard. one by one fortune not to be a new yorker, how shall the georgian mansions fell to make way i explain to you? if you are from boston, for streets of tenements. but a few lone i can make it almost clear: the bronx is our champions stood out, proud as custer 'mid charlestown. but if you are from chicago the circling sioux; and one of them, farther or denver, where i have never been, or from east than the rest across the muddy bronx some comfortable little city or town that creek, became a golf club house, the links doesn't even have suburbs, i don't know what skirting the marshes which at that point make to do. think of the section or suburb of your up from the sound. a curving driveway led city where you'd least like to live; multiply up to the mansion, between old cedars and its objectionable traits by twenty-five and maples and lindens, and from the broad divide the attractions by an equal number, veranda the eye swept out across the course, and mayhap you'll come somewhere near an dotted on a summer day with players and understanding of the bronx. but even so, caddies, to the sparkling surface of the sound. you will not have allowed for the dust and the and as long as the house stood and the course squalid uniformity of the flat-houses. you could be rented, the members refused to must have lived in new york city to realize desert their old club, coming out from new fully what it can do when it spawns, when it york by elevated or trolley, and later by the spills across the harlem river and becomes subway which ran close by, to finish their the bronx. matches with a scotch and soda in the great yet the bronx was not always so. long oak-paneled dining-room that still breathed ago, before ever it became annexed to man- the perfume of a vanished aristocracy. hattan, it was a vast, rolling, wooded garden, and i was one of those members. dominated by great stone mansions in the but i will not linger over the memories of georgian style or the tudor, which crowned that club, which was famous in its day and the knolls and looked from their long, slim boasted the finest turf in the metropolitan windows out across the blue sound to long district. it is no more. if you should seek island. there were pretty villages with to find it now, you would discover only pretty names—westchester village, van nest, tenements on the tees. i wonder if our west farms, casanova-odd name for a re- champion's ghost does not wander over the spectable abiding place. but the city grew old course by night, and startle some italian and needed room, so the trolleys and the baby's slumbers with his unearthly cry of elevated road crossed the river into the “fore!" which even in the flesh was sufficient- aristocratic country, and as it lay north of the ly terrifying. no, my story is not of golf, but a refuge in the bronx ! that all the life one were being filled up, lives is so different and when she spoke from this yielding to again there was an the primitive sensa- intimacy in her tone. tions. one is always but her words were under some sort of re- commonplace enough. straint in church and “do you see those in society and at home. poplars in a row be- nobody ever does hind the club house? yield to primitive sen- what are they doing sations. now, i like” there?” -she hesitated a bit, “there's just one colored, but went on- way to find out,” said “i like to feel the hot i, helping her to her sun on the middle of feet. my back better than we followed a path anything in the world, around the servants' but somehow i feel it's wing of the mansion, wrong! i'm blushing passed to the right of while i tell you this, the stable, and came you see. you'll think upon a hedge of it silly of me, but i shrubbery in fragrant can't help it.” bloom. within this “indeed, i'll not shrubbery we could think it silly," i an- see a high board fence, swered. “anybody gray and green with who is sensitive alike age, and over its top to sense impressions tavit here and there a rose and to what we might peeping or a tender call moral impressions green shoot of grape- if they weren't really vine. the poplars merely social, knows were on the other side. exactly your dilemma. we walked on till a i know it very well; i break appeared, dis- was reared in new closing a little door in england. but did it the fence. there was ever occur to you that a rusty padlock over the sense impressions the latch, but a strong came first in the his- yank pulled the staple rolling white cuffs over her pretty tory of the race, and out of the rotting wood perhaps have quite as and the gate creaked good a right to be attended to as the others? open on its rusty hinges. we stepped swiftly did it ever occur to you that we don't have through and closed the gate behind us. then to be lopsided to be good?” we stopped still in sudden amazement. “it's occurred to me, yes, but it would for we had slipped into another generation, never occur to my old-fashionedly ecclesi- another order of life, and with the closing of astical family," she answered. “i've got, i that gate we had shut out the world! we fear, their point of view in my blood.” were alone in a square enclosure, perhaps half “the man who wrote "the song of an acre in extent, which was so shut in by solomon' wasn't lopsided,” said i. "i'd fence and hedge and poplars that not a sight comfort you with apples if this tree were as it nor even, it seemed, a sound of the outer will be in the fall.” world penetrated to its utter quietness. it she looked at me slantwise, with a sudden once had been an old-fashioned garden, and self-revelation in her eyes, an instant unveiling somebody-a ghost, perhaps-still raised a that subtly said something intimate, though it few vegetables in the rich soil near the center had no words. in the silence that followed where the paths converged into a depression. it seemed as if a long gap in our acquaintance these paths now were choked with weeds elbows. everybody's magazine between the ruins of box hedges. bright across the abandoned flower beds, shadows poppies flared up carelessly here and there, that finally took on a tint of lavender, re- side by side with milkweed and wild mustard. minding us that in the world outside time did the heavy scent of syringa was on the air; not stand still. so we slipped once more, and over the surrounding fence, shedding with a farewell, lingering look, through the their perfume prodigally and half hiding the little door in the fence, drove back the staple delicate gray of the boards, roses were every with a stone, and sneaked into the club house where clambering untrained, almost as wild by a rear entrance. walking down the drive as their cousins of the country roadside. in in our street clothes, we met a group of mem- one corner stood a small abandoned green- bers coming in from the course, who inquired house. half the glass panes were broken, and where we had been all the afternoon. “in through the ragged holes grape-vines had the day before yesterday,” we answered, pushed long, leafy tendrils, that trailed over laughing, and hastened on. as we entered the roof, in some places keeping it from fall- the subway train she took one contemptuous ing in. the row of poplars just inside the sniff and groaned. “the pagan play is fence on the southern side had been long un- over,” she said. “this is reality!”. trimmed, and was shaggy with little shoots but when i left her at her door in town i like beards almost to the ground. the air said, “there will be another matinée next was so still that the faint rustle and shiver of tuesday.” their polished leaves was the only sound or she was half-way in the door before she motion, save for a single robin that hopped answered, with a backward glance, “not till across a bed of lettuce heads, pulled up a then?” worm, and flew to his nest near the fence, “make it to-morrow!” i cried-but the whence we heard the ripple of his call. door was closed. for a long moment we stood in a hush as and it was not until the next tuesday, deep as the great peace of this forgotten gentle reader, and not more frequently after garden. then slowly we turned toward each that, for she was a psychologist and knew that other, and as our eyes met her bosom drew a sensation, a mood, frequently repeated, up and her lids half closed and she expelled loses its tingle, its charm, its emotional con- her breath with a sigh that told more than tent. and she did not want to lose the words can ever do, for when we are possessed emotional effect of that forgotten garden, for by a strong emotion it is always our bodies it was to her a refuge from all the tyrannies that must speak. and at the same time she and uglinesses and the dust and noise of daily instinctively put out her hand to mine. the life. for me it was a refuge, too; but with peace, the warm, sun-drenched, sense-sub- true masculine intemperance and unrestraint duing silence that was in our hearts passed i would have sought it all the time, since it through our clasped fingers like a thrill. gave me her in her pagan mood when she words would have been a profanation. but seemed to draw closer to me in some in- from the touch of her fingers there rose in tangible way, as if with the closing of that me a stirring of personal affection-and i little door she opened a door in the bodiless would have prolonged the clasp; but she fence that every fine woman builds about her withdrew her hand gently and we rambled, personality, and her soul came forth to play. still in silence, out through the weed-choked often on the fifth tee i would pause to con- paths. template our line of poplars visible from that she gathered a poppy presently to put in point, standing tall and straight against the her hair. “am i not in a flowered gown," sky. but she would shake her head and say: she said, “with old-fashioned slippers on my “quitter, you are one down.” or, if i were feet? am i not a ghost?”. one up: “quitter, you're afraid you can't hold “you have old-fashioned slippers on your your lead.” either way, she had me. but feet,” i answered, looking at her stout, hob sometimes she would look toward the pop- nailed shoes. “but you are not a ghost," i lars, too, and say, "perhaps, after the ninth added, looking into her eyes. hole. . ..” and then she was always up she flushed a little and moved on. so we when the ninth hole was reached! loitered, speaking but seldom and then in so the summer waxed, and the staple grew hushed voices, while the robins sang and the loose in the gate-post till a touch would re- poplars whispered about us each to each and move it. the roses faded and fell, the weeds the westering sun sent lengthened shadows out grew higher and thicker, the forlorn remnants john avilliony the peace that was in our hearts passed through our clasped fingers like a thrill. everybody's magazine of box were quite -hidden. little green thing, except this forgotten garden and the bunches of grapes began to form under the ache of peace.” hothouse roof. only the tall poplars did not .. "the ache of peace!” she whispered back. change, nor the silence and the peace and the “to have beauty till it hurts! to drink sense that we had shut the world out when we moonlight and silence till one is drunk! to closed that door. one evening in town i die in such a dream!” and her fingers found her tired, hot, nervous, despondent- tightened, perhaps unconsciously, on mine. life had got in under her guard and stabbed then suddenly i lifted the little hand to deep. for the first time her spirit seemed my lips and kissed it. her eyes closed as i frail to me, all feminine, like her sweet little did so, then they opened and looked hard into body. i felt toward her a sudden surge of mine. her fingers renewed their pressure, protecting pity. there was no talk that night like a sob of joy-and my hand was empty. of art and books, no debates on the subjects but her elbow leaned hard to mine as we that lay nearest to us—for our occupations moved like warm ghosts amid the pale were along similar lines, lines that some folk poppies and milkweeds, and all the way fancy are not work at all because they are not home we were very silent, curiously like a followed at stated hours on the “working- bashful girl and boy who do not know how days” of the year! and there was no ques- to manage a conversation. tioning on my part as to her desires. i led then she went away to the seaside some- her forth peremptorily, and she came as if where and the town grew intolerably hot and she were glad to be rid of all initiative. it dirty and ugly and lonely, and i went away was stifling in the subway, but once at the too, finding what comfort i could in the fat, course a breath of air came off the sound to bright letters she wrote, though she never fan us, and under the dark trees of the drive dared be quite a pagan with a pen in her the earth seemed damp and cool. the moon- hand. i had to return some weeks before light fell full on our little door in the fence, so her, and found that the inevitable, the long- that it shone white amid the black shadows dreaded, had at last happened: our course of the hedge on either side. it was some had been sold to a “bronx improvement mysterious gateway to a dream, some portal association”-ironic name!-and on the fifth to an arabian night's adventure. we looked day of september we should play our last back at the great, silent mansion that stood sweepstake. i wrote her nothing about it, dark and grim and proud amid its trees but carried her togs home with mine that sad and lawns, like an olden castle. “or is evening when we all sat in the great oak it some gate," i whispered as we turned dining-room of the club-house mansion till a once more, “that ope'd for madeline and late hour, mournfully narrating tales of the porphyro?” past. three weeks later she returned to she drew closer to me. “and they are town, and still without telling her i took her gone; aye, ages long ago ...” she barely north by the familiar route. breathed. she suspected, of course, what was coming, i pulled the staple and we slipped through and asked question after question which i and closed the door hastily behind us as if dodged as well as i could. as a matter of against pursuit. “... these lovers fled fact, i did not myself know what changes away into their secret garden,” i finished for had been made since we had vacated the club. her, and the shade of keats forgave my mis- but we saw the first change from afar. the quotation. the garden was soaked with links still spread their green velvet along the moonlight and silent with an aching peace. marshes, but the magnificent trees that had the gaudy poppies were pale, almost color- lined the drive to the club house were down; less, and only a tiny flash of light now and then they were not only down, they were split and from a poplar leaf that shivered up against the stacked into cords! she uttered a little cry moon broke the hush of suspended life and of pain when she realized what had happened, motion. my hand sought hers and found and hastened toward the house over the chip- and held it, and the dream spell worked strewn path. sounds of pounding came out around us till presently her face looked up to to us, and even as we passed under the porte- mine with a question in the eyes, and i cochère there was a crash overhead and we answered smiling, in a whisper, “no, there knew that a chimney had fallen. the work of has been no to-day, and there will be no to demolition had begun. she uttered another morrow. it's all a myth-new york, every little moan of pain and hastened round the it was some mysterious gateway to a dream. wing. the garden was no more! the fence material power of new york. and now this was down, the hedges chopped away, the power was crushing her in her most tender feel- poplars vanished, and where the poppies and ings. no speech was possible but an oath; so the silence had been were piles of steel girders i spread out my hands in impotent silence. and brick and lumber. we fled the scene. cutting across lots to “oh, boy," she cried, “why did you let the nearest point of the course, we almost them do it! why did you let them do it!” ran over the heavy turf—that in three brief i spread out my hands impotently; it was weeks of inattention had become long and all i could do. not even in passing through hubbly, a parody of its former perfection to the cañon slit of broad street when the curb the seventh tee, which was almost a mile market was in full cry have i ever felt such away toward the sound, out of sight of the a futile atom opposing myself to the titanic house, where big ledges of rock crop up from everybody's magazine the marsh, forming perilous natural hazards. behind one of these ledges we crept, and kindled a little fire against the stone to cheer us up. there was a touch of autumn in the air. the wind soughed in the scrub oaks overhead, and the tall marsh grass that stretched out from our feet to the sound was bent eastward, as if fleeing in a host from the wave-crest of the invading town, frozen in brick and stone all along the western sky. we too turned our backs instinctively to the west, and looked into the red heart of the little blaze without speaking. our shoulders leaned together, and presently i found her hand in mine, and looking up i saw her lashes wet. “dearest,” i said, “there are other gardens somewhere in the world, and we will seek till we have found one, you and i-together.” she lifted our two hands to her eves and i felt moisture on my knuckle. then a little smile crept over her mouth. “it isn't so much the lost garden-any more," she said. “it's because i'm so glad to be back with you, mr. adam." out in the gathering twilight the shadowy host of the marsh grass was still fleeing east- ward when we spoke at last of going. she leaned hard on my arm as we loitered back over the thrice familiar course, stopping affectionately at each once execrated bunker, and even searching a few moments in the dusk for a remembered lost ball. as we crossed the first tee, the club house came into view again through the dusk. the roof had gone since early afternoon. the old house stood a desolate ruin against the cold sky. and down behind it was our garden, a pile of bricks and lumber! we stood still for a moment, looking up. “yet it hasn't been such a sad afternoon," i said almost gaily. “we had our little fire and ..." her arm tightened on mine as i broke off speaking. “it hasn't been sad at all, dear boy," she whispered. "no," i answered, “the old garden has done its work; it has given me you. that is what it was designed and planted for. may all old gardens do as much!” i felt a cheek brush against my shoulder and a final pressure on my arm. then we stepped out upon the sidewalk and moved briskly toward the train. the roads by alice corey co many, many roads lie traced d. where wanderers may strav- roads twining, weaving, interlaced, roads sorrowful and gay. running through countryside and town they climb the mountain steep, through storied realms of far renown l'nceasingly they creep. when silver moonlight floods the nights- o hark! across the sea these roads, the wanderer's delights, are calling you and me, singing their challenge sweet and clear, for wanderers to roam; but, all at once, i only hear the road that leads me home. the business side of vaudeville by hartley davis v audeville performers are a class of langtry, $ , . vesta victoria, who first v highly paid specialists. they receive came to this country for $ a week, and from one dollar to ten dollars a minute for vesta tilly, another english performer, both the time they are on the stage. command $ , . this explains why so many prominent, please bear in mind that these extrava- highly successful stars are persuaded to take gantly paid stars present but one of the eight a flier in vaudeville. we no longer gasp at or nine "turns” that make up a performance, the announcement that a famous player is to and that the lesser lights are also highly paid become a variety actor—for, after all, vaude specialists. indeed, of all people who work ville is merely a modern name for the variety for their living, vaudeville performers are the performance. best paid. of three-fourths, yes, seven- with casual unconcern a vaudeville man- eighths of the traveling theatrical com- ager will remark that he can get any star in panies, the whole salary list does not amount the theatrical firmament to do a “turn "; that to $ , a week, and yet in vaudeville that is, any one he happens to want. it is simply much is paid to one performer who gives an a question of how much he is willing to pay. eighth of the performance. it is true that a there are a few, as many as can be counted $ , -a-week performer doesn't appear often on one hand, who could not be tempted. the in any one theatre, but an act that costs vaudeville manager would remark in his airy, $ , a week has become the rule rather cheerful way that he doesn't want those than the exception in every bill, while a great when one considers the salaries that are paid, majority of the acts cost from $ to $ , this willingness of the stars isn't so remark and in the best vaudeville houses no act costs able. less than $ a week. “ chasers,” employed to if may irwin, who is about to return to drive audiences out of houses giving continu vaudeville after many years' absence, chooses ous performances, get that much. in the good to work as many weeks in the year as mr. vaudeville houses, the salary list of performers corey is supposed to work, she will receive ranges from $ , to $ , a week, and a salary more than double that of the presi- the maximum is paid more often than the dent of the steel trust. if she elects to work. minimum. occasionally the cost will run to only twenty weeks in the year, her salary will $ , a week. the standard in practically equal that of the president of the united every first-class vaudeville house in the coun- states. her salary for two weeks equals that try is $ , a week, and each manager tries paid a congressman for a whole year. in to keep as close to that as possible. it has other words, miss irwin will receive $ , been found that this will provide an attractive a week for appearing on the stage for twenty bill and yet leave a fair margin of profit. minutes twice a day. now, by way of contrast, consider that the when lillian russell appeared in vaude- prices charged in these vaudeville theatres ville, she was paid $ , a week, which is, i are just one-half, or oftener one-third, the believe, the largest salary ever given to a per- prices of admission charged in the theatres former. elsie janis got $ , , and mrs. presenting first-class attractions. in new everybody's magazine york, for instance, the highest price for or- chestra seats is one dollar, with box seats fifty cents more, and the downward range is to twenty-five cents. and this is the schedule of only a few houses. the usual rule for first-class vaudeville houses is fifty cents for the best seats, except those in boxes, which are twenty-five and fifty cents more. often the gallery seats are only ten cents, and when two performances a day are given, it is the universal custom to cut in half the higher prices for matinées. but what about the profits of the vaude- ville managers who charge these low prices and pay these high salaries? hammerstein's victoria theatre in new york made a net profit last year of $ , , and the orpheum in brooklyn, and keith's theatre in phila- delphia have made more than $ , net in a year. men who have handled the busi- ness end of vaudeville for many years soberly say that the vaudeville theatres in this coun- try made $ , , last year. that is mani- festly absurd, because there are only about houses that have a recognized standing, and they cannot average $ , in profits each year. but the total is so big that, if you are seeking explanation for the war that is now disorganizing vaudeville, you need look no farther than these profits. the men who have practical control of the theatres that play the high-priced attractions, realizing how enormous is the revenue derived from vaudeville, and how certain it is, have set about getting control of that also. naturally, those who control it at present wish to keep their profits. and each side has millions to spend in the struggle. conditions are changing so rapidly that it is useless to predict what the situation will be a week in advance. the possession of theatres appears to be the key. there is no such thing as cornering the market in per- formers; they are developing too rapidly the “amateur” nights, the cheaper vaudeville theatres—often nothing but halls or stores, the places especially popular in the west, where the admission is from five to twenty- five cents and four to six performances a day are given-are bringing forth new performers all the time. and even the best of the theatres are willing to give applicants a "try- out” in the morning, and, if the act is promis- ing, a trial at a regular performance. the foreign field is open to any manager who thinks he can guess correctly. the best acrobatic acts are not available in america, because children who are under the legal age are important factors in the turn. with a few exceptions, like chevalier, vesta tilly, and one or two others, the big english music- hall performers have not been successful in this country, the big hits having been made by importations who are considered second- and third-rate performers at home. in vaudeville, the agency where performers are booked—that is, have engagements made for them-is not nearly as powerful as in the dramatic field. formerly there were many of these agencies. now practically all the book- ing is done in two offices in new york, these being closely affiliated with western circuits that work in conjunction with them. it is a common thing to book a vaudeville act for eighty weeks—two theatrical years—and fix the exact dates. this centralized booking system has many advantages to the performer, the chief of which are the long engagements and the short railroad jumps. except on the orpheum circuit, where two weeks are lost in traveling and where transportation is paid by the management, the vaudeville perform- ers pay all their own expenses. they are thrifty folk, as a rule, and it pains them to. pay railroad fares, especially big fares. apart from the cost of the performers, the actual running expenses of a vaudeville the- atre are greater than those of the high-priced houses. the rent charge is, of course, an im- portant item. if a vaudeville manager wishes to acquire a successful combination house*— that is, one that makes money playing legiti- mate traveling attractions-he must pay a very high rent, which becomes exorbitant when the cost of repairs is added. if the vaudeville manager takes a house that is not successful and makes it highly profitable, the owner reaps an enormous advantage without effort on his part, and usually shows his ap- preciation by demanding a largely increased rental when the time comes to renew the lease. nowadays, most of the houses are owned by those operating them, because the system makes such a theatre one of the best possible investments. but whether the vaude- ville theatres are owned or leased, the rent charge must be considered. there is a wide range, from $ , or $ , to $ , * a combination house is one that plays a different company each week or twice a week. it is the general descriptive term for practically all theatres playing traveling attractions, no matter what the grade, to distinguish such theatres from those that have stock companies and those where plays have long runs. a theatre is like a hotel. li it is established thoroughly and does a big business, it can rent for more than one that is a failure. the business side of vaudeville in the smaller cities, up to $ , in new a good vaudeville house, and the salary list york. is between $ , and $ , a week. in the repair bill is enormous, and the lessee keith's theatre in boston the house staff has to pay it. it is good business to keep the numbers persons. in the majestic in theatres in the best possible condition, and chicago there are upward of a hundred, ten the wear and tear resulting from two per- of whom are maids for the care of women formances a day necessitate constant re- patrons. vaudeville managers never at- newals everywhere. frequently the cost of tempt to economize on the comfort of wom- repairs exceeds the rent. in the larger cities, en and children who come to the theatre. the average is not far from $ , a year. in the new york theatres the “house next to the salaries of performers, the lar- charges," as they are called, are usually esti- gest expense of a vaudeville theatre is the paymated at $ , a week; this is supposed to of employees, which also amounts to more than cover everything except the repairs and the in the high-priced houses. the number em- salaries paid to performers. as a matter of the spirit of music photograph by white, new york. jesse l. lasky's "pianophiends."-an expensively dressed act. ployed is astonishing, and includes resident fact, in the best of the theatres these charges manager, press-agent, two treasurers, door- probably exceed that estimate. keepers, ushers, carriage-man, coat-room with the prices of acts ranging from $ attendants, maids, water-boys, orchestra, to $ , a week and with something like stage-manager, electricians, property-men, , performers to choose from, there is scene-shifters, clearers—the union rule will naturally wide latitude in the making up of not permit a scene-shifter to touch anything a "bill," as the selection of acts for a particu- but scenery, and the clearers may handle only lar week is called. the pumber of “turns” properties—the engineering staff, and clean- or acts is always eight or nine, exclusive of ers. about sixty is the minimum number in the moving pictures, and the average act ne everybody's magazine lasts twenty minutes. new york, and by far occasionally an excep- the larger number of tionally clever playlet attractions are well may run forty minutes. content to make from the figures $ , a week on the here presented it is road. this usually plain that from $ ,- means a comfortable ooo to $ , a year profit for the theatre is required to run a and the company. but high - class vaudeville vaudeville houses, theatre in the larger charging far lower cities, exclusive of new prices, have to take in york, and $ , a that much money to year in the metropolis. pay expenses. the difference is chief- granted that the ly in the rent and ad- vaudeville managers vertising rates, al- are at a disadvantage though the higher in the matter of high wages paid the house expenses and low prices staff also count. in of admission, there are new york, then, a many compensations, vaudeville theatre must chief of which is the take in $ , , and, comparative absence of outside of new york, risk. of all branches an average of $ , a of amusements, an es- week before there are tablished vaudeville any profits. theatre is the most those who come in stable. it is more of contact with the the- a business and less of a atrical game hear gamble than any other much about the enor- kind of show, except mous receipts of differ- certain stock com- ent attractions. it is houdini, the "handcuff king." panies in brooklyn, true that “the lion where enough seats to and the mouse" averaged $ , a week for' insure a profit for a whole season are sub- a straight year at the lyceum in new york; scribed in advance. that david warfield played to something like vaudeville makes a wider appeal than any $ , a week at the spacious academy of other form of stage entertainment, and this music, which was built for grand opera; but is the fundamental reason for its success. yet these are the rare exceptions. an average the fact was not recognized until within a business of $ , a week is very good in dozen years or so. formerly, variety theatres photography hall, aci bork. c. b. barnold's dog and monkey pantomime. photograph by the matzene studio, chicago. papinta, mirror dancer. photograph by kiyiwaru straio, st. louis. toby clal'de. gave performances that were supposed to be ness of the performance rather than because for men, and with a few exceptions, like of it. he set about proving this, and so tony pastor's in new york, the howard revolutionized the whole business. vaude- athenæum in boston, and the olympic in ville is now dependent upon women and chicago, which were respectable, they were children, and the managers think more about mostly disreputable resorts, especially in the pleasing them than the men. smaller towns. the fact that the few really good variety houses did an enormous busi the only systematic censorship of stage ness had no significance for other managers, performances in this country is in the vaude- who slavishly followed the custom of per- ville houses. whereas managers of companies mitting vulgarity and indecency to dominate playing in first-class houses frequently depend their stages. at length b. f. keith, a new upon indecency to attract audiences, vaude- englander who had worked with a circus ville managers have made it impossible on for years and had begun with a small "hall their stages. the latter have established stand- show” in boston, made the discovery that ards that the performers have accepted and variety theatres prospered despite the coarse- that they are as keen to maintain as the man- the business side of l'audeville agers themselves. there may be a question sizes. and by the way, these shows are now as to taste; indeed, refined souls are often being opened in towns of , to , painfully shocked at vaudeville performances, people, whereas formerly it was supposed but the shows are always clean, according that no city of less than , population to the standards of the vaudeville manager. could support a good vaudeville theatre. they may not be your standards nor mine, even in new york, it was four years before but evidently they are accepted by the mil- the victoria theatre, transformed by oscar lions that support this form of show. hammerstein into a vaudeville house, really when i said that vaudeville makes a very paid. but now the returns yield a profit of a wide appeal, i did not mean that everywhere quarter of a million a year, which enables the people are eager and anxious to go to per- versatile manager to face a loss in his in- formances of this kind. time and time dividual grand-opera venture with equa- again it has been proved that communities nimity. . unfamiliar with the modern variety show nothing more clearly illustrates the differ- evince small interest in it. for one thing, ence between the old-time manager and his there has been the prejudice that is the logical successor than this ability and willingness to result of the days when the name variety show make a large investment and face a loss for was a synonym for disrepute. and this has four years. there is a familiar story that been difficult to overcome. people didn't illustrates the spirit of the older days. an know that they want- actor approached his ed vaudeville; the manager with a re- taste for it was dor- quest for a loan of mant, not active. the twenty-five dollars. managers found that, “twenty-five!” in nearly every in- repeated the man- stance, a systematic ager. “twenty-five campaign of educa- dollars?" tion was necessary. “yes," said the it takes about four actor, “i want you to years to make a new lend me twenty-five vaudeville theatre dollars. youcan take pay. now and then it out of my salary.” there is an exception, “twenty-five dol- like minneapolis, lars,” reiterated the where the new or- manager. “say, pheum, costing don't you know that $ , , paid from if i had twenty-five the very start. but dollars i'd put out a the immediate suc- no. company?" cess of the minne- perhaps the or- apolis theatre is ex- pheum circuit, which plained by the fact owns ten theatres that a large part of west and south of the city's population chicago and is close- was continually visit- ly affiliated with ing chicago, where a twenty-five more, of- taste for the varied ers the best example form of entertain- of the modern busi- ment had already ness organization of been developed. vaudeville. the or- these sophisticated pheum company is ones then acted as so a close corporation, many press-agents. with a capital stock such exceptions, of $ , and some- however, are very thing like $ , , few, and the rule ap photograph by hall's studio, notu york. of assets. it has built plies to cities of all nat m wills. nearly all its theatres, dont give a whoop fanybody tment roof | the wyoming whoop puator, dutca the wyoming is the champion of the people at the eo torino check: unless you ushed otoons s home without news paper tair sti re cressy and dayne in “the wyoming whoop," a successful one-act playlet. which cost from $ , to $ , each. last, and it is a part of that business to have its prices range from seventy-five cents for a thorough knowledge of the show game. box seats to ten cents in the gallery. the his eyes are cast far ahead. he doesn't orchestra seats sell for fifty cents at night and think about what the business will be next twenty-five cents for the mati- week or next month, but what née. the ten cents admis- it will be two years from now. sion to the gallery is designed he knows that his theatres chiefly to attract children, be- cannot succeed unless they cause it has been found that play to full houses, because they go home and tell their of the small price of admis- parents about the excellent sion. therefore he must show, thereby increasing the make the theatres themselves attendance at subsequent per- as attractive as possible, pro- formances. the booking is viding generously for the done from the chicago office, women and children, and also and the closest tab is kept must give them the best show on all the acts, so that it is he can arrange. known exactly which ones when a manager books an please most. contracts for act that costs $ , or more scenery, decoration, carpets, a week, he generally expects all the supplies, and the re- to lose money on that par- pairs, are made in the chicago ticular week, though in this office for the ten theatres, and new york may prove an ex- the cost is thus much reduced. ception, on account of the the orpheum circuit pays higher prices of admission. the railroad fares of perform- these expensive acts, by ers and it has a high-priced “two - dollar stars," as the railroad expert to look after vaudeville manager calls those the transportation. who have headed companies “i am a business man, and that have always played in my business is to amuse peo- the high-priced houses, are ple," explained martin beck, put on chiefly for advertising the general manager of the purposes. now, one might orpheum company, and that suppose that with one act get- photograph by l'hite, nece l'ork. ting perhaps $ , a week, him it is business first and mary ann brown. the manager would cut down the business side of vaudeville the cost of the other acts to the smallest possible sum, and depend upon the people attracted by the big star to make a profit on the week. but, on the contrary, when one prone to look down upon a variety perform- ance. they are lured in by the chance of seeing a star at a cost of fifty cents instead of two dollars. once there, they are surprised photograph by il'hite, new york. meredith meredro, of "the stunning grenadiers." of these extravagantly expensive acts heads a bill, the astute manager is extraordinarily careful to engage the best performers he can secure to round out the bill, regardless of cost. for the star is pretty certain to draw a large number of people who have never before been in the vaudeville theatre and who are to find that the other acts are as entertaining, as interesting as the star's; indeed, it is the exception rather than the rule for a two- dollar star to “make good” unless he has had a vaudeville training. but the failure of a big star with a great reputation in an at- tempt at vaudeville helps rather than hurts everybody's magazine the house, for those hazard, made their first whom he has drawn success in vaudeville, generally leave the the- and these are but a few atre with vastly in- of a long roll. creased respect for the rapidity with straight vaudeville. which salaries jump af- one of the few ex- ter a success is scored ceptions to the rule is remarkable. when that two - dollar stars sam bernard was a fail, is may irwin. monologist, better her first big hit was known on the bowery made in vaudeville be- than on broadway, he fore she went into musi- received about $ . cal comedy. she knows his success with weber the game. she has an & fields trebled this enormous following salary. then he went that will flock to the into musical comedy as theatre to see her in a star for a salary of vaudeville; she can de- $ , a week. now light audiences to their he is willing to return capacity for enjoyment. to vaudeville for $ , the most popular a week. he can get acts are those that $ , . make people laugh, within the last dozen whether they be mono- years or so, houdini, logues, sketches, or bur- ihe “handcuff king,” lesque acrobatic stunts, was appearing in a and to make vaudeville dime museum in new audiences roar, it is nec- york and was glad to essary to make a very get $ or $ a week. simple, very direct ap- the good vaudeville peal. effects must be houses would not give secured quickly and him a chance, despite must follow each other the fact that he pre- in rapid succession. sented one of the most there are standard remarkable acts on the teams like mr. and stage. houdini went mrs. “jimmy” barry, abroad and made his will cressy and name known the world photograph by il'ilson's studio, pueblo, col. blanche dayne, and a arnoldo, the animal trainer. over. now he gets score of others that are $ , a week, and his absolutely fixed in the affections of vaude- engagements are made two years ahead. ville audiences because they can make fun. vesta victoria, who occupied about a third- mcintyre and heath did “the georgia min- rate position in the london music halls, came strels” in variety and vaudeville for thirty to new york two seasons ago at a salary of years and they are now doing the same act $ a week, which she thought enormous. with a few others in musical comedy. her skill in singing one song, “waiting at the it is rather curious that the stars who were church,” gave her a tremendous vogue, and graduated from the variety theatres years her salary jumped to $ , a week. alice ago have been more successful than the lloyd, a dainty little english girl, was glad later ones who have tried to break into to come to new york for $ . she made a the legitimate from vaudeville. tony pastor very great success and now her american has a list of some forty famous people, like salary is $ , a week. she was content n. c. goodwin, lillian russell, and may with about $ a week in london. irwin, who practically started in his theatre. henry lee, for years recognized as a par- weber & fields, the rogers brothers, sam ticularly fine actor in legitimate rôles, entered bernard, elsie janis, to give names at hap vaudeville with a specialty that he called the business side of vaudeville “great men past and present.” his skill in these imitations made him one of the most popular "head-liners," as the aristocrats of vaudeville are called, and now he gets $ a week. nat wills, who presents a tramp specialty that is howlingly funny and who is classed as a monologist, gets $ a week for making people laugh, and the fact that he made an unsuccessful attempt to star in musical comedy hurt him not at all. early in the summer a young girl who had been in the chorus of musical shows for a couple of years without attracting any atten- tion, decided that she could give imitations of the kind that made cissie loftus and elsie janis famous. for weeks she besieged managers for a chance, at any salary at all. finally, william hammerstein, being short an act for a sunday afternoon concert, gave her an opportunity. within a week belle blanch as she calls herself, was booked for a whole year at $ a week. clara wieland, a serpentine dancer, was widely known in vaudeville a dozen years ago. the serpentine dance ceased to be a novelty, and managers refused to book it. miss wie- land was clever. she saw that imitations were exceedingly popular, so she practised them, and when she thought she was pro- ficient she changed her name to mary ann brown. the name caught the fancy of the managers as much as the act, and now mary ann brown is a “head-liner" with all the engagements she cares to fill. an animal performance always pleases; and occasionally one like barnold's dog and monkey pantomime scores a big hit. in this act not a human being appears on the stage. dogs and monkeys only are seen; and a yellow “mutt” that plays a drunken man is a real actor. this act was engaged for the victoria roof garden in new york at $ a week. it made such a success that it was booked for two years at $ , a week. the newest development in vaudeville is the presentation of eiaborate ensemble acts with fine scenery and costumes. these have been so successful that there are regular pro- ducers of them, like ned wayburn, george homans, and lasky, rolfe & company. for “the stunning grenadiers," lasky, rolfe & company imported a bevy of strap- ping english girls, provided them with three changes of costume and three sets of scenery, as well as lighting effects. at least $ , was invested in this single act, which runs the usual twenty minutes. “the pianophiends” cost nearly as much, for the young men and women who play six pianos in concert wear fashionable and expensive clothes and the scenery is as fine as can be painted. george homans imported italian opera singers for his zingari troupe, and the stage setting, with its elaborate lighting effects, is as artistic as that seen in high-priced regular theatres. it takes twelve people to present “a night with the poets,” including a male quartet that wears evening clothes costing $ for each member, people who pose as living pictures, and an actor who can read poetry. ned wayburn, an old minstrel man, has put on a great number of successful acts in which he employs at least a dozen people and three changes of costume, and three sets of scenery. sometimes he has twenty people, and the principal performer receives $ a week. “the minstrel misses,” “the rain dears,” and “the fu- turity winner" have become widely familiar in vaudeville theatres. these big acts usually receive from $ to $ , a week. the producer, who is also the manager, must pay the original cost, the salaries of the people he employs, and the transportation of the people and the scenery. his net profit on each act when it is playing averages about $ a week. it is easier to book one of these big ensemble acts that costs a great deal than to book a cheaper one, because the vaudeville managers have found that audiences have been educated up to demanding the best that can be given them, and when people are pleased it means full houses. the managers make the audiences feel that they are receiving about double their money's worth. it's all business. the adventurer by lloyd osbourne joint author with robert louis stevenson of “the wrecker" and “the ebb-tide"; author of " motormaniacs," “ baby bullet,” etc. (conclusion] chapter xxv (continued) can of kerosene, some broken packages of dynamite, sulphur matches, an old overcoat, (tera and kirk had talked of "seeing” a tin basin, towel, and cake of soap, a smeary v cassiquiare. see it, indeed! why, to drum of cylinder oil stoppered with a small do that one would need an army of laborers, funnel, dirty gunny-sacks, a bucket of water. machetes, dynamite, ladders, a permanent crawshaw and henderson jumped down, and camp, and months of time. in no more as though following an invariable routine, than a few hours, what could one do except each began to light a lantern, shaking them gape at several of the façades, peer into to see if they were full. some cavernous interiors, trail through the “of course you will want to come down dense undergrowth on a search for fresh with me, captain,” said crawshaw, picking wonders, with the possibility of getting lost up a sack, and eying vera doubtfully. "but beyond all finding? if it is too much for miss westbrook to at- as the automobile impudently broke the tempt, we'll leave henderson with her.” quiet, its exhaust echoing with startling dis- “mayn't i have a sack?” inquired kirk. tinctness, and shivering the air with an in- “no reason why i shouldn't bear a hand, congruous modernity, kirk perceived that too, is there?" he had come on an impossible errand. he “all right; take that one, captain.” would carry away with him no more than a “let me have one too!” cried vera, her blurred memory of gloom, grandeur, and eyes dancing with pleasure. "sacks of decay; a haunting recollection of cliff-like treasure-just think of it! crammed full of façades, mossy, bulging, grotesquely carved, bars of gold-it's like a melodrama! oh, staring down at him over intervening jungle; kirk, isn't it wonderful?” and an undying regret to have to content “banks will seem tame after this,” he himself with so little. replied gaily. “you don't have to be identi- guiding the car with a sure, deft hand, fied here, and you draw what you can carry!” crawshaw drove it forward with the noncha. he seized the lantern crawshaw had given lant air of one who knew every inch of the him, threw the sack over one shoulder, and road. adroitly picking his way round mounds impatiently demanded to be led on. of tumbled masonry, dipping into gullies, and they proceeded in single file, crawshaw opening the throttle on the rise, shaving with leading, henderson and kirk in the center, a fine eye trees and stumps and rocks, he at vera last, entering a dim corridor whose length reached the entrance of the building, twilight gradually turned to darkness as they rumbled through its damp and tunnel-like advanced. behind them, through the jagged interior, and with much winding and turning, aperture that von zedtwitz had made so picked a diagonal path across the courtyard many years before, the streaming sunlight beyond, to the arches of a gray and devastated diminished to a speck of fire. the lanterns, wing. . at first so feeble, grew steadily brighter. here, as they came to a stop, were seen the pin-point of day vanished as the gallery some mean evidences of the invasion. a turned, narrowed, and sank deeper into the twentieth-century litter lay scattered on a rocky depths. the footfalls of the little stone floor whose slabs had been hewn and party reverberated with a hollow, mourn- set, as like as not, some centuries before our ful sound, giving the sense of hundreds softly saviour's birth: picks and axes, an array of marching before and after them in an un- smoky lanterns, coils of line and rope, a ending tramp. the adventurer the air was peculiarly lifeless, as though scant of oxygen and contaminated with poisonous exhalations. it was hard to resist the conviction that the vaulted roof might at any moment give way-either to crush them beneath untold tons of rock, or, falling behind them, to block their exit forever. that this dread was not altogether chimerical was proved by several places where they had to crawl on their hands and knees over masses of fallen rubble; or squeeze past dislodged boulders-leaving between them and their retreat obstacles that in retrospect grew increasingly formidable and terrifying, as though door after door had closed behind them, and the bolts had been drawn on a living tomb. the gallery ended in a lofty chamber of vague and unknown extent. the upraised hand touched nothing, and the voice re- echoed with richer vibrations. crawshaw warned them to walk carefully, and led them to a sort of square well in the center. here some steps descended into a void of impene- trable blackness—narrow, slimy stone steps, not two feet across, on one side hugging the wall, on the other unprotected by rope or railing. kirk peered into the gloom over crawshaw's shoulder. the little engineer started briskly to descend, but was suddenly arrested by an iron grip on his arm. "for heaven's sake, hold on a minute!” cried kirk. “i want to know where this thing stops.” “at the bottom," returned crawshaw, grinning at his own repartee, and enjoying the captain's undisguised alarm. “great scott, and where's that?” "stay here, and i'll show you,” he said. “it reaches what we call the main level about forty feet below. i'll light you from down there, and henderson from the top, and then you can see your way without trouble.” man and lantern descended into the abyss. at the foot there was a wild flurry of bats, and a vision of flapping black wings, ribbed and skinny, flung hither and thither by the swirl of the engineer's lantern. its light danced over the cavernous entrances of more underground passages, and was reflected in pools of water that partly concealed the floor. the thought of following cost kirk a shudder, and vera was clinging to him as though she had reached the limits of her courage. it was henderson, more than kirk, who rescued her from a shameful panic. “don't tak’ on, young leddy,” he said with kindly concern. “it's always the way with those new to it to balk here, and wish to gie back as fast as may be. it's but a passing qualm, and ye ought to know we've all felt it, even them that's now so bold and venturesome.” his voice itself was as reassuring as the words he uttered. there was not a shade of nervousness in that broad drawl; merely a sympathetic matter-of-factness that was in- finitely encouraging. “aren't you coming?” cried crawshaw from the depths. “do you dare?” whispered kirk. vera assented tremblingly. “if you like, we'll- “no, no, kirk; only hold my hand tight, won't you?" he went in front of her and cautiously guided her down the treacherous steps. henderson, hanging over the edge above, slowly swung his lantern to and fro. at the foot was crawshaw holding up his. the descent was safely made, and they found themselves in an atmosphere of penetrating cold and damp. an unwholesome moisture bedewed the walls, and oozing from a myriad pores, trickled to the floor, where it gathered in dismal pools. the blackness seemed to grow more profound, more intense, and the glimmering lanterns were shrouded in an inky pall that closed on them like something tangible. as crawshaw led on, their feet splashed in unseen water, and stumbled over obstructions that disconcerting'y blocked their way. it was a nightmare of slime and wet and darkness; of groping and falling; of sudden starts and terrors. all sense of direction was lost. they mounted. they descended. it was a labyrinth, without end or beginning. at times the rocky ceiling almost touched their heads; at others their outstretched hands closed on air, and it was as though they were passing through the vast aisles of a subterranean cathedral. craw- shaw would have stopped to elucidate these mysteries, and perkily show them some of the hidden wonders—but they urged him on with a vehemence that sprang from despera- tion. his willingness to strike aside, to abandon what was apparently the main thor- oughfare, for radiating catacombs, to lose them still farther in the horrible maze, froze their blood. the little man was proud of his knowledge, and insistent on putting it at their disposal. he stepped out as surely as though the sun were shining overhead, and everybody's magazine his eyes actually saw the things he described. view. the first feeling of astonishment gave but kirk and vera could not be tempted. way to unspeakable relief. the long-drawn they never put fout in the famous arsenal, tension snapped. they could hardly take in where in serried thousands the primitive arms what crawshaw was saying. he wished to were said to be ranged. they turned deaf have his improvised generator admired, his ears to his wish to stop in the store chambers ingenuity applauded; they could see for them- and explore their musty recesses. they re- selves that the generator consisted of nothing fused to shiver, with the pressure of a finger, more than an old meat-can, with a seepage those chests that fell to dust at the merest of water through a core of unglazed earthen- touch. ware. kirk was on fire to finish the whole ad- but there were more exciting things to venture. he bitterly took himself to task exclaim over. on one side, methodically for .ever having led his sweetheart into it. stacked against the wall, was an array of dark, he was oppressed by the darkness, the cho- moldy, familiar-looking bars, built up in a king air, the hideous possibilities of disaster. crisscross fashion sixteen inches or so above his heart beat quickly, and his brain was in the floor. the inroads already made upon a whirl of apprehension. what would hap- the treasure were apparent from the moss and pen if the oil gave out? if crawshaw were to discoloration that rose, not unlike a sort of lose his way, and suddenly confess with hor- wainscoting, to a much greater height, clearly ror that he knew not how to extricate them? defining a recent line of demarcation. but what if they were left, without light or food enough still remained, a fraction though it or water, to face a lingering and dreadful was of the original hoard, to constitute death in those underground caverns? he a fortune running into the hundreds of tried to put these thoughts from him, to af- thousands. fect the tourist-like interest that crawshaw kirk and vera, in fascinated silence, gazed seemed to demand—but it was in vain. he at the ingots that had lain thus lost and for- could do neither. his one consuming desire gotten for incalculable years. to touch them was for the free air of heaven. was as though to bridge the chasm of centuries at length they stopped. and close hands with the phantoms of the “here we are,” cried the engineer, raising past. even in that far-off time, gold had his lantern to look at his watch. “how long been the symbol of all that was precious and do you suppose it has taken us, captain?” desirable. ease could be purchased with it kirk hazarded an hour. vera, on being —pretty women, luxury, power, palaces, and pressed, faintly guessed a half hour more. slaves. the fortunate were esteemed those crawshaw burst out laughing. who could find it, who could take it, who “seventeen minutes," he said. could keep it. the ages had rolled over this kirk, incredulous, confirmed the extraor- vanished people, and the mocking emblem dinary fact with his own timepiece. for which they had struggled, schemed, and “it's an illusion,” went on crawshaw. fought, alone survived them. at what a cost “it's hard to account for. you are closer of human misery it had doubtless been within the mark than most of them. i've gathered together! what countless backs, known them to say three hours." . : bleeding under the lash, had won it of mother snapping his watch shut, and bidding them earth! what wars, what crimes, what tor- remain where they were, he took a dozen tures had not the amassing of it involved! steps from them; and bending down, was gold! the immemorial incentive, the imme- seen to fumble with a small apparatus on a morial curse of all human activity-where wooden box. then he struck a match, and can you find the least piece of it that is not held it to what was apparently an acetylene splashed with blood! gas-burner. there was a tiny flicker, a crawshaw and henderson loaded their sound of escaping air, and two dancing specks bags. kirk, in a sort of maze, followed their of flame swelled into one, and suddenly rose example. it all made for him an inefface- in a little fan. the effect was dazzling in able picture—the sunken chamber; the ingots; the extreme to eyes grown accustomed to the white, intent faces; vera's slender figure, obscurity. they found themselves standing so incongruous and beautiful against the dark in a high and brilliantly illuminated cham- stone; the blinding fan of flame fed from a ber, some thirty feet square and a dozen high, tin can that still bore a chicago label. with every nook and cranny of it bared to crawshaw extinguished the gas, and as he the adventurer did so, the scene vanished forever. the dull "it's thunder,” persisted the engineer, gleam of the lanterns hardly more than suf- petulant with misgiving. ficed to light their feet, and they were again en- “hardly likely on a day like this,” said gulfed in an all-pervading night. in single file, henderson. “why, there wasn't a cloud in the men bending under their sacks, they began the sky.” to retrace their way, and follow out the tor- “well, it has to be thunder, for there's tuous passages through which they had come. nothing else it can be,” exclaimed crawshaw it was as eerie a progress as the one before, sharply. as ghostly and full of tremors. the rock “i am not so sure," put in kirk. “i'm seemed to crush them in as though with an not sure at all that it is thunder.” intolerable weight. they were entombed; then raising his lantern, he looked the the coffin-lid was descending; they were others squarely in the face. suffocating in a horrible, clammy darkness. “crawshaw,” he cried, “those are the such at least, as nearly as they can be put machine guns of the fortuna.” into words, were their sensations, which no amount of will-power could altogether dispel. the best that resolution could do was to chapter xxvi keep them at bay, and coerce the shrinking flesh with appeals to reason, to sanity. for a moment they were too stunned to courage returned only as they mounted the move. then flinging down their sacks, they side of the well, and found themselves on the began to run, urging one another to a frantic upper level. instantly their hearts lightened; haste. the reverberation of their feet on the air grew less oppressive; the rays of their the stony floor drowned all other sound. lanterns seemed to penetrate a greater dis- the consuming thought was to reach the tance and bathe the party in an increased open air, and verify kirk's terrible surmise. effulgence. it became possible for the first if it were the guns, it meant that the ship time to talk and laugh with unconcern, to was beset and fighting for her life. it throw aside all apprehensions, to regard the meant that their own retreat was cut off. whole adventure as already finished. at sight of the opening, they redoubled indeed it almost was. a few minutes more, their pace. the twilight made their lanterns and they might expect to see the crack of sun- no longer necessary, and they dashed them shine at the end of the last tunnel. they aside to lie smoking where they fell. kirk redoubled their pace. it was good to think of loosened the revolver in his holster, and the daylight beyond, and of the fresh wonders warned the others to do the same. they awaiting them. crawshaw promised them a knew not what they might find outside, and stay of two hours more, and was himself to be it was well to be ready for the worst. as their guide. they were to climb to the very they darted into the open, and gathered, pant- top of the building, exploring it as they went, ing and breathless, about the car, the boom and then look down on the entire city. they of the distant guns broke with unmistakable were to- .. meaning on their ears, rolling and rerolling his eager voice was silenced by a long, low with a harsh, furious splutter that told of a rumble, so faint, so mysterious, that it was desperate battle below. impossible to determine from what direction no time was lost in taking counsel or in it came. making plans. crawshaw started up his en- the little party halted instinctively, and gine, and they were off in the twinkling of an drew closer together. eye, with a headlong rush that tossed caution "it's thunder,” said crawshaw, straining to the winds—vera beside the engineer; kirk his ears. “yes, it's thunder!” huddled on the floor at her feet, his long the rumbling died down. forty-four glistening across his knee; hender- they went on, slowly and uneasily, whisper- son standing up behind, his, tall figure sway- ing conjectures. perhaps it was a landslide. ing with every lurch of the car, his face set or could one of the galleries behind them and grim, as he stared ,unblinkingly ahead have fallen in? they shot down the track at a lightning “hush!” cried kirk suddenly. “there it pace, with a grind of brakes at the turns, and goes again.” skids that threatened to pare the tires off the the rumbling recommenced, dully and rims. crawshaw handled the car like a racer, fitfully. which meant that he took his own life in his everybody's magazine hands, and forgot that the others had any to lose. but fast as he went, the straining hearts he bore wished for faster still, and voices shouted to him madly to let her out every second was unendurable that kept them from the lookout point. they tore like a whirlwind down the last stretch, and ran out on the shoulder of the mountain as though to bound over the preci- pice beyond. the brakes, set hard, failed to bring the car to a standstill, and the metal screeched shrilly as she glided, with barely checked momentum, toward the yawning brink. had not crawshaw meshed his re- verse in the very nick of time, they would all have plunged into eternity. but they had no time to commend him, nor to shudder at the narrowness of their escape. their eyes were fixed on the fortuna far below; and her plight, now startlingly visible, engrossed their whole and undivided attention. she was bearing away under full sail, hotly pursued on either flank by black, seething masses of mounted savages. flame was spitting from her sides, and the air was rent by sharp, low detonations that rose and fell irregularly like the popping of distant fire- crackers. the wind, though steady, was far from strong. the horsemen easily kept pace with the ship, and occasionally some even outran her, and attempted to head her off as they might a wild bull. but the fortuna drove into them with resistless force, and her wheels jolted over those that failed to escape in time or were shot down from the foremast rigging as they turned to fly. at first sight, it seemed a most unequal contest, with every thing in favor of the ship. but the perti- nacity of the savages, their fanatical resolu- tion, their enormous numbers, unthinned and undismayed by that hail of death—all shook the confidence of the onlookers as to the ultimate outcome. these wolves of the llano, individually so harmless, with nothing but bows and arrows, spears, and an occasional flint-lock to op- pose smokeless powder and steel-tipped bul- lets, were in the mass a most formidable en- emy, and terrible to withstand. they were capable of beating down all resistance by sheer weight and intrepidity. as kirk gazed down at that tornado of battle, he was stag- gered to see how slight an impression, after all, the fortuna was able to make on the dark sea encompassing her. her guns mowed down wide swaths of men and horses; they fell as trimly as grass before a scythe; but the shattered ranks refilled, the scythe cut and cut apparently in vain; the swarming horde neither slackened its pursuit, nor showed, in the aggregate, the smallest lessening of num- bers. had the breeze freshened, which, alas, there was no sign of its doing, the tactics of the previous conflict might have been re- peated with terrific advantage. the ship might then have been put about, and her vast bulk been utilized to tear repeated pathways through her enemies, and grind untold num- bers beneath her wheels. but what wind there was hardly sufficed to keep her moving at more than six or seven knots an hour-a speed prohibitive of all such tactics—and thus her most powerful weapon, her mobility, was unfortunately unavailable. but more alarming than anything else was the unaccountable confusion that seemed to reign on board. the firing became fitful and unsteady. several times she yawed wildly, and narrowly escaped jibing. tiny figures could be seen slipping down the rigging, seemingly abandoning their posts in panic. the machine guns stopped altogether, though a persistent rifle-fire could be plainly heard, and with it a faint, muffled sound of undis- tinguishable import. could it be cheering? but the wake showed no signs of increased slaughter. on the contrary, the dribble of bodies nearly ceased, and the melancholy ribbon of them, stretching far across the plain, began to widen with great gaps-ominous portent of the ship's ebbing resistance. suddenly she wore ship, and the maneuver opened her broadside to view. then was learned the reason for her apparent abandon- ment of the fight. her forecastle was black with men, and a hand-to-hand battle was taking place on her forward deck. the savages had gained a foothold on her bow, and were obstinately holding their own, while their numbers were constantly reenforced from below. figures could be seen struggling frantically to clamber aboard; occasionally one would fall back into the boiling, swirl- ing mass from which he had arisen. axes sparkled in the sun; rifles cracked; pistols rained incessant bullets. but the savages seemed not to give an inch. the battle, like some wild sea squall, drove steadily to leeward. the fortuna dwindled in the immeasurable expanse. the reverberations lessened; her decks grew in- distinct; the galloping savages shrank to a mere stain on the red-brown earth. the the adventurer wan issue was lost on the dark rim of the horizon, kirk, ignoring his surly manner. “we're all above which nothing showed but the upper in the same box, aren't we? there's no use spars, and the lofty kits still full of wind. giving up before we have to. keep your thus she melted into the uttermost haze, a brains for a better purpose.” feather against the sky-line, a speck, the henderson laughed mirthlessly. he was mystery of her fate still unknown as she a tall, spare, reddish creature of a harsh passed from sight, perhaps forever. geniality, who was ordinarily rated one of in the intensity of his preoccupation, kirk their best and stanchest men, always cool, had completely forgotten himself and the always resourceful, always the first to volun- others with him. he awoke from a sort of teer for anything disagreeable or dangerous. dream, and, trembling in every limb, drew to have him falter now was to kirk like a his hand across a forehead wet with sweat. blow in the back. his heart grew heavier for a moment he was absolutely unmanned. than ever as he accompanied him back to vera had sunk to the ground beside him, and vera and crawshaw. together they made her shoulders shook with an occasional sob- a forlorn little group about the car. bing breath that quavered like a child's. “now, see here, everybody," began kirk. crawshaw was seated on the step of the “i want you all to listen to me, and listen automobile, staring into vacancy with a look hard. we can't go back to cassiquiare- of unspeakable despair. henderson lay on that's plain. no food, no hope, no anything. the track, his face hidden by his arm as though we certainly can't stay here, waiting like for him the world had ended, and he realized ninnies for angels to descend and help us. the hopelessness of any further effort. effort well, what's left? why, to take the gamble kirk put his arm about vera and drew her —to chance the savages, and chance picking up. he pressed her close to him with a tragic up the ship.” pity. he kissed her as he might on the edge “they've got her by this time,” said of the grave, with the tenderness and poign- henderson. ancy of an eternal farewell. his warm lips “how do you know that?”. seemed to break the spell that benumbed her. “it's a thousand to one, anyhow." she clung to him, clasping her hands about “then you don't know. how can you his neck and giving way to uncontrollable possibly know? the last we saw of her she emotion. his cheeks were wet with her was still under control. there was still a tears; her slender, girlish body nestled against white man at that wheel, henderson. how him, solaced by the sense of his strength and long could she have laid a course if our fel- courage and resolution-and, as is the way of lows had been bested? not a minute, by woman-calling them all into being by her george! the masts would have been out of very faith in their existence. her before you could say jack robinson.” soothed and comforted, she gradually “and what when the wind falls at sun- recovered some degree of composure; and down?” though still deadly pale, and at times quiver- “she may have fought herself clear by that ing with violent tremors, she managed, with time.” the help of kirk's supporting arm, to totter “or not.” over to crawshaw, and take a seat beside him “yes or not. that's one of the chances on the long step. the little engineer made we have to take. we have to go on the sup- no movement, not even turning his head. position that she has pulled through. admit "what's to be done?” asked kirk, break- that she has, for argument—isn't it our policy ing the intolerable silence. to reach her?” “i don't know," returned crawshaw in a “but we may never pick her up at all,” listless tone. “we're done for, i suppose. said the engineer, putting in a word for the we'll never get out of this.” first time. “we've no compass, no means of kirk next tried henderson. he roused letting them know our predicament, no cer- him from his stupor of dejection, and forced tainty of even following her in the right him to get up. direction. what's to prevent our getting “don't lie there like a log,” he cried. “if stuck out there in the middle of nowhere?” this is the end, meet it like a man." “no worse than this, old fellow.” henderson, risen to his feet, glowered crawshaw shuddered. stupidly at him. “it's something to die in peace,” he said. "come along, and talk things over,” said “there are no indians here.” everybody's magazine “no great difference in the long run,” re- to the horrors awaiting them below was it not turned kirk stoutly. “there will be fewer better, after all, to submit to the inevitable, indians—i'll answer for that, how are and choose the easier way? to choose their we off for cartridges ?” death, instead of having to accept it in some there ensued a grim counting. horrible and agonizing form, amid shrieks seventy-nine. a pitiful supply and powder-smoke and raining arrows and “these are as good as a thousand,” said thrusting spears? the cowardly flesh would henderson, poking the little heap with a have it that crawshaw was right. the soul stubby finger. “i take it, the captain's idea within said no, and again no; a brave man ain't to fight-it's to get through somehow- fights to the last, and then falls, if he must, and if we hammer off the exhaust pipes the with unconquered intrepidity. noise will be worth more to us than any vera's eyes, so brilliant, so wild, so in- pistol-popping.” satiably fixed on his own, pierced him with “a good suggestion,” cried kirk. “we indescribable pangs. her beauty, her youth, can make a frightful racket by stripping off her grace and delicacy had never seemed to the hood, and letting the cylinders exhaust him so precious as at that moment, when, into the open air.” with a breaking heart, he mutely took farewell “and get an increased efficiency,” ex- of her. claimed crawshaw, awakening to technical "boys,” he said in a husky voice, “it's interest. “at least fourteen per cent.” time to be off!” he jumped up as though to set about the the engine, at the throw of the switch, task. began to explode and roar. kirk hastily “oh, not yet," protested kirk in alarm. changed places with vera, making her crouch “we don't want to start off shooting like a at his feet while he took her former, more cannon. we don't want to attract any more dangerous seat beside crawshaw. the pon- attention than necessary. there may be no derous car leaped back, leaped forward, and savages at all, remember; or they may be at with a sharp turn of the wheel and a clang of such a distance that we can slip through gears, sped swiftly down the incline. without detection.” “but the hood can come off directly,” said henderson with eagerness; "and then it will chapter xxvii take only a few taps to do the rest when the time comes." revolvers in hand, kirk and henderson what a help it was to do something! it is each watched the road in front like hawks, inaction that kills. the task of breaking off and at every turn of its twisting course drew a the hinges made a welcome diversion. craw- breath of relief to find it still unbarred and shaw fumbled in his tool-chest, and handed uncontested. it was so narrow in places out tools with a matter-of-fact air as though that a single good-sized boulder could have he drew confidence from their very touch. held them prisoners, while from above a henderson briskly seized the hammer and shower of rocks might easily have been dis- cold chisel, and neatly parted the brass. lodged to destroy them. as they skirted the two covers were flung away, revealing crags and precipices, they kept looking above below the compact and powerful engine. in involuntary terror, lest with crashing fury then henderson took a look at the tires, and some unseen enemy might let fly at them gave each one a friendly kick. with this primitive artillery. but nothing “the auld limmer's ready if you are," he disturbed their downward passage, and the said, smiling at kirk. “it won't be her deep silence was unbroken save by the drone fault if we don't make it." of the coils and the sound of their panting for a while kirk stood silent, unable to engine, echoing and reechoing through the utter the command to start. the unknown rocky gorges. loomed before him, pregnant with terrible their courage rose. their fingers tightened possibilities. he paused on the threshold on their weapons with a surer grip. they less from indecision than to pull himself to- began to feel a certain exhilaration in their gether and steel his nerves for the worst that own hardihood and daring. man—and the might befall. crawshaw's wail returned to white man most of all-is indeed a fighting him with tempting significance. “to die in animal, and once his first tremors are over- peace! to die in peace!” ah, in contrast come, he draws a long breath and is good till the adventurer he drops. kirk grew conscious of the change of the savages on their prey. its own de- in himself. he seemed to see it, too, in the struction was the price of those few minutes, visage of the gaunt scotchman; in little craw- at most not more than an hour, that had shaw, bent over the wheel, with lips com- filled the tragic interval. pressing at every jolt, and a new light shining the rifles-service mausers with side-clips through his spectacles. -were hastily loaded; the boxes of car- mile after mile rolled away behind them, tridges were transferred to their own car; and still they were unchallenged. they had the provisions and demijohn were replaced the solitude to themselves, and seemed to in their original wrapping, and carefully share it with no other living creature. they packed in the locker beneath the seat. all were engulfed in a vast loneliness, which this was done in a fever of haste and impa- was but intensified by the measured beat of tience—the thunder of both engines seeming the motor, and the rhythmic purring of the to urge them on with a thrilling reminder that chains. every moment was precious. crawshaw of a sudden, shooting round a curve, they jumped up beside weaver's body, and, push- were electrified by the sight of the other car, ing it to one side, backed the car to the edge -its nose rammed into the hillside, its en- of the ravine. then all three men laid hold gine racing furiously, and the overheated of the wheels, and with a united effort tumbled radiator boiling out torrents of water and it over. it crashed down the steep incline steam. the seat was empty, but over the like an avalanche, no one looking to see where dashboard, in a limp and dreadful attitude, it finally landed. it was enough that the there hung the ghastly apparition of a man. road was clear, and they were free to pro- they jumped out and ran to him. the ceed. face, as they raised it, and looked into the then they were off again, the engine hum- staring, sightless eyes, was that of weaver, ming as crawshaw advanced the spark to a the jockey. his neck had been pierced by a twenty-mile clip. the track was too rough spear; blood was oozing from a dozen other to bear more, for they were now on the lower wounds, discoloring his shabby khaki suit levels, where often for considerable lengths with great splotches of crimson; one hand the ground was untouched by either pick or still clutched an arrow that he had torn from shovel. jolting and bumping on their doub- his living flesh. they gazed at the corpse ling springs, they held on their way with with awe, gripping their revolvers, and asking fierce vigilance, their rifle-barrels covering one another, in hushed voices, what his er- every rock and bush that enfiladed them. rand could have been. there was something peculiarly trying in the a closer inspection gave the answer. sense of unseen foes surrounding them, of at his feet there was a rough package of unseen hands bending back venomous bows, sailcloth, which, when pulled out and opened of unseen eyes measuring distances and aim- on the ground, showed them what he had ing at the heart. those that had done for died to bring. here, tumbled together, were weaver could not be far afield. the wilder- biscuits and cartridges, some cans of pre- ness seemed peopled with lurking phantoms. served meat, a demijohn of water, and four the country grew more open, as, with rifles-snatched, as one might a life-belt, to lessening billows, it gradually attained the throw to a drowning man. this bundle had plain. rocks and bushes disappeared, and cost poor weaver his heart's blood. his had with them the apprehensions of which they been the thought, his had been the devotion, had been the cause. no ambuscade was pos- and now, as it were from his dead hands, they sible on the sun-baked earth, unbroken by reverently received his charge. even a blade of grass. what enemy there presumably with a dying effort, he had might be, had to show himself a mile or more disengaged the clutch, and pushed both spark away. the rifle, in cool hands, was now a and throttle into the last notch, with a view to hundred times more formidable than it had daunting his pursuers by the ensuing uproar. been. with its long reach, it could laugh but whether this had been done by design at the puny arrows brought against it. num- or by accident, there was little doubt as to bers would still tell, of course; but it was its effect. the sixty-horse engine, reverber- good to think that it was no longer in the ating with unchecked and terrific velocity, power of the savages to surprise them, and had been left to rack itself to pieces, and to that before succumbing they could sell their stem, with ear-splitting menace, the final rush lives most dearly. . everybody's magazine at length they drew near the familiar place where for so many weeks the fortuna had stood, immovable and towering, like a ship becalmed on a glassy sea. they slowed down, and gazed with a sort of disconcerted wonder, and a strange feeling of homeless- ness, at the spot they knew so well. all about them was the disordered litter of their camp-empty drums of gasoline; bottles; stacks of tin cans; some piles of firewood; a tarpaulin, freshly painted and pegged out to dry; tools still lying where they had been dropped; the pit for the automobiles; spades, picks, and crowbars in a heap; and those inevitable scraps of paper, fluttering in the wind, that everywhere seem to accom- pany civilized man on his wanderings, and mark his deserted resting-places. beyond, they passed the first body, the forerunner of those fallen hundreds that were to guide them so many gruesome miles across thellano. the savage had been caught beneath one of the fortuna's wheels, and lay crushed and hideous, his outstretched hands clawing the earth as though in a despairing effort to draw_himself away. near him was a horse, weltering in blood; and a dozen yards farther on were more naked and prostrate forms huddled thickly together as though one volley had brought them down. and so it continued, with a horrible monotony, a hor- rible sameness, till the attention grew callous, and the flesh no longer shuddered nor sick- ened at horror upon horror. occasionally a head lifted itself, and snarled at them. figures were passed, with matted hair and dark gleaming eyes, crouching and nodding on the blood-stained earth; others could be seen writhing, crawling, convulsively strug- gling to extricate themselves from the heaped- up dead that smothered them. there was a grim satisfaction in the thought of the diminished numbers to encounter. to the white man, in his extremity, the dead indian is always the best indian. the trail of corpses seemed to promise that the fortuna might vet save herself. surely the men who had defended themselves thus valiantly would not go down before that last onslaught they had witnessed on her decks! surely the sav- ages must have been weakened and the mass of them discouraged hy so terrible a slaughter! there were horses everywhere. tough, thin, wiry little broncos, caught from the wild herds that roamed at will over the prairie. a fine stock that had reverted to nature-as thrifty as goats, as indomitable as arabs, as tireless and spirited as their far-off sires in andalusia. the car, grinding on its second speed, startled many into floundering and in- effectual attempts to rise. others, dragging themselves miserably on three legs, snorted, reared, and tried to run, only to fall ex- hausted before they had covered a dozen yards. the sun set in a wild and fiery splendor, the warning of heavy weather soon to come. the wake of battle thinned, and at last abruptly ended. before them stretched the plain, as pathless, as illimitable as the sea. they stopped the car, and, getting out, put ear to the earth in the hope of some guiding sound. but there was none, and they had no alternative but to blunder forward and keep as straight a course as they could-the sun their compass till dusk, and then the starry constellation of the cross. but where? to what? the fortuna lay somewhere in that vast void, but how slender the chance of ever finding her; and if she were found, might not their success be more terrible, more heart- rending than any failure? what if they came upon her, ghostly, gray, and silent in the night, her decks a charnel-house, her crew sleeping their last sleep beside her guns? t hey moistened their throats with a draft of the warm, vapid water. eat they could not. they had neither the time nor the inclination. on, on, on—that was the impelling impulse. to put, if possible, their awful doubts at rest; perhaps, god willing, to find the ship all well and safe, and friendly hands outstretched to grasp their own. they started again, their spirits descending with the sun, the long shadows darkening their souls. cramped with long sitting, worn out by devastating emotions, dejected, despair- ing, body and brain alike spent, they re- sumed, with gloomy acquiescence, their rack- ing, toilsome way. the twilight deepened into dusk. the cross glimmered in the southern sky. mov- ing, always moving, yet they seemed to make no progress. the dome above, the flat below, they themselves seemed to remain in the very center of an unshifting world. they swept the pitiless horizon in vain for the least break, for the faintest outline of spars and rigging that lay somewhere or other beyond in the infinite solitude. but nothing re- warded their straining sight. the engine began to splutter and gasp. it took no expert to tell that something was seriously wrong with it. the car slowed the adventurer down. it stopped. crawshaw made no reply to the anxious questions addressed to him. he ran behind, bent down, and then reappeared with a haggard face. “tank's dry," he explained curtly. “been leaking for miles. the old wagon has run her last yard!” he leaned both elbows on the dash-board, and looked up at them. the action was eloquent of hopelessness. “run her last yard!” they were castaways, indeed. the radiator was boiling sullenly. the smell of roasting metal and hot oil was wafted to them. it was hard to realize that their willing giant had given up the struggle, and was now no more than an inert mass of steel. kirk was the first to put a good face on the matter—the cruelest and hardest duty of leadership. “i don't know that we need cry about it,” he said. “perhaps we are as well off here as anywhere. the ship is sure to beat back for us to-morrow." "if anybody is alive to do it,” muttered henderson in sinister agreement. “we're going on that idea,” exclaimed kirk angrily. “if she's gone-well, so are we—and all the gasoline in the world wouldn't help us!” crawshaw nodded. “captain's right,” he said, pulling out his pipe and lighting it. “that is, if the rest of those beggars aren't too close to us. (puff, puff.) if they are (puff, puff), we are in a nasty place (puff, puff), and no doubt about it.” (puff, puff.) kirk and henderson followed his example. for several minutes the talk ran back and forth on the same subject—the risk of going on, were such a thing possible; the risk of staying, which now had to be accepted as unavoidable; and the chance of the ship's picking them up. it was determined to de- molish the deck of the car, and keep a small fire burning all next day. here was another peril, but what other means did they have of signaling their position? a column of smoke would carry twenty miles at least, and though the savages might see it, so also might the ship. it was vera's voice that thrilled on them with a startling interruption. “hush,” she exclaimed. “i am sure i heard something." there was an instant silence. “over there,” she whispered." "listen.” from the gathering shades there came the faint and measured tramp of innumerable feet, the sound of horses' hoofs, the clank of metal, and an undistinguishable humming as of a marching company, drawing nearer and ever nearer. they sprang to their rifles, and waited, with thickly beating hearts, for what was to befall. cock, cock, cock-back went the triggers. death was approaching with muf- fied tread. teeth clenched, and muscles tightened. it was the end at last. from out of the night there rose a dark line of men and horses, the foremost ranks of a dim and straggling battalion behind. the course of the savages was not directly toward the car, but rather as though to pass it within a distance of twenty yards. the breathless little party waited for it to swerve and face about; waited for the yell of exultation at dis- covering them; waited for the terrific on- slaught that should roll up to the very muzzles of their weapons and carry them before it. but to their stupefaction there was no sign of turning. the long and plodding band held on its way in silence. impassive faces regarded them. a hand was pointed; that was all. it was only by degrees that they pene- trated the mystery, and understood the reason of that grim, slow, and stumbling progress through the dusk. there was hardly a man there who was not wounded, hardly a horse that could move out of a walk. that was why those naked figures swayed in their saddles, supported by the upraised arms of others trudging on foot beside them; why, hanging to every stirrup, some wretched, limp- ing creature held himself from dropping, and clung with the tenacity of despair to what for him meant life itself. it was the shattered remnants of the horde that only a few hours before had pressed the ship so hard. spent and broken, maimed, bleeding, and hardly able to drag one foot after the other, they passed in slow procession, and silently dis- appeared into the darkness. chapter xxviii it was some time before any one spoke. in spite of the witness of their eyes, they could not at once shake off an instinctive feeling of apprehension. their rifles followed their vanished enemy, and they waited breath- lessly for some act of treachery or guile. it everybody's magazine was only as the shuffling footfalls died en- put out their lamp; here ease and certainty, tirely away that they were able to comprehend with nothing to do but wait, with what patience the full extent of their good fortune. not they might, till the ship beat back for them. only immunity from attack; that, incredible it was a hard conclusion to come to. the and surprising though it was, seemed as fortuna's light beckoned to them with an nothing compared with the assurance of the almost unendurable insistence, bidding them fortuna's safety. for surely that was what to hasten. was implied. how otherwise could they t hey settled themselves on the ground as explain the forlorn and spectral retreat of comfortably as they could. the terrible day those dejected hundreds? the ship had was over, with all its shuddering horrors. triumphed! the good old ship, so long given up for lost, they shook hands on it with the fervor of was winking and blinking at them with daz- men reprieved at the foot of the gallows. zling encouragement. “she's safe, she's safe!” they repeated in an winking and blinking, indeed. why was ecstasy of delight. they laughed uproari- it never still? what could explain those ously in a revulsion that verged on delirium. incessant alternations, so regular, so irregu- rescue was close at hand. a few hours, lar, so baffling and capricious? kirk, much that was all-a few hours, and then-! tantalized, was roused to time the periods before they could get back to earth, and with his watch. the short flashes averaged while they were still in the throes of a feverish three seconds apart, the blanks thirty. he and almost agonizing elation, their attention grew immensely excited. was suddenly held spellbound by a flash of “crawshaw,” he cried, "they're signaling light. it shot into the sky before them, a us!” thin, brilliant shaft like that of a far-distant “of course they are," returned the little beacon, and moved restlessly to and fro. it engineer indifferently. “i've noticed it all was the ship calling to her children across along, only as we haven't the key i thought it the night! it was the fortuna, questioning would be too disappointing to tell you." the blackness with her vivid searchlight, “you don't know the morse code?” seeking news and sending it! "no." ah, with what a shout they greeted her, “nor you, henderson?” as though no long miles lay between, as “the dot and dash wigwag business? though the spacious prairie had shrunk to a no, captain." few yards! crawshaw was the first to re- “who on board the ship does know it?” cover himself. with trembling fingers he “i can't think of anybody but mr. west- loosened one of the lamps from its bracket, brook,” said crawshaw. “it would be just and, putting a match to the gas, placed it like him, at least, to have it poked away in his back at such an angle that ray answered rav, head somewhere. there's nothing in ap- and the two inet and crossed each other in the plied electricity that he hasn't mastered at one sky above. if good news came, good news time or another." also went, and deeply anxious hearts com- kirk cried out delightedly. forted one another in mute communion. “then he's unhurt! vera, your father the first thought was to abandon every- must be safe! that's what he is telling us!” thing, and push forward at any cost; to his words were received with a chorus of throw aside guns and food, and defying ex- enthusiastic agreement. the morse code, haustion, distance, and danger, reach the ship however unintelligible in detail, had yet con- as fast as their weary limbs could bear them. trived to pierce the night with one precious but on maturer consideration the risk seemed bit of news. too great, and the chance of success too un all at once kirk called for pencil and certain. they were utterly worn out, and in paper. no condition for a tramp of twenty, thirty, “i've an idea,” he exclaimed breathlessly. perhaps forty miles. the prospect of sinking his voice was vibrant, almost harsh. the on the way, with nothing to sustain them, and others, thrilling with astonishment, hurriedly no means of making their position known, sought their pockets. henderson had a stub was too desperate to be hazarded. here were of pencil. kirk snatched it from his hand. food, water, weapons, ammunition in abun- “paper, paper!” he demanded in an agony dance; planks with which to make a fire, and of impatience. raise a pillar of smoke when the sun should there was no paper. not a scrap any- the adventurer where. henderson volunteered to soak off “y- -u—you. yes?” one of the meat-labels. “nineteen, one, six, five.” “can't wait for that,” snapped kirk. “s-a-f-e-safe.” “good heavens, i must have it, and have it “any more?" quick! look again, boys. look, look!” “no, kirk." “would sandpaper do?” asked craw he read over the four words. shaw doubtfully. “safe are you safe?” “yes—splendidly!” there was no time to waste in further con- crawshaw ran to the tool-box, and got a gratulations. the pressing need was to couple of sheets. answer the ship, and so systemize their work “and bring one of the lamps,” cried kirk that it should be as little cumbersome as after him. “one of the kerosene lamps.” possible. the engineer, with a chamois- the contagion of his excitement had seized skin that had been used for straining gasoline, them all. they, too, were in a tremble of was appointed signaler; vera, timer; hender- expectancy and wonder. they watched him son, recorder; kirk, sender and decipherer. take one of the sheets of sandpaper, turn it “twenty-five, five, nineteen,” was kirk's over, spread it flat on his knee, and, lighted by first message. “yes." the lamp crawshaw held beside him, scribble. the following messages are copied ver- scribble, scribble as though his life depended batim from henderson's sheet. it was pre- on it. then he stopped, handed the second served as among the most highly prized sheet to vera, together with the pencil, and relics of the expedition. the writing is asked her, with the same mysterious intensity coarse and blurred, and very difficult to of voice and expression, to write down the make out. the paper, originally of a light numbers he would give her. fawn color, has turned to dirty gray, and is so retaining the first sheet, and mumbling to creased and broken that in some cases the himself as he slowly counted the flashes, he words have been only guessed at. the ship's at intervals called out the following numbers: telegrams, if they may so be called, are in each “nineteen, one, six, five, blank. one, case marked by an x to distinguish them eighteen, five, blank. twenty-five, fifteen, from the others. twenty-one, blank. nineteen, one, six, five, x “is vera safe?” blank.” “yes who asks?” “now let's see what we've got,” he went on, x “westbrook give casualties.” scanning his key. “what was your first “weaver killed.” number?” x “any wounded?” “nineteen.” “none." “s-go on.” x “ship hard pressed escaped do you “one." need help?" “a-go on." “no." “six." x “in danger?” “f-go on." “no." “five.” x “can you 'hold out till wind rises to- “e—that's right!” morrow?" “blank.” "yes." “s-a-f-e-safe!” x "have you food and water?” there was a tumultuous outcry at his “yes." ingenuity. x “how can you mark your position?” “no morse code about it!” he explained “will make fire to guide.” rapturously, as they pressed about him. x “ very good we will find you.” “just the old alphabet, numbered regularly “we ask news specially yourself.” down the line. a, one; b, two, and so on! x“am unharmed phillips emms ford transparently simple and obvious. here, webster bruce killed cohen dying.” don't bother me. shut up, henderson. a “convey to cohen wounded and all admira- little lower with the glim, crawshaw. what tion of heroic defense.” are the next numbers, girlie?” x “will obey good night.”. “one, eighteen, five." “good night." “a-r-e-are.” the signals ceased on either side, and soon “twenty-five, fifteen, twenty-one." after the ship's light sank, flickered, and went everybody's magazine out. their own, too, was extinguished, and with it seemed to go the stars. the all-en- compassing darkness resumed its sway, sultry, brooding, and heavy with a sense of impend- ing disturbance. not that the little party gave these indications more than a passing thought. there were other and more en- grossing matters to absorb their whole at- tention. in hushed voices they repeated the roll of death; recalled this one and that; mourned for them all, these comrades now no more. a passionate gratitude animated them, a passionate relief-the inexpressible sensations of a soldier who has emerged from the battle unscathed, at once happy and wretched-tears and laughter, equally sincere, succeeding each other in a whirl of con- alicting emotions. it was long after midnight before they began to nod. sleep came upon them so stealthily that no watch was set, no pre- cautions were taken. the tired eyes closed. the tired limbs relaxed. one indian might have butchered them all. kirk awoke with warm rain-drops pattering on his face. the hoarse note of a squall broke on his ears. he sat up, and even as he did so the heavens reverberated with terrific explosions, and flash after flash of lightning illuminated the slumbering figures about him. they were on their feet in an instant, and clustered about him. the rain descended in torrents, and the wind whistled and shrieked. wet to the skin, clinging to one another to withstand the violent gusts, apprehensive every moment of being struck by the lightning that incessantly played about them, they waited in misery for the squall to pass and vent its rage on the black night beyond. but another followed it, and another. the wind freshened to a steady gale. the rain stung their faces as it drove to leeward as though blown from cresting waves. the fear of thunderbolts gave way; standing in the blast grew too acutely uncomfortable to be borne; they sheltered themselves under the lee of the car, willingly accepting the chances of its being struck, all crowding together on the step like shipwrecked sailors on a rock. here the dawning day found them, the wind blowing harder than ever, the tropic rain sop- ping their thin clothes, their feet ankle-high in a muddy pond. the weather horizon was wild and stormy, and part of it was hidden by fiercely advanc- ing curtains of rain. ragged clouds scud- ded across the sky, dilapidated, fragmentary, lashed to fleecy shreds. under the equator the outlook was as bleak and wintry as the north sea itself, and a penetrating chill froze the little party to the bone. it was idle to talk of fire. everything was soaked and dripping. an attempt was made to obtain a little heat by lighting the lamps. but the heads of the matches rubbed off in sodden paste, and they dared not persevere lest their slender stock should become exhausted. even in their extremity they had to take thought of the future—of whole days perhaps before the ship could find them. famished nature demanded food. two cans of meat were opened, and biscuit were handed out, making a terrible breakfast, never to be forgotten, devoured in circum- stances of inconceivable discomfort. but it proved sustaining, nevertheless, reviving a sorely needed strength and courage. then, as the only means left in their power to attract attention, they decided to fire a rifle in the air at minute intervals. the flash might be seen, even if the report were lost in the roar and bluster of the gale. the dreary fusillade began, carefully timed by a watch-surely the most despondent minute-guns ever fired, if not the most hope- less. and as the barrel grew hot with repeated explosions, hands were eagerly warmed on it, and another rifle was taken in its place. kirk twice shot his revolver empty, and gave it, all smoking as it was, to vera to put in her bosom. suddenly through the gloom, on an on- coming squall, as unexpected and startling as the fabled phantasm that haunts the stormy seas below the cape, there loomed into view the towering masts and closely reefed sails of the fortuna, driving mistily on the wings of the gale. gesticulating figures pointed wildly at them. the boatswain's whistle piped shrilly. men were rushing to their stations and letting everything fly. the huge brakes screamed as steel was ground to steel, and the enormous fabric slowed and stopped. aladder was thrown over her side. beard- ed faces could be seen, clustering in a yellow, glistening mass of oilskins and sou’westers. from the bridge other figures were darting down, their voices lost in the bursting of the squall that at this moment opened with all the roar of heaven's artillery. lightning flashed and forked. thunder pealed. the wind swelled to fury, and howled through the rigging as though to carry the very masts before it. the adventurer ill, but his mouth was as firm as ever, and his expression as benignly unconquerable. as kirk finished, he leaned forward, and their hands met and clasped. “my boy, my boy," he murmured. “i thank god for this-i thank god!” “we couldn't have stood it much longer, sir." westbrook bowed his head in tragic as- sent. “we'll leave this horrible place as soon as you are rested,” he said at length. “when do you think you will be fit to travel?” “this minute,” cried kirk. “that is, if kirk supported vera in his arms, and, pre- ceded by crawshaw and henderson, the little party struggled against the blast, and toiled laboriously across the cable's length that separated them from the ship. they pain- fully mounted the ladder, their muddy feet slipping on its rungs, their icy hands hardly able to hold the wet and slippery rope. one by one they reached the rail and were drawn aboard, to be swallowed up in a mad hurly- burly of streaming oilskins. kirk had a confused vision of vera clinging to her father -of the old man's face, pinched with suffer- ing, and rapt and tremulous with thanks- giving; of von zedtwitz forcing his burly way to him, his eyes, beneath their grizzled brows, wet with other moisture than the rain; of goltz, of wicks, of hildebrand, of all those tried and devoted comrades, surging and vo- ciferating about him in an ecstasy, in the ex- cess of their joy. as in a dream he found himself borne aft, jostled, crowded, almost lifted off his feet; found himself in the great cabin-warm, brightly lighted, disordered with blankets and cots, and reeking like a hospital. wounded men called out to him. feeble hands were raised to clasp his own. he stood there dazed, bewildered. mrs. hitchcock emerged from a cabin door with an armful of dripping clothes. she dropped them to the floor as she beheld kirk, running to him in a whirlwind of giggles and exclamations. the incorrigible old egoist was as talkative as ever, and just as delighted to pounce on a new victim. she was the doctor now, she cried. kirk had to obey her now. everybody had to obey her now. he was to go to bed at once and tuck himself in with a hot bottle. every- thing was ready. hot blankets, hot bottles, hot broth! hadn't it been sensible of her to see to it? fortunately for kirk, crawshaw foolishly blundered into the fire-zone, and in the mo- mentary confusion that ensued kirk took to flight, and escaped to his cabin. his teeth were chattering as he stripped off his clothes and hurried into bed. he lay all doubled up for warmth, and tried to over- come the chill that mantled him in ice. there was a tap at the door, and westbrook entered, bearing a steaming bowl of soup. he sat down gravely on the edge of the bunk, and waited for kirk to drink it, which the latter did sip by sip, each one a trickle of delicious warmth. the old man looked very frail and “she has borne it surprisingly well. it all turns on you." “then lay the ship on her course at once. it would be a shame to waste such a 'gale as this when it is in our favor." “then i may tell goltz?" “the sooner the better, sir.” “that foolish girl wants a message. said i wasn't to come back without it.” “tell her i'm the happiest man in the world-and the tiredest." “no doubt about either.” “and that-that- " the weary head sank. the weary eyes closed. westbrook gazed down at the hand- some face long and earnestly. a smile still lurked in the corners of the well-shaped mouth; the breathing was as soft and regular as a child's; a veil of contentment covered the careworn features now softened in sleep. the old man tiptoed silently from the room and held a whispered colloquy with goltz and wicks outside. few minutes later the fortuna, under storm-trysail and treble-reefed foretopsails, was tearing her way through the dark and flooded llano. her great wheels shot up a blinding spray; her great hull rocked and bounded on the groaning springs; her masts bent as though the tortured wood could not long hold back the weight of the gale. wicks, his thick legs wide apart, one hand clenched on the rail, the other on his speak- ing-trumpet, dominated the uproar from the lofty bridge, and with masterful eye and rousing voice sped the ship on her perilous course. gloom in front. gloom behind. dreary, watery stretches of sodden earth. dripping ropes and thundering sails. a world of wet and wind and emptiness, through which the fortuna lumbered in headlong flight, jolting, everybody's magazine bumping, lurching; discordantly creaking in every rivet of her fabric. homeward bound! chapter xxix the gale held. the fortuna outdid her self. every bit of daylight was taken ad- vantage of, and she was pressed to the utmost. on the afternoon of their sixth day out, as they drew near felicidad, it was decided to lighten her of superfluous weight in the hope of getting her in by dusk. tents, chains, spare chandlery were cast overboard; casks of lubricating oil, of petroleum, of gaso- line, extra bolts of canvas, tools, anvils, jacks. it was like the stripping of some fleet runner for a supreme and final effort. she picked up with the loss of every ton-fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen miles an hour! part of the treasure was shifted forward to trim her better. tables, chairs, mattresses, ventilators, hatches, even the doors were wrenched from their hinges, and enthusias- tically sacrificed. von zedtwitz, whose cabin was crammed with aztec remains, had to mount guard to prevent them from following. a crated idol, lashed to the foremast, was saved only in the nick of time from being shot overboard. and all the while the fortuna with loosened reefs, with buckling yards, and backstays tautened till they whimpered and moaned, swept on with an increasing fury as though to outstrip the storm itself. “felicidad ho!” “where away?" “three points on the starboard bow!” “quartermaster!” “aye, aye, captain!” “luff a bit!” “luff it is, sir!" “trim in the sheets a bit, mr. goltz!” “very good, sir!” “that will do. belay there!” it was after five o'clock. the setting sun was hidden in banks of cloud. the wide savannas stretched away on every side to an unbroken sky-line, gray, monotonous, never so lonely as at that hour of declining day. the bow was crowded with men watching for the first sign of the settlement. on the bridge a smaller but no less eager party was trying to pick up the flagstaff with their binoculars. felicidad, once so distant, so inconceivably remote, the end of the universe—now stood, by force of contrast, for civilization itself. a speck of flag, blowing out bravely! a blur of tent-tops ! the tall and rusty smokestack of the moltke! then frantic arms waving hats! the fortuna rolled on majestically, dis- daining to shorten sail, or to slacken her head- way by an inch. kirk aimed her at the center of the settlement, determined to bring her up, all standing, in the great court itself. he would give felicidad a spectacle that would live in their memories forever, and bring the expedition to a magnificent and sensational close. in vain westbrook urged him to be careful-pleaded-almost com- manded. “leave it to me,” laughed kirk. “i'm going to land her alongside the marquee!” there was a hail of orders. a rush to stations. expectant faces waiting for the word. up shot kirk's hand. “stand by! shorten sail!” he thundered. the sails came down, lashing and re- verberating, flooding the decks with yellow billows. “brakes!" “aye, aye, sir!” “easy, boys, easy!” the towering hull sped nearer the rows of tents, dwarfing them into insignificance. “hard down!” “hard down it is, sir!" there was a grinding jar, the groan of metal on metal, a shrill screech dying to a moan. the ponderous wheels slowly came to rest. the voyage was over. a waggish voice, from the merry, noisy, hilarious crowd below, yelled out: “what ship’s that?” then came the answer in a stentorian voice: "topsail schooner, fortuna, captain kirk- patrick!” “where from?” “six days out of cassiquiare, in treas- ure!” any further questions were drowned in the salvos of cheers and counter-cheers that burst forth from every throat. the lowered gang- way swarmed with an incoming throng, shouting at the top of their lungs. . wicks, elbowing vigorously, forced his way up to kirk. “what orders, captain?” he asked, in his usual blunt, cool, sailor-like way. the adventurer “my dear old chap,” said kirk, “i have given my last order and," turning to vera, "the only captain i know now is this young lady. i've signed on for a life's cruise, and all you have to do is to wish me luck!” “with all my heart, sir,” cried wicks, “and if i may take the liberty—may god bless you both!” kirk's share was $ , . he invested the four hundred thousand in first-class securities, and devoted the odd thirty-seven to his honeymoon. vera and he worked their hardest to spend it, but had to admit at last, with great reluctance, that the task seemed beyond them. they were both of simple tastes, and, as kirk remarked, neither of them had been expensively enough educated. af- ter a few months' wandering in europe, they returned to america, and settled in long island in order that kirk might be close to the westbrook works in jersey city. he goes there every day in a small steam-yacht, and on summer afternoons vera is usually aboard to meet him on his return. it must be admitted that among their fashionable neighbors they have the reputation of be- ing rather poky people in spite of their ro- mantic history, going out but seldom, and not caring to extend a very narrow acquaint- ance. it is large enough, however, to include homer kittredge. his arrival in america was made such a triumph that kirk hesitated to obtrude himself into the blaze of limelight that surrounded him, and did so at last only with the utmost diffidence. but when he sent up his card at the st. regis, the novelist came down in a rush, as gay and boyish and unspoiled as though he were quite an ordi- nary person, and greeted kirk with an exuber- ance of regard. in a very few moments, the celebrity was outward bound in a spanking hansom, kirk's promised guest for a week, and his warmest friend for all time. the visit lengthened into months, and was the beginning of an intimacy that grows closer with every year. the crew of the fortuna scattered to the ends of the earth. news trickles in from them at long intervals, mainly in the form of a photograph of a baby. at the present moment there are sixteen tiny kirks growing up in various parts of the world, and a lot of little vera and fortuna girls. next year von zedtwitz is to hold a grand reunion at heidel- berg, where as many of the old hands as possible will be gotten together to celebrate his marriage to mrs. hitchcock. yes, the secret is out, though his friends long guessed whither events were tending. when the old lady quitted paris and built that famous re- production of the trianon on the outskirts of the old german town, it was felt that she was laying siege in form, and that the rugged herr doctor would soon succumb. his outer works gradually crumbled before the persistency of her attack, and a steel-engraved card, in gothic characters, now publicly flies the signal of his complete surrender. at present he is working hard on his book, which, when completed, will run to five large quarto volumes, aggregating two thousand closely printed pages, with sixty-two colored plates and one hundred and ninety pho- tographic reproductions, and will appear simultaneously in three languages. it is entitled “a brief record of the voyage of the land ship fortuna, with observations and notes relating to the ancient ruins of cassiquiare, together with an account of the author's captivity among, and subsequent escape from, the piapoco aborigines, with some general remarks on the flora, fauna, and anthropology of the mid-south american region.” intending purchasers had better order early, as an enormous sale is predicted. in the meanwhile, this unassuming and less authoritative narrative is offered to the in- dulgence of the public merely as a stop-gap for the more extended work to follow. the end "callie has come to announce her engagement to mr. bloudpole." the measure by mary stewart cutting author of "little stories of courtship," "little storiesoof married life," etc. illustrations by edmund frederick m r. french is coming to dinner again in her mind with one of the most distressing m this evening?" events of her married life, for which she mrs. derwent's tone showed an annoyance held him partly responsible. but as she that she wished she could control-it added turned now from her husband, who was to her dislike of the man that the mere men- stooping over sorting out his golf clubs, her tion of his name made her speak like this eye caught sight of the corner of an envelope to her husband. protruding from under some papers on the “yes. but bear up, vera; he goes to aus- flemish oak table, and her face instantly tralia next week. poor old ellison, you softened. won't see him again in many a long day.” it was a very charming face, with a pe- poor old ellison, indeed! vera derwent culiarly high-bred cast in the slender arch of met her husband's smiling eyes with a look the brows, the little straight nose, and the that refused to take mr. french into account full yet delicate lips. there were reasons with any pleasurable thought; apart from her why the glimpse of that purple, gilt-lettered dislike of him personally, he was associated missive from the descendents club should the measure give her that sensation of having been drawn way his simple, friendly brightness always back from the brink of one of the deeps of affected people. she smiled herself for the life-she felt gratefully, as she had felt any fond pleasure of it, until the thought of the time these three years, that she oughtn't to coming of ellison french clouded her once mind doing anything that murray wanted her more. how murray could like that man- ! to do; the letter stood now for the sign of a there had been a time three years ago, large relinquishment on his part. soon after their marriage, when he had taken "please don't be late for dinner if mr. murray to one of the great dinners at the french is coming,” she pleaded as he bent descendents club-gorgeous affairs, duly over her to kiss her good-by. “i can't stand exploited in the papers. she had no thought talking to him without you.” of any danger beforehand, but when murray “why, i thought you'd quite got to like came home, near morning—there were things him," he suggested smilingly. she couldn't stand it to remember. murray! “got to like him! that's just the way she couldn't believe at first, she couldn't you are, murray. if i don't say all the time realize why. oh, perhaps some women just what i think, you fancy– no, i'd never wouldn't have thought it was anything! but like him, if i lived to be a hundred. how that it should have been at all! murray! you can care for a man of his low caliber i it was like having something killed. she cannot see. and he exasperates me so by had never said a word to him about it. she always acting as if he knew you better than i couldn't, couldn't put him in the wrong. did! i don't suppose i could ever make him there had been only a mute confession and believe that you tell me everything, though a mute forgiveness, with afterward his whis- you do, don't you, dearest?”. pered, “you make me love you more every “almost everything." day.” “why do you always say that?" her face the only time she had alluded in any way flushed. “it teases me dreadfully, though to the incident was when he had received the i know you don't mean it. why won't you letter soon afterward, saying that he had been be serious?" put up for membership at the descendents. "i tell you everything you'd care to hear,” he couldn't help being proud of the honor. he answered, putting his arms around her he hadn't known until somebody went to with something tender and secure in their searching old records that he, once a country embrace that shamed her little fierce pretense boy in ohio, was the descendent of one of the of striving. “i'm always telling you that i heroes of a past age. love you! why do you want to work yourself “but you wouldn't accept?” she had asked up into being unhappy?”. in horror. “i don't, i don't," she murmured, resting his slow, pondering gaze had tortured her her head an instant against his shoulder be before he answered: “i suppose not, but it's fore jealously relinquishing him. if he were a pretty big thing to feel that i could. you to have his saturday afternoon sport he must don't know how much it means to me, vera. go now. i'm so proud of it. if you had seen those as he went out he glanced casually at the banners and trophies and felt that they were hall table and then came back as if from an yours in a way, too!” afterthought, and taking up the purple en “oh, murray!” she clung to him pas- velope put it in his pocket, with an odd mo sionately. “please, please, don't.” mentary change in his whole bearing, a haz- he held her to him silently for a time and arding shade of something not there before. then said, “very well.” his wife stood by the mullioned window and she knew he would give up to her; yet she watched him striding off under the yellow did not belittle his giving up. she knew that clustered leaves of the winter oaks, his golf she had asked a great deal. there were clubs slung over his shoulders. he was a moments when the incident came back to very goodly person to look at, tall, springy, her as an absolutely benedictory proof of her and athletic, with dark eyes, and what his husband's love for her-but when any one wife thought very beautiful dark hair on his spoke of the descendents club, she seemed well-lifted head. every one who met him, to see ellison french's face sneering at her. the lester girl, little may rogers, and old it was one of the trials of vera derwent's mr. drum, all had a sort of reflected glow married life that she disliked her husband's on their faces after passing him. it was the friends. before marriage she had always everybody's magazine hotly disapproved of the wives who had no place in their scheme of things for the men and women who had been their husbands' comrades. she had pictured charming scenes in which she, becomingly arrayed, had made murray's friends welcome in heart-to-heart fashion, winning their admiring gratitude as well as his. but when these nebulous friends stood out crudely as mrs. “callie" brainerd and mrs. topham and oli- ver webb and el- lison french that was a very different thing and it was also a different thing that while these people were all so impossibly uncon- genial to her, mur- ray never had the slightest idea of giving them up. he was as simply and frankly a friend as he had always been. for eight years prior to his mar- riage murray had indeed lived in mrs. topham's house where the others were fellow boarders — per- haps they had some reason for that irritating habit of acting as if he belonged to them. as far as vera could find out, murray was murray who, as a lawyer, had helped her to get her divorce from the man who afterward indubitably had married her. she was a pretty, shallow, clinging little woman, cased in a tin-like unperceptiveness that no expe- rience could remove. it was a foregone con- clusion that she would marry whenever she found herself free, and as disastrously as ever. but for all her shallowness and com- monness she had an indestructible kindness of heart. she loved, as she truly said, to wait on sick people; she was devoted to her delicate child with an un- reasoning affec- tion that kept him up late when he should have been in bed and would almost have fed him on poison if he had cried for it; and she was as capable herself of frightened misery as a child-her flesh and her heart cringed when she was hurt. as for oliver webb, there was nothing against him now except that there was nothing to him. he could sit like a fat, moon-faced dead - weight for hours without opening his mouth, though he always glowed from within when he was in the same room with murray. they all did, even ellison french, who in spite of his indisputably good birth was to vera the most unpleasing of all. through all his unvarying politeness to her there were times when his mere presence in the room seemed an insult to her, because she couldn't help feeling the manner of man that he was. that these should be murray's chosen friends and companions seemed un- she felt that she could never go back to the house. the establishment. it was he who fraternally “helped out” mrs. topham when she agonizingly “came short"; it was he who placated tradesmen, and as- sisted her out of all sorts of queer dilemmas with queer boarders. it was murray also who had found a position for little mrs. brainerd when she returned with her child after two years of marriage with a man who had just been found to have another wife, and it was the measure accountable, and lowering to him. and it always have everything in such beautiful or- was the same wherever they went, all the der. mr. derwent used to be a great one for rag-tag and bobtail portion of the community upsetting things; you could always track him inevitably gravitated toward murray's gen- by the newspapers he left on the floor.” tle, unjudging, honest cleanness. he con “oh, he was the life of the house!” chimed sorted openly with publicans and sinners, in little mrs. brainerd, who in a very short and the worst of it was that he never seemed skirt and a pink hat with a white dotted veil to know that they were publicans and sinners. sat on a low ottoman near the fire. “it he never looked at them from an upper seems as if we could never get used to having plane. he had such a simple, illimitable him away. earl often asks, ‘mamma, when humanity that he saw only the human streak is mr. derwent coming back to live here?"" in all these people, and loved it, with a heal “how is your little boy?” asked vera ing compassion for the defacing seams and coldly. she could never get over an extreme scars. irritation at these proprietary reminiscences. his wife admired the quality in him, but it "he isn't quite up to the mark,” mrs. made her impatient, too. it seemed incom brainerd answered with a clouded brow. prehensible that murray, who was fit to com- “he had one of his faint spells this morning, pany with kings, could enjoy a long evening and he had seemed so well just before it. once a week smoking and playing pinochle he ate up the bagful of crullers that i with ellison french, while she sate up-stairs brought him and then all of a sudden he and heard murray laugh as he never laughed could hardly breathe. that's the way it with her. takes him; he can't breathe.” she was still standing by the window in the “when you can't breathe it seems as if long, wainscoted hall, trying to solve this every minute would be your next,” said mrs. unending puzzle, with the purple edge of topham feelingly. “i know how it is my- that envelope remaining oddly in her mind, self. but that isn't what we came to talk emphasized by the altered air of murray as he about now. we had just a little hope that went out the door. was it another appeal we might find mr. derwent here, as it is sat- to him to belong to that club? her heart urday afternoon, and then we saw him in the stood still and then beat again, with the joy distance, going to the golf club. i said, and gratitude of her recovered faith. as she ‘callie, mrs. derwent will do just as well if was turning to go up-stairs she gave an ex- we can't see him.' callie has come to an- clamation of dismay. two of the subjects nounce her engagement to mr. bloudpole.” of her thoughts, mrs. topham and mrs. “oh!” said vera blankly, conscious of a brainerd, were coming up the piazza steps. sort of under-appeal in mrs. topham's voice. “at half past two!” she murmured, in vexa- “i don't think i've met him.” tion at the impossibility of the hour, and then "no, i don't think you have,” corroborated resignedly opened the door herself to the mrs. brainerd. “i've only known him a visitors, leading them into the library, where month myself; he's very distinguished-look- there was a log fire burning on the large, ing—so dark. i didn't want to marry again, arched, stone hearth. but i always did love a dark man, and then “callie thought it was too early for us to mr. bloudpole is a real new york gentleman, come, but i had to get back early to see about and i think that makes such a difference. i dinner, and i said i knew you wouldn't make always said when i was a girl that i wanted strangers of us,” announced mrs. topham, to marry a real new york gentleman. it's whose blackly sparkling appearance in a singular how your dreams do sometimes come spangled hat and prehistoric beaded cape true at last, isn't it? mr. bloudpole's a reg- was offset by the lines of her tired face, and ular club man; he belongs to the descendents, an indescribable air of having arrayed her- and you know what that means!” self hurriedly in shadowed corners. she “i thought perhaps mr. derwent might leaned back in the big mission armchair and have met him there,” suggested mrs. topham. gazed around as one whose eyes seldom “my husband doesn't belong to any clubs rested on a new interior. in town,” said vera coldly. she was spurred “this is a pretty room, isn't it? it always by the surprise in mrs. topham's eyes to reminds me of a church, with those dark a statement that she felt afterward was beams, and the stained-glass windows, though entirely too intimate. “we go everywhere the ceiling is pretty low, to be sure. you together.” everybody's magazine “oh, i thought he belonged to ” mrs. piled cushions invited her to rest; only to topham stared at her unseeingly, as if trying hear, a few moments later, her husband's to reconstruct her ideas. “i fancied i saw. familiar footstep bounding up the stairs. his name. ... well, of course, you'd know. “you!"' she cried delightedly, starting up. perhaps then it's of no use our coming over. “why, what made you come home so soon?” still, mr. derwent might be able to find out “oh, i don't know!” he took a strand something about mr. bloudpole, anyway. i of her hair and drew it through his fingers. really think it would be better for callie to “i thought i didn't care to play, after all. know something about him, though she doesn't come and sit down here again on the lounge. feel that it's necessary.” you don't want to get dressed yet.” “oh, i think you know at once when a “mrs. topham and mrs. brainerd were person's congenial,” mrs. brainerd said in here,” said his wife, looking at him a little her little light voice. “if a person is con- wonderingly. his kind dark eyes, his half- genial that means everything, i think. it smiling lips were just the same; yet she was doesn't make the slightest difference what aware of some hazarding change such as she they do! now, there's mr. derwent. i'd had felt when he had gone out of the door love him just the same if he was a-a-mur- with the purple envelope. derer. wouldn't you? mr. bloudpole is “i met them on my way back,” he an- immensely wealthy—not that that makes anyswered absently.“we had a little talk. difference to me. i'd work my fingers off for that man they spoke of-bloudpole-was any one i cared for, and i told him so! he kicked out of the descendents club four years brought earl the cutest little toy bear the day ago, and i fancy out of every other club he he came out here. he wanted to buy one of belonged to, poor devil. he's no more busi, the big ten-dollar ones, but they were all out of ness coming around mrs. brainerd than- them in the shops. mr. bloudpole is very but i'll stop that off in short order. she'll delicate; that's why i don't want to put off do as i say." our marriage longer than next week.” mrs. “mrs. topham seemed to have such an brainerd's light eyes suddenly became moist. odd idea that you belonged to the descend- “mrs. derwent, he looks like he'd ought to ents, murray.” have somebody to take care of him right “yes, sweetheart.” now." she had put her arms around his neck as “i really think she ought to know some she raised her face to his. “there's some- thing about him," argued mrs. topham with thing i've never spoken about to you, but an anguished note of appeal. “callie's been i'm going to speak now. i saw you take up through so much, mrs. derwent, and she's that envelope, and when mrs. topham said just about as much of a child as earl. if that-murray, i've been proud because you you oppose her she gets so set. she won't had the right to belong to the descendents, listen to me or to mr. french. if you'd speak but i've been, oh, so much prouder, because to mr. derwent, callie'd listen to him.” you gave up your right, because you are the “i'll tell him to find out everything he can,” man i wanted you to be. darling, please said vera. the attitude of these visitors don't speak yet! i've got to say it all now. toward her was like that of all her husband's i want to tell you that there hasn't been a friends—woman of intellect and beauty and day in all these three years that i haven't distinction as she was, they frankly regarded remembered it some time during that day, her with interest only because she stood the and loved you for it.” her voice fell to a nearest to him. they saw him through her, whisper. “it's put something into our life and him alone. she tried to be large-minded together. i can't explain; it's been like a enough to be leniently amused at the atti- sign, like a sign of blessing. when i've tude, and busied herself now not only in wanted to be selfish or exacting i've always giving her sympathy, but in ordering some remembered that. why do you look at me light refreshment, although it was so early, this way?" because murray liked her to offer it to them. “you're making it very hard for me, “mrs. topham always has to get things for vera,” said her husband. other people to eat, poor soul,” he had ex- she saw, with a fearing contraction of her plained. heart, that his eyes had a sort of a mist over . after they had gone she went up at last them as he took her face in both his hands to her room, where the lounge with its high- and raised it up toward his. “do you know n “i think i'll leave you two together now," said vera. everybody's magazine why i couldn't play golf to-day? it was be- cause i had to come home and tell you some- thing. maybe you won't like me any more when i've finished, vera. i've belonged to the descendents club for three years." “you!” “yes.” he stopped short. there was a silence that seemed as if it could never, never end, before he went on at last, slowly: "i don't know whether i can make you under stand, dear. somehow i couldn't give it up; that's the whole story. when i thought of the honor of it-it meant so much to me, it had come down through such a long line to me, the last of the blood, and i'd never known it before!—i couldn't let it go. i didn't mean to keep it from you at first. i've always decided things for myself; it seemed only natural. and then i wanted to show you, dear, that though i belonged to the club, i'd never go to another dinner there unless you were willing. i wanted to prove myself—and i never have been, not once. i never will go unless you feel that you are willing—that you can trust me. i had to have all the notices from the club sent to the office. i don't know how that letter got here to-day. when you kept asking me if i told you everything, oh, it hurt, vera! it made me feel such a- " “and you've deceived me all the time,” said his wife with white lips. she had been flushing and paling alternately beneath his intense, searching gaze. “you've deceived me all the time.” “yes.” “how strange! when i believed - how strange!” she pushed him from her, and rose, pushing him again from her mechan- ically as he tried compassionately to put his arms around her. “no, please don't touch me. i've got to think. it seems as if it couldn't be you. oh, i mustn't talk that way!” she looked at him, struggling to make some wonted loving effort in the midst of her anguish. “you have told me now- haven't you?-you needn't have—you could have deceived me always-so very easily!” her mouth trembled piteously. “you needn't have told me at all. i must remem- ber that. i ought to be very nice to you now, because you won't want to tell me anything ever again if i make it so hard for you. will you? i don't want to make you afraid to tell me things.” “don't, dear, don't!” he had snatched her to him, and was holding her head against his breast as if to shelter her from everything that could hurt; with little murmurs of love and remorse between his kisses, to which she made no response. it seemed as if she didn't hear him, as if she could listen only to her own thoughts, which fought together so hard that they were nearly killing her. she wanted only to be left alone. even when he was called out of the room by a message, she was not enough alone. she hurriedly put on her little blue felt cap and her fur-lined jacket, and slipped down the stairs and out of the door very softly, and then up the path that led to the wooded slope behind the house. never since her marriage had she gone out of the house and left him alone in it. she walked swiftly until she came to the edge of the slope where a jutting rock made a seat under an oak-tree. with her back against the brown tree trunk and a pool of crackling yellow leaves at her feet and under her hand she sat sheltered, looking into the pale blue, misty vista of the sky, trying to be alone enough to think. it seemed as if all that had made their married life was crumbling into ruin. if it were ever to stand firm again there must be some new element to keep it steady; she didn't know what. she couldn't get rid of this sense of confusion through which she was trying to pierce. murray had been deceiving her all these years. had she only imagined that she understood her hus- band? did a woman ever really understand a man? did he ever understand her? what quality was there about murray that was beyond all but her most momentary, most heroically striving comprehension? what made him enjoy the company of all those low people, enjoy different things from those she liked, made it possible for him to laugh and joke as he did with ellison french, and decide without thinking about her "as he always used to do.” he had been a man grown, no boy, when he married her. why should he naturally seem to make a plane of separateness for himself to which she could never follow? she wanted no separateness for herself? oh, it wasn't the deception that gave the worst, the most rankling thought! that made a clear wound that she knew she could love enough to heal, after a while, that she must love enough to heal. the deepest, rankling thorn was that underthought that this didn't end the matter—that perhaps more still, something else, was required of her. he would not go to any of those ban- the measure quets unless she were willing. he had his black hair, large thin nose, and full- wanted, however clumsily, to prove himself lipped mouth-been more repugnant to her. to her. for what end? that thought was she could always feel that he held her slight- torture. how could he ask it of her? could ingly, and was impatient of her presence, she ever be willing? would it be right for through all his outward respect. his very her to be so, even if she could possibly bring glance cheapened her. how could murray herself to it? all those days and nights when care for him? she had believed one thing and he had known yet to-night as she sat there, she tried the other kept coming up and pushing her with almost theatrical heroism to be carelessly husband from her. wasn't that enough? gay. her husband's eyes sought her hum- he had hurt her so much! yet she knew he bly, pityingly at intervals, beseeching her not was suffering more almost than she in that to suffer so much. she felt as if it were the anguished knowledge that she was hurt, and old, old game of souls, and as if she were play- by his hand. ing for something very high. the table set she felt that she could never go back to the itself grotesquely before her as a chessboard. house, yet she went at last. the dishes of olives and almonds and candies he was looking out for her and came to were pawns, the long thin vase in the center meet her himself, with clasping fingers that with its crimson flowers was the queen; the she felt had been longing to touch hers. two candelabra were the kings. she must “where have you been?" move something, but she didn't know what, "just out in the woods." any more than she knew what she was saying “you never went off like that before." or listening to, until toward the close of the his dark eyes bent upon her searchingly. long meal some words of ellison french beat “vera, oh, vera, my poor, poor girl, my poor, stingingly through that outer guard of un- darling girl. how can you ever forgive me?” consciousness. “oh, i have, i have forgiven. don't talk “for heaven's sake, murray, let callie that way,” she murmured painfully. “i brainerd make a fool of herself in her own must be worthy of your confidence. there's way if she wants to. she's bound to do it only one thing i must know.” she tried to some time, anyway. but if you're set on keep her tone natural, but it changed, in seeing bloudpole, kick him all you like, but spite of her, to a tense appeal. “you said don't give him money. he'll only keep you wouldn't go to one of those dinners un- bleeding you if you do." less- was that a notice of one that you . “why should murray give him money?” got to-day? did you want to go to it?” asked vera. he met her gaze with instant candor. mr. french's eyebrows went up. “when “only if you are willing, dear. it's ellison's you've known your husband as long as i last night there for a good many years. have, mrs. derwent, you won't ask that they'll give him a send-off. i'd like to be question." with them. but i wouldn't care for it an “it seems to me that i know him better instant, it wouldn't give me any pleasure than any one else can,” said vera, flushing. unless i could feel that you were really will- “don't pay any attention to him, vera," ing; believe that." said her husband, laughing. “i'd hate to "i do,” she whispered with a cessation of think that either of you two knew me as well pain for a moment. “but i must do what as that. i'm really quite a complicated char- is best. you won't mind if i don't decide acter!” until later, until after dinner?” “oh, a man's friend knows him as no one “no, no,” he responded. else ever does,” said ellison in a superior ellison french came early to talk to her tone. “look at stillwell. you and i know husband. she herself didn't go down until that a finer fellow never breathed, yet that dinner was ready, dressed in the black lacy miserable little twopenny wife of his wants gown that made her white fairness, the blond to leave him. why, if i'd been a woman, profusion of her hair, and the purity of her i'd have been crazy over that man!”. profile the more apparent. yet even the “i think i'll leave you two together now,” candle-light couldn't gloss over the little fine, said vera formally, though she was trembling. nervous wrinkles on her temples, and at the side of her mouth. never bad mr. french's she had been up-stairs a long while, in the presence—the sinewy perfection of his figure, half-darkness of the dimmed lights, listening everybody's magazine , " to the murmur of the voices below. once when they went down-stairs to mr. french, she heard murray laugh-he had a dear she saw by the questioning eyebrows of the laugh-in that absurd, surprised, infectious latter, as murray shook his head, that mur- way that mr. french always made him laugh. ray was telling that his wife wouldn't let him yet after a time she was aware of murray's go to the dinner. step once more coming up the stairs. in all “i'll meet you at the wharf on tuesday this fateful day no interview with him left morning,” he said, and, vera's light farewells the world as it had been before. what spoken, the two men struck hands in a long change was there to be now? clasp that seemed to hold in it the very heart he sat down on the edge of the lounge of friendship. gropingly. his hand felt for her face and french took off his hat to her as she joined rested against her cheek. there was some- her husband in the open doorway, where thing in the delicious gentleness of his touch murray stood looking after his friend. there that seemed to hold in it the very finest, the was a mocking, discrediting smile on the face very dearest quality of love, and to give prom- of the departing guest that flicked her like a ise of unknown joys to come, before he said: stinging whip. it said, “you've won,” not “dear, will you come down-stairs and bid with congratulation, but contempt. ellison good-by?” she and murray went back into the library. “yes, in a minute. murray, oh, murray, he yawned slightly, and took up a large book you know i want you to do everything you on steam boilers as he seated himself in a want, but, it isn't because you didn't, big isolated chair away from the arched fire- didn't tell me, my dearest" her anguished place. with his unfailing sweetness he held eyes, seen now in the dim light, besought him out his hand absently to her once as she with all her soul in them to understand, and passed him on her way out, and then became his soul met hers clearly, helpfully, half-way. absorbed in his book. in spite of his sweet- “no, no, i know that.” ness he seemed, as she looked at him, to have “but it doesn't seem right for me to lost something, some possibility of power it's letting you run into temptation if i do! which had been always felt as his greatest, if oh, murray, i can't say yes! i can't. dear, latent, charm. he seemed to have shrunk believe me that i would if i could, but i to a lesser content. can't. i could never, never be happy if i oh, she had decided rightly, her woman's did.” reason and her earnest conscience approved, “all right,” he assented instantly. “i and yet, and yet-she had a strange, momen- thought you'd feel that way. we won't say tary, appalling vision of some clear, trans- any more about it, sweetheart.” figuring height of comprehension and trust “oh, do you mind very, very much?” beyond, that she hadn't been able to reach- she clung to him. as if for that instant she saw what endless “oh, no. it's all right. we won't say beauty there might have been for both her any more about it.” he kissed her tenderly and murray in that pathway if she could -so tenderly. what was there that seemed have reached it! if life had shrunk, was it to be gone from his kiss? to her measure? autumn by arthur stringer the thin gold of the sun lies slanting on the hill; in the sorrowful grays and muffled violets of the old orchard a group of girls are quietly gathering apples. through the mingled gloom and green they scarcely speak at all, and their broken voices rise and fall unutterably sad. there are no birds, and the goldenrod is gone. and a child calls out, far away, across the autumn twilight; and the sad gray of the dusk grows slowly deeper, and all the world seems old! everybody's magazine “besides i'm always afraid that some of rather dispirited, but she had not reached the my young ones will fall into that lake," said sidewalk when her mother appeared hurriedly ma; “i shan't have a minute's peace while at the door. she's gone.” “opal,” yelled ma flickinger, “wait a "if she goes and falls into the lake and minute." drowns, she won't feel so funny over her “yes, ma.” * trip,” was jule's parting shot as she started “don't go close to the lakei'm as 'fraid home. as death of it; and don't take off your shoes "i dunno as you ought to go, opal,” said and stockings no matter what the webers her mother, when the little girl came down say; and keep your hat on your head; it's stairs, gorgeous in her pink shirt-waist, wine- safest there if you lay it on the sand some- colored worsted skirt, shiny vermilion belt, body might steal it while you wasn't lookin'; and great flapping straw hat, heavy with and don't spend anything but for car fare; faded cotton roses. and come home as early as you can.” “why?” opal's heart beat distressingly. “yes'm," answered opal, and started “well, it's hot; and i need you here to pull again. but she had a dull feeling that she bastings out for me; and jule wants to sew was doing a very selfish thing, and that her on her new green lawn, but there's nobody father had not really wanted her to have the to tend the babies; and mandy said somethin' money. about your lookin' after butch while she ma flickinger cut and basted, and basted went down-town. it seems about the worst and cut, then with a whirring abstraction time you could have took-but i don't know,” rushed her sewing through the machine. gave in ma, noticing opal's downcast face. flies gathered on the outside of the screen “yes,” she added suddenly, “go on; pa give door. the air in the close, stuffy house, you the money. take it and go. we'll git heavy with the odors of many meals and along some way. dusty carpets, "but that dulled her head twenty-five cents and made her would git me a listless, but she new calico moth- kept nervously at er hubbard her work. a pron,'' con- “opal! where's tinued ma flick- opal?” shouted a inger absently to boy's voice. herself; “my old “opal's gone one is in slits; i to st. joe,” said haven't washed it mrs. flickinger on a board for a as her small month--it'd fall grandson, clar- to pieces if i ence augustus, did. what're you commonly called waitin' for, butch, looked in opal?” through the “maybe i'd screen. better not go,” "where's said opal, stand- that?" asked ing irresolutely in butch idly. the doorway. “you know “go! land where it is,” an- sakes, ain't i said swered ma;“over 'yes' a dozen by the lake.” times; ain't you “when'd she got that quarter оu dосон аалал go?” continued your pa give you butch, undis- tied in your hand- couraged by his kerchief? goon.” grandmother's opal started, " you'll bake them twins," cried jule. shortness. za opal's half-holiday “after dinner.” have led one to suppose that he was sorry; “what'd she go over there for?” inquired it was with conscious pride and vainglory butch. as an interlocutor he might have that he went about crying, “opal's drowned!” made a fortune if mere number of ques- soon the yard was full of voluble neigh- tions counted. bors, questioning, "to see the sympathizing, lake,” said his pa- commenting. jule tient grand- was in her ele- mother. ment. it is doubt- “she'll fall in," ful if she had ever observed butch experienced a sagely, sitting more triumphant soberly on the half-hour. for her porch and striking mother seemed at the flies on the dazed and only screen with a spoke brokenly switch. now and then; as his grand- while elvie, com- mother said noth- ing over with ing, he asked, beulah in her “won't she fall arms, sobbed in, gramma; say, openly; and man- gramma, won't dy, butch's moth- she?" er blubbered "i dunno-yes, & you wol.com adams dolefully; so to i suppose so," an- jule it was left to swered ma ab- entertain the sently, without crowd on the realizing what he "i dunno as you ought to go, opal." lawn. of course, said. jule felt sorry, too; a shrill cry broke through the buzzing of but the joy of being for once in her life im- the machine. “good gracious!” cried ma portant outweighed grief. for poor jule, who flickinger, starting up from her work, had married at fourteen, was scarcely less of “who's hurt?" and darted out of the house a child than butch, and she still longed with just in time to meet jule, breathless and very all the force of her starved nature for notice red in the face, pushing one baby in the and praise. rickety old cart and carrying the other doubled “opal was such a good little thing,” said over her arm. soft-hearted elvie between her sobs; “beu- "ma, oh, ma! opal's drowned in the lah'd go to her as quick as she would to me lake!” cried jule wildly. or her pa." “drowned!” ma flickinger sank weakly “opal took more care of the twins than on the porch steps and wrapped her hands ever i did,” declared jule truthfully. in her apron; for suddenly she was cold and “she never complained and she worked sick and unable to stand. she had known like a slave all the time," moaned ma flick- all the time that one of her children would be inger. "i never had a cross word from that drowned in lake michigan. child. and i fairly begrudged her that “yes,” shrieked jule, “opal's drowned twenty-five cents," she added remorsefully. herself. somebody over there 'phoned to “opal's looked after butch ever since he fairy jones's mother, and she jest came over was a baby," said fat mandy; “butch'll miss and told me. and they've 'phoned to pa at her awful.” the factory, and he's gone over.” “and she never went nowhere,” cried jule, butch eyed his aunt jule in open-mouthed transferring her own pet grievance to opal. astonishment. at last, however, getting it “pa's been promising her to go to st. joe into his somewhat thick head that opal was for years." drowned, he immediately proceeded with the butch was enjoying himself to his fullest important news to the nearest neighbors; extent. “opal's drowned!” he yelled, spy- but nothing in his mode of delivery would ing fairy jones, who was coming toward the everybody's magazine house. fairy's red pigtails, which hung in hungry, washed silently at the hydrant, and, thick braids from her top-heavy head, were slouching with awkward clatter into the almost the same color as her fat, freckled, house, took their places at the table. they red cheeks. took no interest in jule's account of the ex- “she ain't neither drowned,” contradicted citement; they had heard it all from sympa- fairy, with placid superiority. thetic neighbors before they got home; now “she is, too,” shouted butch angrily. they wanted to eat. “shut up," advised fairy loftily. "mis opal came hurrying in just as the family flickinger," she began importantly, having began their supper. made her way through the crowd till she “did you muss your hat?" demanded her stood in front of opal's mother, “my mamma mother. told me to tell you that it ain't opal that's “not much," answered opal. but as one drowned at all; they just 'phoned from st. of the weber girls had inadvertently sat upon joe that it's somebody else.” it while she had it off for a moment to smooth the burden of her errand removed, fairy her hair, it looked rather lopsided.. stared with great, wondering pale-blue eyes ma grabbed the hat and eyed it critically; at ma flickinger, who suddenly slumped in but she spoke so kindly that opal was sur- a heap on the porch steps in a faint. prised: “well, it won't last more than this jule, grabbing up a decapitated drum that summer anyway; cotton roses fade som butch had left on the grass, filled it with they're too delicate to last a day in the hot water at the hydrant and, with the help of sun. set down and eat, opal; you must be officious neighbors, brought ma back to con- hungry.” sciousness. “think you're smart, don't you, opal," “it give me a turn," said ma shortly, when remarked jule, "to have folks 'phoning all she could talk, evidently displeased with her- over the country that you're drowned in the self for showing so much emotion. “i hope lake, and then turnin' up without a drop of opal didn't muss her hat or have it stole; i water on you? it seems to me--" worried all the afternoon about letting her “that's enough of that blab," interrupted wear it.” pa flickinger gruffly. “opal ain't to blame the neighbors trailed off one by one, re- for a fool kid thinkin' it was her and 'phon- calling other cases of people who had been ing in." drowned or reported drowned in lake mich “i suppose there wasn't nobody drowned igan, while ma made hasty preparations for at all,” observed jule sourly. supper. “a kid did fall in—but she come to-about "folks talk more foolishness through the the size of opal; that's how it was, if you've 'phone," declared jule, who was surrepti- got to hear every blamed detail,” growled tiously crying for joy over a piece of bread pa, who, himself knowing just how every- and jam, which she was eating with much thing had happened, was through with the relish in ma's pantry. “all this fuss came whole matter, and wanted to eat his supper through the 'phone. some folks'd 'phone in peace. for the police if a fly fell into the water-pail.” butch stood outside, pressing his nose just then pa flickinger, tall and bowed, against the screen. nobody noticing him, he shuffled into the house. yelled absent-mindedly, “opal's drowned!” ma and jule looked at him expectantly; “shut up," shouted pa flickinger. but he only said shortly, “supper ready?” “had your supper, butchie?" questioned “where's opal?” demanded jule. ma, whose chief pleasure in life was to feed “back a piece, talking with mis' jones. people. supper ready, old woman?” “naw,” grunted butch. “wash yourself and it will be," answered “opal, get a plate. here, butchie, crowd ma from the kitchen where she was flying your chair in between me and opal.” swiftly about to make up for lost time. “jule here?” inquired a meek voice out- “better eat with us, jule, seein' you're here.” side. “i guess i will,” said jule, who was dying “yes, i am," answered jule. to know how it happened that opal was not “i ain't saw no supper down our way.” drowned. milo, the father of janice and jasper, spoke bill, the eldest son, and jed, next older mildly. he was a stooped young fellow, and than opal, came home from work, tired and looked dead tired. opal's half-holiday "no," called ma hospitably,“ jule's eatin' bread and jam: “st. joe's a mighty slick lit- here. opal, git another plate. wash your- tle place in the summer-time." self at the spout, milo, and come in.” “bill's got a girl over in st. joe," unex- “what you got to eat?” inquired milo, pectedly announced butch, who was a per- rather to be polite than because he wanted fect treasure-chest of precious bits of gossip. to know. “shut up,” growled bill, but he could not “pork and beans and johnny-cake," an- help grinning to think that the knowledge of swered ma briskly. “come on.” sophie budzbanowsky had percolated into “don't care if i do,” said milo, and sham- loretta avenue. bled out to the hydrant; and soon returning “they've got a baby railroad train over with very red hands and face, was wedged there,” went on pa flickinger, “drawed by in between bill and jed. a engine no bigger than half a decent-sized the family all ate ravenously-excepting one." ma, who scarcely touched her supper—with “well say!” cried ma, interested at once. a great clatter of knives and forks and dishes. “and a toboggan slide, and a big pavilion opal sat eating silently, wondering over the with a band, and walks that's fairly lined strange tale that the neighbors had told her with tintype galleries. i was a-goin' to say of her mother's fainting. she had expected that is—i ain't been over there for ten to get a good cuffing-a favorite mode of year,” concluded pa lamely. he had evi- punishment in ma's family—or even a whip- dently intended to say something else, but ping, for causing so much trouble; but she could not work himself up to the point. found every one strangely friendly; nobody “i ain't been to st. joe but once since the even scolded her. day i was mar- ma had not ried,” remarked minded about the jule gloomily. crumpled roses. “there's the pa had stopped dangdest little long enough in merry-go-round his hasty stowing there,” continued away of victuals to dump her out "is't got real such a generous horses, gram - supply of beans pa?'' asked that, had she butch. eaten them all, “no, butchie, they would have they're only taken her off with fakes.” then pa as much despatch cleared his throat as lake michi- unnecessarily, gan, had she real- and blurted out: ly fallen in. jed, “i've got an in- with untold self- vite over to st. sacrifice, stuck on joe to a picnic." her plate a pork “what pic- rind which he nic?"gasped ma, had found in his utterly surprised. beans, a courtesy it was years since that he had not she had been to a shown her since picnic. she had the “the boys in measles. and "opal's drowned in the lake!" our factory is bill, after help- goin' to have a ing himself liberally to jam, spooned out picnic on labor day, and we're all invit- almost as much for opal. coming from ed.” bill, this was a wonderful condescen- “are you invited, milo?" questioned jule sion. breathlessly. finally pa broke out between his bites of “pears like it,” mumbled her husband, pa. everybody's magazine with his meek eyes deep in the cracked cup "i'm goin' home to work on my green that held his tea. “i work where your pa lawn,” cried jule, starting up from the table. does.” “bring it over here and i'll help," volun- “then out with it. why didn't you tell teered ma generously. me before? i'm goin'.” as for opal and butch, they said not a “of course we can't any of us go,” said word, but listened greedily. opal for once ma regretfully; “but it would be nice if we was really happy; in fact, the whole family could. i ain't been to st. joe since opal was happy; and clumsy pleasantries were ex- was a baby.” changed as pa and the boys slouched out- “it's only a mile on the street-car from doors to rest. down-town,” grinned bill. the air was full of plans for the picnic, “i kinder thought, seein' the boss men- though labor day was a week off. elvie tioned me and the family particular-like, that and mandy, hearing the news, came over to we'd better see if we couldn't go,” said pa. discuss the basket dinner; and pa flickinger, “and then when i went over and got opal peacefully smoking his pipe on the porch, and saw how they've got things laid out there, helped out with a word now and then, acting i jest made up my mind that we'd all go.” as an authentic encyclopedia, corrected to “'twon't cost nothin',” said milo, unex date, on the attractions of the resort. pectedly supplementing his father-in-law;“the ma flickinger, forgetting the presentiment boss he pays for the street-car." that one of her children would be drowned “we might go,” said ma, uncertainly, to in lake michigan, stitched away on jule's herself. green-striped lawn by the flickering light of “if we wa'nt asked special-like” began a small, smudgy kerosene lamp, a very happy pa, and then weakly stopped. woman indeed. for life—just life—toil- "that does make a difference,” admitted some as it was, with everyone safe and well, ма. was not such a bad thing after all. away from town . by harry h. kemp i tigh-perched upon a box car i speed, i speed to-day; i leave the gaunt steel city some good green miles away, a terrible dream of granite, a riot of streets and brick, a frantic nightmare of people until the soul grows sick. such is the high, gray city with the green live waters round, oozing up from the ocean, sobbing in from the sound. i'd put up down in the bowery for nights in a hobo bed, where the dinky “l” trains thunder and rattle overhead; i'd tramped the barren pavements with the pain of frost in my feet; i'd sidled to hotel kitchens and asked for something to eat. but when the snows went dripping and the young spring came as one who weeps because of the winter, laughs because of the sun, i thought of a limpid brooklet that bickers through reeds all day, and made a streak for the ferry, and rode across in a dray, and dodging into the erie, where they bunt the box cars round, i peeled my eye for detectives and boarded an outward bound; for you know when a man's been cabined in walls for part of a year, he longs for a place to stretch in, he hankers for country cheer. fit visita vile tleming a row of books by johan barreti somewhere in his “de profundis” oscar whatever may be our responsiveness to art wilde says, “we are no longer, in art, concerned (whether of the big or the little a) and however with the type. it is with the exception that we ready we may be to be carried out of ourselves have to do." this is one of the keenest and most by its large simplicities or to have our atten- explanatory of his critical observations. it lays tion turned inward by its later self-analyses, we the unhesitating finger of the skilled diagnos- are all at one in the demand to be amused or tician upon the seat of both the strength and the entertained between the acts. and fortunately weakness of modern literature. it places “the we are not forced to go unsatisfied. for those ambassador” no less accurately than “david who like aristocratic “turns,” c. n. and a. m. harum.” however, since the late comers in litera- williamson offer “ the princess virginia” (mc- ture must take the vacant seats, it is necessity, not clure, phillips) as a sort of “zenda” a la . choice, that has driven us, so to say, to the micro- i suppose we all have a lingering weakness for scope and the x-ray for our study of life. but we princes and princesses, carried over from our still listen gladly to the man who has something fairy-tale days. else it were hard to explain the unsaid to say on the bigger issues. this, i take it, long line of successful stories of this type. the is the distinctive element in the work of william present one is both brightly told and passably de morgan, whose “alice-for-short” (henry original. indeed, there is little that is reminis- holt), least formal and academic of recent fic- cent or réchaufje about it, beyond “rhætia's” tions, has yet certainly made the most catholic ruritania-like vagueness on the map of eu- and profoundly human appeal of any novel of the rope. another pleasant rehandling of a much- present season. if you ask what it is about, one handled theme is richard harding davis's “the can only shrug one's shoulders and say that it is scarlet car" (scribner). mr. davis enjoys a about men, women, and ghosts. but one can reputation that is interesting because, to the eye add that it deals with sentiment without being of the sober-minded, it is without visible means sentimental; with pathos without being pathetic; of support. he is, as it were, the matinée idol that it treats of weaknesses but is never bitter; of current literature, whose sole function, ap- with virtues and is never maudlin; that it is full parently, is to be debonair and to wear his fiction of humor yet is never witty. i think, too, that as though it were the adornment and not the one may indicate the book's greatest shortcom- source of his attraction. the present story meets ing, from the point of view of fiction at its best these requirements to perfection. it is an auto- and broadest, by saying that the most vital per- mobile love story in three rides, written with fin- sonality that one meets with in its pages is that ished offhandedness, and breaking through the of mr. de morgan himself. it is less his charac defenses of the public's susceptibilities at their ters than his attitude toward them, less their weakest point—their ready sympathy with a traffic with life than his comments on it, that pair of lovers who are up to date. touch the fundamental and stamp him an inter- preter of the type and not an expounder of the exception. but, for all that, he has a touch of greatness. let us therefore feast and be thank “the wingless victory” (john lane), by m. ful. we are told that he is a man of over sixty p. willcocks, is another of the recent novels and we are sorry to hear it. had he begun to which, while it ranges itself very definitely on the write younger he might not have written so ripely; modern side of oscar wilde's line of artistic but, beginning to write so late, we are conscious cleavage, is of more than average merit. it is a of a selfish fear that he may not write enough. book which one reads with growing absorption, everybody's magazine even with a passing enthusiasm of acquiescence in the author's insight. and if its characters are, after all, likely to lose themselves quickly in the crowd of our memories, our sympathies and our judgments are likely to retain the impress of their acquaintance. it occupies, in fact, the middle ground between the common, or garden, novel and the fiction of full literary and interpre- tative achievement. it is a story of homely de- von folk whose special problems and individual struggles between the weaknesses of the flesh and the strength of the spirit are no mere daub in local colors, but are allied to the special struggles and problems of us all. its women, especially, are presented with a clearness that holds the in- terest and with an understanding that broadens our own. but the book is unfortunate in what (in a literary sense) may be termed the social self-consciousness of the author. she begins each chapter, as some people begin each conver- sation, with the weather; and one has, as it were, to remake her acquaintance after every interrup- fession. his book is certainly open to no such accusation. he wrote a good deal of it on the spot while accompanying an ill-assorted, caught- as-catch-can party, led by a moon-gazing and unpractical professor, making an unsuccessful assault upon mt. mckinley, alaska, over an un- known trail from the coast. it is written in an atmosphere of wet horses, burned flapjacks, sub- arctic mosquitoes, and sweat; and has the interest which attaches to any genuine and "shameless” self-revelation. it gives, very graphically, the reverse of the explorer's medal. but it is no less one-sided for that, and we are willing to wager that mr. dunn himself will, a year hence, look back upon his own experiences with much of the pleasant illusion which he decries. tion. w. w. jacobs is possessed in full measure of that most comfortable attribute, dependability. when we pick up a new volume of his amphib- ious sketches, we address ourselves to them with much the same satisfied anticipation of famil- iarity and surprise with which we prepare to lis- ten to a well-known air rendered, with variations, by a virtuoso. the waterside gentlemen and coastwise skippers who meet us in his pages are the air. the troubles in which they proceed to entangle themselves, and which follow upon their characters as inevitably as the laws of har- mony, are the variations. and mr. jacobs him- self, with his inimitable technique, is the virtuoso. his new book is called “short cruises” (scrib- ner) and its twelve stories move on characteristic lines. the quizzical oddity of his characters and the absurd likelihood of their adventures still end in sudden and conventional bow-knots of dénouement which should, but do not, spoil the humor of them. and if his latest work is no better than his first, it is (which is really sufficient ly remarkable) just as good. the horrible and the uncanny are so seldom evoked with anything approaching artistic or psychologic effect that, as one looks back upon the experience of reading a story by h. g. wells called “the island of dr. moreau” (duffield), one is more and more inclined to call emphasized attention to it. the story, which is a reprint, having originally been published a few years ago-is horrible, uncanny, and gruesome. but the horrible and the uncanny undoubtedly pos- sess a well-defined and, i think, a legitimate attraction for the mind. they are bound up with the experiences of the race. they, or the possibility of them, lurked always in the un- known, and, even now, they lend to the mys- terious its chief esthetic thrill. are not most of us conscious of an emotional loss in outgrowing our terror of the dark? this account of the island of dr. moreau, and what went on there, is supposed to have been found among the papers of an english gentleman, who was ship- wrecked in the south seas and was picked up, apparently deranged, from an open boat some eleven months after his disappearance. the period of his absence had been passed on a small island where a scientific fanatic and his assistant had for many years been experimenting in vivi- section and surgical patchwork. they had, if one may so express it, manufactured a commu- nity of monstrous animals endowed, more or less bunglingly, with human form, and imbued with a more or less tentative travesty of human in- telligence. in the description of these monsters, in the glimpsing of their bestial yet cunning minds, and above all in the subtle hinting of the whole tale at a satirical and sardonic double meaning, mr. wells has called to his aid both his vivid and constructive imagination and that ar- tistic restraint that knows the value of suggestion. we were speaking, a month or two ago, of dillon wallace's “the long labrador trail,” an interesting account of difficult pioneer ex- ploration. mr. wallace, i think, conveys in his narrative a fair composite impression of tne ex- plorer's sufferings in the endeavor, and gratifica- tion in the retrospect, of his achievement. but mr. robert dunn, the author of “the shame- less diary of an explorer” (outing co.), evi dently thinks that all explorers are liars in that, once safely home again, they wilfully minimize the discomforts and magnify the glories of their pro- the literary career and personality of mr. thomas dixon, jr., have borne more than a super- a row of books ating theses with blue ribbons. there has crept into mrs. black's later work a subtle but unes- capable flavor of disintegrating sensibility, which is neither disguised nor made up for by the rather obviously grandiloquent strain of symbol- ism and the supernatural which ran through “the genius” and is continued in “the prin- cess.” the present novel is effective and en- grossing; it reaches, once at least, a striking height and fulness of dramatic situation; but it dies in the memory intestate and without issue. ficial resemblance to a comet. not only did his first and spectacular appearance from outer space, some five years ago, excite feelings of ad- miration and awe in the minds of the impression able, but it even aroused recurring discussion in speculative circles as to whether, if the literary world ever actually met the nucleus of the new luminary, it would burst into flames or pass through unconscious of the encounter. mr. dixon has just published the third novel in his trilogy of reconstruction. it is called “the traitor” (doubleday, page) and deals with the suppression of the kuklux klan in north caro- lina. and it enables us to pronounce with con- siderable definiteness that the elements of this particular comet's effulgence are gaseous matter and momentum. “the traitor," to drop the simile, is an essentially theatrical story, effective enough in outline, but deliberately loaded with cheap sentiment and tawdry sensationalism. it has swing to it. it moves in an environment full of the possibilities of passion. yet one cannot but feel that its crudities are calculated and its solecisms intentional. in short, taken in con- junction with the author's previous work, it sug- gests, not a mere following of the line of least re- sistance toward spectacular superficiality, but a purposed pandering to the cravings of shallow emotionalism. other books “beatrix of clare”—(lippincott). a revival of the earlier form of the historical romance of chivalry and love. a graceful tale by john reed scott "jerry junior”—(the century co.). a bright little comedy-romance by jean webster. utterly ephemeral, but suited to an inconsequent mood. “through the gates of the netherlands” — (little, brown). a volume of appreciative “snooping” through the highways and byways of holland by mary e. waller. “east of suez" (the century co.), by frederic c. penfield. the record of a trip from egypt through the orient, by a traveler of an ob- servant and statistical bent, who enjoyed excep- tional opportunities. "bar- ” (outing co.), by clarence e. mul- ford. a cowboy story whose pages are a human shambles. “my life as an indian”—(doubleday, page). a volume of authentic and interesting reminis- cences by j. w. schultz, who spent many years with the blackfoot indians and married one of readers of an investigative turn of mind-the kind who never meet a solar eclipse in a work of fiction without turning up the almanac to verify the date--will need to provide themselves with the latest edition of the almanac de gotha before sitting down to enjoy margaret potter's story of russian royalty, "the princess" (harper). the author, with her remarkable knack of what small boys call “boning up” upon any subject that has arrested her versatile imagination, seems to have persuaded herself, and goes far toward persuading her readers, that she is the confidante of all the romanoffs from the reigning czar to the humblest cousin of the house. the tragic story of a double liaison in st. petersburg which has resulted is magnificent as an example of “cheek" and is by no means without its human interest as an emotional drama. but margaret potter is paying the penalty of precocious talent. one does not, with impunity, write “uncanon- ized” when one's generation is binding gradu- them. “to the credit of the sea”—(harper). a connected series of good stories from the life of a gloucester fishing skipper, written by lawrence mott. “german ideals of to-day” -(houghton, miffin). a collection of excellent papers upon modern german art and literature, by kuno franke. pon love illming under the spreading chestnut tree editor's note.-a good story is a treasure, and, like other precious things, hard to find. our read. ers can assist us, if they will, by sending any anecdotes they find that seem to them good. though the sign is the chestnut tree, no story is barred by its youth. the younger the better. we shall gladly pay for available ones. address all manuscripts to “the chestnut tree." an aged jersey farmer, visiting a circus for the first time, stood before the dromedary's cage, eyes popping and mouth agape at the strange beast within. the circus proper began and the crowds left for the main show, but still the old man stood before the cage in stunned silence, appraising every detail of the misshapen legs, the cloven hoofs, the pendulous upper lip, and the curiously mounded back of the sleepy-eyed beast. fifteen minutes passed. then the farmer turned away and spat disgustedly. “hell, there ain't no such animal!” this last was too much. “i'll not,” the candidate declared defiantly. “i'll stay single.” “single?" inquired the doctor, puzzled. “single," repeated the irishman with determi- nation. “sure an' what's all this funny business got to do wid a marriage license anyhow?” he had strayed into the wrong bureau. “john, john," whispered an alarmed wife, poking her sleeping husband in the ribs. “wake up, john; there are burglars in the pantry and they're eating all my pies.” "well, what do we care,” mumbled john, roll- ing over, “so long as they don't die in the house?” a big, husky irishman strolled into the civil service room where they hold physical examina- tions for candidates for the police force. “strip,” ordered the police surgeon. “which, sor?” “get your clothes off, and be quick about it,” said the doctor. the irishman undressed. the doctor measured his chest and pounded his back. “hop over this rod," was the next command. the man did his best, landing on his back. “double up your knees and touch the floor with your hands." he lost his balance and sprawled upon the floor. he was indignant but silent. “now jump under this cold shower.” “sure an' thot's funny," muttered the ap- plicant. “now run around the room ten times. i want to test your heart and wind.” the foreman and his crew of bridgemen were striving hard to make an impression on the select board provided by mrs. rooney at her arkansas eating establishment. “the old man sure made a funny deal down at piney yesterday," observed the foreman, with a wink at the man to his right. “what'd he do?” asked the new man at the other end of the table. “well, a year or so ago there used to be a water-tank there, but they took down the tub and brought it up here to cabin creek. the well went dry and they covered it over. it was four or five feet round, ninety feet deep, and plumb in the right of way. didn't know what to do with it under the spreading chestnut tree in may she generally goes away for a week or two and returns with a tall, red calf with wabbly legs. her name is rose. i would rather sell her to a non-resident." until along comes an old lollypop yesterday and gives the old man five dollars for it.” “five dollars for what?” asked the new man. "well,” continued the foreman, ignoring the interruption, “that old lollypop borrowed two jacks from the trackmen and jacked her up out of there and carried her home on wheels." “what'd he do with it?" persisted the new man. “say, that old lollypop must've been a yank. nobody else could have figured it out. the ground on his place is hard and he needed some more fence. so he calc'lated 'twould be easier and cheaper to saw that old well up into post- holes than 'twould be to dig 'em." thereafter the new man bit more on his food and less on the conversation. a new cabby had taken up his stand at union square. “gettin' in a new horse?" asked one of the old- timers, eying the bony nag critically. “aw, wotcher givin' us!” "see yer got the framework up already.” a southern lady who had been frequently annoyed by her darky cook's having company in the kitchen, remonstrated with the girl, telling her that she must entertain her friends in her own quarters after working hours. one evening soon after this the lady left the girl arranging the dinner-table and went to the kitchen for something. a great, hulking darky was sitting in the kitchen rocker. indignant, the lady hurried back to the dining-room. "cindy," she demanded, “what have i told you about having your beaux in the kitchen?” "laws, miss, he ain't no beau! why, he's nuffin' but my brudder.” somewhat mollified, the lady went back to the kitchen. “so you are cindy's brother?” she said kindly. “law bless yo', no, miss," he answered. "i ain't no 'lation 'tall to her. i's jes' keepin' comp’ny wif her.” the lady, angry through and through, sought out cindy again. “cindy," she asked sternly, “why did you tell me that that man was your brother? he says he is no relation to you." cindy looked aghast. “fo’ de lawd's sake, miss, did he say dat? jes' yo' stay here a minute an' lemme go look agʻin!" it had been anything but an easy afternoon for the teacher who took six of her pupils through the museum of natural history, but their enthusiastic interest in the stuffed animals and their open- eyed wonder at the prehistoric fossils amply repaid her. "well, boys, where have you been all after- noon?" asked the father of two of the party that evening. the answer came back with joyous prompt- ness: “oh, pop! teacher took us to a dead circus." a coney island fortune-teller was trying to persuade a farmer to have his fortune told. “it's only a quarter,” she urged, “and if i don't tell you your name right you get your money back.” “humph,” grunted the farmer suspiciously. “what in tarnation do i want you to tell me my name for? i know it already." one of our readers, looking over an old scrap- book recently, came across the following ad- vertisement written by the late bill nye: “owing to ill-health i will sell at my residence in township , range , according to govern- ment survey, one plush raspberry-colored cow, aged eight years. she is a good milker and is not afraid of the cars nor anything else. she is of undaunted courage, and gives milk frequently to a man who does not fear death in any form she would be a great boon. she is very much attached to her house at present by means of a stay chain, but she will be sold to any one who will use her right. she is one-fourth short-horn and three-fourths hyena. i will also throw in a double-barreled shotgun which goes with her. “once when i was going out to visit some friends," says mark twain, “i told george, my negro servant, to lock the house and put the key under a certain stone near the steps. he agreed to do so. “it was late at night when i returned. i went to the stone under which the key was supposed to have been hidden. it was gone. i hunted around for about fifteen minutes, but still no key. "finally i went to george's house-he roomed everybody's magazine outside-and rapped vigorously upon the door. a black head, which i had no difficulty in recog- nizing as george's, popped out of an up-stairs window. “where did you put that key, you black rascal?' i roared. "oh, massa,' answered george, 'i found a better place for it.”” in “under the spreading chestnut tree,” in the august number, we told the true story of the now famous postage-stamp joke and the seven honest persons. incidentally, we announced that we were holding in trust a check for $ . for the man who could prove himself the lawful parent of that joke, or his heirs. now comes a sequel to the story, from which it would seem that at last we have found the man who told the man who told the man-etc. anyhow, the following letter looks to us like a good claim for the $ . and the authorship of a good thing: a teacher in a new england school had found great difficulty in training her pupils to pronounce final g. one day when a small boy was reading, he came to a sentence that he pronounced as follows: “what a good time i am havin'!” “no, johnny,” interrupted the teacher, "you made a mistake. don't you remember what i've been telling you? try that last sentence again." johnny reread as before, “what a good time i am havin'!” “no, no," said the teacher a little impatiently. “don't you know all i've told you about pro- nouncing the g?” johnny's face lightened, and he began again, confidently: “gee, what a good time i am havin'!” when mr. jones's seventh son was born, there was great rejoicing. two or three days after the event, one of the neighbors, meeting tommy, the eldest son, asked if he were not sorry that his baby brother was not a baby sister. tommy shook his head. “no ma'am, not me!” he replied with great decision. “y' see we're tryin' for a baseball nine." editor of everybody's magazine. dear sir: concerning the joke about the young man, the postage-stamp, and the correspondence school: one morning last january, ralph tilton, whose originality no one doubted, came into my studio and told franklin adams and me of a young man whom he had just seen in a drug store buying a stamp, and who interested him by the queer manner in which he stamped an envelope. ralph gave an elaborate imitation of the lisping chap and of the finicky care he exercised in licking and placing the stamp. this convulsed both adams and me. “now, what do you suppose the fool was trying to do?" asked ralph. i suggested that he probably had been studying the language of flowers, or handkerchief and stamp flirtation, and maybe it meant “we must part” or “beware of a tall dark man." tilton replied, "no. i think he belonged to a correspondence school, and that was his college yell.” this is the joke that ralph built. we all agreed that there was a story. i handed it around for sev- eral days and it finally reached hamilton king, who is the first recorded narrator of the yarn. there may be a thousand indorsements yet to go on the check, and it might look like a paving petition if one tried to trace through all the missing links between its inception and the time it got to king, for verily a new story travels faster than does scandal. “where do all the jokes come from?” is a bro- midic query even among traveling salesmen, and mr. robert h. davis truly says that “no man ever yet got on the trail of a joke and brought up any- where in particular.” but i should like it recorded that franklin adams and i are probably the only liv- ing persons who really sat right there and officiated at the birth of a joke. the pity of it all is that the creator of this jest can- not take part in this merry quest, even though i feel that his natural modesty would have deterred him from revealing what he would call his " guilt." therefore i beg you to accept this as authority, and to credit this comparatively meager mot-con- sidering his many other brilliant accomplishments- to the late ralph tilton. very truly, sewell collins. new york, july , . senator knox told this story at the elks' con- vention in philadelphia: a delegation from kansas visited president roosevelt at oyster bay not long ago. the president met them with coat and collar off, mopping his brow. "ah, gentlemen,” he said, “dee-lighted to see you. dee-lighted. but i'm very busy putting in my hay just now. come down to the barn with me and we'll talk things over while i work." down to the barn hustled president and delegation. mr. roosevelt seized a pitchfork and-but where was the hay? “john!” shouted the president. “john! where's all the hay?" "sorry, sir," came john's voice from the loft, “but i ain't had time to throw it back since you threw it up for yesterday's delegation." everybodystoagazine published by the ridgway company erman j. ridgway, president john o'hara cosgrave wm. l. jennings, sec'y and treas. ray brown, art director editor robert frothingham, ado. mgr. east th street, new york city with “everybody's" publishers this country,” an old man once said to then we'll run the line up to take in la fol- us, “is just like an overgrown boy. lette of wisconsin, and johnson of minne- it's awkward and ungainly; it's as full of sota, and bring it back to folk in missouri. conceit and bumptious knowledge as a social. then we could jump to denver for ben lind- ist; it has a tremendous smoldering strength, say, and end in san francisco. we are and”—he paused a second—"and all the moving some. perhaps we can overturn the pimples are on top.” lid metaphor, so familiar in recent cartoons. often since we've thought of that. mr. it's the grafters who are struggling to keep wister's article on the scurrile graft in the the lid down just now. building of the capitol at harrisburg- -in let's look the question in the face and re- this number—reminded us of it. the more port progress. there's no danger of over- we think of it, the truer it seems. now, we confidence from a recital of the few victories as a country are years old; is to — we have won. the fight has only just be- for a pimply boy might be guessed at as gun. does anyone know where we are? - is to as x is to —the age of de- to-day, we're in a position of some precari- veloped manhood. breathing hard over the ousness. the stock market has broken bad- algebra, we find that x= ,—why, we won't ly. credit—the breath of business life—is be a full-grown nation, really civilized, and hesitant. the future looms up uncertain. in our young manhood, ready fully to assume what we need is coolness, temperance, san- our responsibilities, till ! and in the ity. we have passed through the first bitter mean time, there are a good many pimples stage in which our prejudices and passions in sight; now, aren't there? have been involved. we should now move aren't we a busy people? there is scarce- forward justly, sincerely, with the work. we ly a state or city that hasn't its crusade against want clear thinkers for our leaders. we need graft. it is bubbling up in most unexpected matthew arnold's places. we have winston churchill fighting one common wave of thought and joy the railroads in new hampshire, and heney lifting mankind again. and spreckels fighting municipal corruption in san francisco. they're , miles apart. and it is this clear thinking that is our aim we could plot a line-if plotting a line were for the magazine for . we shall do the not so much a bore-following the course of best we can to present the sanest type of crit- anti-graft agitation. new hampshire, rhode icisms on national conditions, and to point island—both losing fights. hughes in new out with the clearest minds we can get the york with his public utilities commission, diseases and the cures; but we can only do probably the most remarkable feature of this it gropingly. it is hard to see the way. it ten years' fight; colby and fagan in new is still harder to get the right people to show jersey; the half-smothered revolt in penn- it to us. but in the november number we sylvania; tom johnson and brand whitlock have an article by william hard, on “mak- in ohio; judge landis and his $ , , ing steel and killing men,” which is exactly suggestion to the standard oil in illinois. the type of material we want—the presenting everybody's magazine of a case with discernment and justice and is not like de maupassant except in the re- fearlessness. when you get through with markable cleverness and brilliancy with which mr. hard's article, you will know both sides his plots are worked out; but in his expression, of the story, and you will be able to reach an in his individuality, and in his humor, he is honest judgment. pure american. to know . henry is a joy. but if we wish to reflect in our pages the we were at work to-day trying hard to get state of the country, we must show both sides a trenchant characterization of mr. wister's of the shield. you must have noticed in the article on the looting of the capitol at har- magazine for the last twelve months a num- risburg. we were making progress-back- ber of articles that were intended for up- ward, when mr. henry came in. builders. you saw stories of james j. hill "help! help!” we called to him. “we and of george westinghouse-upbuilders of want a sharp epitome of our harrisburg ar- the republic. these men are not perfect. ticle. come on in.” you know that. so do we. but we claim h e thought a short minute and then said, that they are essentially creators, and not “why don't you call it ‘the capital crime manipulators. admitting his faults, what a by harrisburglars'?”. wonderful empire hill has added to our mr. henry is a slow producer; many country; and in these days of american lead- magazines to-day are claiming stories of his ership in engineering works, how high stands for publication. they can't get them. we mr. westinghouse in his vast contribution have published more o. henry stories in to our added wealth. we have now under than all the other magazines put to- way more of these studies-in individual con gether. we now have two more of his stories tributions to our civilization. on hand, and both the november and christ- if you subscribe for everybody's for mas numbers will contain his work. you will stand behind this policy; you will find, we believe, some explanation and illu our love of a laugh has helped and will mination of our present troubles; and more help this nation over rough places and dan- than all, you will get suggestions for con gerous situations. the case of mr. eugene structive methods of correcting these evils. wood might well typify our national use of humor to ease the ugly spots of life. mr. wood boarded a car one night on his way tarkington and o. henry home, seating himself near the front door. we mean to reflect the literary life of a burly and combative-looking chap, stand- the country. we mean to get for you the ing against the door, was whistling badly out best fiction of our writers. whether their of tune. mr. wood stood it for a time and names are known or unknown, we want the then began to give signs of annoyance. best. we have begun by securing from “maybe you don't like my whistling," booth tarkington a serial written during his said the man threateningly. last year in paris. we should say that if there “i don't,” replied mr. wood. is any man among the young writers of amer- “perhaps you're man enough to stop it,” ica to-day whose work in breadth of view, said the fellow angrily. in characterization and in technique, can well "perhaps not, but i hoped you were,” be compared with the best modern french replied mr. wood. writers, it is tarkington. perhaps the most and he was. distinguishing element in the story is its we've had a strong blend of humor in the charm. it is nearer “monsieur beaucaire” last year. we're planning to have more of than “the gentleman from indiana"; but it it. we've told you of mr. henry. we shall is not like either of them. it is new and have mr. wood. joe lincoln, with his original, working out a dramatic and absorb- • homely, lovable cape cod characters and ing problem, and throughout it runs a sweet clean-cut and wholesome fun, has won a warm and wholesome bit of love-making. we are place in all hearts. broughton brandenburg congratulating ourselves that mr. tarkington has more of his circus stories to tell. hugh has selected our pages for his story. and there is o. henry, who is perhaps the emerson browne, who wrote. “daly, the purest type of short-story writer in america troubadour,” are closely allied to us. to-day. his work has been compared with there'll be lots of humor in the coming year. de maupassant's. but this is not fair-he gilman hall, associate editor. melure that mr. tarkington pendexter, with his ingenious sun, com v iva ver sum november our new serial, begun on page bor, is by booth tarking ton. that is guarantee of a story at once charming, subtle, and finely writ- ten. but"the guest of quesnay" is all that and more-actually a problem, a mystery, much entanglement, and the second birth and regeneration of an individual under conditions as curious as they are romantic. but don't dream it is another adventure story. this drama occurs amid still waters. a group of the most en- gnging and delightful cosmopolitans leisurely unravel its com- plexities. a love affair quite strange and beguiling is the woof of the web, and there emanates from it all something of that same delicacy and exquisiteness of feeling which made the fascination and the triumph of "monsieur beaucaire." cor . webiurk copyright, , by wm. balfour ker. the story of an american home. ii. the new home-alone at last! everybody's magaz ine jouse vol. xvii. november, . no. . making steel and killing men by william hard editor's note.—“the english idea with regard to blast-furnaces is to run mod- erately and save the lining. what do we care for the lining? we think that a lining is good for so much iron, and the sooner it makes it the better."— charles s. price, superintendent of the cambria steel works at johnstown, pa. forty-six men were killed in accidents last year in the south chicago plant of the united states steel corporation. there was no great casualty. the largest number killed at any one time was four. two other accidents accounted for two men apiece. all the rest were killed singly. during the course of the year, therefore, there were forty-one separate accidents that resulted in the destruction of the one valuable thing in the world, human life. - from records of chicago coroner's office. have we in america the same attitude toward human beings that we have toward the linings of blast-furnaces ? do we think that a man is good for so much iron and steel, and the quicker he makes it the better? must he then go to the graveyard just as the lining of the blast-furnace goes to the junk-heap? the south chicago plant of the united prisonment, like fleeting spirits, to the clear states steel corporation stretches along air above. but these things are mere modi- the shore of lake michigan for a distance of fications of the central theme, which is smoke, about two miles northward from the broad a mountain of smoke, or, rather, a cave of mouth of the calumet river. smoke. for the mountain is hollow, and in this plant, as you see it from the deck of a its interior ten thousand men are at work. yacht out in the lake, is just an opaque mass here, in the smoke on the north bank of the of smoke, thirty million dollars' worth of calumet, forty-six men performed their final smoke. you may descry, it is true, certain earthly act last year. here, at the edge of the dim outlines of multitudinous buildings, like plant, just inside the high white board fence, the faint surmises of a dream. you may be stands the company's private hospital, with diverted by the long rows of slender smoke- fifty beds, a chief surgeon, two assistant sur- stacks, rearing their heads through the smoke geons, an interne, and three nurses. here, in and standing shoulder to shoulder at rigid the inquests held in the undertakers' shops in attention as if they were about to salute. you the neighborhood of the plant, the united may be thrilled by the three thin, wavering states steel corporation, in the person of the tongues of flame that spurt up from the illinois steel company, was censured six throats of the bessemer converters and fight times last year by coroner's juries. here, at their way through the thick layers of their im- the time when ten men were injured in the copyright, , by the ridgway company. all rights reserved. teet general view of blast furnaces. the furnaces show ſaintly on the left. in the rounded structures is heated the air afterwarıls criven through the furnaces. pig-casting department, the building depart for every man killed, four were disabled ment of the city of chicago was forced to in- temporarily, which, in the german statistics, tervene and to admonish the company that “a means for at least thirteen weeks. little diligent thought and precaution on your if the law of averages is the same in chi- part would minimize the occurrence of such cago as it is in berlin (and there is no reason to accidents.” here the number of the dead, suppose that it isn't), the record of casualties who are reported to the coroner, furnishes the at the south chicago plant of the united only clue to the number of the merely burned states steel corporation would read as fol- crushed, maimed, and disabled, who are re- lows: ported to nobody. dead.. ............ ....... but let us make an estimate (and it will disabled temporarily (for at have to be a rough one, for there are no local least weeks)............ statistics) of the number of men burned and disabled permanently........ crushed and maimed and disabled in the plant of the illinois steel company last year, as total. ................. compared with the number of men actually killed. the record of the long battle in the cave of the best statistics on such subjects are smoke on the north bank of the calumet those of the german government, which, as it river for the year would therefore pre- has established a system of compulsory in- sent killed and wounded men to the con- surance, is in a position to know exactly what sideration of a public which would be ap- is happening in the manufacturing establish- palled by the news of the loss of an equal ments within its jurisdiction. number of men in a battle in the philippines. from these statistics (covering a period of and it should be remembered that the esti- twelve years) it appears that for every man mate here given does not include any of those killed in germany there were eight who suf- men who suffered injuries which disabled fered a permanent disability of either a partial them for a period of less than the thirteen or a total character. it further appears that weeks above mentioned. if such cases were a rail-mill in operation. the white streaks which show so vividly in the foreground are hot rails. included, the total number of casualties would exceptional proves nothing. but the plant in be enormously increased. minor accidents south chicago is just an american plant, are far more numerous than those of a serious conducted according to american ideals. its nature. the total number of all accidents, officials are men whom one is glad to meet major and minor, at the plant of the illinois and proud to know. and yet in the course of steel company would certainly be more than one year in their plant they had at least , twice as large as the number of major acci- accidents that resulted in the physical in- dents which we have already computed. jury, the physical agony, of human beings. if, therefore, men were involved last must we continue to pay this price for the year in major accidents, entailing, at the least, horor of leading the world in the cheap and a disability of thirteen weeks each, there must rapid production of steel and iron? must we have been at least , men who were in continue to be obliged to think of scorched volved in accidents of all kinds. doctors and scalded human beings whenever we sit on who have been employed in the hospital of the back platform of an observation-car and the illinois steel company place the number watch the steel rails rolling out behind us? even higher. they have said that there are is this price necessary, or could we strike a at least , accidents every year. but better bargain if we were shrewder and more many of these accidents extend only to the careful? painful scorching of a leg. if the figure be a partial answer to these questions will kept at , , it will be a conservative esti- suggest itself as we go along. we shall learn mate, including only those injuries that may something by leaving general statistics at this be legitimately regarded as being of material point and by descending to particular indi- consequence. vidual instances. when the american insti- here, then, is the record of one american tute of social service tells us that , industrial establishment for one year! it is not americans are killed or maimed every year in an establishment that enjoys any pre-emi- american industry, our minds are merely nence in heartlessness. if it were, there would stunned. but the specific case of ora allen, be no use in writing an article about it. the on the twelfth day of december, , has a ss casting-floor of a blast-furnace. the tapping-hole is under the big pipe in the center. the very white place on the floor is molten iron flowing from the tapping-hole across the casting-floor to the ladles. the interior of a plate-mill. the picture was taken by the company's photographer just after one of the plates had fallen on a man's foot. the pouring-floor or pit in the north open hearth mill. the furnaces are on the right. the pouring-stand is on the left. it was on this floor that ora allen lost his life. the traveling crane, operated by his brother, may be seen overhead. " hot tamales." massive steel ingots being transferred inside the yard by a dinky engine on a narrow.gauge track. everybody's magazine poignant thrust that goes through the stunned allen, up in the cage of his -ton electric mind to the previously untouched recesses of crane, was requested by a ladleman from be- the heart. low to pick up a pot and carry it to another ora allen is inquest , in the coroner's part of the floor. this pot was filled with the office in the criminal court building down- hot slag that is the refuse left over when the town. on the twelfth of last december he' pure steel has been run off. was a ladleman in the north open hearth newton allen let down the hooks of his mill of the illinois steel company, twelve crane. the ladleman attached those hooks miles from down-town, in south chicago. to the pot. newton allen started down the on the fifteenth he was a corpse in the floor. just as he started, one of the hooks company's private hospital. on the seven- slipped. there was no shock or jar. newton teenth his remains were viewed by six good allen was warned of danger only by the fumes and lawful men at griesel & son's undertak- that rose toward him. he at once reversed ing shop at , commercial avenue. his lever, and, when his crane had carried the first witness, newton allen, told the him to a place of safety, descended and hur- gist of the story. ried back to the scene of the accident. he on the twelfth of last december newton saw a man lying on his face. he heard him allen was operating overhead crane no. in screaming. he saw that he was being roasted the north open by the slag that had hearth mill of the illi- poured out of the pot. nois steel company. he ran up to him and seated aloft in the turned him over. cage of his crane, he · “at that time,” said dropped his chains and newton allen, in his hooks to the men be- testimony before the neath and carried pots jury, “i did not know and ladles up and it was my brother. it down the length of the was not till i turned pouring-floor. him over that i recog- that floor was , nized him. then i saw feet long, and it looked it was my brother ora. longer because of the i asked him if he was dim murkiness of the burned bad. he said, air. it was edged, all 'no, not to be afraid along one side, by a -hewas not burned as row of open-hearth fur- bad as i thought.'” naces, fourteen of three days later ora them, and in each one allen died in the hospi- there were sixty-four tal of the illinois steel tons of white, boiling a blast-furnace. company. he had told iron, boiling into steel. his brother he wasn't from these furnaces “burned bad,” but ira the white-hot metal, miltimore, the doctor now steel, was withdrawn and poured into big who attended him, testified that his death ten-ton molds, standing on flat-cars. when was due to a “third-degree burn of the face, the molds were removed, the steel stood up by neck, arms, forearms, hands, back, right leg, itself on the cars in the shape of ingots. these right thigh, and left foot.” a third degree ingots, these obelisks of steel, cooled to solid burn is the last degree there is. there is no ity on their outsides but still soft and liquid fourth degree. within, were hauled away by locomotives to but why did the hook on that slag-pot slip? other parts of the plant. because it was attached merely to the rim of it was a scene in which a human being looks the pot, and not to the lugs. that pot had no smaller than perhaps anywhere else in the lugs. it ought to have had them. lugs are world. you must understand that fact in pieces of metal that project from the rim of the order to comprehend the psychological aspect pot, like ears. they are put there for the ex- of accidents in steel-mills. press purpose of providing a proper and secure on the twelfth of last december, newton hold for the hooks. but they had been broken this photograph was taken just after an explosion that killed five men. making steel and killing men off in some previous accident and they had utterance to the whole philosophy of ameri- not been replaced. on the twelfth of last de- can business life. he said: cember the ladleman had been obliged to use “we guess that when a trestle's built it the mere rim, or flange, of the pot, and with ought to last forever. and sometimes we that precarious attachment the pot had been guess ourselves into the depot. and some- hoisted and carried. times we guess ourselves into hell.” "is it dangerous to carry a pot by its the company will tell you, very straight- flange?" asked the deputy coroner. forwardly and very honestly, that it is impos- "it is,” said newton allen, “but it is the sible to prevent the men from being reckless, duty of the ladleman to put the hooks on the that it is beyond human power to prevent pot. i work on signal from him.” the men from hooking up slag-pots by their mike skiba, the ladleman, being sum- flanges. the men get in a hurry and they moned, testified that he had attached the become careless. hooks to the pot by the flange, but that he there is a good deal of truth in this obser- had no orders against attaching them in that vation, as i shall show later. the men do get way. careless and, under our outdated but unre- john pfister, the boss ladleman, mike pealed laws, the carelessness of a ladleman, skiba's superior, said, on oath: “i have no resulting in the death of a fellow ladleman, orders not to raise the slag-pots when the lugs will relieve the company from all money lia- are broken off.” bility for that ladleman's death. it is impos- george l. danforth, the superintendent of sible that men in steel-mills should not grow the north open hearth mill, an expensive careless. it is part of the inevitable psycho- man, who might himself have been killed on logical consequence of working next to a the occasion in question, because his duties three-mouthed monster with sixty-four tons of oblige him to frequent all parts of the mill, boiling metal in its insides. but suppose, just testified that “pots had been raised in the suppose, that instead of being relieved from manner described for three or four years and all money liability by the carelessness of a that this was the first time that one of them ladleman toward a fellow ladleman, suppose, had fallen." just suppose that the company had to pay a what did the jury think? it thought as flat fine of $ , every time a ladleman was follows: killed. do you think that any slag-pot would “we, the jury, believe that slag-pots should ever be raised by its flange? not be handled without their lugs, and we that is the real question. and the answer recommend that the lugs be replaced before is, no. the united states steel corporation the pots are used in the future.” has too much ability, it has done too many so came to an end the case of ora allen, wonderful, too many almost impossible things, burned to death by the slag from a pot that to fail in such a project of prevention. but was being hoisted by his brother. was it a the cold fact is that there is no adequate necessary tragedy? was all that agony, all incentive to the prevention of carelessness the horror that filled the soul of ora allen's among employees. there is a perfectly ade- brother when he turned him over and recog- quate incentive to the prevention of laziness. nized him, was all that wait of three days for the lazy employee is discharged. let society death in the hospital, a necessary incident in once provide the capable intellect of the the production of steel? the coroner's jury united states steel corporation with a suffi- evidently did not think so, although such a cient reason for preventing carelessness, and it jury is notably reluctant to utter a censure. will be the one best bet of the age that there as i read the testimony and afterwards will be no more carelessness in any of the looked at that gigantic, that deafening and united states steel corporation plants. hypnotizing north open hearth mill, my t he forty-six men who were killed last year mind was carried back to the american loco- in the south chicago plant of the united motive engineer who astonished mr. kipling states steel corporation went to their deaths when he was on his first visit to this country. by a large number of different and divergent the train was just starting across a trestle routes. twelve of them were killed in the that looked as if it were ready to crumble neighborhood of blast-furnaces. one of away, on the slightest provocation, into the them was hurled out of life by a stick of mountain torrent beneath. mr. kipling re- dynamite. three of them were electrocuted. monstrated, and the engineer, in reply, gave three of them were killed by falls from high everybody's magazine places. four of them were struck on their but who fortunately recovered. he described heads by falling objects. four of them were his accident succinctly as follows: burned to death by hot metal in the bessemer “no choo choo! no ling ling! no god converter department, where, as in the open damn you get out of the way! just run hearth department, iron is transformed into over!” steel. three of them were crushed to death. one of them was suffocated by the gas from a the only death-dealing force that ex: gas-producer. one of them was thrown from ceeded the railroad last year in the illinois an ore-bridge by a high wind. one of them steel company plant was the blast-furnace. was hit by a red-hot rail. one of them, ora there are eleven blast-furnaces in the plant. allen, was scorched to death by slag. and each of them is a fire-brick and cast-iron ten of them were killed by railroad cars or giant a hundred and fifty feet high and con- by railroad locomotives. taining from six hundred to a thousand tons this last fact seems most extraordinary, of tumultuous material. when you feed it at most inexplicable, until an inspection of the its top with coke, limestone, and iron ore, you plant is made. there are about one hundred cannot tell exactly what is happening inside and thirty miles of track in that plant, broad- it, until, from the tapping-hole at its base, you gauge track, narrow-gauge track, stretching withdraw the pure iron and the refuse that across open spaces, wiggling between dead is called slag. its digestive tract is too long walls, swerving around corners, darting and too well concealed. a blast-furnace is through buildings, running in twenties, run- like a human being. when it is in trouble ning in couples, climbing up to the mouths of you have to make a diagnostic guess from the the bessemer converters, descending to the outside. level of the lake shore, creeping across the on the ninth of last october, at about ten calumet down and away to indiana. o'clock in the evening, walter stelmaszyk, a and there are cars, cars carrying coke, cars sample-boy, went to one of the blast-furnaces carrying limestone, cars carrying ladles of to get a sample of iron to take to the labora- liquid iron, cars carrying pots of hot slag, cars tory. he stood at one of the entrances to the carrying ingots of red steel. platform. the bright, liquid iron was run- and there are locomotives, all kinds of ning out of its tapping-hole and flowing in a locomotives, all the way from the through sparkling, snarling stream along its sandy bed freight locomotive that can haul eighty cars of to the big twenty-ton ladle that stood beside coke to the little “dinky” locomotive that the platform on a flat-car. walter stelmaszyk looks like a toy and that hauls the steel ingots stood still for a moment and gazed at this from the bessemer and open hearth depart- scene. it was well for him that he hesitated. ments to the rail-mill, the slabbing-mill, the suddenly there came a flash, a roar, and a blooming-mill, the billet-mill, and the struc- drizzle of molten metal. milak lazich, an- tural-shape mill. drew vrkic, anton pietszak, and louis fuer- . at the south end of the plant there is a high lant lay charred and dead on the casting- bridge that spans a series of switching-tracks. floor. elsewhere the men go across at grade. what was the cause of the accident? there are danger signs, but it is useless to the expert witnesses, employed around the expect a slovenian who has worked all day blast-furnace, all agreed that the hot metal in the heat and glare and stress of a blast- had come in contact with water. furnace to pay much attention to a danger and how did it come in contact with water? sign, especially if he doesn't know how to here, again, the expert witnesses were in read, which he usually doesn't. there will agreement. be more bridges and a few subways in the about two months before the accident, the south chicago plant of the united states keeper of the furnace had called the attention steel corporation before that corporation is of the foreman to a little trickling of water many years older. as things stand to-day, around the tapping-hole. an examination the men have come to expect the danger signs was made and it was found that some of the to be supplemented by the puffing and clang- fire-brick at one side of the tapping-hole had ing of the locomotive and by the cries of the fallen out. the foreman reported this fact engineer. to his immediate superior. but the fire-brick this point of view was admirably illus- was not replaced. patches of fire-clay were trated by a man who was injured not long ago substituted for it. these patches were re- making steel and killing men newed from time to time. they wore out nace was evidently in a dangerous condition. very rapidly. after the accident it was apparently in a still on the night of the ninth of october, ac- more dangerous condition! cording to all the experts at the trial, the how can the illinois manufacturers' asso- fierce molten iron ate its way through the ciation think, when such evidence, given un- fire-clay and came in contact with a water- der oath, is public property, that the state of coil. the union of the hot iron with the illinois or the united states of america will water resulted in the explosion and in the continue to regard the killing and maiming of sacrifice of four human lives. employees as an entirely private matter be- it is true that no similar accident had ever tween those employees and the company in before happened. the company did not whose service they were slaughtered or in- mean to kill those men. i am making no jured? all sentiments of humanity offer an such foolish charge. but, as in the case of invulnerable negative to that proposition. ora allen, i ask the question whether or not and so also, as i shall show later, do all con- the company would exercise a stricter sur- siderations of enlightened selfishness. veillance over the recklessness of its foremen the total number of men killed last year by and workingmen if it had a stronger pecu- blast-furnaces in the plant of the illinois steel niary incentive. in other words, if the com- company was twelve. not all of these men pany were offered a prize were burned to death. of a million dollars for some were struck by fly- getting through a year notice ing objects and some were without one single fatal asphyxiated by the gas accident, would it then this building contains danger. which constantly escapes allow patches of fire-clay ous electrical apparatus. from the pores of a blast- to be used as a substitute all persons not especially author. furnace and which can izod to work on the apparatus are for fire-brick around the hereby prohibited from entering. sometimes be seen, burn- tapping-hole of any fur- failure to comply ing with a ghastly blue nace in its plant? would may result in death. flame, along the crevices it not find a way to pre- between the bricks. vent such makeshift nebezpeČno: i am perfectly willing methods effectually and ne choc dnuka bo tam nebez. pecno, moze tia ubiti elektricka to admit that it is ex- finally? ceedingly difficult to pre- when the accident had veszedelmes: vent all exhibitions of happened, the water in recklessness even in cases the coil just next to the szelyes. ne nyulyon hozza, mert in which the company roktoni halalt okozhat. place where the fire-clay has provided certain had been eaten away and opazno: measures of precaution. where the explosion had ovdje se nalazi opazna elek. this is intended to be a tricka masina (stroj) nemojte originated was shut off. ici u nutra, moze da vas ubije. fair article. it would do the man who shut it off niebiespeczynstwo: no permanent good un- was a pipe-fitter, g. h. less it were fair. and hunter. jest niebespeczna maszyna. ktora was mozse zabic namiestu. recklessness is certainly a “in your opinion,” said psychological characteris- the deputy coroner, , a polyglot warning displayed in the tic of men in steel-plants. “would it have been safe illinois steel company's plant. all tradition teaches them to run the furnace before to be reckless. the very this accident with the water a little bit further example of their superiors teaches them to be away from the tapping-hole?” reckless. the assistant superintendent of the “no, sir.” plant that the illinois steel company main- “is the furnace running that way now?" tains at joliet stepped on an unprotected gear “yes, sir.” and lost his leg just after he had warned his “is it safe now?" men not to be guilty of any such culpable “no, sir, not as safe as it was when the negligence of their own safety. i am willing water was running.” to admit the existence of culpable negligence and it was while the water was running altogether apart from the negligence of the that the accident happened and that the four company. and not only that, but i am also men were killed. before the accident the fur- willing to give a specific illustration. masina. ez a villanyos gepezet ve. nie chodzie do srodka, botam n - - - everybody's magazine i was standing one day on the platform of a blast-furnace. all at once, unexpectedly, i heard the four whistles that indicate danger. there was a “hang” in the furnace. the whirling, eddying mass of ore, coke, and lime- stone in the high interior of that furnace had got caught somewhere, somehow, and was refusing to come down. when it did come down, there would be a crash, and, perhaps, an explosion. i ran and got behind a brick pillar. on coming into the plant that morning i had signed a piece of paper, just the same kind of piece of paper that every visitor signs, saying that i would not hold the illinois steel com- pany responsible for anything that might happen to me. i reflected that nobody would profit by my demise. but observe what the other men around that blast-furnace did! i could see them as i peered out from be- hind my brick pillar. those of them who were already in front of the furnace looked up at it with an expression of profound curiosity on their faces two other men who had been standing at the back of the furnace ran all the way around it and came out in front! there they all stood, hurling their mute interroga- tories at the crafty, reticent volcano that might nevertheless the next moment hurl forth an indignant answer at their heads! in a steel-mill there is still another element besides recklessness to be considered. it is this: most steel-men have come up from the ranks. they have themselves risked their lives. they have become hardened to scenes that chill the blood of the fresh observer. most steel-men in the united states to-day (and i am talking of steel-men, not financiers) have themselves leaped those flaming streams of angry metal, have themselves dodged the red-hot, writhing steel snakes that hiss through the big cast-iron rolls of the rail-mill on their way to the straightening-beds, have themselves fallen dizzy to the ground with the gaseous breath of the blast-furnace stoves in their lungs. steel is war. when it is finished it brings forth, for the victors, skibo castles and peace conferences. but while it is in process it is war. the superintendent of the south chicago plant of the united states steel corporation is a young man named field, william a. field. i investigated his career. when he came to the south chicago plant from kentucky via stevens institute, his first day's work lasted twenty-four hours. when he had worked twelve hours, his foreman said to him: “run home now and get a bite to eat and be back here as soon as you can." he came back and worked twelve hours longer. to-day they have a fiendish institution at the south chicago plant called the twenty- four-hour shift. eighteen hundred men in that plant work for twenty-four hours without stopping, on every alternate sunday. they begin on sunday morning and work through without a pause till monday morning at seven o'clock. in order to keep awake, some of the men cultivate a keen intellectual inter- est in the mechanical processes about them. others swallow chewing tobacco. it is a frightful stretch of time. but william a. field not only worked that twenty-four-hour shift on his own account when he was scull- ing ladles (which means cleaning the slag out of them) but, even after being promoted from that menial employment, he has worked seventy-two hours at a stretch without sleep- ing, and has worked one hundred and sixty- eight hours without any other kind of sleep than that which can be gathered from a hard chair in a dark corner. what is the use of talking to a man like that about the severity of a twenty-four-hour shift? when two sheets in the steam-pipe in the pump-room of the rail-mill were blown out and three men and a boy were killed, field worked from sunday evening to wednes- day evening without ever closing his eyes. and then he spent the rest of wednesday evening at the opera. and when the rail-mill at joliet was frozen up by a cold winter, field stayed in the mill a whole week, with a chair for a bed, and kept that mill from complete stagnation at the cost of seven nights' sleep and also at the cost, in all probability, of three or four years of his life. on one occasion field was knocked twenty feet by a stray crowbar and experienced some difficulty in recovering. on another occa- sion the top of his hat was shaved neatly off by a hot rail which just missed shaving off his scalp. on still another occasion he walked off a dock into the calumet river and was pulled out just in time. i admire such a man. there is no man i admire more. but i deny that he constitutes a good judge of ordinary human safety for ordinary human beings. he is an exceptional man who enjoys an exceptional reward. he therefore risks his life and becomes superin- making steel and killing men tendent. the ordinary man risks his life and made in the construction of the plant for the does not become superintendent. it is for purpose of preventing future accidents. the him that measures of safety are demanded. motive in this case is, i fully believe, disin- his only possible reward is a continuance of terested. the present laws of illinois on the the life that god has given him. subject of industrial accidents furnish no nevertheless, if you want to understand the other adequate motive. and, on the basis of psychology of a man like field, just stand in the recommendations of its safety depart- front of the three converters in the bessemer ment, the illinois steel company made three department. there they swing and sway thousand changes last year in the construction and tip, shaped like the enormous, mythical of its plant. this fact is an eloquent com- eggs attributed to that strange and never-yet- mentary not only on the present awakenment discovered bird called the roc by the oriental of the company but also on the previous con- authors of the “arabian nights.” it is only dition of the plant. the roc that could have laid such eggs. they the operating men who manage the illinois contain fifteen tons apiece. they receive steel company are human beings. they do iron. they produce steel. the metal with not wish to commit either murder or suicide. in them, tossed by currents of compressed but steel is war. and it is also dividends. air, boils and bubbles. when they tip over all the operating men in south chicago, from to discharge their burdens into the ladles be- william a. field down to the lowest “huniak" neath, they fill the whole building with flut- who now sculls the ladles that mr. field tering sparks and thick, whirling fumes which used to scull, are bound, hand and foot, by the vary in color from light gray to deep orange. desire to produce more steel this month than the clothes of the men in this department are was ever before produced in south chicago. filled with fine holes burned in them by the the figures that indicate production and sparks. when the ladles are filled, the boil- profits are the only figures handled and ing metal exudes queer little tender blue scrutinized by the members of the board of flames all over its white surface. the men directors of the united states steel corpo- call this weird display “the devil's flower- ration. steel is war. and it is a war in which garden.” with less apparent poetry they the commanding officers as well as the privates have nicknamed the steel ingots in which the are exposed to the immediate fire of the enemy. metal finally leaves the bessemer department the greatest steel-man that america ever on flat-cars, calling them “hot tamales.” produced, bill jones, was killed by a blast- i make all due allowance for the diabolical furnace. at the time of his death he was draw- hypnotism exercised over the men in a steel- ing a salary equal to that of the president of mill, from highest to lowest, by the over- the united states. he went from this world to whelming majesty of the instruments with the world beyond in company with a dollar-a- which they work. and for that very reason day hungarian laborer. bill jones was the i believe in the intervention of the public au- man who put the united states ahead of thorities, and in the supervision that is ex- great britain in the rapid and economical ercised over industrial establishments in many production of iron and steel. and if bill of the countries of europe by public officials jones was killed by a blast-furnace, why not who have not been hypnotized by daily inter- steve bragosimshamski? course with bessemer converters. that is the spirit of the war of steel. and at the same time i wish to give all due it is not surprising, therefore, that on the credit to the present management of the illi- sixth of february, this year, the building de- nois steel company. it has shaken itself partment of the city of chicago, being a de- almost awake from the hypnotism of the partment of peace, was forced to intervene in bessemer converters. it has devoted itself, the aftermath of an accident in the pig-casting so far as its lights extend, to the reforma department of the illinois steel company. tion of its plant. it has established a safety ten or twelve men had been injured. a department. this department is partly thirty-ton ladle had tipped all the way over selfish, partly philanthropic. it has photog- and had wrecked the roof and sides of the raphers who take a picture of every accident, building, besides subjecting the ten or twelve just as soon as it has happened, for the pur- men above mentioned to considerable bodily pose of furnishing evidence in the courts if the discomfort. relatives of the deceased should sue for dam- during the previous year the company had ages. but it also suggests changes to be made those three thousand changes in its everybody's magazine plant. but it hadn't been able to make that for these things society pays. for poverty, pig-casting department safe. building com- demoralization, vice, and crime, the price is missioner bartzen suggested that the thirty- laid down by society either through the gen- ton ladles of hot iron should be anchored to erosity of private individuals or through the the columns of the building in order to pre- expensive and cumbrous action of public vent them from tipping over. the company officials. apparently had not thought of that. accord- nothing is gained without its price. if it ing to the public records of the building is cheap to kill steve bragosimshamski, it is department in the city hall in chicago, the expensive to support his wife and family. illinois steel company accepted almost every and since society, in the long run, supports suggestion made to it by the building departs that wife and that family, it is inevitable that ment during the régime of building com- society shall seek to understand and to pre- missioner bartzen. but it did not divine vent the industrial accidents which encumber those suggestions on its own account before it with such burdens. they were made. there are two remedies, therefore, that i do not blame the illinois steel company will certainly be applied to situations of the for failing to divine those suggestions. a kind that we have been studying. company whose nose is close up against a the first is complete publicity, including a thirty-ton ladle of molten iron has an almost report to the public authorities on every acci- sufficient excuse. but it is for that very rea- dent, fatal or non-fatal. and the second is son, as i have previously indicated, that i here the granting of power to the public authori- make an argument for public supervision. ties to supervise all machinery in all industrial this argument is based only in part on con- establishments and to suggest and enforce siderations of humanity. for practical pur- such changes, within specified limits, as shall poses it rests on solid motives of self-interest. seem necessary. there is not a single accident that happens a law embodying the first of these reme- to a laborer in the plant of the illinois steel dies was passed through the illinois state leg- company or in any other industrial plant islature this year in the teeth of violent oppo- without tending, directly or indirectly, to sition. if it is enforced, it will do a world of loosen the strings of the public purse. good. a full public report on every indus- what happens to steve bragosimshamski's trial accident happening in the state of illinois widow? what happens to his orphans, will inform the people as to the character and twelve years, ten years, eight years, six years, proportions of one of the greatest modern four years, two years, six months old? they sources of pauperism, vice, and crime; it will do not evaporate. they do not comfortably stimulate the public demand for the disappear. regulation of all dangerous machinery; it will in eight cases out of ten, as i am prepared cxcite the manufacturers to greater careful- to prove by competent authority, the death ness; and, above all, it will remove that veil of of a steve bragosimshamski throws no legal secrecy and mystery behind which the great money-liability on the company. what do manufacturing corporations now operate and the widow and the orphans do? through which the public eye discerns all the ask the south chicago charitable associa- faults of those corporations with indistinct- tion. ask the south chicago women's be- ness, suspicion, exaggeration, and hatred. nevolent association. ask the catholic aid when there is complete publicity with regard association. ask the authorities at glen- to all accidents, the manufacturing corpora- wood, at feehanville, at the st. charles home tions will be more popular than they are to- for boys. ask the superintendent of the hud- day. one of the strongest fostering causes of leston home for boys at ewing. ask the pro- class antagonism will have been eliminated. bation officers of the juvenile court. ask the i can give an apposite illustration of what i county agent who distributes coal in winter- mean. time. ask the police officers of the fifteenth it is commonly believed in chicago (and i precinct station just off commercial avenue. have heard it given as a plain fact by scores ask the officials of the county poorhouse at of citizens) that the illinois steel company dunning. ask the women who keep the conceals a large number of the deaths that houses of ill fame which line the street that happen in its plant and that it buries its vic- runs along beside the high white fence of the tims secretly in mounds of slag. it is also re- company's plant south of eighty-ninth street. ported that in the illinois steel company hos- making steel and killing men pital the patients are barbarously treated, and that while still in the delirium of pain they are forced to sign legal documents releasing the company from all legal money-liability for the accidents in which they were injured these stories are currently reported and im- plicitly credited. and they are absolutely un- true. the company does not, and cannot if it would, conceal any death in its plant. its hospital is excellently appointed and superbly managed, and the chief surgeon, dr. burry, is a man of the highest professional standing and of the most sensitive self-respect. and there is no proof of any kind that mr. haynie, the lawyer in charge of the company's dam- age suits, has ever countenanced any extorting of releases from delirious or infirm patients. but i had to disprove these stories by my own efforts. i should never have been obliged to go to that trouble, and the com- pany would never have been suspected of any such abominable practises, if there had always been complete publicity for all industrial acci- dents in all the manufactories of illinois. the second remedy i have suggested (namely, public supervision of dangerous machinery) was defeated in the last legislature by the illinois manufacturers' association after a long fight in which the representatives of the illinois steel company bore a conspicu- ous part. it was a selfish, short-sighted, in- human fight. the manufacturers claimed to be in favor of the spirit of the bill but alleged that it was unreasonable. nevertheless they did not exert themselves to suggest amend ments that would have removed its unrea- sonable features. they simply fought it. and they defeated it. in doing so they pre- pared a day of judgment for themselves. by their actions, if not by their words, they have taken the position that the public is not con- cerned with what happens in their plants. i have shown that the public is vitally con- cerned. and when such facts as i have pre- sented in this article, without exaggeration and without malice, are completely under stood, some even more severe bill than that which the illinois manufacturers' associa- tion defeated at the last session of the legisla- ture will be enacted into law and will place all dangerous machinery in all manufacturing establishments under the inspection and su- pervision of public experts. lection of south chicago will be the under- takers. they made a kind of raid last year on the illinois steel company plant in order to get the trade that comes with the inquests that are held on the corpses from the illinois steel company hospital. every corpse goes to the nearest under- taker unless the relatives intervene. in con- sequence of this custom it is extremely de- sirable to have a location near the company's big gate. hence the raid. first mr. finerty, from ninety-second street, moved down to . that move gave him precedence. but it did not last long. mrs. murphy abandoned her original loca- tion, moved along the street and settled down between mr. finerty and the mills. so far, so good. mrs. murphy was ahead of the game. but then came mr. adams, all the way from the outside of south chicago, and swooped down on the corner of mackinaw and eighty-ninth. he is the final winner. he is closer to the plant to-day than either mr. finerty or mrs. murphy. this comic interlude in the grim tragedy of south chicago remains firmly fixed in the memory of the spectator, like the antics of the grave-digger in hamlet. more essential in- cidents, more important facts, may fade away and disappear. but when you leave the cave of smoke on the north bank of the calumet river; when you gaze at all that abomination of desolation in the foreign quarter of south chicago, where no steel magnate, even though blessing a multitude of distant prairie towns with libraries, has ever left a single discernible trace of benevolence for the people who actu- ally make the steel that pays for the libraries; when you send your mind back over the won- derful, gigantic machinery, the superhuman processes, hidden in the cave of smoke behind you; why, even then, even while all these things are pressing upon your attention, they suddenly slip away from you, and as you take your seat in the train the last image that is presented to you is the race of those under- takers on toward the great gate of the plant. you see them coming closer and closer. you see them settling down and waiting. and then you see the dead bodies coming out from the plant and being carried into the back rooms and being lawfully viewed and having true presentment made as to how and in what manner and by whom or what they came to be what they are now. is the public concerned? if it says it is, then it is. the only persons who would ultimately suffer by the enactment of such a law would possibly be the undertakers. my last recol- "i riscued him from a heap of soft coal below." phebe by o. henry author of "the four million," "the trimmed lamp," etc. illustrations by h. raleigh vou are a man of nany novel adven- like any other well-dressed man of thirty- i tures and dubious enterprises,” i said five whom you might meet, except that he was to captain patricio maloné. “do you be- hopelessly weather-tanned, and wore on his lieve that the possible element of good luck chain an ancient ivory-and-gold peruvian or bad luck-if there is such a thing as luck charm against evil, which has nothing at all -has influenced your career or persisted for to do with his story. or against you to such an extent that you "mv answer to your question," said the were forced to attribute results to the opera- captain, smiling, “will be to tell you the story tion of the aforesaid good luck or bad luck?" of bad luck kearny. that is, if you don't this question (of almost the dull insolence mind hearing it." of legal phraseology) was put while we sat in my reply was to pound on the table for rousselin's little red-tiled café near congo rousselin. square in new orleans. brown-faced, white-hatted, finger-ringed “strolling along tchoupitoulas street one captains of adventure came often to rousse- night,” began captain maloné, “i noticed, lin's for the cognac. they came from sea without especially taxing my interest, a small and land, and were chary of relating the things man walking rapidly toward me. he stepped they had seen—not because they were more upon a wooden cellar door, crashed through wonderful than the fantasies of the ananiases it, and disappeared. i rescued him from a of print, but because they were so different. heap of soft coal below. he dusted himself and i was a perpetual wedding-guest, always briskly, swearing fluently in a mechanical striving to cast my buttonhole over the finger tone, as an underpaid actor recites the gipsy's of one of these mariners of fortune. this curse. gratitude and the dust in his throat captain malone was a hiberno-iberian seemed to call for fluids to clear them away. creole who had gone to and fro in the earth his desire for liquidation was expressed so and walked up and down in it. ile looked heartily that i went with him to a café down phoebe the street where we had some vile vermouth uprisings in those little tropic republics. and bitters. they make but a faint clamor against the “looking across that little table i had my din of great nations' battles; but down there, first clear sight of francis kearny. he was under all the ridiculous uniforms and petty about five feet seven, but as tough as a cypress diplomacy and senseless countermarching knee. his hair was darkest red, his mouth and intrigue, are to be found statesmen and such a mere slit that you wondered how the patriots. don rafael valdevia was one. his flood of his words came rushing from it. his great ambition was to raise esperando into eyes were the brightest and lightest blue and peace and honest prosperity and the respect the hopefulest that i ever saw. he gave the of the serious nations. so he waited for double impression that he was at bay and my rifles in aguas frias. but one would that you had better not crowd him farther. think i am trying to win a recruit in you! no; “just in from a gold-hunting expedition it was francis kearny i wanted. and so i on the coast of costa rica,' he explained. told him, speaking long over our execrable 'second mate of a banana steamer told me vermouth, breathing the stifling odor from the natives were panning out enough from the garlic and tarpaulins, which, as you know, is beach sands to buy all the rum, red calico, the distinctive flavor of cafés in the lower slant and parlor melodeons in the world. the of our city. i spoke of the tyrant president day i got there a syndicate named incorpo- cruz and the burdens that his greed and in- rated jones gets a government concession to all solent cruelty laid upon the people. and at minerals from a given point. for a next that kearny's tears flowed. and then i dried choice i take coast fever and count green them with a picture of the fat rewards that and blue lizards for six weeks in a grass hut. would be ours when the oppressor should be i had to be notified when i was well, for the overthrown and the wise and generous val- reptiles were actually there. then i shipped devia in his seat. then kearny leaped to his back as third cook on a norwegian tramp feet and wrung my hand with the strength of that blew up her boiler two miles below a roustabout. he was mine, he said, till the quarantine. i was due to bust through that last minion of the hated despot was hurled cellar door here to-night, so i hurried the from the highest peaks of the cordilleras into rest of the way up the river, roustabouting the sea. on a lower coast packet that made a landing “i paid the score and we went out. near for every fisherman that wanted a plug of the door kearny's elbow overturned an up- tobacco. and now i'm here for what comes right glass showcase, smashing it into little next. and it'll be along, it'll be along,' said bits. i paid the storekeeper the price he asked. this queer mr. kearny; 'it'll be along on the "come to my hotel for the night,' i said beams of my bright but not very particular to kearny. “we sail to-morrow at noon.' star.' “he agreed; but on the sidewalk he fell to "from the first the personality of kearny cursing again in the dull, monotonous, glib charmed me. i saw in him the bold heart, way that he had done when i pulled him out the restless nature, and the valiant front of the coal cellar. against the buffets of fate that make his "captain,' said he, 'before we go any countrymen such valuable comrades in risk further, it's no more than fair to tell you that and adventure. and just then i was wanting i'm known from baffin's bay to terra del such men. moored at a fruit company's fuego as “bad-luck” kearny. and i'm pier i had a -ton steamer ready to sail the it. everything i get into goes up in the air next day with a cargo of sugar, lumber, and except a balloon. every bet i ever made i corrugated iron for a port in—well, let us call lost except when i coppered it. every boat the country esperando—it has not been long i ever sailed on sank except the submarines. ago, and the name of patricio malone is still everything i was ever interested in went to spoken there when its unsettled politics are pieces except a patent bombshell that i in- discussed. beneath the sugar and iron were vented. everything i ever took hold of and packed a thousand winchester rifles. in tried to run i ran into the ground except when aguas frias, the capital, don rafael val- i tried to plow. and that's why they call me devia, minister of war, esperando's great- bad luck kearny. i thought i'd tell you.' est-hearted and most able patriot, awaited “bad luck,' said i, ‘or what goes by the my coming. no doubt you have heard, name, may now and then tangle the affairs with a smile, of the insignificant wars and of any man. but if it persist beyond the everybody's magazine estimate of what we may call the "averages sparklers to help hand it out. they're cir- there must be a cause for it.' culating and revolving and hanging around “there is,' said kearny emphatically, the main supply all the time, each one throw- ‘and when we walk another square i will ing the hoodoo on his own particular district. show it to you.' “you see that ugly little red star about “surprised, i kept by his side until we eight inches above and to the right of saturn?' came to canal street and out into the middle kearny asked me. “well, that's her. that's of its great width. phæbe. she's got me in charge. "by the “kearny seized me by an arm and pointed day of your birth,” says azrath to me, "your a tragic forefinger at a rather brilliant star life is subjected to the influence of saturn. that shone steadily about thirty degrees above by the hour and minute of it you must dwell the horizon. under the sway and direct authority of phæbe. “that's saturn,' said he, 'the star that the ninth satellite.” so said this azrath.' presides over bad luck and evil and disap- kearny shook his fist viciously skyward. pointment and nothing-doing and trouble. “curse her, she's done her work well,' said i was born under that star. every move i he. 'ever since i was astrologized, bad make, up bobs saturn and blocks it. he's luck has followed me like my shadow, as i the hoodoo planet of the heavens. they say told you. and for many years before. now, he's , miles in diameter and no solider captain, i've told you my handicap as a man of body than split-pea soup, and he's got as should. if you're afraid this evil star of mine many disreputable and malignant rings as might cripple your scheme, leave me out of it.' chicago. now, what kind of a star is that to “i reassured kearny as well as i could. i be born under?' told him that for the time we would banish "i asked kearny where he had obtained all both astrology and astronomy from our heads. this astonishing knowledge. the manifest valor and enthusiasm of the man “from azrath, the great astrologer of drew me. 'let us see what a little courage cleveland, ohio,' said he. “that man and diligence will do against bad luck,' i looked at a glass ball and told me my name said. “we will sail to-morrow for espe- before i'd taken a chair. he prophesied the rando.' date of my birth and death before i'd said a “fifty miles down the mississippi our word. and then he cast my horoscope, and steamer broke her rudder. we sent for a the sidereal system socked me in the solar tug to tow us back and lost three days. when plexus. it was bad luck for francis kearny we struck the blue waters of the gulf, all the from a to izard and for storm clouds of the at- his friends that were lantic seemed to have implicated with him. concentrated above us. for that i gave up ten we thought surely to dollars. this azrath sweeten those leaping was sorry, but he re- waves with our sugar, spected his profession and to stack our arms too much to read the and lumber on the heavens wrong for any floor of the mexican man. it was night- gulf. time, and he took me “kearny did not out on a balcony and seek to cast off one iota gave me a free view of the burden of our of the sky. and he danger from the shoul- showed me which sat- ders of his fatal horo- urn was, and how to scope. he weathered find it in different bal- every storm on deck, conies and longitudes. smoking a black pipe, “but saturn wasn't to keep which alight all. he was only the rain and sea-water man higher up. he seemed but as oil. and furnishes so much bad he shook his fist at the luck that they allow black clouds behind "kearny pointed a tragic forefinger at him a gang of deputy which his baleful star a rather brilliant star." phobe winked its unseen eye. when the skies cleared told myself that although he might be a man one evening, he reviled his malignant guardian to shun, he was also one to be admired. with grim humor. “i gave orders to the sailing-master that the “on watch, aren't you, you red-headed arms, ammunition, and provisions were to be vixen? out making it hot for little francis landed at once. that was easy in the kearny and his friends, according to hoyle. steamer's boats, except for the two gatling twinkle, twinkle, little devil! you're a lady, guns. for their transportation ashore we aren't you?-dogging a man with bad luck carried a stout flatboat, brought for the pur- just because he happened to be born while pose in the steamer's hold. your boss was foorwalker. get busy and "in the meantime i walked with carlos to sink the ship, you one-eyed banshee. phoebe! the camp and made the soldiers a little speech h’m! sounds as mild as a milkmaid. you in spanish, which they received with enthusi- can't judge a woman by her name. why asm; and then i had some wine and a cigar- couldn't i have had a man star? i can't ette in carlos's tent. later we walked back make the remarks to phoebe that i could to a to the river to see how the unloading was man. oh, phæbe, you be-blasted! being conducted. “for eight days gales and squalls and “the small arms and provisions were waterspouts beat us from our course. five already ashore, and the petty officers had days only should have landed us in espe- squads of men conveying them to camp. rando. our jonah swallowed the bad credit one gatling had been safely landed; the other of it with appealing frankness; but that was just being hoisted over the side of the scarcely lessened the hardships our cause vessel as we arrived. i noticed kearny dart- was made to suffer. ing about on board, seeming to have the “at last one afternoon we steamed into the ambition of ten men, and to be doing the calm estuary of the little rio escondido. work of five. i think his zeal bubbled over three miles up this we crept, feeling for the when he saw carlos and me. a rope's end shallow channel between the low banks that was swinging loose from some part of the were crowded to the edge with gigantic trees tackle. kearny leaped impetuously and and riotous vegetation. then our whistle caught it. there was a crackle and a hiss and gave a little toot, and in five minutes we a smoke of scorching hemp, and the gatling heard a shout, and carlos—my brave carlos dropped straight as a plummet through the quintana-crashed through the tangled vines bottom of the flatboat and buried itself in waving his cap madly for joy. twenty feet of water and five feet of river mud. "a hundred yards away was his camp, “i turned my back on the scene. i heard where three hundred chosen patriots of es- carlos's loud cries as if from some extreme perando were awaiting our coming. for a grief too poignant for words. i heard the month carlos had been drilling them there in complaining murmur of the crew and the the tactics of war and filling them with the maledictions of torres, the sailing-master- spirit of revolution and liberty. i could not bear to look. “my captain-compadre mio!' shouted “by night some degree of order had been carlos, while yet my boat was being lowered. restored in camp. military rules were not 'you should see them in the drill by com- drawn strictly, and the men were grouped pañias-in the column wheel—in the march about the fires of their several messes, playing by fours—they are superb! also in the games of chance, singing their native songs, manual of arms—but, alas! performed only or discussing with voluble animation the con- with sticks of bamboo. the guns, capitan tingencies of our march upon the capital. -say that you have brought the guns! “to my tent, which had been pitched for "a thousand winchesters, carlos,' i me close to that of my chief lieutenant, came called to him. “and two gatlings.' kearny, indomitable, smiling, bright-eyed, "valgame dios!' he cried, throwing his bearing no traces of the buffets of his evil star. cap in the air. 'we shall sweep the world! rather was his aspect that of a heroic “at that moment kearny tumbled from the martyr whose tribulations were so high- steamer's side into the river. he could not sourced and glorious that he even took a swim, so the crew threw him a rope and drew splendor and a prestige from them. him back aboard. i caught his eye and his “well, captain,' said he, 'i guess you look of pathetic but still bright and un- realize that bad-luck kearny is still on deck. daunted consciousness of his guilty luck. i it was a shame, now, about that gun. she everybody's magazine only needed to be slewed two inches to clear laughed until the woods echoed. kearny the rail; and that's why i grabbed that rope's grinned. 'i told you how it was,' he said. end. who'd have thought that a sailor- “to-morrow,' i said, 'i shall detail one even a sicilian lubber on a banana coaster- hundred men under your command for would have fastened a line in a bow-knot? manual-of-arms drill and company evolutions. don't think i'm trying to dodge the re- you will rank as lieutenant. now, for god's sponsibility, captain. it's my luck.' sake, kearny,' i urged him, 'try to combat "there are men, kearny,' said i gravely, this superstition, if it is one. bad luck may 'who pass through life blaming upon luck be like any other visitor-preferring to stop and chance the mistakes that result from their where it is expected. get your mind off stars. own faults and incompetency. i do not say look upon esperando as your planet of good that you are such a man. but if all your fortune.' mishaps are traceable to that tiny star, the "i thank you, captain,' said kearny sooner we endow our colleges with chairs of quietly. 'i will try to make it the best moral astronomy, the better.' handicap i ever ran. “it isn't the size of the star that counts, “by noon the next day the submerged said kearny; “it's the quality. just the way gatling was rescued, as kearny had prom- it is with women. that's why they gave the ised. then carlos and manuel ortiz and biggest planets masculine names, and the kearny (my lieutenants) distributed win- little stars feminine ones—to even things up chesters among the troops and put them when it comes to getting their work in. sup- through an incessant rifle drill. we fired pose they had called my star agamemnon or no shots, blank or solid, for of all coasts bill mccarty or something like that instead esperando is the stillest; and we had no of phæbe. every time one of those old boys desire to sound any warnings in the ear of touched their calamity button and sent me that corrupt government until they should down one of their wireless pieces of bad luck, carry with them the message of liberty and i could talk back and tell 'em what i thought the downfall of oppression. of 'em in suitable terms. but you can't ad “in the afternoon came a mule-rider bear- dress such remarks to a phæbe. ing a written message to me from don “it pleases you to make a joke of it, rafael valdevia in the capital, aguas frias. kearny,' said i, without smiling. but it is no “whenever that man's name comes to my joke to me to think of my gatling mired in lips, words of tribute to his greatness, his the river ooze.' noble simplicity, and his conspicuous genius "as to that,' said kearny, abandoning his follow irrepressibly. he was a traveler, a light mood at once, 'i have already done what student of peoples and governments, a master i could. i have had some experience in of sciences, a poet, an orator, a leader, à hoisting stone in quarries. torres and i soldier, a critic of the world's campaigns and have already spliced three hawsers and the idol of the people of esperando. i had stretched them from the steamer's stern to been honored by his friendship for years. it a tree on shore. we will rig a tackle and was i who first turned his mind to the thought have the gun on terra firma before noon to that he should leave for his monument a new morrow.' esperando-a country freed from the rule of "one could not remain long at outs with unscrupulous tyrants, and a people made bad-luck kearny. happy and prosperous by wise and impartial “once more,' said i to him, 'we will legislation. when he had consented he threw waive this question of luck. have you ever himself into the cause with the undivided zeal had experience in drilling raw troops?' with which he endowed all of his acts. the "i was first sergeant and drill-master,' coffers of his great fortune were opened to said kearny, ‘in the chilean army for one those of us to whom were entrusted the secret year. and captain of artillery for another.' moves of the game. his popularity was "what became of your command?' i already so great that he had practically forced asked. president cruz to ouer him the portfolio of “shot down to a man,' said kearny, minister of war. during the revolutions against balmaceda. “the time, don rafael said in his letter, “somehow, the misfortunes of the evil- was ripe. success, he prophesied, was cer- starred one seemed to turn to me their comedy tain. the people were beginning to clamor side. i lay back upon my goat's-hide cot and publicly against cruz's misrule. bands of phoebe citizens in the capital were even going about of nights hurling stones at public build- ings and expressing their dissatisfaction. a bronze statue of president cruz in the bo- tanical gardens had been lassoed about the neck and overthrown, it only remained for me to arrive with my force and my thou- sand rifles, and for himself to come for- ward and proclaim himself the people's savior, to overthrow cruz in a single day. there would be but a half-hearted re- sistance from the six hundred govern- ment troops stationed in the capital. the country was ours. he presumed that by this time my steamer had ar- rived at quintana's camp. he pro- posed the th of july for the attack. that would give us six days in which to strike camp and march to aguas frias. in the meantime don rafael remained my good friend and com- padre en la causa de la libertad. “on the morning of the th we began our march toward the sea- following range of mountains, over the sixty-mile trail to the capital. our small arms and provisions were laden on pack mules. twenty men harnessed to each gatling gun rolled them smoothly along the flat, alluvial lowlands. our troops, well-shod and well-fed, moved with alacrity and heartiness. i and my three lieutenants were mounted on the tough mountain ponies of the country. "a mile out of camp one of the pack mules, becoming stubborn, the river." broke away from the train and plunged from the path into the thicket. the alert kearny spurred quickly after it and intercepted its flight. rising in his stirrups, he released one foot and bestowed upon the mutinous animal a hearty kick. the mule tottered and fell with a crash broadside upon the ground. as we gathered around it, it walled its great eyes almost humanly toward kearny and expired. that was bad; but worse, to our minds, was the concomitant disaster. part of the mule's burden had been one hundred pounds of the finest coffee to be had in the tropics. the bag burst and spilled the priceless brown mass of the ground berries among the dense vines and weeds of the swampy land. mala suerte! when you take away from an esperandan his coffee, you abstract his patriotism and fifty per cent. of his value as a soldier. the men began to rake up the precious stuff; but i beck- oned kearny back along the trail where they would not hear. the limit had been reached. “i took from my pocket a wallet of money and drew out some bills. "mr. kearny,' said i, 'here are some funds be- longing to don rafael valdevia, which i am ex- pending in his cause. i know of no better service it can buy for him than this. here is one hundred dollars. luck or no luck, we part company here. star or no star, calamity seems to travel by your side. you will return to the steamer. she touches at amotapa to discharge her lumber and iron, and then puts back to new orleans. hand this note to the sailing-master, who will give you passage.' i wrote on a leaf torn from my book, and placed it and the money in kearny's hand. “good-by,' i said, extending my own. it is not that i am displeased with you; but there is no place in this expedition for—let us say, the señorita phæbe. i said this with a smile, trying to smooth the thing for him. “may you have better luck, com- pañero.' “kearny took the money and the paper. "it was just a little touch,' said he, just a little liſt with the toe of my boot—but what's the odds ?—that blamed mule would have died if i had only dusted his ribs with a powder puff. it was my luck. well, captain, i would have liked to be in that little fight with you over in aguas frias. success to the cause. adios!' " kearvy tumbled into everybody's magazine "he turned around and set off down the were always bananas and oranges. higher trail without looking back. the unfortunate up it was worse; but your men left a good mule's pack-saddle was transferred to kear- deal of goat meat hanging on the bushes in ny's pony, and we again took up the march. the camps. here's your hundred dollars. “four days we journeyed over the foot. you're nearly there now, captain. let me hills and mountains, fording icy torrents, in on the scrapping to-morrow.' winding around the crumbling brows of “not for a hundred times a hundred would ragged peaks, creeping along rocky flanges i have the tiniest thing go wrong with my that overlooked awful precipices, crawling plans now,' i said, 'whether caused by evil breathlessly over tottering bridges across bot- planets or the blunders of mere man. but tomless chasms. yonder is aguas frias five miles away, and a “on the evening of the th we camped clear road. i am of the mind to defy saturn by a little stream on the bare hills five miles and all his satellites to spoil our success now. from aguas frias. at daybreak we were to at any rate, i will not turn away to-night as take up the march again. weary a traveler and as good a soldier as you "at midnight i was standing outside my are, lieutenant kearny. manuel ortiz's tent inhaling the fresh cold air. tent is there by the brightest the stars were shining bright fire. rout him out and tell in the cloudless sky, giving the him to supply you with food heavens their proper aspect of and blankets and clothes. we illimitable depth and distance march again at daybreak.' when viewed from the vague “kearny thanked me briefly darkness of the blotted earth. but feelingly and moved away. almost at its zenith was the “he had gone scarcely a planet saturn; and with a half- dozen steps when a sudden flash smile i observed the sinister red of bright light illumined the sur- sparkle of his malignant attend- rounding hills; a sinister, grow- ant—the demon star of kearny's ing, hissing sound like escaping ill luck. and then my thoughts steam filled my ears. then fol- strayed across the hills to the lowed a roar as of distant thun- scene of our coming triumph der, which grew louder every where the heroic and noble don instant. this terrifying noise rafael awaited our coming to culminated in a tremendous ex- set a new and shining star in plosion, which seemed to rock the firmament of nations. the hills as an earthquake “i heard a slight rustling in would; the illumination waxed to the deep grass to my right. i a glare so fierce that i clapped turned and saw kearny coming my hands to my eyes to save toward me. he was ragged and them. i thought the end of the dew-drenched and limping. his world had come. i could think hat and one boot were gone. of no natural phenomenon that about one foot he had tied some would explain it. my wits were makeshift of cloth and grass. but his staggering. the deafening explosion trailed manner as he approached was that of a man off into the rumbling roar that had preceded who knows his own virtues well enough to be it; and through this i heard the frightened superior to rebuffs. shouts of my troops as they stumbled from "well, sir,' i said, staring at him coldly, their resting-places and rushed wildly about. if there is anything in persistence, i see no also i heard the harsh tones of kearny's voice reason why you should not succeed in wreck- crying: 'they'll blame it on me, of course, ing and ruining us yet.' and what the devil it is, it's not francis “i kept half a day's journey behind,' said kearny that can give you an answer. kearny, fishing out a stone from the covering “i opened my eyes. the hills were still of his lame foot, ‘so the bad luck wouldn't there, dark and solid. it had not been, then, touch you. i couldn't help it, captain; i a volcano nor an earthquake. i looked up at wanted to be in on this game. it was a the sky and saw a comet-like trail crossing the pretty tough trip, especially in the department zenith and extending westward-a fiery trail of the commissary. in the low grounds there waning fainter and narrower each moment. "phce: be's gone!' he cried." "the professor looked quickly up at the ceiling." ""a meteor!' i called aloud. “a meteor had visions of him riding as commander of has fallen. there is no danger.' president valdevia's body-guard when the “and then all other sounds were drowned plums of the new republic should begin to fall. by a great shout from kearny's throat. he “carlos followed with the troops and sup- had raised both hands above his head and plies. he was to halt in a wood outside the was standing tiptoe. town and remain concealed there until he “phebe's gone!' he cried, with all received the word to advance. his lungs. “she's busted and gone to hell. “kearny and i rode down the calle ancho look, captain, the little red-headed hoodoo toward the residencia of don rafael at the has blown herself to smithereens. she found other side of the town. as we passed the kearny too tough to handle, and she puffed superb white buildings of the university of up with spite and meanness till her boiler esperando, i saw at an open window the blew up. it'll be bad-luck kearny no gleaming spectacles and bald head of herr more. oh, let us be joyful! bergowitz, professor of the natural sciences and friend of don rafael and of me and of “humpty dumpty sat on a wall; humpty busted, and that'll be all.' the cause. he waved his hand to me, with his broad, bland smile. “i looked up, wondering, and picked out “there was no excitement apparent in saturn in his place. but the small red aguas frias. the people went about leisure- twinkling luminary in his vicinity, which ly as at all times; the market was thronged kearny had pointed out to me as his evil star, with bareheaded women buying fruit and had vanished. i had seen it there but half carne; we heard the twang and tinkle of an hour before; there was no doubt that one string bands in the patios of the cantinas. of those .awful and mysterious spasms of we could see that it was a waiting game that nature had hurled it from the heavens. don rafael was playing. “i clapped kearny on the shoulder. “his residencia was a large but low build- “little man,' said i, élet this clear the ing around a great courtyard in grounds way for you. it appears that astrology has crowded with ornamental trees and tropic failed to subdue you. your horoscope must shrubs. at his door an old woman who be cast anew with pluck and loyalty for con- came informed us that don rafael had not trolling stars. i play you to win. now, get yet arisen. to your tent, and sleep. daybreak is the "tell him,' said i, 'that captain maloné word.' and a friend wish to see him at once. perhaps “at nine o'clock on the morning of the he has overslept.' th of july i rode into aguas frias, with “she came back looking frightened. kearny at my side. in his clean linen suit “i have called,' she said, “and rung his bell and with his military poise and keen eye he many times, but he does not answer.' was a model of a fighting adventurer. i "i knew where his sleeping-room was. avens. everybody's magazine kearny and i pushed by her and went to it. i put my shoulder against the thin door and forced it open. “in an armchair by a great table covered with maps and books sat don rafael with his eyes closed. i touched his hand. he had been dead many hours. on his head above one ear was a wound caused by a heavy blow. it had ceased to bleed long before. “i made the old woman call a mozo, and despatched him in haste to fetch herr bergowitz. “he came, and we stood about as if we were half stunned by the awful shock. thus can the letting of a few drops of blood from one man's veins drain the life of a nation. “presently herr bergowitz stooped and picked up a darkish stone the size of an orange which he saw under the table. he ex- amined it closely through his great glasses with the eye of science. "a fragment,' said he, 'of a detonating meteor. the most remarkable one in twenty years exploded above this city a little after midnight this morning.' “the professor looked quickly up at the ceiling. we saw the blue sky through a hole the size of an orange nearly above don rafael's chair. “i heard a familiar sound, and turned. kearny had thrown himself on the floor and was babbling his compendium of bitter, blood- freezing curses against the star of his evil luck “undoubtedly phæbe had been feminine. even when hurtling on her way to fiery dis- solution and everlasting doom, the last word had been hers.” to a friend who holds a professorship in tulane university. “when i had finished he laughed and asked whether i had any knowledge of kearny's luck afterward. i told him no, that i had seen him no more; but that when he left me, he had expressed confi- dence that his future would be successful now that his unlucky star had been over- thrown. “no doubt,' said the professor, “he is happier not to know one fact. if he derived his bad luck from phæbe, the ninth satellite of saturn, that malicious lady is still engaged in overlooking his career. the star close to saturn that he imagined to be her was near that planet simply by the chance of its orbit —probably at different times he has regarded many other stars that happened to be in saturn's neighborhood as his evil one. the real phæbe is visible only through a very good telescope.' “about a year afterward,” continued captain maloné, “i was walking down a street that crossed the poydras market. an immensely stout, pink-faced lady in black satin crowded me from the narrow sidewalk with a frown. behind her trailed a little man laden to the gunwales with bundles and bags of goods and vegetables. “it was kearny--but changed. i stopped and shook one of his hands, which still clung to a bag of garlic and red peppers. “how is the luck, old compañero?' i asked him. i had not the heart to tell him the truth about his star. “well,' said he, 'i am married, as you may guess.' "francis!' called the big lady, in deep tones, "are you going to stop in the street talking all day?'. “i am coming, phæ- be dear,' said kearny, hastening after her.” captain malone was not unskilled in narrative. he knew the point where a story should end. i sat revel- ing in his effective con- clusion when he aroused me by continuing: “of course," said he, "our schemes were at an end. there was no one to take don rafa- el's place. our little army melted away like dew before the sun. “one day after i had returned to new or- leans i related this story captain maloné ceased again. “after all, do you be- lieve in luck?” i asked. “do you?” answered the captain, with his ambiguous smile shaded by the brim of his soft straw hat. "it was kearny." mary greene-blumenschein paris she was thoroughly alive, bold, predatory, and savagely graceful. -"the guest of quesnay." the guest of quesnay by booth tarkington author of "the gentleman from indiana," "the two van revels," "monsieur beaucaire," etc. illustrations by m. g. blumenschein there are old parisians who will tell prelates; shabby young priests; cavalrymen iyou pompously that the boulevards, in casque and cuirass; workingmen turned like the political cafés, have ceased to exist, horse and harnessed to carts; sidewalk jesters; but this means only that the boulevards no itinerant vendors of questionable wares; longer gossip of louis napoleon, the return shady loafers dressed to resemble gold-show- of the bourbons, or of general boulanger, ering america; motor-cyclists in leather; pur- for these highways are always too busily stir- ple-faced, glazed-hatted, scarlet-waistcoated, ring with present movements not to be for- cigarette-smoking cabmen, calling one an- getful of their yesterdays. in the shade of other “onions," "camels,” and names even the buildings and awnings, the loungers, the more terrible; hairy musicians, blue gen- lookers-on in paris, the audience of the boule- darmes, baggy red zouaves. and women vard, sit at little tables, sipping coffee from prevalent over all the concourse: fair women, long glasses, drinking absinthe or bright- dark women, pretty women, gilded women, colored sirops, and gazing over the heads of haughty women, indifferent women, friendly throngs afoot at others borne along through women, merry women. fine women in fine the sunshine of the street in carriages, in clothes; rich women in fine clothes; poor cabs, in glittering automobiles, or high on women in fine clothes. handsome old women, the tops of omnibuses. reclining befurred in electric landaulettes; from all the continents the multitudes hoydenish old women pushing carts full of come to join in that procession. americans, flowers. wonderful automobile women, tagged with race-cards and intending hilari- quick-glimpsed, in multiple veils of white and ous disturbances; puzzled americans, worn brown and sea-green. women in rags and with guide-book plodding. chinese princes tags, and women draped, coifed, and be- in silk. queer antillean dandies of swarthy frilled in the delirium of maddened poet- origin and fortune. ruddy english, thinking milliners and the hasheesh dreams of ladies' of nothing; pallid english, with upper teeth tailors. bared and eyes hungrily searching for sign- about the procession, as it moves intermi- boards of tea-rooms. over-europeanized jap- nably along the boulevard, a blue haze of fine anese, unpleasantly immaculate. burnoused dust and burnt gasoline rises into the sun- sheiks from the desert, and red-fezzed semitic shine like the haze over the passages to an peddlers. italian nobles in english tweeds. amphitheatre toward which a crowd is tram- soudanese negroes swaggering in frock coats. pling; and through this the multitudes seem slim spaniards, squat turks. travelers, to go as actors passing to their cues. your idlers, exiles, fugitives, sportsmen. all the place at one of the little tables upon the side- tribes and kinds of men are tributary here walk is that of a wayside spectator: and as to the parisian stream which, on a fair day in the performers go by, in some measure acting spring, already overflows the banks with its or looking their parts already, as if in prep- own much-mingled waters. soberly clad bur- aration, you guess the rôles they play, and gesses, bearded, amiable, and in no fatal name them comedians, tragedians, buffoons, hurry; well-kept men of the world swirling by saints, beauties, sots, knaves, gladiators, ac- in glittering limousines; legless cripples flop- róbats, dancers; for all of these are there, and ping on hands and leather pads; thin-whis- you distinguish the principals from the un- kered students in velveteen; walrus-mus- numbered supernumeraries pressing forward tached veterans in broadcloth; keen-faced old to the entrances. so, if you sit at the little everybody's magazine tables often enough-that is, if you become together; in truth the man appeared to be al- an amateur boulevardier--you begin to rec- most in a semi-stupor, and, contrasted with ognize the transient stars of the pageant, this silenus, even the woman beside him gained those to whom the boulevard allows a dubi- something of human dignity. at least, she ous and fugitive rôle of celebrity, and whom was thoroughly alive, bold, predatory, and in it greets with a slight flutter: the turning of spite of the gross embonpoint that threat- heads, a murmur of comment, and the incred- ened her, still savagely graceful. a purple ulous boulevard smile, which seems to say: veil, dotted with gold, floated about her hat, “you see? madame and monsieur passing from which green-dyed ostrich plumes cas- there-evidently they think we still believe caded down across a cheek enameled dead in them!” white. her hair was plastered in blue-black this flutter heralded and followed the pass- waves, parted low on the forehead; her lips ing of a white touring-car with the procession were splashed a startling carmine, the eye- one afternoon just before the grand prix, lids painted blue; and, from between lashes though it needed no boulevard celebrity to gummed into little spikes of blacking, she make the man who lolled in the tonneau favored her companion with a glance of care- conspicuous. simply for that, notoriety was lessly simulated tenderness, a look all too superfluous; so were the remarkable size and vividly suggesting the ghastly calculations of a power of his car; so was the elaborate touring- cook wheedling a chicken nearer the kitchen costume of flannels and pongee he wore; so door. but i felt no great pity for the victim. was even the enameled presence of the dancer “who is it?" i asked, staring at the man who sat beside him. his face would have in the automobile and not turning toward done it without accessories. ward. my old friend, george ward, and i had “that is mariana—'la belle mariana la met for our apéritif at the terrace larue, by mursiana,'” george answered; “—one of the madeleine, when the white automobile those women who come to paris from the came snaking its way craftily through the tropics to form themselves on the legend of traffic. turning in to pass a victoria on the the one great famous and infamous spanish wrong side, it was forced down to a snail's dancer who died a long while ago. mariana pace near the curb and not far from our table, did very well for a time. i've heard that the where it paused, checked by a blockade at revolutionary societies intend striking medals the next corner. i heard ward utter a half- in her honor; she's done worse things to roy- suppressed guttural of what i took to be alty than all the anarchists in europe. but amazement, and i did not wonder. the face her great days are over: she's getting old; of the man in the tonneau detached him to that type goes to pieces quickly, once it begins the spectator's gaze and singled him out of to slump, and it won't be long before she'll the concourse with an effect almost ludicrous be horribly fat, though she's still a graceful in its incongruity. dancer. she danced at the folie rouge last the hair was dark and thick; certain ruin- week.” ous vestiges of youth and good looks remained; “thank you, george," i said gratefully. but whatever the features might once have “i hope you'll point out the louvre and the been, whatever they might have shown of eiffel tower to me some day. i didn't mean honor, worth, or kindly semblance, had dis- mariana.” appeared beyond all tracing in a blurred dis- “what did you mean?" tortion. the lids of one eye were discolored what i had meant was so obvious that i and swollen together-patently from a blow, turned to my friend in surprise. he was and one guessed how he got it—those of the nervously tapping his chin with the handle of other sagged; the nose lost outline in the dis- his cane and staring at the white automobile colorations of the puffed cheeks; the chin, with very grim interest. tufted with an absurd “imperial,” trembled “i meant the man with her," i said. beneath a swollen and hanging lower lip. “oh!” he laughed sourly. “that car- massaged, powdered, and doctored as it was, rion?” by some valet of infinite pains, it was the face “you seem to be an acquaintance!" of a sodden tramp and would have frightened “everybody on the boulevard knows who a child. he is," said ward curtly, paused, and laughed the figure was fat, but loose and sprawl- again with very little mirth. “so do you," ing, seemingly without the will to hold itself he continued; "and as for my acquaintance the guest of quesnay with him, yes, i had once the distinc- every event, no matter how trifling, in this tion of being his rival in a small way—a way man's pitiful career had been recorded in the so small, in fact, that it ended in his becoming american newspapers with an elaboration a connection of mine by marriage. he's which, for my part, i found infuriatingly tire- larrabee harman.” some. i have lived in paris so long that i that was a name somewhat familiar to am afraid to go home: i have too little to show readers of american newspapers even before for my years of pottering with paint and its bearer was fairly out of college. the pub- canvas, and i have grown timid about all the licity it then attained (partly due to young changes that have crept in at home. i do harman's conspicuous wealth) attached to not know the "new men," i do not know some youthful exploits not without a certain how they would use me, and fear they might wild humor. but frolic degenerated into make no place for me, and so i fit myself brawl and debauch: what had been scrapes more closely into the little grooves i have for the boy became scandals for the man; and worn for myself, and resign my mind to stay. he gathered a more and more unsavory rep. but i am no “expatriate." i know there utation until its like was not to be found out is a feeling at home against us who remain side a penitentiary. the crux of his career over here to do our work, but in most in- in his own country was reached during a mid- stances it is a prejudice which springs from night quarrel in chicago when he shot a ne- a misunderstanding. i think the quality of gro gambler. after that, the negro having patriotism in those of us who “didn't go home recovered and the matter being somehow ar- in time” is almost pathetically deep and ranged so that the prosecution was dropped, real, and, like many another oldish fellow harman's wife left him, and the papers re in my position, i try to keep as close to things corded her application for a divorce. she at home as i can. all of my old friends was george ward's second cousin, the daugh- gradually ceased to write to me, but i still ter of a baltimore clergyman; a belle in a sea- take three home newspapers, trying to follow son and town of belles, and a delightful, the people i knew and the things that happen; headstrong creature, from all accounts. she and the ubiquity of so worthless a creature had made a runaway match of it with har- as larrabee harman in the columns that man three years before, their affair having i dredged for real news had long been a point been earnestly opposed by all her relatives- of irritation to this present exile. not only especially by poor george, who came over to that: he had usurped space in the continental paris just after the wedding in a miserable papers, and of late my favorite parisian jour- frame of mind. nal had served him to me with my morning the chicago exploit was by no means the coffee, only hinting his name, but offering end of harman's notoriety. evading an him with that jocose satire characteristic of effort (on the part of an aunt, i believe) to the gallic journalist when writing of amer- get him locked up safely in a "sanitarium," icans. and so this grotesque wreck of a he began a trip round the world with an orgy man was well known to the boulevard—was which continued from san francisco to bang- one of its sights. that was to be perceived kok, where, in the company of some congenial by the flutter he caused, by the turning of fellow travelers, he interfered in a native heads in his direction, and the low laughter ceremonial with the result that one of his of the people at the little tables. three or companions was drowned. proceeding, he four in the rear ranks had risen to their feet was reported to be in serious trouble at to get a better look at him and his com- constantinople, the result of an inquisitive- panion. ness little appreciated by orientals. the t he dancer was aware of it, and called state department, bestirring itself, saved him his attention to it with a touch on the arm from a very real peril, and he continued his and a laugh and a nod of her brilliant plu- journey. in rome he was rescued with diffi- mage. culty from a street mob that unreasonably at that he seemed to rouse himself some- refused to accept intoxication as an excuse what: his head rolled heavily over upon his for his riding down a child on his way to the shoulder, the lids lifted a little from the red- hunt. later, during the winter just past, we shot eye, showing a sort of ugly pride when had been hearing from monte carlo of his his gaze fell upon the many staring faces. disastrous plunges at that most imbecile of then, as the procession moved again and all games, roulette. the white automobile with it, the sottish everybody's magazine er." mouth widened in a smile of dull and cynical that the first time he brought her to my contempt: just the look of a half-poisoned studio, she declared she hadn't seen anything augustan borne down through the crowds so like bring-the-child-to-the-old-hag's-cellar- from the palatine after supping with calig- at-midnight since her childhood. she is a ula. handsome woman, large, and of a fine, high ward pulled my sleeve. color; her manner is gaily dictatorial, and she “come,” he said, “let us go over to the and i got along very well together. prob- luxembourg gardens where the air is clean- ably she appreciated my going to some pains with the clothes i wore when i went to their house. i went there seldom, not for fear of chapter ii wearing out a welcome, but on account of miss elizabeth's “day," when i could see ward is a portrait-painter, and in the nothing of george because of the crowd of matter of vogue there seem to be no pinnacles lionizing women and time-wasters about him. left for him to surmount. i think he has her “day” was a dread of mine; i could sel- painted most of the very rich women of fash- dom remember which day it was, and when ion who have come to paris of late years, and i did she had a way of shifting it so that he has become so prosperous, has such a po- i was fatally sure to run into it—to my mis- lite celebrity, and his opinions upon art are ery, for, beginning with those primordial in- so widely quoted, that the friendship of some dignities suffered in youth, when i was of us who started with him has been danger- scrubbed with a handkerchief outside the ously strained. parlor door as a preliminary to polite usages, he lives a well-ordered life; he has always my childhood's, manhood's prayer has been: led that kind of life. even in his student from all such days, good lord, deliver me! days when i first knew him, i do not remem- it was george's habit to come much oftener ber an occasion upon which the principal of to see me. he always really liked the sort of a new england high school would have crit- society his sister had brought about him; icized his conduct. and yet i never heard but now and then there were intervals when any one call him a prig; and, so far as i it wore on him a little, i think. sometimes know, no one was ever so stupid as to think he came for me in his automobile and we him one. he was a quiet, good-looking, would make a mild excursion to breakfast in well-dressed boy, and he matured into a the country; and that is what happened one somewhat reserved, well-poised man, of im- morning about three weeks after the day pressive distinction in appearance and man- when we had sought pure air in the luxem- ner. he has always been well tended and bourg gardens. cared for by women; in his student days his we drove out through the bois and by mother lived with him; his sister, miss eliza- suresnes, striking into a roundabout road to beth, looks after him now. she came with versailles beyond st. cloud. it was june, him when he returned to paris after his dis- a dustless and balmy noon, the air thinly appointment in the unfortunate harman af- gilded by a faint haze, and i know few things fair and she took charge of all his business, pleasanter than that road on a fair day of the as well as his social arrangements (she has early summer and no sweeter way to course been accused of a theory that the two things it than in an open car, though i must not be may be happily combined), making him lease giving myself out for a “motorist”; i have a house in an expensively modish quarter not even the right cap. i am usually ner- near the avenue du bois de boulogne. miss vous in big machines, too; but ward has never elizabeth is an instinctively fashionable wom- caught the speed mania and has a strange an, practical withal, and to her mind success power over his chauffeur; so we rolled along should be not only respectable but "smart." peacefully, not madly, and smoked like the she does not speak of the “right bank” and car) in hasteless content. the “left bank” of the seine; she calls them “after all,” said george, with a placid wave the "right bank” and the "wrong bank." of the hand, “i wish sometimes that the land- and yet, though she removed george (her scape had called me. you outdoor men word is “rescued”) from many of his old have all the health and pleasure of living in associations with montparnasse, she warmly the open, and as for the work-oh! you fel- encouraged my friendship with him-yea, in lows think you work, but you don't know spite of my living so deep in the wrong bank what it means." the guest of quesnay paint?” “no?” i said, and smiled as i always lows that get into the pa- oh, lord! meanly do when george "talks art." he there they go!" was silent for a few moments and then said swinging out to pass us and then sweeping irritably, “well, at least you can't deny that in upon the reverse curve to clear the narrow the academic crowd can draw!” arch of the culvert were too much for the never having denied it, though he had white car; and through the dust we saw it challenged me in the same way perhaps a rock dangerously. in the middle of the road, thousand times, i refused to deny it now; ten feet from the culvert, the old woman whereupon he returned to his theme: “land- struggled frantically to get her cart out of the scape is about as simple as a stage fight; two way. the howl of the siren frightened her up, two down, cross and repeat. take that perhaps, for she lost her head and went to ahead of us. could anything be simpler to the wrong side; and the machine-made shriek drowned the human scream as the automobile he indicated the white road running be- struck. fore us between open fields to a curve, where the first shock was muffled. then the it descended to pass beneath an old stone mass of machinery hoisted itself in the air as culvert. beyond, stood a thick grove with a if it had a life of its own and had been stung clear sky flickering among the branches. an into sudden madness. it was horrible to see, old peasant woman was pushing a heavy cart but so grotesque that a long-forgotten mem- round the curve, a scarlet handkerchief knot- ory of my boyhood leaped instantaneously ted about her head. into my mind, a recollection of the evolutions “you think it's easy?" i asked. performed by a newfoundland dog that “easy! two hours ought to do it as well rooted under a board walk and found a hive as it could be done—the way you fellows do of wild bees. it!” he clenched his fingers as if upon the the white car left the road for the fields handle of a house-painter's brush. “slap, on the right, reared, fell, leaped against the dash—there's your road.” he paddled the stone side of the culvert, apparently trying to air with the imaginary brush as though paint climb it, stood straight on end, whirled back- ing the side of a barn. “swish, swash—there ward in a half-somersault, crashed over on go your fields and your stone bridge. fit! its side, flashed with fame and explosion, speck! and there's your old woman, her and lay hidden under a cloud of dust and red handkerchief, and what your dealer will smoke. probably call the human interest, all com- ward's driver slammed down his accel- plete. squirt the edges of your foliage in erator, sending us spinning round the curve, with a blow-pipe. throw a cup of tea over and the next moment, throwing on his brakes, the whole thing and there's your haze. call halted sharply at the culvert. it 'the golden road,' or 'the bath of sun- the fabric of the road was so torn and dis- light,' or 'quiet noon. then you'll prob- torted that one might have thought a steam ably get a criticism beginning, “few indeed dredge had begun work there, but the frag- have more intangibly detained upon canvas ments of wreckage were oddly isolated and so poetic a quality of sentiment as this ster- inconspicuous. the peasant's cart, tossed ling landscapist, who in number has so into a clump of weeds, rested on its side, the ethereally expressed the profound silence of spokes of a rimless wheel slowly revolving evening on an english moor. the solemn on the hub uppermost; a big brass lamp, hush, the brooding quiet, the homeward crumpled like waste paper, had fallen in the plowman " middle of the road; beside it lay a gold rouge- he was interrupted by an outrageous up- box; some tools were strewn in a semicircu- roar, the grisly scream of a siren, and the lar trail, and, as i sprang out of ward's car, cannonade of a powerful exhaust, as a great my foot crunched a pair of smashed goggles. white touring-car swung round us from be the old woman had somehow saved her- hind at a speed that sickened me to see, and, self-or perhaps her saint had helped her- snorting thunder, passed us “as if we had for she was sitting in the grass by the road- been standing still.” it hurtled like a comet side, wailing hysterically and quite unhurt. down the curve and we were instantly chok. the body of a man lay in a heap beneath the ing in its swirling tail of dust. stone archway, and from his clothes i guessed “seventy miles an hour!” gasped george, that he had been the driver of the white car. swabbing at his eyes. “those are the fel- i say “had been” because there were reasons everybody's magazine why it needed no second glance to know that the smoke had cleared a little, though a the man was dead. nevertheless, i knelt rivulet of burning gasoline ran from the wreck beside him and placed my hand upon his to a pool of flame it was feeding in the road. breast to see if his heart still beat. after the front cushions and woodwork had wards i concluded that i did this because i caught fire and a couple of laborers, panting had seen it done upon the stage, or had read with the run across the fields, were vainly be- of it in stories, and even at the time i realized laboring the flames with brushwood. from that it was a silly thing for me to be doing. beneath the overturned tonneau projected ward, meanwhile, proved more practical. the lower part of a man's leg, clad in a brown he was dragging a woman out of the suffo- puttee and a russet shoe. ward's driver had cating smoke and dust that shrouded the brought his tools; had jacked up the car as wreck, and after a moment i went to help high as possible; but was still unable to re- him carry her into the fresh air, where ward lease the imprisoned body. put his coat under her head. her hat had “i have seized that foot and pulled with been forced forward over her face and held all my strength,” he said, “and i cannot there by the twisting of a system of veils she make him move one centimeter. it is neces- wore; and we had some difficulty in unravel- sary that as many people as possible lay hold ing this; but she was very much alive, as a of the car on the side away from the fire and series of muffled imprecations testified, lead- all lift together. yes,” he added, “and very ing us to conclude that her sufferings were soon!” more profoundly of rage than of pain. fi- some carters had come from the road and nally she pushed our hands angrily aside and one of them lay full length on the ground completed the untanglement herself, reveal peering beneath the wreck. “it is the head of ing the scratched and smeared face of ma- monsieur,” explained this one; “it is the head riana the dancer. of monsieur which is fastened under there." “cornichon! chameau! fond du bain!” “eh, but you are wiser than clémenceau!" she gasped, tears of anger starting from her said the chauffeur. “get up, my ancient, eyes. she tried to rise before we could help and you there, with the brushwood, let the her, but dropped back with a scream. fire go for a moment and help, when i say the “oh, the pain!” she cried. “that imbe- word. and you, monsieur," he turned to cile! if he has let me break my leg! a pretty ward, "if you please, will you pull with me dancer i should be! i hope he is killed.” upon the ankle here at the right moment?”. one of the singularities of motoring on the the carters, the laborers, the men from main-traveled roads near paris is the preva- the other automobile, and i laid hold of the lence of cars containing physicians and sur- car together. geons. whether it be testimony to the op “now, then, messieurs, lift!” portunism, to the sporting proclivities, or to stifled with the gasoline smoke, we obeyed. the prosperity of gentlemen of those pro- one or two hands were scorched and our fessions, i do not know, but it is a fact that eyes smarted blindingly, but we gave a mighty i have never heard of an accident (and in the heave, and felt the car rising. season there is an accident every day) on one “well done!” cried the chauffeur. “well of these roads when a doctor in an automo- done! but a little more! the smallest bile was not almost immediately a chance fraction-ha! it is finished, messieurs!” arrival, and fortunately our case offered no w e staggered back, coughing and wiping exception to this rule. another automobile our eyes. for a minute or two i could not had already come up and the occupants were see at all, and was busy with a handkerchief. hastily alighting. ward shouted to the fore ward laid his hand on my shoulder. most to go for a doctor. “do you know who it is?” he asked. “i am a doctor," the man answered, ad “yes, of course," i answered. vancing and kneeling quickly by the dancer. when i could see again, i found that i was “and you—you may be of help yonder.” looking almost straight down into the up- we turned toward the ruined car where turned face of larrabee harman, and i can- ward's driver was shouting for us. not better express what this man had come “what is it?” called ward as we ran to be, and what the degradation of his life toward him. had written upon him, than by saying that “monsieur," he replied, “there is some the dreadful mask i looked upon now was one under the tonneau here!” no more horrible a sight than the face i had the guest of quesnay seen, fresh from the valet and smiling in ugly ter my departure from paris i had but one pride at the starers, as he passed the terrace missive from him, a short note, written at the of larue on the day before the grand prix. request of his sister, asking me to be on the lookout for italian earrings, to add to her we helped to carry him to the doctor's collection of old jewels. so, from time to car, and to lift the dancer into ward's, and time, i sent her what i could find about capri to get both of them out again at the hospital or in naples, and she responded with neat at versailles, where they were taken. then, little letters of acknowledgment. with no need to ask each other if we should two years i stayed on capri, eating the abandon our plan to breakfast in the coun- lotus which grows on that happy island, and try, we turned toward paris, and rolled along painting very little just enough, indeed, to almost to the barriers in silence. be remembered at the salon and not so much “did it seem to you," said george finally, as knowing how kindly or unkindly they “that a man so frightfully injured could have hung my pictures there. but even on capri, any chance of getting well?” people sometimes hear the call of paris and "no," i answered. “i thought he was wish to be in that unending movement: to dying as we carried him into the hospital.” hear the multitudinous rumble, to watch the “so did i. the top of his head seemed procession from a café terrace and to dine at all crushed in- whew!” he broke off, foyot's. so there came at last a fine day when shivering, and wiped his brow. after a pause i, knowing that the horse-chestnuts were in he added thoughtfully, “it will be a great bloom along the champs elysées, threw my thing for louise.” rope-soled shoes to a beggar, packed a rusty louise was the name of his second cousin, trunk, and was off for the banks of the seine. the girl who had done battle with all her fam- my arrival-just the drive from the gare ily and then run away from them to be larra- de lyon to my studio—was like the shock bee harman's wife. remembering the stir of surf on a bather's breast. that her application for divorce had made, i the stir and life, the cheerful energy of did not understand how harman's death could the streets, put stir and life and cheerful en- benefit her, unless george had some reason to ergy into me. i felt the itch to work again, believe that he had made a will in her favor. to be at it, at it in earnest—to lose no hour however, the remark had been made more of daylight, and to paint better than i had to himself than to me and i did not respond painted! paris having given me this impetus, i the morning papers flared once more with dared not tempt her further, nor allow the the name of larrabee harman, and we read edge of my eagerness time to blunt; therefore, that there was “no hope of his surviving.” at the end of a fortnight, i went over into ironic phrase! there was not a soul on normandy and deposited that rusty trunk earth that day who could have hoped for his of mine in a corner of the summer pavilion recovery, or who—for his sake-cared two in the courtyard of madame brossard's inn, straws whether he lived or died. and the les trois pigeons, in a woodland neighbor- dancer had been right; one of her legs was hood that is there. here i had painted badly broken, and she would never dance through a prolific summer of my youth, and again. i was glad to find-as i had hoped-nothing evening papers reported that harman was changed; for the place was dear to me. ma- “lingering.” he was lingering the next day. dame brossard (dark, thin, demure as of yore, he was lingering the next week, and the end a fine-looking woman with a fine manner and of a month saw him still “lingering.” then much the flavor of old norman portraits) i went down to capri, where--for he had been gave me a pleasant welcome, remembering after all the merest episode to me-i was me readily but without surprise, while amé- pleased to forget all about him. dée, the antique servitor, cackled over me and was as proud of my advent as if i had been a new egg and he had laid me. the chapter iii simile is grotesque; but amédée is the most henlike waiter in france. a great many people keep their friends he is a white-haired, fat old fellow, as neat in mind by writing to them, but more do not; as a billiard-ball. in the daytime, when he and ward and i belong to the majority. af- is partly porter, he wears a black tie, a gray everybody's magazine waistcoat broadly striped with scarlet, and, barrows. there was a long arbor, offering from waist to feet, a white apron like a skirt, a shelter of vines for those who might choose and so competently encircling that his trou to dine, breakfast, or lounge beneath, and sers are of mere conventionality and no real here and there among the shrubberies were necessity; but after six o'clock (becoming al- unexpected, straw-thatched bowers. my own together a maître d'hôtel) he is clad as any pavilion (half bedroom, half studio) was set other formal gentleman. at all times he in the midst of all and had a small porch of its wears a fresh tablecloth over his arm, keeping own with a rich curtain of climbing honey- an exaggerated pile of them ready at hand suckle for a screen from the rest of the court- on a ledge in one of the little bowers of the yard. courtyard, so that he may never be shamed the inn itself is gray with age, the roof by getting caught without one. sagging pleasantly here and there; and an his conception of life is that all worthy old wooden gallery runs the length of each persons were created as receptacles for food wing, the guest-chambers of the upper story and drink; and five minutes after my arrival opening upon it like the deck-rooms of a he had me seated in spite of some meek pro- steamer, while boxes of tulips and hyacinths tests) in a wicker chair with a pitcher of the make the gayest of border lines along the gal- right three pigeons cider on the table before lery railings and window ledges. me, while he subtly dictated what manner of beyond the great open archway, which dinner i should eat. for this interval amé- gives entrance to the courtyard, lies the quiet dée's exuberance was sobered and his badi- country road; passing this, my eyes followed nage dismissed as being mere garniture; the the wide sweep of poppy-sprinkled fields to a questions now before us concerning grave and line of low green hills; and there was the edge inward matters. his suggestions were def- of the forest that sheltered those woodland erential but insistent; his manner was that interiors which i had long ago tried to paint, of a prime minister who goes through the and where i should be at work to-morrow. form of convincing the sovereign. he greet- in the course of time, and well within the ed each of his own decisions with a very loud bright twilight, amédée spread the crisp “bien!” as if startled by the brilliancy of my white cloth and served me at a table on my selections, and, the menu being concluded, pavilion porch. he feigned anxiety lest i exploded a whole volley of “biens" and set should find certain dishes (those which he off violently to instruct old gaston the cook. knew were most delectable) not to my taste, that is amédée's way; he always starts but was obviously so distended with fatuous violently for anywhere he means to go. he is pride over the whole meal that it became a a little lame and his progress more or less temptation to denounce at least some trifling sidelong, but if you call him, or new guests sauce or garnishment; nevertheless, so much arrive at the inn, or he receives an order from mendacity proved beyond me and i spared madame brossard, he gives the effect of run- him and my own conscience. this puffed- ning by a sudden movement of the whole uppedness of his was to be observed only in body like that of a man about to run, and his expression and manner, for during the moves off using the gestures of a man who is consumption of food it was his worthy cus- running; after which he proceeds to his des- tom to practise a ceremonious, nay, a rever- tination at an exquisite leisure. remember- ential, hush, and he never offered (or ap- ing this old habit of his, it was with joy that i proved) conversation until he had prepared noted his headlong departure. some ten feet the salad. that accomplished, however, and of his progress accomplished, he halted (for the water bubbling in the coffee machine, he no purpose but to scratch his head the more readily favored me with a discourse on the de- luxuriously); next, strayed from the path to cline in glory of les trois pigeons. contemplate a rose-bush, and, selecting a leaf “monsieur, it is the automobiles; they have with careful deliberation, placed it in his done it. formerly, as when monsieur was mouth and continued meditatively upon his here, the painters came from paris. they way to the kitchen. i chuckled within me; would come in the spring and would stay it was good to be back at madame brossard's. until the autumn rains. hat busy times the courtyard was more a garden; bright and what drolleries! ah, it was gay in those with rows of flowers in formal little beds and days! monsieur remembers well. ha, ha! blossoming up from big green tubs, from red but now, i think, the automobiles have fright- jars, and also from two brightly painted wheel- ened away the painters; at least they do not the guest of quesnay come any more. and the automobiles them- upper floor of the left wing they have taken selves; they come sometimes for lunch, a few, the grand suite-those two and their valet- but they love better the seashore, and we are de-chambre. that is truly the way in modern just close enough to be too far away. those times—the philosophers are rich men.” automobiles, they love the big new hotels and “yes," i sighed. “only the painters are the casinos with roulette. they eat hastily, poor nowadays." gulp down a liqueur, and poul off they rush “ha, ha, monsieur!” amédée laughed for trouville, for beuzeval-houlgate, for cunningly. “it was always easy to see that heaven knows where; and even the automo- monsieur only amuses himself with his paint- biles do not come so frequently as they did. ing." our road used to be the best from lisieux “thank you, amédée,” i responded. “i to beuzeval, but now the maps recommend have amused other people with it too, i fear." another. they pass us by, and yet yonder- “oh, without doubt!” he agreed gracious- only a few kilometers-is the coast with its ly, as he folded the cloth. i have always tried thousands. we are near the world but out to believe that it was not so much my pic- of it, monsieur.” tures as the fact that i paid my bills the day he poured my coffee; dropped a lump of they were presented which convinced every- sugar from the tongs with a benevolent ges- body about les trois pigeons that i was an ture—“one lump: always the same. mon amateur. but i never became happily sieur sees that i remember well, ha?”—and enough settled in this opinion to ask; and it the twilight having fallen, he lit two orange- was a relief that amédée changed the subject. shaded candles and my cigar with the same “monsieur remembers the château de match. the night was so quiet that the quesnay—at the crest of the hill on the road candle-lights burned as steadily as flames in north of dives?” a globe, yet the air was spiced with a cool “i remember.” fragrance, and through the honeysuckle leaves “it is occupied this season by some rich above me i saw, as i leaned back in my americans.” wicker chair, a glimmer of kindly stars. “how do you know they are rich ?”. “very comfortably out of the world, amé- “dieu de dieu!” the old fellow appealed dée,” i said. “it seems to me i have it all to heaven. “but they are americans!” to myself.” “and therefore millionaires. perfectly, “unhappily, yes!” he exclaimed; then ex- amédée.” cused himself, chuckling. “i should have “perfectly, monsieur. perhaps monsieur said that we should be happier if we had knows them.” many like monsieur. but it is early in the “yes, i know them.” season to despair. then, too, our best suite “truly!” he affected dejection. “and is already engaged.” poor madame brossard thought monsieur “by whom?" had returned to our old hotel because he liked “two men of science who arrive next week. it, and remembered our wine of beaune and one is a great man. madame brossard is the good beds and old gaston's cooking!” pleased that he is coming to les trois pigeons, “do not weep, amédée," i said. “i have but i tell her it is only natural. he comes come to paint; not because i know the people now for the first time because he likes the who have taken quesnay." and i added: quiet, but he will come again, like mon- “i may not see them at all.” sieur, because he has been here before. that in truth i thought that very probable. is what i always say: 'any one who has been miss elizabeth had mentioned in one of her here must come again. the problem is only notes that ward had leased quesnay, but i to get them to come the first time. truly!” had not sought quarters at les trois pigeons .“who is the great man, amédée?” because it stood within walking-distance of the “ah! a distinguished professor of sci château. in my industrious frame of mind ence. truly." that circumstance seemed almost a draw- “what science?” back. miss elizabeth, ever hospitable to "i do not know. but he is a member of those whom she noticed at all, would be the institute. monsieur must have heard of doubly so in the country, as people always that great professor keredec?” are; and i wanted all my time to myself--no “the name is known. who is the other?” very selfish wish since my time was not con- "a friend of his. i do not know. all the ceivably of value to any one else. i thought everybody's magazine it wise to leave any encounter with the lady knowingness. “ah, truly! when that lady to chance, and as the by-paths of the country- drives by, some day, in the carriage from the side were many and intricate, i intended, château-eh? then monsieur will see how without ungallantry, to render the chance much he has to live for. truly, truly, truly!” remote. george himself had just sailed on he had cleared the table, and now, with a a business trip to america, as i knew from final explosion of the word which gave him her last missive; and until his return, i should such immoderate satisfaction, he lifted the put in all my time at painting and nothing tray and made one of his precipitate de- else, though i liked his sister, as i have said, partures. and thought of her-often. “amédée,” i said, as he slackened down amédée doubted my sincerity, however, to his sidelong leisure. for he laughed incredulously. “monsieur?” “eh, well, monsieur enjoys saying it!” “who is madame d'armand?” “certainly. it is a pleasure to say what “a guest of mademoiselle ward at ques- one means." nay. in fact, she is in charge of the châ- “but monsieur could not mean it. mon- teau, since mademoiselle ward is, for the sieur will call at the château in the morning” time, away." the complacent varlet prophesied—“as “is she a frenchwoman?” early as it will be polite. i am sure of that. “i think not. in fact, she is an american, monsieur is not at all an old man; no, not yet! though she dresses with so much of taste. even if he were, aha! no one could possess ah, madame brossard admits it and ma- the friendship of that wonderful madame dame brossard knows the art of dressing, for d'armand and remain away from the châ- she spends a week of every winter in rouen teau.” —and besides there is trouville itself only “madame d'armand?” i said. “that fifteen kilometers distant. madame bros- is not the name. you mean mademoiselle sard says that mademoiselle ward dresses ward.” with richness and splendor and madame “no, no!” he shook his head and his d’armand with economy, but beauty. those fat cheeks bulged with a smile which i were the words used by madame brossard. believe he intended to express a respectful truly.” roguishness. “mademoiselle ward”—he “madame d’armand's name is french," pronounced it “ware”-“is magnificent; i observed. every one must fly to obey when she opens “yes, that is true," said amédée thought- her mouth. if she did not like the ocean there fully. “no one can deny it; it is a french below the chateau, the ocean would have to name.” he rested the tray upon a stump move! it needs only a glance to perceive near by and scratched his head. “i do not that mademoiselle ward is a great lady- understand how that can be,” he continued but madame d'armand! aha!” he rolled slowly. “jean ferret, who is chief gardener his round eyes with an effect of unspeakable at the château, is an acquaintance of mine. admiration, and with a gesture indicated that we sometimes have a cup of cider at père he would have kissed his hand to the stars, baudry's, a kilometer down the road from had that been properly reverential to ma- here; and jean ferret has told me that she dame d'armand. “but monsieur knows is an american. and yet, as you say, mon- very well for himself,” he concluded archly. sieur, the name is french. perhaps she is “monsieur knows that you are very con- french after all.” fusing-even for a maître d'hôtel," i re- “i believe,” said i, “that if i struggled a turned. “we were speaking of the present few days over this puzzle, i might come to chatelaine of quesnay, mademoiselle ward. the conclusion that madame d'armand is i have never heard of madame d'armand." an american lady who has married a french- “monsieur is serious?" “truly!” i answered, making bold to the old man uttered an exclamation of quote his shibboleth. triumph. “then monsieur has truly much to live “ha! without doubt! truly she must be for. truly!” he chuckled openly, convinced an american lady who has married a french- that he had obtained a marked advantage man. monsieur has already solved the puz- in a conflict of wits, shaking his big head zle. truly, truly!” and he trulied himself from side to side with an exasperating air of across the darkness, to emerge in the light of man." learn the mass of machinery hoisted itself in the air as if it had a life of its own and had been stung into sudden madness. everybody's magazine the open door of the kitchen with the word greets me with a familiar speech or bit of still rumbling in his throat. nonsense, or an unseen orchestra may play now for a time there came the clinking of music that i know. from here i go into a dishes, sounds as of pans and kettles being spacious apartment where the air and light scoured, the rolling gutturals of old gaston, are of a fine clarity, for it is the hall of rev- the cook, and the treble pipings of young elations, and in it the secrets of secrets are “glouglou," his grandchild and scullion. told, mysteries are resolved, perplexities after a while the oblong of light from the cleared up, and sometimes i learn what to kitchen door disappeared; the voices departed; do about a picture that has bothered me. the stillness of the dark descended, and with this is where i would linger, for beyond it it that unreasonable sense of pathos which i walk among crowding fantasies, delusions, night in the country brings to the heart of a terrors and shame, to a curtain of darkness wanderer. then, out of the lonely silence, where they take my memory from me, and there issued a strange, incongruous sound as i know nothing of my own adventures until an execrable voice essayed to produce the i am pushed out of a secret door into the semblance of an air odiously familiar about morning sunlight. amédée was the ac- the streets of paris some three years past, quaintance who met me in the antechamber and i became aware of a smell of some dread- to-night. he remarked that madame d'ar- ful thing burning. beneath the arbor i mand was the most beautiful woman in perceived a spark which seemed to bear a the world, and vanished. and in the hall of certain relation to an oval whitish patch sug- revelations i thought that i found a statue gesting the front of a shirt. it was amédée, of her—but it was veiled. i wished to re- at ease, smoking his cigarette after the day's move the veil, but a passing stranger stopped work and convinced that he was singing. and told me laughingly that the veil was all that would ever be revealed of her to me- pour qu'j' finisse of her, or any other woman! mon service au tonkin je suis parti- ah ! quel beau pays, mesdames! c'est l' paradis des p'tites femmes ! chapter iv i rose from the chair on my little porch, i was up with the birds in the morning; to go to bed; but i was reminded of some- had my breakfast with them-a very drowsy- thing, and called to him. eyed amédée assisting-and made off for the “monsieur?” his voice came briskly. forest to get the sunrise through the branches, “how often do you see your friend, jean a pack on my back and three sandwiches for ferret, the gardener of quesnay?”. lunch in my pocket. i returned only with the “frequently, monsieur. to-morrow morn- failing light of evening, cheerfully tired and ing i could easily carry a message if — ". ready for a fine dinner and an early bed, “that is precisely what i do not wish. both of which the good inn supplied. it was and you may as well not mention me at all my daily program; a healthy life “far from when you meet him.” the world,” as amédée said, and i was sorry “it is understood. perfectly.” when the serpent entered and disturbed it, “if it is well understood, there will be a though he was my own. he is a pet of mine; beautiful present for a good maître d'hôtel has been with me since my childhood. he some day." leaves me when i live alone, for he loves “thank you, monsieur." company, but returns whenever my kind are “good night, amédée." about me. he is called interest-in-other- “good night, monsieur." people's-affairs. one evening i returned to find a big van falling to sleep has always been an intri- from dives, the nearest railway station, cate matter with me, and i liken it to a night drawn up in the courtyard at the foot of the ly adventure in an enchanted palace. weary- stairs leading to the gallery, and all of the limbed and with burning eyelids, after long people of the inn, from madame brossard waiting in the outer court of wakefulness, i (who directed) to glouglou (who madly at- enter a dim, cool antechamber where the tempted the heaviest pieces), busily installing heavy garment of the body is left behind and trunks, bags, and packing-cases in the suite where, perhaps, some acquaintance or friend engaged for the “great man of science" on the guest of quesnay the second floor of the left wing of the build- “have they come to seek out monsieur ing. neither the great man nor his com- and disturb him? have they done anything panion was to be seen, however, both having whatever to show that they have heard mon- retired to their rooms immediately upon their sieur is here?” arrival—so amédée informed me, as he “no, certainly they haven't,” i was obliged wiped his brow after staggering up the steps to retract at once. “i beg your pardon, under a load of books wrapped in sacking. amédée.” i made my evening ablutions, removing “ah, monsieur!” he made a deprecatory a joseph's coat of dust and paint; and came bow (which plunged me still deeper in shame), forth from my pavilion, hoping that professor struck a match, and offered a light for my keredec and his friend would not mind eat cigar with a forgiving hand. “all the same,'' ing in the same garden with a man in a cor-' he pursued, "it seems very mysterious—this duroy jacket and knickerbockers; but the keredec affair!” gentlemen continued invisible to the public “to comprehend a great man, amédée," eye, and mine was the only table set for din- i said, “is the next thing to sharing his great- ner in the garden. up-stairs the curtains ness." were carefully drawn across all the windows he blinked slightly, pondered a moment of the left wing; little leaks of orange, here upon this sententious drivel, then very prop- and there, betraying the lights within. glou- erly ignored it, reverting to his puzzle. glou, bearing a tray of covered dishes, was “but is it not incomprehensible that peo- just entering the salon of the “grande suite," ple should eat indoors this fine weather?” and the door closed quickly after him. i admitted that it was. i knew very well “it is to be supposed that professor ker- how hot and stuffy the salon of madame edec and his friend are fatigued with their brossard's “grande suite" must be, while journey from paris?” i began, a little later. the garden was fragrant in the warm, dry "monsieur, they did not seem fatigued,” night, and the outdoor air like a gentle tonic. said amédée. nevertheless, professor keredec and his “but they dine in their own rooms to friend preferred the salon. ... night." when a man is leading a very quiet and “every night, monsieur. it is the order isolated life, it is inconceivable what trifles of professor keredec. and with their own will occupy and concentrate his attention. valet-de-chambre to serve them. eh?” he the smaller the community, the more blowzy poured my coffee solemnly. “that is mys- with gossip you are sure to find it; and i have terious, to say the least, isn't it?” little doubt that when friday learned enough “to say the very least," i agreed. english, one of the first things crusoe did “monsieur the professor is a man of was to tell him some scandal about the goat. secrets, it appears,” continued amédée. thus, though i treated the “keredec affair" “when he wrote to madame brossard en with a seeming airiness to amédée, i cun- gaging his rooms, he instructed her to be ningly drew the faithful rascal out, and fed careful that none of us should mention even my curiosity upon his own (which, as time his name; and to-day when he came, he spoke went on and the mystery deepened, seemed of his anxiety on that point.” likely to burst him), until, virtually, i was “but you did mention it." receiving, every evening at dinner, a detailed "to whom, monsieur?” asked the old report of the day's doings of professor kere- fellow blankly. dec and his companion. “to me." the reports were voluminous, the details “but i told him i had not,” said amédée few. the two gentlemen, as amédée would placidly. “it is the same thing." relate, spent their forenoons over books and "i wonder," i began, struck by a sudden writing in their rooms. professor keredec's thought, “if it will prove quite the same voice could often be heard in every part of thing in my own case. i suppose you have the inn; at times holding forth with such pro- not mentioned the circumstance of my being tracted vehemence that only one explanation here to your friend, jean ferret of quesnav?” would suffice: that the learned man was de- he looked at me reproachfully. “has livering a lecture to his companion. monsieur been troubled by the people of the “say then!” exclaimed amédée, "what château?” kind of madness is that? to make orations ""troubled' by them?" for only one auditor!” everybody's magazine he swept away my suggestion that the turned after an hour or so, entering the inn auditor might be a stenographer to whom the with the same appearance of haste to be out professor was dictating chapters for a new of sight, the professor always talking, "with book. the relation between the two men, the manner of an orator, but in english.” he contended, was more like that between nevertheless amédée remarked it was certain teacher and pupil. “but a pupil with gray that professor keredec's friend was neither hair!” he finished, raising his fat hands to an american nor an englishman. heaven. “for that other monsieur has hair . “why is it certain ?" i asked. as gray as mine." “monsieur, he drinks nothing but water, "that other monsieur” was further de- he does not smoke, and glouglou says he scribed as a thin man, handsome, but with a speak's very pure french.” “singular air," nor could my colleague more “glouglou is an authority who resolves the satisfactorily define this air, though he made difficulty. that other monsieur is a french- a racking struggle to do so. man.” “in what does the peculiarity of his man- “but, monsieur, he is smooth-shaven." ner lie?” i asked. “perhaps he has been a maître d'hôtel.” “but it is not so much that his manner is “eh! i wish one that i know could hope peculiar, monsieur; it is an air about him to dress as well when he retires! besides, that is singular. truly!” glouglou says that other monsieur eats his “but how is it singular?” soup silently." “monsieur, it is very, very singular.” "i can find no flaw in the deduction,” i “you do not understand," i insisted. said, rising to go to bed. “we must leave “what kind of singularity has the air of it there for to-night.” 'that other monsieur'?” the next evening amédée allowed me to “it has," replied amédée, with a powerful perceive that he was concealing something effort, “a very singular singularity." under his arm as he stoked the coffee-ma- this was as near as he could come, and, chine, and upon my asking what it was, he fearful of injuring him, i abandoned that glanced round the courtyard with histrionic phase of our subject. slyness, placed the object on the table beside the valet-de-chambre whom my fellow my cap, and stepped back to watch the im- lodgers had brought with them from paris pression, his manner that of one who de- contributed nothing to the inn's knowledge claims: “at last the missing papers are be- of his masters, i learned. this struck me not fore you!” only as odd, but unique, for french servants “what is this?” i said. tell one another everything, and more-very “it is a book.” much more. “but this is a silent man,” “i am persuaded by your candor, amédée, said amédée impressively. “oh! very silent! as well as by the general appearance of this he shakes his head wisely, yet he will not article,” i returned as i picked it up, “that open his mouth. however, that may be be- you are speaking the truth. but why do cause”-and now the explanation came you bring it to me?" “because he was engaged only last week and “monsieur,” he replied, in the tones of an knows nothing. also, he is but temporary; old conspirator, “this afternoon the professor he returns to paris soon and glouglou is to and that other monsieur went as usual to walk serve them.” in the forest.” he bent over me, pretending i ascertained that although “that other to be busy with the coffee-machine, and low- monsieur” had gray hair, he was by no means ering his voice to a hoarse whisper. “when a person of great age; indeed, glouglou, who they returned, this book fell from the pocket had seen him oftener than any other of the of that other monsieur's coat as he ascended staff, maintained that he was quite young. the stair, and he did not notice. later i amédée's own opportunities for observation shall return it by glouglou, but i thought it had been limited. every afternoon the two wise that monsieur should see it for himself." gentlemen went for a walk; but they always the book was wentworth's “algebra”- came down from the gallery so quickly, he elementary principles. painful recollections declared, and, leaving the inn by a rear en- of my boyhood and the binomial theorem trance, plunged so hastily into the nearest rose in my mind as i let the leaves turn under by-path leading to the forest, that he caught my fingers. “what do you make of it?" i little more than glimpses of them. they re- asked. the baiting of rosenthal his tone became even more confidential. were two grown men-one an eminent psy- part of it, monsieur, is in english; that is chologist and the other a gray-haired youth plain. i have found an english word in it with a singular air-carrying about on their that i know, the word 'o' but much of the walks a text-book for the instruction of boys printing is also in arabic.” of thirteen or fourteen? “arabic!” i exclaimed. the next day that curiosity of mine was “yes, monsieur, look there.” he laid a piqued in earnest. it rained and i did not fat forefinger on “(a + b) -a + ab + b .” leave the inn, but sat under the great archway “ that is arabic. old gaston has been to al- and took notes in color of the wet road, geria, and he says that he knows arabic as drenched fields, and dripping skv. my back well as he does french. he looked at the was toward the courtyard, that is, “three book and told me it was arabic. truly! quarters” to it, and about noon i became truly!” distracted from my work by a strong self- “did he translate any of it for you?” consciousness which came upon me without “no, monsieur, his eyes pained him this any visible or audible cause. obeying an afternoon. he says he will read it to-mor impulse, i swung round on my camp-stool row." and looked up directly at the gallery window “but you must return the book to of the salon of the “grande suite.” a man night.” with a great white beard was standing at the "that is true. eh! it leaves the mystery window, half hidden by the curtain, watching deeper than ever, unless monsieur can find me intently. some clue in those parts of the book that are. he perceived that i saw him and dropped english." the curtain immediately, a speck of color in i shed no light upon him. the book had his buttonhole catching my eve as it fell. been greek to me in my tender years; it was the spy was professor keredec. a pleasure now to leave a fellow being under but why should he study me so slyly and the impression that it was arabic. but the yet so obviously? i had no intention of in- volume took its little revenge upon me, for truding upon him. nor was i a psycholog- it increased my curiosity about professor ical “specimen,” though i began to suspect keredec and “that other monsieur.” why that “that other monsieur” was. the second instalment of mr. tarkington's story, “the guest of quesnay," will appear in the december number. the baiting of rosenthal by henry c. rowland illustrations by george wright the feud between klein and rosenthal had begun in buenos ayres over adèle tremont, the singer. klein was at tached to the german legation and little more than a boy; isidor rosenthal was a czechian jew who had got rich in various west indian schemes, from the lending of money on a pearl shirt-stud to the financing of revolutions. to escape rosenthal, klein resigned his office and escorted miss tremont to rio. rosenthal, persistent in love as in finance, followed them, for he knew that klein did not have money enough to retain the lady's interest for any length of time. klein knew it also and it made him desperate, especially as rosenthal was too good a man of business to fight when all that he had to do was to wait. the jew was not afraid; it was simply that the dueling idea was not framed on sound commercial principles. the result was that klein waited for his chance and publicly insulted him at the club, pulled his nose, and then, when the jew brushed him aside with one sweep of his great arm, threw a glass of wine in his face. he spent the rest of the day in his hammock. even then rosenthal would not fight, but consigner; he went at once to the health neither would he leave the lists; he continued officer of the port and told him that he hap- his not entirely unwelcome attentions to miss pened to know that there was smallpox in tremont. this kept klein in so furious a aquin, where the coffee had been taken on. state of impotent rage that the lady became the sloop was quarantined, pending investi- frightened and accepted an invitation from gation, and before her captain could procure the count stigiliano to go to jamaica in his a tug to pump, the water reached the cargo, yacht. which promptly swelled and burst the vessel rosenthal, with a sardonic grin, threw up open, thereby costing klein about ten thou- his hand and got back to business, while sand dollars. klein, almost ruined, and, if the truth were when the whole story got to klein's ears, known, heart-broken, for he was very young, he turned as white as chalk and the pupils german, and had really loved the woman, of his eyes grew so large that one could see was prevented from suicide only by the de- only a rim of blue the breadth of a knife's sire to be revenged upon rosenthal. edge. then he got purple and the pupils eventually he accepted a position as agent contracted to pin-points, while the blue eyes of the hamburg line and was sent to grand themselves became glazed like the eyes of goâves, haiti, where he settled down to ex- a dead pompano. a teuton blood-rage, la- port coffee and cacao and brood over the tent since the cycle of stone clubs and great day when he should square his account with cave-bears, seethed up in him and shook him rosenthal, who, he learned, had taken his until he grew sick and giddy. he spent the invalid brother jacob to capri. rest of the day in his hammock, his eyes band- rosenthal's hatred was of the sardonic aged and a negress fanning him. his phy- sort that goes with a bare-toothed grin and a sique could not stand the strain of such a twinkle of the eyes that is mostly gleam; rage as his enemy's act had stirred within nevertheless it was potent, as potent as him. klein's, and much more effective. a year t he following day all emotion had van- later he scored against his enemy. ished and klein's german brain began to klein had loaded a sloop with coffee, on calculate. to his surprise he found that he his own account, and sent her to curaçao, could think of rosenthal quite unemotion- where the cargo was to be transshipped to an ally. klein's problem was a difficult one. italian boat with a low freight tariff. rosen- he did not want to murder the jew; killing thal happened to be in the dutch colony a man is a poor sort of revenge at best. on when the sloop arrived, leaking badly from the other hand, klein did not see how he the straining received in a rough passage. could do rosenthal physical damage. the the water was gaining on the pumps and jew would not duel and he stood six feet the captain was frightened, for he knew that two, weighing about two hundred pounds, if it once reached the coffee, all would be up most of which was heavy bone covered with with vessel and cargo. the news reached great bands of sinewy muscle. his lean rosenthal, together with the name of the wrist was as thick as klein's forearm, and he the baiting of rosenthal could have squeezed the life out of the highly thick mustache went up, and he bared his strung little german with one of his hairy yellow fangs in an expansive grin. paws; also he was far too rich for klein to “py jingo!” he exclaimed, for he usually harm in any business way. made it a point to speak the language that klein was unable to find a solution, but he was being spoken about him, “it is my old decided that his best chance lay in keeping frendt, mr. klein!” near his enemy. he learned that rosenthal like rosenthal, klein spoke most of the was in caracas, so he went there, only to hear languages with which the powers have that the jew had run over to colon to dis- crammed the west indies, so he answered in pose of some margarita pearls bought from english, and their conversation proceeded in a dutch negro, who did a sort of kite business that tongue. among the pearl pelicans having illicit gems “so ...! it is our practical joker, isidor to dispose of. so klein took the next steamer rosenthal!” from porto cabello to cartagena and thence a flash of surprise crossed the mocking to colon. face of the jew. he had not looked for so the day of his arrival he saw rosenthal much sang-froid in the young german. he boarding the train for panama, so klein made room beside him. followed. the car was packed with tour “will you not share my seat? ah, you ists from the royal mail steamer, who were have reference to that matter of the coffee! making an excursion to see the canal; and py jingo! i acted very badly! i afterward in the crowd klein, who was slender and was ashamed of myself ... because, you polite, found himself jammed against his en- see, i gave way to an impulse . . . and had emy's back. a man in a seat beside them not a dollar to gain by it!” vacated it to join a friend ahead; rosenthal “it did not much matter," said klein. slid into the seat, then looked up and saw he sat down beside the jew and pulled a klein. his bushy, black evebrows and his colon star from his pocket. “the stuff even then rosenthal would not fight. everybody's magazine did not belong to me, although it was in my “do you want a receipt?” he asked. name. i was acting for a friend--a dr. “oh, no,” said the jew. “if leyden was leyden.” willing to trust you, i can.” he made an- rosenthal started upright; his big yellow other wry face. “let us talk of something teeth came together with a crack, and he swore else.” a violent czechian oath beneath his breath. klein pocketed the money with an odd “leyden! my good friend leyden! there, feeling of chagrin. the passion of his re- what an ass a man can make of himself venge seemed suddenly to have been cooled by a blind impulse! that little joke will without being in any measure satisfied, and cost me . . . how much? what did he lose? he felt himself defrauded. presently he he shall have back every dollar! leyden reached into his pocket and pulled out his once saved the life of the little jacob ... wallet. my brother!” “here,” he said to rosenthal, “take your klein glanced at the jew in surprise. he filthy money. i lied to you. the coffee had lied instinctively, as one does to conceal belonged to me. leyden had nothing what- a hurt given by an enemy. rosenthal's big, ever to do with it." savage face was seamed with lines of the most rosenthal sta red; his great, muddy, hazel unutterable chagrin. he continued to swear eyes, shot with brown spots, opened wide; softly to himself. the bushy eyebrows went up, the big mouth klein made pretense of reading his paper. fell open. without a word, his hairy paw went his eyes followed the english words while out unconsciously for the notes; and, still his ears gathered in rosenthal's self-revilings. staring, he folded them and tucked them into klein's brain was working rapidly in german. his pocket as if acting under a reflex. then gentle-born though he was, all principles all at once expression swept into his wolfish of honor were dead in him where his enemy face, and he threw back his head and roared was concerned. he wondered at the jew's with laughter. gullibility. rosenthal was, as a matter of “py jingo, but you aristocrats are funny! fact, a keen judge of human nature. his you tell me a lie to save your pride; then, estimate of klein was of a man too proud to still to save it, you pay $ , for the privi- stoop to levantine methods, and this was a lege of telling the truth! ha, ha, ha! ..." true estimate had klein been in his normal klein sat stiff as a ramrod. his face was condition. very pale and all of his former hate and re- “look here,” rosenthal said suddenly, pugnance welled up until it came near to “how much did that little joke of mine suffocating him. he had bought back his cost?" blood-lust in full measure. “a little less than ten thousand dollars,” “py jiminy!” said rosenthal when his said klein. ' “the boat was chartered, and laughter had subsided, “i would like to give so the loss of her fell upon the captain.” you back this money! it would spoil a good "and serve him right!” snarled rosen- joke, but still i would like to give it back; thal. “he had no business to load a valua- but,” he looked searchingly at klein, “i do ble cargo into a rotten vessel!” he made a not believe that you would take it. you wry face. “py jingo, but a too keen şense would rather get square on your own hook, of humor can be expensive! ha . . .!” he scowled, then plunged his hand into his klein looked out of the window without pocket and pulled out a roll of crisp amer- answering. he was reflecting curiously on ican bank-notes. “leyden is too good a the fact that the jew's sense of injury done fellow to have suffer. i owe him now more and received referred entirely to the mone- than i can ever pay for his efforts with the tary loss of the coffee. the matter of miss little jacob!” tremont and the affront rendered by klein klein watched him in amazement as he were apparently unworthy of consideration. peeled off ten notes for $ , each and “yes,” said rosenthal, nodding vigorous- handed them to him. ly, “that was a nasty act of mine. i acted “give these to leyden,” he said, “and tell on impulse. i considered that you would him that, if he likes, he can add six per cent have done as much for me. you wanted to interest for the loss of his profit.” kill me, and i wanted to ruin you. each one in a state of bewilderment klein thrust to his taste. you hold that a man's money the money into his wallet. is no good to him without his life, and i that yes?” everybody's magazine his life is even less than no good without money. it all comes to the same thing." “then you value your money more than you do your life?” klein asked. “by no means. it is not a question of values but of what hurts one the most, the loss of life or of money. i claim the latter, because one has longer to think about it. the loss of life is all over in a minute, like the blowing out of a candle ... pouf!” and rosenthal puffed his hairy cheeks and nearly blew the hat from the head of the woman tourist in front of them., “i suppose," said klein, “that to a man like you the loss of money gives an almost physical distress.” rosenthal grinned. “it hurts,” he ad- mitted, “but very much it depends upon how it is done. if i gamble and lose it hurts, but not much if the game has been a fair one. but if i were to lose and discover af- terward that i had been tricked . . . ach gottl . . . py jingo! that would be terri- ble! that happened to me once . . . that i was befooled, and it made me sick ... sick to vomiting, and afterward i had such an attack of the liver that i had to go to carlsbad for a cure.” when they parted in panama, rosenthal clapped klein on the shoulder and said: "when you want that $ , back, you have only to ask for it. it is nothing to me. i make it in a day, but you aristocrats are children in business beside us jews!” he gave his harsh, explosive laugh, and just for a second the blood surged up into klein's temples, while the gale of hatred that swept through him gave him an instant of giddiness. that revealed a set of perfect teeth. “a de- lightful evening, is it not?" he seated him- self in an embrasure facing klein. “it is very pleasant," said the german stiff- ly. he rose to his feet with a nod and turned away. “pray do not go,” said the other. “let us indulge in a little discourse. are we not both in the same predicament ... alone?” “but i do not find it a predicament,” said klein coldly. “ah, then you are not blessed with my social nature. i am of those who, like abou- ben-adhem, asks only to be written as one who loves his fellow men.” klein paused and glanced at him curi- ously. the man's face was weak but intelli- gent. klein's eyes dropped to the hands, which were moving nervously. they were fat, but graceful as a girl's, with supple, taper- ing fingers, carefully kept. they were hands with an expression, albeit not a pleasing one; a something suggesting technical skill of a furtive sort; the hands of a pickpocket, a safe- breaker, or a prestidigitator. the man observed klein's scrutiny and smiled. his voice lost its suave formality and assumed a vulgar tone. “you're tryin' to dope me out by my fins," he said. “well, pard, what am i?” klein flushed. “a barber?” he asked. “not quite," said the man. “i'll tell ye. my name's blake an' i'm a sleight-o’-hand artist. card tricks 're my specialty." his face grew eager. “for ten dollars, my frien', or even five dollars, i can put you next to a trick that will enable you to limit your gains an' losses in poker, euchre, or écarté only by the amount of money that your helpless ad- versary is willing to stake!” t he fellow's voice returned to the pseudo- educated drawl of the “gentleman grafter." klein's lip curled in disgust and he stepped back. “i am not interested,” he said. “i never play cards. good day.” “say, just wait a minute!” cried blake. “let me show you something . . . just for fun!” he whipped a greasy pack of cards from his pocket and stepped to the broad rampart, where he seated himself. klein lingered unwillingly. “you know écarté?” asked blake, shuf- fling. “well, then, let's deal a few hands just as if we were sittin' in a little game, and if you pipe anything phony i'll chuck the cards into the wet an' apply for a job loadin' klein spent several days in panama, but got no nearer the solution of his problem. he saw rosenthal often and discovered that the jew gambled every evening with one of his friends in the hotel marina, where he was quartered. so, to be nearer him, klein went to the same hotel. then one day opportunity walked up to him with smooth steps. he was sitting on the ramparts of the old fort watching the pelicans diving for fish, when there ap- proached a bland and unctuous individual with the look and manner of an itinerant evangelist. he was long-haired, smooth- shaven, and bulbous with the pallid fat that adversity seems to put upon some men. he stopped on reaching klein. “good afternoon,” he said, with a smile the baiting of rosenthal flat-cars in culebra. then i'll lay down a blake's flabby face was doubtful. few cold poker hands, and if after that you “oh, i guess if i was sure—” he began. feel like buyin' ten dollars' worth of useful “once or twice i've sat opposite some guy education in the tin-horn line, i bet you'll like myself and put it all over him; but then never be sorry!” i'd want to be dead sure," he added. “any- klein found himself listening to and way, that kind of a man ain't apt to play for watching a remarkable card trickster. each much.” of the man's supple fingers seemed to possess “are you known at all here in panama ?” a separate intelligence. he could pick a card asked klein, his blue eyes beginning to gleam. from the top of the pack with the back of “no; i just got in last night, busted. his hand, hold and play ten cards as though slung dishes down here from san diego.” there were but five, while on the draw he “i will make you a proposition," said could apparently get any cards necessary to klein. “it is the chance of your lifetime. "fill." all of the while he kept up a running there is a man in this city, a big jew named conversation, the tone of which lapsed in a rosenthal, who has caused me to lose a great peculiar way from that of the man of com- deal of money. he is a gambler, very rich, parative education to that of the cheap, bar- and willing to play for almost any stake. room gambler, or suddenly assumed the he is big and black and fierce-looking, but stilted expressions and popular slang of the he will not fight. i pulled his nose and threw side-show “barker.” klein was alternately a glass of wine in his face and he took it interested, repelled, and amused. the crea- before a roomful of players. now i will ture seemed formless as a jelly-fish in all but stake you with $ , . we can play to- his marvelous craft. gether in the hotel marina, where he comes “but i do not understand!” cried the ger every evening, and you can appear to win man, when blake had finished. “why do all of my money at écarté and then he will you for ten dollars teach men to swindle one want to play with you and you can taunt him another when you might gain thousands by into playing for very large stakes. i will swindling them yourself?” give you half of all that you win until my blake smiled and his shifting glance fell. share has reached $ , , which is the “well, pard," said he, “to tell you the amount that he cost me. after that you can truth, i haven't got the nerve." keep for yourself all that you make; and the “what do you mean?”. more that is, the better it will please me.” “just that. when i've got a deck in my blake listened with his eyes upon his hands for exhibition purposes, i'm right at cards. once or twice he lifted them in a home; i defy any one to get wise; but the quick, shifting glance to the german's face, minute i sit in a game i lose my sand. i then dropped them again. get shaky and nervous, and if i ain't careful “humph!” said he, when klein had fin- i give the whole graft away, especially if i'm ished. “it sounds all right, but how do you leary of my crowd, if i think that maybe know he'll play up?" he shuffled the cards there's a gun man in the bunch. twice i've nervously. got mauled so's i could have passed myself “because," said klein, "he has the repu- on the street without recognition, and once tation of being the most daring gambler in the i was nearly killed . .. but that ain't any west indies-at cards, that is. he is too lack of skill,” he added eagerly; “it's jest clever to play the wheel or faro or any game becuz i'm a soft-hearted grafter and wise where the odds are against him.” enough to know it. i could put you next “you're dead sure he's sandless?” asked so's you could win thousands, becuz you ’re a blake suspiciously. “you ain't lettin' me in nervy proposition. any fool could see that.” for no rough-house?” his flaccid face was klein did not at once answer; he was think- filled with distrust. ing deeply. presently he turned to blake. “no," said klein. “i believe that he has "you say that you are afraid,” he said courage enough, but he will not fight; it is with a tinge of contempt; “but what if you not his nature.” were playing a two-handed game with a man “where's your money?” asked blake who you knew would not employ violence, sulkily. who, if he discovered you, would simply de- “here is a thousand in my pocket," said mand his money back and call you a few klein, "and drafts up to the value of ten hard names? would that affect your skill?” thousand." “let me alone!" he shrieked. “let me go!" blake began to lick his dry lips. watched idly until at the end of the game “let's walk along a spell," he said. “i they saw klein shove a fifty-dollar bill toward sort of want to think it over. ...". his opponent; then their backs straightened and they watched with interest. in a spacious stone-walled room of the old presently a heavy tread sounded on the hotel marina, with the lap of water under stairs, and klein thrust his foot against neath the window and the strum of a guitar blake's. rosenthal came in, glanced about coming faintly from somewhere in the murky the room with his wolfish glare, and his distance, klein and the card trickster sat at eyes lighted as they fell on klein sitting at a table and played their profitless game. play with the sleek-faced stranger. presently some loungers entered and “py jiminy!” muttered the jew, and the baiting of rosenthal walked up to the table. “ecarté? for how much?” neither of the players answered. “fifty dollars a game!" whispered a man. “py jingo! that is not a bad game," said rosenthal, and set himself to watch. as a game of écarté takes but a few minutes to play, the stake was a high one. klein and blake played on, klein losing steadily. a few others drifted in to watch the play. at ten o'clock klein had appar ently lost over $ . the poor light was favorable to blake, who manipulated the cards for practise under the eyes of the spec- tators. although the game was but a blind, klein's sensitive nature reflected the tension of the crowd. his face was pale, his pupils dilated, and he sipped nervously at the glass of beer at his elbow. no one would have believed that the play was only a lure. at twelve o'clock klein turned a pallid face toward his opponent. he had lost, as it ap- peared, $ , . he drew out his wallet and laid down his losings in ten bank-notes of $ each. “mr. blake,” he said, “this is practically all of the money that i have at my disposal. honor will not permit me to continue a game the losses of which i might be unable to pay." a murmur ran around the room. rosen- thal gurgled. “he played his hands like a schoolboy," he whispered harshly. “he does not know how to discard. ecarté is all in the draw." blake, an able actor, shifted uneasily in his chair, chewing the end of his cigar. “oh, well,” he said, “i don't like to clean out a good sport. you had darned bad luck, mr. klein. ...” he reached for klein's money, then thrust toward him a fifty-dollar bill. “i always leave a man a stake,” he said with boorish generosity. “panama's a poor place to go broke in ... hey, boys?” he glanced at the crowd. "he's all right," said a voice from some- where. rosenthal, his big face working with eager- ness, leaned over the table. to fleece a man like klein seemed to the world-wise jew like tearing money from a child. keen observer that he was and schooled in human character, he read blake's face at its real value, and it cut him to his semitic soul to see so weak a vessel taking money from a novice. “would you like to play a little more?” he asked. “it is a good game, écarté.” blake glanced at his watch. “not to- night, thanks,” he answered with a yawn. “too late, ’n’ i got to go out to culebra to- morrow. i'm a contractor, you know,” he continued with a clever imitation of a bibu- lous confidence which embraced the roomful. “i come down here to make a bid on movin’ dirt out o' the big ditch." “it is not very late,” said rosenthal; “only twelve o'clock.” blake yawned, then looked the jew over with a slow indifference that would have been insulting to a dog. “oh, well,” he said, with another yawn, “i don't mind playing for an hour more ... that is, if you want to play for something." he looked again at rosenthal as though to assay him socially and financially. “you people,” he said, with an easy inference of the man's unmistakable race, “don't like to lose your money very well. better let it alone, m’ friend. you're up against an old hand.” the blood rushed into rosenthal's fierce, mephistophelian face; his huge black eye- brows were drawn down over his odd hazel eyes with their dark-brown dots. in his anger his accent lapsed. “mein gott !” he burst out. “i vill play you for a t'ousand a game if you like!” blake laughed sneeringly. “that's nearer my figure,” he said; “i wish you had it.” “i vill show you vhat i have," snarled the jew. “it is easy to see you are a stranger in the west indies. do you know who i am?" he threw out his great chest. “i am isidor rosenthal.” blake summoned all of his rabbit's courage to give vent to a sneering laugh. the aspect of the big jew was alarming. the red blood burned through his swarthy skin; his face was such as a master sculptor might have cut in half a dozen deep gashes; fierce, dominant, savage, almost demoniac. the whole torso was tense, big deltoids bunching under his black mohair coat, forearms putting the sleeves upon the stretch, and his brown, gem- laden fists cracking as he clenched them. blake admirably hid his fright; his flaccid face was white and his eyes had the look of a child about to be chastised; vet the man was an actor, an artist in all but spirit, and he was playing for a big stake. he summoned all of his feeble courage to brazen the thing out. “oh, well,” he said, shuffling the cards, “i'll play with you for a thousand a game if everybody's magazine you like. i guess your money is as good as it back untouched. he threw the cards upon anybody's, if you've got it with you. i the table and they cut for deal, rosenthal thought maybe you had it all lent out at cutting high, which in écarté makes the deal. eighteen and a half per cent.” “for how much?” asked blake as rosen- a ripple of nervous laughter went around thal dealt three, then two, cards to each. the room. rosenthal, his yellow teeth shin- the jew shrugged. “for what you like," ing, reached in his pocket and hauled out a he said; then before laying down the trump bulging wallet. klein gazed at him in amaze- glared at the trickster from under his black ment. not when he had pulled his nose in eyebrows. “did i not hear you say some- the club at rio had the jew's face ex- thing about a thousand a game?”. hibited such ferocity. then a boy was try blake gulped in his dry throat. ing to taunt him into a silly act; here a craven "i... i'm game,” he answered huskily. hearted gentile was daring him to stand “good,” said rosenthal, and they began forth armed with the jew's own weapon, to play. money, and fight him on his own field, the. the jew was a born gambler; he played field of chance. . honestly but with an acumen that discounted “you are right," snarled rosenthal, “it cheap trickery; but blake, although no true is all out at interest, but i still carry with me gambler, was no cheap trickster. he was a little with which to amuse myself of an a master of legerdemain, and his manipula- evening.” tion of the cards while playing with klein he began to peel off bills of $ each; still under the eyes of the jew had given him deeper he came to the five hundreds, all with confidence. the flourish of a ringmaster and a swing that rosenthal, for all his experience in games should show those present what he held in his of chance, did not suspect his adversary. hands. the man was in his element. he his instincts were keen as those of a woman loved to show his money; not in horses nor or a wild animal. he felt blake's lack of yachts nor railroads nor ships, but concretely, force and the resulting contempt blinded stamped in official type upon negotiable paper. him to the danger in the man. an experi- he gloried in the dazzling effect of absolute ence of many years had taught him to asso- money, whether it crackled or rang or scintil- ciate clever trickery with cool nerve. lated from the facet of a stone. rosenthal won the first game and took a quiver ran through blake at the sight of $ , from blake. the trickster's odds the naked money so shamelessly bared by were two to one; he might win on the jew's the jew, but it was a quiver of fright rather deal; if he willed it so, he was certain to win than of lust. klein caught the weakening on his own. yet with these odds in his favor flicker on blake's face and kicked him under his face was ashen and bathed in sweat; and the table. it was like putting the spur tó an this, too, was, as far as appearance went, all able but poor-spirited hunter confronted by a in his favor, for rosenthal chuckled inwardly brush fence. blake began to shuffle the cards. at the trepidation of his adversary. rosen- “all right,” he said, a bit tremulously; thal himself was entirely honest. he could be “when you get through waving that dough cruel, cunning, and remorseless as a weasel, around the room i'll give you a run for some as in the matter of klein's coffee, but he had of it; only”—he leaned over and reached out never stolen a cent in his life, nor had he his fat, gracile hand—“let's have a look at needed to do so with his genius for money- one of those big uns, pardner.” getting it was a master insult. rosenthal grew the game went on. blake, cheating only white about the lips and just for a second when it became necessary, began to take blake's fat throat was dangerously near the thousand after thousand from the tew. grip of the jew's strong fingers. but rosen- rosenthal's savage features became set in thal was a man of the world. a puzzled scowl. perhaps because of confi- “py jingo!” he cried, “i see you are not dence in his own skill, or because of some used to playing with real money. here” subtle instinct, before long he became sus- he tossed the entire roll to blake-"examine picious. he began to watch, not openlı, them all; i will not even count them when but with the baffling intentness of a cat they come back.” drowsing before a stove and peering through his thick lips parted in a dog-toothed the slits of her eves at a rat-hole across grin. blake glanced at the roll, then thrust the room. he looked less and less at the the baiting of rosenthal trickster; he appeared to be concentrating "no," said rosenthal, "you are a fool to every faculty upon his own play in a des- play. you have not the nerve for a gam- perate effort to recoup; yet his eyes, shifting bler, my frendt, even with gentiles! but to and slanting under their bushy black eye- play with a jew who is afraid to lose his brows, did not miss the minutest detail in the money and does not vant to stake much movements of blake's hands, and the trick- on a game . . . that is all right!” and again ster, conscious of this close scrutiny in some the harshlaugh crashed out. rosenthal impalpable way peculiar to gamblers, stopped leaned forward across the table until his cheating. bearded face was less than a foot from that klein, closely watching the man, saw that of the trickster. something was amiss, for blake was becom “i tell you vat we do!” he rasped out; ing frightened and could feel his assurance "we cannot afford to waste all of this time oozing from every pore. there was some for not'ing. we play one little game for ten subile emanation from the half-tamed hebrew t'ousand dollars and stop!” that seemed to paralyze in the trickster all of blake reached in his pocket and drew out the quickness of mind and hand necessary a bandanna handkerchief, with which he to the deception that he practised. it was mopped his humid face. under the table simply that his weak will was squeezed of its klein was crushing his foot beneath his own, feeble essence by the dominant vital force of but blake did not feel it. his brain was the jew. rosenthal himself felt in some whirling; he pulled himself together with vague way his growing ascendency, and his difficulty. it seemed as if the jew had merciless strength began to swell within him. played directly into his hand in his daring blake had been cheating but rarely, when proposal. blake was holding the cards; it ever it was necessary to make a gradual gain, was only necessary for him to shuffle, fling but the knowledge that he could win at any them upon the table to cut for deal . .. and time had given him confidence and helped he knew that he would cut high. then he his game. now, with the scant nerve wrung would deal, and once the cards were in his from him, he began to falter and to play in a trained hands there could be no question of dazed way, gray in the face, blue about the his winning if-if-if he could summon the lips, the dew standing in drops under the nerve to do his part! long, straight hair falling over his forehead, he drew a deep breath; klein was still while his mild, dishonest eyes were filled with crushing his foot beneath his own, and all at the pained expression one sees in the eyes of once blake felt the pain of it and the faintest a sheep in the shambles. klein watched him tinge of color crept into his flaccid face. with a nauseated loathing. “all right,” he said with a gulp. “here game by game the score drifted back to she goes then for ten thousand! you're a its starting-point and presently a sigh went better sport than i took ye for, frien?!" he up from the watchers when, after such a began to shuffle with the beautiful and uncon- juggling of fortune as few of them had ever scious dexterity of the accomplished card- seen before, a game won by the jew brought player. rosenthal nodded and dropped his the players back to their original positions. eyes from his opponent's face to the pack ... rosenthal brought his big fist down upon and blake felt the prying glance of the jew the table with a blow that made the floor spraying his hands like a tongue of icy flame. tremble. he threw the cards upon the table and “mein gott!” he roared. “py jiminy! they cut. blake cut a king; he was taking a full hour we play and i lose eighteen t'ou- no chances; on this final game he was pre- sand and win it back again; and i have such pared to accept suspicion if only he could excitements as alone are vort' all the money avoid detection. he gathered up the cards, on the table, and my frendt here is nearly threw them together, shuffled rapidly but dead of heart disease, and the color of fresh with infinite care, and had commenced to caviar ar-roundt his mout—and all wit' deal, when something happened. noting done!” no one knew just what it was, not even blake leaned back in his chair. “i guess rosenthal, whose eyes were like those of a that's about enough,” he said feebly, and his lynx; nevertheless, in the high tension of the face was that of an old man. “my heart moment the knowledge that something was ain't so good as it might be, and i can't stand amiss flashed around the table like an electric much nervous excitement.” current. only blake knew that he had copyright, , by j. a. millar. miss giulia morosini, she wears princess gowns adorned with diamond buttons, and extends her love of rich garniture to her horses. the ladies dames anse by gertrude lynck “ next to the gentleman's game of hunting, we must put the ladies' game of dressing. it is not the cheapest of games.”—ruskin. coralie and i have been friends for fails to impress me. not that coralie had years. indeed, our intimacy began ever been the ugly duckling of the fairy story long ago in a certain new england village, far from it; but her painstaking mind and when, as small girls, we occupied adjoining her studious industry had seemed to promise desks at school. that little jennie b— . for her a future no more brilliant than the no, after all, i won't disclose coralie's iden- normal school and a teacher's career. what tity-should have developed into the most passed for providence intervened, however, famous, the most successful, and, perhaps and now our paths lie far apart. for the crowning distinction, the most expensive profession by which i exist has forced me to dressmaker in new york, is a fact that never deal critically with those very frailties f everybody's magazine modern life to which it is coralie's business to known presence, past tables shining with glass cater. yet, sometimes, i am inclined to think and silver and crowned with roses and or- that, in her shrewd way, my friend is really chids as if for some rite. gay hats nodded the better observer, the keener critic. like more splendid flowers under the droop- it was shortly after her latest visit to the ing palms, jewels flashed in the radiance of a shops of london, paris, berlin, and vienna hundred shaded lights, and the deep pulse of that i accepted coralie's invitation to dine violins, played in a waltz, throbbed through with her at sherry's on a sunday evening. the murmur of many voices. we glided along fifth avenue in a smart the impression was of a very abandon of little electric brougham — coralie's latest luxury. “extravagance, extravagance!” i acquisition, fresh proof of her success—past exclaimed almost involuntarily, as we sat dimly lighted houses, palaces in size and sug- looking about. “think, if you dare, how gestion. sharper nebulæ of light ſell beneath much money there is in this room in mere the raised shades of great windows in the clothes! where do you suppose it all comes pretentious hotels that seemed to punctuate from? it's overwhelming!" the street like exclamation points. within “extravagance?” coralie picked up the were glimpses of gay colors, white shirt fronts, word defensively. “yes, but it's new york, confusion and feasting. everywhere there remember. here's where the wealth of the was a crowd; for nation centers; it was the dinner here's where the hour on new greatest fortunes york's favorite are; why not then night for dining the most lavish ex- abroad. penditure? it's a we waited our matter of re- turn in the mov- lations." ing line of motors she paused to and carriages that look at a group of stretched along persons about to the avenue and seat themselves at into forty-fourth the square table street, like the next to our own. curve of some there were six- splendid serpent three men and with eyes of fire. three women. the we left our former classified brougham at the themselves, in entrance of the res- their well-groomed taurant. the soft sleekness, their path of carpet pride of posses- brought us up the sion, and their air steps and within of imperturbabili- the doors, and we ty, as types of the stood for a mo- new yorker of ment, our wraps club and wall taken from us as street manufac- if by magic, to sur- ture. the women, vey the kaleido- all of them gowned scopic groups of with studied and men and women luxurious elabora- in the great en- tion, had given my trance hall. we companion smiles threaded our way of recognition. photograph by j. a. millar. under the guid- dropping her ance of a head made for miss morosini. it is lavishly embellished by sequins jeweled lorgnette, waiter to whom coralie turned coralie's is a well- again to me. “i a $ , costume put on by hand and represents several months' labor. “ the ladies' game” can't tell you where the money all comes from,” she said, “but how much is spent on the clothes we see here—that is my subject. i know about clothes. take these people next us, to begin with. they are all cus- tomers of mine in a way. that woman with the gray hair, who is helping her husband order dinner, has been coming to me for years.” i raised my eyes to a vision in nile green crêpe de chine. panels of white chiffon, charm- ingly embroidered with jet and opalescent beads, followed the princess lines of the gown from throat to train. the elbow sleeves were finished with ruf- fles of rare italian lace, and garnitures of pearls and opals were cunningly introduced. the gown suited its owner to perfection-a woman neither young nor old-in whom the grace of youth and the dignity of middle age had met. “that costume came from my house." coralie was saying. “i am rather pleased with it” -a note of professional satis- faction colored her tone—"and it cost mrs. c— exactly $ . i consider her a very well- dressed woman, by the way, and not extravagant—as extravagance goes. she always gets the worth of her money; and if one has the money and chooses to spend it, what matters! i don't believe her bills for clothes come to more than $ , or $ , a year." “twenty thousand dollars a year! seven hundred dollars for a frock!” "don't be alarmed,” coralie's hand waved back the interruption; "that is noth- ing unusual! the perfectly plain, perfectly simple, doucet gown that mrs. c— 's sister —the young girl nearest us—is wearing, didn't cost a penny less than $ , over here; and i'm inclined to think that the other woman she's worth $ , , in her own right, i'm told-paid rather more for her gown of point venise ; it came from maurice meyer's. and there are a dozen gowns of the same sort in this room. there's a woman over there— mrs. m— , whose wardrobe, it is said, con- mrs. alfred gwynne vanderbilt and some friends at the hollywood horse show. mrs. vanderbilt dresses siinply, and her costume, including hat and parasol, probably did not cost over $ . the gowns worn by her companions cost several times that amount. tains over three hundred gowns! she declared in a newspaper interview that she spent $ , a year for her clothes! “that seems excessive, even to me,” co- ralie ran on, “but i know the possibilities. for instance, i was in the house of the three callat sisters in paris only last year, and i saw, with my own eyes, a new york wcinan order twenty-five gowns for the season. i know the prices charged there, and those gowns couldn't have cost less than $ apiece. that represents the average for such women as are here to-night much more nearly than mrs. m— 's $ , ; yes, and the average for gatherings such as this in other great capitals, too. for there is no truth in the common notion that american women dress more extravagantly than those of any other nation. it may be that more american women dress well, but extravagance is an interna- tional characteristic, not merely national. everybody's magazine trips to paris costumers. oh, it's a mistake, believe me, to suppose that the wives of american millionaires are the sole support of the rue de la paix." coralie paused, smiling at her own ear- nestness in defense of her countrywomen. “but i must give you more facts," she be- gan again, “since $ seemed to you so astounding a sum for one frock. what will you think when i tell you that a woman who wishes the name of being well dressed, as fashion knows the term, must have at least five or six of these imported costumes; also an equal number of domestic afternoon and evening dresses and of tailor-made gowns. there must be an appropriate hat for every out-of-door gown; and these cost anywhere from $ to $ or $ apiece. in sum- mer, a fashionable woman must have forty or fifty lingerie gowns, ranging from the cobweb of lace to the simple mull, costing not more mrs. harry brooks sargeant, at the casino at deal beach, in an embroidered gown which, with the hat, could not have cost less than $ . and i believe that wealthy russian women, at least, spend rather more on clothes than do americans. their furs alone cost fortunes. once on the train going from st. petersburg to paris i noticed a party of russian women all wearing coats of sable, and not one of those coats, i am sure, could have cost less than $ , . in berlin, the same winter, the manager of a great dressmaking house told me that he had been at infinite pains, really scouring europe, to get an extra sable skin to match some others used in the trim- ming of a gown ordered by a south american. for that skin alone he had to charge his customer $ , ! that's not an exceptional illustration of extravagance among south americans, either. from rio janeiro and buenos ayres the women make their annual mrs. herman p. tappÉ and mrs. e. v. hartford, a hand-embroidered linen gown such as the one mrs. tappe wears will cost $ , while her hat probably cost between $ and $ . mrs. hartford appears in a lingerie princess gown showing elaborate hand. work, which cost in the neighborhood of $ , “the ladies' game” than $ . she must have morning gowns maker-that we must turn for comparisons. —she will pay $ for a simple muslin with we soon find that in almost every instance perhaps two yards of inexpensive lace on it. prices are higher here in america than there, half a dozen evening coats for winter, and an even when liberal allowances for the payment equal number of lace or silk for summer, are of customs duties are made. for instance, a matter of course. when the irish lace the french model gown sells for from one- an eccentric costume made from a french model. it cost $ , while the plumes on the hat are valued at $ each. a hat worth $ , which is only one of many that a fashionable woman must have. the coat, of hand-wrought imported lace, cost $ .). crochet coat first became popular, one shop third to two-thirds more in new york than here sold in a month, no one of them in paris. indeed, the parisian dressmaker priced less than $ . and the accessories demands a higher price from an american are in proportionate extravagance; for lin- professional buyer than from an ordinary gerie, handkerchiefs, scarves, and fans $ , french customer. there is reason in this: or $ , a year is a conservative estimate the dressmaker knows perfectly well that the we are living in an age of luxury, indeed; model will be copied hundreds of times in but what would you have? it is good for america—that eldorado of careless luxury us dressmakers, at any rate; and one must by the buyer, who will reap tremendous live!” harvests of profit with no very great outlay.* ii for the model can be repeated in domestic * the profit on simple dresses is greater than that on elaborate regarding the prices of clothes, it is of ones, the profit on an ordinary shirtwaist suit being almost per cent. on coats and evening gowns the profit is reckoned course to paris—the habitat of the dress from to per cent. of the cost and labor. an evening coat of embroidered satin. the ermine lining alone cost $ , . the embroidery is exqui. site hand work and added $ to the cost of the garment. the necessary tailor gown. the plainest tailor gown costs $ or more. the cost is counted not so much in materials as in perfection of fit and beauty of lines. materials; and it may even be sold again, establishments. but, nowadays, our new when the exclusive dressmaker is through york dressmakers have developed wonder- with it, to the wholesale dealer, who will use fully; they display real originality; indeed, it as a model for his ready-made stock. one of the real leaders of fashionable new profiting by experience, and knowing the york recently declared that she is now buy- recklessness of rich americans in the pursuit ing her clothes in america because it is no of what they want, most of the parisian cou- longer necessary to get them abroad. turières, milliners, and makers of lingerie coralie admits candidly that, like most have arranged a special scale of prices, which other trades, dressmaking is a game-"a affects not only the professional buyer, but game," she says, "played by cautious and the casual shopper as well. for example, skilful hands. if our rival gets a good idea, a gown that a frenchman may secure for a new color scheme, we must get a better one; $ , $ , or $ may bring $ from an we must know the tricks of our opponents; american. we must spend money without stint to keep perhaps fewer new york women buy their ourselves au fait in the world of dress. clothes in paris now than in the past. it new york is mecca to thousands of wom- had long been the fashion to bring home a en who come from all over the united season's dresses with the mark of parisian states to buy or to obtain ideas for home makers on them; it still is certainly possible consumption in the dressmaking establish- to get great "value" for the money spent in ments from coast to coast. women are some of the smaller and less well-known employed at handsome salaries by the big everybody's magazine “you mean," i questioned, “that when whose energies and attention are turned to we buy a $ gown in a sixth avenue depart- the subject of dress are seldom of the type ment store, we are really buying a french that stops to think of reasons, economical or gown so far as essentials are concerned?” altruistic. so if, in their kindly and careless “certainly,” said coralie, “for there are sowing, some of the seed fall on good ground, only a few dressmakers in this country who are why, let us be simply grateful and not ask a daring enough to originate. manufacturers question that philanthropists and cynics alike go abroad for models. yet, on the other hand, have never been able to answer. the french often borrow from american cus- tomers their original ideas. years ago, when pretty juliette paquin appeared one famous iii day at armenonville in a simple white linen suit with eton jacket, distinct among the “coralie,” said i, when we found our- elaborate gowns that represented millions of selves in the trim little brougham again, dollars, she said frankly to her admirers that rolling almost noiselessly downtown, “ you she had taken the idea from an american have given me a strange jumble of facts and girl. it is not only our american dollars, fancies. tell me, isn't there anyone whose but the clever caprices of american customers dress is not worth computation in figures, that have helped in making these establish- whose jewels are not described in newspapers, ments.” who can walk unseen and talk unheard, and who does not insist on dining in public every a new york woman, whose extravagance night of her life?" in dress is equaled by her candor, once ex- coralie laughed and patted my hand. “of plained-she did not seem to think an course there is, my dear, and there are many “excuse” necessary—that she regarded any more than you think! there are women who criticism of her expenditure as uncalled for. rarely see the inside of sherry's, and of whose “i dress as well as my taste and my in- existence the paragrapher is quite ignorant, come allow, for two reasons,” she is reported yet who are figures of power, influence, and as saying. “the first is a woman's reason: authority in the world of society. only the i like to look well. and the other is this: other day, in speaking of this very subject, a it is the best way i know of to do good with woman of wealth, position, cleverness, and the money that fortune has so kindly bestowed fashion, who is noted for the beauty of her on me!” own gowns, is said to have declared that there is, of course, a grain of truth in this among her acquaintances she knew of many last statement. the circulation of great who dressed admirably on $ , a year. sums of money certainly conveys a benefit at “but women of this sort,” coralie went large. it makes employment possible and on, “cannot be called typical of modern insures the acquirement of the necessities of american civilization. although they stand life by many. but in the case of a profession for the best side of it, if you will, and certainly so dependent as is that of the dressmaker the most conservative, they do not represent on long credits and large surpluses of capi- the great restless entity that we call new tal, it is easy enough to see that the profits york. my dear, it isn't new york alone; go to the sharp brains, the calculating heads it's chicago, it's pittsburgh, it's a score of of the business. certainly the little tailor individual civilizations that merge in this on the east side of new york who received great metropolis of ours.” six dollars for the entire making of a suit “one thing more, coralie," i interrupted, that the fifth avenue tailor who employed “before you develop some startling conclu- him sold to the wife of one of our presidents sion on these broad lines; does this extrava- for $ , has small reason to be satisfied with gance in dress, to which it would seem that his share of the profit! nor can the little american women are all too prone, tend in apprentices in a fashionable establishment, any way to the demoralization of the amer- who get from $ to $ for a week of toil, feel ican man?" any particular enthusiasm for this especial coralie laughed. “how can it help doing manner of distribution.* indeed, the women so?” she cried. “it is from the american man * the scale of wages is practically the same in the majority and figure-models, from $ to $ ; and saleswomen, from $ of the large american establishments, and the staff may number to $ . ordinary d from $ to $ a week; helpers, from $ to $ ; sleeve-hands $ , . from three hundred to five hundred persons. apprentices earn ners get from $ , to $ , a year, and expert and exclusive designers are paid from $ , to the swamp dogwood that the necessary money comes; it is, per- haps, largely to please him that it is spent in this way. and, if he is the source and the beneficiary, why shouldn't he, by all that is just, be sometimes the sufferer? undoubt- edly, certain bankruptcies, separations, di- vorces, and even suicides may be laid at the door of many a woman whose passion for fine clothes has led her to desperate expedi- ents. i remember hearing of one million- aire in the west who really was reduced to poverty by his wife's love of dress. but i do not believe that instances in which this ex- travagance has been the direct cause of dis- aster are very common. there are all too many other and larger ways,” she added knowingly, “in which a man may ruin himself without the aid of our poor sex. awoman isn't necessarily extravagant merely because she happens to spend great sums of money. she is extravagant, as far as real harm is concerned, only when she spends beyond her income. i've seen wives and daughters of poor professional men who in their limited way were far more of a drain on the family resources and a far more serious menace to the family integrity than many rich women. it's all a question of degree, and if we can only hold to some just sense of proportion-in this ostentatious, fast-moving age i grant you that's not an easy thing to do—i don't be- lieve that we shall ever find ourselves beyond the reach of remedy." from the top of the steep steps at the door of my little house, i stood a moment looking into the night. already, with the ever less- ening whir of coralie's brougham, the im- pressions of the evening were taking their proper places in the background of my mem- ory. the gorgeous room, the scent of flow- ers, the esthetic grace that refines even our hunger, the rhythm of violins against mur- muring voices, the rosy lights that fell in splen- dors of form, color, and radiance—the whole riot of luxury, at once barbaric in its splen- dor and ultra-modern in its manifestation, seemed gradually to crystallize into an entity. “ah,” i thought, “it is a wonderful thing, this luxury! it means the possession of ease, comfort, and beauty. does that imply the ab- sence of anxiety, care, and ugliness, i wonder? i'm afraid not; for, in its excess, luxury spoils not only itself but its good qualities, and de- mands the payment of an inevitable penalty. it is right that those who have much should pay much; but how about those who work that others may possess? is there a pay- ment for them to make, too, in this strange system of life's economy?” and, suddenly, i was reminded of the poor little child who, working in a shop every day for a wretched wage, turned drearily from the artificial violets over which she was toil- ing. “i hate flowers,” she said, “and i wish god had never made them, so that i needn't have to do this!” the swamp dogwood by james e. richardson this is mine hour and my glory. see these red, red leaves of mine that bar thy way! thou knowest me; for 'twas not yesterday i found thine arms and paid thee for the glee wherewith my stems were torn. in amity i warn thee, then, from far; this wild display of these my leaves' incarnadined array is wrought thus for a sign ’twixt thee and me: that in thy circuits thou shalt know me well; and when at summer's end there is the dull bassoon-call of strange insects in the lull, and every marsh is brimming with the stale of long sun-harrowed months implacable, beware of me, lest madness end thy tale. where did you get it, gentlemen? by charles edward russell author of “soldiers of the common good" chapter viii money. now to have ready money instead of credits to handle is a great thing in the wall the office boy in high finance street game. one that has control of the in- vesting of much ready money can do well and in this world,” says the old philosophy, lawfully although the money be not his. the i "man may not get something for noth- gentlemen back of the american Şurety com- ing, but renders a return for all he may pany thought it was a great deal better to in- acquire.” vest the premium money than to have it in a but where? not in the fertile regions of bank subject to somebody else's investing. high finance, certainly. there to get valu- but the law rigidly restricts the investing of able properties and to pay nothing for them is insurance funds by insurance companies. the essence of the game. hence the utility of a trust company that is true, you cannot always play that game really a branch of the insurance company but without disagreeable half-hours, but sitting operates under another name—an advantage tight and abiding in your faith in the ameri- thoroughly appreciated by the big life-insur- can tolerance, you shall still win at the end. ance companies in the palmy days before . as you may observe in this story, told here to the capital stock of the state trust com- illustrate other phases of the ability that dis- pany was $ , , , subscribed at , so it tinguishes the successful man in these pleas- began business with a surplus of $ , in ant regions. addition to its capital. in new york we have banks that are called in order to secure permanently the control banks and banks that are called trust com- of the trust company by the insurance com- panies, the difference lying in a more lib- pany, and to perfect the alias under which the eral attitude of the law toward the banks insurance company was also to do business as that are called trust companies. many trust a bank, more than one-quarter of the trust companies have been organized in the last company's stock was held in the treasury of twenty years, and some of them have had the surety company, and with more than historic careers. one, called the state trust another quarter there was created that beau- company, was founded in by mr. willis tiful and efficient device, a voting trust. s. paine, as a kind of collateral enterprise of that is, the subscribers to this part of the the american surety company, of which mr. stock surrendered their voting rights to trus- paine was a director. the business of the tees that were bound to vote as the surety american surety company being chiefly to company might direct. mr. paine was presi- bond employees and to indemnify employers, dent of the state trust company and a ma- the premiums from its policies constantly jority of the trustees were connected also with produced for it a considerable stream of ready the american surety company. where did you get it, gentlemen ? for some years the state trust company if you refuse to sell, you understand, we shall sailed an even and uneventful course, being have to remove you from the board of the reputed a good conservative institution and surety company. performing agreeably its functions as the mr. kling-you go to the devil. banking alias of an insurance company. in whereupon, he said, he hung up the re- it had a surplus and undivided profits of ceiver. $ , , , and deposits of $ , , , hav- immediately afterward he was dropped ing paid six per cent. dividends and kept on from the directorate. the windward side of the law. but in that year the whitney-ryan syndicate, under the “promoters' paradise” inspiration of mr. r. a. c. smith (a gifted gentleman with a career in connection with mr. kling clung (to speak in the manner of the business side of the spanish-american a conjugation) to his stock, and observed the war) secured possession of the american sailing of the reorganized company. he may surety company and therewith, of course, have had other motives than pure philan- control of the state trust company. thropy; i do not know. it may be admitted it is well to control a trust company that is that in these days pure philanthropy seldom making good dividends, but better to own it, journeys in new york below fourteenth particularly if you have many schemes and street. and he may not have been the only design to use the trust company as a financial person that for unpublished reasons regarded adjunct of your scheming. the syndicate with suspicion the new owners. anyway, had the one-quarter block of stock. this it neither mr. ryan nor wall street was yet used as a nucleus. it then went to the other through with mr. kling, whose name was stockholders and persuaded or coerced them destined in the next few years to become rea- into parting with one-half of their holdings sonably well known to both. at , which was about the current price, meantime, the syndicate took possession of promising that after the programmed reor the ship and put in charge thereof officers de- ganization the price would be raised to , pendable for syndicate purposes-mr. walter so that the half each stockholder retained s. johnston as president, and a serviceable would then be worth as much as his entire secretary. on the new board of directors ap- holdings had been worth before. next it peared the names of some gentlemen already effected on the real estate exchange some well known to us-elihu root (now secretary ostensible sales of the stock (made by one of state), thomas f. ryan, h. h. vreeland syndicate member to another) at , which (president of the metropolitan traction established a market rate at that figure. then company), william c. whitney, p. a. b. it borrowed money on the stock as collateral, widener, and r. a. c. smith. of these, mr. at or near this artificial price, and with the root, mr. vreeland, mr. ryan, and mr. money thus obtained it paid for the stock it smith were also directors in the american had secured from the other stockholders—a surety company. small but pleasing illustration of the game the office of the state trust company was before referred to, and tending to show that no no. broadway. so was the office of the man need go without any property if he will american surety company. so also was the take the right way to get it. office of mr. thomas f. ryan. so also, pleasantly enough, were the offices of many enter abram kling stock companies, real, imaginary, plausible, potential, projected, prospective, and decoy, among the original stockholders of the that the syndicate found useful to it in its state trust company and directors of the business. the more companies, the easier american surety company was one abram becomes the application of the formula for kling. he had shares in the trust com- wealth and the issuing of securities for other pany and in the surety company. he people to pay. some of these companies were said that one day mr. ryan called him on the schemes of an exceedingly light and airy na- telephone and cordially invited him to sell ture, having, in fact, no other substance than one-half of his holdings in the trust company. some sheets of paper. captain gulliver he declined. subsequently he gave the fol- would have found much subject for remark lowing version of the rest of the conversation among them, for they strongly recalled the mr. ryan-well, in that case, mr. kling, island of laputa. they gave to no. everybody's magazine broadway a certain distinction not, perhaps, the governor, but what was still worse, the wholly desirable for serious enterprises whose next day he made it public. the governor object is ordinary business and dividends. was much stirred by the revelations it con- the place was known as the “promoters' tained. he declared at once that he must paradise.” know the facts and all of them, and to that end he appointed as a special commissioner five hours of house-cleaning to investigate the company, former adjutant- general avery d. andrews, of new york under its new management the state trust city. general andrews had been a member company seemed to fare excellently well. its of the police board under the strong adminis- deposits increased; so did its loans. it gath- tration, and in the incessant squabbles of that ered much money of other people for the dis- board had taken some part. in more recent position of the syndicate. it was known as times he became one of the directing spirits of the financial agent for many of the syndicate's the asphalt trust, rather unpleasantly promi- multifarious enterprises. it was a bank of nent in the venezuelan troubles. his instruc- deposit for the syndicate's metropolitan tions in the state trust matter were to go to the traction company. to the outside world bottom of it “no matter whom it might affect." it looked like a portly and well-conducted in now the state trust matter properly be- stitution; inside its doors, as we know now, longed to the official care of mr. f. p. kil- business went swimmingly and to the satisfac- burn, who was then superintendent of the tion of the gentlemen whose ability, energy, state banking department. for some rea- and foresight had created much of the prop- son not officially disclosed, the governor erty out of nothing. in november, , the totally ignored mr. kilburn and entrusted state bank examiner looked upon the com- all his house-cleaning to general andrews. pany's affairs and said that they were good, whereupon mr. kilburn started upon an in- and the company's statement, january , vestigation of his own. there were thus two , showed that its deposits had increased inquiries proceeding at the same time, while nearly $ , , , for on that date it had the new york newspapers, taking the scent, $ , , . of other people's money to conducted a third deal with and total resources of $ , ,- general andrews finished first. his ap- . . its profits in the preceding year had pointment was telegraphed to him on the th, been $ , . , and it had paid six per and he began work on the th. his investi- cent. dividends. all was well, therefore, at gation lasted somewhat less than five hours. no. broadway. he then ceased from his labors and returned suddenly, in the midst of this fair day and two documents. one was a report on what cloudless sky, a bolt fell. on january , he had found, and the other was a personal , mr. kling presented to the governor of letter asking to be relieved from further re- new york a long communication in which he search in the matter. made specific and very grave charges against the management of the state trust company, public reports suppressed and petitioned for the appointment of a commissioner to investigate the company's this seemed to press and public a startling affairs. he declared that the directors, in turn in the affair, and great curiosity was violation of the express mandates of the law, aroused as to its occasion. people generally had repeatedly lent to themselves the com felt that here was something exceedingly pany's assets; that they had lent money to strange and even mysterious, and they desired themselves under other persons' names upon to know more about it. the public curiosity questionable or worthless security and upon was not gratified-at that time. general none at all; that they had lent to individual andrews was relieved according to his re- borrowers sums in excess of the legal limits, quest; no one was appointed in his place; his and that their general course had been lawless report was locked up in albany; and superin- and such as to imperil the safety of the in- tendent kilburn's report coming in shortly stitution and the stability of business. these afterward, that, too, was consigned to oblivion. charges, if true, were enough to send the in spite of all demands, the government re- whole board of directors to the penitentiary fused to make either public, to give any idea for long terms. of the contents of either, or to take any action mr. kling not only delivered his petition to on either. the only information disclosed where did you get it, gentlemen ? was that both reports. had found the com- urgent demands that the state administration pany solvent. should make public the andrews and kilburn meantime, the third investigation, that of reports, orat least one of them. this the state the newspapers, directed toward burrowing administration still refused to do, although into the specific allegations of mr. kling, urged on every ground of duty and obligation, seemed to establish in the state trust com- and although in the beginning there had been a pany a condition rotten almost beyond prece- promise that the public should know every- dent and lawless enough to demand stern thing of interest concerning the company, and retribution. mr. kling had affirmed many general andrews had been ordered to go to astounding things about the management, the bottom of the inquiry "no matter whom it giving picturesque details and illustrations, might affect.” mr. kilburn and general and of these at least the following seemed to be andrews as steadily refused to give an inkling undeniably true: of the nature of their discoveries. a very strange but most potent influence seemed to a revelation of rottenness have mastered all the authorities. in new york city the district attorney and in . the company had made a loan of albany the attorney-general declined to act. $ , , to one daniel h. shea, and this a committee of the state assembly was in- loan appeared to be either unsecured or sup- duced to demand a copy of the kilburn re- ported by very questionable collateral. on port, but by the time it was produced the inquiry, daniel h. shea was found to be an committee had voted to to return it with office boy in the employment of mr. thomas the seals unbroken. a demand for a legisla- f. ryan and in receipt of a salary of $ a tive committee of investigation was similarly week. ineffectual. and against this blank wall of- . this loan was $ , in excess of the ficial inquiry seemed to have come to an end. limit fixed by the law, and was further illegal because it was really made (in violation of the no penalty for big crimes express prohibition of the law) to directors of the company. that it was so made was ex yet for some days the developments gave plicitly acknowledged by three of the direc- to the story daily a worse aspect. that loan tors, who, upon the publication of these facts to louis f. payn, for instance, seemed a and upon some signs of rising popular wrath, thing that absolutely demanded more light returned to the company the shares they had upon it. men recalled that the state trust received of the loan. company was owned by the owners of the . there was a loan of $ , . on in- metropolitan traction company, and that sufficient and doubtful collateral to louis f. certain advantages secured by the metro- payn, who was the state superintendent of politan traction company at albany the insurance. the state trust company was previous winter made it inappropriate for owned by the whitney-ryan syndicate; so that company to deal much or openly with also was the american surety company, politicians. in those days the third av- which, as an insurance concern, was directly enue railroad was still an independent con- under the official supervision of mr. payn and cern and was engaged in fighting the metro- capable of receiving benefits at his hands, a politan. both companies secured what they fact that made this loan, which was improper were pleased to call rights in amsterdam in other ways, look and smell exceedingly ill. avenue and a furious battle began between . there was a loan of $ , to william them for the possession of that part of the f. sheehan, also on very doubtful security. people's highways. mr. payn was a political mr. sheehan was, and still is, a person of great leader of much power in the state; that is, he influence in the democratic party of the state was supposed to "swing" several votes in the of new york. he was also of counsel legislature, where the deciding contest was (though not often appearing in court) for the fought. for reasons never divulged, the metropolitan traction company and for mr. third avenue company counted securely thomas f. ryan. upon the support of mr. payn, and with the there were reasons to believe that this votes that he “swung" it expected to have a was far from the extent of the questionable majority narrow but sufficient. but when transactions. the final vote came, to the amazement of the some of the papers now renewed their spectators the votes that mr. payn was said everybody's magazine to "swing" appeared in the metropolitan fidential adviser of mr. whitney and mr. traction coiumn, and the third avenue ryan. company was defeated. john w. griggs, then attorney-general of soon afterward, a trust company owned the united states. by the metropolitan traction company lent thomas f. ryan. to mr. payn a very large sum of money on william c. whitney. very inadequate security. to the average p. a. b. widener. man this fact would seem to constitute a r. a. c. smith. situation that no public officer sworn to en anthony n. brady. force the law could ignore. particularly when the money thus lent was not the money directors' loans to themselves of the traction company, but of depositors that had innocently confided it to a trust com it appeared that of the $ , , . of pany in ignorance of the fact that this trust other people's money confidingly deposited company was an alias for a surety company, with this trust company, $ , , . had and the surety company was an alias for the been swept into improper or utterly illegal traction company, and the traction company loans for the benefit of the gentlemen whose was an alias for something else. and again, ability, energy, and foresight had created particularly when such loans, made in utter something from nothing. defiance of the law, threatened the whole among these loans were the following: structure of business confidence. daniel h. shea...........$ , , . yet at albany would no man move. moore & schley........... , , . in the criminal courts of new york city louis f. payn............. , . that month there were tried and sent to pris- anthony n. brady........ , . william f. sheehan....... on hundreds of men whose offenses against , . metropolitan traction co.. the law and society were trivial compared , . with these. therefore, it appeared, the ma it appeared that the loan to the office boy chinery of justice was in regular working shea had been negotiated by elihu root, di- order. rector of the company, member of the execu- yet in new york against these offenders tive committee, and its personal and confi- would no man move. dential adviser, and that it had been kept off the directors' minute books. "beyond all question," said the report, chapter ix “this loan was illegal, because excessive and because, in part, it was made directly to di- additional light on the judicious mix- rectors of the company." ture of politics and business that is illegal! well, is it possible to conceive of essential to the best playing of the anything more illegal? for how reads the law game upon this subject? “no loan shall be made by any such cor- bad as all this was, worse remained be- poration (trust company] directly or indi- hind. on the th of march the new york rectly to any director or officer thereof."- world managed to secure, in some surrepti- general banking act, section . passed tious way, a copy of the kilburn report (so in . sedulously suppressed at albany), and pub- and further: lished it, practically in full. the whole coun- “every director of a moneyed corporation try gasped at the official confirmation it con- who wilfully does any act as such director tained of the worst charges made by kling or which is expressly forbidden by law, or wil- hinted by the newspapers. there seemed no fully omits to perform any duty imposed upon longer a chance to doubt that the official in him as such director by law, is guilty of a mis- vestigation had been muzzled because of “the demeanor, if no other punishment is pre- prominence of the persons involved,” who scribed therefor by law.”—penal code, sec- now stood forth in a white light, painfully tion . conspicuous. they were: it appeared further from the report that the elihu root, then secretary of war, now collaterals securing the sheehan loan were secretary of state, a director in the state "not currently quoted," and that mr. kilburn trust company, long the personal and con- could not estimate their value, which was, of where did you get it, gentlemen ? loa course, a polite way of saying that they were made by the metropolitan traction company rubbish. it appeared further that this loan to the order of louis f. payn and marked was in reality made in the interest of—what, “construction account.” but mr. payn, who for a guess? why, our old friend the united is merely a professional politician, never had gas improvement company of philadelphia, anything to do with any “construction” work the corporation that afterward became so for the metropolitan and never could have popular that the people gathered to hang some had. moreover, it is perfectly well known of its advocates. the united gas improve- that the construction account” is among ment company got that loan and was to repay railroad companies a common and favorite it, presumably out of the money gathered in disguise for rebates, graft, boodle, and other such questionable ways in philadelphia. but illegal payments. no one could doubt there- the united gas improvement company was fore that here was something more than sus- the syndicate, and the syndicate (and mr. picious. root) composed the directorate of the state nor is even this all. the check to payn trust company. so that when we have was an advance or an accommodation, and in traveled the circle of ability, energy, and fore the law of the state (the poor old forgotten sight we have nothing but the directors (in and neglected law!) corporations are for- violation of the law) lending their depositors' bidden to make such advances or accommo- money to themselves. dations. so that here was lawbreaking. it appeared further that the loan of $ ,- ooo to anthony n. brady was without secur- loans to the office-boy type ity of any kind, and that mr. brady, who was and is the autocrat of that popular and favor again, the state trust company held ite institution, the brooklyn rapid transit, $ , worth of the stock of the metropoli- was the close associate of the syndicate in tan traction company, and, by the law of the many of its operations. state, trust companies are forbidden to hold and it appeared further that the loan of in excess of ten per cent. of their capital the $ , to the metropolitan traction com stock of other corporations. the capital pany was without security of any kind, and stock of the state trust company was that the metropolitan traction company was $ , , ; ten per cent. out of that would the syndicate. have been $ , . so that here was law- all this was only the beginning of the story. breaking. examination of the collateral reported as se and again, the loan to office-boy shea was curing some of the loans showed remarkable in excess of the legal limits. so that here was things. thus, in the case of the loan of $ ,- lawbreaking. . to louis f. payn (who was perfectly and again, the last statement of the com- well known to be of small means), the col pany declared that the loans on personal lateral had at the most a nominal value of only notes were only $ , , whereas the loan to $ , , so that $ , of the loan was not anthony brady and a loan to miner c. keith even nominally secured. most of the col- were on personal notes. so that here was lateral that was deposited consisted of the lawbreaking. so-called securities of corporations like the but, indeed, there seemed to be no end to new york & north shore railroad, which the lawlessness that had rioted at no. astonishing as it may seem, were the doubtful broadway. nobody believed that the so- and obscure properties of the syndicate itself. called “moore & schley loan” had been made for moore & schley, and examination of the other "loan cards” revealed the names the poor neglected law! of many friends of the syndicate (some of hence, it was to be assumed that none of them penniless) that under various devices the securities deposited had ever been owned appeared to have been favored with large by mr. payn, and that the whole transaction amounts on syndicate or other airy collat- was merely a blind to cover something else, erals. all of these transactions had exactly some other operation, very likely with other the look of the shea loan; that is to say, so people's money. nor is even this all. besides far as one could judge, the obscure borrow- these alleged securities, which were to the loan ers that apparently had been entrusted with exactly what a raines law sandwich is to a great wealth were mere dummies or lay fig- sunday drink, there was a check for $ , ures to cover further illegal advances to the everybody's magazine directors of the company. we need not here go into these matters, but i offer another list of loans and the securities therefor that will to the discerning tell its own story: borrower amount collateral john w. griggs $ , chicago union traction john w. griggs , electric storage street when it was found that money had actually been risked upon such stuff. thus, one of the companies had no property, no rights, no business, and no existence except upon paper, and others were recognized as exceedingly dubious enterprises. a list of securities on which loans had been made by the state trust was submitted to the loaning officers of four reputable trust companies of new york. each declared instantly that his company would not under any circumstances advance a dollar upon such collateral. (mr. griggs was then attorney-general of the united states. union traction is the final company by which mr. yerkes looted the street-railroad serv- ice of chicago. electric storage was one of the syndicate's stocks.) n. d. daboll $ , , american tobacco (mr. daboll was secretary of a syndicate com- pany. american tobacco is owned by thomas f. ryan.) miner c. keith $ , unsecured notes (this loan has never been explained. mr. keith was not generally known in wall street.) sharp & bryan $ , ( securities of various syndicate decoy com- panies ( bonds of the american ? mail steam ship company henry p. booth $ , (the american mail steamship company was a syndicate concern and mr. booth was one of its di- rectors.) alden m. young $ , various securities (mr. young was employed in one of the syndicate offices at no. broadway.) w. a. marburg $ , chicago union traction war over electric vehicle one of the syndicate companies, electric vehicle, seems at the time to have had too lit- tle attention, for it played a momentous but silent part in the drama and had a history both interesting and illuminative. several years before the state trust com- pany moved into the center of the stage, mr. isaac l, rice, of new york city, became the owner of many valuable patents on storage batteries for electricity. to use them, he formed and was president of the storage bat- tery company, which had close business rela- tions with the original electric vehicle com- pany. between them a contract was made, stipulating that the electric vehicle company should have the right to use the patents owned by mr. rice, and that the storage battery company should furnish mechanical equip- ments to the electric vehicle company at a discount from the market prices. among the ventures of the syndicate, which had now ramified in a hundred directions, it had secured possession of an electric auto- mobile concern at hartford, and it found, therefore, that it needed storage batteries. this drew its attention to mr. rice's com- pany, and in a short time mr. rice found that the syndicate was undermining his control. he resisted, but vainly and, seeing what was at hand, retired to the electric vehicle com- pany, of which he became president, while the syndicate took possession of the storage battery concern. its first purpose, of course, was to get cheap storage batteries for its hartford factory, but as soon as it was in possession it discovered the contract by which the storage battery company, its heirs and assigns, was bound to sell storage batteries at a cheaper price to the electric vehicle company than to anybody else. this would, of course, defeat the very object the syndicate most desired, so the syn- (mr. marburg was a director in the american mail steamship company.) h. g. runkle $ , chicago union traction and other stock (mr. runkle was secretary of the american mail steamship company.) r. c. peabody $ , n. y. gas and electric and other securities (r. c. peabody was a brother of g. f. peabody, who was a director of the state trust company.) david b. sickles $ , american surety and other securities many of the securities supporting the loans made by the company were securities of com- panies floated by the syndicate or promoted by individual members thereof, and some of these startled the conservative element in wall where did you get it, gentlemen ? bringing about the treaty of peace, mr. keene was promised , shares of electric vehicle stock. this promise was never kept. subsequently, without informing mr. keene, the syndicate made a beautiful move by which the $ , , in cash that had been paid into the treasury of the electric vehicle for the $ , , of preferred stock, was de- posited in the state trust company, thus bringing the money directly back to the place from which it started. this working of the game, coupled with the refusal to pay him for his labors, undoubtedly nettled mr. keene. it was afterward asserted that he instigated the attack of kling and secured the informa- tion that kling laid before the governor. dicate declared that it would not recognize nor be bound by the contract. mr. rice in- sisted (as was his indubitable right) that the contract was perfectly legal and proper and must be enforced. the syndicate gentlemen responded that they would not observe it any, way. a bitter row ensued. mr. rice pur- posed to enforce the contract in the courts, which would probably have been not to the fancy of the syndicate. anyway, mr. james r. keene was called in to try to effect a settle- ment without litigation. he met the gentle- men of the syndicate, mr. elihu root, their confidential adviser, and mr. rice. mr. keene considered the financial condition of electric vehicle and finally proposed a com- promise that would secure electric vehicle financial assistance and give the syndicate in effect some of the advantages it demanded. the capital of electric vehicle was $ , ,- , of which $ , , in preferred stock was in the company's treasury. the syndi- cate agreed that its storage battery company should take over the $ , , of preferred electric vehicle stock then in the electric vehicle treasury, at a price that was less than its market value. this stock was to be held by the storage battery company. then electric vehicle was to issue $ , , of ad- ditional common stock, which the syndicate was to purchase at par, thus effecting to all practical intents an amalgamation of the two companies. office-boy story, continued there was still much more to the story of daniel h. shea, office boy. mr. kilburn in his report quoted the full text of the obliga- tion on which an office boy secured $ , ,- . it read thus: to the state trust company. gentlemen: please take up and pay for , shares of the preferred stock of the electric vehicle company which will be delivered to you by that company at par, and hold same for my account. i will reimburse you on demand for the amount paid, with four per cent. interest from the date of payment and all expenses, including revenue stamps. daniel h. shea. we hereby guarantee the performance of the above promise. p. a. b. widener, thomas f. ryan. syndicate slipperiness accordingly, on may , , the elec- tric vehicle company issued $ , , of additional common stock, which the syndi- cate took. it also possessed itself of the $ , , of preferred stock that had been in the electric vehicle treasury. instead of placing this $ , , of preferred stock in the storage battery treasury, the syndicate placed there $ , , of the preferred stock and the $ , , of new common stock that had just been issued, and thus had the remaining $ , , of preferred stock to manipulate. it was to carry out this deal that the $ , , loan was made through office-boy shea, the money thus secured from the state trust company's resources enabling the syndicate to make a $ , , transaction and secure possession of the elec- tric vehicle company, as an interesting corollary of this narrative, it may be mentioned that for his services in on this extraordinary document mr. kil- burn made the following significant com- ment: “president johnston testified before me that the guarantee was made at the time the loan was made, but by this i think he must have meant to be understood that the guaran- tee was made at the time the obligation was given by mr. shea and the transaction trans- ferred from advances to loans." which was the only reference in the report to the highly interesting fact of the transfer from “advances” to “loans" and the only hint at another state of facts still more impor- tant. for the new york world charged (and was never contradicted therein) that the ad- vance to shea was really made at an earlier date, that it had then no endorsement of any kind, and that there had already been a default in the interest, which had been added to the principal. everybody's magazine nothing but devious twistings and turnings them to restitution, and finally to the most whichever way one looked! extraordinary steps to cover their tracks. · mr. kilburn, reviewing some of these things and obviously trying to put the best “bluffs”—feeble and frantic face upon them, says in his report: “if the individuals merit severer treatment some of the men involved in the mess tried the courts are open, and public officials may to "bluff" a way through the situation by be called upon to take cognizance of illegal averring loudly that the attack on the state acts." trust company had been made to rig the but no public officials ever took cognizance stock market or was malicious and unjust. of these illegal acts, though repeatedly called but reporters to whom these statements were upon. here were a dozen instances of open, made tell me the men that made them talked defiant, and wanton violation of the laws that like men with unstrung nerves and that chill are made to preserve financial honesty and to concern looked out of their eyes the while. in protect innocent depositors, laws fundamental a way almost pitiable, they seemed to have lost to the essential security of business; and yet their heads, and in the stress of their painful against the men guilty of these offenses not a situation to be no more "kings of finance" public officer lifted a finger nor said a word. nor “captains of industry," but very ordi- more than that, it was well understood from nary persons trying with cheap and foolish the first that no one would be punished for devices to escape the consequences of their these crimes, and that so far as these offenses own misdoing. in their confusion they even were concerned the law was a thing of shreds attempted to defend the office-boy shea loan. and patches. first they said it was secured by a large block of valuable stock, very valuable. what the syndicate frightened stock? electric vehicle stock. but as elec- tric vehicle was now known to be one of the and yet from the first there was a strange side issues of the syndicate, that would hardly terror upon all the eminent gentlemen con- do. then they said that the loan was all cerned. mr. kling's petition was made pub- right because it was guaranteed; but a belated lic on january th; the newspapers began to guarantee on a loan without consideration or get hold of the basic facts in the case about the real security, made by gentlemen that are th. on the th mr. whitney paid back obtaining the proceeds of the loan, hardly the $ , that had been his share of the seemed worth bothering about. finally, one shea loan, and on the next day mr. widener of the officers of the company said the loan returned his portion. it appeared that on was all right because it was secured by a de- the day of the publishing of kling's petition a posit of consolidated gas bonds. this made frantic effort had been made to reduce the a stir, consolidated gas being a very valuable payn loan, and even after general andrews security. investigation showed that these so- had begun his investigation, $ , had called bonds consisted of promissory notes been hastily paid in to reduce the illegal loan issued by the consolidated gas company to the metropolitan traction company. one when, at mr. ryan's direction, it took over member of the syndicate, who had enjoyed the new york gas & electric light, heat much political experience and influence, sent and power company, both companies being a new york politician to mr. kilburn with an syndicate concerns, and that this transaction urgent plea that the superintendent should do occurred subsequent to the shea loan. what as little in the matter as possible. mr. kilo really happened between the two gas com- burn violently expelled the politician from his panies is too long and too remote a story to office. yet the gentlemen could hardly have tell here, but the alleged interposition in the been in fear of the penitentiary they had shea affair was at most a mere matter of earned; they must have known they were in bookkeeping, was too late to avail anything little danger of that. mr. elihu root, now anyway, and was, as a matter of fact, gro- secretary of state, was daily in communica- tesquely absurd because the directors had tion by telephone and otherwise with albany, made confession of the real nature of the loan and the syndicate knew mr. root well and had when they made restitution—a singular indi- a reasonable faith in his ability and success in cation of the fright that had seized upon the such delicate affairs. it was something else gentlemen making this blunder. that shook them all with visible alarms, drove further signs of trepidation were seen in where did you get it, gentlemen ? the hurried rush of the syndicate to secure its through with a rush. and so, behind the fortifications at albany. when mr. charles respectable figurehead of levi p. morton, p. bacon, kling's attorney, found that elihu the state trust company passed from sight. root had persuaded the state administration and with it disappeared the evidence in the to take no steps in the matter, and that the books. for this was what the syndicate, prosecuting officers were resolved to protect with such manifest signs of agitation, was the lawbreakers, he appealed to the attorney striving so frantically to bring about. it had general to begin an action to revoke the trust received one lesson; never has it needed to be company's charter. to all impartial minds , taught anything twice. this seemed a reasonable proposal. the com- pany had openly and in many dangerous what were they afraid of? ways violated the law. nothing was clearer than that it existed to gather funds from the as to what would have happened if kling unsuspecting public and deliver such funds had not suddenly thrust his petition into the to the mills of the syndicate. as the law wheels, that is a matter of opinion. there is officers refused to punish the men that had not the slightest doubt that the money of the done these things, therefore the game had depositors had been used to help the syndicate best be stopped, the house closed, and the in some of the ramifications of its enormous tools broken up. operations. one may believe that the syndi- but the syndicate's move upon albany cate intended to replace the money it had forestalled any such action—it has always taken, or one may believe that eventually, but had the most marvelous success in getting for the appearance of kling, the trust com- what it wanted at any seat of government, big pany would have been depleted and ruined. or little. in this case the law department there are precedents for either supposition. would take no action and the legislation de- but however that may be, this combination manded in the interest of the depositors was was caught with its hand in the till and was blocked by a band of expert lobbyists. obliged to make abject confession, hurried one of these, a man named dinkelspiel, restitution, and an extremely awkward and was particularly active at albany in the syn- humiliating exit from the premises. when the dicate's behalf. mr. bacon observed him man in your community that has prated most at work one day and protested against his about law, order, the welfare of society, and the methods, which were exceedingly frank as sublimity of honesty is discovered some night well as energetic. mr. bacon said he would in somebody else's chicken coop, he presents call the matter to the attention of the authori- a very unseemly spectacle, and so did certain ties and have dinkelspiel put off the floor of gentlemen of the syndicate. when with much the house. dinkelspiel said: good-will they kicked the obdurate kling out “you make me tired.” of the american surety company, they never which, i suppose, was true, for he was dreamed what was in store for them. and never interfered with by the authorities. when kling, who had been watching all the time from a crack in the coop, suddenly exit state trust company leaped at them out of the dark with a con- stable, there was a shriek of agony and such the legislature declined to interfere in be- genuine terror that it was literally a tremb- half of the public, and the syndicate put in ling syndicate that the constable held up to its track-covering measure. it was a bit of the world's scornful gaze. clever bill-drawing, pretending to amend the but what was it that the gentlemen were banking act and really authorizing the state so much afraid of ? . trust company to lose its identity by amal let us not consider too curiously of this, gamating with the morton trust company, but fix our admiring attention on the services whereof the chief owner is mr. ryan. “the to society and the ability, energy, and fore- real purpose of this bill,” said mr. bacon bit- sight involved in breaking the law, evading terly, “is to enable the state trust company prosecution, and diverting to our own profit to burn its books and destroy the evidence the money entrusted to us by others. for contained in them.” but he wasted his therein lies much instruction concerning the breath in protests. under the active guid- golden palace and other subjects pertinent ance of the republican whips, the bill went to this inquiry. “ where did you get it, gentlemen ?” will be continued in the december number. the heroism of mr. peglow by e. j. rath illustrations by frederic r. gruger d'ven though the door to the inner office fortably fat. they shared a serenity that c was closed, the ears of simeon hobby nothing had ever disturbed-until miss could not escape from the maddening peck- pickett came. peck-peck that came from beyond it. for at it was mr. hobby who was really responsi- least the tenth time that afternoon he straight- ble for her. in a deferentially shy manner ened up wearily from his desk, sighed, and mr. peglow had let it be known that he con- shook his head slowly. then he looked in the sidered her advent a dangerous innovation. direction of mr. peglow, who was shifting rest. he might even have carried the day had he lessly on the top of his high stool. there was been firm, but mr. peglow was far too con- some satisfaction in knowing that peglow siderate of his employer's desires to dream shared the misery. of anything like open opposition. so, in a mr. hobby wondered if ever again the firm moment of weakness, mr. hobby had yielded of hobby & hoople would know the joy of to the insidious advance of that thing called quiet, peaceful concentration, safe from the progress. henceforth, the letters of hobby distracting peck-peck-peck that issued from & hoople would be typewritten. behind the glass door. for three months miss pickett was young and brisk and now he had been unable to figure an estimate, smiling, in sharp relief to the dinginess of the write a letter, or even read a newspaper ex office. mr. hobby and mr. peglow did not cept to the accompaniment of miss pickett's mind that so much-although when two men typewriter. have passed the fifty-year mark together, for sixty years hobby & hoople had without marriage, they are apt to be “set." prospered, in spite of the fact that their it was the noise that hurt. that was some- correspondence was not typewritten. the thing to which they had given no considera- original hobby and the original hoople were tion. but for three months now they had dead these many years, but the firm, which been able to give consideration to little else. was now none other than simeon hobby, they had never spoken to each other about solely and exclusively, had never seen any it. secretly, mr. hobby pitied mr. peglow, reason to change its sign. it was not much whose annoyance he had furtively watched given to change, in fact. it had the same for some time. secretly, also, mr. peglow office, the same furniture, the same habits. had observed the misery of his employer, and it was highly respectable, deservedly prosper- his grief had an added poignancy because he ous, and enjoyed such a fame for conservatism realized that, at the crucial moment, he had that some people said it was old-maidish. failed to be sufficiently outspoken against the the buying of a typewriter and the employ- impending evil. miss pickett, who observed ment of a young person to manipulate it had nothing of their distress, conscientiously been a matter of long and serious considera- pecked away at the typewriter with what tion by mr. hobby and mr. peglow. by seemed to be a daily increasing ardor. birth, instinct, and long training, mr. peglow on this particular afternoon mr. hobby was even more conservative than his em- watched the trim figure of miss pickett de- ployer. together, he and mr. hobby had part from the office with a feeling of relief. grown up in the business, one to become the then he was seized with sudden resolution. firm, the other its chief clerk and bookkeeper. “mr. peglow," he said quietly. together, they had pursued an even tenor of mr. peglow slipped from his high stool and commercial placidity. mr. peglow was little approached his employer's desk. and thin and bald. mr. hobby was com- “sit down, mr. peglow," said mr. hobby. the heroism of mr. peglow pened. mr. peglow sat down, with full understand “yes, sir,” said mr. peglow promptly. ing that something of importance had hap mr. hobby looked surprised. he did not know that mr. peglow had been observing "mr. peglow," said mr. hobby, folding him. after another pause he cleared his his hands across his waistcoat, “miss pickett throat and said very firmly: has now been with us for three months.” “we both owe a certain duty to the house “yes, sir," confirmed mr. peglow. of hobby & hoople, mr. peglow.” “and we are having our correspondence “we do, sir; most assuredly." typewritten." “the duty of always doing our best," “yes, sir." added mr. hobby. “is our business increasing, mr. peglow?” mr. peglow confirmed it with a nod. “it is normally good, sir,” said mr. peglow “on the other hand, mr. peglow, the firm” conservatively. -mr. hobby always spoke impersonally of “what i am getting at,” explained mr. the firm—"owes to us an opportunity to do hobby, “is whether, as a result of having our our best work. it owes us quiet and freedom correspondence typewritten, we are increasing from interruption, and a fair chance." the volume of our business." “yes, sir; i think so, sir." "hum,” said mr. peglow reflectively. "i “but we are not getting that opportu- - i think it's about the same, sir." nity, mr. peglow," said his employer, with the house of hobby & hoople remained sudden and significant emphasis. silent for several mo- mr. peglow nodded ments, thinking deeply. his head mournfully. at last he observed: “we are being an- “i have been watch- noyed,” continued mr. ing you at odd times, hobby. mr. peglow, ever since a shrug. miss pickett came.” “our nerves are be- “yes, sir.” ing destroyed,” added “i think she annoys mr. hobby, in further indictment of the firm. "oh, indeed,” pro- another shrug from tested mr. peglow, “i mr. peglow. am sure miss pickett is “very good, then," quite ladylike.” said mr. hobby. “the “certainly, certainly, duty of the firm is clear. mr. peglow,” said mr. we- -shall dismiss hobby hastily. “i did miss pickett.” not mean that. miss mr. peglow gazed pickett is, indeed, a out of the window and genteel person. what felt uncomfortable. i mean is, i think the never in his day had noise of the typewriter the firm of hobby & is distressing to you.” hoople discharged any- mr. peglow shrugged body. lifetimes were his shoulders. spent in its service, "i think it distracts rather. the very idea the original hobby and the original your mind,” continued of a discharge was a mr. hobby. shock to mr. peglow. mr. peglow waved his hands in a depre- to be sure, mr. hobby had softened the cating way. word, but he could not soften the fact. "in short, i think you no longer work in “the firm owes it to us, mr. peglow,” said comfort, mr. peglow.” mr. hobby judicially. “i shall dismiss miss “um-m-well-possibly,” admitted mr. pickett to-morrow. er-how long do you peglow. think it is customary to give notice?" "and do you know that i have the same mr. peglow shook his head helplessly, for feeling myself?” said mr. hobby, eying his this was another innovation. chief clerk. “a week?” asked mr. hobby doubtfully. you." i fer iioople. everybody's magazine mr. peglow sighed and returned to his “but, miss pickett, spelling " books, while mr. hobby, firm in his resolu “i know; i know, sir,” interrupted miss tion, immediately sent for miss pickett. pickett, nodding her head vigorously. "spell- “sit down, if you please, miss pickett,” ing is very important. i always did have he said, waving her to a seat. he took a trouble with it. but i've just thought of a letter from his desk. scheme." “this letter, miss pickett,” he began, “is “yes?" said mr. hobby faintly. addressed to one of our oldest customers, the “couldn't you buy me a dictionary?”. firm of gammidge & tillson." miss pickett's eyes were sincere and ap- miss pickett indicated her comprehension pealing, and as mr. hobby met their friendly with a nod. gaze he faltered. “gammidge & tillson,” repeated mr. “even a small dictionary would do,” added hobby. “but i find that you have spelled miss pickett. gammidge without a 'd."" mr. hobby turned an uneasy glance in the “did i?” asked miss pickett, in a tone of direction of mr. peglow. that faithful little surprise. “why, so i did. but now i think man was bent low over his ledger. the head of it, sir, i have always been spelling it that of the firm stirred nervously in his seat, and way." then said, in a low voice: "you have, indeed,” said mr. hobby, his “certainly, miss pickett. you shall have task lightened by the frank admission. a dictionary to-morrow.” "i never knew there was a 'd' in it," added “that will be lovely,” said miss pickett miss pickett. gratefully, rising and picking up the offending “you didn't?" exclaimed mr. hobby in letter. “did you say there ought to be two amazement. 'l's' in 'respectfully'?". “you never told me,” said miss pickett “yes, two,” said mr. hobby, turning to his simply. work with a sigh. mr. hobby showed traces of embarrass- the following morning mr. peglow un- ment. wrapped a large package at the office. when “i-i guess you are right, miss pickett,” his employer arrived he hastened to an- he said, fumbling for another letter. “we nounce: will pass that over, if you please. it was quite “a dictionary has been sent to us, sir. my fault; i should have told you. but here doubtless there is some mistake.” is a letter where the case is quite different. “no, there isn't any mistake,” said mr. here, where you make us say 'we would beg hobby humbly. to state that we are shipping to you,' etc., you "is it meant for us?” asked mr. peglow in have spelled 'beg' with two 'g's' and you surprise. have put only one 'p'in ‘shipping.” "it's for miss pickett.” miss pickett leaned over and examined the mr. peglow, mouth open, gazed at his letter. employer for several seconds. then he “so i did," she said apologetically. shook his head slowly from side to side and “and down here," continued mr. hobby, went back to his stool. "you have spelled the word “transmit' with the pecking noise from the inner office two 't's,' and 'quote' as if it were 'quoit, continued to destroy the peace of the firm of and you have put but one'l'inrespectfully."" hobby & hoople. mr. hobby and mr. miss pickett again examined the letter with peglow endured it in silence, as a sort of interest. penance. for a fortnight they spoke no "i am a bad speller,” she admitted. “a more of it. each knew that the other's heart dreadful one.” was full, but each possessed such an acute "i fear so, miss pickett,” said mr. hobby sense of delicacy that he refrained from al- in a regretful tone. “yet it is necessary lusion to an unpleasant topic. miss pickett that our correspondence should be correctly continued to be conscientiously punctual in spelled.” the mornings, and thumbed the pages of her “of course it is,” declared miss pickett. dictionary so persistently that spelling be- “i'll tell you what i'll do. i'll write that came a dead issue. there was more type- letter all over again.” writing than ever now, for miss pickett wrote mr. hobby looked startled and began each letter twice. from the original copy hastily: she would carefully compare doubtful words the heroism of mr. peglow with the bulky volume at her elbow; then she mr. hobby brightened. would rewrite each letter in accordance with “yes, i could, i suppose-and, by jove, the accepted standard of orthography. the i will! i will do it at once. miss pickett! educational value of the undertaking was no, no, mr. peglow; remain here, if you great-for miss pickett—but it was wrecking please.” the nervous systems of mr. hobby and mr. mr. peglow shifted uneasily from one foot peglow. to the other as miss pickett appeared with "cannot you think of any other reason, her notebook. mr. peglow?” asked his employer one day, “er-miss pickett," said mr. hobby. when his mood had become desperate. “yes, sir?" “for what?" asked mr. peglow, temporiz “mr. peglow and i”-it was cowardly to ing weakly. bring mr. peglow into it, but his employer “for dismissing miss pickett." felt the need of moral support—"mr. peg- frgauger “where did you ever get the idea that the typewriter needed a new ribbon, mr. peglow?" now, mr. peglow gladly would have been of assistance, but he could think of nothing, so he shook his head to signify that fact. "but, don't you see," said mr. hobby, “that you and i cannot stand this much longer? you are going to break down under it. so am i. we shall never become ac- customed to it. we are too old to learn. we must think of some other way." "i wish i could,” said mr. peglow un- happily. “but you must,” declared mr. hobby, with unwonted emphasis. mr. peglow thought long and deeply, and then said: “couldn't you just do it on account of the real reason?" low and i think—that is, we have come to the conclusion—that the typewriter is-er—why — by the way, what was it we were saying about the typewriter, mr. peglow?" mr. peglow gave his employer a glance of bitter reproach. then he looked at miss pickett. “i think we were saying, sir,” he said slowly, “that the typewriter was in need of a new ribbon." mr. hobby gazed at his clerk in amaze- ment. mr. peglow was slightly flushed. had he been anybody other than himself, his expression might have been interpreted as one of defiance. the head of the firm ventured to look at miss pickett. then he groveled. everybody's magazine “does it need a new ribbon?” he asked, “there is one other thing," added mr. swallowing hard. hobby. “i have been thinking of it for a “why, i hardly think so," said miss long time, mr. peglow. i am going to make pickett, puzzled. “i put on a new one you an offer of partnership.” yesterday afternoon." mr. peglow was too overcome for speech. mr. hobby bent his head over his desk and there was an almost painful silence, broken began to examine only by the peck- minutely a letter that peck-peck from the he had just signed. inner room. “so you did; so "you have long you did,” he mur- been a faithful em- mured. “where did ployee, mr. peg- you ever get the idea low," his employer that the typewriter continued at last. needed a new ribbon, “i have reached the mr. peglow?" point in life where i “i–i don'tknow, wish to share the sir,” said mr. peg- burdens - and the low awkwardly. profits-of the busi- “perhaps i was ness. i can think mistaken." of none so deserving “yes, you were as you." mistaken,'' said mr. the chief clerk hobby almost se- was still speechless. verely, still exam- “therefore,” said ining the letter. mr. hobby, “i in- “the ribbon seems tend to make you quite new. i guess "ah!" exclaimed mr. hobby, “ so she went in my partner—on one that's all, miss pick- happiness and not in sorrow." condition.” ett, thank you.” he looked up at miss pickett went back to the inner office. mr. peglow very gravely, then over his mr. hobby and mr. peglow ventured to look shoulder to see whether the glass door was at each other. not a word was spoken. closed. after that he leaned forward and the chief clerk sighed eloquently and re- whispered hoarsely: turned to his high stool. the firm shook his . “on condition that you dispense with that head slowly and bent over his desk. —that noise.” they endured another week of it, during mr. peglow swallowed hard, his face show- which mr. peglow made no further allusions ing an expression of mingled joy and anguish. to the pay-roll. what they suffered neither "mr. hobby," he began, “i am so deeply confided to the other, though each continued grateful to you that i cannot find the right his surreptitious and sympathetic observa- words to say. but— " tions. “good-by, mr. peglow," said mr. hobby then, late one day, mr. hobby summoned abruptly, rising from his chair, slamming his chief clerk. down the lid of his desk, and reaching for his “mr. peglow," he said, “i shall not be here hat. “good-by, sir. i am going at once. to-morrow." i may be gone a couple of weeks—or a month; mr. peglow looked incredulous, for this i don't know. i leave it all in your hands." was another innovation. he seized mr. peglow's unresisting hand, “no," continued mr. hobby. “and i wrung it warmly, and walked briskly out. shall not be here probably for several weeks.” mr. peglow gazed after him stupidly. a mr. peglow stood in mute amazement. partnership! the dream of his life was to “i am going away, mr. peglow,” said become a reality. no longer would he be the firm wearily. “going away for a rest. with hobby & hoople; he would be of them. my nerves demand it. i can endure it no he drew a deep breath and straightened his longer. you will have to look after the little figure manfully. he glanced about the business.” dusty office with the old feeling of tender- mr. peglow bowed his head submissively. ness, and an entirely new sensation of proud the heroism of mr. peglow possession. then his eye fell on the glass fault, and he reproached himself for it. door and his ear caught the sound that came he never should have made such a condition. from within. the joy faded out of his he had forced peglow to do it. he had countenance and he became a picture of de- shirked his own duty, and had offered the jection. for a full minute he stood thus, performance of it as a sort of bribe to another. his hands twitching nervously. then mr. the old-time silence of the office no longer peglow did something that no man had ever seemed so joyful as it did in other days. seen him do before. he doubled up his fist, actually, he seemed to miss that maddening raised it over his head, and shook it in im- peck-peck-peck. potent rage. mr. hobby stepped into the outer office the head of the firm of hobby & hoople again and closed the door behind him softly. was gone for a full three weeks, during which mr. peglow was laboring over his accounts, time he wrote not a single letter to mr. peg- his conscience apparently easy. the head low, greatly to that gentleman's alarm. then of the firm studied his back in silence for half he appeared one forenoon, as suddenly as a minute. · then he said almost sharply: he had departed. mr. peglow found him “mr. peglow!” self whacked heartily on the shoulder, and “yes, sir?” said mr. peglow, slipping off whisked about to view a rejuvenated mr. his stool. hobby, ruddy and smiling and almost boyish. “i believe you are my partner now, mr. “and how are you, mr. peglow?” said the peglow.” firm heartily. the little man dropped his eyes modestly. “i am well, mr. hobby, and i am indeed “by that i mean,” said mr. hobby, "you glad to see you, sir.” have-er-dismissed miss pickett.” “you are looking fine," commented mr. mr. peglow did not lift his eyes, but made hobby. “has everything gone all right?” a slight inclination of the head. “oh, yes, sir; i think so." “would you mind telling me, mr. peglow, mr. hobby swept a glance around the how you accomplished it?” office and nodded his head, as if in confirma- “why,” said mr. peglow, in a low voice, tion. the door to the inner office was closed. “miss pickett left to be married.” no sound came from beyond it, although he “ah!” exclaimed mr. hobby, his face listened almost fearfully. then he tiptoed brightening. “so she went in happiness and toward it softly, listened again, and finally not in sorrow. i am glad, very glad, sir.” opened it and entered. mr. peglow himself looked pleased. there was nobody there. the typewriter “and whom did she marry?" inquired mr. stood pathetically on miss pickett's desk. hobby, with polite interest in the affairs of he ran his finger along the top of the frame his late amanuensis. and found it thick with dust. another layer “me," said mr. peglow, with a blush. of dust coated the dictionary. mr. hobby the head of the firm of hobby & hoople contemplated the scene for a moment and stared open-mouthed at the junior partner. then sighed deeply. mr. peglow's eyes fell again and he shifted peglow had done it, after all. peglow was his weight to the other foot. there was a a braver man than he. there was something long, embarrassed silence. then mr. hobby unpleasant in the thought. peglow was his roused himself and stepped forward im- partner now. why shouldn't peglow have pulsively. he seized mr. peglow's hand in been brave? he had a motive, an ambition. a viselike grip, shook it violently, and turned for the sake of the ambition he had-mr. to his desk without a word. hobby tried not to think about it. of course, five minutes later he paused midway in the he wanted peglow for his partner, but he dis- task of opening a pile of letters, and muttered: liked to reflect that his desire had been won “i wonder why in the world i didn't think in such a way. at any rate, it was his own of that myself.” the newest land of promise exodus of a million farmers annually into the southwest by g. w. ogden illustrated with photographs editor's note.— the southwest alone is recruiting one hundred thousand men each month to the army of american prosperity. and ninety-six per cent. of these are american born. practically all of them go from the territory lying between the alleghanies and the mississippi. their cry is “ a quarter-section and independence, and some of them, from the cities, add “let the foreigners have the packing-house jobs.” this movement is not a boom, it is the nation maintaining its balance; moving on to the last frontier. where a million immigrants settle in the cities, a million american citizens, obeying the call of awakened man- hood, go back to the land. within ten years all the available cheap lands will be occupied, but they will be occupied by men and women grounded in the best traditions of americanism; they will produce the surplus foodstuffs that insure us a balance of trade. this means continued national prosperity. mr. ogden gives us a brilliant picture of the movement. imagine a million people sixty years ago i shifting from east to west yearly over the oregon trail by wagon and ox-team! what a furor such a migration would have occa- sioned, what an epoch it would have marked in history! a few thousand in a decade of those far years made history of a most im- pressive and lasting kind. but in our time a million people shift each year from between the alleghanies and the mississippi, and dis- appear-as the turgid flood of the red river sinks from sight in the desert sands—ab- sorbed by that deep-breathed, level-hori- zoned country which lies down yonder under the haze of the southwest. almost a hundred thousand a month stream through kansas city and st. louis, the gateways that ward the highroads lead- ing out into the great southwest, and ninety- six per cent. of them are american-born. nor is this all. it is but one branch of a divergent stream, which splits its current at the edge of what was once the “plains," the other branch running up into the northwest, as this one bends down into the mesas and vegas and llanos of a more salubrious clime. what is the meaning of this migration, this apparent unrest and discontent? wherein lies the cause? what is the effect? in homely phrase, it is the people of the country swarming. it is the nation main- taining its balance; the increase pouring out, like liberated flocks, into new pastures; the pioneers of the plow moving on to the last frontier. it is the unprecedented race for cheap lands, the last of which, suitable to the needs of husbandry, are disappearing at a rate that in ten years-many well-informed persons say five-will have absorbed them all. the past two years have witnessed a won- derful awakening in the southwest, and especially in texas. the railroads, which formerly built into the southwest for the pur- pose of handling the live-stock traffic, lately became plagued with the notion that they were overlooking something. as a result of their cogitations, they became active in in- ducing the immigration of agriculturists, and to their wonderfully well-organized and far-reaching bureaus of information and ad- vertising the quick growth of this new em- pire is primarily due. twice each month "home-seekers' excursions” are run, tickets from the principal gateway cities being sold at a great reduction. one western railroad has carried as many as ten thousand land-seekers on a single excursion into oklahoma and texas, conveying them in special trains. on home-seekers' days, all trains on the roads reaching the southwest from kansas city, the assembling-point, are run in several sections each, supplemented by many specials the newest land of promise of from seven to ten coaches. much of this cally all entered, that cheap tracts were dis- travel goes into the pecos valley of new appearing like snow before a chinook. mexico, much to arizona, but there are sev- there are several potent factors to be con- eral great trunk lines pouring into texas, and sidered as leading up to this situation, to this texas is the center from which this marvelous growing scarcity, this unprecedented de- transformation is spreading. mand. foreign immigration, indirectly, has modern methods in empire building have a bearing, but only in so far as it crowds the caused vast changes in texas during the past industrial marts of the east and pushes amer- two years. the biggest cattle-ranches in the ican-born men—who find it harder and state have been cut up and sold, or are being harder, more painful, more degrading, to sold, and hundreds of comparatively big ones adjust their ideas of manhood and freedom to which remain are being surveyed and staked. the ever-growing exactions of capital-out the farmer is coming, and the day of the long- into the open; out into the promise of a horn is past. in place of the lean-flanked chance at life where it is not all give on their steer is found the complacent white-face, side and all take on that of the other man. round and comely and sleek; in place of the but as for the foreign-born taking away the belted, ammunition-weighted cowboy, the american's birthright of land, it hasn't come bland german farmer who raises bermuda to that to any great extent. government onions on the shores of the rio grande. a figures show that out of the total of , , recent journey from amarillo to el paso, immigrants who entered our ports in the year from el paso to nueces bay, did not discover ending june , , only four per cent. a man who wore his weapons in sight. found their way into the southwest. ninety the whole southwest is changing, fast. in per cent. of them remained in the east, that is, the panhandle, the cattleman has given place east of the alleghanies, crowding just that to the cattle-raiser (a significant distinction in many others a little farther along toward the texas), and in the southwest gulf coast coun- fringe of the west. as for the southwest, it try the truck-gardener has pushed him out of would welcome any kind of foreigner, save a the plain entirely, or driven him, by virtue of yellow-tinted one, who would turn his hand to example, to put his hand to the plow. in the soil. texas a “truck-patch” is any kind of a farm another cause--and it is the biggest one not devoted to cotton. it may comprise five outside the shifting of practical farmers from acres or five thousand, but unless it grows expensive land to cheap-is the discontent cotton it is a truck-patch, just the same among the wage-earners of the cities of the but to come back to the text. this is a middle states. the biggest demand on real- big country-big, when a million people can estate dealers in the middle west to-day is for go trapesing around over it and not cause any- small tracts within reach of market. the body to get up from the supper-table to see easiest kind of a trade to make to-day is city what's kicking up all the dust. and a million property for farm land. the increased cost is only part of the army hustling out to set the of living, out of proportion to the increase in stakes mas alla, as the mexicans say-hus- wages; the socialistic propaganda, which is tling out and humping off into the chaparral enabling men to weigh scientifically the cause and flat leagues of prairie, to grow more and effect of industrial conditions; the realiza- wheat and corn, cotton and alfalfa, and the tion that, as long as a man must stay in the fifty-nine other useful varieties of crops, producing class he would better arrange it so there are sixty-three in texas—to make the that the greater share of his product may nation bigger and happier, and fatter and benefit himself; the awakening of the man- better. hood in men-all these tend to call them back land hunger laid its grip on the nation to the ground. about three years ago, and for two years “a quarter section and independence” is it has been acute. its first symptoms were the cry of the shop-worn, shambles-wasted apparent in the jostling rush into the opened toilers who are at last beginning to come into indian lands of the northwest, where the their own. it's a big thing for the muscle and rule was ten candidates for every quarter- the nerve of this country. it will do more section the government had to parcel out toward solving the labor question than unions this seemed to bring the people to a realiza and associations; it will breed a new race out tion of the situation, of the undeniable fact on the prairies; it will cut down the output of that public lands worth having were practi- spindle-shanked, sallow, anemic children. everybody's magazine “a quarter-section and independence for asking an unreasonable price for your land, us! let the foreigners have the packing- based on what you paid for it a year ago, mr. house jobs!” agent, but what it is worth to me. the mat- land is being sold in the southwest on con- ter of buying a section, or ten sections, of land ditions which, assuredly, place it within the comes down to an exact and equitable ex- reach of any man disposed to own it. large change of values. there is no flurry, no companies which acquired the land several excitement about it. the brass band, red- years ago, or the owners of ranches, and in lettered canvas, and free refreshment methods some cases railroad companies, are prepared of the town-site boomer have no place in the to sell almost any sized tract on a small initial peopling of the southwest. payment and long time on the balance. if a of course the city man, who doesn't know man doesn't want a section or a quarter-sec land, must depend on the integrity of the land tion, he can get what he does want, even down agent, or on the information supplied him by to ten acres. this amount, in the truck- the railroad. the railroads guard his inter- gardening gulf coast country of texas, where ests, too. they want producing people along he may grow anything from beans to bananas, their lines, and are careful to inform all in- is enough to make him rich. and texas and quirers fully regarding whatever locality they oklahoma can take care of five million people may desire to visit. so there is practically no yet without crowding. all over texas they're blind buying wearing “five-million” buttons now, setting the railroads assume the speculative load that as their mark for . in latter-day colonization. vast amounts of money are spent by them in rendering acces- the men who are developing the southwest sible lands that are straining their fecund come mainly from the middle states east of the acres toward the hands of the husbandman; mississippi river, and from iowa, kansas, in spanning leagues that may lie untouched and nebraska on the west. for the most and unprofitable for a generation, to tap the part they have been pioneers in the communi- promised abundance of a region beyond. it ties they leave who have profited by acquir- isn't a game that bunco can enter, because it ing cheap lands. these lands they have doesn't pay to build a railroad for the mere farmed and improved and grown comfortably purpose of selling off land. it is the product rich from, and at last they have sold them at of the land, under skilful manipulation, that big prices to the overflow from the east. to makes a railroad pay. such men as these, and their sons, coming there is here none of the slow develop- into the southwest, land at from $ to $ ment that characterized the old west. okla- an acre is cheap, and they have the adven- homa has accomplished in fifteen years what turous spirit and the tried courage for facing a it took kansas forty to attain. in the first new country and hewing it into shape, to place, these modern frontiersmen generally gether with the restless desire to be always have the railroad to carry them to their new crowding on, which is so eminently lacking in homes. then it transports their machinery the far easterners who supplant them. and goods to them; and it carries away their when they go into the southwest seeking first crop. no need to stint the output be- a new location, they are met at chicago, st. cause of lack of market. the land may be louis, kansas city, or omaha by the real urged to its greatest capacity from the very estate men with whom they have been in cor start; there is the market, north and southeast respondence, and are conducted on the home- and east, calling for all that the new land can seekers' excursions — an agent having in give it; there is the new railroad, panting to charge from five to one hundred prospective carry the riches away. as a result, pros- customers—to the localities they desire to in- perity sits at the table with the colonists of spect. but the thing hasn't the aspect of in the southwest from the beginning. you will nocents being led to the slaughter, as past find a bank in many a town where there is impressions of speculative real-estate dealers neither a saloon nor a church. would naturally lead one to believe. the farmer who is tired of growing $ for these home-seekers are men-and not crops on $ land; the young man who has a infrequently women-who know land values, little capital and enough grit to face the raw- not only from the standpoint of the seller, ness of the first year or two, will find in the but thoroughly from the standpoint of the southwest riches more certain than the sun- buyer. the question is not whether you are cursed sands of death valley or the bleak a party of home-seekers and their automobile. wastes of alaska can offer, where, at the best, the railroads made oklahoma, just as only one in thousands finds reward for his they made kansas and colorado. there is travail and heart-sickness. there is sure no gainsaying that. in spite of all their rep- prosperity, and ease, and affluence, in a clime rehensible features of financial sculduggery, blessed by nature, for every man who will put there are always good men somewhere around forth the effort to attain them. the railroads, working honestly, and for big ends. so we must give the railroads credit oklahoma has such a friendly face. it for our lubberly brother, oklahoma. his smiles an invitation, in all of its great expanse, railroad facilities, together with the best of the in every mile, at every beaten cross-road, to nation's youth who came to him, put him in get right out of the wagon and make yourself the seventh grade in shorter time than ter- at home. there is something familiar and ritories ordinarily require to finish the primer. homelike in the landscape, no matter where here a man commonly buys a farm, pays for you hail from, that just makes you take a long it with the first crop, builds a big house and breath and want to stay. the invitation is barn with the next, then settles contentedly so cordial that it causes thousands of home- down to enjoy the plush parlor set and the seekers, who set out with the intention of mechanical piano on the yearly increase. going farther, to cheaper lands, to break their i t is said that there is a claimant for every journeys and cast their lines in oklahoma. quarter-section in oklahoma, proper. this here cheap lands are a thing of the past; that being the case, the wonder grows where all is, as the term is understood among investors. the newcomers find standing-room, until in- twenty dollars an acre is as low as the price vestigation reveals the fact that thousands are drops within profitable reach of transporta- leaving oklahoma annually for the promise tion, and $ is about the average for farm of something better beyond. you always and fruit land well located. find that kind of people, everywhere. you oklahoma has been the land of the specu- would encounter them in the promised land, lator to a greater extent than any other ter- going through the motion of hitching up and ritory in the union. its history is one of suc- driving on. oklahoma is to-day a land of cessive rushes, dating from the first on april thrift and rapid fortunes, and the sifting-out , , down to the latest, april, , process makes room in it each year for at when the oto, ponca, and missouri reser- least a fifth of the migrating million whose vations were opened. the speculator came course we are following. with the dawn of opening and left with the the territory holds everything within its sunrise of solid development; capital fol- borders necessary to make it an independent lowed, like blackbirds along a fresh-turned principality. cut off from all the world, it furrow, at the farmer's heels, and oklahoma would suffer no want that its own resources grew mighty at one well-gathered bound. could not supply. the streets of its cities are everybody's magazine being paved with its own asphalt; its business that city a wonderful story of cotton. recog- houses, schools, churches, and court-houses nizing in the black-jack soil a close similarity are built of its own granite and marble, held to that of the georgia cotton lands, some of together by its own cement; its people cook them had planted a few seeds, which, some- and heat with its own coal and gas, while its how, had clung to their effects when they oil, poured out in the greatest volume ever migrated to the new country. the result had discovered anywhere, goes out to illu- been a prolific yield of extra-fine cotton, and minate and lubricate the earth. in the pro- the committee had come to guthrie to solicit duction of cotton it ranks sixth among the aid in sending south for seed enough to plant states. in it produced one million crops the following spring. bales, and this year will probably bring it up no one knew about cotton in oklahoma, to fourth place. and for a long time no one would listen to oklahoma very nearly overlooked cotton, them. but at length they found a man who too. the northern men who came in with was interested. he drew others in, a car- the rush didn't think of it as a cotton load of seed was bought and distributed country, didn't think of it as much of any- among the negroes, and in the spring of thing, in fact, when they saw the red soil, red the first cotton crop was planted in okla- as a clay bank where a log pile has been homa. burned. it remained for a band of obscure oklahoma is, right now, the marvel of the georgia negroes, in dire misfortune, to dis- world as a producer of petroleum. though cover its cotton qualities and give it one of its the oil-wells are located in the creek nation of chief sources of wealth. the old indian territory, they will be in okla- it was along about that a negro, e. p. homa under statehood. already the people mccabe, ex-auditor of kansas, with two as- write it “tulsa, oklahoma.” the great sociates, acquired acres of land near glenn pool, the most extensive petroleum guthrie, laid out a town site, and induced some deposit ever discovered, lies near the city of , negroes from the south to settle there. tulsa. from an eminence in the pool it is but the town, having nothing to support it, possible to count derricks, standing, it was a failure; the inhabitants were scattered. seems, as thick as bean poles, and the field still, a few remained, some of them even ac- is still only fairly blocked out. in earthen quiring land which the white man had passed “tanks" and great steel receptacles are stored over as worthless. one day in the fall of millions of barrels of crude oil, and the wells a committee of these negroes visited are more than half idle for want of an outlet guthrie and laid before the business men of for their product. oklahoma city as it was in . oklahoma city as it is to-day. there are $ , , turned loose in tulsa under the provisions of recent enactments, every month, $ , , in a town of , most of the lands held by the indians may be people. somebody is getting some money disposed of by them. in anticipation of the there; you can figure it up yourself. the inrush which must surely follow, certain com- freight business of the 'frisco railroad at panies and wealthy individuals are already keifer, the oil-field station, runs about $ ,- on the ground, binding the indians up in a month, the passenger traffic $ , a leases. it is another conspiracy against the month, and it is all handled in a box car poor man. when the time comes for him to standing beside the track. oil speculators drive into the new country, he will find all from all parts of the earth are there; grafters the land lease-covered. if he gets any of it he and boomers and sure-thing men from east will have to pay dearly. and west throng the one slant, raw street of in the middle west there is little public the town of keifer during the day, returning land left. missouri has less than , at night to the comforts of tulsa and the acres subject to homestead or cash purchase two-per-cent. alcohol beverages which an in- from the government, and the one-fourth of dulgent government allows to be sold within that suitable to cultivation is bound in by the territory of its wards. rugged hills, much of it miles from a rail- the creek indians are fast becoming rich road. the kansas public lands, what few from royalties, and many a simple-minded are left, are isolated, also, and well out to the white man, who scarcely realized the possi- extreme western corners of the state. ar- bility of his action when he secured a lease kansas has plenty of land, much of it so un- on oil land, has become suddenly burdened even that a man can graze his flocks on both with the worry of much wealth. frequently sides of it, they say down there, but it is far they are more harassed by the constant care from railroads, and does not meet the re- of their money than ever they were by the quirements of the colonist of to-day. load of poverty they have so suddenly cast for the home-seeker of these times is not off. one fellow was encountered in the seeking a refuge, merely. he wants a good mud-spattered street of keifer with $ , many of the comforts of life, and a few of in currency bulging his pockets, which he the luxuries. he is a man of the minute; he · was afraid to trust to a bank. there is means business. quick and reliable means of room in the indian territory—as it is still transportation are essential to his success; known in other parts of the united states; therefore, he would rather pay $ or $ an down there it is all oklahoma—for a multi- acre for the right kind of land near a railroad tude of energetic agriculturists. very soon, than to homestead it in the ozarks of missouri everybody's magazine or arkansas, or in the arid fastnesses of new and then the seed is sown. the campbell mexico or arizona. there are more men method has produced fifty bushels of wheat among the colonists of the new southwest to the acre in the panhandle of texas, and who go there with a thousand to twenty corn, oats, alfalfa, kafir corn, and milo maize thousand dollars, than who attempt it with in like proportion. one hundred. this fact accounts for the some of the far-sighted cattlemen, seeing tremendous growth of the texas panhandle, the result of these experiments and the in- any time you want to, you can draw a con- evitable consequences, caused a break in the tinuous straight line miles long in texas. traditions of their caste by cutting up their it would be undignified to descend to such a ranches and offering them for sale. immedi- scale of comparison as rhode island when ately the flood of immigration, which okla- speaking of texas. six states as big as iowa homa had ceased to absorb, broke over the could be cut out of texas, and good measure panhandle, and land values took an enormous given to each of them. there is more corn leap. the cattlemen sat back and chuckled. land in texas than in illinois, more wheat it was all right; let the suckers come. selling land than in the dakotas, while in the mat- land that cost them a dollar for from four to ter of fruit lands texas has california sub- eight dollars would do; they could stand that merged and heaped over and buried out of indefinitely. they thought they were getting reckoning. even. the piece of texas called the panhandle then along came another crowd of far- is the neck in the northwestern part of the sighted men, who snapped up the big ranches, state. it contains about , square miles, all they could buy, at the $ , $ , and $ or nearly one-third the area of kansas. it is prices. that was less than three years ago. a short-grass country, similar to west-central many of them have sold out entirely at a mini- kansas—where, within the memory of a not mum of $ an acre, and much of the land very old man, it was said that corn and wheat brought $ . the stories they tell of land would never grow-and it has been a grazing- fortunes are staggering, but they have the land for a long time. it used to be a country banks and mansions, japanese servants and of rangers, rascals, rattlesnakes, and remit automobiles, to prove them. tance men, and the biggest cattle-ranch on the x it ranch in the panhandle is the earth was there. biggest cattle-ranch in texas; therefore, the the cattlemen liked the panhandle—and biggest in the world. it is the property of they like it yet—although they used to sit and the new york land and cattle company, spit in the hotel lobbies at omaha and kansas and comprises ten counties, as the letters city and curse its name. it took five acres signify-ten in texas; and this vast tract of there to maintain a steer, against two in land was given in payment by the state of kansas, they said. it was a place of bitter texas thirty years ago to the company which winds, prairie-dog holes, and no rain. why built the magnificent state-house at austin. any man that wasn't there wanted to go there, texans, as well as a good many others, be- beat them! and that kind of talk went for lieved in those days that they had made a a good many years. the stockmen had the bargain. the cattle company grazed its farmers bluffed. but a man named camp- herds over this land for many years, free of bell, of colorado, with a little dab of whiskers taxes, and to-day it is being cut up and sold on his chin and a turmoil of new ideas in the in tracts varying from , to , acres. back of his head to balance them, got to fool. the land near railroads is bringing from $ ing around in that nice level country with to $ an acre. certain experiments. the lx ranch was another big one. three this campbell has a way of tilling semi- years ago it contained , unbroken sec- arid lands and getting amazing crops with- tions; to-day it is all sold in comparatively out irrigation. he makes no secret of the small tracts. a colony of german farmers method, which he calls “dry farming." from missouri bought seventy sections of this briefly, the plan is to work the top of the soil land. with disk plows and harrows until it is a bed scores of smaller ranches have been sold of dust. this acts as a mulch, just as straw, out, and the range stock-grower, who de- but far more effectually, and prevents the pended on the open prairie to feed his herds rapid evaporation of the moisture from the all the year, is being speedily eliminated. soil. the rainfall is stored in this manner, the panhandle is undergoing an adjustment; a choctaw lawyer and capitalist. l. c. hill and his seven children, all famous hunters. the beginnings of a new home in texas. everybody's magazine under the new order the old cattleman will he sets his hand to any other business. but a have no place there. the expert growers of day among the real-estate men, tearing here blooded beef cattle, from iowa and illinois, and there in quivering automobiles to look at are coming into his kingdom. five years land, helps to familiarize one with this new and the panhandle will see him no more. country. a man believes he may get big a great wheat country is coming on there. enough to grasp it in time. in a little while the panhandle yield will fig. when twilight falls over the somber flat- ure in the world's output as prominently as ness of the panhandle country, it is gray and that of kansas. the people are streaming vast, with the awesome sweep of the sea. the thither; all that is required is a year to break wind comes treading over it out of the dim the sod and get it in shape for grain. southeast and steals into the stranger's heart amarillo is the metropolis of the panhandle. and works its charm. in the morning he up there they pronounce it just as it is spelled wakes and wants to stay. it doesn't seem, in english, although it is a spanish word and somehow, to require the stories of forty-nine pronounced, properly, am-a-ree-o. but don't bushels of wheat to the acre, or of four cut- go calling it anything but amarillo—or tings of alfalfa, a ton and a half to the cut- amariller, if you pre- ting, to convince him. fer — up there. it's he seems to know at too far north. down once that he has but in san antonio they to strike the iron into know better, but in the heart of the land amarillo they think and the fountain will you're trying to gush forth. strain the amenities. anyway, the word it is a long leap means yellow, which from the panhandle is not at all inappro- to the gulf coast priate for the town. country around cor- things are a bit yel- pus christi and low in amarillo, but brownsville, and not the yellow of in- there is such a change sincerity. the tint in the face of nature might properly be that it is hard to con- charged to the intoxi- ceive how one state cation of rapid may be big enough to growth. they're the admit the diversity. same way in okla- a farmer's home in oklahoma. from short-grass and homa, a little heady, alfalfa and grain, to a little rash about tilting the ash end of their sugar-cane, cassava, oranges, bananas, and cigars up toward their noses, a little frothy, the boring intensity of a tropical sun, is like but sincere. five years ago nothing but a a change from kansas to florida. but texas name; to-day a population of , , and doesn't have to exert itself to give its people a rich agricultural country developing all climatic extremes. around it. that's amarillo. its hotels and along the southwestern gulf coast of texas, boarding houses are always full, swarming another lodging-place for northern immi- with home-seekers. if you want to make grants, a marvelous transformation is going sure of sleeping in amarillo, make your reser- forward. this region is becoming the win- vation some days ahead. ter garden of the north and east, and an home-seekers' excursions are usually timed industry, unique for texas, is growing up so that they reach amarillo in the early there with astonishing rapidity. there the morning, and the first sight of that flat coun- truck-gardener has, indeed, pushed the cattle- try, with the sky pressing down against it man out of sight. not much remains of him sharply and evenly on every side, is over- now, save the names of his ranches, which are whelming. it is something like coming sud- being parceled out at an average of $ an denly, for the first time, to the brink of a acre to energetic incomers from the north. tremendous cañon and looking down. a man t he southwestern gulf coast was once be- feels that he needs some time to grow before lieved to be as unarable as the panhandle, the sinews of oklahoma. "boomers" at lawton, waiting to join in the rush for land. owing to a stinted rainfall. it was a grazing- country, some of the big ranches of texas being located there, among them the king ranch, through which it was possible to ride forty miles in a straight line. the herbage was indifferent, from seven to ten acres being re- quired to maintain a steer. land was cheap, almost too cheap to bother about owning at all, and things went along at a picturesquely indifferent pace until somebody tried irrigat- ing a little patch of ground. the awakening was violent and sudden. ut tit st. lol is a ancisco three special cotton trains come to oklahoma city each day during the rush season. everybody's magazine three years ago a bit of a railroad, with a name almost as long as its main line—the st. louis, brownsville & mexico, it is called was finished between brownsville and corpus christi, being the first section of the road that now reaches houston. at that time there were five houses in which white people lived on the miles of road between brownsville and corpus christi. now there are above , heads of families, landhold ers, living in the same area, tilling the pro- ductive soil. of these, , settled within the past twenty months. some of the ranchers, convenient to water transportation, had been growing sugar-cane a long time before the railroad came, and now sugar-making appears to be one of the des. tined large industries of this prolific state. the lower valley of the rio grande, for a distance of miles inland from the gulf, is said by sugar-cane experts to be the most favorable spot in the united states for the cultivation of that plant. owing to its ex- treme southern latitude, miles south of the louisiana cane-fields, the crop may de- velop fully without danger of frost. planters in the lower rio grande valley give their cane a full twelve months to mature, against eight or ten in louisiana, where frost is always a menace later than october. the combined richness of the texas soil, un- equaled even in cuba, and favorable climatic conditions, place the yield of this region above that of hawaii. a planting of cane-"joints" will yield in texas profitably for eight years, against three years, at the extreme, in other cane-growing sections of the united states. texas has great plans for coming into the sugar-market of the united states, and com- ing in strong. great plantation companies are being organized, and the most extensive irrigation works on this continent are under process of construction in the rio grande valley. refineries are springing up there, and the companies building them are offering every inducement and assistance to industri- ous men of small means to come in and begin producing cane. the poor man's chance lies down there to-day on the texas frontier. another big business in the rio grande valley is that of growing bermuda onions. it is a recent industry there, but texas holds the market for bermuda onions in her hand to-day, so far as the united states is con- cerned. the planters who are engaged in this business are organized under the name of the western texas truck growers' associa- tion, and they pay an exclusive agent in san antorio a salary of $ , a year to market their product. one grower at laredo made from this year's crop of twenty-one acres, $ an acre, net. others in the onion belt realized as much as $ an acre, net, and this from land which some of them bought five years ago for a dollar and a half an acre. t ruck-gardeners in the vicinity of kings- ville, mercedes, and corpus christi have done as well with cabbage, tomatoes, cucum- bers, and other green stuff, which they ship north and east during the winter months. the evidences of nature's prodigality are stunning to the home-seeker who goes wading through fields of green vegetables in january. it is a land of such palpable richness that the newcomer is undecided upon one particular only—that is, where he shall stoop and begin filling his sack. the long-headed iowa and illinois farmers who visit this peculiarly fa- vored region almost invariably invest in land. ground at $ and $ an acre, which will give a yearly return of not less than $ per acre, net, looks good to them. all the southwestern gulf coast country of texas must be irrigated in order to make it productive. water underlies it in a broad river, which is reached at depths varying from to , feet. this underground river has its source far enough north to cause all the artesian wells which tap it to flow. the water comes forth from the deepest wells quite warm, and must be cooled for drinking. two years more will find this portion of texas a thickly populated, wealthy district, with land values more nearly based on the productiveness of the soil than at present. greater progress is being made there than in oklahoma, owing to the fact that the land buyers are generally well supplied with money at the beginning. they are for the most part the sellers of high-priced land in the north, and they are not obliged to await returns from their new possessions to improve them. like the west, and extreme southwest, this country long hid its generous heart under a grim and forbidding exterior, concealing its riches until the time when man should need them most. just a little while and the journey from sea to sea will be one unbroken picture of culti- vated lands. even now almost every moun- tain glade has its tenant, almost every moun- tain stream pours out its waters upon some green spot where the far-blowing seed of a crowding, restless race has lodged. the alchemists by katharine holland brown illustrations by e. m. ashe the last flurry of guests stepped from the | broad georgian portico, and trailed rainbow draperies across the shallow marble steps and through the silence of the deep gar- den to the wide rose-screened terrace that overlooked the sea. the two groups already assembled, standing in admirably careless differentiation, casually aloof, viewed their coming with a fleeting glance, then turned their faces again toward the great house, silent, intent. the bishop fidgeted with his prayer-book, and balanced first on one stout gaitered leg, then on the other, petulantly conscious of the moist rheumatic turf. the bride's mother, serene as an ivory goddess, drew a shade closer to her husband and looked up, smiling faintly, into his dry, im- passive face; the little gesture had the effect of a flawlessly executed bit of classic panto- mime. a swift breeze tossed the wreathed white orchids on the impromptu altar, then faltered and fell silent, as if the day itself drew a quick, hurrying breath of anticipation. for it was now close upon the hour. ranked as they were, in these two groups, so sharply defined and so inimical, yet seem ingly so chance in their division, the wedding guests were as two grim, powerful phalanxes, met on the common ground of a deep mutual demand, yet armed and watchful, even in the face of their neutrality: dutifully their faces had put on the holiday ease, the bridal cheer, like smiling masks. but here and there a mask had slipped awry, and the face of truth revealed itself: alert, fear-stricken, infuriate, exultant. t he bridegroom's clan stood massed against a tall rose hedge, flaunting, hostile, forlornly ill at ease. his elder sister, a splendid overblown beauty, arrayed as for a court presentation, towered to the fore. her regal head flung high; her shrewish crimson lips pouted, arrogant. with slow, dark, insolent gaze she stared disdainfully past the group across the lawn, up the broad flower- strewn path down which the bride's pageant must come. at her elbow shuffled her hus- band, pasty-cheeked, fretful, slinking. his dull eyes, set deep in puffy hollows, blinked peevishly; the crown of his pink bald head barely grazed his wife's imperial shoulder. with his loose, podgy body, his aimless hands, his greedy mouth of a fish, he seemed a ludicrous blood-brother to the fat, spoiled english pug which, escaping the servants' vigilance, now sniffed at his heels. one was irresistibly tempted to throw the two a bone, and watch them snatch. the bridegroom's father, suffocating but defiant, in unwonted pomp of prince albert everybody's magazine and circumstance of rigid linen, clenched his gracious ease around the flower-wreathed broad mottled fists, and stared into vacancy sapphire of the fountain, loitered the bride's with straining, cruel eyes. the bridegroom's people, stately, debonair, bland. her mother mother cowered behind her daughter, a scared stood in lily silence, one slim hand resting little shadow against the younger woman's upon her husband's arm. in her far youth sumptuous bulk. she stared toward the she had been a woman nobly planned for westering sun with blank, belligerent eyes; sweetness and for honor. but with her her stubbed little hands, betraying for all her sweetness was interwoven the dull indolence care the pitiful toil-scars of her youth, picked of thought, the calm indifference to every and fluttered among her stranded pearls. duty, that tarnished all her race. with utter terror, the blind, craven fear of her gentle, vacillating hands, she still clung to the caste, the dread of the stabs they could give, outworn illusions of her girlhood; and in her those cool, proud, pitiless others, pulsed in wilful blindness she could not see how tat- her heaving breast. yet she stiffened her tered they had become. fair, listless, charm- twitching mouth, and wryly smiled. ... ing, shallow as the fountain-basin at her feet, her husband never glanced her way. he she stood among her guests, and waited for stood as at the head of his forces, chest erect, the bridal of her child. harsh mouth unblenching, the very mark and the bride's father held his pose with pattern of grim, merciless triumph. to-day immovable self-control. now and then faint his was a world of triumph. this supreme, amusement glinted across his mouth. as this transcendent marriage for his boy, his he stood facing the blossomy wedding altar, only son, his darling, was the last tourney, his flat cold eyes half shut, his narrow tem- the final field. after all his years of struggle, ples drawn in languid scrutiny, he gave the of heaped defeat, of slow, heart-sickening toil, impression of a man so atrophied by some in- the conquest now lay in his hand. and all exorable inward force that scarcely a vital the fruits of conquest were for the boy, the pulse remained. that ruling egotism which boy alone. for himself—it did not matter. was the key to his nature, whose imprint was whether the locked gates of the world- stamped on every line of his face, had rulers should ever open to him, was of small crushed out every finer sense. like the account. for now his mighty wealth, flung mystics of the orient, he went self-slain. like a battering-ram against the weakened among all the men and women gathered fortifications of this loftier household, had to-day around him, he counted not one friend; forced those gates for his son; and the splen- for he bargained with life empty-handed of dor of this master-stroke outweighed twice even the smallest coin of patience or regard. over all that it had cost. even this man opposite, his opponent, so soon true, the price had been heavy; a sum to be hatefully tied to him by the indissoluble made up of laden days and endless slaving bond of their two children, he had humiliated nights, of hurtling combats, ruthless hand and affronted, day after day, year upon year. to throat, of lies and theft and inmeshed until at last—and again that baffling laughter treachery. however, the sum was paid. slackened his thin gray mouth-until had across from him, gray, exquisite, assured, come the incredible turn of the wheel, which stood the man who had crouched to snatch had lifted this bustling vulgarian, this new- that price, to save his own worthless name. comer, to the farthest heights, and had and in return this man had yielded this thrown him, heir of stately centuries, dazed daughter, the girl-bride, who, with the magic and helpless at the feet of this ignoble of her beauty and her lineage, was to make master. ... all ways smooth for this, his son. he slid his tongue stealthily along his ... for the moment, he forgot his rôle parched lips. if it had not been for this of the complacent parent: he passed a waver- miscreant's son, and his instant wild infatua- ing hand across his forehead, wet as with the tion for edith, he would now stand' face to sweat of his long fight. conqueror though he face with ruin. and worse than ruin. was, the chill of the failure that might have shame-ostracism-judgment- been, caught at his halting breath. coward however, the fool's determination to ad- to his blustering throat, he shrank and vance his son had bought rescue. he trembled before the face of this victory that could felicitate himself upon his own wise he had spent his soul to win. handling of the affair. clutching at the across the sweep of turf, clustered at straw of chance, he had invited his enemy and the wedding guests were as two grim, powerful phalanxes. the alchemists head. slowly, in the gold silence of the failing tightened on her hand; but his dark gaze day, the ancient, noble ordinance began. turned steadfastly to the east, where, side by side, the two great stars flamed ever “no, we don't really need any more con- deeper, twin beacons against the thickening fetti, thank you. there's a gallon down my night. neck, as it is. and we're not going to take “thatcher island lights,” breathed the peters along to run the car, either. jimmy girl. her sweet face grew wistful; for a and i are going to beech hill all alone, just breath she leaned her cheek against his arm. we two." the bride pushed her rumpled “jimmy, dear! won't you just always love floss of curls from her eyes, freed herself from them! do you remember?” the distracted embrace of half a dozen brides- “remember? remember what?” drawled maids, and swung into the driver's seat. the boy maddeningly. he ducked her in- “no, we'll be all right on our wedding-trip stant infuriate blow with lightning skill, then just by ourselves. truly!” wheeled with the same movement to silence “but jimmy won't watch his steering-gear her tempest of reproach with masterful kisses. with you along!” “and he'll scorch! he “jimmy, you little beast! to think you'd always does!” “and he'll spill things, or even dare pretend that you'd forgotten—that break things, or else run over somebody.” you could forget!” she pushed him away, “oh, jimmy, do be careful!” and plucked at the crushed folds of her veil, "jimmy will be careful,” vowed the bride- with airy preening. but again her eyes grew groom, leaping up beside her, with a little grave; her rosy laughter dimmed. laugh of sheer delight. his serious sun “do you know, jimmy, ridiculous as it browned face was flushed and afire; his black sounds, Í-i almost wish we were going there eyes overflowed with rapturous sparkles. now? just we two together-and the sea, “no scorching, no breakdowns, no murders, and the wind, and the stars! it would be no nothing. good-by, everybody! and almost as wonderful as it was—then. that a merry christmas, and a happy new other day.” year!” “would it?" pondered the boy, under his he dodged the heavy rose-sheaf aimed at breath. he slackened the car to a creeping his head by an excited bridesmaid, and flung pace. then he turned to her, gravely up his free arm to shield edith from the fare- smiling. well storm of blossoms and confetti. as “do you honestly think you'd like it, over though borne on viewless mighty wings, the there, edith? wouldn't it be lonesome, and great car leaped beneath his hand. down cold, and scary, after a while?. you know through the last sunset afterglow it sped, there's not a soul on the whole island but the across the spray-drenched lawns, then lighthouse-keeper; and that little fishing- plunged deep into the folding shadows of the shack of mine is all of a mile from the lights, twilight woods. at that. and it's a regular tepee; no furniture, “this isn't so bad,” he ventured, after a no telephone, no wall-paper-- while. “oh, jimmy, you stupid, that wouldn't the car had dropped to a long rocking matter. but— oh, beech hill will be glori- swing, easeful as the liſt of an anchored boat ous, i know, jimmy. and your father was a upon the summer tides. the narrow white darling, to fit it all up for us, and give it to us road gleamed like a ribbon of silver between for our very own. and we'll just adore it, far darkening fields. the late sea-fog every minute, that i know.' and it'll be drifted, gray trailing smoke, before their faces, grand and splendid, and we'll feel like people cold and sweet, and soft as down. away to in some wonderful play. but i couldn't help the east, two vast white stars pricked move thinking what fun it would be if we could run less flame against the dusky amethyst of ocean away from all of it, beech hill and everybody, and sky. and just stay by ourselves, all alone there- “no, this isn't so bad,” assented the girl. just we two!” she freed one strong brown hand from its “honest, edith?” the car had stopped glove, and slid it dexterously beneath his own now. the boy faced her, eyes aglow, brown upon the wheel. “you were a dear, jimmy, cheeks deep crimsoned in the waning light. to insist on our leaving peters behind. it's “honest true, jimmy, dear. and yet- loads more fun, just ourselves.” why, jimmy, what are you speeding so for? the boy did not reply. his fingers you'll break- why, how did we happen to the moments slipped like jewels through their clasping hands. ever be, their house of love, the place where gesture. the man looked down at her; the they had found their white-starred eden. color dropped swiftly from his face, leaving it mercifully holden by their own innocence, very white beneath the tan. he pulled her their eyes beheld in it no shadow and no closer to him. his boyish face grew suddenly flaw. neither harsh greed, nor cruel reckon- older, graver, purer; upon it flowed a light ing, nor slow web of low-flung trickery, could that made it almost sublime. the girl looked they see. the golden aura of their love il- up unknowing, a little awed; then the wonder lumined all those smirched lives to the in her gaze changed to secure content. unstained radiant seeming of their own. its silently, like two children, they kissed and heavenly alchemy transmuted even the dark- clung, rapt in the glory of the new day open- ness behind them to fair light. ing before them, blind to the shadow-world the girl leaned to him, with a little clinging that lay behind. a damsel in distress by eleanor hoyt brainerd author of "the misdemeanors of nancy," "bettina," etc. illustrations by maginol wright enright l'uphrosyne leaned back in the crotch administer justice, but to secure quiet. since c of the old apple-tree that was her the youngest of his offspring was the only one chosen refuge in time of trouble and gave her- who dared to disturb his peace, it was vitally self up to the luxury of brooding over her woe. important that she should be suppressed; and being so deplorably miserable was the next the quickest and most effectual way of sup- best thing to being very happy; but the child pressing her was to give her what she wanted. was too young to know that. it is only late hence, euphrosyne's tears. one by one, her in life that one quotes, “ah, les beaux jours most cherished possessions had been handed quand j'étais si malheureuse." over to the obstreperous baby, at her father's about one thing euphrosyne was quite stern command. to-day, even the beloved positive. she must not hate her little sister. doll, with real hair, and eyes that would open that would be wicked, and the blood of a and shut, had been surrendered; and the for- long line of puritan ancestors ran in this small lorn little mortal in the apple-tree felt that she woman's veins. moreover, if she should hate had plumbed the uttermost depths of grief. maia, it would be just like the horrid little a big apple, sun-warmed to rosiness, hung thing to get crippled, or die, or something, and just within reach of the woeful one's hand. then it would be awful to have hated her. she picked it and sank her teeth in it ap- the ground was familiar. euphrosyne had preciatively before she remembered that she been over it often; for that four-year-old sister, was too unhappy to find consolation in apples. though lovable in the rare intervals when she it is hard for even grown-ups to be consistently was good, was very, very horrid when she tragic; and childhood is a buoyant age. after was bad, and she was bad most of the time. all, euphrosyne argued, she might as well eat whatever her older sister held dearest, that the apple. of course it wouldn't taste very the baby invariably set her heart upon hav- good and she was just as miserable as ever; ing, and she always got what she wanted; for but there was no use in wasting a perfectly she had a system, a system solidly founded good apple. perhaps it would make her sick to upon precocious observation of cause and eat it when she was so sad, and, if she should cifect. be sick, perhaps she would die. it was an the one fundamental law of the converse attractive idea, and she fell to composing household was that the scholarly father who death-bed utterances, deeply religious but shut himself in his library day after day, and calculated to make maia and janet and her whom his motherless bairns encountered only father writhe in the pangs of remorse. at the dining-table, must not be disturbed. "frozzie!” janet, the old nurse, housekeeper, general the call came clearly to her ears, across the factotum, went on tiptoe past the library neighboring hedge, and her sullen little heart door. euphrosyne hushed her voice to give an extra throb of resentment. her name whispers in the hall. maia's method was was one of her heaviest crosses. it is an different, quite different. whenever any one awful thing to have a father steeped in greek crossed her or withheld what she wanted, she sentiment and without consideration for the sat herself down on the hall floor, before the feelings of posterity. maia was bad enough; study door, and howled lustily. the ex- but everybody called the baby may; and that pected promptly happened. the closed door was really rather nice--not stylish like gladys was sure to swing open abruptly and reveal a or dorothy but a sensible, pretty sort of name. coldly irate father whose one desire was, not to euphrosyne had always felt that, if her father a damsel in distress . it. was determined to make her greek, he might a voice from the rectory called rhoda, and have chosen a name capable of being short- she ran away down the garden path; but ened and sweetened for every-day use. turned to shout farewell and encourage- what could one do with “euphrosyne" save ment. shorten it to “frozzie?” such a horrid, un “i wouldn't wonder a bit if gladys asked tidy sort of a nickname! its owner loathed you. she isn't a particle stuck up and she told me friday that she thought you were real "frozzie!” sweet, even if you did look kind of queer.” euphrosyne looked across the hedge into euphrosyne accepted the sting in the tail dr. wilson's garden, where her chosen friend of the compliment cheerfully for the sake of of friends, rhoda wilson, stood among the the phrase that went before. that gladys asters, her upturned face brimming with marbury should notice her at all was much. excitement. that she should call her “real sweet” was “have you heard about the party?" rhoda good beyond belief. rhoda must have mis- asked in her high treble. euphrosyne felt a understood—but if she hadn't-if gladys had sudden surge of returning interest in life. said just that- the little girl in the ugly “no; where?” she answered, leaning down pinafore leaned her cropped head back from her perch, at hazard of life and limb. against a convenient pillow of rough bark “at gladys marbury's. it's going to be and gave herself up to rose-hued dreams. if grand. they're going to have ice-cream and gladys had said “real sweet," why perhaps- things from boston, and a real band to dance the wind swayed the arms of the old tree and to, and all sorts of surprises, and a young lady the dreamer, cradled in them, spun wonderful who just manages hopes and visions, children's parties is until, from far away, coming to run every- sounded the tinkle thing." of a tea-bell, which “how d' you sent her scurrying know?" houseward. “the marbury's as she trudged to cook told our el- school the next len." morning, the golden “hasn't anybody glamour of possi- got invitations yet?” bility faded from “oh, no; the both hopes and vi- party isn't till a week sions. of course from saturday.” gladys wouldn't ask for a moment her. why should euphrosyne looked she? she was a won- relieved. then she derful creature, that sighed-a sigh that gladys. euphrosyne made her checked had adored her ever pinafore heave since the first day stormily. she drove up to the “well, i won't be school in an amaz- invited.” ingly smart little rhoda inclined to cart, handed the optimism. reins to a groom in “oh, i guess livery, and a n- gladys will invite nounced to miss you,” she said en- curtis, the teacher, couragingly; but euphrosyne shook going to stay at the her head. oaks until christ- “no, she won't. it's different about you, mas and that she was to attend school while because your father's the episcopal rector they were there. and you have lovely hair ribbons and every- it was gladys herself, not the pony and thing; but i couldn't expect her to invite me.” cart nor the groom, that had moved euphro- maginclwright-cnricht maia's method was different. everybody's magazine syne to passionate admiration. here was the little girl of her dreams, the little girl who was all that frozzie had longed to be. gladys was slender, fair, graceful, golden-hạired, beautifully dressed. her thick blonde hair curled softly and was tied with wide, lustrous ribbons, her stockings were fine and showed no darns at the knees, her shoes were beauti- ful, her finger-nails were rosy and shiny and immaculately clean, her lips, when she smiled -and she did it very often-parted to show two rows of pearly white teeth, and her manners—well, her manners outsoared praise. small wonder that the beauty-loving little grub in the ugly school frock-chosen from a remnant counter by janet for wearing qualities rather than esthetic merit, and made up by that same dour janet with a view to economy of labor-fell down before this fairy princess and worshiped her. there were other worshipers, and most of them were more self-confident and aggressive than euphrosyne. they made the beautiful being from the oaks the center of a clique; and, though gladys herself was prone to smile impartially on all her schoolmates, her court circle drew hard and fast lines between the elect and the unworthy. euphrosyne was among the unworthy. to be sure, rhoda and other good friends were within the lines; but children are shocking little snobs, and even these friends, while recog- nizing frozzie's merits, admitted that her clothes put her beyond the pale of the gladys cult. euphrosyne had accepted the verdict with out a murmur, and she realized now, as she hurried toward the little white schoolhouse, that she had been silly even to dream that the fairy princess might step down from her throne and hold out a gracious hand to the least of her subjects. she stopped behind the big elm tree to pull off the brown wristlets which janet insisted upon her wearing to school for the purpose of saving her frock sleeves from wear and soil. how she hated those wristlets! they were the sign and symbol of all that shut her out from court circles, and the strength of her feeling about them had led her to the unusual length of deceit and disobedience. wear them before gladys? never. better to perish under punishment here and hereafter. she tucked the offending wristlets into her pocket and joined a group in the school yard. every- body was talking about the party. rumor of it had spread like wild-fire, and invitation possibilities were being discussed in hushed voices by eligibles and non-eligibles. the fairy princess drove up in her red- wheeled cart, and a number of the insolently sure ran forward to greet her effusively. euphrosyne looked at the adored one from afar and made no sign; but her wistful little face grew more wistful, and her kissable little mouth drooped mournfully at the corners. rhoda wilson came running along the road from the rectory and joined the group of courtiers. then, suddenly, the princess said something. euphrosyne could not hear what it was, but the attendant satellites melted away and gladys and rhoda stood alone, talking earnestly together. a moment later, both looked searchingly around the play- ground, and, locking arms, strolled across the yard to where a small girl sat digging her heels into the ground and staring gloomily at the holes they made. her mind was con- centrated upon the advantages of having a clerical rather than a scholarly father. of course rhoda was a dear; but if her father hadn't happened to he a rector—and just there rhoda's voice spoke her name, and, looking up, she saw the rector's daughter and the fairy princess standing before her. her eyes widened to the point of caricature, her voice stuck in her throat; but rhoda was smiling happily and the princess was smiling, too, in the friendliest fashion. “some way or other, i haven't got very well acquainted with you,” she was saying, half frankly, half shyly. “i thought you didn't like me, but rhoda says it's just a way you have with strangers. i wanted to ask if you'd come to my party. mamma is going to send invitations; but i thought i'd like to invite you specially, because i was afraid you wouldn't come unless i got you to promise." didn't like her! wouldn't accept an in- vitation to her party! euphrosyne's brain reeled; but her big eyes were smiling radiant- ly and her mouth had lost its mournfulness in a riot of dimples. “i'd just love to go," she said eagerly, "and it's sweet of you to ask me.” the school - bell rang and-marvel of marvels!—the princess slipped a friendly arm around the waist of the despised plaid frock, and euphrosyne found herself walking into the schoolhouse with royalty, while her world turned topsy-turvy and playmates who had snubbed her looked on with undisguised envy. just how she got through that school day she hardly knew; but, when school was dis- . aginel wright enright she saw the rector's daughter and the fairy princess standing before her. missed, she shot homeward like an arrow factory. there's no reason why you shouldn't from a bow. she must know her fate at once. go to her party, if you choose to forget that surely janet and father couldn't be cruel her family came up from nothing. i'll ask enough to say “no.” your father for you to-night.” in the front hall she dashed full into janet just here maia created a diversion. with maia at her heels. "i ’ants to doh pahty!” she announced “save us!” gasped the woman, when she vociferously. “'ants to doh pahty!” had regained her breath. “what's happened euphrosyne's happy face fell. she had a that you come into the house like a wild swift premonition of impending woe. “stop indian?” that,” commanded janet in ferocious but euphrosyne's cheeks were red, her eyes muttered tones. maia's “tantrums” were a sparkling. she did not waste time upon sore trial to her, and her disciplinarian soul apologies for, assault and battery. rebelled against the accepted method of deal- “oh, janet! gladys marbury is going to ing with them, but even she stood too much have a party, with a band and ice-cream and in awe of the cold-eyed, thin-lipped scholar to things from boston, and she's asked me—and argue with him. she wants me to be a special friend of hers- “stop that, you young screech-owl," she and, oh, janet, you do think father'll let me repeated, stooping to pick up the screaming go, don't you?" child and carry her away; but at that moment the scotch woman's grim face softened a the study door opened and mr. converse little. she loved these wee lassies whose stood surveying the scene. young mother, dying, had left them in her “janet, who has upset that child?" care; and, if her régime was harsh, it was so “she's upset herself, sir, and i do say—” from conviction, not from cruelty. began the woman, taking her courage in “and why shouldn't she want you for a both hands—but mr. converse cut her special friend? your grandfather was college short. president when hers was skimming soap in a “what is she crying about?” everybody's magazine “well, sir, miss euphrosyne's invited to a “what's the matter, little woman?” he party and the baby wants to go, too, and-" said gently to the checked gingham back. "ridiculous!” the word came with a snap euphrosyne sat up suddenly, disclosing a and warmed the cockles of euphrosyne's tear-stained babyish face and tragic wet eyes. heart; but she had misunderstood. she had not heard him coming, and astonish- “ridiculous that i should be interrupted in ment checked the fount of her tears. my work by such trivial matters. maia will “nothing,” she asserted mendaciously, in a be ill if she is allowed to cry like that, and you small, wobbly voice. know nothing disturbs me like illness in the the man smiled down at her, but the smile house. euphrosyne will take her sister to the was one of sympathy, not of amusement. party, of course.” that smile had won him many things from “but, father, it's a very special party and women of all ages, and it worked its spell she isn't invited and upon the heart-broken little woman at his “that's a matter of no consequence among feet. children. you heard what i said. you will “it's about the p-p-p-arty,” she said, with take your sister or you will stay at home your- a catch in her voice. he sat down on the self--and don't allow another scene of this ferns beside her; and, some way or other- kind to occur outside my door.” she scarcely knew how she found her cheek he was gone, and euphrosyne was staring resting against a rough but comforting coat at a closed door-a door behind which not lapel and an arm holding her cozily in a crook only her father, but a radiant vision of tran- made for that purpose. scendent joy had vanished. janet laid a not “now tell me all about it,” the man said, ungentle hand in sympathy upon one of the with such an air of being used to cuddling her small heaving shoulders, but the child shook and hearing about her troubles that it seemed it off and ran out of the house, valiantly chok- quite natural to tell him and she did. ing down the sobs that rose in her throat. she it was a long story. she had to tell him couldn't cry before any one and she must cry. about gladys, and there was so much to say the orchard was not remote enough for a about gladys; and then she had to make him grief like this. she ran past her favorite understand about father. it seemed hard for apple-tree without giving it a look, burrowed him to understand about father and, when he through an opening in the hedge, crossed the did, he muttered something between his teeth, road, climbed a fence, tearing a yard or two but she couldn't hear what it was. at last, from her skirt in transit, and plunged deep however, he knew the whole dreadful truth, into the shadowy woods beyond. she was and euphrosyne felt amazingly relieved by trespassing; but the owner of waldhurst was the telling. never at home and all her life she had tres- the man gave her a gentle little hug of passed here, unchidden. on she stumbled sympathy and whistled softly for a moment until the road was left far behind and the or two. woods grew hushed and mysterious. when “no chance of your father's changing his she came to a little brook, gurgling over mind?” he asked abruptly. euphrosyne gnarled tree-roots and mossy stones, she threw shook her head. herself, face downward, among the thick ferns “nor of the baby's changing hers?" along its bank and let the smothered sobs “no; she never stops till she gets things. have their way. she was a quiet child and course i can't take her. gladys didn't invite even her crying was not noisy; but all the her. i'd rather die than take her when she lavish misery of childish grief was in the isn't invited. there aren't going to be such choking sobs; and a young man, sauntering little girls there. i-i'll just have to stay among the trees, stopped to listen to the alien home--and nobody will ever invite me again, sound mingling with the brook's low chuckle. and gladys will be mad; and i've never been as he listened, his surprise melted into sym- to a real party.” she hid her face against the pathy. a child somewhere and in trouble! tweed-clad shoulder and cried again, while dudley martin loved children in an incon- the man patted her back encouragingly. sequent, bachelor fashion, and he hated un “couldn't she be bribed?” , happiness wherever he found it. stepping “bribed?” euphrosyne stopped crying and across the little stream, he followed the sounds turned a questioning face toward him. of woe, until he came upon the small girl “yes; couldn't we give her something she'd among the ferns. rather have than the party?” everybody's magazine "i don't know of anything. she's got all “never you mind. i'm a wizard at rescu- my things, anyway, and ing damsels in distress." “but she hasn't got all my things. not by she caught at the phrase. a long sight. when is this party?” “like sir lancelot?" “next saturday.” “well, more or less like sir lancelot.” “oh, we have lots of time! what's your “are you a knight?” name, little one?” “fair lady, i am.” “euphrosyne." she would have hated “knights don't wear clothes like those.” him if he had laughed, but he didn't. “they do nowadays. where did you find “why, she was the goddess of joy, wasn't out so much about knights?" she?” he asked quite seriously. “it won't do “father left a book in the sitting-room once. at all for you to cry. what's your father's it was spelled perfectly crazy; but it made name?" sense after you got used to it-and it was “richard ordway converse." lovely—all about king arthur and beautiful “oh, he's the greek shark, isn't he?" ladies and fairies and fighting and sir lance- euphrosyne didn't altogether understand; lot and lots of things. and then, just as i but she knew and hated the word greek, so was in the very best part, father came along she nodded. and took the book away. it's in the study once more the young man lapsed into now and i'm not allowed in the study.” silence, but finally he laughed. she told it all quite cheerfully; but once "it will jar dixon," he said to himself, more the man said something bad-tempered “but i guess it will do the trick.” then under his breath. he patted the round little head on his shoul “well, i'm your knight,” he added, spring- der. ing to his feet. “sir dudley of waldhurst, “cheer up. i have a scheme. has that at your service. a gage, lady! a gage!" baby ever been to boston?” she looked up at him with puzzled eyes. euphrosyne, great eyed and wondering, “a knight must wear his lady's favor," he shook her head. explained; and, “has she ever stooping, he tore ridden in a big off a tiny shred motor car?" from the pinafore “no, sir." hem with which the wonder was the fence had growing, buthope worked such was springing in havoc. smiling its wake. down at her, he “you would drew the little rather go to the piece of checked party than do gingham through anything else?" his buttonhole "oh, yes, sir.” and fastened it “well, you are there. going. now don't "run home, bother that little lady mine, and head another trust me. the minute. it's all baby won't want settled. that to go to your baby is going to party.” scorn your party. she sped swift- she wouldn't go ly away through with you at any lady! a gage!" the woods. once price.” she stopped to the small girl's face was breaking out in look back. he was standing where she had smiles, but her eyes were still incredulous. left him and he waved a friendly hand. “you can't.” for several days nothing unusual happened “i can.” in euphrosyne's little world; but the child “how?" went breathlessly, waiting for a sign and “well, i'm your knight," he added. "a gage, a damsel in distress dwelling 'twixt hope and fear. then, late one sanctorum, an honor seldom accorded to afternoon, as she and maia were making acorn guests, while out in the hall a small, excited dolls on the front stoop, a gorgeous, big red girl watched the study door. . motor car swooped down the street and a half hour later mr. martin went down brought up suddenly before their gate. maia the path to his car, accompanied by his host, dropped her acorns and scrambled to her feet, who was talking earnestly, and who shook half frightened by the apparition; but hands with the departing guest in a fashion euphrosyne sat still, a vivid color creeping almost cordial. into her cheeks. her knight had kept faith a t the tea-table that night mr. converse with her. he was coming up the walk. spoke to janet about the caller of the after- what, oh what, was he going to do? she noon. was prepared for anything, but her heart “young mr. martin was here to-day, beat fast as she screwed up her janet. yes, mr. martin who toes inside her shoes to steady owns waldhurst. he hasn't been her courage. and, after all, noth- here before in years — traveling ing startling happened. sir dud- most of the time, i gather. he is ley hardly looked at her; but he just back now from a year in the stopped where maia stood poised orient with a friend — a young chubbily 'twixt retaining curiosity professor dixon of harvard. the and impelling fear, and he smiled professor had come across some at the baby—the smile that had early greek manuscript about won euphrosyne's confidence in which he was in doubt, and know- the woods. ing me by reputation, mr. martin "how do you do, baby?” he took the liberty of asking me to said, very politely; and then, drop- clear up the matter. a very ping into a confidential tone, he agreeable young man, very agree- added: “could you tell me of any able, indeed. i wish he might one who would eat some choco- settle down in waldhurst. it is late creams i happen to have in refreshing to find in a young man my pocket?” of this generation a proper rever- maia promptly abandoned all ence for a superior intellect. he idea of flight. mainel wright cariant has left the manuscripts with me “ess!” she said condescend- "i know tomebody ... and will come back for them fri- ingly. “i tould eat 'em.” the tandy!" day afternoon. please remind me man looked surprised, but pleased. of that fact on friday morning.” “could you really? now that is lucky. “yes, sir,” said janet. wasn't it fortunate i thought of asking you euphrosyne listened, steeped in guilt but about it?" happy. she didn't understand, but she had he brought out a bag from one of the faith. maia listened, too, and made a mental pockets of his big motor coat and handed it note to the effect that friday was chocolate- to maia, who put two chocolates into her cream day. mouth at once and momentarily lost the immediately after dinner on friday, the power of speech. two children settled themselves upon the "is mr. converse at home?” asked the front stoop of the converse house; but it was visitor. not until four o'clock that, with a whir, a roar, euphrosyne sprang to her feet. and a dying groan, a motor car stopped at the “yes, sir. i'll ask if he can see you." gate, and sir dudley, dispenser of chocolates, "thank you—if you will kindly give him greek manuscripts, and succor for damsels this card.” in distress, came briskly up the walk. maia. mr. converse usually resented being inter- met him half way. rupted and euphrosyne delivered the card in "i know tomebody tould eat tandy,” she fear and trembling; but as he read the name announced in a guileless, impersonal manner. and the few lines added in pencil, her father's “will you look her up and give her these face cleared and took on an expression of with my compliments?” asked the man flattered interest.. gravely. “show mr. martin in,” he said; and sir “ess, i will." dudley was welcomed to the sanctum the greedy baby toddled away with the tould eat ine everybodyer 's magazine atta ava bag, and mr. smiled his frank, martin turned to disarming smile. ja net, who ap- “i'm tremen- peared in the dously fond of doorway. children, sir. i • “mr. converse wonder if you said to show you would put me still in, sir.” further in your “thank you.” debt by making once more the this little woman little accessory over to me for a before the fact maps while to-morrow. waited, while the i'd like to give her wheels of fate a ride in my car, spun round. and i'd be very maia came back careful of her. my without a bag and chauffeur could with a smile of re- drive and i could pletion upon her just look out for baby face. it was her. we could go a long time before down to boston visitor and host and get a big doll came out into the and — i'd really hall; and, when take very good they did, euphro- care of her, sir.” syne held her if he thought breath. surely that the baby's something would father was hesi- happen now. the tating from any party was but concern as to the twelve hours such a hurrying and scurrying as there was. safety of his child, away. the petitioner was “it has been a pleasure,” her father was altogether mistaken. sheer surprise had re- saying, with a frosty little laugh that tinkled duced mr. converse to silence, and he stared sharply like ice against a glass. “i am de- incredulously at the speaker. that any one lighted to have cleared up the difficulty for should actually desire a child's society for an the professor. if he should be in this neigh- afternoon was beyond his understanding, and borhood at any time, i should be glad to go this young man had seemed a very rational over the matter with him in person. thank fellow, too, serious and intelligent beyond his you. i seldom make visits but i shall be years. however, since he had his weaknesses glad to see you whenever you can find time and since a longing for maia's company was to drop in, and i should be much interested one of them, there was no particular reason in seeing those other manuscripts if you why he should not be indulged. should ever have them here." “it is very good of you, i'm sure. you are he was almost effusive. even baby maia quite welcome to her,” said the fond parent, looked at him wonderingly. then she trans- in a tone from which he failed to eradicate all ferred her attention to the young man who the contemptuous amazement. leaned over to put a hand under her fat chin “would you like to go, baby?” asked the and tilt her face up toward his. man in the motor coat. maia looked as sur- “did you ever have a motor ride, baby?” prised as her father-also a trifle suspicious. he asked. she was not used to amiability in men and maia shook her head and rolled a wary eye she "feared the greeks bearing gifts." toward her father, whose theory that, in the “in vat?” she asked, pointing a chubby presence of company, children should be finger at the car. neither seen nor heard, had been impressed “yes." upon even her volatile infant mind. “fast?" the visitor turned abruptly to his host and “well, pretty fast.” maginel wrigitt enrigt a damsel in distress “and a drate bid doll?” of ruffles and shining of shoes slightly scuffed “yes.” at the toes! janet had laundered the little “wiv open and shut eyes?” white frock with consummate skill. janet “certainly.” produced, too, from some unknown source, “in boston?" a blue sash ribbon of surpassing grandeur “yes." and a little gold locket which euphrosyne's “well, i dess i'll doh,” said the young lady, mother had worn to child parties in old boston with infinite condescension. euphrosyne town. and this same grim but loving janet gulped down a very large lump in her throat. escorted a happy little girl, somewhat awed by "i'll come around about two o'clock to- consciousness of her own elegance, to the morrow,” mr. martin said as he hurried door of the marbury house. away. “indeed, your mother's daughter doesn't it never occurred to mr. converse that his go to parties without a maid to take her and older daughter might have been included in the fetch her,” she said haughtily, when euphro- treat; but janet, when she heard of the affair, syne protested. resented hotly the slight to her favorite bairn. that was a glorious afternoon, an after- "well, i must say i don't think much of his noon to furnish dreams for years to come. heart or his manners, if he is a millionaire,” euphrosyne's cup of joy was full, pressed she announced stoutly, when she had heard down, running over. didn't gladys choose all the story from the two children, euphro her for partner in the very first game, and syne acting as narrator and maia coming in, didn't she sit between gladys and rhoda at like a greek chorus, with echoes of the im the table, and didn't mrs. marbury call her portant phrases. a dear little thing and ask her to come and see "he never said a word about taking you, gladys often, and weren't there paper caps miss euphrosyne? well, of all the " and favors and baskets of candy to carry euphrosyne pulled the irate woman's head away? but the best thing of all was await- down and whispered something in her ear. ing her at home. “oh!” said janet, with sudden compre- maia, tired, dusty, but garrulous and gay, hension. “oh, you'd rather-i see, i see.” was sitting on the steps when her sister came then she added diplomatically, with a side- back from wonderland. in her arms was a long glance at the triumphant maia: “well, doll almost as large as herself and beside her it's a great thing for the baby, and a shame lay a white package. she boiled over into re- that you can't go, too." cital of her adventures as soon as euphrosyne the day of the party dawned cloudless and and janet came within hearing. bright; but no word of the important function “and vere was a chicken and we wunned was spoken in the converse household. wight over it and it said squawk, and vere maia had quite forgotten the affair in her was ice tream at a drate bid hotel, and vere brilliant prospects; mr. converse never bur- was dolls and dolls, and vis was ve vewy dened his mind with details which did not biddest one—and vat's for oo!” she came immediately affect him; and euphrosyne and to a sudden full stop and pointed at the janet cannily refrained from reminding the white package. wonderingly, euphrosyne sat baby of her original plans for the day. there down upon the steps, untied the string, un- was no knowing. even the motor ride and wrapped the paper, and brought to view a boston and the big doll might not prove large volume bound in blue. one glance told counter attractions strong enough. her what it was, for the words“ king arthur” at two o'clock sir dudley appeared and shone bravely golden against the blue. for bore off his dimpling and excited young lady; a moment she hugged the book to her heart. but as he went he turned to smile at a small then she laid it gently upon her knees, and, girl who was watching from the dining-room as she did so, it opened at the fly-leaf. there, window, and he gave a friendly little pat to a written in clear, round letters, she read: queer shred of blue and white checked cotton "for the ladye euphrosyne, that he wore in his buttonhole. from her faithful knight and true such a hurrying and scurrying as there was friend, in euphrosyne's little room when the auto- mobile had disappeared in a cloud of dust! dudley of waldhurst.” such . remorseless cleaning and scrubbing, and the afterglow of that day of happiness such brushing of stubborn hair and pinching was better than its high noon. photograph by hall, new york. john drew and billie burke ix "my wife." shplayers r un-play drama seems to be the thing. leader” so conscientiously, so enthusias- u no fewer than six such explosive playstically, as theatrical managers. any play opened the present theatrical season in new that makes a real success is bound to be york, and still there's more to follow. the trailed by many that try for a similar ap- daily slaughter is frightful, and the expendi- peal. western drama has had first place ture of ammunition so prodigal as to console for several seasons, and it appears to be cartridge manufacturers for the absence more popular than ever. william a. of actual war. brady, one of the most astute of the there isn't a boys' gang in the coun- managers, says that the vogue of this try that plays the game of “follow my kind of play is largely due to president the players roosevelt, who has done so much to arouse i ever saw incorporated in a play, saves interest in the west and to make out-of- “the round-up" from being merely a rather doors attractive. cheap melodrama. the play has comedy, in these advanced days, when one rather too, real comedy. expects to hear babes babble about psychology “the round-up" was written by edmund -so familiarly is the word bandied about— day, formerly an actor who filled in with gentlemen who think professionally and draw newspaper work between engagements, and salaries for it will probably tell us that the who latterly has been writing vaudeville reasons for the popularity of gun-play drama sketches. he has devised some excellent lie deeper than the explanation given by mr. scenes and situations, but they are strung brady. the propaganda of a popular presi- along in an incoherent fashion, and the story dent helps, of course, but the thinking gentle is wabbly and impossible. if he had men would probably assure us that these plays eliminated the plot altogether, keeping the have a breadth, a bigness, a generousness- comedy and that gorgeous fight, i am not especially if they are redolent of the soil— sure but that the audiences would have liked that are lacking in modern plays of the draw- the play better. clearer characterization would ing-room. when a have helped greatly. people is prosperous, except where the when the wolf doesn't players have come to dream of venturing the rescue, mr. day's from the tall timbers, people seem to be individual human be- mere puppets - cow- ings are peculiarly boys mostly—taken receptive to fine, big, out of stories and primitive emotions. other plays. and they like to feel the cowboy seems to themselves in close be as elusive as he is contact with nature. popular for stage pur- then, too, these poses. the only gun plays are melo- characteristics upon dramas, and melo- which the play- dramas are the best wrights agree appear plays of all. real to provoke the sharp- melodrama produces est criticism from thrills that have high those supposed to commercial value, know the ranchman especially on the intimately. stage. people are never has mack- willing to pay hand- lyn arbuckle made somely for them in a part stand out so time and money. prominently as he “the round-up" does “slim” hoover, proves that. it has the sheriff, although about two and a half he is not on the stage hours of play and a great deal. his possibly fifteen sec- own opinion of “the onds of thrill, and round-up," private- these seconds make ly expressed, is inter- it a rattling, banging, esting: whooping success. “the actors jump there is a fight that out of their holes, starts one's blood to run down to the galloping, that makes footlights, bark a one want to yell with few minutes, and frantic abandon; and lulu glaser in the title role of then run like — this fight, really the to give the scenery a finest stage spectacle chance." photoniph by hall, new york "lola from berlin." everybody's magazine copyright, , by f. c. bangs, new york. wright lorimer as austiv in “the quicksands." as a matter of fact, the scenery is working all the time, for this play is one of the most magnificent scenic productions that new york has seen. mr. arbuckle himself doesn't bark at all. he gets humorous effects without the slight- est apparent effort. he knows the kind of character he portrays, as he proves by a score of details—his costume, the toeing-in when he stands, his manner of handling revolvers. incidentally, it is a relief to see stage cowboys and western gun-fighters who ignore triggers when they shoot. if there is anything the real westerners despise it is a self-cocking revolver. they either snap the hammer with a thumb or "fan” it. mr. arbuckle gives the finishing touch to his portrayal when he rolls a cigarette with one hand, and it is rather curious that this is always roundly applauded. despite the fact that he oozes fun and good nature, the actor gives the im- pression that back of it all “slim” hoover is a man of great force. orme caldara does the hero as well as such an impossible person could be counter- feited, while harold hartsell makes buck mckee, the bad man, nearly human. the comedy cowpunchers, especially the fresno of charles abbe, are highly entertaining. in the language of the stage, mr. abbe is a great “bit” actor, which means that he can make a minor character, one that is on the stage but a few minutes at a time, impress itself in- delibly on the minds of an audience, but is not neąrly so successful in sustaining a long part. the author has made the women of “the round-up” mere abstractions; they are only necessities of the dull plot. florence rock- well struggles hopelessly with echo allen, while julia dean, lately the star in “the little gray lady,” has more success with polly hope, the poor relation. apart from mr. arbuckle, it is the produc- tion—which means the superb scenery, the costuming, the color, the massing and handling of a great number of people, in short, all the spectacular effects, especially that wonderful fight — that makes “the round-up" the success that it is. it has been three years since a new play has come from the pen of augustus thomas and much was expected of him. when it be- came known that he had chosen the border for his theme, it was expected that he would give us a drama as fine as “arizona." that dustin farnum, who emerged from obscurity to make a remarkable hit in “the virginian,” was to star in the new thomas play added to the pleasure of anticipation. it is uncom- fortable to record that “the ranger” failed to meet expectations. of these two new gun plays, one is strong where the other is weak. “the ranger” has a good story, logically told, a really interesting story, but the situations are mere episodes, and the climacteric scene doesn't get hold of one. it is a melodrama with only near- thrills. yet there are ever so many things about “the ranger” that are worth while. for photograph by lawyer, chiungo. florence rockwell, leading woman in " tie round-up." the players one thing, it shows how civilization is driving ro- mance out of the united states. the playwright, therefore, who is seeking it, must either go back into history or cross the border to find those primitive con- ditions where romance can flourish, where elemental passions have full play- those passions that have so direct and powerful an appeal. there is no doubt of the primitive quality of a country that produces a heroic figure like captain esmond, and at the same time fosters a deep-dyed villain like harrington, who would be ridiculous in a modern drawing-room play. long ago augustus thomas took rank with the masters of stagecraft, and never has his art shown to greater advan- tage than in “the ran- ger.” merely as a picture of life and conditions across the rio grande- the scene is laid in mexico, just over the border-it is worth while. the charac- terization, the scenery, the costuming, the property ac- cessories—all impress one that stage art could go no farther and keep within truth. mr. thomas has half a dozen spaniards or mexicans in the cast, and the best touch of all is the pompous little mexican policeman, barefooted, with soiled white trousers, and an old uniform blouse and cap. the man who takes the part is a cigar- maker by trade, and has had no previous stage ex- perience. he alone is al- most sufficient to give the production the hall-mark of fidelity. certainly he is the finest touch in the play. photograph by hall, new york. iiuxtley wright as joe mivens, flossie hope as eliza, and the ciori's in the dairymaids." nu paulupit by vurant, vew lozk. florence nash in "the boys of company b.” grace george playing in “divorcons." everybody's magazine the dialogue is of the kind that mr. thomas has led us to expect from him, terse, clear, vigorous—but he has carefully re- frained from letting any humor creep into it, and humor is perhaps mr. thomas's strongest asset. certainly, the character of captain esmond would be vastly improved by humor, and possibly dustin farnum would not then shooting. it is a curious mixture of strength and weakness, and shows the antagonism of themes that was so irritatingly noticeable in “strongheart.” william c. de mille wrote “strongheart” all alone; in writing “class- mates" he had the assistance of margaret turnbull. the first act of “classmates." takes place at west point and has the horse-play l'hotograph by hail, new york. walter percival singing "story book days" in "the lady from lant's." play the heroic texas ranger in such highly supposed to indicate joyous, effervescent heroic fashion. the naturalness, the repose, vouth, but the actors are sad imitations of the simplicity that made his virginian so ad- cadets. the second act, in a new york draw- mirable seem to have disappeared. he poses ing-room, has interest, while the third, in the and swaggers outrageously. mr. thomas heart of the amazon jungle, has originality goes in for naturalness, which may explain and great strength. it is in an altogether dif- why he has his actors speak in so low a tone ferent key from the rest of the play, so far re- that they can scarcely be heard, and mr. moved from the mushy first act that one farnum, who has one of the finest voices on marvels how an intelligent mind could put the the stage, is the worst offender in this re two together. this third act grips one and gard. he can read with fine intelligence, saves the play, making one almost willing to sure phrasing, and real feeling, and there is forgive the counterfeit youth in the preceding no excuse for his indistinctness. acts. but it is impossible to escape the regret it is misleading to call “classmates” a gun that the authors did not have greater skill play; in fact, it is difficult to classify it at all. in getting the characters into this situation. there is a liberal display of weapons but no robert edeson has the heroic rôle, but there the players are two other fine acting parts. it is unusual as a light comedian. in fact, some of us had for a star to accept a play that gives others forgotten that in this field mr. drew has better opportunities than his own rôle, so un- no equal on the american stage. usual that actors think it never happens inten the theme of "my wife” is old enough: tionally. but mr. edeson is not only an a bachelor marries a young girl out of pure honest, sincere actor but a manly man who kindness, to save her from another match, isn't disposed to "hog everything in sight”- and with the understanding that they shall to drop into the stage vernacular. he is very be divorced so that she can wed a man with willing that others shall have every chance to whom she believes herself in love. of course distinguish themselves. he does fine work as husband and wife really come to care for each duncan irving. other in the end. it is the treatment, not the so far as prominence goes, bubbie dumble theme, that gives the comedy real distinction. should be the star part. he has all the laugh- to begin with, all the characters are people ter-provoking situations, all the bright lines- of flesh and blood, clearly drawn and always and they are bright. there is a scene in the interesting. then, the play is remarkably last act where bubbie is waiting to be married well constructed. it moves swiftly and lo- and where he interrupts a dozen times to ask gically; there is significance as well as humor “what time is it?” that is delicious. frank in its situations, in the play of personalities. mcintyre plays bubbie with a natural unctu- the story is developed naturally and force- ous comedy, a fine sense of humor, and a fully. the dialogue is immensely clever, naturalness that stamp him as a real actor without being in the least forced and arti- to be sure, no fourth-year cadet was ever ficial, and there isn't a dull moment in the so fat as mr. mcintyre, not by a hundred four acts. it isn't much of a stage produc- pounds or so—they train them to the bone at tion, but the play is so good that one forgets west point—but no one bothers about that, the scenery—and that is most astonishing in for mr. mcintyre keeps the audience bub- these days. bling when it isn't roaring at him. mr. drew is on the stage most of the time, the villain of the play, who after all is only and it has been long since he has been seen a weak cad, falls to the lot of wallace ed- to such excellent advantage. his intelligent dinger, who proves that he is really an able reading of the crisp dialogue, his by-play, his and versatile actor. this is notable because subtle naturalness in scoring points, remind he was a youthful prodigy, one of the three one of the old augustin daly days. truly, far-famed children who played little lord he is “everything that goes with evening fauntleroy ever so many years ago, the others dress.” he is that rare thing, an absolutely being tommy russell, who long since retired finished actor. from the stage, and elsie leslie, who is still he has a new leading woman who doesn't acting in a sweetly pretty way. in the third seem in the least depressed because she is act of “classmates” mr. eddinger is shown called billie burke. miss burke came to wandering about in the jungle, crazed by new york fresh from london triumphs in fever and hunger, and haunted by delusions, comedies with and without music. she is an which he portrays with a graphic, repressed american-by birth, at least—and she began realism that is most impressive. the women her stage career in this country. she didn't in the play are rather insipid, hardly worth make a marked impression, so she went to the trouble that is taken for them. london, where she developed rapidly. it is most difficult to adapt successfully a miss burke is really a fine type of what is french comedy into english, because the usually referred to as the “onjynoo,” but not standards of the two peoples are so different. the pert, pretty, and insipid kind recently now, and then, as in “the marriage of most familiar, for she is a real actress. she kitty," the english version is really better has originality, naturalness, and personal than the original because of the elimination of charm. she is a trim little woman with a things that appeal to the french and that we round face, questioning eyebrows, a delicate don't discuss publicly. and one may believe mouth, and a nose that should be tilted if it that this is also true of “my wife, which is not. one of the best things about her is michael morton has anglicized with great her laugh, a rippling, spontaneous laugh that skill, to the immense benefit of john drew. compels others to join in-a blessed thing for he is given an opportunity he has not to possess. known in years to display his marvelous finish all the players in “my wife” are ad- plain labels on germ enemies by william hanna thomson. m.d., ll.d. editor's note.-do you know that three-fifths of all human deaths are caused by germ diseases ? suppose some one were to say to you, “i can tell you all about germs and contagious diseases in such a manner as to enable you to understand once and for all what they are, and exactly how and why they affect our bodies." wouldn't you tell him to go ahead ? that is just what dr. william hanna thomson has done here. the article is a marvel of simple exposition and is the spirit extract of many thousand volumes. n othing in our age has equaled the diseases. but this view was then received progress of medicine in the knowledge with general incredulity and ridicule, which of that large class of accidental diseases which continued for years. it was but lately that i may be grouped together as “the infec- learned that the eminent pathologist henle tions.” it is well to emphasize their accidental took a similar position in a paper published nature from the start, because accidents are thirteen years before mine. preventable, and we should not cease insisting i make this historical reference because that the great havoc which these diseases both the community and the profession are occasion, amounting to at least three-fifths of still suffering from the influence of old errors all human deaths, scarcely need occur if about infections in delaying the formation of proper precautions were taken against them. a popular terminology which would define the human body, by none of its processes, clearly the different classes of these diseases. normal or abnormal, can give origin to a thus to the misuse of the term “conta- single one of these deadly agents, any more gious" may truly be ascribed not only the loss than a field does to whatever grows in it; of unnumbered lives, but also the infliction they are living things, and all the body does upon multitudes of needless suffering and in- is to furnish the soil for their development. justice. the state medical society of massa- it is curious how slow the medical pro- chusetts, for example, issued in , a cir- fession was in accepting the doctrine that cular for the information of the public assert- these agents are living things and owe their ing that asiatic cholera, then beginning to be properties wholly to that fact. this should epidemic, was not at all contagious, but was have been surmised long before it was de- due to a miasm pervading the atmosphere. monstrated by the microscope, because the both these statements operated as mis- distinctive features of the most familiar in- chievous mistakes, the first because it implied fections-namely, a first period of incubation that if a disease is not "contagious” it is not specific to each, followed by a similar period communicable, whereas cholera, which is in- of development, which ends at last in a great deed not contagious, may be carried thou- reproduction of the original agent in the body, sands of miles. from the sway of the second thus showing that it always breeds true— error the profession has only lately been are all characteristics of living things only delivered. there is no miasm. the whole and never of any mere physical or chemical conception which formerly filled the minds of agents. medical men, of noxious vapors or gases after beginning my professional life as causing disease by rising into the air from acting physician of the new york quaran- miasmatic swamps, ditches, or soils, has been tine hospital in , i published a paper in finally dispelled by the demonstration that (american medical times, september, there is no such thing as malaria in the sense ) in which i maintained that nothing of a bad air, but that the disease is due solely but the action of living organisms could to a hypodermic injection, by a mosquito, account for the phenomena of communicable of a dose of micro-organisms. there are, everybody's magazine therefore, no unhealthy places nor climates, fully examined the kansas soil, water, and as such, but localities instead which medical air without finding any explanation therein, science can make as salubrious as any, by dis- but they found a kansas tick, which crept infection. up the hoofs of the cattle and bit them the need, however, of an adequate just above the fetlock. they took some of terminology which would enable the com these ticks, first down to texas and then munity to discriminate at once between the others to illinois and ohio, and let them bite different kinds of infections, cannot be over- cattle in those widely separated places, with estimated. both the slowness of the public to the unvarying result of killing the cattle with cooperate with the profession for the preven- billions of these parasites eating up their tion of epidemics, and the disgraceful panics, blood-corpuscles. often entailing great commercial losses, which they occasion, are largely due to a prevailing the malarial mosquito confusion about the meaning of terms. we need not wonder at the uncertainty of the the last step completed the demonstra- public on this subject when, but a few years tion, when they discovered that these ticks ago, the new york academy of medicine themselves were infected about their mouths had to call the medical officials of the new with the identical parasite which afterward york board of health to account for a public multiplied in the cows' blood, and which the announcement, by them, that tuberculosis is ticks thus communicated when they bit. a contagious disease. the public under- the question, therefore, at once arose, stands what a contagious disease means from what creature bites us? of course, that smallpox. everybody, including his dearest nocturnal musician, the mosquito. but there ones, should fear to approach such a patient. are varieties of mosquitoes, and the in- acting on the suggestion that tuberculosis also quiry was halted for a long time by the in- is contagious, employers have mistakenly vestigators' failing to find any kinds of discharged scores of unfortunate consump- mosquitoes which were worse than mere tives, for them and their families to starve. nuisances, until finally it was decided to try what we particularly need, therefore, are the mosquitoes which lived and bit in par- terms that will indicate the ways by which ticularly malarious places. the pontine these diseases are usually propagated. when marshes in italy had always been celebrated the ways are understood, then, and only then, for malaria, and so some of the local insects the devising of means for preventing their there with handsome spots on their wings propagation becomes feasible. were caught by italian savants and sent to a convent in the apennines whose inmates never had malaria. when the mosquitoes texas cattle and kansas ticks were let loose there upon some men, straight- for it is by no means enough to know what way the men had ague. likewise, a batch of the offending micro-organism is; we must also pontine mosquitoes was sent to london, know how it manages to get in. thus where two medical students volunteered to laveran, a french surgeon in algiers, in have their hands bitten by them. both these demonstrated that malarial fever is caused by young men had their blood filled with la- an animalcule that eats up our red blood- veran's animalcules in thirty-six hours. an corpuscles. but how it comes to enter the english commission of doctors was sent to blood could not be imagined, until the dis- camp in those deadly swamps for a year, which covery in of the cause of texas cattle they did, protected by wire netting, without fever, by two american surgeons, kilburn one of them becoming infected. and theobald smith, threw light on the now, in daily practise nothing is often so subject. the cattle, when they started in puzzling to decide as whether the ailments of a droves from texas for chicago, had nothing patient are due to malaria or not, for it can the matter with them, but while passing wear more disguises than any sneak-thief; through a district in kansas they caught a but if it is malaria, then a drop of blood under pernicious fever which these surgeons, de- the microscope tells that the patient has been puted by the united states government to visited by that hungry mosquito called investigate the subject, found to be due to a anopheles claviger, after he has gorged blood parasite similar to laveran's parasite himself with the blood of another already in- of human malaria. the surgeons care- fected human being. therefore, the im- plain labels on germ enemies portant facts are settled that the malarial para- class ii site must always come first from an infected human being and that the winged carrier from those which are communicated from the the infected to the healthy must be an sick to the healthy indirectly, that is, by some anopheles. which, however, was the first intermediate carrier of the infection, and not in history to harbor these sickening things by simple proximity. these diseases, there- is like the old question whether the egg fore, are not "contagious," and those sick preceded the hen or the hen preceded the with them can be personally attended without egg. danger. this particular aspect of the question, viz., class iii how our microbic enemies get into us, is practically so all-important that we will add those in which the infection gains entrance another illustration. malta or mediterranean by inoculation, that is, through a wound of fever, as it is called, is a serious infection the skin or mucous membrane, or by some which causes an exhausting fever character- equivalent lesion thereof. these affections ized by numerous relapses. the british likewise are not contagious. government found that in it was re- sponsible for the expensive item of the loss of traveling diseases , days of service by soldiers of the malta garrison, besides those who died from it or now, every infection can be communicated who were invalided home. the government by injection into a vein, and some of the con- requested the royal society to send a com- tagious diseases, like smallpox and scarlet mission to find out what could be done about fever, may be carried by clothes, or even by it, for though the bacterium of this fever letter, from one person to another. but had been identified since , or for eighteen neither of these modes of infection is com- years, yet its origin and mode of propaga- mon, and therefore, practically, need not tion were still unknown. the commission militate against a classification which is in- established the fact that this bacterium first tended for general use. attacked goats and then passed into the i. the term “contagious” need not be ob- milk of these animals. as this article was jected to because, strictly speaking, it defines the only milk used by the soldiers, imported the mode of communication to be by personal cows' milk was substituted, with the result contact. this probably is not the actual that in the epidemic entirely ceased in mode in the majority of cases, but the ex- the garrison. planatory term "proximity” is amply suffi- such illustrations suffice to explain why cient; and, moreover, points out the only physicians chafe so at the fact that while the adequate means of prevention, namely, organisms which cause those most terrible of quarantine. the practical question, then, infections, pneumonia and cerebro-spinal becomes how long the quarantining of the meningitis, are known and can be cultivated sick should be continued, and this can be on suitable media outside of the body, yet settled only according to the particular infec- how they get into the body is not yet settled. tion itself. the chief members of this class are: smallpox, scarlet fever, measles, whoop- a proposed classification ing-cough, diphtheria, influenza, typhus (not typhoid) fever, the bubonic plague, mumps, the term “infectious” should be ap- besides some other minor contagious com- plied to all diseases caused by the entrance plaints. into the body of their specific micro-organ- ii. it is with the mode of propagation of the isms. a brief and easily remembered classi- second class, or those diseases which are com- fication of these diseases might be formulated municated by some intermediary carrier, that as follows: the public needs the most instruction. the class i chief members of this class are typhoid fever, asiatic cholera, and tuberculosis. none of those which are communicated from the them is contagious—the person sick with sick to the healthy directly. that is, simple them may be attended all through the ill- proximity is sufficient to convey the disease. ness by physicians, nurses, or friends, with- to this class only should the term “con- out their contracting the disease. and yet no tagious” be applied. person ever has any one of these affections everybody's magazine without having got it from some one who has grimage in was seriously discussed, it. thus a consumptive lawyer of my ac- and many officials of great experience re- quaintance did not communicate tuberculosis ported that the most complete sanitary ar- to his wife and several children at his own rangements would be powerless to prevent home, but at his down-town office he expector- the spread of cholera if the fair were held. ated freely on the bare floor, with the result that the janitor of the building, with his wife typhoid in city water and daughter, who in turn daily swept his office floor, all contracted tuberculosis. as no “as this prohibition might entail the danger other office in the building was occupied by a of a general insurrection, the british govern- consumptive person, it is fairly certain that ment decided to hand the management over he was the propagator of the malady. to the indian medical staff. the latter, now these diseases, therefore, instead of hang- knowing just how cholera infects, and that, ing around the first scene of their activity, are without being taken in food or drink, it given to travel, sometimes to long distances cannot travel six inches, allowed the fair and by hidden ways, to their next victims. to be held. they promptly removed to ap- modern medicine may well pride itself that its pointed tents every case of the disease in this scientific detectives have at last caught each asiatic crowd as soon as reported. all one of them by finding just what carriers they discharges from the patients were quickly use on their trips. deal understandingly disinfected, with the result that the cholera with those carriers and these miscreants are was stamped out as effectually as a fire can done for. be extinguished if taken just at its begin- a striking illustration of this fact is fur- ning.” nished in the case of asiatic cholera. the w hen cholera visited the port of new york, present generation hardly knows how the being imported from hamburg, which had dread specter of this epidemic once made all suffered from a severe epidemic in the sum- the western nations tremble when the news mer of , the new york academy of came that it had started afresh on its travels medicine appointed a committee, of which from its native india. the british govern- i was chairman, to lay before the senate ment had discovered there that its chief committee on cities at albany the objec- outbursts coincided with the great hindu pil- tions of the academy to the plan devised by grimage, which occurred once in twelve years, tammany hall to buy up a continuous strip to hardwar on the ganges. how cholera of land on each bank of the croton river might abound on such an occasion is well and prevent thereby the contamination of the shown by the description of dr. simpson, the river with cholera germs. we were to show able health officer of calcutta. that this real estate project would not pre- vent the contamination of the croton by a a cholera tank single brook which flows into it, on the harlem railroad, after passing the cabins of "at this pilgrimage, which is also held as a italian laborers. some of these laborers, we fair, from , to , , hindus collect learned, had already landed with suspicious to drink the holy waters of their sacred ganges, bowel complaints from an infected steamer. and to bathe in the great tank constructed as i began, in my remarks, to refer to the at the riverside. from april to april , extensive british experience with the dis- , it presented the spectacle of a seething ease, the chairman of the senate committee mass of humanity in constant motion through roared out: “we do not want anything the pool at the rate of to per minute. english here! god almighty himself con- now, it can easily be imagined that a few taminates the croton when he sends his cases of cholera introduced into such a rain!” as it was plain to our committee multitude would easily induce not only an that we might as well address a bench of outbreak of cholera there and then, but by the mohammedan muftis as this body of senators, returning pilgrims would be carried far and we withdrew. in the next morning's papers, wide. thus a sanitary commissioner says of the academy published to the panic-stricken previous hardwar gatherings that very little city a statement showing what a danger to remains on record, but that little is a record of public health politicians can be in such disease and death. so grave was the outlook emergencies. that the question of prohibiting the pil- we cited, at the time, what i was not al- plain labels on germ enemies lowed to show to our senators, the official like the shade, particularly if damp, and being reports that had been sent to me by the heavier than air, gradually sink downward, hamburg authorities. the latter, when they so that bread crumbs rubbed down the walls found that one side of a street had many of a hospital ward will collect more of them cases of cholera, if it was supplied by water as the floor is approached. from the floor from the elbe, while the opposite side of where consumptives have been expectorating, the same street, which had a different water- millions of them will rise with the first sweep- supply, did not have a case, at once ordered ing, to infect by way of throat and lungs. scientific engineers to construct great sand how many enter also by being swallowed in filters to purify the elbe water. on the com- tuberculous meat and milk has not yet been pletion of these filtering plants, cholera ceased, settled, but enough is already known to but not until ships infected with it had indicate where this destroyer is to be found, already started for new york. the tam- and, therefore, how he is to be fought. all many authorities, alarmed by the newspapers, this knowledge is comparatively recent, asked for another conference with our com- because it was not till that koch mittee, promising to adopt any bill that the demonstrated that tuberculosis is a germ academy would draft. but when the academy disease. but already its victims are yearly proposed that a filtering plant for the croton diminishing in number in every country, in should be constructed by experts chosen proportion to its civilization, and it is not a from the american institute of engineers, fanciful expectation that in another century instead of by the city board of public works, consumption may become as uncommon as the city officials were much incensed. as leprosy is now. the cholera scare meantime had died out, new york city to this day continues to infection by inoculation drink unfiltered croton water, with the re- sult that thousands die here from typhoid iii. not since history began has medical fever, which, like cholera, is a water-borne science bestowed such a boon upon mankind disease and which every year becomes more as that which our own generation has wit- rife as the croton runs low. philadelphia nessed, in the discoveries of the nature and also has its yearly epidemics of typhoid, prevention of those diseases which infect by which the medical profession there has pro- inoculation, and which constitute our third tested might be obviated by filtering the class. schuylkill waters. so it might, but for the to impress upon his youthful mind the im- politicians making a job of the construction portance of guarding against this third class of of the filter works, so that they get the money infections, the medical student at the laboratory out of it but leave the typhoid germs in. the is given this object-lesson: two test-tubes, drainage of connecticut towns also infects nearly filled with a clear meat broth and then the oyster beds of long island sound, and i closed at the top with a cotton plug, are given have been called in consultation to patients to him, with directions to wash his hands at our most fashionable hotels, ill with ty- with soap and water and clean his nails with a phoid from their habit of eating raw oysters brush as thoroughly as he can for some ten for their first course at dinner. minutes. after he thinks that his hands have become altogether clean, he removes the plug consumption losing power from one of the test-tubes and barely touches with a finger-tip its contained broth, after there remains the so-called great white which he restores the cotton plug and puts plague, which might as well be called the both tubes away on a shelf for twenty-four yellow or the black plague, for it is the most hours. what he will see then is that the fatal of diseases in japan, and negroes are broth in the test-tube which received his sup- particularly susceptible to it. it is doubtless posedly pure touch is turbid from the presence the greatest single cause of death in the of millions of microbes, while the other tube world. the bacteria of tuberculosis choose to remains perfectly clear. ride about on the motes in the air, which can some years ago dr. hermann knapp, the be seen in a ray of sunshine coming through a distinguished oculist of new york, in order to window. but we now know that sunshine remove the incredulity of some medical men kills them in seven minutes; likewise fresh on this subject, presented at the academy of air, that is, oxygen, disagrees with them. they medicine six rabbits on which he had per- everybody's magazine formed the operation of extracting the lens of undertaken at bellevue. the reason given the eye, as is done for patients with cataract. was that he and others of his colleagues lost at three of the rabbits had their lenses removed bellevue all their cases of amputation, while by instruments taken bright and clean from at the newly constructed new york and his operating-case; the other three had their roosevelt hospitals the same surgeons were lenses dug out with an ordinary carpet tack. uniformly successful. the supposition, there- the result was that the three rabbits that fore, was that the plastering and floors of old were operated on with his usual instruments hospital buildings had somehow become in- for the purpose had lost their eyes by purulent fected with so much going on in them, but ulceration, while the eyes of the three on just how no one could guess. this resolution which the carpet tack was used had healed seemed like going back to the wisdom of the perfectly. the explanation was that the ancients, as reflected in a passage in leviticus, carpet tack was first sterilized by passing it which directs that the plaster of the house of a through the flame of an alcohol lamp, while leper be taken down and burned because the the instruments were used directly from their plaster itself had leprosy, a fact which modern velvet-lined case. science proves to be literally true. the same thing is true also of that first cousin of leprosy, danger in hospital plaster the bacillus of tuberculosis, which is quite fond of abiding on a shaded plaster wall. but these micro-organisms, therefore, which at present the most serious surgical operations always must be watched against, cover us in are performed at bellevue with as good a layers from head to foot, besides settling record of success as in any other hospital, upon everything about us, and in such num- simply because the days of antiseptic surgery bers that surgeon-general sternberg, in his have come. book on bacteriology, estimates that one kind, what antiseptic surgery means is this: especially dreaded whenever the skin is to each of us has a great defensive barrier, be cut-the staphylococcus pyogenes aureus, called by anatomists the basement membrane, can hold a mass-meeting of eight billions of which is continuous, both outside and inside them on the end of a lancet. if it be asked of us. on it grow layers of cells arranged how this enumeration can be made, the in- thickly on the skin, much like shingles, while quirer is referred to the device used by they rather resemble a pavement on that in- microscopists called the cytometer, which ternal skin called the mucous membrane, consists of a plate of glass on which micro- which lines all our tubes and the cavities scopic squares have been scratched by a which are enlargements of those tubes. now mathematically working machine. a drop of not until our innumerable germ enemies the culture containing the microbes is poured break through this barrier can they set fire upon this plate, and the average number to us with inflammation and abscesses or found in a square is counted. multiplying poison us outright to death. and antiseptic this average by the whole number of squares surgery represents the methods by which this on the plate will give a more accurate return membrane is protected. than most census-takers make of the popula- tion of new york. in the temple of modern surgery until these our enemies were revealed by that marvelous human invention and bene- the scene at an operating-table in one of factor, the modern microscope, surgeons were our hospitals now would make one of the old in a pathetic state of perplexity how to ac- masters of surgery stare. the operator him- count for a number of puzzles; among them, self and all his staff are dressed like the old the existence of what was then called hos- holy priests of solomon's temple, wearing pitalism. by this was meant that there white caps and gowns, with the nurses stand- was something about old hospital buildings ing around like priestesses all in spotless which made it dangerous to perform amputa- white, while every one about the table has tions or other serious operations within their gone through as many ablutions as befits walls. at my first sitting as a member of the the occasion of a bloody sacrifice under bellevue hospital medical board, the late the auspices of the immaculate goddess of dr. h. b. sands introduced a resolution, cleanliness. a minute and elaborate ritual which was unanimously passed, that there has been observed of sterilizing everything- after no major surgical operation should be towels, threads, needles, forceps, instruments, pla plain labels on germ enemies and what not, while the floor itself is made of has now to be a diligent student of bacteri- glass or glazed tiles, rather than of wood. ology. the surgeon himself does not venture to cut but the record instance, so to speak, of the victim till he has put on his sterilized life-saving still remains to be mentioned. gloves, because he cannot possibly clean his when i came to new york, a great discussion own fingers enough. should any onlooker was going on at the academy of medicine, take his hand out of his pocket to reach for the which lasted for four sittings and was par- gaping wound, he would be ejected instanter ticipated in not only by the most eminent for spoiling the whole performance with his new york men in the department involved, defiling touch. but by distinguished men invited from other the results of this vigilant war against cities. the subject was the nature and treat- microbes are simply marvelous, and can be ment of puerperal peritonitis, or child-bed fully appreciated only by those who, like fever, in which the mortality was then simply myself, can remember the surgery of former awful. those published debates are now days in hospital wards and on the battle-field. curious reading, for they show that not a man present knew what he was talking about. life-saving by disinfection suffice it to say that, in that same year, the mortality from puerperal fever in the vienna when i came to new york, no surgeon hospital, the largest maternity hospital in the dared to operate for appendicitis, because to world, was fifty-seven per cent. of the mothers open the abdomen then meant almost certain attacked and twenty-eight per cent. of all death, and as for opening the skull to extract a deaths there, while last year in the same insti- brain tumor, none but a lunatic would have tution it had fallen to one-quarter of one per thought of such a thing! appendicitis oc- cent.! the record of the maternity wards in curred in those days as often as now, but the bellevue that year was even worse. at patients were left to die with what was then present we can say that this disease is wholly called peritonitis, for which only opium in extinct in the institutions of new york. heroic doses was given. at present, whenever the fearful tetanus, or lockjaw, was as- the symptoms of peritonitis develop, some- cribed in all the books when i was a student thing in the nature of a surgical accident to puncture or irritation of a nerve, and both within the abdominal cavity is suspected. if hands and feet were sometimes cut off to stop nothing else will explain the matter, an ex- the irritation going up the nerve to the spine. ploratory operation opening this once sacred now we know that it is due to a fatal poison cavity is gone through with, quite unconcern- in the blood, which acts like strychnia, though edly, because if need be the surgeon is ready more painfully, and which is produced by a then to sew up a hole in the stomach caused bacillus lodged in a punctured wound made by an ulcer, or to resect a yard of the in- by some stick, nail, or pistol wad on which this testine. as to that big bag, the peritoneum evil bacillus happened to be. it is a soil —which, if its folds were all opened out, bacillus and swarms in rich garden earth, would be four times the extent of the skin, particularly where guano or fish manure is if he finds that pus-making microbes have got used. all wounds, therefore, into which into its cavity, he will then flood it with earth has entered should be promptly cau- gallons of water, sterilized by being well terized. boiled. though the reader can now imagine what hydrophobia preventable unnumbered lives have been saved by this vigilance against infection by inoculation, the hydrophobia also presents another illustra- triumphs by the same means of what is called tion of what modern science can do. a conservative surgery are no less complete. recent remarkable discovery by dr. ira van limbs or other parts terribly injured in rail- giesen, of the laboratory of the new york road accidents, or in machine shops, or in war, board of health, makes it possible now to which formerly would have been dealt with determine in a few minutes what used to take by immediate amputation, are now preserved weeks to decide. as dogs are so generally to their owners almost as a matter of course. shot if they bite people in the streets, it then and all on principles of disinfection of such becomes an anxious question whether the dog wide application that every specialist in was mad or not. formerly, to settle this affections of the eye, ear, nose, throat, etc., question, rabbits were inoculated with the everybody's magazine saliva or blood of the suspected dog, to see if it gave them the disease. but it might be necessary to wait a month to be sure on this point. but dr. van giesen has discovered that a slice of a mad dog's brain shows an ap- pearance in the brain-cells never found except in rabies. if this is found, the serum treat- ment initiated by the illustrious pasteur should be commenced at once, because it very rarely fails to prevent the development of this dreadful malady if begun in time. martyrs of science and breeds in household water receptacles, such as tubs, or even tin cans. the city of havana for several centuries has been the yellow-fever pest-hole for infecting north america; and every summer our southern cities have been in fear of this undesirable cuban importation. as soon as the spaniards were put out by our army, havana was cleansed of its dirt and became a healthy city, except that it still produced yellow fever. in , the united states army commission, of which the lamented dr. la- zear was one, by a series of ingenious inves- tigations proved that stegomia was the cul- prit. straightway surgeon colonel w. c. gorgas, the sanitary superintendent of havana, suffocated all the mosquitoes with smudge in the houses, and dosed their larvæ with petroleum in , domestic water receptacles which his inspectors discovered, with the result that on september , , the last case of yellow fever in havana was re- ported, and for two years not a single new case occurred in that city. colonel gorgas has remarked in a recent address that medical science will yet make tropical countries the most desirable places in the world to live in. last, but by no means least, is yellow fever. when i was physician of the new york quarantine hospital, we all were possessed with imaginary fears that this deadly agent was a something which clung to clothes and such things, and we were afraid even of the silk ribbons tied around bunches of havana cigars. all articles too valuable to burn were wheeled into cast-iron ovens to be superheated, while a big iron scow was laden with the cheaper goods from the in- fected ships and towed down the lower bay to make a blaze of them at night. and all the while, yellow fever cometh only through the proboscis of a mosquito! all our fuss was needless, and we might have accepted presents of cigars from ships' captains without a tremor. but never should it be forgotten that the knowledge that has abated this fearful scourge—in the epidemic of , one-tenth of the inhabitants of philadelphia died from it—was bought at the expense of heroic lives in scientific searching for its real cause. as dr. osler says, the deaths of dr. lazear of the american com- mission of , and of dr. myers of the liverpool commission, from this disease, add two more names to the already long roll of the martyrs of science. this yellow-fever mosquito is not our above- mentioned acquaintance anopheles claviger, who gives us chills and fever, but is dubbed culex stegomia, and is remarkable for its domestic habits, because it stays in houses medicine and real estate but how does the world reward such great and brave life-savers ? new york spent three days celebrating the advent of admiral dewey, because he had destroyed whole ships' crews of spaniards without himself losing a man. in contrast, all that medical science can say to her votaries is: do not expect to have people thank you for the dis- eases they do not have, though but for you they would have them badly. but you may receive some consideration if you show that vast tracts of now worthless real estate may become marketable, if only your profession be allowed to make them healthy at the cost of one-hundredth of the sums now spent by civilized men in finding the best means to shoot or to drown their fellows! little stories of @real alla® life no merry-go-roundin' “ma!” called the deep voice of bill from the stairway. by bessie r. hoover “hey?" answered ma absently, deeply considering whether she ought to cut the n labor day morning, in the dingy yel lemon pies now or wait till dinner-time. “if low tenement that the flickingers called they're cut now they'll drip," she said, think- home, the wildest chaos reigned, with the ing aloud. “but if i don't cut 'em-and storm-center in the pantry where ma was there never is no knife at a picnic—then the packing the picnic dinner. boys'll claw 'em to pieces." . for pa flickinger, partly out of politeness “my jack-knife ain't been out'n my pocket to his employer, who was giving a picnic to for ten year—that cuts summat,” suggested the men in his factory, but mostly because he pa; then he asked: “could them socks be in himself wanted to go, was preparing to take the clothes-basket?” the whole family for a day's outing at st. “that's jest where they be; git 'em on to joe, a summer resort just across the river on yourself; and then hunt up a collar- you lake michigan. make me nervous! let me see, what was i pa and his two sons, bill, the autocrat of worryin' about? oh, yes, a knife " the family, and jed, who founded himself on “my jack-knife ain't been out'n—" began bill, and the boys' ten-year-old sister, opal, pa, returning with so radiant a face that ma came and went in all stages of apparel; knew he had found his clean socks. jerked open reluctant bureau drawers, pawed “ma! can't you hear nothin'?” yelled bill the contents wildly over without seeing the in stentorian tones. he was the eldest son, things that lay uppermost, and hunted ex- and his pampered spirit could not easily citedly for their best clothes. brook delay. “it does seem as if all the duds we've got “yes, billy, in a minute." is lost," cried ma. “git out of them bureau “come now," shouted bill; “i want to ast drawers, jed; a fool'd know his shoes wasn't you somethin'." there." "i'm busy; spit it out.” pa's clean socks were also missing. “you “anybody down there?” questioned her come in here," declared ma, mashing butter six-foot son cautiously, having a request to into a cup, “as if the pantry was your regular make that could not be aired before the whole dressing-room;" for pa was standing meekly family. by with his best shoes in his hand. “nobody here but me and your pa and “take your time, old woman, take your jed and opal; no, there's nobody here." time-no hurry.” pa spoke placidly enough, “come to the stairway a minute. hustle but it could be seen at a glance that his very up!” ordered bill. worn out by his impor- soul was anxious about socks. tunity, ma went, to get rid of him. everybody's magazine bill stood half-way down the narrow stairs, “well, i guess not; your brother ain't no holding at arm's length a fire-red necktie, bootblack; git out!” he could be very gra- and a green one sprinkled with purple stars. cious to grown people or to company, but “which?” he inquired mysteriously. even civility to jed and opal was seldom “which what?” snapped ma; “we won't compatible with his lordliness. git to st. joe till doomsday if we fool “lemme in!” shouted a small boy, pulling around so." frantically at the screen door. “which tie shall i wear? sophie sorter opal hastily admitted butch, her little likes the red one; but she's never saw the nephew, who lived in the next house. once green-it's a beaut!” inside he began to wail with noisy and pre- “put 't on-you look like a speckled pig— conceived earnestness. take 't off. wear the red one, billy; that's “what ails you, butch?” inquired pa. jest enough color to set you off.” butch blubberingly replied that company ma went back, smiling to think that bill had just come from indiana on an excursion, cared for her advice on so delicate a matter so none of his folks could go to the picnic. as pleasing his girl. for sophie budzban- “ain't that provokin'!” exclaimed ma. owsky had been invited to eat dinner with "elvie can't go neither on account of beu- the family that day, and although she and lah's bein' exposed to the measles; and now bill had been "going together” for some mandy's folks is kept to home. we might time, they had never seen her. take butch- what say, pa?” “who's got the shoe-blackin'?” yelled “couldn't keep butch out'n lake michi- bill, still on the stairs. gan; he's the worst there is,” declared pa. “jed—and he won't let me black my whereupon butch became inconsolable. shoes," returned opal. “i found it first.” “i wanter see bill's budzbanowsky," “shut up,” snarled jed, who treated his sniffed butch. this was his way of refer- little sister in the same manly fashion that ring to bill's girl. bill treated him. "shut that up, kid,” commanded bill, “shut up yourself,” roared pa; “no cater- secretly pleased. “of course you can go. waulin' or neither of you don't go to st. your uncle bill'll see that you don't fall into joe.” the drink. i'll look after butch, ma." “you kids hand that blackin' over to me butch ran home to get ready, recognizing or git cuffed,” threatened bill. in bill a royal patron whose word was law in “take billy the shoe-blackin', opal," the family. supplemented ma, fearing a scene with her by slow degrees the flickingers donned high-handed son. their best clothes, and at nine o'clock crowded “bill gits ornerier every day," grumbled into the front room to wait for ma, who was pa. laboriously jerking on her black alpaca. just then milo, the husband of an older jule had come over, resplendent in a new daughter, jule, who lived in another row of striped green lawn, feeling that for once she tenements on the same street, tapped on the was correctly dressed; milo was with her, screen door with a modest knuckle and said: peacefully chewing a grass stem and minding “she wants the shoe-blackin' if youse got the twins, janice and jasper. butch was any." also there, uncomfortably packed in a tight, " jest a minute, milo,” called bill genially stuffy little suit, with his heart dancing for from the parlor, where he was polishing his joy under his padded vest. shoes with one great foot on the organ stool. “i've got a word to say before we start," “i ain't blacked yet," growled jed. announced pa, raising his voice formally to “me neither," echoed opal. address the assembled family. “we're poor “it's only my shoes, anyhow," apologized folks and can't spend no fortune on this pic- jule's husband with his habitual mildness; nic. the boss of the factory, he pays the “let 'em go.” car fare, and your ma, she supplies the din- “why, no,” cried bill cordially; “don't be ner. so far-good. but now i'm comin' to a slouch jest because you're married. come them attractions at the resort that ain't so in, and i'll shine 'em up for you.” good for us—leastways for our pocketbooks. “black me, bill," petitioned jed when “i've got a little spare change,” went on milo was gone. pa,“and i suppose you boys have-so if any- “me, too,” demanded opal. thing should happen—. but we ain't goin' "i didn't know this family could turn out such a stylish outfit!" to spend it on nonsense. everybody hear that? no merry-go-roundin', no tintypin', no paddlin' in the lake and drowndin' in a holeno foolishness whatever. all mind your ma; look sharp for pickpockets; keep your hats on your heads, and remember you've got on your best clothes. and we'll all keep together, avoidin' merry-go-rounds and things afore-mentioned, and i guess we'll come home right side up. “but”-here pa smiled and gave a sigh of relief to think that his lecture, in which ma had privately instructed him, was over— “well all take a ride on that there baby rail- road—that ain't more'n half as big as a real one; and that's about as much dissipation as we can stand in a day—that and the dinner.” all listened respectfully to pa's ultimatum, except bill, who grinned and said: “sorry, pa, but i couldn't keep to your little old program for five minutes—it wouldn't do.” “well, billy, i dunno as 'twould,” gave in pa good-naturedly, "seein' you've got sixty- five cents to burn; besides, you've got to treat your girl like a gent ought; but the rest of us, we've got our work cut out.” “i declare i didn't know this family could turn out such a stylish outfit!” cried ma, as they started down the street toward the car line. “fares,” said the conductor, as soon as they were safely seated in the street-car. “fares!” echoed pa with a stare; "the boss he pays for this ride.” “this ain't the picnic car-git off or pay.” “we git off,” returned pa. b utch thought that was all there was go- ing to be of the ride. “can't we go, aunt jule?” he asked, as they were climbing off the car. “it don't look like it," snapped jule. “i go right on," sang out bill, and paid his fare and sailed away. “that's a nice way for bill to take care of butch," grumbled ma. “when did bill ever do what he said he would?” inquired jule tartly. “i dunno but we're on a fool chase,” wor- ried ma. “i always was afraid of lake michigan–i don't feel jest right about tak- in' butch over there. i'd go back home for a penny, what say, pa?" “i say wait a bit," advised pa; "there'll be another car along." “but how'll we know it's ourn?” asked ma. “probably it'll have a banner on it sayin' “picnic car,'” suggested milo. “probably it won't,” contradicted jule crossly. “i don't suppose we'll git to go-i never do go nowhere." but the very next car bore the welcome tidings that it was reserved for the factory crowd. milo hailed with a relaxed palm, pa hailed with a lusty arm, and jule hailed with janice as a signal. and butch's face, which had been puckered into a dismal scowl during the enforced wait, gradually unpuckered itself after they were aboard the car, while he held on to his hat with both hands and breathed in long deep breaths of pure joy as the bell everybody's magazine tinkled alluringly and the bobbing houses in three minutes they were seated in the shunted by small compartments behind the little engine the loaded car fairly flew across the that dragged its heavy load of picnickers marshes between the two towns, rumbled up around a none too steady track, which made the long viaduct over the puffing steam an uneven circle in the sand. engines, and when butch thought they were butch was so delighted that he scarcely yet miles away, stopped at the park in st. joe. touched the seat, but vibrated on the edge like the family had been sitting on a park seat a mechanical toy with a wabbly spring. but a few minutes when bill and sophie opal leaned back in placid enjoyment-for budzbanowsky came up. bill led the girl once there was no baby for her to tend. and straight to ma and said: “mis' flickinger, jed tried to look as if he were not intensely miss budzbanowsky," and felt that he had enjoying himself. done the correct thing. suddenly, in the midst of this general con- sophie budzbanowsky was a neatly tentment, the engine coughed, made several dressed, good-looking polish girl of eighteen, uncertain lunges, and then came to a stand- with dark-brown hair and a fair complexion. still. and no amount of coaxing on the part of she worked in the knitting factory that the engineer affected the balking steam horse. crouched like a huge black monster on the “i know summat about machinery," ven- sands below the park; and so far she consid- tured pa modestly, climbing over the side of ered bill perfection. the car to investigate; “let me take a squint.” “i hope we don't set here on a bench all with his family looking proudly on, pa day,” remarked ma. found what caused the trouble, corrected it, “no law ag'in movin' on," grinned pa. and the engine was soon puffing reluctantly “you sure must see silver beach," said around the track again. sophie. “what'd you do?” inquired ma. "we can't take it in if we set here,” de “nothin' much; jest tinkered.” pa spoke clared bill, and rose and conducted them to easily, but his assumed humility was the very the lake. acme of pride. butch, being in a foreign country, clung “you and your folks git extra rides for closely to opal's helpin' me out,'' hand, as they made called the engineer, their way down the and they rode on and bluff and through the on; while pa, having deep white sand to earned additional where a huge pavilion rides in so neat a spread its wing-like manner, began to roofs beside the criticize the road and waves, while tobog- tell milo how it might gan slides, a minia- be improved. ture railroad, a noisy when at last they merry-go-round, and willingly left the baby kindred attractions railroad, it seemed as allured the public. if they had been rid- beyond silver beach, ing for hours. but which was already they were caught by thronged with peo- another lure farther ple, lay lake michi- down the board walk. gan, a rippling semi- it was the merry-go- circle of sparkling round, and its jangl- blue. “mis' flickinger, miss budzbanowsky." ing music ground out bill soon trailed off a catchy tune as the with sophie, remarking that they would be family neared it, while the gay animals flew back by dinner-time. by at giddy speed. "the first thing—and the last thing, re for some time they stood in a little member-on our program to-day,” announced group, mutely admiring this prohibited pa, “is a ride on the baby railroad. all attraction; then the twins, janice and jas- hands pike that way.” per, stretched out fat arms, asking in inar- little stories of real life ke "i ain't drowned!" ticulate but unmistakable baby talk for a after dinner they started out again to see ride. the sights, and tintype galleries fairly yawned pa flickinger silently withdrew from the with hungry jaws as they went down the family, motioning for milo to follow. board walk. “them kids of yourn is crazy for a turn “oh, how i'd like a picture of the babies!” on that merry-go-round,” said remarked sophie, who was walk- pa. ing between pa and bill. “they sure is stuck on the this touched pa. “i'd like a thing,” replied milo, his own eyes picter of the little rats, too,” he helplessly glued on the revolving responded. hobby-horses. “let's have 'em took,” sug- the miniature railroad had gested bill, wishing to play the been as a sip of inspiriting liquor generous lover. “i'll pay.” to pa, creating a desire for more "if we ever did anything like and swifter locomotion. “as a other folks, we'd have ourselves rule i'm dead ag'in merry-go- all took in a group," observed roundin' in any form,” he af- jule, after the babies' picture was firmed; “but if i've got the finished. change, i'll take us all.” then pa, who until that time jule, who had edged near, had steadfastly kept up the fic- nudged her husband, saying, tion that he was protecting his “pay your share, milo.” family from too much merry-go- so in a happy dream the eager rounding and from all tintyping, children and babies were bundled with their came out in his true colors, counted his loose elders on the gaudy animals for a number of change, conferred a moment with ma, and dizzying revolutions. boldly proclaimed that he would pay for pic- the dinner, which was eaten on the beach tures for the whole gang. in the shade of the pavilion, was the crown the photographer worked quickly, hud- ing success of the day; for besides the good dling the family into a ragged group that things to eat, there were sophie budzban- overflowed at the edges; but every one was owsky and bill, adding to the prosaic life of taken entire except jed, who was represented the family the glamour of their budding only by a portion of an empty-looking sleeve. romance. the flickingers were by this time demor- “gimme your jack-knife," demanded ma, alized into a regular picnic crowd out for a when it was time to cut the lemon pies. good time, trailing happily along, joking and “my knife" pa felt in his pocket- laughing. instinctively they made toward felt in all his pockets, then turned very the merry-go-round, and again pa disengaged red. himself from his folks and crooked a sug- “spit it out,” snapped ma; “where's your gestive finger at milo. knife?" “mebbe the children'd like another ride," “home-in my old clothes,” admitted pa, hinted pa, “and it'd be nice to have miss crestfallen. budzbudz — budz — bill's girl, to go with “there never is no knife at a picnic," ob- us.” served ma with settled pessimism. milo cheerfully counted his change and sophie budzbanowsky silently slipped handed it all over to pa with an appreciative something into pa's hand. grin. pa added his money to milo's and clearing his voice he proudly exclaimed, said that there was just enough to give them “i've found my knife!” all one ride. a sigh of relief, audible above the gentle “i dunno,” hesitated pa, “but what it murmur of lake michigan, went up from looks foolish to spend our last cent. we've the waiting family. rid on the thing onct to-day.” pa held up the penknife that sophie had “the boss he pays our fare home,” en- lent him. couraged milo. “if it only could do,” said sophie anx- "if summat should happen,” argued pa iously. weakly, “a little money wouldn't be a bad “of course it'll do.” cried ma, delighted, thing." and began snipping at the pie. "nothin' can't happen if you ain't got no on pies. everybody's magazine change,” interrupted jule, who had been on the spur of the moment listening. “here goes, then!” shouted pa recklessly; by fred r. bechdolt “all hands come on!” they went gaily; jule and ma making a tommy scott was a burglar. men joke about riding on their last cent. of his craft spoke of him as “fly," “i thought we'd ought to do the fair thing which means that he was skilled and bold- by butch, seein' we brought him along,” skilled to the point of uncanny caution; bold explained pa flickinger to ma. “he don't to the point of fierce recklessness. he had get to go nowheres so often.” been a burglar since he was a little boy. a as they dismounted from the last round, policeman had caught him in a candy store dazed and unsteady, they saw a crowd col- one sunday and the judge had sent him to the lecting a short distance away at the water's reform school. there he learned the princi- edge, and started down to see what had hap- ples of the business thoroughly. subsequently pened. he kept adding to his knowledge. his entire "a little boy's fell into the lake about the after-life was a sort of postgraduate course. size of butchie,” said pa, catching sight of a in prison-he served three or four terms small limp form. before he died-he spent his spare time read- “where is butch?” shrieked ma; “who ing books from the library. among these had him on the merry-go-round?”. were encyclopedias, biographies, historical the family stared blankly at one another; works, and treatises on engineering science. nobody had had butch. thus he became a crook of wide education, “it's butch that's drowned,” said bill with and doubly dangerous from a policeman's solemn bluntness. point of view. he was really a wonderful “break away there," he growled to the man. crowd; “let his folks through.” in all his career, which embraced at the “i might 'a' knowed better,” moaned ma time of my story two continents and thirty wildly; “i always said that some of our years, he had never trusted man nor woman. family would get drowned in lake michi. he was slight and short of stature, with quick. gan.” cold, blue-gray eyes. he was active as a cat, “i ain't drowned, gra’ma,” sniffed butch, and his ears were strangely acute. the law suddenly sitting up at the sound of her voice. he knew well so far as it applied to crimi- he had only dropped into a few inches of nals. its officers and administrators he looked water from the railing of the pavilion, and upon as enemies, to be eluded when possible; had been pulled out so quickly that he was otherwise to be overcome. twice he had re- scarcely wet; but seeing the strange faces sorted to this last extremity-and the result about him, he had been too frightened at first had each time brought him newspaper head- to speak or move. lines. “you ought to be cuffed,” cried ma angrily, to him burglary was not merely a craft; it wiping her eyes. “what'd you go an’ fall was an art. in this day of electric alarms, into the water for? and what'd you run special bank watchmen, and extensively cir- away from us for, anyway? bill, you prom culated bertillon measurements, such men as ised to look after butch.” tommy scott are growing scarce. however, “i had my eye on him-off and on--all there are still a few. day," answered bill soberly. times come to the best of us when things “particularly off! i'd ruther have a go slowly. such a time had come to tommy n'elephant tend the twins than bill,” scolded scott. not that inspiration was lacking; but jule. circumstances made the artist idle. his deeds “and a n'elephant'd ruther do it," re- in the outside world had driven him back to torted her offended brother. the city, where, in spite of being well known, “it's been a day without a blot,” moralized he could better hide. he was occupying a pa, as they started home a little later, room in a quiet house in the residential dis- “barrin' butchie's mishap. we didn't ex- trict. nightly he passed among busy crowds, actly carry out the program that was laid skilfully avoiding those officers, plain-clothed down,” he admitted, "about merry-go- and uniformed, who knew him. hewas doing roundin' an' such, but you know, ma, cir- nothing. and he chafed. cumstances alter folks-summat.” his fingers itched to grasp certain tools. little stories of real life his ears tingled when he heard the chink of the thrill of eluding men of alert brains and money, counted by cigar-stand proprietors sharp eyes—these things had set him afire. about to close their places. passing down. he could not withstand the call of his art. town fur stores, he looked at open transoms for though he loved the loot, it was the ac- and fell to watching the patrolman of the quirement that brought him joy, and tempted block; then fumed because he must see op- him at times when he should have remained portunity go by. and when he walked on idle. he left the district early. by midnight the hills among the homes of the rich, he was he was on his hands and knees in a third-floor tormented by glimpses of families at dinner- bedroom. tables, glimpses caught through french win- the house stood back from a street lined dows, where well-shaded porch pillars showed on either side with depressingly substantial safe and easy access to upper chambers and mansions. he had studied it casually from their jewel boxes. the outside many times. he had picked its such things as these made him angry, and points of vantage—the proper place for a his anger naturally turned against his enemies "get-away"; the situation of the bedchambers; —the law-abiding half of the world and its the quarters of the servants; the sort of protectors. thing that men of ordinary discernment must on the particular evening of which i am have crossed the grill-barred threshold many about to tell, anger and restlessness had times to learn. he had seen a vulnerable win- driven him into a section of the city that was dow, unprotected because it was small and especially dangerous for him and his kind. high. this night the window had beckoned. this is a district where lights burn bright a bit of planking from beside a sewer ex- until dawn's coming dims them, where music cavation in the street served as his ladder. from basement halls alive with men and as he drew himself into the window he women, and from upper chambers heavy kicked this to the ground, where it lay un- with silken hangings, comes to the street in noticed when the patrolman passed. his bursts through open doors. here men stand shoes, removed before entrance, he wore pen- in long lines before polished bars of mahog- dent from their strings about his neck. he any; and though these men may come and go, glided like a little bent shadow to the rear the lines are always there. the sidewalks are door and unlatched it; then went swiftly up crowded as long as darkness lasts, and closed the stairs—two heavily carpeted flights. carriages with drawn curtains constantly h is goal—the bedchamber of the mistress whirl mysteriously about corners. in this of the house-was near the front. he lis- district a man like tommy scott may always tened at the door; then entered on hands and find companionship. and knowing this, soft- knees. his ears did double duty, serving as footed, well-groomed detectives from the cen- eyes in the half-light. tral office lurk in the doorways or swagger they caught a faint stirring, the sound of a slowly through the barrooms. their eyes are hand moving against cloth. he dropped and ever open. they wait for the lure of the lay prone, face down, on the floor. the sound place to bring those in hiding from their lairs. stopped. but the breathing that followed tommy scott had spent the evening here. was quick and uneven. then came the slight to tell how he passed the men from the central noise of some one swallowing hard. no one office, unknown and unnoticed, would take ever makes this sound, asleep. too long, though it would, i doubt not, be in the flash of an eye tommy scott realized interesting. it would also take too long to that he must make developments, not wait tell how he helped two "peter players” to for them. he rose to his feet, his revolver in remove a chloral-steeped victim from fisky his hand. harriett's cellar beer-hall to the back door of “keep quiet and don't move, or i'll shoot," charley jones's place and there deposit him, he said, and pulled up over his nose the hand- limp, with pockets turned inside out. tommy kerchief that he wore loose on his throat. scott owed this and much more to fisky the woman swallowed hard again. but harriett, who was a power in the ward; as she did not even plead. he watched her as charley jones was not. he rified the jewel box on the dresser, and then all this was too much for the burglar. bade her lie silent as he slunk from the room. the slang of the “peter players”; the thieves' he was out of the rear door before her hand gossip that he had got from fisky harriett could reach the electric button beside her bed. in the latter's close-curtained private office; he walked many blocks to the sand lots and everybody's magazine buried his plunder. he hurried back almost smooth-cropped scalp. he felt the warmth of to the harbor front; then went straight up the blood on his hand, but the man eluded his steep hill toward his room. half-way there he grasp. caught an owl car and thus avoided the trio of “it's all right,” he called loudly as he patrolmen who walked that street. heard footsteps. “stand by in front o' the the house in which he roomed was one of house. i'll get him.” a number exactly alike in appearance. be the thief leaped from the open window tween each and its neighbor was a scant ten as he calted, and tommy scott followed, mad feet of bare ground. there were no fences. with the fight that was in him and the wave as he entered his front door, tommy scott of hatred that had swept over him. noticed that the side window on the ground the people in the house had been too slow floor of the next house was open. this win- or too frightened to gain the front door. he dow was directly opposite that of his bed- cursed them as he ran. the bent form of his chamber. he remembered-for details never quarry was just ahead, speeding down the escaped him—that this window had never sidewalk. from behind came the beat of been open before. and the night was cool heavy footsteps. tommy scott heard, and with a good breeze stirring. recognized the patrolman on the block. he began to undress. he placed his re- “come on, you," he called; "he's just volver beneath his bed, just where his hand ahead.” could drop easily to the floor. he had never the quarry dashed round a corner at the carried the weapon home before. but the call. tommy scott and the patrolman fol- penalty for robbery by violence goes as high lowed. in this order the three of them ran as life imprisonment. and he had just com- down two blocks, through an alley, across a mitted that crime. vacant lot, and on into the next street. the as he sat on his bed to unlace his shoes, he patrolman began to lose distance. thought over the affair. he was sorry he “shoot him," he called. tommy scott had done it-for it was injudicious. he was dropped to his knee and leveled his weapon. wanted badly enough already. yet, think he swore as the smoke cleared and he saw ing over the details, he felt satisfaction at the the other still running swiftly. he sprang to , manner in which he had carried out the rob- his feet and renewed the chase. the patrol- bery. man had gained his side now. “an’ she never opened her mout',” thought the run was beginning to tell on tommy tommy scott. the woman, he knew, was scott, even though his lungs were accustomed gray-haired and feeble. but that did not to such severe tests. his breath came short count in his business. his blue-gray eyes and pains racked his chest. his limbs grew gleamed coldly as he thought how well he heavy. he set his teeth stubbornly and had handled her. doubled his fists—the right one tightly over a long shrill scream made him leap from the handle of his revolver. he thought of the bedside—the scream of a woman in mortal the scream he had heard-shrill and carrying terror. proof of awful terror. he seized his revolver, as his landlady “you dirty thief,” he gasped, as though the rushed to his door. “it's in the next house, man whose footfalls sounded far ahead could she cried. “it's burglars." hear him; and then—"the -- prowler!” by this time tommy scott had run from in fresh wrath, he leaped ahead, for the the front door, revolver in hand. as he ran moment forgetting his aching limbs. for he thought of the open window opposite his the moment, too, his muscles limbered and own. the weight lifted. abreast of him the heavy- “his get-away,” he muttered; "the — coated patrolman panted distressingly. his prowler." feet fell heavily, and he labored hard. tom- he climbed nimbly into the window. as my scott began to outdistance him again. he gained his feet in the dark house he saw, far ahead glinted dully the light of red coming toward him, a dimly outlined shape, lanterns in the roadway. trained to grasp de- and an uplifted arm, menacing. he stepped tails in a hurry, tommy scott realized on the to one side and bent his head as the revolver instant what they meant. he pointed to butt descended. then, like a flash, he the lights and shouted to the patrolman; but straightened and beat downward with his own the words fell behind on the empty air. weapon. the pistol barrel glanced along a the fleeing thief was running close to the the balance inner edge of the sidewalk. tommy scott smoke enwrapped him. he sprang forward smiled to himself at the man's shrewdness. and found the hand that grasped the revolver. strangely enough, no fellow feeling came to they fought over and over one another in him as he remembered that this was the the slime of the trench. and finally, after a proper thing to do. he was mad with the few seconds that seemed a long time, tommy lust of hunting another man, a strange over- scott felt the burglar lying beneath him, powering passion, born of savage human in- stunned and limp. he dragged the man to- stinct. ward the end of the trench and called for on the edge of a patch of blue-white light help. for his feet were slipping many ways from a corner arc-lamp, the burglar, bent at once, and it seemed to him as though all low, raced diagonally across the street. he the blood in his body had run into his legs, reached the cluster of red lanterns, and there weighting them down. his head rang with vanished, silently, as a black silhouette dis- lightness. appears from the canvas. tommy scott "ye done a good job, lad.” the big looked over his shoulder—the patrolman was patrolman was fumbling for more weapons in a block away. farther behind came the the prisoner's pockets and the prisoner was forms of other men whom the chase had rocking to and fro, dazed, on the car track. drawn into its wake. "i want ye to help me to the box wit' him.” when he reached the red lanterns tommy while they waited for the wagon his first scott was in sore distress. it had been a opportunity for reflection came to tommy hard run even for him, who had distanced scott. the hoof-beats of the horses were more than one officer in his time. his body sounding far away on the asphalt when he was all but exhausted, but his mind worked turned to the officer, removing a hand, light cool and quick. so far as his brain was con as a feather, from the crook's twisted gar- cerned his blood might have been running on ments. even pulses instead of pumping until every “i'm sick,” he said; “i'll just step 'round artery throbbed so that he could feel it. the corner for a drink o'water.” revolver in hand he crept to the edge of the wagon had long been gone when the the excavations. sewer connections were patrolman started in search of the prisoner's being made with a tall building, and the captor. he was not prone to deep thought, black gulf yawned in the roadway. from this patrolman. but he puzzled long over its hidden bowels came a voice, vibrant with his failure to find this other. for he had passion, and menacing: "another step an' the fairly general habit of looking at things i'll blow yer head off!” from a single view-point, of starting from one tommy scott licked his lips and crouched. premise and reasoning in a straight line. that the defiance wakened his anger anew. at one character might be complex enough to once the thief's rule of doing what the im- include both a thief and a zealous captor of pulse calls for, demanded obedience. he thieves he began vaguely to understand when leaped into the blackness. the prisoner in court charged him with steal- a crash, and a blinding smother of pungenting a $ bill from his pocket. the balance by witter bynner i ose your heart, you lose the maid, l it's the humor of her kind; trim the balance to a shade, keep your heart and keep the maid! keep your heart, you keep the maid, but yourself you never find- fling the balance unafraid! find your heart and lose the maid! straight talk by “everybody's" readers if at any time there are statements in everybody's magazine which you believe to be incorrect, or views expressed to which you take exception, or subjects discussed upon which you can throw additional light, write to us. we shall not be able to publish all the letters. do not write at too great length. we may use excerpts from your letter and sign your initials unless otherwise instructed. for every letter which we are able to publish we will present the writer, as evidence of our appreciation and in no sense as compensation, with a year's subscription to everybody's magazine, to be sent to the writer of the letter, or to any one selected by the writer.—the editor. hope hall ing to trust to friends who did not pilot his course wisely, and that he would have fared better my attention has been called by some of our through hope hall. men in prison to an article which appeared re- the whole idea of our work has been to save the cently in your magazine. it is called “the men from the brand of “ex-convict.” a man tragedy of the released convict," by i. k. going from hope hall is not in any sense a marked friedman. the men within prison feel very man. his residence at our home does not put a strongly that a wrong has been done to our work, brand upon him nor draw any lines between him in which many thousands of them are deeply inter- and the outside world. our idea has always been, ested, by the paragraph which i will quote. in finding positions for these men, to place them speaking of a paroled convict, mr. friedman with good christian business men who will keep writes as follows: their secret. if it becomes known that they are "our paroled convict realized, too, that in hav- hope hall boys, it is simply because they them- ing had work secured for him by friends, he was selves have talked of their past. more fortunate than those who had to depend for we believe that one of the grave errors of the employment either on one of the bureaus sup- released prisoner in the past has been the fact that ported by the state or else on hope hall, which he has gone out into life under false colors. real- owed its existence to the beneficence of the vol- izing the prejudice in the world, he has lied to unteers of america. to hope hall, though it obtain a position, and indeed, in many instances, did what good it could, there were serious objec- he could not have obtained a living chance had tions, for here a man came into contact every he told the truth. now, we do not believe in night with other ex-convicts; and if things went marking these men nor proclaiming them as wrong with him, or if he were thrown out of work, reformed prisoners, but we do believe that the he would be tempted to fall in with a comrade's first employer should know of the past, in justice suggestion that, since honesty didn't pay, it was to himself and in justice to the man. then, should wiser to make 'easy money' by a return to crime. a detective “spot” him or should some old com- moreover, in so far as he could see, there was panion out of spite inform against him, his em- little difference between coming from hope hall ployer cannot be prejudiced, for he already knows and from the penitentiary—both branded a man the facts and he will be the first to protect the man a member of the criminal class and put up hard against hounding. and fast lines between him and the outer world now, as over five thousand men have passed where his one hope lay.” through my two hope halls, a large majority the paroled man of whom this story is written of them having done well, and many of them was laboring under a very unfortunate misappre- having done splendidly in their new careers, i hension and, as the story turns out, it proves feel that i can speak with authority. the only conclusively that he was most unfortunate in hav- safe way for the returning prisoner is to sail straight talk under true colors, and the precaution to be taken this matter, would it not help to solve the question is the forming of a friendship which will stand by of our future supply of cherry, walnut, oak, chest- him in the many vicissitudes of life. nut, and other kinds of timber? it will take time, a man may find that his first position is not of course, but if we begin now don't you think a suitable for him; the firm to which he goes may good start could be effected within the next twen- fail in business; or he may find perhaps that there ty-five years? m. s. t. are others working with him whose lives are such caledonia, n. y. that contact with them means temptation. in the case of our hope hall boys, they will immediately refer to us. we find for them other positions and stand by them in hours of stress and difficulty. if from a prisoner's wife they have not come to hope hall and trust merely mr. brand whitlock. to the personal friend who has recommended mayor of city of toledo. them to such a position, they often find them- dear sir:-i want to thank you simply, kindly, selves adrift once more, as did this unfortunate for your splendid article, as seen in the may num- man whose record shows that he returned to joliet. ber of everybody's magazine, regarding the in regard to these men being subject to tempta- prison system in the united states; andif you don't tions arising from association with others while in think this presumption, i would like to urge you to hope hall, it should be remembered that hope continue writing about and probing this matter hall is not a refuge for criminals but that the ma- until the whole world must realize and recognize jority within our homes are earnest, reformed the terrible injustice of the present administration men. instead of filling a discouraged comrade's of affairs both in the united states of america and mind with ideas of the desirability of returning to in canada concerning the disposal of the unfortu- the old life, they would try to encourage him in nate classes “who are caught.” the most damn- his efforts and dissuade him from an evil course. ing blot on all civilization is where it is possible the men within the prison walls have spoken for man to sit in judgment on his fellow man and very strongly in their own prison paper, “the star send him away into moral oblivion and darkness of hope,” in contradiction to this inference made for years and years. it would be more merciful against their loyalty to the purposes and princi- if all punishment were made capital, than to send ples of the volunteer prison league and the home men where they herd them as they do beasts, which so many of them look upon with loyal af- starve their bodies and slowly but surely kill their fection. souls. can nothing be done to reform this bar- believe me, barian practise of sending people to prison for very cordially yours for our country's prisoners, long terms? maud ballington booth. to-night away in stony mountain peniten- cooper square, new york. tiary my husband is undergoing the long weary sentence of seven years. i am only twenty-two years of age; four years ago we were married, and this is true patriotism three years of that time he has spent in prison. last june he was discharged, and i met him in can you not interest your readers, especially winnipeg; we were buoyant and full of hope; but those residing in the country or on farms, in it was the same old story; we had not money taking up the matter of planting trees so that enough to leave the locality of his first offense; no there may be a future supply of timber suitable for matter where we went, we were always recognized lumber? by those vigilant servants of the law; like the poor, i understand that some of the railroads are they are always with us. it was, “what are buying up old abandoned farms and lands that you doing here? you had better move on. we have ceased to be useful for cultivation, and re- don't want you here.” if work was obtained it planting them for timber supplies in the years to was only a matter of weeks, sometimes only days, come. until the superintendent, or man in charge, would without doubt there are thousands of farms come to my husband and say in conciliatory tone: everywhere throughout the country whose owners “well, f ..., we are very sorry but we have could be interested in reforesting their lands. i heard, and you know for the sake of the business am sure there is scarcely a farm but has some we cannot have you here.” hard toil was out of portion that could be utilized for tree planting, the question; prison life makes sure of that. some hilly field, or wet pasture, or stony lot, that what spirit had not been destroyed by the incar- is practically of no value to the farm. why could ceration died within him, and, as it were, he was this not be reset with suitable trees? i knew of a forced back to the old life. one night, with a maiden lady in new hampshire who had a hill lot companion (who had also just finished a term at that could not be cultivated, on which she planted the same retreat), he burglarized a house to the acorns with the full expectation of having an oak extent of fifty dollars, and they sent my husband grove there some day; and why not? back to stony mountain for seven years. if all of our land owners could be interested in and now listen as to how they deal out so- everybody's magazine called justice here. several weeks later, his com- realize the importance of having students sit in panion was also caught and brought up on the the correct position when studying? undoubt- same charge, and they sent him to the common edly emphasis on this matter would help greatly. jail for three months. singular code of fairness at all events, we must do something. what can this. they were both repeaters, both on the you suggest ? e. r. a. same charge, yet one goes down for three months detroit, mich. and the other for seven years. and why? be- cause one had money to get a lawyer and the other-well, you understand. and this, at least prisons necessary in canada, is a fair illustration of what they call i read with a great deal of interest, as many justice. the drunkard and criminal of all grades thousands of your readers must have done, mr. are kept where they are by the conditions made by brand whitlock's article, “what good does it the no less drunken and criminal men in power. do?” published in a recent number of every- the salvation of the world must be the religion body's. of love, not fear. mr. whitlock, teach men that mr. whitlock is evidently sincere in his that they are brothers and you will do more for hatred of our penal and correctional system, the world than all the carnegie libraries or there can be no doubt, but does he supply a rea- churches either, for those that need help do not sonable and practicable remedy for the system he go to church. so scathingly attacks and condemns? again thanking you for having voiced your mr. whitlock admits the necessity for crim- opinions on the subject, i am always, inal courts and prisons; near the end of his your sincere friend, article, after denying the right of society to in- • one on whom this blighting curse flict punishment on any of its members, he says, has fallen. “all that society has a right to do is to protect toronto, may , . itself by restraining those of proved dangerous tendencies.” with that statement his expressed idea that courts and prisons are wrong in theory the health of school children and practise, must fall. how can society know who of its members have proved dangerous ten- for some time past i have viewed with alarm dencies unless society itself sits in judgment? the rapidly increasing number of sickly school therefore we have courts. how can society re- children, and as a result i have devoted a great strain those of proved dangerous tendencies un- deal of time and thought to an effort to devise or less society by physical force places them under suggest something that will ameliorate this condi- restraint? therefore we have prisons. tion. surely no one will gainsay the need of im- instead of attacking the evils that exist in the provement in this direction. the number of system of courts and prisons, mr. whitlock at- children whose eyesight is defective is appalling. tacks the system itself, though he admits the ne- recently out of , school children examined cessity for it. from his article one would sup- in new york city, , were found to have pose that all society out of prison hated or was imperfect vision. indifferent to its unfortunate members in prison how many of our children are round-shoul- and took delight in placing and keeping them dered and have contracted chests! what is the there. that the prisons were filled with persons reason for this? i believe the way students are whose only crime was poverty. that every per- allowed to sit at their desks has a great deal to do son connected with a court of law, from the judge with this condition. it is only too evident to on the bench to the janitor who cleaned it, took teachers, and those who have the opportunity of personal pleasure in punishing fellow human seeing children in school, that very few, indeed, beings. mr. whitlock complains that judges sit erect in their seats. the position they assume become hardened. hardened - no. accus- and retain for five hours a day certainly tends to tomed-yes. the experienced judge is better make them round-shouldered. not only that, able to bear the horror and pity of crime than the but the eyes are affected because their heads are young law student. so is the experienced sur- not held erect, and the focal distance to their work geon who saves hundreds of lives a year better is not the same for both eyes. how often do we able to bear the horror and pity of blood than the see students with books on their knees or in their young medical student at his first clinic. shall we laps. could any position be more detrimental to therefore abolish surgery? their general health? to me, as to mr. whitlock, one of the saddest a great many instances similar to the above sights in the world is the interior of a police court, could be enumerated, but the ones mentioned but i cannot help feeling inspired by the personal should suffice to make parents and those inter- knowledge that usually the man on the bench is ested give this important matter their earnest conscientiously doing his best in his arduous duty consideration. to society on the one hand and to the unfortunate the question is—what can we do to improve ore before him on the other. these conditions? can teachers be brought to abolish the courts and prisons, policemen then straight talk become almost figureheads. their power of ar- rest is gone. imagine the resulting automobile accidents on fifth avenue alone. automobilists as a class can hardly be said to be poverty stricken or to have proved dangerous tendencies, and yet experience shows we must have policemen and courts and prisons to keep automobilists in rea- sonable check. no, when all is said and done mr. whitlock reaches blindly for the impossible. he states that society punishes for the sake of punishment, ig- noring throughout his article the tremendous re- forms and progress which are accomplished facts, not •theories. the intelligent extension of the probation system is but one of a hundred in- stances. it is made possible by the efforts of thousands of noble men and women throughout the country who scientifically study the courts and prisons with a view to correcting their existing defects and evils instead of applying wholesale abuse and condemnation to a system necessary for poor human nature. t. f. s. new york. idea run away with you so fast as to rattle you. do not help an agitation that is already too ex- cited. state legislatures seem to forget that in passing laws to punish lines that may really de- serve punishment, they are also insuring those lines against competition. it may be you are really only after increased circulation, and that by shouting the popular cry the loudest, you may get it. if so, of course there is nothing to be said. but if you want to lead rather than follow, while it sounds contradictory, i believe the way to lead now is by putting on the brakes and going slow. s. m. avery island, la. small vs. big stores i have carefully read your article on "the department store at close range." it is written in the interest of the “big stores," and is most un- fair, misleading, and inaccurate. said stores are “fooling the people all the time.” everybody's magazine is supposed to be fair and generally against trusts (which these stores substantially are; carrying on the business on the principles of the standard oil company). will you publish some facts showing how the public are cheated and deluded, and proving that they are better served by small stores? the sham of the big stores, their special sales and bargains, ought to be exposed; will you do it, or some other maga- zine? on page you say that the department stores' profit is “only the cash discount"; your contrib- utor, hartley davis, evidently has not tried to learn facts or he would have learned that some of the big stores are “slow pay” and do not take ad- vantage of discounts for this and much more he has drawn on his imagination. a customer will be more fairly treated in the small stores and, with the exception of “fakes,” get the same goods for less money there. t. s. springfield, mass. put on the brakes judging by your recent articles on overcapitali- zation, you seem to be willing to stand responsible for calling it a steal to increase capitalization. , let me ask you: if you were now to sell stock in everybody's, and make it a regular stock company, would you be in any way governed or influenced by the price paid for the magazine by the present owners? why should you? if you now set a higher value on the property, would you consider others justified in calling the present owners thieves? mr. harriman may be no better morally than a dealer in gold bricks. but though he may be truly a thief, all railroad men are not necessarily also thieves. as a body, they are honorable men, even as you and i, and their methods are not all to be condemned, merely because at the moment one of the most prominent cares more for personal gain than for public good. even the southern pacific has good men who work for it, and do what they can within their powers to help the people unfortunate enough to depend on it wholly for transportation. this agitation against railroads, and inciden- tally against all great combinations of wealth and power, is doing great injury to many who are hon- estly trying to build up industries. what we need in the section where i am writing is more rail- roads, more competition in transportation facili- ties. present conditions only discourage every attempt to obtain relief, and, while making it prac- tically impossible to obtain subscriptions to stock in competing lines, also lessen the efficiency, while forever tending to strengthen the monopoly, of ex- isting powerful combinations. there is always another side. do not let an the seamy side of the curtain i am always interested in articles upon the stage, and, i may add, usually disgusted by them. so often they remind me of stories of “high society”-the doings of sir harold and lady gwendolyn-as written for a public of maid servants and factory girls. the writers seem to have that same cheap, false-colored, hysterical imagination — that evident lack of knowledge which makes an article so tawdry. so it was with the greatest pleasure that i read mr. elmer b. harris's “the seamy side of the curtain” in the august everybody's. its re- straint and fidelity were excellent, and yet the writer did not lose sight of the humorous and picturesque. i know it must be interesting to the outsider. to everybody's magazine me it brought that curious little "pang" that the odor of grease paint does or the sound of the orchestra going out to their places-or a load of scenery going through the streets. m. n. with mr. tim murphy, en route. the same proportionate shape, and that all birds are equipped with the same power of flight-both assumptions being correct only in a very general way–we have the following equation for deter- mining their wing area: the wing surface in square feet equals the square of the cube root of twice the weight in pounds. if we apply this law to some of the birds as given in the table of wing areas in mr. bolce's article, we obtain the following figures: name weight in lbs, actual wing theoretical surface wing sur- in sq. ft. face. sq. ft. . . . . . “the adventurer” praised “the adventurer" is all right. as we say out here in california, it is a "find." your “little stories of real life" are very good reading, your articles are above the standard, but what we want is a rattling good story, not too short, that will keep us from becoming drowsy while we are reading it, and will act as a tonic for overworked nerves when the reader picks it up in the evening, after a hard day's work. we have found such a story. it is “the adventurer.” we are hard to please out here-indeed, east- erners think we are too independent; but if we are critical, we also know when we have found some- thing worth while, and are not slow to say so. and “the adventurer” is worth while. mr. editor, we want more of its kind. h. w. lad. hermon, cal. screech-owl..... black-headed gulll fish-hawk...... turkey-buzzard.. griffin-vulture...! condor. ........ . . . . . . . . . . the mystery of bird flight in the excellent article on “the mystery of bird flight,” by harold bolce, in everybody's for august, allusion is made to the fact that the size of the wings decreases in proportion to the increase in size of the body of the flying creature, and it is called "a most puzzling paradox, per- haps the most mysterious of the enigmas of bird flight.” as the solution of the problem of aerial naviga- tion depends largely on an accurate knowledge of the principles governing bird flight, and as the problem is daily becoming of greater popular in- terest, it may be well to state that the proportion of wing surface to weight follows a very simple and easily understood law. the sustaining power of the wings depends not on their area, but on their displacement. if we take two wings of equal width, but one double the length of the other, and move them through the segment of a circle, the larger one will dis- place four times the air that is displaced by the shorter one. but if we keep the wings of equal length, but have one double the width of the other, the wider one will displace only twice as much air as the narrower one. the sustaining power, therefore, varies directly with the width of the wing, but varies as the square of the length. if we assume that the wings of all birds are of mr. bolce states that "the australian crane, for instance, weighs over three hundred times more than the sparrow, but in proportion has only one-seventh of the wing area of the smaller bird." under this law, with a wing area of only one-sev- enth proportionately, it should weigh times more. mr. bolce also states that “the stork weighs eight times more than the pigeon but in propor- tion has only half as much wing surface." this agrees exactly with this law. i do not know whether this law governing wing areas is known to others studying aerial naviga- tion. i found it necessary to reduce it to a definite formula in my investigations. applying this law to human flight, if man should equip himself with artificial wings, and the combined weight of man and wings should be pounds, he would need a wing surface of . square feet. a flying machine weighing , pounds would require a wing area of square feet. h. r. new york. a happy hooligan dog i want to thank your artists and your writers for the story of “alexander" in your september magazine. it is unapproachable. the expres- sion on the dog's face, that happy hooligan dog; from sitting on the torn umbrella, with a piece in his mouth, to looking out from under the barn!-and the knowing look of the cock! there is no nature faking in “alexander.” your mag- azine is good from the first page to the last, from roosevelt to alexander. e. e. b. elk grove, cal. flemin a row of books by johan barrett a few weeks ago i spent a night in a small he thereupon sat him down quickly and wrote manufacturing city in new england, and in “anna, the adventuress," whereby he made unto walking about after dinner i came upon a crowd himself friends of the mammon of unrighteous- packed ten deep about an itinerant merchant who ness and was received into their houses. nor had set up a small rostrum under a glaring torch. has he ever lost the entrée. he has, instead, as i stopped to listen, he was saying: “and developed into one of the most consistent per- friends, just to show you that i am no miser, i formers in the ring, and his latest story is always am slipping into the box with this five-dollar a safe selection when one is in search of polite stylographic pen an extra nib, solid gold, worth a excitement. “the lost leader” (little, brown), dollar and a half; and a vial of this indelible like “the betrayal” and several others of mr. marking fluid; and this set of quadruple plate, oppenheim's novels, is a story of english politics, patent detachable shirt studs; and," i did not or, to be more correct, since it bears the same re- wait to hear the full list of his generosity. but i lation to real life as does a melodrama staged by smiled as i turned away, because i had just daly, it has to do with cabinet ministers, leaders finished “satan sanderson” (bobbs-merrill), by of the opposition, an influential duchess, and hallie erminie rives. and she, in addition to a machiavellian intrigue. the author has the blind heroine who, ten minutes after marrying magnetism of the born story-teller; he writes the villain, recovers her sight and mistakes the always well within his powers, and he is sure hero for her husband, had slipped into the plot both of himself in his chosen rôle and of his (as a guaranty of good measure), one case of audience, such as it is. double personality; one complete loss of memory; one set of mistaken identities, founded upon duplicate countenances carelessly issued by dame nature; one poker game played upon the mr. forman, on the other hand, began with no communion table for a man's soul; one mysterious more serious intent than that of voicing his very murder, and one vicarious atonement. i dare genuine and very delightful sense of sentiment, say that ten per cent. of the population of clinton, his artistic appreciation of youth, and his con- massachusetts, is to-day signing the pay-roll with viction that this is a good world to live and love stylographic pens; and doubtless a new printing in. he, too, was endowed with the story-teller's of "satan sanderson” will be announced in the magnetism. “journey's end” gained him the near future. competition is assuredly a great public's attention and “tommy carteret” satis- civilizer. fied it that he had found his métier. but mr. forman refuses to see it so. he is determined to be tragic. he is, indeed, very like a master of mr. e. phillips oppenheim and mr. justus the piccolo who insists upon performing on the miles forman are two popular writers in whose bass viol. and in “buchanan's wife," and respective employment of their talents one sees now in "a stumbling block” (harper), we find exemplified the wisdom of the children of this him busy breaking the butterfly of his talent upon world and the unwisdom of the children of light. the wheel of his ambition. “a stumbling block” mr. oppenheim began his career by writing is the story of a young writer in whom one cannot “enoch strone," a creditable attempt at serious but trace a resemblance to mr. forman himself. fiction which, however, bored the many without certainly davie rivers writes real forman especially edifying the few. mr. oppenheim fiction and faces life with the true forman spirit. apparently took the hint of its small success, for he gets into trouble, however, not by writing the everybody's magazine wrong kind of books, but by marrying the wrong woman, and it is in trying to extricate him that mr. forman lapses into tragedy. now, the truth is that none but seers and pessimists can afford to be tragic, and, at that, the pessimist generally makes a mess of it. we wish mr. forman would come back home. small tempest in the critical teapot. but his “nineveh, and other poems" (moffat, yard), only serves to place him, very definitely, in the cellar school. indeed, so far from being modern, or from offering any hope of the resuscitation of cock robin, mr. vierick is really medieval. they say that, biologically speaking, each in- dividual rehearses in his own person the history of the race. if this is true artistically, mr. vierick has reached the stage of morbid develop- ment represented by an eleventh century monk. the greater part of his verse is devoted to gloating over visions of st. anthony temptations and to accusing mother eve of having bribed the serpent to offer her the apple. this sort of thing is hardly calculated to get much of a grip on the practical idealism of the twentieth century. practical ideali: before we bid a none too sorrowful farewell to the fiction of the summer season, there are a couple of its novels that may easily have escaped notice in the crowd and that are each worth a word of commendation; one for its amused but appreciative sizing up of an attractive weakling, and the other for its open-hearth, hammer-and- anvil forging of a situation peculiarly recalcitrant to modern handling. the first of these is by jean wardle and is called, most happily, “the artistic temperament” (mcclure, phillips). it deals with a social and amatory crisis in the career of a young london painter; a situation sufficiently commonplace and sordid were it dealt with as mere realism, but saved and savored by the author's nice discrimination between the inherent weakness of her characters and the humor of their self-deception. the other is “the penalty” (dodd, mead), by harold begbie. it is a story whose dramatic impulses spring from religious convictions, and is rather remarkable in that it makes good on these lines in a day when religious convictions are seldom dramatic. the plot, the successive scenes of its rapid unfolding, the underlying atmosphere of the story itself, are all near to being vociferous and are close to the border line of poor taste. but they are held in subor- dination by the adequacy of the characters whom mr. begbie has created for the several róles. in he plot is like a red gown, saved from conspicuity by the way in which it is worn. biographies are like muskmelons. there are few things better than a fine one, but they run poor so much of the time that one gets tired open- ing them, not to mention paying for them. but they have the advantage that, since we may par- take of one without consuming it, we can exclaim, “my, but this is a good biography!" without appearing selfish. the “life and letters of edwin lawrence godkin” (macmillan) is worth exclaiming over and worth partaking of. mr. godkin was one of those irishmen who wielded the pen as boldly, as skilfully, and as joyously as others of his countrymen wield the shillalah. there were few questions upon which he did not take sides; there never was but one side of any question for him; and for over forty years, in the columns of the nation and of the evening post, he pitted his judgment against all comers and left his adopted country in his debt. mr. rollo ogden, the editor of the present work, found him- self faced by a dilemma and confronted with an opportunity. he had to bring us into touch either with the intellectual or with the personal side of mr. godkin's career; and he chose the former. with the mass of mr. godkin's written criticism, con- troversy, and comment before him, he saw that he had the chance, instead of writing his life, to edit his memoirs; and he embraced the chance. the result passes in review for us, through the medium of a cool, keen, and aggressive mentality, most of the prominent men and most of the big issues of the past sixty years. it would really be a very interesting thing if some adequately clear-eyed critic would under- take, quite seriously and simply, to explain the estrangement, apparently due to incompatibility of temper, that has arisen between poetry and modern thought. it has some connection, one is inclined to believe, with the fact that we live in an age that is so enamored of definite answers that it names most of its new religions "sciences.” in other words, if we ask “who killed cock robin?” we rather expect to hear“i, said charles darwin.” of course, every once and again, we hear great things about some new poet. but they are mostly, come to examine them, cases of arrested development; hold-overs from the past, sprouting rather obnoxiously, like potatoes kept too long in the cellar. just now it is george sylvester vierick who, by the rather gorgeous efflorescence of his decay, is the exciting cause of a there are some books that one is, in a sense, constrained to speak of for the paradoxical reason that there is little to say of them. this is the case with robert hichens's new story, “bar- bary sheep” (harper). it is an acceptably en- tertaining short story of a capricious and spoiled beauty's midwinter madness in the algerian desert. but it is more of a curtain raiser than a novel, and, so considered, it achieves its effect of a row of books grimm, helvetius, turgot, beaumarchais and condorcet. decidedly the séance is worth sitting through. glamour and solemnity more from the stage setting than from the acting. indeed, the one conscious memory that one carries away from it is its picture of the desert at night; vast, pulsating, cosmic. had it preceded “the garden of allah," however, or if it bore the name of jones upon the title-page, we should not be asking each other what we thought of it. it follows that our real interest is in mr. hichens, and “barbary sheep,” by its very sketchiness, enables us to put our finger upon a fact that we have all felt more or less in his more important work without ascrib- ing to it its real value and its actual power of limitation. mr. hichens, allowing for the differ- ence between the north and the south, and be- tween the analytical bias of to-day and the senti- mental bias of twenty years ago, is the logical successor of william black. he is a novelist of sorts, but he is more especially an artist who, although his medium is words instead of pig- ments, is essentially a colorist. his artistic merit lies in the fact that he explains his characters by his landscapes, while black only made of the one a valid excuse for introducing the other. other books “the american idea” (a. s. barnes). an informed and rational discussion of the ideals and conditions that have led to the cry of “race suicide.” an interesting book, by lydia k. commander. "the brass bowl” (bobbs-merrill). a bright, romantic detective story with more romance than detection. all quite unlikely and entertaining. written by joseph vance. “bachelor betty” (dutton). a young aus- tralian's account of writing for a living in london. a fresh, unpretentious, and enjoyable story by winifred james. "fräulein schmidt and mr. anstruther” (scribner). letters from a jilted fräulein to a re- pentant jilter, by the author of “elizabeth and her german garden.” low-grade ore. a great deal of reading for a very small clean-up. “john bull's other island” and “major bar- bara” (brentano's). two of george bernard shaw's plays, published with clever introductory essays which, as usual, are well worth reading. “abe martin” (bobbs-merrill). a book of misspelled indiana aphorisms and humor by a new artemus ward named kin hubbard. a good deal of it is genuinely funny. i had lived several months with s. g. tallen- tyre's volume of essays, “the friends of voltaire" i (putnam), facing me from the shelf, before find- ing the mood to dip into what might prove to be another grist of literary gossip about dead writers. for the mills that produce this particular kind of grist for market, though they grind not slowly, do assuredly grind exceeding small, and their output, while filling for the price, is far from nourishing. there are doubtless others who, through a like hesitancy, are by the way of missing a considerable treat. for, having finally opened the book in dubious inquiry, one stays to finish it with growing enjoyment. this author is one of those searchers of the past whose quest is living personalities, not dead facts. she he has a trenchant style and a radically construct- ive imagination; offering us, not the pros and cons of historical evidence, but her own conclu- sions, personified. in short, she has something of the "medium" about her, and, in a sense, materializes for us the spirits of the brilliant coterie with which she deals: of d'alembert, diderot, galiani, vauvenargues, d'holbach, "three weeks” (duffield). a study, by elinor glyn, of a young englishman's love for a great lady who was "beyond ordinary morality.” not to be mentioned before the young person." "england and the english, an interpretation" (mcclure, phillips). a volume of impressionism, chat, gossip, and what not. exceedingly well done, by ford madox hueffer. “the house of quiet” (dutton). one of a. c. benson's delightful studies of type, done in an autobiographical form. the supposed writer is a man of some ambition and culture, forced into invalidism. under the spreading chestnut tree editor's note.- a good story is a treasure, and, like other precious things, hard to find. our read- ers can assist us, if they will, by sending any anecdotes they find that seem to them good. though the sign is the chestnut tree, no story is barred by its youth. the younger the better. we shall gladly pay for available ones. address all manuscripts to “the chestnut tree.” the old housekeeper met the master at the door. “if you please, sir, the cat has had chickens.” “nonsense,” he laughed. “you mean kittens, mary. cats don't have chickens." “well,” inquired mary, "was them kittens or was them chickens that you brought home last and brought him to the ground, burying his knees deep into the sawyer's chest. biff! bang! thump! biff! “there,” he said, letting him have one parting blow square on the nose, “now m'bbe ye'll let the little felly hev it!” night?" “why, they were chickens, of course." “jus' so, sir. well, the cat's had 'em." a congressman's secretary, thinking he heard burglars in the house, woke the congressman. "sir, sir," he whispered sharply, “there are burglars in the house!” the congressman stirred uneasily in his sleep. “well," he mumbled drowsily, so there are in the senate.” “sir," said the bank president to a clerk whose face showed a three days' growth of beard, "you will have to get shaved.” “but, sir,” protested the clerk, “i am growing a beard.” "do what you like at home," snapped the president, “but i'll have you understand that you can't grow a beard during office hours." a big, burly, fierce-looking man and a meek, inoffensive-looking little chap were sawing timber with a cross-cut saw. a strapping irishman, passing that way, stopped to watch them. back and forth, back and forth, they pulled at the saw. finally, the irishman could stand it no longer. with a whoop and a yell he rushed at the big man "i don't want to be too hard on this dangerous contrivance of yours," said lincoln beachy, the aeronaut, in criticizing the airship of a rival. “it's a bad affair from every standpoint, but i'm willing to let it down as easy as the man did the careless barber. “the barber had evidently been out late the night before, for his hand was shaky and he cut his patron's cheek four times. after each offense he said, as he sponged off the blood, 'oh, dear me, how careless!' and let it go at that. “the patron said nothing, but when the shave was over he went to the water-cooler and filled his mouth with water. then, with tightly com- everybody's magazine second year my two little boys made up their minds to get a taste of one anyhow, so they took turns carryin' one along with the vine and but his companions had already started toward the bar-room door. looked up for himself. even cleveland's patience had an end. one day as his friend entered he remarked: "there are my books. help yourself to them. you can look up your own case.". the lazy lawyer stared at him in amazement. “see here, grover cleveland,” he said in- dignantly, “i want you to understand that you and your old books can go to thunder. you know very well that i don't read law. i practise entirely by ear.” “please, mum," began the aged hero in ap- pealing tones, as he stood at the kitchen-door on washday, “i've lost my leg— " “well, i ain't got it,” snapped the woman, slamming the door. “what little boy can tell me the difference between the 'quick and the dead'?” asked the sunday-school teacher. willie waved his hand frantically. "well. willie?" “please, ma'am, the 'quick’ are the ones that get out of the way of automobiles; the ones that don't are the dead.'” a wealthy man, revisiting his native village, was telling his old cronies around the store stove how he had achieved his great success. at the close of his recital an old village character that he had known as a boy entered. "how are you, tom?” said the great man, holding out his hand. “and how have you been getting along all these years?" the old fellow shifted his quid and spat. “wa'al,” he said, “when i hit this town more'n forty years ago i didn't have a red cent, an' now—wa'al, i guess i'm holdin' my own all right." a colored parson, calling upon one of his flock, found the object of his visit out in the back yard working among his hen-coops. he noticed with surprise that there were no chickens. "why, brudder brown,” he asked, “whar'r all yo'chickens?" "huh,” grunted brother brown without look- ing up, "some fool niggah lef' de do' open an' dey all went home." a traveler, finding that he had a couple of hours in dublin, called a cab and told the driver to drive him around for two hours. at first all went well, but soon the driver began to whip up his horse so that they narrowly escaped several collisions. “what's the matter?” demanded the passen- ger. “why are you driving so recklessly? i'm in no hurry." “ah, g'wan wid yez," retorted the cabby. “d'ye think thot i'm goin' to put in me whole day drivin' ye around for two hours? gitap!” a sickly lady, who was visiting a minnesota health resort on the advice of her physician, was seated at the table next to a ruddy-faced, robust- looking young man. "have you improved much since you came here?” the lady asked. “wonderfully, ma'am,” replied the young man. “and were you in very bad health when you came?” she persisted. “bad health? why, ma'am, when i first came here i was probably the weakest person you ever saw. i had practically no use of my limbs nor the use of a single faculty.” "dear, dear! and you lived?” “i certainly did, ma'am, although you really have no idea of how bad i was when i first arrived. i was absolutely dependent upon others for every- thing, being entirely without power to help my- self. but i commenced to gain immediately upon my arrival, and haven't experienced a serious setback since.” “wonderful, wonderful!” murmured the lady. “but do you think that your lungs were really affected?" “well, i suppose you'd call them sound, but they were possessed of so little vitality that if it hadn't been for the most careful nursing they'd probably have ceased their functions entirely." “i trust you found kind friends here, sir?" “indeed i did, ma'am. it is to them and to the pure air of minnesota that i owe my life. my father's family were with me, but, unfor- tunately, my mother was prostrated with a severe illness during the time of my greatest weakness.” “how sad! surely, sir, you must have been greatly reduced in flesh when you arrived here?” “yes, ma'am. they tell me that i only weighed nine pounds at the time of my birth here." when grover cleveland was practising law in buffalo one of his friends was a lazy young lawyer who was forever pestering him with questions about legal points that he could just as well have everybody imuagazime published by the ridgway company erman j. ridgway, president john o'hara cosgrave wm. l. jennings, sec'y and treas. ray brown, art director editor robert frothingham, ado. mgr. east th street, new york city with “everybody's" publishers s if you had a magazine, what would you print in it? there's a question for our readers. secretly, most people think they could make a better newspaper than their favorite daily. at least they could correct its obvious defects. and a daily has to be brought out times a year. the man who believes he could run an abler daily than its editors would make a nouthful of a magazine that has but one appearance every month. tust twelve magazines a year, and everyone knows that the stories and articles to put in it come in uncle sam's mail-bag. too easy, say all the host of stern critics whose habit it is to comment on the defects of institutions with which they come in contact. we don't take quite this view of our work here in everybody's, but we are well aware that there are scores of able persons among our readers who feel that if they were in our shoes they could show us a thing or two. we work pretty hard to do as well as we do, and-be- tween us and you—we think we are doing rather nicely, but distinctly there are people who don't agree with us. some of you will recall our september number. it had an article on the peace conference by vance thompson, an article on department stores by hartley davis. the president of the united states replied to dr. long. there was a story by may sinclair, who wrote “the divine fire,” besides half a dozen yarns, including a dog story, a horse story, and some other things. apart from our trouble in assembling these features, they actually cost us a pretty penny in real money. it was one of the most ex- pensive issues of the year. a week later this letter came in the mail: cupertino, cal. mr. editor: how could you ever have been in- duced to accept and publish such abominable trash as this september everybody's contains, from cover to editorials? the only possible explanation to my mind is that you got “back to the grind" too soon from your summer vacation and that you are suffering and want us to suffer from your absorp- tion of the summer-girl and cholly-tennis fever, which conduces to softening of the brain. reform or you're lost. the "artist" who perpetrated the cover ought to be shot, or, better, made to seek cover with “alexander.” cannot some of those silly writers be brought to time, or snuffed out? really, it is a crime to make up such a conglomera- tion and call it a magazine worth fifteen cents. i am suffering with a spell of mental and physical in- digestion brought on by this awful september hash that i've been obliged to feed upon. obliged, because i live ten miles out of town and depend upon the old and reliable magazine that i have known to fill the void that country life always con- tains. please tell our president that it is not polite or christian to knock a real man or use his name in such a way as he uses mr. long's. may god bless you and restore you to health and poise again. most sincerely, e. g. c. isn't that a scorcher? this lady found nothing good in any of our pages, and ob- viously she is sincere in her strictures. she says we didn't make good, and she is sure about it. when some one person feels strongly enough about a thing to express con- demnation so sternly, depend upon it that there are scores of others who agree but who won't take the pains to express their censure. when we read this letter—and all of us did—we proceeded to look into ourselves and ask questions. we have no divine right to edit everybody's. we can't make anyone read it. ours is chiefly a news-stand circulation, and we have to make every number so attract- ive and interesting that you'll feel bound to det ste lo hristmas cosy wm. balfovr ker copyright, , by wm. balfour ker. the story of an american home. iii. love among the ruins-the first pie. i verybody's jagazine vol xvi christwas nova happray bu eleanor hallowell abbott illustrated by emilie benson knipe t was not you, yourself, who invented gaunt old clock that loomed in the darker- your happy-day. it was your father, most corner of the alcove. you could not long ago in little-lad time, when a tiptoe to the candy box without plunging happy-day or a wooden soldier or headlong into a stratum of creakiness that high heaven itself lay equally tame puckered your spine as though an electric and giftable in the cuddling, curving devil were pulling the very last basting thread hollow of a father's hand. out of your little soul. oh, it must have been your father must have been a very a very, very aged room. the darkness was great genius. how else could he have abhorrent to you. the dampness reeked invented any happy thing in the black with the stale, sad breath of ancient storms. oak library? worst of all, blood-red curtains clotted at the the black-oak library was a cross- windows; rusty swords and daggers hung looking room, dingy, lowering, and al- most imminently from the walls, and along together boggy. you could not stamp the smutted hearth a huge, moth-eaten tiger your boot across the threshold with skin humped up its head in really terrible out joggling the heart-beats out of the ferocity. copyright, , by the ridgway company. all rights reserved. through all the room there was no lively chair and pushed you way out on his knees spot except the fireplace itself. and scrunched your cheeks in his hands and usually, white birch logs flamed on the ate your face all up with his big eyes. when hearth with pleasant, crackling cheerfulness, he spoke at last, his voice was way down deep but on this special day you noted with alarm like a bass drum. that between the gleaming andirons a soft, “little boy jack," he said, "you must red-leather book writhed and bubbled with never, never, never forget your dear mother!” little gray wisps of pain, while out of a charry, his words and the bir-r-r of them shook smoochy mass of nothingness a blue-flowered you like a leaf. muslin sleeve stretched pleadingly toward “but what was my dear mother like?” you for an instant, shuddered, blazed, and you whimpered. you had never seen your was-gone. mother. it was there that your father caught you, then your father jumped up and walked with that funny, strange sniff of havoc in your hard on the creaky floor. when he turned nostrils. round again, his eyes were all wet and shiny it was there that your father told you his like a brown stained-glass window. news. “what was your dear mother like?” he when you are only a little, little boy and repeated. “your dear mother was like- your father snatches you suddenly up in his was like—the flash of a white wing across a arms and tells you that he is going to be stormy sea. and your dear mother's name married again, it is very astonishing. you was 'clarice.' i give it to you for a memo- had always supposed that your father was rial. what better memorial could a little boy perfectly married! in the dazzling sunshine have than his dear mother's name? and of the village church was there not a thrilly there is a date—" his voice grew suddenly blue window that said quite distinctly, “clar- harsh and hard like iron, and his lips puckered ice val dere” (that was your mother) on his words as with a taste of rust- "there “lived” (lived, it said!) “june, -de- is a date—the th of april — no, that is cember, "? all the other windows said too hard a date for a little boy's memory! “died” on them. why should your father it was a thursday. i give you thursday for marry again? your-happy-day. 'clarice' for a memo- in your dear father's arms you gasped, rial, and thursday for your happy-day.” “going to be married?” and your two eyes his words began to beat on you like blows. must have popped right out of your head, “as-long-as-you-live,” he cried, “be for your father stooped down very suddenly very kind to any one who is named 'clarice.' and kissed them hard—whack, whack, back and no matter what time brings you- into place. weeks, months, years, centuries-keep thurs- "n- , not going to be married,” he day for your happy-day. no cruelty must corrected, “but going to be married-again.” ever defame it, no malice, no gross bitterness.” he spoke as though there were a great dif- then he crushed you close to him for the ference; but it was man-talk and you did not millionth, billionth fraction of a second, and understand it. went away, while you stayed behind in the then he gathered you into the big, dark scary black-oak library, feeling as big and the happy-day achy and responsible as you used to feel ly to your father if the housekeeper-woman when you and your dear father were carry- had not made you cry so that you broke your ing a heavy suit-case together and your dear explainer. but later in the night the most father let go his share just a moment to light beautiful thought came to you. at first per- his brown cigar. it gave you a beautiful haps it tasted a little bit sly in your mouth, feeling in your head, but way off in your stom- but after a second it spread like ginger, warm ach it tugged some. and sweet over your whole body except your so you crept away to bed at last, and toes, and you crept out of bed like a flannel dreamed that on a shining path leading ghost and fumbled your way down the black straight from your front door to heaven you hall to your dear father's room and woke had to carry all alone two perfectly huge suit- him shamelessly from his sleep. his eyes cases packed tight with love, and one of the in the moonlight gleamed like two frightened suit-cases was marked “clarice" and one dreams. was marked “thursday.” tug, tug, tug, “dear father," you cried — you could you went, and stumble, stumble, stumble, hardly get the words fast enough out of your but your dear father could not help you at mouth—“dear—father—i-do-not-think all because he was perfectly busy carrying a —bruno-is-a-very-good-name-for- fat leather bag, some golf sticks, and a bull- a-big-black-dog-i-am- going — to— terrier for a strange lady. name-him-clarice-instead!” it was not a pleasant dream, and you that was how you and bruno-clarice screamed out so loud in the night that the happened to celebrate together your first housekeeper-woman had to come and com- happy-day with a long, magic, joggling fort you. it was the housekeeper-woman train journey to massachusetts—the only or- who told you that on the morrow your iginal boy and the only original dog in all the father was going far off across the salt world. seas. it was the housekeeper-woman who the grandmother-lady proved to be a told you that you, yourself, were to be given very pleasant purple sort of person. exactly away to a grandmother-lady in massachu whose grandmother she was, you never found setts. it was also the housekeeper-woman out. she was not your father's mother. who told you that your puppy dog bruno- she was not your mother's mother. with bruno the big, the black, the curly, the wag- these links missing, whose grandmother gy, was not to be included in the family gift could she be? you could hardly press the to the grandmother-lady. everybody rea- matter further without subjecting her to the soned, it seemed, that you would not need possible mortification of confessing that she bruno because there would be so many other was only adopted. maybe, cruelest of all, dogs in massachusetts. that was just the she was just a paid-grandmother. trouble. they would all be "other dogs." the grandmother-lady lived in a per- it was bruno that you wanted, for he was the fectly brown house in a perfectly green gar- only dog, just as you were the only boy in the den on the edge of a perfectly blue ocean. world. all the rest were only “other boys.” that was the sight of it. salted mignonette you could have explained the matter perfect was the smell of it. and a fresh wind flap- - - - - everybody's magazine ta ping through tall poplar trees was always and forever the sound of it. the brown house itself was the living im- age of a prim, old-fashioned bureau backed up bleakly to the street, with its piazza side yanked out boldly into the garden like a riot- ous bureau drawer, through which the rising sun rummaged every morning for some par- ticular new shade of scarlet or yellow nas- turtiums. as though quite shocked by such bizarre untidiness, the green garden ran tat- tling like mad down to the ocean and was most frantically shooed back again, so that its little trees and shrubs and flowers fluttered in a perpetual nervous panic of not knowing which way to blow. but the blue ocean was the most wonderful thing of all. never was there such an ocean! right from the faraway edge of the sky it came, roaring, ranting, rumpling, till it broke against the beach all white and frilly like the grandmother - lady's best ruching. it was morning when you saw the ocean first, and its pleasant waters gleamed like a gorgeous, bright blue looking - glass covered with paper ships all filled with other boys' fa- thers. it was not till the first night came down — black and mournful and moany- it was not till the first night came down that you saw that the ocean was much too large. there in your chill linen bed, with the fear of sea and night and strangers upon you, you discovered a very strange droll thing—that your father was a person and might therefore leave you, but that your mother was a feeling and would never, never, never forsake you. bruno-clarice, slapping his fat, black tail against your bedroom floor, was some- thing of a feeling too. most fortunately for your well-being, the grand- mother-lady's house was not too isolated from its neighbors. to be sure, a tall, stiff hedge separated the green garden from the laven- der-and-pink garden next door, but a great scraggly hole in the hedge gave a beautiful prickly zest to friendly communication. more than this, two children lived on the other side of the hedge. you had never had any playmates before in all your life! one of the children was just another boy –a duplicate of you. but the other one was- the only original girl. next to the big ocean, she was the surprise of your life. she wore skirts instead of clothes. she wore curls instead of hair. she wore stockings instead of legs. she cried when you laughed. she laughed when you cried. she was funny from the very first second, even when the boy asked you if your big dog would bite. the boy stood off and kept right on asking:“will he bite? will he bite? w- - - he bite?” but the girl took a great rough stick and pried open bruno-clarice's tusky mouth to see if he would, and when he g-r- -w- -e-d, she just kissed him smack on his black nose and called him “a precious," and said, “why, of course he'll bite." the boy was ten years old-a year older, and much fatter than you. his name was sam. the girl was only eight years old, and you could not tell at first whether she was thin or fat, she was so ruffledy. she had a horrid dressy name, “sophia.” but everybody called her ladykin. oh, it is fun to make a boat that will flop sideways through the waves. it is fun to make a windmill that will whirl and whirl in the grass. it is fun to make an education. it is fun to make a fortune. but most of anything in the world it is fun to make a friend! you had never made a friend before. first of all you asked, “how old are you?” “can you do frac- tions?” “can you name the capes on the west coast of africa?” kin's father kept a huge candy store. it was “what is your favorite color? green? blue? mortifying to have to confess that your father pink? red? or yellow?” sam voted for was only an artist, but you laid great stress green. ladykin chose green and blue and on his large eyes and his long fingers. pink and red and yellow, also purple. then then you three went off to the sandy beach you asked, “which are you most afraid of, and climbed up on a great huddly gray rock the judgment day or a submarine boat?” to watch the huge yellow sun go down all sam chose the submarine boat right off, shiny and important, like a twenty-dollar gold so you had to take the judgment day, which piece in a wad of pink cotton batting. the was not a very pleasant fear to have for a pet. tide was going out, too, the mean old “injun- ladykin declared that she wasn't afraid of giver,” taking back all the pretty, chuckling anything in the world except of being home- pebbles, the shining ropes of seaweed, the dear ly. wasn't that a silly fear? then you got salt secrets it had brought so teasingly to your a little more intimate and asked, "what is feet a few hours earlier. you were very lone- your father's business?” sam and lady- some. but not till the gold and pink was al- everybody's magazine most gone from the sky did you screw your gulping sob, she kissed you warm and sweet courage up to its supreme point. first you upon your lips. threw four stones very far out into the surf, it was not a father-kiss with two tight then- arms and a scrunching pain. it was not a “what-is-your-mother — like?” you grandmother-lady kiss complimenting your whispered. clean face. it was not a bruno-clarice kiss, ladykin went to her answer with impetuous mute and wishful and lappy. there was no certainty: pain in it. there was no compliment. there “our mother,” she announced, "is fat was no doggish fealty. there was just sweet- and short and wears skin-tight dresses, and ness. is president of the woman's club, and is then you looked straight at ladykin, and sometimes cross.” ladykin looked straight at you, looked and a great glory came upon you and you looked and looked, and you both gasped clutched for wonder at the choking neck of right out loud before the first miracle of your your little blouse. life, the miracle of the mating of thoughts. "m-y mother,” you said, “m-y mother is without a word of suggestion, without a word like the flash of a white wing across a of explanation, you and ladykin clasped stormy sea!” hands and tiptoed stealthily off to the very edge of the water, and knelt down slushily you started to say more, but with a wild in the sand, and stooped way over, oh, way, war-whoop of amusement, sam lost his bal- way over, with the cold waves squirting up ance and fell sprawling into the sand. “oh, your cuffs; and kissed two perfectly round what a funny mother!” he shouted, but lady- floaty kisses out to the white sea-gull, and kin jumped down on him furiously and be- after a minute the white gull rose in the sky, gan to kick him with her scarlet sandals. swirled round and round and round, stopped “hush! hush!” she cried, “jack's mother for a second, and then with a wild cry is dead!” and then in an instant she had swooped down again into the blue- once! clambered back to your side again and snug- twice! and then with a great fountainy gled her little soft girl-cheek close against splash of wings rose high in the air like a yours, while with one tremulous hand she white silk kite and went scudding off like pointed way out beyond the surf line where a mad into the grayness, then into the black- solitary, snow-white gull swooped down into ness, then into the nothingness of the night. the blue. “look!" she gasped, “l-o-o-k!” and you stayed behind on that pleasant, safe, and when you turned to her with a sudden sandy edge of things with all the sweetness everybody's magazine his head off if he ever hit a gull, but fortu- puffy, scorchy-looking smoke tree, where nately-or unfortunately–ladykin's aim was you could cuddle up on the rustic seat and not so sure as sam's. it was you who had rest your honesty. and when you were to stay behind on the beach and pommel thoroughly rested, you used to stretch your more than half the life out of sam while lady- little arms behind your yawning face and kin, pink as a posy in her best muslin, scared beg: to death of wet and cold, plunged out to her “oh, ladykin, wouldn't you, couldn't little neck in the chopping waves to rescue a you please say something curly?” quivering fluff of feathers that struggled ladykin's mind seemed to curl perfectly broken-winged against the cruel, drowning naturally. the crimp of it never came out. water. “gulls are gulls!” persisted sam almost any time you could take her words with every blubbering breath. “gulls are that looked so little and tight, and unwind mothers !” gasped ladykin, staggering from them and unwind them into yards and yards the surf all drenched and dripping like a and yards of pleasant, magic meanings. bursted water - pail. “well, boy-gulls are there were no magic meanings in sam's gulls!” sam screamed in a perfect explosion words. sam, for instance, could throw as of outraged truth. but ladykin defied him many as a hundred stones into the water, yet to the last. through chattering teeth her when he got through he just lay down in ihe vehement reassertion sounded like some hor- sand and groaned, “oh, how tired i am! rid, wicked blasphemy: “nnnnnnnnnnnn-oo! oh, how tired i am!” but ladykin, after bbb-o-y ggggg-ggulls are mmmmmm- she'd thrown only two stones—one that hit mothers too!” then with that pulsing the beach, and one that hit you—would stand drench of feathers cuddled close to her right up and declare that her arm was “be- breast, she struggled off alone to the house witched.” tired? no, not a bit of it, but to have the croup, while you and sam went “be-witched!” hadn't she seen, hadn't you cheerily up the beach to find some shiners seen, hadn't everybody seen that perfectly and some seaweed for your new gull hospital. awful sea-witch's head that popped out of the not till you were quite an old boy did you wave just after she had thrown her first stone? ever find out what became of that gull. oh, indeed, and it wasn't the first time either sacred bruno-clarice ate him. ladykin, it that she had been so frightened! once when seems, knew always what had happened to she was sitting on the sand counting sea-shells, him, but she never dreamed of telling you till hadn't the witch swooped right out of the you were old enough to bear it. to ladykin, water and grabbed her legs? so, now if you truth out of season was sourer than straw- wanted to break the cruel spell, save ladykin's berries at christmas time. life, marry ladykin, and live in a solid tur- sam would have told you anything the quoise palace—where all the walls were pa- very first second that he found it out. sam pered with foreign postage-stamps, and no was perfectly great for truth. he could tell duplicates—you, not sam, but you, you, chosen more great black truths in one day than of all the world, must go down to the little har- there were thunder-clouds in the whole hot bor between the two highest, reariest rocks summer sky. this quality made sam just a and stick a spiked stick through every wave little bit dangerous in a crowd. he was al- that came in. there was no other way! ways and forever shooting people with truths now you, yourself, might possibly have in- that he didn't know were loaded. he was vented the witch, but you never, never would always telling the grandmother-lady, for have thought of harpooning the waves and instance, that her hair looked exactly like a falling in and drowning your best suit, while wig. he was always telling ladykin that ladykin rested her arms. . she smelled of raspberry jam. he was al- yet in the enforced punishment of an early ways telling you that he didn't believe your bedtime you were not bereaved, but lay in father really loved you. oh, everything rapturous delight untangling the minutest that sam said was as straight and lank and detail of ladykin's words, till turquoise cities honest as a lady's hair when it's out of crimp. blazed like a turquoise flashlight across your nothing in the world could be straighter than startled senses; wonderful little princes and that. princesses kowtowed perpetually to royal but sometimes, when you had played mother ladykin and royal father yourself; sturdily with sam for a good many hours, and life-sized postage-stamps loomed so lus- you used to coax ladykin off all alone to the ciously large that envelopes had to be pasted the happy-day to the corners of stamps instead of stamps geometry, and ladykin subscribed to a to the corners of envelopes. and before you fashion magazine for the benefit of her paper- had half straightened out the whole thought, dolls. you were fast asleep, and then fast awake, most astonishing of all, however, your and it was suddenly morning! oh, it is very father had invited you to go to germany comforting to have a playmate who can say and visit him. it was a glorious invitation. curly things. you were all athrill with the geography and sometimes, too, when sam's and ladykin's love of it. already your nostrils crinkled to mother had been rude to them about brush- the lure of tar and oakum. already your vis- ing their teeth or tracking perfectly good ion feasted on the parrot-colored crowds of mud into the parlor, and sam had gone off come-igrants and go-igrants that huddled to ease his sorrow, scatting hens or stoning along the wharves with their eager, jabbering cats, you and ladykin would steal down to faces and their soggy, wadded feet. the gray rock on the beach to watch the white, oh, the prospect of the journey was a most soft, pleasant sea-gulls. there were times, beautiful experience, but when the actual you think, when ladykin wished that her eve of departure came, the scissors of sep- mother was a sea-gull. then you used to aration gleamed rather hard and sharp in the wonder and wonder and wonder about your air, and you hunched your neck a little bit own mother, and tell ladykin all over again wincingly before the final crunching snip. about the creaky, black-oak library, and the that last evening was a dreadful evening. smoky, smelly hearth-fire with the hurt red the cook sat sobbing in the kitchen. the book, and the blue-flowered muslin sleeve grandmother-lady's eyes were red with beckoning and beckoning to you; and lady- sewing. the air was all heavy with going- kin used to explain to you how, very evidently, awayness. to escape the strangle of it, you were the only souvenir that your father you fled to the beach with bruno-clarice did not burn. with that thought in mind, tagging in mournful excitement at your heels, you used to guess and guess what could pos- his smutty nose all a-sniff with the foreboding sibly have happened long ago on a thursday leathery smell of trunks and bags. there to make a happy-day forever and ever on the beach in a scoopy hollow of sand ladykin said that of course it was something backed up against the old gray rock, were about “love," but when you ran off to ask sam and ladykin. sam's round, fat face the grandmother-lady just exactly what was fretted like a pug-dog's, and ladykin's “love” was, the grandmother-lady only eyes were blinky-wet with tears. laughed and said that "love" was a fever it was not a pleasant time to say good-by. that came along a few years after chicken- it had been a beautiful, smooth-skied day, pox and measles and scarlet fever. ladykin crisp and fresh and bright-colored as a “sun- was saucy about it. “that may be true,” day supplement”; but now the clouds piled ladykin acknowledged, “but taint so!” gray and crumpled in the west like a poor then you went and found sam and asked stale, thrown-away newspaper, with just a him if he knew what “love” was. sam knew sputtering blaze in one corner like the kin- at once. sam said that “love" was the dling of a half-hearted match. feeling that one had for mathematics. now "please be kind to bruno-clarice,” you that was all bosh, for the feeling that you and began; “i shall miss you very much-very, ladykin had for mathematics would not very much. but i will come back- have made a happy-day for a cow. “n-, i do not think you will come but even if there were a great many back," said ladykin. “you will go to ger- things that you could not find out, it was a many to live with your father and your play- good deal of fun to grow up. apart from mother, and you will gargle all your words a few stomach-aches and two or three gnaw- like a throat tonic till you don't know how ing pains in the calves of your legs, aging was to be friends in english any more; and even a most alluring process. if you did come back bruno-clarice would springs, summers, autumns, winters, went bark at you, and i shall be married, and sam hurtling over one another, till all of a sudden, will have a long, black beard.” without the slightest effort on your part, you now you could have borne ladykin's mar- were fifteen years old, bruno-clarice had riage; you could even have borne bruno- grown to be a sober, industrious, middle clarice's barking at you; but you could not, aged dog, sam was idolatrously addicted to simply could not bear the thought of sam's everybody's magazine growing a long black beard without you. father so suffering; yet when he took you in even ladykin with all her wonderfulness sat his arms and raised your face to his and utterly helpless before the terrible, unexpected quizzed you: “little boy jack, do you love climax of her words. it was sam who leaped me? do you love me?" you scanned him into the breach. the clutch of his hand was out of your mother's made-over eyes and an- like the grit of sand-paper. "jack,” he swered him out of your mother's made-over stammered, “jack, i promise you-anyhow mouth: i won't cut my beard until you come!” “n-o! n-o! i don't love you!" and he jumped back as though you had it was certainly only the thought of sam's knifed him, and then laughed out loud as faithful beard that sustained you on your though he were glad of the pain. rough, blue voyage to germany. it was cer “but i ask you this,” he persisted, and the tainly only the thought of sam's faithful shine in his eyes was like a sunset glow in the beard that rallied your smitten forces when deep woods, and the touch of his hands would you met your father face to face and saw have lured you into the very heart of the flame. him reel back white as chalk against the “it is not probable,” he said, “that your dear silky shoulder of your play-mother, and hide mother's child and mine will go through life his eyes behind the crook of his elbow. without knowing love. when your love- it is not pleasant to make people turn white time comes, if you understand then, and for- as chalk, even in germany. worse yet, every give me, will you send me a message?” day your father grew whiter and whiter “oh, yes," you cried out suddenly. “oh, and whiter, and every day your pretty play- yes! oh, yes! oh, yes!” and clung to him mother wrinkled her forehead more and frantically with your own boyish hands, and more in a strange, hurty sort of trouble. kissed him with your mother's mouth. but never once did you dare think of ladykin. you did not love him. it was your mother's never once did you dare think of bruno- mouth that loved him. clarice. you just named all your upper so you went away to school in england teeth “sam," and all your lower teeth “sam,” and grew up and up and up some more; but and ground them into each other all day long somehow this latter growing up was a dull -“sam! sam! sam!” over and over and process without savor, and the years went by over. there were, also, no happy-days in as briefly and inconsequently as a few dis- germany, and nobody ever spoke of clarice. missing sentences in a paragraph. there you were pretty glad at last after a month were plenty of people to work with and play when your father came to you with his most with, but almost no one to think with, and beautiful face and his most loving hands, and your hard-wrought book knowledge faded to said: nothingness compared to the three paramount “little boy jack, there is no use in it. convictions of your youthful experience, you have got to go away again. you are a namely, that neither coffee nor ocean nor wound that will not heal. it is your dear life tasted as good as it smelled. mother's eyes. it is your dear mother's and then when you were almost twenty- mouth. it is your dear mother's smile. one you met “clarice"! god forgive me, but i cannot bear it! i am it was at a christmas supper party in a going to send you away to school in england.” café. some one looked up suddenly and you put your finger cautiously up to your called the name “clarice! clarice!” and eyes and traced their round, firm contour. when your startled eyes shot to the mark and your mother's eyes? they felt like two saw her there in her easy, dashing, gorgeous heaping teaspoonfuls of tears. your moth- beauty, something in your brain curdled, and er's mouth? desperately you poked it into a all the lonesomeness, all the mystery, all the smile. “going to send me away to school in elusiveness of life pounded suddenly in your england?” you stammered. “never mind. heart like a captured will-o'-the-wisp. “Člar- sam will not cut his beard until i come.” ice?” here, then, was the end of your jour- “what?"cried your father in a great voice. ney? the eternal kindness? the flash of “w-h-a- ?" a white wing across your stormy sea ? “clar- but you pretended that you had not said ice!" and you looked across unbidden into anything, because it was boy-talk and your her eyes and smiled at her a gaspy, astonished father would not have understood it. smile that brought the strangest light into her never, never, never had you seen your face. everybody's magazine and then at last you stood again on your to me! i am so lonesome i cannot wait to native land, alive, well, vital, at home! make love to you. oh, please, please love with the sensation of an unbroken mir- me n-o-w. i need you to love me n-o-w!" acle, you found your way again to the little ladykin frowned. it was not a cross massachusetts sea town, along the peaceful frown. it was just a sort of a cosy corner for village walk to the big brown house that her thoughts. surprise cuddled there, and turned so bleakly to the street. there on the a sorry feeling, and a great tenderness. steps, wonder of wonders, you found two “you have not been a very good boy?” elderly people, bruno-clarice and the grand- she repeated after you. mother-lady, and your knees gave out very t he memory of a year crowded blackly suddenly and you sank down beside bruno- upon you. "no," you said, “i have not clarice and smothered the bark right out of been a very good boy, and i am very suffer- him. ing-sad. but please love me, and forgive me. “good lack!” cried the grandmother- no one has ever loved me!” lady, “good lack!” and made so much noise the surprise and the sorry feeling in lady- that sam himself came running like mad kin's forehead crowded together to make room from the next house; and though he had no for something that was just womanliness. beard, you liked him very much and shook she began to smile. it was the smile of a and shook his hand until he squealed. hurt person when the opiate first begins to with the grandmother-lady plying you overtake the pain. with questions, and sam feeling your muscle, “oh, i'm sure it was an accidental bad- and bruno-clarice trying to crawl into your ness," she volunteered softly. “if i were ac- lap like a pug-dog baby, it was almost half cidentally bad, you would forgive me, wouldn't an hour before you had a chance to ask, you?" “where is ladykin?" “oh, yes, yes, yes," you stammered, and “she's down on the beach,” said sam. reached up your lonesome hands to her. “i'll go and help you find her.” “then you don't have to make love," she you looked at sam speculatively. “i'll whispered. “it's all made," and slipped give you ten dollars if you won't," you said. down into your arms. sam considered the matter gravely before but something troubled her, and after a he began to grin. minute she pushed you away and tried to re- “i'll do it for five,” he acquiesced. nounce you. so you went off with bruno-clarice hob “but it is not thursday," she sobbed; "it bling close at your heels, to find ladykin for is wednesday; and my name is not ‘clarice'; yourself. when you saw her she was perched it is ladykin.” up on the very top of the huddly gray rock t hen all the boyishness died out of you- playing tinkle tunes on her mandolin, and the sweet, idle reveries, the mystic responsibil- you stole up so quietly behind her that she ities. you shook your father's dream from did not see you till you were close beside your eyes, and squared your shoulders for your own realities. then she turned very suddenly and looked "a man must make his own happy-day," down upon you and pretended that she did you cried, “and a man must choose his own not know you, with her color coming and go- mate!" ing all luminous and intermittent like a pink before your vehemence ladykin winced and white flashlight. in six years you had back against the rock and eyed you fear- not seen such a wonderful play-matey face. somely. “who are you?" she asked. “who are “oh, i will love you and cherish you,” you you?" pleaded. “i am 'little boy jack' come back to but ladykin shook her head. "that is marry you,” you began, but something in the not enough,” she whispered. there was a wistful, shy girl tenderness of her face and kind of holy scorn in her eyes. eyes choked your bantering words right off t hen a white gull flashed like an appar- in your throat. ition before your sight. ladykin's whole fig- “yes, ladykin," you said, “i have come ure drooped, her cheek paled, her little mouth home, and i am very tired, and i am very quivered, her vision narrowed. there with sad, and i am very lonesome, and i have not her eyes on the white gull and your eyes been a very good boy. but please be good fixed on hers, you saw her shy thoughts jour- her. “next to reading matter”. ney into the future. you saw her eyes smile, sadden, brim with tears, smile again, and come homing back to you with a timid, glad surprise as she realized that your thoughts too had gone all the long journey with her. she reached out one little hand to you. it was very cold. “if i should pass like the flash of a white wing,” she questioned, "would you be true to me-and mine ?" the past, the present, the future rushed over you in tumult. your lips could hardly crowd so big a vow into so small a word. “oh, yes, yes, yes!” you cried. in reverent mastery you raised her face to yours. “a man must make his own happy- day," you repeated. “a man must make his own happy-day!” timorously, yet assentingly, she came back to your arms. the whisper of her lips against your ear was like the flutter of a rose petal. “it will be wednesday, then,” she said, "for us and-ours." clanging a strident bell across the magic stillness of the garden, sam bore down upon you like a steam-engine out of tune. “oh, i say," he shouted, "for heaven's sake cut it out and come to supper.” the startled impulse of your refusal faded before the mute appeal in ladykin's eyes. “all right,” you answered; “but first i must go and cable 'love' to my father.” “oh, hurry!” cried ladykin. her word was crumpled and shy as a kiss. “oh, hurry!” cried sam. his thought was straight and frank as a knife and fork. joy sang in your heart like a prayer that rhymed. your eager heart was pounding like a race horse. the clouds in the sky were scudding to sunset. the surf on the beach seemed all out of breath. the green mead- ow path to the village stretched like the pal- triest trifle before a man's fleet running pace. “but i can't hurry," you said, for bruno- clarice came poking his grizzled old nose into your hand. “oh, wait for me," he seemed to plead. “oh, please, please wait for me." “next to reading matter" by o. henry author of "the four million,” “the trimmed lamp,” etc. illustrations by martin justice lte compelled my interest as ness and irregularity of feature it he stepped from the ferry that spellbound you with wonder at desbrosses street. he had the and dismay. so may have looked air of being familiar with hemi- afrites or the shapes metamor- spheres and worlds, and of enter- phosed from the vapor of the ing new york as the lord of a fisherman's vase. as he after- demesne who revisited it after years of ab- ward told me, his name was judson tate; sence. but i thought that with all his air, and he may as well be called so at once. he had never before set foot on the slippery he wore his green silk tie through a topaz cobblestones of the city of too many caliphs. ring; and he carried a cane made of the he wore loose clothes of a strange bluish- vertebræ of a shark. drab color, and a conservative, round, pan- judson tate accosted me with some large ama hat without the cock-a-hoop indenta- and casual inquiries about the city's streets tions and cants with which northern fanciers and hotels, in the manner of one who had disfigure the tropic head-gear. moreover, he but for the moment forgotten the trifling was the homeliest man i have ever seen. details. i could think of no reason for dis- his ugliness was less repellent than startling praising my own quiet hotel in the down- -arising from a sort of lincolnian rugged- town district; so the mid-morning of the night everybody's magazine found us already victualed and drinked (at daughter of the alcalde of oratama, as chief my expense), and ready to be chaired and actors. and, another thing—nowhere else tobaccoed in a quiet corner of the lobby. on the globe except in the department of there was something on judson tate's treinta y tres in uruguay does the chuchula mind, and, such as it was, he tried to convey plant grow. the products of the country i it to me. already he had accepted me as speak of are valuable woods, dyestuffs, gold, his friend; and when i looked at his great rubber, ivory, and cocoa.” snuff-brown, first-mate's hand, with which he “i was not aware," said i, “that south brought emphasis to his periods, within six america produced any ivory.” inches of my nose, i wondered if, by any “there you are twice mistaken,” said jud- chance, he was as sudden in conceiving en- son tate, distributing the words over at least mity against strangers. an octave of his wonderful voice. “i did not when this man began to talk i perceived say that the country i spoke of was in south in him a certain power. his voice was a per- america-i must be careful, my dear man; suasive instrument upon which he played i have been in politics there, you know. but, with a somewhat specious but effective art. even so—i have played chess against its he did not try to make you forget his ugli- president with a set carved from the nasal ness; he flaunted it in your face and made it bones of the tapir-one of our native speci- part of the charm of his speech. shutting mens of the order of perissodactyle ungu- your eyes, you would have trailed after this lates inhabiting the cordilleras—which was rat-catcher's pipes at least to the walls of as pretty ivory as you would care to see. hameln. beyond that you would have had “but it was of romance and adventure and to be more childish to follow. but let him the ways of woman that i was going to tell play his own tune to the words set down, so you, and not of zoological animals. that if all is too dull, the art of music may “for fifteen years i was the ruling power bear the blame. behind old sancho benavides, the royal high “women,” said judson tate, "are mys- thumbscrew of the republic. you've seen terious creatures.” his picture in the papers-a mushy black my spirits sank. i was not there to listen man with whiskers like the notes on a swiss to such a world-old hypothesis—to such a music-box cylinder, and a scroll in his right time-worn, long-ago-refuted, bald, feeble, il- hand like the ones they write births on in the logical, vicious, patent sophistry—to an an- family bible. well, that chocolate potentate cient, baseless, wearisome, ragged, unfounded, used to be the biggest item of interest any- insidious falsehood originated by women where between the color line and the paral- themselves, and by them insinuated, foisted, lels of latitude. it was three throws, horses, thrust, spread, and ingeniously promulgated whether he was to wind up in the hall of into the ears of mankind by underhanded, fame or the bureau of combustibles. he'd secret, and deceptive methods, for the purpose have been sure called the roosevelt of the of augmenting, furthering, and reenforcing southern continent if it hadn't been that their own charms and designs. grover cleveland was president at the time. “oh, i don't know!” said i vernacularly. he'd hold office a couple of terms, then he'd “have you ever heard of oratama?” he sit out for a hand-always after appointing asked. his own successor for the interims. "possibly," i answered. “i seem to re- “but it was not benavides, the liberator, call a toe dancer-or a suburban addi- who was making all this fame for himself. tion-or was it a perfume?—of some such not him. it was judson tate. benavides name.” was only the chip over the bug. i gave him “it is a town,” said judson tate, "on the the tip when to declare war and increase im- coast of a foreign country of which you know port duties and wear his state trousers. but nothing and could understand less. it is a that wasn't what i wanted to tell you. how country governed by a dictator and controlled did i get to be it? i'll tell you. because by revolutions and insubordination. it was i'm the most gifted talker that ever made there that a great life-drama was played, with vocal sounds since adam first opened his myself, judson tate, the homeliest man in eyes, pushed aside the smelling-salts, and america, and fergus mcmahan, the hand asked: “where am i?' somest adventurer in history or fiction, and “as you observe, i am about the ugliest señorita anabela zamora, the beautiful man you ever saw outside of the gallery of “next to reading matter” photographs of the new england early out a lot of political unrest and chop off a christian scientists. so, at an early age, i few heads in the customs and military de- perceived that what i lacked in looks i must partments. fergus, who owned the ice and make up in eloquence. that i've done. i sulphur-match concessions of the republic, get what i go after. as the back-stop and says he'll keep me company. still small voice of old benavides i made “so, in a jangle of mule-train bells, we all the great historical powers-behind-the- gallops into oratama, and the town belonged throne, such as talleyrand, mrs. de pompa to us as much as long island sound doesn't dour, and loeb, look as small as the minority belong to japan when t. r. is at oyster bay. report of a duma. i could talk nations into i say us; but i mean me. everybody for four or out of debt, harangue armies to sleep on nations, two oceans, one bay and isthmus, and the battlefield, reduce insurrections, inflam- five archipelagoes around had heard of jud- mations, taxes, appropriations, or surpluses son tate. gentleman adventurer, they called with a few words, and call up the dogs of war me. i had been written up in five columns of or the dove of peace with the same birdlike the yellow journals, , words (with mar- whistle. beauty and epaulettes and curly ginal decorations), in a monthly magazine, mustaches and grecian profiles in other men and a stickful on the twelfth page of the new were never in my way. when people first york times. if the beauty of fergus mcma- look at me they shudder. unless they are in han gained any part of our reception in ora- the last stages of angina pectoris they are tama, i'll eat the price-tag in my panama. it mine in ten minutes after i begin to talk. was me that they hung out paper flowers and women and men-i win 'em as they come. palm branches for. i am not a jealous man; now, you wouldn't think women would i am stating facts. the people were nebu- fancy a man with a face like mine, would chadnezzars; they bit the grass before me; you?” there was no dust in the town for them to “oh, yes, mr. tate,” said i. "history is bite. they bowed down to judson tate. they bright and fiction dull with homely men who knew that i was the power behind sancho have charmed women. there seems " benavides. a word from me was more to “pardon me,” interrupted judson tate; them than a whole deckle-edged library from “but you don't quite understand. you have east aurora in sectional bookcases was from yet to hear my story. anybody else. and yet there are people who “fergus mcmahan was a friend of mine spend hours fixing their faces-rubbing in in the capital. for a handsome man i'll ad- cold cream and massaging the muscles (al- mit he was the duty-free merchandise. he ways toward the eyes) and taking in the slack had blond curls and laughing blue eyes and with tincture of benzoin, and electrolyzing was featured regular. they said he was a moles—to what end? looking handsome. ringer for the statue they call herr mees, oh, what a mistake! it's the larynx that the god of speech and eloquence resting in the beauty doctors ought to work on. it's some museum at rome. some german an- words more than warts, talk more than tal- archist, i suppose. they are always resting cum, palaver more than powder, blarney and talking. more than bloom that counts—the phono- “but fergus was no talker. he was graph instead of the photograph. but i was brought up with the idea that to be beautiful going to tell you. was to make good. his conversation was “the local harrylehrs put me and fergus about as edifying as listening to a leak drop- up at the centipede club, a frame building ping in a tin dish-pan at the head of the bed built on posts sunk in the surf. the tide's when you want to go to sleep. but he and only nine inches. the little big high low me got to be friends—maybe because we was jacks-in-the-game of the town came around so opposite, don't you think? looking at the and kowtowed. oh, it wasn't to herr mees. hallowe'en mask that i call my face when they had heard about judson tate. i'm shaving seemed to give fergus pleasure; “one afternoon me and fergus mcmahan and i'm sure that whenever i heard the feeble was sitting on the seaward gallery of the output of throat noises that he called con centipede, drinking iced rum and talking. versation i felt contented to be a gargoyle "judson,' says fergus, “there's an angel in with a silver tongue. oratama.' “one time i found it necessary to go down “so long,' says i, “as it ain't gabriel, why to this coast town of oratama to straighten talk as if you had heard a trump blow?' “judson,' says fergus, you know you are as beautiless as a rhinoceros." “it's the señorita anabela zamora,' says usually confine my side of the argument to fergus. 'she's-she's—she's as lovely as- what may be likened to a cheap phonographic as hell!' reproduction of the ravings of a jellyfish.' “bravo!' says i, laughing heartily. "you “oh, i know,' says fergus, amiable, 'that have a true lover's eloquence to paint the i'm not handy at small talk. or large beauties of your inamorata. you remind me, either. that's why i'm telling you. i want says i, 'of faust's wooing of marguerite you to help me.' that is, if he wooed her after he went down “how can i do it?' i asked. the trap-door of the stage. “i have subsidized,' says fergus, the “judson,' says fergus, 'you know you services of señorita anabela's duenna, whose are as beautiless as a rhinoceros. you can't name is francesa. you have a reputation have any interest in women. i'm awfully in this country, judson,' says fergus, 'of gone on miss anabela. and that's why i'm being a great man and a hero.' telling you.' “i have,' says i. 'and i deserve it.' “oh, seguramente,' says i. 'i know i “and i,' says fergus, 'am the best-look- have a front elevation like an aztec god that ing man between the arctic circle and the guards a buried treasure that never did exist antarctic ice pack. in jefferson county, yucatan. but there are . “with limitations,' says i, as to physiog- compensations. for instance, i am it in nomy and geography, i freely concede you to this country as far as the eye can reach, and be.' then a few perches and poles. and again, “between the two of us,' says fergus, says i, 'when i engage people in a set-to of “we ought to land the señorita anabela za- oral, vocal, and laryngeal utterances, i do not mora. the lady, as you know, is of an old “next to reading matter” spanish family, and further than looking at be seen, and make love to her for him—for her driving in the family carruaje of after the pretty man that she has seen on the plaza, noons around the plaza, or catching a glimpse thinking him to be don judson tate. of her through a barred window of evenings, “why shouldn't i do it for him--for my she is as unapproachable as a star.' 'friend, fergus. mcmahan? for him to ask “land her for which one of us?' says i. me was a compliment—an acknowledgment “for me, of course,' says fergus. "you've of his own shortcomings. never seen her. now, i've had francesa "you little, lily-white, fine-haired, highly point me out to her as being you on several polished piece of dumb sculpture,' says i, occasions. when she sees me on the plaza, “i'll help you. make your arrangements and she thinks she's looking at don judson tate, get me in the dark outside her window and the greatest hero, statesman, and romantic my stream of conversation opened up with figure in the country. with your reputation the moonlight-tremolo stop turned on, and and my looks combined in one man, how can she's yours.' she resist him? she's heard all about your “keep your face hid, jud,' says fergus. thrilling history, of course. and she's seen me. 'for heaven's sake, keep your face hid. i'm "the alcalde leads me up to anabela." can any woman want more?' asks fergus mcmahan. “can she do with less?' i ask. "how can we separate our mutual attractions, and how shall we apportion the proceeds?' “then fergus tells me his scheme. “the house of the alcalde, don luis za- mora, he says, has a patio, of course—a kind of inner courtyard opening from the street. in an angle of it is his daughter's window—as dark a place as you could find. and what do you think he wants me to do? why, knowing my freedom, charm, and skilfulness of tongue, he proposes that i go into that patio at mid- night, when the hobgoblin face of me cannot a friend of yours in all kinds of sentiment; but this is a business deal. if i could talk i wouldn't ask you. but seeing me and lis- tening to you, i don't see why she can't be landed.' “by you?' says i. “by me,' says fergus. “well, fergus and the duenna, francesa, attended to the details. and one night they fetched me a long black cloak with a high collar, and led me to the house at midnight. i stood by the window in the patio until i heard a voice as soft and sweet as an angel's whisper on the other side of the bars. i could see only a faint, white-clad shape in- everybody's magazine du sicc. side; and true to fergus, i pulled the collar glance that i must be hers and she mine for- of my cloak high up, for it was july, in the ever. i thought of my face and nearly wet season, and the nights were chilly. and, fainted; and then i thought of my other talents smothering a laugh as i thought of the and stood upright again. and i had been tongue-tied fergus, i began to talk. wooing her for three weeks for another man! "well, sir, i talked an hour at the señorita “as señorita anabela's carriage rolled anabela. i say 'at,' because it was not slowly past, she gave fergus a long, soft 'with. now and then she would say: 'oh, glance from the corners of her night-black señor,' or 'now, ain't you foolin'?' or 'i eyes, a glance that would have sent judson know you don't mean that,' and such things tate up into heaven in a rubber-tired chariot. as women will when they are being rightly but she never looked at me. and that courted. both of us knew english and span- handsome man only ruffles his curls and ish; so in two languages i tried to win the smirks and prances like a lady-killer at my heart of the lady for my friend fergus. but side. for the bars to the window i could have done "what do you think of her, judson?' it in one. at the end of the hour she dis- asks fergus, with an air. missed me and gave me a big, red rose. i "this much,' says i. “she is to be mrs. handed it over to fergus when i got home. judson tate. i am no man to play tricks “for three weeks every third or fourth on a friend. so take your warning.' night i impersonated my friend in the patio at “i thought fergus would die laughing. the window of señorita anabela. at last she “well, well, well,' said he, 'you old dough- admitted that her heart was mine, and spoke face! struck, too, are you? that's great! of having seen me every afternoon when she but you're too late. francesa tells me that drove in the plaza. it was fergus she had anabela talks of nothing but me, day and seen, of course. but it was my talk that won night. of course, i'm awfully obliged to you her. suppose fergus had gone there and for making that chin-music to her of evenings. tried to make a hit in the dark with his but, do you know, i've an idea that i could beauty all invisible, and not a word to say have done it as well myself.' for himself! “mrs. judson tate,' says i. 'don't for- “on the last night she promised to be get the name. you've had the use of my mine—that is, fergus's. and she put her tongue to go with your good looks, my boy. hand between the bars for me to kiss. i be- you can't lend me your looks; but hereafter stowed the kiss and took the news to fergus. my tongue is my own. keep your mind on "you might have left that for me to do,' the name that's to be on the visiting cards says he. two inches by three and a half—“mrs. judson "that'll be your job hereafter,' says i. tate.” that's all. 'keep on doing that and don't try to talk. "all right,' says fergus, laughing again. maybe after she thinks she's in love she 'i've talked with her father, the alcalde, and won't notice the difference between real con- he's willing. he's to give a baile to-morrow versation and the inarticulate sort of droning evening in his new warehouse. if you were that you give forth.' a dancing man, jud, i'd expect you around “now, i had never seen señorita anabela. to meet the future mrs. mcmahan.' so, the next day fergus asks me to walk “but on the next evening, when the music with him through the plaza and view the was playing loudest at the alcalde zamora's daily promenade and exhibition of oratama baile, into the room steps judson tate in new society, a sight that had no interest for me. white linen clothes as if he were the biggest but i went; and children and dogs took to man in the whole nation, which he was. the banana groves and mangrove swamps “some of the musicians jumped off the as soon as they had a look at my face. key when they saw my face, and one or two “here she comes,' said fergus, twirling of the timidest señoritas let out a screech or his mustache-'the one in white, in the open two. but up prances the alcalde and al- carriage with the black horse.' most wipes the dust off my shoes with his “i looked, and felt the ground rock under forehead. no mere good looks could have my feet. for señorita anabela zamora was won me that sensational entrance. the most beautiful woman in the world, and “i hear much, señor zamora,' says i, 'of the only one from that moment on, so far as the charm of your daughter. it would give judson tate was concerned. i saw at a me great pleasure to be presented to her.' lartin duslin "i reached across the counter and seized him by the throat." “there were about six dozen willow rock- son tate, and what a big man he was, and ing-chairs, with pink tidies tied on to them, the big things he had done; and that was in arranged against the walls. in one of them my favor. but, of course, it was some shock sat señorita anabela in white swiss and red to her to find out that i was not the pretty slippers, with pearls and fireflies in her hair. man that had been pointed out to her as the fergus was at the other end of the room try great judson. and then i took the spanish ing to break away from two maroons and a language, which is better than english for cer- claybank girl. tain purposes, and played on it like a harp of “the alcalde leads me up to anabela and a thousand strings. i ranged from the second presents me. when she took the first look g below the staff up to f-sharp above it. i set at my face she dropped her fan and nearly my voice to poetry, art, romance, flowers, and turned her chair over from the shock. but moonlight. i repeated some of the verses i'm used to that. that i had murmured to her in the dark at “i sat down by her and began to talk. her window; and i knew from a sudden soft when she heard me speak she jumped, and sparkle in her eye that she recognized in my her eyes got as big as alligator pears. she voice the tones of her midnight mysterious couldn't strike a balance between the tones wooer. of my voice and the face i carried. but i “anyhow, i had fergus mcmahan going. kept on talking in the key of c, which is the oh, the vocal is the true art—no doubt about ladies' kev; and presently she sat still in her that. handsome is as handsome palavers. chair and a dreamy look came into her eyes. that's the renovated proverb. she was coming my way. she knew of jud- “i took señorita anabela for a walk in the everybody's magazine lemon grove while fergus, disfiguring himself “this happened for five evenings consec- with an ugly frown, was waltzing with the utively. claybank girl. before we returned i had “on the sixth day she ran away with fer- permission to come to her window in the gus mcmahan. patio the next evening at midnight and talk “it was known that they fled in a sailing some more. yacht bound for belize. i was only eight “oh, it was easy enough. in two weeks hours behind them in a small steamer be- anabela was engaged to me, and fergus was longing to the revenue department. out. he took it calm, for a handsome man, “before i saïed, i rushed into the botica and told me he wasn't going to give in. of old manuel iquito, a half-breed indian “'talk may be all right in its place, jud. druggist. i could not speak, but i pointed son,' he says to me, “although i've never to my throat and made a sound like escaping thought it worth cultivating. but,' says steam. he began to yawn. in an hour, ac- he, 'to expect mere words to back up suc- cording to the customs of the country, i would cessfully a face like yours in a lady's good have been waited on. i reached across the graces is like expecting a man to make a counter, seized him by the throat, and pointed square meal on the ringing of a dinner-bell.' again to my own. he yawned once more, “but i haven't begun on the story i was and thrust into my hand a small bottle con- going to tell you yet. taining a black liquid. “one day i took a long ride in the hot "take one small spoonful every two sunshine, and then took a bath in the cold hours,' says he. waters of a lagoon on the edge of the town “i threw him a dollar and skinned for the before i'd cooled off. steamer. “that evening after dark i called at the “i steamed into the harbor at belize thir- alcalde's to see anabela. i was calling reg teen seconds behind the yacht that anabela ular every evening then, and we were to be and fergus were on. they started for the married in a month. she was looking like shore in a dory just as my skiff was lowered a bulbul, a gazelle, and a tea-rose, and her over the side. i tried to order my sailormen cyes were as soft and bright as two quarts of to row faster, but the sounds died in my cream skimmed off from the milky way. larynx before they came to the light. then she looked at my rugged features without i thought of old iquito's medicine, and i got any expression of fear or repugnance. in- out his bottle and took a swallow of it. deed, i fancied that i saw a look of deep ad “the two boats landed at the same moment. miration and affection, such as she had cast i walked straight up to anabela and fergus. at fergus on the plaza. her eyes rested upon me for an instant; then "i sat down, and opened my mouth to tell she turned them, full of feeling and confi- anabela what she loved to hear—that she dence, upon fergus. i knew i could not was a trust, monopolizing all the loveliness speak, but i was desperate. in speech lay my of earth. i opened my mouth, and instead only hope. i could not stand beside fergus of the usual vibrating words of love and com- and challenge comparison in the way of pliment, there came forth a faint wheeze such beauty. purely involuntarily, my larynx and as a baby with croup might emit. not a epiglottis attempted to reproduce the sounds word — not a syllable — not an intelligible that my mind was calling upon my vocal sound. i had caught cold in my laryngeal organs to send forth. regions when i took my injudicious bath. “to my intense surprise and delight the “for two hours i sat trying to entertain words rolled forth beautifully clear, resonant, anabela. she talked a certain amount, but exquisitely modulated, full of power, ex- it was perfunctory and diluted. the nearest pression, and long-repressed emotion. approach i made to speech was to formulate "señorita anabela,' says i, 'may i speak a sound like a clam trying to sing 'a life on with you aside for a moment?' the ocean wave,' at low tide. it seemed “you don't want details about that, do that anabela's eyes did not rest upon me as you? thanks. the old eloquence had often as usual. i had nothing with which come back, all right. i led her under a co- to charm her ears. we looked at pictures coanut palm and put my old verbal spell on and she played the guitar occasionally, very her again. badly. when i left, her parting manner “ judson,' says she, 'when you are talking seemed cool-or at least thoughtful. to me i can hear nothing else, i can see “next to reading matter” nothing else—there is nothing and nobody else in the world for me.' “well, that's about all of the story. ana- bela went back to oratama in the steamer with me. i never heard what became of fergus. i never saw him any more. ana- bela is now mrs. judson tate. has my story bored you much?” "no," said i. “i am always interested in psychological studies. a human heart, and especially a woman's—is a wonderful thing to contemplate.” “it is,” said judson tate. “and so are the trachea and the bronchial tubes of man. and the larynx, too. did you ever make a study of the windpipe?". “never," said i. “but i have taken much pleasure in your story. may i ask after mrs. tate, and inquire of her present health and whereabouts?" “oh, sure," said judson tate. “we are living in bergen avenue, jersey city. the climate down in oratama didn't suit mrs. t. i don't suppose you ever dissected the arytenoid cartilages of the epiglottis, did you?” “why, no," said i, “i am no surgeon." "pardon me,” said judson tate, “but every man should know enough of anatomy and therapeutics to safeguard his own health. a sudden cold may set up capillary bronchitis or inflammation of the pulmonary vesicles, . wordla "judson,' says she, when you are talking to me, there is nothing and nobody else in the world for me." everybody's magazine which may result in a serious affection of the had poured gently upon me a story that i vocal organs.” might have used. there was a little of the "perhaps so," said i, with some impa- breath of life in it, and some of the synthetic tience; “but that is neither here nor there. atmosphere that passes, when cunningly tink- speaking of the strange manifestations of ered, in the marts. and, at the last it had the affection of women, - " proven to be a commercial pill, deſtly coated “yes, yes," interrupted judson tate, with the sugar of fiction. the worst of it “they have peculiar ways. but, as i was was that i could not offer it for sale. ad- going to tell you: when i went back to ora- vertising departments and counting-rooms tama i found out from manuel iquito what look down upon me.. and it would never was in that mixture he gave me for my lost do for the literary. therefore i sat upon a voice. i told you how quick it cured me. bench with other disappointed ones until my he made that stuff from the chuchula plant. eyelids drooped. now, look here.” . i went to my room, and, as my custom is, judson tate drew an oblong, white paste- read for an hour stories in my favorite mag- board box from his pocket. azines. this was to get my mind back to “for any cough," he said, “or cold, or art again. hoarseness, or bronchial affection whatsoever, and as i read each story, i threw the mag- i have here the greatest remedy in the world. azines sadly and hopelessly, one by one, you see the formula printed on the box. upon the floor. each author, without one each tablet contains licorice, grains; bal- exception to bring balm to my heart, wrote sam tolu, to grain; oil of anise, zo of a minim; liltingly and sprightly a story of some par- oil of tar, ao of a minim; oleo-resin of cu- ticular make of motor-car that seemed to bebs, of a minim; fluid extract of chu- control the sparking plug of his genius. chula, i of a minim. and when the last one was hurled from “i am in new york,” went on judson me i took heart. tate, "for the purpose of organizing a com- “if readers can swallow so many propri- pany to market the greatest remedy for throat etary automobiles," i said to myself, “they affections ever discovered. at present i am ought not to strain at one of tatc's com- introducing the lozenges in a small way. i pound magic chuchula bronchial lozenges.” have here a box containing four dozen, and so if you see this story in print you which i am selling for the small sum of fifty will understand that business is business, cents. if you are suffering " and that if art gets very far ahead of commerce, she will have to get up and i got up and went away without a word. hustle. i walked slowly up to the little park near my i may as well add, to make a clean job of hotel, leaving judson tate alone with his it, that you can't buy the chuchula plant in conscience. my feelings were lacerated. he the drug stores. the turn of the year by arthur stringer the pines shake and the winds wake, and the dark waves crowd the sky-line! the birds fly out on a troubled sky; the widening road lies white and long, and the page is turned, and the world is tired! so i want no more of twilight sloth, and i want no more of resting, and of all the e^rth i ask no more than the green sea, the great sea, the long road, the white road, and a change of life to-day! children of the long ago by-vance-thompson magic and the movse driver rough field, yellow a tailor, singing a song about herself—“la with whin-flowers, then belle marguerite.” her small brother lay on a plantation of ancient his stomach near-by and drummed his heels trees, and, beyond, the together. the ennui of life was upon him. he little river, with an old had been about everything that afternoon- flat-bottomed boat nosing the bank. there soldier and pirate, brigand and chauffeur; were three of the wise folk sitting there one he had been even, for a while, the king of afternoon. one of them was nine years old. lilliput, what time i lay a furious, helpless she had yellow hair and her eyes were the gulliver, tied up with grass. all these things color of a bee. she had woven herself belt and jack had enjoyed immensely for the time bracelets of the long grass that grows by the being. it was easy play. all he had to do, river. and now she was sitting on her feet like for instance, when he was a pirate, was to everybody's magazine remember what piracy our eyes and margaret really was. for the nor- “magicked” us. three mal boy is the sum-total times she repeated certain of his race. and when mystic words known to all he is let alone -- when the wise folk. 'tis an the grown-ups don't evident fact that children bother-he can remem- know things, remember ber all things his ances things, long ago forgotten tors have been, back to by the grown-ups. so the yellow-toothed, when we were properly hairy, vehement thing magicked we opened that chattered in a tree. our eyes and found our- and that was the way with jack. now, selves walking, two by two, in a narrow street however, the weight of life was upon him that led to an open garden with seven trees --tedium vita. “i want to do someving and four marble seats and wide paths radi- else," he said gloomily; “why don't you find ating from a fountain. and there a dozen someving else?” the third of the wise children, kilted in white wool, played im- people was jill, a two-year-old, supple and memorial games. had it not been for the white and fat. it was her destiny in life to way they were dressed, i do not think we repeat whatever jack said first; she added should have known that we were in the rome “somevin' else" and grinned cheerfully. of augustus, for the games and the toys were whereupon margaret stopped singing and those of the world we had sailed away from said gravely, almost reprovingly, “yes, it is in the flat-bottomed boat. one little roman time you found something else, now.” whipped a boxwood top; and another trun- (that is the beautiful thing about the wise dled a metal hoop hung with tiny bells; and a folk. they have a calm conviction that third rode a stick with a horse's head. little everything is due them. this belief is im- roman girls were playing hide-and-seek among bedded in child nature as a triangle is in a the ancient trees. no one paid any attention circle. they have, rightly enough, an in- to us; indeed, we had been so well magicked stinctive feeling that they are superior to the that they could neither see nor hear us. jack grown-ups; so they order them about and tagged after a young roman who was driv- claim what is due.) ing a team of mice hitched to a little wagon “all right, something else!” i said, and lay of wood. he saw delightful possibilities of on my back and thought darkly. the wise trouble in that game. the rest of us sat down folk respected the operation. at last i an- soberly and watched the hide-and-seekers. nounced: “we'll go to rome.” 'twas the same way we had played it by the “rome?” jack said dubiously, and jill river. one little girl covered her eyes with echoed "wome?" and grinned. her hands and waited until the others were hid but i insisted. i knew what i was talking away; then she shouted “ready!” and darted about. anything may happen in rome! about trying to discover them and “tag" 'tis a strange place! (once i was smoking them before they could reach “home.” we a cigar in the colosseum, when night fell; knew that game, and we watched it with ap- suddenly the silence was torn by the noise of proval; we might have been sitting there yet trumpets, and a cohort of skeletons in gilded if jack had not appeared, breathless and chariots came rushing by with screams of stammering with excitement. triumph; behind the chariots hung “vat boy is goin' home,” he said; broken weapons and fading laurel "hur-r-ry! hur-r-ry!” leaves and crowns. in dust and he set off running and of course windy speed they passed, and, for we followed. jill grinned in her a moment, rome triumphed once placid way, but margaret's face again; then in the colosseum there was dark with care. was only darkness, and silence fell.) “if jack gets lost or gets 'un- anything may happen in rome. magicked' or something, i'll never so we set out. we climbed into dare to face my kind parents," she the flat-bottomed boat and pushed said. “oh, do keep up with him!” it out into the stream to the length so we ran. jack's blue and white of the rusty chain. then we shut sailor suit was just disappearing children of the long ago under the portico of a brick house with a big running, and the great orator thrust his head wooden upper story. there were some bigger out of a wooden window and roared. jack, children-half grown-ups of twelve and thir like all other boys, has plenty of courage if you teen-playing “court” under the portico; at give him time to think it over, but this was far least that is what it looked like, for there were too abrupt. he dived at margaret for pro- a prisoner and a judge and a lanky boy mak- tection and we swept him out into the street. ing a speech; but of course we couldn't stop there margaret shook him and threatened to listen. jack had followed the mouse-driver to unmagic him and send him home if he let into a big open courtyard beyond and-for- go her hand once; only jill was unperturbed getting he was magicked-had squatted down —she grinned cheerfully and said: "i thaw a by his side and joined in a game of marbles. bwack man.” 'twas played with nuts, but 'twas the same of course after that we were very careful. game the little italian children play to-day we even talked in whispers, though that was with marbles. and this was the way of it. perfectly ridiculous, as nobody could hear us, the mouse-driver had drawn a triangle on the because we shouldn't be born for thousands of, ground; like this: years. there was a toy-shop, i remember, at a corner, near a big, oblong space that margaret said was a forum. the little street going by the front of the shop was called the vicus tuscus, but why it was called that we couldn't find out. it was narrow and shady and many people walked there. it was hard work dodging them, for we didn't dare let go hands. there were women with flowers in their hair, who smiled at the old senators; on the first line he had placed two nuts, on and there were young men in loose togas the second three, on the others four and five. coming from the baths; and slaves in brown then he knelt down a yard away robes; and philosophers in sandals, from the apex of the triangle, and and water - sellers, and boys who shot a nut out of his curled fore- pretended to read the circus adver- finger. now his object was to roll tisements on the pillars. then there the nut across as many lines as was the shop with an awning of possible without sending it out of light cloth, and rows upon rows of the triangle. if he passed the first dolls, lying down or sitting up or line he gained two nuts, while if he hanging by the hair. 'twas won- passed all the lines he won all the derful. some of the dolls looked nuts. jack watched him try it three like the old senators and some like times. then when the nuts were the women with garlands of flowers. nicely arranged he stepped in ahead and some could bend their knees of the mouse-driver and fired away. and elbows; and some had legs like of course that roman boy couldn't matches. those with real hair, and see jack. there were several rea- eyes made with bits of blue sea- sons. in the first place jack was shell, were so beautiful they made magicked. in the second place, this hap- margaret's heart ache; she called them pened in the rome of augustus-indeed “motherless darlings." jill of course only 'twas in the atrium of that great orator stood on her fat legs and grinned. that's asinius pollio—and jack couldn't possi- her way, and there's really no use in mag- bly be born for some two thousand years. icking her. there was one doll, with corn- anyway, those are reasons enough why the colored hair and a red phrygian cap, that mouse-driver couldn't see him. what he did looked so much like margaret that jack and see was a nut that lifted itself in the air and i winked at each other. he still felt rather was shot by an invisible thumb and fore- angry about the shaking (but after all if a finger straight into the triangle, driving the fellow's sister can't shake him for his soul's well-ordered nuts to right and left like nine- good, who can?); however, he said: “you pins. roman as he was, he started up with a can r-r-reach it-nip it for-r-r her-r-r!” scream that echoed round the atrium. all (jack has the rolliest "r's" to be found out in a second a black slave in a while shirt came of scotland.) everybody's magazine i nodded back approval of petty larceny. into the big space that margaret insists was but the shopkeeper was leaning against the the forum vetus. there jill sat down with- door-post, cutting his finger-nails with a little out warning, beat her knees together, and knife. he was a big, fat man in a dark tunic, wailed: "i want my milk! i want my muy- and looked as though he loved his property. ver— muvver!” so, regretfully, margaret moreover, we hadn't sight-seen round the unmagicked us. three times she said the shop yet. there were all kinds of gay- mystic words backwards; and lo, we were colored balls, hard-stuffed with feathers so sitting in the flat-bottomed boat by the bank they would bounce divinely; there were tops of the little river in far-away normandy. and swings and hoops. jill rubbed the tears out there were beds and of her eyes and repeat- couches and tables for ed: “i want my milk! dolls; there were toy i want my milk!” the chariots, and whistles rest of us looked at one made to look like wolves another and pretended and pigs and cocks and we had been dreaming horses; there were jump- – as indeed we might ing - jacks and wooden have been had it not roman soldiers; there been for the roman doll were “jacks”-only they with the corn - colored were made of bones hair and the phrygian from the feet of sheep. cap and the eyes like then the rattles and margaret's eyes — and drums hers are the color of a as we stepped out past bee. there was no the toyman, jack nudged dream about that. you me and pointed to the never saw a dream that doll that looked like moved its arms and margaret. legs and had hair that “nick it!” he said, would curl. we made and because i subtly a bed for the doll knew he meant it for a peace-offering—and in the locker of the boat; for we thought anyway it was two thousand years ago and i it just as well not to take it up to the wasn't born yet—i turned petty larcenist and house yet—grown-ups ask such silly ques- nicked it. then we ran; and we came out tions. the. swallowand-the-amber-monkey f course that was only our with a wooden crocodile that opened and first journey. there were shut its awful, crimson jaws—and cracked nuts many others. oftener than like mad. i might as well confess though, o not we left jill at home. she that no matter how potent the magic is- was a mere child-aged two and margaret's was the best and strongest -and no matter how severely you magicked white magic ever made—there must be one her, she'd spoil everything by howling for of the magicked who knows just where to go milk and “muvver” at most inopportune and what to see. now i happened to be that times. there never was such an appetite one who knew where to go. that was because as jill's. she'd turn the appian road into a during a shameful period of my life i was a milky way. margaret and jack and i, how- grown-up and fooled my time away on books ever, magicked ourselves into all sorts of instead of playing reasonable games with the places—why, once we sat with little tahoser, wise folk. so i knew many things. for the daughter of the high priest petamunoph instance, how ghoulish grown-ups had gone in far-away egypt, and played for a long time down into the ancient tombs of egypt and children of the long ago found a little girl wrapped in world-old cere- ments. (so long ago she lived that then the sunlight in which we walk had not yet started upon its journey toward the earth.) and beside the little girl they found a mirror of metal and ivory rings and all her toys. there was her ball; and beside it a little jumping jack, dressed like a fisherman, and a quaint wooden doll, draped in a yellow linen dress— a familiar little doll, for the paint has been kissed off the cheeks and one wooden foot has been broken and mended again. that was why we magicked ourselves to egypt—to play with the little daughter of the high priest and with her crocodile and her doll and a wonderful rattle with a head of lapis lazuli. and unless i had known of these things beforehand, how could we have found them? every holiday, of course, i had to discover something new. it was not always easy, for the musty old historians — they are all on the bookshelves yonder in latin and greek-never took the trouble to write about children. read them from one end to the other and you will come to the absurd conclusion that the affairs of that old world were carried on solely for grown- ups. what the wise folk said to one an- other; what games they played; what toys .—with inquiring wisdom—they broke; what perils they faced in dark corners of the nursery—there is hardly a word of all this. fortunately the artists, who never quite grow away from the wise folk, painted and carved these things for us. they are recorded in terra-cotta. and then those sad little tombs of the wise folk, whose very dust has van ished, have given up their secrets. see, here is a tiny ivory alphabet. they laid it beside their little man in his tomb, with his lead centurions and his toy buckler. and i know another child who played at "priest," as children play "church” in these days; in his box of toys were found miniature statues of the divinities, miniature oxen and sheep, miniature knives for the sacrifice; and there, too, was a terra-cotta pig that made a noise when he blew through it-perhaps to summon the faithful. childhood has always been the same. the wise folk are the eternal con- servatives. the baby's rattle is primeval. and what games were played in babylon are played to-day in omaha—the top spins and the ball bounds.. there was one fair custom of old. toys were cheap or costly, but they were all marked with the good workman's fancy, for machine-made things did not exist; so each toy-doll or drum, sistrum, or floating duck —was stamped with in- dividuality. now the kindly grown - up had the toys of his tiny son or daughter reproduced in miniature in silver or lead; and these dainty re- productions of the child's toys were hung (like ban- gles) on a necklace which was worn all day. do you know what purpose it served? margaret and jack and i found out one afternoon when we were magicking in athens. there was rumor of a lost child. and the town-crier, jangling a mighty rattle, halted and cried aloud-not a description of the lost one, but a list of the toy images she had worn on her necklace. they found her and comforted her with white figs. (the name of that lost child was pa- læstra, and plautus wrote one of his hundred and twenty plays about her.) eternal conservatives—here is a painted ser- pent and the mask of that bogey man, orestes, that a greek boy played with before there was any christmas in the world; and here are his toy hatchet, the cutting edge dented deep in desperate play; a mule with panniers, a scorpion in painted wood, clay pigs and horses and birds out of what ark i know not. you see the wise folk who go back into that antique world would feel quite at home, for nothing has really changed for them. why, one afternoon margaret, jack, and i met a band of barefoot children singing through the athenian streets. it had been st. basil's day when we magicked ourselves, so it must have been in the spring. each of the barefoot youngsters held in his hand a wooden swallow. 'twas a curious toy with a hollow handle in everybody's magazine which was a wheel; round the wheel ran a string which flut- tered the swallow's wings. shouting and whirling the wood- en birds, they trooped along. at each door they paused and sang: “she comes, she comes, the swallow, the messenger of spring; white on the belly black on back and wing." “they are like the christmas waits," said margaret. and always they laughed and shouted: “here is the swallow! spring has come! rejoice, re- joice! give us fried nuts—for we have come to tell you spring is here! our swallow promises you much wine and oil. give us a tart for the swallow-a roasted cake for the swallow who brings back the spring!” so with nuts and cakes they went their way. (the scottish children play that game to-day; once a year when hogmenay comes round.) that was very interesting. another day we watched the girls playing cot- tabus, which is the prettiest game in the world, as we saw it played by slim maidens. they were in a white marble court and the sunlight fell upon them. there was a queer sky over- head. it was pale and blue as sheffield steel. neither mar- garet nor i can ever forget the sky or the marble court or the sunlight on the slim girls; and when we are grown-ups and learn to paint we shall make a picture of it. especially of kinné. for she had sca-colored eyes and copper-colored hair; and she wore a short white chiton and had laid aside the outer garment which margaret told me was a chlanis; and per- haps it was. i think kinné was ten years old, but she was play- ing at cottabus in order to find out if some greek lad loved her true. this is the way it was: there was a small statue of eros standing upon a white pillar. above him was suspended a sil- ver balance, one scale being ex- actly over the mocking bronze head. now kinné, standing quite five feet away, filled a wine-cup and threw the wine so that it struck the balance and bore it down till it touched the head of eros. then kinné screamed with delight and the other girls cried: “he is true to you, o kinné! praise be to eros!” “praise be to eros!” kinné repeated. “and here, o kinné, is the prize you have won by your skill and good fortune.” the girl who said that had black eyes and red lips; laughing, she gave kinné the prize. 'twas a tiny amber monkey, with his thumb in his mouth. (he grins at me from a corner of the inkstand as i write, for a french archeologist found him in kinné's tomb- the amber monkey — and be- cause i was there when she won it at cottabus, he kindly gave it to me.) very marvelous were the toys of kinné. she showed them to us that day, though she thought she was quite alone. there were mechanical toys; margaret called them “eolipyles"; — the wise folk know these things. one of them was a copper vase, with a long thin neck sticking straight up in the air; when kinné put it on the fire, the water boiled and the steam came up through the neck and atop of it a light ball danced the mad- dest dance imaginable. and there was a wooden dove; it had to be wound up and then it flew round the room and clicked its wings as it flew. what we liked best were the ivory toys. above all, the ivory chariot, so wee, so wee-a fly could have covered it with his wings. (shakespeare might have given it to queen mab.) that was the day—or perhaps it was another time-it rained in athens; so, because children of the long ago margaret had promised to be careful of her new hat with the green ribbons and leaves, we ran for shelter. there were a lot of boys going that way. they were bare-legged, sandaled little fellows; over their chitons they wore short round cloaks and on their heads they had big, broad- rimmed hats like sombreros. they were all talking at once, but not very loud. and they kept looking at a bigger boy with eyes full of respect. they went into a kind of temple-a small one—and we dodged after them. there was a priest, too, who had word with the bigger boy, but his greek was so bad we couldn't make out what he said. at last the bigger boy strode manfully up to a white divinity in marble, who, by the winged hat and winged heels, we knew to be the roguish god hermes; and very distinctly the boy said: "i am philokles, o hermes, and i consecrate to thee my re- bounding ball, my loud-sound- ing rattle, the jack-stones i liked so well, my swift-going top, all the toys of my childhood.” at the god's feet he laid his toys and went away—a grown- up. and this seemed very sad, even when it had become quite familiar to us. we knew that philokles had gone out of our magic world forever. such things happened more than once. once upon a time mar- garet and i walked hand in hand down an avenue of pop- lars. high above us towered a mountain of white marble; be- low us was a sandy shore, yel- low as wrapping-paper, and, beyond, an azure sea stretched away to asia. somewhere we heard young voices, chanting a grave song; and between the tree-stems white-clad figures moved like shadows; but when we came to the place, they had vanished. what we found was a shrine of aphrodite, and at her feet were spread the tiny dresses of a doll. and the votive prayer read: “o aphrodite, do not despise the purple dresses of my dolls! i, sappho, consecrate to thee these precious offerings!” so we knew that we had come to lesbos the very day when sappho ceased to be one of the wise folk and entered the ab- surd grown-up world. somehow or other as the days went by—for school interferes seriously with the important business of life - our magic seemed to lose a little of its power. jack and i once went to sparta to witness a tug-of-war. and that was worth while! then we heard them talking about something they called sphæromachia. jack thought that meant a ball-battle, so we went along. it turned out to be football. the girls played, too, which disgusted us at first, for girls are useful but not strong. then just as we were getting warmed up to the game—a young spar- tan with a fox gnawing at his breast had made a stunning touchdown — just at that mo- ment, i say, something snapped and we found ourselves back in front of the wood-fire and the old chimney-place in normandy -staring at each other, jack and i, like idiots. we couldn't make out what had happened to us. so we consulted margaret. she said: “since i've begun german i'm not so good a magicker as i used to be." jack said: “you br-r-ung us back too quick!” “what if i couldn't have brought you back at all! think of that! what if the magic had stopped short while you were in sparta and you could never come home again to your kind and gen- erous parents and would have to stay there forever and ever " jack looked serious. “and of course none of the spartans could see you because everybody's magazine away you'd still be a magicked copper-colored hair, nor child, and they couldn't the lesbian twilight-it give you anything to was stained with amber eat and you'd starve and violet-through which sappho fled like a doe. these awful words never again. only we seemed to find a way to shall think of them very jill's sense of trouble; she often, as we think of the flopped down in her firm other wise folk we have and sudden manner and known on our way through knocked her knees together and roared for the world. in the years, perhaps, jack will milk. when she was fed and her grin had come to think of it as a dream; that will be reappeared, we considered the matter. there when he is a grown-up. but margaret and was a great deal in what margaret had said. i-always we shall know better. and if ever even jill saw that. at last we all stood up a faint doubt comes to her, she will go to the then we spun round on our heels three times: old chest of drawers in the norman nursery -it was a solemn and tragic moment—and and take out a yellow-haired doll in a red said something that unmagicked us forever. phrygian cap; then the doubt will vanish; forever and ever. and we shall never see the for that is the doll we nicked in rome (the mouse-driver again, nor the waits who sang shop was in the vicus tuscus) two thousand the song of the swallow, nor kinné with the years ago, in the reign of augustus. t.h.e · w·h•l·t·e · a•r•m•y nly childhood is eternal. one ends and the other begins. and it seems when i had written those like an endless procession, ever-changing and words i laid down my pen eternal—the white army of childhood. some- and stared into the wood times magic falls upon them. that hap- fire; a minute passed. it is pened once seven hundred years ago. there strange, when you come to think of it: in that were thousands of very small children. some- minute a hundred human thing called to them like beings were born, a hun- the voice of a bird. from dred died; the calculation germany and flanders was made long ago; it is and france they set out exact; in one hour six on a pilgrimage to the thousand corpses fall on savior's tomb in jeru- your way through life and salem. tiny pilgrims six thousand new voices they were, with birchen take up the wistful song of humanity. every staves and crosses of wooden flowers; tiny hour this little army of the wise folk marches pilgrims in white garments. they filled the into the world. i had never road like a swarm of thought of it that way be- white bees. and as they fore. so it marches down marched toward the sea the road of the years—with —to death or captivity- games and laughter, with they sang the songs of tears and cries—and him they sought in far- crosses the frontier of off judea. now, in all grown-up-land and is lost history there is nothing so from sight in the shadows. inexplicable as this chil- and another white army dren's crusade. it has follows in an hour. you always been a stumbling- can hardly make out where block to the historian; it children of the long ago is a dark riddle to the scientist; to the theo- brought us word of furtive slave-children logian it is a divine mystery. perhaps after playing a silent game with shells and verte- all it was only a symbol of this army that bræ in the corner of a muddy court; the wall marches each hour down the way of the world was made of bricks and an african sun beat —the army of those who march, singing, into down. i never saw those slave-children, but the captivity of grown-up-land. when margaret told me about them i knew it only childhood is eternal. only the wise was true for she is one of the wise folk. folk live forever and for the wise folk neither time nor space always there are three children dreaming nor other grim fictions of the grown-ups exist in a flat-bottomed boat on the river or yonder at all. they wander where they will and in front of the great norman chimney-piece, bring back strange old truths-like handfuls and what they dream is true. once margaret of flowers. en d in cloak of gray by alfred noyes i ove's a pilgrim, clothed in gray, l and his feet are pierced and bleeding; have ye seen him pass this way sorrowfully pleading? ye that weep the world away, have ye seen king love to-day? yea; we saw him, but he came poppy-crowned and white of limb! song had touched his lips to flame and his eyes were drowsed and dim; and we kissed the hours away till night grew rosier than the day. hath he left you?-yea; he left us a little while ago; of his laughter quite bereft us and his limbs of snow! we know not why he went away who ruled our revels yesterday! because ye did not understand love cometh from afar, a pilgrim out of holy land guided by a star; last night he came in cloak of gray begging! ye knew him not! he went his way. . ..au an old-fashioned reaper in south germany. the romance of the reaper by herbert n. casson author of “ the romance of steel and iron in america,” etc. editor's note.—bread is a nation's first essential. cities, railways, factories, must all be built upon bread. it is on this basis that mr. casson, in the series of which this is the first article, attributes america's prosperity in large measure to the reaper. for it is the reaper, born of the brain of young cyrus h. mccormick, on a backwoods virginia farm, that has made america the best fed nation in the world, that gave us twelve thousand million loaves of bread to eat in . the account of its origin, of the inventor's heroic crusade, of the great wheat-fields that the reaper has developed, and the great industries that have sprung up in its wake, is an absorbing romance, a true fairy tale of american life. the story of the reaper is a story of leviathan bites a twelve-foot roadway through u modern magic. the magicians are the grain with its sharp teeth and ties the plain, unmysterious american farmers. their sheaves with its steel fingers. four strong wand, their enchanted lamp, is a great, noisy, horses may be needed to move it—this giant bright-painted mechanical monster. and machine—but in all the great yellow field is the magic that has been wrought is the miracle no human being save the man who sits of modern civilization and the alleviation of comfortably on the harvester, driving. or the world's hunger. it may be a woman, or even a child. and in for tens of centuries men garnered their seventy-six years the reaper has reduced harvests by hand, stooping—a score or more the time-price of harvesting wheat to ten of them in a small field—to snip, snip with minutes a bushel! hand-sickles at the stalks that should yield there you have it: the secret of the magic. them bread. behind these workers came again of two hours and fifty minutes for others, laboriously binding the grain into every bushel of wheat, and a release to other sheaves. and every bushel required in the industries of nine laborers in ten. or even gathering three hours of a man's time, a larger number, for in the far west there are then came the reaper—and to-day a harvesters that do more work in a day than everybody's magazine salt or a glass of water. there is no "penn'orth of bread” in the bill, as in falstaff's day. to-day, when the human race is growing wheat at the yearly rate of ten bushels a family, we can hardly believe that until recently the main object of all nations was to get bread; that life consisted in a search for food. yet, cut the kings and their retinues out of history and it is no exaggera- tion to say that the human race was hungry for ten thousand years. even of the black bread, burnt and dirty and coarse, there was not enough; and the few who were well fed took the food from the mouths the virginia workshop where the first mccormick of slaves. even the nations reaper was made in . that produced galileo and la- place and newton were haunted twenty laborers using the sickle's big and by the ghosts of hunger. merrie england swifter brother, the scythe. was famine-swept in , , , , translated, this means, primarily, vastly , , , , and . to have more wheat. that is a simple matter of enough to eat was to the masses of all nations mathematics, a problem too obvious to require a dream-a millennium of prosperity. statement. it means for america the de- this long age of hunger outlived the velopment of the magnificent grain-lands of great nations of antiquity. why? because the west, where three states—minnesota and they went at the problem of progress in the the dakotas—to-day produce enough wheat wrong way. to feed all the people of england. it means if marcus aurelius had invented the the new farmer and the wonders of scien- reaper, or if the gracchi had been inventors tific agriculture. it means great cities, with instead of politicians, the story of rome gigantic mills, and manufacto- ries that create new wealth at the rate of sixteen billions a year. it means american pros- perity. and, above all, the reaper has not only made the ameri- can nation the best fed in the world, but it has moved all the civilized peoples up out of the bread-line, and raised the whole struggle for existence to a higher plane. life is still a race-al- ways will be; but the prizes now are gold watches and steam- yachts and automobiles, not merely bread. even the hobo at the back door scorns bread, unless we accompany it with meat and jam. in our hotels it is thrown in free of charge, as though it were a pinch of in the new wheat-fields of argentina. the romance of the reaper would have had a happier ending. but rome said—the first thing is empire. egypt said —the first thing is fame. greece said–the first thing is genius. not one of them said —the first thing is bread. a stolid drudge—“brother to the ox.” even the masterful old pilgrim fathers had no plows at all-nothing but hoes and sharp sticks, for the first twelve years of their pioneering gathering in the hay harvest at the foot of the himalayas. why this was so, why agriculture, the first industry to be learned, and so obviously (from this side of the reaper) the most fundamental, was the last to be developed, is one of the most baffling mysteries of history. one marvels at it afresh as one stands before a certain glass case in the egyptian quarter of the british museum, wherein is a little group of farm utensils—a fractured wooden plow, a rusted sickle, two sticks tied together with a leathern thong, and several tassels that had hung on the horns of oxen. to be sure, these implements were used three thousand years ago—they were found in the tomb of seti i.— but one remembers that when egypt was using these bread-tools, no better than those of the barbarians about her, she had a most elaborate government, an army and navy, and art and literature. the records and relics of other nations, down through history, show the same strange incongruity. for thousands of years the wise men of the world absolutely ignored the problems of the farm. a farmer re- mained either a serf or a tenant. he was and therefore for thousands of years there was hunger. hunger, moreover, not only in far-off ages and countries, not only in the england of , but in america, within the memory of men and women now living. in there were wheat bounties in maine and bread- riots in new york city. flour-mills were closed for lack of wheat. starving men fell in the streets of boston and philadelphia. mobs of laborers, maddened by the fear of famine, broke into warehouses and carried away sacks of food. even in the middle west —the prairie paradise of farmers—many a family fought against death with the seri's weapon of black bread. but, six years earlier, the click of the first reaper, on a backwoods farm in virginia, had sounded a menace to famine and a promise of future plenty-a promise of the year , when we eighty-five millions of people should eat twelve thousand million loaves of bread — seven bushels of wheat apiece, and should yet send a thousand mil- lion dollars' worth of food to other nations. everybody's magazine at that time, , the american people champagne. chicago was a twelve-family were free, but they held in their hands the village. there was no west nor middle west. land-tools of slaves. they had to labor and not one grain of wheat had been grown in sweat in the fields, with the crude implements minnesota, the dakotas, nebraska, colorado, that had been produced by ages of slavery. kansas, washington, nevada, idaho, mon- for two generations the sick.es, flails, and tana, new mexico, oregon, utah, arizona, wooden plows, with which they had tried to wyoming, oklahoma, or texas. build up a prosperous republic, had held this was the america to which came the back agricultural progress. let us try to re- reaper. like most great things, it had its construct mentally the america of those days. origin among humble people. no one man enterprise was not then a national charac- made it. it was the product of a hundred teristic. the few men who dared to suggest brains. improvements were persecuted as enemies of the exact truth about its beginnings is not society. the first iron plows were said to known and never will be. what few facts poison the soil. the first railroad was torn there were have been torn and twisted by up. the first telegraph wires were cut. the bitter feuds of the patent office. every the first sewing-machine was smashed. and letter and document that exists is contro- the first man who sold coal in philadelphia versial. so i cannot say that the story, as was chased from the state as a swindler. i give it, is exact in every detail, but only even the railway was a dangerous toy. that it is as near as i can get to the truth the telegraph was still a dream in the brain after six months of investigation. of morse. john deere had not invented his the first patent for a practical reaper was steel plow, nor howe his sewing-machine, given to obed hussey, an inventive seaman nor hoe his printing-press. there were no of nantucket, in . the second was stoves nor matches nor oil-lamps. petroleum given to cyrus h. mccormick, the son of a was peddled as a medicine at $ a bottle. virginia farmer, in . but there is iron was $ a ton. money was about as enough evidence to show that young mccor- reliable as mining stocks are to-day; and all mick had completed his reaper and given a the savings in all the banks would not now public exhibition of it in . buy the chickens in iowa. nearly a hundred people saw this exhibi- the total exports amounted to no more tion. but not one of them is now alive; and than we paid last year for diamonds and the story was told to me by their children. a modern self-binder that simultaneously cuts and binds the grain. cyrus h, mccormick, the chief pioneer of the reaper. it was in the fall of , they say, that that threatened to deprive them of the right cyrus mccormick hitched four horses to his to work—the precious right to work sixteen unwieldy machine and clattered out of the hours a day for three cents an hour. barnyard into a field of wheat near by. the field was hilly and the reaper worked horses shied and pranced at the absurd badly. it slewed and jolted along, cutting object, which was unlike anything else on the the grain very irregularly. seeing this, the face of the earth. dogs barked. small boys owner of the field—a man who was ruff by yelled. farmers, whose backs were bent and name and rough by nature-rushed up to whose fingers were scarred by the harvest mccormick and shouted -“here! this labor, gazed with contemptuous curiosity at won't do. stop your horses. your machine the queer contraption that was expected to is rattling the heads off my wheat.” cut grain without hands. “it's a humbug,” bawled one of the a little group of negro slaves had spasms laborers. “give me the old cradle yet, of uncomprehending delight in one corner of boys!" exclaimed a round-shouldered farmer. the field, not one of them guessing that the negroes turned handsprings with de- “massa” mccormick's comical machine was light, and the whole jeering mob gathered cutting at the chains that bound their chil- around the discredited machine. dren. and a noisy crowd of white laborers just then a fine-looking man rode up followed the reaper up and down the field with on horseback. the crowd made way as he boisterous enmity; for here was an invention came near, for they recognized him as the the romance of the reaper reap, and which lay in rusty disgrace near the the world needed was a man who was strong barn-door. and dominating enough to force his reaper “often i have seen robert mccormick upon the unwilling laborers of the harvest standing over his machine," said one of his fields. neighbors, “ studying and thinking, drawing tenacity! · absolute indifference to defeat! down his under lip, as was his habit when he the lust for victory that makes a man un- was puzzling over anything." his friends conscious of the blows he gives or takes! ridiculed him for wasting so much time on a these were what was needed, and what gave foolish toy, until he became half ashamed to cyrus mccormick his high place among of it himself and quit his experimenting in the men of genius and power who have made the daytime. but at night he and cyrus america what she is. hammered away in the little log workshop, tenacity! it was born in him. back of like a pair of conspirators. him was the hardiest breed that was ever the romantic mystery of these midnight mixed into the american blend—the pick of labors made an indelible mark on the brain the scots who fought their way to the united of the boy. he grew up serious and self- states by way of ireland. these irish scots, contained — quite unlike the boys of the few as they were, led the way across the neighborhood, unpopular, and indifferent to alleghenies, founded pittsburgh, made a trail his unpopularity. abhorring the drudgery to texas, and put five presidents in the of the farm, he delighted in any work thatwhite house. had an idea behind it, and was always busy and tenacity was bred, as well as born, into making or mending some piece of machinery. cyrus mccormick. he went barefooted as one morning he surprised his teacher by a boy, not for lack of shoes, but to make him bringing to school a tough. “i want my twenty-inch globe of boys to know how to wood, which turned endure hardship,” on its axis as the earth said his mother. he does, and had the seas sat on a slab bench and continents out- in the little log school- lined in ink. house and learned to “that young fellow read from the book of is ahead of me,” said genesis. he sang the amazed teacher. psalms with forty at fifteen cyrus verses, on sundays, had invented a new and sat as still as a grain cradle. at graven image during twenty - one he im- the three-hour ser- proved a machine mons, for his father that his father had was a presbyterian of made to break hemp. the old covenanter and at twenty-two brand. this country boy, so it came to pass who had never seen a that cyrus mccor- college, a city, or a mick clung to his railroad, constructed reaper, as john knox the first practical clung to his bible. the american rea per. it making of reapers be- was a clumsy make- came to him more shift, as crude as a than a business. it red river ox-cart, but was a creed-a relig- it was built on the ion—an eleventh com- one of mccormick's rivals. right lines. it was mandment. by the not at all handsome nor well made nor sat time he was thirty he had become a nine- isfactory, but it was a reaper that reaped. teenth-century mahomet, ready for a world crusade. his war-cry was-great is the mccormick soon discovered, however, that reaper, and mccormick is its prophet. , it was not enough to invent a reaper. what like mahomet, he had his visions of future obed hussey, everybody's magazine glory. on one occasion, while riding on best of all, an order for eight had ccme horseback through a wilderness path, the from cincinnati. these were the first reap- dazzling thought flashed upon his mind- ers that were sold outside of virginia. they “perhaps i may make a million dollars from were seen by the more enterprising farmers this reaper.” this idea remained for years of ohio and created a sensation wherever the driving-wheel of his brain. they were used. cyrus, who was now a pow- also, like mahomet, he had a period of erful, broad-chested man of thirty-six, caught preparatory solitude. soon after the first ex- a glimpse of his opportunity and sprang to hibition of his reaper, he bought a tract of seize it. he saw that the time had come to land and farmed it alone, with two aged leave the backwoods farm-forty miles from negroes as housekeepers. here he lived for a blacksmith, sixty miles from a canal, one more than a year with no companion except hundred miles from a railway. so, with his reaper. . $ in his belt he set out on horseback for the two things of which he stood most in the west. need were money and cheaper iron. so, here he saw the prairies. to a man who after thinking over the situation in his lonely had spent his life in a hollow of the alle- cabin, he decided to build a furnace and ghenies, the west was a new world. it was make his own iron. his father and a neigh- the natural home of the reaper. the farmers bor joined him in the enterprise. they built of virginia might continue forever to harvest the furnace, made the iron, and had taken their small, hilly fields by hand; but here, the first steps toward success when the finan- in this vast land-ocean, with few laborers and cial earthquake of shook them down an infinity of acres, the reaper was as indis- into the general wreckage. the neighbor, pensable as the plow. to reap even one of who had been made a partner, signed over these new states by hand would require the his property to his mother, and threw the whole working population of the country. whole burden of the bankruptcy upon the also, in illinois, mccormick saw what mccormick family, crushing them for a time made his scotch heart turn cold within him- into an abyss of debt and poverty. he saw hogs and cattle feeding in the autumn cyrus mccormick gave up everything he wheat-fields, which could not be reaped for owned to the creditors-everything except his lack of laborers. five million bushels of reaper, which nobody wanted. with the wheat had grown and ripened-enough to rest of his family, he slaved for five years to empty the horn of plenty into every farmer's save the homestead from the auctioneer. home. men, women, and children toiled day once the sheriff rode up with a writ, but and night to gather in the yellow food. but was so deeply impressed with their energy the short harvest season rushed past so and uprightness that he rode away with the quickly that tons of it lay rotting under the dreaded paper still in his pocket. hoofs of cattle. up to this time cyrus had not sold one it was a puzzling problem. it was too reaper. as mahomet preached for ten years much prosperity-a new trouble for farmers. without converting any one except his own in europe, men had been plentiful and relatives, so cyrus mccormick preached the acres scarce. here, acres were plentiful and gospel of the reaper for ten years without men scarce. ripe grain—the same in all coun- success. then, in , he sold two reapers tries—will not wait. unless it is gathered for $ apiece. the next year seven daring quickly, in from four to ten days, it breaks farmers came to the mccormick homestead, down and decays. so, even to the dullest each with $ in his hands. minds, it was clear that there must be found this brilliant success brought the whole some better way of snatching in the harvest. family into line behind cyrus, and the the sight of the trampled wheat goaded farm was transformed into a reaper factory. mccormick almost into a frenzy of activity. twenty-nine machines, “fearfully and won- he rode on horseback through illinois, wis- derfully made,” were sold in , and fifty consin, missouri, ohio, and new york, pro- in . there were troubles, of course. claiming his harvest gospel and looking for some buyers failed to pay. a workman who manufacturers who would build his reapers. was sent out on horseback to collect $ , from shop to shop he went with the zeal ran away with horse, money, and all. but of a savonarola. none of these things moved cyrus. at last, one morning, in the little town of brock- after thirteen years, he was selling reapers. port, new york, he found the first practical binor let everybody's magazine clouds, and mccormick found his path and cramming the barns with , , flooded with sunshine. he was no longer a bushels of grain. wanderer in the night. he was the reaper n o history of the reaper can be complete king—the founder of a new dynasty. as without a reference to mrs. mccormick, soon as possible he bought out ogden and formerly miss nettie fowler, of new york. established a one-man business. by he she has been for fifty years, and is to-day, was making a thousand reapers a year, and one of the active factors in our industrial de- owned one-tenth of the million dollars he had velopment. her exact memory and keen dreamed of in the virginian wilderness. his grasp of the complex details of her husband's pioneer troubles were over. there were no business made her practically an unofficial more thousand mile rides on horseback, no manager. she suggested economies at the more conflicts with jeering crowds, no more factory, stopped the custom of closing the reapers smashed by farm laborers. the re- plant in midsummer, and on several occasions peal of the corn laws in england had opened superintended the field-trials in europe. up a new market for our wheat; and the dis- covery of gold in california was booming the mrs. mccormick and the big engine reaper business by making money plentiful and labor scarce. chicago may not know it, but it is true that suddenly mccormick looked up from his the immense mccormick factory there owes work in the factory, and saw that he was its existence to mrs. mccormick. after the not only rich, but famous. one of his reap- big fire of , when his $ , , plant ers had taken the grand prize at a world's was in ruins, mccormick thought of retiring. fair in england. even the london times, he still had a fortune of three or four millions which at first had ridiculed his reaper as “a and he was sixty-two years of age. his cross between an astley chariot, a wheel- managers advised him not to rebuild, because barrow, and a flying-machine," was obliged of the excessive cost of new machinery. to admit, several days later, that “the mccor- as soon as the fiery cyclone had passed, he mick reaper is worth the whole cost of the and his wife drove to the wrecked factory. exposition.” several hundred of the workmen gathered seventeen years later, on the imperial farm about the carriage, and the chief engineer, near paris, napoleon iii descended from acting as spokesman, said: “well, mr. his carriage and fastened the cross of the mccormick, shall we start the small engine legion of honor upon mccormick's coat. and make repairs, or shall we start the big there was a picture that some american- engine and make machines?” souled artist, when we have one, will delight mr. mccormick turned to his wife and to put on canvas. how splendid was the said: “which shall it be?” it was a breath- contrast, and how significant of the new less moment for the workmen. age of democracy, between the suave and “build again at once," said mrs. mccor- feeble emperor, enjoying the sunset rays of mick. “i do not want our boy to grow up in his inherited glory, and the strong-faced, idleness, i want him to work, as a useful rough-handed virginian farmer, who had citizen, and a true american.” built up a new empire of commerce that will “start the big engine," said mccor- last as long as the human race shall eat bread! mick. the men threw their hats in the air and cheered. they sprang at the smoking débris, and began to rebuild before the cinders a dream realized were cold. from first to last, the stout-hearted reaper s uch was the second birth of the vast king received no favors from congress or the factory, which, in its sixty years, has created patent office. he built up his stupendous fully , , harvesters, and is now so business without a land grant or u protective magically automatic that, with , work- tariff. by the time that his chicago factory men, it can make one-third of all the grain- was ten years old, he had sold , reapers, gathering machinery of the world. and cleared a profit of nearly $ , , . practically nothing has been written about the dream of his youth had been realized, mr. mccormick from the human nature and more. all told, in , there were . side. he was one of those cromwellian men reapers in the united states, doing the work who can be appreciated only at a distance. of , men, saving $ , , in wages, he was too absorbed in his work to be the romance of the reaper genial and too aggressive to be popular. but bed against his doctor's orders, that he might most of the really great men of his day were pay tribute to his former antagonist. his friends – horace greeley, for instance, “mccormick's first reapers were a failure,” and peter cooper, junius morgan, abram said he, speaking slowly and with great s. hewitt, cyrus w. field, and ferdinand de difficulty; "and he owed his preeminence lesseps. among the men of his own trade, mainly to his great business ability. his however, he stood hostile and alone. enemies have said that he was not an inven- “mccormick wants to keep the whole tor, but i say that he was an inventor of reaper business to himself. he will not live eminence.” and let live," said his competitors. and they mccormick's mission had reason to say so. he did want to dominate. he wanted to make all the so, as in the gray haze of years we trace harvesting machines that were made-not one the larger outlines of his work, we can see less. he was not at all a modern “com- that mccormick was especially fitted for munity-of-interest” financier. he was a a task that, up to his day, had never been man of an outgrown school-a consistent done, and that will never need to be re- individualist, not only in business, but in peated during the lifetime of our earth. his politics and religion as well. there was no business was his life. on one occasion, when compartment in his brain for mergers and a friend was joking him about his poor judg- combines, for theories of government own- ment in affairs outside of his business, he ership, for higher criticism and the new whirled around in his chair and said emphat- theology. he was a benjamin franklin ically—“i have one purpose in life, and only commercialist, a thomas jefferson democrat, one-the success and widespread use of my and a john knox presbyterian. machines. all other matters are to me too he had worked harder to establish the insignificant to be considered.” reaper business than any other man. he he made money-ten millions or more. was making reapers when william deering, but a hundred millions would not have who was to be his chief competitor, was bribed him to forsake his reaper. it was as five years old, and before ralph emerson much a part of him as his right hand. in and william whiteley were born. he had several of his business letters he writes as graduated into success through a fifteen- though he had been a hebrew prophet, year course in failure. the world into which charged with a world message of salvation. he was born was as hostile to him as the “but for the fact that providence has kentucky wilderness was to daniel boone, seemed to assist me in all our business," he or the atlantic ocean to columbus. he was writes on one critical occasion, “it has at hard-fibered, because he had to be. he was times seemed that i would almost sink under the thin end of the wedge that split into the weight of responsibility hanging upon fragments the agricultural obstacle to social me. i believe the lord will help us out.” progress. not that he left to providence any detail to which he could personally attend. he was a “a bulldog ” puritan of the “trust-in-god-and-keep-your- powder-dry” species. a little farther along of all the men who fought him in the in this same letter he writes—"meet hussey earlier days, there are only two now alive— in maryland and put him down." ralph emerson, of rockford, illinois, and william n. whiteley, of springfield, ohio. reaper king and nation-builder both of these men to-day generously give. the old warrior his due. the fountain-springs of his life were wholly “mccormick was the first man to make the within. he acted from a few basic, un- reaper a success in the field,” said whiteley, changeable convictions. if public opinion the battle-worn giant of ohio, where i found was with him, he was gratified; if it was him still at work. “mccormick was a against him, he thought no more of it than fighter-a bulldog, we called him; but those of the rustling of the trees in the wind. were rough days. the man who couldn't “when any one opposed his plans and fight was wiped out.” showed that they were impossible,” said one ralph emerson, now one of the most of his superintendents, "i noticed that he venerable figures in illinois, rose from a sick- never argued, he just went on working." everybody's magazine small and easy undertakings had no believe it. they shook their heads and said, interest for him whatever. it was the im- “another american story!" when they were possibility that enraged and inspired him. told that we were supporting two vast armies when the civil war was at its height, he and and yet selling other nations enough grain to horace greeley, who was very similar to him feed , , people and sending three in this respect, actually believed that they times as much wheat to england as we could stop it. they had several long con- had ever sent before. naturally, no country ferences in the fifth avenue hotel, new that clung to the sickle and flail could be con- york, and in mccormick went so far vinced of such a preposterous miracle. as to prepare a statement of principles that he fully believed would restore peace and the world's dinner-table harmony between the north and the south. such was this massive, unbendable ameri- after the war, the mighty river of wheat can. it would make many a book to tell in that flowed from the west began to turn the detail the effect of his life-work upon the wheels of , flour-mills. rich cities progress of the united states. truly, it was sprang up, like aladdin palaces, beside its a new world that had been created, for the banks-chicago, st. louis, cincinnati, mil- people alike of the farms and of the cities, waukee, minneapolis, kansas city, st. paul, in the year that the victorious old reaper omaha, des moines. all of these, and a king was carried to his grave, with a sheaf hundred lesser ones, were nourished into of wheat on his breast. prosperity by the rising current of reaper- as seward once said, it was the reaper that wheat, as it moved from the mississippi to “pushed the american frontier westward the sea. at the rate of thirty miles a year." the by we had become the champion reaper clicked ahead of the railroad, and food-producers of the world. a kansas civilization followed the wheat, from chi- farmer was raising six bushels of wheat with cago to puget sound, just as the self- as little labor as an italian spent to produce binder is leading the railroad to-day-three one. and one doughty scot, dalrymple of hundred miles in front in western canada, dakota, was cutting more wheat with and eight hundred miles in siberia. even laborers and harvesters, than , peas- so unyielding a partizan of the railroads as ants could garner by hand. marvin hughitt admitted to me that “the inevitably, the american farmer became reaper has not yet received proper recognition a financier. in he earned twenty-four for its development of the west.” per cent. he had twenty-seven hundred during the civil war the reaper was doing millions to spend. by he had begun the work of a million men in the grain-fields to buy so much store goods that the united of the north. it enabled a widow, with five states was able to write a declaration of in- sons, to send them all to the front, and yet dustrial independence. every year he has gather every sheaf into the barn. it kept the grown richer and wiser, until now he is the wolf from the door, and more-it paid our owner of a billion-acre farm, worth $ an european debts in wheat. it wiped out all acre, operated with farm machinery that cost necessity for negro labor in the wheat states, him $ , , and producing yearly , just as a cotton-picker will do, some day, in times the value of a millionaire. the south. such, in one country, is the amazing result that the reaper has helped to create. and mechanical slaves this is not all. it is fighting back famine in fifty countries. its click has become the "the reaper is to the north what the music of an international anthem. the na- slave is to the south,” said edwin m. stan- tions are feeding one another, in spite of ton in . “it releases our young men their tariffs and armies. the whole world to do battle for the union, and at the same takes dinner at one long table; the fear of time keeps up the supply of the nation's hunger is dying out of the hearts of men; bread.” and the prayer of the christian centuries is lincoln called out every third man, yet being answered—“give us this day our the crops increased. europeans could not daily bread.” in the january number mr. (asson will tell the story of the bałtle of the reaper kings. the old house beyond the hills by julia kennett illustrations by alonzo kimba there's a little story of de maupas- loose girth or a gate to be opened, as one might sant's that i always specially liked — speak to a groom. but he wasn't a groom. if and doubted, until a while ago. now i know he had been, it would have been better, they it might really have happened, and i'm glad said one could at least have had the satisfac- to be sure, for it's the nicest little tale about tion of being able to classify him. he was not two people who ran away together from the quite a farmer, either, though he bred a few “beau monde" and lived forgotten in corsica, horses somewhere and sold a hunter now and just as peasants, without any of the things that again. at this point whoever was relating they'd been used to—and they'd had about the tale would lower her voice and draw closer all there was. years and years after, some to me. “my dear, all this is not the worst of man of their own world, but of a generation it," she would murmur; "he was a particularly later, found them very old and perfectly impossible young man, marked with an un- happy, caring just as much for each other deniable bar-sinister; it was always rather try- as they had when he was a brilliant young ing to know that he was about at all. you officer with a racing stable, and she was a see, thirty years ago or thereabouts there was great lady and a beauty, regretting nothing a most hideous scandal here; we needn't rake but that they were old, and could not expect up the details of it; they were sordid enough. to be together very much longer. it was fairly well kept in hand at the time, i don't know why this idea should par- however, and had been nearly forgotten when ticularly have appealed to me. i couldn't do all this brought it up again. there is not the what that woman did; i should know better shadow of a doubt that the young man—they than to try. but perhaps my just under- never mentioned him by any name, perhaps standing it a little was why i was allowed because he hadn't a real one—is the son of to see something that has been good to re- the man who was of the most importance in member ever since. this part of the world in those days. he is dead now, and the boy was provided for in the when i married bob and came to the hill- will in a small way; this is known absolutely. river country, i found the last echoes of a taken all together, could one imagine a more romantic tale—not a scandal exactly, and not thoroughly unpleasant situation?" so very romantic either, as it was told to me- i was obliged to admit that i could not. dying out among the local gossip. it seemed naturally, the place had rocked upon its that a girl who had spent the autumn hunting foundations when the thing first became with the hewitts (they had left hillriver before known. the hewitts, feeling responsible, i came) had married and run away with a had nearly gone out of their minds, all the young man whom hillriver pronounced im- more that miss maitland had no people of possible. no one had supposed that she even her own, except a terribly austere and high- knew him to speak to, unless, perhaps, about a born aunt who expected to marry her bril- everybody's magazine liantly. the girl was a beauty-one in a person had pulled out and gone home, we thousand, it appears; the equivalent of a coro- suddenly found, and the pack split. i clung net or several millions at the lowest. i never to hale, the huntsman, and his band of heard what the aunt did; nothing, probably hounds; and we were almost immediately con- miss maitland was of age and unhampered, fronted by a horribly sheer gully-a veritable having no money of her own and so no chasm. hale went into it, and as for the trustees. and besides, she and her husband others, whether they slipped down or went on had utterly vanished; no one seemed to know purpose i'm not sure, but at any rate we saw what had become of them. i fancied, that the them no more that day. “we” meant world at large and one intensely aristocratic donovan — the whip — and i. we went family in particular were not ill pleased to round the gully, and thinking we heard the have it so. all this happened about two hounds just ahead, sped toward the sound- years before the november day when the at least donovan sped. i suppose bob has hounds met at a place called wilderness his reasons for appreciating monitor; cer- and rightly named it was !-miles beyond our tainly he's a fine type of heavyweight to look regular country. at, very painstaking, and he can jump-in his bob was away, and all my own horses own fashion-but he gives one the sensation being laid up with various small mishaps, i that i imagine trying to cross country on a sent one of his on overnight with a groom. traction engine might. while he was solemn- i heard later that the horse spent the night in ly dragging his great feet out of the sticky a cowshed, and i observed for myself that the plow and heaving himself ponderously over man had spent it in the local bar. by start- little stone walls about two feet high, donovan ing at dawn, i got to the meet partly by on his weedy little thoroughbred disappeared. driving and partly by a loathsome little train, then i distinctly heard hounds in a bit of as did every one who was rash enough to wood to the right. monitor and i got there try the experiment. the less said of that in time, but the hounds were no longer either day's hunting the better. the country was in sight or in hearing. we lumbered out over impossible to ride-steep gullies in every a broken-down fence with a ditch on the far direction, which you had to follow to the end side, well masked by briars, into which moni- once you were in them-and sometimes there tor blundered badly, and then i found my- wasn't any end. the native who was sup- self on one of the streaks of bottomless mud posed to be our guide, mounted on a woolly that represent roads in those parts. not a white horse whose legitimate occupation was soul was in sight, so i turned in what seemed betrayed by glaring collar and trace marks, the general direction of home and set out was a poor witless creature who constantly for it. kept getting lost. we wandered drearily with some effort i roused monitor to his about for hours and lost a lot of hounds. unspeakable trot, which sent clods of mud and sometimes we went through groves of huge showers of yellow water all over me, only to old pines and up little streams where the find that he was lame. the scramble in the horses climbed staircases of slaty blue rock- ditch had done it, of course. as we went on, i was afraid finally to hang over monitor's he grew lamer, on purpose probably, though shoulder any more to scan his stout gray legs one might have supposed he'd have wanted for cuts; i was only too likely to find them- his evening meal. i wanted mine. sometimes we burst through primeval under- i hadn't the slightest idea where we were, growth and came out on high places, where we nor how far from any village. the sun had saw divinely lovely lines of violet-blue hills gone down and there was only a long strip of stretching away against the pale autumn sky. cold greenish sky under the heavy clouds in at other times we plowed through fields, the west, which threw a steely reflection on up to the horses' hocks in the holding clay of the water in the yawning wheel-ruts; presently the little valleys; we'd had a lot of rain it would be pitch-dark. that year. but there seemed to be no such far down the road was something that thing as a fox anywhere. whoever had looked like a barn, and back from it there lured the master into bringing his hounds to seemed to be a house with trees almost hiding that forsaken country was an admirable judge it. obviously, ihe thing to do was to get of scenery, but a grim humorist on the subject there as soon as possible; but by the time that of hunting. we had plodded through the sucking, slippery late in the afternoon, when every sane clay to it, the darkness had pretty well come. the old house beyond the hills monitor turned in willingly at the gate. need." i was terrified at the idea of some there was a gleam of light under the great ancient and probably irritable dame, out- double doors of the barn, and as if he had raged at having a strange and muddy woman heard me, a man came out with a lantern, a thrust upon her by the reckless hospitality collie rushing past him in a frenzy of barking of the master of the house. at the big horse. the man quieted it with he unbuckled the girths and took the a stern word, and i waited for him to recover saddle off monitor, felt his clipped coat, and from his astonishment as monitor and i threw a heavy rug over him. stood before him, flooded in the light of his “he's dry,” he said, "all but the mud, lantern. we were far beyond the zone of where is he lame?" farmers who are used to the sight of lost “behind," i answered; "it's a strain, i hunting people. before i could speak, he think.” said, “you have been hunting and lost the “we'll let it alone for the present,” he said, hounds? let me—” but i interrupted to watering the horse and turning him into a box, ask how far i was from wilderness. eleven where he instantly began tearing down the miles, he said. and the nearest village? hay in the rack. he had no disquieting whitechurch; and it was only a church and a delicacy. my host bolted the door and post office and a cottage or two. i explained picked up his lantern. that my horse was lame-could he let me have “i'll give him his grain presently," he said; a horse and trap of some sort ? it would have “you must let me take you to the house now.'' been a dreadful thing to ask, considering those i noticed that he had put my saddle down roads, even if i had offered to give him the right end up. he hadn't a farmer's way with value of the conveyance afterward. and horses, either. could he have been in a good somehow i couldn't say anything of the kind stable at some time or other, i wondered. to this man, though he looked like the ordi- but he certainly hadn't addressed me as nary small farmer. "madam.” on the way up to the house i instead of answering, he took monitor by told him who i was and where i lived. there the bridle and led him into the barn; then, was a pause. “my name is whitby," he said coming round to the near side, he unfastened in a curiously colorless voice. the name the straps from my boot-heel and slipped my conveyed absolutely nothing to me, but i saw foot from the stirrup. that i was expected to recognize it. “let me take you down,” he said simply; “i'm very bad at remembering names,” i "you won't think me disobliging, but i am said; "you know my husband, perhaps?” alone here—the only man, i mean—and there “yes,” said he, "i've met mr. forcyth.” are reasons—i can't leave the farm to-night. that was all. besides, you couldn't get to wilderness for we were at his doorstep by now. it hours over these roads, and there's no fit was a very old house, white and square. all place for you to stay if you did. and you i could really see was an exquisite fan- couldn't reach hillriver to-night in any case.” shaped transom above the door, and long he seemed to know everything, and i meekly strips of leaded glass at the sides, with light let him break my descent from monitor's streaming through them. mighty back, having long since learned not to “you must be tired and hungry," he said, oppose fate, whose representative this un- as he opened the door. known man appeared to be. the hall was bare, and a flight of stairs "i am sure we can make you comfortable with a graceful curving hand-rail of dark here,” he went on;“at least it's much the best polished wood went up at the far end. you thing for you to do. we should be only too know the instant impression the atmosphere glad,” he added quickly. he seemed hesitat- of a house makes as you come into it? in ing and hospitable, both at once. naturally, this one the air was very fresh and pure, i protested, but it was quite idle-i couldn't a little cold, with a faint scent of wood-smoke; sit in the mud all night, and there was nothing short of real violets--not hothouse ones- to do but accept what was offered me. i nothing is better. and i knew what the could only thank this firm and kindly person, air of most farmhouses is like. while i felt most keenly the awkwardness of a from above there came a little sound-a self-invited guest, as one may well imagine. sound that no one misiakes who has once “my aunt is with me,” continued my host; heard it. i'm not a creature of sentiment; "she will be able to give you whatever you but what woman who has ever had a child mize it. the old house beyond the hills does not give a little start at the cry of a glad if you would go up to see her, mrs. quite new baby? my robin was then eight forcyth, after you've had your tea.” months old. i suppose i must have been burning with i turned quickly to my host. “yes," he unconscious curiosity, since the suggestion said, “a little daughter-iwo days old.” pleased me so much, but i felt bound to say, “oh,” i said, "you should have told me. “surely it will disturb her to see a stranger; i must be a dreadful trouble-just now.” had i better not stay away?” “it was time enough to tell you when you “please go," he said, “if you are not too got to the house,” he said. “my dear lady, tired. she asked me to bring you.” he went could i let you spend the night on the road?” before me up the stairs and knocked at a door by this time he had brought me into a very softly. some one answered, and he pushed beautifully proportioned old room, with very the door open and stood aside to let me pass, little in it but a heap of rose-red coals in a not going in himself. i can't tell what made fluff of white ashes on the wide hearth. i me feel the reverent tender way of it so keenly suppose i should have uttered more useless -it was nothing, and it was exquisite. the protests and apologies, but he was gone. room was dimly lighted by a low, smoldering i sat down before the fire, realizing that i fire and a candle in an old bell-glass on a little was very tired. every muscle in my body table. clamored with aching memories of monitor's “thank you for coming; it's good of you,” hideous trot and too conscientious methods of said a low-pitched voice from the pillows of jumping; and i had had but one small sand- the great bed. my hostess turned her head, wich since seven o'clock that morning. and in the soft candle-glow i saw her face. i looked about me. the few pieces of old it made me catch my breath. we all furniture were admirable. then a book on dream loveliness, i suppose, but so seldom the table caught my eye. in spite of my see it, that when we do it is with a kind of stiffness i had it in my hand in a moment. keen shock. i could not believe that any one was i dreaming? it was bédier's tristan was as she seemed to me, all white and golden; et iseut. i certainly was dreaming, for a her face was like a pearl. you hear that said motherly old person with her hair screwed of surfaces as opaque as cream. but her face into a button above her benevolent face, and a —the light seemed actually to shine through it; figure flowing away into vastnesses happily or had it a soft light of its own? her hair was undefined in her gray print gown, came a pale gravish gold, like some rare metal that bustling in, full of homely hospitality. she might be gold and silver together. but it let me know at once that she was totally deaf. wasn't merely her perfect tinting nor the but evidently her nephew had made her lovely lines of her that made me feel as if a understand the situation very clearly, for she hand had suddenly taken tight hold of my led me away to where were poached eggs and heart and squeezed it; it was the look tea and toast-the best i ever tasted. while she gave, first at me, and then downward i was having tea, though it couldn't have been where a tiny red crumpled face and a downy far from my normal dinner-hour, my host little head showed close against her shoulder, came back. he was full of kindly interest in all swathed about in flannel. the little face my appetite and told me that monitor's was seemed crimson as she touched it with her even better. i was consumed with com- white hand. punction for all the trouble i was giving, and “my daughter would apologize to you if she said so. could, for the poor welcome we give you, i could see him distinctly now, as he sat since it's her fault,” she said, looking up at across the table from me: a thin, lightly made me again through her eyelashes, which were man of about thirty, with a sharply cut, ir- of an incredible length. regular face, all evenly colored the faint clear she motioned to a low chair beside the bed. red that fair skins turn with outdoor life. “will you sit there?” she said. “you must his hair was reddish, too, and he was not in be so tired, you and the big horse.” evident- the least good-looking, intrinsically, but quite ly she knew all about us. “tell me about apart from his hospitality-and no grand your adventures.” i thought she spoke as seigneur's, given the circumstances, could a very great lady, some wonderfully gracious have been greater-i liked him to a quite un- princess. might. reasonable extent. “there were no adventures," i answered; presently he said: “my wife would be very “only a very bad day's hunting, and i was * escritory's viazazise *, *** - " mt b is an . ., . .t k - e " the ...: e.- . - % . pp , i., fa'e. i rare er ***, ;';' ,'* *. v. err.ba i .k ; . . Á me; serta %" he a . te aza...- der wif, ra':.*?! , at me- gentie. *. . "yes " tener! ." :s , , v aririino (ne sike it. reitner a sinqe feron nor ite *rd at larze. v * ha, marind that comioratie od word. olem , withdraw, as quickly as f* , buiting the door very softly and carofilis behind one-- if one had distured ar, ciderly irritable person." then i knew this was elizałyeth jaitland. "a few vers courteous people may do that." i maid. “but mort of the others sit down before the world to sold it for being stupid and irritable.” "they're unjust then,” she said. “how should it understand anything but its own plans and arrangements? it's a kindly old pen really, it fully intends that there shall b plenty of happy women who have found l'umi in the appointed places. but iſ some one woman finds him where the world did not expect her to, it's naturally surprised and annoyed; and since it is only regretfully that we annoy re-pected old persons, the least we can do iting not to be put out with them for bring annoved." i thought that iſ the world, even the austere old dowager that we pictured it, could have ween her on the serene jovely good-humor of her, for all its dislike of inconvenience it must have understood a little, as i did. i could only be as simple as she was. “yes, i've heard something of you-natu- rally," i said, “but perhaps i understand bet- ter than the others, just seeing you here—you two). may i have her to hold a little?" i asked, stretching out my hands for the baby. she let me take her, very carefully, and i sat and held the delicious soft bundle, which uttered wonderfully grown-up tiny sighs and sniffs, and blinked at the candle rays until i pulled a fold of mannel between the little face and the light. the flannel smelled of iris, and the little head, when i laid my cheek against it, was like heavenly warm velvet. the baby's mother lay sull, watching us; i don't think she knew how tender hereves were. quite sudden- ly she said: “it will be red, don't you think?" there was anxiety in her voice, as though all oi aiseeece s ta i . e m . *** ce - ter** wes el "it wiele szed cirocre taa t ceece." ce sa: "bas i : "ee- ír me tu a-s; # jarin mas there. v taas tat icere .** te voke her busbard - pare, we beard t sies in the -a ze : e. he v think ian with you too long," i said, getting uşard lazing the baby beside her. "no," he said, taking my hard and locis irg up at me. i never imagined such ever- the grar of a summer rair-cloud. "it's been good to see you; you seem like a messenger, a very kindly, understanding messenger from that old word we spoke of. oi course the world did not mean to send one, and has forgotten me, so i send no message in return. if i were to send one, it would only be that i am happy-without anything it can give. but that would not be a polite message to an old queen, would it? marin!"-she raised her voice a litile. he came in and stood beside the bed's head, looking down at her. as his wife's face turned to him with the light on her clear throat and cheek and the upward sweep of her shining hair, i saw a little quiver about his mouth and chin, but that was all. she said: “do you think we could make our guest believe how glad we are of her coming, if we told her both together, martin?" he put out his hand and just touched hers. “mrs. forcyth will believe anything you say, dear, i think,” he said, smiling at me. i liked hearing him say it, and i knew that i was seeing a beautiful thing- just seeing with- out really understanding. i was still thinking of it when i was alone in the bare white room ther gave me. and that good old aunt! she had brought me a great blue jug of really hot water, and while the dressing-table was spread with a coarse cloth embroidered in red cotton with an art- less design of kittens, there was a brush of tortoise-shell with a little gold e. m. on the back, laid out upon it, with other neces- sities. folded on my pillow was a night- gown of sheerest batiste, worn to cobweb soft- ness, and i saw that the fine lace of its frills was all raveled away. i don't know why a little thing like that should have touched me so. perhaps i was not quite myself, for after i had put out my light i lay awake, aching with fatigue and listening to the rush of the she spoke as might a very great lady-some wonderfully gracious princess. bomen of the bible) g ang . hugo ballin judith andre castaigne ruth . . tanner everybody's magazine at that time, , the american people champagne. chicago was a twelve-family were free, but they held in their hands the village. there was no west nor middle west. land-tools of slaves. they had to labor and not one grain of wheat had been grown in sweat in the fields, with the crude implements minnesota, the dakotas, nebraska, colorado, that had been produced by ages of slavery. kansas, washington, nevada, idaho, mon- for two generations the sick es, fails, and tana, new mexico, oregon, utah, arizona, wooden plows, with which they had tried to wyoming, oklahoma, or texas. build up a prosperous republic, had held this was the america to which came the back agricultural progress. let us try to re- reaper. like most great things, it had its construct mentally the america of those days. origin among humble people. no one man enterprise was not then a national charac- made it. it was the product of a hundred teristic. the few men who dared to suggest brains. improvements were persecuted as enemies of the exact truth about its beginnings is not society. the first iron plows were said to known and never will be. what few facts poison the soil. the first railroad was torn there were have been torn and twisted by up. the first telegraph wires were cut. the bitter feuds of the patent office. every the first sewing-machine was smashed. and letter and document that exists is contro- the first man who sold coal in philadelphia versial. so i cannot say that the story, as was chased from the state as a swindler. i give it, is exact in every detail, but only even the railway was a dangerous toy. that it is as near as i can get to the truth the telegraph was still a dream in the brain after six months of investigation. of morse. john deere had not invented his the first patent for a practical reaper was steel plow, nor howe his sewing-machine, given to obed hussey, an inventive seaman nor hoe his printing-press. there were no of nantucket, in . the second was stoves nor matches nor oil-lamps. petroleum given to cyrus h. mccormick, the son of a was peddled as a medicine at $ a bottle. virginia farmer, in . but there is iron was $ a ton. money was about as enough evidence to show that young mccor- reliable as mining stocks are to-day; and all mick had completed his reaper and given a the savings in all the banks would not now public exhibition of it in . buy the chickens in iowa. nearly a hundred people saw this exhibi- the total exports amounted to no more tion. but not one of them is now alive; and than we paid last year for diamonds and the story was told to me by their children. sc a modern self-binder that simultaneously cuts and binds the grain. everybody's magazine honorable william taylor-a conspicuous and famous, he was rudely disappointed politician of that day. the local excitement soon died out, and one "pull down the fence and cross over into old woman expressed the general feeling by my field,” he called to young mccormick. saying that young mccormick’s reaper was thi: largest of harvesters, called a header, which cuts twelve feet of grain at a time. “i'll give you a fair chance to try your ma- “a right smart curious sort of thing, but it chine." won't come to much." mccormick promptly accepted the offer, mccormick was at this time a youth of drove into taylor's field, which was not so twenty-two. like lincoln, he was born hilly, and cut the grain successfully for four in a log cabin—but in virginia. he was or five hours. this was the first grain that bred from a fighting race. his father had had ever been cut by machinery in the wrenched a living from the rocks of vir- united states. ginia for his family of seven children. his when he arrived home that evening, grandfather had fought the english in the cyrus thought that his troubles were over. revolution. his great-grandfather had been he had reaped six acres of wheat in less than an indian fighter in pennsylvania; and his half a day—as much as six men would have great-great-grandfather had battled with a done by the old-fashioned method. he flint-lock against the soldiers of james ii., had been praised as well as jeered at. “your at the siege of londonderry. reaper is a success," said his father, "and robert mccormick, the father of cyrus, it makes me proud to have a son do what i was himself fairly famous in his county as could not do." the inventor of a hemp-brake, a clover- two big men had given him approval - huller, a bellows, and a thrashing-machine. william taylor and a professor bradshaw, the one persistent ambition of his life was of the female academy in the town of lex- to invent a reaper. it is also true, and a tid- ington, virginia. the professor, who was a bit of a fact for those who believe in pre- pompous and positive individual, made a natal influences, that during the year in which solemn investigation of the reaper, and then cyrus h. mccormick was born, his father announced, in slow, loud, and emphatic tones: first began the actual construction of a reap- —“that-machine-is worth—a hundred- ing-machine. “reaper" was one of the first thousand-dollars!" words that baby cyrus learned to say, and but if cyrus mccormick hoped to wake up his favorite toy, when he grew older, was the the following morning and find himself rich wreck of his father's reaper, which wouldn't the romance of the reaper reap, and which lay in rusty disgrace near the the world needed was a man who was strong barn-door. and dominating enough to force his reaper “often i have seen robert mccormick upon the unwilling laborers of the harvest standing over his machine,” said one of his fields. neighbors, “studying and thinking, drawing tenacity! · absolute indifference to defeat! down his under lip, as was his habit when he the lust for victory that makes a man un- was puzzling over anything." his friends conscious of the blows he gives or takes! ridiculed him for wasting so much time on a these were what was needed, and what gave foolish toy, until he became half ashamed to cyrus mccormick his high place among of it himself and quit his experimenting in the men of genius and power who have made the daytime. but at night he and cyrus america what she is. hammered away in the little log workshop, tenacity! it was born in him. back of like a pair of conspirators. him was the hardiest breed that was ever the romantic mystery of these midnight mixed into the american blend--the pick of labors made an indelible mark on the brain the scots who fought their way to the united of the boy. he grew up serious and self- states by way of ireland. these irish scots, contained — quite unlike the boys of the few as they were, led the way across the neighborhood, unpopular, and indifferent to alleghenies, founded pittsburgh, made a trail his unpopularity. abhorring the drudgery to texas, and put five presidents in the of the farm, he delighted in any work that white house. had an idea behind it, and was always busy and tenacity was bred, as well as born, into making or mending some piece of machinery. cyrus mccormick. he went barefooted as one morning he surprised his teacher by a boy, not for lack of shoes, but to make him bringing to school a tough, “i want my twenty-inch globe of boys to know how to wood, which turned endure hardship,” on its axis as the earth said his mother. he does, and had the seas sat on a slab bench and continents out- in the little log school- lined in ink. house and learned to “that young fellow read from the book of is ahead of me,” said genesis. he sang the amazed teacher. psalms with forty at fifteen cyrus verses, on sundays, had invented a new and sat as still as a grain cradle. at graven image during twenty - one he im- the three-hour ser- proved a machine mons, for his father that his father had was a presbyterian of made to break hemp. the old covenanter and at twenty - two brand. this country boy, so it came to pass who had never seen a that cyrus mccor- college, a city, or a mick clung to his railroad, constructed reaper, as john knox the first practical clung to his bible. the american reaper. it making of reapers be- was a clumsy make- came to him more shift, as crude as a than a business. it red river ox-cart, but was a creed-a relig- obed hussey. it was built on the one of mccormick's rivals. ion—an eleventh com- right lines. it was mandment. by the not at all handsome nor well made nor sat time he was thirty he had become a nine- isfactory, but it was a reaper that reaped. teenth-century mahomet, ready for a world crusade. his war-cry was—great is the mccormick soon discovered, however, that reaper, and mccormick is its prophet. it was not enough to invent a reaper. what like mahomet, he had his visions of future everybody's magazine glory. on one occasion, while riding on best of all, an order for eight had come horseback through a wilderness path, the rom cincinnati. these were the first reap- dazzling thought flashed upon his mind- ers that were sold outside of virginia. ther “perhaps i may make a million dollars from were seen by the more enterprising farmers this reaper.” this idea remained for years of ohio and created a sensation wherever the driving-wheel of his brain. they were used. cyrus, who was now a pow- also, like mahomet, he had a period of erful, broad-chested man of thirty-six, caught preparatory solitude. soon after the first ex- a glimpse of his opportunity and sprang to hibition of his reaper, he bought a tract of seize it. he saw that the time had come to land and farmed it alone, with two aged leave the backwoods farm-forty miles from negroes as housekeepers. here he lived for a blacksmith, sixty miles from a canal, one more than a year with no companion except hundred miles from a railwar. so, with his reaper. s in his belt he set out on horseback for the two things of which he stood most in the west. need were money and cheaper iron. so, here he saw the prairies. to a man who after thinking over the situation in his lonely had spent his life in a hollow of the alle- cabin, he decided to build a furnace and ghenies, the west was a new world. it was make his own iron. his father and a neigh- the natural home of the reaper. the farmers bor joined him in the enterprise. they built of virginia might continue forever to harvest the furnace, made the iron, and had taken their small, hilly fields by hand; but here, the first steps toward success when the finan- in this vast land-ocean, with few laborers and cial earthquake of shook them down an infinity of acres, the reaper was as indis- into the general wreckage. the neighbor, pensable as the plow. to reap even one of who had been made a partner, signed over these new states by hand would require the his property to his mother, and threw the whole working population of the country. whole burden of the bankruptcy upon the also, in illinois, mccormick saw what mccormick family, crushing them for a time made his scotch heart turn cold within him- into an abyss of debt and poverty. he saw hogs and cattle feeding in the autumn cyrus mccormick gave up everything he wheat-fields, which could not be reaped for owned to the creditors-everything except his lack of laborers. five million bushels of reaper, which nobody wanted. with the wheat had grown and ripened-enough to rest of his family, he slaved for five years to empty the horn of plenty into every farmer's save the homestead from the auctioneer. home. men, women, and children toiled day once the sheriff rode up with a writ, but and night to gather in the yellow food. but was so deeply impressed with their energy the short harvest season rushed past so and uprightness that he rode away with the quickly that tons of it lay rotting under the dreaded paper still in his pocket. hoofs of cattle. up to this time cyrus had not sold one it was a puzzling problem. it was too reaper. as mahomet preached for ten years much prosperity-a new trouble for farmers. without converting any one except his own in europe, men had been plentiful and relatives, so cyrus mccormick preached the acres scarce. here, acres were plentiful and gospel of the reaper for ten years without men scarce. ripe grain--the same in all coun- success. then, in , he sold two reapers tries—will not wait. unless it is gathered for $ apiece. the next year seven daring quickly, in from four to ten days, it breaks farmers came to the mccormick homestead, down and decays. so, even to the dullest each with $ in his hands. minds, it was clear that there must be found this brilliant success brought the whole some better way of snatching in the harvest. family into line behind cyrus, and the the sight of the trampled wheat goaded farm was transformed into a reaper factory. mccormick almost into a frenzy of activity. twenty-nine machines, “fearfully and won. he rode on horseback through illinois, wis- derfully made," were sold in , and fifty consin, vissouri, ohio, and new york, pro- in . there were troubles, of course. claiming his harvest gospel and looking for some buyers failed to pay. a workman who manufacturers who would build his reapers. was sent out on horseback to collect $ , from shop to shop he went with the real ran away with horse, money, and all. but of a savonarola. none of these things moved cyrus. at last, one morning, in the little town of brock- after thirteen years, he was selling reapers. port, new york, he found the first practical the romance of the reaper men who appreciated his invention-dayton s. morgan and william h. seymour. morgan was a handy young machinist who had formed a partnership with seymour, a prosperous storekeeper. they listened to mccormick with great interest and agreed to make a hundred reapers. by this decision they both later became millionaires, and also entered history as the founders of the first reaper factory in the world. altogether, in the two years after he left virginia, mccormick sold reapers. this was big business; but it was only a morsel in proportion to his appetite. neither was it satisfactory. he found himself tangled in a snarl of troubles because of bad iron, stupid workmen, and unreliable manufacturers. he cut the gordian knot by building a factory of his own at chicago. lakes-a central market where wheat was traded for lumber and furs for iron. it had no history-no ancient families clogging up the streets with their special privileges. and, best of all, it was a place where a big new idea was actually preferred to a small old one. chicago did not look at mccormick with dead eyes and demand a certified check from his ancestors. it sized him up in a few swift glances and saw a thick-set, ruddy man, with the physique of a heavy-weight wrestler, black hair that waved in glossy furrows, and strong eyes that struck you like a blow. it glanced at his reaper and saw a device that would give the country more wheat. more wheat meant more business, so chicago said: “glad to see you. you're the right man and you're in the right place. come in and get busy.” william b. ogden, the first the earliest type of self-rake reaper. this was one of the wisest decisions of his life, though at the time it appeared to be a disastrous mistake. chicago in showed no signs of its present greatness. as a city, it was a ten-year-old experiment, built in a swamp, without a railway or a canal. it was ugly and dirty, with a river that ran in the wrong direction; but it was busy. it was the link between the mississippi and the great mayor of chicago, listened to his story for two minutes, then asked him how much he wanted for a half interest. mccormick had little money and no prestige. ogden had a surplus of both. so a partnership was ar- ranged, and the new firm leaped toward prosperity by selling $ , worth of reap- ers for the next harvest. at last there had come a break in the : eserybody's magazine - ܗܳܝ ; t : - - r ܪ-:&- : ܪ ܃ ܃ rit in *ܫܶܪܕ ii ;; ; ;£: * ever. tas iht "ao sct. te t kere starine " etizzk - i te test sor v etes ** c : : begrebeac s e cs en cui. gibt , . ten c i cec . . ue sem tu siera . tacere site de : sci jeret, eos e fs are he les : si occuoc- stk. ait : ) comi* te tcc s o ses are a surement of princeshat be a ted tere pere . ee nisinerji . . betar te sin s a mmanste, vecanje ameri- after be is, be tste jbti: (a : rake mara *** to té in a speci. i e la beg- ise deale et Á eis fe-work u be betis ::. . tonia p erselrited states. tr*, it was $itet e capazes se is a new w hat lad y created. irite artis.s. lui tee - le ate the faces and of the cities. wazie. vincas • kansas c .s.fi is de star ca: tte siciones vd reaser orada. les mise e obese, ses kisgnas carried tis grare, with a staf burcred set (be teme derived it uncat o urtasi. prosent iibe cten: tri- as a fe said, it sas the reader that wbea:, as i: cted in the v i o toppested the american írnier weiward ibe sea. al ise rate of biry ries a sear." the br we i tecome e camisa rea! cand aread of ite rais ad, and fooc-produces the së kansas ciri izatiin í ned the wheat, irrom chi- ja ter was raising si besi bezmá cage paget sud, jest as the seli- as lise i as an :a ja se:: c c e birder is leacir.g tre raiirad todas-three ore. add coe dieger su danted brdred miles in front in western car.ada, dakta, fas curing i re a i ard eight hundred mies in siberia. even latcrers ard zoc bateses . - sur leiding a parizan of the railroads as aris coc.d garder bs tard. marin hegritt admitied to me that "the irevitab, the azerican ia ser decare reaper has not yet received proper recognition a financier. in is-s be earned iweni-iour for its development of the west.” per cent. he tad trenir-gerer bundiai during the civil war the reaper was doing millions to sperd. br is he toc began the work of a million men in the grain-fields to buy so much store goods uda: the tried of the north. it er.alled a widow, wiih five s:ares was able to wriie a declarati r. gila- suns, send them all to the front, and vet dustrial ir.deper.dence. every year he has gather every sheai into the bam. it kept the grown richer and wiser, ur:il he is the woli írom the door, ard more-it paid our owner of a billon-acre iarm. werk sio an european debts in wheat. it wiped out all acre, operated with iarm machinery that cust necessity for negro labor in the wheat states, him suoc. . ard producing rear... just as a cotton-picker will do, some dav, in times the value of a millionaire the south. such, in one country, is the amazir.g result that the reaper has helped to create. and mechanical slaves this is not all. i: is fighting back famine in fiity countries. iis click has become the “the reaper is to the north what the music of an international anthem. the na- slave is to the south," said edwin w. stan- tions are feeding one another, in spite of ton in . “it releases our young men their tarifs and armies. the whole world to do battle for the union, and at the same takes dinner at one long table; the fear of time keeps up the supply of the nation's hunger is dying out of the hearts of men; bread.” and ihe prayer of the christian ceniuries is lincoln called out every third man, vet being answered—“ give us this day our the crops increased. europeans could not daily bread." in the january number mr. casson wil ie!l the story of the ba:tle of the reaper kings. everybody's magazine liantly. the girl was a beauty-one in a person had pulled out and gone home, we thousand, it appears; the equivalent of a coro- suddenly found, and the pack split. i clung net or several millions at the lowest. i never to hale, the huntsman, and his band of heard what the aunt did; nothing, probably. hounds; and we were almost immediately con- miss maitland was of age and unhampered, fronted by a horribly sheer gully-a veritable having no money of her own and so no chasm. hale went into it, and as for the trustees. and besides, she and her husband others, whether they slipped down or went on had utterly vanished; no one seemed to know purpose i'm not sure, but at any rate we saw what had become of them. i fancied, that the them no more that day. “we” meant world at large and one intensely aristocratic donovan — the whip — and i. we went family in particular were not ill pleased to round the gully, and thinking we heard the have it so. all this happened about two hounds just ahead, sped toward the sound- years before the november day when the at least donovan sped. i suppose bob has hounds met at a place called wilderness- his reasons for appreciating monitor; cer- and rightly named it was !--miles beyond our tainly he's a fine type of heavyweight to look regular country. at, very painstaking, and he can jump-in his bob was away, and all my own horses own fashion-but he gives one the sensation being laid up with various small mishaps, i that i imagine trying to cross country on a sent one of his on overnight with a groom. traction engine might. while he was solemn. i heard later that the horse spent the night in ly dragging his great feet out of the sticky a cowshed, and i observed for myself that the plow and heaving himself ponderously over man had spent it in the local bar. by start- little stone walls about two feet high, donovan ing at dawn, i got to the meet partly by on his weedy little thoroughbred disappeared. driving and partly by a loathsome little train, then i distinctly heard hounds in a bit of as did everyone who was rash enough to wood to the right. monitor and i got there try the experiment. the less said of that in time, but the hounds were no longer either day's hunting the better. the country was in sight or in hearing. we lumbered out over impossible to ride-steep gullies in every a broken-down fence with a ditch on the far direction, which you had to follow to the end side, well masked by briars, into which moni- once you were in them-and sometimes there tor blundered badly, and then i found my- wasn't any end. the native who was sup- self on one of the streaks of bottomless mud posed to be our guide, mounted on a woolly that represent roads in those parts. not a white horse whose legitimate occupation was soul was in sight, so i turned in what seemed betraved by glaring collar and trace marks, the general direction of home and set out was a poor witless creature who constantly for it. kept getting lost. we wandered drearily with some effort i roused monitor to his about for hours and lost a lot of hounds. unspeakable trot, which sent clods of mud and sometimes we went through groves of huge showers of yellow water all over me, only to old pines and up litile streams where the find that he was lame. the scramble in the horses climbed staircases of slaty blue rock- ditch had done it, of course. as we went on, i was afraid finally to hang over monitor's he grew lamer, on purpose probably, though shoulder any more to scan his stout gray legs one might have supposed he'd have wanted for cuts; i was only too likely to find them- his evening meal. i wanted mine. sometimes we burst through primeval under- i hadn'the slightest idea where we were, growth and came out on high places, where we nor how far from any village. the sun had saw divinely lovely lines of violet-blue hills gone down and there was only a long strip of stretching away against the pale autumn sky. cold greenish sky under the heavy clouds in at other times we plowed through fields, the west, which threw a steely reflection on up to the horses' hocks in the holding clay of the water in the yawning wheel-ruts, presently the little valleys; we'd had a lot of rain it would be pitch-dark. that year. but there seemed to be no such far down the road was something that thing as a fox anywhere. whoever had looked like a barn, and back from it there lured the master into bringing his hounds to seemed to be a house with trees almost hiding ihat forsaken country was an admirable judge it. obviously, the thing to do was to get of scenery, but a grim humorist on the subject there as soon as possible; but by the time that of hunting. we had plodded through the sucking, slippery late in the afternoon, when cvery sane clay to it, the darkness had pretty well come. the old house beyond the hills monitor turned in willingly at the gate. need." i was terrified at the idea of some there was a gleam of light under the great ancient and probably irritable dame, out- double doors of the barn, and as if he had raged at having a strange and muddy woman heard me, a man came out with a lantern, a thrust upon her by the reckless hospitality collie rushing past him in a frenzy of barking of the master of the house. at the big horse. the man quieted it with he unbuckled the girths and took the a stern word, and i waited for him to recover saddle off monitor, ſelt his clipped coat, and from his astonishment as monitor and i threw a heavy rug over him. stood before him, flooded in the light of his “he's dry," he said, “all but the mud. lantern. we were far beyond the zone of where is he lame?” farmers who are used to the sight of lost “behind," i answered; "it's a strain, i hunting people. before i could speak, he think.” said, “you have been hunting and lost the “we'll let it alone for the present,” he said, hounds? let me—” but i interrupted to watering the horse and turning him into a box, ask how far i was from wilderness. eleven where he instantly began tearing down the miles, he said. and the nearest village? hay in the rack. he had no disquieting whitechurch; and it was only a church and a delicacy. my host bolted the door and post office and a cottage or two. i explained picked up his lantern. that my horse was lame—could he let me have “i'll give him his grain presently,” he said; a horse and trap of some sort? it would have "you must let me take you to the house now." been a dreadful thing to ask, considering those i noticed that he had put my saddle down roads, even if i had offered to give him the right end up. he hadn't a farmer's way with value of the conveyance afterward. and horses, either. could he have been in a good somehow i couldn't say anything of the kind stable at some time or other, i wondered. to this man, though he looked like the ordi- but he certainly hadn't addressed me as nary small farmer. "madam.” on the way up to the house i instead of answering, he took monitor by told him who i was and where i lived. there the bridle and led him into the barn; then, was a pause. “my name is whitby,” he said coming round to the near side, he unfastened in a curiously colorless voice. the name the straps from my boot-heel and slipped my conveyed absolutely nothing to me, but i saw foot from the stirrup. that i was expected to recognize it. “let me take you down,” he said simply; “i'm very bad at remembering names,” i “you won't think me disobliging, but i am said; “you know my husband, perhaps?”. alone here—the only man, i mean—and there “yes," said he, “i've met mr. forcyth.” are reasons-i can't leave the farm to-night. that was all. besides, you couldn't get to wilderness for we were at his doorstep by now. it hours over these roads, and there's no fit was a very old house, white and square. all place for you to stay if you did. and you i could really see was an exquisite fan- couldn't reach hillriver to-night in any case.” shaped transom above the door, and long he seemed to know everything, and i meekly strips of leaded glass at the sides, with light let him break my descent from monitor's streaming through them. mighty back, having long since learned not to “you must be tired and hungry,” he said, oppose fate, whose representative this un- as he opened the door. known man appeared to be. the hall was bare, and a flight of stairs "i am sure we can make you comfortable with a graceful curving hand-rail of dark here,” he went on; “at least it's much the best polished wood went up at the far end. you thing for you to do. we should be only too know the instant impression the atmosphere glad,” he added quickly. he seemed hesitat- of a house makes as you come into it? in ing and hospitable, both at once. naturally, this one the air was very fresh and pure, i protested, but it was quite idle-i couldn't a little cold, with a faint scent of wood-smoke; sit in the mud all night, and there was nothing short of real violets-not hothouse ones- to do but accept what was offered me. i nothing is better. and i knew what the could only thank this firm and kindly person, air of most farmhouses is like. while i felt most keenly the awkwardness of a from above there came a little sound-a self-invited guest, as one may well imagine. sound that no one mistakes who has once “my aunt is with me," conunued my host; heard it. i'm not a creature of sentiment; “she will be able to give you whatever you but what woman who has ever had a child “my wife would be very glad if you would go up to see her, mrs. forcyth." the old house beyond the hills does not give a little start at the cry of a quite new baby? my robin was then eight months old. i turned quickly to my host. “yes,” he said, “a little daughter-two days old.” “oh,” i said, "you should have told me. i must be a dreadful trouble-just now.” “it was time enough to tell you when you got to the house,” he said. “my dear lady, could i let you spend the night on the road?” by this time he had brought me into a beautifully proportioned old room, with very little in it but a heap of rose-red coals in a fluff of white ashes on the wide hearth. i suppose i should have uttered more useless protests and apologies, but he was gone. i sat down before the fire, realizing that i was very tired. every muscle in my body clamored with aching memories of monitor's hideous trot and too conscientious methods of jumping; and i had had but one small sand- wich since seven o'clock that morning. i looked about me. the few pieces of old furniture were admirable. then a book on the table caught my eye. in spite of my stiffness i had it in my hand in a moment. was i dreaming? it was bédier's tristan et i seut. i certainly was dreaming, for a motherly old person with her hair screwed into a button above her benevolent face, and a figure flowing away into vastnesses happily undefined in her gray print gown, came bustling in, full of homely hospitality. she let me know at once that she was totally deaf. but evidently her nephew had made her understand the situation very clearly, for she led me away to where were poached eggs and tea and toast—the best i ever tasted. while i was having tea, though it couldn't have been far from my normal dinner-hour, my host came back. he was full of kindly interest in my appetite and told me that monitor's was even better. i was consumed with com- punction for all the trouble i was giving, and said so. i could see him distinctly now, as he sat across the table from me: a thin, lightly made man of about thirty, with a sharply cut, ir- regular face, all evenly colored the faint clear red that fair skins turn with outdoor life. his hair was reddish, too, and he was not in the least good-looking, intrinsically, but quite apart from his hospitality—and no grund seigneur's, given the circumstances, could have been greater-i liked him to a quite un- reasonable extent. presently he said: "my wife would be very glad if you would go up to see her, mrs. forcyth, after you've had your tea.” i suppose i must have been burning with unconscious curiosity, since the suggestion pleased me so much, but i felt bound to say, “surely it will disturb her to see a stranger; had i better not stay away?” “please go,” he said, "if you are not too tired. she asked me to bring you." he went before me up the stairs and knocked at a door very softly. some one answered, and he pushed the door open and stood aside to let me pass, not going in himself. i can't tell what made me feel the reverent tender way of it so keenly it was nothing, and it was exquisite. the room was dimly lighted by a low, smoldering fire and a candle in an old bell-glass on a little table. “thank you for coming; it's good of you," said a low-pitched voice from the pillows of the great bed. my hostess turned her head, and in the soft candle-glow i saw her face. it made me catch my breath. we all dream loveliness, i suppose, but so seldom see it, that when we do it is with a kind of keen shock. i could not believe that any one was as she seemed to me, all white and golden; her face was like a pearl. you hear that said of surfaces as opaque as cream. but her face —the light seemed actually to shine through it; or had it a soft light of its own? her hair was a pale grayish gold, like some rare metal that might be gold and silver together. but it wasn't merely her perfect tinting nor the lovely lines of her that made me feel as if a hand had suddenly taken tight hold of my heart and squeezed it; it was the look she gave, first at me, and then downward where a tiny red crumpled face and a downy little head showed close against her shoulder, all swathed about in flannel. the little face seemed crimson as she touched it with her white hand. “my daughter would apologize to you if she could, for the poor welcome we give you- since it's her fault,” she said, looking up at me again through her eyelashes, which were of an incredible length. s he motioned to a low chair beside the bed. “will you sit there?” she said. “you must be so tired, you and the big horse.” evident- ly she knew all about us. “tell me about your adventures.” i thought she spoke as a very great lady, some wonderfully gracious princess. might. “there were no adventures," i answered; "only a very bad day's hunting, and i was everybody's magazine most stupid and contrived to get us com- her happiness depended on its being so. i pletely lost-monitor and me. but for all looked at the just perceptible down. “yes,” that, we've been very lucky-in the end." i answered truthfully, “it certainly will be she smiled a little; then she said, with her red." serious gray eyes on my face, “i have never we both laughed. seen you before, of course, mrs. forcyth, but “all this while i've not asked you if you've i think you may have heard of me; perhaps had all that you needed,” she said. “but not.” she stopped and smiled again—to it was useless for me to ask; if martin was herself, rather than at me-a gentle, thought there, you had all that there was.” ful smile. “you see,” she went on, “it's dis as she spoke her husband's name, we heard agreeable to be startled; no one likes it, neither his step in the passage outside. “he will a single person nor the world at large. so think i am with you too long," i said, getting when one has startled that comfortable old up and laying the baby beside her. world, one simply withdraws as quickly as “no," she said, taking my hand and look- possible, shutting the door very softly and ing up at me. i never imagined such eyes- carefully behind one-as if one had disturbed the gray of a summer rain-cloud. “it's been an elderly irritable person.” good to see you; you seem like a messenger, a then i knew this was elizabeth maitland. very kindly, understanding messenger from "a few very courteous people may do that,” that old world we spoke of. of course the i said. “but most of the others sit down world did not mean to send one, and has before the world to scold it for being stupid forgotten me, so i send no message in return. and irritable.” if i were to send one, it would only be that i “they're unjust then,” she said. “how am happy—without anything it can give. but should it understand anything but its own that would not be a polite message to an old plans and arrangements? it's a kindly old queen, would it? martin!”—she raised her person really; it fully intends that there shall voice a little. he came in and stood beside be plenty of happy women who have found the bed's head, looking down at her. as his l'ami in the appointed places. but if some wife's face turned to him with the light on her one woman finds him where the world did not clear throat and cheek and the upward sweep expect her to, it's naturally surprised and of her shining hair, i saw a little quiver about annoyed; and since it is only regretfully that his mouth and chin, but that was all. we annoy respected old persons, the least we she said: “do you think we could make our can do is not to be put out with them for guest believe how glad we are of her coming, being annoyed.” if we told her both together, martin?". i thought that if the world, even the austere he put out his hand and just touched hers. old dowager that we pictured it, could have “mrs. forcyth will believe anything you say, seen her so—the serene lovely good-humor dear, i think,” he said, smiling at me. i of her, for all its dislike of inconvenience it liked hearing him say it, and i knew that i must have understood a little, as i did. was seeing a beautiful thing—just seeing with- i could only be as simple as she was. out really understanding. "yes, i've heard something of you-natu- i was still thinking of it when i was alone rally," i said, “but perhaps i understand bet- in the bare white room they gave me. and ter than the others, just seeing you here-you that good old aunt! she had brought me a two. may i have her to hold a little?" i asked, great blue jug of really hot water, and while stretching out my hands for the baby. she the dressing-table was spread with a coarse let me take her, very carefully, and i sat and cloth embroidered in red cotton with an art- held the delicious soft bundle, which uttered less design of kittens, there was a brush wonderfully grown-up tiny sighs and sniffs, of tortoise-shell with a little gold e. m. on and blinked at the candle rays until i pulled the back, laid out upon it, with other neces- a fold of flannel between the little face and the sities. folded on my pillow was a night- light. the flannel smelled of iris, and the gown of sheerest batiste, worn to cobweb soft- little head, when i laid my cheek against it, ness, and i saw that the fine lace of its frills was like heavenly warm velvet. the baby's was all raveled away. i don't know why a mother lay still, watching us; i don't think she little thing like that should have touched me knew how tender her eyes were. quite sudden- so. perhaps i was not quite myself, for after ly she said: “it will be red, don't you think?” i had put out my light i lay awake, aching there was anxiety in her voice, as though all with fatigue and listening to the rush of the she spoke as might a very great lady-some wonderfully gracious princess. everybody's magazine wind in the pines outside my window, and when i reached home at last, i had had i thought of all sorts of things that never so many small adventures by the way that come into my head ordinarily. there was they made a sufficiently amusing tale to cover something in the air of that old house to make up the fact that i never actually mentioned one dream. i went to sleep at last with a where i had spent the night. bob had line of old french running in my head among come back, and though my mind was still full the dreams, “nous avons perdu le monde, of the memory of elizabeth maitland's gray et le monde, nous; que vous en semble, tristan, eyes, and of all that i had seen in the old ami?” house beyond the hills, i realized that there is next morning i saw my hostess a moment more than one way of being happy. i had to say good-by. and when i found myself brought home bob's best horse useless for the saying, “will you understand that what i rest of the season, but he did not seem even thank you for most is something i am taking to be aware of it; he was only consumed with away?" she smiled in comprehension. anxiety to know if i had been warm and fed “that i am not to see you again is part of and had escaped taking cold. the price i have to pay the ‘old queen’for my elizabeth maitland was right: there are happiness,” she said; "it's the first time i've women happy in the scheme of things that the not paid gladly. but you understand?” world arranges for them, and she has given me i understood. the world was not to be a very lovely memory to add to a most solid reminded. and comfortable reality. i'm grateful for both. to fire by helen huntington fire, thou free one! thou god unspoiled, attaining swiftly, where man has toiled! thy formless glory no mind may see, nor brooding fathom thy.mystery. all foul corruptions thou makest clean, in flame they vanish to space unseen. the shames of nature, the taints of earth, by thee transfigured have airy birth. destroyer, father, creator, king, thy raging beauty a living thing; in desolation, bright wings unfurled, thy barren pathway lies round the world. o force supernal! o rose of heat! incarnate wonder, unrest complete, remote from knowledge, defying sense, ah, whither speedest? and comest—whence? more strange than jewels, more fierce than hate, consummate wonder thy flames create. o perfect passion! o great desire! i, bowed, salute thee, resistless fire! anopheres, the persian sentry outside the tent of holofernes, leaned upon his spear and watched the old moon thrust its horn above those easterly mountains where israel, penned in like a wounded lion, lay awaiting the grapple —and the end. to him came the little body- servant of the general, frightened and with twitching hands. "she is a witch, i tell you, that dark woman of israel,” he muttered. “she eats not of our food; she carries always that sack of hers that is never empty. to-night i saw her shudder as she passed before the general's gold-hilted fauchion that hung upon the wall. no witch can look straight at steel. each night at this hour she fares forth into the wilderness, to gather herbs for her spells, perhaps. hark—some one moves within the tent!” the gaudy leathern tent-door opened, the moon. light fell full on judith's face. the dark eyes that had seen deliverance for israel glowed with strange and brooding fires; the round breast below the robe that muffled head and figure heaved and fluttered and was still. and her face was the face of tragedy; high, aloof from the little cares of men, purified with the flame of martyrdom that lighted it. woman she was, and with a woman's knowledge of her beauty and its power, but man she was also, in her fierce courage; casting aside the traditions of her ser, and ready to do a man's red work of slaughter if she might so gain her ends. passionate, stormy in her loves, relentless in her hates, daring all for either love or hate, of the blood that has run in the veins of patriots since man first died for man, she stood, elemental and untamed, painted against the background of the night. a moment her face was a blase of eager triumph, of fierce joy, of a high pride in lofty achievement; then the mask fell. with full, certain stride she stepped out into the moonlight and was gone down the dark path. “did you see her eyes?" whispered the body-servant. “they are bloody eres-she is a witch. did you see the bag? it is full to-night." “ but, ah, her form is as a cedar in the king's garden," said anopheres, the sentry, “and her brows are horns of the crescent moon." and he who died next day upon the sword of israel ran his fingers through his love-locks and blew a kiss into the air, still fragrant with perfume from her passing “entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, i will go; : . . thy people shall be my people, and thy god my god.” three women stood on the hillside, in the yellow light of that ancient evening; and one was naomi, she who had carried the blood of israel beneath her heart. one, walking away in the distance, bowed with grief under her muffling robe, was orpah, returning to her own kindred in the land of judah. and one was ruth, she who had con- tinued faithful. ruth of the tender eyes and the clinging hands, with the softness that makes un. conscious claim to service and protection, yet that gives over freely of each of these; with young, pliant strength to bear the burden of another's bitterness;-the type of all womanly sweetness in gentle steadfastness and quiet courage, trained through the ages to acceptance of the woman's pas- sive part. ruth, the gleaner, patiently stooping for what careless hands have dropped, asking but to "glean and gather after the reapers among the sheaves," yet receiving all of honor and chivalry that the world may give. she looked deep into naomi's old, world-worn eyes. “the lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me." the older woman swayed with a gesture of surrender; ruth took naomi in her arms, and kissed her with the kiss of holy women. west- ward the two have turned. it is not only the road to bethlehem that they walk, but the road of those whose feet are blessed. a babe was to be born in bethlehem because one troubled woman of the people, humblest of all who walked that day in palestine, had made the good decision; had bent her head to the thorny crown of self-sacrifice, sac- rifice that receives no applause, demands no re- ward, and is content to only stand and wait. “ whither thou goest, i will go, and where thou lodgest, i will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy god my god." the shepherds, bringing their flocks homeward in the dusk, beheli two weary women trudging westward on the road to bethlehem, and looked wonderingly at the younger, she was so fair to walk unprotected. கமலாவகைவைணவ - ரை | = the chuest of quresma by booth tarkington bro author of the gentleman from indiară. the ivo van revels monsieur beauraire, ez a sllustration by mg.blumenschein se synopsis of preceding instalment.-three threads, later to be twisted together in the mys- tery of “the guest of quesnay," are spun in the first instalment. first, the american artist who tells the story, and his friend, george ward, witness the wreck, near paris, of an automobile in which are a parisian dancer and larrabee harman, an american who is notorious for a career of dissipation. harman, whose divorced wife is ward's cousin, is seriously injured. here this thread of the story is dropped. two years later the artist establishes himself at an inn in normandy, where he learns that the neighboring château de quesnay, which had been leased by the sister of george ward, is for the time in charge of her guest, a certain very charming madame d'armand. the third element is furnished by the arrival at the inn of a distinguished scientist accompanied by a younger man who is invested with an air of great singularity and deep mystery. chapter v to do the whole thing in the woods from day to day, instead of taking notes for the studio- had been painting in various parts of and was at work upon a very foolish experi- the forest, studying the early morning ment: i had thought to render the light- along the eastern fringe and moving farther broken by the branches and foliage-with in as the day advanced. for the stillness broken brush-work, a short stroke of the kind and warmth of noon i went to the very wood- that stung an elder painter to swear that its land heart, and in the late afternoon moved practitioners painted in shaking fear of the westward to a glade—a chance arena open concierge appearing for the studio rent. the to the sky, the scene of my most audacious attempt was 'alluring, but when i rose from endeavors, for here i was trying to paint my camp-stool and stepped back into the foliage luminous under those long shafts of path to get more distance for my canvas, i sunshine which grow thinner but ruddier saw what a mess i was making of it. at the toward sunset. a path closely bordered by same time, my hand, falling into the capacious underbrush wound its way to the glade, pocket of my jacket, encountered a package, crossed it, and wandered away into shady my lunch, which i had forgotten to eat; dingles again; with my easel pitched in the whereupon, becoming suddenly aware that i mouth of this path, i sat at work, one late was very hungry, i began to eat amédée's afternoon, wonderful for its still loveliness. good sandwiches without moving from where the path debouched abruptly on the glade i stood. and was so narrow that when i leaned back absorbed, gazing with abysmal disgust at my elbows were in the bushes, and it needed my canvas, i was eating absent-mindedly- care to keep my palette from being smirched and with all the restraint and dignity of a by the leaves; though there was more room georgia darky attacking a watermelon-when for my canvas and easel, as i had placed them a pleasant voice spoke from just behind me: at arm's length before me, fairly in the open. "pardon, monsieur; permit me to pass, if i had the ambition to paint a picture here- you please.” the guest of quesnay less. that was all it said, very quietly and in be ashamed to withhold the truth out of my french, but a gunshot might have startled me fear to be taken for a sentimentalist: this woman who had passed was of great and in- i turned in confusion to behold a dark-eyed stant charm; it was as if i had heard a sere- lady, charmingly dressed in lilac and white, nade there in the woods—and at thought of waiting for me to make way so that she could the jig i had danced to it my face burned pass. nay, let me leave no detail of my again. mortification unrecorded: i have just said with a sigh of no meaning, i got my eyes that i "turned in confusion "'; the truth is that down to my canvas and began to peck at it i jumped like a kangaroo, but with infinitely perfunctorily, when a snapping of twigs less grace. and in my nervous haste to clear underfoot and a swishing of branches in the her way, meaning only to push the camp-stool thicket warned me of a second intruder, not out of the path with my foot, i put too much approaching by the path, but forcing a way valor into the push, and with horror saw the toward it through the underbrush, and very camp-stool rise in the air and drop to the briskly too, judging by the sounds. ground again nearly a third of the distance he burst out into the glade a few paces across the glade. l'pon that i squeezed from me, a tall man in white flannels, liberally myself back into the bushes, my ears singing decorated with brambles and clinging shreds and my cheeks burning. of underbrush. a streamer of vine had there are women who will meet or pass a caught about his shoulders; there were leaves strange man in the woods or fields with as on his bare head, and this, together with the finished an air of being unaware of him (par- youthful sprightliness of his light figure and ticularly if he be a rather shabby painter no the naive activity of his approach, gave me a longer young) as if the encounter took place very faunlike first impression of him. on a city sidewalk; but this woman was not at sight of me he stopped short. of that priggish kind. her straightforward "have you seen a lady in a white and lilac glance recognized my existence as a fellow dress and with roses in her hat?” he de- being; and she further acknowledged it by a manded, omitting all preface and speaking faint smile, which was of courtesy only, how with a quick eagerness which caused me no ever, and admitted no reference to the fact wonder-for i had seen the lady. that at the first sound of her voice i had leaped what did surprise me, however, was the in- into the air, kicked a camp-stool twenty stantaneous certainty with which i recog- feet, and now stood blushing, so shamefully nized the speaker from amédée's description, stuffed with sandwich that i dared not speak. a certainty founded on that item which had so “thank you,” she said as she went by; dangerously strained the old fellow's powers. and made me a little bow so graceful that it this sudden gentleman was strikingly good- almost consoled me for my caperings. looking, his complexion so clear and boyishly i stood looking after her as she crossed the healthy, that, except for his gray hair, he clearing and entered the cool winding of the might have passed for twenty-two or twenty- path on the other side. i stared and wished three, and even as it was i guessed his years —wished that i could have painted her into five short of thirty; but there are plenty of my picture, with the thin, ruddy sunshine handsome young fellows with prematurely flecking her dress; wished that i had not cut gray hair, and, as amédée said, though out of such an idiotic figure. i stared until her the world we were near it. it was the new- filmy summer hat, which was the last bit of comer's “singular air” which established his her to disappear, had vanished. then, dis- identity. amédée's vagueness had irked me, covering that i still held the horrid remains but the thing itself—the “singular air”-was of a sausage-sandwich in my hand, i threw it not at all vague. instantly perceptible, it into the underbrush with unnecessary force, was an investiture; marked, definite-and in- and, recovering my camp-stool, sat down to tangible. my interrogator was “that other work again. monsieur.” i did not immediately begin. the passing in response to his question i asked him of a pretty woman anywhere never comes to another: “were the roses real or artificial?” be quite of no moment to a man, and the pass- “i don't know," he answered, with what i ing of a pretty woman in the greenwood is an took to be a whimsical assumption of gravity. episode-even to a middle-aged landscape “it wouldn't matter, would it? have you painter. “an episode?” quoth i. i should seen her?” the guest of quesnay he stooped to brush the brambles from his a white hat and i thought it might be the trousers, sending me a sidelong glance from same. she wore a dress like that and a his blue eyes, which were brightly confident white hat with roses when she drove by the and inquiring, like a boy's. at the same time inn. i am very anxious to see her again.” it struck me that whatever the nature of the “you seem to be!" i murmured, quite singularity investing him (and now that i was dumfounded. in the presence of it i found myself as unable “and haven't you seen her? hasn't she as amédée to define it) it partook of nothing passed this way?" that was repellent, but, on the contrary, he urged the question with the same measurably enhanced his attractiveness, strange eagerness which had marked his making him “different" and lending him a manner from the first, a manner which con- distinction which, without it, he might have founded me by its absurd resemblance to that lacked. and yet, patent as this singularity of a boy who had not mixed with other boys must have been to the dullest, it was some- and had never been teased. and yet his ex- thing quite apart from any eccentricity of pression was intelligent and alert; nor was speech or manner, though, heaven knows, i there anything in the least degree abnormal was soon to think him odd enough. or “queer” in his frank, good-humored gaze. “isn't your description," i said gravely, “i think that i may have seen her," i thinking to suit my humor to his own, began slowly; “but if you do not know her i "somewhat too general? over yonder a few should not advise miles lies beuzeval-houlgate. trouville it. i was interrupted by a shout and the sound self is not so far, and this is the season. a of a large body plunging in the thicket. at great many white hats trimmed with roses this the face of “that other monsieur” flushed might come for a stroll in these woods. if slightly; he smiled, but seemed troubled. you would complete the items -” and i “that is a friend of mine," he said. “i waved my hand as if inviting him to continue. am afraid he will want me to go back with “i have seen her only once before," he him.” and he raised an answering shout. responded promptly, with a seriousness ap- professor keredec floundered out through parently so genuine as to make me doubt that the last row of saplings and bushes, his beard he had meant to be whimsical at all. “that embellished with a broken twig, his big face was from my window at an inn, three days red and perspiring. he was a fine, a mighty ago. she drove by in an open carriage with- man, ponderous of shoulder, monumental of out looking up, but i could see that she was height, stupendous of girth; there was cloth very handsome. no,” he broke off abrupt- enough in the hot-looking black frock-coat ly, but as quickly resumed — "handsome he wore for the canopy of a small pavilion. isn't just what i mean. lovely, i should say. half a dozen books were under his arm, and that is more like her and a better thing to be, in his hand he carried a hat which evidently shouldn't you think so?” belonged to “that other monsieur,” for his “probably-yes--i think so," i stam- own was on his head. mered, in considerable amazement. one glance of scrutiny and recognition he “she went by quickly," he said, as if he shot at me from his silver-rimmed spectacles; were talking in the most natural and ordinary and seized the young man by the arm. way in the world, “but i noticed that while “ha, my friend!” he exclaimed in a bass she was in the shade of the inn her hair ap- voice of astounding power and depth, “that peared to be dark, though when the carriage is one way to study botany: to jump out of the got into the sunlight again it looked fair.” middle of a high tree and to run like a crazy i had noticed the same thing when the lady man!” he spoke with a strong accent and a who had passed emerged from the shadows of thunderous rolling of the "r.” “what was i the path into the sunshine of the glade, but i to think?” he demanded. “what has arrived did not speak of it now; partly because he to you?” gave me no opportunity, partly because i was “i saw a lady i wished to follow,” the other almost too astonished to speak at all, for i answered promptly. was no longer under the delusion that he had “a lady! what lady?” any humorous or whimsical intention. “the lady who passed the inn three days "a little while ago," he went on, "i was up ago. i spoke of her then, you remember.” in the branches of a tree over yonder, and i “tonnerre de dieu !” keredec slapped his caught a glimpse of a lady in a light dress and thigh with the sudden violence of a man who the guest of quesnay upon the present opportunity but gild it, for and that men had knowledge of the right the adventure of the afternoon left me in a celestial turpentine. after that i cleaned study which was, at its mildest, a greenish my brushes, packed and shouldered my kit, purple. and, with a final imprecation upon all sausage- the confession has been made of my sandwiches, took up my way once more to curiosity concerning my fellow-lodgers at les trois pigeons. les trois pigeons; however, it had been com presently i came upon an intersecting paratively a torpid growth; my meeting with path where, on my previous excursions, i had them served to enlarge it so suddenly and to always borne to the right; but this evening, such proportions that i wonder it did not thinking to discover a shorter cut, i went strangle me. in fine, i sat there brush-pad- straight ahead. striding along at a good gait, dling my failure like an automaton, and say- and chanting sonorously, “on linden when ing over and over aloud, “what is wrong the sun was low," i left the rougher boscages with him? what is wrong with him?" of the forest behind me and emerged, just at this was the sillier inasmuch as the word sunset, upon an orderly fringe of woodland "wrong" (bearing any significance of a where the ground was neat and unencum- darkened mind) had not the slightest applica- bered, and the trimmed trees stood at polite tion to that other monsieur.” there had distances, bowing slightly to one another been neither darkness nor dulness; his eyes, with small, well-bred rustlings. his expression, his manner, betrayed no hint the light was somewhere between gold and of wildness; rather they bespoke a quick and pink when i came into this lady's boudoir of a amiable intelligence--the more amazing that grove. “isar flowing rapidly” ceased its he had shown himself ignorant of things anytumult abruptly, and linden saw no sterner child of ten would know. amédée and his sight that evening: my voice and my feet fellows of les trois pigeons had judged stopped simultaneously-for i stood upon wrongly of his nationality; his face was of quesnay ground. the lean, right, american structure; but they before me stretched a short broad avenue had hit the relation between the two men: of turf, leading to the château gates. these keredec was the master and “that other stood open, a graveled driveway climbing monsieur” the scholar-a pupil studying thence by easy stages between kempt shrub- boys' text-books and receiving instruction in beries to the crest of the hill, where the gray matters and manners that children are taught roof and red chimney-pots of the château were and yet i could not believe him to be a simple glimpsed among the tree-tops. the slope case of arrested development. for the matter was terraced with strips of flower-gardens and of that, i did not like to think of him as a intervals of sward; and against the green of a “case” at all. there had been something rising lawn i marked the figure of a woman, about his bright youthfulness — perhaps it pausing to bend over some flowering bush. was his quick contrition for his rudeness, per- the figure was too slender to be mistaken for haps it was a certain wistful quality he had, that of the present chatelaine of quesnay: perhaps it was his very “singularity"--which in miss elizabeth's regal amplitude there was appealed as directly to my liking as it did never any hint of fragility. the lady upon urgently to my sympathy. the slope, then, i concluded, must be ma- i came out of my varicolored study with a dame d'armand, the inspiration of amédée's start, caused by the discovery that i had “monsieur has much to live for!” absent-mindedly squeezed upon my palette once more this day i indorsed that worthy the entire contents of an expensive tube of man's opinion, for, though i was too far cobalt violet, for which i had no present use; distant to see clearly, i knew that roses and sighing (for, of necessity, i am an trimmed madame d'armand's white hat, and economical man), i postponed both of my that she had passed me, no long time since, problems till another day, determined to in the forest. efface the one with a palette knife and a rag i took off my cap. “i have the honor to soaked in turpentine, and to defer the other salute you," i said aloud, “and to make my until i should know more of my fellow- apologies for misbehaving with sandwiches lodgers at madame brossard's. and camp-stools in your presence, madame the turpentine rag at least proved effective; d'armand.” i scoured away the last tokens of my failure something in my own pronunciation of her with it, wishing that life were like the canvas name struck me as reminiscent: save for the everybody's magazine prefix, it had sounded like “harman,” as a mas; therefore, discovering that the very frenchman might pronounce it. (foreign pedestrian gentleman was making some sort names involve the french in terrible difficul- of inquiry concerning les trois pigeons, i ties. hughes, an english friend of mine, came to a halt and proffered aid. has lived in france some five-and-thirty years “are you looking for madame brossard's?” without reconciling himself to being known as i asked in english. “monsieur ig.”) “armand "might easily be the traveler uttered an exclamation and jean ferret's translation of “harman.” had faced about with a jump, birdlike for quick- he and amédée in their admiration conferred ness. he did not reply to my question with the prefix because they considered it a plau- the same promptness; however, his delibera- sible accompaniment to the lady's gentle tion denoted scrutiny, not sloth. he stood bearing? it was not impossible; it was, i peering at me sharply until i repeated it. concluded, very probable. even then he protracted his examination of i had come far out of my way, so i retraced me, a favor i was unable to return with any my steps to the intersection of the paths, and interest, owing to the circumstance of his back thence made for the inn by my accustomed being toward the light. nevertheless, i got route. the light failed under the roofing of a clear enough impression of his alert, well- foliage long before i was free of the woods, poised little figure, and of a hatchety little and i emerged upon the road to les trois face, and a pair of shrewd little eyes, which pigeons when twilight had turned to dusk. (i thought) held a fine little conceit of his not far along the road from where i came whole little person. it was a type of fellow- into it, stood an old, brown, deep-thatched countryman not altogether unknown about cottage-a branch of brushwood over the certain "american bars” of paris, and door prettily beckoning travelers to the knowl- usually connected (more or less directly) with edge that cider was here for the thirsty; and what is known to the people of france as as i drew near i perceived that some one “le sport." was availing himself of the invitation. a “say," he responded in a voice of un- group stood about the open door, the lamp pleasant nasality, finally deciding upon light from within disclosing père baudry, the speech, "you're 'nummeric'n, ain't you?” head of the house, filling a cup for the way. “yes," i returned. “i thought i heard farer; while honest mère baudry and two you inquiring for- " generations of younger baudrys clustered "well, mfriend, you can sting me!” he close, not to miss a word of the interchange of interrupted with condescending jocularity. courtesies between père baudry and his “my style french does f'r them camels up in chance patron. paris all right. me at nice, monte carlo, it afforded me some surprise to observe that chantilly-bow to the p'fess'r; he's right! the latter was a most mundane and elaborate but down here i don't seem to be gud enough wayfarer, indeed; a small young man very f'r these sheep-dogs; anyway they bark dif- lightly made, like a jockey, and point-device ferent. i'm out lukkin’ fer a hotel called in khaki, puttees, pongee cap, white-and- les trois pigeons.” green stock, a knapsack on his back, and a “i am going there," i said; “i will show bamboo stick under his arm; altogether you the way." equipped to such a high point of pedestrian “whur is it?" he asked, not moving. ism that a cynical person might have been re i pointed to the lights of the inn, flickering minded of loud calls for wine at some hostelry across the fields. “yonder-beyond the in the land of opera bouffe. he was speak second turn of the road," i said, and, as he ing fluently, though with a detestable accent, showed no signs of accompanying me, i in a rough-and-ready, picked-up dialect of added, “i am rather late." parisian slang, evidently laboring under the “oh, i ain't goin' there t'night. it's too pleasant delusion that he employed the dark t' see anything now," he remarked, to french language, while père baudry con- my astonishment. “dives and the choo- tributed his share of the conversation in a choo back t’ little ole trouville f'r mine! i slow patois. as both men spoke at the same on'y wanted to take a luk at this pigeon-house time and neither understood two consecutive joint." words the other said, it struck me that the “do you mind my inquiring," i said, dialogue might prove unproductive of any “what you expected to see at les trois highly important results, this side of michael pigeons?” christmas and the spirit of democracy thing was written up, all anglo-saxondom courage to tell them so. then they got tired was smiling through its tears and saying: of clutching, and their hearts warmed and "that's just like us. god bless us, every one.' their hands relaxed and they began to give. “but it's different now. something has never was such giving known before. it got into the christmas spirit. doing good was a perfect deluge of beneficence. a mere doesn't seem such a jolly thing as it once was, catalogue of the gifts would make a christmas and you can't carry it off with a whoop and carol of itself. hello. people are getting critical. in these “but would you believe it, they never have days a charitable shilling doesn't go so far as it got the fun out of it that i got when i filled used to, and doesn't buy nearly so many god- the cab full of turkeys and set out for camden bless-you's. you complain of the rise in the town. the old christmas feeling seems to price of the necessaries of life. it isn't a circum- have been chilled. the public has grown stance to the increase in the cost of luxuries critical. instead of dancing for joy it looks like benevolence. almost every one looks suspiciously at the gifts and asks: 'where forward to the time when he can afford to did they get them?' it has been so impressed be generous. and when he is generous he by the germ theory of disease that it foolishly likes to feel generous, and to have other fears that even money might be tainted. it's people sympathize with him. it's only human a preposterous situation. generosity is a nature. a man can't be thinking about him- drug on the market, and gratitude can't be self all the time; he gets that tired feeling had at any reasonable price.” that your scientific people in these days call “yes,” i said, "you are quite right, public altruism. it is an inability to concentrate his sentiment has changed. gratitude is not so mind on his own concerns. in spite of himself easily won as it was in your day, and it takes his thoughts wander off to other people's longer to transform a clutching, covetous old affairs, and he has an impulse to do them sinner into a serviceable philanthropist. but good. now in my day it was the easiest i do not think, scrooge, that the christmas thing in the world to do good. the only spirit has really vanished. he is only a little thing necessary was to feel good-natured, and chastened and subdued by the spirit of there you were! nowadays, the way of the democracy.” benefactor is hard. it's so difficult that i “i don't see what democracy has to do understand you actually have schools of phi- with it,” said scrooge. “i'm sure that no- lanthropy.” body ever accused me of being an aristocrat. scrooge shrugged his shoulders and seemed what i am troubled about is the decay of to shrivel at the thought of these horrible gratitude. if i give a poor fellow a shilling, institutions. i ought to be allowed the satisfaction of hav- "just fancy,” he continued, “how i should ing him remove his hat and say “thank'ee have felt on that blessed christmas night if sir,' and he ought to say it as if he meant it. instead of starting off as an amateur angel, the heartiness of his thanksgiving is half the feeling my wings growing every moment, i fun. it makes one feel good all over.” had been compelled to prepare for an entrance “but," i answered, “if the fellow happens examination. i suppose i should have been to have a good memory he may recall the put with the backward pupils whose early fact that yesterday you took two shillings education had been neglected, and should from him, and he may think that the proper have had to learn the a b c's of charity. response to your sudden act of generosity is, school of philanthropy! ugh! and in the “where's that other shilling?' that's what holidays too! the spirit of democracy puts him up to. it's "i have been visiting some elderly gentle- not so polite, but you must admit that it goes men who have had something of my ex- right to the point.” perience with the spirit of christmas. like “i don't like it,” said scrooge. me, they were converted somewhat late in life. “i thought you wouldn't. there are a they never were in as bad a way as i was great many people who don't like it. it's a for i did business, you may remember, in a twitting on facts that takes away a good deal narrow street with quite sordid surroundings of the pleasure of being generous.” while they were financiers in a large way. “i should say it did,” grumbled scrooge. yet i suppose that they, too, were ‘squeez- “it makes you feel mean just when you are ing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, most sensitive. just think how i should have covetous old sinners,' though nobody had the felt if, when i gave bob cratchit a dig in the everybody's magazine waistcoat and told him that i had raised his the level. everybody is either looking up or salary, he had taken the opportunity to ask looking down, and they are taught how to for back pay. it would have been most do it. i remember attending the annual inopportune.” meeting of the society for the relief of “you owed it to him, didn't you?” indigent children. the indigent children “yes, i suppose i did, if you choose to put were first fed and then insulted by a plethoric it that way. but bob wouldn't have put it gentleman who addressed to them a long that way; he wouldn't take such liberties. discourse on indigence and the various duties he took what i gave him; and when i gave · that it entailed. and no one of the children him more than he expected, he was all the was allowed to throw things at the speaker. happier, and so was i. that's what made it they had all been taught to look grateful. all seem so nice and christmasy. we were “now these inequalities do exist, and so not thinking about rights and duties; it was long as they exist all sorts of helpful offices all free grace.” have place. the trouble is that good people “now, scrooge, you are getting at the are all the time doing their best to make point. there is no concealing the fact that the inequalities permanent. you have heard the spirit of democracy makes himself un- how divines have interpreted the text, “the pleasant sometimes. he breaks up the old poor ye have always with you.' the good pleasant relations existing not only between old doctrine has been that the relation be- the lords and the commons, but between tween those who have not and those who you and bob cratchit. man is naturally a have should be that of one-sided dependence. superstitious creature, and is prone to worship the ignorant must depend upon the wise, the first thing that comes in his way. when a the weak upon the strong, the poor upon the poor fellow sees a person who is better off than rich. as for the black, yellow, and various himself, he jumps to the conclusion that he is particolored races, they must depend upon a better man and bows down before him, as the white man, who gaily walks off with before a wonder-working providence. when their burdens without so much as saying 'by this providence smiles upon him, he is glad your leave.' and receives the bounty with devout thank- “now it is against this whole theory, how- fulness. it is what the old theologians used ever beautifully or piously expressed, that the to call 'an uncovenanted mercy.' protest has come. the spirit of democracy “all this is very pleasant to one who can is a bold iconoclast, and goes about smashing sign himself by the grace of god king, or our idols. he laughs at the pretensions of president of a coal company, or some such the strong and the wise and the rich to have thing as that. the gratification extends to created the things they possess. they are not all the minor grades of greatness as well. the masters of the feast. they are only those the great man is ordained to give as it of us who have got at the head of the line, pleases him and the little men to receive with sometimes by unmannerly pushing, and have due meekness. the great man is always the secured a place at the first table. we are not man who has something. i suppose, scrooge, here by their leave, and we may go directly that in your busy life, first scraping money to the source of supplies. they are not together and then dispensing it in your joyous benefactors, but beneficiaries. the spirit of christmasy way, you have not had much democracy insists that they shall know their time for general reading or even for listening place. he rebukes even the captains of to sermons?” industry, and when they answer insolently, "i have always attended divine service he suggests that they be reduced to the since my conversion," answered scrooge ranks. even toward bishops and other piously; "as for listening--" clergy his manner lacks that perfect reverence “what i was going to say was that if you that belonged to an earlier time; yet he had attended to such matters, you must have listens to them respectfully when they talk noticed how much of the literature of good sense. will is devoted to the praise of the blessed “it is this spirit that plays the mischief inequalities. how the changes are rung on with many of the merry old ways of doing the strong and the weak, the wise and the good. to scatter turkeys or colleges among ignorant, the rich and the poor; especially the a multitude of gratefully dependent folks is poor, who form the hub of the philanthropic the very poetry of philanthropy. but to sat- universe. nobody seems to meet another on isfy the curiosity of an independent citizen christmas and the spirit of democracy so as to your title to these ing to help. he comes to things is a different mat- the conclusion that if you ter. the more indepen- really wish him well, you dent people are, the must wish him to be at harder it is to do good least as well off and as to them. they are apt to well able to take care of have their own ideas of himself as you are. the what they want.” first thing you know, you “it's a pity then to are wishing to have him have them só indepen- reach a point where he dent,” said scrooge; "it will not look up to you at spoils people to get above all. “there is a certain their proper station in friendliness by which we life.” desire at one time or an- “ah! there you are," i other to do good to those answered; “i feared it we love. but how if there would come to that. with be no good that we can all your exuberant good do? we ought not to will you haven't alto- wish men to be wretched gether got beyond the that we may be enabled theory that has come to practise works of mer- down from the time when cy. thou givest bread the first cave-dweller to the hungry, but better bestowed on his neigh- were it that none hun- bor the bone he himself gered and thou hadst didn't need, and estab- none to give to. thou lished the pleasant rela- clothest the naked; oh, tion of benefactor and that all men were clothed beneficiary. it gave him and that this need existed such a warm feeling in not! take away the his heart that he naturally wanted to make wretched, and the works of mercy will be at the relation permanent. first cave-dweller an end, but shall the ardor of charity be felt a little disappointed next day when quenched? with a truer touch of love thou second cave-dweller, instead of coming to lovest the happy man to whom there is no him for another bone, preferred to take his good office that thou canst do; purer will pointed stick and go hunting on his own that love be and more unalloyed. for if account. it seemed a little ungrateful in thou hast done a kindness to the wretched him, and first cave-dweller felt that it perhaps thou wishest him to be subject to would be no more than right to arrange leg- thee. he was in need, thou didst bestow; islation in the cave so that this should not thou seemest to thyself greater because thou happen again. didst bestow than he upon whom it was be- “christian charity is a very beautiful stowed. wish him to be thine equal.' thing, but sometimes it gets mixed up with “there, scrooge, is the text for the little these ideas of the cave-dwellers. some- christmas sermon that i should like to preach times it perpetuates the very evils that it to you and to your elderly wealthy friends laments. perhaps you won't mind my read- who feel that they are not so warmly ap- ing a bit from a homily of st. augustine preciated as they once were. "wish him to on this very subject. st. augustine was a be thine equal'—that is the test of charity. man who was a good many centuries ahead it is all right to give a poor devil a turkey. of his time. he begins his argument by but are you anxious that he shall have as saying: 'all love, dear brethren, consists in good a chance as you have to buy a turkey wishing well to those who are loved.' this for himself? are you really enthusiastic about seems like a harmless proposition. it is the so equalizing opportunities that by and by sort of thing you might hear in a sermon and you shall be surrounded by happy, self-reliant think no more about. but st. augustine goes people who have no need of your bene- to the root of the matter and asks what it factions? means to wish well to the person you are try “do you know, scrooge, i sometimes think everybody's magazine that it is time for some one to write a new and his airs of superiority. he is not teach- 'christmas carol,' a carol that will make the ing at all, so far as you can see. he is the world know how people are feeling and some center of a group of eager learners, who are of the best things they are doing in these days. using their own wits and not depending on it should be founded on justice and not on his. they are so busy observing, compar- mercy. we should feed up bob cratchit ing, reasoning, and finding out things for and put some courage into him, and he should themselves that he can hardly get in a word come to you and ask a living wage not as a edgewise. and he seems to like it, though it favor, but as a right. and you, scrooge, is clear that if they keep on at this rate they would not be offended at him, but you would will soon get ahead of their teacher. sit down like a sensible man and figure it out “and the spirit of democracy will take with him. and when the talk was over, you to a children's court where the judge you wouldn't feel particularly generous, and does not seem like a judge at all, but like a he wouldn't feel particularly grateful; it big brother who shows the boys what they would be simple business. but you would ought to do and sees that they do it. he like each other better, and the business would will take you to a little republic where seem more worth while. boys and girls who have defied laws that “and then, when you went out with the they did not understand are making laws of spirit of christmas, you their own and enforcing would ask the spirit of de- them in a way that makes mocracy to go with you and the ordinary citizen feel show you the new things ashamed of himself. they that are most worth seeing. do it all so naturally that you he wouldn't wait for the wonder that nobody had night, for the cheeriest things thought of the plan before. would be those that go on he will take you to pleasant during business hours. he houses in unpleasant parts would show you some sights of the city, and there you to make your heart glad. he will meet pleasant young would show you vast num- people who are having a bers of persons who have got very good time with their tired of the worship of the neighbors and who are get- blessed inequalities, and ting to be rather proud of who are going in for the their neighborhood. after equalities. they have a you have had a cup of tea, suspicion that there is not so they may talk over with you much difference between the the neighborhood problems. great and the small as has if you have any sensible been supposed, and that suggestion to make, these what difference there is does young people will listen to not prevent a frank com- weby you; but if you begin to talk radeship and a perfect un- about the poor, they will derstanding. they think it change the subject. they is better to work with people are not philanthropists- than to work for them. they they are only neighbors. think that one of the inalien- "i hope he may take you, able rights of man is the scrooge--this spirit of de- right to make his own mis- mocracy - to some of the takes and to learn the lesson from them with- charity organizations i know about. i realize out too much prompting. so they are a little that you are prejudiced against that sort of shy of many of the more intrusive forms thing, it seems so cold and calculating com- of philanthropy. but you should see what pared with your impulsive way of doing good. they are up to. and you will probably quote the lines about "the spirit of democracy will take you “organized charity scrimped and iced to visit a school that is not at all like the in the name of a cautious, statistical christ.” school you used to go to, scrooge. the “never mind about the statistics; they only teacher has forgotten his rod and his rules mean that these people are doing business christmas and the spirit of democracy on a larger scale than did the good people scholar's scorn of 'the aggregate mind.' he who could carry all the details in their heads. thinks that it is a very good kind of mind what i want you to notice is the way in which if it is only rightly interpreted. he has the the scientific interest does away with that idea that what all of us want is better than patronizing pity that was the hardest thing what some few of us want, and that when all to bear in the old-time charities. these mod- of us make up our minds to work together ern experts go about mending broken fortunes we can get what we want without asking any- in very much the same way in which surgeons body's leave. he thinks that what all of us mend broken bones. the patient doesn't feel want is fair play, and so he goes straight for under any oppressive weight of obligation, he that without much regard for special inter- has given them such a good opportunity to ests. it is a simple program, but it's won- show their skill. and the doctors have derful what a difference it makes. caught the spirit too. instead of looking wise “there never was a time, scrooge, when the and waiting for people to come to them in the message of good will was so widely interpreted last extremity, they have enlisted in social in action, or when it took hold of so many service. you should see them going about kinds of men. perhaps you wouldn't mind opening windows, and forcing people to my reading another little bit from st. augus- poke their heads out into the night air, and tine: 'two are those to whom thou doest making landlords miserable by their calcula- alms; two hunger, one for bread, the other for tions about cubic feet, and investigating righteousness. between these two famishing sweat-shops and analyzing foodstuffs. it's persons thou the doer of the good work art their way of bringing in a merry christmas. set. the one craves what he may eat, the "and the spirit of democracy will take you other craves what he may imitate. thou to workshops where you may see the new kind feedest the one, give thyself as a pattern to of captain of industry in friendly consultation the other, so hast thou given to both. the with the new kind of labor leader. for one thou hast caused to thank thee for the new captain is not a chief of banditti, satisfying his hunger, the other thou hast interested only in the booty he can get for made to imitate thee by setting him a worthy himself, and the new leader is not a con- example.' spirator waiting for a chance to plunge his “it is this hunger for simple justice that knife into the more successful bandit's back. is the great thing. and there are people who these two are responsible members of a are giving their whole lives to satisfy it. what great industrial army and they realize their we need is to realize what it all means, and to responsibility. they have not met to ex- get that joyous thrill over it that came to change compliments. they are not senti- you when you found for the first time that mentalists, but shrewd men of affairs who life consisted not in getting, but in giving. have met to plan a campaign for the common it's a wonderful giving, this giving of one's welfare. they don't take any credit for it, self, and people do appreciate it. when you for they do not expect to give to any man have ministered to a person's self-respect, any more than his due; yet there are a good when you have contributed to his self-reli- many christmas dinners involved in the cool, ance, when you have inspired him to self- business-like consultation. help, you have given him something. and “afterward, the spirit of democracy will you are conscious of it and so is he, though take you to a church where the minister is you both find it hard to express in the old preaching from the text, ‘ye are all kings terms. all the old christmas cheer is in and priests,' as if he believed it; and you will these reciprocities of friendship that have believe it too, and go on your way wondering lost every touch of condescension. we need at the many sacred offices in the world. some genial imagination to picture to us all “you will hurry on from the church to the happiness that is being diffused by peo- shake hands with the new kind of politician. ple who have come to look upon themselves he is not the dignified 'statesman' you have not as god's almoners, but as sharers with read about and admired afar off, who has others in a common good. i wish we had every qualification for high office except the a new dickens to write them up.” ability to get himself elected. this man “if you are waiting for that, you will wait knows the game of politics. he is not fasti- a long time,” said scrooge. dious and likes nothing better than to be in "perhaps so, but the people are here all the thick of a scrimmage. he has not the the same, and they are getting in their work.” the travesty of christ in russia by leroy scott author of "the walking delegate," "to him that hath," etc. l'verywhere in russia is the pres- dom that has been convulsing russia these l ence of the holy church. last few years? in the heart of every thatched village of searching out the answers to my questions, i clay or rough logs stands a white, domed found that the gorgeous, omnipresent church, edifice, magnificent in its setting of supreme so imposing to my eyes, was but a gorgeous, poverty. in every city block, it seems, rises omnipresent lie. the church does not, be- a stuccoed church, its azure domes outrival- fore all else, represent christ and his teach- ing the sky, its gilded domes outgleaming the ings; before all else it represents the govern- sun; and always the reminding jangle of bells ment and its desires. the holy synod, the beats over the city. and these churches, at ruling body of the church, might as well be service hours, are packed with people-giv- ' called the ministry of religion, for it is as ing ear to the glorious chant-watching the much a department of the state as is the elaborate ceremonials of the long-haired, gor- ministry of war. the members of the holy geous priest misted about by heavy, sweet in- synod are directly or indirectly chosen by the cense from swinging censers on their knees, czar, and are ultimately responsible to him bowing till their foreheads press the chill alone. it chooses the higher dignitaries of stone floor-passing the gold-margined icons the church, and these appoint the officials at the foot of the altar, to kiss the hand of of a lower grade; and so on down to the village the mighty st. nicholas, or the pierced feet priest, who gets his parish through the ap- of christ crucified. and everywhere in the proval of his bishop. the holy synod is a streets walls are hung with icons, and in front religious autocrat-rather, a subautocrat to of them the passers-by uncover and cross the holy czar. thus the church is made their breasts; and before icons famed for to harmonize with the state; nay, more-is their potency as miracle - workers, street made its servant. crowds prostrate themselves, even though since the dignitaries of the church are also snow or rain be falling, or the earth be coated essentially officials of the state, it is not sur- with slush. prising to discover in them a likeness to the yes, everywhere is the church, and every- regular government officials, who have set a where are the signs of worship. truly, the model of corruption and harshness for all the government's claim that all russians are world. many are the ecclesiastics who find devotees of the orthodox faith seems wit- worth to be on the side of the highest bidder, nessed by the facts. and yet...! well, and even in the very courts of the church after i had seen a few drunken priests, after decisions are determined, not by merit and i had heard a thief, kneeling at an altar, beg justice, but by the church's interest, or often god's blessing on his enterprise, after i had by frank bribery; and so general is this cor- listened to a church dignitary proving to ruption that it is considered an established the people by the scriptures that for them condition and excites but little comment. education and advancement are fruits of the and as for harshness, the fiercely repressive devil, i began to be stirred by wonderings. plehve, who was hated beyond all other mas- beneath its surface show of gold and cere- ters of modern russia, and whose death by a mony, what was the real character of the bomb raised his slayer to the rank of a demi- russian greek church? beneath their for- god, had his ecclesiastical counterpart in the mal worship, what was the religious charac- late pobedonostsev. as head of the holy ter of the people? and what was the attitude synod for more than a quarter of a century, of the church toward the aspiration for free. pobedonostsev opposed with his powerful the travesty of christ in russia personal influence every measure that made prayers, if kneeling before and kissing icons- for freedom or enlightenment, and hesitated if the frequent performance of these physical not even to interpret god as approving this acts constitutes religion, then the ignorant bitter oppression. to be sure, many officials masses are devoutness itself. but i soon strive to be kind and just; but the dominant learned that though the forms are necessities type is approximately the same in church to the peasant's superstitious soul, yet to him and state. they are nothing but forms. of the whole between these higher clergy and the village spiritual significance of religion he has no idea. priests stretches a gulf deep and wide. the the reason for this is obvious. the church former have opportunities for education and has taught the people form alone. have open to them all the higher positions in even concerning the meaning of the com- the church; the latter are barred from enter- monest forms, the commonest insignia, of ing the higher clergy and from attaining the his religion, the average russian peasant is higher positions, and as a class are very poor blindly ignorant. in st. petersburg i asked a and very ignorant. and even worse. on gray and bearded guard at the church of alex- all sides i heard stories of bribe-taking, of ander ii.-erected in memory of that monarch drunkenness, of cheating, of lying, of lowest on the spot where he was killed by a bomb immorality, even of plain stealing. in —why the lower bar of the three- now what is the influence of such a armed cross on the cupolas was set aslant. religion, and such (according to a priesthood, up- eastern legend, on the masses and christ, that he upon the intel- might suffer the lectuals? when i utmost of human first began my in- ills, was born a quiries among the cripple, so the intelligent class, lower bar on the i went about st. cross is set at an petersburg for angle to accom- two weeks seek- modate his un- ing an educated equal legs.) the layman who had old ex-soldier, intimate knowl- who had been on edge of the guard at the church. i sought church for twen- him in vain. all ty-three years, i questioned had smiled his open but one answer peasant's smile -“i know noth- and shook his ing." and all shaggy head. were surprised “the good god that the church knows! we don't should interest know anything. me. the intel- we are all poor, lectual class dark [ignorant] simply ignores the people.” church, or thinks photograph by c. o. bulla, st. petersburg. the following of it only as one incident, though of the prime evils it deals specific- of the country. the dead formalism of ally with the lowest element of the popula- orthodoxy, the embargo against any other tion, is significant of the general religious faith, have borne their logical fruit. edu- ignorance of the masses. it is a custom cated russia is without religion. when a massacre of the jews is impending the hold of the church is almost entirely for the faithful who live in the endangered on the peasantry, who compose four fifths quarters of a city to nail a crucifix upon their of russia's population. and if crossing the door, or to display in their windows a picture breast, if burning of candles, if mouthing set of st. nicholas or of the virgin mother-and father alexei poyarkoff, a liberal priest who was a inember of the first duma. everybody's magazine of course the murderous mob passes by houses hood. and, prompted no otherwise by the thus marked. now at the time when a mas- church, such sharp attention have they given sacre broke out in one city, cléo de merode, that in general the peasants regard them the notorious french dancer, whom freakish as greedy, grasping merchants, having a fortune has gifted with a face that to crude eyes monopoly of certain necessities of this life looks that of a saint, was performing at a local and of eternity, and striving always to extort theatre, and lithographs of her were every- the highest possible prices for their wares. where in shop-windows, even in the jewish consequently, before a child is christened, or quarter. when the mob, raging through this a couple married, there is fierce bargaining section, saw in a window a picture of the between peasant and priest as to the fee. famous dancer, they crossed themselves and often the wrangling pair will at length be went not into that house to rob and wreck separated by but half a penny or a pound of and slaughter. they supposed that cléo de flour—and still continue haggling. babies merode was the virgin mother. have gone unchristened, the dead have been though the peasant considers the forms of buried without religious service, couples the church a necessity, he has, speaking gen- have left the church unmarried, because the erally, little respect for the priest who ad- priest's demanded price was regarded as ex- ministers those forms. not only have the vil- tortion. lage priests as a class neither the moral nor the it can readily be perceived that this relig- mental qualities to inspire esteem, but regard ion of forms, administered by such a priest- for them is reduced yet lower by their economic hood, has little relation to right living. there stands out sharply in my mind a working man's living-room, hung with exactly thirteen icons, beneath which on the floor was sprawled the work- ing man in a drunken heap. the naive peasants are as ready to ask god's blessing on an evil deed as on a good one. the form alone to them is religion -it is everything. the re- sult is that when they perceive how empty and lifeless is form, everything is gone. at the present time, when the intel- ligence of the people is being roused as never before, just this process of losing religion is going on rapidly among the masses-especially among the working people of the large cities, who are most accessible to intellectual stimulus. often this loss of religion springs from a cause almost incredibly child- ish. i met a factory worker a procession from the cathedral of the assumption, the kremlin, moscow, after the ceremony of who years before while living in a village had conceived of god as a white-haired, white- relations with the peasantry. they are paid bearded old man who ruled in the nearest beggarly salaries, often as low as $ a year; large city—a common peasant conception, the rest of their maintenance they must get in by the way. on coming to the city and the form of fees and gifts from their parishes, finding no such man, he had concluded that and since the peasants are as poor as scraped there was no god and that religion was a bones, only the sharpest attention to business humbug. by the priests will gain them a decent liveli- but let it not be deduced that the russian blessing the apple. typical priests of the higher clergy. peasant has no capacity for true religious fold. the history of the monastic prisons, feeling. he is gentle and generous, is rich in which exist for the discipline of heretics, is spiritual qualities; but that which is really black with the stories of men who have been good in him proceeds not from the influence cast into cells because of their beliefs, there of the church but from his own natural en- to rot out the best years of their manhood, or dowments. and let not the ultimate blame for by harsh treatment to be driven insane; and of the peasant's lack of true religion be placed some nothing has ever been heard again with- wholly on the priests, ignorant, greedy, and out the heavy walls. the records of the solo- immoral though they often are. “we dare vetzkaya monastery contain an account of a not teach our people true religion,” bitterly man who was cast into its prison at the age of complained to me a village priest of the better twenty-five, and held there, because he re- type, a fine, broad-minded man. "church fused to recant, till he was ninety. he was spies have their eyes always on us. if we do then (about ) offered his freedom, but as more than merely go through the prescribed relatives and friends were gone, and life meant forms, the spies report on us, and our reputa- nothing to him, he begged and was granted the tions are blackened with the authorities, or favor of remaining in the prison till his death. worse befalls us. the good we try to do-it t he case of father tzvetkoff is an exam- is that that ruins us!” ple of the fate likely to befall a man who such, briefly, is the russian church, and sincerely, devoutly, begins to question the such the relation between it and the people. teachings of the church. a simple and loved among the elements of this relation two an- priest, who tried to fill his life with good cient policies of the church stand out at this deeds, father tzvetkoff had long been trou- period of russia's travail with dominant dis- bled by doubts over certain of the church's tinctness: the opposition of the church to dogmas. for the easement of his perplexity freedom of conscience, and its rabid hostility he went on a pilgrimage in the early part of to any degree of political freedom. with a to several chief cities, where he asked rigor that recalls the spanish inquisition does the opinion of high officials of the church the church punish any open searching after upon his doubts. he was merely a seeker the higher truth, any unsanctioned attempt to for the truth. at no time did he express his apply practically the teachings of christ, questionings publicly, nor try to disturb the especially on the part of those within its own faith of others. teret anon ditu the kremlin at moscow, the holy of holies of russia. the cathedrals were erected during the fifteenth century. at the left is the royal palace, maintained for the occupancy of the czar when he visits the city. from a painting by refin, a religious procession. the crowds of poor are kept back by cossacks armed with whips. in the foreground a gendarme may be seen in the act of lashing a peasant the travesty of christ in russia the poor grew stronger and stronger, to the litical freedom by its religious instruction great betterment of their morality and habits to the people. it teaches that for russians. of work. and by them he was regarded the czar is god's representative on earth; almost as one sent from god. that the czar's word is god's word, the czar's but again came interference. the church laws are god's laws; that to disobey the took alarm at the spiritual power he was czar is to disobey god; that when misfortune gaining. his various establishments were falls through act of the czar, such misfortune searched for evidence against him, but noth- must be regarded as merited punishment; that ing incriminating was discovered. never- the people deserve nothing, and if the czar theless, the clergy accused him before the gives anything, his gift is a mercy; that god civil authorities, by whom he was tried and made some to be masters and some to be exonerated. but the clergy, not to be servants, some to be rich and some to be poor; balked, petitioned that and since god so he be delivered into planned, to try to their hands. the pe- change these condi- tition was granted, and tions is a heinous and in , without unforgivable sin being allowed even to against god. bid his parents good- now these teach- by, rachoff was des- ings, the fundamentals patched to the prison of which have been in the monastery at dinned into the peo- sudal. his mother ple's ignorant minds soon died of grief at for long generations, his fate, and his father exert a profound in- shortly followed. for fluence—though, to be eight years he was held sure, this influence is in the prison, and rapidly waning. out when he finally came in the vast famine dis- out, though still young, trict, i saw an age- he was broken and ex- scarred, hunger- hausted — harmless to gnawed old woman, the church, useless to whose misery and that man. of her wea zened and just as rigor- grandchildren (one of ously does the church whom lay dying in fight those who spend a corner of her hut) their efforts for polit- was due to the grind- ical freedom. tolstoi ing taxation and the is in a way the arch- utter neglect of the illustration of the czar, and who was re- church's hostility. ceiving her portion of more definitely, with a the rotten and clay- sincerer idealism than adulterated flour that any other man in a village priest of the better type. the grafting officials russia, he has stood were sending to the for political freedom and freedom of religion; famine victims as "relief.” and this old with the result that he has been excommuni- woman crossed herself and said with grateful cated, fiercely denounced again and again tears: “we'd be dead had our good czar by the church, and years ago was in im- not remembered us. may he reign forever!” minent danger of monastic imprisonment to the church is the most subtly difficult quiet his fearless words and terminate his enemy that the champions of liberty encoun- influence. from this fate he was saved only ter when they go among the masses. they by his great reputation and by the inter- hesitate to attack the church and its re- cession of an aunt, a court favorite, with the pressive teachings for fear of alienating their czar. audiences. i myself came into peculiar con- the church begins its opposition to po- tact with this difficulty. the priests have type of russian village church. spread the report that the revolutionary run back to the business of murder—this was movement is instigated and financed by the no rare incident of those stupendous tragedies. english, russia's hereditary enemies, for the after the great massacre at kishineff a sub- purpose of disrupting the fatherland and then scription was taken for the benefit of “chris- easily taking possession of it. a cautious tian victims of the massacre"—that is, those agitator hesitated long one night before taking who had received injury while murdering the me to a secret meeting of ignorant work- jews; and it is significant of the church's men, lest my english speech might somehow attitude that the bishop of the diocese gave rouse this priest-begotten suspicion and be $ to this fund. the ruin of his effort. the difficulty was here is another little bit of history to the finally met by my going in the rôle of a dumb same point. a common way of inciting the russian author, and remaining soundless for massacres was for the police themselves, in three interminable hours. obedience to orders from higher powers, to how completely the church is the servant rouse the ignorant masses against the jews. of the state, how completely it approves in a village in the province of tchernigoff, in even the unholiest deeds of the state, is (when in a period of two months there well illustrated by its attitude toward the were hundreds of separate massacres), this jewish massacres of recent years—many of method was attempted by the local police. which, as has been indubitably proven, were but in this village there was but one jew and conceived and initiated by the government, no anti-semitic feeling; and so the people, and, where not actually participated in by perplexed, came to the village priest, who the police and troops, were at least not was generally loved, and asked if they should hindered by government forces. against attack the jew and destroy his home. “no, this wholesale murder of unarmed men, indeed,” said father velegodsky. “he is a women, and children, the church has not worthy man; he works hard, yet is barely lifted its voice; it has not dared to protest, even able to keep his family alive.” and the peas- if horror were felt by its dignitaries, because ants, instead of burning and murdering, were the massacres were approved by the state, moved by pity at the jew's poverty, and and their leaders were honored and promoted. carried to him bread and potatoes. the and individual dignitaries and priests went consequence of father velegodsky's advice the length of openly justifying the massacres. was prompt: he was seized and thrown into for hoodlums to rush from a jew-pursuing prison. he was soon released, but by order mob at sight of a priest, to bow, jew-bloody of the bishop of the diocese was excom- before the clergyman and cry, “father, your municated and unfrocked. a body of his blessing!” and then, after the benediction, to fellow-priests made an investigation of his case the travesty of christ in russia and completely exonerated him; but the bish- him to abandon his lofty patrons for the op's order stood unchanged-an order that masses. he began to preach to the people- meant for father velegodsky not only expul- to preach the christianity of the ten com- sion from the church, but the loss of civil rights mandments and the sermon on the mount. -practically his reduction to vagabondage. also he published a paper called god's truth, the church considers sympathy with the filled with simple teachings inspired by the people on the part of priests as an illegal in- bible. the paper had a wide circulation, terference with the government, and priests and petroff soon became immensely popu- who so offend are disciplined as a salutarylar and immensely influential. then came example to others. i met several liberal to pass what might have been expected. the priests who opened their secret bitterness to holy synod deprived him of his pulpit and me. “here is an instance of how we are had god's truth suppressed. punished," exclaimed to me the pastor of a but petroff was not done for. he began to snowy village on the border of siberia. write popular sermons, which were printed “three months ago the priest in the next in practically all the liberal newspapers of village, who had served that village for a gen- russia, and his influence continued una- eration, saw from his window a gendarme, bated. he became a candidate for the second in a state of intoxication, fall upon a man and duma, and easily led in the voting. but begin to beat him. the priest rushed out and neither the church nor the state wanted the remonstrated with the officer. and what hap- powerful, liberal petroff in the duma, so the pened? a few days later he was thrown into holy synod removed the danger by throwing a monastic prison. the charge was that he him, upon a pretext, into the cherementski had acted in a manner to lessen the public's monastery. as part of his punishment there, respect for the police. and he is still in his he had, standing up, to chant psalms and re- cell and in his stead is a priest of no such peat pravers for seven hours each day, with dangerous sympathies. the eyes of spies constantly upon him. he was “in another town, where some score of kept prisoner till shortly before the dissolution men had been condemned to death for slight of the duma, then released. there has been political offenses, several priests went in a a determined effort in the holy synod to un- body to the governor, humbly petitioning a frock him, but his wide popularity and his lighter punishment for the prisoners. and influence in high circles have saved him thus what happened here? the condemned men far from being made a religious outcast. were executed, and the priests, save two or yes, everywhere is the church. and its three who groveled and apologized, were omnipresent might seems to exist solely to stifle seized and thrown into prison for their trea the intellectual awakening of the people, their sonable impudence. soul-development, their agonizing aspiration “and see this paper. it is an order from for political liberty—to throttle the christ the holy synod. it says that any priest who struggling within them. ... and yet, de- uses his influence in behalf of a liberal candi- spite all its malign endeavor, true religion in date for the duma, or votes for such a candi- russia is not dead; it is not dead even in date, will be cast out of the church. and if the church itself. there is within the church we disobey, the church will know. nothing a younger generation of priests, of whom escapes its spies! fairness, justice, mercy, father petroff is the most distinguished ex- the spirit of christ-ah, these things our ample, whose ideal is the reorganization of church knows not!” the church upon a basis of true christianity. in higher ranks the attitude of the church is many such priests i met - broad-minded, the same. the five liberal priests who were earnest men, serving christ up to the very members of the second duma were unfrocked boundaries of the church's restrictions. but by the holy synod for not supporting the op- these are a helpless minority, and their pressive policy of the government. and the dream will remain a hopeless dream till that case of father petroff, at present the most vague time when the impatient political vision popular churchman in russia, is another of the people shall have been fulfilled. for so pertinent illustration. father petroff in his long as autocracy stands, so long will the young manhood had favor in the highest church continue to rank with the army as court and official circles. but their indiffer- a mere prop of czarism-so long will it re- ence to the misery of the country, together main a religion of hollow forms, a religion with his natural democratic instinct, impelled that is true religion's worst enemy. ches dan “they met face to face in front of the old rossmore." the kings of hate by arthur stringer author of "the silver poppy," "the l'ire-tappers,” etc. illustrations by w. herbert dunton the fog hung over the city like a blanket, deep-set eyes, the grim and down-drawn t unbroken, engulfing, stippled by the mouth that slashed across the bony face, white and yellow of the street-lamps. beside almost mummy-like with its cada verous me, well back in the doorway, lounged yellowness of skin. a sharp-spoken word "lefty" lynch, the central office stool- or two cut the silence. the cab crept on pigeon. we stood and smoked there, placid- along the gutter-edge and once more came to ly, and with singularly disengaged minds. a stop, half-way down the block. it stood and while we smoked we gazed out at the there, motionless, silent, mysterious. . . mist-draped solitude of seventh avenue and lefty caught me by the arm. then - he casually watched a lonely and funereal four- emitted a subdued little whistle. “what is wheeler as it crept along the wet asphalt. it?" i asked. i watched him edge out to yet somewhere just beyond broadway a where he could command a clearer view of fire was raging. already above the house thạt waiting carriage. tops we could see the “sky-flare,” red and “what is it?" i repeated. sullen through the muffling fog. we could his answer came in two words: “butch hear the clang and rumble of engines thun adams!” dering down the deserted cañon of broad- it took me a minute or two to place the way and shrieking and scolding at the cross- name. it brought back to my mind the streets. a second and a third alarm had albany post-office affair and the biff mc- gone in. the precinct patrolmen had been cabe case and the fenton shooting in the called for and would be off their beats until rossmore. i began to understand why lefty the “reserves” were posted. . so we knew had whistled. that very much as rats swarm up through a “but i thought he was in mattea wan for deserted warehouse, the furtive shadows of the life?" underworld would come swarming up over “and i thought the same, my friend! and the unguarded city. so did most of us! but the man sitting in that so we smoked and waited, gazing idly at cab is butch adams--adams, alias yeamans, the funereal four-wheeler, as it drew up at the alias buggsey ballard, the trickiest con-man, curb, scarcely five paces from where we stood. the crookedest fighter, who ever bucked the driver, in his wet rain-coat, sat on the against byrnes and mccluskev!” box, impassive, motionless, like a figure “will you gather him in?” i casually carved out of ebony. the wheels grated and inquired. locked against the curb; the lines drooped; lefty, the stool-pigeon, stood smoking for a the horses steamed in the moist air. moment or two, his eye on the black shadow out of the black cavern of the carriage of the waiting cab. then he laughed a little, hood, suddenly, we saw the spurt of a lighted quietly, meditatively, before he answered. match. as the flame caught and the circle “not for me, thank you!” he murmured. of light widened, i could see a head within, “i've had enough shake-downs buiting in on bent low over a slip of white paper. then . fenton's business!” the match burned away, and the cab was “but what has fenton to do with it?”. once more a cave of darkness. but i had “he's got just enough to do with it to have made out the face of the man distinctly. the private tip go out to every one from the blocked out in that momentary aura of light captain down, that there is to be no cake- i had seen the wide, ape-like shoulders, the walking across any o’ his personal trails! u the kings of hate “funk? fenton funk? i guess not! bullet through the neck, and another in the there were reasons why he couldn't carry on shin-bone. being gamblers, neither man'd his scrapping-match. so he sloped north, give any information, or lay a charge. so to let adams cool down. but adams was nothing was done, though schmittenberg and after him, hot as a hornet, following him to the district attorney had a powwow with denver, and keeping up with him on a second fenton. it was that, i guess, made adams jump to san francisco. from there fenton think the other man was a ‘snitch.' for the skirted up the coast to seattle, and turned up reward was posted a week later for fenton's next in minneapolis, where they knew his old partner. it was based on the gideon record and headed him off toward mil- syndicate case and the albany post-office waukee. from there he took a night-boat job. adams had to migrate, and keep low. for chicago, where he was rounded up by a but he got even in his own way. fenton was pinkerton man, and put aboard a st. louis plunging in coney island real estate those express, with adams one train behind him. days. adams worked back, got the lay of at the planters', they say, he went down on fenton's place, blew the door off his safe, and one elevator as adams went up on the other. carried away $ , . he also left the word but he got to "squealer'chalked washington, and nice and plain then to baltimore, across the cash and there he sent drawer.” his wife through to i recalled the new york by robbery. that, boat, thinking the too, had been ro- strain was too manced about and much for her. enlarged upon, up then he dodged and down the back to philadel- rialto, for years. phia, and caught it took my gaze an express from back to the wait- germantown to ing carriage, where jersey city. and the principal of the an hour after he'd long and tangled crossed the hud- drama sat hidden són, he had a even as we talked. promise from the “my, my, but man higher up, big bob took the backed by instruc- loss of that money tions to schmit- hard,' went on tenberg, that new lefty, close beside york city should me. “but once he be kept too hot for got his head he be- butch adams!” gan working the “but they did ropes again, slow come together?” i and careful, fixing broke in, for the the right people tenderloin still w. herbert duncan and oiling the right talked of that interests-doing flight and chase everything to across a continent. make himself safe. "sure they two weeks later a came together! me together. "a girl who had a history that left joan of arc wire went out for adams got in over the arrest of harlem bridge, adamson sight. and they met face to face in front of the old butch saved his scalp by getting across the rossmore. fenton got his shot between the border to montreal. he killed time there for a eyebrows, on the bridge of the nose and the couple of years smuggling chinamen over into frontal bone. adams, as you'll recall, got a vermont. so big bob was left alone with his a four-flu'shlr." everybody's magazine family, and went on making money and getting "i guess they're enough wise guys on the deeper into east side 'politics,' and took over force to keep a finger out of that pie!” he a tenement or two and a half-interest in an ruminated aloud. i demanded to know automobile factory, and bought a theatre, and what he meant. prospered and grew respectable, and even “you'll have to do a little investigating of laid plans for an aldermanic nomination. your own, if you want to know what i mean,” and did you ever hear what the man in the was his answer. cab yonder remarked when he read about i looked out at the fog-bound city, at the fenton's first clam-chowders down the sound still waiting cab. i remembered the grim and his naming his second boy after the and vindictive face i had seen behind its mayor? he just handed the paper back to curtains. i recalled the strange and gruesome his hoosier room-chum and said: 'i'll sweeten story, the years of hate and intrigue, the em- his pie for him!'" bittered hearts and blighted lives, the whole we sat for a moment, side by side, in dark and still unended drama. silence, looking at the cab. lefty relit his “i am going to follow this thing out for cigar before he spoke. myself!” i said, with a sudden determination. “but you remember what happened. big the central office man laughed easily. bob's eyesight began to fail him, from that “all right,” he said, flinging away his cigar- old wound along the frontal bone. when end and stretching himself. “but be careful adams heard of that he descended on the of just one thing when you're investigating island so full of glee that he had to load up in a that game: don't get shoved into the ring third avenue joint, and was rounded in with and stepped on!” half a gallon of nitro under his arm by a i looked at him, bewildered. he laughed a fenton lookout. so big bob started work- little, and turned up his coat-collar. "well, ing the wires again, still more slow and i've got my ward to look after,” he mur- thorough this time. inside of a month, some mured, and with that he drifted southward way or other, adams there was sent up to through the fog, and was lost to sight. matteawan. a month later fenton went i no longer hesitated, once i had decided stone blind, still fretting and worrying about on my plan of action. a little shop, with adams. and he kept on fretting, until he drawn blinds, seemed the only port into which bought that old penfield club-house and got that furtive figure of five minutes before might it barred and walled off into a kind of fortress, have beaten a retreat. and where that and had a walking-track and a swimming- stranger who had spoken through the cab pool built up on its roof, where he's kept him door went, i intended to follow. so i rolled self for two years, and that's where he is going out through the fog, with the gait of a mid- to keep himself—and i guess that's about night drunkard. when i saw lights behind where my story ends!” the drawn blinds i veered about to the shop “but you said the man in the cab there door and calmly opened it. the next moment was adams!” i broke out. i had as calmly and casually stepped inside. “did i?” he said indifferently. he began a companionable smell of mingled warm buttoning up his overcoat. air and cigar smoke, of bay rum and soap and “and if that's adams, what's he doing florida water, greeted my nose. tilted back here in new york ?” in a row stood three barber's chairs of worn “d'you suppose i'm paid for knowing and faded plush. each chair, so wide-armed things like that?" answered the stool-pigeon. and inviting, was empty. a kettle steamed “but you must have a suspicion, haven't and sang from a little coal-stove behind them. you, that he's here for trouble?—that he might near a white boarded partition that cut off want to settle that old score with fenton?” the back of the room lounged a small-bodied lefty did not answer my question at the calabrian, thrumming a guitar. he was in moment. instead, he pulled me deeper into his shirt-sleeves, and his face was pitted with the shadow of the doorway, for the figure of a smallpox. from a tin cage above him sang man had edged out across the sidewalk, had and trilled a yellow canary. two other men, remained talking for a minute or two at the sallow and neutral-tinted, bent over a table cab-door, and had as mysteriously edged beside the stove, silently playing a game his way back and disappeared. there was of cards. one was low-browed and short- something very knowing in lefty's smile, as nosed, ſat-handed and placid and sleek. the he stood there peering through the fog. other was nervous and lean; his face reminded wherhat ort the street-door opened with the suddenxess of a pistol-shot. me of a hawk's. on the partition, between the crack of the drawn blind i could still see two pink-tinted and pornographic wine-ad- the faint lamps of the waiting cab outside. vertisements, was a telephone. and i could at least wait until i had made the men, after one quick glance up, played sure of my ground. on in drowsy silence. there was something slowly the sleek and fat-handed man rose warm and quiet and homelike about the little to his feet. quite as slowly he lolled over to shop, something soothing in the steaming where i sat, with sleepy and indifferent eyes. kettle and the slowly curling smoke, some it was after hours, ḥe told me; the shop was thing conciliating in the low throb and drone closed. of the guitar and the comfortable music of no sign of life came into his face until i the bird. flashed my "put-back” roll, and flung a five- i began to see that i was mistaken. but i dollar bill on his mirror-shelf. then, in the peeled off my coat and staggered over into arbitrary tones of intoxication, i told him i · one of the faded plush chairs. for through wanted everything from a belgian hair-cut to the kings of hate circuit, a wire once used, perhaps, for pool- “what?" demanded the wire. room purposes, but now out of active racing “count me out, i have big things doing- service. where it led to i could not even adams is out of matteawan!” then came a surmise. but its obvious immunity from in second or two of silence. terruption left me with the impression that it “what adams?” was a strictly limited circuit ending in some “adams-butch adams-buggsey bal- well-screened companion dive beyond the lard.” ward. of one thing there could be no mis- “i guess i understand—but what is he take: this weasel-faced man behind the par- doing out of dump?" tition was nursing no fears as to his own “centre street people tipped them off up safety, for the trend of the talk between the there, maybe, to make it easy for him—ther operators at each end of the wire, as clear to me want to get him loose and see if it won't be a as though i had been reading it line for line case of dog eat dog." from a printed page before my eyes, had “you don't mean get at fenton?” already branded him as the middleman” of “sure i mean fenton--those two men have a band of forgers. the shop itself was an had it hot and heavy for seven years—to-night innocent-fronted “dump,” i next discovered, they're going to fight it out to a finish.” for the meeting of “scratchers” and “go “but is fenton wise?” asked the wire. betweens” and “layers-down”. and i soon “not if we know it.” understood, as i listened to the quick ex “then you mean adams and fenton will change of question and answer, how essential get together, after all! how about bulls?” that wire was for their operations. bulls, i knew, was yeggman argot for police but the matter of the patiently waiting cab officers. was still a mystery. and a mystery it re- “they daren't touch the case,” was the mained, until i knew, by the change in the answer. “the old man dropped the hint, “send," that a new man was at the far end of and they're all wise—so it's just dog eat dog the wire. i realized by the quick ease with until something is chewed up, and no in- which he slung off the hog-morse, that i was terference.” listening to still another operator who was the little dot-and-dash instrument clicked both adept and experienced. out a mirthless “ha-ha!” there seemed "is this shorty?" asked the key behind the something almost satanic in that metallic partition, after its bridging and introductory morse symbol for laughter, something cruel double “i's,” like the call to attention of a and calm and dispassionate. telephone bell. “but what's this gamblers' row to you?” “yes,” answered the sounder. “who's asked the wire. sending?" “i get five hundred for getting adams into the answer i could not make out: it was fenton's.” i sat up a little, involuntarily, at given in cipher. but the rest of the message the words. then i listened to the key again. was plain. “i drop out of the buck creegan “and another fifty from outside when the move to-night.” business is finished up proper." “you can't drop out!” complained the “is deal square?” asked the wire. sounder, for to the experienced ear "tele- “square enough for two lunatics, i guess," graphese” can be made as mobile and ex- answered the sounder behind the partition. pressive as the tones of the human voice. “they're dead ones now in everything but “is everything clear to talk over this wire?” that old scrap of theirs—i guess they'll die was the next sentence. happy as bulldogs if they get their teeth set in “everything safe as a cellar-go on," each other.” answered the key behind the partition. then came another brief silence. i “pinkertons nipped creegan's layer at noticed for the first time that the barber no noon to-day on a one-hundred raised note- longer stood beside me. he was placidly he bought a drink to pass the bill and the reading a pink-tinted evening paper behind booze spilled on his brush-work and made the the stove. color run-let sullivan know and see what “the chief wants to know what you're can be done." doing now?” asked the wire again. “you see what comes of boozing,” an- “waiting here with adams until fenton's swered the mirthless key. “but i can't touch men get away and everhardt is off the beat. creegan or sullivan-this is my busy night.” he's uncertain.” everybody's magazine “well, enjoy yourself,” answered the mirth- less wire, followed by a crisply sent “ ," the “telegraphese” for “good night.” “thirty,” answered the key, and a moment later i heard the sound of steps on the floor inside. i was snoring audibly as the door opened. although i could not see the weasel- faced man as he stepped out and stood there, i knew he was peering over at me. i also knew he had made some peremptory sign to the man reading the newspaper, for a moment later i heard the rustle of the fallen pages and the sound of his steps coming toward me. he shook me roughly. i was hard to waken, and gaped up at him mumblingly, and then wrathfully. i settled back, and he shook me again. but in the meantime i had seen two things. one was the glimmer of the lamps of the still waiting cab, through the blind-cracks, and the other was the weasel- faced individual standing impatiently in front of the telephone on the partition. i pulled myself together, yawning and stretching. much as i wanted to stay and hear just what message would go over that telephone, i saw my presence there longer was impossible. i lounged over toward my hat and coat, sleepily adjusted my collar and tie, and even essayed to feed a cuttlefish bone to the drowsy canary. but i saw by the face of the fat-handed man holding the door for me that patience was exhausted. and i had no desire to cross any one of the worthies in that placid little shop. so i stumbled out into the foggy street, turning aimlessly southward past the waiting cab. i had just time to round the first corner when the man with the weasel face darted out across the sidewalk and sprang through the cab-door, which had opened for him as he came. then i heard the horse's hoofs pound the asphalt, and the ratile of wheels. i swung about, and sprinted toward sixth avenue, in the wake of the hurrying carriage. under the shadow of an “l” station stood three “night-hawks." the man on the last cab, a claret-skinned buccaneer in an oilskin coat, caught sight of me as i ran toward him through the fog. being a tenderloin cab man, he snatched up his whip and reins without questioning, before my foot touched the steps. the other carriage was out of sight. “the old penfield club-house, quick!” i called out, as the hoofs clattered, the door slammed, and we jolted over the car tracks. even the l’nder groove has secrets of its own. but bit by bit and fragment by frag- ment, as i sat back on those foul and moldy- smelling cushions, i pieced together what i had heard and what i had already known, bridging each fissure with inference and deduction. and as the strange and mottled story of those two lives that had been given up to hate bickered through my brain, with the flashing speed of a kinetoscope film, it filled me with a certain awe at the primordial and epic-like ferocities, the dogged and bar- baric malignity, of its two grim protagonists. the weasel-faced man at the wire had been right; they were “dead ones.” the slow and corroding poison of that long hatred, of that sullen and sinister virulence of soul, had already done its work. they were mere derelicts on the sea-lanes of actual life. one was a man without sight; the other had al- ready paced the cells of a criminals' asylum. they were already dead; they were nothing now but madly contentious shadows, un- wholesome phantoms crowned with the swamp-glow of decaying hatreds. yet as i recalled certain rumors and whispers that had traveled up and down the under groove, certain stories of how the blind fenton guarded and nursed his strength and daily and most patiently practised with his re- volvers, shooting at targets from which bells sounded, training his ear to detect the minutest change of distance by sound variation, i began to foresee that this lonely samson in his city fortress might still make his stand against the circuitous assault of adams. whatever form that assault might take, it was clear that there would be no outside interference. one of the laws of the lawless is to let every man finish his own fight. and fenton, the poli- tician, had become a menace to his opponents. with the police, apparently, it was to be fire fighting fire. i decided, during that wild drive, that it would be better for me to drop out within a square or two of fenton's place. my approach would have to be indirect and unnoticed. yet i felt convinced that some secret and un- foreseen avenue of attack had been left open for adams. it was plain that he did not intend to strike openly. his entrance to that stronghold of the enemy would have to be an unsuspected and illicit one. my first task was to discover that way of entrance. once away from my cab, i made a careful circuit of the block. the fog had lifted by this time, and now a cold rain, slashing across the city from the east, left the undulating the kings of hate pavements full of puddles. seeing nothing, my backbone as i heard the squeak of the i crossed the street to the shadowy and drier grating-hinge, and the momentary rattle of corners of the shop-fronts. from there i the chain-lock, and then the heavy breathing looked up, studying the blurred sky-line before of the intruder, as he groped his way in me. while i stood there, well back in the through the darkness. and that man, i knew, gloom of a cloak factory's delivery door, as he felt about for the stairway, was adams buttressed by empty packing-cases, a little himself. there was no mistaking the ape- man with a weasel face went by. like shoulders, even in dim silhouette. he i watched him guardedly, shadowing every was alone, and he had locked the grating move he made. i saw him cross to the other behind him. i waited there without moving. side of the street, and beat back again in the i found it hard to relish the thought that the direction from which he had first appeared. man before me was butch adams. three doors west of the fenton building i then i heard him ascend, step by step, and saw him come to a sudden stop. i had time, open a door at the head of the stairway. i as he looked cautiously up and down the knew, from the sound of those quick and un- street, to dip back behind a flight of door hesitating footsteps, that he was afraid of steps. then i saw the gaunt figure stoop neither discovery nor interference. he must and quickly test with one hand the iron have known, i surmised, that the building grating that opened to the sidewalk on which was empty. he stood. then he peered up and down the something in the fate-like tread of those rain-swept street again, and went scurrying unhesitating feet, as i crept up after him, around the nearest corner, northward. stairway by stairway, seemed as blind and i directed my attention to this building implacable as the homing instinct of animals, before which he had stopped. it was one of as the spawning-passion of salmon climbing those shabbily staid knickerbocker residences wild and bruised to their almost inaccessible so common in the lower parts of new york, head waters. even as i stood on the iron belatedly surrendered to commercial pursuits. ladder under the carefully replaced hatch the lower half of it, i could see by the sign- through which he had disappeared, and board, had been converted into a cigar heard the rain beating and pounding on the factory. the two upper stories had been flat tinned roof, i did not hesitate to follow made into fur lofts. close at his heels. for i felt that he would thirty seconds after that furtive figure had never stop until he had reached his goal. passed the street-corner, i was testing the same the thought came to me, as i cautiously iron grating with my own fingers. for i had emerged from the narrow hatch and peered reason to suspect that the coming intruder, about, through the sting of the rain, at that when once inside, would see to it that this broken and lonely sky-line of roofs so high particular grating was locked after him. above the city, that this arena of coming it was still unlocked, and swung outward struggle was to be as isolated as though it lay without resistance. so, drawing it back, i on some rock-plateau of a desert. it seemed dropped down into the cellar-like opening another world—that city of sleepers, of light closing the little iron-rodded door after me. and life and warmth, only five short stories then i listened for a second or two, and, below me. yet there on the crest of that hearing nothing, struck a match and made lonely sky-line, three roofs to the westward, my way cautiously forward into the cellar. blocked out against the midnight gloom, stood i blanketed the flame with my hands so the fenton building. and as i crouched and that the merest pencil of light went out be- peered toward it i could see a dim figure fore me. it fell on rows of moldy-smelling creeping cat-like along the rising tiers of in- tobacco-leaf bales, with here and there a bar- tervening roofs. rel and a pine box or two. from the inner- i advanced as he advanced, only i went on most corner ascended a broken and dirt- my hands and knees through pools of water, littered stairway. i should have preferred and under the dripping rods of a broken iron getting up that stairway, and on up to the roof fence, scrambling slowly up four feet of roof even, at once. but i was uncertain as wet brick wall, squirming through still other to what might confront me above-stairs. so rusty iron bars, and always seeking the i waited well back behind the rank-odored shelter of the house-chimneys where they tobacco bales, knowing it would not be long. offered shelter. a little tingle of shock ran up and down b efore me stood what i knew to be the everybody's magazine roof-top gymnasium, the walking-track and life cheap and reveled in its risks and dangers, swimming-pool, of the blind gambler. it at last were confronting each other, were was little more than a clumsily improvised to essay once more that fight which had em- superstructure, imposed on a portion of the bittered and stunted their minds and warped original penfield building, and now guarded and wrecked their lives. they were alone by a sort of chevaux-de-frise of pointed there, at last, face to face, on that lonely wrought-iron rods. it was little more than a housetop, shut off from the rest of the world. rectangle of bald brick wall surmounted by destined to fight out their fight without earthly two huge skylights. and from no part of it interference, without possible help. there did a glimmer of light come. seemed something legendary and neolithic i wormed my way slowly across to the in it all to me, as i crept up the iron ladder wrought-iron rods. the ninth rod that i and dropped down beside the open skylight. tugged at was loose. it had been sawn there was something so ferine and untamed through at the base with a burglar's steel and ruthless in it all, something so aboriginal saw. as i stooped there, waiting, i heard a and adamitic, that it seemed almost absurd to faint but unmistakable noise. it was the me that each man should hold in his hand a sound a pocket jimmy might make in forcing revolver, a delicate instrument, a glimmering a window sash. the man before me had in firearm, a complicated and highly developed some way mounted the bald brick wall and tool of an age that calls itself civilized. be- pried open one of the skylights. low me lay the garishly lighted gymnasium, minute by minute crept by, but no further as bare and bald as a barn. from end to end sound came down to me. a quarter of an stretched the limpid surface of the swimming- hour lengthened to a half-hour, and still i pool, circled by its narrow wooden track. crouched there in the driving rain, waiting. behind this again stood the plain walls of then above each skylight suddenly flow- whitewashed brick. at the far end was a ered and hung a thin glow of light. the door. on one side of the pool stood the electrics in the gymnasium below had been great giant-like figure of fenton. he waited turned on. i could distinctly hear the slow there, alert and challenging, poised and and steady tramp of feet. it was fenton. listening, and as i peered down at him i it was the blind man, pacing the lonely could scarcely believe that the man i saw was ramparts of his fortress. i pushed up the blind. he stood there so unflinching, so loose rod and squeezed in between the wet ominous, holding in his hand a long-barreled irons, circling the brick wall cautiously, step colt “repeater." by step. on the remoter side of it my t hen, as i watched, i understood for the groping hands came in contact with a little first time the cat-like intruder's bewilder- segment of iron roof-fencing, standing on end ment. not only did the colt point directly against the wall. it had been used as a at the crouching figure of adams, but as ladder, to gain the gymnasium roof. adams stepped to one side, the gun-barrel my moment of hesitation, as i stood with followed him, foot by foot, at the sound of one foot on the first rung of that improvised eich more. as he stepped to the other side, ladder, was broken by a muffled scrape and the ever-menacing barrel still followed him. a soft thud. it sounded through the beating i once more remembered the talk about rain, little more than a cat-leap on a bare fenton and his revolver-practise: how, after floor. it was followed by a second unmis- sight had left him, he had made a laborious takable sound, an involuntary, irrepressible study of sound-direction, month after month wolf-like snarl of hate. but even before volleying at targets from behind which signals i heard the blind man's sharp answering had sounded, day by day sensitizing his ear challenge, his animal-like cry of alarm, to detect the minutest refraction and direction i knew that the intruder had let himself of sound. down through the opened skylight, that the adams stood there, hesitating, in wonder, two were together. realizing that the other man's barrel covered him, fearing, i took it, that this barrel might adams was in the stronghold of the man bark out at even the telltale click of a trigger- he hated. those two old and unrelenting · spring. but he was more than crafty. i saw enemies at last were together, face to face. him take out his knife, and quietly cut his those two spirits of crime and adventure, shoe laces, from top to bottom, and even down who had lived fast and loose, who had held into the leather of the uppers. then he the kings of hate stepped silently out of the shoes, and went pulsating roar of sound that was almost padding and crouching noiselessly along the deafening. but i saw, as those bullets wooden track, toward the door at the end of flattened against the whitewashed bricks, that the pool. once opposite it, he dropped to his he was quickly yet deliberately raking the hands and knees, darted out a hand, and length of the pool, from east to west, foot by foot. turned the key in the lock. quick as a fash adams poised there motionless, knowing he flung the key into the pool—for he wanted the slightest sound might still betray him, and no interruptions. watching that relentless volley come nearer the result of those two actions more than and nearer, puzzled, bewildered, knowing he startled me. for each movement was followed must act and act quickly. by a shot from fenton's repeating colt. the why he did what he did in his unreasoning first tore through the door panel, a foot above passion for escape only he and his maker where adams crouched. the second spit and will ever know. but suddenly he dived head cut into the water of the swimming-pool, foremost into the pool. within two feet of where the key had splashed. fenton waited and listened only one adams crouched there, transfixed. equally second. it was, perhaps, merely to make motionless stood the other man, waiting for sure of his bearings. an exultant little cry the least sound. there was nothing, for a of satisfaction, of triumph, escaped him. moment or two, to break the dead silence. then the sound of his great body as it cut the it was a tableau that might be seen only water rose even above the calling and the once in a lifetime—the two waiting and frantic pounding on the door. challenging and menacing figures, facing each the two enemies at last had met, body to other across that unruffled pool of water. . body, barehanded; they were fighting it out how long that tableau might have lasted it with the tooth and nail and sheer muscu- is hard to say. but it was ended from a lar strength of primitive man. the water quarter least expected. it was broken by the thrashed and churned, where they met and frenzied call of a woman's voice, a cry of fear locked together. the battling bodies rose that filled the place with a sudden tumult and and went under, and rose again, and still riot of noise, followed by a quick and terrified once more went under. then the churning pounding on the locked door. water quieted; nothing but an air-bubble or it was then, as fenton half turned toward two came to the limpid surface. the door, that adams fired! he fired madly, i drew back, for the door had been broken insanely, clutching one of the stanchions and in. i turned away, and climbing down the leaning far out over the pool, emptying every section of roof-fencing, staggered away across chamber of his revolver in one wide volley. the wet housetops, down some unknown fire- fenton returned his fire, not wildly, but escape, and out into the muffling and shelter- calmly, methodically, filling the place with a ing blackness of the night. w.hd the battling bodies rose and went under, and rose again. che players clorified theft of “the thief” that one is u seems to appeal to tempted to describe it as an theatrical audiences. intellectual drama, though “raffles” and “leah it is far from being anything kleschna” are still en- of the kind. joving enormous pros- those who know most perity on the road, al- about the difficult art of though they are now only playwriting are loudest in memories in new york, their praises of the technic- where the foundation of their success al perfection of this drama, and it is was laid. but these memories are this perfection, more than anything sharply revived by a new play, frankly else, that explains its success. it may called “the thief,” which has made surprise you to know that it is infinitely an impression that approaches a sensation. easier to write a play with many char- it is an extraordinary drama, one of acters than one with only a few; that the those that command interest at the very four-act form is much easier than the start and hold it to the end, while at the three-act form; and that the introducticn same time tempting people of an analytic- of a sub-plot is, in some sort, a confession al turn of mind into long discussion- that the author cannot sustain interest effects that do not always go together. in his main theme throughout the play. the heroine is just what the title calls there are very few modern plays in which her-a thief. heretofore it has been held are not introduced scenes whose real that a play with such a central figure object, more or less skilfully disguised, is could not succeed on the american stage. to kill time, for a play must run approxi- we are supposed to demand that heroes mately for about acting minutes- and heroines be possessed of virtue-pure, , if it is a three-act play. twenty-four carat virtue—on the stage. now “the thief” has but seven char- "the thief” smashes this cherished tra- acters all told, one of whom is a servant. dition, for it is not only the most talked it has not the suggestion of a sub-plot, about but the most successful, financially, and no comedy. it is in three acts, and of the new plays. let us see why. there is not a scene that is irrelevant; in- the author, henri bernstein, a native deed, not one that doesn't seem to be of paris, shows a marvelous mastery of the absolutely necessary. the action takes art of making plays. one is sure that, in place within twelve hours. there is no the beginning, his object was to give an actress delving into history to make it plain; every- opportunity for what is known as emotional thing happens before the audience. and work, an ambition that has inspired some there is action all the time, with continual thousands of plays, i suppose. to this end surprises, even in the long second act where he invented an absorbing melodramatic story; only two people are on the stage. the au- and he develops the situations with an inge- thor's powers of invention seem to be without nuity all the more remarkable because logic limit, and yet, when it is all over, one feels is not sacrificed. m. bernstein has, be- that the drama has developed logically and sides, the scholarly touch, the capacity for naturally, that it could have followed no clear and exact thinking, for forceful expres- other course. ,sion. in fact, so brilliant is the handling in my opinion, the success of this play natural enough, but the wonderful acting of nazimova has been noised about, and those who are attracted to the theatre become her captives. the g. p. is willing to accept the drama for the sake of the actress. if one is interested in trying to find out how others think, in tracing out intellectual proc- esses, then this “soul study," as mr. archer calls it, of a man with a sickly conscience that is continually getting in its deadly work, is really absorbing. but if one has small in- terest in psychology, preferring to feel rather than to think, then the ibsen play is the most depressing horror the stage has known. i am sure it is not ibsen but the genius of nazimova that crowds the theatre nightlv: the marked improvement in her english makes it possible for her to reveal more con vincingly her great power as an actress, to give the most delicate shadings, and to make the spoken word as eloquent as are her facial expression and her gestures. she is so natu- ral, so real, so thoroughly alive, that she never seems to be acting at all. indeed, one of the secrets of her success with ibsen's heroines is that she makes them human flesh and blood people, and not mere psychological ab- stractions, vague symbols of shadowy truths. and along with her consummate art, her great versatility, she has the wonderful quality of personal attraction that is called magnetism. at twenty-eight alla nazimova must be ranked with the half-dozen greatest actresses of the past quarter of a century. in every character she plays she seems a wholly different woman. valiantly and not unsuccessfully does wal- ter hampton struggle with the difficult part of solness, the master builder. he looks the part, especially in its splendid virility, and he reads with much intelligence, but he has not the magic giſt of portraying illusion; one cannot forget that he is acting. on the other hand, h. reeves-smith, so thoroughly dis- guised by make-up that his best friend would not recgonize him, is very real as dr. herdal. on the whole, “the master builder" is very much better acted than any other ibsen play that i have seen. “the struggle everlasting” is not nearly so great a novelty as the exploitation of the idea led one to believe it would be. edwin milton royle, an honor man in his univer- sity, who studied for the bar, turned actor, and then developed into a playwright, at- tempted a daring thing—to write a "modern morality play.” like his earlier play, “the squaw man," it was originally in one act and was presented at a gambol of the lambs' club, the most powerful of the actors' social organizations in new york. it was after- wards elaborated into a prologue and three acts. the result is curious and interesting. the program prepares one for symbolical drama, inasmuch as the chief characters are called mind, body, soul, worldly wise, a banker, and so on. the prologue, in a very elaborate and beautiful forest setting, is supposed to strike the key. in this, body is a mysteriously fascinating woodland sprite and mind is a young student. but in the first act mr. royle plunges boldly into modern drama. if one did not see the prologue, it would not be missed at all; and without the program to guide, one would never suspect that “the struggle everlasting” was meant to be a symbolical play. it is merely a modern drama with an unpleasant theme which de- velops powerful situations, none too closely knit together. in brief, the story is that of a young student who has been carrying on an affair with a servant girl whom he takes to the city upon his graduation. there the girl develops into a very thorough, prosper- ous courtesan, who wrecks the life of a dozen people: a prizefighter, a musician, a banker, and an actor; the student who is hind alone escaping destruction. in the end she falls in love with a young preacher, who is soul. he converts her to the extent of making her realize the error of her ways, and she com- mits suicide to save the clergvman's career. now the old morality plays deal with broad tur . abstractions, are more or less independent of time and place, and have an austere dignity, often a lofty grandeur. “the struggle ever- lasting” is concrete; it does not have general significance, not because its problem is per- sonal, but because its characters are individ- uals, rather than types, despite the abstrac- tions suggested by the names on the program mind might be john march, and body might be flossie montmorency. for the most part, the dialogue is written in the colloquial speech of the college and of the great white way in new york, and some of it is brilliant. one might well believe-although i do not think it is true—that mr. royle had employed the morality play idea to give him greater license, to enable him to say things that might offend without the disarming morality play hall-mark. “the struggle everlasting” is exceedingly well acted. florence roberts is the star, and she again shows herself one of the best trained of modern actresses, displaying about as high a degree of mechanical perfection as a player can hope to attain. she seems to know every trick of the stage: the exact value of the movement of a finger, of every inflec- tion. but there is no inspiration in her acting, none of the magic something that gets hold of one. she lacks the art of concealing her art—to use a hackneyed phrase—so that one is reminded of general horace porter's definition of a mugwump as a person "edu- cated beyond his capacity.” arthur byron doesn't look like mind; neither does his acting suggest the domination of intellectual force. but he is highly intelli- rena vivienne and cora malvern in "madam butterfly." photograph by white, new york. ethel jackson and the "show girls" in "the merry widow." gent and forceful, even if he is rather calls “the evangelist.” really, it is another fleshly. dewitt jennings, the preacher, who edition of “the hypocrites.” stripped to is called soul in the program, is remarkably the essentials, both are rather commonplace effective; as the stage preacher who stands melodrama. both have fine characteriza- for the old-fashioned pietistic religion always tion, brilliant lines, and scintillating satire. is. the manly preacher is one of the most. in both there are two women guilty of the dependable of the playwright's characters, unpardonable sin, of which, it appears, only and he is a stupid dramatist who cannot put women can be guilty. mr. jones has in his mouth effective scriptural quotations. sent more women to the bad for the sake of mr. jennings is a strong actor and he plays redeeming them than has any other living with real earnestness and sincerity. robert dramatist; and he handles them to the great peyton carter as worldly wise, edwin holt delight of minds of a certain conventional as a banker, joseph adelman as an actor, order—especially in england, where his pop- and franklin roberts as a pugilist stand ularity is enormous. out in a cast wherein the smallest part is as in this latest play he lampoons the clergy carefully presented as the most important. mercilessly, that is, the regular clergy, from henry arthur jones also depends upon a a bishop of the established church down to preacher to carry his latest play, which he the narrow, belligerent pastor of ebenezer grind photograph by white, new york. flora juliet bowley and robert edeson in “classmates." the players extravagance for the sake of a laugh. apparently re- membering every bit of horse-play, every inflection, every twist and turn that produced an effect, he cuts up monkey shines to his heari's content. and peo- ple like it. he has very excellent material provided him by the author, charles marlow, especially in the second act, where sir guy de vere, waking up to find he has gone back years, nevertheless tries to run his castle according to modern ideas. mr. wilson has a gorgeous time clowning it, and there is nothing he does so well. the george cohan school of musical comedy has many imitators, which is not to be marveled at, con- sidering the success attained by the young irishman. mr. cohan introduces in his musical mixtures what is supposed to be "pathetic heart interest," but what is nothing but commonplace melodrama of a rather cheap sort. his imitators have not discovered the im- photograph by otto sarony co., new york. portant fact that a cohan lotta faust. show succeeds despite this incongruous element and not because of it. he has a real gift for producing catchy songs, creat licious since the days of “fritz" emmett. ing mirth-provoking situations, and arranging “the hurdy gurdy girl” is, in a way, an them so that his show goes with a rush. imitation of another cohan show, “little "lola from berlin,” which john j. mc- johnny jones.” it goes in strongly for melo- nally wrote for lulu glaser, suggests the drama and “heart interest,” neither of which cohan success, “forty-five minutes from carries. it is not altogether lacking in fun: broadway.” there is a valiant attempt at a there are some lively songs and a great deal plot, but it is in many details absurd without of chorus-girl activity. richard carle is being amusing. chiefly responsible for it, and his rather lim- miss glaser deserves a far better ited type of humor seems to have missed comedy and one hopes that some day fire. john w. ransome did his best in a she will secure a vehicle familiar german dialect part, but the ap- as fine as her german plause was mostly for annie yeamans, who dialect, for there has been is soon to retire after something like half a no broken speech so de- century of stage life. y " stugrs ntt by sarah n nu cleghorn eare little jane is tall for seven; her legs are long, her arms are thin; she runns about from morn to even, runns & plays, out doors & in. dvd her hair is black, her eyes are gray, high is her forehead, short her chin. no blowzy red cheeks take away the lady whiteness of her skin. in church how still, how like a mouse! in school how quick, yett modest too- how nimbly sewing in the house! how faire abroad in bonnet blue! one only fault in her wee find (& that must chease & butter cure), she runns & plays soe like the wind, it keeps her spindling, thin & poore. tunt - maginel wright enright b everybody's magazine were the final result of the movement sketched. this was a natural and inevitable consequence from the lack of a proper system of currency. its destructive force has been immensely aggra- vated, by the wholesale, undiscriminating denun- ciation of sensational writers and the wild words of some whose duty it was to conserve instead of to destroy. indiscreet denunciation and laws by w. g. sumner professor of political and social science at yale university. in gunpowder or fed to soldiers during a bloody campaiga. it has been further evident to thinking persons that the pressure for the use of capital has out- measured the supply of capital. it is much eas- ier and quicker to plan schemes, pass resolutions in directors' meetings, print and offer bonds and stocks for sale, than it is to gather the capital to exchange for them, no matter how meritorious an enterprise may be. that we lately reached a period when the deadlock between capital and the de- mand for it was manifest is shown by the higher terms of interest offered by conservative enter- prises. in fact, long-time bonds could find no buyers during the past year. syndicates privately formed, which had taken blocks of securities in the expectation of selling them to the investing public, found that there was no public that would or could buy. in the exigency thus revealed, the great borrowing enterprises, finding it impossible to negotiate long-time bonds, resorted to the de- vice of issuing short-time notes running for one, two, and three years, at the most tempting rates of interest. under these unusual inducements, the controllers of capital represented by money and credits in bank, who would have considered it imprudent to invest funds in long-time bonds, felt justified in taking over hundreds of millions of dollars of short-time securities, and thus the delicacy of the situation was greatly aggravated. this was about the situation in the early fall, when the annual harvest put in its inex- orable demand for the temporary use of capital, or its representative money, to pay the incidental expenses of its gathering. it is a known fact that the thousands of banks standing next in proxim- ity to the agriculturist, and relied upon by him to supply his needs, keep a large portion of their funds on deposit in reserve cities. upon these reserve centers, then, the country banks from louisiana to minnesota made their usual ari- tumnal requisitions. the situation thus created found the banks in reserve cities, for the general reasons above considered, especially weak in their money reserves. with a proper system of cur- rency in the united states, this strain from the country would have been met by bank credits issued in the form of circulating notes, fully quali- fied and entirely adequate to meet the temporary requirements of the crop period. but in the ab- sence of any such system, these requisitions from the interior upon new york banks had to be met out of the already scant supply of their legal money reserves. the withdrawal of these reserves op- erated upon the great superstructure of bank credit like the removal of foundation-stones from under some great building. to restore equilib- rium, the banks in reserve centers were obliged to turn upon their borrowers and force payment from their debtors with little regard to the incon- venience or the loss incidental to liquidation by the debtor class. all the phenomena of shock-a hor- rible fall in the price of securities--fright and panic, is it true that a period of prosperity tends to a crisis, which must therefore be accepted as fairly to be expected? the answer to this question is, no. there is no reason to expect calamity in the train of consequences of pros- perity. in a country situated industrially as the united states is, prosperity means expansion, and that means constant new demands for capital. demands for capital soon cause operations of credit, and these may run to a crisis. if there are mistakes or abuses of credit, the crisis is more certain and it comes quicker. has there been any abuse of credit in our recent industrial history? it is possible that evidence of such abuse may appear later, but we have no such evidence yet. the failures have been very few, and very rarely have they been great. the “speculators” have been chiefly wanting. only two or three have attracted attention. we have had eight or ten years of very great expansion of industry, and it might reasonably be expected that an important number of persons would have made mistakes, and must fail when the money market became stringent. we should then know that an im- portant amount of capital has been lost, and a crisis would be produced in which there would be no mystery. it would be an old and familiar phenomenon. this is not what has happened. something of that kind has been presented, but it has been limited in amount, as far as the public yet knows, and does not account for the trouble. there has been one great and important inter- ference with industrial activity and prosperity. it may best be called ethical. some people of influence have become convinced that great capitalists and captains of industry are in the habit of making operations which are wrong in morals and harmful to private investors and to other individuals whose interests are modest and not easily defended. it is true that there have been cases of such operations. they have caused fright and have given rise to a popular belief that great operators control the affairs of great corpo- rations in such a way that small investors incur risks if they become stockholders in the same corporations. legislators have also tried to in- what caused the panic c tervene in the struggle of interests on behalf of one party and against the other. the rates of freight and passage on railroads have been fixed by legislation, as the freighters and passengers would like to have them, without knowledge of the cost of the service to the carrier, or ap parent care about that. other laws have de- fined other duties of carriers in such a way as to make them heavier and more costly. these acts have alarmed the stockholders in the railroads. the president of the united states has made himself the foremost in denouncing capitalists and masters of industry as corrupt and dis- honorable managers of the interests under their control. he has declared that he means to use all his legal powers to the utmost to punish the wrongdoers. as a consequence of the laws men- tioned and the executive will which has been ex- pressed,, it has been a fact that for two years past new attempts to raise capital by any of the most approyed and usual methods have met with difficulty and unwilling response, due to timidity. the ethical and political interferences would not have been very important if the situation had not been critical. there is an increased production of gold, and an advance in prices, the effects of which cannot be ignored. wages have advanced very seriously, and the demands of laborers have been increased. these changes affect the profits of industry and the outlook of new enterprises. they increase the timidity of petty investors and they present problems which are real. now, while the misconduct of powerful masters of industry is not to be excused or made light of, they have not appeared to deserve the attention which has been given to them. the laws which aim to put a stop to such misconduct in obedience to some ethical ideas will only produce far worse evils by throwing the entire financial system into confusion. the fears of the petty investors will cause new acts of folly on the part of the crowd, with wide-reaching results. respect for law will be overthrown by the weight put upon it. what we have seen is but the beginning of what is to be expected-confusion and wrangling, with stagnation of industry, suppression of enterprise, and a loss of the great and joyous energy which has hitherto characterized our people. think i can better comply with everybody's request for an analysis of the causes of the money stringency of this fall and winter, than by sending to you a copy of a letter written by me to the editor of a financial journal almost a year ago, for pub- lication in his annual symposium of opinions as to the outlook. it was written at a time of great buoyancy of the market; wall street was highly optimistic; since then we have had three “ pan- ics": the market collapse of march, the “silent panic” of august, and the present period of wreck and depression involving banks and other fiduciary institutions. this letter seems to me ample proof that the present crisis was easily dis- cernible to myself and others at least ten months before it came; and i have no change to make now in my apportionment of the causes respon- sible for it: december , . dear sir: replying to your question, “are we approaching a great industrial and political ay: in point of time a great industrial crisi and there are many indications of its being im- minent. despite the unprecedented output of gold, money is dear the world over, and dear because of high prices and activity in trade. nor are other causes for dear money wanting. great britain has not fully made up its losses in the boer war; japan and russia, particularly the latter, have scarcely begun to recover from the effects of their recent war. indeed it would look as if russia had not fully financed the cost thereof, and may be on the verge of civil war. within the past year there have been tremendous losses of capital in the destruc- tion of san francisco, and in the less awful calamity at valparaiso, and at its close we have famine in china. looked at the world over, the volume of the crops of was not above an average, despite the phenomenal yield in the united states. prices of commodities are above the normal and rising. labor all over the world is dearer than ever before; and the tendency is toward higher wages and shorter hours; conditions which are economically wasteful as regards product, what- ever their effect may be on the laboring class. turning now to our own country, new york, especially that part of it known as “wall street," has absorbed, and is absorbing, more than its share of the loanable fund. while our western and southern banks-indeed all banks which are “out of town” to new york—are lending more freely than usual at this season, that which they lend' is instantly and persistently absorbed by wall street. the new york stock exchange has ceased to be a free market, where buyers and sellers fix prices through the ebb and flow of demand and supply, and has become the plaything of a few managers of cliques and pools to such an extent that for months past every announcement of increased dividends, of stock distributions, and of rights, has been met by a fall in prices. the investing public is and remains out of the market, not because of ventures in industrials, in electric railways, or in suburban real estate—the specula- tion in each of which was checked months ago-- distrust of wall street methods by stuyvesant fish ex-president of the minois central railway. · the strain which the financial institutions and the great corporations of this country are un- dergoing at this writing is not the result of sud- denly formed or suddenly precipitated conditions. it is the breaking of a storm which has been vis- ibly rising for many, many months. i do not what caused the panic e and countries that do not do business largely on a credit and margin or equity basis, do not have financial panics. the causes of this, as of all other similar crises, are economic and fundamental; they are not at all psychological and hysterical, unless the almost common desire to speculate when prices are rising may be termed psychological economic conditions were ripe for a panic in . numerous professors and other financial students forecast, even before last march, “the irrepressible crisis," as secretary w. h. lough, jr., of the new york university school of commerce, wrote of it in a financial magazine. some of our greatest financiers began in to curtail credits, to stop unnecessary improvements, and, in other ways, to trim sail and prepare for the coming storm: they saw, all over the world, credit expanded to the danger point; they saw a tremendous expansion of loans and discounts, not only actually but as regards deposits; they saw demand deposits increasing rapidly and cash reserves becoming inadequate; they saw liquid capital being changed to fixed capital, at an unprecedented rate.' · a rapid and long-continued rise in prices, such as we have had since , always results in speculation and inflation. the cause of the present great rise in prices is the rapidly increas- ing output and supply of gold. this has caused its exchange value to depreciate. this depre- ciation is also largely responsible for the very high interest rates of to-day, which, in turn, are responsible for the present world-wide decline in the prices of bonds and other securities. · present financial and industrial conditions, as to gold, prices, interest rates, business and credit, closely parallel those of . if our banking conditions were not very much better than were those of , we might now expect to see dupli- cated the avalanche of failures of banks and commercial houses which then laid business pros- trate. the greater soundness and stability of our present banking institutions, together with better management and concert of action, have probably averted for us a panic which would have been as much greater than previous panics as our business expansion is greater than that of any previous period. as happened in , we may expect to see a sudden and sharp business depression follow in the wake of our financial crisis. we may be well through this depression in six months. it can hardly last more than a year, with gold depreci- ating in value and with prices tending strongly upward. liquidation in commodities, real es- tate, and labor is not likely to go nearly so far as it has gone in bonds and stocks. not only will a shortage in the world's food supply prevent a heavy decline in the prices of foodstuffs, but the flood of gold from our mines—amounting to more than $ , , a day-tends to check any fall that may occur in the prices of real property. but few persons realize the very great sig- nificance of this outpour of gold. in the world's annual output of gold was $ , , . in it was $ , , . in it will be about $ , , . the output is increasing rapidly because the cost of producing gold is de- clining more rapidly than is the cost of producing most other commodities. the cost of producing a thing fixes, or tends to fix, its exchange value with other things. as gold is the universal standard of value, and the prices of all other commodities are quoted in gold, we have no way of judging the changing values of gold except by the quoted prices of other commodities; that is, by the change in the level of average prices. as the price level has been rising rapidly for ten years, we know that the value of gold is depreci- ating equally rapidly. the effects of the declining value of gold are far-reaching. they are revolutionary in the financial, industrial, economic, political, and social worlds. not only are they seen in the rising prices of all tangible property, in high interest rates, in higher nominal but lower actual wages, and in lower prices of all securities bearing fixed rates of income, but they are upsetting all cal- culations in savings and insurance, based upon averages. because of these effects debts are shrinking, to the benefit of debtors and the injury of creditors, and many new problems are pre- sented to investors, employers of labor, poli- ticians, and legislators. average prices will probably not decline more than ten or twelve per cent. a decline of more than fifteen per cent. is necessary to cause a wide- . spread failure of banks, mercantile houses, man- ufacturers, and real-estate interests. inside of two years the cost of living, measured by gold, will almost certainly be higher than now and will be rising rapidly. in view of all the facts, it is absurd to credit the present panic to president roosevelt, to anti- corporation legislature, to “muck-raking," or to socialistic agitation. it would, perhaps, be more reasonable to suppose that, together with the ex- posures in insurance and other industries, these factors, by causing distrust, in , checked speculation and inflation and thus prevented an even greater collapse and panic than would other: wise have occurred. the sooner corruption is uncovered and crime exposed, the safer are our institutions and the less danger there is of panic and disaster. even "muck-raking,” by prevent- ing present bad management from becoming worse, may do more good than harm. two contributing causes of the present crisis are found in our inelastic currency system and our uncivilized tariff laws. nearly two years ago mr. jacob h. schiff de- clared that if we did not reform our "hodge- podge, clumsy currency system” we should have one of the worst panics we had ever seen. such a currency famine as we are now having is im- f everybody's magazine possible in canada, scotland, or any other coun- is the token of value which all the people recog- try with an asset currency. we can save our: nize and which passes current among them. selves now only by devising clearing-house certifi- this is because it is created by all the people, cates and other forms of asset currency which we and cannot be created by any individual or will use, some illegally, until confidence is re- section of the people. the values of all the other stored. sections are created by individuals. • our excessive tariff duties on imports are well and good. now suppose that at a probably largely responsible for the fact that say thirty years ago, a given amount of wealth was average prices have risen about fifty-five per cent. held by the american people, say $ , , , , in this country, since , against a rise in eng- and that it consisted of thirty-nine sections of land of about thirty-five per cent. this greater $ , , , each, which could be passed rise has induced greater speculation, has put a from man to man only through some form of greater strain on our capital, and has caused in- paper title, and one section of $ , , , , terest rates to go higher here than in any other money, which could be passed among all the country. a sound and elastic currency and a people at face value. that with this money a reasonable tariff system would most certainly system of credit was established which enabled have mitigated, if they would not have prevented, every one to transact all necessary “trading”; our present financial crisis. that a, owning $ , of land, and b, owning this highly enlightened country should be as $ , of railroad stock, wished to make ex- well prepared to weather a financial storm as is change. that a sold his land to c, the broker, canada or england or germany. and c, to pay for it, borrowed from e, the bank, the $ , . that a then paid the $ , to b for his railroad stock, and b paid the $ , over to c, the broker, for the land, and c, the broker, returned the $ , to the bank. when the fictitious wealth transaction was completed, all the rules and safe- guards of the people had been complied with. by thomas w lawson theorists who are prescribing for the im- author of "fronzied finance." mediate break down would have you believe that the money which entered into these transactions what i showed to joseph pulitzer in was the foundation factor therein. this is not london in , what i began showing the so. the confidence of all parties to the trans- people in everybody's magazine ten years actions in the legitimate value of not only the later, in , has at last materialized. the money, but the land, the stock, and the bank is system, having worked its trick machinery to its the foundation factor. limit, has brought the entire business structure of if confidence in any one of the sections fails, the people to the edge of the abyss. then that section is blacklisted, provided it what can be done? there can be but one can be identified and the damage remedied by permanent cure for present diseased conditions treating it separately from the other sections. ---amputation of the gangrened parts. the but if the rotten section cannot be segregated system's wise men say: "no, we will treat the from the other sections, all holders of “wealth". crisis as we have treated like crises in the past, tokens, other than the money form, doubt the by salving and painting the surface sores until legitimacy of the value of all their paper titles and they no longer show, until the people, seeing them rush to exchange them for the one thing of whose no longer, believe the patient well.” value they are sure-money. the whole struc- let us diagnose the situation from its elements. ture tumbles, because there is not, and cannot be, there is to-day in america, roughly speaking, money enough in existence to enable all the people $ , , , of “wealth." to get money for the form of “wealth” in which for clearness' sake, i will divide this "wealth” they have lost confidence. into thirty-nine sections of $ , , , each: right here i would call to the attention of land, raw material, machinery, finished material, president roosevelt and those eminent bankers railroads, steamships, business buildings, ho“ , and financial experts who are urging him to pass farms, etc., etc.; and one section of $ , , , new money laws, this basic fact, that in no such of money. measures can a real remedy for the present evil be this money section is the vital element by which found. all “trading" in the other sections is done. it is the total of the money of the american people the blood, and therefore the basis of the necessary may be doubled, and in a given time, if present structure of credit, by which all the people, owning underlying conditions continue to exist, it will the $ , , , of “wealth," can carry on have to be doubled again and again without end. their “business." to hark back. suppose that, thirty years ago, this money section is a fixed and understood the value of each of the forty sections of american factor. it is also the measure by which the “wealth” was legitimate-that is, that the value value of all the other sections is arrived at. it of each section had come into existence through where did you get it, gentlemen ? g compliance with the rules and regulations for the control of the people's money, and that each sec- tion had continued to grow legitimately, until to-day they were doubled. then if the people, becoming panic-stricken, insisted on calling for real money, the measures of relief fathered by mr. morgan and his associates might represent permanent relief, because they might restore con- fidence in the real value of each of the thirty-nine sections. but, during the past thirty years, a few men, the “system," have invented and worked a trick, by which there have been manu. factured billions of paper tokens of "wealth," which in fact is not "wealth," and these paper . tokens have been passing in and out among the people as the exact equivalent of real money. because of this manufacture there exist billions of this fictitious.“wealth” which so counterfeits real.“ wealth as to make it impossible for people to distinguish it from the “wealth” represented in the other sections. this being so, there is but one possible way to restore the confidence of the people in the combined wealth represented by their paper titles, and that way is, first to expose , and then to-eliminate the fraud-made “wealth,” the "wealth” which is really not "wealth.” i assert, and without fear of successful con- tradiction: wil first. that the trouble of to-day was generated by a few men, arbitrarily creating and putting into circulation billions of fictitious "wealth.” second, that when this “wealth” was put into circulation it was made to appear the equivalent of the money of the people. third. that because it was so made to ap- pear, its makers were able to place it in banks and trust companies in place of billions of the people's money deposits, which the men who created this fraud "wealth” took over to them- selves. fourth. that the climax—the crash line-was reached because the people, having been shown how this could be done and had been done, de- manded, and are demanding, and will continue to demand, real money for the real money deposited by them. fifth. that it is not possible to cure the present evil until there has been thrown out of banks and trust companies this fraud “wealth," and until the loss which has already been made is exposed and assumed by whomever it legally falls upon. sixth. that any attempted government relief along the lines of additional money will only make the loss greater, and when final exposure comes, as come it must, the destruction will be more terrible. where did you get it, gentlemen? by charles edward russell author of "soldiers of the common good." editor's note.-in wall street they call the recent crash of their card structure the “roosevelt panic." all the rich malefactors, their newspaper allies, and some others, are say- ing that the president has unsettled the confidence of the people in the nation's banks and trust companies; that he is responsible for the tremendous fall in the values of securities and the rush of depositors for their money. what has the president done? he has enforced anti-trust and anti-rebate laws, and attempted to curb corporate abuses by publicity. he has dared interfere with “the system.” “the system" retaliates by accusing him of injuring the country. but what about the metropolitan traction scandal, the alton deal, the life-insurance exposures ? every intelligent man knows that the trouble is world-wide, and that so far as the united states is concerned, the greatest contributing cause is the monstrous overcapitalization of our in- dustries. there could be no more glaring example of the abuses that the president has pointed out than the american tobacco company, the story of which follows. chapter x ability, energy, foresight! upon this a blessed trinity we believe to rest the beautiful palaces, the spacious pleasures, the vast and swelling fortunes of the , ; from this origin comes the golden tide on which so gloriously they sail. ability, energy, fore- sight! precious qualities, for the lack whereof the , , flat-dwellers and the , , h everybody's magazine below them must be condemned forever and and mortgaged, of all the firms (if you will irretrievably to their respective stations. believe me) amounted to less than $ , , so we are accustomed to think. perhaps and none of them being financially prosper- we shall understand more clearly the dif ous, there was, strictly speaking, little to base ference between flat-dweller and palace- solid securities upon. the remaining $ ,- builder if we consider impartially the history , of stock was distributed among the of a very successful and in some ways a firms. as an illustration of the ability, energy, typical instance of the centralizing of cap and foresight that characterized these proceed- ital, the american tobacco trust. ings, i may mention that the apportionment of stock was effected by the gentlemen pres- ent writing figures on slips of paper that were the hat in high finance deposited in a hat, shaken, and drawn out; this institution dates back to , and and, lest it be doubted that such a perform- really owes its existence to the growth of ance be possible in high finance, i add that it the cigarette habit that infected this coun- has been solemnly sworn to by men that took try after the centennial exposition of , part in it. when the cigarette was obligingly exhibited . upon the slips being drawn from the nat, to us by some of our admired foreign vis- the duke firm and allen & ginter received itors. by many houses were engaged the largest allotments, the kinney company in supplying the rapidly growing demand. less, and the remaining concerns secured these houses competed-and, in the end, only $ , , each. extravagantly, so that none of them could the firms then put part of their holdings make money. five of the leading cigar- on the market—which they could easily do ette-making firms, to wit: w. duke, sons without impairing their control of the enter- & co., of durham, n. c.; allen & ginter, prise. they found that the public could be of richmond; goodwin & co., and the induced to buy the stock at . in a day, kinney tobacco company, of new york; therefore, without effort, without investment, w. s. kimball & co., of rochester, n. y., without expenditure or risk, they had been and oxford, n. c., met in new york in presented with millions and had still their january, , to consider ways of limiting business exactly as before, only better, be- competition. with no intention to speak cause now competition among them was unfairly or disparagingly, i suppose it was eliminated. as commonplace a lot of men as ever got from the first the new trust was blessed together. some of them had been in business with a singular and certain instrument of a very long time and had nothing to show prosperity that lay in a fixed habit of the but mortgages and harassing debts, and at american cigarette smoker. no cigarette least one of them was hard upon the shoal consumer ever went into a shop and asked of practical bankruptcy. merely for a package of cigarettes, but in- but they met and stumbled upon a plan of variably he demanded a certain brand. as organization, modeled baldly upon a hundred a rule he would not be content with anything other such combinations then and now but this brand; hence every dealer was com- in existence. this american tobacco com- pelled to maintain stocks of all the brands pany was launched (congenially) in new most called for. jersey, where it put to sea january , . capital, $ , , ; assets, chiefly a treasure-making habit speculative and paper; investment, nothing, -literally nothing, for the men that formed this one little fact made treasures for the the company did not contribute one cent american tobacco trust and would have of money to it. they put in their respec- made them if the managers of the trust had tive and unprofitable businesses, but these, been wholly incompetent. the trust con- while important to the total cigarette product trolled the supplies of many of the most popu- of the country, were trifling compared with lar brands, “sweet caporal,” “old judge,” the total tobacco manufacture. of the cap- “richmond straight cut," and the like. ital stock, $ , , was set aside for what dealers must have these or cease from were called the “live assets” of the five com- business. here was a power incalculable. bining firms. nobody ever knew what “live the trust was engaged in suppressing assets" meant; for the total real estate, free its competitors. any dealer that would where did you get it, gentlemen ? k that one source of profit had been over- the first moves by the union tobacco looked, and thereafter the tobacco producer company were very disconcerting. it began began to feel a steady contraction of his by operating on a bold and big scale the in- market and a decline of the prices that he stitution known as the subsidiary company, obtained. and showed the duke party how much had been overlooked concerning that device. chapter xi the exact method by which the subsidiary company device is worked i can show best by the syndicate comes in relating a particular instance. one of the firms that had remained outside of the trust meantime, mr. ryan and his friends had and continued to fight it was w. t. blackwell noted well the progress of the tobacco & co., of durham, n. c., makers of smok- trust, and at the beginning of they seem ing-tobacco. the ryan-widener-root syn- to have thought that the time had come for dicate bought out w'. t. blackwell & co. them to participate in this good thing. ac- for $ , , . they then formed the black- cordingly, they organized the union tobacco well tobacco company as a subsidiary con- company of new jersey. old friends of ours cern of the union tobacco company and appear in the list of incorporators-thomas capitalized it at $ , , . they then sold f. ryan, p. a. b. widener, w. l. elkins, to the public at par $ , , of this stock, thomas dolan, and r. a. c. smith, and with retaining the rest for their own purposes. the gratification we may observe that the new net result of this transaction was that they enterprise had the sage advice and directing had secured a profit of $ , , in cash counsel of elihu root, now secretary of state and yet had $ , , in stock. of this nation, then confidential adviser of why should any man be poor? thomas f. ryan. the capital stock of the union tobacco the trust strikes colors company was $ , , , of which, kindly note, only $ , , was ever paid for. the t hese operations caused additional misery news of its forming occasioned many painful to captain duke and his friends. in making moments on board captain duke's ship. of something out of nothing they had been the navigators there easily foresaw trouble. enormously successful, and yet, it must be mr. ryan and his friends quickly found the admitted, in a crude and blundering way. talent necessary to embark on a large scale opposed to them were men that had been all in the cigarette and tobacco business. among their lives engaged in making something from the experienced men that they secured was nothing and had shown in the process both william h. butler, who had been vice-presi- finesse and industry. from the duke ship the dent of the american tobacco company and outlook seemed stormy indeed. meanwhile the originator of the "sweet caporal”cigarette. the ryan-root syndicate proclaimed that it it was evident, therefore, that the union to- purposed to press resolutely ahead and to com- bacco company was equipped for formidable pete vigorously in every department of the rivalry. besides, the making and selling of tobacco trade. with hand upon heart, so tobacco was only a part of the business of to speak, it declared to the public that its the american tobacco company. manu- one dear object was to combat monopoly. facturing was a good cover to the issuing and before the agonized gaze of the retail trader, manipulating of securities from which the groaning and sweating under the screws of bulk of the great profits were derived, and the trust, the coming of the new company the men in the duke party knew very well was a joy unspeakable. to the persecuted that in the issuing and manipulating of se- consumer, who for some years had been no- curities the ryan-widener-elkins-root syn- ticing a decline in the quality of his tobacco, dicate had no equals in this world; also that there showed at last a promise of relief and to such experts $ , , of capital was as fair treatment. to break the monopoly- good a foundation as $ , , . a still that was the thing. mr. ryan, mr. widener, greater danger lay in the proved and un- and mr. root (whose sympathies against equaled power of the ryan party to influence monopoly in all its forms can be readily un- legislation and manipulate government-a derstood) bent themselves assiduously to matter of the first importance to the trust's this congenial task. and this is how they welfare. did it. for six months or less the gentlemen where did you get it, gentlemen ? m tax to the peace basis. it also determined to simplest operation of the smallest country make in the revenue laws certain changes that store. would be greatly to the benefit of the trust n or have we, by any means, seen the last and to the disadvantage of the trust's com- of this easy fortune-making. in june, , petitors. these were changes (difficult to the gentlemen in control, under the pre- make clear in this limited space) in the re- tense of extending to foreign and less favored strictions governing the sizes of packages, lands the blessings of the trust principle, changes that had the effect of enabling the formed a new concern, the consolidated to- trust to undersell makers of brands then on bacco company, and of course out came a the market by offering larger packages for new flood of water. the capital stock of the the same price. consolidated tobacco company was $ ,- knowledge of these impending changes was , , and it issued $ , , of four kept a profound secret-except from the men per cent. bonds, making its total capital- that controlled the trust. ization nearly $ , , . with these immediately these men went into the market fresh tokens of something from nothing it took and bought all the continental stock they over the american and the continental, giving could find. when they began to buy it was $ in four per cent. bonds for every $ of quoted at and was inert. unluckily, the american and $ in four per cent. bonds for time was short and they had no chance to every $ of continental. the public toler- work the device by which a man buys while ance being not yet exhausted, the same old he pretends to sell and thus keeps the price game was worked again on these issues, and from rising. the gentlemen were compelled, again the insiders, having knowledge of what for once, to buy outright, and after a time the was toward, picked up continental stock stock began to feel the effects. the price rose in advance and added further millions to to , , , ,—but not before, at bottom their vast hoards. prices, the gentlemen had secured vast loads how the trust now sailed for british of it. waters, how captain duke made a sad mess of his voyage, how the ship was rescued from an attacking party of englishmen that a great something for nothing threatened to sink her, and how she now sails they then prepared a new issue of con unmolested and taking toll on those busy seas tinent.' tobacco company bonds bearing are things not unfamiliar and not part of my five p .ent. interest. these bonds, they ar- story. what i desire to point out is that the ranged, should be exchangeable for continen- consolidated tobacco company is by no tal stock. means the last illustration of high finance that when all this was ready, out came ihe news these records afford. if i may be believed from washington that the revenue duties by the uninitiated, the device that had been were to be reduced, and up bounded the worked so often to the injury of the public prices of all tobacco stocks. and the ruin of the retailer was employed but the gentlemen that managed the trust again. on september , , there appeared had secured theirs beforehand, and they now a new american tobacco company, which, proceeded to exchange the stock they had se- with another flood of water, took over the cured at and thereabouts for bonds at , - consolidated, the continental, the old amer- an operation in which they cleared about ican, and all the rest of the outfit, and again $ , , . multiplied the capitalization on which the meantime, the capital stock of the ameri- country must furnish the profits. can tobacco company, which had been $ ,- ,ooo in , was nominally $ , , in who pays the interest? and with the subsidiary and other com- panies amounted to $ , , and more. for instance, the new company retired the with every desire to be temperate and $ , , of the consolidated company's fair, i am obliged to say that, so far as i can four per cent. bonds by giving one-half six per discover, the creating of this colossal some- cent. preferred stock in the new company and thing from nothing had involved no risk, no one-half four per cent. bonds. six per cent. effort, little or no investment, no development bonds were given for old american tobacco of any industry, no economic equivalent, and preferred stock at the rate of } a share, and no higher type of mentality than controls the for continental preferred at . besides all n everybody's magazine making machine these securities the new company had $ ,- chapter xii , of common stock of its own, and in the year of grace , on this stock thus the true dimensions of a great money- made of nothing, it paid per cent. in divi- dends. at the present time, the total capitalization i offer here for consideration two isolated of the whole enterprise, including the dummy, facts: subsidiary, fraudulent, decov, alias, stool- . at one o'clock on the morning of de- pigeon, and other companies is about $ ,- cember , , three hundred armed men rode , , all created from $ , , of into princeton, ky., seized the night-watch, speculative and paper assets put together by locked up the town's fire apparatus, and pro- captain duke and his friends in .. ceeded to burn two tobacco warehouses as an indication of how the thing has grown, owned by the tobacco trust. while the i quote figures from the american tobacco fires were under way the armed men were company alone, showing nine years expan drawn up in lines of defense about them and sion: prevented any attempt to extinguish the balance sheet liabilities flames. as soon as the warehouses were destroyed, the men released the watch and dec. , . dec. , . the fire apparatus and rode away. three preferred stock........ $ , , $ , , hundred thousand pounds of tobacco had common stock........ , , , , been burned. scrip................. , , .......... six per cent. bonds...... .......... , , the men engaged in this, outbreak of vio four per cent. bonds.... .......... , , lence were not bandits nor ruffians; they were profit and loss surplus.. , , , , peaceful farmers. they did not desire wan- all balance-sheet lia- bilities.............. , , , , tonly to destroy property; they : had been , , ° - ° goaded by extortions and fraud, against balance-sheet assets which they had no protection, to revenge themselves in the only way in their power real estate, etc......... $ , , patents and good-will... , , $ , , upon the men that had oppressed them. leaf tobacco and manu- . in april, , hermann beck, a well- facturing goods...... , , , , known retail tobacconist of portland, ore., stock of foreign com- having lost his once flourishing business, panies.............. , , , , stock of other compa- committed suicide. he had lost his busi- nies........ ....... , , ness because he had been driven out of it cash................. , , , , by the tobacco trust. , , , , the first of these incidents illustrates what the trust has done for the producer; the sec- so stands this colossal and astounding ond, what it has done for the retailer. the structure erected upon the good-natured tol- two being multiplied and extended indicate erance of the american people. the like where the money has come from that paid successful exploitation has never been known the dividends and interest on the watered in any land at any time. one of the men that american tobacco securities. have drawn golden fortunes from it, a man the united cigar stores company, a that in was penniless and harassed with branch of the trust, has more than retail debts, now counts more than $ , , , cigar stores in the country ( of them in made without labor, without effort, with- new york city), and speaking roughly, each out investment, without risk, without the of these represents a former retailer that has vestige of any return to society been deprived of his business. the method on the increasing mass of stocks and bonds, by which he has been deprived of it is one of the issuing of which has occasioned this the few operations of the trust that have man's fortune, there have been paid, and are been visible to the eyes of the layman. it now being paid, colossal sums in dividends is a process that most observant persons and interest charges. must have seen or known of—the little in- where do these dividends and interest dependent dealer overpowered and crushed charges come from and who pays them? by the big trust store next door-but few and now we reach the heart of the whole are aware, i suppose, of the tragedies that are matter. sometimes involved in the crushing. some bills receiv: ble. where did you get it, gentlemen ? on which liebman's store stood and bought the building. as soon as his term expired, the trust put him into the street with his stock and fixtures, which he was obliged to put into storage until he could find quarters at no. west th street. now he has to operate a barber's shop to make a living. this is a typical case; wherever the trust has appeared it has achieved similar triumphs; its pathway to success and profits has been over ruined tradesmen. on a certain stretch of broadway where ten years ago were thirty- six independent cigar stores are now but six; and the former proprietors of the other thirty are either salesmen for the trust, servitors, dependent for their bread upon whim, fancy, and caprice, subject to espionage and sus- picion, or they have sought other work, or they have died. and so the trust has wrought everywhere. the trust-sole buyer of tobacco of the crushed dealers have been old men, whose one source of livelihood lay in their little shops. some have been civil war vet- erans, some have been for many years in the one place and the one trade, some have been cripples and invalids. all have gone the one way when the trust started to capture their business. sometimes the trust has re- sorted to extreme measures to pull them down. it has induced their landlords to raise their rent to unendurable figures; it has bought the property they rented; very often it has pushed them to ruin by giving tobacco away or selling at prices that made compe- tition impossible. a certain broadway deals er that has for years bravely resisted the trust has been fought from two cigar stores adjoining him. for one of these the rental is $ , a year, which is more than the year's total sales in that store. on the morn- ing that this particular place opened, the man it was designed to crush walked into it and saw behind the counter four salesmen that had formerly been independent cigar- dealers and had been driven out of business by the trust. it was now using them to drive out others. such as are young and active among the ruined tradesmen can usu- ally find (for a time) employment with the trust, employment at small salaries and un- der humiliating conditions. the older men shift for themselves or go to the poorhouse. i do not know how many suicides like that of hermann beck have resulted from these operations. the remaining retailers say there have been very many. certainly beck's is not the only case. the whole his- tory of the development has been a story of cruel hardship. i will give one example, from many. a victim of monopoly joseph liebman kept for many years a cigar store at no. west th street, new york city. agents of the trust came to him about four years ago and told him that he had better retire from that neighborhood, as the trust was about to open a store there. lieb- man declined to move. the agent said that he would be crushed as other small dealers had been crushed before him. he replied that he had a good trade and plenty of strong friends and was not afraid of competition. the trust opened a store next door. lieb- man did not budge. the trust store began to give away cigars and tobacco. liebman held on. then the trust leased the ground as for the producer, that is a still more melancholy story. from time immemorial tobacco leaf had been sold in the tobacco- raising regions at the free competition of buyers. there was never any quoted price for tobacco as there is for wheat or cotton, but the farmers brought their tobacco to market and the buvers were wont to bid for it. the trust has changed all this, for now in a great part of the tobacco region there is but one buyer. the trust makes the price what it pleases, and the farmer must accept this price or take his tobacco home again. under the operation of this system, such tobacco as for years had brought in a free and open market six to eight cents a pound sells for three cents a pound or less. the land that had formerly produced $ to $ an acre now yields less than half of its former returns, and a distinguished kentuckian has calculated that in his state, because of the operation of the trust, the returns to the tobacco farmer are less than twenty cents a day for his labor. in four of the countries of europe-france, italy, austria, and spain-tobacco is a goy- ernment business, and these four governments buy in the united states every year about one million pounds of tobacco. the trust ar- ranged with the buyers for these governments that they should have a certain fixed territory in the south in which they might buy without opposition, provided they should buy nothing outside of that territory. p everybody's magazine when this arrangement was made it de- by the trust; you can hardly tell when you are stroyed the last chance of competition, and buying of the trust and when you are not. gave over the producer bound to his despoiler. great, glittering, brilliantly lighted stores, against these conditions the farmers of the cleverly worded advertisements, specious south have protested to congress, to the de- promises of low prices, attract and delude the partment of commerce and labor, and to consumer; it does not seem possible that bad the courts, for every step in the trust's pro- goods can come from such imposing places. ceedings has been wholly illegal and specific with much cunning the trust has brought ally prohibited. yet the law has never been into the business the influence of women. enforced upon this trust, nor has the gov- imitating the trading-stamp device, it holds ernment until lately given it any greater forth bribes in the shape of coupons that heed than is involved in some feeble, per- are exchangeable for articles of household functory, and quickly abandoned inquiries. use, and thus it induces women to urge their husbands to buy at trust stores. as the the business of brand-killing trust, by the use of inferior tobacco, by mak- ing large purchases, and by robbing the pro- meantime, there is the consumer, of whom ducer, has an abnormal margin of profit, it nobody seems to think much. what does can of course well afford these bribes. it mean for him that competition has been eliminated, that the profits of the american fortunes for the few tobacco company have been swollen to these colossal figures, that the owners of the trust so that herein at last is displayed in the are becoming the richest men in the world? clearest colors the exact meaning and results this is what it means for him: of the formula for wealth-making when that the trụst has secured the ownership of al- formula has done its perfect work. the bonds most every well-known brand of havana, key are issued, the stock is floated, the syndicate west, and domestic cigars, brands that have is enriched, the palace arises. and every been familiar for years upon years to all cent thus represented we furnish: we that smokers and that for years upon years have consume the tobacco, ship the freight, grow maintained an even degree of excellence. the crops, eat the beef, hang to the straps of many good judges of tobacco claim that the subway; we upon whose backs is piled under the names of these brands the trust the whole vast mass of watered stocks, puts forth steadily a worse quality of goods, fictitious bonds, fraudulent scrip, gambling until at last the brand dies. their theory is securities. and the only profit obtained by that before its death the trust has sold great society in all these operations is the spectacle quantities of the brand, these goods have of five or six men accumulating vast fortunes, been produced at perhaps one-third of the fortunes beyond computation, fortunes for a original cost, and the profits have been enor- few comprising the sum of available wealth mous. that should be for all. so far has this work been carried that such are the facts. sorry and stained and some of the brands of cigarettes and smoking- wretched, in the light of them, looks this par- tobaccos formerly best known have disappear- ticular palace among the golden houses of the ed entirely from the market. why should the fortunate. built out of the enforced contri- trust not do as it pleases in these matters? butions of the public, the steady violation of every day the consumer finds greater diffi- the law, the sweat of the defrauded farmer, culty in discovering a cigar store outside of the the blood of the small dealer, what interest trust; every day a greater proportion of has mankind in the mounting millions that it the retail business is seized by the trust. represents? or wherein have we gained from many stores that pretend to be independent its existence, we whose unexampled patience and do not fly the trust flag, are really owned renders all these things possible? " where did you get it, gentlemen ?” will be continued in the january number. everybody's magazine with the easy though somewhat artificial “they don'know nothin' about it an' never walk of her sort, the girl nonchalantly ap- will.” she beamed upon the girl. “i've proached the piano, and, tossing over a pile hoid many a fine singer,” she said sweetly, of sheet music, carefully selected a song. “an' i tell you, maggie, dear, you've got 'em spreading it open upon the rack of the piano, all beat a block. they ain' no knowin' tuh she seated herself before the instrument and what heights you'll climb wit' that voice o' played the introduction through twice. then yourn." she sang. “an' tuh think of her wastin' all these doyle listened raptly and with mingled years behind a counter!” cried mrs. timothy emotions-admiration, disappointment, and riordan indignantly. “it's a shame! that's hopelessness; and when, at length, she had what it is, all right, all right! a boinin' finished the three verses and the six choruses shame!” of the song, he rid his burdened breast of a “yes, ain't it?” returned the girl's mother sigh that was long and loud and heartfelt. cheerfully. “many's the time i told mr. “gee!” he exclaimed with awe. “ain't cassidy as we had a unknowed genius in our that great! ain't that immense!” he fam’ly. "patrick,' says i, ‘patrick,' i says, sighed again, a sigh that was even longer, ‘our darter ain't none o' this common clay,'i louder, and more heartfelt than its predeces says. “she's destinated fer great things,' says sor. i." she turned to her husband. “di'n' i, “when them big managers hears her," he patrick?" she demanded. thought dolefully, “it'll be all up wit' me. her husband opened one eye. “ain't we i won't have no more chanct o' marryin' her got nothin' tuh drink in de house?” he asked. 'n a rich man would o' duckin' through a his wife gave him a glance of withering camel's eye. ... gran'opera an’ nuttin' scorn. but he was witherproof. else f'r her-an' a lemon f'r me," and he “if we ain't,” he continued, “put a dime in sighed yet again. th' big pail an' send robert immitt over to most of the others in the little audience shaughnessy's. maggie'll lend youse de were as appreciative as doyle; and they gave money." and he closed his eye again. themselves over heartily to expressing their mrs. cassidy surveyed him in deep and admiration. utter disgust. "ain't that singin' jes' grand?” inquired “that's him," she cried tragically, “allus mrs. malachi o'grady, folding fat hands on thinkin' about his stummick! an' forgettin' a comfortable embon point. “why, i di'n' that he has a progeny f'r a darter! " with know maggie had it in her!” infinite self-restraint she held herself from tell- she stopped to scowl unutterable things at ing her husband for the hundredth time that her much whiskered spouse, who was mut- day what she thought of him, and, remember- tering something about being glad “it was out ing her duties as hostess, turned conversation- of her at last," and continued, “why, she's ally to her guests. got them gran' operer singers skun a mile.' i “we got a gran' costume f'r maggie,” she s'pose in a year or so we'll be goin' down tuh said. “it's a jet gownd, cut decolletay. we the operer house tuh hear maggie sing an’then got it at one o' them stores where all them so- come home an' tell each other how we use’ tuh ciety women sends their clothes which they know her in them days when she di’n’amount don't never wear more 'n oncet an' then to nothin' an' her father use' tuh make her throws away. an' they're jes' as good as rush the can,” and she beamed about, happy new. we've made the skoit short-maggie's in her prophetic fancies. goin' tuh dance, too, yuh know-an' it “she cer'nly is so’thin' won'erful,” com- cer'nly's a dream." mented mrs. delia slattery enthusiastically. “when is she goin' tuh make her deebue?” "ain't she, mike?” and she turned for cor- inquired mrs. riordan. roboration to her worse half, who was sitting “she's goin' on at the next amachure night on the middle of his spine with an unlit cigar at the pavilion,” replied the proud mother. between his lips. “the manager's give her a gran' place on the “i has hoid woise,” admitted her husband bill." grudgingly. “what's a amachure night?” queried old mrs. slattery scowled at him for an instant. mrs. conolly. “men ain't got no appreciation for reel mrs. cassidy gazed at her in patient pity. music, anyhow," she commented caustically. “amachure night,” she explained painstak- everybody's magazine home of the gods, the rest of the house only with one swing of his arm he drove the or- too willingly broke into a roar of scornful chestra into a scared heap beside the piano. abuse and biting comment. and then high in another instant his foot was on the key- above all the tumult came the shrill cry so board, his heavy hand on the piano top, and dreaded of amateur-night performers: he had vaulted on to the stage. “git th’ hook! git th' hook!” the large stage-hand had just time to swing the hook, be it known, is a sort of shep- at him once with the hook when doyle's fist herd's crook with which the unpopular en- struck on one ear and he tumultuously joined tertainer of amateur night is removed from the orchestra in a heap beside the piano. the stage. a second later doyle had his arms about the obedient to the demands of his insistent girl and she was sobbing bitterly, brokenly, clientèle, the management “got the hook," upon the shoulder of the hired dress suit. and a large, lumpy stage-hand, with a jaw like the audience, at the sudden turn of affairs, a cobblestone, came forth from the wings to had stopped its wild shriekings for the hook apply it to the helpless girl now beginning to and was watching with silent intentness the sob in weak hysteria. unexpected happenings taking place before it. throughout it all doyle had been sitting the way in which doyle had handled the clutching the arms of his chair. that any stage-hand had won its admiration. the bit one could fail to admire maggie was utterly of romance had won its sympathies. it was beyond his comprehension. that any one the psychological moment for the strategist to could speak unkindly to her or criticize her rise to unknown heights of public favor. but was unthinkable. and that an entire audi- doyle was no strategist. he was a man, and ence could abuse and revile and torture one a lover. and he was mad—mad through and in whom he could see no flaw-one who was through. to him in every way the absolute perfection he turned to the audience. holding the of womanhood-left him stupefied, bewil- girl to his breast with his left arm, he clenched dered, helpless. his right fist and shook it at the dusky mass of but when he saw the hook, his self-posses- indistinct faces across the footlights. sion returned to him, and that far more sud- “dam' ver!” he cried from between denly than it had left him. the hook was as clenched teeth. “dam’yer! ye're a crowd a red rag to a bull; and, with a deep, choking o' cowards an' four-flushers! they ain't a bellow of rage, doyle leaped from his chair. man among yer! ye're all right tuh set there ex dant the conflicting sentiment in the house grew frenzied. fuming little stories of real life by edwin l. sabin the return of santa claus “and daggers and sleds and " “an' noahzarks?" from swords and daggers to noah's arks is a long stretch, but remembering the scope of come “kid,” your contemporary, but, ah, santa claus's magic pack, you may answer d grown so worldly-wise, said shrilly: assuredly: “aw, there ain't no santy claus!” and “yes, indeed; noah's arks " after a few struggles santa claus, it seemed, “an' gum-drops an' lemon-sticks?" died. that was almost twenty years ago, “yes, every kind of candy and every kind yet now here he is again, revivified! done to of toy!” death (as it appeared) by youth, youth has “isn't there a mamma santy claus?" resurrected him. good old santa, thus to memory falters. a“mamma santa claus" bob up serenely, and to accept for his sponsor does not appeal as a part of your original even such a renegade as yourself! conception. however, in the light of your without, grim-toothed, pitiless winter be- own experience she does appeal as quite sets you hard, trying door and window, thrust necessary, and you rather owe it to santa ing prowling fingers into every crack; within, claus to assign him such happiness. the traditional evening lamp spreads its “yes, there's a mamma santa claus." beams, and in the grate sturdily glows the the littlest one sighs luxuriously. fire, holding winter at bay. clad in his “i wish i was their little boy." pink flannel pajamas, wide-eyed upon your the gentle one, listening with amused knee, bids the littlest one: smile as her needle leads a silken thread “tell me 'bout santy claus.” hither and thither to weave some wondrous upturning the sod of memory, you tell him. pattern, queries with sudden jealousy: “santa claus lives away off at the north “aren't you glad you're our little boy?” pole "—you congratulate yourself that the “y-yes.” initial setting sounds strictly orthodox—“and the littlest one wriggles, torn between all the year he is busy making toys and candy cupidity and filial love. and—-" “but you are santa claus's little boy, if “swords?” you are good. all the good little boys in the the littlest one is born to be an illustrious world are santa claus's little boys." general; martial is his disposition. the littlest one takes time to ponder “yes, swords and pistols- ” upon the remark. “an’ daggers ?” “go on," he commands at last. little stories of real life “well," she says. “once upon a time, very quiet it is, for a few minutes. all the ever and ever and ever so many years ago, world seems hushed while, safe from winter, there was born a little boy just like you— " in the lamplight before the glowing fire, upon “just like me?" repeats the littlest one. somebody's lap the littlest one drifts to “yes, just like you. and he was born- slumberland. rocking contentedly, the gentle where do you think? out in a stable, among one croons a lullaby: the cows!” “o little town of bethlehem, “didn't the cows bite him?” quavers the how still we see thee lie! littlest one anxiously. above thy deep and dreamless sleep "no, the cows didn't bite him. they the silent stars go by; loved him." yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting light; “was he santy claus's little boy?" the hopes and fears of all the years “n-no, he wasn't santa claus's little bov, are met in thee to-night! but he was born on christmas day. and— " “for christ is born of mary; “were chris'mus day an' his birſday all and gathered all above, the same?" while mortals sleep, the angels keep again cupidity is manifesting itself in the their watch of wond'ring love. littlest one. the disadvantage of having o morning stars! together proclaim the holy birth— " christmas and birthday come together is vaguely dawning upon him. the littlest one's eyes are fast sealed; “there wasn't any christmas, then. that the lids unclose not. the crooner looks was before christmas. across at you, and sig- but he was such a good nificantly smiles. she little boy, and he grew rises. up such a good man in his pink flannel [by reason of the limita- pajamas the littlest tions of her audience one, unconscious of the the gentle one is nec- liberty being taken with essarily also limited in him, is borne to bed. expression, and we are so thankful that god the chubby stock- gave him to the world, ings are much chub- that we celebrate his bier, swelled by a birthday and we call it strange affliction of christmas. what do lumps and knobs. a you think was his rocking-horse has mi- raculously appeared “santy claus.” upon the tiles, together a slight incoherence with a sled and a large is noticeable in the curly dog. the grate- littlest one's articula- fire has faded to a dull tion — the response is crimson, and the lit- mechanical and mur- tlest one would realize murous. that santa claus might "no, not santa alight upon it without claus. it was jesus. danger. the last foot- around about is the expi:ctant, holy don't you remember steps, homeward-bound that mamma has told from festivity, have you about jesus, the friend of all little chil- passed; only old winter's tread crackles, as dren because he was a little child himself ?” he maintains his round, ceaseless and futile. "santy claus. come, santy claus." from the littlest one's quarters emerges a the littlest one is far gone, and 'tis quite liquid babbling; the gentle one steals up, useless to wrestle with his evident worldliness and steals down again. the gentle one adapts herself accordingly "dreaming," she vouchsafes. -and at the same time adapts her lap. with a shy side glance, and a blush, she “yes, darling,” she encourages. “santa slips à package into your stocking. claus is coming." “you mustn't look,” she admonishes. name?” stillness of christmas eve everybody's magazine you slip something into hers. "the natural reaction from such an evening “and you mustn't, either,” you return. as we have had. we are a little jaded of your arm encircles her waist, and thus nerves. then, too, we have the stage setting united you stand, you and she, without speak- which recalls the supernatural-an old house, ing. round about is the expectant, holy just opened after long vacancy, firelight, a stillness of christmas eve. but before the dying moon, and the hours before day.” his fireplace you are not waiting for santa claus; voice seemed softer than usual. no. he has come; already has he entered presently young powell, the englishman, your hearts, at the call of the littlest one. was speaking: “it is a singular thing about this house. at home, we'd scarcely call it old, you know. they say it was built only in or there- as to the blind abouts. yet it's ripened and colored with life like an old meerschaum.” by will irwin “the glory of our west,” i heard judge marvin say. “not so old in years as your judge marvin, with his reverence for english houses, but just as old in the human things ancient and historic, had bought march. i was born before san francisco was the old spanish hacienda de los gatos, founded, yet san francisco is three hundred long disused, and had made it over for his years old in spirit. so with this house. the country house. to the housewarming, he in- spaniards built it, and it has seen a whole vited a company selected for their appreciation people die. isn't it entitled to its ghost?" of his fancy_lovers all of the ways and tradi- i do not remember how long we were silent tions which spain left to california. later, after that. ... judge marvin said, he would have the young, “perhaps this house has its ghost," said the careless, the people of to-day; but for señora ulistac from her seat beyond the fire- this festival of renewals he wanted those screen. we turned to her; she had not spo- whom years or art had softened into har- ken before. she was sitting forward on a mony with the crumbled adobe, the long couch, and out of direct light from the fire. jasmine vines, the worn sun-dial, and the now and then, a spurt of flame would reveal stately ceilings of his hacienda. something of her little graceful head, her all day and nearly all night, we had dwelt coarse black hair, and the flower-like gentility with beauty and the past. now it was very of her attitude. never did it reveal her alto- late, and we had sat long before the great gether; the uncertain light merely touched stone fireplace, whose burning driftwood, our one feature after another, suggesting the rest. only light, pierced the far corners with strange, i remember how my artistic sense was grate- metallic shadows. a chill of dawn came in ful for that; it made a harmonious whole through the open windows; and a coyote, with her soft, plaintive voice. a wonderful beast of the devil, was howling out in the dis- woman, such as only castile could make and tance. from old tales, the conversation had angleland love enough; mature now, but also fallen off to silence; for minutes we had all forever virginal. sat and stared into the fire, each dreading lest h er voice held us all. i felt, too, a little some one should make that first move which thrill, a catch in my throat. the gaieties of might close an evening of such pleasant and mrs. collins on the subject of ghosts, the in- perfect communion. i remember that i was tellectual speculation of judge marvin, had in a half sleepy state; yet hardly was it the produced no such effect. doubtless, the drowsiness which precedes normal sleep. it señora was moved, i thought; and i specu- was as though weariness had dropped a slight lated idly on the strange power of emotion to veil over my five senses. produce emotion. mrs. collins, gay, talkative, fanciful, was a log shifted in the fire. the room became of course the first to break silence. bright, and afterward fell to a deeper black- “why, how thoughtful and serious we've grown!” she said. “it is the time for ghost “tell me,” pursued señora ulistac, "if a stories!” ghost should come among you now, would judge marvin, who needed only a touch you be frightened?” upon his conversational elbow to set him gen- mrs. collins, i noticed, huddled closer to eralizing in any direction, cleared his throat. the fire. ness. everybody's magazine purchase. the boulevard des capucines, and him he fol- mufflers. one was gray, and he rejected it lowed for several paces, pleading and praying scornfully. not because it was too dear for in the highest name for some money. and him-oh, no! he told the proud assistant the opulent one stopped and fumbled in his so. he looked poor, perhaps, but-well, he pocket, while the beggar waited with a dog- wanted a gayer color. that purple one, for like air of expectancy. a small coin was instance. three francs fifty? h'm, and that pressed into his palm-fifty yellow one? two francs. centimes! thought the beggar, yes, that would do. the and he called down blessings beggar coughed as if his according to value received. throat were shattering. yes, the opulent one walked on, to-morrow he would buy a and the beggar moved toward neckcloth. most certainly. a lamp that he might assure and after that? now it himself of his money. ten was necessary, he told him- sous wasn't a bad haul; that, self, to consider matters together with the five - sou thoroughly, and realize just piece that a lady had given what he could buy. he would him, and odd ten - centime go through everything in his pieces, made up a franc. mind. of course he would enough until to-morrow. have a drink or two. some- he came under the lamp, thing warm and grateful. and looked at the coin. sacré they sold excellent white ab- nom de dieu! was it his sinthe at durot's in the rue fancy? was the light turn- degas. thirty centimes and ing the coin yellow? was this as much sugar as you wanted. really a twenty-franc piece? then that would give him an he looked closer. it was a appetite for déjeuner. the wondering what he should louis! there was the na- café des cochers in the same poleon's head, and there was street served a good meal, he francs engraved on the scroll on the ob- believed. he had the pickings free some- verse side. it was a louis! twenty francs! times, and very good pickings they were. more than twenty times as much money as say one franc twenty-five. that would make he had in his pocket. more money than he a trifle over three francs fifty. after dinner a had ever held between his fingers. smoke. why, he could afford good ca poral he wrapped the coin up in a dirty rag that tobacco at fifty centimes the packet, and the served as a pocket-handkerchief, and sham- best cigarette papers. or why not buy a bled away. the sergents de ville, it seemed, pipe? not a common clay, but a tolerably looked at him with suspicion. suppose good briar for a franc. that would be they arrested him for loitering? they would quite enough extravagance for one day. he search him. they would find this twenty- thought he would spread the enjoyment of his franc piece on him, and they wouldn't believe riches over four or five days. him—who would ?-if he said that it was he fell asleep, and by the smile on his face given him in charity. oh, they were a disbe- many a man or woman that night would lieving lot, those sergents de ville! he walked have paid twenty times his twenty francs for along, looking at no one, lest there should arise his dreams. in his eyes a suggestion of his great wealth. in the chill morning, when the street- he kept his hand on his pocket, clasped sweepers were yet at work, and the boule- tightly over the rag containing the louis, until vards were bleak and bare of people, he he came to a certain doorway, in a side street awoke. some of the larger cafés still had near the madeleine, where he knew he could their lights burning—they were preparing for sit down and think, for there all was dark and the early customers the petit déjeûner, having quiet. packed the night customers to their homes. to begin with, what should be done with the beggar shuffled down a street that cut twenty francs? he could buy a woolen into the place de la concorde and made for neckcloth; that would be good. how much? the riverside. a commis, going to work, im- he imagined himself in a shop of which he pressed by the early sight of poverty, gave him knew, over the river, inspecting the stock of a copper. the beggar smiled. if the clerk what is a good man? a symposium by archbishop ireland thomas w. lawson h, g. wells general count katsura professor edward alsworth ross come will the lor erstborn for wherewith shall i come before the lord, and bow myself before the high god ? shall j come before him with burnt offerings, with calves of a year old ? will the lord be pleased with thousands of rams, or with ten thousands of rivers of oil ? shall i give my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul ? Þe bath shewed thee, man, what is good; and what doth the lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy god ? the edi- - an enrich- tor had ment of read that morning of a doctor who one's experience of life. had died in bellevue hospital the he was really very deeply im- previous evening, and the brief de- pressed; all day the subject persisted tails of the man's life recorded a in his mind. so it was not so irrele- story of extraordinary self-sacrifice vant as it sounded that he should star- and devotion. he might have been a fa- tle the editorial conclave by seriously inquir- mous man with a millionaire clientele, but ing: “has any of you ever known a good he had been only an overworked physician man?” “why?” asked one of the group, after practising in a poverty-stricken quarter of the a pause. “what is a good man, anyway?” lower east side of new york. patients he “there's — ," said another, mentioning had had in droves—the wives, the children, the name of a big wall street man who had the fathers of the most overcrowded plot of rendered striking service in the recent finan- god's earth. he had worked night and day. cial crisis. “i should think he figures out as all that skill and genius which had caused good according to the average standard. he his class at the medical college to regard him works hard and has succeeded honestly. he as its most promising member had been goes to church on sundays, contributes liber- freely bestowed on the unfortunate. he had ally to foreign missions and the y. m. c. a., lived humbly in a tenement flat, on call day neither smokes nor drinks, stays home at and night, and in that swarming human hive nights, and is decent to his wife and children." there had seldom been an hour in which some “all that and much more is true of john one of his suffering people had not demanded d. rockefeller, the most generous man in the his service. literally, this man had put aside world,” objected the editor; "yet you'll all the joys and prides of the flesh and had hardly put forth the president of standard oil devoted himself to unremunerated service. as a good man.” thinking over all that this record involved “what about my janitor?” came from of generosity, of discomfort, of self- the next man. "he's dead square in abnegation, the editor had a convic- all his dealings, does his work faith- tion that this physician must truly fully. ours is the best-run apartment- have been a rarely good man and house i've ever lived in. he supports that to have known well such a his wife's old father, and has two of man would his sister's have meant children liv- what is a good man? man?" ing with a in an interior him. yes, city whose he does drink a bit, but not more talent is so distinguished that one of than is fair. isn't he a mighty good the great firms in new york offered him a partnership. this man has “what's the matter with all of exhausted the possibilities of his pres- us?” here interrupted the man who ent environment. to accept would had asked for a definition of a good man. have meant happiness to him, and might “we are making good on our jobs, we are have meant new shapes of beauty to gladden sober, we tell the truth, live decent lives. the eyes of many millions. but he has an how much more do you want, anyway?” elder sister who gave her youth to toil to it seemed to the editor that goodness- obtain for him the education he coveted. real goodness-is something more than liv- now in her later years she has only her home ing up to one's human obligations. so he and her friends. her transplantation to a said: “all of you have confused respectabil- great strange city would entail the surrender ity with goodness. let me tell you of a man of that atmosphere which is her life. the who died last night.” man refused the chance. there is the sac- “but that doctor was a hero and a devotee," rifice of a great career, and the world is the objected the art editor, when the editor poorer therefor. is he a good man? had finished his tale. “you can prove noth- let us take the instance of — , who made ing by him. he is a counsel of perfection.” some five millions in a tricky deal. two “suppose some man with a wife and millions of his winnings he employed in family and a business depending on him, erecting a model tenement in the ghetto, in should attempt to follow such a precedent? which a hundred families find comfortable would he be a good man?” inquired another. housing. the newspapers advertise him as goodness—it's a complex proposition a philanthropist-is he a good man? isn't sometimes its ultimate seems to be found in such a benefaction mere restitution? yet self-abnegation; but abstinence per se is a who can deny that the hundred families im- barren form of virtue. to live in a desert, mensely benefited? andrew carnegie is in- sequestered from one's fellow beings, scourg- vesting the proceeds of some extraordinary ing one's body, fasting and praying, may and successful ventures in iron and steel in be the routine for saintship, but how does carnegie libraries and hero funds, and is gain- the hermit enrich the world or his kind? ing the return he desires in present fame and the monk's office is the subjugation of his future immortality. but despite his strutting own body for the benefit of his own soul and posturing, is he not playing a big part is it not the other man's soul that counts? in educating this generation and those to fol- one can conceive of no lives nobler than low? is not that great service? those of the ministers and priests whose days the farther one presses the problem, the are spent in visiting the sick, succoring the deeper is one involved in contradictions. the widow and the orphan, finding work for the president demands of a good man that he unemployed, encouraging the struggler. this must be able to hold his own in rough con- is surely the very soul of christian service, flict with his fellows: it is god's work, and these are god's soldiers. “no man is worth much to the commonwealth all honor to those that have the courage to if he is not capable of feeling righteous wrath and enlist. but the average man, who, having just indignation; if he is not stirred to hot anger by given hostages to fortune, finds his com- misdoing, and is not impelled to see justice meted out to the wrongdoers.” pelling duty the housing, feeding, and clothing of wife and children, how must he life is more complex than it was. the comport himself in the workaday world to growth of population, compelling closer re- rank as a good man? if his service is no lations between individuals, the creation of greater than making some woman great manufacturing interests that and some home happy, does he ful- have concentrated millions of men in fil his whole obligation? does he cities, the increasing fierceness of owe nothing to that greater family, competition between commercial or- humanity? ganizations fighting for supremacy- there is all have an architect brought what is a good man? · and purpose - an infidel.” become the good pleasure and personal aggrandize- man is ever mindful of his family. ment. intellectual concepts of mo- nothing, whatever else is done for rality, unsupported by a living au- society or for country, makes up for thority from which there is no escape, the neglect of the home. the good do not build up the strong soul, able man provides for the material and to beat down the rising billows of tempta- moral wants of wife and children; he is kind tion and to impose silence upon the wild and loving: while the master in authority, he clamorings of passion. human interests, in is the servant in ministration. . the last analysis, reveal themselves as selfish say what some will, tolerate as they may interests. the service of society or of hu- what civil law reluctantly tolerates, the in- manity at large, so freely invoked by a school dissolubility, as well as the oneness, of the sac- of modern philosophy, is a misty dream, from ramental tie of wedlock remains not only the which the sin-burnt heart turns in derision. dictate of the christian religion, but also the the good man will be a devout worshiper natural and necessary protection of the family of the almighty: he will be a religious man hearthstone. where the good man rules, true he will kneel often in adoration and prayer; and faithful, benignant and forbearing, there he will seek out in earnest study the law of is seldom need even of separation; where the supreme master, and will loyally con separation is deemed urgent, it must never be form to it in his private and social life. supplemented by the rupture of the marital the good man has his duties to himself. bond. that he is a good husband and a good chief among these is the utter cleanliness of father is one of the highest encomiums before heart, the righteousness of the inner soul. god and men that the good man may am- mere exterior morality is a sham and a bition or hope for. pretense. it does not last: it withstands no the good man's relations with his fellow- severe trial. at best, it is a hypocrisy, a lie men within the social organism will be char- acted out by the man himself, an effort to acterized by absolute justice and charity. deceive his fellow men. “avoid evil.” do no harm to rich or to clean of heart, the good man will be clean poor. be honest and honorable. the acqui- of mouth. vulgar and obscene language, sition of wealth, be it of one dollar, or of a oaths, and blasphemies will never pollute his million dollars, is praiseworthy when it fol- speech. he will be clean of act, respecting lows upon industry, the use of high talent, his body as the very handiwork of god. he the vigilant observation of opportunity. to will be clean of hand, never reaching out to be poor through slothfulness, wastefulness, the things that are not his by strictest rules of or wilful ignorance, is a sin and a disgrace. social justice. the good man will not be but, throughout, justice must prevail: nothing the lazy and indolent servant; he will improve must be taken that belongs legitimately to his mind by thoughtful study; he will im- others: no methods must be employed that prove, as circumstances permit, his condition law and equity reprove. “avoid evil; do in life, bringing into active exercise the good.” when acquired, wealth must be put latent talents given to him by the creator, to good use. let it, indeed, serve in fair that they be developed and put to profit. he abundance the owner and his dependents. will be brave in effort, resigned in failure, let it be stored up in view of future contin- calm and self-possessed in success. gencies. to reduce the use of wealth to mere “thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” necessities, to put the rich in this regard on man is necessarily a social being: he has the plane of the less successful, is to eliminate absolute need of others. altruism, the love from society the spirit of enterprise, to of the neighbor, is imposed upon him by his smother in the human breast the promptings very nature, and by the author of that nature, to hard work and to sacrifice of ease and the almighty god. the neighbor pleasure. but in its exuberance means family, society, country. wealth must go beyond the owner “and if any man have not care and the owner's family. it must of his own,” says st. paul, “especially never be forgotten that society is not for those of his house, he hath denied without claims upon one's surplus the faith and revenue. is worse than the miserly everybody's magazine ist and look y have a mind forward to exercised the time when the economic machin- finely and flexible and alert, he will ery of the community will not be a not be a secretive man. secretiveness field for private enrichment but for and secret planning are vulgarity, and public service. men and women need to be educated, he will be good to his wife and chil- and he will be educated, out of them. dren as he will be good to his friends, but he he will be intensely truthful, not simply in will be no partisan for wife and family against the vulgar sense of not misstating facts when the common welfare. his solicitude will be pressed, but truthful in the manner of the for the welfare of all the children of the com- scientific man or the artist, and as scornful munity; he will have got beyond blind in- of concealment as they; truthful, that is to stinct, he will have the intelligence to under- say, as the expression of a ruling desire to stand that almost any child in the world may have things made plain and clear, because have as large a share as his own offspring in that so they are most beautiful and life is at the parentage of his great-great-grandchil- its finest. ... dren. his wife he will treat as his equal a nd all that i have written of him applies - he will not be “kind” to her, but fair and word for word, with only such changes of gen- frank and loving, as one equal should be with der as are needed, to the woman citizen also. another; he will no more have the imperti- nence to pet and pamper her, to keep painful and laborious things out of her knowledge, to "shield” her from the responsibility of political and social work, than he will to make an epigrammatic composite a chinese toy of her and bind her feet. he and she will love that they may enlarge and by thomas w. lawson not limit each other. author of " frenzied finance." consciously and deliberately the good citizen will seek beauty in himself and in his ours is an age of individualism. every way of living. he will be temperate rather man king, with the king's prerogative of than harshly abstinent, and he will keep him- whittling out the yardstick by which his own self fit and in training as an elementary duty, goodness is to be measured. on this count he will not be a fat nor an emaciated person. there are in america almost as many good fat panting men and thin enfeebled ones men as there are grown males, but as no cannot possibly be considered good citizens, two of their yardsticks are alike, the true any more than dirty or verminous people. measure must be some sort of average of all he will be just as fine and seemly in his of them. person as he can be, not from vanity and self- i have known clergymen and statesmen, assertion, but to be pleasing and agreeable to a lot of dollar-charmers and penny-a-liners, his fellows. the ugly dress and ugly bearing and some gamblers and horse-traders, who of the “good men” of to-day will be as in- were good men, when you allowed them to comprehensible to him as the filth of a manipulate at least one end of the divining- paleolithic savage is to us. he will not rod, while every woman i have known was speak of his "frame" and hang clothes like so good that i contracted eyeache trying to sacks over it; he will know and feel that he locate her wing joints. but i have never and the people about him have wonderful and known a good man whose goodness lay not beautiful bodies. in some excess of credits over debits on a and—i speak of the ideal common citizen balance-sheet of which his own conscience -he will be a student and a philosopher. was auditor. to understand will be one of his necessary having made a special study of polished duties. his mind, like his body, will bad men, i early discovered that be fit and well clothed. he will not many gems--misplaced, perhaps, but be too busy to read and think, though yet gems-entered into their make- he may be too busy to rush about to ups, and i can do no better than get ignorantly and blatantly rich. it give to everybody's readers my idea follows that of the good since he will man as i what is a good man? have con- bits from his structed it neighbors' out of the treasures rescued from the ears, but neither does he allow them base metals of such souls. to mix omelets in his headgear. he every good man says “may i?” knows two and two make four, not to the weak and “i will” to the three or eleven. he deals from the strong, and he never forgets that his top, gives the other fellow his cut, body, as well as his soul, is his charge, which never welches on the kitty, but he does insist must be returned undefiled. upon checks being redeemed at pot value. a good man approaches a king on his feet no good man ever gets his gambling and and women on his knees. he curses and his business money tangled, or his bible and commands in prose, and grants and courts his card-case mixed, or ever drops an unre- in poetry. deemed poker-chip into the contribution-box. he wears a brake on his passions, and a good man shivers when left alone with gears his love to the sun, the moon, and the his success. “here's to the next bout,” is a stars. toast he keeps on tap for his failures. a good man dedicates his heart and soul a good man crosses himself, as, at mid- to his wife, his conscience to his mother, and night, he gazes up at god's daisy-field, and his very being to his country. with the ecstasy of a child in imagination he a good man loves children and horses, and sails the swirling clouds as the lightnings flash the dogs mistake him for the santa claus of and the thunders crash. their fireside dreams. steal a good man's dreams and he will yell good men's clubs always have a wife or "murder”; make off with his purse and you mother for steward, and children for bell- will hear him whistling, “there is more where boys. that came from.” no good man ever asked the old folks from when country calls, good men hear the echo the country to present their visiting-cards at though it comes to them in the bowels of the servants' hall during receptions. the earth, on the mountain peaks, or in the the good man engraves his friendships on middle of the ocean; and instantly they find his own heart, his hatred on his enemies', wings. and keeps all edges sharp and all lines deep a good man always votes, first removing his until death. hat. an all-round good man picks his antag- a good man knows a liar would be a thief onists with extreme care, and follows them or a murderer if he had the nimbleness and to the grave to get their location in hell for the nerve. future use. good men kneel to god, the flag, their a rattling good man counters the com- mothers, and their children's mothers. mand “turn the other cheek” with “an a good man carries no brass drum to eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth,” and church, and burns no candles trying to re- he speaks to blackguards and bullies with his write the ten commandments. fist instead of his tongue. a good man keeps in mind when traveling a good man is always sorry for his own the cradle-to-the-grave turnpike that he can tininess and glad of the other fellow's big- carry through the ferry-gate only what his ness. mother brought in over the toll-bridge, and he measures his wants by his possessions refuses to load up as he journeys. and his friends' necessities; he knows no hun- a good man can swim the styx if he misses ger or thirst, no happiness while his women- the ferry. folks or his friends seek, and he insists that he is one who talks in the “i-think”- the obligation of his friend be written in chalk “you-know” language. while he styluses his own in indelible ink. he writes i small and you large, yells after making a promise a good “them” and whispers “me.” man never sleeps until he has ful- an ai good man is mighty skittish filled it. about life, but settled and ready at all a good man seldom has three eves, times to shake hands with death. and abominates double-decked sleeves. when a good man is undecided, he he never ex- recalls that he tracts rab- w is here for a a nation of villagers oil trust were a terrible discovery of his form of industrial laissez faire, or let it own. the facts were not new to me, nor to rip. if you point out these facts to an any of the writers with whom i was associated american, he first puts you in the stocks for as editor of the essays. what clarke, though mentioning improper subjects, and then he had traveled and lectured in america, did thanks heaven that america is purified not fully realize, was the stupendous dense- and protected from all such old-world ness of the americans' ignorance of their filth by those two straight questions to all own country—the childishness which enables comers: are you an anarchist? are you a them to remain simple new england villagers polygamist? in the complicated hustle of new york and what are we europeans to do with such a chicago, never revising their ideas, never people? how are we to govern them? how enlarging their consciousness, never losing are we to establish the anti-monroe doc- their interest in the ideals of the pilgrim trine, now clearly necessary to the world's fathers. a year or two ago, however, it welfare, that all americans must be entirely suddenly occurred to them that the village disfranchised and declared incapable of pub- shopkeeper was in difficulties. to their sym- lic employment or office, and their country pathetic inquiries he replied that “the trust" taken over, regulated, and governed by us? was to blame. and so the simple villagers such a measure would, of course, not apply said: "how wicked! let us put the trust in to the negroes, who are reported a com- the stocks at once.” and that is what they paratively well-mannered, serviceable, rea- are trying to do at present, not having yet sonable race. probably the best plan would noticed that the trust is too strong, the be some modification for the white american stocks too small, and standard oil none the of the reservation system now applied to the dearer or harder to get. red indian. i have myself observed the in- american political naiveté would be inex- dian cheekbone reappearing in the american; haustibly amusing if the results of it were and they tell me that a party of americans not so tragically serious. like all villagers, passing along the street instinctively walk in the american believes everything he sees in single file. also, they torture their enemies the papers, and sums up all social peril under in the philippines; but let me be just and the heads of anarchism and free love. he admit that they do not scalp them-at least feels that he must take steps to put down not yet. these two heresies. accordingly, he asks b ut as europe is not yet prepared to take everybody who wants to come to america america in hand, hoping, perhaps, that ja- the two questions: are you an anarchist? pan will save it the trouble, there is nothing are you a polygamist? and the emigrant's to be done at present but look on at the tragi- reply is, “certainly not, sir. i assure you i comedy of the virtuous villager and the bold would not think of such a thing," whereupon bad trust, and to try neither to despair of america solemnly says, “then you may humanity nor to laugh. after all, america come in.” a european child of six can see is not submitting to the trusts without a that the effect of this infantile precaution is struggle. the first steps have already been not to exclude anarchists and free lovers, taken by the village constable. he is no but to make sure that they shall be liars as doubt preparing a new question for emi- well. you exclude martin luther, who de- grants: “do you approve of trusts?” but fended polygamy on principle; and you ex- pending this supreme measure of national clude kropotkin, who professes anarchism, defense he has declared in several states that and is none the less a valuable asset to eng- trusts will certainly be put in the stocks and land and a serious loss to his own country. whipped. it is to be hoped for his own sake you admit the profligate nobleman with his that he will not be as silly as his word, be- steam yacht carrying a cargo of half a dozen cause as the village shopkeeper has already ladies; and you admit whole cargoes of czol- either put up the shutters and become an goszes. also, you manufacture free love employee of the trust, or converted his shop at home on such a scale that i can buy it in into a "tied house" completely dependent any american city as easily as i can buy a on it, the constable, if he succeeds in stocking typewriter; whilst as for anarchism, the the trust, will presently be reduced to eating american constitution as interpreted by the his own boots in the absence of any other supreme court and by popular opinion is provisions. simply a charter of anarchism in its worst i write with a sort of desperate levity be- everybody's magazine cause i feel how useless it is to attempt to brigand, a tyrant, an octopus, a hydra, a explain the matter in an american magazine. bluebeard. if you come to that, the village the only result would be a discussion on the shopkeeper often enough finds his biography utterly irrelevant and trivial question whether ready written for him in bunyan's "life and i am serious, without a word as to the vitally death of mr. badman.” besides, the moral important question whether the solid facts i comparison is not to the point. louis xi. am dealing with are serious. was not so amiable a person as louis xvi. were i writing for european readers i or president garfield; but he was enormously should explain the situation somewhat in this more beneficent politically than either of fashion: when a country has to be newly them. my deceased colleague, william cleared and settled by casual ambitious col- clarke, pointed out in the very essay i have onists without any common industrial tra- referred to, that the thrones of capable scoun- dition or body of custom, and society is in drels are built on the rock, and those of silly the village stage, the anarchical plan of let- philanthropists and amiable nincompoops on ting every man mind his own business and the sand. do the best he can for himself is the only if the trust magnates were ten times practicable one. the guarantee, such as it wickeder men than the village shopkeepers is, against cheating, adulteration, and over- -and there is no evidence that they are at charge in the shops, is the competition of the all wickeder relatively to their opportunities shopkeepers for custom; and to maintain and temptations—that would not make it a this guarantee as against the inevitable final whit more possible for america to boycott tendency of the shopkeepers to conspire the trusts and buy everything it wants at against the customer instead of competing the one-man village shop unless at the same for his custom, attempts are soon made to time it reduced its wants to those of its set up a political theory that combination great-grandfathers' shepherds. your rail- among producers acts in restraint of trade, way bosses may-in fact they do-make rail- and to enforce the competition of the rival way traveling in america more dangerous shops in the village street as a permanent than war; but the village shopkeeper cannot condition. at the same time, as the village provide you with railways: a wagon once a shopkeeper is largely himself a customer week to the nearest country town is the best of the village farmer, a flatly contradictory he can do for you. your alternatives are: political theory is also set up that the shop. i, to give up railway traveling and be content keeper must buy his wares from the village with the wagon (facing the incidental famine farmer and not import them from cheaper and depopulation and financial crisis); , in- sources. thus you get an utter confusion sure against accidents if you can afford it, of principle in industry, production being and grin and bear it if you can't; , impose regulated ruthlessly by protection, and dis- conditions of public safety and convenience tribution delivered over to the anarchy of on the railway companies as in england; or, competition. , nationalize your railways as most euro- fortunately, the anarchical part of the pean countries do. i is ridiculous; requires mixture will not work. anarchy never does a stronger government than a democracy of work. if the village shopkeeper can handle villagers who are all anarchists at heart only one factor, or fragment of a factor, in can produce; requires not only a powerful wholesale buying and retail selling; and government but highly capable administra- brains, borrowing the accumulating capital tive departments of permanent civil servants. of the luckier landlords, can integrate and so you accept as hobson's choice. it is handle = dozen factors, and annex the pre- the same with the other industries, more or liminary production at the same time, they less. will undersell him and offer the consumer it is indeed the way of the world. if you better quality and service; so that the con- want a thing done in your own interests you sumer, whilst giving his moral support to the must either be strong enough to master those competitive villager, will buy his groceries who do it, or else do it yourself. the amer- from integratory brains and capital, alias icans are capable of neither; so, since they “the trust." in vain does the competitive cannot live without their industries, they villager plead that he is a hard-working, god- must submit to be mastered by the trusts, fearing, poor man struggling to bring up a which are capable of both. no doubt they family respectably, and that the trust is a feel mean under the circumstances: they are a nation of villagers mean. but it is no use kicking. all they obvious that the president is trying to redeem can do is to keep their attention off the inci- the united states solely because a man must dents of their slavery, and keep it on the in- assume that things can be bettered, or else cidents of such petty tyrannies as slaves are lie down and die of despair. the socialists, allowed to indulge in. thus, when a million as voiced by mr. upton sinclair, hope still and three-quarter american children of from more desperately that capitalism will break six to twelve are being debauched, murdered, down for want of markets, and that socialism sweated as no horse can be sweated in a will step in and build on the ruins: a very london street without the arrest of the mad hope indeed, because, first, capitalism sweater by the police, it is a comfort to for- is not in the smallest danger of any such get all about it, and to rejoice in asserting the breakdown, and suffers much less from tem- determination of america to keep her family porary crises than it did a century ago, when life pure by sending mr. comstock with a this discredited prophecy began to be bandied force of police to seize on the usual annual about; and, second, socialism is only possible exhibition of ordinary drawings made by as the consummation of successful capital- students in an art school from statues and ism, which, with all its horrors, will be undraped models. adored by history as the pathfinder of social- the press is no help, because the villagers ism and the ruthless reducer to absurdity of are too simple-minded to run a newspaper, village unsocialism. and must take those which the trusts pro- no; things in america will have to get vide them. they can, however, ask the worse before they get better. socialism is the village postmistress to open and read all the remedy; but socialism is only possible where printed matter which passes through her individualism is developed to the point at hands, and not deliver anything that is wrong which the individual can see bevond himself -another of those humanity-staggering pre- and works to perfect his city and his nation cautions which convulse europe with laugh- instead of to furnish his own house better ter and convulse intelligent americans with than his neighbor's. short of that point in- helpless rage and shame. for, as the trusts dividualism is not individualism, but idiocy virtually appoint the village postmistress, her (a word which idiots cannot understand), and natural silliness and rusticity are complicated idiocy and nothing else is just what is the by corruption; and she discriminates in favor matter with america to-dav. of the trusts and against all freedom of therefore i advise mr. roosevelt to come thought and writing, which are the only pow- across the atlantic and live in some compara- ers that can prevail against the tendency of tively civilized country, where he can tell his trusts to abuse their power. countrymen what is good for them without there is, i fear, nothing to be done. a being lynched, or deposed and put in prison nation-of , , villagers which is inca- by a pinkerton army. his fit successor- pable of developing beyond the village stage, whose appointment should be made per- or even making as good a job of that as a manent by a constitutional amendment-is handful of russians would with their mir mr. anthony comstock. mr. comstock is traditions; which has a morbidly democratic the villager of villagers: he is america's constitution because it mistrusts its govern- epitome. there is no esoteric side to him, as ment even more than it mistrusts its people; there must be to mr. roosevelt. there is which is too big to be conquered by a euro- no schoolboyish, rough-rider legend attached pean power; and which, when the natural to him. mr. comstock as a barelegged law of economic rent begins to operate on a child on a barebacked horse is an unthink- huge scale, cannot form a government strong able impropriety. mr. comstock is under- enough to socialize it, must fall helplessly stood, approved, and obeyed by the amer- into the hands of its exploiters and bosses, icans. all americans who are not criminals and outface its disgrace by tall talk as best or artists are comstocks, and are proud of it may. it. it would be at once a graceful act and a president roosevelt cannot realize his penetrating social criticism for mr. roose- dream of making america a real national velt to nominate him and retire in his favor. organism, sovereign over all anti-social pow. in doing so the president would haul down ers within its own frontiers, and forcing all his own flag and hoist the true american men to climb to prosperity instead of rooting flag. it should be a white flag, black on the for it as hogs root for truffles. already it is other side. everybody's talagazine published by the ridgway company erman j. ridgway, president john o'hara cosgrave wm. l. jennings, sec'y and treas. ray brown, art director editor robert frothingham, ado. mgr. east th street, new york city with “everybody's” publishers iving christmas presents is a pleasure given by a certain feature in the last num- u that we all indulge in. picking them ber. everybody's is the kind of a christmas out sometimes amounts almost to a hardship. present that stays right through the year, and how often have you balked at the smallness the last copy may be a better present than the of the amount you are able to spend on a first. it gives a pleasure out of all propor- certain gift, and wondered if the gift would tion to the price, it shows a loving thought- not seem too picayune; wondered if the friend fulness, and it never looks niggardly. or relative who received it would have christ- try it this year on some of your friends mas charity enough to look beyond the amount and let us know the kind of thanks you get. expended and realize the loving thought that we have had printed a very handsome an- accompanied it. there are not so many nouncement to accompany magazines sent things, when you come to think of it, that as christmas presents. all you have to do you can buy for a grown-up for $ or $ that is to send the name and address of the friend seem absolutely worth while. of course, the to whom you wish the magazine sent, your stores are full of beautiful things, but so many own name, and $ . , and we will forward of them are of such an ephemeral nature. the magazine and christmas card direct from they are nice for trimming, pretty to hang on this office. the card carries an announce- a christmas tree, but after christmas is over, ment as follows: where do they go? probably , , people puzzle over this problem every year, each in his own way, and come no nearer a solution than before. each year there is a multitude of pleasant friends requests whom you don't feel that you can overlook, and the ridgway company the list seems to grow rather than contract. and to announce that vet, each year there is the pocketbook as nar- row and unexpansive as it was the year before. everybody's magazine sometimes it seems to shut up even tighter. will be sent to you for one year what's the answer? send a year's sub- commencing with scription to everybody's magazine to the first issue of the new year your friend that you don't want to forget. the publishers think of the pleasure that will come from it wish to join the donor in the hope that all through the year! how often do you get you will receive from every number sincerely thanked for the average christmas the same enjoyment present six months after it has been given? that prompted the gift it has been our personal experience to have a friend turn up months after the magazine was sent, and thank us warmly for the pleasure no. vo. princetviui princeton university library heroes of the plains orto life and wonderful adventures of wild bill, buffalo bill and explotis on gen. duster, kit garson california uog gap jack. garda payne buel charles n. dietz omaha تو۔ ا ا ، و یا que bill wild of the buffalo platns heroes of the plains or lives and wonderful adventures of wild bill, buffalo bill, kit carson, capt. payne, capt. jack, texas jack, california joe, and other celebrated indian fighters, scouts, hunters and guides including a true and thrilling history of gen. custer's famous " last fight on tiie little big horn, with sitting bull. by j. w. buel, author of " border outlaws,” “ legends of the ozarks,”' and other popular works. profusely illustrated. new york & st. louis: n. d. thompson & company, . a be an t copyrighted, , by w. s. bryan. te of of author's preface. >> the work of preparing a brief history of the greatest of plains-heroes has been one of especial pleasure to me, although at times many obstacles interposed themselves which only perseverance could remove. but the labor, nevertheless, has afforded me no little enjoyment, as it brought to my immediate consideration deeds of prow- ess, cunning and endurance, putting to a test the meas- ure of man's possibilities in a particular field of action. it is our natural disposition to admire true heroes, and not only to admire, but to exalt their acts, and this uni- versal feeling, perhaps exaggerated in myself, was one of the motives which impelled me into a preparation of " heroes of the plains." while this volume abounds with thrilling adventures, sanguinary encoun- ters and personal combats of the most startling charac- ter, yet through every page there is observed a thread of wholesome justice, upon which is strung every deed recounted, preserving a forcible and moral influence beneficial to young and old alike. in compiling these personal histories i have adhered strictly to facts without florid coloring. i was well ac- quainted with wild bill for several years before his death, and in wrote a pamphlet sketch of his life,.but dis- covered afterward that while it contained comparatively few of his adventures, there were several mortifying er- author's preface rors, a correction of which influenced me to write another sketch of the famous scout, and this labor developed into " heroes of the plains." i was fortunate in securing wild bill's diary from his widow, mrs. agnes lake hickok, of cincinnati, from which i have drawn my facts concerning him, that there might be no mistakes or omissions in recounting the marvelous exploits of his life in this publication. buffalo bill, who now stands unchallenged as the greatest plainsman living, was an intimate friend of wild bill, and the two, so long connected in their won- derful careers, deserve a conjunctive position in history, such as i have here given them. the other heroes, kit carson, capt. jack, gen. custer, capt. payne, california joe, and texas jack, have each made their private mark over the wild expanse of west- ern wilderness, in the highway they so ably assisted in preparing for civilization and its peaceful pursuits : teem- ing harvests, happy homes, the building of cities, exten- sion of commerce and all attendant blessings. they fought the fight whose victory has moved the center of wealth and population westward, and therefore deserve the exultant recognition of every american whose patri- otism extends from the heart to the soil of his nativity. j. w. b. st. louis, august , . illustratrtions. page. illuminated title. a ride for life, j. b. hickok (wild bill), wild bill's birth place, disembarking in a kansas mob, wild bill driving into santa fe, wild bill and his men charging the indian camp, wild bill and the cinnamon bear, wild bill's fight with the mccandlas gang, a close shave, wild bill in disguise, wild bill surprises the sleepy sentinel, man-to-yu kee (conquering bear), wild bill's duel with conquering bear, wild bill and mrs. rogers in the park, wild bill satisfies the natives, a duel with four men, wild bill killing black kettle, scenery on the route traveled by the wilson party, the principal amusement at hays city, wild bill's fight with fifteen soldiers, the aboriginal part of the outfit, the bear and the sausages, a street in abilene, wild bill accidentally kills a friend, a “rough” on his way to the lock-up, punishing a bogus character, the cabin in the black hills, wild bill and the fox, taking desperate chances, wild bill's miraculous escape from the indians, deadwood in embryo, assassination of wild bill, execution of jack mccall, wild bill's grave, cen. forsyth and his beleaguered scouts, hon. wm. f. cody (buffalo bill), stabbing of buffalo bill's father, battle of ash hollow, the attack on the stage coach, inside the robbers' dug-out, buffalo bill wins the championship, ambushing the indians, iii . illustrations. “hi-yi-yip-yah"--the attack, beaver creek, the trapper's elysian, buffalo bill in close quarters, buffalo bill tries a shot at long range, major frank north, silver bricks awaiting shipment, death of tall bull, two indians at one shot, the marriage ceremony, “ how! how !" the grand duke's first buffalo, residence of hon. w. f. cody (buffalo bill) at north platte, neb, brevet major-gen. geo. a. custer. gen. custer's interpreter addressing the assembled sioux, death of general custer, the monument where custer fell, buffalo bill's duel with yellow hand, a shot that beat william tell's, california joe, california joe at the stake, the indians receiving the white girl into their canoe, california joe attacked by a panther, - california joe saves his friend, “ugh! white man,” kit carson and his blind horse, - kit carson employed as a horse tamer, treed by a hungry grizzly, hunting the trail, carson's duel with the frenchman, kit carson saves his fallen comrade, carson's fight with a mexican lion, kit carson's indian wife, carson and the wounded buffalo, scene in taos, n. m., capt. d. l. payne, the murder of mrs. blinn, marching through the snow, departure of the cheyennes, a cheyenne warrior, colonel coppinger visits the camp, drilling the colonists, capt. jack, the poet scout, oura, texas jack, jack holding the indians at bay, flagging antelope, contents. life of wild bill. pag. chapter .—birth-family history—early life-youthful hunting adventures—desperate fight on a towpath- leaves home to take part in the kansas war-receives the title of “shanghai bill”—lively times in kansas, - chapter ii.-stage driving across the plains— trouble with the indians—bill leads an expedition against them--desper- ate fight and brilliant victory-freighting to new mexico -terrific fight with a cinnamon bear-bill cleans out the mccandlas gang at rock creek, and wins the title of “wild bill,” - chapter iii.-wild bill enlists in the union army_remarka- ble shooting at pea ridge-becomes a spy for general curtis-makes his way to the confederates and becomes an orderly to gen. price-desperate adventure with jake lawson—a ride for life-an unprofitable horse race, – chapter iv.-wild bill again enters the confederate lines- humorous adventure with an old darkey-assumes the role of an arkansaw traveler-is detected and condemned to be shot-escapes by killing his guard, – chapter v.-bill declines longer to serve as a spy-remarkable adventure with three bushwhackers-black nell-bowie- knife duel with conquering bear, - chapter vi.-mary logan, the beautiful indian girl-her singular infatuation for wild bill—the romance of love —mary logan poisons her husband and disappears for- ever-duel with dave tutt, in which bill “satisfies the natives," — chapter vii.-wild bill fights a duel with four men-expedi. tion against black kettle-desperate battle on the wachita -bill kills black kettle, -- chapter vi?.-wild bill visits chicago-some roughs try to tame him-ignominious failure of the attempt-bill re. ceives a letter from vice-president wilson-serves as guide for the vice-president's party, and is presented with a pair of ivory-handled pistols bill is elected marshal of hays city, - contents. chapter ix.—jack strawhan's fatal mistake-bill mulvey un- dertakes to “run the town"-but runs against wild bill's pistol-desperate fight with soldiers, - chapter x.-wild bill's buffalo speculation-captures a herd of wild buffaloes and exhibits them at niagara—result, bankruptcy-bill becomes marshal of abilene, kan.- fatal row with phil cole-wild bill and the professor of pugilism, -- chapter xi.—$ , offered for wild bill's heart-eight texas desperadoes accept the offer, but fail to deliver the goods -death of bill thompson-wild bill kills and scalps phil cole's cousin, _ chapter xii.—mrs. lake finds a champion in wild bill-who makes a speech in her favor-bill visits kansas city- description of that place in its early days-bill tames a rash young man, — chapter xiii.—wild bill as an actor—the tricks he played on the “supes”-settles à crowd of roughs, who were spoiling to fight the entire combination-adventure with a party of merchants at portland, maine-wild bill makes . decided hit-cleans out a bogus theatrical troupe for using his name without authority-goes west again—is attacked by two villains and kills them both, - chapter xiv.-expedition to the black hills adventure with the silver grey fox-bill's companions attacked and killed by indians-his own marvelous adventures and final escape, - chapter xv.-wild bill accidentally meets mrs. lake—pro. poses marriage, is accepted, and the wedding takes place --pleasant visit to cincinnati-sketch of mrs. lake and her daughter emma, - chapter xvi.-bill's last expedition to the black hills–affec- tionate letter to his wife--assassination of wild bill by jack mccall, - – chapter xvii.--the murderer's trial and acquittal, — chapter xviii.-funeral of wild bill-california joe's warn- ing to the murderer-capt. jack's poem on the burial of wild bill, — chapter xix. --second trial of jack mccall-his conviction and execution-pathetic letter from his sister, — chapter xx.-removal of wild bill's remains, which are found to be petrified "wild bill's grave"- peculiarities of the great scout-his love for black nell-his wonder- ful dexterity in the use of fire arms-gen. custer's opin- ion of wild bill, - contents. life of buffalo bill. powder, chapter i.—birth and early life-experiences with mormons and frontier characters—the kansas troubles-attempt. ed assassination of billy's father—billy rescues his father from a mob—attempt to blow up the cody residence with – chapter ii.—billy runs away from home to become a herder- returns with his pockets full of silver, which he gives to his mother-goes to school-his first sweetheart—fight with his rival—“ i'm killed ! i'm killed !”-billy again leaves home to escape imaginary dangers-is followed by his rival's father—but escapes his fury-death of the elder mr. cody-billy's efforts to help his mother-his first fight with indians—the retreat-billy slays the “biggest indian in the outfit”–returns home to find himself famous, - chapter iii.—billy “goes west” agaiņ—description of over- land freighting—a singular obligation—"bull-whack- ers” and “cow-boys ”—the camp wrecked by a buffalo stampede-captured by mormons—who rob the train, but release the men-perilous march across the plains- desperate fight with indians-billy shoots a warrior at long range—the rescue-trapping--camping in a grave yard, • - chapter iv. pike's peak or bust"_" busted ”- the re- turn-adventures on a raft-billy becomes a · pony ex- press " rider, - chapter v.-billy and dave harrington as trappers—the ac- cident-alone on the prairie-visited by indians twenty- nine days of lonely suffering-help at last—the return -death of noble dave harrington, chapter vi.-stage driving-narrow escape from massacre battle of clear creek, – chapter vii.-billy's adventure with the robbers–kills one of the band and escapes by shrewd strategy, — chapter viii.-the great civil war—"red legs” and “bore der ruffians”-billy's service as a soldier and scout- adventure in southern missouri, - chapter ix.-close of the war-billy falls in love and is mar- ried—wedding trip 'to kansas—the boat attacked by bushwhackers ovation at leavenworth,housekeeping- scouting for gen. custer, - contents. ans- chapter x.-the “colored troops” fail to fight nobly-but unlimber themselves and “light out”-saved by the darkness—a town speculation-rome “howls"-dr. webb and his little scheme-rome does not prove to be an eternal city-buffalo hunting–cody wins the title of “ buffalo bill,” – chapter xi.- the great buffalo hunting contest-numerous visitors-great excitement-magnificent display of skill in riding and shooting—buffalo bill wins the stakes, chapter xii.-bill is captured by indians—but escapes through strategy and the fleetness of his mulem the ambush- marvelous riding as a dispatch carrier—the “govern- ment mule,” – chapter xiii.-gen. forsythe's desperate battle with the indi- -buffalo bill as scout and hunter-drives a herd of buffaloes into camp and kills them—fighting indians- close quarters, - chapter xiv.–the battle with black kettle's band-pursuit of horse thieves—“throw up your hands, or i'll kill you," chapter xv.-buffalo bill kills an indian at long range- major north and his pawneesmnumerous indian fights, - chapter xvi.--scouts and battles-buffalo bill shoots tall bull-carnp life, - chapter xvii.—buffalo bill's wonderful horsemanship--he kills two indians at one shot-the pawnee sentinel- buffalo bill as a 'squire-a new way to “replevin" a stolen horse the wedding ceremony, - chapter xviii.—buffalo bill serves as guide for distinguished hunting parties—the duke alexis-spotted tail and his indians—the duke kills his first buffalo-bill treats him to a “western stage drive"-buffalo bill visits new york on the invitation of prominent citizens-another brush with the indians, - chapter xix.-buffalo bill is elected a member of the legis- lature-ned buntline makes him an offer to go on the stage-bill and texas jack learning their parts—splendid success, - chapter xx.-acting and scouting-death of little kit-prep- arations for the little big horn expedition, - chapter xxi.-history of the unfortunate expedition to the little big horn-custer's last fight and death, - chapter xxii.-buffalo bill's duel with yellow hand" the first scalp for custer,” - contents. that ended in a fight-kit carson is badly wounded in an effort to save a comrade-carson's duel with the arro- gant frenchman, - chapter iii.—expedition into the blackfeet country—threaten- ed with starvation-combats with the blackfeet-carson saves a fallen comrade-trapping on the great salt lake-terrible fight with a mexican lion-kit carson's indian wife-her death and kit's visit to st. louis serves as scout in the fremont expedition-graphic de- scription of a buffalo hunt-carson's narrow escape from a wounded buffalo, - chapter iv.-the second fremont expedition-exploring the great salt lake_terrible hardships and sufferings, - chapter v.-carson's service in the mexican war—saves a party of americans from annihilation-close of the mexi- can war-carson's home in new mexico_commissioned brigadier general-death of kit carson, - life of capt. d. l. payne. chapter i.—early life-goes west to fight the mormons- unprofitable speculation in a saw mill-hunting on the plains of kansas—payne's intimacy with kit carson, wild bill, buffalo bill, california joe, and other noted plains- men-service in the cival warmthe pompous dutch in- specting officer—payne as a sailor– the joke he played on a couple of starchy officers—a gallant adventure at the battle of prairie grove, - chapter ii.-close of the war-scouting on the plains-capt- ure of three white ladies by indians--the pursuit and re- capture-terrible sufferings during the expedition–ten cheyenne chiefs in a close place—payne and the lively mule-surrounded and hemmed in-saved by daring and skill-capt. payne's election to the kansas legislature- the oklahoma movement-payne's arrest and trial-per- sonal characteristics, · – sketch of capt. jack, the poet scout, - sketch of texas jack, (j. b. omohundro), — shapin a ride for life. (see page .) photo j. b. hickok, (wild bill.) heroes of the plains. life of wild bill. (j. b. hickok.) chapter i. it is a noticeable fact that nearly all our sturdy fron- tier characters are natives of the west; there is, appar- ently, something in the atmosphere, in the wild winds which freight the air with primeval perfume ; an unde- fined elemental principle which inoculates western chil- dren with a desire for adventure. our hero, of course, belongs to that longitudinal nativity where the prairies bathe their feet at the margins of eastern forests, and then roll away to the occident, resting at that great ridge which rises ruggedly into the vertebræ of a continent. james butler hickok, known to history only as “ wild bill," was born in la salle county, illinois, near the country village of troy grove, on the th of may, . his parents were both natives of vermont, from which state they removed, directly after marriage, to new york. after following farming for some time in the empire state, and meeting with indifferent success, in the family, now consisting of the parents and two children, packed up their few possessions and re- moved to illinois, going overland in a “mover's wagon," as was the customary mode of traveling in that early period. a place for settlement was chosen in putnam county, but two years afterward a more desirable location was found in la salle county, the homestead then selected heroes of the plains. and entered proving so satisfactory that it is still occu- pied by two survivors of the family. the house in which wild bill was born was built in and stood, fronting east, upon a prairie one-half mile from the timber skirting little vermillion creek. the house is still standing, and occupied, but the progress of rapid settlement in illinois has reared the village of homer about the pioneer's home, and the birth-place of our hero is now situated in the southeast corner of block wild bill's birth place. number thirteen of that town. the cut of the house as here produced, was made from a drawing executed by h. d. hickok, in march of the present year, and therefore illustrates the place of to-day, though there have been no material alterations made in the building since its first erection. the family consisted of six children, four boys and two girls, whose names and ages are as follows: . c. hickok, was born in new york in ; he is now a resi. life of wild bill. dent of california, and is the trainer and part owner of st. julian, the greatest horse, perhaps, now on the turf. lorenzo b. was born, also in new york, in ; horace d. is a native of putnam county, illinois, having been born there in ; james b., celinda d., and lydia m. were born at the old homestead near troy grove. celinda, born in , married a gentleman by the name of dewey, and is still living in la salle county, while lydia, being two years younger, married a farmer named barnes and is living in decatur county, kansas. lorenzo and horace are still living on the old. homestead. the father died in , and the mother in after reach- ing the venerable age of seventy-four years. all the children are living with the exception of james (wild bill) whose marvelous career and tragic death will be found fully recorded in the subsequent pages, constitut- ing a leaf in history a parallel to which can be found neither in the annals of fact nor romance. james, it is said, was peculiar in his ways even in child- hood. his earliest desire was for fire-arms, and by bar- tering a number of childish trinkets, at the age of eight years he became possessed of the greatest treasure his youthful fancy had ever pictured—a little single-barreled pistol. in his eyes this weapon, though a flint-lock and of imperfect make, represented the sum total of earthly wealth ; he would not have exchanged it for all the gold of the richest peruvian inca, and if staked against his soul there is no doubt but that he would have taken great risk of losing that before parting with his almost price- less treasure. by dint of cunning exchange and bar- ter the youthful sportsman procured powder, and when lead was difficult to obtain he used pebbles, and thus accoutered all his leisure hours were spent in marksman- ship, in which, despite the primitive character of his “out- heroes of the plains. fit,” he occasionally killed a cat, wounded a pig, winged a chicken, or stung a coyote. these foibles sometimes brought a prominent admonition of solomon into active operation, at great expense to his youthful posterior ; but if these corrections made the embryo hunter's sitting posi- tion difficult they apprised him, at the same time, of the more comfortable employment of walking, and this was sure to lead him again into the commission of other acts equally indefensible in the eyes of his parents. at about the age of fourteen james secured an excel- lent pistol and shortly afterward, by the assistance of his father, he purchased a rifle, and thus armed he remained in the woods almost constantly. at this period the few settlers were greatly annoyed by the ravages of wolves, so much in fact that the state offered premiums for the scalps of these destructive animals. this furnished a remunerative occupation for james who, every evening, returned home with a belt full of bloody prizes which brought him no small revenue at the end of every month when the scalps were carried to the county clerk, as the law provided. his opportunities for schooling were entirely consistent with his other advantages; country schools had occa- sional sessions in his district, but a regular attendance was prevented, both by the great distance of the school- house and the irregularity, or rather infrequency, of the sessions. however, he managed to acquire a rudimental education. · at the age of fifteen chance threw in his way a copy of peters' “ life of kit carson," and the trap- per's guide,” two books which he read with the greatest interest. the former made such an impression upon him that he declared to his brothers that he would “one day beat anything kit carson ever did or attempted.' two years after familiarizing himself with carson's ex- life of wild bill. ploits, james obtained employment as a tow-path driver for the illinois and michigan canal. soon after engaging in this occupation he had a difficulty with a driver named charles hudson, which resulted in a fistic contest lasting more than an hour. the two began the fight on the tow path, but gradually rolling towards the canal they both finally tumbled into the water, and then it changed from blows into an effort each to drown the other. hudson was a large man, whose physical abilities were far super- ior to james', but the latter's cat-like agility fully com pensated for his deficiency in strength; in addition to a remarkable activity his endurance was another point of superior excellence, and through these he at length gained such a decided victory that hudson was taken out of the canal in a lifeless condition, but by dexterous manipulation he was resuscitated. this ended james' canal experience, and he returned home. thus passed the youth of wild bill, but who can tell his longing for wider fields of adventure, his craving for escapades in which danger becomes the source of pleas- ure? when he reached the period of responsible man- hood, eighteen years, though the avenues of communica- tion were few and narrow, yet there was brought to his ears stories of the incipient struggles between missouri and kansas. as the strife grew fiercer in aspect james decided to seek the arena of conflict; he may have grasped the ideas which actuated the kansas settlers in repelling all efforts to make their state a territory privi- leging slavery, but the elements of his nature rather in- cite a belief that he was moved alone by the knowledge that kansas soil was vegetating bloody broils, and that the great need of that section was heroes. in the spring of our thirsting adventurer, collect- ing together what money he could command, bade adieu heroes of the plains. to his old home, which nestled tamely in the wilderness of prairies, and set out on foot for st. louis, which city he reached after many days of painful traveling. the world was almost as strange to him as one of the planets, for his intercourse had been confined to such a limited stretch of changeless country, that beyond the village store his vision had never wandered over the scenes of business life. st. louis was to him a painted pano- rama, as mysterious as the labyrinths of the pyra- mids; the steamboats were novelties like the palaces of necromancers, and this new life to him had such a strange aspect that it was very like a second birth. the river business was, at that time, very large, and the missouri was crowded with steamers plying between st. louis and omaha. after much deliberation james engaged pas- sage on the steamer imperial for leavenworth, a small acquaintance with city life having infused a new longing for adventure and stimulated him for greater concerns. after a tedious voyage the boat reached leavenworth, but at the landing met with a reception least expected. ex- citement had seized upon everyone and the determination of the people seemed to be the disorganization of society and the formation of a universal mob. james, an unsophisticated country lad, but.withal pos- sessed of a mother acuteness which led him to carefully con- sider the best means for his own security, carefully noted the excited throng which, without the least show of reason, except exaggerated suspicion, forbade any of the passengers coming on shore. the town of leavenworth being his des- tination, however, james determined to leave the boat, and to do this he resorted to a cunning expedient. tying a large bandana kerchief about his neck, with his pants stuffed carelessly into his boot-legs, and being a deck pas- senger, he readily assumed the labor of a roustabout and life of wild bill. began to carry off freight. while in this occupation he had no difficulty in slipping away through the crowd and gaining the center of the town, where he at once cast about for means of employment. riitit disembarking in a kansas mob. heroes of the plains. jim lane, who had recently come from indiana with a body of two hundred men, was then the recognized leader of what was known as the “ red legs,” or anti-slavery forces in kansas, and at this time had his headquarters in leavenworth. his band consisted of a little more than three hundred men, armed with such weapons as their individual means afforded. james gravitated natu- rally towards lane, and within a week after his arrival in leavenworth he had joined his fortunes with those who were under that leader's generalship. a few days after his enlistment the regiment was called out on the commons west of town for drill and rifle practice. the range was one hundred yards, and the guns used were common squirrel rifles. . in the contest of marksmanship james easily beat every other man in the command, and indeed made such excellent scores that lane personally com- plimented his accuracy in the most flattering words. while this little ceremony was being conducted, a crow chanced to fly overhead, and, greatly elated at the distinction be- ing shown him, james drew a pistol from his pocket and shot the bird, then carelessly replaced his weapon with- out remark as to the excellence of the shot. the crowd of men, however, set up a wild cheering, and for several minutes the confusion was so great that lane could not make himself heard. when the noise had somewhat abated he renewed his flattering compliments, and putting a hand on james' shoulder, he said to his band : “ this man, my newest recruit, will one day excite the wonder and admiration of america, and i shall watch his course with the greatest interest and solicitude." after this little, incident the regiment gave james the title of shanghai bill," a name which clung to him until after his great fight at rock creek, nearly five years after- wards. i can readily conceive the origin of the appella- life of wild bill. tion of “shanghai,” because james was, at this time, no less than six feet in height and uncommonly slim, though very lithe and willowy, but how he came to be called “bill," instead of “jim," i have been unable to discover. his most intimate acquaintances are at a loss for the rea- son, and his diary makes no mention of anything except the time and circumstances under which the "title" was bestowed. “ bill,” as i shall hereafter very properly call him, served with lane for nearly two years, through the most trying days when kansas was building a wall on her east- ern border out of the blood and bodies of her noblest sons, to keep out slavery. he fought only as a brave and excellent soldier, always recognized by lane as the most effective man in the command. in the early part of bill entered a claim of one hundred and sixty acres of the finest land in monticello township, johnson county, kansas, and though he was not yet of age, his reputation was such that almost immediately after set- tling in that section he was elected constable. but he was not permitted to live in peace in his new home. the “ border ruffians" of missouri, who had suffered defeat, held a special grudge against bill and in their predatory incursions on kansas soil they visited monticello township and during the absence of their enemy they burned his cabin. being unable to revenge this out- rage because of the secret identity of the men who did it, bill went to work again and soon had another comfortable house erected on his premises. his duties as constable called him from home so frequently, however, that the marauders had no difficulty in a second time applying the torch and laying the new house in ashes. the insecurity of his possessions admonished bill that his labors would never avail him, as a farmor in johnson heroes of the plains. county, and before the year expired he abandoned his claim and accepted a position as driver for the overland stage company. in this capacity he crossed the plains several times, driving from st. joseph, denver, and points in kansas, colorado and nebraska, to santa fe, new mexico, and salt lake city. as a driver he was apparently reckless and yet no man ever got through his route so frequently with as few accidents. coming into his destination bill usually treated his passengers to “a shaking up,” as he called it, “ in order to jolt the cricks out of their joints.” the last stretch of road entering santa fe was a slight decline and over this bill almost in- variably turned the horses loose and gave them the lash. the big concord coach would bound along like a wounded monster, lurching the passengers from side to side, dish- ing up dyspeptics, phlegmatics and rollicking dispositions indiscriminately, and bowling into the town finally the centre of a dust bank and the object of excited interest to everyone in the ancient mexican city. chapter ii. the overland stage company, like the great freight- ers, majors, russell & waddell, had its routes over the entire west. it was a very easy matter at that time, and in that peculiar civilization, for a man, so disposed, to make a record. in fact, it was more difficult for him not to make one, for he was soon put down as either an arrant coward or a man of nerve. every station was located by a saloon and every stage employe was practi- cally an animated skin-full of fighting whisky. desper- ate rows were as common as wax-weed flowers on the life of wild bill. w! umumantel thak luigutu wild bill driving into santa fe. heroes of the plains. prairie in spring-time, and the man who had failed to snuff out a life was like a bashful fellow at a country dance—wofully out of place. but shanghai bill's record was recognized in the bud, for his physical ability had been demonstrated in many social encounters, and while he had gone through the ordeal of more than a score of fights his master had not yet been found. being also acknowledged as the best shot on the plains and fortified with a wonderful self-possession under trying circum- stances, full of cunning, strategy and pluck, he was already a hero by general consent of all who knew him. in the fall of the indians broke out of their res- ervation on the sweetwater and began their depredations to the serious injury of the stage company. several set- tlers had been massacred, two pony express riders killed, and, being emboldened by their success, they at length attacked a stage coach near the three crossings on sweet- water creek. in this encounter the driver and three passengers were killed and the assistant division agent escaped with a serious wound. in addition to this out- rage the indians stole a large number of horses belonging to the stage company and rendered its business so ex- tremely hazardous that for nearly two months the express and stage were suspended on that division. the com- pany, being thus enjoined from operations, and appreci- ating the necessity of some decisive action, sent for bill. he promptly responded and meeting the officers at st. joseph they went into council to consider the best means of proceeding against the indians. bill was the first to offer a proposition looking to a solution of the troubles. said he: “ you have got enough men here, if they are turned loose right, to clean out all the red devils along the route, and all the men now idle would consider it a frolic to go into the indian service for a short time.” life of wild bill. he was requested to perfect his plans and given full authority to conduct the proposed operations according to his own wishes. bill at once had the men called to- gether and in his own pithy phrases related to them what was wanted ; a hearty disposition to engage in the expe- dition was manifested by every one, and on the following day preparations were made to leave. about fifty men enlisted, all of whom were well provided with the best of arms and good horses ; before starting they unanimously chose bill as their leader, promising implicit obedience to his orders. the well equipped and organized body set out on the th day of september, pointing directly for the powder river. when they reached that stream, along which they expected to find the indians encamped, they saw nothing but an indistinct trail leading westwardly. this the company followed for three days, finding it growing constantly fresher, when suddenly they found, upon reaching crazy woman's fork—a small stream usually dry during summer and frozen solid in winter—that the indians whom they were so successfully trailing, had been joined by another party in war paint numbering not less than one hundred. here was a dilemma which caused several in the command to falter, for it was now evident that the whole band of indians comprised fully two hundred, and to meet with such an overwhelming force seemed like charging the guns at balaklava. but bill gave his men no opportunity to talk about the in- creasing danger of the expedition, for he proposed to shoot the first man who attempted to return. this bold threat may not have been needed, for though there were some expressions concerning the judiciousness of follow- ing so large a band of indians, yet every one under bill was full, up to the chin, with dare-devil' courage, and heroes of the plains. they could be depended on to fight a ten-acre field full of grizzly bears with only a tooth-pick for a weapon if they were only put to it. finding the trail decidedly fresh, the party, with bill always in the lead, proceeded with due circumspection, gaining the high knolls cautiously, and sweeping the land- scape to discover if the enemy were in view. at clear creek the crossing was apparently made but two or three hours before, and almost immediately after this discov- ery, the day being well advanced, bill commanded a halt, and pointing directly north, he said: “do you see that little blue vapor hanging on the tree tops? well, that means an indian camp. you boys just stop right here and i'll locate the game.” so saying he left the trail and rode like he was making to the windward of a herd of buffaloes, taking a broad circuit in order to reach some high ground from which he could discover the exact strength of the indians, how their camp was pitched, where their stock was stationed and whether tethered or corraled. all this information was soon gathered by bill, who returned and ordered his men to rest until dark, get themselves in good readiness and be prepared for a dashing fight after night-fall. the company remained in camp, without fire, until nearly ten o'clock, getting a good rest and permitting their horses to recover from the tiresome march. when bill called his men to the saddle each one responded with alacrity. his instructions then were for each man to fol- low him into the indian camp and to fight only with the pistol; to make for the stock which, being in a corral, would be easily stampeded and run out, so it could be collected and secured. these instructions were ubeyed to the letter; the party rode cautiously toward the camp, which being found unpicketed was easily approached, life of wild bill. and then a dash was made for the corral by twelve of the men while the others rode into the camp and as the half wild bill and his men charging the indian camp. stupefied indians came out of their tents, not realizing what the confusion meant, they were shot down until the at- tack became a slaughter. the surprise was complete ; heroes of the plains. while the deadly revolvers in the hands of those who so well knew how to use them, did fearful execution. all the horses were secured except a few scrub ponies, and then it was an easy matter to get off, for there was noth- ing left on which the indians could make pursuit. the men returned with all the horses stolen from the stage company, together with more than a hundred head of those belonging to the indians. after getting back to st. joseph the brilliant results of the campaign superinduced a general big drunk in which all the stage employes participated, and, though very strange to assert, yet none the less true, the row which followed as a mat- ter of course, resulted in the killing of only one man, a stage driver, by alf. slade, one of the company bosses. severing his connectin with the overland stage co., in , bill engaged with the great freighters, majors & russels, to drive between independence, mo., and santa fe, new mexico. it was while thus employed that he met with a unique adventure which cost him very dearly but taught him a very useful lesson. matt farley was his companion on one occasion during this long over- land trip, and but for him the name of wild bill would never have been heard. while passing through the soccoro range with his team two miles ahead of farley, bill discovered a large cinnamon bear with her two cubs directly in the road ahead of him. the bear, instead of manifesting any fear at bill's approach, but moved en- tirely by her maternal instincts, boldly disputed his pas- sage, and with further advance of the team she growled fiercely and showed her intention to attack him. bill be- ing provided with two excellent pistols and a large bowie- knife gave himself no concern for the result of the en- counter, thinking it an easy matter to kill the bearma presumption in which he was most seriously mistaken. life of wild bill. when the bear approached within twenty feet of him he fired one of his pistols, the ball striking her squarely in the forehead, but the accurate aim instead of proving fatal had no other effect than to put the beast in a more desperate rage, for the cinnamon, like the grizzley, has a brain protection so thick that the ball from an ordinary rifle will produce no impression on it. in fact, many experienced hunters claim that the cinnamon is much more dangerous than the grizzley, because of its greater activity and equal vitality. bill at once discovered, from the bad result of his first shot, that he had an antagonist bent on a mission which might well afford serious appre- hensions. his first feeling of security prevented him from taking safety on the top of his wagon and now he was cut off from that means of escape. in fact he had no time to think of retreat after the first shot was dis- charged, for the bear was fairly on him in the next instant; he discharged his second pistol and succeeded in injuring the animal's left foreleg, as he intended, but as he jerked his long knife the bear reared on her hind legs and grappled him. the struggle which now ensued was one of the most desperate ever known. bill buried the knife rapidly in various parts of the bear's body and cut her throat, but while doing this his shoulder was torn dreadfully, his left arm crushed from the elbow, his breast furrowed by the long, poniard-like claws, and his left cheek was split open. but he never regarded his terrible wounds, standing up in the agonizing embrace of the infuriated animal until the ground on which they fought was saturated with blood. bill finally slipped and fell, the bear falling squarely on top of him and holding his left arm in her mouth. this fall, was, how- ever, a most fortunate circumstance, for the position was easily reversed and bill could use his knife with greater heroes of the plains. effect; while, in a standing position, although injured in ene of her forelegs, yet the bear could with this member seriously interfere with the execution of bill's single free hand. before the fight was concluded he had literally disembowled the dangerous animal and her feet became so tangled in her intestines that she thus assisted in her own quick destruction. the combat lasted nearly half an hour and at its close it was difficult to decide which presented the more horri- fying spectacle, bill or his dead antagonist; they were both saturated with blood and their flesh was in shreds in several places. however, bill survived, but when his companion, farley, came up he was barely able to point to the dead bear and his own desperate lacerations. bill was hauled to santa fe and there placed under the charge of dr. sam jones, an excellent frontier surgeon, who, by good attention, was able to so far restore his patient in two months' time as to permit bill's return to indepen- dence. but it was not until several months after his dis- charge from the surgeon's care that bill was able to re- sume work again, and the scars from the wounds re ceived in that encounter he bore to his grave. in the latter part of , bill left the employment of majors & russel to accept a position tendered him by the overland stage co. as watchman and hostler at rock creek station, a point on the old platte route fifty miles west of topeka. the stage company, which ran its coaches between st. joseph, mo., and denver, had estab- lished rock creek as a relay post and had built stables for the accommodation of about twenty-five horses, which number was almost always found there. bill had a com- panion with him known as doc. mills, a small irishman, who did the cooking and assisted in the care of the horses, in fact performing a greater part of the menial duties, as su we bull אונוי. mb rues shameless wilo bill and the cinnamon bear. life of wild bill. bill was employed, chiefly, to guard the stock, owing to the depredations of horsethieves who were very numerous in that section. the two occupied a small log hut, hav- ing but one room, which was divided, however, by the suspension of an old horse-blanket, back of which was their bed. the roof of the hut was thatched, and being built on the side of a steep hill it was easy to walk from the hill directly on to the roof. it was what is univer- sally called in the far west a “dug-out,” there being but one entrance, in the front, and not a single window. to the right of the “dug-out” were the stables, built of heavy logs and so secure that when the big puncheon doors were locked it would require the services of a pro- fessional safe-cracker to effect a violent entrance. it was here that bill and his chum spent the autumn days, in the very heart of the dreariest solitude between mis- souri and the rocky mountains. but even away up in this wild place the news of an approaching struggle be- tween the north and south had penetrated and as the daily coach rolled up before the cabin door bill always anxiously inquired for papers and information. in the same neighborhood, not more than thirteen miles west of rock creek, there was a rendezvous known as the mccandlas ranche. it was located in a barely access- ible spot, and well known to bill as a corral for stolen horses. the two mccandlas boys, jack and jim, had long been a terror to the central part of kansas; had killed more innocent men and stolen a greater number of fine horses than any other two thieving cut-throats that ever figured in the annals of western outlawry. they had enlisted about one dozen of equally desperate horse- thieves, and this band laid enforced tribute upon every farmer in that section, and when horse stealing grew dull or unprofitable the mccandlases turned their talents- heroes of the plains. which were decidedly versatile--to highway robbery, oc- casionally stopping a stage, or murdering a party of trav- elers. they had so overrun the country. and asserted their power that no attempt was ever made to arrest them, the officers of the several adjoining counties fairly standing in awe of the mccandlas name. kansas, although one of the strongest union states, nevertheless furnished some recruits for the confederate service, and among the active sympathizers with the south, in the central part of the state, the mccandlas gang was particularly prominent. by what authority he acted was never discovered ; perhaps it was by none, and that his assumed authority was but a pretext for bolder robbery; but it is certain that jack mccandlas asserted his special employment to collect horses, and enlist recruits for the confederate service. about five miles from rock creek station, toward the head of the branch, lived an old man named shapley, a good old soul who, with his aged wife, was known for kindness of heart and a wholesome sympathy. as occa- sion sometimes offered he would preach at points in the neighborhood when as many as a dozen persons could be collected together, a circumstance which the sparse set- tlement very seldom afforded. this occasional occupa- tion gained for him the titular honor of parson, so that he was always called parson shapley by those who knew him. notwithstanding his grey hairs and naturally peaceful disposition, when the threats of rebellion struck his ears, the parson was not slow to show the blood, at least, of his fighting ancestors. he was a pronounced union man and like a true westerner spit out his mind without regard for results, and by an unconcealed patri- otism rendered himself specially obnoxious to the mc- candlas thieves. on the th day of december, , life of wild bill. wild bill, whose title of “wild” was so soon to be gained, saw coming down the stage road a party of four horsemen headed by jim mccandlas, who was leading the venerable old parson by a lariet fastened about his neck. the sight aroused bill's sympathy, but while he was well disposed to assist the aged man yet discretion admonished him of the fruitlessness of such an undertak- ing under existing circumstances. when the party came abreast of the “dug-out,” mccandlas in a most audacious and authoritative manner spoke to bill as follows: . look a here, i mean business; i am a gatherin' up horses for the secesh service and i want yer to jist git them thar horses in yer stable ready for me when i come back here, which will be about three or four o'clock this arternoon. this old hypocritical devil i've got here has been a havin' of his say a little too free around here and i concluded to take him along and show him the needsessity of keepin' his mouth shet.” in addition to this burst of mandatory language mc- candlas endeavored to persuade bill to join him and enter the confederate service, but the reply was one of those fearless expressions which bill knew so well how to give. said he : “you go to h- ! when you want these horses come and take them, and if you want me, you'll have no diffi- culty in finding me here." bill then withdrew into the dug-out, while mccandlas and his men rode on toward their rendezvous. now it happened that doc. mills had left the cabin only a short time before, and gone down the creek some distance, taking a shot-gun with him to kill quails or other game he might find, to provision the place with meat. thus bill was left alone, with no one even to consult re- garding the most desirable method of defense. in the heroes of the plains. cabin there were several weapons, however, consisting of a mississippi yager—a rifle of very large bore—two re- volvers and two bowie-knives. finding these in good condition bill determined to give the party, on their re- turn, an interesting reception and trust to luck for the outcome. the stables were securely closed and the dug- out put in a state of defense. directly after three o'clock in the afternoon, true to their promise, the mccandlas boys, with eight of their desperate followers were seen approaching in a smart trot. as they came up to the stables, finding the doors locked, they called to bill to “come out of his shell” and deliver the horses, accompanying the command with a threat that if he refused there would be a small murder at rock creek and the stage company would have to en- gage another watchman. bill shouted back to his beleaguers that he would shoot the first man who attempted to open a stable door, and if there were any murdering done at rock creek there might also be more than one victim to bury. the ten villains were really elated with this reply, be- . cause they had a spite which found in this answer suf- ficient pretext for satisfying ; in short, they wanted to kill somebody in addition to increasing their horse corral, and bill, single handed, would make such an easy and choice victim! leaving their horses, which they first methodically tied to swinging limbs, jack mccandlas ordered his men to bring forward a log, which lay near the premises, and with this they began battering the door of the dug-out, which succumbed after a few heavy thrusts had been delivered. bill stood partly behind the old blanket, with the yager in hand and his other weapons lying on a rude table beside him, convenient to his grasp. when the door splintered and fell in jim wild bill's fight with the ms candless gano. : life of wild bill. mccandlas with a large revolver in one hand and a bowie- knife in the other, with a yell leaped across the thresh- hold, pressed by the others behind him. but the volun- tary leap ended in an involuntary spring into enternity, for bill received him with a discharge from the heavy rifle, sending an ounce ball directly through the despera- do's heart. jim never struggled after he fell, only drawing up his legs slightly, as if to give more room for the entrance of his comrades. scarcely was the blaze from the rifle extinguished before bill had seized his pistols and killed three more of his assailants before any of them reached him. the combat now became truly furious, for the six remaining cut-throats had gained the rear of the cabin and grappled with bill who continued pouring shots from a pistol while he began cutting right and left with his bowie. the gang were equally active, discharging bullets into bill's body, but owing to their number they fought to great disadvantage. one of the desperadoes struck bill over the head and knocked him backward across the table, and immediately jack mccandlas leaped on the prostrate and badly wounded man, and with knife uplifted was in the very act of sheathing the keen blade in the heart of his victim, but ere the thrust was accomplished bill shoved his pistol into mccandlas' breast and fired. the knife descended with great force, but the aim was deflected so that it struck in the table. mccandlas trembled for a moment with the chill of death that shot through his body, and with fierce but glazing eyes he dropped dead upon the floor. the bowie in bill's hands now did desperate work, plunging from one heart into another, and draw- ing great fountains of blood which spurted about until the floor was fairly flooded; but his own life current assisted largely to swell the bright red streams, for his heroes of the plains. body was punctured by bullet holes and knife thrusts, but the recesses of his life had not been touched and his strong arm continued to do its deadly work. six of the men who came to make of bill an easy victim now lay dead upon the floor, while two were desperately wounded and only two remained unharmed. finding in their foe such wonderful vitality and precision of deadly aim with pistol and knife the four beat a retreat, rushing out of the cabin pursued closely by bill. the two uninjured gained their horses and fled precipitately while another ran down the hill carrying such desperate wounds that he was unable to mount. the other could barely reach the foot of a large tree fifty yards from the cabin and there he was shot to death by bill with the gun wrested from doc. mills, who came upon the scene at this moment. the wounded man who escaped by running down the hill (bill being unable to pursue him because of his own desperate wounds,) managed by some means to reach the town of manhattan, several miles distant, where he died soon after from his terrible injuries. after the fight was ended bill, who had kept his feet only under the stimulant of excessive excitement, at once relapsed into an unconscious condition and was carried into the dug-out by his partner, and laid on the bed, which was saturated with blood. in about one hour afterward the western stage rolled up, containing six pas- sengers, among whom was capt. e. w. kingsbury, who is now a resident of kansas city, holding the position of chief of u. s. storekeepers for the western district of missouri, who afterward became one of bill's most intimate friends. the sight which presented itself to the gaze of the stage passengers, all of whom entered the cabin to view the havoc which one man had wrought, was most distressing to ordinary sensibilities. there lay, in life of wild bill. hideous death, six repulsive featured men, full of gaping wounds. bill remained in a semi-conscious state for some time, until one of the passengers, who chanced to be something of a surgeon, resuscitated him by means of brandy and cold water applications; and after a while he regained suf- ficient strength to give some of the particulars of the des- perate fight. while telling, in broken sentences, how he had been forced into a defense of the place, he used this expression : “when six of the crowd piled on me and one struck me with his gun, i thought my day had come, so i just got wild and slashed about, like a bear with a death-wound, and i guess that is how i came to get away with them." from that moment he was given the name of - wild bill,” which afterward so effectually super- ceded his real name, as well also as that of “shanghai bill,” that he went to his grave with that appellation and left all his deeds to history under that most appropriate nom de guerre. a careful examination of his wounds disclosed the fol- lowing, nearly any one of which it would appear was quite enough to kill an ordinary man: a fracture of the skull—the frontal bone; three terrible gashes in the breast; his left forearm cut through to the bone; four bullets in his body, one in his left hip and two through the fleshy part of his right leg ; his right cheek cut open, and the skin of his forehead cut so deeply that a large portion of the scalp dropped down so far over his eyes as to almost blind him. a surgeon was sent for, who came directly from manhattan, about seven miles distant, and old mrs. watkins, a five-mile distant neighbor, hearing of the encounter, came down to the cabin directly and volunteered to nurse the wounded hero through his dan- gerous extremity. for one month afterward his im- heroes of the plains. provement was almost imperceptible, but after that time his condition took a more favorable turn and his wounds healed so rapidly that in june following he was able to walk about, and was removed to denver, and in less than one year after the fight his recovery was complete. the stage company paid all of his expenses during the period of his confinement, but never otherwise recognized his faithfulness in defending their property. this combat, of one man fairly whipping ten acknowl- edged desperadoes, has no parallel, i make bold to say, in any authentic history. the fight has been described more than a hundred times in newspapers and periodicals, and was illustrated in harper's magazine, but all accounts heretofore have been marred by much fiction and gross inaccuracies. the particulars as here recorded are un- questionably correct, for they were obtained from capt. kingsbury, who heard bill's first recital of the facts right on the battle-ground; jolly, the man who escaped but died a few days afterward at manhattan, corroborated bill's statement of the facts, and dr. joshua thorne, one of the most prominent physicians in kansas city, who attended upon and was one of bill's confidantes, repeated to me the same story as he himself had heard his pa- tient relate it. these direct and most reliable sources, each affirming the same facts, leave no room for doubting the correctness of this account. chapter iii. leaving denver, wild bill went directly to leaven- worth, and his name being in nearly every person's mouth as the greatest fighter that had ever made a record, owing life of wild bill. to his annihilation of the mccandlas gang, gen. john c. fremont, in command at fort leavenworth, sent for him immediately upon hearing of his arrival, and offered him the position of brigade wagon master. at this time the great civil war had overshadowed everything else, and the adjoining borders of missouri and kansas had become the theater of a truly direful conflict. men of nerve and cunning were in great demand, for murder, under the color of justifiable war, was beginning to point its shivering finger at every highway where the blood of men had quenched the thirst of the earth. bill accepted the position, though not under enlistment, and directly thereafter he was ordered to conduct a provision train from the fort to sedalia, missouri. on the third day after their departure, a few miles inside the missouri line, the train was suddenly attacked by a company of confederates under capt. blunt, who, owing to the al- most unexampled cowardice of the men under bill- though numbering scarcely more than one dozen-cap- tured the outfit without meeting any resistance. resistance. how- ever, while the confederates easily made prisoners of his men, bill refused to surrender, and single-handed opened fire. being well mounted, he turned his horse toward kansas city, followed by fifty of the enemy. the chase continued for several miles, with a rapid exchange of shots, in which flying encounter bill killed four of his pursuers and escaped himself without injury. col. jen- nison had a considerable force under him at kansas city, and bill, reporting the circumstances of the capture of his train, two companies were hastily mounted and sent out to recover the property. bill accompanied the sol- diers, and by fast riding the confederates were struck within fifteen miles of the place where the first attack was made. a charge was at once ordered, at the head heroes of the plains. of which rode wild bill, who, considering the fact of his new commission, felt that he had been dishonored by the loss of his first charge. the fight was a short and de- cisive one, for the confederates, being taken by surprise, in return, speedily scattered and thus let their new acqui- sition again fall into the possession of the union troops. bill was very much elated over the result, and in triumph conducted the train into sedalia and immediately after- ward offered his services to gen. samuel r. curtis, who was acting under orders of gen. halleck, and who con- tinued him in the position to which gen. fremont had appointed him, until the spring of . during his engagement as wagon master, conveying supplies for curtis' army, which was operating against the confederate forces under gens. van dorn, price and mcculloch, the battle of pea ridge was fought (march th, th and th, ' ), in which bill became a voluntary participant, taking the part of a sharp shooter. he ob- tained an eligible location on the hill overlooking cross- timber hollow, and from behind a large log, where he lay concealed for nearly four hours, he killed, by actual count, thirty-five of the enemy, among his victims being gen. mcculloch. this dreadful execution served to direct the attention of a confederate company which de- · termined upon dislodging and killing him. the company charged up the hill, firing so rapidly that bill's fortifica- tion was punctured by bullets like a pepper box, and but for the timely relief of one hundred comrades who had recog- nized his dangerous position and charged down from the apex of the hill to the rescue, he would certainly have soon resembled his friendly log. the two companies met not more than one hundred yards from the spot where wild bill lay, and an engagement followed which was hy far the hottest of the entire battle, for the encounter came life of wild bill. hand to hand and the ground was so bitterly disputed that more than one half of each company was killed. soon after the battle of pea ridge gen. curtis, discov- ering the qualifications wild bill possessed, and knowing his history as a fighter on the plains, engaged him as a spy, with instructions to enter price's lines and collect necessary information as to the immediate and ultimate intentions of the confederate general. price had already laid waste a large portion of western missouri, besides recruiting his forces by the acquisition of many men and horses. he had been so successful in the campaign that the government was seriously alarmed, especially as mis- souri was never regarded as a loyal state, and it was gravely feared that a series of confederate successes in- side her borders might serve to carry the state out of the union, a proposition already seriously debated. it was for these reasons that gen. curtis had been specially em- ployed to operate against price and drive him from the state. immediately after bill's employment as a spy he was given a fine horse and directed to use his own means for entering the confederate lines. accordingly, he as- sumed the name of bill barnes and making a wide circuit through kansas and indian territory he entered arkansas below the western center and made directly toward lit- tle rock. arriving there he enlisted in a confederate company of mounted rangers which he knew was organ- izing under price's recruiting service to join the operating force in southwest missouri. in the latter part of september the company joined price, who, a few days after, formed a junction with gen. joe shelby on elk river, in newton county. here it was decided to make a stand and await the coming of curtis who was following swiftly after with a force slightlyinferior to that of the combined commands of price and shelby. hÉroes of the plains. bill received the appointment of orderly to gen. price within a week after his enlistment, a position which offer- ed special opportunities for acquiring information of the greatest value to curtis. on the d day of october the union forces drove in the confederate pickets on the north side of the river-or more properly creek—and at once the command prepared for battle. shelby lay on the extreme left, while price occupied the right, from which, being first in the command, he was to direct the engagement. while the armies were thus lying looking into the face of each other, separated only by a narrow creek and the rapidly approaching twilight which admon- ished each side to postpone the fight until the morrow, gen. price placed some dispatches in bill's hands and or- dered him to deliver them to shelby at once. the posi- tion of the daring spy had now become critical in the ex- treme. from the moment shelby had joined price, bill had been very anxious to communicate with curtis, but no opportunity was offered. but now that preparations had been made for battle it was more than important that he should gain the union lines, and he resolved to reach curtis at all bazards, a determination which he accom- plished by having recourse to the following dangerous strategy. in the company that had been recently recruit- ed at little rock was a large, lank arkansas desparado named jake lawson. he was a at drinking, shoot- ing, cutting and bloviating. his reputation for being a “rough customer” had caused him to be chosen 'ser- geant of the company, and the manner of his boasting led all his comrades to expect something brilliantly dar- ing from him during the campaign. taking the dis- patches from gen. price, wild bill, with a courteous sweep of his hand, mounted his horse and rode directly toward the left of the lines, but when he reached the life of wild bill. center,out of price's sight, he halted before his company and called for lawson. when the big bully came out of his tent bill, in a loud voice, so that all his comrades might hear the dialogue, addressed him as follows: “ see here, jake, let's have a little fun; these fellows have never been under fire, so suppose we give 'em a sample of our pluck so as to encourage them for to- morrow.” “well,” responded lawson, “what do you want to do? do you want to fight me with pistols at three paces, or do you prefer the bowie with the two ends of a hand- kerchief held in our teeth over the back of a chair?" “oh, no,” said bill, “nothing so bad as that, but i'll make you take water on a less dangerous experiment. i'll wager my horse against yours that i can ride closer to the enemy's line than you can.” lawson looked at bill a moment, and then tossing his head, as an evidence of disgust, walked again into his tent, when a laugh from those near the two caused him to stop • what's the matter with your nerve?” asked bill. “you ain't afraid, are you, jake?” “ no, i aint afeerd,” responded lawson, s but what's the use trying such infernal nonsense?” “none at all,” replied bill, "if you haven't got the sand to accept the challenge. i only wanted to see the real color of your character.” at this the boys began to laugh again, and several were bold enough to remark that it did look very much as though jake lawson was a bogus desperado. being pressed and taunted jake at length agreed to put his mettle as well as his horse against that of bill's, and the two mounting rode out, followed anxiously by the eyes of the entire company, until they came to an open heroes of the plains. space directly in view of the union forces. now, come on,” cried bill, who, putting spurs to his horse, dashed down toward the creek with lawson abreast, but about two rods west of him. the union pickets seeing the riders coming toward them, began firing, which brought into line the forces of both armies. upon reaching the bank of the stream bill, being in great danger himself p -eng.com a close shave. from the bullets of his friends, cried out : “ hold your fire, i'm wild bill, trying to get into the lines.” this remark, while it revealed him to his friends, also ex- posed his purpose to lawson and the confederates. see- ing now that he had been caught in a cunning trap the big sergeant attempted to draw his pistol, but bill's eyes were upon him and the next instant he had sent a ball life of wild bill. crashing through his brain, and as he fell his horse, gal- loping on, was caught by bill who spurred his own horse into the stream leading by the bridle that of the dead sergeant. by the time bill had reached the middle of the creek, making necessarily slow progress, the confed- erates poured down to the bank and more than fifty rifles were turned loose at the fugitive. the bullets were fall- ing about his head like mosquitoes swarming over fresh prey, splashing the water in his face and singing their enquiring impromptus fairly in his ears. truly, it was a position almost as hot as that which tradition tells us the hebrew trio occupied on a memorable occasion, but with- out the protection of a sacred guardianship bill passed through that fire of leaden hail without receiving the least injury. as he emerged on the opposite side of the stream, with the two horses, a great cheer of congratula- tion went up from curtis' men, and then a brisk engage- ment followed between the two opposing forces across the creek. with great respect wild bill placed in gen. curtis' hands the dispatches entrusted to him by gen. price for transmission to shelby, and imparted such other information as fully advised curtis of the strength and intentions of the confederates. the battle which was expected to take place on the following day was avoided by the confederates who, breaking camp that night, pushed onward into arkansas. remaining with curtis a few days, who continued the chase after the confederates, wild bill was requested to again enter the ranks of the enemy for information. repairing to a tent by himself for a while he spent the time in changing his appearance so as to escape detection, his make-up now was so ingenious that it was almost im- possible for gen. curtis himself to recognize him. from a sleek, trim and neat figure, with perfectly fitting clothes, heroes of the plains. he emerged from his tent one of the most woe-be-yone specimens of arkansaw travelers the country afforded. there was that idiomatic expression, too, which disfig- ured his voice equally as the clothes did his body. thus prepared for his dangerous mission, and accompanied by natt tuckett, an old and valuable friend, he again set out, going south-west, through the indian territory, and down into central texas where, at austin, he and tuckett joined the confederate forces under kirby smith. a few days afterward smith struck his tents and moved up into arkansas, that state having now become the theatre of a desperate conflict between divisions from both armies. curtis had pushed price and shelby until the debated ground had become like fighting a man on his own hearth-stone, and instead of seeking an open or de- cisive engagement his movements were now directed by a wholesome regard for possible results. smith reached the arkansas river near lewisburg, in conway county, and while there encamped his advance scouts reported the approach of curtis with a force of five thousand men and two pieces of light ordnance. the respective com- mands were about equal, though smith was without any field guns. there being a ferry at lewisburg the con- federates made a crossing and pushed forward to gain an advantage ground and throw up breastworks so as to re- ceive the federals while in line of march. but the sur- prise was not accomplished, as curtis was an officer of great caution and being in the enemy's own country he kept his advance well guarded. locating smith, curtis halted, in line of battle, on a little knoll about one thou- sand yards from the position occupied by the confeder- ates, and bringing his two ten pound guns into action, he began a brisk shelling with the hope of dislodging the enemy and bringing on an engagement in the opening. lite of wild bill. but smith immediately despatched back for reinforce- ments and remained sullenly silent, receiving the fire of the federals passively, as in fact it was wholly ineffec- tual. the position of the two armies remained unchanged for more than an hour, the field-pieces continuing their rapid discharges and the shells screaming apparently only for the amusement of both sides. suddenly there were de- scried two horsemen leaping from the breastworks and making a bold and rapid dash toward the federal lines. more than a minute elapsed before a shot was fired, which clearly indicated that the confederates had either dis- patched the riders for some singular purpose, or else did not themselves at first comprehend the strange action. but surprise was terminated and curiosity satisfied by a rapid discharge of musketry followed by a dozen cavalry- men well mounted and in rapid pursuit. now the ride began in earnest and a wild one it proved to be. the federals at once saw that the two first riders were fugi- tives from the confederate lines and a hurrah went up, which swelled on the air like an engagement with new brigades just brought into action. for the first two or three hundred yards a regular distance was maintained between the pursued and pursuers, but after this two from the latter party began to distance their comrades and gain on the deserters. comirg jo a broad ditch the hcese of one cleared it with a bound while the other rider went down with a mortal wound from the pistols of the two nearest pursuers. the next moment the single fu- grive was seen to wheel his horse and, putting out his arms, two whiffs of smoke ascended and the two pursuers fell under their horses feet and lay so still that it was un- necessary to inquire if their wounds were mortal. the fugitive tuen rode into the federal linea waving his broad heroes of the plains. sombrero over his head but with tears coursing rapidly down his sun-burnt cheeks. it was wild bill, the spy, who had performed this perilous feat, starting out in company with his friend tuckett who now lay dead by the ditch midway between the two armies. with an es- cort of three men bill rode back and recovered the body of his beloved comrade and then with due solemnity it was buried in a green spot on the hillside near the bat- tery. the motive which prompted this remarkable ride can- not be divined. of course bill had important information to convey to gen. curtis, but other means might have been employed, more consistent with good judgment, to reach the federal lines. it was, however, no less singular that bill thus comported himself at all times during his service as a spy; though wonderfully strategic yet he took chances which no other spy would have tolerated in a companion, for he exposed himself almost constantly to detection, and trusted to boldness, swiftness, and his ac- curacy of aim for escape; and with these, or good luck, he managed to avoid the usual penalties of indiscretion. after getting back from his second expedition as a spy in the confederate lines, bill requested a short vacation, and returned to leavenworth, kansas, where he met william cody who had not yet gained the well-known title of - buffalo bill.” the two had met before the war and an intimacy bad sprung up, growing out of an incident which occurred directly after cody first entered the em- ploy of russell, majors & waddell, as camp boy in . billy,” as he was called, being at that time only twelve years of age, though brave as a young catamount, became the special object of aversion to one of the bull-drivers, a great big, blustering, overbearing desperado. under a slight pretext this bully struck “ billy” one day while life of wild bill. >> in camp, knocking him backward over a log. wild bill witnessed this unprovoked assault and, making two steps forward, he struck the bully a blow in the face which sent him sprawling ten feet away while the blood spurted from his nose in a torrent. it was a clean knock-down which took the overbearing brute with such surprise that he scarcely realized from whence the blow came. but he saw wild bill standing over him, and took excellent heed of the admonition “never to lay hands on that boy again." when wild bill met cody in leavenworth he was un- der engagement to take a government train to rolla, missouri, and he asked cody to go with him, which the latter was glad to do. after reaching rolla the two con- tinued their companionship to st. louis, taking with them a fine race-horse that bill had used in scouting ser- vice, intending to enter the st. louis races which were advertised to take place in september. bill and cody had been saving up some money, and between them they counted up about $ , principally in paper money of state bank issue. the two went out to the race-course in fine spirits, confident of securing a goodly stake, be- cause they harbored the suspicion that their horse was very deceptive in his appearance and that this advantage they would turn to good account. their only concern was in getting their bets taken, for they felt so certain that “ old mountain," as the horse was called, could easily run away with any animal the st. louis jockeys could produce that a perfectly natural anxiety was felt for the prime consideration–bettors. bill conducted the negotiations, cody having entrusted him with this part of the business, laying his last cent in his comrade's hands. there were no combinations or pool selling, the races being conducted on a regular, heroes of the plains. old time basis. bill moved around among the crowd making offers, and his success in getting takers filled him with happiness, “ for you know,” said he to cody, who believed him implicitly, “ we've got a dead sure thing." after putting up all their money they next wagered the horse against $ , and having exhausted all their portables the race was prepared for. cody, a spare, but trimly made young fellow, one of the best riders that ever sat on horse-back, was stripped to handle - old mountain.' the race was with a little black mare owned by a party from peoria, very neatly coupled, with all the marks of a genuine courser, and was ridden by a negro boy. the preliminaries being arranged the two horses were brought up before the judges and sent off in elegant style, no advantage. “old mountain," however, had not de- ceived the st. louis boys so much as he had drawn the ..wool down over the eyes of his backers, and as the little black mare sped away, lifting up the dust so that it fairly hid “old mountain,” cody gathered the impression, dis- agreeable as it was, that “the dead sure thing” had been transferred to other parties. how he did try to unlimber his favorite ! and he was now as unsparing of the whip as he had been before the race in laying his wagers. when they passed under the home-stretch bill and cody looked, for all the world, like the fellow who has bought a goid brick," it was stolen you know, and lere is a fortune for a few dollars_but finds on in- spection that there has been a slight mistake-a veneer- ing of gold over a genuine brick of brass. our two heroes were woefully “ busted," and away out of their element, because they did not know a single person in st. louis. sorry enough plight, but, like a clause in the declaration of independence, “ when, in lite of wild bill. the course of human events, it becomes necessary to beard the lion in his lair, the indian in his wigwam, or the wood-chuck in his hole—when you're out of meat,” etc., our two knights of the empty pocket-book passed appro- priate resolutions which, being acted upon, resulted in wild bill going up to military headquarters where he en- gaged himself as scout. being well known by his repu- tation, he was forced to put this in pawn for twenty dol- lars, which he turned over to his badly damaged protege. cody returned to leavenworth while bill went directly to springfield and from this point located and again joined curtis, where we find him in the adventure described in the following chapter. chapter iv. curtis was continuing his operations down along the arkansas river in , and wild bill having reported for duty curtis again employed him to strike the confeder- ate lines and especially to learn the designs of van dorn and price, who were so quiet that curtis suspicioned they were meditating plans for another invasion of missouri. one of his chief concerns, and which gave rise to this con- clusion, was the success of quantrell and his band of guerillas, who were laying waste the western counties of missouri and pillaging the people of eastern kansas. taking up the burden of this third dangerous mission bill rode directly across the country until he struck the old santa fe trail, which he followed three days, bring- ing him into the western part of kansas; then striking due south he passed through the indian territory and en- heroes of thl plains. tered texas, going thence east along the border to the southwestern corner of arkansas where, after reaching texarkana, he stopped a few days, representing himself as a texas drover. from this point he rode eastward until he came to the house of an old negro near the post- office of buffalo, in ouachita county. reaching the lit- tle old log cabin late in the afternoon, bill dismounted, and entering into conversation with the aged darkey he discovered the house was occupied by only the old fellow and his wife. a series of questions soon convinced bill that the negro was loyal at heart and could be depended on to keep a secret. shortly after his arrival supper was prepared by the old negro woman, consisting of genuine hoe-cake and crisply fried bacon, and the meal being concluded bill interviewed his guests regarding the condition of their part of the country and the location of confederate forces. he was pleased to learn that while these old people appeared extremely ignorant yet they had been very anxiously observant of the confederate and federal movements, and therefore were possessed of much in- formation valuable to him. on the following morning bill arose early and going out to a stable on the premises, his own horse having been stabled the evening previous by the old darkey, he discovered a jackass of ancient countenance standing in that reverential and resigned position which only an ass can assume perfectly. an idea of great consequence im- mediately moved bill to return to the house, disclose a part of his purposes to the sable old uncle, change his habit of dress, and make a goodly provision for safely entering the confederate lines. said bill to his colored host : “ i see, uncle, you have a jackass in the stable, does he belong to you?” life of wii,d bill. “yes, sah," responded the old man, “i'se had dat dare, animule fo’de last ten yeahs; but he's gittin' a good deal like his marster now, not much 'count, sah; but i reckon ef he hadn't been so used up de confeds would a had 'im afore dis." “yes," said bill, - i guess that is so; he don't look like a very valuable brute, but at the same time he is such a curious looking specimen that i've got an idea he would suit me for a purpose i now have in view. how would you like to trade your jack for my horse?” “well, now, dat is a funny propersishun foh' you to make, case i haint got nuffin' to give you to boot.' “ but i don't want any boot; you bring out the jack and let my horse stay in the stable, if that kind of a trade will suit you.” “ yah, yah, yah ; why, marster, you doan mean dat, does you? afore god dat would be de mos' curiousest bargan l’se hearn on; why, i declaar ef the confeds would see dat hoss in my stable dey'd want to know how i got ’im right away, and i guess dey would take me too in order to settle de title." “ i'll tell you how to do; if anybody wants to know anything about that horse, you tell them that he is a stray that you have taken up, and that you're expecting the owner along every day.” “now, if you is a foolin' me go away, but ef you is in yarnest, why dar is de jack and i'll try and keep de hoss.” “well, i'll just charge you one thing to boot, and that is, if you have an old suit of clothes about the house that you don't care to use much longer, i will take them ; will you agree to that?" “yes, sah, i'll call de old woman and see what she's got tucked away in de loft. nancy ! oh, nancy!" yelled heroes of the plains. the old darkey. hearing herself called, the old woman left her corn cake on the clapboard before the fire, and thrusting her bandana covered head through the door, responded : “what does you want, silas ?”' why, i wants you to look on de peg by de chimbley and get me dat dar last sunday-suit of geans, and bring it hayer.” the clothes were brought cut in obedience to this com- mand and submitted to bill for inspection. there was a pair of pants of saffron complexion, with a respectable rent in the left knee; the vest was an indigo blue re- lieved by cross stripes of flaming red, and the coat was made with due regard for the ground color of the vest, but in matter of ornamentation the coat took a decided precedence, for, although the buttons bore a diversified character, they were, nevertheless, genuine brass and large enough for shields. the clothes fitted bill quite as well as he desired, and with a big hat made of course unbleached straw he was ready with his patient jackass for the campaign. he had purposely allowed his whiskers to grow to considerable length and his hair had put off the neatly combed polish by which he was so well known. having so completely disguised his usual appearance bill felt that it would be impossible for anyone to distin- guish him in a crowd of corner-store natives; so, setting out mounted on his novel conveyance, and carrying an old shot-gun, he traveled without fear of detection until he reached pine bluff, where a division of van dorn's army was stationed. after looking around the place one day he went up to head-quarters and offered his services as a private in the confederate army. upon presenting himself to a recruiting sergeant that official could not re- frain from laughing heartily at the astonishing and grotesque figure standing before him. life of wild bill. “well, sir," said the sergeant, “ where the devil did you come from?" “oh,” responded bill, “i got a little cabin up here in the ozarks, where i've been livin' in a patch o'clearin' with this here jack and bowlegs for the last twenty year. “who is bowlegs?” asked the sergeant. “why, look a here, mister,” replied bill, “ haven't you wild bill in disguise. never hearn o' bowlegs, the greatest wildcat and bar kill- er in the whole o' arkansaw? bowlegs is my dog, and ef ycu'd a seed him two months ago tackle a catamount, up on huckleberry hill, bigger'n my jack, you'd a bet the last bristle on yer back that he could whip anything that ever wore hair or straddled the devil's backbone. you see, the neighborhood had been a losin' o' pigs an' calfs for a long time, though pigs an' calfs is a scarce article up on the hill, an' heroes of the plains. “well, never mind the dog," growled the officer; “we haven't time now to hear your account of bowlegs; we'll take for granted that he is the best fighter on the devil's backbone (the ozark range of mountains is sometimes thus called), but we want men now that can fight just like your dog. do you harbor the suspicion that you can do as good fighting as bowlegs, especially if we should set you on a drove of yankees?" “i think i mought make a full hand ef you'll fernish me with the amernition ; i got plenty caps jest now, but my powder an’ shot is kinder run low,” replied bill. at this unsophisticated remark the sergeant and all those about him broke out in an almost uncontrollable fit of laughter, which lasted for several minutes ; but during all their cachinations bill stood in mute astonishment, as if he had done something which conclusively established the fact that he was the most stupendous fool on earth. recovering himself at length, the sergeant asked: “you don't suppose our soldiers fight with shot-guns, and such weapons as that you have in your hand, do you?” opening his eyes in apparent wonder, bill replied : “on course i do, case hain't shot-guns better ner squirrel rifles by a durn’d sight?” the conversation finally terminated by the enlistment of bill and the appraisement of his jackass, everyone supposing that the droll ignorance of the new recruit would furnish a constant diversion for the company to which he should be assigned. after some weeks were spent in camp the division was ordered to pine bluff, bill being a private in co. i, under capt. leverson. curtis, leading his army of the frontier, was also marching in the direction of duvall’s bluff with the intention of cutting off and destroying the confederate supplies collecting at that point. life of wild bith. sas. before reaching the bluffs, marching overland, the confederate troops were reinforced by three hundred men who had been reconnoitering in advance of price. on the following day after this junction was made a cor- poral who had been with price in the engagement near perryville and was a witness to the famous ride made by bill and nat. tucket, being attracted by the assumed eccentricities of the spy, finally discovered, under all his cunning disguise, the daring wild bill, whose name was on the lips of every confederate in missouri and arkan- the corporal lost no time in reporting his discov- ery, and in a trice a detail of twelve men dropped their loaded guns and covered the body of bill so effectually that any attempt at escape would have resulted in certain death. a court-martial was at once organized and the spy placed on trial. his conviction was secured in an hour's time and he was sentenced to be shot on the fol. lowing morning. in a memorandum bill made concerning this event he says: “the rebs convicted me on mighty little evidence, and here i am now in a bad pickle; it may be that they will shoot me to-morrow, but somehow i feel that some means of escape will offer. curtis must be very near, for he has been reported, in camp, as coming like the devil beating bark, on a straight trail for the bluffs. something tells me that i will get out of this, and this feeling gives me nerve. i'll keep a lookout and see what's what.” how this entry was made in his journal, while he was under a close guard, is not explained, but it is probable that he wrote it after his escape to indicate his feelings while under conviction, when the chances of escape were least favorable. immediately after the trial was concluded—it being held in the evening while the division was encamped, — heroes of the plains. bill was removed to a small log hut, and to prevent the possibility of escape, as van dorn assumed, his arms were securely pinioned and a guard set over him to watch every movement. about midnight a dreadful storm of wind and rain began, which raged with great violence until morning. bill's guard being very much fatigued, owing to the long march during the day, and trusting too much in his ability to rouse himself at the slightest movement made by the prisoner, sat down beside the closed door and gradually dozed off to sleep. bill, having his hands strongly tied, saw how easily he could escape had the gyves about his wrists been a little less tightly drawn ; but every twist of his hands only served to break the skin under the unyielding thongs. this painful suspense and lapsing opportunity continued until nearly three o'clock in the morning, when golden fortune, who always gives her hand to the brave in their last extremity, disclosed to his sight the very slightly protruding handle of an old case- knife, the blade of which was hidden in the depths of an auger-hole. most glorious vision! the bright portal of life! the realms of beatific possibility. ; aye, the smoothe pathway leading from the black shadows of death out into the gorgeous light of salvation! how precious must have appeared that old, worn-out, rusted, broken piece of steell to the condemned spy it was worth more than all the castles of polished ivory that the fabled arabian magi could have created, “ for what will a man not give to save his own life?" stealthily creeping from the corner in which he was seated, bill drew himself by inches toward the old knife, while the beating of his heart sounded to him like the long roll call. gradually he grew nearer and nearer, until at last, crouching for a moment, he arose with his back life of wild bill. against the log walls and seized the rusty handle in his pinioned hands. but still he was not free; unable to make much available use of his hands, he withdrew the knife and then pushed the handle into the auger-hole, leaving a small part of the blade out; he then began rub- bing the ropes between his wrists across the dull and rusted blade, until after what seemed to him an age of い​リク ​port c.s.a photo nq.a wild bill surprises the sleepy sentinel. hard labor he felt the cords loosen ; they were cut and he was now a man with all the vigor god had so bounteously lodged in his well developed sinews. bill did not wait long after cleaving the ropes which bound his hands, to put into execution one of those bold and desperate methods which serve to make his name im- heroes of the plains. perishable. taking the old case-knife in his right hand, he sprang upon the slumbering guard and in an instant the rusted blade was thrust into the throat of the sleeping victim and his neck almost severed in twain. not a word escaped from the unconscious sentinel as the rusty knife flashed across his throat and let out the life-blood. bill quickly stripped the dead guard of coat and hat, and placing them upon himself, with musket in hand, he stealthily left the log house and by aid of the darkness made good his escape, gaining curtis' army on the fol- lowing day. this really marvelous escape from death impressed every one acquainted with the circumstances, with the extraordinary good luck and strategy which seemed never to forsake wild bill, but this impression was specially conspicuous among van dorn's men, many of whom, be- ing almost as ignorant as bill had professed to be in joining the confederate forces, honestly believed he was leagued with the devil and that he could not be killed. chapter v. after finding himself secure in the federal lines again, bill immediately called on gen. curtis and imparted a great deal of useful information which resulted in much advantage to the union forces, for the army moved at once and intercepted van dorn before he reached du- vall’s bluff. here a hot battle was fought in which the confederates were routed, a large amount of their stores captured, and the supply post occupied by the victorious federals. but bill positively refused to enter the ene- lite of wild bill, my's lines again, because he was now so well known in the confederate army operating west of the mississippi that to make another such attempt would be subjecting himself to almost certain death. he continued scouting, however, for some time afterward, and frequently went in the guise of a confederate officer in order to secure the confidence of southern sympathizers, from whom much useful knowledge concerning the movements of confederate troops was from time to time obtained. in price made his second invasion into missouri and gen. daviess was ordered to harass his rear until curtis could return and reorganize a second campaign against the invaders. southern missouri had become the camping ground of confederate detachments, and to operate against these bands gen. daviess established his headquarters at rolla. wild bill, being. well acquainted in rolla, visited that place in the summer of and re- ported to headquarters for a commission to scout in the southern part of the state. daviess was glad to secure his services, for several of the adjacent counties were seriously infested with independent bushwhackers claim- ing authority for their acts under confederate commis- sions. while the camp was quietly waiting for curtis to re- port from some point in missouri where a junction might be formed, on the th of july bill mounted his horse and without acquainting any one with his purpose, re- solved to make a private expedition through the southern part of phelps county. he accordingly set out unaccom- panied and rode directly south, passing by pilot knob and through elk prairie, meeting no one and finding no evidence of hostile occupation. near the post village of lake spring, in the timber skirting a tributary of the meramec river, however, he suddenly came upon three heroes or the plains, men well mounted and carrying carbines, with pistols in their outside belts. the trio, without proceeding by in- terrogatories to learn anything about bill, commanded him to dismount, accompanying the order with a threat to shoot him if he delayed an instant. without attempting any parley or considering the odds against him, bill threw up his pistol, which he had in his right hand hang- ing on the off side of his horse, out of sight, and almost in the glance of an eye, he shot the three with such pre- cision that each tumbled to the ground with a mortal wound. one of the bushwhackers, however, while in the throes of death, summoned enough strength to raise on his elbow and fire at bill, the bullet striking his sad- dle bow but doing him no personal injury. the three now riderless horses, frightened by the fir- ing, ran away, but fortunately all kept close together. bill went at once in pursuit of the animals, one of which was a beautiful little black mare which he was specially anxious to possess. the chase continued for nearly six hours before bill succeeded in capturing the three horses, but as they were running in the direction of rolla, no time was lost. tying the heads of the animals together le led them back to camp as prizes of war, making due report to his commanding officer. gen. daviess, not having been made acquainted with bill's expedition, was at a loss to determine what had be- come of him, when suddenly witnessing his re-appear- ance rrith three horses, he at once concluded that bill had been engaged in making reprisals from non-belliger- ants, assuming a stern look the general enquired of him : . you have been out of camp for four days without leave; where have you been operating, and where did you get those horses?" lite of wild bill. bill looked for a moment steadily at the general, whose gaze, instead of reiaxing, bore sterner evidence of his be- lief that the horses had been stolen. feeling keenly the suspicion, bill answered in an imperious manner, “ i'm not a private soldier, and as a scout i go where i please. the horses have been turned over to you, therefore i must say it's none of your d-d business where i got them." this insubordinate attitude and insulting language threw gen. daviess into a violent fit of anger, and in- tending some severe punishment he ordered bill's arrest and confinement in the guard house. the command was promptly obeyed and the cavalier scout was hur- riedly conveyed to prison. on the same evening, about nine o'clock, as the general was riding around the post he was astonished at seeing bill salute him from the sidewalk. without saying a word to the mys- teriously liberated scout he rode directly to the guard house and in a thundering tone demanded of the guards why will bill had been permitted to escape. his aston- ishment greatly increased, however, when they assured the general that bill was in the guard house ; but an ex- amination soon showed that they had been cleverly deceived; for it was soon discovered that one of the other prisoners, whose term of service expired that even- ing, had changed clothes with bill and himself remained in durance in order to give the popular scout his liberty. this devoted comradezhip so affected gen. daviess that he at once pardoned the man who had contrived bill's escape, and ordering both men to be sent to his headquarters, he repaired there himself to give them an unexpected greeting. when bill and his devoted friend entered the general's office they were received with the greatest cordiality and heroes of the plains. invited to fill up on some extra cogniac used by the gen- eral only on special occasions. after speaking in the · most feeling manner of the value of true comradeship, and complimenting the friendship which prompted one of his guests to sacrifice his own liberty to secure that of the other, the general turned to bill and in a courteous and defferential manner asked him to relate the adventure by which he had come into possession of the horses. first excusing his hasty and insubordinate reply made during the day, bill told the general all the circumstances of his private expedition, and in proof of his assertion he asked gen. daviess to send a party of men with him back to the spot wherė the fight took place, agreeing to produce the bodies of his victims. accordingly on the following day a detail of his men accompanied bill back to the banks of the meramac tributary where the bodies of the three bushwhackers were found and properly buried. after the events here recorded gen. daviess became one of bill's warmest friends, and had many other proofs of his great valor and services before the campaign of closed. the little black mare captured from the bushwhackers, by bill's urgent request, he was permitted to retain, and this animal afterward became one of the most famous horses ever bred in america. being black as a raven, with limbs rounded with all the beautiful symmetry seen in the choicest blooded animals, she would attract marked attention among all the horses of the world. bill gave her the name of black nell, and giving much care to her training, she became the heroine of many adventures, which will be recorded in a subsequent chapter. early in january, , gen. (urtis, having again driven price and shelby out of missouri, established his headquarters at fort leavenworth, where he could more life of wild bill. readily observe the movements of guerrillas who contin- ued harassing convoys, couriers and weak posts in east- ern kansas and western missouri. wild bill remained in the service as chief of scouts, but he was employed a greater part of the time in missouri. in february, man-to-yu-kee (conquering bear), one of the sub-chiefs of the sioux indians, a friendly tribe man-to-yu-kee (conquering bear.) under the command of gen. jim lane, came into fort leavenworth and reported to gen. curtis the encamp- ment of five hundred choctaw warriors ten miles west of lawrence, on the kaw river. the choctaw and cherokee indians, also some of the creeks and osages, were employed as soldiers by the confederates, and although they performed very little service, yet the entire country, heroes of the plains. especially eastern kansas, was dreadfully excited over an anticipated indian massacre of whites. consequently, when conquering bear became the messenger of such news, reporting the fierce choctaws in such close prox- imity, there was no little apprehension created even in the mind of the gallant curtis. sending for wild bill, whose acquaintance with the indian character was thorough, curtis recited the facts as reported by conquering bear, and then asked him what course of action he would advise. the reply was fully characteristic of the man's readi- ness to brave any danger where his services might prove of value. said bill : “ the indian is a mighty uncertain animal, and those that profess the greatest friendship are very frequently the most deadly enemies. i'll tell you my idea : you send me back to the sioux camp with this chief, and before i return, you can depend on it i will know how many choctaws are near lawrence and what they are up if i'm not back here in four days, just put it down. that i've dropped my scalp.” curtis replied: “it looks to me as though such a trip would be very hazardous if the hostile indians are really near lawrence, unless you should take one or two hun- dred men with you.' “ i don't want any one with me,” answered bill, “ ex- cept conquering bear, and if he deceives me or is trying to lay some devilish trap, then one of us will lift the other's hair. no, i will only take black nell, and am prepared to leave here for the indian camp early to-morrow morning.” “well,” responded curtis, “if you think it possible to penetrate the indian camp, or learn the exact location and intention of the choctaws, i think the importance to. " life of wild bill. with you of learning these facts warrant me in sending you; there- fore, whatever you may require it shall be provided, and i can only hope for your safe return.” bill sent for the indian chief, and after acquainting him with gen. curtis' desire, said: "i shall go directly to your people, and then i shall expect you to guide me to the hostile camp; but remember, if you de- ceive me in the least thing, one of us will have to die.” the indian made many assuring promises that his loy- alty to the union and enmity to the choctaws alone prompted his desire to lead the federal troops into the enemy's camp. on the following day, pursuant to the arrangements, wild bill and the indian started for lawrence, which place they reached the same evening, and shortly after- ward went through the sioux camp. leaving there after night, the two proceeded westward until suddenly, in the darkness, conquering bear gave a singular whoop, and, hiding quickly in the bushes, left bill surrounded by a band of choctaws. the treachery of the sioux chief was now plainly apparent, and bill saw that he had been pur- posely led inside the hostile pickets. the indians rushed out from every side, but the darkness was so profound that bill was screened from his enemies, three of whom he killed when they came too close. his little black mare, with the intelligence of a scout herself, was so obedient that by a tap of the hand she lay down or ran from covert to covert as bill desired. the indians, in the meantime, ran upon one another in the darkness, being unable to locate their would-be victim, and by a series of strategies, such as giving the indian whoop and other signals which bill well knew, he managed to elude the choctaws, and finally escaped without receiving the least injury. after an absence of nearly four days bill returned to fort leavenworth and made due report to gen. curtis heroes of the plains. of the circumstances of his trip, and thereupon asked for a leave of absence for one week. his request being granted, bill went directly to lawrence and began active endeavors looking to a personal meeting with conquering bear. being well acquainted with the language and pe- culiarities of the sioux, bill soon found opportunity for sating his revenge. a young warrior from the tribe be- ing seen walking the streets of lawrence, bill approached him cleverly and by a liberal treatment to whisky and gew-gaws soon gained his confidence and friendship. through this intermediary bill was not long in reaching conquering bear, who, through promises of a secret re- ward awaiting him at a spot three miles east of the town, was easily allured to a sequestered place unaccompanied except by the young fellow who had faithfully followed bill's instructions. the two indians were proceeding slowly as if expect- ing to meet with some persons bearing rich rewards, when suddenly bill rose out of his hiding place and confronted the dusky traitor. for a moment they stood perfectly still, eyeing each other, one filled with fear, the other with desire for revenge. drawing from his belt two pis- tols bill threw one to conquering bear and told him to defend himself; but the indian knew the deadly aim of his antagonist and refused to fight with the pistol. bill then told him he had either to fight or suffer the death of the dog he was. conquering bear tried to parley, but being forced to accept immediate terms for a fight, he at length chose the knife, the long, keen-pointed bowie, with a blade two inches in width and an edge sharp as death’s visage. men on the border invariably carry this desperate weapon, and conquering bear was an expert in its use, but not more proficient than was bill ; each could throw the blade through the body of a one-inch sapling life of wild bill. at the distance of ten paces, and in the manual exercise with a bowie they were truly professional. bill quickly accepted the terms proposed by the indian and in a cool and calculating manner selected a level spot and then instructed the indian youth to prepare it for the duel. this he did by kicking off the leaves and twigs and drawing a circle ten feet in diameter in which the contestants were to meet each other. the arrange- ments having been perfected, bill stepped inside the cir- cle and called to conquering bear, but the indian acting as though fear had transfixed him, stood motionless until bill threatened to shoot him dead in his tracks if he did not engage in combat at once. this threat aroused him, and with a lithesome spring he leaped inside the imagin- ary enclosure, his great knife gleaming in his right hand, which was raised to a level with his face. the two mor- tal enemies as they stood for a moment calculating the opportunities for a first deadly thrust, were objects of really magnificent terror. such beauty of physical pro- portions and such an exhibition of marvellous courage were doubtless never before witnessed in a personal com- bat as, with breasts bared to the steel, the two antago- nists glared at each other a moment before commencing the deadly onset. bill was the first to make a motion, stepping forward quickly one pace and delivering a feint ; the indian drew back, but partly stooped as if to make a rush, then like two enraged lions they sprang at each other, meeting in the center of the ring, and catching the points of their knives they remained clashed together for several minutes. there now succeeded a violent strug- gle, their dreadful weapons remaining edge to edge, while the left hand of each was around the other's body, every muscle standing out in great ridges, evidencing the terrible strain produced by the efforts of each to throw heroes of the plains. or disadvantage the other. like two fighting bull-dogs when both secure a strong hold, clinging tenaciously un- til exhaustion forces a relinquishment of the grasp ; it was thus that bill and his antagonist clung to each other. until tired nature caused a separation. their eyes, how- ever, kept faithful watch during a brief respite in the encounter. after a lapse of fully ten minutes the indian, having recovered from his first fright, was the first to advance for a re-engagement, but bill showed equal anxiety to begin the desperate work, and both being intensely en- raged the second encounter produced frightful results. they came together with terrific force, but with marvel- lous dexterity each expert caught the knife of the other on the edge of their respective weapons. but they did not clinch this time, for they now foresaw only ex- haustion in such tactics which might permit an almost resistless execution of the one of the least endurance, each doubting his own superiority. a few moments were spent in feints, change of positions, backing and advancing until conceiving his opportunity, bill gave a terrible thrust at the indian's heart, but a buckle on the swarthy warrior's breast diverted the blow from its pur- pose; the knife was deflected slightly after striking, but went downward with such force that it cut through the indian's jacket and opened a fearful gash, several inches in length, in his side, from which the blood gushed in tor- rents. but in giving his enemy this dreadful wound bill did not escape without serious injury. seeing the thrust made, the indian struck hard at bill's heart, but the knife was caught in the scout's left arm and struck to the bone near the shoulder point and stripped the flesh half way to his elbow. from these two wounds the ground soon became covered with blood, and yet the fight wild bill's duel with conquering bear. life of wild bill. continued while the strength of each flowed rapidly away. the indian grew weak very fast now, and realiz- ing that if victory came to him it must be through an effort speedily made, he thrust at bill with great violence and precision, but the dextrous scout skillfully parried the effort and the next instant his knife went through the neck of conquering bear, splitting through the tendons, and cutting the jugular vein. with a convulsive twinge of the body and straightening of the right arm the in- dian fell forward, burying his tightly clutched knife in the ground to the hilt. the young indian who had remained a horrified spec- tator of this most terrible of all personal conflicts, seeing the chief fall dead went up to bill at once and bandaged his wounded arm, so that the flow of blood was partly stopped. bill returned to lawrence and on the same day left for kansas city, where he placed himself in charge of his old physician and friend, dr. joshua thorne. but the wound was an obstinate one, and caused him pain and annoyance for years afterward. this memorable battle was fought on the d day of january, . the object of conquering bear's treachery in trying to compass the death of wild bill, was, no doubt, to obtain a reward that had been offered by some of bill's enemies to accomplish their cowardly purposes. these rewards were very frequent immedi- ately after the close of the war, some of which and the circumstances under which they were offered, will be described in subsequent chapters. the indian boy who had served bill in this matter was duly recompensed; in addition to a liberal receipt of money, bill took him to kansas city, gave him many advantages and finally went back with him to the sioux, upon the niobrara river, where their reservation lay. heroes of the plains. chapter vi. after the close of the civil war, wild bill decided to quit the states for a while and pass a season on the nio- brara trapping for beaver and otter. he was encouraged in this decision by the young indian who had aided him so materially in satisfying his vengeance against con- quering bear. this young buck whom bill, in his diary, calls joe, had returned with his tribe, after the close of their operations along the kaw river, to their res- ervation in nebraska, and had frequently begged bill to pass a season with him on the niobrara. after the kill- ing of man-to-yu-kee, the sioux entertained a very ex- alted opinion of bill, particularly because the dead chief had been exceedingly unpopular among his own people. these several circumstances, added to which game for the trap was reported as being abundant on the niobrara, which ran through the sioux reservation, influenced bill to depart för that country in the fall of . among the sioux was a sister of indian joe, named mary logan, whom bill declares was a direct descendant of the great chief of that name, though there was a goodly amount of white blood in her veins. this girl was about eighteen years of age when bill first became acquainted with her, and he rarely mentioned her with- out going into raptures over her beauty. within a few days after he first met mary logan he could not avoid observing the love which was lighted in her heart; she lingered about him as though influenced by some magnetic or mesmeric force; hungered for the honey of his words and her eyes bespoke the admiration in which she held him. her bounteous hospitality and persuasive words, together with the persistent solicitations life of wild bill. of her brother joe, finally induced bill to make her home his own during the season. this home was only a little log cabin containing a single room, with a large fire- place, before which hung, almost constantly, many pieces of jerked venison, antelope and buffalo meat. it was not such a place as love usually selects to build her bowers, but this indian maiden admired the white face, and more especially the comely, symmetrical features of wild bill, whose fame as the most daring of western heroes, had been disseminated among every indian tribe west of the mississippi river. being unable at last to endure his absence, mary lo- gan begged bill to allow her to accompany him on his rounds in examining his traps, and to be with him on his frequent hunts, a privilege which he gladly permitted, for the girl was very handsome, excellent company, and so devoted to him that her constant care was for his happi- ness. the cabin in which the logans and wild bill lived, was so circumscribed in its limits that the single room was made to subserve all the purposes of an indian fam- ily, which are, of course, but few. this intimate com- panionship continued for a period of six months, during which time bill had taught the girl how to read and write, indifferently but yet intelligibly. notwithstand- ing this truly remarkable intimacy, in many particulars equally close as the most devoted man and wife, bill always declared that the girl never lost her virtue, that her honesty was almost phenomenal, for she would readily have sacrificed her life rather than have forfeited the jewel of her chastity. there is something in this poor indian girl's character which is pathetically beauti- ful; an uncultivated bud in the great garden of god's diversified creation ; reared in her own simplicity and heroes of the plains. protected by no words of wise counsel or warning, noth- ing but the shield of her innate innocence. her love was pure as the fountain at its source, as sweet as the nectar of heaven's own distillation, as coy and confiding as the soul that gives itself into the keeping of a loved one. the trapping season having closed and spring time drawing on apace, wild bill bade his prairie maiden adieu and returned to missouri, but before proceeding to a description of his subsequent adventures it is interest- ing to follow the now despondent indian girl, for her life took on many grievous vicissitudes after her parting from her white lover, who was the ideal of noble manhood in her estimation. in the succeeding fall ( ) a fellow named rogers, from st. louis, found mary logan among her people, still on the niobrara, and being captivated by her beau- tiful face and figure proposed marriage, which she ac- cepted, not because his affection was reciprocated, but solely because he promised to take her with him to st. louis where they would make their home. the poor girl had never ceased grieving for wild bill and she be- lieved that, living in missouri, whither she knew he had gone, she would find opportunities to see him often. mary logan therefore sacrificed her maidenhood and went to the states as mrs. rogers. by singular coincidence very soon after reaching st. louis she did meet wild bill in one of the numerous parks of that city, and in the meeting her joy was bound- jess. when he left her again it was with the promise that a correspondence should be maintained between the two. several months elapsed, during which time a weekly exchange of letters passed between mrs. rogers and bill without the husband entertaining even a suspicion of life of wild bill. such a fact. much cvil, however, was destined to flow from this pleasant correspondence. bill's letters were so precious in her sight that, instead of prudently destroy- ing them, she kept each one as though it were a priceless treasure. one of these communications at length fell into the hands of the husband, and as the language was of a decidedly affectionate character, the justly jealous husband at once accused his indian wife of infidelity, treachery, duplicity and outrageous conduct; all this she bore with perfect resignation, but when he began the wild bill and mrs. rogers in the park. same kind of abuse against wild bill she flew at him with all the inflamed indignation of her nature and a do- mestic scene ensued. still they lived together, but shortly afterward removed to kansas city, where a second letter of bill's being discovered, the same scene was re-enacted as that which had transpired over the first discovery at st. louis. rogers having severely chastised his wife and threatened wild bill with death, mary re- solved to kill her husband. to accomplish this she had heroes of the plains. recourse to poison, mixing it with his coffee, and soon after rogers had drank the fatal potion he was a corpse. all these facts she wrote to bill and then disappeared, going back to her former indian life, it is supposed, but so completely did she conceal her identity that bill never again heard of her. it is possible that the sore heart which gave her such great distress-finding that she could never become the wife of the man she loved dear- est of all on earth--finally admonished her to find rest and peace in a suicide's death. upon his return to the states wild bill went directly to springfield, mo., where he soon after engaged in a duel with one of the most desperate men that ever start- ed a graveyard. at this time ( ) springfield was the place of rendezvous for scores of roughs, gamblers and dangerous characters generally. in one respect it was a meeting place for the desperado element created by the the southern half of missouri had been strong- ly inclined toward secession, and the confederate forces had been augmented by many companies recruited below the mason and dixon line, and especially from the dis- trict immediately adjacent to springfield. when the war closed, of course these discharged soldiers returned to their homes with the spirit of southern sympathy still uppermost, while defeat had only served to increase their bitterness toward those whose political sentiments were in sympathy with the north. wild bill, was known (if not personally, at least by reputation) to every man, woman and child in and about springfield, and his enemies—bitter, uncompromising, deadly foes—were numbered by scores ; yet he lingered about the place as though the danger in so doing had become an irresistible allurement. but one of the prin- cipel attractions about springfield, to him, was the unre- civil war. life of wild bill. stricted gambling carried on in nearly every other house on the business streets. the place had literally become a paradise for sporting characters, of which class bill was not only a member in good standing, but occupied a dis- tinguished position. hegambled with all the paturalness that characterizes a duckling when it first strikes water- not so much for profit, perhaps, as for the excitement it afforded. though he was constantly surrounded by numerous enemies who would have given half their future for his life, yet they stood in awe of his cool intrepidity, the precision of his aim, the charmed life which seemed to have preserved him for more gallant acts, and the proud carriage of his person which told so plainly that he knew nothing of fear. any other man than he would have been dragged to the nearest tree and throttled, while a crowd of jeering desperadoes would have either lent a ready hand or stood by and applauded the deed; but the bark of his pistol meant the bite of a bullet, and men rarely become so lost to discretion as to fail in their respect for leaden pellets. some time during the summer, a terror to the neighbor- hood, named dave tutt (formerly a spy in the confeder- ate service), came to springfield—some said for the ex- press purpose of killing bill—and at once threw himself into the gambling element of the place, and per conse- quence, soon met wild bill. the two engaged in a fifty- dollar limit game of poker in the second-story of a build- ing fronting the north side of the public square. bill played in bad luck and lost several hundred dollars, and on the last hand he called when the bet was twenty-five dollars more than he could put up. being unable to dis- charge the debt at that moment, he made a memorandum of the amount and bade tutt good-night. heroes of the plains. after bill had retired to his room he resolved never to play in a game with tutt again, as the suspicion just then dawned upon him that he had been cheated. but he kept his own counsel, and on the following day bor- rowed fifty dollars more of tutt, and with this money he soon afterward raised another handsome stake. three evenings after his first game with the ex-con- federate spy bill was in the same gambling room and there he again met tutt, who proposed another game of poker. to this bill objected, but in such manner as led tutt to believe that he was no match for such a dexterous player. tutt then offered to stake a friend against bill, and this proposition being approved the two began to play. before beginning the game, however, bill drew a large gold watch from his pocket, and laying it on the table before him, said to his partner : “ now i'll play you a twenty-five dollar limit until one of us is broken, or until twelve o'clock; at that time i must quit, and there- fore want this fact understood at the beginning. bill played this time in such excellent luck that tutt's friend required frequent staking, and in a couple of hours' time his winnings were over five hundred dollars. tutt began to show signs of reluctance in putting up any more for his unlucky friend, and in a tone betraying much anger said: “ bill, you are now ahead of this game enough to pay me that fifty dollars i loaned you, and also that forty dollars i won off you tuesday night, and i want the money right now,” at the same time striking the table with his fist. “ all right, dave,” responded bill, “ here is the fifty dollars i borrowed, and now here is the twenty-five dol- lars i owe you on the bet i called tuesday night.” “that won't do, bill,” replied tutt, “you owe me life of wild bill, fifteen dollars.more, and i intend to have it right here, or you won't get this watch again,” taking up wild bill's watch and shoving it into his pocket. bill arose from the table and looking tutt in the eye very coolly remarked: “well, dave, i'll pay you every cent i owe; here is my memorandum book and you saw me enter the amount i overbet at the time; it was twenty-five dollars, not forty.” tutt now began to manifest great rage and called bill several vile names, while all in the room fairly held their breath in anticipation of a nortal combat. but they were disappointed. without betraying the least excite- ment, bill replied to tutt: “i don't want any row in this gentleman's house, but, dave, you had better put that watch back on the table or somebody will get badly hurt. i'll leave this matter to the boys who were present when you won the twenty-five dollars, and if they say it was forty dollars i'll pay you the money, but not other- wise.” tutt only pursed up his lip at bill, and turning about started out of the room, at the same time saying: “i'll just keep this watch all the same, and if you want it bad enough you can meet me in the public square to- morrow morning at nine o'clock, for i intend to carry it across the square at that hour." “ you'll never get across that place with my watch unless dead men can walk," replied bill ; and thus the two parted, tutt taking the gold time-piece with him. this singular dialogue astonished the gamblers present as they were never before. some began to think that bill's courage was chiefly on paper, and that he was really afraid of tutt. but the true reason an encounter was not preciptated in the room at the time was undoubt- edly the fact, which both realized, that even an attempt heroes of the plains. to draw a pistol would have resulted in the certain death of each ; because they were both skilled in the use of weapons and death wound would not have prevented a return shot. on the following morning (saturday, september th) nearly the entire male population of springfield and vicinity, hearing of the threatened duel, assembled about the public square at an early hour. the law-abiding and peace preserving class was too small, or indisposed, to restrain the two men from fighting to the death in the wild bill satisfies the natives. most prominent spot of the town. in fact any attempt at interference would not have been tolerated. the event promised altogether too much amusement for the crowd to endure a postponement. promptly at nine o'clock dave tutt stepped out from the crowd on the west side of the square, and holding up the watch so that every one could see it, made some bravado remarks and started toward the center of the then enclosed place, carrying a large navy pistol in his right hand. bill was equally prompt, and advanced life of wild bill. toward tutt briskly, scarcely showing the ivory-handled pistol which he nearly covered with his hand. when within ten paces of each other tutt was the first to raise his pistol, and instantly there were two reports which rang out in such quick succession as caused many who were unable to secure a good view, to believe, for a moment, that only one shot had been fired. there was no doubt concerning the result, however, for tutt dropped his pis- tol, and clapping both hands over his heart fell forward without uttering a word. the bullet from his pistol whistled harmlessly by bill's head and buried itself in an opposite building, where the mark may still be seen. the instant his pistol was discharged, and without noting the result, bill wheeled in his tracks and, pointing his pistol at tutt's friends, coolly asked, “ are you satis- fied ?" he expected a general attack from his old enemies, and was therefore fully prepared to face any consequences, but while they showed their weapons there were none in the crowd bold enough to appeal the result before them. bill was arrested directly after the shooting, but even in a place where he had few friends and many enemies, the respect for his daring nature was such that at a pre- liminary examination he was discharged upon the ground of self-defense, and the grand-jury never took cognizance of the tragedy which was played so true to nature before a town for an audience. heroes of the plains. chapter vii. leaving springfield, soon after the killing of tutt, bill went to nebraska, where he again engaged in trap- ping, but only for a brief period, owing to an incident which made it judicious for him to leave that country, and which may be described as follows: having tried for beaver on several of the creeks of nebraska without meeting favorable results, he changed his quarters with the intention of testing some of the branches in the southeastern part of the then territory. reaching jef- ferson county bill chanced upon a country saloon which derived a patronage from wayfarers and cow-boys. hitching his horse he went into the saloon and called for a drink. · in the place at the time were half a dozen herders, all in a partial state of intoxication that con- dition which invites either. a fight or a treat with the same desire. in response to bill's order the bar-keeper set out a glass and the usual black bottle, at the same time giving such a look as indicated the inquiry, “see here, stranger, what are you a doin' in these here diggins?” four of the cow-boys, seeing bill in the act of taking a treat all to himself, got up from the boxes on which they had been sitting and began to interview the new-comer. no heed to their insults, but just as he was in the act of raising the glass to his lips one of the herders, anxious to test the stranger's pluck, gave bill such a sudden push in the back that the liquid was dashed all over his face, his hat fell off, and in the momentum he struck the counter so hard that it was nearly turned over. without uttering a word bill wheeled about and struck the curiously inclined fellow a blow that sent him on the bill gave life of wild bill. fly over three or four boxes, and into the corner, where he lay limp and bleeding like a stricken ox. the other herders were now in for a fight and were bound to have it ; bill tried to pacify them and show the justification of his act, but his mild language only excited them the more. seeing that some shooting had to be done, bill proposed to fight any four of the men with pistols at a distance of five or fifteen paces, just as they might choose. this proposition was readily accepted, with the provi- sion that the bar-keeper should act as umpire, giving the saloon a duel with four men. word when to fire. a distance of fifteen paces was duly marked off and the four men took positions five feet apart, each party being allowed to shoot when the word · fire" should be given, and then to advance and fire at will. the bar-keeper, who was a bald-headed, cross-eyed specimen of uncivilized villainy, pronounced the affair a delightful little sporting event, and with a doubtful smile on his ugly face stood in the doorway of his saloon and shouted: “are you all ready? one, two, three-fire !” heroes of the plains. before the last word had died from his lips bill had killed the man on the left, but at the same time he re- ceived a wound in the right shoulder which caused his arm to fall uselessly by his side. it required but an instant, however, to snatch the pistol in his left hand, and being ambidextrous his fatal precision dropped the other three men with as many shots. examination disclosed the fact that three of the men were shot in the brain and must have died instantly; the other was struck in the right cheek and a large portion of his jaw was carried away, but he survived, and was living three years ago ( ) in kansas city. the names of the four men were seth beeber, jim slater, frank dowder, and jack harkness, the latter being the survivor of that terrible fight. bill's wound gave him much pain, but notwithstanding this and the apparent kindness of the bar-keeper and others in the saloon,' who carefully bandaged the in- jured limb, bill very wisely concluded that the locality was now decidedly too insalubrious for him to remain thereabouts. on the same day he set out on his favorite black “ nell” for kansas city, where he arrived on the th of december, seven days after the fight occurred. his wound had become very much worse owing to neg- lect, and for two months he was confined to his room, suffering great pain in the meantime, but before spring his recovery was so far accomplished that he was able to join the expedition against black kettle. this expedition was organized to punish the chey- ennes who had left their reservation and started upon a career of brutal atrocities. they had murdered many settlers in western kansas, participating with their northern brothers in the dreadful massacre on the re- publican river, and then separating continued their dep- redations along the wachita and canadian rivers. life of wild bill. two commands, one under gen. primrose and the other under gen. carr, were sent out after the perpetra- tors of these malignant, inhuman crimes. wild bill was made chief of scouts under the former, and buffalo bill filled the same responsible position under gen. carr; subseyuently, however, the two commands were consoli- dated, and wild bill was made first assistant chief of scouts under buffalo bill. the indians were hotly pur- sued for more than one month before a decisive engage- ment could be precipitated. early in march, ' , the cheyennes were brought to bay on the north side of the wachita river, near the antelople hills in indian terri- tory, and a memorable battle was the result. the in- dians were found encamped in a thick woods, and so strong was their position that the most desperate fighting was required to dislodge them. black kettle, one of the ablest chiefs that ever led a body of rapacious cheyennes, was in command of the indians, and so powerful was his very name that many renegades from the arraphoes and kiowas, under little raven and satanta, had joined their fortunes with him. the fight was begun by a charge from the front under primrose, while carr executed a simultaneous flank movement and attacked the indians in the rear with such force that they were driven from their first position. this advantage the troops followed up speedily, and though the loss had been very severe, every man in the command felt the importance of now doing his full duty, however great the sacrifice. the woods resounded with the yells of charging squadrons, and soon squads of indians were flying from covert to covert like frightened animals in a corral of hunters. wild bill and buffalo bill were the heroes of that day, and their deadly rifles did the execution of an entire com- pany ; without regard for the danger they incurred, each heroes of the plains. rode into the very midst of the indians, and with such destructive effect that they are credited with having killed no less than fifty of the red-skins. but it was reserved for wild bill to win the greater honor. black kettle, realizing how disastrous had become the battle, sought safety in precipitate flight; but he was espied by wild bill, who ran a gauntlet of spears, tomahawks and rifles, and, catching the famous chief, plunged a bowie-knife through his back and heart. but in performing this desperate feat, bill was struck through the left hip with a spear and nearly unhorsed. so pressed was he by more than a hundred indians, that the trophy of a chief's scalp could not be secured ; and but for the plucky aid of buf- falo bill, who plunged in among the indians and dealt death with a lavish hand, wild bill would certainly have been killed. his wound soon became so painful from the effects of the poison with which the spear was dipped, that after the battle was concluded it became necessary to convey him back to ft. hays in an ambulance. the in- dians were so badly beaten that very few escaped, and those few soon afterward came in and surrendered. all the squaws and children of the tribe were taken, among the number being a sister of black kettle, who was after- ward killed at hays under peculiarly lamentable circum- stances, as will be found described in the life of capt. payne. wild bill's condition did not improve, and being in great need of complete rest for some time in order to insure recovery, he resolved to visit his old home in illinois. the wound received in his nebraska duel had not yet entirely healed, and the fistula formed from the cut received in his fight with conquering bear was still sup- purating and painful. on the d of april wild bill returned to the van wild bill killing black kettle. d de life of wild bill. home he had left in his approaching manhood, more than thirteen years before. his aged mother was in the doorway to welcome him, but there were so many changes in the appearance of mother and son that only the same hearts remained to give recognition. from the boy whose prowess and adventure had never extended beyond the occupation of wolf-scalping before his departure, james hickok had been transformed into “wild bill,” whose wonderful deeds were on the lips of every american and had interested every reader of border history. the proph- esy he made when first reading the life of kit carson had been fulfilled and a world had recognized his intrepid daring, his unexampled strategy and his peerless charac- ter in the civilizing process through which the great west was passing. he had returned, laden with his honors, to rest a while under the roof which had sheltered his in- fancy, and to stray along the vermillion's banks, wooing remembrance of his youthful days and looking backward over the path which ambition had made him travel. un- der the loving care of his mother and affectionate kin- dred, wild bill soon felt returning strength and conva- lescence. chapter viii. two months passed pleasantly away with bill, for from the hard service he had so long endured, the delicate attention he now received was like soothing balm to his wounds, and there was a rapid recovery. but the rest- less spirit soon became conscious of its restrictions in the old home of his nativity, and with recovery came the heroes of the plains. desire for new adventures on the wild wilderness of the western prairies. before returning west, he concluded to visit one of his boyhood friends named heman bald- win, who was a resident of chicago. upon reaching that city baldwin, having been apprised of his intended visit, met bill at the depot and gave him a warm reception, after which the two drove around to the principal places of interest, and bill was introduced to several of the most prominent gentlemen in the city. on the evening of the second day after bill's arrival in chicago, in the company of his friend baldwin, he went into the billiard hall that was attached to the st. james hotel. being dressed in the genuine garb of a frontiers- man, buckskin clothes trimmed with leather fringe, he naturally attracted much attention everywhere on the streets, but at no place did the curiosity of chicagoans display itself so much as in the billiard hall; men actu- ally left off in the midst of their games to gaze enquir- ingly at the singular stranger, and bill soon found him- self the cynosure of all eyes. among those who made up the crowd in the saloon were seven compatriots of hoodlumism, fellows whose airy tongues, swaggering style, and noses bedizened with the torch-light of whisky's ensign, indicated plainly their belligerent and crime loving proclivities. they fixed their gaze on bill with curious interest until the seven concluded it would afford them much satisfaction and re- dound no little to their reputation to give the stranger a severe threshing—just by way of illustrating how tame chicago boys could handle the wild plainsman. in order to introduce the social affray one of the party accosted bill in the following manner: say, you, leather breeches, where did you come from?" life of wild bill. >> “i came from a section of country where everybody minds his own business, a place you never saw," re- sponded bill. why, the indian scalper is a little sharp; but there are some feathers in his wings that ought to be cut,” another of the roughs suggested. to this second insult bill paid no attention because he anticipated the object of the crowd and was anxious to avoid trouble. a third one, however, considering his turn had come to say something witty, addressed bill: i suppose that everybody in your country dresses in raw-hide and washes every morning in a pot of fresh blood ; ain't that so, wild-bull-of-the-woods?” “well, a country of that kind is better than the one you came from, where there isn't a fellow who knows his own father,” replied bill. this cutting rebuke created a perfect tempest among the irascible hoodlums. another quickly walked to- ward bill and fairly spit out between his teeth the in- quiry : “do you mean to say that our mothers are not honest women ?' “i mean," answered bill, “ if they are it was d-d bad business they got into when you were begotten.” the words were scarcely out of his mouth before the bullies gathered billiard cues and assailed bill with an ex- pressed determination to take his scalp in a manner pe- culiar to the lake-side city. although still lame and sore from the wounds in his hip and arm, bill forgot these in the fight which ensued. in a second he had grabbed a cue, which was as quickly broken convenient to his hand, and then the trouble be- came at once very serious. the fight, in fact, was a counterpart of gilhooley's affair - at tim finnigan's heroes of the plains. wake, when a shillalah was worth a crown a second. baldwin, bill's friend, was, of course, engaged and did splendid service as a reserve, wielding a cue with much dexterity. bill was struck several times on the head and arms, one of the strokes cutting a long, deep gash in his forehead, but he fought with the same cool desperation which had brought him so much glory and a decisive victory at rock creek. at the end of ten minutes the seven chicago braggarts were extended on the floor, each nursing bruises and cuts the evidence of which will abide with them through life. they had thoroughly interviewed “ leather breeches" and definitely determined the product of that queer coun- try from whence the stranger had come. they each felt like the little barefooted boy who delivered a vicious kick at an old plug hat only to find that under it were purposely concealed three big bricks. bill returned to troy grove on the following morning with his head well bandaged, wearing painful mementoes of his chicago visit. while recuperating before starting for the west again, he received a letter from vice-presi- dent henry wilson, as follows: washington, d. c., may th, . james b. hickok, esq. : dear sir: a party consisting of several gentlemen, ladies and myself, desire to spend a few weeks in the far west during the warm season, and i hope it will be our fortune to secure your excellent services as our guide. i have heard much concerning your wonderful exploits in the west, and of such a character, too, as commend you highly for efficiency in the scouting service of the govern- ment. if it be possible for you to accompany our party as guide some time during the following month, please write me at once at willard's hotel, washington, indi- cating what compensation you will expect, and also from what point in kansas we had best start on the tour, i life of wild bill. shall leave to you the selection of a pleasant route, as your general acquaintance with the places of interest be- tween the missouri river and rocky mountains better quali- fies you for deciding the trip that promises the most at- tractions. hoping to hear from you at your earliest convenience, i am, yours truly, henry wilson. on receipt of this letter wild bill replied at some length, giving mr. wilson a brief description of many in- teresting places, a visit to which it would be profitable for the party to make. he fixed his compensation at five hundred dollars for the trip indicated in his descriptions, and feeling sure of an acceptance of the proposition, he made provision for returning west. in this connection it is but proper that reference should be made to another trip bill had made as guide to a party of officials, during which, however, no incidents of special interest occurred: În the spring of a party of government officials, appointed in compliance with a special act of congress. for the purpose, made a visit to all the indian tribes then on government reservations. wild bill was chosen to guide this party, and acquitted himself so well that each member of the commission paid him the highest compli- ments. henry m. stanley, who has since distinguished himself by his african explorations, accompanied the commission as a special correspondent of the new york herald, and in that capacity he epitomized the life of wild bill and sent many columns of matter to his paper descriptive of the great scout's valor, quiet humor, wonderful acumen as a guide and indian trailer, and above all his marvellous accuracy of aim. these stories possessed much interest for readers of the herald, and in fact for readers generally, as they were all copied by many other papers, and served to make the name of heroes of the plains. wild bill as familiar as that of daniel boone and davy crockett. harper's magazine devoted several pages to a description of his adventures, a number of which were appropriately illustrated. but it is only necessary to pay a passing allusion to these facts, as the important inci- dents are already given more fully in the preceding pages. on the twentieth of june the wilson party, with bill as guide, left hays city, well provided with teams, spring vehicles, and a well stocked commissary. the gentlemen in the party, with the exception of the vice president, were dressed, singularly enough, in a style of garments peculiar to the washington modes; that is, tight-fitting pants, cut-away coats and stiff hats. bill could not help making some remarks about this, to him, odd manner of dress, especially as he saw how inconvenient, if not un- comfortable, it must prove upon a journey of the char- acter they were about to make. mrs. wilson and the ladies had more wisely prepared themselves with easy, unconventional dresses, at once evidencing the fact that they appreciated the admiration of their escorts less than the comforts they desired while traveling on the plains. mrs. wilson being a woman of superior wit, and jolly under almost any circumstances; in fact the evanescent life of a party, on the day of their departure engaged bill in an agreable conversation, and the two speedily became well acquainted. “now," said she to bill, “you are with an unsophisticated crowd of yankees who know just as much about life on the plains as they do about the person who first discovered there was a man in the moon; there is no doubt, too, but that some of these younger ones are badly in love, and this only serves to make their simplicity more apparent. i want you, mr. hickok, to keep a protecting eye on the party, life of wild bill. scenery on the route traveled by the wilson party. heroes of the plains. discover their good and indifferent points if you can, determine which are most courageous, etc., and see that none of them get into trouble.” of course wild bill readily assented to this request from so amiable and elegant a lady; and the party set out with bright prospects under his watchful guar- dianship, traveled over a large extent of territory, camp- ing at night beside cool streams, roamed through the cañons of the arkansas, and visited the spot on repub- lican river where the cheyennes had perpetrated one of the most terrible massacres that is recorded in indian warfare. bill interested the party in many ways, giving them examples of his skillful marksmanship with pistol and rifle, pointing out places memorable for some excit- ing incident, and at night regaling them with stories of his life. the weather was delightful during the entire trip, game abundant and nothing occurred to mar the perfect pleasure of anyone in the social expedition. nearly five weeks had slipped by before the party re- turned to hays city, but the time had been so pleas- antly employed that there was a general regret expressed for the termination of the tour. on the day the tourists were to leave for the east the vice-president had a dinner prepared at the hotel, to which bill was invited, and at the conclusion of the feast the distinguished head of the party addressed bill in the most complimentary language, referring to his reputation and pronouncing him one of the characters most essential in the settlement of the great west, where brave men were needed to curb the ferocious elements met with in all new countries; then opening a beautiful case contain- ing two elegant ivory-handled pistols, he presented it to bill as a souvenir of “the most pleasant trip he (the vice- president) had ever made." life of wild bill. hays city was, at this time, one of the liveliest towns on the frontier. it contained a population of nearly two thousand souls, and nearly every “soul” in it was a lively character. the people were essentially a sporting n° markers „put up. weloome all money f checks siksey the principal amusement at hays city. class, with a gambling den for every dozen of the males, and a saloon-well, the whole town was practically a drinking shop. fights, murders and drunks were the incidents which enlivened the otherwise stupid place heroes of the plains. >> not much stupidity about such a place, the reader will at once decide. but in fact, outside of the demoralizing deviltry of the citizens, hays city was only a little spot sitting uneasily in the centre of a quiet prairie. on sun- day, as well as on every other day, the voice of the keno caller could be heard in its monotonous cadence, as well also as the exclamation “ shucks," from those whose numbers were all crossed—but one. faro had its vo- taries even more numerous than keno, and the street walker could any time hear the euphonious refrain, “ i'll copper on the tray,” or, “ busted ag'in, gimme a drink.” it was a singular civilization, that of hays city in the fall of , and as every one enjoyed the sensation of hourly expecting a call from an enemy bent on fight, the population consented to have a marshal, whose services they expected would be that of a mutual protector, guard- ing one enemy from the surprises of another. wild bill being universally regarded as the very per- sonification of reckless courage, and therefore being ac- cordingly popular, was elected city marshal of hays city on the th of september, . he went into of- fice at once, and while every disorderly character consid- ered himself exempt from interference, he nevertheless expected the marshal to interfere with every other per- son, so that there was great satisfaction felt, and really salutary influences were looked forward to, in the newly created office. life of wild bill. chapter ix. ! directly after assuming his official duties bill was called to perform an act which involved the destruction of one of the most noted desperadoes on the border,– jack strawhan,—who had started a half-dozen fresh graveyards in as many different places, and boasted of his ability to clean out hays city and its new marshal. some years before the occurrence about to be related took place, capt. kingsbury, at that time sheriff of ells- worth county, had occasion to arrest strawhan for violent conduct and outrages committed in the town of ells worth. but the desperado was too powerful for one man to handle ; besides his herculean strength he was well armed and quick to use his weapons. knowing this capt. kingsbury called his deputy, named charles whitney, and also wild bill, who chanced to be in ellsworth at the time, to his assistance. the three approached strawhan in such a manner that he saw resistance would result in his certain death, and therefore quietly sub- mitted to arrest. but as there was no jail in ellsworth he was tied securely for a short while until manacles could be provided. during the time of arrest strawhan made oath by declaration that he would kill wild bill, whitney and kingsbury when the first opportunity offered, and the character of the man justified belief that his public threat' would be carried into execution. learning that bill was discharging the duties of city marshal at hays city, strawhan paid a special visit to that place with the avowed purpose of getting even with him, a warning which soon reached the ears of his in- tended victim. heroes of the plains. on the nineteenth of october, , while bill was in tommy drum's saloon with a party of friends, his alert eye caught 'the form of strawhan entering the room by a side door. as his acquaintance with the desperado had never extended beyond the circumstantial meeting in ellsworth, bill appeared to take no notice of him, though in fact the quick glances of his watch- ful eyes kept him duly informed of every movement his enemy made. strawhan strolled up toward the bar in an apparently indifferent manner until within ten feet of bill, when, conceiving that his opportunity had arrived, he jerked out a heavy navy pistol, but when in the act of raising it, bill, with lightning-like quickness, drew one of his small derringers, and with the same movement sent a slug squarely into strawhan's left eye and through the brain. the shot was so instantly fatal that the man was stone dead on his feet, falling forward on his face without even a twitch of the muscles. without giving the slight- est heed to his desperate work bill turned to the bar and extended the familiar invitation to all in the house : " come up, boys, let's all take a drink,” and it is only a fitting conclusion to this description of an “official exe- cution” to say, that none in the saloon refused. the body of strawhan was “sat on r. sat on” by a “ crown- er's jury,” the verdict of which was, “served him right, and so we declare." at night some of the boys got up an improvised string band and gave bill a serenade in true western style, which ended, as did everything else in hays city at that time, in a general free-for-all drunk, with a few bad fights by way of spice for the occasion. whitney did not dia by the hands of strawhan, but in he became engaged in a brawl with a texas despe- rado named ben thompson, in which he was shot to life of wild bill. . death. capt. kingsbury is still living in kansas city, respected by all who know him. in december following the event just narrated, hays city became the objective point of bill mulvey, a no- torious thug, prize fighter, cut-throat and demoralized character generally, whose home was in st. joseph, mo. mulvey was a “terror” in his own neighborhood and had fallen into the pernicious custom of running st. joe whenever his skin became thoroughly impregnated with whisky, which was, generally, on an average of seven times a week. when mulvey reached hays city he wanted only a few drinks of that tantalizing, heroizing, belligerent liquid peculiar to the far west, to put him in proper condition for carrying out his old custom in the new town, and he was not long in supplying the want. it may be proper to explain here that, while every per- son in hays was a “bad crowd” on general principles, yet there was no single individual in the place who had ever assumed the responsibility of running the town, or believed he was equal to such an undertaking. but bill mulvey was an importation, and therefore excusable for arrogating to himself a capacity which no man indig- enous to the place thought of claiming. when mulvey got up a pressure of about three hun- dred pounds to the square inch he moved in his old style, and began howling like a dervish, swearing like a recent senator from missouri, and making the town shake with resolutions to clean out every " son of a whale” who showed himself on the streets. not satisfied with threat- ening, he secured a club and began a promiscuous on- slaught on windows, boxes, doors and everything he could find that was breakable. at length a constable and jus- tice of the peace trained their official batteries on him and tried to place him under arrest, but with such poor heroes Út the plains. success that their prisoner brought up his reserve and with raised club ran the two dignitaries nearly a mile out of town. things were now getting altogether too interesting for comfort, for mulvey, emboldened by his successful raid on the two officers, took possession of the town so completely that wherever he went there seemed to be, judging from the ready obedience everyone yielded him, a perfect resignation to his authority. at the time these depre- dations were being committed wild bill was in another part of the town and did not learn of mulvey’s dis- turbances until the west end was given over to his pleasure. word was brought to bill, by a little boy, concerning the troubles of citizens dealing with the des- perado, and going at once to the place of difficulty he soon found mulvey, who had a pistol in each hand and was still yelling like a tribe of victorious comanches. approaching him in a quiet manner wild bill said: “stranger, i shall have to arrest you for disorderly conduct; come with me." raising his two pistols in bill's face mulvey replied : “well, now stranger, suppose you come with me, i hold the winning hand.” “ that's so,” responded bill, “i can't beat that pair.” “ no, i guess you can't, and since you are so fresh it will be a good thing for me to hang you up till you dry. march !" was the command given by mulvey. before bill turned he backed off two or three steps and raising his hand as if to warn mulvey against an at- tack about to be made on him from the rear, said : “ don't hit him boys, he's only in fun.” the strategy was perfectly successful, for mulvey im- mediately turned about expecting to confront a new ad- > life of wild bill. versary, but this act was the last in his career, for wild bill secured the drop in an instant and shot mulvey in the head, killing him with that rare skill for which he was remarkable. everyone in hays rejoiced at the result of bill mul- vey’s “ big tear,” and instead of holding an inquest over the dead body it was at once carted out to the nearest burying spot and slung into a hole. wild bill was cón- gratulated with words full of unctious flattery and the citizens directly wanted to see him elevated to the highest pinnacle of fame, for they observed that he was civilizing and protecting the neighborhood. the duties of marshal were easy enough for several months after the killing of strawhan and mulvey. bill was regarded with great popularity as a conservator of the peace, without specially interfering with the morale of the town; his acts met with great favor because they were recognized as the execution of a stern but whole- some justice. during the campaigns of - gen. phil. sheridan had his headquarters at ft. hays, a station one mile west of hays city. after the success of the indian expeditions along the wachita, arickaree fork and canadian rivers, the troops returned to ft. hays, making a garrison for the time being of about two thousand soldiers. these enlisted men paid frequent visits to the town, and soon became the source of no small annoyance, as they were in the habit of filling up on pioneer whisky and then turn- ing things literally inside out. wild bill had arrested several of the more turbulent soldiers from time to time, which developed a bitter hatred on the part of the men against him. he anticipated trouble from these unreason- able, reckless volunteers, and was constantly prepared for emergencies. heroes of the plains. on the th of february, , a body of soldiers visited hays and began their usual orgies, which, of course, called for wild bill's interference. among the disturbers of the peace was a large, double-jointed ser- geant from the seventh u.s. cavalry, who had a goodly reputation as a boss shoulder-striker, and his ability to curry” the best man in the regiment was generally conceded. this fellow (whose name is not given in bill's diary for the reason, perhaps, that he never learned it), on the day named, was in paddy welch's saloon smashing up things with an abandon which did him infinite credit as a desperate character. wild bill learned of the disturb- ance and was soon at his post of duty. soldiers were standing around watching the hilarious occupation of their sergeant and evidently enjoying the privilege of practicing any deviltry their fancy dictated. bill walked into the saloon and laid his hand on the sergeant, at the same time repeating his invariable command: - stran- ger, i shall have to arrest you for disorderly conduct; come with me.” the sergeant, taken by surprise at what he conceived to be a piece of remarkable cheek and impudence, re- sponded : “ how much do you weigh, mr. long hair?” “i weigh only one hundred and sixty-five pounds," replied bill, “when i'm in a good humor, but my fight- ing size is a fraction more than a ton; you come along with me." “hold on !” said the sergeant, “ i'm not going with you just now; but i'll tell you what i will do: i'll fight you a fair fight right here in front of this saloon, and if you lick me then i'm your meat, but if i lick you then you're my meat; how do you like the proposition, eh?” before bill could reply more than a dozen soldiers sur- paddy welch's saloon. wines liquors cigars wild bill's fight with fifteen soldiers. f life of wild bill. rounded the two men and began shouting : “ fight, fight, let 'em fight,” etc., so that but one of two alter- natives was left, either get out of the crowd like a coward, or fight like the brave man he was. it was therefore agreed that bill and the sergeant should leave their weapons with paddy welch and engage in a fair battle to determine squarely their respective claims to the other's "meat." although the sergeant was much larger, he was by no means a match for bill. when the two men faced each other, stripped of their coats, they showed abundant mettle and lost no time in getting to work. the ser- geant led off, but made such a bad miscue that his right eye lit heavily against bill's fist and his pose followed suit countering against the kick of the marshal's second blow. bill fought all round him, and in less than half a minute had the big sergeant down in a dreadfully de- moralized condition. fourteen of the soldiers seeing their officer in the grip of a threshing machine with small chance of getting out without much assistance, ran in and began to club and stone bill. paddy welch, realiz- ing the great danger of his friend, at the imminent risk of his own life gathered up bill's pistols and, pushing through the crowd, succeeded in placing them in their owner's hands. now the fun did begin with renewed in- terest. bang! and with the discharge down went one of the boldest soldiers. then the crowd shouted, “ look out ! he's got a pistol-!” but before they got away, two more of their number were shot dead the remaining soldiers then drew their pistols and began firing with such accuracy that bill was struck no less than seven times. he retreated firing, wounding three more of his antagonists, which permitted him to escape by swimming smoky river. when he reached the other side, how, heroes of the plains. ever, his wounds gave him so much pain that, fairly drag- ging his injured body to a buffalo wallow, he secreted him- self therein and tore up his clothes to bandage his hurts. three balls had passed through his arms, three more en- tered the fleshy parts of his legs, and one had penetrated the flesh of his left side. none of these wounds were serious provided they could have received proper atten- tion, but he was now compelled to undergo an exposure which not one man in a thousand, perhaps, could survive. while on his feet the blood had run down into his boots until they were nearly full; he was, therefore, compelled to cut them off, especially as one of the wounds was in the calf of his leg which the boot top rubbed, producing the most violent pain. bill lay in the wallow for two days, so stiffened and in such agony from his injuries that he could not summon up courage to attempt a change. the weather was very cold in the meantime, and from this he suffered as much as from the wounds; his clothes-the few that remained on him—were frozen to the ground, and the bandages, now stiff from frozen blood, seemed to gnaw at his injuries like ingenious in- struments of torture. on the third day, half-frozen, weak from loss of blood and fasting, sore in every muscle, and suffering from the most poignant anguish, wild bill arose, with the crotcheting motion of rip van winkle from twenty years of sleeping, and by dint of incomparable resolution gained his feet. but being unable to put on his boots he wrapped his undershirt about his feet and struggled away from that bed of terrible suffering. moving at a painfully slow pace he nevertheless managed to reach ben williams' ranche, five miles from hays, and there he remained under the care of a kind friend for several days. life of wild bill. knocking at the cabin door where williams lived, his friend answered the summons, but, with a startled look, said: why, my god ! bill, what is the matter? come in and tell me what i can do for you.” well, ben,” slowly responded bill, “ i am in a bad fix; shot all to pieces and suffering worse than i did with them hurts i got up at rock creek. didn't you hear of the fight up at hays, three days ago ?” “yes," replied williams, “i heard about the fight, but i never knew you got shot; i am afraid, bill, they will catch you here, for they are scouring the country for you.” why, who is after me now?” eagerly enquired bill. “good gracious ! old pard,” replied williams, “ don't you know that gen. sheridan has ordered out a whole company with instructions to bring you in dead or alive?” “ no," answered bill, “is that so? well, they can take me here, then, for i can't go any further; i'm almost dead from pain and hunger." they'll not take you if i can prevent it; i've got an old pallet up in the loft of this cabin, and' i guess they'll hardly find you up there,” were the assuring words of williams. bill was at once assisted up a ladder that stood in corner of the cabin, and he there lay secreted and was properly cared for by his friend for more than three . weeks. it transpired that bill had effected his escape from the soldiers without any of them supposing he was wounded, and after gen. sheridan had issued his stern order to capture and bring in the daring marshal “ dead or alive,” it was reasonably supposed that only a long chase would accomplish that result; consequently the soldiers who were sent after bill did not look for him in the immedi- а heroes of the plains. ate vicinity, and were therefore unable to execute the order. after nearly a month of hiding, under the care of wil- liams, bill had so far recovered that he left the ranche in the company of his friend whitney and went to ells- worth. but through fear of detection at this point, he left there in a box car on the kansas pacific road and went to junction city, where he remained until his wounds had entirely healed. chapter x. the vicinity of hays city being decidedly insalubri- ous, wild bill, after casting about some time for a con- genial and remunerative occupation, at length decided upon a novel speculation, in the firm belief that he saw a fortune awaiting him in such an engagement. he rightly divined that niagara falls was a place of popular resort for fashionable people and that these visitors, having plenty of money, were willing to pay liberally for their amusement. now, thought he, what could afford so much interest as a buffalo chase—real, shaggy, untamed buffaloes, with comanche indians to lead the sport? the idea did appear pregnant with large profit, and but for some mismanagement would, no doubt, have paid very handsomely. having made up his mind, bill at once determined to secure six fine buffalos and four comanche indians, and with this outfit he proposed to visit niagara during the summer. accordingly, in may, he set out for the buf- falo feeding grounds on the republican river, intent upon the capture of animals for the forthcoming exhibition. life of wild bill. reaching culbertson, a small village in nebraska, now the county seat of hitchcock county, bill employed three assistants and with them went southwest one hundred miles. here he found a large herd of buffaloes grazing on the prairie a few miles north of beaver creek and made ready for the capture. a very laughable circumstance was connected with the exploit about to be related. bill had killed scores of buffaloes, understood their habits and was an expert hunter, but he had never undertaken to capture one of these huge, unwieldy animals alive. after duly consid- ering the matter, he adopted the most ludicrous scheme that ever entered a man's mind. he knew that a drove of horses could be easily managed by tying their heads together, and this knowledge prompted him to use the same means for controlling the desired number of buf- falos. in pursuance of his resolution, he prepared a number of lassoes and, having everything ready, started on a fleet horse for the drove. by riding and driving judi- ciously, he soon got into the center of the herd, which numbered about five hundred, but with all his persever- anco he could not satisfactorily adjust his lassoes, on account of the low position in which a running buffalo carries his head. seeing that little could be accomplished while on horseback, he decided to abandon his horse and ride the buffaloes, which were pressed so closely together that he could easily slide from one to the other. acting upon this determination, he removed the bridle from his horse, so that the reins might not fall and become entan- gled in the feet of the horse or the buffaloes, and with his gun in one hand and lassos in the other, he jumped upon the nearest buffalo. but now finding his gun an encum- brance, he rode the buffalo while tying the gun on his heroes of the plains. back, and then began the adjustment of his lassoes. bill presented a most comical appearance astride of a lumbering bull, which plunged and snorted with fright as though satan himself were breaking him in. but the work of maintaining a proper position, while managing his gun and lassoes, was a truly perplexing and difficult task to bill, which only one accomplished in expert horse- manship could possibly perform. the assistants kept pace behind, laughing at the rare sport now developing, and feeling pretty certain that the fun must continue for some time, as bill had worked into the herd until they could see no means for escape out of the rushing ava- lanche, unless he could shoot an open furrow through the stampeded buffaloes. but he had only one gun and his pair of pistols, so this idea was impracticable, and with this reflection bill's assistants grew suddenly grave over the possibility of his destruction. they therefore rode around the herd, shouting and shooting, with the hope of sepa- rating them, but bill objected to this; shouting through the dust and roar of the affrighted animals, “keep back ; let 'em run, and i'll lariat the whole drove.' after riding a buffalo thus furiously for several miles, and having become far removed from his horse, that was running with the herd, bill concluded, since it was quite impossible to throw the lasso successfully, that he would place his lariats around the horns of at least six large buffaloes running abreast, and take his chances for getting out from his uncomfortably close position, and securing his prize afterward. it was a comparatively easy matter for him to thus se- cure the required number of animals, though the security extended no further than binding their heads together. but he reasoned rightly that the six thus tied, being unable to freely move their heads, would soon tire and life of wild bill. become separated from the herd, a supposition which was soon verified. then his assistants came up, seeing him ride one of the selected buffaloes, and throwing a long lasso the animals were soon in the grip of their captors. bill's horse was easily recovered, for the moment the herd separated he returned to the horses ridden by bill's assistants it was a long way back to a settlement, however, and a much greater distance to a railroad station. how to drive the buffaloes was then the conundrum. it was finally determined that two men should ride on each side of the herd with lassoes attached so as to pull the buf- faloes in any required direction. but the brutes proved unruly as a contrary pig, and ran from one side to the other, backward and forward, until the horses and men were tired out. to obtain a necessary rest, the buffaloes were tied to a tree and kept there for nearly two hours, until the horses had been fed, watered and well rested. during this breathing spell the idea occurred to one of the assistants that the buffaloes would drive much better if they were hobbled. “well,” said bill, when the sug- gestion was made, “it is singular i hadn't thought of that before; suppose you prepare some hobbles and put them on.” but he was not so much surprised at the suggestion as he sought to make his assistants believe, for it was the hope that some of his men would try the experiment that prompted him to reply in the manner he did. one of the men was a herder and understood hobbling a steer or mule, but it is, nevertheless, certain that he did not know anything about hobbling buffaloes—until after his first experience. having everything prepared he approached one of the animals which, though its head was fast, had the free use of its hind quarters. just as heroes of the plains. the cow-boy was in the act of slipping the noose around the buffalo's fore-leg the brute whirled its quarters and planted its hind foot on the shoulder of the aston- ished hobbler. did you ever see a professional tumbler turn backward handsprings around a circus ring, observ- ing how rapidly he revolved? that cow-bow resembled an expert tumbler for all the world. he just literally got up and spun through the air, as though he had been reeled off a spinning-wheel by a country maid. and when he lit there stood the buffalo about fifteen feet away looking as demure and melancholy as though he had lost his hind leg more than a week before. these men never laughed more heartily nor did one ever feel so grieviously humbled as was that quartette of buffalo catchers. the animals were not hobbled. after two weeks of the most tedious work the six buf. faloes were brought to ogallala, and from thence over the union pacific to omaha, where they were kept until bill could conclude arrangements with the necessary number of comanche indians, of southern indian terri- tory. four excellent specimens of that tribe were secured, one of whom had a cinnamon bear and another a large monkey; as these two animals were deemed curiosities which might be advantageously used in the niagara entertainment, they were also engaged, and the menagerie moved from omaha for niagara falls on the twenty-second of june, after reaching his destination wild bill set about con- cluding arrangements for the entertainment. a large lot of ground was secured on the canadian shore and a suit- able enclosure erected. during the time these prepara- tions were being made the indians exhibited their bear and monkey, deriving considerable profit therefrom. the chase being duly advertised for the th of july, life of wild bill. an immense crowd of people assembled to witness the novel sight. as the enclosure was necessarily very large, bill did not deem it advisable to build a high board fence to obstruct an outside view, thinking that the people who were interested in the exhibition would contribute quite as liberally if he passed his hat around among them. the aboriginal part of the outfit. the buffaloes were brought out in cages and at the appointed time were turned loose, with the indians, who were decked in war paint, leather breeches and eagle feathers, in full pursuit, mounted on ponies. several gentlemen, visitors at the falls, having provided them- heroes of the plains. selves with horses, also entered the chase, and a hundred yelping pet curs and poodles lent their assistance to make the occasion excitingly interesting. the indians, yelling as only comanches can, chased the affrighted buffaloes round and round the enclosure, showing at the same time their superb horsemanship, by executing the most difficult feats, to the great delight of the crowd. during the chase bill moved among the spectators with his big som- brero extended, giving every one a chance to contribute. but after filing and pushing through the assemblage of nearly five thousand people, he emerged with the pro- ceeds of his expensive exhibition, and found that the en- tire contribution amounted to just $ . ; the expenses at the same time were $ , . , leaving a balance sheet : showing a loss of more than $ , . when the indians had returned again with the recap- tured buffaloes, bill was confronted with a bill of expenses-novel but importunate. during the excite- ment the bear had been left muzzled and tied to a stako, and the monkey in his cage. of course these curiosities had their votaries, and some one, in a spirit of mischief, had removed the muzzle and unloosed the bear, hoping to get up a counter attraction in the meantime. the mischievous fellow, whoever he was, did not suffer a disappointment. there was a heavy bearded italian in the crowd selling vienna sausages, and another dressed in sailor's garb stood on a box singing songs, for which he expected a small consideration. when the peddler came up near the bear the smell of fresh sausage was too much for the hungry animal to forego investigating, and being loose, he turned quickly on the italian with the intention of capturing the savory meats. the poor fellow, frightened to the limit of his senses, let go his platter and tried to run, but the bear grabbed him in its large paws and tore life of wild bill. his checked overshirt into shreds, though giving his body only a few scratches. some of the bystanders rushed to the rescue, and one bolder than the rest seized the bear the bear and the sausages. in his arms and held it fast until the sausage man recov- ered the full use of his heels. having been raised from a small cub by its indian owner, the bear developed no heroes of the plains. dangerous qualities and was tied again without difficulty. when bill came in he was told of the side-show which had opened doors during the chasè, and the trembling italian greeted him with a demand for damages. after some parleying bill purchased a new shirt for the irate but still badly scared fellow and then exhausted his de- tective ability in an effort to discover who unloosed the bear—but he failed signally. the pecuniary failure of the buffalo chase now brought with it many troubles for bill. he had not only spent every cent he could raise inaugurating the enterprise, but still owed sundry bills for hotel accommodations, care for his animals and entertainment for the indians. he was hopelessly “ busted,” and just there, as if to add insult to his other mortifications, a dapper englishman, wearing a single eye-glass, sauntered up to him and su- perciliously accosted him with : “see 'ere, my friend, h'are you h’an indian h’or a white man?'' in a perfect frenzy bill struck the impudent foreigner a blow in the glass eye that sent him plowing up the ground ten feet away, following the blow with the re- mark: . that's the kind of a man i am ; do you want to ex- tend the acquaintance any further?” it is only proper to state, in order to satisfy the cu- riosity of the reader, that the englishman manifested no disposition to become better acquainted, as the intimacy had already been disagreeably close. being unable to satisfy any of the demands made against him, bill was left no other recourse than that of transferring the ownership of his buffaloes. the indians were compelled to part company with their bear and monkey. with the balance left them, after paying all life of wild bill. bills, they were enabled to accompany bill back to kan- sas, and return to their reservation. the pleasure of the trip, which had enabled them to see so much of the white man’s civilization, seemed to fully satisfy them for their services, for they made no demand on their employer for compensation. when wild bill reached kansas he found, to his de- light, that gen. sheridan and the seventh u. s. cavalry had left hays city, and he was, therefore, relieved of any apprehensions regarding his personal safety in that section of country. it was his intention, after learning this fact, to resume his duties at hays, provided he could again secure the office of marshal ; but, stopping at abilene a few days to see some friends, he was sur- prised by an offer to make him marshal of that place. as the salary was entirely satisfactory bill concluded to accept the position, especially since adverse circumstances had entirely exhausted his exchequer and immediate oc- cupation was therefore essentially necessary. when bill became the custodian of the peace at hays city he found a town just about as full of iniquity as he thought it possible to discover on the continent; but while hays was only comfortably full of the devil's emis- saries, abilene was running over and bursting out at the side with the very double distilled essence of depravity. the town, with less than one thousand permanent resi- dents, was filled with so much vileness that the very at- mosphere appeared impregnated with the odor of abomi- nation ; murder ran riot, drunkenness was the rule, gam- bling a universal pastimè, fighting a recreation, and the mischief to pay generally the engrossing occupation. there was one chief reason why abilene reveled in greater wickedness than any other kansas town, and her citizens are in a measure excusable because they were heroes or the plains. helpless. the place was one of much importance, owing to the fact that it had become the central shipping point for the cattle raised in texas, new mexico and indian territory. every day great herds of cattle were driven in, and accompanying the herds were scores of reckless cow-boys and owners, who regarded nothing with so much souther tre teplay tree nostmagasin a street in abilene. fukluder vid favor as the meanest brands of fighting whisky. after filling the pens these men invariably traveled to some saloon, on as straight a line as the honey-laden bee, and like a dry fish thrown back into its element, they absorbed vitriol-adulterated liquids until some desperate act was life of wild bill. almost certain to conclude the spree. the large cattle transactions at the pens made money abundant at abilene, and as money is the root of all evil, every one in the place managed to secure a large portion of the root. gambling followed as a consequence, and, preserving the natural sequence, shooting and stabbing became of daily occur- rence. this was the condition of society in abilene when wild bill received his commission and began to carry a club as the insignia of his office. of course there was much in his favor, for, though rhapsodizing sentimental- ists may enquire, “what's in a name?” it was very ap- parent that in the name of wild bill many bullies intui- tively saw a grim harbinger of their fate if their carnival of crime remained unchecked. among the most desperate men on the border, who had killed several men and “stampeded” nearly all the west- ern towns, was a small, black-eyed, professional gambler, named phil cole. he had no regular abiding place, but striking abilene he found that town so well suited to his calling and disposition that, to use a western phrase, “he got his washing done in that hole” for several months. within two days after bill's appointment as marshal, phil cole, in company with another desperado named jack harvey, got on one of his accustomed tears, and regardless of the new officer, he began his usual indis- criminate destruction of property, smashing windows, kicking in doors, insulting women, firing his pistol, and sundry other malicious acts which demanded bill's inter- ference. jack harvey was a companion of cole in all these villainous proceedings and the two were permitted the free exercise of their devilish proclivities until bill, in company with his deputy, jim mcwilliams, put in an heroes of the plains. objection. mcwilliams was well acquainted with cole and knew that some one would get badly hurt unless the gambler could be pacified. approaching him in a friendly spirit he tried to induce cole to give up his pis- tols, but in doing this bill, standing off a few feet, ordered the gambler to surrender. this order only served to precipitate the conflict, for cole immediately ? tilin illis proto.inc-ton. wild bill accidentally kills a friend. fired at bill, but as mcwilliams had hold of his arm the shot proved ineffectual. bill now drew his own pistol and fired at cole, but at the same instant the gambler in wrestling with mcwilliams threw him in front in such manner that the faithful deputy received the bullet in his heart and fell over dead. cole now again raised his pis- tol, but ere he pulled the trigger a shot from bill's heroes of the plains. had several ambitious scholars who made such progress that the professor decided to give an entertaiment in the place and thus demonstrate the results of his instructions. among those in attendance—and the whole population was present—to witness the miniature arenic bouts on the improvised stage was wild bill, drawn thither by a natural curiosity. the novel entertainment proved a grand success; so much in fact that several new scholars were enrolled for the succeeding term. after the exhibition had concluded, the professor took a stroll down town—which means that he paid a visit to the most popular saloon for a night cap” before retiring. in the saloon he found the usual crowd, and of course a conversation was at once started on pugilism and the qualifications of noted western char- acters. wild bill was mentioned as being the handiest man out west, a good shooter, skillful fighter, and brave to rashness. in reply to the panegyrics offered by the crowd on bill, the professor said: “ now, look here, i've heard a great deal about this man wild bill; i would like very much to meet him, and if he's got the pluck to stand before me i'll show you how little he knows about the manly art.” one of the party responded : “if you would like to see him, just look over toward that corner (pointing to bill); that man wearing a sombrero and drinking with buffalo bill is the person you want.” “good enough,” answered the professor, and step- ping to bill he touched our hero on the shoulder and addressed him : “i understand that your name is wild bill, and that you carry around in your clothes the reputation of being the boss fighter in the west." “where did you get your information?” responded bill. life of wild bill. why, all the boys declare you have got away with every one that has tackled you yet. but i want to say that while i am in this country i am boss; that's my business, and i'm ready to demonstrate my claims.” "well,” said bill (drawing two pistols), “ i'll just shoot a hole through each of your ears, so that we'll all know you hereafter; the boss ought to carry his private mark.” “ hold on, hold on," said the professor, “i don't mean that i'm a pistol fighter; i'll grant you the de- served reputation as the best pistol shot on the plains ; but i can prove my claim as the best man on the muscle, and if you doubt my ability drop your pistols and shie your castor." the bantering tone of the professor made bill mad as a wounded catamount, and giving his weapons to buffalo bill he sailed into the pugilist like a red-hot ball from a columbiad. for several minutes the furniture in the room flew about, mixing with legs and arms, while the boys stood around deeply interested in the fight. tim finnegan's wake was like a candy-pulling compared with the music of this memorable battle, for it developed into a veritable cyclone of furious laughter. is it necessary to tell the reader that wild bill was victorious ? of course not, for if he had been as badly whipped as the professor was no mention would have been made of this encounter. the fact is, the professor was so outrageously threshed—like the game cock of many victories, who, after one bad defeat, never plumes his feathers with the oil of courage again—that it spoiled all the reputation on which he had so successfully traveled; the proper thing he realized was to indefinitely postpone the ensuing school session and search for new fields, which, let us hope, he found more fruitful for his purposes. heroes of the plains. chapter xi. there was comparative peace in abilene, after the cole triple tragedy, until the holidays, when another fight occurred in which there were several seriously dam- aged skulls, but no deaths. on the th of december, , a dozen texan cattle men concluded to take the municipality by storm, as it were, and their preparatory arrangements, as a matter of course, consisted of an ample filling up with abilene whisky. . among this num- ber of “ thoroughbreds,” as they styled themselves, was the owner of one of the largest ranches in the lone star state. his name is withheld for obvious reasons, as he is still living, and a publication of the incidents about to be recorded, together with his real name and the impious part he subsequently played, would, certainly, be followed by legal perplexities. these interferences would not be regarded but for the fact that the necessary witnesses would be hard to find if indeed they could be at all. but the facts will not be departed from one jot or tittle, and in order to preserve the identity of this individual, he will be called “ assassin bledsoe." this bloody-minded twelve began their carousals by breaking into a harness shop, brutally beating the pro- prietor and stealing a number of bull-whips. with these they sallied out and attacked everyone they could meet on the street, cutting right and left, administering the severest punishment on several individuals and defying the authority of the entire town. none of them display- ing any weapons, this fact led wild bill to believe that the unruly crowd might be controlled without bloodshed. he therefore called a few citizens to his assistance and undertook the difficult job of arresting the drunken party. life of wild bill. by chance bill first accosted assassin bledsoe in his usual manner, using mild but pointed language. instead of obeying the injunction, “come with me,” bledsoe curled the bull-whip he carried over his head and strik- ing bill on the arm, it cracked with a pistol-like report. the whip-stroke cut almost like a knife, and the pain it produced was just enough to make bill feel like killing some one, especially bledsoe. raising his club he dashed at the texan and delivered a blow that laid open the skin on bledsoe's head for a length of three inches. this precipitated a general fight in which the citizens who were deputized and the texan crowd mixed indiscrimi- nately. clubs and stones were the only weapons used, but in the hands of infuriated men these were very dan- gerous and the result was something terrible enough for the most morbid appetite. blood was streaming from numerous heads, arms were broken, bodies frightfully bruised and demoralization was pictured on every par- ticipant. bill was the central figure in the fight, for be- ing regarded as a kind of standard bearer the texans were anxious to take his colors. but he displayed the cool intrepidity which had made his name so celebrated, and though struck hard with stones, he kept his feet and wielded a club like hercules before the hydra. the deputies being reinforced by a number of other citizens, at length closed the battle with acknowledged victory. the wounded were carried to the nearest houses and nec- essary surgical attention given them. the most serious injury was that received by assassin bledsoe, who was compelled to keep his bed for nearly two weeks, and the greatest care was required to prevent inflammation of the brain, from which he would have certainly died. during this period of dangerous illness, bledsoe de- clared to his attendants, under oath, with uplifted hand in litu on wild bill. divulge a word of the compact about to be made nor of anything connected with the meeting in the barn. the terms of this desperate contract were that, under no cir- cumstances, was his name to be discovered to anyone as the employer of their services for this dark deed ; that the sum of $ should be given to each man to pay ex- penses of the trip to abilene, and that in addition to this money $ , in gold was to be divided equally between them on the day that wild bill's heart should be de- livered to bledsoe, and that the place of meeting for the completion of the contract should be at the old barn. to all these articles of the agreement the eight villains readily assented, and being at once provided with money for the trip, on the second day thereafter they started for abilene. reaching that town, instead of waylaying bill, as bledsoe expected, the impious crowd of hired assassins, never having had so much money at one time before dur- ing their existence, could not resist the temptation of so many saloons, and gave way at once to the cravings of their unnatural appetites; as a consequence they drank until every one became hilariously drunk. while in this condition one of the men disclosed (though in disjointed sentences) the object of their visit to abilene. a friend of bill's hearing the asseverations of the drunken assas- sin plied him with such questions as brought out the en- tire scheme for the murder; and being satisfied that the plan had been truthfully revealed, though by an irre- sponsibly drunken fellow, he lost no time in acquainting bill with the purposes of the eight men. bill received the information with thanks, but exhibited no uneasiness. he instructed his friend to return to the crowd and by some means which would not excite suspi- cion, inform them that he (wild bill) was going down to topeka on the nine o'clock express. this information heroes of the plains. the friend duly imparted to the texans, at the same time dropping several hints that his pistols had become useless and he was going to topeka for the purpose of purchasing a new pair. this little piece of clever strategy worked with such great success that their discomfiture was complete. bill became a passenger on the east bound express train, and chuckled as he saw the hired murderers take the coach next the baggage car. their idea was that bill could be readily influenced to pass from one car to the other upon an invitation to join them in a game of cards, or a pre- tended acquaintance, and while on the platform it was arranged that he should be stabbed and thrown from the car. if this very choice scheme had not miscarried, the band of assassins could have left the train at the first sta- tion and walking back to their victim cut out his heart without there being a witness to their consummate villainy. but the scheme did not work. about an hour after the train left abilene, or shortly after ten o'clock at night, bill concluded that now was the time for him to act, as most of the passengers would be asleep. know- ing about where his would-be murderers sat, bill walked through the car, opened the door and drew his two ivory- handled pistols. reaching the door of the car in which the eight sat, he peeped through a moment to discover their exact positions ; he then threw open the door and walked quickly up the passage way. in another moment the assassins saw him, and as they also saw a large pistol in each hand, their impious hearts fluttered with the fear which immediately possessed them. bill drew his wea- pons so as to cover the band, and then in a voice which indicated his resolution, he said: now, you infernal scoundrels, get out of this car in- stantly or i'll make buzzard food of your carcasses, get life of wild bill. sut, and off this train or i'll kill you as i would a pack of cowardly wolves. if it wasn't for disturbing the pas- sengers i'd kill you in the car, but i'm going to either make you jump off this train or i'll shoot you off. ” while addressing them in this threatening manner, he drove the men before him, and as they believed he would shoot anyhow, the entire eight stampeded in their efforts to get out of the car, and when the platform was reached they leaped off into the cut through which the train was running at a speed of thirty miles an hour. in the fall one of the villains was killed and three others so seriously hurt that they had to be carried off by their comrades. this ended the efforts made by assassin bledsoe to secure wild bill's heart, notwithstanding his desperate oath ; neither did he have the gratification of attending his enemy's funeral ; in fact, after this, he lived for nearly six years in constant dread lest bill should find and kill him. on bill's return from topeka, after this novel adven- ture with eight cowardly villains, he stopped two days at ellsworth for the purpose of visiting a somewhat noted beauty of that place, named emma williams, whose charms had made an impression on the softer portion of bis heart. visiting this gay siren of fatal beauty at the same time was a big bully named bill thompson, and thus the two bills met under circumstances especially favorable for the excitement of a fresh killing. added to this jealous valry, thompson was moved by a spirit of revenge for having suffered arrest at the hands of wild bill nearly a year previously. miss williams, finding two dangerous lovers at her shrine, and both equally importunate for her favors, was compelled to choose between them. fortu- nately for bill, his handsome face and physique secured heroes of the plains. the coveted favor, while the coarse, uncouth, brutal physiognomy of thompson was relegated to the realms of woman's rejection. this decision could but culminate in a tragedy, for, as is usual with men of the base charac- teristics which distinguished thompson, they almost in- variably resort to foul means when fair efforts are un- availing to accomplish their object. at the dinner hour, on the th day of february, , wild bill entered a restaurant in ellsworth and called for an oyster stew; the tables of the restaurant were situated between small partitions, as are still frequently noticed in country ice-cream saloons in the west. he thought- lessly took a seat with his back to the door, a position, it is but proper to say, he never afterward assumed. as the waiter returned, bearing the stew in a bowl on a platter, bill saw him exhibit a sudden fright, and turning quickly in his seat discovered thompson approaching and almost in the very act of firing on him. sliding out of his chair with the celerity of a flash, the movement was executed with such rare fortune that the ball from thompson's pistol struck the dinner plate on the table before bill, shattering it into a hundred pieces. but ere the jealous desperado could fire again bill had jerked a small der- ringer from his breeches pocket and sent a slug squarely into thompson's forehead. his plot to kill bill had only turned upon himself. the waiter's fright at this sudden and tragic meeting of the rivals was so great that soup, bowl and platter fell from his nerveless grasp, rattling in fragments on the floor, adding, by the noise, much to the general confu- sion which ensued. bill coolly resumed his position at the table and ordered the trembling waiter to bring him the stew, giving no heed to the unconscious victim on the floor; but the waiter showed no such indifference, stand- life of wild bill. ing in dumb astonishment and fright until the restaurant filled with the curious of the village. being unable to obtain the desired stew, bill coolly arose, filed through the morbid crowd and hunted up another restaurant, where he feasted according to his pleasure. his arrest followed soon after, but at the preliminary hearing a clear case of “justifiable homicide" was established, so that his detention was not for more than two hours, and at night he returned to abilene. in june, , wild bill was appointed u. s. marshal at hays city, or was rather reappointed, for he first served in that position a short time during ; but as nothing of special importance transpired worthy of record among his spirited adventures during that period, the fact was not mentioned in chronological sequence. two months after entering, for the second time, upon the discharge of his duty circumstances required his going to wichita, kansas, where he expected to arrest an of- fender who, it was reported, was infesting that town. there being no stage nor rail route to wichita, bill was compelled to make the trip on horseback, a style of travel- ing, however, well suited to his disposition and preference. upon arriving at wichita, being wholly unacquaint- ed in the place, he directed his course to a saloon, before the door of which he alighted and tied his horse. enter- ing the saloon, he was somewhat surprised to find it con- tained not a single soul—the proprietor, even, having absented himself from the business for the time being. however, desiring to rest himself and possibly obtain some essential information concerning the offender of whom he was in search, bill sat down and commenced reading a newspaper in order to pass the time until the proprietor should return. while he was thus engaged his attention was attracted by a horseman who was just heroes of the plains. dismounting preparatory to entering the saloon. bill looked up from his paper as the stranger stepped upon the threshold, for he supposed the man to be some ac- quaintance of the neighborhood, and passed the usual salutation: “howd'ye.” “how are you?” returned the stranger ; “is your name wild bill ?” “that is what i'm generally called,” replied bill. “ take that, then," said the stranger, accompanying the words with the instant production of a pistol which he fired so close in bill's face that the skin was scorch- ed. the bullet, by rare good fortune, only struck his scalp, cutting a furrow more than three inches in length and grazing the skull. it was a desperately close call, but another fortunate circumstance was in the fact that bill was so badly stunned by the shot that he fell to the floor as if stricken dead. the stranger, thinking that he had secured his victim beyond a doubt, did not deem it necessary to fire another shot into his body, but feeling concerned for his own safety speedily mounted his horse and rode swiftly away to the south. in a moment after the shot was fired the saloon pro- prietor returned, and seeing bill lying on the floor in a dazed condition, quickly dashed a cup of water in his face; then attempted to examine the wound, which was bleed- ing profusely. but bill soon rallied, and gaining con- sciousness he eagerly inquired for the stranger. finding that his assailant had fled, he refused all offers of surgi- cal attention, and with the blood streaming down his face, saturating his clothes and rendering his appearance gory in the extreme, he gave pursuit, first learning the direction taken by the would-be murderer. being well mounted he gave rapid chase, though his horse was well spent by the trip just made. the stranger, after riding life of wild bill. with much speed for several miles, reined up, thinking pursuit would hardly be given soon by any officer, and least of all by the person who he felt sure was dead. but the pursuer pushed rapidly on, and soon came in sight of his man, who permitted him to approach within a few hundred yards before discovering that it was wild bill leading a chase. notwithstanding his horse was nearly exhausted, he urged him to his best efforts, while the pursuit and flight developed into a furious ride, one for life, the other for vengeance. finding that it was impossible to overtake the stranger, bill had recourse to his weapons, and firing as he rode soon disabled the assassin's horse and directly afterward shot the man through the back, producing a slow and terribly painful death. to make his revenge more complete, bill raised the head of his dying victim and with the long, keen bowie he carried cut from the stranger's scalp a strip of hair and flesh such as he considered would correspond with the portion extirpated from his own. with this ghastly trophy he returned to wichita and there had his own wound properly attended to. subsequently bill learned that his unknown assailant was a cousin of phil cole -- also a noted gambler,—who had made many threats to avenge his kinsman's death, and had sought for opportunities to execute his purpose, only to find at last that in seeking revenge he had become the victim of a more fatal vengeance. as a reminder of this bloody adventure bill carried the piece of scalp cut from his victim's head for many years. his brother, in communicating with the writer, stated that bill kept this ghastly memento in his pocket- book until it became as hard as a piece of dried buffale hide, and it is possible, if not indeed probable, that lie: kept it until death divided his possessions. heroes of the plains. chapter xii. in august following wild bill's return from wichita an incident occurred which resulted, some years after- ward, in his renouncing his previous declarations to re- main a bachelor, and the taking unto himself of a wife. the circumstances which culminated in so great a change were romantically singular and are well worthy of record in these otherwise sanguinary chronicles of stirring ad- ventures. the incident referred to grew out of the exhibition of lake's circus in hays city during august, . it was a rare occasion to see a circus so far west at that time, owing to the sparsely settled condition of middle and western kansas, and when the caravan began to pitch tents preparatory for exhibition not only the citizens of hays betrayed great curiosity, but every one within a radius of more than twenty miles came into town, by a variety of conveyances, to see the show. lake's circus had been a standard entertainment for many years in the east and south, and in addition to the excellent reputation it bore it was well advertised by a novel free exhibition which became the rage even in the east-a grand balloon ascension just before opening the doors. the town council, like everyone else in the neighborhood, though anxious to see the performance, held a meeting on the day preceding the time fixed for exhibition, and decided to charge mrs. lake, the pro- prietor of the circus, a license fee of fifty dollars ; but before the municipal body adjourned wild bill stepped up and asked to be heard a moment. permission having been granted, the town councilmen lit their pipes, passed the bottle, and leaning back in their chairs posed them- life of wild bill. selves while bill expressed himself substantially as fol- lows: “i never made a speech in my life and i don't want to begin now, but i never went back on a woman, and i'm going to give you some plain talk. you fellows live so far outside of civilization that your hearts have dried up like small potatoes left out in the sun, and as you can't read the papers of course you don't know nothing about what's going on east of the coyote's range. “this circus that's advertised to show and furnish a little amusement for us heathens is owned by a woman, one whose pluck catches my sympathy every time. her husband, bill lake, one of the best clowns that ever sung a jolly song, was murdered down in granby, missouri, by a cowardly villain, named jake killian, on the th of august, . the brave little widow, after burying her husband, had to either sell out or go on the road with the circus, and circumstances advised her to carry the show. my opinion is that any woman capable to run a circus is a darned sight bigger curiosity in these parts than the leather heads of this village ever heard of, and when i see so much pluck shown by a little woman i just feel like throwing in and helping her. “now, if you fellows that run this town knowed how to appreciate a good thing for the place, instead of charg- ing mrs. lake a license, you would vote an appropri- ation to pay her for coming out here to show us heathens a first-class circus. if i've got any author- ity in hays, mrs. lake ain't going to pay this town a cent of license for showing, and if any man attempts to stop the show then just put it down that he's got me to fight. that's all i've got to say now, so drive on and we'll see who pays the fiddler.” heroes of the plains. para- when bill concluded his or talk" the council of four decided to reconsider their action and remit the license, though this was, in the eyes of some, an extraordinary opportunity for starting a town treasury. mrs. lake, learning of bill's disinterested kindness, sent for him and expressed many thanks, after which she introduced him to all the members of her troupe, includ- ing her little daughter, emma. after seeing the phernalia of the circus and shaking hands with the per- formers, bill turned again to mrs. lake and said : “well, now, all this is fine enough, but do you know the greatest curiosity about this canvas is yourself; i never saw a woman before that could run anything, except with a broom handle, and to find one managing a big cir- cus like this is a bigger sight than california joe when he was tackled by a panther down in the wachitas. i used to think that women never amounted to much outside of being mothers, and i guess i wouldn't give them that much credit if it hadn't happened that i had a mother myself, and a good one, too. but i've changed my opin- ion now, for if i could hitch up with such a business girl as yourself i'd go in search of the parson to-morrow.” this language, though full of rather profane meta- phors and tempered with phrases little suited for “ lute- like lovers' lips,” nevertheless expressed in homely truths bill's real sentiments, for he fell in love with mrs. lake, not only on first sight, but even before the meeting; he was caught on the hook of her reputation. mrs. lake, though not fully understanding the somewhat incoherent address of her determined suitor, yet saw be- neath his rough exterior a kind and healing sympathy, and a heart ever brave and willing to protect the weak. his face and form, too, were strikingly handsome, while his dress was that of a gentleman. in short, he excited the life of wild bill. affection of her nature, having already won her admira- tion. but they parted without avowals, and nearly three years passed before they met again, when admiration ripened into a warmer feeling, as will be seen in a subse- quent chapter. becoming tired of the life which hays city afforded, bill resigned his position as u. s. marshal, and in the spring of went to kansas city, where he found a place bristling with sports and excitements well suited to his disposition. about the same time the writer, who had been occupying an editorial position on the fort scott daily monitor, accepted an offer made him by the proprietors of the kansas city journal and took up a residence in the bluff city, where he became intimately acquainted with the heroic scout and learned much con- cerning his marvellous career. kansas city was a brisk town in . it contained a population of nearly , , and was the parent block off which was chipped all the gambling towns along the kan- sas pacific railroad. games of chance, cards, keno, faro, roulette, dice, cock-mains, dog fighting and kindred means for hazarding money ran day and night. on the west side of main, between fourth street and missouri avenue, there was nothing in the upper stories of the buildings except gamblers and gaming outfits. but this district was peculiar only in presenting an unbroken chain, as it were, of gambling dens. fifth street, between walnut and main, was equally bad, even worse, because the rooms were less inviting and patronized by a more disrep- utable class. the lower end of main street and the levee were given over to brothel houses, about which a first-class item could nearly always be found. the writer now recalls to mind one evening when he was de- tailed to report three murders and one suspicious death. heroes of the plains. but to-day the infamies and demoralizing characters which once filled the streets of kansas city exist only in the history of her progress, and the hum of her commerce has long since displaced the sonorous voice of the keno caller and the death-crack of the revolver. desperate fight between plainsmen on the levee at kansas city. notwithstanding the lawless, turbulent elements that gave character to kansas city during the period of wild bill's residence in the place, he kept himself aloof from them, in his quiet, dignified, reserved way, and thus life of wild bill. never had occasion to unloose the tiger that slumbered beneath his calm exterior. the peaceable tenor of bill's way was disturbed on but one occasion while he remained in the bluff city, and even this circumstance developed into a ludicrous rather than a sanguinary scene. joe siegmund, now proprietor of a railroad eating-house in malvern, arkansas, was at that time owner and keeper of the st. nicholas hotel, on the west side of the public square. attached to the hotel was a bar and billiard room, which gathered an excellent patronage from the gambling gentry, and was nearly always full of excited young bloods taking their initiatory lessons in broils and drinking. on the occasion referred to, september , , bill walked into the saloon with an acquaintance and took a seat near one of the billiard tables, to watch a game then in progress. he had been in the saloon only a few minutes when four “ larks,” two-thirds full of western cussedness, and the other third full of whisky, straggled around the room and stopped in front of bill. one of the quartette, desirous of establishing a reputation for belligerency, having heard much about wild bill, and knowing him by sight, in a most insulting manner halloed out to his com- panions : here, boys, is the great wild man of the prairies ; the mighty untamable giaftycutus that eats three men every night before retiring and rises so hungry that he sometimes chews up a whole town for breakfast. look out, i tell you, its just about his meal time now.” this harangue very naturally excited bill's anger, but with apparent indifference to the insult he only re- plied: “see here, young man, i'll lift you with the toe of my boot if you don't get away from here in five seconds." heroes of the plains. the young fellow was spoiling for a row, and showing the butt of his pistol he abused bill in a manner ab- solutely unbearable, calling him every vile name that a wicked native was capable of uttering. persuading efforts only serving to increase the belicose fellow's pro- pensities, bill at length got up, and catching hold of his shoulder, administered a stunning blow on the young man’s head which brought him to a realizing sense of his assailant's true nature. then holding him by one ear, bill boxed the impudent fellow's face until howls for mercy preserved him from a more severe beating. the lesson thus imparted was productive of excellent results, for the abashed “ larker," with tears in his eyes, slunk away, followed by his amazed companions. after the crowd had departed bill expressed many re- grets for having to use the young man so roughly, but every one present pronounced the whipping a most de- serving act, as it would probably serve to make the fel- low more respectful and considerate in his future con- duct. chapter xiii. in the fall of buffalo bill and texas jack had accepted a proposition made by ned buntline (judson) to go on the stage and make a theatrical tour of the states in a play which he proposed to write for them. the en- terprise proved such a decided success that for the season of - the buffalo bill combination, as it was called, made several flattering offers to wild bill to join them, and he was eventually induced to appear before the foot- lights in the bloody indian drama entitled “scouts of the plains." heroes of the plains. it was difficult to make them fall and die—although they were paid twenty-five cents each for performing the dying business." of his career during the period of his engagement with the buffalo bill combination, wild bill left no memoran- da from which his exploits might be gathered for publi- cation, but several interesting adventures are given in buffalo bill's autobiography, to which the writer is in- debted for many important facts concerning wild bill, from which the following extracts are taken: “one day at titusville, pennsylvania, while burke, the business agent, was registering our names and mak- ing arrangements for our accommodation, several of us started for the billiard room, but were met by the land- lord, who stopped me and said that there was a party of roughs from the lower oil regions who were spreeing, and had boasted that they were staying in town to meet the buffalo bill gang, and clean them out. the land- lord begged of me not to allow the members of the troupe to enter the billiard-room, as he did not wish any fight in his house, to please the landlord, and at his suggestion, i called the boys up into the parlor and ex- plained to them the situation. wild bill wanted to go at once and fight the whole mob, but i persuaded him to keep away from them during the day. “ in order to entirely avoid the roughs the members of the company entered the theatre through a private door from the hotel, as the two buildings joined each other. while i was standing at the door of the theatre taking tickets, the landlord came rushing up and said that wild bill was having a fight with the roughs in the bar-room. it seemed that bill had not been able to re- sist the temptation of going to see what kind of a mob it was that wanted to test the pluck of the buffalo bill life of wild bill. party; and just as he stepped into the room, one of the bruisers put his hand on bill's shoulder and said: . hello, buffalo bill! we have been looking for you all day.' my name is not buffalo bill; you are mistaken in the name,' was the reply. . you're a liar !' said the bruiser. “ bill instantly knocked him down, and then seizing a chair he laid out four or five of the crowd on the floor, and then drove the rest out of the room. all this was. done in a minute or two, and by the time i got down stairs, bill was coming out of the bar-room, whistling a lively tune. sro well! said he, i have been interviewing that party that wanted to clean us out.' "i thought you promised to come into the opera house by the private entrance ?' “i did try to follow that trail, but i got lost among the cañons, and then i ran in among the hostiles,' said he; but its all right now; they won't bother us any more.' “ we heard no more of them after that." when the company reached portland, maine, to fulfill an engagement, another incident occurred wherein wild bill again distinguished himself, though not in a personal combat. the leading members of the troupe stopped at the united states hotel, a large caravansary at which boarded several bachelor merchants of the town. on the night succeeding the first performance, bill retirod to bed shortly after twelve o'clock, feeling unusually tired, owing to a long walk he had taken during the day. before lying down he discovered that the room adjoining his was occupied by several persons engaged in some amusement which caused them to make considerable >> heroes of the plains. noise ; he retired to bed, however, and tried to sleep de- spite the tumult of his neighbors, but finding, at length, that the noise increased with no likelihood of abating soon, he got up with the intention of either suppressing the racket or having a first-class row. in partial undress he knocked at the door of his unknown neighbors only to find that the room was occupied by five of portland's leading business men, and that their noise was the result of a game of poker, spiced with liquid refreshments of savory perfume. before making known the purpose of his visit the party invited him to join them in the game and partake of the bottle which was now well nigh empty. nothing ever afforded bill so much pleasure as a game of poker, and to indulge this gratification he was always ready to sacrifice a night's rest. he therefore entered into the sport of the game and after playing until the party were fairly exhausted both in body and purse he got up from the table seven hundred dollars better off than when he sat down. in order that such pleasant company might not separate without some benefit he gen- erously gave them this parting advice : • gentlemen, i appreciate your hospitality, and espe- cially the good luck in which i have played to-night, therefore i will tell you a little secret, for it may prove very valuable to you all hereafter ; never wake up a stranger, destroy his rest, and invite him to take a hand in a game of poker with you. . good night.” buffalo bill, in conversation with the writer, told the following amusing story, which i will try to repeat near- ly in his own language : “when i had arranged terms with wild bill to ap- pear with my company, we were in new york playing an engagement, and i was stopping at the metropolitan hotel. bill arrived in new york after dark, and being life of wild bill. unacquainted with the city—this being his first visit there -he took a hack, instructing the driver to take him to the metropolitan hotel. upon arriving at the house, bill asked the driver his charges. . five dollars, sir,' was the reply. . and you wouldn't accept anything less, would you?' asked bill. no, sir, that's the charge, and nothing less.' “ bill then handed the driver five dollars, at the same time striking him a blow in the face that sent him plowing up the settlings of the gutter. a policeman very soon came after bill, but bail being furnished by me, he was kept out of the tombs; but the next day i paid a fine of $ for him. this was his first experience in new york. “we had two or three rehearsals together before bill made his appearance, and even then he was required to say only a few words. the first scene in which he was cast represented a camp fire, around which wild bill, texas jack and myself were sitting telling stories. in order to carry out the scene so that it should be a faith- ful counterfeit of the reality, we had a whisky bottle filled with cold tea which we passed from one to the other at the conclusion of each story. when it came bill's turn to relate an adventure i passed him the bottle, and taking it in the way with which he was so familiar, he commenced draining the contents. i say commenced, because he stopped very suddenly and spurted the tea right out on the stage, at the same time saying, in a voice loud enough for the audience to hear him : * you must think i'm the worst fool east of the rockies, that i can't tell whisky from cold tea. this don't count, and i can't tell a story under the temptation unless i get real whisky.' i tried to remonstrate with him, while the audience fairly shook down the galleries with their cheers. at first i was greatly heroes of the plains. mortified, but it did not take long to convince me that wild bill had unconsciously made a big hit. i therefore sent out for some whisky, which bill drank, and then told his story with excellent effect.” wild bill remained with the combination until the spring of , when, at rochester, n. y., he parted abruptly from the combination. but before deciding to cancel his engagement he met mrs. lake, who, by chance being in rochester, went to see the per- formance. buffalo bill had frequently heard wild bill declare his admiration for this lady, and when he discovered her in the audience he immediately informed wild bill of the fact and offered to introduce him again. the result was that mrs. lake and wild bill met and in the few moments they were together bill said : “mrs. lake, i don't know how to court, because i never did any of it in my life, but i've been thinking about you ever since we met in hays city. fact is, i'd be mighty glad to hitch up in harness with you, because i think we'd make a splendid team.” mrs. lake replied, “i don't know, zill, how well we would suit each other, but at the present time my busi- ness is in such a condition that i couldn't think of mar- rying.” “ how soon do you suppose you could straighten up matters so that we could go to the parson together?”' en- quired bill. “ well, it will require two years probably to settle my affairs, but your proposition comes so suddenly and un- expectedly that i should have to think about it, for i don't know that it would be proper for me to marry again,” was mrs. lake's reply, indicating that she was not indifferent to the offer made her. “i don't want to insist, but at the same time you suit life of wild bill. me to a dot, and i'd give my eyes to marry you; there- fore i'll give you time to consider. i've got to go on the stage now to kill a few indians to please this congre- gation, but when the show is out, maybe i might see you over at the osborne house." bill thus left mrs. lake, but contrary to his expecta- tions, did not see her again until . when he was called for his part during the same even- ing's performance, he resumed his old annoying practice of singeing the “supers" legs, and carried the trick so far this time that buffalo bill remonstrated so sharply that, without saying a word, wild bill doffed his buck- skin suit, and resuming his usual dress, walked out of the theatre, refusing to appear any more with the combi- nation. before he left rochester, however, buffalo bill and texas jack made up a purse between them of one thousand dollars and gave it to him as an evidence of their continued friendship. being considerably flush for a scout, wild bill went to new york, and while there, in a very laudable effort to break a faro bank, got himself ingloriously “busted.” in this condition a theatrical manager approached him with a liberal proposition, so that for a second time he became a votary of thespis, coming again before the public with the wild bill combination. but he had evidently struck a blind pocket of ill luck, for after a few fitful weeks of uncertainty the concern became pecuniarily defunct. after bill had left the new combination the manager immediately reorganized his troupe and replaced wild bill by a cheaper character. everywhere the company performed they advertised the renowned wild bill as their leading star, a member of the troupe being engaged to personate the distinguished scout on and off the stage alike. wild bill was not long in learning of this trick heroes of the plains. and at once decided to get satisfaction by undeceiving the deceiver. accordingly, learning that the company was to appear at binghamton, n. y., he went there to witness the performance. waiting until the plot was developing much interest to the audience, when the bogus wild bill was shooting and slashing his way through a band of howling comanches, he leaped upon the stage, and grab- bing the manager, flung him bodily into the orchestra, and then knocked the personator of his character through the scenes, regardless of the knives and pistols and tom- ahawks carried by the indians. this novel procedure precipitated an intermission, during which bill unconcernedly resumed his seat and shouted to the company to proceed with the show. information of the interruption having reached the municipal officers, a policeman was sent up to arrest bill. he was easily found, but when the officer asked him to consider himself under arrest the reckless scout replied : • how numerous are you?” “i am alone; why do you ask?” “well, i would advise you to call up some assistance.” the policeman took his advice and went out and soon returned with a brother officer. the two then approached bill and asked him to accompany them. “ how numerous are you now?” bill asked. . there are two of us.” “ then i would advise you to go out on another recruiting expedition.” the two policemen, anxious to avoid a conflict with the noted scout, then called the sheriff, who requested bill to submit to arrest, and had no difficulty in taking him out of the theater and keeping him in charge until the following morning, when his trial took place before the city judge. the circumstances of the row having . punishing a bogus character. beer his than and for two gar pla do ot bi su d. t life of wild bill. been detailed bill was fined three dollars and costs, but his satisfaction in punishing the bogus character more than compensated him for his expense and trouble. leaving the east, bill went directly to kansas city and from there to cheyenne, a place he had not visited for several years. here he drifted to a faro bank which was run by a gambler named boulder. bill had only two hundred dollars with him and he commenced the game by staking small amounts. losing all these, he played up for an average by doubling. staking fifty dollars he also lost that, but immediately put down an- other fifty dollar bill. boulder, who was banking, told bill, who was a stranger to him, that the limit was twenty-five dollars and that he couldn't play above that sum. why,” enquired bill, “ didn't you just take fifty dollars of my money?”' well," answered boulder, “i won't let you play that amount any more.' “ you won't?'' replied bill, “ then i'll see why; that fifty dollar bill lays on the tray, and if my card don't turn, the money is yours, but if it does come out, then i'll have fifty dollars of your money or there 'll be fun here, that's all.” from this a war of words followed, until bill struck boulder on the head with a heavy walking cane, which rolled him off a substantial seat. several bouncers for the establishment rushed upon bill, but he knocked them in a most artistic manner, until finding the fighting too progressive he jumped into a corner and jerked out two pistols. at this juncture the bar-keeper, attending the saloon down stairs, hearing the noise, ran up and discov- ering the situation, cried out : “look out, boys, that's wild bill !” heroes of the plains. this information acted like magic; the tempest was becalmed, and a moment later bill was alone. on the following day boulder, although still nursing a badly damaged head, called on bill and producing cham- pagne and cigars, the two settled their difference ami- cably. some time after the killing of phil cole, his brother, a well-known character in the far west, came to hays city ' with the expressed determination of avenging his rela- tive's death. wild bill had only a few days before gone to new york to join the buffalo bill combination. learning this fact, cole professed to be deeply chagrined, saying : “yes, that is just my luck. i've come one thousand miles to kill wild bill, only to find that the coward has left the country; but i'll just lay for him a while in these regions, and if he does come back we'll decide who is the handiest with pistols.” weeks passed by, with bill still in the east, wholly unconscious of jim cole's intentions, until at length, as already described, wild bill severed his connection with the troupe and returned west, going to cheyenne. he had scarcely reached that place when he was apprised by a friend writing from hays city that jim cole was on his track and was about ready to leave for cheyenne to meet him. bill gave little heed to this information, because such threats as cole was making had grown old to him. about two weeks after his arrival in cheyenne, how- ever, bill suddenly became conscious of the danger which threatened him. this discovery was made in the follow- ing manner : he was sitting in luke murrin's sa- loon reading, when his attention was directed to two strangers who, entering, walked up to the bar and called for a drink. the order was given by jim cole, and life of wild bill. though bill had never seen this man, he instantly recog- nized in his voice a similarity to that of phil cole's, and was thus brought to a realization of his danger. by chance, at the time of this meeting, wild bill's only weapon was a small double-barreled pistol which buffalo bill had given him in new york; but still more disad- vantageous was the fact that it contained but a single cartridge. behind the bar was a very large looking glass, and as the faces of cole and his partner were turned toward the glass, bill could study their features and keep himself prepared (though indifferently) for the emergency soon to arise. by a preconcerted signal the two men turned and drew their pistols simultaneously, but bill was too quick for his assailants. with the one shot he killed cole and almost at the same instant he threw the empty pistol with such force in the face of cole's partner that he succeeded in rendering his aim harmless. to follow up this advantage and prevent the stranger from shooting again, bill grabbed him and with a dexterous effort trip- ped him and threw him with such force that his head struck the counter and broke his neck. the coroner sat on " the two bodies the same day, and wild bill was duly arrested. a preliminary exami- nation was had a few days after, and such positive testi- mony was adduced proving cole's threats and determi- nation, as well also as the circumstances of the attack made by the victims, that bill was released on a verdict of justifiable homicide. heroes of the plains. chapter xiv. wild bill remained in cheyenne only a short time, for meeting with a party of friends who were wandering about in quest of adventure, he proposed a visit to the black hills, which section was just then beginning to attract attention on account of important discoveries of gold. two of the party—tom busey, of laramie, and doc mcgregor, an old trapper, who had just left his season camp on the nebraska river-were delighted with bill's proposition, and a few days later, having packed their mules with provisions and mining utensils, the three started for the hills. after leaving cheyenne there was but one practicable route to the point of destination, and this led along sage creek to the confluence of cheyenne river, and followed the main stream to french creek. after reaching this small water way the route lay through several large cañons, under the brow of one of which, on a level spot only a few hundred yards from the creek, the party pitched their camps. after a few days' hard work a comfortable cabin was constructed and prospecting began. in comparatively comfortable quarters the three men continued their explorations for gold, meeting with much success and living luxuriously upon the abundant game with which the forests abounded. notwithstanding the war-like tendencies of the blackfeet and sioux indians who possessed that section of country, the party lived for a period of several months without interruption, nor were any indians seen in the vicinity of their camp. in the early part of april, , however, while the party was still in camp, bill met with an adventure which deserves to rank with the most marvelous of his many life of wild bill. escapes. winter was still holding the creek in icy fetters and the ground remained covered with a crust of snow. the evening had been spent, as usual, in smoking and the cabin in the black hills. heroes of the plains. reading well-worn books. over the fire hung a pail of boiling beans and above the cheerful, blazing house logs were the rifles and wide-spreading antlers of a mon- strous buck. this completed a perfect picture of fron- tier happiness, for such contentment is rarely found even in the most sumptuous elegance of metropolitan mansions. before supper was prepared—or rather before the beans were boiled sufficiently—bill, who was acting as cook, discovered that more water was required to finish the cooking, and that the water bucket was empty. putting on his coat, he took the bucket and a canteen- the only vessels in the camp used for holding water—and started for the stream. the moon was shining with scintillating lustre, lighting up the cañon and throwing out long shadows from the trees overhead. as bill was stooping to dip the water from a hole cut in the ice, chancing to glance about him he saw a large, silver-gray fox trotting on the ice up the creek. this was a prize of no inconsiderable value, the pelt being mar- ketable readily at from fifty to sixty dollars. in a mo- ment bill pulled his pistol and fired at the animal, but succeeded in only breaking one of its hind-legs. the creek made a sharp turn at this point and in order that he might not lose the prize, bill set out in pursuit, ex- pecting soon to secure another shot. every moment, just as an opportunity appeared on the point of being of- fered for a shot, the fox would dart behind some interven- ing object, so that it was useless for bill to fire, and yet the distance between them continued only a few yards. in this manner the scout was lured mile after mile, uncon- scious of the distance he had traveled, until the large cañon rose up before him in black and singular grand- the moon had now gone down behind the tower- ing hills, leaving the creek an indistinct line difficult to eur. life of wild bill. follow. with all his persistent pursuit and lengthy journey he failed to capture the prize for which so much time and effort had been expended; for the growing darkness had enabled the fox to elude his pursuer and hide somewhere about the roots of the numerous trees which fringed the stream. retracing his steps again, bill had proceeded but a **che wiruuminuto wild bill and the fox. short distance when he was startled by an unmistakaolo sound emanating from the direction of the camp. it was the distinct war-whoop of northern sioux, and immedi- ately apprehensions arose in his mind for the safety of his comrades. anxious to render aid when it was doubly valuable, bill ran down the creek with all possible speed, but before arriving near the camp he discovered a bright tinge in the atmosphere which told him that the cabin heroes of the plains. was on fire. still running swiftly he did not pause until reaching the opening leading down to the creek, when he saw a band of twenty or more indians dancing around the burning timbers of his home and consuming the whisky which they had found in a keg in the cabin. there was presented before him a panorama replete with destruction and broken hopes. he saw the bleeding scalps of his comrades displayed as trophies of this mur- derous depredation, and realizing that there was nothing left for him to do but to look after his own safety, he decided to leave the country at once, on foot, as the stock of his party was now in the hands of the indians, and make directly for ft. fetterman. the well known cunning and suspicion peculiar to the indians bill knew would lead to an examination of the vicinity to discover if there were any others belonging to the camp whom chance had led away, and this examina- tion he felt certain would result in a discovery of his trail and lead to pursuit. acting on this belief he trav- eled with what speed he was capable, never stopping for rest during the entire night. after daylight, on the following morning, observing no indications of a pursuit, and being almost worn out with fatigue, he lay down beside a tree and immediately fell asleep. it was fully an hour past mid-day when he awoke, and being as hungry now as he was tired before, he at once cast about with the hope of finding some kind of game upon which to satisfy his gnawing appetite. fortune threw in his way a sage-hen, which a single shot dispatched, and upon this he soon made an excellent meal. scattering the embers of the fire he had built that it might not readily afford fresh evidence of his trail, should it be pursued, bill resumed the southward march, hoping to gain ft. fetterman in the two days mucceeding. life of wild bill. on the evening of the second day, while ascending to the summit of a knoll which lay in his route, looking away to the northwest, bill discovered some suspicious spots on the rim of the horizon which bordered the prai- rie. studying these for a few minutes, his keen sense of perception told him that the moving figures were those of indians, while the direction indicated that they were on his track. south of the place where bill discovered his trailing enemies was a strip of heavy timber which he thought overhung the banks of upper beaver creek. being less than three miles distant, he hoped to gain this covert and by wading in the stream throw the indians off his track, which was now easily followed by impressions in the thin crust of snow still covering the ground. hurriedly he set off, knowing that no time was to be lost, for the indians were evidently riding at a fast pace, and were, perhaps, less than ten miles distant. he had approached to within about one mile of the strip of woods when a troop of fifteen or more sioux dashed over the knoll that had hid theni from bill's sight, and seeing the fleeing man they urged their horses to a run, shouting with exultation over the promise of a fresh victim. unfortunately for bill, when he left the camp, harbor- ing not the remotest suspicion of meeting with any ad- venture, he had taken with him but a single pistol, of six chambers, and even this weapon he had retained only from custom. two chambers of the pistol had been emptied, and what defence he could now make lay in the four loads remaining. a lively chase ensued, bill running at his greatest speed, but it soon became apparent that his chances for escape were exceedingly small. to add to his emwar- heroes of the plains. rassment, having reached the timber several hundred yards in advance of his pursuers, he discovered that the stream, which was of considerable width and evidently deep, ran along the edge of the timber next to him, and that the bank was a ledge of shelving rocks fully fifteen feet in height. the creek was frozen over, to what thickness bill had no means of ascertaining, but he was afraid to leap from the precipitous bank lest the ice should not be sufficiently strong to sustain his weight, and in that event results from the fall would either have killed him outright or caused such bodily injury as would have made him an easy victim to the indians. bill had faced many dangerous dilemmas during his adventurous life, but for the time being he thought this one offered the least chances for escape. had he been armed sufficiently, he thought, it were possible for him to seek the cover of some friendly tree, and thus par- tially protected fight with at least a faint hope of saving his scalp; but having only four bullets it was impossible to use them with sufficient economy for his present needs. on came the whooping savages, but without discharg- ing an arrow or firing a shot, evidently bent on capturing the fugitive and reserving him for the stake. seeing that to run along the towering brink would only hasten his end, the intrepid scout turned upon his pursuers when they were within a few yards, and discharging every load in his pistol, saw three of his enemies fall dead and an- other wounded, apparently mortally. at this the indians drew down their guns and bows, realizing that they had caught an obstinate tartar that it were safer to kill than to capture. but bill was too quick for them; taking desperate chances, as he discharged his last shot, and still holding his pistol in a position as if intending to life of wild bill. even fire, he threw himself over the dangerous brink into the stream below. it is singular how fortune follows the daring, but more singular how lucky circumstances almost always arose to deliver wild bill when surrounding dan- gers seemed to offer no hope for escape. so it again transpired in descending from the stony ledge overhang- ing beaver creek, for instead of being dashed to pieces taking desperate chances. or seriously crippled, bill fell into an air-hole, and beyond the chill of a submersion, he escaped all serious results. the water was very deep, but he managed to keep well concealed from the indians, and clambering under the ledge soon got onto the ice, which he found to be more than a foot in thickness. the red-skins, loth to lose a victim who had, for the time, so singularly heroes of the plains. escaped them, rode up the bank of the stream, löping to find a less precipitous place, where a safe descent might be made on horseback, and following back under the bank, yet capture the fugitive, or find his mangled body, from which some trophy might be obtained. bill continued his journey down the stream, always keeping under the protecting ledge. he expected the indians would soon appear, and with this fear continual- ly harassing him, he looked on every side for some shelter in which to hide. but there was nothing to help him out of the position which strange circumstances had forced him into. darkness had now intervened, and this alone offered any hope ; but even this seemed to be of little value after several hours of rapid traveling, when he still found no place at which he could ascend out of the cañon. on either side the bank rose in perpendicular walls, growing gradually higher as he advanced, and towering above him like grim monsters anxious to topple over and make sure of his destruction. having had nothing to eat since dining on the sage- hen, he again became very hungry; but the chances of getting anything to eat were only equal to his chances of escape and reaching ft. fetterman. all night long, therefore, he journeyed on the ice, maintaining a watchful regard for every cleft and crevice in the cañon, fearful of each, lest it might be a passage-way for the indians, and hoping that it might permit his ascent, for in following the devious ways of beaver creek he knew that, instead of going toward to the fort, he was fre- quently traveling in an opposite direction. as day began to break on the following morning, bill discovered the protruding trunk of a large cedar tree, by which there was a very rugged but possible ascent up the side of the cañon. being exceedingly tired, he concluded life of wild bill. to rest a while on the tree trunk, behind which he could screen himself from the observation of the indians should they appear on the ice, and in which place he felt secure from detection by any one above him. the weather had moderated so much during the night that with the first rays of the morning sun not a trace of snow was left on the ice or ground, which was a kindness of nature toward the fugitive as grateful as it was unexpected. with a wild bill's miraculous escape from the indians. feeling of partial relief, he gave way to exhaustion, and fell asleep hugging the trunk of his friendly shelter. when he awoke, several hours afterward, the sky was overcast with angry, threatening clouds, while a succes- sion of heaven's cannonading presaged the terrible storm which was rapidly approaching. the rain soon began to fall in great drops, and in a short time afterward he heroes of the plains. heard in the distance the mighty roar of rushing water as it came down the cañon. appreciating the danger of his position, he was on the point of clambering up the rugged bank to escape the rising waters when his atten- tion was attracted by the yells of indians. looking in the direction from whence the sounds proceeded, he wit- nessed with intense relief the struggles of his now fated enemies, tossed on the seething crests of the torrent as it tore down the cañon, lashing the rocks with the bodies of horses and indians, stifling their despairing cries and sweeping them remorselessly in the dreadful billows. fortune had again favored him. his enemies were buried in the destroying foam of the avalanche of grind- ing ice and water, and a sure way for his escape was opened at a time most opportune. the indians had evidently gone many miles up the creek bank before they found a place permitting their descent onto the ice, and they had followed down the stream only to be caught by the torrents of water which cut off all chances for their escape. bill climbed with great difficulty to the top of the bank, and marking a straight line southward reached fort fetterman in an exhausted and famished condition four days after leaving his desolated camp. chapter xv.. wild bill was well received by the soldiers garrisoned at fetterman, and after relating the story of his wonder- ful adventures in the black hills there was great desire manifested to at once organize a campaign for the purpose of punishing the tribe that was responsible for the per- life of wild bil.l. petration of such an outrage. but gen. curtis, who had command of the troops, could not move without orders from gen. sheridan, and bill therefore returned to kansas city. his five months stay in the hills, how- ever, convinced him of the rich deposits of gold which that section contained, and he decided to organize an ex- pedition from the states, with the view of leading a force into the auriferous region of such strength as would pro- vide security against molestation from the indians. in furtherance of his scheme bill visited several cities, but the season was now so far advanced that those whom he found willing to join such an expedition, prevailed upon him to wait until the following spring, , when the trip could be made more advantageously. returning to kansas city he remained for some time inactive owing to an attack of ophthalmia superinduced no doubt from the exposure he underwent while in the black hills. dr. thorne treated him for several months with such success that his eyesight, which was for a time entirely destroyed, was partly restored, but he never again regained his perfect vision. in the latter part of february, , wild bill again visited cheyenne with the view of perfecting necessary arrangements with some of his friends of that place, for entering the gald region with his proposed expedition. by a singular coincidence (each being wholly unaware of the other's whereabouts,) mrs. lake also appeared in cheyenne at the same time, visiting one of her relatives, mr. s. l. moyer. each had been in the town nearly two weeks before either was aware of the other's pres- ence, as no one in the place knew of the tender regard that existed between them, or even of their acquaintance. one evening, while in conversation with an intimate friend, bill spoke of his admiration for mrs. lake, and heroes of the plains. forthwith he was struck with astonishment by the declan iation of his friend : why, mrs. lake is in the city now; didn't you know it?'' “oh, you're joking," answered bill ; “if i was cer- tain this town held her now, you could just prepare for a wedding, and that mighty quick, too.” · no, i'm not joking, and if you 'll go over with me to mr. moyer's, to whom i'll introduce you, i'll show you mrs. lake.” this proposition satisfied bill, and the two immedi- ately started for mr. moyer's house, where, happy realiza- tion, bill met his future wife. becoming directly acquainted with the affectionate re- lation sustained between bill and mrs. lake, mr. moyer and his family withdrew and left them alone. wild bill then renewed his suit, and pressed his claims with such persistency that the engagement was perfected and ar- rangements concluded for the wedding, which it was agreed should take place on the following day. several intimate friends of bill were surprised to re- ceive invitations, on the morning of march th, to wit- ness the wedding ceremonies of j. b. hickok, (wild bill) and mrs. agnes lake thatcher, in the afternoon of the same day. of course they all responded, and when the contracting parties stood up it was before an audience numbering about twenty persons. the rev. w. f. warren, a methodist divine of cheyenne, performed the service at mr. moyer's residence, and after receiving many congratulations the couple took the evening train east and went directly to st. louis, where, after spend- ing a few days, they proceeded to cincinnati, where nu- merous relatives of mrs. lake lived. here they were received with many kind manifestations from all who kife of wild bill. knew them, and their new life thus began under au- spicious promises for future happiness. in this connection it is proper to give the reader an in- troduction to the new wife of our hero, especially since mrs. hickok is a lady whose name has been prominently before the people of both continents for many years. the widow of wild bill is a native of cincinnati, where she was born in ; her maiden name was agnes thatcher, and her parents were persons of eminent standing. at the age of fifteen she married william lake who soon afterward became proprietor of a circus and followed the life of a showman until his unprovoked murder in . as an arenic clown lake had few equals and his name was sufficient to pack a canvas. mrs. lake, at an early age, manifested a talent for the profession which her husband so fittingly adorned. she was the original “mazeppa,” and played this great character throughout europe and america ; she also ap- peared on the theatre boards in many other starring parts, always with success. after joining her husband's circus she became the greatest slack-wire performer in america, and was the first person to execute the daring feat of trundling a wheelbarrow, on a small wire, over the centre-pole of a circus tent. but her most distin- guished performances were in equestrian acts, and especially as a manege rider. in this she never had an equal until her own daughter, emma, arose to a position of prominence when the mother had retired from the in her travels— - —she visited the largest cities of prussia, and in berlin she appeared as “mazep- pa” at the victoria theatre, rendering the part in the german language. so well pleased was the emperor william, who witnessed the performance, that he sent her an autograph letter of thanks, and recommended her arena. heroes of the plains. of as the piost finished actor then in the empire. for a time she also performed the daring feat of entering a den of lions twice each day, and was known as “ senorita agnes, the lion queen.” after the death of her hus- band, for more than three years she successfully man- aged the hippo-olympiad circus, attending to all the managerial details of the business and taking the part of å regular performer also. an interesting book of itself might be written concerning the life of this excellent woman, who now, nursing the grief which misfortune bequeathed her-lamenting the loss of two loving hus- bands, both of whom were the victims of foulest murder --she lives only in the ambition of her beautiful daugh- ter, her only child, who now delights the western world with her electrical horsemanship. miss emma lake, though only twenty-five years age, is a phenomenal circus rider, whose reputation has spread over both hemispheres. she is indisputably without an equal on horseback, especially as a manege rider. beautiful of face and figure, lithe and sinuous as the mother of grace, indomitable and delighted with her profession, she has achieved a rank which the most am- bitious woman can never hope to excel. in addition to her achievements in the ring she is a lady of extra- ordinary intelligence and culture, possessing a finished education and most refined sensibilities. her literary efforts have found a conspicuous place in the leading journals of america, and some of her poetical pro- ductions exhibit decided talent. miss emma lake, as she is known among those of her profession, is the wife of gil. robinson, jr., son of the celebrated john robin- son, of circus fame. she has been traveling, however, with p. t. barnum's exhibition for several years, re- ceiving the largest salary of any person employed by that life of wild bill. well-known showman. her residence is in cincinnati, where she has an elegant home. she has one child, a beautiful little girl, who is the pride of the neighbor- hood, and with her lives mrs. hickok, whose every want is administered to with true filial devotion. chapter xvi. wild bill remained with his wife in cincinnati nearly two weeks, and then giving her an affectionate good- bye, went directly to st. louis for the purpose of get- ting his proposed expedition organized. excitement over the black hills discoveries was now at fever heat, and a lively business was being done at bismarck and cheyenne in fitting out parties who were rushing into the gold region with reckless haste. a great number of those intent on reaching the hills went by boat from st. louis to bismarck and then overland. but bill con- sidered the route from cheyenne as the most expeditious and practicable; and his company was organized to pro- ceed that way, where outfits could he had much cheaper than at bismarck. it required several days to make up the desired num- ber of men, as bill had fixed upon not less than one hun- dred and fifty, and during this period of organization he daily visited the writer, who was then city editor of the evening dispatch, and reported the progress of his scheme. in the latter part of march about one hundred persons had joined the expedition at st. louis, and nearly as many more had enlisted under carpenter at kansas city, so that the two companies were consolidated and started heroes of the plains. to the black hills via cheyenne on the th of april. the party was guided through safely, reaching the hills in the first part of may. in the meantime the town of deadwood had sprung into being and was filling up with the rapidity only known to mining towns. rough shan- ties and tents dotted the hillsides ; creaking wagons marked out the streets by establishing roadways, and a hundred saloons and other evil concomitants loomed up in swelling the town's importance. what's view of deadwood. having settled the men, or rather discharged his duties as guide, bill established himself in deadwood to watch for an opportunity to make a profitable strike. he had located several claims and was making arrangements to complete the necessary assessment work by trading claims for labor. deadwood, like every other big mining town that has yet been located in the west, was full of rough charac- life of wild bill. ters, renegades, cut-throats, gamblers and the devil's agents generally. night and day the wild orgies of de- praved humanity continued ; a fiddler was an important personage, provided he would hire out to saw all night in a saloon, and the concert singer was a bonanza, especially if the voice were clothed in petticoats. the arbiter of all disputes was either a knife or pistol, and the graveyard soon started with a steady run of victims. sodom and gomorrah were both dull, stupid towns compared with deadwood, for in a square contest for the honors of moral depravity the black hills” capital could give the people of the dead sea cities three points in the game and then skunk them both. wild bill indulged his propensities more or less while in deadwood, but continued to prospect and avoided difficulties of every character until the day of his murder. in my first “ life of wild bill ” i was led into mak- ing a very unjust allusion, which was as far from the truth as the poles are apart. this arose from informa- tion which i believed trustworthy but which i definitely ascertained sometime afterward, was a malicious report, and the pleasure i now have in correcting the evil which i unconsciously committed by that act is such that i should be glad to extend the excuse and correction far beyond the limits of this book, and make my assurances of regret in person. the allusion referred to was in doubting the affection of bill for his wife and asserting that a final separation had occurred between them before bill left for the hills. the facts are, no man ever loved a woman more ardently than bill did his wife; she was in his very soul ; her spirit was his ruling mentor and all his ambition was centered in her happiness. how true this is may be in- heroes of the hlains. will go ferred from the following letter, the very last bill ever wrote. i copy from the original, which is at present in my possession : deadwood, dakota, july th, . my own darling wife agnes : i have but a few moments left before this letter starts. i never was as well in my life; but you would laugh to see me now—just got in from prospecting. away again to-morrow. will write again in the morning, but god knows when the letter will start. my friend will take this to cheyenne if he lives. i don't expect to hear from you, but it is all the same; i know my agnes and only live to love her. never mind, pet, we will have a home yet, then we will be so happy. i am almost sure i will do well here. the man is hurrying me. good bye, dear wife. love to emma. j. b. hickok. this letter is copied verbatim. it will be seen that he promises to write again on the following day, but he either neglected to fulfill the promise or the letter mis- carried, for the one here reproduced was the last mrs. hickok ever received from him. the last act in the life of wild bill was fast approach- ing when this letter was written. though he lived in apparent peace with everyone in deadwood, far re- moved as he was from the scenes of his personal con- flicts, where he looked for enemies in every corner and at every turn, yet even here, while among new found friends, it was destined that he should die at the hands of as cowardly a villain as god ever placed on this sphere to disgrace the name of humanity. returning from another prospecting tour along the gulches in the black hills, wild bill repaired to a saloon kept by nuttall & mann, and engaged in a game of poker. his opponent in the game was a fellow he had assassination of wild bill. life of wild bill: sense. never seen before, named jack mccall. this man had been at work for three or four different parties in the hills, and as his previous history was unknown, he passa ed for a “gentleman,” to use the term in a qualified the two played for several hours and until the game was concluded by bill having won largely from mccall--about five hundred dollars. but though the play had been a very disastrous one for jack, yet he ap- peared in no wise ill-humored, and acknowledged that he had been beaten in a fair game. in the afternoon of the second day (wednesday, august d), after his successful bout with mccall, bill again engaged in a game of poker at the same saloon, with carl mann, charley rich and captain massey, a missouri river pilot. the quartette of gamesters were all laughing and joking as the game progressed, indicat- ing that none had lost so heavily as to disturb the equanimity of temper. about three o'clock p. m. jack mccall was seen entering the saloon in a careless man- ner, so that not the least suspicion was created as to the cowardly, villainous purpose of his visit. but with that calculating carefulness with which an arrant coward always conceals his designs, mccall walked up to the bar and around behind his victim. then, with an anxious glance lest some one of the party might detect his move- ments, he jerked out a large pistol and placing the muz- zle within a yard of wild bill's head, fired, exclaiming at the time, but in a subdued voice : “damn you, take that!” the ball went crasbing through the back of bill's head and came out at the center of his right cheek; but before it had spent its force it struck capt. massey in the left arm, shivering the bone, and was so firmly embedded that it had to be cut out. wild bill dropped his head forward, the cards fell from life of wild bill. trial according to the usages of self-constituted courts outside the pale of established legal jurisdictions. a meeting of citizens was held at the theatre during the evening, at which preparations were made for the trial. judge w. l. kuykendall presided over the as- semblage, and after stating the object of the meeting he was unanimously chosen as judge in the trial of the mur- derer. isaac brown was elected sheriff, and one deputy and twelve guards were appointed by the presiding of- ficer. after proceeding thus far an adjournment was had until nine o'clock the following day, in order that some time might be had for necessary preparations, and to convey an announcement of the results of the meet- ing to the miners of the whitewood and deadwood dis- tricts. at the appointed hour, on thursday, the meeting was called pursuant to adjournment, when the action of the preceding meeting was submitted in a report read by j. a. swift, and adopted. col. may was chosen to con- duct the prosecution while the prisoner selected a. b. chapline to defend him, but as chapline was quite ill at the time, judge miller was named instead. a commit- tee of three, consisting of mr. reid, of gayville, jos. harrington, of deadwood, and mr. cain, of montana city, was next appointed by the chair, whose duty it was to select the names of thirty-three residents from each of their respective districts, and from the names thus sub- mitted the jury of twelve was to be drawn. having now completed all the necessary arrangements another adjournment was ordered until two o'clock p. m. when the trial was to begin. the excitement on the streets continued to increase and sentiments of every character were fully expressed. some favored a lynching before trial, a few deemed the heroes of thË plains. act justifiable, while a greater number were disposed to abide the finding of the jury after a fair trial. promptly at the hour appointed the chosen officers filed into the theater building, the prisoner being con- ducted by the sheriff and guards. the improvised court room, however, was fairly packed an hour before, and the officers therefore had to elbow their way to the plat- form. jack mccall, as he took a seat on the right of judge kuykendall, presented a most forbidding appearance. he was twenty-five years of age, but dissipation and a low life had painted their stains on his ugly features. his brow was low and retreating, as a sign of his cow- ardly and brutal propensities, while sandy hair, small moustaches and cross-eyes completed the unmistakable evidences of his villainous character. he attempted to appear indifferent and assume the role of a desperado who had been accustomed to acting such parts, but de- spite this effort the chicken liver he possessed made his flesh creep and the blanche and color of his cheeks come and go like a patient badly overcome with intermittent fever. the first proceeding was a selection of jurors. the ninety-nine names submitted by the committee were written on slips of paper and placed in a hat, from which they were drawn by the deputy sheriff. as each name was called the person responding thereto was examined touching his qualifications to serve as a juror in the case. nearly all had either formed or expressed an opinion as to the guilt of the prisoner, and the venire was therefore almost exhausted before the necessary panel of twelve was chosen, and which consisted of the following persons : john mann, j.j. bumfs, l.d. brokow, edward burke, l. a. judd, j. h. thompson, charles whitehead, john e. life of wild bill. thompson, geo. s. hopkins, k. f. towle, j. f. cooper and alexander travis. the jury being sworn, the trial proceeded. the witnesses examined were charles rich, carl mann, samuel young, an employe at the saloon, geo. m. shingle, who was also a witness of the tragedy, isaac brown, who arrested the prisoner, patrick h. smith, h. h. pitkins and ira ford. the last three were introduced on behalf of defendant to prove his character as a peaceable man. the evidence was all in accordance with the facts of the tragedy as reported, except that considerable time was consumed in eliciting opinions of witnesses respecting the character of both wild bill and his murderer, and of course a great variety of opin- ions were expressed. after the testimony was concluded, the prisoner was asked if he desired to make any statement. . yes," was his response, “i have a few words to say,” and stepping down from the perch on which he had been sitting into the auditorium, he placed one hand inside the front opening of his woolen shirt, and throw- ing back his head in an imperious manner, delivered him- self as follows: well, men, i have but few words to say. wild bill killed my brother, and i killed him. wild bill threatened to kill me if i ever crossed his path. i am not sorry for what i done ; if i had to, i would do the same thing over again.” he then returned to his place on the stage. the prosecuting attorney, instead of making an open- ing argument, used the time in bringing out the testi- mony of a number of persons who swore that wild bill had been much abused and a reputation given him for atrocious deeds which he never deserved ; that in every instance when he killed any one the act had always been declared as justifiable by every fair-minded person, heroes of the plains. judge miller, the defendant's counsel, then followed, making a very able appeal in behalf of his client; though not a scintilla of evidence had been produced showing that wild bill had killed mccall's brother, yet he used the assertion made by the prisoner with telling effect. he eloquently enlarged on the intention of the defendant, who, as he asserted, had not considered the act as mur- der, but a just revenge for the killing of his brother; that bill's dexterity in the use of firearms rendered it impossible for the prisoner to meet his victim - on the square, as such an attempt would have been almost equal to suicide. in addition to this kind of argument the judge closed with the following appeal to the jury: “men, comrades, you have been chosen to decide the guilt and punishment of one of your own companions ; look upon the honest countenance of this poor boy who is being tried for his life because he struck down the assassin of a dearly beloved brother; note, particularly, that unflinching and innocent eye, which could not possi- bly belong to a man who could do any wrong,” and con- tinued for nearly half an hour in coining similar extrava- gant qualifications which were a very parody on the brute who was on trial; or as a correspondent who was present at the trial said, in his comments on the judge's panegyric, “the eye, the face, and in fact everything about the prisoner, denoted villainy and iniquity as an innate part of his nature.” the judge certainly deserved credit for making so able an effort when there was no real basis upon which to rest a valid defense. col. may made the closing argument on behalf of the prosecution, and those who knew him best declared it the ablest speech of his life. after rehearsing the facts of the case he declared that "if this be not murder then life of wild bill. >> there never was murder committed. the deceased in his bloody winding-sheet, from his mountain grave, de- manded that a proper punishment be meted out to his villainous assassin." he called attention to the fact that no testimony had been adduced to show that wild bill had ever done a single unlawful act, but contended that in every instance where he had shed human blood that he was justifiable in so doing, and that no evidence had been submitted to show that he had threatened the life of the prisoner. “it is strange," said the colonel, “if the prisoner has been living for years with a sworn deter- mination to kill wild bill, that only two days ago he should have been pleasantly engaged playing cards with him." he appealed for justice in the name of law and civilization, and begged the people not to suffer such an atrocious and unprovoked crime to go unpunished lest the barbaric code of the indians become the arbiter of disputes. the trial was not concluded until six o'clock in the evening, at which time the case was given to the jury, and they repaired to a wing of the theatre to prepare their verdict. as was afterward ascertained, when the jury first voted there were eleven for acquittal and one for conviction. some debate then followed among them, when another juror proposed that the prisoner be fined in the sum of twenty dollars and then released, or be committed until the fine should be paid. after an hour and thirty minutes of discussion the jury came to a compromise conclusion, and when they returned into court, which remained in session awaiting a verdict, the foreman handed to the clerk their finding, which read as follows: “ we, the jurors, find the prisoner, mr. john mccall, not guilty. “ charles whitehead, foreman." heroes of the plains. the prisoner was immediately released, and some few who sanctioned this endorsement of one of the foulest, premeditated and utterly indefensible murders ever com- mitted, had the audacity to congratulate mccall on his acquittal. thus ended this self-constituted farcical court, and the citizens who attended the trial at once went to their homes and cleaned up their weapons. if the society of deadwood permitted one man to slaughter another with impunity in the manner mccall had killed wild bill, then every person in the place recognized the overshadowing importance of being prepared for emer- gencies. chapter xviii. after the inquest on the remains of wild bill the body was given in charge of charley utter (colorado charley) whose friendship for the dead man had existed for many years. a bier, or litter, was made by laying some boards across two poles, on which the body was placed and carried by a procession of friends across the creek to utter's camp. here the final preparations for the funeral were made, and that too with a hand which took this last means of demonstrating the depth of its friendship. charley was much affected by the death of his old comrade, and like a true brother during life, his love and admiration intensified when death severed the bond of companionship. a romantic and beautiful arbor was constructed at the foot of the most majestic trees in the gulch by utter's camp, under which the body of wild bill was laid, while a fine coffin was ordered, and the following funeral notice life of wild bill. was printed and distributed among all the miners of the district: funeral notice. died in deadwood, black hills, august d, , from the effects of a pistol shot, j. b. hickok, (wild bill), formerly of cheyenne, wyoming. funeral services will be held at charley utter's camp on thursday after- noon, august d, , at three o'clock, p. m. all are respectfully invited to attend. at the appointed hour, notwithstanding the large num- ber who were in attendance at the trial, fully fifty friends and admirers of the deceased assembled at utter's camp ready to pay the last rites of respect to him whose life had been such a fitful dream. the mortal remains of wild bill now reposed in a handsome coffin mounted with silver ornaments and covered with black cloth. the body was handsomely dressed in the best clothes obtain- able in deadwood. a more complete picture of perfect rest and resignation was never seen than that which the dead scout presented. the gaping wound in his cheek had been deftly closed and was scarcely noticeable ; his long, beautiful, chestnut hair lay parted evenly across his forehead and fell gracefully over his broad shoulders. the face was a study for any beholder; instead of mani- festing the agony of death, there was nothing but peace and contentment on his features; the lips were slightly parted as if still smiling at the last joke which was pass- ing around the table when the fatal shot was fired. be- side him, in his coffin, lay his carbine rifle that he had carried for many years, and was now to be buried with him according to a wish he had often expressed. a grave had been prepared in a most romantically lovely spot on the mountain side, over which spread the foliage of redolent pine trees, and around which was a profusion of wild flowers, freighting the air with deli- heroes of the plains. cious perfumes. on every side, making the landscape replete with nature's grandest effects, were towering boulders, from between the crevices of which peeped out fragrant sweet wiiliams and violets, mingling their in- cense with the concert of warbling voices in the branches overhead. it was such a spot as the brave sleeper would have selected for his sepulcher, for he loved the forest solitudes, and made companionship with the wilds of the wilderness. here, under the bright arch of an auspicious heaven, under the arbor nature had prepared with lavish hand, wild bill was laid in that sleep which, perchance, is eternal waking, and with him were all his animosities, his desires for revenge, his ambitions, and his expecta- tions. a clergyman read an impressive funeral service over the grave, after which the earth's warm, virgin sod, full of bursting seeds and growing flowers, soon covered the remains of the greatest scout, spy and fighter any nation, perhaps, ever produced. a large stump stood at the head of the grave, and upon this was rudely carved the following: “a brave man, the victim of an assassin, j. b. hickok (wild bill), aged years ;* murdered by jack mccall, august , ." the funeral ceremonies having been completed, those who had assisted in the last services went directly to the theater building where the trial of mccall was still in progress. after hearing the verdict read and seeing the murderer liberated, california joe, an old friend of bill's, who chanced to be in deadwood when the assas- sination occurred, stepped up to mccall and said: *at the time of his death wild bill's age was years, months and days. litl of wild bill. “look a here, young chap, these here regions haint very healthy for you jist now; so you'd better lose no time in clearing outen these diggins, er yer skin won't hold water no morn'n a camp sieve inside o' twenty-four hours.” at night several of the murdered man's friends held a secret meeting, at which it was decided to lynch mccall, but their plans were frustrated by the assassin having taken california joe's warning, as he found the climate suddenly very oppressive and injurious. the following beautiful poem was written ky capt. jack crawford, the poet scout, one of wild bill's most intimate comrades, a sketch of whose life will be found in the latter part of this work. it was dedicated to col- orado charley and commented on by the press generally as one of the finest specimens of western poetic senti- ment ever published: burial of wild bill. [written for the n. y. clipper.] under the sod in the prairie land we have laid him down to rest, with many a tear from the sad, rough throng, and the friends he loved the best; and many a heartfelt sigh was heard as over the sward we trod, and many an eye was filled with tears as we covered him with the sod. under the sod in the prairie land we have laid the good and true- an honest heart and a noble scout has bade us a last adieu. no more his silvery voice will ring, his spirit has gone to god; around his faults let charity cling, while we cover him with the sod. heroes of the plaini. under the sod in the land of gold we have laid the fearless bill; we called him wild, yet a little child could bend his iron will. with generous heart he freely gave to the poorly clad, unshod- think of it, pards--of his noble traits while you cover him with the sod. under the sod in deadwood gulch you have laid his last remains; no more his manly form will hail the red man on the plains. and, charley, may heaven bless you ! you gave him a “bully good send ;" bill was a friend to you, pard, and you were his last, best friend. you buried him 'neath the old pine treo, in that little world of ours, his trusty rifle by his side- his grave all strewn with flowers ; his manly form in sweet repose, that lovely silken hair- i tell you, pard, it was a sight, that face so white and fair ! and while he sleeps beneath the sod his murderer goes free, released by a perjured, gaming set who'd murder you and me- whose coward hearts dare never meet a brave man on the square. well, pard, they'll find a warmer clime than they ever found out there. life of wild bill. hell is full of just such men; and if bill is above to-day, the almighty will have enough to do to keep him from going away- that is, from making a little scout to the murderer's home below; and if old peter will let him out, he can clean out the ranche, i know. chapter xix. jack mccall left deadwood on the day following his acquittal and went direct to custer city. within a short time after his appearance in that town, unable to restrain his braggadocio inclination, he told certain per- sons how he had killed wild bill, and boasted of the deed as a most commendable act. he was at once ar- rested by a deputy u. s. marshal, and at a preliminary hearing, judge blair decided to hold the prisoner and send him to yankton for trial. c. w. bramel appeared for the defendant in the first hearing, and attorney- general jenkins prosecuted. mccall was taken to yankton, without delay, by marshal balcombe, and there held until the u. s. district court sat in january following, when the prisoner was put upon trial. the witnesses for the prosecution nearly all appeared without special summons, as they were anxious to see a tardy justice done at last. the trial continued but little more than one day, and as the testimony was a repetition of that elicited by the impromptu court at deadwood, a verdict of guilty was returned almost without deliberation, and the justice, heroes of the plains. after a few days, passed sentence of death upon mccall, the time of his execution being fixed for march st, . notwithstanding the deep-dyed villainy, of wild bill's murderer, he still had some friends who exerted all the influence they could command to save him from the fate he so richly deserved. petitions for respite and com- mutation of sentence were freely circulated, which, ob- taining some signatures, were forwarded to the president, hoping to secure the executive's interference; but they all failed, when the time for the execution arrived yankton presented a very animated appearance, as people came from many miles around to witness the first official hanging in dakota territory. father doxacher, a catholic priest, visited the fated prisoner and administered spiritual nerve to fortify him for the scene about to be enacted. a scaffold having been erected on the open prairie about two miles north of yankton, at nine o'clock on the morning of march st, the prisoner, priest and guards entered a closed carriage and drove to the place of execution. no time was wasted in preliminaries, as everything had been completed be- forehand. mccall, getting out of the carriage, ascended the steps of the scaffold in company with the priest, and from the platform surveyed for a moment the upturned faces of the multitude before him, but uttered never a word. the priest, shrouded in robes of white, knelt with the prisoner on the scaffold and repeated the death litany while mccall engaged in earnest prayer, kissing the uplifted crucifix as he arose. at twenty minutes past ten o'clock the black cap was adjusted over the head of the condemned man and as the marshal was fixing the noose about his neck, mccall re- quested him to “ draw it tight, and make no mistake.” life of wild bill. the next moment the trap was sprung and as the body shot downward mccall was heard to exclaim, “my god !” which were his last words. throughout all this most dreadful experience mccall never exhibited the least trepidation, dying with that stolid indifference which he manifested when addressing the jury that tried him in the deadwood court. tu execution of jack mccall. on the evening following the execution of mccall, u. s. marshal burdick received the following letter: louisville, ky., february th, . to the marshal of yankton. dear sir :-i saw in the morning papers a piece about the sentence of the murderer of wild bill, jack mccall. there was a young man of the name of john mccall left here about six years ago, who has not been heard from for the last three years. he has a father, mother and three sisters living here in louisville, who are very un- easy about him since they heard about the murder of wild bill. if you can send us any information about him we would be very thankful to you. heroes of the plains. this john mccall is about twenty-five years old; has light hair, inclined to curl, and one eye crossed. i can- not say about his height as he was not grown when he left here. please write as soon as convenient, as we are very anxious to hear from you. very respectfully, mary a. mccall. this letter was from the sister of the man who had just paid the penalty of his crime, and with what feel- ings of sadness she received the marshal's reply can well he imagined. one version of the origin of the difficulty which cul- minated in the assassination of wild bill has been given so repeatedly by correspondents that, as it requires but a few words to relate, it is here repeated. jack mccall, who was generally regarded as a gamb- ling sharp by the people of deadwood, challenged bill to a game of poker. as the latter was particularly fond of this sport an immediate acceptance was the result. the game lasted for some hours, to bill's great advan- tage, until mccall's money having become exhausted he overbet his hand. bill in calling the bet discovered that mccall had only $ . to make good his bet of $ . he mildly remonstrated with him by saying: “you don't want to overbet your money ; that's no way to play poker.” mccall then admitted that he had not an- other cent, whereupon bill gave him $ . with which to pay his lodging and breakfast, and thus the two separa- ted without a word indicative of harsh feelings. this version is generally accepted as furnishing the sole rea- son for the murder. with regard to the killing of mccall's brother by wild bill in hays city, as was claimed by mccall, the story is evidently without foundation. all the serious difficulties bill had while at hays city, or elsewhere, life of wild bİlİ. have been faithfully recorded in the preceding pages, and unless jack strawhan was mccall's brother there cannot be even the remotest suspicion that the assassination was prompted by the motives claimed. in addition to this, mccall never made any attempt to prove that his brother had been killed by wild bill, nor does the letter of mary a. mccall, the sister, intimate any reason for her brother's deed, as she certainly would have done had her brother fallen a victim to wild bill's vengeance. chapter xx. deadwood improved so rapidly during the latter years of the seventies that it became necessary to remove the bodies which lay in the first grave-yard. building after building had sprung up on the hill sides; the primitive forest fell before the axe of progress, and all natural beauties which originally surrounded wild bill's grave were torn away to give place for improvements. on the third day of august, , charley utter and louis shoenfield, old friends of bill's, keeping ever green the memory of their departed comrade, having decided to give their precious dead a more fitting resting place, repaired to the grave and with heads uncovered, exhumed the remains of wild bill. upon removing the coffin lid, assembled friends of the deceased were sur- prised to note the few changes that had taken place in the features. save a very slightly discernible shrinkage of the jaws and eyes and a darker color of the skin, wild bill lay resting, after his three years' sleep, just as he was laid away. the same smile lingered on his lips, lighting up a countenance of such perfect repose that the heroes of the plains. sleeper seemed moved by some pleasant dream. his rifle still lay beside him in thorough preservation, not even a speck of rust being perceptible on the polished barrel. upon lifting the remains from the grave, an extra- ordinary weight was detected, which was unexplainable until, in clipping off a lock of hair, charley utter's hand came in contact with the face of his dead friend, when a singular hardness of the flesh was felt. a closer ex- amination then revealed the fact that, though the body retained a natural appearance, yet it was in process of petrifaction. at the time of death wild bill's weight was about one hundred and seventy-five pounds, but at the exhumation the body weighed nearly three hundred pounds. after the remains were exposed for several hours to the gaze of numerous friends, they were conveyed to mount moriah cemetery, where a lot and grave had been prepared by charley utter, and there given a second burial. a handsome italian head-stone was also erected at the head of the grave by mr. utter, upon which the following inscription was engraved : wild bill (j. b. hickok), killed by the assassin, jack mccall, in deadwood, august d, . pard, we will meet again in the happy hunting grounds, to part no more. good-bye. colorado charley. here let the brave heart rest in the solitude of fron- tier sepulcher; rest from the strife with which his life was so familiar; rest from the labors of a sturdy pio- neer. the highway which he blazed by indomitable bravery and consecrated with the most sacred sacrifice he could give, is still followed by the advancing hosts of an expanding empire, dispelling primeval sounds and touch- а life of wild bill. ing the virgin forests with the magic wand of a perfect civilization. the birds which carol their morning and evening concerts over his grave are drifting westward and will soon be seen no more, while in their stead will be heard the whir and hum of a busy life. the rough sounds and strife of a border settlement will give place to the sweet home melodies of cultured maidens, and coming generation, like repeating waves which wash out the footsteps from the beach, will destroy the landmarks wild bill) j.b.hickock jack me call deadwoodstola more isove wear wios odlorado charlic chutitp wild bill's grave. of the early settlers and point to wild bill's grave as the spot where sleeps a hero-pioneer; whose heart in life was gentle as a child's prayer, and yet brave as god could make it. an appreciation of the services which this noble scout rendered the builders of a western em- pire belongs to those of unborn generations. is appreciated until he is dead.” the following poom, another tribute of friendship . no man >> heroÉs of the plains: from captain jack crawford, who delights in embower- ing the memory of his dead comrade with the most fra- grant of poetic garlands, will appropriately conclude this history of wild bill's death and burial : wild bill's grave. [written for the virginia evening chronicle, august , .] by his pard, captain jack. on the side of the hill between whitewood and deadwood, at the foot of a pine stump, there lies a lone grave, environed with rocks, and with pine trees and redwood, where the wild roses bloom over the breast of the brave. a mantle of brushwood the greensward encloses ; the green boughs are waving far up overhead; while under the sod and the flow'rets reposes the brave and the dead. did i know him in life? yes, as brother knows brother; i knew him and loved him-'twas all i could give, my love. but the fact is we loved one another, and either would die that the other might live. rough in his ways? yes, but kind and good-hearted; there wasn't a flaw in the heart of wild bill, and well i remember the day that he started that graveyard on top of the hill. a good scout? i reckon there wasn't his equal, both fremont and custer could vouch for that fact. quick as chain-lightning with rifle or pistol- and custer said, “ bill never backed !" he called me his “kid”-buffalo bill was his “boy"- and in fact he knew more than us both : and, though we have shared both in sorrow and joy, nary an oath. and now let me show you the good that was in him- the letters he wrote to his agnes—his wife. why, a look or a smile, one kind word could win him, hear part of this letter-the last of this life: lite of wild bill. "agnes darling: if such should be that we never meet again, while firing my last shot i will gently breathe the name of my wife-my agnes-and with a kind wish even for my enemies, i will make the plunge and try to swim to the other shore." oh, charity! come fling your mantle about him, judge him not harshly-he sleeps 'neath the sod; custer, brave custer! was lonely without him, even with god. charge, comrades, charge! see young custer ahead his charger leaps forth, almost flying. one volley! and half his comrades are dead- the other half fighting and dying! let us hope while their dust is reposing beneath the dirge-singing pines in the mountains, that christ bas crowned each with an evergreen wreath and giv’n them to drink from his fountains, in the foregoing chapters the writer has described, as he believes, every important adventure in wild bill's life; the commonplace incidents, however, have been omitted, such as inconsequential personal difficulties ; long and tedious journeys; his career as a pony-express rider; overland trips to salt lake, and such other events as happen to nearly all men engaged in frontier service. his life was so full of daring acts that to record the or- dinary incidents with the extraordinary adventures in which he participated would destroy the interest and im- pression the writer has sought to produce in this humble effort. but before concluding this biography of the greatest scout and fighter, perhaps, of whose life history furnishes any authentic record, it is important to briefly describe wild bill in his social relations, removed from the influ- ences which called for an exercise of his recklessly brave spirit. socially, among those of cultivated taste and refine- heroes of the plains. ment, wild bill was very agreeable company, laying aside at once every uncouth habit and showing the in- nate gentlemanly qualities of which he was possessed. he had but few intimate friends, the most prominent of whom were w. f. cody (buffalo bill), and capt. jack crawford, whose lives ran in the same channels as his own; and dr. joshua thorne and capt. e. w. kings- bury, both of kansas city, among the limited number of his associates in the more peaceful walks of life. dr. thorne was bill's physician for many years and to him he confided his most sacred secrets ; kingsbury was a captain in the second u. s. cavalry during the time that bill was acting as guide for the regiment through the indian campaigns, and it was in this service that they be- came very intimate. wild bill acted the part of an elder brother to buffalo bill and the two were so warmly attached that an insult would have been resented much more promptly by one when directed against the other than if pressed upon himself. their relations were those of devoted comradeship and each was gladdened by praise bestowed upon the other. at times harsh words might pass between them, but each would submit to any language offered by the other without thinking of retali- ation, while the slightest rebuke from anyone else would be sure to precipitate a row. wild bill had no well defined religious belief, though his convictions, judging from assertions he had been heard to make to his best friends, were those of a spir- itualist. to dr. thorne he asserted that, when sur- rounded by imminent dangers, he was influenced by spiritual agencies who kept him cool while they discon- certed his enemies. it was to this influence he ascribed his presence of mind on the most trying occasions. another very singular characteristic bill possessed was lite of wild bill. that of excessive grief following all his fatal encounters. while never directly evading a fight, he always gave way to great sorrow for its consequences. nearly all his victims were given proper burial at his expense, and bill was the chief mourner at all the funerals when he had furnished the corpse. after his great fight at rock creek he learned that jim mccandlas had left a widow with several children in destitute circumstances. from that time until mrs. mccandlas' death he contributed to her support, sending remittances of money whenever he was in condition to do so. dr. thorne informed the writer that he had removed eleven bullets from the body of wild bill, nearly all of which were shot into him at the rock creek fight, but that during all of the painful operations bill gave ex- pression to none other than sympathetic words for the ferocious enemies he had slain in that memorable en- counter. though living the life of a bachelor within a few months of his death, bill was nevertheless excessively fond of children, and so great was his influence among the smallest infants that he could pacify the most peevish ones better than a mother. america has given birth to many a skillful marksman, but there can be no question that wild bill was the most expert pistol shot that this or any other country ever produced. to him this accomplishment was a gift of nature, which he greatly improved by years of persistent practice. nearly all the leading magazines and news- papers have published elaborate articles descriptive of his marvelous accuracy and skill in the use of a pistol, but it is not inappropriate in this connection to recall some of the excellencies of his pistol practice. on one occasion, during his residence in kansas city, heroes of the plains. he gave dr. thorne examples of his wonderful shooting. it was on a sultry sabbath afternoon, when the two were sitting out in the side yard connected with the doctor's residence engaged in desultory conversation. a flock of chickens were strolling about the place, among the num- ber being a large rooster whose propensity was for chas- ing every other gallinaceous male off the place. dr. thorne having informed bill of the troublesome qualities of the fowl, expressed a wish that, as it was too old to eat, some one would kill it out of compassion for the other male chanticleers. thereupon wild bill remarked : “i'll bet you five dollars, doctor, that i can cut the rooster's throat with my derringer, at thirty paces, with- out breaking his neck or touching the head or body.” “ you can't do it,” responded the doctor, “ and i'll take the bet.” the chicken was chased to the required distance, and while it was still walking bill raised his pistol and fired, without even bringing the weapon to his eye. the rooster ran a short distance and then drop- ped and fluttered about until it died. upon examina- tion it was found that the chicken's throat and windpipe had been cut with the same cleverness as if a knife had been used, while its neck was evidently not touched. this shot, surely as perfect as could be made, so as- tonished the doctor that he claimed it was an accident. bill then, to convince him that it was not, fired several times from the two cartridge derringers he carried, first at small objects and then at sparrows in the trees; each shot went directly to the mark, not a single miss being made. the doctor was satisfied. among the great number of fancy shots bill was accus tomed to make in amusing his friends, was one driving the cork through the neck of a bottle and knocking the bottom out without breaking the neck. this shot was also performed at a distance of thirty paces, life of wild bill. for a lucrative pastime, at which he won no incon- siderable amount of money, bill would get up a shooting match and then take bets of from one to ten dollars that he could shoot a hole through a silver dime at a distance of fifty paces. this seemed so utterly impossible that there was but little difficulty in getting a number of such bets, until he demonstrated his ability to perform the act nine times out of ten. of course, at such a distance, it is almost impossible to see so small an object as a silver dime, but this difficulty was readily overcome by placing the money in such a position that the sun's rays would be gathered on its surface, thus presenting a brilliant spot for a target. in rifle shooting bill was also an adept, but at short spaces he was much more dextrous with the pistol. in using the former weapon he took deliberate aim, while with the later he fired at seeming random, the bullet, apparently, going straight to the mark of its own voli- tion. in the early part of , during his service as a scout under gen. daviess, as has already been related in chap- ter v, wild bill came into possession of a beautiful young mare to which he gave the name black nell." this animal was a filly with a pedigree which it is to be regretted bill never learned, as she was captured in a fight with three bushwhackers, but her exquisite beauty fur- nished a true index of her lofty descent. she was black as a raven and full of spirit; her neck arched with the grace of a rainbow; her eye was soft and clear as å vir- gin's, and her limbs were as symmetrical as those of the trinity of graces. during all his leisure, bill gave at- tention to the care and training of this apimal until at length she became the wonder of all who witnessed the performances through which he so frequently put her, >> heroes of the plains. he first trained the mare to obey his commands given by whistles; to everyone except bill she appeared fierce and unmanageable, but to him she was the very soul of sa- gacity and docility. whether grazing, feeding at the trough, or lying down, bill had only to blow a single whistle and she would come running to him with the eagerness of a dog anxious to greet his master. a snap of his fingers would send her galloping away, but the whistle would always cause her immediate return. another trick bill taught his beautiful mare afterward proved the means of saving his life. riding her at the swiftest speed he had only to drop his hand so that the mare could see the act, and instantly she would stop and prostrate herself on the ground, remaining in that po- sition until she was bidden to rise again. on the occa- sion referred to, where this trick saved his life, bill was riding through the northern part of greene county, mo., on a scouting tour. while passing through the tall prai- rie grass he was pursued by a body of bushwhackers. after fleeing before them for several miles he crossed a low piece of ground which temporarily hid him from the sight of his enemies. in this place bill made a turn and moving his hand before black nell she instantly dropped down and remained perfectly quiet while the pursuing party rode by within fifty yards without discovering him. during a visit of wild bill to springfield, mo., in , meeting with many old friends, he became decid- edly convivial under the influences usually indulged in that town. he had his famous mare with him, and after explaining her good qualities and sense, offered to wager treats for the crowd that he could make black nell leap onto a billiard table and from that perch drink a quart of whisky. some one accepted the bet, chiefly because they desired to see the act performed. bill at once removed life of wild bill, the bridle and saddle from nell, and going into a saloon which contained an old billiard table, told the mare to follow him. nell, obedient as a poodle, walked so closely behind her master that her nose rested on his shoulder. approaching the billiard table, he bade the mare mount. nell at once reared up and deposited her forelegs on the table, but it was only after a long and persistent effort that she could raise her hind feet so high ; in fact the strain came near disabling her for life; but she accom- plished the feat, and then drank the whisky with as much relish as her master ever exhibited. this wonderful mare, famous among the most cel- ebrated horses of america, died near kansas city in . wild bill manifested the most poignant grief at the loss of his sagacious friend and buried her with ap- propriate funeral ceremonies, and afterward made many pilgrimages to her grave. having now discharged my duties as biographer of wild bill, and given to him the character of a brave, honest and true man, worthy a position in the annals of american frontier history, lest the reader should ascribe to me undue admiration for the man whom i have sought to justly heroize, i will close this history with two published opinions of men capable of judging his true character. the first, as here given, is from a writer in scribner's magazine for october, : i had been in town only a few moments when i met charley utter, better known in the west as • colorado charley,' to whom i had a letter of introduc- tion, and who at once invited me to share his camp while i remained in the region. heroes of the plains. “on our way to his tent, we met j. b. hickok, wild bill,' the hero of a hundred battles. bill was utter's ‘pardner,' and i was introduced at once. of course i had heard of him, the greatest scout in the west, but i was not prepared to find such a man as he proved to be. “ most of the western scouts do not amount to much. they do a great deal in the personal reminiscence way, but otherwise they are generally of the class described as • frauds.' in wild bill i found a man who talked little and had done a great deal. he was about six feet two inches in height, and very powerfully built ; his face was intelligent; his hair blonde, and falling in long ring- lets upon his broad shoulders ; his eyes, blue and pleas- ant, looked one straight in the face when he talked ; and his lips, thin and compressed, were only partly hidden by a straw-colored moustache. his costume was a cu- riously blended union of the habiliments of the border- man and the drapery of the fashionable dandy. beneath the skirts of his elaborately embroidered buckskin coat gleamed the handles of two silver-mounted revolvers, which were his constant companions. his voice was low and musical, but through its hesitation i could catch a ring of self-reliance and consciousness of strength. yet he was the most courteous man i had met on the plains. on the following day i asked to see him use a pistol, and he assented. at his request i tossed a tomato can about fifteen feet into the air, both his pistols being in his belt when it left my hand. he drew one of them and fired two bullets through the tin can before it struck the ground. then he followed it along, firing as he went, until both weapons were empty. you have heard the expression • quick as lightning. well, that will describe wild bill. he was noted all over the country for rapid- ity of motion, courage and certainty of aim. wherever life of wild bill. he went he controlled the people around him, and many a quarrel has been settled by his simple announcement, • this has gone far enough. early in the forenoon of my third day in deadwood word was brought over to camp that he had been killed.” the following is extracted from gen. g. a. custer's "life on the plains. wild bill was for a long time engaged as scout for gen. custer, accompanying him in several important campaigns against the indians, and was repeatedly specially mentioned in the army reports for gallantry: among the white scouts were numbered some of the most noted of their class. the most prominent man among them was wild bill, whose highly varied career was made the subject of an illustrated sketch in one of the popular monthly periodicals a few years ago. wild bill was a strange character, just the one which a novelist might gloat over. he was a plainsman in every sense of the word, yet unlike any other of his class. in person he was about six feet one in height, straight as the straightest of the warriors whose implacable foe he was; broad shoulders, well-formed chest and limbs, and a face strikingly handsome; a sharp, clear, blue eye, which stared you straight in the face when in conversation ; a finely-shaped nose, inclined to be aquiline ; a well-turned mouth, with lips only partially concealed by a handsome moustache. his hair and complexion were those of a perfect blonde. the former was worn in uncut ringlets falling carelessly over his powerfully formed shoulders. add to this figure a costume blending the immaculate neatness of the dandy with the extravagant taste and style of the frontiersman, and you have wild bill, then as now the most famous scout on the plains. - whether on foot or on horseback, he was one of the heroes of the plains. most perfect types of physical manhood i ever saw. of his courage their could be no question ; it had been brought to the test on too many occasions to admit of a doubt. his skill in the use of the rifle and pistol was unerring ; while his deportment was exactly the opposite of what might be expected from a man of his surround- ings. it was entirely free from all bluster or bravado. he never spoke of himself unless requested to do so. his conversation, strange to say, never bordered either on the vulgar or blasphemous. his influence among the frontiersmen was unbounded, his word was law; and many are the personal quarrels and disturbances which he has checked among his comrades by his simple announce- ment that this has gone far enough,' if need be fol- lowed by the ominous warning that when persisted in or renewed the quarreler “must settle it with me.' wild bill is anything but a quarrelsome man; yet no one but himself can enumerate the many conflicts in which he has been engaged, and which have almost invariably re- sulted in the death of his adversary. i have a personal knowledge of at least half a dozen men whom he has at various times killed, one of these being at the time a member of my command. others have been severely wounded, yet he always escaped unhurt. on the plains every man openly carries his belt with its invariable ap- pendages, knife and revolver, often two of the latter. wild bill always carried two handsome ivory-handled re- volvers of the large size; he was never seen without them. where this is the common custom, brawls or per- sonal difficulties are seldom if ever settled by blows. the quarrel is not from a word to a blow, but from a word to the revolver, and he who can draw and fire first is the best man. no civil law reaches him ; none is applied for. in fact there is no law recognized beyond the frontier life of wild bill. but that of "might makes right.' should death result from the quarrel, as it usually does, no coroner's jury is impanneled to learn the cause of death, and the survivor is not arrested. but instead of these old-fashioned pro- ceedings, a meeting of citizens takes place, the survivor is requested to be present when the circumstances of the homicide are inquired into, and the unfailing verdict of • justifiable,' self-defence,' etc., is pronounced, and the law stands vindicated. that justice is often deprived of a victim there is not a doubt. yet in all of the many af- fairs of this kind in which wild bill has performed a part, and which have come to my knowledge, there is not a single instance in which the verdict of twelve fair- minded men would not be pronounced in his favor. “ that the even tenor of his way continues to be dis- turbed by little events of this description may be inferred from an item which has been floating lately through the columns of the press, and which states that the funeral of “ jim bludso," who was killed the other day by wild bill, took place to-day. it then adds: the funeral expenses were borne by wild bill! what could be more thoughtful than this ? not only to send a fellow mortal out of the wo: id, but to pay the expenses of the transit!” "ivot gen. forsythe and his beleaguered scouts. (see page .) modeswecandal hon. wm. f. cody, (buffalo bill.) life of buffalo bill. (hon. william f. cody.) relating the adventures and incidents in the ca- reer of the most famous of living plainsmen. comprising descriptions of his desperate encoun- ters, narrow escapes, indian battles, wonder- ful rides, great hunts, and conquests on and off the mimic stage. chapter i. the peculiarities of american civilization are seen to great advantage in the anomalous character of hon. william frederick cody, known throughout the eng- lish speaking world as buffalo bill. he is the very- embodiment of diversity, and a representative type of the antipodal phases of society; on the plains and in camp he becomes the essence of pioneer hardihood, inured to privation, and the exponent of song and story; while in the salons of the aristocracy he is none the less a kid-gloved society gallant, versed in all the subtle- ties of polished etiquette, full of vivacity and courtly witticisms. in short, there is no nature so readily con- formable to all the ways of life as his, and under all cir- cumstances there is always a sparkling effervescence of spirit about him which can only find comparison in a newly opened bottle of extra-dry champagne. these un- exampled traits of character will be distinctly evidenced in the following history of his singular life and adventures. heroes of the plains. buffalo bill was born in a pioneer settlement of scott county, iowa, on the th day of february, . his father, whose name was isaac, was one of the original surveyors of davenport, and a man of strong individu- ality, possessing considerable ability and the elements of leadership. opportunities, however, being few, mr. cody had to adapt himself to the pursuits offered, and for two or three years he drove a stage coach between chicago and davenport. in mr. cody was influenced by the wonderful stories regarding the gold discoveries in california to make provisions for the great overland journey, but after starting, others who were to accompany him, abandoned the enterprise and persuaded him to follow their exam- ple. during his residence in iowa he held the posi- tion of justice of the peace, and also served one term in the legislature, but having a disposition for adventure and delighting in pioneer life, he removed to kansas in , settling his family at weston, missouri, on the farm of his brother elijah, and then established a trad- ing post in the northern part of leavenworth county, kansas, at salt creek valley, near the kickapoo agency. at this time kansas was occupied by numerous tribes of indians, who were settled on reservations, and through the territory ran the great highway to california and salt lake city. in addition to the thousands of gold seekers who were passing through kansas by way of ft. leavenworth, there were as many more mormons in their hegira from illinois to found a new temple in which to propagate their doctrines. this extensive travel made the business of trade on the route a most profitable one. but with the caravans were those fractious elements of adventurous pioneering, and here little billy, as buffalo bill was then called, first saw the typical westerner; life of buffalo bill. with white sombrero, buckskin clothes, long hair, moccasined feet and a belt full of murderous bowies and long pistols. but instead of these outre peculiarities im- pressing billy with feelings of trepidation, they inspired him with an ambition to become a daring plainsman. the rare and skillful feats of horsemanship which he daily witnessed bred in him a desire to excel the most expert; and when, at seven years of age, his father gave him a pony, the full measure of his happiness had ripen- ed, like jonah's gourd, in a night. thenceforth his oc- cupation was horseback riding, in which pleasurable em- ployment he made himself very useful in performing necessary journeys in his father's interest. living so near the kickapoo indians, billy soon became well acquainted with them, and as they were very friend- ly, he, with boyish curiosity, became a constant com- panion of some young bucks of the tribe ; in this associ- ation he participated in their sports and learned to shoot with bow and arrow, throw the lance, and converse in their native tongue—all of which accomplishments be- came very useful to him in after life. in anticipation of the early passage of what was known as the “ enabling act of kansas territory," which was then pending before congress, mr. cody, in the fall of , took his family from the farm of his brother and settled them at the post in kansas, where he at once set about erecting suitable log buildings. in the succeeding winter the act was passed, which opened up the territory for settlement, and mr. cody immediately pre-empted the claim on which he was living. every reader of american history is familiar with the disorders which followed close upon the heels of the “ enabling act.” pending its passage the western boundary of missouri was ablaze with the camp fires of heroes of the plains. intending settlers. thousands of families were sheltered under the canvas of their ox wagons, impatiently await- ing the signal from the nation announcing the opening of the territorial doors to the brawny immigrants, and when the news was heralded the waiting host poured over the boundary line and fairly deluged the new public domain. in this rapid settlement of the territory a most per- plexing question arose, which was contested with such virulence that a warfare was inaugurated which became a stain upon the nation's escutcheon, and was not abated until the missouri and kansas borders became drunk with blood. nearly all those who came from missouri were intent upon extending slavery into the new territory, whilst those who emigrated from illinois, iowa and in- diana and sought homes in the new domain were equally determined that the cursed hydra head of slavery should never be reared in their midst. over this question the border warfare began, and its fierceness can only find comparison in the inquisitoral persecutions of the fif- teenth century. men were shot down in their homes, around their firesides, in the furrows behind the plow,- everywhere. widows and orphans multiplied, the arm of industry was palsied, while the incendiary torch lit up the prairie heavens, feeding on blighted homes and trailing along in the path of granaries and store-houses. mobs of murder-loving men, drunk with fury, and with hearts set on desolation, day and night descended upon un- guarded households, and tearing away husbands and broth- ers from the loving arms of wives and sisters, left their bodies dangling from the shade trees of their unhappy homes, or shot them down where their blood might sear the eyes of helpless, agonized relatives. anguish sat on every threshold, pity had no abiding-place, and for four lite of buffalo bill. years the besom of destruction, with all its pestilential influences, blighted the prairie and rendered every heart on the border sad and despondent. in this war of vengeance the cody family did not escape a full measure of affliction. near mr. cody's trading post was another store, kept by a missourian named rively, around which a considerable settlement had been made, which became the rendezvous of many different elements, and particularly of pro-slavery men, who enjoyed rively's sympathies. in the summer of , and within a few months after the “ enabling act” was passed, a very large meeting was held at the popular rendezvous, and mr. cody being present was pressed to address the crowd on the slavery question, he being regarded as favorably disposed to making kansas a slave territory, owing to the fact that his brother, elijah, was a missourian. in the course of his remarks he frankly admitted that his views were opposed to those of his audience, but nevertheless expressed his opinions in a most conservative manner, in order that no offence might be given. notwithstanding the guarded manner of his speech, the crowd became very angry and man- ifested their feelings by calling him a “black abolition- ist,” and ordering him to “get down off the box.” in trying to assuage their anger he only aggravated them the more, and before he fully comprehended the danger of his position a rough desperado, who had been employed as a farm hand by elijah cody, leaped onto the box with a drawn bowie knife and stabbed the speaker twice in the breast. the wounded man fell off the box and was carried to mr. rively's house, from whence he was con- veyed in a carriage to the residence of his brother, where his wounds were dressed, which, though not directly fatal, were indirectly the cause of his death a short time after. heroes of the plains. the unfortunate speech of mr. cody at rively's store proved to be only the beginning of misfortunes to the family. being the first man whose blood was shed in opposition to the extension of slavery in kansas, the border missourians marked him as an object for their special hatred. stabbing of buffalo bill's father. it was several weeks after receiving his wound before mr. cody was able to leave his bed, and when he returned to his trading post he received notice to quit the territory immediately or abide the consequences which an enraged mob threatened. disregarding these warnings, his house was surrounded by a body of armed mounted men on a dark night shortly after, whose purpose it was to sum- marily hang him, and after consummating this foul deed life of buffalo bill. burn the house that sheltered his large family. fortu- nately the plan was discovered, and to effect an escape he had recourse to the following stratagem: the night being very dark, mr. cody quietly arose and clothed himself in his wife's dress and bonnet, in which very effective disguise he easily passed between the horsemen and gained an adjoining cornfield, where he concealed himself. the mob dismounted, and after inquiry and a critical search of the premises, discovered that mr. cody was absent-a fact that the would-be murderers were at a loss to understand. but that their visit might not be wholly without some villainy, the mob robbed the premises of everything they could find possessing any value, and then drove off all the horses in the pasture and stables. mr. cody, after keeping concealed for three days, suc- ceeded in reaching ft. leavenworth, near which place soon afterward he joined a party of free state men under jim lane, and was a participant in the fight at hickory point, where the free state men gained a de- cided victory, but not without considerable loss. after serving with lane in one campaign, mr. cody returned to his family clandestinely, and acquainting them with his purpose went to grasshopper falls, where he at once began the erection of a saw-mill. the pro- slavery men were still determined to kill him, and upon learning of his settlement at the falls, immediately re- solved themselves again into a body of intentional mur- derers. by a lucky chance, one of the hired men on mr. cody's homestead overheard the threats of the mob and lost no time in conveying his information to mrs. cody. with true wifely devotion, she considered only the safety of her husband. billy, her oldest boy, now nine years of age, was her reliance, and to him, with trembling heart, she quickly said: heroes of the plains. billy, my dear boy, hitch up prince (the pony) ira- mediately, and ride with all your might to your father ; the mob have again organized to murder him, and you must reach him before they do, to warn him of his danger.” there were great big tears in her eyes when she gave this injunction; a husband's safety was in the balance on one side and the life of her little boy on the other; it was the hour for sacrifice, and brave little billy, filled with resolution, threw fear under his pony's feet and a moment after was dashing away toward grasshopper falls. seven miles from the post he suddenly ap- proached a body of armed men, by whom he was immed ately recognized and commanded to halt. the boy, so young in years, comprehended the situation and instead of obeying the order, only quickened the pace of his pony, making a detour on the prairie, hotly pursued by the mob; but he was riding to save the life of a loving father, and could not afford to be captured. after a chase of a few miles the mob drew rein and permitted the boy to ride so far ahead of them that when they reached grasshopper falls mr. cody and his brave boy were enroute for lawrence to join jim lane again. at this time lawrence was the territorial capital and the famous lecompton legislature was being organized, of which body mr. cody was chosen a member. after the first session of the legislature he was called to ohio in the interest of the free state advocates, where he remained during a period of several months. after the departure of his father billy, with three com- panions, returned to grasshopper falls; but while en- route they were ambushed by a party of renegades and one of his companions killed, while billy himself escaped only through good luck and a fleet horşe. life of buffalo bill. upon meeting his mother, whom he had not seen since leaving home to warn his father of the mob's intentions, he handed her a letter from mr. cody, which fully relieved her mind from the dreadful anxiety she had so long suf- fered ; overcome with joy, she fell upon the neck of her brave boy and could only manifest her thankfulness with bounteous tears. during mr. cody's absence his family was subjected almost daily to some outrage ; gangs of cut-throats were almost constantly hovering about the premises trying to surprise mr. cody and kill him, or steal his stock and provisions. but amid all this threatening condition of affairs, and despite the persuasions of elijah cody, who offered her a home with his family in missouri, mrs. cody was determined to remain at the home place and en- dure whatever persecutions the pro-slavery men could in- flict. she was a woman of unusual bravery, well suited for a pioneer's wife, and yet a lady well educated and used to the refinements of the most cultured society. after mr. cody's return from ohio he served his term in the lecompton legislature and then resumed his la- bors at grasshopper falls. but the wound he received at the meeting near rively's store had never healed and continued to give him so much trouble that he was forced to his bed again. while lying in this helpless condition one of the neighbors, a violent pro-slavery man of the lowest and most despicable proclivities, stole billy's fa- vorite little pony, prince, and a few days afterward he again visited the unfortunate family expressing a deter- mination to kill mr. cody, who was confined to his bed in the upper story of the house. the murderous wretch, however, was in such a maudlin condition from the deep potations in which he had indulged, that after ordering mrs. cody and her daughters to get him some dinner, he heroes of the plains. forgot the purpose of his visit and rode off again. it was fortunate for him that he made no attempt on the life of mr. cody, as billy had overheard his threats, and with heroic resolve had taken a station at the head of the stairs, with pistol in hand, determined to shoot the in- truder the moment his head appeared above the second story floor. in the spring of an attempt was made by the old mob to blow up the cody residence, to accomplish which purpose two kegs of powder were secretly deposited in the cellar, with a long fuse attached, but the villains were foiled by the bravery of mrs. cody and her heroic little boy, who managed to bluff the crowd that came to the house to light the fuse, by declaring that the house was full of armed men who would fire on the intruders if they did not immediately abandon the premises. it was this life of constant peril that buffalo bill led through the years of his youth, which was almost liter- ally a baptism of blood and persecution ; from the boc- cario he developed into the cavallard driver, and from this latter occupation he speedily became a recognized leader in the most thrilling adventures. chapter ii. in the summer of , when ten years of age, billy became a herder-or cow-boy-for mr. russell, to ac- cept which position he ran away from home, returning again at the expiration of two months with the sum of fifty dollars, all in new silver coins, which he gave to his mother who needed his assistance now, since mr. cody life of buffalo bill. was still suffering from his wound and unable to con- tinue his labors. the settlement about the kickapoo agency having in- creased rapidly, in a log school house was built and an excellent teacher employed, by subscription, to give instruction to the youth of that immediate section. al- though this was the first regular school in the district, billy had been under the instruction of a miss lyons, who was engaged by mr. cody to come to his house and teach the children, of whom there were seven, five girls and two boys, so that he was considerably advanced, for a pioneer boy, when he was enrolled as a pupil of one of the first schools started in the territory. for some time billy made excellent progress; was esteemed a model scholar and in every respect won the favor of teacher and fellow pupils. but his troubles began right where he expected to find happiness, thus, for once, following the usual plot of love stories. mary hyatt, a flaxen-haired, pretty little miss, with roguish smile and cunning eyes, was also a pupil in the log school-house and sat on a seat so near billy that she became his dear charmer and condensed all his ambitions in the one desire to gain a reciprocal feeling. by his own admissions he became almost hopelessly stricken, the arrow of love cleaving the right ventricle of his heart clean through. the school-house was located on the bank of a creek where the woods grew luxuriantly, and afforded sylvan retreats for young lovers to build bowers of foliage and flowers. billy, ever regardful for the happiness of mary, with dextrous hands built arbors to shelter his young love, just large enough to hold two, the reserve space being, of course, intended for himself. but billy was not without competition, his rival being a larger and older boy named stephen gobel. the latter, heroes of the plains. instead of resorting to honorable means for winning mary, by trying to build a more delightful retreat for his sweetheart, ruthlessly tore down the arbors constructed by billy and defied the school-mate he had wronged. a fight was the consequence, in which adverse fortune attended billy, for he was compelled to acknowledge his defeat, which fact coming to the notice of the teacher, both combatants were brought under pedagogical disci- pline. the course of poor billy's love was, therefore, undisputably rough, but though his spirit was humiliated, his affection remained none the less strong. like the spider that, with industrious, will, rebuilds again and again the web destroyed by vengeful circumstance, so billy returned to the wreck of his little bower and care- fully reconstructed the arch with greener twigs and fresher flowers. but again the domineering stephen destroyed the romantic little shelter and thus precipitated another fight. in this second encounter the ruthless boy again humbled his rival, but by chance billy thought of a small dagger he carried, and during the fight it fell out of the scabbard convenient to his hand. with this he contested successfully by thrusting its keen point into stephen's hip, bringing a copious flow of blood. the wounded boy cried out, “i'm killed ! i'm killed," with such piteous voice that the scholars ran to inform the teacher, while billy, frightened at what he had almost unconsciously done, ran off with all possible speed, closely pursued by the teacher, but not closely enough to be caught. he continued his fight until he overtook a freight team driven by an acquaintance named john willis, to whom he hastily related the cause of his hurry, not for- getting, of course, to justify the act he had committed. “well,” responded willis, “you served him right; get up into the wagon and go with me to ft. kearney ; life of buffalo bill. the trip will take forty days and i want you for a caval- lard driver." this proposition suited billy, for his adventurous spirit caused him to long continually for an engagement that would take him over the plains among the buffaloes and coyotes; but he could not go without first seeing his mother, to whom he was most ardently attached. willis therefore consented to camp and go back with him at night to see his mother and endeavor to gain her per- mission. mrs. cody had already heard of the trouble in which billy had become involved, but, like her boy, she did not know the extent of gobel's injuries, imagining them to be greater than they were. after much reflec- tion and an expression of poignant regret, mrs. cody at last gave her consent to willis' proposition, and with tears streaming down her cheeks bade her little boy good- bye, not neglecting to implore him to be a good boy, and ever keep in mind the lesson he was now learning: that all wrong was sure to entail punishment. it so happened that gobel's wound consisted of a very slight cut, which, having drawn blood, was sufficient to excite grave fears in the wounded lad. but billy felt that he had committed a terrible crime and very natu- rally wanted to get out of the country to escape the fury of gobel's father, who, he' rightly suspected, would fol- low him. on the following day, while billy was sitting beside willis on the wagon, en route for kearney, he discovered old man gobel, accompanied by two others, who had got onto the trail and were after him. adopting willis' suggestion, billy got down into the wagon-bed and hid himself securely among the freight, leaving his friend to represent him. willis was a plucky fellow, and being heroes of the plains. well armed he bluffed the pursuing party and carried billy through safely. this incident was perhaps the turning point in william cody's life, for it proved to be the initiatory ceremony which conferred on him the first degree as a knight of the prairie, and caused him to adopt the wild, ro- mantic life he has ever since led. after completing the journey to kearney, billy entered the employ of russell, majors & waddell again as a cow-boy, which employment he followed for several months. having become somewhat emboldened by the length of his absence he at last returned home, where he was rejoiced to find his own and the gobel family on ex- cellent terms of friendship, and stephen ready to extend the palm of forgiveness. in the winter of - mr. cody had so far recov- ered that he was again able to leave his bed and travel, and in company with another free-state man named boles, went to cleveland to bring out a colony to kansas, which he accomplished, settling the new emigrants near grasshopper falls. but directly after his return a se- vere cold, contracted during the journey, aggravated his old wound and in the april following he died, leaving a large family illy provided for, with billy, who was now twelve years of age, the main support. with a heroism which has blossomed like the everlast- ing flower throughout his life, the young plainsman shouldered the burden that had thus fallen upon him, and one month after his father's death he sought and found employment with the great freighters russell, majors & waddell, and departed with his mother's bless- ings. he was assigned to duty under frank and william mccarthy, brothers, who were engaged to drive a large herd of beef cattle to salt lake city, which were to life of buffalo bill. serve as food for gen. albert sidney johnson's army, then operating against the mormons. to appreciate the dangers which such a journey invited at that date of western settlement it is only necessary for the reader to know the fact that in addition to the occu- pation of the country by mormons, hundreds of different warlike tribes of indians infested every ravine and moun- tain pass, many of these pests of the great west being employed by the mormons to massacre overland freight- ers and emigrants. it therefore required eternal vigi- lance upon the part of travelers to prevent themselves from falling into hands as unmerciful as the iniquitous inquisitors. men of iron nerve and desperate pluck were the only ones who attempted the perilous journey, and even these never departed from their border homes with- out taking a melancholy farewell of their kith and kin. little billy, by which familiar and no less euphonious appellation the youthful buffalo bill was universally known until after he became of age, was the only boy up to that time that had ever been permitted to accompany a team across the plains, as an assistant, but though fully apprised of the dangers of such a trip, he ran up the black feather and shouldering a mississippi yager mani- fested the greatest pride in being accepted as one of the volunteers for such a hazardous undertaking. he sought danger for the spice it afforded. the company, comprising cooks, drivers, herders, etc., numbering twelve persons, proceeded, with three hundred head of cattle, as far west as the south platte, beyond old ft. kearney, before they met with any inci- dent of note. stopping at this point in the evening, to go into camp, they met with a surprise which came near ending in the annihilation of the party. billy was busy- ing himself carrying wood preparatory to cooking sup- heroes of the plains. per, while three of the herders were rounding up the cat- tle in the corral; the others were distributed around the camping place preparing the tents and getting things ready for the night. suddenly, yelling and shooting was heard out where the herders were, and with the first volley three men were killed, having been taken by com- plete surprise by a band of fifty indians. the men in camp gathered their arms instantly, just in time to meet the charging indians as they came pell-mell over the hill directly for the wagons, yelling all the while like infuri- ated demons. billy was quick in comprehending the situation, and though his heart may have become more violent in its pulsations, he never stopped to pray or ask advice; but gathering his gun in common with the others got behind the wagons and began pouring swift lead into the indians. this prompt action, resulting as it did in the death of several braves, served to repel the charge. the indians, however, soon rallied, and flanking on both sides came back in a rainbow movement, which promised greater success. the mccarthy boys, appreciating the danger of their position, ordered the men to break for plum creek, the banks of which could be used as a pro- tection and breastwork. in this retreat one of the party was shot in the leg, the wound being so severe that his companions had to carry him to prevent him from falling . into the hands of the red demons. reaching plum creek, which was only fifty yards from the place of encampment, the men tried to check the indians, but their movements were anticipated and in order to prevent being entirely cut off, the mccarthys advised a retreat down the stream toward ft. kearney the wounded man was placed on a log fortunately found at the water's edge and allowed to drift with the current, which chanced to be rapid by reason of recent rains. life of buffalo bill. the men, by excellent markmanship, kept the indians at a distance, and thus the march continued for about twenty miles, until they reached a junction of the creek with the north platte. but keeping close to the bank, the party continued on down the stream throughout the night. billy, being so young, became very much exhausted by so long a march, carrying a large gun, and permitted the others to get nearly a hundred yards in advance. the night, now approaching morning, was made beautiful by a bright full moon, and in closely watching the banks billy's quick eye fell upon the decorated head-dress of a big indian as he was peering over the bank looking for a favorable shot. quick as thought, without challenging the enemy or shouting to his companions for help, the brave boy raised his gun and fired. there was no cause for conjecture regarding the effect of his aim, for with a leap like the stricken deer, head-dress and indian came tumbling down the embankment, rolling over and over in the descent, and fell dead at billy's feet. to say that the youthful indian slayer was surprised affords no concep- tion of his feelings ; he was frightened with astonishment and when his companions rushed back to determine the cause of the shooting, they found billy standing beside his victim with looks indicative of victor and vanquished, too puzzled at first to explain his act; but the dead in- dian was explanation sufficient and billy was at once complimented with such generous enthusiasm that he soon realized what a heroic deed he had accomplished. after the loss of their inquisitive companion the indians drew off and left billy and his party to pursue the re- mainder of their journey unmolested. it was long after the first morning hours when the footsore party reached kearney, but upon arriving at the fort frank mccarthy made due report of the indian at- heroes of the plains. tack, not forgetting to elaborately describe the bravery of billy and how scientifically the lion-hearted lad had slain the “ biggest indian in the outfit." a company was at once mounted on mules and sent out from the fort, taking a howitzer with them, to re- cover the cattle and if possible punish the dusky ma- rauders. billy was allowed to accompany the soldiers, as his capabilities were now reckoned at more than par. this force, upon reaching the scene of attack, found the mutilated remains of the three herders, to which they gave proper burial and then pushed on in pursuit of the indians, but the trail was lost in crossing republican river, and further efforts of the company were directed to recovering the cattle. but even this object of the ex- pedition had to be abandoned, as it was found that the cattle not driven off by the indians had been stampeded with buffaloes, thus rendering their recapture impossible. the first expedition, therefore, in which billy had been engaged terminated disastrously, but it brought to him a full measure of adventure and notoriety. the fame so soon won had preceded him on his return, so that when he arrived in leavenworth, on his way home, there was an enterprising reporter awaiting to interview him. billy, though by no means vainglorious, told the story of his adventure with much satisfaction, and on the following day he found the substance of his relation under a bewil- dering, pyrotechnical display of sensational head lines, in which he was heroized with a veneering of eulogistic ex- pressions impossible of analysis. in the language of buf- falo bill, this incident has been attached to his name like a tin kettle to a dog's tail, and ever since he has been pur- suing life with this appendage clattering at his heels. many men, however, have been made famous by circum- stances much less interesting and meritorious. life of puffalo bill. chapter iii. billy did not remain at home long before another opportunity was offered him to cross the plains. with most boys a trip replete with experiences such as he had encountered at plum creek would have satisfied their craving for further adventure in that direction, but to him the effect was to increase his longing for the plains, to share the perils, hardships and life of danger-loving prai- rie free-rovers. the opportunity referred to came in an offer made him by a wagon boss named lew simpson, who was in the employ of russell, majors & waddell, to accompany a freight train to salt lake as an “extra.” mrs. cody was decidedly averse to her boy making another trip over a route she was now convinced led through the greatest dangers, and when simpson begged hard for billy, pledging to return him in safety, she pos- itively refused. no one can fail to appreciate this poor mother's decision; she saw in the proposed trip a certain absence of nearly one year even should no evil attend her promising son, but more than this, she could not avoid the belief that should he go, no one could protect him against the perils he must encounter. finding her decision so firm, billy at length told his mother that, while he regarded her desires and loved her devotedly, and sought to render true filial obedience, yet he must needs follow some occupation that would yield a necessary subsistence for the family now dependent upon his exertions ; that he must therefore go. he accordingly arranged the payment of his monthly salary ($ . ), so that mr. russell could turn it over to her on the first of each month during his absence. heroes of the plains. seeing that nothing could deter him from his purpose, mrs. cody implored simpson to watch over her boy with tender regard ; that he was not only a son in whom her affections centered, but her staff of life upon whom she was now compelled to lean. mr. russell also requested simpson to protect little billy at all hazards, and these promises being given, the young hero was suffered to de- part on the dangerous journey, leaving a weeping and praying mother behind him. before proceeding to a relation of the incidents during the trip, it is needful to give a description of overland freighting, and also some idea of the business conducted by the great freighters, russell, majors & waddell. the wagons used for this purpose were built specially by a large firm in st. louis, and were constructed with a storage and carrying capacity of , pounds. to haul these wagons, when loaded, usually required from eight to ten yoke of oxen, according to the weight of the cat- tle. a train of prairie schooners consisted of twenty- five wagons in charge of the following “ officers and sea- men,' so to speak: the wagon-master, who acted as captain ; then came the assistant wagon-master, then the extra hand, then the night herder, then the cavalierd driver, whose duty it is to attend the extra cattle. be- sides these each team has a driver, so that the full com- plement for a complete train is thirty-one men. among these men a language is used peculiarly their wn; the wagon-master is called the “bull-wagon boss," the teamsters are “bull-whackers," and a train is called a “bull outfit.” every man is expected to be thorough- ly armed, and each knows where to “ fall in ” when an attack is made, which at that date was anticipated at any time while passing over the route to salt lake. this trail, as described by buffalo bill, ran as follows: litu of buffalo bill. battle of ash hollow. heroes of the plains. “ through kansas northwestwardly, crossing the big blue river, then over the big and little sandy, coming into nebraska near the big sandy. the next stream of any importance was the little blue, along which the trail ran for sixty miles; then crossed å range of sand-hills and struck the platte river ten miles below old fort kearney; thence the course lay up the south platte to the old ash hollow crossing, thence eighteen miles across to the north platte, near the mouth of the blue water, where gen. harney had his great battle in with the sioux and cheyenne indians. from this point the north platte was followed, passing court house rock, chimney rock and scott's bluffs, and then on to fort laramie, where the laramie river was crossed. still following the north platte for some considerable distance, the trail crossed this river at old richard's bridge, and followed it up to the celebrated red buttes, crossing the willow creeks to the sweet water, passing the great independence rock and the devil's gate, up to the three crossings of the sweet water, thence past the cold springs, where, three feet under the sod, on the hottest day of summer, ice can be found; thence to the hot springs and the rocky ridge, and through the rocky mountains and echo cañon, and thence on to the great salt lake valley.” in order to take care of the business which then offer- ed, the freight for transportation being almost exclu- sively government provisions, russell, majors & waddell operated , wagons, for the hauling of which they used , oxen, and gave employment to , men; the capital invested by these three freighters was nearly $ , , . in their operations, involving such an immense sum of money, and employing a class of laborers incomparably reckless, some very stringent rules life of buffalo bill. were adopted by the firm, to which all their employes were made to subscribe. in this code of discipline was the following obligation : "i, do hereby solemnly swear, before the great and living god, that during my engagement, and while i am in the employ of russell, majors & waddell, that i will, under no circumstances, use profane language; that i will drink no intoxicating liquors of any kind; that i will not quarrel or fight with any other employe of the firm, and that in every respect i will conduct myself honestly, be faithful to my duties, and so direct all my acts as will win the confidence and esteem of my employers, so help me god.” this oath was the creation of mr. majors, who was a very pious and rigid disciplinarian ; he tried hard to en- force it, but how great was his failure it is needless to say. it would have been equally profitable had the old gentleman read the riot act to a herd of stampeded buf- faloes. and he believes it himself now. among the bull-whackers who accompanied this train with billy was j. b. hickok, who afterward became the noted - wild bill,” and between the two an intimate ac- quaintance soòn sprang up which ripened into the strong- est friendship, enduring year after year until the latter's assassination in . in fact, as buffalo bill declares in his autobiography, “ wild bill was my protector (refer- ring to the time when his first overland trip was made,) and intimate friend, and the friendship thus begun con- tinued until his death." the route as described was the same as that taken by billy and the mccarthy boys only a few months before, and when the train reached plum creek, having met with no adventure worthy of note, a halt was made for one day to rest the oxen and take a buffalo hunt, >> heroes of the plains. big game was so abundant in that-section of country that writers as far back as asserted that there were enough buffaloes on the western prairies to feed the whole world for a century, and that ten thousand hunters shooting day after day for a hundred years could make no perceptible diminution in the number. shortly after the oxen were herded and the wagons lo- cated a large drove of buffaloes were discovered bearing toward the camp with a party of california emigrants in the rear. on they came in a mad stampede, and no amount of shouting and shooting could swerve them from their course. a few minutes later the whole herd of more than one thousand crazed animals rushed like & wave of thunder into the camp, over the wagons, oxen and other impediments, crippling themselves but making sad havoc of the train. wagons were overturned and broken, the provisions scattered and trampled, and when the animated wave had swept over and by there was desolation in the wake. the train men had found a great many more buffaloes than they had intended hunt- ing. it required two days of hard work to repair the injury so that the train could proceed. on the following day, after leaving the plum creek camping grounds, the train-men met joe smith, jr., who was acting as a spy for the mormons, ascertaining the number and character of the “outfits" on the road, and preparing for their capture. as no one in the train knew him he had no difficulty in obtaining all the information he desired. after remaining with the men for one day, smith made a plausible excuse for leaving them, and then rode rap- idly to an appointed rendezvous where the mormons, nearly two hundred strong, were awaiting his orders. when the train had reached the rocky mountains, heroes of the plains. son's army some of the party must certainly have fallen victims to deadly hunger. arrangements having been made for a return to fort leavenworth, all the employes at fort bridger deter- mined to accompany the returning cavalcade, and simp- son was chosen brigade wagon-master of the new “out- fit,” which consisted of two trains and four hundred men. when the trains approached ash hollow, simpson de- cided to leave the main road and make a cut-off by fol- lowing the north platte down to its junction with the south platte. in traveling the two trains had become separated with an intervening space of fifteen or twenty miles between them, the latter train being in charge of assistant wagon-master geo. woods, under whom billy was acting as extra.' simpson, accompanied by woods, desiring to reach the head train, ordered billy to “ sinch '(saddle)up and follow him.' the three rode rapidly for some time until they reached cedar bluffs, when they suddenly dis- covered a score of indians emerging from the head of a ravine less than half a mile distant, bearing down upon them at great speed. “ dispiount and shoot your mules,” was the quick order issued by simpson, who was at once alive to the situation. as the jaded and stricken animals dropped in their tracks, the three menzor rather two men and one little boy—crouched down behind the mules which lay together in a triangle, and using their dead bodies as breast-works, opened fire on the indians with mississippi yagers and revolvers, killing three and wounding two ponies. the red-skins, surprised at the hot-bed they had struck, circled around and sped away again, halting soveral hundred yards distant, evidently for consultation, life of buffalo bill. >> this gave the beleaguered trio time to reload their weapons and prepare for a second charge, which they felt sure would be made. the indians were armed with bows and'arrows, which of course required close range to be effective, and this gave the little party an advantage which partly com- pensated for the superior number of their enemies. little billy showed so much pluck in the dangerous position he occupied that simpson could not help prais- ing him, and by way of further encouragement he said: “ my brave little man, do you see that indian on the right, riding out from the party to reconnoiter?” “ yes, i'm watching him," was the reply. • well, suppose you give him a shot just by way cf experiment.' billy at once extended himself and resting his gun on the body of the mule before him, took steady aim and fired. • bully boy! a splendid shot !” shouted simpson as he saw the indian topple from his horse, struck evidently in the side, as the wounded savage commenced trying to crawl, his hand pressed over the injured spot. the dis- tance was fully three hundred yards. after a long parley the indians scattered, and came charging back again whooping in a delirium of excite- ment. when they had approached within less than one hundred yards, the besieged party turned loose on them, shooting two more out of the saddle; but the indians rushed on discharging a shower of arrows, one of which pierced geo. wood's right-shoulder, producing a very painful wound. more than a dozen other arrows struck in the bodies of the dead mules, but inflicted no other damage. for a second time the red warriors were re- pulsed and when they drew off again it was evidently for heroes of the plains. the purpose of resorting to other tactics. getting be- yond the range of the yagers, the indians formed in a large circle, tethered their ponies and disposed themselves for a siege, with the evident intention of starving out the brave trio. about three hours afterward, however, the cracking of bull-whackers' whips was heard, and soon the advancing train was seen coming over a hill. the indians appre- ciated what this meant, and gaining their ponies rode down on the little party again, discharging another flight of arrows and receiving a volly of bullets in return. no damage was inflicted on either side in the last charge, and the three were saved. their safety, however, was due entirely to the prompt and decisive action of simp- son, who was a man exactly suited for working out des- perate circumstances to his own advantage. after bandaging wood's wound the train started again and met with no further detention or accident, reaching leavenworth in july, . wild bill had been a special companion of billy's during the entire trip, and so warm had become the attachment between them that the latter gave him a pressing invitation to go with him to his home for a short visit, a request which wild bill acceded to. during this visit he was treated with so much attention that he became as one of the family, and ever after, until the death of billy's mother, he called her “ mother cody.” billy had been at home scarcely one month before he engaged himself as assistant wagon-master to another train which was made up at ft. laramie to carry supplies to a new post just established at cheyenne pass. in this, his third trip, he met with no stirring adventure and got through without losing a team or man. this result was in pleasing varience with his two former trips, both of life of buffalo bill. which had been so full of stirring incidents and disas- trous consequences. upon his return to laramie from cheyenne pass he entered into an engagement with a mr. ward, the post- trader, to trap for beaver, mink and otter on the chug- water, and poison wolves for their peltries. this enter- prise, yielding little or no profit, was abandoned after a two months' experiment, and billy returned to laramie, where, a few days after, in company with two others, he started back to leavenworth. upon reaching the little blue, the three were jumped by a party of indians, who chased them for several hours, and doubtless would have captured them had not dark- ness intervened to assist them in escaping. after “ los- ing” the indians the trio discovered a cave, in which they resolved to spend the night, but upon lighting a match they were horrified at finding the place tenanted by the bones and dessicated flesh of murdered emigrants, who had gone the way of hundreds of other unfortunate pil- grims seeking gold and fortune in the far west. without waiting to make an investigation, the three now badly-frightened travellers broke camp, and regard- less of the cold and snow, pushed rapidly forward. after journeying all night they reached oak grove, and there taking in a fresh supply of necessaries, resumed their homeward march, reaching leavenworth in february. . heroes of the plains. chapter iv. billy, who had now reached the age of fourteen years, and was unusually large for one of that age, having been almost wholly without schooling, following his mother's entreaties, concluded to attend a school which had just been opened in the neighborhood of grasshopper falls. the pretty little mary hyatt, however, had removed from that section, and stephen gobel had forgotten the rivalry which resulted in broken arbors and a bloody se- quel. his attention being diverted by no love.episodes, billy applied himself with becoming diligence during the session, which lasted for a period of ten weeks, and made a most gratifying progress. this was the longest term of school he ever attended, and it is doubtful if all the schooling he ever received would aggregate six months, though he is now comparatively well educated, acquired almost wholly by extensive travel and association with polished people. when spring returned and the warm rays of a conge- nial sun freshened the brown grass on the prairie, turning it into an emerald sward as boundless almost as the sky overhead, the old impulse seized on billy again and he determined to seek the far west where adventure and danger incite the restless spirit of brave men. in addition to the promptings of his own nature there was a further motive in the recent discoveries of gold at pike's peak. who that is thirty years of age now will forget the wild excitement occasioned by the delirium- producing stories which floated as generous as the air into every nook of america, declaring the illimitable store- house of gold just laid bare at pike's peak? there was magic in the very name, and i distinctly recall to mind life of buffalo bill. now, though a small boy at the time, that the whisky bottles used then had the figure of a pilgrim with pack and pick on his shoulder, blown in one side, with the declaration, “bound for pike's peak,” underneath. why, since i come to think of it, my mother is using one of those old pike's peak bottles at this very day as a recep- tacle for camphor. billy, young in years, though now a man in size, in common with thousands of others seized a pick and set out for the wonderful diggings. he located on cherry creek where there was a camp called aurora, on the site now occupied by the city of denver. after digging around aurora for a few days, the ignus fatuus led him further up the mountains to black hawk, where he set- tled and worked most assiduously for a period of two months without finding as much as a handful of pay dirt. in the meantime provisions were so high that it took a jacob's ladder to reach the smell of cold beans. billy became not only tired but disgusted with the re- sult of his mining labors and resolved to get out of the country. he had no difficulty in finding others in camp of the same turn of mind as himself, and such as he de- sired as companions he induced to accompany him back. of the numerous caravans and individuals who adopted as their motto, “pike's peak or bust,” billy and his party fell back on the latter end of the bold legend. they were so badly “ busted,” in fact, that the only convey- ance left them was their legs. setting out on these the party proceeded on foot to the platte river, where the idea possessed billy that they might make the remainder of their journey to leavenworth on an improvised raft. by various means, but chiefly by killing game along the way, the party subsisted comfortably while they floated down the stream on a rickety collection of logs. heroes of the plains. matters were satisfactory enough until they reached jule's ranche, or julesburg, where having met a swifter current the raft struck a snag and went to pieces with a suddenness no less astonishing than the bath which in- stantly followed. fortunately, though the north platte is a broad stream, it is generally shallow, and the party had to swim but a short distance before they found a footing, and then waded ashore. everything having been lost with the raft, including their arms and such provisions as they had, the party stopped at julesburg to wait for something to turn up. it so happened that the great pony express had just been established between omaha and pike's peak, and other far western points, including san francisco. this route ran by julesburg where the company had an agent in the person of george chrisman, who was well ac- quainted with billy, the two having freighted together for russell, majors & waddell. finding billy out of employment and express riders being scarce, chrisman offered him a position as rider, which was gladly accepted. the requirements for this occupation were such that very few were qualified for the performance of the duties. the distance and time required to be made were fifteen miles per hour. only boys could be employed on ac- count of the weight to be carried, and such laborious rid- ing could be endured by very few. nevertheless, billy was an expert horseman and having the constitution and endurance of a broncho he braved the perils and duties of the position and was assigned to a route of forty-five miles. after riding for several months he received a letter from his mother urging him to return home and give up a position which would surely destroy his health. but he lifË of buffalo bill. continued in the employ of the express company until an- other letter came informing him of the severe illness of his mother; his filial love being stronger than any other trait of character, he immediately resigned and hurried to the bedside of his beloved parent, whom he was rejoiced to find growing better. chapter v. remaining at home scarcely one month billy received an invitation from an old friend, named dave harring- ton, to accompany him on a trapping expedition up the republican river, which, with hasty preparation, he gladly accepted. the two started out from salt creek valley with an outfit consisting of a wagon filled with traps and provis- ions drawn by a yoke of oxen. it was near the middle of november when the two started on the expedition, mrs. cody standing in the door when the team moved off, wiping the tears from her eyes and giving bounteous blessings to her beloved boy, watching with painful emotions until the white cover of the wagon which sheltered her dearest treasure became hidden by the prairie undulations in the distance. the two made excellent progress and met with no de- tention, arriving at the mouth of prairie dog creek early in december. here they found an abundance of beaver and trapped with such success that they secured three hundred beaver and one hundred otter skins before the severe weather interfered with their occupation. having obtained a full load of peltries it was decided heroes of the plains. to remain in the dug-out which they had constructed un- til the beginning of spring, when the return trip could be made without dangerous exposure. during the period of waiting the two occupied much of their time shooting elk, large numbers of which were roaming constantly within convenient proximity. on one occasion while out hunting and in pursuit of a large herd of elk, while passing around a large rock projecting over a small ravine, billy made a false step and was pre- cipitated onto the rocks below, the fall breaking his leg between the knee and ankle. this accident, always se- rious, was doubly so under the circumstances, when no surgical aid could be had, nor any but a miserably insuffi- cient attention could be given to mitigate the injury. to add still further to the misfortunes of the suffering boy, only a few days before this accident one of the oxen had broken a leg and harrington had been compelled to shoot the animal. here the two trappers were, in the midst of winter storms, without a team, and billy rolling in an agony which his partner was unable to relieve. after discussing the situation for some time harring- ton said: “ well, billy, this is a bad box, and the only way to get out is for me to reach the nearest settlement and get a team to haul you home.' the poor boy, though he well knew that the nearest place from which succor could be obtained was fully one hundred and twenty-five miles distant, and appreciated all the terrors of a long and painful waiting alone, among the hungry wolves and bands of equally ferocious indians, told harrington to do as he thought best about making the trip. it is no less pathetic than astonishing, the devotion which is so often found among the western pioneers life of buffalo bill. whose uncouth language and grizzly garb, if taken as an index to their true character, would lead to the inference that they are destitute of that human kindness which re- deems mankind and compensates our vices. brave dave harrington, just like cody himself, big- hearted, noble, generous, self-sacrificing, immediately prepared for the tedious winter journey. collecting about and within convenient reach of billy, plenty of dried beef, water and other provisions needful for the sufferer's subsistence, dave set out on the long trip, bid- ding his companion be cheerful and to expect his return in twenty-one days. finding himself utterly alone, poor billy—i say“poor” because the facts cannot fail to arouse the deepest pity and make us sympathize with him even now in remem- brance, because sensibly affected by the realization of his terrible situation-inside a rude “ dug-out, dug-out,” the trapper's home, consisting of an excavation in the side of a hill boarded up inside, and a single door for entrance and ventilation, billy lay on his rude litter nursing the inflamed and painful fracture ; nothing to relieve his lone- someness save the howls of prowling wolves scrambling about the chimney, peering down through the mud and sticks and sniffing at the chink under the door. nothing else to disturb his sombre reflections, save the whistling winds which came sweeping over his rude habitation rattling at the puncheon door and making the trees out- side groan in consonance with the biting cold. day after day, time, like a foot-sore and weary pilgrim, jogged slowly and drearily along until the tenth day had departed since harrington left on his mission for help. the shades of mid-winter were just gathering in the dark- ening fold of eventide when billy was aroused from his revery by a singular noise outside the door of his abode. heroes of the plains. there were shuffling feet near the entrance, and then a. moment of silence, followed by voices which his experi- enced ears told him proceeded from indians. uninvited, more than a dozen sioux, headed by chief rain-in-the- face, forced an entrance into the dug-out as though in- tent upon rifling the place, thinking the owners were ab- sent. but billy rose up from his pallet and when the in- dians' eyes fell upon him a murmur of confused voices followed, which he interpreted as a prelude to the ter- mination of his earthly career. a stroke of good fortune, however, came to the suf- fering boy in his direst extremity. old rain-in-the-face chanced to be an acquaintance of billy's, having met him frequently at laramie, and this acquaintance saved his life. the old chief told billy that the indians had in- tended to kill him, but he had prevailed on them to spare his life on account of his youth. this was joyful news, but the indians remained in the dug-out all night, feast- ing themselves on the provisions left for billy's use, and when they departed on the following morning took with them nearly everything in his larder, besides all the fire- he was thus left in a more trying situation than before, with many days yet to elapse before he could expect harrington's return. to add still further to the ordeal of suffering he was compelled to endure, a terrible snow-storm began on the fifteenth day after dave's departure and continued until the snow had fallen to a depth of nearly three feet, blocking the entrance to his hut, and as he well knew, must seriously delay harrington, perhaps cause him to lose the way or furnish a trail for a band of murderous indians. these forebodings almost crazed him, for in addition to the probable loss of his friend, starvation threatened him, and his injured limb had become daily more painful from enforced neglect, arms. heroes of the plains. transpired during the painful separation, in which har- rington told how he braved dangers few men could survive, tumbling into snow-drifts, wading treacherous streams, etc., the two made preparations to return, though the perils of the journey over a territory beset with so many uninviting prospects were sufficient to deter any but the stoutest hearts. a bed was carefully made in the wagon of furs and blankets, on which harrington placed billy, and bidding good-bye to the old hut in the hillside, the two set out for junction city. directly after their departure, the sun came out warm and revivifying, and in three days the snow had melted so rapidly that they experienced no further difficulty in traveling. reaching the place from whence harrington had hired the team to bring billy away from the dug-out, another yoke of oxen was purchased, being paid for in peltries, and the latter end of the journey was accomplished with- out further incident. arriving at junction city, dave and billy sold their furs at a most satisfactory price, and also the team, for which they had no further use, as government mule trains were almost daily passing that point, bound for leaven- worth, with which transportation was easily arranged. the two trappers reached leavenworth in march, , and billy, unable to get about, begged his friend to ac- company him home, for at least a short visit. harring- ton, who was warmly attached to his now helpless com- panion, assented after small persuasion, arriving at salt creek valley after a delay of one day at leavenworth. mrs. cody was overcome with joy when she received her boy, but cast down again with grief at seeing his condition, which, with a mother's natural solicitude, she at first magnified into a serious injury. upon learning life of buffalo bill. the noble, generous part acted by harrington toward billy, with tears of thankfulness and gratitude she mani- fested her appreciation and obligation to the brave man who had submitted to all danger and privation to secure the safety of her darling boy. harrington remained with billy at mrs. cody's home for several days, treated with the consideration his sacri- fices deserved ; but after the lapse of a week, thinking he had been idle too long already, he set about perform- ing some needful work on mrs. cody's premises. while planting trees on a cold damp day in the latter part of march the exposure, though not to be compared with what he had so recently passed through, was such that he contracted a severe cold, which speedily grew into pneu- monia. despite the most careful attention from mrs. cody and the services of a physician from leavenworth, poor dave harrington, one of the noblest of god's creatures, died, after an illness of one week. far from home and relations, he yielded up his brave spirit sur- rounded by most devoted friends who mourned him as a brother, and laid him away under a sod freshened with their tears. even to this day to speak of dave harrington in buf- falo bill's presence will turn him from the merriest mood and bring tears to his eyes. there is a large place in cody's heart reserved for the memory of his dearest friend. heroes of the plains. chapter vi. billy remained at home until his injured leg had be- come thoroughly strong, and it being now the long and tedious days of summer, he determined to cast about again for occupation somewhere in the great wild west. proceeding to leavenworth he there met lew simpson to whom he made known his wishes, and received in re- ply an invitation to accompany a train just then being made up for ft. laramie. but “ bull-whacking” was not exactly the employment most desirable, and billy asked simpson's influence in securing the position of pony-express rider again. the result of this application was billy's departure for atchison, where he met mr. russell, proprietor of the express, who gave him a letter to alf. slade, who was superintendent of the route between rocky ridge and julesburg, with headquarters at horse shoe station, near laramie. having to go overland almost to laramie, billy con- cluded to accompany simpson's train, thereby making the necessary trip a profitable one. upon reaching horse shoe he presented mr. russell's letter to slade, who, af- ter critically examining the youthful applicant, said: my boy, you're a mite too young for the business ; i'm afraid you couldn't stand it more’n a week.” “i'd like to try again,” responded billy. “i rode bill trotter's division for two months last year and stood the shaking all right, so i don't see why i couldn't do as well now, as i'm a year older.” “are you the young one who rode that route and was called the youngest express rider in the west?” “ that's me,” replied the anxious billy, “and i'd like to do it again.” life of buffalo bill. “ then i'll take you,” answered slade, “and you can go right to work between red buttes and three cross- ings. thus the engagement was concluded and billy entered upon active service the following day. red buttes was a station on the north platte, and three crossings was a point seventy-six miles west, on the sweetwater. this route, a very long and dangerous one, ran by the site now occupied by the town of north platte, and through what is now the main street of that place. during a visit i made to buffalo bill, at his home, in may, , while riding with him, we crossed the u. p. railroad bridge over the north platte river, and from this point of observation he showed me where the express crossing of that stream was made. although the north platte is generally quite shallow it is more than half a mile wide, and in some places quite deep. the crossing, which was always made on horseback by the express riders, was only two or three hundred yards south of the present railroad bridge, and near the west shore where the channel runs, the water is about twelve feet in depth, besides being very swift. the reader can readily imaginez from this superficial description, the nerve required in a rider over this perilous route, where an average of fifteen miles per hour, including changes of horses, had to be made. coming to the north platte, regardless of the frequent swollen and turbulent condition of the stream, billy had to plunge in and take his chances of getting to the other shore. time and again he was carried down on the roaring waters, his horse's feet swept from under him, and met with disasters from which escape seemed impos- sible ; but he always gained the shore and lost very few horses hy drowning. life of buffalo bill. had become so dangerous that it was next to impossible for the overland stage company to hire stage drivers, although very high wages were offered. billy, now being out of employment as a rider, prof- fered his services as a stage-driver, which, notwithstand- ing his youth, were gladly accepted. directly after be- ginning this hazardous occupation he met with an adven- the attack on the stage coach. ture, which, though it may not have given him a genuine fright, certainly did not contribute any to his estimation of the good times on the plains. while driving a stage between split rock and three crossings he was suddenly set upon by about five hun- dred sioux whose arms, fortunately, consisted only of bows and arrows. lieut. flowers, a brave fellow who was then acting as assistant division agent, sat on the heroes of the plains. s boot” beside billy, and the stage was occupied by half a dozen well armed passengers. a terrible fight ensued, which for a time seemed to threaten certain de- struction to the occupants of the vehicle. billy gave the horses the line while lieut. flowers applied the whip, leaving the passengers to look to the defence. arrows fell around and struck the stage like hail, piercing the sides, striking the horses and dealing destruction gener- ally. two of the passengers were killed and lieut. flow- ers was badly wounded in the shoulder. billy grabbed the whip from the wounded officer and kept applying it briskly, shouting defiance in the meantime to his pursu- ers, and succeeded in driving into three crossings with out further damage. this last trip had proved so disastrous that it was de- termined by the stage company not to rely any longer on the u. s. troops stationed at various posts in the west, but to use their own volunteer employes in an administra- tion of frontier vengeance on the murderous indians. to accomplish this, requests for volunteers were made, which found response in all the men communicated with, about fifty in number. this force was placed under charge of wild bill and was accompanied by billy. the expedition moved swiftly into the enemy's country as far as clear creek where the indians were found encamped, unconscious of any lurking danger. waiting until nightfall the impetuous stage employes descended upon the hostiles, charging through their camp with revolvers in hand. as the astonished indians poured out of their wigwams they were met by a furious fire which literally swept up the entire camp, leaving scores of dead indians around the smouldering fires and causing those that escaped the revolver to flee precipitately to the hills and hollows, where, owing to the darkness, they could not be followed. life of buffalo bill. the expedition was a complete success, for besides so severely punishing the hostiles, about two hundred head of horses were captured and brought safely to sweetwa- ter bridge. chapter vii. billy having performed such excellent services for the express company, upon his return from the clear creek expedition alf. slade tendered him the position of extra,” in which he was required to ride pony-express only during the times when an extra man was needed, which was so seldom that more than two-thirds of his time was unoccupied save as he himself chose to employ it. his pay, however, remained the same as that re- ceived by the regular riders. located at horse shoe, in the center of a country abounding with large game, it was here that billy first developed a desire for hunting, and by the constant use of firearms thereafter became the best rifle and pistol shot, as he confessedly is, of america to-day. the only competitor he acknowledged in the use of a pistol in was wild bill, whose superior perhaps never lived, and when that wonderful scout, guide and spy was assas- sinated there were none, and are none now, to dispute with buffalo bill the honors of superior marksmanship. on one occasion, during the period of comparative idleness, billy concluded to go upon a bear hunt, large numbers of bear being readily found in the adjacent hills. so, saddling his horse and taking a large rifle and two revolvers with him, he departed early in the morna ing and proceeded up the horseshoe valley. an abund- heroes of the plains. ance of smaller game, such as antelope, sage-hens and jack rabbits, were constantly passing within gun-shot, but of these he had already killed great numbers, and consequently they were now left unmolested. late in the evening, having as yet, found no bear, billy decided to camp and renew his hunt on the mor- row, rather than return without some trophy of his suc- cess as a bear hunter. after building a fire he shot two sage-hens for supper, but just as he was in the act of picking one of the birds a horse's whinney was heard further up the mountain- side, which gave him serious apprehensions. scattering the fire-brands he secreted his horse and went upon a tour of investigation to discover the character of his neighbors. it had now grown quite late, so that the gathering darkness gave some secrecy to his movements, and ap- proaching cautiously the spot indicated by the horse's signal, he soon discovered a dug-out, and several horses tethered about the abode. approaching still nearer he heard the voices of several persons inside, conversing in a familiar tongue, so that he at once concluded they were trappers or hunters, and being white men, of course friends. advancing to the door of the dug-out, billy rapped on the puncheon entrance and received in reply the chal- lenge : " who's thar?" “a white friend,” billy replied. at this the door was opened and by the light of a large fire blazing on the ample hearth, there was disclosed to his astonished gaze eight characters whose faces would have been an admirable study for the horrible-loving dore. it was not only villainy pictured on their fea- life of buffalo bill tures, but an iniquity of human nature which might find comparison only in the darkest caverns of hades, wherein sit the most hideous deformities of vicious wickedness. inside the robbers' dug-out. long, grizzled beards, blearing eyes, flaring and beaked noses, mouths like caves of despair, dark complexions, massive forms and bell-mouthed, deep, portentious voices. heroes of the plains. your two of these faces billy had seen before and knew they were worn by men discharged from the employ of the overland stage company; further than this, intui- tion admonished him that he had struck a den of horse- thieves. • come in, don't be back’ard," was the invitation ex- tended, and appreciating the situation billy had to appear at ease in order to conceal his real anxiety. “ whar ’re you from, and who's with you?'' “oh, i'm from down the country ; been a bear hunt- ing by myself and hearing the whinneying of one of horses as i was going into camp for the night, thought i'd see who was around; so here i am." billy delivered his information in a most unconcerned manner, though he could see serious trouble ahead un- less he could get out of the thieves' clutches by some strategy. “well, whar's your hoss?'. . “i left him tied right down here a few hundred yards, where i was camping. if you don't object i'll leave my gun here and go back and bring him up, for i prefer company and would like to stay with you to-night.” the cunning of this speech could not have been sur- passed by the oldest strategist in a frontier settlement. parting with the gun billy esteemed a small sacrifice if by so doing he could save himself and horse. but the scheme, though never so clever, did not suc- ceed as the youthful hunter expected. two of the vil- lains at once proffered their services to accompany him and assist in bringing the horse to the dug-out. this social proposition took away at least two-thirds of billy's nerve, but he had to consent, and the three started off, going directly to the boy's camping place and securing the horse. life of buffalo bill. “ there are a couple of sage-hens by the fire, which i was preparing to cook when i heard your horse nicker ; i guess i'll take them along for our supper.” thus speaking, billy picked up the birds, and then the thieves led off, leading the boy's horse, toward their den. billy fully realized the danger of his situation and knew that the adoption of some desperate expedient could alone save him from a terrible fate, for the thieves would certainly kill him rather than permit his escape and the certainty of his giving information of their ren- dezvous. so after debating with himself for a few mo- ments, he decided upon a plan which was put into imme- diate execution. purposely, and yet as though by acci- dent, he dropped one of the sage-hens, and in picking it up so managed as to let his two villainous companions get slightly ahead. quick as lightning he struck one of the thieves a stunning blow from behind with the butt of his heavy pistol, and as the other turned about to help his companion billy shot hin, dead. grabbing his horse, he leaped into the saddle and fled back down the moun- tain. the way, however, was so rugged, abounding in large stones and brush, that his progress was very slow. the shot was heard by the robbers in the dug-out, and they hurried down to discover the cause. coming upon the spot, they found a dead companion, and the one that was knocked down had sufficently recovered to explain the attack. pursuit was begun at once, and as the thieves could travel much faster than billy on horseback, contending with the obstacles of a mountain descent, they soon ap- proached so close that the brave boy leaped from his horse, giving the animal a smart stroke on the quarter which sent him scrambling on, while billy secreted him- self behind a large tree, where the villains soon passed heroes of the plains him in their pursuit of the fleeing horse. a few moments later the shots from their revolvers convinced billy that his pursuers believed they were still on his track, and hoped either to disable the horse or kill him in the sad- dle. when the sounds of the pursuit had died away he abandoned the sheltering tree and set off with all possible speed for horse-shoe, which he reached in an ex- hausted and almost famished condition after twelve hours hard travel. reporting the particulars of his adventure to slade, a party of ten was made up at once, headed by slade him- self and guided by billy, to go in pursuit of the thieves. a rapid travel of six hours brought them to the scene of conflict, where a new-made grave was found which covered billy's victim, but upon reaching the dug-out they found that place abandoned and nothing left to indicate an in- tended return. after trying in vain to find the trail, the party abandoned the idea of catching the robbers and re- turned to horse-shoe. billy was complimented in a most deserving way for the cunning and bravery he displayed in eluding the thieves, and especially for expending a pis- tol cathartic on one of the number. directly after this incident he was put on the road again as express rider, his alternate being wild bill. these two rode between three crossings and red buttes, mak- ing better time than any other riders ever on the road. both, however, had grown so rapidly that their weight exceeded the limit required by the express company, and on this account they were discharged. but after a thirty days' experiment the company found that it was impos. sible to get other riders who could make the time, so that billy and his particular friend, wild bill, were again em- ployed, riding under an exception to the general order. here they remained until the tocsin of civil war summoned life of buffalo bill brave hearts to the front and changed nearly every man's occupation. chapter viii. much excitement having been created in eastern kan- sas by the ft. sumpter attack, and also learning of his mother's general ill health, these two causes induced billy to give up his position as an express rider and hurry home. mrs, cody entertained strong union sentiments, being greatly influenced therein by the outrages she had been compelled to endure at the hands of pro-slavery men, all of whom were now pronounced southern sympa- thizers on account of the slavery issue. a number of free-state men who had suffered perse- cution from missouri pro-slavery incursionists, concluded that the inauguration of war, involving much of the issue that had been fought out between kansas and missouri, gave them license to cross the slave state border for re- taliatory purposes. in pursuance of this conclusion capt. chandler enlisted twenty-five men, billy being one of the number, to invade missouri and capture promising horses. this design, though having some of the appearances of a criminal purpose, cannot affect buffalo bill's honor now for several reasons, chief among which was the very strong feeling that existed among the free-state people of kansas against the pro-slavery party of missouri. no family ever suffered more from iniquitous mobs than the cody family; robbed time and again; insulted day after day; mr. cody foully murdered; their stock driven off; maturing crops devastated and suffering heroes of the plains. every conceivable outrage, it was not only natural but proper that the remaining members of the cody family should regard retaliation as righteous. further than this, billy was young in years and influenced by the spe- cious representations of chandler who gave to his intended acts all the color of law and justice; these several considera- tions moved him to become a member of this independ- ent band and share alike its fortunes and reverses. in the latter part of july, according to a preconcerted arrangement, chandler's company met at westport, missouri, and having received their orders every man went upon a forage through the neighborhood, returning at night with nearly fifty head of first-class horses, taken promiscuously from people in jackson county. after this bold confiscation the company made their way over into kansas at wyandotte where the party separated with an agreement to meet again at the expiration of one week in leavenworth. after two or three similar incursions the government took a part in the suppression of the enterprise, and mrs. cody learning the true nature of the forays counseled with billy against lending his aid to such undertakings; admonishing him that the occupation was dishonorable and he must abandon it. this kind and excellent advice served to enlighten him as to the demerits of such retali- ation and he refused to accompany subsequent expe- ditions. later in the fall he carried dispatches between leavenworth and ft. larned, kansas, and afterward assisted george long in purchasing horses for the government. succeeding this employment he became a member of capt. tuff's red legged scouts, which was a company composed exclusively of scouts and well-known frontier characters. this organization did most effective life of buffalo bill. · service in the protection of kansas and fighting the bor- der guerrillas. when not in active duty on the field they were employed in carrying military dispatches between forts leavenworth, larned, gibson and dodge. in the spring of billy was engaged to conduct a merchant train from leavenworth to denver, which being conducted through safely, he received a letter on the day of his arrival there informing him of the serious illness of his mother. instantly he saddled his horse and made all possible speed homeward, riding almost day and night until he reached the bedside of his beloved parent. he was deeply distressed to find his mother quite ill, but not so ill as to banish hope for her recovery. but her sick- ness gave him such anxiety that he refused to leave home, remaining to minister to her comfort and necessi- ties. when the cold winds and sudden changes of fall ushered in the new season, mrs. cody gradually grew worse despite the most unremitting care, and on the d day of november she died. billy could find nothing to console him for the loss of a parent so well beloved ; there was a void in his nature which no engagement could fill; aimlessly he wandered about the old homestead with the face of his dead mother, pale and pitiful, ever before his confused eyes ; there, before him, were her noble acts; her brave, self- sacrificing disposition, the source from whence he drew the very nourishment of his existence, the goodly counsel that made his manhood. how many tears he shed over her grave; how many fresh flowers he planted in the coming spring; how many hours he spent beside her last earthly resting place and bedewed it with copious offer- ings welling up from the springs of his heart! there, under the prairie sod, where the winds gambol ceaselessly with waving grasses and spontaneous flowers; under the heroes of the plains. branches of a tree planted by the hands that once carried water to her feverish lips and were clasped with hers in prayer, sleeps a pioneer's wife and a true hero's mother; waiting the judgment day; waiting that last reunion and forgetting the sorrowful experiences of this eventful life. the family, bereft of a mother, was not separated, for one of billy's sisters having been married in the early part of the preceding spring, her husband settled on the homestead and kept the sisters of the family together. but billy was now doubly anxious to do something that would divert his mind from the loss which gave him such heart-breaking grief; and yet there seemed to be some strange influence trying to hold him near the sacred earth which enclosed the remains of his soul's affection. some weeks after this most melancholy incident billy went to leavenworth and there for the first time in his life, acting under the false impression that inebriety would mitigate his grief, deliberately drank to excess and naturally fell among wicked and depraved characters. while on a protracted spree and unconscious of what he was doing, he joined jennison's seventh kansas jay- hawkers, which had recently been organized for operation in missouri, but they were soon called upon to perform some hard service in tennessee and mississippi. in the spring of , billy moved with his regiment to memphis and from there to tupelo, miss., where, gen. a. j. smith having command, he participated in a hard fought battle with gen. forrest, the confederates being badly whipped. after some skirmishing in mississippi, billy's regiment was ordered back to missouri, entering the state at cape girardeau. the confederate general price had just entered upon his great raid in missouri, and jennison's regiment was ordered to push forward and either intercept the enemy or harass his rear until life of buffalo bill. gen. curtis could operate in conjunction with gen. smith. the courage, cunning and woodcraft displayed by billy had not escaped the soldierly eye of gen. smith, and as brave and strictly reliable men were now urgently needed, he was made a non-commissioned officer and placed on detached service as scout. in this position he did not confine himself to the usual duties of scout, but voluntarily performed the additional and more dangerous service of spy, for which he was well qualified. serving in this double capacity he obtained much valuable in- formation and soon became the pride of gen. smith's corps, and was regarded as one of the best general utility men in the whole army, never hesitating to perform a service however great the danger might be. while riding through southern missouri an incident occurred which well illustrates the magnanimity of his character. being more than a mile in advance of the command, he came to a thrifty appearing farm-house at which he alighted for a drink of water. the only occu- pants of the house at the time were an elegant elderly lady and her beautiful daughter. these two ladies were at first very much frightened at the appearance of a yan- kee, but nevertheless exhibited their courteous dispo- sitions by giving him water and setting out a chair with genuine hospitality, in which they asked him to rest: the elderly lady, in questioning billy concerning the union forces, was informed that the army was now less than one mile off and would soon march past the house. at this much fear was entertained and expressed by the ladies lest the soldiers should sack the premises and do violence to the place, knowing they were in an enemy's country. but he quieted their solicitude by begging them to be unconcerned, as he would see that they were not molested. heroes of the plains. as the army came up, preceded by the commander and staff officers, billy placed himself at the entrance of the house to act as sentry and guard to protect the premises. a moment later several soldiers attempted to enter, but he ordered them to stop, declaring at the same time that he had been placed there to protect that property from mo- lestation. not doubting his authority the soldiers pass- ed on and not a thing was taken from the place. the ladies felt so grateful to their protector that they prepared an excellent dinner for him, to which his hunger was paying tribute when suddenly three men sprang into the house and leveled their guns at him. “hold on; don't hurt this gentleman; he is our friend !” cried the ladies to the three men, who were the husband and two brothers of the family. the guns were immediately lowered and when the situ- ation had been explained to them each of the men shook billy warmly by the hand and thanked him heartily for his kind interference. the dinner being concluded under the happiest circumstances, billy bade adieu to the family and by fast riding soon overtook the command. chapter ix. young cody remained with the army in missouri, en- gaging in the conflicts between the union forces and gen. price until the winter of - put an end to the military operations and both armies went into winter quarters. during this period of inactivity billy visited st. louis and by good luck was detailed for special service at head- quarters. life of buffalo bill. winter is always a gay season in the city with its the- atres, balls, society gatherings, sleigh-riding and various recreative sports, and billy being of a most entertaining and jovial character was very soon introduced to many charming ladies of st. louis society. among the large number of elegant and beautiful girls whose acquaintance he made was one specially attractive to him, she being the center of a large group of admirers, all of whom were striving for the honor of her smiles and preference. the young lady's name was louisa frederici, and she was the daughter of an old and influential citizen. not only was she well connected and a lady of most admirable character, but she also possessed a beauty of face and perfection of form which were well nigh irresistible ; large, lustrous, brown eyes, beautifully arched with ele- gant brows; skin fair as the lily, a mouth which seemed to invite kisses, and hair profuse as a naiad's and black as a raven's wing. it is only proper to say that the first time billy met the beautiful louisa he fell in love too deep to ever hope for escape. but always a man of fortunate circumstances, his good luck did not forsake him in his love-making. it is unusual to descant upon the beauty of a man, but i will not be charged with hypercritical enthusiasm when i say that billy was then, as he is now, certainly one of the handsomest men in america, a claim which i am sure all the ladies will maintain, gathering their opinion from the portrait given of him in this book. miss louisa thought she had never met a finer-appearing gentleman, and to say that billy's all-absorbing affection was reciprocated is but to declare what the sequel proved. before the winter expired he had made a frank ac- knowledgment of his love and elicited a response which led to an engagement, but while overjoyed at his excel- heroes of the plains. lent success he realized that he was illy prepared to take care of a wife just then ; so without fixing the date for their marriage the lover went back to his duties and re- mained with his command until the war closed. he then accepted the situation of stage driver proffered him by bill trotter, who was agent for that division of the road between kearney and plum creek, the route which led over the same ground where billy killed his first indian. he continued to drive the stage until he had saved up several hundred dollars, and feeling now that he was in proper position for a consummation of his great desire, returned to st. louis, where, on the th of march, , he was married to miss frederici, the ceremony being performed at the bride's residence before a large assem- blage of friends. after receiving many congratulations, the couple took passage on a missouri river steamer for kansas, which was to be their home. during the bridal trip billy was recognized by three ol four passengers who had been pro-slavery men before the war and southern sympathizers throughout that event. ful period. hate and vengeance still rankled in their bosoms, and though afraid themselves to attack the brave young benedict, they found means to commu- nicate with some of their guerrilla friends that bill cody, the scout and fighter, was on board and might fall an easy prey to them. when the steamer landed at a desolate point on the river seventy-five miles west of lexington, to take on a fresh supply of wood, more than a dozen guerrillas ap- peared on the bank and tried to board the boat, but the captain frustrated their designs by ordering the stage- plank drawn in and then backing the steamer out before the guerrillas could gain the deck. several shots were life of buffalo bill. fired at the boat, but no special damage resulted. billy had anticipated trouble, owing to remarks he had over- heard from a party that had engaged passage at lexing- ton, and when the guerrillas appeared on the bank, in- stead of keeping himself close in his stateroom, he took a position at the head of the cabin stairs, and with a pistol in each hand, stood unconcernedly waiting for the approach of his enemies. had they succeeded in getting on board there would have been one of the liveliest fights since wild bill met the mccandlas gang. when cody and his beautiful bride reached leaven- worth they were met at the landing by a long line of carriages, which they were soon apprised contained nearly a hundred of his friends, who, having learned of his marriage and passage on the steamer, had made large preparations to give him a grand reception. a band of music headed the carriage procession and the party were driven directly to the house of one of billy's married sisters, where the day and evening were spent in a truly western jollification, feasting, dancing and music, the festivities being participated in by the best society of leavenworth, among whom billy enjoyed great pop- ularity. without wasting more time in a bridal tour, young cody went to salt creek valley, where he rented the house once occupied by his mother, and established a hotel known as the golden rule house, which he con- ducted with profit until the following september, when his old desire for the freedom and stirring adventures of the plains induced him to sell out and seek employment as a scout. at this time the kansas pacific railroad was in process of construction and had reached a point as far west as salina, which had become an active place, and thither heroes of the plains. billy directed his way. reaching junction city, he met wild bill, who was then scouting for the government, with headquarters at fort ellsworth (fort harker). by advice of the latter he proceeded to the post at ells- worth, where his application for the position of scout was favorably received and he at once went on duty. while scouting and guiding parties between fts. ells- worth and fletcher, in which service he was employed for a period of several months, he met gen. custer, who had been ordered to accompany gen. hancock on an in- dian campaign. custer, with ten men, was at ellsworth and desired a guide to conduct him to ft. larned, a dis- tance of sixty-five miles. cody was selected by the commanding officer of the post to accompany the general, who was to start on the following day. when the time for departure arrived cody appeared riding a small, mouse-colored mule while gen. custer and his escort were mounted on fine, high-mettled steeds that were champing their bits with impatience to be off. gen. custer laughed heartily at the scout's sorry-looking pal- frey and declared that it would be impossible for the “ lit- tle mouse” to travel as rapidly as he wished. billy, however, insisted on riding the mule, and after a few hours of fast traveling the little animal began to show its bottom by keeping the advance and at length put so much distance between him and the fine war steeds that billy had to rein up from time to time in order that the general might overtake him. the best laugh, therefore, was with him who laughed last, and custer was so aston- ished that he wanted to trade his fine horse for the sorry little mule, for with custer the chief consideration was rapid travel regardless of the means employed—but he couldn't get the mule. billy's social disposition and contagious good humor life of buffalo bill. won the admiration of custer, who expressed much anx- iety to engage his services, telling him that a position would be open for him at any time he desired to join the command. the friendship thus formed was cultivated in after years and was intimate until the pathetic but heroic death of that singularly brave officer. chapter x. having guided gen. custer and his staff to ft. larned cody, on his return, was ordered to report at ft. hays. about this time a large band of indians had at- tacked the working force on the kansas pacific railroad and besides killing six men they had driven off a hundred head of horses and mules. major ames of the tenth cavalry (colored) was or- dered to take one company and a mountain howitzer and pursue the marauders. cody was selected as scout and guide to the expedition, which set out on the trail leading along the saline river. on the second day after leaving hays the indian camp was discovered on the opposite side of saline river and preparations were hastily made for the attack. an oppor- tunity was now to be offered for the colored troops to manifest their pluck, a large amount of which they seem- ed to carry on their tongues which wagged continually with expressions of impatience to get " turned loose on de red coyotes.” the howitzer was stationed on a knoll overlooking the indian camp and placed under a guard of twenty men, while the main portion of the com- pany crossed over to begin the attack. scarcely had the heroes of the plains. crossing been made when a terrible yelling was heard in the rear, and upon looking back major ames beheld the colored flower of his army fleeing with all possible haste, hatless and without arms, before a hundred indians that had charged on the guard and were now dancing around the captured howitzer. major ames had to take up just a little of the precious time in swearing at his cowardly men who had fled at the approach of the enemy without firing a gun; but he soon ordered a charge back up the knoll and easily re-took the gun, but the major was bad- ly wounded in the attack and the command thereafter practically fell on cody. there were more indians than had been anticipated, and the command was not sufficient to cope with them ; so af- ter a hard fight of about two hours it became a serious matter, not so much how to disperse the enemy as how to manage an escape, of which there seemed for a time small probability. a retreat was begun in which the colored troops unlimbered themselves in fine style, mak- ing good progress despite the dodging they practiced. night approached at last like a generous friend and by the protection the darkness afforded about one-half the company succeeded in reaching hays, the remainder having fallen victims to the victorious indians, who, however, had suffered the loss of a goodly number of their warriors. returning from a decidedly disastrous expedition cody declared that he never wanted to go “ hunting indians again with colored poachers. from ft. hays he carried dispatches to ft. harker, and having nothing special to engage him there, he vis- ited ellsworth where wild bill still made his headquar- ters. while on this visit he made the acquaintance of a western character named william rose, a railroad con- tractor and a man of many schemes. his hobby just at life of buffalo bill. this particular time chanced to be the location of a town along the railroad, in which he expected to make a for- tune selling corner lots. he disclosed his enterprise to cody, whom he knew by reputation, as did every other person in the west, and the matter was presented with such ingenious argument that billy entered into the scheme inflated with the promises of the undertaking. accordingly a sight was selected on the west side of big creek, one mile from ft. hays, which was duly laid out into blocks, with a large public square in the center, the whole being handsomely drawn on a plat of gorgeous colors. to give the place a start the two enterprising enthusiasts built the first house, which was a store, and stocked it with a good line of general merchandise. the town was then duly christened “rome,” because the place was expected to "howl.” a lot was donated to every one who would erect a building thereon and this generous proposition had a most gratifying effect, for building began with such a rush that in one month's time there were two hundred frame residences, four stores, and about twenty saloons. lots were selling rapidly for fifty dollars each and things were swimmingly prosperous with the firm of cody & rose. visions of incalculable riches hung before their delighted imagina- tion and happiness was pictured by an approaching abil- ity to buy up the country, including the railroad then under construction. rome was howling! but just as the dream was approaching realization, a gentleman named webb-dr. webb—stopped in town and enquir- ing for the proprietors of rome, was directed to cody & rose's store, where he found the two gentlemen, as usual, figuring their prospective gains. " got a booming town here i see,” said dr. webb by way of introduction. heroes of the plains. >> “yes, got the best town now and the biggest city here- after on the road. want to buy some lots ?” responded cody. “well, i don't know as i want to buy any lots, but i would like to go into partnership with you.' “partnership! why, great heavens, man, we don't want any partners. “i thought you might want to take me in since i am agent for the k. p. road sent out to locate towns on the route." “ that's all right, but we've got the bulge on you here and can take care of this town by ourselves.' “well, if that's your decision, i guess i'll have to start another town alongside of you just by way of competi- tion.” on the following day dr. webb went one mile west of rome and laid out a town which he named hays city. but rome being altogether better situated than hays and having such an admirable beginning, the doctor made proposition to donate two lots in his new place to every one who would erect a building thereon, and in addition to this, speaking as if by authority of the railroad officials, he made the announcement that the company intended to locate and build their machine shops, round-house and depot at hays city, leaving rome in a permanent de- cline. these flattering representations so seriously affected the firm of cody & rose that during the next few days, when they saw the whole town of rome either on rollers or on wagons moving over to hays city, they would have closed out their prospects for two cents and a half on the dollar—perhaps much less even than that. very soon the two dispirited town-owners were sitting in front of their store, now the sole remaining building of the once life of buffalo bill. flourishing town of rome, contemplating the mutability of human expectation; the presto, change! from riches to the dull, solemn fact of comparative poverty. how many times they said to themselves and to each other, “ had we only taken webb in as a partner!” however, it was some consolation to receive from their successful rival a deed to four of the best lots in hays, but this generous and balsamic application to their wounded anticipations did little to mitigate their feelings of poverty. during the short period that rome was on the rise billy had fitted up the rear part of his store and occupied it with his wife and infant daughter, arta, but when the bankrupting hegira to hays city set in mrs. cody paid a visit to her relations in st. louis, where she remained for some time and until a comfortable home was prepared for her at hays. abandoning all hope of making anything out of town enterprises, cody and his friend rose took a sub-contract for grading five miles of road west of big creek, and while prosecuting this work cody came into possession of a horse which afterward figured conspicuously in his in- teresting adventures. as rose thoroughly understood railroad contract work he was left to boss the men while billy performed an equally important work, furnishing them with meat. to procure these provisions it was necessary to hunt almost constantly, relying entirely on buffaloes, which were less plentiful in that section than in the country through which he had ridden the pony express. on one occasion as he was starting out on his favorite horse, old brigham by name, he saw half a dozen well- mounted officers approaching from ft. hays, who were out for a buffalo hunt. billy carried with him a breech- heroes of the plains. loading needle gun which he called “ lucretia borgia, an excellent weapon; but old brigham's caparisons con- sisted solely of an ancient blind bridle. to the officers, who ascertained that cody was also out after buffaloes, this o outfit,” a sleepy, angular, old horse, without sad- dle, bottle or other accessories, appeared so ridiculous that they accosted him : young man, ain't that a sorry team you're driving ? you don't expect to ride down any buffaloes with an old crow-bait like that, do you?” “ don't know, might catch up with the calves by pushing hard on the reins,” answered billy. the party had ridden out on the prairie scarcely two miles when they discovered a herd of eleven buffaloes making rapidly across the country toward a branch of big creek. the well mounted officers started after the game with all the speed they could get out of their fine horses, expecting to run the buffaloes down within two or three miles. instead of following the officers, billy pulled the reins on old brigham, who uncoupled himself in fine style, and struck out at full speed on a dif- ferent course from that pursued by the other party. cody knew from the direction and speed of the buffaloes about the point they would strike the creek, so heading for an objective point he struck the game fully a mile in ad- vance of the officers. throwing off the old blind bridle he let his well-trained horse come alongside the herd, and when he would shoot a buffalo brigham would run alongside another, and working thus as if by rule billy killed the entire herd in twelve shots before the aston- ished officers came within firing distance. said cody, as the well mounted amateur hunters came up to where he had dismounted and was, now standing by his unbridled horse, “i pushed well on - you see,' life of buffalo bill. the reins, a thing which you, perhaps, neglected to do. however, as i have got all the game, i don't want you to go back empty handed, so just help yourselves to tongues and tenderloins.”' the superior officer in the squad then remarked : “my name is graham, captain of the tenth cavalry ; now i want to know your name.' “want to know my name? why, it's nothing but bill cody.” “ bill cody! that they call billy? good gracious ! i've heard of you more than of any other man in the west. well, i am truly glad to see you. let me introduce you to lieutenants ezekiel, reed and emmick, they all be- long to my regiment." “glad to meet you, gentlemen, for i'm something of an army man myself.” “i want to say, billy, or mr. cody, that i have heard much concerning your peculiar qualifications as a rider, hunter and fighter, but heretofore i have been inclined to discredit the stories told of you. but let me say now, that after seeing you perform the remarkable feat of kill- ing eleven buffaloes in about three minutes, from a horse without bridle or saddle, that i am prepared to believe al- most anything." “why, captain, that is no trick at all on my part, for old brigham (that's my horse's name) is the one that did the hunting, i only did the shooting. this manner of conversation continued until the wagons sent out from billy's camp came up to haul off the buffa- loes. but before separating the officers extended a very cordial invitation to cody to visit them at ft. hays, where they expected to be stationed during the summer. heroes of the plains. chapter xi. having completed the contract for grading five miles of road-bed, billy was looking for another engagement when he received a proposition from the goddard broth- ers, who were boarding twelve hundred construction em- ployes, to furnish them with meat. the amount required was five buffaloes per day, to procure which involved hard riding, but the labor was small compared with the danger to be incurred from the indians who were killing every white man they could find in that section. never- theless, an offer of five hundred dollars per month for the service made billy unmindful of the exertion or peril, and he went to work under contract to supply all the meat required. during this engagement he had no end of won- derful escapes from bands of indians, not a few of whom he sacrificed to secure his own safety. by actual count he also killed, under his contract with the goddard broth- ers, four thousand two hundred and eighty buffaloes. to appreciate the extent of this slaughter, by approximate measurement, these buffaloes, if laid on the ground end to end, would make a line more than five miles long, and if placed sideways, on top of each other, they would make a pile over two miles high. by special arrangements all the heads of the largest buffaloes killed by bill were preserved and delivered to the k. p. railroad company, by which they were turned into excellent advertisements for the road. many of these heads may still be seen in prominent places marking the center of an oval board containing the advertisement of the road. so well had billy performed his part of the contract that the men connected with the kansas pacific road gave life of buffalo bill. him the appellation by which he is still known through- out the world, “ buffalo bill.” a record of all his battles with the indians during this period of professional hunting would be so long that few could read it without tiring, for there is a sameness connected with attacks and escapes which it is difficult to recite in language always sparkling with interest. but buffalo bill being a brave man under all circumstances when bravery is essential, and cautious when that element subserved the purpose better, was almost daily in a posi- tion of danger, and many times escaped almost like the hebrew children from the furnace. so justly celebrated had buffalo bill now become that kit carson, on his return from washington city in the fall of , stopped at hays city to make his acquaintance. carson was so well pleased with bill's appearance and excellent social qualifications that he remained for several days the guest of the celebrated buffalo killer and scout. upon parting, the renowned kit expressed the warmest admiration for his host and conveyed his consideration by inviting bill to visit him at fort lyon, colorado, where he intended making his home. but the death of carson the following may prevented the visit. like every other man who achieves distinction by su- perior excellence in some particular calling, buffalo bill (who had now shed the familiar title of billy), had his would-be rivals as a buffalo killer. among this number was a well-known scout named billy comstock, who sought to dispute the claim of champion. comstock was quite famous among the western army, being one of the oldest scouts and most skillful hunters. he was mur- dered by indians seven years after the event about to be recorded, while scouting for custer. buffalo bill was somewhat startled one day upon re- heroes of the plains. ceipt of a letter from a well-known army officer offering to wager the sum of $ that comstock could kill a greater number of buffaloes in a certain given time, under stipulated conditions, than any other man living. this was, of course, a challenge to buffalo bill, who, upon mentioning the facts, found hundreds of friends anxious to accept the wager, or who would have put up any amount that bill's claim to the championship could not be successfully disputed by any person living. the bet was promptly accepted, and the following conditions agreed to: a large herd of buffaloes being found, the two men were to enter the drove at eight o'clock, a. m., and employ their own tactics for killing un- til four o'clock, p. m., at the end of which time the one having killed the largest number was to be declared win- ner of the wager and also the “champion buffalo killer of america." to determine the result of the hunt, a referee was to accompany each of the hunters on horse- back and keep the score. the place selected for the trial was twenty miles east of sheridan, kansas, where the buffaloes were so plenti- ful that thousands could be found without difficulty, and the country being a level prairie rendered the hunt easy and afforded an excellent view for those who wished to witness the exciting contest. there was so much excitement created by a general publication of the match that when the day arrived several hundred visitors were present, among the crowd being an excursion party of one hundred people from st. louis, which was accompanied by buffalo bill's wife and youngest daughter. comstock was well mounted on a strong, spirited horse and carried a -calibre henry rifle. buffalo bill appeared on his famous horse, old brigham, and in this life of buffalo bill. he certainly had great advantage, for this sagacious ani- mal knew all about his rider's style of hunting buffaloes, and therefore needed no reining. the party rode out on the prairie at an early hour in the morning and soon discovered a herd of about one hundred buffaloes grazing on a beautiful stretch of ground just suited for the work in hand. the two hunt- ers rode rapidly forward accompanied by their referees, while the spectators followed a hundred yards in the rear. at a given signal the two contestants dashed into the center of the herd, dividing it so that bill took the right half while comstock pursued those on the left. now the sport began in magnificent style amid the cheers of excited spectators, who rode as near the contest- ants as safety and non-interference permitted. buffalo bill, after killing the first half-dozen stragglers in the herd, began an exhibition of his wonderful skill and strategy; by riding at the head of the herd and pressing the leaders hard toward the left, he soon got the drove to circling, killing those that were disposed to break off on a direct line. in a short time witnesses of this novel contest saw buffalo bill driving his portion of the herd in a beautiful circle and in less than half an hour he had all those in his bunch, numbering thirty-eight, lying around within a very small compass. comstock, in the meantime, had done some fine work, but by attacking the rear of his herd he had to ride di- rectly away from the crowd of anxious spectators. he succeeded in killing twenty-three which, however, lay ir- regularly over a space three miles in extent, and there- fore while he killed fewer than his rival, he at the same time manifested less skill, which, by contrast, showed most advantageously for buffalo bill. all the party having returned to the apex of a beauti- heroes of the plains. ful knoll, a large number of champagne bottles were pro- duced and amid volleys of flying corks toasts were drunk to the buffalo heroes, buffalo bill being especially lauded and now a decided favorite. but these ceremonies were suddenly interrupted by the appearance of another small herd of buffalo cows and calves, into which the two contestants charged precipi- tately. in this “round” bill scored eighteen, while comstock succeeded in killing only fourteen. the superiority of buffalo bill was now so plainly shown that his backers, as well as himself, saw that he could afford to give an exhibition of his wonderful horse- manship, while continuing the contest, without fear of losing the stakes. accordingly, after again regaling themselves with champagne and other appetizing acces- sories, the cavalcade of interested spectators' rode north- ward for a distance of three miles, where they discov- ered a large herd of buffaloes quietly browsing. the party then halted, and buffalo bill, removing both sad- dle and bridle from old brigham, rode off on his well- trained horse, directing him solely by motions of his hand. reaching the herd by circling and coming down upon it from the windward quarter, the two rival hunters rushed upon the surprised buffaloes and renewed the slaughter. after killing thirteen of the animals, buffalo bill drove one of the largest buffaloes in the herd toward the party, seeing which many ladies who were among the interested spectators became very much frightened, show- ing as much trepidation, perhaps, as they would have man- ifested had the buffalo been an enraged lion. but when the ponderous, shaggy-headed beast came within a few yards of the party bill shot it dead, thus giving a grand coup d'etat to the day's sport, which closed with this magnificent exhibition of skill and daring. buffalo bill wins the championship. life of buffalo bill. the day having now been far spent, and time called, it was found that the score stood thus: buffalo bill, sixty- nine ; comstock, forty-six. the former was therefore declared winner and entitled to the championship as the most skillful buffalo-slayer in america. chapter xii. after the great buffalo killing match the name of buffalo bill became familiar all over the country, and his exploits, generally, were a topic people never grew tired of discussing. all his great battles with the indians and valuable services as a scout were re-told, not only at the fireside, but also by the military operating in the west. he was beginning to be appreciated. in the spring of a violent indian war broke out in central and western kansas, which assumed such a serious aspect that gen. sheridan, in order to be on the field, took up his headquarters at hays city. directly after making this move the general sent for buffalo bill and in person tendered him a position as scout and guide, which was immediately accepted. he was then ordered to report to capt. parker, at fort larned, for services. knowing that he would be absent from home for a long time, he sent his wife and child to leavenworth, where he would have better opportunities of visiting them than elsewhere reaching ft. larned bill was appointed a special scout to gen. hazen who had just arranged for a trip to ft. sarah, thirty miles distant. near larned there were sev- eral bands of comanche and kiowa indians who had not heroes of the plains. yet joined their hostile brothers, but were seeking a pre- text for so doing, especially as the fort was garrisoned by only two companies of infantry and one of cavalry. the head chief of these restless comanches was satanta, an old villain who has since figured in texas outrages and been duly hanged according to a righteous law. gen. hazen started for ft. sarah in a six-mule wagon under an infantry escort of twenty men, with buffalo bill as guide. the trip was made in safety, but as the general concluded to go on to ft. harker without a guide, bill was ordered to return to larned. mounting his mule he was making good time toward the post, when about half way, near pawnee rock, forty indians came rushing down on him. instead of presenting their arms, however, they presented their hands, saying, “how ! how !" with such warmth of feeling that bill accepted their greeting, but instead of shaking his hand they jerked him with such violence that he was almost unseated, while others in the party grabbed the reins of his bridle and started to lead the mule off. bill was at an unreasonable disadvantage, but nevertheless he was ready for a fight regardless of the odds. fortunately for him, as it proved, when he at. tempted to draw his pistols one of the indians struck him a violent blow on the head with a tomahawk, render- ing him so nearly insensible that they easily disarmed and bound him. all this time the indians were howling their war cries and otherwise indicated their purpose of going on the war path, so that bill very naturally supposed he was to be one of their first victims. his captors led him for nearly two miles down a creek, where they reached another body of indians apparently in council. old satanta, whom bill knew by having seen once before, occupied the chief council seat, and be- fore this old veteran thief and murderer he was brought. life of buffalo bill. at this junoture a marvelously cunning expedient came to mind and was at once adopted by bill. he knew that the indians were nearly out of meat and were expecting a large herd of cattle which had already been promised them by gen. hazen. in reply, therefore, to the first in- quiries of satanta, bill, speaking in a very bold and osten- tatious manner, said: “i have been after a big heap lot “who-haws' for your people. why have your young warriors acted toward me like a pack of hungry coyotes?” this announcement caused the old rogue to change his facial expression from a demure, murderous look to a broad, happy grin; and after questioning the cunning scout until he had elicited more specious prevarications than can be heard in a turkish court, satanta tried to outlie bill by declaring that his young men had meant no. harm by their acts, intending only to have some sport by testing his bravery. he now asked bill to drive the cat- tle down to the opposite side of the creek where they could herd and graze them, proffering an indian escort if he desired. bill promptly told him that he needed no escort but would drive the cattle to the spot indicated, as that was in pursuance of instructions from gen. hazen. his mule having been returned to him bill mounted and rode toward the creek, reflecting on the excellent suc- cess of his expedient and the probability of being fol- lowed. the creek was quite broad but easily forded, so that it was no barrier to pursuit if the indians should suspect the falsity of his representations. upon reach- ing the opposite bank he was therefore very much alarmed at seeing a dozen of the indians riding toward him as if to determine the accuracy of his statements. it chanced that the land on that side of the creek which heroes of the plains. he had now gained was considerably depressed, so that af- ter passing over the bank he was hidden from view until the indians gained the apex. this advantage he used so well, by putting the mule at his highest rate of speed, that when the suspicious indians gained the bank's sum- mit he was fully one mile in advance and riding furiously toward ft. larned. upon seeing the fleeing scout there were no further grounds for suspecting his motives, so the indians, who were mounted on excellent ponies, dashed after him as though they were impelled by a promised reward of all the whisky and bacon in the big father's commissary for his scalp. bill was trying to save his hair and the indians were equally anxious to secure it, so that the ride prompted by these diametrically opposed motives was as furious as tam o'shanter's. after running over about three miles of ground bill turned his head only to be horrified with the sight of his pursuers gaining rapidly on him. he now sank the spurs a little deeper into his mule, let out another inch of the reins and succeeded in increasing the speed of his animal, which appeared to be sailing under a second wind. it was thus the chase continued to ash grove, four miles from ft. larned, at which point bill was less than half a mile ahead of the indians, who were trying to make line shots with him and his mule as the target. reach- ing pawnee fork he dashed into that stream and as he gained the opposite shore and was rounding a thick clump of trees he was rejoiced to meet denver jim, a promi- nent scout, in company with a private soldier, driving a wagon toward the post. a moment spent in explanation determined the three ambushing the indians. life of buffalo bill. >> men upon an ambush. accordingly, the wagon was hastily driven into the woods, and posting themselves at an advantageous point they awaited the appearance of the red-skinned pursuers. “look out!” said bill, “here they come, right over my trail.” true enough, the twelve painted warriors rode swiftly around the clump of brush, and the next instant there was a discharge of shots from the ambush which sent two indians sprawling on the ground, where they kicked out their miserable existence. the others saw the danger of their position, and making a big circle, rode rapidly back toward their war party. when the three men reached larned, buffalo bill and denver jim each displayed an indian scalp as trophies of a successful ambush, and at the same time apprised capt. parker of the hostile character of satanta and his tribe. on the following day about eight hundred warriors appeared before the fort and threatened to storm it, but being met with a determined front they circled around the post several times, keeping the soldiers inside until their village could move off. considerable fear was entertained at the fort, owing to the great number of hostile indians who practically invested it, and it was deemed by capt. parker as of the utmost importance to send dispatches to gen. sheridan, informing him of the situation. fort hays was sixty- five miles distant from fort larned, and as the country was fairly swarming with the worst kind of “ bad” indians, capt. parker tried in vain to find some one who would carry the dispatches, until the request was made of buffalo bill. this expedition was not within bill's line of duty, and presented dangers that would have caused the boldest man to hesitate ; but finding all the couriers absolutely refusing to perform the necessary heroes of the plains. service, he agreed to deliver the message, provided he could select the horse that he wanted to ride. of course this requirement was readily assented to, and at ten o'clock at night, during a terrible storm, the brave scout set out, knowing that he had to run a very gauntlet of hostiles, who would make many sacrifices if by so doing they could lift his coveted scalp. the profound darkness of the night afforded him some security from surprise, but his fears of riding into an in- dian camp were realized when he reached walnut creek. a barking dog was the first intimation of his position, but this was speedily followed by several indians pursu- ing him, being directed by the sounds of his horse's feet. by hard riding and good dodging, however, he eluded these, and meeting with no further mishap than being thrown over his horse's head by reason of the animal suddenly stepping into a gopher hole, he reached fort hays shortly after daylight and delivered the dispatches he carried before gen. sheridan had arisen from bed. after delivering the message bill went over to hays city, where he was well acquainted, and after taking some refreshments, lay down and slept for two hours. think- ing then that gen. sheridan might want to ask him some questions regarding the condition of affairs at larned, he returned to the fort and reported to him. he was some- what astonished to find that gen. sheridan was as anx- ious to send a dispatch to ft. dodge, ninety-five miles dis- tant, as capt. parker had been to communicate with his su- perior at ft. hays, and more surprised was he to find that of the numerous couriers and scouts at the fort not one could be induced to carry the general's dispatch, though the sum of five hundred dollars was offered for the ser- vice. seeing the quandary in which gen. sheridan was placed, bill addressed that official and said : life of buffalo bill. “well, general, i'll go over to the hotel and take a little more rest, and if by four o'clock you have not secured some one to carry your dispatches i will undertake to do it.” the general replied: “i don't like to ask so much of you, for i know you are tired, but the matter is of great importance and some one must perform the trip. i'll give you a fresh horse and the best at the fort if you'll undertake it." “all right, general, i'll be ready at four o'clock,” re- sponded bill, and he then went over to the hotel, but meeting with many friends and the “ irrigating” being good, he obtained only the rest that gay compan- ionship affords. at the appointed time bill was ready, and receiving the dispatches at the hands of gen. sheridan he mounted his horse and rode away for ft. dodge. after his departure there was much debate among the scouts who bade him good bye respecting the probability of his getting through, for the indians were thick along the whole route, and only a few days before had killed three couriers and several settlers. bill continued his ride all night, meeting with no inter- ruption, and by daylight the next morning he had reached saw-log crossing, on pawnee fork, which was seventy- five miles from ft. hays. a company of colored caval- ry under major cox was stationed here, and it being on the direct route to ft. dodge, bill carried a letter with him from gen. sheridan requesting major cox to furnish him with a fresh horse upon his arrival there. this the major did, so after partaking of a good breakfast, bill took his remount and continued on to dodge, which point he gained at ten o'clock in the morning, making the ninety-five miles in just eighteen hours from the time of starting heroes of the plains. ; the commanding officer at ft. dodge, after receiving the dispatches, remarked : “i am very glad to see you, cody, and i'll tell you that the trip just made is one of the most fortunate i know of. it is almost a miracle how you got through without having your body filled as full of holes as a pep- per box. the indians are swarming all around within fifty miles of here, and to leave camp voluntarily is al- most equal to committing suicide. i have been wanting to send a message to ft. larned for several days, but the trip is so dangerous that i can't find any one who will risk it, and i wouldn't blame the bravest man for re- fusing.” “well, major, as i didn't find any indians between here and hays, i think i might get through to larned in fact, i want to go back there and if you will furnish me with a good horse i'll try to carry your message. “i don't think it would be policy for you to make the trip now, especially since you have done so much hard riding already. besides, the best mount i could give you would be a government mule.” “ all right, major, i don't want the best, second best is good enough for me, so trot out your mule. i'll take a little nap and in the meantime have your hostler slick up the mule so he can slide through with me like a greased thunderbolt should the reds jump us. bill then went off, and after “ liquidating" in true western style, lay down in the major's quarters where he slept soundly until nearly five o'clock in the evening, when, having replenished his canteen, he mounted the pa- tient mule and set out for ft. larned, which was sixty- five miles east of ft. dodge. after proceeding as far as coon creek, which was nearly half way, bill dismounted for the purpose of get- >> life of buffalo bill. ting a drink of water. while stooping down the mule got frightened at something and jerked loose, nor did the stupid animal stop to consider how essential his service was to his rider, for he at once set off in a trot down the creek. in vain did bill coax the mule with promises of oats and green pastures ; the stupid descendant of ba- laam's admonisher could not be fooled with that sort of flattery, and the chagrined and weary scout had to follow in the rear, hoping that the animal would step on the loosened reins and thus check himself. but mile after mile did the dismounted and now infuriated scout follow that irritating mule. time and again did he decide to shoot the tantalizing animal, but the decision did not pre- vail against his better reason ; for though useless as a conveyance the mule still carried the saddle and bridle and it were better to make him bear the burden of these to ft. larned than attempt to carry them himself. thus the two traveled in the direction of ft. larned all night, both keeping in the main road despite the dan- ger which it threatened. in the morning just as the sun was peeping over the hazy hilltops bill and the mule reached a high knoll at the bottom of which lay the fort. now," said the scout to himself, “ i'm going to manage the rest of this journey, in as much as it is less than half a mile long,” and with this he raised his gun with venge- ful deliberation and fired a slug into the rear abutments of that incomparably malicious mule. one shot did not afford the complete satisfaction he desired, and it was really grateful to him to see the animal die so slowly. so much sin required a dreadful amount of atonement, and while the mule was in the atoning business it was expedi- ent that he should do as much of it as possible. so died the ass that looked back with scorn, and no man knoweth heroes of the plains. how much evil perished with him ; yea, even unto this day knoweth no man. after reaching larned-carrying the bridle and saddle himself-buffalo bill spent several hours in refreshing sleep, and when he awakened he found gen. hazen try- ing to induce some of the couriers to take his dispatches to gen. sheridan, at ft. hays. having been warmly and very justly praised for the long and perilous rides he had just completed, bill again proffered his services to perform the trip. at first gen. hazen refused to despatch him on the mission, saying, “this is like riding a free horse to death ; you have already ridden enough to kill any ordinary man, and i don't think it would be treating you properly to permit you to make this additional jour- ney.” . but when evening came and no other volunteer could be engaged, as a matter of last resort bill was given a good horse and the dispatches entrusted to him for trans- mission. it was after nightfall when he started on this last trip and by daylight the next morning he was in ft. hays, where he delivered the dispatches. gen. sheridan was profoundly astonished to see bill before him again in so short a time, and after being informed of his wonderful riding during the three days, the general pronounced it a feat that was never equaled, and even now gen. sheridan maintains that no other man could accomplish the same distance under similar circumstances. to this day the rides here described stand on record as the most remark- able ever made. they aggregated three hundred and fifty-five miles in fifty-eight riding hours, or an average of more than six miles an hour including an enforced walk of thirty-five miles. when it is considered that all this dis- tance was made during the night time and through a coun- try full of hostile indians, without a road to follow or a life of buffalo bill. bridge to cross the streams, the feat appears too incredu- lous for belief were it not for the most indisputable evi- dence, easily attainable, which makes disbelief impos- sible, chapter xiii. gen. sheridan was so favorably impressed by the self-sacrificing spirit and marvelous endurance of buffalo bill, and being already acquainted with his reputation as a brave man and superior fighter, that he called the noted scout to his headquarters directly after receiving major hazen's dispatches, and said : cody, i have ordered the fifth cavalry to proceed against the dog soldier indians who are now terrorizing the republican river district, and as the campaign will be a very important one i want a first-class man to guide the expedition. from my brief acquaintance with you i am convinced that you are the person best suited for this service. i have therefore decided to appoint you guide and also chief of scouts of the command. i hope the place will be acceptable to you, for it is particularly de- sirable that the very best guide and scout should fill this position, and i am frank to say i have thorough confi- dence in your abilities.” giving his big sombrero a careless whirl on his left hand, bill answered in his usual indifferent manner: “ i thank you, general, for this compliment; i am al- ways ready to execute your orders, and if you consider me the best man for the place, why, then, i'm off without ceremony.” heroes of the plains. only two days before this occurrence a body of twenty scouts, under gen. forsythe, had returned from the re- publican river, where they had been engaged in one of the most desperate battles ever fought with the indians. the original force of the scouts was fifty men, but being corraled by five hundred indians on the arickaree they had to fight this overpowering number from breastworks made of their dead mules for a period of six days. in order to sustain life they fed on the bodies of their dead animals, and when at last relieved by a detachment of cavalry under col. carpenter, there were only twenty of the original number left, the others having been killed outright or died from neglected wounds. on the third of october, nearly a week after buffalo bill's appointment, the fifth cavalry arrived at ft. hays, where he was directly introduced to the officers and it was but a short time before he had won the friendship and admiration of them all. in two days after their arrival the regiment was put upon the march, going by the most direct route toward the infested country. the transportation facilities com- prised seventy-five six mule wagons, with a full comple- ment of ambulances, the whole outfit when stretched out on the prairie making a caravan most imposing in ap- pearance. during the first four days of marching no indians were seen and nothing occurred beyond the usual inci- dents of camp-life; but on the evening of october th, as the command was preparing to go into camp on the saline river, when all the horses were unsaddled and the wagons corraled, the regiment was surprised by several hundred indians who rushed down from neighboring hills upon the unprepared expedition and created great excite- ment. a cordon of men was quietly thrown around the life of buffalo bill. wagons to protect the camp and afford time for the troops to get their horses readv and mount. the indians cir- “ hi-yi-yip-yah.”—the attack, cled around the bustling command, assuming various atti- tudes on their ponies and shooting at the same time, but heroes of the plains. they were met with such an effective fire from the cordon that they retreated, leaving several dead bodies on the field. buffalo bill was the first mån to get his horse in readiness, and mounting in advance of all the rest, led the van several hundred yards in pursuing the indians, two of whom he killed and wounded the horse of another. feeling safe from attack now, the regiment returned to camp, intending to follow the trail made by the attacking party early the next morning. it was scarcely daylight when the command was put in motion, following the trail sharply, which led to the south fork of solomon river, where it scattered. here the expedition went into camp again, and as it was scarcely yet three o'clock, p. m., col. royal requested bill to take a short circuit over the prairie and try to kill a few buffaloes, as their fresh meat supply was almost exhausted. “ all right,” responded bill, send a wagon along with me to haul in the carcasses." “it is not a custom of mine to count profits before beginning business. kill your game first, and then i'll send out the wagons," the colonel replied. without saying anything more, bill mounted his horse and rode away toward the north, unaccompanied. after an absence of nearly two hours, some of the soldiers discerned a number of moving things, evidently advanc- ing toward them. closer and closer came the singular objects, until at last there was discovered a horseman, riding in the rear of six large terror-stricken buffaloes. in another moment the animals had charged directly into camp, where they were shot down by bill. col. royal, hearing the agitation outside his tent, rushed up to bill, who he discovered was the cause of the excitement, and vigorously embellishing his language, life of buffalo bill. inquired by what authority he had aroused so much con- fusion in the camp. in a most lugubriously penitential way bill replied : “i didn't mean any harm, colonel ; but as you wouldn't send out a wagon to haul in my game, i thought it would be an accommodation to you if i made the buf- faloes furnish their own conveyance. allow me to pre- sent you with some choice tongues." the colonel could not face this ingenious reply, and his anger was at once succeeded by a hearty laugh ; nor did he refuse the buffalo tongues proffered him by the seem- ingly reckless hunter. the expedition resumed its march on the following day, but reached buffalo tank on saline river without meeting any more indians. here the command was turned over to gen. e. a. carr who had been sent out from ft. hays with the forsythe scouts. upon pro- ceeding to beaver creek a large, fresh indian trail was discovered, which being followed for a distance of eight miles brought about two hundred indians in view, who occupied a position on the bluffs. company m was or- dered forward, which being commanded by an impetuous and daring french lieutenant named schinosky, the in- dians were driven over the bluffs for more than a mile. suddenly they were reinforced and company m. found itself fighting over four hundred red-skins without the least protection. it looked for a short while as if there were no escape from the murderous fire poured upon them by the indians. buffalo bill hearing the rapid fir- ing over the bluffs, knew there was desperate work be- ing done, and he sped away in advance of the main com- mand which was hurrying up to schinosky's assistance. gaining the environment, he shot two indians and then wheeling back he returned to headquarters and so accu- heroes of the plains. rately described the position of the savages that gen. carr moved two companies so as to surround the enemy, when a combined attack was made with such fury that the battle was soon ended. the indians being repulsed fell back with the soldiers pursuing until a second force of about six hundred war- riors came into view, who had been in reserve to protect their village, while the others deployed to bring the sol- diers into an ambush. but the cavalry force was much greater than the indians had anticipated, and after mak- ing two insignificant charges they precipitately retreated, night was now rapidly approaching and gen. carr or- dered the tired soldiers into camp, where a good rest was necessary for the movements of the morrow. on the following day the expedition raised camp at an early hour and taking up the trail where they left it at the village, pushed forward so rapidly that about three o'clock they sighted a large force of indians who turned back the moment they were discovered and gave battle. but they fought very shy, their purpose being to check the cavalry advance so as to permit their village to es- cape. finding that a battle front would not serve their purpose, they set the dry prairie grass on fire, but it was too short to burn rapidly. a running fight continued until the occupants of the village had abandoned all their more cumbersome materials, such as lodge-poles, kettles, robes, bedding, etc. they now traveled much more rapidly, so that the troops rarely came within gun-shot distance. the pursuit continued for three days until the indians had scattered so badly that it was impossible for an army to follow them any longer. having abandoned pursuit of the dog soldier indians the expedition set out for the headwaters of beaver creek. life of buffalo bill. after traveling about thirty-five miles gen. carr rode for- ward until he overtook buffalo bill, who as guide and chief of scouts, was riding considerably in advance of the command, and addressing him said: cody, all the forsyth scouts declare you are going in the wrong direction, and also that we are not likely to strike any water to-day by proceeding on this route; that if you should strike any of the branches of the beaver you would certainly find them dry at this season.” beaver creek—the trapper's elysian. bill answered: “i've been over this country several times, general, and notwithstanding what the other scouts say, i think we will find plenty of good water within eight miles of here, and that we are making direcdly for the point you wish to reach.” “all right; but remember that the matter is too serious to admit of mistakes; the responsibility is now all your own,” and so saying general carr rode back to the com- mand. heroes of the plains. after marching seven miles further the forsyth scouts again declared that they were wandering in the wrong di- rection, but notwithstanding their forebodings, within the distance asserted by bill a beautiful stream of water was discovered purling along the ravines, almost hidden by the trees which lined its banks. a level, grassy spot having been selected, about four o'clock in the evening everything was put in preparation for camping in an enemy's coun- try. this stream, which was a branch of beaver river, having no location on the then existing maps, was named by gen. carr cody's creek in honor of his distinguished guide, a name by which it is now known on all the topo- graphical maps of kansas. on the following morning cainp was broken early and the march toward beaver creek resumed. buffalo bill, as was his custom, had ridden nearly a quarter of a mile ahead of the command, and first striking the beaver at a wide point was riding along the bank seeking a safe cross- ing. as he emerged from a thick covert in a bend of the creek he suddenly confronted a party of indians who fired on him, shooting his horse dead. bill was taken by such complete surprise that as his horse fell he went tumbling headlong into a thicket, from which it took some moments to extricate himself. as he arose another volley of bul- lets came zipping into his retreat, but bringing his faith- ful rifle into position he shot one of the indian's ponies and held the whole party at bay until the command reached him. company i, under lieutenant brady, was sent in pursuit of the indians, and being accompanied by bill, who had been furnished with another horse, a lively battle was soon precipitated. but the indians beat a retreat, followed by the soldiers, who succeded in killing several and capturing a large quantity of indian equip- age. life of buffalo bill. the expedition continued beating the skirts of beaver creek for some days, but finding no more indians, and supplies running short, gen. carr ordered the command to fort wallace, where it remained for several days. during this period of quiet, bill amused himself by pursuing his favorite sport, buffalo and antelope shooting. having met with uniform success on these hunts, three of the other scouts concluded to accompany him, and the party, all being excellent marksmen, a wagon was given them to haul in their game. the quartette of hunters had proceeded seven or eight miles from the fort, when they discovered a large herd of buffaloes, running rapidly toward beaver creek. pursuit was, of course, given, and the sport became so exciting that the hunters took no concern or thought of danger until they discovered about fifty indians bearing down on them, shutting off a retreat toward wallace. the boys saw they were in for a hard fight, and bill, being recognized as a boss fighter and stayer, was looked to for advice. “ make for that ravine ; if we reach that in time we can stand them off for a while anyhow." this was his first order, and it was obeyed with such alacrity that the party not only reached the ravine, but had also dismounted in time to send such a destructive volley into the charging indians that four were unseated. this checked the advance, but only for a moment, when they again came pouring down upon the hunters, yelling like the materialized spirits of hades. but again the repeating guns of the four brave hunters played upon them so disastrously that the indians fell back. rally- ing, however, after a council of several minutes, they made another charge, coming so close this time that one of the hunters was wounded and three of their horses heroes of the plains. were killed. but the attack was again successfully re- pulsed, with such loss to the indians that they retreated, and riding rapidly due north were seen no more. the four hunters had reason to rejoice at the victory they had won, but though they had only three sound horses and a wounded companion, the hunt was not yet abandoned. another herd of buffaloes being found, the wounded man remained in the wagon, while the others set off after the game, and killed as many as their means of transportation justified. having now succeeded as both fighters and hunters, the party returned to the fort with trophies of their adventures and received well- deserved compliments from gen. carr for their deeds. chapter xiv. after leaving fort wallace, gen. carr's forces were ordered to winter along the canadian river, in which portion of the country indians were occasionally com- mitting depredations. proceeding, therefore, to fort lyon, the command was duly equipped for the approach- ing season, and then set out, intending to overtake and consolidate with gen. penrose, who had departed toward camp supply three weeks previously. buffalo bill was especially anxious for the consolidation, because wild bill, his old friend, was gen. penrose's chief of scouts. winter was now near at hand, and reaching freeze out cañon, they found the snow so deep that it was almost impossible to march through it. to overcome this obsta- cle the command, as far as practicable, was put to work shoveling and beating a roadway for the teams, which life of buffalo bill. were brought through only with the greatest difficulty. after a very long march, full of hardships and suffer- ings, gen. penrose's camp was found on the palodora in a most distracted condition. their provisions had long been exhausted and life had been sustained by eat- ing the carcasses of their draught animals. after a lib- eral distribution of rations among the famishing men, wild bill and buffalo bill covenanted together for a good time of their own, to accomplish which they tapped a beer train which was being driven through by a party of mexicans to camp evans to trade to the soldiers at that point, which was only twelve miles from the palodora station. indulging to their full capacity, the soldiers were not forgotten, and there was hilarity in canıp of the most in- spiriting character, changing all factious grumbling into a hearty good time, in this sense proving a positive ben- efit to the two suffering commands. arriving at camp evans, wild bill was despatched to camp supply, two hundred miles distant, and the armies settled in tempo- rary quarters to await his return. the trip was made in an almost incredibly short time, his celerity being due to orders from supply informing gens. penrose and carr of black kettle's depredations on the wachita, and order- ing them to pursue him. following out these instructions the consolidated commands moved rapidly along the cimarron until they discovered the indians, when a ter- rific battle immediately ensued. in this fight buffalo bill and wild bill did almost the work of a regiment; braver men never went into an action, both fighting as though they were invulnerable, in the fury and rout which followed the first charge wild bill gave chase to black kettle, head chief of the cheyennes engaged, and overtaking the fleeing red war- heroes of the plains. > rior, stabbed him to death. but the accomplishment of this heroic action would have cost him his own life had not buffalo bill ridden with impetuous daring into the very midst of fully fifty indians who had surrounded wild bill intent on either his capture or death. these two daring and intrepid scouts plunged furiously into the midst of the indians, each with a revolver in either hand, and literally carved their way through the surging mass of red skins, leaving a furrow of dead indians in their wake. such fighting, such riding, and such marvelous intrepidity combined, were doubtless never equaled, and if but this act alone could be credited to the valor of wild bill and buffalo bill their names would deserve inscription on fame's enduring monument. having broken the strength of the cheyennes, killed their famous chief and captured so many of their best warriors, gen. carr, who was chief in command of the consolidated forces, returned toward camp supply, but owing to heavy snows it was considered more advisable to pitch their tents on the canadian river, especially as the country abounded with game. during this latter encampment a serious feud was cre- ated between fifteen mexican scouts with gen. penrose's command and an equal number of american scouts en- gaged with gen. carr. what provoked this nationalized quarrel was buffalo bill's appointment as chief of the combined force of scouts, with wild bill as assistant. the quarrel increased in bitterness from hour to hour until at length one day, while the opposing forces were congregated before the sutler's store, the long anticipated fight was precipitated by buffalo bill knocking one of the insulting mexicans an honest furlong. a moment after he was attacked by the entire force of mexican scouts, whom he fought with great success, but was not sitiliste buffalo bill in close quarters. heroes of the plains. accompanied by green, jack farley and another scout whose name cannot be recalled. the party was led by green to the spot where high grass had prevented him from following it further, and then bill began a search- ing investigation for hoof prints. these he found, and taking up the trail where green had lost it, followed on for several miles until he reached a thick clump of timber, where he found numerous evidences of a recent corral of horses. but singularly enough, not a single hoof print could be discovered leading in any direction from the corral. “well, boys,” said bill, "we are after experienced horse thieves; that i know, because of the perfect man- ner in which their trail is covered. we've got to divide up here and each man make a five-mile circuit, coming together again at this place to report.” the men immediately diverged in search of the hidden trail, which bill found in the sand hills, and discovered that the thieves were moving with eight horses and four mules. the party having met again as agreed, they started out on the rediscovered trail and followed it with- out difficulty to denver, reaching a point four miles from that town on thursday. “we have got to stop here," remarked bill, because i know that the thieves are in denver, and as saturday is the great horse sales day in that place, we will wait here until friday night so as to avert suspicion, and catch them when the horses are put up for sale." early on saturday morning bill rode into denver with his three assistants and put up at the elephant corral, overlooking the yard where all the auction horse sales were made. after taking a survey of his position he walked out into the yard, where he soon had the pleasure of seeing one of the old packers in gen. carr's command life of buffalo bill. ride into the corral on a racing mule, belonging to lieut. forbush, and leading another. bill waited for several minutes, expecting to see the thief's confederate put in an appearance, but as the mule was being bid on action could no longer be deferred. pushing through the crowd, bill approached the thief, who, recognizing him, attempted to escape, but the keen- eyed scout divined his intention, and seizing him, cried : “ stop, or i'll have to kill you here ; come along with me.' this action was a surprise to those attending the auc- tion, and they demanded an explanation, which being given, the thief, whose name was williams, was taken off three miles down the platte river. here, having found a dense thicket suited for their purposes, bill pre- pared a noose with which he intended to hang williams if he refused to reveal the whereabouts of his confed- erates. seeing that his captors were in earnest, williams made a complete disclosure of his operations, telling the party that he had but one partner in the horse-stealing enter- prise, and that he might be found at a deserted cabin about four miles further down the river. the rope was now taken down from the limb which suspended it, and taking williams along with them, the party proceeded on down the river until the place they had been directed to was reached. at the moment green discovered the old cabin, bill's alert eyes fell on ten head of the stolen horses, all tethered and grazing close about the house. as the party rode up, the occupant, hearing unusual noises, came to the door with pistol in hand. but bill's rifle instantly covered him and the command, “ throw up your hands, bevins, or i'll kill you,” made the thief yield at once. heroes of the plains. this confederate of williams', whose name was bev- ins, had also been a packer in gen. carr's expedition and was well-known to buffalo bill, and, it may be added, he also knew bill, and it was this mutual recog- nition which convinced the thief how useless it would be to make any show of resistance. a search of the old cabin resulted in the recovery of several saddles, lariets, blankets, and two henry rifles. all the recovered horses and mules were then tied to- gether, and with williams and bevins well secured, the party returned to denver. passing one night in that place they started out for ft. lyon, making seventeen miles the first day and camping at cherry creek. notwithstanding it was late in april the weather was very cold, and a big fire was made up before which all but a single guard lay down to sleep. at one o'clock in the morning it began to snow quite hard and an increase of covering was necessary. the prisoners were apparently sound asleep, and there being a constant guard it was not deemed necessary to tie them. at three o'clock, while farley was on watch, bevins, seizing upon the opportunity, struck the guard a violent blow and leaping over the fire sped swiftly away. the noise awakened cody just as williams started to join his companion, but bill knocked him down and then sent an ineffectual shot after the escaping thief. in the flight bevins accidently dropped one of his shoes and was therefore barefooted, a condition which put him at great disadvantage in the pursuit which followed. leaving williams in charge of farley and the other scout, bill and green quickly saddled their horses and set out after bevins. they found his trail hard to fol- low in the darkness, but had no difficulty after daylight, owing to the imprints in the snow. after going several life of buffalo bill. miles the blood stains clearly showed that the fugitive's unprotected foot was being lacerated by the sharp stones and prickly-pears, but notwithstanding this he was mak- ing fast time. the pursuers had traveled rapidly for more than twelve miles before they came in sight of the fleeing thief, on a ridge, near the platte river. bill commanded him to halt, under pain of being shot, and knowing who was handling the rifle drawn on him, bevins at once sat down and be- gan pulling the sharp needles from his terribly lacerated feet. taking their recaptured prisoner back to the cher- ry creek branch (bill allowing bevins to ride his own horse out of compassion for the painful condition of his feet), the party took up their march again toward ft. lyon. on the following night williams made his escape while the scout whose name is not remembered was on duty, and though earnest pursuit was given he was not recap- tured. with the remaining prisoner the party reached ft. lyon, and after turning over the recovered stock to gen. carr, bevins was placed in charge of the civil authorities. he was confined in a log jail at boggs' ranch, from which he escaped in a few days, just as bill had predicted. in , however, bevins was captured again, together with several other notorious outlaws of his gang who had been robbing stage coaches in the country north of the union pacific railroad, and he is now serving a life sentence in the nebraska penitentiary. heroes of the plains. chapter xv. it was only a few days after buffalo bill's arrival at ft. lyon with the stolen horses and his prisoner, that the fifth cavalry was ordered to proceed to ft. mcpherson, in nebraska, for operations in the department of the platte. the command prepared for the march at once, bill taking the advance and maintaining it throughout the entire journey. after marching several days the regi- ment approached the valley drained by the north fork of beaver creek where cody discovered fresh and numerous indian signs from which he estimated there were not less than four hundred lodges, or three thousand indians, in the immediate vicinity. riding back to gen. carr he requested him to halt in the valley and wait until he could reconnoitre and locate the savages. accordingly lieut. ward, with twelve men, was sent out on the trail with bill and followed it along the creek bank for a distance of twelve miles. then leaving their horses, bill and the lieutenant crawled carefully to the apex of a high knoll, from which point of observation they discovered a very large indian village not more than three miles distant, while to the left less than half a mile was an indian hunt- ing party riding ponies heavily laden with buffalo meat. examination convinced the two white men that their position was not particularly safe, as the indians seemed to be running in every direction. bill hastily wrote a dispatch which he gave to lieutenant ward, asking its immediate transmission to gen. carr. one of the sola diers was detailed for the purpose, but he had ridden back less than a mile when several shots were heard and soon the dispatch courier was seen riding for life around the bend of the creek, closely pursued by five indians. life of buffalo bill. bill and the lieutenant, followed by the soldiers, dashed out after the red-skins and giving a well-directed volley, killed one of them and drove the others across the creek. as the badly scared messenger came up to the party, bill said sharply: buffalo bill tries a shot at long range. “ lieutenant, give me that dispatch, i'll carry it through,” and taking the message, he rode rapidly to- ward the regiment, but had proceeded only a short dis- tance when he discovered a dozen indians carrying buf- falo meat on their ponies. in order to make them be- heroes of the plains. lieve he was accompanied by a large force, bill acted on the aggressive and delivered a shot at long range. the indians at first showed no inclination to fight, but seeing only one man they cut loose their burdens and dashed after the bold scout. but pursuit on already jaded po- nies was useless, and bill, after drawing them as far as pos- sible, dashed off, leaving the indians far behind and get- ting safely into camp, delivered the message to gen. carr. eight companies were instantly ordered to saddle up, the other two being left in charge of the train. they rode swiftly to the relief of lieutenant ward, but met him returning, within three miles of camp; he reported an engagement with fifteen indian hunters, one of whom he had killed, and wounded one pony. the companies kept straight on, however, and after going two miles further they met a force of one thousand indians, pre- pared for battle, approaching up the creek. gen. carr ordered an immediate charge, accompany- ing the order with instructions to break through the line of indians and charge on to the village without stopping. the french lieutenant, schinosky, unfortunately, failed to comprehend the order, and instead of charging through with the command, vigorously attacked the in- dians' left flank, where he was quickly surrounded by a large body of the enemy with every assurance of being annihilated. gen. carr discovered schinosky's danger barely in time to charge back to his rescue. but in this fiasco several soldiers and horses were killed and the in- dian village given time to get so far away that further pursuit was impracticable that day, which was already nearly spent. couriers had been sent back, ordering the detail of two companies to follow up with the supply train, but as they life of buffalo bill. lid not appear it was gravely feared that they had been surrounded by indians and were either besieged or had fallen victims to a terrible fate. it became necessary therefore to return to the camp. singularly enough, this order had been also misunderstood, and the night was spent in beaver valley. on the following day pursuit was renewed and kept up for two days, when a war party was again discovered by an advance company, and some lively fighting ensued. the indians were now pressed so hard that they threw away all their camp utensils and equipage and left behind them several head of exhausted ponies. as a last resort, the village separated, taking so many different trails that pursuit was given over and the command went on to fort mcpherson, to prepare for another expedition along the republican river. while encamped at mcpherson the command was rein- forced by three hundred pawnee scouts, under command of major frank j. north, one of the best executive officers, as well also as one of the bravest men that ever carved a route through the great west. in this connec- tion i cannot help indulging what i know will be a par- donable degression, in order that some of the qualities of this brave officer may be at least alluded to. major north, though born in new york, march , , is nevertheless a thoroughly western man in all his training. his father removed from new york to nebraska, settling near columbus, in the winter of - , and directly thereafter was frozen to death at emi- grant crossing, on big pappillion creek, while trying to secure wood for his suffering family. shortly after the death of his father young north joined a party of trappers, mcmurray, glass and mes- senger, and began taking beaver and otter on the tribu- heroes of the plains. taries of platte river, but meeting with indifferent suc- cess, returned to columbus and engaged in anything that promised remuneration, as the family was almost entirely dependent on him for support. in , being now twenty years of age, frank pro- cured employment with agent depuy, at the pawnee indian reservation. here, while performing his other duties, he acquired such a thorough knowledge of the maj. frank j. north. pawnee language that in the following year he was engaged as interpreter by mr. rudy, son-in-law of the indian commissioner. at the breaking out of the sioux war in , gen. curtis, commanding the sixteenth and twelfth kansas cavalry, commissioned mr. north to organize the paw- nee scouts, who were not only friendly to the govern- life of buffalo bill. ment but inveterate foes of the sioux. under this au- thority he enlisted seventy-seven young warriors and organized a company of which he was made first lieutenant. this was the first enlistment ever made of indians for regular government service, and while lieut. north is entitled to this honor, it is with regret i have to add that he never received a cent for his services, neither did his indian warriors receive any pay, though they were promised by gen. curtis, upon enlistment, that they should receive the same as cavalrymen. in the latter part of october following, acting under orders from gen. custer, lieut. north enlisted one hun- dred more pawnee warriors, who were then equipped like the regular cavalry, and north was commissioned captain. on the thirteenth of january, , the company was mustered into service, the delay being due to difficulties regarding their acceptance by the government, but when regularly put on the muster rolls capt. north began ac- tive operations. learning of depredations being made by the sioux in the neighborhood of julesburg, he took forty of his pawnees and proceeded directly to the scene of trouble. on the route to julesburg he was horrified to find the bodies of no less than fourteen white persons, pilgrims on their way to pike's peak, mutilated beyond recognition; their scalps torn off, tongues cut out, legs cut open and bodies full of arrows. julesburg had also been attacked and the garrison was on the point of yield- ing when rescued. north now pushed after the sioux with all possible speed, and meeting with twenty-eight of the incarnate devils, he fell upon them with such irresist- ible force that not a single sioux in the party escaped his vengeance. these indians whom north had thus annihilated were heroes of the plains. a predatory band from red cloud's forces, and had done an inestimable amount of damage through the section they had invaded. only a few days previous to their disastrous meeting with capt. north, this same party had suddenly attacked lieutenant collins, with fourteen men, and killed the entire party. shortly after this successful sortie captain north was ordered to pursue a body of twelve cheyennes and pun- ish them for atrocities committed in the neighborhood of ft. sedgwick. taking twenty of his pawnees he got on the cheyenne trail and after following it about thirty miles, came up with the enemy whom he found in line of battle. at the first volley, however, the cheyennes fled, followed hard by capt. north. in this pursuit the pawnees were unable to keep up with their captain, as their horses were too badly jaded to endure extra riding ; capt. north, however, was mounted on a superior animal, and being full of desperate pluck, was deter- mined to kill one cheyenne at least. looking back, at length, he saw his men fully a mile behind him, and sev- eral of them dismounted. realizing the danger of his position, he took deliberate aim and fired at the chey- ennes, one of whom tumbled from his pony dead. at this the other indians turned on the captain and he was compelled to flee for his life. the indians rode rapidly after him, shooting con- stantly, until a bullet struck the captain's horse in the side, rendering him unfit for further travel. leaping to the ground, captain north used his horse for a breast-. work, from which he fired until the position had become too dangerous. he then started to run, but after getting several yards he remembered the two holsters on the saddle, each containing a loaded revolver, and he boldly returned for these. with these pistols he fought the life of buffalo bill. (heyennes nearly half an hour longer, and until relieved ly lieut. small. this fight, one of the most daring ever made, is still spoken of, and the story frequently told over and over again among western men, who almost reverence the name of frank j. north. at the conclusion of the tongue river campaign in - , the pawnees were mustered out of service and captain north was appointed post trader at the pawnee reservation, where he spent the winter of - . in march following, while acting under the orders of gen. auger, captain north raised a battalion of two hundred pawnees, who were divided into four companies and taken to fort kearney, where they were equipped for cavalry service. he was then given a major's com- mission, and with his indian soldiers guarded construc- tion trains on the union pacific railroad until its com- pletion to ogden. in this service he was engaged almost constantly with depredating sioux and cheyennes, who descended on the construction trains at every opportu- nity. after the road had reached utah, large shipments of silver were being made almost weekly, and as this precious metal was brought into stations in large bricks, which, for want of other storage, was usually piled up on and about the platforms to await shipment, major north’s indians had also to perform the duty of guarding the precious metal. when the road was completed, major north retired to a ranche on dismal river, sixty-five miles north of north platte, where he went into the cattle raising business. he needed some quiet occupation, because of a disease- asthma—which had been slowly sapping his existence for several years and which he had lost all hope of re- lieving. buffalo bill, after his first meeting with major ciorth at fort mcpherson, served with him on several heroes of the plains. campaigns, and in this service a very warm friendship sprang up between them, which led to the formation of a copartnership in the cattle ranche on dismal river, which still continues. the firm of cody & north is known among cattle men in every part of america ; they now have seven thousand head of cattle and four hun- fisield listen zc hen tec moss angecoenaye silver bricks awaiting shipment. dred head of horses, and to every one who calls at the dismal ranche there is a hearty, white man's welcome. major north, aside from his reputation as an indian fighter and brave man, is a gentleman of the most gen- erous and noble instincts; popular with all classes, and a friend honest and honorable to the end. life of buffalo bill. returning to the regular narrative, buffalo bill remain- ed at ft. mcpherson for several days, during which time he made the acquaintance of all the officers of that post, among whom was lieut. geo. p. belden, the “ white chief,” whose wonderful adventures have been so graph- ically recited in a large work written by gen. james s. brisbin, u. s. a. belden, being a crack rifle-shot and having heard much concerning buffalo bill's skill, became anxious for a con- test in order that the excellence of their marksmanship might be determined. it was therefore scarcely an hour after they were introduced to each other before belden had challenged bill for a rifle match, which was as prompt- ly accepted. the terms and arrangements were that they should first shoot ten shots at a distance of two hun- dred yards, without rest, for fifty dollars a side. fol- lowing this should be another match at one hundred yards on the same terms. buffalo bill won the first wager on an excellent margin, but belden brought up his averages well by winning the second match, and with this stand off the crowd of spectators pronounced them both such supe- rior shots that neither could be beaten. gen. carr, before leaving mcpherson, desired to man- ifest his appreciation of the valuable services rendered him by buffalo bill, and as the command was soon to start on another long expedition, it occurred to him that it would be an honor and excellent service to the army at the same time to have buffalo bill appointed chief of scouts in the department of the platte. accordingly gen. carr made the necessary recommendation to gen. auger who at once issued the commission, allowing bill a large increase of pay over the amount he received as chief of scouts in the department of missouri. this rec- ognition of his services greatly pleased the heroic scout, heroes of the plains. especially as the appointment was made without his solic- itation or knowledge that it was even thought of. it was late in the summer when the command started on an expedition through the republican river country, and the heat interfered somewhat with its progress. it was certainly an interesting, as well as laughable, sight to see major north’s pawnees equipped for cavalry service. to quote from the autobiography of buffalo bill: “the pawnee scouts were also reviewed, and it was very amus- ing to see them in their full regulation uniform. they had been furnished with a regular cavalry unif rm, and on this parade some of them had their heavy overcoats on, others their large black hats, with all the brass accoutre- ments attached; some of them were minus pantaloons and only wore a breech-clout. others wore regulation pantaloons but no shirt, and were bareheaded; others again had the seat of their pantaloons cut out, leaving only leggins; some wore brass spurs, but had neither boots nor moccasins. with all this melange of oddity they understood the drill remarkably well for indians. the commands, of course, were given to them in their own language by major north, who could talk it as well as any full blooded pawnee." after the expediticn had been moving for several days they approached near the month of beaver creek, where, the day being far advanced, the command went into camp. a herd of the draught mules was driven down to a convenient watering place several hundred yards from the camp; as the herd was drinking, : party of fifty sioux made a rapid descent on the herders, one of whom they shot and then stampeded tho miles. buffalo bill instantly leaped on his horse, bare-backed, and started for the scene of trouble, regardless of indians or thought of danger. as he dashed down through the life of buffalo bill. woods he was astonished to see the pawnees come flying by him, whooping, and in red-hot pursuit of their im- placable enemies. the sioux had seen the men go into camp but had not the remotest suspicion that any paw- nees were present. they therefore considered it fun to make a sortie on the herd, stampede the mules and do other damage, and then flee away before the cavalry could get ready to follow them. the pawnees, however, unlike regular soldiers, did not wait for orders, but see- ing a band of sioux their enmity overleaped the bounds of discipline and they were bound to fight, which they did over a distance of fifteen miles, killing more than a dozen of the sioux. after this little skirmish the expedition continued the march up beaver and prairie dog rivers, but finding only small bands of apparently harmless indians, at the end of twenty days the command returned to ft. mcpherson. this expedition, though proving of little advantage to the army, resulted most advantageously to buffalo bill, as it was the running fight at the mouth of the beaver that threw into his way « old buckskin joe,'' a horse which afterward gained great notoriety in connection with bill's exploits. chapter xvi. the command under gen. carr did not remain long inactive at ft. mcpherson, for within one day after their return news was received of fresh depredations on re- publican river, and the restless spirit of the troops, who were anxious to accomplish something more glorious than heroes of the plains. marches and counter marches, was sufficient excuse for the general to order them into the field again. the command moved westward up the republican, preceded by two companies of pawnees under major north. reaching black tail deer fork the expedition went into camp, but before the shadows of night had fallen, the pawnees, who had not been heard from for some days, came riding down the winding stream toward camp, yelling their victorious exultations, and waving many reeking scalps above their heads. after they had alighted the information was speedily acquired, that maj. north and his pawnees had run into a foraging party of sioux, several of whom they had killed. but a much larger body, composing in fact an extensive village, was discovered traveling northward, which being too strong for the pawnees to attack, maj. north had ordered a quick return to the camp for the purpose of forming a junction and entering upon a pursuit. on the following morning the troops were put in mo- tion, buffalo bill, with a squad of six pawnees, taking the lead and going ahead far enough to warn the com- mand, by courier, should the indians be discovered, thereby giving ample time to prepare for a charge. the sioux trail was followed for two days, when, pass- ing several dying camp fires, each showing a more recent kindling, bill was admonished that he was rapidly gain- ing on the moving village. coming, at length, to the sand hills, a careful and cautious survey discovered the indians encamped at summit springs. bill immediately posted his pawnee squad and rode back to gen. carr, who was ten miles in the rear, with report of the sioux position. there was much bustle among the troops when the or- der was issued to “ tighten saddles.” every cavalryman life of buffalo bill. knew what that order meant, and the pawnees under major north could scarcely be constrained. everything having been put in readiness, the command pushed for- ward rapidly after buffalo bill, who led the way in a sharp gallop. reaching within a mile of the unsuspecting sioux, bill changed horses, mounting his reliable “ buckskin joe,” which had given substantial evidence of being the swiftest horse with gen. carr's expedition. he then told the general to follow after him and he would lead the command between the village and south platte river, by which movement the intervening hills would enable them to approach so near as to give the indians a complete surprise. buffalo bill's suggestions were adopted, and with such success that the charge was not sounded until the entire command was within a thousand yards of the indians, who were just preparing to move on, most of their horses being already in readiness. for a moment the sioux seemed to be struck dumb with astonish- ment at beholding such an array of cavalry bearing down upon them. a few attempted to meet the charge, but only for an instant, when they wheeled and the entire village fled precipitately. but luggage and incomplete preparation impeded their flight, and ere they had gone half a mile, the troops, following buffalo bill, were among them, shooting right and left with terrible effect. the pursuit continued until darkness made it impossi- ble to longer follow the indians, who had scattered and were leading off in every direction like a brood of young quails. the expedition went into camp along the south platte, much exhausted by so long a chase, and though very tired, every trooper seemed anxious for the morrow. it was nearly sunrise when “ boots and saddles” was life of buffalo bill. after circling about the soldiers with the view of meas- uring their full strength, the indians, comprehending how small was the number, made a desperate charge from two sides, getting so near that several of the soldiers were badly wounded by arrows. but the indians were received with such withering fire that they fell back in confusion, leaving twenty of their warriors on the ground. another charge resulted like the first, with heavy loss to the red skins, which so discouraged them that they drew off and held a long council. after discussing the situation amorg themselves for more than an hour they separated, one body making off as though they intended to leave, but buffalo bill understood their motions too well to allow the soldiers to be deceived. the indians that remained again began to ride in a circle around the soldiers, but maintaining a safe distance, out of rifle range. seeing an especially well mounted indian riding at the head of a squad, passing around in the same circle more than a dozen times, buffalo bill decided to take his chances for dismounting the chief (as he proved to be), and to accomplish his purpose he crawled on his hands and knees three hundred yards up the ravine, stopping at a point he considered would be in range of the indian when he should again make the cir- cuit. his judgment proved correct, for soon the indian was seen loping his pony through the grass, and as he slackened speed to cross the ravine, bill rose up and fired, the aim being so well taken that the chief tumbled to the ground while his horse, after running a few hun- dred yards, approached the soldiers, one of whom ran out and caught hold of the long lariet attached to the bridle, and thus secured the animal. bill returned to the company, all of whom had witnessed his feat of killing an indian at a range of fully four hundred yards, and by heroes of the plains. ow, general consent the horse of his victim was given to him. this indian killed by bill proved to be tall bull, one of the most cunning and able chiefs the sioux ever had, and his death so affected the indians that they at once re- treated without further attempt to dislodge the soldiers. some days after this occurrence gen. carr's command was brought together again and in an engage- ment with the sioux, more than three hundred warriors and a large number of ponies were captured, together with several hundred squaws, among the latter being tall bull's wid, who told with pathetic in- terest how the prairie chief * women would had killed her have been under husband. but like circumstan- instead of being ces, she regarded moved with ha- him with special tred against him, favor, and death of tall bull. as most civilized teemed it quite an honor that her husband, a great war- rior himself, should have met his death at the hands of so mighty and celebrated a person as the prairie chief. she ever afterward regarded buffalo bill with a feeling akin to tender affection, or as near that sentiment as an indian squaw could be expected to approach, and invari- ably availed herself of every opportunity to show her esteem for him. a photo enly. es- *buffalo bill is known among all northern indians as the prairie chief, life of buffalo bill. the expedition having succeeded in thoroughly break- ing the power of the sioux, gen. carr went into bar- racks at ft. sedgwick, where the soldiers, elated with the trophies of their success, indulged in merrymaking until a jollier camp was never seen than that around jule’s old ranche. one special feature of this glorious celebration was horse racing, in which buffalo bill backed his new acquisition, which, in honor of his dead owner, bill generously called tall bull, against all the horses of the regiment, and put up all his available cash, even to the last paper five-cent piece. his winnings amounted to just seven hundred dollars in cash, three jack knives, two scalps and a two-stringed fiddle. chapter xvii. gen. carr having received a leave of absence, when his command reached ft. mcpherson gen. w. h. emory took charge of the republican river district, and the fifth cavalry went into regular quarters. buffalo bill being assured that the command would remain at mcpherson as a reward for the long and severe labor performed by the regiment, had a house built, and then sent for his wife and daughter, who were in st. louis, to come to him, as mcpherson would now be their home. two years passed without the occurrence of any event of special interest connected with buffalo bill, his time being spent in hunting and home occupations. in the winter of - bill accompanied two parties of wealthy englishmen upon a hunting expedition, in heroes of the plains. which he acquitted himself with such credit and satisfac- tion that upon returning home the englishmen sounded his praises so earnestly that letters began to pour in from other wealthy gentlemen of england propounding hun- dreds of questions appertaining to hunting on the great western prairies. during the visit of the englishmen, a horse race was arranged at ft. mcpherson, to take place between buf- falo bill, who was to ride tall bull, and a cavalryman who owned what he considered a fast horse. there was a singular feature about this race, however, which was a stipulation that while running bill should leap from his horse to the ground and then remount again eight con- secutive times before completing the course, which was one mile in length. his advantage seemed so great that every one bet on the cavalryman; in fact, few believed bill was circus man enough to perform this feat, and none believed it less than the englishmen. but the race was run according to programme, and bill won it easily, together with several hundred dollars from his foreign guests. leaping and remounting from a running horse is an act as easy for buffalo bill to perform as it is for a profes- sional bareback rider to assume a standing osition on a moving horse. in the spring of a party of indians nade a de- scent on a stock ranche near mcpherson and succeeded in running off twenty-one head of horses, and coming closer to the post during night, also got away with an- other fast horse owned by cody, which he called powder face. the moment this loss was discovered, company i was ordered to pursue the thieves, buffalo bill being sent with the soldiers as trailer. an early start was made and so fast did the company move that they covered sixty life of buffalo bill. miles before sundown. an encampment was made within four miles of red willow creek, on the banks of which bill expressed his earnest belief that the indian thieves were camped. but to verify his suspicions he made an investigation, unaccompanied, during the night, and sure enough he found them, with guard posted, about four miles from the company's camp. having located the indians, he returned to the camp and posting the soldiers, arranged matters for an attack two indians at one shot. before daylight on the following morning. his pro- gramme was carried out with such success that the cavalry, which he headed, rode with shout, pistol and saber into the indian village just as the gray dawn was appearing. sharp work succeeded, in which there was a rapid deci- mation of the red race. several indians, however, suc- ceeded in mounting ponies and a pursuit ensued in which buffalo bill took a specially interesting part, as heroes of the plains. his powder face carried one of the fleeing thieves. dur- ing this interesting race bill ran down two indians who were riding the same pony, and by a skillful shot sent a rifle ball through both their bodies, felling them to the ground still locked together. but powder face being the swiftest horse among the cavalry, bill was compelled, with chagrin and mortification, to see the thief who rode him disappear in the distance. the pursuit terminated with excellent results, for all the stolen horses were recovered except powder face, and more than a dozen indian scalps were brought back as a compensation for that loss—and they all belonged to bill, too. soon after this most successful surprise an expedition was organized to again penetrate the republican river country, the command being entrusted to gen. thomas duncan, who was first officer under brevet maj. gen. emory. now, it chanced that gen. duncan, while one of the best and bravest soldiers, was a rigid disciplina- rian, and at the same time full of eccentricities. in fact he had but to be sounded when immediately there would escape so much good humor and infectious jokes that the whole regiment would be almost paralyzed with uncon- trolable laughter. there was fun ahead for the boys, though duty was always imperative with their commander. the expedition was accompanied by maj. north's paw- nee scouts, who, while they had done genuine fighting service, had never been placed on guard duty. but gen. duncan was determined that they should be in every sense thorough soldiers, and consequently the pawnees must be initiated. of course, being with white men only for a short season, and having an officer over them who was fluent in their own language, the pawnees were abso- lutely ignorant of english, save to repeat, like a parrot, , life of buffalo bill. a few words which they heard frequently used. but this fact was ignored by gen. duncan, who ordered the guard stationed around camp and that every post should call each hour of the night as it was sounded, thus : “post no. , ten o'clock, all is well.” “post no. , ten o'clock, all is well,” and so on, until the entire guard had made the call. this order was explained to the pawnees by maj. north, but with all his explanations they could not com- prehend the meaning, or if comprehending, their igno- rance of english prevented them from executing the or- der with intelligence. the result was as follows: the hour being called by one of the soldiers, the in- dian occupying the adjoining post would sing out through a distorted remembrance: “ploss numbler five cents o'clock-go to h- -don't care, big chief.” another would try to repeat and stumble onto: “ ploss numbler half past - how!-- heap john drink." they started out right, but after the first two words recollection came to them only in expressions which they had previously fixed in their minds. this system, while it was superbly ridiculous, fur- nished food for laughter, and every night came to be a regular love-feast of fun; but, like a joke frequently told, it at length grew tedious and gen. duncan was compelled to countermand the order, which relieved the pawnees from guard duty, much to their satisfaction. the expedition after remaining out for several days, met a party of indians, who had massacred the buck sur- veyors, and had a running fight with them. buf- falo bill had a whip shot from his hand and a bullet went through his hat, but he killed two indians by way heroes of the plains. of compensation for his narrow escape. meeting with no further adventures, the command returned to ft. mc- pherson, where, upon arrival, bill received from his wife the celestial gift of a first son, whom he named kit carson. peace being now restored, and all the troublesome in- dians having returned to their reservations, ft. mcpher- son became a quiet place, save for the usual disturbances indirectly chargeable to sutler's stores. bill, though still chief of scouts, performed little scouting service except between quarters and refreshment stations, which is always a congenial occupation to good trailers. one day, as he was cracking jokes, spinning yarns, and keeping things about the post in good humor and condition, gen. emory approached him and said: “cody, i am annoyed very much by the petty thiev- ing that is going on about here, nearly every day having to hear complaints from persons who have either lost horses or other personal property. we need a justice of the peace very badly, and i have decided to bestow that office on you. “good gracious! general, i appreciate the compli- ment, but if you can pick out any one of the government mules about here that knows less of law than i do, then i'll give him my recommendation for the appointment.” “well, you are not required to know much law; rather to discriminate between right and wrong, and mete out proper punishment." " i know," answered bill, “ that it's wrong to get drunk; in fact, against the law-military—but just what written law i couldn't tell." “i can, perhaps, deal with drunkenness in camp ; i want you to deal with the thieves." life of buffalo bill. >> “ all right, general, i can string a thief without mercy, and if that's the purpose of my appointment, why, just put your fist to the commission.” bill was duly appointed 'squire, and in about fifteen minutes after receiving his authority, a party living at mcpherson, sought him with the following complaint : “say, 'squire, a yaller-legged ranchero, that lives up on the beaver, has jist stole one o' my hosses an’ i want a writ o' replevin.' “ want a writ of replevin? why, don't you want your horse? what good would a writ of replevin do you with- out you first had the horse ?" " i don't know, they told me down here at headquar- ters that you was the 'squire, and to ax you for a writ o’ replevin.” “ where is your horse now?' “why, old yaller-legs is a drivin' ov him like h- to'ard beaver. bill turned around, and taking lucretia borgia, his rifle, from the rack, went out, mounted his horse, and told the complainant to lead off in the direction taken by “yaller-legs.” the two rode rapidly for several miles, until they caught up with the thief, who was driving several head of horses. bill accosted him: “hello ! you've got a horse in that herd that belongs to this complainant ; that piebald on the off side he says belongs to him." “ well, what are you going to do about it?” “ i'm going to make you cut out the horse, put a rope around his neck and deliver him to this man,' an- swered bill, at the same time bringing his rifle to a posi- tion suggestive of slaughter. the thief obeyed the order with alacrity, but after heroes of the plains. >> turning over the horse, bill told him there were some damages to settle, and if the settlement were not made at once, he would take him back to mcpherson. “i can't go back there, my time is too precious; what are the damages ??? twenty dollars," replied bill, which sum was imme- diately paid over and duly credited to buffalo bill's - of- ficial ” account. soon after this incident, the knowledge of there being a 'squire in mcpherson prompted a sample resident of the place to call on bill and arrange terms with him for performing a marriage ceremony. “how much money have you got, young man, ” asked bill. “o, i h’aint got much, but maybe i could raise ten dollars.'' “ ten dollars goes,” replied bill ; “bring over the girl and i'll hitch you according to the law and the prophets.” after the applicant had departed, bill got down a copy of the nebraska statutes and for more than an hour tried with becoming assiduity to find the form prescribed for marriage, but it was worse than hunting for indians dur- ing a dark night in high prairie grass ; he couldn't find it. thus unprepared, bill was soon called on by the in- tended groom and bride, both of whom were apparently bowed down with either the gravity of the situation, or an innate diffidence, which was greatly increased by the motley crowd that stood around in the room waiting to witness the ceremony. bill infused some courage into the bewildered couple by saying : “are you the parties who want to get married ?” a feeble - yes” came from the groom. “well, then, brace up and answer the questions the law makes it my duty to ask you.” >> life of buffalo bill. to the bridegroom—“do you take this woman to be your wedded wife; to honor, support and protect her through life?" yes, sir." to the bride—“do you accept this man for your law- ful husband ; to love, cherish and obey him, through good and ill report?” “yes, sir." > >> the marriage ceremony. “ that's good; now join hands while i pronounce the benediction : i now declare you man and wife, and let me add that whomsoever god and buffalo bill join together let no man put asunder. may you live long and prosper. amen! the ceremony being completed, bill kissed the bride, after which there was an adjournment for irrigating purposes. heroes of the plains. chapter xviii. early in september, , a grand hunt was projected by gen. sheridan, whese intention was to afford some of his eastern friends the excitement of a buffalo chase. accordingly invitations to participate in the hunt were issued to and accepted by the following gentlemen : james gordon bennett; gen. anson stager, of the west- ern union telegragh company; charles wilson, editor chicago journal; lawrence r. and leonard w. jerome; gen. h. e. davies ; gen. fitzhugh; gen. rucker ; capt. m. e. rogers ; carroll livingston, and surgeon general arsch. this party having announced their coming, were receiv- ed at ft. mcpherson by a cavalry company escort under gen. emory and major brown. almost immediately upon their arrival gen. sheridan sent for buffalo bill whom he introduced with flattering remarks to each one in the hunting party, after which he told bill that the gentlemen had come to mcpherson with the expectation of taking a big hunt under his special guidance and direc- tion. in anticipation of the arrival of these distinguished and wealthy gentlemen, bill had taken considerable pains to present a slick appearance, having, as he expressed it, “ curled my front teeth ; brushed up a new buckskin toga; put on my sunday moccasins : combed out the fringe on my trousers, and left nothing undone save banging' my front hair.” in a very interesting pamphlet of sixty-eight pages which gen. davies afterward wrote, describing the inci- dents of this pleasurable hunt, under the title, “ ten days on the plains," he mentions the fact that at his meeting life of buffalo bill. with buffalo bill on the occasion referred to, he thought the scout was the handsomest man that had ever trod the prairies ; such a perfect type of physical manhood, com- . bining a powerful physique with such rare symmetry and harmony of feature, which perfections were brought into greater prominence by the extraordinary grace of his movements. the party hunted over a large extent of territory for a period of ten days, killing many buffaloes, turkeys, jack rabbits, antelopes, etc., and having an excellent cook with them the cuisine was equal, if not superior, to the epicu- rean dainties set at olympian feasts. early in january, , gen. forsyth and dr. arsch, both of gen sheridan's staff, visited buffalo bill at ft. mcpherson for the purpose of arranging with him the preliminaries of a grand buffalo hunt which the grand duke alexis, who was then visiting the united states, had expressed a desire to participate in. as the royal guest of the nation deserved, by reason of his position," special recognition, bill at once conceived the idea of en- gaging a large number of indians to take part in the hunt, and add to the duke's pleasure by giving exhibitions and ceremonies which would acquaint him with their peculiar life. acting upon this idea he visited spotted tail's camp-sioux-on the red willow, where he readily in- fuenced one hundred of the leading chiefs and warriors to accompany the duke, and by his further request they assembled at government crossing, on the red willow. after obtaining the consent of the indians, capt. eagan with a company from the second cavalry was despatched to the meeting point to arrange for the duke’s reception. the ground was cleared and leveled, a large wall tent erected and plenty of stores were carefully packed away sufficient to last the duke's party during the hunt. . heroes of the plains. on the th of january, the royal guest and his party arrived at north platte, over the union pacific railroad, where they were received by buffalo bill, captain hays and a company of cavalry under captain eagan. there were also in waiting six ambulances and twenty extra saddle horses. gen. sheridan accompanied the grand வ il hill " how!' duke and introduced him to buffalo bill, whereupon bill tendered his highness the use of buckskin joe, a famous buffalo horse, and an hour afterward the party were mounted and riding southward across the south platte toward medicine river. life of buffalo bill. reaching the rendezvous on red willow, all necessary arrangements were found completed, and the indians were in waiting, ready for the ceremonies expected of them. several members of the party were introduced to spot- ted tail, who appeared clad in government clothes, but which, it was evident, were never made for him. he wore a u. s. belt, with the buckle upside down, and as he advanced with extended hand, saying “how,” he was a good model for a caricature artist. in the afternoon, the duke was highly entertained with exhibitions of wonderful horsemanship, lance throwing, bow shooting and sham fights, and in the evening the indians gave a grand war dance, in which many of their singular ceremonies were introduced. on the following day, bill rode beside the grand duke and instructed him in the manner of shooting buf- faloes, until looking away to the south nearly two miles, a large herd was discovered crossing the party's intended route. in a moment the duke became very much excited and anxious to charge directly toward the buffaloes, but bill restrained him for a time, until getting around to windward and keeping behind the sand hills, the herd was gradually approached. now," said bill, "is your time; you must ride as fast as your horse will go, and don't shoot until you get a good opportunity.” away they went, tearing down the hill and throwiug up a sand storm in the rear, leaving the duke's retinue far behind. when within a hundred yards of the fleeing buffaloes the duke fired, but unfortunately missed, being unused to shooting from a running horse. bill rode up close beside him and advised him not to fire until he could ride directly up on the flank of a buf- falo, as the sport was most in the chase. heroes of the plains. the two now dashed off together and ran their horses on either side of a large bull, against the side of which the duke thrust his gun and fired a fatal shot. he was very much elated at his success, taking off his cap and waving it vehemently, at the same time shouting to those who were fully a mile in the rear. when his retinue came up there were congratulations, and every one drank to his good health with overflowing glasses of cham- pagne. the hide of the dead buffalo was carefully re- moved and dressed, and the royal traveler in his journey- ? leh ther pendid the grand duke's first buffalo. . ings over the world has no doubt often rested himself up- on this trophy of his skill (?) on the plains of america. an encampment was now made, as the party was quite fatigued, and the evening passed with song and story. on the following day, by request of spotted tail, the grand duke hunted for a while beside - two lance," a celebrated chief, who claimed he could send an arrow entirely through the body of the largest buffalo. this feat seemed so incredulous that there was a general de- nial of his ability to perform it ; nevertheless, the grand life of buffalo bill. duke and also several others who accompanied the chief, witnessed, with profound astonishment, an accomplish- ment of the feat, and the arrow that passed through the buffalo was given to the duke as a memento of two lance's skill and power. on the same day of this performance the grand duke killed a buffalo at a distance of one hundred paces, with a heavy navy revolver. the shot was a marvelous- scratch. after the hunt was concluded, buffalo bill, upon invi- tation of gen. sheridan, took the reins of an ambulance team and showed the duke how old stage drivers set their horses " afire." but the drive was not appreciated suf- ficiently to applaud, for the duke was an occupant of the ambulance. as they went down hill toward the medi- cine at the rate of sixty miles a minute—more or less- there was a tuft of royal hair sticking up like a sugar loaf, while his coat-tails were flapping and cracking like the whips of an army of bull-whackers. north platte was reached after a week's absence, and upon taking the train for the east, the grand duke in- vited bill into his car where, as a recognition of his re- gard and appreciation, he gave him numerous and valuable presents, concluding by extending him a cordial invita- tion to visit russia, where he promised to receive him royally. soon after the grand duke's departure, buffalo bill received an invitation from a large number of leading men of new york city, to visit the east; among those who desired to extend him their hospitalities were james gordon bennett, august belmont, leonard w. jerome, and many others of equal prominence. at the earnest solicitation of gen. sheridan, bill at length concluded to accept the invitation, and made preparations accordingly. heroes of the plains. gen. stager provided him with railroad passes and ar- ranged for him to stop at chicago, niagara falls, buf- falo and rochester. at all these places a committee of reception was appointed to receive him with becoming honors, and he was introduced into the best society of all these cities, upon arriving at new york, bill was received by a committee who escorted him directly to the union club, where he met the wealthy gentlemen who had sent the invitation. he was now taken in charge by the members, who gave him one ceaseless round of dinners and parties. invitations came in on him so rapidly that it was con- fusion worse confounded, and he was in a very whirlpool of demoralization. one of the largest dinners given in his honor was prepared by james gordon bennett, but bill was in such purturbation of mind, owing to the hun- dreds of invitations which lay before him, that he was un- able to decide which had precedence, and consequently the bennett dinner had to be postponed. mr. august belmont then prepared a dinner for bill, which was one of the most elegant affairs known in new york even to this day, and it is good to remember the fact that bill graced the occasion with his presence, and bennett was also there with forgiveness in his right hand for bill's delinquency. during this visit buffalo bill had the pleasure of attend- ing the bowery theater, where was being produced a play entitled “ buffalo bill, the king of border men,” thereby seeing some of his noted adventures mirrored by an ex- cellent actor named j. b. studly. the play was a decid- ed success, and as it became known among the audience that the real hero occupied a private box in the theatre, a shout went up which would not abate until the manager led bill out on the stage for a speech. the house was life of buffalo bill. fairly filled to overflowing, and as the great scout had never appeared in the role of public speaker, he was worse embarrassed than the diffident couple he had mar- ried several months previously at ft. mcpherson. the fact is, he never felt so badly corraled in his life as he did on that occasion, and after muttering a few unintelligible words he retreated in disorder behind the scenes. but notwithstanding his embarrassment, the manager offered him five hundred dollars a week to take the leading role in the performance. but this amount was insufficient to counteract his extraordinary “want of cheek,” and he declined the offer. after indulging in an uninterrupted round of festivities for twenty days, buffalo bill visited some of his relatives in westchester, pennsylvania, whom he had never seen, and after spending a few days, in obedience to a tele- gram received from gen. sheridan, he returned to ft. mcpherson where his services were needed. directly after his arrival at the post, a party of indians made an attack on mcpherson station, five miles from the fort, and after killing three men ran off several head of horses and cattle. captain meinhold was at once ordered out with his company to pursue the depredating indians, and buffalo bill was, of course, expected to accompany. the command as trailer. on this expedition he had an assistant scout with him in the person of j. b. omohundro, known throughout the united states as “ texas jack,” of whose career some mention will be made before concluding the adventures of buffalo bill. for two days the command moved slowly on account of the indefinite trail, which the indians had taken such pains to cover that it was almost impossible to follow it. however bill's fertility of well-directed suspicions car- heroes of the plains. ried the expedition to a point on the south fork of the loupe, where a camp was prepared at which all the sol- diers, except four, halted, while buffalo bill, texas jack and the detail of four men pushed forward to reconnoitre a heavy strip of timber in which bill thought the indians were secreted. proceeding only a few miles and gaining the summit of a high ridge, bill surveyed the country within his vision and saw encamped at the timber edge about one dozen indians and near them several head of horses were grazing. he immediately proposed to charge the sav- ages rather than take the chances of their escaping dur- ing his return to the command. all his men being of like mind, bill rode down toward the indians, keeping well behind the brush until he approached within a few hundred yards. he now ordered a charge which was made with such impetuosity that he was carried directly through the camp. the indians, after firing a single volley, broke for their horses, but being too closely pur- sued tried to make another stand. bill shot down two of them before they rallied, and killed a third one as he was trying to cross the loupe. there were thirteen in- dians in the original party, but three of them being killed the odds were now only six to ten. some of them had crossed the river and these bill pursued, expecting his men to follow, but instead of so doing, they rushed after seven of the indians who remained on the north side of the river. suddenly he found himself alone and at the same time saw two of the fugitives turn and ride di- rectly toward him, shooting and yelling. he was struck by one of the shots in the left side of the head, produc- ing only a scalp-wound, but drawing so much blood that he was almost blinded by the flow. with a swipe of his hand he cleared his face for a moment so as to fire, and life of buffalo bill. with the shot an indian fell dead. the other one now turned to run, but bill pushed his horse forward and when within a few yards, he raised himself in the stir- rups and shot the indian dead, thus scoring five indians himself in a fight of only a few minutes, the scalps of which he secured and also recovered all the stolen stock. capt. meinhold, hearing the firing, ordered his compa- ny into the saddle, but when the soldiers approached the scène of battle they found only the spoils of victory ; seven dead indians, as many bloody scalps, and twenty horses. chapter xix. returning from this expedition buffalo bill was en- gaged to accompany the earl of dunraven on an elk hunt, which lasted three weeks, to the infinite delight of the earl, who was an excellent sportsman. before complet- ing this hunt, however, a party of wealthy gentlemen of chicago went out to ft. mcpherson with letters from gen. sheridan, inviting bill to guide them on a hunt, and so pressing was their invitation that he placed the earl in charge of texas jack and accompanied the chicago gen- tlemen, among whom were e. p. green, alexander sam- ple, mr. mulligan, of keath & mulligan, and a number of others. during this excursion the pleasure party was jumped by a band of indians and had to run for a dis- tance of six miles back to camp—and the way they push- ed on the reins was interesting to see. following this hunt came another with several mer- chants, judges and lawyers from omaha. u. s. district heroes of the plains. attorney neville was one of this party, and was a novelty of no insignificant pretensions. he wore a plug hat and swallow-tailed coat which gave him a most amusing ap- pearance when pursuing buffaloes. after getting fairly upon the hunting grounds, at the request of the party, who were anxious to see so strange and dextrous a feat performed, bill lariated a large buffalo bull, while on a tight run, and then tied the animal to a tree, a thorough captive. but throwing the lasso was an easy employment for bill, as he had practiced the art for several years and acquired a dexterity rarely to be met with, even among mexicans. in the fall of a convention of democrats was held at grand island for the purpose of nominating a candi- date to represent the twenty-sixth legislative district. every county in the state was overwhelmingly republi- can, and the twenty-sixth district was as one-sided as a jug handle. nominations were made by the democrats, not with the view of electing their candidates, however, but for the purpose of maintaining their party organiza- tion. in the convention referred to some one proposed the name of wm. f. cody for representative, and with the proposition a cheer went up forthwith which resulted in placing his name formally before the convention, where his nomination was instantly made unanimous. no one was ever more surprised than bill when he was inforined of the convention's action, nor would he believe that his candidacy had really been considered until offi- cial information made the fact incontestible. he felt that it would be cowardice for him to refuse to make the race, as some one must be immolated for party's sake, and justice impressed him with the belief that he might its properly be the victim as any other man, life of buffalo bill. being absent from home more than nine-tenths of his time, he made no canvass whatever of the district, yet his personal popularity was so great that nearly every one in the district, whether democrat or republican, gave him their votes, and his election was a triumph few men ever achieve. it was a testimonial to his honor, ability and noble qualities of such priceless value that what would not any man give to be the recipient of a like esti- mation ? but however great the honors, beyond the gratitude he felt he indulged little of the pride of his position, for about the time of taking his seat in the legislature a proposition was made him which his best interests dic- tated an acceptance of. ned buntline, who only a few years previously had met buffalo bill and made fame for both by his stories concerning the scout’s adventures, published in the new york weekly, being greatly im- pressed with the popular qualities of his hero, made him a flattering offer for his services as a leading theatrical attraction. the proposition, when first made, very naturally appeared somewhat ridiculous to bill, who thoroughly appreciated his imperfections and lack of experience, and was especially haunted by the remembrance of his confu- sion during his appearance at the bowery theater. but buntline put a silver lining to all his persuasive words and covered his promises with a heavy veneering of gold. the final result was that bill resigned his seat in the legislature, and in the latter part of november he sent his letter of resignation to gen. reynolds as chief of scouts. having settled matters in the west, bill took his fam- ily and started east, stopping one day in omaha to ac- cept the recognition paid his services by the citizens who had enjoyed his company on the hunt already referred to. heroes of the plains. a grand dinner was the means taken for affording the recognition and appreciation they desired to manifest, and an elegant time was the result. at omaha bill met texas jack, who had played the role of first assistant hero in buntline's stories, and as jack was anxious to accompany his old friend, bill gladly engaged his company. they proceeded directly to chi- cago, where ned buntline was stopping, while bill's family went to their relations in st. louis, who were not only glad to welcome mrs. cody but also to see the new accession, little ora, who had been born only a short while before bill's election to the legislature. upon reaching chicago, bill and jack were met at the depot by mr. mulligan, who had engaged rooms at the sherman house, intending that the two scouts should be his guests. buntline was so busily engaged delivering temperance lectures and preparing for the introduction of his stellary duet that it was not until the following day that he met the two rising theatrical comets. when the three did meet, bill and jack were astounded upon shaking hands with buntline to hear him spin out the following, scarcely taking time to breathe between sen- tences. “how are you?-glad to see you—just in time-got ev- erything arranged and we're going to make an immense hit —come over to the amphitheatre with me and see nixon, he's the manager—we open there monday night and you must stir about lively so as to be ready—how do you feel? when did you arrive?—where are you stopping ?” and thus he rattled away, like an old alarm clock just wound up, with a broken ratchet, and until he had run down somewhat neither of the scouts could reply. when bill caught up with the machine he managed to stammer out by way of contrast: life of buffalo bill. “ well, buntline, i don't see just where to catch on; you don't mean to say that jack and i are expected to make our appearance on the stage next monday night?” “ that's just what i mean, and i have made arrange- ments accordingly. come with me and we'll call on the manager.' the two scouts, who now perceived that they were trail- ing down a strange cañon, followed their new guide and said nothing further. they proceeded to the ampitheatre, where mr. nixon was found awaiting them, and to whom the scouts were introduced, after which buntline said: "well, nixon, here are the boys, and they are a pat hand, all flushes and fours, i tell you. we will open up on next monday night with a flourish that will fire the people.” “ so early as that, ned? that will scarcely give the gentlemen time for preparation. let me see your drama, and perhaps i can be of some assistance in organ- izing the company.' buntline's reply was a very cyclone of surprise. said he: “i haven't written the drama yet, neither have i en- gaged any company, but there are plenty of unemployed theatrical people in town who would be glad of an en- gagement. “why, you astonish me. no company nor drama, and only four days to write a play, engage a company, study the parts, rehearse, and get out the show bills. i guess we will not go any further with our arrangements, and the contract between you and me' may be considered off.” this was the way nixon received buntline's admissions and declarations. heroes of the plains. > >> but not in the least dismayed, buntline replied: “all right. i believe the theater is not engaged for next week, so what rent will you charge me for the house for six nights?” six hundred dollars." “ all right, again, i'll take it,” was buntline's re- sponse. having made this engagement for the theater, buntline invited bill and jack over to his hotel, where a supply of pens, ink and paper was at once ordered, and three copyists engaged to record his dictations. “now i've got it, boys,” exclaimed buntline; "the play shall bear the title, scouts of the plains.' this appeared good, and with this the inspiration seemed to possess him, for he dictated the parts with such rapidity that in three hours' time the narrative was completed, and only required proper division to be given into the hands of the performers. bill's and jack's parts were first copied off and given them by buntline, with the remark: • now, boys, i want you to pitch right in and don't leave this room until you are letter perfect; in the mean- time i'll go out, engage the company, order the bills and advertising, and get everything in readiness. upon my return i'll hear you rehearse and help you on the de- livery.” with this he shot out of the room, fairly running over with the business in hand, and did not return until late in the evening after buntline's departure the two scouts abstractedly looked at the numerous lines that had been left for them to memorize, and then each turned at the same time to eye the other. bill was the first to speak: . jerusalem ! jack, this is worse than a village of hos- tiles. flow are you on the commit?” >> life of buffalo bill. why, bill, you know i never did have sense enough to remember anything but a bull-whacker's speech or an indian's war-whoop.” “well,”' answered bill, “ by close calculation i've de- cided that i could muster about two lines and a whoop in two years, and at this rate i might catch onto the whole piece in about three life times.” “ then don't despair,” replied jack, “ for that beats me as far as mccarthy's flight beat that little party of pawnees you told me about some days ago. fact is, i'm in doubt about remembering my stage name, and i couldn't if buntline hadn't considerately let me wear my old title." finding it impossible to bring themselves down to solid work, they made the most of the situation and spent the day in spinning yarns. when buntline came bustling in during the afternoon he said: well, boys, how are you getting along with your parts?” oh, the parts are all right, only they don't like us very well. i guess, ned, we will have to foreclose on the study ; our health might give way if we continued," replied bill. “ you must not get discouraged, boys,” said buntline, “ for besides the incentive you have in the golden reward that awaits your efforts, remember that i have assumed a large responsibility and therefore none of us can afford to fail." this had the effect to brace up the despondent scouts and they consented to recite some of their parts from the manuscript, but in this they made such a miserable failure that even buntline was to some extent discouraged. but he was as patient as he was versatile, and by hard work the training at length began to tell. after drilling for heroes of the plains. two days, bill and jack met the other members of the company at a general rehearsal, and things began to grow smooth, although to save their lives the scouts could not avoid a stiffness and apparent want of confidence in them- selves which seriously interfered with the rendering of their parts. monday night came soon enough—too soon for the scouts—and at seven o'clock bill and jack went over to the theatre with the faces of chief mourners in a funeral procession. they repaired at once to the dressing room, where their buckskin suits--stage-dress-were adjusted, and when prepared they took a peep through the curtain, when they were horrified as well as delighted to see a packed house, with standing room at a premium. bill's first thought after this sight was of his feelings when standing before a large audience in the old bowery theatre ; his knees knocked together like the palsy of old age, and when the curtain rang up and his appearance had to be made a more scared man actually, positively and liter- ally, never lived than buffalo bill. buntline was cast in the play, and but for his encour- aging presence and sustaining expedients, both bill and jack would certainly have dropped out of sheer stage- fright. the audience, of course, greeted their appearance with vociferous cheers, and when the noisy ovation subsided bill had lost the trail completely, and could not remen- ber a single word of his part. but buntline saw his em- barrassment and came to the rescue by speaking foreign to the text: “where have you been, bill? what has detained you so long?'' at this juncture fortune knocked at bill's door, for seeing mr. mulligan, with whom he had hunted only a life of buffalo bill. >> few weeks before, sitting in a private box of the theatre, surrounded by several friends, he answered : “i've just been out on a hunt with mr. mulligan, and we got corraled by a party of hostiles." this answer fairly brought down the house, as mulli- gan was one of the best known business men in chicago. both bill and buntline saw they had struck a fortunate cue, and that the only way out of their embarrassment was by following this colloquy. buntline therefore quer- ried : “is that so? well, tell us all about the hunt and your escape.” thereupon bill, who is an excellent story teller and knows just how much ornamentation to give his recitals concerning indians, related at some length all the partic- ulars that a curious-loving audience could desire, and upon concluding the story there was an encore which shook the house like an explosion. another good fortune came to bill when he and jack went on in the second act, for their services were required only in a desperate indian battle which was fought out to the intense satisfaction of both the audience and com- batants. there were twenty supes dressed up like in- dians, and the way in which the two scouts slaughtered them with blank cartridges was absolutely marvelous, killing off the entire crowd without receiving a scratch themselves. on the following morning all the city papers contained lengthy accounts of the performance, and some of these were more interesting than the play itself. of course buffalo bill and texas jack were not criticised as actors, but the drama was all split up the back, so to speak. some asserted that if buntline spent three hours in pre- paring that drama he must have been engaged in several heroes of the plains. other occupations at the same time. ned buntline was killed in the second act, and some of the papers expressed the idea that it was a great oversight in the performers that they did not kill him in the first. but in spite of the criticisms, the same play continued during each evening of the week, and at every perform- ance the house was crowded with an enthusiastic audience, and buntline’s venture proved a thorough financial suc- cess. at mr. nixon's solicitation he was taken in as a part- ner by buntline, after the first week, and then the com- pany began to travel, visiting all the large cities and meeting everywhere with the same astonishing success which had met them at chicago. the season closed in june, , and after a distribution of profits, amounting to six thousand dollars each, bill and jack returned to the west for another big hunt. they had remained away from their familiar pastures so long that nothing ever gave them so much pleasure as the greeting of old scout- ing friends and a buffalo dash over the prairies again. in the fall they went to new york, where they reor- ganized the company for the season of - , engaging wild bill as one of the stars. this second season also proved successful, more so, financially, than the first, and when they closed, in may, , they had money “to throw at the birds,” as bill declared, with fortune dog- ging their footsteps. heroes of the plains. supply camp at independence rock, on the sweetwater, on the route over which bill had ridden the pony express fifteen years before. it was here that california joe joined the expedition, being engaged as scout by bill, who knew how to estimate this old and valuable indian fighter's services. it w h h residence of hon. w. f. cody (buffalo bill) at north platte, neb. thom after scouting the country several days, the expedition surprised a band of arrapahoes, under lone wolf, whom they drove back to the reservations. a few days after this event the command was ordered back to rawlins, life of buffalo bill. and bill returned east to reorganize his theatrical com- pany for the approaching season. having purchased property in rochester, new york, during his tour of - , which included a handsome residence, he now moved his family to that place, where they remained for several years, and until mrs. cody's health, injuriously affected by that climate, admonished him to remove again to the west, his next settlement being at north platte, nebraska, in , where he still resides. in the succeeding season, - , his combination was, for the fourth time, put on the road, playing everywhere with great profit and satisfaction. it was during this tour, however, that the shafts of sorrow struck his family most severely, making such wounds as time can hardly heal. while he was performing with his company at spring- field, massachusetts, in april, , a telegram was handed him announcing the dangerous illness of his little baby boy, kit. his ambitions, heart and nature were so interwoven with the life of this most amiable and beau- tiful child that the shock completely unnerved him. leaving another member of the troop to act his part, bill immediately engaged a special car and hurried with all possible haste to rochester. when he arrived, little kit, who was being rapidly consumed by the fires of scarlet fever, retained barely enough consciousness to recognize his father, and putting his wan but loving little arms around his neck imprinted one affectionate kiss on his cheek, and then the spirit forsook its tenement-poor little kit was dead. there were many kind friends present to put back the long curly hair of the little one, whose feet were now treading the golden sands ; many to tell of heaven’s gain, and divide the grief of that stricken household, but none heroes of the plains. could close the bleeding wound in the hearts of the pros- trated parents. there were birds, and flowers, and sweet- scented breezes, and amid these they buried little kit, in mount hope cemetery, leaving at last the precious little mound of earth moistened with the libations of their tears. very soon after this most distressing incident, cody received several pressing requests, by telegraph, from gen. carr to return west and join the fifth cavalry again, as chief of scouts; the sioux war had just begun, and the whole north-west was panic stricken. custer and crook were operating in the big horn country, and the fifth cavalry had been ordered to scout the vicinity of the black hills. buffalo bill, so sorely stricken with grief, was anxious to plunge into some adventure that would excite him to forgetfulness of his affliction. moved by these feelings, and enjoying under all circum- stances the thrilling experiences of indian warfare, he at once decided to accept the position offered by gen. carr, and went directly to cheyenne, where the fifth cavalry was outfitting for the expedition. upon arriving at that place, bill was met at the depot by lieut. king, adjutant of the regiment, whom he ac- companied to the camp, where he was received with a genuine ovation from all the soldiers. on the following morning the command started for ft. laramie, where it met generals sheridan, forsyth and frye, who were en route for red cloud agency. bill accompanied sheridan to that post, where the neces- sary orders having been left, they returned to laramie, and from there the expedition journeyed northward to the south fork of cheyenne river. reaching the cheyenne country at the foot of the black hills, several bands of predatory indians were met and dispersed after a few slight skirmishes. life of buffalo bill. after operating in the black hills country for two weeks gen. wesley merritt superseded gen. carr in command of the fifth cavalry, and supposing the indians had been driven out of that section, he ordered the regi- ment back to ft. laramie. while returning to that post word was brought to the command by a courier, of the custer massacre on the little big horn. with this news came an order directing gen. merritt to push on rapidly to ft. fetterman and join gen. crook, who had been ordered to the big horn country. brevet major-gen. geo. a. custer. in this counection it is eminently proper to introduce a description of this, the most appalling holocaust that ever occurred on the plains; an event so disastrous that time, infinite though it is, can never make generations forget the tale of how custer and his heroic band gave up their lives, while fighting in the desolate country drained by the little big horn. there are many circumstances connected with this ter- rible battle-primarily the causes leading thereto— which must be left to those who write the life of gen. custer heroes of the plains. in extenso, as my purpose is rather to relate adventure than explain personal grievances and mistakes. inas- much as not a single soldier of custer's command escaped to relate particulars of the dreadful massacre, many of the facts connected therewith are lost forever, as the indians who participated in the slaughter can hardly be relied on to tell the whole truth concerning the battle. what i shall report here has been collected from a variety of sources, all from scouts and soldiers whose familiarity with the country and orders under which gen. custer was acting, the movements of his troops, position of the indians, and mode of fighting, qualify them for forming a most reasonable opinion of how custer met the foe, and how he struggled to his death. the sioux indians have ever been regarded as the most intractable of northern tribes; at one time their power was so great that they might have contested successfully with all the other tribes west of the mississippi combined, and in addition to their superior numbers they are alto- gether better soldiers, brave, athletic and of marvelous endurance. when the black hills gold fever first broke out, in , a rush of miners into that country resulted in much trouble, as the indians always regarded that region with jealous interest, and resisted all encroachments of white men. instead of the government adhering to the treaty of and restraining white men from going into the hills, gen. custer was sent out, in , to intimidate the sioux. the unrighteous spirit of this order the gen- eral wisely disregarded, but proceeded to prospect valley, and from there he pushed on to the valley of the little missouri. custer expected to find good grazing ground in this valley, suitable for a camp which he intended to pitch there for several days, and reconnoitre, but the heroes of the plains. either treachery or flight on their part, i galloped the re- maining portion of my advance and surrounded the lodges. this was accomplished almost before they were aware of our presence. i then entered the little village and shook gen. custer's interpreter addressing the assembled sioux. unt hands with its occupants, assuring them, through the in- terpreter, that they had no cause to fear, as we were not there to molest them, etc.” heroes of the plains. der, lead and primers, while during the summer of they received several thousand stand of arms and more than a million rounds of ammunition. with this gener- ous provision there is no cause for wonder that the sioux were able to resist the government and attract to their aid all the dissatisfied cheyennes and other indians in the northwest. besides a perfect fighting equipment, all the indians recognized in sitting bull the elements of a great war- rior, one whose superior, perhaps, has never been known among any tribe; he combined all the strategic cunning of tecumseh, with the cruel, uncompromising hatred of black kettle, while his leadership was far superior to both. having decided to precipitate a terrible war, he chose his position with consummate judgment, selecting a central vantage point surrounded by what is known as the “bad lands,” and then kept his supply source open by an assumed friendship with the canadian french. this he was the better able to accomplish, since some years before he had professed conversion to christianity under the preaching of father desmet and maintained a show of great friendship for the canadians. chapter xxi. war against the sioux having been declared, brought about by the combined causes of black hill outrages and sitting bull's threatening attitude, it was decided to send out three separate expeditions, one of which should move from the north, under gen. terry, from fort lincoln ; another from the east, under gen. gibbon, from fort heroes of the plains. eight officers and seven hundred and forty-seven men, of the seventh cavalry , eight officers and one hundred and thirty-five men of the sixth and seventeenth infantry, two officers and thirty-two men in charge of the gatling battery, and forty-five enlisted indian scouts, a grand total of thirty-eight officers and nine hundred and fifty- mine men, including scouts. the combined forces of crook, gibbon, terry and custer, did not exceed twenty-seven hundred men, while opposed to them were fully , indians, all of whom were provided with the latest and most approved patterns of repeating rifles. on the th of june gen. crook started for the rose- bud, on which stream it was reported that sitting bull and crazy horse were stationed ; about the same time a party of crow indians, who were operating with gen. crook, returned from a scout and reported that gen. gib- bon, who was on tongue river, had been attacked by sitting bull, who had captured several horses. crook pushed on rapidly toward the rosebud, leaving his train behind and mounting his infantry on mules. what were deemed accurate reports, stated that sitting bull was still on the rosebud, only sixty miles from the point where gen. crook camped on the night of the th of june. the command traveled forty miles on the six- teenth, and when within twenty miles of the sioux’ principal position, instead of pushing on, gen. crook went into camp. the next morning he was much surprised at finding himself attacked by sitting bull, who swooped down on him with the first streaks of coming dawn, and a heavy battle followed. gen. crook, who had camped in a basın surrounded on all sides by high hills, soon found his posi tion so dangerous that it must be changed at all hazards, life of buffalo bill. the advance was therefore sounded, with noyes' battal- ion occupying a position on the right, mills on the right centre, chambers in the centre, and the indian allies on the left. mills and noyes charged the enemy in magnifi- cent style, breaking the line and striking the rear. the fight continued hot and furious until p. m., when a gal- lant charge of col. royall, who was in reserve, supported by the indian allies, caused the sioux to draw off to their village six miles distant, while gen. crook went into camp, where he remained inactive for two days. in the meantime, as the official report recites: “gen- erals terry and gibbon communicated with each other june st, near the junction of the tongue and yellow- stone rivers, and learned that a heavy force of indians had concentrated on the opposite bank of the yellow- stone, but eighteen miles distant. for fourteen days the indian pickets had confronted gibbon's videttes.” gen. gibbon reported to gen. terry that the cavalry had thoroughly scouted the yellowstone as far as the mouth of the big horn, and no indians had crossed it. it was now certain that they were not prepared for them, and on the powder, tongue, rosebud, little horn or big horn rivers, gen. terry at once commenced feeling for them. major reno, of the seventh cavalry, with six compa- nies ɔf that regiment, was sent up powder river one hundred and fifty miles to the mouth of little powder to look for the indians, and, if possible, to communi- cate with gen. crook. he reached the mouth of the little powder in five days, but saw no indians, and could hear nothing of crook. as he returned, he found on the rosebud a very large indian trail, about nine days old, and followed it a short distance, when he turned about up tongue river, and reported to gen. terry what he had life of buffalo bill. a large and recent camp have been discovered twenty or thirty miles up the rosebud. gibbon's column will move this morning on the north side of the yellowstone, for the mouth of the big horn, where it will be ferried across by the supply steamer, and whence it will proceed to the mouth of the little horn, and so on. custer will go up the rosebud to-morrow with his whole regiment, and thence to the headwaters of the little horn, thence down that stream.'' following this report came an order, signed by e. w. smith, captain of the eighteenth infantry, acting as- sistant adjutant general, directing gen. custer to follow the indian trail discovered, pushing the indians from one side, while gen. gibbon pursued them from an opposite direction. as no instructions were given as to the rate each division should travel, custer, noted for his quick, energetic movements, made ninety miles the first three days, and discovering the indians in large numbers, di- vided his command into three divisions, one of which he placed under major reno, another under major benteen, and led the other himself. as custer made a detour to enter the village, reno struck a large body of indians, who, after retreating nearly three miles, turned on the troops and ran them pell mell across grassy creek into the woods. reno overestimated the strength of his enemies and thought he was being surrounded. benteen came up to the support of reno, but he too took fright and got out of his posi- tion without striking the enemy. while reno and benteen were trying to keep open a way for their retreat, custer charged on the village, first sending a courier, trumpeter martin, to reno and ben- teen with the following dispatch : “big village ; be quick; send on the packs.” this order was too plain to be mis- heroes of the plains. construed. it clearly meant that he had discovered the village, which he intended attacking at once; to hurry for- ward to his support and bring up the packs, ambulances, etc. but instead of obeying orders, reno and benteen stood aloof, fearful lest they should endanger their posi- tion, while the brave custer and his squad of noble he- roes rushed down like a terrible avalanche upon the in- dian village. in a moment, fateful incident, the in- dians came swarming about that heroic band until the very earth seemed to open and let loose the elements of volcanic fury, and the fiends of erebus, blazing with the hot sulphur of their impious dominion. down from the hillsides, up through the valleys, that dreadful torrent of indian cruelty and massacre poured around the little squad to swallow it up with one grand swoop of fire. but custer was there at the head, like spartacus fighting the legions about him, tall, graceful, brave as a lion at bay, and with thunderbolts in his hands. his brave followers formed a hollow square, and met the rush, and roar, and fury of the demons. bravely they breasted that battle shock, bravely stood up and faced the leaden hail, nor quailed when looking into the blazing muzzles of five thousand deadly rifles. brushing away the powder grimes that had settled in his face, custer looked over the boiling sea of fury around him, peering through the smoke for some signs of reno and benteen, but seeing none and thinking of the aid which must soon come, with cheering words to his comrades, he renewed the battle, fighting still like a her- cules and piling heaps of victims around his very feet. . hour after hour passed and yet no friendly sign of re- no's coming ; nothing to be seen saving the battle smoke, streaks of fire splitting through the misty clouds, blood flowing in rivulets under tramping feet, dying comrades. death of general custer. lİfe of buffalo bill. and indians swarming about him, rending the air with their demoniacal - hi-yi-yip-yah,—yah-hi-yah.” the fight continued with unabated fury until late in the afternoon; men had sunk down beside their gallant leader until there was but a handful left, only a dozen, bleeding from many wounds, and hot carbines in their stiffening hands. the day is almost done, when, look ! heaven now defend him ! the charm of his life is broken, for custer has fallen ; a bullet cleaves a pathway through his side, and as he falters another strikes his noble breast. like a strong oak stricken by the lightning's bolt, shivering the mighty trunk and bending its withering branches down close to the earth, so fell custer ; but like the reacting branches, he rises partly up again, and striking out like a fatally wounded giant lays three more indians dead and breaks his mighty sword on the musket of a fourth; then, with useless blade and empty pistol falls back the victim of a dozen wounds. he is the last to succumb to death, and dies, too, with the glory of ac- complished duty in his conscience and the benediction of a grateful country on his head. “so sleeps the brave who sank to rest, by all his country's wishes blessed." the place where fell these noblest of god's heroes is sacred ground, and though it be the golgotha of a na- tion's mistakes it is bathed with precious blood, rich with the germs of heroic inheritance. " it was the last libation liberty draws from the hearts that break and bleed in her cause." i have avoided attaching blame to any one, using only the facts that have been furnished me of how custer came to attack the sioux village and how and why he died. when the news of the terrible massacre was learned, heroes of the plains. soldiers everywhere made a pilgrimage to the sacred place, and friendly hands reared a monument on that distant spot, commemorative of the heroism of custer the monument where custer fell. and his men; collected together all the bones and relics of the battle and piled them up in pyramidal form, where they stand in sunshine and in storm, overlooking the lifl ot buffalo bill. little big horn. the engraving herewith given is from a photograph taken while a heavy snow-storm was pre- vailing. chapter xxii. after the massacre of custer's little band, there was great activity in military movements in the northwest, and an almost consuming desire to give the sioux and cheyennes a touch of wholesale retaliation. with the news of the disaster came a report from col. santon, of the fifth cavalry, informing gen. merritt that eight hun- dred cheyenne warriors had left the red cloud agency to join sitting bull on the big horn, and instructing him to join gen. crook at ft. fetterman. instead of following the strict letter of the order, gen- merritt, with buffalo bill as his chief of scouts, con- cluded to intercept the cheyennes, a most commendable purpose, which happily justified his good judgment. selecting five hundred of his best men and horses, gen. merritt made a forced march toward war bonnet creek, which he knew the indians must cross, and at a point, too, which he estimated it would be easy to reach in advance of them. on july th the command reached the creek, and buffalo bill was sent out to discover if the cheyennes had yet effected a crossing, but finding no trail he con- tinued scouting for some distance, and was rewarded by seeing a large body of indians approaching from the south. bill rode rapidly back to camp to acquaint gen. merritt of his discovery, whereupon the cavalry was ordered to mount and hold themselves in readiness, while heroes of the plains. bill and the general should ride out on a tour of obser- vation. selecting a high knoll, by the use of field glasses, the cheyennes were plainly seen riding directly toward gen. merritt's camp. presently a party of fifteen indi- ans were observed to leave the main body and ride at a furious pace northward, and scanning the surroundings critically to ascertain the cause, bill saw two mounted soldiers, evidently couriers, trying to reach gen. merritt's camp. in order not to apprise the indians of the pres- ence of the regiment, bill suggested to the general the advisability of waiting until the couriers should come near the command, when, having led the fifteen indians some distance from the main party, he would take the other scouts and cut the squad off so as to insure their capture. gen. merritt approving of bill's idea, the latter rode back to camp, selected fifteen men and hurried to a place of concealment, where he waited for the pursuers. it was but a few moments until the couriers dashed by with the indians not more than two hundred yards in the rear. bill and his men leaped out of their ambush and sent a rattling fire after the indians, three of whom were killed ; the rest turned and ran back to the main party, which had halted upon hearing the rapid firing. after stopping for a few moments the cheyennes re- newed their march, thinking they were opposed by a small body that would offer no particular resistance. another advance party of twenty indians was sent out from the main body, and as they approached near, bill and his men charged them, but the indians, seeing their numbers were superior, made a stand, and a lively fight ensued. each side then drew off, and while they stood studying their opportunities, one of the indians, richly dressed in a chief's ornamentation, large war bonnet, capped with eagle's feathers, and carrying a winchester life of buffalo bill. rifle, rode out from his squad several rods, and made the following speech, addressing buffalo bill, whom he had seen before, and heard much of. “me know you, pa-he-has-ka (the indian for “long hair”), you great chief, kill many indians; me great chief, kill many pale faces; come on now fight me.” here was a direct challenge, and buffalo bill was ' not the man to decline it. he would not have shrunk from fighting a duel with any living man ; so he shouted back to the chief: “ i'll fight you; come on ; let indians and white men stand off and see the red chief and long hair fight with rifles.” this was a genuine novelty, and of such an exciting nature that the troops advanced to a position command- ing a view of the battle ground, while the indians rode up also sufficiently close to witness the combat. when everything was in readiness, bill advanced on horseback about fifty yards toward his opponent, and then the two started toward each other on a dead run. they were scarcely thirty yards apart when both their rifles were discharged simultaneously. the indian's horse fell dead, having been struck by the bullet from bill's rifle, and at the same time the latter's horse stepped into a hole and tumbled over; thus they were both dismounted. bill was not hurt by the fall, and springing to his feet, he faced his recovered antagonist, now not more than twenty paces distant. again the two fired almost simul- taneously, but the indian missed, while bill's aim was good, his bullet planting itself in the chief's breast. as the indian reeled and fell bill leaped on him and in the next instant had thrust his bowie-knife into the warrior's heart. with a skillful movement, acquired only after long practice, bill tore the war-bonnet off his victim's head and heroes of the plains. then scalped him in the most gentlemanly and dexterous manner. then holding up the bonnet and reeking cap- sheaf, he exclaimed: “ the first scalp for custer!” following this event, which was a display of genuine pluck very few men possess, the main body of cheyennes charged down on bill and would have killed him had not the cavalry been so near that they iniercepted the savages before they could reach him. finding that the indians could not now be ambushed, gen. merritt ordered his troops to charge, and a running fight ensued for a distance of thirty miles, the cheyennes retreating toward red cloud agency, to which point the pursuit was continued. upon arriving at the agency, a thousand dissatisfied indians were found discussing the advisability of joining sitting bull, but they offered no hostility to the fifth cavalry, which stood ready to fight the entire cheyenne tribe. at red cloud bill learned that the name of his victim in the rifle duel was yellow hand, son of cut nose, one of the leading cheyenne chiefs. upon hearing of the death of his son, this chief sent a white interpreter to buffalo bill, offering four mules for the return of yellow hand's scalp, ornaments, gun, pistols and knife, which bill had captured, but the messenger had to return with- out the trophies. leaving red cloud agency, gen. merritt started to join gen. crook, who was encamped near cloud peak, in the big horn mountains. a junction was made on the third of august at goose creek, and after remaining in camp one day the united expedition set out for tongue river, leaving their trains behind them. reaching that point, they marched on to the rosebud, where a large indian trail, indicating seven thousand warriors, was buffalo bill's duel with yellow hano. . life of buffalo bill. struck, which the command followed for several miles, but as the trail was four days old, and the indians were traveling very rapidly, the pursuit was abandoned for the day. while on the rosebud the command was met by capt. jack crawford, whose familiar title is “capt. jack, the poet scout of the black hills.' jack brought dis- patches to gen. crook from ft. fetterman, distant three hundred miles, through a country as full of hair-lifting indians as italy is of beggars, but he got through all right, without losing a hair. after remaining in camp one night, the command pushed on again, following the large trail down the rose- bud for five days, but no indians were seen. a cloud of dust and a large party of horsemen, however, caused a rapid preparation for battle, but when each sid was ready for action the discovery was made that the ap- proaching party was gen. terry's command and some friendly nez perces and snakes. when the two armies came together col. weir recog- nized buffalo bill, and at once pulled off his hat and shouted : “here's buffalo bill. god bless him! give him a cheer!” and the whole command responded in the heartiest manner. after a lengthy council between generals terry and crook, the fifth infantry was ordered to return by forced march to the yellowstone, and from there proceed by boat down to the mouth of powder river, that they might intercept any indians attempting to cross at that point. the main consolidated command continued to follow the large trail for several days, but seeing no indians and running short of supplies, a return was made to the con- fluence of the powder and yellowstone rivers, where a permanent camp was established. heroes of the plains. chapter xxiii. while lying in camp on the yellowstone, bill and a half-breed named louis richard were ordered to accom- pany gen. mills on a scouting expedition down the yel- lowstone on the steamer far west. this novel idea em- anated from gen. terry, who thought that a steamboat was a good thing to beat up an indian trail at the cross- ings. four companies were taken on board for both de- fensive and offensive purposes. when the boat started down the river bill and richard took up a position on top of the pilot house, from which point of observation a large scope of country lay before their view. but the boat proceeded as far as glendive creek without any indians being seen by the « outlook- ers.” at this point col. rice, in charge of one company of the fifth infantry, was met, who, the day previous, had fought a party of indians with a rodman cannon and killed three of their number. having to remain over night at glendive creek, gen. mills desired to communicate with gen. terry, and, of course, selected bill to carry the message, as the route was the roughest as well as the most dangerous that a man ever traveled over. but bill performed the duty without a word of complaint, and during the night rode seventy-five miles through the bad lands, reaching gen. terry's camp at daylight next morning. the bad lands, so called because no worse designation could be thought of at the time by the party who named them, are a barren waste of country, over which it is most dangerous to travel, owing to the numerous broad fissures which run zig-zag and in every direction, like the cracks which appear in the basins of recently dried up ponds in life of buffalo bill. summer time; the only difference being that in the bad lands these cracks are from two to six inches wide, some even much wider, and extending to a depth of many feet. in riding through such a country, especially during the night, the dangers may be readily understood. in the trip made by buffalo bill, he was thrown from his horse several times, and upon reaching gen. terry's camp there were bruises all over his body. as it now appeared certain that sitting bull had started for the british possessions, and that the prospects for further fighting were decidedly indefinite, bill concluded to start east again for the purpose of making prepara- tions for the approaching theatrical season. he had con- ceived the idea that a drama, with all its situations based upon the sioux war, would form a very successful enter- prise, and was determined to try the experiment. ac- cordingly, taking his leave of generals terry and crook, who were then packing up to start out on the old indian trail on powder river, he took the down-going steamer on the yellowstone for ft. beauford; but after proceed- ing twenty miles, another steamer was met, coming up the river, having on board gen. whistler, with a body of soldiers who were en route to join gen. crook. the two boats landed together, and among the first persons bill met among the passengers, was texas jack, who had been employed as dispatch carrier for the new york herald. gen. whistler interviewed bill regarding the campaign, and learning that crook and terry had left the camp at the mouth of powder river, he begged of bill to carry some dispatches which he had from gen. sheridan to gen. terry. being now on his journey to the east, bill tried to avoid making the trip, but upon learning that no other person with gen. whistler would perform the duty, he consented, and that morning, mounted on the gener- heroes of the plains. al's fine thoroughbred, he started out to overtake gen- terry, which he accomplished before dark. after bill had taken lunch, gen. terry requested him to carry a message back to gen. whistler. this duty he gladly performed, as it was over the route he would have to take anyhow, and at one o'clock in the morning bill arrived at the boat. he was astounded, upon delivering the message, to hear the following address from gen. whistler : “mr. cody, inımediately after your departure yester- day morning, a considerable body of indians made their appearance in the vicinity, and have been skirmishing around the boat ever since. as my force here is insig- nificant, i am very anxious to communicate again with generals terry and crook. i tried in vain, all day yes- terday, to induce some one to carry my message, and while i feel that it is asking too much of you, really, the matter is of so much importance that, as a last resort, i am compelled to ask you to take my dispatch. i'll give you any horse you want, and see that you are well paid for the service." “ never mind the pay, general; if your message is ready i will start back again,” was bill's answer. at two o'clock in the morning the brave scout set out on his return to gen. terry, regardless of the cordon of indians that surrounded the boat. his woods-craft ena- bled him to pass through the lines unobserved, and in four hours from the time of leaving the boat, he dashed into gen. terry's camp just as the command was on the point of moving. after reading gen. whistler's mes- sage, terry held a council with crook, which resulted in the latter continuing on the trail, while terry turned back to the yellowstone, which he crossed on boats, and then pushed his forces in the direction of the dry fork life of buffalo bill. of the missouri, bill acting as guide at gen. terry's urgent request. the command marched for three days, until they reached the buffalo range, where numerous fresh signs of indians, who had evidently been hunting, were discovered. at this point gen. terry asked bill to carry a dis- patch to col. rice, who was still in camp at glendive creek, eighty miles distant. night had already set in, and with it came a drizzling rain and a terrible wind- storm. notwithstanding the darkness, and the further fact that bill had never before set foot in that section of country, he set out at ten o'clock and traveled as best he could until morning, having made about thirty-five miles. as the country was full of predatory bands of indians, he selected a place affording excellent concealment, with the intention of remaining there until night, as to have attempted a passage of the prairies during daylight on a poor horse, such as he was riding, would have been suicidal. after eating a breakfast of bacon and crackers, he lay down for a sleep, but an hour or more afterward he was awakened by a rumbling noise, and crawling to the edge of the bluff he was on, he looked out over the prai- rie below and saw a large hunting party of indians chas- ing buffaloes, which they were killing and packing on their ponies. this they continued for fully two hours, and when their meat was secured they started off in the direction which bill must travel to reach glendive creek. it was pretty certain that the camp of the indians was somewhere along his route, but bill never hesitated on that account to continue his journey. when the shades of night had deepened, he mounted again and set out, and by making a large semi-circle he avoided the indians and reached col. rice at daylight heroes of the plains. the following morning. after delivering gen. terry's message bill bade adieu to col. rice, and again embark- ing on the far west, he proceeded down the yellowstone to bismarck, where he took passage by rail to rochester, new york. after meeting his family, he began preparations for his next theatrical tour, by employing a gentleman to write a drama for him which would introduce the striking situ- ations of the sioux war. the play was soon prepared, and was in five acts, nearly all of which were replete with mimic battles and scalping picnics. the performance invaria- bly filled the house and brought down the galleries, so that the season proved successful even beyond anticipa- tion. while in new york, bill had a novel bridle made, the like of which was never before seen. in all his indian fights he had made it a point to preserve the hair and scalps of all his victims (and they were hundreds), and with curious impulse he had a bridle made of the hair thus preserved ; it was most deftly worked by a skillful hair artist, while the bit, buckles and side stars were of bullion silver handsomely engraved. the whole, when completed, was a master-piece of workmanship, and such a novelty, besides, that august belmont offered bill one thousand dollars for it. but this offer was refused, as the bridle had been made for a special purpose—for presentation to miss emma lake, the world's famous equestrienne. it was accordingly given to this admirable little lady, who has exhibited the bridle in nearly all the leading cities of america. during the season of - , bill visited all the east- ern cities, and then made a tour of california, where he met with unexampled success. upon his return, he and major north located a ranche on the south fork of the heroes of the plains. and pistol shooting have been witnessed with delight by thousands of people in various cities of the united states. one morning, as a number of bill's and paine's friends, among others capt. d. l. paynė, the scout, and dr. voerster, ex-coroner of st. louis, were engaged in friendly conversation, a dispute arose respecting the relative abilities, as marksmen, of bill and ira paine. as a result of the dispute a contest was arranged to take place the following afternoon at the fair grounds, a wager being laid of a basket of champagne and a supper of oysters, capt. payne backing bill and ira paine bet- ting on himself. the shooting was to consist of rifle and pistol practice, steady and snap shots, at a mark and flying glass balls. the terms and place having been agreed upon, the party, reinforced by several other friends, repaired to the fair grounds, where the contest took place. buffalo bill won with such ease in all the variety of shots, that comparison in the contest would be ridiculous. out of one hundred glass balls thrown from a distance of forty yards, bill broke ninety-eight and chipped another, making ninety-nine out of a possible hundred. a dis- pute arose over the one ball that was chipped, some con- tending that it was missed, while capt. payne maintained that it was struck, and to prove his assertion he walked out on the field, and picking up the ball, was returning with it to the crowd, when bill shouted to him: “ hold on, payne ; let me cut the ashes off your cigar without touching the fire.” payne stopped, and turning his face sideways, per- mitted bill to fire. the bullet struck the ashes, leaving the fire exposed. “now," said bill, “i'll cut off the tip end of the cigar, so that you will only lose the fire.” life of buffalo bill. a shot that beat william tell's. ଆ life of buffalo bill. chapter xxiv. conclusion. buffalo bill is one of the few famous scouts who has justly won the renown which encircles his name. his exploits have been so numerous, involving a display of such extraordinary daring and magnificent nerve that language cannot exaggerate them. gen. sheridan makes bold to assert that buffalo bill has killed more indians than any white man that ever lived. it would be no credit to the daring scout if these indians had fallen with- out justification, but since they were the victims of legit- imate war, and were slain in the performance of a sworn duty, he may properly wear the laurels and deserve the plaudits of civilization whose effective instrument he has ever been. before closing this narrative of his wonderful life, i cannot resist the temptation to include a few words re- specting his social relations, which are so amiable that no man can possibly be happier than he. in may, the present year ( ), i received an invita- tion from buffalo bill to visit him, which i accepted with much pleasure, as it afforded me the opportunity i so much desired for acquainting myself with his personal pe- culiarities and social surroundings. upon returning from that visit i prepared a correspondence for the “ american traveler's journal,” recounting my exceedingly pleasant experiences with the celebrated scout and his family, ex- tracts from which i will here reproduce for the purpose of giving the reader an idea of his entertaining character, and the interesting nature of his surroundings: i met mr. cody, by arrangement, in omaha on the th, heroes of the plains. where i was received with that generous cordiality for which he is distinguished, and remained with him in that city during two days, in order to attend an entertain- ment at brownell seminary, at which institution his beautiful daughter, arta, is a student. en passant i will be excused for remarking that miss arta, though but fourteen years of age, is one of the most charming and interesting young ladies it has been my fortune to meet. she is accomplished both in music and rudimentary litera- ture, being a thorough student, and free from the vanity which so frequently turns the heads of much less handsome young girls. with her beauty and accomplishments, she combines that noble trait of loving devotion to her mother and father, inheriting much of the peculiarities of the latter ; especially her facility in shooting and riding, in both of which she has few superiors. on saturday, the th, i departed in mr. cody's compa- ny for his home, which we reached at a. m., to find his wife and younger daughter, ora, eight years of age, awaiting us with buggies, in which we rode to his beauti- ful residence, which is situated one mile west of north platte, near the u. p. railroad track. this house, built after a design furnished by his estimable wife, combines all the elegancies of a thorough mansion. it has three large intersecting parlors, the floors are covered with luxurious carpets, and the walls bedecked with handsome paintings, the more conspicuous being pictures of his family and fron- tier friends, wild bill, capt. jack crawford, texas jack, hunting scenes, indian battles, etc. in addition to these, there is a fine piano and an organ, on both of which instru- ments mrs. cody and her elder daughter are excellent performers. the table is beautified with beaten silver, and the cellar filled with the finest wines and choicest liquors; for there is a constant stream of visitors, and to life of buffalo bill. jump sideways so violently that it appeared impossible for the agile rider to keep his seat; yet he seemed like a veritable centaur, so perfectly was his equilibrium main- tained while his hands were both occupied in handling the gun, which he fired with a rapidity most astonishing. not only did he thus exhibit a truly wonderful accom- plishment as a rider, but his marksmanship was equally astonishing, for with all his rapid firing from a running, fractious horse the bullets were invariably sent with a precision which would have won honor for an expert shooting from the ground at a target. surprise cannot express my feelings at witnessing the remarkable feats he accomplished with rifle on horseback. his tours through the country as an actor have familiarized nearly every one in the united states with his accuracy of aim, which has elicited such spontaneous plaudits from admiring audiences; yet buffalo bill on the stage is but a by-play to buffalo bill on the plains. it is only on the broad prairies, beyond the boundaries of confinement, that his skill can be shown to advantage, and with a fleet, wild horse buffalo bill surpasses the most preposterous exag- gerations of the leather stocking stories. socially, this genuine hero in deed and reputation is one of the most generous and noble-hearted of men. to meet him is to be his friend. he is the very soul of hu- mor and anecdote, regaling a camp with an inexhaustible fund of rare experiences and witticisms. at omaha we met lieut. frederick schwatka, the most successful of all arctic explorers, who recently found the remains of thirty members of the ill-fated franklin expedition. schwatka and bill have been in three different expeditions together, one as chief of scouts, and the other as lieuten- ant in the regular army, and both under gen. crook. the following story was told to me by the lieutenant, . heroes of the plains. who regards bill with a friendship which he delights in. during the expedition of in the big horn country, when gen. crook was operating against the si vux, the command had pitched camp in the cañons, where they were momentarily expecting an attack. buffalo bill, as chief of scouts, being well acquainted with the country and the peculiarities of the indians, was given practical command of the snake indians, who were co-operating with the expedition. one night bill selected one of the friendly indians to act as corporal of the guard, giving him minute instructions to call the guard every two hours and send a relief. in order to give the indian a better idea of the time, bill gave him his watch, saying : “now, take this watch, and hold it in your hand; when the big hand goes around twice and the little one moves two figures, that will show you two hours have passed, and you must then put out a new guard.” the indian, having never before seen a watch, was so pleased with it that he assured bill he understood his in- structions,-being anxious to look at the attractive play- thing, as he considered it. taking a position by the camp-fire, the indian held the watch carefully in his hand, listened to its ticking, and then watched the hands. after spending five or six hours in this manner he lost all interest in the watch, and going over to bill's tent, he awakened him and said: “d-n melican man; him fool indian long time" (pointing to the watch); “big hand all right, but little hand, him dn tired," and threw the watch to bill. the indian had got the information badly mixed, thinking that both hands of the watch should make the circuit of the dial in the same time, and becoming dis- gusted with the “tired” movement of the smaller hand, he thought bill had been playing a trick on him ; he there- fore refused to act as corporal any longer. life ot buffalo bill. during the same expedition the lieutenant and bill left camp one afternoon to bathe in the sweetwater. while they were in the stream the lieutenant discovered a sage- hen in the brush on the bank, and as fresh meat had be- come an exceedingly scarce article in that section, the two were very anxious to kill the bird. they had but one pistol between them, and both wanted to do the shooting, trusting in their respective abilities to kill the hen. the lieutenant, however, secured the first shot, but missed. bill then grabbed the pistol, saying, “ you can't shoot for cold beans; i'll show you how to profit by this opportunity.” taking fair aim, bill fired, but he also missed. he considered the miss an accident, howev- er, and refusing to give the lieutenant another chance, he kept firing until the six chambers of the pistol were emptied without touching the bird. incensed at his bad shooting, he then hurled the pistol at the bird and lucky circumstance-killed it! this joke has been following buffalo bill ever since the return of the expedition, and it will probably dog his trails so long as he continues to be a crack shot. while i was in north platte i heard another excellent joke on bill, which furnishes too strong a temptation for me to resist relating : it is well known that he is the most liberal giver in nebraska. although far from be- ing a church-goer, he nevertheless, contributes to the church with a wonderful liberality. when the first fine church building was completed in north platte, proposi- tions were made for opening it with grand dedicatory ceremonies. mrs. cody was anxious to have her hus- band attend, and continued to persuade him until he consented-not, however, until he had warned her that he was almost certain to make a “ bad break in meeting.” in opening the song service the choir occupied a choral > heroes of tiie plains. gallery in the front part of the church, and the leader chanced to be a lady who, while she was an excellent organist, had a screechy voice tuned in so high a key that no one could follow her. nevertheless it devolved on her to start the tune, both by voice and instrument. she began : “my soul's in arms—ten thousand foes arise;" but she saw the key was pitched up about seven octaves above the door-step of heaven, so she halted a moment, and again started: “my soul's in arms-ten thousand foes arise." but she got it down not more than a single note, which left the other portion of the choir and audience on their tip-toes, and even then they wanted several feet of reach- ing the summit of the air. bill turned half-way round in his seat, and looking up toward the aerial singer, cried, “start it at five thousand, and maybe we can get in." the audience were unable to control their risibili- ties, while bill accepted his wife's invitation to retire. such jokes as these are numerous as blades of prairie grass about north platte, buffalo bill always figuring as the chief character. i never enjoyed a visit so much as the brief one i paid buffalo bill, and not more to him than to his most estimable and handsome wife am i indebted for courtesies which i shall ever regard as souvenirs of a jolly time in north platte. buffalo bill is still conducting his successful theatrical combination, and for the season of - is playing the “ prairie waif” and “ knight of the plains.” with his troupe of twenty-four artists are four winnebago chiefs, and dr. frank powell, the great medicine man of the sioux tribe. >> california joe. (harper's weekly.) life of california joe. chapter i. the man in the iron mask and the author of the ju- nius letters are the great unsolved personalities of history; but while a comparison between these and california joe would appear, in some degree, ridiculous to the esthetic student of human nature, yet in so far as identity alone is concerned they were not altogether unlike; though the character of the wandering jew would afford an alto- gether more appropriate resemblance when considering alone the odd traits and singular adventures of this great plainsman. who was california joe? this question many may consider themselves able to answer, but no one, perhaps, can distinguish between the california joes who have figured in so many escapades attributed to this enigmatic character, for there has been more than one person to adopt the title. where was he born? no one will at- tempt to answer. the california joe who hunted, trail- ed, fought and slept beside gen. custer and buffalo bill is believed to have been a native of kentucky. buffalo bill maintains that his real name was joseph milmer, while capt. payne declares that his name was joseph hawkins, and, as a further proof of the claim, asserts that joe was a distant relative of daniel boone, and also his (payne's) third cousin. we are only able to say, heroes of the plains. therefore, that california joe was singularly reticent con- cerning his early life, and died at last with his full iden- tity unsolved. for what facts i here present concerning his life i am indebted to buffalo bill and capt. payne, and it is this reason which has prompted me to respect the opinions of each by giving their assertions, not, how- ever, with any desire to involve them in any further dis- cussion concerning joe's real name. the first thrilling adventure in which california joe participated, of which i have any information, may be described as follows: in the summer of a party of sixty-five hardy ad- venturers from kentucky, with california joe as their leader, attempted an overland journey to california, be- ing impelled by the golden stories of newly discovered wealth along the san juan. they proceeded without in- terruption for several weeks, when they reached a cañon near pueblo. here a camp was made just before night- fall, and as the party had never been initiated into the perils of indian treachery, they did not consider the im- portance of anticipating and guarding against an attack from these prairie nomads. during the still hours of night, when the entire party was sound in slumber, perchance dreaming of vast treas- ures and the exaggerated blessings which wealth provides, a band of two hundred vindictive cheyennes descended, likes wolves upon the fold, from the hillsides, and poured into the camp before there was even a suspicion of their proximity. lance and arrow, tomahawk and war club, soon destroyed the bright dreams, the golden anticipa- tions, and out of the party of sixty-five only two escaped, one of whom was california joe, but even he was badly wounded. (two persons who were well acquainted with joe during his life assert that his wife and two little boys were killed at the same time.) life of california joe. ! in the darkness of the night joe succeeded in eluding the savages while they were mutilating and dancing over the bodies of his dead comrades, and crawling to the ar- kansas river, one mile distant, embarked on a log, upon which he floated down to ft. lyon, where he was taken out of the water and cared for. although this, his first experience on the plains, had been tempered with sore adventure, it was scarcely two months after this event when he again attempted the overland trip to california. he had with him this time but two companions, and having been chastened for his lack of precaution, he now fully appreciated the fruits of that lesson. a guard was therefore constantly main- tained, but even this did not avail against what appeared a decree of bitter fate. the three were attacked by twenty-five utahs, as they were passing through the gateway of the rocky moun- tains, and after a bitter struggle joe's comrades were killed and himself taken prisoner. the indians bound him securely on a pony, after which they started off northward with their prisoner. the terrible forebodings which his helpless condition prompted as he rode silently beside his cruel captors, as joe afterward expressed it, was " tearin' to a sinner's soul.” just before dark the indians halted in a valley beside green river and then deliberately began to make prepara- tions for punishing their victim. joe was first taken from the pony he had been riding and laid upon the grass, where he was watched by a single warrior, while the others busied themselves gathering dry wood, which they piled in a circle about a tree. the fiendish intentions of his enemies were now re- vealed to joe, for these preparations he knew meant death at the stake. seeing that his life was to end in california joe at the stake. life of california joe. than half a mile from the place where joe was being sacrificed. knowing that something was wrong, the trap- pers, fifty in number, rushed down toward the spot indi- cated by the cries, and approaching carefully they dis- covered the situation. with a deadly volley from their rifles, twelve indians dropped over dead with smoking pipes in their hands. another volley followed swiftly after the first, and when the trappers rushed to the res- cue of joe they found eighteen savages ready for the scalping. poor fellow ! the fire had wrinkled his buck- skin clothes, and so burnt the skin on his lower limbs that large pieces fell off; though the pain he suffered was most excruciating, yet the injuries were not of a serious character. he was taken to the trappers' camp and treated with all the consideration and kindness friends are capable of giving. upon his recovery, some weeks after his wonderful escape from the most horrible of deaths, joe became associated with the party in their oc- cupation, and followed trapping for more than a year in the company of his rescuers. chapter ii california joe's courtship and marriage, as told by himself, and repeated in sweet, pathetic story by one of nature's noblemen, capt. jack crawford, is unquestion- ably one of the most sympathetic and lovingly sorrowful recitals that was ever created by imagination or found in any of the peculiar phases of human life. its reproduc- tion here will thrill the hearts of every lover of t. · most poble instincts of nature, and perhaps bring tears to the life of california joe. we mounted quick as lightnin'- to save was our desire. too late ; the painted heathens had set the house on fire. we tied our horses quickly, and waded up the stream ; while close beside the water i heard a muffled scream, and there among the bushes, a little girl did lie; i picked her up and whispered, “i'll save you, or i'll die!” > lord, what a ride! old bridger, he covered my retreat, sometimes the child would whisper, in voice so low and sweet, “poor papa ! god will take him to mamma up above; there's no one left to love me- there's no one left to love." the little one was thirteen, and i was twenty-two. said i; “i'll be your father, and love you just as true.” she nestled to my bosom, her hazel eyes so bright, looked up and made me happy, though close pursued that night. a month had passed, and maggie (we called her hazel-eye), heroes of the plains. in truth, was going to leave me- was going to say “ good-bye. her uncle, mad jack reynolds— reported long since dead- had come to claim my angel, his brother's child, he said. what could i say? we parted. mad jack was growing old ; i handed him a bank-note, and all i had in gold. they rode away at sunrise, i went a mile or two, and, parting, said : “ we'll meet again may god watch over you.” beside a laughing, dancing brook, a little cabin stood, as, weary with a long day's scout, i spied it in the wood. a pretty valley stretched beyond, the mountains towered above, while near the willow bank i heard the cooing of a dove. 'twas one grand panorama ; the brook was plainly seen, like a long thread of silver in a cloth of lovely green. the laughter of the waters, the cooing of the dove, was like some painted picture some well-told tale of love. life of california joe. while drinking in the grandeur, and resting in my saddle, i heard a gentle ripple, like the dipping of a paddle. i turned toward the eddy- a strange sight met my view : a maiden, with her rifle, in a little bark canoe. she stood up in the centre, the rifle to her eye; i thought (just for a second) my time had come to die. i doffed my hat and told her (if it was all the same) to drop her little shooter, for i was not her game. she dropped the deadly weapon, and leaped from the canoe. said she: “i beg your pardon, i thought you were a sioux s; your long hair and your buckskin looked warrior-like and rough ; my bead was spoiled by sunshine, or i'd killed you, sure enough.' "perhaps it had been better you dropped me then,” said i; “for surely such an angel would bear me to the sky.” she blushed and dropped her eyelids ; her cheeks were crimson red; one half-shy glance she gave me, and then hung down her head. heroes of the plains. i took her little hand in mine- she wondered what i meant, and yet she drew it not away, but rather seemed content. we sat upon the mossy bank- her eyes began to fill- the brook was rippling at our feet, the dove was cooing still. i smoothed the golden tresses, her eyes looked up in mine. she seemed in doubt—then whispered : . 'tis such a long, long time strong arms were thrown around me i'll save you, or i'll die.” i clasped her to my bosom- my long-lost hazel-eye. the rapture of that moment was almost heaven to me; i kissed her 'mid her tear-drops, her innocence and glee ; her heart near mine was beating, while sobbingly she said: “my dear, my brave preserver, , they told me you were dead. “but, oh! those parting words, joe, have never left my mind, you said: “we'll meet again, mag,' then rode off like the wind; and, oh! how i have prayed, joe, for you, who saved my life, that god would send an angel to guard you through all strife. life of california joe. “ and he who claimed me from you, my uncle, good and true now sick in yonder cabin has talked so much of you. • if joe were living, darling,' he said to me last night, • he would care for maggie, when god puts out my light.' we found the old man sleeping. “hush ! maggie, let him rest.” the sun was slowly sinking in the far-off glowing west; and tho’ we talked in whispers, he opened wide his eyes, “a dream-a dream!” he murmured, alas! a dream of lies!” she drifted like a shadow to where the old man lay, "you had a dream, dear uncle, another dream to-day?" oh, yes; i saw an angel, as pure as mountain snow, and near her, at my bedside, stood california joe." . i'm sure i'm not an angel, dear uncle, that you know ; these arms are brown, my hands, too- my face is not like snow ; now, listen while i tell you, for i have news to cheer, and hazel-eye is happy, for joe is truly here.” heroes of the plains. and when a few days after, the old man said to me, joe, boy, she ar' a angel, an' good as angels be; for three long months she's hunted an' trapped an' nurs’d me, too ; god bless ye, boy! i believe it- she's safe along wi' you." the sun was slowly sinking, when mag (my wife) and i came riding through the valley, the tear-drops in her eye, “one year ago, to-day, joe- i see the mossy grave- we laid him 'neath the daisies, my uncle, good and brave.” and, comrades, every spring-time was sure to find me there a something in that valley was always fresh and fair ; our loves were newly kindled while sitting by the stream, where two hearts were united in love's sweet, happy dream. there is another part to this beautiful story, founded as it is on fact, which, owing to its singular harmony with the sentiment expressed in this poem of capt. jack's, fur- ther illustrates the large-hearted devotion of california joe, and ought therefore to be added. it is as follows: an old trapper named reynolds, one of the very first white men that ever set foot in the black hills country, life of california joe. had settled on the yellowstone with his large family of children, among the number being a very beautiful little girl eleven years of age, whose name was maggie. she was not only of a winsome figure, lovely in feature and disposition, but also very precocious for one of her age. young as she was, nothing so charmed her youthful ambi- tion as the chase. with a rifle, the very weight of which was a burden scarcely to be borne by such tender shoul- ders, she day after day scouted in the vicinity of the old cabin, killing deer and even attacking more dangerous game, such as bears and wolves. one day little maggie went hunting, as usual, never straying far from home, but when night drew on apace she had not returned. the mother became somewhat anxious at her daughter's prolonged absence; but when darkness fell, and the hours of night sped by one after another, anxiety grew into alarm and a search was insti- tuted. father, mother, brothers, all joined in the hunt, each calling aloud, from time to time, the name of the lost one, but no response came. this search was contin- ued for several days and until the distracted parents finally concluded that the child had either been carried off and devoured by some wild animal, or had been kidnapped by the indians, the latter supposition occurring to them as more reasonable. some months after this sad occurrence, california joe while trapping on the yellowstone, visited old man rey- nolds, and during this visit was made acquainted with the circumstances of little maggie's strange disappearance. he at once exclaimed : " i'll bet a silver fox's skin that that ar gal is now with them thar tarnal cheyennes ; 'fact i already hearn thar was a white face 'mong them wretches.” hearing this assertion, mrs. reynolds began to lament, heroes of the plains. but between her sobs of grief she pleadingly inquired if there were any means by which her daughter could be rescued. “yer bet thar is,” replied joe, “and more than that, mrs. reynolds, i'll just undertake to find her myself.”' joe remained over night with the reynolds family, but on the following morning at an early hour, he gathered up his rifle and bidding them good bye, set off in search of the little girl. he proceeded to a spot where he knew a party of cheyennes were encamped, with whom he had done some trading only a few days before. finding the indians, he selected four of the tribe he was best acquainted with, and after treating them to a large bottle of frontier whisky, he made a contract (stipulating more fire-water) with the savage quartette for the restoration of the child. these four indians set out directly to find a large village of their tribe located near the headwaters of the mis- souri. they not only succeeded in finding their red brothers, but getting into camp it was not long ere they also discovered the little pale face in the custody of an old squaw who was using maggie as a servant. by skillful insinuation they at length managed to com- municate with the little girl, and acquainted her with their purpose, arranging at the same time to meet her on the missouri river bank at midnight with a canoe, to carry her out of the village. the arrangement succeeded most admirably, as the girl, young as she was, employed so much care and cunning that she stole away from the side of her sleeping guard and got out of the tepee without discovery. she then hastened to the trysting place, where she was received by the four waiting indians, who conveyed her down the river in their canoe to a spot designated by california joe. heroes of the plains. of joe and mr. and mrs. reynolds, the latter being a true frontiersman's wife, knowing how to shoot as well as most crack shots. a lively fight ensued, but protected by the cabin, the party inside sustained no injury, while they succeeded in killing five of the indians. the coun- try, however, had now become too dangerous for a longer residence on the yellowstone, and the reynolds family speedily abandoned their home and fled southward with joe to the north platte. it has been asserted that california joe married the little girl he had thus rescued, six years afterward, but it is possible that the name of the girl, maggie, being the same as that of his wife, gave rise to this belief. the circumstances, as here related, concerning the rescue of reynolds' daughter, are undoubtedly true, but that he married this same girl afterward is scarcely worthy of belief. joe himself related the story of his marriage to capt. jack, who undoubtedly truthfully repeated it in the beautiful verses already quoted. chapter iii. in california joe removed to oregon, where he continued trapping and prospecting until the civil war broke out, when he returned to the states, and shortly afterward joined berdan's sharpshooters, among whom he was regarded as far the most skillful marksman in that arm of the service. the following incident is told of him by a war corres- pondent of harper's weekly in reporting the first siege cf richmond in : c life of calİfornİa joe. “ a rebel sharpshooter had been amusing himself and annoying the general and other officers by firing several times in that direction, and sending the bullets in un- pleasant proximity to their heads. • my man, can't you get your piece on that fellow who is firing on us, and stop his impertinence?' asked the general. ".i think so,' replied joe; and he brought his tel- escopic rifle to a horizontal position. “do you see him?' inquired the general. "i do.' « how far is he away?' . fifteen hundred yards.' “can you fetch him?' "i'll try.' “and joe did try. he brought his piece to a steady aim, pulled the trigger, and sent the bullet whizzing on its experimental tour, the officers meanwhile looking through their field glasses. joe evidently hit the fellow in the leg or foot, for he went hobbling up the hill on one leg and two hands, in a style of locomotion that was amusing." the picture of california joe given at the commence- ment of this sketch, is from a photograph taken during the siege of yorktown, by harper's special artist, and represents him in his position picking off the confeder- ate gunners. the personality and situation are there- fore true to life. at the close of the war joe became connected with gen. curtis, for whom he trailed and did guide service for several years, following him in the wachita campaign, and afterward with the command scouting through ne- braska and dakotah. in gen. custer's work, “my life on the plains," that gallant officer gives the follow- life of california joe. his military armament consisted of a long, breech-load- ing springfield musket, from which he was inseparable, and a revolver and hunting-knife, both the latter being carried in his waist-belt. his mount completed his equipment for the field, being, instead of a horse, a finely formed mule, in whose speed and endurance he had every confidence. * “california joe was an inveterate smoker, and was rarely seen without his stubby, dingy-looking briarwood pipe in full blast. the endurance of his smoking powers was only surpassed by his loquacity. his pipe frequently became exhausted and required filling, but california joe seemed never to lack for material or disposition to carry on a conversation, principally concerning personal adven- tures among the indians, episodes in mining life, or expe- rience in overland journeying before the days of steam engines and palace cars rendered a trip across the plains a comparatively uneventful one. it was evident from the scraps of information volunteered from time to time, that there was but little of the western country, from the pacific ocean to the missouri river, with which california joe was not intimately acquainted. he had lived in oregon years before, and had become acquainted from time to time with most of the officers who had served on the plains or on the pacific coast. i once inquired of him if he had ever seen general sheridan. he answered : what! general sheridan? why, bless my soul, i knowed sheridan away up in oregon more’n fifteen years ago, and he wuz only a second lieutenant uv infantry. he was quartermaster uv the foot, er suthin' o' that sort, an' i hed the contract fer furnishin' wood to the post, an', would yer b'leve it? i hed a kind uv a sneakin' no- tion that he'd hurt sombody ef they'd ever turn him loose. lord, but ain't he old lightnin'!' life of california joe. bin with 'em on the plains whar they started out after in- juns on wheels jist as ef they war goin' to a town fu- neral in ther states, an' they stood 'bout as many chan- ces uv catchin' injuns ez a six-mule team would uv catchin' a pack of thievin' ki-o-tes, jist as much. why, thet sort uv work iz only fun fer the injuns ; they don't want any- thing better. yer ort to've seed how they peppered it to us, and we a doin' o' nuthin' all the time. sum uy 'em wuz afraid the mules war goin' to stampede an run off with ther train and all our forage an’ grub, but thet wuz impossible ; fer besides the big loads uv corn an' bacon an' baggage the wagons hed in ’em, thar war from eight to a dozen infantry men piled into 'em besides. yer ort to her heard the quartermaster in charge uv the train try- in' to drive the infantry men out uv the wagons and git them into ther fight. i 'spect he wuz a irishman, hy his talk, fer he said to 'em : “git out uv thim wagons; get out uv thim wagons; yez'll hev me thried fer disobadi- ance uv orders for marchin' tin min in a wagon whin i've ordhers fer but ait. i have quoted somewhat liberally from gen. custer, be- cause that which is repeated above affords an excellent basis upon which to form an opinion of california joe's unique peculiarities. old joe was, however, of so much importance that custer devotes several pages of his book to a rehearsal of the droll adventures of this singular character. after custer's fight with black kettle, in which a great victory was gained, breaking the power of the cheyennes completely, california joe was selected as courier to carry the report back to gen. sheridan, whose headquar- ters were at camp supply. the journey was not more than one hundred miles, but it was through a country lit- erally beset with revengeful indians. black kettle's heroes of the plains. forces were, of course, dispersed in the battle and had divided up into small parties so as to facilitate their es- cape ; they had back-tracked in order to again reach the game country of the indian nation, and of this fact cus- ter was well aware when he requested joe to carry the dispatches, tendering him at the same time, a cavalry es- cort of fifty men. custer was, therefore, very much surprised to hear joe say that he wanted no escort and that the only companion he desired' on the trip was his “pardner,” jack corbin, whose peculiar characteristic was extreme taciturnity, the very opposite of joe, whose loquaciousness was almost phenomenal. it was a singu- lar attachment which bound these two men together, doubtless the desire of one to do all the talking while the other was contented only while doing all the listening. but whatever constituted the bond of friendship between them it was of a material of great strength. these two men, joe and corbin, set out from custer's camping place at nightfall and reached camp supply in less than twenty-four hours, though they had to make several wide circuits to avoid the indians. delivering the dispatches to sheridan, they received a message for custer in reply, and with a change of animals, returned to the latter's camp in just forty-eight hours from the time of their departure. during the operations of custer in the wachita moun- tains, and after the defeat of black kettle, while the command was encamped, california joe, capt. d. l. payne and four of the soldiers went out several miles from camp for a bear hunt. while riding up a cañon just across the boundary line of new mexico, joe, who was in advance, espied seven indians approaching up the same cañon in single file. in an instant he threw him- self sideways off his mule, which action was followed by life of california joe. the rest of his party. payne, not having observed the indians, and thinking that joe had seen a bear, eagerly inquired: “where is it, joe?” “look around that thar boulder and down ther cañon; thar's seven uv 'em,” was his reply. payne made the examination as directed, and then see- ing the indians, remarked : " those are indians, joe, and perhaps they are coming in to surrender themselves, or make peace. what do you propose doing?' “what do i p’rpose ter do? why, i p’rpose to take thar scalps; we'll jist drop behind this here boulder, an' when they come up we'll bag 'em, hide an’ all.” “no, no, joe, that isn't right; we ought to first decide whether they are hostiles or not; the fact is, i believe they are peaceable indians, or else they would not be riding so leisurely this near custer's camp.' “look a hyar, cap, when i make up my mind to kill injuns no man can pervent me,” replied joe, and quickly dropping his pistol so as to cover capt. payne in a vital spot, he concluded the sentence by saying, “an' ef i find it necessary i'll have ter drop yer first; yer jist keep right still, er off goes yer brain-pan.” " all right, joe,” payne answered, “you have the drop on me, but i am not afraid to tackle you in a fair way, even chances, if you are sufficiently offended by my protest to want satisfaction. however, if the majority of the boys favor killing the indians, then i am satisfied to do my part of it.” the soldiers favored joe's proposition, and they there- fore awaited the approach, with guns ready. when the sav- ages came within about thirty-five yards of the ambush, payne noticed that the pony ridden by the leading indian >> heroes of the plains. began to sniff and throw his ears forward, which they invariably do when catching the first scent of a white man. now is your time, or we will be detected," "and with this remark the six turned loose their rifles, dropping as many indians, and as the seventh and last one turned to run, another shot wounded his pony and he was thus placed at the mercy of joe. but the quality of that mercy was quickly illustrated, for in a moment a ball from the old scout’s rifle penetrated the warrior's brain, and then there was work for the scalping knife. joe, with a wave of his hand, said: “now look a hyar, boys, you can have the fixtures, but the scalps ar' mine.' he then drew his large hunting knife, and mechanically raising the head of each dead indian, one at a time, he dexterously cut out a large circular piece of scalp and hair, cramming each scalp into his waist-belt as it was extir- pated. this adventure terminated the hunt, and they returned to camp with the trophies of their conquest. shortly afterward the command was ordered to ft. hays, and there joe sold his seven scalps to curiosity lovers, and scouts who were ambitious for the reputation of indian killers, at the rate of five dollars each. chapter iv. california joe was a born hunter, trapper and guide, but he seldom followed either of these employments for any considerable length of time, rather pursuing them in rotation as if to extract all the enjoyment that was to ناله از california joe attacked oy a panther. heroes of the plains. in california joe and jack corbin, his old partner, went to the black hills to try their luck in gold mining. they built a small cabin at a point where the indications were good, but after digging for some time without reaching pay dirt, they california joe saves his friend life of california joe. it was started another prospect hole about five miles further up the mountains. here their work was prosecuted with much vigor and some profit. on one occasion joe had gone back to the cabin for some blasting pow- der, all their heavy articles being stored at that place, leaving corbin alone for the time being. upon his re- turn, and when within a short distance of the prospect hole, joe heard his partner shouting for help. he rushed forward with all possible speed, and just as he reached an opening commanding a view of the spot where the mine was being put down, he saw corbin down upon one knee battling with a large, powerful sioux indian, whose knife was being uplifted for a fatal plunge. scarcely an instant, so quick, in fact, that the knife had not begun to descend, when joe raised his rifle and sent a ball crashing through the indian's heart. after his marvelous rescue from death, corbin related to joe the circumstances of the attack substantially as follows: “i was working on the shale at the side of the pit, and just as i came to the top for the purpose of empty- ing the bucket, before i had a suspicion of an indian's presence, this fellow (poking the dead indian with his foot) leaped on me, and as his strength was far greater than my own, i was borne to the ground and had to fight with my bare hands to prevent him from stabbing me. i maintained this unequal contest for several minutes, keeping hold of his wrists, with all my might, shouting for you all the while, for i felt that unless assistance came soon my doom was sealed. at length he released his right hand, and was in the attitude you saw him when that blessed bullet fom old never fail' picked me up out of the very jaws of death." some weeks after this incident another move was made heroes of the plains. in search of better paying dirt, the next location being on the side of an adjacent mountain about the same dis- tance (five miles) from their cabin. it was customary for the two miners to carry their provisions and cooking utensils with them on a small burro, so that they were not compelled to return to the cabin at the close of each day's work, especially as the weather was so delightful as to permit a comfortable sleep on the ground, where, in fact, it was cooler, and therefore more pleasant, than down in the valley where their cabin was situated. corbin was sent over to custer city after new supplies, shortly after their last location was made, and during his absence california joe, being unable to work in the pit without assistance, concluded to prospect over the adjoin- ing district, entertaining a hope that he might make some great discovery by wbich to surprise corbin on his return. so, packing his patient little burro, he set out up the mountain side, carrying his rifle and pistol with him. after searching for some time he found what appeared to be excellent surface indications of gold, and here he tied his little pack animal and began to work with his pick. in working around over the various places he left his gun lying on the ground some distance from him. pretty soon his attention was attracted by an “ugh! white man!” the voice and sound of which immediately apprised him of an indian's presence. joe quickly grasped his pistol, but before turning round looked over his shoulder and saw an indian holding his (joe's) gun, and looking at him with a very demure countenance, while some dis- tance in the background were two others watching the proceedings. knowing with what dread the indians re- garded him, joe spoke out. “ugh! white man, yes ; california joe. come on fight.” life of calİfornia joe. by this time joe had. his pistol presented, while the indian, profoundly astonished at meeting an adversary “ugh! white man!” of such known powers, changed his demeanor, and ad- vancing, proffered joe his hand. instead of attacking heroes of the plains. . him as they had intended, the indians made many over- tures of friendship, and returning joe's gun, they soon afterward departed. the first indian, who had crept up and secured the gun, evidently believed that he could intimidate the owner, who was left with nothing but a pistol to fight three indians; but the magic in the name of california joe” changed their purpose. this wonderful dread of one man, and of california joe in particular, was illustrated before, in , as will be found related in the life of captain payne, whose escape from a frightful death was due entirely to the belief entertained by a large body of indians who had surrounded him and two others, that one of his comrades was california joe. chapter v. during gen. crook's expedition to the big horn country, california joe proffered his services, which were gladly accepted. all the regular army boys were warm- ly attached to him on account of his droll character and excellent fighting qualities, and when he came into camp they gave him a genuine ovation. buffalo bill was a special favorite of joe's and to be with him joe would sacrifice almost any interest. the principal reasons for this attachment were found in the rollicking freedom, gen- erosity, true grit, and infecticus good humor of bill, and chiefly, it may also be added, because of bill's extraordi- nary good skirmishing and nosing qualities for “ sour mash,” of which grain, extraction joe was passionately fond. as bill would divide his last cent with a comrade, life of california joe. > he was no less noted for dividing his last “ drop" with a friend, and joe was always a solicitor for that “drop.” after the command reached the big horn mountains and was moving in daily expectation of meeting the sioux, bill called joe to his tent one evening while they were in camp, and said : “ joe, now you have been with this expedition for more than two weeks without being on the pay-roll. general crook is glad to have your services, and there is no reason that i know of why you cannot be regularly engaged as a scout, and thus draw a salary of five dollars per day. if you would like the service i will see crook and have you engaged. what do you say to the proposition ?” “oh, i don't know 'bout this here scoutin' with crook; 'pears to me i wouldn't jist like it,” replied joe. • well, i don't see what your objection is; it is only your own interest that i have in view ; the service is well organized and crook is a splendid officer. what is the trouble?” bill urged. " i've got reasons of my own,' responded joe. bill waited some moments for further explanations, but hearing none he inquired: “well, joe, you have no objection to telling me, have you, why you can't expect proper treatment from gen. crook?" the reply was fully characteristic of joe. putting on an innocent and injured look, he responded : “ fact is jist this, bill, and i don't mind tellin' uv you, because you are my friend and i know it won't go any further, i'll never scout for any 'tarnal gover'ment officer that won't furnish pie to his men. now, thet's my reason.' bill was, of course, fairly convulsed with laughter at the joke joe had thus perpetrated on him, and the only life of california joe. oh,” replied joe, “ that's ther way they treat some uv the boys that they think will stand it. i tell you thet them thar canned goods belong to ther soldiers, and ef you'll do as i did they'll give yer all yer want.” “ well, what must i do, joe?" “why, jist go up boldly to thet ther commissary with ther list yer want, an' ef he refuses to giv’’en to yer, knock him down an' take what yer want. them commis- sary fellers thinks they're 'fernal smart : yer've got ter teach 'em thet they ain't, thet's all.” believing implicitly every word joe had said, the sol- dier, who was a large double-jointed descendant of the grampian stock, immediately started off to get the can- ned goods peaceably if he could, forcibly if he must. having made out a list of what he wanted, the private called on the commissary and put in his request. “where is your order ?" asked the commissary. “here's my order, and i want it filled," replied the soldier. “ we don't recognize that kind of an order here; you must- but the sentence was left unfinished, for the great right hand bower of that enraged soldier fell so heavily against the commissary's right eye that he would have been falling yet, perhaps, if some friend had not caught him. the soldier then leaped over the counter and help- ed himself, and he took care not to be stingy about the quantity either. this soldier who was bound to have his "rights” was duly arrested and brought before colonel mills, who gave him a severe sentence, but learning the part that joe had acted, released him after an imprison- ment of one day. the colonel afterward asked joe why he had so deceived the soldier, and was answered: “oh, i didn't mean any harm ; only i wanted to hev a little fun." heroes of the plains, there is one more humorous incident arising from joe's love of practical joking, that must be included before closing this brief record of his life. the crook expedition, with col. anson mills command- ing, was passing through yellowstone park at a late hour one afternoon, when, reaching a spot within a mile of the intended camp for the night, joe came across an old grave, before which he stopped and reverently uncovered head, appearing at the same time to be much affected. of course the boys who saw him in this attitude—and it was nearly the entire command—were anxious to know the cause of his singular action. his reply was as fol- lows: - this hyar is the grave of poor amos billings; i helped to bury him in this spot ’way back in ' . yer see there wuz a party uv twenty uv us, an’ we hed been up to the black hills a diggin' gold. we found so much uv the precious stuff thet we actually loaded ourselves down with it. every man hed his mule loaded to the las' poun' it could carry, and besides this we all hed our pockets full. in fact we hed to leave a lot uv it behind, becos we couldn't carry another ounce. well, when we got ter this place we went into camp; an' thet night poor billings took ther cramps. lordy! how he did suffer, is awful fer me to think uv now. we did everything in our power to help him, but, poor fellow, he died, and here is whar we buried him. as all uv us already hed all the gold we could carry, we buried billings' gold with him, includin' what his mule was a carryin', fer none uv us considered thet we hed any right to it. poor amos billings ! here is one tear more to moisten yer grave. shortly after dark, when the command had gone into camp, the entire force under col. mills attacked “poor amos billings' grave," and no body of men ever worked lİfe of california joe.. harder and with greater expectations than they. when the excavation had reached a depth of about ten feet, with a most astonishing circumference, they found- nothing but some old bortes ! joe had conceived this monstrous lie almost as soon as he discovered the grave; and though he placed the date of burial almost anterior to his own birth, the “golden story” turned the soldiers wild, and as he looked around and saw the deserted camp, he only murmured, " what 'fernal fools these fellers be!" notwithstanding the fact that nearly every one who enjoyed his acquaintance was his friend, joe died the vic- tim of the most damnable assassination. on the th day of december, , while sitting in front of his cabin at red cloud, dakotah, performing some little duty, a cowardly fiend slipped up to the corner of the cabin, where, from a concealed position, he shot poor old joe to death. it was a most terrible murder, which could find a parallel only in the assassination of his friend, wild bill, only four months before, and, deplorable to relate, joe's murderer made good his escape and has never since been apprehended. n.qrr.ch.s. kit carson and his blind horse. life of kit carson. ! chapter i. son. no character of which history gives any account pre sents more anomalous peculiarities than that of kit car- his whole nature was enigmatic, for no two per- sons, however intimate they might have been with him, whether on the plains or in the councils of white men or indians, could agree in their estimation of his traits of character. like the temple of janus, he always pre- sented two or more unlike sides, each so distinctly prom- inent that those about him were invariably diverse in their opinions respecting his disposition. he was, ap- parently, at once the polished gentleman and the rough plainsman ; shrinking from and courting danger at the same time; an adviser and the reckless mad-cap of his companions ; large in his own estimation, yet modest and most unpretentious among his associates; a lover of peace, though still the organizer of discord. in brief, he was unlike any person save himself alone, and had it been possible his spirit would certainly have abandoned its own castle, so as to present a perfect dissimilarity. these strange peculiarities will be partly seen in the fol- lowing biographical sketch, which pretends to no other merit than that of a faithful portraiture, after a thorough consideration of all the available facts connected with his remarkable career. heroes of the plains. christopher (kit) carson's birth-place has been va- riously located, and all authors who have attempted to write the history of his adventures have usually prefaced their labors with an argument attempting to prove their respective claims, some asserting that he was born in kentucky, others in illinois, and yet others claiming missouri as his place of nativity. the opinion of the writer, gained from proofs adduced by peters and bur- dett, both of whom have been carson's biographers, is, that his native place was madison county, kentucky, where he was born on the th of december, . in the following year, the family removed to what was then upper louisiana, but what is now missouri, settling in a region of country which, at this time, is defined as how- ard county. gen. john c. fremont, during his great exploring expedition through the west in the years - , en- ployed kit carson as his chief guide, and in giving an exhaustive report of his travels and discoveries devoted much space to a description of the renowned hunter and his wonderful adventures. the general, in this report, claims that carson was a native of boonslick county, missouri, but as there is no such county in that state the assertion furnishes the proof of its own error. probable, however, that gen. fremont meant boone county, which adjoins howard, and as missouri was not organized into counties until some time after carson's birth, being ceded to the united states by france in and admitted as a state in , the causes which led to such an error are manifest. another important fact in this connection affords a still readier means for determining the cause of the error referred to, and also the reasons which induced a removal of kit carson's father to missouri, may be stated as follows: it is very lİfe of kit carson ./ . directly after the formation of the territorial govern- ment over missouri, the great salt springs of howard county, bearing the name of “ boonslick,” in honor of daniel boone, the famous kentucky woodsman, became the center of attraction to all emigrants seeking homes west of the mississippi river. although this section of the country was occupied by numerous bands of indians, none of the tribes offered any hostility to the settlement of white men on their lands until the encroachments inci- ted cupidity and numerous crimes. these salt works were operated by major james morrison, and with such success that they became the means of a rapid building up of the new territory. one of the first offices opened by the united states for the sale of lands west of the mississippi was in the vicin- ity of boonslick in the year , when illinois had just been admitted to the sisterhood of states. it was imme- diately thronged with purchasers of lands which, the set- tlers, however, had already been cultivating. some of these had located themselves on the public domain as soon as it had been purchased by the united states, and fore- going personal safety and the comforts of refined society, had plunged into the wilderness and carved out homes with their own hands. among this number was the father of kit carson, who became possessed of a fine tract of land on bonne femme creek. in the year , when the infant kit came to mis- souri, the territory contained a population of , souls, and but a single newspaper, the gazette, which is still running as the missouri republican, and is to-day the most important and influential paper published west of the mississippi. the primitive condition of the wilder- ness in which the brave hunter was to be reared, and the causes which led to his adoption of a hunter's life, des- heroes of the plains. tined to be so replete with adventure, can thus be readily conceived. the numerous indian wars which engaged the settlers during the years of to it is hardly appropriate to describe here, especially since the father of kit carson rarely participated, or if he did no record is available from which the circumstances may be gathered. kit carson, at the age of fifteen, had already become an expert with the rifle, having manifested a passion for hunting at an uncommonly early age. day after day he would wander through the forests, wholly unaccompa- nied, in pursuit of bear, deer and wolves, exhibiting especial delight in meeting with the largest species of the former, hundreds of which became victims to his aim before he was scarcely more than a dozen years old. he exhibited a more ardent desire for adventure as he grew older, and in , hoping to find opportunity for a grati- fication of his longings, he joined a band of traders in an expedition from st. louis to santa fe, new mexico. during this trip no special incident occurred beyond the accidental shooting of one of the party, which necessi- tated the amputation of an arm. in the performance of this surgical operation carson, because of the assistance he proffered and the nerve he exhibited, was called to act the chief part. the instruments used consisted of a razor, hand-saw and an iron bolt; the latter being heated to high temperature and used to cauterize the bleeding cut. although little skill was used in the operation, the wounded man recovered and served in subsequent expe- ditions. after the arrival of the traders at santa fe, carson abandoned the party and went to fernandez de taos, where he became intimate with a mountaineer and re- mained during the following year, engaged chiefly in breaking wild horses, which, after being caught, were life of kit carson. kept in haciendos until a rider could be secured to domes- ticate them. being thrown with mexicans exclusively, kit applied himself earnestly to the acquirement of the e kit carson employed as a horse tamer. spanish language, in which, after a year of study, he be- came sufficiently conversant to fill the position of inter- preter to a rich american merchant named trammell, heroes of the plains. with whom he made a trip to el paso and chihuahua. leaving this service a year afterward, carson became teamster in an expedition fitted out by robt. m. knight, for a trip to the copper mines on the gila river, but re- turning within a few months he again visited taos. having saved a few dollars from the services in which he had been employed, kit spent a few months in taos, and until an opportunity was offered him to join a band of forty trappers under ewing young. these trappers were organized into a well armed body in order to repel the attacks of indians, who bitterly resisted the attempts of white men to trap beavers on the waters of the gila or its tributaries. the party proceeded directly to salt river, one of the affluents to the rio gila, upon reaching which they were attacked by a body of indians, but the engagement was short and decisive. the indians were routed with severe loss, leaving eleven of their number dead on the ground, their flight being too hasty to permit of carrying the fallen ones with them. this was carson's first indian fight, but he displayed the rare presence of mind and cool de- cision of character which at once furnished the true index to the success of his subsequent adventures. after trapping with much success on the salt and san francisco rivers, the company broke camp and divided, one portion returning to santa fe and the other,.eighteen in number, including carson, started for the sacramento valley, california. in this dreary journey, rendered more difficult by the dry deserts through which the route lay, the party suffered greatly for want of both food and water. so reduced did they become before reaching their destination that availing themselves of the last re- source, they killed several of their horses, drinking the blood and consuming the flesh of the faithful animals. heroes of the plains. trapping in the company of captain john yount and twenty others, until the return of spring the following year. while wintering in camp a band of sixty crow, indians robbed the party of several horses, to recapture which carson was dispatched with fifteen men after the robbers. taking up the trail he followed the indians until he found them entrenched behind a rude fortification of logs with their horses tied within ten feet of their shelter. carson gave his men no time to reflect on the rashness of his undertaking, but ordering an immediate charge, rushed upon the protected savages, nor did he stop until he had seized the horses and led them triumphantly away. in this attack three of carson’s men were killed, but they were brought away, while five of the indians were slain, one of whom was scalped by carson himself. shortly after this daring attack, carson and captain yount's men were surprised by a force of two hundred crow indians, and the fleetness of their horses alone saved them from a massacre. · the attack having been made after due preparation by the indians, they pos- sessed all the advantages, not only in numbers, but also in effective fighting. no other recourse was there- fore left capt. yount's party but to retreat and trust to the fleetness of their horses for escape. the flight con- tinued under a rain of arrows and bullets for nearly fifty miles, the indians being determined to possess themselves of the scalps and property of the little band of whites. several of the party were killed, but carson escaped with only a slight wound. had all the indians been armed with rifles not one of the men would have escaped, but being able to keep a considerable distance in advance of their pursuers, the range was too great for the effec- tive use of arrows, and the few rifles the indians pos- sessed did all the execution. heroes of the plains. he procured the services of a utah indian to assist him in tracing the figitive. the trail was not definitely determined until the second day after kit and his companion had started out, but once they became certain of the discovery the speed at which their pursuit was conducted, after one hundred miles had been made, disabled the utah indian's horse so that he could proceed no further, and being unwilling to accompany kit on foot, returned again to the camp of his tribe. carson, however, not to be deterred in his un- dertaking, pressed on alone and after a half-day's further ride discovered the thieving indian riding one of the stolen horses and leading the five others. almost at the same moment that carson sighted the indian the fugitive also saw his pursuer, and a fight to the death each realized was inevitable. the indian, who carried a rifle and was re- garded as an excellent shot, besides being possessed of the courage to make his skill in an encounter most effec- tive, leaped from his horse and sought shelter. kit fully comprehended the tactics of the indian, and the distance being great between them he concluded to hazard a shot, knowing that he could reload before the indian could reach him, especially since he was mounted. therefore, stopping his horse, kit drew a bead on the indian as he was making for a tree, and fired. the aim was so perfect that the thief fell forward dead, with a bullet through his body. this shot was in a measure accidental, for the distance was fully three hundred yards, and the indian being at the time in a brisk run the aim was rendered more doubtful. the six horses were recovered and returned to the camp after an absence of six days, and for his services captain lee and robideau presented carson with a large quantity of peltries, which made the incident one of great profit to him. life of kit carson. in the following year, , carson, in company with three excellent companions, concluded to spend a season trapping on the laramie, a stream reputed to be fairly alive with beaver, otter and mink. the expectations of the party were fully realized a few weeks later, when they had pitched their tents on the banks of that clear, but sometimes doubtful river. in fact during all of carson's experience as a trapper, he never met with success equal to that which he found on the laramie. on one occasion, while he was acting as hunter, during this most profitable season, to obtain a fresh supply of meat, he met with an adventure so full of peril that he never afterward entertained the least desire to be similarly situated. game of every kind was very abundant, and within a mile of the camp he killed a large elk, but as he was proceeding to cut its throat, suddenly there appeared, coming toward him, a species of game for which he had not been hunting. a large grizzly bear, one of the most ferocious and dreadful denizens of north american forests, moved by hunger, resolved, apparently, to make the hun- ter its victim. time was just now very precious to kit, so that he made all possible use of his extremities in reaching the nearest tree, leaving his unloaded gun lying beside the animal he had just killed. the bear, not dis- covering the dead elk, made directly for kit, who man- aged, but just how he was never able to tell, to ascend a goodly sized tree in time to save himself from the vora- cious maw of the terrible beast. but his perch appeared decidedly unsafe, as the bear would rear up almost to the limb on which he was seated, opening its mighty jaws and blowing hot gusts of air through teeth nearly as long as a man's finger. at every lunge it made kit felt that the bear would surely reach him, and he would involun- tarily hitch up his legs while all the flesh would crawl as life of kit carson. the bear kept him a prisoner in the tree until nearly midnight, when it began to circle around the spot, grad- ually extending the circle until it at length scented the dead elk, upon which it speedily gorged itself, and then disappeared in the woods. kit got down from his anxious seat speculating on the probabilities of the bear's return, and though every bone in his body seemed to be splitting from the strain to which he had been subjected, he nev- ertheless made excellent speed toward the camp. his comrades had become very much alarmed at his pro- longed absence, and a safe return fully compensated them for their beaver supper, from which unsavory game they had been compelled to satisfy their hunger in the ab- sence of more desirable meat. after collecting several hundred valuable peltries, car- son and his companions went to santa fe, where the pro- duct of their season's trapping was disposed of satisfac- torily. but kit did not remain idle more than a few days, for he soon found opportunity of joining another party of fifty men bound for the blackfeet country, on the upper missouri. the trip was a long and tedious one, and in the end proved not only unprofitable but dis- astrous to several of the men, including kit himself, for they had struck a country in which none of them had ever been before, and to add to their other hardships they had penetrated a section of country held by a tribe of the most treacherous and cruel indians on the fron- tier, which made eternal watchfulness the price of their safety. shortly after the encampment of the party on big snake river, a band of blackfeet stampeded the horses of the whites and stole eighteen of their best animals. carson, to whom the whole company looked for needful assistance, at once proposed pursuit, and taking twenty heroes of the plains. ! ing on his left side. the cold had at last stopped the ebbing life current, but not until he was so weak that it became necessary to carry him back over the long route and through the deep snow to the trappers' camp. three others of the party were killed and four wounded, but those that were injured were fortunately able to ride. it was a terrible journey to kit, but he endured his suffer- ings with such fortitude that those who ministered to his needs could not comprehend how severe was the pain he felt. upon their return to camp, capt. bridger took thirty men and started out again after the depredating black- feet, but though he beat the country for more than a week, he was unable to find the trail, and so returned without accomplishing anything. soon after this unfortunate incident in the season on big snake river, the party left that immediate section and camped on green river, where they were joined by a large party of frenchmen and canadians who were trap- ping for the hudson bay fur company. the camp, by these accessions, numbered about one hundred men, a force sufficient to afford some security against hostile indians. carson was not long in establishing a most favorable reputation among the men, because, while some in the party knew how courageously he had always deported himself in moments of extreme peril, they all soon learned that under all circumstances he remained courteous and obliging, hence he was esteemed by all in the party. among the number of imported trappers was a large frenchman named shuman; a man particularly fond of bad whisky, and who delighted in bullying his companions. he was rarely engaged in a fight himself, because his ar- rogant boasts had intimidated nearly all the men, but not content with his own autocratic domineering, he found life of kit carson. pleasure in creating discord and embroiling comrades. on one occasion, while riding about the camp with gun in hand, shuman, among other indiscriminate insults, began a tirade of abuse directed against the americans, pronouncing them scullions and chicken-livered scoun- drels, who merited nothing but threshings with hickory withes for their cowardice and villainy. this unprovoked language aroused the spirit of carson, who stepped for- ward toward the boasting frenchman and said: “i am an american, and no coward; but you are a vapid bully, and to show you how americans can punish liars, i'll fight you here in any manner your infamous heart may desire.” shuman fairly boiled over with rage at this proposi- tion from a man so far inferior to him in size ; besides he had never before had his privilege of abusing the men questioned. he therefore replied: “ if you want to be killed i have no objections to shooting you as i would a dog. get on your horse and fight me, starting at one hundred yards and riding toward each other, firing as we come together. come on, you pale-faced little scullion !” kit returned no answer to this arrogant acceptance of his challenge, but mounting his horse he prepared for the duel. the two first rode apart, each divining the purpose of the other, until a proper distance was reached, when they wheeled their horses as if entering a race course under stipulations, and rushed toward each other. the entire camp was, of course, speedily apprised of the duel, and every trapper came out to witness the combat, the sympathies of the men being unanimously with carson. shuman was an excellent rifleman and had trained him- self to fire from his running horse by shooting buffaloes, and he therefore felt confident of putting a bullet through heroes of the plains. the head of his adversary. kit carried a pistol, but this was from choice, as he was an expert with this weapon. the two determined men rushed toward each other like the knights of mediæval chivalry, until within a few yards, when shuman raised himself in his stirrups, and, taking aim, fired. the bullet went so close to the mark that a lock of kit's hair was seen to fall, cut from above his ear. but the aim, though good, had not dispatched a fatal messenger, and shuman was compelled to take kit's fire. share carson's duel with the frenchman, the smoke from the frenchman's rifle was still rolling away over his head when carson presented his pistol almost as the heads of the two horses came together, and saluted his enemy. the ball struck shuman in the hand, and passing upward in the arm, lodged near the elbow. though not fatal, the wound was sufficient to thoroughly humble the desperado, and so change his disposition as to eliminate all braggadocio from his character. life of kit carson. chapter iii. soon after this incident the party of trappers returned to new mexico, and there carson joined capt. mccoy, who was outfitting for another expedition to the yellow- stone, in the blackfeet country. this party, consisting of a dozen men, upon arriving at the yellowstone, found no signs of either beaver or otter; so breaking camp, they set out to hunt a stream affording reasonable expec- tations for success. they continued to travel through a country supporting nothing but artemesia, which barely subsisted their horses, until all their provisions were exhausted and starvation seriously threatened the whole party. day after day went by and still neither game nor grass roots could be found until at length they were reduced to such dreadful extremities that to prevent death from star- vation, they bled their horses and drank the blood. hap- pily, when it was decided to kill one of the horses for its flesh, a body of snake indians appeared, from whom a fat pony was purchased and this the party killed and subsist- ed upon until they reached ft. hall after a rest of several days carson, mccoy and the other members of the party equipped themselves for an- other trapping expedition, this time intending to plant their traps on green river, but on arriving at that stream another party of nearly one hundred men was found who, meeting with no success, were preparing to leave for the head waters of the yellowstone, and if finding no game there had arranged to follow up to the missouri river sources. a consolidation was made between the two parties, who now selected carson and mr. fontenelle as their leaders. heroes of the plains. he was after prosecuting their operations for two months, a large number of peltries were secured, and the expedi- tion then broke camp and repaired to the trading post on nend river, where the skins were sold at a large profit. carson’s next enterprise was in trapping for beaver on the streams flowing from the rocky mountains into great salt lake. he took with him only a single companion, believing he could operate more successfully without be- ing restricted by the limitations of a large party, as the utah indians regarded him with friendly feelings but op- posed the invasion of their territory by any considerable number of white men. it was while trapping in this section that he met with an adventure of a truly thrilling character. walking along the bank of a stream where many of his traps were set, while his companion was back in camp pre- paring supper. carson had a large rifle with him, as was his custom, and seeing a turkey strutting along a few yards in advance, was preparing to shoot it when his at- tention was directed to a pair of fierce eyes gleaming from out the roots of a great tree. it was scarcely twenty feet away, and a moment's inspection convinced him that he was in the presence of a powerful mountain lion. to re- treat he knew would have invited the attack he felt was about to be made, so raising his rifle he fired, but there was such a profusion of snake-like roots surrounding the lion's body that his shot resulted only in an exasperating wound, as it struck the animal in the left shoulder. in the next instant the lion was upon him, roaring like its ancestral kith of african jungles. carson had no other weapon now save the large knife he carried, and with this he defended himself most valiantly. but the sharp poniard-like claws of the ferocious beast penetrated his flesh and cut like a two-edged sword. carson's shirt heroes of the plains. gen. fremont sent for carson, as soon as the presence of the great trapper became known to him, and a long inter- view between them resulted in the employment of carson as chief guide to the expedition, which left st. louis by steamer the d day of may, . the other members of the exploring party consisted of twenty-one men, principally creoles, charles preuso, first assistant in the topographical survey, and louis maxwell, of kaskaskia, illinois, who was engaged as hunter. the expedition disembarked from the steamer at the mouth of kansas river, and then struck across the broad prairies of kansas on to the platte river, for the explora- tion of which a large rubber boat was carried with them, which was very useful on several occasions. from the south platte they followed the oregon trail past fort laramie, and from thence on to the rocky mountains. just before leaving the platte, the monotony of the journey was relieved by a grand buffalo hunt, which gen. fremont describes as follows: “as we were riding quietly along the bank, a great herd of buffalo, some seven or eight hundred in number, came crowding up from the river, where they had been to drink, and commenced crossing the plain slowly, eat- ing as they went. the wind was favorable ; the coolness of the morning invited to exercise ; the ground was ap- parently good, and the distance across the praire (two or three miles) gave us a fine opportunity to charge them before they could get among the river hills. it was too fine a prospect for a chase to be lost; and halting for a few moments, the hunting horses were brought up and saddled and kit carson, maxwell and i started together. the buffaloes were now somewhat less than half a mile distant, and we rode easily along until within about three hundred yards, when a sudden agitation, a wavery in the heroes of the plains. o? " at a little distance kit was on the ground engaged in tying his horse to the horns of a cow, which he was pre- paring to cut up. among the scattered bands .at some distance below i caught a glimpse of maxwell, and while i was looking a light wreath of white smoke curled away from his gun, from which i was too far to hear the re- port. nearer and between me and the hills was the body of the herd, and giving my horse the reins we dashed after them. a thick cloud of dust hung upon their rear which filled my mouth and eyes and nearly smothered me. . in the midst of this i could see nothing and the buffaloes were not distinguishable until within thirty feet. "they crowded together more densely still as i came upon them and rushed along in such a compact body that i could not obtain an entrance—the horse almost leaping in a few moments the mass divided to the right and left, the horns clattering with a noise abuve ev- erything else, and my horse darted into the opening. “ five or six bulls charged on us as we dashed along the line, but were left far behind, and singling out a cow i gave her my fire, but struck too high. she gave a tre- mendous leap and scoured on swifter than before. i reined up my horse and the band swept on like a torrent into dangerous ground, a prairie-dog village, so thickly settled that there were three or four holes in every twen ty yards square, occupying the whole bottom for nearly two miles in length.” while gen. fremont was making his second attack on the herd, carson left the buffalo which he had killed and partly cut up to pursue a large bull that came rushing by him alone. he chased the game for nearly a quarter of a mile, not being able to gain rapidly owing to the blown condition of his horse. coming up at length to the side upon them. life of kit carson. of the fleeing buffalo carson fired, but at the same instant his horse stepped into a prairie-dog hole, going down and throwing kit over his head fully fifteen feet. the bullet struck the buffalo low under the shoulder, which only carson and the wounded buffalo, served to so enrage him that the next moment the infuri- ated animal was pursuing kit, who, fortunately not much hurt, was able to run toward the river. it was a race for life heroes of the plains. now, carson using his nimble heels to the utmost of their capacity, accelerated very much by the thundering, bel- lowing bull bringing up the rear. for several minutes it was nip and tuck which should reach the platte river first, but kit got there by a scratch a little in advance. it was a big stream, and deep water under the bank, but heavens ! it was paradise indeed compared with the hades plunging at his back, so kit leaped into the water trusting to prov- idence that the bull would not follow. the trust was well placed for the bull did not continue the pursuit, but stood on the bank and shook his fists-head-vehemently at the struggling hunter, who preferred deep waves to the horns of a dilemma on shore. kit swam around for some time, carefully guarded by the bull, until his position was observed by maxwell, who attacked the belligerent animal successfully with a no. slug, and then kit crawled out and-skinned the enemy. chapter iv. carson continued with fremont until the expedition re- turned to laramie, after fremont's ascent to the summit of the loftiest peak in the rocky mountain range. upon leaving the expedition carson returned to new mexico, where, in , he contracted a second marriage, espous- ing a mexican lady, with whom he lived happily for many years, and who gave him two children, a boy and a girl, the former, kit carson, jr., reaching manhood, but the daughter died while young. carson engaged his services again to bent & st. vrain, for whom he hunted and acted as courier, until, learning heroes of the plains. notwithstanding the fact that it was now almost mid- winter, the bold explorer had decided to pass through a new section of country, thereby adding to his discover- ies, upon the return. he therefore chose a route which would take him, first, to tlamath lake, and from there by southeast course to the great basin; thence to the buenaventura river, and from thence to the rocky moun- tains, at the headwaters of the arkansas, and then strike bent's fort, from which place the government trail would be taken for st. louis. this projected route for the return journey, or at least a greater portion of it, was practically terra incognita to white men, and therefore concealed obstacles which put to the severest test man's powers of endurance. the entire party consisted of twenty-five persons, com- prising six distinct nationalities, several of them being under age, one of whom, a son of hon. thos. h. ben- ton, was only a lad. but provision having been made, the journey was begun about the latter part of decem- ber with light hearts and joyous anticipations. two indian guides were engaged at vancouver's to conduct the party through to tlamath lake, which proved to be only a shallow basin containing a little water when the snows were melting during spring-time. from this lake they started for mary's lake without any guide save the compasses they carried. this journey brought them into a land of desolation, in which several perished from cold and starvation, their pack animals were lost, and progress made only by carving a highway through snow often twenty feet in depth. but as gen. fremont has himself graphically described the perils and terrible hardships of this expedition while searching for mary's lake and buenaventura river, it is useless to repeat the incidents of the expedition here. life of kit carson. fort sutter was not reached until the th of march, at which time the horses belonging to the expedition had been reduced from sixty-seven to thirty-three, from which, and considering the men who died and were lost, the terri- ble, almost unparalleled sufferings of the men in this unfor- tunate expedition may be approximated by the reader. those of the party who reached sutter were so reduced by privations they had suffered on the dreary route that each man was little more than an animate skeleton of skin and bone, and their horses were so poor and weak that not one could bear the burden of a rider, so that they had to be led. chapter v. upon returning from this second expedition, carson again settled at taos, and in the spring of was com- pleting arrangements with a partner named owens to start a sheep ranche. but before he became fully en- gaged in raising sheep, fremont had projected a third expedition, and for the third time called for carson's services. the two had become warmly attached to each other on their previous trips together, and an admiration for fremont influenced carson to again follow his old commander. the journey of this last expedition lay through the same country over which they had passed previously, but while there was no lack of suffering on this trip the par- ty experienced few trials to be compared with those met with before. after reaching sutter's fort the expedi- tion recruited and marched toward monterey, but were met heroes of the plains: en roate by gen. castro at the head of four hundred mex- icans, who opposed fremont's further progress and order- ed his immediate return. although fremont had but for- ty men, each one had been tried in the crucible of hard experience and knew how to meet any opposition, so by skillful tactics they evaded castro and moved on to monte- lu isho scene in taos, n. m. rey, where there were a number of americans ready to join them, appreciating the probabilities of a war between mex-' ico and the united states, which was then being prepared for. very soon after this the war tocsin was sounded, and life of kit carson. men. fremont, with carson as his first lieutenant, was duly en- listed for the fray, in which they contested with com- mendable valor and made their power felt throughout california. in carson was sent overland as the bearer of dis- patches from fremont for washington, but after proceed- ing eight hundred miles on the journey he met lieutenant gillespie, of the united states marines, who had been despatched from washington for the slope with thirty at the lieutenant's request carson's dispatches were entrusted to a mr. fitzpatrick for transmission and he returned with gillespie as guide to california. camp- ing one night on an island in salt lake, the little party was surprised and attacked by a party of tlamath in- dians, who brained five of the men with tomahawks as they lay asleep, one of the victims at the time lying be- side carson. after being aroused the remainder of the men attacked the indians vigorously and repulsed them with a loss of twelve warriors. when carson reached california again, fremont had attracted to his standard a body of two hundred americans, and at sonoma had declared the independence of the territory, and adopted the bear flag, which was ten- dered to commodore sloat, who raised the united flags over the camp. soon after this fremont was appointed governor of california, and carson was again sent to washington with dispatches apprising the government of the situa- tion on the slope. he performed this journey in sixty days, and then hastened his return to the field of action.. while a squad of fremont's men were maneuvering thirty miles from san diego, they were surrounded by a large party of mexicans, who cut off their retreat and threatened the little party's annihilation. the americans heroes of the plains. took position in a clump of timber, and there resisted attack until hope seemed exhausted. when night ap- proached, carson addressed the men, declaring that the only possible means for their escape lay in the possibility of communicating with the forces at san diego and secur- ing their assistance. but this plan seemed anything but feasible, as the mexicans had established a complete cor- don around the american squad and any attempt to break through the lines would certainly be detected. after counciling with the men for some time on the hopeless- ness of their situation, carson volunteered to make the attempt at establishing communication with san diego, and in this effort lieutenant beale offered to accompany him. the two therefore started out at midnight, and crawling on their hands and knees, they approached the first line of guards without detection. their shoes were then removed to prevent noise, and again they resumed their perilous progress, over rocks and through briars, each step lacerating their feet, and the breaking of each twig exciting the gravest fears of discovery. but the outlying posts were passed, and then they made all possible haste for san diego, which was reached shortly after daylight. the sufferings of this journey were so acute that lieutenant beale was for sev- eral days deranged from the effects, and did not recover his usual physical health until two years had elapsed. carson's feet were so badly torn and bruised that for a time amputation seemed necessary, and he was unable to walk again for nearly two months. but the object of their mission was accomplished, commodore stockton sending relief forward, which arrived barely in time to save the americans from massacre. after the close of the mexican war carson and his old friend maxwell settled in the beautiful rayedo valley, life of capt. payne the division to which payne was attached was detailed for duty at washington city and their service was little more than a strict observance of methodical military punctilios. every man was provided with white gloves, nobby uniforms resplendent with brilliant buttons, highly polished boots, and their guns were required to shine like the armor of de abigail, the ladies' knight-errant. after engaging in this elegant body service for a few months the division was ordered to trenton, n.j., where during a few days stay the following humorous incident took place: being called out for inspection one morn- ing, every man radiant with his bright regimentals, a dutch captain named schmit was found to be inspecting officer, contrary to expectations. this fellow, clothed with a brief authority and fierce moustache, but without the external dress of a fancy officer, marched up in front of payne's company with his breast thrown out like a dutch tobacco sign, and exclaimed, “one, two, tree !—front ! right dress !” executing the movements with a precision as if each was regulated by a vast system of clock-work inside the ample profundity of his naturally large abdo- men. extending his ungloved hands, the officer received payne's highly polished gun and began the inspection, when he was astonished to hear himself addressed in the following undignified manner. said payne : “i'd rather you wouldn't handle that gun without gloves.” turning as though he had been stuck sharply with a pin the dutchman hissed between his teeth: “vat you say, you veller mit so much lip?” i mean that i would prefer that you would not run your big sweaty hands over that gun,” replied payne. “ veller !” said the now doubly inflated teutonis repre- sentative of the faderland generalissimo, “ do do you know >> heroes of the plaiss. >> dot you vas speaking mit an officer, und dot i vill teach you how it vas you dalk like you don't know some- dings.” “i know,'' pleasantly answered payne, “that you are nothing but a d-d dutchman, and that i have long since learned how to talk to such roaring nobodies.” with a spring like that of an infuriated bovine, the dutchman leaped toward payne, at the same time throw- ing the gun with such force that it nearly knocked the owner down. this so enraged payne that he stepped out of the ranks and with the force of a catupult let fly his right fist which caught the officer under the chin, knock- ing him into the air like a trounced frog. the dutchman lit yelling like his hessian forefathers on the banks of the delaware a century before. “for got's sake, doan you kill your superior officer ! i'll haf you in der gaurd house; i make you built a whole fort, so help me by gracious! sergent, arrest dot man, i command you mit my power!” thus the sorely distressed inspectir.g officer cried, all the time inspecting himself rather than proceeding with that of the company. the sergeant did undertake to arrest payne, but when the attempt was made the non-commissioned officer used his best endeavors to arrest himself in a backward flight not wholly unlike that which the dutchman had just taken. finding his hand now well in, while the officer continued a tirade of abuse, payne made a second attack, and catching the already dilapidated dutchman by the collar and a convenient place about his posterior middle, drove him against the side of a house with such force that the beer, sausage and kraut of at least twelve months were thoroughly well shaken up. instead of attempting to rescue the unfortunate officer, ! lİfe of capt. payne. the boys in the company applauded the manual exercise with vociferous shouts of, "give it to him!” “knock the bung out of his beer reservoir !” “show up the kraut !” set down on him!” and other tender expres- sions appropriate to the occasion. when the excitement had somewhat subsided, the abject and most pitiable appearing inspecting officer was helped to his feet, and by painful persistency reached headquar- ters. on the same day payne was arrested and placed in the guard-house, but he managed first to telegraph his predicament to gen. tom ewing at. washington, who was a most intimate friend, and on the following day, before any trial was had, ewing had influenced secretary stanton to send a pardon, and thus payne escaped any punishment for humorously, but none the less ef- fectually, drubbing his superior. about two weeks after the incident just related, payne's company was ordered back to washington, and after the lapse of another week he was ordered to report, with a letter to gen. wenzle, at new york harbor. not under- standing nor inquiring what the errand meant, he obeyed his instructions and was much astonished, after seeing the general read the letter, to hear himself addressed as lieutenant payne, for he could not divine why the title had been bestowed. said he: “i guess you are mistaken, general. i am not a lieutenant." “well, then," replied wenzle, “this is strange; but maybe you have been sent to me to go on my yacht. are you a seaman?” payne, though he well knew his disqualifications for a seaman, nevertheless, feeling in the humor for fun and adventure, he promptly responded “yes,” and being re- quested, he went down and reported to the captain of the heroes of the plains. yacht. now, thinking the joke, or misapprehension, had proceeded far enough, he plainly told the captain that he knew no more about water service than a government contracter did of the golden rule. payne's astonish- ment was very much increased upon hearing the officer say that he wanted one man at least who was ignorant of marine service, and that he would be accepted to fill that vacancy. two days afterward, payne and a comrade were or- dered to man one of the yacht's s.all boats, for the pur- pose of taking two of the naval officers, with four elegant ladies, out on a pleasure ride in the harbor. payne knew nothing about rowing a boat, but for a time he tried hard, though his efforts only subjected him to the derision of the ladies and officers. at length, tired of his vain en- deavors, and being much piqued, he threw his oar out into the water, and then jumped in as if to catch it, but really, owing to the heat of the day, he only wanted a bath. after swimming around aimlessly he returned to the boat, and nearly upset it trying to get in again. all this occasioned much laughter, while payne so infused his comrade with a spirit of mischievousness that he too threw away his after the fun had proceeded some time, the officers or- dered payne and his companion in servitude to recover the oars and row the boat back to shore ; but this the iwo oarsmen peremptorily refused to do, and upon being threatened, payne told the officers that if they made any attempt at coercion he would throw them both out of the boat just as he had the oars. now, here was a great big dilemma for the officers, their embarrassment being spe- cially humiliating because of the presence of four beau- tiful ladies, before whom anything but a maintainance of official dignity and gallantry would be shocking. var. life of capt. payne. that if her father should be among the pursuers he would recognize the pieces as parts of her dress, and the party would thus be enabled to keep directly in the trail. miss white's father, however, was killed, while the husband of mrs. morgan, though desperately wounded, was found by friends and by careful nursing became convalescent, but not until after some months had elapsed. when mr. morgan grew able to ride, he went directly to gov. craw- ford, of kansas, and asked for assistance in an effort he proposed to make for the recapture of his wife. there were many who believed that mrs. morgan and miss white had been murdered, and that such an expedition as the anxious husband proposed was altogether useless. however, a short time after his conference with the governor, he received reliable information that both the women were still living and in the keeping of their first captors. gen. custer was commanding a body of gov- ernment troops in southern kansas at this time, and learning of the expedition proposed by morgan, he be- came anxious to enter a chase after the cheyennes. but before any definite action was taken, gov. crawford sent for capt. payne, for the purpose of consulting him as to the advisability of entrusting the expedition to govern- ment troops or to a volunteer force of kansas men. capt. payne at once advised a concerted movement with an organization of two or three companies of volunteers who would place themselves under the general command of custer. this action was deemed most expedient, be- cause the northern cheyennes had joined their southern brethren in the indian nation, and by a union of the two tribes had a force of fully one thousand warriors. the result of the interview was that the governor gave capt. payne orders to enlist from one to two hundred men and report to custer at ft. hays. payne returned heroes of the plains. directly to leavenworth, and in two days' time had raised a volunteer force of one hundred and fifty men, and had collected one hundred and seventy-five head of mules for the expedition. this force, of which payne was choser marching through the snow. captain, he took at once to ft. hays, and on the next day after his arrival there, november th, the entire command was mounted and the expedition started for the life of capt. payne. cimarron, along the banks of which stream it was re- ported the indians had recently been seen. the rigors of a bitter winter came on very early that year, and the expedition had moved only a very short distance, when, striking the lower ridge of the wichita range and cimarron cañons, the snow accumulated so rapidly that it offered the most serious impediments, it large number of their horses and mules being lost. the command, numbering about twelve hundred men, con- tinued maneuvering in the indian territory until the february following, when, owing to the extreme weather and inability to locate the indians, the expedition went into camp at ft. sill and remained for one week. at the expiration of this time the scouts brought in word that the cheyennes, two hundred strong, had been sighted only a few miles west. this information created great excitement in the camp, and preparations were made for an immediate move. accordingly, on the th of feb- ruary, the march was begun, the force having been in- creased by the employment of one hundred scouts, who went ahead - beating" the route in order to definitely locate the indians. gov. crawford had also joined the expedition, first resigning his position as governor of kansas in order to participate in the campaign. the cheyennes' trail was soon found and led soutwest- wardly for fifty miles ; then struck directly across the great salt plains toward new mexico. this desert spot, which is from sixty to one hundred miles broad, is one of the most wretchedly dreary and desolate stretches of country on the globe. it is covered by a thick, stubby growth of wire grass, which, in turn, is covered by a heavy incrustation of salt. in marching through it the greatest difficulty is experienced, for the feet sink down just as in a twelve-inch depth of snow covered with a life of capt. payne. close of the fourth day that the advance scouts reported the appearance of trees which margined the salt plains. when this truly glorious sight broke upon the vision of the suffering army, every throat, though dried by thirst like crispy parchment, found voice for praise, for it was verily like the harvest of life out of death. several of the horses died before they reached the ha- ven of growing vegetation and the purling of singing brooks. so sorely famished were the men that they broke their fast upon the dead carcasses. after reaching the cimarron river, although there was an abundance of pure water and grasses for their jaded and starved ani- mals, yet contrary to general expectation, no buffalo or other came was found, and the men were therefore at last reduced to the extremity of killing some of the remain- ing horses for meat in order to save themselves from death by starvation. capt. payne, who suffered all the privations endured by his men, was forced by the pangs of hunger to appease his appetite on the steaks of some of his faithful pack animals, and now makes the observa- tion that mule meat may not appear very palatable when included among the ample spread of a versatile menu, but on the occasion when he partook of it he felt that it was as delicious as the manna that heaven distilled to save the chosen of israel. after three days more of marching, bearing up under all their sufferings, the expedition reached a section of coun- try where prairie chickens and wild turkeys were abun- dant, and a general hunt soon provisioned the army for the time being. on the th of march the cheyennes were discovered encamped on a small tributary of red river, and imme- diately upon this fact being known preparations were made for an attack. when the indians learned the prox- heroes of the plains. imity of their pursuers, and finding how determined was the expedition, ten of the sub-chiefs were sent to custer as a peace commission for a “pow-wow.” among this decemvirate of chiefs were roman nose, the head chief, lone wolf, cross timber, eagle chief and yellow nose, five whose names were specially loathesome to the wes- tern settlers. when this body of treaty peace-makers came into camp custer immediately ordered their seizure, and then sent back word to the waiting tribe that he would hold the ten chiefs as hostages, and would kill each of them if the women were not delivered up. in answer to this the indians agreed to return the women, but declared they were not with the tribe but were in charge of the squaws at little robe camp, twelve miles below. they further asked permission to drop down to that camp, promising that they would return on the next day with the women. this request custer granted, feel- ing confident that so long as he had possession of the ten chiefs the tribe would not kill the women, nor would they attempt an escape. this action of custer was so bitterly opposed by all his men that only the most careful gener- alship prevented a mutiny. the indians packed up their things, and loading their baggage, squaws and children onto sleds they departed southward. custer, however, became somewhat anxious about the fulfillment of their promise, and to provide against possible ill-results, he followed with his entire force. when the command reached little robe imagine custer's surprise to find neither indians nor any evidence of a recent occupation of the place. the cunning chey- eynnes had taken advantage of the privilege and dispersed themselves like a brood of young quails when alarmed, not one being in sight. this result so annoyed the men that they all clamored life of capt. payne. for the execution of the captive chiefs, but custer and payne had influence enough to prevent this. on the foi- lowing day the scouts reported the appearance of indians departure of the cheyennes. lurking around the camp, and it now became evident that they were trying to discover what had become of their life of capt. payne. the other two ladies were given over to the care of the squaws, whose jealousy prompted cruelties as cunning as the inquisitorial torments. they were forced to perform the most trying and degrading labors of the camp, and during the winter time, when carrying wood and water, their fingers would become so cold that they could not resist the temptation to warm them by the fire; as it punishment for this act the squaws forcibly held the hands of the ladies in the blaze until their finger ends were burned to the bone and became charred stumps; yet even in this agonizing condition their labors were not abated, for the heavy cudgel compelled them to continue in the performance of duties almost too heavy for human endurance. nor did the night bring them rest, for their sufferings continued until sheer unconsciousness afforded a respite. it is almost impossible to conceive how na- ture, and, least of all, feminine nature, could survive so long under such exhausting and acute pangs of mental and physical torture. the cheyennes, who had escaped the annihilation they so justly merited, made off in a direction which caused grave suspicion that their purpose was to unite with other tribes in the territory and thus re-enforced fall upon the expedition before it could reach the sheltering forts of kansas. this suspicion was so natural that nearly every one in the command confidently expected an attack, which, if it had been attempted by the large number of indians whom tall bull might easily have influenced, would no doubt have proved successful. thoroughly comprehend- ing the probable danger of his position, gen. custer held a consultation with capt. payne, in whose judgment the entire command placed the greatest reliance. said custer, addressing payne: “ captain, we have got to send word to ft. hays at once ; some one must act a: heroes of the plains. imagine the spectacle of a little mule with a back as flex- ible as an indian's bow, and having its possibilities as thoroughly in hand. this very considerate animal would draw his back down until it resembled the trough of the the sea ; then letting go the spring suddenly, it would shoot up in the shape of a rainbow, permitting the rider to explore the upper currents of atmosphere, and then replace himself with a force as undignified as it was pain- ful. the fun of this thing, it may here be properly stated, was altogether with the mule and the spectators, for the captain was not allowed a sufficient vacation to discover the nub of the joke. this free-for-all, go-as-you-please performance contin- ued for some time without any intermission for refresh- ments, but becoming tired at last with his exertions to please the audience, this interesting mule deliberately lay down, in excellent imitation of the death scene in romeo and juliet, both of wbom, it is well known, gave up the ghost kicking—against the cruel injunctions of montague, or capulet, as you please. the persuasive prod, howev- er, brought the mule to life again for the second act, which, it is but justice to his memory to state, he went through with to the eminent satisfaction of his manager. away went the three daring couriers, each riding a mule and driving a pack animal before them who was laden with eighteen hundred rounds of ammunition, as a provisionary precaution in case of a siege. shortly after dark, as the party was clambering up the hills of western kansas, they suddenly found themselves almost within the camp of more than a hundred scalp-loving kiowas. jack cowan, in whom there was the moving spirit of the devil to dare danger, proposed riding through the camp on a run “just to see some fun,” as he expressed it. payne admonished jack that the nature of their mission life of capt. payne. was altogether too important for indulging in fun of that character. the three carefully backed out and went around the camp without being discovered, but on the following day, having passed ft. dodge and made an- other change of animals, in looking through the field- glass payne saw a body of indians numbering nearly one hundred and fifty, passing through a defile of the hills, evidently following the trail his little party had made. they had not long to await developments, for the paint, discovered through the glass on the faces of the indians, plainly told the purpose on which they were bent. payne and his comrades made off rapidly for a ravine in which they found the bank sufficiently high and abrupt to well serve their needs for a fortificaticn. as the in- dians came riding rapidly along the hillside near the ra- vine, jack cowan, being unable to restrain his impulsive nature, drew his carbine and sent a bullet after the leader, but instead of hitting the indian he struck the red-skin's horse in the head, knocking him down, and the hillside being steep the pony tumbled and rolled down so near payne and his comrades that their mules became very much frightened and tried hard to get away. the party being now discovered, a fight ensued in which three sturdy scouts were matched against fifty times their number. payne and picard fired a moment after cowan's first shot and two indians went down, one killed dead and the other badly wounded. the kiowas were armed with bows and arrows, and as the wind was blowing in hard gusts, they could not discharge their missiles with any accuracy at long range, and they were too cowardly to make a charge. the fight continued for nearly two hours, with the indians occasionally riding at great speed in a circle by their dead comrades, five of whom were now on the heroes of the plains. ground, and as they came rushing by each one would throw himself on the off side of his horse, and reaching down, try to drag away one of the bodies. this peculiar occupation afforded payne and his men no small amuse- ment, for the indians made no serious effort to charge or dislodge the little party. having at last secured and taken away their dead, the indians divided, a body of about fifty crossing the ravine, which was quite broad, to make an attack from the other side. payne at once changed his quarters so as to cover the exposed position, and so dexterously did he handle the indians now on his side that three of the enemy and two ponies fell victims to his excellent aim, while cowan and picard were equally active, and did such execution that the kiowas drew off a while to council. in about half an hour they came back on a dead run, each of the two parties circling by the ravine and turning loose a shower of arrows, only one of which, however, did any execution; this one struck capt. payne in the right shoulder, glancing, cut- ting a gash of considerable depth, but fortunately did not touch the bone. two more indians and one pony went down in the charge, and cowan, moved by that impetuous spirit which always distinguished him, jumped up on the bank of the ravine, and shouting to the ki- owas, took a long pull at his whisky bottle. seeing this act of bravado, several of the indians cried out, “ cali- fornia joe!” and so holy a horror had they of this great fighter, whom they believed cowan to be, that they im- mediately made off and were seen no more. payne and his party met with no further adventure until the following day, when, on the santa fe trail, they were again struck by a party of cheyennes who had already discovered and set upon bob wright, who was taking a freight train to santa fe. the three fought the life of capt. payne. indians so well that a respectable distance was main- tained. the pack mule, however, came near costing them very dearly; this animal was one of those plodding creatures that, with all the belaboring baalam could have ma a cheyenne warrior. inflicted, would not move out of a jog-trot. it was there- fore a fight under the disadvantages of a distressingly slow retreat, with nothing on the broad prairie to afford heroes of the plaİns. much better than the indians of her own tribe. when the chiefs broke out of the stockade and rushed on their guards this woman became so connected with the strug- gle that, under an apprehension that she was trying to assist the indians, one of the soldiers shot her in the side fatally. she lived some hours after the shooting, and being conscious up to the moment of her death, she explained that, instead of helping the chiefs, she was trying to take a knife from one of them, and had not the fatal bullet struck her she would have saved the life of one of the guards who was stabbed with the knife which the chief drew from her relaxing grasp. in capt. payne removed to sedgwick county, kansas, near wichita, and the following year was chosen to represent that district in the legislature. while serv- ing in the session of - , through his influence sedg- wiek county was divided and a new county formed of the northern part, which was called harvey. in the redis- tricting of sedgwick county one of its largest town- ships was named in his honor, “payne,” in which he now makes his home, owning a large ranche about ten miles northeast of wichita. in the year capt. payne became interested in a movement for the occupation and settlement of a district in the indian territory, which is known as oklahoma (beautiful land). this central spot in that beautiful country comprises one hundred thousand acres of the finest land on the american continent. he claims the right of white settlement on these lands under a treaty made by the government with the indians in , by which this district was ceded to the government as a public domain, and was afterward surveyed and set apart as such. through capt. payne's personal endeavors a large col- heroes of the plains. with their progress. the day following, at a mass meet- ing of the citizens of caldwell, resolutions were adopted indorsing the movement to settle the lands, and asking on to oklahom drilling the colonismo ase ees the president to order the troops to accompany the set- tlers to oklahoma as an escort. being unable to accomplish anything, either through petition or by endeavoring to influence congressional life of capt. payne. legislation, the colonists became restless, and shortly afterward capt. payne, having been arrested by the u. s. authorities, charged with tresspassing on indian reser- vations, the colony disbanded temporarily. the trial of capt. payne occurred at ft. smith, before u. s. district judge parker, on the th of march, . he was represented by judge baker, of st. louis, who argued at great length the character of the treaty of . the question raised over capt. payne's arrest involves directly the nature and validity of that treaty, and hence a means is afforded for testing a point upon which the secretary of the interior and the ablest lawyers of the country are at variance, the latter holding that oklahoma is a part of the public domain, and subject to pre-emption and settlement like all other public lands. personally, capt. payne is one of the most popular men on the western frontier. he is a natural scout, born and indurated to the hardships of adventure and campaign service. his mother is a first cousin of the celebrated davy crockett, for whom he was named, and from whom he seems to have derived a character which has led him into a similar life. unlike most heroes of the plains, capt. payne is a strictly temperate man, and is so far removed from the desperado and bravado that he is universally recognized as a dignified gentleman of no small talent in all the fields of labor where his services have been employed. he is in the very prime of life, of very large and powerful frame, with such a commanding presence, mild manners and agreeable deportment that he is by right esteemed as one of the most prominent men whose names are inseparably linked with the settle- ment of the west. . riches-coste capt. jack, (the poet scout.) heroes of the plains. midst of a rain storm such as is known only in the rocky mountains. the officers were seated around the camp- fire trying to extract some warmth from the smouldering buffalo chips, when one of them produced from his sad- dle-bags a canteen of whisky, and taking a long draught, with the remark, this is the soldier's best friend,' passed it to captain jack crawford. «« « thank you, captain, but i never drink.' "never drink!' resporded the officer, why it is al- most incredible ; you are the first man i ever met with on the plains who refused good liquor.' “yes, jack,' said several of the others who were in- terested listeners to the conversation, átell us how it is you are so strict a temperance man.' « • that stuff you are drinking,' responded the scout, robbed me of a good father, made him forget his own flesh and blood, and changed him from a man to a brute. that is not my only reason. years ago, when my poor mother was on her death-bed, she called me to her side, and holding out her thin white hand, asked me to prom- ise in the presence of my brothers and sisters, and in the invisible presence of god, that my lips should never touch the destroyer. gentlemen, i consider that that vow is registered in heaven, and i have kept it. i do not even know the taste of liquor. is my reason satisfac- tory?'" the misfortune which an ungovernable desire for strong drink invariably precipitates, so wrecked the crawford family that at a very early age little jack was compelled to contribute to the support of his mother with all the earnings his youthful and constant labors could create. his education was, in consequence, entirely neg- lected, and so little care was given to his instruction that not only was he never in a school-house, but at the age heroes of the plains. hills, and became the founder of custer city, gayville, and spearfish, in dakotah, and was one of the original organizers that laid off the towns of deadwood and crook city. in the indian campaign of capt. jack was second in command of gen. crook's scouts, and superseded buffalo bill as chief on the th of august of the same year, bill having resigned to reorganize his theatrical company for the season of - . as a horseman and rider capt. jack is extraordina- rily skillful, while as a scout and indian fighter he has honestly earned great renown. among his more celebra- ted rides may be mentioned one he accomplished in july, , when in response to a telegram he rode from med- icine bow, on the union pacific railroad, to the rosebud and little big horn, a distance of nearly four hundred miles in five days. this feat of wonderful speed and en- durance was performed, too, through a country literally swarming with hostile indians, several of whose camps and villages he was compelled to pass within pistol shot of. on another occasion, being engaged as a special mes- senger for the new york herald, whose special corres- pondent was with gen. crook's army, capt. jack car- ried an account of the battle of slim buttes to ft. lara- mie, a distance of three hundred and fifty miles, in less than four days. in accomplishing this unprecedented ride he passed five couriers and arrived more than five hours in advance of the fastest, but he killed two horses in making the journey, for which the herald allowed him $ . , besides giving him $ for the service. capt. jack's adventures have been numerous and thrilling, many of which he has related in verse, which he writes with terse fluency and rythm. in he join- ed buffalo bill's troupe and played a leading part for . sketch of capt. jack. two seasons very satisfactorily, but be preferred the wild life of the far west and returned to his old home in da- kota. during the late war, in , capt. jack was employed as scout and trailer and was engaged in several of the hot- test fights of that campaign. he was well acquainted with chief oura, whose friendly services he did much to secure and through whose influence with his people hostili- asema oura. ties were brought to an early close, and the captive meeker family restored to the whites. oura’s death occurred in on the ute reservation. he was an able chief, pro- gressive, intellectual, and ambitious to bring his tribe under the civilizing and elevating influence of the white people, for whom he ever cherished a warm and friendly feeling. sketch of capt. jack. and at this date (july, ,) is mining in new mexico. whether as chief of scouts, town trustee of custer city, chief of the red rangers, poet at the banquet table, author, actor, or “ poorest man on the range,” capt. jack is always the same good-natured, accommodating, gener- ous and genial gentleman, with a true heart, and the spirit of devotion for his friends. ! j. b. omohundro. (texas jack.) heroes of the plains. ebrated cavalry colonel, j. b. stuart. he served in this capacity for several years, and became noted throughout the confederacy. at the close of hostilities jack was employed as guide between the colorado and rio grande rivers, and after pursuing this calling for several months made an extend- ed tour through kansas and nebraska for the purpose of so familiarizing himself with the country that he could competently guide parties through those territories (now states). in jack was engaged as scout for the government and in the following summer had charge of four hundred pawnees who were engaged to operate against the chey- ennes. it was while thus employed that he made the ac- quaintance of buffalo bill, with whom he scouted a con- siderable time and until the two became partners in an enterprise conceived by ned buntline, as detailed in the « life of buffalo bill." while gen. sheridan was organizing his campaign against the northern cheyennes, jack was employed as hunter for the army, in which capacity he developed re- markable skill in killing antelope, which abounded on the prairies of western kansas at that time. the method employed for killing this most wary and fleet of north american game is well portrayed in the accompanying engraving. the killing of antelope is not so exciting as that of buffalo hunting, but it requires great caution and has much of gendine sport in it. during the cheyenne war, and at the time of custer's death, jack was employed by the new york herald to carry dispatches from the scene of hostilities to the near- est points for transmission, and performed these duties with such satisfaction that he received many flattering no- țices of praise from that paper. >> ! bryan flagging antelope copyright the naylor company stee, gift - pq dedicated to the rangers of commerce--salesmen foreword successful selling is based on common sense which is synonymous with horse sense. how- ever, few will dispute that horse sense isn't common. even a small booklet must have a title. a good title suggests the nature of its contents. therefore, we have entitled this booklet “horse sense ain't common." the reader will find an uncommon amount of horse sense hidden in these conversations of the "old cowhand.” the naylor company “accordin' to matthew” you take over the lazy d, and you, sam lukins, go down to the clawhammer and handle it. maw and me are goin' to califor- nia and spend a year visitin' our daughter em while i rest up. you men run them ranches just like they was your'n and don't bother me about the details. when i get back you can tell me what you did.” buck got back more'n a year later 'cause the lumbago throwed him about the time he was due to light a shuck and hobbled him for a spell. len stevens rode in to make his report and said, “boss, them , b-b cows you turned over to me done right well and i got me in some record bulls and the range is full stocked. the stockman's bank has got $ , . bear- in' your mark.” "not bad,” said buck. “stick round; i'll talk to you later." ben higgins was next in to say his piece. “buck, the lazy d sure done herself proud last year and you're going to like the way i handled her. two thousand head was the tally when i took her over. the day i left it was , and i'd sold off enough to pay everything and everybody up slick and clean with $ , . over. i was tempted to buy some registered bulls from up in the pan- handle but figgered you'd rather i'd save the money so i held the old bulls over." o took", thousano likerself procco light a shuck-travel rapidly. hobbled-tied his legs. horse sense ain't common that night while buck was swappin' lies with some of the other fellers, sam and me snuck off to the longhorn bar. we was feelin' low and lonesome and thought some beer would cheer us up. purty soon in come a half-pint size feller. he was wearin' 'bout two bits worth of hickory shirt and overalls and was barefoot. he was well oiled and talky. "my name's ludy. i'm the bait man. you may think it's the likker talkin' but i ain't no sap and i know my onions,” was his opener. "squat,” says i, "and have some beer." he done so and between drinks told us 'bout his business, which 'till then i didn't know there was any such business. "when i lit in this port,” he said, "they was five fellers here claimin' to be bait mén. them boat fellers have to furnish the dudes bait with the boats. they're too lazy to get it for theirselves, so they got to buy it from a bait man. them other five fellers didn't know their onions and they wa'nt dependable. some days they didn't know where to find bait; other days they got so likkered up they couldn't find any. sides that, getting bait is a lot of wear and tear on the bones and no feller with lead in his pants makes a good bait man. now take me, i can handle my likker, and when i get my tank just so full, i go out baitin'. none of them boat fellers ever lose two bits-twenty-five cents. “this is god's country" ruined. they laid me in the shade of a big sign board. after a spell i began to take notice and read the sign which had words most fittin'. “this is god's country. don't drive through it like hell!” bout sundown next day they got our rig straightened out ready to roll. when we lit at the b-b that feeder buyer had come and gone. buck 'lowed his rulin' motter hencefor- wards is “haste makes waste.” tellin' dany greely 'bout it i asked had he noted how folks was stampedin' these times. he 'lowed he had. “even the drummers that comes by to sell me goods is in such a rush they dassent linger long 'nuff for me to make up my mind to buy. such hurried travelers i accommodates by tellin' 'em quick and final, i don't need none. that let's 'em drive off conscience clear and speed unlimited. if i had my way the herd of 'em would be bored for the simples and have their speed glands cut out. i'm plumb honin' for an old-fashioned drummin' by a feller that takes out time to warm me up afore he propositions me to come across.” since i was knee high to a prairie dog i've knowed tossin' a rope 'fore buildin' a loop or buildin' a loop-shaking a lasso loop open. horse sense ain't common tryin' to run a brand with a cold iron don't save no time nor get the job done. now i'm plumb sure it don't pay to try to get where you're goin' ahead of your shadder. so long, i got to hobble on. this is god's country don't drive through it like hell! horse sense ain't common pit breakin' diamonds. front shack bend- in' rails to head in. con in dog-house flippin' tissue. hind shack beatin' it back with the red.” “okay” rattles back, "tell cactus con to highball in his report." bill bryan set the prairies afire in ' with his oratin'. "a full dinner pail” elected mckinley. wilson got his second term with the words, "he kept us out of war.” one word, “economy” swung the vote to cal coolidge. now the best word rider of 'em all, come in straddlin' “the forgotten man.” scowlin' when he says it, one feller calls nother a self made so and so. they's smoke follers them words. smilin' and back pattin' the feller he's namin', 'nother jasper says "you're an old same thing," and they has a'nother round of drinks. over to the centennial i seen a dingus rig- ged up out of iron to look like a man, actin' up most life like and doin' what the feller bossin' him said do. this feller called him mister robot and used up lots of words to tell the why and how of it. out of 'em i diamonds-coal. shack-brakeman. bendin' rails—throwing the switch. con--conductor. doghouse-cupola on caboose. flippin' tissue-reading orders. highball-rush through. smoke-shooting. "hand feedin' dogies" folks, they're going to turn her round.” you never seen such a stampede in all your borned days. one fall buck barkley comin' back from a shippin' trip to ft. worth brung back a paper poke of grapes. stoppin' at the blue front he set it on the bar, which was wet. the poke soaked through and when he come to go its bottom busted out, spillin' them grapes in the sawdust. the boys tromped the skins off 'em. 'fore long a tenderfoot rode up, lit and come in. he took note of them squashed grapes and wanted to know what they was. polk spoke up prompt, “stranger, we jest wound up a free for all ruckus in here and them's gouged out eyeballs you see.” 'nother time polk 'lowed to me, “they's two things i wants to see 'fore i cash in my chips. one's a gray, new-born colt and t’other is a white mule dead." he couldn't catch me on the colt gag 'cause i knows all gray hosses is foaled with dark first hair. 'bout the dead white mule i said, "i ain't never seen none but i knows a feller as has.” polk went off grinnin' like a basket of possum heads and singin' low, just loud 'nuff for me to catch the words, “my father had an old white mule, that old white mule he died, it may be so, but i don't know, i think somebody's lied.” poke-sack. life and marvelous adventures wild bill, the scout. being a true and exact history of all thb · sanguinary combats and hair-breadth escapes of the most famous scout and spy america ever produced. by j. w. buel, of the st. louis presl illustrated. chicago: belford, clarke & co. . copyrighted , by w. . bryan. contents. tagl. peculiarities of wild bill's nature wild bill's early life - - first evidence of pluck desperate fight at rock creek a running fight with confederates enters the union army as a spy a ride with death - .. captured and condemned to death a fight with three bushwhackers bowie-knife duel with an indian hief indian and buffalo speculation bill's duel at springfield . a quadrangular duel in nebraska wild bill's opinion of yankees how bill killed jack strawhan bill mulvey's last row a fight with fifteen soldiers a death fight with texas gamblers a reward of $ , in gold offered for bill's heart bill thompson's fatal surprise wild bill makes twenty men ask an apology bill's fight with phil cole's cousin removes to kansas city a prize fight in a chicago billiard room . bill's marriage to mrs. lake makes his debut on the stage bill's last trip to the black hills . assassination of wild bill - jack mccall pays the pen alty wild bill's remains exhumed and found to be petrified idiosyncraces of bill-his belief in spirits - bill's wonderful accuracy of aim - black nell, the wonderful mare . conclusion-does bill deserve a monument ! 了​。” peculiarities of wild bill's nature. wild bill, as a frontier character of the daring, cunning and honorable class, stands alone, without a prototype ; his originality is as conspicuous as his remarkable escapades. he was desperate without being a desperado; a fighter without that disposition which invites danger or craves the excitement of an encounter. he killed many men, but in every in- stance it was either in self-defense or in the prosecu- tion of a duty which he deemed justifiable. wild bill was a necessary character in the far west dur- ing the period which marked his career. he was essentially a civilizer, in the sense of a vigilance posse. the law and order class found in him an effective agent for the correction of the lawless; it was fighting the desperate with one of their kind, and bill had the cunning to remain on the side of society and to always flank his enemies. it would require a volume to moralize upon the deeds of this remarkable man as they deserve, for his desperate encounters find a parallel only in the atmospheric changes which abate an epidemic. when bill drew his pistol there was always one less desperado to harass the law-abiding, and his pres- ence served to allay the hunger of cut-throats and life of wild bill. for, from the time that he was twelve years of age, he manifested an ardent love for adventure. he made the rifle and pistol his earliest companions, and when he left la salle county he had the reputa- tion of being the best shot in that portion of the state. the first record we have of him after leaving illi- nois was during his short stay at independence, mis- souri, at which place he gained some notoriety by boldly entering the midst of a dozen infuriated men and bidding them to disperse. this event, we be- lieve, has never before been mentioned in any of the many sketches written of him, and as it was his first act of daring, it is worthy of production here. its truthfulness, however, we cannot vouch for, not hav- ing received the details from an eye-witness. first evidence of pluck. in , the year in which the occurrence is said to have taken place, independence was but a post •village, and was fairly upon the border. many teamsters stopped there, en route to kansas city with produce for shipment. there were two saloons in the place, and, naturally, much drunkenness and lawlessness. on the occasion referred to, a dozen teamsters had put up in town, and shortly afterwards visited one of the saloons, where they soon became life of wild bill. desperate band of marauders headed by jim and jack mccandlas. they were horse thieves and murderers who overran the country and levied trib- ute from nearly every one they met. this murder- ous gang had killed more than a score of innocent men and women for the purpose of robbery, and yet their power was such that no civil officer dared un- dertake their arrest. in , the year in which the fight occurred, the mccandlas boys raised a company in that section for the confederate service. they established their headquarters about thirteen miles west of rock creek, where they were collecting men and stolen horses. early in the morning of the day in question, jim mccandlas rode by rock creek station in com- pany with four of his men. mccandlas was leading an old man, known as parson shapley, by a lariat which was around the old man's neck. coming up to bill the party stopped, and mccandlas entered into a conversation, in which he tried to persuade bill to enter the confederate service and to turn over all the horses at the station to him. bill, a stranger to the sensation of fear, told mccandlas to go to h- ; that if he did any fighting it would be on the side of the union. mccandlas then told bill if he didn't have the horses ready for delivery by the time of his return, “that there would be a small murder at rock creek station, and the stage company would have to get another man.” the party then rode off. in this connection, in order to give the reader an i life of wild bill. idea of the manner in which wild bill received his would-be murderers, it is necessary to partially de- scribe rock creek station. the house in which bill and his single partner, known as doc. mills, ate and slept, was a low-roofed log hut fronting the creek, with the rear part built against the hill. it had a front door, and a very small window in the side, near the rear. the single room was divided by an old blanket hung from the roof, behind which was a table and a bed made after the frontier style. this rude structure was one of the many sleeping places called “dugouts," so often seen in the wild west even at this day. the stables, also very rude but strongly made, adjoined the “dugout” on the east side. the arms in the house consisted of two revolvers, one shot-gun, a large bore rifle, which bill called a mis- sissippi yager, and two large bowie knives. after dinner, doc. mills took the shot-gun and one of the revolvers—which he usually carried-and went down the creek a short distance to shoot some quail. during his absence, and about four o'clock in the evening, wild bill saw the two mccandlas boys, accompanied by eight others, riding up the road towards him. bill at once withdrew into the dugout and prepared to defend the place. coming around in front of the dugout, jim mccandlas hal- looed to bill, telling him to come out and deliver the horses. to this bill returned an insulting reply. the mounted party then left their horses and began an onslaught on the door with a log which they used life of wild bill, as a battering ram. bill stood behind the old blanket, rifle in hand, and revolver and knife lying on the table. it required but a few strokes to break the door, and the crowd of cut-throats, headed by jim mccandlas, rushed in. the old yager was discharged, and the leader fell with a hole in his heart as large as a silver half-dollar. bill seized his revolver and shot three more before any of them had reached him. the most terrible scene then followed. every man was like a wounded lion; the six others jumped at bill like harpies that had tasted blood. he was borne down upon the table, but his right hand was cutting right and left; the blood was gush- ing from his forehead, where he had been struck with a rifle, which almost blinded him; he cut two others down, and jack mccandlas leaped upon him with an immense dirk drawn to cut bill's throat. by a rare stroke of luck, bill placed the muzzle of his pistol over mccandlas' heart and fired. the knife in mccandlas' hand dropped harmlessly upon bill, and the man jumped into the air and fell dead, roll- ing over bill and falling off the table to the floor. during this time the others, who had life in them, were firing their pistols at bill whenever opportunity presented, but their numbers gave him the advan- tage. there was but little light in the room, and it was only the ones next to bill that could do him any injury, the others being fearful of killing their own party. six of the number had now been killed and two others badly wounded. they began to retreat, life of wild bill and though bill was apparently bleeding at every pore, he now pressed the fighting. the two who re- mained unharmed reached their horses, and, leaping into the saddle, fled as though they were being pur- sued by one who was shielded with the panoply of invulnerability. the two wounded ran down the hill, but one was cut so badly that he fell beside the root of a large tree, and was unable to go further. at this juncture doc. mills came back, and, when half-way up the hill, he was met by bill, who grabbed the loaded shot-gun, and, placing the muz- zle to the head of the wounded man, blew his brains out. the other one, whose name was jolly, man- aged to elude bill and reach manhattan, where, in a few days thereafter, he died, but not until he had told the story of the fight substantially as here re- lated. after the excitement of the terrific combat was over, bill fainted from loss of blood, and was carried into the dugout by his partner, doc. mills. the sight on the inside was now terrible. six men lay dead on the floor. jim mccandlas' body was ly- ing across the threshold of the door, almost half submerged in his blood. hideous gashes and large bullet-holes had opened the reservoir of blood which formed in large pools, after making small creeks over the floor. the countenances of the dead men were most revolting. not a groan escaped the lips of any of the victims after doc. mills entered with bill's half-lifeless body, which he lay tenderly on the life of wild bill reported to col. jameson, who immediately dis- patched two companies of his command to the scene of the first attack, and on the following day suc- ceeded in recapturing most of the stock and repair- ing the damage to the wagons, so that the train was able to proceed to sedalia. his valor in resisting the confederates was acknowledged by his appoint- ment as brigade wagon master with gen. curtis' army, and, while serving in this capacity, he engaged in the battle of pea ridge, where he performed most valuable service as a sharp-shooter, killing no less than thirty-five men, it is stated, from a single station. enters the union army as a spy. after bill's complete recovery he returned to the states and volunteered his services to gen. curtis, who had command of the army in missouri, as a scout and spy. he was enrolled in the early part of , and at once sent upon a dangerous mission. gen. price was preparing to enter missouri, and it became very necessary for gen. curtis to have relia- ble information of the intentions of the confederate general. bill went to kansas city, where he was furnished a horse, and allowed to exercise his judg- ment in reaching the enemy's lines. accordingly, he rode through kansas and the indian territory in order to reach arkansas from the south. he assumed life of wild bill. tive horses were wagered as to who could cross the open space and ride down to the creek. the two started off on a dash and soon the bullets from the union forces were whistling around them. bill kept as far from his partner as possible, and made his horse rear and plunge in order to attract the attention of the union forces. they rode down to the creek to- gether, when the union men discovered bill and shouted to him. this aroused the suspicion of the sargeant, who attempted to draw his pistol, but bill's eye was on him, and in a flash a ball went crashing through his brain. bill grabbed the bit of the dead sergeant's horse and plunged into the stream, which at the time was considerably swollen. the confed- erates now saw what was up, and although the un- ion forces commenced a brisk fire, the confederates seemed determined to kill bill, the bullets falling around him like hail; but he managed to reach the opposite shore with his own and the dead sergeant's horse without receiving any injury. bill was taken into gen. curtis' tent and afterwards publicly thanked for his daring and valuable services. a ride with death. gen. curtis continued pushing southward, and it again became necessary for bill to enter the enemy's lines. there were three things particularly in bill's life of vild bill. favor as a scout and spy. first of all, he was daring beyond example ; secon'], he was an unerring shot, and third, he could charge: his appearance so radi- cally as to deiy detecticn; add to this a native cunning ard adaptabili'y, and his success and escapes are not so remarkable. the second time he was sent into the lines he was accompanied by nat. tuckett, one of the dearest friends bill ever had. they took a circuitous route like the one adopted by bill in reaching price's army, and attached themselves to kirby smith at austin, texas, and soon afterwards moved north with smith's army into arkansas. curtis' forces were not very strong, and while deploying down the arkansas river they began to feel the strength of the confederates. at length the main body of both armies came in view and stretched their lines of bat- tle upposite each other about one thousand yards apart. a battery of ten-pounders was stationed on a small knoll to the left, which was kept playing on the confederates, but evidently with little effect, for they did not change positions and appeared willing that the union forces should expend their fire, for they did not return it except occasionally, appar- ently to let the union forces know they were waiting for the attack. this condition of affairs continued for more than an hour, when.suddenly two horsemen were seen to leave the ranks of the confederates and ride furiously towards the union lines. they had not gone a hundred yards before a detachment of life of wild bill. cavalry started in pursuit and a rapid fire was com- menced at the two riders. a company of union men was deployed to intercept the pursuers, as it was evident that the two were trying to effect their escape. on they came, the pursued and pursuers, until the two reached a ditch about twenty feet wide and ten feet deep. all but two of the pursuers had been distanced, and when the pursued came to the ditch one of them cleared it with a bound, but the other fell dead under his horse from a pistol shot fired by the two advanced pursuers. the union forces could then plainly see that the two trying to escape were wild bill and nat. tuckett. when his partner fell, bill turned in his saddle and fired two quick shots, and both the advanced pursuers fell dead and their horses galloped riderless into the union lines. this ride has been pronounced by those familiar with the facts—hundreds of whom are yet living—as one of the most daring feats ever accomplished, and bill's escape from death one of the most remarkable of his many strokes of good fortune. the only mo- tive he had for adopting so rash a measure was his dare-devil nature, which possibly became intensified by one or more drinks. in accomplishing this perilous feat, bill rode a black mare, to which he gave the name of black nell, and which he took great pains to train, with what success will be mentioned hereafter, life of wild bill. we now have to record another extraordinary visita- tion of good luck to bill. price's army had been flee- ing more than a week before the victorious curtis, whose troops outnumbered those of price two to one. the pursuit had been continued until both armies were very much fatigued, and price's was so nearly exhausted that he was compelled to go into camp on a small creek twenty-five miles south of little rock. wild bill's arms and legs were pinioned with thongs and he was confined in a one-room log- house with a single guard to prevent his escape. the house had but one door and one window, the lat- ter being nearly two feet square and closed by a door made of clap-boards. being bound hand and foot there was no avenue of escape, apparently, and bill was forced to take a melancholy view of his situa- tion night coming on, and the guard being nearly worn out, dozed off from time to time, feeling that his prisoner was perfectly secure. while meditating upon the execution announced to take place on the morrow, in which he was to be the chief character his eyes caught sight of the handle of an old case- knife which was sticking in an auger hole in one of the house logs. changing his seat without arous. ing any suspicion from the guard, bill managed to secure the rusty knife, and after long effort succeeded in cutting the cords which bound his wrists together. the dozing guard permitted him also to cut the cords on his feet, and the moment he was free bill rushed on the guard like a tiger springing upon its prey and life of wild bill. these marauding bands were composed of the rene- gades of both armies, which it was difficult for either side to punish. their haunts were chiefly among the pineries and other places difficult to penetrate with a company of men so as to present an effective front. wild bill, usually bent on some daring purpose, concluded to enter the pineries between rolla and springfield on a tour of discovery. he neglected to acquaint any one with his purpose, and left rolla by night. after an absence of three days he returned to rolla, leading three horses. gen. daviess, who was in command of the post, sent for bill and asked him how he came in possession of the horses. the tone in which the general addressed the inquiry sug- gested to bill the idea that the general entertained the suspicion that the horses were stolen. with a stolid indifference which characterized the man, bill replied: “it's none of your d-d business." by gen. daviess' orders, bill was placed in the guard- house, but he had so many fast friends, who felt sat- isfied that he came by the horses honorably, that on the night following, bill appeared on the streets as usual. the general was outwitted, and, approach- ing bill courteously, he received an explanation as follows: on the second day after bill left rolla, he met three bushwhackers in a lonely road, who commanded him to dismount. to this bill returned the reply, “it shall be a fair fight," and commenced firing. his first three shots killed his men. all of life of wild bill. pany any white man he might choose to send, as a spy into the enemy's camp. gen. curtis at once se- lected wild bill for the dangerous mission. upon setting out on the journey, bill had his suspicions aroused by the anxiety of the chief, and frankly told the indian that if he betrayed him death would be the consequence. the two proceeded cautiously, bill's eyes being almost constantly on the chief, lest the treachery he suspicioned would lead him into a fatal trap. his fears were realized when the two had got within a short distance of the hostile camp, for the chief had misled him and then suddenly disappeared. bill managed, with his usual good fortune, to escape the choctaws after getting inside the picket lines, al- though several times they came within a few feet of his hiding places. he made his way back to leaven- worth, where, after reporting the result of his trip, he directed his steps toward the camp of the sioux. bill could never discover the motive which prompt- ed the chief to thus betray him, but he was deter- mined to be revenged. he was personally ac- quainted with many of the sioux, and one of the most trusted ones he employed to lure the chief to a lone spot where he could take his revenge. the stratagem succeeded, and, ere the chief was aware, he was brought face to face with bill in a seques- tered spot thirty miles west of kansas city. bill told the chief that he intended to kill him for his treachery, and thereupon threw the indian a pistol, life of wild bill. thrust, bill cut the indian's throat, almost severing the head from the body. the wound bill received caused him great annoy- ance, for after partially healing, a fistula formed, which dr. thorne treated for several months before he recovered the use of his arm. this fight was one of the most terrible ever man engaged in, and nothing could evidence a man's pluck more con- clusively than this did bill's. indian and buffalo speculation. shortly after the close of the great civil war wild bill engaged in a novel enterprise, the result of which was a complete financial failure, though it furnished rare amusement for a great many wealthy people. he secured six fine, full-grown buffalos, and with four commanche indians, he made a trip to niagara falls, for the purpose of treating the visitors of that fashionable and famous resort to a genuina buffalo chase. the entertainment was duly adver- tised and a very large number of persons was attracted to witness real indians, bespangled with beads, paint and feathers, in pursuit of a genuine herd of wild buffalos. the chase occurred on the canada shore, and created the greatest excitement; hundreds of gentlemen engaging in the pursuit, mounted in excellent style, and rendering efficient aid at the close in securing the buffalos, unharmed, and returning them to pens previously provided. life of wild bill federates and union men. both sides recruited their forces from this section, and though the war had ended, many of the animosities then engen- dered still remained. another peculiarity of the place consisted in the excess of border ruffianism, which made the town notorious. murders had been so frequent in that section that the value of a life could scarcely be computed for its smallness among the rowdies was one dive tutt, a man of terrible passion, strong revenge, and one withal who had his private graveyard. he and bill had met be- fore; in fact, had shared the smiles of the same wo- man, a few years previous; but bill had won “in a square court," and dave was anxious to meet bill with pistols to settle the point finally. some months passed while the two were in springfield before any opportunity was presented for dave to introduce a row, and when it came it was of dave's own manu- facture. it is claimed that bill killed a particular friend of dave's some years before, but of the truth of this we have no proof. one of the strong points of difference between the men consisted in the fact that bill had been a union scout and spy, and dave had performed a similar duty for the confederates. springfield was a great place for gamblers, and bill and dave belonged to the profession. one night, the two met in a saloon on the north side of the square, and dave proposed a game with bill, which, not being agreeable, dave offered to stake a friend to play bill. thus the game was started. when life of wild bill. knew him thought he had lost his pluck. it was in- deed a seven days' wonder with the people. dave kept the watch two days, during which time bill remained in his room closely, revolving in his mind whether he should add another to his already long list of victims, or stop there and begin a life which flows in a more peaceful current. but he was not permitted to think and resolve without the advice of his friends. almost every hour one or more of them would come to him with a new story about dave's boasts and intentions. on the morning of the third day after the row, dave sent word to bill that he intended “to carry the watch across the square at noon, and to call the hour from wild bill's watch.” bill sent back the following reply: “dave tutt will not carry my watch across the square to-day unless dead men can walk." this reply satisfied everybody that there was go- ing to be a death fight. accordingly, shortly before noon, an immense crowd had assembled on the public square to see the duel. at five minutes to twelve wild bill made his ap- pearance on one side of the square opposite the crowd, where he could command a view of tutt and his many friends, nearly all of whom were standing with their revolvers in their hands. just before twelve dave stepped out from the crowd and started across the square. when he had proceeded a few steps and placed himself opposite to life of wild bill bill. the saloon-keeper was to give the word "fire," and the arrangements were conducten in as fair a manner as four men can fight onc. bill stood as calmly as though he were in church. not a flush nor tremor. all parties were to allow their pistols to remain in their belts until the 'word "fire" was given, when each was then to draw and fire at will, and as often as circumstances permitted. the saloon-keeper asked if all were ready, and receiving an affirmative reply, began to count slowly, pausing at least ten seconds between each count: “one, two, three-fire !" bill had fired almost before the call had died from the saloon- keeper's lips. he killed the man on the left, but a shot also struck bill in the right shoulder, and his right arm fell helpless. in another instant he had transferred his pistol to his left hand, and three more successive shots drop- ped his antagonists. three of the men were shot in the head and instantly killed. the other was shot in the right cheek, the ball carrying away a large portion of the cheek bone. he afterwards recovered, and may be living yet. the names of the four were : jack harkness, the one who recovered; jim slater, frank dowder and seth beeber. . bill was lionized by the others in the crowd in a moment after the fight; his wound was carefully bandaged and his wants administered to; but he considered it safer to quit the county at once, and returned to kansas, going direct to hays city, where life of wild bill he remained until he recovered the use of his arm, none of the bones having been broken, and in the latter part of the same year he was made city mar- shal, as he was the only one capable of dealing with the lawless class which had often overrun the town and set law and decency at defiance. wild bill's opinion of yankees. in , wild bill was engaged to guide a party of thirty pleasure-seekers, headed by hon. henry wil- son, deceased ex-vice-president, through some of the western territories. mrs. wilson, wife of the vice- president, was among the party, and being of a most vivacious and entertaining disposition, added greatly to the enjoyment of the trip. wild bill's introduc- tion to her resulted in a pleasing episode at the con- clusion of the trip. she requested bill to carefully scrutinize the party, and then give her his impartial opinion of yankees. bill replied that it was not cus- tomary for him to form rash conclusions, but if it were her wish he would deliver his opinion upon their return. the thirty days roaming through the canyons and over the mountains furnished a most enjoyable diver- sion to the entire party. there was scarcely a day passed but that bill gave them samples of his unerr- ing aim, killing enough game with his pistol to pro- life of wild bill. vision the company. the ladies, who composed nearly one-half the party, never tired of praising him, listening to his stories of border life, and won- dering at his marvelous escapes. bill naturally felt elated, and could not refrain from evincing his very deep interest in the pretty girls from the states. the gentlemen exhibited equal interest in the exploits of bill, and gave him full credit for his performances. there was one thing about the party which bill could not comprehend, viz.: the tight-legged pants which they wore—which at that time were the pre- vailing fashion in the east—and gave to the wearer the appearance of skeleton legs, wrapped with checked bandages, or a grasshopper dressed in an overcoat. upon the return of the party, mrs. wilson, in bid- ding bill good-bye, asked for a fulfillment of his prom- ise. he rather reluctantly responded, “well, mad-. am, i always like to keep my promise, but in this instance i should like to be excused.” but no ex- cuse would answer; his disinclination only excited a more anxious interest in mrs. wilson to obtain his opinion. being pressingly importuned, bill at length gave his opinion as follows: “ if you yankee women have as small legs as the sample of yankee men we have here, then i have a d-d poor opinion of the tribe.” the frankness with which bill spoke, no less than his remarks, threw the entire party into disorder. life of wild bill, one drank. the coroner was sent for and the crowd gave their testimony. bill was acquitted the same day, and serenaded by the authorities at night. whitney escaped death at strawhan's hands, but was killed by a texan named ben thompson, in . bill mulvey's last row. shortly after the event just related, bill mulvey, a notorious rough and desperado from st. joseph, mo., struck hays city, and got on what we term in the west, “a great big tear.” he paraded the streets with a revolver in each hand, howling like an enraged tiger, and thirsting for some one's blood. he was met by the squire and constable, both of whom endeavored to make him keep the peace, but their efforts were so far futile that he turned upon them and drove both out of the town. wild bill, who chanced to be in a saloon in another part of the place, where he was unconscious of the disturbance, was notified, and at once started to arrest mulvey. approaching his man quietly, in a most amiable tone he told mulvey that he should have to arrest him for disturbing the peace. mulvey had his pistols in his hands at the time, and in an instant they were lev- eled at wild bill's head, with the injunction, “ march before me.” bill fully appreciated the danger of his position, but his remarkable self-possession and cool- life of wild bill. aversion to bill on account of his having arrested, at divers times, several of the members of his company. the sergeant was in paddy welch's saloon with several of his men, indulging in a noisy carousal. welch sent for bill to remove the crowd, but when he arrived the sergeant insisted on fighting bill in the street. he confessed that he was no match for bill in a duel, but dared him to meet him in fistic encounter. to this proposition bill consented, and taking out his two revolvers he passed them to welch, and the two combatants, followed by the crowd inside, stepped out of the saloon and into the street. although the sergeant was much the larger man, he was no equal for bill, and in a moment after the fight began the sergeant was knocked down, and bill was administering to him a most severe thrashing. the soldiers, fourteen in number, seeing their sergeant at great disadvan- tage, and in danger of never getting back to camp with a sound body, rushed in to his assistance, some with clubs, and others with stones, seemingly determined to kill bill. paddy welch was near at hand, and seeing the desperate position he occupied, ran into the crowd and succeeded in placing the two revolvers in his hands. in another moment he dis- charged a shot which killed one of the soldiers, and would have done more terrible execution but for the crowd that was on him, which prevented him from using his hands. when the first soldier fell dead there was a hasty life of wild bill dispersion of the others, but only to get their pistols, which were near at hand, and to renew the attack. for a few minutes there was rapid firing, and three more of the soldiers fell, one of them dead, and the other two mortally wounded. the odds were too great for bill, and though he was struck with seven bullets, he managed to escape from the crowd and get out of town. night coming on very soon after the fight was over, enabled bill to cross smoky river and secrete himself several miles from the town, where he remained lying in a buffalo wallow for two days, caring for his wounds. he was hit three times in the arms, once in the side and three times in the legs. none of the wounds were serious, but he was compelled to tear up his shirt and drawers for banda- ges to stop the flow of blood. on the following day after the fight, gen. sheri- dan ordered a detachment of cavalry to go in pur- suit of bill, and, using his own words, “ to take him dead or alive," but, although the pursuit was entered into earnestly, they never found the object of their search. after getting able to travel, which was on the third day, bill managed to drag his sore and hungry body down to bill williams' ranche, where he was ten- derly cared for. no one can imagine the suffering he endured during the two days he lay in the buffalo wallow. his wounds, though but flesh injuries, gave him excruciating pain. he drew his bocts, which were filled with blood, and was unable to put them life of wild bill on again. he lost his hat during the fight, and, after tearing up his underclothes, he literally had no protection from the chill and damp of the night. when he attempted to rise from the ground, the agony he suffered was as intense as mortal could bear; but notwithstanding the pain he endured, the excessive hunger which began to oppress and weaken him, compelled him to make the effort to reach williams' ranche, which he succeeded in do- ing, as before stated. after remaining at the ranche a few days, bill sent for his friend whitney, then sheriff of ellsworth county, he having succeeded capt. kingsbury, and by him bill was taken to ellsworth. but the con- stant dread of detection made it advisable for bill to leave ellsworth, which he did in a few days, by the kindly assistance of jim bomon, a conductor of a freight train on the kansas pacific railroad, who locked him in a box car and brought him to junction city. at this place bill received proper surgical attention and soon recovered. a death fight with texas gamblers. the removal of the seventh cavalry from hays city gave bill immunity from danger from that quarter, and though he did not return to that place, he accepted the office of city marshal of abilene, a life of wild bill. town one hundred miles east of hays city, and fre- quently visited the latter place on business. abilene was the point from which all the cattle from texas for the eastern markets were shipped. immense droves were daily brought into the place, and with the cattle canie the drovers, a large major- ity of whom were texan desperadoes. the town bristled with business, and crimes and drunkenness became so common that by general consent abilene was called the gomorrah of the west. gamblers and bad women, drunken cut-throats and pimps, overshadowed all other society, and the carnival of iniquity never ceased. the civil officers were plas- tic to the touch of the ruffians, and the town was ruled by intimidation. when bill assumed charge of the office of mar- shal, the law and order class had hopes for a radical change, and yet they were very doubtful of the abil- ity of one man to curb the reckless and lawless spirit of so many vicious desperadoes—men who were familiar with the pistol and did not hesitate to. murder and plunder, and who took pleasure in “stampeding" the place. in two days after bill entered upon the discharge of his duties, occasion presented for a manifestation of his pluck. phil. cole, a gambler, and one of the most dangerous men in the west, in company with his pal, whose name cannot now be recalled, conclu- ded to run the town after their own fashion for at least one day. they began by smashing windows life of wild bill. promiscuously, insulting women, discharging their pistols, and other like conduct. bill met them while they were in the midst of their deviltry, and under- took their arrest. he knew phil. cole by reputation, and was prepared for the fight he expected. cole told bill that his arrest depended upon who was the better man, and at once drew his pistol. mcwil- liams, bill's deputy, stepped up and tried to pacify cole, and at the same time to secure his pistol, but cole was anxious for a fight and fired at bill, but missed his mark. bill returned the fire, but at the moment he pulled thu trigger of his pistol, cole, in his struggle, threw mcwilliams in front of him and the bullet from the pistol struck the faithful dep- uty, killing him almost instantly. cole's pal, who, until this time, seemed a mute spectator of the af- fray, then drew his pistol, and also fired at bill, the bullet passing through bill's hat, and before cole or his mate could fire again, bill had put a bullet through the head of each, and the fight was ended. the death of mcwilliams was most sincerely de- plored by everyone, but by none as it was by bill, and in years afterward he could not have the sad event recalled to mind without crying like a child. the killing of cole was a most fortunate event for the better class of citizens of abilene, because it at once improved the morals of the place. the men who had for years before rioted at their pleasure, de- fied the law and badgered decency, began to feel that to continue in the same course would be to risk life of wild bill knees, with the view of using the chair as a sort of breastwork. the instant he moved, a ball from thompson's pistol whistled passed his ear, and struck the plate on the table in front of him. before another shot could be fired from the same course, bill jerked one of the two derringers he nearly al- ways carried, from his pants pocket, and, whirling on one knee, sent a bullet squarely into thompson's forehead. the man fell forward on his face without uttering a sound, stone-dead; the dish of soup in the waiter's hand tumbled onto the floor and broke into fragments. resuming his seat again at the table, merely rising from his kneeling position, bill told the affrighted waiter to bring him that oyster stew he had ordered, but the restaurant speedily filled with mor- bid people, and there was too much excitement to admit of serving stews thereafter. bill was the least excited of any, and after waiting a few moments, and seeing that he could not get what he called for, he went out of the place and took his oyster stew at another restaurant. of course he was arrested, but as it was a clear case of self-defense, he was at once discharged. makes twenty men ask an apology. in a few weeks after the killing of thompson, bill again visited ellsworth, and during this visit he met life of wild bill. buntline made a hero out of such material as bill cody (buffalo bill,) i've thought it time to drop out of sight. i took cody when he was left alone in the world, a young lad, and partially raised him. well, i don't want to say anything against the boy, but his pluck wouldn't go at par. i've kept a little diary of all my exploits, and when i'm dead i'll be glad if it falls into your hands, and from it you may be able to write something interesting. when i die it will be just as you now see me, and sickness will not be the cause. for more than ten years i've been con- stantly expecting to be killed, and it is certain to come before a great while longer." during this conversation bill appeared to be unus- ually sad, and when he referred to his death it was with a seriousness which indicated that he had been notified of his tragic end by some terrible presenti- ment. he was an expert poker-player, and followed no other calling while in kansas city. the place was fairly filled with gamblers, and up to the voice of the keno caller could be heard in nearly every other building on main street, between mis- souri avenue and fourth street. the marble block, and houses on the west side of the square, were par- ticularly the haunts of gamblers. murders and rows were not infrequent, but bill kept out of all difficul- ties. he was both feared and respected. his car- riage was that of a peaceable gentleman, and during the three years he made kansas city his home, he life of wild bill was partially hid by a stiff goatee. the nose was what is commonly called "snub;" he had cross eyes and a florid complexion, which completed a more repul- sive picture than dore could conceive. he was clad in a blue flannel shirt, brown overalls, heavy shoes, and, as he sat in a stooping position, with his arms folded across his breast, he evidently assumed a non- chalance and bravado which were foreign to his feel- ings, and betrayed by the spasmodic heavings of his heart. the selection of a jury consumed all the forenoon, as it was next to impossible to select a man who had not formed or expressed an opinion concerning the murder, although but few who were in the panel had heard of the tragedy until a few hours before. a hundred names were selected, written upon sep- arate scraps of paper, and placed in a hat. they were then well shaken, and the committee appointed for the purpose drew from the hat one name at a time. the party answering to the name then came forward and was examined by the judge touching his fitness to serve as an impartial juror. ninety- two names were called from the panel before the jury was made up. following are those who were selected and served: j. j. bumfs, l. d. grokow, j. h. thompson, c. whitehead, geo. s. hopkins, j. f. cooper, alexander travis, k. f. towle, john e. thompson, l. a. judd, edward burke and john mann. the jurors being sworn, they took their seats, and testimony for the prosecution was begun. life of wild bill. the first witness called was charles rich, who said that he was in the saloon kept by lewis & mann on the afternoon of the d, and was seated at a table playing a game of poker with wild bill and several others, when the prisoner, whom he identified, came into the room, walked deliberately up to wild bill, placed a pistol to the back of the deceased, and fired, saying: “take that!” bill fell from the stool upon which he had been su..ted without uttering a word. samuel young testified that he was engaged in the saloon; that he had just delivered $ worth of pocket checks to the deceased, and was returning to his place behind the bar when he heard the report of a pistol shot; turning around, he saw the prisoner at the back of wild bill with a pistol in his hand which he had just discharged; heard him say, “take that!" carl mann was one of the proprietors of the sa- loon in which wild bill was killed; was in the poker game; noticed a commotion ; saw the prisoner (whom he identified) shoot wild bill. the defense called for the first witness, p. h. smith, who said he had been in the employ of mccall four months; that he was not a man of quarrelsome dis- position; that he had always considered him a man of good character; that he (the witness) had been introduced to wild bill in cheyenne, and drank with him; that the deceased had a bad reputation, and had been the terror of every place in which he had resided. life of wild bill. the creek. charles utter, better known as colorado charley, had been the intimate friend of the de- ceased for fifteen years, and with that liberality which is a feature among mountaineers, had always shared his purse with him. charley was much affected by the death of his friend, and incensed at the villain who had murdered him. a tepee was pitched at the foot of one of the giant trees which rise so ma- jestically above charley's camp. preparations were at once made for the funeral. the following notice was printed and sent out: “funeral notice.—died in deadwood, black hills, aug. , , from the effects of a pistol shot, j. b. hickok (wild bill,) for- merly of cheyenne, wyoming. funeral services will be held at char- ley utter's camp, on thursday afternoon, aug. , , at o'clock. all are respectfully invited to attend." at the time appointed a number of people gath- ered at the camp-charley utter had gone to a great deal of expense to make the funeral as fine as could be had in that country. under the tepee, in a handsome coffin, covered with black cloth and richly mounted with silver ornaments, lay wild bill, a pic- ture of perfect repose. his long chestnut hair, evenly parted over his marble brow, hung in waving ringlets over the broad shoulders; his face was cleanly shaved excepting the drooping moustache, which shaded a mouth that in death almost seemed to smile, but in life was unusually grave; the arms were folded over the stilled breast, which in- closed a heart that had beat with regular pulsation life of wild bill amid the most startling scenes of blood and vio- lence. the corpse was clad in complete dress-suit of black broadcloth, new underclothing and white linen shirt; beside him in the coffin lay his trusty rifle, which the deceased prized above all other things, and which was to be buried with him in compliance with an often expressed desire. a clergyman read an impressive funeral service, that was attentively listened to by the audience, after which the coffin-lid hid the well-known face of wild bill from the prying gaze of the world. a grave had been prepared on the mountain side toward the east, and to that place in the bright sun- light, the air redolent with the perfume of sweet flowers, the birds sweetly singing, and all nature smiling, the solemn cortege wended its way and de- posited the mortal remains of wild bill. upon a large stump at the head of the grave the following inscription was deeply cut: “a brave man; the victim of an assassin-j. b. hickok (wild bill) aged years ; murdered by jack mccall, aug. , ." jack mccall pays the penalty. after the farcical termination of the trial, and the burial of wild bill, several friends of the deceased met at charley utter's ranche and determined to avenge the cowardly assassination of their friend. life of wild bill uncovered, out of respect for their dead friend, they exhumed the body and took off the coffin-lid to take a last look before transferring the remains to mount moriah cemetery, at deadwood. it was a sad sight to the eyes of friends. there was scarcely a per- ceptible change in the body, excepting a darker color of the face. the features were all preserved with remarkable naturalness. there was the shat- tered wound in the right cheek, made by the cruel bullet which took his life, but the countenance bore a tranquil look, as though the wearer was glad to es- cape a world in which there was nothing but buffet and anxiety to him. the lips wore a placid appear- ancema smile of peace, the graceful contour of con- tent. the extraordinary weight of the body caused the friends to make a more careful examination, when it was found that the remains were in process of petri- faction. the hair still bore its silken lustre, but the flesh was so indurated as to approach the solidity of wood. the weight of the body at the interment was one hundred and sixty pounds, but at the ex- humation it weighed a fraction less than three hun- dred pounds. the carbine that was buried with him was in a perfect state of preservation. after clipping off a lock of hair, which is now in the possession of wil- liam learned, musical director of the gem theater, at deadwood, the coffin lid was again screwed down, and the remains taken to moriah cemetery, where life of wild bill black nell, the wonderful mare. during the early part of the war, wild bill came into possession of a young black mare, having cap- tured her from a bushwhacker during price's inva- sion of missouri. the mare was as black as a coal, and at the proper age to enter upon the course of train- ing bill put her in. she was full of fire, and the ex- quisite symmetry of her head, neck, limbs and body, showed the pure blooded stock that was in her. bill devoted all his leisure time for more than a year teaching the mare tricks which afterwards he used to so much advantage. the mare at length acquired such a complete understanding of bill's wishes that her obedience was truly marvelous. first of all, no one could ride or approach the mare except bill, and to him she was as gentle as a mother to her child. he named her black nell, presumably suggested by claude duval's black bess, of whose exploits he was so fond of reading. black nell was usually allowed great freedom, because she was so prompt to answer the whistle of bill; she would leave her feed and come galloping to the call with the most astonishing alacrity. while riding nell it was only necessary for bill to wave his hand to set her in a dead run or stop her instantly. a downward motion of his hand would cause her to drop as suddenly as if she had been shot dead, and she would lie perfectly still until the command life of wild bill to rise was given. on one occasion, while bill was being pursued by a detachment of bushwackers, in passing through a prairie where the grass was very high, his life was saved by the prompt obedience of nell in dropping down and remaining so quiet that the pursuers passed by within fifty feet without discovering him. in , while he was in springfield, missouri, he astonished a crowd of saloon-loafers by first go- ing into the bar-room and calling his mare to follow. nell came in, following her master like a dog, with- out the slightest hesitation. there was an old bill- iard table in the saloon, too much worn for further service, and upon this he ordered nell to place her- self. she reared up and placed her fore feet upon the table, but it was only after repeated effort and great strain that she succeeded in raising her hind feet to such a height. after getting upon the table, bill poured out a pint of whisky into a wash-basin, which nell drank with evident relish. at a wave of the hand she leaped from the table and out into the street, where bill allowed her to exercise her free- dom for several hours. one of nell's greatest accomplishments was leap- ing, and in this she certainly never had an equal. she had frequently leaped ditches twenty feet in width with apparent ease, and bill had no hesitancy whatever in riding her over a six feet fence, which she could clear like a deer. this wonderful animal died in , of a complication of diseases, and was life of wild bill that a rhetorician would analyze a sentence, and his failures were as few as his successes were conspicu- ous. wild bill was essentially great in many re- spects and callings. he was undoubtedly the great- est scout and conservator of the peace that ever crossed the plains; as a spy and strategist he has, perhaps, never had an equal. the service he has rendered the country at large, and the west in par- ticular, cannot be estimated. abilene and hays city, the people of which places he served so effec- tively, cannot afford to withhold their respect for the memory of wild bill, and it would be as creditable to the people of kansas as it would be deserving to the brave heart that was stilled by the assassin's bul. let, to bring the remains vi wild bill into their state and give it a resting place among the most illustrious of their dead. if ever a hero deserved a monument, wild bill is worthy a shaft that would rear ts apex so high as to overlook every spot of territory be- tween the great missouri and the rocky mountains. kansas was his home and first-love; will the people of kansas make the state his sepulchre ? naildbill j.b.hickock wells jack mccall deadwoodate ao focus los colorado choolic ehitep riches- wild bill's grave in mount moriah cemetery, deadwood. annex library be cornell university library bought with the income of the sage endowment fund the gift of henry w. sage --- - annex the date shows when this volume was taken. bouk copy the call no. and give to the librarian. home use rules ...oooo........ mar . - f may all books subject to recall all borrowers must regis- ter in the library to borrow books for home use. an books must be re- turned at end of college year for inspection and repairs. . limited books must be re- turned wibu the four week limit and not reneu ed. students must return all books before leaving town. officers should arrange for the return of books wanted during their ab.ence from town. volumes of periodi als and of pamphlets are held in the library as much as possible. for special pur- poses they are given out for a limited time. borrowers should not use their library privileges for the benefit of other persons. books of special value and gift books, when the giver wishes it, are not allowed to circulate. readers are asked to re- cases of books marked or mutilated. do not deface books by marks and writing. port all cornell university library the outing magazine the outdoor magazine of human interest edited by caspar whitney volume xlviii april, --september, the outing publishing company new york: west st street london. the international news company, bream's buildings, chancery lane q . copyright, , by the outing publishing company all rights reserved tpe outing press, deposit, n. y. - - contents of volume xlviii april —september page adventure dillon wallace in labrador. a successful trip to lake michikamau. photo- graphs by the author.. ..g. m. richards the story of the “overland mail." illustrated by r. farrington elwell. written from data furnished by r. f. elwell. dillon wallace wins... exploring unknown america. caspar whitney in the jungle. caspar whitney's expedition.. the buccaneers, - when pierre le grand set the pace, ; drake and the “golden hind,” ... .john r. spears the long labrador trail—the compact with hubbard fulfilled. chapters i-ii, ; chapters iii-iv, .... . dillon wallace agriculture—(see also gardening.) saving the crops.... ..a. s. atkinson angling—(see fishing.) ioi athletics the spirit of the olympian games... school and college world, , , , . the strategy of tennis.. the racquets season reviewed. a “pocket" golf course, ... american athletes champions of the world. football for .... james b. connolly .ralph d. paine joshua crane george h. brooke van tassel sutphen . james e. sullivan automobiling taking an automobile abroad. women and the automobile. walter hale ..mary mullett biographical notes general daniel morgan—the hero of cowpens. lynn tew sprague the author of “white fang” (jack london). general henry lee—“light horse harry” of the revolution. , lynn tew sprague general harrison, the hero of tippecanoe. .lynn tew sprague camping how to pack a pack horse... skimming down the delaware. how to make totem poles for log houses and shacks. iii .dan beard .howe williams dan beard iv contents page country home making the country home; , , , , , . eben e. rexford dogs starting an exhibition kennel. the reasoning power of the dog. choosing the field trial dog... dealing with timid dogs... · joseph a. graham .s. l. de fabry · joseph a. graham . joseph a. graham fiction by strength of arms and artie-a salmon of the grand codroy. maximilian foster bar range yarns—ii. the vagrant sioux, ; iii. trials of a peaceful puncher, ; iv. hopalong keeps his word, ; v. the advent of mcallister, ;, vi. holding the claim, .. clarence edward mulford winkler ashore-iv. the heathen chinaman, ; v. brainie's suicide, ; vi. winkler's duchess, ... .gouverneur morris the whole story.. . edward marshall a day's work in the mounted police. lawrence mott white fang—part i. the wild (chapters i-iii), ; part ii. born of the wild (chapters i-v), ; part iii. the gods of the wild, ; part iv. the superior gods, ; the superior gods (continued), ... ... jack london side show studies—the tragedy of the tigers and the power of hypnotism. drawings by oliver herford. .francis metcalfe a stern chase–bruin sets the pace. painting by philip r. goodwin. maximilian foster one of three. drawing by frank e. schoonover. . lawrence mott the restoration of helen. . adele marie shaw his battle... norman h. crowell by hook or crook—the trout that tomah promised. maximilian foster ’long cowallis crick., photographs by h. m. albaugh. ... holman day wa-gush. illustrated by frank e. schoonover. lawrence mott homer tries a rest cure. illustrated by may wilson preston. ... sewell ford baby olney's “cure" . adele marie shaw the magic of orchards. drawing by howard giles. .zona gale along the stubbles—chauncey bags a “chicken. maximilian foster the orientalizing of budge. drawing by sydney adamson. w. a. fraser the silver fox. . lawrence mott fishing worm fishing for brook trout.. louis rhead hunting the sawfish. painting by c. f. w. mielatz. charles f. holder hints on terminal tackle. clarence deming live bait for bass and pike.. . louis rhead fly fishing for ouananiche louis rhead the mysterious awa-toose and the strange nebog atis. robert t. morris the summer trout.. .... clarence deming how to know and how to catch black bass. dr. james a. henshall trouting in the bushes. .clarence deming football football for .... fruit trees how to care for your fruit trees. how to spray your fruit trees..., eben e. rexford eben e. rexford contents v page gardening—(see also country home.) garden tools. garden hints. the flower garden. work in the garden planting strawberries. mushrooms for the market blanching celery . eben e. rexford iio eben e. rexford eben e. rexford eben e. rexford eben e. rexford eben e. rexford eben e. rexford horse condition in the horse, and how to attain it.... how to harness, saddle and bridle your horse. how to shoe your horse.. how to pack a pack horse. how to bit your horse.. how to acquire “hands on your horse. how to appoint your vehicles.. f. m. ware i f. m. ware f. m. ware dan beard .f. m. ware .f. m. ware .f. m. ware horse racing what an average day's horse racing costs.. the modern betting ring. rene bache wilf. p. pond house plants the flower garden. among the flowers: about the flower garden among the house plants. insects on plants.. eben e. rexford . eben e. rexford eben e. rexford . eben e. rexford . eben e. rexford hunting forest reserves as breeding places for wild life.. a courier from the north... .john f. lacey ernest russell ii miscellaneous the builders-ii. the last of the open range, ; iii. steam and sail on the pacific, ; iv. the gold camps of the desert, ; v. the men of the un- tamed desert, ; vi. where ranch and city meet, ; vii. the heart of the big timber country, . ralph d. paine how to build and furnish a surprise den in a modern house....dan beard mimic royalties of may day. . david lansing a little brown horse–from the farm to the city. - james h. tuckerman king of the kerb--concerning the coster at work and play. may doney two new tailless kites.. dan beard the white wings of the great lakes. wilbur bassett mr. roberts' “red fox" john burroughs the renaissance of coney. charles belmont davis the tox-shop. edwina stanton babcock a courier from the north. ernest russell the mysterious awa-toose. ..robert t. morris westward ho!. .stuart l. douglas how to make totem poles for shacks. dan beard queen titania and prince charming of asbury park.. charles belmont davis the modern betting ring.... wilf. p. pond how to appoint your vehicles. .f. m. ware vi contents page natural history our imported pests—weed tramps of the vegetable kingdom; the gypsy moth a national menace. ...clifton johnson the developing columbine_relation of insects to flowers... ...robert blight the weasel and his victims again. - john burroughs mr. hornaday's wolverine. b photographing the heron family. a. earl marr the magic of the rain. charles quincy turner mr. roberts' “red fox' .john burroughs some lake-side waders of the northwest. herbert k. yob the name of birds.. c. william beebe has the wasp affection?. outdoor life the pass—chapters vi-viii, ; chapters ix to the end, . stewart edward white in the shadow valley-a morning's fishing . edwina stanton babcock skimming down the delaware. ...howe williams paintings and drawings the harpy eagle, the horse trade-willing to be tempted. an unexpected strike. where the big fish are. “arms and the man" at the picnic landing. conquering a northern rapid. "for like a butterfly blown far to sea' the round-up camp... j. m. gleeson hy. s. watson oliver kemp hy. s. watson hy. s. watson oliver kemp william g. krieghoff .p. v. e. ivory photographs when the sap begins to climb... charles h. sawyer a fisherman's a fisherman for a' that.. ..a. b. phelan the white beauty of the birches. charles h. sawyei and all the fish that he did catch were in his mother's pail".a. b. phelan scenes from the “real country'). r. r. swallows photography photographing the heron family.... .a. earl marr physical culture give the baby a chance.. the secret of success in feats of skill. dieting vs. exercise to reduce flesh. speed swimming—the three recognized methods. frank barkley copley w. r. c. latson, m.d. g. elliot flint .l. de b. handley poultry in the poultry yard.. advice for the poultry growers. . eben e. rexford .eben e. rexford quail planting “quail". lynn bogue hunt a contents vii page travel-(see also adventure.) the last of the open range.. ralph d. paine king of the kerb—concerning the coster at work and play. may doney steam and sail on the pacific. ralph d. paine the gold camps of the desert, ralph d. paine on the road to quaint la paz. w. t. burres, m.d. the men of the untamed desert. ralph d. paine skimming down the delaware. howe williams where ranch and city meet. ralph d. paine westward ho!.. stuart l. douglas a day with a devonshire farmer. photographs by the author and others. arthur goodrich the heart of the big timber country. .ralph d. paine verse “when th' fever's in the blood young summer.. in luzon. in june... midsummer. summer absence. pan in the catskills a song of sun and summer. there's music in my heart to-day. the rover bards... maria k. lamb .frank lillie pollock . matilda hughes l. m. montgomery . elsa barker .bliss carmen elizabeth r. macdonald . lloyd roberts walter adolf roberts view-point view-point.. view-point.. .caspar whitney .caspar whitney yachting fitting out for the season. a new era in yachting.. the white wings of the great lakes boats and boat-handlers. captain a. j. kenealy frank b. copley wilbur bassett henry c. rowlands sche drawing for "the law of the kange," by frank e. schoonover. "skinny dragged him over to a crack and settled down for another try." - the o u t i n g magazine vol. xlviii number april, the pass by stewart edward white photographs by the author bloody pass f vi it took me probably an hour to reach the snow line. i could make out a dim miner's trail as far as that, but of course it vour o'clock in the morning proved was lost beyond. a very steep climb over indeed to be mighty cold. the sun frozen snow-fields-utterly impossible for was just gilding some peaks a long horses-brought me to the ridge, and once distance above us, but that did not do us again i looked into the cañon of the ka- any good. all the horses had moved over weah. the ridge ran up to a very knife to the eastward slope of the mountain, edge of rock, some of it solid, some cut by where they would be certain to catch the the frost into blocks and some loose and very first rays of warmth. their hair wobbly, but none over eighteen inches wide. stuck up dark and velvety. it fell away on either side for twenty or a hot cup of coffee went to the spot. thirty feet. after two minutes i was glad then we caught up the horses, and if there to descend again to the snow. is anything more finger-numbing and dis with many precautions against slipping tressing than to undo heavy leather hobbles i skirted the base of the cliffs until i had stiff with frost, then i do not know what it reached the saddle. there i walked out is. we brought them in to camp. into plain sight on the snow and fired my i left wes to pack up, and pushed on in six-shooter twice, by way of a signal to take light marching order up the right-hand slope the left hand, as the only possible route. of the cañon. our way probably led to watching carefully through my glasses i the left and over the "nigger-head," but it made out wes and billy rounding the was thought best to overlook no bets. we pack stock together. satisfied that they agreed on a conventional six-shooter signal. understood, i now turned my attention copyrighted, , by the outing publishing company. all rights reserved. the outing magazine to the problem of surmounting the nigger at this point the stream, somewhere be- head. neath a cañon full of snow, headed in a a very cursory examination proved to small circular cup, whose sides sloped me that it would be impossible to pass steeply to a glacier lake. the water of above it. the upper side fell off sheer. this lake was of a deep, rich peacock-blue, below it ran a narrow strip of rock and typical of the glaciers, but quite impossible shale, steep as a roof, and dropping off to describe. it was fringed by white ice, straight into the main cañon. which ran out below the surface in ledges the slant, as it stood, was too abrupt of the most perfect robin's-egg blue imag- for footing. a horse would simply creep inable. the dazzling white, brilliant rich around below the precipice of the nigger peacock and paler translucent blue gave head until he came to the narrow, steep the impression of some rare and precious roof. then his weight would start an gem. avalanche in the shale which would carry the shores sloped very steeply, and were him off the edge to an untimely death. covered with snow which terminated only so i began to experiment, and soon dis at the base of the sheer ridge above. di- covered that by sitting down and kicking rectly across the lake, and perhaps two vigorously i could gouge out a little furrow hundred feet up, this ridge broke and which would hold. it was tough on the splintered. wes and i climbed up and shoes, and rather hard work; but sat took a look at it. it ran in sharp needles there and kicked cheerfully until i had ac of rock, knife-edge slabs stuck upright, complished a nick from the head of the and jumbled ledge matter. wes picked cañon to the base of the nigger-head. it out a possibility. was rather an invisible sort of nick, and “if they get through here, we'll have to it ran only about twenty feet above the take out a license for keeping goats,” said precipice, and it was very crumbly at best, wes. but i looked upon it with pride and satis we piled up small stones to help in some faction. places, and pried out what obstructions there remained only about forty feet we could, but our best was mighty little. to do. that ran through cliff-débris from i have seen horses travel in rough country, the nigger-head. i went over it once to but this little bit was the worst. how- find the easiest route, then set myself vig ever, we consoled ourselves with the ran- orously to rolling bowlders aside, and to ger's assurance that once to the top our chinking the worst holes. this was rather troubles would be over. we started the good fun. the big stones went bounding horses along. first they had to skirt the and jumping away like living things, strik lake and climb slanting up the steep snow ing fire at every contact, finally leaping bank. we anticipated no trouble in this, from view over the last precipice, only to but when about half way up discovered reappear after an interval minimized by something of which our light weight afoot distance, still rolling and bouncing until had not apprised us. the top covering at last the repeated shocks broke them to was comparatively loose; but earlier in the pieces a thousand feet below. the smell year, before the last snowfall, evidently, of burning was in the air from the super a freezing rain had fallen, so about six heated stones. gradually, foot by foot, i inches under the surface lay a hard and worked forward until at last, when wes slippery crust. appeared around the corner riding modesto, dinkey, always cocky and self-confident, there remained not over ten feet to do. was the first victim. she slipped, attempt- he dismounted and together we went at ed to recover, and went down. slowly the remainder. then we walked back and the weight of her pack overcame her bal- forth over the length of the trail testing for ance, forcing her as one wrestler forces weak spaces, after which we rode across in another. sixty seconds, quite safely, but with many “look out! she's going to roll over!” doubts. our horses were the veterans of yelled wes. several hard mountain trips, and they he threw his riata over her head. we stepped lightly and surely. so we gained ained had just time to our heels in and brace the snow line. for the shock when over she went. the pass me the won troll canon sentinel apport the permanent camp r exploration camp grear western divide loro elizabeth pusero x side camps bloody gap wooo . kawesh group scale % inch to the mile starting place. she had completely lost her nerve and trembled pathetically. at this wes and i rejoiced somewhat, for dinkey heretofore had made us feel very inferior and ignorant. we now set ourselves in good earnest to the task of gaining the last hundred feet. a rope was attached to bullet; we both took a hand. but bullet walked across like a tight-rope dancer. at the piled-up destruction of the bowlders and ridges he took his time, smelled out each step, and passed without an accident. i rubbed his forehead for him, and left him on a tiny flat place just beyond the top. jenny came next. she started confi- dently enough, following bullet's lead, but soon had the bad luck to thrust one hind leg through a thin spot and down into a deep hole. in the recovery she fell on her side, and while we managed to prevent her rolling over, she came so near it that she now it was about a hundred feet down uttered a sharp squeal of fright. two to the glacier lake, and we both knew that years before jenny had fallen from the if dinkey ever plunged into it we should trail, had caught on a narrow ledge, and never see her again. so we braced a had been slung thence bodily by means of mighty brace, and heaved a mighty heave. two riatas. the experience had shattered i can't describe the rest in detail. i know her nerves. now she went all to pieces. i slid ten feet or so on my heels, was up we undid her pack rope, teased the kyak ended, en veloped in a choking whirl of from beneath her-gave her every chance snow, felt the rope encircle me and so cast in the world. but she refused even to try it loose, stopped rolling, cleared my eyes, to get up. so we twisted her tail and saw the end of the rope within a foot of me, pulled on her lead rope until she had to grabbed it, and was again yanked through make some effort. even then she struggled space. wildly, her eyes fairly glazed with terror. when the sky resumed its natural posi of course, she went down again, and yet tion i found that the combined efforts of again, floundering like a big fish. we held dinkey, wes and myself had brought the her to the slope without too great difficulty, outfit to a standstill just about one yard for we had good footholds, and little by from the edge of the peacock-blue water little teased her along toward the edge of in the glacier lake. we were covered with the snow and the beginning of the splin- snow, and we sprawled at the end of what tered rocks. there we hoped jenny would looked to be the track of an avalanche. get over her hysterics in the realization of “well, we stayed with it,” said wes. accustomed footing. the last ten feet she we looked up. billy was roosting on a floundered forward on her foreknees, never rock with a camera in her hand. bullet, even attempting to get more fully to her good, wise old bullet, had headed the rest feet. of the pack train and was holding it there once secure, we let her stand, while we in the deep snow. tuxana and pepper, ourselves carried over her pack to where who had added to the joy of the scene by bullet patiently awaited us. then, hav- chasing around and around in mad circles, ing decided that jenny should have re- sat on their haunches with a please-do-it gained her poise by this time, we led her on. again smile on their faces. how she surmounted that hundred foot it now became necessary to return din climb without breaking her fool neck will key to her original position. we did this always be a problem. she slipped and very gingerly by leading her back to the skated and fell and recovered. the sharp the outing magazine edges cut her fearfully. blood streaked however steep and unstable it might prove her from a dozen wounds, ran down her to be, would take us safely enough to the white coat, even dripped on the rocks. shores of the second glacier lake. there we were sorry, but we could not help it. we could camp. finally we did gain the saddle, and looking i scouted ahead, came to a forty-foot back with deep breaths of relief named this drop, returned, took another way, came to bloody pass. the same forty-foot drop; repeated the buckshot made the snow-fields with operation, gained exactly the same result. nothing worse than several bad staggers, then both of us men turned in to explore and the splintered rocks sagely and care in earnest. a half hour convinced us that fully, testing each foothold, as was buck we were in a cul-de-sac to which all possible shot's fashion. old slob, too, did well, routes from the saddle converged. there though he was badly frightened. at one was no other way. our glasses showed us spot it was necessary to jump from an un impassable débris below. stable take-off up a little ledge. old slob, we sat down to face the situation. we too anxious to do the thing properly, rath could not go on; we could not camp here er overdid the matter; his pack overbal in the granite, where there was no feed, anced him, and he poised on the verge of no water, no fuel. the nearest of those falling directly backward off the mountain. necessities was precisely whence we had that would have been the end of old slob. started this morning. fortunately, my footing was good, so that “we've got to go back,” concluded wes, by throwing every ounce of my weight into reluctantly. the riata by which i was leading him, i was it was by now three o'clock. we had able to decide the balance. been since daylight getting this far. our so we led them up one at a time. the horses were tired out from the rough climb- climbing was severe, for the altitude was ing and the lack of food; they had not somewhere about eleven thousand feet. had a mouthful since they had ceased graz- we worked like slaves, and when, after ing late the previous night. before us various minor incidents of the kind already was a sharp thousand-foot climb, and then detailed, we had crowded the last of the the extraordinary difficulties we had sur- animals on the big flat rock at the top, we mounted with so much pains and danger. were glad to hunt the lea of a bowlder for as if to add positively a story-book touch a rest. to the discouragement of the outlook, the we ate hardtack and venison jerky and sky clouded over, and a cold, sleety rain raisins, and told each other that the worst began to fall. indeed, as far as we could see, the descent did not seem to be espe- vii cially difficult. a series of ledges slanting into each other irregularly ran in natural lacets to the limit of eyesight. by this time it was three o'clock in the after we had eaten we started down. afternoon. we had to traverse before dark the way was very rough, as you may im the distance we had taken since daylight agine, but opposed no insuperable obstacles to cover. as additional full measure, the to our animals. it was necessary only that clouds, which latterly had been gathering one of us should scout far enough ahead to about the peaks of the kaweah group op- assure an open way from one broad ledge posite, now swept across to envelop us. to another. this was not difficult, for a our horses were tired because of hunger and man afoot can get about much more rapidly the hard day. we could anticipate only a than the horses. occasionally, wes and bleak, hard camp to which we would have billy would halt until i had explored all to drag wood at the end of our riatas before the possibilities of a choice of several routes. we could even get warm. in this way we worked down about a pepper and tuxana alone were aggra- thousand feet. the passage in general vatingly cheerful. they sniffed eagerly was plain before us. we had to do a few into all the crevices among the rocks, hundred feet more of this ledge country, popped up bright-eyed over the tops of then step out on a long shale slide, which, bowlders, quivered with their anxiety to now was over. we fall back the way was very rough, but opposed no insuperable obstacles to our animals. .. the outing magazine find out what all this expedition was about, ping for the heart of the firewood, we man- anyway. it would have suited us better aged to start a little blaze. it grew, and if they had adapted their demeanor more we gathered close. after a time we began accurately to the situation. i wish i had a to feel a trifle less numb. one of us sum- dog's vivid interest in mere living. moned courage to explore among stiff and buckshot groaned and grumbled; din wet canvases in search of the grub bags key swore, but up the ridge they had to and the utensils. we began on hot tea, climb again. in the desperation of great and then plucked up heart for the trouble weariness is an apparently careless haste of slicing bacon, and so on gradually to a that sometimes accomplishes marvels. it full and satisfactory meal. tuxana and carried us over the needles of rock and pepper huddled close and shivered vio- down the snow slopes without the smallest lently in the effort to throw off the chill. accident. rain began to fall, at first like pepper curled up in a ball; but tuxana sat mist, then more heavily in long, pelting on her tail, both hind feet pathetically and lines. darkness was shutting in. ludicrously off the ground, blinking her at this point billy and the dogs left us. bull-terrier pink-rimmed eyes. we felt they were to run down the snow lying deep recovered enough by now to laugh at her. in the cañon. the crust was plenty strong then slowly it became borne in on our enough to support a human being, with now torpid faculties that something yet some to spare, but the horses would prob- remained to be done. not the dishes- ably have broken through. we watched no, indeed—they must wait for the morn- her figure dwindle as she slid and slipped ing. but out of the cold, wet blackness down the long white declivity. our fate beyond the firelight we had to conjure was to pick out in the darkness and rain the sleeping places. the task was not in itself miserable and tortuous foothold we had great; but it had on top of it the weight of that morning constructed. we speedily a long, hard day. became wet through, after which the affair reluctantly we lit the little candle- was an entire engrossment in dark, slippery lantern and looked about. it was a case rocks, the trickle of waters, voids filled with of hard rock that night, for every depres- gray, and constant shoutings of advice, sion of shale was soggy with water, and speculation and encouragement from one boughs there were none at all. so billy to the other of us. the horses traveled and i spread our tarpaulin and the quilt doggedly, as tired horses will, their heads to soften things a trifle, and the gray army swinging. blanket, and crawled in shivering. poor finally we reached the bottom of the old tuxana, wet as a fish, begged hard; slope. a rush of white waters opposed us, but the best we could do for her was a sad- but we plunged in without much attempt dle blanket. into this she retired utterly. to find a ford, and emerged dripping on the pepper, with the combined inconsequence other side. of youth, reliance on a thick wire coat, and billy was awaiting us, together with the personal imbecility of disposition, declined dogs, now utterly crushed under the sud to remain covered, so we left her to her own den realization that it was dark, and neither devices by the spluttering fire. fire nor supper was forthcoming. they we shivered for awhile, then the animal were beginning to regret certain scorned heat accumulated sufficiently beneath our mush of happier days. coverings, and we fell deeply asleep. about an almost invincible disbelief in the pos two o'clock i awoke, the side of me next sibility of comfort overcame us. motion the rock feeling as though it were flattened seemed rather to bring to acuter realization out, like meat that has been in a refrig. our chilly state than to start our blood to erator. my nose was as cold as a dog's. circulation. it required faith, faith deep overhead light clouds were hurrying by. and real, to force us to the unpacking, to through them shone some very pale and the necessary search for fuel, to the patient chilly stars. labor of ignition. the next morning we arose rather later the horses wandered rather dispiritedly than usual. it had cleared somewhat, but away in search of the scanty short-hair the air was bitterly cold. after breakfast grass of this altitude. after much chop we assembled about a recklessly large fire we had just time to dig our heels in and brace for the shock when over she went. io the outing magazine * and discussed what was next to be done. the decision made-i forget what it was we caught up the horses. then it be- came evident that fate had taken mat- ters out of our hands, for jenny's legs, by daylight, proved to be more cut than we had supposed. they had already swollen. we could guess without much effort that jenny would be unfit to travel for at least ten days. so we put my riding saddle on the cripple, transferred her pack to coco, and billy to my own horse, bullet. “i will climb the ridge again,” said i, "and look for a route over from the other cañon. you can make camp at the mead- ow where the two cañons come together, and i will join you about dark.” they filed away, and once more ad- dressed myself to the ascent. in climbing a mountain at a high eleva- tion you start out comfortably enough. the first symptom of trouble is a shorten- ing of your breath, the next a violent pounding of your heart; then come sensa- tions of heavy weights attached to your feet, ringing of your ears, blurring of your eyes, perhaps a slight giddiness. it is now time to stop after a moment the land- scape steadies, the symptoms subside. you are ready for another little spurt. the moment you stop, or strike level ground, you are all right; but at the highest eleva- tions, even a slight incline or a light bur- den will bring you immediate distress. at just what elevation this distress becomes acute depends on your individual make-up. some people cannot stand even six or seven thousand feet. billy is fit for navigation up to about thirteen thousand. beyond that point she is subject to a seizure that stiffens her out as though by a stroke of paralysis. snow on the forehead brings her around all right, and luckily snow is abundant that high. i personally have never been beyond fifteen thousand feet; but that altitude, though rendering rapid exertion extremely laborious, did not affect me painfully. an hour brought me to the snow. could see very well how to get up through a chimney were it not for that snow. but in present conditions the case was abso- lutely hopeless. the slant was such that even in soft footing a horse would have difficulty to keep from falling, but now the substratum of ice made the passage abso- lutely impossible. in addition, the snow itself lay in sharp edges and cups several feet deep, like a gigantic muffin mold of innumerable hollows. one had either to attempt the knife edges of the partitions, or to climb laboriously in and out of the hollows. generally the result turned out to be a disconcerting compromise between the two. however, another twenty minutes' hard work took me to the top. there i quickly. traversed the t where the two canons headed against the ridge, and stood once more looking out over deadman's cañon. the great black masses of the kaweah group were blacker still with a formidable thunderstorm slowly gathering about its peaks. so sinister, gloomy and forbidding did the cañons and crevices become as the light was blotted from their glittering snows and rocks that i could not rid myself of the notion that the very essence of the world was undergoing the transformation of some catastrophe. it had started yonder, under those black peaks. it was spreading, as spilled water spreads. shortly it would kill that broad, smiling, sunny meadow far beneath. then it would creep up the slope below. then it would swallow me. a peal of thunder seemed to tear apart the stillness with the voice of a command. one after another the mountains echoed back the submissive response, as though reporting themselves at their posts for the sinister change that was to befall them. i thought to hear a faint and distant roar- ing. a gray veil suddenly shut out the peaks. this seemed to break the spell of por- tent. i noted that the air currents and the configuration of the mountains were likely to carry the storm eastward, and so set to work. i scouted until i found, about fifteen hundred feet down, some stunted trees and feed. then i worked out a route to them. then i built as much trail as was necessary. this took me a long time. whether we should be able to do the other fifteen hundred feet down to the green meadow and the round lake did not matter for the present. it was enough if we could penetrate so far into the enemy's country, sure of sustenance and a space for the soles of our feet. while engaged at lis work i came across a big drift of pink the pass ii snow. pink snow is a little hard to believe nent;—we put up the little balloon silk in, but it exists. i understand that the tint tent, which heretofore had been used only comes from the pollen of some flower. the as a pack cloth. the bed you arrange fact remains that the very substance of the carefully, smoothing the ground with the snow is pink, decidedly pink, like pink back of the axe swung adze-wise between cotton; and when you step on it, it crushes your legs, laying parallel two generous into an appearance of pale blood. when lengths of logs well pegged to prevent roll- i first saw it far above me, on the slope of ing, filling between them first with dry pine a mountain, i thought i must have chanced needles, then with balsam fans thatched on some anachronistic glow that had hap- carefully springy side up. it is fun to cut pened around too late for sunrise or too balsam. the thicket is warm with the early for sunset. radiation of sun from fragrant piney things. by seven o'clock i had reached the you clip and clip away with the hatchet, forks of the canons. the thunder shower bathed in tepid odors and buzzy sounds. had increased to a cloud-burst, and the it is a leisurely occupation that you cannot cloud-burst had overtaken the pack train. hurry, and so you lapse gladly into that so violently had the water beaten down half-dreamy state to be acquired only in that the horses refused to proceed. they the woods, wherein the golden afternoon ran their heads into thick spruce trees and seems to comprise several eternities. then declined to budge. billy and wes had to you return to camp, and begin feverishly sit there and take it. billy thought it the construction of a table. great fun; but, as wes pointed out, she it is a very ingenious table, supported owned a poncho. wes did not, but re by three saplings suspended between two tained a semblance of triumphant good hu trees. across them you lay wands, and mor because by some mysterious method over the wands you spread your oilcloth. of his own he had kept his tobacco and ciga the bench you make of hewn logs (be sure rette papers dry. they are dry, otherwise you may stick to the ground was soaked, and miniature your seat), supported on cross-pieces be- gullies had worked down through the pine tween forked branches driven into the needles. we built a big fire, turned out ground. you place your eating utensils, the horses and so once more slept with the and feel the creator's joy. great and complex voice of the river. then remain a dozen other affairs. the fireplace is elaborate; the saddles are con- ceded a rack. and you make a woodpile. viii ordinarily, while traveling, you cook with what you can pick up, or chop in two the permanent camp by a stroke or so of the axe. now you cut after far wandering a permanent camp the nearest pine logs into lengths, and lug is a great refreshment to the spirit. these lengths into camp on your shoulders, you start in animated by the utmost staggering uncertainly. and then you hit vigor. there are so many things to be with your axe a mighty whack lengthwise, done, and they all occur to your mind and insert a wedge of hard wood in the at once. after breakfast you seize the crack thus made, and beat the wedge until axe and take to the brush. the search it is buried, and then insert another wedge for straight saplings forking at required lower down, until at last the log splits in heights becomes absorbing. you cut them two with a great tearing of wood fibers. and drag them to camp and stick them in whereupon you attack the halves in like their appointed places. there is an am manner, and then the quarters, until in the plitude to these preparations in delicious final result you are possessed of a number contrast to the direct utilitarianism of your of slender split posts. you lay one of these camp-making while on trail. so must posts over your chopping log. a full swing have felt the founder of cologne cathedral, of the axe bites deep and slanting. you his soul big and tranquil with the thought reverse the blade and whack mightily on of the three hundred years of building that the end. the slender post breaks at the were to follow. you make a shelter and a point of the axe cut, and at last you lay bed. the former is beautiful and perma aside with pride the first stick of firewood. i the outing magazine there is a joy in the clean, accurate labor, in due time. it is this: a whole glori- a pleasure in stretching your muscles. and ous woodland day lies before you, and in the gleaming yellow piles grow almost like it is no question of pack rope, horse or magic. trail. you can do just exactly as much or by now you are fully in the vein. you as little as you please. are tired; but you do not know enough to probably you elect to putter around feel so. a score of desirable little tasks camp. there are innumerable things to crowd on your intention. you will put do, and you can have fun at any one of up shelves, and make a meat safe, and them. to sit straddle a log, tinkering sweep the forest floor, and dig a garbage away at a new latigo for your saddle, is joy, pit, and rope in the camp, and especially if you can look up every now "look here!" complains your compan and then to a very blue sky not much be- ion, "don't you think we'd better call this yond very tall trees. little items of re- a day? i'm hungry!" pair have long been awaiting this leisure. you glance up with surprise. the pines also there is laundry, with a glorious are silhouetting against the west. shad chance to wash everything washable, even ows are half tree high already, and the down to the long-suffering dish rag. i coolness of evening is creeping very cau should advise one of the cold-water soaps, tiously, very slowly down through the as it is difficult to scare up anything big lowest thickets. the sparrows and vireos enough to boil clothes in. seem to have fallen silent. a pensive and if you are fond of cooking, now is melody of thrushes steals in and out of the your chance to indulge in the most astound- forest aisles. ing culinary orgies. simple puddings, you straighten your back, and suddenly cakes and other bakings are quite within feel very tired. the day is indeed done. the reach of the ingenious camp cook; and next morning very early you awaken there is necessary only the widest possible and look straight up at the sky. the pine interpretation of recipes, and the com- tops touch it shyly-you could almost im pletest audacity in substitution. if you agine that gently swaying in the wind they have no eggs, why, never mind. perhaps had brushed the stars away. a great dried prunes will do. try it, anyway. i singing of birds fills the air. so innumer once made a very good pudding out of able are the performers that it is difficult the remains of boiled macaroni, some cold to distinguish the individuals. the result cornmeal mush, sugar, cinnamon and rai- might be called a tremendous and com sins. this, when baked through and well posite chattering. only here the tone of browned atop, proved to be marvelously the chattering is supremely musical, so that popular. i admit it does not sound very the forest seems to be echoing to the voice good. of some single melodious creature. the cooking zeal is cumulative. there near by a squirrel, like a fussy little old comes a day when you cook from morning gentleman, jerks about nervously. until evening, and then triumphantly an- “dear, dear!” says he. “look at those nounce a feast. if you possess real en- people! look at those people!” thusiasm, you get up menus and table after he has repeated this a few score of decorations. here is one we gave at lake times he fusses away, probably to report charlotte, eleven thousand feet up, in honor to the proper officers that he must object, of the birthday of our old friend spoopen- he really must object to such persons being dyke. your true celebrant in the woods admitted to his club. the sun strikes always makes his feast an occasion, even through the woods and glorifies a dogwood if he has to invent one. just to the left of its direct line of illumina- tion. the light partly reflects from, partly clam soup à la dieu sait quoi fried trout à la lac charlotte shines through the delicate leaves, until bacon à la axlegrease the whole bush becomes ethereal, a gently scrambled eggs à la tin can glowing soul of itself. you stretch luxu bread corn bread biscuits riously, and extend your legs, and an un- vegetables à la abercrombie boiled potatoes baked beans wonted feeling of satisfaction steals over rice pudding strawberries spice cake you. you wonder why. the reason comes nuts raisins he took his time, smelled out each step, and passed without an accident the outing magazine at you. on the reverse came the axle boxes and took out a dozen slices of the condemned pork they had packed in wine list there for lubricating. old harrington said tea in the large pot coffee in the small pot he'd never eaten better meat.” cocoa make it yourself, darn you you exclaim, politely, a little doubtfully. water go to the spring the old sinner presses down the tobacco in lemonade in the small bottle his pipe and cocks his eye whiskey drink $ ; smell . cigars pipes cigarettes “the joke of it was,” says he, “that sing hop never had to touch that meat. after a brilliant climax of this sort, you the friction-heat of the axles had cooked generally settle back to a more leisurely it just right.” gait. other things engage your attention. “you'll never go to heaven,” murmurs you hunt, you fish, you explore the im some one, kicking the fire. a column of mediately surrounding country. sparks startles the shadows into momen- and then little by little you run down, tary flight. like a clock that has not been wound. ‘speaking of heaven," continues the there is plenty of venison in camp; fish sinner cheerfully: "did you ever hear of ing palls. you lie around during endless the two old arizonians who met for the golden hours, shifting with the sun, watch first time in ten years? of course, they ing the rainbow colors in your eyelashes, had to celebrate. by-and-by they got to soaking in comfort and rest as thirsty the tearful stage of the game, and began ground takes up water. in the evening to mourn the absence of jim. jim had you swap yarns and hold academic discus been dead fifteen years. that didn't make sions around the camp fire. if it were not any difference, however. for the fact that you have to chop wood “it jes' spoils thish evenin' that jim for that camp fire you could take root and ain't here,' sobbed one. how dear oľ your brains would turn out budding lit- jim would have enjoyed this evenin'!' tle green branches. the academic discus “they mourned awhile in hopeless gloom, sions are lazily delivered and irresponsible, and then one saw a little glimmer of light oh, utterly irresponsible! the ordinary in the situation. rules of coherency and probability are “nev’ mind!' said he, brightening up, quite relaxed. you hear the most ex 'when i die an' go to heaven, i'll tell dear traordinary stories, and still more extraor ol' jim about thish evenin'!' dinary theories. “yes,' said the other earnestly, but “i remember when i was foreman of a s'pose dear ol jim didn't go to heaven?' construction gang in the mountains north “'then,' replied the first quite un- of here, the company used to buy con alarmed, then you tell him!” demned army supplies. for a while they every one smokes and stares into the ran short of lubricating oil, so they used heart of the fire. a glowing log crumples to pack the axle boxes of the cars with at the middle, and sinks to coals. the slices of salt pork; it worked fine. flames die to blues and lucent pale-greens. "well, i used to pride myself on running in the partial re-establishment of darkness a mighty nifty camp, then, and i had a the stars look down between the trees. chink that could put up a real feed. one “i wonder,” says some one, dreamily, day old harrington himself dropped off on “what will be the first message flashed me with some of his city friends, so as soon from those other worlds when at last com- as i could break away i hiked over to the munication is established; what bit of in- cook shack. formation out of all our boundless curiosity “'sing hop,' says i, ‘old man come. we shall ask for? shall we hit for the funda- rustle plenty good chop, poco pronto.' mentals? shall we inquire, ‘do you die, "no hab got meat,' says sing hop. up there? do you hope? do you fear? do 'him no come.' "well, that looked bad for the reputa “probably some trust will get hold of it, tion of my camp, now, didn't it? then an and the first message will be: 'use brog- idea came to me. i sneaked around the gins' tongue titillators, the best bon- other side of the train, opened one of the bon,'” replied the brutal member. you love?'” the pass numerous. - "well, after all, it won't matter," insists over-elaborate caution of a schoolboy on the idealist unabashed. “the important the stalk for imaginary indians. thing will not be the message, but the fact the signs were tracks that it is the first message.” crossed and recrossed the ridge, all of them a tentative, chilly little night wind ven round and full buck tracks. the more tures across the dying fire. the incan pointed doe footprints would be found at a descent coals, with their halls and gal lower elevation, where, in the shelter of leries magnificent, sink together with a denser growth, they would be taking care faint sound. in a moment they begin to of their fawns. after an hour wes, who film over. the features of your compan for the moment was in the lead, stopped ions grow indistinct. outside noises come short and began cautiously to level his more clearly to your attention, for strangely rifle. i stepped to one side and looked. enough the mere fact of firelight seems to about a hundred yards away, above the hold at a distance not only the darkness brush, i could just make out two spike but the sounds that people it. the rush horns and a pair of ears pointed inquiringly of waters, the sighing of winds, the distant in our direction. the horns looked not un- mournful owl notes, or sleepy single chirp like the branches of dead manzanita, and the of some momentarily awakened day bird ears blended with the foliage in that strange, these come closer with the reassured shad semi-transparent manner possessed alike ows creeping down to pounce on the dying by wild creatures and woodland shadows. fire. tuxana and pepper quivered. a tense in the group some one raps a pipe stillness seemed all at once to grip fast the sharply twice. some one else stretches universe, a stillness which would require a and sighs. the stir of leaves tells of reluc mighty effort to break. tant risings. ‘bang!” spoke old meat-in-the-pot. "time to turn in, boys; good night," a swift compact cloud of dust immedi- says one. ately sprang up from the spot where the in a moment you and the faint glow in deer had stood. a thousand echoes rever- the ashes are left alone together. berated from cliff to forest and back again. the necessity for caution, for silence, for we made a good camp under tall trees. slow and deliberate motion seemed in- then we produced the flour sack contain stantaneously to have broken into these ing our much-read “library''; destroyed flying fragments of sound. i sprang to arrears in the laundry business; shaved the top of a bowlder, pepper uttered a elaborately, nd so prepared ourselves for single excited yap, wes spoke aloud. a good time. missed, by thunder!” said he. first of all we were hungry for fresh in the tones of wes' voice was deep dis- meat, so wes and i rode down the river to gust. wes is an excellent rifle shot, and get a deer. we tied the horses at the edge rarely misses. of the snow-brush, made our way labor i could see the bushes swing with the iously up to the castellated tops of the deer's progress down hill, and occasionally ridges where the bucks lie to harden their i caught a momentary glimpse of his high, antlers, and crept along, slowly looking springing jumps. springing jumps. evidently he intended with all our eyes. the early morning was half circling the hill. almost could i get too much of an effort after our hard work of enough of a sight to shoot, and the ex- the past few weeks, so now the time was pectation constantly recurring, and as con- late afternoon. in the before-evening cool stantly frustrated, set me in an agony of ness our game should be afoot, stepping desire to take the course of events into my daintily in and out among the manzanita own hands, to shift and adjust them and and snow-bush, nipping a mouthful here order them. wes, screened in by thick and there, pausing at every step or so to brush, was grumbling away behind me. look watchfully about over the landscape. “he was lying down,” he growled, “and pepper and tuxana, chipmunks scornfully i undershot. he was lying down—if i'd forgotten, trailed along at our heels. they had any sense at all, i could 'a' seen that understood perfectly that important affairs with my mouth!” were forward, and stepped with almost the unexpectedly matters adjusted them- the outing magazine selves. the deer, abandoning his first in portation. tuxana let go with reluctance. tention, turned sharp to the right through it was the culminating moment of her emo- an open space. i tried to aim so that the tional existence. she held herself ready bullet would catch him as he struck the to give any further assistance that might ground at the finish of one of his buck be needed. jumps-really the only way to hit a run the mountain deer is not large, and this ning deer. at the shot he went down in was only a spike buck. we cleaned him, a cloud of dust. cut off his head and hocks, and tied each “i got him!” i yelled. hind leg to its opposite fore leg. thus he but the deer seemed only momentarily resembled a rather bulky knapsack, with stunned, for he was almost instantly afoot, loops through which to thrust the arms. and off again with apparently as much we fed the “lights” to the appreciative vigor as ever. afterward we found that dogs, and then carried the venison to the my bullet had gone through the shoulder horses. without either breaking the bone or enter the meat supply thus assured, we felt ing the body cavity. privileged to loaf a bit. about four of the at this point tuxana appeared, made a afternoon we used to start out fishing. flying leap at the deer's throat; missed, roaring river is not particularly well but tried the next best that offered itself. stocked, but we could get a mess, and it in this case the next best happened to be was extremely pleasant to make our way the deer's tail. that she did not miss. through the thickets, over and around the it was much better than gunnysacks. rocky points where the bluffs came down, i do not doubt that in the brief moment to the one little spot where the rushing during which tuxana remained on terra white water paused behind the bowlder. firma, and while her mental processes were trout fishing anywhere is one of the best still unconfused, a great illumination came of sports. trout fishing in the mountains to her of many things heretofore mysterious is superlative. the forest trees, the sheets —of the reason for gunnysacks, and why of granite, the rush and boil of the water, dogs delight to swing from them, and how the innumerable busy bird voices, the cool they are intended in the scheme of things high air, all seem to fill the immediate world as a training and a preparation for such with movement and bustle; yet you have crises of life as this. and so tuxana sailed but to raise your eyes to be calmed by the away, hitting the scenery on an average of great snow peaks lying serene beneath the once every hundred feet. the last i saw intense blue skies of the higher altitudes. of her for that moment was as the deer and then quite early in the afternoon the jumped a log. her four feet were rigidly shadows begin to climb the easterly wall; extended in four different directions, un and as they do so, the upper peaks become certain as to which one would alight first, ethereal, until at the last (after your own and how. and in her soul i knew there little world has fallen to twilight) they was deep joy. glow and palpitate with a pulsating soap- we followed the trail for a quarter of a bubble iridescence. mile. then we came to a stream flowing one day it happened that we killed two among bowlders. in the middle of the rattlesnakes, which was quite extraordi- stream and half over a miniature fall lay nary so high in the mountains. the camp- the deer. firmly attached to its tail was fire talk that evening centered on the rep- tuxana, the bull-dog, her sturdy legs braced tiles. we swapped the usual yarns and back to hold the great weight against the experiences; indulged in the customary current, her jaws clamped, the water pour argument as to remedies. wes told of ing over lier flanks. when we approached the chicken which when killed, split, and she rolled her little pink-rimmed eyes at tied fresh to the wound clung there vali- us. in them we read satisfaction with the antly for two hours, and then, "black as condition of affairs. she gave no other your hat, sir!” fell off of its own accord. sign. billy and i agreed that this was marvelous. we put a bullet through the deer's head, wes likewise gave as his disillusioned opin- hauled him-and tuxana-ashore, and set ion that whiskey is not efficacious. why? about the job of preparing him for trans well, he knew of a man who, while very first they had to skirt the lake and climb slanting up the steep snow bank. scouting on a steep slope with a precipice just below. drunk, was bitten, and who forthwith died. chances are that he is too torpid, either and, of course, in this case the whiskey from cold or feeding, to strike at all. even had a head start on the poison. if trodden on at such a time, his stroke is “wes," said , "did you ever know, in apt to be feeble and slow. another ele- your experience, of a man dying from ment of safety resides in the fact that snake bite?” leather, or even thick clothing, will gener- "oh, yes," said he. ally wipe the venom back along the grooved “tell me about it." fang, so that even if the skin is actually “well,” he began, “a friend of jim broken, the probabilities of infection are brown's, down in tulare county, was bit, small. at such a juncture the supposed and jim told me —” victim twines himself around the whiskey and that is about the usual answer to jug, and passes away in an attack of de- such a question. during a fairly extended lirium tremens. add to these considera- experience in snake countries i have made tions even the ordinary precaution of a it a point to proffer that inquiry, and up to sharp lookout and an occasional stone date i have found just three men in whose rolled ahead into especially snaky-looking veracity i had confidence who claim to places, and your risk is not worth men- have seen a man dead of snake bite. hun tioning. dreds could prove cases by the next fellow; as i have said, the rattlesnake's main and i have no doubt that the publication desire is to be let alone. i have killed hun- of this will bring forth many scornful ex dreds, and i never knew but one case of postulants who have seen whole cohorts the snake's taking the aggressive-in the succumb. but such have been the results sense of coming forth to attack. this was of my own careful and extended interro a large diamond-back that had twined him- gations. self about the roots of a manzanita. we this does not mean that the rattlesnake wanted his skin, and so had spent some does not inflict a fatal bite; but merely time poking at him with a stick, trying to that the chances of such a bite, even in a get his head into such a position that a snake country, are exceedingly small. the shot at it would not injure his body. evi- reptile usually begins to rattle before you dently he got tired of this, for after a few are within ten yards of him, and is always moments he uncoiled, came out from his more anxious to retreat than to court shelter, and advanced on one of us. his trouble. when he does not rattle, the mouth was open wide, like the snakes on the pass the circus posters, his head was erect, and plished for him a record-breaking broad he had every appearance of determina jump. tion. he advanced straight toward the late one evening in the southern part of tenderfoot, rattling vigorously. that in the mountains, wes and i were returning dividual promptly stepped aside, whereup to camp after an unsuccessful deer hunt. on the snake likewise changed his course. our way led down a steep slope covered this was repeated several times, so that with pine needles. we swung along rap- we could have no doubt that he was actu idly, six feet at a stride. suddenly i no- ally on the aggressive, was actually trying ticed just about two yards ahead of wes, to get at our friend. who was preceding me, a rattlesnake cross- three fallacies on this subject i have ing our way. my companion's next step often seen printed. one is that a snake would bring him fairly atop the reptile. i cannot rattle unless coiled. he can. yelled, and at the same instant wes must have often seen them moving rapidly across have seen his danger. his stride did not the trail, head and tail both up, buzzing alter its rhythm, nor did he appear to put away like an alarm clock. the second forth the least increase of muscular effort. fallacy is that he cannot strike unless but he fairly sailed into space. coiled. he can. i admit that the zone of wes told me another yarn of how he and danger is somewhat more contracted, but a young fellow, occupying overnight a rang- it exists. the third is that he never can ers' cabin, nearly got into serious trouble. strike more than half his own length. this "i was sitting on a bench," said wes, last is ordinarily true, but it is an unsafe "and the kid was lying on the bunk read- rule to rely on. once in a deep, hot cañon ing, his head on one hand. i looked up, i dismounted to kill a rather small rattler and nearly froze stiff when i saw a snake coiled against a rock. i selected what coiled right under his armpit, in the hollow seemed to me to be a long enough pole, of his arm. i knew if i said anything the made one hit-and was missed by just kid would move, and that would be about about six inches! now i stood at least all. and, of course, i couldn't do nothin'. five feet from that snake, and he was not the snake was too close to his body for me over thirty inches long. from him to me to shoot. so i sat there figurin' away to was slightly down hill; but the especial myself; and i guess i must have prayed point was that the reptile had by the merest that was an interesting book. anyway, chance happened to get a purchase for his finally i sneaked over, and i reached out, spring from the rock against which he was and i got that kid by the wrist he was coiled. that was abnormal, of course, but leaning his head on, and i give him one good it wouldn't have helped me any if he had yank! i reckon i was so scared i overdid landed. the matter, for that kid hit so hard against the best way is to give them a wide berth. the other wall that it mighty nigh killed if you have a rifle and enough ammunition him.” just point the muzzle in his direction, hold wes weighs about two hundred and is steady for a moment, and pull the trigger. strong as a horse. i did not envy the kid's you will get his head every time. he will predicament either before or after the dis- do all the necessary aiming himself, as his covery of the snake. instinct is to thrust his head directly toward we told these and other tales about the the nearest dangerous object. if, how camp fire. that night billy, too, had her ever, you have no rifle ammunition to throw experience with snakes. away, then use your six-shooter. only in when billy retires for slumber she wears this event you will have to be your own a sort of blanket robe with a peaked hood, marksman. which she pulls up over her head. about it is astonishing how instantaneously two in the morning she awoke with a start, the human nerves react to the shrill buzz. thoroughly convinced that something was a man who has never heard it before rec wrong. after a moment her faculties ad- ognizes it at once. and the moment the justed themselves, and she turned cold sound vibration strikes his ear-drum-long about the heart as she realized that a before it has had a chance of interpretation snake had crawled into the blanket, and by the brain-his muscles have accom was coiled between her head and the hood. the outing magazine she did not know what to do. if she her entire weight on that leg, so we slung moved, even to awaken me, the snake, dis her up. dinkey, with customary mali- turbed in the warm comfort for the sake ciousness, tried every mischievous trick to of which he had made his invasion, would bother us; but we settled her promptly by probably strike. the minutes dragged by throwing and hog-tying. to add to our in an agony. finally, billy reasoned that troubles, the punch broke. we had no she was doomed to be bitten anyway, forge, of course, so we were under the ne- and that a bite in the hand was preferable cessity of burying it until red in the hottest to one in the head, so with a degree of very fire we could make of cones and pitch-pine, real courage, she softly inserted her hand beating it with a hatchet, and tempering in the hood, poised it over what felt to be it as best we could in bacon grease. after the thickest coil, pounced suddenly--and three attempts we made it serviceable and nearly yanked herself out of bed by the went ahead. but we were mighty glad braid of her hair!* when the last nail was driven. a week slipped by before we knew it. there is a finality about the abandon- the only incidents were occasional noon ment of a permanent camp to be experi- thunderstorms, and the sight of a bear. enced in no other household removal. you this i saw, but as a fishing rod was my have made this home in the wilderness, and deadliest possession, i did not get him. even the short period of your residence has a consequent hunt resulted in a yearling given it an individuality. now you leave cub, which made good meat, but was not it, and you are absolutely certain that this otherwise interesting. particular abiding place you will never see at the end of the week we realized that again. the moment your back is turned, jenny's legs would not much longer serve the forest begins her task of resolving it so we prepared for our to its original elements. chipmunks and monthly job of shoeing the animals. squirrels and little birds make away quickly if i were the only blacksmith in the with the débris. the trees sift down the world i would charge fifty dollars for shoe-. forest litter. already beneath the soil are ing a horse. it is the most back-break germinating seeds which shall spring up to ing, tiresome job i know of. we carried cover the place where your bed had lain, the malleable "goodenough" shoe, which and the very ashes of your camp fires are could be fashioned cold; but even with fertilizing them. next year you may re- that advantage each animal seemed to turn to this identical spot. but you will develop enough feet to furnish out a centi not resume your place in your old camp. pede. calamity jane appeared to look on new camp is to be made from new ma- us as a rest cure. whenever we got a foot terials amid new surroundings. the old of hers off ground, she promptly leaned has vanished forever as completely as the smoke of the fires that used to eddy down * since writing the above pepper has been bitten by a rattlesnake. the reptile struck her just back through the trees. of the ankle joint. almost immediately the whole so when the time came, we packed our leg and shoulder swelled enormously and became ex- ceedingly painful. i carried her over my saddle for animals and hit the trail eagerly enough, some miles and then went into camp for several days in order to give her a chance of recovery: it is true, for we were well rested; but a pup had a mighty sick time of it. the leg and foot were puffed out and as stiff as a club. little regretfully also. the camp by roar- could bear no weight on it-in fact the lightest touch ing river had been a good camp. we to the ground caused her to cry dolefully. at night she sometimes took an hour to lie down. had enjoyed it. and though we knew the ing ran down the left side of her chest in a great welt. at the end of two days the symptoms began to sub- voice of the waters would continue to call side with marvelous quickness. by the morning of through the forest, we knew also that in all the third she was as well as ever, and followed me afoot over shuteye pass. probability it would not call to us again. as an excuse. the poor of course she the swell- (to be continued.) - - when the sap begins to climb. copyright photograph by charles h. sawyer dillon wallace wallace in labrador a successful trip to lake michikamau by g. m. richards * photographs by the author ate in the after- noon of june th we left north- west river and l paddled three miles to the house of a native, tom blake, at the foot of grand lake. the following morning, accompanied by duncan mclean (one of the men who had rescued mr. wallace on his previous expedition), we made our real start up grand lake. on the night of june th we were in camp on the nascaupee river, opposite the junction of the red river, the point where the indian portage route leaves the nascaupee. it took us three days to cross the portage—which is five and a half miles long, with a rise of one thousand and fifty feet in the first two miles. we were "go- ing light,” which in our case meant an outfit weighing one thousand five hundred pounds. with the first hot days of july came the vanguard of an army of winged pests. they at once retreated to the main body with the glad news of our coming, and thereafter we were seldom free from their attacks—flies during the day, mosquitoes at night, which gave us no rest. on the th of july we killed the first caribou, and were delayed a short time drying the meat. in the meantime we scouted for the trail to the crooked river, which we reached on july th. the country between the nascaupee and crooked rivers, which has been devastated by fire, is a series of rolling hills and ridges strewn with glacial bowlders, and is ex- tremely rough and barren. previous to this time we had had oc- casional rainy days, but beginning with the second week in july it rained inter- mittently, with but few exceptions, every day for two weeks. on july d, when we were camped on lake nipishish, the source of the crooked river, duncan mc- lean left us to return across country to his boat on the nascaupee. just two weeks later, after a great deal of portaging and searching for trails, we reached seal lake. the country through which we had passed, although partially burned and very barren, bore everywhere fresh and numer- ous signs of caribou. on august th, as we were ascending the nascaupee river above seal lake, pete, our indian guide, killed the second caribou. our time being very limited, we were unable to jerk the meat, but that night we dried it as much as possible, by hanging it close to a large fire. the nascaupee river, between lake michikamau and seal lake, winds its way between steep rocky hills, which, where not swept by fire, support a sparse and stunted growth of spruce and birch, that gradually grows thinner and smaller, and finally stops in a ragged fringe half way to the summits. on the river above seal lake, for about thirty miles, paddling was possible, but the current gradually became too strong, until at last it was necessary to use the tracking lines. in this manner we pro- ceeded: one walked ahead, hauling the line, another waded along shore keeping the canoe clear of the rocks. it was slow * mr. richards was one of the party dillon wallace organized for his second venture into unexplored labra- at lake michikamau, with provisions running low, wallace divided his party, sending back richards, stan- ton and pete, and pushing on with but a single com- panion. -the editor. . dor. dillon wallace in labrador work, and not until august th did we sionally we shot a spruce-partridge or a reach the point where the indian trail duck, but they were scarce. once a loon, leaves the nascaupee, making a second now and then a gull, helped out our fail- long detour through a chain of lakes, to ing food supply. owls, however, were avoid a series of rapids in the river. our great mainstay. they would fly into mr. wallace, on learning that we had a camp, perch on a dead tree and wait pa- twelve-mile portage ahead, decided to tiently for some one to shoot them. thus cache some flour and pemmican, thereby we continued until august th. all that enabling us to travel faster. accordingly, accordingly, day we paddled on a long lake, which we we cached forty-five pounds of flour and hoped might lead into the nascaupee river thirty pounds of pemmican. as easton near michikamau, but when night overtook remarked, “it seemed like burying our best us at the head of the lake we were—ap- friend." no one, i am sure, expected to parently—as far from our goal as ever. see that cache again, for we all hoped to our supply of pork and flour was now be at the caribou migration, and afterward nearly exhausted; in fact, we had little of follow the george river to ungava bay. anything except the pemmican which had crossing the long portage, we came upon been saved as an emergency ration. a chain of lakes. the trails between them, a few miles to the westward of our camp- which have not been used for ten years, ing place, there rose abruptly from the became more and more indistinct, until on comparatively level plateau a high conical august th we were unable to find any hill, commanding an excellent view of the sign of a portage. our provisions were surrounding country. the next day pete rapidly dwindling, game was very scarce, and easton climbed this hill, returning and we had eaten the last of the caribou late at night with the report that lake three days before. it was soft and smelled michikamau was twenty-six miles away. badly, but pete washed it several times the following morning, as we were sitting and boiled it with a little pork. it was by the fire after a meager breakfast, mr. very good! wallace announced that the party would no longer having any trail to follow, we have to separate. “the success of the ex- traveled as much as possible in a wester pedition demands it,” he said. pete, stan- ly direction, knowing that sooner or later ton and myself were to return to the cache we would reach lake michikamau. occa on the nascaupee, and depend on that to stanton, richards and pete (left to right), leaving wallace at lake michikamau the outing magazine indian route lake michikama u grs on route followed by wallace from cariy us to northwest river post. by was spoken--for no one could trust himself this scheme, mr. wallace and easton would to speak. have left sufficient food to enable them to as the two men dipped their paddles continue across lakes michikamau and and headed their canoe into the north, we michikamats, thence over the divide to the who remained shouldered our packs and headwaters of the george river-on which turned toward home. at the top of the stream they hoped to meet the caribou in ridge we stopped and watched the little their annual migration. near the mouth canoe, until it became mere speck, bob- of the george river is a post of the hud bing up and down on the horizon. pete son bay company once there they would turned to me. “gosh, i feel bad, i almost be safe. it was his intention to remain at cry!” he said. george river post until december, when our canoe we had left thirteen miles the ice would be sufficiently strong to per- from lake michikamau, and beyond the mit of travel with dogs, and then start for canoe, about the same distance, lay the quebec, following down the east coast of camp, where the greater part of our outfit labrador. was cached. this we hoped to reach by it was decided that we three who were nightfall. pete, who like most of his race to turn back should leave everything but was a good walker, started straight across our blankets at the camp and continue with country over hills and through marshes, at mr. wallace to lake michikamau. this we a terrific pace, that taxed our energies to did, and four days later, at noon of sep the utmost. stanton soon fell behind com- tember d, our entire party stood on the plaining of faintness, and we were obliged shore of the “big lake,” for a sight of which to stop twice to "boil the kettle.” we had worked so long. in the course of the morning we killed that afternoon we divided the food that two owls and a spruce hen, reaching the still remained. mr. wallace took seventy canoe at p.m. when six o'clock came, eight pounds of pemmican, twelve pounds and the sun, a red ball of fire, dropped be- of pea meal, five cups of flour, one cup of low the jagged fringe of spruce tops, we corn meal, seven pounds of pork, a few were still a few miles from camp. in lab- small boxes of beef extract and desiccated rador, with the sunset comes the cold, and vegetables, and tea, coffee, salt and crystal our feet and hands were soon so numb it lose. for the return journey to the cache was almost impossible to hold the paddle. on the nascaupee river we had twenty five days before, at the mouth of a small eight pounds of pemmican, some tea and stream near camp, i had set a net. it was salt. rotten and torn full of holes by the large after breakfast on the morning of sep pike, but we found in it seven whitefish and tember th mr. wallace read from a little a “namaycush,” measuring thirty inches. bible the passage he had read to hubbard although some of the fish smelled badly, when they said good-bye for the last time. having been in the net some time, they then we shook hands. hardly a word were a welcome addition to our supply. dillon wallace in labrador x ony aa grand lake to lake michikamau. pete was that night, as we lay rolled in our blan at last, on the night of september rith, kets before the fire, the northern lights we were once more camped at the begin- swept gently to and fro across the heavens, ning of the long portage—and the cache of in ever changing hues; from far out on the flour only twelve miles away. for nearly lake came the mournful, wavering cry of a two weeks we had had nothing but fish and loon. pete shivered and moved nearer the meat, and all were looking forward to a fire. “dat's very bad sign,” he said. the taste of bread the next day. canoe was leaking badly, so next morning continually talking about bread—“indian we gathered some spruce gum, mixed with can't live without flour," he used to say. it a little grease from a pemmican tin, and but the next day came, and with it wind then melting the mixture in the frying-pan and rain. the trail wound in and out applied it to the canvas where it had been among the small spruce trees, like a rabbit cut by the rocks. that evening we camped track, and across a wide plateau covered on a narrow stream between two lakes, with white caribou moss. walking on across which we stretched the net. even that moss was like walking in deep snow before it was made fast i could feel the without snowshoes. at every step one tug of the fish as they became entangled sank half way to the knee, and the roots in its meshes. making camp was a simple of the moss, which were always wet and matter, for we had no tent, and tea was slimy, caused continual slipping. pete the only thing that required a fire. we and i carried the canoe alternately, until spread our blankets on the sand near the at last the wind made it impossible for one net, and every time the cork floats bobbed man to handle it. then we were obliged under pete would jump into the canoe to make two trips on the portage, and when with a shout, and land the fish. at that night came we were still four miles from camp we caught about sixty pounds of the flour. at one o'clock of september fish, principally whitefish and lake trout, th we reached the nascaupee river and though there were a few brook trout and the cache. we at once dug up the precious suckers. of those fish very little was flour; the bag was covered with green wasted, for we always ate the heads and mold and the flour itself was full of great entrails. moldy lumps, but when mixed and baked as we wished to save the pemmican in the frying-pan, “good” was no word until the last, we lived entirely on boiled for it. fish and tea-sometimes varied by an owl, it was late in the afternoon when we a spruce-partridge or a muskrat—and were started down the river from the cache. soon afficted with an unquenchable thirst. the current of the nascaupee is swift, the quantities of water and tea which we though only at intervals is there white consumed afforded but momentary relief. water, and in forty minutes we had cov- however, there grew blueberries and moss ered a distance that had taken us a day berries on some of the moss-covered ridges, on the inland journey. every few mo- which made the diet of fish more palatable. ments we would pass familiar places, scenes pete. stanton. wallace. richards. -- writing letters previous to the separation of the party at lake michikamau. dillon wallace in labrador of some little incident weeks before. montagnais indian; the long, narrow to- “there's where we boiled the kettle,” pete boggan made of tamarack, resting on the would say. “there's where i fell in,” cross poles overhead, and everywhere the laughed stanton. that night we built our black, wavering shadows, that rose and fire by the site of one of our old camps. fell on the rude log walls-all made a pic- the sun was just setting on the hills across ture that one never forgets. when we left the river, and the dark green of the dwarfed the shack next morning, the high moun- spruce stood out in striking contrast against tains that surround seal lake were white the white caribou moss above the timber with snow. this lake is really an expan- line. here and there along the shore the sion of the nascaupee river, which leaves leaves of the gnarled alders showed the reds it at the southeastern extremity. and browns of autumn. to quote from on the inland journey, by following the my diary, “it is a beautiful country- portage route, it had taken us more than when a man has grub and there are no a month to reach seal lake. we had now flies.” provisions that would not last half that as we sat smoking after supper by the time. therefore, we decided to attempt charred embers of the old camp fire, it to follow the river to grand lake. at the seemed very lonely. “do you remember point where the nascaupee leaves seal the bread we had here, and those caribou lake the river is one continuous mass of steaks?” but the last question was al white water, rushing between hills that ways the same, and no one ever answered: rise almost perpendicularly on either side. "i wonder where wallace and easton are the shore is a tumbled mass of huge water- to-night?” worn bowlders, over which we would have on the th of september we had our to portage if we would avoid the rapids, first snow. all day the storm raged on the so we decided to keep to the water. stan- mountains, and in the valley the big flakes ton walked alongshore carrying the flour, floated gently down, like a veil of gauze, now about fifteen pounds. the remainder that dimmed all but very near objects. of the outfit we tied to the thwarts of the when we camped, a lone, gray "whiskey canoe with the tracking line. from the jack” came and perched on a dead branch, shore pete and i had planned our course regarding us expectantly. but we had in the river, but following that course we nothing for him to eat and he flew away. found to be a different matter. there that night the snow ceased, the tea froze were no rocks to avoid, for the water was solid in the pail, and it was cold. one deep; but the light canoe was tossed about evening we reached donald blake's tilt on on the swells like a chip. each time she seal lake, a little log shack not more than came down on the crest of a wave the water eight feet square. it was just beginning poured in over the gunwales. we ran a to snow, so we remained for the night. mile in three minutes, by the watch, and for supper we made soup of a spruce-par- those three minutes were the longest in my tridge, thickening it with a little flour. experience. pete had an original way of preparing a at last as we were passing a shallow partridge for the pot. he never removed place near shore pete jumped out. i fol- the head, and to his mind the feathers lowed, and between us we hauled the evidently contained some nourishment, for canoe, now half full of water, from the he plucked only the longest ones. we grasp of the current. pete's swarthy face had, however, long since grown accus was a dirty yellow color. as for my ap- tomed to soup with feathers in it-and pearance, if i looked as i felt, it must worse things too. in the shack was a have been bad. after continuing down the small tent stove that gave forth a cheerful river more than a day, the banks became warmth. by the dim light from a bit of too abrupt to permit of portaging, the candle stuck in the mouth of a bottle, pete rapids grew worse, and we were finally was baking bread. obliged to retrace our course to seal lake; from the rude rafters hung the traps, portaging the entire distance over the light single spring for marten, heavy double rocks. we made our fire that night by spring for the more powerful otter; the the mouth of the little river where we had large, round beaver-tail snowshoes of the entered the lake nearly two months be- . the outing magazine fore. while pete was making tea, we noticed a gull some distance away on the shore. at that time our only serviceable weapon was a - carbine. stanton stalked that gull with a skill and caution worthy of greater things. how anxiously we watched and waited for the shot. at last it came-and it brought us a supper. one day we killed a muskrat, roasting it indian fashion on a stick before the fire. shortly before reaching the crooked river | was fortunate enough to kill an otter. we allowed him to simmer over night, and although he was very strong, we had two good meals. our last portage. all day a mixture of rain and sleet had been falling, and when we had shouldered our packs, pete, who led the way, did not stop once in the five miles to the river. the last half mile was down a steep hill of clay, wet and slippery. stanton fell, and slid most of the way down, “like an otter,” pete said. the ca- noe we used as a toboggan, letting it down slowly with a rope. our last camp was at duncan mclean's tilt, three miles above grand lake. there we used the last of our flour, salt and tea; we still had part of a can of pemmican, also a porcupine and a muskrat which we wallace (in the bow) and eastman start northward alone. when we reached our old camp at lake had killed on september th, the day nipishish, where duncan mclean had left after reaching the tilt, a heavy wind pre- us, pete played his harmonica for the first vented us from going down grand lake. time since leaving michikamau. it seemed we ate the porcupine, which, without salt, like old times, yet the country was changed. was not very palatable, and passed the the little birches that were green then time reading the advertisements contained were golden-yellow now; and rocks be in cans of baking powder. neath which the trout used to lurk were the succeeding day, the wind having high above the water. it was cold and somewhat abated, we started down the dreary like a december day at home, and lake. a good sea was still running, and as we sat round the fire smoking a mixture stanton was often kept busy with the bail- of tea and tobacco, our backs chilled while ing can. the day was cold, with a steady our faces burned. downfall of rain and snow, and we were late one afternoon we reached the trail soon drenched. several times we landed, leading to the nascaupee river; it was built a fire and drank some hot water in - near i ake michikamau, where dwell solitude and silence. lieu of tea. at noon we divided the last of the pemmican. it was nearly midnight, when, after forty-one miles of paddling, we reached northwest river. everything was dark and still, and there was no sign of life. the row of white buildings loomed up dimly along the board lane leading to the factor's house. then stanton emptied the magazine of his rifle twice in rapid suc- cession. lights sprang up in the build- ings as if by magic; dogs began to howl: men came running with lanterns, and last of all came the factor, who gave us a welcome such as one receives only in labrador. the country a few miles east of seal lake. copyright photograph by charles h. sawyer. "when th' fever's in th' blood"* ain't felt right pert fer a week er two; been sorter cranky an' restless an' blue; no p’tickler reason, es i ken see; can't find enythin' specially wrong wi' me; jes' don't feel frisky an' don't wanter do a goldarn thing thet i don't hev to; food don't taste jes' 'xactly right; sleep is kinder broken up at night; don't wanter set still, an' don't wanter walk; don't wanter keep quiet, an' don't wanter talk; nothin' t' hinder me from doin' jes' th' very thing thet 'll suit me bes”; * this poem has been carried for some years in the pocket of a friend. we shall be grateful if he will share his knowledge with us.—the editor. if the reader knows the author, when th' fever's in th' blood yet when i'm doin' jes' what i wanter to, i find it's jes' what i don't wanter do. now i wonder what's th' matter wi’ me, by thunder? 'tain't fever, sure—fer my heat ain't riz; 'tain't biliousness; ner rheumatiz; 'tain't my head, fer i think right smart; 'tain't my liver, ner yet my heart; 'tain't stomach, ner gout-then goldarn me 'tain't nothin' at all, es i kin see. en yet it's somethin'-guess i'll go an' see th' doctor; he'll sure know. seems t'me i remember this very same thing come on about this same time las' spring; an' th’ doctor doped me with nasty stuff by th' gallon, an' i bought drugs enuff t' start a store; but lordy, they couldn't drive that gnawin' inside away; somethin' jes’ a-gnawin' at my innards—th' same symptoms thet hed when th' las' spring came. gosh! what's th' use o' seein' th' doc? he ain't got nuthin' et all thet 'll knock this here trouble thet allus comes when th’ birds all sing an' th’ honey bee hums, when th’ ice breaks up, an' th’ streams all roar; an' th’soft air blows through th' open door; when th' vi’lets come, an' th' grass blades sprout, an' th’ sun gits warm, an' th’ buds break out; lemme tell you this—when th' world gits green an' a feller gits ornery, restless an' mean, thar ain't no doctor in eny place es kin properly diagnose his case. the on'y cure fer a man i know is t' git right out o'th' town an' go where th' wil ducks swarm an' th’ geese go by, an' th' trout an' bass are a-jumpin' high; th' on’y thing thet 'll cure him then is t' git away from his feller-men, an' loaf all day by some laffin' stream, an' fish an' whistle an’ sing an' dream, an' listen t' birds an’ bugs an' hear th' voice o'th' woods in his eager ear, an' smell th’ flowers, an’ watch th' squirrels, an' cast a fly where th' eddy whirls, an' fergit that there's cities an' houses an’ men. fergit thet he's got ter go back agen. fergit, when on moss-grown bank he's curled, thet thar's enythin' else in th' whole wide world but jes' him, an' th’ birds, an' th' bugs an' things thet live right thar where th’ wild stream sings. i gleedras drawing by j. m. gleeson. the harpy eagle is a native of the forests of south america, and is the most picturesque and least known of eagles. the only one in captivity on this continent is in the zoological gardens at washington. by strength of arms and artie a salmon of the grand codroy by maximilian foster t where was the river, a stretch of mad this was the codroy-the grand codroy, water pitching westward among said artie, and left me. mere scenery he the trees, white where it went rois held in contempt. “will yer honor have tering among the bowlders, and beyond a fish kilt for dinner?” he called anxiously; that a pool, heaving sluggishly and sur “there will be no fresh meat lest ye kill a faced with brown foam and the threads fish.” of working under-currents. high above something arose into the air just then. its chasm reared the newfoundland hills against the wet metallic greens of foliage -hills at a distance of the sheen of crum rimming the pool's oily currents flashed a pled velvet, matchless in their verdant color bar of burnished silver, hung there the tones, but a blighted waste of dwarf coni- winking of an eye, and was gone while the fers matted together by the snows and a spray drops cast from its side still fell like desperate tangle when one set foot among rain beyond. slosb! once heard, a sound them. artie, blithely promising sport, had never to be forgotten! the stirring pool set a way across the heights, and being rearranged itself, the circles widening on to the manner born, had found a path or its breast spread out from bank to bank, made it where another might have failed and one bubble, like an inverted cup of in despair. but sport-sport royal-his crystal, drifted away on the blackness and exultant promises of fish — big fish --- all was gone. yet, with the distinctness of a this and the glamour of scenery waned in finished picture, there still remained in my the utter weariness of toil. dizzy with eye the vision of that shining shape arched the stress of our journey, i followed on, against the deep green background. battling with the pest of flies and ready to “hurroo!” yelled artie; “'twas a fresh cry defeat, while this transplanted child of fish-did ye see the length av him?” hibernian bogs capered upward and on gone the weariness now! gone the last ward with the ease of a mountain roe. vestige of fatigue from the back-breaking for one dollar a day and keep i had cruise among the hills! i can still remem- chartered artie to gaff fish, cook and keep ber with what eager fingers i spliced the camp, and beyond this, was more than long wands of the castle connell, and rove repaid the royalty in the amusement he the line through the guides. one forgets afforded. but just now artie failed to many important happenings of the past, amuse. yet i think i shall never forget this or how “'tis but the bit of a step forrard,” he the dry gut kinked and curled as i strove cried, smiling, and pointed through the to bend on the casting line. and when at trees. “there—there it is!” last i had softened it anew in the spring- the boom of the falls arose out of the hole at the bank, i still remember how the glen. i saw the white mist go dizzying wings of that dashwood curled up under over the tops of the trees, and below that the leader's loop and stubbornly refused sped the river. there it was, sure enough; to go through. they say that more haste and ten minutes later sat by the bank means less speed--the agony of ages sped looking out along the rippling current. by till i had rigged both rod and line, and the outing magazine yet if i had made a botch of it, will not the avail. once again the line flicked out, best of them understand? then to spur and the fly-as softly as a benediction- on haste once again leaped the fresh run fell just where that lazy princeling had fish, gleaming like a sword, and as the risen in his play. close to my elbow stood eddies closed in upon the surging pool, the artie breathing hard, waiting. “ahr- heavy-topped rod swayed outward and the likes av him!—the likes av him! a full sent the line curling loop over loop across thirty pound, i misdoubt!" so passed the oily water. the minutes, and without avail. the cur- now the dashwood is a fly conceived rent, slipping past my eyes, lay unbroken for a purpose. no doubt it resembles i and undisturbed, save once when a red know not what, and its pheasant wing is fish rolled its length above the water, and subtly tied to woo the fickle tastes of its settled down loggishly to the depths below. prey. you will not find it on other waters, foot by foot the fly went swinging across but in these thin, clear streams it does its the pool, searching out its every corner, work—at the appointed times—where that tempting and appealing, but only futile. gaudy courtesan, the jock scott, might artie, sighing deeply, went back to his work its tinsel and bright trappings to a toil, but at the crest of the bank turned ravel and never gain a response. upon with new appeal. the black water the dashwood sank mod “will ye but try him wit' a dose av the est and unassuming, yet with a flash of silver doctor?” he called. "sure, there brightness from its slender under-body, might be the right taste to his fancy in set there for contrast. in the brown cur that!” rent it sank slowly, its wings opening and so, more to please the anxious artie than closing in allurement, keeping time to the from any bewildering hope of luck, the switching of the rod-tip. then a sweep of new fly went on, and with scarce a ripple the current carried it away, and above the of that oily depth pitched down in the roar of the falls i was aware of artie softly center of the pool. creeping toward me, and over my shoulder szrr-ee-eee-rr-ee! giving under the saw his eyes fixed intently upon the pool. strain, the rod bowed willingly, and the "again!" he whispered, when the line reel, lifting its voice to a scream, spoke had swept through its arc and was hanging deeds as the great salmon swarmed down somewhere out there in the water far be upon the fly. then again there flashed low. so, once again, the castle connell's itself a picture on my eye—one moment's top-heavy tip swished and sent the writh vision of a crescent shape alive in its sweep- ing coils flicking across the eddies. one ing curve with strength and animation; moment the straightening coils lay limp the black waters swirled about, and from upon the water; the current caught them, the surface shot the fish, throwing itself and as the rod bowed to the strain a flash headlong into the air and mad with the of light danced before my eyes, the surface sting of the barb settling home. boiled like a caldron, heaved within itself, “got him!” | roared; and rabbiting and once more sank back into a swift and over the bank on all fours came artie, screaming his exultations. “ahr!” cried artie, beneath his breath, “holt tight!” he yelled, rushing to the his whisper coming like a hiss; “did ye brink, and then in the wildness of that see the breadth av him?” moment began crooning to our frantic “rose short," i answered slowly, and visitant. for high into the air flashed the drew the wet coils through the rings. bright shape again, and taking line with five minutes by the watch we waited, him, went splurging down the codroy as all agog with expectancy. if the whole wide sea lay before his en- "put yer fly beyant-beyant the fish!” deavor. "bright heaven!” murmured begged artie; “i'd give the price o' five artie, and i saw him start forward, gaff days' work o' wages to see yer honor tied in hand; "ah-glory be!” once again to him! put yer fly beyant-for the love leaped the fish—the third frantic effort- ay the saints!” and though the stout wand gave to the so, the five minutes passed, i put the struggle, the line, sweeping across the cur- fly beyond, as he begged, and yet without rent, bowed down and wound its bight greasy level. by strength of arms and artie across the edges of the sunken rocks below. shapes, heading the current and swaying one convulsive strain—that was the end of lithely in its movement. while we looked, it; and in limp, unstraining loops the line counting one by one, a gray shadow de- came flying home, while the rod, like a tached itself from the river-bed, and glid- spring of steel, straightened back to its ing upward like a ray of light, broke upon length. that was all. the gaff struck the surface in a mighty splurge. ringing on the rocks, and artie, dejection “fish an' plenty,” murmured artie, written plainly on his face, turned and raising himself, and then, prayerfully: without a word plodded slowly up the "ah-if we had but a taste of blissed rain bank. —the taste av a taycup av rain!” gone! mechanically i drew the line again i put a fly across the pool, waiting through the rings and once more passed for what might follow. home again came a fly back and forth across the pool. but the line, and flinging lash-wise, worked the day, somehow, seemed to have passed. away a little further on. over the hills nor could any fly tempt this first fish or came the sun, pouring down upon the pool, another to leave the black depths below. and in its light. the gray shapes came and one fly following another sailed their way went. to the right and left they arose through those waters, cruising back and out of the depths, circling solitary or in forth, the dashwood first and after that schools, and though many leaped on all a procession - durham ranger -- black sides, flying like bolts out of the unseen dose — fiery brown — butcher — dusty and falling with their all-resounding slosh! miller and what-not-as good as forrest not one ventured upward where the fly lay ever tied; and when the double-handed beating its wings beneath the water. castle connell with a kick in its heels had that day artie's gloom settled itself worn my arms to weariness, night drew into a passive silence. no sound left him, down across the hills, and there was artie's but now and then he whistled, taking a fire blazing cheerily. plaintive air that came keening with mel- ancholy through the bush. dawn came. a milk-white fog lay thick “in heaven's name, artie--stop it!” upon the pool, hanging like a rolling fleece “what's thot-the whustle? sure, thot upon the current-streaked pool. night will be but a habit i borried out av the had brought its counsels to artie, and he lime-juicers.” whistled cheerily in answer to the coffee “the-what?” steaming loudly beside the blaze. “god “bliss ye—the lime-juicers—the deep- save ye!” he cried, grinning like an ape; sea ships. be the same token, if they "when the fog lifts there will be a swate whustle for wint, i'll be whustlin' the while chanst for the doctor. the bacon's for rain-a spate to bring the fish." ready!” so artie whistled on, a melancholy dirge artie, trailing at my heels, swept a hand enough to have made the ringing, deep- toward the pool. "'twill be there," he blue skies that were as hard as steel weep whispered, pointing to where the current for the very sorrow of its plaint. “for broke v-shape above a big rock lying on but a taste of it—a mere taycup av rain," the river's floor. “below that–come wi’ he pleaded; and perhaps after all it was me an' look!" effort that brought it; for that night the he led me along the bank to where a clouds came rolling in from the sea, and huge bowlder lay sprawling upward at a at dawn fell the drops tapping upon the slant, and swarming up its face, bade me leaves. follow. "look!” he said; and pointed "ye'll not gainsay there's fish,” said downward into the depths below. artie, pleading; "there'll be fish an'a the fog had lifted in a streak; and peer- plenty only if they'll rise. the divvil ing down into the pool's shadowy depth, tempt me if it's fairy tales i tolt ye; for we saw a slim gray-green shadow like an there's fish an'a plenty-only for the arrow lying above the stones. there be takin'—an' yer honor's eyes have seen yond it was another-still more-troops; thim lyin' beyant like a flock in the folt." the whole circle of the pool within our view now who could resist his plaintiveness? was peopled with those same half-seen once more we went to work, hastening the outing magazine . while the spate was on, and eager to try it cession of feathered harlequins fluttered while that first inch of rising water was their finery in and out of the codroy nooks; making in the pool. “what fly, artie?” once, toward noon, a gray shape uprose and i asked him, half careless of the answer, sank back passively—and in this exercise for the way the current was boiling down passed that day, the third. twilight be- ward, growing thick as soup at every fresh gan to droop; the long shadows of the trees downpour, it seemed plausible that what trooped across the forest floor, and a bird ever was large enough to see must tempt somewhere in the bush drew from its pipe them, no matter what its color. that, of a note of melancholy that echoed the sor- course, providing they would take any rows of poignant disappointments. "ye'll thing at all. not lave off!” cried artie, sorely, from the "fatherless an' the orphint!” he bank, when i would have stood that mur- screamed from the bank, hooting; "t'row dering top-mast of a castle connell against 'em yer honor's hat-they'll take that as a tree, and called quits on the day. “sure well as better or the dish towel if ye ---don't be quittin'. half dark is the time mind!" for doin'!” so, more to please artie than for any he came toward me, and together we other sufficient reason the silver doctor worked the pool once more-one step for- went on a physician to cure all his woes ward-cast--one step more-cast again. -and as the line straightened out across it had ceased to be a joke, now, whip- the pool, there arose a grilse boiling around lashing the heavy line across its distance; it and went away with the reel screaming and pains, like the sear of hot iron, shot under my fist. through my hands and wrists. “for the we killed that small one in the sluice at honor an' glory av god!” begged artie, the foot of the pool; and artie's language intent and forgetting reverence; “dhrop became unfit for the quiet sanctity of the the fly wanst where the water slicks over woods about us. for, as he said, “what the tail beyant; an' sweep it rount!” was the impidence of this herring-like the castle connell, swishing venom- steppin' in, when his biggers an' betters ously, picked up the strain of the back-cast, was a-waitin'?” and bending like an ash beneath a gale, the spate was on now, and in earnest. swept forward, dropping the fly just where on the steps of the pitch above the flood the water bent glassily as it poured down heaved like billows of umber glass, too into the sluice. one instant the ripples deep to boil with foam, and pouring down spread apart, the line tautened in the ward, drummed over the falls with a deaf rings; and while the rod was still giving ening roar. climbing back along the bank, to that even pull came the answer as if to we began anew at the head of the deeper confound us. water, tried it awhile without response, for from out of the ripping waters of and changed again to the dashwood-the the slide arose the broadsides of a fish, a biggest fly in my book,"as big as the glint of burnished armor shining against fist av ye,” said artie, and worked it down the black background of the torrent. in both banks and the middle. but only the the evening's waning light the flat flank labor rewarded us for our pains-a demon and the length and breadth of this stout of ill-luck dogged us at our heels; and the adventurer were revealed, a shining war- day in all its dreary downpour passed with rior fresh from the salt and unmatched in no other fortune than a brace of paltry bigness and in the power of his onslaught. grilse--the first one, and another that there were no half-way measures in his came home just as the last glim of soggy coming—the water boiled in his train-no daylight snuffed out behind the western dainty lolling to the fly, but a quick and hills. vigorous lunge that brought him wallow- if at first you don't succeed, cries the ing along the surface, furious in the hunt. ballad-monger, sit fast and go at it again. one brief instant he hung there, swarming so, with the encouragement of a wet sun over the fly, and in that instant we took peeking betwixt the tatters of the ragged note of the sharp head bent inward search- storm clouds passing over, we tried it again ing keenly. then the eddies went wheel- on the morrow. all day, that same pro ing down the current; and i heard the + by strength of arms and artie ko de irishman calling passionately on saints on and pray that the humming rod would never entered in the calendar. for our stand it, and line and leader suffer without fish was gone! breaking the killing strain that was put to gone!—not yet! the line was whipping them. “holt fast-holt fast!” he yelled; through the rings, the rod arching from and with that rushed waist-deep into the butt to tip, and at that, with a sudden current and laid about him with the gaff shock, the barb shot home. so that the fish, staggered by this commo- into the air he came, all shining from tion, turned again and went streaking it the narrow head of him to the broad and back to the falls. there he leaped once flexile tail; and with a crash smashed more, but this peril to our cause made only down upon the surface of the pool. there greater the triumph of the fight. the line was rage—blind rage—fright and desper- splitting through the current, the cry of ation all displayed; the reel and the and before the quick play of the spray cast upward bowing rod-all in that first leap this and the plung- had fallen, again ing of the fish as he leaped, hurling it fought into the himself sidelong air for its freedom, from the water. worked their part; for us—against all and the irishman, this terror of the falling back to my wild thing—for us elbow, gasped with there was the play- excitement, still scene of all our calling in pity upon hopes come at last the names of his in- upon the boards; terminable saints. and who could for thus far our blame if that wild fish had taken full irishman ran charge of the shop. screaming along once more, as he the bank, a figure struck the foam of madness caper- beneath the falls, ing inanely; or that he flung himself i followed, heed- straight into the less, alive only to air, but that was the screech of the the last of it for a reel and the throb- while. with the bing of the rod as current behind the frenzied thing him, he started hunted escape in back for the sluice; every corner of the and with what i pool ? “there lay the fish, just beyond his reach." had seen of that by one wild race water below the after another he gained the head of the pool, it seemed certain that once over pool, and there the gushing water quick- the brink he would return to the sea, ened him. flipping once into the air, he perhaps with as fine an assortment of turned and came racing downward, coast salmon rig as ever went down the codroy ing the shallows so closely that a furrow unattached. so artie thought, too; and trailed high in his wake. beyond was bade me hold on again as much as a man the sluice he was aiming for; and once might dare and still have hope for his rig- within its rush it would have meant only ging. sliding through the pool the fish adieu to fish and what part of the tackle kept on, and the time had come, it seemed, he saw fit to take away with him. but when all the king's horses and all the artie, with goat-like bounds, was there be king's men would not have held him from fore him, yelling to me that could only hang his will. the castle connell creaked in all hyos watson the outing magazine its lashings, and the line, set like the wire ously and the line, like a wire, hummed in of a harp, hissed as it stemmed the cur the current, everything held, and the dead rent--no longer human dexterity might weight lying there somewhere in the depths help, but any man's game of pull-devil , gave, and inch by inch came drifting toward pull-baker. gathering way, the fish start the surface. once the gray shape showed ed for the sluice, fighting doggedly and itself, and then sheered away into the snatching at the line like a terrier worry blackness; night was almost at hand, and ing its leash. “holt him, yer honor!” as we stood there, straining our eyes for cried artie, desperately striving to get another glimpse, up he came and rolled below the fish; and hold i did until the upon the surface. rod cried and the water fell weeping from “be the powers!” cried artie; "the size the over-straight line. but artie got there av him!” first, still wildly waving his arms and legs, "steady!” | yelled the warning to him, and struck savagely at our prize with the but might as well have cried it to the winds. gaff. thus --- somehow - he managed to there lay the fish, still playing doggedly shoo the fish back into safer waters; and in small circles and just beyond his reach. while i am not so sure that this was sport, tiptoeing on the edge of the rock, he was i am reasonably certain of its necessity. reaching for it, the steel hook striking far “back ye go, my laddy buck!' yelled short of the mark, and at any moment artie; and drove him into deeper water. likely to cut the straining line. "steady!" then came a bitter time; for the fish, i roared, and strove to drag the prize within as if sulking in defeat, settled loggishly to reach. but "stiddy — the divvil!” he the bottom gravel, and began chugging at yelled back at me; i'm dead an' speech- the line. nor could any strain put upon less wit' patience o'stiddiness!" him keep him from this trick. artie, the next instant, with a flying leap, he shaking the water from his clothes, armed had left me; and i was treated then to the himself with rocks, some the size of his fist spectacle of artie-hat, shoes, clothes and and others the bigness of his head, and for all-ianding in the center of the foam, and a while he played ducks and drakes with at the end of that flight, making one des- our salmon; but not until the irishman perate claw at the fish with his gaff. had dropped a slab as large as a platter he got him, too. there was a brief and somewhere in his near neighborhood would desperate flurry in the center of the boiling he deign to move. then with another rush waters, and then artie and fish were whirled he was back to the head of the pool, where, away. something cracked just then-my for a harrowing fifteen minutes, the two of rod, as i found out later-and the line us stood over him while he plunged about came back to me, flying limply in my face. in circles deep down in the foam. but somewhere out there was artie, and “i'm dizzy-like,' said artie; "he'll twist with him the salmon that had come up off the head av ye like a hoot owl!” from the sea. or so it seemed. we held council of is this done on salmon, waters? i had war upon the rock above him. “pump never seen it before. like an otter or a the daylights out av him," said artie, naiad-take your choice beheld him "pump him till he shows. wanst give me arise dripping out of the codroy, and haul glimpse av him—but wanst!" himself over the rocks. there at his knee, so, for want of better plan, the work slapping him on the legs, was our fish, and began to “pump” our fish from the depths when he had laid it upon the stones up- upward. shore, he turned and shook the water from not sport, perhaps, but necessity. it him like a spaniel. was cruel work-toil like unto that of the "sure, yer honor," he said plaintively, dredgerman. yet though the rod bent "ye took a divvil of a chanst to lose him. itself till the lashings again creaked omin i could not be waitin' longer." - our imported pests weed tramps of the vegetable kingdom-the gypsy moth a national menace by clifton johnson w hen one considers how many berries which are eaten by birds, and as foreign pests there are with which most hard seeds are not digested by the we have to contend, it is easy to birds they are dropped here and there, fancy that in the days of the aborigines our often a considerable distance from the country lacked little of being a paradise. parent plant. also, many seeds eaten by certainly the new world wilderness was in horses and cattle are not impaired, and many ways most gentle and friendly, and thus find new abodes. our waterways, every venturous soul across the seas felt too, carry vast numbers of floating seeds its spell. that such should think they to regions which otherwise might long be could better their condition by transfer free from them. ring their homes hither is no wonder; in massachusetts it is estimated that but they did not altogether accomplish fully two hundred and fifty weeds foreign their purpose; for they brought their trou to the region have become firmly estab- bles with them. the old world weeds, lished. as many more have obtained a vermin, predatory birds and insects fol foothold, and some of these may at any lowed in the settlers' wake, and multiplied time find conditions right to spread widely and devoured and usurped the land be and become pests of the most virulent type. yond anything ever evolved by the country what is true of massachusetts is true of itself. all our older states, and to some degree of these pests seem to be an inevitable every state. accompaniment of civilization. see how strangely enough, scarcely any of our the weeds dog the white man's footsteps. native weeds are especially troublesome. wherever he establishes himself there they they have very little of the defiant vigor go also, and are soon thronging around his of the foreign weeds, and for the most part buildings and doing their best to choke out are so shy that they go into hiding at man's his crops in the garden and fields. the coming. but the pests from abroad are farmer is the weeds' enemy, and yet he is unconquerable, and what a list there is of at the same time their chief helper. he them! they abound in our dooryards and clears away the trees, lets in the sunlight, along our waysides and in our gardens and and prepares the soil for them, and he fields and pastures. the plantain which aids them vastly in disseminating their springs up so sturdily in our lawns and seeds, which are always on the alert for a beside our paths is european. so is the chance to travel. indeed, weeds are vege hairy, narrow-leaved plantain or ribwort table tramps, and they are on the move that infests the grass lands. the dande- along every highway. the seeds are con lion is another imported pest; beautiful stantly getting free rides on trains and and interesting, it is true, but multiplying wagons, on animals' fur or wool, and on inordinately and sowing its winged seeds human clothing. they care not whither each year over the entire face of the coun- they go, if only they go somewhere. ev- try. ery wind of summer and autumn helps the some of the other importations have in seeds on their journeys. many plants have common with the dandelion an attractive- the outing magazine ness we could ill spare in spite of the trouble gether into rude little baskets and “birds' they give us. there is the ox-eye daisy, nests.” for instance. the gold-centered, snowy the curled-leaf docks and other docks petaled disks are a delight to the eyes; and in our mowing that are most prolific and yet to the farmer their aspect must be de- annoying are european. so is the rag- cidedly pernicious when he sees acre after ged, uncomely black mustard. across the acre of his mowing overrun with them. ocean this mustard is extensively culti- in rhode island these daisies were intro vated, and its ground seeds form the well- duced and raised for horse feed about ; known condiment. it is also sown for for- but they had gained a foothold in some age and cut before ripe and fed; but here sections of the country long previous. nor it is a troublesome weed. would we wish to spare the meadow-sweet, the canada thistle came originally from whose white flower spires crowning the over the seas. now its prickly masses long woody stems brighten our pastures are everywhere — along the roadsides, in and the wild tangles along the fences. the pastures and in the cultivated fields. another flower that would be missed is wherever it appears it comes to stay; for the yarrow. probably this was first intro it has creeping, fleshy roots that are con- duced for its medicinal properties; for yar- stantly sending up new plants, and its row tea has had a very wide repute among plumed seeds are widely scattered by the the common people. it did not long stay winds. none of our weeds is more diffi- within bounds, but betook itself to the cult to eradicate. of course the scythe, fields and roadsides. or the plow and hoe, if kept to the work, many others of our "peskiest " weeds are will finally conquer; but the most effective likewise garden fugitives. among such method is to put on leather gloves and are the wild parsnip and the wild carrot. pull up every plant that thrusts above the the former turns some of the half-neglected surface. even then you cannot hope to spring fields to gold, and the latter snows kill the pest in less than two seasons. over a vast deal of grass land in the late still more serious is what is called the summer and early autumn. the parsnip russian thistle, though not really a thistle is a degenerate of the plant we cultivate at all. this has overspread a vast amount for eating, but the carrot was brought of territory in the upper mississippi valley across the ocean for its ornamental qual- with its big, branching, thorny plants. it ities; and truly the cobwebby, flat-topped was introduced into south dakota about flower clusters spraying the green fields and in flaxseed from russia. the rapid- roadsides are very charming. ity of its spread and the thoroughness of on the other hand, some of the imported infection far exceed that of any weed known weeds are decidedly ugly in appearance. in america. it takes possession of waste there is, for example, the cocklebur from lands to the exclusion of all other plants; tropical america, that flourishes along our it is a destructive weed in the grain crops, waterways, and which in certain parts of and the sharp spines are an irritation to the country is a pest in the cornfields. we both men and horses working where it might well get along without this big, grows. in russia there are large areas coarse plant with its spiny, hooked burs near the caspian sea where the cultiva- that so easily detach after they ripen when tion of the land has been abandoned be- one brushes them with one's clothing. a cause of it. each plant forms a dense, similar pest is the rank, ill-scented james- brushy mass, often four or five feet high. town weed, commonly called jimson weed. in november, when the plant dies, the wind this found an affinity for our climate very breaks it off near the ground and it is blown early, and was so associated with civiliza about as a tumble weed, scattering seeds tion that the indians called it "the white wherever it goes. it may roll all winter man's plant.” burdock is still another and retain some seed till spring. the dam- big, coarse plant from abroad. you see age it has done our grain already runs well its clusters of broad, gray leaves in abun up into the millions of dollars. dance along every dusty roadside. its only an imported scourge that is becoming friends are the children, who like to pick more and more common in the east is the the bristly blossoms and stick them to hawkweed. in blossom time, when it is our imported pests ablaze with its brilliant orange and yel come with importations of commercial low flowers, it is very handsome. one of seeds, sometimes are introduced with nur- its popular names is the “devil's paint sery stock, sometimes are in the fleeces of brush, and this is well merited, both by sheep and goats, or the hides of animals, reason of its fiery colors and because it is brought from abroad. hay, too, furnishes such a serious annoyance to the farmer. an excellent medium-not only the baled among the commonest of our garden hay, but that which is used for packing and field weeds are shepherd's purse, chick crockery and glassware. again, plants weed, sheep sorrel, purslane and quick are imported for beauty of blossoms or grass, every one of them european. the foliage, or because they have food value, shepherd's purse is so persistent in appro and presently they escape from cultivation. priating land intended for other purposes thus our purslane was brought from eng- that it has won the nickname of “pick- land in and cultivated for greens. pocket,” and this name might nearly as likewise, our ailanthus tree, much planted well be applied to the rest of the list. the in towns, was brought from china on ac- chickweed prefers ground that is shady and count of its virtues as a shade tree. the damp; but it is quite capable of overrun- long pennate leaves are indeed handsome, ning with its thick matting all our garden and the appearance of the tree attractive; soil, wet or dry. the sorrel frequently al but in villages and on the farms it is a most monopolizes certain tracts of ground, nuisance. the blossoms are offensive in spreading both by rootlets and seeds, and odor, the sap sticky and disagreeable, and reddening the fields where it abounds with the tree multiplies by seeds and root stalks its tawny blossoms. the purslane or "pus- beyond the power of most property owners ley," as it is commonly called, promptly to control. many a person who has bought makes its appearance every midsummer the ailanthus from the nursery stock agent in the cultivated grounds, and grows mar- as the “tree of heaven," has found it a velously. it takes but a few days, if neg veritable tree of hades. lected, for the low, fleshy, wide-spreading still another instance of foreign beauty, plants to cover the earth out of sight. nor which, brought here, has proved a plague will an ordinary uprooting kill it. there to us, is furnished by the water hyacinth. is so much stored moisture and vigor in its this was imported from south america to stout branches that it can usually make a the st. john's river in florida as an addi- shift to survive until its roots get a fresh tion to the stream's charm. it grows in grip. the expression, “as mean as pus water without attaching itself to the bot- ley,” shows the farmer's sentiments with tom, and the rosettes formed by the leaves regard to it. worse still is the quick grass. sometimes rise two feet above the surface. this has many other names, such as witch, the plants increase amazingly in number twitch, quack and couch. well down out and accumulate in great masses along the of sight it elaborates a tangle of long, run shores. frequently they form obstruc- ning, jointed root stalks that are most tena tions extending entirely across the river, cious of life, and every separate joint is through which not even paddle steamers capable of sustaining existence on its own can penetrate. account and thrusting up a green shoot as with the weeds, so with the lesser ani- to the air. in england the peasantry go mals: the worst of them are imported. over the plowed ground with forks and our american rat is in the woods and pick out the roots, pile them up and burn rarely seen, and our native mouse is hardly them. here we do not take that trouble, less shy; but the european rats and mice but keep up an endless and often losing are with us indoors and out in ravenous fight all summer. hordes. another familiar field pest is the pig how inoffensive, too, are our native weed or amaranth. both varieties, the birds as compared with the english spar- smooth and the rough, have come to us rows. what persistent, prolific creatures from tropical america. these sparrows are. you can destroy their just how the individual weeds get here nests, you can poison them and wage war is not usually known with certainty. the on them in any way you please, and yet ways are many. sometimes the seeds they continue to thrive. between the outing magazine and importations were made from islands. yet, as an offset to the evil time to time to about a dozen of our east- charged against it, we must credit it with ern cities. usually the birds came a few being a greedy consumer of insects. per- pairs at a shipment, but there was one lot haps its worst fault is the assistance it of a thousand liberated in philadelphia. gives to the spread of the lantana shrub, since these beginnings the sparrows have which was brought to the islands in rapidly spread until now no portion of our by some one who was attracted by its domain is free from them. they were pretty blossoms. the berries proved to be brought originally to fatten on the insects very much to the liking of the minas, and which preyed on our city shade trees, but by them the seeds have been distributed their taste was for food of another sort. broadcast over much of the island territory. "i remember," said john burroughs to in places on the mountains the lantana me recently, “that i first saw the english forms impenetrable thickets, and when it sparrows in jersey city about . they once gets possession of pasture land it is were scratching around in the streets, and very expensive to exterminate. i said to myself, what in thunder are a mistake similar to that we have made those birds?' soon they were in wash in our importations of birds is the intro- ington, where i was then living, and i duction of foreign fish to our watercourses. noticed a boy one day with a sling shoot it would have been much better to have ing them. i wanted to call the police. left the german carp in their native coun- 'they'll be exterminated,' i thought, and try. their coarse, sweetish flesh is far that'll be too bad.' but i didn't know from good eating,* and they crowd out them. a few years ago a friend of mine more desirable fish. thus, in the hudson, shot sixty sparrows one after the other they root around and eat the shad spawn, from a single nest, and the survivor of the and while the carp increase, the shad pair always found a mate. as the shoot become fewer and fewer. similarly, the ing continued the birds got cautious, and german trout, though they multiply and would skedaddle as soon as they saw him; thrive in our mountain streams, drive out but they finally raised a brood in the nest. our own trout, which are decidedly more the sparrows do not now seem as threat delicate and palatable. all fish are can- ening a nuisance as they did at first. na nibals, and our fish are simply devoured ture has furnished checks, and there are by these hardy foreigners. probably less of the sparrows than there we have always had insect pests from were a decade or two ago. they are es the days of the first settlers. the new sentially a town bird. the country does england pioneers found native insects to not furnish sufficient food in winter and is contend with when they arrived, and the too cold. they are seed eaters, and the seasons of and were put on droppings of grain-fed town horses have record as “caterpillar years." but our been their chief dependence. with the most threatening foes have been imported. introduction of electric cars and automo one of the worst is the san josé scale, in- biles this source of food has been diminished troduced into california about . it and has tended to cut off the sparrows. has since spread to practically every state then, too, the hawks have come to under in the union, killing nursery stock, fruit stand them, and now often hover around trees and even shade trees of large size. the cities in winter to pick them up. yet so comparatively harmless was it in our climate is our chief safeguard against its native environment that several dec- pests of this sort. indeed, it is so trying to ades passed before we learned authorita- the wild creatures that the chances of our tively that it came from china. its in- having such invasions as have occurred in crease at home was doubtless restricted australia are very small. by certain parasites; but our importations another bird we would do well to be on did not include the beneficial agents. our guard against is the mina, a native of at least two imported pests make serious india. it is vigorous and prolific, a poor inroads on our cotton crop. one of these, songster, drives away other birds, and is fond of small fruits. it has been intro * approximately forty million pounds of this fish duced into hawaii and has overrun the are marketed, of which eight millions are used in new york city -editor. our imported pests er. the cotton bollworm, or southern army the new leafage of the pear trees. it worm as it is sometimes called, came to proved to be the larvæ of the brown-tail us from south america and began to be moth, one of the most notable and ancient troublesome more than a century ago. of the old world pests. investigation the damage it does averages over ten showed that it was imported on rosebushes million dollars annually. during a season brought from holland. the first outbreak there are from four to seven generations covered only a few square miles, but it produced; but it is the broods of late sum yielded a swarm of moths which were dis- mer that are the most numerous and vo tributed over a wide territory by a gale racious. the caterpillars then hatch in that chanced to blow while they were fly- such multitudes that they defoliate whole ing. since then the pest has gone over a fields in three days, and then swarm else large section of new england. the moths where in search of more food. show a preference for pear trees; but apple, a still worse nightmare is the boll weevil, elm, wild cherry and white oak are also which has within a few years come into very commonly infested, and other trees texas from mexico. it has already in suffer to some extent. the eggs, laid in vaded one third of our entire cotton-raising july, hatch the following month, and the area, and it does twice the damage in dol young caterpillars, feeding in a mass, soon lars that the bollworm does. the weevil begin spinning their winter web. the web is a little bug with a long snout that it uses spinning consists of drawing together a in eating a cavity into the fruit of the number of leaves and fastening them in a plant. in this cavity an egg is deposited close cluster with tenacious silken strands. which soon becomes a grub. the grub in this domicile the caterpillars, about one- begins eating, and the cotton boll is ruined fourth grown, spend the winter and emerge and later falls off. as in the case of the with the first spring leafage. as soon as bollworm, there are several generations in one tree is stripped they march to anoth- a season. with both these pests the most besides the damage to the trees, they effective remedy is to mature the crop make themselves exceptionally disagreeable early. by early planting of early varieties by the power their hairs have to produce and by the stimulus of fertilizers and fre a severe and painful nettling when they quent cultivation, most of the crop can come in contact with human flesh. some be made safe before the pests are numerous people are affected more than others, and enough to do serious damage. but with there have been cases of serious illness the rather easy-going farming habits of the from this cause. the hairs apparently are south, most planters will probably long not poisonous, but very brittle, and ev- continue to take their chances, and the ery hair has many barbs along the sides. ruin will continue. whether one comes in contact with a cat- when the elm tree beetles arrived on erpillar or with hairs blown by the wind, our shores from their native europe, and the flesh is easily pierced and the hairs we saw the leaves of our great trees full of get broken up and are extremely irritating. holes as if riddled with small shot, we were the brown-tail moth seems destined to ready to say, "good-by, elms.” many give serious trouble over a large portion of schemes were evolved for fighting the the country, and whoever finds it in his beetles, good, bad and indifferent. one neighborhood should understand that the man sold a remedy which consisted of cer simplest and cheapest way to combat it is tain poisonous salts that were put in a hole to cut off and burn the winter webs. in bored in the tree trunk. the poison was germany, france and belgium the law expected to rise with the sap to the leaves compels property owners to do this; and if and kill the beetles and larvæ that fed on they neglect the work, it is done by the the foliage. the most effective treatment local authorities and the expense added to was spraying; but nature presently de their tax levy. veloped some enemy or distemper, and the in many respects the most threatening beetles to a large extent disappeared. of all our imported pests is the gypsy moth, in the spring of several residents in fighting which the state of massachu- of somerville and cambridge, massachu setts has expended one million dollars. it setts, found a strange caterpillar feeding on was brought to this country about the outing magazine by prof. leopold trouvelot, who hoped to they eat bare both the coniferous and cross-breed it with the silkworm and make deciduous trees, with perfect impartial- the latter more hardy. he was living at ity, and the former die as the result of medford, massachusetts, only a few miles a single defoliation. the deciduous trees from where that other scarcely less serious put forth fresh leafage after the cater- pest, the brown-tail moth, was introduced. pillars have finished their summer eat- his specimens were on a bush in the yard, ing; but this fails to nourish the twigs which was carefully enveloped in fly netting properly and make new, mature wood. but one night a high wind tore the netting, the trees are weakened, the attacks of and some of the prisoners escaped to near-by bark beetles and borers invited, and few woodland. they soon became acclimated trees will survive stripping three years in and multiplied, and by the plague succession. of the caterpillars had become notorious. fortunately the female moths do not in the state began work against the fly, and this has a tendency to prevent the insect, and this work was continued for rapid spread of the pest. yet its diffusion ten years. by that time the number of is not dependent on the few rods the cater- moths had been very much decreased, and pillars may crawl. they have a habit of the damage wrought by them was com spinning down from the trees, and often paratively light. those in charge of the catch on the clothing of persons walking work claimed that if the fight was con beneath, or on trains, automobiles and tinued for a series of years with sufficient electric cars. thus they are often trans- but decreasing appropriations, they could planted considerable distances. utterly exterminate the pest. the legis- instance, at least, the pest is believed to lature, however, would not spend more, have been carried to a new region inten- and since then the moths have increased tionally. it is understood that the pro- and spread till the most that can be hoped genitors of the colony now devastating the is to keep them from going farther and parks in providence, rhode island, were to mitigate the evil in the regions already brought thither by a moth fighter who infested. adopted this method of revenging himself . undoubtedly the creatures are a national for being discharged by those in charge of menace, and an appeal for aid has been the suppression of the moth. made to the government at washington; in combating the moth, effective work but the limits of the plague are at present is done by searching out the egg clusters so local that the aid was not granted, and in the fall, winter or spring and dabbing the state has again taken up the work. them with a brush dipped in creosote. at the same time very large sun.s are be when the caterpillar time approaches, the ing expended by municipalities and pri- infested trees are banded loosely with strips vate citizens. the caterpillars are most om of burlap. under these strips the cater- nivorous and indiscriminate feeders, and pillars gather in the early morning and can they will go through the orchards and then be destroyed by hand. spraying and woodlands and strip almost every tree. other special methods are also used. va- they have their preferences, but they are rious insects, parasites and birds prey on not at all insistent. sometimes they at the caterpillars and moths; but thus far no tack garden vegetables, flowers and shrubs, enemy has developed to prevent the rav- but this seems to be the result of chance enous hordes from increasing. not only forays, where tree foliage has failed, and do they lay bare and kill the trees, but they such damage has been and probably will invade the houses, and property owners be very limited. where the pest is well established are al- there have been times in the past when most in despair. i suppose nature in the the gypsy moth caterpillars have done long run may be depended on to suppress very disastrous work over vast areas in or mitigate the, plague; but nature has europe. they are a real calamity wher- plenty of time she is never in a hurry; ever they appear in force; for unless they and meanwhile there is no knowing what can be routed the woodland is doomed. mankind may suffer. the builders by ralph d. paine photographs by the author chapter ii the last of the open range he nogales oasis of a recent date con- tained this para- graph, which may t be called an ari- zona obituary: “the round-up in the oro blanco country last week was like a funeral procession. even the horses knew there was something wrong, and went about their work with a shameless lack of spirit. occasionally an outlaw cayuse would throw up his head and emit a loud horse laugh. men who for years had ridden the range with the dash of centaurs and a bearing of defiance to all the world, sat as still and stiff in their saddles as mutton-chopped britishers, and with faces as solemn. for there was not a gun or a holster in the out- fit. the edict had gone forth that round- ups would hereafter be regarded as public gatherings, and the law of arizona forbids the carrying of weapons at 'public gath- been invaded and filled with a new pros- perity by the prosaic farmer, the manu- facturer, and the small rancher. the era when half a million long-horned cattle drifted north every year to the da- kotas and montana, convoyed by an army of the finest horsemen the world ever saw, was long ago wiped out by the railroad. the time when the texas steer roamed as free as the buffalo, and the men who rode with him knew no law nor boundaries save those of their own making, will never come again. they belonged with the ear- liest stage of civilization. it was inevitable that on the heels of the nomad, pastoral age of this country's growth should follow the agricultural. but it is not true that the open range has wholly vanished. its life still runs wide and free. the heroic bigness of it, however, is to be sought no longer in the southwest, where the cowboy has been most often framed in story. he is making his last stand in northern montana. if you lay a ruler across the map of montana, east and west, from fort buford to fort benton, it will not cross a town in a line three hundred miles long. if you run the line north and south, say midway between malta and glasgow, from up on the ca- nadian boundary down almost to the yel- lowstone, a stretch of a hundred and fifty miles will be covered without finding a settlement big enough to deserve a dot and a name on the map. this is, roughly speaking, the country of the last great open range in the united states. its area is greater than the com- bined extent of connecticut, massachu- setts, new hampshire, vermont, new jer- sey and delaware. it is not so thickly populated that men are in danger of jos- tling one another. erings." such signs of the times confirm the com- mon impression that the cow man of the open range" is a part of a picturesque american past, a lost hero with a vanished occupation. it is true that in the south- west the barbed-wire fence has almost wiped out the characteristic life of the old “cow outfit.” the empire of texas is already checkered with grazing ranches, some of them hundreds of thousands of acres in area, but nevertheless they are pastures, privately bounded and owned. and the cattle towns of texas, arizona, kansas and the "indian nations" have the outing magazine it includes, for example, dawson county, their own bunches of cattle, and to stock which is bigger than the state of maryland. small ranches scattered here and there on there are two million people in maryland; both sides of the missouri. some of them there are twenty-five hundred in dawson were even making desultory studies of the county, montana. while one hundred and hitherto despised agricultural outlook for sixty persons inhabit the average square an honest man unafraid of toil. others mile of maryland, every man, woman and were planning to return to their native child in dawson county has five square texas, and with their old employers look miles. after the modern steer that is “raised by valley county covers more real estate hand” in a pasture and wintered on hay than connecticut and massachusetts. the and alfalfa. two new england states have about four it was indeed a meeting of old trails and million population. valley county holds new, a cross-section of america in the mak- the magnificent total of forty-five hundred ing even more sharply contrasting than the people, including an indian reservation in panorama of the north dakota prairie, as which you could lose the state of delaware. described in the opening article of the three things have kept this range open series of “the builders.” into the twentieth century: the climate, the history of the northern range throws the grass and the lack of population. but back to the end of the civil war, when the the climate and the soil, which supplies the plains of texas were covered with millions finest grazing in the world, are the factors of cattle for which there was no outlet to that are bringing so swift a tide of popu market. the rapid settlement of the mid- lation into this country that the finish of dle west created a demand for these texas the old-time cattle man and his methods herds, and a trail was opened into kansas. is plainly in sight. even now he is mak besides finding a new market, it was dis- ing ready to quit. within the next three covered that southern cattle wintered in or four years the surviving "outfits” will the country to the northward gained in have shipped their last cattle to market weight and fatness at an amazing rate. from the open range of northern montana. nature favored breeding in texas, where the march of civilization which overtook in good seasons almost every cow had her them in the southwest was delayed a few calf, but beef cattle grew lean and rangy. more years up in the north, but its van therefore they were sent north to fatten, guard is closing in from all sides. the and the trail of the texas cowboy gradu- final “clean-up” is now in progress. ally extended up into montana and the i counted myself as rarely fortunate in dakotas. being able to witness both the old and the he found a country favored above all new conditions as spread out side by side. others for making big, fine cattle of his on the one hand were the wagons of the angular texas steers. the buffalo had round-up camp and the white dust clouds learned this centuries before, when it chose that marked the "cutting" of the herds; this area for its winter and summer pas- on the other a meeting of farmers to discuss ture. as the buffalo dwindled the cattle with the engineers of the government rec- increased, until in the greatest year of lamation service irrigation plans whereby the “drive” nearly a million cattle were scores of thousands of acres of grazing land moved across country from texas, and were to be watered and planted in hay, with them went four thousand men and wheat and alfalfa. thirty thousand horses. the dusty, sweating cowboys, picked this was in , by which time the survivors of the lost legion, some of them buffalo had vanished from the range. its looking back to a quarter century of life bones were being gathered and shipped on the open ranges, were being driven from for fertilizer by the carload. it has been their last battle ground by the plodding estimated that before the bones of farmer in overalls and straw hat who pre seven million buffalo had been shipped ferred raising grain to raising hell. from points in north dakota alone. the the "cow punchers” were reading the range was swept clean for the cattle man. handwriting on the wall. those of a pru the indians were rounded up on reser- dent habit of mind had begun to pick up vations. the settler has steered clear of the builders these vast northern plains, which were find another railroad to the northward was believed to be too arid for farming. but to ride a hundred and fifty miles to the the buffalo grass and the blue-joint sup canadian pacific; to find a railroad to plied not only rich grazing in summer, but the southward meant as long a ride to standing hay cured by nature that sus the northern pacific. on the edge of the tained cattle on the range through the town a freighters' outfit was making ready blizzard-swept winters. to pull out four days to a camp near the as the railroad crept north and south, little rockies. ten horses led the string the texas outfits trailed part of the north of laden wagons, behind which trailed the ward journey and shipped their steers over covered chuck-wagon, equipped for sleep- the remainder of the distance. year by ing and cooking, for there were no hotels on year as the trail shortened and the railroads this route. extended, the "drive" dwindled, until the the boss and his two helpers were wres- steel highway stretched from texas to bil tling with a broncho which, until this ill- lings, montana. but the cattle continued fated day, had never felt a harness across to stream north by the all-rail route, and his back. he was needed as an off-wheeler, this movement has been in full tide for and he had to go. he fought like a hero more than fifteen years. from thirty to possessed of seven devils, and three men fifty thousand cattle of one brand were toiled for an hour to get him into the traces thus transplanted to be “finished off” for and to keep clear from his infernally active market on the montana range. heels. north dakota has become covered with at length his nine comrades jumped wheat, which has steadily moved westward, into their collars, and the rebel simply had eating more and more into the open range. to go with them. he lay down and was already the wheat has spread a hundred dragged on his ear until his addled wits miles west beyond the climatic limit as perceived there was nothing in this sort of signed it ten years ago, and now irrigation mutiny. he rose and slid stiff-legged has joined forces with “dry land farming.” until, outnumbered, outvoted and out- another reason for the downfall of the generaled, he surged into the collar like a "cow man” in montana was his own short thunderbolt and thereafter tried to pull sightedness in failing to safeguard his fu- the whole load, in the vain hope of tearing ture. his herds must have water, and the something out by the roots. range is useless without it. the outposts the long string of horses and wagons of the farming and ranching invasion got wound out into the open country, and in a possession of the springs and water holes, little while dipped across a grassy undu- by purchase and homestead right. lation and was gone. a swirl of dust but away with these epitaphs and this marked its progress for several miles,—this death-chant of the cow puncher! he was plodding caravan, with its tanned and still on the montana range in all his glory bearded men, unlettered and slow of last autumn, and there is work for him speech, used to living out under the sky, to do before he has rounded up his last seeing few of their kind. it was thus the beef herd in this fenceless land of billowing pioneers crossed the plains a half century plain, butte and mountain, in the crys ago. talline air of this illimitable out-of-doors. akin to this episode in its portrayal of three big outfits, a dozen to twenty men conditions which are all but crowded out to a camp, were slowly working in from of this twentieth century, was the aspect the little rockies, when a great north of the plain that rolled sheer to the horizon ern express dropped me off at malta, a from another side of malta. fogged in famous old cow town, which is still busy white alkali dust, five thousand cattle were and occasionally even tempestuous. so eddying and drifting into scattered herds. simple an act as swinging off the platform they were not grazing at random. along of a sleeping car was to step into a dif the fringes of the piebald masses mounted ferent world of men and conditions from men were outlined at rest on the crest of the that left behind. rising ground, or racing headlong into the on all sides of the little town lay the dust clouds. glorious sweep of untamed country. to what looked like confusion was system, the outing magazine skill and daring. nearer vision showed the version had passed. but in his impetuous cow punchers at work "cutting" the cattle manner and his reckless riding there was for shipment. they were in the midst the flavor of the ruder time that bred him of the fall round-up. as with a drag-net, and his kind. plain and coulee and butte and river of a sterling type, but less flamboyant, bottom had been swept within a hundred was the dark-visaged, black-mustached mile radius to sift out and bring in the foreman of the milner outfit, “bill” jay- steers that were ready for market. cox, than whom you must travel far to fat and sleek and “rollicky” from the find a better cow man. before some of summer's grazing, the cattle were hard to the precocious wizards of finance who dwell handle. it was a field for the display of in eastern sky-scrapers were weaned, he the craft of man and horse. these were was outfiting pack trains for troopers of no farmers transformed into cow hands by uncle sam, who were fighting indians in the gift of a rope and a pair of “chaps.” the bad lands and along the missouri. almost every man had been bred in the he used to break in and outfit the creaking business from boyhood. a big steer bolted trains of bull-carts that trailed out of fort from the ruck, and shot across the prairie, benton when it was the city of the north- tail in air. there streaked after him, hell west, and the head of navigation on the for-leather, a wizened man half lost in a missouri. he rode the trail with herds of pair of “chaps” with the fur on. he wore texas cattle moving to the northern range a pair of goggles and a little beard which ahead of the railroad. he has a wife and was white, not all with dust. old, but babies and a ranch tucked away in a smil- spare and sinewy, riding his cow-pony like ing montana valley, and he will be ready a wild indian, he might have stood for a to quit the range “when the range quits picture of “the last of the cowboys.” him." the runaway steer could not move quick “bill” jaycox and his comrades are of a enough to dodge the wise pony and the kind bred wholly by american conditions, dare-devil rider. when the fugitive had whose like will not happen often on the been turned after a breathless chase, the farms and in the cities that will cover the old man galloped back to search out an ranges they rode. such old-time cow men other steer with his brand on its flank some as these are vanishing exemplars of the where in the smother of cattle and dust. gospel of elemental manhood, standing on he pulled up to wipe his goggles, and the its two feet, wholly apart from the com- wrinkled parchment of his swarthy cheek plex scheme of existence which hems in its confirmed the surmise that he was a vet neighbors. the destiny of the farmer is eran of the veterans. coupled with the factories that turn out "i guess you won't find 'em riding much his tilling and harvesting machinery. the older than me," he said. “most all the sailor is helpless without steam in the boil- old-timers on the range knows doc thomp ers, and firemen and engineers in the hold. son. i began punching cattle in ’ and but give the cowboy his horse, his saddle, i'm still hard at it. i'm too old to learn his slicker, his rope and his six-shooter, and a new trade. when this range is cleaned he will do his work, man to man, asking no up, i reckon i'll have to try what i can do odds. he is crude and he must go, but he riding herd on a cabbage patch or a likely is honest and brave and loyal, which qual- bunch of potatoes.” ities are not guaranteed by such trumpeted his very fashion of "cutting" cattle factors of "progress" as electricity, tele- showed that he was an old-timer. every- phones, and great life-insurance companies. thing was done with a rush and a hurrah. from sunrise to dusk the three out- his pony was either at rest or on the dead fits outside of malta sifted the uneasy run. there were no half-way measures. herds, stopping only at noon to ride back when he picked out a steer he went after to their camps in the hills, eat dinner, it on the jump, nor thought it worth while change horses and return to their task. to reckon whether he ran a pound or two shipping could not begin till next morning of beef off an animal, so long as he got at daybreak. therefore, when the sun there in a gorgeous hurry. the golden age dropped low in the cloudless sky, the herds when he helped "shoot up” towns for di moved slowly toward the nearest water the people who are settling the open range. hole, and the weary outfits scattered toward their camps. one bunch of cattle was waiting its turn for water, and two men were left as the first watch of the night herd until they could be relieved for supper. the spare, bent figure of old “doc" thompson, on his motionless pony, was outlined against the reddening sky. in front of him were the quiet cattle, beginning to "bed down" on the grass. the pose of the old man as he dropped forward a little in his saddle, his hands clasped on the horn, held a cer- tain indefinable pathos. he seemed to sig- nify more than merely a cow hand tired after a day of hard riding. the passing of the virile and rugged youth of the nation was suggested in the silhouette he made against the sunset sky. then the roar of a train came over the plains. its lights went by like shooting stars and vanished in the paling west. the spirit of the new civilization was sweeping across the last of the open range. it took three men to get this broncho into harness. a montana sheep ranch of to-day. pe a cow camp on the fall round-up in montana. ! - m pioneers in the wake of the cowboy. - the builders that night the cow punchers took pos room, flung a leg over his pony, drove home session of malta. they had been three both spurs and clattered up street, whirling weeks on the round-up, and they rode into his rope and singing at the top of his lungs. town like homing pigeons. it may cause one of the owners was moved to remark disappointment to record that while a con with a reminiscent chuckle: siderable amount of whiskey was absorbed, “it seems tame in malta, but it's not so nobody was killed, and most of the bar very long ago that jack teal held up the room lights were intact at midnight. whole town for half a day because his feel- a group of cattle owners planted their ings had been hurt. before the hotel was chairs on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. built we stock-men used to sleep in a log every man of the half dozen counted his house, in a line between the row of saloons cattle by thousands in texas and montana. and the dance halls. this put us under a the least prosperous of the company could cross fire, for the cow punchers in the sa- have rounded up a million dollars' worth of loons had a cheerful habit of emptying beef on the hoof if he were put to it. but their guns at the dance-hall windows and you could not have found among them all vice versa. i was writing letters one night a grain of the "bluff” and money worship when my foreman came in and said : and straining pretense that surges night “'i hate to bother you, but jack teal is ly through the corridors of the waldorf- getting mad, and he says he's liable to be astoria. real mad if things go on. as he's in the after a while there joined them a stocky saloon just in front here, i reckon you man whose garb was not only careless, but want to know when to dodge if the shoot- seemed to speak of poverty. a dusty ing gets wild. jack does some seem ir- handkerchief was around his collarless neck. ritated. a sheep herder accused him of his shapeless trousers were tucked into stealing a bundle of coyote pelts. and dustier boots, and his slouch hat looked as jack didn't like it of course, and to show if it had been stamped on by a cayuse. his contempt for sheep men, he up and bit his manner was almost shy, as if he were off the sheep herder's ear. another sheep nobody and he were painfully aware of that man chips in to help his partner, and jack depressing fact. after he had passed on, sails in and bites off his ear, to show that one of the group carelessly observed: he is more contemptuous than ever. it “of course, i naturally despise sheep. does look to me as if he might get real mad but the sheep man is ace high in this coun after a while.' try. we're all back numbers. the cow “the foreman had made a conservative man is in the discard for fair. look at ben report. jack was getting mad.' three phillips, there, who just loafed up. he soundly whipped sheep men were wiping has some cattle, and he shipped fifteen hun the blood from their features, and starting dred head this year. there's between out to swear out a warrant for jack's ar- sixty and seventy thousand dollars as his rest. they were gone for some time, but cattle rake-off for the season. but that were unable to find a marshal or deputy isn't a marker to what he's doing with daring enough to arrest jack when he was sheep. why, his wool alone will fetch him irritated.' a hundred and fifty thousand dollars this “whereupon, the justice of the peace, a year. and he has ten thousand lambs. strapping big scotchman, said he'd serve there's twenty-five thousand more. i fig- the paper himself. he collided with jack, ure that his cash income this year is well and when the smoke cleared, jack had past the two hundred thousand dollar justice on the floor badly battered. mark. isn't that enough to make you sore “it must have been about this time that on sheep men? he carries about seventy- jack decided he was ‘real mad over the five thousand sheep, he tells me. he has way he was treated in malta. he rode forty thousand acres fenced for them on one out to camp, no one venturing to annoy range. and i remember when ben phillips his sensitive temperament as he galloped moved from the judith basin to the north through the street. an hour later i rode side of the missouri eleven years ago with out to camp with my foreman. the moon- less than ten thousand sheep." light was bright, and about half way we a cowboy came out of the nearest bar met jack coming back to town. he was the outing magazine put in several enjoyable hours taking pot-shots at every man who dared emerge from cover. malta was put out of commission. tiring of this amusement, or running out of ammunition, he rode back to camp. "i met him next morning, and he looked mighty ashamed of himself. i gave him the devil of a lecture, not so much about his general line of conduct, as his shocking practice of biting off the ears of people who disagreed with him. he took it to heart and promised he would never do it again, and he kept his word. i asked with some indignation: “what did you mean by holding me up, the best friend you've got?' “his only comment was eminently characteristic: “well, you stood it damn well, mr. milner.'' an owner from texas was moved to contribute another tale of recent life on the northern range. “when i go to chicago or new york it's hard for me to realize that things have not quite simmered down to the trolley and asphalt pavement stage of life out here on the old trail. for instance, there was the round-up of the dutch' henry gang of rustlers and outlaws only four years ago, when ‘leather' griffith the invading farmer and a sample beet. and his posse lay fourteen days in the hills just north of here, about as alarming a sight as i ever bumped trying to catch the outlaws that were hid- into. he had it in for the wide, wide ing somewhere in there. it was in the world, for he reined up twenty feet from dead of winter, and some of the sheriff's me, threw down his winchester, wobbling outfit started in such a hurry that they had it square and fair at my manly chest. his nothing but their blankets. they slept finger was fooling most carelessly with the in the snow with their saddles under their trigger as he remarked with deadly de heads, until it was figured out that the liberation : ranchmen in the hills were passing infor- “i ain't quite sure whether ought to mation along to the rustlers, being scared kill you or not.' to death at the name of 'dutch' henry. “he thought i was coming out to arrest “if the word was being passed along him, and we argued the point for several ahead of them, there was no sense in the minutes, while that fool gun was held on posse's staying out any longer, so 'leather' my heart. at length jack let the gun drop griffith called them in. but he left two with seeming reluctance, and rode on to good men behind, george bird and jack town. there he proceeded to shoot at moran, who stowed themselves away in a every head that showed. the stores and coulee and came near freezing stiff. but saloons put up their shutters and all busi the trick worked. the word went through ness was suspended. jack took a com the country that all the sheriff's outfit had manding position in the main street and gone into glasgow and malta. - the builders old rancher, at his left was the deputy, moran, and at the foot of the table was the boy. bird offered to wait on the table and nobody kicked, so he passed dishes and did not sit down. “something was about due to drop. men can't stand that kind of a strain for- ever. at last george bird staked his life on one throw, and you can bet he had figured it pretty carefully during his wake- ful night. he had it mapped out that while the outlaw was mighty suspicious, he wasn't quite sure, and that the quiet and easy twelve hours he had put in with these genial strangers had him some puz- zled in his mind. this was what bird banked on, he having a keen set of mental works for a deputy. “he sauntered over to the wall, took a bag of tobacco and papers out of a pocket “after two or three days, bird and moran rode down to the nearest ranch, and kept their eyes peeled to see that nobody broke out to carry information to the rus- tlers. an old man and a boy were the only people living at the ranch, and the two vis- itors told them they were out looking up some stray horses. the rancher welcomed them, for he was in fear of his life, and wanted protection against the rustlers. it wasn't more than a day before the boy came running into the house, and told the two deputies that one of the ‘dutch’henry gang was coming in, carlisle, he thought his name was. from description, bird and moran sized up the stranger as jones, one of the most desperate men of the gang, al- though they could not swear to it. how- ever, the visitor walked in, taking it for granted the coast was clear, and bumped into the two deputies, whom he could not quite make out. he was suspicious, and they were alert for the first move in one of the most remarkable plays ever pulled off in the west. “these three men ate supper at the same table, chatting pleas- antly, but all hands were keyed up for action and ready for the curtain to go up with a rush. the evening passed without inci- dent. the deputies knew that if their man was jones, the slightest bungle meant a killing. “there was only one spare bed, and without remark the three men took off their coats and boots and piled in together, three in a bed. they lay awake all night, side by side, touching elbows, each listening for the slightest movement made by one of his fellows. each man had his six-shooter under his pillow, his hand on it all the time, it's safe to gamble. “this was a situation hard to beat in any novel you ever read. the pull on those three sets of nerves must have been trying, but nobody batted an eyelash, and the trio got up, washed and sat down to breakfast. now thi carlisle, or jones, sat at the head of the table. at his right was the the vanishing redman as a cow puncher. an old-time freight outfit that still survives in montana. old-time cow punchers who are making their last stand in montana. the builders and began to roll a cigarette. this move fresh mounts during their long circuit of turned his back square toward jones at several hundred miles after the scattered the table. the other deputy sized up the herds that were roaming at their own situation out of one eye, but kept on ab sweet will. sorbing bacon and beans as if there was the cook was a man of infinite resource, nothing doing. whose thatch had grown gray with cow "now follows the part of the play that outfits from the rio grande to the ca- interests me most. when bird deliber nadian boundary. when he snatched a ately turned his back on the outlaw, and quiet hour in the early evening to join a moran didn't even look up, jones figured group of cow punchers spinning yarns of it that no man really gunning after him other days, he was reminded to recount as would give him a chance like that. bird follows: walked back to the table, then turned “some of you remember that fiddle- again, went over to his coat, fished out a player over on the n-bar-n ranch? he's match again with his back to the outlaw. horse-wrangler for the lazy s outfit now. moran kept on chatting easy and calm, yes, that's the man. he rode past here while his partner stood looking out of the yesterday, but he still looked sore and window and lighting his cigarette. wouldn't stop. the boys were sure an- “but as bird turned toward them, he noyed by his fiddle-playin' that time. he made a lightning swoop with one hand and would sit around the bunk-house, 'wee- caught up his winchester carbine that was waw-in' and 'wee-wa-in' at all times of the leaning against a cupboard in that corner. day and night. he was just learnin' and this was what he had been aiming to do all it was torturin'. the rest of us got so it through this tobacco and cigarette play. was more tryin' on the nerves to be dreadin' he threw the carbine down on jones al that fiddle, not knowin' when it was due most with the same motion, and told him to break loose, than to listen to it when it to throw up his hands. the outlaw made did happen. to get rid of this painful sus- a motion to pull his gun from inside the pense, we worked out a scheme which was waistband of his trousers, where he had laid before the fiddler somethin' like this: tucked it for breakfast. but bird was too ""here's what you can do. figure out quick for him. he shot twice before jones just how long each day you've got to prac- could get his six-shooter into play, and the tice to become a virtue-oso. if it's an outlaw fell off his chair against the stove hour, all right; if it's two hours, all right. with one bullet through his head and an but pick your spell, and name the hour of other through his lungs. before he died, the day and stick to it hereafter. that he muttered: gives us warnin' when to look out for it, “i slept in the same bed with the and we won't be settin' around in a state and they shot me down like a dog.' of nervous panic and gettin' cases of the “his gun had dropped from his hand, but horrows. if you don't like this, then your with his last gasp, so moran told me, his fiddle is smashed over your head, pronto.' right forefinger was twitching as he tried “the fiddler didn't like it, but he studied to pull a trigger that wasn't there." a while and said he needed two hours a day next morning we rode out to a cow camp to keep his hand in. among the hills after the shipping was over, “all right,' says the gang. 'it's a tough and the “rollicky" texas cattle and the proposition, but if it's two hours, she goes.' more unruly natives had been driven into •right on the first day all hands got the stock-pens and up the shutes to the sore on the bargain, but the word had been waiting cars. it was good to lie on the passed and we stood pat. this locoed grass near the cook's tent and the chuck fiddler 'wee-waw-ed' for a while and then wagon, and watch the cow punchers come asked how long he had been playin'. in from their hard and dusty task. now ‘half an hour,' said the man that held the they would ride the range again for two watch. weeks,“making the circle” to round up “he started up again and fiddled a more cattle to be driven in for shipment. while till his arm got tired, and then he two hundred picked horses grazed within laid down and wanted to quit. sight of the camp, to keep fifteen men in “one hour,' said the time-keeper. keep l the outing magazine her goin'. we're makin' good on our end the crisp, brown buffalo grass; and other of the bargain. you can't lay down on nights were enlivened by stories of a life your end of it, not on your life.' the that is almost gone, as told in the blankets fiddler grunted and cussed some, and sailed around the camp fires. then the scene in and 'wee-waw-ed’ most mournful for shifted to another kind of life which seemed half an hour more. then the boys broke tame and colorless by contrast, but in loose and renigged. they simply couldn't which can be glimpsed, not the past, but stand it any longer, for they saw that there the future of this north country. would be no livin' through the winter with in williston, north dakota, just beyond a bargain like that. so they grabbed mr. so they grabbed mr. the montana boundary line, i found the fiddler and strung him with a rope around men who stand for the new order of things. his feet to two bull-rings about eight feet some of them were dressed in khaki, leather up on the wall, and left him, head down, to puttees and campaign hats, with a military think it over, hopin' that if all his brains smartness of bearing. they were not army rushed to his head at once, he might get a men, but the scouts of the peaceful inva- gleam of horse sense and quit his vicious sion that is crowding back our dashing habits. heroes of the lariat and the branding iron. "he wriggled quite violent, and finally this engineer's party of the government managed to climb up his leg and get a reclamation service had come to discuss knife out of his belt. without carin' for with the people of that region an irriga- consequences, he cuts the rope and drops tion project involving forty thousand acres on the back of his neck with a thump that of lands now used for wheat-growing and shook the buildin'. he was fightin' mad grazing. the gathering was like an old- when he come to, and he makes such a fashioned "town-meeting" in new england. rash play with his knife that the musical a hall was filled to overflowing with farm- festivities over at the n-bar-n wind up ers and townsmen who pressed around a for good with one man settin' on the fid table on which was spread a map of the dler's head, another on his stomach, and near-by country. leaning over it was the a third whalin' the fiddle into toothpicks supervising engineer from washington. against a post.” the proceedings were in the nature of a other days in the open range were made heart to heart talk between uncle sam and bright in memory by long rides over his children. the freighter and his “chuck-wagon." the builders t! e paternal government was willing to be easy to pay this from the greatly in- advance the funds needed to increase the creased production. you would think that value of their lands twenty-and thirty-fold these farmers of williston would jump to if a fair bargain could be struck with the grasp such a magnificent benefaction. the owners. this was a minor project com supervising engineer looked up from his pared with the greater irrigation schemes map and said: in progress elsewhere in the arid west, but “it is the wish of the government that it was no less significant and interesting. these irrigated lands shall be cultivated to impressive facts, arrayed in terms of mil the best advantage. it has been found in lions of dollars and acres, make rather other reclaimed areas that eighty acres is bloodless reading, unless you can get be as much land as one man can make highly hind them at the men and women con productive. it is probable that the future cerned, whose essential joys and hopes and will show forty acres to be the most ef- sorrows are little different from your own. fective farming unit.” therefore, this little assemblage in a small the postmaster replied in behalf of his town of the northwest appealed more to fellow-citizens: the imagination than the sight of some stu “we are the fellows that suffered the pendous masonry dam impounding heaven hardships to get and keep our land. we knows how many millions of gallons of came into this country as pioneers, and water in a corner of the arizona desert. settled it, and we have hung on by the skin here was a handful of hardy-looking of our teeth through thick and thin. we men, just plain american farmers, who had deserve all we can get. most of us have won their holdings from a wilderness and quarter sections, and we think we can carried their burdens without help. they handle our hundred and sixty acres and were hoping for a verdict which would in make money on the deal. it would not be crease the value of their land from five dol fair to cut us down to eighty acres. the lars to one hundred dollars an acre. the smaller the farm the more settlers will government proposed to lend them nearly come in, that is true. but let us have a million dollars without interest to put the benefits of the irrigation project. we the water on their land. they must agree are used to big farms. we need lots of to repay the loan, twenty dollars for each land. but the main question is, do we get acre, in ten yearly installments. it would the water?" the new generation at the county fair. the outing magazine “right here is where i draw cards," he shouted to a friend. “i found a vein of coal while i was riding range. i made my location and i'm surely in on the ground floor. the pumping plant to lift the water from the missouri and put it on the bench lands will have to be staked out near my land. and i'm the boy to supply the coal. here's one cow man you punkin-rollers can't put out of busi- ness.” in the heart of the montana range is the milk river valley, a land of fertile farming soil three hundred miles long and sixty miles wide. most of it was an indian “doc" thompson, the veteran cow puncher, one of the last of his reservation until fifteen ger.eration. years ago. since then thus spoke the independent american it has been opened for settlement, and to his government, sticking up for what among the earliest pilgrims of the plow he believed belonged to him. the bigger a colony of eastern farmers who question at stake was whether the govern- founded the town of chinook on the great ment would approve the general project? northern, and spread around it along the this was what these people were breath valley. upon this empty piece of cattle less to know. think what it meant to range has grown a town of two thousand them. sure crops, certain incomes, so people, with brick blocks, two school build- swift an expansion of settlement as would ings, three churches and three hotels. its read like a fairy tale in any other country, business contributes a quarter of a million every man's possessions swelled thirty-fold dollars a year in freight receipts. by the stroke of a pen in the hand of the chinook is an important shipping point secretary of the interior. after all, this for cattle and sheep, and the cow puncher meeting was as dramatic, in its own fash and the shambling herder with his faithful ion, as the fall round-up a hundred miles dogs mingle in the streets with the farmer away. the supervising engineer an who has brought to town a load of beets nounced with dignified deliberation: or alfalfa seed. the chinook farmers who "in behalf of the reclamation service, flung this outpost into the middle of the i have decided to recommend the williston open range did not wait for government project to the approval of the secretary. irrigation projects. they sturdily banded his word is final, but we have gone over the together, men and teams, dug their own ground very thoroughly, and i see no rea ditches, and made land that had been son why you may not expect a favorable worth a few cents an acre to the stock action at washington. your co-operation, men, yield from eighteen to twenty-five as shown by the contracts signed, makes dollars a year in hay, wheat, fruit and al- this a most promising undertaking." falfa. there was much shaking of hands and a they showed what could be done with few cheers. a lone cow puncher on the the sleeping resources of the milk river sidewalk, who had seemed lost in such valley. now the government is plan- company, let out an exultant whoop. ning mightily to reinforce the work they was the builders so manfully began, and irrigation projects stead entry, of which almost twenty mil- have been surveyed which will sweep lion acres have never been surveyed. it twelve thousand square miles into the raises more wool and sheep than any other golden zone of cultivation. the future state, its copper mines are the richest, its will see more than a hundred thousand cities are growing with immense vigor and families, each with a hundred and sixty solidity, yet it is an empire in its infancy, acre farm, filling this milk river valley which is to be conquered and possessed by from end to end. in this one corner of the the people from the older country to the state of montana irrigation will increase eastward, where the hunger for land and the value of these open grazing lands more homes will increase with each new gen- than fifty million dollars. eration. montana will continue to be one of the the alarmist swears the country is going greatest of the live-stock states. but the to the dogs when a few rascals in high cattle will be found in small bunches as a places are exposed. but he does not know, part of the diversified farming interests of or he pays no heed, when ten thousand ranches on these reclaimed lands. mon honest men quietly go forth to build their tana has only . inhabitants to the square homes in new places, and thereby clinch mile. its arable lands are greater just so many more rivets in the keel of the tent than those of all new york, pennsyl- american ship of state. vania, massachusetts, connecticut, rhode as the frontier passes, the nation waxes island, new hampshire, new jersey, mary- stronger and more unified, and the right land and delaware. more than half the arm of the future is strengthened to deal state is government land, open to home with the problems that vex the present. ex- (to be continued.) cattle owners of the open range. t.farrington elmer drawing by r. farrington elwell. galloping in to the nearest station with death close behind. "overland the story of the “overland mail" written from data furnished by r. f. elwell illustrated by r. farrington elwell o n the seventeenth of may, , outfit this first through line to the rockies. denver turned out to welcome the to maintain a daily service they had to first through coach of what was buy one thousand fine kentucky mules, destined to grow into the “overland mail,” and establish stations every dozen or an enterprise which, for sheer american twenty miles along the route. when they pluck and daring, must be forever linked were ready to send out the first coach, the with the fame of the “ pony express.” rolling stock had been obtained on their red shirts drifted to the outskirts of the ninety-day notes. hamlet and dotted the hills around. hard for three months denver rejoiced in its faced bar tenders made ready for the "hot overland line, and then came the smash. test night that ever tore this camp loose. the owners were spending more to keep the artillery of holster and saddle-boot up the service than was coming in on was unlimbered for an ecstatic fusillade. the passenger way-bills, and denver was there was lively betting in dust and nug threatened with a humiliating isolation. it gets that the first through stage had been looked as if the through stage route, on a gathered in by indians, with takers as regular schedule, was the dream of a couple eager to stake their faith that the scalps of enthusiasts. at this critical juncture in of driver and guard would come through the problem of pioneer transportation, the intact. wealthy firm of russell, majors and wad- at length a swirl of dust showed far dell, overland freighters and contractors, down the trail. it grew into a yellow came to the rescue. the partner russell cloud that crept toward the eager hamlet. was also one of the luckless pair involved then six mules, stretched out on the gallop, in the stage enterprise, into which he had emerged from this curtain and behind them plunged as an independent venture. in- was the lumbering, swaying stage, come stead of saying “we told you so, these safely through, on time, and denver was doughty comrades pulled out of the mire in touch with the world where men wore the fortunes of the “busted" firm of rus- white shirts and lived in real houses. the sell and jones. the capital of the big firm cheers that roared a welcome to this heroic was now swung into the stage business enterprise were echoed in every western with even bolder plans than before. town which hoped and longed for a link of the denver line was viewed as a possible its own with the home country, “ 'way back foundation for a service to stretch from east.” st. joseph, on the missouri, clear out to but to put that dusty coach into den salt lake city. at that time there was ver with its six sweating mules required running between these two far-distant mighty labor and greater faith and grit. points a rickety and feeble stage line which two frontier captains of industry, w. h. made its trips once in two months, there russell and j. s. jones, were the founders, and back. it was a route of twelve hun- and with ideas bigger than their capital dred miles, and the journey was a rash they put in every dollar they could find, hazard as to time and accommodation and stretched their credit to the limit, to along the way. the coaches were cheaply l . farrington elwell- drawing by r. farrington elwell all day, without water, the little guard fought off the band of sioux. the story of the “overland mail” built, breaking down with appalling fre twenty miles a day, more than cutting the quency, and the changing stations were running time in two. so far apart that the mules and horses at first the eastern terminus was leav- must be rested and grazed while the travel enworth; this was changed to atchison, ers waited and swore. those who were in and a little later to st. joseph, which re- a hurry to get to salt lake preferred to mained the starting point of the overland trail along with a freighter's outfit. mail until the coming of the railroad. from now the same qualities which inspire the st. joseph the concord coach and its six bold and far-seeing business combinations mules rolled westward up the beautiful pa- of to-day, where millions are juggled and latte valley, past old fort kearney, follow- fortunes risked, were the stock in trade of ing the broad and shallow river to jules- those early transportation kings, known burg on the south fork. thence the route as the firm of russell, majors and wad headed northwest to strike the north fork dell. if they had lived in this day and gen of the platte, along this river valley to fort eration, they would be found leading the laramie, and then into the south pass of forces in one of the great railway "group" the rockies. past fort bridger, the road consolidations. wound to salt lake city. they saw the denver line go under; they these napoleons of early american en- looked over the bigger proposition, between terprise not only made this line pay, but st. joseph and salt lake, and found that it was not long before they began to look it was a losing business, tottering in the farther westward. they grasped at the last ditch. but these men refused to take magnificent idea of pushing their line clear warning. they had faith in the bigness out to the pacific coast and joining cali- of their west and its latent powers, and fornia with the atlantic border. these they builded upon their faith. road makers began to establish stations in instead of “getting out from under," the deserts of utah and idaho, where wa- they scooped in both these sorry ventures ter was scarce and the obstacles enough to and consolidated them. the great through stagger any equipment short of balloons. route was to end at salt lake, and the but a step at a time the way was prepared, denver line was to be made a spur. the and the weather-scarred, bullet-pierced equipment of the latter was first-class. it stages of this company rocked across the would help to get the big scheme under snowy passes of the sierras, and, with way. therefore the promoters bought out squealing brakes, shot down into the val- the owners of the salt lake line, messrs. ley of the sacramento. california was one hockaday and leggett, and went down terminus, the missouri river the other. to the bottom of their pockets to reorgan the men who planned and backed the ize the new system. overland route were big and brave, but they built more than one hundred new they could have done nothing without a stations along the twelve hundred miles little army of agents and drivers every whit of plain, desert and mountain pass. they as big and brave in their humbler spheres put on the finest, stoutest concord coaches of action. and it was action, white-hot that brains could plan and money pay for. and picturesque, such as you may find to- these vehicles were stanch and heavy, day only on the firing-line of an army. carrying from nine to a dozen passengers there was an agent in charge of each in a swinging body slung to the running division of two hundred and fifty miles of gear by leather thorough-braces. thus road, with all its stations and equipment. swung between heaven and earth the tray he bought and distributed rations, fodder, eler was tossed like a pea in a dry pod; mules, harness, and kept the buildings in but he was protected from the weather, repair. he fed his passengers and fought he was well fed, and he was moving night for their lives, he kept his drivers on the and day at the limit of horse and mule jump, and his mule teams fit and ready. power. the old line to salt lake used his stations were forts as well, in which twenty-one days for the twelve hundred he must stand off the indian raids that miles, if all went well. the new line lent zest to a trip in the overland coach. slammed its passengers through in ten there was no summoning a wrecking crew days, an average gait of one hundred and by wire when a coach toppled off a moun- the outing magazine tain road. the agent was king of his terri think it might be a losing race to the sta- tory, and his responsibilities demanded that tion, where the stock-tender and his gang order of ability which made the american would be able to make a stand-off fight of pioneers a race of giants. it. so he handed the reins to the agent, the stage driver took his chances and whipped his rifle from its boot, and turned counted himself lucky if his skin would for a snap shot at the leading indian. hold whiskey, without leaky and annoy this headlong brave happened to be the ing bullet holes, at the end of his run. chief of the party, and cody tumbled him stage driving as an art departed with the from his pony with neatness and dispatch. passing of this race of experts. now and the agitated passengers opened a furious then you will find in the quartermaster's fusillade which punctured earth and sky, wagon trains of the regular army a grizzled and shook the nerve of the pursuers, even pilot of four or six government mules who if it did not endanger their lives. but it learned his trade in the far west, and who was the rifle of the driver that contin- may be called an heir to the skill of the ued to drill the warriors until the station men on the boxes of the overland. was in sight, when the indians doubled colonel william f. cody drove one of back, unwilling to make of it a stockade these coaches when he was a hardy lad assault. of twenty. an experience of the young as soon as the mail and express business cody when he was steering the overland expanded, the guard, or conductor, shared as a livelihood may convey some notion with the driver the perils of the road. it of the lives these men led in the brave days was his business to stand off, not only of a past generation. the petulant savage, but the more deter- as he pulled out of the plum creek sta mined desperado who gained his precarious tion on a bracing november morning, the livelihood by “holding up” the through agent shouted a warning about indians. stages. young cody cracked his whip over the every day the big coaches rolled out of backs of his six peppery mustangs, and sacramento and st. joseph, with the regu- idly figured that the agent was "getting larity of a through-train system. by night injuns on the brain.” but that prudent and day they reeled over mountain and official recalled him, and announced his plain, always in danger of indian attack. sudden decision to go along as an extra the only respite from this danger was in precaution. the seven passengers were the summer of , when general albert well armed, and the agent was a clanking sidney johnston marched six thousand arsenal as he clambered to the box. troops along the overland trail to quell this little garrison on wheels jogged the threatened mormon rebellion. this safely over the first half of the run without army, with its long trains of wagons and signs of trouble. then the alert eye of artillery, so impressed the indians, who young cody sighted certain nodding tufts thought all this array was intended for of feathers over the top of a bowlder not their discomfort, that they withdrew from far distant. ahead was a stream difficult the vicinity and left the stage route clear. to ford, and the driver swiftly calculated life, for a little while, became positively that by making a rush for it he might cross monotonous to the drivers. before the sioux could head him off. the the heroic trio, russell, majors and six horses surged into their collars, the waddell, had rendered their country a coach tossed wildly at their frantic heels, grand service, but it was more patriotic and as the outfit lunged into the creek than otherwise profitable. the extension bottom, fifty sioux warriors dashed from of their through service could not be made the willows at the water's edge and opened to meet the vast outlay needed to main- fire. tain it. they smilingly cashed in a defi- but the boy driver had beaten them to cit of several hundred thousand dollars in the water, and was floundering through three years, and then decided that they and across before they could pick up the knew enough to quit before they went chase. the ponies of the hostiles gained broke. in they transferred the whole on the heavy coach, whose wheels were overland equipment to ben holliday, one clogging in yellow mud. cody began to of the finest products of the frontier. - the story of the “overland mail” fortune favored his bold venture in between the wheels, and sand scooped up to shouldering this enterprise, for shortly strengthen the hasty, feeble barricade. after he took charge the united states all day, without water, the little guard government made a contract with the fought off the band of sioux, who charged overland for carrying the through mails up to the makeshift stronghold time and to the pacific coast. this contract, worth again. the indians were so sure of their eight hundred thousand dollars a year, booty that they threw away their long- turned the tide, and the overland began range tactics and tried to rush the coaches to pour dividends into the pockets of ben until the guard were able to drag in their holliday. he was only thirty-eight years dead bodies to reinforce the breastworks. old at that time, full to the brim with more than half the defenders were hit, initiative and energy, and he began to send but they stood their ground until night- out branch stage routes to every mining fall. then those who were able to stand camp and town within reaching distance threw one of the coaches from its running of the trunk line. mail communication gear, and upon the axles and bracing laid spread out and blossomed as a “side line" of their own wounded. with this rude am- the growing business of holliday, for along bulance in tow they struggled on along the his branch routes he charged twenty-five trail, stopping to fight, reeling with exhaus- cents for handling a letter after the gov tion. but before daybreak they reached ernment stamp had been placed thereon. the station at the three crossings of the during the civil war the overland sweetwater. saw the high tide of its prosperity. there a large force of frontiersmen went to the was a long and tedious western route be scene of the fight a few days later. they tween san francisco and st. louis, through found the coaches stuck so full of arrows los angeles and el paso. but its rivalry that they looked like gigantic pincushions, for passengers, mail and express was wiped and fairly shot to pieces with bullets. the out by the war, for the southern route ran mail sacks had been slit open and rifled, for a long distance through confederate and thousands of dollars in drafts and territory. although ben holliday's line bonds were strewn along the trail. these ran clear of this kind of interference, his papers were gathered up, shipped to wash- coaches were harassed by indians, who ington, and reforwarded with the official grew bolder as the frontier was stripped explanation that they had been "delayed of troops to reinforce the garrisons of the en route,” a statement so matter-of-fact border states. that it has a touch of humor. one of the fiercest fights in the history although ben holliday was making a of the overland took place in . large fortune in the management of the two heavily laden coaches were trailing overland, he was tempted to sell out in along the sweetwater on an april morning. , when the wells fargo express com- they had an armed guard of nine picked - pany began to make offers for the business. men in charge of the conductor, james a bargain was finally struck by which brown. the outfit was approaching a holliday received one million five hundred watercourse called devil's creek, when a thousand in cash, and three hundred thou- sioux fighting man on pony back jumped sand in stock of the express company. from ambush ahead, and as if this were a the wells fargo company maintained signal, the air was full of bullets and ar the overland even after the rails of the rows hurtling from the roadside. union pacific and northern pacific began the guard of the coaches made a stout to push forward along the trail that had defense, beating off the first attack, but been for so long rutted by the wheels of the horses began to drop in harness, and the concord coaches. the overland con- in a few minutes every animal was down, tinued to link the shortening gap between killed or wounded. the two coaches were the lines of rails from east and west. stalled, therefore, and there was nothing when the last spike was driven at prom- to do but make a "last stand” of it. the ontory point on may , , the overland coaches were dragged together under a hot mail vanished, to become a chapter in the fire at short range, mail sacks were piled splendid history of the american frontier. t bar range yarns ii.-the vagrant sioux by clarence edward mulford painting by frank e. schoonover lay within a mile on every side lay broad prairies, and two miles to the east flowed he town the indolent waters of the rio pecos itself. sprawled over half the distance separating the town from the a square mile of al river was excusable, for at certain seasons kali plain, its main of the year the placid stream swelled might- t street depressing ily and swept down in a broad expanse of in its width, for turbulent, yellow flood. those who were on the afternoon of one august day the responsible for its town seemed desolated, and the earth and inception had the buildings thereon wer as huge fur- worked with a gen- naces radiating a visible heat; but when erosity born of the knowledge that they the blazing sun had begun to settle in the had at their immediate and unchallenged west, it awoke with a clamor that might disposal the broad lands of texas and new have been laid to the efforts of a zealous mexico, on which to assemble a grand total satan. at this time it became the mecca of twenty buildings, four of which were of two-score or more joyous cowboys from of wood. as this material was scarce and the neighboring ranches, who livened things had to be brought from where the waters as those knights of the saddle could. of the gulf lapped against the flat coast, in the scant but heavy shadow of cow- the last-mentioned buildings were a mat an's saloon sat a picturesque figure, from ter of local pride as indicating the pro whom came guttural, resonant rumblings gressiveness of their owners. these crea which mingled in a spirit of loneliness with tions of hammer and saw were of one story, the fretful sighs of a flea-tormented dog. crude and unpainted; their cheap weath both dog and master were vagrants, and er-sheathing, warped and shrunken by the they were tolerated because it was a matter pitiless sun, curled back on itself and al of supreme indifference as to who came or lowed unrestricted entrance to alkali dust how long they stayed, as long as the ethics and air. the other shacks were of adobe, and the unwritten law of the cow country and reposed in that magnificent squalor were in violate. and the breaking of these dear to their owners, indians and “greas caused no unnecessary anxiety, for justice ers.' was both speedy and sure. such was the town of buckskin, located when the outcast sioux and his yellow in the valley of the rio pecos, fifty miles dog had drifted into town some few months south of the texas-new mexico line. it before, they had caused neither expostu- was an incident of the cattle trail, that lation nor inquiry, as the cardinal virtue most unique and stupendous of all modern of that whole broad land was to ask a man migrations, and its founders must have no questions which might prove embar- been inspired with a malicious desire to per rassing to all concerned; judgment was of petrate a crime against geography, or else observation, not of history, and a man's they reveled in a perverse cussedness, for past would reveal itself through his actions, - bar range yarns it mattered little whether he was an em were not analytic in temperament, neither bezzler or the wild chip from some pros were they moralists. he was not a menace perous eastern block, as men came to the to society, because society had superb de- range to forget and to lose touch with fenses. so they vaguely recognized his the pampered east; and the range ab many poor qualities and clearly saw his sorbed them as its own. a man was only few good ones. few good ones. he could shoot, when per- a man as his skin contained the qualities mitted, with the best; no horse, however necessary; and the illiterate who could refractory, had ever been known to throw ride and shoot and live to himself was far him; he was an adept at following the more esteemed than the educated who trails left by rustlers, and that was an could not do those things. the more a asset; he became of value to the com- man depends upon himself and the closer munity; he was an economic factor. his is his contact to a quick judgment, the ability to consume liquor with indifferent more laconic and even-poised he becomes. effects raised him another notch in their and the knowledge that he is himself a estimation. he was not always talking judge, tends to create caution and judg- when some one else wished to—another ment. he has no court to uphold his count. there remained about him that honor and to offer him protection, so he stoical indifference to the petty; that ob- must be quick to protect himself and to servant nonchalance of the indian; and maintain his own standing. his nature there was a suggestion, faint, it was true, saved him, or it executed; and the range of a dignity common to chieftains. he absolved him of all unpaid penalties of a was a log of grave deference that tossed on careless past. he became a man born their sea of mischievous hilarity. again and he took up his burden, the ex he wore a pair of corduroy trousers, actions of a new environment, and he lived known to the care-free as "pants,” which as long as those exactions gave him the were held together by numerous patches right to live. he must tolerate no re of what had once been brilliantly colored strictions of his natural rights, and he must calico. a pair of suspenders, torn into not restrict; for the one would proclaim two separate straps, made a belt for him- him a coward; the other, a bully; and both self and a collar for his dog. the trousers received short shifts in that land of the had probably been secured during a fit of self-protected. the basic law of nature absent-mindedness on his part when their is, the survival of the fittest. former owner had not been looking. tucked so, when the wanderers found their at intervals in the top of the corduroys level in buckskin, they were not even asked (the exceptions making convenient shelves by what name men knew them. not car for alkali dust) was what at one time had ing to hear a name which might not har been a stiff-bosomed shirt. this was open monize with their idea of the fitness of down the front and back, the weight of things, the cowboys of the bar had, the trousers on the belt holding it firmly on with a freedom born of excellent livers and the square shoulders of the wearer, thus fearless temperaments, bestowed names be precluding the necessity of collar buttons. fitting their sense of humor and adaptabil- a pair of moccasins, beautifully worked ity. the official title of the sioux was with wampum, protected his feet from the by-and-by; the dog was known as fleas. onslaughts of cacti and the inquisitive and never had names more clearly described pugnacious sand-flies; and lying across his the objects to be represented, for they lap was a repeating winchester rifle, not were excellent examples of cowbiy, dis- dangerous because it was empty, a condi- cernment and aptitude. tion due to the wisdom of the citizens in in their eyes by-and-by was a man. forbidding any one to sell, trade or give he could feel and he could resent insults. to him those tubes of concentrated trouble, they did not class him as one of themselves because he could get drunk. because he did not have energy enough the two were contented and happy. to demand and justify such classification. they had no cares nor duties, and their with them he had a right to enjoy his life pleasures were simple and easily secured, as he saw fit, so long as he did not trespass as they consisted of sleep and a proneness on or restrict the rights of others. they to avoid moving like the untrammeled the outing magazine gave it. coyote, their bed was where sleep overtook handed his rifle, with an exaggerated sweep them; their food, what the night wrapped of his arm, to the cowboy nearest to him, in a sense of security, or the generosity of and wrapped his arms around the recipient the cowboys of the bar . no tub-ridden to insure his balance. the rifle was passed diogenes ever knew so little of responsi from hand to hand until it came to buck bility or as much unadulterated content. peters, who gravely presented it to its there is a penalty even to civilization and owner as a new gun. ambition. by-and-by threw out his stomach in when the sun had cast its shadows be an endeavor to keep his head in line with yond by-and-by's feet, the air became his heels, and, grasping the weapon with charged with noise; shouts, shots and the both hands, turned to cowan, to whom he rolling thunder of madly pounding hoofs echoed flatly throughout the town. by “yu hab this un. me got two. me and-by yawned, stretched and leaned back, keep new un, mebbyso.” then he loos- reveling in the semi-conscious ecstasy of ened his belt and drank long and deep. the knowledge that he did not have to im a shadow darkened the doorway and mediately get up. fleas opened one eye hopalong limped in. spying by-and-by and cocked an ear in inquiry, and then pushing the bottle into his mouth, while rolled over on his back, squirmed and red connors propped him up, he grinned sighed contentedly and long. the outfit and took out five silver dollars, which he of the bar had come to town. jingled under by-and-by's eyes, causing the noise came rapidly nearer and in that worthy to lay aside the liquor and creased in volume as the riders turned the erratically grab for the tantalizing fortune. corner and drew rein suddenly, causing "not yet, sabe?" said hopalong, chang- their mounts to slide on their haunches in ing the position of the money. “if yu ankle-deep dust. wants to corral this here herd of simoleons “hullo, old buck-with-th'-pants, how's yu has to ride a cayuse what red bet me yore liver?” yu can't ride. yu has got to grow on that "come up an' irrigate, old tank!" there saddle an’ stay growed for five whole “chase th’ flea ranch an' trail along!” minutes by buck's ticker. i ain't a-goin' these were a few of the salutations dis to tell yu he's any saw-horse, for yu'd know cernible among the medley of playful yells, better, as yu reckons red wouldn't bet on the safety valves of supercharged good no losin' proposition if he knowed better, nature. which same he don't. yu straddles that ‘skr-e-e!” yelled hopalong cassidy, let four-laigged cloud-burst an' yu gets these, ting off a fusillade of shots in the vicinity sabe? i ain't seen th’ cayuse yet that yu of fleas, who rapidly retreated around the couldn't freeze to, an' i'm backin' my opin- corner, where he wagged his tail in eager ions with my moral support an'one month's expectation. he was not disappointed, pay." for a cow pony tore around in pursuit and by-and-by's eyes began to glitter as hopalong leaned over and scratched the the meaning of the words sifted through yellow back, thumping it heartily, and, his befuddled mind. ride a horse-five tossing a chunk of beef into the open jaws dollars-ride a five-dollars horse—horses of the delighted dog, departed as he had ride dollars--then he straightened up and come. the advent of the outfit meant a began to speak in an incoherent jumble of square meal and the dog knew it. sioux and bad english. he, the mighty in cowan's, lined up against the bar, rider of the sioux; he, the bravest warrior the others were earnestly and assiduously and the greatest hunter; could he ride a endeavoring, with a promise of success, to horse for five dollars? well, he rather get by-and-by drunk, which endeavors thought he could. grasping red by the coincided perfectly with by-and-by's idea shoulder, he tacked for the door and nar- of the fitness of things. the fellowship rowly missed hitting the bottom step first, and the liquor combined to thaw out his landing, as it happened, in the soft dust reserve and to loosen his tongue. after with red's leg around his neck. some- gazing with an air of injured surprise at the what sobered by the jar, he stood up and genial loosening of his knees, he gravely apologized to the crowd for red getting in bar range yarns the way, declaring that red was a "heap passing had been paid for. his surviv- good un," and that he didn't mean to do it. ing friends seldom mentioned him, but on the outfit of the bar was, perhaps, the pegs above his vacant bunk hung his the most famous of all from canada to the cheyenne saddle and all of his effects; and rio grande. the foreman, buck peters, woe to the man or men who spoke of him controlled a crowd of men (who had all in an unjust or insulting manner! the instincts of boys) that had shown no buck peters was a man of mild appear- quarter to many rustlers, and who, while ance, somewhat slow of speech and cor- always care-free and easy-going (even respondingly quick of action, who never fighting with great good humor and care became flurried. his was the master hand lessness), had established the reputation that controlled, and his colts enjoyed the of being the most reckless gang of dare reputation of never missing when a hit devil gunfighters that ever pounded leather. could have been expected with reason. crooked gaming houses, from el paso to many floods, stampedes and blizzards had cheyenne and from phenix to leaven assailed his nerves, but he yet could pour worth, unanimously and enthusiastically a glass of liquor, held at arm's length, damned them from their boots to their through a knot hole in the floor without sombreros, and the sheriffs and marshals wetting the wood. of many localities had received from their next in age came lanky smith, a small, hands most timely assistance —and some undersized man of retiring disposition. trouble. wiry, indomitable, boyish and then came skinny thompson, six feet four generous, they were splendid examples of on his bared soles, and true to his name; virile manhood; and, surrounded as they hopalong described him as “th’shadow were with great dangers and a unique civ of a chalk mark.” pete wilson, the slow- ilization, they should not, in justice, be witted and very taciturn, and billy wil- judged by opinions born of the common liams, the wavering pessimist, were of ordi- place. nary height and appearance. red connors, they were real cowboys, which means, with hair that shamed the name, was the public opinion to the contrary notwith possessor of a temper that was as dry standing, that they were not lawless, nor as tinder; his greatest weakness was his drunken, shooting bullies who held life regard for the rifle as a means of preserv- cheaply, as their kin has been unjustly pic- ing peace. johnny nelson had taken the tured; but, while these men were naturally place formerly occupied by jimmy price, peaceable, they had to continually rub el that of the protégé, and he could do no bows with men who were not. gamblers, wrong. the last, hopalong cassidy, was criminals, bullies and the riff-raff that fled a combination of irresponsibility, humor, from the protected east, had drifted among good nature, love of fighting, and non- them in great numbers and it was this class chalance when face to face with danger. that caused the trouble. the hard-work his most prominent attribute was that of ing "cow punchers" lived according to the always getting into trouble without any law of the land, a land farther from broad intention of so doing; in fact, he was much way than china was, and they obeyed that aggrieved and surprised when it came. it greatest of all laws, that of self-preservation. seemed as though when any "bad-man” their fun was boisterous, but they paid för desired to add to his reputation he inva- all the damage they inflicted; their work riably selected hopalong as the means (a was one continual hardship, and the re fact due, perhaps, to the perversity of action of one extreme swings far toward things in general). bad-men became scarce the limit of its antithesis. go back to the soon after hopalong became a fixture in apple if you would trace the beginning of any locality. he had been crippled some self-preservation and the need. years before in a successful attempt to pre- there were, at this time, eight in the vent the assassination of a friend, sheriff outfit, jimmy price (a boy of eighteen) harris, of albuquerque, and he still pos- having been wantonly shot and killed the sessed a limp. year before by a cowboy of the c , a when red had relieved his feelings and neighboring ranch; and in the battle that had dug the alkali out of his ears and eyes, followed between the respective outfits his he led the sioux to the rear of the saloon, the outing magazine where a "pinto" was busily engaged in “sounded like thunder a short time endeavoring to pitch a saddle from his past, an' from th' dust it must be sort of back, employing the intervals in trying windy out,” drawled buck. to see how much of the picket rope he "hey, yu, let up on that an' have a could wrap around his legs. drink on th' house,” invited cowan. “if i when by-and-by saw what he was ex gits that d-n warwhoop i'll make yu pected to ride he felt somewhat relieved, think there's been a cyclone. i'll see how for the pony did not appear to have more long that bum hangs around this here burg, than the ordinary amount of cussedness. i will.” he waved his hand, and johnny and red red's eyes narrowed and his temper got bandaged the animal's eyes, which quieted the upper hand. “he ain't no bum when him at once, and then they untangled the yu gives him rotgut at a quarter of a dol- rope from around his legs and saw that the lar a glass, is he? any time that 'bum' cinches were secure. motioning to by- gits razzled out for nothin' more in this, and-by that all was ready, they jerked the why, i goes too; an' i ain't sayin' nothin' bandage off as the indian settled himself about goin' peaceable-like, neither." in the saddle. "i knowed somethin' like this 'ud hap- had by-and-by been really sober he pen," dolefully sang out billy williams, would have taken the conceit out of that strong on the side of his pessimism. pony in chunks, and as it was, he expe “for th' lord's sake, have yu broke rienced no great difficulty in holding his out?" asked red, disgustedly. “i'm goin' seat; but in his addled state of mind he to hit th' trail—but just keep this afore grasped the end of the cinch strap in such yore mind: if by-an'-by gits in any ac- a way that when the pony jumped for cidents or ain't in sight when i comes to ward in its last desperate effort the buckle town again, this here climate 'll be a d--n slipped and the cinch became unfastened; sight hotter 'n it is now. no hard feel- and by-and-by, still seated in the saddle, ings, sabe? it's just a casual bit of advice. flew headforemost into the horse trough, come on, fellows, let's amble—i'm hun- where he spilled much water. gry.” as this happened cowan turned the as they raced across the plain toward corner, and when he saw the wasted water the ranch, a pair of beady eyes, snapping (which he had to carry, bucketful at a with a drunken rage, watched them from time, from the wells a good quarter of a an arroyo; and when cowan entered the mile away) his anger blazed forth, and saloon the next morning he could not find yelling, he ran for the drenched sioux who by-and-by's rifle, which he had placed was just crawling out of his bath. when behind the bar. he also missed a handful the unfortunate saw the irate man bearing of cartridges from the box near the cash down on him, he sputtered in rage and drawer; and had he looked closely at his fear, and, turning, he ran down the street bottled whiskey he would have noticed a with cowan thundering flat footedly be- loss there. a horse was missing from a hind on a fat man's gallop, to the hysterical mexican's corral and there were rumors cheers of the delighted outfit, who saw in that several indians had been seen far out it nothing but a good joke. on the plain. when cowan returned from his hopeless ii task, blowing and wheezing, he heard sun- dry remarks, sotto voce, which were not “phew! i'm shore hungry,” said hop- calculated to increase his opinion of his along, as he and red dismounted at the physical condition. ranch the next morning for breakfast. "seems to me,” remarked the irrepress “wonder what's good for it?” ible hopalong, “that one of those cayuses “they's three things that's good for has got th' heaves." famine,” said red, leading the way to the "it shore sounds like it,” acquiesced bunk-house. “yu can pull in yore belt, johnny, red in the face from holding in his yu can drink, an' yu can eat. laughter, "an' say, somebody interferes." ting as bad as johnny—but he's young "all knock-kneed animals do, yu heath- yet.” en,” supplied red. the others met their entrance with a yore get- bar range yarns volley of good-humored banter, some of time yu gits yore shirt washed,” gravely which was so personal and evoked such interposed hopalong as he went out to cuss responses that it sounded like the pre the cook. liminary skirmish to a fight. but under "well, what 'd yu think of that?” ex- all was that soft accent, that drawl of claimed billy in an injured tone. humorous appreciation and eyes twinkling "oh, yu needn't be hikin' for albu- in suppressed merriment. here they were querque-washee-washee 'ud charge yu thoroughly at home and the spirit of com double for washin' yore shirt. yu ought to radeship manifested itself in many subtle fall in th' river some day—then he might ways; the wit became more daring and talk business,” called hopalong over his sharp, billy lost some of his pessimism, shoulder, as he heaved an old boot into and the alertness disappeared from their the gallery. “hey, yu hibernatin' son of manner. morphine, if yu don't git them flapjacks skinny left off romping with red and in here pretty sudden-like, i'll scatter yu yawned. “i wish that cook 'ud wake up all over th' landscape, sabe? yu just an' git breakfast. he's th'cussedest wait till johnny comes!" greaser i ever saw -- he kin go to sleep “wonder where th’ kid is?” asked standin' up an' not know it. johnny's th' lanky, rolling a cigarette. boy that worries him—th' kid comes in an' “off somewhere lookin' at th' sun whoops things up till he's gorged himself.” through th' bottom of my bottle,” grum- "johnny's got th' most appallin' feel for bled billy. grub of anybody i knows," added red. hopalong started to go out, but halted “i wonder what's keepin' him—he's usu on the sill and looked steadily off toward ally hangin' around here bawlin' for his the northwest. “that's funny. hey, fel- grub like a spoiled calf, long afore cookie's lows, here comes buck an' johnny ridin' got th' fire goin'." double-on a walk; too!” he exclaimed. “mebby he rustled some grub out with “wonder what th'-thunder! red, buck's him - i saw him tiptoin' out of th’gal- carryin' him! somethin's busted!” he lery this mornin' when i come back for yelled, as he dashed for his pony and made my cigs," remarked hopalong, glancing at for the newcomers. billy. "i told yu he was hittin' my bottle,” billy groaned and made for the gallery. pertly remarked billy, as he followed the emerging half a minute later he blurted rest outside. out his tale of woe: “every time i blows “did yu ever see johnny drunk? did myself an' don't drink it all in town, some yu ever see him drink more 'n two glasses? slab-sided maverick freezes to it. it's shut yore wailin’ face—they's somethin' gone,” he added, dismally. worse in that in this here,” said red, his "too bad, billy--but what is it?" asked temper rising. “hopalong an' me took skinny. yore cheap liquor-it's under pete's bunk," “what is it? wha'd yu think it was, he added. yu emaciated match? jewelry? cayuses? the trio approached on a walk and it's whiskey-two simoleons worth. some johnny, delirious and covered with blood, thin's allus wrong. this here whole was carried into the bunk house. buck yearth's wrong, just like that cross-eyed waited until all had assembled again and sky-pilot said over to- then, his face dark with anger, spoke “will yu let up?" yelled red, throwing sharply and without the usual drawl: a sombrero at the grumbling unfortunate. "skragged from behind, d-n them! get “yu ask buck where yore tanglefoot is." some grub an’ water an' be quick. we'll “i'd shore look nice askin' th' boss if see who th' gent with th’ grudge is.” he'd rustled my whiskey, wouldn't l? an’ at this point the expostulations of the would yu mind throwin' somebody else's indignant cook, who, not understanding hat? i paid twenty wheels for that, eight the cause, regarded the invasion of hina- years ago, an' i don't want it mussed shop bulls as sacrilegious, came to tus ears. none.” striding quickly to the door, he grabbed "gee, yore easy! why, ah sing, over the pan the mexican was about to throw, at albuquerque, gives them away every and, turning the now frightened man the outing magazine one. arc. around, thundered, “keep quiet an' get knowing how bad he was hit. it was this 'em some grub." trail that led to the northwest, and it was when rifles and ammunition had been this trail that they followed without paus- secured they mounted and followed him at ing; and four men suited them better than a hard gallop along the back trail. no one, for there would be a fight and a good words were spoken, for none were necessary. all knew that they would not return until when they had covered fifty miles they they had found the man for whom they sighted the cross bar o ranch, where they were looking, even if the chase led to can- hoped to secure fresh mounts. as they rode ada. they did not ask buck for any of up to the ranch house the owner, bud the particulars, for the foreman was not wallace, came around the corner and saw in the humor to talk, and all, save hopa them. long, whose curiosity was always on edge, "hullo, boys! what deviltry are yu recognized only two facts and cared for up to now?” he asked. nothing else: johnny had been ambushed buck leaped from his mount, followed and they were going to get the one who was by the others, and shoved his sombrero responsible. they did not even conjecture back on his head as he started to remove as to who it might be, because the trail the saddle. would lead them to the man himself, and “we're trailin' a bunch of murderers. it mattered nothing who or what he was they ambushed johnny an'd-n near there was only one course to take with an killed him. i stopped here to get fresh assassin. so they said nothing, but rode cayuses.” on with squared jaws and set lips, the "yu did right!" replied wallace heartily. seven ponies breast to breast in a close then raising his voice, he shouted to some of his men who were near the corral to bring soon they came to an arroyo which they up the seven best horses they could rope. took at a leap. as they approached it then he told the cook to bring out plenty they saw signs in the dust which told them of food and drink. that a body had lain there huddled up; “i got four punchers what ain't doin' and there were brown spots on the baked nothin' but eat,” he suggested. alkali. the trail they followed was now "much obliged, wallace, but there's only single, buck having ridden along the bank four of 'em an’ we'd rather get 'em our- of the arroyo when hunting for johnny, selves, johnny 'ud feel better," replied for whom he had orders. this trail was buck, throwing his saddle on the horse very irregular, as if the horse had wandered that was led up to him. at will. suddenly they came upon five “how's yore catridges-got plenty?" tracks all pointing one way, and four of persisted wallace. these turned abruptly and disappeared “two hundred apiece,” responded buck, in the northwest. half a mile beyond the springing into his saddle and riding off. point of separation was a chaparral, which “so long,” he called. was an important factor to them. "so long, an' plug h- out of them," each man knew just what had taken shouted wallace as the dust swept over place as if he had been an eye-witness, for him. the trail was plain. the assassins had at five in the afternoon they forded the waited in the chaparral for johnny to pass, black river at a point where it crossed the probably having seen him riding that way. state line from new mexico, and at dusk when he had passed and his back had been camped at the base of the guadaloupe turned to them they had fired and wounded mountains. at daybreak they took up the him severely at the first volley, for johnny chase, grim and merciless, and shortly after- was of the stuff that fights back and his ward they passed the smouldering remains revolvers had showed full chambers and of a camp fire, showing that the pursued clean barrels when red had examined had been in a great hurry, for it should them in the bunk house. then they had have been put out and masked. at noon given chase for a short distance, and, from they left the mountains to the rear and some inexplicable motive, probably fear, sighted the barred horseshoe, which they they had turned and ridden off without approached. bar range yarns the owner of the ranch saw them coming, northeast of skinny, and the same distance and from their appearance surmised that southeast of buck was red connors, who something was wrong. was crawling up the bed of an arroyo. “what is it?” he shouted. “rustlers?” billy, nursing his arm, lay in front of the "nope. murderers. i wants to swap horses, and pete, from his position between cayuses quick," answered buck. billy and hopalong, was crawling from "there they are. th' boys just brought rock to rock in an endeavor to get near 'em in. anything else i can let yu have?” enough to use his colts, his favorite and “nope,” shouted buck as they galloped most effective weapons. intermittent puffs off. of smoke arising from a point between “somebody's goin' to get plugged full of skinny and buck showed where lanky holes," murmured the ranch owner as he smith was improving each shining hour. watched them kicking up the dust in huge there had been no directions given, each clouds. man choosing his own position, yet each after they had forded a tributary of the was of strategic worth. billy protected rio penasco near the sacramento moun the horses, hopalong and skinny swept tains and had surmounted the opposite the knoll with a plunging fire, and lanky bank, hopalong spurred his horse to the and buck lay in the course the besieged top of a hummock and swept the plain would most likely take if they tried a dash. with pete's field glasses, which he had bor off to the east red barred them from rowed for the occasion, and returned to the creeping down the arroyo, and from where rest, who had kept on without slacking the pete was he could creep up to within sixty pace. as he took up his former position yards if he chose the right rocks. the he grunted “war-whoops," and unslung ranges varied from four hundred yards for his rifle, an example followed by the others. buck to sixty for pete, and the others the ponies were now running at top speed, averaged close to three hundred, which and as they shot over a rise their riders allowed very good shooting on both sides. saw their quarry a mile and a half in ad hopalong and skinny moved nearer to vance. one of the indians looked back each other for companionship, and as the and discharged his rifle in defiance, and it former raised his head to see what the now became a race worthy of the name others were doing he received a graze on -death fled from death. the fresher the ear. mounts of the cowboys steadily cut down “wow!” he yelled, rubbing the tingling the distance, and as the rifles of the pur member. suers began to speak, the hard-pressed two puffs of smoke floated up from the indians made for the smaller of two knolls, knoll, and skinny swore. the plain leading to the larger one being "where'd he get yu, fat?” asked hopa- too heavily strewn with bowlders to permit long. speed. "g'wan, don't get funny, son," replied as the fugitives settled down behind the skinny rocks that fringed the edge of their eleva jets of smoke arose from the north and tion a shot from one of them disabled east, where buck and red were stationed, billy's arm, but had no other effect than and pete was half way to the knoll. so to increase the score to be settled. the far he hadn't been hit as he dodged in and pursuers rode behind a rise and dismount out, and, emboldened by his luck, he made ed, from where, leaving their mounts pro a run of five yards and his sombrero was tected, they scattered out to surround the shot from his head. another dash and his knoll. empty holster was ripped from its support. hopalong, true to his curiosity, finally as he crouched behind a rock he heard a turned up on the highest point of the other yell from hopalong, and saw that interest- knoll, a spur to the range in the west, for he ed individual waving his sombrero to cheer always wanted to see all he could. skinny, him on. an angry pang! from the knoll due to his fighting instinct, settled one hun caused that enthusiastic rooter to drop for dred yards to the north and on the same safety. spur. buck lay hidden behind an enor "locoed son-of-a-gun," complained mous bowlder eight hundred yards to the pete. “he'll shore git potted.” then he the outing magazine glanced at billy, who was the center of a rock. from the fuss emanating from several successive spurts of dust. hopalong's direction skinny knew that his “how's business, billy?” he called neighbor had been hit. pleasantly. “don't yu care, hoppy. i got th' cuss," "oh, they'll git me yet,” responded the he said consolingly. "where'd he git yu?" pessimist. “yu needn't git anxious. if he asked. that off buck wasn't so green he'd a had "in th' heart, yu pie-faced nuisance. me long ago. come over here an' corral this cussed "ya-hoo! pete! oh, pete!" called hop- bandage, an' gimme some water," snapped along, sticking his head out at one side and the injured man. grinning as the wondering object of his skinny wormed his way through the hail craned his neck to see what the mat thorny chaparral and bound up the shoul- ter was. der. “anything else?” he asked. “huh?" grunted pete, and then remem “yes. shoot that bunch of warts an' bering the distance he shouted, “what's blow that tobacco-eyed gila to cheyenne. th' matter?" this here's worse than the time we cleaned "got any cigarettes?” asked hopalong. out th' c outfit!” then he kicked the “yud-n sheep!” said pete, and turn dead toad and swore at the sun. ing back to work, he drove a . into a “close yore yap; yore worse than a kid ! yellow moccasin. anybody'd think yu never got plugged hopalong began to itch and he saw that afore," said skinny indignantly. he was near an ant-hill. then the cactus "i can cuss all i wants," replied hopa- at his right boomed out mournfully and a long, proving his assertion as he grabbed hole appeared in it. he fired at the smoke his gun and fired at the dead indian. a and a yell informed him that he had made bullet whined above his head and skinny a hit. "go 'way!" he complained as a fired at the smoke. he peeped out and green fly buzzed past his nose. then he saw that his friends were getting nearer scratched each leg with the foot of the to the knoll. other and squirmed incessantly, kicking "they's closin' in now. we'll soon be out with both feet at once. a warning, gittin' home," he reported. metallic whir-r-r! on his left caused him hopalong looked out in time to see buck to yank them in again, and, turning his make a dash for a bowlder that lay ten head quickly, he had the pleasure of lopping yards in front of him, which he reached in off the head of a rattlesnake with his colt's. safety. lanky also ran in and pete added "glad yu wasn't a copperhead," he ex five more yards to his advance. buck claimed. “somebody had ought a shot made another dash, but leaped into the that fool noah. dn th' ants!” he air, and, coming down as if from an in- drowned, with a jet of tobacco juice, a gila tentional high jump, staggered and stum- monster that was staring at him, and took bled for a few paces and then fell flat, a savage delight in its frantic efforts to rolling over and over toward the shelter bury itself. of a split rock, where he lay quiet. a leer- soon he heard skinny swear and he sung ing red face peered over the rocks on the out: “what's th’ matter, skinny? git knoll, but the whoop of exultation was cut plugged again?" short, for red's rifle cracked and the war- “naw, bugs-ain't they h- ?" plaint rior rolled down the steep bank, where ively asked his friend. another shot from the same gun settled “they ain't none over here. . what kind him beyond question. of bugs?” hopalong choked and, turning his face “sufferin' moses, i ain't no bugologist! away, angrily dashed his knuckles into his all kinds!” eyes. “d-n 'em! d-n 'em! they've but hopalong got it at last. he had got buck! they've got buck, d-n 'em! found tobacco and rolled a cigarette and, they've got buck, skinny! good old in reaching for a match, exposed his buck! they've got him! jimmy's gone, shoulder to a shot that broke his collar jo johnny's plugged and now buck's gone! bone. skinny's rifle cracked in reply, and come on!” he sobbed in a frenzy of ven- the offending brave rolled out from behind geance. “come on, skinny! we'll tear bar range yarns their cussed hides into a deeper red than the struggling man and strapped hopalong they are now! oh, d-n it, i can't see with his belt to the base of a honey-mes- where's my gun?" he groped for the quite that grew at his side. rifle and fought skinny when the latter, "hold still now, an' let that bandage red-eyed but cool, endeavored to restrain alone. yu allus goes off th' range when him. “lemme go,.curse yu! don't yu yu gets plugged," he complained. he cut know they got buck? lemme go!" down a cactus and poured the sap over the “down! red's got th' skunk. yu can't wounded man's face, causing him to gurgle do nothin'—they'd drop yu afore yu took and look around. his eyes had a sane look five steps! red's got him, i tell yu! do now and skinny slid off his chest. yu want me to lick yu! we'll pay 'em "git that-belt loose: i ain't-no cow,” with th' coals of h- if you'll keep yore brokenly blazed out the picketed hopa- head!” exclaimed skinny, throwing the long. skinny did so, handed the irate man crazed man heavily. his colts and returned to his own post, from musical tones, rising and falling in weird where he fired twice, reporting the shots. octaves, whining pityingly, diabolically; "i'm tryin' to get him on th' glance- sobbing in a fascinating monotone and th’ first one went high an' th other fell slobbering in ragged chords; calling as flat," he explained. they swept over the plain, always calling hopalong listened eagerly, for this was and exhorting, they mingled in barbaric shooting that he could appreciate. “lem- discord with the defiant barks of the six me see,” he commanded. skinny dragged shooters and the inquiring cracks of the him over to a crack and settled down for winchesters. high up in the air several another try. specks sailed and drifted, more coming "where is he, skinny?” asked hopa- up rapidly from all directions. buzzards long know well where food can be found. "behind that second big one. no, over as hopalong leaned back against a rock on this here side. see that smooth gran- he was hit in the thigh by a ricochet that ite? if i can get her there on th' right spot tore its way out, whirling like a circular he'll shore know it.” he aimed carefully saw, a span above where it entered. the and fired. wound was very nasty, being ripped twice through pete's glasses hopalong saw a the size made by an ordinary shot, and it leaden splotch appear on the rock and he bled profusely. skinny crawled over and notified the marksman that he was shoot- attended to it, making a tourniquet of his ing high. "put her on that bump closer neck-kerchief and bandaging it with a strip down,” he suggested. skinny did so and torn from his shirt. another yell reached their ears. “yore shore lucky, yu are,” he grumbled “that's a dandy. yore shore all right, as he made his way back to his post, where yu old cuss," complimented hopalong, he vented his rancor by emptying the semi elated at the success of the experiment. depleted magazine of his winchester at the skinny fired again and a brown arm knoll. flopped out into sight. another shot hopalong began to sing and shout and struck it and it jerked as though it were he talked of jimmy and his childhood, lifeless. interspersing the broken narrative with "he's cashed. see how she jumped? choice selections as sung in the music halls like a rope,” remarked skinny with a of leavenworth and abilene. he wound grin. the arm lay quiet. up by yelling and struggling, and skinny pete had gained his last cover and was had his hands full in holding him. all eyes and colts. lanky was also very “hopalong! cassidy! come out of close in and was intently watching one that! keep quiet-yu'll shore get plugged particular rock. several shots echoed if yu don't stop that plungin'. for god's from the far side of the knoll and they sake, did yu hear that?" a bullet vi knew that red was all right. billy was ciously hissed between them and flattened covering a cluster of rocks that protruded out on a near-by rock; others cut their way above the others and, as they looked, his through the chaparral to the sound of rifle rang out and the last defender leaped falling twigs, and skinny threw himself on down and disappeared in the chaparral. the outing magazine he wore yellow trousers and an old boiled in order to mask the movements of their shirt. venturesome friends, intending, also, to "by-an’-by, by all that's bad!” yelled drive by-and-by toward them so that he hopalong. "th' measly coyote! an' would be the one to get picked off as he me a-fillin' his ornery hide with liquor. advanced. well, they'll have to find him all over several shots rang out in quick suc- again, now," he complained, astounded by cession on the knoll and the chaparral be- the revelation. he fired into the chapar came agitated. several more shots sound- ral to express his pugnacious disgust and ed from the depths of the thicket, and a scared out a huge tarantula, which alighted mounted indian dashed out of the northern on skinny's chaps, crawling rapidly toward edge and headed in buck's direction. his the unconscious man's neck. hopalong's course would take him close to buck, whom face hardened and he slowly covered the he had seen fall, and would let him escape insect and fired, driving it into the sand, at a point midway between red and skin- torn and lifeless. the bullet touched the ny, as lanky was on the knoll, and the leathern garment and skinny remonstrat range was very far to allow effective shoot- ed, knowing that hopalong was in no con ing by these two. dition for fancy shooting. red saw him leave the chaparral, and in "huh!” exclaimed hopalong. “that his haste to reload jammed the cartridge, was a tarantula what i plugged. he was and by-and-by swept on toward tempo- headin' for yore neck," he explained, watch rary safety, with red dancing in a parox- ing the chaparral with apprehension. ysm of rage, swelling his vocabulary with “go 'way, was it? bully for yu!” ex words he had forgotten existed. claimed skinny, tarantulas being placed at by-and-by, rising to his full height in par with rattlesnakes, and he considered the saddle, turned and wiggled his fingers that he had been saved from a horrible at the frenzied red and made several other death. “thought yu said they wasn't no signs that the cowboy was in the humor to bugs over here,” he added in an aggrieved appreciate to the fullest extent. then he tone. turned and shook his rifle at the marks- “they wasn't none. yu brought 'em. men on the larger knoll, whose best shots i only had th' main show-gilas, rattlers kicked up the dust full fifty yards too short. an’ toads,” he replied, and then added, the pony was sweeping toward the reser- “ain't it cussed hot up here?” vation and friends only fifteen miles away, “she is. yu won't have no cinch and by-and-by knew that once among the ridin' home with that leg. yu better take mountains he would be on equal footing, my cayuse-he's busted more in yourn,” at least, with his enemies. as he passed responded skinny the rock behind which buck lay sprawled "yore cayuse is at th’ cross bar o, yu on his face, he uttered a piercing whoop wall-eyed pirute.' of triumph and leaned forward on his po- “shore 'nuff. funny how a feller for ny's neck. twenty leaps farther, and the gets sometimes. lemme alone now, they's spiteful crack of an unerring rifle echoed goin' to git by-an’-by. pete an' lanky from where the foreman was painfully sup- has just went in after him." porting himself on his elbows. the pony that was what had occurred. the two swept on in a spurt of nerve-racking speed, impatient punchers had grown tired of but alone. by-and-by shrieked again and waiting, and risked what might easily have crashed heavily to the ground, where he been death in order to hasten matters. rolled inertly and then lay still. men like the others kept up a rapid fire, directed at buck are dangerous until their hearts have the far end of the chaparral on the knoll, ceased to beat. winkler ashore iv.-the heathen chinaman by gouverneur morris illustration by frederic dorr steele w chen i sold the its. when the spirits have all departed farm and went they sends out for more. the only person to new york,” present as don't get drunk is the corpse. said winkler, “i and that would if it weren't dead.' had nearer four “is it a funeral, bumble?' i asks. thousand dol “for the corpse,' says bumble. lars than three. “and who's the corpse this time?' but it is pain "'it's a male baby of mixed parentage,' ful to recollect says bumble. what i done “and who puts up the liquor?' says i. with it, or rather “'the lifelong friends of the diseased,' what i didn't says bumble. done. and what "make a long story short, bumble,' says i'm goin' to tell , ‘and tell me what's what.' you, sir, hap “so he told me, sir, as there were a girl pened before of them parts-meanin' the bowery-had found out that married a chink, or chinaman, sir, and bumble were been delivered in due time of a male infant. perfidious. we the chink's name were ah chi (you say it was pardoners like a sneeze, sir), and while he were in san to go into the francisco on business connected with his liquor business, tong, or club, the infant, while asleep in its “the chink were still in his bumble and me, bed, is blowed upon by a change of weather corner, smokin'." and when the and dies of bronichal penoima. in the time come there were only one pardoner left absence of ah chi, the girl, being irish, (that were me), and no money to buy the allows to hold a wake, and she hires a dance license or the stock. bumble were a plaus- hall to have it in, and invites her fambly ible imposture with a smooth face and a and her friends and her friends' friends, clean shirt, and a billycock hat no higher which were the degree in which bumble in the crown than the lid of a saucepan, and me was related to the corpse. so we which he wore over his left ear so as to liquored up at a couple of saloons and at- expose the shiny black curls over his right. tended. him and me was hand and glove. “have you ever been at a prize fight, “one day bumble says to me, 'winkie,' sir, when the audience is disagreed with the he says, 'there's goin' to be a rousin’ wake referee's disprision? wolumes of bellig- in these parts.' inent sounds greeted us on the threshold, “what's a wake, bumble?' says i, for but mingled with them was the wailin' of were new to society. women who could hold no more. the "a wake, winkie,' says bumble, 'is a most of the guests was heavin' and climbin’ gathering together of earnest men and and shoutin' to get at the bar, but them as women to make merry with departing spir- was newly arrived went first to where the the outing magazine mother were standin', with a handkerchief not feel her, and you'd a swore he were deaf, in one hand and a quart bottle in the other, for he did not hear her. when she had at the head of the casket (which were white howled herself out she fell foamin' and and ribbony and some thumb-marked) to senseless to the floor. ah chi never looked; egspress their heartfelt solicitations. she he passed on. he passed the casket with- were a good-lookin' girl, sir, three parts out a look, and he went into a far corner drunk, and sputtering tears at every pour. of the room, and set down. then he took "while bumble were egschangin' the out a kind of pipe that had a long fat stem passes of the day, so to speak, with the like a walkin'-stick, and a bowl no bigger pore beriffed woman, i took and looked at than the end of your little finger, and begun the infant in the casket. to smoke. that were the only sign of life “it were very little, sir, and yellow, and he give. its pore little slant eyes was shet tight, and “the guests begun then to make a dret- it had a long upper lip, and that were the ful glamor, and pride themselves with only way it showed the irish in it. the more whiskey, and say they never seed rest were all chink — nothin' to show sech heartless unfeelin' behavior, and for whether it were dead or sleepin' or listenin' two cents they'd stamp on his forrin belly to what were goin' on. till he were dead. but ah chi never “and where,' bumble were sayin' to the quivered an eyelash, which now that i mother, ‘is your good man, my dear?' think, he didn't have any to quiver. he “he's on his way home, pore sufferer,' set and he smoked, and his eyes was those says she, wipin' of her streamin' eyes, ‘and of a dead man—they didn't look and they i must bear my sorrers alone.' didn't wink; and his body was as still as "with that she give a dretful lurch, and the infant's in the casket. bumble steadied her. “just there, sir, what with the raw “'sorrer,' he says werry mournful, whiskey i had drunk and the dretful ass- 'sorrer, my dear, wisits us all sooner or foneer in that place, i had to go into a later. sorrer has wisited winkie and me, back room. i stayed out nearly half an and with your leave we'll ask to be eg hour, and while i hung out of the winder, scused whiles we steps over to the bar and the shouts and howls in the room i had left drowns it.' died down to nothin', and you'd have said “by the time we had fought our way to the buildin' were empty. the bar, sir, all of the girl's fambly and “then i went back resolved to drink no many of the invited guests was lyin' down. more. the room looked like a shamble, the room were misty with tabacker smoke sir; for men and women lay in heaps, and and there was halus about the gas jets, for the floor were afloot with whiskey. only the afternoon were dark. it were then one man were on his feet. he were a that ah chi, the father of the dead infant, policeman, sir, off duty, and he walked up returned suttenly from his travels. there and down very solemn, swingin' his club, were a lull for a minut in the storm of and if he saw a man or a woman give a sign lambent rations and everybody that could of life he stopped werry solemn and adjured see looked at him, and them as couldn't them to do their duty and clubbed them see turned their heads and tried to look. over the head. his back were turned egsept that his eyes was open, you couldn't when i come in, and by the time he had have said, sir, if he were dead or sleepin'. turned round, i were scrunched against the he crossed the room like a yeller ghost, wall, as dead to look at as the next man. lookin' neither to right nor to left. when the chink were still in his corner, smokin'. he were three parts acrost the mother he hadn't moved a muscle. pretty soon seed him, and with a dretful howl she run the policeman went and stood in front of and threw her arms about his long yaller the chink, swayin' and shakin' his club. neck. but the chink never moved nor saw. he “he stood still while she handled him, sat and smoked. that were all. then still as one of them well-dressed figgers in the policeman fetched a dretful sigh and clothes-store winders. you'd a swore he fell full length on his back. i were afraid were blind, for he did not see her, and you'd he would come to life again, and so i didn't a swore he were made of wood, for he did move, sir, but i watched the chink. and winkler ashore i see his eyes begin to dart this way and that he had out his pipe and smoked and that, the way a rat's would if he were in the smoked. middle of a room and cats was guardin' the “bumble were the last to lay down. he egsits. i didn't see what he done with his fetched a parting kick at the chink, which pipe, sir. it were in his hand one minut missed by two foot and threw bumble flat and the next it were nowhere, and he were on his back. in which persition he slept. on his feet stealin' toward the casket. he “i wanted to sleep, sir, but i couldn't. were alive now in every inch, and his eyes if i closed my eyes i'd see the chink dippin' never rested from dartin' till he were along- his yeller hands into the casket and horrors side the casket. i can't say why, sir, but would shake me. i had no guess as to what it were horrible to see him come to life and he wanted to do with the infant, but i dart with his eyes, and when he suttenly knowed the stampin' and kickin' were less dipped his skinny yeller hands into the cas than he deserved for touchin' of it. ket and hove the dead infant out, i fetched "i watched him for a long time, but he a screech. didn't make a move-jest sat and smoked “he dropped the infant so that it were like a dead man; but after maybe an hour half in and half out of the casket, and his pipe disappeared and he begun to dart slipped for his corner quick and quiet, the his eyes this way and that. then, all of a way a whip-lash travels on a horse's back. sutten, he picked up an empty bottle and but he weren't quick enough. for before slung it crashin' against the wall. the i knowed how it happened there was a noise would have wakened the dead. but swarm of howlin' men and women over nobody moved hand or foot. him, stampin' and kickin. foremost of "and with that the chink must of been them were bumble, and his expestations satisfied that there were no shammin', for he was dretful to hear. they stamped and picked himself up, dartin' with his eyes, and kicked that chink till they was sick and slipped back to the casket. i didn't yell tired, and one by one they left off and this time when he took the infant in his staggered to the bar or lay down where they yeller hands, but just watched. and what was. the chink were feelin' pretty sick, i do you think he did, sir? he held the baby guess, but he picked himself up and set against his breast, sir, and rocked with it, back in his corner like a dead man, only and burst into a storm of weepin’.” wielnet fitting out out for the season by a. j. kenealy photographs by byron t the young and ardent yachtsman's formal opening of the sport. this is all fancies should turn in the spring- very well so far as the opening of the big time to thoughts of his saucy craft. yacht clubs and the going into commission i am not such a churl as to suggest that he of the larger steam yachts and the great should give his lady-love the cold shoulder cruising schooners, cutters and yawls are and neglect her altogether. it has, how concerned. it is different, however, with ever, been my experience that the yankee the small fry, the modest craft in which girl has sufficient gumption and nous to her owner takes his pleasure single-handed, look after herself in the way of fitting out or ventures out in the congenial company for the summer season; while a boat, if left of a trusty chum or two on a week-end to her own devices, acquires dry rot and cruise. other kinds of rot and goes to the dogs in fitting out a small craft for the sea- generally. that is, unless she has the kind son's work much will depend upon the care and considerate care of her owner. the with which she was laid up for the winter. yachting cræsus, he with the coffers of gold the boat, at the end of the season, should and steel-clad vaults plethoric with bonds have been hauled out and so protected as and shares of fabulous value, may depend to keep rain or snow from penetrating her upon the vicarious care of the men on his interior, while at the same time given ade- payroll for the condition of his yacht when quate ventilation to keep her sweet and the fashionable time for the sport comes clean and to guard against the danger of round. but the average dweller on the dry rot-a most insidious disease which at- earth is compelled by the stringency of his tacks the stoutest timbers and causes them cash box or the emptiness of his purse to to crumble like punk. dry rot is caused exercise wide-awake caution and economy by want of ventilation. many yachts by in the adjustment of his expenses. this fault have to be rebuilt or exten- personally, i take great delight in potter- sively repaired. like mildew in sails, dry ing about a boat in the early spring time, rot can be prevented only by increasing repairing where needed alow and aloft, so vigilance combined with perfect ventila- that when she goes into commission i know tion. there is no preparation in existence of my own knowledge that in hull and in that will render wood impervious to injury rigging she is sound and fit and ready to from dry rot. when once it attacks tim- withstand the best as well as the worst that ber the affected part must be cut out and she may encounter in the way of weather. renewed. if an inch of the decayed wood it is gratifying to an old sailor to realize is left it will spread like gangrene to the that the yachtsman of north america, new timber. thus, when buying a second- fresh water and salt, is becoming every hand boat, it is well to have her examined year more enthusiastic in his devotion to by an expert to see whether she is affected his favorite sport. this is proved by his by dry rot. if so, she is a boat that pru- ever-growing tendency to fit his craft out dence recommends a purchaser to beware early and lay her up later than was his of and shun. should your craft unfortu- custom a few years ago. fashion has de nately have contracted this disease, i creed that memorial day should mark the recommend heroic measures. replace the scraping the mast, preparatory to a fresh coat of varnish. take everything out of her that is movable. affected parts with sound wood, and in if there is a stove in the cabin start a fire future take care that proper ventilation in it and let it get good and hot, while at shall prevent a recurrence of the ailment. the same time the windsail is doing its let us hope, however, that due care has healthful work of drying and ventilating. prevented the inroad of dry rot into any then rig the pump if you have one, if not part of your boat's hull. in order to over at any rate free your craft from water. haul her thoroughly she should be hauled when the pump “sucks” use small sponges out high and dry on the beach, and be so and squeegees until the boat is thoroughly well supported by shores under the bilges dry. do not be in too great a hurry to that she rests as nearly as possible on an begin the work of painting, for a coat of even keel—this to avoid strains. rig a paint has a habit of peeling off and blister- windsail and trim it so that a fresh current ing unless the surface to which it is applied of air circulates through the craft, opening is perfectly dry and smooth at the time of hatches, skylights and portholes to aid in application. this prime requisite of fitting out. take should expense be not a matter of prime everything out of her that comes under the importance enamel paint is to be recom- classification of a movable. expose every mended for interior work. it dries hard, article to fresh air and sunlight. then looks well and is easily cleaned. a capital clean the boat thoroughly outside and in substitute for enamel paint may be found side, being lavish with elbow grease fore in white lead or white zinc mixed to a and aft as well as athwartships. hot water proper consistency with equal parts of raw and good soap, with a little soda, will be linseed oil and spar varnish, with a dash found necessary to take the grime off, and of blue paint to take off the ghastly tint every part of the interior should be sub of the white lead or zinc as it comes crude jected to a good and hard scrub. fresh from the can. strain the paint through water should be used with a lavish hand in mosquito netting. be careful not to have this cleansing operation, and all rough spots your paint too thick nor too thin and to smoothed off with pumice stone so as to apply it with common sense and discre- leave a proper surface for the new paint. tion, so that when it dries you may not be r peen aspa see that every repair is done thoroughly. ashamed to look it in the face. paint al varnish. it is always well to place the ways with the grain of the wood, taking varnish can in a bucket of hot water to only a small quantity on your brush at a take the chill off before using it. the time, laying it on smoothly, not in daubs, or warmth makes it more penetrative and it patches. stir every few minutes. a man dries harder and quicker. with the average amount of gumption will while on this topic let me warn the pick up more about painting from watching inexperienced from diluting varnish with a painter at work for a few minutes than linseed oil, turpentine, kerosene or any by reading whole treatises on the subject other liquid. never leave the varnish can by sea lawyers and such. this too without in a cold cellar, and do your varnishing if undergoing the risk of being bored to death. possible on a dry warm day with a north- one thing, however, should be insisted on. west breeze blowing. if you varnish in lay the paint on the wood the right side damp weather in a southerly wind and up, and apply it with discretion and evenly. moist atmosphere the result may be dis- two coats are, as a rule, necessary. do appointing, and the varnish may dry with not apply the second coat until the first is a bluish scum on its surface like the bloom thoroughly dry and has begun to harden. on a ripe plum, marring the lustrous beauty the second coat should be so put on as to of the finished work and impairing the conceal any imperfections in the first coat, quality of the varnish as a preservative. as evident from too glaring hairstrokes as a general axiom, do not paint or varnish showing athwartships instead of fore-and- your boat in damp weather. aft. as soon as the paint and varnish of the when the interior paint work has had interior are dry you can tackle the out- its second coat and is dry there may per side of the boat. white is the fashionable haps remain certain parts of the wood in tint nowadays from the water line up to natural finish. these should have had the gunwale or rail. use pumice stone dili- old varnish removed by scraping and sand- gently, and take care that the surface you papering until perfectly smooth and bright. are about to paint is perfectly clean and then they should be coated with spar smooth and dry before you begin work. the outing magazine unless these conditions are closely observed followed: take one pound of red lead, the result will be the reverse of satisfactory. four ounces of copper bronze powder, the fresh water should in every case be used same weights of arsenic, chrome yellow and to remove incrustations of salt from every paris blue, one pint of liquid dryers, one part of a boat which it is intended to var pint of boiled linseed oil and one pint of nish or cover with paint or oil finish. the spar varnish. mix thoroughly. if too last-named preparation i do not recom thick, add spar varnish or oil until of the mend for outside work. in fact, where proper consistency to flow freely from the wood is to keep its natural tint on any kind brush. strain through two layers of mos- of floating craft i recommend spar varnish quito wire-netting and apply. it will dry undiluted, but warmed before it is applied. a fine copper color and is as good as the usual brand of oil finish is not at all any high-priced paint manufactured, so far fitted for any kind of marine work. salt as appearance, smoothness and durability air affects it and it never seems to dry hard are concerned. some owners paint the with a luster on it, such as is the case with outside of their yachts black. a reliable first-class brands of spar varnish. mixture follows: to six pounds of best if cotton or oakum is found protruding black paint add one pound of dark blue from the seams, replace it with calking iron paint and half a pint of liquid dryers. mix and mallet, using these tools with discre with equal quantities of raw and boiled lin- tion, not driving in the cotton or oakum seed oil until of the proper consistency. too hard, but only just hard enough to strain carefully and add one pint of spar keep the seams watertight. i would not varnish. this is a durable glossy paint counsel the amateur to pay the seams after which will give satisfaction. it should be calking either with pitch or marine glue. remembered that white paint is superior the result might not be altogether satisfac to black paint for the hot weather of these tory. a shipwright's hand is needed for a latitudes, and that a craft painted white deft finish, and as a general rule the am is much cooler on a hot day than a black ateur is not a success with either calk- that is why the craft engaged in ing iron or pitch ladle. each art requires the west india trade are generally painted the master touch of the skilled artificer. white; also, black paint has a habit of blis- so let the cobbler stick to his last and the tering if exposed to a hot sun while being cook to the foresheet! but though calk applied. you should therefore take advan- ing iron and pitch ladle may be too deep tage of any possible shade that may be for the ordinary amateur, the scraping of available so that the fierce rays of the sun the pitch from the seams and the proper may not strike the surface while the process smoothing of the outside of the hull are of painting is under way. do not apply a tasks that the ordinary specimen of the second coat until the first coat is dry and genus homo can tackle and execute with set. a moderate degree of success and efficacy if the craft is of small size unstep the if he is gifted with no more than the av mast, place it on trestles or other conven- erage number of thumbs on either hand. ient supports, and after stripping it clear if, however, all his fingers happen to be of rigging scrape it bright, then sandpaper thumbs, he should hire shipwrights and well, and when perfectly smooth give it a painters to do the work for him, and al coat of spar varnish applied with the chill ways get estimates of cost before starting taken off. all cracks before varnishing them in on the work. by all means give should be filled with marine glue. treat a wide berth to the mechanic who is un the gaff and boom in a similar fashion. willing to contract for a specific sum to when the varnish on the spars is dry and repair or paint a boat. hard, prepare the rigging for setting up. for painting a yacht's hull below the see that the eyes that go over the mast- water line there are several excellent com head are sound so far as chafes are con- positions in the market, all claiming to be cerned. if repairs are necessary, sew can- antifouling and weed proof. if you do not vas over the eyes or serve them over with care to try any prepared mixture, patented marline or spunyarn as preferred. either or otherwise, but prefer to mix your own method is good, the object being to prevent composition, the following recipe may be injury to the wire strands through chafing. fitting out for the season a little lead- assistance in colored paint this impor- should be ap- tant part of plied to the his craft's wire before equipment. sewing canvas bending over the eye sails is the or serving it, next process. —this to keep the careful water from sea man al- lodging and ways makes rusting the sure that his stay. the sails are thor- starboard oughly dry be- shroud goes fore being over the mast- placed in win- head first, then ter storage, the port one, and that the and last the place where foresta y. they are stor- with your ed is free standing rig- from damp. if ging thus in these salutary position and precautions snugly fitted, are neglected you may step mildew is cer- the mast and tain to attack set up the the canvas, rigging, keep- spoiling its ap- ing the spar pearance and perpendicular inducing de- with no rake cay. should either hauling out. way. mildew be after the present do not shrouds are set up the forestay should apply chemicals, either acid or caustic. be set taut. wire rope is now used for scrub the sail on both sides with good yel- the standing rigging of all craft, no mat low soap and fresh cold water, and then allow ter how small, and it is far superior to it to dry and bleach in the sun. remem- hempen cordage. it is also largely em ber that strong chemicals, while they may ployed for running rigging, a brand of what take out mildew stains, are sure to rot the is termed “flexible" wire being used for duck and are thus to be avoided. after throat and peak halyards of racing craft. the sails are in proper condition for bend- this variety is nearly as pliable as new ing, all holes repaired and chafes in the bolt hemp rope of the same tensile strength. ropes remedied and stains eradicated, reeve it is much lighter in weight than hemp or the throat and peak halyards and bend the manila. it cannot be belayed to a cleat mainsail. do not haul the head or the foot or a belaying pin. therefore a sufficient out too taut at first, especially if the sail is length of manila rope is spliced to the new. the sit of even a well-cut sail is often hauling end of the wire to insure its re ruined by howsing too hard on the head maining fast after once belayed. this when bending it to the gaff, or the foot when splice should not be attempted by a green bending to the jackstay on the boom. just horn. it is most difficult to make a neat hand taut is the proper tension. avoid job of it, and many professional riggers the use of a tackle to stretch the head or hesitate to tackle the task. i should coun foot before the sail is bent to gaff or boom. sel the green hand not to make experiments and when you hoist the sail for the first with wire rigging, but to secure competent time don't “sweat up" either throat or peak oiling the blocks. " calking the seams. the outing magazine halyards too tautly. a warm breeze is the sunrise next morning scrub well with best sail stretcher known, and a cruise on a brushes and sand until every stain of dirt, warm afternoon in a moderate breeze will grease and varnish is removed. flush with be better to trim a sail into shape than plenty of water, and take care that every pulling and lugging on it with a watch spot is washed off the outside of the boat. tackle or other purchase. do not go at a the deck should, when dry, be white as a new sail like a bull at a gate. be gentle hound's tooth, and may be varnished or not in your met hods, and your canvas will do as the owner prefers. if to be varnished credit to you instead of being an eyesore use only spar varnish, rejecting every sub- and a disgrace. remember that your boat stitute no matter how temptingly recom- will never do justice to herself with a bag mended, applying the coat with the chill gy mainsail. bear in mind also that nine taken off either by standing the can in the times out of ten a baggy mainsail is due sun or in a bucket of hot water. i suppose to too much stretching at head, foot, hoist it is needless to urge that the deck must and afterleech when first bent. this is a be carefully swept of dust before varnishing “wrinkle” that should not be disregarded. is begun, using a fine hair broom or even a do not have halyards too big to render feather duster. what is worth doing is through the sheaves of the blocks. manila worth doing well, and a dusty deck will rope swells much when wet with rain, fre spoil the appearance of the most lustrous quently to such an extent that the rope varnish. once more let me warn the tyro jams in the sheave and you cannot get the against applying varnish to a wet or damp sail down. in a stiff breeze this is always deck. an annoyance and sometimes a peril. see the cost of the materials necessary for that the blocks for the throat and peak fitting out a boat is moderate. it is skilled halyards are fitted with patent sheaves and labor that is expensive. yet if you think are in thorough working order before you that you are not competent to do the work reeve the halyards. yourself i should not advise you to under- when your running rigging is rove and take the task. call in the aid of the pro- your sails bent and furled with the covers fessional boat painter and rigger. explain on and made fast, the deck should receive to him exactly what you want done, the a thorough cleansing. in all probability number of coats of paint inside and outside, there will be more or less spotting by paint the kind of varnish to be used and so forth. on the planks, and the varnish applied last let him give you an estimate in writing. autumn when your craft was laid up for if the price is satisfactory let him go ahead the winter must be removed. a solution of -promptly. and so soon as the work is american potash-five pounds to a gallon done to your pleasure, hand him his check. of rain water, boiled until the potash is dis don't keep him waiting too long for his solved should be allowed to cool. with money. the laborer is worthy of his hire, a mop apply to the deck at sundown, taking and there is no good excuse for withholding care that every plank is treated. before from a man that which he has earned. - _ hy.s.watson drawing by hy. s. watson. the horse trade-willing to be tempted. "lands the whole story by edward marshall was a misanthrope as i stood upon the later, as we ate, he told me how to fish bank of the creek. in the first place, those waters, and told me well, as i after- the fish would not bite. in the second ward found out. at supper time—for he place, i had just discovered that i had been remained with me for the balance of the given a perforated dollar when i had paid day—he told me how to cook my victims for my railway ticket. but my bitter re nicely. the train by which i was to return flections were interrupted by a pleasant cityward was not due until near midnight; voice coming from behind a bunch of alders. so (while he directed me) i built a rousing "i hope, sir,” said the voice, “that i do camp fire, and stretched myself upon a not disturb your fishing.” bed of soft, dry leaves beside it. he had i looked up quickly and saw a face peer aroused my curiosity, and i questioned him ing at me through the gray-green leaves. as we smoked my very good cigars. “oh, no,” said i. “there is no work hereabouts at my he came from behind his verdant screen trade," he replied. and i observed that, although his face was “no?" said i, inquiringly. plainly that of a genial man, it was quite “no,” said he. "no, indeed. times as plainly that of a hungry man. geniality are hard and so no one needs my services. and hunger do not harmonize. the fish i am in something of a hole myself, and, were not likely to show greater eagerness while that is my profession, -" until the sun had dropped a bit to west “while what is your profession?" i inter- ward. i had more luncheon in my basket rupted to inquire. than i could eat alone. i liked company. "i am a hole digger,” he replied, and as “won't you join me in a little noon-day he spoke his eyes grew dreamy. "this bite?” i asked. section seems to be sufficiently supplied. - the whole story by—" so. > everybody hereabouts already has a hole, had his water. that post-hole made a and is, from what i learn, occupying it. it bang-up well. i had been swindled out of is a poverty-stricken section, this year. fourteen-fifty!" “ha!” i laughed heartily. “but,” said i, not quite following his “that is the reason why i am a single tale, “you don't mean to tell me that man, and, therefore, have no one to share he had changed the location of that hole and lighten this sad poverty of mine,” said he. “that and the fact that i hate puns.” “precisely," he interrupted. “quite “what have puns to do with it?" i asked. "it would sound either like a pun or i smoked, being incapable of speech just talking shop for me to ask a maid to join then. me in the bonds of hole-y matrimony, don't “this is a hard country for a poor man, you see?” said he. he at length continued, “but that was the “ha!” i laughed again, this time not so meanest trick but one that i ever had heartily. played on me." “but the fact that every one in this sec “tell me,” i said earnestly. tion is in a financial hole is not a merry “another farmer,” he replied, “engaged jest,” said he, quite seriously, “else i should me to dig seven post-holes. i did them in not have been so overjoyed to see in you one day, for at that time i was in need of a chance for two free meals. not,” he money and worked hard. after i had fin- added hastily, “that i have not had much ished he called me in to supper. i ate quite pleasure from your mere society, but can alone and thought nothing of that, but when, dor compels me to admit that food was having finished, i went out again, i found what i needed and appreciated most. we how mean he had been.” are made that way-carnal, carnal, carnal. "what had he done?” i asked, deeply we cannot help it. and to continue con interested. cerning the depression in my line of work, “he called me over to the spot where i even when i can get a job the hard times had been working,” said my new friend, in make my employer much more particular an injured voice, "and, pointing to the than he would be in comfortable seasons, ground, said crossly: thus cutting down the profit. also, some "well, when you goin' to begin work on times, this money market stringency them there holes--them seven post-holes?' or something else-makes men who hire "why-'i began, and started to point me quite unscrupulous. recently, for in out to him that i had finished up the job, stance, i asked a man for work. at first but stopped when i saw that every one of he considered the digging of a well, but my them was gone. charge for that is fifteen dollars, while i "i was horribly puzzled. i wondered if will dig a post-hole for fifty cents. he told i could be going mad, and all sorts of things me to dig a post-hole. being grateful to like that. of course, there was nothing him for giving me employment of whatever for it except for me to dig them all again. kind i dug a splendid post-hole, wide and afterward i found out all the details of deep. it was a lulu. he came and looked the scurvy trick which he had played on me. with his son-in-law's help those holes "why,' said he, 'you've done just as had been taken up and carried to a pasture much work on it as if it had been a well. at some distance. later they used them pity it's so dry here. over at the hilltop in building a wire fence. by this strategy you'd have struck water at that depth.' they obtained two sets for one small pay- “he paid me the fifty cents and told me ment. it was cruel!” that i might spend the night out in his he paused. i could not have spoken barn. about two a.m. i heard a noise as had i wished, and, anyway, i did not feel of oxen pulling heavily, but was weary and like talking at the moment. slept in spite of it. in the morning i found "it is a scurvy trick to steal a poor, how the man had cheated me.” hard-working artisan's new post-holes!" "how?" i inquired. he exclaimed at length. “he had pulled the post-hole to the hill "it is, indeed," said i, and swallowed top with his ox team. of course, then he hard, for his tale was difficult to swallow. at it. the outing magazine again we smoked in silence for a time. that whether the hole was there or not, "it had been dreadfully hot, too, that it had become his property after i had day,” he said, by and by. “i remember finished digging it and had been his to that in order to avoid sunstroke i had had watch. he refused point-blank to pay to begin at the bottom of those holes and me, however, and this made me so angry work up. it had made the job much that i refused to dig another hole for him. harder, and, therefore, it made his act in i took payment for the remaining holes cheating me much meaner. to begin at and started off, determined that i would the bottom and work up is much the most find the missing hole and bring it back to difficult way there is of digging post him. i was resolved that he should pay holes.” for that particular hole, even if it should i blinked at him, somewhat dazzled by turn out that its journey in the breeze had the glitter of this new idea. damaged it a little. it was wretched judg- "and even after i had dug a second ment on my part.” set,” he went on, “that farmer was not “did-did you ever find the hole?" i satisfied. i made an error in one measure thickly asked. ment and dug that hole too deep. he “oh, yes,” said he, “but at a great dis- made me pull it up and saw it off. he tance from the place where i had dug it. would not let me take the surplus from you see, empty holes are very light and can the top, although the upper end would be carried by the merest zephyr, once they have been much more easily accessible are lifted into air. the wind had wafted than the bottom was. he made me pull this one away across the county line, and, the whole hole up and saw the bottom as ill luck would have it, had finally lodged off.” it in the street before the residence of the i started to make comment, for i felt county judge. on starting for the court- grievously confused, but he interrupted house in the morning he had stepped into me. it and received a compound fracture of the “and then,” said he, “in my excite left leg below the knee. it was just after ment i made another error. in the re- he had been pulled out-a most unfortu- insertion of the hole i got it wrong end to, nate moment-when i appeared to claim and was thus unable to insert the post. the hole. the judge had me placed in cus- the bottom of the hole (now uppermost) tody for owning dangerous vacancies, and of course was closed, you know. it took ordered me and my property to be taken me quite an hour to rectify this error and into court.” get the hole up-ended in the ground." “what happened then?” i asked. “you turned it?" i timidly inquired. “i would have been convicted and fined he nodded. heavily, no doubt,” the stranger answered "there was nothing else to do,” said he. gravely, “had i not had a happy thought, "i turned it; but i was annoyed and care just in the nick of time. it really was a less, and this brought me another piece of clever ruse. nimbly i climbed into the miserable fortune. i forgot to anchor it. hole and then they could not find me.” iii luck pursued me that day!" "i should have thought,” said i, after i maintained a stern, impassive silence. i had somewhat recovered from the pun, “i had begged the privilege of sleeping which, to do justice to him, i must say in his barn again that night,” he continued, was, i believe, inadvertent, "that they "for the extra work had wearied me and would have seen the hole and looked there i had finished late, although i had neg- lected to anchor that last hole. midnight “ah,” my new friend said, quite slyly, had come when, waking suddenly, i thought “i had thought of that, and, in order to of this, but, foolishly, i did not go out at avoid it, had quickly pulled the hole in once and rectify my error. i thought i after me. it was an old trick. similar could do it in the morning. but in the strategies are frequently mentioned in the night a high wind rose and blew that annals of our grandfathers.” loose hole quite away. when i learned of again he paused, but i could do nothing this i was utterly disgusted. i demanded to fill the conversational gap. at times payment before i left the premises, saying articulation is very difficult for me, and for you.” the whole story this was such a time. he went on with i did not stop to think about those caves his reminiscences. and the effect which they might have had “i once had a hole which kept me warm upon the firmness of the bottom of that all winter,” he remarked. hole. i had scarcely done a single pas seul “yes?” said i. upon my lofty perch when the thin sub- “and not only that,” said he, “but it stance broke beneath me. i had danced furnished me employment for a time, be the bottom out-or, rather, in-and col- sides. quite remunerative, too. i went lapse ensued. this spoiled the hole. my on the stage with it in vaudeville.” property was gone. escaped the sunshine “indeed?” said i. - lost the profits of the show, alas!" "i had spent the previous winter in the “you- -you were not injured by the south," he continued pleasantly, "where fall?" i asked, quite timidly. the sun shines bright on my old ken "fall?" said he, inquiringly. “there you know the rest of it-even in january. was no fall, although the mishap spoiled i got into a dreadful hole, dug for me by the hole entirely. how could there be a untoward circumstances. but a thought fall? have i not told you that the hole occurred to me which helped me out of it, was upside down when i broke through? and afterward i was not so foolish as to who ever heard of anybody falling from throw away the hole. so, having it on the bottom to the top of any hole? it can- hand, i filled it up with bright kentucky not be done. commit that fact to memory sunshine and took it northward. as an if you have not thought of it before. it exhibition, with a small act or so in ad may save bruises. when you see that you dition-i am very clever at a buck and are close upon a tumble reach forward, grab wing, and can even cut a pigeon wing the hole that threatens quickly, and turn when i am feeling well-it was popular. a it wrong end up. then you will merely hole full of real kentucky sunshine was a stub your toe on or run against it. you novelty in minnesota and in both dakotas can't fall into it. but you must be quick." in the winter. i made money. besides, there was an impressive silence as i through keeping close to my exhibit, i pondered deeply over this. never felt a chill all winter, although it was "i wholly spoiled that hole by my fool- a bitter, bitter season. i really kept al ish work that night,” he finally continued. most too warm, later on, for i had to stay “but, alas! i now am in another and one a little more than close to it. the man even less agreeable. it may be that i ap- ager skipped off with the cash and i was pear to you to be above ground. i am, in it! still, everything would have gone really, in a dickens of a hole this minute." all right, perhaps, until the spring time if, i spoke diffidently, asking: in my efforts to carry the show on alone, “would—would a dollar help you to i had not tried to do too much, one night. climb out?" “what reckless folly was it that you "i think that it might be of some as- yielded to?” i asked. sistance,” he replied. “silver dollars are “well, you see, he answered, “that so round, you know. some call them cart- hole originally came from 'way down in wheels, and one rigs pulleys upon wheels old kentucky, as i've told you. ken to pull out coal from mines, and mines are tucky is astonishingly under-run by caves. holes. is it a silver dollar?” the mammoth cave, you know, is there, i nodded. and there are countless minor caverns, “then i might use it as a part of the some of them unexplored and not denoted necessary hoisting apparatus," he informed on the maps. i must have been above a cave of some sort when i first obtained i held it out to him. he took it hur- this hole, for the bottom proved to be riedly. he went his way. i have never astonishingly thin. as i have told you, seen him since. the dollar was the one i tried to do too much one night. i re which had been given to me by that station versed the hole, and, while it stood upside agent. i have often wondered what my down upon the stage, i climbed it and be strange friend did with the hole which he gan to dance upon the wrong side of its must have found was in it when he tried to floor-if you know what i mean by that. spend it. me. a day’s work in the mounted police by lawrence mott an ny complaints?" round the farm, y' know!" and they both one of the mounted policemen chuckled. slid wearily from his saddle as he bert saunders was an old member of spoke. the n. w. m. p.* the years had grown on a november sky spread the cold yellow his broad back in the service, and, as he hues of a stormy sunset over the endless said, “i hain't no good for nawthin' else.” prairies, and a chill, strong wind mourned with gray hair and deep-set eyes that its desolate way through the horses' tails, were hardly to be seen behind fierce, bushy whistling around the corners of the squat eyebrows, saunders showed that if age ter's shed with a doleful whine that rose brings experience, he must have his full and fell monotonously. share of it. the other was a young man; a woman had come to the low door in tall, well built, a good horseman, with a answer to their halloo and the two men "good eye,” but old saunders would quiet- looked at her disconsolately. she rubbed ly suggest that “he was a leetle too quick.” her work-worn hands together nervously. “th' widder seems to hev sum'n on her "no ther hain't, leastways,” she hesi- mind,” bert remarked as they went back tated and looked keenly past the horses, to the house, “but 'tain't nawthin’excitin', seeking to pierce the winter's gloom that l'll bet; mabbe she's lost a calf, or mabbe lay heavy over the bare landscape, “least ol jim got some whiskey som'ere.” ways, none that i can tell on,” she con “set ye down, boys, set right down near, tinued, with a catch in her voice. “jim till i gets ye some vittles.” the old wom- ain't ter hum; ye'd best stay the night; an hurried about, pottering among the it's er goin' ter snow, i guess, by the kitchen implements, or rather makeshifts feelin'. yer kin stable yer critters down for them, and rattling vigorously in a huge in th' shed an’ welcome.” tin box that served as tea-bag, salt cellar, “i reckon we'd better, fred; it's a long meat holder and bread basket. thirty mile to old ned blake's, and i think “queer old place,” fred muttered, look- snow's a-comin,' too.” ing about as they stood by the fire. the other nodded and, still mounted, “yes,” saunders answered in a whisper, walked his horse toward the shed. the "an'ther used to be some queer doin's too, first speaker followed, leading his animal. when she” he jerked his thumb toward the long, rickety building was down in a the kitchen-“was a young 'oman.” little roll of the prairie, and as the two ap the inside of the main room was dark proached it a forlorn old hen cackled harsh and dingy with age and dirt. a huge ly, and a pig, disturbed by the sound of four-poster bed stood in one corner, the the horses' feet, grunted and rustled in blankets on it rolled up in a tangled heap, the straw. and the shabby, ragged pillows had evi- “who's the old gal, bert?" fred asked, dently been used as footstools. old cow- as he undid his girths, the horse playfully hide boots stuck out from beneath the bed, nibbling his shoulder. and overalls with a strange assortment of “sho, forgot ye warn't over this route clothes dangled ungracefully from pegs all yet; she's widder gleeson; a feller called about. the candles spluttered and flick- jim stephens lives yere, kinder helps * northwest mounted police. a day's work in the mounted police an- ered, giving out but faint, weak rays of something was wrong, and fred did know light that scarce illumined the long, narrow the old fellow well, having made many room. a ride and route with him; therefore he “thar, ye kin eat!” widow gleeson leaned forward eagerly. drew up the dangerously tottering stools, saunders turned the boot over and over. and seated herself on the edge of the bed "how long's jim had these yer boots?” while the two men began their supper. for “they bain't hisn!” the woman some minutes nothing was to be heard but swered quickly. the metallic clinking of the tinware, and “oh, ho! so they ain't jim's? did ye the gurgling sips saunders took of the hot ever see 'em afore?” tea. “um-mm,” and a strong negative "i'm den glad we're in here, instead shake of her head. of fightin' our way to blake's; listen to "looks like blood, don't it, bert?” that,” fred said then. “looks like blood an'es blood.” "gosh, yes!" saunders put the boot down. “we'll the threatened snow had come outside, look round a mite, widder.” brought by a gale of wind. the particles with stolid eyes the woman watched were hard frozen and battered viciously in them searching here and there, peering their million numbers against the walls, into dark corners, shaking old baggings while the wind screamed fitfully. when while the dust rose in clouds. supper was over the men got out their pipes "here's something!” fred called, and and smoked by the crackling fire, whose held up a red-stained block of wood that flames shot up the flue in straight, roaring he had found under the mess of plow lines, drawn by the fierce draught. chains and old metal. “no complaints, d'ye say, widder?” the older man examined it as carefully bert asked slowly, rubbing the tobacco as he had the boot, and again whistled fine between his palms. she fidgeted ner sharply to himself; the block he put by vously, then hesitated again, seemingly the boot. listening for something. “look furder, fred." they hunted and “nawthin' that i can tell on, but jim prodded in silence, then saunders turned he hain't been good ter me lately; hit me on his heel. with th' axe handle two weeks 'go, an' "looky here, widder, what you got 'gin cussed som'n arful becos i didn't have no jim?" whiskey; ye boys know thet since ye've the old woman seemed to shrivel and ben so sharp a-watchin' them fellers 'cross her eyes grew large and black. the line it's purty hard to get whiskey, “nawthen' 'cept he's cross an’ i'm sick ain't it, now?" she finished appealingly. o'him," she answered shortly. “yes, widder, we're lookin' arter 'em "h’m," and they searched again. purty close now, sure," and saunders “when's jim go 'way?” laughed; "it's tol’able hard ter run th’ "three days ago, jus' afore the last liquor over into canady now! wall, what snow.' about jim? what's he done?” the chance "where'd he go?” question told, and the old woman was “dunno; said as he was goin' ter rick- startled. son's, but he allus wuz a liar.” "how d'ye know?" she whispered. "h'm, rickson's; that's eighty mile by "don't, but i'm guessin'.” the trail,” saunders said more to himself “now, hoys, i don't know nawthin', but than for the benefit of the others. since i comed back from uncle jack's—i “how'd he go-ride?” went over thar when jim got c'ntanker’us, “yep, took th' horse, an' i kin stay here ye know- seed som'n funny 'bout h’ar; an' starve, or walk out, i s'pose!” look ahere!” they found nothing more, though the she reached down and pulled out one of search had been long and thorough. the cowhide boots. saunders examined "what do you think about it, bert?" the rough, worn leather carefully; then he "i hain't thought 'null yet; let ye know gave a short, sharp whistle. any one that in th' mornin'; better turn in now!" knew bert's ways would have realized that he pulled off the long service boots and the outing magazine stretched his feet gratefully to the fire. eyes to slits. the blue flame spluttered the old woman watched them a while into life, then came the yellow shine, and longer, then took a candle and crawled he saw the widow carefully light a candle slowly up the shaky ladder that led to the stub under cover of her hands. its light small attic over one end of the long room. came redly through the flesh of the fingers. “you boys kin hev the bed,” she called she looked a long time at the sleeping down. men, and the policeman felt his eyes twitch saunders looked at the mess of clothes. and jerk with the strain. then she turned "i guess not for mine, fred; i'll roll up her back and moved noiselessly to the far in the blankets right here.” end of the building. she stopped there, "the same for me!” fred got their looking back, and fred started at the ugly blankets from their saddle rolls they had expression on her face. she shook her brought in, and unfolded them on the gnarled fist at the two, then leaned over rough floor. they took off their coats, and began pulling and tugging at some of and these, with the long fur capotes, made the floor boards. now wide awake and excellent pillows. alert, fred sat up carefully under cover of when the candles were out, and the tiny the blanket and watched. at last she got glows at the ends of the wicks had vanished, one of the boards well up and drew a long the interior was dark save for the ember something from the bosom of her tattered glow, and silent save for the storm sounds dress. the policeman looked hard, but outside. could only see that it seemed black, and a gust on gust the fierce breaths shook piece of cloth. the old timbers till they creaked, drone on as slowly the woman dropped the thing drone came from the flue, and the bitter in the hole, lowered the board, quietly re- cold air found its way through the cracks placed the things that had been on it and in the floor, biting the men's faces as they turned to come back. quick as he was lay rolled in the warm, blue wool blankets. she saw fred drop. just then the door blew inward, burst instantly the candle went out and every- by a gust more powerful than the others. thing was quiet save for the weird sounds “damn, damn!” fred grumbled, as he of the wind. got up slowly to close it. he looked out he felt for his revolver, and was about first. it was a wild winter's night on the to call saunders, when the bar at the door prairie. in the faint snow sheen the short was violently pushed aside, the door itself distances were hazy and vague, laden with flew open, and he caught a fleeting glimpse hurtling masses of white. overhead the sky of a muffled figure sneaking out. was dark, but the heavy cloud banks were “halt there!” he shouted, but the wind black, and their dim shapes could faintly be forced the sound of his voice into his throat. seen tearing in great rent and split masses "w's matter?" saunders asked, sleepily. across the heavens. fred shivered as he “wake up, man, quick! something's pushed the boards into the aperture and wrong!" fastened it with a bar of wood. as though to the bugle call the other “the horses 'll catch it t'night,” he mut was out of the blankets and on his feet, tered as he curled up again. it seemed to revolver in hand. the two stood still for him that he was hardly asleep when some an instant in the darkness, the snow piling thing moving caught his attention. he coldly on the floor. lay quiet, listening intently, trying to lo “the old woman's skedaddled,” he called cate the sound. from his position he then, and hurried over to the corner where could just see the foot of the attic ladder he had seen her mysterious actions. as it was between him and the window; in his haste he broke match after match then a black something came between him trying to get a light. and the faint white reflection. it moved “take it easy, boy, take it easy!" aside. saunders followed him over. “th' old woman! what's she want?" "what's all this anyhow? what ye he whispered, his lips scarcely moving. doin'?” as fred hauled at the boards, toss- the dull scrape of a sulphur match came ing everything right and left. he got to him softly in answer, and he shut his them up and the light showed a dark, long a day's work in the mounted police go! ter hole dug in the earth. he leaned over, ye ain't fit to go on such a night as lowering the candle. this; ye'r a better man for it, but i'm "holy tickets, bert, look at that!" younger and you'll freeze 'thout your fur; the other craned his neck. “he hain't go back and wait. l'll find her if she's be- ben dead more'n two days neither!” he said tween here and blake's!” and he rode off, slowly; "she's done it, an' tried fer to set hearing saunders' curses but for an instant. us on this same pore feller, so's we'd go the latter turned against the flying snow rickson's ter-morrer an’ give her a chanst sheets. ter git out. the oľ varmint didn't expec' “he's a good un, jus' same,” he mut- us till next week. i tol'ye we were early tered. “gosh, it's d-n cold! i be- on this route. well, come on an' find her; lieve i must be gettin' old after all.” he she ain't far t'night; hidin' in the barn, mos' went back to the house and built up the likely. hell of a job to take her to the post, dead fire. now, ain't it?" so talking quietly, with meanwhile fred struggled on. little by the coolness of long years at this sort of little the horse recovered its strength and work, saunders calmly pulled on his boots moved faster, but the cold began to tell on while the younger man chafed at the delay. the man's body, damp from the exertion of “look out she don't shoot ye, fred; the run he had had. he got the horse may hev er gun,” he advised, as the two into a gallop and swung his arms viciously. with lowered heads went out into the fury “that's better," he whispered, as the of the night. flying scud showed brighter in the east. they reached the shed; the thatch door he kept on steadily and daylight grew: was wide open. the snow drifted worse and worse. the “she's in there all right,” saunders little horse labored badly, sank into a trot. stood at the entrance. “come out, ye and from that to a walk, hanging its head we've got ye, ye!” and licking the snow. no answer. then far ahead the policeman saw a slowly bert's anger grew, and he swore speck, and urged the horse to a trot again. at the black interior. “that's her," he said aloud in a few his voice echoed each time very faintly moments. in the straw-smelling place. the distance between them lessened. “le's go in an’ haul her out-come on!" there, astride of the other stolen mount, they went, and fred struck a light. was the old woman, her head and body “the horses!” he gasped. saunders wrapped in an indian rabbit-skin blanket; turned; the horses were gone! the horse was walking steadily along, she “out wi' ye quick, 'less ye want ter huddled in the saddle. she heard nothing walk! strike fer blake's, she won't go because of the noises of the wind till fred agin' this wind for rickson's, an' i don't reached her side. believe she kin manage them horses, not “halt!” both on 'em, anyhow!" she stuck her face out, saw him, and they floundered on to the trail, discern before the man could move, grabbed her ible only under the snow by its flatness, and bridle, jerked the horse off the trail and hurried along it as fast as they could. the galloped across the snow plains. snow hindered them more and more, piling he drew his revolver. against their legs and creeping up under “i'll shoot!” he yelled, but he might as their trousers, where it clung freezingly. well have thought it for all she heard. “there's one of 'em!” saunders shrieked, “by god, i will shoot!” he swore, and as a black object came in sight just off the took aim. “great tickets, can't i catch track. they came up to it; one of the her? i will !” and away he went, firing horses, and cleverly hobbled! the poor twice in the air to try to intimidate the brute stood there helpless, its mane and fleeing figure, but without success. his tail heavily laden with ice particles, the horse stumbled, gathered itself and stum- nostrils' edges solid and eyes tight frozen. bled again, and he saw that she would get when the hobble was cut it moved stiffly away from him. saunders started to mount. "get out "i'll have to shoot the horse. poor old o'that,” and fred shoved him aside; “i'll bill, but i'll have that woman, so help me!” ioo the outing magazine he drew up, took aim and fired. "here's a fine outfit," he said to him- "too low!” as a spit of snow rose be self. "a clear, good case; maybe stripes hind the other horse. if i land her at the post, and certain death bang! if i don't find the way!” “too far to the left!” he thought hard and an idea came. bang! he put the bridle rein over the horse's “got him!” as the brute staggered to head again, patted it, stroked its ice-hung and fro. muzzle. then he stood aside, and struck he moved on slowly and came up to the its back sharply with his hand. fugitive. the horse threw up its nose, hesitated, the ugly face peered at him through the then swerved sharp to the right and started blankets. to trot. fred ran behind, holding it lightly "i've got you now; get off that horse!" by the tail. on the animal went, its ears she did not move; he dismounted, grabbed pricked forward, life in its movements the blankets and yanked her off. where it had been sluggard and slow. another shot and the wounded beast sometimes walking, then trotting again, was dead. he patted the lifeless head as but always moving decisively, the horse it lay on the snow. kept on. the man was tired and the snow “poor old bill-good horse!” he said chafed his ankles and legs badly. his huskily; "you died for the service.” he body was warm, but his hands, feet and turned savagely. face pained severely. they came up over “now you walk, d'y hear? walk!" he a rise, and the long-familiar house stood waited. no move from the shape on the just beyond. crust. “thank god!” he muttered incoherently, "i'll kill yer if you don't get up!" and kissed the poor frozen muzzle again "ye dassent," she snarled then, speak and again. the animal seemed to under- ing for the first time. he coaxed, threat stand and tried to nip his hand. ened, promised-all to no end. saunders was waiting. then he picked her up, slung her over "ye got her?” was the first question. his saddle, fastened her there, stripped the “sure!” dead horse of its saddle and bridle and "where's my bill?” fastened them on his own. when fred told the story the old ser- “i'll have to walk; the hoss can't carry geant's face quivered hard, but, "a good both,” and so they started, he leading, horse was bill, an' many miles i've done bridle rein over his arm. the exercise wi' him!” was all he said. warmed him, as he was chilled through and he helped to undo the lashings, and the through and his ears were frozen. he blanketed figure dropped into his arms. rubbed snow on them as he went on. they “here, none o' that-stand up!” he proceeded thus for some time. let go and it fell inert. “funny i don't hit that trail!” he led “froze a mite, i guess.” the way to a snow rise. as far as he could saunders pulled aside the blankets. the see in the now full gray light were moving face he saw leered up at him white and clouds of snow; no flat anywhere, nothing lifeless, the eyes open and dull set. with but hills or hollows that appeared and van a curse he drew the blankets back. a ished between the squalls. short knife was driven in over the heart, “here, you,” he shook the mass in the and the old, worn hand was still fast to saddle roughly. “where are we?” the handle. “s'pose i'm goin' ter tell?” the cracked "d'ye know this?" he asked. voice answered fiercely. "god! no,” fred answered, “i saw “but we'll die out here—i'm lost!” nothing, 'cept when the horse started out “s'pose i care? they'll kill me at the right the blankets moved a trifle.” post fur killin' jim-what's the dif'rence?" “that's it, then; she knowed the way, “you admit murdering jim?” he shout and when she seed you was a-comin' right ed. she did this job; wouldn't that beat all? she nodded, as he could tell by the shak wall," he continued with a sigh, "it's all ing of the blankets. in the day's work!" the spirit of the of the olympian games by james b. connolly t \he first modern olympian cham was erected to the hero, and he might even pionships were held at athens ten be pensioned for life, and now and again years ago; and will anybody who the nation's poet felt sufficiently inspired was there ever forget the splendor and ap to compose odes to his greatness. the propriateness of the setting? and yet over pension money is gone and the statues and above that was not, after all, the mag- have crumbled, but the olympionic odes nificent spirit with which the men and have come down to us in all their lyric women of greece invested the occasion the beauty, and what else need the soul of finest thing about it? man care for? to understand what it meant to a as in the old days the olympic victor patriotic greek, one must bear in mind was of some note in the community, so, that it was like a reincarnation, an invo the present-day people of greece decided, cation of the gods, a living over again of was he worthy to be again. and here the the days when his country led the world power of the press was brought into play. in all the things the world held worthy, for months preceding the games every and a revival of the period when in the newspaper in greece seemed to be drum- young men were developed brain and body ming on that one note—the glory that was harmoniously; for if there was every stim their ancestors'-until at length was born ulation for him who would emulate the an all-absorbing desire for the recreated intellectually great — encouragement for olympic festival. at first there was some debate and orations, recitation of poetry discouragement because no structure suit- and presentation of the drama in historic able to the occasion was at hand; but the places and in the presence of the honored patriotic averoff offered to and did furnish leaders who were yet walking among the funds for a stadium to be built on the them--there was corresponding glory for banks of the ilissus, above the site of that the physically superior: constant practice stadium wherein the sacred festival was in bodily exercises, frequent athletic com last held in attica. and so, after fifteen petitions and, above all, the intense ex hundred years, they dug out the old yellow citement of the olympic games, which marble blocks that once were so white, and periodically aroused the populace to fren erected the present superb stadium, and zied enthusiasm. merely to glance at it is worth a year of in those great days, when the spirit of classical research in any dusty library here the citizens was nurtured by a system of at home. all white marble from track to education as much physical as mental, as upper walls, marble that gleams in the sun much emotional as intellectual, a youth like a dream of unsullied snow, and of a could hope to perform no more renowned capacity to seat seventy thousand people; feat than to win a prize at the olympic and above and around the inclosure, en- games. crowned in the temple was he compassing the white walls so closely as to then with a wreath of wild olive and re seem a continuation of the serried seats, turned in state to his native city, where, are the slopes of the same old hills whereon that he might not have to enter the city the multitude sat in the old days also. gates as an ordinary citizen, they breached seventy thousand inside, and another sev- the walls. quite often a marble statue enty or eighty thousand outside; an audi- ioi the outing magazine one ence that to set bounding a man's pulses tions were exchanged! if "viva!” cried when for the first time he comes out to group, “vive!” roared another, face it! “hoch!” boomed the germans, it was lately we have witnessed the building “hooray!” shrieked we, as loudly as any, of a few stadia here at home, and every we hope, for the honor of the flag, and now and again a well-meaning scribe arises continued to shriek as long as any other to dilate on the wonder of them. the best crowd would challenge. of ours seats thirty thousand people and is after a time they allowed us to leave for built of dull-gray cement laid over iron the hotel, to clean up, eat and turn in; girders; but before we write our limitations but early next morning--at four o'clock- down again let us hope that we shall take there they were again, never-ceasing cele- a look at the real thing over there in ath- brants, in the square beneath our windows, ens, and let us hope also that when our and now with brilliant bands playing universities decide to build another a com strange but stirring airs; and, when we mittee will be sent to inspect that rein went down to breakfast, it was to learn carnated model in athens, and having done that five thousand people were in line at that, allow only one with an appreciation the stadium to witness an installation that of the true spirit to design the copy. art was not to take place until two o'clock in and beauty, too, have their laws, and the afternoon. our morals of course not to suffer in the the opening of the games at the stadium process——why not serve them? was a solemn ceremony, as it should be can you imagine that seething city when after a lapse of fifteen centuries; but it the american team arrived on the eve of need not be detailed here. we might the first day of the games? we had been mention that the hymn composed for the sixteen days in traversing by land and occasion was impressively rendered by a water the something like six thousand band of three hundred pieces, and that miles. long before the ancient city could quite a little crowd had gathered one hun- possibly be in sight, we had heads out of dred and forty thousand somebody said the window of the coach. mind, we were —and that included there were a few young and in good physical condition, and, thousand titles — kings, queens, princes, as nothing feeds the senses like youth and princesses, grand-dukes, grand-duchesses, bodily luxuriance, we were aflame to get followed by just ordinary dukes and a view of the classic city. all that we had duchesses, and so on down to every-day ever read or heard of greece and all that baronets and their ladies. we had never read nor heard, but that was we undressed then and were rubbed in born within us, lay like white-heated strata little booths that led off a court wherein in the hotbeds of our imaginations. we might be heard all the languages of civiliza- were burning to see, and when it flashed tion, and one or two that we doubted were to view—the tumbled parthenon on the civilized. and by and by a herald came crest of the scarred acropolis, the one tem in and ta-ra-rummed stirringly, while out- ple of the one hill of all the pagan ages side in the arena we could hear his mate why-we said nothing. but when breath also ta-ra-rumming in stirring fashion. ing came easier-"athens!” we cried; and and we went out and looked that multitude that little word stood for all our years of in the face. one hundred and forty thou- thought, speech and subconscious reflection sand, did somebody say? we could easily on the glory of things that were. believe it. and when that throng crowded to our the trials in the one hundred meters were coach and gave us little flags, one of their run; and the americans won their heats, country and one of our own, and we pinned but they were counted only for trial heats them to our coats, and joined joyously in -the first final had yet to be won. it was the procession that straightway paraded on directly, the trials and final in the classic the streets, and with (we trust) humility greek jump—the triple leap, as they call received the plaudits of the multitudes that it, or the hop, step and jump, or two hops crowded sidewalks, doorways, balconies, and jump, as we call it—and the glorified roofs! and afterward at the chamber of youth of a dozen nations took their turns, deputies, where the international felicita until it simmered down to a greek, a the spirit of the olympian games frenchman and an american. and the and later in the afternoon that first final winning of it by the american led up victor was joined by another, also an to an occasion that he has been able since american, robert garrett, who had won to recollect without greatly straining his the discus throwing. and these two, gar- faculties. the one hundred and forty thou rett and connolly, having won what, next sand throats roared a greeting, and the one to the marathon race, were held to be the hundred and forty thousand pairs of eyes, important events, were elevated to high as nearly as he could count, focused them pinnacles, and that evening, among other selves on his exalted person. and then things, enjoyed the inestimable pleasure when his name went up on the board, to of viewing their own portraits under fes- the crest of the hills outside the multitude toons and halos of red, white and blue re-echoed it, and to the truck of the lofty incandescents; and on subsequent days staff was hoisted the flag of his country they were joined by other victors, burke, and there remained, while that beloved hoyt, curtis and blake of boston, and band of three hundred pieces in the middle lane, tyler and jamieson of princeton, of the stadium-and such a band! they who all agreed that truly it was a propi- should have been admitted to full american tious occasion. citizenship on the spot--began to play the and yet the real strength of the people's star spangled banner as if it were their enthusiasm was not revealed until a greek own--why, it was a moment to inspire! victor appeared. then it was that loues the young fellow was seeing things through spiridon, a peasant of maroussi, came into a purple haze by then, and the haze deep- his own. beside his reception when he ened and glowed when over in a corner a trotted into the stadium after his long run group of countrymen, officers and sailors from marathon to athens, that of the others of a warship in port and the not-to-be was like the chill of early dawn to the heat mistaken tourists, suddenly flashed into of high noon. normal, well-balanced citi- view a lot of american flags and split the zens simply went crazy, and did not think classic air with an assortment of american fit to apologize for their conduct afterward. yells. but, eyes for the flag aloft and ears and what was the temper of this greek to the strain below, he stood to attention, peasant to whom all, from the king down, and not until the shouts had died away made obeisance? he was a poor man, mark did he regain his balance, when, thoroughly you, who had to live most economically satisfied that the heir to all the ages was to live at all. they offered him twenty- at that moment treading the air of the five thousand francs in gold-twenty-five stadium in spiked shoes, he made his way thousand francs in a country where a stout across the field and through the tunnel to laborer earns less than two francs a day. the dressing room, and there graciously he refused it. to sustain the honor of posed for four artists and any number of hellas was enough for loues spiridon, he photographers. said, and only asked that he be given a there were numerous minor attentions, water privilege in his native town of ma- such as the clutching en route of the girdle roussi, that he be allowed every morning of the hero's bath robe by those who were to fill his goatskins in athens, and drive pleased to be able to say afterward that his little team to his own little village and they had done so; and there were other there sell such of the water as his own people who blocked his way and asked to people might care to buy from him. the be allowed to gaze into his face, and, he money? they set it aside for the physical benignly permitting, they did so, and in- training of the boys of loues' village. variably shouted “nike!” after his dis there was something of spirit there; appearing miraculous form. and there and is it to be wondered at that, after were delicate addresses by yet others who breathing the atmosphere of that atavistic pointed him out—men and women-and occasion, the entire american team signed smiled and smiled, and one or two auda a petition that thereafter the olympic cious but undeniably sincere ones, albeit championships be contested only in greece? they were bearded, who threw arms around only in that country, in their opinion, him and kissed him ecstatically on both could the people become imbued with the cheeks. true reverence for the old traditions. the outing magazine subsequent events would seem to bear another bit of work by some officials out the conclusions of that meeting of was an attempt to erase from the perform- athletes in . .. in that year, be it re ance, because their club had no strong membered, only a limited number of amer- entry for it, an event that is a classical icans took part. it was difficult to awake olympic tradition. our materialists, the men with money to it is because of these things that we spare, to a sense of the importance of the should hail the meet at athens once more. revival, and hence it was that only one we have good men interested in athletics university, princeton, was officially rep here in america. some of them are on resented, and that largely because of the the american committee, and, not using public spirit shown by one of its under athletics for business or social purposes, graduates, robert garrett, who furnished men who will go to any expenditure of the money which enabled the team to go, time and energy to advance a great cause. and who himself won the discus throwing; and if they would but make the journey and only one athletic association, boston, to the coming games it would mean much, which gave the scheme an athletic club for no matter how much inborn enthusiasm indorsement; and one lone entry, connolly, they may have for clean athletics, they who went of his own initiative, without will need to see its expression in greece to club or college indorsement of any kind. experience it in full tide. and, returning but four years later, when the games from there, we are sure that sport in gen- were held in paris, things were different. eral will receive a fresh and lasting im- it was a great rush then to secure some of pulse, and we too may attain to that spirit the “rake-off,” which here was to be had which the victorious american athletes in the form of advertising and glory for at athens, after they had time to recover the clubs and colleges, social attention and from the first enlargement of self-esteem, newspaper mention for the officials. the after the praise and the huzzas, the ban- politics of clubs and officials played each queting and glorifying were past, had to its own little part. the predominant idea admit: that the real thing was the people of seemed to be the glorification of this or greece that made that festival of a that association, the scoring of points for wondrous occasion. it was a spirit that no the club or college, and the cabling of the other modern nation could have generated same across the ocean. an athletic meet for an athletic festival, and it is that spirit ing that reminded one of a brewery picnic which the olympic games of the future in jones' wood was the result. there was may be made to serve. it is that spirit one particular entry from one particular which is the thing; and, if it be not born club; an agreeable chap himself, but of no in us, let us try to absorb it; and if we are more fitness at an olympic meet than a not equal to that, then at least, to learn circus acrobat. there were inserted three to appreciate it; and, if we come to do no events, and he went through his stunts with more, to at least pass on the appreciation an accompaniment of friendly club mem of it to our descendants, by whom it may bers to fill out the entry list, while the be made to lead to so much; for no country continental athletes and those americans can find greater use for it than our own, who had competed in the athens meet which is standing now, awake and eager, stood by and wondered what it all had to where old greece once slept-on the thresh- do with an olympic meet. old of the world's leadership. the view-point by caspar whitney s mr. caspar whitney's editorial com he will be ready to write about the coun- ment touching events in the out-door world try, not as a second-handed gleaner of is omitted because he sailed for south books already made, but with a rarely america last month to complete an under intimate and picturesque knowledge of the taking which will have required four trips people and the lives they lead from co- to that vastness of country during the last lombia to the argentine. few years. he is somewhere in the region that the editor of the outing maga- of the upper orinoco, which is more of an zine should consider it necessary to make unchartered wilderness than any part of four trips to south america before he is darkest africa. satisfied with his material, is in keeping in his previous south american expe- 'with a policy which is fairly dotting the ditions, he has traversed the mountains, map with writers and artists in search of plains, rivers and coasts as thoroughly as vivid and exclusive material. dillon wal- any living traveler. he was not content, lace, for one, is in labrador, carrying out, however, to call the task finished until he with a fine and dogged courage, the ex- should have explored a region in which ploration enterprise which was left un- dwells an indian race wholly unknown to finished when hubbard lost his life. this white men. when he returns he will be time wallace has found success, and he equipped to write of one of the few mys will be returning with a great big thrilling terious corners of the modern world, and story before long. about a people hitherto known only in the robert dunn, well known to readers of rumors of a few traders. the magazine, has gone into the southwest mr. whitney has gone inland without to gather material for a series of articles an imposing "expedition." in the barren about the men and deeds of the vanishing grounds, or in the jungles of the malaysia, american frontier. he learned to cut down his equipment and the artists who illustrate the articles escort to that minimum which is known and stories which make this the most gen- only to the veteran explorer and hunter. uinely and typically american magazine, he fitted himself for such work by an are not asked to find their ideas in their outdoor life of eight years in his own studios. they are sent to the regions they country, before he undertook foreign ex love best to paint pictures about, and their ploration. he knows his america from work means something. canada to mexico, the west and the south prominent illustrators who are working west, as seen from the saddle. since then far afield for this magazine during the his wanderings have led him to every in present year are n. c. wyeth in the rock- teresting land except africa, where he ies; f. c. schoonover in the canadian plans to go next year. northwest; oliver kemp on the labrador when he is done with south america, coast; and ernest haskell in california. the photograph published in our february issue on page , entitled "youthful aspirations," and showing two young mountaineers in the grand cañon of arizona, was from a stereograph copyright, , by messrs. underwood & underwood. credit was omitted through a clerical oversight. -the editor. school and college world by ralph d. paine yale the passing of the freshman hero 'varsity player is a prodigy because so few of his own class gain these laurels. he ale, harvard and princeton have, at cannot be severely blamed for thinking athletics the chief end of undergraduate a factor of the university athletic team, endeavor, and he is handicapped at the thus falling in line with the precedent set start by a twisted view-point. for them by the conference colleges of the in the days before the college athlete was middle west. this is the most sensible as resplendent a hero as he has since be- and commendable result so far threshed come, i recall a lad who rowed on a uni- out from the confusion of tentative ath versity crew in his freshman year. he letic reforms. it recognizes the fact that was the only freshman of the eight, and no amount of restrictive supervision will the first to make the boat in several years. make young men over again. the ameri it happened that his crew was most soundly can schoolboy, and collegian will always licked over the new london course, and, take his athletic honors very seriously, and being a freshman, he took upon himself will set his heart on winning the game be all blame for the fell disaster. he dared cause it is his nature so to do. no matter not return to his college town except under how much the style of football play is cover of darkness, and the thought upper- changed, the youth of a strong body and most in his tormenting thoughts was that a stout heart will play it with no less zeal, the whole college must share his view and nor will his comrades of the campus pay therefore was probably in wait to lynch him smaller tribute of esteem. him on the campus. his summer vacation the idea of "sport" proclaimed by many was blighted, for whenever he saw a man agitated reformers would do away with from his college he dodged like a hunted the spirit of competition as far as pos thing, and life held no comfort for him sible. they would have young america anywhere. he seriously considered wheth- kick a football or bat a ball or pull an oar er or not he should return for sophomore for "exercise,” confining all its contests to year, and was amazed, when he did slink its own grounds; in other words, to adopt back in the autumn, to find that his friends as far as possible the systems of english had not forsaken him. foolish and child- schools and universities. it is true that ish, you may say, but the spirit that moved intracollegiate rivalries can be vastly de him to think as he did had been hammered veloped among our students to the profit into him through the long stress of the of all concerned; yet, on the other hand, training season, and because he was a fresh- class lines are becoming more and more man he took it all as gospel and believed loosely drawn as the university spirit that defeat was lasting disgrace. spreads among our institutions, and for again, if a boy of uncommon physique this reason it is difficult to foster a natural and courage is lucky enough to make the spirit of rivalry cut on the english pattern, football team in his first autumn at college, in which the group of colleges provides the he is ambitious to try for the crew or the organization for rivalries within the uni nine or the track team in the spring. the versity. american college athletics cannot college needs him, he thinks, and he wants thrive without a certain amount of inter double or triple honors that he may be even collegiate competition, and this means the more exceptionalfor prowess. and he would support of 'varsity teams” picked and be a poor american if he were not ambitious trained for these contests. to bag all the prizes in sight. as a result it the prominence in campus life achieved may be that he is in training the whole nine by a member of one of these teams does months of his first year on the campus, not often spoil the average athlete who has which is mighty bad for the freshman, who been in college long enough to get his bear must be working at and thinking about ings and adjust himself to the varied round athletics a good part of every day. of duties and diversions. it has been a while the reformers are busy, they grave menace, however, to the freshman might do well to forbid any athlete to suddenly set upon the pinnacle of athletic belong to more than one university team fame, and if he made his 'varsity team, it among the “major sports.” this is at was often at a cost to his mental, moral least worth debating, but as for the fresh- and physical welfare. in the first place, man, he has no business on any team whose he becomes a hero by virtue of making the training period runs into months and whose team at all; but more than this, he is victories are the chief events of the season peculiarly exalted in that the freshman in the campus life. school and college world as a this new rule is going to work for good also among the preparatory schools. the disgraceful scramble among the colleges for schoolboy talent will be scorched if not killed. until now, the pressure brought upon every lad in his teens who showed any prowess on track or field has been amazing as it was disgusting. the worst offenders have been graduates of colleges whose fair names they have brought into disrepute. nowhere has the demoralizing influence of the "athletic alumnus' been more notable than among the schoolboys of this country. he is old enough to know better, and he is presumed to have a manly view-point, but if he had gone deliberately to work to wreck the athletics of his alma mater, he could not be more successful than by just these means which he has used so blindly and recklessly. college sport will never be reformed by the “athletic alumnus, who must be classed with the professional coach as a menace to the integrity and wholesome conduct of campus athletics. ask the head masters and principals of the leading preparatory schools, east and west, who has most bedeviled and upset their boys with arguments and inducements and flat- teries, and they will tell you "the ath- letic graduate. the pernicious activity of these persons will hardly find it worth while to persuade boys to enter a particular college in which they are barred from prominence in athletics through freshman year. and we will hear less about the “prep school star” who passes his entrance examinations for one college and changes his mind and his destination over night. another long step toward better con- ditions was made in the decision of yale, harvard and princeton to limit member- ship of 'varsity teams to the undergraduate or strict collegian. yale was too far ahead of the times when she adopted this rule in , and it was in force only one year. it paved the way, however, for the four year rule," and the provision that a stu- dent matriculating from another college was not eligible for a team until after one year of residence. this latest and far more sweeping pro- hibition is based upon common sense and expediency apart from the question of its influence upon athletic morale. an amer- ican student in the professional or graduate schools of a university is there to specialize for his life's work. it is presumed that his playtime is past. he is getting up into the twenties, and if he is fitting him- self for professional life, there is a long, hard road ahead of him before he can win a foothold. if he gives two or three hours or more a day to training for an athletic team, with the mental absorption involved, he is neglecting his university work. no longer can he serve two mas- ters. look at the swarm of professional foot- ball coaches who have been turned out from our colleges and universities. the majority of them were graduated from the professional schools, or were "special" or graduate students, hanging on by the skin of their teeth as long as possible in order to play football the full four years. result, they were not fitted to be good doc- tors or good lawyers, nor good for any- thing else than to teach football. there is no disgrace in teaching athletics, but it is a confession of failure in the pur- pose for which a man goes to college. and what is worse, the majority of these hired college football coaches have failed at their own business. they have persist- ently fought the reforms in the game which every unbiased bystander has been demanding for years. they have been stupid obstructionists, fighting only for their own selfish ends, afraid that a simpler, less arduous game might throw them out of their jobs. and because their very occupation proves that they learned noth- ing else in college than athletics, they don't know where else to turn for a live- lihood. by eliminating the athlete of the grad- uate and professional schools, the american college world will be purged of a demoral- izing element which has been hanging on to the edge of things, shifting from one institution to another, taking up dentistry when it failed to keep up in medicine, or vice versa. the prize fighter is a more estimable member of the community than these ambitionless pseudo-students who have been returning to their colleges to play football or baseball, when they ought to be trying to do a man's work in the world. a monstrosity in college rowing several professional rowing coaches iden- tified with the poughkeepsie regatta are booming the “octopede," as they call it. this is a racing shell manned with sculls, each man pulling a pair of oars instead of the one long sweep which has been used in eight-oared racing for almost a century. the stewards of the intercollegiate rowing association which is in charge of the rac- ing at poughkeepsie have favored the in- novation so far as to include a “qua- druple scull” race in the next regatta, and have discussed the question of “octopede" competition. the crusade in favor of this aquatic monstrosity has been backed by the pro- fessionals ten eyck of syracuse, ellis ward of pennsylvania, and dempsey of georgetown. the idea is not a new one, however, as for years the professional sin- gle sculler has been fond of maintaining that eight of his kind could beat eight col- lege oarsmen rowing with the twelve-foot sweeps. and the present agitation is a professional movement, pure and simple, and as such it is to be scanned most care- fully by the college athletic world at large. the outing magazine it is easy to muster many reasons why crew rowing with sculls should be frowned upon, while its defenders can make out a poor case at best. it is claimed that eight men rowing with sculls need far less severe training than under the old system, and that the strain in racing is much less arduous. it is also alleged that sweep rowing makes men lop- sided, while the professional style would develop them more symmetrically. as a matter of fact college oarsmen are not lop- sided, and are a well-developed and well- set-up lot of young men. they are taught to row with straight backs and to throw their shoulders into their stroke. they keep their heads erect and handle their bodies with such dexterous care that they exercise every muscle. a slouchy man cannot make a good oarsman in an eight, for he must be on the alert every instant to help balance the skittish shell and keep it running smoothly on its bottom. for these reasons and because of the powerful leg work employed to co-operate with shoulders and arms and back, your college oar is gaining strength in every inch of him from the back of his neck to his toes. his is the sport which ranks next after swimming for all-round development. sculling, or rowing with two oars, is a slouchy, slovenly looking exercise for a crew of men. the single-sculler, as a rule, pulls along with his back hunched like father time, his head between his shoul- ders, his chin almost scraping his knees, and most of his effort concentrated in an ungainly yank with his arms at the end of his stroke. the tendency of his ex- ercise is to make him hollow-chested and round-shouldered unless he borrows some- thing from the theory of the college oars- there are single-scullers who pay some regard to form, but they are the ex- ception, and the common precept is to row whatever way seems easiest. the principles of successful oarsmanship in racing shells as practiced in this country are largely founded upon the experience of many generations of rowing men in england. there are certain essential rules which must be followed, and a winning style to hold its pre-eminence must be worked out along the fundamental lines. single-scull rowing has always been a 'go as you please" matter, and always will be. the few professional coaches who advo- cate its adoption among our colleges are swayed by motives which are open to the charge of self-seeking. they are old scull- ers who learned their trade when single- scull racing among professionals was a popular sport. they killed it as profes- sional foot-racing was killed. most of the men who turned from sculling to coach- ing college and other amateur eights had to master new theories, and they were slow to learn, through defeat, that their scull- ing ideas must be thrown overboard if they were to turn out fast crews. the men among them who stand out as successful coaches, like courtney of cor- nell and kennedy of yale, gripped the fact that they had lots to learn and they set about mastering the science of rowing with zeal and intelligence. others, like ten eyck and ellis ward, turned out one or two fast eights which won because of phenomenal material and in spite of the stroke they rowed, and they were thereby convinced that their antiquated theories were sound. they would like a change because they are outclassed by courtney at present, and with a "new deal" they might hope to get on a more equal footing. yale and harvard will stick to sweeps, of course, and courtney is brainy enough to uphold the science which he has mas- tered. he will be backed up by all the grad- uate oarsmen in the country who are in- terested in the poughkeepsie regatta. nor will coach goodwin of columbia, nor o'dea of wisconsin, join the radicals. this means that the "octopede" will not sup- plant the eight-oared crew. it may be, however, that a majority of these profes- sional coaches may prevail so that an "octopede" race will be added to the poughkeepsie fixtures, and meantime they will make a beginning with the “quadru- ple” sculls which are already scheduled. the men who will train for this event will be of no use as material for the uni- versity boat. scarcity of trained material has been the greatest handicap in ameri- can college rowing. here is a plan which will withdraw from the already limited field a number of young men sufficiently interested in rowing to turn out and train. they will be rowing, after one pattern, while the real crew is following another style. any young man strong enough to handle a pair of sculls can be taught to row with a twelve-foot oar, and the strain of the latter has injured so few oarsmen in england and america that the severity of the exercise is an argument that can be flung aside. to surrender to this handful of profes- sional coaches would be to say to the old college oarsman: 'your kind of rowing calls for too much brains and endurance and harmony of interaction, and we want to try something easy and slouchy because our coaches haven't intelligence enough to learn your way of doing things.' the greatest boon that could come to college rowing—and the same is true of football—would be to devise a style of pastime unknown to the professional tal- ent, and thereafter keep the secret in the college world. men. iio the outing magazine you will find the work that needs doing- plenty of it-on every hand. our school grounds and church lots are, as a general thing, bare and unattractive. they ought not to be so. they need not be so, after a little, if the neighborhood improvement society takes them in hand. trees and shrubs, properly arranged, will make at- tractive places of them. flowers will give them a grace and beauty that will appeal to every one interested, and arouse in them a desire to do still more in the way of im- provement. that is one of the beauties of an organization for neighborhood better- ment. it grows by what it does, and the more it does the more it wants to do. hand in hand with a society of this kind goes the work of making good roads. i know of several communities in which im- provement of the roads has been done al- most wholly by the local improvement society. in looking about it for work it saw the sorry condition of the public thor- oughfares, and it concluded, quite logically, that improvement which stops at the home and the public place is only partial improve- ment; and thus it has come about that the work of improving the roads was taken up by the society which was organized, orig- inally, for quite another purpose. such a society, acting in harmony with the road commissioner of each district, can do a great deal more than hired help will, be- cause it is actuated by a desire for real im- provement that is above a mere dollars- and-cents consideration. pride of home and home interests will furnish the en- thusiasm which spurs them on to better and more thorough work than can be ob- tained from the ordinary day-laborer, whose only incentive is the money he can earn by it. plants, or large ones. a good cultivator will enable a man to do as much work in an hour as he can do with a hoe in a day, and do it better and easier. every garden, however, should have its hoe. the best one i have ever used is v- shaped, with the handle-socket in the cen- ter of the triangle. the point of the blade allows one to work close to a small plant without the danger of cutting it off- something that cannot be done easily with the ordinary hoe. by reversing the tool the wide blade comes into play. but so superior is the pointed end for nearly all kinds of garden work that one soon comes to depend upon the use of it. a weeding-hook belongs in every garden outfit. it is a little claw-shaped tool that doesn't look as if it amounted to much, but you will find it capable of doing more work in ten minutes than can be done with the fingers in an hour, and doing it well. a wheelbarrow is one of the necessities of every garden. the most sensible wheel- barrow i have ever had any experience with is one in which the wheel is nearly in the center. of course this elevates the box to an unusual height, but the extra labor in- volved in filling the box is more than made up for in the ease of the barrow's operation. in the ordinary barrow, the wheel, being at one end, obliges us to lift and sustain the whole load. but with the barrow having its wheel in the center, heavy lifting is done away with to a great extent and the prin- cipal part of our labor is in pushing it ahead, the wheel taking all the strain of the load. the vegetable and flower garden garden tools in the north, but little can be done in the way of gardening, this month, but we can get ready for it. soil having good drainage will be in a condition to plow shortly after the early spring rains. if all the work that can be done in april is done then, much of the usual worry of may can be avoided. in laying out the garden, aim to do it in such a manner as to allow the use of ma- chinery in caring for it. put everything in rows instead of beds, so far as possible. if your garden is a large one, plan for using a horse-cultivator in it. this will make it necessary to have more space between the rows than where a hand-cultivator is used. let the rows run lengthwise, if possible, to save frequent turning. every garden ought to have a seed-sow- ing machine; one that can be adjusted to all kinds of seeds, and arranged for thick or thin sowing. every gardener ought also to have a hand-cultivator, for use where the horse-cultivator would hardly fit in. these cultivators have several sets of teeth, which are adjustable for the smallest small fruit of all kinds—asparagus, pie- plant and horseradish-should be set out this month. in planting asparagus, have the soil well- drained and heavily manured, and dug up to a depth of at least eighteen inches. set the plants about that distance apart, and let their crowns be at least four inches be- low the surface. two- or three-year-old plants are preferable to seedlings. con- sult the catalogues and satisfy yourself as to the merits of the best varieties before ordering, remembering always that it pays to get the best. pie-plant likes a deep, rich soil. if mod- erately moist, all the better. set the roots at least three feet apart. horseradish should be given a corner by itself, and con- fined to it, or it will spread so rapidly as to soon become a nuisance. in a rich soil it will be much tenderer and finer-flavored than in a poor one. peas do best if sowed early in the season. they are not injured by frost all the manure about the barn ought to be disposed of this month. use the oldest of it for the garden. sweet-peas ought to be planted in april. do this as soon as the ground is in a con- dition to work easily. my method is this: making the country home iii i make a trench about five inches deep. i such shrubs as produce flowers on the sow the seed quite thickly in the bottom of early growth of the season can be pruned it, and cover with about an inch of fine soil, this month, but such as bear flowers from pressing it down firmly. when the plants buds formed last fall-like the lilac-must have grown to be two or three inches tall, i not be cut back until after the flowering draw in about an inch more of the soil period, as a shortening of their branches thrown out from the trench, and continue would destroy the spring's crop of bloom. to do this, from time to time, until all the therefore, study the habits of your shrubs soil is disposed of. in this way i get the before applying the pruning-knife. roses plants started early in the season, while it should be pruned rather sharply. in thin- is cool and cool weather seems conducive ning the bushes cut away the oldest wood. to the healthy growth of the seedling—and by doing this each season, we keep them it also gets the roots so deep in the ground constantly renewing themselves. - apply that the plants are not likely to suffer when manure liberally, digging it in well about hot weather comes. their roots. the rose is a strong feeder, hardy border plants can be set out this and cannot do itself justice unless given a month to good advantage. old clumps, good deal of rich food. which have not been disturbed for years, all the plants about the home grounds will be greatly benefited by a division of should be well manured. bear in mind their roots. plant the roots taken away in that their last season's growth used up a rich soil, and fill in the empty spaces about large share of the nutriment in the soil in the old plants with well-rotted manure. which they stand, and this loss must be shrubs can be set out now. in planting made good if we expect them to do satis- them, be sure to make the hole for them so factory work this season. a plant not large that their roots can be spread out properly fed soon becomes a plant not naturally. if you want a shrub to sulk, worth keeping dig a hole for it precisely as you would for if you are planning to set out shrubbery a fence-post, and crowd its roots into this on the lawn — don't do it! a lawn is hole in the most unnatural manner possi- spoiled by cluttering up its surface with ble. peonies ought not to be disturbed in shrubs. its dignity is destroyed. put spring, for they are quick to resent any your shrubs at the side of the lot and in the interference with their roots. i have often rear, but leave the space before the house known large, old plants to blast nearly all unscarred by spade. their buds because a few of their roots had let me advise you to plant your shrubs been removed early in the season. i con- in groups, instead of scattering them about, sider fall the proper time for transplanting and making single specimens of them. this flower, unless you are willing to go grouping them makes them vastly more without flowers for a season. old lily-of effective, provided you familiarize yourself the-valley beds can be greatly improved sufficiently with the habit of each kind, by digging out large clumps, here and there, before planting, that you are able to put and filling the spaces with strong manure. the larger ones in the rear of the low-grow- next season your plants will be larger and ing sorts. on no account set them in finer in every way. do not be in a hurry straight rows. aim to imitate nature's to uncover the roses. wait until the latter way of doing these things. she never part of the month, when the danger from makes the mistake of primness and for- severe cold spells seems past. when un- mality. covered too soon, they are often injured this is the month in which to set out quite as much by relapses into winter trees. do you need any about the house? weather as they would have been by being if so, decide which kinds will fit in best left unprotected in winter. nothing is with the general features of the place be- gained by haste in this matter, and often fore buying. a tree that would look well everything is lost. on a large lawn is spoiled if planted in small the advice given above applies with grounds. equal pertinence to bulbs. of course they some of the so-called trees of the cata- start into growth as soon as the spring sun logues are really nothing but overgrown shine makes its influence felt in the soil shrubs, and never attain to the dignity where they are hidden away, and it will be you perhaps have in mind. if a real tree necessary to remove their covering as soon is what you want, they will disappoint as they peer above ground. but do not you. make sure about this, before you anticipate this time, thinking you are doing plant. them a kindness. when you see them for small grounds the cut-leaved birch peeping up, uncover them by degrees. if, is very desirable, as it is graceful in all after they are uncovered, a cold, freezing stages of growth. its foliage is very beau- night comes along, spread blankets or old tiful in summer, contrasting charmingly carpeting over the beds. while they with the white bark of its branches, and it would not seem to be much injured by is especially attractive in fall, when it turns freezing, their vitality would be greatly re to a rich yellow that is found among no duced by the ordeal, and in order to secure other trees, with possibly the exception of the finest flowers it is advisable to prevent the hickories and ashes, which we cannot this. make use of on the lawn. how to build and furnish a surprise den in a modern house by dan beard w of f late years our people have come to realize the fact that a man's room or a boy's room is as necessary to the properly conducted household as the lady's boudoir. these rooms, by common consent, are known as “dens. a den usually consists of a small space, sometimes nothing more than an alcove, where the men or boys of the house may retreat to, and the den is usually decorated with an abundant display of yachting flags, college colors, trophies of the hunt and athletic field, fishing-rods, guns, etc., with probably a desk and an easy chair. but, as the wealth of the country increases, and luxuries multiply, the den gradually assumes a more and more primitive con- dition. this is the natural result of the reaction against the surrounding effete luxury of the household. the surprise den is designed to supply a want suggested by many letters request- ing ideas on how to decorate and fix up a den in one's house. the surprise den is constructed so that one may open the door from the dining-room, the drawing-room, or the library, as the case may be, and usher the guests into a primitive pioneer cabin. olaos anod common door khod comdination door knod and wooden latch invented and olsigned by danblad autres reserved in&io snowino toca two sides of the surprisc door if your house is located in the country, where there is plenty of room, a small ad- dition, say 'x , may be added to one side or the other and this addition built into the form of a regular log cabin; but the outsides of the logs concealed by shingles or clapboards to match the side of the house, so that the presence of the log cabin will not be suspected; but if your house is in the city you will probably have to take some room in that house for your den, and in that case, the walls and the ceiling may be covered with slabs which, if neatly done, will have all the appearance of real logs. slabs are in- expensive, their cost being nothing more than the cost of transportation, for wher- ever saw-mills exist the slabs are burned, thrown away or given away; consequently, they have no market value. the first important thing to a surprise li ard di dardland ovtside ii how to build and furnish a surprise den oy whicm you may sce nowa twist op the door knob will lift the latom ventes vidiomes ano ocsic the opposite side of the door. there should be an iron washer, such as comes upon com- mon doors, fastened in place upon the den side of the door before the wooden latch lifter is put in place. the latch itself is simply a straight, wooden bar, h (figs. and ), which fits into the wooden catch k (figs. , and ), and slides up and down through the guard l (figs. and ). in fig. the guard is omitted so as to better show the working of the latch. you can see from this figure that when the knob upon the drawing-room side of the door is twisted, the half disc f turns with the knob and lifts up the wooden latch as it is in fig. . fig. shows the latch, guard and catch all in place. but to return to the door itself. upon the den side of this door some very thin planks must be nailed to cover all signs of the mill or skilled workmanship. these strips of wood while apparently planks, are in fact nothing but weather-beaten boards which have been carefully sawed in half at the mill so that they are, in reality, only a thick veneering to the door; to which they can be nailed without any serious injury to the latter. after these are fitted to the door, two battens, one at the top and one at the bottom, can be fastened in place by a few small screws and afterward a number of short, hand-made rough-headed nails are driven in for appear- ance's sake. these nails need not be of sufficient length to enter into the real door- way. (as may be seen by reference to fig. ). fig. is a rough sketch of the in- terior of a den, showing a fireplace and the slab sides and rustic furniture of the room den is the doorway. of course, the side of the door which faces the drawing-room, parlor or library must give no indication of the other side. it must be, in all re- spects, similar to the other doors in the house. but the opposite side, or the side facing the den, must resemble, in no re- spect, the modern finished doorway.. (figs. and are supposed to be, first, the side facing the den, second, the side facing the drawing-room of the house.) the first problem which confronts us here is how to make a door latch which upon one side is the original knob and lock face, but on the other a wooden latch. fig. shows the glass knob and brass escutcheon sketched from one on a library door. fig. shows the same knob unscrewed and taken from the door. fig. is an ordinary door-knob. by refer- ence to these figures you will see that the knob itself is attached to a square iron bar in the end of which are several threaded holes. these holes are for the that secure the knob upon the opposite side of the door. now, then, if you will cut from a piece of hickory or other hard wood a block of the form of f (fig. ), and make a square hole in this block to admit the end of the square iron bar of the knob, and then fasten it in place by a screw (as in fig. ), you will have something with which to lift the wooden latch, upon screws fhchhe rough sketom of a surprise den or slab room for city or country mouse designed by dan geards rigny reserved the outing magazine ho simple sladmant all rigat and joints or puncheon mantel and fascination of a den; but if we have an open fire in the surprise den it must be in keep- ing with the rest of the room. figure shows one which s has been in working order now for a number of years. the s beauty of this design is its simplicity. the, hearthstone is a rough slab of bluestone from the pennsylvania moun- с tains. the bricks are large, rough fire-bricks. the mantel s itself, d (fig. ), is a " plank which rests upon the puncheon c (figs. and ). there are two other puncheons (a and b), which run up the sides of the fireplace, to the ceiling. this produces a very simple, pioneer effect, with none of the affectation of so-called rustic work. fig. shows the puncheon a, which is flattened 보 ​on the two edges. it is shown better by the sketch in fig. . fig. shows the top of the po mantel d and the manner in which it is cut out at the cor- ners to fit the upright punch- eons a and b. fig. shows the manner also, the effect of heavy logs supporting in which the slabs of the wall fit up against the rough board ceiling. the ceiling of the flattened sides of the puncheon. fig: the room should be covered with rough, shows how the puncheon c (figs. and unplaned boards. to produce the effect of ) is cut to make a snug fit upon the heavy log rafters puncheons may be nailed edges of the puncheons a and b. to the planks, and the floor may be sanded. e, e, etc., of fig. are the rafters of for the benefit of the effete city man the ceiling unacquainted with the language of the s, s, s are the slabs of the wall. pioneers, it may be well to state that a the furniture for the fireplace should puncheon is a flattened or halved log. it not be modern. wrought-iron andirons differs from a slab only in possessing are much to be preferred to brass, for the greater thickness. but if puncheons are reason that our pioneers' andirons—when difficult to secure and there are no dis they indulged in such luxuries—were made carded telegraph poles or piling procurable at the blacksmith shop, and not imported the slabs will answer the purpose very from the brass foundries. there should well, and may be used to represent the log rafters shown in fig. . any boy with ordinary skill in the use of carpenters' tools can cut these slabs so as to fit neatly upon the walls and placed so that they will, to all appearances, be genuine solid logs. the bark should be removed from all the timber used in the punchco den, as it will not only hold dust but serve as a retreat for various pests well known to the housewife, which are liable to enter into any house, but which are difficult to drive out of a room whose walls and ceilings are covered with loose bark. it isn't everybody who can indulge in the luxury of an open fireplace in his den. be a farmer's almanac always but there is a charm about an open fire hanging at the corner of the which has been so often described by mantel. the farmer's alma- writers of prose and poetry that i will not nac of is practically the attempt to enter into any dissertation upon same almanac that our grand- it here. it is only necessary to state the fathers used, the difference be- fact that we all love an open fireplace, and that it adds greatly to the charm, comfort ing only in the date, and not in the make-up of the book. blat conc parts dl sigalo by dan beard all rights rcslrvlo punchron the strategy of tennis by joshua crane i men that many men have won champion- most of them if their suggestions were ship honors through this quality largely. followed out would benefit not only the while this may be so partly, what becomes beginner but the first-class player also) of this player when he meets a man who there is detailed instruction as to how to is good all round?--not perfect, for then, of hold the racquet, how to stand, and how to course, the latter would always win, but so strike the ball. every man has his own developed in the different departments of style, no matter how well and carefully he the game that he would have no especial has followed from the very first the advice weakness. then this former player would of the best professional; but to be in the have nothing to fall back upon, unless he front rank he must have the same general had a settled plan of campaign, a well- groundwork, the same rudiments as the defined strategy. if an opponent has a successful professionals. in other words, weakness, a good general should take ad- he must have a large part of that which vantage of it; but the latter should have a has been the cause of their success, and plan of attack with which to win even that is the general style of game which has against a humanly perfect defense, for even been proved for centuries the best style. such a defense cannot prevent strokes by this is not meant individual idiosyn being won if the right objective is chosen. crasies, but every player knows that the there is no game which combines quick- cut stroke, for instance, is the basis of ness of judgment, accuracy and general- tennis. not that every one makes it in ship as thoroughly as tennis, although polo exactly the same way, or that it is necessary comes the nearest to it. the reason that to make it in a certain way, but no player polo does not equal it is that tennis is a can become first-class without it. there much more exact game, and can be worked are players who have done well without down to a finer point, as polo from its it, but only because they make up part of very essentials requires a turf field and a the deficiency in some other way, either pony, both of which bring in uncertain ele- by quickness, good judgment, accuracy of ments which are not exact and never can hand and eye, or by excellent physical con be. if they could be, polo would be the dition, which is an essential requisite in a superior combination, on account of the long match. up to the last few years it team play. was thought necessary by all the best play tennis may be said to combine the ers not only to know how to cut the ball, exactitude of billiards, co-ordination of but to invariably do so during a match. hand and eye of rackets, and the general- this is as foolish as the old idea of always ship and quick judgment of polo. it is for playing over the lowest part of the net. În this reason that it is impossible for even this, as in everything else concerned with the man who has every qualification in the the game, judgment takes a prominent highest degree to achieve championship part, and it is even more important to form under four or five years of steady know just when to try for a certain ob play. jective and when not to, than to make a a very large part of the game, especially perfect stroke with the head work of an the quick judgment as to where the ball automaton. will strike and the amount of twist or cut it is just this combination of judgment which the other player has given it, is a and stroke which makes a winning player. matter of years' experience, as it is a ques- how often the dedans is heard to remark tion often of inches, which must be deter- on the individual player's beautiful stroke, mined in a fraction of a second of time. and then qualify it by saying that he never until this instinct which comes from ex- seems to be able to play his game in a perience is acquired, the mind has not time match. yet how seldom do the individuals to think of all of the components of cut, in the dedans, even though good players, twist, point of impact, speed, and best themselves, think out or plan out their method of attacking the opponent on the style of game, or realize that the reason return, all of which are necessary to win the those strokes do not come off in a match' stroke, and consequently the last suffers. is that the opponent is cramping and out that is, the player may get the ball back generaling him so that they are few and and even perhaps make a good stroke, but far between. it has long been thought the winning objective is overlooked, and that a player should know the weaknesses only a secondarily good objective is at- of and use that knowledge to defeat his tained. opponent, and it is a general idea of sports the strategy of the game is the finishing the outing magazine one. touch necessary for the player aspiring to must expend considerable energy to keep be first-class, and is the one thing that pro with it; and if he does return it he is badly fessionals do not teach. one may glean out of position, and so near the net that here and there by innumerable conversa practically the only stroke he can win with tions many important points, but it is immediately is the boasted force for the doubtful if any outside the best profes dedans; the latter will hug the floor closely sionals have thought out very seriously -perhaps make a dead nick—and is a very why they play a certain ball for a certain difficult ball to play except with an under- objective, and at another time the same hand straight force for the dedans, an un- ball for a very different one. they do it certain and risky shot to play often, as if as a result of long experience that that play on top of the penthouse-as is most likely will win in the majority of cases. just as to happen-it is either out on account of the experts at golf found that a long follow the roll and speed, or gives the server a through increased the length of the drive, four to one chance of winning the point. but the reasons given for this by different the fact that the striker-out is so golfers were numerous and amusing. since cramped usually that he is forced to play snapshots were taken with one two-thou into the forehand corner develops the serv- sandth of a second exposure the reason er's forehand floor stroke and volley at the appears clear, as the ball appears on the expense of his backhand, and is so far a face of the club flattened to a great degree, detriment to the game, especially in the showing that the club must stay in contact case of beginners, who thus may never even with the ball until the face and the ball develop any backhand stroke and yet play have both regained their original form, to a fairly strong winning game. it is a great get the full amount of drive from elasticity. pity that this should be so, for a player if one could imagine the face of the club should spend a large part of his time in being withdrawn faster than the ball re practicing every kind of stroke, especially gained its curvature, the latter would only those in which he is weak, instead of contin- have the velocity that the club had at the ually using the stroke in which he is strong moment of separation, and an inelastic for the sake of winning practice games. golf ball would be driven as far as an elastic if the service, whether low or high, clings to the gallery wall, it is very difficult for the the danger, of course, in analyzing the striker-out to make an effective stroke from cause and effect of details of the game lies it, and the server should have about a three in the fact that it may be carried too far, to one chance of defending a chase success- and the mind so occupied with the result fully or winning the point. of analysis that the perfect whole is lost if the service strikes the floor before sight of among the maze of these results. hitting the grille wall, it gives the striker- just as a beginner, who is endeavoring with out an excellent opportunity to lay the ball particular concentration to make an ordi dead in the forehand corner, and on this nary cut stroke, may omit to hit the ball account the server should play for above in the middle of his bat because he tries to the nick rather than at it. "the strongest place his left foot in a certain position. service is one that hits the penthouse only of late years a new style of game has once, then well upon the wall not far from been developing, which in its highest form the corner, and so nearly parallel with the includes the best of the old game, or jeu gallery wall that not much break is neces- classique, but excludes many of its weak sary to draw it into the wall, and so fast the primary cause of this new that the striker-out is compelled to start style, or the american game, as it is called, very quickly and move very fast out to at was the overhand railroad service. this is least chase two. in other words, this kind a development of the underhand railroad, of a service is strongest because it first uses and was used originally with the idea of up the energy of the striker-out, prevents cramping the striker-out, especially when or makes it very difficult for him to volley he was defending a hazard chase, so that with any success, cramps him when he has he could not play into the service side reached the ball, and puts him badly out galleries. since then it has been taken ad of position after his return. of course the vantage of by the server not only for these server should be able to vary his service, purposes, but to force the striker-out to play for if there is a hazard side chase a yard, for to the forehand corner, when trying to win instance, he cannot use the best general chases, thus giving the server an easy shot form mentioned, as he might lose the chase for the hazard side galleries in case the on the service. in this case a slower serv- striker-out does not kill the ball on the first ice, with more break or side twist, and stroke. the object of the service is to aimed as low down on the wall as possible, keep the ball close to the gallery wall on is much the best to use, as the striker-out its return from the grille wall, and as low cannot use the service side galleries, and down as possible. naturally if the ball is cannot usually force as hard for the wall played for the grille wall a foot or two above the nick in the forehand corner of above the floor, some will be a little high, the service side, if the service is low and others a little low; the former will come out slow, and perhaps close to the gallery wall. so far, if the service is as fast as it should there are two things to bear in mind if be in its best form, that the striker-out the overhand railroad service is used: one nesses. the strategy of tennis is to always make a chase as soon as possi- ble when on the hazard side, and the other is when on the service side to always try to prevent the striker-out from making a chase. at times the service side may not seem to produce many winning strokes, but if a player will notice when he is watching or playing against a good railroad service, it is very seldom that the striker-out ever wins more than one game consecutively. on the other hand, the server often wins from two to five games without having been ousted from the service side. it is just this possibility which makes it im- perative for a player having a good railroad service to keep, possession of the service side, and to get back there as soon as possi- ble when driven out. the odds in favor of the service side under these conditions are certainly as much as four to three, and it is worth while for the server to play at every difficult ball, even though the odds are against his get- ting it back, rather than let the ball go for a chase, as the old method was. one of the most important things is to remember when playing for an opening to play for the lower part of it and not for the middle. then if higher than intended it is still in, if lower it is at least a difficult stroke for the opponent. always use con- siderable speed when going for an opening, even the side galleries, except perhaps on a shot for the door or first galleries over the high part of the net, as the more nearly level the trajectory of the ball, the more accurately can the height of the opening be judged; for if the stroke is slow, both pace and direction must be just right to have the ball drop in on its downward curve, while if it is fast, the direction alone is necessary. this may be illustrated by a rifle bullet. if a rifle shoots absolutely level the direction alone is necessary for a hit; if it is necessary to elevate it, judg- ment of distance from rifle to mark is also necessary. moreover, when playing for the winning gallery, a severe stroke is much better, as it not only prevents the opponent from going over to defend it, but makes a diffi- cult stroke for him if below the gallery, as the ball is very liable to strike the grille wall close to the nick. one should never play a stroke with such severity that the control of the ball is sacrificed to speed, for although to a certain point speed increases the accuracy, beyond that and every play- er knows himself where that point is in his own case-accuracy suffers. the only ex- ception to this is a ball boasted on the player's own wall, where speed is the only thing which makes the return difficult for the opponent, as a slow boasted ball is the easiest ball for an experienced player to handle, and the twist which remains on the ball makes the return of his return very difficult. when possible one should play for the objective which gives one the point im- mediately, as it not only saves further action and worry for one's self, but has a strong moral effect on the opponent, ren- dering him helpless for the moment, and thus affecting his general play, unless he is of a particularly cool temperament. in the same category might be placed the value of returning everything possible, for noth- ing is more disconcerting to the opponent than to have a seemingly impossible ball returned, as the next time he will feel it necessary to make a still better stroke, which is very apt to result in a miss. to do this successfully, good physical condi- tion is of paramount importance, for not only is the player physically able to play his top game through a hard match, but he will be in a better position mentally, as he is not nearly as likely to get discouraged by hard luck, close decisions against him, or a streak of good play by his opponent. moreover, the player who gets back the most balls has so much the better chance to win points by the ball dropping into the winning openings, getting nicks or cramp- ing the other player by length. this is why the luck always seems to go with the winning player; some think he wins be- cause of his luck, but in reality it is not in most cases the cause of his winning but the effect of his good play and constant re- turn. one should never try for a short chase except when the return is so easy that one is sure of being able to place it in the corner so accurately that it will at least be diffi- cult for the server to do more than scrape it back. this rule, like every other which can be made, must be broken just often enough to keep the server guessing the point of attack, as if an invariable system of attack is used the server will take ad- vantage of knowing the objective, and be prepared to defend it. a player should never attempt to cut down a fast ball off the back wall, unless trying to win a chase, then no more than is necessary to win that chase, as it is a risk to attempt to make chase two when chase six will do as well. as a general rule, when near either side of the court play a floor stroke for a chase over the low part of the net, or force for the end of the dedans over the high part of the net. this will force the server to try to cover both objectives, which it is impossible for him to do against good play. once in a great while play this same ball for length over the high part of the net, just to deceive the server. for the same reason force for the diagonally opposite end of the dedans once in a while, though it is not nearly as effective, as the server usually works over that way a little to protect the corner against a floor stroke. a great many players prefer to use the boasted force rather than the straight force, and there is no doubt it is harder to stop if correctly placed, in fact almost im- possible, but the disadvantages more than counterbalance the advantages, except the outing magazine when the striker-out has been brought out between the service line and the net, when it is the best stroke, as admitting great severity without danger of hitting the opponent. if the boasted force misses the dedans it is usually an easy stroke for the experienced player, whereas if the straight force is missed, the secondary but impor- tant objective usually is obtained of a chase, though it may be a long one. suggestions for guidance of the server and striker-out are appended to the article, and while no absolute directions can be given for every case, yet if they are care- fully followed when possible, the individ- ual judgment supplies the rest. the whole strategy of the railroad game may be stated in these words: place the opponent on the defensive, and the odds are largely in favor of the player on the offensive.' this, of course, is the object of every kind of service, but there is no other, except perhaps a high giraffe, which cannot be handled in such a manner that the striker-out can be reasonably sure of making some chase. all side-wall services can be volleyed successfully when of such length that they will not come off the back wall, and if they do come off, an easy chance to return the service is given. it is of tremendous importance to learn to volley every kind of service, as it not only gives a player confidence and allows him to put the opponent on the defensive, but it will improve his volleying in rallies to a very great extent. backhand volleying is not usually de- veloped so highly as the forehand on ac- count of this very service volleying, and also because the player using the railroad service gets so much forehand volleying on the service side. the backhand volley should be developed, however, and the best way to do it is to stand on the service side and get a marker to serve slow side- wall services from the hazard side. this will give the player an opportunity, of volleying balls off the penthouse, which is the best practice possible for timing a volley properly. it is certain that there is no good defense against the railroad service, and the best method for the striker-out to employ is, as has been emphasized, to get on the service side and place his opponent in the defen- sive position. one of the most important things in tennis to-day is to learn to volley the rail- road service, not that it can be done suc- cessfully throughout a match, but in order that the player may learn to be practically sure of getting the ball over the net, so that he may volley those balls which are going to strike low down on the grille wall. there is nothing more disconcerting and discour- aging to the striker-out, and consequently sure of opposite effects on the server, than a nick at a critical moment, perhaps when the latter is defending a long chase. under such circumstances it is better to even toss the ball over the net than to run the risk of a nick or half a nick. it has been stated in objection to this that a great many balls which are taken under this method would strike the floor first and give an easy chance to kill for the striker-out. this may be partly so, as no man can judge the nick exactly, but a good player should judge it so closely, especially if he place himself so that a nick ball will, when coming off the penthouse, pass him at breast height-the easiest height to volley steadily with cut- that very few mistakes would be made. moreover, by eliminating all nicks or possi- ble nicks the striker-out robs the service of a measure of its terrors, and also throws the server off his length. this method has often caused the server to complain after the match that he was off his serve, not realizing that he was thrown off by the tactics of his opponent. in closing it may be said that some pro- fessionals claim that this style of game is not the best with which to win, while others allow that it is. there is no doubt that for beginners it is a bad game, unless supple- mented by arduous and steady practice, and that it makes the ordinary practice game too strenuous and hard hitting for steady diet, especially for those who play the game for quiet exercise. on the other hand it must be remembered that under the present method of competition in all branches of sport the winning game is the best one, and all progress in sport has come from this very competition, although for everyday use modifications are necessary and wise. when serving the railroad stand as near to the dedans wall and gallery wall as possible without affecting the stroke by touching the wall with the racquet. when the chase is two or better, do not serve the railroad, but some slow twisting service to cramp the striker-out, but never so as to come off the back wall. on a long chase serve as hard as possible to bring the striker near the net, as when a player is moving fast control is difficult. on a hazard chase use a slow twisting railroad, low on the wall and close to the side wall, so that there is no danger of losing the chase on the serve. as soon as the service is delivered move quickly into position in the middle of the court, behind chase two. (many players lose the whole effectiveness of the railroad by inattention to this, or waiting to see if the ball is going to nick.) volley everything possible before it gets to the back wall, especially when the op- ponent is out of position, unless sure that it will be easier off the wall. learn to volley with a cut, as it steadies the stroke. any difficult ball in the forehand corner scrape back by a half volley or a volley, using the wall if easier. starting an exhibition kennel never let a ball make a chase. above the nick in the forehand corner, or never try to play a difficult stroke off of for the lower part of the opening. a difficult return; always choose the easiest any service which strikes the floor first, stroke which yet will win the rally. cut down severely with twist into the fore- volley all low balls in the forehand over hand corner. the high part of the net toward the foot of if you cannot play a good stroke with a the tambour and just slipping it, and slow ball, always put something on it to bother so that they will not come off the back wall. the other man, either speed, twist, or high vary your hard volley for the grille cor toss. you will be surprised how many he ner occasionally by boasting hard for the will miss. winning gallery corner, especially, if your force with a cut if possible, usually for opponent is one of those who usually work the lower forehand end of the opening, over toward the grille. varied occasionally by a boasted force, or a never play an easy ball for the grille un straight force for the backhand end. less defending a chase (then force hard never play the ball on to the penthouse and low), for the foot of the tambour or or in the net. if you do the former you are winning gallery is not as dangerous, as you getting inattentive or forcing too hard, if will probably win the stroke even if you the latter you are taking too many chances, miss your objective, whereas a missed grille by playing too close to the net.. a little gives an easy return. higher with more cut and twist is just as when defending a short chase by return good. ing a force, block it slow for the tambour try to win all chases better than two by rather than take any chance of missing, as forcing for the opening, unless you have a it takes a good man to win a short chase very easy ball well up to your shoulder and twice in one rally, and it is difficult for him are perfectly sure you can judge it per- to find the opening successfully if the ball fectly. comes slowly to him on the floor. do not attempt to make a chase half a yard when you are trying to win a chase better than the second gallery. many players play exactly the same stroke under remember to make a chase immediately, both circumstances. no matter how long. the server's vulnerable spots are the stand so that a nick service will pass you floor over the low part of the net and the breast high, then volley if the ball passes opening over the high part. he cannot you at that height. if it does not you are defend both. in proper position for anything else. never boast a ball under the winning it may properly be mentioned again here gallery unless absolutely forced to, or some that no absolute rules can be laid down for times when trying to win a short chase, as every case, and variety must be used to this boasted ball, although difficult for the keep the opponent unprepared. the judg- beginner, is one of the easiest balls for the ment to do this at the right time, and to experienced player to return, unless of know when to take chances, are qualities exactly the right length. that transform a mediocre game into a any fast ball off the back wall play for high-class one. when receiving the railroad starting an exhibition kennel by joseph a. graham the beginner should never undertake field trials, either of bird dogs or hounds; much less coursing with greyhounds. these things cost heavily and are uncertain in results, even with the most liberal expendi- ture and the sharpest foresight. every- body will allow that the field trial or cours- ing game is a higher class of sport and represents more of almost everything which may be called outdoor enjoyment. on the other hand, it calls for some leisure, ex- perience and money, if there is to be a fair degree of success. with a man who wishes to keep a dog or two for companionship or home amuse- ment, advice does not mean a great deal. he would as well drift along according to his own fancy. to him i would say only that nobody should permit himself to own a dog which has not a pedigree and the type of the breed. mongrels may have their sentimental appeal, but the bend sinister should never be tolerated in polite society. let us suppose, therefore, that the ex- periment is to be with bench sho when the person involved has formed a distinct bias in favor of a particular breed, he would i the outing magazine as well take it up with himself and have it the young exhibitor ought to handle his out on that line. if his choice is unsatis dogs every day, as if they were in the ring. factory, he will get it out of his system once that is, he should make them take and for all and know where he stands. hold the position which shows their points. to others who are in doubt about a selec he should also teach them to be at ease, tion a little counsel may be of service. i lively and free of movement on the lead. suggest that the novice pick one of the a dog which is lively and at the same time smaller breeds. they are kept more easily, obedient in the ring is quite likely to beat mature more quickly and the expense is a competitor which is really a better dog smaller in every direction. the fox terrier but a bad shower. is one of the best in all respects, but it will how to buy a dog is a problem which be a matter of great difficulty for the be cannot be solved with an axiom. if i ginner to do any winning in that breed. could give a final answer to that question, there are so many of these dogs and the i could tell how to buy stocks or real es- big exhibitors have an advantage so de tate. some men have, by nature, a per- cided that respectable competition has a ception of values; some men can never long chance against it. the cocker spaniel learn. it should be good advice to lay presents something of similar trouble. the down a rule of going to a reliable profes- cocker gives more peace of mind, because sional and asking him to buy you the best he is less quarrelsome. his comparative dog he can for a given amount of money. disadvantage is that his thick coat makes but professionals have their faults. ev- him a natural host for fleas. the irish ery one of them is biased in favor of some terrier is an attractive dog and as yet there dogs which he knows. on the inside of are not so many competitors but that an the craft, too, kissing goes by favor. they amateur would have a reasonable chance. are likely to tickle each other when there pugs are among the easiest dogs to keep, is an understanding. stable tips are no- but they seem to have lost their attractive toriously untrustworthy. still, all in all, ness. Íoy spaniels particularly suit lady if you do not yourself understand some- fanciers; first, because they are always thing of the breed—remembering also that stylish and pretty, and, second, because a little knowledge may be dangerous—the they can be kept around the house. pom best course may be to put yourself in the eranians are a classy little breed, but in hands of the professional. anyhow, you disposition they seem to me to be the least will learn faster by sticking close to the interesting of all dogs. they are fretful, professionals, and maybe have the better fussy and seldom intelligent. of them by partaking of their hard-earned in caring for a little line of dogs i should lore, at a fraction of what it cost them. under all circumstances have a special in managing your dogs there will not building, however small or crude, instead perhaps be much fun unless you can follow of keeping them in the house, and i should your individual notions on what consti- have a special compartment or cage for tutes enjoyment. there is not perhaps a every dog where it would stay, at least at single thrill in twisting your soul to carry night. the more exercise and freedom out processes which rasp against the grain. they have the better, but i should have it however, i am not your parish priest, but done under careful supervision. a dog man. whatever your imagination in feeding, a sensible style is to make may invent, a dog is still a dog, and has the usual ration of graham bread with fre none of the attributes which we assign to quent additions of milk and eggs. a little ourselves when we feel mushy. a dog meat once or twice a week is all right. the understands “yes” and is equally com- young fancier's great danger is too much petent to grasp the “no." outside of that, fat. when a dog is once fat, it is a lot of he is all dog and follows his dog ways. he trouble to reach again anything like good indulges in no mental refinement and will condition. the bitch kept fat is likely to not comprehend many of your changes of quit breeding very young. i remember mood or mind. whatever you undertake feeding some dogs successfully for several to teach, make it plain, simple and un- months, when i used indifferently white and changeable. it is a pity that he must be graham bread with no other addition than taught not to jump up on people and com- that of a little grease which the cook kept pliment them with his caresses. he means over from her frying operations. well, but must be disciplined sternly into it is an everlasting principle that one knowing that it is not good form under any good dog kept in good shape is worth circumstances. twenty moderate ones. therefore the nov make the dog come when you whistle; ice will make the best showing if he con otherwise you will have trouble whenever centrates his money and time on one or you go in the street, and in a variety of two of the finest specimens he can afford. other ways. beyond these two things, a a poor dog costs as much to keep as a bench-show dog does not need much train- first-class one. mixing in a trifle of good ing, and, if it is bench-show demeanor you sense, anybody can keep one dog in perfect want, it is better to concentrate on teach- condition as to coat and exhibition shape. ing the animal to stand in position and to when you have five or six, you will find move around on the lead cheerfully and with that it is no fun. vigor, than to undertake any fancy tricks. condition in the horse, and how to attain it by f. m. ware conop ondition-perfect physical fitness effect, not the cause, of the lack of bodily for the work for which the animal condition which is two-thirds due sheerly is kept — is attained in the horse by a and solely, in the high-bred, nervous, sen- judicious combination and provision of ex sitive horse, to simple homesickness. ercise, feed and grooming; important in given such a mournful result of the best the order named, but for complete suc of good intentions, we have a job of months cess interdependent. condition naturally upon our hands to get him right again, and varies with the requirements at issue in the “pink of condition”; and when we that for slow work not being that for do again land him in that desirable haven, racing, etc.—but the same means are al there, in mercy's name and for pity's sake, ways employed in varying degree to reach let him end his days, at least so far as our the desired result, and once that end is service is concerned. it may be beyond secured it is probable that we greatly err, the facts to say that no horse is ever bene- both in regard to the best interests of fited by being turned out, but where one ourselves and our horses, if we ever again is thus helped, ten are injured, if ordinary permit a wide departure from it. the methods obtain. domesticated horse is a very artificial as to exercise, this must depend upon animal, through our mistaken ideas re what a horse is kept for and expected to garding his general care and environment, do, but it must be regular, and any lack of and having taken all means to make him it must be instantly met by a correspond- absolutely dependent upon our fostering ing reduction in both the amount and the care, we at times, with what is really re nourishing quality of the food. if a horse fined if careless cruelty, force him to re in regular work is suddenly laid by, as from sume his primitive habits of life, and, turn lameness or other accident, he must forth- ing him out to grass, having generally with be served with a mild cathartic like a deprived him of his caudal appendage, pint of raw linseed oil, or a mild aloes ball leave him through the long and heated of two or three drachms. sundays are summer term to furnish a juicy repast to usually rest days, and accordingly, sat- flies by day and to other insects by night; urday's mid-day and night rations should or in winter condemn him, in equally be light in character as those of the holiday heartless fashion, to the solitary confine itself. thousands of cases of azoturia are ment of a loose box, and a generally spar- noticeable in all cities every year, and this tan experience with the weather for which is what troubles nearly all the horses we previous years of pampering have but illy see flat in the street so frequently. ninety fitted him. the strongest instinct in the per cent. of these cases occur on mondays, horse is that of home-all his thoughts and for the reason that the careless owners interests lie there and the most wearing have not lessened the feed upon the pre- pain he suffers is that of nostalgia—the vious day, when the hard-working animal longing for the familiar stall and the well was suddenly allowed complete rest. at loved surroundings. what wonder that our least five miles daily is required to keep pets almost invariably return to us from most horses fit, and they are generally all such unhappy experiences mere shadows of the better for a ten-mile pilgrimage be- their former selves, and in such wretched tween breakfast and supper, but every in- bodily condition that it is months before dividual case varies. some stay in con- they regain their usual health and spirits? dition with but little exercise, and that at we blame the man in charge, poor feed, most irregular intervals; others, the gross, bad stabling, insufficient pasturage, etc., hearty sort, need severe work; others, and overlook entirely the fact that it is again, the light-waisted, “washy” kind- all our own fault, and the direct result of which are not infrequently extremely en- heart-hunger which no grass, grain or roof during despite their infirmity-fade away tree could entirely assuage. of course the to nothing if regularly used, and, yet when little-used muscles have, from lack of ex "freshened up” by a few days' absolute ercise, shrunk and lost their firmness and idleness will perform really prodigious plumpness; the crest has fallen from the tasks, if they be but done at one "stint" same cause; “poverty lines" appear in and not by various consecutive efforts. the quarters and shoulders; the tail and pace has much to do with acquiring con- mane are all out of shape, or all worn away; dition and it should always be moderate, the feet stubbed off; the coat dingy and where the subject is being built up and sunburnt; the skin full of all manner of even the over-fat animal is better reduced scars, cuts and abrasions; all these are the by light feeding and mild physic than by i i the outing magazine were “stand up, rapid and long-continued exercise, unless (in any connection) is wrong all through he is to be used for racing purposes. and should never be allowed in use. thank however fast horses are to be used, they goodness, the old-fashioned hissing, slam- should always be started out easily and bang style of groom is passing away—the gradually "got on their feet”-after the ignorant but well-meaning fellow who tied first half mile; and the last half mile should his horse up uncomfortably high, where the always be slow, the last hundred yards or halter was cutting into his thin-skinned so at a walk, that the animal may be ready jaws, cheeks, ears, etc., and who then pro- to do up and put away without unneces ceeded first to scrape his hide loose with a sary fuss—and about half of what custom curry-comb, rattling it over the sensitive decrees the groom shall do to a horse after skin and bones like a man planing a board; work is wholly unnecessary, a waste of pursued the same course with a body- time and annoying to the subject. brush scraped over delicate ears, etc., and there is no doubt that the example fur rubbed up and down the body like a wom- nished by the over-fattened horses in the an scrubbing a floor; followed this with show ring has given us an erroneous im the sharp bristles of a dandy-brush that pression as to the bodily condition suitable picked at the unfortunate gee gee with a for the really hard-working harness or hundred sharp. points; applied then a saddle horse, and that we err in principle damp straw wisp all over the body, with and practice by trying to attain or to pre mighty thumps and bangs that made the serve by means of heavy feeding the gently poor beast reverberate like a drum, or flowing contours of such animals. the writhe like a snake; and wound up the work-a-day steed is bound to be much performance by wiping over the eyes, nos- lighter in alesh and to be all the better for trils and muzzle with a sponge which had it, and a certain amount of angularity may first been used upon the feet and other be pardoned in view of the increased effi parts needing washing. this we ciency it is likely to bring. an exceptional always told was, when accompanied by case now and then presents itself where much hissing and grunting, an occasional the body remains plump and round, but punch in the ribs, and various gruff orders such a horse is usually fortunate in being to “kim over, etc., the truly made all over—and underneath-so regular orthodox english way to do the that, while he shrinks, he does it harmon job—therefore right and beyond criticism; iously and without destroying the propor but an acquaintanceship with such methods tions or betraying angularities. there is was sufficient to plainly show the reason no better test of physical fitness than the why so many english and irish horses are hard muscular feel of the crest and over “mean” to handle in the stable, and the ribs, the bright, clear eye and the treacherous to strangers—and many of our generally cheerful bearing. a very game race horses, especially sensitive to such horse will seemingly present the last ap treatment have, while always docile here, pearance the moment he is conscious that become regular savages when taken abroad; work is at hand, but even then any one while importations here have almost at familiar with his usual appearance will once become as gentle and companionable hardly be deceived, as the countenance, as every high-bred horse naturally is. we while animated, has an anxious and hag have lately studied the individual horse in gard cast that is usually quite unmistak this country (at least among valuable able. animals), but on the other side they are prone to handle all alike; and this "alike' means in the style of our grandfathers, grooming properly conducted, is when intense in-breeding and high-breed- thorough, searching, yet gentle bodily ing had not made of the creature such a massage, and should always be made as nervous, high-strung, artificial thing as he acceptable and free from annoyance to the is to-day. horse as possible. it is amazing what an the up-to-date groom proceeds quietly effect consideration in this respect has all through. he makes his horse com- upon nervous or irritable thin-skinned fortable to begin with, frequently leaving horses both in condition and temper. his head free. he lightly and quickly some phlegmatic brutes stolidly allow shampoos him with the body-brush; themselves to be mauled with curry-comb, whisks him over with the dandy-brush; bristle, or goose-quill brush, dandy-brush, straightens the hair, and sets all fair with etc., and doze through a performance that rubber and damp sponge; does most of wou'd seemingly take the paint off a the cleansing of the lower legs with a sponge house; while with others the mere rasp and water, or soap and water; dampens of the body-brush across the curry-comb, and gently brushes mane and tail, and even before the toilet begins, is enough to makes the toilet a pleasure even to the throw them into a paroxysm of nervous, most occasionally the body- shrinking, dread of the physical torture brush is found too irritating to the animal, (to them) which always follows, making and the dandy-brush of pliant straw, a their grooming an occasion of plunging, straw wisp (dampened), and the rubber squealing, pawing, flinching remonstrance. and sponge are all-sufficient, for in such any method that visibly annoys a horse horses the hair is always thin and short. grooming nervous. condition in the horse, and how to attain it i prac- clipping washing all over is particularly suitable be done with fetlocks and the long hairs for such subjects, and there is no reason in the ears by regularly using the same why horses should not be bathed and methods, and working a little at a time- washed as regularly as their masters. if heels thus cared for looking much better the fluid is wholesome for the inside or than those showing the harsher outlines outside of man, it is equally so for the which the use of the comb and scissors beast, and no harm ever yet came from produces. resin should also be used upon washing horses if they were properly dried the hands to wipe thoroughly over all gray afterward. to do this the creature should or roan horses before they are used-thus be quickly and thoroughly scraped all over; getting rid of many loose hairs just ready thick flannel bandages rolled loosely on to be shed upon the owner's clothes, etc. his legs, and a cooler or two and an old a bit of bluing tied up in a rag and dipped hood thrown over him for him to "steam into the water used on white legs and heels, out" in; these to be removed when he is or to remove stains on gray or white nearly dry; the remaining damp spots horses, will help attain the desired end. rubbed out, and dry clothing, according to nothing but pure water should ever be used needs, put on. in the same way a horse inside or outside the feet, and the greasy afte work may be quickly and thoroughly blacking and oil preparations in such gen- washed, scraped out and put away; he eral favor are filthy, and do not retain a will be cleaner, cool out quicker, and, if smart appearance for half a block, while tired, is saved the irksome dressing to they soil the hand or glove if one tries to which he is too often subjected, and which pick up such a foot. the horn is full of is even more trying to him than it would pores as is the skin, and to fill these reg- be to you under the same circumstances. ularly with grease is an abominable if very tired-exhausted-even this may tice, and one devoid of reason. soap, be profitably omitted, and he may just be water and massage are the only agents put away with the “rough” wisped off and needed to always insure a perfectly clean left until next day for a complete toilet. horse. nothing ever happened to you in the old rowing days when you had helped to carry the shell to the rack, and, stripping off the every horse but the slow draught horse reeking jersey, went headfirst into the should be clipped. we have, as said be- river (even in march) and out for a rub fore, made of him to a great extent an down; and how often in the woods you artificial animal, and the hair should al- have turned in dead-tired, dirty to the ways be removed from all or part of his limit, yet none the worse for that next body, replacing it in times of great ex- morning--and so with your horse. wash- posure by proper blanketing, even under ing has every advantage for the six warmer the harness if necessary. the horse may months anyhow, and the clipped horse may be clipped all over; or only on the body, equally as well be done over in water with neck and head, leaving the chest, legs, etc. the chill off. if he gets no harm when (as the most generally exposed parts) drenched with rain before your carriage, protected by the natural coat. the ani- or at pasture, what is there to hurt him in mal perhaps looks unsightly to us thus a daily "tub” indoors? his heels must mutilated as to covering, but surely if we always be well dried out, and the bandages accept docked tails and hogged manes used—which are only kept on until he without a murmur, we need not shudder steams out-should come well down to the over the partial clipping--more especially hoofs to insure rapid and equal evapora as the one is a fad of a diseased and dis- tion and consequent drying. the scraping torted taste, the ther has every common- after the bath is highly cleansing, and the sense reason for 'its employment. thus, washed horse is regularly what few other the horse entirely denuded of his hair must horses ever are—thoroughly clean all over. expose his legs to great variations of tem- a groom may shirk his duty, but if he perature—for while we clothe his body, washes and scrapes a horse, that animal we leave the rest of him worse than naked. is clean. proper and regular dampening not only is circulation thus interfered with, of the mane and tail will, if it is scanty, do but much discomfort caused the animal, much to promote growth, and the tail and his general condition injured; while especially needs watching in a horse which the bare breast is but seldom, if clipped, is gaining in condition, since it almost protected—with its delicate and sensitive invariably then becomes a little scurfy, mechanism beneath-with the breast cloth and there is a tendency nearly always to which is so easy to put on, so cheap to own, rub it, which a little kerosene emulsion, and so seldom in use. nor is the winter etc., will do much to set right, and to allay solstice the only period when clipping is the irritation. the tail should be as care effective. many heavy-coated horses are fully trimmed and trained as the mane, all the better for it in summer- in fact and whether both are long, or pulled and any horse which sweats unduly, and seems banged, or docked, a vast improvement weakened by it, should be gone over at any may be made in their appearance by, a time of year, and as often as necessary. careful and symmetrical trimming with our erratic climate, the pace we travel and shears and the resined fingers. much may the condition we would maintain, all com- i the outing magazine bine to render the process wholesome, hu- mane and necessary nowadays, whatever it was one hundred, or even ten years ago. the coat may be kept short by heavy blankets, warm stables and plenty of warm or cooked food; but no real benefits result, and the owner is not consulting the welfare of his horses in the matter, but his own fancy. great care must be taken with all clipped animals, and especially when they have been freshly subjected to the process, to sponge freely the shoulders and pad place, etc. (in harness horses), and where the saddle rests (in riding horses) with the coldest water, not merely sopped on, but applied liberally with a full sponge. this will close the pores of the skin, and prevent the humor or eczema, which is sure to appear at these points unless the skin is thus washed. an astringent lotion may be used if preferred, but has no advantages over simple cold water. not only is the chafing of harness and saddle irritating to the exposed skin, but the dried sweat and dust, the frequent heating and cooling, tend to upset the natural functions at these points, and a very annoying humor may result. the fashion of leaving the space under the riding saddle untouched has no special merit if the back is always sponged, and if a felt saddle-cloth, which may week- ly be dried, beaten, washed and cleaned, as a saddle panel never is, is always worn, and kept in perfect order. such an eruption is not contagious, though so general is it in some stables in fall and early winter that such would appear to be the case. singe- ing of the coat, formerly very general, has now gone almost completely out of use and never had any special merit to begin with. even the horse exposed to the full severity of rain and snow is better clipped, for once indoors, scraped out and blanketed, he soon “steams out?? dry and warm; while his luckless confrère, who appeared more com- fortable in the downpour outdoors, is either soaking and shivering all night in his long, wet coat, or bathed in sweat in the cover- ings placed upon him to dry him-simply exchanging one kind of moisture for an- other of a most exhausting type. as you walk about the streets if you hear a horse cough you will find seven times in ten that it is an unclipped animal, a victim not improbably of mistaken kindness. decrepit or outclassed, are sent to the auction mart, and there acquired by laz- arus, who drives a "night-hawk” cab for what there is in it. that very night, all night and every night, foul or fair, these unfortunates stand about the open streets, shivering, sweating, dripping, as chance befalls—but never sick, always ready to work and to eat; should dives, perchance, again be moved to acquire them, they would half the time in his palatial hot- house stables be on the shelf for repairs. lazarus, without realizing it, is hygieni- cally correct in his treatment-plenty of fresh air, regular exercise, food in modera- tion, and wholesome exposure; dives errs in every one of these essentials; results speak for themselves. our none-too-ac- tive servants maintain the temperature of the stable at what is grateful to their own carcasses, and even as they generally slum- ber sweltering in many mufflings, so do they tuck away their equine charges. fifty degrees is not too cold for any stable, and lacking direct draughts, two moderate blankets (much warmer than one thick one) should be enough—a sheet being worn al- ways underneath all blankets, as it can so easily be washed, and because what is easy to do is more likely to be done. day and night blankets should never be the same, and both should be regularly aired, sunned and shaken; properly put' on, by throwing well forward on the neck and then drawing back after buckling, the breast straps—until about six inches above root of tail, which will leave plenty of freedom in front that the shoulders may not be chafed and the fastenings broken. the surcingle or roller should never be drawn tight, for this badly bruises the backbone; possibly, if sharp, may make a sore there; while if the girth is tight when the horse is standing, the pressure will be greatly increased when he lies down, and not improbably therefore prevent him from doing so. a breast-girth (or plate) will keep the slack roller in place. blan- kets with the girths sewn on are handy, but sure to work back and to chafe the shoulders, besides presenting a most untidy appearance. summer sheets are always needed in america, if the stables are not darkened, as all (private stables at least) can be, both easily and cheaply; otherwise the swarming flies make the unfortunate denizens miserable, reducing them to a state of nervous exasperation which has its direct effect upon bodily condition and the dollars and cents necessary to maintain it. from six a.m, to six p.m. all stabled horses should be sheeted, but at night are better stripped; nor indeed will the coat be likely to lie close and to look well if unrestricted insect torment is permitted. if, during the period from june to october (in this latitude), our horses need sheets as protection in the stable, not less acutely do they (especially when banged or docked of tail) suffer when at their daily work, and blanketing blanketing is carried not unusually to a foolish excess, and with the usually half- ventilated private and public stable, does more to decimate our already depleted equine supply than any other cause that can be named. rule-of-thumb and tra- dition govern us almost entirely, or rather dominate our servants who rule over us. horses need exposure; were framed for it; thrive under it, if only the changes of temperature be not too equent or too sudden. the pampered pets of dives, condition in the horse, and how to attain it i fit of harness bandages manner of driving it is most astounding that some legal pro prevent the vessels of the leg, etc., from vision has not been made by national or becoming engorged, is not the same result state law for the enforced use of fly-nets, likely to obtain in a measure with the not only upon harness but upon saddle veins? not infrequently one may prick horses. were our s. p. c. a. officials and with a pin the fetlock or coronet of a ban- patrons other than hopelessly inefficient daged horse, and find that sensation is and impractical, this would years ago absolutely wanting. like all inventions, have been done, and the wretched and these articles are most valuable at certain idle fad for docking horses reduced as a times, in certain conditions and in ex- torture to a minimum. such a law would perienced hands, but if left to the judg- be a hardship to no one; would largely ment of the average stableman, they are advance the comfort and proper condition very dangerous and prolific of detrimental of all horses, and since docking apparently after-effects. is not to be prevented, would at least pro- vide for the unhappy subject throughout all the rest of his mutilated career as much the fit of the harness, saddle, bits, etc., or more protection as he ever derived from has much to do with condition. if the his original caudal appendage, and re ho must always work in discomfort he garded merely from a mercenary stand suffers mentally and physically, which re- point, would prove an extremely profitable acts directly upon his condition. every- investment in the way of enhanced physi thing must fit, be neither too large nor too cal condition and endurance. this whole small, too tight nor too loose, and these matter of protection from insects is one of details will all be taken up next month. the most vital necessities in proper horse it is, if one has not noticed it, amazing keeping, and yet, while so obvious, rarely what a difference in deportment and well- reckoned with. being these unconsidered trifles make; and it is so very simple and easy to have them just right that it is wonderful so few, bandages, as applied to the average even among those who pose as humani- carriage and saddle horse, are an unmixed tarians, take the very slightest trouble evil, and save when a horse is drying out about it. after washing, etc., have small place in sensible stable management. during the past few years a perfect mania has arisen the manner of driving or riding has a to bandage every leg on every horse every strong bearing on condition, and we can time there is a chance, and a great boon it see every day thousands of examples to has been to the bandage makers and the this effect on the streets anywhere. given cotton-batting purveyors. no sooner does two horses having the same care, food, etc., an animal arrive fresh from his country both physically able and performing iden- home, than his legs are forthwith wrapped tical tasks, yet driven by two different in bandages, and these he wears all days men-one is always fat, composed, and and most nights, until the vessels are so tranquil; the other nervous, agitated, anx- relaxed that, without the artificial support, ious, and in consequence thin and out of his ankles fill, and sometimes the dropsied condition. what is the reason? noth- effect extends almost to knees and hocks. ing but the different handling-lack of no one can give a sensible reason for the sympathy, of any horse sense or horse- proceeding—it is merely a fad that has man's instinct in the driver of the latter. been caught up from some one who thus why is the average livery-stable or riding- exploited some celebrated show horse, school horse haggard of eye, anxious of possibly so decrepit that he needed cunning countenance, almost always thin and worn? support to his extremities, but more than not lack of food nor overwork—just mental probably handicapped by the application worry and the nervous overstrain of trying intended to assist. cripples of course there to please a lot of thoughtless people, most are, whom bandaging helps, but such are of whom wholly lack horse sense and are unlikely to be found in rivate stables, proud of it. do what you will in the way let grooms say what they will, and certain of care, etc., the handling the horse re- ly no amateur is likely to buy any such ceives has greatly to do with his physical beast; while the fresh-from-the-country welfare. perfect condition is not a mere kind never need the appliances. it is very matter of so much food, so much water, likely that much of the trouble which is a warm bed, a tight roof. it depends, as had with horses' feet nowadays arises from does everything else in life and in our re- this idiotically overdone practice, for so lations with other men and all beasts, upon tight are they drawn and so greatly does the little things, the unconsidered trifles, each turn about the leg increase the pres and lucky is he who has the interest, the sure that the circulation is very seriously patience, the intuition to investigate close- interfered with for hours at a time, and the ly, to discern clearly, and to apply intelli- hoof and adjacent parts nourished very gently, for he shall reap his reward in imperfectly. if we put on bandages to countless ways, and in various associations, rod and gun - one worm fishing for tied to a fine snell of the same thickness as the leader. this completes the outfit. brook trout it is a great mistake to use split shot to sink the worm. the bait should at all advice to "plumpers”. times float on the surface like a fly. trout always rise to a worm (and will never fol- by louis rhead low it to the bed of the brook, even in deep water), providing the angler is out of ne out of every twenty brook trout sight. anglers uses the fly; the rest fish with in baiting the hook never put on a great worms. only one of the nineteen is an ex bunch of three or four worms; it is not perienced worm fisherman; the remaining half as effective as a small single live worm. ones are what i shall term “plumpers, with a big bunch some time must elapse who only make a practice of fishing during before the fish swallows it, and then if a a short vacation in the summer. it is to small fish is landed he has to be killed to these plumpers (so called because they only extract the hook. large fish will swim know how to plump a worm into the water around a bunch of worms as if doubtful and yank a trout back again) that i wish about touching it, because in nature no to present a few ideas whereby they may such thing happens, whereas a single worm get some real sport, instead of being merely only half impaled on the hook with the butchers intent only on slaughter. tail wriggling around arouses an instant they soon get to know by experience desire to seize it quickly. to properly that brook trout, even when fully gorged, hook a worm it should be worked right cannot resist a live, wriggling worm. over the hook until it is entirely covered. therefore it is only an idiot who fails to that will nearly insure the barb's piercing land them. there is infinitely more shame the lips instead of the hook being swal- than pride in having a photograph taken lowed. by the side of a long string of trout rebait every time a fish is caught, often the greater part being little above the oftener if necessary. never have ragged size allowed by law to be taken. i advo parts left on the hook. all parts of dead cate giving the fish a fair show and getting worms should be removed. have noth- some real sport out of the game. legiti- ing on the hook but the single live worm, mate worm fishing is an art easily learned, with one third wriggling. most expert bait giving ample pleasure and playing to the anglers scour their worms, always having angler. a large supply on hand in a good-sized tin În the small, swift-running brooks that can, having one fourth filled up with a tumble over rocks and sunken tree trunks, sandy soil, and on top lay some damp moss, where the water swirls in foamy circles, soaked well with milk and a few pieces of the tackle should be of the lightest and bread. in a few days the worms will hard- daintiest description-a four-ounce, eight en and become lighter in color. when foot rod that is not too long and getting ready to start have the bait box wrapped everlastingly entangled overhead; that is round the waist and a part of the worms easy to guide through brambles and laurel put in the box. now that all is ready we bushes—such a rod is invaluable. have will make our way toward the stream or the line to match-the thinnest and lightest mountain brook not more than twelve in weight; also have the reel very small, feet wide, nor more than a foot and a half with a stiff click to retard any rushes under deep, except in the pools made by logs low branches or fallen logs. . trout always and rocks. step lightly into the water and dart off, if possible, to hiding places where from the middle of the brook cast the it is difficult to dislodge or get at them. worm gently, without a splash, to the right the best leader for this fishing should be bank, having the line the same length as very fine indeed, and only three feet long, the rod. work the bait in a semicircle as it often happens that the tip cannot be to the left bank. if no fish take it reel raised because of overhanging, branches, out another six feet of line, thus covering and a long leader cannot be reeled in close a further distance, and draw it slowly enough to get the net under the fish. a across to the other side. the force of the willow net with rubber ring to fit on the water keeps the bait on the surface in sight wrist is advisable; especially so when the of the angler. if a fish takes the bait he fish run to a good size, of from ten to fif will rush to the bank as he sees the angler; teen inches, for it often happens that when he will not run up stream. such a fish is hooked there is no place in if the fish is a ten-inch trout slightly sight where one can lead him out of the check the line, but hold him from going water on to the beach. a distance; then turn him and gradually the hooks cannot be too small, and a reel until he is near enough to place the liberal number should be supplied, and net under him. now rebait with a fresh - rod and gun а worm, and take a few steps forward and the surface, they may at times be found repeat the same movements as before, in only four inches of water, sometimes taking care, however, to use the utmost good-sized fish, so that the bait should be caution in moving down stream-no floun hoated in every direction by the force of dering about or waving the rod. let the the running water. in places of this kind water carry the bait forward after the side it is well to have a longer line out, es- cast is made, and keep a steady eye on pecially in open and sunny spots. at the bait. as you move along, on coming every short distance examine the hook to to a tree trunk lying across the brook, see that the point is not blunted or broken which forms a deep pool, lengthen the line by the stones, and the bait at all times (keeping some distance away) and let it must be alive and well placed on the hook. run its course. the eddies will carry it the angler must be on the alert every just where the trout lies. if he takes it minute, though no strike is necessary in he will surely run under the log and pos bait fishing for brook trout. they firmly sibly get free, unless a sharp watch is kept hook themselves every time they go at on his movements and he is stopped by lead the bait, but the line should instantly be ing him to shallow water-gradually raising tightened. then their chances of getting the tip of the rod as the line is reeled in. away are reduced to a minimum. at times there are places where branches some seasons ago i had the privilege of lie in the water. such a place as this is fishing the upper mongaup in private water always a favorite trout lair. they seem to for about a mile. only eight feet wide and know that it is impossible to get them or two feet deep, the water rushed along ra- get at them there or even to float the bait pidly through a continuous line of laurel down to the right spot. such branches bushes which made it necessary to use often get in the way of those little circles bait. had the fish not been a good size of foam underneath which a trout is sure (nearly all fourteen inches) i could have to hide. to surmount such difficulties it filled my basket in half an hour; as it was, is a good plan to flirt the bait between the every fish i hooked darted off at a lively branches by holding the baited hook in the gait, making it necessary to give line, as left hand, and, with the rod held lightly, well as follow on; so that the morning's making it bend in a half circle, then sud catch of twelve fish averaged twenty min- denly let go the bait, shooting as near the utes' splendid play for each fish, and i can desired spot as possible. after a little safely say not one gorged the bait, all being practice, this trick can be played with ex hooked on the lips. cellent results. my first teacher on it is a rare thing to find large trout in trout stream, by long practice, could place well-fished brooks, unless they lie in the a worm in any given spot desired within deep pool of a waterfall or one made by half an inch, every time. he would have fallen tree trunks. these old fellows are six feet of line from an eight-foot rod, wary. they always go for the bait once, stealthily creep up, and gauge with his eye get hooked, and get off by some trick the exact distance he wanted to reach. i known only to themselves, till some day have often used this ficking method with an experienced angler comes along. know- success in fly fishing, when obstacles were ing just where they lie, he prepares ac- so great that casting was out of the ques- cordingly. i once hooked a large rainbow tion. but the motion requires some little trout six times before landing him- so practice to do it accurately and avoid the clever and expert had he become. he branches. fish, trout especially, love to would make a sudden dart, take the bait lie in shady spots, beneath laurel bushes clean off before i had time to respond, and and other impediments that make it diffi never venture a second time on the same cult for the angler to reach them; and they day, and after all i hooked him on the fly. will seldom let him get nearer than twelve he was beautifully marked, measuring feet, but dart away up stream if possible. eighteen inches. he had no doubt grown on coming to one of those many plank up in this small pool not more than ten bridges which cross the brooks, it is best feet square, but quite six feet deep. to leave the water, going around below the all anglers, experts or duffers, are greatly bridge, and fish up stream, under it, using indebted to the state authorities for stock- the ficker to avoid frightening the fish, ing the waters so plentifully. even if a which always lie with head up stream. brook is not stocked they will run up from under these dark bridges there usually lie the larger streams which are stocked. i a number of trout, and, if not scared away, do not advocate fishing as soon as the sea- they can, one by one, be taken. son opens; it is better to wait a week or two in these small brooks one of the most -tilf the first to the fifteenth of may, when important things to remember is to keep the water is perfectly clear and snow water out of sight. trout dash away a distance has run off. snow furries and ice remain of fifty feet in no time, and it is no use to longer than in lower altitudes—though it follow, and the only way is to leave them is true brooks clear much earlier than the for another visit later on. as we wade larger rivers. in both cases the cream of down stream, and cover every part, they trout fishing is from may to june. fly often lie in most unlikely places—in low, fishing is best during the month of june. rippling water, where the pebbles are above the water does not begin to fall low until the outing magazine june th and early july. after that that bunches of three and four worms are date little brook fishing can be done. the unnatural, and do not float down stream large fish have been taken by a long suc tied together in a knot. this is one of the cession of anglers or they have dropped most frequent mistakes made by beginners. down to deeper pools in the larger streams were they to consider awhile they would to feed on flies or young minnows. realize that the most success comes from my plan of going to the same streams exact imitation of nature. year after year has both good and bad when you do get a large fish on, stand points. i know, like a book, where they firm, raise the tip and have command of lie, and where each pool is, and that each the reel, ready at any moment to wind in pool is dominated by a fish till he is cap at the slightest sign of weakness. reel tured, when after a day or so another fish slowly and give him line if he wants it. takes his place—to be, in time, captured meanwhile have the net ready for when he likewise. we get to love certain pools as is brought up. if no net is carried en- we go down stream-pools where we had deavor to lead the fish to a shallow place luck preceding seasons and expect to have near the bank and lift him along the peb- it again; and we also know well where to bles out of the water, but not before the stop and the places to skip—which are line is reeled in as far as possible—then barren. you have more command over the fish as bait fishing in larger streams fifty or well as the rod. sixty feet across calls for entirely different worm fishing is in many respects the work. one does not proceed so rapidly, exact opposite of fly fishing. the latter and is bothered more with small finger method makes it necessary to keep the lings, which should be whipped off to avoid nose of the fish above water, whereas gorging the brook. small trout seem to be worm fishing requires it to be kept under much more inclined to swallow at a gulp water as far as it is possible. than large fish. large streams, if wad to conclude with a few salient, import- able, should be fished from the middle, the ant things to bear in mind at all times: bait cast to the left bank and floated around have small hooks, and have the barb in a semicircle to the right, the line let out sharp as a needle; fine tackle without according to the distance to each bank. badly, tied knots; the worms carefully as the river is mostly open and sunny, a placed around the hook, always alive and gentle cast so that the bait drops lightly kicking; and, most important of all, con- right under the bank is better. more fish stant watchfulness and alertness at the lie at the sides than in the middle of the half second a fish takes the bait, and then streams, as they get a larger supply of food firm, delicate handling to guide him to the at the sides. floating bugs, worms and in net. keep out of sight as much as pos- sects are caught in the shore eddies and sible; wade along without splashing and are taken by the fish, who lie in waiting floundering about. and rise every time anything appears. al worm fishing is the simplest, most prim- ways have the worm drop into these ed itive method of trout fishing; anybody dies, and allow it to float some distance can fill his creel with nice fish if he use down-at least forty feet from the tip. a little thought and care. trout are so at every few steps forward lead the bait timid, yet such bold biters and brave right across from side to side. fighters, that many fish are lost through the whole water may be covered. no bungling methods and poor tackle. many parts should be skipped, especially around more fish are not taken because the angler large bowlders and rocks, from which the shows too much of his manly form. in water turns and makes runways and rap large streams, especially open ones that ids. these are sure to yield a number are free from foliage, it is difficult to get at of fish. if not, it is unnecessary to go the fish because they see the angler plainly over the same ground twice. if fish do outlined against the sky at a considerable not respond to the first cast they are not distance, and off they go like deer. for to be taken with the second cast-move that reason the longer line is necessary. right on. personally, in these later years i rarely for such fishing a longer rod than the use the worm, finding much greater pleas- eight-foot brook rod is necessary; ure in casting the fly, and it is certainly nine feet and a half is none too long; also just as effective. but there are times when better results may be had if the hooks and worms are absolutely necessary if one wants tackle are slightly larger. but keep the to secure the quarry, and that should al- bait a reasonable size, using as heretofore ways be limited in numbers, that the next a single live worm. it is the greatest mis who comes along may in his turn also have take to imagine old fish are much more a chance to get a fair share of sport and wary than young fish, but they do know pleasure in the game. in this way one Ε m ay painting by frank e. schoonover, “they can come in and get me now." the o u ti n g magazine vol. xlviii number may, white fang* by jack london illustrated by frank e. schoonover part -the wild the trail of the meat d chapter futility of life and the effort of life. it was the wild, the savage, frozen-hearted north- land wild. ark spruce forest frowned on either but there was life, abroad in the land side the frozen waterway. the and defiant. down the frozen waterway trees had been stripped by a recent toiled a string of wolfish dogs. their wind of their white covering of frost, and bristly fur was rimed with frost. their they seemed to lean toward each other, breath froze in the air as it left their mouths, black and ominous, in the fading light. a spouting forth in spumes of vapor that vast silence reigned over the land. the settled upon the hair of their bodies and land itself was a desolation, lifeless, with formed into crystals of frost. leather har- out movement, so lone and cold that the ness was on the dogs, and leather traces at- spirit of it was not even that of sadness. tached them to a sled which dragged along there was a hint in it of laughter, but of a behind. the sled was without runners. laughter more terrible than any sadness, it was made of stout birch-bark, and its a laughter that was mirthless as the smile full surface rested on the snow. the front of the sphinx, a laughter cold as the frost end of the sled was turned up, like a scroll, and partaking of the grimness of infallibil- in order to force down and under the bore ity. it was the masterful and incommuni- of soft snow that surged like a wave before cable wisdom of eternity laughing at the it. on the sled, securely lashed, was a * copyright, , by jack london. long and narrow oblong box. there were copyrighted, , by the outing publishing company. all rights reserved. the outing magazine second cry. other things on the sled—blankets, an axe, an hour went by, and a second hour. and a coffee-pot and frying-pan; but prom the pale light of the short, sunless day was inent, occupying most of the space, was beginning to fade, when a faint, far cry the long and narrow oblong box. arose on the still air. it soared upward in advance of the dogs, on wide snow with a swift rush, till it reached its top- shoes, toiled a man. at the rear of the sled most note, where it persisted, palpitant toiled a second man. on the sled, in the and tense, and then slowly died away. it box, lay a third man, whose toil was over might have been a lost soul wailing, had it a man whom the wild had conquered and not been invested with a certain sad fierce- beaten down until he would never move ness and hungry eagerness. the front man nor struggle again. it is not the way of turned his head until his eyes met the eyes the wild to like movement. life is an of the man behind. and then, across the offense to it, for life is movement; and the narrow, oblong box, each nodded to the wild aims always to destroy movement. other. it freezes the water to prevent it running a second cry arose, piercing the silence to the sea; it drives the sap out of the trees with needle-like shrillness. both men lo- till they are frozen to their mighty hearts; cated the sound. it was to the rear, some- and most ferociously and terribly of all where in the snowy expanse they had just does the wild harry and crush into sub traversed. a third and answering cry mission man-man, who is the most rest arose, also to the rear and to the left of the less of life, ever in revolt against the dic- tum that all movement must in the end “they're after us, bill,” said the man at come to the cessation of movement. the front. but at front and rear, unawed and in his voice sounded hoarse and unreal, domitable, toiled the two men who were and he had spoken with apparent effort. not yet dead. their bodies were covered "meat is scarce,” answered his comrade. with fur and soft-tanned leather. eye- “i ain't seen a rabbit sign for days." lashes and cheeks and lips were so coated thereafter they spoke no more, though with the crystals from their frozen breath their ears were keen for the hunting-cries that their faces were not discernible. this that continued to 'rise behind them. gave them the seeming of ghostly masques, at the fall of darkness they swung the undertakers in a spectral world at the fu- dogs into a cluster of spruce trees on the neral of some ghost. but under it all they edge of the waterway and made a camp. were men, penetrating the land of desola the coffin, at the side of the fire, served for tion and mockery and silence, puny adven seat and table. the wolf-dogs, clustered turers bent on colossal adventure, pitting on the far side of the fire, snarled and bick- themselves against the might of a world ered among themselves, but evinced no as remote and alien and pulseless as the inclination to stray off into the darkness. abysses of space. “seems to me, henry, they're stayin' re- they traveled on without speech, saving markable close to camp," bill commented. their breath for the work of their bodies. henry, squatting over the fire and set- on every side was the silence, pressing tling the pot of coffee with a piece of ice, upon them with a tangible presence. it nodded. nor did he speak till he had taken affected their minds as the many atmos his seat on the coffin and begun to eat. pheres of deep water affect the body of the "they know where their hides is safe,” diver. it crushed them with the weight he said. "they'd sooner eat grub than of unending vastness and unalterable de be grub. they're pretty wise, them dogs." cree. it crushed them into the remotest bill shook his head. “oh, i don't recesses of their own minds, pressing out know." of them, like juices from the grape, all the his comrade looked at him curiously. false ardors and exaltations and undue self “first time i ever heard you say anything values of the human soul, until they per about their not bein' wise.” ceived themselves finite and small, specks "henry," said the other, munching with and motes, moving with weak cunning and deliberation the beans he was eating, "did little wisdom amidst the play and inter you happen to notice the way them dogs play of the great blind elements and forces. kicked up when i was a-feedin' 'em?” white fang "they did cut up more 'n usual," henry turning the silence into a bedlam. from acknowledged. every side the cries arose, and the dogs be- “how many dogs 've we got, henry?" trayed their fear by huddling together and “six." so close to the fire that their hair was "well, henry, .. bill stopped for scorched by the heat. bill threw on more a moment, in order that his words mightwood, before lighting his pipe. gain greater significance. "as i was “i'm thinkin' you're down in the mouth sayin', henry, we've got six dogs. i took some," henry said. six fish out of the bag. i gave one fish to "henry, he sucked medita- each dog, an', henry, i was one fish short." tively at his pipe for some time before “you counted wrong. he went on. “henry, i was a-thinkin' "we've got six dogs,” the other reit what a blame sight luckier he is than you erated dispassionately. "i took out six an' me'll ever be.” fish. one ear didn't get no fish. i come he indicated the third person by a down- back to the bag afterward an' got 'm his ward thrust of the thumb to the box on fish.” which they sat. “we've only got six dogs," henry said. “you an' me, henry, when we die we'll “henry,” bill went on. “i won't say be lucky if we get enough stones over our they was all dogs, but there was seven of carcasses to keep the dogs off of us." 'em that got fish.” "but we ain't got people an' money an’ henry stopped eating to glance across all the rest, like him," henry rejoined. the fire and count the dogs. "long-distance funerals is somethin' you “there's only six now," he said. an’ me can't exactly afford.” "i saw the other one run off across the “what gets me, henry, is what a chap snow," bill announced with cool positive- like this, that's a lord or something in his ness. “i saw seven.” own country, and that's never had to henry looked at him commiseratingly, bother about grub nor blankets, why he and said, “i'll be almighty glad when this comes a-buttin'round the god-forsaken trip's over." ends of the earth-that's what i can't ex- “what d'ye mean by that?” bill de actly see.” manded. "he might have lived to a ripe old age “i mean that this load of ourn is gettin' if he'd stayed to home," henry agreed. on your nerves, an' that you're beginnin' bill opened his mouth to speak, but to see things.” changed his mind. instead, he pointed "i thought of that,” bill answered toward the wall of darkness that pressed gravely. “an' so, when i saw it run off about them from every side. there was across the snow, i looked in the snow an' no suggestion of form in the utter black- saw its tracks. then i counted the dogs ness; only could be seen a pair of eyes an' there was still six of 'em. the tracks gleaming like live coals. henry indicated is there in the snow now. d’ye want to with his head a second pair, and a third. look at 'em? i'll show 'em to you." a circle of the gleaming eyes had drawn henry did not reply, but munched on in about their camp. now and again a pair silence, until, the meal finished, he topped of eyes moved, or disappeared to appear it with a final cup of coffee. he wiped his again a moment later. mouth with the back of his hand and said: the unrest of the dogs had been increas- “then you're thinkin' as it was ing, and they stampeded, in a surge of sud- a long, wailing cry, fiercely sad, from den fear, to the near side of the fire, cring- somewirere in the darkness, had interrupted ing and crawling about the legs of the men. him. he stopped to listen to it, then he in the scramble, one of the dogs had been finished his sentence with a wave of his overturned on the edge of the fire, and it hand toward the sound of the cry, “gone had yelped with pain and fright as the of 'em?” smell of its singed coat possessed the air. bill nodded. “i'd a blame sight sooner the commotion caused the circle of eyes think that than anything else. you noticed to shift restlessly for a moment and even yourself the row the dogs made." to withdraw a bit, but it settled down cry after cry, and answering cries, were again as the dogs became quiet. the outing magazine y ) “henry, it's a blame misfortune to be "nothin',” came the answer; "only out of ammunition.” there's seven of 'em again. i just count- bill had finished his pipe and was help- ed.” ing his companion spread the bed of fur and henry acknowledged receipt of the in- blanket upon the spruce boughs which he formation with a grunt that slid into a had laid over the snow before supper. snore as he drifted back into sleep. henry grunted, and began unlacing his in the morning it was henry who awoke moccasins. first and routed his companion out of bed. “how many cartridges did you say you daylight was yet three hours away, though had left?” he asked. it was already six o'clock; and in the dark- “three,” came the answer. "an' ness henry went about preparing break- wisht 'twas three hundred. then i'd show fast, while bill rolled the blankets and 'em what for, damn 'em!” made the sled ready for lashing. he shook his fist angrily at the gleaming "say, henry," he asked suddenly, "how eyes, and began securely to prop his moc many dogs did you say we had?” casins before the fire. "six.” "an’i wisht this cold snap 'd break,” he "wrong," bill proclaimed triumphantly. went on. "it's ben fifty below for two “seven again?" henry queried. weeks now. an' i wisht i'd never started “no, five; one's gone.” on this trip, henry. i don't like the looks “the hell!” henry cried in wrath, leav- of it. it don't feel right, somehow. an’ ing the cooking to come and count the dogs. while i'm wishin', i wisht the trip was over “you're right, bill,” he concluded. an' done with, an' you an’ me a-sittin' by “fatty's gone.” the fire in fort mcgurry just about now an’ “an' he went like greased lightnin' once playin' cribbage—that's what i wisht.” he got started. couldn't 've seen 'm for henry grunted and crawled into bed. smoke.” as he dozed off he was aroused by his com “no chance at all," henry concluded. rade's voice. “they jes' swallowed 'm alive. i bet he “say, henry, that other one that come was yelpin' as he went down their throats, in an' got a fish-why didn't the dogs pitch damn 'em!” into it? that's what's botherin' me.” “he always was a fool dog," said bill. “you're botherin' too much, bill,” came "but no fool dog ought to be fool enough the sleepy response. “you was never like to go off an' commit suicide that way.” this before. you jes’ shut up, now, an' go he looked over the remainder of the team to sleep, an' you'll be all hunkydory in with a speculative eye that summed up in- the mornin'. your stomach's sour, that's stantly the salient traits of each animal. what's botherin' you." “i bet none of the others would do it.” the men slept, breathing heavily, side by “couldn't drive 'em away from the fire side, under the one covering. the fire died with a club," bill agreed. "i always did down, and the gleaming eyes drew closer think there was somethin' wrong with the circle they had flung about the camp. fatty, anyway." the dogs clustered together in fear, now and this was the epitaph of a dead dog and again snarling menacingly as a pair on the northland trail-less scant than the of eyes drew close. once, their uproar be- epitaph of many another dog, of many a came so loud that bill woke up. he got out of bed carefully, so as not to disturb the chapter ii sleep of his comrade, and threw more wood on the fire. as it began to flame up, the the she-wolf circle of eyes drew farther back. he glanced casually at the huddling dogs. he rubbed breakfast eaten and the slim camp-outfit his eyes and looked at them more sharply. lashed to the sled, the men turned their then he crawled back into the blankets. backs on the cheery fire and launched out "henry," he said. "oh, henry." into the darkness. at once began to rise henry groaned as he passed from sleep the cries that were fiercely sad—cries that to waking, and demanded, “what's wrong called through the darkness and cold to now?" one another and answered back. con- ) man. white fang versation ceased. daylight came at nine staring at the fire and bill at the circle of o'clock. at midday the sky to the south eyes that burned in the darkness just be- warmed to rose-color, and marked where yond the fire-light. the bulge of the earth intervened between “i wisht we was pullin' into mcgurry the meridian sun and the northern world. right now," he began again. but the rose-color swiftly faded. the gray “shut up your wishin' an' your croak- light of day that remained lasted until in'," henry burst out angrily. "your three o'clock, when it, too, faded, and the stomach's sour. that's what's ailin' you. pall of the arctic night descended upon the swallow a spoonful of sody, an' you'll lone and silent land. sweeten up wonderful an' be more pleasant as darkness came on, the hunting cries company. to right and left and rear drew closer-so in the morning henry was aroused by close that more than once they sent surges fervid blasphemy that proceeded from the of fear through the toiling dogs, throwing mouth of bill. henry propped himself up them into short-lived panics. on an elbow and looked to see his comrade at the conclusion of one such panic, when standing among the dogs beside the re- he and henry had got the dogs back in the plenished fire, his arms raised in objura- traces, bill said: tion, his face distorted with passion. "i wisht they'd strike game somewheres, “hello!” henry called. “what's up an' go away an' leave us alone.” now?” “they do get on the nerves horrible,” “frog's gone,” came the answer. henry sympathized. “no!” they spoke no more until camp was “i tell you yes.” made. henry leaped out of the blankets and henry was bending over and adding ice to the dogs. he counted them with care to the bubbling pot of beans when he was and then joined his partner in cursing the startled by the sound of a blow, an ex powers of the wild that had robbed them clamation from bill, and a sharp, snarling of another dog. cry of pain from among the dogs. he “frog was the strongest dog of the straightened up in time to see a dim form bunch," bill pronounced finally. disappearing across the snow into the "an' he was no fool dog neither,” henry shelter of the dark. then he saw bill, added. standing amid the dogs, half triumphant, and so was recorded the second epitaph half crestfallen, in one hand a stout club, in two days. in the other the tail and part of the body of * a gloomy breakfast was eaten, and the a sun-cured salmon. four remaining dogs were harnessed to "it got half of it,” he announced; "but the sled. the day was a repetition of i got a whack at it jes’ the same. d'ye the days that had gone before. the men hear it squeal?" toiled without speech across the face of the “what 'd it look like?" henry asked. frozen world. the silence was unbroken “couldn't see. but it had four legs an' save by the cries of their pursuers, that, a mouth an' hair an' looked like any dog." unseen, hung upon their rear. with the “must be a tame wolf, i reckon." coming of night in the mid-afternoon the "it's damned tame, whatever it is, cries sounded closer, as the pursuers drew comin' in here at feedin' time an' gettin' in according to their custom; and the dogs its whack of fish.” grew excited and frightened, and were that night, when supper was finished guilty of panics that tangled the traces and and they sat on the oblong box and pulled further depressed the two men. at their pipes, the circle of gleaming eyes “there, that 'll fix you fool critters," drew in even closer than before. bill said with satisfaction that night, stand- "i wisht they'd spring up a bunch of ing erect at completion of his task. moose or something, an' go away an' leave henry left his cooking to come and see. us alone,” bill said. not only had his partner tied the dogs up, henry grunted with an intonation that but he had tied them, after the indian was not all sympathy, and for a quarter of fashion, with sticks. about the neck of an hour they sat on in silence, henry each dog he had fastened a leather thong. the outing magazine to this, and so close to the neck that the the fire crackled. a log fell apart with dog could not get his teeth to it, he had a loud, spluttering noise. at the sound of tied a stout stick four or five feet in length. it the strange animal leaped back into the the other end of the stick, in turn, was darkness. made fast to a stake in the ground by “henry, i'm a-thinkin',” bill announced. means of a leather thong. the dog was "thinkin' what?” unable to gnaw through the leather at his "i'm a-thinkin' that was the one i lam- own end of the stick. the stick prevented basted with the club." him from getting at the leather that fast “ain't the slightest doubt in the world,” ened the other end. was henry's response. henry nodded his head approvingly. "an' right here i want to remark,” bill "it's the only contraption that 'll ever went on, “that that animal's familiarity hold one ear," he said. “he can gnaw with camp fires is suspicious an' immoral.” through leather as clean as a knife an' jes’ “it knows for certain more 'n a self- about half as quick. they all 'll be here respectin' wolf ought to know,” henry in the mornin' hunkydory.” agreed. "a wolf that knows enough to "you jes' bet they will,” bill affirmed, come in with the dogs at feedin' time has "if one of 'em turns up missin' i'll go with had experiences." out my coffee.” “ol' villan had a dog once that run "they jes' know we ain't loaded to away with the wolves,” bill cogitated aloud. kill,” henry remarked at bedtime, indi “i ought to know. i shot it out of the cating the gleaming circle that hemmed pack in a moose pasture over on little them in. "if we could put a couple of stick. an' ol villan cried like a baby. shots into 'em they'd be more respectful. hadn't seen it for three years, he said. they come closer every night. get the ben with the wolves all that time.” fire-light out of your eyes an' look hard “i reckon you've called the turn, bill. there! did you see that one?” that wolf's a dog, an' it's eaten fish many's for some time the two men amused the time from the hand of man." themselves with watching the movement of “an' if i get a chance at it, that wolf vague forms on the edge of the fire-light. that's a dog'll be jes' meat,” bill de- by looking closely and steadily at where a clared. “we can't afford to lose no more pair of eyes burned in the darkness, the animals.” form of the animal would slowly take "but you've only got three cartridges," shape. they could even see these forms henry objected. move at times. “i'll wait for a dead sure shot," was the a sound among the dogs attracted the reply. men's attention. one ear was uttering in the morning henry renewed the fire quick, eager whines, lunging at the length and cooked breakfast to the accompani- of his stick toward the darkness, and de ment of his partner's snoring. sisting now and again in order to make “you was sleepin' jes' too comfortable frantic attacks on the stick with his teeth. for anything,” henry told him as he routed “look at that, bill,” henry whispered him out for breakfast. "i hadn't the full into the fire-light, with a stealthy, heart to rouse you." sidelong movement, glided a dog-like ani bill began sleepily to eat. he noticed mal. it moved with commingled mistrust that his cup was empty, and started to and daring, cautiously observing the men, reach for the pot. but the pot was be- its attention fixed on the dogs. one ear yond arm's length and beside henry. strained the full length of the stick toward “say, henry,” he chided gently; "ain't the intruder and whined with eagerness. you forgot somethin'?” “that fool one ear don't seem scairt henry looked about with great careful- much,” bill said in a low tone. ness and shook his head. bill held up the "it's a she-wolf," henry whispered empty cup. back, “an' that accounts for fatty an' "you don't get no coffee,” henry an- frog. she's the decoy for the pack. she nounced. draws out the dog an' then all the rest “ain't run out?” bill asked anxiously. pitches in an' eats 'm up." "nope.” white fang bill, "ain't thinkin' it 'll hurt my digestion?" whistle. they've ate the leather offen "nope." both ends. they're damn hungry, henry, a flush of angry blood pervaded bill's an' they'll have you an' me guessin' before face. this trip's over. “then it's jes' warm an' anxious i am henry laughed defiantly. "i ain't been to be hearin' you explain yourself," he said. trailed this way by wolves before, but i've “spanker's gone, henry answered. gone through a whole lot worse an' kept without haste, with the air of one re my health. takes more 'n a handful of signed to misfortune, bill turned his head them pesky critters to do for yours truly, and from where he sat counted the dogs. my son.” “how'd it happen?" he asked apatheti “i don't know, i don't know,” bill mut- cally. tered ominously. henry shrugged his shoulders. “don't "well, you'll know all right when we know. unless one ear gnawed 'm loose. pull into mcgurry.” he couldn't 'a' done it himself, that's sure.” "i ain't feelin' special enthusiastic,” bill "the darned cuss." bill spoke gravely persisted. and slowly, with no hint of the anger that “you're off color, that's what's the mat- was raging within. “jes' because he ter with you,” henry dogmatized. “what couldn't chew himself loose, he chews you need is quinine, an' i'm goin' to dose spanker loose.” you up stiff as soon as we make mcgurry." "well, spanker's troubles is over any bill grunted his disagreement with the way; i guess he's digested by this time an' diagnosis, and lapsed into silence. the day cavortin' over the landscape in the bellies was like all the days. light came at nine of twenty different wolves,” was henry's o'clock. at twelve o'clock the southern epitaph on this, the latest lost dog. “have horizon was warmed by the unseen sun; and some coffee, bill?” then began the cold gray of afternoon that but bill shook his head. would merge, three hours later, into night. "go on," henry pleaded, elevating the it was just after the sun's futile effort pot. to appear that bill slipped the rifle from bill shoved his cup aside. “i'll be ding under the sled lashings and said: dong-danged if i do. i said i wouldn't if “you keep right on, henry. i'm goin' ary dog turned up missin', an' i won't.” to see what i can see.” “it's darn good coffee,” henry said en “you'd better stick by the sled,” his ticingly. partner protested. “you've only got but bill was stubborn, and he ate a dry three cartridges, an' there's no tellin' what breakfast, washed down with mumbled might happen.” curses at one ear for the trick he had “who's croakin' now?” bill demanded played. triumphantly. "i'll tie 'em up out of reach of each other henry made no reply, and plodded on to-night,” bill said, as they took the trail. alone, though often he cast anxious glances they had traveled little more than a back into the gray solitude where his part- hundred yards, when henry, who was in ner had disappeared. an hour later, tak- front, bent down and picked up something ing advantage of the cut-offs around which with which his snowshoe had collided. it the sled had to go, bill arrived. was dark, and he could not see but he "they're scattered an' rangin' along recognized it by the touch. he flung it wide," he said; "keepin' up with us an' back, so that it struck the sled and bounced lookin' for game at the same time. you along until it fetched up on bill's snow see, they're sure of us, only they know shoes. they've got to wait to get us. in the mean- "mebbe you'll need that in your busi time they're willin' to pick up anything ness," henry said. eatable that comes handy.” bill uttered an exclamation. it was all "you mean they think they're sure of that was left of spanker-the stick with us," henry objected pointedly. which he had been tied. but bill ignored him. “i seen some of “they ate 'm de an' all,” bill an them. they're pretty thin. they ain't nounced. “the stick's as clean as had a bite in weeks, i reckon, outside of a the outing magazine fatty an' frog an’ spanker; an' there's redness of color not classifiable in terms of so many of 'em that that didn't go far. ordinary experience. they're remarkable thin. their ribs is like “looks for all the world like a big, husky washboards, an' their stomachs is right up sled-dog," bill said. “i wouldn't be against their backbones. they're pretty s'prised to see it wag its tail. desperate, i can tell you. they'll be goin' hello, you husky!” he called "come mad, yet, an' then watch out." here, you, whatever-your-name-is!" a few minutes later henry, who was "ain't a bit scairt of you," henry now traveling behind the sled, emitted laughed. low, warning whistle. bill turned and bill waved his hand at it threateningly looked, then quietly stopped the dogs and shouted loudly; but the animal be- to the rear, from around the last bend and trayed no fear. the only change in it that plainly into view, on the very trail they they could notice was an accession of alert- had just covered, trotted a furry, slinking ness. it still regarded them with the mer- form. its nose was to the trail, and it ciless wistfulness of hunger. they were trotted with a peculiar sliding effortless meat, and it was hungry; and it would like gait. when they halted, it halted, throw to go in and eat them if it dared. ing up its head and regarding them steadily “look here, henry,” bill said, uncon- with nostrils that twitched as it caught sciously lowering his voice to a whisper be- and studied the scent of them. cause of what he meditated. “we've got "it's the she-wolf," bill whispered. three cartridges. but it's a dead shot. the dogs had lain down in the snow, and couldn't miss it. it's got away with three he walked past them to join his partner of our dogs, an’ we oughter put a stop to at the sled. together they watched the it. what d'ye say?” strange animal that had pursued them for henry nodded his consent. bill cau- days and that had already accomplished tiously slipped the gun from under the the destruction of half their dog-team. sled lashing. the gun was on the way to after a searching scrutiny the animal his shoulder, but it never got there. for trotted forward a few steps. this it re in that instant the she-wolf leaped side- peated several times, till it was a short wise from the trail into the clump of spruce hundred yards away. it paused, head up, trees and disappeared. close by a clump of spruce trees, and with the two men looked at each other. sight and scent studied the outfit of the henry whistled long and comprehendingly. watching men. it looked at them in a "i might have knowed it,” bill chided strangely wistful way, after the manner himself aloud, as he replaced the gun. “of of a dog; but in its wistfulness there was course a wolf that knows enough to come none of the dog affection. it was a wist in with the dogs at feedin' time, 'd know fulness bred of hunger, as cruel as its own all about shooting-irons. i tell you right fangs, as merciless as the frost itself. now, henry, that critter's the cause of all it was large for a wolf, its gaunt frame our trouble. we'd have six dogs at the advertising the lines of an animal that was present time, 'stead of three, if it wasn't among the largest of its kind. for her. an' i tell you right now, henry, “stands pretty close to two feet an'a i'm goin' to get her. she's too smart to half at the shoulders,” henry commented. be shot in the open. but i'm goin' to lay “an' i'll bet it ain't far from five feet long.” for her. i'll bushwhack her as sure as my “kind of strange color for a wolf,” was name is bill.” bill's criticism. “i never seen a red wolf “you needn't stray off too far in doin' before. looks almost cinnamon to me.” it,” his partner admonished. “if that the animal was certainly not cinnamon pack ever starts to jump you, them three colored. its coat was the true wolf coat. cartridges 'd be wuth no more 'n three the dominant color was gray, and yet whoops in hell. them animals is damn there was to it a faint, reddish hue-a hue hungry, an' once they start in they'll sure that was baffing, that appeared and dis- get you, bill." appeared, that was more like an illusion of they camped early that night. three the vision, now gray, distinctly gray, and dogs could not drag the sled so fast nor for again giving hints and glints of a vague so long hours as could six, and they were white fang showing unmistakable signs of playing out. forced to unharness the dogs in order to and the men went early to bed, bill first straighten out the tangle. the two men seeing to it that the dogs were tied out of were bent over the sled and trying to right gnawing reach of one another. it, when henry observed one ear sidling but the wolves were growing bolder, and away. the men were roused more than once from “here, you, one ear!” he cried, straight- their sleep. so near did the wolves ap- ening up and turning around on the dog. proach that the dogs became frantic with but one ear broke into a run across the terror, and it was necessary to replenish snow, his traces trailing behind him. and the fire from time to time in order to keep there, out in the snow of their back track, the adventurous marauders at safer dis was the she-wolf waiting for him. as he tance. neared her, he became suddenly cautious. “i've hearn sailors talk of sharks fol he slowed down to an alert and mincing lowin' a ship,” bill remarked, as he crawled walk and then stopped. he regarded her back into the blankets after one such re carefully and dubiously, yet desirefully. plenishing of the fire. "well, theny wolves she seemed to smile at him, showing her is land sharks. they know their business teeth in an ingratiating rather than a better 'n we do, an' they ain't a-holdin' menacing way. she moved toward him a our trail this way for their health. they're few steps, playfully, and then halted. one goin' to get us. they're sure goin' to get ear drew near to her, still alert and cau- us, henry." tious, his tail and ears in the air, his head "they've half got you a'ready, a-talkin' held high. like that,” henry retorted sharply. “a he tried to sniff noses with her, but she man's half licked when he says he is. an’ retreated playfully and coyly. every ad- you're half eaten from the way you're goin' vance on his part was accompanied by a on about it." corresponding retreat on her part. step “they've got away with better men than by step she was luring him away from you an' me,” bill answered. the security of his human companionship. “oh, shet up your croakin'. you make once, as though a warning had in vague me all-fired tired." ways filtered through his intelligence, he henry rolled over angrily on his side, but turned his head and looked back at the was surprised that bill made no similar dis overturned sled, at his team mates and at play of temper. this was not bill's way, the two men who were calling to him. for he was easily angered by sharp words. but whatever idea was forming in his henry thought long over it before he went mind was dissipated by the she-wolf, who to sleep, and as his eyelids fluttered down advanced upon him, sniffed noses with him and he dozed off, the thought in his mind for a fleeting instant and then resumed her was: “there's no mistakin' it, bill's al coy retreat before his renewed advances. mighty blue. i'll have to cheer him up in the meantime bill had bethought to-morrow." himself of the rifle. but it was jammed beneath the overturned sled, and by the chapter iii time henry had helped him to right the load, one ear and the she-wolf were too close together and the distance too great to the day began auspiciously. they had risk a shot. lost no dogs during the night, and they too late one ear learned his mistake. swung out upon the trail and into the si before they saw the cause the two men lence, the darkness and the cold, with saw him turn and start to run back toward spirits that were fairly light. bill seemed them. then, approaching at right angles to have forgotten his forebodings of the to the trail and cutting off his retreat, previous night, and even waxed facetious they saw a dozen wolves, lean and gray, with the dogs when, at midday, they over bounding across the snow. on the in- turned the sled on a bad piece of trail. stant, the she wolf's coyness and playful- it was an awkward mix-up. the sled ness disappeared. with a snarl she sprang was upside down and jammed between a upon one ear. he thrust her off with his tree trunk and a huge rock, and they were shoulder, and, his retreat cut off and still the hunger cry the outing magazine arm. intent on regaining the sled, he altered his it had taken place before his eyes. once course in an attempt to circle around to it. he roused with a start and hastily got the more wolves were appearing every moment axe out from underneath the lashings. but and joining in the chase. the she-wolf for some time longer he sat and brooded, was one leap behind one ear and holding the two remaining dogs crouching and her own. trembling at his feet. "where are you goin'?" henry suddenly at last he arose in a weary manner, as demanded, laying his hand on his partner's though all the resilience had gone out of his body, and proceeded to fasten the dogs to bill shook it off. “i won't stand it," he the sled. he passed a rope over his shoul- said. “they ain't a-goin' to get any more der, a man-trace, and pulled with the dogs. of our dogs if i can help it.” he did not go far. at the first hint of gun in hand, he plunged into the under darkness he hastened to make a camp, and brush that lined the side of the trail. his he saw to it that he had a generous supply intention was apparent enough. taking of firewood. he fed the dogs, cooked and the sled as the center of the circle that one ate his supper, and made his bed close to ear was making, bill planned to tap that the fire. circle at a point in advance of the pursuit. but he was not destined to enjoy that with his rifle, in the broad daylight, it bed. before his eyes closed the wolves had might be possible for him to awe the wolves drawn too near for safety. it no longer and save the dog. required an effort of the vision to see them. “say, bill!” henry called after him. they were all about him and the fire, in "be careful! don't take no chances!” a narrow circle, and he could see them henry sat down on the sled and watched. plainly in the firelight, lying down, sit- there was nothing else for him to do. bill ting up, crawling forward on their bellies, or had already gone from sight; but now and slinking back and forth. they even slept. again, appearing and disappearing amongst here and there he could see one curled up the underbrush and the scattered clumps in the snow like a dog, taking the sleep of spruce, could be seen one ear. henry that was now denied himself. judged his case to be hopeless. the dog he kept the fire brightly blazing, for he was thoroughly alive to its danger, but it knew that it alone intervened between the was running on the outer circle, while the flesh of his body and their hungry fangs. wolf-pack was running on the inner and his two dogs stayed close by him, one on shorter circle. it was vain to think of one either side, leaning against him for pro- ear so outdistancing his pursuers as to be tection, crying and whimpering, and at able to cut across their circle in advance of times snarling desperately when a wolf ap- them and to regain the sled. proached a little closer than usual. at the different lines were rapidly ap such moments, when his dogs snarled, the proaching a point. somewhere out there whole circle would be agitated, the wolves in the snow, screened from the sight by coming to their feet and pressing tenta- trees and thickets, henry knew that the tively forward, a chorus of snarls and eager wolf-pack, one ear and bill were coming yelps rising about him. then the circle together. all too quickly, far more quickly would lie down again, and here and there than he had expected, it happened. he a wolf would resume its broken nap. heard a shot, then two shots in rapid suc but this circle had a continuous ten- cession, and he knew that bill's ammuni dency to draw in upon him. bit by bit- tion was gone. then he heard a great out an inch at a time, with here a wolf bellying cry of snarls and yelps. he recognized forward, and there a wolf bellying forward, one ear's yell of pain and terror, and he the circle would narrow until the brutes heard a wolf-cry that bespoke a stricken were almost within springing distance. animal. and that was all. the snarls then he would seize brands from the fire ceased the yelping died away. silence and hurl them into the pack. a hasty settled down again over the lonely land. drawing back always resulted, accompanied he sat for a long while upon the sled. by angry yelps and frightened snarls when there was no need for him to go and see a well-aimed and struck and scorched a what had happened. he knew it as though too-daring animal. white fang morning found the man haggard and sessive eye, as if, in truth, he were merely worn, wide-eyed from want of sleep. he a delayed meal that was soon to be eaten. cooked breakfast in the darkness, and at this certitude was shown by the whole nine o'clock, when, with the coming of pack. fully a score he could count, star- daylight, the wolf-pack drew back, he set ing hungrily at him or calmly sleeping in about the task he had planned through the the snow. they reminded him of children long hours of the night. chopping down gathered about a spread table and await- young saplings, he made them cross-bars of ing permission to begin to eat! and he a scaffold by lashing them high up to the was the food they were to eat! he won- trunks of standing trees. using the sled dered how and when the meal would begin. lashing for a heaving rope, and with the as he piled wood on the fire he discovered aid of the dogs, he hoisted the coffin to the an appreciation of his own body which he top of the scaffold. had never felt before. he watched his “they got bill, an' they may get me, but moving muscles and was interested in the they'll sure never get you, young man,” cunning mechanism of his fingers. by the he said, addressing the dead body in its light of the fire he crooked his fingers slowly tree-sepulcher. and repeatedly, now one at a time, now all then he took the trail, the lightened sled together, spreading them wide or making bounding along behind the willing dogs; quick, gripping movements. he studied for they, too, knew that safety lay only in the nail-formation, and prodded the finger- the gaining of fort mcgurry. the wolves tips, now sharply, and again softly, gaug- were now more open in their pursuit, trot ing the while the nerve-sensations pro- ting sedately behind and ranging along on duced. it fascinated him, and he grew either side, their red tongues lolling out, suddenly fond of this subtle flesh of his their lean sides showing the undulating that worked so beautifully and smoothly ribs with every movement. they were and delicately. then he would cast a very lean, mere skin-bags stretched over glance of fear at the wolf-circle drawn ex- bony frames, with strings for muscles—so pectantly about him, and like a blow the lean that henry found it in his mind to realization would strike him that this won- marvel that they still kept their feet and derful body of his, this living flesh, was no did not collapse forthright in the snow. more than so much meat, a quest of raven- he did not dare travel until dark. at ous animals, to be torn and slashed by midday, not only did the sun warm the their hungry fangs, to be sustenance to southern horizon, but it even thrust its them as the moose and the rabbit had upper rim, pale and golden, above the sky often been sustenance to him. line. he received it as a sign. the days he came out of a doze that was half were growing longer. the sun nightmare, to see the red-hued she-wolf turning. but scarcely had the cheer of before him. she was not more than half a its light departed than he went into camp. dozen feet away, sitting in the snow and there were still several hours of gray day- wistfully regarding him. the two dogs light and somber twilight, and he utilized were whimpering and snarling at his feet, them in chopping an enormous supply of but she took no notice of them. she was firewood. looking at the man, and for some time he with night came horror. not only were returned her look. there was nothing the starving wolves growing bolder, but threatening about her. she looked at him lack of sleep was telling upon henry. he merely with a great wistfulness, but he dozed despite himself, crouching by the knew it to be the wistfulness of an equally fire, the blankets about his shoulders, the great hunger. he was the food, and the axe between his knees, and on either side a sight of him excited in her the gustatory dog pressing close against him. he awoke sensations. her mouth opened, the saliva once and saw in front of him, not a dozen drooled forth, and she licked her chops feet away, a big gray wolf, one of the with the pleasure of anticipation. largest of the pack. and even as he looked a spasm of fear went through him. he the brute deliberately stretched himself after reached hastily for a brand to throw at her. the manner of a lazy dog, yawning full in but even as he reached, and before his his face and looking upon him with a pos- fingers had closed on the missile, she sprang was re- the outing magazine back into safety; and he knew that she was smell of burning flesh and hair, he watched used to having things thrown at her. she her shaking her head and growling wrath- had snarled as she sprang away, baring her fully a score of feet away. white fangs to their roots, all her wistful but this time, before he dozed again, he ness vanishing, being replaced by a car tied a burning pine-knot to his right hand. nivorous malignity that made him shud his eyes were closed but a few minutes der. he glanced at the hand that held the when the burn of the flame on his flesh awak- brand, noticing the cunning delicacy of the ened him. for several hours he adhered to fingers that gripped it, how they adjusted this programme. every time he was thus themselves to all the inequalities of the awakened he drove back the wolves with surface, curling over and under and about flying brands, replenishing the fire, and re- the rough wood, and in the same instant he arranged the pine-knot on his hand. all seemed to see a vision of those same sensi worked well, but there came a time when he tive and delicate fingers being crushed and fastened the pine-knot insecurely. as his torn by the white teeth of the she-wolf. eyes closed it fell away from his hand. never had he been so fond of this body of he dreamed. it seemed to him that he his as now when his tenure of it was so was in fort mcgurry. it was warm and precarious. comfortable, and he was playing cribbage all night, with burning brands, he fought with the factor. also, it seemed to him off the hungry pack. when he dozed, that the fort was besieged by wolves. despite himself, the whimpering and snarl they were howling at the very gates, and ing of the dogs aroused him. morning sometimes he and the factor paused from came, but for the first time the light of day the game to listen and laugh at the fu- failed to scatter the wolves. the man tile efforts of the wolves to get in. and waited in vain for them to go. they re then, so strange was the dream, there was mained in a circle about his fire, displaying a crash. the door was burst open. he an arrogance of possession that shook his could see the wolves flooding into the hig courage born of the morning light. living-room of the fort. they were leap- he made one desperate attempt to pull ing straight for him and the factor. with out on the trail. but the moment he left the bursting open of the door, the noise of the protection of the fire the boldest wolf their howling had increased tremendously. leaped for him, but leaped short. he this howling now bothered him. his saved himself by springing back, the jaws dream was merging into something else snapping together a scant six inches from he knew not what; but through it all, fol- his thigh. the rest of the pack was now lowing him, persisted the howling. up and surging upon him, and a throwing and then he awoke to find the howling of firebrands right and left was necessary real. there was a great snarling and yelp- to drive them back to a respectful distance. ing. the wolves were rushing him. they even in the daylight he did not dare were all about him and upon him. the leave the fire to chop fresh wood. twenty teeth of one had closed upon his arm. in- feet away towered a huge dead spruce. he stinctively he leaped into the fire, and as spent half the day extending his camp fire he leaped he felt the sharp slash of teeth to the tree. that tore through the flesh of his leg. the night was a repetition of the night then began a fire fight. his stout mittens before, save that the need for sleep was be temporarily protected his hands, and he coming overpowering. the snarling of his scooped live coals into the air in all direc- dogs was losing its efficacy. besides, they tions until the camp fire took on the sem- were snarling all the time, and his be blance of a volcano. numbed and drowsy senses no longer took but it could not last long. his face was note of changing pitch and intensity. he blistering in the heat, his eyebrows and awoke with a start. the she-wolf was less lashes were singed off, and the heat was than a yard from him. mechanically, at becoming unbearable to his feet. with a short range, without letting go of it, he flaming brand in each hand, he sprang to thrust a brand full into her open and the edge of the fire. the wolves had been snarling mouth. she sprang away, yelling she sprang away, yelling driven back. on every side, wherever the with pain, and while he took delight in the live coals had fallen, the snow was sizzling, white fang and every little while a retiring wolf, with into segments with openings in between. wild leap and snarl, announced that one these openings grew in size, the segments such live coal had been stepped upon. diminished. flinging his brands at the nearest of his "i guess you can come an' get me any enemies, the man thrust his smoldering time,” he mumbled. “anyway, i'm goin' mittens into the snow and stamped about to sleep.” to cool his feet. his two dogs were miss once he wakened, and in an opening in ing, and he well knew that they had served the circle, directly in front of him, he saw as a course in the protracted meal which the she-wolf gazing at him. had begun days before with fatty, the last again he awakened, a little later, though course of which would likely be himself in it seemed hours to him. a mysterious the days to follow. change had taken place --so mysterious a “you ain't got me yet!” he cried, sav change that he was shocked wider awake. agely shaking his fist at the hungry beasts. something had happened. he could not he set to work to carry out a new idea understand at first. then he discovered that had come to him. he extended the it. the wolves were gone. remained fire into a large circle. inside this circle only the trampled snow to show how closely he crouched, his sleeping outfit under him they had pressed him. sleep was welling as a protection against the melting snow. up and gripping him again, his head was when he had thus disappeared within his sinking down upon his knees, when he shelter of flame, the whole pack came cu roused with a sudden start. riously to the rim of the fire to see what there were cries of men, the churn of had become of him. hitherto they had sleds, the creaking of harnesses, and the been denied access to the fire, and they now eager whimpering of straining dogs. four settled down in a close-drawn circle, like sleds pulled in from the river bed to the so many dogs, blinking and yawning and camp among the trees. half a dozen men stretching their lean bodies in the unac were about the man who crouched in the customed warmth. then the she-wolf sat center of the dying fire. they were shak- down, pointed her nose at a star, and began ing and prodding him into consciousness. to howl. one by one the wolves joined he looked at them like a drunken man and her, till the whole pack, on haunches, with maundered in strange, sleepy speech: noses pointed skyward, was howling its “red she-wolf-come in with the dogs hunger-cry. at feedin' time—first she ate the dog food dawn came, and daylight. the fire was --then she ate the dogs-an' after that burning low. the fuel had run out, and she ate bill there was need to get more. the man at “where's lord alfred?” one of the men tempted to step out of his circle of flame, bellowed in his ear, shaking him roughly. but the wolves surged to meet him. burn he shook his head slowly. “no, she ing brands made them spring aside, but didn't eat him-he's roostin' in a tree at they no longer sprang back. in vain he the last camp.” strove to drive them back. as he gave “dead?” the man shouted. up and stumbled inside his circle a wolf “an' in a box,” henry answered. he leaped for him, missed, and landed with jerked his shoulder petulantly away from all four feet in the coals. it cried out the grip of his questioner. “say, you with terror, at the same time snarling, and lemme alone, i'm jes' plumb tuckered out scrambled back to cool its paws in the goo'-night, everybody." snow. his eyes fluttered and went shut. his the man sat down on his blankets in a chin fell forward on his chest. and even crouching position. his body leaned for as they eased him down upon the blankets ward from the hips. his shoulders, re his snores were rising on the frosty air. laxed and drooping, and his head on his but there was another sound. far and knees, advertised that he had given up the faint it was, in the remote distance—the struggle. now and again he raised his cry of the hungry wolf-pack as it took the head to note the dying down of the fire. trail of other meat than the man it had the circle of flame and coals was breaking just missed. (to be continued.) young summer by maria k. lamb hills after hills, a sea of billows, and everywhere a brook with feathery willows. fern-scented woods in every glade, where ghostly silver birches haunt the shade. fringing the roads, the happy summer flowers while lazily away the sunny hours. at hide-and-seek among the maple trees, the sun in varied mood plays through the leaves. wide pastures bare, with lichen-covered rocks; above, the mackerel clouds, in little flocks. a far cascade, a bridal veil of white, greets with its murmurings the coming night. mimic royalties of may day by david lansing photographs by james burton and the author wenty thousand really own the park, and make known the children in one fact with shouts and laughter that echo may party, with from every glade and slope. so many queens the children who stream through the t and courts that city streets in proudly parading columns central park is with banners and garlands to “have a like a fairyland, may party,” do not come from the homes this is one of the whose pampered darlings are permitted springtime sights conventionally to promenade in the park of new york, in charge of chattering nursemaids. these which wafts to the hearts of those who be latter unfortunates are rather to be pitied hold it a quickening kind of sentiment that than envied in may time. they are too makes them young again. one may party exclusive to romp in the wake of the may twenty thousand strong would be a unique queen of the "thirty-second election dis- carnival in any other city of the world. in trict." for these tumultuous thousands central park it is almost lost in the gay come from the poorest quarters of new succession of such festivities which turn a york, and "ice-cream an' cake an' lemon- laughing tide of children over the grass and ade” are so rare a holiday distraction that under the trees through the months of may they alone would make the memory of the and june. an organized invasion five may party glorious without the pomp of thousand strong is hardly worth notice, royalty. and the casual bystander with the leisure now, the reformer will tell you that the to attempt a census of this movement of machine is the curse of civic government, diminutive population would think him and that the district leader is the main- self conservative if he reckoned that a mil- spring of the machine. therefore, he is to lion children streamed through the gates of be abhorred as wholly bad by all good cit- the park and scattered among its green hills izens. but speaking as the devil's advo- during the sweetest, freshest month of all cate, there is this to be said about the little bosses of new york and other cities, that the mimic royalties of these may days they are close to their people. incongru- find no “keep off the grass” signs. the ous as it may seem to the gentleman who verdured stretches of park-land are theirs theorizes about government in his club for the asking. civic power in the guise window, the district leader is a public of a large and good-humored policeman benefactor of no small importance, and his graciously grants written permits to a public is comprised of his neighbors, who properly organized party with its queen, keep him in power. maids of honor, and train of courtiers and herein he displays the virtues of a sov- subjects duly escorted by "grown-ups." ereign devoted to the needs of his subjects. and with these magic documents, sover. they repay him in an allegiance that is eignty is extended for a day over the measured in votes. also, he is wise enough city's greatest playground. the classes to catch the voters while they are young. may whirl along the flawless driveways in his is the hand that guides the may party, victorias and automobiles, but the masses and his is the pocket that supplies the funds. the year. i the outing magazine it is no trifling undertaking. there is running about like spilled quicksilver-all keen rivalry among the new york election were americans on this day. for every districts for the record of parading the boy wore a paper cap of red, white and greatest number of children at the annual blue, and every little girl carried a tiny may party. last year state senator flag. this, indeed, was part of the method frawley was the proud benefactor of by which their patron and host sought to twenty-five thousand children, not count make them good americans and loyal ing their mothers and fathers and other voters. invited guests. the refreshments included when the cohorts were marshaled with five tons of cake, two and a half tons of incredible difficulty, and something like a ice-cream, six thousand gallons of lemon- procession began to trail through the ade, five tons of candy and twenty-five swarming streets, there was something thousand oranges. quite inspiring in the sight. these were his diamonds scintillating, a bouquet as americans in the making, and when the big as a head of cauliflower in his button bands played, “my country, 'tis of thee,” hole, and an american flag tied to his gold- thousands of shrill young voices caught up headed cane, senator frawley marched to the refrain, and the hymn of the nation the park at the head of his battalions, a rolled on down the trailing columns until proud and beaming figure of a man. nor these little ones, whose fathers and mothers did his duties end when the “ kids had been had come from many lands far over-seas, turned loose.” he held a court of his own were piping with one voice of the "sweet all day in the middle of a meadow, and land of liberty." served out justice with the lavish im they carried with them the first breath partiality of a born ruler of men and chil of spring that had come into the city dren. every youngster who felt that streets. the queen shone in a veil of white there had been discrimination in the mat- mosquito netting, and she was wreathed ter of dishing up ice-cream, every pair of with pink paper roses bought with pennies mothers who clashed in argument over the that had been saved through the long year. beauty of their respective infants, hastened her king wore a crown of pasteboard gilt, to their over-lord for a decision. and his scepter was imposing. canopied weeping guardians whose charges had beneath gay bunting and more posies, her gone astray, boys who had lost their hats, maids of honor encircled the royal pair with girls who had lost their pennies; may streamers of ribbon, and the court made queens who couldn't find their bowers, all its way to the park with a dignity that im- manner of young persons with troubles,' pressed all beholders. that magical power flocked to the court of the district leader, of illusion whch blossoms only in the world and he sent them away smiling and com of little children made reality of all this forted. before sunset he confided to a pretty make-believe. every child was be- friend: decked with an extra ribbon or two, a paper "it's no joke. i'm drowning in a sea of wreath, a flower, a bit of tinsel, and these children, fairly swamped, but i'm dying trappings sufficed to make these ardent happy. as for shaking hands, i was an souls part of a pageant which lifted them athlete once, but i'm a wreck of a man to far above the lives they led in all the other night. it's been a grand day, though." more prosaic days of the year. f the children and their mothers the when such a marching multitude as this "grand day" had begun with the rising of reaches the land of heart's desire beyond the sun. such a scrubbing of faces and the stone walls of the park, they find them- curling of hair, and fishing out of clean selves only one of perhaps a score of may white dresses in thousands of tenement parties. for the district leader has no homes, such a multitude of agitated moth- monopoly of this pastime. there may be ers and squirming youngsters of many na several parties recruited from the mission tionalities! stocky little germans, black- schools, or perhaps a big-hearted baker or eyed babies lisping in yiddish, excited butcher has gathered up a few hundred of little italians, more placid scandinavians, the little tots in his district, bundled them their yellow pigtails plaited with brand into vans and sent them maying at his ex- new ribbons, and irish lads and lasses pense. the irish societies are rivals of the an unexpected strike fainting by oliver kemp. - - | - happy with her own little dinner party. political organizations for maying honors. pattern of children and color is clustered the ancient order of hibernians can be around the beribboned pole and the groups counted on to muster from ten to fifteen break up into cake-walking, whose fasci- thousand children for one party. it is nations are more potent than any old obvious that the police must take a hand world customs of may day. in regulating these lawless invaders. if the royal canopies and bowers are set two or three young armies were to flock aside under the trees, and the court min- into the same meadow there would be gles with its subjects. games spring up trouble. therefore, no party is allowed on every side. baseball nines assemble; to scamper into the alluring territory with- “ring around the rosey” and “drop the out a permit, which allots a certain region handkerchief” rage like an epidemic, and for it to play in. the task of the pied those who prefer to “go it alone” play with piper of hamelin was a sinecure compared the joyful abandon of kittens at nothing with the work cut out for the policeman in particular. assigned to “ride herd” on a may party. many of these children so seldom see the the play-time in the park begins for green open spaces, which in central park mally with the planting of the may-pole, are like the real unbounded country, that and the formal coronation of her majesty they are content to roll downhill, to sprawl the queen. from a hill-top you may see under the trees, to conduct venturesome a dozen of these may-pole dances with explorations over beyond the nearest slope. their revelers weaving through the mazes after all, play is only a device for killing of the ribbon walk," until the pretty time until that great hour when "some- the picnic hour in a corner corner of central park. marching to the park from an east side district. the outing magazine thin' to eat” is due. long before the ap- pointed time, the chil- dren begin to drift to- ward the tents and booths wherein are stored those things to eat and drink, lacking which a picnic were tame indeed. waiting lines tail across the meadow, boys in one column, girls in another. there is much fidgeting and the burden of an impatient chorus is, “when is it going to begin?” when "it" does be- gin, there is havoc in- deed. fond mothers who rear their precious progeny according to the rules and regulations laid down in the modern manuals of “child cul- ture" would faint at sight of the amazing feats of these reckless thousands of sturdy young americans. their mothers sit by and en- joy it, shamelessly ig- norant that the "grow- ing child should be nour- ished on the simplest and most regular diet, with a careful proportion observed in the relative amounts of bone- and muscle-making foods." impatiently waiting for the ice-cream-an’-cake" signal. the ice cream bar- rows, the barricades of sandwiches, the want nuffin' more. why is boys' tum- mounds of candy and oranges, the tanks micks so weenty-teenty, ma?”. of milk and lemonade are fairly stormed, mother is so little concerned at the tid- and no child is turned away as long as it ings that she focuses her attention upon is able to surround another helping of another of her brood who pipes up: anything. the only suffering apparent “i couldn't help tearin' me pants on de is that baffled anguish which arises from nail. ouch, ma! i won't do it again.” sheer inability to hold any more. a “come here, susie, you'll droive me wild chunky mite of a lad wails with tears in wid yer rollin' in the dirt, and you in your his voice: clean dress and wid yer face washed this “i has ate two dwinks of milk, free very marnin', indeed glasses of lemonade, a bananer, a orange, “so denny has swallowed a whole ba- a hunk o' cake, a sandwich wid bolony in nana skin. it won't hurt him, but he it, some ice cream, some candy, an' i don't mustn't do it again. where is martin? mimic royalties of may day will find a crowd around it all day when ten or twenty thousand chil- dren are turned loose at one time. they mingle so heedlessly with the throngs, they are so readily borne along from one venture to the other, and at a little distance they are so much like white dots scattered over a green carpet, that their less agile guardians can- not be blamed for losing them. there are now here near enough mothers to go around, you must remember, for many of them must stay at home, and most of the lost children have simply strayed away from their particular groups. but once adrift, they are helpless and confused, and after wandering until they tire, they lift their voices in wailing appeal, a policeman is summoned, and they are led to the tent to wait for a rescue party. the procedure is often like this: a panting mother toils to the tent and demands her youngster. “we've got twenty- “isn't the lemonade most ready?" one of them rounded up here. take your pick, you've lost him? bad luck! run yonder ma'am," politely responds the custodian. an' fetch the cop. we must be lookin' “if you don't see what you want, sit for him.” down and wait, and we'll have some more finding lost children is a systematized pretty soon.” feature of a big may party, wherefore “he's five years old, and he lisps, and parents seldom display hysterical symp two of his front teeth are gone, and his hair toms when they find themselves shy an is yellow and he had on his best suit,” she offspring. a tent for lost children is cries. “and he isn't here. oh, john pitched on the meadow, and it gathers in machenry stubbs! if you're in that many strays during one of these huge pic- bunch, why don't you holler out to your nics. in fact, there would be many weep- ing mothers and distracted daddies to cast six other parents are calling to six other a cloud of gloom over the occasion, were missing cherubs, and inasmuch as twice it not for this tent and its activities. you as many youngsters are wailing for their poor mother?" the outing magazine it may parents, the tent suggests a sheep corral ties, a great multitude of the children of when the lambs have been separated from new york would not know that central their mothers. one by one, however, the park existed. strays are sorted out, and kissed or wept alas, there are children who miss even over or spanked, according to the parental this one festal day! it may be that their habit. the most humiliated of these small parents are not worth the patronage of derelicts are always the scouts, trappers the district leader, or charity has over- and indian hunters who have followed the looked them, or they are ashamed to parade ambush and the trail among the trees until because their clothes are not good enough. they don't know where they are. some of these little outcasts find their way be that never before have they had this to the park on saturdays of may and june. glorious chance to roam the real wild they hang about the fringe of the gorgeous woods, crouching in single file, clapping merry-making within distant earshot of the their hands to their mouths in the shrill music of the bands. ragged waifs with ululation of the war-whoop. it is there- aching little hearts and wistful eyes, they fore more than humiliating, it is unspeak "do not belong anywhere," even in may ably embarrassing for the "boy trailer" time. or the “young avenger” to discover, when if the policeman is looking the other the sun is sinking low, that he has mislaid way they may perhaps crown a queen of his parents and that without them he can their own with the leavings and débris not find his way home to the east side. fearfully snatched from the more preten- if you have once beheld this springtime tious courts on the meadows beyond, and inundation of central park, you are likely play in their own pitifully contrasting to forget that any sordid motives lurk in fashion. the king with the crown made the background, or that all this abound- of a newspaper looks longingly at the ing joy and laughter plays its part in the passing candy-man, and the queen with intricate machine of party politics. what a scrap of torn bunting tucked in her hair ever the motive, one fact brightly shines watches the ice-cream wagons drive away. through it all. thousands upon thousands you are a very old scrooge of an observer of little children are transported from if you are not moved to dig into your streets where there is little sunshine and pockets for pennies and to take charge of gladness, to one day of perfect happiness a bevy of outcasts until you have given in the free out-of-doors. the parks were them a may party of their own and as valid made for them, not for the children of the a title to a stomach-ache as any full-fledged rich. but were it not for these may par- merry-maker in all central park. the ferocious goldfish a neighbor of ours, says h. b. frog with his head until he drives it out. blaxter, of new brighton, pa., has the frogs swim about in a dazed way and a number of small artificial ponds finally climb out. almost any evening a in which he grows water-lilies. he has number of disconsolate little frogs can be goldfish in these ponds, partly for looks, seen sitting in a row on the brick edge of partly to keep the water clear of animal the pond, desiring but not daring to jump matter. one pond in particular is in- in. the fish lately has become such an habited by a single goldfish, a large black autocrat that he will not permit a frog even one about three years old. this lonely to hang a foot in the water, working himself hermit has taken a great dislike to the into such a frenzy, lashing about and leap- small frogs which swarm in all the pools ating out of the water, that the frogs with- this time of year, and will not permit a draw in fright and bewilderment. the single frog to come into his pond. the mo incident is both amusing and pathetic, de- ment a frog jumps in the fish attacks it, pending on whether viewed from the point lashing the water with his tail, butting the of observation of a spectator or a frog. photograph by a. b. phelan. a fisherman's a fisherman for a' that. the developing columbine relation of insects to flowers by robert blight with photographs in n the very heart of the cedar grove changed; the gilt has been rubbed off our there is an open space where the gran- gingerbread; we have been schooled to ite bowlders lie scattered and tumbled discern between the false and the true; in picturesque confusion. through the but the memory of the enchantment is middle runs a stream of clearest water, still sweet. and, if the tinseled colum- winding its way among the giant stones bine has disappeared from our dreams, she and purling with pleasant murmur in has only given place to realities that are miniature cascades over the buried ones. far more alluring and enchanting, for we they say that art improves upon nature, know that behind them lies the mysterious but the landscape gardener might profit- truth of the secret of nature's method of ably come here and take a few lessons working. with such realities this fairy from nature's handicraft. it is an ideal columbine that adorns the glade in the spot for a rest on this june day, for there cedar grove has much to do, for its color is cool, dark shade under the gloomy trees; and the strange shape of its flower raise the short, close turf affords a soft couch; questions of “how” and “why” that lead low, sweet music comes from the running one off into the land of visions. brook, and, above all, here we are “far it really requires an effort to rise from from the madding crowd,” whose scurrying the cool, shady couch, go out into the glar- bustle allows no communing with nature ing sunshine and gather a spray or two; in her gentlest moods. an ideal spot?, but “where there's a will there's a way, nay, a veritable paradise, for the place is and having secured a few, we resume our carpeted with flowers. buttercups, anem ease, for nothing is so conducive to satis- ones, saxifrages, bluets, raise their heads factory thinking as comfort. you cannot everywhere, even around the very edges think if you are in discomfort. at all of the rocks. there, where the stream events, that is a very valid excuse to-day. forms a little eddy and backwater, a group now, i fear, the good folks who called of marsh marigolds display their brilliantly this flower “columbine" made a mistake. yellow blossoms; and towering above all, that name rightly belongs to the euro- in the majesty of their scarlet robes, are pean cousin of the american native. if hundreds of columbines. you examined the old world flower, i columbine! how the name carries us have no doubt that, with no unreasonable back to that day when we sat awe-struck amount of imagination, you would see a at the mystery, but delighted beyond sort of resemblance to five doves looking words at the splendor of our first panto at each other—the petals, with their short, mime. then we thought that the fairy curved spurs, forming the bodies of the form that tripped so gayly among the glit- birds, and the sepals the wings. but here tering flashes of the tinsel was the fairest the spurs are too long and too straight to and most beautiful our eyes had ever gazed carry out the similarity, for doves are not upon. we went home to matter-of-fact long-tailed birds. however, as life, only to dream of columbine as a being never slow to acknowledge our relationship from a far higher world. times have to our kindred over the water, we will be we are the saxifrage rears its white, yellow or red flowers through all the rucky pasture-lots. the outing magazine satisfied to call the flower “columbine.” that of the sepals of the anemone and learned scientists name the plant and all marigold, for they do not differ from the of the same genus "aquilegia," from just same parts of most of the flowers with such another fancied likeness of the flower which we are familiar. but notice that to an eagle's foot; and, here again, the while the sepals of the columbine conform european species more nearly conforms to the ordinary type in form, if not in to such a type, only eagles have four talons, color, the petals are folded into a closed and columbine has five spurs. however, tube continued backward and ending in a we will not be hypercritical. the european long spur. who would think, at first aquilegia you may find in nearly every sight, that all these flowers are nearly old-fashioned garden, for it was a great akin, belonging to the same family, de- favorite with our grandmothers, before scended from the same ancestor, and that the days of abnormal chrysanthemums. it ancestor probably not very unlike the but- has a second name, “vulgaris," but of tercup itself? yet such is the case, for course there is no insidious suggestion. the differences are only modifications of why, however, did the father of botany, the same type, and all four flowers are the learned linnæus, call our flower "ca built upon the same plan. why such a nadensis”? surely he might have known change of form? here come in the vision that the less cannot contain the greater, and the mystery. and this aquilegia has a far wider range when we are looking at plants, when we than the dominion. perhaps it was in are admiring them, and using them for our consequence of that curious fashion of the many needs, we are apt to forget that they days of linnæus by which they applied have individuality; but when we are “canada” to the whole of the northern part studying them we must ever remember it. of the eastern shores of north america; by “individuality” i do not mean mere and, as the famous botanist and zoologist isolation from other individuals, but, in so died in , he may not have heard much far as we may at present apply the terms about a certain fourth of july. so we to members of the vegetable kingdom, will let “canadensis” stand, for the world character and potentiality. no two plants has become accustomed to it. of the very same species, no two leaves, just get up and go out into the sunlight no two flowers, no two fruits from the very and gather a buttercup, an anemone, and same plant are mere duplicates of each one of the marsh marigolds, for they are other, as are two coins struck from the near relatives of this same columbine. a same die. this individuality is a gift of scot would tell you that they all belong organic life. it may be difficult for the to the same clan. they are members of casual eye to detect it, as in the case of the famous and ancient family of ranun twins; but while the world at large, and culus. now let us notice what vast differ indeed the near relatives of twins, are ences there appear to be between these saying that they cannot tell the difference kinsfolk. in the buttercup you have all between them, the mother, with her keen the parts usually given as constituting a insight, never for one moment confounds flower-sepals, petals, stamens and pistil. them. individuality implies possible var- in the columbine you can recognize all iability. without this variability we should these whorls of organs, but in the anemone have the identical likeness as of coins. and and the marsh marigold there is one whorl more: if this variability lies within certain short. all are colored flowers, but if you limitations of organic life, the variation look you will see that the buttercup only which is brought about is handed on to has the outer whorl green. the sepals, the offspring of the varying individual. that is, the outer whori, of the columbine heredity is a factor of great importance are scarlet, like the petals; those of the in organic life. if individuality with its anemone are white; those of the marsh variability fits any organic being for its marigold are yellow, like the petals of the surroundings more adequately than others buttercup; but the anemone and marsh which exist there, that being prospers more marigold have no petals at all. there is surely and gradually displaces the less fit. nothing remarkable about the form of the the world has had these notions drummed sepals and petals of the buttercup, or about into it against much opposition and vitu- a myriad buttercups yellow the open hills. the outing magazine a peration for half a century, so that the re- pollen was lost by this whorl, all the vital counting of them is an old story; but the energy being devoted to the enlargement study of this columbine in the cedar grove of the filament, and thus arose the petals. demands that we should have them clear plants showing this peculiarity had a better in our minds. chance of fertilization, and thus gaining now, long ago (that is the most conven an advantage over the rest, became the ient expression, though, indeed, it was dominant variety. again, the advantage long before the pyramids were built), a was intensified by the petals exuding a plant appeared that had a flower pleasant fluid at their base. in the first phænogam, the learned called it-a flower instance this may have been “accidental,” consisting of a number of leaves growing as we say, but the insects found it out and on an axis. the elongation of the axis liked it, paying their most frequent visits had been arrested so as to bring the leaves to those plants that afforded them this into whorls. the upper whorls had been new sensation. this fluid was nectar, or modified into chambers containing an honey, and all flowers that possessed it ovule each, but these ovules must be fer were sure of securing the most effective tilized with pollen before they would pro fertilization. as the color of the stamens duce seed. this powdery pollen was sup was yellow, the enlarged filaments, in the plied by lower sets of whorls which ap first instance, were also yellow, and thus peared below the ovule-bearing ones. we get the flower consisting of green sepals, these two sets of organs were inclosed yellow petals secreting honey, a coronet of within another whorl, consisting of five stamens producing pollen, and a group of leaves. so we have, beginning from above, ovule-bearing chambers, each surmounted a pistil, a coronet of stamens, and a set of with a style, forming the pistil. the but- sepals. at the proper time the sepals tercup is a descendant of this flower, even opened, disclosing the stamens and pistil, if it is not also the exact counterpart of and the insects of that day found that it it. this scheme of evolution plainly points was worth while to visit the flower for the out the fact that petals and honey are de- sake of the food to be obtained by eat vices for advertising the flower, as it were, ing the pollen. that is, they deliberately and inviting the visits of the winged robber robbed the flower of that which it had friends. prepared for its own perpetuation. out children often think that they can im- of this robbery a benefit, nevertheless, prove upon the methods of their elders; arose. the insects could not prevent them and some of the descendants of the origi- selves from being dusted about their heads nal flower that we speak of, being placed with pollen, and on visiting the next in somewhat different circumstances, did flower unwittingly imparted to it some of away with the advertising poster of the their spoils. behold the next generation, petals. it was far from being an unquali- raised from the seeds produced from ovules fied success, and they were ultimately com- fertilized with pollen from other flowers; pelled to take to advertising again. hav- the plants were stronger and better pre- ing, however, lost the whorl of petals, they pared for fighting the battle of life than could not afford to modify another and those which had not been produced in so diminish the store of pollen. neither could they recover it again, for nature has some of the plants, through the working a way of punishing repudiation of her gifts, of the inherent variability, had the fila by never reproducing those that have been ments of the outer wall of stamens broader cast away. these plants, therefore, took than those of their companions. this ren to modifying the sepals, and produced col- dered the flowers more conspicuous, and ored flowers with one whorl of organs de- consequently they received particular at ficient. they even went so far as to tention from the insects. it may be that secrete honey at the base of the changed the very first visits of the insects had sepals. the marsh marigold continued to something to do with this broadening. show the color of its ancestor, but the however that may be, the next generation anemone, catering to the taste of some in- showed flowers with even broader fila sect that preferred white to yellow, changed ments, and in time the faculty of producing the color of its poster to white. the water this way: columbines, in the majesty of their scarlet robes. the outing magazine crowfoot, which is a ranunculus, pure and they can secure this without carrying off simple, seems to have tried to do the same any pollen, as a sort of acknowledgment thing, but with imperfect success, for at of the liberality of the flower, they have the base of the petal there is still a large no compunction. the flower, therefore, has blotch of the original color. when once to take measures to secure the dispersal the spirit of variation has taken hold of a of pollen, in one case, and the placing of it flower, it appears as if it permeated the on the proper spot, in the other. this is very vitals, for some species can scarcely done by hiding the honey in all sorts of cor- keep from varying without provocation. ners—in the end of a tube, a horn, a helmet- anemones are an instance of this, for some shaped cap, a box which shuts up when anemones in europe are found of the most undisturbed and opens when an insect brilliant reds and blues. visitors to nice, pitches upon a lip in front, in galleries on the mediterranean, will remember what fringed with hairs that will keep out un- a show of colors the anemones afford in desirable visitors. now one of the descen- early spring in that delicious climate, and dants of the flower of long ago, having if we introduce the flowers into the beds colored its petals to suit some decent,“mid- of our gardens, we are never sure what dle-class” insects, found that they took its ranges and varieties of blossoms may honey without carrying off any pollen. it appear. began to place the honey farther back and there is quite a subtle gradation in the doubled the petal over it, thus forming a tastes of insects. the common herd, such tube. the better the tube, the more sat- as flies and the like, are content with white isfactory the fertilization. so the struggle and yellow; night-wandering moths are went on, the flower lengthening the tube, also partial to these two colors; higher and the insect lengthening its tongue to insects prefer pink and red; but butterflies reach the honey, until the columbine has and bees are devoted to purples and blues. fitted itself for the long-tongued insects, it is evident that our columbine does not and has actually been a means of inducing care for aristocracy; it would scarcely be corresponding development in the insect seeming that a flower so characteristic of world. but having doubled up the petals, this land should do so. the european the advertising poster was destroyed, as columbine, however, seeks the very top of far as its previous use was concerned. the society by being a deep, bluish purple. flower, therefore, took to coloring the sep- at the same time it often produces varie als, until it had got them of the shade of ties which are white, and these must con the former sign-board, and then our colum- sent to be called upon by the riffraff of bine was complete. the insect world. it is not the color of the it is astounding to think of the result columbine, however, which is the most of this mutual, and yet independent, work- striking feature in the flower. look at ing. every shade of color, from pale yel- the shape of the petals. why are they low to the richest blue; every peculiarity tubular and spurred? you may see simi of form, from the flat shape of the butter- lar departures from the ordinary type in cup to the intricate windings of the colum- many flowers; for instance, in larkspur bine; every degree of sweetness, from the and monkshood (which belong to the same insipidity of many flowers to the rich su- family as columbine), in milkweed, the gariness of honeysuckle; and every kind labiates, the figworts, and, above all, in of scent, from the foul odor which attracts those wonders of the plant world, orchids. vulgar flies to the most delicate perfumes the truth is that the robber insects do not that delight the bees, all have proceeded care so much for pollen as for nectar. if from this connection of insects with flowers. the white beauty of the birches. photograph by charles h. sau yer. - over versio drawing by oliver kemp. "ye ain't goin'e git that little hoss fer no hundred." a little brown horse from the farm to the city by james h. tuckerman drawing by oliver kemp Ꭰ id ye make him an offer? what'd “reed,” he demanded - and it was he have t’ say to it? what kind quite evident the explosion was to be the of a talk did ye give him? did ye vital one in the series—“reed, are you see th' hoss, an' how much 'll he weigh?” man 'nough to steal that little brown hoss the questions were exploded through a red from that benighted farmer, er ain't ye?” stubble mustache with a force and rapid in an instant the harried look that the ity which only a gasoline engine tucked other man's face had worn since the be- away somewhere in the ample internal ginning of the bombardment relaxed, and economy of the owner of the red mustache an expression of scorn-mirthful, yet pity- could possibly account for. he was a ing - took its place. he indulged in a great, round man, and a great golden buoy, short chuckle before answering. consid- anchored at a point equidistant from his ering the wear and tear to which the two lower waistcoat pockets, marked the chuckle had been subjected for thirty odd meridian of greatest circumference with years, the youthful spontaneity it still re- geometric nicety. the shallow armchair tained was little less than miraculous. which the country hotel provided for its “benighted!” he echoed, derisively, “i guests was many sizes too small for him; guess you ain't bin round much among and as he sat in it-bubbling over and the benighted farmers of these sun-kissed through its arms like a freshly baked pop hills since th’ wise an' beneficent govern- over-his conformation seemed to approxi ment at washington put on the free rural mate more closely the honest, sturdy deliveries. “benighted!' lord lighten clydesdale than that of the "fancy and our darkness! why, there ain't bin a gen'ral pu'pose hoss” in which he dealt. time since them farmers begun gittin' th' his massive face, however, as he turned news only four days behind th' returns it sharply upon the man at whom he had that you could dazzle any one of 'em with exploded the questions, revealed little of a new twenty dollar gold piece. an’ the characteristic docility of the clydesdale. lord aʼmighty,” the man went on after a for half a century it had been exposed befitting sigh for the dear, dead days, “i've almost constantly to the wind and sun, and knowed th’ time when you could hold a the ruddy and indelible glow with which the canada quarter 'fore their eyes an' blind elements had burnished it, together with the 'em so'st you could steal a red lumber red stubble mustache and the heavy gray wagon right out from under 'em.” brows overhanging half-closed blue eyes, “so we've bin hangin' around this red- gave to it an expression almost of ferocity. lemonade hotel ten hours for nothin',” for several seconds he sat with his eyes broke in the large, round man, with an- gazing unwinkingly upon the victim of his other explosion; "forty-two miles from inquisition. his head was tilted at a wise home and nineteen from a drink! i knowed and scheming angle, and when he breathed that cuss was slick enough to throw you, the golden buoy rose and fell, gleaming in reed.” the veiled rays of the kerosene lamp like a "an' it was just like bein' throwed from revolving beacon on the sea's horizon. a palace car into a barbed wire fence,” the outing magazine corroborated reed meekly. “somebody's day had gone with the setting sun, and to gone an' told old man wilcox that there the defeated band the homeward journey are a lot o' educated fools in th' world stretched away. in a weary prospective of that'd ruther have a nice, high-goin' little mud and slush and cold. finally one of hoss like his than one that 'll fall down over the men arose, shook his trousers into place a bastin' thread; an' th’ free deliveries are with nervous jerks of his thin legs, and gettin' th' old man so enlightened that he's walked over to the window. he had fol- beginning to think that maybe there be. lowed the “trottin' hosses” once as an awful handsome-goin' little hoss. seven assistant trainer, and the hard imprint of year old this spring, an' not a pimple on a bandaged, blanketed and liniment-scent- him s' far as i could see." ed environment was still upon him. it had “did he price him at all?" asked the given to his small, thin face, with its razor- large man, but the hopelessness of the like profile and its curious blue-gray col- answer was already betrayed in his voice. oring an expression of paddock-learned “one seventy-five. i offered him your craftiness and its reciprocal distrust. that limit an' promised to get him a yoke o' his calling might never be mistaken he cattle fer thirty dollars. and th’ timo wore a short-visored woolen cap ornament- thy he was chewin' never quivered." ed with an almost frivolous bow, and a heavy silence fell upon the little group equipped with adjustable shutters that gathered around the stove in the dismal could be pulled down over his ears. he office of the country hotel. the men had rarely spoke, and when he did his words traveled far and had borne the hardships were accredited with that wisdom given of a no-license town for many parched to men economical in their utterances. hours in the hope that in the end they when he returned to the stove, therefore, would return leading old man wilcox's and announced without preface or pre- "little brown hoss” behind them. there amble, “i can git you that hoss, cap, and were four of them in the group, and with at your price,” the silence that was still the large, round man as their chief, they upon the little group became one of defer- constituted a band of modern horse thieves, ence rather than depression. stung with as keen and active as any to be found in jealousy by the quiet assurance of the their end of the state. the increasing other man and the memory of his own demand for that type of horse vaguely failure, reed was the first to recover. known to the public as a “high actor,' “i suppose you got an idee you can go the inability of the breeders of legitimate out there and tell old man wilcox you saw high actors to supply the demand, and goldsmith maid trot better 'n fifty once an' the chance that occasionally presented mesmerize him; you think he ain't heard itself of picking up from some farmer a o' no trotters since dexter's time. a few "high-steppin' hoss," which with proper streaks of enlightenment wouldn't kill you shoeing, bitting and handling might be yet, i guess.” shaped into a very fair counterfeit of the “bill, how are you goin' to do it?” the genuine article, had given to these country chief inquired, ignoring in his earnestness horsemen a new and oftentimes lucrative the jackal cries of the other. bill spat occupation. such an animal was the “lit- arrogantly at a red target glowing through tle brown hoss of wilcox's”-an equine a broken pane of isinglass. garnet that by diligent search might be “that's my business,” he said. found on a hill pasture or in an orchard the night seemed less cheerless and the of some remote and unenlightened farm. homeward way less weary when the chief that he bore much the same relation to finally commanded his team to be hooked the hackney and the cob that the garnet up. bears to the ruby did not in any measure two days later the first move was made tend to assuage the grief of those who had in bill's plan for stealing the "little brown found him, and, through the pernicious hoss.” between twelve and one o'clock influence of a free rural delivery, had been a man drove up to the wilcox farm. he unable to pick him up. was a seeds salesman, he told the old man, the vague promise of spring which the and was making a preliminary spring trip march wind had held out earlier in the through his territory. without undue a little brown horse haste he lured the conversation from crops the man turned his back upon the little to horse. he liked a good horse when horse and started brusquely back to his he saw one, and he admitted that he some- buggy. times availed himself of an opportunity "i've got the mate to that hoss in my “to pick up a good un”-a horse, he ex stable,” he said; "give an even hundred plained, that he might place with some of for him a week ago. i'll give another even his city customers to turn a few honest hundred fer this one,” and he made a dollars. he asked the farmer if he knew threatening movement toward his breast of any such horse. the farmer did. pocket. the farmer shook his head. there was something almost buoyant in “ye ain't goin' t' git that little hoss fer the tread of the great felt boots as they no hundred,” he snarled, “not if they're led the way to the stall where the "little givin' 'em away where you come from.” brown hoss” was consuming a musty bun bill's great bear movement was gath- dle of orchard grass in the joy of an un ering impetus. bill had once told the pampered appetite. old man wilcox had brusque business man the exact heat in not forgotten that he had refused a “sum which wedding bells was going out to o' money” for that horse. the salesman make his field look like a lot o'steers. the was unfeignedly delighted-he even mut stranger had not forgotten the courtesy. tered the first name of a friend who had within the next fortnight other men called spoken to him about just such a horse. at the wilcox place. all of them, soon but when the farmer told him the price he or late, made financial propositions to old only laughed sorrowfully. man wilcox, and in their ever-diminishing "same old trouble,” he sighed; “horses munificence these propositions served to worth more 'way out here than they are make the large, round man's offer a thing in the city. curious, ain't it, where feed's more to be desired-its refusal a folly s' cheap?" he turned to the farmer, more to be deplored. and in the end the apologetically. large, round man came himself. he had "if you don't happen to get rid of him a big, bluff, above-board way with him, at your price,” he said, “and if the time and a roll of very old and very musty bills. comes when one hundred and fifteen dol farmers of the wilcox type prefer the lars looks bigger to you than th' little hoss ancient, tattered banknote, with its stale does, just drop me a line.” odor of wealth, to the fresh, crisp currency the first seed was sown. the large that can be bought in job lots from un- round man's offer had been one hundred scrupulous men who live in city hotels and twenty-five dollars. the great felt with high-sounding names. the soft earth boots, plodded back to the woodshed in had stiffened into a congealed crust, and their old, stolid, soggy way. the man who the chill hush of the march evening had had made the one hundred and fifteen dol fallen upon the farm before the earnest- lar offer was a seeds salesman, and he was ness of the large, round man and the elo- making a preliminary spring trip, but he quence of the mildewed roll prevailed. was also a friend of bill's. at the end of bobby's training for that new walk in the week another stranger called. he had life into which fate, with bill's assistance, heard that the farmer had a likely horse, had called him, began immediately. it and he had come to look him over. he consisted largely in a course of dietetics, had a brusque, business way with him, and and was, from his point of view, a vast the great felt boots almost fluttered down improvement over the old order of things. the path to the barn. the man looked the the hard grind on the farm, with its mo- horse over in a brusque, business way. notonous round of poor, unwholesome fare, “how much?” he demanded. old man had had its effect upon him. in one of wilcox was staggered. to ask the price the consultations held around the stove of a horse without preliminary praise or in the little liniment-scented office of the profanity was against all the ethics of the chief, he had admitted cautiously that the profession. he thought of the first offer horse was “a leetle mite dry and tucked and of the second, and he faltered. up," which meant-had the little horse “ye kin hev him fer one sixty-five,” he been a man-that he was run down, his said sullenly. complexion bad, and that he needed the outing magazine bracing up. that accounted for the series cox himself could scarcely have recognized of seemingly unmerited banquets that "the little brown hoss." were tendered him in luxurious sequence. to that element in every rural commu- a tucked-up horse has a long way the best nity which has made the horse the corner- of a run-down man. twice each week stone of its tabernacle, and whose articles bobby received a four-quart bran mash, of faith are embraced in sundry remedies seasoned with salt, and a handful of flax for heaves, glanders and contracted feet, seed meal and served hot. the etiology the coming of the buyer from new york of a man's ills is often the cure for a horse's. city is like the coming of the bishop to the rest of the time he lived on huge, cold those about to be confirmed. he is a salads composed of timothy hay, cut in dignitary surrounded by a brass-mounted two-inch lengths, a half quart of bran, and halo. from the shriveled little man three quarts of cracked corn and clipped whose equine ardor is confined to a single oats in equal parts, the whole sprinkled horse with a glorious past and a foundered with cold water and served in a five-gallon present, to the would-be professional who bucket. it was worth traveling miles for, believes he has a "good un," his periodi- and the delightfully ridiculous part of it cal visits are occasions of momentous in- was that he didn't have to travel at all for terest. the shriveled little man knows it. his work, compared with that on the that the opinions he has expressed in the farm, where even the sun's twelve-hour day idle winter days upon every “promisin’ was not adhered to, was purely nominal. animal” within a radius of thirty square in the afternoons he hauled the large, miles will either be confirmed or rejected, round man through the spring mud for an and the would-be professional realizes that hour or two, and then returned for a mas upon the buyer's word may depend all the sage that lasted quite as long and ended law and the profits. the large, round man in cold bandages for his legs and woolen and his band had heard that johnson- blankets for his loins. with the exception the great johnson of new york city-was of plates on his front feet four ounces out buying, and they had the “little brown heavier than he had been accustomed to hoss” prepared against the time of his com- wear, little effort was made to correct the ing. when he came the chief was at the flaws in his handsome way o' goin'. these station to meet him. even to the lay- consisted principally in his inability to man there was something impressive about fold his knees back properly after he had johnson; his garments were impressive- pulled them up, and a conspicuous de even more so when spattered with spring ficiency in hock action. the flaws were mud. they were a number of consistent not fatal; theoretically, the chief himself sizes too large for him and hung from his knew how to remove them, but it was wiser tall, spare frame with a sort of swaggering to leave that task to the buyer. the grace. there also clung to them the defi- large, round man had dealt in equine wares nite aroma of his calling. when he talked long enough to know that it is not safe business he had an impressive way of to experiment too much with a diamond drawing his man aside with a slight, silent in the rough. and in the meantime the jerk of his head. in a trackless wilder- little brown horse grew fat and hand ness, with only one other man present, he some. undoubtedly would have done the same the new prosperity that had come to had he contemplated buying the other him did not ruin him-as it ruins many man's horse. he received the homage of horses and men. his claim to aristoc the local court with callous indifference, racy was based upon more substantial and that afternoon drove out with the ground than mere outward semblance to large, round man behind the "little brown it. the rough and ragged coat he had hoss.” worn at wilcox's was removed by a process the horse was driven with a plain snaf- considerably more expeditious than na fle bit and an overhead bearing rein. he ture's. the collar and trace galls-scars carried his head very badly indeed. the of his plebeian days—were rubbed with large man knew he would. he also knew oily lotions, a dentist floated his teeth, and that the little horse, with a tight breech- at the end of the sixth week old man wil- ing and long traces, could not work well a little brown horse within himself or do himself justice. like teeth and puckered a fold of skin from the wise he knew that johnson knew these horse's ribs. then he turned and beck- things. he wanted to leave some things oned the chief over into a corner of the to johnson's imagination. empty barn. in spite of the deliberate impediments, “how much is he worth to you?” he however, the little horse strove valiantly asked, looking the other squarely in the performing his work cheerfully and not with eye. the large, round man was not dis- out a display of pride in his accomplish- mayed. ments. he gave an earnest, painstaking “two hundred and fifty dollars," he exhibition of his “handsome way o' goin'," answered, promptly. and under the circumstances it was a very “he's worth just two hundred and creditable performance. when johnson twenty-five dollars to me, at the station, took the reins the little horse recognized to-morrow morning at six o'clock," said instantly the touch of a master hand, and johnson; “do you want my check or the responded with that quick sympathy which horse?" exists between horses of courage and men the next day the little horse journeyed who were born to rule them. he picked westward on his way to an equine finishing his feet up with a crude showiness that in school, conducted by the buyer in an ad- the light of his self-complacency was al- joining state. that same day the large, most pathetic. his whole manner changed. round man pored over a musty yellow in his unsophisticated mind he realized ledger, and did arithmetic on the backs of that he was on dress parade, that upon envelopes. he estimated finally that with his behavior depended in some mysterious hay $ . a ton, oats $ . a hundred, way his future career; and he played his bran cents a hundred and $ worth of part with blithe spirits and an undaunted incidentals (which included $ for bill heart. the large man's own heart warmed and a series of fermented regards to the within him and its glow was reflected in others), “the little hoss stood him just his face. $ ”—a profit of almost fifty per cent. "ain't he a cheerful, bold-goin' little on the original investment. cuss, now, johnson?” he spoke appeal at the finishing school the brown horse ingly, as though he would wring a word of became merely one in a class of a hundred praise from the buyer in spite of him. or more green and rustic pupils, gathered "can't pull those hocks high enough to from all parts of the provinces. the get his feet over a cigarette," answered heavy plates were pulled off and a pair of the emotionless johnson, “and if he can't "rolling” shoes substituted. these were fold his knees back better than he does made low at the heel and toe and high on now i couldn't get rid of him to a fish either side, giving them the shape of a peddler-carries his head like a dog." miniature rocker. they were of vast as- “i ain't sayin' he's a finished actor,” sistance to the little horse in acquiring the retorted the large, round man, “ner that art of traveling with the least possible he's ready fer th' park just yet, but he's amount of lost motion. for a time his got th' stuff in him—it's there-an' all hind shoes were removed entirely, and you fellers have got to do is to bring it when he was shod again it was with a out, and when you do—” and the large heavier pair than he had ever worn before. man spoke as one who had had a vision by a curious perversion of the laws of "i'll guarantee you, johnson, there won't common sense this additional weight made be a kinder, cheerfuller, honester, sweeter, him lift his feet much higher, and conse- er freer-goin' little hoss ever looked through quently gave him at least an artificial a bridle.” hock action. a heavy bar bit took the johnson merely indulged in one of his place of the snaffle, and the reins were con- rare, reluctant smiles. stantly being changed from one notch in when the little horse was driven finally the bar to another. when they were onto the barn floor with a flourish and buckled in the lowest notch a man sat crash of hoofs that was a fitting climax to behind him in a cart, and he was made the performance, the buyer looked him to stand still while the man sent a series over indifferently, glanced once at his of short, quivering vibrations through the the outing magazine reins. this was often continued for a long doctor, became a dreadful lugger.” the time until gradually his neck assumed a doctor did not know, just at the moment, new curve, and he no longer carried his of any horse he could thoroughly recom- head like a dog. even a dog would have mend, but he would look about and keep found it difficult to carry his head like one his eyes open. with that insistent jarring going on be "by the way,” he added, bowing his hind his lower jaw. one day a cord was callers out, “have you any preference in tied tightly around his tail, and the next color, and about how much do you wish morning the tail was slipped through a to pay?” pair of bars that had been placed across "i prefer a dark bay or brown,” said his stall. there was a dull, painless thud, the woman. the searing of a hot iron, and the little “not more than six hundred and fifty brown horse had become a member of the dollars," said the man. dock-tailed aristocracy. soon afterward when the door had closed behind them, a man who breathed always in automatic, the doctor went directly to the telephone. audible sighs pulled out by the roots "can you have that little brown horse whole handfuls of mane, and instead of you showed me this afternoon,” he asked, its being an unpleasant experience the "ready by to-morrow afternoon? will he little horse found it rather soothing. the do for a woman? he will-all right- insides of his ears were clipped and pol- five fifty, you said? to-morrow between ished as smooth as the inside of an oy four and six-good-bye." ster shell. the same generous bill-of-fare "a nice, breedy type," suggested the provided first by the chief was still main doctor to mr. and mrs. gordon as the tained, and at the end of the second month three stood on the edge of a tanbark ring of the finishing school neither old man wil and watched the evolutions of a little cox nor the large, round man could have brown horse in a brass-mounted harness. recognized “the little brown hoss.” neither the glitter of the harness, the bored the veterinary surgeon received his call- expression of the young man behind him, ers with the deference and easy courtesy nor the painted splendor of the equine a fashionable physician bestows upon his stars in the great frieze above him appeared patients. there was little in his bearing in any way to affect the little horse. he or in his surroundings to identify him performed his work conscientiously and with the horse doctor of popular tradition. cheerfully and with a showiness that did the bric-a-brac in his office did not con not seem pathetic in its crudity. the poise sist of spavined joints nor navicularized of his head was surely patrician. hoofs. instead its walls were hung with “a nice little horse,” said the man in- photographs of members of the horse differently; he appeared to be in a hurry. show set and with some rare sporting "i call him a horse of a great deal of prints. one of these was an original by quality,” said the woman, aggressively. howith. it had cost the doctor sixty “a great deal of class, indeed,” concurred guineas in london. he could afford it. the doctor; "well coupled, nicely bal- in various ways he made fifteen thousand anced shoulders, plenty of bone and cour- dollars a year. age, and a sweet, cheerful way of going the man visitor was the first to explain about his work. i do not believe, mr. the purpose of their call. gordon, you can go wrong on him.” “mrs. gordon has decided that she must the man turned inquiringly to the have a new horse this spring,” he began; woman, and she nodded her head. "some smart, trappy little horse, i be “doctor, will you see that he is sent lieve, that she can drive to a runabout in around to my stable in the morning ?” the town and one free enough to work as a man added, “the price, you say, is six leader in a country tandem.” hundred and forty dollars. “do you know of any such horse?” and the next afternoon there was added the woman interrupted, “a horse not more to that brass-mounted pageant that sweeps than fifteen-two, well mannered, and with through the eastern drive of the park in some class--something you can thoroughly endless glitter and splendor “the little recommend. that last horse, you know, brown hoss o' wilcox's." hunting the sawfish by charles f. holder painting by c. f. w. mielatz e had been trolling then as it toppled, the musical crash; the for big barracu next instant i was lying in foam and the das in the mexican boat half full. but we made a permanent gulf, sailing up connection with that wave and went whirl- w and down the ing in, so close to the rocks that i could long line of break have touched them with an oar on one side ers that broke and my hand on the other—"five-foot” in- with musical roar deed. as the wave left us, we floated in on the outer flor the still waters of the inner and shallow la- ida reef, when the goon, the home of the sawfish and the ray. long-toothed muzzle of a sawfish shot out it required but a few moments to bail of water in the lagoon, followed by half the out the boat and unship the mast, rolling body, which fell with a resounding crash. the latter up in the sail; then with grains i had long wished to try conclusions with in hand i stood in the bow while chief a sawfish and here seemed to be the oppor- sculled in the direction of the spot where tunity; but while the big fish was not fifty we had seen the big fish. a more ideal yards away, there was between us the fangs place for fishing could hardly be imagined of the reef, a long line of dead coral rock, than this vast lagoon, surrounded on one known as the outer or fringing reef, upon side by the line of foam indicating the reef; which the sea beat heavily and with an on the other, by a long island just above the ominous roar. it was at least two miles water, and to the south opening into the around, which meant losing the location of gulf, covered here and there by vast plan- the fish. tations of branch coral. at high tide this “there's the 'five-foot,'" said chief, my sandy lagoon was eight or ten feet deep, and boatman; "we may get wet, but we can was a natural spawning and feeding ground swim.” for many fishes; at night it simply swarmed again the big saw shot out of water. i with them in all sizes, as a haul with the handed chief the tiller, took the sheet of seine often demonstrated. the bottom the sprit sail, and threw off my shoes, ready was a soft gray, sometimes white, so that for the swim should it be necessary. we any dark object upon it could be distinctly were nearly opposite the little channel, of seen; even the big conchs, the holothuri- whose bearings i was ignorant, and pres ans and white sea eggs stood out in relief ently the seminole had the yawl before the as we glided along far ahead was a wind, and apparently headed for the surf, ripple of mullet, the fish occasionally leap- as no opening was to be seen. she gathered ing into the air in wild affright, and just be- headway at every plunge, and in a short hind them, moving slowly along, a huge time was on a big wave, that melted into a dark patch. ahead of us was a clear half breaker under her nose, carrying us in like mile before reaching the few mangroves a rocket, and in the hollow i saw the jagged which designated bush key. a better fang-like rocks of the reef. i was lying flat place to locate the game could not be had, on my back holding the slack of the sheet, and as chief quickened his pace, forcing and could not see the next breaker, but i the boat through the water, i mounted the could hear it coming, hissing on behind us, little deck to see that the grains line was the outing magazine clear. grains, it may be said, is merely a wave that we were drenched (not unwel. two-pronged spear-each prong about five come in the terrific heat). inches long, the barb working on a swivel the sawfish occasionally came to the or pivot, so that it closes when it strikes surface, exposing its back, then plunged and opens out in the flesh. the base of down with a suddenness that jerked the the iron is a cup, two and a half inches head of the boat under and made it neces- deep, that fits over the end of a slender sary to cling to the side. its course was yellow pine handle about nine feet in straight as an arrow and continued so for length, light and pliable, intended for toss a fourth of a mile; then, as its speed ing or throwing through the air. to the seemed to be increasing, it was deemed iron is fastened a stout line, one hundred necessary to make an attempt to stop it; feet in length, coiled in the boat, the iron, so i crawled forward while chief shipped of course, coming unshipped at the moment his oars in the rowlocks farthest astern. of the strike. the painter was as rigid as a rod of steel, we were now so near the dark object that and only by leaning far out could i obtain its outline could readily be seen, and that a grasp upon it, at which moment the fish it was the sawfish there was no doubt. it plunged down, burying my face in foam. was moving slowly along, evidently follow the big game undoubtedly recognized ing the line of the reef, either feeding or some form of attack in the move, as it in- trying to find an opening into deep water. creased its speed, jerking away the foot or we came up directly behind it to the right. more of line which i gained several times; for a few seconds its big tail was beneath but finally i succeeded in making six feet me, and i could see the peculiar graceful and securing a turn about the seat, and twisting motion and note the quick widen chief put his oars over and backed, holding ing of the body until at the pectoral fins it them with all his power while i surged on was like a huge ray, then narrowing down the line, gaining foot by foot-strenuous to the long saw. with a swift motion chief work under a sun whose normal rate was sent the boat ahead until i was almost ° in the shade. it was such seemingly directly over the fish, which, low on the impossible work that i told chief to drop bottom, had not perceived us, and it was the oars and lay on, and we both hauled an easy matter to drive the spear into its now, making several feet or losing two or back near the head; much easier than to one; then our arms were wrenched vio- drop into the boat and dodge the enormous lently by the constant and desperate body which shot out of water fully exposing plunges of the fish, that apparently realized the long saw; then it dropped with a crash that its enemy was drawing nearer. and dashed ahead, the line jumping from “heave- !” cried chief-an old sailor the coil like a snake striking. -dropping into his chanty. “ahoy-ah-e- chief had whirled the bow of the boat ahoy!” and so we hauled and pulled, taking away from the fish as it leaped, and for a a turn at every gain until we could see the moment we watched the flying line and game, and held on, breathing hard, choking lay low, waiting for the shock. the line for very dryness in the midst of flying scud. had been made fast to the painter, and chief doubtless bemoaned his hard luck at when the last coil leaped over, it came taut having a patron who cared to fool with such with a jerk that would have thrown any impossible game, and i wondered whether one standing completely out of the boat. such exertion could by any stretch of the as it was, chief very nearly went over, imagination be construed into sport; yet recovering himself with my aid, and away neither thought of giving up; the wild we went. neptune and his wild horses desire to win had taken possession of our were tame to it, and there was great con senses and win we would. solation in knowing that we were within all this time the fish was flying up the swimming distance of two islands and a reef, and the few trees on bush key that reef and that sharks were not dangerous had looked like shadows against the blue in the lagoon. the speed with which the sky now took form and we could make out fish carried us was marvelous, and where the pelicans' nests in them, all of which the water was shallow it literally hauled meant a change of direction or our game the nose of the boat so deep into the foam would run high upon the reef. nearer painting by c. f. w. mielalz. “the sawfish raised itself to the surface, lashing the water into foam and almost sinking the boat by thrusting its huge body over it.” - hunting the sawfish came the island, the big seas on our right fish raised itself to the surface and lashed appeared to be flying past, when suddenly the water into foam, hurling it over us and the water shoaled and with a quick lift of almost sinking the boat by thrusting its its long tail the fish turned at right angles huge body over it. so quickly and with so savage a rush in the we were in shallow water, not over four new direction that there was not time for feet in depth, and the fish apparently used the boat to turn, and she was dragged the bottom as a lever and displayed a vast around-an operation which nearly cap amount of strength; threshing about, try- sized her despite our scramble to windward, ing to roll over, leaping and pushing ahead, and before i could slack off the line she was and when working its body to the surface a third full of water; yet we still rushed it lashed the water with such terrific blows along that for a few moments we were doubtful “that 'll fix him,” cried chief, taking of the outcome. but chief held the saw, the bailer and beginning to throw out the having now a turn about the thwart, and i water while i endeavored to gain what rope did the same with the grains line, keeping i had lost. but it was impossible work; the fish as nearly in one place as possible. the movements of the fish were now erratic, as a result we presently noticed a diminish- it was swimming in a great circle that ing of fire in the struggles, there was less carried us toward long key, then it headed vigor in the bounds, and a part at least of down toward the channel half a mile dis the great game's strength had been ex- tant. hausted; it was merely taking us slowly “if he reaches that we're lost," said down the lagoon by the fitful movements chief; "he too big for two men,” so he got of its tail. when it became comparatively out the oars and held them against the fish. quiet chief lashed the saw and taking the this in a short time had perceptible oars, began to pull in the direction of long effect. the fish slowed up and i gained key, about fifty yards away. when shal- six or eight feet. then chief dropped the low water was reached the sawfish made a oars and we both lay on and presently final effort and lunged against the boat hauled the boat directly over the fish, with such good effect as to half fill her, which had turned to the east and was throwing us both over into waist-deep speeding so that the boat's nose was deep water. but the game was ours, and chief in the water. wading in with the painter, we slowly “heave_o!” shouted chief and we hauled the fish in until its head was out of heaved. “ahoy-a-he-o! now one more. water; then we waited for it to die, after ahoy!” and we lay back and pulled. then which the rope was cast off and the fish something seemed to give and the fish rose hauled farther in, and with the help of some into the air, so quickly that we fell back negroes pulled above high-water mark that ward into the bottom of the boat while a the saw might be taken as a trophy. it saw with spines or teeth an inch in length was impossible to weigh so huge a "beastie,” came slashing at us. it struck the gun but it measured nearly fourteen feet, and wale, where the indian's head had been we estimated its weight at between six and peering down into the water a moment be seven hundred pounds, owing to its enor- fore, with a blow that might have severely mous bulk. wounded him, the ivory teeth sinking into if one desires sport that is fully and com- the wood, to be wrenched out as the fish pletely strenuous from start to finish, with swung its tremendous head in the opposite more than a soupçon of risk and danger direction. three or four times the mad thrown in, permit me to commend the cap- dened creature swung its toothed sword ture of this interesting creature, neither back and forth, each time burying the fangs true shark nor ray, yet suggestive of both, into the boat. as it finally tore away chief which in deep water is more than a match skillfully sent a rope into the air, which for several men. the fishing ground in dropped over the saw, and with a jerk had which i took the sawfish was eminently it fast, that is, as the indian said later, “had adapted for the sport, owing to the shallow the head end fast.” it could not strike, water which made it possible to fight a big but the tail became the active member, and fish to the finish; but rarely were my ex- by great bound-like convolutions the saw periences so fortunate, as when i grained a the outing magazine a big sawfish in the central portion of the lagoon with about a foot of water, utterly impos- it invariably dashed into the deep channel sible for a boat; but directly for this sub- and by exhausting the line, broke it or merged wall the sawfish swam like a hurdle pulled out the grains. perhaps the most racer which nothing could stop. whether exciting and disastrous encounter i had the fish knew the reef was there and in- with these gamy creatures was one intense tended to scrape us off and perhaps liter- ly hot day when we were poling along the ally commit hari-kari itself, could not be lagoon, hunting for the rare queen conch. told; in any event it kept on, and all our i had just come up from a deep and in efforts to divert it and change its direction vigorating dive with one of the splendid failed. we steered the boat to right and shells when my boatman, a saccotra boy, left, held back with the oars; but the fish said: “i was scairt to death, sa. swam on, crazed, perhaps, determined to sawfish went amblin' by jes' after yo' went reach the gulf by the shortest method, the down over yander. i thought it was a surf route. i took the big fish-knife in shark sure. he was gwine up de lagoon, hand and stood by the rope, intending to the biggest, onariest ole cuss i ever see.” cut it if necessary, and scope sat at his as scope said he was “jes' amblin',” i. oars. i fully expected to see the fish decided to follow, and getting out the ground, but in a few moments it reached grains, bade him scull after the wanderer, the reef, seemed to waver a moment then that was evidently coming in hungry from slid over it with a rush, grounding once and the outer and deeper waters. we sighted going into a frenzy as the wave let it down it not two hundred yards in, a mighty fel on to the rock; but lifted by another it low of plethoric bulk between the shoulders, surged on, plunged into a great roller, and and a tempting saw, like a great sword ex reached the gulf with the boat two hun- tending ahead-an incomprehensible weap dred feet behind at the end of a long shark on unless one chanced to see it swung line. back and forth in a school of mullets or "yo' better cut, sa,” said scope, glancing waved over one's head like the scimeter at the white sea ahead. "ain't yo' gwine of aladdin. it was still too deep to grain, to cut, sa?” came again in a tremulous so we followed the stupid one, which looked voice. “i'm gwine to leave, sa,” this time neither to the right nor left for very good in desperation, and over went scope, while reasons, but moved straight on, climbing the boat rushed on the reef and grounded the rapidly shoaling floor of the lagoon to on a rock. the land flowing with milk and honey-for as a big roller came over, filling her, i echini, crayfish and holothurians, or bêche tried to cut, but was choked off by the de mer were the milk and honey of this water, and in the meantime the rope broke. sawfish. it presently turned to the left “so you thought you would get out and to avoid some branch coral and entered one walk and leave me in the moment of of the winding lanes in the coral, to sudden- peril?” i said, trying to conceal my laugh- ly find itself in very shallow water in the ter and assume an amount of sternness be- center of the lagoon; and here we crept fitting the desertion, as scope came wading upon it, scope shooting the dinghy ahead up. quickly while i tossed the grains. there "well, mawster," replied the crestfallen was a swirl of waters, and scope jerked the negro, “yo'll have to scuse me. i ain't dinghy around just in time to place us head nat'rally no hurdle jumper, an' i've got er on as the jerk came, and we rushed after fambly over yander," pointing to the key. the flying fish. scope rallied as i burst into a laugh, and it so happened that it was half tide and that night at the quarters i heard him tell a heavy sea was beating on the fringing some boys that i could have followed the reef, covering the dead ragged coral heads fish "ef i'd only had wings. side show studies the tragedy of the tigers and the power of hypnotism by francis metcalfe drawings by oliver herford operforo animals excited them; but whatever the cause, there was trouble in the narrow run- way at the back of the dens when they entered it to go to the exhibition cage for their first coney island appearance. the sound of their snarling and growling, the reports of pistol shots and the cracking of training whips caused a sensation of un- easiness in the audience until the first tiger bounded through the door at the back of the cage, closely followed by a half-dozen others. dangerous beasts they looked as they threw themselves against the stout bars, which rattled from the impact of their great bodies, and the front seats of the auditorium were quickly vacated by the audience. the noise in the runway con- "the first tiger bounded through the door." tinued, but the deep throaty growls which came from behind the dens were of a differ- (hauncey depew was at the ent quality from the snarling and yapping bottom of all the trouble; not the of the seven beasts in the exhibition cage, punctured senator from the state and when the last of the tigers appeared of new york, but his namesake, one of the in the doorway the first arrivals made re- handsomest double-striped, royal bengal newed efforts to escape through the bars. tigers ever captured. depew was the cen it was depew; not the good-natured- tral figure in the group which miller, the looking great cat whose “i have eaten the trainer of tigers, had worked so hard to canary" expression and smug whiskers had educate, and it was his rebellion which suggested his name, but a jungle tiger who made the teacher's labors of years come to had "gone bad," as the animal trainers call naught. late in the season, after months it, and who stood for a moment in the spent in giving the finishing touches to their doorway, wrathfully surveying his frantic education while they were with a small part companions and selecting a victim. froth of the show which was exhibited near cleve was dripping from his snarling lips, his land, the tigers were brought to dream small eyes were blazing like two points of land; a group of eight magnificent beasts, flame, the hair on his neck and back stood all jungle bred and each worthy of a place up like bristles, and his great tail struck in any menagerie. perhaps it was the dis the door-casing resounding whacks, as he comfort of the journey in the small travel lashed it from side to side. only a mo- ing cages, possibly the change in the sur ment he stood there, and then the great roundings and the nearness of the other striped body hurtled through the air as if c the outing magazine herford ing ferociously, his tail lashing from side to side. miller never took his eyes from him and kept between him and the door as he called the others by name and tried to regain control of them. one tiger after another was released, glad of the oppor- tunity to escape, as the door to the run- way was opened at miller's signal, until only depew, the body of bombay and the trainer occupied the cage. the other tigers had entered into a gen- eral free fight in the runway, but the noise of their bickering was unheeded in the ex- citement of the contest in the exhibition cage. depew rose as miller cracked his whip and approached him, and made a rush which the trainer met with his pronged training rod, driving it hard between the widely opened jaws while his whip rained blows upon the tiger's face. but he was * depew was still crouched on the body of his victim." only checked for a moment, and under his fiercer attack the trainer was forced to give shot from a catapult, and covering a good ground. they were so close that the tiger twenty feet in the spring it landed fair on could not spring, but he struck savagely bombay, one of the largest tigers in the with his great fore-paws and tried again group. the aim was a true one and the and again to pass the guard which miller sound of breaking bone mingled with a maintained with the training rod, using it scream of pain from his victim, as bombay as a fencer uses a foil. it was an unequal sank under the weight of the blow, his cer contest and the trainer realized that he was vical vertebræ crushed between depew's beaten; depew would not be driven from powerful jaws. the cage. the useless training whip was the door had been closed behind depew discarded and a savage rush from the tiger when he made his spring, and the other was met by a pistol shot in the face, blank tigers were chasing madly about the great cartridge, of course, but effective for a mo- cage, looking for a chance to escape. there ment. five more shots followed in quick was no desire to fight left in them, but when succession and the trainer backed quickly they collided with each other they snapped toward the door, when his foot slipped, he and struck with the instinct of self-preser was on his back, and depew, quick to seize vation, their sharp claws and teeth cutting the advantage, stood over him. gashes in the sleek striped coats. it was every keeper connected with the show evident that all training had been for stood about the cage with the roman gotten, that fear of anything so puny as candles, fire extinguishers, pistols and irons man had departed from the minds of the which are always kept in readiness, and tigers, and a groan went up from the audi any or all of them would have willingly en- ence when the door was opened and quick tered to rescue the man, but experience ly closed behind miller, the trainer, who has taught them that two cannot work to- stood, whip and training rod in hand, in gether in a cage with animals. they were the cage with the maddened animals. he quick to act, and a stream of water under went about his work as quietly as if it were heavy pressure from the fire hose struck only an ordinary performance, his object the tiger in the side, exploding fireworks being to return his pupils to their dens be scorched his skin, the din of revolver shots fore further damage was done and to try was in his ears, while the wads from the to make them recognize that they were cartridges stung him, but he seemed con- obeying him. scious only of the prostrate form beneath depew was still crouched on the body him. at last his chance had come; the of his victim, biting at the neck and growl trainer who for long months had made him side show studies do foolish things which were beneath the ing among themselves. they average dignity of a royal tiger was in his power, over a thousand apiece, for i bought the revolver which had so often checked only the best, and figure up the cost of him was emptied; the cruel training rod their keep, transportation and trainers' was powerless, for the hand which held it salaries for three years and you will find was pinned to the floor by a huge paw. that i am not far out. that is the diffi- cat-like he paused to glory in his triumph, culty of the show business in america, the loath to give the coup de grace which would public demands so much. it is a mar- put his victim beyond the reach of suf velous thing, when you come to think of fering, and he stood there growling, the it, to see one educated tiger; but if he bloody slaver from his jaws dripping on the wore evening clothes and played the fiddle upturned face of the prostrate man. it wouldn't impress the americans; they animal trainers need to think quickly would demand a full orchestra. i can give and to seize the slightest moment of hesi an act an hour long in paris with one high tation or indecision on the part of their school horse, but here they want fifty pupils if they wish to be long-lived, and liberty horses in a bunch and only care to miller, as he fell, had thrown his useless watch them for ten minutes. i realized pistol out of the cage and uttered the one that from bonavita's act with the lions; word “load! there was no time for that, no individual lion did very much, but the but tudor, seeing that the trainer had one fact that there were twenty-seven of them arm free, threw his own pistol through the in the cage drew the crowds. that's what bars and it slid across the floor of the cage made me start in with the tigers, and i in- straight as a die to the outstretched hand. tended to get a big group, but now i am it was a time when fractions of a second back where i started from. i don't be- count and depew's hesitation robbed him lieve a troupe of tigers can ever be trained.” of his revenge. the opened jaws were “hagenbeck has them,” ventured the within a foot of the trainer's throat when stranger. “they seem as tame as kittens the muzzle of the pistol went between with his show.” them, and depew, coughing and choking, "that's just the point,” answered the drew back, his throat scorched by the burn- proprietor. “they are as tame as kittens: ing powder, his eyes momentarily blinded undersized brutes which have been raised by the stream from a fire extinguisher, in captivity and which go through their while miller struggled to his feet. act like domestic cats. that isn't what “people who see the crowds at my show the public wants. a sensation—the reali- think that i must coin money,” said the zation that every animal in the cage is a wild proprietor as he joined the press agent animal and that he is liable to remember and the stranger after the performance. "but that accident in the arena to-night means a loss of fifty thousand dollars to me.” "isn't that a high fig- ure, even if they all die?” asked the stran- ger, who had been do- ing a little mental arith- metic. “for those eight, yes, although a trained tiger is worth all sorts of money, but i have pur- chased twenty-eight in all for that group, and oppis the others have been killed one by one, fight- “depew, coughing and choking, drew back," the outing magazine "merritt was quick enough to get a strangle hold around the snake's neck." it at any minute - is what holds atten mon boa-constrictor with a pair of shark's tion. that is why i always use jungle teeth and a dish of bird lime it would have animals when i can get them, for although fooled me. that snake was proud of the they can be as well trained they always horns which merritt glued on his head, too, perform under protest and it makes it and he used to chase the other snakes exciting. but the losses from fighting around the cage and butt 'em like a giddy among themselves make it mighty expen- billy-goat. but in spite of all his ingenu- sive to keep up the big groups which the ity in originating new varieties, business american public demands.” was dropping off, for the public demanded “that's one of the things which drove quantity as well as quality and we had me out of the show business,” said the skinned the local snake market clean. we press agent as he set his empty glass on were sitting in the office one day, figuring the table and signaled to the waiter. “a on where we could get additions to our guy named merritt and myself had a snake collection, when a stout, red-faced little show in new york a few years ago which man who had 'sea captain' written all over presented the most complete collection of him came in and asked if we wanted any reptiles ever gotten together, for it con more snakes. merritt allowed that we did tained specimens of every species of wrig- if the snakes and the prices were right, and gler known to herpetology and a good many asked where we could inspect them. that were not described in the books. that "well, i've got one that i brought from man merritt was an inventive genius and borneo and he's on a ship down in the har- had the california sharp, burbank, beaten bor,' says the captain. 'we won't argue a mile when it came to inventing new none about the price, for if you'll come species. when business was dull he'd take down and take him away you can have him a lot of common, ordinary snakes into the for nothing. that made merritt a little back room and with a bottle of peroxide suspicious, and he asked the captain if it of hydrogen and an assortment of aniline were his ship. dyes he would bring out albinos and spotted “i reckoned it was until two days ago, and striped snakes which made the scien when that blame snake broke loose,' he tists open their eyes and kept 'em busy answered irritably. “since then he seems inventing new latin names. to own it, and not a man jack of the crew “his biggest success was 'the great will go below. i've tried to shoot him, but two-horned rhinoceros serpent,' which the beggar's too quick, and i want to dis- made 'em all sit up for a month, and if i charge my cargo, so if you ain't afraid to hadn't seen merritt working over a com tackle him, come on.' -- side show studies “me afraid! me?' says merritt throw his shoulder and we all rubbered down the ing out a chest. "why, man alive, i'm hatchway to watch the capture. the only living snake charmer who ever “i knew what he would try to do, for i dared handle the dangerous two-horned had seen him work it before. the way to rhinoceros serpent, and do you think i'd get one of those big snakes is to cover his weaken before a common borneo python?' head with a bag, and then he'll crawl in “'i dunno whether you will or not until himself to get into the dark, which is a i see you try,' says the captain. i've serpent's idea of safety. the more you handled a malay crew, which is worse than prod 'em the faster they'll crawl, and that serpents, and i've mixed it up with most was the time when merritt always made of the scum that sails the seven seas, but passes with his hands and muttered gibber- this blame snake's got me bluffed, all right. ish to impress the spectators. he started he's three fathom long, as big around as in according to programme as soon as he the main mast, and made up principally of located the snake, which was half hidden muscle and wickedness.' among a lot of casks. · the snake carried “just watch me. watch me!' says out his part and struck at the opened bag merritt. i'll use my wonderful hypnotic which merritt held out to him, but instead power and you'll see the serpent crawl into of sticking his head in he grabbed it with the bag at my command, to be easily trans his teeth, and as merritt held on he drew ported to this moral and elevating show him back among the barrels and there was for exhibition as an example of the power a pretty fight. a pretty fight. merritt was quick enough of mind over matter.' to get a strangle hold around the snake's "all right, professor,' says the captain. neck and then it kept him busy keeping ‘but if you'll take my advice you'll stow out of his coils. the captain hadn't lied those shore-going togs and get into working much about the size of the python-he was rig before you tackle him. merritt was about thirty feet long--and merritt didn't arrayed in all his finery, and if you'd ever have time to use any incantation, although seen him you'd know that that meant a lot, considerable forcible language floated up for when he was flush he could make solo- through the hatchway. they wiped the mon in all his glory, or any other swell deck with each other for about twenty min- dresser, look like a dirty deuce in a new utes, and merritt had been bumped against deck. he had on a light suit with checks pretty nearly every cask in the hold be- which were so loud they drowned the fore he finally succeeded in drawing the music of the orchestra, and a shirt which sack over the snake's head. then it was would make a summer sunset hide its head easy, and in spite of his lack of breath the in disappointment. patent leather shoes showman in merritt asserted itself. he put with yellow tops and a white plug hat with the sack on the floor, and with one foot a black band around it completed his cos on the neck of it he prodded the snake's tume, except for a few specimens of yellow body with the other while he made mys- diamonds which adorned his shirt front and terious passes with his hands until the tip cuffs. of the tail disappeared. when the sack "merritt snorted contemptuously at the was securely tied up the python was hoisted suggestion and we started for the ship. on deck, and merritt, his clothing torn and when we got on board he made a little soiled with pitch and the miscellaneous speech before he went into the hold, telling oily and sticky things which made up the the sailors about his wonderful hypnotic ship's cargo, climbed up after it. power and how he would exercise it to “did you see me?' he asked proudly, charm the serpent which was preventing throwing out his chest. “did you observe their worthy captain from reaping the re the wonderful hypnotic power which over- wards of his arduous toil and his hardihood came the prowess of the serpent?' in having braved the perils of the vasty “yes, i noticed it, along toward the deep. the sailors listened and grinned, finish,' answered the captain, grinning but the captain was getting impatient and skeptically as he sized up merritt's dilap- suggested that merritt get the snake first idated idated apparel. 'but say, professor, what and give his spiel afterward, so merritt i can't understand is why you didn't get went down the ladder with the bag over it working sooner.'” where balancing is as necessary to success as neetness of foot. king of the kerb concerning the coster at work and play by may doney illustrated with copyright photographs l ondon's outdoor man is the coster. though his pitch is below the kerb, his he is the ishmael of our gutters. caravan a barrow, and his beast of burden a very jolly ishmael, it is true, who a russian pony, a donkey, or himself, he is more than content to acknowledge the is as free and as exclusive as any other line of demarcation between himself and lusty scion of the people who live under the true cockney. but, nevertheless, in a the skies. ishmael he is, and ishmael he modified, twentieth-century way, he is still chooses to remain. and the chances are the wild man whose hand is against every ten to one that whoever goes a-fishing for man's, and every man's against his. he information among the barrows will come is probably the last remnant of the world's back with an empty creel or a fine show of old race of wanderers—the last suggestion fisherman's tales. for your coster knows of the primitive man-left to the cities. both how to keep silence and how to use he is to us town dwellers what the gypsy his tongue picturesquely in defense of his is to the countryside. his descent seems jealously guarded traditions and the inter- to spring from the same roving stock. and nal economies of his existence. he is regarded, from a safe distance, with being an outdoor man, you would ex- the same contempt by those who don't pect the coster to be a sportsman, an ath- know him. his habits and his impulses lete, or a player of games for the games' still savor strongly of the days when tribe sake. some people will tell you he is the warred against tribe, and every man's arm one man in all london who utterly lacks was for himself and his clan. and al- the true spirit of sport. his god is the king of the kerb main chance. he will do nothing unless gutter. life has always been to him a it is likely to prove worth while. he will gamble with circumstances—the laying of only exert himself for the sake of an ad odds against evens. he has had no time vantage. you will find boxers, cyclists, for cultivating that higher spirit of recrea- running men-representatives, in fact, of tion which finds the chief delight in the most branches of sport-amongst the cos doing, and is ruled by the most delicate ters. but it is all done for what they can laws of propriety. frankly, his object is get out of it, never for the glory and the to chip out a foothold for himself upon the pure pleasure. and, with the exception of rock of time, cling to it with all his grap- their donkey racing, they have no charac- pling powers, and knock off anybody who teristic sport or game of their own. climbs close enough to endanger his own it would scarcely be so surprising were position. and so, when he plays, he plays the accusation true. the coster has al with the main object of making something ways been a trader “on the edge,” whether out of his amusement. he bartered contraband goods or sold the master this fact that the coster is a born overflow of glutted markets, whether his gambler, and you may consider yourself pitch has been upon the seashore or in the an inside spectator. approach him fairly the coster sometimes utilizes the "pram" between infant arrivals. - - donkey racing is the coster's one characteristic sport. he goes in for fancy races on his own feet also. the outing magazine from this point of view, stripping off all sleep, his wits must shine to a razor edge, prejudices, and you begin to understand or he will be “done” by the market auc- him, and to find out what a good sort he tioneers. for, in order to be even with is. his faults and his virtues are those of these gentlemen, you require to be able to the natural man. he has inherited them see, if not through a brick wall, at any rate from generations of forefathers whose aim through a packing case. take the instance has been to “best” the world at large, of dry fruit. your buyer is shown a sam- but to stand by each other whenever a ple which is everything it should be. but common or an individual danger threat if he insists upon seeing the inside of each ened. the passion for betting is born with case he is going to buy, he gets his head him, and he sucks in an added zest for it punched for his pains. he must gamble with his mother's milk. from the very by laying out so much upon the chance of first he is a creature of circumstance. from a fair proportion of sound fruit. a coster the earliest moment of his conscious experi- of ambitions, who buys for others as well the coster loads his barrow with cheap fish and soft fruit. ence he learns that every day is a little as himself, had thirty-seven boxes of apples life to itself, separated from that which knocked down to him at . a box. when comes before and after it by the special he opened them in his back-yard three out exigencies of its seventeen, eighteen, or of the thirty-seven contained sound fruit! nineteen working hours. and directly he the rest was rotten. it is not uncommon takes an active part in his parent's trade, for that same back-yard to smell like a he finds existence one endless gamble from sewer in consequence of such calamities. morning till night. and if a man, in desperation, once in a it begins with his trudge behind an emp while tries the remedy of the law, he is ty barrow round the markets. told that he was a fool to buy without vious day was a bad one he will start testing the bulk, and that, as he has done breakfastless. but although he may be so, there is no redress. hungry, and has had only five or six hours' having laid out his bit of capital, your if the pre- i he second-hand booksellers line the pavement in farringdon road. there is nothing you cannot buy from the king and the queen of the kerb. the outing magazine ners. ers. coster has to meet the next chance of the vious to forcible argument, or else as a day—the chance of selling. he may have stupid, down-trodden beast without a shred covered the length of a decent country of character beyond its miserable opposi- walk before his barrow is stocked. for he tion to the ills of life loaded on two wheels. is the medium between the glutted market but, like his or her master, jack or jenny and the poor, and a slump in any partic- long-ears needs a deal of knowing. half ular branch of produce is his opportunity. the donkeys that pull barrows are racers he may have had to visit all the markets, as well as toilers. they are innocent of or he may have loaded up at his first try, training, beyond that of incessant work, with cheap fish or soft fruit. if he carries and the reduction in quantity and improve- either of these he must sell out at a fair ment in quality of their food before the price during the day, to get his profit; for day, should their owners be prosperous. either is perishable to a degree. often, but they run like greased lightning almost. although custom seems to burn like wild there was a famous coster event in , fire around his open-air counter, he is los when “troublesome jack” covered five ing as fast as he uses his scales. or he les in minutes seconds, beating is selling under cost to minimize the loss. “bother-'em" upon the newmarket road! can you wonder that his mind is soaked not a bad record for a donkey. and the and his impulses are infected with the lust present champion of all london, “tommy of gambling? he stakes his all, day after hide,” has earned the title of “derby win- day, in his work. it is hardly strange, ner" by his eight conspicuous triumphs however deplorable, that he should take upon the road and the race-course. welsh his pleasures in the same way, preferring blood warms best to racing; but welsh games of chance and the luck of sport to donkeys are scarce. irish stock is not far the legitimate thing itself. he will lay out behind, and has produced many fleet run- his last sixpence for a seat in some music a racer costs anything from £ to hall or in a bet upon some sporting event, £ , according to its record and its pow- public or private, trusting to better luck but in exceptional cases the price to-morrow. he will wheel or drive his runs higher, one renowned trotter having barrow to ascot, goodwood, etc., etc., and fetched the round sum of £ . the little spend all his takings in putting a bit on sound-footed beast is as independent as this horse and that, and as likely as not its master, and turns as tough a skin to come back with empty pockets as well as weather and hardship. sixpence a day is an empty board. he will race his bit of the cost of its keep, and it represents the pony or donkey flesh against all comers, one special link between the coster and in spite of police vigilance, along the meas the active sporting world. ured mile north of the old mile end gate, the coster takes life as he finds it, and or on any piece of roadway that offers is jolly, whatever the day brings forth. facilities for evading the law, and make or study him at his gutter markets, and fol- lose money over the pace of the game little low him to the successive fields of his animal in his shafts. and he will enter amusement, during a year of his precarious that same plucky, if diminutive, steed for life, and you will always find him full of any legitimate racing in inclosed grounds rough humor and boisterous fun, “chip- if there is the least chance of its fiery hoofs ping” his mates over the day's disasters, turning up an extra gold coin or so for joking upon every provocation, romping him. but he won't stir a finger on behalf with his girl in holiday hours, and having of sport for the pure love of its cause, nor a good time generally, in spite of untoward will he strain a muscle over the excitements circumstances. from january ist to de- and the triumphs that are crowned bycember st, through all his changes of lucreless laurels and bays. stock, from coal and coke, potatoes and most people know as little about the dry fruit, to cheap fish, soft fruit, pot coster's “moke” as they do about the cos plants, and back again to coke and coal- ter himself. they picture a donkey either from the winter days of music-hall visits as a stubborn will set upon four sturdy and racing events under cover, to the hal- legs that plant it four-square to the world, cyon seasons of the big races, the outdoor and wrapped in a hide that makes it imper bank holidays, his own “sports,” and king of the kerb new barnet fair-he rollics through the months, the most happy-go-lucky, if the keenest, fellow under the british sun. watch him at covent garden early in the morning, rough with a vengeance, ready with coarse repartee, sharp as a needle, fighting for his own interests, but showing his good heart whenever some special need of kindliness appeals to his finer instincts. listen to the amazing flow of his pictorial language as he holds forth to a crowd on the subject of the desirability of his goods, passing from jest to sarcasm, from sarcasm ready to raise a laugh out of next to nothing. but the time to see him in his element, the time when he takes his stand—within the limitations i have mentioned as a man of sport, is at his own “coster sports," at the end of the summer. on that day, in especial, he shows what he can do. first in favor, of course, come the donkey and pony races. but he goes in for fancy races upon his own feet to a large extent also. and one of the features of the day is the basket race, a race in which the art of the coster's sisters and sweethearts also join in the bank holiday races. to inducement, from inducement to com balancing is as necessary to success as parison in a rush of eloquence that might fleetness of foot. each man carries ten well be the despair of any orator of party round market baskets upon his head from politics. take note of him on saturday, the starting to the winning post; or rath- his busiest day, when the naphtha lamps er, i should say, he should do so. for flare till midnight; and on monday, his the baskets do not always reach the goal. off day, when he goes sight-seeing and tak the chief difficulty is placing the baskets ing the air. rub shoulders with him in position, first of all, as every man must when he slips off the yoke of barrow life do this for himself. just before the date for a bit, and has his play. no matter you will see the costers practicing basket where you come across him, you will find running in the streets in which the gutter him turning a gay front to the world, and markets are held, when business is a bit the coster's mokes are adopted into the family. king of the kerb slack. the women take their part in the barrow proprietors in whitechapel. there day's events, too, and have their own races. are the dealers who buy up the clearings some run in their ordinary holiday clothes, of the warehouses, such as haberdashery some in costume, according to individual and the like, who do not take the risks of taste. you will always find that the wom perishable stock. and there are the sec- an, in costerland, shares both the business ond-hand booksellers whose movable coun- and the pleasures of the man. ters line that stretch of pavement in far- it is the buying and selling of beasts ringdon road famous in the book-buying that draws the coster in such numbers to world for its bargains and its finds. to new barnet fair. for wherever there is say nothing of the gutter auctioneer, who horse-flesh, or donkey-flesh, there, just as knocks down a variety of wares to an ad- surely, the barrow-man will be found. new miring crowd at seemingly suicidal sacri- barnet fair is one of his special gala times, fices. i verily believe there is nothing you and might almost be called the principal cannot buy off the barrows. and how the festival of the coster's year. after he has poor would live without them i do not know. bought or sold to his liking, and has made society entertainers have exaggerated his little deal in the live-stock sales, he the picturesque phases of coster life, and gives himself up to gayety. your coster have watered down the roughness of the makes his own amusement anywhere. give man with the barrow. “pearlies” and him a fair with shows, shooting galleries, velvet collars and wide-bottomed trousers and steam horses, as in this case, and he are almost things of the past. and this will be boisterously happy, and get every good-hearted gamester of the kerb is a ounce of enjoyment out of his spendings. wild enough fellow when excited, and is other folks call him rowdy. the truth is, not particular how many half bricks he he is such a seething caldron of animal flings about when a coster race has not spirits that both love and amusement seem finished to his liking. he is not above flavorless experiences to him unless there “doing” his own neighbors, he will under- is a bit of horseplay thrown in. and his sell at a loss to knock some associate out "donah” and his “old dutch” are thor of the running, he will generally take more oughly in sympathy with him in this re than he is given in the way of concessions- spect. marie lloyd was illustrating a true such as barrow room, for instance—and he bit of character when, in her impersonation would rather go hungry to bed night after of a coster's sweetheart, she exclaimed: night than join forces with the local shop- “dawn't yer love me, bill? then whoi keeper and agree to a fixed scale of prices dawn't yer knock me abaht?” advantageous to both. but he has three there are degrees and ranks in coster solid virtues that lift him above the moral land. the coster proper—the blue-blood level of many a man who never bets, or ed aristocrat of the gutter market, who has throws brickbats, or avowedly “bests" sprung from generations of barrow-men, another. who is his own master, and who deals in first, he works like a briton from the perishable produce, and stakes his little earliest hours until after nightfall, from the fortune upon the state of the great markets time when he leaves school until the day -is a clannish fellow, who denys the right of his death. consequently, although he of his title to outsiders who ply his trade. never saves, he rarely becomes a pauper. but public opinion and the county council secondly, he will always give while he has. regulations count any man a coster who no outsider who is obviously down on his sells from a barrow. there is the for luck ever asks him in vain. and, lastly, eigner who sells fruit in the city, and does he sticks to his womankind. nothing is a brisk business in the lunch hour. there too good for his sweetheart or his wife, are the costers' men who serve the jewish while he has a penny about him. the kaweah group from the side hill camp. the pass by stewart edward white photographs by the author ix the side hill camp and beautiful long fur. as they amble over the bowlders, they look to be much larger than they are. their chief delight the horses, too, hated to make a start. was to stand directly over an impregnable dinkey, in especial, uttered the most heart hiding place, and then to utter insults in rending moans and groans as we cinched a shrill, clear voice, which has earned them her up. and as for calamity jane, her farther north the name of siffleur. at long ears missed support entirely, and hung once the dogs, quivering with eagerness, as the force of gravity directed. would dash away. louder and louder tuxana and pepper, however, were de sounded the stream of vituperation. and lighted. they had long since terrorized then, at the very latest moment, the ground all the chipmunks and douglas squirrels bear would quietly disappear. pepper and and ground bears of the immediate vicin tuxana would butt their noses against the ity. when we whistled “boots and sad very unyielding spot where he had been. dles," as was our custom, all fell in line at the same instant his first cousin, re- obediently enough, but the two dogs fairly siding some hundreds of feet distant, frisked. would begin to mention to pepper the for several hours we wound leisurely up ridiculousness of her fuzzy bobtail, and to the defiles of deadman's cañon, ascending tuxana the impression produced by her the bits of steep trails up the terraces, small, pink-rimmed eyes, whereupon the crossing the knee-deep meadows between dogs would scramble away after this new them, admiring the straight, lofty cliffs on enemy. it must have been very hard on either hand, with their tiny fringe of pine their nervous systems, and i have no doubt trees on top, inconceivably remote, their that the ground bears, who are very wise jutting crags, like monstrous gargoyles and cynical in appearance, counted on overlooking an abyss, and their smooth, these tactics to reduce their pursuers to sheer sweeps in syncline of glacier-polished an early imbecility. late in the day, how- granite. at the foot of these cliffs were ever, we avenged our own animals by steep slopes of rock débris, thrown down shooting a ground bear. his carcass we by the action of frost and sun. among used for dog meat, which we lacked; his them had sprouted hardy bushes, afford tallow we employed for boot grease, of ing a cover in which we looked in vain for which we stood much in need; and his fur a possible bear. the cañon bottom con we gave to billy, who admired it. thus tained meadows, and strips of cottonwood his end was fitting. and quaking asp, as well as scattered juni we camped that night in the very last pers and cedars. a beautiful stream, the grove at the timber line. next morning west fork of roaring river, dropped from we were afoot literally by daylight, and one clear pool to another, or meandered it was very cold. the old trail to the between clean-cut banks of sod. prospect holes part way up the mountains a number of ground bear lived in the we found steep and difficult, but not dan- rocks. these are animals of the wood gerous. by ten we had reached, at the chuck family, about thirty or forty pounds same point, its end and the beginning of in weight, possessed of an impudent spirit the snow. we wound up the sides of deadman's cañon. here we discovered that modesto had a pack of cards. two or three sticks of cast a shoe-one of his nice new ones that stove wood had escaped burning. we thought we had nailed on fast. noth now what do you suppose such men ing remained but to unpack old slob, who expect to make out of a dubious copper carried the repair kits, and to undertake prospect in such a location? in the first the job then and there. wes volunteered, place, every pound of supplies would have and while he was at it, we looked about us to be packed from millwood, heaven knows with some curiosity. how many miles away, or over how many the miners had laboriously leveled in the mountains, and every pound of ore would granite débris two platforms for two tents. have to be packed out. in the second the remains of a rough forge stood near at place, it was now well on in august, hand. beneath a stone still lingered, un yet the snows had barely receded. two dissolved by the elements, the remains of months of work a year at most are all a we had no trouble at all in reaching the saddle. the pass when you man can hope for at such an elevation. are engaging conspirators, and i advise and to cap the apparent absurdity, the you never to pass by one of their camps. mineral to be mined is not one of the by this time wes had finished his job. precious metals. we repacked and continued on our way. i know of half a dozen such propositions thanks to my careful scouting of ten in the length of the sierras. and often i days before, we had no trouble at all in have seen their owners going in to the prop- reaching the “saddle.” at noon we called erties, old, white-bearded men for the most a halt there, ate our lunch, built a huge part, with jolly, twinkling eyes and a fund pile of rocks as a monument and congrat- of anecdotes. inquiry brings out that they ulated ourselves that the worst was over. are from stockton or sacramento or fres you see, we still clung to the ranger's no or some other valley town, and that they have been coming into the moun- tains for an incredible num- ber of years. speak to them of their mines, they always look mysterious, as though there were things of which they could not talk-yet. my theory is that these ancients are jolly and lov- able old frauds. they live respectably in their valley towns all winter, attending to their business and their pew rent and their social duties as staid and proper citizens. but when sum- mer comes, the old moun- taineering blood begins to stir in them. they are ashamed frankly to follow their inclination. how would it look! what an example for the young men! deacon brown has got tired of work, so he's going out to be a hobo! and imagine the enormity in the eyes of an industrious neighborhood of a two or three months' vacation. wes, pepper and tuxana become interested in food. so these delightful old hy- pocrites invent the legend of vast in statement that once at the top we would terests 'way up where the snow lies; and have no difficulty with the other side. year after year they sneak back to haunts already we began to plan how we would flavored by long associations, where they camp at the lower border of the round do a little pick and drill work-for a man meadow in the rock-bound cañon below must save his own self-respect, and, be us; how next day we would go on to red- sides, the game is interesting-and shoot wood meadow, and by the th be at kern a deer or so, and smoke a lot of strong, rank lake, and so on. this is a fatal practice. tobacco, and concoct wonderful things with just as soon as you begin to make up your onions in a covered and formidable frying- mind that you will catch some trout, or do pan, and just have a good time. they the washing, or something of that sort "billy" had cooked us a good supper. before supper, the trail is sure to lose itself, enced some difficulty and consumed some or develop unexpected difficulties, so that little time in getting over, the delay was at the end you must cook by firelight. an because of the necessity of looking out the inch on the map is a mighty deceiving best route. subsequent travelers, by fol- thing. lowing our monuments, and the field notes in the meantime, however, having fin- given in the appendix, should have no ished our hardtack and raisins, we poured difficulty, except at one place on the ledge, about two spoonfuls of whiskey over a of getting through. of the ledge, more cupful of snow, and solemnly christened hereafter. the route should prove a good this place elizabeth pass, after billy.* it short-cut between the south fork of the proved to be a little over twelve thousand king's river and the head-waters of the feet in elevation. although we experi kaweah. we cached a screw-top can in the mon- * see s. e. corner of the tehipite quadrangle, u. s. survey. ument. it contained a brief statement of among big, rugged cliff debris. resting at the top of elizabeth pass. names and dates, named the pass, and head, not to speak of half-sunken ledges, claimed for billy the honor of being the down which the horses had to slide or jump. first woman to traverse it. then we took but for all that the going, as granite coun- a last look on the tumult of mountains to try runs, was neither dangerous nor too the north, and addressed ourselves to the difficult, and we congratulated ourselves task of following, as far as it led, the piece that at this rate we would be able to test of trail i had constructed ten days before. the coldness of the waters in the lake before the descent for a thousand feet was even the early mountain sunset. almost suspiciously easy. we slid down up to the time we gained the head of a rather steep and stony ridge at right the ravine we had traveled over uncom- angles to the main system, turned sharp promising rock--and nothing else. here, to the left across its shoulder, and so gained however, we waded at once knee-deep into a shallow ravine. all this was over shale, full-blossomed blue lupins. they filled the stones and angular rocks the size of your depression between the lateral ridges, and the thin black line across the face of the cliff is the ledge by which we descended. the lake that wes discovered. the pass flung themselves far up the slopes, hun a mountain some twenty-five hundred feet dreds and hundreds of acres of them, like from summit to meadow. it was not a flat a huge tapestry laid out to our honor. ledge, but rounded outward to the plunge. their fragrance was almost overpowering, where it joined the upper cliff a little soil and their color paled even the intense blue had gathered, and on that soil had grown of the heavens. below they ran out into a tough, thick sod. this strip of sod, tuft-grass between the stones, and still whose surface was steep as a roof, varied below that were two scattered groves of in width from one to several feet. i recog- lodge-pole pines and junipers. nized the fact that while no horse could we made our way with extra care possibly walk on it, nevertheless we might through the lupins, for though they were be able to cut enough of a notch in it to beautiful, they masked the uncertainty afford footing. a cursory examination, the footing. after awhile we came to the however, soon turned me in another direc- bunch grass, which was easier, and so tion. at one point the ledge ceased for through the thin mask of trees. about twelve feet. up to the beginning below us the hill dropped off sheer in of that twelve feet the slender vein of sod a tremendous plunge. we found after ran unbroken; beyond that twelve feet it ward that it was about fifteen hundred continued until it appeared to run out on feet. to the left we knew the upper basin shale. but between was nothing but hard, to be on about the same level as ourselves. - slippery granite, slanted away at an im- from it leaped the kaweah over the rim possible angle to a final perpendicular drop of the amphitheater on which we stood, of nearly a quarter of a mile. unless one vanished from sight, and reappeared in had a flying-machine ferry, thought i, he slender filaments feeling their way through would hardly cross horses over that gulf. the meadow below. to the right our side so i turned back. the face of the moun- hill seemed to merge in more precipitous tain below where we had paused was ut- mountains. below the meadow the river terly impassable. it, too, consisted of a appeared to take another plunge to another series of inclined ledges, disconnected, and level. all pinching out to nothing. a man could the problem, of course, was to find a way get down afoot, by doing some dropping, from the rim to the bottom of the amphi some jumping, and a good deal of stout theater. we could see the opposite side, clinging. i did so, and shortly found my- and part of one end. dismounting, we self looking far up the cliff and wondering examined the prospect carefully through how i had ever accomplished it. a glass. starting at the top we would fol that was not my pressing business for low out inch by inch the possibilities of the moment, however. turning to the descent. always the most promising ledges left i hurried across the immense piles of ended in thin air or narrowed to the point of débris that sloped steeply away from the merging with the face of the cliffs. a single cliff, crossed the stream below the water- streak of green, almost perpendicular and fall, and commenced the ascent of the strip next the waterfall, offered the only possi- of green we had made out through our ble way. it might be grassy, on soil, in glasses. which case we would be able to cut in it at first i was enough encouraged to a zigzag trail; or it might consist of bushes, stick up a few tentative monuments. then which might or might not mask an im i struck a bad place. it is easy to slur passe. our side of the basin was, of course, over bad places, when you are afoot. they concealed. are easy enough for you. i wanted awful- it was decided that i should explore on ly to climb over hastily and forget it, but foot to the right and below. i resolved i knew retribution would follow later. so first of all to continue as far as possible to i canvassed all the possibilities as to that the right on our present level. the way bad place, and ended by making a fresh led first through another steep and scat start just below it. this time i got a tered grove, past a shale slide, and so trifle farther, had to reconsider again, and out to the ledge. so made progress, a little at a time. the ledge was nothing more nor less the mountain teased me up that way than a break in the sheer granite sweep of for about six hundred feet. then she the outing magazine carelessly tossed a few hundred tons of of bowlders seemed to swim placidly above angular rocks across the way. the bushes their own reflections. opposite was a concealed them; but they were there, and long, black mountain of rock whose sides it did not take me more than ten minutes were too steep to retain snow, and which to determine the utter impracticability of showed, therefore, in the more striking con- that as a way down. so i threw away trast to the white all around its base. we circumspection and climbed rapidly back called it the frozen monster, because of its to the rim of the basin. shape. it belonged evidently to the croc- i found the party awaiting me eagerly. odile family, had a blunt head, short, “which way?” called wes. sprawling legs, and a long reptilian tail. “as near as i could tell,” said i, “it is the resemblance was perfect, and required no way. there's a ledge over there to the but little of the exercise of the imagination west that peters out, but which i only such likenesses usually demand. on clos- looked at from a distance. it may look ing our eyes at night, the last thing we saw better when you get nearer. everywhere was this sleeping saurian, benumbed by else is straight up and down.” the perpetual cold in which he dwelt. we “well, let's tackle it.” amused ourselves speculating as to his “it's too big a proposition for to-day,” awakening. it ought to occasion quite a said i; “we'd better camp.” stir among the old liars who always kill “where?” cried billy, aghast. their grizzlies with a knife, for he was over “here," said i. a mile long. “why, it's right on a side hill!” she ob above the frozen monster towered the jected. bleak and forbidding peaks of the kaweah “it is," i agreed. "if you drop a ket- group, running abruptly down to where a tle, it is going to roll off into space, and bend in the cañon concealed what must you'll never see it any more. the same have been the beginning of the pine coun- to you, ma'am. but here's some bunch try. all about us, thus, were great peaks, grass, and there's a bit of a stream in rugged granite, snows. we looked at them those big rocks yonder, and right by from the middle point; they were co-equal you is the only log of dry wood in this with us, on our own plane of existence, like township." gigantic comrades. in the next two days we had a lot of fun making camp on we acquired gradually the feeling that we that side hill. using the back of the axe were living out in the air, away from the as a sort of pick, we managed to dig out solid earth that most people inhabit-as a below a bowlder a level large enough to man might feel who lived on a scaffold contain our fire irons. “upstairs” fifty above a city. clinging to the shoulder of feet was another bowlder. above this one the mountain, we lost the assurance of level billy and i, with great labor, scraped a ground, but gained an inflation of spirit narrow trough in which to sleep. “down that for the moment measured itself by the stairs” wes did the same. he contemplat- standard of these titanic peaks. ed the result somewhat dubiously. again, we early fell under the illusion “in this country,” said he, “a man has that somehow more sunshine, more day- to picket himself out to sleep." light, was allotted to us than to less for- water we dipped up cup by cup into tunate mortals. each morning we arose our folding canvas pail from a single place in the full sunrise, to look down on the where it showed above the massive granite cañon still dim and gray with dawn. each débris that filled its course. we could hear evening we cooked supper, in the shadow, it singing up through the interstices of it is true, but with sunshine all about us, the cool, gray rocks. wood we chopped while plainly the cañon had set its affairs from the single log. it was resinous and in order for the night. in time the notion burned quickly with a tremendous heat took us that thus we, little atoms, were and much soot, but it sufficed for our sim- sharing some extra-human privilege with ple cooking. then we sat down and looked the calm giants all about us; that if we about us. only could grow our souls to meet the rare the meadow below was already decent- opportunities here offered us we could enter ly on toward night. in the lake a number into and understand the beautiful mys- the pass so teries that are in the afterglows on the to projections of the rocks, and to the mountains. twisted bushes growing marvelously in a number of more prosaic considerations their interstices. the steep, grassy strip were likewise forced upon us. for in was slippery, but testing its consistency stance, it took a fearfully long time to boil with the back of the axe we found it solid things, and a deal of hard work to get and tough. the ten-foot precipice we about, and still more hard work to keep the climbed above, scrambling where even a cooking fire supplied with fuel. after the goat could not have gone. we paid little sun dipped below the horizon, the snow attention to it for the moment. there cold swooped like a hawk, and we soon would be plenty of time to worry over its found ourselves offered the choice of retire difficulties when we had discovered the ment at an unheard-of hour or else pro possibilities beyond. longed rustling for firewood. now it hap them we found rather good. the ledge pened that some dwarf trees, not over here became a strip of very steep side hill three or four feet high, but thick and twist included between two precipices. that ed and sturdy as gnomes, grew thereabout. side hill was thick and tangled with stunted we discovered them to be full of pitch, brush, serrated with outcropping ledges, so we just set fire to one each evening. unstable with loose and rolling stones, but it burned gorgeously, with many-colored some sort of a trail through it was merely flames, taking on strange and sinister an affair of time and hard work. one ten- shapes and likenesses as the coals glowed foot slide made us shake our heads a little, and blackened and fell. it must have for it ended with a right-angled turn. to puzzled the frozen monster - if he hap- continue straight ahead meant departure pened to uncover one sleepy eye — this by the balloon route. finally, we arrived single tiny star, descended from the heav at an almost perpendicular watercourse ens, to wink brave as a red jewel on the emerging from a “chimney” in the preci- shoulder of the mountain. pice above us. it contained but a trickle in the night it grew to be very cold, of very cold and very grateful water, but that the mountains looked brittle, and the in the melting of the winter snows evident- sky polished, and the stars snappy like ly accommodated a torrent. at any rate, electric sparks. but we had on all the its bowlder-filled bottom was some four clothes we owned, and our blankets were feet below our level and that of the trail warm. tuxana and pepper crawled down route on the other side. to nestle at our feet. far up above we as i have said, the bottom was bowlder- could hear the bell. the horses, as was filled, great big round fellows impossible their custom, would eat all night. then, to move. the banks were of cemented guided by some remarkable instinct, they rubble and rock impossible to break down would roost accurately on the first spot to without powder. no horse could cross it be reached by the sun. there, fur ruffled as it was, and materials for a bridge lacked. like velvet, they would wait patiently the “never mind,” said wes, “we'll tackle chance to warm up and snatch a little it later." sleep. we crossed to the other side, scrambled x around a bend, and found ourselves on a little flat. just beyond the flat we could see that another steep shale slide began. by shortly after sun-up the next morn we walked to the edge and looked. in- ing wes and i were out. we carried with stead of running off to a jump, as did every us our only implements—the axe and the other slide on this mountain, it reached short-handled shovel. the way we mon quite down to the round meadow. umented led along the side hill, with some “there's our way down,” said wes. “i twisting to avoid bad outcrops and bowl don't know whether we can get through der stringers; diagonally through the thin the cañon; but anyway we'll have horse grove of lodge-pole pines, and by a series feed, and wood and water.” of steep lacets down a coarse sand slide to we turned back, resolved now on pick- the beginning of the ledge. ing our way through more in detail. the here we proceeded cautiously, clinging watercourse we left for the time being. the ledge the outing magazine picking a way is good fun. you must horses behave,” remarked wes, “but," he first scout ahead in general. then you continued, “each animal's got only one determine more carefully just where each stumble coming to him.” hoof is to fall. for instance, it is a ques by noon we had worked our way back tion of whether you are to go above or tu the break in the ledge. here we ate below a certain small ledge. you decide lunch. then we attacked the grass strip on going below, because thus you will on the other side. dodge a little climb, and also a rather slip this was from a foot to a yard or so pery-looking rock slide. but on investi in width. we attempted to dig a right- gation you find, hidden by the bushes, a angled notch in it, but found it too tough. riven bowlder. there is no way around it. shortly the shovel twisted out of my hands, so, then, retrace your steps to the place and as the exact hairline perpendicular where you made your first choice. the was necessary to stay on earth at all, i upper route again offers you an alterna had to watch it slide gently over the edge. tive. you select one; it turns out well; we never heard it hit. after that we forks again. but you discover both these tried the back of the axe, but that did not forks utterly impracticable. so back you work any better. finally, we made up our must hike to the very beginning to dis reluctant minds that we would have to use cover, if you can, perhaps a third and the edge-and we had nothing but a file heretofore unconsidered chance. then, if with which to sharpen it afterward. so, none are good, you must cast in review then, we chopped out a way, probably six the features of all your little explorations inches in width, hard and firm enough, and in order to determine which best lends wide enough provided no one got panicky. itself to expedients. this consumes time, this was slow work, and evening caught but it is great fun. us just as we connected with the zigzag wes and i took turns at it. while i we had made that morning down the shale. picked a way, wes followed my monu next day we attacked the two more ments, constructing trail. then after a difficult problems that remained. first, little we changed off. we cut a log ten inches through and about making trail for the moment consisted twelve feet long. to either end of this we quite simply in cutting brush, and rolling attached our riatas. the tree had grown rocks out of the way. the latter is hard almost at the head of the shale slide. on the hands. i started out with a pair of we rolled and dragged and checked and "asbestos” gloves, but wore holes in the snubbed it down the slide until we came fingers after half an hour. then i dis opposite the trail we had made along the covered that the human skin is tougher, ledge. this was no mean undertaking, although by the end of the morning the for the weight was about as much as we ends of my fingers were wearing pretty could possibly handle even in the best of thin. the round stones rolled off with a circumstances, and the circumstances were prodigious bounce and crash and smell of far from the best. at times it seemed fire. when they reached the edge they that that log would get away in spite of seemed fairly to spring out into the air. us, taking our riatas with it. then by after that we knew no more of them, not tremendous efforts we would succeed in even by the sound of their hitting, al stopping it against a hidden ledge or a though we listened intently. i suppose solid bowlder. the thing seemed instinct the overhang of the cliff threw the sound with malicious life. when, finally, we outward, and then, too, it was a long dis would get it bedded down against some tance to the bottom. the large flat slabs resting place, we would remove our hats gave way with a grumbling, slid and slit and wipe the sweat from our brows and tered sullenly to the edge and plumped look about us with a certain astonishment over in a dogged fashion. there were a that the landscape was still in place. we great many of these, and the trouble was would eye that log a little malevolently, that though they were all solid enough in and we would be extremely reluctant to appearance, most would give way under wake the resting devil into further move- pressure. ment. but as further movement was nec- "this trail is a good trail, provided the essary, we always had to do it. the pass up and when, finally, we had dragged our on the way home we paused at the log huge captive to the notch on the ledge, its to throw sods in the crack between it disposition abruptly changed. it became and the granite apron. this was not for sullen. we had to urge it forward an inch greater solidity, but merely to reassure our or so at a time, by mighty heaves. its horses somewhat by making it look more front end gouged down into the soil as like a trail. though trying to bury itself; it butted we arrived in camp after sundown dead against rocks and corners; it hung back weary, but rejoiced to find that billy had like a reluctant dog. and whenever it .cooked us a good supper. the evening thought our attention was distracted, it was a short one, and almost before the attempted suddenly to roll off sideways. frozen monster had blended with the night, we soon discovered that the best method we crawled between the blankets. was to apply the motive power from the sun-up found wes and me scrambling hinder end and the directing force from the a thousand feet above camp, short-winded, front riata. we took turns, change about, breakfastless and disgruntled. of course, and in what seemed to me at the moment the horses had strayed—they always do most undue course of time, we arrived at when you have a particularly hard day be- our break in the ledge. the passage had fore you. also they invariably stray up- consumed three hours. we were pretty hill. i remember once climbing four thou- tired, for in addition to having a heavy sand feet after dinkey. she was plodding weight to drag, the possibilities of applying calmly through granite shale, and had strength on such precarious footing were passed by good feed to get there. why necessarily limited. i do not know. however, in this case we here we rested. then i climbed the could not much blame them for seeking face of the mountain twenty feet to where feed where th could, only it did seem a the cliff jutted out. around the projec- little unnecessary that they should be at tion i threw the loop of one of the riatas. the upper edge of that patch of lupins. then i crossed above the break to the so we took a parting look at the snow other side of it. wes tossed me the end and granite where rose the kaweah, and of the second riata. , when i had it, he the frowning black steeps of the kaweah shoved the log off the ledge. there it group opposite, and the frozen monster hung straight down the granite, dependent sprawled in his age-long sleep. first, we from the line had already made fast to rode to the shale slide. then we led to the projection above. next i took in on the beginning of the ledge. then we tied the second riata, whereupon, naturally, up, and began the rather arduous task of that end of the log rose to my own level, leading our animals along it one by one. and the gap was bridged. of course, bullet had the honor of there remained now to assure its solid precedence. the mere ledge was easy to ity. i looped a great round bowlder on my him, for the footing was good enough, side. then we tested every inch of hold though limited in quantity. a misstep of those two ropes, lest they slide or would have tragic consequences, but there abrade. wes crossed first over the new existed no real excuse for a mountain bridge, and so we went on to our second pony's misstepping. at the log he hesi- problem, well pleased with our solution of tated a little; but as i walked boldly out the first. on it, he concluded it must be all right, the gully we decided we should have to and so followed gingerly. after a time we fill. a certain number of loose bowlders reached the rounded knoll, where trouble and stones lay ready to our hands, but the ended. i tied him to a bush and went supply of these was soon used up. we back for another animal. by ten o'clock then had to carry our materials from everybody, including billy, had crossed greater or lesser distances as we could find in safety. we resumed the saddle, and them. this was plain hard work, at turned sharp to the left for what now which we sweated and toiled until we had amounted to a thousand-foot descent. moved a few tons of granite. then we it was steep and loose. sometimes it chinked our stone bridge with smaller seemed that the horses were going to splinters until we considered it safe. stand on their heads. often they slid for the outing magazine so twenty feet, unable to do anything but slides, around which it might be possible keep their balance, a merry, bouncing little to scramble. we proceeded to do so. the avalanche preceding them, their hoofs sink- journey was rough. to our right and ing deeper and deeper in the shale, until at above stood monoliths of stone, sharp and last the very accumulation would bring hard against the very blue sky of the high them up. then they would take another altitudes. they watched us stumbling step. none but horses raised to the busi and jumping and falling at their feet. ness could have done it. they straddled after a great deal of work and a very long thin ledges, stepped tentatively, kept their time we skirted that lakefive hundred wits about them. after a long time we feet above it-and found where the preci- found ourselves among big, rugged cliff pice had relented, and so made our way débris. we looked up to discover what down to its level. in the absorption of the descent we had not twice more we accomplished these long realized—that we had reached the bottom. jumps from one terraced meadow to an- with one accord we turned in our sad other. the sheer cliff walls rose higher dles. the ledge showed as a slender fila and higher above us, shutting out the ment of green threading the gray of the mountain peaks. by three o'clock it had mountain. become late afternoon. the horses were with some pains we made way through tired; were we. we should have the fringe of jagged rock, and so came to camped, but the strong desire to see the the meadow. it was nearly circular in thing through grew on us. we were now shape, comprised perhaps two hundred in the bottom, where grew alders and wil- acres, and lay in cup of granite. the lows and cottonwoods. occasionally we cup was lipped at the lower end, but even came across the tracks of the wild cattle there the rock rose considerably above the of the mountains. level of the grasses. we were surprised and then the river dropped again over to note that the round lake, which from a fall; and we had to climb and climb and above seemed directly adjacent to the climb again until we had regained the sun- meadow, was nowhere to be seen. evi- light. a broad, sloping ridge, grown thick dently it lay beyond the low stone rim with quaking asp, offered itself. we rode down the cañon. along it, dodging branches, blinded by we rode out through the rich grasses, leaves, unable to see underfoot. abruptly belly high to the horses. no animal we burst from them into a deep pine woods, grazed there, except the deer. the stream soft and still. divided below the plunge from above to i was riding ahead. the woods stretched meander in a dozen sod-banked creeks here before me as far as i could see. i eased and there through the meadow, only to myself in my saddle. somewhere ahead reunite where the lip of the cup was riven. the route from the giant forest to mineral we rode to the top of the rock rim. the king ran at right angles. some time we lake was indeed just beyond, but at least would cross it. five hundred feet lower. we looked over and then, without warning, there ap- a sheer precipice, which, nevertheless, had peared, almost under my horse's hoofs, a remained quite invisible from our side hill deep, dusty brown furrow. i reined in, camp. this was serious. we hitched the staring. it did not seem possible that the horses in some lodge-pole pines, and sep thing should have happened so quietly, arated to explore. subconsciously i must have anticipated i found that the precipice continued to some pomp and blare of trumpets to her- the very hind foot of the frozen monster. ald so important an event. the appear- at one point a deep gorge opened passage ance of this dusty brown furrow, winding to the river. a smoke of mist ascended down through the trees, represented so from it dense as steam; the black rocks much labor of mind and body, so much dripped; jagged monsters appeared and uncertainty, so many discomforts, so many disappeared beyond the veil. obviously doubts and fears and hopes! and now it nothing but a parachute would avail here. came into view as simply as a snow plant wes reported a steep side mountain, or a fallen pine cone. all we had to do covered with brush, loose stones and rock was to turn to the left. by that act we the pass stepped from the great shining land of ad- venture and high emprise to the every day life of the many other travelers who had worn the deep furrow. for this was the trail. (the end.) course. appendix on re-reading the chapters of the pass, it has occurred to me that some might imagine that we consider the opening of elizabeth pass an extraordinary feat. this is not true. anybody could have done it. i have attempted merely to show how such things are undertaken, and to tell of the joys and petty but real difficulties to be met with on such an expedition. i hope the reader will take this account in that spirit. field notes regular trail into roaring river. ascend west fork of river; proceed by monumented and blazed miner's trail to cirque at end of cañon. when a short distance below the large falls, at a brown, smooth rock in creek bed, turn sharp to left-hand trail. climb mountain by miner's trail to old if snow is heavy above this point, work a way to large monument in gap. the east edge of snow is best. from gap follow monuments down first lateral red ridge to east. this ridge ends in a granite knob. the monuments lead at first on the west slope of the ridge, then down the backbone to within about two or three hundred yards of the granite knob. turn down east slope of ridge to the water follow west side of water course to a good crossing, then down shale to grove of lodge-pole pines. cross west through trees to blaze in second grove to westward above lake. follow monuments to slide rock on ledge. best way across is to lash a log, as we did. follow monu- ments to knoll west of first water course. turn sharp to left down lateral ridge for about one hundred feet. cross arroyo to west, and work down shale to round meadow. from meadow proceed through clump of lodge-pole pines to northwest. keep well up on side hill, close under cliffs. cross the rock apron in little cañon above second meadow. work down shale ridge to west side of the jump-off below second meadow. at foot of jump-off, pass small round pond-hole. strike directly toward stream, and follow monumented trail. mine camp. the clannish sparrow and the cricket thermometer the writer saw recently a queer proceed ter away from him, and made no resistance ing which raised the pugnacious sparrow when he picked it up. the sparrow was several degrees in his estimation. it showed blind; its eyes were covered with a milky- that the sparrow was susceptible to kind like film. ness, and would do much to relieve an ailing member of his feathered flock. for sev have you ever remarked that the chirp- eral days the writer noticed that four or ing of crickets on a hot summer's night five sparrows would visit a certain place falls into a rhythmic beat? i wonder if on the roof near his window; and they you know that this beat is a very accurate always brought food for another little fel thermometer? in the latitude of boston low, who never tried a flight from the spot. where it first was brought to my attention, the visiting sparrows never came empty the crickets chirp about fifty times a min- billed. they would drop tiny morsels of ute at a temperature of °, and four chirps food near the little sparrow. when it a minute for every degree above that. i would begin to eat the crumbs the others have not been able to test this matter in would commence a great chirping, and then other latitudes, but i am told on good fly away. after watching this for a few authority that though the number of beats days the writer went out on the roof and to a minute may vary, there is a ratio of approached the lone bird. it did not flut- increase which is almost invariable. bar range yarns iii.--trials of a peaceful puncher by clarence edward mulford painting by n. c. wyeth s moke drifted over by the celerity and certainty of his gun the table in an hand, which was right or left, or both, as agitated cloud and the occasion demanded. dribbled lazily hopalong was an active member of the upward from the outfit representing the bar , a ranch muzzle of a six of the pecos valley, texas, and adjoining shooter. the man the town of buckskin. he was well known who held it looked throughout the cattle country, as were his searchingly at chums. many stories of him were in cir- those around him. culation, the morals of which were calcu- strained and eager faces peered at his oppo- lated to inspire respect and deference; and nent, who was sliding slowly forward in his the reputation of his outfit was also estab- chair. his head rolled inertly on his shoul lished. buck peters, the foreman, red der and the edge of his half-open shirt showed connors and the others were famed for a purplish spot on its faded blue surface. their sand, marksmanship and humor. for the length of a minute no sound but they had been tried many times and were the guarded breathing of the onlookers labeled “o. k.” could be heard. this was broken by the at the present time hopalong was drift- thud of the falling body and a nervous ing home from one of his nomadic trips, and cough from the rear of the room. the he had left his card at almost every place faces assumed their ordinary nonchalant he had visited. there was that affair in expressions, their rugged lines heavily red-hot gulch, colorado, where, under shadowed in the light of the flickering oil pressure, he had invested sundry pieces of lamps. two men carried the body from lead in the persons of several obstreperous the room, and the shuffling of cards and citizens, and then had paced the zealous the clink of silver became audible. “hopa and excitable sheriff to the state line. long” cassidy had objected to insulting he next was noticed in cheyenne, where remarks about his affliction. his deformity was vividly dwelt upon, to hopalong was very sensitive about his the extent of six words, by one tarantula crippled leg, and was always prompt to charley, the aforesaid charley not being resent any scorn or curiosity directed at it, able to proceed to greater length on account especially when emanating from strangers. of heart failure. as charley had been an a young man of twenty-three years, when ubiquitous nuisance, there were no objec- surrounded by nearly perfect specimens of tions as to the manner of his going, and physical man hood, is apt to be painfully those present availed themselves of the op- self-conscious of any such defect, and it portunity offered by hopalong to indulge reacted on his nature at times, even though in a free drink. he was well known for his happy-go-lucky laramie was his next stopping place, and disposition and playfulness. he consoled shortly after his arrival he was requested himself with the knowledge that what he to sing and dance by a local terror, who lost in symmetry was more than balanced informed all present that he was the only ho sns nowe painting by n. c. wyeth. “sitting up cross-legged, with each hand holding a gun from which came thin wisps of smoke." - bar range yarns seventeen-buttoned rattlesnake in the cow shoulder, and missed buck peter's head by country. hopalong, hurt and indignant the breadth of a razor's edge in his belief at being treated like a common tenderfoot, that it belonged to the partner of the man promptly knocked the terror down, which he had just shot. he was overjoyed at forced him, later in the day, to separate seeing buck and red, the latter grinning his snakeship from his "buttons" with a as only red could grin, and he withdrew . caliber slug. after he had irrigated from the game to enjoy his good fortune. several square feet of parched throats be while hopalong had been wandering longing to the audience, he again took up over the country the two friends had been his journey and spent a day at denver, hunting for him and had traced him suc- where he managed to avoid any further cessfully, that being due to the trail he had trouble. blazed with his six-shooters. this they santa fé loomed up before him several had accomplished without harm to them- days later and he entered it shortly before selves, as those of whom they inquired noon. at this time the old spanish city thought that they must want hopalong was a bundle of high-strung nerves, and “bad," and cheerfully gave the informa- certain parts of it were calculated to fur tion required. nish any and all kinds of excitement except they had started out more for the pur- revival meetings and church fairs. hopa- pose of accompanying him for pleasure, but long straddled a lively nerve before he had that had changed to an urgent necessity been in the city an hour. two local bad in the following manner: men, slim travennes and tex ewalt, de while on the way from denver to santa siring to establish the fact that they were fé they had met pie willis of the “three- roaring prairie fires, attempted to con triangle," a ranch that adjoined their own, sume the placid and innocent stranger as and they paused to pass the compliments he limped across the plaza in search of a of the season. game of draw poker at the black hills "purty far from th' grub wagon, pie," emporium, with the result that they were remarked buck. extinguished, to the chagrin and disgust of "oh, i'm only goin' to denver," re- their immediate acquaintances, who en sponded pie. deavored to drown their mortification and “purty hot," suggested red. sorrow in rapid but somewhat wild gun “she shore is. seen anybody yu play. after they had collected several knows?” pie asked. ounces of lead apiece they had pressing “one or two-billy of th’ star crescent engagements elsewhere, with the exception an' panhandle lukins," answered buck. of one who remained to mark the spot. "that so? panhandle's goin' to punch hopalong reloaded his guns and pro for us next year. i'll hunt him up. i ceeded to the emporium, where he found a heard down south of albuquerque that game all prepared for him in every sense thirsty jones an' his brothers are lookin' of the word. on the third deal he ob for trouble,” offered pie. jected to the way in which the dealer man "yah! they ain't lookin' for no trouble ipulated the cards, and when the smoke they just goes around blowin' off. trou- cleared away he was the only occupant of ble? why, they don't know what she is,” the room, except a man who lay face down remarked red contemptuously. on the other side of the table, and a dog, "well, they's been dodgin' th' sheriff belonging to the bartender, that had inter purty lively lately, an’ if that ain't trouble cepted a stray bullet. i don't know what is,” said pie. hunting up the owner of the hound, he "it shore is, an' hard to dodge,” ac- apologized for being the indirect cause of quiesced buck. the animal's death, deposited a sum of "well, i has to amble. is panhandle in mexican dollars in that gentleman's palm, denver? yes? i calculates as how me and went on his way to alameda, which he an' him 'll buck th' tiger for a whirl-he's entered shortly after dark and where the shore lucky. well, so long," said pie as opening event took place. he moved on. several hours as his luck was "so long," responded the two. vacillating, he felt a heavy hand on his "hey, wait a minute,” yelled pie after the outing magazine he had ridden a hundred yards. “if yu been slammed three times in one evening sees hopalong yu might tell him that th' by one man, the last slam being so forcible joneses are goin' to hunt him up when they as to shake two bottles from the shelf and gits to albuquerque. they's shore sore to crack the door itself, he became positive on him. 'tain't none of my funeral, only that his suspicions were correct, and so was they ain't always a-carin' how they goes very careful to smile and take it as a joke. after a feller. so long,” and soon he was finally, wearied by his vain efforts to keep a cloud of dust on the horizon. it open and fearing for the door, he hit upon “trouble!” snorted red; "well, between a scheme, the brilliancy of which inflated dodgin' harris an' huntin' hopalong his chest and gave him the appearance of a reckons they'll shore find her.” then to prize-winning bantam. when his patrons himself he murmured, “funny how every strolled in that night there was no door to thin' comes his way." slam, as it lay behind the bar. “that's gospel shore ejuugh, but as pie when buck and red entered, closely said, they ain't a whole lot particular as followed by-hopalong, they elbowed their how they deals th' cards. we better get a way to the rear of the room, where they move on an' find that ornery little cuss,” could see before being seen. as yet they replied buck. had said nothing to hopalong about pie's “o. k., only i ain't losin' no sleep about warning, and were debating in their minds hoppy. his gun's too lively fer me to do whether they should do so or not, when any worryin',” asserted red. hopalong interrupted their thoughts by “they'll get lynched some time, shore,” laughing. they looked up and he nodded declared buck. toward the front, where they saw that "not if they find hoppy,"grimly replied anxious eyes from all parts of the room red. were focused on the open door. then they they tore through santa fé, only stop noticed that it had been removed. the air ping long enough to wet their throats, and of semi-hostile, semi-anxious inquiry of the after several hours of hard riding entered patrons and the smile of satisfaction cov- alameda, where they found hopalong in ering the face of baum appealed to them the manner narrated. as the most ludicrous sight their eyes had after some time the three left the room seen for months, and they leaned back and and headed for albuquerque, twelve miles roared with laughter, thus calling forth to the south. at ten o'clock they dis- sundry looks of disapproval from the in- mounted before the nugget and rope, an nocent causers of their merriment. but unpainted wooden building supposed to be they were too well known in albuquerque a clever combination of barroom, dance to allow the disapproval to approach a seri- and gambling hall and hotel. the clever ous end, and finally, as the humorous side of ness lay in the man who could find the the situation dawned on the crowd, they hotel part. joined in the laugh and all went merrily. the proprietor of the nugget and rope, at the psychologic moment some one a german named baum, not being troubled shouted for a dance and the suggestion met with police rules, kept the door wide open with uproarious approval. at that mo- for the purpose of inviting trade, a pro ment harris, the sheriff, came in and vol- ceeding not to the liking of his patrons for unteered to supply the necessary music if obvious reasons. probably not one man the crowd would pay the fine against a in ten was fortunate enough to have no one straying fiddler he had corraled the day "looking for him," and the lighted interior before. a hat was quickly passed and a assured good hunting to any one in the dark sum was realized which would pay several street. he was continually opening the fines to come and harris departed for the door, which every newcomer promptly and music. forcibly slammed shut. when he saw men a chair was placed on the bar for the walk across the room for the express pur musician and, to the tune of "old dan pose of slamming it he began to cherish the tucker” and an assortment of similar airs, idea that there was a conspiracy on foot to the board floor shook and trembled. it anger him and thus force him to bring was a comical sight and hopalong, the only about his own death. after the door had wall-flower besides baum and the sheriff, bar range yarns laughed until he became weak. cow hopalong watched the couple until they punchers play as they work, hard and swung around and then he laughed silently. earnestly, and there was plenty of action. “buck's got too many feet,” he seriously sombreros flapped like huge wings and the remarked to his friend. baggy chaps looked like small, distorted "swing th' girl yu loves th' best!-he balloons. ain't lonesome, look at that the virginia reel was a marvel of supple, two shots rang out in quick succession exaggerated grace and the quadrille looked and harris stumbled, wheeled and pitched like a free-for-all for unbroken colts. the forward on his face as hopalong's som- honor of prompter was conferred upon the brero spun across his body. for a second sheriff, and he gravely called the changes there was an intense silence, heavy, strained as they were usually called in that section and sickening. then a roar broke forth of the country: and the crowd of frenzied merry-makers, headed by hopalong, poured out into the “oh, th’ ladies trail in an' th' gents trail out, street and spread out to search the town. an' all stampede down th' middle. as daylight dawned the searchers began if yu ain't got th’ tin to straggle back with the same report of yu can dance an’ shout, failure. buck and red met on the street but yu must keep up with th' fiddle." near the door and each looked questioningly as the dance waxed faster and the at the other. each shook his head and dancers grew hotter, hopalong, feeling looked around, their fingers toying absent- lonesome because he wouldn't face ridicule, 'mindedly at their belts. finally buck even if it was not expressed, went over cleared his throat and remarked casually, and stood by the sheriff. he and harris “mebby he's following 'em.” were good friends, for he had received the red nodded and they went over toward wound that crippled him in saving the sher their horses. as they were hesitating iff from assassination. harris killed the which route to take, billy jordan came up. man who had fired that shot, and from this “mebby yu'd like to see yore pardner- episode on the burning desert grew a friend he's out by buzzard's spring. we'll take ship that was as strong as their own care of him," jerking his thumb over his natures. shoulder toward the saloon where harris's harris was very well liked by the major- body lay. “and we'll all git th others ity and feared by the rest, for he was a later. they can't git away for long." “square" man and the best sheriff the buck and red nodded and headed for county had ever known. quiet and un buzzard's spring. as they neared the assuming, small of stature, and with a kind water hole they saw hopalong sitting on a word for every one, he was a universal rock, his head resting in one hand while the favorite among the better class of citizens. other hung loosely from his knee. he did quick as a flash and unerring in his shoot not notice them when they arrived, and ing, he was a nightmare to the "bad men.” with a ready tact they sat quietly on their no profane word had ever been known to horses and looked in every direction except leave his lips, and he was the possessor of toward him. the sun became a ball of a widespread reputation for generosity. molten fire and the sand flies annoyed them his face was naturally frank and open; incessantly, but still they sat and waited, but when his eyes narrowed with deter silent and apologetic. mination it became blank and cold. when hopalong finally arose, reached for his he saw his young friend sidle over to him sombrero, and, finding it gone, swore long he smiled and nodded a hearty welcome. and earnestly at the scene its loss brought “they's shore cuttin' her loose,” re before him. he walked over to his horse marked hopalong. and, leaping into the saddle, turned and “first two pairs forward an' back! faced his friends. "yu old sons-of-guns," they shore is,” responded the prompter. he said. they looked sheepish and nodded "who's th' gent playin' lady to buck?" negatively in answer to the look of inquiry queried hopalong. in his eyes. “they ain't got 'em yet,” "forward again an'ladies change! - remarked red slowly. hopalong straight- billy jordan." ened up, his eyes narrowed and his face the outing magazine became hard and resolute as he led the way but there was something in hopalong's back toward the town. eyes that made his flesh creep. “as ye buck rode up beside him and, wiping his sow, so shall ye reap.” face with his shirt sleeve, began to speak he glanced quickly past his foe and took to red. “we might look up th’ joneses, in the scene with one flash of his eyes. red. they had been dodgin' th’ sheriff there was the crowd, eager, expectant, purty lively lately, an' they was huntin' scowling. there were buck and red, each hopalong. ever since we had to kill their lounging against a bowlder, buck on his brother in buckskin they has been yappin' right, red on his left. before him stood as how they was goin' to wipe us out. the only man he had ever feared. hopa- hopalong an' harris was standin'clost long shifted his feet and thirsty, coming together an' they tried for both. they to himself with a start, smiled. his nerve shot twice, one for harris an' one for hop- had been shaken, but he was master of him- along, an' what more do yu want?” self once n:ore. “it shore looks thataway, buck," re- "well!" he snarled, scowling. plied red, biting into a huge plug of tobacco hopalong made no response, but stared which he produced from his chaps. "any- him in the eyes. how, they wouldn't be no loss if they didn't. thirsty expected action, and the deadly 'member what pie said?" quiet of his enemy oppressed him. he hopalong looked straight ahead, and stared in turn, but the insistent searching when he spoke the words sounded as though of his opponent's eyes scorched him and he had bitten them off: “yore right, buck, he shifted his gaze to hopalong's neck. but i gits first try at thirsty. he's my "well!” he repeated uneasily. meat an' i'll plug th’ fellow what says he “did yu have a nice time at th' dance ain't. damn him!” last night?" asked hopalong, still search- the others replied by applying their ing the face before him. spurs, and in a short time they dismount "was there a dance? i was over in ed before the nugget and rope. thirsty alameda,” replied thirsty shortly. wouldn't have a chance to not care how he "ya-as, there was a dance, an' yu can dealt the cards. shoot purty damn far if yu was in alame- buck and red moved quickly through da,” responded hopalong, his voice low the crowd, speaking fast and earnestly. and monotonous. when they returned to where they had left thirsty shifted his feet and glanced their friend they saw him half a block away around. buck and red were still lounging and they followed slowly, one on either against their bowlders and apparently were side of the street. there would be no not paying any attention to the proceed- bullets in his back if they knew what they ings. his fickle nerve came back again, were about, and they usually did. for he knew he would receive fair play. so as hopalong neared the corner, thirsty he faced hopalong once more and regarded and his two brothers turned it and saw him. him with a cynical smile. thirsty said something in a low voice, and "yu seems to worry a whole lot about the other two walked across the street and is it because yu has a tender feelin', disappeared behind the store. when as or because it's none of yore damn busi- sured that they were secure, thirsty walked ness?” he asked aggressively. up to a huge bowlder on the side of the hopalong paled with sudden anger, but street farthest from the store and turned controlled himself. and faced his enemy, who approached rap “it's because yu murdered harris," he idly until about five paces away, when he replied. slowed up and finally stopped. "shoo! an' how does yu figger it out?” for a number of seconds they sized each asked thirsty, jauntily. other up, hopalong quiet and deliberate "he was huntin' yu hard an' yu thought with a deadly hatred; thirsty pale and yu'd stop it, so yu came in to lay for him. furtive with a sensation hitherto unknown when yu saw me an' him together yu saw to him. it was right meeting wrong, and th' chance to wipe out another score. wrong lost confidence. often had thirsty that's how i figger it out,” replied hopa- jones looked death in the face and laughed, long quietly. me. bar range yarns "yore a reg'lar 'tective, ain't yu?" his hip, and when he fell he had a gun in thirsty asked ironically. each hand. “i've got common sense,” responded as he disappeared from sight goodeye hopalong and bill jones stepped from behind the “yu has? yu better tell th' rest that, store and started to run away. not able too,” replied thirsty. to resist the temptation to look again, they “i know yu shot harris, an' yu can't get stopped and turned and bill laughed. out of it by making funny remarks. any “easy as h–i,” he said. how, yu won't be much loss, an' th' stage “run, yu fool—red an' buck'll be here. company 'll feel better, too.” want to git plugged?" shouted goodeye, "shoo! an’ suppose i did shoot him, i angrily. done a good job, didn't i?" they turned and started for a group of "yu did th' worst job yu could do, yu ponies twenty yards away, and as they highway robber,” softly said hopalong, leaped into the saddles two shots were fired at the same time moving nearer. "harris and they crashed headlong to the ground, knew yu stopped th' stage last month, an' bill over the body of his brother. as the that's why yu've been dodgin' him." reports died away buck and red turned "yore a liar!" shouted thirsty, reaching the corner of the store, colts in hand, for his gun. and, checking their rush as they saw the the movement was fatal, for before he saddles emptied, they turned toward the could draw, the colt in hopalong's holster street and saw hopalong, with blood ooz- leaped out and flashed from its owner's hiping from an abrasion on his cheek, sitting and thirsty fell sideways, face down in the up cross-legged, with each hand holding dust of the street. a gun, from which came thin wisps of hopalong started toward the fallen man, smoke. but as he did so a shot rang out from be "th' son-of-a-gun!" said buck, proud hind the store and he pitched forward, and delighted stumbled and rolled behind the bowlder. "th' son-of-a-gun!" echoed red, grin- as he stumbled his left hand streaked to ning. a stern stern chase bruin sets the pace by maximilian foster painting by philip goodwin eyond the wing island-like from a flat of cedar swamp and of ridges that flank moraine, a weeping tangle of bog land set bald mountain about the heights and drowned under by in the north, west every drench of rain. if bruin kept to the b. ward swung the high ground, all well and good to our pur- trail. by quirk pose; we might trail him in this open coun- and turn, hunting try. but once he slid wallowing among the patiently all the lowlands, cruising by the brakes and quag- sinks and wind mire, we would have no chance but to swim falls in that for it, or go and whistle for our pains. broken land, the way kept onward; and "well?" asked henry, quizzically; and through the tangle went the pair of us, when i nodded, grinned. “on we go, spurred on by the call of hope. then," he cried, hitching the pack to his underfoot, the spring's last flaw of snows shoulders; "on we go an' the divvil take had spread the woods with slush; and the the hintmost!” trees, overburdened, slipped their loads making no choice of the way, he plunged at a touch and drowned us in the down on down the slope, going like a cat for si- pour. but who in the heat of it-agog, lence, but setting a wearying pace. around as we were, with expectancy-would stop us the forest walls closed in; the long to reckon discomfort? draining water aisles of hardwood gave over to matted like two nixies in a brook, we tore our tangles of bush, and a runnel that had way through the copses, going at a clink come boiling down its channel of anchor- ing gait, for our friend, black bruin, had ice dipped suddenly, and in quick silence left his den beyond, hunting the thickets drained away into a seeping pool among for food, and wild in the quest for it. the alders. splashing through the flood, to-day he might be there, or to- morrow we toiled to the long heights above; and gone; it was a time for haste and we there, spread out brown and drear, lay the hurried. rolling panorama of treetops that cloaked once henry stopped and leaned his rifle a forbidding land. far behind us lay the against a tree. “fine walkin', this!" he mountain we had left, and beside that mumbled, easing the strips of his pack. nictau and the roaring tobique. clouds "have ye had fill of it?” for this, as hid the rocky peak; but while we watched, he said, would be but the beginnings of it. a sudden gust smote the sailing vapor, and “ye'll mind what's yon!” he cautioned. through the rift one wet gleam of sunshine admonition waved a warning finger; we poured down upon the crags, flooding the knew the place of old. a year before we pinnacle with light. its slides, laid with had wounded a moose that fled into the snow, glared blue-white and dazzling; be- dense covers for sanctuary, and time had low, a fringe of gloomy conifers shrouded not weaned us of the memory. the place it-and lifted their tall spires toward the -far and near as we knew it—was a man sky. again came the wind, and the clouds, trap of the wilderness, hill upon hill rising herding like a sheep flock, poured against yer a stern chase c the rocky slopes, dropping a gray wall of it along the woods. goading his famine blankness to hide it from our view. with the scent, he charged about, pawing we went along. by hill and hill we won over the litter; and when the hunger-lust our way through the tumbling country; drove him onward, he nosed along the and there, on the edge of a rolling mound, covers like a stoat, sniffing every cranny henry stopped and peered through the as he passed. nothing escaped him; even matted tangle at our right. below us was the last mouse streaking it from the win- another little stream, clinking its way along ter's ruined tenement was tracked out the rocks, and beyond that a second hill, patiently from its hiding; for there on the a wide slope dressed with cedar scrub and trampled snow we saw all the story of this rank, upstanding files of hemlock. “it's foray broadly printed-destruction stalk- yon!” he whispered, pointing cautiously; ing on its way. “there'll be the tastey that holds him; “god!" cried henry, staring at the ruin; and by the way of him, i'll mind he comes "he'll fairly slobber wi' the pain of it!" this way agin!” leaning his pack against he stood up, then, from his scrutiny, and a tree, he eased the heavy burden on cast an eye warily about the bush. “he'll his shoulders, looked sharply along the have gone straight on,” he said, waving a hollow, and beckoned me to push on. at hand toward the south; "straight on to a tiptoe, fairly, we crept the forest then, fillin' meal. round that hill, yon, is the conning every thicket as we passed, know leavin's of a dead caribou-mostly bones, ing that who hopes to see bruin first but a pickin' enough to holt him. he'll must see sharply, and going like shadows be back to it, i mind!” through the woods. we picked up the track and followed. "wait!" said henry, turning swiftly to “aye-look at him!” cried henry, pointing one side. “look!” he whispered beneath to a new work of ruin on the snow. but his breath; "there 'll be the works of him going on a rod or two i saw him halt when he first turned loose in his hungri- abruptly, toe up the ground with his larri- ness!” kin, and stand there, a look of wonder in his stamped on the snow-old but still cut eye. “what's this, now?” he cried, look- vividly-were the pad-marks of our friend, ing back to me. zigzagging the bush. “aye—the bigness marking the slush was a new string of of it!" cried henry, grinning with eager- foot-prints coming up out of the hollow be- ness, and pointing to the sign. “aye—i low, a track of moccasins, turning abruptly told you true!” as they came to the bear's, and then taking together, like crusoe spying on his canni on a ways. henry studied them in bewil- bal track, we leaned down and hand-spaced derment. “see!” he cried, sticking his the length and breadth of it. for, taking for, taking own foot into the mark; "it 'll not be foot the measure from the snow, this was no of mine! some one will have been along puny weakling of last year's litter, but a here yester noon!” matchless big one, a royalty swaggering the newcomer had kept to bruin's track among the clans, gaining in bigness as time but a rod or two; and then turning abrupt- had brought him age and wisdom. ly, swung off at a stride over the crest of he had come up out of the thickets be the height. henry, following, spied on the low wild in his quest for food. once a footprints, one by one, going a piece into rotting stump had tempted him—with fly- the bush; and then came swiftly back, all ing claws he rent it to the butt, hunting ruffled by his finding. "'twill be that remorselessly for that one poor mouthful slinkin' poacher good!” he cried, tossing to reward him; and there on the snow a up a hand; “him yon from the tobique. dot of bloody slaver marked the final cur they'll say he come up this ways a fort- tain to another small tragedy of the wild. night agone!" there he had gone wallowing on all fours, “good—not much in a name, henry!” smashing at the leaping, terror-stricken and henry shook his head sourly. aye mite of fur till he had it crunched in his -not much; the fellow had been that way, slavering jaws; and roused by this taste too, a year gone by, filling all the bush of food, he had gone back to rag out the with his devilments. not only had he laid wrecked fabric of the mouse-nest and strew snares for everything of fur from bear to the outing magazine marten—which was lawful enough, of in from the nearest thicket and rooted course—but had set dead-falls in a dozen among the bones. “aye, he'll be back!” passing places of the moose and caribou, said henry in a whisper, “he's been back, using their meat to bait his stinking traps. and once agin he'll come. henry scowled at the remembrance. one havoc had been made of the carcass. that he found had already done its work the skull was gone, and along with that a a cow-moose lay under the fallen beam, greater part of the heavy bones, but there its back broken, and the ground about it still remained enough of it, as henry said, mute evidence of the agony of this igno to draw him back again. "he'll not be minious death. “paugh!" snapped henry, far!” he whispered, the light of excitement in disgust: “i took a day, on the sight of in his eye; “we'll but take a sweep through that, followin' the blaggard's line; and the bush, now, and make sure of it!" he'll take no good of me for the wreckin' i so leaving this grisly relic undisturbed made of the works he'd set up in the bush!” we bore off to leeward again, and with a grunting in disdain, he waved the way wide swing circled the dense tangles lying along. good, no doubt, would return under the height. a mile beyond, there shortly to lay a trap for bruin; and so, for were good's footprints dotting the snow all our toil, the hunt seemed ended, almost anew, but as they pushed away from the before it was begun. “unless,” said hen high ground where lay the caribou bones ry, speaking his thought, "unless we hang henry passed along. rounding out the to our tommy bear, an' take chance of circle, we returned to our own tracks of the lickin' a bullet into his hide afore he sees morning, and in that distance found no us an’ flits!” sign of bear. henry grinned with glee. but how long must we trail for a sight “he'll lie in yon,” he cried, waving a hand of him? henry hunched his shoulders in toward the broad basin we had edged. . apt expression of doubt. "no tellin's," “by dusk he'll be movin' agin, and if i he answered, after a pause, “or not at all. have the rights of it, we'll nab him back at it's only but a piece of the luck.” as he his feast some time by the dusk.” said, our best chance had been to pick up between us we talked it over. we bruin nosing about the caribou bones, but would hunt a night chance, said henry, for now this good, knocking among the covers, night was not so far away, and when we had found the works, and would make had laid a camp, go back and wait in the haste to head off the brute with his traps. dusk for bruin. that seemed good enough yet henry was slow to defeat. “come,” —there would be need of warmth and com- he said, grinning anew, "there 'll maybe fort after this day's drenching and weari- chances yet. we'll just but take a look at so we pushed back toward the place the carcass, yant!” of bruin's feast, and drifting down a blind in that long flat beyond the sea of ridges gully, hunted the choicest spot to camp. one piece of woods looked for all the world before long we found it, too—a running like any other piece, but the way was clear brook, a tall rock to hold the fire's heat, to henry. he fixed his gait at starting, dry wood in a neighboring windfall, and a climbed to leeward above the trail, and small hollow where the raw north wind slashing through the cover, we picked up should not hunt us out. that dot in the wilderness-or henry did already the sun had dipped toward the without a check to halt him. edges of the trees, and a duskiness began proaching nearer, the finding made itself to gather in the basins of the hills. "not an easy mark; a gust of wind drifting up so bad, hey?" ventured henry, unlimbering the hill brought us its token. there lay the axe at his belt. “i've seen worse, our goal, an unspeakable vender, crying its many's" wares loudly, but large in its appeal to such the words broke off short. i saw him wayfaring kin of the forest as the gaunt start, his nostrils thinning crisply, and starveling we tracked. “ugh!" muttered lowering the axe, turn his head slowly henry, wrinkling his face. toward the hill. our friend had come that way again. "hark-d'ye hear that!” he cried sharply. but he had gone, too. henry and i, steal "listen!” ing close, found the tracks where he came already i had heard it, and stood there ness. but ap- وز pilipr.goodwin painting by philip r. goodwin. "again he reared, a thing bestial and fearful." • it a stern chase wondering. the wind, drifting away to its dropping to a log, i tried to hear again, and night rest, had died among the trees, and a held my breath till my lungs burned. deep silence hung over the forest wild. “s !” hissed henry, “will ye hear him then came that sound anew-acry low and now!” mournful, raised like a far-off shout of dis close under the hill arose that bawl of tress, coming through the distance in rage and pain again-after that came a whisper, but speaking loudly its miseries. crashing in the bush-a clang of metal "jump alive!” screamed henry, snatching on the rocks-and silence. henry leaned up his axe, “come on -- it's him! he'll ha' toward me, his eyes glittering. “he'll be stuck his paws into trouble!” hard workin' away at it!” he whispered, su good, it seemed, had got there before, and beckoned me to rise. “he's but close and if we had but stuck to the man's tracks to that ragged beech, yon-the one with that day, we had found it. henry took the rock at the butt of it. go slow!” the brook at a single jump, floundering then-so close that the echoes of it perilously on the shore ice, and with me shuddered in our ears—he uttered his re- tumbling along at his heels, rushed the sentment and distressed alarm. the cry height like a deer. that camp-chance be left him pitched coarse and menacing, a hind us we never saw again. the first spurt bestial threatening of his fury; yet at the took us to the crest, and turning with a end of it was a small human whimper, a shout to urge me faster, he plunged on, little tremolo of fear, perhaps, or at least of helter-skelter, the speed of the wind in his uncertainty. breasting a way through the legs. shield of thickets, we had come so close that "henry — henry!” i yelled to him, we could hear the long sobbing breaths he “slow down!” drew as he wrestled with the devilment of the pace was killing; he turned, waited steel. again it clanged as he struck it till i ranged alongside, and took to his heels against a tree-a coughing, half-uttered again. there was no stopping him a while, growl broke from him, and in the stillness i saw, so i clenched my teeth together, that came after it we heard his fangs go held on, and ran like a sprinter with his crunching in a shocking rage against the eyes on the tape ahead. once he tripped hardened metal. once more he bawled- on a twig sunken in the snow, sprawled then we saw him. headlong, and while he was gathering him thrusting aside the bush, he rolled out self together i caught up and passed him. into the open, a mountebank of fur, clown- but my lead was soon undone; he came like in his movements, and terrible! blood up behind me like a whirlwind, yelled again streaked his slavering jaws where he had to drive me on, and together we went down bitten at the trap, and his little eyes, set those long stretches of open woods, racing deeply like a pig's, glimmered evilly. as with all the good there was in us. he trod forward, limping, the clog, dragging again we heard that voice of anger and on its chain, clinched against the roots of dismay, whimpering and distressful, and the beech tree, and halted him with a jerk. at the sound we halted in our tracks, lis we saw the trap had him by the wrist- tened and plowed on again. “over the he stretched out his foreleg as the chain hill, yon!" gasped henry under his breath, snatched back on him, and again--clown- and waved a hand toward it. i nodded; like-the hulking shape of fur sat down it was no time for words. zigzagging and tried to yank it free. but the strength among a set of windfalls he stopped sud of it—this or his own keen agony was too denly, and crouching peered once swiftly much. he bundled forward on three legs, along the forest floor. “bustle up!” he freed the clog, and then, like a fiend in his urged again, and after another short burst passion, stood up hugging the trap to his held up a warning hand. breast and struck the tree, again and again, just beyond was a long level stretching baresark in his the top of the hill. "listen!” warned once i had seen a caribou with a flap of henry, tilting his head, his ear cocked side- hide hanging at its shoulder, and wondered ways. “d'ye hear?” what had done it. this told me. under i listened, but heard nothing save the those strokes of his the bark flew like drowning roar of blood surging in my ears. missiles, and every blow scored through to rage. the outing magazine we lay the wood beneath. but this sudden flight i heard him cry, waving his hand toward of passions ended as swiftly as it came; the south. there beside the trail lay the he dropped back and whimpering anew, trap, its jaws grimly clinched and in their mawed over the griping steel. poor clown! grip a few rags of fur that spoke the tale all his craft, his wit and cunning, come to in a word. gone! the great brute had an end like this! there was his long-played wrought liberty for himself by strength of comedy turned at one quick stroke into the terror where rage and pain had failed him tragedy of the trapped thing! but who -terror, the greatest passion of all! look- thinks of the pity of it—who remembers ing forward, i saw henry leap aside; he when the hot lust of killing sweeps back- stooped to peer among the trees and his ward at a leap to the unlost instincts of rifle jumped to his shoulder. once more primality? yet there could be no sport in the silent woods thundered full of sound; this killing-only a needful brutality to put there was henry running on, and night the poor trapped thing out of its agony. i already was closing down upon us. there wished, i know, that in the killing poor were no regrets now to lend us their delay. bruin matched it more on even terms bruin matched us fairly even, and i fol- that he stood a better chance for it. lowed onward, exulting. but the murder was spared us. i picked up henry on the hilltop where there a moment, quietly, henry watching he stood looking off toward the south. with a slow doubt in his eyes. “it's the “he's gone away!” he cried with a grin, waste of a bullet,” he muttered, shaking wiping the sweat from his brow, “and his head, “and a mean way to slaughter 'twill be the divvil a hunt to catch him. the brute. now- but i touched him the last shot. will ye it must have been henry's uncautious look at that!” movement that he saw-he reared, snarling he pointed to the ground beside him, till the broken tushes showed, and with the and i saw, soon enough, that bruin had trap dangling before him, stood there, been singed. like bulletins of the fact, searching out these creatures that had there on the snow were the marks of it- brought him torment. but fear, coming a little splash of blood-another—then a then, swept down all the courage of his chain of dots. there was no telling how rage, and with a turn so swift that it was deep the lead had bitten-but not too deep, like the flitting of a shadow through the we saw soon enough. there was haste and leaves, he rolled back into the bushes and power yet in the length of strides that was gone! showed there on the snow, and henry "hoh!" roared henry, snatching up his grinned as he regarded them. rifle. “well,” he said, still grinning, “there 'll all the forest roared upon the sound of be no slaughterin' him yon so easy as i that bullet driven into the thicket's depth. thought. aye, but they're slimpsy! did rising from the silence, echo filled the ye note the quickness of him?" woods with busy sound; hill after hill took resting his pack against a tree, he up the clattering detonation, but after that shrugged his shoulders into the straps, and came a long-drawn stillness as if the soli bent down to examine the track anew. tude, awed, stood listening. the bullet had “well, one time's as good as another,” gone astray; down the hill a crash of he cried glibly; "we'll just follow on a breaking twigs aroused us, and with his while. hebbe he'll stop to lick his paw. rifle swung before him henry raced away, if ye’re fair to stay along with him, we'll smashing through the woods and following have that fellow yet!" hot upon the passing trail. my choice was so we picked up the trail and followed. left me-| might stand there the night taking the easy way, the tracks swooped through, gazing blankly at that dead wall downward to the hollow, changed gait from of bushes, the gateway of the flitting a gallop to a waddle and kept on to the quarry; or, on the other hand, pursue the southward till the hills pinched in and trail for company. i ran, taking up the blocked the level going. then he climbed. track and pumping onward, and there at elbow to elbow stood the heights, cut by the foot of the slope was henry, once more knife-like gullies, and sliding-slipping- urging onward with his shout. “gone!" crawling, we dragged our way to the crests, a stern chase drew breath again, and coasted to the and heaving laboriously about, she crashed depths beneath. at every stride there away into the wood and was gone. seemed a chance to jump him, but good once more, with the rising sun, the forest and bad alike, the cripple had the best of carpet turned itself to slush, and the trees it-night closed in around us, and there dripped, each a weeping, penitential sister. was bruin somewhere in the middle dis- every thicket that we crossed drenched us tance and ambling swiftly along. anew with its moisture, and our way along we camped, foot-sore and drenched, and the slopes became the unsteady gait of the that night it froze and clad the forest with carouser. but still slipping-sliding-fall- a mail of ice. the wind, piping out of the ing, we kept to that heart-breaking toil; north, keened through the trees and hunted noon came to cheer us with a rest and the out our place of rest, and through all the boiling kettle of tea, and an hour beyond long hours we huddled beside the fire, that we picked up the first new sign to keep clinching each other for warmth and with our flagging hopes. an odd cat nap now and then to pass the he had stopped to mumble at his hurts. time away. long before the dawn we we saw where he had turned in the snow, were up and ready, and when the first light and squatting like a man, tended as best came to show the way, we settled on the he could the grievous injuries done him. track, primed to follow its trail to an end. farther along he had stretched his gaunt but how far that trail was to lead only shape for a rest; from this he had risen chance could tell. there was a time when stiffly, and walking down the glade, nosed at we camped like this on the wanderings of a hollow log. it lay there, half upset, as if a bull moose-four days he shacked along, he had tempted his strength again in hun- and then turned at bay. but bruin, like ger. the mice, huddled within, would never enough, as henry said, might learn that know the providence that had saved them. we followed, and match craft with craft, “go slow!” warned henry, picking his playing along before us just out of reach, way craftily among the trees; "he'll not be keeping a thicket or two between us, and so far along now.” so fill out the game till we wearied of it or but bruin still had some weary miles of lost his trail in the melting snows. that going left him, and the way was growing was it-and grimly enough henry counted worse. i think that with the last instinct up the chances. then, on the other hand, of the wounded thing he was hunting some the bear's wound might stiffen, and haul clogging tangle where the dimmed light him, willy-nilly, to a standstill. in the and the stillness would ease his growing half-gloom of the awakening forest we fever, for saw before long that he wan- slipped and slid along the icy hills, always dered; the way no longer kept its line, but hoping for a glimpse of him, and keeping went turning to the right and left, worm- to those molded footprints on the crust. ing through the heart of every maze that hours passed, and still we pressed the blocked this forest depth, and leaving no chase; the next copse might hold him, or corner unsearched. any windfall that strewed its wreck on the "not for long, now," whispered henry, ground. and once we thought we had him! his eyes a-gleaming. "he will hunt a a crash warned us. the long hunt, the place to lie.” weary searching through the miles of forest but somehow he found no place to his tangle, the silence all this had keened our liking. one hole after another bruin tried nerves to the breaking point, and we leaped in its turn-nothing suited, and leaving it together, our rifles thrust forward in readi- all behind him, he took to his march again. ness, waiting to flush the game. climbing the ridge, he followed the long lowered the barrels again, sighing as we spines of upland a while—then he dipped caught our breaths, and out into the open suddenly to the swamps and tracked for shambled a ragged moose cow, the hair the heart of the moraine. ragged on her flanks, and round with the "well,” said henry, pausing and wiping young she was about to drop. for awhile the sweat from his face, “yon's a blitherin' she calmly eyed the two silent figures swamp, and you'll not lay the choice agin before her; then some shift of the wind me. but on we go—we'll snatch him yet þrought the taint to her wrinkling muffle, if we've only a bit of the luck!” the outing magazine one bog after another stretched before he had turned about-face, and was com- us-not the open barrens of the caribou, ing straight toward us. “let him come,' but a range of soggy tree land cut by bogans whispered henry, gripping me by the arm, reaching here and there out of some stream and together we slipped the barrels for- unseen beyond us. hummocks sprung ward, straining our eyes to clear him from with files of stunted cedar set close like the shadows around. once more the air an army criss-crossed the way, and their roared in my head as i held in breath, and branches, like bayonets, too, prodded and my eyes, dimmed with searching him out, stabbed as we fought a path through the swam weakly and lost him again and again. tangle. there, too, were the hollows lining then he paused beside the brook, his the flat-holes where the water rose to our maimed forepaw stretched forward like a knees, or, still worse, were skimmed with puppy's, and bending slowly, lapped at the rotting ice. there bruin had the best of oily current. but the pang of the cold it-some sense helped him to pick out the water-this or the movement stung his easy course, and going on all fours, briskly, wound, and he stood back, weaving slowly, he carried a trail through sinks where we throwing his head from side to side, and could scarcely follow. once we tried, and limping up the bank, came onward to were brought up standing. after that, we that doom awaiting him there in the twi- shrunk aside from these strangling traps, light. and skirting their edges, picked up the poor brute-even the slayer might find tracks beyond. nor could we push along some heart of pity for his plight. this was as swiftly as before--the next thicket might the answer, though, to all his striving- be holding him, and our only chance to take half-iniquitous, destructive, mischievous, him was to come on him unawares. but but the remainder the rollicking of a clown. the night was close at hand—this in itself nature writes her dramas fitly enough- spurred us on uneasily, and whether to a little comedy ranged to aid the action of keep the trail till darkness, or leave it and the piece, but all the trend of it bending strike for a camp-chance in the high lands toward that self-same end, tragedy. was a thing to be decided quickly. but “whoof!” he reared upright, half sus- the answer came of itself-swerving sud- pecting the danger at hand; and all human denly again the trail pitched away to the now in the pose he struck, looked squarely right, and there, a mile beyond, lay the at us. his short forelegs were outstretched first ridges of the rising ground. we could before him, the paws dangling from the follow yet a while, and going swifter, as the wrists limply and inert. gaunt and men- bush spread open, we hurried along, the acing, he fronted toward the peril. a little dusk drawing down to meet us. gust, wheeling down the slope, swirled in over beyond the first hill a copse of the hollow, and blew the taint toward him. alders filled all the hollow of the gully, and we saw him, then, throw back his head, through its heart drained a little stream. peering-trying the air anew with his quiet ruled that small pocket in the woods wrinkled nose and then, all at once, he -even the stream ran silently, and only sensed the peril that faced him. the drip-drip of water among the hillside fear-like a blight-struck upon his rocks broke the cloistered stillness. there heart. he dropped forward on all fours, we saw him, coming on. and lumbering and uncouth, darted toward he had quit the swamps beyond, worn the cover; yet despite its clumsiness, there by the struggle in their depths, and in fretful was no lagging in that sudden burst of disquiet smashed a way brutally through speed. fear had him in its clutches; he the screen of undergrowth. we heard him fled, wild with a taste of the reeking air. first, a crash of twigs sounding the loud but all the darkening forest crashed with alert-the alders swayed as if a storm beat repeating thunders. echo trailed to echo, among them, their tops lashing in the air a chaos of sound. once he gripped his side like whips. a long and open intervale madly where the murdering lead had stung stretched beyond this low ground; twilight him—again he reared, a thing bestial and had come, and as he pitched forward into fearful, writhing on his straining haunches, the clear, we made him out, like a shadow, and striking forward, fell there a-huddle, standing against the dusky lattice of twigs his journeying done forever. the builders iii.-steam and sail on the pacific by ralph d. paine photographs by the author t own. she steam-schooner, a vessel whose geration, but it may serve to hint that the build and habits are peculiar to commerce of the pacific has ways of its the pacific, often goes to sea “with until recently another distinctive her load-line over her hatch.” which feature of this shipping was that there means, that after her hold has been seemed so very little of it for so vastly crammed with cargo, a deck-load of lum much water. six years ago i crossed the ber is piled half way up the masts, so that pacific, bound out of san francisco for her skipper puts out with the water wash china. the stars and stripes had been ing green over his main deck, and an oc in the philippines for two years, and casional comber frisking across his bat much big talk was stirring about “ameri- tened hatches. can expansion” toward the orient. but along the harbor front of seattle runs even then such dreams had no more than the story of a passenger who loped down begun to materialize. to the wharf in a hurry to get aboard a de that expanse of ocean seemed as empty parting steam-schooner. he balanced him of shipping as when sir francis drake self on the stringpiece for an instant, looked crossed it in chase of the galleons of spain, down at what little he could see of the three centuries ago. we steamed three laden craft, and hove his grip-sack down weeks without sighting sail or smoke. our the only opening in sight. he was about to vessel was the rio janeiro, an ancient iron dive after it when a lounger on the wharf kettle which would have been rated as shouted: hardly fast enough or stanch enough for “hi, there! where do you think you're the coastwise passenger trade between new jumpin' to? that's the smoke-stack you york and florida. a few months later tossed your baggage down.” she struck a rock in san francisco harbor, "hell !" gasped the passenger, “i thought crumpled up like an old hat, and carried it was the hatch." nearly two hundred souls to the bottom the yarn has a slight flavor of exag in twenty minutes. the outing magazine at that time, however, she was con- sidered good enough to be called a “pa- cific liner,” along with such other nautical relics as the old city of peking and the peru. the pacific mail had one first- class ship in commission, the china. an allied company operated three white star boats which in course of time had been found too small and slow for the atlantic passenger service. it had been left to the japanese to fly their flag over three fine new steamers of medium size and yacht- like smartness that plied out of san fran- cisco, and from seattle the same hustling orientals had put on a regular service in connection with the great northern rail- way. revisiting the western coast last autumn, i found the signs of a swift and inspiring growth which may be glimpsed in these bristling figures: in the total tonnage of american steam vessels engaged in the pacific ocean was , ; in it had increased to , , by which time more vessels in foreign trade were owned in washington than in any other state of the union. from seattle now sail the magnificent steamers minnesota and dakota, built for james j. hill, which would loom as giants on the swarming atlantic, and from san francisco steams the new fleet of majestic liners of the korea and manchuria class, created by the pacific mail. out of ta- coma voyage westward the new ships of the boston steamship company; the china mutual navigation compary has invaded the field with a monthly line from puget sound to liverpool and glasgow, via ori- ental ports, and the germans are build- ing up a new service out of portland. be- sides these regular lines, unattached freight- ers under steam and sail are hurrying to and from these ports in greater fleets each year. far to the southward the breakwa- ter at san pedro stretches out a mighty arm to shelter the coming squadrons of commerce. new ships are building to meet new dema ds, and yet with almost every voyage the liners leave behind them waiting cargoes fo: which they have no space, whose bulk is measured by hun- dreds of car loads. in the first half of last year ten ships were filled with freight left behind by steamers out of seattle and tacoma. compared with what it is to be, how- ever, this traffic, like the new empire of the coast it serves, is a lusty infant able to sit up and kick. the pacific is even now an ocean the richness of whose argosies will be revealed to future generations and other centuries. this was one of the im- pressions gleaned from the tossing deck of a san francisco pilot schooner cruising to seaward of the oldest and most popu- lous port of the long pacific coast. i re- called the stately columns of ocean craft that daily move past sandy hook, home- ward bound and outward bound, their signal bunting fluttering the names of ports in all the seven seas, and how on “steamer” days the liners file out through the narrows, crowding at each other's agile heels, or flock in from the atlantic, by day and night, like express trains on a crowded schedule. the pilot schooner gracie s., off the gold- en gate, was not compelled to dodge any such traffic as this. she might reach out to the farallones and back to the light- ship, or reel hove to on the deep-bosomed pacific swell for two or three days on end without once trimming sail to meet an incoming vessel from “blue water." this pilot service differs from that of atlantic ports in that no apprentices are trained to take the places of their elders. the men that cruise off the golden gate are chosen from among the veteran ship- masters who have commanded big vessels, under steam and sail, in many waters of the world. therefore they know not only the harbors of their own coast but also the ways of ships and the sea at large. to cruise with a crew of these pilots was to gain a more vivid acquaintance with the shipping of the pacific than could be picked up in browsing along water fronts and jug- gling with tonnage statistics. for it is one thing to read in the ship- ping gazette that "the american ship wanderer, a hundred and thirty days from new york, was reported yesterday," and quite another to have seen her backing her main yard for a pilot outside the golden gate. first, her royals lifted from the empty sea like a gleaming fleck of cloud. then one by one her fore yards climbed into view until, when the snowy fabric tow red clear of the horizon, she was a picture of surpassing beauty that stirred the builders the imagination to recall a vanishing story sam sitting carelessly, with his legs dang- of one kind of commerce on the pacific ling from the dock, smoking his pipe, with whose climax was reached nearly half a his cargo sold and his pockets full of money. century ago. the flag of the united states was a flower the sails of the wanderer were patched that adorned every port." in many places, but the lines of her wooden there is no oratorical exaggeration in hull were of more graceful mold than can this briny eulogy. for example, the log be found in the cargo carriers of to-day. of the medium clipper florence, one one of the last of the american sailing thousand tons, records that in a voyage ships, the wanderer belonged with the from shanghai to england, in , when past, just as the great pacific liner and the seventeen days out, she exchanged sig- wallowing, wall-sided tramp foreshadow nals with the english ship john master- the commercial expansion of the future. man, which had sailed thirteen days before the time was when the cape horn clippers her. and packets swept through the golden the shining prestige of those times was gate in such noble fleets as have never due to the yankee skipper as well as the since sailed under the american flag. at yankee hull. they carried sail and held the height of the gold excitement of the on to their spars when foreign ships were fifties, the harbor of san francisco held reefed down snug. it was this same flor- more shipping than have ever the ports ence clipper that “passed two barks under of liverpool or new york. the present reefed courses and close-reefed topsails generation is apt to fancy that creating a standing the same way—we with royals commerce on the pacific is a new thing, and topgallant studding sails." for it is easy to forget that it was the pa list, ye landsmen, also, to an incident cific trade which for many years pushed the in the career of the immortal sovereign of stars and stripes to the front of the mer the seas. built by the famous donald chant marine of the world, a prestige lost mckay, and sailed by his gallant broth- so long ago that even its memories are er lauchlan, she left new york for san fading. francisco in august, . off valpa- where one lonely wanderer signals for a raiso she was almost wholly dismasted in pilot, a score of hard-driven yankee clip a storm carrying away everything on the pers once surged in from over seas. now fore and mainmasts above the lower mast- when british and german ships are carry heads. in two weeks captain lauchlan ing the wheat and the lumber and the mckay had fitted out his crippled vessel manufactured products of america across with so marvelous a jury rig that she every ocean, it sounds like fairy tale to reached san francisco in one hundred and read of american fleets which have never two days from new york, which was re- been excelled for speed, power and beauty; corded as “the best passage ever made for of the clipper flying cloud, which in a the season.” fair, strong breeze could run away from mostly under foreign flags, the square the steam liners of her time, of the sov rigger still plies the pacific, no longer clip- ereign of the seas, the flying fish, the per built, but a bluff-bowed, clumsy, full- phantom, the shooting star, the westward waisted tank jammed full of cargo, with ho and the bald eagle, all peerless in their small thought of speed. as for the famous day. yankee sea-skimmers, a few of them may they belonged with the time when cali be found cut down to melancholy hulks fornia, australia and oregon were first and doing duty as barges towing up and opening to trade. “the merchant who down the pacific coast, or with spread of could get the fastest ship had the market spars sadly reduced, tumbling sluggishly for the fruits of the mediterranean, for the with the salmon and grain fleets, like worn- rugs of smyrna, for the silks of india and out thoroughbreds impressed as cart- the teas of china, and supplied the new horses. states of which the anglo-saxon race was but even the cheaply built and cheaply then laying the foundations. when john manned steel sailing ships of the foreigner bull came floating into san francisco or must struggle to compete with the big- sydney or melbourne he used to find uncle bellied tramp steamer. the solitary wan- the outing magazine derer was not alone in her depart- ing glory. she was luckier than many of her sisters. as our pilot schooner tacked past sausalito out- ward bound, there lifted into view a fleet of a dozen rusting sailing ships tucked away in a pocket of the harbor. they had been laid up in costly idleness, some of them for two and three years waiting for charters. said pilot "jimmy' hayes: “i've seen twenty of those deep- water ships laying over there at one time, eating their heads off year after year until you'd think their plates would rust through. a while ago i took one of them to sea, a german bark, that had been waiting two years to get a charter. the skipper had tarried so long that he had sent out to germany and fetched his old one of the halibut feet of seattle, which fishes in alaskan waters. mother to 'frisco to keep him company. he told me his hard-luck telling me how near broke he was and story: how at last he had got a grain how much he had at stake, and persuaded charter out of portland and had drawn me to let him down easy on his pilotage eleven thousand dollars from home, all charges. he was between the devil and he had in the world, to refit his vessel the deep sea, that dutchman, and there are for sea. he worked on my sympathies, lots more like him, only they don't bring a steam-schooner, deep laden, bound into san francisco from the north. the builders - for manila. while the east has almost forgotten that troops still say farewell to mothers and sweethearts and wives at the transport docks, and sail away to years of exile in the islands of the orient, the pacific coast still thrills to these stirring episodes, "i was commander of the steamer st. paul while she was a transport on the philippine run," said captain hayes, and i'll swear i feel the prickles up and down my back to this day when i see one of those vessels leaving harbor with a regiment of soldiers crowding along her rail, and the band playing, and the old ſlag snapping in the wind. i got my first thrill at manila. i had a tennessee regiment of volunteers on board, homeward a pacific pilot schooner cruising off the golden gate. bound, at the time when there was a lot of fighting in the isl- their old mothers along to make us feel ands. we steamed out past the olympia, sorry for them.” as close as i dared shove my ship. the awakening a different kind of sentiment band on the flagship was playing the 'star was the sight of an army transport signal- spangled banner,' and every blue-jacket ing farewell to the station at the golden stood at attention with his cap in his hand. gate as she straightened out on her course the thousand infantrymen on my vessel an american bark from around the horn, signaling her arrival off the golden gate. the outing magazine let out a yell you could have heard in manila. "admiral dewey was standing on the quarter-deck, and he bowed, of course. but just then the flagship band swung into ‘dixie,' and our band took it up, and they played it together, and, good lord, if you ever heard men really yell, it was those thousand lads from tennessee! the ad- miral threw his cap as high as he could toss it, and didn't give a hang whether it came down on deck or over side. and that's the way we left the philippines. “why, i got a lump in my throat the other day when i happened to be down on the dock to see a transport start from 'frisco. a regular regiment was outward bound, and the dock was jammed with folks come down to say good-by. half the town was there, as if it was something new to see a transport pull out. there were cheers and tears, and just as the vessel swung clear of the dock the band led off, and a thousand men in khaki sung all to- get her, 'good-by, little girl, good-by.'" they say sailors are kind of sloppy weather when it comes to sentiment, but it did beat going to hear an opera just to hear those boys sing “good-by, little girl, good-by." while the gracie s. was cruising off the golden gate, there was much time for yarning of ships and sailors. when the wind rose and the green rollers put on their bonnets of foam, a reef was tucked in the mainsail of the stanch schooner, her jib hauled to windward, and she lay to with no more attention from her crew. then in the little cock-pit, whose rail was a shelter against the spray that stormed from for- ward, or down in the roomy cabin, the pilots three smoked and talked and waited (with the large patience that belongs to sailors and fishermen and prospectors) for the summons of the watch on deck to “board off” when a vessel should be sighted. there were always shifting backgrounds in harmony with the random chat that seldom veered from salty topics. sleek and dog-like seals poked their heads from the lazy swells alongside, and stared curi- ously before they ducked under again. the brown and white gulls that nest on the rocky farallones hovered astern almost within arms' reach, or swam close to the schooner's counter while they waited for the cook to come on deck with a pan of scraps. pilots and seamen might bob up through the companion hatch and go be- low without a sign of agitation among the astute gulls. but let the white apron of the cook appear on deck, and there wa clamorous commotion among these eager and audacious guests. a flourish of his arm made them fairly hysterical with ex- citement, and when he tossed his garbage overboard a score of gulls were flying and crying around him, ready to catch the morsels the instant they fell into the sea. it is not too venturesome an assertion that these pacific gulls knew the meal hours aboard the gracie s., and if breakfast was late they began to protest with creaking cries and impatient, fluttering flights. nor was the sea ever empty of shipping. four-masted coasting schooners now and then slipped into the golden gate, bound from puget sound ports. they were lumber laden, and their deck-loads were of a top- heavy height to afflict an atlantic coasting skipper with nervous prostration. they were in accord with the spirit of pacific navigation, which is to “load 'em deep and take chances.' a big tramp, coal laden, came waddling in from british columbia. there was no more than a fine sailing breeze, but when this sluggish germanicus swung in to pick her way through the north channel, the sea was slopping over her well deck fore and aft. she appeared to be on the point of foundering, but she was no more than making good weather of it with a full cargo. a slim black schooner, heavily sparred, and tearing along like a racing yacht, slid out of the golden gate and laid a course a little south of west, there were brown- skinned sailors on her deck, and she smacked of the trade winds and the south seas. “she's one of the few island traders left," said a pilot. “there's a bit of life that's almost gone from the san francisco water front. a dozen years ago you could find the island schooners in here by the dozen, the kind you read about in steven- son's bully yarn of 'the wrecker.' but the beach comber and the kanaka sailor and the fast schooner chock full of trade for the benighted islander have slipped away from the american, who didn't hustle enough to keep up with the germans. it's the builders the dutchmen that have captured the south sea business just as they have scup- pered us in the deep-water cargo trade, and have made the english look sick in the race for the commerce of the orient.” the schooner bound for the marshall islands was no sooner hull down than a french ship four months out from ham- burg hove in sight, heading for the light- ship. her string of signal flags showed that she wanted to talk to a pilot. the gracie s. was expecting this stately square- rigger, because the ship's agent in san francisco had sent orders which he wished delivered to the skipper before he could haul in for the golden gate. the pilot schooner shook out a reef, and sped off to meet the frenchman. her red-capped crew was cheerily tidying ship, for port was in sight. at sight of the pilot boat they dropped their tasks, and tailed on to the weather clew of the mainsail. from the deck rose the hurricane voice of the mate: “weather main brace,” and then, “let go the lee main brace.” the main yard swung slowly aback, the big ship lost headway, and lay waiting for the pilot, who the skipper expected was hurrying to take him into port. but alas! the envelope delivered froin the agent in the san francisco office held orders to pro- ceed to portland to discharge her cargo. “by gar, it means anozzer month at sea, ” bawled the sallow skipper as he stamped his quarter-deck in rage and dis- appointment. "anozzer month of beating up coast, an' god knows how long waitin' off ze bar.” the pilot sympathized and made haste to escape. even the ship seemed to sulk. for an hour she lay off the light-ship, her main yard aback, before her crew fell to work, and she swung slowiy on her way. it was easy to imagine the gloom streked with the most vivid profanity which filled the weary ship from cabin to forecastle. within sight of the golden gate, to be or- dered to sea again after months of solitary wandering half around the world, was like being turned back at your own gate, and within sight of the lights in your own home . window, after a long, long absence. the disheartened wayfarer with her splendid spread of gleaming canvas was swooping hull down to the northward like a great gull, when a smudge of smoke showed against the tumbling green sea to the westward. “the siberia,” cried a pilot. “i said she would show up at nine o'clock this morning. it's a little after eight, and she'll be abreast of the light-ship in less than an hour.” his guess was right to a dot. the great liner, fit type of a new era in the life of the wide pacific, was racing for home from the far-away orient so close to her schedule that her arrival could be timed as accu- rately as if she were a transcontinental express. against another quarter of the 'horizon the square-rigger was dropping hull down, bearing with her an outlived age of romance on the sea. the liner, with her trailing column of smoke, the cargo of a dozen clippers stowed in her caver- nous holds, and the strength of ten thou- sand horses driving her against wind and weather, brought the message of the new age of the mind in the machine. her giant bulk lost headway, she picked up her pilot, who crawled up her tall side like a fly on a wall, and five minutes later the huge steel fabric was crashing through the swell to finish her run into the golden gate, a link between the oldest and newest civilizations, that lie five thousand miles apart in distance, but only a few days in time. captain john wallace, now a pilot on the gracie s., had seen as much of the two eras of steam and sail as a man in his prime could be expected to know. he first went to sea at the precocious age of six months, for his mother was the wife of a down-east shipmaster from thomaston, maine. when barely out of his teens this thoroughbred yankee seaman was master of a deep- water vessel, and for eight years command- ed one of the few fine big sailing ships that still hail from maine. his shipmate, cap- tain “jimmy” hayes, had been master of vessels in the alaska trade when the gold stampedes to that wonderful country were in full flight. he carried the frenzied ar- gonauts north to the crowded beach of nome, and to skaguay, when many skip- pers were facing hazards as startling as any of the perils undergone by the gold seekers. for the sorriest fleet of patched and painted coffins that ever masqueraded as sea-going vessels was assembled to reap the fat har- the outing magazine vest of the alaska coast. anything that alls and a jumper. this is the country would float and turn over an engine was where a man takes a chance to win out, pressed into service, and the story of the afloat or ashore.” north pacific includes a picturesque and one evening aboard the gracie s. the tragic tally of ships that had no plausible merits of the chinese and the japanese as excuse for staying afloat. even now, when sailors drifted into the discussion. an ancient liner drops from the active list with a tone of profound regret in his of the atlantic trade because of sheer de voice captain wallace observed: crepitude, it is not to be concluded that she “this boat has never been the same has been sent to the marine bone-yard. two since bennie left. who was bennie? just to one she will turn up with a new name a wizened, cock-eyed chinaman, cook of and a fresh coat of paint in the alaska trade. the gracie s. for seven years. he left us the gossip of captain hayes about the last cruise, just packed up his duffle and brave days of the rush to nome reminded went ashore. all chinamen look alike to me of a young man whom i encountered you, eh? well, that's because you didn't in seattle. he vanished from among his know bennie. he was a down-east new luxurious friends in new york three or england chinaman. old captain scrib- four years ago after losing a quarter of a ner, a maine skipper, picked bennie up million dollars in wall street over night. when he was six years old and raised him he fled far from the scene of his hair-rais- by hand. he grew up as good an ameri- ing ruin, and because he had not learned can as you ever clapped eyes on. he how to work, he suffered many vicissi could pull a rope, stand a trick at the tudes in the west, whence he went to seek wheel, work fifteen hours a day and cook his bread. he had been cow puncher and like a wizard. we couldn't get along with- brakeman, farm-hand and stevedore, be out him, and then he up and quit us be- sides many other curious and toughening cause the scandinavian foremast hands callings, while the west was making a man made some remarks about his grub. his of him. while "hustling" freight on a cooking was too good for them, that was seattle wharf, he was offered a chance to the matter. bennie stood it a little while, take a barge to alaska. and then came to me and told me that he “men were scarce and i was a husky- liked yankees, because he was one of us, looking lad,” said he, “and hard as nails. and would stand anything we had a mind did i jump at the job? of course i did. to say about his menu, but he'd be damned i didn't know anything about commanding if he'd stand any observations from those a sea-going barge. what difference did foreigners forward, meaning the 'square- that make? out here, you tackle any heads.'” thing that turns up if you've got the stuff "that's right, johnny," broke in cap- if you haven't, you starve to tain hayes; “chinamen are good men death. i picked up half a dozen rousta afloat, but i haven't much use for japs. bouts for a crew and set out in tow, loaded why, i took in a maru boat the other day, down to the hatches. i got to alaska with and the chief engineer, who was an eng- the barge, although two of my crew were lishman, was giving me his opinion of japs washed overboard and lost, and i had to as sailors. he had the evidence to back break the head of another with the butt of it up, too. we know they're slow and à gun. i put four hundred tons of ma lazy, but did you know that they're man- chinery on the beach from the open sea eaters? this engineer was all bandaged without a derrick or a wharf, and came up. he said the back of his hands and back to seattle with my barge afloat. i the front of his legs were chewed up as if put all i made on the trip into a charter a menagerie had broken adrift in the cargo. for the alaska trade, and the steamer went there had been a lively scrap in the fire on the rocks and i was flat again. so i room, and when he sailed in to clear the went back to work as a stevedore. now place, his jap stokers and trimmers turned i'm on my feet again, have a little backing on him and chewed him up according to and i'm looking out for another charter. their own style of fighting. now wouldn't l'll be rich in three years, or else l’ll be that make you sick? men calling them- shoving freight on the dock in blue over selves sailors with habits like that!" in you. the builders ence. i asked for tales of personal adventure wallace. “and folks ashore think the and was ill rewarded, for men who live compass always points north and south. amid strong and hazardous deeds are not if they want to signify the straight, honest easily led to talk about themselves. goods, they'll say “true as the needle to the "we have some rough times off here in pole.' as a matter of fact, the compass the winter,” said captain hayes, “when points almost any other old way by prefer- the southeasterly gales blow up. it isn't think of all the kinks you have to freezing weather like atlantic cruising, but look out for. for instance, do you know it blows hard enough to break the light-ship there is less compass deviation aboard a adrift every winter or so, and she manages steel ship if she's laid down north and south to clear race point somehow when she in the building yard? it's true. her hull blows to the northward. she'll go ashore becomes magnetized by the pounding of some time and there 'll be a lively story for the riveters on her plates. this wears out you. which reminds me of the time when of a ship in time. i once boarded a steel the reporter asked gus, the norwegian steamer, and her captain said while he was foremast hand, for an adventure story. showing me his compasses: “| vas upset sometimes in the yawl, “she's getting better all the time. it boarding off steamers in bad wedder,' will wear out of her in two or three more said gus, willing to oblige. last winter voyages. if she'd been laid down east and the yawl turned over and de udder feller west, the deflection would be much worse.' was drownded. i was in de water an hour, you might have thought he was telling me und i got pooty wet. dot's all, i tink.' about a horse he was breaking to harness. “seafaring life on this coast isn't so much funny, isn't it?" what you get into as what you manage to "yes,” said captain “jimmy," "it's one steer clear of,” captain hayes continued. more nut for the poor shipmaster to crack. "the pilots and shipmasters are blamed for it's bad enough to have to allow for de- a lot of disasters, but there's two sides to viation caused by cargo. even coal has the question. san francisco harbor, for played the devil with lots of compasses and example, is a mean place to handle a vessel. wrecked more than one fine vessel on this the currents shift over night and the fog coast. there's enough iron in several thou- shuts down like a blanket. then we have sand tons of coal to get on the nerves of to smell our way and often steer by the the compass, and i once saw a ship get echo of the fog whistles against the rocks, clean off her course because the man at the and steering by echoes isn't all plain sail wheel had a jack-knife in his pocket.” ing, if you've ever tried it. why don't we within the last half century hundreds of anchor and wait? we do, but it's often stout vessels have piled up on the rocky against the wishes of the shipmaster, and heads between puget sound and san die- back of him is the owner crazy to take go, many of them overloaded and under- chances and make time. most ships lost manned. contrasted with this black rec- along the pacific coast go ashore because ord is the story of the pilot schooner of the master is hugging the points and the golden gate, which is almost the last doubling the headlands instead of giving of her kind. she has already vanished himself plenty of sea room, all to gain a from the offing of new york harbor and little time and save a few tons of coal. the delaware capes, where steam has re- "and i've taken many a steamer to sea tired these stout-hearted little vessels. when her compasses were no more use for through the storms of two generations, steering by than a cat's tail in the dark. while big ships and steamers were adding her owner had given the skipper no time their names to the list of pacific disasters, to swing his ship in port and adjust his these schooners have fought through heavy compasses, and he went blundering out to weather and clawed off lee shores. sea, shaving the coast, his compass be only two of them have been lost since having like a drunken sailor. then when the fleets of the cape horn clippers brought he, loses his ship, he's most likely ruined them into being. five years ago, the for life, if he's lucky enough to escape being bonita was rammed by a whale while at drownded." sea, and the stern post ripped out of her. "right you are, jimmy,” said captain her crew had barely time to pitch their the outing magazine yawls over and escape with what they of the firing line are the leaders of the op- stood in before she went to the bottom. posing forces, james j. hill and e. h. thirty years ago, the caleb cushing cap harriman. they have spent half a billion sized while crossing the bar in a southeast dollars in a decade. they have rebuilt gale. she turned over end for end and all the transcontinental railway system, and hands were lost in this fatal somersault. their competition has reduced freight rates neither disaster could be blamed to poor thirty per cent. they have made cities, seamanship or lack of stanchness in the bridged seas, tunneled mountains, and lost vessels. they are examples of honest achieved feats of engineering and executive ship-building to-day. it was the gracie s. daring unequaled in industrial develop- that missed stays in a strong tide, and ment. mr. hill has said of his controlling crashed fourteen feet into a san francisco ambition: wharf without starting a plank of her hull. "i have been charged with everything, as for the seas that break over the bar from being an 'oriental dreamer' to a crank, when big winds blow and the pilot schoon but i am ready at all times to plead guilty ers are scudding for home, captain "jim to any intelligent effort within my power my" hayes can tell you stories like this: that will result in getting new markets for "i was taking out a big english tramp what we produce in the northwestern when there was some weather on the bar. country.” three seas broke clean over her bridge. he has made his dreams come true. the captain and the mate took to the seattle was a straggling seaside town when rigging and left me by my lonesome. i he put his railroad into it. since that time couldn't persuade 'em to come down from the puget sound ports have become mighty their perches until we were in the channel rivals of san francisco for ocean traffic, again. they swore the vessel was founder and the older city at the golden gate has ing. they looked kind of ridiculous sprad- seen them increase their tonnage by leaps dled out in the shrouds. yes, it's a bad and bounds, and at her expense. bar at times.” the alaska trade of seattle and tacoma when all three pilots had forsaken the alone has become an impressive factor in gracie s. to board the vessels they were the nation's business on the water high- seeking, the little schooner was left in ways. only nine years have passed since charge of her grizzled boat keeper, who had the steamer portland came into seattle sailed in these craft for more than thirty with the first big shipment of gold from the years. we headed homeward with a fair yukon and nome in her treasure room. wind and slipped past the rugged portals since then more than a hundred million of the golden gate into one of the fairest dollars in raw gold has passed through the harbors in all the world. the greatest city assay office at seattle. it has created a of the far west was purpled in twilight that traffic of twenty million dollars a year with shadowed its protecting hills. along the alaska ports, most of which streams north- water front were clustered the spars and ward from seattle. stacks of vessels loading for the ports of the if you think that steam has wholly orient, alaska, the south seas and hawaii. banished hot-blooded romance from the and beyond the wharves and the city sea, it is worth loafing along the seattle stretched the unseen railroads, fighting the wharves in the early autumn when the last most dramatic industrial conflict of to-day steamers of the year are loading for nome. for the victors' share of the pacific com it is a race with the ice that is already merce that bulks so big in reckoning with grinding off the distant and lonely coast the future of american enterprise. half a they are hurrying to reach. cargo fills century ago william h. seward read the their holds in roaring torrents of activity. signs aright when he said: when the last pound of freight that can be “the pacific ocean with its shores, its carried is shoved aboard the steamers, per- islands and the vast region beyond will be haps three or four of them turn northward come the chief theater of events in the with all the steam their straining boilers world's great hereafter.” can stand up under. it is a gamble, with building fleets is only one factor the the chances of being nipped in the ice or present struggle for expansion. far back being forced to turn back baffled. last the builders > autumn the gamblers lost, and one steamer or dakota swallows thirty thousand tons which i saw go surging out of seattle came of cargo, which is the burden of five hun- limping back a month later, her cargo still dred freight cars. they carry three thou- under her hatches. sand passengers when the lists are full. an average of nine vessels a week, or al their tonnage is twenty-two thousand, or most five hundred a year, clears from amer six thousand tons greater than any other ican ports for alaska, figures worth putting vessel in the pacific trade. and looking a alongside the objections of certain sapient little farther backward, one finds that the congressmen that it was a ridiculous waste minnesota is almost twenty times larger of money to pay russia $ , , for "an than the far-famed clipper of the age of empty ice-box. the docks of seattle tell sail, whose titanic heir she is to the com- another story. merce of the pacific. in this puget sound port one stands al a century ago a salem bark of only two most in the middle of the united states of hundred tons (a hundred of her like could this generation, for the aleutian islands be stowed in the holds of the minnesota stretch two thousand nine hundred miles or dakota) made one of the first voyages west of seattle, while eastport, maine, is around the horn to the new northwest about the same distance to the eastward. coast. she mounted eight guns, and her and some of us have to go west to learn cargo consisted of "broadcloth, flannel, that the sun is always shining somewhere blankets, powder, muskets, watches, tools, in this new america, for when the june beads and looking-glasses," for trading with twilight falls on the gray waters of behring the painted natives. sea, the new england farmer is milking on a recent voyage the minnesota car- his cows in the early dawn. ried to the orient seventy locomotives, more if you would be impressed by a final than a hundred railway cars, ten thou- proof that the dreamers of yesterday are sand kegs of wire nails, and half a mil- the builders of to-day, you should see one lion dollars' worth of hardware, machinery, of j. j. hill's new steamers loading for flour and other products of the mills, the japan and china and manila, and then mines, the farms and the factories, that, recall the kind of liners that were on the even from the far-away atlantic coast, pacific a few years ago. the minnesota seek new outlets toward the setting sun. (to be continued.) th an american ship, one of the last of her kind, departing from san francisco one of three by lawrence mott drawing by frank e. schoonover "b on!” guillaume bouchard shouted, laughed from across the store, "broddaire crashing his heavy fist on the guillaume ees slow lak de molass”; run up board counter, “napoleon no de de hill when she's col’!” the crowd roared grreates’ man en de worl’! dat feller ees with delight. laurier, by gar, laurier!” moutin, the “oui, so slow lak de moose go 'long een storekeeper, leaned forward, his little black de deep snow!” and raphael st. george eyes sparkling with enjoyment of the ar chuckled. gument. the store was close and hot, guillaume's strong, heavy face wrinkled and the air thick with the reek and fumes with amusement. “you attends, you fel- of many pipes. here were gathered all lers; to-night ah goin' starrt een hour for the gossips and wise men of the tiny camp seex, be back to-mor' après-midi, quebec village, according to time-worn den we mak' see 'bout dees affaire; dat custom, and the debate to-night was an agréable?” especially good one. old père donvalle "le camp seex? why for?” moutin nodded slowly, then in the silence after asked. guillaume's assertion he took the clay pipe “de boss he say for me breeng hup de from his mouth, stroked his. long gray telegramme w'en she comme, an' maudit, beard premeditatively and spoke: she ees arrive jus’ taim suppaire, damn!” “bon, guillaume, mon garçon, eef you “’ow you goin', by de run roun' or by t'ink no man so beeg en le monde as laurier, de longue traverse?” vat you goin' say ven ah say dat laurier “ah t’ink ah go longue traverse; de no so grand as le jesu christ? hein?” snow she no so bad for de dog dat way.” murmurs from the group showed that as he spoke guillaume went to the door this indeed was a hard proposition, and and opened it. it was a glorious mid- they all waited gravely for bouchard's winter night. at his feet the ice-bound answer. the low hanging lamp shed but river twined its frozen shape past the vil- weak rays of yellow light that scarce lage out to the open country, where its reached the walls, and only vaguely illu contour melted into the white that covered mined the neat rows of frying pans and everything, and was lost. the glittering kettles that were strung in precise lines stars sent steel-like shafts of light to the from the smoke-darkened roof beams. the earth, while the setting moon dispersed clusters of rubber boots and shoepacks the fading shadows and glistened on the seemed blacker than ever, and bunches of chimney pots of the compact little mass brooms dangled forlornly at all angles. of houses. here and there shone twink- guillaume, a huge lumberman of magnifi- ling lamps that seemed to warm guillaume, cent physique, viciously gnawed a chew of notwithstanding the bitter sting of freezing tobacco from his plug, and stared fixedly in the air; as he watched, a figure came at the open door of the big round stove, running up the hill on which the store was whence came comfortable beams of heat. built; it reached him. moutin tapped bouchard playfully on “eh, you grand bébé," a cheery voice the ear: “you an' èphe an' raphael, laughed from under heavy shawl, “no you got all arrange 'bout lucille, hein?" tak' all de door.” the figure brushed by "par dieu, non,” josèphe bouchard him into the house. he followed it. schonnoren drawing by frank e. schoonover. "he got lawson on his powerful back with the cut leg stuck forward through the crook of his arm, and he started. . one of three "bien, lucille, you no go bed 'tall?” “be back to-mor' certain?” moutin asked as he deftly unwound the “bien sure,” guillaume answered, as he cloth from the girl's head and throat. turned in at the little gate in the picket “bien sure, grandpère, onlee grand fence that surrounded his tiny home. “au mamman she want for de l'huile a leetle, revoir." so den ah come,” and she glanced roguish “au revoir, guillaume.” the other ly at the three, guillaume, josèphe and two passed on, the sound of their voices raphael, that crowded about her as close sinking gradually away down the silent as they could. road. "petite coquette!" moutin chortled, guillaume pushed his door open and rubbing his thin, worn old hands gleefully walked in. a warm little blaze flickered the while; “ef you no know dat dese t'ree and fluttered on the stone hearth, its light garçons here, ah goin' mak' de bet you no showing up the colored prints and old- come for de l'huile!” fashioned pictures on the low walls. in “you say too mooch dose t’ings, grand the center was a large one of laurier. père," but lucille's big brown eyes danced "guille, c'est toi?” came a strange, thin with mischief, and she tossed her head voice from behind a partition. merrily. "oui, mamman, ah goin' camp seex “why toi no come to-day cut de wood jus' queeck.” for me?" she took hold of josèphe's coat. “eet ver' col', hein, guille?” "lazee, hein? bah, mauvais garçon!" “no so bad lak'las' night, mamman." "no lazee 'tall, lucille; onlee guillaume “you comme back to-mor', je suppose!" an' josèphe an’ moi, we mak' arrange for "oui, mamman, bon soi', chérie." no go cut wood, no do notting teel you say bon soi', mon fils!” w'at mans we t'ree you goin' marrier, guillaume went to his corner of the voilà!" sleeping attic, found his heavy mitts and “c'est vrai.” stockings, his coarse woolen muffler, and “si, dat trrue!” the other two answered his sheepskin-lined capote; then he went together. softly down again. from a cupboard he most of the group that had been in the got some meat and bread and stuffed it in store had gone home; those that remained, his great pockets. however, smothered their chucklings to “by gar, eet plenty col’!” he whispered listen. to himself as he closed the door tightly the girl looked at the three big men in behind him. the dogs in the warm pretty defiance. thatched stable whimpered and whined "you t'ink you all somt'ing magnifique as he came among them. for to mak' sooch talk to moi! bon, ah "nannette, mouton, pierrot, vitesse;" goin' see w'at you do! ca for you!” and he whistled softly. like gray shadows she snapped her fingers in derision. the four rustled from their hay beds and "par dieu,” growled raphael good- scampered out. quickly he harnessed naturedly, making a grab for her. she them to the light sledge and sat himself was too quick, picking up the oil can, her comfortably on it. shawl, and darting out of the door, ap “marche!” and away they went; out parently all in one motion. the three of the yard gate, flying down the silvery stared at one another. road and from that into the somberness "sapristi! you, guillaume, by gar, you of the mute forest. on and on, now was de wan w'at say for do dees way weet across openings between the trees where la petite! sacrée, eet no goin' worrk!” the snow shone cold and brilliant, now "nev'min', garçons, ev't'ing be fus'- through tall, majestically silent groves of class by’m-by.” heavy norway pine, then down to and moutin climbed slowly on the sugar bar along the frozen river where the night rel to put out the lamp as he spoke. light was perfect. foxes scuttled away "bon soi', bon soi', moutin,” and the before this thing that moved so fast and so three departed, leaving him to lock up quietly, and once as the whee-ing sledge with the ponderous key that scraped and passed under a gigantic fir, an owl, startled squeaked shrilly in its lock. from its watching, gave a muffled hoo! and the outing magazine sailed over his head to the darker shades bouchard got some food for the four of the forest on the other bank. that stood panting from their fast pace, traveling rapidly, the swift motion cre and while they ate he swallowed a steaming ated a drowsiness; try as he would his hot pan of tea and gulped down a handful eyelids would droop, and in this semi-con of bread and pork. scious state he imagined that he was talk “readee!” he shouted. five men care- ing to lucille. fully brought the unfortunate lawson to “you no marrie me?" he muttered the sledge. the man was as weak as a thickly, then a pause. child, and suffering great pain. his left “ah loove you so mooch, petite, mak' leg was swathed in strips of cloth, blankets, nice home, ev't'ing for you.” another anything that they could find in camp to pause, “ah know josèphe he loove you, stop the bleeding, but the red flow had an’ raphael aussi, but moi, ha! ah loove soaked through, and it turned black in the you lak' laurier he loove le canadaw!” freezing air. a long silence this time, then, "fair play "easy, boys, easy!” lawson whispered for t'ree? bon, ah'm satisfy, but w'en as they laid him on a pile of bagging which you goin' décider?" a short hesitation guillaume had fastened to the sledge. and he hurried on, his words clear and “thanks, boys, you've been mighty good strong. “you say you goin' marrier de to me," the poor fellow called weakly as man dat have bessis' courage?” in an bouchard seated himself on the little space instant he spoke again. "ah oon'stan', he had left at the rear of the sledge for the petite, ah goin' try!” purpose. just then the sledge struck a branch that “that's o. k., mike; good luck to ye, had been frozen; it lurched, rose on one son!” the whole crew shouted as they sped runner, then settled back with a crash. off. this thoroughly wakened bouchard, and the dogs did their best, guillaume urging he began to whistle jauntily. as the stars them on from time to time, but what with dimmed one by one and the air became the heavy load and the run they had just sharper and more biting, he guided the dogs finished, the pace was not as fast as before. off the river on to a wood road. along the sun was up now, but its rays could this they dashed, cleverly avoiding the deep barely be felt; pale and sickly it looked, ruts made by the log sledges from day to peering out now and then from the heavy, day as they transported monster loads from soggy masses of snow clouds. they came to the cuttings to the river landings. the river again; the speed increased here. when the chill grays and blues of a “'ow was dat you cut- winter dawn lightened the eastern horizon, cra-a-ack! sw-a-a-asssssh! the ice, thin guillaume reached camp six. the men here over swift water, had let them through, were just getting up, and the smoke from dogs, sledge and all! the cook fires rose straight into the air. guillaume grabbed the wounded man by the foreman ran out. his capote collar; they both went under “holy tickets, i'm glad ye've come!" for an instant, but luckily when the ice “w'at's mattaire?” bouchard asked as broke it did so over a large circumference, he stood up slowly, stiff from the long so that when bouchard came to the surface, ride. pulling lawson after him, they had not “mike lawson damn near cut his leg been swept under the ice beyond by the off yesterday; he's purty near dead now, current. but if any one can save him you can, by "oh, dieu, oh, dieu !” guillaume shout- taking him as quick as god 'll let you with ed this again and again in his excite- your dogs; the horses couldn't get down ment and fear for lawson. the latter had to the village now!” lost consciousness. by dint of crushing guillaume stood still for a moment, then, the weak edges of the hole with his free the facts having thoroughly soaked into arm, guillaume reached strong ice and his mind, “bon,” he said, “ah tak' heem, struggled out, dragging the other. he but dogs mus' have for eat!" stared at the senseless man. "sure, man, sure; hurry up, by jiminy, "oh, bon dieu an' laurier, w'at do, hurry up!” w'at do?" one of three he felt the man's pulse; it was fairly advantage of josèphe and raphael's ab- strong. ice was forming on both of them; sence to glorify himself. indeed, when guillaume moved, even now, “w'en you are dress an’ warrm an' have his clothes crackled. eat, comme to de store, ah have somt’ing “eet two mile a half l’om here; ah goin' for to say.” lucille disappeared in the carry heem, par dieu!” house. no sooner had he decided what to do with a feeling of an impending great than he did it. event guillaume changed his clothes, had he got lawson on his own powerful back a drink of "w'iskey blanc," a bite to eat, with the cut leg stuck forward through the then he rushed out, having scarcely told crook of his arm, and he started. his mother anything, though she clamored the violent exertion soon warmed him for information. through, but the other's clothes froze fast to his astonishment the store was crowd- to guillaume's. he hurried frantically on, ed when he got there; every one in the the dogs, their harness dragging, following village was on hand, all in their best behind. in less than an hour he saw the clothes. he did not understand. village in the white distance and renewed “aha, guillaume, w'at ah tell to you?” his efforts. père donvalle saw him com old moutin grinned. “lucille she goin' ing, and men came out to help. josèphe mak'choose maintenant!” the faces, the and raphael were the first to reach him. kettles, the boots, everything danced for a “dat too damn bad!” josèphe said moment before guillaume's eyes, but he as guillaume, breathless, gasped out the gathered himself. story. josèphe and raphael came then and the "tak' heem queeck to le docteur, queeck three stood silently together. you can!” he begged, as the other two re a happy laugh, a little song, and lucille lieved him of his heavy load. they stag- appeared; the three drew long breaths. gered off, guillaume coming more slowly. “dat lawson, 'ow ees he?” she asked of as he drew nearer his eyes sought lu josèphe. the latter coughed, stuttered and cille's home; he looked, but somehow he looked at raphael, who nodded solemnly. could not find it in its accustomed place. “de docteur say he goin' get well, but he rubbed his face and searched again; dat eef guillaume had no breeng heem so then he saw a few charred embers, that was fas', den-la mort!” all. a pang of agony went through his the crowd sighed in admiration. “merci, my broddaire an' my frien?!” “lucille, lucille!” he cried aloud and bouchard stammered. "no merci necessaire, dees ees fair play with tears in his eyes he came to the een honeur!” raphael answered, and the house, and was dully looking at the re three drew themselves up proudly. mains when an adored voice called. the girl looked at each. “pleas' go "guillaume, grand bêbé!” he looked dere," she said, pointing to an open space up at the heavens first, and then saw by the counter. then she was silent. lucille coming from a neighbor's home. men and women stood on cracker boxes, “dieu and laurier, merci!” bags of flour, anything that would lift "you' mamman an' grandmamman an’ them up, for was this not the engagement adolphe?" he scarcely dared listen to of their favorite to one of three men that her answer. worshiped her, and for each of whom she “all sauf by raphael an' josèphe; dey had a warm corner in her heart? have du grrand courage!" "my frien's, ah goin' marrie dees man!" his heart sank within him at her words, she ran lightly across and threw her arms and he suddenly realized that he was terri about one of the three. the group laughed bly cold; he turned away sadly, when she and shouted, cheering and crying out good spoke again. fortune and happiness. then they all de- “toi aussi, you have du grand courage!” parted silently, leaving the girl and her he came back swiftly, his arms half out choice, while the snowflakes drifted slowly stretched, then he remembered the arrange to earth and the church bell tolled the ment; no, he could not in honor take every fiber. ran on. vesper hour. general daniel morgan the hero of cowpens by lynn tew sprague painting by stanley m. arthurs ous. hen, in the spring which the nation he fought so valiantly to of , braddock create was to offer to the worthy. few set out on the ill men of morgan's time, in fact, rose from so starred expedi- humble a station to so eminent a place w tion against fort in history. almost nothing is known of duquesne, there his childhood. his many biographers even marched with his differ as to where and when he was born. command four three states, new jersey, pennsylvania young men who and virginia, are assigned the honor. if were destined to the great general knew himself he never become generals in the war for indepen saw fit to declare; in fact, his troubled boy- dence. two of them, gates and clinton, hood and disgraceful youth were themes were englishmen by birth, but were to take he avoided in his later years. but new different sides in the revolutionary strife. jersey and the winter of are the most the other two were to prove themselves probable place and time of his coming into entitled to a high place among the military the world. what is certain is that as a chiefs of the world. had braddock's brit boy of seventeen he was a field hand in ish regulars possessed the hardihood, cour jefferson county, va.—a big, brawny lad, age and skill of one, they had never been strong as an ox, rough, unlettered and riot- ambushed and routed, and had their ob- but though he was a mere laborer stinate and vainglorious general listened in a day when and a place where work was to the wise counsel of the other, he would little honored, he was not like many of his have escaped disgrace and death. both class, but a step above the slaves, mere these young men were virginians and be human animals. he was known to be as longed to the colonial contingent for whose brave as he was strong, and as honest as he prowess braddock expressed so much con- was ignorant, and evidence of his fine but tempt; both were destined to play a con uncultured mind was shown on many oc- spicuous part in the great struggle for equal casions by his sterling good sense. he was rights, the seeds of which were being sown magnificently made a picture of manly even then; both were possessed of iron power, standing six feet two inches in his constitutions and almost giant statures, moccasins, and his face, when later it re- and in their respective persons represented ceived the light of finer feeling and new the extremes of social station in the old aspiration, was strikingly frank and hand- dominion. one was col. george wash some. ington, an aide on braddock's staff, and young morgan saved his wages, bought a the other was daniel morgan, laborer and team and set up in business for himself. teamster with the baggage train. he became a freighter across the moun- morgan's career was indeed rich in strik tains, a calling that required extraordinary ing and interesting contrasts, and a brilliant strength, resource and courage in those example of the success of the lowly and of wild ys. when the french and indian those chances to win fame and fortune war broke out, he volunteered as a wagoner - general daniel morgan with braddock's army, and though he was on his horse, and clutching the mane, put headstrong and a hard hitter with his fists, spurs to the animal with what strength the his love of fair play made him a favorite shock had left him. one fleet-footed in- with his fellows. he learned much on that dian, throwing away his gun, sprang to the disastrous expedition, and distinguished chase, tomahawk in hand. he expected himself in a humble way. it is related that to see morgan tumble from his mount at once when his immediate superior was on every leap. over the rough mountain the point of coming to blows with a no ground the indian gained upon the horse torious bully, morgan said quietly, "cap and clutched its tail. he could not use his tain, you must not fight him; i reckon tomahawk, for all his strength was in his he'd whip you and disgrace our company. legs. for a half mile or more the despe- order me to thrash him,” and accepting rate race continued, and then, human en- silence as consent, he gave the rough an durance proving unequal to the pace, the unmerciful drubbing. savage fell to the ground with a yell of but his love of hard hitting soon after rage. he sprang to his feet and threw got him into trouble. a supercilious brit his tomahawk, but missed his aim. mor- ish lieutenant insolently ordered morgan to gan became unconscious, but his grip was some unpleasant service, and was knocked firmly set and never relaxed until his good flat by the brawny wagoner. for this horse had carried him to the fort. offense morgan was sentenced to receive by the time morgan was on his feet again five hundred lashes from the drummer of the border war was over, and, something of the company. he bore them with the a hero in the eyes of those who knew him, stoicism of an indian, and said afterward he settled in barrystown, va., to lead for that by his own count he only got four a time a life somewhat disreputable. his hundred and ninety-nine. headlong energy now displayed itself with- when the battle came morgan, as team out restraint or reason. his ever-ready ster, was not on the fighting line, but he was fists were in active play; he could drink one of the few who did not lose their head more whiskey than any man in the dis- in the panic of flight, and he stuck by his trict, and it is to be feared that he was team to the last. somewhat of a bully. his successful prize he had seen war now, and his belliger- fight with “bill” davis was a sporting ent spirit made him long to be a soldier. event in the district. yet through all this scarcely was he home from the calamitous wild life he is said to have betrayed no un- campaign than he joined the provincial derhanded meanness; his turbulent and dis- troops, and soon after his ready and im- orderly career was open and above board. petuous courage made him a scout and an he should be judged, too, by his oppor- ensign. his exploits in the wild and per- tunities and his time. it was a day of hard ilous border warfare against the indians knocks and copious drinks. few gentle- rivaled those of his illustrious contem men thought it decent to go to bed sober, porary, putnam, in the north. had we and the very clergymen of episcopal vir- space for them, a hundred hair-breadth es ginia raced their horses and took their port capes might be related. but greater deeds or madeira without stint. morgan's riot- and a broader field were his. one of his ous existence might be ascribed by the last perilous adventures in this early strife partial to a mere exuberance of energy and may be told to show the mettle and en excessive animal spirits. he loved horses durance of the man. and dealt in them, and it is stated, carrying dispatches between military ticed no deceit. but woe to the trader posts, he and two companions, when two who lied to him; a battered frame and miles distant from a fort, were once un bruised features attested the fraud. expectedly attacked by savages in am but withal morgan was noted as the best bush. both his companions were killed by shot, the most successful hunter and the the first fire and morgan was severely hit. hardest rider of his district, and a clergy- a rifle ball entered the back of his neck, man who respected his manly side ven- tore away two back teeth of his lower jaw tured to reason with him. but the jolly and pierced his left cheek. morgan, as bruiser had no time to listen. ever, was well mounted. he fell forward then on a sudden there came a great prac- the outing magazine change. the song that was old when vir- ginia's hills were new sang in his big, rough heart, and the fierce spirit that the muscles of his fellow rioters could not break, nor religion tame, was subdued by a pair of soft brown eyes. she was the daughter of a well-to-do farmer, and is described as a gentle, frail creature, bright and well educated, with religious leanings, who felt an affectionate desire to reclaim her hero. they were married, and morgan bought a few acres and gave his energies to stock and crops. the farm prospered. under his wife's tui- tion morgan read and studied and his fine mind expanded. he became an ornament to the neighboring town for which his pre- vious brawls had won the name of “bat- tletown." but though he was a changed, studious and sober man, he was neither very meek nor very lowly. in the first weeks of his new life he felt called upon to thrash any of his old companions who derided his conversion. as the years went by and morgan pros- pered he became deeply interested in pub- lic affairs. he had felt british insolence as a teamster with braddock and he was patriotic to the core. when the news of concord and lexington came, the love of conflict awoke again within him and he was for war and independence. after bun- ker hill he volunteered, and such was now his reputation that he received a captain's commission, and in less than a week had raised his company and started north. better men never fought than those who marched with morgan -- hardy, fearless, big-framed virginians--all crack shots with their long-barreled rifles, they formed the nucleus of morgan's brigade of riflemen, afterward so famous. their hardihood and endurance seem marvelous in these days. it was six hundred miles to wash- ington's headquarters at cambridge, mass.; yet, marching much of the way through a wilderness, they reported for service in twenty-one days. it chanced that wash- ington himself witnessed the end of their march and rode out to meet these men of his native state. captain morgan drew up his company to receive the chief, and saluting said, simply, “general, from the right bank of the potomac.” washington dismounted without a word and took every man's hand in his. but when boston was invested by the americans there was little active fighting. morgan's indomitable spirit, however, soon found difficulties upon which to expend itself. he was ordered to join that brilliant but perfidious soldier, benedict arnold, in the disastrous expedition against quebec. arnold was in chief command, and mor- gan led the advance guard. the horrors of that march have often been told. the expedition had started in early septem- ber, , but, marching through an un- explored and trackless wilderness, they encountered a thousand unforeseen obsta- cles, and winter was upon them before they reached the st. lawrence. the com- mand was terribly wasted. the men wal- lowed in deep, half-frozen swamps and bogs; they were forced to make almost impossible portages and perilous crossings over swol- len, icy streams; their provisions were ex- hausted, and they ate dogs and candles, and boiled their very footgear for nourish- ment. of the eleven hundred men who set out, less than six hundred were drawn up before quebec. but the temper of both leaders was undaunted. the fiery morgan was even for immediate assault, but ar- nold thought himself too weak to attack the fortified town. he, however, offered battle to the governor, who prudently declined. he then drew off to await the arrival of the forces under montgomery, which, having driven clinton from mon- treal, were marching north. on the fifth day of december the united armies, now three thousand strong, were before que- bec. but the garrison had now also been strengthened by the arrival of clinton's army and other reinforcements. never- theless, the assault was gallantly and bril- liantly made on the night of december th. while feints were executed at sev- eral points to divide and distract the gar- rison, arnold led one assaulting column and montgomery another. but both lead- ers fell—the able and fearless montgomery to rise no more. the chief command of arnold's division now devolved on morgan. that hero with ladders scaled the barri- cade with his riflemen. he was the first to mount, and as his head appeared above the fortification, a discharge of musketry carried away his hat and tore hair from his scalp. the shock brought him to the ground. but on the instant he was up - * general daniel morgan british army. again and over the wall with his men, outnumbered as he was, he succeeded in driving the enemy before him into the nar maneuvering general howe out of new row streets of the city-all the while en jersey, and that state never again held a couraging his riflemen “with a voice louder than the northeast gale." morgan held his in the midst of the evolutions of the position in the town for hours, fighting armies, morgan, impatient of restraint and madly, waiting to be reinforced by arnold's panting for action, suddenly hurled his reserves and hoping for good news of the rifles upon the rear guard of cornwallis's other attacking column. but no aid came, division at piscataway, and drove it in and morgan, outnumbered and surrounded, upon the main body with fearful execution tried to cut his way back. his men were to the enemy. attacked in turn in force, divided. many were killed; many surren he held his position with wonderful skill dered. morgan himself placed his back and tenacity. then, fronted with a force against a wall, sword in hand, and declined double his number under the commander- to be taken alive. but a generous enemy re in-chief himself, he still kept the british fused to shoot so brave a leader. his own at bay, and would not be dislodged until captive soldiers now pleaded with him not the foe was reinforced by heavy artillery madly to sacrifice his life. perceiving a and morgan's position rendered untenable chaplain near, morgan cried out to know by a storm of grape. this little action if he were a clergyman. being told that won for morgan the admiration of wash- he was, the undaunted hero said, “then, ington, and henceforth he was known to sir, give my sword to you; but no foe shall troops and officers as “gallant dannie ever take it from me.” morgan.” though the american army continued to but general burgoyne, in the certain ex- invest the city for months, arnold being pectation of dividing the colonies by the superseded and reinforcements sent, noth- plan so confidently elaborated by the brit- ing was accomplished. all chance of the ish war office, was now on the march south conquest of canada ended with the capture from canada with the best troops england of morgan. that gallant virginian was could muster and equip. morgan was or- held prisoner for nearly a year. his frank dered to reinforce the american general, and winning personality, his great courage gates. his fighting qualities were by this and proved capacity won the friendship of time rated so high that his force was at the british officers. efforts were made to once placed with the advance guard and seduce his loyalty from the colonies. he he held command of arnold's right wing. was even offered the rank of colonel in early in september, , the american the british army, but he repelled the offer army, advantageously posted, was at be- with scorn. mis heights near the stillwater river, and at length, in september, , his ex a few miles south of saratoga, n. y. it change was effected. it is said that when was necessary for burgoyne to dislodge it he first landed on american soil he threw or make a long detour on his southward himself flat upon his face and cried, “oh, march, leaving an enemy in force in his my country!" rear. on the th of september, , the his reputation as a soldier was now very two armies were almost in touch; on the high, and receiving a commission as colonel, th skirmishing told each that serious at the suggestion of washington he was work was at hand. on the morning of the intrusted with the congenial task of in th burgoyne moved forward in three creasing what was left of his old company columns, that under general frazier being to a regiment of rifles. at the head of the first to strike the american army. it these frontier fighters and expert marks came in contact with morgan's regiment. men, he joined washington at morristown soon the battle became general. in april, . the commanders of the no action of the war was more to the contending armies were then each waiting credit of the american army. raw levies for the other to attack. there was much of militia fought with a steadiness and marching and counter-marching for posi valor that inflicted terrible loss on the tion, and washington at the time was veteran english troops. but it was a bat- much blamed for his fabian tactics. but, tle of regiments, almost of man against the outing magazine man. gates, the commander-in-chief, was elated by a victory which others had made never once on the field. no officer did such inevitable, the vainglorious gates dreamed effective work that day as morgan. again of supplanting washington, and sought to and again he led his rifles to the charge. enlist the sympathies of morgan. with his horse was shot under him and twice he indignation that hero replied, “sir, i, for narrowly escaped death. but his mighty one, will never serve under any chief but voice was ever heard above the roar of bat washington.” tle, encouraging his men in the thickest of after the surrender of burgoyne morgan the fight. the action was technically a returned to the army in pennsylvania and drawn battle, but in effect it was a victory for some months served with credit, yet for the americans. with no opportunity to win new distinction. for eighteen days the armies now but years of constant and terrible strain, faced each other, during which time the exertion and exposure, his youthful ex- strength of the americans grew and bur cesses and perhaps the sting of neglect after goyne's condition became serious. his brilliant service, had begun to undermine retreat was cut off and provisions ran his iron constitution. he soon retired in low. on the th of october he precipi- ill health to the wife and home he so ten- tated the final battle, known in american derly loved, in virginia, and was there history as the “second battle of still- when gates assumed command of the water,” and by the british called the “bat- southern army. when morgan's health tle of saratoga.” morgan was again the was partially restored he was directed to most conspicuous figure on the field. with report to gates. this he was at first re- arnold, who was a mere volunteer and luctant to do, but when he learned of the without official command on that day, he defeat and the disgrace of that general and led the desperate charge on the extreme of the british outrages that followed it, right that broke the enemy and threw his patriotism flamed anew and he hastened them into confusion. here in fact ameri to join the army. the humiliated gen- can independence was won, for the success eral now received the valiant soldier with of the americans won the assistance of marked cordiality and honor, and assigned france. to him a separate command; and when one graphic incident of this fight is greene superseded gates he confirmed worth notice: morgan's rifles again faced morgan's appointment. in the meantime the troops of general frazier, and noticing morgan, chiefly through the efforts of the in the height of the battle that gallant sagacious jefferson, had been made by con- officer inspiring his men by example and gress a brigadier-general of continental by word, morgan pointed him out to his troops. old company of expert marksmen, saying: it was the mere sorrowful wreck of an "men, that is general frazier. i honor army that fell to the command of greene. him; he is a gallant soldier. but the good demoralized and miserably equipped as of your country requires that he should they were, the able general at once be- die.” almost with the words the british gan the work of reorganizing the men for general fell, a little later to die with the the great work they afterward achieved. dramatic exclamation, “oh, thrice-damned greene fixed his headquarters in a fruit- ambition!” ful valley in south carolina, while mor- with the victory of the americans, bur gan with his command, the most effective goyne's position became utterly desperate, of the troops as a decoy for cornwallis, and ten days later he surrendered. moved into the wasted country between “during the resistance to burgoyne," the black and catawba rivers. here he wrote the ablest student of these battles, suppressed the tory risings and restored or- "daniel morgan, from the time of his trans der. tarleton, the ablest and most savage fer to the northern army, never gave other and successful of cornwallis's brutal lieu- than the wisest counsel, and stood first for tenants, was at once in motion to destroy conduct, effective leadership and unsur morgan. tarleton had with him twelve passable courage on the field of battle; hundred men, the best of the british force, yet gates did not mention him for promo nearly a quarter of cornwallis's army. he tion.” the reason was not far to seek. was superior to morgan in numbers by athur painting by stanley m. arthurs. through the wilderness to quebec, — morgan's men in the race - - general daniel morgan the peale portrait of general daniel morgan, hanging in the independence hall, philadelphia. about one-third, and had no misgivings he posted his men and inspirited them could he succeed in bringing morgan to with his own high fearlessness. on the battle. and that general, burning with in- highest eminence he posted his maryland dignation at british atrocities, greatly out- regulars and veteran virginia riflemen. he numbered though he was, meant to fight. placed in front his militia to meet the first he had under his command little more onset, giving them orders to retire behind than eight hundred men; but he knew his veterans when they were no longer their mettle and their faith in him. he able to hold their ground. he threw still chose his ground with consummate skill, farther forward a band of sharpshooters and awaited the british with the confidence as skirmishers. in reserve he held colonel of a brave and able general. on a slope of washington's famous cavalry of but one natural terraces on wooded ground, near hundred and twenty men. a large corral known as “the cow-pens,” at daylight on the th of january, ! the outing magazine sixth year. . tarleton was in touch with morgan's consulted by washington and by adams, skirmishers, and the sharpshooters terribly and there he died july , , in his sixty- worried his advance guard. but the over- confident british commander lost no time. "every man would be a coward if he he at once formed his men for battle, and durst,” said the dissolute but valiant earl with his accustomed dash and impetuos- of rochester; and marshal ney, when ity hurled them upon morgan's position. felicitated upon a never-failing fearless- they were met by a galling fire from the ness, replied, “ know, sir, that none but a militia, who, falling back, re-formed and poltroon boasts of never being afraid.” fired again with a precision and rapidity so morgan confessed to feeling a strong that checked the advance, and then fell dread of death every time he entered battle. back upon the second line. when the brit but once the fight was on, once cannon ish struck the line formed of veterans they roared or saber flashed, his only thought were held steadily, and tarleton ordered was victory. up his reserves. then morgan ordered morgan had qualities that entitled him a general advance and at the same time to be compared with the greatest military threw washington's cavalry on the right leaders of history: he had all the dash of flank of the foe. by this movement the murat; he was as resourceful as condé; british were thrown into confusion, and like marlborough, “his faculties were quick- the accurate fire of the virginians soon ened by the approach of danger.” his put them to rout. british regulars threw passions were strong, but he early learned away their guns and cried for quarter. to control them. “he could glow with the pursuit lasted for miles. all the brit anger, but was never mastered by it.” ish baggage and more than half of the bancroft says of him that at the time british command fell into the hands of the he assumed command under greene, and americans. it was perhaps the most bril- fought and won the battle of cowpens, “he liant victory of the whole war. was the ablest commander of light troops but with this great success morgan's in the world; and in no european army services were ended. knowing cornwallis of that day were there troops like those he to be close at hand with the whole british trained.” army he fell back upon greene, and a few the american struggle was not only, days later was so prostrated by the ill was not chiefly, a struggle for national health that the anxiety and exertion of autonomy; it was first of all a battle for his campaign had brought upon him that, the rights of the masses; for opportunity to the great sorrow of his chief and the and privilege of the individual. morgan's whole army, he was compelled to retire life strangely exemplifies all that was won again. twice after he attempted to take by the revolution. he was a peasant in the field. he joined la fayette with his the colony of a monarchy, and he became riflemen, but was too ill to take part in the a great leader and a moral force in a great siege of yorktown. again, after the war, republic. he was a swaggering bully and more by his presence than by any active an ignorant rustic, and he became an ac- service, he helped to quell the whiskey re- complished general and an honored gen- bellion in pennsylvania. elected to con tleman. history is but a synthesis of gress by his district in , he was com biography, and one rises from the study pelled by ill health to relinquish his seat of the revolutionary period with the con- after two sessions of that body. he lived viction that, as man and soldier, daniel at manchester, va., in the last years of his morgan was one of the brightest figures quiet, studious life. there he was often of that time. - v het hy s wateron "i'm a regular frump, fat, hysterical and stupid." the restoration of helen by adÈle marie shaw "c" lifford, come back a minute.” control. the grief they uttered was cer- “what is it, helen? i'm late tainly real. but their abandonment was for the train already." too nerveless to excite the sympathy they the woman's voice was tearful; the craved. the woman's plump figure shook man's patient with the kind of patience and quivered in a kind of spineless misery. that means impatience with difficulty con the man had returned and stood with one trolled. arm around the crying woman; he had not "i can't bear to have you go like this.” dropped his bag. the tearful voice caught in a sob. "helen,” he said, “what is the use of all "like what, helen? you know i must this? i must have my mind clear for the go; it's as much for your sake as mine.” next few days-everything depends on it. i “i know- - once you would have must be alone. you aren't yourself or you'd taken me with you!" see it—there's the whistle. kiss me; the sobs came without any attempt at must hurry. yes, yes, i'll write. good-bye.” the outing magazine the man pressed his lips to the wet face she would still be a “personable" woman. and swung himself swiftly down the path, she was conscious only that her features breaking into a run as the sound of the had lost their distinction in the encroach- train approaching the hillcrest station ing flabbiness of her cheeks, that her shirt grew louder. to clifford macy the world waist showed sidewise wrinkles over her too was a good place; he could not understand matronly flesh. why his wife found it increasingly doleful. in the hour that followed, the contrast if he was glad to get away he did not own that stayed before her eyes was not the girl it even to his own thoughts, but life was and the woman, but the woman listless and offering a great deal to the man whose wife aging and a man young, fine, vigorous, was becoming less and less a part of his hurrying for his train and not looking back. happiness. he was successful and growing how could any one ever have called her more successful. among the men who met "bright"? she knew what people were him in business, at the clubs, in the reun saying now—“such a pity that that bril- ions of old friends, he was a central figure, liant clifford macy had married a dull eagerly welcomed. his vigorous, attrac wife!” was clifford contented with a tive personality gripped attention, and companionship that rose no higher than those who met him casually often sought food? he had been all his old self with occasion to know him better. the woman artist from london; they had helen watched his well-set-up figure out had more to say than she and he had had in of sight, and turned away aggrieved that he a year. had not looked back to wave his hand. to have risked his train would have been “hello!-why, budd!” worse than foolish; but once he would not "mercy-tom, is that you!” have reasoned, he would have made some the voice was boyish and hearty. it sign. and mrs. durfee was at the window galvanized the limp figure on the couch of the next house! helen macy waved a into instant life. debonair greeting from her own window, “you, boy! i thought you were in scot- and then mounted the stairs slowly to the land.” room where clifford had dressed in ab “scotland's off. bates got the molly- sorbed silence, without an apparent qualm grubs, so we slid over the landscape to at the separation that might last for weeks. glasgow and here i am. thought i'd sur- what she had said was true. once there prise you first, then go up to the ranch to would have been no separation. how see dad." proud cliff had been the first time he had “there isn't a soul up there, tom. fa- taken her to chicago, and his friends had ther's on his way west this minute with a fêted her and flattered her and swept her 'scheme. you've missed your letters- off her feet on a wave of admiring good "bless the old vagabond; i hope the will. and that was only five years ago! 'scheme' isn't expensive"-tom interrupt- she stopped before the glass and looked ed her after the first hug and outpour at herself with the unsparing thoroughness –“what's the matter, budd? anything that would make even beauty mean. on happened?” the dresser lay a leather case; clifford in “nothing's happened only clifford's his hurry had forgotten it. that seemed gone away. helen pulled herself to- the final straw; it was her picture. he had gether. she was jealous of the appearance never forgotten it before. she opened the of happiness. “don't i look pleased to see case. the girl inside gazed up at her with little brother'?” the surprise of an apparition. could she, "little brother" grinned; he expanded helen macy, have been that clear-eyed his big frame in a sigh of amused relief. girl, beautiful, hopeful, happy? then who "you didn't when i hove in sight! aren't was this, the woman in the glass? she saw you fat-cricky! budd, this won't do; herself in exaggerated caricature. “fat makes you look like an old woman.” and frumpy,” she groaned, “and blear “that's the trouble," answered his sis- eyed and hideous.” in the exaggeration ter promptly. “i'm a regular frump, fat, of her disgust, as in the exaggeration of her hysterical and stupid.” she mopped her woe, she forgot that, animated and active, eyes and laughed. this brotherly frank- the restoration of helen ness was good. clifford's evasions and “this vacation. i know i can, but everlasting, “you're a mighty good-looking you'd have to mind. you never were woman, helen, and you know it,” had been much on being bossed and that's the long less satisfactory than the truth. suit of training." tom was regarding her briskly with the “oh, i'd be docile as a lamb—i'd let eye of an athlete known and honored in his you 'boss' me into imbecility if i believed” own school. all that day, as they ate, -helen shook her head with complete drove and walked, his gaze came back to skepticism. her, puzzled and ruminative. "we begin to-night. what's your weight, "cliff ought to know better than to let net?” tom took out a note-book and un- you run down like this,” he opined wrath capped a fountain-pen. fully. helen laughed. she had laughed often "clifford hasn't let me run down. i'm since tom had appeared; the cheerful con- getting old,” she began. fidence of his exuberant youngness refreshed "some one's to blame. you were such a her amazingly. he was troubled by no jolly girl" problems of lost romance. "it's not clifford,” she answered sharp “i haven't dared to be weighed for ages," ly, and tom was silent. she confided, and was surprised to find it “i know what it is. you're all out of more funny than tragic. training.” he lounged in clifford's leather “got a machine?” chair after dinner and contemplated the “clifford has. but you needn't be get- ceiling through his own smoke. “no ting up in that business-like way. i would- body'd ever call you budd now!" n't exercise to-night if you'd make me a “why did they-'ever'?” helen pulled living skeleton in ten minutes.” helen set- the chocolates nearer and munched while tled deeper in her chair. she talked. “thank heaven, i can still “anything the matter with your heart? eat,” she quoted whimsically. some old drop beats or anything? give me your spirit seemed renewed by tom's coming. wrist.” tom was serious. “your pulse it was good to see the boy. is fast and fussy because you're all out of “why did they call you budd? after a condition. that's nerves. shock had it jockey who could ride like a streak. wasn't before the exeter game once. come on, it you who ran away on spitfire before you budd. let me weigh you anyway. expect could walk?” anybody to-night?” "i could certainly walk at six, and that no; helen expected no one. when clif- was when i stole spitfire. you weren't ford was out of town visitors were fewer; born. i can see the landons now, gaping she had grown too listless to entertain; if on their porch as i whizzed by." helen they thought her stupid she wouldn't un- smiled, comforted to remember that once deceive them. but tom! tom, puzzled she had had spirit enough. not to find her the center of everything, “you won't whizz anywhere if you sit tom, certain that a bit of “training” would and eat candy all the evening. i'm going restore to girlhood the sister he remem- to put you in training. you've no more bered as so "jolly”—tom was irresistible. life than a jelly-fish. see here, nell, i'll "climb on here, fatty,” he commanded, make a bargain with you”—tom stood up. adjusting the scales. “i'm beyond bargains, tommy," inter “take off one of those hundreds. i rupted his sister. the smile faded into the don't weigh all that!” helen winced and accustomed listlessness. “i've tried walk laughed both at once, as the platform sank ing and not walking, and eating and not under her feet. eating, and sleeping and not sleeping. i've “you're just five feet four or a bit less" gone without everything i like and i've -tom fixed her with an accusing eye- massaged my chin "for measured you two years ago when “rot!” said tommy. "you've done too amy said she was taller. you ought to many things and not stuck to any. i can weigh — not over a hundred and thirty, reduce your weight twenty-five pounds and and, helen jackson macy, you weigh this put on muscle for that fat—" minute a hundred and sixty-four, and no "in ten years?" good muscle anywhere. you'll have to the outing magazine work. it 'll be a pull at first, you're so narrow circumference of tom's room, out dopy with all that fat.” of the door, down the hall, up another the boy looked so solemnly anxious that flight, down the back stairs, across, around the laugh conquered the shudder; helen and up and down again, before car’line dis- chuckled. “what do you do all day, covered them, and helen, beholding the budd?" he asked wondering. two images in a glass, cried out in protest- “do? sometimes i market a little, but ing mirth: generally i telephone the provision men; “do stop, tom, till i get my breath. i they're very reliable. and i make beds simply cannot stay up on my toes; my and dust and fuss about. there's plenty heels will get down in spite of me; and i to do." can't clasp anything more than the tip “of course," broke in tom. “but what ends of my fingers behind my neck; and i else?” don't keep my head straight up, i know i “sometimes i go to the doctor.” don't. and it pulls on my back-it feels “what for?” like hot irons!” helen looked from the because i don't sleep very well." mirror to tom. “you may laugh," she “sleep, is it! wait till we get to work said. “i am a figure of fun." and you'll sleep fast enough. you can't tom was to be beguiled by no blandish- afford to waste a minute, old lady-my, ments of mirth. “if it hurts, that shows but you're fat!" you need it,” he announced. “and you're “and i shall still be fat after i've waved doing well. you keep it up, twice a day, my arms about and pranced all you want and as long as you can stand it every time. me to," retorted helen. she expected "i wobble frightfully. what's the neither sleep nor happiness from the boy's use prescription. a few pounds more or less “yours not to reason why,” replied the could not restore the charm of life, but she instructor. “come, get the rest. you promised all tom asked. if some discom can watch me and do 'em afterward in your fort to herself could make his vacation pleasanter it was a small price to pay. and helen watched. the boy was going heaven knew there was enough disappoint to let her off with no lady-like wavings and ment in the world, and the boy was so bendings; she began to feel a sort of con- eager! fidence in the result. certainly the things prepared and docile she presented her he was doing were easy to remember, self at the hour when hillcrest was wont to though she could not find it in her heart to make ready for bed. the center of tom's forget how ridiculous a sober matron en- room had been cleared for action, the gaged in such exercise would seem to the furniture retreated against the walls in eyes of car’line. horrified withdrawal. tom himself, steam "i told mrs. bartley-hume about these up like an enthusiastic engine, was fairly when she came to school to see dick, and panting to get under way. she wrote dick she'd tried 'em and lost five “hi,” he called, as he heard her step in pounds already.” tom was flat on his the hall, “now we're off.” back, his arms folded on his chest, and as but it appeared they were not off at all. he talked he sat up and sank, and sat up helen's costume was hopelessly wrong. again without lifting his heels from the the compromise finally effected between ground. "now, nell, if you can't do that, what she considered “respectable” and you're to tell me at once, and the rest of what tom knew to be absolutely necessary 'em any one can do. it's persevering that took time. so it was that “car’line, counts. see. this is the best. feet to- maid of all work and faithful adorer of gether, then lift 'em straight up till you "young miss,” departing to her early slum make a right angle from your hips, you bers, met in the transit of the upper hall know. and don't let your knees bend, two who marched like german soldiers at and keep your toes straight. slow and drill, each with hands clasped behind the steady, up and down. i'm going to make head. a schedule for you.” "bress de lor'!" ejaculated car'line. helen peered over his shoulder as he the two had been round and round the wrote. room.” the restoration of helen “daily, twice, night and morning. promise to tom. mornings when it rained “ . feet up: a, both together ( times); and the wind was east she first cowered in b, each separately ( times); c, alternately her warm bed, then left it with a sense together, one going up while the other of virtue. she sent short and business- goes down ( times). . sit up: a, arms at like notes to clifford, and sent them with side; b, arms folded on chest: twice each. the hope that their cheerful impersonality . prance, hands behind head-long steps.” would atone a little for previous overflows “you know that,” interpolated the sched- of emotion. as the days went on a new ule maker. “now four is thus." tom buoyancy of outlook quickened her interest wrote, “ . hump and slump ( times),” in the affairs of others and she added to the and dropped to all fours. kicking off his notes chronicle or comment, and clifford's slippers and suspending his weight from answers showed that the comments found hands and toes, he lifted and sank the bulk him receptive. but she added no love between them with the ease of the mus phrases, even when he asked, “are you not cular. well? your letters sound as if you were “all that, twice a day! i shall be dead, keeping something from me." there was tommy. surely a fat sister is better than no use in reiterating, “i love you," and "i no sister at all." helen took the schedule miss you,” she thought with a pang, to a gingerly between thumb and finger and man who knows it already and finds it as held it aloft with a grimace. little exciting as the daily air. she was tom beamed with large assurance. “you really more unhappy than before tom promised,” he said. “you were never a came, for she saw herself more clearly. quitter, budd.” how had she let herself drop out of things? when had she lost her interest in books, trustworthy she was, but it took a week in people? once she had had interest and of more heroic persistence than tom ever to spare for everything, from a town elec- knew to get the flaccid muscles of helen's tion and the thursday club to the newest once slender frame to perform the initial salad and the latest star. labors and accomplish the “ times” with clifford had found her vivid enough when out an omission night or morning. even they were first married. had she had more then, number two was not a success. to give, then? dimly it came to her that “i can just get my head off the floor like in shutting herself up with two absorp- a turtle,” she complained, “and i don't tions, clifford and a house, she had cut sleep so much better after all.” off springs that once had flowed into the “hi, there; no more sugar," interrupted stream of existence to give it surface spar- tom across the breakfast table. "can't kle or greater depth. “his life makes him you stick to cereal or chop, not both, sort grow,” she said to herself. “he is using of string it out and make it seem enough?” every power he has all the time.” and tom began anxiously and ended with a she might have grown; clifford would grin. “don't your uncle dudley do it never have played the tyrant. he had well?” he inquired complacently. never demanded a complex living. he car'line certainly viewed askance the liked simple ways. he had none of the schedule pinned to helen's wall, though it vanity that desires to “show off” in table is doubtful if she ever spelled out more than or entertainment. her time had been number one. much her own. “scand’lous!” she was heard to mutter. as the days of tom's vacation went on “they's crazy, both of 'em.” and when the self-knowledge that had been so much tom paused in the morning to call through pain grew more hopeful. there was in- helen's door, “want me to hold your an creasing pleasure in the added ease with kles for the sit-up?” and helen answered, which she could take her exercises. the “no, thanks, i put them under the dresser," plainness of the diet tom begged for as a she snorted, listening below stairs. preparation for a campaign of "standing a sort of pleasure there was for helen, high jumps" had become second nature. long bound in the tightening circle of her she even took every morning a cold splash unspoken worry, in compelling her relaxed and dash-not quite a cold plunge-with will to assert itself in the keeping of the extraordinary gusto. the outing magazine car'line's scandalization had grown to she answered a bit absently the girl's positive shame since her “young miss” had polite interpolations meant to include her joined tom on his improvised running track in their cheery nonsense, and a flush rose in the vacant lot behind the house, but the to her cheeks as she returned the letter shame had been modified by the accession to her bag. three days! saying it over to of mrs. durfee and wilhelmina van arsdal herself she glanced up at the clock as if to to the ranks of the runners. what people measure the hours, and her glance descend- who could be in their comfortable beds ing fell on clifford himself. he stood bag wanted of hard work before breakfast in hand just as she had seen him last, but “passed” poor car’line completely. his eyes, seeking a vacant spot, fell on a one morning, as the four came laughing picture very different from the one he had to the back porch, helen caught through left at his own door. the two young peo- the open window a glimpse of herself in the ple, still chattering, had not discovered him. mirror it was car’line's foible to keep nailed the light in helen's eyes and the deepening above the kitchen sink. the glimpse set flush in her cheeks only clifford saw. the her pulses beating all that day to a more blank weariness of his look changed all at cheerful tune. the glow of better health, once to a gaze that only helen could in- of greater vigor of spirit, looked back at terpret. her from the glass. that night she joined “i believe i was homesick,” was all the tom in the gymnasium he had constructed explanation he gave of his early return, in the store-room, and let him laugh himself and the telegram helen found on the tray into a cramp while she wrestled with his at home said simply: “reach new york punching-bag. she felt “fit” and ready monday morning; home for dinner. clif- for frolic. ford.” of exercise indoors or out no word went to clifford. any allusion so intimate at night in the quiet of their own room struck a note she was trying to avoid. she asked and told no more. even when the more life returned to her the more she clifford turned to her as she came toward missed him; good times seemed queerly him, a sober contentment in her eyes and incomplete without clifford. and good no thought to spare for the trimness of the times there were. tom must not be left figure that moved to meet her in the glass, to the sole society of a sister when hillcrest she answered his self-reproachful "tom abounded in young people worth knowing. has taken better care of you than i did," with the renewal of her circulation and the only with a look. but in the look all the lightness consequent on the loss of twenty things she could not trust herself to say pounds of needless flesh, helen's “dopi- spoke with an eloquence words would have ness” gave way, and eager to “make the destroyed. while he smoked and recount- boy enjoy himself,” she rallied the willing ed the ups and downs of the business youth whose very names she had half for- struggle that had kept him chained to gotten, and invented so great a variety of vexations he had never anticipated, his simple and joyous entertainment that she eyes followed her, and when she settled could turn no corner without encounter beside him in her low rocker, he pulled ing a friend. absently at the cord that roped her gown. swiftly and naturally connections with “helen,” he asked suddenly, “are you the life outside her own doors renewed glad to see me?” themselves, and after weeks that had not helen leaned forward, her hands gripped dragged in spite of clifford's absence helen tight on his nervous fingers. “if you live and tom and miss van arsdal went to a thousand years you will never know how town to buy chinese lanterns for an out glad,” she said. *clifford—” she broke of-door supper, and lunched together at an off; her hardly won restraint had a strength old-fashioned restaurant where she had that was new. been more than once with clifford. while he slipped to his knees and held her the boy and girl chattered helen reread tightly, jealously close. “i am glad-to clifford's letter that she had captured from get back to you,” he said below his breath, the postman on the way to the train. in and dwelt upon the words as one who three days he would be at home. speaks of more than miles. -- dillon wallace wins after traversing a thousand miles of unknown country, he is homeward bound w e have just had word from dillon points as a dernier ressort if things came to wallace (probably the last we the worst, and whoever strayed from the will receive till we welcome him main party carried with him a compass in person), and our many fears and anxie and rifle. ties are at rest. not only did he carry when wallace and his companion ar- out what he had intended to do with rare rived at the hudson's bay post at the patience and pluck, but with a success be mouth of the george river, they imme- yond our expectations. diately set about preparing for the second this undertaking could be divided into and most hazardous half of their under- two parts: part one, the canoe journey up taking--the six hundred mile sled-journey the nascaupee river to lake michikamau, down the northeast coast of labrador to and thence down the george river to red bay, near the extreme point. this ungava bay; part two, the trip by dog had never before been accomplished, be- sled down the labrador coast to red bay. cause the succession of deep harbors, bays the first half was the scheme of the late and inlets cutting in from the seas were leonidas hubbard, jr.; but where that thought to make the trip almost impos- ambitious explorer met untold hardshipssible. and finally death, and the whole party es that it was not impossible is proved by caped annihilation only by the tardy hand the following telegram which we have just of luck, wallace brought all his dearly received: won experience to his aid with brilliant red bay, labrador, success. he encountered all, and more, march , . of the hardships that usually befall the mr. caspar whitney, the outing magazine: man who journeys to the fringes of the left fort chimo january third, arrived earth-bitter cold, starvation, insect pests, red bay to-day; all well, good journey. etc.; his frail canoe was wrecked in a traveling here bad. dogs scarce and ex- pensive. question whether can reach es- heavy rapid and most of his outfit lost kimis point, five hundred miles farther, in when it was so cold that there was skim time for quebec steamer due april fifteenth. ice along the shores; but every difficulty i think best await whaler, battle harbor, may fifth. only served to drive him forward with dillon wallace. more determined will. the party in the beginning consisted of (a later cable from wallace informs us four men besides himself-easton, rich that he was able to obtain dogs for the ards, stanton and pete; but the forma long and lonely journey to eskimis point, tion was broken when they reached lake and will return by this overland route. michikamau, the head waters of the nas a trip in the unknown labrador occu- caupee, and wallace and easton pushed pying a year, covering a thousand miles, on alone while the others returned on their and made with canoes and dog-sleds must tracks. throughout thoroughness marked be filled with interest and red-blooded every move; fish and game were added to adventure, and as soon as dillon wallace the regular "grub” supply at every op returns to civilization his thrilling narra- portunity; food was cached at important tive will be put before our readers. the weasel and his victims again by john burroughs mori tore light is thrown upon the question had come, and there crouched down, shiver- which i discussed in the february ing with apparent fear. mr. kerr was at number of this magazine by the letters first at a loss to know what had disturbed i have recently received from unknown the rat, but in a little while noticed a correspondents, one from kansas and one weasel coming along the cellar floor and on from alaska. the incidents given agree the track of the rat. the weasel came so well with my own observations that much more slowly than the rat had come, i have no doubt about their truth. the as it had to follow the trail entirely by skagueay correspondent writes: “the man scent. mr. kerr was standing near the ners in which the slim and aggressive rat all this time and watching it. as the weasel catches the rabbit may be many, weasel drew near the stairway, the rat be- but on two occasions i saw the deed done. gan to scream again. by this time the the first time i was driving across a field weasel saw mr. kerr. it stopped for a of wheat stubble in the west of england, moment and eyed him intently, and then, and hearing the scream of a rabbit, i looked as if in contempt of him, passed on and about for the cause, and saw a weasel chas rushed upon the rat with a ferocity and ing one with leaps and bounds somewhat indifference almost incredible for so small like the movements of a snake, but more an animal. the rat simply cowered and rapid. the rabbit finally stopped, appar screamed and made no resistance whatever. ently from fear, and the weasel caught it the weasel seized the rat around the neck and had killed it before i got near them, with its forepaws and fastened its teeth in when i reached them, i jumped out and the rat's throat in a mere instant of time, picked up the rabbit with the weasel still and the struggle was over before it could holding fast, but i finally shook it off and be said to have fairly begun. it hid itself in a thorn hedge near by. hav "that an animal so combative as the rat, ing no use for the rabbit, i dropped it on and especially one so large as the one in the ground and drove on a bit, when i the present instance (for it was, if any. stopped and looked back, curious to see thing, heavier than the weasel) should yield what would happen. the weasel, feeling without a struggle, mr. kerr says, filled safe and no doubt hungry, returned to its him with astonishment, as did also the fact kill and dragged it into the long grasses and that the rat, though having a free field and plants of the hedgerow. abundance of time to fly out of the cellar, "another time, while musing and anon or to seek refuge elsewhere in the many holes casting a fly over the placid waters of a in the walls of the cellar, failed to do so. favorite trout stream in the same locality, he says he scarcely could have credited i was startled by a rabbit jumping into the the transaction had it been related to him pool and swimming to the other side, and by others and not seen by himself, and he followed in a moment or so by a weasel, who regards it as one of the strangest and most also took to the water, being so close that he unexpected experiences of his life, and he evidently saw the rabbit. they both dis has been a man of much experience and appeared in the vegetation beyond, but affairs." hearing the rabbit's plaintive cry shortly very recently in my own neighborhood, after was evidence to me that another two hunters well known to me were in the tragedy had been enacted.” woods when they saw what they at first my kansas correspondent, a lawyer, tells took to be two red squirrels chasing each me of an incident related to him by an old other around the bole of a tree. on coming pennsylvania friend, a man of prominence nearer, they saw that there was but one red and absolutely reliable. this time the squirrel, and that it was being hotly chased weasel was pursuing a rat. while stand by a weasel. the squirrel was nearly tired ing in a large cellar under a stone work, he out and must soon have fallen a victim to heard a rat scream with the most evident its arch enemy had not the hunters shot the fear and distress. “looking in the direction weasel. why the squirrel did not lead off of the noise, he saw a very large store rat through the tree tops, where the weasel running rapidly along the cellar floor and could not have followed him, is another in- up the stairway; the rat went to the outer stance of the mystery that envelops this edge, so as to look back over the track it question. - -- making the country home receipts for fungicides and insecticides-garden hints-care of the lawn by eben e. rexford the regular spraying of fruit-producing prepare the sulphate as follows: weigh out the amount carefully, as proper pro- practiced by all up-to-date growers to-day, portions must be observed in order to pro- and the man who grows fruit, even in small duce best results. put in a coarse sack- quantities, cannot afford to shut his eyes one of burlap will answer all purposes--and to the benefits which result from the prac suspend it in its tank, into which should tice. the expense is small, the benefit be put one gallon of water to each pound great. quite often the entire crop will of sulphate. let it remain until dissolved. depend on what is done along this line, stir well before putting in its diluting tank. and the quality always. for bacteria and strain off the two solutions into their re- fungi have become so prevalent that no spective tanks, and add water enough to man's orchard or garden can escape their make the quantity in each equal gallons attacks. for each pounds of lime and sulphate- experienced fruit-growers advise spray or gallons in both, when the two solu- ing once before bloom, ten days after bloom tions are combined. stir thoroughly. and again ten days later, with a fourth the solutions are now ready to be put spraying in about two weeks; other spray into the mixing tank. they should be ings at intervals, as may seem advisable. strained again when this is done, as a small În spraying before bloom, go over the quantity of sediment will cause a world of plants so thoroughly that not a portion of trouble when you come to make use of the them escapes. this is important. but do sprayer. stir until a thorough union of not confine the application to the plants. the lime and sulphate solutions is secured. spray the posts which support them, and paris green is much used in combination the soil about them. bacteria are not con with bordeaux infixture, generally in the fined to the plants by any means. proportion of pound to gallons of water, there are several spraying mixtures in the object being to “kill two birds with one use among fruit-growers, but most of them stone"-in other words, insects and fun- pin their faith to bordeaux mixture. goid diseases, for which one application of this, from years of trial and many experi the combined remedies answers the purpose ments, they consider safer than any other, of two when they are used separately. cheaper and quite as effective. here is a condensed guide for spraying standard bordeaux mixture consists of which the amateur fruit-grower will do well pounds copper sulphate and pounds to make a memorandum of: fresh lime, diluted with gallons of water. for scab, codlin moth and bud moth, here are directions for preparing it, as on apple trees: bordeaux mixture and furnished me by one of our most successful paris green, in proportions given above, fruit-growers: at intervals as advised. prepare two vessels—one for the lime, for cabbage-worm, use paris green alone and one for the sulphate--and have them when the worm first appears. for leaf- so elevated that the liquid can be drawn off. blight, rot and mildew, bordeaux mixture from the bottom of them, through a valve. as soon as indications of either disease are prepare two other tanks into which to empty seen. repeat as seems necessary. the liquid for dilution, and a larger tank to for plums, grapes and kindred fruit: contain the two elements, when ready for bordeaux mixture before bloom, after mixing: bloom and at intervals thereafter, as ad- weigh out the pounds of lime accu vised above, if the trouble continues. rately, and put it into its tank, and cover for potatoes: bordeaux mixture and with water in the proportion of i gallon to paris green in combination. this will de- each pounds of lime. stir frequently, to stroy the potato bug, and prevent blight. prevent its burning, while slaking. when the easy and effective application of thoroughly slaked, draw off the liquid, fungicides and insecticides depends largely passing it through a fine strainer. be very on the sprayer you use. get one that vill particular in doing this, as a poorly strained throw a good stream, when needed, to a mixture will clog the sprayer and cause height of fifteen or twenty feet. have sev- no end of annoyance. eral nozzles, graduated from a stream to the outing magazine a fine spray. for small places, where spray- ing is contined to small fruit and vegetables, there is an automatic sprayer which oper- ates by air-pressure. all you have to do is to give a few strokes of the plunger, after putting your mixture into the tank. this forces in air enough to force the mixture out in spray or stream, as you may elect, without any labor on your part. it con- tinues to operate until the pressure runs down, after which you will have to recharge the machine. it will be well to look to the shade trees early in the season. the gypsy moth, which infested maples in many parts of the country late last fall, may have left eggs which escaped the application of insecticide advised at that time. i would advise going over these trees this month with the follow- ing preparation, which i have found better than anything else i have ever tried: melt a pound of ivory soap and mix with it, while quite warm, one pint of kerosene. agitate until complete union takes place. the mixture can then be added to twelve quarts of water. an emulsion will readily be formed by the operation of the sprayer. spray, the trees thoroughly among their branches, but scrub their trunks, using for this part of the work a stiff-bristled scrub- bing-brush, with handle inserted in side in- stead of top. this will enable you to get the emulsion well in among the bark, where eggs may have been deposited. if insects appear, repeat the application. În fighting tree enemies, not much can be accomplished in town or village where residences are close together, unless all property owners work in union with each other. if a and c will do nothing to rout the pest, b's efforts will count for little. here is where community interests should prompt each lot owner to co-operate heart- ily with his neighbor. the thumb and finger of the right hand. in this way you can do the work expedi- tiously, easily and well. after the plants are in place, water them well. then draw some dry earth over the wet soil to retard evaporation. if the next day should be a warm, sun- shiny one, shade may be needed for the newly set plants. i make a “shader" that answers all purposes admirably in this way: i cut circular pieces from stiff brown paper, about ten inches across. from these pieces i cut out about a quarter, in a wedge-shaped piece, letting the point of the wedge extend to the center of the paper. then i bring the paper together, so that the sides from which the wedge was taken overlap each other about an inch, and in and out through this lap. i run a small stick or a wire. this holds the paper together, while the lower end of the stick or wire—which should extend five or six : inches below the paper-can be thrust into the soil on the sunward side of the plant in such a manner that it will hold the little “umbrella" just where you want it to stay, far enough above the soil to admit of a free circulation of air about the plant beneath. never make use of pots, pans or boxes in shading plants, as the heat from the sun strikes through them, and is retained about the poor plant in such a way that it suffers more than it would if exposed to the sun, with a free circulation of air about it. begin weeding as soon as weeds appear. it is much easier to keep them down than it is to get rid of them after they have had a month or two to grow in. use the cultivator freely. stir the soil often and it will not dry out readily. the farmer cultivates his corn oftener in a dry spell than in a damp season, because he knows that keeping the soil open enables it to absorb whatever moisture happens to be in the air, while a soil that is crusted over is unable to do anything. the same principle applies to the garden. garden hints lawn hints in removing plants from the cold-frame and putting them out in the garden beds, choose a damp, cloudy day for the work if possible. in case no days of this kind happen along when you are ready for trans- planting, do the work after sundown. before taking the plants to be put into the ground from the cold-frame, go over the beds where they are to be set with a stick having an end that tapers to a point, and make holes to receive them. these holes should be as deep as the roots of the plants are long. then lift your plants from the frame, taking care to disturb their roots as little as possible. spread them out evenly on a pan or board, so that each one can be separated from its neighbor with very little trouble. never handle the roots if you can help it. take the plant in the left hand, holding it lightly by its top, and drop the roots into the hole made for it. pinch the soil together about them with rake the dead leaves from the lawn as soon as you can get on to it without leaving a foot-mark in the damp soil. do this carefully, to avoid tearing the sward, which is easily injured at this season. apply a good fertilizer. use it liberally, in order to secure a rich, velvety sward. that is something you cannot have unless you use good food, and plenty of it. i would advise a commercial fertilizer, as barnyard manure will bring in weeds, and they are the last things one cares to in- troduce to his lawn. there will be enough of these in spite of all your efforts to pre- vent them from coming to keep you busy in trying to get rid of them. dandelions should be cut off below the crown, with a thin-bladed knife or a pointed hoe. simply clipping their tops will do no good what- how to harness, saddle and bridle your horse ever. plantain, so far as my experience goes, cannot be eradicated from any lawn. it is there to stay. but it can be kept down by close mowing. a lawn without weeds calls for the services of a gardener who can devote his entire time to it. most of us cannot afford this expense, but we can have pretty lawns, even though there are some weeds in them, if we keep the grass growing luxuriantly, and give them the regular attention they demand, in the way of mowing and raking. every owner of a lawn, no matter how small it may be, should provide himself with a lawn mower of the very best kind. it is a mistake to think that any kind of a mower “will do.” of course it will do if it has to, but the quality of work done with it will be most unsatisfactory. get a machine that has blades enough to clip the grass smoothly and evenly, and that runs with little friction. the ball-bearing mowers of to-day run so easily that a five- year-old can operate them. such a mower will make but little noise, and the good work it will do will make the mowing of the lawn a pleasure. keep it well oiled. this makes it run easy, enables it to do the best of work, and prolongs the life of the machine indefinitely. keep the knives sharp: you can haggle off the grass with a dull mower, but it will look as if gnawed off—rough, uneven and unsightly. but a mower whose knives cut sharply and smoothly will leave the sward looking like velvet. some persons advise raking after each mowing. i do not, because the clippings drop down into the grass and form a mulch which i consider of great benefit. they also help to fertilize the soil. the lawn that is not mowed often enough will not look well, after you have been over it with the mower, because there was growth enough to partially hide the sward upon which it falls. this will wither and turn brown in a day or two and greatly detract from the beauty of the lawn. but if you keep your lawn well mowed—and that means going over it at least three times a week in ordinary seasons—the amount clipped off at each mowing will be so slight that there will not be enough of it to show. do not set the knives so low that they shave the soil. this practice will soon spoil a lawn, as it interferes with the crown of the grass plants. it clips away the blades of grass which spring from the sur- face, and destroys all that part of the plant upon which we must depend for color and soft, plush-like effect. let the blades be set high enough to leave at least two inches of the foliage. a correspondent writes to ask if there is not some application which will kill weeds in the lawn. she has been told that there is. i suppose there are a good many things that will do this, but i know of nothing that will kill the weeds without injuring the grass about them. it stands to reason that what will kill one plant would be quite likely to kill another. the only way to get rid of a weed is to pull it up, cut it off so that it will not sprout again, or apply something to it, individually, that will pre- vent it from developing. do not be de- ceived by any advertiser who claims to have something that has a special affinity for weeds, and will not injure the sward around them, if sown broadcast. how to harness, saddle and bridle your horse by f. m. ware we nurses thandsomets tanapaastefully single ber ihopairs , tet cth and wehicles arrange owe it to ourselves to caparison our even more should we concern ourselves with the careful fit and comfortable plac- ing of the equipments thus provided-as well from the selfish reasons of economy and utility, as from the nobler sentiments of humanity. no man, woman or child should allow themselves (or be permitted) to use horses unless thoroughly familiar with all the operations of harnessing, sad- dling, etc., including perfect knowledge of how to fit and to put on the harness or the saddle and bridle; how to put all har- ness together properly; the value and re- lation of every strap and buckle; how to coupling-reins, traces, etc., etc., in order to get the best working results. there is no harness made that can com- pare with the american trotting man's road harness. it adorns and never dis- guises. it is practical to the limit, with- out one superfluous buckle or strap, is easy everywhere; its bits are as varied in effect as they are comfortable and com- mon-sense; its blinkers, pads, etc., light, slight and airy; its improvement, at any point, is impossible. just why we prefer the unnecessarily heavy english-patterned harness, vehicles, the outing magazine etc., is hard to explain. however, we do prefer them, and therefore scant consider- ation can be given to our native fash- ions, and fad again scores over fitness and utility. the single harness (this is written for novices, of course) consists of the bridle, in- cluding crown-piece, blinkers, brow-band, nose-band, check and bit, throat-lash, curb-bit (of two or three styles only) and chain; the collar (or the dutch or breast collar); the pad with its accompanying back-band, tugs, girth, belly-band, back- strap, crupper, breeching or kicking strap; the hames with its traces, and two hames- straps, or a strap at top, and a kidney- link or chain atº bottom, and its breast plate. these must all be kept soft and pliant, and the whole harness must be apa propriate in size and make for the horse, and for the carriage to which he is put. to begin with the bridle: never jam one on a horse's head and then by varied jerks and tugs let it out here and there until it fits. much better have it too big than too small. taking the bridle by the top with the right hand, seize the left side of the bits in your left; slide the bridle up over the nose, and as your left hand comes to the mouth-angle, slip your thumb gently inside, and press lightly on the bar of the jaw; his mouth will at once open, the bits slip easily into place, your right hand hitches the head stall over the right ear, and your left helps the left ear under and straightens the forelock. spring the blink- ers a trifle if they set too close. bridle so that the bit hangs properly, (about an inch above the tushes); buckle your throat-lash and nose-band, both of which are unbuckled until now, twist flat the curb-chain, and take it up, rather loosely (so that say three fingers will slip between it and the chin). the nose-band goes inside the check-rein; and this check-rein should be adjusted as to length the last thing before putting-to, and left loose rath- er than tight, until exercise has warmed the neck muscles. notice especially that the brow-band is not so short as to draw the crown-piece uncomfortably close to the horse's ears; or so long as to let the bri- dle work back on the crest. buckle the throat-lash loosely, leaving room for three or more fingers to pass freely. see that the check-pieces set close to the cheeks, and that the mouth-angles and lips are not wrinkled and crushed in against the teeth, as is the case when the bridle is too short or the bit narrow. be certain that the bits are not too wide nor too narrow. the english-pattern harness is deficient in va- riety of bits, since (if we exclude the four- ring snaffle, and bits with ports, etc.) all mouth-pieces are nearly of the same shape. many horses drive most unpleasantly in these bits, but are delightful when wearing our native, easy and intelligible arrange- ments. the standing-martingale is a mere orna- ment as generally applied, and no horse that needs it is suitable for a gentleman's pleasure-driving the collar must fit, and every horse should have his own (and indeed his own bridle as well). it must fit snugly, be thick and broad where the draft comes, smooth over the top, and rather straight than bent. our average horse has not the best of slanting shoulders, and the bent collars are likely to chafe them on top of the neck. an occasional horse will be so large of head that his collar must open at the top, when it is confined by a strap and buckle. the hames should always be taken off the collar, and that article sprung over the knee before putting on. to put on, turn upside down, stand before the horse, and slip it gently over his head, stopping if it jams anywhere, and again springing it until it goes easily; turn it (with the mane) on the neck behind the ears, and slide into place. the hames are usually replaced be- fore turning, and tightly fastened. place the pad quietly over the back, step behind, seize the tail, carefully gathering all the hair in the left hand, and with the right slip the crupper over it, and snugly up to the top of the dock; retaining the back-strap in the right hand to keep the crupper in place, step up to the pad and lift it into place, just back of the swell of the withers, and where it will girth about five inches behind the elbows. be sure that the back-strap lies loosely along the back, and never leave it tight to draw the crupper sharply under the tail. more bad kicking scrapes arise from this oversight than from all other causes put together. see that the pad is well stuffed and sets clear of the backbone, and draw the girth fairly tight. since this harness is often used without breeching, there is a custom of drawing the belly-band or shaft girth mercilessly tight, and much suffering is caused from this cruel and useless practice. the length of your tugs, of your traces, etc., will depend upon the vehicle you are to use, and your horse's appropriate dis- tance from his work. to put on the double harness one pro- ceeds in the same way, and should know instinctively which is the near and which the off "side" or set, and how the one differs from the other-matters which two minutes' study of the articles hanging on their pegs will clearly show him. mono- grams or other devices are usual, nowa- days, on both sides of blinkers, pads, etc. the inside traces are generally a half hole shorter than the other, or (better) the space is made up by the inside roller bolts on the vehicle being larger; the kidney- link rings work inside the respective breast plates; the direct reins lead to the outside of each horse's mouth, and the coupling- reins cross over on to the respective insides of the bites. capable "putting together" fit your how to harness, saddle and bridle your horse of horses is quite an art, and is effected by judicious combinations of the effects of bits, coupling-reins, traces and pole-straps. bits should be large and smooth of mouth- piece, as well as properly fitted, and as light and comfortable as may be. hardly any horse needs the reins in the middle bar, and none, fit to drive at all, in the lower. the cheek answers for many; then the half-cheek with a slack chain; then the half-cheek with a tighter-to-tight chain; then the slack-chain, with the nose-band taken up tight (this should always have plenty of holes close together, for it is not meant for an ornament only, but for a very important part of the practical bridle); then the tight chain and band; then the twisted chain and band; then the same varying arrangements with the reins in the middle bar. interspersed with each one of these changes is the raising or lowering of the bit, by means of shortening or length- ening the cheek-pieces of the bridle, until just the right spot is found--and, by the way, take five minutes and study that marvelous arrangement of paper-skin and barely covered and quivering nerves, which covers the inside of your horse's lower jaw, and never forget what agony you are in- flicting if you roughly handle that most delicately sensitive member. no puller was ever born—we have made them all, more shame to us. the various arrange- ments of ports, etc., on curb-bits are hide- ously cruel. a thick mouth-piece well covered with cloth rubber or soft leather has reformed more "pullers" than all the contraptions ever invented, and the whole secret is in making the animal ordinarily comfortable. the riding saddle should be roomy every: where, and especially so in the panels if you are a heavy man, that your weight may be well distributed. the throat should not be so narrow as to cause pain, or so broad as to wabble about. plain flaps are most comfortable and workmanlike, and if knee-rolls are used, and in addition the seat has a deep dip or depression, the article is restricted to men of a certain length of thigh; whereas with the plain flap and nearly flat seat a boy or a full- grown man is equally well seated. there is no saddle to be preferred to the best english shape, and aïl military saddles are approaching its lines. a felt pad or saddle- cloth should always be used, cut to closely fit the saddle outline. this will prevent all bruises or chafes; will be washed, beaten and sunned as a saddle lining rarely is, and if two or three duplicates are kept, one is always sure that his horse is comfort- ably caparisoned, with a dry and soft pad bearing evenly everywhere. the stirrups should always be open, wide and heavy, that they may not hang to the foot in case of a fall. woolen girths are softest and most easily washed and dried. the saddle will set more steadily, and remain where it should with the girths quite loose, if the girth-points are replaced, one as far forward and one as far back as possible. when girthing the horse cross these girths, the rear one on to the forward point, the other to the rear point, and they will thus bind on each other under the horse's chest, and give a very firm placing, besides re- moving the girth buckles from directly under the thigh. for every reason (save the conventional) very long girth-points and very short girths are preferable, as thus they may be buckled without raising the saddle flap at all; and in the same way. stirrup-leathers may be single instead of double to greatly enhanced comfort, work- ing on a loop over the stirrup-bar. simi- larly the best way to hang any stirrup is under the saddle fiap, not over it as is usu- ally done, thus getting rid of the uncom- fortable feel of it under the knee. true, one may be dragged if thrown, because the stirrup thus cannot come off the d, but then how often does it ever do that any- how, except when you particularly do not wish it? the closer you can get to your horse the more "sticky” your seat. a properly fitting saddle will work into its place without girthing, and this is about three inches further back than the average groom puts it. it should always be placed well forward of the proper spot, and slid back into position. if you want to learn just where that is, walk the horse about fifteen steps before girthing, and tighten your girths when he has put it where it be- longs. always leave your girths so that the fingers slip easily between them and the ribs, and see that the girths are no- where near the elbows, which they will chafe badly if they touch. a man's sad- dle never needs tight girthing if it fits. be careful that the padding is plentiful, thus avoiding possibly permanent blemishes. always remove the saddle at once when the horse comes in and plentifully bathe the back with cold water where the saddle rests, following, if you can, by an alcohol shampoo. both of these applications close the pores at once, and prevent all blistering. if you are of the many who think that a saddle should be left on until the back is dry, do not loosen the girths, but tighten them severely to thus compen- sate by pressure for the removal of your own weight. a lady's saddle should always have a "balance strap” on the off side to keep it straight, or what is far better, the stirrup- strap should continue round the horse and buckle where the balance strap hangs, from the off side of the cantle. thus, as the lady puts her weight (as in trotting) on the stirrup the saddle receives a pull each time on the off-side, which keeps it straight. such saddles should always be used with felt pads if the back is to endure. if these pads are girthed on separately with a thin surcingle, they remain station- the outing magazine ary, and the saddle, if it shifts, turns on you slip off the halter the reins afford con- the pad, and not on the back. the off trol of him. put on the bridle as described side padding under the pommel needs con in harnessing, always gently opening the stant watching. a level seat is far the jaws by inserting the thumb of the left best, as it suits equally a very small or a hand in the angle; clear the ears, draw very large person, while a dipped seat very the foretop smoothly over the brow-band; sharply defines the size of the person who buckle the throat-lash very loosely — it can use it. should hang down several inches from the while a lady's horse must be tightly throat (in fact it is quite a useless ap- girthed, care must be used that this does pendage to any bridle). the bridoon not proceed to extremes, or discomfort will should lie snugly in the mouth corners cause the animal to lose all elasticity of without touching the lip angles; the curb motion, and probably to finally lie down rests about an inch above the tushes (or a very common result. after one has been where they should be mares do not have riding for a half hour or so all girths will them). the curb-chain lies flat in the need taking up, and many accidents will chin groove, and should be large; no horse be saved if all equestrians will always take should ever be led with this fastened; with this precaution. girths should also be many it is best to cover it with chamois- tested after the rider has been mounted skin. the chain always goes outside of for a few minutes, as horses learn the trick the snaffle, and when linked so that a slight of swelling themselves out. some old pressure on the reins affects the jaw it is, rogues need to have their heads held very for the average horse, about right. always high when being girthed, to prevent their err upon the side of slackness if you would getting the muscular brace which enables get on comfortably with your mount. them thus to distend themselves. the position of the two bits, the length two bits only are useful in riding—the of chain and the tightness of the nose- curb and the bridoon (or snaffle). the band will vary with every horse, and with curb-bit alone is practically useless; the the same horse very frequently, depending snaffle alone, in some one of its vary upon his mood. very often in the same ing combinations, will suit and hold any ride an animal may be made over, as it were, horse, but will not serve to keep him as by slight changes in the bitting arrange- light in hand as the curb and bridoon (or ments. the nose-band for the average "full bridle'') does. snaffles come large mouth need never be tight, and a hole or and small, jointed or plain, smooth or two greatly increases the severity of the rough, twisted, chain, leather or rubber bitting, from the fact that the horse can- covered, and combine with martingales, not open his mouth to escape it. there- nose-bands, running reins and other ar fore, in the hands of the novice, a nose ringements into dozens of varied appli- band is a rather dangerous article. per- ances. all saddle horses should be ridden sonally, the writer always hangs the bri- in the "full bridle,” and any martingale or doon lower than the average equestrian other contrivance is an evidence of bad does, and finds that he gets better results. manners, and that the animal is not bal trainers raise and lower the curb bit con- anced. the nose-band should always stantly, but never touch the snaffle (or work on its own head-stall, which is called bridoon). a “cavesson nose-band”; is meant for use, the more simple the means we use with not ornament, and should therefore hang the horse the quicker we educate him, and much lower than it generally does, and be the more willingly he serves us. make full of holes, close together, that its cir him comfortable in every way; we under- cumference may be altered by fractions of rate the various forms of the snaffle bit an inch. the head-stall should be light most unwisely, and as it is the simplest and plainly finished; the reins thin and and easiest, so it is the most practically very pliant; the bits large in the mouth valuable, especially for the average eques- pieces and just the right width; the curb trian, who is not and does not care to take with a slight port, and about three inches the trouble to become a highly finished in its lower branch, and one and a half to rider. the trouble with the books, etc., two inches in its upper; the bridoon with on equestrianism is that they shoot away not the usual small rings, but with extra over the heads of the tyro, bewilder him, branches to which the head-stall buckles and mask the acquirement of a very simple and which keep the bit in place, as the or accomplishment, for that is the curious dinary rings do not; the chain-hooks flat. thing about all horsemanship—the sim- to put on the bridle, pass the reins over plicity of it, and the strange obtuseness the head, and leave them just behind the which for so long prevents us from recog- ears, so that if the horse pulls away when nizing the fact. rod and and gun the forest reserves as breed of cattle in captivity. the national government has embarked in the enter- breeding places prise of restoring a small herd of these ani- mals in the yellowstone national park, for wild life but in that severe climate and high alti- tude the increase is slow. in view of the by john f. lacey * success of the indians in preserving and multiplying the herd upon the flathead "he preservation and propagation of reservation, there is much reason for en- game have in most countries met with couragement as to the yellowstone herd, much hostility among the people. the because the climate and elevation are laws have been stringent and severe, and ncarly the same. on the flathead reser- their enforcement has been harsh and un vation there are three hundred and forty- popular. the norman conquerors of eng two buffaloes, about equally divided be- land destroyed many fine farms to plant tween the sexes. this number remains the new forest for the royal pleasure. after the sale of a considerable number to from the time when william shakespeare howard eaton a few years ago. was prosecuted for poaching, down to the the buffalo should be preserved and re- present day, game laws have met with de newed in the forest reserves. the num- termined opposition. harriet martineau's ber remaining are but few. fortunately spirited attacks upon these laws in england the little flocks in captivity are widely aided in bringing her voluminous writ scattered, so that no unexpected epidemic ings into popularity. she struck a popular can suddenly complete their extermination. chord with the general public. the austin corbin herd at meriden, n. those laws in the old world were enacted h., now numbers one hundred and fifty- for the comfort of a privileged class, and it four fine animals, one-half of which are was hardly to be expected that the poor males. the new herd in the yellowstone would obey, without complaint, laws which park was started a few years ago with protected the wild creatures from the fowl eighteen cows from the flathead herd, ing pieces and snares of the poor, in order and three bulls from the goodnight herd in that there might be sport for the nobility. texas. three calves have since been cap- but in america no such invidious dis tured from the wild herd in the mountains, tinction exists, and the preservation of our and the total number now is forty-three. birds and game becomes a matter of gen they are inclosed in a large field near the eral interest to all, to rich and poor alike. mammoth hot springs, and form one of the whole continent was once a vast the most interesting spectacles in the park. park filled with wild life in forest, moun the wild buffaloes in the park at the time tain and plain, whilst the air was alive of its reservation numbered about four with the feathered flocks. the preservation hundred. the poachers and hide hunters of these creatures was long neglected, be pursued them remorselessly until tardily cause their innumerable multitude seemed enacted laws put an end to the nefarious to make it impossible that they should ever traffic. concealed in the most unfre- be exterminated. quented part of the park, the calves ex- with the disappearance of the wild posed to wolves and mountain lions, the pigeon and the buffalo, and the reduc number has steadily declined. six were tion of many other species to the point found dead in the deep snow last spring, indicating the near approach of extermi and only about twenty remain alive. nation, the conscience of the people has the flathead herd in montana, when become quickened on this subject, and a divided and partly sold a few years ago, sympathetic public has begun to view this had increased to nearly three hundred. question in an entirely different light. sen. they were the progeny of about thirty- timent and utility have joined hands. five calves saved by the indians at the time as to many of our birds and beasts, the of the final general slaughter, when the hide problem now is how to prevent complete hunters were engaged in their deadly work. extinction. of the countless millions of it was a profitable business venture, for the wild pigeons that once darkened the air animals are now worth two hundred and and enlivened the woods, only a few hun fifty dollars and upward a piece. dred at most seem to be alive, and even hon. james philip (best known among their existence is a subject of controversy. his friends as “scotty" philip) has a herd, there are enough buffaloes still remaining near ft. pierre, s. d., which has increased to prevent complete extermination, and from seven calves to one hundred and eigh- probably ultimately to supply a very useful teen. they are in a climate and locality admirably adapted to the buffalo, among * the hon. john f. lacey, m. c. from iowa, is fa- ther of the bill which bears his name and has done so the bluffs of the upper missouri river. much in the cause of game protection. --the editor. these animals are magnificent specimens of the outing magazine at the pure plains breed.* the goodnight at the regular session of congress in , herd' in texas now number forty-four. president roosevelt, in his annual mes- i wish in this article to present what ap sage, called the attention of congress to pears to me a practical means of partially this subject in the following statement: undoing the work of devastation which has "the increase in deer, elk and other animals in gone so near the point of complete extermi the yellowstone park shows what may be expected nation. when other mountain forests are properly protected the destruction of our forests has been by law and properly guarded. some of these areas have been so denuded of surface vegetation by over- going on at so great a rate as to alarm the grazing that the ground-breeding birds, including public mind and prepare the people to ac grouse and quail, and many mammals, including cept some remedy. deer, have been exterminated or driven away. the interests of irrigation and naviga- the same time the water-storing capacity of the sur- face has been decreased or destroyed, thus promot- tion have called attention to the necessity ing floods in time of rain and diminishing the flow of streams between rains. of preserving the sources of our water "some at least of the forest reserves should afford courses by retaining or restoring the for perpetual protection to the native fauna and flora, ests from which they flow. safe havens of refuge to our rapidly diminishing wild fortunately many millions of acres of animals of the larger kinds, and free camping grounds for the ever-increasing numbers of men and women wooded lands are still held by the national who have learned to find rest, health and recrea- government, and about , , acres of tion in the splendid forests and flower-clad meadows these lands have been set apart in eighty- of our mountains. three permanent national forest reserves. bills have been introduced to carry out the primary purpose of these reservations this humane suggestion, but up to the is to conserve the streams and provide present time only one of them has been means of irrigation, and also, in some de enacted into law; but the more the ques- gree, to influence the rainfall. they are tion is considered, the more favorably the well scattered in the far west, and are gener proposition is being viewed in the localities ally upon land which is of little value for to be the most immediately affected and agricultural uses. benefited. the choice is plain. some they are reserved for the use of man and must be protected or all will be destroyed. not reserved from his use. the ripened the wichita forest reserve of , trees will be cut as they may be needed. acres, in oklahoma, has been made a game there has been much local opposition to preserve with the hearty approval of the many of these reservations, but time and people of that proposed state, and the observation have greatly changed the local millions of people who will soon inhabit sentiment. the experimental stage has that great commonwealth will enjoy the passed and they can therefore be accepted benefits of that wise measure of protection. as an established fact, and the question if the proposed bill should become a law, naturally arises as to what extent they may the small band of elk in the olympic forest be utilized for the preservation of the re reserve in the state of washington could mains of our birds, fish, and game and be be saved from menaced extermination. * used as sources of propagation and supply. deer have become quite plentiful in the at least a portion of these lands should be woods and mountains of vermont, and an so used. the writer of this article has for overflow has migrated into massachusetts many years endeavored to secure legisla and connecticut, and they have even tion to this end. wyoming has shown her reached the shores of long island sound. sympathy with the movement by declaring such results in an old settled country a permanently closed season in that part like vermont show what could be done by of the forest reserves adjacent to the yel a fair degree of protection in our national lowstone national park. forest reserves. if some plan of this kind is not adopted, in the state of vermont the writer has there will soon be very few game birds been informed by senator redfield proctor or game animals anywhere in the united and game commissioner h. g. thomas states, except in the narrow limits of pri that in deer had been practically ex- vate preserves. if these national reserves terminated in the state for many years. are utilized as propagating grounds, there a syndicate of public-spirited gentle- will be an overflow from them which will men secured the enactment of a closed enure to the benefit of the general public. season for deer, and imported and released the game which wander beyond the pro seventeen of these beautiful animals for tected boundary in the open seasons will propagation. in an open season for furnish supplies to the surrounding popu bucks only during october was permitted, lation, whilst the sources of supply will be and afterward for the last ten days only undisturbed. instead of a general war of of each october. the possibilities of deer extermination being waged in every part restoration have been shown by the re- of the country, there will be havens of sults. in , one hundred and three refuge from which a permanent source of were killed in the open season; in , supply may be assured in the future. one hundred and thirty-one; in , ninety; * congress a few weeks ago authorized the land * european game birds, such as the black cock de rtment lease to mr. nilip . acres of and the great bustard, should introduced into the public bluff lands for an increased range for his herd. wichita reserve, and no doubt this will be done.- -the editor. the editor. rod and gun this unlimited power to travel and kill should be also bounded by the limitations of the law. the necessity for protection increases as the powers of man to kill have increased. with the bloody breech-loader and abominable automatic gun of the pres- ent day, extermination is an easy thing. in fact, with long-range, rapid-firing guns in the hands of inexperienced hunters, it is dangerous alike for man or beast to go into the woods in the open season in wisconsin, minnesota or maine. it is to be hoped that the people of the pacific coast will profit by the experience of their atlantic ancestors, and not permit their salmon streams to become as barren as the once prolific connecticut now is. the forest reserves have had additions during the past year of , , acres, bringing up the grand total to , , acres, exceeding the area of iowa and mis- souri combined. not the least important of the uses of this vast domain should be to give shelter to a remnant of that wonderful wild life that once filled this continent. he reports hints on terminal tackle by clarence deming in , one hundred and twenty-three; in , two hundred and eleven; in , four hundred and three; in , seven hundred and fifty-three; in , five hun- dred and thirty-one. in the open season was reduced to six days, and there were killed four hundred and ninety-five in that short period. a good many animals were illegally killed during these years, as there were reported three hundred and fifty-seven thus killed, and no doubt some were killed without being reported. ex-congressman billmyer of washing, tonville, pennsylvania, recently reported to the writer remarkable results of deer propagation. he has a little private re- serve of only forty acres, safely inclosed, in which he, seven years ago, placed three elk and six deer. in six and a half years the elk had increased to thirteen, and the deer to about one hundred. that the fawns were almost invariably twins, and that his little flock was worth $ , , showing the profitable nature of the investment from a purely commercial stand- point. this rapid increase seems almost incredible, but the surroundings were the most favorable and the animals were well supplied with food. such examples as these show that if proper protection is given in the forest reserves, the land out- side, and for many miles beyond their boundaries, will again be well supplied. the inhabitants in the surrounding settlements will help to protect and guard this source of supply instead of hastening to destroy it. many of the streams in these reserves are well stocked with trout and other fish. fish are marvelously prolific. no radical or extreme measures of protection are needed to preserve them from extinction, but reasonable closed seasons and limita- tions upon the size and number of those caught, and enforcement of laws and regu- lations against dynamiting or other bar- barous methods of fishing, would keep these streams as permanent and constant supply stations, with which to restock the water courses that there find their source. national forestry is tree cultivation upon a large scale, covering long periods of time, for which the lives of individuals would be inadequate. scientific forestry has taken a firm hold in france and germany. the destruction of streams and farms by the washing of sand and gravel, caused by the wholesale cutting down of the woods, has called the attention of the people of the old world to the necessity of reforesting the waste lands. the people of the united states are awakening upon this question at a much earlier period than did our kin- folk across the sea. now that any one can put his dogs and gun into a baggage car, and, taking a com- fortable sleeping-berth, reach his hunting grounds five hundred miles away in a few hours, his power slaughter has becom so great that moderation and self-restraint become the test of a true sportsman. they experience has easkea is temperang the by experience, if asked to tell why some físhers are dubbed “lucky," others not, will answer that the lucky angler usually has three traits: first, knowledge of places; second, keen and careful at- tention to the details of his tackle; third, skill in handling the rod and line. many would put the third of these qualities in the first place—such is the halo that circles expertness in fishing. and, as regards fly fishing, probably skill should be lifted to the highest niche. but the reference here is to successful angling in general, as to which care and detail in tackle hold the second rank in the so-called “luck” cate- gory. one may go a step further and add that in choosing and fixing the angler's outfit terminal tackle holds the first place. by terminal tackle is here meant simply hook, snell and sinker in their various combina- tions. they are a kind of focal point in fishing—the place where the angler has closest relation and contact with the fish through the medium of his lure, the bait. hence their prime importance. if their quality or adjustment is bad, the angler may have skill, good general knowledge of times and places, and hold in his hand the supreme triumph of rod-making in green- heart, lancewood or split bamboo, yet meet with such reverse in hooking, and landing fish-especially the proverbial “big", ones -as half spoils his day's sport. and how many times has the keen fisher, off for his fortnight's vacation in the wild woods, the outing magazine struck the hard rock of disappointment in the factory, and the faults be rectified. his discovery of defects in the quality of as an example from personal experience, his stock of hooks and snells! not long ago the writer found in a type of first in order of analysis let us take the snell hooks otherwise excellent and la- hook, which, after the bait, is the literal beled "made in england,” a deadly weak- taking point of the fish. it seems a bit ness in the winding. complaint to the singular, in view of the undoubted advance salesman went back right away to head- in tackle during the last quarter century, quarters, and the next invoice of snell that one finds so many hooks still defective. hooks left nothing to be asked. possibly it may be due to the machine what style of hook is the best for gen- made product in contrast with the old and eral fishing? is a query which anglers will, more careful work of hand and eye. but, according to individual taste, fancy or ex- whatever the cause, the fact stands and perience, answer differently for all time. also its corollary that the angler in these under the limitation of ordinary fresh- days must give his hook the sharpest water fishing and from the depths of an attention. experience ranging for nigh half a century the most common flaw is in the tem through the aberdeen, new york trout, per of the hook. some hooks break, but limerick, kirby and other types of hook, break hard; other hooks are brittle and the writer casts his individual vote strongly break easily. there are other hooks still in favor of the sproat, no. , for black that bend, and bend so easily that they bass and general fishing excluding pick- “straighten" on every big fish; and yet erel, for which a very large new york trout other hooks that bend, but bend so hard or kirby style is best-and no. for trout that a big fish never flexes them, and they -if fishing with bait—and the smaller only straighten and come away when the sizes for trout flies. no hook, after original full tension of the line is laid upon them if prejudices in other styles have been out- caught on tough snag or tree bough. worn, has, me judice, equaled the sproat these last are the hooks to buy-if you in consistent taking power, albeit so simple can find them - and the hard-breaking in shape. but the sproat itself varies hook classifies next in merit. tests by somewhat, as a type, in two directions-- the eye are quite useless, as so many hooks size of wire and depth of bend. the deep carry exactly the same tints in blue or bent style is the better as it gives a stronger black. test' the hook instead by the hold on large fish, and for the same reason hand, catching the point in a firm bit of i prefer the larger wire, which is less likely wood and trying it out both by the hard, to "cut" and loosen a very common firm pull and by the jerk. watch par form of escape of a heavy bass after a few ticularly in this trial for weakness at the minutes of hard strain. a very slight, foot of the barb, where the wire is apt to indeed all but imperceptible inward turn be attenuated overmuch and the whole of the point of the hook should also be point give way on a strong fish, especially looked for and preferred, and a sharply if hooked in bone or very hard gristle. outlined barb as distinguished from a mere what vasty depths of angling profanity, “nick.” as a final word on the matter of in spirit if not in word, have been stirred winding the snell on the hook it may be in boat and on bank when the pointless said that the self-reliant angler who does hook comes away from the hard-played his own work is in the end surer of the fish, must be left to memory. result; but it takes time and somewhat the winding of the snell on the hook is exceptional aptitude and deftness of hand another matter of special import. here as well as good eye. again we find acute variations and acute turning next to the character and quali- infirmities. some windings last for days ty of the snell, for general fishing the long, without serious fraying of the silk; others thick snell ranks first for obvious reasons; weaken and fray at the end of the first and the snell that is clear not only is less day's fishing; and others still, apparently visible in the water, but outclasses in firm- strong when dry, become perilously weak ness, strength and lasting power the snell and frail almost at the first touch of the that is slightly opaque. this bars the not water-a flaw probably due to defects in uncommon colored gut, which is also apt the protecting gum. in this case, too, to be of inferior grade. every angler the test of the eye avails little, though it is should keep in stock a hank of unmounted well to see that the silk winding is laid on snells, the best costing at retail about closely and evenly. the best proof is the $ per ; and such unmounted snells hard pull as well as jerk” on the snell should be the units of his terminal tackle. at right angles to the hook; but even this in general, it should be remembered that does not avail always unless the winding the unmounted snells average somewhat has been soaked for an hour or two in better in grade than those bought with water. in general it is true, as to quality hook-or hook and fly—already attached. of hook and winding, that both excellence just here we may well bring forward and weakness run through all the brands some points connected with the gut of the maker, and a test of one hook tries leader. in fly fishing the leader is abso- all. in that case a word of warning to the lutely essential. it saves the terminal salesman is pretty sure to pass quickly to from tangles; it is all but a prime factor rod and gun or on in straight, clean, deft, accurate and long string sinker has at almost every point casting of the line; and it delineates the superior merit; as a mere enlargement- fily and gives it the realism that lures the if carefully wound-of the line it is well shy or fastidious fish. moreover, in fly disguised; it rarely fouls on land or in fishing, the gut must be of varying size. water; it is easily varied in weight-sim- the strong, thick gut, that serves on an ply nipping off an end on the line reduces overcast or “open and shut” da it instantly—and with the rolled sheet lead windy or dimpled surfaces, often utterly on hand one can, with a stout pair of fails in high sunlight and still waters which shears, cut in a half hour the sinkers for a exact, as a rule, gossamer gut. in its whole season. relations to fly fishing with its dainty and having thus outlined the varying merits attractive refinements, the leader from six of hooks, snells and sinkers for general to ten feet knotted with the most scrupu angling, let us come to their composite. lous care, becomes thus an angling neces it explains a combination in terminal sity. tackle which the writer has used for many but when we turn to bait fishing and years, which-outside of a few fisher mates to that "general” angling to which, in the who have adopted it—he has never seen main, this article refers, the costly gut in use, and which is so ready and adaptable leader shifts, for the most part, into a thing that, in an angling sense, it has become a of luxury. the angler who carries a deep veritable vade mecum. purse may habitually use a leader on purely here is its making, let us say, for black æsthetic grounds, counting against its fre bass: take a double gut looped at the end quent loss his added pleasure of neat and and mounted on a sproat hook no. – attractive terminal tackle. but, as a pro almost any large dealer in tackle is sure saic fact in fishcraft, and averaging fresh to have it. next take two snells from the water fish of various shapes, sizes and hank of gut, cut off both the frizzled and species, probably the simple gut ten inches diminished ends, and soak the two in long has at least nine-tenths the taking mildly tepid water for a half hour. noose power of the best leader; and, if the single them by the common underrunning slip snell can be prolonged to a leader of say knot to the loop of the hook-snell. then two feet or even a little less, the serious cut some five inches of line from the reel. risk of tangle passes and, in terms of the knotting of this to the loose ends of rational economy, the angler has-ex the "hank” snells so as to make a knot cept, as stated, for fly fishing-just as good that is absolutely secure is important. a leader for all practical fishing as can be the best device is the “water knot"-at desired. least such it used to be called. the simple but before we pass to its construction single knot in a cord, but with one end let us consider sinkers. their name, even passed through twice, ought to suffice to for ordinary fresh-water fishing in lake or explain it to the novice; only, as to the stream, is legion, representing great di case in hand, the three strands--two snells versities of individual taste. but in the and the line-are to be held together and foreground are two types—the splitshot" treated in the tying as though they were and the lead "string" sinker wound along a single cord. in drawing the knot be the line or gut. of these two styles the careful that the double snells pull evenly. split shot-usually about bb. size—has finally wind the string sinker heretofore one or two special 'vantages. it offers described around the water knot, and in less resistance in the air when throwing out the case of all the knots, even though they the line; and it sinks quickly in the water, have been drawn fast, cut off the loose ends an important factor in fishing rapids or so as to leave, say, an eighth of an inch- strong, deep currents. but it has a bad thus allowing a slight margin for safety if habit of tangling gut and hook and of the knots draw a bit closer when well fouling the bottom, especially between soaked in the fishing. the composite is rocks and stones, to say nothing of its now complete. you have a "leader" vicious aptitude in hanging to bush and from twenty inches to two feet in length- bough; moreover, unless very carefully long enough for bait fishing and to avert adjusted, it is apt to flatten and weaken snarls—and the whole terminal tackle out- the line or gut at the clasping point. for fit is there in a single "combine," ready to all-round sinkers, therefore, the verdict be tied to the reel. for trouting the pro- must be decisively in favor of the string cess is exactly the same, with the sproat sinker, cut from sheet lead reduced in hook no. or and single snells substi- the rolling machine of the plumber to, tuted-a little easier to tie and somewhat say, twice the thickness of stiff wrapping cheaper in cost than the black bass ter- paper, and cut in pointed strips of any minal. length required. for trouting in ordinary angling has some griefs among its multi- swift waters the strip should be about two plied joys, and the writer has had his share inches long and a tenth of an inch broad; of both. but, of all the inventions which for black bass three inches long and an have assuaged vexation and fostered the eighth of an inch broad-double that size, charm of the gentle art he counts his home- perhaps, if a strong bait like a young frog spun compo for terminal tackle among or good-sized minnow is used. this the first. two new tailless kites, and how to make make them by dan beard as cut away when the frame is finished. use hickory or some other strong, elastic wood from which to make the wings sa rule kites are made with a skeleton of wood and a skin of paper or cloth. in the accompanying diagrams i have used a dash and two dots to represent the string or thread used in framing a kite, and a double line to represent the bones or sticks of the skeleton or frame. fig. explains the joints and attachments of string to sticks, also the meaning of the other convention- al signs used for conveni- a stick -atmrc ad or string .. stanos por inches stands for feet t- shows apin joint u.-shows a bound joint v--shows anotch for string ence. fig: shows the bones of an owl kite af- ter they have been attached to each other (as at t and u in fig. ), but before they are bent into form. let the sticks (aŃ and a o) be each inches in length, and join them at a by driving a pin through and bending the protruding point of the pin back (as at t, fig. ). a n and a () should be straight, flat sticks, exact duplicates of each other and, as there will be little strain upon them, they may be made of very light material; if the wood used is too small to drive a pin through it without splitting the sticks, bind the joint with thread (as at u in fig. ) and bind all accidental cracks in the sticks. or bow sticks (cd, e f) and the tail bow (gh). make these sticks considerably thinner than the backbone and let the wing sticks (c d and e f) be each feet long, and make g h feet inches long. the thickness of the bow sticks is largely dependent upon the material used, and split bamboo bows may be made much lighter than would be safe for some other woods. attach the exact centers of the bow sticks securely to the backbone at the points (k, l and b) marked on the spine. we have still two small bows to make for the tail (g p and s h), but it is unnecessary to bother with these until the others are all strung and adjusted. bind the cross sticks with strong waxed thread to the backbone and bend the bows (g d and e f) so that they will cross each other at their extremities (as in fig. ) and then lash the ends together, being careful that the right and left sides of the frame balance each other; in other words, use the utmost care to so bind the bow ends that the distance along one side of one bow from the binding to the backbone exactly equals the distance on the other side from bind- ing to backbone. it should measure (fig. ) feet inches along the bowstring to the backbone on each side. string the tail bow (gh) as in fig. . next, bind the head pieces the backbone (a n and a o) to the bow (cd), and let of the kite (a b) must be made of a good the distance from piece of straight-grained wood, free from where these sticks knots or cracks. let it be about inch are bound to the thick, inch wide and feet inches long: backbone (a a) five inches below the point where a n and measure just ii a o are attached to the backbone mark a inches on each side point (k) for the bow stick (g k d), and to where they are ii inches below k mark the backbone for bound to the bow- the center of the wings where the bow stick at n and o string will cross; ii inches below this (fig. ). do not mark the point (l) where the lower bow forget to make the stick (e l'f) will be attached; } inches two sides of your below l mark the point (b) where the kite balance, tail bow (gh) is to be attached to the otherwise you will backbone. this will leave a small amount have that abomi- of spare stick (a a and b), which may be nation, two new tailless kites, and how to make them a lop-sided kite, on curve เ one that has a list to port or starboard and worms its way in the sky like a person with curvature of the spine —if you succeed in making it fly at all; but the chances are that it will only rise to turn over in circles. after you have all the sticks in fig. in place, evenly balanced and the bow strings (see dash and dot lines, fig. ) square with the backbone (that is, crossing the spine at right angles), prepare idro the two small bows spread the paper smoothly on the floor, and if it is not large enough paste one or more pieces neatly together until a sheet is secured which will more than cover the kite frame. use boiled flour paste and make the seams as narrow as safety will permit. any sort of light, strong paper will do and for light winds such as are prevalent in the inland states east of the mississippi river, even tissue paper may be used. place the frame over the paper and use books or paper weights to hold it in place (x y z) (fig. ). the weight at x can only be used when there is no weight at the opposite wing, for the curve of the kite frame will not admit of both sides being weighted down at the same time. with a sharp pair of scissors cut around the kite frame (as in fig. ), making notches or slits at each angle and at short inter- vals (fig. ) on the curved lines. when one side is cut shift the x weight to the opposite wing, and cut the other side in the same manner, until the pattern, skin, cover or dress for the kite is finished; then with a towel in your left hand and paste brush in the right take one flap at a time, coat it with paste, fold it neatly the outline frame of the kite and press it gently but firmly down with the towel. when one side is finished transfer the x weight to the opposite side and paste that, then turn over the kite and add the flaps or flags shown on the tail of fig. . when all is dry the belly- band may be attached by using a sharp lead pencil and punching small holes on each side of the backbone at y and z (fig. ), through which string the line for the belly- band and tie it around the backbone. for the tail ( gp and s h) (fig. ) and let them each be a little over inches long, and made of light elastic sticks as near alike as your skill and judgment can make them. bend the two small bows and string them as you would an archery bow, so that the bow strings will measure inches each (as in fig. ); then bind the bows at g and p. after the kite is all strung and framed the bow strings (g p and s h) may be removed, al- though it will do no harm to leave them in place. now stretch the bow line from the joint of e c to the joint of f d until it bends the wings slightly back, so as to make a convex back and a concave front to the kite. take a half hitch around the backbone and lash it firmly to the joints (e c and d f) (fig. ). see that the frame is evenly balanced and then tighten the bow string (gh) in the same manner, making the tail bend in a curve which cor- responds with the curve of the wings or main part of the kite frame. next run the stay lines, placing one inches from the backbone, and on each side of it (as in the diagram, fig. ). two more stay lines, each inches from the first two, may now be strung so as to meet the principal bow string at points inches from the first two, and to make fast to the bow (cd) at points inches from the first two (as shown by fig. ). you are now ready to put the skin on the owl, or in other words to cover your kite with paper. over to paint the kite take fig. and set it before you, then with top (pereractiveviewot rute last gento the outing magazine non a brush and paint make a faithful copy of it. when it is done and your kite is sent aloft, you can be certain that there are no other kites like it except those some other readers of this number of the out- ing magazine are fly- ing. i have tried to make the diagrams of these kites so that they may be understood even should the letter press be lost, but the tail dors ocultetraneoon on cells an op de op luna rite the luna kite, hedron on the tail of the luna i mean on what would be called the tail of the real butterfly's wings.) on the back of the but- terfly's wings two other wings are pasted (as may be seen by referring to fig. ), and in the sectional view (fig. ii, s p and r p) these two wings are joined at their tips by a bit of paste and kept in position by the straw (o p n) run through them and the other wings. this straw is held in place by a thread which is fastened securely to one end of the straw, and then run around the curve of the kite (omn) and secured to the other end of the straw at n. fig. shows a section of professor bell's tetrahedron; fig. shows how to make one with paper and broom straws; fig. shows the finished box of "cells, and figs. and show how the cells are pasted to the tail of the butterfly and braced by broom straws. the kite meas- ures inches in length and has a spread of wings measuring inches. if made of brilliant and vari-colored paper it makes a beautiful kite. of course it may be built of sticks in place of straws, but the one these diagrams were drawn from was made with broom straws and sent aloft attached to a spool of ordinary thread. a a perspective top view of which is shown by fig. , looks so complicated that few words of explana- tion will be necessary. fig. shows the pat- tern of one side of this new butterfly kite. it was first built with- out the queer appendage on the tail, but i found that it darted around so much that it was necessary to have something to steady it. (it must be understood that when i here speak of the tail of these tail- less kites i refer to the lower or rear end of the kites themselves, and not to any long streamers of rags or strings and tufts so when i refer to the tetra- of paper. bottom ccll ccll marealing capen cell cech section op ocll cclls ostal op luna section of luna kite dot tom patr cl, unch oo john burroughs confirmed i agree with mr. burroughs that the weasel seizes its victim on the run, or on the jump; if it ever sneaks up to it i have not been fortunate enough to witness it. let me tell one instance of the many i have seen. one day i was sitting in a clump of juniper bushes at the foot of a railway dam, which latter contained a great number of weasel burrows. while i was waiting for my game, the roebuck, i was attracted by the play of several weasels some twenty feet away. on the other side of the railway track a shepherd was herd- ing his flock, and his dog eventually jumped a hare, which crossed the track within easy reach from my hiding place. the hare was going at full speed across a potato field, when he was suddenly intercepted by one of the weasels, which fastened its teeth in his neck and clung to its victim for possibly a thousand yards. i could not see the finish, but when my dog retrieved him the hare was dead. that weasel was a mus- tela minor, and the hare was a lepus tim- idus, weighing about nine pounds.-f. j. grube. note.-the map on påge of the april issue of the outing magazine in connection with mr. stewart edward white's story, "the pass," was drawn on a scale of one-half inch to the mile. for the purpose of reproduction, it was reduced to about one-eighth its original size. the printer failed to make proper change in the caption. this correction is due mr. white, as otherwise the reader might imagine that the entire ex- ploration covered a distance of about a mile and a quarter. the outing company publishing this trademark pictures the sacred scarab which was worshiped by the egyptians as a symbol of fertility and of the resurrection. it bears upraised the egg of life. philip goods and blazing the trail. drawing by philip r. goodwin. - the outing magazine vol. xlviii number june, the builders iv.-the gold camps cf the desert by ralph d. paine photographs by the author i ' f it looks good to you, get to it." been peopled within the last four years, this is a western slogan in which “it looked good” to many thousand men faith and works are so closely packed who wanted to seek gold, and they "went that another word would spoil it. there to it," and made cities in the most desolate is lacking the literary adornment of those and forbidding corner of the united states. “creeds” and “symphonies” which, done it is probable that this country will not in very pretty type or stamped on a see another great "gold stampede.” be- ragged bit of leather, exhort us to plain fore these latest discoveries were made in living and high thinking with due regard nevada, it was generally believed that the for the birds and flowers. no, there is frenzied rush of armies of treasure seekers none of the tinkling "preachment" doc must be classed as a vanished part of the trine of conduct in this big, rugged call frontier life and conditions. old pros- to action, “if it looks good to you, get to pectors, however, with the clamor of crip- it.” it is not preached, but lived by men ple creek still echoing in their memories, who are too busy to prate much about the would wag their gray beards with a know- "simple life," and it says nothing about ing air and trudge into the desert and obstacles in the way. it would be hard to among the mountains, confident that other focus with more brevity and force the bonanzas were waiting to be revealed. virile spirit of the americans who have instead of seeking new sources of sup- made and bulwarked their nation. ply the men with more capital than imagi- this is how the desert of nevada has nation were devising new methods to work copyrighted, , by the outing publishing company. all rights reserved. tonapah, cradled in the desert mountains. the builders over old diggings. their mighty electric state in which he made the first discovery dredges were turning over the placer gravel of the lode that bears his name, h. t. p. washed out by the forty-niners, and by comstock could not cling to the riches he a miracle of mechanical economy making had laid bare for others. after wandering it profitable to extract eleven cents' worth in poverty for years, he blew out his brains of gold from a ton of earth. or their near bozeman city, montana, in . stamp mills and scientific processes were the times have changed since then, and pounding up and milling the low-grade men have changed with them. the new ore of alaska and the mountains of the mining camps of nevada are alive with west. the gold hunter and producer were the old spirit that laughs at hardship and being rapidly stripped of their ancient red- danger, and their builders have earned a blooded romance of adventure by the pro- place in the latter pages of the story of the saic methods of twentieth-century enter american frontier. the “bad-man" is a prise, which have conspired to banish also missing figure, and the contrast between the cowboy and the sailor. these present-day camps of tonapah, nevada was a butt for jests among her goldfield and bullfrog, and their prede- sister states, which delighted to record cessors of the comstock, is wide and such items as: impressive. such colorful gentlemen as “three hoboes were thrown off a train stalked through virginia city thirty years while crossing the nevada desert the other ago may be glimpsed in these bits of life day. their arrival doubled the popula- and manners as told by one of them: tion of the county in which they hit the “a gambler of herculean frame, with a alkali, and a real estate boom was started huge black beard that gave him a most fe- on the strength of it.” rocious appearance, cheated a miner out the state of brown, bare mountains and of four or five hundred dollars in a poker sand and sagebrush was beginning to feel game. the miner saw that he had been the stir of the irrigation movement, but swindled after his money was gone, and the heyday of her mining glory seemed to demanded his cash. the big gambler slumber with a dead past. silver camps laughed in his face. the miner, who was that were hilarious cities of thousands of a small and inoffensive-looking person, men and millions in wealth thirty years left the place without more words. some ago had dwindled to ruined hamlets whose of the crowd in the saloon told the big brick blocks stood tenantless and forlorn. sport that his man had gone off to heel the queen of them all, virginia city, was himself, and that there would be trouble no more than a ghost of what she had been later on. the big man was not alarmed- in the days of the comstock lode. he was not going to be frightened away, those were the times when the poor he sat in a chair in the back room, near an miner, john mackay, went to nevada with open window, his head thrown back and only his pick and his stout arms; when his legs cocked up. he didn't care how fair, the blue-eyed scotchman, walked into many weapons the miner might bring. virginia without a dollar, and "hung up” “why, gentlemen,' he roared, you his board with the widow rooney up the don't know me--you don't know who i gulch, until he should make his strike; i'm the wild boar of tehama. the when two young irishmen, flood and click of a six-shooter is music to my ear, o'brien, were digging in the hills with their and a bowie knife is my looking-glass. comrade, george hearst, all of them red (here he happened to look toward the shirted prospectors together, with no other door, and saw the miner coming in with capital than stout hearts and stouter backs. a sawed-off shotgun.) ‘but a shotgun lets their fortunes have built railroads, laid me out,' and he went through the window cables under seas and flung their children headfirst." into the spangled world of fashion. the "early in the spring of ,” as dan comstock yielded more than two hundred dequille has told it, “sam brown, known millions of silver in sixteen years. its all over the pacific coast as 'fighting sam mines were the life od of the pacific brown,' arrived in virginia. he was a big coast. but when their glory departed, chief, and when he walked into a saloon nevada went to sleep again. like the with his big spanish spurs clanking along am. f prospectors setting out from goldfield. -- the floor, and his six-shooters napping un he, "and saw doc holliday, wyatt and der his coat-tails, the little chiefs' hunt virgil earp and ringold wipe out the three ed their holes and talked small on back mcclowrys and the two clancys. one of seats. the earps was a deputy united states “in order to signalize his arrival, sam marshal, another was the town marshal, brown committed a murder soon after and a third, morgan earp, was a wells reaching virginia. he picked a quarrel in fargo‘shotgun man' or express messenger. a saloon with a man who was so drunk that there was bad feeling between the earps he did not know what he was saying, and and the gang of cowboys, who were ac- ripped him up with his bowie knife, kill cused of holding up the stage and killing ing him instantly; then, wiping his knife the driver, curly bill. the mcclowrys and on the leg of his pantaloons, lay down on clancys accused the earps of having a a bench and went to sleep. after that hand in the hold-up. the climax came where was the chief who dared say that when the earps sent out word that the sam brown was not the ‘big chief'? sam cow men must not ride into tombstone had killed about fifteen men, doubtless and shoot up the town any more. i was much in the same way as he killed the last hiding behind an adobe house down at the man. corral when the mcclowrys and clancys “not for long was sam chief in wahoe. rode in to accept the challenge. it was one van sickles, at whose ranch he shot a fight to the finish. two of the earps a hostler, mounted a fast horse, and crowd were wounded, but all of the other started in pursuit with a heavily loaded side were killed or mortally hurt right shotgun. sam no doubt felt that his hour there at the corral. had come, for an enraged ranchman on his “a little later morgan earp was killed track meant business, as he well knew. in a saloon by a load of buckshot fired he turned in his saddle and began firing, through the window near which he was but the ranchman was unhurt and, raising playing billiards." his gun, riddled the great fighter with buck now, the two surviving earps, perhaps shot, tumbling him dead from his horse at hoping that the frontier had come back to the edge of the town of genoa.” them, drifted into the new goldfield dis- going into tonapah from reno last au trict within the last year or so. virgil tumn, a mining engineer recalled his earlier earp died in the miners' hospital at gold- experiences in the sizzling towns of the field, with his boots off, last autumn, after frontier. a most prosaic illness. wyatt ran a little "i was a boy in tombstone in ," said saloon in tonapah for a while, and moved n. moving his residence by the simple process of jerking it up by the roots. on. once he flourished his guns while ness of harvesting his hay crop. he had drunk, and they were rudely taken away forgotten about his rock when oddie sent from him by an undersized sheriff. this him word that the stuff assayed several was in a mining camp of five thousand hundred dollars a ton in gold and silver. souls in which it has not yet been found even then the doubting rancher did not necessary to organize a town government. think it worth while to make a trip after such is the law and order that reigns on more rock, but his very capable wife kept the frontier of to-day. at him until he hitched up a team and five years ago a desert rancher named drove into belmont. oddie had business "jim" butler was prospecting in south of his own by this time and could not go western nevada, packing his outfit along with them, so butler and his wife made on the backs of six burros, trudging among the lonely journey back to the tonapah - the mountains a hundred and fifty miles spring region to look at his “false alarm." from a railroad, in a country which an ex this was more than three months after perienced miner would have laughed at. his discovery, which indicates that "tim” it had none of the signs of gold-bearing butler was none of your get-rich-quick rock, and in his “plumb ignorance" butler financiers. he staked out a claim for his plodded along "forty miles from water and wife, one for oddie and a third for himself. one mile from hell,” trusting to gold seek three months more passed before butler ers' luck, and not at all confident of making and oddie loaded two wagons with grub a strike big enough to keep him in tobacco and tools for doing development work on money. their claims. oddie hauled water from one night he camped at tonapah spring the spring four miles away, cooked and and found some rock that "looked good to looked after the horses, sharpened tools him." he broke of a few chunks, loaded and helped butler sink a shaft. in this them on a burro and rambled home with back-breaking fashion they got out a ton them in the course of time. in the town of ore and hauled it fifty miles to belmont, of belmont, near his ranch, his rock was from which it was freighted across the greeted with a light-hearted incredulity, desert a hundred miles farther to the near- and he was about to throw it away when a est railroad at austin, to be shipped to young lawyer named oddie pricked up his a smelter. this ton netted six hundred ears, and with the rashness of youth offered dollars in gold, and the two men, whose to have the samples assayed. butler went cash capital was twenty-five dollars, were back to his ranch in monitor valley and able to hire a few men to help them. betook himself to the more important busi by winter the news sifted to the outside on tie edge of bullfrog. the builders world that a rich strike had been made in blocks, rising in the midst of the shacks and that far-away corner of the nevada des tents that swarmed on its disheveled out- ert, and men began to "get to it” from skirts. mining corporations, with millions carson and reno and the small camps in of eastern capital behind them, were in the mountains. “jim” butler decided to possession of the richest claims, the country lease claims to the newcomers, and staked round had been prospected by thousands out locations for them as fast as they of invaders, and so the vanguard moved on arrived. another year and the human south into the wilderness. at that time, trickle had swelled to a flood, and capital- if your water supply held out and you did ists were scenting the treasure and sending not get lost and die of thirst along the edge in their scouts. a year from the time he of death valley, you could travel two hun- had swung the first pick on his locations dred miles and find no town, no human butler sold the original claims for $ , , settlement except a shack or two beside and shrewdly took part of his interest in the springs that were from thirty to fifty stock of the company that was formed. miles apart. nothing alive flourished in the rise of these shares has since brought the country except rattlesnakes and tar- the purchase price of the claims to a value antulas; nothing grew there except sage- of more than a million dollars. brush, cactus and mesquite. it was in the meanwhile this “jim” butler had been very heart of what is left of the “great making additional locations, which included american desert.” water, food, fuel, part of the future town site as well as other everything had to be hauled through rich ledges in the mountains. he showed mountain passes and sand from the near- himself to be very much of a man, which is est railroad. the heat in summer was a good deal better than being very much of frightful, rising to a hundred and twenty a millionaire. he leased out hundreds of degrees in the shade where there was any claims in the height of the rush when the shade, and lingering above a hundred de- gold fever was addling the brains of men, grees at midnight in midsummer. as it has always done. but it never threw while in alaska the gold hunter's sto- “jim” butler off his balance. he refused ries are of snow and ice and bitter cold, to have written deeds and contracts with of dog sleds and snowshoes and furs, this his customers. transactions whose total rush into the desert was framed in clouds ran into the millions were bound only by of white and choking dust, amid the peril the spoken word of "jim" butler. nor of heat and thirst. could a fabulous strike on one of his leases thousands turned backward, and hun- ever tempt him to go back on his word. dreds pushed on. their ardor flamed the town lots he sold when values were afresh when thirty miles south of tona- going skyward every few minutes were pah a second “big strike” was made, and transferred with no papers to show for it. the town of goldfield rose over night. the broken grubstake contracts, claim-jump- lucky locaters and lessees began to find ing suits, and real-estate disputes raged out ore whose total values ran into the all round him, but nobody who did busi millions in a very few months, and in the ness with “ jim" butler got into a lawsuit. first year the wealth dug out of the desert that capable wife of his helped him keep amounted to more than the production of track of his transactions, and an old ac cripple creek in its first two years of ac- count book held them all. tivity. within eighteen months, nearly within two years tonapah was a town ten thousand people were at goldfield, and of four thousand people, mostly men. it the railroad had pushed on from tonapah. had been lighted with electricity, and a still the prospectors headed southward, water system put in. there were two away from the town and the railroad, and churches, a graded school with a hundred sixty miles beyond goldfield they were the pupils, a club, two newspapers; and a rail pioneers in another stirring stampede into road had crawled over the desert, built the desert. the bullfrog district became by the tonapah mining company with the firing line of the gold-seeking invasion. $ , of its profits from its gold dig- when the gold was found, only three fam- gings. tonapah took on a settled and civi ilies were living within eighty-five miles lized air, with its stone business and bank of the locations, a rancher named beatty, . cruisers after gold. one howell, who had a little ranch by a lines were strung across the desert to gold- spring, and panamint joe, a shoshone in field, and these isolated, desert-bound set- dian who was camped with a few of his tlements were in touch with the outside tribe near another spring where there was world as soon as they were big enough to a patch of watered grazing land. in less be named. than a year four thousand people were liv tonapah, meanwhile, as the oldest of ing in the new-fledged towns of bullfrog, these camps along the path of the dusty beatty, and rhyolite. they were linked argonauts, had lost its floating population with the railroad sixty miles away by a and was in a second stage of solid develop- line of automobiles, daily stages and toiling ment, with mines in operation and ore trains of freighters' wagons. telephone going by solid train loads to the smelters the ''bucking broncho" of a desert autoinolile. — the builders at salt lake. speculation in mining tonapah when the day's work is done, stocks had succeeded the gambling fever flock into the gambling houses either to of the prospector, and if other excitement play or to look on by way of diversion. was wanted, it must be sought in the re walk into the “tonapah club” saloon sorts where the faro layout and the roulette of an evening, for example. the bar is wheel held sway. crowded, and the big room is jammed with although the “modern improvements” men who are drifting from one gambling were hurried into tonapah and goldfield table to another. there is much heavy with an amazing speed that makes this play and some hard drinking, but no loud peopling of the desert a modern miracle, talk, no boisterous profanity, no ruffianly it was nevertheless a new civilization, drunkenness. the place is quieter than the whose raw edges could not be trimmed off average camp meeting. if one is looking in one year, or even five. these are still for surviving phases of the frontier, he may frontier outposts, although they belong to be disappointed at first glimpse of so sin- a tamed frontier. they seethe with strong, gularly docile a gathering. soliant "farmer's station" on the road to bullfrog. bold currents of life, and men are counted but in front of a faro table a brace of for what they are, and not what they grizzled prospectors are "piking” along have, as it was in the days of old. with fifty-cent chips. they are almost the petulant pop of the pistol is almost cleaned out, and to the average town-bred unknown, and the six-shooter is not a com man, whose chief worry is lest he lose his monplace adornment of the well-dressed job, their situation would seem perilous and male. the gambling house, saloon and even hair-raising for they have come in dance hall, however, are populous and from the desert for “a whirl," and when profitable business enterprises and they their modest stakes are gone, they will be dot the streets "gay and frequent." be without a dollar in the world. they are cause public gambling is licensed by law aware of this fact, but it does not disturb in nevada, these mining camps have a them. they have been “broke” many more vivid streak of frontier conditions times, and they expect to “go broke” many than can be found anywhere else. the times more. they were prudent enough tanned and dusty men in boots, leggings to buy a little store of bacon, beans and and corduroys who throng the streets of flour before they embarked on this ruinous hauling rich ore from a tonapah gold mine. the builders evening, and in the morning they will pack shack built of lumber ripped from packing their burros and trail off into the moun cases, as are many residents of to-day, and tains to live another month or two without her house was scarcely larger than the piano seeing any other human being until they box. the miner handsomely solved the shall come back to town for another grub- problem when he embarked on his next stake. and if they can't raise the cash 'whirl,” for he gave orders that a house for the next grubstake? well, that time is be built to hold the piano, which was no far distant, and it's a poor kind of a man mean tribute to her charms when rough that will worry when he has enough to eat lumber was costing a hundred and thirty for a month ahead. dollars a thousand feet. so they dutifully and cheerfully “go all things are in a state of change in such broke," and stroll over to watch a crowd a town as this. the “old-timer" who goes that presses round a roulette table. three away for three months returns to find that young men in well-worn khaki are playing most of his friends have moved away, or with stacks of twenty-dollar gold pieces in are holding down new jobs. i wasted half lieu of chips. their speech is that of the a day in the company of a mining engineer campus and the club of the eastern sea who sought a friend. we found him at board, and it is likely that they learned the length, in command of a hardware store. rudiments of this pastime in a metropolitan "what do you think of him?" said the palace of art presided over by one richard engineer impatiently. “last year at this canfield. they stake twenty dollars on a time he was janitor of the bank. then he number, and one of them wins a thousand was made assistant cashier, next he was dollars with two turns of the wheel. now made the full-fledged cashier, and then he there is a sudden buzz of talk and the word up and opens a hardware store, and it's all is passed: happened inside twelve months." "here comes jack for a whirl. my acquaintance inquired for a gambler now you'll see some action.” who had been one of the big men of the the little fish retire and make room at town three months before. the roulette table for the noted plunger, “he's keeping cases for a faro layout who has dropped in to put into circulation down street for four dollars a day wages," a few thousands' worth of the gold he has was the reply. “he had fifty thousand dug from a near-by hillside. the dealer dollars last spring.” raises the limit to the ceiling, the stout "where is the professor who blew in to man of the rough-and-ready garbloses give shakespearean readings just before ten thousand dollars in an tiot, and tells went away?" was the next query. the bartender to “set up champagne for "oh, he chucked shakespeare into the all hands." this generous act costs him discard, and he's dealing faro over in the another thousand, and he swings carelessly tonapah club.” out to meander among the dance halls, mingled with these ups and downs are where the jangle of battered pianos mingles the bizarre and almost incredible tales of with that of women's voices that long since men who have found fortunes, almost with lost their freshness. the stroke of a pick, in this god-forsaken one of these suddenly rich and prodigal desert, from tonapah to bullfrog. all miners, in order fittingly to express his es kinds and conditions have won or lost in teem for one of these nightingales of the this tremendous lottery, the college-bred desert, vowed in a care-free and exhilarated man from the east alongside the ragged hour that he was going to give her a grand prospector, who had tramped the klondike piano. the lady protested and said she in vain before he drifted at the call of the preferred the cash, but he insisted upon latest cry of gold. i recall a yale man in the grand piano or nothing. after the his early thirties who told me of his luck: ponderous instrument had been freighted “after i got out of college i began work across the desert behind twenty mules, at in a broker's office in wall street, expect- vast expense, it was found that the resi- ing to touch only the high places on the dence of the faded songstress was not big road to wealth. after two years of it i enough to hold it. was starting a crop of wrinkles trying to at the time she was living in a one-room live in new york on my salary, and i needed - a "residence street" of tonapah. fresh air bad. i broke out and came west was shy one miner. oh, yes, i have held and did a number of things. they did not on it, and it's working for me in developing pan out, as you may gather when i tell you some other rich properties.” that i followed the rush to goldfield hoping college men fairly swarm in the gold something would turn up. i had forty camps, and many of them flocked in as five dollars in my clothes, and this wasn't soldiers of fortune. going to last long with grub at high-water “some fool threw a football into the prices. i applied for work in a mine and middle of the main street of goldfield one cinched a job at four dollars a day. the day,” said a prospector. “then he gave a boss listened to my plea that i wasn't college yell, and twenty men piled out of feeling quite fit and wanted to wait a the stores and hotels and saloons so fast few days before sharpening my pick. he you couldn't count 'em. they lined up promised to hold the job for ten days, without anybody's giving the word, and and i went out prospecting. inside the played a game right on the jump. they ten days i had staked a claim and had the clean wore that football out in no time." ore in sight. it was so good that i cleaned while the college-bred man may find up forty-five thousand dollars, and the boss only disappointment and hardship in such lovyre entonosll office betaalid up-to-date ships of the desert on parade in goldfield. the builders ance. a stormy tide of life as this, he quits it, at "i've been mining and prospecting for any rate, with a new respect for mankind, twenty-eight years," he said—“in colo- a bed-rock democracy of view-point, and a rado and wyoming and california (bang, stock of elemental courage and self-reli- bang) and in alaska and south africa for there is this to be said of the (thump, thump) -and i tried it awhile in men of the desert and mountains, that they australia (clang, bang)— i've made two know how to take defeat with a smile for big strikes in my time you might call the future and a firmer set of the jaw 'em fortunes (s-s-s-s-s-s)—lost 'em both in for the present. while there are prodi- mining propositions—i'm going down a gal and foolish deeds among the few who hundred feet here and if i don't strike it find bewildering wealth in the earth, a then i'll quit (bang, thump)-the surface finer wealth of manhood is developed in rock looks good to me-hope i'll find some the hearts of the many who fail to find that more color before my grubstake runs out which they seek. - it's hard work, but i don't know as i on a hillside, near goldfield, i found an want to do anything else it sort of gets old miner who was sinking a shaft to de hold of a man after a while so he ain't happy store talking over a new "strike" in tonapah. velop his prospect. there was a white unless he's being disappointed and trying heap of rock, a hole, and a hand windlass again- and bucket to mark the scene of his back there is another desert breed which is breaking endeavor. he was sharpening essentially modern, and which must be his picks at his little forge, and as he smote classed as a type of the twentieth-century the red steel with his hammer and thrust mining camp. this is the desert chauffeur, it hissing into a water bucket, he talked who opened the trail of traffic between with the clang of his tool for punctuation. tonapah and goldfield, and later drove he was gray and he wore spectacles and his machines on south to the camps of the his back was bent. but the seamed and bullfrog district. he is distinctly pic- sun-scorched face held a certain quality of turesque, and he is as thorough-going a kindly tolerance of things, a kind of tem pioneer in his way as the freighter in his. pered patience and sweetness, as if he held “i can spot one of those desert auto- a grip on a few simple doctrines of life mobile drivers coming up street as far as gained through hard stress. i can see him," said a man in goldfield. homes of some early goldfield settlers. “after he has been at it a year, he looks like a sheep herder. he gets that locoed look in his face and the same kind of a wild stare, and he looks as if you couldn't get the dust out of his system if you ran him through a stamp mill." it is one of the many incongruities of these towns dumped down in the heart of the desert to see the prospector and his burros turning out to dodge the high- powered automobiles which snort through the unpaved streets in squadrons. nor have so many costly machines been wrecked anywhere as on the road (if you may call it such) between goldfield and bullfrog. it is a stretch of sixty miles of lonely desert, without a town or a house as a refuge in case of a breakdown. when i made the trip it was as cheerful a gamble with respect to reaching your second hand store everything bought and one of the early "emporiums" of goldfield. the builders destination as putting out to sea in a flat you why. i guess because this comes bottomed skiff. the law of the survival pretty near being a man's work.” of the fittest had wrought its pitiless sometimes he has made the run to bull- work among the battered machines, and frog in five hours. this was when the from the wreckage loomed the command machine held together. he was seldom ing figure of one “bill” brown, the only longer on the road than twelve hours, driver who guaranteed to get you across, which was a better record than that of whether his auto held together or not. other drivers, who had been stranded for he had rebuilt his car several times. a day and a night in the blazing desolation so little of the original material was left between the two ports. that she suggested the present condition his road twists through cañons, over of the frigate constitution. the car had lava-strewn plains, across the bottoms of been shipped into the desert, ornate, elab dead lakes, and through sand that buries orate,' equipped with many glittering de his tires. the steering wheel is never still vices which “ bill” brown began to elimi as he snakes his old machine through the nate with ruthless hand. it should furnish rough going, while the passengers bound makers and owners of automobiles with merrily from their seats, and wonder while food for reflection to learn that this icono in air whether they will come down in or clastic chauffeur took a thousand pounds out of the car. of weight from this machine before he had twenty miles from anywhere you pass her running to please him. a tent which bears the legend, “saloon and to look at this bucking broncho of a car, restaurant.” another sign informs you the novice would conclude that “bill” that this tent is the town of “cuprite,” and brown had laid violent hands upon her that its reason for being is “first ship- and removed most of her vitals at random. ment, $ per ton.” the worth of very when he had discarded a vast amount of many tons would be required to hold the machinery and trimming, he tossed aside average man more than five minutes in the body and built a new one from the “cuprite,” but the population of four is sides of packing cases to save more weight cheerful and apparently contented. far and make room for more passengers. ahead a dust cloud marks the crawling thus humbled and transformed, sug progress of a freight outfit, hauling hay gesting a new york club man stripped and lumber to bullfrog, taking five days to down to a prospector's outfit and set adrift make the sixty-mile journey. in the desert to shift for himself, the car against the background of sand and was made to look even less like an auto mountains gleams a little lake. it is mobile. water-kegs and cases of oil and framed in wet marsh and green under- gasoline were strapped on her sides, to growth, and tall trees march behind it. gether with enough spare tires and parts presently the machine storms over this to reconstruct her at short notice. with patch of desert, and there is nothing but a her engines uncovered, reeking of oil and streak of dazzling white soda and clumps dust, rusty and patched and gaunt, the of sagebrush. this dry lake whence the machine seemed to belong to the desert mirage has fled is as smooth and hard as after “bill” brown had fashioned her to asphalt, and for a mile “bill” brown "lets his liking and like his machine, the her out” and it is like flying after the pitch- driver had come to harmonize with the en ing and bucking over the desert road. vironment. he had been in the employ "i made the trip by night during the of a new york physician before he came summer,” said he. “it was too hot in the west to tame one of these desert steeds. daytime. then you did get a run for your it was a far cry from the uniformed and money, because i'd miss the road now and dapper chauffeur of the boulevard and the then and cavort over the rocks till i struck garage to the rugged, dusty, self-reliant it again. but i've been lucky. i never fighter against odds that the desert had had to walk forty miles for help and leave made of him in one year. my passengers spraddled out in the sand “i like it better than i did in new york,” like one of the drivers did, with the ther- said bill, with a smile that struggled mometer playing around a hundred and through his mask of alkali. “i can't tell twenty.” - the outing magazine the machine stops with an ominous rattle. it seems as if “ bill” brown had boasted before he was out of the woods. he climbs down and looks his battle-scarred veteran over. a freighter is passing a few hundred yards away. to this outfit has- tens the resourceful “bill,” and returns with a few feet of wire which he had pur- loined from a bale of hay. with unruffled temper “bill” burrows in the stifling dust, somehow utilizes the wire to hitch his ma- chine together again, and she bounds away with renewed and headlong enthusiasm. ten miles from the camp of beatty, we essay to jump across a gully at a gait of about thirty miles an hour. there is a crash and a spill, in which the passengers are dumped overside on their several heads. “bill” brown rolls out like a shot rabbit, and when he scrambles to his feet, sur- veys a wrecked car. the rear axle has snapped in twain and one wheel has rolled on down the gully. a civilized driver with a broken axle would throw up his hands and wait to be towed into harbor. the passengers gaze mournfully across the desert and think of the ten-mile walk. the time is the late afternoon and the prospect is not pleasing. but “bill” re- marks with the air of a man who has no troubles: “this don't amount to shucks. you just loaf around and pick wild flowers for half an hour and then we'll go on our way rejoicing." he extracts a spare axle, a jack and a wrench from his machine shop under the seats, collects a few rocks of handy size and hums a little song while he toils. the rear of the car is jacked up on a stone un- derpinning, and the broken axle removed, and a new one fitted in thirty-five minutes by the watch. “i was a little slower than usual,” apolo- gized bill. “this gully is a mean place to break down in. you can't get under the machine without building up a rock pile first." again the old car buckles down to her task, and rattles into beatty, six hours out from goldfield. there is one long street of tents, and straggling away from them are tiny dwellings ingeniously walled with tin cracker boxes hammered out flat, or with gunny sacks or beer bottles set in adobe, and dugouts are burrowing into the hill-sides. beatty is five days by freight from a railroad and lumber is a staggering luxury. ringed about by painted mountains, whose towering slopes are wondrously streaked with crimson and green, the new camp seems vastly more remote from the world of men than could be measured in miles of desert. the concentrated essence of american enterprise is displayed in a hotel which was opened a few days before our arrival. it is a big, square, wooden building of two stories, which stands forth in this town of tents and shacks like a battleship amid a fishing fleet. and one has to fare to this far corner of the country to find that "welcome at an inn," which cities have forgotten. waiting on the porch is mrs. casey, the landlord's wife, blowing a horn and cheerily calling: “dinner's hot and waiting. come in to the best hotel in a hundred miles." a piano is busy in the parlor, there are mission furniture and big lounging chairs in the office, and at the dining-room door tarries, with smiling countenance, a plump and ruddy waiter with a white moustache, who is an animated evidence of good living. it seems worth while to recall some of the items of that memorable menu down at casey's, in the camp of beatty, not far from the edge of death valley, amid as ghastly an isolation of natural background as can be found on the globe: “utah celery, sliced tomatoes and cu- cumbers, roast spring chicken, lettuce salad, corn on the cob, green apple pie, english plum pudding, apples and grapes, and fresh milk." there were telephones in the bedrooms, bathtubs and running water, a plate glass bar and two spick-and-span roulette wheels; in short, all the comforts of home and most of the luxuries. in the starlit evening, the untiring "bill” brown limbered up his scarred chariot and drove us over to bullfrog, five miles away. the lamps went out during the journey, but bill was not disturbed. he drove at top speed and occasionally lost the rocky trail. at such times the car careened on two wheels, came down with a grunt, and hurdled a few bowlders. but with un- shaken energy the machine boomed into bullfrog, and by a miracle of luck the pas- sengers were still inside. the builders ore inasmuch as a bullfrog would have to was costing fifty dollars a ton to freight pack water on his back to camp on this site, it to a smelter, but it paid to ship such the town was named by a man of high as this out of the remote desert. powered fancy. the camp had another inside the mine, a huge block of ore had distinction in that it was the last outpost been blocked out which assayed from of the gold seeker. to push on toward the $ to $ , a ton. the experts es- south meant a journey of a hundred and timated that three million dollars' worth twenty-five miles to reach the nearest rail of ore was already in sight. taking it out road, within sight of the funeral range, was the cleanest and easiest mining imag- whose ramparts march along death valley. inable. the soft, clean talc cut almost like bullfrog was somewhat in the condition cheese, and it was like removing sacks of of a man with a ten-thousand-dollar bank gold from a vault. after a glimpse of such note in his pocket who is likely to go hun treasure finding as this, it was possible to gry before he can break it. the rush was understand the exuberant declaration of a over, and the hills were speckled with wild-eyed young citizen of bullfrog: claims and the ore was there. the hun “give us time enough and we'll demon- dreds who tarried to hold down their loca etize gold. tions and wait for something to turn up the story of one such strike as this lures lacked capital to take out the ore; and thousands into the desert, and they paint when they had it on the dump, they were another and a contrasting picture. for so far from a railroad that hauling it over many are called and few are chosen by the the desert cut too heavily into the profits. fickle fortune that directs the trail of the therefore they sat tight and held on, wait gold hunter. where these thousands of ing for the railroad which must come to adventurous men of broken fortunes come them in a few months. meantime there from, and where they drift to when the was much gold in the hills and little cash in stampede has passed, is one of the mysteries but hopes were high, and it of the “gold strike.” they leave behind was good to see the rows of tents that stood them, however, cities where there was a for pluck and courage, on the firing line of desert, they help to redeem the waste places civilization. and in their wake is new wealth that flows next day i was invited to lunch at one into every artery of the nation's material of the show mines of this district. “bob” welfare. montgomery was one of the tribe of des twenty thousand people have been al- ert prospectors when he stumbled upon ready added to the population of nevada, this bonanza. when i saw it the miners and many millions in money to her re- had been cross-cutting and tunneling into sources. and the hero and the creator of the white and chalk-like rock only a few it all is the dusty prospector with his hardy months. they had piled up several thou burros, his canteen, blankets and his gold sands of tons of ore that was worth from pan and hammer. behind him comes the $ to $ a ton. it was crumbly army of careless and high-hearted invaders, stuff that looked like lime, and it held whose truly american war-cry is: no free gold that the eye could see. it “if it looks good to you, get to it.” the camp. (to be continued.) winkler ashore v. - brainie's suicide by gouverneur morris illustrated by frederic dorr steele "t he longest were a ladies' man out an' out. he took and the sick, he did, and had delirilums, and when drearest the captain went forward to have a look voyage i ever at him, he says, with his eyes tight shet, took, sir,' put your cool hand on my forrid, honey, said winkler, i'm burnin' up. and then he opens his _"and they eyes, and says, 'i can't see you, my own was all drear true dear, but i knows you're there- and long touch me or i die,' says he. were from “captain,' says i, ‘he thinks you're his sydney, aus- girl, poor feller. put your hand on his tralia, to lon brow,' i says. the captain done it. but don, with no brainie he cast loose and begun to howl. stops. our ‘that ain't your hand,' he says; 'that's - captain were the hand of a fine strong man, but i wants "he were goin' mad." part owner in your hand, dearie.' a fine, new “the captain were some pleased to be clipper ship built by the sewalls in bath, called a fine strong man, bein' plain and maine, and him and another clipper captain undersize; so he says, “he needs to be was out to beat each other and the record. nursed by a woman, poor feller; arsk miss we never busted no record, sir, but we got jordan to step forward, with me compli- to london first, by reason of the other ship ments.' so fetches her, and she puts her founderin' in a gale off the horn with all hand on brainie's brow. with that he hands. we had nothin' all the way but says, 'god bless you, hel-un,' and shets pork, beans, bilgewater an' bufftin' winds. you'd a thought the old man o’ the sea “he's asleep,' says the captain; ‘we were down on us. off the horn the mate can leave him now.' but the minut she were froze to death, which were in no way takes away her hand, brainie commences prophetic o' where he mos' likely went to, to scritch and yell. and off the guineys a feller named iron “he ain't asleep,' says the captain; died o' the heat. in the cribban sea one ‘put your hand back.' o' the men fell overboard, by reason o' “brainie, he carmed down, he did, and goin' to sleep whilst leanin' on the rail, the captain says, “this ain't no place for a and were et by a shark. woman; we'll fetch him arft, and give him "the captain he had in charge a poor pore batie's cabin that were friz, and you girl as was a offan, and wanted to get back can nuss him,' he says, 'if you will.' to england, havin' made her fortune in “well, sir, brainie were bore aft and australia, and the men they got so's they made comfortable in the mate's cabin that couldn't think o' nothin' but that girl. were friz, and miss jordan she nussed him, but it were hardis' on brainie m'gan, who and it done him a heap o' good. but one his eyes. winkler ashore day the captain he busted in when he passes him half a tumbler. drink that, weren't looked for, and brainie he come my pore friend,' says i, ‘and you'll die forward a-flyin', and after that he were peaceful.' given all the mean work o' the ship, and “brainie he took the tumbler, and he more o' the rest than he could stand. if were sufferin' that dretful in his body and a captain's down on a man he can make head he didn't make no dyin' speeches hell for him, and that's what our captain but ‘here's how, winkie,' and he drunk it done for brainie m'gan. he'd a kilt him down. if he could. brainie took sick, and no “it 'll act quick,' says i, “but you'll pretendin' this time, but he weren't give not go alone, bein' my bes’ friend and me no rest. he were worked and worked, sick o’ life. so pours a half tumbler, and swore at an' roasted, till he'd a bin glad meanin' to get credit and a good drink all to change places with the cook in hell's to onct. but brainie he snatches the kitchun. “i'll tame you, my wild man,' tumbler out of my hands, and says: says the captain, an' he done it. "don't, you iggit,' says he. my "brainie come down with fever and pleasure,' and he drinks it down. boils, sir, so's he couldn't sleep. he got “the second drink closed his eye some thin and peaked, and his eyes took to and eased the pain of his boils. rovin', and his mouth to squirmin'. i “i wisht,' says he, i'd seed my way done my best to make things easy for him, to livin' long enough to get even with the but the captain were too sharp. “you captain,' says he. mind your own business, winkler,' says “never mind that,' says ; ‘you'll be he, ‘and i'll thank you.' it got so's brain- glad you didn't when you're onct gone. ie couldn't talk sensible. and one day, is the acid beginnin' to burn?' sir, he throwed hisself overboard; but were “a little,' says brainie; ‘i'm sleepy.' pulled out half drownded, and set to work “have another swig,' says i, ‘and lie the minut' he could stand. anybody down. you'll be for the long sleep now,' could see, sir, with half a eye, that he were goin' mad, and many's the night, sir, brainie he took another swig, and lies i wep', when i'd orter slep'. down, closin' his eyes. “i got him ashore in london, sir, but all he says was, ‘now i can kill myself in peace.' 'you'll not do that,' i says. and when i says that, sir, he took my neck between his hands and squoze it till i seed black. then he let me go. “i'll kill my- self in peace,' says he,‘and you'll not inter- fere,' he says. “i'll not,' says i, bein’mad by reason of havin' been squoze so painful, i'll help you, my lad.' “then he wep' and said i were his only friend. “you'll step round to the druggist, winkie,' says he, ‘and fetch me a pint of carbolic acid, and you'll set with me whilst i drinks your health,' says he. “i'll do that for you,' says i, “but we'll get a room at trawley's so's you can die cumtable,' i says. and we done it. i tried to get brainie to lie down on the bed, but he wa’n't able by reason of the boils on his back. so he walks the floor while i steps out for the carbolic acid, which i didn't get, sir, but a quart bottle full of whiskey and gin. stocks “'there's whiskey with it,' says , 'to drownd the dretful burnin' taste,' and i “drink that, my pore friend, and you 'll die peaceful." says . the outing magazine "i feel that peaceful,' says he, i most wish i wa’n’t dyin'.' “look at me onct more,' says i. “i can't,' says he, “my lids is that heavy.' “then good-by,' says i, and squoze his hand. “good-by,' says brainie, and a minut later he were snorin' peaceful. “then i fetched a doctor, sir, to lance his back, which he done. and he says, 'give him lettuce and fruit and fresh vegetables when he wakes,' says he, ‘and he'll not want to suicide no more.' “when the doctor were gone i drinks the rest of the whiskey and gin and lies down by brainie. we slep’ twelve hours, and when we woke, brainie he were a dif- ferent man. "you saved me, winkie,' says he, when i told him everythin'. 'you've spared me to do the captain,' says he. "well, sir, what with whiskey and fruit, brainie he come round in a few days, and were hisself again. “he found out where miss jordan were livin', and one day when the captain were payin' her a call he drops in, and them as were with him, which were me, seed a fight that didn't last long. when the captain were able to sit up, brainie says to him: “my man,' says he, ‘let this be a lesson to you not to be jealous without cause. i don't say i weren't plannin' to trifle with miss jordan's affections, but she'll bear witness i didn't do no sech thing. and when you busts into the cabin that time she were repeatin' romeo and capu- let, to keep me quiet, which she knowed by heart, havin' bin a actress. if you'd listened then you'd spared us both a heap o'pain. bein' a thick-headed, illitrate dunderpate, with the soul of a skunk, you wouldn't listen, and by consequences you had your bow and stern stove in so bad that if you fell overboard you'd sink.' “that afternoon, sir, we ships for a cruise in the meditranin. i had to clear out o’ london, too, because durin' the excitement i'd fetched the captain a few kicks on my own account that done us both a world o' good." in luzon by frank lillie pollock here the summer lingers on; but in my native north, i know, the splendid world is bright with snow, where on the windy fields of dawn the curled drifts wander, break and grow. heavy here on gulf and palm the passion-laden planets shine; and dreams turn homeward to divine again the dark auroral calm, the forest moon, the breath of pine. here the heart with summer breaks; the scented breezes come and go; and all the spirit faints to know the silence of the frozen lakes, the austere radiance of the snow. give the baby a a chance “the hand that rocks the cradle—the hand that spoils the world" by frank barkley copley post mothers know who made him what he is, let her try to little or nothing evade the responsibility as she may. about bringing up “pooh!” says the mother; "what do babies. when you, a mere man, know about babies?” m they have had two the writer respectfully steps aside with or three, they gain finger pointed at the babies' hospital of some knowledge new york city. that institution, since but nothing to it was established eighteen years ago, has speak of. wom- cared for nearly six thousand infants, and an's vaunted intu all the statements here made are made upon ition is of little value in caring for children. its authority. thus they have the certi- the maternal instinct is not a safe guide. tude of a vast experience-an experience do you call these statements pretty that you, my dear madam, can never hope strong? well, do you realize that, where- to equal. as nearly every child comes into the world let it be known that this same babies' healthy, about two-thirds of them die be hospital, by reducing them to a science, fore reaching their third year? but use has revolutionized the methods of caring your own observation. how many babies for babies wherever there has been a dis- do you know that do not have to be hushed position to receive the light. it is certainly to sleep? how many do you know that remarkable, when you come to think it are not habitually fretting and whining? over, that, although men for ages have how many do you know that are not howl systematically studied the raising of dogs, ing at all hours of the night and day for cats, poultry, cattle and horses, it was not some one to come and amuse them? pre until a few years ago that any scientific cious few. attention was paid to babies. but, young but, you object, have not babies whined as is the science of baby-raising, it is al- and howled and had to be hushed to sleep ready making giant strides. this is the since time immemorial? yes, that's true. age of the baby. the gospel is now being doesn't that prove it is perfectly natural? proclaimed to the far corners of the earth: it does not. it simply proves that babies babies have rights. since time immemorial have been spoiled. and now look here: how many babies do you know that are rapidly developing into little devils of greed and selfishness the new science is iconoclastic. it bad-tempered, impudent, self-willed, and breaks some of our most cherished tradi- as stubborn as balky mules? tions. what man, bearded and grizzled many, it is to be feared. though he may be, can pause in the midst innate depravity? bosh! that child, of his hurried, workaday life and recall now such a distressing spectacle, came into without emotion the tender lullaby his this world innocent and helpless, and with mother used to sing to him? yet the out habits, good or bad. it was his mother lullaby is denounced by the new science be regular a great the outing magazine as a grievous error. you have often heard sleep when feeding time comes round, don't it said that the hand that rocks the cradle hesitate to arouse him. keep him strictly is the hand that rules the world. the new to business during his meal, but if at any science boldly declares that the hand that time he shows a disposition to stop short rocks the cradle is the hand that spoils the of the customary allowance, let him. ba- world. babies shouldn't be rocked. bies have rights. their little “tummies” yes, it ruthlessly sweeps aside things know better than you when they need a about which cluster our most sacred mem rest. ories, does this new science; but it has re- do not sterilize the milk wards to offer that more than compensate for the things it takes away. it saves the nothing has been found that will quite lives of thousands of innocents. it eman take the place of mother's milk. therefore cipates the mother from a thralldom that a mother should nurse her baby, if possible. frequently wrecks her nervous system and when it is not possible, the best substitute brings her to a premature old age. it is pure cow's milk raw, after it has been transforms the peevish, whining baby into duly modified in accordance with the age a little creature all smiles and sunshine of the child. raw milk, however, is un- out of the baby it forms a child all sweet safe for baby during warm weather, on ac- ness and charm. in the child it inculcates count of the germs that are sure to develop habits of self-reliance that will stand him in in it. pasteurization, therefore, must be good stead when he grows up to encounter resorted to in summer. but don't sterilize the battle of life. the milk. sterilized milk is now under a will you not get in line with the modern ban. it has been discovered that in the ideas, all you mothers? give the baby a process of sterilization the bone-forming chance--a chance to grow up healthy and qualities in the milk are destroyed along strong, a chance to develop his own in with the germs, and that infants fed upon dividuality, which is his most precious gift it for any length of time are likely, not only from god and with which you have not a to have soft bones, but rickets, scurvy and shadow of right to interfere. the most distressing diseases of the joints. begin training him as soon as he is born. the difference between sterilized and pas- establish at once regular hours for his feed teurized milk is simply in the degree of heat ing and sleeping. for the first four weeks to which they are submitted and the length feed him every two hours between a.m. of time the heat is applied. pasteuriza- and p.m., once at p.m. and once at a.m. tion consists of heating the milk to or after a month he should be fed every two degrees fahrenheit for thirty minutes. and a half hours between a.m. and . milk is sterilized by heating it to de- p.m., with the two night feedings as before. grees for hour or an hour and a half. when he is two months old he presumably give the baby a chance to form good requires stronger food and more of it, and sleeping habits. during the first few days from that time on he needs to be fed only of his existence he should sleep most of the every three hours from a.m. to p.m., time. as he grows older, his sleep during with an additional feeding at p.m. the day will gradually diminish, but until stick to this system though the heavens he gets to be a great, big child indeed he fall. a large amount of the fretfulness and should continue to have fully twelve hours' moaning of infants is due to stomach dis sleep at night. by the time he is one year orders brought on by feedings at irregular old the normal baby will take two naps in intervals and in irregular quantities. once the daytime, totaling from two to three thoroughly established, the system will be hours. as he grows still older, he will take found to work admirably. go into the only one nap in the day, and this habit sloan maternity hospital in new york should be kept up until he is four or five at city, where it is in vogue, and you will see least. scores of newly born infants wake up like clockwork at the hours mentioned, and where silence had reigned there will be a regular feedings will assist the baby's terrible rumpus until food is forthcoming sleeping. if he doesn't go to sleep at once, if your baby, however, should continue to let him alone. supposing he does want to one do not rock the cradle give the baby a chance make use of his eyes for a while longer! this as indicating the essential misery of that's his right. under no circumstances life, but that's nonsense. that cry is na- ezer try to coax him to go to sleep. never ture's wise provision to expand the little sing to him, never rock him, never walk lungs to the utmost, and fill them with air. with him, never lie on the bed with him but here is the important point: the baby, never resort to any device whatsoever to if he is to have good, strong, tough lung put him to sleep, and you never will have tissue, must go on screaming from fifteen to to; if you do it when he is young, you have thirty minutes every day. this is the nor- taken the first step toward making the mal cry. it is healthy and wholesome- baby a little tyrant and yourself his slave. the baby's exercise, in fact. if the mother do it if you will, but when you get all run interferes with it, she is simply ruining the down from "taking care of "the baby, pray child to humor her own nerves. among have the decency not to expect any sym the baby's rights is the right to a good, old- pathy. it is the baby who is entitled to fashioned, red-faced bawl, and please don't the sympathy. not only have you started forget it. him on the road to impudent selfishness, but suppose it is the cry of pain? well, but you have unduly hastened the develop find out what is making him uncomfortable. ment of his brain and seriously injured his is there a pin sticking in him? is his nervous system. it is not even necessary clothing rumpled under his body? is his that things should be quiet when the baby napkin wet or soiled? are his hands and goes to sleep. let the usual noises go on, feet cold? has he got colic, earache or and he will never have any difficulty in constipation? if any of these things are to sleeping among them. blame, you will only injure him by rocking, but, you say, supposing the baby cries walking him, dancing him up and down, or when he is put down for sleep? ah! now giving him something to suck. get at the we've come to a highly important part of care se and remove it. if necessary, send for our subject. supposing the baby cries? the doctor. these remarks also apply to well, there are cries and cries. crying is the cry of illness. as for the cry of hunger, the baby's language; it is about his only you must remember that a false appetite means of expression. you, as a mother, is often engendered by irregular feedings. must learn to understand him. baby cries you know what to do, then, if this cry is are divided into six classes—the normal cry sounded abnormally. and those of pain, temper, illness, hunger, and indulgence or habit. here are some hints that will help you to distinguish these cries: and now as to the cry of temper and the normal.—loud and strong, and the cry of habit and indulgence. you don't nature of a scream; baby gets red in the have to be told, little mother, what these face with it. cries indicate. you know perfectly well pain.–usually strong and sharp, but they indicate you have made a false start. not generally continuous; it is accompanied you know that blessed baby is crying for by contortions of the features, drawing up a light in his room, to be rocked, to be of the legs and other symptoms of distress. carried about, for a bottle to be sucked, or temper.-loud and strong and usually to be indulged in some other bad habit you violent; accompanied by kicking or stiffen have been the means of his acquiring. ing of the body. well, the thing has got to be checked right illness.-usually more of fretfulness and here and now. what are you going to do? moaning than real crying, although real there is only one thing to do if you are sat- crying is excited by very slight causes. isfied beyond a reasonable doubt that it is hunger.—usually a continuous, fretful the cry of temper or indulgence—don't go cry, rarely strong and lusty. near the little darling. indulgence or habit.-stops short when “what! let him cry?” exactly. “but the baby gets what he wants, only to begin he will go on crying!” well, god bless his again when the object is withdrawn. little soul! let him bawl it out if it takes one, now you know that the baby comes into two, or even three hours. “you don't the world with a cry. pessimists interpret really mean that?" yes, i do. “but he let him cry the outing magazine may hurt himself!” no, he won't. if he tossed up in the air. very bad. baby is a very young baby, you will see that his may laugh, and baby may crow; but by abdominal band is properly applied, and and by will come the inevitable wail and then there will be not the least danger of sleepless hours to tell of the over-stimulated rupture. and if he is more than a year brain and the severe tax on the nervous old, there will be no danger of rupture system. under any circumstances. “but what will don't show off the baby happen if he goes on crying for three hours?” that's easy-he will stop. and too great emphasis cannot be laid on what's more, it is ten to one that the next this matter of shielding the baby from time he cries from temper or indulgence, he excitement. undoubtedly the temptation will keep it up for ten or fifteen minutes; to show him off is very great-he is such a and then, seeing it's no use, he will quit for cunning little dear, and he has such pretty good and all. tricks. but decide now. is it your desire “oh! but i never could stand to hear to gratify your pride or promote your ba- baby cry for three hours!” why couldn't by's welfare? you?“it would break my heart! you it is a great mistake to handle an in- don't know anything about a mother's feel fant any more than necessary, not only ings! i love him so!" all tommyrot! if on the score of his nerves, but on that your husband is a man, he will step in and of his bones. baby's bones, you know, give you the sharp, quick word of command. are soft; thus constant handling tends if you can't stand this ordeal, don't lay the to destroy the shapeliness of his body. flattering unction to your soul that it is be the greater part of his early life should be cause you love your baby; it is only be spent on the bed. when he gets tired of cause you are silly, weak and cowardly, lying in one position, gently roll him over the very qualities in you, no doubt, that without picking him up. when it is strict- have made the struggle with the baby ly necessary to lift him, there is only one necessary. love isn't a sickening mush of way to do so without subjecting any part concession. love is firm. love is just. of his body to pressure or strain that may love has good, red blood in its veins. endanger a delicate organ: with your right looking ever to the ultimate good of its hand grasp his clothing just below his feet, object, love frequently decrees suffering and then spread out your left hand and and anguish of spirit. extend it along his spine until your palm and i tell you what, my dear madam: is supporting his back and your three mid- some day, for his bad temper and impu dle fingers his neck and head. in this way dence, you are going to slap or spank that baby's clothing is made to form a hammock child you now are too tender-hearted to let in which he comfortably lies. cry. yes, you are, just as sure as you are nervous diseases are on the increase. born. and you won't slap him in love, something must be done to stop it. you either! think of the shame of it!—you say your baby was born nervous. in that are going to beat the child for the evil qual you are mistaken; but it may be that he ities that you yourself instilled in him. has inherited nervous tendencies. if that you are going to beat him in anger, there is the case, there rests upon you a double by making open confession that your duty to shield him from excitement. one mean, petty, starved nature has not enough good way to overcome his nervous ten- moral force by which to rule him. shame! dencies is to overcome your own shame! vousness. give the baby a chance to have a healthy a nervous mother infects her baby. she brain and nervous system. do you realize should practice rigid self-control for his that his brain grows more during his first sake, if not for her own many women year than in all his other years combined? are nervous because they take pride in it. that means, don't ever play with him dur. they have a silly idea that nervousness ing his first year, or let any one else play indicates some sort of superiority-refine- with him. “kitchee-coo!” cries the visi ment, delicacy, or some other such rot. tor. “oh, oo sweet, precious 'ittle dear!" if the average nervous woman, instead of and poor baby gets poked in the ribs and going around whining, “oh, dear, i'm so ner- give the baby a chance do not shirk your duty the drug habit nervous!” would brace up and say, “by god, i won't be nervous!” she would be just a few words more. mothers, yours cured in short order. and her baby's chances for success in life would be greatly sumption is, of course, that you have not is a tremendous responsibility. the as- increased. shifted it on to the shoulders of some stran- ger of a nurse girl. if you have, i am sorry you have read this article. you are never will a mother, as she values her not worth talking to. of those who realize future peace, give the restless baby sooth the blessed responsibility of motherhood ing syrups or other quieting drugs. why? the question is asked: how are you meet- why, for the simple reason that when their ing it? are you being guided by your effect passes off they will leave the baby impulses or your judgment? don't be a weaker and more excitable than ever. by fusser. don't scurry to your baby as soon resorting to such means to gain a tempor as he opens his little mouth to cry-give ary peace, she is also implanting in him him a chance to stop of his own accord. the insidious drug habit, with all that it don't drivel over him. don't surfeit him is likely to lead to--whiskey, opium and with the sweets of affection, even as you morphine. if the baby's restlessness is due would not surfeit him with any other kind to some slight disorder, he can be safely of sweets. love is gold, but gold must be soothed and quieted by a warm sponging alloyed to make good coin. let the gold of of his entire body. never under any cir your love be mixed with the iron of justice. cumstances give drugs of any kind what you must study. you must read up soever to a child without the advice of a on the subjects of fresh air, baths, exercise, physician. and clothing as they relate to babies. your another cause of nervousness in babies task is not easy-heaven knows that is is too much amusement. once more shall true! i am sorry if anything that has been it be said that among the most important said here has seemed unsympathetic. still, rights of the new-born baby is the right to there is no reason why your task should be let alone. the sources of all the amuse not be altogether a delight, no reason why ments he needs are within himself, and all maternity should not be looked forward to he asks is for a chance to develop them in with rejoicing instead of dread. his own way. his fingers and toes-bless as it is never too late to mend, so is his little heart!--suffice to entertain him it never too early to start right. guard for hours, and then comes the delight of against the first false steps. correct your studying one by one the things he begins false steps as soon as they are made known to notice (of his own accord, be it under- have a definite policy, and let it stood) in the little world that is gradually be a noble one. you are called to the unfolding to his developing senses. heights of self-sacrifice. you should be as he grows older, give him a chance to satisfied with no ideal short of that of feed his imagination by letting him have training your child-ah! bitter-sweet it only the simplest of toys, such as a soft will be-to become absolutely independent ball of bright color, a rubber doll and a meanwhile take care of yourself. bright picture or two. it is really won as you are, so is your child likely to be- derful how a child, when left to himself, the influence of heredity is small; will invent method after method of getting the influence of environment is great. it is pleasure out of the simplest things. not useless to teach your child to be one thing, only is he much happier with the simple and remain another thing yourself. the things, but he will not play with them be child is influenced by what you are, not by yond the limits of his endurance, and thus what you say. may this be your motto: he is never overtaxed by them as he is by my baby first and last, but myself for my the more elaborate toys. baby's sake. to you. of you. come. in the secret of success feats of skill by w. r. c. latson, m.d. t he term "feats of skill," as used to gain strength, it was only necessary to here, signifies any of those athletic increase the size of the muscles. happily, achievements which depend for it is now coming to be understood that their success upon the exercise of strength, physical strength depends far more upon skill and judgment. pitching a ball, do the general health and the condition of the ing the giant swing on the horizontal bar, nerves than upon the size of the muscles. guarding the wicket in cricket, driving in the extreme development of the muscles is golf, serving in tennis, bowling, riding, now, i think, recognized by the general fencing, swimming-all these are feats of athletic world to be what it is, a fallacy, a skill. and to the mastery of these feats delusion and a snare. of skill enthusiastic young people, and to be strong, then, a man must have some less young, spend many hours of good health, good muscles and good nerves. wearisome and useless drill. it is to re and, of course, the first of these includes duce the amount of this drill, and to call the other two. to have efficient nerves attention to a factor in the performance of and healthy, normal muscles, one must feats of skill which is usually quite over have good blood; for it is out of the blood looked, that i shall devote this article. that the body is renewed. if the body by skill as shown in the various feats as a whole be sound and healthy, then the of sports, games and athletics, we mean organs which digest the food, which change a combination of three things: muscular it into blood, which propel that blood strength, control of the body as a whole, through the body and which keep it clean and mental activity. a combination of -then those organs will do their work these three things in high degree will in properly and the result will be health. evitably give us a champion athlete. but if health be defective the blood will be he must have all three. the tripod can poor; and neither nerves nor muscles will not stand on one leg; and the athlete can be capable of doing their best work. over- not depend for success upon any one thing. feeding, overwork, worry, errors in feed- strength alone, control alone, good mental ing, deficient exercise, bad air—all these powers, any one or two of these will fail, and many other conditions that might be unless united with the others. if, how named render the blood less rich, less pure, ever, we develop by scientific methods all less able to do its work of cleansing and of them together, we shall in every case sustaining the body and its organs. thus produce not only an athlete of exceptional they fail, and the health and muscular powers, but a man superbly equipped to strength are impaired. fight the battle of life. next we have the matter of dexterity, to succeed, then, in feats of skill, the control in the handling of the body, as athlete must have these three things: a factor in the successful performance of strength, control of his body and a good feats of skill. it is through this control of mind. and by what means can these es the body only that one can gain the high- sential elements of skill be developed? est degree of quickness, ease, precision and among athletes and those interested in power, all four of which are essential in physical development, there was during athletic feats. now in reality, all those many years the impression that, in order four factors in skill are one; and there are the secret of success in feats of skill certain exercises which, if properly and ing easily in wide, swinging, effortless cir- persistently practiced, will develop all of cles, finds it an easy matter to acquire pro- them. ficiency in almost any feat of skill, even if if we analyze for a moment any athletic he would not be remarkable for muscular feat-pitching a ball, wielding a racket or strength or for mental acuteness. for in- striking a blow-we shall find that it in- stance, among pugilists the hardest hit- volves all these four factors, quickness, ters have not been the strongest men, but ease, precision and power. let us take, those who were notable, as was fitzsim- for instance, that feat of skill which is per mons, for ease and quickness. the mas- haps of all athletic achievements the most ters of ring tactics have in every case been difficult-striking a blow in boxing. to remarkable during their best days for ra- get a clear idea of the real factors in the pidity and flexibility. unfortunately the act of landing an effective blow will help methods of “training,” in general use tend us greatly to understand the art of skill as to so overdevelop and stiffen the muscles applied to athletic feats in general. for that few boxers retain for very long their what i say of the blow applies to all other original ease and quickness. once lost, feats of skill. it is usually lost forever; and then the re- the blow must be given rapidly. other markable champion joins the ranks of the wise it would lack “steam,” and then even “has beens," making room for his new and if it did find its mark the force would be unspoiled successor; who will, in turn, insufficient to damage a trained man. to under the influence of the usual training have such quickness the blow must have methods, soon grow slower, stiff and effort- ease, for a stiff, forced movement can never ful in movement, and will then be dis- be as rapid as one that is made easily and placed by still another. this ruining of lightly. the blow must be well aimed; it champions has been well illustrated in the must, in other words, have precision. a history of the light-weight pugilists for the blow which, if aimed with precision for the last few years. critical point upon the jaw, would send an in all feats of skill the influence of the opponent to the floor for the count, might mind is most important. to perform in land upon the shoulder without making thoroughly good style any difficult feat of him wink. and necessarily the blow, to be skill it is absolutely necessary that the effective, must have power that comes not mind must be free from fear, anxiety or from great outlay of muscular strength, nervousness. i knew once, years ago, a but from momentum and weight, from man who had been a bull fighter in spain. swing. the secret of striking a blow lies during one of his glowing accounts of the to a great extent in the proper use of the sport expressed my surprise that, he weight of the body. and to so control should have left the life. his reply was: and utilize the body there must be ease of “one day i was about to enter the ring, movement. and i had a little creepy feeling of fear. thus we see that in the feat of skill then i stopped for good. the man who known as striking a blow these four fac feels fear is sure to be killed.” tors-rapidity, ease, precision and force and it is equally true that the man who are essential; and that each one helps the fears is heavily handicapped, no matter others—that all combine to make a skill what the contest may be. anxiety and ful boxer. nervousness are closely akin to fear; and now, if i had described some other feat both are so powerful in their effect as to of skill-handling a tennis racket, doing the render it almost impossible for one to per- giant swing on the horizontal bar or mak form perfectly any difficult or delicate feat ing a good drive on the golf links, it would of skill. the man who is afraid or anxious have been equally clear that the four fac or nervous is almost sure to fail. tors-quickness, ease, exactness and force all emotions when intense have a power- were all just as essential. and underlying ful effect upon the muscles. this is plainly all of them is one thing-ease, flexibility seen in the tension of the muscles, clinch- of movement. the flexible, easy move ing of hands and arms as well as of the ment is rapid, exact and forceful; and the face in anger, in the spasmodic breathing athlete who has naturally the habit of mov of excitement, in the muscular weakness the outing magazine and trembling of fear and in many other conditions that might be mentioned. now in feats of skill of whatever nature, whether balancing, juggling, marksmanship, tum- bling or shot putting, it is necessary that just the right muscles must be used at just the right instant, and to just the right degree. when, however, the muscles are dis- turbed by emotional excitement, such delicate adjust- ment is impossible, and the probable result is failure. the mental state most conducive to success in games of skill is confident calmness. and by practice this state of mind may be made a habit—a habit most valuable in all games of skill, even in that game of skill called life. a volume might be written upon this subject; but enough, perhaps, has been said to show the immense importance of confi- dence and calmness, and that these can be cultivated by effort of will. and now the question will naturally be asked: “by what methods can we most quickly and easily gain the strength and bodily flexibility which are essential to success in feats of skill?” first of all by taking care of the general health. secondly by forming the habit of easeful, flexible movement, and of then applying such effortless movement in going through the motions involved in the particu- lar feat of skill in which you purpose to excel. the careful and persistent practice of the exercises here presented will conduce most noticeably to the gen- eral health and nervous vitality, although to achieve or maintain health it will be necessary to give attention to several other things—diet, bathing and general care of the body. the main object, however, of these exercises is to develop flexibility—the power to direct the move- ments not so much by muscular power as by the natural swing of the body and limbs, reserving the muscular strength for the sudden effort of the crucial moment. for instance, in striking a blow there are four movements: a swaying of the body as a whole forward, a pivoting or rotation of the body in the direction of the mark, a pulling forward of the shoul- der and a straightening of the arm. such a method enables the boxer to make the blow really with the large and powerful muscles of the legs and trunk, as well as to so utilize the weight of the body as to add force to the impact. now the faster a body is moving, the more force will it exert. so the motion of striking a blow must be made rapidly. and, as we have seen, to move rapidly the body must be moved easily; at the moment of impact, however, when the blow lands, all the muscles of the body must be firmly set. for a moment only, then, the muscles are relaxed, so that the next motion, guard, counter or blow may be made most rapidly and with least expenditure of one's precious strength. and in all other feats of skill, whatever they be, we find the same alternation-relaxation and contraction, flexibility and tension. unfortunately athletes have generally lost sight of the fact that it is far more necessary to train for flexibility than for power of muscle, and to this oversight may be attributed many failures at feats of skill. the secret of success in feats of skill fig. . the exercises given legs into the herewith may be prac movement, un- ticed as much as is de til the extreme sired. they cannot be forward move- overdone; they cannot ment is like fail in every case to in that depicted in crease health and vital force, and in time to no. .—stand with feet greatly augment one's somewhat apart, arms hang- proficiency at all games ing, all muscles relaxed. of skill. now begin to turn the body exercise no. . gently from side to side as stand easily, arms at on a pivot, allowing the the sides. take full arms to swing as they will. breath, at the same time (see fig. .) swaying the body for in all these exercises, save ward. then, holding the the first, the one great ob- breath, stretch head upward and back- ject is to move as easily, as lightly and with ward and the arıms downward and back as much swing as possible. the less muscu- ward. (see fig. .) relax and return to lar force used the better. this method of position. handling the body may be afterward applied no. .—place arms akimbo, finger tips to the performance of feats of skill with forward. now bend head forward upon surprising results. the chest, and let body follow, at the same no. .—tack up against the wall a time slowly inhaling breath. (see fig. .) sheet of white paper upon which has been if this be done correctly, you will feel the made with black ink a small circle. stand waist expand under your hands. after a near the wall, holding a lead pencil lightly moment exhale without holding and re in the right hand. now with a free mo- turn to position. tion swing the arm up over the head, and no. .-stand easily, one foot slightly as it sweeps downward try, without in any in advance of the other. now swing the way interrupting the movement, to so arms easily up at the sides, swaying the direct it as to make a pencil mark through body forward until the arms are extended the circle. (see fig. .) try the same up over the head, at the same time inhaling in other directions, diagonally downward full breath. (see fig. .) then, without from left to right and from right toward holding the breath, swing the arms down the left, also by making a horizontal sweep ward, exhale the breath and bend the body, both from right to left and from left to quite collapsed, head and arms hanging right. the same may be tried upward, (see fig. .) both directly and diagonally. no. .–stand easily, feet somewhat in making this movement, the body apart, weight upon left foot. now swing should also participate in the swing; and the left arm easily back and forth, allowing all the muscles should be kept as loose and it to sweep up higher and higher until it is relaxed as possible. passing forward and upward as high as after, by the practice of these move- shown in fig. , backward as far as you ments, the athlete has gained the power can. move body slightly in harmony. of moving easily, he is ready to apply afterward take weight upon right foot this method of moving to the actual feat and swing right arm in the same way. in which he is interested. he should go no. .-stand with arms hanging at the through the motions incidental to this sides, all the muscles relaxed. begin to feat repeatedly, working only for ease and swing the arms slowly back and forth. freedom; and eventually he will find that let the swing become wider and wider, in these simple motions lies the secret of throwing more and more of the body and success in feats of skill. photographing the heron family by a. earl marr photographs by thomas e. marr i t was the summer before, when engaged small in diameter. this made climbing in doing some work on a country es difficult, and then the nests were built near tate, that i learned of the location of the tops. we soon discovered it would be the heron rookery, and, owing to the season quite out of the question to attempt to being too far advanced then, mentally made photograph the nests from the trees them- a note that i would pay the herons a visit selves. accordingly, my assistant, who early the next summer, in season to study was "great on climbing,” began his climb, their family life. and succeeded in reaching the first nest only early on the morning of the tenth of through his light weight and the tenacity may, i started on my mission, with an with which he hugged the trunk. the cord assistant who assured me that he was then came into use, and with that and "great on climbing"--and who afterward an old soft felt hat the eggs were carefully had a chance-an eight by ten camera, the lowered to the ground for photographing usual outfit of lenses, etc., and two dozen —then followed the nest. afterward the plates. it might be wise to add here that nest was hauled back and craftily pressed when visiting herons wear old clothes. we into place again. found these, with rubber boots and a plen upon our entrance into their domain tiful supply of stout cord, as essential as the the birds had quickly left the vicinity with camera. much loud squawking. now a few, more after an hour's ride we reached the near bold than their fellows, carefully flew back, est station, and then followed a walk of but quickly left when they discovered that nearly two miles with a heavy load and the unwelcome visitors were still there. the temperature that of midsummer. the we explored still farther into the swamp rookery was located in a dense swamp, and found a seemingly endless number mostly spruce, with a bottom wet and of nests. some trees contained but one, spongy. we had no uncertainty of mind though rarely; usually there were four, as to whether we were in the right place, or five and six-sometimes more. from the if the birds were at home. the noise, as tree tops, as far as one could see, nests were we attempted to crawl, push and scratch discernible, composed of dried branches our way in, was well-nigh deafening. and twigs; in size, perhaps, about a foot our first trip was intended for photo and a half in diameter. the nests were graphing the eggs and nests, and it was with usually built from thirty to forty feet from some trepidation we prepared to ascend the the ground, and contained, at this time, all first tree, fearing that the hatching proc unhatched eggs and generally four in a ess might be too far advanced, thus los clutch, rarely five. after photographing ing us the first stage in the series planned. a sufficient number of specimens, we con- our doubts were soon dissipated; the nest cluded to leave the rookery to the dutiful contained four eggs, about the size of hens' parents. eggs, and light green in color. our next trip occurred on the first of the trees grew closely and were generally june, sufficient time having elapsed, we be- - "we explored still farther into the swamp, and found a seemingly endless number of nests." **on this trip we found both eggs and young in the nests." they had the instinct of their fathers, really frightening one with their loud cries and repeated thrusts of bills.' "the young had now attained a fair growth, and in many cases were sitting out upon the limbs near to the nests. the outing magazine lieved, to have caused a decided change in a most remarkable sense of caution and the families of the herons. this day was agility since my last visit, and it taxed my as hot as the first-it seemed heat and brain to discover some means to attain my herons were inseparable. the noise was object. the hat would certainly not an- apparently more deafening than on the swer the purpose; even if one put them in, previous trip, and we soon learned it was they would not stay put. one had to caused by their attention to their young catch them first, and therein lay the diffi- and quarreling among themselves. culty. they were forewarned before my the small vines and swamp growth had assistant had covered more than half the taken quite a start, and the place presented distance up the tree, and upon a closer ap- even more the appearance of an undis proach the youngsters, with a remarkable turbed wilderness. the old birds were just agility, would spring from limb to limb, as prone to leave the vicinity upon the en and in that way pass from tree to tree. trance of undesirable intruders, except that they used their long necks to great ad- they hovered rather longer above their vantage, jumping and hooking their heads young, and after many loud, penetrating over the limb aimed at, holding on in that squawks took themselves away to safer fashion while they clawed with their sharp realms, leaving their children to our care. nails until they gained the limb; and then on this trip, we found both eggs and the process was repeated with varying young in the nests. the oldest had ap success, but with much speed, nevertheless. parently celebrated their first birthdays i finally resorted to shaking the smaller about two weeks previously. the major trees, and in that way succeeded in event- ity were very young in days, but had the ually getting one down. this method was instinct of their fathers, really frightening repeated from farther up on the trees, and one with their loud cries and repeated after much time we collected sufficient for thrusts of bills. this time we had to exer our first sitting; and a most unwilling group cise more care in handling our subjects. of sitters it was. for a time they devoted removing them from their nests, we care all their endeavors to striving to get away; fully placed them in the hat and lowered in the meantime keeping up a continual them—the nests followed. it was an easy squawking. some, more fortunate than matter then to do the rest, and when the the others, succeeded in getting free, and tenants and their homes had been returned, then commenced a foot race, with all the the day's work was finished. honors to the chased. it is almost incred- our third trip we planned for a date late ible with what swiftness they covered the enough to give the birds time to become ground — over fallen, rotted logs, across more fully grown, yet not quite large mud patches, under masses of growing enough to fly. vines and briers, through it all they sped, we left boston on the first train on the trusting to bold speed rather than to the morning of june the tenth. the usual more timid hiding. once the chase was heron weather prevailed-very hot. by started with the bird a few feet ahead, al- this time the swamp presented a most tan most near enough to grasp, it was practi- gled appearance, and we experienced con cally a sure thing that master heron was siderable difficulty in pushing our way in safe. and pulling our traps after us. the young yet, withal, they were apparently a had now attained a fair growth, and in timid party, and i thought i might be able many cases were sitting out upon the limbs to do much with patience and gentle hand- near to the nests. ling. in this i was correct, and succeeded the usual diet is fish, and for the past in actually training them in a while so they three weeks this vicinity had been one vast lost their fright and evinced practically no boarding-house. what with the hot sun fear of their strange companion. they be- beating down upon the putrid fish and the came, from the most unruly of subjects, dead young—for very many of them die the most tractable of models, strange as it through natural causes and falling from the may seem. one in particular became es- nests—the odor was almost unbearable. pecially friendly, without the least sign of i found the older ones, which were more fear, remaining perfectly still in the posi- desirable for my purpose, had developed tions i placed him in for a minute or more *succeeded in actually training them so that they lost their fright and evinced practically no fear of their strange companions.' "when they learned that they could sit quietly without danger, they took very readily to the new conditions." "they became, from the most unruly of subjects, the most tractable of models.' the outing magazine at a time. before the work was finished distance. one quick dart, and it is over; i became much attached to the little ones, and our friend, the heron, assumes the same and wished that it were not impracticable statuelike pose—he is indeed a most pa- to take some of them home with me. at tient fisherman. this time we found no unhatched eggs, now, a word to the amateur who may though many grim evidences of tragedies pay a visit to a heron rookery. first, let -the suspended bodies of the young hang me impress upon the mind that one must ing by the necks, with the heads caught in undergo some few hardships; yet, if you the crotches of the trees, a monument to enjoy nature, you will be surprised with over-zealous ambition. the amount of pleasure you will derive when we had finished with our subjects, from your experiences. attention to a few we placed them upon some of the lower important details, and your trip should be limbs below their nests, and they lost little successful. wear old clothes; such ones time in seeking their familiar quarters. as you can throw away when your work is it might be interesting to know how i completed, for it is more than likely that began the training so they would pose. you will wish to. rubber boots will usual- this i did by placing their feet on a limb ly be found desirable; some long, stout cord already chosen, and held them in that posi- and an old soft hat, or something equiva- tion for a little while, then released my lent, for lowering eggs and young. hold very gently. this had to be repeated one should be a good climber, though a number of times, until finally they ceased that might be overcome by the use of a pair to struggle. when they learned that they of lineman's climbers. if one is desirous could sit quietly without danger, they took of doing much of this work, it would be very readily to the new conditions. much better to have a pair made for one. we experienced some difficulty, owing to this can be done at a slight cost, having the very soft and spongy ground, in adjust the spurs longer so that they will penetrate ing the camera, and i would suggest to those through the bark and imbed firmly in the attempting a like feat to provide them solid wood, thus saving a fall when the bark selves with some small, light boards, just gives away. if the spurs are placed at the large enough to answer for the legs of the instep, and slightly under, with the spurs tripod to rest on and yet broad enough to inward and downward, you need not fear prevent the legs from settling down into the tallest tree. the swamp. of course, the exposures were concerning the camera, by all means use generally long, the place being much shad one with which you can focus on your ob- owed by trees. ject carefully, without guessing. the size each year, regularly, this colony of great is a personal matter, although the large black-crowned night herons appears and plate is a great advantage. monopolizes completely their section of the i can especially recommend this branch swamp. of photography to amateurs, feeling sure the nearest feeding ground is the salt that they will find it interesting sport. by water creeks near the old town of ipswich, using care in focusing, good judgment in massachusetts, five miles from the rookery. giving the proper length of exposure and their diet is mainly small fish, caught by exercising plenty of patience with your standing perfectly motionless on the flats subject, who seems unduly modest about in a few inches of water, watching keenly, publicity, striking results can be obtained without turning the head, for some luck -ample to repay you fully for the trials less fish who may come within catching and hardships endured. edia drawing by hy. s. watson. where the big fish are - salmon fishing on the forteau, labrador by lawrence mott ell, jack, here's for fly gently as it hung in the bubbles of a big the first fish on eddy. the labrador!” "got one!” i shouted as i felt a surge on i stood on the the rod; the fish had taken the jock under w bank of the river, water, making no swirl on the surface. whose clear waters “curious fish, dawson!” the line cut rushed foaming back and forth across the current with an and tumbling at audible humming, and the fish hugged the my feet. just be deep water close; not a run, not a jump low me was what even, only this peculiar zigzag motion, we had named the “sea pool”; an ideal bit and it was continued for several minutes. of water. at its head a long, even rapid "he's got to get out of that!” i walked sparkled in the sunlight, very quick water down as far as i could and tried to swing at the top, slowing down to a deeper and the fish up stream. no use! i could not heavier current below. there was plenty steer him, nor influence him in the least. of room for the back cast, and a level bot this may be thought strange; i should tom to wade out on. i breathed the crisp have told you that i am a great believer in air with a sense of exhilaration, and lin the use of the lightest tackle possible. the gered, enjoying my anticipation to the rod i had in hand was an eight-ounce utmost. leonard, ten feet long; the line was next “there's a fish, sir, and a good one!” to the smallest waxed taper that i could dawson pointed to a widening lot of rip- get, and the reel a medium-sized vom ples. i looked my flies over; the air was hofe (trout). therefore, it will be under- clear and the bottom light-colored. “about stood when i say that i was powerless with a no. jock this morning, jack?" my criss-crossing friend. “that will do, i think, sir," my head guide, “heave a rock at him, jack, move him philosopher and friend replied. i looped somehow!” i called back to dawson, who the small fly on a medium weight gray was leaning on the gaff and watching this leader and waded out. ye fishermen that new continuous performance with interest. love the casting of a fly, that glory in the he threw a stone accurately. first cast of the season, can appreciate my “that fixed him!” indeed it did! feelings and my thoughts. i lengthened whir-r-r-r-r! z- - - -pp! a wild rush and the line to thirty feet and cast obliquely a beautiful curving leap way up above me. across the fast water; the fly circled beau “a buster!" i yelled at the sight of the tifully and i kept my tip in slight motion. deep shoulder and gleaming length. by “there he is !” dawson whispered as this time the salmon was almost at the foot a flash of silvered sides and the flirt of a of the pool, and still going; i checked him wide black tail showed that our friend was a little, but he kept on down. watching. i drew the fly in slowly. “got to get after him now," dawson “better rest him a minute; a twenty advised. i waited a moment longer, hop- pounder if an ounce!" quoth i, and hold ing to turn the fish, then i splashed my ing a few feet of line in my hand i made a way ashore, slipping and stumbling in my short cast directly below me, twitching the mad haste, and footed it at a good pace. - - salmon fishing on the forteau, labrador time i did so! i only had a little line left, over the surface; the line led directly on and his majesty never hesitated or swerved it, and i dared not try to work it off for in his course. “he's bound for the sea!” fear of fraying it, in which case, good-by to dawson chuckled, and i commenced to his majesty. i sized up the situation and worry; the salt water was but two hun saw that the only thing to do was to get dred yards below us. once there i was across the stream-but how? the water snubbed, as a steep rock shelf blocked the was very swift and deep unless i went up way for farther chasing. “now or never,” to the top, and that would entail a sure i thought, and held hard. the light line necessity of sawing the line. no, i must sung with the strain, and i had to straighten wade it here! the rod or run the risk of getting a cast in “come and get my fly boxes, jack; it it; i gritted my teeth and prepared for the may be a case of swimming," i shouted. sickening snap that i dreaded at each sec dawson relieved me of those, also of my ond-but the gods were kind. the pull broad hat and sweater, and i started. the was too much for the big fellow; he turned water was very cold, and the bottom slip- like a flash and came at me furiously; i pery as the mischief; a few yards and i was reeled in like mad, running backward up in to my armpits, and the bottom fast re- the beach as i did so, and more by good luck ceding from my face! i had gone in below than good management, kept a tight line on the fish and slackened up on the line so as him. up, up, up and still up stream he not to disturb him. “now for swim!” and went at a great rate, i after him. then he swim i did as best i could with one hand, began to jump! and such jumps they holding the rod up with the other. it were! worth going ten thousand miles wasn't far to go and i paddled on desper- for! long leaps, short ones, then a skat ately and struck bottom twenty-five yards ing effect along the surface with the spray below where i had gone in. i dripped and foam glistening, and drops flying high ashore, shivering. in the sunlight and shining like globules "ah, there, friend, it's up to you again!" of mercury. back somersaults, forward unconsciously i spoke aloud to the fish, twists, everything that a fish could do this and dawson laughed. “go above and one did. i have never experienced any come across!” i shouted, which he did. salmon play equal to it either on the res very carefully this time i coaxed the tigouche or any other famous salmon salmon away from his rock and got him waters. this fish seemed imbued with a into clear water. he took two short runs doggedness and deviltry that was superb; and another "skitter," and another "skitter," then came in i had fought him hard for fifty minutes, tamely. "now, jack!" a flutter of foam, in heavy water, keeping below him most a lift, and he was on the beach! i laid the of the fight, and yet he did not show any rod down and knelt over him, lingering on signs of tiring. the glorious colors and scintillating scales, once i thought that the end was near; and dreaming, yet realizing the joy of it the fish was lying out in the quickest water, all. cleverly playing the current against me; i “afine fish, sir." dawson's voice“woke" picked up a pebble and started him, as i imagined, for dawson and the gaff. nearer “weigh him." jack brought out the and nearer i led him. “a cracker-jack,' dear old instrument that had recorded dawson announced, peering through the many, many pounds of the king of fish in stream. i could see the long, dark shape, varied and widespread waters. and a vision of the first salmon of the sea "twenty-two and a half, sir." son lying at my feet rose before me—and ah, that was a fish! a nervy fighter, a nearly cost me the fish! i hurried him a schemer with a will that only gave out bit too much, and tried to drag him within when its shell could do no more; superb reach of the gaff; instantly that he felt the in life, beautiful in death. extra pressure, and realized that he was in “that's enough for the morning. i am shoal water, he gave a mighty surge, a going to take a walk and a look at the river quick lunge, and there he was out in the above. tell the others that i will be back pool again, but, misery of miseries, behind in an hour or so, and ask mr. to come a sharp ledge that projected black and ugly out on this pool; he is sure of fish,” i said. me. the outing magazine dawson looked reproachfully at me. dear took his fly and i heard the merry song jack! ever since i was a wee bit of a chap of the reel. with that freedom of fisher- he has looked after me on our trips after men, i yelled sundry advices to him such the salmon. aye, more than looked after as: “keep him up! work him up- me, but he did love to see lots of fish on the stream!” and then, because i saw that the beach! that is when he and i had tiffs. fish-a good one it was--inclined strongly “i know what is on your mind, lad,” toward “that cussed rapid,” | tumbled teased. “never mind, we have three down the bank beside him. months on this coast and are going to try "hold as hard as you dare, and swing every river worth trying, and there will be your rod out stream,” i suggested. he plenty of fish.” did so, and the salmon turned back. "humph!" he grunted, "come way up “thanks,” he called, and i sat on a here on this trip, and now that fish are bowlder to see the fun. round and round, fairly leapin' for the fly you stop at one!” up and down, over and across, out of water and he walked off, still muttering. and in-another devil such as mine had i went up to the top of the pool, and been. although my pal had never killed climbed the bank on to the moss and tun a salmon, he handled this one exceedingly dra barren. the forteau river comes to well. i ventured a word now and then, but the sea from a system of lakes in the in not often. at last the big fish tired, and terior, and for fifteen miles its lower reaches the gaffer did a pretty job. we danced a lie in a valley or cleft in the barrens. the miniature fling and then i left and con- day was glorious, and i breathed the very tinued up river. breath of immortality as i wandered slow in an hour i came to the first of the ly onward, following the river. series of lakes. it shone blue and dancing before quick waters, with long, fascinating and me, and stretched away a mile or more delightfully tempting pools between them, to the northeast. there i stopped and met my eager eye at every turn. the gazed with scenic-saturated eyes toward the water was so limpid and wondrous clear looming mountains of the labrador that that i could see the dark outlines of salmon raised their tall heads above the level bar- lying behind their rocks; i tossed little rens. a fine pool lay at the foot of the stones into the pools and watched the big rapid out of the lake, and as i watched, fish and the grilse scurry about, then settle salmon after salmon rose in sportiveness, quietly back to their places. overhead, creating wide swirls and bulging ripples great billowy masses of white clouds bellied that flowed away to the pebbled shores. and rolled across the heavens, their tops among these big rises were many of the dazzling in the sun, their under sides gray heavy sea trout, of which thousands wend and deep blue in the shadows; their out their way up river to the spawning grounds. lines mirrored on the river and turning when i returned i found that the rest its water dark-colored — sometimes in the of the party had had fine sport, and a num- deepest pools it seemed quite black. it ber of large fish reposed in the little stone- was only for a few moments, though; then bound fish-pond that we had made for this the sun streamed out again and six feet of purpose. several big trout were among water seemed but a scant foot. the light the lot; one of six and three-quarters was north wind blew from over the distant especially to be admired. the “crowd” blue-hazed mountains with a suggestion were happy, i was happy, we were all of far-off snows, and it waved the heather happy but poor old jack, who still mur- pines on the banks with gentle whisper mured that "the captain” (my nickname) ings. "didn't fish as he should ought to!” “hello, you!" i called to j. k. h., as i the camp was situated on the river at came on to the bank below which he was the top of the sea pool rapid, and the roar casting industriously. “how's the luck?” of the quick water sounded lullingly in our “rotten, den it! i've lost four fish, one after the other; can't seem to keep “give us an idea of your theories of this ’em above that cussed rapid,” he shouted, kind of salmon fishing,” the crowd asked, pointing to the stiffish white water below so i proceeded to tell them what little i him. as he spoke, i saw a fish gleam as it knew of the salmon lures of the far north. ears. - salmon fishing on the forteau, labrador “the first and great thing to learn is to to sixteen foot rods that you have. the reconcile yourselves to using small flies. rivers like this one we are on, up in this it is very true that you lose many fish by country and in newfoundland, average so doing, but it is worthy of remembering small, and you can reach all over with a that you will hook far more fish by using leonard such as i am using. it's all very mall flies than you will in adorning your well to say that i am prejudiced toward leader with no. 's and 's. also burden light rods, but the fact remains that i am your minds with the fact that it is always not. what i want is the sport that is ob- well to approach a pool with due caution. tained in using light tackle. it is more don't blunder on to its very edge and sportsmanlike, and gives your fish a de- then cuss because you do not get a rise; cent chance to fight you. that, to me, is the fish often lie close to the banks, espe the whole pleasure; to know, unless one cially in the early morning when the sun is very careful, and handles his fish with a warms the shallows a bit, and if you will glove, so to speak, that the fish is very curb your impatience to reach the more liable to carry away everything and leave tempting water you will find, i think, that one minus the whole outfit. this is the many fish will rise to you much nearer the sort of feeling i crave. just one more sug- shore than you would suppose. always gestion: don't kill fish for the sake of cast athwart the current, say at an angle killing! there is no use in slaughtering of forty-five degrees; let your fly swing them just because they rise plentifully to with the stream, and move the tip of your your your fly; in using these small flies it is only rod up and down with a slight and always one fish in a hundred that is hooked in the regular motion. don't try to reach all tongue. look at that fish-pond! there over the pool from one spot. a forty to are enough salmon there to feed an army, fifty foot cast is plenty; then when you and what earthly good are they to us? have covered that water carefully (never would it not have been better to have had hurry over your water) move down the your sport with them, and then instead length of your last cast and begin over of gaffing the poor devils that afforded you again. above all, never let yourself be that sport to have beached them and let come restless and impatient, and cast over them go? i shall not gaff another fish this a fish that you have risen at once! season!” (growls from jack in the back- "you will find by disappointing experi- ground.) i waited. ence, as i have, that nine times out of ten a "we're with you,” they shouted; "no fish that is of any weight at all will not rise more salmon gaffed or killed unless we need again if he sees the fly he missed but a sec them to eat!” i bowed my acknowledg- ond before float over him in so short a time. ments. in all my fishing of these northern waters it was time for supper. behind the i have found that the jock scott is the first camp the sunset colors were glorious, and choice, be the day bright or dark. next changed with shifting hues as we watched comes the silver doctor. on some riv them. the first night in the wilderness ers, especially in newfoundland, the silver is always the acme of delight and comfort doctor is a most killing fly; indeed on that one longs for during the tedious win- the upper humber, the little and grand ter months. and as we sat by the fire codroy, fischell's, and the barrachois riv that shone ruddy and warm in our faces, ers in newfoundland, this fly is preferable and watched the guides' shadows lengthen even to the jock. farther down the list and shorten as they moved about the of preferences come the durham ranger, flames, we were truly indescribably hap- brown fairy and black dose; always re py. there were no sand flies to bother membering that sizes eight to twelve are us, and we sat there till long into the night by far the greatest takers. another thing: talking, singing and counting the falling you fellows have great heavy forest rods; stars that flashed and trailed across the you can see for yourselves that they are twinkling heavens. then, one by one, the not necessary, can't you? use light rods, crowd turned in, and one by one the fires anywhere from seven to twelve ounces. went out, leaving but the star darkness they are plenty powerful enough, and will shining mystically on our five-tent camp give you far more sport than the fourteen on forteau river, labrador. cheon drawing by frank e. schoonover. "in the full glare of the afternoon light, crouching in the entrance of the cave, the cubs saw the lynx mother." white fang* by jack london illustrated by frank e. schoonover part ii-born of the wild the battle of the fangs i' chapter i of the pack; but she had other troubles. on her other side ran a gaunt old wolf, grizzled and marked with the scars of many t was the she-wolf who had first caught battles. he ran always on her right side. the sound of men's voices and the the fact that he had but one eye, and that whining of the sled-dogs; and it was the left eye, might account for this. he, the she-wolf who was first to spring away also, was addicted to crowding her, to from the cornered man in his circle of dying veering toward her till his scarred muzzle flame. the pack had been loath to forego touched her body, or shoulder, or neck. the kill it had hunted down, and it lingered as with the running mate on the left, she for several minutes, making sure of the repelled these attentions with her teeth; sounds, and then it, too, sprang away on but when both bestowed their attentions the trail made by the she-wolf. at the same time she was roughly jostled, running at the forefront of the pack was being compelled, with quick snaps to a large gray wolf-one of its several leaders. either side, to drive both lovers away and it was he who directed the pack's course at the same time to maintain her forward on the heels of the she-wolf. it was he who leap with the pack and see the way of her snarled warningly at the younger members feet before her. at such times her run- of the pack or slashed at them with his ning mates flashed their teeth and growled fangs when they ambitiously tried to pass threateningly across at each other. they him. and it was he who increased the might have fought, but even wooing and pace when he sighted the she-wolf, now its rivalry waited upon the more pressing trotting slowly across the snow. hunger-need of the pack. she dropped in alongside by him, as after each repulse, when the old wolf though it were her appointed position, and sheered abruptly away from the sharp- took the pace of the pack. he did not toothed object of his desire, he shouldered snarl at her, nor show his teeth, when any against a young three-year-old that ran on leap of hers chanced to put her in advance his blind right side. this young wolf had of him. on the contrary, he seemed kindly attained his full size; and, considering the disposed toward her--too kindly to suit weak and famished condition of the pack, her, for he was prone to run near to her, he possessed more than the average vigor and when he ran too near it was she who and spirit. nevertheless, he ran with his snarled and showed her teeth. nor was head even with the shoulder of his one- she above slashing his shoulder sharply on eyed elder. when he ventured to run occasion. at such times he betrayed no abreast of the older wolf (which was sel- anger. he merely sprang to the side and dom), a snarl and a snap sent him back ran stiffy ahead for several awkward leaps, even with the shoulder again. some- in carriage and conduct resembling an times, however, he dropped cautiously and abashed country swain. slowly behind and edged in between the this was his one trouble in the running old leader and the she-wolf. this was * copyright, , by jack london. doubly resented, even triply resented. the outing magazine when she snarled her displeasure, the old and palmated antlers they knew, and they leader would whirl on the three-year-old. flung their customary patience and caution sometimes she whirled with him. and to the wind. it was a brief fight and fierce. sometimes the young leader on the left the big bull was beset on every side. he whirled, too. ripped them open or split their skulls with at such times, confronted by three sets shrewdly driven blows of his great hoofs. of savage teeth, the young wolf stopped he crushed them and broke them on his precipitately, throwing himself back on his large horns. he stamped them into the haunches, with fore legs stiff, mouth'men snow under him in the wallowing struggle. acing, and mane bristling. this confusion but he was foredoomed, and he went down in the front of the moving pack always with the she-wolf tearing savagely at his caused confusion in the rear. the wolves throat, and with other teeth fixed every- behind collided with the young wolf and where upon him, devouring him alive, be- expressed their displeasure by administer fore ever his last struggle ceased or his ing sharp nips on his hind legs and flanks. last damage had been wrought. he was laying up trouble for himself, for there was food in plenty. the bull lack of food and short tempers went to weighed over eight hundred pounds—fully gether; but with the boundless faith of twenty pounds of meat per mouth for the youth he persisted in repeating the maneu forty-odd wolves of the pack. but if they ver every little while, though it never suc could fast prodigiously they could feed ceeded in gaining anything for him but prodigiously, and soon a few scattered discomfiture. bones were all that remained of the splen- had there been food, love-making and did live brute that had faced the pack a fighting would have gone on apace, and few hours before. the pack formation would have been broken there was now much resting and sleep- up. but the situation of the pack was ing. with full stomachs, bickering and desperate. it was lean with long-standing quarreling began among the younger males, hunger. it ran below its ordinary speed. and this continued through the few days at the rear limped the weak members, the that followed before the breaking-up of the very young and the very old. at the pack. the famine was over. the wolves front were the strongest. yet all were were now in the country of game, and more like skeletons than full-bodied wolves. though they still hunted in pack, they nevertheless, with the exception of the hunted more cautiously, cutting out heavy ones that limped, the movements of the cows or crippled old bulls from the small animals were effortless and tireless. their moose-herds they ran across. stringy muscles seemed founts of inexhaus there came a day, in this land of plenty, tible energy. behind every steel-like con when the wolf-pack split in half and went traction of a muscle lay another steel-like in different directions. the she-wolf, the contraction, and another and another, ap young leader on her left, and the one-eyed parently without end. elder on her right, led their half of the pack they ran many miles that day. they down to the mackenzie river and across ran through the night. and the next day into the lake country to the east. each found them still running. they were run day this remnant of the pack dwindled. ning over the surface of a world frozen and two by two, male and female, the wolves dead. no life stirred. they alone moved were deserting. occasionally a solitary through the vast inertness. they alone male was driven out by the sharp teeth of were alive, and they sought for other things his rivals. in the end there remained only that were alive in order that they might four: the she-wolf, the young leader, the devour them and continue to live. one-eyed one, and the ambitious three- they crossed low divides and ranged a year-old. dozen small streams in a lower-lying coun the she-wolf had by now developed a try before their quest was rewarded. then ferocious temper. her three suitors all they came upon moose. it was a big bull bore the marks of her teeth. yet they they first found. here was meat and life, never replied in kind, never defended and it was guarded by no mysterious fires themselves against her. they turned nor flying missiles of flame. splay hoofs their shoulders to her most savage slashes, white fang and with wagging tails and mincing steps cough. bleeding and coughing, already strove to placate her wrath. but if they stricken, he sprang at the elder and fought were all mildness toward her, they were while life faded from him, his legs going all fierceness toward one another. the weak beneath him, the light of day dulling three-year-old grew too ambitious in his on his eyes, his blows and springs falling fierceness. he caught the one-eyed elder shorter and shorter. on his blind side and ripped his ear into and all the while the she-wolf sat on her ribbons. though the grizzled old fellow haunches and smiled. she was made glad could see only on one side, against the in vague ways by the battle, for this was youth and vigor of the other he brought the love-making of the wild, the sex-trag- into play the wisdom of long years of ex edy of the natural world that was tragedy perience. his lost eye and his scarred only to those that died. to those that muzzle bore evidence to the nature of his survived it was not tragedy, but realization experience. he had survived too many and achievement. battles to be in doubt for a moment about when the young leader lay in the snow what to do. and moved no more, one eye stalked over the battle began fairly, but it did not to the she-wolf. his carriage was one of end fairly. there was no telling what the mingled triumph and caution. he was outcome would have been, for the third plainly expectant of a rebuff, and he was wolf joined the elder, and together, old just as plainly surprised when her teeth leader and young leader, they attacked the did not flash out at him in anger. for the ambitious three-year-old and proceeded to first time she met him with a kindly man- destroy him. he was beset on either side ner. she sniffed noses with him, and even by the merciless fangs of his erstwhile condescended to leap about and frisk and comrades.' forgotten were the days they play with him in quite puppyish fashion. had hunted together, the game they had and he, for all his gray years and sage ex- pulled down, the famine they had suffered. perience, behaved quite as puppyishly and that business was a thing of the past. even a little more foolishly. the business of love was at hand-ever a forgotten already were the vanquished sterner and crueler business than that of rivals and the love tale red-written on the food-getting snow. forgotten, save once, when old and in the meanwhile the she-wolf, the one eye stopped for a moment to lick his cause of it all, sat down contentedly on her stiffening wounds. then it was that his haunches and watched. she was lips half writhed into a snarl, and the hair pleased. this was her day—and it came of his neck and shoulders involuntarily not often—when manes bristled, and fang bristled, while he half-crouched for a smote fang or ripped and tore the yielding spring, his claws spasmodically clutching flesh, all for the possession of her. into the snow surface for firmer footing. and in the business of love the three but it was all forgotten the next moment year-old, who had made this his first ad as he sprang after the she-wolf, who was venture upon it, yielded up his life. on coyly leading him a chase through the either side of his body stood his two rivals. woods. they were gazing at the she-wolf, who sat after that they ran side by side, like good smiling in the snow. but the elder leader friends who have come to an understand- was wise, very wise, in love even as in bat- ing. the days passed by, and they kept tle. the younger leader turned his head together, hunting their meat and killing to lick a wound on his shoulder. the and eating it in common. after a time curve of his neck was turned toward his the she-wolf began to grow restless. she rival. with his one eye the elder saw the seemed to be searching for something that opportunity. he darted in low and closed she could not find. the hollows under with his fangs. it was a long, ripping fallen trees seemed to attract her, and she slash, and deep as well. his teeth, in spent much time nosing about among the passing, burst the wall of the great vein of larger snow-piled crevices in the rocks and the throat. then he leaped clear. in the caves of overhanging banks. old the young leader snarled terribly, but one eye was not interested at all, but he his snarl broke midmost into a tickling followed her good-naturedly in her quest, even the outing magazine and when her investigations in particular eye, but every detail of which the she- places were unusually protracted he would wolf knew. lie down and wait until she was ready to she was strangely stirred, and sniffed go on. and sniffed with an increasing delight. they did not remain in one place, but but old one eye was doubtful. he be- traveled across country until they regained trayed his apprehension, and started ten- the mackenzie river, down which they tatively to go. she turned and touched slowly went, leaving it often to hunt game his neck with her muzzle in a reassuring along the small streams that entered it, way, then regarded the camp again. a but always returning to it again. some new wistfulness was in her face, but it was times they chanced upon other wolves, not the wistfulness of hunger. she was usually in pairs; but there was no friendli thrilling to a desire that urged her to go ness of intercourse displayed on either side, forward, to be in closer to that fire, to be no gladness at meeting, no desire to return squabbling with the dogs and to be avoid- to the pack formation. several times they ing and dodging the stumbling feet of men. encountered solitary wolves. these were one eye moved impatiently beside her; always males, and they were pressingly her unrest came back upon her, and she insistent on joining with one eye and his knew again her pressing need to find the mate. this he resented, and when she thing for which she searched. she turned stood shoulder to shoulder with him, brist and trotted back into the forest, to the ling and showing her teeth, the aspiring great relief of one eye, who trotted a little solitary ones would back off, turn tail, and to the fore until they were well within the continue on their lonely way. shelter of the trees. one moonlight night, running through as they slid along, noiseless as shadows, the quiet forest, one eye suddenly halted. in the moonlight, they came upon a run- his muzzle went up, his tail stiffene and way. both noses went down to the foot- his nostrils dilated as he scented the air. prints in the snow. these footprints were one foot also he held up, after the manner very fresh. one eye ran ahead cautiously, of a dog. he was not satisfied, and he his mate at his heels. the broad pads of continued to smell the air, striving to their feet were spread wide and in contact understand the message borne upon it to with the snow were like velvet. one eye him. one careless sniff had satisfied his caught sight of a dim movement of white mate, and she trotted on to reassure him. in the midst of the white. his sliding gait though he followed her, he was still du had been deceptively swift, but it was as bious, and he could not forbear an occasional nothing to the speed at which he now ran. halt in order more carefully to study the before him was bounding the faint patch warning. of white he had discovered. she crept out cautiously on the edge of they were running along a narrow alley a large open space in the midst of the trees. flanked on either side by a growth of young for some time she stood alone. then one spruce. through the trees the mouth of eye, creeping and crawling, every sense on the alley could be seen, opening out on a the alert, every hair radiating infinite sus moonlit glade. old one eye was rapidly picion, joined her. they stood side by overhauling the fleeing shape of white. . side, watching and listening and smelling. bound by bound he gained. now he was to their ears came the sounds of dogs upon it. one leap more and his teeth wrangling and scuffling, the guttural cries would be sinking into it. but that leap of men, the sharper voices of scolding was never made. high in the air, and women, and once the shrill and plaintive straight up, soared the shape of white, now cry of a child. with the exception of the a struggling snowshoe rabbit that leaped huge bulks of the skin lodges, little could and bounded, executing a fantastic dance be seen save the flames of the fire, broken there above him in the air and never once by the movements of intervening bodies, returning to earth. and the smoke rising slowly on the quiet one eye sprang back with a snort of air. but to their nostrils came the myriad sudden fright, then shrank down to the smells of an indian camp, carrying a story snow and crouched, snarling threats at this that was largely incomprehensible to one thing of fear he did not understand. but white fang the lair the she-wolf coolly thrust past him. she it was his mate who relieved him from poised for a moment, then sprang for the the quandary in which he found himself. dancing rabbit. she, too, soared high, but she took the rabbit from him, and while not so high as the quarry, and her teeth the sapling swayed and teetered threaten- clipped emptily together with a metallic ingly above her she calmly gnawed off the snap. she made another leap, and another. rabbit's head. at once the sapling shot her mate had slowly relaxed from his up, and after that gave no more trouble, crouch and was watching her. he now remaining in the decorous and perpendicu- evinced displeasure at her repeated fail lar position in which nature had intended it ures, and himself made a mighty spring to grow. then between them the she-wolf upward. his teeth closed upon the rab and one eye devoured the game which the bit, and he bore it back to earth with him. mysterious sapling had caught for them. but at the same time there was a suspicious there were other runways and alleys crackling movement beside him, and his where rabbits were hanging in the air, and astonished eye saw a young spruce sapling the wolf pair prospected them all, the she- bending down above him to strike him. wolf leading the way, old one eye follow- his jaws let go their grip, and he leaped ing and observant, learning the method of backward to escape this strange danger, robbing snaresma knowledge destined to his lips drawn back from his fangs, his stand him in good stead in the days to throat snarling, every hair bristling with come. rage and fright. and in that moment the sapling reared its slender length upright and chapter ii the rabbit soared dancing in the air again. the she-wolf was angry. she sank her fangs into her mate's shoulder in reproof; for two days the she-wolf and one eye and he, frightened, unaware of what con hung about the indian camp. he was stituted this new onslaught, struck back worried and apprehensive, yet the camp ferociously and in still greater fright, rip- lured his mate and she was loath to depart. ping down the side of the she-wolf's muz but when, one morning, the air was rent zle. for him to resent such reproof was with the report of a rifle close at hand, and equally unexpected to her, and she sprang a bullet smashed against a tree trunk sev- upon him in snarling indignation. then eral inches from one eye's head, they he discovered his mistake and tried to pla- hesitated no more, but went off on a long, cate her. but she proceeded to punish swinging lope that put quick miles between him roundly, until he gave over all at them and the danger. tempts at placation, and whirled in a circle, they did not go far-a couple of days' his head away from her, his shoulders re journey. the she-wolf's need to find the ceiving the punishment of her teeth. thing for which she searched had now be- in the meantime the rabbit danced come imperative. she was getting very above them in the air. the she-wolf sat heavy and could run but slowly. once, down in the snow, and old one eye, now in the pursuit of a rabbit, which she ordi- more in fear of his mate than of the myste- narily would have caught with ease, she rious sapling, again sprang for the rabbit. gave over and lay down and rested. one as he sank back with it between his teeth, eye came to her; but when he touched her he kept his eye on the sapling. as be neck gently with his muzzle she snapped fore, it followed him back to earth. he at him with such quick fierceness that he crouched down under the impending blow, tumbled over backward and cut a ridicu- his hair bristling, but his teeth still keeping lous figure in his effort to escape her teeth. tight hold of the rabbit. but the blow did her temper was now shorter than ever; not fall. the sapling remained bent above but he had become more patient than ever him. when he moved it moved, and he and more solicitous. growled at it through his clenched jaws; and then she found the thing for which when he remained still, it remained still, she sought. it was a few miles up a small and he concluded it was safer to continue stream that in the summer time flowed remaining still. yet the warm blood of into the mackenzie, but that then was the rabbit tasted good in his mouth. frozen over and frozen down to its rocky the outing magazine bottom-a dead stream of solid white from he cast anxious glances at his mate, but source to mouth. the she-wolf was trot she showed no desire to get up. he looked ting wearily along, her mate well in ad- ouside, and half a dozen snow-birds flut- vance, when she came upon the overhang tered across his field of vision. he started ing high clay bank. she turned aside and to get up, then looked back at his mate trotted over to it. the wear and tear of again and settled down and dozed. a spring storms and melting snows had un shrill and minute singing stole upon his derwashed the bank, and in one place had hearing. once, and twice, he sleepily made a small cave out of a narrow fissure. brushed his nose with his paw. then he she paused at the mouth of the cave and woke up. there, buzzing in the air at the looked the wall over carefully. then, on tip of his nose, was a lone mosquito. it one side and the other, she ran along the was a full-grown mosquito, one that had base of the wall to where its abrupt bulk lain frozen in a dry log all winter and that merged from the softer-lined landscape. had now been thawed out by the sun. he returning to the cave, she entered its could resist the call of the world no longer. narrow mouth. for a short three feet she besides, he was hungry. was compelled to crouch, then the walls he crawled over to his mate and tried widened and rose higher in a little round to persuade her to get up. but she only chamber nearly six feet in diameter. the snarled at him, and he walked out alone roof barely cleared her head. it was dry into the bright sunshine to find the snow and cozy. she inspected it with pains- surface soft under foot, and the traveling taking care, while one eye, who had re difficult. he went up the frozen bed of turned, stood in the entrance and pa the stream, where the snow, shaded by the tiently watched her. she dropped her trees, was yet hard and crystalline. he head, with her nose to the ground and di was gone eight hours, and he came back rected toward a point near to her closely through the darkness hungrier than when bunched feet, and around this point she he had started. he had found game, but circled several times; then, with a tired he had not caught it. he had broken sigh that was almost a grunt, she curled through the melting snow-crust and wal- her body in, relaxed her legs, and dropped lowed, while the snowshoe rabbits had down, her head toward the entrance. one skimmed along on top lightly as ever. eye, with pointed, interested ears, laughed he paused at the mouth of the cave at her, and beyond, outlined against the with a sudden shock of suspicion. faint, white light, she could see the brush of strange sounds came from within. they his tail waving good-naturedly. her own were sounds not made by his mate, and yet ears, with a snuggling movement, laid their they were remotely familiar. he bellied sharp points backward and down against cautiously inside and was met by a warn- the head for a moment, while her mouth ing snarl from the she-wolf. this he re- opened and her tongue lolled peaceablyceived without perturbation, though he out, and in this way she expressed that she obeyed it by keeping his distance; but he was pleased and satisfied. remained interested in the other sounds one eye was hungry. though he lay faint, muffled sobbings and slubberings. down in the entrance and slept, his sleep his mate warned him irritably away, was fitful. he kept awaking and cocking and he curled up and slept in the entrance. his ears at the bright world without, where when morning came and a dim light per- the april sun was blazing across the snow. vaded the lair, he again sought after the when he dozed, upon his ears would steal source of the remotely familiar sounds. the faint whispers of hidden trickles of run there was a new note in his mate's warning ning water, and he would rouse and listen snarl. it was a jealous note, and he was intently. the sun had come back, and all very careful in keeping a respectful dis- the awakening northland world was calling tance. nevertheless, he made out, shelter- to him. life was stirring. the feel of ing between her legs against the length of spring was in the air, the feel of growing her body, five strange little bundles of life, , life under the snow, of sap ascending in the very feeble, very helpless, making tiny trees, of buds bursting the shackles of the whimpering noises, with eyes that did not frost. open to the light. he was surprised. it white fang was not the first time in his long and suc the porcupine rolled itself into a ball, cessful life that this thing had happened. radiating long sharp needles in all direc- it had happened many times, yet each time tions that defied attack. in his youth one it was as fresh a surprise as ever to him. eye had once sniffed too near a similar his mate looked at him anxiously. apparently inert ball of quills, and had the every little while she emitted a low growl, tail flick out suddenly in his face. one and at times, when it seemed to her he quill he had carried away in his muzzle, approached too near, the growl shot up in where it had remained for weeks, a rank- her throat to a sharp snarl. of her own ling flame, until it finally worked out. so experience she had no memory of the he lay down, in a comfortable crouching thing happening; but in her instinct, which position, his nose fully a foot away and out was the experience of all the mothers of of the line of the tail. thus he waited, wolves, there lurked a memory of fathers keeping perfectly quiet. there was no that had eaten their new-born and helpless telling.' something might happen. the progeny. it manifested itself as a fear porcupine might unroll. there might be strong within her, that made her prevent opportunity for a deft and ripping thrust one eye from more closely inspecting the of paw into the tender, unguarded belly. cubs he had fathered. but at the end of half an hour he arose, but there was no danger. old one eye growled wrathfully at the motionless ball was feeling the urge of an impulse, that and trotted on. he had waited too often was, in turn, an instinct that had come down and futilely in the past for porcupines to to him from all the fathers of wolves. he unroll, to waste any more time. he con- did not question it, nor puzzle over it. it tinued up the right fork. the day wore was there, in the fiber of his being; and it along, and nothing rewarded his hunt. was the most natural thing in the world the urge of his awakened instinct of that he should obey it by turning his back fatherhood was strong upon him. he on his new-born family and by trotting out must find meat. in the afternoon he and away on the meat trail whereby he blundered upon a ptarmigan. he came lived. out of a thicket and found himself face to five or six miles from the lair the stream face with the slow-witted bird. it was divided, its forks going off among the sitting on a log, not a foot beyond the end mountains at a right angle. here, leading of his nose. each saw the other. the up the left fork, he came upon a fresh track. bird made a startled rise, but he struck it he smelled it and found it so recent that he with his paw and smashed it down to earth, crouched swiftly and looked in the di then pounced upon it and caught it in his rection in which it disappeared. then he teeth as it scuttled across the snow trying turned deliberately and took the right fork. to rise in the air again. as his teeth the footprint was much larger than the crunched through the tender flesh and one his own feet made, and he knew that fragile bones, he began naturally to eat. in the wake of such a trail there was little then he remembered, and, turning meat for him. back-track, started for home, carrying the half a mile up the right fork, his quick ptarmigan in his mouth. ears caught the sound of gnawing teeth. a mile above the forks, running velvet- he stalked the quarry and found it to be footed as was his custom, a gliding shadow a porcupine, standing upright against a that cautiously prospected each new vista tree and trying his teeth on the bark. one of the trail, he came upon later imprints of eye approached carefully, but hopelessly. the large tracks he had discovered in the he knew the breed, though he had never early morning. as the track led his way, met it so far north before; and never in he followed, prepared to meet the maker his long life had porcupine served him for of it at every turn of the stream. a meal. but he had long since learned that he slid his head around a corner of rock, there was such a thing as chance, or op- where began an unusually large bend in portunity, and he continued to draw near. the stream, and his quick eyes made out there was never any telling what might something that sent him crouching swiftly happen, for with live things events were down. it was the maker of the track, a somehow always happening differently. large female lynx. she was crouching, the outing magazine as he had crouched once that day, in front everything had happened at once-the of her the tight-rolled ball of quills. if he blow, the counter blow, the squeal of agony had been a gliding shadow before, he now from the porcupine, the big cat's squall of became the ghost of such a shadow, as he sudden hurt and astonishment. one eye crept and circled around and came up well half arose in his excitement, his ears up, to leeward of the silent, motionless pair. his tail straight out and quivering behind he lay down in the snow, depositing the him. the lynx's bad temper got the best ptarmigan beside him, and with eyes peer of her. she sprang savagely at the thing ing through the needles of a low-growing that had hurt her. but the porcupine, spruce he watched the play of life before squealing and grunting, with disrupted him—the waiting lynx and the waiting anatomy trying feebly to roll up into its porcupine, each intent on life; and, such ball protection, flicked out its tail again, was the curiousness of the game, the way and again the big cat squalled with hurt of life for one lay in the eating of the other, and astonishment. then she fell to back- and the way of life for the other lay in being ing away and sneezing, her nose bristling not eaten. while old one eye, the wolf, with quills like a monstrous pin-cushion. crouching in the covert, played his part she brushed her nose with her paws, try- too, in the game, waiting for some strange ing to dislodge the fiery darts, thrust it into freak of chance that might help him on the the snow, and rubbed it against twigs and meat trail which was his way of life. branches, and all the time leaped about, half an hour passed, an hour; and noth- ahead, sidewise, up and down, in a frenzy ing happened. the ball of quills might of pain and fright. have been a stone for all it moved; the lynx she sneezed continually, and her stub of might have been frozen to marble; and old a tail was doing its best toward lashing one eye might have been dead. yet all about by giving quick, violent jerks. she three animals were keyed to a tenseness of quit her antics, and quieted down for a living that was almost painful, and scarcely long minute. one eye watched. and ever would it come to them to be more even he could not repress a start and an alive than they were then in their seeming involuntary bristling of hair along his back, petrifaction. when she suddenly leaped, without warn- one eye moved slightly and peered ing, straight up in the air, at the same time forth with increased eagerness. some emitting a long and most terrible squall. thing was happening. the porcupine had then she sprang away, up the trail, squall- at last decided that its enemy had gone ing with every leap she made. away. slowly, cautiously, it was unroll it was not until her racket had faded ing its ball of impregnable armor. it was away in the distance and died out that agitated by no tremor of anticipation. one eye ventured forth. he walked as slowly, slowly, the bristling ball straight- delicately as though all the snow were ened out and lengthened. one eye, watch- carpeted with porcupine quills, erect and ing, felt a sudden moistness in his mouth ready to pierce the soft pads of his feet. and a drooling of saliva, involuntary, ex the porcupine met his approach with a cited by the living meat that was spread furious squealing and a clashing of its long ing itself like a repast before him. teeth. it had managed to roll up in a ball not quite entirely had the porcupine un again, but it was not quite the old com- rolled when it discovered its enemy. in pact ball; its muscles were too much torn that instant the lynx struck. the blow for that. it had been ripped almost in was like a flash of light. the paw, with half, and was still bleeding profusely. rigid claws curving like talons, shot under one eye scooped out mouthfuls of the the tender belly and came back with a blood-soaked snow, and chewed and tasted swift ripping movement. had the porcu and swallowed. this served as a relish, pine been entirely unrolled, or had it not and his hunger increased mightily; but discovered its enemy a fraction of a second he was too old in the world to forget his before the blow was struck, the paw would caution. he waited. he lay down and have escaped unscathed, but a side-flick of waited, while the porcupine grated its the tail sank sharp quills into it as it was teeth and uttered grunts and sobs and oc- withdrawn. casional sharp little squeals. in a little white fang while one eye noticed that the quills were he knew his two brothers and his two drooping and that a great quivering had sisters very well. he had begun to romp set up. the quivering came to an end with them in a feeble, awkward way, and suddenly. there was a final defiant clash even to squabble, his little throat vibrating of the long teeth. then all the quills with a queer rasping noise (the forerunner drooped quite down, and the body relaxed of the growl) as he worked himself into a and moved no more. passion. and long before his eyes had with a nervous, shrinking paw one eye opened he had learned, by touch, taste stretched out the porcupine to its full and smell, to know his mother--a fount of length and turned it over on its back. warmth and liquid food and tenderness. she nothing had happened. it was surely possessed a gentle, caressing tongue that dead. he studied it intently for a mo soothed him when it passed over his soft lit- ment, then took a careful grip with his tle body, and that impelled him to snuggle teeth and started off down the stream, close against her and to doze off to sleep. partly carrying, partly dragging the porcu most of the first month of his life had pine, with head turned to the side so as to been passed thus in sleeping; but now he avoid stepping on the prickly mass. he could see quite well, and he stayed awake recollected something, dropped the bur for longer periods of time, and he was den, and trotted back to where he had left coming to learn his world quite well. his the ptarmigan. he did not hesitate a mo world was gloomy; but he did not know ment. he knew clearly what was to be that, for he knew no other world. it was done, and this he did by promptly eating dim-lighted; but his eyes had never had the ptarmigan. then he returned and to adjust themselves to any other light. took up his burden. his world was very small. its limits were when he dragged the result of his day's the walls of the lair; but as he had no hunt into the cave, the she-wolf inspected - knowledge of the wide world outside, he it, turned her muzzle to him, and lightly was never oppressed by the narrow con- licked him on the neck. but the next in fines of his existence. stant she was warning him away from the but he had early discovered that one cubs with a snarl that was less harsh than wall of his world was different from the usual and that was more apologetic than rest. this was the mouth of the cave and menacing. her instinctive fear of the the source of light. he had discovered that father of her progeny was toning down. it was different from the other walls long he was behaving as a wolf-father should, before he had any thoughts of his own, and manifesting no unholy desire to devour any conscious volitions. it had been an the young lives she had brought into the irresistible attraction before ever his eyes world. opened and looked upon it. the light from it had beat upon his sealed lids, and the chapter iii eyes and the optic nerves had pulsated to little, spark-like flashes, warm-colored and strangely pleasing. the life of his body, he was different from his brothers and and of every fiber of his body, the life that sisters. their hair already betrayed the was the very substance of his body and reddish hue inherited from their mother, that was apart from his own personal life, the she-wolf; while he alone, in this par had yearned toward this light and urged ticular, took after his father. he was the his body toward it in the same way that one little gray cub of the litter. he had the cunning chemistry of a plant urges it bred true to the straight wolf-stock-in toward the sun. fact, he had bred true to old one eye him always, in the beginning, before his con- self in physical respects, with but a single scious life dawned, he had crawled toward exception, and that was that he had two the mouth of the cave. and in this his eyes to his father's one. brothers and sisters were one with him. the gray cub's eyes had not been open never, in that period, did any of them crawl long, yet already he could see with steady toward the dark corners of the back wall. clearness. and while his eyes were still the light drew them as if they were plants; closed, he had felt, tasted and smelled. the chemistry of the life that composed the gray cub the outing magazine them demanded the light as a necessity the fascination of the light for the gray of being; and their little puppet bodies cub increased from day to day. he was crawled blindly and chemically, like the perpetually departing on yard-long ad- tendrils of a vine. later on, when each ventures toward the cave's entrance, and developed individuality and became per as perpetually being driven back. only sonally conscious of impulsions and de he did not know it for an entrance. he sires, the attraction of the light increased. did not know anything about entrances- they were always crawling and sprawling passages whereby one goes from one place toward it, and being driven back from it to another place. he did not know any by their mother. other place, much less of a way to get it was in this way that the gray cub there. so to him the entrance of the cave learned other attributes of his mother than was a wall-a wall of light. as the sun the soft, soothing tongue. in his insistent was to the outside dweller, this wall was crawling toward the light, he discovered to him the sun of his world. it attracted in her a nose that with a sharp nudge ad him as a candle attracts a moth. he was ministered rebuke, and later a paw that always striving to attain it. the life that crushed him down or rolled him over and was so swiftly expanding within him urged over with swift, calculating stroke. thus him continually toward the wall of light. he learned hurt; and on top of it he learned the life that was within him knew that it to avoid hurt, first, by not incurring the was the one way out, the way he was pre- risk of it; and second, when he had in destined to tread. but he himself did not curred the risk, by dodging and by re know anything about it. he did not know treating. these were conscious actions, there was any outside at all. and were the results of his first generaliza there was one strange thing about this tions upon the world. before that he had wall of light. his father (he had already recoiled automatically from hurt, as he come to recognize his father as the one had crawled automatically toward the light. other dweller in the world, a creature like after that he recoiled from hurt because his mother, who slept near the light and he knew that it was hurt. was a bringer of meat)—his father had he was a fierce little cub. so were his a way of walking right into the white, brothers and sisters. it was to be ex far wall and disappearing. the gray cub pected. he was a carnivorous animal. could not understand this. though never he came of a breed of meat-killers and permitted by his mother to approach that meat-eaters. his father and mother lived wall, he had approached the other walls, wholly upon meat. the milk he had and encountered hard obstruction on the sucked with his first flickering life was end of his tender nose. this hurt. and milk transformed directly from meat, and after several such adventures he left the now, at a month old, when his eyes had walls alone. without thinking about it, been open for but a week, he was begin- he accepted this disappearing into the wall ning himself to eat meat-meat half di as a peculiarity of his father, as milk and gested by the she-wolf, and disgorged for half-digested meat were peculiarities of his the five growing cubs that already made mother. too great demand upon her breast. in fact, the gray cub was not given to but he was, further, the fiercest of the thinking—at least, to the kind of thinking litter. he could make a louder rasping customary of men. his brain worked in growl than any of them. his tiny rages dim ways. yet his conclusions were as were much more terrible than theirs. it sharp and distinct as those achieved by was he that first learned the trick of rolling men. he had a method of accepting a fellow-cub over with a cunning paw- things, without questioning the why and stroke. and it was he that first gripped wherefore. in reality, this was the act of another cub by the ear and pulled and classification. he was never disturbed tugged and growled through jaws tight- over why a thing happened. how it hap- clenched. and certainly it was he that pened was sufficient for him. thus, when caused the mother the most trouble in he had bumped his nose on the back wall keeping her litter from the mouth of the a few times, he accepted that he could not disappear into walls. in the same way cave. white fang he accepted that his father could disappear day-old trail of one eye. and she had into walls. but he was not in the least found him, or what remained of him, at the disturbed by desire to find out the reason end of the trail. there were many signs for the difference between his father and of the battle that had been fought, and of himself. logic and physics were no part the lynx's withdrawal to her lair after of his mental make-up. having won the victory. before she went like most creatures of the wild, he early away, the she-wolf had found this lair, but experienced famine. there came a time the signs told her that the lynx was inside, when not only did the meat-supply cease, and she had not dared to venture in. but the milk no longer came from his after that the she-wolf in her hunting mother's breast. at first, the cubs whim- avoided the left fork. for she knew that pered and cried, but for the most part they in the lynx's lair was a litter of kittens, and slept. it was not long before they were she knew the lynx for a fierce, bad-tem- reduced to a coma of hunger. there were pered creature and a terrible fighter. it no more spats and squabbles, no more tiny was all very well for half a dozen wolves rages nor attempts at growling; while the to drive a lynx, spitting and bristling, up adventures toward the far, white wall a tree; but it was quite a different matter ceased altogether. the cubs slept, while for a lone wolf to encounter a lynx-espe- the life that was in them flickered and died cially when the lynx was known to have a down. litter of hungry kittens at her back. one eye was desperate. he ranged far but the wild is the wild, and mother- and wide, and slept but little in the lair hood is motherhood, at all times fiercely that had now become cheerless and miser- protective whether in the wild or out of able. the she-wolf, too, left her litter and it; and the time was to come when the went out in search of meat. in the first she-wolf, for her gray cub's sake, would days after the birth of the cubs one eye venture the left fork, and the lair in the had journeyed several times back to the rocks, and the lynx's wrath. indian camp and robbed the rabbit snares; but, with the melting of the snow and the chapter iv opening of the streams, the indian camp the wall of the world had moved away, and that source of sup- ply was closed to him. by the time his mother began leaving when the gray cub came back to life and the cave on hunting expeditions, the cub again took interest in the far white wall, he had learned well the law that forbade his found that the population of his world had approaching the entrance. not only had been reduced. only one sister remained this law been forcibly and many times im- to him. the rest were gone. as he grew pressed on him by his mother's nose and stronger, he found himself compelled to paw, but in him the instinct of fear was play alone, for the sister no longer lifted developing. never, in his brief cave life, her head nor moved about. his little body had he encountered anything of which to rounded out with the meat he now ate; but be afraid. yet fear was in him. it had the food had come too late for her. she come down to him from a remote ancestry slept continuously, a tiny skeleton flung through a thousand thousand lives. it was round with skin in which the flame flick a heritage he had received directly from ered lower and lower and at last went out. one eye and the she-wolf; but to them, then there came a time when the gray in turn, it had been passed down through cub no longer saw his father appearing and all the generations of wolves that had gone disappearing in the wall nor lying down before. fear!—that legacy of the wild, asleep in the entrance. this had hap which no animal may escape nor exchange pened at the end of a second and less se- for pottage. vere famine. the she-wolf knew why one so the gray cub knew fear, though he eye never came back, but there was no knew not the stuff of which fear was made. way by which she could tell what she had possibly he accepted it as one of the re- seen to the gray cub. hunting herself strictions of life. for he had already for meat, up the left fork of the stream learned that there were such restrictions. where lived the lynx, she had followed a hunger he had known; and when he could the outing magazine not appease his hunger he had felt restric mence of affection. and the cub felt that tion. the hard obstruction of the cave somehow he had escaped a great hurt. wall, the sharp nudge of his mother's nose, but there were other forces at work in the smashing stroke of her paw, the hunger the cub, the greatest of which was growth. unappeased of several famines, had borne instinct and law demanded of him obedi- in upon him that all was not freedom in ence. but growth demanded disobedience. the world, that to life there were limita his mother and fear impelled him to keep tions and restraints. these limitations and away from the white wall. growth is restraints were laws. to be obedient to life, and life is forever destined to make them was to escape hurt and make for for light. so there was no damming up happiness. the tide of life that was rising within he did not reason the question out in him-rising with every mouthful of meat this man fashion. he merely classified he swallowed, with every breath he drew. the things that hurt and the things that in the end, one day, fear and obedience did not hurt. and after such classifica were swept away by the rush of life, and tion he avoided the things that hurt, the the cub straddled and sprawled toward the restrictions and restraints, in order to en entrance. joy the satisfactions and the remunera unlike any other wall with which he had tions of life. had experience, this wall seemed to recede thus it was that in obedience to the law from him as he approached. no hard sur- laid down by his mother, and in obedience face collided with the tender little nose he to the law of that unknown and nameless thrust out tentatively before him. the thing, fear, he kept away from the mouth substance of the wall seemed as permeable of the cave. it remained to him a white and yielding as light. and as condition, wall of light. when his mother was ab in his eyes, had the seeming of form, so he sent, he slept most of the time; while dur entered into what had been wall to him ing the intervals that he was awake he and bathed in the substance that com- kept very quiet, suppressing the whimper- posed it. ing cries that tickled in his throat and it was bewildering. he was sprawling strove for noise. through solidity. and ever the light grew once, lying awake, he heard a strange brighter. fear urged him to go back, but sound in the white wall. he did not know growth drove him on. suddenly he found that it was a wolverine, standing outside, himself at the mouth of the cave. the all a-tremble with its own daring, and cau wall, inside which he had thought him- tiously scenting out the contents of the self, as suddenly leaped back before him the cub knew only that the sniff to an immeasurable distance. the light was strange, a something unclassified, had become painfully bright. he was therefore unknown and terrible--for the dazzled by it. likewise he was made unknown was one of the chief elements dizzy by this abrupt and tremendous ex- that went into the making of fear. tension of space. automatically, his eyes the hair bristled up on the gray cub's were adjusting themselves to the bright- back, but it bristled silently. how was ness, focusing themselves to meet the in- he to know that this thing that sniffed was creased distance of objects. at first, the a thing at which to bristle? it was not wall had leaped beyond his vision. he born of any knowledge of his, yet it was now saw it again; but it had taken upon the visible expression of the fear that was itself a remarkable remoteness. also, its in him, and for which, in his own life, there appearance had changed. it was now a was no accounting. but fear was accom variegated wall, composed of the trees that panied by another instinct—that of con fringed the stream, the opposing mountain cealment. the cub was in a frenzy of that towered above the trees, and the sky terror, yet he lay without movement or that out-towered the mountain. sound, frozen, petrified into immobility, a great fear came upon him. this was to all appearance dead. his mother, com more of the terrible unknown. he crouched ing home, growled as she smelt the wolver down on the lip of the cave and gazed out ine's track, and bounded into the cave and on the world. he was very much afraid. licked and nozzled him with undue vehe because it was unknown, it was hostile to cave. -- white fang him. therefore the hair stood up on end here he was without hurt. but the first along his back, and his lips wrinkled weakly man on mars would have experienced less in an attempt at a ferocious and intimidat- unfamiliarity than did he. without any ing snarl. out of his puniness and fright antecedent knowledge, without any warn- he challenged and menaced the whole wide ing whatever that such existed, he found world. himself an explorer in a totally new world. nothing happened. he continued to now that the terrible unknown had let gaze, and in his interest he forgot to snarl. go of him, he forgot that the unknown had also, he forgot to be afraid. for the time any terrors. he was aware only of curi- fear had been routed by growth, while osity in all the things about him. he in- growth had assumed the guise of curiosity. spected the grass beneath him, the moss- he began to notice near objects-an open berry plant just beyond, and the dead portion of the stream that flashed in the trunk of the blasted pine that stood on the sun, the blasted pine tree that stood at the edge of an open space among the trees. base of the slope, and the slope itself, that a squirrel, running around the base of the ran right up to him and ceased two feet trunk, came full upon him, and gave him beneath the lip of the cave on which he a great fright. he cowered down and crouched. snarled. but the squirrel was as badly now the gray cub had lived all his days scared. it ran up the tree, and from a on a level floor. he had never experienced point of safety chattered back savagely. the hurt of a fall. he did not know what this helped the cub's courage, and a fall was. so he stepped boldly out upon though the woodpecker he next encoun- the air. his hind legs still rested on the tered gave him a start, he proceeded con- cave lip, so he fell forward head downward. fidently on his way. such was his confi- the earth struck him a harsh blow on the dence, that when a moose bird impudently nose that made him yelp. then he began hopped up to him he reached out at it with rolling down the slope, over and over. he a playful paw. the result was a sharp was in a panic of terror. the unknown peck on the end of his nose that made him had caught him at last. it had gripped cower down and ki-yi. the noise he made savagely hold of him and was about to was too much for the moose bird, who wreak upon him some terrific hurt. growth promptly sought safety in flight. was now routed by fear, and he ki-yi'd like but the cub was learning. his misty any frightened puppy. little mind had already made an the unknown bore him on he knew not conscious classification. there were live to what frightful hurt, and he yelped and things and things not alive. also, he must ki-yi'd unceasingly. this was a different watch out for the live things. the things proposition from crouching in frozen fear not alive remained always in one place; while the unknown lurked just alongside. but the live things moved about and there now the unknown had caught tight hold was no telling what they might do. the of him. silence would do no good. be thing to expect of them was the unex- sides, it was not fear, but terror, that con pected, and for this he must be prepared. vulsed him. he traveled very clumsily. he ran into but the slope grew more gradual, and its sticks and things. a twig that he thought base was grass-covered. here the cub lost a long way off would the next instant hit momentum. when at last he came to a him on the nose or rake along his ribs. stop, he gave one last agonized yelp and there were inequalities of surface. some- then a long, whimpering wail. also, and times he overstepped and stubbed his quite as a matter of course, as though in nose. quite as often he understepped his life he had already made a thousand and stubbed his feet. then there were the toilets, he proceeded to lick away the dry pebbles and stones that turned under him clay that soiled him. when he trod upon them; and from them after that he sat up and gazed about he came to know that the things not alive him, as might the first man of the earth were not all in the same state of stable who landed upon mars. the cub had equilibrium as was his cave; also, that broken through the wall of the world, the small things not alive were more liable unknown had let go its hold of him, and than large things to fall down or turn over. un- the outing magazine but with every mishap he was learning fighting, tearing at a live thing that was the longer he walked the better he walked. striking at him. also, this live thing was he was adjusting himself. he was learn meat. the lust to kill was on him. he ing to calculate his own muscular move had just destroyed little live things. he ments, to know his physical limitations, would now destroy a big live thing. he was to measure distances between objects and too busy and happy to know that he was between objects and himself. happy. he was thrilling and exulting in his was the luck of the beginner. born ways new to him and greater to him than to be a hunter of meat (though he did not any he had known before. know it), he blundered upon meat just out he held on to the wing and growled be- side his own cave-door on his first foray tween his tight-clenched teeth. the ptar- into the world. it was by sheer blunder- migan dragged him out of the bush. when ing that he chanced upon the shrewdly she turned and tried to drag him back into hidden ptarmigan nest. he fell into it. the bush's shelter, he pulled her away he had essayed to walk along the trunk of from it and on into the open. and all the a fallen pine. the rotten bark gave way time she was making outcry and striking under his feet, and with a despairing yelp with her wing, while feathers were flying he pitched down the rounded descent, like a snowfall. the pitch to which he smashed through the leafage and stalks of was aroused was tremendous. all the a small bush, and in the heart of the bush, fighting blood of his breed was up in him on the ground, fetched up in the midst of and surging through him. this was living, seven ptarmigan chicks. though he did not know it. he was real- they made noises, and at first he was izing his own meaning in the world; he frightened at them. then he perceived was doing that for which he was made that they were very little, and he became killing meat and battling to kill it. he bolder. they moved. he placed his paw was justifying his existence, than which on one, and its movements were acceler life can do no greater; for life achieves its ated. this was a source of enjoyment summit when it does to the uttermost that to him. he smelled it. he picked it up which it was equipped to do. in his mouth. it struggled and tickled his after a time the ptarmigan ceased her tongue. at the same time he was made struggling. he still held her by the wing, aware of a sensation of hunger. his jaws and they lay on the ground and looked at closed together. there was a crunching each other. he tried to growl threaten- of fragile bones, and warm blood ran in his ingly, ferociously. she pecked on his nose, mouth. the taste of it was good. this which by now, what of previous adven- was meat, the same as his mother gave tures, was sore. he winced but held on. him, only it was alive between his teeth, she pecked him again and again. from and therefore better. so he ate the ptar- wincing he went to whimpering. he tried migan. nor did he stop till he had de to back away from her, oblivious of the voured the whole brood. then he licked fact that by his hold on her he dragged his chops in quite the same way his mother her after him. a rain of pecks fell on his did, and began to crawl out of the bush. ill-used nose. the flood of fight ebbed he encountered a feathered whirlwind. down in him, and, releasing his prey, he he was confused and blinded by the rush turned tail and scampered off across the of it and the beat of angry wings. he hid open in inglorious retreat. his head between his paws and yelped. he lay down to rest on the other side of the blows increased. the mother ptarmi- the open, near the edge of the bushes, his gan was in a fury. then he became angry. tongue lolling out, his chest heaving and he rose up, snarling, striking out with his panting, his nose still hurting him and paws. he sank his tiny teeth into one of causing him to continue his whimper. but the wings and pulled and tugged sturdily. as he lay there, suddenly there came to the ptarmigan struggled against him, him a feeling as of something terrible im- showering blows upon him with her free pending. the unknown with all its ter- wing. it was his first battle. he was elated. rors rushed upon him, and he shrank back he forgot all about the unknown. he no instinctively into the shelter of the bush. longer was afraid of anything. he was as he did so a draught of air fanned him, white fang and a large, winged body swept ominously been a long-established custom of his, he and silently past. a hawk, driving down struck out with all his legs and began to out of the blue, had barely missed him. swim. the near bank was a yard away; while he lay in the bush, recovering but he had come up with his back to it, from this fright and peering fearfully out, and the first thing his eyes rested upon was the mother ptarmigan, on the other side the opposite bank, toward which he im- of the open space, fluttered out of the rav mediately began to swim. the stream aged nest. it was because of her loss that was a small one, but in the pool it widened she paid no attention to the winged bolt out to a score of feet. of the sky. but the cub saw, and it was midway in the passage the current a warning and a lesson to him—the swift picked up the cub and swept him down- downward swoop of the hawk, the short stream. he was caught in the miniature skim of its body just above the ground, the rapid at the bottom of the pool. here was strike of its talons in the body of the ptar little chance for swimming. the quiet migan, the ptarmigan's squawk of agony water had become suddenly angry. some- and fright, and the hawk's rush upward times he was under, sometimes on top. into the blue, carrying the ptarmigan away at all times he was in violent motion, now with it. being turned over or around, and again it was a long time before the cub left being smashed against a rock. and with his shelter. he had learned much. live every rock he struck he yelped. his prog- things were meat. they were good to eat. ress was a series of yelps, from which might also, live things, when they were large have been adduced the number of rocks he enough, could give hurt. it was better to encountered. eat small live things like ptarmigan chicks, below the rapid was a second pool, and and to let alone large live things like ptar- here, captured by the eddy, he was gently migan hens. nevertheless he felt a little borne to the bank and as gently deposited prick of ambition, a sneaking desire to on a bed of gravel. he crawled franti- have another battle with that ptarmigan cally clear of the water and lay down. he hen-only the hawk had carried her away. had learned some more about the world. maybe there were other ptarmigan hens. water was not alive. yet it moved. also, he would go and see. it looked as solid as the earth, but was he came down a shelving bank to the without any solidity at all. his conclu- stream. he had never seen water before. sion was that things were not always what the footing looked good. there were no they appeared to be. the cub's fear of inequalities of surface. he stepped boldly the unknown was an inherited distrust, out on it, and went down, crying with fear, and it had now been strengthened by ex- into the embrace of the unknown. it was perience. thenceforth, in the nature of cold, and he gasped, breathing quickly. things, he would possess an abiding dis- the water rushed into his lungs instead of trust of appearances. he would have to the air that had always accompanied his learn the reality of a thing before he could act of breathing. the suffocation he ex put his faith into it. perienced was like the pang of death. to one other adventure was destined for him it signified death. he had no con him that day. he had recollected that scious knowledge of death, but like every there was such a thing in the world as his animal of the wild, he possessed the in mother. and then there came to him a stinct of death. to him it stood as the feeling that he wanted her more than all greatest of hurts. it was the very essence the rest of the things in the world. not of the unknown; it was the sum of the only was his body tired with the adven- terrors of the unknown, the one culmi tures he had undergone, but his little brain nating and unthinkable catastrophe that was equally tired. in all the days he had could happen to him, about which he knew lived it had not worked so hard as on this nothing and about which he feared every one day. furthermore, he was sleepy. thing. so he started out to look for the cave and he came to the surface, and the sweet his mother, feeling at the same time an air rushed into his open mouth. he did overwhelming rush of loneliness and help- not go down again. quite as though it had lessness. the outing magazine he saw the law of meat he was sprawling along between some the gray cub would have died, and there bushes, when he heard a sharp intimidating would have been no story to write about cry. there was a flash of yellow before his him, had not the she-wolf come bounding eyes. a weasel leaping swiftly through the bushes. the weasel let go away from him. it was a small live thing, the cub and flashed at the she-wolf's throat, and he had no fear. then, before him, at missing, but getting a hold on the jaw in- his feet, he saw an extremely small live stead. the she-wolf flirted her head like thing, only several inches long, a young the snap of a whip, breaking the weasel's weasel, that, like himself, had disobediently hold and flinging it high in the air. and, gone out adventuring. it tried to retreat still in the air, the she-wolf's jaws closed before him. he turned it over with his on the lean, yellow body, and the weasel paw. it made a queer, grating noise. knew death between the crunching teeth. the next moment the flash of yellow re the cub experienced another access of appeared before his eyes. he heard again affection on the part of his mother. her the intimidating cry, and at the same in- joy at finding him seemed greater even stant received a severe blow on the side of than his joy at being found. she nozzled the neck and felt the sharp teeth of the him and caressed him and licked the cuts mother weasel cut into his flesh. made in him by the weasel's teeth. then, while he yelped and ki-yi’d and scram between them, mother and cub, they ate bled backward, he saw the mother weasel the blood-drinker, and after that went leap upon her young one and disappear back to the cave and slept. with it into the neighboring thicket. the cut of her teeth in his neck still hurt, but chapter v his feelings were hurt more grievously, and he sat down and weakly whimpered. this mother weasel was so small and so savage! the cub's development was rapid. he he was yet to learn that for size and weight rested for two days, and then ventured the weasel was the most ferocious, vindic forth from the cave again. it was on this tive and terrible of all the killers of the adventure that he found the young weasel wild. but a portion of this knowledge whose mother he had helped eat, and he was quickly to be his. saw to it that the young weasel went the he was still whimpering when the mother way of its mother. but on this trip he did weasel reappeared. she did not rush him, not get lost. when he grew tired he found now that her young one was safe. she ap his way back to the cave and slept. and proached more cautiously, and the cub had every day thereafter found him out and full opportunity to observe her lean, snake ranging a wider area. · like body, and her head, erect, eager and he began to get an accurate measure- snake-like itself. her sharp, menacing cry ment of his strength and his weakness, sent the hair bristling along his back, and and to know when to be bold and when to he snarled warningly at her. she came be cautious. he found it expedient to be closer and closer. there was a leap, swifter cautious all the time, except for the rare than his unpracticed sight, and the lean, moments when, assured of his own intre- yellow body disappeared for a moment pidity, he abandoned himself to petty rages out of the field of vision. the next mo and lusts. ment she was at his throat, her teeth he was always a little demon of fury buried in his hair and flesh. when he chanced upon a stray ptarmigan. at first he snarled and tried to fight; but never did he fail to respond savagely to he was very young, and this was only his the chatter of the squirrel he had first met first day in the world, and his snarl became on the blasted pine, while the sight of a a whimper, his fight a struggle to escape. moose bird almost invariably put him into the weasel never relaxed her hold. she the wildest of rages; for he never forgot hung on, striving to press down with her the peck on the nose he had received from teeth to the great vein where his life-blood the first of that ilk he encountered. bubbled. the weasel was a drinker of but there were times when even a moose blood, and it was ever her preference to bird failed to affect him, and those were drink from the throat of life itself, times when he felt himself to be in danger - white fang from some other prowling meat-hunter. tried to dig them out of their burrows; he never forgot the hawk, and its moving and he learned much about the ways of shadow always sent him crouching into the moose birds and woodpeckers. and there nearest thicket. he no longer sprawled came a day when the hawk's shadow did and straddled, and already he was develop not drive him crouching into the bushes. ing the gait of his mother, slinking and he had grown stronger, and wiser, and furtive, apparently without exertion, yet more confident. also, he was desperate. sliding along with a swiftness that was as so he sat on his haunches, conspicuously, deceptive as it was imperceptible. in an open space, and challenged the hawk in the matter of meat, his luck had been down out of the sky. for he knew that all in the beginning. the seven ptarmigan there, floating in the blue above him, was chicks and the baby weasel represented meat, the meat his stomach yearned after the sum of his killings. his desire to kill so insistently. but the hawk refused to strengthened with the days, and he cher come down and give battle, and the cub ished hungry ambitions for the squirrel crawled away into a thicket and whimpered that chattered so volubly and always in his disappointment and hunger. formed all wild creatures that the wolf-cub the famine broke. the she-wolf brought was approaching. but as birds flew in home meat. it was strange meat, different the air, squirrels could climb trees, and the from any she had ever brought before. it cub could only try to crawl unobserved was a lynx kitten, partly grown, like the upon the squirrel when it was on the cub, but not so large. and it was all for ground. him. his mother had satisfied her hunger the cub entertained a great respect for elsewhere; though he did not know that it his mother. she could get meat, and she was the rest of the lynx litter that had gone never failed to bring him his share. fur to satisfy her. nor did he know the des- ther, she was unafraid of things. it did perateness of her deed. he knew only not occur to him that this fearlessness was that the velvet-furred kitten was: meat, founded upon experience and knowledge. and he ate and waxed happier with every its effect on him was that of an impression mouthful. of power. his mother represented power; a full stomach conduces to inaction, and and as he grew older he felt this power in the cub lay in the cave, sleeping against his the sharper admonishment of her paw; mother's side. he was aroused by her while the reproving nudge of her nose gave snarling. never had he heard her snarl place to the slash of her fangs. for this, so terribly. possibly in her whole life it likewise, he respected his mother. she was the most terrible snarl she ever gave. compelled obedience from him, and the there was reason for it, and none knew older he grew the shorter grew her temper. it better than she. a lynx's lair is not famine came again, and the cub with despoiled with impunity. in the full glare clearer consciousness knew once more the of the afternoon light, crouching in the bite of hunger. the she-wolf ran herself entrance of the cave, the cub saw the lynx thin in the quest for meat. she rarely mother. the hair rippled up all along his slept any more in the cave, spending most back at the sight. here was fear, and it of her time on the meat trail and spending did not require his instinct to tell him of it vainly. this famine was not a long one, it. and if sight alone were not sufficient but it was severe while it lasted. the cub the cry of rage the intruder gave, begin- found no more milk in his mother's breast, ning with a snarl and rushing abruptly up- nor did he get one mouthful of meat for ward into a hoarse screech, was convincing himself. enough in itself. before, he had hunted in play, for the the cub felt the prod of the life that was sheer joyousness of it; now he hunted in in him, and stood up and snarled valiantly deadly earnestness, and found nothing. by his mother's side. but she thrust him yet the failure of it accelerated his de ignominiously away and behind her. be- velopment. he studied the habits of the cause of the low-roofed entrance the lynx squirrel with greater carefulness, and strove could not leap in, and when she made a with greater craft to steal upon it and sur crawling rush of it the she-wolf sprang upon prise it. he studied the wood-mice and her and pinned her down. the cub saw the outing magazine little of the battle. there was a tremen with its mysteries and terrors, intangible dous snarling and spitting and screeching. and ever-menacing. the two animals threshed about, the lynx he began to accompany his mother on ripping and tearing with her claws and the meat trail, and he saw much of the kill- using her teeth as well, while the she-wolf ing of meat and began to play his part in used her teeth alone. it. and in his own dim way he learned once, the cub sprang in and sank his the law of meat. there were two kinds of teeth into the hind leg of the lynx. he life_his own kind and the other kind. clung on, growling savagely. though he his own kind included his mother and did not know it, by the weight of his body himself. the other kind included all live he clogged the action of the leg and thereby things that moved. but the other kind saved his mother much damage. a change was divided. one portion was what his in the battle crushed him under both their own kind killed and ate. this portion bodies and wrenched loose his hold. the was composed of the non-killers and the next moment the two mothers separated, small killers. the other portion killed and and, before they rushed together again, ate his own kind, or was killed and eaten by the lynx lashed out at the cub with a huge his own kind. and out of this classifica- fore paw that ripped his shoulder open to tion arose the law. the aim of life was the bone and sent him hurtling sidewise meat. life itself was meat. life lived against the wall. then was added to the on life. there were the eaters and the uproar the cub's shrill yelp of pain and eaten. the law was: eat or be eaten. fright. but the fight lasted so long that he did not formulate the law in clear, set he had time to cry himself out and to ex terms and moralize about it. he did not perience a second burst of courage; and even think the law; he merely lived the the end of the battle found him again law without thinking about it at all. clinging to a hind leg and furiously growl he saw the law operating around him on ing between his teeth. every side. he had eaten the ptarmigan the lynx was dead. but the she-wolf chicks. the ha vk had eaten the ptarmi- was very weak and sick. at first she gan mother. the hawk would also have caressed the cub and licked his wounded eaten him. later, when he had grown shoulder; but the blood she had lost had more formidable, he wanted to eat the taken with it her strength, and for all of a hawk. he had eaten the lynx kitten. day and a night she lay by her dead foe's the lynx mother would have eaten him side, without movement, scarcely breath had she not herself been killed and eaten. ing. for a week she never left the cave, and so it went. the law was being lived except for water, and then her movements about him by all live things, and he him- were slow and painful. at the end of that self was part and parcel of the law. he time the lynx was devoured, while the she was a killer. his only food was meat, live wolf's wounds had healed sufficiently to meat, that ran away swiftly before him, permit her to take the meat trail again. or flew into the air, or climbed trees, or hid the cub's shoulder was stiff and sore, in the ground, or faced him and fought and for some time he limped from the ter with him, or turned the tables and ran rible slash he had received. but the world after him. now seemed changed. he went about in had the cub thought in man-fashion, he it with greater confidence, with a feeling might have epitomized life as a voracious of prowess that had not been his in the appetite, and the world as a place wherein days before the battle with the lynx. he ranged a multitude of appetites, pursuing had looked upon life in a more ferocious and being pursued, hunting and being aspect; he had fought; he had buried his hunted, eating and being eaten, all in teeth in the flesh of a foe; and he had sur blindness and confusion, with violence and vived. and because of all this he carried disorder, a chaos of gluttony and slaughter, himself more boldly, with a touch of de ruled over by chance, merciless, endless. fiance that was new in him. he was no but the cub did not think in man-fashion. longer afraid of minor things, and much he did not look at things with wide vision. of his timidity had vanished, though the he was single-purposed, and entertained unknown never ceased to press upon him but one thought or desire at a time. be- white fang - sides the law of meat there were a myriad tions. to have a full stomach, to doze other and lesser laws for him to learn and lazily in the sunshine-such things were obey. the world was filled with surprise. remuneration in full for his ardors and the stir of the life that was in him, the play toils; while his ardors and toils were in of his muscles, was an unending happiness. themselves self-remunerative. they were to run down meat was to experience thrills expressions of life, and life is always happy and elations. his rages and battles were when it is expressing itself. so the cub pleasures. terror itself, and the mystery had no quarrel with his hostile environ- of the unknown, lent to his living. ment. he was very much alive, very and there were easements and satisfac- happy and very proud of himself. (to be continued.) mount baker from baker lake. the cholas dress in gaudy shawls and jewelry, with the omnipresent bundle held on their backs by vari-colored fajas. on the road to quaint la paz by w. t. burres, m.d. copyright photographs by the author c° omparatively few travelers along the line, do not inspire one with reach the plateaus of the central insatiable longing to repeat the journey. andes, the majority vaguely peo however, such is the easiest and quickest pling south america with savages. it is way of reaching puno, the peruvian port true that in the amazon and the orinoco which rests on the western shore of the basins, and in other isolated sections, ab lake, at , feet elevation. solute savages roam unacquainted with a stay in the cold, uninteresting town civilized man; but the entire coast coun is hardly enjoyable, but two sights are try, and many miles inland, furnish a va worth the traveler's attention. one is a riety of interesting sights which well re really beautiful view from a rocky hill just pay the long and at times inconvenient west of the town, where the beholder is journey. removed from the unwashed people and the the first thought of the south american malodorous and unsanitary streets which traveler should be of the prehistoric peo characterize spanish-american towns. the ples that have left cyclopean ruins in an second object of interest is the old cathe- almost continuous line from colombia to dral, built in the time of pizarro, and still bolivia. the present inhabitants are a standing firm and intact. mongrel product of various bloods, and the market, stores and buildings do not interesting merely as a study of degener merit comment. the water front, how- ative changes following indiscriminate ra ever, presents some novel features, chief cial mixing. exception must be made, of which are the numerous native boats, however, to large regions populated almost called balsas, which are made of reeds and entirely by quechua, aymara, and other rushes ingeniously bound together with indians that are doubtless in the same fiber cords and vary in length from thir- relative state they were thousands of years teen to twenty feet. they carry two up- ago. right wooden poles which support the reed- the object of this article is not to discuss mat sail. not a particle of metal enters the origin and history of these races, but into the construction and the balsa is un- to tell of a journey across lake titicaca to sinkable, but after a few weeks of usage the ruins of tiaguanaco and quaint old becomes water-logged and clumsy. with la paz. a favoring breeze fair time is possible, but to reach the lake, which is about three in a calm or against the wind they are hundred miles from the pacific coast, re poled over the shallow margins of the quires two days by rail from the seaport lake. the indian generally carries his of mollendo, with a stop over night at family, dogs, sheep and other possessions arequipa. especially is the second day in his balsa, as well as skins, potatoes and uncertain in its possibilities, for the anti other articles of barter which he exchanges quated engines are subject to breakdown at the stores for utensils or donates to the at any moment. the added probability priests; but the greater portion is convert- of suffering from mountain sickness in the ed into alcohol on which he becomes glori- high altitudes, and the poor food procurable ously drunk, together with his squaw and the market at puno-a beggar on the right. friends. he is a stupid, shiftless, and numerous waterfowl are seen all over the degenerate animal—the peruvian indian. shallow portions of the lake; ducks, gulls, two small steamers ply between puno snipe, and still more noticeable are many and the port of guaqui on the bolivian flocks of flamingoes. fish may be seen at side, over a hundred miles distant, and it any time in the clear, cold water, but none is difficult to realize one is navigating at of them is large. some varieties furnish two and a half miles above sea level. good food and are consumed in quantities quechua indian types, who live as did their ancestors a thousand years ago. on the road to quaint la paz by the indians, and served in the hotels of laughter and merry-making issue from the puno and la paz. on reaching the princi- on reaching the princi- stupid, unromantic indian as he views his pal body of the lake the wind increases, the beautiful surroundings. stolidly he fol- waves become choppy, the steamer pitches lows the beaten path of centuries, repeat- and rolls disagreeably, and few escape sea ing the monotonous life of his ancestors, sickness. land fades from view and the with neither the ability nor the desire to sensation of traveling at sea is complete. advance. he simply forms a unit among as the steamer nears from time to time the myriads of inferior races that since the irregular coast line, the surrounding time immemorial have lived their aimless hills show frequent villages and horizontal lives and complicated the great human lines, indicating the terraces of cultivated problem. patches, dotted with grazing sheep and as the snowy range of mountains—the llamas. the pride of bo- passengers al- livia-comes ways look into view far eagerly for off in the east, the famous the steamer island of ti- reaches an- ticaca, the other narrow fount of inca channel, traditions, bumps from which is chief one side to of a small the other, and archipelago draws up to measuring the wharf at about three guaqui. this by seven small port is miles, and not attractive contains a with its new number of buildings and ruins of or- galvanized dinary work- iron roofs, manship, but new and much inferior comfortable to those of american cuzco. cars carry the several traveler the hours before three or four reaching gua- hours jour- qui the boat ney across the follows plateau which deep, narrow separates this strait between from the other islands of con- new and gal- siderable buildings overlooking a stream that runs through la paz. vanized-roof beauty, whose station of alto picturesque villages give them an air of la paz, lying above the valley of the capi- importance, each town having its con tal city. the ride is over a long, narrow spicuous chapel, often dilapidated and an valley, bounded on either side by low, culti- cient in appearance. the rolling hills as vated hills. cattle, llamas, donkeys and usual are well cultivated, with fields of sheep are numerous and seem to thrive well barley and potatoes which alternate with enough on the scanty vegetation. many bright red and purple patches of quinoa. sections of the valley bed are planted, and balsas spread their unique sails across the the remainder show furrows of former culti- strait or skirt the rush-lined shore, but no vation. the soil is not rich and evidently song is wafted across the water. no will not mature crops. mile after mile a - the balsas on lake titicaca are made of reeds and rushes ingeniously bound together with fiber cords. on the road to quaint la paz shows nothing but gravel, while approach of the numerous coaches which await each ing the alto continuous gravel beds of great train, he begins a forty minute drive which depth are disclosed by the cuts and excava he will never forget. almost immediately tions of railroad construction. in all direc a sharp turn reveals a panoramic view of tions, and from fifty to one hundred feet beauty rarely seen, and difficult to describe. apart, are mounds of surface rocks which ages of weather wear have cut out the the indians have gathered in order that la paz valley, carrying away the loose the soil might be made cultivable. gravel, dissolving successive layers of vol- the most important and the first station canic mud and ash, leaving fantastic earth- out of guaqui is tiaguanaco, the goal of pyramids to act as sentinels along the well- every, south american traveler interested demarcated rim. to the north-east the in archæology. the sadly neglected con snow-covered huaina potosi, though many dition of these monuments of a former re leagues distant, looks over the rim, and markable race stands for a government's twenty-five miles to the south-east the crime. bolivia must face the shame of majestic mountain of illimani, held in having allowed their indiscriminate and superstitious awe by the indians, raises its avaricious destruction by bands of so , feet of snow- and ice-covered rock called scientists. arches and walls have as an immovable guardian of the whole been thrown down in the mad search for region. on the south and west the earth- hidden golden treasure. hewn blocks and pyramids fade away in hazy colors. fif- carved images have been removed to build teen hundred feet below nestles red-roofed and adorn “modern” buildings; and even la paz in peaceful quietude, as if conscious the statues remaining have been disfigured of the protecting influence of the mountain by vandals who have used them as targets barriers. for gun practice. eyes and ears, scroll the rattling coach soon brought us back work and hieroglyphics have been in part to practical thoughts as it dashed down the destroyed by bullets whose lead splashes winding road and around the curves un- are now visible. and more. sordid treas der the reckless care of a native driver. ure seekers have carried away for general reaching the outskirts of the town we ran sale images, ornaments, utensils, etc., etc., into a six-horse freight team, and were and in their mad and ignorant search have thus delayed a quarter of an hour extri- destroyed rare ceramic treasures of whose cating the horses, which proved tractable, value they were ignorant. due, probably, to many like experiences. grand though they are even in desola many interesting features arrest the at- tion, the present state of these ruins, as the tention of the traveler at la paz, which direct result of gross vandalism, arouses is so far from the beaten path that it is the indignation and the sorrow of the little changed by foreign contact. a lim- traveler. excavations extend in all direc ited number of electric lights and tele- tions, but the work is not yet half done. it phones are the only up-to-date improve- should be carried on in a scientific manner ments. no tramways are seen, or other under government control, so the archæ modern means of altering the primitive ological world may be enriched by what life. a goodly number of german and ever discoveries are made. being upon a french, a few english, and perhaps a nearly level site, the ruins of tiaguanaco dozen american residents make up the are not so imposing as those of cuzco and foreign total of , inhabitants. a ollantay-tambo, but they are probably military band plays twice a week in the older by centuries and represent a some plaza, when the people promenade — the what higher civilization, if that term may aristocratic portion walking back and forth be applied to the achievements of a semi on the upper side of the square, instead of barbaric people. encircling it as they do in all other spanish- the traveler arrives at the alto with the american towns which i have visited. the pampa and the low (measured from the young men congregate to stare at the young valley bed) hills behind him; to the left ladies, who are seldom on the streets at glisten the snow and the glaciers of lofty other times. i did not see a single beau- andean peaks, and in front is the sharp tiful woman at the many such gatherings rim of the hidden valley. boarding one i attended, but there are, however, pretty the outing magazine types among the chola class, as that mix- custom. saturdays and sundays are the ture of spanish, indian and foreign blood days of greatest activity, when hundreds is called. little glazed hats, high-heeled of indians arrive from the surrounding shoes and fancy stockings which are dis country. flowers are very abundant, and played by very short skirts, form the dis fruits also when in season, but the latter tinctive dress of the cholas. gaudy are expensive and of inferior quality. shawls and jewelry, with the omnipresent jaguar and leopard skins and gaudy bundle held on their backs by vari-colored feathers brought from the beni region be- fajas, are also a part of their makeup. yond the cordillera, bright-colored indian their usually pretty teeth, eyes and nat blankets, belts of intricate design, woolen ural ruddy color give them an appearance hoods and vicuña ponchos are also on sale. so pleasing as to have made them famous la paz, which is the center of what in southern countries. especially on the culture exists in bolivia, is admitted by the numerous feast days do they bedeck them authorities to contain ninety per cent. of selves in great splendor. those of chola illiterates, and doubtless the estimate is blood are widely separated from the stupid as favorable as possible. several roman and unattractive indians, but cannot as catholic schools exist where a narrow, ele- pire to the inner aristocratic circle. mentary education is given; also a univer- as the capital city, la paz is the social sity with various departments, including and political center, and its streets present law, medicine and theology. several able an animated business-like appearance, the physicians practice in the city, but they volume of commerce carried being enor were educated in foreign schools. the the- mous. competition is exceedingly keen ological department receives its crude ma- in all lines, and the great number of stores terial from almost any source, and many of every description creates wonderment of the priests are liberally supplied with among sight-seers as to where the buyers indian blood, some of them low-browed, come from. in addition to the shops is immoral loafers, whom any amount of also one of the largest outdoor markets in training would never convert into men of south america, where in a big, many- high ideals. stalled building every article and variety the prado is a wide street converted of product under the bolivian sun is placed into a promenade by eucalyptus and other on sale. in the streets adjoining hundreds trees, and several creditable statues and of women sit on the curbing or paving fountains; it provides a very refreshing stones, each with her stock of merchandise retreat from the motley crowds of the placed in view on the ground to attract streets. in june by matilda hughes a quiet hour beneath the trees; a little, whispering, lazy breeze; a perfect sky, where, now and then, an idle cloud strayed from its mates to wander by, and near the border of the wood a thrush that sang, serene and strong, the flute notes of the perfect song we almost understood; then eventide--and in the light the mystery that preludes the night, photograph by a. b. phelan. “and all the fish that he did catch were in his mother's pail." his battle by norman h. crowell i " i was rather late in the evening when terms with 'im-brace up strong! if the battle-scarred veteran hitched his them fellers are goin' to tackle us while chair out from behind the stove and me 'n jabe wiggins is here, they'll get coughed ever so slightly as he stole a somethin' they ain't a-hankerin' fer,' glance at the proprietor, who was wiping says. the bar. “that tickled th' general a heap, i could “boys,” said he, “i've been through a see, an' he onbuckled th' saddle agin. good many things that the heft o' you fel “thanky, jim,' says he, 'yer th' lers would agree was middlin' tough, but bravest sojer i ever see,' says he, an' grant the wust i ever was through was turkey never said them same words to no other ridge. ever hear o' turkey ridge?" person afore ner sinst. he cast an eagle eye at the circle of “i teched my hat an' bowed half way to bronzed faces and smiled wearily as he th' ground, for th' braver a man is th' per- moved his gaze in the direction of the liter he allus gits-ever notice it? proprietor. “well, about four o'clock next mornin' "what kind of a disease is it, cap?” in th' bugle busted loose an’ we heard a ter- terrogated an individual in a far corner. rific hullabaloo from down below. i stuck the veteran stiffened. my head out o'th' tent flap an' see th' “it was th' dingdongdest kind of a enemy a-chargin' rippity-snort right at maulin' match that took place durin'th' us, laying behin' their ponies' necks an’ hull war, an' fer one l’nı mighty glad i got yellin' their war-whoops to beat all git--" out alive. why, out o'thirty-seven hun "war-whoops?" ejaculated the proprie- derd men that went into it all i ever see tor. arterward was me 'n jabe wiggins. i "exactly, sir, an' when up'rds o'twenty- tell ye, th’ way us two fellers stood with our two thousand man-eatin' sioux injuns are backs agin' each other an’ fit was a cau whoopin' all to once like they did at tur- tion to key ridge, i want to tell ye it interferes "when was this eppysode, cap?” broke with sleepin'. in a minute them savages in the proprietor, as he poised the towel in begun firin’arrers in onto us thicker 'n mid-air. hailstuns, an' then come tommyhawks an' the veteran glanced up quickly and ex bowie knives in a manner fit to make a posed his snaggy gums. statoo nervous. “febbywary th' 'leventh, ' ," said he. “me 'n jabe was gettin' our clothes on “we was under grant an' we'd been about as lively as we could under th' cir- brushin' up agin' ol' stunwall jackson till cumstances an' i says to jabe, says i: we'd got reduced down to jest twenty “jabe, there's only nine hundred of us eight hunderd fightin'men. in this here trap, an' if i die ye'll tell th’ was on a big slope, an' one day we got word folks about it, i reckon ?' that th' johnnies was congregatin' down “i will, jim,' says he. below us about fifteen thousand strong. “'tell 'em how it was—fightin' to th’ they had us cornered all right and things last-ammynition all gone, sword broke looked blue for the ol' twenty-ninth, i off to th' hilt, an’ wallerin' in blood?' tell ye. grant was a-saddlin' up his racin' “i'll tell 'em jest how it was, jim,' he hoss to make his escape when i goes over says. an' slaps 'im on th’ shoulder. *an' i'll do th’ same for you,' says i. “brace up, simp, old boy!' i says “then we grabs our guns an’ steps out, allus called 'im simp, bein' on sech good an' there was th’ hull intire mexikin army our camp his battle gun at 'em!' a-circlin' round us led by ol' santy anny “we'll show them rebs a set o' tactics hisself on a pink pinto. me 'n jabe drops jim,' says jabe, in a whisper; 'p'int yer on one knee an' begins sawin' into them greasers like a man mowin' corn, but they “then he gives stunwall a leetle boost kep' a-comin'. there was thirty-one thou from behind an' hollers: sand of 'em in thet bunch. i reckon th' “hep! hep! right about face- rick o'carkisses in front o'me 'n jabe was double-quick-march!' all o’ five foot high, every man in it hit "well, we'd marched them fellers a plunk in th’ eye, fer us two fellers was good sixteen mile down th' slope when all about th' deadest shots there was in grant's of a sudden ki! yi! and round a bend in th' army at that time. road came th’darndest snarl o' painted “but our boys was droppin' like saplin's blood-huntin' apaches-about sixty-three an’ th’ confedrits, led by lee on a milk thousand of 'em-a-whoopin' it up th' white stallion, was a-pressin' us close. wust i ever heard. we see to once they purty soon i heard th' bugle tootin' a re had broke out o’ th' reservation an' was treat an' i looks acrost to jabe. on th' warpath with all four feet. “shell we run?' says i. “they had their skinnin' knives in their “never!' says jabe. we'll fight it out teeth an’ was hammeriri' their cayuses like on this line if it takes all summer!' a blind man poundin' a ca:,'et. “arter th’ battle i heard it said as how “halt!' yells jabe to th' ariny. load it was grant who spoke them words, but yer guns!' it wa’n’t grant-it was my ol' bunkie, “stunwall,' says he, 'i'm a-goin' to jabe wiggins. parole ye long enough fer ye to wipe out “well, our boys skedaddled—what there them redskins. will ye do it?' was left of 'em-an' there was us two “ with pleasure!' says stunwall, bowin' a-stan'in' off them forty-five thousand till he could see the sky between his knees. naked pawnee bucks with our trusty rifles. “git at it, then!' says jabe, an' he time an’agin they rushed us, an' once they turned ’im loose. got so close that one of 'em picked jabe's "well, me'n jabe set there on a big pocket, but we clubbed 'em back. rock an’ superintended one o' th' wooli- "jest about this time i happens to look est gougin' fights that has took place sinst back over my shoulder, an' there was oľ c’lumbus discovered ameriky. it was nip stunwall hisself a-straddle of his sorrel an' tuck from th' drop o' th' hat. them hoss a-chargin' down lickity-larrup at th' apaches was as game as a baskit o' stale head o' fifty-two thousand picked men. eggs, an' they rid right up agin th’ rebs’ “it's all up, jabe!' says i, as i give my eyelashes time an' agin. faithful pard a nudge with the hot end o’ “we'd been settin' there 'bout two hours my rifle. enjoyin' that fight, an' arter a while we “jabe looks around an' then pulls his both fell sound asleep. but in less 'n a plug an' gnaws a quid offen one corner minute th’oregon, which was cruisin' in afore he spoke. th' harbor, opened up with her -incher, “o'pears like it!' was his words, an' i an'th' fust shot hit that rock square in th’ guess i'll never fergit 'em. collar bone—an’ say! it woke me 'n jabe “they was purty nigh onto us when up about as quick as ye could crack a somethin' happened. th' ol' sorrel stepped walnut! th’ rock was nowhere to be seen, onto a dead injun an' throwed stunwall an' what do ye suppose had took place?” right into jabe's arms. jabe grabs 'im an’ the speaker glanced appealingly toward waves his free hand at th' army. the proprietor. “back!' says he, ‘back, or i'll be under “what was it?" said the latter. th' painful necessity o' harmin' stunwall!' "well, sir-jabe had had a touch o’ “notice th’ perliteness o' jabe in th' nightmare an' rolled out agin th' center- face o' danger—it's onusual, sech perlite- pole. thet loosened th’ camp kittle an' ness is. she come down kerwhang square into my “th’ army throwed itself back onto its solar plexum. it knocked th' wind clean haunches an’ looked at us perfectly help -eh? why- -certainly! i'll take a less. nip o' that 'leven-year-old, dave!" hoe drawing by frank e. schoonover. "hopalong's colts peeped over the ears of his horse, and he backed into a corner near the bar." - - bar range yarns iv.-hopalong keeps his word by clarence edward mulford t \he waters of the rio grande slid he came to himself and laughed again placidly toward the gulf, the hot as he thought of carmencita, the first girl sun branding the sleepy waters with he had ever known—and the last. with a streaks of molten fire. to the north arose boy's impetuosity he had wooed her in a from the gray sandy plain the quitman manner far different from that of the peons mountains, and beyond them lay bass who sang beneath her window and talked cañon. from the latter emerged a soli to her mother. he had boldly scaled the tary figure astride a broncho, and, as he wall and did his courting in her house, ascended the topmost rise, he glanced be- trusting to luck and to his own ability to low him at the placid stream and beyond avoid being seen. no hidden meaning lay it into mexico. as he sat quietly in his in his words; he spoke from his heart and saddle he smiled and laughed gently to with no concealment. and he remembered himself. the trail he had just followed the treachery that had forced him, fighting, had been replete with trouble which had to the camp of his outfit; and when he had suited the state of his mind, and he now returned with his friends she had disap- felt humorous, having cleaned up a press- peared. to this day he hated that mud- ing debt with his six-shooter. surely there walled convent and those sisters who so ought to be a mild sort of excitement in the easily forgot how to talk. the fragrance land he faced, something picturesque and of the old days wrapped themselves around out of the ordinary. this was to be the him, and although he had ceased to pine finishing touch to his trip, and he had left for his black-eyed carmencita — well, it his two companions at albuquerque in would be nice if he chanced to see her again. order that he might have to himself all that spurring his mount into an easy canter he he could find. swept down to and across the river, fording not many miles to the south of him lay it where he had crossed it when pursuing the town which had been the rendezvous tamale josé. of tamale josé, whose weakness had been the town lay indolent under the mexican a liking for other people's cattle. well he night, and the strumming of guitars and remembered his first man hunt: the dis the tinkle of spurs and tiny bells softly covery of the theft, the trail and pursuit echoed from several houses. the convent and—the ending. he was scarcely eigh- of st. maria lay indistinct in its heavy teen years of age when that event took shadows, and the little church farther up place, and the wisdom he had absorbed then the dusty street showed dim lights in its had stood him in good stead many times stained windows. off to the north be- since. he had even now a touch of pride came audible the rhythmic beat of a horse, at the recollection how, when his older and soon a cowboy swept past the convent companions had failed to get tamale josé, with a mocking bow. he clattered across he with his undeveloped strategy had the stone-paved plaza and threw his mount gained that end. the fight would never be back on its haunches as he stopped before forgotten, as it was his first, and no sight a house. glancing around and determin- of wounds would ever affect him as did ing to find out a few facts as soon as possi- those of red connors as he lay huddled ble, he rode up to the low door and pounded up in the dark corner of that old adobe hut. upon it with the butt of his colt. after the outing magazine waiting for possibly half a minute and re what yu said was a window? ah, come on ceiving no response, he hammered a tune an’ open th' door-i'd shore like to see yu upon it with two colts, and had the satis- again!" pleaded the irrepressible. faction of seeing half a score of heads pro “no! no! go away. oh, won't you trude from the windows in the near-by please go away!” houses. hopalong sighed audibly and turned his "if i could scare up another gun i might horse. as he did so he heard the door open get th’ whole blamed town up,” he grum and a sigh reached his ears. he wheeled bled whimsically, and fell on the door with like a flash and found the door closed again another tune. on its chain. a laugh of delight came from “who is it?" came from within. the behind it. voice was distinctly feminine and hopa "come out, please!-just for a minute," long winked to himself in congratulation. he begged, wishing that he was brave “me,” he replied, twirling his fingers from enough to smash the door to splinters and his nose at the curious, forgetting that the grab her. darkness hid his actions from sight. “if i do, will you go away?" asked the “yes, i know; but who is 'me'?” came girl. “oh, what will manuel say if he from the house. comes? and all those people, they'll tell “ain't i a fool!” he complained to him him!” self, and raising his voice he replied coax “hey, yu!" shouted hopalong, brandish- ingly, “open th' door a bit an' see. are ing his colts at the protruding heads. “git yu carmencita?" scarce! i'll shore plug th’ last one in!" " - - ! but you must tell me who it then he laughed at the sudden vanishing. is first." the door slowly opened and carmencita, “mr. cassidy,” he replied, flushing at the fat and frowsy, wobbled out to him. hopa- ‘mister,' "an' i wants to see carmencita.” long's feelings were interfering with his “carmencita who?” teasingly came from breathing as he surveyed her. "oh, yu behind the door. shore are mistaken, mrs. carmencita. i hopalong scratched his head. "gee, wants to see yore daughter!" yu've roped me— suppose she has got “ah, you have forgotten the little car- another handle. oh, yu know-she used mencita who used to look for you. like to live here about seven years back. she all the men, you have forgotten,” she cooed had great big black eyes, pretty cheeks reproachfully. then her fear predomi- an' a mouth that 'ud stampede anybody. nated again and she cried, “oh, if my hus- don't yu know now? she was about so band should see me now!" high,” holding out his hand in the darkness. hopalong mastered his astonishment and the door opened a trifle on a chain, and bowed. he had a desire to ride madly into hopalong peered eagerly forward. the rio grande and collect his senses. “ah, it is you, the brave americano! "yu are right-this is too dangerous- you must go away quick or you will meet l'll amble on some,” he replied hastily. with harm. manuel is awfully jealous and under his breath he prayed that the outfit he will kill you! go at once, please!" would never learn of this. he turned his hopalong pulled at the half-hearted down horse and rode slowly up the street as the upon his lip and laughed softly. then he door closed. slid the guns back in their holsters and felt rounding the corner he heard a soft foot- of his sombrero. fall, and swerving in his saddle, he turned “manuel wants to see me first, star and struck with all his might in the face of eyes?” a man who leaped at him, at the same time “no! no!” she replied, stamping upon grasping the uplifted wrist with his other the floor vehemently. “you must go now hand. a curse and the tinkle of thin steel --at once!” on the pavement accompanied the fall of “i'd shore look nice hittin' th' trail be his opponent. bending down from his sad- cause manuel somebody wants to get hurt, dle he picked up the weapon, and the next wouldn't ? don't yu remember how i minute the enraged assassin was staring used to shinny up this here wall an' skin into the unwavering and, to him, growing th' cat gettin' through that hole up there muzzle of a colt's . . bar range yarns “yu shore had a bum teacher. don't “shore, go home. i'll just circulate yu know better'n to push it in? an' me a around some for exercise. no hard feel- cow-puncher, too! i'm most grieved at ings, only yu better throw it next time,” yore conduct-it shows yu don't appre he said as he backed away and rode off. ciate cow-wrastlers. this is safer," he re manuel went down the street and then ran marked, throwing the stiletto through the into the saloon, where he caused an uproar. air and into a door, where it rang out hopalong rode to the end of the plaza angrily and quivered. “i don't know as and tried to sing, but it was a dismal failure. i wants to ventilate yu; we mostly poisons then he felt thirsty and wondered why he coyotes up my way,” he added. then a hadn't thought of it before. turning his thought struck him. “yu must be that dear horse and seeing the saloon he rode up to manuel l've been hearin' so much about?” it and in, lying flat on the animal's neck a snarl was the only reply and hopalong to avoid being swept off by the door frame. grinned. his entrance scared white some half a “yu shore ain't got no call to go loco dozen loungers, who immediately sprang that way, none whatever. i don't want up in a decidedly hostile manner. hopa- yore carmencita. i only called to say hul long's colts peeped over the ears of his loo," responded hopalong, his sympathies horse and he backed into a corner near the being aroused for the wounded man before bar. him from his vivid recollection of the wom “one, two, three — now, altogether, an who had opened the door. breathe! yu acts like yu never saw a real “yah!" snarled manuel. “you wants puncher afore. all th' same," he remarked, to poison my little bird. you with your nodding at several in the crowd, “i've seen fair hair and your cursed swagger!" yu afore. yu are th' gents with th' hot- the six-shooter tentatively expanded foot get-a-way that vamoosed when we got and then stopped six inches from the mex tamale." ican's nose. “yu wants to ride easy, hom curses were flung at him and only the bre. i ain't no angel, but i don't poison humorous mood he was in saved trouble. no woman; an' don't yu amble off with th' one, bolder than the rest, spoke up: “the idea in yore head that she wants to be señor will not see any ‘hotfoot get-a-way,' poisoned. why, she near stuck a knife in as he calls it, now! the señor was not wise me!” he lied. to go so far away from his friends!” the mexican's face brightened somewhat, hopalong looked at the speaker, and a but it would take more than that to wipe quizzical grin slowly spread over his face. out the insult of the blow. the horse be “they'll shore feel glad when i tells them came restless, and when hopalong had yu was askin' for 'em. but didn't yu see effectively quieted it he spoke again. too much of 'em once, or was yu poundin' “did yu ever hear of tamale josé?” leather in the other direction? yu don't “yes." want to worry none about me—an' if yu "well, i'm th' fellow that stopped him don't get yore hands closter to yore neck in th' 'dobe hut by th' arroyo. i'm tellin' they'll be - to pay! there, that's more yu this so yu won't do nothin'rash an' like home,” he remarked, nodding assur- leave carmencita a widow. sabe?”. ance. the hate on the mexican's face redou reaching over he grasped a bottle and bled, and he took a short step forward, poured out a drink, his colt slipping from but stopped when the muzzle of the colt his hand and dangling from his wrist by a kissed his nose. he was the brother of thong. as the weapon started to fall sev- tamale josé. as he backed away from eral of the audience involuntarily moved the cool touch of the weapon he thought as if to pick it up. hopalong noticed this out swiftly his revenge. some of his and paused with the glass half way to his brother's old companions were at that mo lips. “don't bother yoreselves none; i ment drinking mescal in a saloon down the can git it again," he said, tossing off the street, and they would be glad to see this liquor. americano die. he glanced past his house “wow! holy smoke!” he yelled. “this at the saloon and hopalong misconstrued ain't drink! sufferin' coyotes, nobody can his thoughts. accuse yu of sellin' liquor! did yu niake the outing magazine over. this all by yoreself?” he asked incredu- insignia of sheriff. hopalong complied, lously of the proprietor, who didn't know but as his hands went up two spurts of whether to run or to pray. then he no fire shot forth and the sheriff dropped his ticed that the crowd was spreading out, weapon, reeled and sat down. hopalong and his colts again became the center of rode over to him and, swinging down, interest. picked up the gun and looked the officer “yu with th' lovely face, sit down !" he ordered as the person addressed was gliding "shoo, yu'll be all right soon—yore only toward the door. “i ain't a-goin' to let plugged in th' arms,” he remarked as he yu pot me from th' street. th’ first man glanced up the street. shadowy forms who tries to git scarce will stop something were gliding from cover to cover, and he hot. an' yu all better sit down,” he sug- immediately caused consternation among gested, sweeping them with his guns. one them by his accuracy. man, more obdurate than the rest, was slow "ain't it h- ?" he complained to the in complying, and hopalong sent a bullet wounded man. “i never starts out but through the top of his high sombrero, which what somebody makes me shoot 'em. came had a most gratifying effect. down here to see a girl, an' finds she's mar- "you'll regret this!" hissed a man in the ried. then when i moves on peaceable rear, and a murmur of assent arose. some like, her husband makes me hit him. then one stirred slightly in searching for a weap i wants a drink, an' he goes an' fans a knife on, and immediately a blazing colt froze at me, an' me just teachin' him how! then him into a statue. yu has to come along an’ make more trou- “yu shore looks funny; eeny, meeny, ble. now look at them fools over there,” miny, mo," counted off the daring horse he said, pointing at a dark shadow some man; “move a bit an' off yu go,” he fin- fifty paces off. “they're pattin' their ished. then his face broke out in another backs because i don't see 'em, an' if i hurts grin as he thought of more enjoyment. them they'll git mad. guess i'll make “that there gent on th’ left,” he said, 'em dust along," he added, shooting into pointing out with a gun the man he meant. the spot. a howl went up and two men “yu sing us a song. sing a nice little ran away at top speed. song." the sheriff nodded his sympathy and as the object of his remarks remained spoke. spoke. “i reckons you had better give up. mute, he let his thumb ostentatiously slide you can't get away. every house, every back with the hammer of the gun under it. corner and shadow holds a man. “sing! quick!” the man sang. a brave man-but, as you say, unfortunate. as hopalong leaned forward to say some better help me up and come with me thing a stiletto flashed past his neck and they'll tear you to pieces." crashed into the bottle beside him. the “shore i'll help yu up— i ain't got no echo of the crash was merged into a report grudge against nobody. grudge against nobody. but my friends as hopalong fired from his waist. then know where i am, an' they'll come down he backed out into the street, his horse here an' raise a ruction if i don't show up. carefully avoiding the outstretched form of so, if it's all the same to yu, i'll be ambling manuel. wheeling, he galloped across the right along," he said as he helped the sheriff plaza and again faced the saloon. a flash to his feet. split the darkness and a bullet hummed “have you any objections to telling me over his head and thudded into an adobe your name?" asked the sheriff as he looked wall at his back. another shot and he himself over. replied, aiming at the flash. from down "none whatever," answered hopalong the street came the sound of a window heartily. "i'm hopalong cassidy of th’ opening, and he promptly caused it to bar , texas.” close again. several more windows opened "you don't surprise me i've heard of and hastily closed, and he rode slowly to you,” replied the sheriff, wearily. "you ward the far end of the plaza. as he are the man who killed tamale josé, whom faced the saloon once more he heard a com i hunted for unceasingly. i found him mand to throw up his hands and saw the when you had left and i got the reward. glint of a gun, held by a man who wore the come again some time and i'll divide with you are bar range yarns you; two hundred and fifty dollars,” he "well, i'll be damned!" ejaculated the added craftily. sheriff, starting back in amazement. “ishore will, but i don't want no "don't say that, sheriff, you've got lots money," replied hopalong as he turned of time to reform,” replied a humorous away. “adios, señor," he called back. voice. "how's th' wings?" “adios,” replied the sheriff as he kicked “almost well; you were considerate,” a near-by door for assistance. responded the sheriff. the cow-pony tied itself up in knots as "let's go in--somebody might see me it pounded down the street toward the out here an’ get into trouble,” suggested trail, and, although he was fired on, he the visitor, placing his foot on the sill. swung into the dusty trail with a song “certainly — pardon my discourtesy," on his lips. several hours later he stood said the sheriff. “you see, i wasn't expect- dripping wet on the american side of the ing you to-night,” he explained, thinking rio grande, and shouted advice to a score of the elaborate preparations that he would of mexican cavalrymen on the opposite have gone to if he had thought the irre- bank. then he slowly picked his way pressible would call. toward el paso for a game at faro dan's. "well, i was down this way, an' seeing as how i had promised to drop in, i just the sheriff sat in his easy chair one night natchurally dropped,” replied hopalong, some three weeks later, gravely engaged in as he took the chair proffered by his host. rolling a cigarette. his arms were prac after talking awhile on everything and tically well, the wounds being in the fleshy nothing, the sheriff coughed and looked parts. he was a philosopher and was dis- uneasily at his guest. posed to take things easy, which accounted “mr. cassidy, i am sorry you called, for for his being in his official position for fif i like men of your energy and courage, and teen years. a gentleman at the core, he i very much dislike to arrest you,” re- was well educated and had visited a goodly marked the sheriff. “of course you under- portion of the world. a book of horace stand that you are under arrest,” he added lay open on his knees and on the table at with anxiety. his side lay a shining new revolver, hopa "who, me?" asked hopalong with a ris- long having carried off his former weapon. ing inflection. he read aloud several lines and, in reaching "most assuredly,” breathed the sheriff. for a light for his cigarette, noticed the new “why, this is the first time i ever heard six-shooter. his mind leaped from horace anything about it,” replied the astonished to hopalong, and he smiled grimly at the cow-puncher. “i'm an american—don't latter's promise to call. that make any difference?" glancing up, his eyes fell on a poster "not in this case, i'm afraid. you see, which conveyed the information in spanish it's for manslaughter." and in english that there was offered “well, don't that beat th’ devil, now?” five hundred dollars ($ ) reward said hopalong. he felt sorry that a citizen for hopalong cassidy, of the glorious united states should be of the ranch known as the bar , prey for troublesome sheriffs, but he was texas, u. s. a. sure that his duty to texas called upon him never to submit to arrest at the hands of a and which gave a good description of that greaser. remembering the alamo, and gentleman. still behind his colt, he reached over and sighing for the five hundred, he again took up the shining weapon from the table took up his book and was lost in its pages and snapped it open on his knee. after when he heard a knock, rather low and placing the cartridges in his pocket he timid. wearily laying aside his reading, tossed the gun over on the bed and, reach- he strode to the door, expecting to hear a ing inside his shirt, drew out another and lengthy complaint from one of his towns threw it after the first. men. as he threw the door wide open, the “that's yore gun; i forgot to leave it,” light streamed out and lighted up a revolv- he said, apologetically. “anyhow yu needs er, and behind it the beaming face of a cow two,” he added. boy, who grinned. then he glanced around the room, no- the outing magazine ticed the poster and walked over and read ideas of greasers staggered under the blow. it. a full swift sweep of his gloved hand then he smiled sympathetically as he real- tore it from its fastenings and crammed it ized that he faced a white man. under his belt. the glimmer of anger in “never like to promise nothin',” he re- his eyes gave way as he realized that his plied. “i might get plugged, or something head was worth a definite price, and he might happen that wouldn't let me." then smiled at what the boys would say when he his face lighted up as a thought came to showed it to them. planting his feet far him; “say, i'll cut th' cards with yu to see apart and placing his arms akimbo, he if i comes back or not." faced his host in grim defiance. the sheriff leaned back and gazed at the “got any more of these?” he inquired, cool youngster before him. a smile of placing his hand on the poster under his satisfaction, partly at the self-reliance of belt. his guest and partly at the novelty of his "several," replied the sheriff. situation, spread over his face. he reached “trot 'em out,” ordered hopalong for a pack of mexican cards and laughed. shortly. “god! you're a cool one i'll do it. the sheriff sighed, stretched and went what do you call?" over to a shelf from which he took a bundle "red," answered hopalong. of the articles in question. turning slowly the sheriff slowly raised his hand and he looked at the puncher and handed them revealed the ace of hearts. to him. hopalong leaned back and laughed, at “i reckons they's all over this here the same time taking from his pocket the town," remarked hopalong. six extracted cartridges. arising and going “they are, and you may never see texas over to the bed, he slipped them in the again." chambers of the new gun and then placed "so? well, yu tell yore most particular the loaded weapon at the sheriff's elbow. friends that the job is worth five thousand, "well, i reckon l'll amble, sheriff," he and that it will take so many to do it that said as he opened the door. “if yu ever when th' mazuma is divided up it won't sifts up my way, drop in an' see me-th' buy a meal. there's only one man in this boys 'll give yu a good time.” country to-night that can earn that money, "thanks; i will be glad to," replied the an' that's me,” said the puncher. “an' i sheriff. “you'll take your pitcher to the don't need it,” he added, smiling. well once too often, some day, my friend. “but you are my prisoner—you are un this courtesy," glancing at the restored der arrest,” enlightened the sheriff, rolling revolver, "might have cost you dearly." another cigarette. the sheriff spoke as if "shoo! i did that once an' th' feller asking a question. never before had five tried to use it," replied the cowboy, as he hundred dollars been so close at hand and backed through the door. "some people yet so unobtainable. it was like having are awfully careless,” he added. “so a check-book but no bank account. long “i'm shore sorry to treat yu mean,” "so long," replied the sheriff, wondering remarked hopalong, “but i was paid a what sort of a man he had been entertain- month in advance an’ i'll have to go back ing. an' earn it.” the door closed softly, and soon after a “you can- if you say that you will re joyous whoop floated in from the street. turn," replied the sheriff, tentatively. the the sheriff toyed with the new gun and sheriff meant what he said, and for the mo listened to the low caress of a distant ment had forgotten that he was powerless guitar. and was not the one to make terms. "well, don't that beat hell?” he ejacu- hopalong was amazed and for a time his lated. in the shadow valley a morning’s fishing by edwina stanton babcock |t was early. the as i made no effort to reply, the key- sportswoman, hole's sibilances ceased, which i half re- standing outside gretted, wondering that the sportswoman my door, beat on should so soon abandon her laudable pur- it with a vigorous pose. before i could lose myself again, pounding of both however, it was my ill fortune to see, crawl- little hands, ex ing stealthily through the crack between the postulating at the door base and the sill, a half sheet of note same time through paper. again the keyhole took up its rune the key hole in and i was given to understand that the whispers accompanied by some irritating sportswoman was pushing in a communi- and uncalled-for wind effects. “get up, cation of tense and thrilling interest; a com- wheezed the keyhole urgently, "it's going munication, urged the asthmatic keyhole, to be a perfectly grand day. do get up which i would do well to rise and consider. and look out. the view from your win under these adroit stimuli as applied by dow is all mountains; just think, seven the knowing sportswoman, my eyes wi- mountains to do what you like with! dened to the possibilities of things. to that's the trout stream you hear rushing see a paper waggling its way into one's down the valley-oh, do get up! do be room in a sneaking and furtive progress enthusiastic! what's the use of sleeping is to grow suddenly wild with curiosity. any more?” mystery had always been the sportswom- i turned on my pillow, eying the key- an's strongest play and i had never yet hole with drowsy severity, deciding that i failed to respond-yet hold! was i being would keep perfectly still and ignore this trifled with? foolishness, particularly the concluding for answer the sheet of note paper went question. such words, addressed to a per- through a series of passionate appeals, son just returned, as was i, from a land which taking into consideration its size, where the hardest labor consisted of pick- the circumscribed area of its operations ing up, gold dollars in the public streets, and its simple motive power, were astonish- could only seem obtuse. what did i care ing. it advanced and retreated energeti- for getting up and looking at views? i cally. it beckoned with shy entreaty, and had for some hours been the frequenter of then as if mortally offended, completely luxurious palaces and gardens where i was disappeared. i leaned over watching for made the object of special condescensions it, whereupon it returned, but sadly and from illustrious nobility and nabobbery. without confidence, immediately beginning i had been clad in the most magnificent preparations for a slow, regretful, but final costumes, drawn by arabian steeds through departure. i was roused. to see that huzzaing multitudes to fêtes and festivals. paper vanishing before my very eyes was in short, i had been in that place of satis too much. rushing over to the door i fell fied ego, the land of dreams. why, com upon it, seized it and began reading its ing direct from a life so stimulating and message, a reading which was substantiated elevating, should i care to rise and look at and eked out by various giggling manifes- a mere view? tations on the part of the keyhole. the outing magazine paper: there is a doctor in room and as i leaned out, trying to get my vision a clergyman in ; they've come up for the to adapt itself to the magnitude of things, fishing. it was that unkempt crew i tried hardest keyhole: “how can you be so indiffer to see. but i was familiar enough with ent about the mountains? no, don't open the ways of shadow life to realize that it the door. i must scuttle back.” was yet too early. i knew that they were paper: they are both crack woods- coming to life under the overhanging bowl- men. ders; floating their unsubstanced shapes keyhole: “i could hear them telling on the treeless peaks; stretching cold yarns last night; one of them has shot a and slab-sided on the trails, or fluttering tiger, the other knows all about ranches.” sketchily in the willows along the stream; paper: they say that there's one big but they were all lying low, hanging back, trout up in diana's pool that won't be and i forsook them to make my man- caught, that every one tried for him last ners to the mountains. i approached the year. seven, thus: “how do you do?”—this keyhole: "you and i will go up right with emphasized politeness and the exag- after breakfast and get him.” gerated manner of one not sure of his posi- paper: did you remember to bring any tion. no answer. seemed to think it soap? i can't bear the pink kind they al- impertinence. took it as if they were a ways have here. • here both paper faculty and i a book agent. and keyhole suddenly ceased. the noise those who have had the chilling experi- of a distant banging door must have ence of being brought face to face with a startled the sportswoman. limitless extension of family tradition will plunging into the solemn occupation of know what i felt trying to overcome the dressing, i bethought me of the mountains exclusiveness of these mountains. moun- waiting to be noticed, but concluded not tains can't just say "howdy” and have to raise the shade until they were ready to done with it. their “who are you?” is see me, thinking that perhaps a mountain inevitable. they have talked down and would not like being taken by surprise. i been looked up to too long. like the un- finished tying all bows and introducing all lettered rich and the inexperienced good buttons to congenial buttonholes, reflects people of the world, they think themselves ing that, no matter how many oceans one the only important parts of the universe; has patted on the back, one should avoid everything else floats around them as nebu- familiarity with mountains. “never take lous and unconvincing as the white of an a mountain for granted," i said to my egg. it would be fun to make a mountain self, going toward the window; "they get up on its hind legs and beg for biscuit, don't like it.” i raised the shade. opened the window. i leaned out. things began to grow a little oppressive. exactly! there they stood, seven of them, i could see i was not going to make an im- looming up from the valley like lusty tow pression and i was casting about for some ers, pushing their snow-streaked aridness remark with which to gracefully take my into the pale morning sky. seven of them. leave when my eye caught the flash of a glum. important. a white-haired aris- swift signal down in the valley. i saw the tocracy keeping up appearances in spite of dip of a white guidon and realized that i rusty clothes and an inevitable down-at was being noticed at last, that the moun- heelness. the sun came scaling over the tain stream was wig-wagging me. racing top of one, lying flat on its brow like a in and out among the rocks was this gypsy great seal, dripping gold wax and scarlet whose full vitality and untamed passion fire. down at their bases a brawling made the forest ring. i could see her, far stream swept through masses of rock, off, dancing through the clove with the through fir and pine, through grove and fling of a foamy scarf and the soft click cairn and clove; and all about their lofty of sparkling castanets. “coming?" she shapes, slanting through the trees, hud called eagerly to me, but she did not wait dling behind the rocks, watched a dim to hear my answer. i leaned farther out crowd of tatterdemalions, an unkempt and saw how her way led among fallen crew of shadows. logs, around knolls and silver sands, and once. in the shadow valley knew she was the one who could show me "yes, worms,” mocked the little sports- shadows; shadow paintings, elusive and woman with great spirit; "please don't subtle; shadow mosaics, unstable, shim roar it out like that, either, or we'll have mering and dissolving; colored shadows those men waking up and hurrying down.” such as a mountain stream hoards in her she spoke the last words thickly as she secret caskets for girdle and tiara. “com- emerged half suffocated from the neck of ing, girl!” i called back softly to the her gray sweater; she regarded me calmly gypsy. i made a parting face at the seven but suspiciously through stray locks of her glum ones. “who cares for you?” i said tumbled hair and repeated—"worms, why boldly, and ran off down to breakfast. not?” at the table i found the sportswoman without waiting for my response she in a hilarious mood, full of satisfaction at picked up her fishing-rod, threw the creel having gotten the start of the doctor and over her shoulder and caught up by its the clergyman. these harmless individ strap one of the two little tin bait boxes; uals, who had arrived the night before and i followed suit meekly enough, feeling whose highly respectable hats hung on the snubbed but not altogether effaced, and inn tree vouching for their owners' integ as we went out on the sunlit piazza, ex- rity, the sportswoman chose to regard as claiming with pleasure at the tingle and interlopers and persons of greed and low stimulus of the mountain air, endeavored cunning. they were to be, she intimated, to explain myself. i said i had always outwitted, disciplined and generally sup- supposed that the really scientific fishing pressed. “i discovered this place and this was done with little smashed-wasp things lovely innkeeper and his wife," she pro that come in books, things with names tested, “and we came early in the season like “the fantail flick,” “the blue fay to avoid those old things. why don't tricky,” “the buff sauce-box”—strug- they keep away, why can't they fish off gling to recall the actual titles of the flies i wharves or in boats in their natural haunts had seen in a book treasured by the sports- and not go meddling around the country?” woman. we clattered down the wooden this was said with a fierceness quite ador steps, walking toward the kitchen garden able, and it struck me that the doctor and at the back of the inn, and as i concluded the clergyman, could they overhear it and my explanations reached a place where the see the sportswoman's sweet face, con broken soil lying dark and heavy on a long- trasting deliciously with her fierce words, cultivated slope presented a promising sur- might not be altogether displeased. face for our labors. but after all, there's a good deal of “well,"condescended the sportswoman, room up here in these mountains," i ob- dragging a rusty spade to the scene of oper- served, thoughtfully, sugaring my cereal; ations, “of course i do expect to cast flies "we can't use the whole place at once, you for some of my fish-but-er-well— i'm know." sort of waiting, you see. that doctor and the sportswoman was inclined to think that clergyman, you know. i want to hide we could. “anyway,” she pouted, “they, somewhere first and watch how they do it the doctor and the clergyman, would scare -if they're not any better at it than i all the fish and rub all the bloom off the am i'll just come boldly out in the open- scenery and eat their luncheon all over but until then"—the sportswoman paused everything.” but there was no time to significantly; continuing, “but don't ever argue about the characters of the defense- be ashamed of worms. the innkeeper less unknown, for seeing me eat my last says the trout are very gamy this month bit of biscuit, the sportswoman tyrannized and are biting at anything; besides, me into a rapid swallowing of my coffee, worms are the simple, beautiful bait na- folded my napkin and dragged me away ture provides; izaak walton wasn't above from the table. “come on,” she said them, and adam and eve did all their fish- eagerly; "now we'll go and dig worms." ing with them. here-i'll dig, you pick “worms!” | exclaimed. i followed her out of the big, bare dining-room and we as we worked a silence fell upon us. the paused in the hall before the snapping logs sportswoman dug, i picked up. bending of the fireplace--"worms?" over my labors and controlling expressions up.” the outing magazine of distaste, i did some reflecting. my re- flections were something like this: i am exceedingly fond of the sports- woman. she is a very talented and de- lightful comrade. she is as dainty and fresh as a flower, as ardent and spirited as a bird. i love her round chin with the cleft in it. her plaintive expression of wistfulness always touches me deeply. her light laugh, a delicate ascending chromatic, carries me with it right up to the moon. she has the keenest sense of honor, also of humor, and the refinement which expresses itself in a hundred unconscious little re- straints. she is the one person in this world for whom i would pick up a worm. further reflection: it may be that if one "follows the motion” of the worm one will feel less discomfort. note:- i find this to be an impossible feat. further reflection: it occurs to me that the curious and interesting physical econ- omy of a worm necessitates his reeling in one's fingers in such a manner as to suggest that he is endeavoring to turn himself in- side out, but his capacity for auto-sugges- tion is horrible and unwarranted. i tried taking them by what may have been their heads or by what may have been their tails. in loops. in hoops. in ascending spirals. i tried to hold them as i'd like to be held if i were a worm, but always with the same sickening result, the worm yearn- ing away from my unwilling fingers vigor- ously, in a series of desperate clammy involutions that somehow connected them- selves with all that was unstable in my character. at last—"it is too soon after breakfast," i gasped feebly. “pooh!" returned the sportswoman, scornfully; glancing up, however, with an anxious look. “nonsense! are you afraid of nice, quiet little country worms? oh, there's a lovely one, get him!” she turned over a fresh clod—“oh, see that beauty, he's a perfect treasure!" "if i could only get them off my mind, you know," i said unhappily; "if i could only understand which end it is they prefer being picked up by, and why it is that when the spade cuts one in two, both pieces start off in different directions as if each piece wanted to get away from its identity. i see how they got their reputation for turn- ing, but how do they ever decide which point of them is the turning-point? oh, dear!—oh, dear!" the sportswoman was genuinely con- cerned. “here, you dig, l’u pick up," she offered nobly. “they do get on one's nerves, don't they? we might shut our eyes and quote poetry to keep our minds off them. ugh!” she shuddered vio- lently as a long specimen twined around her fingers. "quick, let me get him in the box; here's another. ah!-e-e-e-e-e-e-h! mercy !!! the sportswoman ingloriously dropped the worm she had a minute ago called “a perfect treasure" and turned very pale. “what did he do?” i inquired, in a kind of agony, watching the “perfect treasure" sprawl back into his chosen element. "do?" she wailed hysterically, “don't ask me! i won't touch another one. we've enough, anyway; put some earth in your box so they won't get so mixed up with each other, poor things. i suppose,” she went on thoughtfully, as we gathered up our be- longings, “the reason they make us feel so is that we move upright and have an axis; a worm hasn't any axis, and when he tries to get away two ways at once in utter de- fiance of our laws of gravitation and loco- motion it destroys our balance and equi- librium.” i agreed to this in all gravity; and followed the sportswoman with the feelings of reverence and respect that are due to logic, no matter how imperfect it may be. rods limbering over shoulders, baskets swaying on hips, bait boxes strapped around waists, we walked rapidly out on the mountain road and began the ascent up the valley. alongside on our left the brawling stream tore through its rock gates, whirled in pools and foamed over half- formed breakwaters of dead leaves and broken limbs. the winding uphill road was wild and lonely. we met no living thing and saw no friendly roof suggesting habitation. once in a while the gray slouch of a deserted shack pushed out from the trees on the mountain side, and far ahead of us we could hear the great coarse violin of a sawmill sending its rasped tremolo down the valley; all the rest was evergreen dimness full of the noise of water; a thousand voices confused, haunting, sug- gestive. it was cold, but cold of a light, cham- in the shadow valley pagne-like dryness; a sparkle, streaked the forest was only broken here and there with warmth, mellowed where the dips in by filtering sunlight, it was quieter and we the road held tepid air. we went through could hear the cascades falling into the hollows where great trees darkened the soil mottled green-gold depths of diana's pool. beneath them with spread carpets of pine all of a sudden the sportswoman, with a needles, but when we came out again along new light in her eyes, broke from my side, the gray-fenced hill pastures we could feel glancing back to whisper, “you fish this the spring flutter in the atmosphere. it side and keep on toward the pool; i'll take was cold, but we saw little naked buds the other.” she scrambled down the bank illuminating with their silver softness the to the stream's bed, threading her way young willows by the water; cold, but the among fallen trees and rocks, tramping sunshine, attached to the earth by a myriad sturdily over the loose cobbles to where a gleaming, glancing threads, drew the frost huge trunk bridged the racing water. from the hard soil, leaving it in strange watched her light, unerring little figure . wrinkles and wry contortions. cross this rough suspension and push into for a while the sportswoman kept up an the wall of hemlock overhanging the other edifying discourse upon the habits, phil bank. a moment later i beheld her hat- osophy and manners of brook trout, and i less, braced for action, perched on a huge learned among other things: bowlder mid-stream unreeling her line. the . a trout, if he's going to bite, generally sportswoman had commenced the business goes for the bait right away. if he doesn't of the day, she had forgotten me, forgotten jump at the first chance it's very foolish to everything reasonable and comfortable for hang around in that one place looking pa what she seemed to see in the dim lurking tient and hoping he'll change his mind; he places beneath the riffles. in a second she can see you better than you see him and sprang to another rock; anxiously examin- you cut a ridiculous figure in his eyes. ing her bait, she then turned her intense . don't pay any attention to the fish gaze up stream, and as she vanished around that are speckled plain red and yellow; they a bend it was borne in upon me that she was are only california trout put in the brook going for “him,” the big trout, and that for people who are easily imposed upon. until she had satisfied herself concerning genuine brook trout are speckled pink, "him" i had lost the sportswoman. blue, brown, gold and green; they are the as the last bit of her dark corduroy skirt only things in nature that are as bright as disappeared i sighed with relief. my time they are sometimes painted. had come for relaxation; the hour of my . a trout measuring under six inches exemption from polite interest had arrived. must not be kept, but put back in the perhaps it had been an oversight of mine brook; he'll understand why; only it's a not to mention to the sportswoman, per- pity that law was ever made, for they are haps it had been merely prudence, but i apt to remember and won't bite when they had never confessed to her that i did not grow up. care for trout fishing. she had remained . all fish like to be caught. they al all along ignorant of my true feeling in the ways hold their mouths in the shape to matter and the real object with which i had take a hook, and no fish wants to die of old come up into shadow valley. i think i age, so it's perfect nonsense to be sentimen acted justly, for why create discord or wet- tal about catching them. blanket enthusiasm, and why, when the we tramped on in silence, plunging friend of one's heart is intent upon catching deeper into the loneliness of things, watch real fish, state stupidly that one is only go- ing the water below us widen and spread in ing out to try one's luck with a paltry turbulence and chatter over the extended shadow or two? yet, now that i could ravine where small islands of gravel and indulge in a favorite pastime without of- cobble pushed up their ragged surfaces. fending any one, who so happy; left alone the noise beat in our ears like certain of the by the mountain stream, throwing lines wagnerian strains with an overwhelming and setting nets for the shadows floating in quality of persistence, but at last the road the big pool of the valley? stretched away a little and turned into the of course every one will agree that only steep mountain pass, and farther up, where a very foolish and vacant person would go the outing magazine fishing for shadows, and until one has fished relieved to have it safely out of my hands- for them a good deal, and had luck-brought relieved, because, if the intimations of the them home and mounted them with their sportswoman concerning this rod were true, wings, or their fins, or whatever it is that i knew it for a very superior instrument- they fly with, prettily spread-one had blessed by the pope, well spoken of by the little idea what a fantastic, instructive, most grudging and pernickety of "high- improving sort of sport they are. i should hooks,” and possessing accomplishments never think of recommending this sort of only equaled by the rod of moses. i felt fishing, however, to practical people, those that it reproved me for not fishing with it, who are engaged in writing their aspira and i half expected it, so conscientious a tions, affections and comprehensions under career had it enjoyed, to turn into a worm the dollar sign. but to artists and mu and go off fishing on its own hook. but i sicians and other benighted beings, whose could not see my way to using it. if i idea of life seems to be that it is a very fished it was to be for shadows only, and in trifling reality clothed and invested with fishing for shadows it is written one must a hundred very beautiful and significant use the old thorn stick of experience, and unrealities, the casual shadow comes grate no double-jointed, triple-articulated con- fully. one may be forgiven for using it traption, flying into slender fits at its un- as a background for his conception of all wholesome tip. things temporal, or eternal; a keynote to i rested, half sitting, half lying on the the colors of his cosmos, for no matter how bank, doing nothing. i felt my heart soft- grotesque and misshapen a quality is the en toward the lotus eaters, that bank of shadow, it is never coarse, false or crude. unconscionable loafers who took such com- it somehow fixes objects and occasions, fort in watching the “emerald water falling makes them vivid, imprints them lastingly, through many a woven acanthus wreath although itself be variable and perishing. divine,” and wondering what the rest of one may make his collection of shadows the world was doing. it seemed to me, as varied and detailed as a collection of too, that gazing down into the pellucid shells or of flowers; if he watches carefully pools below me i saw circling in shadowy, enough he finds special kinds, species that mystical motion, forms and faces of people occur only once, varieties of shade that un i knew. i could read their futures and less caught and made sure of on the instant trace their pasts. like a seer gazing into forever pass away; and this being so, the his crystal ball, i saw omens and portents, shadow fisherman grows to understand the fall of kingdoms and the fame of men, nearly all qualities of change and elusive and began in some slight degree to appre- ness; he makes sure of his shadows the mo ciate what a delightfully humorous time ment he sees them; grasping at their sub the delphic oracle must have had of it, tleties eagerly and delicately as a child getting all the news directly from the cen- grasping at a soap-bubble or a smoke-ring, ter of the whirl of the universe, and not and storing them safely away in secret being pinned down to the daily papers. shadows of his heart and mind. meanwhile, i knew, the sportswoman must wherever we see the shadow we brood have reached diana's pool, nearly a mile over it. in the mystery of the eyes of away, and was arguing with "him,"trying, children, in the hollow of waves where it illogically, to get him to bite before dinner. dies beneath the crush of foam, under the i could imagine him, a little blasé, wanting listless sail, below the dreamy keel. at to humor her, but inclined to evade the last we grow to look for it everywhere; it proposition and take his ease in his speckled has inevitably become call, witchery, in house coat and peruse the morning paper. spiration to us. whether it reveals itself i knew she must be communing with him majestically, flying like valkyrie over the a good deal after the manner of the vizier's cloud-ridden mountains, or pathetically cookmaid-“fish, fish, art thou in thy leaving its sad skeleton behind some leafless duty?" and that he was responding like the bush, its plaintive, pure presence touches yellow and blue fish of the arabian nights into poetry the homeliest scenes, deepens with that singularly evasive and uncom- into tenderness the harshest aspect. promising "if you reckon, we reckon. i put down my fishing-rod with a sigh, for all her fortitude and unquenchable in the shadow valley love of fishing, i knew the sportswoman hoo-hoo! boo-hoo! hoo-hoo! the silvery would weary trying to persuade "him" call rang out above the noise of the water, that the psychological moment had ar sounding as if some jolly little rascal of rived. i hoped he'd soon be won over, yet an owl had cast away family precedent, it was hard to think of him, because of and started out to paint the town red by one act of generous belief and one jump to broad daylight. i started up and ran out ward higher things, flapping and thrashing on the road. it had grown late morning around in the creel, his wild blood fevered and the flushed face of the sportswoman with pain and his lovely colors fading into coming over the brow of the hill was in the death. very eye of the sun. she was dripping wet as i lay with all this passing through and muddy, and as she advanced i won- my mind, i could smell the faint fragrance dered where she had left her hat and if she creeping into the turf and see the patches possessed other blue corduroy skirts. but of new green stretching up through last her triumphant approach was sufficient as year's dead grass. i heard the voices of to whether she considered it all worth anemones waking up underground, making while. while. “i've got him!” she announced over last year's dresses and hats for the joyously, and came up panting. i looked spring opening. i heard old granny weeds in the basket and marveled. there he unlocking doors and windows, and old was, bigger than i had dreamed, sorrily grandpa roots wagging their long beards gasping and trying to explain that it was and swapping oldest inhabitant informa some one else's fault. tion. i heard things also in the water "it's just full of trout,” continued the flowing beneath me. intelligences were sportswoman breathlessly, answering my being carried from the mountains to the excited inquiries. “i only came back for ocean of some universal joy that was to more bait. we ought to be getting back come, some soft, seductive yielding, the to the inn and have him cooked for dinner. glowing feasts and rites of triumph, the think of that doctor and that clergyman, glad pomps and ceremonies of happy i don't believe they've caught a thing. birth. hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!” she danced one might learn, by these intelligences around the road like a small, water-soaked that the maples would soon be pushing out nymph gone mad, and i, in a provisional on their boughs the red spongy lees of their and formal but sympathetic appreciation, rising wines. that the willows would ere danced too. suddenly the sportswoman long draw their slender fingers through the came to a standstill, eying me. silver strings of the harp of rain. that “what is the matter with your bait box? robin would tie bowknots on his pipe and what have you been doing?” she asked blow bubbles of song down on the green solemnly. blanket of spring, and that with the ex i looked down; the little green tin was panding and leafing of bud and twig and hanging from my waist wide open, inverted blossom the shadows would grow stronger and quite empty. there was no sign re- and come in greater hosts. shadows maining of the perfect treasure, the beau- would dwell in the meadows and along the ty, nor those others whom we had been at lanes. shadows would lurk in the tree such pains to procure. while i had been tops and rove half wildly, half solemnly dreaming, they, with an astuteness quite in vagrom procession over the rocks awful to think upon, knowing they weren't and mosses and water. the intelligence wanted, had crawled away. tdid not know seemed to say that then, in that great how to meet the sportswoman's eyes, i am gathering of strange forms, i might find a afraid i cringed—but all she said was, “if shadow for my very own, some purple you would only take things seriously!” patch that i might hold as a guerdon and somehow i felt that it would be useless wear as a talisman, a dream caught with to explain to her that for shadow fishing the thorn stick of experience in the dusky one needs no bait except an illusion or a pool of the valley. few fancies. by hook or crook the trout that tomah promised by maximilian foster w no e fished—tomah mooin and tomah grunted again: "nuh-not wind. giving ourselves to the employ- sartin not go right place, fish no catch ment, peter-wise, with all the um.” faith in the world. but to what avail? in so we turned our backs to failure, and the pleasing reflection that it is not all fish over my shoulder the useless rod dropped ing to catch fish, we had our answer to a aft, trailed its long cast in our wake like the barren day; and i said so softly to tomah, dejected pennants of a rout. not all fish- admiring the prettiness of the thought. ing to catch fish! i felt sure of that now; not all fishing to catch fish — perhaps! and on top of the thought came tomah's but tomah's soul was the soul of the bar voice proclaiming its sorry answer to one's barian, demanding results concrete and hunger. said tomah, asserting the fact: effective, and he evaded the philosophy “sartin fish no catch um, salt pork pretty with a grunt: tough!" “sartin fish no catch um, for what you which was, of course, only too true. fish?" there was no disputing that we had no i changed the topic. there was fish, however hard and faithfully we had flight of moral fancy that could tempt worked. i should hate to say how many tomah from his gloom; and over my times tomah had driven the canoe about shoulder i saw his fat face, as round as a the rim of that one round of water, or for moon, peering intently upon the water, how many hours we lay at the spring hole, and awaiting an answer from its depths. moored to the setting pole. enough that hour after hour he had sat there, his arm we left no square rod of the waters, deep outstretched like the figure of a greek or shoal, unsought. in that time, too, we bearing gifts, and with a patience worthy had tried all ways, leaving nothing undone of better use, jigging nefariously at a hand that we should have done and doing noth- line. for with tomah, the end ever jus- ing that we ought not to have done. we tified the means; and he plugged, not for tried it far and fine—that is, i did, while the sport of it, but because of the crying tomah looked on gloomily—and my cast famine bred sharply in this keen new ranged in all the sizes from a midge on the brunswick air. around us lay the pond, finest hook to that handful of feathers, its broad acreage hemmed in by forest the salmon fly of the deep and largest walls, and fairly looking trout-trout in waters. but even far and fine brought no every crook of its bending shore line. place better luck than coarse and close-we were after place we fished, and met failure for stumped, and that seemed plain enough. our pains. even the spring hole lying in in other years, tomah and i had taken its upper edge gave no answer to our our fill from this small pool; and it came quest; i tried it with every cast of flies to my mind, now, how we had won our i owned, and whipped its surface till i luck in weather good or bad, in sunshine wearied. so, hunting for a cause, i laid or rain or in any cast of wind. if the our misfortune to the wind; and remem breeze came out of the east, it made no bering the words of that honest angler, odds at all—we had our plenty; and there now with god, remarked that it blew from were even days when the black water, lying the east. like oil under a windless sky, glared back by hook or crook at the sun like a mirror, and still gave up we ended our journey with the day. its treasures. under the edge of the forest part of it lay by land, and the other part by was always some patch of shadow where dead water, stream and pond. once, in a the big ones, like aldermen of this munici little chain of lakes, i saw the trout rising pality, lay in wait by the spring brooks for by the shore, but tomah would not wait. their toll; and we took them with a cast “better place got um pretty soon. jus' long and far, pitching the flies almost to mebbe one or two fish. that's all.” but the mossy beaches underneath the tree when we had quit that chain of lakes and limbs. tomah, looking about him disdain come again to the bush, i wished strongly fully, hunched up his shoulders in disgust. enough that we had tarried awhile 'afloat pond no good any more," he grum -fish or no fish-if only to have escaped bled. “lumber feller camp over there the last stages of the journey, and the .las' winter. shoot um fish with powder.” difficulties that beset us. for tomah, if that were true—and there seemed no losing his way, swerved aside into the reason to doubt it—what was the thing to depths of a cedar swamp; and in that do? tomah drew the canoe to the shore trap, ridden down at every step by his and turned it turtle-wise before answering: clumsy, obstreperous load, performed mir- “dunno-place no good. mebbe go some acles of maneuver that were fearful and wheres to-morrow. wonderful and altogether hazardous. there knowing tomah, i took it that he al was a time when the canoe, seized with a ready had a mind of the matter. when malign animation, took charge of the shop we had made the best of pork and tea, and fought us through the thickets, until, that night, tomah withdrew to his gutter in that tangle, a battle-ship would have ing pipe, and behind its clouds of smoke been no greater load on our hands than like a jove retired to heavy meditation. this birchen obstinacy that rushed into the pond's day of glory was gone; plainly every path but the right one. “hunh!" we must move. “nuh!” grunted tomah, said tomah, grinning; "canoe get tired. coming out of his trance, “place no good mus' go home, mebbe!" but taking a -another place try um over there.” fresh grip of the spreader, he plunged i knew of tomah's "places over there". on at a reckless speed; and breaking goals that tried one's soul to reach. but through a last wall of foliage, before us if tomah could stand it, i thought i could there lay the water we had come so far to stand it too, considering the fact that he find. must tote the canoe across the carries, it was a long and narrow stretch of the and put in some licks of labor at the pad vividest greens — a pond whose depths dle. so at dawn we started, striking away gleamed with the liquid clearness of a gem. into the bush. it lay in a cleft among the hills; and the it was, as i had suspected, a long haul trees, in their infinity, marched down close and a trying one. there were no brushed to its edges, save at one end where a little out portages to travel by, nor any blazed meadow, tracked by the moose and cari- line toshow the easy way; for the places that bou, broke the dark monotone of forest tomah sought for sport were away from with a splash of brighter colors. gray, beaten trails. in and out among the trees weathered windfalls, tumbled from their he threaded his way along, the canoe bases, lay around all the shore, their tops bumping and scraping against the boles, submerged, and the sharp stubs of their and tomah puffing and grunting in reply. branches thrust upward as if to ward off there were his legs twinkling beneath the intruders from the land. plomp! there gunwales, going like a monster of dreams; it was right under our noses, almost--the and once, as a louder crash and its ech- lunge of a rising fish! tomah looked oing grunt proclaimed trouble, i hurried around with a grin. on and found him sprawled beneath the “fish catch um now, mebbe!” he load, uttering heathen curses. “huh! no boasted. plomp! another rise close at hurt um tomah!” he growled, rising hand. i agreed with him. for around all awkwardly. "damn bad place catch um the water in our view the fish were rising canoe in swamp. trees no place for canoe fast. some came to the surface with a at all.” rush, darting through the clear water like the outing magazine a bird; others rose with a quiet ease, barely lipping the surface; and there were some, too, on whom i had my eye, that lunged to the top, and wallowing with a surge that half bared their fat and com- fortable backs, withdrew, leaving the water boiling in their wake. plomp! “hunh!” grunted tomah, sliding the canoe afloat; "sartin big one, that feller!” already the sun had dipped beneath the hills, and over the forest world and its silence lay that vivid yellow light that comes to end its summer's perfect day. there was no breeze-not even the ghost of an air to blur the mirroring surfaces; and every plunging fish, rising to the luck- less mite of insect life that lured it sent the ripples widening afar. i could not wait. stepping aboard with landing net and rod still unrigged, i balanced amid- ships, while tomah, with a giant push, sent the canoe riding afloat and far out into the open. there i drifted alone, with hasty fingers slipping the ferruled joints together and one eye on the rising fish. and after the barren waters we had quit this became a revelation. all about me were the trout coming to their food and play; and making haste, i rigged on the first cast of flies that i could lay my fingers to—a rig that the fish of a civilized stream would have regarded coldly as an affront to ordinary intelligence. there were, as i remember, first a parmachenee belle, in size of the bigness of a pickerel bob—a fly whose contrast of carmine and white showed in the liquid clearness of that water like the painted cheeks of a jilt; above that was the brown fuzziness of a hackle; and last of all was a montreal, its raw color blazing like a coal. all choices, you might say; but the fish seemed careless of taste. at the first cast, when the dry and kinking leader writhed in its coils on the water, some commotion boiled beneath it, and i struck with a loose line and felt the weight of a pricked fish for my pains. but what odds to lose one fish among such multitudes? a few casts in the air straightened the leader in a fashion; and when the next spring of the rod sent the flies dancing on their way, there was a quick flurry beneath the surface, a flash and a sudden scattering of the drops, and i had him, driving home the barb with a gentle twist of the hand. then there was work for the light rod to undertake-the task of leading him daintily away from the snarl of half-drowned windfalls that reached out from the rocky shore. “oh, tomah!” i yelled in exultation; and the thudding of tomah's axe ended abruptly as he quit his camp work for the shore. “hoh! fish catch um now!” he called; and when the trout, a good, full pound in weight, came slapping to the net, tomah, grinning, went back to his work with quiet contentment on his face. and so it ran! as fast as the flies were offered they tumbled on them, making no choice of the three, but snapping the handi- est as it passed. there was one of close to a couple of pounds that plunged des- perately toward the snags as the pang of the hook stirred him, and but for another of half that weight that laid hold of the dropper in passing, i believe i would have lost him. but this diversion, acting as a drag, turned my bigger fish; and the two came off shore, answering to the pressure of the butt, while with a free hand i made shift to paddle the canoe away from that dangerous quarter. once in clear water, i led the pair about till they tired of the fray, and admiring my own skill in advance, tried to take them at one sweep of the net. somehow it didn't work. in the haste of it i made a pretty botch of the matter, for the smaller fish, writhing against the canoe, broke free and was gone. but the other-and the bigger!—i got with a quick lunge of the net, more by good luck than any art of mine; and in the joy of saving him forgot the first pangs of failure. for who should care? here were fish and in plenty, and little trouble to take them. i thought of this sport in contrast to other days—times spent along the worn- out streams of new england, where one went craftily like a thief in the night, keeping always hidden, and with a short line dropping the flies into the holes be- neath the bushes. one had a reward for this work in a few brace of fish-a half dozen at the best, perhaps, and scaling close to the legal limit of size—and those were red-letter days, indeed, when the creel bore a pair of half-pounders, or, may be, some buster that scaled close to full three-quarters. as i looked up now, from clearing this two-pounder i had saved, my eye caught by hook or crook a little fleck of white drifting slowly down again; but to little purpose. to be sure the air, and dropping nearer and nearer to i took fish-trout after trout at nearly the pond-some small atom of ephemeral every cast; but the big one had departed life going to its doom. as it alighted, for the day, affronted, no doubt, and wise teetering an instant on extended wings to the fraud that had tempted him. night and perhaps a dozen feet away, the water fell and still found me at it; and when boiled and there turned over beneath it, the glimmer of tomah's fire came shining like a porpoise, a fish that showed in its through the trees, i quit and paddled for lunge a back of the breadth of your wrist. the shore, leaving the fish still rising in for one moment he rolled there like a the dark. salmon, sucking in the morsel, and, turn "huh!" said tomah, viewing my catch; ing, drifted back to the depths, leaving “got um fish to eat now. sartin, next the pond's quiet surface eddying in his re day, big one catch um!” treat. a quick cast covered the rise; the big one! yes, perhaps; but although flies, springing across, dropped squarely in the figure of that fish i had let go by was that circle of heaving water; but the fish still strong in my mind, i held out the that rose to the dropper was a miserable two-pounder to tomah, and asked what half-pounder, slashing and slapping on the he thought of that. tomah, as usual, surface as the hook struck home. in vain grunted evasively: "sartin good fish that. i gave him slack, hoping he would tear bimeby big one catch um." himself free; but he had hooked himself and tomah doubtless knew. that securely; and there was nothing else to do night, when he had turned in satisfaction but lead him aboard and take out the barb from the feast, he told me of a trip he from his jaw. again i cast, and no an had made here one winter, and of the fish swer—again and for the third time. but he had taken through the ice. there, as on the next cast, as the flies came skittering usual, was the tale of the biggest that es- home, i saw a shadowy blur detach itself caped; but when he held out his hands from the depths, and rising with the slow to show me, graphically, the size of some majesty of size, come quietly to inspect the he had taken, i looked out longingly to- offering. there was no rushing to the ward that sheet of water, now hidden in strike, but, instead, a ponderous and dig- the gloom, and made great plans for the nified advance; and as the leviathan morrow. moved nearer, following the tail-fly, i had dawn came, and we pushed afloat. a glimpse of him as he turned, his eye around us lay the steep slant of hills still cocked up sagely, and marveled at his cloaked with the wisps of night mist, and proportions. on he came—i dared not over the blue-green surface of the pond a stop, but kept the flies drifting along till thin white fog, like smoke, trailed close. the rod lay over my shoulder and the cast tomah, dipping at the paddle, pushed sank back dead upon the water. that along, the prow of the canoe turned toward was the end of it. had he struck then, i a point half way down the lake. “fish no dare say i should have had the bootless catch um here,” he bade me; “only small pleasure of stinging him, and perhaps at feller now. bimeby catch big um.” so the expense of a broken tip. or, on the i waited; and rounding the point, he other hand, i might have stood and pointed forward with the paddle. "look!" watched him maw the feathers and then he said, turning in toward the shore. leisurely spit them out. but trailing on out of the steep heights came a brook, till he saw the canoe, my big fish sheered boiling white along its steps of rock, and away, and sinking slowly in the depths, filling all the woods with sound. swelling like a fading shadow, was gone! from the shore, it poured its swift current thus ended the first lesson: the evils of a into the quiet pond; and all about us were loose line. if i had taken up the slack the bubbles set free and sailing onward from the rod rings in place of hauling on in a glittering argosy along the heaving the cast by the leverage of the rod alone, surface. clots of foam flecked the water there might have been a chance. but here and there; and a great log, jammed once the rod got behind me, i was done. against the rocks, reached out into the gathering up the coils, i went to work pond, holding against its side a sheet of the outing magazine creamy lather. deep water lay all about ing the ashes from his guttering pipe, it; the shore shelved quickly; and though began to grumble anew; and as trout after the sun now was shining over the hills, trout, gingerly freed from the hook, was we could scarcely make out, even in turned back to freedom and a greater age, that piercing light, the gray-green bottom he squirmed about uneasily and vowed strewn with bowlders from the cliffs above. that the fishing was done. “sartin no big once, peering down, i saw a shoal of fish one now," he growled; "no use fishin'. drift by, going on their way like a flight of big one catch um by sundown." so we birds; and on one flat space of yellow swung the canoe away, then, and paddled gravel lay another trout, its mottled back back to camp. clearly outlined, and heading the current when the sun, pitching below the hills with a gentle undulation of its fins. “ssh! that afternoon, warned us to be up and tomah -- wait!” with a thrust of the doing, tomah had a new surprise in store. paddle he stayed the canoe; and aiming taking straight ahead, he slid by the cove for the edge of the foam lying by that fallen and its torrent clinking down the pitch, tree, i dropped the flies at its edge. and aimed for the meadow lying at the splash! i had him! screaming keenly, head of the pond. as we drew down upon the reel gave out its line;. and streaking it, he began looking about him sharply, toward the current, my fish went away fixing some range he had in mind, and toward the open pond, dragging slack as with a sudden sweep of the paddle, brought he went. tomah, all alive now, swept the us to a standstill. “catch um big one bow around, and we followed. nor was here,” he mumbled, and with that drove it the quick dash of any lesser fish that the setting pole into the bottom mud. took us follow-my-leader; but the strong i turned and eyed him with uncertainty; and steady tugging of a big one. out for surely, after that idyllic corner of the there in the open, he settled to the bottom, cove, this seemed no place at all. but and chugging like a salmon, strove to work tomah had chosen deliberately; and an- himself free. tomah grunted exultantly. swering my look with a grin, crooked his “sartin big fish catch um now!” he boasted arm about the setting pole and bade me again, and as the trout went swinging fish. close beside us lay the meadow, its around the canoe, fighting away at every muddy shore fringed with sedge, and be- sight of it, tomah chuckled loudly. in yond that was a small run creeping like a time we had our fish alongside; and to thread of oil beneath its fringe of alders. mah, slipping the net beneath him, brought its mouth lay just abreast of our mooring, the prize aboard, and cracked him across a little bight in the shore, and at each side the snout with the paddle. “sartin good of it a broad float of lily pads heaved on fish,” he observed, after a pause; “mos’ the rising ripple. but when i leaned over t'ree pound, that feller.” to dampen the cast alongside, i found soon nor did the scales show that tomah enough why tomah had brought me here lied-it was three pounds less a scant two —the water touched my fingers with a ounces; and speaking hopefully, tomah chill of ice. somewhere below a spring, said we might get a big one pretty soon. boiling in the depths, drained the waters “p'raps not now,” he ventured; "big fish stored in the hills beyond, and tomah, not catch um mebbe to-night.” coming here by winter, had marked its turning the canoe, he pushed back to that open circle in the ice. it was, after all, a patch of foam; and the sailing flies fell at place for fish; and the first few casts its edge again. brought a rise and a good one. but to- not all fishing to catch fish, perhaps, mah, fumbling at something in the stern, but still the fish are a part of it. while hardly looked up from his work as i tomah, all intent, held the canoe against brought the trout fighting to the net. the gentle current, i took trout after trout for a long time silence ruled. cast after almost as fast as the flies could be pitched cast, i tried the water all about me, but to them. but they were all small fish and after that first rise the trout seemed slow growing smaller in their quick succession to answer. drawing in, i changed the as the hours passed and the sun climbed to flies; and the ones that put forward now its height above the trees. tomah, knock to try these inky depths were a glittering now by hook or crook me. trio left over from salmon rivers—a jock i, too, performed maneuvers; the canoe scott, silver doctor and last of all, a rocked like a ship in a gale and for a butcher. each was a small handful of period i thought we must swim for it. feathers and tinsel in itself; for i felt as but on the next upward rush tomah got sured that if we were to take fish from the his fish going swiftly, and sliding the line black depths around us, we must give through his fingers, whipped the trout them something big enough to see. but aboard, thumping and slatting on the even this assortment brought me no re splints. and at the sight of it a moment's sponse--cast after cast i made, sending sickness of envy came over me. there lay the flies in all directions, but the surface the trout, squirming between tomah's lay untroubled by even the rise of some thumbs, a good four pounds in weight; worthless fingerling. it was slow work, and i turned my back to his gloating. and i said so, to which tomah mumbled “sartin that big one now," he boasted, an affirmative, and with bended head gutturally; but i had no word in answer, busied himself at the stern. and as tomah, with the paddle end, gave plomp! i swung about ready to cover his fish the coup de grace, i turned to the what i took to be the rise of a heavy fishing, but with all the heart gone from fish; and there sat tomah, his arm out in that moment of depression i reck- stretched, once more employed in the oned the sport-pound for pound-that nefarious trade of plugging. he leered this good fish would have offered to a back at me with a grin, jigging his hand light rod and gentle arts, and the thought line up and down; and although i had of its untimely end was a living protest to often scored tomah for his obliquities, i the heathen in his darkness and his means felt somehow that the words were wasted. to achieve an end. tossing the flies toward for tomah, with a soul of the barbarian, the shore, i let them sink beneath the sur- fished for results, and not for the mere face; and then, by little starts, drew them pleasure of fishing. "sartin big one catch gently toward me, inch by inch and with um now," he retorted, sulkily; "feathers a taut line, ready for what befell. no damn good. mus' give big feller some “hoh!” cried tomah. thin' to eat.” there was logic in this—if there was a great splash along the sur- you choose to see it that way—but i face—the waters parted and out of the turned my back to tomah, leaving him as depths arose a fan-like tail, waving chal- a heathen in the darkness. lenge. more through instinct than from long silence followed, ending abruptly any other cause i struck at the ſlurry, and in a grunt. “hoh!” said tomah. the rod hummed beneath my hand. chug! turned around again, leaving the flies to i had him! at the stroke, i felt his settle passively in the depths. a change weight sag back against the yielding of had come over him.' his swart face, fixed the lithe wand; and he turned over, show- on the hand line, gleamed with a sudden ing his broad flank, and settled toward the cunning; and he sat there, alert and quiv bottom. something stirred him then, and ering in the excitement of the moment. the reel buzzed as he went away, whipping “got um fish!” he remarked briefly; and off the line after him. like all big trout, i saw the hand line twitch in his fingers, he fought the struggle heavily, sounding and groaned in spirit at such butchery. for the bottom first, and then scaling away but tomah, barbaric to the last, awakened from the shadow of the boat. tomah, swiftly, and with a sudden yank made sure alive to responsibility, dragged out the of his prey. dragging in the line, hand setting pole from the mud; we lay there over hand, he gave his victim no oppor rocking; and though the rod arched itself tunity for escape; it was a big one, sure in a half-moon, all the pressure of the butt enough, and tomah dragged him upward could not stay that first ponderous rush. like a cod. but as the fish saw the dark foot by foot the silk thread fell away, till shadow of the canoe above, it made a i watched for the spindle to show itself, fiercer struggle to get free; the line ran and stood wondering whether the line was hissing through the fingers of my millicete, knotted to its shank. and he forgot all else, striving frantically "after him, tomah!” | yelled; and to- to snub his fish. in that brief moment mah, snatching up the paddle, put away the outing magazine the courage gingerly in pursuit. once more we were the fish sheered past, he strove to bag it over him, now, and settling to the floor of in full flight, and missing, struck the tense the pond, our fish chugged away at the gut a heavy blow. why it did not part line like a headstrong colt fighting at its shall never know; i yelled to him in alarm; halter. nor could we stop him. there and grinning sheepishly, he settled down on was life and backbone in that light rod i his knees, waiting for another chance. was using, but the weight of the fish and there lay the trout, now close at hand, of him fought off its pressure his tail and fins beating weakly at the wa- at every turn. darkness came stealing ter; and well-nigh spent. yet, with still over the forest and long shadows of the unbeaten courage he made a last effort hills went trooping across the water. thus, for freedom, churning the water in his in the silence and in the gathering gloom flurry, so that hastily i gave him line. of night, we fought it out. another rush but once beneath the surface, that was stripped the reel of its line-a quick plunge the end of it-a moment's faint beating of sounded as he broke beyond our view; and the fins; he rolled over on his side, and led more from the feel of him than by any other gently by the pressure of the rod, scaled help i worked away, giving him slack or along toward tomah. reeling in as the occasion made its demand. 'ready now with the net!” then when the last season of twilight tomah leaned forward, bearing down on popped out like an extinguished taper, the gunwale and with his net half sub- pit-murk darkness settled over the pond; merged. “deeper!" i yelled in alarm; and still he played along, giving no signs and at the cry tomah sprang into life. of defeat. it was because we knew his with another quick swoop he struck at the bigness, i think, that made the battle so fish, blindly almost, and lifting with that long. a smaller fish, though quite as vig same gesture, strove to drag the prize orous, one would have pumped and driven aboard. the aim was poor, the effort till he quit; but the size of this one was a clumsy and misplaced. for one brief in- thing to caution care. softly-softly was stani - years, an eternity in its uncertain- the watchword, and i think i overdid it, ty- beheld that fish we had come so for once, getting a second wind, he dashed far to kill poised on the edge of the land- away with added strength, it seemed, well ing net, and tomah, writhing about, vainly equipped to prolong the fray. the line, trying to shuffle the prize inward. then outstanding at a tangent to the bending it fell-gone, i thought; but the millicete, rod, cut wide circles in the dark; and an all alive now, struck again as the fish lay occasional splash as he fought to the sur on the surface feebly pulsing, and this face was all we had to go by. once, when time had him. tomah had pushed the canoe gently toward all else was forgotten then. with a him, i pumped him to the surface, but at jerk, i instinctively righted the canoe as the sight of us he rushed bottomward the water came pouring in across my again, rapping the rod against the gun knees; and tomah, gaining his balance wales till waited in an agony for the again, dragged the trout aboard. sweet smash-up to end it all. the tip, submerged, music that, after the struggle, to hear him gave no play, and acting quickly, i threw thudding on the splints; and when to- the butt behind me, so that the line ran mah's paddle had performed its last offices out, and thus saved us from disaster. of charity, i reached aft and took him. at last he came to the surface, and close "hunb!” that was tomah's pean of at hand played about the canoe in circles. joy. “hunh!” he grunted; "sartin big tomah, crouching on his knees, held the fish got um now!" landing net outstretched; but tomah, i then i lighted a match; and with what saw soon enough, was hardly a person to that brief flare showed me lying at my handle such affairs of delicacy. once, as feet, i gloried. it was worth it, after all. - - limitations of the brute by m. d. follin are shoes sirlit: here two philosophic handling than it has so far re- classes of writers ceived. mr. burroughs has made a sturdy on natural history fight for his contention that animals do not —those whose gift think; and it must be admitted that the t it is to go afield tendency of the younger men to allow the and there follow temptation of a dramatic situation to lead and record the them into indiscretions has given the vet- happenings of the eran abundant material for criticism. but brutecreation with a human, and more or less fanciful, inter- as much circum- pretation of the actions of animals has been stance and accuracy as lies in their power; the immemorial prerogative of story tell- and those whose work lies in arranging and ers; and no one, except the very young, classifying the materials the others have believes that the thing happened exactly gathered, to make out, if possible, the laws, as related, even in the "just-so stories.” physical and mental, governing the phe- mr. burroughs should have seen that his nomena of creatures other than man. quarrel lay with this interpretation rather what may be called the romantic school than with the stories themselves. this of writers on natural history have, within mistake has led him to obscure what may the past few years, made the physical life have been veritable happenings in the ani- of animals familiar to us in almost every mal world with a cloud of incredulity, when, detail. further than this, they have en by reason of his prominence in the scien- tered into the mental life of the brute crea tific world, we should have expected from tion, investing them with human attributes him unusual open mindedness in consider- and qualities to a degree which, however ing the work of others. justifiable in the poetic mind of the writers, now, it may be true that animals do not the older naturalists felt was not warranted think. it is plain, however, that the ques- by facts. the controversy as to whether tion is not to be settled by multiplying animals can think or not was a fair ex instances of thought, or lack of thought, ample of this. on the part of particular animals. the in support of their view the younger result will depend rather on what we mean writers have carried on their campaign by by "thinking,” one definition of which fascinating stories of animal life in which would as surely include the mental activi- almost human fertility of thought and ties of creatures other than man, as another invention was displayed by their brute would exclude them. friends. against this the older writers, if by "thinking” we mean a mere link- rallying under the standard of john bur- ing of cause and effect, or rather a mere roughs, put forth a number of scholarly voluntary one, one instance absolutely articles maintaining that thought, so far illustrating this is sufficient to establish as concerns the lower animals, is a flat im the principle; and such an instance may possibility, and the stories interesting as be furnished from almost any one's ex- fiction, but distinctly misleading as fact. perience. every day we see dogs, horses, now, the point raised in this controversy birds acting as man would act under like is a nice one, and merits a somewhat more circumstances; exercising, though less the outing magazine often than man, proper contributory causes our own, that is, the preservation of the toward desired effects. a horse will pick individual and the race. it is therefore a knot with his teeth to free himself, or probable that within limits its functions a dog will open the latch of a door; how are identical with the human one. if this ever accidentally the animal may have ac were not so we should have to believe that quired this ability is not relevant; the im man developed a highly specialized organ, portant point is that it uses it voluntarily the brain, functionally active to a tremen- to accomplish a certain result. dous degree, while the lower animals have many writers lay great stress on number- developed in the same way a similar less quite simple experiments in which ani- specialized organ which remains, save for mals have failed entirely to link cause and sense impressions, functionally inert. from effect. it must not be overlooked that an the evolutionist's standpoint such a view experiment which seems quite simple to a is almost unthinkable; nothing but the man may not be at all simple to a dog or a most indisputable evidence would force its horse. but, aside from this, these experi- acceptance, and such evidence has not yet ments show absolutely nothing except the been produced. a much sounder belief is failure of a particular animal to grasp a that man and the lower animals share both special situation. one example in which mental and physical life up to a certain cause and effect are properly, and not for- point. tuitously, joined outweighs them all, for in discussing this question it has often it shows the thing possible. been insisted upon that we can experience the widespread belief that man was the mental life of the lower animals only created “a little lower than the angels” has by being one of them, hence we cannot laid on many writers the strong necessity know definitely of their mental processes, of differentiating him from the lower ani for we must always interpret them in terms mals to an extent which denies much in of our own. this view, to be philosophical, common that they really have. a number must be held in its entirety. carried to will even refuse to allow them any mental its logical conclusion it is that one cannot processes like our own when by so doing know definitely the mental processes of any man's sovereignty seems in danger. now, individual except himself; for it is equally to maintain that the proper connecting of true that these also must be interpreted in cause and effect is the result of intelligence his own private terms. in man alone requires evidence in support but, since knowledge of things is entirely of it more convincing than has as yet been a knowledge of their relations to other brought forward. for proving that in things, and since these relations, so far as the lower animals these certain mental any individual is concerned, are determined processes do not exist involves views al- by the individual's experience, it is obvious- most diametrically opposed to recognized ly possible to share the mental life of an- evolutionary beliefs; in that lies, perhaps, other individual, man or brute, so far as the its chief difficulty. experiences of the two are identical. my mr. burroughs says: “we so habitually knowledge of these relations can never be impute thought to animals that we come quite the same as my neighbor's, for my unconsciously to look upon them as pos- experience is never quite coextensive with sessing this power. that is, creatures act his. therefore i must always interpret his as if they thought. we know that under actions somewhat in terms of my own; similar circumstances we think, and there but, in proportion as my experience and fore we impute thought to them. but of point of view agree with his, my interpreta- mental images, concepts, processes like tion will be correct. so also of the lower our own they probably have none." animals: in proportion as our experience with all due respect for the eminence of comprehends theirs we are qualified to this authority, it would seem, from the recognize their point of view and make a standpoint of evolution, that the probabil correct estimate of their actions. ity was quite the other way. a physical one authority says: “it has often been brain much like that of man they undoubt said that animals have sensations and per- edly have; it was developed in practically cepts, but that one ought not to ascribe to the same way, and for the same purpose as them the possession of concepts. of the limitations of the brute conventional animal of the philosopher question, given a sufficient time and the this may be quite true. we have a right necessity for that special development. to conclude by analogy that it is so, pro to a certain point, likewise, i believe vided only that we are always prepared to that both have a common mental life, but admit that we do not know in the least how with this important difference: that, while animals philosophize—how an ox recog man might develop any of the unusual nizes his stable door." physical capacities attained by the lower the old sovereignty of man dies hard; animals, neither time nor necessity, nor even eminent scientists are enlisted in its both, would enable them to follow us men- defense; but it should have its foundation tally much farther than they have already in truth. it is not true that i do not know done; because they have not the gift of “in the least” how an ox knows his stable language. means of communication they door, any more than it is true that i do not have, some not well understood by us, be- know “in the least” how my neighbor sides various cries and grunts of some little knows his house door. i believe that the definiteness of expression; but nothing that action in both cases is intelligible; that is, could, in any sense, be considered articu- capable of being understood by another late speech, even in its simplest form. intelligence. i believe that in both cases mr. max müller, a recognized authority the individual recognizes its particular door on matters psychological, has an analysis by the door's relations to certain other of man's mental processes which may help things. i cannot know exactly how the us in our search for the difference which door is recognized, because i cannot know mr. burroughs has failed to make clear; it the particular relations laid hold of by an is as follows: first, sensation (the response other mind. but, since he has learned to of the nerves to outside stimuli); from this distinguish it from other doors (either my comes perception (a subjective cognition neighbor, or the ox), i am justified in be of sensation); out of this grows concep- lieving that he has laid hold of some of its tion (a definite mental image with certain special relations. relations); then language. he points out it will be said that this result is reached that these different terms are, of course, through reasoning by analogy. partly so, merely names for more or less indistin- i admit; but analogy is a perfectly legiti- guishable steps in a continuous process; mate process, unless abused; much of the that each part of this is so bound up with practical work of reason is done by it. no the others as to be quite inseparable from one is entirely independent of it, therefore them; but it makes the process clearer, no one is in position to discredit it. the more easily understood. most zealous opponents of animal mental accepting mr. müller's analysis as sub- ity allow them sensation; yet this is either stantially correct, at what point in it do pure analogy, or pure assumption. man and the lower animals part company? mr. burroughs goes too far in saying that mr. muller is of the opinion that animals man and the lower animals have no mental have sensation and perception, but not con- processes in common; for this has not been ception. he frankly admits that he can- satisfactorily proved, and is far from axio not explain why a percept, which invari- matic. in fact, i believe it will be found ably becomes a concept in the case of man, that quite the contrary is the case. we should not do so in the case of a brute; share their physical life, though in many though he does not believe that it does. ways their physical reflexes differ from ours mr. burroughs and prof. thorndike both in degree. thus, a polar bear will stand stop on the hither side of perception, al- cold that would kill a man; a rattlesnake lowing the lower animals mere sensation, will endure heat that a man could not; a though they must see that this leaves many rabbit will hear things inaudible to us; a mental acts without adequate explanation, fly or a hawk see things beyond the power as, for instance, how memory is possible of the human eye. only to a certain without concepts. point, varying with the individual, do we we see that animals do learn by experi- have a physical life in common. but i be ence; that is to say, we see that their re- lieve that man could, in any of these direc sponses to outside stimuli, instead of being tions, equal the powers of the animals in automatic and unchanging, are sometimes the outing magazine modified in the individual when its advan the lower animals all the mentality that tage requires such modification. in "learn their faculties warrant without trespassing ing,” the animal has come to recognize new on a domain belonging exclusively to man. relations; its point of view is changed, its we can ascribe to them voluntary mental normal action under given circumstances activity, we can leave them their simple voluntarily inhibited, and a new and differ images or concepts on which memory de- ent action substituted from which it de pends, we can permit them to link cause rives a benefit. to call this “mere recur and effect as they undoubtedly do, and rent perception" neither explains it nor still have conscious intellectual processes, removes it as an obstacle in the path of something entirely human. the mere perceptionist. instead of being conscious intellectual effort depends "mere perception" it is perception modified absolutely on language, the final step in by new relations not inherent in the percept mr. müller's analysis, because conscious itself, which by the very presence of these intellectual effort is always communicable. acquired relations becomes a concept, and language is the key to the whole mat- as such is a proper basis for memory. ter; without language no thought, with- mr. burroughs has the strong conviction out thought no language, for language is that there is a marked difference between thought. there can be no conscious men- the mental life of man and that of the lower tal activity except in words. the two, animals. in this he is quite correct; there language and thought, are indivisible; sen- is a difference, a gulf which probably can sation, perception and conception belong never be passed. but what he does not to man and the lower animals alike; but see, or at least what he does not make mani language to man alone. through language fest, is what this gulf is and why they can man's conception is expanded to the nth not cross it. his efforts to show exactly power; without it the brute conception is what this difference is are both vague and limited to the barest necessity, and prac- misleading; nor does it appear that prof. tically to individual experience. there- thorndike, on whom he leans, is much fore in man a noble quality, such as justice nearer the truth. to avoid the puzzling for instance, becomes infinitely develop- problems of perception and conception, they able; while in the brute it is, and with- prudently deny to the poor brutes anything out language must always remain, merely beyond mere sensation. rudimentary. now, as a working hypothesis, let us de all life is one; all that man has is poten- fine thought as conscious intellectual effort, tial in the brute, but only potential. lan- for this phrase not only tells what thought guage is that breath of life by virtue of is, but at the same time sets it apart from which man makes the potential the actual. all those related mental activities which therefore in man shall knowledge grow have proved so confusing. with this defi from more to more till he ends in the nition we shall find that we can safely allow spiritual image of god. lat exploring unknown america caspar whitney in the jungle l ast month it was dillon wallace and counter the reported white indians who the news of his start upon his make the strongest kind of arrow and homeward journey by sled and blow-gun dart poison used among south snowshoe from the wilds of labrador. american savages. to find out about this month it is caspar whitney who, by these tribes and those farther down the the time this magazine appears, is in the orinoco, who are said to be unusually heart of the south american jungle. short of stature and to be cannibalistic, word has just arrived from manaos at the formed part of mr. whitney's object in junction of the amazon river and the rio making the trip. negro, where mr. whitney was preparing to there are rapids on the upper negro begin his two thousand mile trip along the which he must pack around, and thirty desolate interior waterways of northern miles of rapids midway on the orinoco south america. the task ahead of him, where a portage will be necessary. the he says frankly, is one of the hardest he has jungle through which he will paddle for ever undertaken, the very hardest since his fifteen hundred miles is known only for its famous barren ground trip. indians, its yellow fever and its desolation, he ascends the rio negro four hundred promising little or nothing in the way of and twenty miles to santa isabel by a little food. flat bottom, stern wheel trading steamer, he reports from manaos great difficulty which at the time his letter was written was in getting any one to go with him. the lying idle at manaos because of low water, brazilians shake their heads at the idea of although it draws only three and a half going farther into the wilderness than they feet. from santa isabel he transfers his have gone or of going beyond certain de- outfit to a canoe and paddles three hundred fined limits of known territory. at the and eighty miles to the mouth of the cas time he was writing he was trying to obtain siquiare river. he follows the cassi the services of enough indians to make up quiare river two hundred miles to its junc his expedition. tion with the orinoco; and canoes down the “i expect a hard trip,” he writes, “but orinoco to ciudad bolivar, nine hundred i am not going into it with my eyes closed and fifty miles, the end of the dangerous or only partially open. i know i am to have journey. he paddles, therefore, more one of the hardest-the very hardest since than fifteen hundred miles of the way. my barren ground venture. you can along the upper rio negro he passes have full confidence in my getting through, through a desolate country inhabited only however, because i intend to go through, by indians. he has seen a few of these right side up. i am prepared to encounter indians at the fort of manaos, “ brought in everything from yellow fever to indians, from up the rio negro where their tribe had grubless country and all the rest of it.” raided a small stray settlement and killed dillon wallace has returned from labra- a number with their poisoned arrows. the dor, and the thrilling story of his journey indians are rather tall, but very slender, will begin the august issue. copper colored, and use bows from six to mr. whitney is, of course, the editor seven feet long with arrows full six feet in of the outing magazine, and mr. wal- length, the tip being dipped in a poison lace represents, in his successful journey called curare, a very strong brew known through unmapped labrador, the spirit of only to the indians. they wear no leonidas hubbard, jr., once an associate clothes." editor of the outing magazine, who the lower cassiquiare district is also gave up his life on that first expedition desolate. of the upper cassiquiare he has into the labrador wild. this magazine not been able to learn anything. along has sent out both of these expeditions as it the upper orinoco he will probably en has sent out others in the past, not only be- the outing magazine mouth of the orinoco riv. .......... colon by trading steamer by canoe heavily lined river shows location of rapids where portage must be made caracas orinoco rive paramaribo lan t to leg cuidad bolig cayenne pana bogota cassique jare riv. santa isabel ocean mouths of the amazon riv. marajos ce equator rio negra spara river mallad amazon ... altiord pernambuco th scale of miles from manaos to santa isabel, miles. on the cassiquiare river to the upper orinoco river, miles. from santa isabel to the mouth of cassiquiare, miles. on the orinoco river to ciudad bolivar, miles. a total distance from manaos to ciudad bolivar of , miles, of which mr. whitney travels more than . miles by canoe. the author of "white fang" cause it stands for the adventurous amer types which jack london has stamped ican, the man in whom remains, undying, with his own hall-mark. for so young a the old-time pioneer spirit, but because as man, his influence upon current fiction has well it believes it is doing a valuable public been singularly impressive. a host of imi- service in exploring new parts of what is tators has followed in his wake, but with- getting to be an old country, in carefully out the touch of genius to handle these mapping out districts that have been big passions and motives. jack london practically unknown, and in furnishing ac has dealt much with cruelty and lust of curate knowledge of the people and the blood and the raw and naked brute in man, animals and the vegetation that live in but there has been always a story to tell, them; in making the way easier, in a word, a motive to handle, and a fine sense of to coming generations of americans. proportion. this is, we believe, part of the mission of he is one of the most picturesque prod- an optimistic american magazine, a maga ucts of that literary california which has zine that believes in our national future. given us bret harte and frank norris and joaquin miller. an untamed and uncon- the author of “white ventional man from his youth up, london fang” has fought his way to the front with a cheerful disregard for obstacles. a sailor the publication in the outing maga and sealer and fisherman in san francisco zine of jack london's latest serial, “white bay and on the pacific, the world brutally fang,” is one of the leading literary events clubbed him for years, but it could not of the year in the united states. from keep him down. his sympathies were en- the editorial view-point, it is another strik listed in the cause of the under world be- ing proof that the appeal of this magazine cause he lived in it, and he became a has far outgrown what may be called the rampant socialist by force of environment. field of authoritative sport. while it it is true, however, that even those who maintains its prestige in this quarter, it laugh at his socialistic theories, admire his has also become one of the leading maga work as that of one of the dominant figures zines for the general reader who likes virile in the american fiction of to-day, while at and wholesome fact and fiction, as hopeful the same time they respect his honesty of and stimulating as the great outdoors purpose in championing the down-trodden which is the peculiar province of the out of our complex civilization. ing magazine. “white fang” follows just now jack london is building a serials by stewart edward white, alfred forty-foot schooner in which he will set out henry lewis and charles g. d. roberts, for a seven-year voyage around the world. and will be succeeded by an uncommonly his wife will go with him, and there will entertaining serial by chester bailey fer be only two men in his crew. this is, in a nald. way, a literary pilgrimage, but it is safe jack london, in the opinion of a multi to say that the young man's love of ad- tude of readers, wrote his best story in venturous living and for the wide and open “the call of the wild.” he has returned spaces has had something to do with this to a similar atmosphere, background and hazardous purpose. in other words, what movement in “white fang," with a kin he writes he lives, and when he tells of the dred theme, handled as a contrast in de sea, or of a "sea wolf,” he grips you hard velopment when compared with "the call because he has gathered his facts and his of the wild.” the hero is a dog, and it is inspiration at first hand. not telling the story too much in advance "the call of the wild" was inspired by to reveal the fact that this wild and wolfish the author's own experiences in the klon- hero with which the tale opens is, in the dike as a gold-seeker. “white fang” is end, tamed and led away from his primi- another great story, not only because jack tive savagery. london has the gift of story-telling, but there are men in the story, of course, also because he has lived and suffered all and they are the red-blooded, elemental that he so intimately describes. school and college world by ralph d. paine a very worthy tribute to james for an athletic club than for his college, e. sullivan even in vacation time," he said. “there is added honor for the college if it includes a among its athletic trophies the holding of a of athletes sailed to compete in the national championship. but when a man olympic games at athens, james e. sulli represents an athletic club, he surrenders van was a guest of president roosevelt for his personality and his college prestige to luncheon at the white house. the presi the club team. it would be much better dent had been requested by the king of for him to go into these outside competi- greece to appoint an official representative tions wearing his college colors and proud who should accompany the american team of them. i think that a man should take in order that fitting honor and respect as much pride in winning a national cham- might be paid the nation whose strong and pionship for his college as in winning an fleet young men had undertaken so formi intercollegiate championship. this point dable a pilgrimage for no other reward than has been under discussion for a good many glory. instead of naming some one who years, whether or not college men in college might claim this distinction by reason of should compete for athletic clubs while political or social preferment, the president they are undergraduates. it seems to me selected james e. sullivan as the official most advisable to bar them from this kind delegate from this government. of competition until they have ceased to by means of this selection president wear the college colors. then they can do roosevelt wished to pay his own tribute as they please. to the many years of devoted effort toward it was pointed out in the course of the the cause of clean sport in the united discussion that in thirty years only five states which mr. sullivan has placed to his men have competed for the national cham- credit as secretary of the amateur athletic pionships of the a. a. u. under their college union. and inviting him to luncheon was colors." these loyal sons were sherriil, president roosevelt's wholesome fashion brooks and mitchell of yale; prinstein of of letting mr. sullivan know that his work syracuse and page of the university of was appreciated and that his success had pennsylvania. of course the attraction been followed by this most distinguished for the college athlete to enroll himself in citizen of the nation who could find time to some strong athletic club for the summer pat a champion of clean athletics on the consists of the training table and expense back and say: “good work. you have done account, the free trips and the good fellow- more than any other one man to make our ship of training at such a charming country organized athletics what they ought to be club as the home of the new york athletic -a fair field and no favor.' club at travers island. shortly after his visit to washington, but his first duty is to his college after mr. sullivan said to a friend: all. he has learned to run or to jump, he “that was a more satisfactory reward has been cared for and developed, by the for my work than if somebody had handed college trainer and the college organization, me a purse of ten thousand dollars. think and the college athletic treasury has footed of the president finding time to dig me up the bills to put his talent on edge and bring and talk over the problem of keeping ama m.im out. if by competing in important teur athletics straight in this country, when outside events in vacation time he can the secretary of war and the secretary of bring honor to his college and increase the state were at the same table.” respect for and the prestige of her colors, now the work of "jim" sullivan has there lies his duty, as straight as a string. often taken him from his chosen province and by calling attention to a practice of supervising the athletic club organiza- which really lies beyond his own bounda- tion and the regulation of amateur status ries, secretary sullivan shows again how at large, into the field of college athletics genuine is his interest in the best kind and which are, generally speaking, under a the most wholesome conduct of american government of their own. and when the athletic pastime. and he got no more secretary of the a. a. u. has invaded the than he deserved when president roose- college world by ruling or criticism, his velt warmed the cockles of his heart by opinions have been worth listening to. paying formal tribute to his work toward not long ago he was talking about certain making honest and sturdy americans. undergraduate athletes who have been the training table and its sentiment competing under the colors of outside athletic clubs. in the general overhauling of college “i cannot understand the state of mind ath cs, th new brooms have threatened of the college man who would rather run to sweep away the training table. it has school and college world been vigorously attacked by many reform- captain came along who was not afraid to ers as one of the symptoms which go to grab precedent by the tail and swing it show that athletics are made a business of. around his head. his men were given all some colleges have shortened the training the chilled, not iced, water they cared to table season, where it has not been actually drink, and they were happy and strong and abolished, and henceforth it is to be made wiped up the field with their doughtiest a less important item of the athletic outlay. foe. now it is true that the training table has going back of this a few years, we find been extravagantly conducted, and main the college athlete subsisting on a barbar- tained for a longer period of the season than ous diet of raw beef and oatmeal. if he may be necessary. but a good many dared nibble the wholesome diet of the thousand of us one-time athletes will rise average mortal, something dreadful would to defend its sentimental value apart from happen to him, but he was so loyal to his its practical worth in the programme of absurd system that he never took any making sound bodies. risks. step by step, the training table has the worst charge that can be laid against resolved itself into a rational programme of it is that it has provided a means for giving diet with a wide variety, such as all of us free board to “athletic students," who have ought to stick to the year round. and now figured this gratuitous provender as among its term is to be curtailed, a sensible proceed- the inducements which have swayed their ing, for there is no sound reason why an choice of a college. if there is an honest athlete should spend half his college year endeavor and purpose to keep the athletics living on the treasury, for there is a very of a college clean, the training table need wide margin between the price of board not be a menace to honesty. it is simply a that can be fairly charged up to the eater, matter of bookkeeping to charge every man and the cost of the same. i have known a fair price for his board and see to it that the cost of the training table to run as high he pays it. because the training system as fifteen and eighteen dollars a week per has been abused, it is not fair to blame the man, which is absurd. it must be re- system. the trouble rests with the men membered, however, that the athlete when who are running college athletic affairs he is really hungry, which is most of his every time. waking time, consumes twice the weight of in any college where athletics have been provender you could really expect him to established through two or three genera- hold. he has no use for horace fletcher- tions, the training table has certain tra ism, or any other foolish notions about ditions and customs whose origin is obscure. playing at eating. college towns are full things are done in a certain way, because of landladies who have gone bankrupt on they were done that way last year and the contracts to run a training table, after year before, and so on back as far as the doubling the price charged normal guests. memory of the onlooker can carry it. now eliminating the unreasonably long, sea- and then there comes an outburst of in son and the free board" evil, the training vestigation, the reformers get busy and table becomes an admirable part of the are rash enough to ask why things have to athletic organization. it throws together be done in just such and such a fashion. in a close communion a lot of pretty manly because the crew training table has always young fellows, who find here reward for started in the first week of march, your old their toil on field and track and river. it timer never thinks of trying to find out is almost the only social feature of their whether the oarsmen would not thrive as training life, and heaven knows we need lustily if the date was postponed until all the diversion our young men can find april. or he will observe: in their football and rowing. it makes "we have always had rice pudding friendships and knits the bonds of college tuesdays and thursdays for dinner, and loyalty and makes for a fine kind of senti- ice cream sundays, and i suppose we al ment. it maintains a discipline and re- ways will. i don't know whether the sys- straint, which is another good thing for tems of the men would be upset if we young men to experience, and it teaches switched the pudding to mondays and regular hours and good habits of living. fridays, but i'd hate to take a chance on as a rule you will find that the man who it.” ate at the training, table in college has there was once a football training table carried along into his later years a simple at which for many years the men were and vigorous appetite for the right kinds fairly tortured by thirst. they were per of food. he is not finicky, he does not mitted to drink two glasses of water at have to spur a jaded palate, and he has each meal, and none between times, and only one grave fault to find with all existing one glass just before going to bed. this rations, no matter how costly the menu: might have sufficed an ordinary man en “i can never, never find beef like that gaged in a sedentary pursuit, but these we used to get at the training table." young gladiators were sweating off from alas, beef is as prime and juicy now as three to five pounds of their weight every then, but our critic has grown older. tinker warm afternoon. team after team suf with the training table, oh, ye athletic fered and swore and was feverish for lack overseers, restrain its operation within of enough drinking water, until a bold normal bounds, but do not let your strenu- the outing magazine ous zeal for reform lead you to banish it this to see his own teams compete, while on from the training programme. the other hand it is as fair to charge the outsider two dollars or two dollars and a a readjustment of athletic conditions half, which he will cheerfully pay. the the sports of spring time are in full issue in this crusade against college athletic swing, and the baseball and track and row finances is, after all, not the amount of ing squads are gloriously busy, thousands money handled, but the manner of spending upon thousands of them. more young it. if these funds are used to equip play- men have turned out to “try for teams ing fields, and foster a wide variety of than ever before, and the reports the coun pastime, then a big income is as legitimate try over indicate that college sport was for the athletic association as for the college never in such healthy and flourishing con treasury. dition. the storm which swept the foot- the rise of rugby football ball world has eddied into the kindred fields of sport, and in the readjustment of the english game of rugby football, conditions, rowing and track athletics and oddly enough, has become a flourishing baseball have new problems to solve. spring sport, on many fields challenging wherever football has been abolished or baseball for student interest. the young suspended, as at columbia, northwestern men who are playing it find it good fun, university and at the stanford and cali and some of them are talking of it seriously fornia universities, the college athletic as a rival of the american college game finances have been jolted to their center. which has been recently torn to shreds and many amiable but uninformed critics of tatters by friend and foe. rugby will be swollen football gate receipts seemed to be no more than a minor sport on the ameri- under the impression that these surplus can campus, however, and its popularity bank accounts were thrown out of the at present is somewhat faddish and re- window, or into the wrong pockets. the actionary. it is easy to play the game fact is that football has been supporting after a fashion, but not easy to play it well, the other branches of sport which could not as all will agree who were fortunate enough pay their way, such as rowing and track to see the experts from new zealand play athletics. if football gate receipts are an exhibition match in new york. the seriously reduced, then the non-supporting american collegians who are “monkeying pastimes must be maintained by popular with it" at present will not be content to subscription. leave the scrimmage formless and inchoate football and baseball games ought to be if they make a serious study of the game, offered to the undergraduate for a small and sooner or later they will begin to sys- price of admission, at the same time letting tematize it, just as their forefathers did the outside public pay for its tickets such when they took it and fashioned from it the amounts as would supply a surplus which american college game. could be devoted to supporting the poverty it is the fashion now to bark at the men stricken departments of athletics. yale who have made the american game, but it has put into operation a commendable re ought to be remembered that this game form by wiping out the "level premium" has been an evolution, largely influenced system by which every undergraduate was by truly american traits of character and dunned for eight dollars a year toward the temperament.. the rugby game became support of the athletic association. here in tíme a highly systematized machine be- after the undergraduate is to be given a cause of the american talent for organiza- square deal at new haven, where a rea tion in business and pastime. it became sonably economical administration will at length too highly organized, and the provide abundant funds for the conduct of machine has had to be loosened up again, almost all sports from the gate receipts of the new rules committee has done its football alone. elsewhere, however, re work with commendable thoroughness and form will have gone to a very unwise ex intelligence. the game as it will be played treme if football receipts are so cut down this year will include the most radical as to cripple the other sports dependent changes made since the introduction of upon them. the financial problem cannot interference. more has been accomplished be rightly solved by any headlong attack than the most ardent reformers of two years upon existing methods until there has been ago hoped to see in their day and genera- worked out a careful method for finding tion. the ten-yard rule, the forward pass, funds that are genuinely needed in order and the practical abolition of mass play to diversify the range of athletic pastime behind the line mean a vastly more inter- for the campus. esting game, with wide opportunity for the decision of the western colleges brilliant coaching innovations. all friends conference to limit the price of admission of college sport will suspend judgment until to fifty cents, including reserved seats, for the new game is thoroughly tested. mean- all members of the university is a wise while rugby will be played, and long life handling of this important problem. the to it, for we cannot have too many kinds of undergraduate ought to pay no more than games on our athletic fields. - taking an automobile abroad by walter hale e never realized the interest our friends illinois, who told me to carry a hydrometer to test the gasoline. the italians in the until we declared our intention of touring country towns have a habit of watering europe in an american car. from that time their stock, and the first panne we had on we were overwhelmed with advice from came from that cause. all quarters. advice is cheap anyway, and we were told to get a canopy top, too; it seemed of little moment that most of the but i refused, secure in the belief that we advisers had never dreamed of undertaking would encounter little rain during the a similar stunt themselves. summer months. it poured almost con- “you must be sure and carry yards and stantly for the three weeks we were in the yards of stout rope," said a friend in chi apennines and along the adriatic coast, cago. though our ponchos and rubber caps were “why rope?" i asked. ample protection against the occasional “rope is one of the finest things to have showers we ran through afterwards. around an automobile. you never can tell clocks, shock absorbers, technical books, when you may need a tow; it's useful to extra brakes, muffler cut out (many a time tie on luggage, and when you are going in the mountains i regretted not having through sandy places and on slimy roads that put in), alcohol stove for making tea, you can cut it up in chunks and tie it luncheon basket, speed indicator, aneroid around the rear tires to keep the car from barometers for taking the altitude, field skidding. glasses, wicker basket for holding extra can as a matter of fact, the only time we had of gasoline, and innumerable styles of ham- occasion to harness a horse to the car, the pers, were among the accessories we were farmer who came to our aid was amply told we couldn't possibly do without. provided with straps to fasten the traces to a delightful tour through normandy and the front axle. this horse had evidently brittany, with the late kirke la shelle, been nursing a grouch against automobiles had first inspired me with the ambition to for a long time. it took us half an hour to own and drive a car on the continent my- get him hooked up, and when we finally self, and the experience was of great assist- started he gave a snort of wrath and ance in showing me what was really neces- galloped into the little town of aiguebelle, sary for the trip. so i was adamant when in savoy, as though the devil himself was i found madame on the day before sailing at his heels. standing distracted in the midst of motor- a man in new orleans wanted to know ing hats, caps, goggles, veils, cloaks, boots, if i was quick with a gun. i told him i parasols, gauntlets, face masks and foot didn't know; that i'd always been a fair muffs, all recommended by persistent shot with the old springfield, when i was friends, and a great deal of which i insisted in the minnesota militia. must be sacrificed. “oh, it isn't the same thing, at all; wealthy automobilists have been touring that's just child's play, nothin' to it. europe for years. it is for the benefit of what you want is a 'colt . if you don't men, who, like myself, must consider the know much about it, practice on the gulls cost, and who believe that half the sport on the way over, and when you start from comes from driving the car, and overcoming naples have it handy in your coat pocket. the obstacles alone, sans chauffeur, that i'm you never can tell what you're going to giving a list of our equipments and showing meet up with in those mountain fastnesses; the principal expenses they must meet. and the fancy game is to shoot 'em up, a i have a friend from the west who owns whole lot first, and then inquire what's the and drives a high-powered "fiat, who matter afterwards. i know those eye confesses he doesn't know what goes on talians; we have a whole bunch of 'em when he changes speed; he leaves that to workin' round here on the railroad.' the chauffeur. he was among the number through all our tour on the continent, on who sent up prayers for my safety and pic- lonely stretches in the pontine marshes tured me under the car in a broiling sun, or and wild passes in the mountains, the most keeping lonely vigil by its side on a dark formidable object we encountered was a night in the mountains waiting for help to placid black cow, which loomed up in the come from the nearest town. glare of the searchlight, and looked to my when we sailed from boston on the distorted imagination like a highwayman white star liner canopic last may, the car on horseback. was crated and stored in one of the forward some of the suggestions were practical, holds, where it could be easily gotten at on like the one from a friend in champaign, landing. one of the agents had agreed to the outing magazine carry it uncrated, but an obstacle loomed up at the last moment in the shape of a dock superintendent, who it developed was really a more powerful factor than the manager of the company himself. we argued in vain, with the result that the car was hastily, though thoroughly, boxed on the dock at a cost to me of only about thirty-five dollars. under ordinary cir- cumstances to crate a fully equipped tour. ing car costs from sixty dollars to one hundred dollars. the price for the same work is considerably less in france. the rate from boston to naples at the time was twelve shillings sixpence per ton of forty cubic feet; it has since been raised to twenty shillings on all important lines, sailing to the mediterranean. at the old rate, my car cost thirty-six dollars, which did not include lighterage from the ship to the wharf, in naples, amounting to about five dollars more. the cost of getting it through the custom house is not very heavy, but i thought it ridiculously slow and full of red tape, until i had experienced the hold-up on one's return to his native land. there was a tax for stamp, and another for guardia-a gentleman in uni- form who stared vacantly at the car for two hours, and saw that the neapolitan wharf rats didn't run away with it. then a charge of two dollars for issuing the license, another of about three dollars for keeping the office open after hours in order to issue the license, then the license itself, permitting me to drive where i wotted in the king's domain, and finally the duty, which amounted to twenty-five dollars in italy, and one hundred and twenty-six dollars in france, remitted in both cases on crossing the frontier. the duty is based on the number of springs in italy, and on the weight of the car in france; in the former case a leaden seal is attached to one of the springs, and another to the steering wheel, and they must not be disturbed or tampered with, if the owner expects to recover his money on leaving the country. most drivers declare their cars considerably under weight on entering france, to máke the deposit as small as possible, though all of this annoy. ance can be avoided if one is a member of the automobile club of america, which has established reciprocal relations with the touring clubs of both countries, allowing many privileges, and the special price for their valuable books and maps. the car went through the italian dogana in about three hours; they kept it in the new york custom house, on our return, for over two weeks and the crate disap- peared entirely, though i had distinctly stated that i wished it kept for use another year. i had shipped it by steamer from naples to antwerp, then we changed our plans, and it was given a boat ride back to havre to await our sailing. it had been so constantly in my thoughts that i really became attached to that crate. for equipment, we carried a trunk on the platform at the rear of the car held in place by straps running fore and aft and from side to side, through iron clips screwed to the floor. there was room for a deck basket between the trunk and the seat, in which we carried four extra inner tubes, ponchos, waterproof caps, guide-books, wraps and articles that we wished to have easily accessible. we strapped a suit case on top and a long box was placed on the footboard on the right side of the car, fastened by lock and key. in this we carried the heavier tools for repairs and adjustments, a jack, a rubber pail, which we found most useful, extra spindle bearings and spare parts packed in waste, oil and grease, carbide for the generator, tire-repair kit, pump, oil cans, files, etc. you can buy gasoline anywhere in france, but for long runs through the mountains in italy i found it necessary to carry, a five-gallon can strapped to the board in front of the tool box for use in emergencies. the smaller parts were stored under the seat, a complete supply of extra bolts and nuts, and chamois for straining the gasoline, extra spark plugs, vibrator springs, contact points, coils of copper wire, spanners and other tools. except for the balls, cups, cones, etc., of the bearings, we carried no heavy extra parts, like connecting rods, spokes or extra gears. we hung two extra shoes on side irons at the left of the car, and the odometer showed only on the wheel, where it wasn't half so useful as the more expensive ones on the dash. i added a searchlight to the usual lamp equipment, which we found of the greatest service on the winding roads in the hills, where it could be operated from side to side to pick out the curves long before the car reached them. i had a sprag attached to the front axle, which could be dropped from a hook on the dash; we seldom found use for it, but on one occasion it held when the boakes didn't, and probably saved us from trouble. it is rather hard to determine what of these extras would be found most useful; we were unusually fortunate in escaping serious breaks and accidents. our tour began at naples, and ended at havre, a total distance of , miles, through rome, foligno, gubbio, and over the apennines to pesaro and rimini, which is the end of the via flaminia, the ancient highway built by the romans to connect the capitol with the cities of the adriatic. then the route lay along the wide and level via emilia, another roman relic, and one of the finest roads in all italy, to bologna and piacenza. we went back over the moun- tains again to genoa—which is approached from the north by an atrociously rocky highway nearing the city—and recrossed them a fourth time from savona on italian riviera, en route to turin. we taking an automobile abroad reached susa, at the foot of the alps, on is pre-eminently the country for the motor- sunday, july th, the day of the great ist, just as he will avoid the rock-throwing hill-climbing race up the mont cenis pass. peasants and general ill feeling in switzer- the distance is twenty-three kilometers, or ſand as he would the plague. the roads about seventeen miles, and the road turns are perfect and beautifully graded, gener- and twists through gorges and around ally running through avenues of trees. dizzy ridges, up a twelve per cent. grade, sign boards and warnings of dangerous till it is lost above the clouds at the summit descents and curves are sprinkled every- , feet above the sea. our route then where, and the food and service in the little lay through lanslebourg, chambery, aix hotels are infinitely better than in more les bains, lyons, roanne, nevers and pretentious places in the united states, at montargis to paris and from there through about half the cost. vernon, rouen and yvetot to havre. while the italians may hold you up for we never took the extra shoes off the hotel prices, they do it so politely that it's side irons during the journey and only almost a delight to be robbed; and on the picked up two punctures in the whole dis countryside everywhere one gets a "buon tance, which was great good luck for us and giorno" or a wave of the handkerchief from spoke well for our tires. the peasants in the fields, who have not yet i had a lot of trouble in italy through become blase about the automobile and watered and dirty gasoline, though i al look upon it as a nine days' wonder. the ways saw that it was carefully strained, and french countryman is so accustomed to i had only two serious breaks with the motor cars that they awaken little interest engine. the high speed clutch broke when in him. i was surprised to find how little i was thirteen miles up in the mountains his superiors observed the etiquette of the from savona, and i had to alternately road, as we are taught to practice it at coast and climb on the low speed to get home. during the four or five times i was back to the city. the car was ready again stopped en panne a number of automobiles in three days, and the cost of casting a new whizzed by without even slowing down to band at the foundry and making a new suggest assistance. on the other hand, the clutch out of bessemer steel was a trifle less italians invariably come to a full stop, with than twenty-five dollars, or about what it an offer of help, when they find a brother would cost to make the wooden pattern motorist in trouble. alone at home. gasoline in italy cost me as much as one it is a mistake to suppose that mechani dollar and twenty-five cents per gallon in cians on the continent do bad work on an some places, and wasn't good at that; american car, as i had been told, or that though the average price was from eighty they charge exorbitant prices for repairs. cents to a dollar, and in france, where the it takes them a little longer to understand quality is uniform, it only costs about twice the engine, but once they do, they work as much as it does in new york. it is quickly and thoroughly, generally at a price really the most serious item of expense, but far below what we expect to pay for it. the cost of living is so much less, and the the brakes had seemed all right when i charges for repairs are so much cheaper started to cross the alps, but when we be that the balance is really all in favor of gan the descent they failed to hold, and i touring abroad. had to throw in the low speed to check the the question of taking an american car car at the turns and used the reverse to over depends largely on the owner's famil- stop it when we got to the foot of the pass. iarity with the engine. the strain stripped the gears, and the car that it can be done, and done success- had to be dismounted, new brake bands fully, tourists are proving every summer. made, and the gears thoroughly overhauled the most important thing is to thoroughly in aix, yet the whole bill was not more understand your car, and to put it through than sixty dollars. the most rigid tests, so that whatever flaws as for the hotels in italy, they are in exist can be remedied before it is put clined to raise the prices for motorists. aboard the steamer. “car coming!” they cry, and the green the roads on the continent, leading aproned porters rush out to greet the through forests, along poplar-lined avenues, travelers, laying violent hands on the past villages and vineyards in the valleys luggage, while the landlord murmurs and under snow-capped peaks in the "sting 'em," or its italian equivalent. he mountain passes are beautiful almost be- at once shows you the bridal chamber, a yond words; but from a practical stand- large, cold, hall-like place; but we adopted point they are frightfully hard on tires, and the system of not shutting off the engine, their flinty surfaces, smooth enough to the and generally convinced him that we could eye, put a constant hammering strain on easily, go somewhere else, and that all the working parts of an automobile. a americans were not necessarily millionaires. car must be stoutly built to stand up to in france they make every effort to en such work, and it's rather amusing to hear courage travel by automobile, realizing how some patriots howl against the foreign cars, it has brought new life to the country because, as they say, they are not adapted hotels and little villages and what a vast to our roads, which, to be sure, are rougher industry its manufacture has become. it but much more resilient. the outing magazine half the so-called touring cars made in the united states in no way deserve the title from the standard established in france, italy and germany. it is not al- ways a question of horse power, but of strength and adequate control. three speeds or more ahead are an absolute necessity; the hills are seldom short enough to rush them, and the steady steep grades in the mountains are out of the question on the high speed, except for high powered cars geared low. an owner who thinks of taking a car with two speeds ahead to the continent for touring purposes will save himself a lot of nervous worry if he leaves it at home, and, by the same token, four cylinders relieve some of the responsibility one feels who has only two. a writer in one of the magazines recently says that a touring car should be supplied with at least four brakes, which is rather too many in my opinion, though when one has come down , feet of an alpine pass without any at all he is apt to become a stanch advocate of a machine that brakes on the transmission as well as on the hubs. when your car is properly equipped and tested, there is a beautiful holiday awaiting you along the natural highways on the continent. there are picturesque old towers and castles dotting the landscape, ancient roman walls and bridges, and miles of verdant forest through which the white road winds like a snake to end abruptly at some little village, where the inn is open night and day with a kindly welcome for the motorist. there are no speed laws except in the cities, and those the thought- ful driver would observe anyway. there is uniform courtesy if one meets the people half way. with ordinary good luck you will escape serious trouble, and if things break or get out of order, the nearest town is not far distant, with nearly always a blacksmith and a mechanician. there are roads up steep hills into some medieval stronghold in italy, where the battlements frown at the twentieth century invader, or under covered driveways into the residence of one of the bourbon kings in france; there are rugged passes along the gorges or through tunnels in the apen- nines, and the wonderful blue lines of the adriatic dotted with bright-colored sails spread at one's feet when the summit is reached. there is the quick change from the sun-baked roads on the plain of the emilia to the chill winds and gray skies of the alps, where the villages down in the valley become smaller and smaller until the sunlight is shut off entirely, and one is enveloped in a cloak of mist which deadens all sound save the steady purring of the engine. there are nights along the riviera, when the soft wind in one's face is heavy with the scent of flowers; there are roads in france patroled so well that one can follow the way past lake and river and over the hills in absolute safety, though the moon is be- hind the clouds; or again when the rain falls in torrents and the car skips and skids in the mud, and the warmth and comfort of the country hotel are doubly welcome when the journey is ended. all this, and more, awaits the motorist who can say, with monte cristo, “the world is mine”; but if he has the true in- terests of the sport at heart, he will observe the rules of the road and save himself a lot of annoyance by showing proper consideration and respect for the customs of the country. the racquets season reviewed by george h. brooke the che annual championships in racquets of the united states both in singles and doubles, were won by representatives of boston. percy haughton, the famous ex-fullback_of harvard, won the singles, and hugh d. scott paired with richmond fearing, won the doubles. mr. scott is a former philadelphian and represented that city in racquets for several years, but he learned his game originally in boston when he was an undergraduate at harvard. the singles championship held in boston brought out a good field of entries, although the absence of harold mccormick of chi- cago and clarence h. mackay and milton s. barger of new york was a distinct loss, for their presence in the tournament would have completed entirely the list of racquets experts in this country. the victory of haughton was unexpected, but it should not have been as much of a surprise as it was in the light of his athletic achievements in other lines. and although mr. haughton has not been playing rac- quets very long, comparatively speaking, yet from the very beginning he has dis- played an unusually good form and style in his play. it was this easy form com- bined with remarkable coolness which took him through the tournament and won him the championship this year in his final contest with payne whitney. the racquets season reviewed owing to an agreement entered into the first match of importance was be- several years ago the championship was tween lawrence waterbury, cham- played off in the courts of the boston ath pion, and austin potter. potter surprised fetic association which are quite inferior to his friends by his excellent showing against the bickley courts at either the boston or the champion. he won the first and the new york racquet and tennis clubs. fourth games, waterbury taking the second the front wall and floor in the athletic and third. when it came to the pinch association courts have been “bickley in the last game, however, waterbury's ized,” but even at that the court was quite superior service told and he won the game tricky and uncertain. perhaps this tricki by the one-sided score of . the sec- ness of the court had something to do with ond round found four boston players, two the failure of quincy a. shaw, jr., to make from new york and one each from chi- a better showing, because mr. shaw plays cago and philadelphia left in the struggle. remarkable shots when he gets well set for at the end of this round all were weed- the strokes; but no one can get well set for ed out but two bostonians and two new a stroke when the court is uncertain. yorkers. perhaps this same result might have the feature of this round was the sensa- happened in the case of clarence h. mackay tional finish of whitney in his match with if he had been playing in this tournament, brooke, after the latter had won the two for he is another expert who plays in beau first games. whitney then did better and tifully finished form. he is absolutely at after a very hard fight won the last three home in the perfect courts of the tuxedo games. whitney's service was remarkably club and has proven invincible there. mr. effective in this match, and he scored no mackay also went easily through to the fewer than aces by service out of his championship of the new york racquet total of aces in the whole six games. and tennis club this year, playing the his most effective service was a terrific cut most brilliant racquets of his career which that carried from the side wall to the back includes a singles championship a few years wall and then went dead on the floor off the ago. it was regretted on all sides that back wall. business made it impossible for him to go in this round also came the match be- to boston. his style of game is very pretty tween shaw and waterbury. many bos- to watch, but his most telling stroke is kill tonians thought the fate of the tournament ing the ball in the front corners. hung on this match. the match proved one of the most interesting and com to be an extremely interesting one. water- paratively unknown players is harold mc bury took the first game quite easily and cormick of chicago. ever since mr. shaw the second game still more easily. mccormick came to new york last year then both men settled down into a fight to in the championships and played through the finish. in the third game waterbury the first round, his game has been much by a remarkable run of service made the discussed and argued about. he won his score - , when shaw went in and by first match with great ease and brilliancy, racquets of the most brilliant order, pulled and in his preliminary practice matches out ii aces in three successive hands. with george standing, the new york pro then he put himself out on an unlucky fessional, he exhibited a form that caused miss which barely cut the tell-tale and the wiseacres to back him heavily for the waterbury took the game by one of his championships; but unfortunately a tele clever volleys which he dropped out of gram from chicago took him out of the shaw's reach. the fourth game was a long tournament before any real test had come. fight, each player going in to serve a num- he has been taught by boakes, the chicago ber of times. “at one point in this game professional, who is considered a clever shaw led by – , but waterbury made a teacher and it is said that his pupil, mr. clever rally and ran aces which gave him mccormick, does not know how to make the game and match. a shot in bad form. milton s. barger is a in the semi-finals whitney met h. d. hard and consistent veteran player and scott who had already put out thorne of always at his best in a match. chicago, in a match which was highly inter- it is necessary to consider these racquets esting to some of those present and water- experts in any discussion of racquets in bury went up against percy haughton. this country. but getting back to the scott, who had only just returned from single championship in boston, the entry south america, was not in very good form, list brought out a strong field in which having only had a week in which to prac- were four former champions, namely, tice. he had done a little practicing in a shaw of boston, whitney and waterbury court at buenos ayres but not enough to of new york, and brooke of philadelphia. get him into shape. scott was the favorite other players were hugh d. scott, austin in the betting, but the old yale oarsman potter and matthew bartlett of boston and played splendid racquets all through and george thorne and paul hamlin of chicago. won out three games to one. it was two all of these tournaments are now played to one in whitney's favor when the last under the bagnell-wilde system of drawing game was started, and scott made a splendid which goes through a weeding-out process effort in the last game to tie his opponent until only a very few survivors are left. for it was set at -all, but whitney's con- the outing magazine dition told and he ran the necessary aces for several years) and- willing spencer and at the end. t. truxton hare of philadelphia. one of haughton beat waterbury three games the philadelphia pairs and a new york to one. the old harvard football player team did not qualify after entering, but the was getting on his game better with every field lacked nothing in quality because of match in the tournament and in this con their withdrawals. the absence of payne test was in great form. he went at his whitney and milton s. barger, who always active and clever adversary with the ut play together, was regretted because they most coolness and never lost his easy style were conceded to be among the strongest or his head for a moment. he used a in the country. clever drop stroke with telling effect and the two teams from boston were con- varied his service splendidly. waterbury sidered equally dangerous; haughton and missed a number of easy kills and haughton shaw being thought by some to be even but once or twice failed to take advantage better than the champions, scott and fear- of this kind of an opportunity. so the ing. the new york pairs did not seem to finals brought together haughton and be as strongly partnered as might have whitney, and the latter being a veteran been, because both mackay and waterbury and former champion was the favorite. were paired with players whose records all through his matches thus far whitney have not been as brilliant as either of these had been winning most of his aces on his two ex-champions. sands who played severe service and his remarkably hard and with waterbury, however, was really the accurate forehand stroke. haughton, how- surprise of the tournament for individual ever, showed great skill and head work in showing, because his specialty is rather keeping the ball to whitney's back hand court tennis than racquets. he was steady and in handling his difficult service. as a rock and heady and aggressive through- the finish of this match was an exact out the matches. reversal of what whitney had accom h. d. scott has now three times been one plished in his match with brooke. whit of the pair to win the championship and is ney won the first two games with seeming now conceded by all of the experts to be the ease and seemed to have the match well in best doubles-player in america. the game hand with a good lead in the third game, of doubles is coming more into favor in this but haughton coolly shifted his hard long country, and rightly so because it is more service to an exceedingly telling short nipinteresting than singles. this fact, how- service and took the last three games, ever, has long been recognized in england. slowly but surely overhauling the new the rallies are longer, the play is faster and yorker. the score of these three games team-work enters as a strong factor. one shows the desperateness of the play. rally in the second game of the final match , - , – . haughton displayed of the tournament between scott and fear- a coolness and headiness throughout the ing and waterbury and sands brought the entire tournament which cannot be too gallery to its feet madly applauding, for it highly praised and his championship was was racquets of the most brilliant and sus- well deserved in every particular. tained order. it is an interesting fact when one looks one of scott's strongest points is his over the list of racquets experts who played knowledge of team-play, which makes him in this tournament, to note how many of a rare partner. he is a hard hitter from them are clever all-around athletes and any position and generally equal to the experts at various games. it only goes to emergency, especially at the most critical show the severe test of the game of rac points. in the final contest when his quets. partner was pretty tired and the games most of the experts who have been in the three to two against them, scott arose to singles tournament in boston came down the occasion and jumped out to the middle to new york later on for the doubles of the court and took nearly everything championship which was played off in the until his partner had rested up a bit. then splendid new courts of the racquet and scott proceeded to play and win out in a tennis club of the latter city. this tour most brilliant manner, for out of points nament was won by hugh d. scott and in the last two games, were made off of george r. fearing, representing the boston his bat. this record was kept by morton racquet and tennis club; the same pair s. paton, the veteran expert. that were champions last year. other fearing, scott's partner, played an able pairs entered were lawrence waterbury and consistent game throughout; his ser- and charles sands of new york; r. k. vice being the best of any player in the cassatt and g. h. brooke of philadelphia; tournament. his great reach enabled him clarence h. mackay and george c. clarke, to make gets in the rallies that seemed jr., of new york, quincy a. shaw, jr., and fairly impossible. when he serves he hits percy haughton of boston. these teams the ball slightly above his shoulder and were considered the strongest. brings it down into the courts with good others entered were Ř. p. and ford length, great speed and a heavy cut. a huntingdon of new york, w. e. bates and record of aces made on service in this barclay h. warburton of philadelphia (the tournament would prove to be in favor of latter player having been out of racquets fearing by quite an easy margin. the racquets season reviewed the most important early match in the three days' play was between shaw and haughton and brooke and cassatt. this was won by the philadelphians, four games to two, after the boston men had won the first two games. the philadelphia con- tingent then had high hopes of their team getting into the finals, but these hopes were blanked when the next day brooke and cassatt were defeated by waterbury and sands. shaw and haughton took the first two games by very fast and accurate play; the scores being - and - . in the third game brooke and cassatt braced up and overwhelmed their opponents by and followed this by another win of — , making the score 'two games all. then they took another game — . in the sixth game shaw and haughton seemed in a fair way to tie the games, having the lead of aces to . brooke and cassatt, how- ever, went together in good team-play and kept pegging away and won out by - . in the semi-final round fearing and scott met mackay and clarke. clarke was runner up in the single championship last year and with mackay as his partner was expected to make a good showing: al- though mackay and clarke had already played a match in the morning against spencer and hare of philadelphia, they made a clever showing against fearing and scott, going especially strong toward the end of the match. the boston pair started out at a terrific pace and took three games straight, - , — and - ; then the new yorkers took the fourth game - , clearly outplaying their opponents, making aces by service. the fifth and last game was won by bos- ton after a very hard struggle, — . in this game each team made aces on service. fearing and scott made aces to their op- ponents' in placing and missed one less stroke than did mackay and clarke. if clarke and mackay could have pulled out this last game the match might very easily have gone on to seven games with the out- come doubtful. waterbury and sands beat brooke and cassatt four games to two. the new yorkers took the first two games, and — , and then the philadelphians won the third game, — , but went down on the fourth, — . they braced, how- ever, in the fifth game which they won, - , making the score two to three against them. the sixth game was a splendid contest and after the score was against brooke and cassatt — , they ran it up to —all, only to fall down at the finish when sands went in and served aces. the final match which brought messrs. scott and fearing of boston against messrs. waterbury and sands of new york, as- sumed somewhat the aspect of an inter city fight, but the betting was two to one on the boston pair. this contest was undoubt- edly the best that has ever been played in championship doubles in this country. each man was keen and throughout the contest played at the top of his game. throughout the whole trying ordeal there was no pause, no breathing spell, no falter- ing. at one time the new york team un- expectedly led by three games to two and the excitement at this point was intense. the team that went down to defeat de- serves the very greatest credit. for the first four games the tide of victory flowed first one way and then the other. water- bury and sands seemed a trifle rattled at the start, losing aces by misses in the first game. the second game, however, went their way, they scoring points by service and winning the fifth by their op- ponents' misses and scoring on_clever placing. the third game went to boston, — , the winners making most of the points by service. as the match went on fewer and fewer points were won by op- ponents' misses and the play settled down into splendid racquets. the fourth game went to waterbury and sands, — , making the score two all. waterbury went into serve at the start of the fifth game and the day seemed brighter for them. when his side took this game at - only making two misses, the gal- lery gave them well-merited applause. with the score three games to two against his side, mr. scott of boston came into evidence and from now on he stayed in evidence, making as has been said aces out of off his own bat; the other points being scored by seven opponents' misses and two kills from the bat of fearing. this tells the story of the finish of this memorable contest. a good standard of sportsmanship was established when the new york com- mittee in charge of the tournament, find- ing that the original drawings were all favor of new york, changed them around at the last moment and practically put their own teams at a disadvantage and espe- cially messrs. mackay and clarke, who, as has been said, had to play two matches in the same day-a great handicap. in the original drawings boston and philadel- phia had to fight it out for the honor of meeting new york in the finals. as the drawings were changed all representatives had an equal chance for the finals. an interesting point came up in regard to the allowing of a "let” ball in the match between scott and fearing and mackay and clarke. the writer was referee at the time and in his several years of experience has never seen a similar point acise. it occurred in this way. clarke, who was serving into the back hand court to fearing, jumped across the middle of the court to handle the latter's return. he hit straight up and down, fearing in the meantime coming up behind him. as fearing re- turned clarke's straight hit, his bat, at the finish of his stroke, hit clarke over the eye and stunned him for a second. owing to the outing magazine this he was unable to try for fearing's next he has not his bat on the ball, however the shot which was an easy one and claimed a let will not be allowed. a point in this let, which was allowed. if fearing had connection which is not sufficiently con- hit clarke at the beginning of his stroke, sidered is that a player is not able always the latter would not have been entitled to to show that his bat is on the ball without ask for a let himself if he had not won the going so far with the stroke that it is im- point. possible to draw back, but referees can do the question of allowing lets in our a great deal toward lessening the danger by american game is rather a serious and diffi establishing the custom of allowing lets cult one, especially in doubles where the wherever there is the slightest reasonable action is very quick and intricate. ameri cause for the same. can players take chances in hitting each speaking generally the class of amateurs other in their keenness to win which i in this country showed considerable im- understand english players refuse to take. provement this year. most of the experts there has never yet been a serious injury, showed ability to do something with the however, in any of our big tournaments, ball besides hitting it hard when it came although there have been a number of nar their way and also increased ability to hit row escapes. professional players never off the side wall, or from any position, with have to ask for a let because they stop confidence. their bat if there is the least possibility of it is a great shame that more of our col- hitting an opponent and that opponent leges and schools do not build racquets and then allows the let without question. tennis courts as they do in england, for amateurs are pretty apt to claim every thereby we would have a greater interest thing in sight in the way of lets, so the in these two splendid indoor games. when question is a pretty difficult one some a man leaves college and goes into business times for a referee to decide. he needs exercise more in the winter than it is generally agreed if a player has at any other time of the year, and an in- his bat on the ball, and if he continued the bred love for a game like racquets or court stroke he would thereby endanger an op tennis would go a long way to help him ponent, that he then may claim a let. if obtain it. a new era in yachting by frank barkley copley "puhe puto put-put!" it is the voice of the gasoline motor. you hear it everywhere now-on sea, bay, river and mountain lake. and even when you don't hear the “put-put," you see great, stately sail yachts gliding swiftly along without a shred of canvas unfurled, and you know the motor must be there. within the short period of three years the sturdy little marine motor has been brought to a state of such really splendid efficiency and re- liability as to enable it to win a notable victory over the average sailorman's prej- udices. the pleasures of the water have been made possible for scores who have been debarred from them by considera- tions of time and expense. in fact, we have reached the dawn of a new era in yachting these statements refer particularly to the use of the motor as a power auxiliary to that of the wind. the exploits of auto or motor boats designed, for racing pur- poses, to attain the sensational speed of twenty-eight or more statute miles an hour have drawii the public's attention to the possibilities of distinctly “power” craft of all descriptions; but the gasoline marine engine has won its greatest victory over prejudice, in connection with its installa- tion on sail yachts. our inventive friends were led to real- ize many years ago that if an auxiliary power could be supplied to help out yachts during periods of stress it would gain for the sport many additional followers; but the problem at first seemed insurmount- able. an engine would have to be devised that would not take up much room, nor add materially to the yacht's displacement. it was strictly necessary that the power should be ready to hand when wanted, and be capable of being quickly shut off when not wanted. it was desirable that the power should not require the services of high-priced attendants. the engine would have to be of the highest economy, as there could be carried only a limited amount of fuel. furthermore, if the cabin space were not to be infringed upon, the fuel it- self would have to contain highly concen- trated energy: these requirements naturally put steam and electricity out of the question. what then? as all the world knows, the answer eventually was gasoline. it was some fif- teen or twenty years ago that the possi- bilities of gasoline engines first became ap- a new era in yachting parent. but there was a good deal of talk greatly indebted to the automobile; it was and shaking of heads when they were first the sudden bound of these machines into installed on sail yachts. to the sailormen widespread popularity that induced in- who thought they could afford to take ventive ingenuity to apply itself diligently chances on being becalmed, the auxiliary to the perfection of gasoline motors of all yacht, thus created, was an outrageous sorts. the racing craze, both on land and profanation of the sentiment of the sea. water, helped the good work along. re- it was scornfully sniffed at as a “hybrid” member this when you feel inclined to con- —something that was neither one thing nor demn speed tests as altogether foolish. the other. there is nothing like a hard, forced run to the implication of course was that the bring out all of an engine's latent defects person who did not care to submit to the and reveal all of its possibilities. caprices of the wind should get a steam a marine engine has developed, there- yacht. to this polite suggestion the ad fore, that is well calculated to meet all the vocates of the auxiliary had two ready objections that have been brought against answers. the first was that, while a steam those of the internal combustion type. its yacht was a very pretty plaything indeed, general principle of operation remains the the pleasure one got out of it was not the same (which is to say that its power is same as that which one got out of a sail created by a series of explosions caused by yacht. the second answer was that, the ignition of a mixture of gas and air leaving aside all considerations of the first compressed into a clearance above the cost of such pretty playthings, one had to piston); but its weight has been materi- come dangerously near being in the million ally reduced by the abandonment of use- aire class to keep even the smallest of them less parts and the substitution of lighter in commission. metals for other parts; and its general effi- the auxiliary was designed, therefore, ciency has been greatly enhanced by a to retain all the advantages of sailing craft more compact and economical arrange- while doing away with all its disadvan ment. the greatest gain, however, has tages. as it was not to be made into the been made in reliability. the engines equivalent of a steamer, but, on the con turned out nowadays approximate pretty trary, was to remain distinctly a sailing closely the ideal state of being "foolproof; craft, able at all times, for economical as that is, they are built so as not to require well as sentimental reasons, to take full ad much intelligence on the part of the ope- vantage of the power it gets gratis when rator. this has been brought about the wind blows, the engines installed were chiefly by having the engine perform auto- of moderate power in proportion to the matically several functions that previously size of the boat. when of their own ef had to be performed by hand. forts they were able to drive the yacht this, then, is the gist of the whole mat- along at the rate of four or five knots an ter: it is now possible, at a cost ranging hour, they were considered very satisfac between a few hundred dollars and a few tory, this speed being about all that could thousand in accordance with the horse- be desired, not only to enable the yacht to power desired, to equip a sail yacht with continue a cruise or make a harbor when a durable, reliable and clean-working little the wind died away, but to permit it to engine that is easily attended to by one man leave its moorings without the aid of a tug. and operated at a small expense. the it was also found that the auxiliary en best that are made consume when running gine added to the safety of the yacht, in under full load only one pint of gasoline that it was of assistance in flying before a an hour for each horse-power developed, storm and obviated all danger of drifting and, when they are slowed down, the con- on to a lee shore. but, in spite of its mani sumption is automatically reduced. as fest advantages, the auxiliary yacht, for the price of a pint of gasoline ranges be- many years after its introduction, made tween a cent and a cent and a half, one can slow progress in winning popular favor. run a yacht equipped with a ten horse- sentiment is a tremendous force to oppose, power engine at top speed at a cost of be- and all innovations have a hard time of it tween ten and fifteen cents an hour. such in this conservative world of ours; but the an engine can drive a fifty-foot cruising trouble was largely due to the fact that the yacht at the rate of a little more than six gasoline marine motor was still in a more statute miles an hour, and enough gasoline or less inchoate state. even the smallest can be safely stored on the yacht to keep were rather heavy and cumbersome, .while the engine going for four hundred miles the larger ones had the additional defect continuously. of excessive vibration. all sizes were in installing an engine, builders show a likely to get out of order when subjected tender consideration for sail-boat senti- to anything save the most expert of hand ment by hiding it away under the lazarette, ling, and the methods of their installation beneath a companionway, behind a par- were occasionally so defective as to cause tition, or in a casing that looks like a piece explosions that led people to be afraid of of furniture. even when it is in operation, them. its presence on board would hardly be sus- but in the last three years or so there pected; for the latter-day high-class ma- has been a great change. for this we are rine motor has little or no vibration, and the outing magazine the "put-put"and the odor are diminished by means of a pipe through which the ex- haust gas, along with the exhaust water, is discharged below the boat's water-line. and so the man on the auxiliary yacht is able not only to retain his cabin, but his nautical conscience is left unvexed by any suggestion of machinery, while, however fickle may be the breeze, he is always cer- tain of making his harbor. so general has become the conviction of the motor's utility and desirability that it is being installed in all kinds of sail- boats from little dories up to the old-time schooner yachts, , and feet long. the only danger from a gasoline engine lies in possible leakage from tank or feed pipe, and it is unfortunate that the best way to guard against this remains an open question among experts. some maintain that the tank should be placed in a bulk- head at the bow, where sea water, admit- ted through holes, can circulate around it, and that the feed pipe should ex- tend to the engine along the keel on the outside. on the other hand, the dictum is laid down that the tank should be as near the engine as possible, so as to have the least possible piping, and that any plan that does not permit the tank and pipe to be accessible at all times is an objection- able one. when the installation is in ac- cordance with this principle, the precaution is taken to place the tank in a false tank or over a tray, so that possible leakage may be collected and conducted overboard through a pipe. the latter plan is the more prevalent one, but the conflict of opinion is such that on some yachts the tank will be found at the bow, on others against the motor, and on still others boxed in on deck. it has been asked whether all danger could not be overcome by substituting kerosene for gasoline. this surely would be a deside- ratum, not only for reasons of safety, but because of the possibility, as well, that the supply of gasoline may not be able to keep pace with the constantly increasing de- mand, and some believe that kerosene will be the ultimate solution of the prob- lem. the trouble is, however, that the very fact which constitutes the greater safety of kerosene, namely, that it will not generate an explosive gas until heated to a high degree, makes it of less value than gasoline for use in an engine. there is, also, the far more important fact that, since its combustion is not complete, it leaves a residuent that is likely to get into the parts and corrode them. no entirely sat- isfactory method of disposing of the waste matter has yet been devised. after all, the danger from gasoline ma- rine engines is more theoretical than actual. have your motive apparatus installed by a man who knows his business, and you need not worry so long as you use com- so satisfactory have been the workings of gasoline, that many owners of sail yachts equipped with motors able to drive four or five miles an hour have taken them out and replaced them by others which could give a speed of eight or even ten miles. the practice is also growing of utilizing motor and wind at the same time. taking it all in all, it is not exaggerat- ing the situation to say that the develop- ment of the gasoline engine has done more to add to the popularity of yachting than anything else within recent years. some sentiment the auxiliary motor may have outraged, but it is in line with the ameri- can spirit—the spirit which looks, first of all, to practical results. mon sense. making the country home how to care for the fruit, vegetable and flower gardens by eben e. rexford for "or fertilizing fruit trees nothing is superior to wood ashes and bone meal. use in the proportion of pounds of the latter to a ton of ashes. this makes a complete, well-balanced fertilizer, cheap, easily prepared, and one of the most effec- tive of all manures for orchard use. scat- ter it liberally about the trees. continue to spray apple trees with bor- deaux mixture, for the scab, and use the mix- ture of bordeaux and paris green advised last month, for maggot and other insects. cease to cut asparagus, and let the tops grow for the remainder of the season. late, persistent cutting will injure the roots permanently. keep all weeds down, the soil open, and apply commercial fer- tilizer freely. if the tops of this plant turn brown, and take on a rusty look, you may know that fungus growth has established itself on it. cut the tops and burn them, as soon as it is discovered. nip off the young blackberry shoots when they are two and a half or three feet tall. allow only three or four to a plant cabbage and cauliflower should be set to grow. making the country home plant in the main vine. spray with bor- deaux mixture if signs of blight are seen. this may be told, on any plant, by the turning brown and curling of the edge of the leaves. summer varieties of radish can be sown now. remember a very rich, quick soil is required to grow this de- lightful vegetable to perfection. main crop. the flower garden your hoe. now, and another lot at the end of the month for a late crop. manure heavily. be on the lookout for worms and insects and bacteria. use paris green for the former, and apply bordeaux mixture if leaf-blight appears. be prompt in the use of fungicides and insecticides, for it is much easier to check a disease in its in- cipiency than when it has become well established. set celery plants now for the put them a foot apart, in rows, and use plenty of manure. spray the currant bushes with paris green, to kill the currant worm. keep on doing this till the fruit sets. hellebore is often advised, but it is not an easy matter to get the fresh, strong powder. if not fresh it is worthless, and you run the risk of losing the entire crop of fruit in experi- menting with it. there is no danger in using paris green if the use of it is not con- tinued after the fruit has reached its full size. a shower will wash it off the plants. none of its poisonous properties are ever absorbed by the fruit or leaves. spray gooseberries with sulphide of potassium-half an ounce to a gallon of water-for mildew. continue the use of bordeaux mixture on grapes. rub off all the new shoots that are not needed for keeping the vines well supplied with fruit-bearing wood. if fruit sets heavily, it is well to thin half of it out. you may not get as many bunches if you do this, but you will get larger, finer fruit in every way, and probably as great a quantity of it. look out for bugs and beetles on melons and cucumbers. a screen of mosquito netting over a frame of stout wire can easily be made, to place over the young vines. as a further precaution against enemies, tobacco dust can be sifted thickly over the plants. be on the watch, also, for the potato bug. use the bordeaux mixture and paris green combined, as ad- vised last month, to kill off blight, rot and bugs. keep the ground well cultivated for squashes. cover the joints of the vines with soil, to counteract the effect of the borer. it may be necessary to use screens over these plants, if the beetle shows an inclination to take up his abode on them. plow up old strawberry beds which have outlived their usefulness, and prepare new set them with the strongest of the young plants from the old stock, or with varieties obtained from the best growers. do not go in for "fancy" sorts, but get such kinds as have established good claims to merit. beds bearing their first crop of berries should have their runners clipped at least once a week, to throw the strength of the plant into itself, and the soil should be kept free from weeds and well cultivated. to secure early tomatoes, train the plants on a trellis and pinch off the side shoots, in order to concentrate the strength of the rose. keep the weeds down here. remember that every weed you allow to grow and form seed will furnish progeny enough to fill the entire garden next season, and hold steadily to the determination that not a weed shall escape your vigilance — and if plants are thick in the beds, thin them out at once. every plant that is not needed there robs the necessary plants of the nutriment that should be concentrated on them. do not throw away the plants that you pull up. some friend or neighbor may be glad to get them. if no one wants them, put them out in a corner by them- selves, and let them furnish a supply of flowers for cutting. lilacs will complete their flowering this month, after which the bushes can be given whatever pruning they need. apply ma- nure freely, to assist their annual growth, which will take place as soon as flowering is over. be on the lookout for the enemies of the you will have to fight for every fine flower. i have given up the use of helle- bore, because it is so unreliable. paris green is likely to burn the foliage if strong, and if weak it fails to accomplish the pur- pose for which it is used. i depend on a homemade remedy which is made by melt- ing half a cake of the ordinary size of ivory soap and mixing it with a teacupful of kero- sene. dilute this mixture with ten gallons of water and apply with a sprayer, being careful to have it get to all parts of the plant. this preparation is far more satis- factory than any of the insecticides for sale by the florists, and will never injure the foliage or flowers. it is a good plan to be- gin the use of it before the various rose enemies put in an appearance, and keep up its use until their season of activity is house plants can be put out-of-doors with entire safety now. the best place for them is on a veranda sheltered from the afternoon sun. leave them in their pots. plan for free circulation of air about them. do not allow any that are to be made use of in the house next winter to bloom during the summer. throw their strength into the production of branches. these should be nipped at the end, from time to time, to force the production of side branches, thus securing a bushy, compact plant, with plenty of flowering points. if not properly trained, most plants adapted to house cul- over. ones. new the outing magazine ture will grow into awkward shapes, but with a little attention at the proper time, they can easily be made symmetrical. the proper time is now, while the plant is in process of development. a correspondent asks why i do not ad. vise turning plants out of their pots, and putting them in the ground in summer. my reason is this: plants treated in that manner will make a great growth of roots, most of which must be sacrificed when the time comes to lift and pot the plants in fall. this leaves the plants in a weak, crippled condition at the very time when they ought to be at their best, in order to stand the trying change of conditions which they have to meet when they are taken indoors. plants kept in pots escape this ordeal. very likely your hollyhocks will begin to look rusty by midsummer. the edges of their leaves will turn brown and crumble away and the whole plant will look as if it thought of dying. "it has the rust,” your neighbors will tell you. but the right name for the trouble is bacteria. bordeaux mix- ture is the only remedy, and the sooner you apply it after you find that your plants are affected, the more chance you stand of getting flowers. if you are going to have beds of "foliage plants,” like the coleus, centaurea, pyre- ihrum, alternanthera and achyranthes, pro- cure them at once. let the soil be mellow and moderately rich—if very rich the growth will be too rank and coarse for beauty-and set the three first-named plants about eight inches apart, the other two about four. provide yourself with some pruning shears, for all plants used in working out designs or patterns will have to be clipped whenever their branches threaten to straggle out of their own premises and into those belonging to an- other color. if this is not done, all clear- ness of outline will be lost sight of, and there will simply be a mass of confused colors. use the hoe and the weeding hook often enough to keep the soil light and porous. this is important. when the sweet peas come into bloom, cut their flowers off as soon as they begin to fade. this prevents them from forming seed, and the plants, in their efforts to perpetuate their kind, will straightway produce more flowers, and keep on doing this as long as interfered with. in this manner, flowers are secured throughout the entire season. but if seed is allowed to form, you will have comparatively few flowers during the latter part of summer. start young plants of boston and other varieties of fern for winter use. give them a rich, turfy, soil, with considerable sand mixed with it. keep them well watered, and out of the sun. get your window boxes ready at once. fill them with a rich soil. fasten them securely in place as they will be heavy when the soil is filled with water and may break loose from an ordinary support. fill them with such plants as geraniums, fuchsias, petunias, nasturtiums, heliotropes and verbenas, to furnish flowers, ferns, ficus, coleus and pyrethrum, for foliage, and vines like moneywort, lysimachia, tradescantia, and glechoma, to droop over the front of the box. if you use a pailful of water on a box of ordinary size, daily, you can grow plants just as well in it as they can be grown in pots. plenty of water is the secret of success in window- box culture. keep your chrysanthemums growing steadily by giving them all the water they can make use of, and applying some good fertilizer at least once a fortnight. how to shoe your horse by f. m. ware roper shoeing of the horse has much touched, since these parts throw off all old to , horn, unless it is worn away by ordinary and this article might appropriately have attrition. the sole can never be too thick, been included in that of last month. as nor the frog too large. the heels must, in originally applied, a shoe was meant simply healthy feet, never be opened, although to protect the horse's foot from excessive occasionally, a foot may prove to be so wear, but latter-day ingenuity corrects strong-growing that it may need easing with it various defects in action. for ordi just in the angles between bars and crust. nary everyday use, the simpler the methods the shoe should be nailed on firmly, with we adopt the better, and the chief ends to not over six nails, and these driven so that be attained are the preserving or restoring while they take a wide hold of the horn, of the natural angle and direction of the they come out for clinching low down on hoof. this is accomplished first by rasping the foot; thus minimizing the chances of (never by cutting) away any surplus pricking the sensitive portions, and also growth of wall, and, as a general rule, enabling the nail-holes to quickly grow lowering it to the level of the sole, which, down and disappear. the nails should be together with the frog, is never under any driven with sundry rather gentle taps, circumstances (in the healthy foot) to be rather than with a few blows, as thus any how to shoe your horse splitting or indirection of the nail-points sunk or they are worse than useless, as the may be readily detected; as the animal elevation of the toe will put too much will flinch before the quick is really touched. strain upon the back tendons. they are the driven nails should not be "drawn" worn on fore as well as hind feet, or on too vigorously in clinching, lest discomfort either, in combination with shoes; they or pain ensue; should be filed gently, that are as effective for riding as for driving; they may clinch easily; and the clinches and the nearly bare foot is as adhesive to themselves hammered smooth, and rasped the all-pervading asphalt as the costly with as little disturbance of the horn as rubber pads. three precautions must be possible, that the beautiful enamel with exercised in their use: first, that the toe is which nature has covered all hoofs may be well shortened and lowered, and the heels uninjured. this covering, which prevents left alone, as attrition will attend to them; a too rapid evaporation of moisture, is second, that the toe is frequently re- customarily ruthlessly mutilated, or almost shortened, as the frog-pressure will cause entirely removed by the rasp of the average the whole foot to grow in extraordinary smith, and in its place thoughtless fashion fashion; third, that, naturally, for the first has decreed that a quantity of greasy and few weeks the horse may, if driven much filthy “dressing” shall be smeared about over gravel, etc., wear a little thin in the the feet, which chokes their pores, and heels, and require rest for a few days, or injures their texture, hurts their appear possibly the application of a full shoe for a ance, and renders them defiling to hands short period—which will not happen once or gloves. no more idiotic fad than this nature arranges for the demand for an obtains in connection with equine manage extra supply of horn. bare feet are equally ment. practical under certain conditions, and for as small and as few nails as will hold the several months each year the average horse shoe for the work intended should be used could go unshod while at work to his gen- -six or seven for ordinary work, eight eral betterment; for not only will his feet perhaps for draught horses. nail as much benefit as well as his legs, in the relation of as possible around the toes, where the horn the joints to each other, but we can ascer- is thickest, and rarely beyond the turn of tain if we will only take the trouble, how the wall, at all events on the inside, thus he wears his hoof. the worn shoe and the insuring freedom to the quarters of the feet. bare foot are pages full of information to shoes left on too long will be drawn to the any one who cares to read. outside quarter, and the bearing thus another advantage of the tip and the shifting on to the inner wall will cause a naked hoof is, that if the animal kicks an- bruise (or corn). the hind feet rarely give other, or any person, the effect is probably trouble, and then chiefly because the inner harmless; while if he steps on your foot, quarters may grow too strongly, and curl results are equally free from damage; nor under. clips should be turned up at toe does he ever caſk himself—in short the and outer quarter, and they should always system's only drawback is that horses so be thin and on the edge of the shoe. not a shod will not step high, nor will tips “bal- tool should be allowed to touch the normal ance" an animal ill-shaped enough to re- foot but the rasp and the hammer. the quire the maintaining of an artificial equi- knife and the buttress are more than useless librium. —from them come nine-tenths of the ills contracted feet always benefit-and the to which equine feet are heir. care of the trouble generally disappears if not too feet should begin at early colthood, but complicated — by using tips. certain this means only a monthly overhauling forms, however, require more gradual frog- with the rasp to level unevenly worn walls, pressure, removing excessive horn, straight- and to shorten and round up the toes. éning out the curled-in quarter or quarters, many malformations and faults in action and the copious application of moisture by can thus be permanently corrected by soaking the feet, by poultices, and by wet gradual methods which, if neglected, must applications about the coronets. mechani- insure early and certain disability. cal spreading of the heels is in general personally the writer believes in, and for favor, but also in not unusual abuse, and thirty years has persistently used, tips should be undertaken only by the com- alternately, in the snows of winter, or the petent veterinary. much torture to the mud of spring or in any sandy locality, with animal has been caused by it. if frog. the feet bare and entirely unprotected. pressure, well-fitting shoes, watchfulness of not all horses can wear tips—those with the quarters and moisture are always ac- very oblique pasterns, with low, fleshy corded the feet, we shall never see a con- heels and thin soles, with navicular disease, tracted hoof. if shod, great freedom must laminitis, etc.; but for the normal foot, or be allowed the quarters when the frog- to those subjects affected by contracted pressure is provided, that they may obtain feet, corns, thrush, quarter-crack (usually) its full benefits. or those who interfere, speedy cut, or over quarter-crack comes usually from a con- reach, they are simply invaluable; and tracted quarter; from too much dryness of they are also most economical. they the horn; from inferior nutrition of the should be as thin and light as possible; horny structure; from unequal leveling of preferably of steel; and invariably counter the wall of the foot which imposes undue the outing magazine stress upon a certain part which concussion and as a buffer if he actually strikes; while causes to give way. one of the chief draw it has other advantages in that the animal backs to the system of cold-fitting shoes is not dependent upon some careless groom (i.e., doing away with the application of the to see that he is protected before work. hot shoe to get a level bearing) was its if a horse persistently “crossfires" he tendency to cause quarter-crack because will be helped by using a very sharply the human eye is not true enough to detect beveled shoe behind, almost triangular- all inequalities. tips will cure most cases, shaped on the inside for two-thirds the but a bar-shoe well "sprung" under the distance to the heel, and with a very long crack, and the horn cut away there, will be outside heel. the shoe on the front foot is surer and enable the horse to work on. as sharply beveled where it is struck, and corns are bruises, usually in the inner the feet in both cases are allowed to set well heel, arising generally from the shoes shift out over the shoes. the so-called “mem- ing or remaining too long without renewing; phis shoe" with double bar across sole will or from a stone or gravel bruise. blood help some horses. makes a red spot on the horn, and, in bad of late years a veritable craze has arisen cases, an ulcer with serious internal com for the growing of long toes on both carriage plications. the bar-shoe again is useful, and saddle horses, and this foolish fashion well sprung off both heels if the horse is to is working much harm to the unfortunate work; or tips in some cases answer well. animals concerned. so many of our native interfering is rare indeed where tips are horses are double-gaited, and inclined to worn. if the horse is shod in full shoes the amble, or to mix their gaits that to insure a clinching should be carefully watched, and free and bold trot with attendant high ac- no nail driven where the offending hoof is tion, long toes both before and behind have struck; the shoe itself fitting very close been found useful and necessary (unfortu- under the wall, and especially at the heel; nately) in certain celebrated cases. igno- even beveled sharply its whole inside rant of the manner in which show horses are length; the inside heel may be cut off kept, forthwith the purchasers of all ani- (three-quarter shoe); or that heel raised mals thus artfully and artificially balanced or lowered a little; inside calks should set by ingenious purveyors, retain the abnor- well to the inside of the web, and the out mal length of the hoof with which they find side heel be rather long, especially if the their purchases provided, and are amazed horse is inclined to slide when he sets down to discover that, in the ordinary work-a- his hind feet. day life of the average carriage horse, these forging or over-reaching depends largely unfortunates quickly and frequently be- upon the natural shape of the animal. is come lame, and do not retain their physical he heaviest before or behind? high- or low condition under ordinary work because the headed? upright, or slanting of shoulder? exertion of locomotion is so vastly more legs disproportionately long long, elastic, fatiguing when the subject is, as it were, or short and upright pasterns? long sweep always traveling uphill. great stress is ing action behind? little hock action, or a thus thrown upon the back tendons, con- good deal? toeing-in (with weak hocks), or cussion is augmented, the joints are thrown toeing-out (with "cow” hocks)? these out of proper relations and especially is are a few of the combinations. every case the evil magnified when, in addition, the is a study-and every case can be cured. animal is used under saddle. if these long first "hang him up right” as to carriage toes are suddenly shortened, the owner is of head, neck, etc.; second, drive or ride, likely to find that he has been harboring a him well in hand; third, find out where he very mixed-gaited horse, or possibly a con- strikes—heel, toe, or quarter?—or "cross firmed and pure-going pacer; but gradual fires" on to the opposite fore-foot. if the diminution of the excessive toe with each heel is struck, bevel it sharply, or cut it succeeding shoeing will probably provoke away (as in a three-quarter shoe); if the no such disheartening relapse. inside of web at toe, cut that away, and even as we may gradually shorten all shift the weight to the heel. very heavy toes to normal length, so may we as cau- hind shoes may help with the weight in the tiously decrease the weight of the shoes toes, and the toes rather long; extreme until a reasonable avoirdupois is attained. cases yield to bar-shoes on the hind feet supposing a horse wears sixteen ounces at with the toes cut off. excellent results purchase; four weeks' wear will greatly come from raising the heels high behind lighten the shoe, and still he will go level, (no toe calks), and “rolling." the front and in form. weigh this worn shoe, and shoes sharply, or even making the toes replace it with one of the same weight, square. which will be quite a bit lighter. nine interferers and “knee-knockers" may times in ten the animal will go as before, be greatly helped by placing between the and thus the shoes may be gradually re- shoe and the foot on the inside a strip of duced in weight to as light a figure as ample leather beginning just beyond the turn of protection warrants. a varying adjust- the wall, and gradually widening to about ment of the weight in such shoe will help an inch at the heel. this is notched like retain the desired balance and action, but saw-teeth, and, while almost unnoticeable, long toes and heavy shoes (save only for acts as a reminder if the horse goes close, an odd show harness-horse or two) have no how to shoe your horse place in modern practical farriery either for park, road, speedway or track. rubber pads are nowadays a necessity in our asphalt streets, and a boon on any pavement, their only drawback being that, if a horse has weak quarters, they will occasionally cause lameness, and that they prevent the free application of moisture to the sole, without which. no foot can long remain perfectly healthy. still they are far better than the old calks which never remained sharp long in city work, and they save both their wearer's limbs from many wounds and stable floors from much chipping, while they also place the horse's feet-and consequently all joints above them-at a restful angle, as they are slight- ly higher at the heels. any horse at liber- ty, given the opportunity, will stand with his feet downhill, so that such posture must be restful to him. there has never seemed any special value in the various stoppings" of oil-meal, wet clay, etc., which are so frequently used. a small, wet sponge confined in the foot by a bit of steel sprung between shoe and hoof on both sides is equally moist, and certainly more cleanly; or the ordinary soaking-tub is thoroughly efficacious. web swabs tied about the coronets are very valuable, and somehow the shod horse must get a chance at plenty of moisture for his feet, especially if the blacksmith is to work his wanton will with the rasp on the external hoof in the effort to turn out a neat job. we prop the poor creature up on shoes; we open his heels, and pare his bars and sole; we bind his feet with nails too near the quarters; we file off that marvellous external varnish which nature provides; we clog the pores with regular applications of grease; we twist him out of balance and true relations in every joint; we violently and occasionally soak his poor toes instead of frequently and slightly moistening the horny surfaces—and then we wonder that all our intelligent care(?)": produces in a few months or years a crippled horse! look at the feet of the average animal passing in the streets, and see how distorted they are, how disfigured his ankles and legs, how altered his gait and natural bearing and yet the s. p. c. a. agents apparently find no occasion for in- terference, and look with supreme indiffer- ence on thousands of cases which are suffer- ing torture that could be corrected, or greatly palliated, in a brief space of time. there exists a crying need in our cities for a cheap pad which may, in time of frost or wet, be quickly fastened into the ordi- nary shoe, so that the animal may get about safely during the few days, or hours, when these conditions obtain. rubber pads are too costly for the average horse owner, and the ordinary shoe if properly set, so that the big and unmutilated frog has a chance to do its work, is sufficient for average con- ditions. a fortune awaits any one who can successfully invent such a pad: cheap, durable, easily put on and off; stout enough in its fastenings to withstand the stress of pulling and of backing vehicles and their loads, something that the peddler, butcher, grocer, etc., may carry in their wagons, and use as occasion arises; not a rich man's convenience, but a poor man's (and his horse's) blessing. through success shall accrue to the lucky inventor many shekels, and countless blessings from the hearts of those who are yearly and daily made indignant and heartsick at the really dread- ful sights everywhere evident along city thoroughfares during any wet or freezing spell of weather. a pad of leather inter- woven with piano wire (or any highly tempered wire) might answer; wire loops going over each heel of the shoe; confined at the toe (this seems the difficult feature) by a similar loop pushed through an aper- ture at toe, on the ground surface between it and the shoe, and confined in some way (as by a wedge) outside the foot in front. this pad should be thick enough to bring its surface well below the foot, that the woven wire may come fully in contact with the pavement, and the fastening contriv- ances of wire would be easily strong enough for ordinary driving, delivery work, etc., and might be made so even for draught horses. a rubber, or even a rope pad might be arranged in the same way, and such an article, in sets of four, should cost only a trifle and last for years through its infrequent use. shoes have been put on the market con- taining rubber, rope and piano wire on the ground surface, and other arrangements of calks, etc., have been patented, but none have proved satisfactory. the "filled" shoes would not retain the "filling”-it would “mash” out; this "filling" also re- quired to contain it a flat upper surface to the shoe (next the horn), and upon heavy horses especially this bearing so bruised the sole that lameness usually followed. another vital defect was that all these shoes had to be "cold-fitted”-i.e., applied as they were, without heating-and neither the average eye, nor the usual patience and intelligence suffices to do this accurately. no shoe can fit just right unless it can be heated, and adjusted exactly to the foot, not (as is far too usual) the foot to it. find any horses worked regularly with cold-fit- ted shoes, and you shall find a rare assort- ment of battered legs as silent protests against attempting the impossible. perhaps we will ultimately work back to the simplest appliances of all-tips—and if so, assuredly satisfaction will augment with further acquaintance. all the best things in life—the most memorable, the most enjoyable, the most practical, the most worthy-are the simple things and if this is obvious in our own affairs, not less exactly may it apply in the treatment of our horses and their feet. how to pack a pack horse by dan beard twyt way in a previous number of this magazine, i duffle for wilderness travel. it is now in- cumbent upon me to tell how to secure the dunnage on a pack animal's back. in the first place the pack animal should be blindfolded. if it is never led nor forced to move while blindfolded it soon learns to stand perfectly still as long as the bandage is over its eyes. we will suppose you have the pack saddle, lash-rope, cinch, aparejo, and all the needful accouterments of a pack ani- mal. the aparejo, by the way, is a leather or canvas bag stretched over a light springy framework of willow and stuffed with straw. it must be stiff at the edges and corners where the pull comes. fig. . shows how packer should stand and support pack with left hand and fore- arm. the heaviest pack can be held securely in this way while the free hand is used for fastening the sling-rope. upper sketch shows the improper method of holding pack on horse. fig. . second packer holds loop a of sling-rope in right hand, holding pack with left arm. (see diagram .) fig. : head packer throws on second side pack over the sling-rope on left side of horse. second packer holds loop a in right hand until the second pack b is in place. fig. . head packer passes one end of sling-rope through loop a, which is thrown to him by second packer. fig. . head packer knots loose end of sling-rope. both packers shake down side packs and are ready for the diamond hitch. how to use the sling- rope when there is no top pack after the sling-ropeis tied fig. . head pack- er throws sling-rope across aparejo with loop on right side. fig. . head pack- er throws first side pack on top of sling- rope and on the right side of horse where it is held in place by second packer. fig. . the head packer says, "break your pack. then each man taking the pack (on his side of the horse) by both ends, pulls down hard with a sawing motion. this takes up all the slack on the sling-rope. as a horse's back is broader near the hind quarters than at the withers the packs should be farther apart at the hind end (as in fig. ) to better fit the horse. a - - how to pack a pack horse 母 ​top pack for side pack fig. hang in this position, with nothing but a small piece touching the horse. as can be seen the boxes in this case have a tendency to act as a lever and press in. this is how to tie your sling-rope when you very bad for the horse's back. have a top pack fig. . to remedy this “break the pack," by lifting the box with your chest fig. ii. head packer, standing on left and pulling the top away from the horse side of animal, throws sling-rope across with your two hands. then the boxes will horse, so that loop a hangs across aparejo, lie flat. and the two loose ends across how to throw sling-rope for horse's neck, on left side. mountain pack saddle fig. . head packer throws side or top pack first side pack on horse on right side where second packer holds it fig. . mountain pack saddle in place (see diagram ). second -sling rope way over. packer then throws bight of sling- fig. . packer takes a turn rope over side pack. head withºloose ends of sling-rope packer throws loop of sling-rope around horns. to second packer who holds it in figs. and . packer puts right hand. right side pack on inside of loop head packer throws on left and takes up slack, pulling one end of side pack-over sling-rope. sling-rope. fig. . head packer passes one loose fig. . packer puts on left pack, and end of sling-rope over left side pack and ties sling-rope, and you are ready for dia- through loop of sling-rope mond hitch. which is tossed to him by but before throwing the second packer. diamond, cover load neatly fig. . head packer with the piece of canvas, passes second end of sling- which is made for that rope, over left side pack purpose. this is not and knots it to first loose fastened in any manner end. packers then shake before throwing the hitch, down packs (see figs. , because the diamond will and ). hold it and everything fig. . head packer else securely in place. throws on top pack, which how to throw north fits in hollow between side rocky mountain diamond packs, and now you are ready for the diamond first blindfold horse. hitch. of course the top head packer stands on pack will settle down on left side of horse, second the horse's back, but the better to show packer stands on right side. head packer position of ropes the middle pack is not throws cinch under horse to second shown on horse's back in diagram. packer (fig. ), and throws loose end of when the pack is composed of rope on the ground to second packer. boxes they often jam the sling-ropes and second packer takes cinch and loose ends all rights researl sy dan olard pack you fig. . . de servi the outing magazine tre o f in his left hand, head packer throws loop while head packer holds down pack he cd (fig. ) to second packer, making slips loose end f under c (fig. . dia- twist x. second packer hooks loop cĎ gram made with loose loops so as to be (fig. ) into cinch hook and passes the better understood). while second packer loose end f under d (fig. ). both pulls bight g under aparejo and pulls from packers cinch; second packer pulls up on the head of the horse, head packer takes rope, head packer takes in slack on e loose end f and pulls in the slack (fig. ). (fig. ) head packer makes loose end f fast with head packer passes loop e under aparejo hitch to rope d (fig. ). while head and second packer pulls loose end f toward packer is making fast, second packer winds rear of the horse, taking in slack (fig. ). halter rope around horse's neck behind left while second packer pulls the bight g, he ear and in front of right ear (fig. ), mak- throws loose end f over horse on the top ing end fast by weaving under halter and of pack to head packer who passes it under over rope (fig. ), then pulling the loose c (fig. ). when a packer is cinching, end under bight where rope crosses halter. packer on opposite side should hold down fig: shows useful type of halter for pack- his side of pack to prevent shifting of load. train work. rod and gun live bait for bass regularly with a line of no. plaited raw silk, about fifty yards in length. use the and pike sproat hooks, numbers , and , tied on good strong gut snells, or a gimp snell may by louis rhead be used should pike or pickerel take the line. in casting with minnows the reel should 'he all-round angler usually likes to re be underneath the rod, not on top. in that : way the rod can be held more steadily, and then for change he courts larger game and is better balanced, and more accurate cast- rougher methods. bass and pike are alike ing is done. in being savage water tyrants, and both are to attempt to describe the art of minnow often found in the same water, the former casting would require a chapter to itself, choosing a rocky bottom, the latter lying and i doubt if the novice would be able to near weeds, grasses and lily pads; although gain any advantage from written instruc- at times they may both be found in op tions. the only way to begin is to cast in posite sections of a lake or pond, so that some quiet spot and throw the line with the the bait used is suitable for both. object of placing it in a given spot on the the best live bait may safely be placed water as lightly as possible. after some in the order named-minnows, helgramite, practice the angler begins to gain command crawfish, frogs, lampreys, grasshoppers and over both rod and line. it requires much at times the big nightwalker worms. the practice to get over kinking the line, or methods used, both in casting and trolling, getting it entangled; but like most things vary somewhat, and in an article as con that require skill and practice it is best to tracted as this must be, only the most begin in a small way by making short casts, salient features can be given, though enough taking longer ones as experience is gained. perhaps to start the young angler on the a perfect cast is one that lets the bait drop high road to success in landing fish. lightly, sliding on the surface as it were, the term “minnow" means any small not with a violent splash that kills the fish used for bait, the young of larger fish, minnow by the force with which it strikes or adult small ones. young chubs, shiners, the water. after each cast the line suckers, even yellow perch (their dorsal slackens. it should be slowly reeled in fins clipped) will often be attractive. all until the entire line is retrieved. make are welcome to the ever-ready maw of pike frequent casts and give a rapid swimming or bass. a three-quarter pound bass will motion to the bait. take a good-sized minnow just as readily as when the fish takes the bait with a jerk, a small one, although usually large bass go hook him quickly. if he just plays with for large minnows. . the most important it take your time for most likely he has the thing is to have him always lively and minnow crosswise in his mouth, so that it is kicking, as well as properly hooked. an well to let him run a distance with it till he glers are most negligent in this respect. pulls steadily. then hook him by a quick the shiner is an excellent bait because he turn with the wrist. if he is well hooked is white and silvery, though not nearly so he will at once break water. keep a firm tough in the mouth as a chub, who lives hold, and give no slack line. if the break longer and therefore is lively for a longer is on a short line, raise the rod to keep the time. line above him, then lower it again as he to bait a minnow properly, hook him falls. be very careful to keep him from through the lower lip and out through the running into weeds or snags, stumps or nostrils. for larger minnows, hook through rocks, and play him till he is thoroughly both lips—the lower one first. they will tired. be calm. don't bungle or dash live much longer if hooked properly and the net at him but place it well below him will be taken quicker. and with a quick upward stroke land him next to the fly, minnow casting is the safely in the boat or on shore, and be sure hardest to learn and takes the longest time to kill him right away or he may jump out to attain perfection in. the two methods again. are quite different—the fly rod being long both bass and pike will take a minnow and pliable, the bait rod short and stiff. at any time in lake or stream. it is the the fy line is much heavier so that it most alluring bait that can be used, when forces the fly forward, while the bait and alive and moving naturally in the water. sinker give the necessary force in casting the late william c. harris always claimed the minnow. the fly is cast over the head it to be the most killing bait of all, alive or and in front of the angler, while the minnow dead, if hooked properly. if allowed to is cast to one side or the other by under float down a runway in swift water, it is hand casting, with a six-ounce, eight-foot sure to be taken by bass, pike or trout. rod. the bait casting reel should be of the i should place the helgramite next in very best make, because great importance order to the minnow in effectiveness and lies in its running perfectly smooth and popularity. they are found on the riffles the outing magazine of streams under rocks and flat stones, and if these are turned over the helgramites will roll up and float and be easily captured. they are a curious, flattened and repulsive looking worm, with six legs that hold tight to rocks and bowlders. their pincers are strong and powerful and hold tight to any object, so that it is well to not give them time to secure a hold. hook them from behind forward by inserting the point of the hook under the cap that covers the neck, bringing through to the head. they are especially good for casting in shallow water of lakes, or rapid running water of streams. precisely the same method and tackle should be used in casting as are used with the minnow. the crawfish is another bait that hides and clings fast to rocks or any hole he can get into. he is a constant care and trou- ble. his movements are so rapid that in an instant he is under a stone, and the only way to get him out is to wait till he moves of his own accord or a bass gets an eye on him. i make a point of giving a sudden jerk backwards a few inches every second or two when fishing a rocky bottom with a crawfish. this should, however, be done gently to imitate the natural movement of the bait, for bass are so easily scared that often they retreat a short distance and wait till the angler is almost out of patience. when he does grab it take your time, until you feel sure that the bait is well placed; then strike the barb home. don't half do it; give a quick, sudden twist, not a yank or pull. to hook a crawfish properly the point should go through the middle of the tail, from the under side. if done neatly he will stay alive longer than any other live bait. young frogs are more readily taken by pike than by bass, though a bass by no means ignores a small-sized green frog if it can be persuaded to swim slowly along the surface of the water. the great difficulty in frog casting is that it soon gets limp and turns on its back; especially if the angler in casting slaps it hard on the surface. try to just plop it gently, with about the same force it would naturally use in jumping into the water. then let it swim around or float awhile on top. if the fish sees the frog it will make a savage dash and then go down, while the force hooks the fish. frogs should be hooked by the lips-in- serted from the under side. when still- fishing, keep the frog continually on the move, or like the crawfish, it will crawl under stones and fasten itself so securely that no pulling will get it out. i have used frogs with especially good results in swift runways, just letting them float down and into the eddies—very often to some kind of a quarry. fish always lie where the current takes the bait, and most good anglers pay especial attention to the natural movements of the creatures the fish feed on. grasshoppers can be used with telling effect in the fall. when they are plentiful thousands of them jump into the water and are gobbled up. the flying species has a large plump body which makes a very attractive bait. if hooked carefully on the upper part of the body it will live and float on the surface for some time. its struggles to free itself attract the attention of the fish. the young lamprey is a small, wriggling wormlike creature, and is used mostly in rivers where it breeds. they are found by digging up the muddy sand at the river- side. when hooked they are very tough and lively and make every effort to get free and back to their mud bottom. most anglers native to the delaware and lower beaverkill consider the lampreys the best kind of live bait, though personally i have found them a great nuisance and much given to getting stuck fast. though very lively at first, they soon die, turning from a brown to a bluish-purple color. at such times they are poor bait. the secret of success is to have the bait alive, and acting in the water as naturally as it does when free—also to place it a good distance from the angler; this would apply to all methods in fishing with live bait, be it casting, skittering or trolling. it is a rare thing to see an angler who is a perfect or even a good caster. distance, however great, while important, is not the only quality required. one can never repeat it too often that a light, delicate plop on the water means a great deal, as the fish will stay and go for the bait, instead of being scared away, which means half an hour's impatient wait- ing till they return and rise. so many readers of this magazine wrote to me personally, asking for information as to the best place to go for trout, that i here give a number of places to go for bass and pike—both being often found in the same water: some of the best fishing i have enjoyed is in the st. lawrence, with headquarters at clayton, n. y.; also good bass fishing at belgrade lakes, maine. at much less cost and nearer new york there are many good lakes and rivers, foremost being the delaware round about east branch, to hancock, fish's eddy, cook's falls, from the latter place fishing up stream five miles, and also down stream ten miles where the river (beaverkill) joins the delaware. this section is in new york state, miles from the city. the late william c. harris for many years fished a stretch of three miles of the schuylkill river from rogers ford to yankee dam-about thirty miles from philadelphia. greenwood lake in new jersey yields a good catch of bass and wall-eyed pike. on long island is an- other good place, lake ronkonkoma, which provides excellent sport for bass and pike with an occa- sional brown trout. nearly every large pond and lake contains bass or pike, often both, all over the highlands of the catskills and adirondacks. many of the railroads now pub- lish booklets giving a list of places, and the angler has but to choose those he fancies most likely to suit. jv ly drawing for general henry lee by stanley m. arthurs “lee on a tour of inspection through his camp in south carolina.' the outing magazine vol. xlviii number july, ’long cowallis crick by holman day photographs by h. m. albaugh w e have been meeting the todd length. the taut line “slished" the water trio quite regularly along cowal to right and to left. the end of the pole lis crick since the spring term of again sagged to kiss the troubled stream. district school closed. “play him! play him, you blunderation they're jeduthan sproat todd's chil little fool!” roared the judge. the youth dren. a strong name, that, but jeduthan hooked his chin over his shoulder for an in- has gone stronger. stant, peered at the judge from the solemn a fashion of statuesque terminology shade of his cabbage-leaf hat brim and set seems to cling to the various generations his clutch anew on his pole. in the todd family. we discovered this, “play your grawnmaw," he retorted, the judge and i, the first time we came with that assurance that the pride of pos- across the todd trio. we found them session gives to the weakest and tamest of cozily convened at "straddle-root pool,” then he set his teeth, braced his feet enjoying the nine legal points of possession. against old “straddle-root,” and pop! the they reaped the advantages of that de fish came out with a sort of a beer-bottle lectable and reliable nook where we had cork effect. his glistening body went up craftily sprinkled chopped liver for our and over through the zipping leaves, and june “tole." he fell afar off on the sward. that instant as we came over the knoll, and just as the captor was upon him, plunging on the judge began to growl a sort of coffee- hands and knees. scooping grass and mill growl in his beard, the rugged and rus dried leaves, he clutched him and brought tic end of the longest pole ducked "splash!” him to us, the burnished body writhing, into the water. the youth “derricked.” his spots glowing. the limber ash buckled along its knotted "i ain't here to play. i'm here to fish,” copyrighted, , by the outing publishing company. all rights reserved. us. the three todds, in light marching order, en route for straddle-root pool." "we found them cozily convened at 'straddle-root pool,' enjoying the nine legal points of possession." the outing magazine explained the boy a bit humbly, for he been there was none of 'em ever raised thought that the judge's scowl was rebuke brustles instead of a beard." for his pertness. such spirit of submissiveness indicated the judge pinched on his eyeglasses and that the todd trio were ready to acknowl- took the trout. both of us at the same edge with rural courtesy the inalienable time saw the frayed end of a leader hanging rights of “sojourners.” when "sojourn- from a corner of the gasping mouth. i ers” discern that trait in a flourishing con- held the jaws apart and the judge deftly dition they, on their part, ought to go more picked out the fly. it was a babcock, yel than half way. witness the city lion and low and black. the bucolic lamb lying down together all “that's the last fly he took from me,” over our broad land o' summer times! said the judge. “i wonder what he has why, in our case it has arrived at the done with the others he has snagged off point where we have had a mess of horn- against that root? there's only one like pouts fried in “mother's way” at the todd him in this crick. i'm sure of that. i've homestead. played him a half dozen times this season.” the judge still refuses to catch horn- the boy was looping on another worm. pouts. therefore, the todds gallantly "father says," he imparted, surrender to him the swift water, the deep pools where the swirls make under the “ 'fools go fubbin' their time in fun; dark shadows, and all the known lurking but a wise chap plays when his work is done.' places of the trout. i have little inclina- tion for wet feet and wadings on slippery “who is your father?" inquired the rocks, and with a temper that becomes ab- judge with a grimness that suggested he solutely shameless when a leader snarls might be going to look up that impertinent about a tree limb, still prefer to consort phrasemaker. with the todds on the banks beside the “jeduthan sproat todd. i'm voltaire still waters and respond to plain, old- marengo todd. my biggest sister here is fashioned "twiggings," with prompt and elzara oral todd. this other one is lz effective derrickings by a stiff pole. annah omenia todd. father and mother and thus i have time and opportunity and the other three boys are down the for favorable and amicable consortings with crick, and with meat vittle prices up where the ilk of the todds. would that all “so- they be now, fishin'is bus'ness with us." journers” might win over the natural aloof- he paused to take a hornpout off the ness of the native fishermen, as the judge smallest girl's hook, cautiously setting the and i have done since we broke the ice defensive spines between his fingers. with the todd trio. it is something to have “if you want that trout for a quarter broken into the exclusiveness of cowallis you can have him," said the brisk young crick, and we are grateful. it was only business head of this detachment of the yesterday that jeduthan sproat todd sent todd family. “trouts don't eat as well along lurchin trundy todd, number four at our house as pouts—the way mother in the family stepladder, to climb trees cooks pouts. we skin 'em, roll 'em in and bring down the judge's leader. plenty o’ salt and meal, pan-fry 'em with it was on the same day that velzora al- good pig pork and you can lift out the wilda todd, aged five, gave me bashfully, whole back bone to once. they're juicier and yet with pride her special nomencla- than trouts. there ain't northin' suits us ture of the months of the year as follows: better unless it's eels. now you take an “jenny mary, fubiderry, mush, sep- eel tober, ockjuber, fourth o’ july, st. pad- “no, i don't take an eel, not if i know rick's day and christmas." it in time,” replied the judge. he set his all nature smiled with a little extra rod case against a tree, sat down on the breadth-and what's the fun in fishing crick bank and lighted a cigar. when nature isn't smiling? "if this is where you fish regular," said were it not for jeduthan todd's pro- the boy a bit wistfully, "me and my little found craft and his magnanimity, “old sisters will go away. father says that sockdolager" would still be finning the whatever the todds have been and ain't gloomy depths of big rock pot-hole and . "father and mother and the other three boys are down the crick." it's easier work fishin' than doin' chores. photograph by j, h. tarbell. ’long cowallis crick “i still chuckling in his gills. you ought to hear fish like you'd go after the cows. ain't the judge tell about that. but it takes you fished that pool day in and day out? him too long did you ever see granther before? no, you never did. he hears footsteps like he “there are people in the city who are at their tasks to-day, had his own telephone line. he sees folks who are living all unconscious of the doom that stand on the rock or the bank, like he that points their way. was fitted up with a telescope. it needs alack, the ear drums battered in, the senses figgerin' to git him. i've been figgerin' a battered out! good many years." the judge is coming back to tell the story of that trout!" “you've known that fish is there and haven't tried to catch him?” demanded “that one the boy caught with your fly the judge. hangin' to his chops was a fair fish-a “oh, i'm patient about fishin',” smiled mighty fair fish,” said jeduthan. “he's jeduthan, stringing on a fresh worm. fit to be called uncle trout. but the one ain't ever suffered for fish yet. if he'd that's in big rock pool is granther trout, been the last one in the crick i'd have and you can take my word for it. but he prob’ly thunk harder and got after him. knows more ’n a philadelphy lawyer. do i'm willin' you should ketch him and you've you want to see him?" got more time to put into it than i have. “yes,” said the judge, not displaying i have been thinkin'. i think i have got great interest. it thunk. you go git some short fence “then," directed jeduthan, his eyes rails and cob-pile a raft together-not on his bob, for jeduthan takes no chances more'n ten foot square.” when he is fishing, “you go scuff in the when the rails were piled together je- grass and catch the biggest hoppergrass you duthan gave it his nodded approval. can." “now take my big knife,” he said, “and the judge brought a gray one, pinching cut a big heap of sweet fern bushes and him by his wings--one of the sort that fly young birch tops and t'other green stuff, with a queer grating noise and that the and heap 'em onto that raft." boys call “quackers.” the judge toiled in the sun, perspiration “hitch your smallest split shot to him streaming, and jeduthan watched him with with a thread,” said jeduthan, yanking bland compassion. . vigorously to set his hook in a candidate, “i'm glad to tell him," he vouchsafed and failing to me. “i'd like to see it tried and i don't “now go down around the bend to big reckon i'd ever have the gimp to do it my- rock pool. keep away from the bank so self. accordin' to my notion there ain't that your shadder won't fall on the water, much fun in the kind of fishin' where you and throw grasshopper, grasshopper gray, can't set down and let 'em come to you. gimme some 'lasses to-day, jest as fur us that live on cowallis crick ain't goin' to’ards the middle of that pool as you can." hungry for fish, be we? city folks come i didn't go along, for it was too comfort here and run up and down the bank like able, lolling in the sun beside jeduthan. they was on foot races. it makes us reg'lar the judge came running. fishermen tired to watch 'em-and we don't “give me my rod-give me my rod,” he come here to be made tired.” gasped, as passionately as though some i got further light on the generally in- one were willfully keeping it from him. tolerant spirit displayed toward “sojourn- "he's-he's the gimme my pole, i say !" ers.” “did you see him, jedge?” asked jedu “now, jedge,” he continued when the than, exploring a pout's cavernous mouth raft had been heaped, “you nustle down with his thumb after a swallowed hook. into that browse and let your friend here “see him! that quacker spacked down push you off. bait with another quack- on the water with his wings spread and he let about fifteen feet of line trail jest floated a second, and then up rolled the careless like. don't move. don't go to biggest-say, gimme my rod!” slashin' and whippin'. as i figger it gran- 'a minit, a minit, now," advised jedu ther will cock his eye up at that brush than soothingly. "you can't go at that heap when it floats into the pool and he'll er. the outing magazine on. wonder. then he'll see that it ain't carried "sockdolager" dangling from two nothin' but brush and he'll fin along into fingers poked into his gills. the shade of it-it bein' middlin' hot to the three wise men were down at pond day. then he'll see another of them lily eddy, “skipping” for pickerel. two quackers like what he had just now, flo'tin’ of 'em were skipping and the third was along,--and the other tasted good and keeping them supplied with bullfrogs' hind didn't have no prickers in it, and so—well , legs. they're great skip-bait, frogs' legs go 'long and see what will happen.” are! the cowallis crick pickerel, pam- i saw it from afar, for the judge would pered in the matter of taste, poise finning have committed justifiable homicide if by under lily-pads and scowl at strips of sun- jarring footsteps or wavering shadowſ fish and chubs, goggle resentfully at pork had interfered. rinds, but just stick your hook through the i had long to wait, for the raft moved thick part of a frog's hind leg and describe across the pool with the dignified sluggish an arc on the rippling surface! there's ness of a glacier. but at last there was a a dark-green swerve, the flirt of a tail, the swirl, a flash, a gobble—and the fight was heart-hopping strike of the pickerel and still another testimonial to the esculent at the first buzz of the reel the judicial qualities of frogs' legs. dryad emerged from his leafy covert with “it's all in bait on this crick," said one a whoop, the raft scattered and out of the of the wise men, casting a critical eye on flotsam the judge came beating and spout the judge's catch. “what did the todd ing his way. boy use to catch him with?” it was as fair a contest as i ever saw. he interrupted the judge's indignant re- 'twas an open question whether the judge monstrance. would get the trout or the trout get the “you bought t'other big one off'n him, judge. the judge won. i have small didn't you?” memory for fishing details, but—the judge then followed the first rehearsal of a won! after he had floundered two rods to great story. it did not interrupt the a footing he stood with water to his waist “skipping,” but it interested, none the and fought it out. when at last i came to less. him where he was weakly recumbent on "it's the right bait that does it,” said the crick's bank he was mumbling strange one at last. “did you ever hear rhymer words in his dripping beard and kissing tuttle's song about it? he used to fish the glossy sides of "sockdolager." it was here on the crick. as acute a case of delirium piscator as i ever "i ain't no gre't singer,” he confided at witnessed. the judge has had a snapshot last in reply to pressing invitations. but taken by a local amateur in which he and i can remember the words of it. i'll sing his rod are lilliputian, and the fish, held it to the tune the old cow died on.” he well in front of him, is brobdingnagian. wiped the back of his hand across his and he adds new foot-notes and appendices mouth: every time he relates the story. it is al- "'fol di rol, ready a two-evening serial. "twill be a oh, rol di fol ! busy fall and winter for the judge's friends! pick right bait for to make your haul. jeduthan pinched his bamboo pole be- old ez joe skenks he used to say that a cent for bait would ketch ben gray. tween his knees, slowly gnawed off the old nick some day, so i ser-pose, corner of a black plug while he surveyed he'll jiggle a cent front o' old ben's nose. the trout sideways and remarked: and as soon's old ben he gits a smell “he'll go best baked and stuffed and he'll bite and be yerked plum straight to fol di rol, with egg sass." oh, rol di fol ! we came across the three wise men of it takes right bait for to make a haul.'' gilead on our way back to the tavern. the tavern is in gilead, you know. now that is crude, but there is a point of there is a short cut to the tavern from moral philosophy in it that-but we'll let big rock pool, but the judge wouldn't it drop. i have heard folks say that it is go that way. he insisted on making a that kind of talk that spoils ike walton's triumphal tour of the crick's bank. he book for them. "it suits our taste better along cowallis crick." the outing magazine the judge and i have been down to by the hotel people and the angler is ex- bucket pond once. cowallis crick flows pected to allow his guide to immediately into that pond. it isn't far, but we shall put back into the water each fish that is not go again. there's a summer hotel on caught. it doesn't harm the iron-mouthed the shore. the men “sojourners” wear bass. some of them whose marks are dis- knee panties and slouch hats with flies tinguishable, such as a brindled back or a hooked around the hat-bands, and they white fin or a nicked tail, have been named, chalk up their day's fish scores on a black and “frederick” or “adolphus” or “ly- board in the hotel office, and then stand curgus" are affectionately greeted when around the board and discuss the matter they come over the boat side. all the evening. we shall not go down to that aquarium and the funny part of it is, they have no again this summer. it suits our taste fish to show. better along cowallis crick, now that we the pond has been stocked with black have broken into native society by the bass, bristly, spiny, piratical, voracious aid of the todd trio. chaps that have driven out everything else there's something honest about really except some hard-jawed, lean old racers of and truly country fishing. there are no pickerel. fish hogs, whose only aim is a record catch. the men in knee panties go out each day the “mess” is the standard in the coun- in boats with a native guide to row them try. and provided the “mess” is coming around. they cast for the bass and often along all right there is time for contempla- get two and sometimes three strikes at a tive discourse along the banks of the crick, cast. more than that, they get excited. and opportunity for the gathering of much it is a peculiar fact that every native guide that is wise and diverting and profitable. at bucket pond has from one to a dozen as jeduthan sproat todd was relating nicks in his ears. that's where the swirl the other day—but without the drowsy ling, slashing flies of delirious bass fisher hush of the summer noon, the shimmer men have caught and held. i believe the of heat against the blue hills, the golden current guerdon for hooking an ear is one dance of the light flecks through the leaves, dollar, but some fishers are more generous the couch of sward and pillow of sweet or more conscience-smitten. fern; without the distant tinkle of scythe angle-worms are a cent each and small to make us rejoice in our own laziness, the frogs five cents each and are as staple as chuckle of water about the mossy stones, currency. all to serve as frame and accompaniment and out of it all the fishermen have no of that story, what is the use of trying to fish to show. the pond has been stocked report jeduthan sproat tedd? homeward bound." the white wings of the great lakes by wilbur bassett he stanch and possible in a community which has emerged able schooness of from the strenuous days of its struggle the great lakes, with the swamp and the forest, into the the “hookers” golden age of boulevards and parks and t of the past gen- country clubs. out of the caves and dun- eration, are fast geons of great cities the yachtsman emerges retiring before the into the pure air that blows over the lakes, advance of steel and sails away, care-free and clean of lung, and steam. in into a life beyond the reach of buyers the prosperous and sellers, of telephones and messengers, harbors whose youth they succored and of appointments and engagements, into a defended they lie now disgraced as hulks world of health and freedom. you will and barges, or sink into the nirvana of find him feasting on canned beans and shifting sands. smoked herring in the fair stretches of the yet sail is not gone from the lakes, for north channel, reckless of the price of from the blackened ruins of that once great wheat and the fluctuations of industrials. fleet have sprung myriad graceful forms you may visit him in lonely harbors in the of pleasure craft. there are stately schoon uncharted areas of georgian bay, and you ers with towering spars and decks immacu will find him lost to the world of landsmen late; sturdy, comfortable yawls ready for and of shore conventions, following the call distant cruises; powerful racing sloops, of the red gods “to the camps of proved lean and swift; and all the flitting race desire and known delight." abouts and dories that hover at the harbor they are hearty good fellows, these mouths. yachtsmen of the sweet waters, for the in all the great cities of the lakes, and sailor is the same the world over. wheth- in scores of summer settlements, groups of er you meet him on the tea wharf or on men who love the water have banded to front street, in oahu or singapore or gether to form yacht clubs and to build mackinac, you find him a whole-souled sail-boats for cruising and for racing. and man, prompt to greet you as a brother in all of this movement is comparatively new, the greatest of families, full of the praises for it is but yesterday that any leisure class of his own ship and his own waters, ultra- began to be in the great outposts of the masculine in his moods, hospitable, remi- northwest, and even now the yachtsman niscent, and fond of technical detail. he who can leave his terra firma of business will care little for your worldly wealth or and sail away on distant cruises is looked shore attainments, your cut-glass or ma- upon as an idler. yet every sailor know's hogany, but will search to the last detail that to the mastery of his craft he must for virtues or faults in your rigging and bring years of study and practice and that hull and spars. no magnificence of inlaid loving care which makes sailing a fine art. woods or polished brass will avail you if it is no game for a summer half-holiday, you are lacking in the theory and practice to be taken up at will and as lightly cast of the game in all its manifold details. aside. salt-water sailors affect to look down so it is that sailing for pleasure is only upon fresh-water sailors, and class them copyright photograph by detroit publishing co. running before the wind. copyright photograph by detroit publishing co. a close finish on the detroit river. photograph by r. h. hall. lipton cup racers la rita, sprite and yo san— -foot class. with the boatman of the rivers and inland lakes. they will tell you that it is no trick to sail along the shore from light to light. he who has roared around the world in a skysail clipper or pressed on canvas across the western ocean in some splendid cruis- ing yacht, may well disdain to acknowledge kinship to the schooner man from grand haven or the yachtsman from detroit or duluth, and yet no man who really knows the great lakes in their sterner moods will ever scorn them or underrate the men who can find livelihood or sport in daring their majestic wrath. no north atlantic gale can be more terrible than the autumn storms which rage across these waters, toss- copyright photograph by detroit publishing co. the milwaukee yacht club boat-house. - - - photograph liy r. ii. hul. one-designers of the saddle and cycle club. ing powerful steamers ashore like dories, and the tremendous and unwieldy freight- swallowing piers and docks, and sweeping er always dangerously near eternal vigi- away leagues of shore. the seas are not lance is the price of safety in these crowded those of the north atlantic or the horn, seas, and he who has not the nerve to claw to be sure, mountainous and irresistible, off a lee shore in a gale or slip and run from but they are fast traveling and short with some poor harbor with only his anchor cross seas that are extremely dangerous. watch, is not fit company for these adven- there is the lee shore always imminent, turers of the great lakes. the courses copyright photograph by detroit publishing co. the detroit yacht club, belle isle. photograph by detroit publishing co. the priscilla. photograph by detroit publishing co. a part of the fleet at anchor. the white wings of the great lakes laid out for racing are in the open lake owner and master of an able and comfort- where the racers have no escape from sea able cruiser. he will tell you there is and wind, and cannot, like their brothers nothing beyond. of the coasts, trust to the shelter of bays about the first day of may the ways are or estuaries. once beyond the harbor greased, and the ship railways equipped mouth there is nothing to do but take the for the launching of the fleet. all of the full force of wind and wave. and yet in lighter craft and such of the heavier ones spite of the size of many of the boats and as need rest or repairs are out of the water the frequency of summer storms it seldom during the winter and housed under canvas happens that a race is abandoned. that and boards to await the coming of spring. the love of the sea is strong in the west then with sides freshly painted, and bilges is testified to by the rolls of the navy. dry and clean, they slide into the water admiral evans is quoted as saying, "the and are ready for spars and rigging. this bulk of our new enlistments come from work is all finished by the middle or end the central west, wherever that is.” the of may and the season has fairly begun. doughty sea dog is an lowan himself, but the wide porches of hospitable club perhaps he has been so long at sea he has houses are thronged with men eager to see forgotten where the central west is. the new boats and greet the old, every one the yachting months on the lakes are anxious to know whether the old betty has june, july, august, september and early really been replanked, and how able the october. may is likely to be raw and un ex-commodore's new schooner is likely to settled, and late october is usually stormy. be. they are closely tied together by an july and august are the favorite months, absorbing common interest, and by that when the waters are warm and pleasant intimacy born of the close quarters of the weather the rule. but though the sailing game. there are a thousand camps and months are long delayed, the activities of schools among them, founded upon in- the game begin with ever-renewed enthu- spired formulas and types of boats; but siasm at the first sign of spring. plans beyond a deep pity for each other's ignor- which have been worked out during the ance and a joint hostility toward all regatta winter are unfolded, calking hammers and committees, these smouldering embers sel- paint scrapers resound, dockyards and dom break into flame. these very differ- shops are visited, sailmakers and riggers ences and the enthusiasm with which they are set to work, and the delights of the are maintained are an index of the genu- fitting-out season are at hand. shadow ineness of the spirit in which the sport your sailor, lawyer or broker or banker develops. formulas, designs, scantling re- these spring afternoons and you may dis- strictions, racing rules, and types of boats cover him, flat on his back in the mud, are searched by the white heat of criticism, scraping the garboard strake of some big torn apart by committees and technical yawl or racing sloop, his face plastered journals, and pass into history as living with paint and dirt, his back aching and things. his breath short, but his eyes intent upon there is a sense of perspective and of every detail of his cherished ship. no- historic development always present in the body can do this work just right but him- mind of your true yachtsman. every sail- self, and nobody is quite so anxious as he ing event has its relation to the growth of to know every inch of that under body the game, every ship a true position in the upon whose good condition his life may development of her class. let some an- depend. later, if you find him superin- cient schooner appear upon the horizon, tending rigging, and the bending-on of and your yachtsman will tell you that canvas, you may be sure that he is a safe from the cut of her jib and the set of man to sail with. this is the type of her main topsail she must be such-a-one. yachtsman who began as a boy with a she was built many winters ago at mani- home-made sailing canoe, and through suc towoc, or toronto, and had a yellow ceeding years has advanced season by sea deck and a raked foremast her first year; son through all the intermediate stages of she never was fast on windward work dory and cat and small sloop until he because she is too bluff; she has a new reached the present exalted position as foretopmast this year, and is reported the outing magazine to have had her galley enlarged during years later the canadian yacht invader de- the winter. all conversation, reading, feated cadillac at chicago, and the cup games and even naps are at once post- again went back to canada. rochester, poned until the identification and history ever ambitious, challenged the canadians of the distant ship are complete. this in , and chose as her representative same deep interest embalms the memory the forty-footer irondequoit, which wrested oi notable races, of great storms, of beau the trophy from the veteran jarvis on the tiful days, of courses and soundings, of strathcona. last summer the canadians harbor bars and sunken reefs, and is ready sent the thirty-footer temeraire, designed to reconstruct at a moment's notice the by fife of scotland, to rochester, with or- intimate history of ships and men and days ders to bring away the cup again. roch- that have passed away. ester met them with iroquois, a herreshoff- the element of change and evolution lawley creation, and successfully defended which characterizes yacht racing in all the cup in a series of splendid races. thus waters is strongly marked among these in recent years the upper lake men have clubs of the great lakes, whose life is yet had no part in the international races, young, and whose tastes are fickle. no which have developed into a duel between sooner is a type of boat developed than toronto and rochester. again in it is literally torn to pieces by the critics, the rivals will meet at rochester to chal- who build another class upon its ruins. lenge and defend. sometimes splendid trophies serve to per another international trophy on fresh petuate a class, but its every detail is sure water is the seawan haka cup for twenty- to be unsatisfactory to a host of enthusi- footers, which is raced for under the aus- asts, and the boats that are cherished in pices of the royal st. lawrence yacht one locality are considered worthless by club of montreal. this is a smaller lake the nearest neighbor. chicago has her series which has developed keen rivalry twenty-one-foot cabin class, the east shore and a high class of talent in the designing of lake michigan its twenty-one-foot race and handling of small boats. abouts, detroit has leanings toward cat leading up to these major struggles boats, and toronto is proud of her fleet of which make fame for designers and build- dories. there is no such thing as forcing ers, sailmakers and skippers, there are a a class upon these enthusiasts, who labor host of local contests which develop lo- iously develop the class most suited to cal talent, and keep scattered yachtsmen their own needs, and care little for yacht- closely in touch. the circuit races of the ing associations and racing unions. there lake yacht racing association and the is a strong tendency, however, to profit by regattas of the inter-lake yachting asso- the experience of the older clubs of the ciation and the lake michigan yachting atlantic coast, and to adopt so far as pos association are looked forward to in those sible the results worked out by them. waters with the keenest interest. on the this is made feasible through the general day fixed for one of these meets the local circulation and exchange of plans and work club acting as host is gay with bunting and ing drawings. white duck. a band plays on the broad international racing on the lakes is rep veranda, and there are luncheon and din- resented by the contests for the canada's ner parties buzzing with excitement. as cup, a trophy offered by toledo in . the visiting fleet sails in, noisy cannon and in that year canada of the royal canadian cheers salute them, and colors dip their yacht club of toronto, beat vencedor of formal salutes. flag officers and com- chicago, and the cup was dedicated as a mittee men dash about in launches and perpetual trophy under the name of the pulling boats, with greetings and instruc- winner. vencedor and canada were fifty- tions, and the last careful touches are given foot sloops, but the contests were not con to rigging and canvas. after the little fined to that class by the deed of gift, and fleets have run the courses, there are joyful in chicago challenged for a race in the gatherings on the larger boats and in the thirty-five-foot class. genesee of roches club house, where the story is retold and ter was chosen to represent the american passes into the annals of the club. at clubs, and brought back the trophy. two nightfall, when the riding lights are lit, -- the white wings of the great lakes harbor and house are ablaze with light, or competitors, and these races have done and from rail and yardarm paper lanterns much to bring the yachting fraternities of swing gayly. there is a dance on shore, these cities closer together. ste. claire, with no end of pretty girls and sunburned la rita, spray, sprite, yo san, and men- sailors, and for the hard-shells who dis dota are famous craft of this class. ste. dain such land enticements there are little claire, owned by franklin h. walker of gatherings in the cabins and under the the detroit country club, is the present awnings, with plenty of good cheer and cock-of-the-walk, having handily won the the same old sailor songs. when on the past two series of races. morrow or later the visitors sail away the interest in small-boat racing, en- there are salvos of cheers and artillery to couraged by these contests for the lipton speed the parting guests. never were cup, led in to the donation of another prettier girls than those who cheer you as splendid trophy for twenty-one-foot water- you glide away from the anchorage where line boats, given to the detroit country you have been an honored guest and won club by commodore walker. races for a well-sailed race. often there are many the walker cup are sailed on lake st. days of festivity in connection with these clair, a beautiful expanse of water sur- races, and the races are sailed in series, rounded by summer homes, the gate- with venetian nights and water carnivals way between the upper and lower lakes. to fill the interim. on the last night there the home of the country club stands on is sure to be a general love-feast, when each the northwest shore of the lake, a few victorious captain receives his prizes and miles above the detroit river, a comfort- tells what a good crew he commanded. able and well-appointed house, surrounded the hosts are pledged to return the visit, by verdant lawns. it is this ideal spot and there are endless sailor yarns and which has done much to make detroit the many a good song. chief yachting center of the great lakes. in addition to the international races in the last series of races for the walker and local regattas there are two annual cup ste. claire, victorious at chicago, was events of general interest to yachtsmen defeated by spray of detroit, which thus by reason of the splendid trophies offered. lays claim to be the fastest of western small these are the races for the lipton cup, mr. wadsworth warren and dr. held at chicago, and for the walker cup, c. g. jennings have, with commodore at detroit. these trophies are at present walker, been prime movers in detroit offered in the twenty-one-foot class, and yachting. have afforded abundant sport. each club among the cruising boats from the city also has its series of races and racing cruises of the straits the big yawl sitarah, of mr. in which the whole local family takes part. russell alger, jr., is notable as the only the races may be for the big fellows or for contestant to weather the norther which dories, but they are always gala anairs anu broke up the cruising race to mackinac last their every incident passes into club his- july. tory. they are so arranged as to give even in spite of the popularity of the twenty- the slowest and most antiquated cruiser one-footers there are already signs of a and the smallest "bug” a chance, and are movement in favor of smaller boats, with the nursery of the racing game. such restrictions as shall insure stability one of the most beautiful and valuable and weatherly qualities. detroit is in of american trophies is the cup given by favor of a twenty-foot water-line, and re- sir thomas lipton to the columbia yacht strictions for eighteen-foot classes have club of chicago, to be raced for by small already found favor among upper and boats. this contest is now confined to the lower lake men. twenty-one-foot water-line class, which has toronto and rochester are strong in through its influence become the best both racers and cruisers, and the local known racing class in the west. the clubs have gained celebrity through their races are sailed off chicago in midsummer splendid struggle for the canada's cup. and arouse the keenest rivalry. yachts Æmilius jarvis is perhaps the best-known men from detroit, milwaukee and cleve of canadian racing skippers, and has more land are sure to be present as spectators than once borne away the coveted inter- racers. the outing magazine national trophy. he has now become cleveland, and merrythought of toronto, enamoured of cruising, and is wedded to are typical of the cruisers to be found in the fine yawl merrythought. toronto has these waters. evolved an interesting class of small boats cleveland sailor men are at a disadvan- which developed from a crude sailing ding- tage in that their harbor has a northerly hey to a well-defined racing boat of six- entrance and they have no place to run to teen-feet water-line. neighboring clubs before a norther. the club houses are a have taken up the class with enthusiasm, short way below the main harbor in well- and it offers an able little single-hander at protected water. put-in-bay is their cruis- a minimum cost. the national club of ing ground in common with the yachtsmen toronto, which brought forth the wily from toledo and detroit. skirmisher, is an organization of able cor west of the straits the chief yachting inthians, who are proud of their ability to centers are chicago and milwaukee. mil- build and sail their own boats. little nell, waukee has a beautiful bay on the west clip and la souris are champions in this shore of lake michigan, and her sailors “flitabout" class, and its leading spirits are are keen racing men. r. p. brown and such men as george gooderham, j. st. r. b. mallory are foremost among the clair robertson and father whitcombe of cream city men who have sought lipton hamilton. cup honors. rochester has made a splendid name by chicago's sobriquet, "the windy city," her good sportsmanship and the able way gives evidence that her yachtsmen seldom in which she has conducted the interna need to be towed, and in fact with the ex- tional races. lorenzo g. mabbett, skipperception of the sunrise and sunset hours of of iroquois, the last defender, is her pres midsummer there is always a breeze along ent idol, and among her well-known yachts- her splendid and imposing water front. men are charles van voorhis and t. b. although yachting is yet young in chicago pritchard. there are three local clubs, the chicago the waters about the thousand islands yacht club, the columbia yacht club and are the chosen haunts of lower lake cruis- jackson park yacht club, which are strong ers. such yachts as merle of buffalo, a and flourishing organizations. the chi- comfortable cruising sloop; priscilla, the cago club, the senior, has a racing history, beautiful two-masted auxiliary schooner but her present interest centers in cruising, of commodore george h. worthington of and her fleet of cruisers is the pride of these waters. the schooners alice, haw- thorne and mistral, the yawls arcadia, naiad, rosamond and tannis, and the sloops vanenna and siren, are known to every harbor from michigan city to pathfinder bay. the columbia yacht club, on the other hand, is deeply interested in racing, and justly proud of the honor of conducting the lipton cup races. the club conducts many regattas and is well repre- sented in all western racing meets. the jackson park yacht club is the youngest organization, and has its anchorage in one of the picturesque lagoons made for the world's fair of , in the shadow of the convent of la rabida. being seven miles from the soot- laden air of the city, the sails and hawthorne, chicago yacht club. rigging of these suburban sailers the white wings of the great lakes race. the village blacksmith and returned to the last year, on the contrary, a north- erly of high velocity piled up seas which drove all the smaller craft to shelter, and showed that only powerful and seaworthy craft of cruising size are suited to this long and uncertain course. it is believed that this race will do much to encourage the building of able cruisers by giving them a fair chance for racing honors. the spirit of competition which has de- veloped the more exciting side of the sport burns itself out of the yachtsman of ad- vancing years, and there comes a day when the most successful racing skipper joins with the tired business man who has had his fill of the strenuous side of life, and gives up racing for the milder joys •of cruising. there comes a day when these two no longer enjoy full cockpits and a press of canvas, stripped cabins and rac- ing gear, and turn gladly to some sturdy cruiser, well-sparred and rigged, with com- fortable cabin and safe freeboard. she may be schooner or yawl, large or small, but she must be roomy and able, with power enough to hold her own in a gale, and sail spread sufficient to drive her in light airs. the most beautiful of lake cruisers is ste. claire, which won lipton cup and . have less of the coal dirt by which one marks chicago yachts from afar. warner, mcclurg, baum, soule, fox, cameron, atkins, mcconnell, price and thompson are names prominent among the records of chicago yachting. these men are on the lee shore of a long, narrow lake many miles from refuge and far from cruising grounds, yet they have with char- acteristic chicago energy made the names of their clubs watchwords in american yachting no distance race in american waters is of more interest than the annual cruising race of the chicago yacht club from chi- cago to mackinac island, a three hundred and twenty mile course. the race was es- tablished as an annual event for late july to preface the cruising season in north- ern waters, and with the exception of the transoceanic races, has no equal in point of distance. on the day of the first race, two years ago, the entire fleet set spin- nakers and balloons before a hard and shift- ing southerly blow, which carried them all the way to the finish line at a ten-knot pace, with a tremendous following sea. it was during this blow that captain charles fox took the schooner-yacht hawthorne into frankfort without her rudder, re- paired the steering gear with the aid of steel yawl arcadw. the outing magazine the schooner, which always looks trim and world is still open. for the yachtsman well balanced, at anchor or under sail. and the sailing fisherman alone, the old her long bowsprit stretches eagerly for- gods of sea and wind that menaced jason ward with its snowy drifts of headsail, or and ulysses, drake and da gama, still mirrors itself in the waters of some quiet brew their potent spells. the sailor is the roadstead. her slender, tapering top craftsman of an ancient art, and the tech- masts sustain the swaying topsail triangles nique of that craft has passed from the that surmount her lower canvas. if she merchant sailor to the yachtsman. the be deep enough her decks are flush, and thorough sailor must always be an artist broken only by cockpit and hatches. her in the sense that his craft demands of him forecastle gives accommodation for a crew the development of higher faculties be- of three or four, and her galley rejoices in yond the limits of mere technical skill. a coal range, one luxury which always at the yachtsman reaches the higher ex- tracts the small-boatman, weary of oil pression of his activities in cruising rather stoves. her cabins have bunks and state than in racing. there he is alone with rooms for from four to twenty men, and his ship. day and night, apart from all there are sail-lockers, paint-lockers, skin strife and competition, he may steep him- lockers and "grub”-lockers in plenty. it self in the delights of mere sailing for sail- is always cool under her awnings, and one ing's sake. on the lower lakes the fa- may promenade her decks or lounge on vorite cruising ground is put-in-bay at steamer-chair or rug like a passenger on a the eastern extremity of lake erie. here liner. she is a ship in every sense, and he during july and august scores of yachts is indeed a monarch who commands such from the shores of all the lakes gather to a craft. cruise and race. cleveland, detroit and more numerous, because less costly to toledo are near and this is their common construct and maintain, are the cruising ground. from here north there is a yawls which have increased many-fold in stretch of river sailing, through le detroit, the past two years. these boats with lake st. clair, and the st. clair river their big mainsail and diminutive mizzen to port huron. this passage is the great- are not so handsome as the schooners, but est ship thoroughfare in the world in point they are easily handled by a small crew, of tonnage, and is therefore highly dan- and are simpler in rig. while schooners gerous for yachts. the writer well re- are seldom built smaller than forty or fifty members the terror of being becalmed in feet on the water-line, the yawl fleets in a yawl in the channel of lake st. clair, clude able cruisers as small as twenty-five when through a long night fog horns, flares feet. these wanderers are stoutly built and night-signals barely sufficed to warn and every inch of cabin space is utilized the tremendous steel hulls from our un- for comfort. the larger yawls are as com happy little ship. each side of the chan- modious and comfortable as the schooners, nel lies a paradise of summer homes and and even the smallest are marvels of con country clubs, and the visitors' megaphone venience and adaptation. many of them is kept busy in answering hails and in- are equipped with auxiliary power in the quiries. form of a compact motor tucked away northward from port huron one glad- under a hatch or table out of the way. ly quits the narrows for the broad wa- the love of wandering and adventure ters, where he may stow his lead line inherited from our nomadic and sea-roving and breathe more easily. northwestward ancestors burns fiercely with every re stretches the verdant shore line of michi- curring spring. it is not permissible in gan, broken by the deep inset of sagi- these gray and solemn days to sack and ran naw bay. there he may shorten sail and som the village across the lake or storm stand by, for this is a miniature bay of some distant outpost for its loot, and so biscay, across whose jaws sweep boister- for the landsman the day of romantic ad ous northers, and out of whose depths venture is dead, and he must be content come hard southwesters. this is a coast with an automobile and a flower-bed. - for of lumber-camps, and there are occasional the sailor, however, the book of the ro "lumber hookers" still to be seen, with mance and tragedy of the youth of the their characteristic rig. they are usually the white wings of the great lakes three-masted, with the curious triangular lake superior, too, has her own wild foretopsail known as a “raffee.” many of charms for the cruiser, although her clear them carry deckloads piled so high as to waters are too cool for the cherished morn- seriously impede the proper handling ing dip. there are leagues of un visited foresail and mainsail, and for this reason shore and expanses of solitary waters dot- they occasionally have the mainmast cut ted with wild islands for the adventur- away. this is the “grand haven rig,” ous explorer. standing at the head of the and when the mizzen-staysails are set it st. mary's river, where vessels totaling presents the curious appearance of two three hundred thousand tons have entered big sloops overlapped. many of the old and left this greatest of the lakes in a single schooners are well-rigged and decidedly day, it is hard to believe that as late as fast, and it is no uncommon thing in a there were but two small vessels on breeze for them to hold a steamer for many these waters. watches. their masters, like the captains but if lake michigan is attractive, and of many lake liners and atlantic coasters, lake superior wild, it must be said that may know nothing of the mathematics of both are excelled as cruising ground by navigation, but they are able seamen and that part of lake huron known as the pilots, and will not hesitate to crack on north channel and georgian bay. here canvas with only a mate and a boy for crew. are splendid stretches of cold transparent mackinac island is the cruising rendez water dotted with myriad islands whose vous for all the upper lakes, a place teem number defies the memory and even the ing with historic interest, and the outpost cartographer. here are solitudes beyond of the northwest. it is a round island, the track of steamers, coves where there scarcely a league across, dotted with cot is incomparable fishing, and indian vil- tages and summer hotels. here came le lages where one may buy pretty things griffon, the first sail on the lakes, the en and hear strange stories of the great port- voy of monsieur de la salle. here gath ages to the north. it is impossible to sail ered the hardy voyageurs of the early trad or steam at night through these sunlit ing companies. what a sight it must have labyrinths where countless reefs can be been when the three score canoes of the seen by day below the placid surface, and hudson bay company, with their dozen it is not always safe or possible by day for men each, and their two hundred tons of a sail-boat to stem the currents and avoid goods, arrived at mackinac in the spring! the rocks. for this reason auxiliary power lake michigan offers attractive cruising is very useful in these waters, and some of ground with its green bay on the west the large schooners are towed among the shore and grand traverse bay on the east. islands by their tenders. the cruiser may hunt for singapore, the as september approaches the cruisers lost city, whose spires sometimes appear turn sorrowfully from their chosen haunts above the shifting dunes at the mouth of toward the lights of home. in a few days the kalamazoo river, or visit the deserted the crew will step ashore and return to the harbor of grand haven, the once mighty life of landsmen. the merry evenings in lumber-camp and harbor of refuge. the the cabin will be over, and the loose white solitary manitou and beaver islands, and clothes discarded. there will be no more the quaint little settlements of the upper sun baths in the long afternoons and canoe west shore have a charm of their own. trips by moonlight. it is always a healthy, he who has been becalmed in august in brown-skinned and hard-fisted crew that the clear waters of the manitou passage, swing their dunnage onto the home pier; with the loom of point betsy and the but somehow as they stand at the club- beavers suspended in the air and seem house door with the soft calling of the ing like reflections of the flat-based and waves behind them, and face the smoke soft-topped clouds that hang above, can and roar of the great settlement, these never forget the delicate coloring and calm men seem saddened by their home coming, beauty of the spot. the straits themselves which returns them to the little world of seem wild and threatening, sowed with conventions, and ends the free days and black buoys, and guarded by the light- starry nights of a never-to-be-forgotten house on its solitary rock in mid-channel. cruise. dieting vs. exercise to reduce flesh by g. elliot flint w hy some persons are fat, while is the reason why men are less symmetrical others are thin, seems to be not than other animals. horses, dogs, tigers, generally known. many assume subject all their muscles at all times to that the stout eat a great deal; but they nearly equal strains; hence fat accumu- do not-in fact, they are often small eaters. lates in no part more than in another, and that they do not even assimilate well is there is, in their case, bodily symmetry. indicated by their frequently having dys if men could devise exercises which would pepsia, and by their being not so energetic, put proportionately intense strains on all nor so strong, nor so long-lived, as are thin their muscles, they, too, would become persons. but if the constitutionally fat symmetrical. are, as a class, neither large eaters nor good i have said that deficient oxidation was assimilators, yet they have attributes in one principal cause of overfatness. prob- common. М. of them are of sluggish ably the reader has noticed that fat persons temperament; that is, their respiratory, are usually short-winded and weak-voiced. circulatory, secretory and excretory func so, to increase the lung capacity is the first tions are inactive; more, their general oxi- step in the reduction of flesh. for this dation is deficient. in view of these facts purpose running is, i think, superior to any it would seem that the most rational cure other exercise. boxing and hand-ball are for overfatness lies in the stimulation of also excellent for the "wind." and these the eliminative organs, and in increasing exercises will do more than increase the the oxidation of tissue. respiratory functions; they will greatly when a muscle contracts blood flows to stimulate the circulation as well as all the it in an amount proportional to the inten secretory and excretory processes. what sity of its contraction. thus much less leg exercises will not do, however, is oxid- blood will flow to muscles lightly worked ize, to any great extent, the soft tissues of than to those heavily worked. now, as the trunk and arms. true, by stimulating blood contains oxygen taken from the lungs the general circulation and by increasing and nourishment absorbed from the diges- lung capacity, leg exercises will oxidize tive organs, it follows that the harder upper tissues somewhat; but when fat is worked muscles will lose more fat by the not replaced by muscle it has a strong ten- greater amount of oxygen, whose function dency to re-form. a bad effect of leg exer- it is to destroy fat, and will be better nour cises exclusively is that they draw a major ished, than the lighter-worked muscles. part of the blood, rich in oxygen, to the this principle we see exemplified in the fact lower limbs; whereas if vigorous arm and that men’s legs, which habitually do heavy trunk exercises were executed, beside the work, are more solid and muscular than the leg exercises, much blood would be at- arms and trunk which, ordinarily, perform tracted also to the upper parts which would only light work. one's legs carry one's then be oxidized to the best advantage, body along slowly, as in walking; rapidly, their lost fat would be, at the same time, as in running; and up and down stairs; but replaced by solid tissue, and there would whatever kind of work the legs do, it is al- be no tendency for it to re-form. running, ways heavy work, for the body, which the therefore, splendid exercise though it is, legs must support, is heavy. and herein should be supplemented by vigorous "up- - dieting vs. exercise to reduce flesh per" exercises. by vigorous upper exer will again absorb the amount of water cises i do not mean calisthenics nor any that it lost. kind of so-called light exercises; i mean it is notorious that small, wiry persons reasonably hard work. are, as rule, longer lived than are stout that general exercise is the only natural and apparently healthier folk. what fol- and the best way to reduce obesity is cer lows may explain why. the thin are, tain. during exertion the volume of air usually, large eaters; that is, they ingest taken into the lungs is vastly increased, and daily a large quantity of food. but little the circulation of the blood is much quick of this can remain as waste product, for ened, as, laden with a large supply of oxy the subjects do not become fat. what gen and nutriment, it flows to the mus then becomes of it? assuredly it must be cles, nourishing them, while it at the same burned up to supply energy—thin persons time burns up and carries away particles are usually energetic-and its waste prod- of their fat. ucts must afterward be completely elim- in a subject who begins to exercise inated. on the other hand, the systems systematically, excessive oxidation occurs of fat persons are choked with waste within the tissues, until the relation of their products, which degenerate the more the constituent parts becomes normal; that is, longer they remain, until they at last pro- when the proportion of fat to flesh is cor duce divers diseases that carry the subjects rect; for healthy muscles should be sur off prematurely. so i repeat that, for the rounded with, and should contain, a certain obese, exercise is much more beneficial quantity of fat. only when such a propor than dieting, if only for the reason that the tion is reached do muscles attain their former strengthens, while the latter weak- proper symmetry. ens, the organs of elimination. i speak thus positively, although i am there are, however, cases in which adi- well aware that, at present, the preferred posis is produced by overeating. these, method for reducing flesh is "dieting" or without dieting in the sense of not satisfy- semi-starvation. but that kind of dieting ing the tissue demand for nutriment, should is neither a radical nor a natural cure for yet reduce their amount, and change some- adiposis. a low diet deprives the system what their kind of food. potatoes, peas, of its proper nourishment — impairs the baked beans, cereals, fats, sweets-such as digestion, by accustoming the stomach to puddings, pies and cake--ale, beer, sweet digest merely certain kinds of food, and wines and even water when taken with meals, these only in small quantity-weakens all all conduce to obesity. but, in lieu of the the organs, which should be continually foregoing flesh producers, one may satisfy supplied with rich blood -- and, what is hunger with a moderate amount of lean most important of all, not only fails to meats, poultry, fish; with fruits (excepting assist the eliminating organs to get rid of figs, dates and bananas), and with vege- waste products, whose presence in any con tables, such as spinach, string beans, egg- siderable quantity in the system is alone plant, celery, beets, etc. i would recom- sufficient to cause ill health, but actually mend also that those overfat from a too renders the actions of such organs still rich and too generous diet abstain from more sluggish. again, the reduction of much liquid at meals, but that they drink flesh by minimizing the supply of food has copiously of water between meals to flush the disadvantage of being but temporary, their systems. water, be it remembered, and can be maintained for even a short is an excellent purgative. time only by a rigorous abstinence which still another important factor in taking is disagreeable, unnatural and hurtful. off weight needs to be mentioned. fresh the reduction of weight accomplished by air, because it contains considerably more the forced "sweatings" of turkish baths oxygen than does ordinary indoor air, has is as unpermanent as that brought about a greater potentiality for destroying fat. by the low-diet régime. turkish baths hence while exercising one should be will, in a few hours, deplete the blood particular to have air as fresh as possible of several pounds of water; but profuse to breathe. perspiration engenders an acute thirst as most of a stout person's fat accumu- which must be satisfied, when the blood lates about the abdomen, abdominal exer- the outing magazine cises, to draw large quantities of oxygen before breakfast; for in the early morning ated blood to that part, are important. vitality is lowest and the blood has least here are two: nutritive power. the writer, when en- first, lie flat on your back on the floor gaged days and evenings in literary labor, or in bed, and, after placing the toes be exercised regularly at midnight for many neath some sufficiently firm object, rise months, and derived marked benefit from slowly to a sitting posture; then sink slow it. no bad effect from the unusual amount ly back. repeat until tired. of work was felt, and his weight remained second, lie as before, but with the feet the same. free; now raise the legs, extended straight, first curling, and then putting up two slowly up, back and over the head; bring moderately heavy weights, simultaneously, them down again slowly. repeat until is a general exercise that imposes a con- tired. siderable strain upon, and therefore de- another home exercise, as excellent for velops greatly, all the important muscles the triceps, chest and wrists as for the ab and organs in the body. domen, is to support the body, maintained the stout subject, however, should use rigidly straight, face downward, above the only those dumb-bells that are light enough floor, by means of the hands and toes; to allow him to repeat the double move- now, allowing the lower point to do duty ment of curling and pushing eight or ten as a fixed fulcrum, bend the arms, until the times. curl and push as follows: grasping chin touches the floor; then push up to a dumb-bell in each hand, stand with the straight arm again. repeat until tired. body inclined slightly forward, and with digging a trench, shoveling coal, wood the legs straight and a little apart; now chopping, moving furniture, carrying loads turn the palms upward and curl the weights -being general exercises-are all excellent to the shoulders by at once flexing the for the health as well as for the general wrists and arms and straightening the back; strength; but that kind of work is incon then throw the head back and the chest venient for many, and may be practiced out, bend backward and push the weights habitually only by those who earn their to straight arm above the shoulders. living thereby now, because of the wide distribution the advantages dumb-bells possess over and the intensity of the strain, the amount apparatus are many. easily portable and of carbonic acid (the chief product in the occupying but little space they can be decomposition of active tissues) formed kept in one's own room, where they may during the above performance is enormous; be used conveniently at one's leisure; and hence the destruction of fat and the sub- the busiest man has some leisure, if only sequent general oxygenation of the entire at the time he retires. again, the stout system must be equally enormous. more- and inactive who would find exercises with over, it cannot be supposed that the heart apparatus difficult, can easily learn how and lungs, the prime ministers to the tissues, to handle dumb-bells. lastly, and this is do not participate in a strain to which so perhaps their chief advantage, dumb-bells great a number of muscles are subjected; may be of sizes to suit particular strengths. therefore, those organs, so long as the that it is healthful to exercise just before strain remains physiological, must also be retiring has been disputed. personally, largely developed and strengthened. while i admit that night may not be the of course, if the strain be too great it be- best time to exercise, i believe it is a good comes overstrain, which is hurtful and al- time. after a day and perhaps an evening ways dangerous. so, as much care should of intellectual endeavor, exercise favors be taken that the weights be not too heavy, sleep by drawing blood from the brain and as that they be not too light. pleasantly fatiguing the body. moreover, provided, then, that the weights be not the blood being especially rich in nutriment beyond, nor too much below, the strength at night, and prolonged repose following of the subject, the foregoing simple move- muscular exertion near bed time, muscles ment would seem to be almost unparalleled and organs seem to "make" particularly as at once a reducer for the too fat, a well then. at all events, i think that ex developer for the too thin, and a promoter ercise does more real good at night than of general strength and symmetry. dieting vs. exercise to reduce flesh the movement of "see-sawing” dumb subject should take some sort of quick ex- bells; or, putting one and the other up ercise to promote perspiration-such as alternately, should be practiced as well as fast walking, running, hand-ball, boxing, the simultaneous movement. or fencing. many outdoor athletic sports the exact size of the weights one should are useful for this purpose. home exer- employ in the above dumb-bell exercises cises are: swinging light dumb-bells in the is of such great importance as to call for curling and pushing and see-sawing move- explicit directions on this point. i have ments already described, the bells weigh- recommended the use of moderate weights; ing from three to ten pounds according as by which i mean dumb-bells weighing from the subject is moderately or very strong; fifteen to fifty pounds. just what weights swinging indian clubs, running upstairs would be “moderate” to any particular in several steps at a time, and punching a dividual can be determined only by him canvas bag hung in an open doorway. self. let us say that a man of average if one can work in a gymnasium he will strength who has never regularly exercised find the "medicine ball” especially useful can curl and put up two -pound dumb to reduce weight. this is made of canvas, bells, one in each hand, ten times in suc and may weigh from four to sixteen pounds. cession; then to him those weights are one individual tosses it to another from moderate. but if a second man who has various positions: with two hands, from undergone considerable training can curl above the head, or from between the legs; and put up two -pound dumb-bells, ten with the right arm alone, and with the left times in succession, then -pound dumb arm alone; or the player may turn half bells are moderate to that individual. way around and throw the ball backward thus, by trying his strength with different above his head. the medicine ball's virtue weights, any one can easily discover the consists in its being a means to general ex- particular weights with which he can repeat ercise, affecting in a nearly equal degree all ten times; and those weights, whatever the muscles and organs. they may be, will be the proper ones for my reason for combining lighter exer- him to use. when one can repeat more cises with heavy work, in order most effec- than ten times with his proper dumb-bells, tually to take off flesh, is this: heavy work, he may safely use those that weigh about necessitating as it does intense combus- five pounds more each. the writer has tion in and around muscles, results in the seen a professional wrestler who weighed formation of much waste products; while two hundred and eighty pounds, put up more active and longer-continued exercises two -pound dumb-bells twelve success stimulate secreting and excreting organs ive times. to this giant those enormous to quickly eliminate these. weights must, therefore, have seemed only i met in a gymnasium one day a man who moderate. when one uses only those looked to be about fifty years of age. he weights with which he can repeat the same was five feet ten inches in height, well built movement ten times, there is little danger and, i should judge, weighed about one hun- of strain. dred and eighty pounds. he said that as chest weights are valuable to reduce a boy he had been thin; but stoutness came flesh. the many movements possible with with age (he went up to two hundred those machines may be learned from the and forty-five pounds), and also ill health. pamphlets accompanying them. but i then he began to practice with dumb- would warn my readers, if they wish to bells, and, by gradual training, learned to derive benefit from this kind of exercise, put up fairly heavy weights, either with not to pull weights which are very light; one hand, or with two hands. he prac- for doubtless there will be many, physical ticed also the two abdominal exercises de- culturists included, who will declare that the scribed in this article, wrestled, boxed and arms should not strenuously exert them played hand-ball. he declared that, with- selves; which same men will, in the next in two years, these exercises combined had breath, recommend running, it not occurring not only restored his health, but inciden- to them to explain their inconsistency. tally they had reduced his waist - girth after the hard and rather slow work with twelve inches, and had given him a sym- the dumb-bells and chest-weights the obese metrical figure. what an average day's horse racing costs by renÉ bache "t they're off!” time he chalks down, rubs out and chalks a hundred bookmakers have again the odds he is offering against the hastily fetched their tall stools various equine participants in the race from the betting ring, and, placing them on about to be run. the greensward in front of the grand stand, the size of some of the bets is staggering have mounted upon them, surveying the to an onlooker unfamiliar with such scenes. track from this position of vantage. a five thousand dollars, ten thousand, couple of minutes later, as the horses, each twenty-five thousand are placed in single of them bestridden by a rider in gay colors, wagers. it is marvelous how the book- sweep by, a roar like that of the sea goes up makers, in the midst of the excitement and from the vast crowd. the crush, keep track of everything with a moment afterward, as the roar dies such unfailing accuracy. at the elbow of down, it is followed by a tumult of voices, each of them is a man who records all the some of them naming the winner, others bets as fast as they are made, while a sec- uttering yells of delight. but those who ond assistant accepts, with rapid count- have lost money on the race—and they are ing, the bundles of green and yellow bills an enormous majority—are silent. it is handed in. above all a spectacle of the emotions—the beneath the field stand, which is in a scene at the finish-and to the psychologist separate inclosure, a similar scene is being it affords an interesting study. enacted simultaneously. but it is a much in the brief interval recorded to the cheaper crowd, composed largely of clerks split second by the official timekeeper's and other relatively humble folks from the watch a prize of sixty-five thousand dol near-by city, who prefer a seat at one dollar lars has been won; at least three-quarters to the comparative luxury of a place on of a million has changed hands, and the the main grand stand at three dollars. greatest of all american turf events—the rarely do their bets exceed five dollars, and futurity-has passed, for the year , as a rule their wagers are only one dollar into history. or two dollars. for these are the “pikers” no more stupendous gambling was ever -the small-fry patrons of the racing game, seen in the world than is done on such an whose money is nearly always lost, because, occasion as this. beneath the main grand unlike the great plungers, they venture it stand more than a hundred bookmakers not upon any basis of accurate information cater to the eager demand of the people or knowledge, but merely on a guess. they for an opportunity to risk their money, have no chance worth mentioning to win; each of them surrounded by a struggling, and yet, because they have the gambling pushing, elbowing crowd. in his right fever, they must risk and lose their hard- hand each bookmaker holds up a small earned dollars, no minnow being too con- rectangular board, the left side of which is temptible in size to be caught by this net occupied by a slate ruled in vertical col of finer mesh which the professional game- umns, with the figures one, two, three at sters spread. the top; while on the other side is fastened not from all points of view are the pikers with clamps a strip of programme giving contemptible, inasmuch as, in the aggre- the names of the horses. from time to gate, they contribute very largely to the what an average day's horse racing costs , , , , one hundred pinkertons. ioo ioo , , , , support of the racing institution. there million of dollars is spent on racing in is a considerable sprinkling of them in the this country every week-day during the main grand stand, and one does not find season, the estimate in all probability will the real gambling aristocracy until, if the not be excessive. the figures that follow precious opportunity be granted, he enters apply to an average day, of course: into the exclusive precincts of the track three thousand grand-stand tickets at $ .. $ , club, whose members are enabled to enjoy four thousand field-stand tickets at $ . expenses of bookmakers, at $ each. their share of the sport under circumstances profits of bookmakers at $ each. fifteen thousand programmes at ten cents. of superior comfort and luxury. the club has its own private grand pay of starter and assistants pay of two judges. stand — a broad piazza at an adequate pay of other officials.. elevation, on which the members, with upkeep of the track and park. interest on investment in track and park.. their families and guests, including many expenses of stable owners. maintenance of , pool rooms. beautifully costumed women, repose them- total... .$ , selves in easy chairs, amusing themselves during the intervals between races with this is merely an attempt to estimate conversation, the consumption of mint in a rough way the amount of money spent juleps or other beverages fetched from the for an average day's racing. of course, the bar below, and the incidental placing of cash paid for grand-stand tickets goes to wagers, which are sent into the ring liquidate the cost of keeping up the track, through their own messengers. there is a employing the pinkertons, and running the first-rate restaurant on the premises, and races-so that, in one sense, this expendi- they can order what they like to eat. for ture might be said to be counted twice. them there is no scramble, no crowding, no but, making allowance for this point, discomfort of any kind. which on mathematical grounds is open to if you would really enjoy racing, this is criticism, it is obvious that the total outlay the way to do it. the little casino at the by the public for the amusement cannot track is organized like any other country be much under two hundred and fifty thou- club, and, as a member, you have the ad sand dollars per diem during the season, vantage of feeling that you possess a pro the main disbursement being in the shape prietary interest in the gambling institu of betting losses. tion. it may be that you are a millionaire to account for this great item of loss, it --the persons most actively engaged in should be realized that hundreds of book- furthering the interests of the track are in makers, with a horde of underlings, look that class—and, if so, it is quite possible to the racing game for their means of sup- that horses of your own are taking part in port, while from the same source the pool the contests of the day. naturally, under rooms of fifty cities are kept in profitable such conditions, the fun is greatly aug operation without reckoning the main- mented. tenance of a multitude of hangers-on of the man, it is said, must eat and will drink. tracks, who derive their subsistence in one it is also true that he will gamble. way or another from the gambling industry. there is surely no more attractive method on occasions such as the futurity or the of gambling than on horse races. it has suburban, when special events draw ex- an equal seduction for all classes of people, ceptionally large crowds to the tracks, the from the humble folk who come to the expenditure is doubtless much larger. track by trolley to the aristocracy whose for example, on the day of the futurity presence on a day like that of a futurity is -a race for which, curiously enough, the made manifest by five hundred glittering horses are entered before they are born- automobiles drawn up in a phalanx on the the owners of the park at sheepshead bay lawn in the rear of the grand stand. the count upon selling about thirty thousand racing park is itself an exquisite picture, tickets to the grand stand at three dollars, beautified by the best that the gardener's and fourteen thousand to the field stand at art can do. all of this beauty and luxury one dollar each, making a total of one hun- costs a great deal of money, of course, but dred and four thousand dollars spent by the public is willing and glad to pay. the race-going public for this item alone. if it be reckoned that a quarter of a with such a source of income, it is obvious, if so, magazine the outing sum. that the profits of the racing associations portant business being to examine the would be well-nigh fabulous, were it not horses, to see if they are in condition to for the fact that none of the tracks is in start, and to make sure that they have not operation more than thirty days out of the been dosed with whiskey or any other drug. year. even thus, however, they do a satis this practice, by the way, called "doping, factory business, their gains from the sale used to be permitted, so long as the object of tickets being supplemented by the pro sought was merely to accelerate the speed ceeds of beer and eating privileges and the of the animal, but is now prohibited. sale of programmes. sometimes as many the most important single item of ex- as twenty-seven thousand programmes are penditure by far, however, is for purses; sold on a single afternoon, netting a tidy the track association sometimes contribut- ing as much as thirty-five thousand dollars expenses, on the other hand, are very to render the stakes attractive for special large. a park such as that at sheepshead occasions, while on an ordinary day it may bay represents an original outlay of about put up seven or eight thousand dollars. three million dollars, including grand stands in this way the owners of the park at and other buildings. to maintain it costs a sheepshead bay give away something like good deal of money--perhaps seven hundred one hundred and fifty thousand dollars dur- dollars a day for labor alone, with five to six ing the two brief meetings of a season. to hundred dollars added on each racing day the futurity stakes alone they add twenty for the employment of pinkerton men as thousand dollars, making the winning of extra police. on the day of the futurity that great contest worth a considerable one hundred and fifty pinkertons are re fortune. that all of this money comes in quired. the mere upkeep of the track, in reality out of the pockets of the people goes cluding repairs, painting and a considerable without saying, but so long as they are amount of gardening that has to be done, willing to pay so heavily for the amusement demands an expenditure of something like nobody has a right to complain. one hundred and fifty thousand dollars a' the tracks in the neighborhood of new year. inasmuch as the park has not more york are owned by different groups of than thirty racing days in a twelvemonth, multi-millionaire capitalists, but the same reckoning is made on this basis in the above men are conspicuous in the management of table, dividing the total outlay by thirty nearly all of them. they run the games to get the disbursement for each day of and furnish the gambling outfit, with a racing green sward in place of the green cloth there is an expensive corps of officials, which the keeper of an indoor betting en- who, though appointed by the jockey terprise provides. there are not a few club, are paid by the track association. who claim that the racing game does more the starter, at fifty dollars a day, has five harm than all the faro banks and other assistants at ten dollars a day each. five gambling institutions put together; but, thousand dollars a year is paid to the handi whether this be true or not, it would cer- capper, a very important functionary, who tainly be difficult to discover any form of allots the weights to be carried. there are gambling in which the every day individual two judges, at fifty dollars a day each; a has a smaller chance of success than in ven- timer, at ten dollars a day, and a starting turing his money on what are popularly judge at ten dollars. the paddock judge, known in these days as “the ponies. the who gets fifteen dollars a day, sees that the only persons who win are a few knowing horses are properly saddled, and that they ones, who risk their cash systematically on come out of the paddock when the bugle one or two races daily, basing the outlay blows. a clerk of the scales, at twenty-five upon information derived from private dollars a day, weighs the jockeys, and keeps a record of the races run. the association on futurity day, it is said, the book- itself appoints a physician, to be on hand makers at the sheepshead bay track pro- in case of accidents to jockeys or other per vide themselves with about one million sons, paying him one hundred dollars a dollars in ready money to use for betting. week; but the official veterinarian is nom formerly they were obliged to pay for their inated by the jockey club, his most im- privilege, thus contributing largely to the sources. what an average day's horse racing costs income of the racing associations, but this ably has as many. harry payne whitney has been done away with. at the present has thirty horses in training, and h. b. time their daily expenses are about fifty duryea, his associate and close friend, pays dollars each. each bookmaker is obliged the bills for a "string" of twenty. h. k. to employ an expert accountant, at ten to knapp, who owns most of the ·brooklyn twenty-five dollars per day, known as a ferries, is running twenty horses, and r. "sheet-writer,” who registers every bet. t. wilson, jr., whose sister married young it is work requiring great skill, inasmuch cornelius vanderbilt, maintains a stable of as prices are changing every minute. in racers quite as large. addition, he must have a cashier, at fifteen as a rule, the great racing men stable dollars a day, to take charge of the money, their horses at the tracks. for example, and two or three messengers to bring in- sydney paget keeps his string at sheeps- formation and otherwise make themselves head bay. at four hundred dollars a year useful. any of the track associations will rent a it is apparent, then, that quite a little stable adequate for the accommodation of army of people is maintained in connection twenty animals, together with a house and with the betting business alone, the pub- separate kitchen for the trainer and his lic, of course, supplying the funds for its assistants. this, of course, is merely a support. notwithstanding their large ex nominal charge, but the lessee is required penses, the profits of the bookmakers must to furnish the kitchen and house. when be very satisfactory, inasmuch as they are he goes to another track to run his horses, conspicuous, as a rule, for lavish living. he must pay two dollars a month per stall. they wear diamonds in profusion, and are august belmont, e. r. thomas and frequently seen in boxes at the theaters, ac harry payne whitney keep their racers companied by handsome and beautifully on their own country places, but this is dressed women. in short, they are the exceptional. “high rollers” of the city, and their em if you are a millionaire, and are seized ployees and the other small fry of the with an ambition for the turf, it will cost tracks, who are all of them ambitious of you anywhere from fifty to two hundred recognition as “sports,” imitate them to thousand dollars to make a start in the the extent of their means. racing business. supposing that you want unfortunately, the cost of all this ex a string of about twenty horses, you go travagant living is liquidated to no small into the market and buy yearlings on extent by poor clerks and other people to speculation, unless you prefer to acquire whom even petty losses by gambling signify at fancy prices animals with records al- discomfort, if not distress. to the tracks ready made. for the yearlings you may a great and never-failing stream of money pay from one hundred to ten thousand flows, carrying with it the pitiful earnings dollars apiece, according to "looks" and of the shop boy, together with the squan pedigree. they are always a gamble, in- derings of the spendthrift on the highroad asmuch as nobody can tell how they will to dishonor. for the mischief-making turn out. if you are lucky, you may get power of this gambling industry is enor some bargains in this way. murillo, a mously extended and amplified through the famous racer, sold for one hundred dollars medium of the pool rooms, scattered all as a yearling, and the auctioneer could over the country. hardly obtain a bid for waterboy when he great sums of money are spent in main was a youngster. on the other hand, the taining the racing stables. probably it late w. c. whitney considered nasturtium does not cost james r. keene less than one a good investment, as a two-year-old, for hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars fifty thousand dollars. a year to keep the forty horses which he the yearlings come from all over the now has in training. sydney paget has an country, the cream of the breeders' output equal number stabled at the sheepshead being sold in new york-at coney island bay track. thirty horses belonging to in the summer, and at madison square john madden, the kentucky breeder, are garden in the winter. if you start with running this season, and captain sam s. a string of twenty, you will need, to take brown, a breeder from pittsburg, prob care of them, twenty men and boys, at an the outing magazine average monthly wage of twenty-five dol may win some good-sized purses, which, lars, a foreman at forty-five dollars, a night if you are so fortunate, will diminish your watchman at twenty dollars, and a trainer net expenditure proportionately. at two thousand dollars to ten thousand for the futurity there are likely to be as dollars a year, to take general charge. you many as one thousand entries, the horses, will have to furnish board and lodging for as already stated, being entered actual- all hands, and a cook and kitchen helper ly before they are born. only a few of will be required to prepare the meals. the those entered start in the race, the great cost of feed for the horses will be a large majority being withdrawn because it is item, amounting to from one dollar to two obvious that they have no chance to win, dollars per day per animal; for a rich man but the fees paid go to augment the stake, is obliged to pay more for such things than which is the largest in the world, the ordinary folks. shoeing will come to sev twenty thousand dollars added by the enty-five dollars or one hundred dollars track association bringing it up to sixty a month for the string. then there are thousand dollars or seventy thousand dol- the services of a veterinarian to be paid for, lars. the race is run by two-year-olds, and many minor incidentals help to swell colts and fillies together; but the produce expenses. at brighton beach, and the matron at bel- race horses must have every luxury, if mont park, which are likewise contests for the best they are capable of is to be got out horses as yet unborn when entered, are of them. their stalls are really rooms, at each of them split into two races, one for least four times the size of an ordinary fillies and the other for colts. stall, so that the equine occupant has all of the racing tracks in the state of plenty of space for rolling on a bed of straw the realization (thirty thousand dollars), three or four feet in depth, which is re run at sheepshead bay, for three-year-olds, newed with fresh material every day or the horses being entered as yearling colts; two. each stall is provided with a door the suburban (twenty thousand dollars), of wire net, to exclude flies, and disinfect run at sheepshead bay; the metropolitan ants are used to prevent the breeding of handicap (twelve thousand dollars), run those insects in the droppings of the animal. at belmont park; the brooklyn handicap it should be mentioned, by the way, that (twenty thousand dollars), run at grave- the owner usually pays ten per cent. of all send; the great trial race (twenty-five his winnings to the trainer. when it is thousand dollars guaranteed), for two-year- considered that the jockey, who is an in olds, run at sheepshead bay; the junior dispensable adjunct-it is not customary champion (fifteen thousand dollars), run at for a racing stable to employ more than gravesend, and the great republic (fifty one “jock”-demands from five thousand thousand dollars—this is its last year, by dollars to fifteen thousand dollars a year the way) run at saratoga. for his services, it will be seen that, with a all of the racing tracks in the state of string of twenty racers, you are not likely new york are under the control of the to pay less than sixty thousand dollars per jockey club, though nominally managed annum for the maintenance of the outfit. by the racing commission, consisting of as the meetings succeed each other at three members, who are appointed by the the different tracks, you find yourself under governor. no track can legally do busi- heavy expense for transportation. prob ness without the permission of the com- ably you will not want to ship more than mission, and when this has been given, the eight or ten of your horses, but a car jockey club allots the dates for racing. will have to be provided for them, and for each meeting the club appoints stew- to convey that number of animals from ards, who take charge of the track from the sheepshead bay to saratoga and back, for moment the races start; but the judges, instance, will cost you not less than five starter, timekeeper, and other officials (all hundred dollars, without counting car fare of them appointed by the jockey club) are and other incidentals for the trainer and his employed by the season, during which they assistants, who must go along. on the go from track to track as the scene of the whole, you will be lucky to get off for sixty racing is changed successively from one thousand dollars--though, of course, you park to another. what an average day's horse racing costs to the telegraph companies racing is a it. your only means of redress in such a vast source of income, and until recently case is to appeal to the jockey club, which (when the law made certain drastic re may compel the gambler (such things have forms) they were obliged to pay large sums happened occasionally) to satisfy your to the track associations for their privilege. claim. the amount of matter sent out over the how many ways there are in this world of wires from the tracks to the pool rooms and beating the devil around the bush! pool to other places all over the country is in the rooms, as everybody knows, are run under aggregate enormous, the dispatches flowing a multitude of disguises, and all the power in a continuous stream, and reporting not of the law has not been adequate to inter- only results, but each race in all the stages fere to any serious extent with their activi- of its progress from start to finish. this, ties. occasional raids make interesting indeed, is only a part of the electric corre "copy” for the newspapers, but do the spondence transmitted; and it appears that gamblers little harm. as the latest de- wireless telegraphy has now entered the velopment in this line of enterprise, we field, the new floating pool room on lake have, in new york and other large cities, michigan-a steamer specially constructed pool rooms whose patronage is restricted for gambling, and equipped for the accom to persons of the gentler sex, and which are modation of one thousand persons-being frequented to some extent by women un- provided with the necessary apparatus. deniably respectable-mothers of families, a few years ago, enterprising racing men many of them, who neglect their husbands in st. louis started in to improve the game and children and squander their house- by running horses at night under electric keeping money in fruitless efforts to pick light. thus racing by daylight was sup winners. plemented by racing in the evening, and in the last ten years the total gross re- speculation on the after-dark contests went ceipts of the racing associations doing busi- on all over the country, results being tele ness under license in the state of new york graphed to every important city. un have risen from about five hundred thou- questionably the idea would have been sand dollars annually to nearly four millions adopted elsewhere, and we should now have of dollars. this gives a notion of the in- electric races at all the tracks, but for the crease in the popularity of racing. out of fact that public opinion would not tolerate these receipts something like one million the innovation. the law stepped in, and five hundred thousand dollars is paid out in the gambling fraternity, to its profound the shape of purses to winners. in addi- disgust and indignation, has since been tion, five per cent. (amounting to nearly compelled to restrict its racing activities two hundred thousand dollars for ) is to the daytime. taken by the state and paid over to the most of the people who go to the races agricultural societies--county and town run in the neighborhood of the metropolis fair associations. this tax, it should be are probably unaware that betting on such explained, was originally levied as a license contests is against the laws of the state of fee for betting privileges at the tracks—a new york. in fact, the business of the source from which the track owners under bookmakers at the tracks is, from a legal the old régime derived immense revenue. point of view, on exactly the same basis as racing furnishes the only satisfactory the selling of lottery tickets. but the re test for the selection of stallions and brood strictions imposed by the statutes are evad- it gives incitement to breeders of ed by the simple expedient of placing all superior horses by making prices for such gambling transactions of the kind on a animals high. hence its undeniable use- basis of "honor,” as it might be termed, fulness to growers of equine stock—a re- instead of contract. nowadays, if you lation in which it assumes an importance make a bet with a bookmaker at any of the distinctively agricultural. to the state of new york tracks, you place yourself en new york it brings largest profit because tirely at his mercy in the matter. you re- here prizes are greatest and competition ceive from him not even a memorandum of keenest. it is possible here for horses of the wager, and if he chooses to deny that merit to earn more money than anywhere it was made, you cannot compel him to pay else in the world. to the neighborhood of mares. the outing magazine the metropolis have gravitated all the great ciation; bennings (d. c.), owned by the racing stables of america, and here all of washington jockey club; pimlico (md.), the best animals find a market. mean owned by the maryland jockey club, and while, owing to improvement of breed, the narragansett park (cranston, r. i.), owned american thoroughbred has achieved ce by the narragansett breeders' association. lebrity abroad; and an export demand, there are racing tracks, of course, scat- which promises to put much money into tered all over the country, the most im- yankee pockets, has been created. portant of those not already named being only within the last twenty years has at new orleans, chicago, st. louis, nash- racing in this country assumed the impor- ville, memphis, latonia (ky.), hot springs tance of a business. up to that time it (ark.), los angeles and oakland, near san was pursued mainly for amusement, the francisco. owners of stables being mostly southern recently, however, racing has been gentlemen. but the north saw that there stopped entirely in chicago and in st. louis was money in the pastime, and so took it by the rigid enforcement of law. there is, up as a commercial enterprise. to-day an of course, no legal enactment against the immense aggregate of capital is invested in running of horses, but betting in connection the industry-if such a term can be applied with the sport has been prohibited, killing to a pursuit the chief feature and raison the game. no better illustration could be d'être of which is gambling. offered of the fact that the speculative ele- the racing business, as at present organ- ment is essential to this form of amuse- ized, is on a scale truly gigantic. in the ment, which, like poker or bridge, loses immediate neighborhood of new york are interest the moment the gambling feature six tracks: belmont park, owned by the is withdrawn from it. stop the betting, westchester racing association; grave and there is an end to racing. send, owned by the brooklyn jockey club; racing, considered as a sport, is health- sheepshead bay, owned by the coney isl ful. it takes hundreds of thousands of and jockey club; brighton beach, owned people out-of-doors, furnishes them with by the brighton beach racing association; recreation, and distracts their minds from jamaica, owned by the metropolitan jock- the cares and worries of every-day life. in ey club, and aqueduct, owned by the a spectacular sense the sport is delightful. queens county jockey club. all of these but on the present basis it is primarily a are under the jurisdiction of the jockey gambling game, and on this side lies its club - the governing institution, which chief interest for the public at large. that has its headquarters at fifth avenue and it does an immense deal of harm is undeni- forty-sixth street. under the same juris- able. the question whether its benefits diction, it should be added, are the tracks suffice to counterbalance or outweigh the at saratoga, owned by the saratoga rac- injury it inflicts is one in regard to which ing association; kenilworth park (buf- every thinking person must form his own falo), owned by the buffalo racing asso opinion bar range yarns v. the advent of mcallister by clarence edward mulford he blazing sun pace until it dropped dead. every ounce shone pitilessly on of strength it possessed was put forth to an arid plain which bring those hind hoofs well in front of the was spotted with forward ones and to send them pushing t dust-gray clumps the sand behind in streaming clouds. the of mesquite and horse had done this same thing many times thorny chapparal. —when would its master learn sense? basking in the the man was typical in appearance with burning sand and many of that broad land. lithe, sinewy alkali lay several and bronzed by hard riding and hot suns, gila monsters, which raised their heads and he sat in his cheyenne saddle like a centaur, hissed with wide-open jaws as several faint, all his weight on the heavy, leather-guarded whip-like reports echoed flatly over the stirrups, his body rising in one magnificent desolate plain, showing that even they had straight line. a bleached moustache hid learned that danger was associated with the thin lips, and a gray sombrero threw a such sounds. heavy shadow across his eyes. around his off to the north there became visible a neck and over his open, blue flannel shirt cloud of dust and at intervals something lay loosely a knotted silk kerchief, and on swayed in it, something that rose and fell his thighs a pair of open-flapped holsters and then became hidden again. out of swung uneasily with their ivory handled that cloud came sharp, splitting sounds burdens. he turned abruptly, raised his which were faintly responded to by another gun to his shoulder and fired. one of his and larger cloud in its rear. as it came pursuers threw up his arms and siid from nearer and finally swept past, the gilas, to his horse, and a second later an agonized, their terror, saw a madly pounding horse quavering scream floated faintly past. the and it carried a man. the latter turned man laughed recklessly and patted his in his saddle and raised a gun to his shoul mount, which responded to the confident der, and the thunder that issued from it caress by lying flatter to the earth in a caused the creeping audience to throw up spurt of heart-breaking speed. their tails in sudden panic and bury them “i'll show 'em who they're trailin'. this selves out of sight in the sand. is th' second time l've started for muddy the horse was only a broncho, its sides wells, an' i'm goin' to git there, too, for all covered with hideous yellow spots, and on th' cheyennes an' sioux out of hades!” its near flank was a peculiar scar, the brand. to the south another cloud of dust foam flecked from its crimson jaws and rapidly approached and the rider scanned found a resting place on its sides and on the it closely, for it was directly in his path. hairy chaps of its rider. sweat rolled and as he watched it he saw something wave streamed from its heaving flanks and was and it was a sombrero! shortly afterward greedily sucked up by the drought-cursed a real cowboy yell reached his ears. he alkali. close to the rider's knee a bloody grinned and slid another cartridge in the furrow ran forward and one of the bron greasy, smoking barrel of the sharp's and cho's ears was torn and limp. the broncho fired again at the cloud in his rear. some was doing its best-it could run at that few minutes later a whooping, bunched the outing magazine one. crowd of madly riding cowboys thundered man who don't know nothin' about pros- past him and he was recognized. pectin' goes an' stumbles over a fortune, an' “hullo, frenchy!” yelled the nearest those who know it from a to izzard goes “comin' back?” 'round pullin' in their belts.” “come on, mcallister!” shouted anoth "we don't pull in no belts we knows er, “we'll give 'em blazes!” in response just where to look, don't we, tenspot?” the straining broncho suddenly stiffened, remarked tex, looking very wise. bunched and slid on its haunches, wheeled "ya-as we do," answered tenspot, "if and retraced its course. yu hasn't dreamed about it, we do.” the rear cloud suddenly scattered into “yu wait; i wasn't dreamin', none what- many smaller ones and all swept off to ever,” assured tex. “i saw it!” the east. the rescuing band overtook “ya-as, i saw it too, onct,” replied them and, several hours later, when seated frenchy with sarcasm. "went and lugged around a table in tom lee's saloon, muddy fifty pound of it all th’ way to th' assay wells, a count was taken of them: two had office—took me two days; an' that there escaped and the other twelve lay some four-eyed cuss looks at it an’ snickers. where under the stolid sun. then he takes me by th' arm an' leads me “we was huntin' coyotes when we saw to th' window. see that pile, my friend? yu,” said a smiling puncher who was that's all like yourn,' sez he. “it's worth known as salvation carroll chiefly because about one simoleon a ton, at th' coast. he wasn't. they use it for ballast.'” “yep! they've been stalkin' tom's "aw! but this what i saw was gold!” chickens," supplied waffles, the champion exploded tex. poker player of the outfit. tom lee's “so was mine, for a while!” laughed chickens could whip anything of their kind frenchy, nodding to the bartender for for miles around and were reverenced ac another round. cordingly. "well, we're tired of punchin' cows! “sho! is that so?” asked frenchy with ride sixteen hours a day, year in an' year mild incredulity, such a state of affairs be out, an’ what do we get? fifty a month ing deplorable. an' no chance to spend it, an' grub that 'd “she shore is!” answered tex le blanc, make a coyote sniffle! i'm for a vacation, and then, as an afterthought, he added, an' if i goes broke, why, i'll punch again!” "where'd yu hit th' war-whoops?" asserted waffles, the foreman, thus reveal- “'bout four hours back. this here's th’ ing the real purpose of the trip. second time i've headed for this place -- what'd yore boss say?" asked last time they chased me to las cruces.” frenchy. “that so?” asked bigfoot baker, a giant. "whoop! what didn't he say! honest, "ain't they allus interferin', now? any i never thought he had it in him. it was how, they're better 'n coyotes." fine. he cussed an hour frontways an’ “they was purty well heeled,” suggested then trailed back on a dead gallop, with us tex, glancing at a dozen repeating win a-laughin' fit to bust. then he rustles chesters of late model that lay stacked in a for his gun, an’ we rustles for town," an- corner. “charley here said he thought swered waffles, laughing at his remem- they was from th’ way yore cayuse looked, brance of it. didn't yu, charley?" charley nodded and as frenchy was about to reply his som- filled his pipe. brero was snatched from his head and dis- "'pears like a feller can't amble around appeared. if he “got mad” he was to be much nowadays without havin' to fight,” regarded as not sufficiently well acquainted grumbled lefty allen, who usually went for banter and he was at once in hot water; out of his way hunting up trouble. if he took it good-naturedly he was one of “we're goin' to th' hills as soon as our the crowd in spirit; but in either case he cookie turns up,” volunteered tenspot didn't get his hat without begging or fight- davis, looking inquiringly at frenchy. ing for it. this was a recognized custom “heard any more news?" among the o-bar-o) outfit and was not in- “nope. same old story—lots of gold. tended as an insult. shucks, i've bit on so many of them rumors frenchy grabbed at the empty air and that they don't feaze me no more. one arose. punching lefty playfully in the bar range yarns ) ribs, he passed his hands behind that per his reasons for making this trip were son's back. not finding the lost head-gear two-fold: he wished to see buck peters, the he laughed and tripping lefty up, fell with foreman of the bar outfit, as he and him and, reaching up on the table for his buck had punched cows together twenty glass, poured the contents down lefty's years before and were firm friends; the back and arose. other was that he wished to get square “yu son-of-a-gun!” indignantly wailed with hopalong cassidy, who had decisively that unfortunate. “gee, it feels funny,” cleaned him out the year before at poker. he added, grinning, as he pulled the wet hopalong played either in great good luck shirt away from his spine. or the contrary, and i have, myself, out of “well, i've got to be amblin',” said curiosity, counted his consecutive winnings frenchy, totally ignoring the loss of his up to seventeen. frenchy played an even, hat. 'goin' down to buckskin," he of consistent game and usually left off richer fered and then asked, “when's yore cook than when he began, and this decisive comin'?" defeat bothered him more than he would “day after to-morrow, if he don't get admit, even to himself. loaded," replied tex. hopalong cassidy, the younger by a “who is he?” score of years, was a product of the land; "a one-eyed greaser-quiensabe an he had grown up there and he had been tonio.” “toting" a gun ever since his arrival when a "i used to know him. he's a h- of a boy of seven. he ranked high as a gun- cook. dished up the grub one season when fighter, his quickness and accuracy being i was punchin' for th’ tin-cup, up in mon among those things for which he was justly tana," replied frenchy. famed. he had wandered to the bar “oh, he kin cook now, all right,” replied , where he had worked his way from waffles. chore boy to an expert, full-fledged cow- “that's about all he can cook. use puncher, as he had been taken in hand ter wash his knives in th' coffee pot an’ and trained by a master, or rather, by blow on th' tins. i chased him a mile one several of them. for some years all his night for leavin’ sand in th’ skillet. yu money had been spent for cartridges and can have him— i don't envy yu none he had developed a passion for shooting, whatever.” which, under the guiding hands of buck “he don't sand no skillet when little peters and the others, had made his ability tenspot's around," assured that person, in this line almost beyond belief. natu- slapping his holster. “does he, lefty?” rally irrepressible and sunny, he had adopt- “if he does yu oughter be lynched,” ed the good points of his associates with a consoled lefty. minimum of the bad, for the foreman's “well, so long,” remarked frenchy, rid eye was quick to detect and his hand as ing off to a small store where he bought a quick to chastise; he was a combination cheap sombrero. of reckless nerve, humor, mischievousness, frenchy was a jack-of-all-trades, having earnestness and nonchalance, and, as a re- been cow-puncher, prospector, proprietor sult, he was continually getting into trou- of a “hotel” in albuquerque, foreman of a ble, which he promptly got out of. ranch, sheriff and at one time had played the ranch of the bar in what is angel to a venturesome but poor show now a well-known county of southwestern troupe. besides his versatility, he was well texas, was made up of eight irrepressible known as the man who took the stage cow-punchers, who were very well known through the sioux country when no one throughout the cow country as an aggre- else volunteered. he could shoot with the gation that never “took water." they en- best, and his one pride was the brand of joyed the reputation of being square, and poker he handed out. furthermore, he that fact extended to them some privi- had never been known to take an unjust leges. advantage over any man, and, on the con the round-up season was at hand and trary, had frequently voluntarily handi the bar was short of ropers, the rumors capped himself to make the event more of fresh gold discoveries in the black hills interesting. but he must not be classed having drawn all the more restless men as being hampered with self-restraint. north. the outfit also had a slight touch the outing magazine of the goid fever, and only their peculiar soliloquized, as he aimed a stream at hopa- loyalty to the ranch and the assurance of long's ear, which showed for a second as the foreman that when the work was over pete wilson strove for a half-nelson, and he would accompany them, kept them from he managed to include johnny and pete joining the rush of those who desired sud in his effort. den and much wealth as the necessary pre- several minutes later, when the storm liminary of painting some cow-town in all had subsided, the woeful crowd enthusias- the “bang up” style such an event would tically urged hopalong to the bar, where call for. therefore, they had been given he“ bought.” orders to secure the required assistance and “of all th' ornery outfits i ever saw,” they intended to do so, and were prepared began the man at the table, grinning from to kidnap if necessary, for the glamour of ear to ear at the spectacle he had just wealth and the hilarity of the vacation witnessed. made the hours falter in their speed. hearing the strange voice, hopalong, as frenchy leaned back in his chair in who was always on the alert, wheeled with cowan's saloon, buckskin, early the next his hand going toward his thigh and then morning, planning to get revenge on hopa- stretched it forth in greeting. long and then to recover his sombrero, he “why, hullo, frenchy! glad to see yu, heard a medley of yells and whoops, and yu old son-of-a-gun! what's th' news soon the door flew open before the strenu from th' hills?” ous and concentrated entry of a mass of “rather locoed, an' there's a locoed twisting and kicking arms and legs, which gang that's headin' that way. goin' up?” magically found their respective owners he asked. and reverted to the established order of “shore, after round-up. seen any punch- things. when the alkali dust had thinned ers trailin' around loose?” he saw seven cow-punchers sitting on the "ya-as," drawled frenchy, delving into prostrate form of another, who was earnest the possibilities suddenly opened to him, ly engaged in trying to push johnny nel and determining to utilize to the fullest son's head out in the street with one foot as extent the opportunity that had come to he voiced his lucid opinion of things in him unsought. “there's nine over to general and the seven in particular. after muddy wells that yu might git if yu wants red connors had been stabbed in the back them bad enough. they've got a som- several times by the victim's energetic el brero of mine," he added, deprecatingly. bow, he ran out of the room, and presently “nine! twisted jerusalem, buck! nine returned with a pleased expression and a whole cow-punchers a-pinin' for work," sombrero full of water, his finger plugging he shouted, but then added thoughtfully, an old bullet hole in the crown. “mebby they's engaged," it being one of “is he enny better, buck?" anxiously in the courtesies of the land not to take quired the man with the reservoir. another man's help. “about a dollar's worth,” replied the "nope. they've stampeded for th' foreman. “jest put a little right here,” hills an' left their boss all alone," replied he drawled, as he pulled back the collar of frenchy, well knowing that such desertion the unfortunate's shirt. would not add any merits to the case of the "ow! wow! wow!” wailed the recip- distant outfit. ient, heaving and straining. the unen “th’sons-of-guns,” said hopalong, "let's gaged leg was suddenly wrested loose, and go an' get 'em,” he suggested, turning to as it shot up and out billy williams, with buck, who nodded a smiling assent. his pessimism aroused to a blue-ribbon “oh, what's th’hurry?" asked frenchy, pitch, sat down forcibly in an adjacent part seeing his projected game slipping away of the room, from where he lectured be into the uncertain future and happy in tween gasps on the follies of mankind and the thought that he would be avenged on the attributes of army mules. the o-bar-o outfit. “they'll be there till red tiptoed around the squirming bunch, to-morrow noon they's waitin' for their looking for an opening, his pleased expres cookie, who's goin' with them.” sion now having added a grin. “a cook! a cook! oh, joy, a cook!” “seems to be gittin' violent like,” he exulted johnny, not for one instant doubt- bar range yarns ing buck's ability to capture the whole “yu take that cayuse back an' get cow- outfit, and seeing a whirl of excitement in an's," he ordered. the effort. "that cayuse is good for cheyenne- “anybody we knows?" inquired skinny she eats work, an' besides, i wants my thompson own," laughed frenchy. “shore. tenspot davis, waffles, sal “yu must had a regʻlar picnic, from th’ vation carroll, bigfoot baker, charley looks of that crease,” volunteered hopa- lane, lefty allen, kid morris, curley tate long, whose curiosity was mastering him. an' tex le blanc,” responded frenchy. "shoo! i had a little argument with “umm-m. might as well rope a bliz some feather dusters-th' ()-bar-o crowd zard,” grumbled billy. “might as well cleaned them up." try to git th' seventh cavalry. we'll have “that so?” asked buck. a pious time corralling that bunch. them's “yep! they sorter got into th' habit of th' fellows that hit that bunch of inquiring chasin' me to las cruces an' forgot to crow braves that time up in th’ bad lands stop.” an’ then said by-bye to th' ninth.” "how many'd yu get?" asked lanky “aw, shut up! they's only two that's smith. very much, an' buck an' hopalong can sing “twelve. two got away. i got two 'em to sleep," interposed johnny, afraid before th' crowd showed up-that makes that the expedition would fall through. fo'teen.” “how about curley and tex?” pugna "now th' cavalry 'll be huntin' yu," ciously asked billy. croaked billy “huh, jest because they buffaloed yu “hunt nothin'! they was in war-paint over to las vegas, yu needn't think they's --think i was a target?—think i was goin' dangerous. salvation an' tenspot are th' to call off their shots for 'em?” only ones who can shoot,” stoutly main they relayed at the barred-horseshoe tained johnny. and went on their way at the same pace. “here yu, get mum,” ordered buck to shortly after leaving the last-named ranch the pair. “when this outfit goes after any buck turned to frenchy and asked, “any thing it generally gets it. all in favor of of that outfit think they can play poker?" kidnappin' that outfit signify th’ same by “shore. waffles.” kickin' billy," whereupon bill swore. “does th' reverend mr. waffles think so “do yu want yore hat?" asked buck, turning to frenchy. he shore does." “i shore do,” answered that individual. “do th' rest of them mavericks think so “if yu helps us at th' round-up, we'll get too?” it for yu. fifty a month an' grub,” of “they'd bet their shirts on him.” fered the foreman. at this juncture all were startled by a “o. k.,” replied frenchy, anxious to sudden eruption from billy. "haw! haw! even matters. haw!” he roared as the drift of buck's in- buck looked at his watch. “seven tentions struck him. “haw! haw! haw!" o'clock-we ought to get there by five if “here, yu long-winded coyote,” yelled we relays at th' barred-horseshoe. come red, banging him over the head with his quirt. “if yu don't ‘haw! haw!' away “how are we goin' to git them?” asked from my ear, i'll make it a wow! wow! billy. what d'yu mean? think i am a echo “yu leave that to me, son. hopalong cliff? yu slab-sided doodle-bug, yu!" an’ frenchy 'll tend to that part of it. all "g'way, yu crimson topknot, think my yu has to do is to keep yore gun loose, head's a hunk of quartz? fer a plugged in case any trouble busts, which i ain't peso i'd strew yu all over th’ scenery!” a-figurin' on,” replied buck, making for his shouted billy, feigning anger and rubbing horse and swinging into the saddle, an ex his head. ample which was followed by the others, “there ain't no scenery around here,” including frenchy. interposed lanky. "this here be-utiful as they swung off buck noticed the con prospect is a sublime conception of th’ dition of frenchy's mount and halted. devil.” very hard?" on.” the outing magazine "easy, boy! them highfalutin' words 'll heard of them skedaddlin' from trouble, give yu a cramp some day. yu talk like a but they's square when the joke's on 'em. newly made sergeant," remarked skinny. we ain't goin' to hold 'em up. de-plom- “he learned them words from that sky- acy's th' game.” pilot over at el paso," volunteered hopa billy looked dubious and said nothing. long, winking at red. “he used to amble if he hadn't proven that he was as nervy down th' aisle afore th’ lights was lit so's as any man in the outfit they might have he could get a front seat. that was all taken more stock in his grumbling. hunky for a while, but every time he'd go “what's th’ latest from abilene way?” out to irrigate, that female organ-wrastler asked buck of frenchy. would seem to call th' music off for his “nothin' much 'cept th’ barb-wire ruc- special benefit. so in a month he'd sneak tion," replied the recruit. in an' freeze to a chair by th’ door, an' after "what's that?" asked red, glancing a while he'd shy like blazes every time he apprehensively back at hopalong. got within eye range of th' church.” “why, th’settlers put up barb-wire “shore. but do yu know what made fence so's th' cattle wouldn't get on their him get religion all of a sudden? he used farms. that would a been all right, for to hang around on th' outside after th' joint there wasn't much of it. but some brit- let out an' trail along behind th’music ishers who own a couple of big ranches out slinger lookin' like he didn't know what to there got smart all of a sudden an' strung do with his hands. then when he got wire all along their lines. punchers cross- woozy one time she up an' told him that in’ th’ country would run plumb into a she had got a nice long letter from her fence an' would have to ride a day an'a hubby. then mr. lanky hit th' trail for half, mebby, afore they found th' corner. santa fé so hard that there wasn't hardly well, naturally, when a man has been used none of it left. i didn't see him for a whole to ridin' where he blame pleases an'as month,” supplied red innocently. straight as he pleases, he ain't goin' to “yore shore funny, ain't yu?” sarcasti chase along a five-foot fence to 'frisco when cally grunted lanky. "why, i can tell he wants to get to waco. so th' punchers things on yu that 'd make yu stand treat got to totin' wire-snips, an' when they runs up agin a fence they cuts down half a mile “i wouldn't sneak off to santa fé an' or so. sometimes they'd tie their ropes cheat yu out of them. yu ought to be to a strand an' pull off a couple of miles an’ ashamed of yoreself." then go back after the rest. th’ ranch "yah!” snorted the aggrieved little man. bosses sent out men to watch th' fences an’ “i had business over to santa fé!” told 'em to shoot any festive puncher that “shore,” indorsed hopalong. “we've monkeyed with th' hardware. well, yu all had business over to santa fé. why, know what happens when a puncher gets about eight years ago i had business shot at.” “choke up," interposed red. “about “when fences grow in texas there'll be eight years ago yu was washing pans for th' devil to pay,” said buck. he hated to cookie an’ askin' me for cartridges. buck think that some day the freedom of the used to larrup yu about four times a day, range would be annulled, for he knew that eight years ago. it would be the first blow against the cow- to their roars of laughter hopalong boys' occupation. when a man's cattle dropped to the rear where, red-faced and couldn't spread out all over the land he quiet, he bent his thoughts on how to get wouldn't have to keep so many men. square. farms would spring up and the sun of the "we'll have a pleasant time corralling free and easy cowboy would slowly set. that gang,” began billy for the third time. “i reckons th' cutters are classed th' “for heaven's sake get off that trail!" same as rustlers,” remarked red with a replied lanky. “most of them knows gleam of temper. buck an' hopalong, an' when they sees “by th’owners, but not by th' punchers; them with their holsters tied open they an’ it's th' punchers that count,” replied won't make no getaway. of course they frenchy. ain't none of them empty-guns, an' i never “well, we'll give them a fight,” inter- for a year. bar range yarns posed hopalong, riding up. “when it gets hours later they rode into muddy wells, a so i can't go where i please i'll start on th' town with a little more excuse for its ex- warpath. i won't buck th' cavalry, but istence than buckskin. the wells were i'll keep it busy huntin' for me an’ i'll have in an arid valley west of guadaloupe pass, time to 'tend to th' wire-fence men, too. and were not only muddy but more or less why, we'll be told we can't tote our guns!” alkaline. "they're sayin' that now,” replied as they neared the central group of frenchy. “up in topeka, smith, who's buildings they heard a hilarious and asser- now marshal, makes yu leave 'em with th' tive song which sprang from the door and bartenders.” windows of the main saloon. it was in jig “i'd like to see any two-laigged cuss get time, rollicking and boisterous, but the my guns if i didn't want him to!" began words had evidently been improvised for hopalong, indignant at the idea. the occasion, as they clashed immediately “easy, son,” cautioned buck. “yu with those which sprang to the minds of would do what th' rest did because yu are the outfit, although they could not be a square man. i'm about as hard-headed clearly distinguished. as they approached a puncher as ever straddled leather an’ nearer and finally dismounted, however, i've had to use my guns purty consider the words became recognizable, and the able, but i reckons if any decent marshal visitors were at once placed in harmony asked me to cache them in a decent way, with the air of jovial recklessness by the why, i'd do it. an' let me brand some roaring of the verses and the stamping of thin' on yore mind — i've heard of smith the time. hopalong grinned and closed of topeka, an' he's mighty nifty with his his holster flaps; no trouble would be hands. he don't stand off an' tell yu to likely to exist there. unload yere lead-ranch, but he ambles up oh, we're red-hot cow-punchers playin' on our close an' taps yu on yore shirt; if yu makes luck, a gun-play he naturally knocks yu clean an' there ain't a proposition that we won't buck: across th' room an' unloads yu afore yu from sunrise to sunset we've ridden on th' gets yore senses back. he weighs about a range, hundred an’ eighty an' he's shore got sand but now we're off for a howlin' change. to burn." “yah! when i makes a gun play she chorus. plays! i'd look nice in abilene or paso or laugh a little, sing a little, all th' day; albuquerque without my guns, wouldn't play a little, drink a little--we can pay; ride a little, dig a little an' rich we'll grow. ? just because i totes them in plain sight oh, we're that bunch from th' -bar-o! i've got to hand 'em over to some liquor- wrastler ? reckons not! some hip- oh, there was a little tenderfoot an' he had a pocket skunk would plug me afore i could an' th' gun an' him went a-trailin' up some fun. wink. i'd shore look nice loping around they ambles up to santa fé to find a quiet a keno layout without my guns, in th’ same game, town with some cuss huntin' me, wouldn't an' now they're planted with some more of th' i? a whole lot of good a marshal would same! a done jimmy, an' didn't harris get his as hopalong, followed by the others, from a cur in th’dark?” shouted hopalong, pushed open the door and entered, he took angered by the prospect. up the chorus with all the power of texan “we're talkin' about topeka, where lungs and even billy joined in. the sight everybody has to hang up their guns,” re that met their eyes was typical of the plied buck. “an' there's th’ law- men and the mood and the place. lean- "to blazes with th' law!" whooped hop- ing along the walls, lounging on the table along in red's ear, as he unfastened the and straddling chairs with their forearms cinch of red's saddle and at the same time crossed on the backs were nine cowboys, stabbing that unfortunate's mount with ranging from old twenty to young fifty in his spurs, thereby causing a hasty separa- years, and all were shouting the song and tion of the two. when red had picked keeping time with their hands and feet. in himself up and things had quieted down the center of the room was a large man again the subject was changed and several dancing a fair buck-and-wing to the time little gun, the outing magazine so uproariously set by his companions. hatless, neck-kerchief loose, holsters flap- ping, chaps rippling out and close, spurs clinking and perspiration streaming from his tanned face, danced bigfoot baker as though his life depended on speed and noise. bottles shook and the air was fogged with smoke and dust. suddenly, his belt slip- ping and letting his chaps fall around his ankles, he tripped and sat down heavily. gasping for breath, he held out his hand and received a huge plug of tobacco, for bigfoot had won a contest. shouts of greeting were hurled at the newcomers and many questions were fired at them regarding “th'latest from th’ hills." waffles made a rush for hopalong, but fell over bigfoot's feet and all three were piled up in a heap. all were beaming with good nature, for they were as so many schoolboys playing truant. prosaic cow- punching was relegated to the rear and they looked eagerly forward to their several missions. frenchy told of the barb-wire fence war and of the new regulations of "smith of topeka" regarding cow-punch- ers' guns, and from the caustic remarks explosively given it was plain to be seen what a wire fence could expect should one be met with, and there were many imagi- nary smiths put hors de combat. kid morris, after vainly trying to slip a blue-bottle fly inside of hopalong's shirt, gave it up and slammed his hand on hopa- long's back instead, crying: "well, i'll be dog-goned if here ain't hopalong! how's th' missus an' th’ deacon an' all th’ folks to hum? i hears yu an' frenchy's reg'lar poker fiends!” "oh, we plays onct in a while, but we don't want none of yore dust. yu'll shore need it all afore th' hills get through with yu," laughingly replied hopalong. “oh, yore shore kind! but i was a sort of reckonin' that we needs some more. perfesser p. d. q. waffles is our poker man an' he shore can clean out anything i ever saw. mebby yu fellers feels reck- less-like an' would like to make a pool," he cried, addressing the outfit of the bar , “an' back yore boss of th' full house agin ourn?” red turned slowly around and took a full minute in which to size the kid up. then he snorted and turned his back again. the kid stared at him in outraged dignity. "well, what t'ell!” he softly murmured. then he leaped forward and walloped red on the back. "hey, yore royal highness!” he shouted. “yu-yu-yu- oh, hang it-yu! yu slab-sided, ring- boned, saddle-galled shade of a coyote, do yu think i'm only meanderin' in th' misty vales of-of- suggestions intruded from various sources. "hades?" offered hopalong. “cheyenne?” murmured johnny. “misty mistiness of misty?" tentatively supplied waffles. red turned around again. 'better come up an' have somethin',” he sym- pathetically invited, wiping away an imag- inary tear. "an' he's so young!” sobbed frenchy. “an' so fair!" wailed tex. “an' so ornery!" howled lefty, throwing his arms around the discomfited youngster. other arms went around him, and out of the sobbing mob could be heard earnest and heartfelt cussing, interspersed with impera- tive commands, which were gradually obeyed. the kid straightened up his wearing ap- parel. “come on, yu locoed- “angels?” queried charley lane, inter- rupting him. "sweet things?" breathed hopalong in hopeful expectancy. “oh, d-n it!" yelled the kid as he ran out into the street to escape the persecu- tion. "good kid, all right," remarked waffles. “he'll go around and lick some greaser an’ come back sweet as honey.” “did somebody say poker?" asked big- foot, digressing from the kid. “oh, yu fellows don't want no poker. of course yu don't. poker's mighty un- uncertain," replied red. “yah!” exclaimed tex le blanc, push- ing forward. “i'll just bet yu to a stand- still that waffles an’ salvation 'll round up all th'festive simoleons yu can get together! an' i'll throw in frenchy's hat as an in- ducement.” "well, if yore shore set on it make her a pool,” replied red, “an'th' winners divide with their outfit. here's a starter,” he added, tossing a buckskin bag in the table. “come on, pile 'em up." the crowd divided as the players seated themselves at the table, the o-bar-o crowd grouping themselves behind their repre- bar range yarns sentatives; the bar behind theirs. a th' gang?” he asked genially. “we've had deck of cards was brought and the game a h- of a time this yere trip,” he went on was on. without waiting for red to reply. “five red, true to his nature, leaned back in a miles out of las cruces we stood off a son- corner, where, hands on hips, he awaited of-a-gun that wanted th’ dude's wealth. any hostile demonstration on the part of then just this side of the san andre foot- the o-bar-o; then, suddenly remembering, hills we runs into a bunch of young bucks he looked half ashamed of his warlike posi who turned us off this yere way an' gave tion and became a peaceful citizen again. us a runnin' fight purty near all th’ way. buck leaned with his broad back against i'm a whole lot farther from paso now than the bar, talking over his shoulder to the bar i was when i started, an' seein' as i lost a tender, but watching tenspot davis, who jack i'll be some time gittin' there. yu was assiduously engaged in juggling a don't happen to sabe a jack i can borrow, handful of mexican dollars. up by the do yu?” door bigfoot baker, elated at winning the “i don't know about no jack, but i'll buck-and-wing contest, was endeavoring to rope yu a bronch," offered red, winking learn a new step, while his late rival was at johnny. drowning his defeat at buck's elbow. lefty “i'll pull her myself before i'll put dyna- allen was softly singing a mexican love mite in th'traces,” replied the driver. “yu song, humming when the words would not fellers might amble back a ways with me come. at the table could be heard low them buddin' warriors 'll be layin' for me.” spoken card terms and good-natured ban "we shore will,” responded johnny ter, interspersed with the clink of gold and eagerly. “there's nine of us now an' silver and the soft pat-pat of the onlook there'll be nine more an' a cook to-morrow, ers' feet unconsciously keeping time to mebby.” lefty's song. notwithstanding the grim “gosh, yu grows some,” replied the assertiveness of belts full of . 's and the guard. “eighteen 'll be a plenty for them peeping handles of long-barreled colt's glory hunters.” set off with picturesque chaps, sombreros “we won't be able to,” contradicted and tinkling spurs, the scene was one of red, "for things are peculiar." peaceful content and good-fellowship. at this moment the conversation was “ugh!" grunted johnny, walking over interrupted by the tenderfoot, who sported to red and informing that person that he, a new and cheap sombrero and also a belt red, was a worm-eaten prune, and that for and holster complete. half a wink he, johnny, would prove it. "will you gentlemen join me?" he asked, red grabbed him by the seat of his cordu- turning to red and nodding at the saloon. roys and the collar of his shirt and helped “i am very dry and much averse to drink- him outside, where they strolled about ing alone.” taking pot shots at whatever their fancy "why, shore," responded red heartily, suggested. wishing to put the stranger at ease. down the street in a cloud of dust rum the game was running about even as bled the las cruces-el paso stage, and the they entered and lefty allen was still sing- two punchers went up to meet it. raw ing his love song, the rich tenor softening furrows showed in the woodwork, one mule the harshness of the surroundings. hopa- was missing and the driver and guard wore long laughed joyously at a remark made fresh bandages. a tired tenderfoot leaped by waffles and the stranger glanced quickly out with a sigh of relief and hunted for his at him. his merry, boyish face, under- baggage, which he found to be generously lined by a jaw showing great firmness and perforated. swearing at the god-forsaken set off with an expression of aggressive self- land where a man had to fight highwaymen reliance, impressed the stranger, and he re- and indians inside of half a day, he grum marked to red, who lounged lazily near blingly lugged his valise toward a forbid him, that he was surprised to see such a ding-looking shack which was called a face on so young a man and he asked who hotel. the player was. the driver released his teams and then "oh, his name's hopalong cassidy,” an- turned to red. “hullo, old hoss, how's swered red. “he's th'cuss that raised that the outing magazine ruction down in mexico last spring. rode mean nothin'—he's only a damn-fool kid!” his cayuse in a saloon and played with the he cried. loungers and had to shoot one before he buck smiled and wrested the colt from got out. when he did get out he had to johnny's ever ready hand. “here's an- fight a whole bunch of greasers an' even other,” he said. red laughed softly and potted their marshal, who had th’ drop on rolled johnny on the floor. "yu jackass," him. then he returned and visited the he said, “don't yu know better'n to make marshal about a month later, took his gun a gun-play when we needs them all?” away from him and then cut the cards to “what are we goin' to do?” asked tex, see if he was a prisoner or not. he's a glancing at the bulging pockets of hopa- shore funny cuss.” long's chaps. the tenderfoot gasped his amazement. "we're goin' to punch cows again, that's “are you not fooling with me?” he asked. what we're goin' to do," answered bigfoot “tell him yu came after that five hun dismally. dred dollars reward and see," answered red “an' whose are we goin' to punch? we good-naturedly. can't go back to the old man,” grumbled "holy smoke!” shouted waffles as hop tex. along won his sixth consecutive pot. “did salvation looked askance at buck and yu ever see such luck!” frenchy grinned then at the others. "mebby," he began, and some time later raked in his third. “mebby we kin git a job on th’ bar . salvation then staked his last cent against then turning to buck again he bluntly hopalong's flush and dropped out. asked, "are yu short of punchers?” tenspot flipped to waffles the money “well, i might use some," answered the he had been juggling, and lefty searched foreman, hesitating. “but i ain't got his clothes for wealth. buck, still leaning only one cook, an'- against the bar, grinned and winked at “we'll git yu th' cook, all o. k.,” inter- johnny, who was pouring hair-raising tales rupted charley lane vehemently. "hi, into the receptive ears of the stranger. yu cook!” he shouted, “amble in here an’ thereupon johnny confided to his newly git a rustle on!” found acquaintance the facts about the there was no reply and, after waiting game, nearly causing that person to ex for a minute, he and waffles went into the plode with delight. rear room, from which there immediately waffles pushed back his chair, stood up issued great chunks of profanity and noise. and stretched. at the finish of a yawn he they returned looking pugnacious and dis- grinned at his late adversary. "i'm all in, gusted, with a wildly fighting man who was yu old son-of-a-gun. yu shore can play more full of liquor than was the bottle draw. i'm goin' to try yu again some time. which he belligerently waved. i was beat fair and square an’ i ain't got no "this here animated distillery what yu kick comin', none whatever,” he remarked, sees is our cook,” said waffles. "we eats as he shook hands with hopalong. his grub, nobody else. if he gits drunk “oh, we're that gang from th’o-bar that's our funeral; but he won't get drunk! ,"” hummed the kid as he sauntered in. if yu wants us to punch for yu say so an’ one cheek was slightly swollen and his we does; if yu don't, we don't.” clothes shed dust at every step. “who "well," replied buck thoughtfully, "meb- wins?” he inquired, not having heard by i can use yu.” then with a burst of waffles. recklessness he added, “yes, if i lose my “they did, d-n it!” exploded bigfoot. job! but yu might sober that greaser up one of the kid's peculiarities was re if yu let him fall in th' horse-trough." vealed in the unreasoning and hasty con as the procession wended its way on its clusions he arrived at. from no desire to mission of wet charity, carrying the cook imply unfairness, but rather because of his in any manner at all, frenchy waved his bitterness against failure of any kind and long-lost sombrero at buck, who stood in his loyalty to waffles, came his next words: the door, and shouted, “yu old son-of-a- “mebby they skinned yu." gun, i'm proud to know yu!" like a flash waffles sprang before him, buck smiled and snapped his watch shut. his hand held up, palm out. “he don't “time to amble,” he said. the builders v. the men of the untamed desert by ralph d. paine photographs by the author twas in the camp rescue party of freighters, so they left him of bullfrog that in camp. he directed them as well as he mitchell, the big, could, but the search was bootless, and brick-red mining griffin, the carpenter of bullfrog, was added man of nevada, to the long list of desert victims. several l told me his view months later a party of prospectors stum- of law on the bled, by chance, across what was left of desert: him. there were no traces of his outfit; “if you are he had thrown away his gun, his canteen prospecting with and his hat. one shoe was found thirty an unreasonable hog of a partner who feet from his body, and he had torn off and wants to eat three slices of bacon and half flung away most of his clothing. these a loaf of bread for breakfast, and lets the were the ghastly evidences of the last great canteen gurgle down his throat, while you fight he had made to struggle on. get along with a strip of bacon and just “when they're dying for water,” said moisten your lips when you take a drink, mitchell, who knew the “desert game,” then you're all right if you kill him. i'd “they throw away everything until all kill him if there wasn't anything else to do. their clothes are gone, and you generally it's a tough game, and it's your life or his find them without a stitch on.” when you're lost or your grub-stake and to those who have not been in the neva- water are giving out. da desert it seems almost incredible that these observations were suggested by men should wander there and die, a dozen the arrival in camp two days before of the or more every summer, and that others will bones of a prospector who had died of follow them and die of thirst in there so thirst some forty miles from bullfrog dur long as there are inaccessible mountains ing the previous summer. he had been a to be searched for gold. nor is it always carpenter, earning wages of eight dollars a the heedless prospector thai loses his life day in the new camps during the “boom, by daring the desert. i heard many of but the gold-fever led him away from this these stories while crossing this stretch of safe and profitable toil. he picked up a country, and passed more than one little partner, they loaded their burros and heap of lava fragments that marked the trailed off south toward the death valley grave of a victim of thirst, but that which country to prospect in the funeral range. made the most haunting impression ran as three weeks after the desert swallowed follows: them up the partner wandered into a a prosperous mining man of delamar, freighters' camp, half-crazed with thirst nevada, started to drive from his home to and exhaustion. he was able to tell the pioche, an old silver-mining camp which freighters that the carpenter was some was a large and tumultuous city thirty where out beyond, lost and without water, years ago. pioche lay across an expanse too helpless to move. the partner was too of desert, but the driver had made the trip weak and fevered to go back with the many times and had no more thought of the outing magazine a party was hastily equipped and the wheel tracks were followed until dark. then a dry camp was made and the search was picked up on the following day. when they found the man only three days had elapsed since he left home. he was naked and stark mad. he became conscious for a little while, long enough to tell how the tragedy had happened, and he died soon after they carried him home, of thirst, fever and a shattered mind. "why didn't he follow his wagon tracks back home?" said the man from delamar who was reminded to tell the story. “it's most likely that he did try for a little way, and then he went off his head, just scared crazy at the bare thought of being lost on foot out there with no water in thirty or forty miles, and he figured that he could never make the distance, and that made him locoed. or maybe he thought he saw a spring and lost the trail and couldn't find it again. the desert plays queer tricks with a man's thinkin' outfit.” when i was in bullfrog last year a stage line had been recently put across a stretch of a hundred and twenty-five miles of this desert to connect the new gold camps with "old pop" gilbert, the desert stage driver. the railroad which runs from los angeles to salt lake. it was a danger than if he were taking a train for hardy and venturesome enterprise, backed san francisco. he had a good pair of by the kimball brothers, two young men horses and a buckboard in which he stowed of the stuff that men are made of in the a full canteen, food and a keg of water for new west. they came naturally by their his horses. with good luck he expected liking for the stage business, for their to cover the distance between daylight and father had been one of the partners in dark, and to return home next day. . it was the overland mail when ben holliday hardly worth saying good-by to his family. was making a new highway across the somewhere out in the sand and sage continent. brush he got out of his buckboard, for what to set this desert enterprise going they purpose no one knows. it may have been had to establish supply and water stations, to adjust the harness, or to kill a rattle for in the route of a hundred and twenty- snake with his whip. by an almost incred five miles there were only two springs, and ible twist of fate it happened that he would not a human being except for the lonely have been a luckier man to jump from the ranchers that dwelt in these two little oases. deck of a liner into mid-ocean. his horses three wells were driven so that water sta- took fright and ran away and left him. tions were about thirty miles apart, and they wandered into delamar on the day by these wells were pitched the tents of the after, and the empty buckboard told the station keepers who fed and watered the town that disaster had overtaken the driver. change horses. the builders there was no way traffic, and the reve stir of its rough-clad, sunburned men in nues must come from the daily mail con the raw, new streets, and the noise of pick tract and the few passengers who went and blast in the prospect holes that bur- through to the gold camps or came out to rowed the slopes, to detach it from the life- the railroad at twenty-five dollars a head. less silence that broods over the desert. whether or not the young men gained there were no other passengers for the profit by the enterprise, they were sure of stage, and the driver welcomed me like a the distinction of operating the loneliest long-lost brother, for he did not like to drive and most forbidding stage route in the his thirty-mile stretch alone. we passed united states. out through a gap in the mountains and when i decided to come out of bullfrog they were just beginning to flush with the by this route, my acquaintances agreed singular glory of the desert dawn. in the that the idea was wholly asinine. wake of a shrouding haze of blue which "go back to goldfield in an automobile lingered briefly, came a crimson flush that and take a train for reno," they chorused. touched first the crests of the mountains, “that stage trip to las vegas is the worst then stole swiftly down their sides, and the ever. those who have lived through it day leaped into being. swear they'll die here of old age before while it was yet early morning we passed they'll try to escape the way they came in. through a tiny camp called gold center. it's the limit.” gold had not been found there, and it was the project sounded so uncommonly the center of nothing except sand and moun- forbidding that it seemed well worth undertaking. surely the kind of men who drove and supplied the stage line, as well as the wayfarers to be met along the route, were helping to build up the unpeopled places after their own solitary fashion, and they would be far more worth knowing than the com- monplace traveling acquaintances one is wont to make in the beaten ruts of railway journeying. the stage halted to pick me up at the beatty hotel in the bull- frog district at five o'clock in the morning. the starlit night was yet chill with the windless and crystalline air that refreshes the desert when the sun has left it. a covered concord wagon pulled by two horses came slowly up the tented street that was ankle deep in white alkali dust. here and there a canvas wall glimmered from an early candle light within. the little camp, cud- died in the rugged arms of the mountains that locked it round about, seemed very lonely and almost forlorn, so far it was from the more permanent habitations of imen and women, so brave an out- post of a civilization that has almost outgrown this kind of pio- neering. it needed the talk and "old man" crump, a battered soldier of fortune. the outing magazine tains. it was, in a way, left stranded in the ebb of the roaring tide of the first rush a few months before when the vanguard of the invaders took it hilariously for grant- ed that gold must be everywhere in these mountains. the more rational settlements of beatty and bullfrog lay only a few miles away, yet gold center persisted in being, and, mira- bile dictu, misguided initiative was erect- ing a brewery in the camp, which was as far removed from malt and hops as it was possible to find this side of hades. we stopped to pick up a passenger who was waiting at the canvas saloon fittingly named “the last chance." the driver in an ill-timed spirit of jest observed to the shaggy landlord: “how are things in dead center?” “dead center! hell!” indignantly snort- ed the leading citizen. “for two cents i'd pull you off that broken-down hearse and spill you all over gold center, which is booked to be the finest camp in the state of nevada. busted prospectors that have to drive stage to get a grub-stake mustn't come round here passing any gay remarks about 'dead center.'” the passenger was tactful enough to add no fuel to this blaze as he clambered into the wagon and shook the dust of gold cen- ter from his battered boots. he slumped into the collar of his faded overcoat beside the driver, and pulled down over his eyes a dilapidated soft hat which in itself was eloquent of many things suffered in desert wandering. he was a chunky, elderly man, with a blue eye, a flaming ruddiness of counte- nance and a thatch of tow hair which defied the onslaught of years to turn it gray. ever and anon this“ bill” crump extracted a bottle from his pocket, offered it to the driver, who always refused with a melan- choly gesture, and drank therefrom a "slug to keep the chill off,” with a deftness which gave weight to his claim that he was a son of old kentucky. they were an oddly contrasting pair, the stout and garrulous crump and the driver, who was a lanky man with a subdued and even chastened air, as if life were bound to be a losing fight. yet they were kindred spirits in that both had been rolling stones along the outer edge of civilization, and old age was over- taking them with naught to show for the long years except an amazing variety of experiences. crump faced the future stoutly with a flamboyant courage, and you could picture in your mind's eye this battered, sturdy figure shaking his fist at fortune in city and camp and desert, always making the best of it and letting the morrow go hang. as for the stage driver, he was and would be a dreamer to the end, industrious, sober, but never making a winning fight against the realities, moving on with an air of resignation to find the vision still beyond his grasp. crump had just quit a govern- ment surveying party with which he had been horse-wrangler for four months. the expedition was moving into death valley to make the first map of that unpleasant region, and crump decided that he needed change of occupation. “i'm going to spend the winter in lo, angeles," he explained with his enduring bravado. “i need rest and change. i'm a furniture maker by trade. my chest of tools is in hock, but i'll get it out and make money and mix up with good people.” his versatility had included many years of driving stage. indeed, he could rake up memories of stage routes in texas forty years ago, but heaven only knows how many things crump had turned his hand to in the meantime. the driver had been fairly consistent as a miner “on and off” for twenty-five years. last year he pros- pected in the desert for nine months and found nothing. now he was full of a scheme to return to alaska and outfit a party to trap for furs and incidentally look for gold. there was no chance of failure, he argued, and whoever should be bold enough to grub-stake him would inevitably reap a dazzling reward. he was driving stage only until he could turn miner again. he had seen the part- ners of his youth make great strikes, and become the millionaires of utah and col- orado. his own failures had not soured him. he was inclined to believe that every man got a square deal sooner or later, and his turn was coming, of course it was. crump was not looking an inch beyond his florid nose, even when he talked so large about his plans for the winter, while the driver was continually dwelling with the visions that were as impalpable as the des- ert mirages. the builders when the sun swiftly climbed clear of the any disaster to outfit occurs, if the canteen curtaining mountains the desert began to runs dry, if a man should fall and break a swim in a glare of heat. to the right ran leg while prospecting in the valley, he the naked heights of the charleston moun were wise to blow out his brains to avoid tains, while a few miles to the left was the lingering in slow torture. a veteran pros- grim funeral range, beyond which lay pector who had crossed death valley three death valley. between these towering times, and was known among his fellows ranges stretched the desert, over which the as a man of unsurpassed physique, hardi- stage crawled like a fly on a whitewashed hood and experience, told me what he floor. through a notch in the funeral thought of the journey while we were in range we could see across death valley to camp together in the desert: the mountains which lifted high on the “it's plumb foolishness to go into death other side of it. there was something valley with less than three or four men in inexpressibly forbidding and mysterious your party, and twelve to fifteen burros. about this view-point in the desert. load four or five burros with hay and for death valley has been for long a barley for their own feed, three or four with fabled place in which have been focused canned stuff, flour and bacon, and at least many strange and dreadful stories, some of four with water, and then if you don't get them true. it is one of the hottest corners lost you will pull through all right. there's of the globe, because, while bullfrog, only gold in there, though i don't take any thirty miles from the head of it, is four stock in scotty and his mysterious mine. thousand feet above the sea, this narrow he's a four-flusher. there's prospectors valley between two mountain ranges drops ransacking the death valley country all to a depth below sea level. therefore it the time, and you can't hide a rich mine becomes a furnace in which no air is stirring. this country any more than you can hide a it is perilous to life bed use good water can brick building in a town.” be found in only two or three places in a you cannot cross the nevada desert length of more than a hundred miles, while without hearing much gossip about “scot- there are many poison springs fatal to man ty,” he of the meteoric special trains and and beast. the colossal bluffs. a “busted cow punch- it is bad enough, in truth, without need er" with an exotic imagination, he has jug- of exaggerated pen pictures such as the gled fact and fancy until the shrewdest men western correspondent loves to paint. if in the southwest lock horns in argument as a grizzled prospector on the sage-brush trail. prospectors in the heart of the desert (a rarely truthful impression of this forbidding landscape). the plodding freight caravan making ten miles a day. a stage station thirty miles from nowhere. to whether “scotty" has a mine in death vanced under a grub-stake contract by a valley or dreamed it. when i met him hypnotized new york banker, which funds he was coming out of the desert with a bag were to be used in developing the alleged of ore on a burro and the announcement: mining properties. “scotty” refused to “i'm due to take a little whirl down the tell his backer where the mine was, and road. i'm going to bluff old harriman out squandered all the money advanced, which of his boots. i'll bet him fifty thousand accounts for a good part of his flaming dollars i can beat him in a race from the prosperity. as a type of the vanishing coast to chicago, me taking a special on the west, he makes a crudely picturesque fig- santa fé and that old figger-head pulling ure against the dull background of a tamed out on the union pacific. i'm afraid he'll civilization. take water. he's a counterfeit on the while the stage toiled through the sand level, he is. and the choking dust clouds at the depress- "they say l’ve killed fifteen men justing speed of three miles an hour, there to see 'em kick," continued “scotty" as he moved in the far distance another pillar of cocked his hat over one eye. “it ain't so. alkali powder, heralding the approach of a i wouldn't do no such thing. they don't freight outfit. freight outfit. by-and-by there emerged know me. i fool 'em all. i've got a pair from this gray veil the long string of of glasses that can see fifty miles, and a gun eighteen mules, stepping out with brave that shoots five miles, and when they try and patient endurance, pulling the linked to trail me into the valley i run blazers on trail wagons no more than ten or twelve 'em. i'm due for a little race down the miles in a day. the “mule-skinner" in pike behind an engine. maybe i've got a the saddle of a wheeler and the “swamper” mine and maybe not. maybe it's on fur- trudging alongside exchanged quiet greet- nace creek, in the funeral range, death ing with the stage driver from the envelop- valley, and maybe it's somewhere else, and ing fog : maybe i ain't got a cent." “how are you?” a bizarre figure of a man who harmo "all right, how are you?" nizes immensely well with the romantic mys "pretty good. tery of death valley, “scotty" has man the passing was like that of two ships at aged to find and somehow maintain the the freighters were ten days out notoriety that is dear to his soul. to my from las vegas. one trail wagon was knowledge he "blew in” on his "whirl' loaded with hay and water kegs, for they some six or eight thousand dollars ad must make dry camps between wells, and sea. the builders they moved over the face of the desert with a change of drivers was made, and a a lonely deliberation that made an im white-bearded patriarch turned back with pression of large and patient self-reliance. us to drive over the same forty miles he had scarcely anywhere in america could they just covered northward bound. be found outside of the desert. nor will “when you get home," he chuckled as they linger much longer even here, for the he picked up the reins, “tell 'em you rode railroad is creeping along their trail and one stage with old pop gilbert, that crossed soon they will be of a piece with the other the plains with his dad way back in fifty. relics of the genuinely “simple life" which we set out with ox teams to go from illinois made a nation of a wilderness. to california and we were six months on the at noon we stopped at a tent where there way. dad didn't like it out there, and was a driven well. the keeper of the sta being a sudden man he turned round and tion lived here with his wife, and there were trailed back to illinois. i'm still pretty no other dwellers within thirty miles of chipper." them. nothing grew around them but the he was a "chipper” veteran of the fron- sagebrush, nothing else could be made to tier, for after a conversation with the in- grow without water. there was not a tree vincible crump and a pull at the black within a day's journey. but this cheerful, bottle, he became interested in the govern- kindly, gray-haired man and his motherly ment survey lately forsaken by this passen- wife said that they liked the desert. per ger and asked: haps it was because their faces hinted that “s'pose there's a chance for me to get home and contentment are where the heart that job you throwed up? i like hosses, is. a stage each way within the twenty and death valley's one place where i hain't four hours, the occasional freight outfit or been. i don't mind hot weather. i'm a prospector that tarried for water-these desert lizard, and my hide's turned were their only visitors. there were no leather.” neighbors. crump was discouraging, but · pop” the heat beat down on their shadeless prattled for some time about missing this tents as from a furnace, and the uneasy chance to be baked alive in death valley. dust was always sifting into food and cloth- it seemed absurd that danger should men- ing and blankets. but their contentment ace along a trail rutted by the wheel tracks in each other and the inscrutable fascina of the stage, but in mid-afternoon we came tion of the desert had turned the edge of up with an unexpected suggestion of the their hardships. implacable hostility of these waste places. a lone prospector making camp. a desert watering place. the builders the stage had covered perhaps twenty miles these samples he proposed to save enough from the noon-time camp, and the next sta money from his wages to outfit in the tion lay about the same distance beyond. spring and return to his mountain solitude. a solitary man was staggering on ahead, here was a man for you, who preached a reeling from one side of the trail to the concrete gospel of faith, hope and works. other, frequently halting to throw himself in the early evening we toiled througlı ſat on the sand and then more weakly a cañon or "wash,” and found a tent in- scrambling on. far in advance, mere dots habited by a youth in charge of a “dry on the horizon, were three other figures on camp.” he was somewhat peevish as he foot. protested: presently the voice of the derelict floated “i've watered your fresh team of horses, back in incoherent cries. he was so ab but they drunk every drop i had, and there sorbed in trying to overtake those far ahead ain't enough left to make a pot of coffee. of him that he paid no heed to the stage what am i going to do? if you don't send until it was beside him. then he fell on me back a barrel from indian spring in the his knees with wild gestures and husky morning, i'm up against it hard. i ain't a pleadings in spanish. it seemed that the kicker, but likewise i ain't a lizard to live vanishing dots beyond were companions without water.” with whom he had set out to walk from the now the stage crept along over a rolling bullfrog camps to the railroad. they had country in which the darkness conjured only two canteens among them, and since many delusions and phantasies. we al- leaving the last well their water had given ways seemed to be climbing the white trail out, and his strength had been the first to that streaked the night, even when the break. desert was tilting downward. one could they had pushed on in desperation, see, or thought he saw, houses, railroad leaving him to fall by the wayside, and as grades, even trains of cars. these were crump expressed it, “the greaser was all only the shadowed shapes of bleak buttes in.” the pitiable wretch was given a lift and uncouth fragments of landscape that in the stage, and a pull at the driver's big had been gashed by cloud-bursts tearing canteen. when his callous comrades were down from the distant mountain sides. the overtaken they were fluently cursed by old “joshua trees,” distorted caricatures of man crump in vivid spanish, and their verdure, became clothed with an uncanny canteens were filled for them, after which vagueness of aspect. their twisted, spiked the abandoned one was dumped among limbs took on the shapes of men who were them to shift for himself. crawling over the sand, or crouching in wait, of a different metal was the old prospec or gesturing either in threat or appeal. all tor met a little while later. he was really sense of proportion had vanished with the an amazing figure of a man. bent and daylight. one's eyes were no longer to partly crippled with rheumatism, he was be relied upon. a low-hung star, barely trudging along alone, with no burros, and veiled behind the ragged crest of a moun- not even a blanket on his back. he had tain “wash,” cast an upward reflection not a cent in his pocket, and his outfit con which so well mimicked the glow of a dis- sisted of a canteen and a paper parcel of tant camp fire that a lost tenderfoot would bacon and biscuit given him by a generous have struggled toward it, believing help freighter. while we stopped to breathe the horses in the sand, which made walking long after midnight we came to whis- like pulling through a heavy snow, the old pering trees around a spring, the first oasis man made cheerful chat with us. he had in twenty hours of travel from bullfrog, been working a claim in the funeral range and as grateful a resting place as ever the through the summer, and his grub-stake school-day geographies pictured of a palm- having run out, he was footing it into the fringed well in the sahara. water had mining camps to look for work to tide him done a miracle here, and when we pushed over the winter. he pulled a few chunks on at daylight after a few hours’ sleep of rock from his pockets, gazed at them in a tent, green fields and pastured cat- with an expression of the most radiant con tle were glimpsed, and the growing crops fidence, and said that on the strength of that sweetly contrasted with the desolation was near. the builders the men who have been the scouts in the creative, for wealth is made where there invasion of the desert, the hardy, patient was none before, and magnificent oppor- pioneers of the gold camps, the prospecting tunity offered for independent and self- outfit, the freight wagons and the stage reliant livelihood to those who seek it. lines, bulk big among the builders of this when one has seen the desert at close part of the west. behind them, however, range, and then views the great beginnings there will flock a population which will make of its redemption by means of water, he its permanent settlement even in such a becomes impressed with the fact that there hopeless-looking desert as i have tried are two sides to the “mormon question." briefly to picture. their wagon trains marked the path for the the irrigation work of the national gov first survey of the first transcontinental ernment has made its first great conquest railroad. and they pushed on into and in this same nevada. into this parched claimed for their own a territory so for- sand and sage brush the water was turned bidding that other pioneers shunned it as last year from the works of the “carson they would the shadow of death. and truckee project.” it was the most before the sun had set on the second day important event in the history of the state, of the mormon camp in the salt lake val- of more lasting value even than the discov- ley, work had begun on the first irrigation ery of the comstock lode. from the mass ditch ever constructed by anglo-saxon ive masonry dam constructed to hold the hands. waters of the truckee river, the blessed the teeming mining camp may pass. flow was turned over fifty thousand acres. nevada is a graveyard of dead camps. in this was the first completed section of a the seventies virginia, pioche, belmont, plan which is to irrigate almost a million jefferson, ely, flaunted what they believed acres of desert. this means, within a few was inexhaustible mineral wealth. their years, fifty-acre farms for twenty thousand streets roared with life and activity, their families, on which they are certain of large hills echoed to the thunder of stamp mills and profitable crops. it means also new and hoisting engines. their streets hold towns and cities to supply this great farm a hundred people where once fifteen thou- ing community with the products of the sand toiled and planned and hoped. their mills and mines and factories of the coun smelters, furnaces and tall chimneys are try, east and west. rusted and forlorn. but the water that is more than that, it means a new popula- turned into the desert brings with it an tion of perhaps two hundred thousand souls enduring prosperity that will eclipse all the and a prosperous principality added to the present-day gold-bearing of tonapah and greatness of the union. it is all purely bullfrog. (to be continued.) an oasis. scenes from the "real country," by r. r. sallows and grandma thinks it strange that the hens don't lay. . scenes from the "real country" ii. when the sun is hot at the "swimmin' pool." so may scenes from the “real country" iii. how to fish the old mill-pond without working. scenes from the “real country iv. the "old folks" still boil their own soft-soap. scenes from the real country" v. “experience and a frying-pan can do pretty nigh anything." - -- . scenes from the real country". vi. the summer song of the scythe and whetstone. drawing by frank e. schoonover. "white fang's free nature flashed forth again, and he sank his teeth into the moccasined foot." white fang* by jack london illustrated by frank e, schoonover part iii.-the gods of the wild the makers of fire t' warm. chapter eyes, but out of the eyes of all his ancestors was the cub now looking upon man--out of eyes that had circled in the darkness he cub came upon it suddenly. it around countless winter camp fires, that was his own fault. he had been had peered from safe distances and from careless. he had left the cave and the hearts of thickets at the strange, two- run down to the stream to drink. it might legged animal that was lord over living have been that he took no notice because things. the spell of the cub's heritage was he was heavy with sleep. (he had been upon him—the fear and the respect born out all night on the meat-trail, and had but of the centuries of struggle and the accumu- just then awakened.) and his carelessness lated experience of the generations. the might have been due to the familiarity of heritage was too compelling for a wolf that the trail to the pool. he had traveled it was only a cub. had he been full grown often, and nothing had ever happened on it. he would have run away. as it was, he he went down past the blasted pine, cowered down in a paralysis of fear, already crossed the open space and trotted in half proffering the submission that his kind amongst the trees. then, at the same in had proffered from the first time a wolf stant, he saw and smelt. before him, sit came in to sit by man's fire and be made ting silently on their haunches, were five live things, the like of which he had never one of the indians arose and walked over seen before. it was his first glimpse of to him and stooped above him. the cub mankind. but at the sight of him the five cowered closer to the ground. it was the men did not spring to their feet, nor show unknown, objectified at last, in concrete their teeth, nor snarl. they did not move, flesh and blood, bending over him and but sat there, silent and ominous. reaching down to seize hold of him. his nor did the cub move. every instinct hair bristled involuntarily; his lips writhed of his nature would have impelled him to back and his little fangs were bared. the dash wildly away, had there not suddenly hand, poised like doom above him, hesi- and for the first time arisen in him another tated, and the man spoke laughing, “wa- and counter instinct. a great awe de bam wabisca ip pit tah.” (“look! the scended upon him. he was beaten down white fangs!") to movelessness by an overwhelming sense the other indians laughed loudly, and of his own weakness and littleness. here urged the man on to pick up the cub. was mastery and power, something far and the hand descended closer and closer, there away beyond him. raged within the cub a battle of the in- the cub had never seen man, yet the in stincts. he experienced two great impul- stinct concerning man was his. in dim ways sions—to yield and to fight. the resulting he recognized in man the animal that had action was a compromise. he did both. fought itself to primacy over the other ani he yielded till the hand almost touched mals of the wild. not alone out of his own him. then he fought, his teeth flashing * copyright, , by jack london. in a snap that sank them into the hand. as the outing magazine the next moment he received a clout along she only crouched closer. she did not side the head that knocked him over on his snap, nor threaten to snap. the other side. then all fight fled out of him. his men came up and surrounded her, and felt puppyhood and the instinct of submission her and pawed her, which actions she took charge of him. he sat up on his made no attempt to resent. they were haunches and ki-yi’d. but the man whose greatly excited, and made many noises hand he had bitten was angry. the cub with their mouths. these noises were not received a clout on the other side of his indications of danger, the cub decided, as head. whereupon he sat up and ki-yi’d he crouched near his mother, still bristling louder than ever. from time to time, but doing his best to the four indians laughed more loudly, submit. while even the man who had been bitten “it is not strange,” an indian was say- began to laugh. they surrounded the cub ing. “her father was a wolf. it is true, and laughed at him, while he wailed out his her mother was a dog; but did not my terror and his hurt. in the midst of it he brother tie her out in the woods all of three heard something. the indians heard it, nights in the mating season? therefore too. but the cub knew what it was, and was the father of kiche a wolf.” with a last, long wail that had in it more of “it is a year, gray beaver, since she ran triumph than grief, he ceased his noise and away,” spoke a second indian. waited for the coming of his mother, of "it is not strange, salmon tongue, his ferocious and indomitable mother, who gray beaver answered. “it was the time fought and killed all things and was never of the famine, and there was no meat for afraid. she was snarling as she ran. she the dogs.” had heard the cry of her cub and was dash “she has lived with the wolves,” said a ing to save him. third indian. she bounded in amongst them, her "so it would seem, three eagles,” gray anxious and militant motherhood making beaver answered, laying his hand on the her anything but a pretty sight. but to cub; "and this be the sign of it.” the cub the spectacle of her protective rage the cub snarled a little at the touch of was pleasing. he uttered a glad little cry the hand, and the hand flew back to admin- and bounded to meet her, while the man ister a clout. whereupon the cub covered animals went back hastily several steps. his fangs and sank down submissively, the she-wolf stood over against her cub, while the hand, returning, rubbed behind facing the men, with bristling hair, a snarl his ears and up and down his back. rumbling deep in her throat. her face was “this be the sign of it,” gray beaver distorted and malignant with menace, went on. “it is plain that his mother is the bridge of the nose wrinkling from tip to kiche. but his father was a wolf. where- eyes, so prodigious was her snarl. fore is there in him little dog and much then it was that a cry went up from one wolf. his fangs be white, and white fang of the men. “kiche!” was what he ut shall be his name. i have spoken. he is tered. it was an exclamation of surprise. my dog. for was not kiche my brother's the cub felt his mother wilting at the dog? and is not 'my brother dead?” sound. the cub, who had thus received a name “kiche!" the man cried again, this time in the world, lay and watched. for a time with sharpness and authority. the man-animals continued to make their and then the cub saw his mother, the mouth-noises. then gray beaver took a she-wolf, the fearless one, crouching down knife from a sheath that hung around his till her belly touched the ground, whimper neck, and went into the thicket and cut a ing, wagging her tail, making peace signs. stick. white fang watched him. he the cub could not understand. he was notched the stick at each end and in the appalled. the awe of man rushed over notches fastened strings of rawhide. one him again. his instinct had been true. string he tied around the throat of kiche. his mother verified it. she, too, rendered then he led her to a small pine, around submission to the man-animals. which he tied the other string. the man who had spoken came over to white fang followed and lay down be- her. he put his hand upon her head, and sid her. salmon tongue's hand reached en white fang out to him and rolled him over on his back. mother. there was a rush. white fang kiche looked on anxiously. white fang bristled and snarled and snapped in the felt fear mounting in him again. he could face of the open-mouthed, oncoming wave not quite suppress a snarl, but he made of dogs, and went down and under them, no offer to snap. the hand, with fingers feeling the sharp slash of teeth in his body, crooked and spread apart, rubbed his stom himself biting and tearing at the legs and ach in a playful way and rolled him from bellies above him. there was a great up- side to side. it was ridiculous and un roar. he could hear the snarl of kiche as gainly, lying there on his back with legs she fought for him; and he could hear the sprawling in the air. besides, it was a cries of the man-animals, the sound of clubs position of such utter helplessness that striking upon bodies, and the yelps of pain white fang's whole nature revolted against from the dogs so struck. it. he could do nothing to defend him only a few seconds elapsed before he was self. if this man-animal intended harm, on his feet again. he could now see the white fang knew that he could not escape man-animals driving back the dogs with it. how could he spring away with his clubs and stones, defending him, saving four legs in the air above him? yet sub him from the savage teeth of his kind that mission made him master his fear, and he isomehow was not his kind. and though only growled softly. this growl he could there was no reason in his brain for a clear not suppress; nor did the man-animal re conception of so abstract a thing as justice, sent it by giving him a blow on the head. nevertheless, in his own way, he felt the and furthermore, such was the strangeness justice of the man-animals, and he knew of it, white fang experienced an unac them for what they were, makers of law countable sensation of pleasure as the hand and executors of law. also, he appre- rubbed back and forth. when he was ciated the power with which they admin- rolled on his side he ceased the growl; when istered the law. unlike any animals he the fingers pressed and prodded at the base had ever encountered, they did not bite nor of his ears the pleasurable sensation in claw. they enforced their live strength creased; and when, with a final rub and with the power of dead things. dead scratch, the man left him alone and went things did their bidding. thus, sticks and away, all fear had died out of white fang. stones, directed by these strange creatures, he was to know fear many times in his deal- leaped through the air like living things, ings with man; yet it was a token of the inflicting grievous hurts upon the dogs. fearless companionship with man that was to his mind this was power unusual, ultimately to be his. power inconceivable and beyond the natu- after a time white fang heard strange ral, power that was godlike. white fang, noises approaching. he was quick in his in the very nature of him, could never classification, for he knew them at once for know anything about gods; at the best he man-animal noises. a few minutes later could know only things that were beyond the remainder of the tribe, strung out as it knowing; but the wonder and awe that he was on the march, trailed in. there were had of these man-animals in ways resembled more men and many women and children, what would be the wonder and awe of man forty souls of them, and all heavily bur at sight of some celestial creature, on a dened with camp equipage and outfit. mountain top, hurling thunderbolts from also, there were many dogs; and these, either hand at an astonished world. with the exception of the part-grown pup the last dog had been driven back. the pies, were likewise burdened with camp hubbub died down. and white fang outfit. on their backs, in bags that fast licked his hurts and meditated upon this, ened tightly around underneath, the dogs his first taste of pack cruelty, and his in- carried from twenty to thirty pounds of troduction to the pack. he had never weight. dreamed that his own kind consisted of white fang had never seen dogs before, more than one eye, his mother and him- but at sight of them he felt that they were self. they had constituted a kind apart, his own kind, only somehow different. but and here, abruptly, he had discovered they displayed little difference from the many more creatures apparently of his own wolf when they discovered the cub and his kind. and there was a sub-conscious re- the outing magazine sentment that these, his kind, at first sight eyes warily upon them, and prepared to had pitched upon him and tried to destroy spring away if they attempted to precipi- him. in the same way he resented his tate themselves upon him. mother being tied with a stick, even though but in a short while his fear of the tepees it was done by the superior man-animals. passed away. he saw the women and it savored of the trap, of bondage. yet of children passing in and out of them with- the trap and of bondage he knew nothing. out harm, and he saw the dogs trying often freedom to roam and run and lie down at to get into them and being driven away will had been his heritage; and here it was with sharp words and flying stones. after being infringed upon. his mother's move a time, he left kiche's side and crawled ments were restricted to the length of a cautiously toward the wall of the nearest stick, and by the length of that same stick tepee. it was the curiosity of growth that was he restricted, for he had not yet got be- urged him on-the necessity of learning and yond the need of his mother's side. living and doing that brings experience. he did not like it. nor did he like it the last few inches to the wall of the tepee when the man-animals arose and went on were crawled with painful slowness and with their march; for a tiny man-animal precaution. the day's events had pre- took the other end of the stick and led pared him for the unknown to manifest kiche captive behind him, and behind itself in most stupendous and unthinkable kiche followed white fang, greatly per ways. at last his nose touched the canvas. turbed and worried by this new adventure he waited. nothing happened. then he he had entered upon. smelled the strange fabric, saturated with they went down the valley of the stream, the man-smell. he closed on the canvas far beyond white fang's widest ranging, with his teeth and gave a gentle tug. until they came to the end of the valley, nothing happened, though the adjacent where the stream ran into the mackenzie portions of the tepee moved. he tugged river. here, where canoes were cached harder. there was a greater movement. on poles high in the air and where stood it was delightful. he tugged still harder fish racks for the drying of fish, camp was and repeatedly until the whole tepee was made; and white fang looked on with in motion. then the sharp cry of a squaw wondering eyes. the superiority of these inside sent him scampering back to kiche. man-animals increased with every moment. but after that he was afraid no more of the there was their mastery over all these looming bulks of the tepees. sharp-fanged dogs. it breathed of power. a moment later he was straying away but greater than that, to the wolf-cub, was again from his mother. her stick was tied their mastery over things not alive; their to a peg in the ground and she could not capacity to communicate motion to un follow him. a part-grown puppy, some- moving things; their capacity to change what larger and older than he, came toward the very face of the world. him slowly, with ostentatious and belliger- it was this last that especially affected ent importance. the puppy's name, as him. the elevation of frames of poles white fang was afterward to hear him caught his eye; yet this in itself was not so called, was lip-lip. he had had experience remarkable, being done by the same crea in puppy fights and was already something tures that flung sticks and stones to great of a bully. distances. but when the frames of poles lip-lip was white fang's own kind, and, were made into tepees by being covered being only a puppy, did not seem danger- with cloth and skins, white fang was as ous; so white fang prepared to meet him tounded. it was the colossal bulk of them in friendly spirit. but when the stranger's that impressed him. they arose around walk became stiff-legged and his lips lifted him on every side like some monstrous, clear of his teeth, white fang stiffened too, quick-growing form of life. they occupied and answered with lifted lips. they half nearly the whole circumference of his field circled about each other tentatively, snarl- of vision. he was afraid of them. they ing and bristling. this lasted several min- loomed ominously above him; and when utes, and white fang was beginning to the breeze stirred them into huge move enjoy it, as a sort of game. but suddenly, ments he cowered down in fear, keeping his with remarkable swiftness, lip-lip leaped white fang in, delivered a slashing snap, and leaped bursting out in an astonished explosion of away again. the snap had taken effect on ki-yi's. at the sound, kiche leaped snarl- the shoulder that had been hurt by the ing to the end of her stick, and there raged lynx and that was still sore deep down near terribly because she could not come to his the bone. the surprise and hurt of it aid. but gray beaver laughed loudly, and brought a yelp out of white fang; but the slapped his thighs, and told the happening next moment, in a rush of anger, he was to all the rest of the camp, till everybody upon lip-lip and snapping viciously. was laughing uproariously. but white but lip-lip had lived his life in camp and fang sat on his haunches and ki-yi'd and had fought many puppy fights. three ki-yi'd, a forlorn and pitiable little figure times, four times, and half a dozen times in the midst of the man-animals. his sharp little teeth scored on the new it was the worst hurt he had ever known. comer, until white fang, yelping shame both nose and tongue had been scorched lessly, fled to the protection of his mother. by the live thing, sun-colored, that had it was the first of the many fights he was to grown up under gray beaver's hands. he have with lip-lip, for they were enemies cried and cried interminably, and every from the start, born so, with natures des fresh wail was greeted by bursts of laughter tined perpetually to clash. on the part of the man-animals. he tried kiche licked white fang soothingly with to soothe his nose with his tongue, but the her tongue, and tried to prevail upon him tongue was burnt, too, and the two hurts to remain with her. but his curiosity coming together produced greater hurt; was rampant, and several minutes later he whereupon he cried more hopelessly and was venturing forth on a new quest. he helplessly than ever. came upon one of the man-animals, gray and then shame came to him. he knew beaver, who was squatting on his hams and laughter and the meaning of it. it is not doing something with sticks and dry moss given us to know how some animals know spread before him on the ground. white laughter and know when they are being fang came near to him and watched. gray laughed at; but it was this same way that beaver made mouth-noises which white white fang knew it. and he felt shame fang interpreted as not hostile, so he came that the man-animals should be laughing still nearer. at him. he turned and fled away, not women and children were carrying more from the hurt of the fire, but from the sticks and branches to gray beaver. it laughter that sank even deeper and hurt was evidently an affair of moment. white in the spirit of him. and he fled to kiche, fang came in until he touched gray bea raging at the end of her stick like an animal ver's knee, so curious was he and already gone mad—to kiche, the one creature in forgetful that this was a terrible man-ani the world who was not laughing at him. mal. suddenly he saw a strange thing like twilight drew down and night came on, mist beginning to arise from the sticks and and white fang lay by his mother's side. moss beneath gray beaver's hands. then, his nose and tongue still hurt, but he was amongst the sticks themselves, appeared perplexed by a greater trouble. he was a live thing, twisting and turning, of a color homesick. he felt a vacancy in him, a like the color of the sun in the sky. white need for the hush and quietude of the fang knew nothing about fire. it drew stream and the cave in the cliff. life had him as the light in the mouth of the cave become too populous. there were so many had drawn him in his early puppyhood. of the man-animals, men, women and chil- he crawled the several steps toward the dren, all making noises and irritations. flame. he heard gray beaver chuckle and there were the dogs, ever squabbling above him, and he knew the sound was not and bickering, bursting into uproars and hostile. then his nose touched the flame, creating confusions. the restful loneliness and at the same instant his little tongue of the only life he had known was gone. went out to it. here the very air was palpitant with life. for a moment he was paralyzed. the it hummed and buzzed unceasingly. con- unknown, lurking in the midst of the tinually changing its intensity and abruptly sticks and moss, was savagely clutching variant in pitch, it impinged on his nerves him by the nose. he scrambled backward, and senses, made him nervous and restless the outing magazine the bondage and worried him with a perpetual immi tial, passionate and wrathful and loving, nence of happening. god and mystery and power all wrapped he watched the man-animals coming and up and around by flesh that bleeds when going and moving about the camp. in it is torn and that is good to eat like any fashion distantly resembling the way men flesh. look upon the gods they create, so looked and so it was with white fang. the white fang upon the man-animals before man-animals were gods unmistakable and him. they were superior creatures, of a unescapable. as his mother, kiche, had verity gods. to his dim comprehension rendered her allegiance to them at the first they were as much wonder-workers as gods cry of her name, so he was beginning to are to men. they were creatures of mas render his allegiance. he gave them the tery, possessing all manner of unknown and trail as a privilege indubitably theirs. impossible potencies, overlords of the alive when they walked, he got out of their way. and the not alive — making obey that when they called, he came. when they which moved, imparting movement to that threatened, he cowered down. when they which did not move, and making life, sun commanded him to go, he went away hur- colored and biting life, to grow out of dead riedly for behind any wish of theirs was moss and wood. they were fire-makers! power to enforce that wish, power that they were gods! hurt, power that expressed itself in clouts and clubs, in flying stones and stinging lashes of whips. chapter ii he belonged to them as all dogs belonged to them. his actions were theirs to com- mand. his body was theirs to maul, to the days were thronged with experience stamp upon, to tolerate. such was the for white fang. during the time that lesson that was quickly borne in upon him. kiche was tied by the stick, he ran about it came hard, going as it did counter to over all the camp, inquiring, investigating much that was strong and dominant in his learning. he quickly came to know much own nature; and, while he disliked it in of the ways of the man-animals, but famil the learning of it, unknown to himself he iarity did not breed contempt. the more was learning to like it. it was a placing he came to know them, the more they vin of his destiny in another's hands, a shifting dicated their superiority, the more they of the responsibilities of existence. this displayed their mysterious powers, the in itself was compensation, for it is always greater loomed their god-likeness. easier to lean upon another than to stand to man has been given the grief, often, alone. of seeing his gods overthrown and his altars but it did not all happen in a day, this crumbling; but to the wolf and the wild giving over of himself, body and soul, to dog that have come in to crouch at man's the man-animals. he could not immedi- feet this grief has never come. unlike ately forego his wild heritage and his mem- man, whose gods are of the unseen and the ories of the wild. there were days when over-guessed, vapors and mists of fancy he crept to the edge of the forest and stood eluding the garmenture of reality, wander and listened to something calling him far ing wraiths of desired goodness and power, and always he returned, rest- intangible out-croppings of self into the less and uncomfortable, to whimper softly realm of spirit-unlike man, the wolf and and wistfully at kiche's side and to lick the wild dog that have come in to the fire her face with eager, questioning tongue. find their gods in the living flesh, solid to whi e fang learned rapidly the ways of the touch, occupying earth-space and re the camp. he knew the injustice and greed- quiring time for the accomplishment of iness of the older dogs when meat or fish their ends and their existence. no effort was thrown out to be eaten. he came to of faith is necessary to believe in such a know that men were more just, children god; no effort of will can possibly induce more cruel, and women more kindly and disbelief in such a god. there is no getting more likely to toss him a bit of meat or away from it. there it stands, on its two bone. and after two or three painful ad- hind legs, club in hand, immensely poten ventures with the mothers of part-grown and away. white fang he was puppies, he came into the knowledge that tion that he played his first really big it was always good policy to let such moth- crafty game and got therefrom his first taste ers alone, to keep away from them as far of revenge. as kiche, when with the as possible, and to avoid them when he wolves, had lured out to destruction dogs saw them coming. from the camps of men, so white fang, but the bane of his life was lip-lip. in manner somewhat similar, lured lip- larger, older and stronger, lip-lip had lip into kiche's avenging jaws. retreating selected white fang for his special object before lip-lip, white fang made an in- of persecution. white fang fought will direct flight that led in and out and around ingly enough, but he was outclassed. his the various tepees of 'the camp. enemy was too big. lip-lip became a a good runner, swifter than any puppy of nightmare to him. whenever he ventured his size, and swifter than lip-lip. but he away from his mother, the bully was sure did not run his best in this chase. he to appear, trailing at his heels, snarling at barely held his own, one leap ahead of his him, picking upon him, and watchful of an pursuer. opportunity, when no man-animal was lip-lip, excited by the chase and by the near, to spring upon him and force a fight. persistent nearness of his victim, forgot as lip-lip invariably won, he enjoyed it caution and locality. when he remem- hugely. it became his chief delight in life, bered locality, it was too late. dashing at as it became white fang's chief torment. top speed around a tepee, he ran full tilt but the effect upon white fang was not into kiche lying at the end of her stick. to cow him. though he suffered most of he gave one yelp of consternation, and the damage and was always defeated, his then her punishing jaws closed upon him. spirit remained unsubdued. yet a bad she was tied, but he could not get away effect was produced. he became malig- from her easily. she rolled him off his nant and morose. his temper had been legs so that he could not run, while she re- savage by birth, but it became more savage peatedly ripped and slashed him with her under this unending persecution. the gen- fangs. ial, playful, puppyish side of him found when at last he succeeded in rolling clear little expression. he never played and of her, he crawled to his feet, badly dis- gamboled about with the other puppies of heveled, hurt both in body and in spirit. the camp. lip-lip would not permit it. his hair was standing out all over him in the moment white fang appeared near tufts where her teeth had mauled. he them lip-lip was upon him, bullying and stood where he had arisen, opened his hectoring him, or fighting with him until mouth, and broke out the long, heart- he had driven him away. broken puppy wail. but even this he was the effect of all this was to rob white not allowed to complete. in the middle fang of much of his puppyhood and to of it white fang, rushing in, sank his make him in his comportment older than teeth into lip-lip's hind leg. there was his age. denied the outlet, through play, no fight left in lip-lip, and he ran away of his energies, he recoiled upon himself and shamelessly, his victim hot on his heels and developed his mental processes. he be worrying him all the way back to his own came cunning; he had idle time in which tepee. here the squaws came to his aid, to devote himself to thoughts of trickery. and white fang, transformed into a rag- prevented from obtaining his share of meat ing demon, was finally driven off only by and fish when a general feed was given to a fusillade of stones. the camp dogs, he became a clever thief. came the day when gray beaver, de- he had to forage for himself, and he foraged ciding that the liability of her running well, though he was ofttimes a plague to away was past, released kiche. white the squaws in consequence. he learned to fang was delighted with his mother's free- sneak about camp, to be crafty, to know dom. he accompanied her joyfully about what was going on everywhere, to see and the camp; and, so long as he remained to hear everything and to reason accord close by her side, lip-lip kept a respectful ingly, and successfully to devise ways and distance. white fang even bristled up to means of avoiding his implacable persecu him and walked stiff-legged, but lip-lip tor. it was early in the days of his persecu ignored the challenge. he was no fool the outing magazine himself, and whatever vengeance he de cartridges and kiche went to pay the sired to wreak could wait until he caught debt. white fang saw his mother taken white fang alone. aboard three eagles' canoe, and tried to later on that day, kiche and white follow her. a blow from three eagles fang strayed into the edge of the woods knocked him backward to the land. the next to the camp. he had led his mother canoe shoved off. he sprang into the there, step by step, and now, when she water and swam after it, deaf to the sharp stopped, he tried to inveigle her farther. cries of gray beaver to return. even a the stream, the lair and the quiet woods man-animal, a god, white fang ignored, were calling to him, and he wanted her to such was the terror he was in of losing his come. he ran on a few steps, stopped, mother. and looked back. she had not moved. but gods are accustomed to being obeyed, he whined pleadingly, and scurried play- and gray beaver wrathfully launched a fully in and out of the underbrush. he ran canoe in pursuit. when he overtook back to her, licked her face, and ran on white fang, he reached down and by the again. and still she did not move. he nape of the neck lifted him clear of the stopped and regarded her, all of an intent water. he did not deposit him at once in ness and eagerness, physically expressed, the bottom of the canoe. holding him that slowly faded out of him as she turned suspended with one hand, with the other her head and gazed back at the camp. hand he proceeded to give him a beating. there was something calling to him out and it was a beating. his hand was heavy. there in the open. · his mother heard it, every blow was shrewd to hurt; and he too. but she heard also that other and delivered a multitude of blows. louder call, the call of the fire and of man impelled by the blows that rained upon the call which has been given alone of all him, now from this side, now from that, animals to the wolf to answer, to the wolf white fang swung back and forth like an and the wild dog, who are brothers. erratic and jerky pendulum. varying were kiche turned and slowly trotted back the emotions that surged through him. at toward camp. stronger than the physical first he had known surprise. then came a restraint of the stick was the clutch of the momentary fear, when he yelped several camp upon her. unseen and occultly, the times to the impact of the hand. but this gods still gripped with their power and was quickly followed by anger. his free would not let her go. white fang sat nature asserted itself, and he showed his down in the shadow of a birch and whim teeth and snarled fearlessly in the face of pered softly. there was a strong smell of the wrathful god. this but served to make pine, and subtle wood fragrances filled the the god more wrathful. the blows came air, reminding him of his old life of freedom faster, heavier, more shrewd to hurt. before the days of his bondage. but he gray beaver continued to beat, white was still only a part-grown puppy, and fang continued to snarl. but this could stronger than the call either of man or of not last forever. one or the other must the wild, was the call of his mother. all give over, and that one was white fang. the hours of his short life he had depended fear surged through him again. for the upon her. the time was yet to come for first time he was being really man-handled. independence. so he arose and trotted the occasional blows of sticks and stones he forlornly back to camp, pausing once, and had previously experienced were as caresses twice, to sit down and whimper and to compared with this. he broke down and listen to the call that still sounded in the began to cry and yelp. for a time each depths of the forest. blow brought a yelp from him; but fear in the wild the time of a mother with passed into terror, until finally his yelps her young is short; but under the dominion were voiced in unbroken succession, un- of man it is sometimes even shorter. thus connected with the rhythm of the punish- it was with white fang. gray beaver ment. at last gray beaver withheld his was in the debt of three eagles. three hand. white fang, hanging limply, con- eagles was going away on a trip up the tinued to cry. this seemed to satisfy his mackenzie to the great slave lake. a master, who flung him down roughly in the strip of scarlet cloth, a bearskin, twenty bottom of the canoe. in the meantime white fang the canoe had drifted down the stream. the edge of the woods by himself, he gave gray beaver picked up the paddle. white rein to his grief, and cried it out with loud fang was in his way. he spurned him say whimperings and wailings. agely with his foot. in that moment white it was during this period that he might fang's free nature flashed forth again, and have hearkened to the memories of the he sank his teeth into the moccasined foot. lair and the stream and run back to the the beating that had gone before was as wild. but the memory of his mother held nothing compared with the beating he now him. as the hunting man-animals went received. gray beaver's wrath was ter out and came back, so she would come rible; likewise was white fang's fright. back to the village some time. so he re- not only the hand, but the hard wooden mained in his bondage, waiting for her. paddle was used upon him; and he was but it was not altogether an unhappy bruised and sore in all his small body when bondage. there was much to interest him. he was again flung down in the canoe. something was always happening. there again, and this time with purpose, did was no end to the strange things these gods gray beaver kick him. white fang did did, and he was always curious to see. be- not repeat his attack on the foot. he had sides, he was learning how to get along with learned another lesson of his bondage. gray beaver. obedience--rigid, undevi- never, no matter what the circumstance, ating obedience, was what was exacted of must he dare to bite the god who was lord him; and in return he escaped beatings and and master over him; the body of the lord his existence was tolerated. and master was sacred, not to be defiled by nay, gray beaver himself sometimes the teeth of such as he. that was evidently tossed him a piece of meat, and defended the crime of crimes, the one offense there him against the other dogs in the eating was no condoning nor overlooking. of it. and such a piece of meat was of when the canoe touched the shore, white value. it was worth more, in some strange fang lay whimpering and motionless, wait way, than a dozen pieces of meat from ing the will of gray beaver. it was gray the hand of a squaw. gray beaver never beaver's will that he should go ashore, for petted nor caressed. perhaps it was the ashore he was flung, striking heavily on his weight of his hand, perhaps his justice, per- side and hurting his bruises afresh. he haps the sheer power of him, and perhaps crawled tremblingly to his feet and stood it was all these things that influenced white whimpering. lip-lip, who had watched fang; for a certain tie of attachment was the whole proceeding from the bank, now forming between him and his surly lord. rushed upon him, knocking him over and insidiously and by remote ways, as well sinking his teeth into him. white fang as by the power of stick and stone and was too helpless to defend himself, and it clout of hand, were the shackles of white would have gone hard with him had not fang's bondage being riveted upon him. gray beaver's foot shot out, lifting lip-lip the qualities in his kind that in the begin- into the air with its violence so that he ning made it possible for them to come in smashed down to earth a dozen feet away. to the fires of men were qualities capable this was the man-animal's justice; and of development. they were developing even then, in his own pitiable plight, white in him, and the camp life, replete with fang experienced a little grateful thrill. misery as it was, was secretly endearing at gray beaver's heels he limped obedi itself to him all the time. but white fang ently through the village to the tepee. was unaware of it. he knew only grief for and so it came that white fang learned the loss of kiche, hope for her return and that the right to punish was something the a hungry yearning for the free life that had gods reserved for themselves and denied been his. to the lesser creatures under them. that night, when all was still, white chapter iii fang remembered his mother and sorrowed the outcast for her. he sorrowed too loudly and woke up gray beaver, who beat him. after that lip-lip continued so to darken his days he mourned gently when the gods were that white fang became wickeder and more around. but sometimes, straying off to ferocious than it was his natural right to the outing magazine be. savageness was a part of his make-up, preliminaries. delay meant the coming but the savageness thus developed ex against him of all the young dogs. he ceeded his make-up. he acquired a repu must do his work quickly and get away. tation for wickedness amongst the man so he learned to give no warning of his in- animals themselves. wherever there was tention. he rushed in and snapped and trouble and uproar in camp, fighting and slashed on the instant, without notice, be- squabbling or the outcry of a squaw over fore his foe could prepare to meet him. a bit of stolen meat, they were sure to find thus he learned how to inflict quick and white fang mixed up in it and usually at severe damage. also he learned the value the bottom of it. they did not bother to of surprise. a dog taken off its guard, look after the causes of his conduct. they its shoulder slashed open or its ear ripped saw only the effects, and the effects were in ribbons before it knew what was hap- bad. he was a sneak and a thieſ, a mis- pening, was a dog half whipped. chief-maker, a fomenter of trouble; and furthermore, it was remarkably easy to irate squaws told him to his face, the while overthrow a dog taken by surprise; while he eyed them alert and ready to dodge any a dog, thus overthrown, invariably ex- quick-flung missile, that he was a wolf posed for a moment the soft under side of and worthless and bound to come to an evil its neck—the vulnerable point at which to end. strike for its life. white fang knew this he found himself an outcast in the midst point. it was a knowledge bequeathed to of the populous camp. all the young dogs him directly from the hunting generations followed lip-lip's lead. there was a dif of wolves. so it was that white fang's ference between white fang and them. method, when he took the offensive, was: perhaps they sensed his wild-wood breed, first, to find a young dog alone; second, to and instinctively felt for him the enmity surprise it and knock it off its feet; and, that the domestic dog feels for the wolf. third, to drive in with his teeth at the soft but be that as it may, they joined with throat. lip-lip in the persecution. and, once de being but partly grown, his jaws had not clared against him, they found good reason yet become large enough nor strong enough to continue declared against him. one to make his throat-attack deadly; but and all, from time to time, they felt his many a young dog went around camp with teeth; and to his credit, he gave more than a lacerated throat in token of white fang's he received. many of them he could whip intention. and one day, catching one of in single fight; but single fight was denied his enemies alone on the edge of the woods, him. the beginning of such a fight was a he managed, by repeatedly overthrowing signal for all the young dogs in camp to him and attacking the throat, to cut the come running and pitch upon him. great vein and let out the life. there was out of this pack persecution he learned a great row that night. he had been ob- two important things: how to take care of served, the news had been carried to the himself in a mass-fight against him; and dead dog's master, the squaws remembered how, on a single dog, to inflict the greatest all the instances of stolen meat, and gray amount of damage in the briefest space of beaver was beset by many angry voices. time. to keep one's feet in the midst of but he resolutely held the door of his tepee. the hostile mass meant life, and this he inside which he had placed the culprit, and learned well. he became cat-like in his refused to permit the vengeance for which ability to stay on his feet. even grown his tribespeople clamored. dogs might hurtle him backward or side white fang became hated by man and ways with the impact of their heavy bodies, dog. during this period of his develop- and backward or sideways he would go, ment he never knew a moment's security. in the air or sliding on the ground, but al the tooth of every dog was against him, ways with his legs under him and his feet the hand of every man. he was greeted downward to the mother earth. with snarls by his kind, with curses and when dogs fight there are usually pre stones by his gods. he lived tensely. he liminaries to the actual combat-snarlings was always keyed up, alert for attack, wary and bristlings and stiff-legged struttings. of being attacked, with an eye for sudden but white fang learned to omit these and unexpected missiles, prepared to act white fang precipitately and coolly, to leap in with a and thoroughly to rip him up before the flash of teeth, or to leap away with a men pack could arrive. this occurred with acing snarl. great frequency, for, once in full cry, the as for snarling, he could snarl more ter dogs were prone to forget themselves in the ribly than any dog, young or old, in camp. excitement of the chase, while white fang the intent of the snarl is to warn or frighten, never forgot himself. stealing backward and judgment is required to know when it glances as he ran, he was always ready to should be used. white fang knew how whirl around and down the over-zealous to make it and when to make it. into his pursuer that outran his fellows. snarl he incorporated all that was vicious, young dogs are bound to play, and out malignant and horrible. with nose serru of the exigencies of the situation they real- lated by continuous spasms, hair bristling ized their play in this mimic warfare. in recurrent waves, tongue whipping out thus it was that the hunt of white fang like a red snake and whipping back again, became their chief game-a deadly game, ears flattened down, eyes gleaming hatred, withal, and at all times a serious game. lips wrinkled back, and fangs exposed and he, on the other hand, being the fastest- dripping, he could compel a pause on the footed, was unafraid to venture anywhere. part of almost any assailant. a tem during the period that he waited vainly for porary pause, when taken off his guard, his mother to come back, he led the pack gave him the vital moment in which to many a wild chase through the adjacent think and determine his action. but often woods. but the pack invariably lost him. a pause so gained lengthened out until it its noise and outcry warned him of its evolved into a complete cessation from the presence, while he ran alone, velvet-footed, attack. and before more than one of the silently, a moving shadow among the trees, grown dogs, white fang's snarl enabled after the manner of his father and mother him to beat an honorable retreat. before him. further, he was more di- an outcast himself from the pack of the rectly connected with the wild than they; part-grown dogs, his sanguinary methods and he knew more of its secrets and strat- and remarkable efficiency made the pack agems. a favorite trick of his was to lose pay for its persecution of him. not per his trail in running water and then lie mitted himself to run with the pack, the quietly in a near-by thicket while their curious state of affairs obtained that no baffled cries arose around him. member of the pack could run outside the hated by his kind and by mankind, in- pack. white fang would not permit it. domitable, perpetually warred upon and what of his bushwhacking and waylaying himself waging perpetual war, his develop- tactics, the young dogs were afraid to run ment was rapid and one-sided. this was by themselves. with the exception of no soil for kindliness and affection to blos- lip-lip, they were compelled to hunch to som in. of such things he had not the gether for mutual protection against the faintest glimmering. the code he learned terrible enemy they had made. a puppy was to obey the strong and to oppress the alone by the river bank meant a puppy weak. gray beaver was a god, and strong. dead or a puppy that aroused the camp therefore, white fang obeyed him. but with its shrill pain and terror as it fled back the dog younger or smaller than himself from the wolf-cub that had waylaid it. was weak, a thing to be destroyed. his but white fang's reprisals did not cease, development was in the direction of power. even when the young dogs had learned in order to face the constant danger of hurt thoroughly that they must stay together. and even of destruction, his predatory and he attacked them when he caught them protective faculties were unduly developed. alone, and they attacked him when they he became quicker of movement than the were bunched. the sight of him was suffi other dogs, swifter of foot, craftier, deadlier, cient to start them rushing after him, at more lithe, more lean with iron-like muscle which times his swiftness usually carried and sinew, more enduring, more cruel, more him into safety. but woe the dog that ferocious and more intelligent. he had to outran his fellows in such pursuit! white become all these things, else he would not fang had learned to turn suddenly upon have held his own nor survived the hostile the pursuer that was ahead of the pack environment in which he found himself. the outing magazine chapter iv the camp again, the tepees, and the blaze of the fires. he heard the shrill voices of the trail of the gods the women, the gruff basses of the men, and in the fall of the year, when the days the snarling of the dogs. he was hungry, were shortening and the bite of the frost and he remembered pieces of meat and fish was coming into the air, white fang got his that had been thrown him. here vas no chance for liberty. for several days there meat, nothing but a threatening and in- had been a great hubbub in the village. edible silence. the summer camp was being dismantled, his bondage had softened him. irre- and the tribe, bag and baggage, was pre sponsibility had weakened him. he had paring to go off to the fall hunting. white forgotten how to shift for himself. the fang watched it all with eager eyes, and night yawned about him. his senses, ac- when the tepees began to come down and customed to the hum and bustle of the the canoes were loading at the bank, he camp, used to the continuous impact of understood. already the canoes were de sights and sounds, were now left idle. parting, and some had disappeared down there was nothing to do, nothing to see the river. nor hear. they strained to catch some in- quite deliberately he determined to stay terruption of the silence and immobility behind. he waited his opportunity to of nature. they were appalled by inac- slink out of camp to the woods. here, in tion and by the feel of something terrible the running stream where ice was beginning impending. to form, he hid his trail. then he crawled he gave a great start of fright. a co- into the heart of a dense thicket and lossal and formless something was rushing waited. the time passed by, and he slept across the field of his vision. it was a tree intermittently for hours. then he was shadow flung by the moon, from whose aroused by gray beaver's voice calling him face the clouds had been brushed away. by name. there were other voices. white reassured, he whimpered softly; then he fang could hear gray beaver's squaw tak- suppressed the whimper for fear that it ing part in the search, and mit-sah, who might attract the attention of the lurking was gray beaver's son. dangers. white fang trembled with fear, and • a tree, contracting in the cool of the though the impulse came to crawl out of night, made a loud noise. it was directly his hiding-place, he resisted it. after a above him. he yelped in his fright. a time the voices died away, and some time panic seized him and he ran madly toward after that he crept out to enjoy the success the village. he knew an overpowering of his undertaking. darkness was coming desire for the protection and companion- on, and for a while he played about among ship of man. in his nostrils was the smell the trees, pleasuring in his freedom. then, of the camp smoke. in his ears the camp and quite suddenly, he became aware of sounds and cries were ringing loud. he loneliness. he sat down to consider, lis passed out of the forest and into the moon- tening to the silence of the forest and per lit open where were no shadows nor dark- turbed by it. that nothing moved nor but no village greeted his eyes. sounded seemed ominous. he felt the he had forgotten. the village had gone lurking of danger, unseen and unguessed. away. he was suspicious of the looming bulks of his wild flight ceased abruptly. there the trees and of the dark shadows that was no place to which to flee. he slunk might conceal all manner of perilous things. forlornly through the deserted camp, smell- then it was cold. here was no warm ing the rubbish heaps and the discarded side of a tepee against which to snuggle. rags and tags of the gods. he would have the frost was in his feet, and he kept lift been glad for the rattle of stones about ing first one fore-foot and then the other. him flung by an angry squaw, glad for the he curved his bushy tail around to cover hand of gray beaver descending upon him them, and at the same time he saw a vi in wrath; while he would have welcomed sion. there was nothing strange about it. with delight lip-lip and the whole snarling, upon his inward sight was impressed a cowardly pack. succession of memory pictures. he saw he came to where gray beaver's tepee nesses. white fang had stood. in the center of the space it weak with hunger. the repeated drench- had occupied he sat down. he pointed .ings in the icy water had likewise had their his nose at the moon. his throat was effect on him. his handsome coat was afflicted by rigid spasms, his mouth opened, draggled. the broad pads of his feet were and in a heart-broken cry bubbled up his bruised and bleeding. he had begun to loneliness and fear, his grief for kiche, all limp, and this limpincreased with the hours. his past sorrows and miseries as well as to make it worse, the light of the sky was his apprehension of sufferings and dangers obscured and snow began to fall-a raw, to come. it was the long wolf-howl, full moist, melting, clinging snow, slippery un- throated and mournful, the first howl he der foot, that hid from him the landscape had ever uttered. he traversed, and that covered over the the coming of daylight dispelled his inequalities of the ground so that the way fears, but increased his loneliness. the of his feet was more difficult and painful. naked earth, which so shortly before had gray beaver had intended camping that been so populous, thrust his loneliness night on the far bank of the mackenzie, for more forcibly upon him. it did not take it was in that direction that the hunting him long to make up his mind. he plunged lay. but on the near bank, shortly before into the forest and followed the river bank dark, a moose, coming down to drink, had down the stream. all day he ran. he been espied by kloo-kooch, who was gray did not rest. he seemed made to run on beaver's squaw. now, had not the moose forever. his iron-like body ignored fa come down to drink, had not mit-sah been tigue. and even after fatigue came, his steering out of the course because of the heritage of endurance braced him to end snow, had not kloo-kooch sighted the less endeavor and enabled him to drive his moose, and had not gray beaver killed it complaining body onward. with a lucky shot from his rifle, all sub- where the river swung in against pre- sequent things would have happened dif- cipitous bluffs, he climbed the high moun ferently. gray beaver would not have tains behind. rivers and streams that camped on the near side of the mackenzie, entered the main river he forded or swam. and white fang would have passed by often he took to the rim-ice that was be and gone on, either to die or to find his ginning to form, and more than once he way to his wild brothers and become one crashed through and struggled for life in of them, a wolf to the end of his days. the icy current. always he was on the night had fallen. the snow was flying lookout for the trail of the gods where it more thickly, and white fang, whimpering might leave the river and proceed inland. softly to himself as he stumbled and limped white fang was intelligent beyond the along, came upon a fresh trail in the snow. average of his kind; yet his mental vision so fresh was it that he knew it immediately was not wide enough to embrace the other for what it was. whining with eagerness, bank of the mackenzie. what if the trail he followed back from the river bank and of the gods led out on that side? it never in among the trees. the camp sounds entered his head. later on, when he had came to his ears. he saw the blaze of the traveled more and grown older and wiser fire, kloo-kooch cooking, and gray beaver and come to know more of trails and rivers, squatting on his hams and mumbling a it might be that he could grasp and appre chunk of raw tallow. there was fresh hend such a possibility. but that mental meat in camp! power was yet in the future. just now he white fang expected a beating. he ran blindly, his own bank of the mackenzie crouched and bristled a little at the thought alone entering into his calculations. of it. then he went forward again. he all night he ran, blundering in the dark feared and disliked the beating he knew ness into mishaps and obstacles that de to be waiting for him. but he knew, layed but did not daunt. by the middle further, that the comfort of the fire would of the second day he had been running be his, the protection of the gods, the continuously for thirty hours, and the iron companionship of the dogs — the last a of his flesh was giving out. it was the en companionship of enmity, but none the durance of his mind that kept him going. less a companionship and satisfying to his he had not eaten in forty hours and he was gregarious needs. the outing magazine he came cringing and crawling into white fang had seen the camp dogs the firelight. gray beaver saw him and toiling in the harness, so that he did not stopped munching the tallow. white fang resent over-much the first placing of the crawled slowly, cringing and groveling in harness upon himself. about his neck was the abjectness of his abasement and sub put a moss-stuffed collar, which was con- mission. he crawled straight toward gray nected by two pulling-traces to a strap beaver, every inch of his progress becom that passed around his chest and over his ing slower and more painful. at last he back. it was to this that was fastened the lay at the master's feet, into whose posses- long rope by which he pulled at the sled. sion he now surrendered himself, volun there were seven puppies in the team. tarily, body and soul. of his own choice, the others had been born earlier in the he came in to sit by man's fire and to be year and were nine and ten months old, ruled by him. white fang trembled, while white fang was only eight months waiting for the punishment to fall upon old. each dog was fastened to the sled by him. there was a movement of the hand a single rope. no two ropes were of the above him. he cringed involuntarily un same length, while the difference in length der the expected blow. it did not fall. between any two ropes was at least that he stole a glance upward. gray beaver of a dog's body. every rope was brought was breaking the lump of tallow in half! to a ring at the front end of the sled. the gray beaver was offering him one piece of sled itself was without runners, being a the tallow! very gently and somewhat birch-bark toboggan, with up-turned for- suspiciously, he first smelled the tallow and ward end to keep it from plowing under then proceeded to eat it. gray beaver the snow. this construction enabled the ordered meat to be brought to him, and weight of the sled and load to be distributed guarded him from the other dogs while over the largest snow surface; for the snow he ate. after that, grateful and content, was crystal powder and very soft. ob- white fang lay at gray beaver's feet, serving the same principle of widest dis- gazing at the fire that warmed him, blink tribution of weight, the dogs, at the ends ing and dozing, secure in the knowledge of their ropes, radiated fan-fashion from that the morrow would find him, not the nose of the sled, so that no dog trod in wandering forlorn through bleak forest another's footsteps. stretches, but in the camp of the man there was, furthermore, another virtue animals, with the gods to whom he had in the fan formation. the ropes of vary- given himself and upon whom he was now ing length prevented the dogs attack- dependent. ing from the rear those that ran in front of them. for a dog to attack another, it chapter v would have to turn upon one at a shorter rope, in which case it would find itself face to face with the dog attacked, and when december was well along, gray also it would find itself facing the whip beaver went on a journey up the macken of the driver. but the most peculiar virtue zie. mit-sah and kloo-kooch went with of all lay in the fact that the dog that him. one sled he drove himself, drawn by strove to attack one in front of him must dogs he had traded for or borrowed. a pull the sled faster, and the faster the second and smaller sled was driven by mit sled traveled the faster could the dog at- sah, and to this was harnessed a team of tacked run away. thus the dog behind puppies. it was more of a toy affair than could never catch up with the one in front.- anything else, yet it was the delight of mit the faster he ran the faster ran the one he sah, who felt that he was beginning to do was after, and the faster ran all the dogs. a man's work in the world. also, he was incidentally the sled went faster, and thus, learning to drive dogs and to train dogs; by cunning indirection, did man increase while the puppies themselves were being his mastery over the beasts. broken in to the harness. furthermore, mit-sah resembled his father, much of the sled was of some service, for it carried whose gray wisdom he possessed. in the nearly two hundred pounds of outfit and past he had observed lip-lip's persecution food, of white fang; but at that time lip-lip the covenant - -- white fang was another man's dog, and mit-sah had pack less to him in the scheme of thirgs, never dared more than to shy an occasional and man more. he had not learned to be stone at him. but now lip-lip was his dependent on his kind for companionship. dog, and he proceeded to wreak his venge besides, kiche was well-nigh forgotten; ance on him by putting him at the end and the chief outlet of expression that re- of the longest rope. this made lip-lip the mained to him was in the allegiance he leader, and was apparently an honor; but tendered the gods he had accepted as in reality it took away from him all honor, masters. so he worked hard, learned dis- and instead of being bully and master of cipline and was obedient. faithfulness and the pack he now found himself hated and willingness characterized his toil. these persecuted by the pack. are essential traits of the wolf and the because he ran at the end of the longest wild dog when they have become domes- rope, the dogs had always the view of him ticated, and these traits white fang pos- running away before them. all that they sessed in unusual measure. saw of him was his bushy tail and fleeing a companionship did exist between hind legs-a view far less ferocious and white fang and the other dogs, but it was intimidating than his bristling mane and one of warfare and enmity. he had never gleaming fangs. also, dogs being so con learned to play with them. he knew only stituted in their mental ways, the sight of how to fight, and fight with them he did, him running away gave desire to run after returning to them a hundred-fold the snaps him and a feeling that he ran away from and slashes they had given him in the days them. when lip-lip was leader of the pack. but the moment the sled started, the team lip-lip was no longer leader-except when took after lip-lip in a chase that extended he fled away before his mates at the end of throughout the day. at first he had been his rope, the sled bounding along behind. prone to turn upon his pursuers, jealous of in camp he kept close to mit-sah or gray his dignity and wrathful; but at such times beaver or kloo-kooch. he did not dare mit-sah would throw the stinging lash of venture away from the gods, for now the the thirty-foot cariboo-gut whip into his fangs of all dogs were against him, and he face and compel him to turn tail and run tasted to the dregs the persecution that on. lip-lip might face the pack, but he had been white fang's. could not face that whip, and all that was with the overthrow of lip-lip, white left him to do was to keep his long rope fang could have become leader of the pack. taut and his flanks ahead of the teeth of but he was too morose and solitary for his mates. that. he merely thrashed his team-mates. but a still greater cunning lurked in the otherwise he ignored them. they got out recesses of the indian mind. to give point of his way when he came along; nor did the to unending pursuit of the leader, mit-sah boldest of them ever dare to rob him of his favored him over the other dogs. these meat. on the contrary, they devoured favors aroused in them jealousy and hatred. their own meat hurriedly, for fear that he in their presence mit-sah would give him would take it away from them. white meat and would give it to him only. this fang knew the law well: to oppress the was maddening to them. they would rage weak and obey the strong. he ate his share around just outside the throwing distance of meat as rapidly as he could. and then of the whip, while lip-lip devoured the woe the dog that had not yet finished! a meat and mit-sah protected him. and snarl and a nash of fangs, and that dog when there was no meat to give, mit-sah would wail his indignation to the uncom- would keep the team at a distance and forting stars while white fang finished his make believe to give meat to lip-lip. portion for him. white fang took kindly to the work. every little while, however, one dog or he had traveled a greater distance than another would flame up in revolt and be the other dogs in the yielding of himself promptly subdued. thus white fang was to the rule of the gods, and he had learned kept in training. he was jealous of the more thoroughly the futility of opposing isolation in which he kept himself in the their will. in addition, the persecution he midst of the pack, and he fought often to had suffered from the pack had made the maintain it. but such fights were of brief the outing magazine their way. duration. he was too quick for the others. fang's being that made this lordship a they were slashed open and bleeding be- thing to be desired, else he would not have fore they knew what had happened, were come back from the wild when he did to whipped almost before they had begun to tender his allegiance. there were deeps in fight. his nature which had never been sounded. as rigid as the sled discipline of the gods a kind word, a caressing touch of the hand, was the discipline maintained by white on the part of gray beaver, might have fang amongst his fellows. he never allowed sounded these deeps; but gray beaver did them any latitude. he compelled them not caress nor speak kind words. it was not to an unremitting respect for him. they his way. his primacy was savage, and sav- might do as they pleased amongst them- agely he ruled, administering justice with selves. that was no concern of his. but a club, punishing transgression with the it was his concern that they leave him alone pain of a blow, and rewarding merit, not in his isolation, get out of his way when he by kindness, but by withholding a blow. elected to walk among them, and at all so white fang knew nothing of the times acknowledge his mastery over them. heaven a man's hand might contain for a hint of stiff-leggedness on their part, him. besides, he did not like the hands a lifted lip or a bristle of hair, and he of the man-animals. he was suspicious would be upon them, merciless and cruel, of them. it was true that they sometimes swiftly convincing them of the error of gave meat, but more often they gave hurt. hands were things to keep away from. he was a monstrous tyrant. his mas they burled stones, wielded sticks and tery was rigid as steel. he oppressed the clubs and whips, administered slaps and weak with a vengeance. not for nothing clouts, and, when they touched him, were had he been exposed to the pitiless struggle cunning to hurt with pinch and twist and for life in the days of his cubhood, when wrench, in strange villages he had en- his mother and he, alone and unaided, held countered the hands of the children and their own and survived in the ferocious en learned that they were cruel to hurt. also, vironment of the wild. and not for noth he had once nearly had an eye poked out ing had he learned to walk softly when by a toddling papoose. from these ex- superior strength went by. he oppressed periences he became suspicious of all chil- the weak, but he respected the strong. dren. he could not tolerate them. when and in the course of the long journey with they came near with their ominous hands, gray beaver he walked softly indeed he got up and walked away. amongst the full-grown dogs in the camps it was in a village at the great slave of the strange man-animals they encoun lake that, in the course of resenting the tered. evil of the hands of the man-animals, he the months passed by. still continued came to modify the law that he had learned the journey of gray beaver. white fang's from gray beaver: namely, that the un- strength was developed by the long hours pardonable crime was to bite one of the on trail and the steady toil at the sled; and gods. in this village, after the custom of it would have seemed that his mental de all dogs in all villages, white fang went velopment was well-nigh complete. he foraging for food. a boy was chopping had come to know quite thoroughly the frozen moose-meat with an axe, and the world in which he lived. his outlook was chips were flying in the snow. white fang, bleak and materialistic. the world as he sidling by in quest of meat, stopped and saw it was a fierce and brutal world, a began to eat the chips. he observed the world without warmth, a world in which boy lay down the axe and take up a stout caresses and affection and the bright sweet club. white fang sprang clear, just in nesses of the spirit did not exist. time to escape the descending blow. the he had no affection for gray beaver. boy pursued him, and he, a stranger in the true, he was a god, but a most savage god. village, fled between two tepees to find white fang was glad to acknowledge his himself cornered against a high earth bank. lordship, but it was a lordship based upon there was no escape for white fang. superior intelligence and brute strength. the only way out was between the two there was something in the fiber of white tepees, and this the boy guarded. holding white fang . his club prepared to strike, he drew in ing in amongst the combatants. five on his cornered quarry. white fang was minutes later the landscape was covered furious. he faced the boy, bristling and with fleeing boys, many of whom dripped snarling, his sense of justice outraged. he blood upon the snow in token that white knew the law of forage. all the wastage of fang's teeth had not been idle. when meat, such as the frozen chips, belonged mit-sah told his story in camp, gray beaver to the dog that found it. he had done no ordered meat to be given to white fang. wrong, broken no law, yet here was this he ordered much meat to be given, and boy preparing to give him a beating. white fang, gorged and sleepy by the fire, white fang scarcely knew what happened. knew that the law had received its verifi- he did it in a surge of rage. and he did cation. it so quickly that the boy did not know it was in line with these experiences either. all the boy knew was that he had that white fang came to learn the law of in some unaccountable way been over property and the duty of the defense of turned into the snow, and that his club property. from the protection of his god's hand had been ripped wide open by white body to the protection of his god's posses- fang's teeth. sions was a step, and this step he made. but white fang knew that he had what was his god's was to be defended broken the law of the gods. he had driven against all the world-even to the extent his teeth into the sacred flesh of one of of biting other gods. not only was such them, and could expect nothing but a most an act sacrilegious in its nature, but it was terrible punishment. he fled away to fraught with peril. the gods were all- gray beaver, behind whose protecting legs powerful, and a dog was no match against he crouched when the bitten boy and the them; yet white fang learned to face boy's family came, demanding vengeance. them, fiercely belligerent and unafraid. but they went away with vengeance un duty rose above fear, and thieving gods satisfied. gray beaver defended white learned to leave gray beaver's property fang. so did mit-sah and kloo-kooch. alone. white fang, listening to the wordy war one thing, in this connection, white and watching the angry gestures, knew that fang quickly learned, and that was that his act was justified. and so it came that a thieving god was usually a cowardly god he learned there were gods and gods. and prone to run away at the sounding of there were his gods, and there were other the alarm. also, he learned that but brief gods, and between them there was a dif time elapsed between his sounding of the ference. justice or injustice, it was all the alarm and gray beaver coming to his aid. same, he must take all things from the hands he came to know that it was not fear of of his own gods. but he was not compelled him that drove the thief away, but fear of to take injustice from the other gods. it gray beaver. white fang did not give was his privilege to resent it with his teeth. the alarm by barking. he never barked. and this also was a law of the gods. his method was to drive straight at the before the day was out white fang was intruder, and to sink his teeth in if he to learn more about this law. mit-sah, could. because he was morose and soli- alone, gathering firewood in the forest, en tary, having nothing to do with the other countered the boy that had been bitten. dogs, he was unusually fitted to guard his with him were other boys. hot words master's property; and in this he was en- passed. then all the boys attacked mit- couraged and trained by gray beaver. sah. it was going hard with him. blows one result of this was to make white fang were raining upon him from all sides. more ferocious and indomitable, and more white fang looked on at first. this was solitary. an affair of the gods, and no concern of the months went by, binding stronger his. and stronger the covenant between dog then he realized that this was mit-sah, and man. this was the ancient covenant one of his own particular gods, who was be that the first wolf that came in from the ing maltreated. it was no reasoned impulse wild entered into with man. and, like that made white fang do what he then all succeeding wolves and wild dogs that did. a mad rush of anger sent him leap had done likewise, white fang worked the the outing magazine the famine covenant out for himself. the terms were there was baseek, a grizzled old fellow simple. for the possession of a flesh-and that in his younger days had but to uncover blood god, he exchanged his own liberty. his fangs to send white fang cringing and food and fire, protection and companion- crouching to the right-about. from him ship, were some of the things he received white fang had learned much of his own from the god. in return, he guarded the insignificance; and from him he was now god's property, defended his body, worked to learn much of the change and develop- for him and obeyed him. ment that had taken place in himself. the possession of a god implies service. while baseek had been growing weaker white fang's was a service of duty and with age, white fang had been growing awe, but not of love. he did not know stronger with youth. what love was. he had no experience of it was at the cutting up of a moose, love. kiche was a remote memory. be fresh killed, that white fang learned of sides, not only had he abandoned the wild the changed relations in which he stood and his kind when he gave himself up to to the dog world. he had got for himself man, but the terms of the covenant were a hoof and part of the shin-bone, to which such that if he ever met kiche again he quite a bit of meat was attached. with- would not desert his god to go with her. drawn from the immediate scramble of the his allegiance to man seemed somehow a other dogs-in fact, out of sight behind a law of his being greater than the love of thicket-he was devouring his prize, when liberty, of kind and kin. baseek rushed in upon him. before he knew what he was doing, he had slashed chapter vi the intruder twice and sprung clear. ba- seek was surprised by the other's temerity and swiftness of attack. he stood gazing the spring of the year was at hand when stupidly across at white fang, the raw, gray beaver finished his long journey. it red shin-bone between them. was april, and white fang was a year old baseek was old, and already he had when he pulled into the home village and come to know the increasing valor of the was loosed from the harness by mit-sah. dogs it had been his wont to bully. bit- though a long way from his full growth, ter experiences these, which, perforce, he white fang, next to lip-lip, was the largest swallowed, calling upon all his wisdom to yearling in the village. both from his cope with them. in the old days, he would father, the wolf, and from kiche, he had have sprung upon white fang in a fury inherited stature and strength, and already of righteous wrath. but now his waning he was measuring up alongside the full powers would not permit such a course. grown dogs. but he had not yet grown he bristled fiercely and looked ominously compact. his body was slender and rangy, across the shin-bone at white fang. and and his strength more stringy than massive. white fang, resurrecting quite a deal of his coat was the true wolf gray, and to the old awe, seemed to wilt and to shrink all appearances he was true wolf himself. in upon himself and grow small, as he cast the quarter strain of dog he had inherited about in his mind for a way to beat a re- from kiche had left no mark on him phys treat not too inglorious. ically, though it played its part in his men and right here baseek erred. had he tal make-up. contented himself with looking fierce and he wandered through the village, recog ominous all would have been well. white nizing with staid satisfaction the various fang, on the verge of retreat, would have gods he had known before the long journey. retreated, leaving the meat to him. but then there were the dogs, puppies growing baseek did not wait. he considered the up like himself and grown dogs that did not victory already his and stepped forward to look so large and formidable as the mem the meat. as he bent his head carelessly ory pictures he retained of them. also, to smell it white fang bristled slightly. he stood less in fear of them than formerly, even then it was not too late for baseek stalking among them with a certain care to retrieve the situation. had he merely less ease that was as new to him as it was stood over the meat, head up and glower- enjoyable. ing, white fang would ultimately have white fang slunk away. but the fresh meat was strong remote and alien, was accepted as an equal in baseek's nostrils, and greed urged him to by his puzzled elders. they quickly take a bite of it. learned to leave him alone, neither ven- this was too much for white fang. turing hostile acts nor making overtures fresh upon his months of mastery over his of friendliness. if they left him alone, he own team-mates, it was beyond his self- left them alone—a state of affairs that they control to stand idly by while another de found, after a few encounters, to be pre- voured the meat that belonged to him. eminently desirable. he struck, after his custom, without warn in midsummer white fang had an ex- ing. with the first slash, baseek's right perience. perience. trotting along in his silent way ear was ripped into ribbons. he was to investigate a new tepee which had been astounded at the suddenness of it. but erected on the edge of the village while he more things, and most grievous ones, were was away with the hunters after moose, happening with equal suddenness. he he came full upon kiche. he paused and was knocked off his feet. his throat was looked at her. he remembered her vaguely, bitten. while he was struggling to his but he remembered her, and that was more feet the young dog sank teeth twice into than could be said for her. she lifted her his shoulder. the swiftness of it was be lip at him in the old snarl of menace, and wildering. he made a futile rush at white his memory became clear. his forgotten fang, clipping the empty air with an out cubhood, all that was associated with that raged snap. the next moment his nose familiar snarl, rushed back to him. be- was laid open and he was staggering back fore he had known the gods, she had been ward away from the meat. to him the center-pin of the universe. the situation was now reversed. white the old familiar feelings of that time came fang stood over the shin-bone, bristling back upon him, surged up within him. and menacing, while baseek stood a little he bounded toward her joyously, and she way off, preparing to retreat. he dared met him with shrewd fangs that laid his not risk a fight with this young lightning cheek open to the bone. he did not under- flash, and again he knew, and more bit stand. he backed away, bewildered and terly, the enfeeblement of oncoming age. puzzled. his attempt to maintain his dignity was but it was not kiche's fault. a wolf- heroic. calmly turning his back upon mother was not made to remember her young dog and shin-bone, as though both cubs of a year or so before. so she did not were beneath his notice and unworthy of remember white fang. he was a strange consideration, he stalked grandly away. animal, an intruder; and her present litter nor until well out of sight did he stop to of puppies gave her the right to resent such lick his bleeding wounds. intrusion. the effect on white fang was to give him one of the puppies sprawled up to white a greater faith in himself, and a greater fang. they were half-brothers, only they pride. he walked less softly among the did not know it. white fang sniffed the grown dogs; his attitude toward them was puppy curiously, whereupon kiche rushed less compromising. not that he went out of upon him, gashing his face a second time. his way looking for trouble. far from it. he backed farther away. all the old but upon his way he demanded considera memories and associations died down again tion. he stood upon his right to go his and passed into the grave from which they way unmolested and to give trail to no dog. had been resurrected. he looked at kiche he had to be taken into account, that was licking her puppy and stopping now and all. he was no longer to be disregarded then to snarl at him. she was without and ignored, as was the lot of puppies and value to him. he had learned to get along as continued to be the lot of the puppies without her. her meaning was forgotten. that were his team-mates. they got out there was no place for her in his scheme of of the way, gave trail to the grown dogs, things, as there was no place for him in and gave up meat to them under compul- hers. sion. but white fang, uncompanionable, he was still standing, stupid and be- solitary, morose, scarcely looking to right wildered, the memories forgotten, wonder- or left, redoubtable, forbidding of aspect, ing what it was all about, when kiche the outing magazine attacked him a third time, intent on driv of him. he knew the law too well to take ing him away altogether from the vicinity. it out on gray beaver; behind gray beaver and white fang allowed himself to be were a club and god-head. but behind the driven away. this was a female of his dogs there was nothing but space, and into kind, and it was a law of his kind that the this space they fled when white fang males must not fight the females. he did came on the scene made mad by laughter. not know anything about this law, for it in the third year of his life there came a was no generalization of the mind, not a great famine to the mackenzie indians. something acquired by experience in the in the summer the fish failed. in the world. he knew it as a secret prompting, winter the cariboo forsook their accus- as an urge of instinct-of the same instinct tomed track. moose were scarce, the rab- that made him howl at the moon and stars bits almost disappeared, hunting and prey- of nights and that made him fear death ing animals perished. denied their usual and the unknown. food supply, weakened by hunger, they the months went by. white fang fell upon and devoured one another. grew stronger, heavier and more compact, only the strong survived. white fang's while his character was developing along gods were also hunting animals. the old the lines laid down by his heredity and and the weak of them died of hunger. his environment. his heredity was a life there was wailing in the village, where the stuff that may be likened to clay. it pos women and children went without in order sessed many possibilities, was capable of that what little they had might go into the being molded into many different forms. bellies of the lean and hollow-eyed hunters environment served to model the clay, to who trod the forest in the vain pursuit of give it a particular form. thus, had meat. white fang never come in to the fires of to such extremity were the gods driven man, the wild would have molded him that they ate the soft-tanned leather of into a true wolf. but the gods had given their moccasins and mittens, while the him a different environment, and he was dogs ate the harnesses off their backs and molded into a dog that was rather wolfish, the very whip-lashes. also, the dogs ate but that was a dog and not a wolf. one another, and also the gods ate the and so, according to the clay of his dogs. the weakest and the more worthless nature and the pressure of his surround were eaten first. the dogs that still lived ings, his character was being molded into looked on and understood. a few of the a certain particular shape. there was no boldest and wisest forsook the fires of the escaping it. he was becoming more mo gods, which had now become a shambles, rose, more uncompanionable, more soli and fled into the forest, where, in the end, tary, more ferocious; while the dogs were they starved to death or were eaten by learning more and more that it was better wolves. to be at peace with him than at war, and in this time of misery white fang, too, gray beaver was coming to prize him stole away into the woods. he was better more greatly with the passage of each fitted for the life than the other dogs, for day. he had the training of his cubhood to guide white fang, seeming to sum up strength him. especially adept did he become in in all his qualities, nevertheless suffered stalking small living things. he would lie from one besetting weakness. he could concealed for hours, following every move- not stand being laughed at. the laughter ment of a cautious tree-squirrel, waiting, of men was a hateful thing. they might with a patience as huge as the hunger he laugh among themselves about anything suffered from, until the squirrel ventured they pleased except himself, and he did out upon the ground. even then white not mind. but the moment laughter was fang was not premature. he waited until turned upon him he would fly into a most he was sure of striking before the squirrel terrible rage. grave, dignified, somber, a could gain a tree refuge. then, and not laugh made him frantic to ridiculousness. until then, would he flash from his hiding it so outraged him and upset him that for place, a gray projectile, incredibly swift, hours he would behave like a demon. and never failing its mark—the fleeing squirrel woe to the dog that at such times ran foul that fled not fast enough. white fang successful as he was with squirrels, there anything but affectionate. but white was one difficulty that prevented him from fang did not mind. he had outgrown his living and growing fat on them. there mother. so he turned tail philosophically were not enough squirrels. so he was and trotted on up the stream. at the driven to hunt still smaller things. so forks he took the turning to the left, where acute did his hunger become at times that he found the lair of the lynx with whom he was not above rooting out wood-mice his mother and he had fought long before. from their burrows in the ground. nor here, in the abandoned lair, he settled did he scorn to do battle with a weasel as down and rested for a day. hungry as himself and many times more during the early summer, in the last ferocious. days of the famine, he met lip-lip, who had in the worst pinches of the famine he likewise taken to the woods, where he had stole back to the fires of the gods. but he eked out a miserable existence. white did not go in to the fires. he lurked in the fang came upon him unexpectedly. trot- forest, avoiding discovery and robbing the ting in opposite directions along the base snares at the rare intervals when game of a high bluff, they rounded a corner of was caught. he even robbed gray beaver's rock and found themselves face to face. snare of a rabbit at a time when gray they paused with instant alarm, and beaver staggered and tottered through the looked at each other suspiciously. forest, sitting down often to rest, what of white fang was in splendid condition. weakness and of shortness of breath. his hunting had been good, and for a week one day white fang encountered a he had eaten his fill. he was even gorged young wolf, gaunt and scrawny, loose from his latest kill. but in the moment jointed with famine. had he not been he looked at lip-lip his hair rose on end all hungry himself, white fang might have along his back. it was an involuntary gone with him and eventually found his bristling on his part, the physical state that way into the pack amongst his wild breth in the past had always accompanied the ren. as it was, he ran the young wolf down mental state produced in him by lip-lip's and killed and ate him. bullying and persecution. as in the past fortune seemed to favor him. always, he had bristled and snarled at sight of lip- when hardest pressed for food, he found lip, so now, and automatically, he bristled something to kill. again, when he was and snarled. he did not waste any time. weak, it was his luck that none of the the thing was done thoroughly and with larger preying animals chanced upon him. dispatch. lip-lip essayed to back away, thus, he was strong from the two days' but white fang struck him hard, shoulder eating a lynx had afforded him when the to shoulder. lip-lip was overthrown and hungry wolf pack ran full tilt upon him. rolled upon his back. white fang's teeth it was a long, cruel chase, but he was bet drove into the scrawny throat. there was ter nourished than they and in the end a death-struggle, during which white fang outran them. and not only did he out walked around, stiff-legged and observant. run them, but, circling widely back on his then he resumed his course and trotted on track, he gathered in one of his exhausted along the base of the bluff. pursuers. one day, not long after, he came to the after that he left that part of the coun edge of the forest, where a narrow stretch try and journeyed over to the valley where of open land sloped down to the mackenzie. in he had been born. here, in the old he had been over this ground before, when lair, he encountered kiche. up to her old it was bare, but now a village occupied it. tricks, she, too, had fled the inhospitable still hidden amongst the trees, he paused fires of the gods and gone back to her to study the situation. sights and sounds old refuge to give birth to her young. and scents were familiar to him. it was of this litter but one remained alive the old village changed to a new place. when white fang came upon the scene, but sights and sounds and smells were and this one was not destined to live different from those he had last had when long. young life had little chance in such he fled away from it. there was no whim- a famine. pering nor wailing. contented sounds kiche's greeting of her grown son was saluted his ear, and when he heard the magazine the outing angry voice of a woman he knew it to be the anger that proceeds from a full stomach. and there was a smell in the air of fish. there was food. the famine was gone. he came out boldly from the forest and trotted into camp straight to gray beaver's tepee. gray beaver was not there; but kloo-kooch welcomed him with glad cries and the whole of a fresh-caught fish, and he lay down to wait gray beaver's coming. (to be continued.) there's music in my heart to-day by lloyd roberts there's music in my heart to-day; the master-hand is on the keys, calling me up to the windy hills and down to the purple seas. let time draw back when i hear that tune old to the soul when the stars were new- and swing the doors to the four great winds, that my feet may wander through. north or south, and east or west; over the rim with the bellied sails, from the mountains' feet to the empty plains, or down the silent trails- it matters not which door you choose; the same clear tune blows through them all, though one heart leaps to the grind of seas and one to the rain-bird's call. however you hide in the city's din and drown your ears with its siren songs, some day steal in those thin, wild notes, and you leave the foolish throngs. god grant that the day will find me not when the tune shall mellow and thrill in vain- so long as the plains are red with sun, and the woods are black with rain. skimming down the delaware by howe williams illustrated by f. m. follet i ware. it is to be hoped that violent in his denunciation of canoes till i no one will accuse was standing in the street and he on the either wux or me sidewalk. several persons stopped to listen. of sportsman-like but all arguments ended in the same way conduct. the sen -that wux could not swim; so i was com- sible way of doing pelled to cast my vote for a flat-bottomed things is usually rowboat as our method of conveyance the most obvious down the rough waters of the upper dela- and therefore the least original. it on our arrival in hancock, n. y., which was not perhaps the desire to do things we had selected as the point of departure, differently from other people that saner we purchased a rowboat painted green. it methods were discarded with ceaseless had a perceptible upward curve at the bow, regularity, but there is something about which was repeated, though in less degree, the artistic temperament which is anti at the stern. this we found very useful thetical to sound common sense. let this for sliding over rocks close to the surface. be the cloak behind which we hide. the stern seat was broad, enabling one to while wux (my cadaverous friend) was stand erect while casting for bass, and un- in favor of a flat-bottomed boat, i clung to der the middle seat was built a water-tight the canoe idea for many days and tried to fish-box with holes in the bottom, which influence him in most subtle fashion to my kept it partly full of water. altogether it way of thinking. i had friends of mine, was a very stanchly built little boat, espe- enthusiastic canoeists, talk to him; sent cially adapted to our use, and we cheer- his name with a request for illustrated fully parted with the fifteen dollars which catalogues to all the manufacturers of the owner asked for it. canoes; and one afternoon after a hearty wux spent a day purchasing what he luncheon, i brought him up suddenly be- thought were the requisites of a trip which fore a store window which displayed one of was to include camping at night on the the egg-shell craft in all the glory of its new banks of the river. these purchases in- coat of dried-grass green paint. cluded some eight dollars' worth of gro- “here you are,” i exclaimed, as though ceries and three dollars' worth of tin pans it were the first time i had seen it. “she and other hardware. the drowsy clerks, will ride the water like a swan. there is who could often read a novel through at a more poetry in that spruce paddle sitting without being interrupted by a soli- "i don't want any poetry," he answered, tary purchase, exhibited signs of consterna- with unnecessary emphasis. “what i tion at the nonchalant manner with which want is an old mud-scow which will float he tossed these large sums of money on the two artists and a bunch of freight without counter as though he was too tired to carry turning into a submarine at every bit of it any farther. our financial standing soon rough water we come to.” became known and we received constant i backed away from him as he grew more visits at our hotel from men who wished to the outing magazine sell us boats, make us tent poles (which we. "those are the things-everything else had come without), carry our luggage to is out of season." (it was the latter half the water and dig worms for us. of june.) our boat was tethered to a log raft, i stood up in the seat, arms folded and and it was with a feeling of deep satis legs outstretched. to the right, a chaos faction that we noted several inches of her of white water tumbling over and around side board still above water after we had black rocks; to the left-well, it looked as finished loading her. though the river ran rather smoothly over when wux had taken his seat in the there. i cast a glance at the bottom of stern and i amidships with the oars in hand, the river which was plainly visible; so did a prominent citizen with side whiskers wux. shoved her nose off the raft and threw the “look at the way the river bottom is chain in after us. he smiled and waved sliding under us,” he cried; “row for your good-by, but it was not a hearty smile; life if you want to make that smooth there was something suspicious about it, water!” hypocritical—the smile a physician wears it was indeed time, for the current was as he informs a patient in the final stage of carrying us down at a stupefying pace into tuberculosis that he will be on his feet again the very maw fringed with froth and in a few days. my companion cast an ap- speckled with fangs. rowed for the prehensive glance at the water-line and smooth, trickling floor of water with all the tried to fathom the depth with his fishing- strength acquired by years of wielding a rod, but said nothing. lead pencil; and with one last, tense effort getting into the current i found that the drove the nose of the boat into the gravel flow of the river made rowing for the time bed. as the boat with its ponderous load unnecessary if one were inclined to be lazy; of freight crunched on the gravel and came so i filled my pipe, rolled up the sleeves of to a decisive stop there was a moment of my shirt to let the sun beat down on tan embarrassing silence. then my compan- less arms, while wux, standing up in the ion, getting on his legs again, said: stern, made cast after cast after the bass “i have no doubt that it is as evident to we had read about in the guide-books. you as it is to me that we have not yet we dawdled away a half hour lazily exhausted the sum total of human knowl- floating onward, toy mountains on either edge that pertains to river navigation. side and just enough current to make them over there to the right where the river pass gently by. we felicitated ourselves looks nastiest and the rocks are thickest that for once we were mother nature's is the deep water and therefore the chan- children, while at that very hour those nel. put down also on your mental slate poor beggars, our co-workers, were seating that the channel is on the outside of the themselves methodically at their respec river bend, which is natural. in the future tive desks with uncongenial tasks before avoid the water which trickles—it's a sand- them asking to be finished and done with. bar or gravel-ledge. for the present there “look,” said i, waving my arm over a is but one thing to do." quadrant of scenery, “there is not a sky we stepped overboard into six inches of scraper in sight, not even smoke, the mark water and shoved and pushed, pulled and of human occupancy, nor a sound other dragged the boat into waters deeper. than the twittering"--i stopped to listen. below this rift we found the water quiet a dull suspicious roar as of a train crossing and deep; but shortly we heard the roar a trestle reached my ear. wux heard it, of another rift, and here with our newly stopped casting and reeled in his line while acquired knowledge we selected the rough he shaded his eyes from the sun and gazed water and dodged the rocks as best we ahead. could. after a long, silent scrutiny he said, “i as we shot rift after rift with increasing guess that mixture of soapsuds and growls skill and many escapes from annihilation is what is technically known as a rift.” we decided that it was one of the finest "oh, yes," i answered without a trace sports nature had placed at the disposal of of nervousness; "those are the things we came up here to shoot.” the season for bass had but just opened, man. skimming down the delaware and we found them not very hungry. still, packed the blankets in the canvas bag, and by assiduously casting at the foot of every shifted the cots so that it rained only on rift we passed and in swift water we were our heads and feet. with the lantern usually rewarded at the end of the day burning brightly from the ridge pole, a pail with enough for supper and sometimes a of fresh spring water, two tin cups and a few over. they were rather small, for the bottle, from which the label had been most part under ten inches, and many of washed by the rain, occupying the foot of the undersized ones were returned to their space between the cots, we lay down fully homes. we found a painted wooden min clothed and challenged the howling ele- now the most effective bait. with this con ments without to make us wish we had trivance we caught three-fourths of all the not come. however, after three nights of fish taken on the trip. wind, rain, lightning and whip-poor-wills, large shad swimming with the dorsal we decided to break camp, drop down the fin out of water were often encountered. river to equinunk and find somebody who at this season they are stranded wayfarers knew how to make a tent waterproof. who have neglected too long their return at equinunk, about dusk, we tied up to to salt water more than two hundred miles a log raft. we were wet through, and as away. eventual- it was still rain- ly they go nearly ing, the idea of blind and then camping out for die. their shiny the night was not bodies dotted the so pleasing a bottom of the prospect as walk- river, or were to ing up the bank be seen dragged through the tall up on the rocks grass to a hotel and left half eaten overlooking the by some water river. rodent. the following some few miles day we set out in down the river an intermittent we came to an is- rain. we were land, the south- somewhat unde- ern end of which cided whether to was so inviting make camp down that although the the river or to row day was still to callicoon and young we landed put up at a hotel. and made camp. wux was very wespent four de- "the drowsy clerks ... exhibited signs of consternation." fond of camping. lightful days here he was a good and, owing to a subsequent disaster, it cook and was perfectly willing to clean the was the only camping we did. fish we caught. further than that he that it rained every night we were upon would not go. so it devolved on me to this island and that our second-hand tent wash the dishes and perform other menial leaked like mosquito netting, did not for tasks, as my one attempt at providing a a moment detract from the joy we felt at meal subjected me to criticism at which being absolutely alone on an uninhabited my sensitive nature recoiled. so i can- island and beyond the reach of human not say that a soft bed in a hotel and assistance. doubtless through some mis a country dinner without the disagreeable take, there was a strip of dry canvas across aftermath of dish-washing were displeasing the middle of the tent; and it was with the to me. little did i care how much it bland and happy smile of the man who has rained, though wux was constantly point- no relations and does not care much what ing out spots which, in his opinion, were happens next, that every night about fine sites for camp; but as the rain eleven we got up as the rain poured down, continued he yielded the point and we the outing magazine reached callicoon about seven in the even after the first wild, vain effort to stop the ing. progress of destruction we let them go. i we fastened the boat temporarily to a remember watching them with something rock, as there seemed to be no better place, of a grim humor as they faded out of sight; and with the camera, rifle and fishing it occurred to me that i would not have to tackle under our arms, ascended to the wash dishes or clean out greasy frying-pans hotel on the new york side. here we with sand any more. learned that the only place to fasten a boat the tent i saw but a moment, but the securely for the night was on the other side pine box of groceries, being light in color, of the river, which is spanned at this point i could see as it floated far down the river by a suspension bridge. till it too faded into the night. the tent rain was descending steadily and night poles and pegs, one oar, the folding cots, a approaching. we shoved the heavily- telescope valise containing toilet accesso- laden boat off the beach and jumped in. ries and shirts, four pairs of shoes and stock- just below the bridge we discovered a little ings (we were barefooted at the time), five rift. after those we had come through pounds of bacon, all of the cooking utensils during the day it was indeed insignificant. -not even a fork or tin pan being left in we scorned it, but unfortunately failed to the bottom-a fishing-rod and landing-net, take into consideration the gathering dark water pail, bottles of catsup, whiskey and ness. lemon-juice, the lantern and the hatchet- sudden and disastrous events have a all joined the merry throng. tendency to obliterate from the memory after the boat had been cleared of every- the lesser events which immediately pre thing there was in it even to the accumula- cede them and the little details which ac tion of sand on the bottom, i realized that company them. still, i can recall with something should be done, and climbed fair accuracy about what happened to us down from my perch. we tried to push in the next few minutes. after we passed her off the rock, but the force of the in- under the bridge. i know that i was row flowing water nailed her down. wux re- ing merrily straight across instead of taking moved his coat and carelessly placed it on a slanting course with the current. i think the bow, which was almost the only part we were consulting our appetites, formu out of water. in the pocket was a safety lating a menu of what we would have to eat on our return to the hotel-fried chick- en with bacon and cream sauce and sweet potatoes, and all that sort of thing. we were just about in the middle of the stream when the port side of the boat sud- denly rose high in the air and remained there. wux was thrown into the swift water which was about waist-deep, and clinging to the lower side of the boat shout- ed out orders to me. i climbed high up on the port side and sat there stupefied. it seemed as though the whole delaware river rushed into that boat in one huge wave, scooping out the contents, searching every corner for more. we were jammed securely upon a rock, the water rushing in at the lower side in one mad wave and com- pletely over the other side, tilted high in air. the two canvas bags containing our wearing apparel were the first to go over- board and in a moment were out of sight far down the stream. they were followed by a long procession of all our worldly goods. "enough for supper and sometimes a few over." wux skimming down the delaware si the map. razor which he valued highly. he had grabbed it up from the open valise just as that piece of luggage went over. when he looked again the coat-and razor—were gone so i kept mine on. we floundered in the water for some time to no purpose. we could not get the boat off and it was per- haps well that we could not, for we would have gone over the rift with but one oar between us and the near future. presently a young man in "i climbed high on the port side and sat there stupefied." a boat parted the gloom. he was a strong, healthy young man with a marked bad in large letters. they repre- broad smile and red gums. this young man, sented rifts or falls. now, although we frank klein by name, divided his time (so had gone through some swift and treacher- we learned later) between catching rattle ous water such as plum island and rocky snakes for their oil, gathering ginseng on rift, it was significant to us that none the mountains, and rescuing adventure of these were marked with a triangle on some tourists on the river. he admitted in short, our doughty canoeist that he found the last quite as profitable thought them beneath his notice. as the other two. on the day following our experience be- after fastening our boat to his the three neath the callicoon bridge we got out our of us succeeded in pulling her ashore. then map as usual to look over the day's course. klein went on a salvage expedition and we decided to make narrowsburg, some rescued the tent and a canvas bag, which fourteen miles below; but there, right be- he caught just as they were about to run tween us and narrowsburg was cochecton over the next rift a mile below. this was falls, marked with a triangle, also marked all we ever recovered of our cargo. bad. this place had been described to us we proceeded at once to the dry-goods as the first really bad spot on the river. store, which was filled with purchasers, the recovered tent and canvas bag we most of them women. (it was a saturday shipped home by freight as the loss of most night.) a pleasant, sympathetic lady sold of the outfit made camping impossible. so us some tennis shoes and socks which we it was with a light boat and light hearts put on, unabashed, on the spot. we then that we dropped down the river from calli- visited the hotel bar where we were sur coon. our luggage now consisted of the rounded by a curious and good-humored rifle, camera, fishing-rod and a valise pur- audience, and in a very few moments we chased in callicoon to replace the other one. were pooh-poohing the whole incident. with the light draft of the boat we shot the rifts much more easily than before. as we had brought with us a neat map we approached cochecton they grew worse drawn by a canoeist who had made the and worse, and i hesitate to think what trip several times. we found it in every would have become of us if we had not respect admirable and accurate. the trout dumped that monstrous load of baggage streams and the spots in the river where farther up. as we had been somewhat the best bass and pike fishing were to be misdirected, there were several times dur- found were indicated by a crude but in- ing the morning that we shot rapids the telligible diagram of a fish. turbulence of which made us think they what interested us most, however, were were cochecton falls; we felt as if we had a number of little triangles scattered down been to the dentist's and had an ugly tooth the river. some of these triangles were extracted and were glad it was over. very the outing magazine soon we discovered the tooth had not been “i don't believe the boat was ever built extracted at all. passing under a bridge that could come over that mess without a fisherman told us that just around the disastrous results." bend was cochecton-and so it was. we “what shall we do about it?" stood up on the seats to get a look at it. "you take the chain and hang on to it “what you want to do,” said wux, “is while i push out the stern with an oar, and to run in close to that rock on the penn we will let her down backward.” this sylvania shore, and we will go through was easily done as the water near shore is there like a mountain climber sliding head- sufficiently deep. first down a glacier." our conclusion in regard to cochecton “that's the channel, all right. better falls we were forced by the events of the lash the rifle and camera to the seat. no following day to dismiss as poor judgment. matter what happens, old chap, you hang cochecton can be shot, at times even with on to the boat.' a loaded canoe, though the condition of the we were rapidly approaching the point water, the depth of which varies constantly, from which there is no recall. i braced has much to do with it. my advice is to my feet against the cleats at the side, for shoot it first and look at it afterward. somehow this bit of water seemed to make just above narrowsburg we passed two more noise than the others, and it was canoes, each containing two men. “did whiter. there was no question about it; you shoot cochecton?” asked wux. there was a new and exciting experience "oh, yes,” one of them replied in an right before us. i knew that in exactly ordinary tone; "shipped a little water, but two minutes we would either be in quiet not much.” water below the falls, slapping each other “liar!” whispered wux to me. but he on the back and saying, “say, maybe we wasn't. ain't all right;" or else we would be, per at narrowsburg we again consulted the haps, clinging to a rock in mid-stream while map and discovered two triangles, one the boat floated away, leaving us no possi above and one below westcolang park. ble way of reaching shore excepting, of they were marked bad. my friend course, by aerial navigation. looked at the triangles and thought of “now, if i could swim," said my friend, cochecton. so did i. he looked out of in a drawling tone which betrayed no ex the hotel window at the beautiful scenery citement. about the little town and suggested tenta- “well, perhaps we had better look these tively that we spend the rest of our vaca- falls over before we shoot them,” | an tion there. swered in an equally collected tone. “shall "i do not want to go home till we have we? speak quick!" shot some of the rapids on this river "well, you might drive her in here if you marked ‘bad' on the map; and i know you like.” we were close to the shore, and i do not. i am sorry we did not shoot drove the boat in between two rocks at the cochecton. it is a stigma upon us, a re- head of the falls. getting out, we jumped proach." from rock to rock along the shore, beating “i know, i know. but we have not the brush as we went with a stout stick as heard of anybody making this trip in a a precaution against rattlesnakes. (they rowboat. everywhere you see canoes; a do not come down to the water till august, canoe can dodge a rock when dead on, but but we did not know that.) a rowboat is lethargic and unwieldy. you the falls seemed to be made up of three can't write a letter s around two rocks the successive drops with waves about four feet way a canoe will do it. and then,” he con- high at the foot of the last one. the first tinued, “you do not take a rift the way the two i felt we could make successfully, if we natives do it; they go down stern first and were lucky, but the last one had a huge row up stream as the current carries them rock placed at the bottom of the drop and down, thus deftly dropping the boat be- almost directly in the course of any craft tween the rocks. you go bow on with that essayed it. i looked at my companion your back to the front and your head and read in his face the same conclusion i twisted around like an owl looking for mice. had already formed. however we will go down to lackawaxen skimming down the delaware to-morrow and wipe those triangles off the have made no difference anyway, for the map.” boat insisted on going over it; and over it we went, the stern dragging on the rock on the next day we got an early start and but not retarding the speed. we dropped soon saw in the distance the canoeists who into a mass of waves which slapped wux had encamped for the night above narrows in the face and me in the back of the neck. burg. with an eye to what was before us the amount of water we shipped was sur- we dawdled along, rowing lazily through prisingly small when we looked back at the eddies and taking the rifts at the speed what we had come through. of the current. we wanted them to go our friends, the canoeists, were indeed first, and they soon paddled by and were drying their clothes. one of the canoes lost to sight around a bend. about a was half full of water and had been saved mile above westcolang we entered what from a spill by the paddler in the stern, seemed like a rather long rift, but quickly who dexterously leaped to a rock, righted found ourselves in a seething mass of rocks her and jumped back in again. and leaping water, and our little green boat “what do you think of that water?" darting into the midst of it like a hawk asked my companion of one of them who after a chicken. as i rowed with my face was wiping the water from a shotgun with twisted forward i caught a momentary his pocket handkerchief. glimpse below the rift of two canoes drawn "we shipped less water going through up on the shore and something white hang cochecton falls.” ing from the bushes. it occurred to me turning to me wux remarked, “we that they were drying their underclothes could have gone through cochecton just as after shooting the rift. we knew they easily as an eеl can squirm through your were watching us with interest. fingers.” attention was fully occupied for the mo the next bad place just above lacka- ment. wux was shouting out, “rock on waxen we went through with the ease and your right! rock dead ahead!” once confidence born of vast experience. we the stern struck heavily, but he put a leg simply ate it up with an appetite for more. out and we were off again. it was all there is an intoxication about running down hill now and there was nothing but rapid water which few other things pro- the final leap into stiller water. i had not duce. it is akin to the feeling of the small a moment to choose, for right before us boy after his first battle and victory; he the water fell over a huge table-rock and wants to fight the whole neighborhood. dropped a couple of feet, forming a mass at lackawaxen we counted our small of choppy waves. how deep the water change, looked at the calendar and sold the , 'as on this rock i did not know. it would green boat for six dollars. but my general henry lee "light horse harry" of the revolution by lynn tew sprague frontispiece illustration by stanley m. arthurs cause. n the political status, social complexion ist, and sprung from an ancient and noble and moral temper of the two centers family. the founder of his line was sir of english colonization that were most launcelot lee, who came to england with influential in the creation of the republic, william the conqueror. richard bought there were, as all readers of history know, large tracts of land in westmoreland wide and seemingly unreconcilable differ county, and built a manor house which, ences. new england, narrow, frugal, in from his native home, he called “stratford tense and puritan, possessed a larger house.” he was so ardently cavalier in measure of political autonomy than the sentiment that during the protectorate of old dominion, and was perhaps more cromwell he visited prince charles in exile deeply imbued with the spirit of freedom. and offered to set up the standard of revolt but virginia, aristocratic, wealthy, cava in virginia. yet this same richard lee lier and anglican in religion though she was the founder of that family, pre-eminent might be, was not less insistent on what in all those qualities upon which virginians she deemed her rights. the flame of war most pride themselves, which perhaps gave was first fanned to life by the determined a larger number of really distinguished spirit of the men of new england; but men to the revolution than any family virginia made far greater sacrifices for the in the colonies. francis lightfoot lee, the claim of being “the cradle of scholar and statesman, signer of the dec- liberty” and the “birthplace of the re laration of independence, was his great- public,” so long put forth by the sons of grandson; so was arthur lee, statesman new england for their soil, seems strange and diplomat; so too was richard henry in the light of facts. for though new lee, statesman and orator, who also signed england writers have called colonial vir the declaration, and who was the mover ginians “slaves of church and king,” it of the first resolution that dissolved the was virginia that first dissolved its alle political connection between great brit- giance to that king. it was, too, a vir ain and the colonies. the old royalist ginian who moved in the continental con was also the great-great-grandfather of gress that "these united colonies are and general henry lee, the subject of this ought to be free and independent colo sketch, who was the most brilliant officer nies”; another virginian who wrote the of his years in the american army and the declaration of independence; another who most renowned of its cavalry leaders. led the armies of the states to victory and if so much of genealogy in so brief a was the first president of the new nation; sketch seems a violation of proportion, it another is called the “prophet of the rev is offered to illustrate how, with the very olution,” and still another the “father of birth of a republic of equal opportunity the constitution." and rights, all class distinctions were merged in the reign of charles i. there came to by the patriots in the old dominion. if virginia an english gentleman by the name aristocratic virginia gave bountifully of of richard lee, he was a stanch royal her best to democratic statecraft, she gave general henry lee the peale portrait of general henry lee. hanging in the independence hall, philadelphia. to its battles not less bountifully from all gime was at its height when he came into her classes. she gave gallant daniel mor the world. on the lordly estates, lavish gan, who was of her plebeian blood, and who hospitality and courtly manners of that rose to be, after his great chief, the most time a class of historians and novelists of efficient officer among her sons; but she our day love to dwell. young henry was gave also to the army the flower of her pa- emphatically of “quality.” he was nur- trician stock: she gave washington and tured and bred in an atmosphere of cava- she gave lee. lier sentiment and custom. at stratford, henry lee was born in westmoreland the great manor house of his cousin, he county, va.,-a county which has been mingled with an exclusive society of offi- the birthplace of two presidents and many cials and planters who wore powdered statesmen of the first class on the th wigs and silk stockings; and when his day of january, , and so was nineteen father took him to williamsport, the old years of age when the battle of concord colonial capital, he saw the court of lord and lexington was fought. the old ré dunmore and his lady, and watched the the outing magazine stately dames and gallant cavaliers as they from the very first he won distinction. stepped the ceremonious measures of the his care of men and horses, his young and minuet. no doubt, too, at raleigh tavern fiery spirit, his personal dash and bravery, he heard the gentlemen discuss over their made his services doubly efficient. though port the latest affair of gallantry or the his command was small, at his own solici- latest duel. henry was most carefully tation he was allowed to do much inde- trained and educated in all that it was then pendent work. he scoured the country deemed a gentleman should know, could on the flanks of the army, harassed the ride hard on the fox's trail, fence dex- enemy's outpost, brought in as prisoners trously and use the pistol with skill. when foragers and stragglers. foragers and stragglers. in a few weeks his future companion in arms, daniel mor he so won washington's admiration and gan, was drinking and brawling in a vir- regard that the chief chose lee's company ginia country tavern, private tutors were as his guard when the battle of german- instructing henry's boyhood, and under town was fought, oct. , . their tuition he proved himself an apt when the british marched upon phila- scholar. he entered princeton college just delphia, colonel alexander hamilton and as his great compatriot, the profound and captain lee, with a few dragoons, were sent studious madison, took his degree, and by washington to destroy a certain mill and was writing latin verses while the revo the flour it contained, to prevent the same lution was brewing. he was graduated at from falling into the hands of the enemy. eighteen, the celebrated dr. shippen pre the detachment narrowly escaped capture. saging his future eminence, and returned as they were embarking in scows to re- home to find his native state seething cross the mill stream, the advance of the with political unrest. his father was over enemy came up, and lee now gave a strik- the mountains engaged in negotiating on ing illustration of his resource and daring, behalf of the colonies a treaty with the hich saved the little command: gat indians, and young henry took charge of ing quickly the bravest of the horsemen, he the large estate and managed it with con made a dash for a bridge farther up the summate skill for a year or more. the stream, which was held by the foe. the lees had been the stanchest of royalists diversion gave hamilton time to get away, and churchmen for a century, but they but that officer was much concerned for were virginians first of all, and when the lee's safety. the gallant lee, however, rights of the colony were threatened stood cut his way to the other shore and im- forth, without hesitation, in the front rank mediately dispatched word to washington of patriots. revolution was in the air. of hamilton's peril. as the general was patrick henry was thrilling the burgesses reading this dispatch colonel hamilton and people with the fire of his eloquence. rode up to report lee's probable loss. jefferson had just printed his "summary during the terrible winter of ' and ' view of the rights of british america,” at valley forge, lee's high and hopeful and richard henry lee had conceived temper, his youthful cheerfulness and en- and brought about the committees of cor- thusiasm, served to inspirit officers and respondence which united the colonies. troops. he laughed to scorn all thought young henry's patriotism was ardent. of discouragement, and was at once so full he set himself to the study of military of energy and cautious courage that his lit- science; he read with relish and zeal the tle command, which owing to his rigid history of every european war. his love care was among the few effectives, was of horses, his delight in riding and skill as sent on many daring missions, and he a horseman made him choose the cavalry kept washington informed of the enemy's arm of service, and in , at the age of movements. his system of tactics was as twenty, he received a captain's commission efficient as it was novel, and he so annoyed in the virginia dragoons. he drilled his the outposts of the foe that the british company with unflagging effort. it be- commanders determined to destroy his came noted for the precision, dash and command and capture his person. in rapidity of its maneuvers. in september, january, ' , when scouting and foraging , he joined washington's army in in the neighborhood of the enemy's line, pennsylvania. he advanced close to their outposts with general henry lee ten picked men. a british officer dis- a british officer dis- rally so strong that apparently no fear of covered his move, and dispatched two hun attack was entertained. mad anthony dred troopers to take him. lee's four wayne's achievement in storming and cap- patrols were seized, but they gave alarm turing stony point had stirred the emula- and the young captain threw his little tion of young major lee. from wash- force into a stone house and derided the ington he begged and obtained leave to summons to surrender. an assault was attempt the assault of paulus hook. it made, but lee, well fortified and armed, seemed a mad venture. the point lay out defended himself with desperate valor. a some distance in the river, and the only hotter little battle never took place. the land approach was by a sandy isthmus, wind- british, confident in their overwhelming ing along and crossing which was a deep numbers, attacked on all sides of the house. creek, and between the creek and the fort lee's men were few, but he had with him a canal had been dug across the isthmus. the crack shots of his company and was this trench was crossed by a drawbridge, no mean marksman himself. the fight on the fort side of which was a barred raged for an hour. the assaulting troop- gate, and beyond the gate a double row of ers were without protection, and lee and abattis surrounding the fort. its capture his little band picked off their officers. seemed hopeless, but the enterprise aroused after suffering severely the british retired lee's daring genius. he laid his plans to cover to devise new measures, and lee, with the utmost secresy, and on the after- with no loss except his patrols, made a noon of the th of august, , started dashing escape. his services during that on his march. his three hundred troops winter of intense suffering won him the he divided into two bodies, which were to rank of major, and his proved resourceful take different routes to avoid arousing sus- ness as an independent leader soon brought picion. but in the march his supporting him the command of a partisan corps of column unfortunately got lost. lee at the three companies of cavalry, with a small head of the other party arrived at his des- body of supporting infantry. with this tination near the fort at midnight. for command he continued to render most con three nervous hours he awaited the arrival spicuous service. the celerity with which of the other column, and then, daylight ap- he moved, his impetuous dash, which yet proaching and the tide rapidly rising, he was always prudent, led washington to se ordered an advance. with a rush the men lect him for skirmishing and foraging duty plunged into the swamp and through the during the campaign of ' . his youth waist-deep creek-lee at their head. they delayed promotion, but his fame grew. were not discovered. silently they plunged he began to be called “legion harry” into the canal, but when they were climb- and “light horse harry lee.” detached ing over the abattis the alarm was given. bodies of the enemy's troops were always a volley of musketry saluted them, but cautioned to look out for lee's ubiquitous they answered it only with a shout as they light dragoons. at the head of his fleet broke for the fort. it was a mad and lu- troop of horse-legion, he loved to call it dicrous race for the inner defenses, between he had a variety of romantic adventures the outer garrison and the assaulting party. and keen races with the enemy's cavalry. in they went together, but lee's men were all of which suited his enthusiastic youth. superior in numbers and desperately in but a more momentous service awaited earnest. the commanding officer of the him in the south, and in so brief a sketch fort and sixty of the inner garrison, utterly we can only mention his most brilliant ex surprised though they were, had time to ploits while with the army of the north. throw themselves into a block-house to the in the summer of , while stationed left of the fort. after bayoneting a few near the hudson a little south of the high- of the remaining one hundred and sixty, lands, lee discovered on one of his frequent the rest surrendered and were made pris- scouting expeditions that the british fort oners. daylight now dawned. the fort at paulus hook, opposite new york and could not be held, and the alarm had on the site of the present water front of reached the other shore. there was no jersey city, was occupied by a careless and time to reduce the block-house or even negligent garrison. the place was natu to destroy the fort. the cannons were the outing magazine spiked, light arms seized, the prisoners did in truth win victory through defeat quickly marshaled and a retreat begun. and showed himself one of the greatest it was a headlong affair, for lee was hard strategists in the world. he appreciated pressed by british light dragoons thrown lee at his full worth. with the rank of across from new york, but after a desper lieutenant colonel, that young officer now ate race and some sharp skirmishing he led his legion, acting much of the time reached safety with all his prisoners and independently. he commanded the rear the loss of but two men. it was a brilliant guard, the post of greatest danger, in the and gallant exploit. thousands of the retreat into virginia, and fought and won best british troops were just across the a brisk cavalry battle with the british hudson and the post was supposedly im troopers. after greene had made his es- pregnable. it was in fact, as one ameri cape, lee was sent with his light dragoons can historian has suggested, something into north carolina to harass cornwallis, "like pulling the king's nose upon his and at this time a picturesque incident oc- throne.” curred: on the march he met with a mes- lee served with increasing fame in the senger from colonel pyle, who commanded north; in every engagement he distin a regiment of tories that were endeavoring guished himself for gallant conduct, and to join cornwallis. the messenger, not when the affairs of the colonies became so suspecting that any hostile cavalry could pitifully desperate in the south after gates' be in the district, mistook lee for colonel crushing defeat, he was one of the officers tarleton, the british cavalry chief; lee selected by washington to serve under allowed the mistake to pass, assumed to be greene, who had taken command of the tarleton, and sent the messenger back remnants of the shattered army in the with orders to colonel pyle to bring on his carolinas. the commander-in-chief wrote troops in haste. after waiting a little congress that "major lee has rendered time he marched to meet the advancing such distinguished service and possesses tories, and falling upon them completely so many talents,” and that “he deserves so destroyed the force. much credit for the perfection in which he just before the battle of guilford court has kept his corps, as well as for the hand house, lee, again in the american rear some exploits he has performed.” in so nearest the advancing enemy, suddenly brief a sketch we can only give the most wheeled and dashed against the british fragmentary glimpses of him in his new advance guard under the savage tarleton field, where he won such brilliant laurels and and drove it back upon the main line, in- proved himself the ablest commander of flicting much loss. he spoke very mod- cavalry in the war. estly of this victory, and ascribed it to the greene's task was as momentous as ever superior weight of his horses. colonel fell to a commander. to suffer one real tarleton's horses were much inferior to defeat would have been the ruin of the ours, he said. “when we met, the momen- cause of independence, for he led the last tum of the one must crush the other.” army, ill-equipped, inadequate, unpaid, at the battle of guilford court house, half starved, that the colonies could bring march , , lee, though deserted by into the field to oppose cornwallis in the the militia that was to support him, fought south, and he had to face an able and with desperate valor, and held the british experienced general commanding the best at bay, and again covered greene's re- troops britain could muster. greene scarce treat. he was the hero of a day so stub- ly dared risk a victory for fear of its bornly fought that though the british were cost. he fought, inflicted what damage left masters of the field their casualties he could and then retired. “we fight, were tremendous, and cornwallis was com- get beaten and fight again,” he wrote pelled to retreat and leave his wounded to washington, and the great charles fox ex the care of greene. “the name of victory claimed in the british commons after one was the sole enjoyment of the conqueror, of greene's defeats-a defeat which had the substance belonged to the vanquished." cost cornwallis nearly forty per cent. of when cornwallis withdrew into virginia his command-“another such a victory to so cruelly waste the land and to destroy would destroy the british army." greene property to the value of fifty millions of general henry lee came. dollars, a fabulous sum in those early days, other. never was a more perplexing mo- and to end the war in his own destruc ment.” with every change of front a new tion at yorktown, greene's army marched alarm came from flank or rear. lee was south again and lee joined that greatest of now sure he was surrounded by the enemy guerilla chiefs, marion, in south carolina. in force, who “had reconnoitered with their joint exploits in the reduction of perseverance and placed himself in every forts watson and mott we have already spot most certain of success.” but lee mentioned in the sketch of marion. lee's determined to fight and attempt to cut his command, uniting with pickens, afterward way through when the daylight attack assaulted and took fort grierson, and laid * brave soldiers can always be siege to and captured fort cornwallis, the trusted with the situation,” says lee. he defenses to augusta. he led one of the "passed along the line of infantry, made assaulting columns against the celebrated known our condition, reminding them of british post known as ninety-six, when their high reputation, enjoining profound greene attempted to storm that strong silence, and assuring them with their cus- hold, and displaying his habitual intrepid tomary support there was no doubt but ity, was successful. but as the supporting that a way could be forced to the pedee.” column failed, he was compelled to relin to the cavalry he “briefly communicated quish his victory. the dangers that surrounded us, mingled all through the desperate war in the with expressions of thorough confidence south lee showed not only unsurpassed that every man would do his duty.” so daring but also what washington called the dark hours of suspense wore away. “his great resources of genius.” then, with the first glimpses of daylight, lee was a scholar and a man of letters, “the van officer directed his attention to no less than a man of action. he wrote the road for the purpose of examining the a lucid and impartial account of greene's trail of our active foe, when to his astonish- campaigns, and his volume of reminiscences ment he found the track of a large pack of and greene's dispatches are the chief au wolves,” and on examination it was found thorities for the history of the war in the that the beasts, interrupted in their march, carolinas. from his graphic accounts had passed entirely around the camp. of bloody battles he sometimes digresses our agitation vanished and was succeed- gracefully. he tells, among a hundred ed by facetious glee. nowhere do wit others, this incident that occurred on one and humor abound more than in camps. of his independent expeditions, which he never had a day's march been more pleas- thinks "worthy of relation from its sin ant. for a time the restraint of discipline gularity.” he was moving secretly and ceased. every character, not excepting swiftly to join marion and was in camp the commanders, was hit, and very salutary near the little pedee. “between two and counsel was imparted to him by the men three in the morning the officer of the day under cover of a joke.” lee tells another was informed that a strange noise had been remarkable story, the romantic interest of heard in front of the picket stationed on which leads us to include it: when savan- the great road near the creek, resembling nah was invested by the american army, that occasioned by men marching through captain french, with a small body of brit- a swamp. presently toward that quarter ish regulars and five small vessels, was sta- the sentinel fired, which was followed by tioned twenty miles up the river, and the the sound of the bugle calling in the horse proximity of the american force made him patrols, as was our custom on the advance nervous. col. john white of the georgia of the enemy. the troops were immedi line wanted to capture this detachment, ately summoned to arms and arrayed for but no soldiers could be spared by the defense. the officer of the day and one american general for the undertaking. patrol concurred in asserting that they now the colonel was a determined and heard plainly the progress of horsemen, masterful man and resolved to make the concealing with the utmost care their ad venture on his own account. he persuad- vance. in a few moments, in a different ed his three orderlies and captain etholm quarter of our position, another sentinel aid him. at the fall of night they built fired, and soon from another quarter an a great many fires in the woods near the the outing magazine ance. british post, arranged so as to give the im into order of battle. “the north caro- pression of a hostile camp of large force. lina militia under colonel malmedy, with then the colonel and his four friends, “im that of south carolina led by brigadiers itating the manner of the staff, rode with marion and pickens, making the first, and haste in various directions, giving orders the continentals making the second line; in a loud voice. french became satisfied lieut. colonel campbell with the virginians that a large body of the enemy were upon on the right, brigadier sumner with the him, and being summoned by colonel white, north carolinians in the center, and the he surrendered his detachment, the crews marylanders conducted by williams and of five vessels and one hundred and thirty howard on the left, resting its left flank on stand of arms.” colonel white pretended the charleston road. lee with his legion that he must keep back his troops, as tory was charged with the care of the right, as outrages had infuriated them and indis was henderson with his corps with that of criminate slaughter might take place. he the left flank.” the artillery was divided took the parole of the british captain and between the front and the rear lines, and soldiers not again to serve, gave them three lieut. colonel washington commanded the guides, his orderlies, to escort them to safe reserves. one of the bloodiest and most quarters, and hurried them away before important of revolutionary encounters daybreak lest the fury of his pretended followed. the militia fell back after a soldiers should fall upon them. “the af stout resistance, but their place was im- fair approaches too near the marvelous," mediately filled up by the continentals, adds lee, "to have been admitted into and for an hour victory hung in the bal- these memoirs, had it not been uniformly then it was that the genius of lee asserted at the time, as uniformly accred asserted itself and saved the army and ited, and never contradicted.” perhaps the cause. perceiving that, his greene, aided by such independent corps extreme right overreached the enemy's as those commanded by lee and by col. line, he gathered it together, formed it with william washington, a distant relation of masterly skill, and then hurled it with all the commander-in-chief and after lee the his fury upon the left flank of the enemy, most brilliant of american cavalry lead who were thus doubled back in confusion, ers, and by the partisan troops led by the and then by a general and spirited advance great marion and by pickens, sumner and along the whole american front, driven others, had at length won every post in with great slaughter from their camp. the interior of the carolinas, and the british "in our pursuit we took three hundred fell back toward the coast. as always, prisoners and two pieces of artillery.” a greene hung upon their heels, striking great victory seemed to have been gained. when he could. finally, having united but unfortunately greene's half-famished the partisan bands with his main army, he pursuing soldiers, in passing through the stole upon the enemy's camp near eutaw captured british camp, scented the break- springs, and here was fought what proved fast that had been preparing when the to be his last pitched battle. here, too, enemy was surprised, and unable to resist lieut. colonel lee rendered by his impetu- stopped, in spite of their officers' efforts to ous daring his most important service during urge them on, to satisfy their ravenous the campaign. lee's account of the battle hunger. unfortunately, too, colonel wash- is as modest as it is lucid, and we may be ington, who had struck the enemy's reserve pardoned if we quote a few sentences. he in an attempt to gain the rear, had not been always speaks of himself in the third per as fortunate as lee but, entangled in the son. “greene advanced at four in the brush, his horse fell under him and he was morning, sept. , , in two columns, wounded and taken prisoner. the forces with artillery at the head of each, lieut. opposed to him, however, had fallen back colonel lee in front and lieut. colonel wash to cover their defeated comrades, but the ington in his rear." a foraging party and delay of the too tempting breakfast gave their guards were put to flight and partly the british time to re-form, and advancing captured. still advancing, they struck the upon the american soldiers as they ate, british line of battle drawn up in front of they regained their camp. the account the camp. the americans at once fell would seem ludicrous if it did not so piti- general henry lee fully attest the pinching want of the ameri of his staff should be such as he could place can troops. eutaw springs, however, was confidence in,” and asked that colonel lee a substantial victory. the americans, be made a major general. he often testi- driven from the british camp, re-formed and fied to his “love and thanks" to lee as a were ready to advance again, when night man; indeed the fact that both washington fell and the battle ceased, and greene was and lee were of the patrician stock of the obliged to retire to a quarter where water old dominion, and the further fact that could be secured. part of the british, lee's mother was that early sweetheart of however, had never stopped in their flight, the great chief to whom in his ardent youth and next day the whole british force de he wrote verses, have led some to think camped, after destroying their baggage and that his favor rested not altogether on in- stores. lee, as usual, was in hot pursuit. trinsic value. but lee's record as a soldier he met and defeated the cavalry of the was won on the highest merit alone. the rear guard in a hot skirmish; he also cap illustrious greene, least partial of chiefs, tured some of the enemy's wagons carrying declared himself to be under an obligation the wounded, but, as he says, “the success to lee that he “could never cancel," and turned out to be useless, for the miserable on an occasion of some slight difference wounded supplicated so fervently to be between them he wrote lee: “i believe permitted to proceed that lieut. colonel that few officers, either in europe or amer- lee determined not to add to their misery ica, are held in so high a point of estimation and to his trouble, but taking off his own as you are. everybody knows i have the wounded, returned to marion, leaving the highest opinion of you as an officer, and wagons and their wounded to continue their you know i love you as a friend. no man route.” eutaw springs had been bloodily in the progress of the campaign had equal contested. “of six commandants of regi merit with yourself.” ments bearing continental commissions, lee was twenty-seven years old when williams and lee only were unhurt.” the the treaty of peace was signed, and thirty- british had , men, greene , , and five years of conspicuously useful and hon- the ratio of loss was nearly twenty-five per orable life that was full of interesting inci- cent. to each army. greene fell back to dents remained to him. but we have to the high hills to recuperate. nearly one confine ourselves to sketching thus im- half of his army was disabled by wounds or perfectly the adventurous career of this sickness. unpaid for months, much of the able, brilliant, devoted and dauntless pa- time half clad and underfed-never were triot. he was sent to congress several soldiers more patriotic. and they fought times by his district; he was governor of with unsurpassed valor. the armies of virginia from to . while gov- the revolution were small, but their bat ernor he was selected by congress to lead tles were terribly sanguinary. no such the troops that suppressed the whiskey ratio of loss is recorded in any modern rebellion in pennsylvania. he was in con- wars. gress when washington died, and being eutaw springs proved to be lee's last appointed to pronounce the eulogium, was battle of any consequence. he was sent the author of those words of eulogy which by greene to consult with washington have been more quoted than perhaps any when the british had retired upon charles words ever spoken in the national legis- ton, and before he returned cornwallis lature, “first in war, first in peace, and had surrendered at yorktown, oct. , first in the hearts of his countrymen.' . lee had won a military fame of with the election of jefferson, lee re- imperishable glory at the age of twenty tired to private life. he was twice mar- five. washington's opinion of him as a ried. by his first wife, a second cousin soldier we have seen, and when in , named matilda lee, he came into a large after his presidential terms, he accepted estate which included the old manor house again supreme command of the national of stratford, the seat of the founder of the army and found himself, as he wrote american branch of the lee family. he hamilton, “embarking once more upon a had received a good property from his boundless field of responsibility and trou father and was now a wealthy man. but ble," he wished that "the principal officers lordly living and lavish hospitality im- the outing magazine paired his fortune, and his later life was west indies proving of no avail, he re- embarrassed by pecuniary troubles. by turned to die in the land he had so ably his second wife he left a large family, and and nobly served. his gallant spirit his masculine descendants have added to passed away at cumberland island, geor- the glory of american arms. gia, on the th of march, . one more warlike and unfortunate ad lee was a very handsome man, above venture awaited his last years. riots had the average height, and was possessed of a resulted in baltimore in from publi sweet and frank temper. his social charm cations in the federal republican of that was equal to his courage and capacity. city, and the mob destroyed the printing he was in all ways typical of the best blood house and threatened the home of the of the south. if he appreciated his own editor. he was a warm personal friend, worth, his high breeding forbade offense. and the chivalric spirit of lee prompted his generous mode of life sprang from old him to offer his services in the defense of custom and aristocratic training, but he his house. two of the mob were killed was republican to the core, and underwent and many wounded. the military au the hardships of the most arduous and thorities found it necessary to shield lee terrible campaigns with unruffled spirit. and his friends from the fury of the rioters he was fitted to shine in many fields, and by lodging them in the city jail, but in the is one of the most brilliant characters of night the mob reassembled in overpower our early history. but perhaps when all ing numbers, broke open the jail and killed is said his greatest distinction in the heart or frightfully maimed the inmates. lee of his native south is that he was the father barely escaped with his life and he never of the beloved and able leader of the armies regained his health. a sea voyage to the of the confederacy. midsummer by l. m. montgomery the world is in its splendor of a lavish, fair outflowering, and in the idle valleys the dreams are thick and sweet, while every wind from golden west and purple south is showering the petals of the roses all about our gypsy feet. in every glen and dingle, in every poppied meadow, is upgathered all the ripeness and the sweetness of the year; all the hills are drunk with sunshine, all the woodways pranked with shadow. oh, the best that ever artist limned or poet sung is here! winkler shore vi. winkler's duchess by gouverneur morris illustrated by frederic dorr steele t were after we found the money in the and the pictures of various kings and queens pest house, sir,” said winkler, "that that had had their heads cut off for eating brainie m'gan, as ever was, an' me too much bread. and the next day we run out of a job in southampton, and visited the invalids, which is mostly dead, allowed we'd have an outing on the con and had dinner at a place with sawdust on tinong and take a look at the chief dovers the floor, off a duck which the man put of art and religion that has retracted the whole with a piece of lemon into a kind of progress of the old world since the time of cotton-press and squeezed into soup plates, the merojinjin kings. through a spiggot. and then brainie he “so we bought swell clothes, and crossed began to kick. says he: to cherbourg in a old side-wheeler, that "winkler, this may be your idea of doin' was forsakin' by everything except rats. paris, but it ain't mine. paris is the place you'll have been to cherbourg, sir, and for women and wine, winkler, and i passes taken note of the fine break-water with out no more money to institortions. to- cannons along the top, and the hills and day we'll tank up at the different coffees on apple orchards beyond the town. cher the avenue delopera, and to-night we'll bourg is a famous summer resort for chasten this antique city and paint her red. french warships, but it's knowed chiefly i'm for my money's worth,' says brainie, because of the hand-to-hand encounter and he give me a leer and jingled the gold which once occurred there between two in his pockets. american ships, and because of a race in “what could i do, sir, being weak and which an english yacht tried to cheat an easy led, and brainie that masterful and american yacht out of a cup that she had determined? won. “sooner than see you make a beast of "well, sir, we went aboard a train, and yourself, brainie,' says i, “i'll drink with traveled first-class, like gentlemen, to paris; you till i can't see at all, and if you finishes and there we went to a fashionable hotel up in the morgue,' says -'and mighty and started in to do the town. snug you'd look on one of them slabs with “the first day in the morning we went the water runnin' over you-it won't be for to the louver, and come out with head- solitary drinkin', which is against decency aches and kinks in the backs of our necks. and nature.' and brainie he let on to be in love with the “so we went to the nearest coffee on the venis der milo, and said if she ever come to avenue delopera, and it weren't necessary life she could stow her clothes in his chest, to go no further. which were perlite, but misleadin'. in the “brainie and me begun by callin' for a afternoon we visited notre dam and the gin-fizz apiece, for there was a sign in eng- morgue—the first because it sounded pro lish which allowed that in that coffee and no fane, and the second as a warning to brainie; other they knowed how to mix american and the next day we took seats on a four drinks. we drank it down, but it weren't horse rig and drove to versels with a crowd very good. so we tried a couple of rye of fine people, and saw the fountains spout, highballs, and they was no better. and the outing magazine “ bring two,' says brainie, and they was brought. “tastes like the seed-cookies my grand- mother used to make,' says brainie, and he finished his in two swallers. then he looks toward me and seen that mine were al- ready a part of the dim past. “two more,' says brainie, and he com- menced to lick his lips. “that were a peculiar day, sir. at first there was just me and brainie conversin’ intimate and sociable, and drinkin' our drinks. and then there was four of us, all drinkin', me and brainie and two ladies that claimed to be duchesses, and looked like empresses, bein' all feathers an'friendliness; and then, sir, there was night and stars and clear water ahead, and trees and villages and lights rollin' by, and behind me some- thing spun and clicked like a big top, but i dassn't look, because just beyond my nose was a kind a long, slantin' wedge, with wa- ter rushin' round it, and whenever i moved the wedge moved, and in a second i found that my hands was glued to the spokes of a slity wheel, and that i was steerin' a boat. but it might have been a jolly shark, sir, it moved so fast, though it steered more like a salmon, and the hairs begun to stand up on "the first day we went to the louver." my head, sir, which ached. pretty soon i seen dead ahead a kind of fourth of july the cocktails we ordered next was worse celebration, but it was only the lights of than the highballs. then brainie says: a bridge. in a minute we was at it. "winkie,' says he, 'when you're in rome “heads!' i bellus, and ducks mine. but do as the romans do.' for all i knowed i were alone in the boat. “and i says, 'brainie, we ain't in rome, beyond the bridge there was the outskirts but i'm open to anything except another of two towns, one on each side of the river, american drink.' and then dark forests and wide water. i “done with you,' says brainie, and he steadies the wheel and looks round. in cheeped to the head-waiter, who was a bust the midships section of the boat -- she in' frenchman that talked a little english; might have been sixty foot long - | seed and brainie says: a chunk of metal which give out the spin- “when a french gentleman wants a ning noise, and the shadder picture of a drink what does he order? i don't mean what does he order when he feels like a swig “what boat is this?' i sings out. of slops or dishwater, but when his tongue “search me,' comes back a voice, and it is hangin' out of his mouth, and his hands were brainie's. is twitchin', and his feet is restless, and the “how'd we get here?' i calls. money is burnin' his pockets, and he wants search me,' says brainie. a drink.' “slow her down,' says i. “'absinthe,' says the head - waiter, “bin trying to for a hour,' says brainie. 'dripped.' 'she's a motor boat. i run one a year ago "what's that?' says brainie. on the hudson, but this is a new kind.' “it's long,' says , ‘and it's green and “the words weren't out of his mouth cool;' for i was better edoocated than when the spinnin' noise stopped, and the brainie. boat commenced to slow down. man. winkler ashore “got it,' says brainie. oh, man, but “and while we talked and planned, sir, i'm in a lather.' the duchesses fixed each other's hair as “a minute or two more, sir, and the only well as they could, and the stars begun to headway we had was give us by the current dim, and we drifted down the river in the of the river. dawn. “now,' says brainie, 'ask them what it “after a time brainie he got the hang of means!' the engines, and the day broke, bright and “them!' says i, and i looked in the blue. we made out that the boat's name bottom of the boat; and there, sir, by all was la fleche—which is the french for that's holy, clinched like two wrestlers in arrer—and brainie set the engines goin' the rubber boat, was the two duchesses. very slow, and we mosled down the river “ladies,' i says, 'where are we?' till it got to be breakfust time. “then, sir, the duchess which was my “there was nothin' to drink in the boat especial duchess she sat up, and begun to but gasoline (which is only a little safer than tidy her hair and reach for her hat. absinthe, sir), and nothin' to eat but the “where are we, duchess?' says i. duchesses; so we held a parley which led to “then the other one she sat up and nothin', until, by and by, we come to the commenced to tidy her hair. mouth of a creek which was all hemmed “them duchesses has lost their tongues,' about with thick trees, and the duchess says brainie. “wasn't we all talkin' friend which were my particular duchess—and a ly enough in the coffee? wasn't we? and particular white duchess, by your leave, sir, now they don't understand nothin'.' -she motioned to me to run the boat into “now that i think of it, brainie,' says i, the creek, which i done. we had a light ‘they didn't talk none. but whenever i skiff towin' behind, half full of water, and spoke up they nodded and smiled.' the duchess which were my particular duch- "they done the same for me,' says ess, she signaled brainie to fetch her along- brainie, sharp as a pin. ‘and if they didn't side, which brainie were in no hurry to do. talk none, you foolish little man, how did if ever a man's face looked like a disser- we get on to the fact of them bein' duch- pated why, sir, it were brainie's. but my esses? i asks you that.' duchess she understood, which were be- “maybe they was introduced to us, you cause she were a white duchess. first she hair-splittin' nicumpoop,' says i. and points to her mouth, then to her bosom, however it were, it don't matter none. the and nods her head and smiles. then she facts is what we want. whose boat is this makes out to be chewin'. then she points and how did we get her?' off through the trees and jumps up and down “we don't know whose she is,' says brainie, ‘and we think we stole her.' “then we'll go to jail,' says , ‘us and the duchesses.' “not if you're the man i takes you for,' says brainie, ‘and not if i can mother this engine,' says he. we'll run for it, and they might as well fish for a shark that won't take bait, as to chase after this jigamaree.' "how about coal?' says i. “they burn coal under your grand- mother's grid,' says brainie, “but this here's a motor boat, sabe, and she burns gasoline. she's gasolined for a week.' “what will we do with the duchesses?' says . “we'll learn 'em english and manners,' says brainie, ‘and take 'em for a bang-up cruise. and send them home with their hearts broke and their pockets bulgin' with money.' "all feathers and friendliness." the outing magazine . and then she points to the boat. then she and it come out that she was a sure-enough points to that part of her dress which would duchess, out for a lark, and that brainie's have been a trousers pocket if she had been duchess were only a lady's maid, and that a man, and then she holds out her hand we was on the river sane somewheres be- palm up, toward me, and says: tween paris and the channel. then i asked “cheenk-cheenk-if you please.' the duchess how much of a lark she was out “the poor, profane creature has gone for, and she allowed she had inflooential nutty,' says brainie. friends in england, and wanted to know if "nutty yourself,' says i, 'she's askin' me and brainie could get her acrost in the me for money, so's she can go and get food motor boat. we allowed we could if there and drink;' and i says to my duchess, kind were no perlice interference and the weath- of playful, sir: er were clear, because the fleche, or arrer, “duchess want chink-chink-sabe?' could knock the stuffin' out of thirty-knots “and the duchess she nodded her head without raisin' her feathers. and laughed. and the upshot were that we “so we poled out of the creek, for there set her ashore with a gold piece and our best was no way of backin' the arrer, and begun wishes. but brainie's duchess she were to slip down the river again, under what lazy, and she curled up on the cushions brainie called our third speed, which were a and went to sleep. rate of goin' neither pell-mell nor draggin'. “after two hours' waitin' we hears a voice “my duchess made me learn her to steer, like a little girl's way off in the woods, and standin' in the bows with her garmints callin': pressin' into her with the wind, she looked “allo, 'meestairs, good morning, please, like the woman called the winged victory allo, all right.' in the louver, only she had a head and a “and we shouts in answer, and brainie's hat with feathers, which is items that the duchess woke up, lookin' underfed, and my victory were shipped without. duchess she come a-waltzin' through the “the reason we didn't go fast were trees, with her eyes bright as stars and a big brainie's. he said if we kind of sort of hamper in each hand. loafed along nobody would suspect us of "them hampers contained wine, sir, and nothin', and that when the pinch come it water, and roasted chickens and strawber would be time to show clean heels. ries, and milk and a brown jar of cream with “that were a happy cruise. whenever a strawberry leaf tied over the top, and we got hungry or thirsty we hove to, and clubs of bread, and a hunk of cheese painted set the duchess ashore with the empty ham- red on one side; and the duchess, my duch pers and waited till she come back with 'em ess, sir, she spread them out, and she sat full. and then the other duchess that clost to me, sir, and she laughed and talked were a fake duchess would cheer up. but in french, sir, and swore in english, till it there were nothing real class about her, seemed to me like i had died and woke up like my duchess. and she couldn't talk in heaven, sir. two words of no languidge excep' french, “the other duchess-brainie's, as was and so i guess she didn't hand that out she showed some signs of life, sir, but that any too precise. was mostly those of a shark. and it "well, sir, it were all too happy to last. weren't till she had fed that her laugh had when we passed a town the people come any heart in it. out on the wharves and waved to us some, "and now,' says i, 'girls and boys, but nobody seemed on to us bein' robbers what's to be done? i wish i knowed in a stole boat. where we was.' “and we come in time to the mouth of “and brainie says, “try 'em in spanish. the sane, which is two curved dikes of spanish don't sound like english and stone with a flag on the end of each one, french don't sound like english, so it before there were any trouble. there was looks as if spanish and french ought to a lot of men in high hats standin'round the sound alike.' flags on one of the dikes, and the minute we “so i hove california spanish into my hove into sight a puff of white smoke come duchess hot. and she answered back, out from among their legs, and they begun makin' sounds that i could understand. to wave their arms and look up river. at winkler ashore first we thought it was us they was lookin' under the cliffs of britain, we was half at, but the duchess, who were steerin', she drownded. looked over her shoulder and give a squall, “but my duchess she only laughed and and there tearin' down the river after us swore, and she run the arrer straight for a was six motor-boats, the water roarin’ harbor that were full of yachts dressed in white about them. flags of all nations. two of the yachts was “let her go,' i yells to brainie, and lyin' to under mainsails, and each mainsail makes for the wheel. but the duchess she had a big black number on it. the duchess pushed me aside, and she says in spanish, she made for the line between them yachts, with a laugh: ‘place for the ladies. and and the second she crossed it one of them she steadied the arrer straight between the let go a cannon. and then, sir, the sailing flags with one hand, and with the other she yachts they let off cannons and the steam pulled the pins, which had diamond heads yachts they let off whistles and sirens, till to 'em, out of her hat, and threw the pins you'd a thought they was mad, and every- and the hat into the bottom of the boat. body yelled and waved their hats. "by that the other boats was almost on “the duchess she told me to tell brainie us, and i looked to be took. but brainie to slow down, which he done, and then she he weren't idle. and the arter she give a run the arrer alongside a wharf. and jerk and a jump, her stern settled, her brainie and me made her fast and clumb bows riz, and she moved for england like a ashore. i hove up the duchess, and telegram. brainie he hove up the fake duchess, and “just as we run between the flags the then, sir, because we didn't darst to be gents in the high hats took a crack at us took, we made for to give 'em the slip, sir. with the cannon they had. brainie and me but i says to mine in spanish, i says: we dropped ourselves like hot horseshoes, “they'll be easy on you, my dear, bein'a and the fake duchess fetched a screech woman, and you can say as it were me stole and commenced to gruvel in the bottom of the boat and made you come. and here's the boat. but my duchess, she never all the money i've got, for your trouble,' moved, only smiled and kissed her hand to says i. 'and you're my fancy,' i says, 'for them as had tried to murder her. to cruise with, and here's a kiss, my dear, “the six motor-boats was hard on us, for good-by.' and splitting theirselves to close up, but the "but the duchess she pushed away the flags, sir, was a part of history, they was money, which were all i had, and she backed that far behind the times. when i looked off from the kiss, which i forgot to say that two of the perlice boats that was after at no time she hadn't let me kiss her nor us was suddenly jerked backward from hold her hand, even though for the rest she the 'bunch. and another begun to lose were very friendly. and she hauled a silk ground. but there was three left, runnin' purse out of her pocket, bulgin' with gold, neck and neck and lookin' hungry. and it and she slips it to me, and says—and she seemed to me they was closin' up some. says it in sure-enough english, sir, which and every second i thought they'd pull proved that she'd being guyin' us from the guns and try to pot us. but they must start-says she: have left the perlice station in a hurry and “i thought you was sober when i en- forgot to bring anything but their clubs. gaged you, mr. winkler. but you was full not a shot were fired. of absinthe, it seems, and when we come “them three boats, sir, held us half way aboard, and your companion, who is a to england. then we struck into a tide low fellow, couldn't manage the motor, i rip, cross wind and chop sea all to onct, and thought we was lost. the plan was to stop that fixed two of 'em. the third she kep’ at my chato, and pick up my husband and on, but she weren't in the runnin'! messed my clothes for the motor race between waters was the arrer's strong point. but france and england. but we wasn't able strong waters more in the fake to stop, and it was too late to go back, and duchess's line. and the only thing she i was daft to have my boat win, and that's could hold on to were the arrer's port rail. the argument. i overheard your low com- the spray hit us, sir, like shots out of a panion talking to you about motor-boats, gun, and when we come to smooth water and that was how i come to engage him, for was the outing magazine but you my shofer had been took sick. had his points as a shofer, and so here's luck don't remember.' to you both. i thanks you, particular, for "no,' says i, feelin' pretty foolish. the respect you have showed to a woman “they was a crowd around us now, loaf that for all you knowed was light. and i ers and swells mixed. and the swells kep' wish you many prosperous voyages.' arrivin' in boats and climbin' up the wharf “that were the last i ever seed of my to shake the duchess's hands and admire at duchess, sir. but it don't do to mention her. but the duchess she gives me her her to brainie, sir, because she said he was a hand to shake, and she laughs and says, low beast. now brainie were a low beast, winkler, i likes you.' then she gives me sir, he couldn't deny it himself. but it a ring with a tolerable diamond in it. 'if doesn't do to tell a man the truth.” you ever wants help,' says she, ‘send this to i said good-night to winkler, and strolled the duchess of toulon, and you'll get it. aft, wondering if he had told the strict truth your friend is a low beast, winkler, but he to me. summer absence by elsa barker i wonder if the trees that beckon thee to their deep shadows in thy lone retreat are tender as my arms; and if the sweet soft yielding grass clings to thee lovingly as i in drowsy hours. the ecstasy that quivers in the ever-moving wheat whispers of love to thee, and the strong beat of nature's heart woos thee continually. love, we are one, the moving wheat and i, and the great heart of nature. when the trees beckon to thee, i beckon; when the blades of grass caress thy fingers as they lie entangled with them, i am even in these, and i am hidden in the twilight shades. the magic of the rain by charles quincy turner t of \ the observer of trifles by the way there was but one explanation, and that side there are always surprises, and was suggested by two of my experiences the longer one observes the wider years ago. the drift rubbish which had does the horizon grow. a single fact for ages covered the lower clay soil had, i stowed away to-day illumines to-morrow have said, been removed, and the seeds of the way to another otherwise passed by un thousands of years agone, opened once heeded; and the two are the key, years more to the influence of light and air and hence, to some deeply interesting problem. the magic of the rain and sunshine, had let me give a case in point, “a sermon bourgeoned and asserted their old-time in stones,” in shakespeare's and not the right. that seeds long deprived of natural conventional sense. during the month surroundings retain their vitality has been just passed it was my daily necessity to partially proved by wheat grown from pass to and fro on one of the busiest thor seeds taken from egyptian tombs, where oughfares of one of the largest of our east it had lain three thousand years; but my ern cities, where, as is common in these light to the grass-grown patch was a closer hustling days, an old-fashioned, two-storied analogy. corner store was torn down, the excavations when i was a boy i was, as all healthy at once beginning. the top surface of boys are, a bit of a collector, and amongst glacial drift stones, ranging from “nigger- other things which came to my net were heads” to coarse gravel, was very soon re butterflies. now i was not a high and dry moved, and here and there the mica-schist scientific collector, but i knew some who rock was exposed, indicating the existence were, and among the some was an old vil- of a hollow pocket with shelving rock lage tailor who spent his every spare hour around. at the bottom of the pocket, over hunting for, and capturing and breeding, the basin of rock, were two or three feet of caterpillars into butterflies and moths, and clayey marl, perhaps better described as he had in his collection some few of the brick earth. rarest kind-in fact, of presumably extinct at this point some delay arose in the species; “the great copper, species; "the great copper," i think he building operations, and a fortnight of called them in the vernacular. anyway, warm, rainy weather followed. this de where he got them and how he got them veloped over the patch of clay in the bot was the puzzle of the butterfly wiseacres. tom of the excavation a crop of a beauti it often happens that a foxy old col- fully fine, dark green grass, close and even, lector as he was enjoys the mystery of his like a lawn. naturally this little oasis in gatherings and the perplexities of his sci- the surrounding desert of sheer rock caught entific friends so much that he is obliged my eye and excited my curiosity. how to confide in somebody, in order that he did it get there? there was no apparent may have company to chuckle over their source. the site was one entirely sur bewilderment; and so my old tailor friend rounded by standing buildings, the season told me, then a youngster, where he got was not one when vagrant seeds could be them, whereby hangs the beginning of light in the air, and the velvety covering was on my patch of unexpected grass. green and close, no straggling shoots of it appeared that by some means, which stray oats. i was happily too unscientific to bother the outing magazine about, he had become acquainted with two days to the influences of heavenly light and or three curious facts. first, that under air and the magic of the rain. 'twas but neath an old white-sand sea bottom left a few days; the blaster and the excavator high and dry miles inland and given up to cut short its career ere seed-time. the rabbits and pine trees, the sand where yes, the magic of the rain is wonderful! of was like silver sand (much of the con magic is the only term which covers its sistency of that on the shore of arverne wonder working; in verification of this let on the atlantic side of long island), there me add the testimony of a recent corre- was two feet beneath the surface a layer spondent on the drought which for years of black, peaty soil, and below that again had paralyzed the grassless and scorched a white marl; secondly, that if one dug downs of western queensland. through the three strata and turned them the material loss in the years of drought topsy-turvy, there would, when the rains can scarcely be comprehended. in one in- came, grow on the newly exposed surface stance out of a flock of , sheep only a beautiful cropof a species of wild mustard, survived; and out of a herd of , of which plant there was no other sign in cattle only . “as the cattle and sheep the whole district; and thirdly, that on the perished, the dingoes (wild dogs) multi- wild mustard (how they got there i am plied upon the offal, until it appeared as not now discussing) he would in due season if whole districts would go back to a soli- invariably find feeding the little caterpillar tude more desolate than that which existed which ultimately became the mysterious before the foot of a white man touched butterfly for which the savants hungered. the australian soil.” now it so happened that many years at last, where rain had been unknown afterward a railway invaded this very for years the clouds, in the figurative words much left alone district, and scoring its of the psalmist, literally "dropped fatness way in cuttings through the slight eleva over two thirds of the continent. tions, transported the soil therefrom to before its advent "there was one long form viaducts over the shallow interven panorama of desolation. ground burnt ing valleys. i saw the line in course of con and calcined without a blade of green to struction the most part of one winter, and lighten the dead monotony. from rail- i traveled over it in the following july, way fence to horizon there was absolutely when i saw half a mile of both sides of a nothing. the line of the horizon cut hard viaduct literally covered, without room to against the sky, with no softening outline. drop a stone between, with millions and near by the ground was cracked and fis- millions of the most glorious scarlet pop sured, and in the middle distance were pies—a gleam of color the like of which clumps of dejected trees that told of a i never expect to see again. i had occa watercourse that once fed them. at wy- sion to be in that neighborhood for a few andra the downs, broader and more exten- days, and as i knew the contractor who sive than ever before, stretched in hopeless made that viaduct, i asked him to point barrenness to the limit of the view. there out to me the cutting from which the soil was not even a dead twig to break the had been removed for this bank. there level. there is no adjective in the english were no poppies in all that district, and i language to describe it. awful, terrible, was satisfied then and am now that all that horrible, are each inadequate. and most wealth of poppy glow came from long- pitiful of all were the long lines of felled buried seed turned up by the spade and mulga, the only thing that kept the sheep wheelbarrow into the daylight and the alive until they died and the dust came and rain again, and, glorying in a new birth, mercifully hid their bones. but great is created a new world of beauty. the soft magic of the falling rain! at its from all which i feel satisfied of the touch the gray, heat-wasted, desolate land- possibility and indeed high probability scape turned emerald green, and grew lush that my grass patch in the city excavation with grass. what was yesterday the floor came from seed buried for ages beneath of a sahara, became to-day a mass of herb- the ice cap and the débris of the glacial age which the moist english valleys and moraine, and opened by the enterprising canal-fed meadows of holland in summer twentieth-century engineer for a few brief time might envy.' caspar whitney's success whether this australian drought of island of ascension, eight or nine hundred years' duration, like so many others which miles away, and lest some adventurers have settled into permanence, arose from should pick up this unconsidered trifle and the natural or commercial denudation of use it surreptitiously for a vantage place, the woodlands i cannot say; but which great britain sent a naval and military ever the cause, it no way lessens the value of expedition and took possession of it. they the fact that a treeless country is a rainless found it a barren heap, the residual product country (whereof americans cannot be too of ages of volcanic eruption, a barren cone often reminded), and thereby let me in- sloping down from its central crater to stance the island of ascension to me one the sea in all directions. no drop of rain of the most interesting examples of cause ever fell upon its scorched and withered and effect within my knowledge. sides. to begin at the beginning, for the sake the englishmen were there, however, of an exact comprehension let any reader to stay and for duty, and though they had turn to a good atlas, and he will find the to send to st. helena for every drop of smallest of small specks indicated in the water they used, they set about a beginning southern atlantic about half way between of making something grow toward sustain- the coasts of south america and africa, ing life, or at least modifying its conditions. roughly two thousand miles from each. gradually by slow degrees, but surely, that is the island of ascension, about their efforts were successful. kindly na- eight miles long and seven wide, and it ture requires but little encouragement, and is bounded on the north and south by the the dews fell and crystallized and the herb- north pole and south pole respectively. age and shrubbery spread, and little trees when one adds that it is a volcanic moun took root and shed their seed, and the tain ten thousand feet high and lies in the mountain in the long course of years be- wastes of the sea, itself absolutely water came largely covered, until at last this one- less and fruitless, sufficient has been said time waterless heap of waste products of to make it understandable why nobody a lifeless volcano became able to provide up to the year had even taken the millions upon millions of gallons of water, trouble, though it had been known three which are stored in its caverns for the ships centuries, to hoist a national flag over it. that pass to and from the cape of good however, fate was working out its salvation hope and to australia; and beneath the in a very curious byway. shades of umbrageous terraces, high up in it came about in this wise. great brit the cool air, the invalided soldier from ain had, after the battle of waterloo, taken tropical africa and india and the orient charge of the emperor napoleon and ban finds a restoring sanatorium which has ished him to the island of st. helena. fears brought back to health and life many of a filibustering expedition for effecting a weary soul and stricken body. truly his release were groundless except from one there is magic in the rain and healing in rendezvous in the world, and that was the the forests! caspar whitney's success a cablegram has just been received from caspar whitney from port of spain, trini- dad, which tells the whole story, in as far as it can be told except by mr. whitney himself after his return, of the remarkable success of his daring venture in the south american jungle: "hardest, fullest adventure, most successful exploring hunting expedition my career first man to visit hostile indians, headwaters orinoco." boats and boat-handlers by henry c. rowland not one for many years ago there was a type of yachtsman which seldom meets to-day. he had his own little club, which might be anything from the loft over a ship-chandler's to a snug bungalow along the beach. all of the members of this club were “yacht owning members and the yachts were of every sort and description, from the chesapeake “bug- eye” schooner-rigged with leg-o-mutton sails to a bay of fundy "pinkey with lines like the ace of spades and as deep as she was long: the swell racing craft was the old-fashioned "sand-bagger” sloop with its skimming-dish build and yards of boom out-board. when they raced, each owner sailed his own boat; there were separate classes, of course, but in her class the first boat home was the winner; if there happened to be wind the best nerve and the stoutest gear were apt to win out, and if there was calm there was no race, because in those days they did not build and rig boats to sail over the course in the allotted time when it was necessary to watch the flame of a match to see where the wind was from. the owners of these boats knew their crafts from truck to keel and from stem to gudgeon. often they were their own riggers, carpenters, painters and not in- frequently, builders! they were yachts- men of a frequent type, too; each watering place had its coterie, and when they were richer and went into the sport on a larger scale they sailed their own fleet schooners into foreign ports. although the conditions of modern yachting are popularly supposed to have given a great impetus to the interest and nautical skill of those who sail for pleasure, it is doubtful if this is the case. the social features, the element of fashion and gayety; in fact all of the bright and spectacular features of a thriving yacht club in the fulness of its mid-summer bloom are charm- ing and interesting, but they are crowding the true boat-lover into shoal waters while the broad-beamed “rocking-chair feet swing in mid-channel at the end of a long scope. to-day, the passion seems all for speed and style, but there are a good many non- professional sailormen left who love a stanch and able boat for her own sake, and it is probable that these will get back to early principles and rescue the sport from the hands of the faddists just as the true lovers of other sports, tennis, golf, fencing, etc., have done. the gravest fault of the modern yachts- man lies in the fact that he is too proud to begin at the foot of the ladder. there are several ways in which one may learn to handle a boat, two of which are chiefly in vogue. the first is to get a small skiff with a sail and a centerboard, dress lightly and then select the proper day. to work the problems out; the second is to buy a fair-sized sailboat and then hire a man to teach one how to handle her. of the two methods, the first is not only the quicker but also the more thorough; incidentally it is much cheaper as it saves wages and one cannot create much havoc amongst the shipping with a light, four- teen-foot skiff, and the man who owns the larger boat will invariably discharge his sailing-master before he graduates. but the principal reason which makes the sail- ing-skiff the better is that a man cannot afford to skip any of the elemental prin- ciples in boat-handling, as later on he is certain to be at times responsible for the safety of his guests. he has no right to handle a tiller until he can handle an oar; yet it is amazing to see how many of the men who sail their own boats do not know how to "scull” with the boat sweep which every small boat should carry. the evolutions of a man experimenting by himself in a sailing-skiff are interesting to himself and others, but it is wonderful how soon he will learn, and these principles which he culls by harrowing experience are the same to be applied to anything which carries a fore-and-aft rig. În fact, the sailing-skiff is in many ways more difficult to handle than the larger boat. being close to the water it does not hold the breeze as true as the tall sail, because the lower stratum of wind will strike the water and ricochet at a slightly different angle; also the force is constantly varying because each separate puff or lightening of the breeze makes itself felt at once, whereas upon a large sail, these slight variances of force and direction are averaged over the whole area of canvas. other disadvan- tages due to lightness of material, etc., are obvious. to appreciate the liberal course in boat- handling which a sailing-skiff can furnish the beginner, one has but to watch his maneuvres for a little while. this is a favorite diversion of the "rocking-chair fleet,” most of whom can box the compass, discourse on the barometer, expound the tide theory and name the head-sails on a four-masted schooner, but few, if any, of 一 ​ boats and boat-handlers whom could bring a thirty-foot sloop up cries of encouragement come from the to a sea-wall in a fresh breeze without "rocking-chair fleet and he hears the “shutting her up like an accordion.” to contact of hands on thighs. he tries to understand how much more the tyro in shove clear, but as often as he does so the the sailing-skiff gets for his money than skiff rushes back again. observing the the man in the knockabout, let us watch mainsail tugging at the sheet-rope he him from the start. he has a fifteen-foot clambers aft and lets it run. the sail sharpie (flat-bottomed) skiff with a jib and flaps, and the skiff drifts astern. (lesson mainsail rig. the boat is tied to the lee side .) headway against the wind can be lost of the club-house float by a long painter. by slacking the sheet until the wind is the beginner hauls her in and steps spilled. aboard forward of the mast. next he as he turns the cause of his trouble in his tries to slip around the mast, but the boat mind he sees that to have fouled the gang- heels toward him. he grabs the mast way he must have sailed almost directly high up, where his leverage is so great that against the wind, and he wonders how such the boat rolls him off into the water to a things can be. his eyes fall upon the chorus of delighted cries from the "rock center-board with a flash of understanding. ing-chair fleet. the water is waist deep solved! he hauls up the board with a and in climbing back into his craft he slam and shoves in the pin. (lesson .) grips the mast low down near its foot where to sail against the wind, i.e., tack, one he discovers that it will bear his weight. needs a center-board. (lesson .) the higher the strain on the having drifted clear of impedimenta he mast the greater the tax on the stability tries to steer off before the wind, but al- of the boat. some day when he wants though the skiff does not dash at the pier to haul up his anchor out in deep water he she seems loath to turn. he remembers will not try to step up in the eyes by grasp that she had no such scruples when he ing the mast above his head. hoisted the jib, so he hoists it again. the he casts off the stops securing his sail effect is magical. (lesson .) to swing and hoists the jib. the sail fills and the the bow of a boat a jib is useful. boat, still held by her painter, seems sud he is amazed at the speed suddenly denly possessed of a devil. she makes developed. the skiff is flying through the a vicious dive at a boat on one side of her, water. he decides that it is just as well and her master has no sooner tried to fend not to let her run away with him, and her off with his hands and got his fingers accordingly he proceeds to haul the tiller jammed than she turns and rams a neigh toward him; that is, to the side opposite bor lying on her quarter. he sees that the the sail. jib is inciting this fit of bad temper, so he the effect is swift and terrifying; for a drops it. peace again. he tries hoisting moment the sail seems to hang slack, then the mainsail and the boat lies quiet. (les suddenly the wind catches it on the other son .) hoist the mainsail first, and side. the boom is jerked high in air. he (lesson ) fingers are poor fenders. sees it aiming a vicious blow at his head he decides to sail off before the wind as and drops in time to save his skull, but the interest of the "rocking-chair fleet" not his cap. instinctively he seeks to annoys him and this method promises the remedy the trouble by shoving, the tiller swiftest escape. he is sure of being able back the other way, but the sail is on the to sail that way and he is willing to take other side now which makes relative con- his chances on getting back again. the ditions between sail and tiller the same as function of the center-board is not quite before. back comes the sail with another clear to him, but deciding that it would not wicked jibe and this time the main-sheet be there unless useful, he lowers it. as fouls his feet and spills him in the bottom the jib has proved itself to be an unman of the boat. faint cries reach him from nerly sail he decides not to use it until the “rocking-chair fleet." better acquainted. the beginner is no fool and he sees that he hauis in his sheet and makes it fast both times he has shoved his tiller to the as it looks more ship-shape so, casts off his up, or weather side of his boat. he has painter and scrambling aft takes the tiller, two guesses and this time he shoves it to which he shoves hard-up. the wind has the down, or lee side. the effect is grati- drifted the skiff a little below the float, but fying; the sail flaps but makes no hostile as the close-hauled mainsail fills, the skiff he hauls ít in, keeping a pressure leaps ahead and charges the pier leading on the tiller until he is heading well into to the float. the helmsman is bewildered the wind. the sail flaps again and he for here is a double-barreled paradox! a hauls it flatter, continuing this until he boat defying all the laws of physics, for gets an approximate proper relation be- in the first place she is rushing dead into the tween sail and wind and course, as he can wind's eye; in the second, she utterly ig tell from where he is heading... (lesson nores the force exerted by her rudder and .) to turn a sail-boat gracefully, shove selects the direction least indicated in the the tiller to the down, or lee side. natural order of things. crash! she tries but suddenly he observes to his con- to crawl under the gangway but is stopped sternation that although his skiff is head- by her jib-stay. fortunately this holds. ing up-stream she is traveling sideways! move. the outing magazine rows ah, bitter experience has already taught him how to make her rush at the wind. the center-board! he drops it and ob- serves the result with a thrill of pride. he has simply applied lesson . and so one may follow him through the whole course of his joys and sorrows and derive much amusement therefrom, but this man will learn to handle a boat! he has already learned more in this first at- tempt than the man in the knockabout will learn from his instructor in a week, or to be more accurate, he has gained more. what he has learned will stay by him, and some day when he gets caught in a nasty place he will act quickly and instinctively without hopping up and down and trying to remember what some one has told him, until there comes a crash and he finds himself in the water under his sail and goes out the next day in a launch to help drag for his guests. the man in the skiff has learned as the result of his own personal experience; falling, overboard, ramming the row-boats, fouling the pier, losing his cap, getting foul of the main-sheet, etc. perhaps his bitterest experience is when he tries to come up to the float. three times he charges past, traveling at such a speed that reason tells him that if he tried to stop he would land up amongst the “rocking-chair fleet,” who cheer him as he goes past and admire his parade. eventually he lowers his sail and in, but the next day he goes out and practices rounding up to an oyster-stake until he finds out how to do it. when finally he comes to take the tiller of some big, steady boat he will be surprised to discover how much easier she is to handle than his erratic little dragon-fly. the se- lection of a boat is of course a matter of individual taste. one may buy a $ boat, in which case one will not get much, one may buy $ worth of boat, in which case one will get a great deal. it is amazing how cheaply a good, sound boat, say to feet water-line, can be bought by a person who knows how to go about it, and it is even more surprising to learn how cheaply such a boat may be maintained. almost any oysterman or clammer or fisherman can pick up a reason- ably fast, sound and able boat for that sum, and there are plenty of much larger boats which have been bought for less. am referring, of course, to sound boats; one can pay anything from $ to $ , for a rotten, wormy or nail-sick boat, ac- cording to the personal equation of buyer and seller. an unsound boat like an unsound horse will usually be offered either at a very high or a very low price. a fair price will not attract interest. the ‘modern craze for racing machines and swift, stylish cruisers has put the old- fashioned type of boat at a very low price. i do not mean to detract from the merits of the modern small cruising-yachts, say of the knockabout or sea-going yawl- rigged type; they are excellent boats, fast, able, comfortable, and in every way superior to the old emma jane or four winds, but to my mind they are not half as good boats for the money they cost. one can hardly compare a $ with a $ , boat just because they happen to be of about the same length of water-line. but think of it; by looking around a little one can buy a sound, able boat of say feet over all with a cabin in which three people could cruise comfortably; a little vessel in which a man could sail around cape cod or go down “outside" to the delaware capes in comfort and safety, for the same price as a little -foot, open race-about or knockabout or flop-about. yet nine men out of ten will choose the flop-about because she has a hard-wood finish, creamy sails and bright-work, and then they will hire swedes to dry out the sails after a shower, hog the mahogany run until it glistens and wipe the verdigris off the bright-work. it is here that the yacht- ing spirit corrodes the non-professional sailor-man. the man who owns the race-about learns to sail, possibly to figure time allowances from measurements and sail-area, and to manoeuvre in a race; the man on the emma jane or four winds learns to sail, to navigate by dead-reckoning, to rig, and incidentally to cook. also he learns ge- ography. by the_time he has been ship- mates with the four winds for several seasons he is a pretty good sailor-man. as far as the cost of keeping a boat is concerned, the four winds will be less expensive than the race-about, because a boat of the former type does not need to be spick-and-span to command respect. her "shippyness" will do that, whereas there is no more forlorn, dejected-looking object afloat than a slatternly yacht. on the four winds paint takes the place of shellac, galvanized iron is used instead of brass, and the discarded sails of some yacht can be picked up at a low figure and cut down to fit. she will not require half the care and her gear need not be absolutely new. it can be purchased in any yacht- yard for a surprisingly low figure, and as far as anchors and blocks and lights and nautical instruments, etc., are concerned, one has no idea of the resources of a south street junk-shop until one has tried. an- other thing to consider in buying is that an out-of-date yacht is a very difficult thing to sell; as difficult, in fact, as an out-of-date automobile, whereas there is always an open market for a boat which can work for her living. by the foregoing i do not wish to have it understood that i should advise a man who wants to own and sail his boat to go out and buy some obsolete junk with a stern like a water-melon and a bow which can only be told from the stern by the presence of a bow-sprit. neither do i a heavy, clumsy oyster-sloop. or or i mean boats and boat-handlers sense. some big, floating freight-car of a sharpie. to look shabby in the midst of the sparkling personally, i loathe sharpies, except as pleasure-fleet about a fashionable resort. house-boats. the type of boat which i they feel a certain humiliation in handling have in mind is such as one sees down at a smart, though roughly finished fishing- the eastern end of long island sound, sloop, and rather than sail a vessel lacking either blue-fishing for the market or taking in style and elegance they will give up the out fishing-parties; also the boats used by sport entirely. the fishermen about cape cod and narra this is sad, but true; also it is absurd gansett bay. if one expects to do much and inconsistent. since the whole game sailing in very shoal water an excellent is purely for fun, what difference does boat is that of the type used by the fisher it make whether a man prefers a -foot men in the great south bay. these are maine fishing-boat or a -foot fin-keel carvel-built, but with such a broad beam flyer? the cost will be about the same that a -foot boat will not draw more and there are a good many people who than two feet with her board up. they will look with more pleasure and admi- are stiff, stanch and able sea-boats and ration at the stanch, shippy little schoon- not bad-looking. a keel-boat is always er, with her tarred rigging and brown preferable where the local depths of water sails boiling in with everything drawing permit, not only for stability and sea and a bone in her teeth, than at the slight, going qualities, but for cabin comfort. graceful little yacht, even though the latter probably the most all-round, convenient may be flying the season's championship and practical boat is one which combines regatta pennant. both keel and center-board, and while able within the last few years another factor to work to windward without her board, has entered into boat-handling, and this requires it for pointing up and holding her is the gas-engine. this form of auxiliary ground when on the wind. she will draw has come to stay, and while at first sight three and one-half to four feet of water, it appears to rob the sport of much of its and will have a comfortable cabin with glamour and romance, there is a great perhaps six feet of head-room, a self deal to be said in its favor. bailing cock-pit, and will be altogether a to-day, the outings of most people are stanch little sea-going craft. subject to a definite time limit, whether it seems to me that the english people the holiday be a matter of days or hours, have the right idea of yachting in its true and between the two factors of sail and to them a yacht is any kind of a power many a man is enabled to enjoy private pleasure craft from a _thames pleasures previously denied him. the high wherry to a full-rigged ship: a deal lug- power for the slight sacrifice of space and ger, bought and equipped for a cruise small expense of running are irrefutable around the british isles, rates with an arguments for the gas-engine; others are ocean-going steam-yacht, if the people the advantages in working through shoal, aboard her are the right sort, and a schoon narrow and crowded water-ways under in- er-yacht of the type of one of our glouces dependent power and without being com- ter fishermen would be a great swell. pelled to tie on behind a lumbering barge was once looking over some small aux or being almost jerked out of the water by iliary bark-rigged steam whalers in dun a snorting tug. dee, when i noticed that one of them was whether she be sail or auxiliary, of of rather better model and smarter in gentle or humble birth, the man who gets appearance than the others. commenting the most of health and pleasure from his on this to a man with whom i had entered boat will be the man whose boat is less into casual conversation, he informed me his plaything than his close and intimate that this particular vessel was a yacht. i friend. he must know her every mood afterward® met the leaser in edinburgh; and whim; understand each fault and vir- he told me that he had chartered this little tue; be able to repair with his own hands whaler and had been on a twelve-months' any damage to hull or rigging. he should trip to the arctic, hunting musk-ox, polar understand the use of tools as much as bears and walrus. this is the true yacht that of his compass and parallel rules; he ing spirit; this yachting “with the bark should know the art of rope-lore; how to make splices and sennets and knots. during the last few seasons there seems sea-going course should include a knowl- to have arisen among those who sail for edge of how to put a neat patch in his pleasure a spirit of yachting snobbery; that sail, and he should know how to brew a is to say, a tendency to regard with con strong pot of coffee and throw a clam- tempt any pleasure craft which is not fritter at four in the morning just before modern and spruce and highly-finished, he gets into his dinghy and goes out after without reference to her qualities or the snipe. if his gas-engine gets sulky he manner in which she is handled. there should be able to coax it into good humor are to-day a good many able, non-pro or beat some sense into it with a hammer. fessional boat-handlers who have given up and when he can do all of these things sailing because they are unable to afford he is a graduate boat-handler and has yacht-club membership and are ashamed earned the right to sail the boat of his of their rough old boats which they feel choice wherever it seems good to him. i on!” women and the automobile by mary mullett ev femynine. y blas heard of the internas she was too weak for walking or for horseback riding. they had been her de- grip on the steering wheel of an automo light as a girl in the south and they made bile there is just one “eternal” trait in a it seem, as she says, “positively too inane woman, and that is her propensity for to sit in a carriage and be hauled about" getting in front of his machine at the most as if she were helpless. critical and inconvenient moments. there remained the one resource of the way a certain type of woman automobiling, and she promptly took it crosses a street would convert anybody to up. she knew much about the mechan- the theory of reincarnation. she does it ism of a machine, for her husband was an exactly as she did when, in some previous enthusiast. but she had never run one. earthly career, she was a nice, fat, speckled the first thing she did was to get a good hen. madly this way and that she scuttles, instructor—not her husband. several wom- and it is only at her last gasp—and yours, en offer advice on this point. too!—that she miraculously escapes, by “don't let the members of your own a mere feather's breadth, from the rush family teach you!” say these wise ones. of your swerving wheels. “they patronize you in one breath, as if to the honor and the glory of the sex be it you were a feeble-minded infant, and the recorded, however, that the woman in front next minute they expect you to compre- of the machine isn't the whole story. hend, in one brilliant, intuitive flash, the there is also the woman behind the ma entire science of automobiling. get some- chine. the woman whose slender hands body who knows his business—and who are as steady on the wheel as is the iron doesn't know you.” grip of the trained chauffeur; whose eyes her first lesson was half an hour in are as sharp to see; whose wits as swift to length; and before it was ended, an in- respond; whose traditional nerves have cident had occurred which tested her given place to a degree of cool nerve which nerve to the complete satisfaction of her commands even a man's admiration. teacher. hundreds of women are driving their she had been running the machine easily own machines. in this country actually enough under his direction, but he kept more automobiles are run by women now dinning it into her ears that the most im- than were run by men a few years ago. portant part of running an auto was not in newport last summer, fifteen running it, but stopping it. twenty women might have been seen any “you may be able to start it and to pleasant day, driving their own cars. in steer it and to run it fast or slow," said he; washington-well, my private opinion is "but if you haven't learned to stop it in that in washington half those women who its tracks, you're not fit to sit in that seat." are forever skimming around in little elec before they had gone much farther, a trics, could run them in their sleep-and little child suddenly ran from behind a with one finger at that. wagon and appeared straight in the even in new york there are women path of the woman-driven car. well—she sufficiently plucky and expert to take a stopped it! and she did it with such machine into and through that wonderful startling dispatch that her agitated teacher tangle of traffic which makes fifth avenue very nearly went out in a flying shoot over one of the show thoroughfares of the world. the front. to drive an auto on fifth avenue at when he had recovered enough breath five o'clock in the afternoon is a trick which to speak, he drily remarked that her is calculated to make even the coolest man talent for stopping amounted to positive suspect that he has a few nerves concealed genius. he added that he had taught about him. yet i know of a woman who scores of men to run automobiles, but does that trick whenever she feels like it. that he had yet to see the mere man who, she is a slender, delicate southern girl before the end of the first lesson, could who, a few years ago, undertook to com have equaled that stop. bine the joys of nervous prostration with i consulted the representatives of at those of a severe illness. her wise phy least twenty different machines in regard sicians viewed her with something like to the woman question, and i found only despair, but nevertheless gave her that one who did not know personally of women great prescription which is the one and who were running their cars. most of them only sovereign remedy: had flattering tales of feminine triumph get out-of-doors!" to relate. or women and the automobile “women often show a lot more sense then they bore off to the garage. by the about it than the men do," said one ex time they had swooped around that block pert. "did you ever hear of a woman a few times they had got a man to come running over anybody? i never did. outside and had shouted, in telegraphic and she's easier on the machine, too. you terms, the information: know how women's nerves go up in the air “can't stop! what's matter?” over any miserable little squeak that on the next round, the garage man was wouldn't disturb an excitable ay? why, waiting for them. i'll bet some women will make a fuss in "pull out plug under seat!” he yelled. heaven-provided they ever get there now, any beginner is liable to these if the pearly gates aren't lubricated early mental aberrations, when one temporarily and often. it's all right though, for them forgets plugs under the seat and similar to be fussy in an auto. if they hear a small but essential details. yet if it's a squeak, it's stop then and there and oil up! woman who does anything of the sort she while if a man does hear the squeak, he must expect to be treated as if only a says: woman could have been guilty of such a "oh, that'll quit of itself after a lapse. if an accident happens to her while.' machine, she must be prepared to have the “perhaps it does, after a drop of oil men of her household exchange patronizing has managed to leak through. but all winks and say: that time there's been a lot of wear on the “oh, of course she thinks she didn't do bearings, and it's going to give him anything; but—well, you know, the car trouble, sooner or later. why, i know a wouldn't do that of itself!" woman who has been running one of our and if-as in one instance i know of- cars for about a year and whose whole bill she runs her machine constantly for over of expense for that time is less than $ ." two years, even taking the entire care of it occasionally a husband and wife have herself, without a single item for repairs been taught by the same instructor and except for one new tire, she must expect the woman has proved to be by far the to be told that it was merely good luck. better pupil. the man who is generous on the other hand, the woman auto- enough, however, to revel in his wife's mobilist often gets really more than her superior skill with an auto is as rare as the fair share of praise. you will hear a man one who thinks a woman knows how to rave over a woman making the prettiest poke the fire with anything like his own stop inside of two car-lengths," when he masterly discretion. wouldn't look twice at a regular chauffeur in one instance of this sort, the husband performing that feat. had impulsively acquired an electric run as for the courtesy accorded the god- about, which was said to be so simple that dess-in-the-machine, that alone ought to a babe in arms could manage it. maybe tempt the modern woman to learn to run a babe in arms could; but at least one rail- old-fashioned gallantry seems to way president couldn't—as the man very be in a good deal of a trance nowadays, quickly found out. but it does sit up and take the most grati- his wife, on the contrary, seemed to fying notice of the woman at the wheel. discover some secret affinity between her “one is always hearing stories of mean- self and that runabout. it was her slave. toward automobilists, said the she ran it so deftly and gracefully, that southern girl who is taking the automo- when she was on the seat, steering-rod in bile cure for her nervous prostration, “but hand, she basked in the wondering ad i've never received anything but the most miration of the populace. everybody considerate treatment. perhaps it's part- knows the second chapter to a haughty ly due to the fact that i don't behave as if spirit. this woman encountered hers one the streets ‘and all that in them is' were evening, a week after she had decided that created for my exclusive benefit. she was the "smoothest" motorist in that truck driver pulls up his team to let me go town. by, i don't act as if the right-of-way were she had skimmed off on some preliminary my particular divine right. i look up at errand, leaving mr. blank on the front him and bow my thanks. steps, waiting for her to come back and “in the country, too, if a horse is the pick him up. sure enough, along she least bit restive, i stop my machine and came at dusk. but instead of slipping even shut off the power, so that i have to skilfully up to the curb, she sailed by. get out to start it again. i am always twice she circumnavigated the block more than repaid by the appreciation peo- before mr. blank, becoming convinced that ple show." she couldn't stop, boarded the vehicle with people who don't know the facts, have a flying leap in the course of its third round a fixed idea that, in a tight place, the wom- trip. once on board, mr. blank found his an automobilist is going to look out for surmise correct. the thing wouldn't stop. her own safety and let "all the world gang mrs. blank said they must try to make by,” or over, or under, or wherever their port at the garage. it took three round mangled remains happen to light. as one trips of the block to convey this to their cynical male remarked: daughter, now on the steps of the house. "if women are going to run autos, i'll a car. ness if a the outing magazine or car. tie up my children in the back yard. i'd that emergency, by taking out your clutch sooner risk their young lives within range and getting ready to make a short stop, of a woman who was trying to throw!" you will find yourself doing something to the expert woman automobilist is not the death rate which won't be pleasant to a freak of nature. the truth is that if think of." you really are pining to risk your life in "oh yes, i daresay a woman could the path of an automobile, you ought to really get along quite well with a simple receive a discount on the price of your ac little runabout, one man admitted pat- cident policy if you pick out a machine ronizingly; "but of course she would be with a woman at the wheel. quite incapable of running a big, -cylinder, “were you ever face to face with danger horse-power machine. of a serious accident?" i asked a woman unfortunately, when his high-mighti- who drives her own car. ness delivered this lofty, ultimatum, i “one of the closest shaves i remember," hadn't the remotest idea whether a woman she said, "was on jerome avenue, in the could run a horse-power car not. bronx, at a point where a steep hill-road when he went on to talk learnedly about the came into it at an abrupt angle. because terrors of its sliding gear, which, according of houses and fences, one couldn't see this to his story, demanded the simultaneous road until directly abreast of it. i was use of all the members of one's body, all going along the avenue at a pretty good the faculties of one's mind and all the at- speed, when a boy who was coasting down tributes of one's soul, i felt as if the hand the hill on his bicycle shot out directly in that rocked the cradle really couldn't ex- front of me. there wasn't time for him pect to rule a horse-power, -cylinder to clear my machine and there wasn't time i felt that, after all , woman's sphere for me to stop. there were just two things must remain a sort of horse-power i could do. i could put on my brakes and arrangement. hope that at least i wouldn't kill the child, it would not be strictly truthful to claim or i could wheel sharply into the same that any large proportion of the feminine direction that he was going and hope that population is engaged in running big cars. i wouldn't kill myself. but if some women can do it, plenty of “of course it was a desperate chance. others can and there's no question that i might upset, or i might come up against some women are doing it. one of those iron posts which seem to sprout a dozen well-known new york society out of the ground at every turn, or i might women run cars of that description and crash into a trolley car. my machine was take a keen delight in it. some of them a light one and wouldn't hurt the car even drive their own cars in the races. much, but some one would have to write as for sheer nerve, it would be hard to find an epitaph for me." a better exhibition of it than one of them “what did you do?” gave recently. she and her car were “do?" in surprise. "why, i wheeled forced off a bridge and overturned; though my car, of course. luck was with me. by some miracle of good luck, both escaped i got nothing more than a shaking up and serious injury. after a dozen men had the boy flew by safely, at a rate which in succeeded in hoisting the car out of the clines me to think he is going yet. you've depths, the woman-whose nerve might no idea what imps the children are. they have been supposed to share in the general stand in the road and dare you, trying to shake-up-resumed her place at the wheel see who can be the last to dodge out and drove on as if nothing had happened. of your way. it's perfectly maddening. one of the most startlingly incongruous when they are especially bad, i simply cases is that of a girl in maine, a ninety- stop the machine. and when they find pound creature who runs a car weighing that i propose to sit there till they get just fifty times as much as she does. out of the way, they take themselves off, most confine their personal with much hooting and howling. dealings with an automobile to operating “then there are the people who walk it. they do not clean, or oil it, or tinker blandly in front of your car, without so with its vital organs. but there are a few much as turning the tail of their eye to who take a noble pride in the care of their see if anything is coming. when they machines. they have leather aprons and hear your horn, they jump ten feet. gen gloves, and somehow, when the car issues erally that takes them out of the danger resplendent from their ministrations, they zone, and everything would be all right if manage to shed every sign of dirt along only they wouldn't jump back again. if with the gloves and apron, and to emerge you haven't prepared, however, for just as spick and span as the auto itself. women making the country home by eben e. rexford work in the garden use. season. they find wood-ashes of great benefit in weeds, from this time on, will prove the treatment of club-foot and maggot tractable, if, during the early part among cabbage. a pail is filled with water of the season, hoe and cultivator have been and ashes-about one-quarter of the latter used thoroughly; but remember that a —and the mixture stirred until a thorough few weeds are capable of stocking a whole union takes place. the roots of the young garden if they are allowed to go to seed. plants are puddled in the infusion, at raspberry and blackberry bushes should planting-time. this remedy is particularly be given attention now. allow only as useful for cabbage set out as a late crop. many canes to grow to each plant as will tomatoes are generally left to train be needed for fruiting purposes. as soon themselves. this is wrong, as you get as the old canes have perfected fruit, cut a rank growth of branches and not much them out. when the new canes reach a fruit. thin out the branches from time height of two feet nip their tops off to in to time during the growing period, leaving duce the formation of side-branches. the not more than four or five to a plant. by soil about these plants ought to be made all means train them to a trellis, tying rich, and kept well hoed. them up well. after a quantity of fruit if you intend to use the old strawberry has “set,” cut off the ends of the branches, bed another season, go through it with a thus forcing the strength of the plants spade and turn over the soil in rows a foot into the development of the fruit for early or more wide. this will bury half the old one reason why we have so few plants and give those that are left a chance tomatoes in the north, and why they come to spread satisfactorily. it will make a so late in the season that few of them ripen ragged-looking bed of it, but in a short thoroughly, is because we let our plants time the runners sent out from the old grow and grow, and expend most of their plants will cover the spaded-up soil with energy in that direction, rather than in a thrifty stock of new ones, from which the production of fruit. plants trained you can expect a good crop of fruit next on trellises, where the sun and air can i have known beds of this plant circulate freely among them, are almost to be kept in very satisfactory condition always free from rot. for a long term of years by following this another sowing should be made of method. the strip left unspaded this vegetables which mature early in the year should be turned over next year. season, like spinach, beets, and radishes. half the bed is made to renew the soil in which they are planted should itself yearly. it is not pretended, how be rich, mellow and fully exposed to the ever, that it is the best method of obtaining sun, in order to hasten their development. record-breaking crops of fruit, but it will the quicker their growth, the tenderer recommend itself to the man who has not they will be, and their flavor will be far much time to devote to gardening. superior to that of plants grown in a soil one must be constantly on the lookout that does not encourage rapid develop- for bugs among the cucumbers and squash ment. by planting nearly all vegetables es. i have found that dusting the plants in succession, up to the middle of summer, with dry earth, while they are damp, is they can be enjoyed throughout the about as effective as anything. if these greater part of the season. enemies can be kept in check until the plants get a good start they will do but little harm. it is during the early stages the ideal site for a poultry-yard is a of the plants' growth that greatest care dry, rather high piece of ground, having must be given. a little neglect then may a slope to the south or east. natural ruin everything, as the bugs and beetles drainage should be good. a yard located come suddenly, do their deadly work on a flat, undrained surface will never give rapidly, and are often gone before you satisfaction. a light soil is vastly superior aware of their being anywhere in to a heavy one—if sandy, so much the the vicinity. wood-ashes sifted over the better. clay land is objectionable be- young plants will often prove beneficial. cause hens cannot scratch to advantage in some persons recommend a mixture of it, and unless hens can scratch and pulverize paris green and slaked lime, but i have the soil into dust they will not do well. always found that paris green was too poultry-grounds should be protected on strong for the tender young plants. the north and west by buildings, a high, many professional gardeners tell me that tight board fence, or a thick hedge of in this wa in the poultry yard are the outing magazine evergreens—something that will break the force of the prevailing winds. the size of the enclosure should be deter- mined by the number of hens you propose to keep: at one of our recent poultry conventions the assertion was made by a most successful poultry grower that a space ten feet square should be allowed for each fowl. from this you can readily calculate the size of your yard. the state- ment was also made at this convention that few persons who start in without pre- vious experience are likely to be successful if they begin with a large number of fowls. disease is more likely to attack them, and is more difficult to control where there are many to treat. the amateur finds he has more on his hands than he had reckoned on, failure results, he becomes discouraged, and finally he comes to the conclusion that “there isn't any money in poultry.” it was said, also, that the man who begins with fifteen or twenty hens can care for them properly, and find time to learn the ins and outs of the business—the little things upon which success so largely de- pends-as he goes along. when these are learned, he can safely afford to increase the size of his flock, and not till then. the common mistake of the beginner in the poultry business is that he thinks he has mastered it because he has read some books on poultry-growing, success must be attained by the practical knowledge which comes of working among fowl, and not of reading about them. it was also agreed that only one male was needed for twenty hens. the male is necessary for breeding purposes only, as he has no in- fluence on egg-production. in building houses for winter shelter, plan them after some of the designs given in standard books on poultry manage- ment. build substantially, and rith a view to warmth in winter. hens will not lay well in cold and draughty houses, nor will they be healthy in damp ones. one experienced grower deplored the fact that the poultry-business has been made to seem a difficult and complicated one because of the elaborate care advised by many persons who write on the subject. he held that what he called a “common- sense ration” throughout the summer and fall was superior, in every way, to a "fancy” one, both for the health of the fowl and the production of eggs. he gave this as his rule for feeding: one-third each of oats, wheat bran, and crushed corn, dampened to mealiness and thoroughly mixed. after moulting begins a small quantity of linseed meal--perhaps two tablespoonfuls to twenty hens—is added. some old nails are kept in the vessels of drinking water. table scraps are given at noon, and during the rest of the day in summer the hens are allowed to forage in a grassy, yard to suit themselves. on the approach' of cold weather another feed of whole corn is given before the flock goes to roost. not a case of chicken-cholera has appeared in his flock, and egg-pro- duction has been large and regular. among the flowers if the season happens to be a dry one do not begin to water the flower-garden unless you have ample facilities at hand for keeping up the artificial supply of moisture. better let the plants take their chances of surviving the drouth than to meet their demands for water for a little time and then neglect them. in applying water with the ordinary watering-pot remove the spray-nozzle. this will scatter water over the surface of the ground, and do but little good because not enough gets to the roots of the plants. apply the water through the spout, con- centrating it at the base of each plant, and be sure that enough is used to pene- trate the soil to the depth of four or five inches. a smaller amount will be of very little benefit. see that the dahlias and gladioli are well staked and neatly tied. use strips of cloth rather than string, as the latter often cuts into the soft wood. keep the hoe going, in dry weather. an open soil has something of the porosity of a sponge and absorbs whatever moisture there happens to be in the atmosphere, but a soil that is allowed to become hard and crusted over repels moisture. in training vines about the house, be careful to give good support as they de- velop. unless this is done they may be torn down by a sudden storm of wind or rain, and then it is impossible to put them back without injuring them. prevent the possibility of harm of this kind by tacking them to the walls with strips of stout leather. cloth rots in a season, and string is no better. seedlings of perennials can be trans- planted to the beds and borders where they are to remain. do this on a showery day, if possible, disturbing their roots but little. if they are watered well before lifting, the soil will cling about them and prevent root-exposure. cut back tea roses sharply after each period of bloom. this will induce the development of new branches on which blossoms are borne. make the soil very rich about these plants, using old cow- manure, if obtainable, in preference to any other fertilizer. after hybrid perpetual roses have per- fected their first crop of flowers, cut them back well and manure heavily. being sim- ilar in habit to the tea class, they should have about the same treatment. they cannot be expected, however, to bloom as freely as the teas, after june. now is the time to get ready for next winter. cut your old boston and pierson ferns apart, and make half a dozen new plants from each one of them. pot them in à soil of leafmold and sand, put them in a the reasoning power of the dog shady place, water well and shower daily: young plants secured in this manner will be worth a dozen old ones for winter use. if you have geraniums or any other plant, for that matter-that you intend to make use of in the window-garden next winter, do not allow them to bloom during nip off every bud as soon as throw the strength of the plant into the development of branches. these should be shortened from time to time and made to produce side-branches. in this way you get a bushy, compact plant with a score of blossoming-points where there would be but few if you allowed the plant to train itself. summer. seen. keep your chrysanthemums going stead- ily ahead. this is done by repotting to larger pots if their roots have filled the old ones, by the liberal use of some good fertilizer, and thorough watering. in hot weather it may be necessary to apply water to the roots twice a day. always keep the soil quite moist. be on the lookout for the black beetle. this is the most dangerous enemy of the chrysanthemum. my remedy is ivory soap, melted, and mixed with water, in the proportion of a small-sized cake to fifteen gallons of the latter. apply with a sprayer, all over the plant. do this repeatedly once or twice a day until not a beetle is to be seen. the reasoning power of the dog by s. l. e fabry wh hether a dog's action, combining capacity, and an affection and loyalty for intelligence in execution with a me which i have never seen duplicated definite purpose, is prompted by instinct since. whenever he was let out of his or by reason is still an unsolved problem. kennel his first thought would be to locate to teach a dog tricks or to train the the writer, hunting all familiar places until sporting dog for field work is a purely successful. if i happened to be in the mechanical lesson, impressed on his mind house he would scratch at the door or by memory in the first case, and by leading moan pitifully at the ground floor win- his inherited instinct into ways to serve dows to attract my attention; he was un- us, in the second-neither has any relation tiring in his efforts, never relaxing in his to reasoning. the reasoning power in the watching, even if tempted with food by animal shows itself if acts are accomplished others. i mention this as it indicates will which are the result of well-laid plans, power. i never let an opportunity pass executed after correct observation and without putting this dog's adaptiveness carried out for a purpose, and not resem to circumstances to a test. one day i bling the rudimental forms of instinct. happened to notice that a large oak tree reasoning cannot be taught a dog as a overshadowed one of my outhouses. one trick can; it is the logical consequence of branch nearly covered the roof of the shed, higher intelligence and of a well-developed forming a bridge to the tree. here was a mind. the dog which barks furiously at chance which i decided to utilize. by the cat on the tree, and attempts to crawl placing a large wooden box against the after her, is the simple dog; the intelligent wall of the shed and a smaller one on top animal would see at a glance the impossi of the first one, it was made possible for bility of the feat and not even try it. the dog to reach the nearly flat roof. dogs are noted for their wonderful the tree was successfully climbed with the memory for places and objects, and they aid of a ladder, the latter removed and often return unaided from great distances the dog ordered to be let out of his kennel, through this gift. some distance away. some interesting incidents showing rea he, as usual, came on a run, scenting soning power came under the writer's ob at all the places he was wont to find me. servation in his long experience with dogs. he soon detected me in my lofty position. to the large breeds preference was given, i shall never forget the dog's facial ex- especially Št. bernards and great danes, pression as he spied me, it was as near to as capable of astonishing mental develop â human smile as i ever saw. he circled ment if reared properly and brought up the tree, then stood up against the trunk under the right conditions. as if mentally measuring the height of amongst the many, i remember one the lowest branches. then his correct whose doings were so rational that they conception of distances and power of ob- are worth recording. this dog showed servation showed itself; instead of wasting from his tenderest age remarkable intelli time in futile efforts, he gave his attention gence, excellent memory and observing to every object near the tree, and it is the outing magazine plausible to presume that his mind at that fence. i soon found the real cause of his moment was reasoning to find a way to wounds. he had succeeded in biting get up the tree. the moment he saw his through the wire at several places and had way clear to get up on the roof, he instant cut himself by trying to squeeze through ly grasped the feasibility of getting near a too small opening. the dog seemed to me in that way. with one bound he cleared understand that i was making a mistake, the boxes was on the roof in the next, and wanted to forestall unjust punishment. then made his way carefully over the heavy another dog i owned suffered a great foliage of the overlying tree to reach me. deal with indigestion. the least indiscreet the dog reasoned correctly and judged at diet would bring on these attacks, and as a glance the only way open to serve his they occurred very frequently i had a purpose. large bottle of medicine always on hand this same dog hated the confinement of and kept it on a shelf in his kennel. the his kennel and used the most remarkable dog seemed to have acquired a thorough tactics to break out. i used a six-foot comprehension as to the relief-bringing wire fence. his adaptiveness to dig under quality of that bottle. whenever he was the fence was amazing. stones, logs, or ill and food was placed before him, he boards were of no avail. he always found would scent it, walk away without touching a place never thought of. if he found the it, then turn to the shelf and gazing stead- ground too hard he would stand up against ily at the bottle, indicate plainly his wants. the wire fence, pushing his big paws he took the medicine without the slightest through the mesh, then taking hold of the balking, which is rather exceptional, as wire with his teeth he would throw his any one who ever tried to dose a dog will entire weight against it, pulling at it little agree. by little until the posts gave somewhat. this dog when let out, would never dis- then by doubling his efforts the top of turb anything in the poultry yard, but the the fence was pulled down low enough so moment a stray chick lost her way into he could clear it. this was not accom his yard, the savage got the better of him; plished in a day or even a week; the dog he would catch the unfortunate straggler, had a definite purpose in view and worked kill and devour it, leaving only a few feath- until he accomplished his purpose. ers as evidence of the murder." pun- to overcome this i had ten-inch boards ishment always followed. the remnants nailed between the posts, on top of the of feathers were shown to the dog so as to fence, and the latter fastened on these impress on him his wrong-doings and make boards. things were satisfactory for a the cause of the punishment clear to him. short time. Öne nice morning i found from time to time young chickens would him at the house door bright and early be missing, and all efforts to locate the wagging joyfully at me. i was really guilty one were vain. the dog's yard was puzzled; and anxious to learn how he always scrutinized but nothing found. broke out this time. my best broilers were disappearing at a a visiting dog had been shipped to the rapid rate and i decided to have the dog kennels the previous day. the newcomer watched. soon he was caught in the act was liberated in this dog's run and the and the mystery solved. the moment the crate left standing in the middle of his dog had finished his meal, he scratched yard. the dog, as usual, made good his the feathers in a heap and carried them opportunity by taking hold of the laths with his teeth to a corner of his yard, with his powerful jaws and succeeded in where he buried them. the dog had the moving the crate close enough to the fence most embarrassed and helpless expression so he could jump it. of interest here is at the time he was caught that i ever no- the memory of the dog, who evidently re ticed on a dog. an extra severe punish- membered by what means he got up on the ment was dealt out, and i do not know if roof previously, and reasoned that the the mortification of being trapped or the crate would serve as the wooden boxes punishment did the work, but the dog was served before. cured from that moment on. being of an affectionate, kind disposi the related observations show reasoning tion, he insisted on being treated in the in order to accomplish something for a set same way. if ordered to return to his purpose. i believe most animals possess kennel he would obey at once by heading for the quality in some degree, more or less, it, but near the door he would stop, stand according to their mental development. immovable, and no amount of coaxing or in the last case described the dog's in- punishment would induce him to stir; hut stinct led him to catch and kill the chicken; the moment i petted him, talking kindly, but memory told him that punishment he would turn in seemingly satisfied. would follow if found out. he reasoned one day i came into his kennel and found that by hiding the evidence of his guilt cuts on his muzzle, chest and front legs. he would escape punishment for his actions, being under the impression that he had which he understood to be wrong. the been fighting with his kennel mate, i very fact of being able to discriminate be- started to punish both. the dog at once tween right and wrong and trying to check commenced to act queerly, as if he resented the consequences of the latter, shows the my act. he started forward a few yards necessity of thinking, and therefore of and then pointed with his nose at the reasoning power. how how to bit your horse by f. m. ware the 'he interior of a horse's mouth will well his pupils in heavy harness accept the repay lengthy study. the lower jaw puzzling curb-bit and pulley-bridoon with- is a bundle of most sensitive nerves; of out objection. we are, in heavy-harness bones covered with the most paper-like bits, where we were a hundred years ago. skin, protected from the brutality or care all horses must be reduced to a unit, and lessness of man only by the muscular go acceptably in the curb-bit, which varies cushion of the tongue. we speak of hardly at all so far as the mouth-piece "making a horse's mouth'; it is really goes. his tongue which we educate to obey our no horse can be really "in hand" and directions. cut off the tongue, or let properly facing his bit whose mouth and the animal get it over his bit, and one will bars are dry. the open mouth is always find the creature at once unmanageable, or a dry mouth. if he opens it, it must be nearly so. the lower jaw, or tongue, of shut by tightening the nose-band, or by a seventy per cent. of our horses of six years nose-strap; only, however, when all other old and over betrays evidences of brutal means fail. many animals will close the usage. mouth to a light hand which keeps the you can never give a horse a proper mouth "alive" with its delicate "take mouth unless, first, you prevent his keep and give.” others will succumb to an ing his mouth open; second, you keep his adjustment of the bit, or a style of bit, tongue always under the bit, and not over that just suits them. others need the it or "lolling” out of the mouth; third, tongue fastened down, not only to keep, you train him to go pleasantly up to it, the mouth shut and to prevent “lolling, and to bend himself, and never to be "be but sometimes to stop a curious habit of hind" his bit, or to pull on it, or to drive drawing the tongue up in the mouth to upon either rein; fourth, you keep him such an extent that respiration is interfered always "alive on" and responsive to its with. slightest indications; fifth, you so balance control is impossible unless the tongue him, that he can do all these things without stays under the bit. it may be tied down, suffering personal discomfort; sixth, you or confined by a rubber band (both last thoroughly deceive him as to the qualities resorts), or the bit may be raised high in and quantity of your power to control and the mouth, or a “floating port,” or a stiff- direct. these essentials may all be sim leather port of considerable length-about plified into two divisions: first, make him four inches—will keep the member in place. absolutely comfortable; second, fool him. many will respond to the dropping of the from earliest colthood the horse should bit low in the mouth, so that the tongue be allowed to yield jaw and neck, of may readily be put over or under. the course, but never to open his mouth to reason is plain—the bit is in a new place, the pressure of the bit. an enthusiast and to protect himself from pain, the wrestling with the problem of bitting a la subject keeps his tongue under it. sharp baucher, may train his horse to open his teeth have much to do with this fault. mouth to bít flexion — the most perni- thorough “floating" has cured many a cious habit he could learn. this result is "tongue loller." usual after the application of the "dumb a bit with its mouthpiece curved in the jockey” (now rarely used), with its tight segment of a circle is generally very suc- check, and rubber side lines cruelly short cessful with green" horses, for the rea- ened. when neck and jaw can stand the sons that it affords room for the tongue agony of restraint no longer, the opening of to lie comfortably beneath it, without the mouth gives relief by yielding several taking almost the entire pressure; that inches, and the habit is adopted, in most it rests evenly upon the bars of the mouth; cases to last through life; the tongue that its curved surface produces a regularly often works over the bit to escape pain, graduated sensation throughout the entire and “tongue lolling" becomes a confirmed jaw; that it does not burn the tender habit. membrane if roughly pulled, moving round no horse has so true and sensitive a the jaw rather than through it; that it mouth as the average horse handled by need not fit the mouth (in width) so ex- an american handler of colts. he uses actly; that it comes as near the effects of the simplest and easiest bits; he sees that a jointed-snaffle as any solid bar-bit can. they fit, and that they hang where they the heavy-harness bit may have a belong; he rarely develops a puller (though jointed mouth-piece (like a snaffle) in- he sometimes does develop a sluggard). stead of the usual solid form. we can the outing magazine ures. then only use it in the cheek, and the half- cheek; however, in the middle bar it will have little effect, and it will tend to pinch the jaw. “green” horses always drive well thus bitted, as the effect is what they have experienced in light harness. any horse will go up to his bit if it suits his mouth. we shall have trouble if we attempt to drive in the middle-bar a horse which prefers the cheek, or if we use a tight chain, or a dropped bit when his mouth does not require such harsh meas- horses vary from day to day, and arrangements which are o.k. on mon- day may be quite the reverse on wednes- day. if we try to force a horse up to a bit too harsh for his mouth we provoke trouble of various kinds, and are quite certain to lay the foundation from which pullers are made. no horse was ever born a puller. de- ficiencies in conformation have much to do with the fault. the mere weight of the reins is quite an appreciable number of pounds and exerts a most tiresome effect upon the jaw muscles. if we force a horse to face this punishment we leave him a choice of two evils: either to suffer tor- tures in mouth, jaw and neck, or, by pulling harder, to cause the curb chain to quickly destroy all sensation. thus he escapes pain, and this trick he acquires as the only reprisal possible. we often obtain the same results by regulating his paces and carriage to our own ideas. never court trouble, least of all with an animal, and unless we are sure that we can “win out." we can always beat a horse by artifice and deception—that is the only secret in handling him—but very often brute strength and severity will fail. take, for instance, the horse who, on leay- ing the stable, likes to go away fast for the first few blocks, or the first quarter- mile. we object, and pull at him; he resists; we come again,”, and possibly put in a jerk or two for good measure, and so it goes until it becomes a habit with him always to “take hold” as soon as he starts. other horses will lug desperately in going round a corner; others drive pleasantly until you try to stop them, when they sud- denly throw their whole weight on the bit, and blunder ahead anywhere; others plunge away at starting, and after a few yards are quiet; some pull one way, and some another—but all can be stopped. of course, a low-headed, straight-shoul- dered, thick-necked, narrow-jawed “bull, as the dealers call them, is frequently almost hopeless. one may fall in with a puller at any time which other people have cultivated to an exquisite proficiency, and there are various methods of getting the best of these nuisances without seriously, hurting them. any one who drives much should carry with him in his driving coat pocket two little straps and a piece of stout cord. one strap is about three-quarters of an inch wide, long enough to go through the average mouth, and has sewn on each end the half of a curb chain. if all other resources fail, place this in the mouth under the tongue, and cross the chains under the chin, taking them up snugly on the curb-hooks. the other strap is long enough to go completely around the nose and has a buckle on one side to shorten it, and the curb chain on each end. put this around the nose, above the nostrils, cross under the chin, and hook snugly this keeps the mouth shut, and both these arrangements are very severe. the cord is a last resort, and goes over the upper jaw, but under the upper lip, back through the half cheek, and is tied there, more or less tight. this takes effect upon a surface never before touched, and must be applied with great care as a very high-couraged horse will sometimes fight it desperately. of course all these arrangements are merely temporary makeshifts and lose their effect if frequently employed; nor should they be brought into use until other methods have failed. nose-nets and other contraptions also lose all value if regularly worn. the very best way to cure a puller is to pass him along and let the other fellow tackle the job. horses that drive on one rein need thorough attention to their teeth at once. few horses drive on one rein which are not also “foul gaited" in carrying one hind foot between the front; in sidling, and in other vagaries of locomotion, and such subjects frequently interfere, overreach, or cross-fire—which will stop when the origi- nal fault is corrected. the “bristle-burr' has excited much indignation from humani- tarians who knew nothing of it, or its effects. now the “burr' has upon its surface various bunches of bristles, about half an inch long, and if it inficts pain to press your tooth-brush (even with all your power) against your own mouth angles, then the "bristle-burr" is an article of torture. try it and see whether you suffer. uncomfortable?-yes, if you per- sist in pressing on it-and so the horse finds it, and therefore he doesn't press on it, but carries his head straight and the “burr” away from the mouth-angle-which the width of the bit allows him to do. there are hundreds of horses in use to-day regularly wearing “bristle-burrs," and are comfortable with them and uncontrollable without them. it is of no use to haul and jerk at a "one-reiner” or a puller; little sharp "give-and-take" pulls that never let him get steadily hold of you are the manipulations that succeed. to pull, a horse must brace himself-set himself, and all his muscles. the little, imperceptible touches which become automatic on the part of a good reinsman, continually come at just the moment when the horse thinks, “now, i've got you!” harsh-bitting never answers with a "one-reiner''; drive ing him circles on the side he pulls will how to bit your horse or help; changing the position of his head, the hands must never yield until the and his bits; varying the working-side jaw and neck have first done so; then in pairs; using a stick from the pad-terret instantly. to the bit to keep him straight; "bristle the snaffle is the harmless medium of burrs,” and, finally, plain-leather-cheeks the neophyte, the test of skill in the ex- (as a reminder); rubber, or leather, or pert. hannel-covered bits, etc., all help, but no horse's head can be properly placed, each horse is a study in himself. leaving at the same time a pliant mouth, in bitting the saddle horse a lot of vexa except with the snaffle (or bridoon), in tion has been caused amateurs by the study the full bridle. of the works of baucher, and other ex nature gave us two hands, and both are perts, who so concealed their very simple needed in equestrianism. methods behind a mass of verbiage that as the first step in attaining balance, the the neophyte was completely bewildered. horse must, in aſl his paces, carry his face two obstacles always interfere with success perpendicularly. in these undertakings. first, the student lessons should be short-not over ten is unable to decide when to stop, or how to minutes—frequently repeated, twice begin; nor does he ride well enough to se more daily, if possible; submission be cure the perfect and unconscious balance followed by instant caress to the part and seat without which fine "hands" are addressed. impossible. second, he lacks the patience if a horse turns sulky, revert instantly to persevere, and if he succeeds he finds to first principles; that was the way you that it is bothersome to keep his pupils learned the multiplication table. always at their best, and that they are the smaller the arena, etc., the quicker too finely educated for the average eques will the pupil bend himself, make his trian to ride at all. horses trained to per- mouth, and come into balance. even a fection, are not salable until "spoiled down box-stall will do. to” the capacity of the average twice every horse has two ends, and we must around-the-park-for-my-liver's-sake rider. obtain control of both; the “forehand” buyers don't want horses that may make by our hands, the “backhand by our them appear ridiculous. neither will any legs. one pay for the time and skill required to the moment a horse rests upon the hand, thoroughly educate a saddle horse, and that moment he is out of balance. therefore mouths may be the most imper when the mouth is “making,” and alive fect and still meet all requirements; in to address, it is always moist on bars and fact one that will “take hold” enough to lip angles. allow the rider to haul himself up at each the bridoon "sets" the head, and gives step in the trot, and to hold on by in the the signals for turning, etc.; the curb re- canter, or over a fence, is regarded as a strains, aids the perpendicular carriage of delightful mount by most people. the head, and so places it that the bridoon in so brief an article as this, it is impossi may act properly. ble to go into all the details of bitting, the first impulse of the horse is always and of producing perfect balance in the to yield to the pressure of the hands and horse. to produce, and to retain it, the of the legs, but this yielding is evanescent animal is never allowed to take a step (with the mouth at least), and must be of his own volition, but is "ridden" from instantly rewarded by the yielding hand. the time the equestrian mounts. certain care must be taken that when the jaw supplings and bendings are practiced upon is yielded it simply relaxes, and that 'the the subject's jaw and neck from the ground, mouth does not open, lest this be inter- but this may be carried as far as is worth preted as the object of the tension. while in the average saddle-horse, from in all bending and suppling of the neck, the saddle. this bitting is fully as much the horse's head must be straightened by a matter of the legs and heels as of the the opposite rein, and he must never be hands, and no horse can be made to bend allowed to straighten it of his own volition. and collect himself unless the seat is good nothing makes a horse bend himself, enough to allow of proper leg work and come into balance, and carry himself light the balance true enough to aid and not to in hand better than backing. impede the process. a few important these matters, while the a b c of bit- hints on the subject are: ting for saddle work, include more atten- in every movement asked of the horse, tion than the average horse gets. the from yielding the jaw at a stand, action of same sort of work is of great advantage the legs (or spurs at first) must always for harness horses, and is better for ail of precede that of the hands. this is the them than the cruelly abused bitting- basic rule of all horsemanship. gear. rod and gun him on fly fishing for with him—as well as successfully landing him from the surging waters. ouananiche as to the lines, i know of nothing better than the best braided silk lines. they are by louis rhead strong, round, even and pliable, as well as light, the last being all important in cast- ei 'very angler who has learned to cast ing. the best line is that which tapers a fly tolerably well, so that he can to the size of the gut. land a good-sized trout in a businesslike regarding the reel, it should be of the way, begins to think and wonder what he best, running smooth and easily with a would do with a leaping salmon if he had heavy click, and black in color, for the ouananiche is just as easily scared as a the best place to go for salmon in my trout, and while casting the bright glitter experience is the grande décharge of lake of shining steel scares away more fish than st. john, two hundred and ninety miles the angler supposes. i have never tried above quebec by the lake st. john railway the automatic reel, but if one is used to it to roberval, stay there over night, then and can manage it handily no doubt it early next morning take a small steamer would be of great assistance in the rapid to the island house which is about forty breaks and returns that the ouananiche is miles away and right near the décharge. so justly famous for. the reel should be the best time to go is from june th to used underneath the rod and below the july th. the fish are then hungry, grip, not above and over as in bait casting. plentiful and gamey, and the 'gnats and the only thing remaining is to be pro- mosquitoes are not so bad as they are later vided with a net ample in size and with a on when it gets warmer. handle at least four feet long. although in providing tackle, a well-built trout the guide invariably uses the net, there are rod of six or eight ounces, twelve feet long, times when the angler wishes to do the is to my mind the best, but the all-impor whole thing himself. as regards tackle tant thing in tackle for ouananiche is to this completes the outfit. get the very best gut, line, reel and fly. on arrival at the island house the angler ît is the soundest economy to begrudge no will have an opportunity to look around, expense connected with these four things unpack and make preparations for an early on which the sport for all this outlay de start on the following morning, for the pends. moreover, as regards gut, i believe greater part of the day is spent in crossing that the best, and consequently the most the lake, having lunch and getting ready expensive, is in the long run actually the for the fishing trip, most economical if proper care be taken at the landing the guides are in waiting. of it. a good carefully picked salmon gut two are picked out by the house manager, will outlast four inferior strands. i have and you squat down in the middle of the two salmon leaders, bought nine years ago bark canoe with a guide at each end. it in england, which have been used every will be a convenient thing if you can speak season either for salmon or bass, and they french, for out of the whole lot i found are still strong and sound, with a large only one who could make himself intelli- number of fish to their credit, too. gently understood in english. a salmon gut leader should be six feet a picturesque feature is the genuine long with the upper fly three feet from the birch-bark canoe instead of the common- leader or end fly. only two flies are used. place canvas substitute. those made of in both trips of three weeks' duration the new bark are of a golden-orange color only flies i used were the jock scott and which after long service becomes a silvery silver doctor. this was not because i gray. these canoes are made by the mon- had no other flies, for my salmon book tagnais indians during the summer at their contains nearly four hundred flies of a little reservation near roberval. they cost hundred different kinds. the two flies about twenty-five dollars. the bark is mentioned i found were used by the stripped from the trees on their hunting others. the guides said they were the trips in the winter. best so i began with them and as i kept on because of the rapid water and numerous landing fish i wisely let well enough alone. currents it is necessary to have two guides. let the fly be a reasonably small one; a we soon got to the grand falls where the large-sized trout fly or a small-sized bass best pools are. casting and landing in a fly is right. i was sorry to see many fisher canoe are difficult and disagreeable. for men using flies with a double hook. this that reason very few try it. it is much is stepping down from high sportsmanship. better and easier to fish from the rocks, it looks as if the angler were afraid to lose most of the pools being near shore. a fish, which to me is part of the game crossed the boiling water to one of the adding zest and vim to the work of playing numerous islands, we could see great as we rod and gun masses of floating foam, sometimes from minutes, the line being kept taut all the forty to sixty feet square. in this floating time. suddenly the reel again sings white mass are myriads of flies caught by merrily, for if you have been wise you will the torrent, and underneath the salmon may have held the line between your fingers, be seen on the feed. reeling in the surplus line. he will now now the time had arrived, after travel break water at a reasonable distance and ing so far, our only thoughts were on the you will gradually reel him in nearer and number and size of the quarry, but we nearer. he will hold back doggedly all were told there is a limit of twenty fish per the time until he is near enough to see the day for one angler. the average fish is net, which sets him on fire again. though two pounds, a good one is four pounds, a angler and fish are both tired, he makes a "corker" is six. i have never caught a last spurt away and breaks water for the “corker," and to tell the truth i would not last time. then he comes up and the guide like to labor with many six-pound ouana with a swift, deep stroke brings the strug- niche. gling, kicking beauty ashore. he is a and now for the cast! a long caster has four-pound fish and your guide praises you the best chances. a cast of fifty feet is greatly and says in french, “you are a fit good; one of seventy is better, one of a antagonist." hundred gets the largest fish. our object never attempt to net the fish yourself is to land the fly on the foam in the middle, on the first day or so; let the guides do if possible, and let it sink just a few seconds, that and see how they manage it. one sometimes less. remember the foam is practical lesson is worth a good deal. the constantly moving; sometimes it touches ouananiche is very hard indeed to get in the rocks. then the tyro has his chances, the net; he is so frightened at it and the but this applies only to the smaller fish. angler that he will again and again dart off, the larger fish stay out at least fifty feet. and the same careful playing must be they see the fishermen casting and are repeated every time. it is no use to hurry therefore wary. when a large fish takes matters with the fine tackle i recommend, the fly he at once feels something wrong. and heavy coarse tackle they will not take. he first gives a quick shake, maybe to there are times when both flies are shake the fly down; then he feels the barb, taken at once. in such cases more care for he cannot swallow that. instantly is required and it is absolutely necessary down into the deep water he plunges like a that the guide should net them. he runaway horse. nothing will stop him. knows just the right moment to get them, then from the bottom we can feel him sail that is, when the fish are close to each ing up again at the same breakneck speed, other. and like a flash he breaks through the and so the fishing goes on through the water high into the air. there is some day with a short interval for a fish lunch thing in this moment never to be forgotten if any are caught. otherwise a can of beef -“our first salmon," the roaring water of is opened; but it is considered very un- the falls, and the reel screaming!. down favorable to open a can, and if the angler again he goes, but not so deep this time. is a duffer the guide will himself offer to he tears along, and to our surprise he try his skill. as he says, “just enough for breaks again one hundred feet away. like our luncheon," and invariably he gets lightning he is back at our very feet and enough for luncheon. afterward we envi. out of the water again. what a beauty he ously try to emulate his skill. is—for a second in the air with gills expand at the close of the day, thoroughly tired, ing and mouth wide open, and we stand we gather the fish and once more embark there breathing hard, not knowing what for the return journey. our twenty fish to do or what is coming. our line is trail will weigh from thirty to seventy pounds. ing in the water, for we are not as yet at this season of the year there is no need accustomed to his antics. after he views to try any other flies, for none are so effec- his tormentor he goes down below, eighty tive as the good silver doctor and jock feet deep, and then he holds himself there scott. these flies may be purchased in and shakes his body back and forth like a the best and most reliable tackle shops in bulldog.. with arms tired and aching you new york city for forty cents each. they still hold on, and here comes the final test can be purchased in quebec at the same of the gut, and that test will prove if you price. understand just the right tension to hold. this gamey fish may also be caught in a jerk or just a little give will lose him. maine, but the conditions are entirely he is well hooked and only poor handling different. they are mostly in deep lakes will give him a chance. meanwhile the and their mode of capture is essentially guide goes down the rock to the edge of the different and to my mind not half so excit- water, standing calm with net in hand, ing. at the décharge the turbulent water now and then giving a word of advice, gives a dash and go to the game entirely which gives us confidence in ourselves so lacking so far as i know in maine waters. that we mentally resolve to land that the expense of the trip is somewhat lower salmon if possible. during this sulk the in maine, bụt the canadian experience is fish will lie there from five to twenty well worth the extra cost. saving the crops by a. s. atkinson "he economy of spraying fruit and vege along roadsides. the army worm takes possession of the weeds along the hedges, questioned; but there is another side to and later appears in great numbers to raid the subject that is worth emphasizing: the orchards, gardens and fields. it is a we can fight the bugs, worms, beetles, and surprise sometimes to know where so many other insects quite effectually, in garden of these worms suddenly come from, but and orchard by observing very simple rules. the secret is an open one. they have been one of the best checks to insect pests is to quietly breeding among the bushes and adopt a sensible rotation of crops. from weeds. by cutting them down and burn- the point of view of maintaining the fertil ing them in early summer we destroy thou- ity of the soil a proper system of rotation sands of the insects. is essential, but when we add to it the bene the third step to check insect spreading fit derived in checking the spread of insects is to encourage the growth of natural it should be emphatically recommended. enemies of noxious worms, flies and insects. we can partly check the onion maggot, these beneficial insect destroyers should cabbage maggot and many similar pests by be known and recognized by all. the com- simply changing the crops from season to mon toad is one of the best friends of the season. the insects are starved out by gardener. a single toad will destroy a this process, and the larvæ hatched out score or two flies and insects every day. from last season's crop find no natural food toads should be encouraged to spend their to live on. no crop should be raised more days of usefulness in the garden. birds, than two successive seasons on the same especially the martins and bluebirds and piece of ground. in some cases one year common swallows, are great insect de- for each crop is better. crops following stroyers, but unfortunately it is difficult should be as different in their character to keep these around in great numbers. istics as possible, so there may be no danger however, by feeding them and building of the old enemies eating the new plants. bird houses for their young, it is possible onions should not follow cabbages on the to encourage them to stay with us. same piece of ground, nor lettuce come the insects which prey upon noxious after tomatoes or parsley. insects are the most difficult friends for us the rotation can be accomplished only to recognize. extensive efforts have been by keeping a complete map or diagram of made to introduce insects in this country the garden from year to year. by a little for destroying garden and orchard pests, planning next season's cabbage patch can but we would do well to recognize the be far removed from this season's, so that virtues of our own common garden friends. the maggots cannot readily find it. corn the california lady beetles have accom- may follow the cabbages, and turnips may plished much in destroying the cottony come after the spring and summer lettuce. cushioned scale; and now the chinese lady by the right rotation of crops, and proper beetles have been imported to fight the care so that the plants will grow rapidly, san josé scale. all the lady beetles de- the insect pests can be controlled to a con stroy noxious insects, and the common siderable extent. in the case of the hes tiger beetle is another excellent fighter in sian fly decided benefits are obtained in the our behalf. the common ants will destroy wheat' fields by changing the position of many noxious insects, and if their own the crop each successive season. numbers are not allowed to increase so as the second step in fighting the insect to prove a nuisance, their presence in the pests without spraying is to cut down all garden is more beneficial than injurious. the weeds, bushes and certain wild trees nearly all the lady beetles eat plant lice, of the roadsides, hedges and nearby fields so that the latter may be kept down with- which tend to harbor insects. the wild out much difficulty. there are many cherry tree is the worst offender in this parasites which attack the cocoons of respect. it is found growing nearly every noxious insects, and their presence should where, and usually in late summer it is be encouraged. instead of destroying thick with insects. the wild cherry tree cocoons that show signs of attack by affords excellent food and shelter for the parasites, it is wise to let them remain, so apple tree tent caterpillar. the descend the parasites may do their work and spread ants of the caterpillars nourished on the for another season. the fresh cocoons, leaves of the wild cherry fly into nearby which show no signs of injury, are the ones orchards and deposit their eggs on the to destroy; the slimy, worm-eaten ones apple trees. likewise the grapeberry are the ones to leave. moth, which so disastrously attacks many all of these steps in fighting insects sup- vineyards, breeds and multiplies in the small plementary to spraying with insecticides hedge bushes and young trees of all kinds are important in the ordinary garden. the outing magazine advertiser (continued from preceding page) here are the ancient missions, founded when the land was young, so cool and restful that you want to linger on and on delving in their long-forgotten lore. here are the shadowed valleys filled to overflowing with flowers of perennial bloom, the like of which no other land affords—and last, the blue pacific, that fans you with her refreshing breath as you speed safely along within a short stone throw of the lace-fringed beach, or bathe in her invigorating waters. the road of a thousand wonders calls aloud to those who seek the one summer vacation of a lifetime. it cannot be de- scribed or imagined. you must traverse it to revel in its glories, and now is the time. for particulars regarding resorts, rates and trains, address chas. s. fee, pas- senger traffic manager, southern pacific company, room k, union ferry depot, san francisco, california. when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine mr. roberts' roberts' “red fox” by john burroughs women. have thought it would be interesting the den on your own farm? in scot- and possibly amusing to go through land," charles st. john says, “the cot- mr. roberts' “red fox'' and see when and tagers who live near the woods are con- where one could detect the man under the stantly complaining of the foxes, who steal fur, or point out wherein his hero is nearer their fowls frequently in broad daylight, akin to the human than to the vulpine. i carrying them off before the faces of the have genuine admiration for mr. roberts' women, but never committing themselves genius, and when i read this animal stories in this way when the men are at home." this last part of the statement is probably his subject, and so taken by the fine descrip based upon the hasty observation of the tion and the wild flavor of it all, that i have a man in my neighborhood who to make a special effort to keep an eye on lives near the woods frequently had his his natural history. i have constantly to chickens caught by foxes in the daytime. nudge myself and say, “look out! you are is there any reason to suppose those foxes being hoodwinked, it is the author himself do not live in the immediate vicinity? no, who is playing the part of red fox now.” the reasoned cunning which mr. roberts mr. roberts says in his preface and thereby, ascribes to his fox is human and not vulpine. as it were, challenges the acumen of his i can think of but one reason why a fox reader, that his red fox is a real fox, that should go to a distant farm for its poultry: he is fairly typical of his kind, though it is afraid to invade the hen-roosts near at "stronger and cleverer than the average run hand. it sees so much life there during of foxes." but i am bound to say that he the day and early evening-human voices, is cleverer than i believe it possible for any the barking of dogs, the firing of guns, etc. fox to be, and that mr. roberts puts him —that it becomes shy of the place, while self in his place time after time. distant farms, which it would be likely to most of the lower animals we know share pass through only late at night, would seem our emotion, but they do not share our comparatively safe, or has the fox this intellectual powers, they do not put this human trait, that it looks for rich finds and that together and draw reasonable only far from home? whatever may be conclusions. our complex psychology has the fact, it is unwise to seek to account for no room to turn around inside their small an animal's conduct on difficult and com- brains. the animal-story writer is con plex grounds when a simple explanation stantly in danger of endowing them with serves better. his own faculties and motives in order to i do not think mr. roberts is within the account for their conduct. he reasons for truth of natural history when he makes his them and imputes to them his own knowl foxes pair and the male assist in caring for edge. mr. roberts does this repeatedly in the young. so far as is known, foxes do “red fox." the mother fox, for instance, not differ in this respect from the habits of was too wary, too prudent, to molest the domestic dog. the two sexes appear poultry near home. she did not wish to live quite apart except in the mating notoriety in her own neighborhood. “she season in february. there is no conjugal would pass a flock of waddling ducks, near union between them lasting through the home, without condescending to notice year, as mr. roberts sets forth. accord- their attractions." "she had no wish to ing to all the evidence i have been able to advertise herself." and she succeeded in collect, the female lives alone with her impressing this policy upon young. red young and brings them up without aid fox. she taught him the subtle wisdom from the male. it is possible of course of this saying, “that easy hunting is not that the male may visit the den at night, always good hunting. where and how but how shall we prove or disprove a the mother fox learned so much human statement of this kind? in fact, i cannot nature does not appear. i know that now recall one case among our mammals country people sometimes fool themselves where there is anything like a permanent with the belief that, for prudential reasons, union between the sexes or where the males the fox will not molest poultry on the aid in rearing the young. if the mother farms near its den. but there is no proof bird had nursed her young, it is probable of the soundness of such an opinion. that the male would be as indifferent to his how are you to know that the fox that family the male mammals now are in- carried off your turkey and goose came different to theirs. but mr. roberts from a den five miles away, and not from makes his foxes live together and hunt a the outing magazine together and share equally in the cares of the family from year to year. last june, near a new england college town, the girls took me one morning early to see a den of young foxes in a field within easy rifle range of the highway and trolley line. a milkman who had come down the road half an hour before we reached the place, said that as he came along he saw five young foxes playing about the den, and one old one. he shouted at them and they all ran in the hole. when we came in sight of the den two of them had come out, a young one and the old one. the old one was sitting down like a dog, appar- ently observing her young one as it ran about near the den. i have no doubt at all that this old one was the mother fox. the milkman told us that he saw them nearly every morning, and that he had never seen but one old fox among them. this agrees with previous observations of mine and with all i can learn from hunters and trappers. if mr. roberts had been a fox hunter, he would have known that a wounded fox takes to hole as soon as possible, and does not stop and wait for the hounds to come up and grapple with it. of course a fox may be so sorely wounded that it cannot reach its den, but in this case the fox stops amid the rocks and awaits the dogs. think, too, of a fox, in trying to lead the hounds away from its den, knowing enough to stop upon its old trail and stand there deliberately, having thought the matter all out, long enough for the new scent to over- power the old so that the hounds would be switched off when they reached that point! is not mr. roberts again in the fox's place? a little further along in the story we come upon the old fable of the fox baffling his pursuers by running across the backs of a flock of sheep. fancy such a thing! even if reynard were astute enough to try such a trick, fancy a flock of sheep standing in a compact body with a wild animal rac- ing across their backs! both sheep and foxes are misrepresented in this incident. again, he makes his fox show an interest in, and a curiosity about, the first snow and ice that it saw quite equal to that which a person from the tropics might show. now think it quite certain that the animals, wild or domestic, are not at all curious about the general phenomena of nature, nor disturbed by them. a sudden change from a brown world to a white world does not apparently attract their attention at all. but red fox was startled and alarmed by the change and dared not ven- ture out from his den. he at first chought it was feathers and that there had been a great hunting, and not till he had smelled of it and took some of it in his mouth, was he convinced that it was not feathers! is not this putting one's self in the fox's place? our author trips in his natural history when he assumes that the skunk betrays himself by his odor as he goes about his business in the fields and woods. red fox had had an encounter with one, and of course came off a sadder but a wiser fox. but he found this advantage in the unsav- ory odor that advertised him wherever he went: “his hunting became distinctly easier, for the small wild creatures were deceived by the scent." they thought it was a skunk which is slow of movement, whereas it was a fox which is very quick. this was a gain to the fox, but it worked against the skunks, for the word soon went ahead through the woods that some skunks were swift of foot and terrible of spring as a wild cat; and therefore all skunks of the ringwaak country found the chase made more difficult for them." now this is slandering the skunk, which does not wear its scent bag upon its sleeve as it goes about, but is as free from the odor which is the weapon of its defense as is the fox or any other animal. one night i met one near my own door and came near stroking it with my hand thinking it was the cat, but i saw the gleam of white in time to save me probably from the expedient of having to bury my clothes, to say nothing of having to bury or remove one end of my house. trappers will tell you that the skunk is quite odorless even when caught in a steel trap, till the death blow is dealt it. twice in the course of this story red fox “plays possum, feigns death and thereby effects his escape from his captors. i do not take any stock at all in this legend of the fox playing possum. i do not believe it ever happens. i can gather no evidence of it among trappers and hunters, but i freely admit that such a fox as mr. roberts, describes might easily be capable of the trick -a fox so wise that he knew a certain farmer in the valley below was no adept with the gun and therefore did not fear him; that knew another farmer was not at home one day when he approached his wagon shed because the wagon was gone; that, in order to escape the hounds when the pursuit be- came too hot, jumped into the hind end of a wagon that was passing along the road and curled up in it behind a bag of feed; that knew that a strangely acting muskrat had gone mad, and that therefore its bite would be fatal to her young: that knew a small dark cloud moving up the slope toward him as he sat on the ridge to be a swarm of bees and that the bees were probably bound for a hollow tree in the mountain-and so on through a long list of things that men alone are supposed to know and to do. mr. roberts would not have exposed his “red fox" to this kind of criticism if he had not taken pains to assure his reader that his story was substantially true, and that there is abundant evidence that the fox may and does show all the intelligence, adaptability and foresight that he ascribes to his hero in this book. as literature, the work has many merits, but as natural history, it is erroneous and misleading in many particulars, the outing magazine advertiser trade mark bull dog suspenders warm weather tests suspender quality that's when ordinary suspenders wear out quickly. that's when their trimmings rust, their colors run and spoil the linen, or else fade out. that's when they become lifeless because the small strands of poor quality rubber used rot quickly. that's when buli dog suspenders prove their superiority with best nickel and gilt trimmings that never rust, with colors sweat-proof that never fade, and with webbing containing more and better real, live rubber, they outwear three pairs of the other kinds light and cool, they are the most comfortable hot weather suspender. made in light and heavy weights, also extra lengths and youths' sizes. your dealer will gladly show them to you if he has them; if not, we will send you a pair by mail, postpaid, for cents. hewes & potter dept. lincoln street boston, mass. largest and best suspender and belt makers in the world when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser heinz the name that guarantees pure vinegar so common has adulteration become that there is but one safe way for the average housewife to buy vinegar, and that is-by name. the name of heinz on food pro- ducts carries with it a guarantee of abso- lute purity and wholesomeness. on vinegar it assures the purchaser of the finest quality nature, skill and superior equipment can produce. we make three kinds—malt vinegar for table use and salad dressing; white pickling for pickling and preserving, also excellent for the table; cider vinegar for those who prefer it. none of these contains an atom of impurity or adulteration; each is the finest of its class, exceeding in strength and purity the requirements of all state and government pure food authorities. heinz malt vinegar is brewed in a special manner from selected barley malt. its delightful aroma and smooth- ness make it indispensable where fine flavor is desired. you can buy heinz pure vinegar at any reliable grocer's in sealed bottles or by measure. but be sure you are pro- tected by the name heinz, for vine- gar is an article easily substituted. heinz vinegars with heinz pure olive oil make a salad combina- tion unsurpassed. others of the varieties are heinz sweet pic- kles, chow chow, india relish, preserved fruits, baked beans, etc. heinz fermente pure malt vinegar pieties oducts h. j. heinz company, “ the girl in the white cap" will send you a helpful booklet about vinegar if you write for it. new york chicago pittsburgh london when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser 다​. "prosknit reg. u.s. pat. off. because it is porous, is the ideal summer underwear poroskrit lets your body breathe through the countless tiny perforations in the fabric, potosiknit carries the air right to your skin, and fresh air, you know, is more cooling even than water. porosknit". is the ideal underwear for summer because, besides being cool and clean, it dries quickly, absorbs moisture, dispels odor. cents retail ask your dealer for potoskrit ( booklet in blue and gold, “from dawn to bed,” free to those who write for it. chalmers knitting company washington street, amsterdam, n. y. when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser lountains sort deuces coca-cola adds a refreshing relish sold at all founts ¢ to every form carbonated in bottles of exercise massengale atlanta the outing magazine advertiser touring time is rambler time he success of your trip is entirely de- pendent upon the reliability of your car. then, as at no other time, is a capacity for steady ser- vice under all conditions of such paramount importance. the production of a car of absolute dependability has ever been the primal object of the rambler factory, and the thousands of these cars now in constant service are ample proof of successful efforts. built in seven models, $ , to $ , main office and factory, kenosha, wis. branches: chicago, - wabash ave. milwaukee, - broadway boston, columbus ave. philadelphia, n. broad st. san francisco, sanchez st. new york agency, - w. nd st. representatives in all leading cities. thomas b. jeffery & company model , $ , wher corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertİser duffy's sterilized duffy's trade mark “ the best of all beverages” the pleasure of an outing afloat or ashore is increased by the cooling comfort of a good draught of duffy's apple juice. for healthfulness and deliciousness there's no other beverage comparable with it. it has the ripe flavor of freshly gathered apples, with a snap and sparkle all its own. duffy's apple juice is the pure juice of the ripe apples, sterilized and non- alcoholic. it is the health drink par excellence for old and young. sold by all first class grocers and druggists. if your dealer cannot supply you send us $ . for trial dozen bottles; all charges prepaid to any part of the united states. duffy's mother goose book for the children sent free on request. american fruit product co. white street, rochester, n. y. w when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser pope pope reliability kartford hartford pope-hartford, model g. there's the maximum of enjoyment and minimum of care and expense in a -cylinder gasoline car whose cardinal points of value have been proved by a season's use and whose details of design, construction and equipment have been improved in accordance with the suggestions that come only with experience. if you want a car for yourself or for family use, dependable, easy running, a good hill climber and efficient in the broad sense of the term, a machine you can drive and care for yourself, you can't afford to overlook the pope-hartford, model g which gives unusual value for the price. body: divided front seat and double side entrance tonneau. seating capacity: five. motor: two-cylinder, horizontal opposed, located under the hood. horse power: . ignition: jump spark. transmission: sliding gear, three speeds forward and reverse. drive: shaft with bevel gears. brakes : double-acting brakes expanding in drums attached to each rear wheel hub; double-acting band brake attached to rear of transmission shaft. (with top $ extra.) price, $ . pope-hartford, model f. our model, a modern -cylinder, gasoline, h. p. touring car. for speed, quietness and hill climbing it can't be equalled at anywhere near the price. (with top $ extra.) $ . pope-tribune, model v. a modern car at a moderate price. it is a thoroughly reliable two-cylinder gasoline, h. p. touring car, easy to operate and economical to maintain. price with tonneau or rear deck, $ . pope manufacturing co., hartford, conn. new york city: b'way. boston : columbus ave. a. l. a. m, washington : th st., n. w. when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine - the outing magazine advertiser jack london says: russian trade mark. trade mark. "after my return to california i began to wonder what in the dickens bad become of those cigarets. and now your cigarets and the letter arrive together. i have sam pled ihem and they are fine. what i like about them is that they are not sickenly sweet and heavy. i bey're just right—the real thing. with best wishes (signed) jack london." makaroff c jack london has smoked cigarets the world over. he is in a makaroff position to make comparisons. he writes me in another letter russian that he first smoked real russian cigarets during the russo-japa- nese war and that since that experience he has never found the cigarets real thing in cigarets" until he tried makaroff's. cigarets now listen to me my enthusiasm over these cigarets is due entirely to my knowledge of them and of cigarets in general. i admit that i am a crank on the subject. i have been a crank on smoke for twenty lcave in your office or apartments no trace of the odor usually years. when i talk about smoke i am talking from the smoker's associated with cigarets. i defy anybody who approves the odor standpoint-your standpoint and mine, as smoke cranks—and not of any good smoke to object to the odor of these cigarets. (you as a manufacturer. i am a smoker first and a manufacturer know what the usual cigaret odor is like.) afterward. i started the manufacture of these goods strictly be another thing-you can smoke the cigarets day in and day out cause that was the only way to be sure that my friends and myself without any of that nervousness or ill feeling which most smokers were going to be supplied with them regularly. if you know any are familiar with as a result of ordinary cigaret smoking. this is thing about the uncertainties of importing from russia you know straight talk and i mean it. these cigarets won't hurt you and i speak facts. you owe it to yourself to find it out for yourself. i am now extending the sale of makaroff russian cigarets to the cigarets are packed in cedar boxes, one hundred to the my other friends-the one's i haven't seen, but who are my box - done up like the finest cigars. friends just the same because they like the good things of life as i your own monogram do. nearly every box of makaroff russian cigarets discovers one in gold will be put on your cigarets just as soon as you have tried them out and want them regularly. of these friends for me. i seldom fail to get a hearty handshake by return mail. the friends i get i keep. that's why i can i will gladly send you full information about these cigarets, but afford to take all the risk of pleasing you, and i do it. talk is deaf and dumb compared with actually smoking them. makaroff russian cigarets are offered to connoisseurs (another smoke is the final test. my offer name for cranks) on the basis of smoking quality alone. they send me your order for a trial hundred of the size and value have got to please you as a particular smoker, better than anything you have ever smoked before, or i don't want a cent. you prefer. try the cigarets-smoke the full hundred if you wish. they are made of pure, clean, sweet tobacco, the finest and if you don't like them say so and your money will be instantly highest priced russian and turkish growths, blended scientifically returned. you need not trouble to return any of the cigarets. i by our own russian blenders. the russians are the only real will take my chances on your giving any you don't want to some artists at cigaret blending-don't forget that. one who will like them and who will order more. these cigarets are blended, made and aged as old wines are- i knew that american connoisseurs would be quick to follow by men with traditions of quality to live up to—men who have europeans in recognizing the absolute superiority in smoking spent their lives at it and who have generations of experience back quality of russian cigarets. of them. my sales last month were four times those of three months every cigaret is made by hand, by an artist. every one is ago and only one man would take his money back. inspected before packing. i pass personally on the smoking qual .f you wish to enjoy cigarets at their best without injury to ity of every lot of tobacco blended. we use the thinnest paper your health, to your own sense of refinement or to that of your ever put on a cigaret. friends, tear out my coupon now, and get acquainted with real note this particularly—it's a big point. these cigarets will cigaret quality. the makaroff company of america (g. nelson douglas.) milk street, boston, mass. suite draw a circle around the price indicating your selection find enclosed remittance for $ no specia akare in favor of g. nelson douglas for which czarevitch size three values $ . , $ . , $ . per please send me, prepaid, hundred i cigarettes of size and value indicated hereon. name czar size three values $ . , $ . , $ . per p. o. above blends also made in ladies size. prices on application when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser model k winton tire-saving tiri tires are the costliest item in motoring expense. big tires cost more than small tires of sim- ilar grade, of course. but, big tires cover more ground at every turn of the crankshaft, and at every stroke of the piston. that means greater road speed, with the same amount of piston-wear, gasoline, electricity and lubrication. big tires also mean smoother-running, and less vibration. because, a big tire won't drop into ruts in the road, as a smaller tire must do. and, big tires have less pressure on them per square inch of contact with the road. they also bridge over railway tracks, or humps better, take a broader tread on poor traction, and have a greater area of stretchy rubber to divide the bouncing over, on rough roads. when only two people are seated in a two-seated car, the regular sprirgs are too stilt to respond readily to the vibrations caused by running over rough roads or 'thank-ye-mums.". in this case the pneumatic tires being "quicker" (more responsive than the over-stiff springs) take up the jar before the under-loaded springs have had time to act. and that, too, wears out the tires by making them do spring-work, in addition to traction-work and the ob- struction-bridging, which should be their sole duty, if they would retain long-life. in one. now, the winton twin-springs are really two sets with light loads, and smooth-running, only one set of the twin single springs comes into play. this set is more supple, more responsive to slight jars, and ordinary vibrations, than even the pneumatic tires are. so, they take up two-thirds of the vibration and jar before the tires are called upon to do it. in this way they anticipate tire-work on the largest part of that springing which cracks, breaks, deflates and wears out pneumatic tires. and, when the winton model k car is fully-loaded, or when it runs at high speed over rough roads even lightly-loaded, this is what happens- the leaves of the light primary set of springs then sag down and rest on the second or auxiliary set of leaves- which are shackled to the light primary set as a reserve source of strength. but, you knew all that before-perhaps. and, perhaps you wondered why more cars were not equipped with big tires. well, here's the answer! big tires cost the car manufacturer a great deal more to equip each car with than smaller tires. and, when a big tire goes 'busted” on a car it costs the owner considerably more to replace it than a smaller tire. and, owners realize that the replacing of tires is practically a sure thing to figure on about once a season with the average car. the conclusions are evident. now, mr. motorist: the winton model k has the best reason in the world for using big tires. that reason consists in the winton patented twin- springs, which have been lengthened and perfected after last year's period of use and success. these winton twin-springs take up half the work of the tires, and so, make the said tires last about twice as long as they would have lasted with any other kind of springs. that constitutes our license to put on the new win- ton model k the finest set of big -inch tires on any american car. because, the winton twin-springs will take care of these costly tires so they rarely need renewing. consider the result, mr. motorist. the two sets of springs (leaves) then work together, as one heavy set would; giving twice the strength when that is needed, and twice the responsiveness when the extra strength is not needed. this adjustment to light loads or heavy loads is automatic, and graduated as finely as the winton pneu- matic speed-control, which gives you any speed desired, between miles an hour and miles, merely by pres- sure of your right foot upon a soft spring pedal. without the tire-saving effect of the patented win- ton twin-springs, a superb set of giant tires like those on the winton mouel k might prove an expensive lux. ury on any car not equipped with twin-springs. -four cyli der vertical motor. -self-starting from the seat. - new compensating carburetor. - new precision "shooting' oiler. - magnificent carriage work-dashing style, and superb upholstering. price. $ , , and only one model made this season. our book, "the motor car dissected," tells the rea- sons. write for a copy to- the winton motor carriage co., dept. s, cleveland. ohio. now how do they save the tires? you ask. well, springs, you know, should be adjusted to the load they carry, in order to give effective service. when you load a set of ordinary motor-car springs with four heavy people, you over-load them. then the springs compel the pneumatic tires to do part of the bouncing, over rough roads-bouncing that the springs should have taken care of themselves. when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine dillon wallace leonidas hubbard's companion on that first tragic expedition into the labrador wild, who has returned from a year of remarkable exploration and adventure in the unknown north for the outing magazine "the long labrador trail,” mr. wallace's story, begins in this number. painting by j. g. sommer. ar pan ser pan in the catskills the mystery of the forest pa se - the outing magazine vol. xlviii number august, the renaissance of coney by charles belmont davis illustrated by hy. s. watson f var down on the new york bowery the proprietor to deceive, for his class of there exists to-day a highly colored patrons probably have never heard of miss poster of a young woman in an ab russell or the divinities of the french breviated skirt, a décolleté waist and a music halls; the poster is simply the em- plumed picture-hat. the poster is pasted blem, and the east-side tough and the sailor on a billboard and the board leans against ashore for a spree know it and know that the front of a dance hall. in the mornings within they can find wine, women and song, the place is quite deserted, but during the and all of the three in their most degraded late afternoon hours and again at night the forms. the day has not long passed when little tin tables which are scattered about the bowery was fairly rich in such resorts, the room are fairly well occupied; there is but now they are gone, and so far as i know a rush of waiters in soiled coats between the all that is left is the dive of which i have bar in front and the groups about the ta spoken and which still hangs out its brazen bles, and a young woman sings ballads and banner on the sidewalk. comic songs from a little stage in the rear of when the traffic deserted its old haunts the hall. this young woman has a hard, the managers of the dance halls gathered rasping voice, but sufficient in volume, how up their paraphernalia and the greasy- ever, to reach the passers-by on the street. coated waiters and started a new bowery like the lady on the picture outside, she has far from the old stand-a land unknown a short skirt, but there the resemblance to the reformer and where law and justice ends, for the poster outside is usually of cut but a sorry figure. this chosen spot some well-known celebrity such as lillian was called coney island, and they chris- russell or a divinity of the french music tened that part of it which they chose to halls. there is no intention on the part of degrade the bowery-probably in grate- copyrighted, , by the outing publishing company. all rights reserved. the outing magazine of the swag. ful memory of the palmy days when they up a particularly bright electric light in its were allowed to ply their trade much nearer midst. it is highly improbable that the to city hall, even in the shadow of the men who reformed coney island had this tombs. they opened the doors of the idea in view when they threw their net- dance halls, and either side of the single work of millions of electric globes across street which constituted the town were this end of the island, but the result was lined with the three-sheet posters of the the same. any one who can rob or even gaily bedecked artists who were supposed practice the mildest deception under the to perform within. in addition to the present white light of publicity is deserving dance halls there were a few “shows” to which an admission was charged, but the there are several ways to reach coney shows were “fakes” of the most pronounced island, at least new yorkers will tell you kind and their managers pre- there are, but the average new tended them to be little else. yorker is for some reason whol- two classes of people support- ly ignorant of the geography ed these shows and dance halls which immediately surrounds -innocent souls from the coun- him. in a general way he try who believed that they knows that there is a north were seeing city life in its most and an east river and a bay devilish form, and thoroughly and a sound, but their exact knowing men and girls from location is usually rather hazy the city who knew just how to his mind, and he differen- soiled “coney” was and liked tiates them solely by the friends it for that very reason. it he happens to know who own became the meeting place of summer homes on their various the city's petty thieves, the banks. when i first sought touts from the neighboring race information as to the best mode tracks and the lowest social of reaching coney island i am strata of the metropolis. some- sure twenty different routes times little parties of sight- were presented, and each was seers of a better class dined guaranteed to be the safest and at brighton beach and drove best. they included trips by over afterwards for a look at excursion boats, ferry-boats “the bowery." they went railroad trains, trolleys, ele- there prepared to buy gold vated trains, hacks, automo- bricks, and they were not dis- biles and combinations of a appointed. coney island in part or all of these. i believe i those days was synonymous tried every one of them, and for everything that was corrupt eventually found that the only and lawless-and then there logical route is to take an ele- came the reformation, for the vated train at the brocklyn change seemed to have hap- . .w bridge; ask every guard's, pened over night. from a one of coney's "children.” policeman's and official's advice social sore coney island was in sight, and then by taking turned into the most extensive and best the trains you are told not to take you show place in the world. i have no in will eventually arrive at coney island, terest, i regret to say, in any of the nu this route costs but a dime, and includes merous enterprises which constitute 'this a trip across the bridge and a wonderful amusement village, nor any particular de view of the chimneys and second-story sire to advertise any of its attractions, but bedrooms of all brooklyn. the chimn- it is a pleasure to speak truly about a place neys are distinctive in the fact that each which can give so much happiness to chil one is decorated by a billboard painted dren of mature years. there is a theory to represent a huge human molar, and that crime must be conceived in darkness, in the center of each is the picture of and it is an old practice of the authorities to the painless dentist himself with a large clean up a vicious neighborhood by hanging black moustache. the brooklyn second- the renaissance of coney story bedrooms assert their similarity to taurants afford some kind of entertainment each other in that whatever the hour --if it is only a gentleman who bangs out the chambermaid seems to have always "rag-time" on a bad piano. some of them neglected to make up the bed since the rise to the dignity of the employment of so- previous night, and each room contains called hungarian bands, but these are all one occupant-a man sitting in his shirt wide open on the street, and all are free and sleeves, always collarless, and reading an most of them are decorated with signs which evening paper. the chimneys and bed announce that "basket-parties are wel- rooms extend for many miles, but at last come.” some day there will be a good res- we get into the open and a land of semi-de taurant at coney island, but that day is not tached villas and arid acres, identified solely yet. several of those now existent have red by large signs whereon real estate agents lamp shades and one has beardless waiters, tell us that on these very acres great cities but the old régime had a keen disregard for will soon arise. and then at last across the fresh tablecloths, and its feelings are still meadows we see the towers and the bizarre respected. the same old régime also left a shaped walls of the play-houses of the city few of its members, who have tried to give of pleasure. the old tone to the new town. this rem- we enter coney island by the stage door nant of the past has built its home on a as it were, and as the train slows down we little street just back of the main thorough- find ourselves surrounded by the unpainted fare and directly on the sea, and here one backs and wooden frame-work of the can finds a very mild and wholly uninteresting vas walls of tinsel villages. the first thing view of what was once typical of coney isl- that impresses us about this pleasure and. there are open dance halls and open ground is that it is un- like the other "midways" and “pikes" and county fairs we have seen in that it is a city and not the temporary show-place of the fakirs. the one street of which the town practically consists is paved, and there are ca- limente ble cars and electric-light poles and policemen and all the other signs of the organized common- wealth. it is only in the architecture and the uses of the buildings that line the little street wherein we see the difference. every house seems to be either a restaurant or a so-called amusement- palace. here and there we find a modest little haberdasher or a trim- ming-store tucked away between the gaudy en- trance to a scenic-railway or a "johnstown flood," but these little shops ap- pear very insignificant and seem really sadly out hs-watson of place. even the res- the main street in the city of fun." admission the outing magazine ! ings. the year of will be memorable, if for nothing else than those two terrible disasters, the burning of the iroquois thea- ter and the excursion boat general slocum. so great was the supposed revulsion of feel- ing on the part of the public after the first of these disasters that theatrical managers found it necessary to cut out any use of flames in a stage performance, and in sev- eral instances when a "fire-scene" was nec- essary to a production the whole play was abandoned. and yet, perhaps, the two most successful shows at coney island last summer were the exhibitions, really terrible in their realism, of burning buildings, which seems to show that the morbid love of the public for devastating flames is just as great as it ever was, only the public must be guaranteed absolute personal safety. in addition to these grewsome exhibitions of disasters there are many other indepen- dent shows of a lighter nature such as trips through imitation coal mines and canals and even the sewers of the great cities. but the foundation of coney island's success is not so much in these independent shows as in the three great so-called "parks” which form the nucleus of the pleasure village. each of the three is a midway in itself, and the only difference between them is the very natural advantages which the last two have gleaned from the successes and failures anything for a "sensation." of their predecessors. the same crowd variety performances, where a lot of wood visits all the three, and each has its own eny chorus girls and very dull comedians particular attractions and faithful admirers. attempt to lure the passer-by in for a glass on a fine day or still better on a fine night of beer. but the white light of the new these parks, which are incidentally built town shines fiercely down upon them and with solid floor foundations, and each cover- upon their poor entertainment, and must ing as much space as a “midway” or “pike,” eventually drive them as it did the other are crowded with a great surging mass of cheap and bad shows to another hunting men, women and children, and all with but ground. one purpose amusement. it would be as difficult, in a short article, that is where the showman of coney to describe, even enumerate, all the shows island has the advantage of the city theat- which line the main thoroughfares as it rical manager. when a man or more espe- would be to see the sights of a world's fair in cially a woman pays two dollars for an or- twenty-four hours. the best one can do is chestra seat he or she becomes the critic to wander along until he or she finds an elec and mentally demands the full worth of the tric sign which promises something to their money expended. the same public goes taste. should the visitor have a delight to coney island, spends many times the for horrors there is a rare choice of histori- money it would at the theater, smiles con- cal mishaps such as the johnstown or gal- tinually and tries to see the best there is in veston floods, the mount pelee eruption, everything. coney island is regarded as a the fall of pompeii, or several realistic ex lark, and it is treated with the same joyous hibitions of whole blocks of burning build- regard as is the annual visit to the circus. t ago att * s matuoni the renaissance of coney old men and old women come with their turned around three or four times, usually children and grandchildren, and according reaches the bottom of the slide head-first. to their worldly goods dine at a restaurant at first glance this would seem to be an un- or bring their suppers in a basket and after- necessary mishap, and yet hundreds of men wards go to one show or fifty as the case and women slide down all day and night, may be, but they always go with the spirit to the delight of the gaping thousands. it of the holiday upon them, and it is this great is surely a strange pastime for the sane, but mixed mass of humanity and the good-will the spirit of joy is abroad and the sight of a that pervades it that more than all else serene-looking and elderly fat lady bump- make coney island what it is to-day. justing her way down this wooden hillside and as the best scenery yet devised was ar ending with a couple of somersaults to fin- ranged by the creator of this world, so its ish off with seems but a proper and legiti- best shows are those wherein the people are mate pastime after one has grown accus- the leading actors. it is not the long tomed to the true spirit of the place. and tailed thoroughbreds with their midget yet these elderly jacks and jills pay for the jockeys that make a derby or a grand pleasure of the bumps, while the crowd be- prix or a suburban, but it is rather the low watches the fun with shouts of glee and waves of human beings frenzied with the pays nothing. the fat lady would proba- love of gambling; it is not the broad road bly excuse herself by telling you that she ways nor the overhanging trees of the bois was enjoying a new sensation, and in this that make the show, but the women in the perhaps is to be found not only truth but carriages and the clothes the women wear; the great secret which underlies the success the best part of a prize fight is not the sight of coney island's pastimes. there may be of two human brutes pounding each other cynically inclined worldlings who contend into insensibility on a resined floor, but that it is not possible to obtain a real sensa- rather the yelling, crazy mob tion for a dime. if such with its innate love of carnage there be i am sure that that the two brutes have turned one properly conducted into the principal actors. it is visit to coney island will the same at a stock exchange cure them of this idea. or at monte carlo or a court for many years our sim- ball—the people make the show. ple tastes were content all it requires is a little stage- with the merry-go- management, and this the pro- rounds still sacred to moters of pleasure at coney county fairs and cheap island well understand. watering resorts. the a clever person once devised a fire-escape for use in schools, which consisted of a huge metal tube containing a smooth spiral slide. it was only necessary to put a child at the top of the spiral slide, and it would even- tually come out at an open doorway at the bottom. from this has been evolved one of the delights of coney island. in place of the metal tube there is but a low wall to keep the people from shooting out into space as they slide down the spiral chute. there is even a later development of the same idea at dreamland. instead of the spiral chute there is a broad slide glass-like in its smoothness, with raised obstacles placed at intervals. the slidee starts at the top and endeavors to avoid the obstacles. as this is quite impossible, the said slidee, after being it takes a clever man to be a fool. wys watson $ the outing magazine sensation was distinctly mild even in the sensations, and for several days i searched case of children, and grown-ups were usu- for the scenic-railway with the beam that ally attacked with mal-de-mer. to offset looked as if it were going to hit me on the this mildness the showman eventually built head. at last i found it at an independent his merry-go-round with horses which enterprise a short distance from dreamland. plunged about independent of the general it was called a musical railway for some rea- rotary movement of the whole concern. it son i could not understand unless the music is true that a child was sometimes thrown, was out being tuned. the name, however, but it was that little element of danger that may be just a whim of the manager, who made the game worth while. the same i know has a real sense of humor for at the mental reasoning is what makes automo entrance of the first tunnel to his infernal bile-racing and tiger-hunting amusing. railway there is a sign. the inscription is but we eventually outgrew merry-go simple-"no kissing allowed in this tun- rounds—children tired of them and old peo nel.” the tunnel is built on the general ple could ride them without being ill—and plan of an artesian well and about as dark, so the scenic-railway was introduced. sta and it seemed to me that the car dropped tistics would probably show that accidents down the grade at the rate of several hun- are about as rare on scenic-railroads as they dred feet a second. if an elevator contain- are on hearses, but the effect, exhilarating ing a man and woman, complete strangers, to most people, is quite equal to that of go were allowed to fall from the top floor of the ing in an automobile at the rate of fifty flatiron building to the cellar it would be miles an hour. it has one infinite advan- just as reasonable to accuse them of kissing tage over the automobile, for by going down during the fall as it would be to post such a a grade it can drop you into apparently lim notice in front of that tunnel on the musical itless space. the same effect could prob- railway. the real sensation of the beam, ably be obtained by an automobile being however, comes much later in the trip. it driven over the palisades and dropping is at the end of a dark tunnel, and one sees it into the middle of the hudson river. and just after rounding a particularly danger- yet it is this sensation of immediate disaster ous curve. there it is, barely discernible caused by scenic-railways, chute-the-chutes, through the darkened space—a great rough loop-the-loops, all variations of the one idea, beam, built right across the tunnel and just which takes most of the people to coney low enough to knock our heads clear off our island. after some experience i am per bodies. of course we dodge instinctively sonally convinced that one can get a sensa and the beam passes over us many inches, tion for a dime. perhaps feet away, for all i know. but the a friend who had recently “done” coney effect in the darkness and at the rate at island said to me one day: “easily the which the car is rushing is most deceptive. best sensation at the island is the scenic- many people speculate at one time or an- railway with the wooden beam that looks other just what they would do if face to face as if it were going to hit you on the head. with certain death. there is no longer any it's great." my friend was a somewhat reason why they should have any doubt on soured person and satiated with the world's the subject--the sensation can be obtained wys watson listening to the barker's story. the renaissance of coney اینها را اخر at my musical railway, and for the small sum of ten cents. but i think the thing that annoyed me most about that beam was the nonchalant manner with which the gentleman who drove the car approached it. he not only refused to dodge, but not for a moment did he cease chat- ting with the beautiful lady on the seat back of him, and who i suppose must have been a friend of his as she seemed to be on the free list. there is an authentic case of an english officer who, having very narrowly escaped death on several occasions from flying shrapnell feared that he was losing his nerve. to defi- nitely ascertain the truth in the matter he went up in a balloon and then descended to earth by means of a parachute. then he was satisfied that he was all right. on somewhat the same principle i took five successive trips over that musical railway and four nys s wat's on." times i dodged the beam, but the everywhere there are children. fifth time i found my nerve and sailed under it with head erect. another case) like it, because it gives them a chance five rounds and i believe i could have ban to hug the girls; the girls (and every wom- died a few words with the charming lady an is a girl when there is a man in the case) who rode free. this statement is intended like it, because it gives them a chance to for those who visit coney island and tempt get hugged.” each sensation but once. if tickets are the same author a little further along bought for a sensation by the strip i hon in the guide drops his psychological studies estly believe any one can become callous to and does a little descriptive work in re- gard to the mirrored ball-room: there are, of course, a great many ways "an enchanting evening sight is the to spend one's time at coney island, quite numerous handsomely gowned ladies ac- free from shocks. for instance there is the companied by gentlemen in full dress. gigantic ferris wheel, ponderous in its with an attendance of nearly two million movement and most admirably suited for during the season of , the services of a those sentimentally inclined, especially as police officer were not at any time re- the guards always seem to arrange that quired. each car shall hold but two passengers al- “there are four bands of music; but the though they are really built for twenty. music created by our patrons themselves, this, incidentally, has nothing whatever to by their spontaneous laughter, their sounds do with that other most excellent revolving of merriment and harmony of action dis- machine, “the barrel of love." the bar- played, excel by far in volume and tone ker here will tell you that “the ladies like the creation of any band." this show the best of all.” here is the here is one more morsel touching on reason for this statement given by the the engine-room of the same park: student of nature who wrote the official “the engines and dynamos are enam- guide: "the young men (and every man eled in white with gold mountings. a is young when there is a woman in the vernis-martin curio table holds the tools, any shock. the outing magazine and a beautiful mosaic table, the oil cups. appears behind the oil painting, and con- the white-gloved engineer, uniformed in tinues to growl out a life and history of the white duck with brass buttons, has a times of st. anthony. at such intervals vienna desk for his special use. he is a as the audience seems to become a trifle college graduate, qualified to lecture upon peevish, the panel on which the siren is his plant as well as to operate it.” depicted is removed and another one in- surely there is no "shock” or sensation serted. if the first lady was a blonde the here for the visitor so long as he does not painted lady of the second panel is sure to touch the dynamos and contents himself be a brunette, and equally ill-clad even for listening to the lectures of the "white a jersey summer resort, but it makes no gloved engineer.” indeed, for the young difference to st. anthony at all for he is fiancée who demands no greater shock painted to look the other way, and the than a gentle pressure of her lover's hand merest layman who has paid his dime is much has been done at coney island. the really in more temptation than the good sewers with their dark tunnels and stealth saint. even the darkened room and the ily moving, self-propelling skiffs may be rumblings of the gentleman back of the highly recommended. also a trip over picture fail to create much illusion, as the the glistening alps or through the canals ladies were not painted by even a bou- of dank venice surely breathes sentiment gereau, and in the flesh would have con- to those whose nostrils are constantly siderable difficulty in securing places as inflated for that modest passion. and show-girls in a musical comedy. again, for those averse to the strenuous i must confess to a great admiration and life of the “shocks” and “thrills” there a feeling of personal esteem for a success- may be found in the various parks hang- ful barker—the gentleman who by his ing japanese tea-gardens, where elderly antics and nimble wit tries to allure the geisha girls abound; a modest represen- passer-by into the particulars how he hap- tation of the last durbar; an array of pens to represent. the barkers at coney infant incubators, and a fish-pond. for island are of many kinds and have been those not satiated with a knowledge of gathered from very divergent callings. science and literature there is a good sam for instance, one gentleman in front of an ple of a flying-machine, a papier-maché alleged humorous show did nothing but try at the infernal regions with a running laugh. he happened to be a bad actor lecture on the life and deeds of dante, from a bad variety show, but his laugh who we are told (the gentleman first was loud and infectious, and as he stood having collected our dimes) was “a born on the plaza laughing violently at the poet who once lived in sunny italy.” mere thought of the entertainment within, the one entertainment, whose title per he was really not without his usefulness. haps appeals to those whose tastes lead there was also an animal actor who posed them to witness the danse du ventre, as in front of a menagerie and called the at- given on the chicago midway, is “the tention of the public to his show by emit- temptation of st. anthony." but as a ting very good imitations of the low growl matter of fact it is not at all like the mid of the king of the forest, as well as the way shows, nor in fact are any of coney's fiendish screech of the hyena, but the entertainments at present in the slightest barker i liked much the best was one i need of women's leagues or mothers' first discovered in front of “the fall of clubs. in the present instance when the pompeii.” he was a smooth-faced, sad, snickering audience has been relieved of cadaverous-looking young man who seemed its dimes and gathered in a small room, a to regard the calling of which he was so curtain is withdrawn and a large oil paint excellent an example as a terrible bore. ing disclosed. on the right we note the it seemed to make but little difference good saint praying hard, and standing what show he happened to represent, and back of him and quite beyond his vision i doubt if he had ever seen any of them. is a lady draped in a garment modest only his methods varied greatly, but most of in its limitations. the gentleman who his effects were produced with a huge has sold us our admission tickets and who paper megaphone and a pointer such as later pulled back the curtain, then dis are used in school-rooms. he would wait the renaissance of coney until a party had passed him, and would would hand me a big bill just to show then bring his pointer down with a re off i would give him short change. you sounding whack on the megaphone, and see the crowd back of him would push him cry aloud, “look, look.” the noise sound on, and he generally didn't set up his holler ed exactly like a rifle-shot and the passing till he was about twenty feet away. then party would invariably start to run and he would run for a cop that was standin' eventually turn to find the sad-faced young just opposite my window and want to man pointing at the entrance to his show. have me arrested. but the cop he was a sometimes he would run behind people partner of mine, just dressed up like, and and bark like a dog or growl like a carniv we divided the graft. sometimes the orous animal, but having once thoroughly partner would only tell the rube to shut frightened his prey he always returned to up, and sometimes he would beat him in- complete silence and the same interested sensible just as occasion required." the pose. the second time i went to coney barker gazed upward at the white lights island i found that he had left “the fall that blazed down upon him and his open of pompeii" and was selling tickets from stand and the little bunch of tickets he a high stand in front of “the canals of held in his hand. venice.” he had, however, not com "it's a little too respectable for me down pletely lost the love of his old calling, and here, i guess," he sighed. “four-thirty during an occasional lull in business would a day ain't enough for a good grafter- once more attract attention to himself and next summer it's me for the white tents the show by his unique methods. when and the red wagon; and where you can i inquired why he had left “pompeii,” the change the money under an old kerosene erstwhile barker leaned over his stand and lamp." sighed deeply. as i said before, there are a great many “there's nothin' doin' over there, and i ways to see the coney island of to-day, but tried so hard to get 'em in i lost my voice. after many visits i have concluded that i talked' fifteen hours a day in front of that show and still they wouldn't come. so they gave me a chance over here sellin' hard tickets, but the boss won't let me work any short change games, and all the graft i get is the change the men leave when they're in a hurry.” "how about the change the women leave?” i inquired. the barker grew reflective and gazed for long across the park. “i can't remember a case now of a woman ever leavin' change." "and you have been in the business a long time?" “twenty years,” he sighed. "the men left four-thirty to- day, but that isn't cigar money to me. why, i had the ticket privilege every other day with a circus last summer. the ticket-wagon was supposed to open every night at seven, but i kept it closed 'til about seven-twenty. by that time there was a howlin' crush out- side, and as soon as a rube came along with a girl and where dignity can be ignored. - watson the outing magazine there are two vantage points better than nageries and the babel of loud voices of a all the rest, and neither requires an outlay great army of merrymakers. of very much energy or expense. one is the other point of vantage is from a from a seat on a bench facing the vaude seat on the back porch of a bathing pa- ville stage in the center of the great plaza vilion at the very end of the village. it at dreamland. in front of you there are is a very dark, deserted little place at hundreds of people sitting at little round night, and in all respects most suited for tables watching the performance. from a clueless murder. on either side it is one end you can hear the laughter of the flanked by tenantless bath houses, and in brave people who are sliding down over front long, crescent-shaped tiny breakers the bumps and the thousands who are creep up the sand to one's very feet. on watching them, and from the other end a clear night one can look out on the swift come the shrieks of the merrymakers in moving yachts with their rows of electric the boats racing down the water chutes. lights, and the heavy sailing boats with and all about you there is a great surg their green and red signals, plowing their ing mass of men and women and little way to harbor. if you look to the right children. and all of them are laughing there is nothing but a deserted beach and and talking to their neighbor and guying endless black water and a darkened sky; each other, and all of them are equal. the but to the left one sees blazoned against millionaire with his wife and children has the blue sky a beautiful white city with run down on his private car, and the clerk high walls and towers and great wheels from the city who has come in a crowded revolving in the air and balls of scarlet steam boat with his best girl and the stout flame and minarets of many colors, and all party he hopes to have for a mother-in- glistening in the rays of a fierce light whiter law, and there are many young men who and clearer than the sun of noonday ever wander in little groups and are rich enough knew. this age of electricity and science to go from show to show, and there are has certainly done much to overthrow the crowds of girls from the city stores happy superstitions of our youth, but to the enough to get away for a breath of fresh air sailorman at sea or to any one who sits on and arm-in-arm to march up and down the my little bath house porch at night it broad walks of this white city of pleas would seem that this same age which has ure. and above it all there rise the shouts destroyed our illusions has created in its of the barkers and the confused music of place something which is as near fairyland many bands of all nations mingled with as we ever dreamed of in our days of tops the growls of strange animals from the me and pinafores. *s.watson the buccaneers when pierre le grand set the pace by john r. spears painting by n. c. wyeth mong the people off a headland around which spanish war- who lived on the ships passed at frequent intervals. but if island of tortuga, spanish warships frequently passed cape off the northwest tiburon, so did spanish galleons, and what a coast of santo was better, as pierre le grand and his com- domingo, in the panions knew very well, the grand “flota,” middle of the sev or plate fleet that once a year put out from enteenth century, spain and carried merchandise to puerto was a man who bello, on the isthmus of panama, would was known to his soon be due to pass the cape on its way neighbors as pierre le grand, a discon back to spain. not a ship of this fleet tented, adventurous soul. the life of a but would be well ballasted with precious planter was much too slow for him, and metals, pearls and emeralds. he determined to try bettering his for with high hopes these uncommissioned tunes by going to sea to cruise against privateers began their vigil on the sunlit the spaniards. he had no ship nor any seas, but days passed without ever a sail money with which to fit one out for such coming to greet their eyes, until their food a cruise, but he had a sword and pistols, was almost gone, and what was worse, their and what was better than money, he supply of water was as scanty as their food. had the spirit of a born leader of men. nevertheless they remained on watch until going among his friends he talked about starvation had made them desperate, and the glory and profits of such an expe then the bellying sails and the high-built dition until he persuaded twenty-eight poops and forecastles of the long-delayed of them to join him. then in some way "flota” came into view. not described in history this company as the eager watchers in the open boat secured an open boat large enough to hold gazed upon the growing fleet they saw that them all, together with food to last for a one of the larger ships was reaching slowly short cruise, and they rowed away, bound along at some distance from the others, and for the narrow waters that lie between a closer inspection showed them that this jamaica and cape tiburon, on the island ship carried the vice-admiral of the fleet. of santo domingo. it was therefore a ship that was second in it was a long voyage for a small boat, the power of its armament and the number but pierre and his crew were skillful as of its crew in all the fleet-a frigate at sailors, and the weather was fair. in due least, with cannon on poop and forecastle time they arrived off cape tiburon and as well as on her main deck. what could there lay on their oars waiting for the wind twenty-nine men in an open boat do in to bring them a prize. combat with such a ship as that? in an- few more dangerous cruising grounds swer to this question, if it was propounded for such a boat as this could have been among them, there was but one reply from reached by these adventurers, for they pierre le grand: they would try and see were within sight of the enemy's land, and what they could do. the outing magazine accordingly they continued lying idle at of their exploits. as a rule they began their oars until the sun went down and the their careers in the west indies as white moonless night spread over the sea. while slaves, or, as they were called, apprentices. they waited they formed their plans, and young men in england and other countries then, when night had fully come, they bent of europe who heard of the sudden and to their oars and drove their boat toward great prosperity that some of their acquain- the great ship. as soon as she was found tances found in the new world, and who to be within reach, the surgeon of the daring were thereby made anxious to try their crew bored holes through the bottom of own fortunes in the golden regions, but their boat that it might sink alongside, lacked the money to go, very often sold leaving them no foothold but on the en themselves to serve literally as slaves to the emy's deck, and with their feet wet by the masters who could employ them in any incoming flood, these desperadoes took way in the longed-for country. francis each a sword in one hand, a pistol in the lolonois, esquemeling, sir henry morgan other, and silently climbed over the rail of and other well-known buccaneers were the enemy. originally indentured slaves in the west there their work was swift and sure. indies. cutting down every man that stood in a common practice was for the adven- their way, a part of the band made a dash turous youth to indenture himself to the to the gun-room, and secured it with its captain of a ship bound to some port in the arms and ammunition. the others, led by new world. on arriving there the cap- pierre le grand himself, rushed into the tain would sell the apprentice to any one cabin. the captain and some of his offi- wishing to buy. some of the young men cers were found sitting at a table playing became planters, some house servants, but cards. a lookout had told the captain the work that demanded the greater num- during the afternoon that the boat seen in ber of apprentices in tortuga and some of the distance was probably manned by the other islands of the region was that of pirates, but the captain had replied: "what killing wild cattle. the masters to whom then? must i be afraid of such a pitiful these apprentices were sold were not living thing as that is?” in the west indies for their health, if we but now as the desperadoes presented may use a modern expression. they were their pistols to his breast and demanded there to get rich, and they worked these that he surrender his ship, he cried: white slaves as they also worked their “jesus bless us! are these devils, or negroes. esquemeling, who had himself what are they?" suffered from the tortures inflicted by a it was a question that many another cruel master, tells of one who, to punish a spaniard asked in those days, and the an runaway slave that had been recaptured, swer to it has been growing in interest, had him tied up to a tree and whipped till apparently, from that time to this. as the his back was raw. the wounds were then captain learned after he had surrendered covered with lemon juice, salt and pepper, his ship, these desperadoes of the sea were after which the wretched slave was left a band of a fraternity known to history hanging to the tree until the next day, when as the buccaneers. although no date is the whipping was continued until he died. given in connection with this exploit, it is another planter who is named was accused known that they were among the first to of having whipped more than a hundred gain fame and fortune by what john paul slaves and servants to death, including jones would have called “exceedingly des whites as well as negroes. perate fighting.” carrying his prize to the life of an apprentice to the cattle tortuga, pierre le grand turned his prison killers was more attractive to many of ers over to the authorities, divided the loot, these white slaves, however, than that on and then, as esquemeling says in his narra the plantations, though hard enough at tive, “he set sail for france, where he con best. the cattle killers were the original tinued without ever returning to america cowboys of america santo domingo was again.” the favorite hunting ground. the island the story of the origin of the buccaneers had been well populated in the early part is, in its way, as interesting as that of some of the sixteenth century, but the wealth as the dednice he hai bit e adve the ter er s thats to a hur th, if we neve ed that ed the punish. aptuired pped sa ele ther depoel he juum hundred ncluding le cath hanya that c n.cws ough original ngo painting by n. c. wyeth. the cattle killers were the original cowboys of america. rlu net the buccaneers of mexico and peru drew off all the more deadly accuracy. they learned also every enterprising of the population, and the kind of woodcraft and they learned to hunt plantations that had been established were men as well as animals. for when the in many cases abandoned altogether. the spaniards came searching for them they cattle on these plantations were left to retaliated and did not often wait for the roam at will, and, finding the savannahs spaniard to begin the hunting. in fact, if and forests habitable, they increased rap cattle were scarce in any part where the idly. in the meantime a demand for dried buccaneers landed for a hunt they would meat was found among the plantations of go to the nearest plantation and, unless it other islands, and especially in the towns. were well defended, rob it of its cattle. to meet this demand the wilder spirits of by natural process the buccaneers the regions began hunting the cattle and learned to stand together in time of dan- drying the flesh, which was called boucan. ger, and at all other times, so far as the as the makers of boucan they soon became spaniards were concerned. even where known as boucaniers, a title that has been race prejudices would have kept apart the changed in modern times to buccaneers. french and the english the common hatred in the beginning these meat hunters of the spaniards bound them together. lived much as did the frontier hunters and there were englishmen, frenchmen and trappers of the united states. building dutchmen in every notable expedition of small thatched huts on the banks of streams the buccaneers, and in some of them the that were navigable for their canoes, they yankees of new england had a part, wandered around the woods killing the though there is but little said of them in cattle, drying the meat and preparing the the records because they were then counted skins for market. one needed all the as englishmen. qualities of a daniel boone and the wet living a woods or savage life, the buc- zels combined to succeed in this business. caneers showed traits that in some particu- the cattle were as dangerous as any wild lars made them appear below the ordinary animals that roamed the american forests. red man of america. in their love of a the puma and the still more dangerous gaudy color, for instance, they were in the tigre were as numerous as deer in the more habit of making their shirts red by dipping northern forests. the most venomous them in the blood of the animals killed. serpents of the world thronged the region, human life was held cheap. men were and vicious alligators were ever ready, it killed through pure love of slaughter. appears, to make a meal of any unfortunate worse yet, many of the buccaneers were woodsman who came within reach. the ferocious and cruel to a degree unsurpassed dread which these men had for the alligator by any savages in the world. inspired by was greater than that inspired by any other race prejudice as well as by their innate danger. dampier says that when an irish- cruelty, the buccaneers found pleasure in man of his party, while wading in a swamp, torturing a spaniard. and in their ordi- was seized by an alligator and began to nary pleasures they were as wild as they call for help, the others of the party fled in were in their work. stead of going to his aid. it was a fear on the other hand, they had many ad- some danger that would make a buccaneer mirable characteristics. their courage was desert a comrade. but when we read in superb. in their ability to live the wild the account by esquemeling that alligators life of the forest, and to endure hardships, seventy feet long and twelve feet broad they were unsurpassed. their skill with were seen, the statement may be called an weapons and in the handling of ships was exaggeration, though no doubt some alli- perhaps unequaled. some, indeed, were gators did seem as large as that in the eyes able to build a ship, navigate her around of the buccaneers. the world, and handle her in any kind of and in addition to the dangers of the fight known to the day. they could also wild was the ever-lurking spanish coast make their own weapons. some were men guard, eager to catch a wandering boucan of education and could write, so that their maker and carry him off to the torture. work has not been ignored or forgotten. the buccaneers in their cattle hunting “as they had no domestic ties, neither learned first of all to aim their guns with wife nor child nor sister nor brother, the the outing magazine want of family relations was supplied by a diet of meat-pork and beef, as a general strict comradeship, one partner attending thing—with a little flour or corn meal and to household duties,” while the other fol a few peas, and they washed down this lowed the chase. when one died the simple fare, whenever possible, with quan- partner inherited his property, which was tities of rum-punch large enough, one might held in common. their grand principle suppose, to ruin utterly every hope of con- was fidelity, and “the maxim of honor tinued health. says dampier, in describ- among thieves was never more scrupulously ing the visit of a new england trader to observed than among them.” the camp of some logwood cutters on the but the fraternity of feeling among the campeche coast: boucan makers did not prevent them from "mr. hooker, being drank to by captain owning slaves. it was a common practice rawlins, who pledged captain hudswell, for them to buy the apprentices that were and having the bowl in his hands, said he brought out from the old country to be was under an oath to drink but three sold for periods of from three to seven draughts of strong liquor in one day, and years, and the apprentices under the best putting the bowl to his head, turned it off circumstances were worked like very at one draught, and so making himself slaves. for not only were they obliged to drunk, disappointed our expectations till help in the work of hunting and dressing we made another bowl. i think it might the cattle, but they were also obliged to contain six quarts.” carry the product of the chase to camp, and the rum-punch of the day was a con- when vessels were lying off the coast, to coction of pure rum flavored with the gather the dried meat and skins for market juices of limes, pineapples, oranges and and transport the stuff from the camp to bananas, with a little sugar added; it was the ship. uncontaminated with water. another guild from which the ranks of no citizen of the americas ever lived a the buccaneers were recruited was that of more strenuous life than the boucan makers the logwood cutters. logwood sold in and logwood cutters from whom the buc- those days for fifteen pounds sterling per caneers were recruited, but it was a life that ton, and the trees grew in abundance in the palled on the most industrious at times. moist ground along many of the streams inspired in part by the migrating instinct, of the spanish main, and on some of the and if the truth be told, by a love of good islands, especially in the campeche region. fighting, these men of the forest laid aside william dampier, one of the most noted their axes, saws and wedges, and cleaned of the buccaneers, because he took notes of their guns; molded a plentiful supply of his adventures and finally published them, bullets; sharpened the swords with which was one of the logwood cutters. they commonly hewed their way through the logwood cutters lived like cattle the tropical thickets; put an edge, too, hunters—in huts built on the banks of upon such knives as they ordinarily used streams that were navigable for canoes. in dressing cattle, and then, grinning and in fact, some of them were logwood cutters chuckling in anticipation of sport to come, one day and boucan makers the next. the went hunting spaniards. as already in- logwood cutters hunted to supply them timated, these hunting parties included at selves with food, if for no other purpose. first the near-by isolated plantations where apparently, the loggers had harder work hogs and cattle were to be found in greater to do than the hunters; it was a task that numbers than in the forests. of course, tried the endurance of the strongest to fell the houses were looted as well as the ranges, trees in that climate, particularly in the and in these houses they found, now and swamps where the logwood grew. that then, silver pieces-of-eight (eight realles, the buccaneers did work and thrive in those equal to one dollar) and gold onzas or swamps is an undisputed fact worth con doubloons. now and then they found sideration among those who suppose that jewelry and silks and laces which, though the tropical forest is by nature unhealthy, of no use to men who wore shirts made red or that it is impossible for white men to with the blood of animals, were yet highly labor in the swamps found in the torrid prized by the young women who lived in zone. the buccaneers subsisted chiefly on the west india ports that were frequently the buccaneers - favored by the presence of these woodsmen. borrow for the payment of my debts as they bestowed their loot upon the young much money as i could from the spaniards. women with a lavish hand, and thus gained now this sort of borrowings have this ad- reputations as “sporting" men that have vantage attending them, that there is no never since been surpassed, and probably obligation of repayment, they being es- never equaled, unless, indeed, jean lafitte teemed the product of a just war, and seeing and his comrades of barataria may have the place of action is beyond the line, there stood as high. is no talk there of making any restitution." most writers who have made a special the need of money was his incentive; study of the buccaneers lay much stress a “just war” was his excuse. and the upon the spanish exclusiveness in commer- necessity for an excuse became apparent cial matters, and especially upon their re only after he had returned to paris and fusal to permit other nations to trade in was writing an account of his adventures their west india colonies, as the cause of for publication. the buccaneer raids. but other nations there were exceptions to those who were were exclusive also. the dutch, for in- simply looking for a fortune. mansvelt, stance, cut down pepper trees in islands in a dim way most dim — had an idea that they could not occupy, in order to pre of an american republic, while montbar serve their monopoly of that popular prod- and lolonois were animated by a love of uct, and yet no buccaneers raided the slaughter now incomprehensible. but the dutch. the truth is that spanish exclu- exceptions were few in number. the many siveness was the excuse for, instead of the thought first of the joys of a spree in port cause of, the buccaneer raids; the cause royal, jamaica, and went raiding to get being found chiefly in the eager love of a the means for it. wild life that prevailed among the woods as already noted the west indies of that men of the west indies. there were, in time might well be called the frontier of deed, noted exceptions. pierre le grand, europe, and they were peopled by men when he had made a fortune, went home who had crossed the sea in search of fortune to france to enjoy it. morgan, with the -men who were so eager for fortune that proceeds of his raid on panama, became a they were willing to begin life as slaves to knight of the british realm and governor most cruel masters. in their experience of jamaica. dampier tells how ill luck first as slaves, and then as meat hunters drove him into the ranks of the buccaneers, and logwood cutters, they learned the arts and the sieur ravenau de lussan, in telling of woods life, which included the arts of why he joined them, says: alongshore navigation. and out of the “i had borrowed money in the meantime, privations and hardships of the woods life and thought it the part of an honest man grew a lust for the pleasures of which they to repay it. my parents would have been were deprived that was not to be controlled. very willing, perhaps, to have paid my among these men of wolfish instincts- debts, but they could hear nothing from wolfish in more ways than one, if you know me nor i from them. i bethought the wolf - came the story of pierre le myself of making one of the freebooters' grand, with results that were literally the gang, to go a voyage with them, and to wonder of the world. . so the builders vi.—where ranch and city meet by ralph d. paine photographs by the author n owhere can old and new amer was one item in a recent “boosters' club" ican conditions be found, side by campaign in spokane, and it is mentioned side, in more picturesquely im here to illustrate the spirit which is com- pressive contrast than in that sunny corner mon to these coast cities. of the pacific coast which is dominated los angeles is unique because it has be- by the spirit of los angeles. the city come a city of two hundred thousand souls itself is display of almost cyclonic enter with a cheerful disregard of "the laws of prise, prosperity, and expansion which have growth which are presumed to have a hand safely weathered the perilous enthusiasms in upbuilding important commercial and of the "boomer" and the “booster." distributing centers. its back country is a foreign observer seeking the typical still undeveloped, its shipping is in its in- american spirit working at high pressure fancy, and its manufactures are as yet a could do no better than to sit and “watch minor factor. three things have made it los angeles grow.” this sounds a trifle the prodigy among american cities-cli- like a real estate advertisement, but it is mate, trolley lines, advertising. at first meant only as a passing tribute to a city glimpse, this does not look like a stable which has outstripped every other amer- foundation, yet los angeles continues to ican city through the last decade, in the grow and to turn the laugh on the prophets rate of its increase in building operations, who have wailed that such expansion was property values, and population. top-heavy by the very nature of things. our observer would not have to dig out now this city of massive hotels and the facts and figures. they would be business blocks and beautiful homes, with hurled at him by every other son of this an interurban electric railway system which magical city, and with an air of pride which makes eastern enterprise seem crude and makes your thorough-going western man primitive, has risen from a half-mexican distinctive. he boils over with loyalty pueblo of ten thousand people in less than and belief in the ultimate destiny of his a generation. figures are bald and un- particular town from his boot-heels up, and romantic, but let us deal with a few and whether it be spokane or portland or los have done with them. los angeles has angeles, he feels that his individual fortune more automobiles and telephones per head is vitally bound up in the future of his than any other american city; it led them community. all in increase of postal receipts last year; can you imagine a committee of citizens its assessed values are nearing the two of an eastern town setting in operation a hundred million dollar mark, and it has plan whereby all the boys and girls in the begun work on a water supply system which public schools pledge themselves that when will cost twenty-one million dollars, and ever they write a letter to friends or rela which will convey the mountain streams tives “back east,” they will include men of the sierras a distance of more than two tion of the charms of climate, and the hundred miles. allurements of material prosperity to be so much by way of showing that the era found in their community and state? this of frenzied speculation is past, and with it a mexican sheep-herder of santa anita ranch, a pastoral corner of the ancient ranch. the builders the days of the real estate auction circuses outskirts. within five years it is likely with brass bands and side shows, which ran that this ranch will be dotted with the red- amuck some twenty years ago. it is true roofed cottages of the eastern pilgrim, and that to-day the real estate market strikes checkered with “boulevards” and “ave- a conservative easterner as fairly acro- nues.” batic. you cannot heave a brick anywhere it is still a feudal community unto itself, within twenty miles of the city that will this princely realm of sixty thousand acres. not light on an attractive speculation in but it must go because these sixty thousand town lots. the electric roads, four hun acres are worth ten million dollars as city dred miles of them radiating from los and suburban "real estate," a very pretty angeles, and five hundred miles more rise in values since “lucky” baldwin building along this corner of the coast, are picked up these spanish grants for a song bringing the whole country-side within as farming land some forty years ago. touch of the city, and as a direct result there for more than a century these lands have are such rapid increases in values as make been cultivated in a glorious sweep of one's head swim until he becomes acclima- vineyards, and orange and olive orchards, ted. on these roads, which are built and rich sheep and cattle pastures, and horse ballasted like steam lines, trains of electric ranches, their life and customs handed cars whizz and whirr at speeds of thirty and down from the spanish owners of the forty miles an hour, thereby sweeping all various rancheros which were swept into the land within fifteen miles of los angeles, one estate by the pioneer, "lucky" bald- for example, into the market for suburban win. property. the very names of the tracts which were this tide of excessively up-to-date amers grouped under the name of santa anita ican expansion has swept before it the old ranch sound mellow and reminiscent to life and atmosphere of the surviving span- the ear: la puenta, portrero de felipe ish and mexican settlements. the prosaic logo, portrero grande, la merced, san saxon first curtailed the beautiful name of francisquito, da cienega, and portrero his town, pueblo de la reina de los angeles chice, all in the heart of the beautiful san (town of the queen of the angels), and gabriel valley. later obliterated the native himself. there with these ranches came one of the old- is a straggling mexican quarter of the est vineyards and wineries of southern modern los angeles, and in the outskirts california, founded by the spanish padres you may find the 'dobe house and the mud from the san gabriel mission. and the hovel thatched with straw where dwell the low, white-walled adobe home in which descendants of the race which won this the aged "lucky" baldwin lives to-day, wondrous territory for the red and yellow was built as a fort and outpost by these banner of castile. these are no same spanish friars when these lands were than melancholy and unimportant relics being wrested from the wilderness. the of a vastly romantic and picturesque era links which lead from the modern los an- which has passed away within the memory geles back to the spanish era are therefore of living men. unbroken. there still survives an opportunity, how the santa anita ranch, through which ever, to find, in its last days, a magnificent darts the electric car filled with tourists survival of the life and background and from the east, was tenanted when the tall conditions which immediately preceded the galleons were bringing from spain the amazing modernity of los angeles and of priests and soldiers to govern this new land the lamented san francisco. one of the of theirs; when the little pueblo of los last of the ancient and lordly estates of angeles was gay with caballeros who bade southern california lies at the very edge farewell to black-eyed girls before they set of los angeles, the santa anita ranch of out for the unknown north; when, at “lucky” baldwin. its doom is so immi length, the sante fé trail crept overland nent that the process of destruction has even to reach the pacific shore and brought the begun. the electric road has gashed a vanguard of the hardy american invasion path through its groves and orchards, and which as to sweep over the spanish speak- the real estate speculator is nibbling at its ing race like a landslide. more "lucky" baldwin driving over his estate. the tourist and homeseeker, the real outside world, and the people of the estate estate agent and the manufacturer, the were as comfortable and possibly as happy trolley and the electric light denote the as they are to-day. march of civilization, but something most the lord of this ranch can drive eighteen attractive and in a way very precious will miles in a straight line across his own acres. vanish when los angeles absorbs into its in such a tour he will pass his own general feverish activity this fine old santa anita merchandise store, maintained for the con- ranch. venience of his own people, the school sup- even in these, its last days, it seems to ported for their children, the blacksmith stand remote and aloof with a certain shop, the church and the postoffice, all be- strength of dignity and independence. it longing to the equipment of the estate. he does not belong with that complex and in will pass through his vast orange and fig terwoven civilization in which a man must and olive orchards, his walnut groves and depend upon other men to produce all that his vineyards where the mission grape is he eats and wears and uses. it is op- gathered from the gnarled vines planted by posed to all that makes the life and com the padres. there are also one hundred merce of a city. acres of lemons, one hundred acres of grape- such an estate, if put to it, could to fruit, two thousand acres of vegetables, and day maintain its population of perhaps a twenty thousand acres of corn, hay and thousand men, women and children with small grains. his thirty thousand sheep out commerce with the world beyond. graze on the brown hillsides, and he could cut the railroads, and los angeles must clothe his people with their wool, if he face starvation in three or four days. it wished. his wheat ranch could feed them, consumes and devours with titanic appe his three thousand head of cattle could tite, but it does not produce. provide beef and leather. in other fields out at santa anita, however, its busy are five hundred work mules and five community could be clothed and fed in hundred draught and carriage horses. comfort and even luxury, without help these sixty thousand acres are divided from a railroad. even during “lucky” into several ranches, each in charge of a baldwin's proprietorship, the twelve-mule superintendent who in turn reports to a freight teams, with jingling bells on the general manager who is responsible to the collars, trailed to an from los angeles, it is a paternal, feudal system, as the only link of communication with the highly specialized by means of the amer- owner. the builders ican talent for systematic administration unfurled the stars and stripes in los and organization. angeles in . while the stout adobe toiling in the flooding sunshine of these walls of the home on santa anita ranch smiling fields and slopes are japanese and preserve the legends of a century and more mexicans and negroes and chinese and ago, the aged man who dwells therein is a americans, almost a thousand of them, relic and a reminder of an era even more scattered over many miles of country. vivid and picturesque. "lucky” baldwin, tucked away in the corners of little valleys belongs with the flamboyant days of the under the spreading oaks, you will find the forty-niners, with the age when life on the villages of this motley population. in the pacific coast was a melodrama of great mexican colony of thatched and flimsy fortunes won and flung away with lavish huts, little brown children run about with hand and high heart, the era of the argo- no more clothing than would dust a gun nauts, the builders, and the gamblers with barrel. in sheep-shearing time, the popu- life and gold. lation is enlivened by the coming of the in , or more than a half century ago, band of half-breeds and indians and a little party of gold-seekers with a mea- “greasers,” who make festival with the ger outfit of horses and wagons, started residents when the work is done. wander for california from the village of racine, ing about one of the odd corners of the wisconsin. in command of this adven- ranch, watching the quiet and ancient turous expedition was a young man who habit of tilling and garnering the abundant took with him his wife and infant daughter. fruits of the earth and the pasture, the his name was e. j. baldwin and he made twentieth century bustle of los angeles a wise choice in shaking from his rest- becomes a thing remote and incongruous. less feet the dust of a tamer civilization. while this estate mirrors so largely the he needed a larger theater of action for life of the spanish grants of the early his pent-up and surging activities. while settlement of the pacific coast, its latest trailing through the mountains of utah owner in himself supplies a chapter which the pioneers were attacked by indians, covers the last half century almost, from who were beaten off during a six-hour fight the time when fremont, the pathfinder, in which young baldwin killed their chief. the home of "lucky" baldwin, the walls of which were a spanish fort. thoroughbreds in their pasture by the sierra madre mountains. ready for the early morning gallops. the outing magazine after six months of hardship, the party scribed with the words “the home of reached hangtown (later called placer grimsted.” the grave and park are tend- ville) in california. ed with scrupulous care, and betoken a here baldwin tarried and began placer strain of sentiment in this rough-and- mining. he appears to have been no more tumble hero of a hundred bizarre adven- than an ordinary red-shirted argonaut, tures and hazards, “lucky” baldwin. meeting the ups and downs of mining luck, more than once it has been reported that until the discovery of the comstock lode this westerner's fortune had been swept at virginia city. thither he drifted, and away in speculation, or plunging on the discovered that his natural bent was turf, or in extravagant whimsicalities, yet gambling with the mines that other men through it all he clung to his beloved santa had opened. amid a whirlwind of specu anita. the ranch was heavily mortgaged lation, he fought his way with such success to help him weather one heavy storm, yet that he loomed from the smoke in a few the value of this land has risen with such months as “lucky” baldwin, the man amazing swiftness because of its nearness who had cleaned up seven and a half to los angeles, that in the end he has a million dollars in the gigantic deals in the splendid fortune in the estate, which can stock of the ophir mines. be sold for more than fifteen hundred dollars san francisco was the mecca of those an acre, as fast as he is willing to let it be lucky sons of fortune who were rearing a chopped up by the city broker. great city by the golden gate. as a stock in his old age “lucky” baldwin retired and mining speculator, "lucky" baldwin to his ranch, there to spend the little time shone resplendent, but he was also a loyal of his life that might be left for him. son of san francisco. he built hotels and when i met him there last year, he was theaters and business blocks, even while still alert in mind, and vigorous of frame, he was amazing that far from conserva a wiry, sharp-visaged little man past his tive community by madly freakish extrava eightieth year, who had endured enough of gances. reckless living and bruising shocks of for- in a very lucid interval he bought all the tune to kill ordinary men in their prime. spanish grants he could find near los three mornings each week he arose at day- angeles, and there spent a million in mak- light and drove to his racing stables to see ing this ranch of his not only a splendidly his string of thoroughbreds in their morn- productive property, but also one of the ing gallops around a half-mile track. they most beautiful estates ever laid out in this were being prepared for their campaigns or any other country. it was his hobby, on far-away tracks, but he would never his pet, and he planted miles of avenues more see them break and wheel in the start, with noble shade trees, and made wonder and thunder past the finish post. his ful tropical gardens, so that to-day his home sight was fast failing, but he knew and is surrounded by a paradise of vernal loved his horses, as they filed by him, one beauty. by one. “lucky” baldwin became interested in thus after as stormy and colorful a the turf while he was in the heyday of his career as befell any of these bold jugglers wealth, health and headlong vigor. he with titanic fortune in the days of gold, he made santa anita ranch famous as a home found a placid refuge on this noble ranch, of winning thoroughbreds, and his racing the creation of which had been the work of colors flashed on every noted track. the his youth. with all his faults, and they racing stable is still a part of the ranch, and have been many and notorious, he was one in the lush pastures wander costly bands of of the builders of that empire of the colts and brood mares, while in the stables pacific; and when san francisco was over- are such sires and famous winners of his whelmed by earthquake and fire, the de- toric events as emperor of norfolk, and struction included no small share of rey el santa anita, and cruzadas. the “lucky” baldwin's creative effort in the mighty sire, grimsted, who produced more upbuilding of that noble city. stake-winners than any other horse in this ranch of his is a monument also to america, is buried in a park-like enclosure, his constructive genius. its successful over the gateway of which is an arch in operation has been a task demanding un- along an avenue of stately poplars planted by ''lucky" baldwin. japanese gathering grapes in a vineyard planted by the spanish fathers. the builders usual talent and ability, and these qualities my foolishness in slinging fortunes around. of his have preserved it intact with its im there's a set of harness out there in the posing array of belated industries and ac stable that cost me eight thousand dollars, tivities in an age in whose social economy and i've had a run for my money, but i it can find no place. just as he is a relic helped make san francisco a stronger, of another age in the expansion of this bigger city, and that counts for something. nation, so his ranch harks farther back into and i've made a beautiful spot of this a more remote era and affords a vanishing ranch, and i've held it together, and i don't glimpse of the life which was before the expect to live to see it cut up entirely. stars and stripes were flown over this vast it's my home, and it means a damn sight territory to the west of the rockies, and more to me because i made it, sixty thou- south of the area first explored and claimed sand acres, and every acre working for me. by the hudson bay company's pioneers his mood veered and his faded eye who invaded the pacific slope from the twinkled as he observed : north. "jim jeffries was down here to see me not far from santa anita ranch is the the other day, and he told me he made old mission of san gabriel, whose life was twenty thousand dollars in a fight. i told co-existent with that of these spanish him that i won five million dollars in one grants and ranchers. the gray bell-tower, fight when i was in my prime, and that i the massive adobe walls, and the quiet guessed it paid better than pugilism while gardens where once walked the black-robed it lasted.” padres, and where their indian converts “lucky” baldwin, a type of the days of toiled, have been preserved to lend a little the young and riotous california, is too old touch of old-world atmosphere to the land to meet and conquer the new conditions scape of to-day. they will be kept as which have shoved his ranch and himself memorials, but the broad fields and or far into the background of progress. as chards, the pastures and the groves of los angeles pictures the expanding amer- santa anita are being submerged in the icanism of this century, so h. e. hunting- roaring tide of american progress in ma ton, the man who has led in its promotion, terial wealth and faith in the future. is a type of the american builder of to-day; "lucky” baldwin sat on the wide and as he has driven his electric roads porch of his adobe mansion, whose walls through the heart of santa anita ranch, so were a spanish fort a hundred and fifty he is everywhere in his part of the country years ago. on every side stretched the infusing old conditions with the new spirit smiling fertility of his principality, watered of progress. by gushing streams fiom artesian wells,' a there has been nothing of the bizarre or water system as extensive as that of many spectacular about his programme of expan- cities. in the background marched the sion. a trained railway man, schooled brown ramparts of the sierra madre moun by his uncle, c. p. huntington, he has tains, and even on those heights one could swung his energy away from the steam discern a ribbon-like trail cut for the sight road, to become the foremost promoter of seeing tourist. the old man indulged in the electric trolley as a means of developing no poetic reverie over the passing of the and exploiting natural resources. he has old order of things. his mind dwelt on made all the towns of southern california what he had done toward making the near neighbors of los angeles, and this luilding of california and san francisco. task has been accomplished in less than ten thus in his last days this battered survivor years. first came the purchase of existing of the blazing days of gilded toil and folly lines, then consolidation and reorganiza- by the golden gate wished to be remem tion, and after that rebuilding and new bered for what he had done for the land he construction, until within the city limits of loved, and in this he showed the spirit of los angeles alone there are two hundred your true californian. miles of trolley tracks. now you can whirl “if you will look in bancroft's chronicles out into the country over standard gauge, of the builders,'” he said, “you will find all double-track lines operated by automatic you want to know about me. don't take signal systems, at express speed. any stock in all the stories you hear about the real estate “boom” of los angeles -- - in the mexican quarter of santa anita ranch. - the builders ease cannot be fairly weighed without a knowl and flies into the country in almost any edge of this wonderful transportation de direction, to seashore, mountain, tropical velopment. h. e. huntington has made city and resort, covering a hundred miles fortunes for others, while at the same time of landscape in a day, while the pacific he has reaped great wealth for himself. breezes blow through him, and he speeds he had bought up great tracts of unim over a dustless roadbed. he can visit one proved land within a few miles of los or more of fifty attractive places every day angeles, and then put an electric road and return to the city for dinner. through the tree property thus acquired. when time hangs heavy on his hands he of course the coming of the railroad has can find abundant entertainment in trying increased the realty values by hundreds to figure out the why and wherefore of los per cent. and mr. huntington, having angeles, and he must come back in the bought on a certainty, has not suffered by final issue to the three factors of climate, this method of operation. trolleys and advertising. as cosmopolitan at the same time it should be remem a city as there is in america, made up of bered, even though it be the fashion to pilgrims from every state of east and sling bricks at the railway magnate on west, these two hundred thousand men, general principles as an oppressor and a women and children are fused in the smelt- robber, that for every million h. e. hunt- ing pot of local pride and enthusiasm until ington has reaped from his transactions, they are sure in their hearts that there is the community has benefited tenfold in no place on god's green footstool worthy increased property valuations and to be compared with los angeles, and that of communication. even though its present prosperity is fairly it is a magical sort of an operation, this staggering, its future holds possibilities development of the los angeles country. even more awe-inspiring. it is, in a way, a small rancher is struggling to make both like an air-plant, taking its sustenance from ends meet, away off in what appears to be the climate and not from the soil, and an isolated corner of the landscape. he there is no danger of bankrupting this chief lives perhaps several miles from his nearest asset. neighbor, and it is an all-day haul to get to the commercial bodies of this lusty the nearest market. along come the sur young metropolis have spent three hundred veyors, and then the construction gangs, and fifty thousand dollars within ten years and presto! the electric road has linked in directly advertising its attractions. this ranch with los angeles by no more they have reaped big dividends, and to- than half or three quarters of an hour in day their city is the best-known pleasure time. the little poverty-stricken ranch ‘and health resort in the world. san fran- has become suburban property overnight, cisco had a large share of this common and our son of the soil is in affluence and western spirit, and neither fire nor earth- thinks “the arabian nights” tame read- quake can cripple it. the city which will ing. the chances are even that he blos rise on the ruins of the old san francisco soms out as a real estate agent and invades will be more like los angeles, essentially los angeles with a bundle of blue-print modern in every way, and proud of its maps under his arm. modernity. the storied days of the forty- as a result of this prodigious railway niner have been obliterated in san fran- development, the fifty thousand visitors cisco, the memories of the argonauts have who frequent los angeles most of the time been destroyed, but their spirit lives and no sooner land in the city than they plan shines. to get out of it. the hotels are built like los angeles is sweeping away the last business blocks, essentially metropolitan traces of the old era, and faces the fu- of aspect. this disappoints the stranger ture, not the past. we may sigh for the who expects to find palm trees and gardens passing of santa anita ranch, but where under his hotel window. he soon dis- thirty thousand sheep and cattle graze, covers, however, that the hotel is for eating as many americans will be dwelling in and sleeping, nothing more. he streams their own homes witnin the life of this with the multitude into the big street cars, generation. the toy-shop by edwina stanton babcock illustrated by ernest haskell i" t is built on a magnificent plan; a veri mystery and admiration of all who behold table palace with colonnade, court and it. people are constantly testing its capac- hall. vast aisles stretch through it, ities; constantly asking what is meant by crossing and recrossing one another and the movements of certain lamps which stir opening into rotunda, theater and balcony. in slow circles around its opaque bounds, the display windows are broad and roomy, and conjecturing as to the electrical system there is plenty of space between depart which controls these golden lamps amid a ments-indeed, so much room to turn myriad triangular sparkles of illumination. around in that all the world and his wife against the background of this wonder- might come shopping for toys and the toy ful ceiling the fire-toys, rockets, wheels shop would not be crowded. and colored lights are shown. here also besides possessing these peculiarities the are suspended on differing gases aerial toy-shop stands for certain architectural mechanical toys. mammoth balloons hang feats that are triumphant in having been in the center of the dome. spectral the marvel and awe of art and science for cities of ever-changing contours loom up generations. not only is its general plan softly, and huge animals, woolly white and of erection unique and developed in an ab airily cumbrous, are blown into shape and solutely original way; not only does it com floated, till, looking up into the great hol- bine the most daring engineering with the low of the dome, one may see representa- broadest principles of building mechanics, tions of jerusalem and babylon in their but it is superior to other important struc palmy days, moses in a shower of fragments tures in an efflorescence, an embellishment of manna, or a whole noah's ark of masto- of portico, and peristyle, where, through dons turning out to graze. the connected design of symbol and talis there are people in the world so busy, so man, runs a subtle suggestion of hidden tied and bound down by work and respon- meanings, meanings which may not be too sibility that they never get time to go to easily deciphered, or too hastily explained. the toy-shop; there are some few, who, if it is in the ceiling of the toy-shop that they have dropped in for a moment have its individual characteristics are best ex found so much going on, so great a con- ploited. how that wonderful dome with fusion of playthings, that it dazzled and the transcendant properties of light and bewildered them, and they returned to acoustics was ever gotten into place and their affairs unsatisfied. for these and all held plumb by invisible supports is the others who have had little or no opportu- the toy-shop nity to cratify their curi- osity the following notice is written. perhaps, after reading it, some one will remember that he knew the toy-shop when he was very young indeed, and will start out directly to see if he can find it again: . . "the toy-shop is on the road to wherever you are going. you can't miss it. it is always open. it is always free. all you have to do is to look for the toy you want. if you don't see it, ask the dame.” . . . the dame is the one who takes care of the toy-shop. she has done so as far back as any one can remember, and there are few who have not been struck by her curious ways and the ex- treme eccentricity of her dress and deportment. old as the hills, mother to the mountains and grand- mother of the oceans, she is still imbued with all the virginities and delicate fires of never-dying youth. she is as firm as a rock in some of her characteristics, and as wavering as a moon- beam in others. some people know her only as relentless and stern, others see in her naught but the pranks and wiles of a gay young witch on a holiday. all sorts of stories are told of her, chiefest of these be- ing the accounts of her life as nurse and mother, and the wonders of her healing and restoring to life. hundreds who have slept on her knees, and been fed and caressed by her testify to these quali- ties, and even those whom she has sorely punished go crying back to her for balm and herbs of forget- fulness or for a new toy like the broken one they weep over. the dame is scrupu- lously careful of her trust. no light in the shop goes out but she relights it, no fragile toy is broken but she replaces it, and throughout the establish- ment her patience and watchfulness make new and restore where aught has been carelessly handled or defaced. of course, in a toy-shop as complete as this it is necessary to show all the latest inventions, the last insane challenge in flying machines, the newest dar- ing in speedy engines, and one would naturally look for these more elaborate and expensive articles in the conspicuous places. here, however, the dame shows a very great wisdom of method. hers is the experience that has learned that the simplest amuse- ments are forever the best loved, and though she oc- casionally sets going some glittering geyser of a water-toy or puts off one of the louder explosives, or inflates a herd of woolly beasts and starts them fighting and bellowing overhead; she is niggardly with all such contrivances, knowing that they gener- ally create a great disorder with little pleasure or profit for anybody. she prefers, rather, to keep to the front all the smaller and safer a musements, those articles which by their appearance suggest their uses, and which are easily duplicated. hence, on the first counter we find samples of white pebbles of enticing weight and the faces in the clouds. shape, and good for a variety of ammuni displayed are fitted out with jumping frogs, tions, sports and contests. next-should polliwogs, and other clever mechanical toys. one pine to play the venerable game of they are also furnished with the strange “grocery store"—is a vast collection of scums and jellies which make such ponds stones that may be pounded into powders irresistible to the average small boy. in of varying hue, resembling sugar and cinna one department are tall stands full of fasci- mon and other delectable sweets and spices. nating little balls colored green and brown next to that is a show case full of assort and hanging by strings. from other tall ments of shells of differing colors and pat stands depend delightful green pods that terns-such a stock as never runs out-and explode "pop!” like fairy torpedoes if you near by a sign reading “this way to white touch them ever so delicately. and the sand and all kinds of material for mud-pies," tallest stands of all bear russet missiles directs to a universally beloved plaything. ready for the slings of adventurous davids against imaginary goliaths. here are dozens of pretty little brooks for girls who love to play “house” here colored green, brown and tawny yellow. are strange toys called “hollyhocks,” these are carefully packed away between which to the initiated furnish countless layers of soft grass which prevents their pats of butter and cottage cheeses besides leaking. small circular ponds attractively supplying gay silken petticoats for fashion- - the toy-shop able flower doils. here are also acorn cups of goods is lost or shifted. but in spite of and saucers for dainty tables. here are occasional interior disarrangement the toy- mushroom tents lighted with fire-flies for shop-good old happy institution-is al- the evening performance of the cricket ways open for one to poke around in, steal- orchestra. here are milkweed pods, this- ing into this and that alcove, wandering tle-down and pine-needles for pompons through the departments, choosing out and other millinery, not to mention the some coveted thing to take away. scarlet dogwood berries that may be strung do you see that group of little girls com- like corals into necklaces and bracelets for ing slowly up the garden path? their lips the wee lady of the house. are stained with blackberries, they are gin- scattered in different departments of the gerly carrying baskets made of burdock shop are certain toys of a symbolic char burrs. they are wearing crowns and acter. dutchman's breeches, jack-in-the- sashes made of broad leaves pinned to- pulpit, yellow lion's mouth and lady- gether with bits of twig. they are coming slipper suggest things human; they hint from the toy-shop. did you meet the also at some mysterious social fabric of the white-haired gentleman whose fine eyes woods, where perhaps little indian pipes glowed as he showed you the single cardinal are smoked, little flower martyrs are gob- flower flaming against his withered hand? bled up for their little principles, and little he had been to the toy-shop. you re- green clergymen preach soberly all the member passing that young fellow who was summer, and then with the maturity of the walking out with his sweetheart. the autumn turn to scarlet clowns grimacing young fellow wore a four-leaf clover in his among the dead fern. button-hole, the girl held a bunch of fringed should one long for artificial curls, the gentians. they were followed at a dis- toy-shop supplies numberless dandelion tance by a band of hooting, frolicking stalks to be pushed into ringlets with the urchins who bore birchen wands, and tip of one's delicately embittered tongue. carried stores of slippery elm and sassafras there are also shavings should one desire root inside their small shirts, cherishing hirsute adornment of a greater luxuriance meanwhile an old rusty can with a frog's and profusion. in a certain corner are egg in it. what does all this mean? bar- innocent looking green leaves that, dipped gain day at the toy-shop! in the alchemy of any brook, turn to glitter- ing silver under the wave, but emerge again advertisement perfectly dry green leaves, which proves them to be trick toys and sure to entertain. will the restless people with their hun- near these is the notion counter with its dred different ways of running the world assortment of four-leaf clovers, chrysalids, and of being tired of it, please drop every- scarlet and purple beans; okras supplied thing some day and run away to the toy- with the little gray bullets so terrible in shop? the toy-shop endeavors to please indian skirmishes, and a whole galaxy of all ages. you may find exactly what you pods, popples and puff-balls—who shall are looking for. at least you are certain describe them! it is impossible to ascer to find a hollow stick through which you tain the exact number and variety of wares may blow a bright stream of water. you the old dame displays. equally impossi may run across some hazel nuts or a round ble to guess why some of them are in musty, “lucky stone" to slip in your pocket, or a unfrequented parts of the toy-shop, others little orphan brook that needs a guardian, in the nearest nook to which all may pene or an old tree that would like to adopt a trate. it is also impossible to play in one grandchild. go gently up to the dame, lifetime with all the toys, to handle and see look in her eyes and tell her what you want. them all. sometimes certain of the de "i have no money," you will probably say partments are closed; sometimes the stock dolefully, but she will smile and answer with runs low; sometimes a whole consignment tenderness, “you may have it for love." bar range yarns vi.-holding the claim by clarence edward mulford painting by frank e. schoonover were h, we're that gang pectors to secure work under the foreman from th' o-bar of the bar , and the two outfits were ," hummed waf- going to the hills as soon as the round-up fles, sinking the was over. each outfit tried to outdo the o branding-iron in other and each individual strove for a prize. the flank of a calf. the man who cut out and dragged to the the scene was one fire the most calves in three days could leave of great activity at the expiration of that time, the rest to and hilarity. sev follow as soon as they could. eral fires in this contest hopalong cassidy led his burning near the huge corral and in them nearest rival, red connors, both of whom half a dozen irons were getting hot. three were bar men, by twenty cut-outs, calves were being held down for the brand and there remained but half an hour more of the “bar ” and two more were being in which to compete. as red disappeared dragged up on their sides by the ropes of into the sea of tossing horns hopalong the cowboys, the proud cow-ponies showing dashed out with a whoop, dragging calf off their accomplishments at the expense at the end of his rope. of the calves' feelings. in the corral the "hi, yu trellis-built rack of bones, come dust arose in steady clouds as calf after calf along there! whoop!” he yelled, turning was "cut out" by the ropers and dragged the prisoner over to the squad by the fire. out to get "tagged.” angry cows fought “chalk up this here insignificant wart of valiantly for their terrorized offspring, but cross-eyed perversity: an' how many?” he always to no avail, for the hated rope of called as he galloped back to the corral. some perspiring and dust-grimed rider sent “one ninety-eight," announced buck, them crashing to earth. over the plain blowing the sand from the tally sheet. were herds of cattle and groups of madly “that's shore goin' some,” he remarked to riding cowboys, and two cook wagons were himself. stalled a short distance from the corral. when the calf sprang up it was filled with the round-up of the bar was taking terror, rage and pain, and charged at billy place. from the rear as that pessimistic soul was the outfit of this ranch was composed leaning over and poking his finger at a of eight cowboys, one of whom, buck pe somber horned-toad. "wow!" he yelled ters, was foreman. all were well known as his feet took huge steps up in the air, throughout the cattle country as a prize each one strictly on its own course. winning aggregation at any game. having "woof!” he grunted in the hot sand as he been short of help, they had paid a visit to arose on his hands and knees and spat muddy wells and cleaned up at poker the alkali. outfit of the “o-bar- ,” which had just "what's s'matter?” he asked dazedly started for the black hills in response to a of johnny nelson. “ain't it funny!” he rumor of fresh gold discoveries. this loss yelled sarcastically as he beheld johnny of capital had forced the would-be pros- holding his sides with laughter. “ain't it bar range yarns funny!” he repeated belligerently. "of rope; they ties up my pants; they puts course that four-laigged, knock-kneed, wob water in my boots an' toads in my bunk- blin' son-of-a-piute had to cut me out. ain't they never goin' to get sane?” they wasn't nobody in sight but billy! "oh, they're only kids—they can't help why didn't yu say he was comin'? think it,” offered buck. “didn't they hobble i can see four ways to onct? why didn't-" my cayuse when i was on him an' near at this point red cantered up with a calf bust my neck?" and, by a quick maneuver, drew the taut hopalong interrupted the conversation rope against the rear of billy's knees, caus by bringing up another calf, and buck, ing that unfortunate to sit down heavily. glancing at his watch, declared the contest as he arose choking with broken-winded at an end. profanity red dragged the animal to the “yu wins," he remarked to the new- fire, and billy forgot his grievances in the comer. “an' now yu get scarce or billy press of labor. will shore straddle yore nerves. he said “how many, buck?" asked red. as how he was goin' to get square on yu “one-eighty.” to-night.” “how does she stand?" "i didn't, neither, hoppy!" earnestly "yore eighteen to th' bad,” replied the contradicted billy, who had visions of a foreman. night spent in torment as a reprisal for such "th' son-of-a-gun!" marveled red, rid a threat. "honest i didn't, did i, johnny?" ing off. he asked appealingly. another whoop interrupted them, and “yu shore did,” lied johnny, winking at billy quit watching out of the corner eye red, who had just ridden up. for pugnacious calves as he prepared for “i don't know what yore talkin' about, hopalong. but yu shore did,” replied red. “hey, buck, this here cuss was with "if yu did," grinned hopalong, "i'll a barred-horseshoe cow," he announced shore make yu hard to find. come on, as he turned it over to the branding man. fellows,” he said; “grub's ready. where's buck made a tally in a separate column frenchy?" and released the animal. “hullo, red! “over chewin' th' rag with waffles about workin'?" asked hopalong of his rival. his hat-he's lost it again,” answered red. “some, yu little cuss, answered red “he needs a guardian fer that bonnet. th' with all the good nature in the world. kid an' salvation has jammed it in th' hopalong was his particular "side partner, corral fence an' waffles has to stand fer it.” and he could lose to him with the best of “let's put it in th’ grub wagon an' see feelings. him cuss cookie," suggested hopalong. “yu looks so nice an' cool an' clean, i "shore," indorsed johnny; "cookie 'll didn't know,” responded hopalong, eyeing feed him bum grub for a week to get a streak of sweat and dust which ran from square." red's eyes to his chin and then on down hopalong and johnny ambled over to his neck. the corral and after some trouble located “what yu been doin'? plowin' with the missing sombrero, which they carried yore nose?'' returned red, smiling blandly to the grub wagon and hid in the flour at his friend's appearance. barrel. then they went over by the ex- "yah!” snorted hopalong, wheeling to cited owner and dropped a few remarks ward the corral. “come on, yu pie-eatin' about how strange the cook was acting and dodle-bug; i'll beat yu to the gate!" how he was watching frenchy. the two ponies sent showers of sand all frenchy jumped at the bait and tore over billy, who eyed them in pugnacious over to the wagon, where he and the cook disgust. “of all th' locoed imps that ever spent some time in mutual recrimination. made life miserable fer a man, them's th' hopalong nosed around and finally dug up worst! is there any piece of fool nonsense the hat, white as new-fallen snow. they hain't harnessed me with?” he be "here's a hat-found it in th' dough seeched of buck. “is there anything they barrel,” he announced, handing it over to hain't done to me? they hides my liquor; frenchy, who received it in open-mouthed they stuffs th' sweat band of my hat with stupefaction. the outing magazine "yu pie-makin' pirate! yu didn't know horse. then, as he realized that he could where my lid was, did yu! yu cross-eyed get a pack mule to carry the surplus, he lump of hypocrisy!” yelled frenchy, dust became aware of a strange presence near ing off the flour with one full-armed swing at hand and looked up into the muzzle of a on the cook's face, driving it into that un sharp's rifle. he grasped the situation in fortunate's nose and eyes and mouth. “yu a flash and calmly blew several heavy smoke white-washed chink, yu-rub yore face rings around the frowning barrel. with water an' yu've got pancakes." "well?" he asked slowly. "hey! what yu doin'!” yelled the “nice day, stranger," replied the man cook, kicking the spot where he had last with the rifle, “but don't yu reckon yu've seen frenchy. “don't yu know better'n made a mistake?” that!” hopalong glanced at the number burned “yu live close to yoreself or i'll throw on a near-by stake and blew another smoke yu so high th' sun'll duck," replied frenchy, ring. he was waiting for the gun to waver. a smile illuminating his face. “no, i reckons not,” he answered. "hey, cookie," remarked hopalong con "why?" fidentially, "i know who put up this joke "well, i'll jest tell yu since yu asks. on yu. yu ask billy who hid th’hat," this yere claim's mine an' i'm a reg'lar suggested the tease. “here he comes now terror, i am. that's why; an' seein' as it -see how queer he looks.” is, yu better amble some.” "th’mournful piute,” ejaculated the hopalong glanced down the street and cook. “i'll shore make him wish he'd kept saw an interested group watching him, on his own trail. i'll flavor his slush which only added to his rage for being in (coffee) with year-old dish-rags!" such a position. then he started to say at this juncture billy ambled up, keep- something, faltered and stared with horror ing his weather eye peeled for trouble. at a point several feet behind his oppo- "who's a dish-rag?" he queried. the nent. the "terror” sprang to one side in cook mumbled something about crazy hens response to hopalong's expression, as if not knowing when to quit cackling and fearing that a snake or some such danger climbed up in his wagon. and that night threatened him. as he alighted in his new billy swore off drinking coffee. position he fell forward and hopalong slid when the dawn of the next day broke, a smoking colt in its holster. *hopalong was riding toward the black several men left the distant group and hills, leaving billy to untie himself as best ran toward the claim. hopalong reached he might his arm inside the door and brought forth the trip was uneventful and several days his sharp's rifle, with which he covered later he entered red dog, a rambling their advance. shanty town, one of those western mush "anything yu want?" he shouted sav- rooms that sprang up in a night. he took agely. up his stand at the miner’s rest, and finally the men stopped and two of them started secured six claims at the cost of nine hun to sidle in front of two others, but hopa- dred hard-earned dollars, a fund subscribed long was not there for the purpose of per- by the outfits, as it was to be a partnership mitting a move that would screen any gun affair. play and he stopped the game with a warn- he rode out to a staked-off piece of hill- ing shout. then the two held up their side and surveyed his purchase, which con hands and advanced. sisted of a patch of ground, six holes, six “we wants to git dan,” called out one of piles of dirt and a log hut. the holes them, nodding at the prostrate figure. showed that the claims had been tried and "come ahead," replied hopalong, sub- found wanting stituting a colt for the rifle. he dumped his pack of tools and pro they carried their badly wounded and visions, which he had bought on the way insensible burden back to those whom they up, and lugged them into the cabin. after had left, and several curses were hurled at satisfying his curiosity he went outside and the cowboy, who only smiled grimly and sat down for a smoke, figuring up in his entered the hut to place things ready for mind how much gold he could carry on a a siege, should one come. he had one bar range yarns hundred rounds of ammunition and pro th' rest. better come down an' have some- visions enough for two weeks, with the thing,” in vited the miner. assurance of reinforcements long before “i'd shore like to, but i can't let no gang that time would expire. he cut several get in that door,” replied the puncher. rough loopholes and laid out his weapons “oh, that's all right; i'll call my pardner for quick handling. he knew that he down to keep house till yu gits back. he could stop any advance during the day and can hold her all right. hey, jake!” he planned only for night attacks. how long called to a man who was some hundred he could do without sleep did not bother paces distant; "come down here an' keep him, because he gave it no thought, as house till we gits back, will yu?” he was accustomed to short naps and the man lumbered down to them and could awaken at will or at the slightest took possession as hopalong and his newly sound. found friend started for the town. as dusk merged into dark he crept forth they entered the “miner's rest” and and collected sev ral handfuls of dry twigs, hopalong fixed the room in his mind with which he scattered around the hut, as the one swift glance. three men — and they cracking of these would warn him of an looked like the crowd he had stopped the approach. then he went in and went to day before — were playing poker at a table sleep. near the window. hopalong leaned with he awoke at daylight after a good night's his back to the bar and talked, with the rest, and feasted on canned beans and players always in sight. peaches. then he tossed the cans out of soon the door opened and a bewhiskered, the door and shoved his hat out. receiv- heavy-set man tramped in and, walking up ing no response he walked out and sur to hopalong, looked him over. veyed the town at his feet. a sheepish “huh,” he sneered, “yu are th' gent with grin spread over his face as he realized that th' festive guns that plugged dan, ain't there was no danger. several red-shirted yu?” men passed by him on their way to town, hopalong looked him in the eyes and and one, a grizzled veteran of many gold quietly replied: “an' who th’h-l are camps, stopped and sauntered up to him. yu?” "mornin'," said hopalong. the stranger's eyes blazed and his face “mornin',” replied the stranger. “i wrinkled with rage as he aggressively thought i'd drop in an' say that i saw that shoved his jaw close to hopalong's face. gun-play of yourn yesterday. yu ain't “yu runt, i'm a better man than yu got no reason to look fer a rush. this even if yu do wear hair pants,” referring camp is half white men an' half bullies, an to hopalong's chaps. “yu cow-wrastlers th' white men won't stand fer no play like make me tired, an' i'm goin' to show yu that. them fellers that jest passed are that this town is too good for you. yu neighbors of yourn, an' they won't lay abed can say it right now that yu are a ornery, if yu needs them. but yu wants to look game-leg- out fer th' joints in th' town. guess this hopalong, blind with rage, smashed his business is out of yore line," he finished as insulter squarely between the eyes with he sized hopalong up. all the power of his sinewy body behind "she shore is, but i'm here to stay. got the blow, knocking him in a heap under tired of punchin' an' reckoned i'd git rich.” the table. then he quickly glanced at the here he smiled and glanced at the hole. card players and saw a hostile movement. “how're yu makin' out?” he asked. his gun was out in a flash and he covered "'bout five dollars a day apiece, but that the trio as he walked up to them. never ain't nothin' when grub's so high. got in all his life had he felt such a desire to reckless th' other day an' had a egg at fifty kill. his eyes were diamond points of cents.” accumulated fury, and those whom he hopalong whistled and glanced at the faced quailed before him. empty cans at his feet. “any marshal in “yu scum of th' earth! draw, please, this burg?" draw! pull yore guns an' gimme my "yep. but he's one of th’ gang. no chance! three to one, an'l'll lay my good, an' drunk half th' time an’ half drunk guns here,” he said, placing them on the the outing magazine bar and removing his hands. “nearer hand across his fast-closing eyes. cursing my god to thee' is purty appropriate streaks of profanity, he staggered to the fer yu just now! yu seem to be a-scared door and landed in a heap in the street from of yore own guns. git down on yore the force of hopalong's kick. struggling dirty knees an’ say good an' loud that to his feet, he ran unsteadily down the yu eats dirt! shout out that yu are too block and disappeared around a corner. currish to live with decent men,” he said, the bartender, cool and unperturbed, even-toned and distinct, his voice vibrant pushed out three glasses on his treat: "i've with passion as he took up his colts. “get seen yu afore, up in cheyenne---'member? down!" he repeated, shoving the weapons how's yore friend red?” he asked as he forward and pulling back the hammers. filled the glasses with the best the house the trio glanced at each other, and all afforded. three dropped to their knees and repeated "well, shore 'nuff! glad to see yu, in venomous hatred the words hopalong jimmy! what yu doin' away off here?” said for them. asked hopalong, beginning to feel at home. “now git! an' if i sees yu when i "oh, jest filterin' round like. i'm aw- leaves i'll send yu after yore friend. i'll ful glad to see yu-this yere wart of a town shoot on sight now. git!" he escorted needs siftin' out. it was only last week i them to the door and kicked the last one was wishin' one of yore bunch 'ud show up out. —that ornament yu jest buffaloed shore his miner friend still leaned against the raised th’ devil in here, an' i wished i had bar and looked his approval. somebody to prospect his anatomy for a “well done, youngster! but yu wants lead mine. but he's got a tough gang cir- to look out-that man,” pointing to the culating with him. ever hear of dutch now groping victim of hopalong's blow, shannon or blinky neary? they's with “is th' marshal of this town. he or his pals him." will get yu if yu don't watch th'corners.” "dutch shannon? nope," he replied. hopalong walked over to the marshal, “bad eggs, an' not a-carin' how they gits jerked him to his feet and slammed him square. th'feller yu salted yesterday was against the bar. then he tore the cheap a bosom friend of th' marshal's, an' he badge from its place and threw it on the passed in his chips last night." floor. reaching down, he drew the mar "so?" shal's revolver from its holster and shoved “yep. bought a bottle of ready-made it in its owner's hand. nerve an’ went to his own funeral. aris- “yore th' marshal of this place an’ it's totle smith was lookin' fer him up in chey- too good for me, but yore goin' to pick up enne last year. aristotle said he'd give that tin lie," pointing at the badge, “an' a century fer five minutes' palaver with yore goin' to do it right now. then yore him, but he shied th' town an' didn't come goin' to get kicked out of that door, an’ if back. yu know aristotle, don't yu? he's yu stops runnin' while i can see yu i'll fill th' geezer that made fame up to poison yu so full of holes yu'll catch cold. yore knob three years ago. he used to go to a sumptious marshal, yu are! yore th’ town ridin' astride a log on th’lumber snortingest ki-yi that ever stuck its tail flume. made four miles in six minutes atween its laigs, yu are. yu pop-eyed with th' promise of a ruction when he wall flower, yu wants to peep to yore stopped. once when he was loaded he self or some papoose 'll slide yu over th’ tried to ride back th' same way he came, an' divide so fast yu won't have time to grease th' first thing he knowed he was three miles yore pants. pick up that license-tag an' farther from his supper an'a-slippin' down let me see yu perculate so lively that yore that valley like he wanted to go somewhere. back 'll look like a ten-cent piece in five he swum out at potter's dam an’ it took seconds. flit!" him a day to walk back. but he didn't the marshal, dazed and bewildered, make that play again, because he was fre- stooped and fumbled for the badge. then quently sober, an’ when he wasn't he'd only he stood up and glanced at the gun in his stand off an' swear at th' slide. hand and at the eager man before him. he “that's aristotle, all hunk. he's th' slid the weapon in his belt and drew his chap that used to play checkers with dea- bar range yarns con rawlins. they used empty an' smiled. “what'd he say?” he asked loaded shells for men, an’ when they got a genially. king they'd lay one on its side. sometimes “oh, he jest shot off his mouth a little. they'd jar th' board an' they'd all be kings they's all no good. i've collided with an' then they'd have a cussin' match," lots of them all over this country. they replied hopalong, once more restored to can't face a good man an' keep their nerve. good humor. what 'd yu say to th' marshal?" "why,” responded jimmy, "he counted “i told him what he was an' threw him his wealth over twice by mistake an’ shore outen th' street,” replied hopalong. “in raised a howl when he went to blow it about two weeks we'll have a new marshal thought he'd been robbed, an' laid behind an’ he'll shore be a dandy." th' houses fer a week lookin' fer th’ feller “yes? why don't yu take th' job yore- that done it.” self? we're with yu.” “i've heard of that cuss-he shore was “better man comin'. ever hear of buck th’limit. what become of him?" asked peters or red connors of th' bar , the miner. texas?" “he ambled up to laramie an’ stuck “buck peters? seems to me i have. his head in th' window of that joint by th’ did he punch fer th' tin-cup up in mon- plaza an' hollered “fire,' an' they did. he tana, 'bout twenty years back?" was shore a good feller, all th’ same,” “shore! him and frenchy mcallister answered the bartender. punched all over that country an' they hopalong laughed and started for the used to paint cheyenne, too,” replied hop- door. turning around he looked at his along, eagerly. miner friend and asked: “comin' along? "i knows him, then. i used to know i'm goin' back now.” frenchy, too. are they comin' up here?" "nope. reckon i'll hit th' tiger a whirl. "yes," responded hopalong, struggling l'll stop in when i passes.” with another can while waiting for the fire “all right. so long,” replied hopalong, to catch up. “better have some grub slipping out of the door and watching for with me don't like to eat alone,” in vited trouble. there was no opposition shown the cowboy, the reaction of his late rage him, and he arrived at his claim to find swinging him to the other extreme. jake in a heated argument with another when their tobacco had got well started at the close of the meal and content had “here he comes now," he said as hopa- taken possession of them hopalong laughed long walked up. “tell him what yu said quietly and finally spoke: to me.” “did yu ever know aristotle smith when “i said yu made a mistake,” said the yu was up in montana?" other, turning to the cowboy in a half “did ! well, me an' aristotle pros- apologetic manner. pected all through that country till he got “an' what else?” insisted jake. so locoed i had to watch him fer fear he'd "why, ain't that all?" asked the claim blow us both up. he greased th' fryin' pan jumper's friend in feigned surprise, wish- with dynamite one night, an’ we shore had ing that he had kept quiet. to eat jerked meat an' canned stuff all th’ "well, i reckons it is if yu can't back up rest of that trip. what made yu ask? is yore words," responded jake in open con he comin' up too?” tempt. “no, i reckons not. jimmy, th’ bar- hopalong grabbed the intruder by the tender, said that he cashed in up at lara- collar of his shirt and hauled him off the mie. wasn't he th' cuss that built that claim. "yu keep off this, understand? i boat out there on th' arizona desert be- just kicked yore marshal out in th’ street, cause he was scared that a flood might an’ i'll pay yu th’next call. if yu rambles come? th’ sun shore warped that punt in range of my guns yu'll shore get in th' till it wasn't even good for a hencoop." way of a slug. yu an' yore gang wants to "nope. that was sister-annie tomp- browse on th' far side of th' range or yu'll kins. he was purty near as bad as aris- miss a sunrise some mornin'. scoot!" totle, though. he roped a puma up on th' hopalong turned to his companion and sacramentos, an' didn't punch no more fer of the gang the outing magazine three weeks. well, here comes my pard “an’mine's hopalong cassidy," was the ner an' i reckons l’ll amble right along. if reply. “i've heard buck speak of yu.” yu needs any referee or a side pardner in “has yu? well, don't it beat all how any ruction yu has only got to warble up little this world is? somebody allus turnin' my way. so long." up that knows somebody yu knows. i'll the next ten days passed quietly and on just amble along, mr. cassidy, an' don't the afternoon of the eleventh hopalong's yu be none bashful about callin' if yu miner friend paid him a visit. needs me. any pal of buck's is my friend. "jake recommends yore peaches,” he well, so long,” said the visitor as he strode laughed as he shook hopalong's hand. off. then he stopped and turned around. “he says yu boosted another of that crowd. "hey, mister!" he called. "they are goin' that bein' so i thought i would drop in an' to roll a fire barrel down agin yu from be- say that they're comin' after yu to-night, hind,” indicating by an outstretched arm shore. just heard of it from yore friend the point from where it would start. "if jimmy. yu can count on us when th' it burns yu out i'm goin' to take a hand rush comes. but why didn't yu say yu: from up there," pointing to a cluster of was a pard of buck peters'? me an' him rocks well to the rear of where the crowd used to shoot up laramie together. from would work from, "an' i don't care whether what yore friend james says, yu can handle yu likes it or not,” he added to himself. this gang by yore lonesome, but if yu needs hopalong scratched his head and then any encouragement yu make some sign an' laughed. taking up a pick and shovel, he we'll help th' event along some. they's went out behind the cabin and dug a trench eight of us that 'll be waitin' up to get th’ parallel with and about twenty paces returns an’ we're shore goin' to be in away from the rear wall. heaping the range.” excavated dirt up on the near side of the “gee, it's nice to run across a friend of cut, he stepped back and surveyed his buck's! ain't he a son-of-a-gun?" asked labor with open satisfaction. "roll yore hopalong, delighted at the news. then, fire barrel an' be d--," he muttered. without waiting for a reply, he went on: “mebby she won't make a bully light for "yore shore square, all right, an' i hates to pot shots, though," he added, grinning at refuse yore offer, but i got eighteen friends the execution he would do. comin' up an' they ought to get here by to taking up his tools, he went up to the morrow. yu tell jimmy to head them place from where the gang would roll the this way when they shows up an' i'll have barrel, and made half a dozen mounds of th' claim for them. there ain't no use of twigs, being careful to make them very yu fellers gettin' mixed up in this. th’ flimsy. then he covered them with earth bunch that's comin' can clean out any and packed them gently. the mounds gang this side of sunup, an' i expects they'll looked very tempting from the view-point shore be anxious to begin when they finds of a marksman in search of earthworks, and me eatin' peaches an’ wastin' my time appeared capable of stopping any rifle ball shootin' bums. yu pass th' word along to that could be fired against them. hopa- yore friends, an' tell them to lay low an' see long looked them over critically and th' arory boerallis hit this town with its stepped back. tail up. tell jimmy to do it up good when "i'd like to see th' look on th' face of he speaks about me holdin' th' claim-i th'son-of-a-gun that uses them for cover- likes to see buck an' red fight when they're won't he be surprised?” and he grinned good an' mad.” gleefully as he pictured his shots boring the miner laughed and slapped hopalong through them. then he placed in the on the shoulder. “yore all right, young center of each a chip or a pebble or some- ster! yore just like buck was at yore age. thing that he thought would show up well say now, i reckons he wasn't a reg'lar in the firelight. terror on wheels! why, i've seen him do returning to the cabin, he banked it up more foolish things than any man i knows well with dirt and gravel, and tossed a few of, an' i calculate that if buck pals with shovelfuls up on the roof as a safety valve yu there ain't no water in yore sand. my to his exuberance. when he entered the name's tom halloway," he suggested. door he had another idea, and fell to work bar range yarns scooping out a shallow cellar, deep enough "now," said hopalong, blazing at the to shelter him when lying at full length. mounds as fast as he could load and fire then he stuck his head out of the window his sharp's, "we'll just see what yu thinks and grinned at the false covers with their of yore nice little covers.” prominent bull's-eyes. yells of consternation and pain rang out "when that prize-winnin' gang of ossi in a swelling chorus, and legs and arms fied idiots runs up agin these fortifica jerked and flopped, one man, in his aston- tions they shore will be disgusted. i'll ishment at the shot that tore open his bet four dollars an' seven cents they'll cheek, sitting up in plain sight of that think their medicine-man's no good. i marksman, who then killed him. roars of hopes that puff-eyed marshal will pick out rage floated up from the main body of the that hump with th' chip on it," and he besiegers, and the discomfited remnant of hugged himself in anticipation. barrel-rollers broke for real cover, hopa- he then cut down a sapling and fastened long picking off two in their flight. it to the roof and on it he tied his neck then he stopped another rush from the kerchief, which fluttered valiantly and with front, made upon the supposition that he defiance in the light breeze. "i shore hopes was thinking only of the second detach- they appreciates that," he remarked whim ment. a hearty cheer arose from tom sically, as he went inside the hut and closed halloway and his friends, ensconced in the door. their rocky position, and it was taken up the early part of the evening passed in by those on the hill, who danced and yelled peace, and hopalong, tired of watching in their delight at the battle, to them more vain, wished for action. midnight came, humorous than otherwise. and it was not until half an hour before this recognition of his prowess from men dawn that he was attacked. then a noise of the caliber of his audience made him feel sent him to a locphole, where he fired two good, and he grinned: “gee, i'll bet hallo- shots at skulking figures some distance off. way an' his friend is shore itchin' to get in a fusillade of bullets replied; one of them this,” he murmured, firing at a head that ripped through the door at a weak spot was foolishly shown for an instant. “got and drilled a hole in a can of the everlast yu!" he exclaimed, scooping up more peach ing peaches. hopalong set the can in the juice. “wonder what red 'll say when frying pan and then flitted from loophole jimmy tells him-bet he'll plow dust like to loophole, shooting quick and straight. a cyclone,” and hopalong laughed, pic- several curses told him that he had not turing to himself the satiation of red's missed, and he scooped up a finger of peach anger. "old red-headed son-of-a-gun," juice. shots thudded into the walls of his murmured the cowboy affectionately, "he fort in an unceasing stream, and, as it grew shore can fight.” lighter, several whizzed through the loop as he squinted over the sights of his holes. he kept close to the earth and rifle his eye caught sight of a moving body waited for the rush, and when it came sent of men as they cantered over the flats about it back minus two of its members. two miles away. in his eagerness he for- as he reloaded his colts a bullet passed got to shoot and carefully counted them. through his shirt sleeve and he promptly “nine,” he grumbled. "wonder what's th’ nailed the marksman. he looked out of matter?”—fearing that they were not his a crack in the rear wall and saw the top of friends. then a second body numbering an adjoining hill crowned with spectators, eight cantered into sight and followed the all of whom were armed. some time later first. he repulsed another attack and heard a "whoop! there's th' red-head!” he faint cheer from his friends on the hill. shouted, dancing in his joy. "now," he then he saw a barrel, blazing from end to shouted at the peach can joyously, “yu end, roll out from the place he had so care wait about thirty minutes an' yu'll shore fully covered with mounds. it gathered reckon hades has busted loose!'' speed and bounded over the rough ground, he grabbed up his colts, which he kept flashed between two rocks and leaped into loaded for repelling rushes, and recklessly the trench, where it crackled and roared in emptied them into the bushes and between vain. the rocks and trees, searching every likely the outing magazine place for a human target. then he slipped yu was afraid we'd git some!" shouted red his rifle in a loophole and waited for good indignantly, leaping down and running up shots, having worked off the dangerous to his pal as though to thrash him. pressure of his exuberance. hopalong grinned pleasantly and fired soon he heard a yell from the direction a peach against red's eye. “i was savin’ of the "miner's rest," and fell to jamming that one for yu, reddie,” he remarked, cartridges into his revolvers so that he as he avoided buck's playful kick. “yu could sally out and join in the fray by the fellers git to work an' dig up some wealth side of red. - i'm hungry.” then he turned to buck: the thunder of madly pounding hoofs "yore th' marshal of this town, an’ any rolled up the trail, and soon a horse and son-of-a-gun what don't like it had better rider shot around the corner and headed for write. oh, yes, here comes tom hallo- the copse. three more raced close behind, way'member him?” and then a bunch of six, followed by the buck turned and faced the miner and rest, spread out and searched for trouble. his hand went out with a jerk. red, a colt in each hand and hatless, "well, i'll be locoed if i didn't punch stood up in his stirrups and sent shot after with yu on th' tin-cup!” he said. shot into the fleeing mob, which he could “yu shore did an' yu was purty devilish, not follow on account of the nature of the but that there cassidy of your beats any- ground. buck wheeled and dashed down thing i ever seen.” the trail again with red a close second, the "he's a good kid," replied buck, glancing others packed in a solid mass and after them. to where red and hopalong were quarrel- at the first level stretch the newcomers ing as to who had eaten the most pie in a swept down and hit their enemies, going contest held some years before. through them like a knife through cheese. johnny, nosing around, came upon the hopalong danced up and down with rage perforated and partially scattered piles of when he could not find his horse, and had earth and twigs, and vented his disgust of to stand and yell, a spectator. them by kicking them to pieces. “hey! the fight drifted in among the buildings, hoppy! oh, hoppy!” he called, "what where it became a series of isolated duels, are these things?” and soon hopalong saw panic-stricken hopalong jammed red's hat over that horses carrying their riders out of the other person's eyes and replied: "oh, them's some side of the town. then he went gunning loaded dice i fixed for them.” for the man who had rustled his horse. "yu son-of-a-gun!" sputtered red, as he he was unsuccessful and returned to his wrestled with his friend in the exuberance peaches. of his pride. “yu son-of-a-gun! yu shore soon the riders came up, and when they ought to be ashamed to treat 'em that saw hopalong shove a peach into his pow- way!" der-grimed mouth they yelled their delight. “shore,” replied hopalong. “but i "yu old maverick! eatin' peaches like ain't!" wa-gush by lawrence mott painting by frank e. schoonover t ure. the north wind flung itself wildly, it was nearly daylight when he woke, viciously over the gray barrens; his mind roused to action by the feeling of shrieking and whistling, it passed the presence of something. he got up, into the dark forests beyond. started to call the dogs, when the gleam of a lone figure, urging on his dog team, a fire in the forest below arrested his voice. sometimes pushing the sledge behind them “who's dere?” he muttered when the snow was soft, struggled slowly in yellow lines of light that flickered and across the mournful distances. shone, the other fire gleamed warmly. his “sacrée, ah no get to de poste dees own had gone out. night," he murmured. “ah go see!” and he went, stealing from as though in answer to his words the tree to tree, the sound of his feet crunching dogs stopped, panting, their feet bleeding, in the snow covered up by the noises of the their eyes half closed; worn out with the angry night. weight of their load and the killing softness by the brightly blazing fire were two of the snow. figures close together, a man and a woman. the man, phiné poleon, straightened up her face he could not see for the dancing and looked about, while the wind tore at shadows. his clothes, bellowed in his ears and slung “dat ees le renard," he whispered, the biting drift over him. everywhere recognizing an old comrade in the man. loomed the solitude of the winter barrens; he was about to go forward when the wom- everywhere the snow flew along in tumbling an rose and passed behind the other fig- clouds, ever and always the gale shrieked poleon saw the flash of steel, but in gusts. the dogs had lain down together, could not hear the groan. he saw the body creeping to one another that their warmth roll over and twitch convulsively. might keep off the fury of the storm. bon dieu, w'at you do?” he shouted, ah mus' get to de fores',” phiné said leaping on. the woman saw him coming aloud, took up his whip and curled the and darted away in the blackness, seizing a thong about the tired brutes. pair of snowshoes that were near as she ran. “allez! allez! marse!” “d-n you,” hecursed and tried to follow. they got to their feet painfully and he stumbled and slipped, then stopped started on, he helping from the rear. breathless. only the impenetrable mass at last, after hours of fighting against the of trunks met his eyes, their branches flap- whirling snow, he came to the forest. tall, ping monotonously to and fro. black and grim the hemlock and pine "no can catch now,” and he went back stood before him, their tops pirouetting to the wounded man. wildly in the wind. "renard, w'at ees?” he asked frantically, in their shelter poleon halted, built a tearing open his friend's capote and shirt. lean-to, gathered some dry wood and light the latter opened his great black eyes for ed his fire. the flames ate their red way an instant. speedily, and roared their heat to the cold “dat-you--poleon?” ness of the air. “si-si, the latter answered, trying to after supper he fed the dogs, rolled him stop the flow of blood that reddened the self in his rabbit-skin blanket and slept. snow. the outing magazine “ah'm-een-de-pol-eece- dees gravely he stood on it then, and said his year; catch mans for steal, hego-stonee ave maria twice, called to the team and -montaigne ;* dees girl-mak' me t'ink turned away, tears in his eyes. she loove-me; she sistaire dat mans!” at night he reached the hudson bay the voice finished. company's post at mistassiny and took his “ah catch her sure!” poleon screamed, furs to the factor, receiving for them food seeing that his friend's death was near. and some money. “w'at her name? no could see her, me.” “'tis a good thing ye got a fair lot this the dying trapper gasped and gurgled a time,” the scotchman said as he examined moment, “w-g and died. the skins, “fur ye hae nae doun so well the dead man in his arms, the glazing lately, phin!” eyes looking unseeing into his, poleon but the big french canadian said noth- crouched, dazed, horror-stricken. as in a ing. dream, old scenes, memories of trapping for days he fought with himself as to days together, days that were fraught with whether he should tell of the murder he success sometimes, sometimes burdened had seen committed, because the post was with failure, but always hours of compan- asking for le renard, but he argued, “ah ionship and a deep friendliness, passed be no know dat w'man; dey no b’lief me; fore his memory eyes. mabbe tink ab keel renard,” and he was “an' now,” he muttered sadly, “eet all silent. feenesh forevaire.” then he stood up and the knife that he had found in his took off his cap. "bon dieu, hear w'en friend's back he kept. it was a peculiar ah, phiné poleon, say dat ah goin' keel dat blade, with a moose-horn handle and a girl somtaim!” he looked up at the blunted haft. he would take it out when heavens. they were dull gray and black he was alone in his tepee and look at it, with the coming light. clouds sped over moisture in his gaunt eyes. in banks and hurrying rifts. gloomy, for “ef ah onlee knew who deed dat!” he bidding and cold they were. would whisper over and over again. he picked up the dead man and carried each night before he slept he solemnly him to where his dogs were waiting, curled repeated his vow to kill the girl "som- up, asleep. on top of the load of fur he taim,” and each day he watched every- fastened the stiffening form. without thing and every one about the post furtive- breakfast or even a thought of food he ly, but learned nothing. the questions crackled his whip. about le renard faded away. "allez-hoop!” "he mus' ha' lost hisself,” the factor the half light in the forest showed the said. drifts and piled-up masses of snow, and the but poleon knew and he chafed at his dogs worked slowly along. weaker and own powerlessness. all winter he worked weaker their pulls at the load became, then on at his traps, and when spring came he they stopped, powerless to pull more. had a good credit account at the store. "w’at ah do?” phiné whispered, wiping "ah goin' be marry," he announced the beads of sweat from his face. “ah abruptly one day to the factor. mus' leave renard or my skeens. “who?” the latter asked. he stood long, hesitating between the "wa-gush." (little fox.) body of his friend and the fur he had col "she is a fox, too,” and the scotchman lected from his traps; these meant money chuckled, “but i hae nae doubt ye can beat and food to him. at last-"ah buree her well enou' to keep her frae foxin',” and renard,” and he fell to work. he laughed aloud. with his axe he dug through the snow “ah loove her, dat all i know," poleon and hacked at the frozen earth beneath, answered gravely and went out of the store. finally sinking a hole big enough for his pur on a glorious june day, when the trees pose. then he undid the lashings, lifted were green with springing life, and the air the dead man from the sledge, lowered him warm with the luxury of the coming short carefully, put back the earth, dragged the months of heat, poleon was married to wa- snow over the spot and stamped it down. gush, the little indian girl he had grown to * the penitentiary for the n. w. provinces. love, if a rough mastership with a passion- painting by frank e. s hoonover. "bon dieu, ah have keel lak' ah say, now ah keel h’again." wa-gush ate adoration besides can be called love. “ai?" she put her hand on his knee that all the post were there, and when the jes rested on the canoe bottom. uit father pronounced his blessing, they “ah have beeg pain!” cheered. "ai?" she said again, waiting. wa-gush and phiné took up their home he drew out the knife from his bosom. in a large, fine tepee that poleon had dees kn'fe—” he began, when he built for the occasion. the girl was slim, heard the startled gasp, felt her shiver run but strong in body, muscular and active. over the canoe and looked up. in the her face was of the chippewa type, with moonlight her dusky face was white, and long, slender nose, aloe eyes, high fore her eyes burned strangely at him. she head, straight black hair, tiny feet and controlled herself by a valiant effort. hands. “ai?” “dieu, ah loove you!” poleon whispered a wild thought flashed across him, and softly to her one night as the little supper he remembered, could hear the dying man's fire flamed and spluttered at their feet. attempt at a name: “w-g- she looked at him and her eyes narrowed she was herself again. “tell to me?" more than ever. and he told her the story, watching, now “an’ ah loove you!” she answered soft that the iron was in his heart, with the keen- ly, tapping her beaded moccasins with a ness of a hound, but wa-gush gave no little stick. further sign. poleon never beat her; on the contrary "dat too bad, poleon,” she said when he he carried the wood, built the fires, hauled finished, "you mus’ fin' dat girrl an' keel!” the nets on the lake; in short, did every straight she looked at him and he stared thing that is usually done by the squaws back. no waver of an eyelid met his gaze. --so much so that the post laughed at “you t'ink dat?” him. "ai-hai" (yes), she answered steadily, “ye do love her, don't ye, poleon?” the and they went home. factor said one day sarcastically. more days passed, but now they were "ah-hai" (yes), he answered. fraught with double pain to poleon. all this time of great happiness with the “it no can be dat !” he would say to him- girl, the old sorrow for his friend was work self when alone. ing at his heart. he would sit by his fire, at supper one night the blanket at the with her on the other side, and somberly entrance was pushed aside and a great dream, sometimes seeing the death picture, indian came in. sometimes almost feeling le renard.in his “bo' jou', poleon, bo' jou', sistaire, ah arms. comme f'om stonee montaigne, ah'm free often he tried to tell her of his pain, but at las'!” and he sat down. at each attempt the words stuck in his poleon turned to the girl; she was throat. no, he could not make her un watching him with a tense, hunted look. happy, especially because they both hoped “ah-h!” he whispered, and talked on for a child. unseen he would take out the gayly. knife and gloomily handle it, wondering, she was lulled to carelessness, thinking praying that some time he might have his he did not know, and when he suggested vengeance. they go on the lake, the next evening, she the days passed on, one by one, each got into the canoe quietly. filled with its own particular happiness the moon shone in all its glorious splen- with wa-gush, each bringing nearer the dor, silvering the waters and causing the longed-for event. in the evenings, when forest to appear as black lines. when at his nets were hauled and the dogs fed, po a distance from the post, poleon got out leon would take her out on the lake in one of the old knife. his birch-bark canoes and paddle quietly “you keel le renard,” he said, with no along the warm, dark shores, startling the anger in his voice, only an ineffable sorrow. deer from their feeding, and listening to the “non-non,” she answered, seeing the lonely hoot of owls. light in his eyes. one night his sorrow was too great. “ah say yes, an’ ah’m goin' keel "chérie," he said quietly. you!" the outing magazine she begged for mercy as he put the paddle down. “t'ink of you’ petit, "she whispered then; he crawled over the thwart. "ah am t’inken,” he said, and struck! the canoe trembled for an instant, then was quiet on the calm waters. he looked at her, dead at his feet, her little hands resting over the side. the knife was still in his hands.' “bon dieu, ah have keel lak’ ah say, now ah keel h’again.' he thrust at his own chest with a power- ful, heavy blow. “adieu, wa-gush, ah al- way loove you,” he gasped as he fell, over- turning the canoe by his weight. the waters rolled away in sullen ripples after the splash; and the upturned canoe floated motionless and dark on the still, moonlit surface. pan in the catskills by bliss carman they say that he is dead, and now no more the reedy syrinx sounds among the hills, when the long summer heat is on the land. but i have heard the catskill thrushes sing, and therefore am incredulous of death, of pain and sorrow and mortality. in those blue cañons, deep with hemlock shade, in solitudes of twilight or of dawn, i have been rapt away from time and care by the enchantment of a golden strain as pure as ever pierced the thracian wild, filling the listener with a mute surmise. at evening and at morning i have gone down the cool trail between the beech-tree boles, and heard the haunting music of the wood ring through the silence of the dark ravine, flooding the earth with beauty and with joy and all the ardors of creation old. and then within my pagan heart awoke remembrance of far-off and fabled years in the untarnished sunrise of the world, when clear-eyed hellas in her rapture heard a slow mysterious piping wild and keen thrill through her vales, and whispered, "it is pan!" the long labrador trail the compact with hubbard fulfilled by dillon wallace foreword d illon wallace was sent to labrador by the outing magazine to finish the task undertaken by leonidas hubbard, jr., and himself in . mr. wallace succeeded not only in making the hard and perilous pilgrimage whose first attempt resulted in the lamentable death of his companion, but also pushed much farther into the northern wilderness over an unbeaten trail. among the results of his brilliant and heroic expedition were: traversing eight bundred miles of country unknown and unexplored. making the first maps of much of this vast tract. contributing new knowledge concerning the geology and flora of labrador. striking south on the return trip along an uncharted stretch of coast, a homeward trip of two thousand miles, with dog sleds and snowshoes. living for almost a year in the northern wilderness, and, largely because of experience gained in his previous venture, returning in rugged health and without serious mishap of any kind. in the opinion of the editor of this magazine, mr. wallace's story, which will be published serially, is not only a virile and absorbing narrative of the great outdoors, but also a splendid record of american courage, endurance and heroism. i "it's always the way, wallace! when a fellow starts on the long trail, he's never willing to quit. it 'll be the same with you if you go with me to labrador. when you come home, you'll hear the voice of the wilderness calling you to return, and it will lure you back again." it seems but yesterday that hubbard uttered those prophetic words as he and i lay before our blazing camp-fire in the snow- covered shawangunk mountains on that november night in the year , and planned that fateful trip into the unex- plored labrador wilderness which was to cost my dear friend his life, and both of us indescribable sufferings and hardships. and how true a prophecy it was! you who have smelled the camp-fire smoke; who have drunk in the pure forest air, laden with the smell of the fir tree; who have dipped your paddle into untamed waters, or climbed mountains, with the knowledge that none but the red man has been there before you; or have, perchance, had to fight the wilds and nature for your very existence; you of the wilderness brother- hood can understand how the fever of ex- ploration gets into one's blood and draws one back again to the forests and the bar- rens in spite of resolutions to “go no more.” it was more than this, however, that lured me back to labrador. there was the vision of dear old hubbard as i so often saw him during our struggle through that rugged northland wilderness, wasted in form and ragged in dress, but always hope- ful and eager, his undying spirit and in- domitable will focused in his words to me, and i can still see him as he looked when he said them: the outing magazine “the work must be done, wallace, and some time before, that, should i contem- if one of us falls before it is completed the plate another journey to labrador, the other must finish it.” outing magazine might be given an op- i went back to labrador to do the work portunity to engage my services. the he had undertaken, but which he was not magazine gave me a free hand in the selec- permitted to accomplish. his exhorta tion of men and outfit, as well as in the tion appealed to me as a command from method of conducting the expedition. the my leader-a call to duty. one injunction laid upon me was: hubbard had planned to penetrate the "come back yourself and bring back all labrador peninsula from groswater bay, your men. if you find the conditions are following the old northern trail of the such that it is unsafe to go on, come back mountaineer indians from northwest riv and try it again next year.” er post of the hudson's bay company, it was advisable to reach hamilton inlet situated on groswater bay, one hundred with the opening of navigation and make and forty miles inland from the eastern an early start into the country, for every coast, to lake michikamau, thence through possible day of the brief summer would be the lake and northward over the divide, needed for our purpose. where he hoped to locate the headwaters of it was, as i fully realized, no small the george river. undertaking. many hundreds of miles of it was his intention to pass down this unknown country must be traversed, and river until he reached the hunting camps over mountains and through marshes for of the nenenot or nascaupee indians, long distances our canoes and outfit would there witness the annual migration of the have to be transported upon the backs of caribou to the eastern seacoast, which tra the men comprising my party, as pack dition said took place about the middle animals cannot be used in labrador. latter part of september, and to be present through immense stretches of country at the “killing," when the indians, it was there would be no sustenance for them, reported, secured their winter's supply of and, in addition to this, the character of provisions by spearing the caribou while the the country itself forbids their use. herds were swimming the river. the cari the personnel of the expedition required bou hunt over, he was to have returned much thought. i might with one canoe across country to the st. lawrence or re and one or two professional indian pack- trace his steps to northwest river post, ers travel more rapidly than with men whichever might seem advisable. should, unused to exploration work, but in that however, the season be too fa dvanced case scientific research would have to be to permit of a safe return, he was to have slighted. i, therefore, decided to sacri- proceeded down the river to its mouth, fice speed to thoroughness and to take with at ungava bay, and return to civilization me men who, even though they might not in winter with dogs. be physically able to carry the large packs the country through which we were to of the professional voyageur, would in have traveled was to be mapped so far as other respects lend valuable assistance to possible, and observations made of the the work in hand. geological formation and of the flora, and my projected return to labrador was no as many specimens collected as possible. sooner announced than numerous applica- this, then, hubbard's plan, was the plan tions came to me from young men anxious which i adopted and which i set out to to join the expedition. after careful in- accomplish, when, in march, , i finally vestigation, i finally selected as my com- decided to return to labrador. panions george m. richards, of columbia hubbard was the assistant editor of the university, as geologist, and, to aid me in outing magazine, and it was under the the topographical work, clifford h. eas- auspices of this magazine that his expe ton, of the school of forestry at biltmore, dition two years before was undertaken. north carolina (both residents of new therefore, when my decision was made to york), and leigh stanton, of halifax, return to the north, i advised mr. caspar nova scotia, a veteran of the boer war, whitney, editor of the outing maga whom i had met at the lumber camps in zine, in compliance with his request, made groswater bay, labrador, in the winter of pack ice on the labrador coast. it may - , when he was installing the electric light plant in the large lumber mill there. it was desirable to have at least one indian in the party as woodsman, hunter and general camp servant. for this posi- tion my friend, frank h. keefer, of port arthur, ontario, recommended to me, and at my request engaged, peter stevens, a full-blood ojibway indian, of grand marais, minnesota. “pete” arrived in new york under the wing of the railway conductor during the last week in may. in the meantime i had devoted myself to the selection and purchase of our in- struments and general outfit. everything must be purchased in advance—from ca- noes to repair kit—as my former experi- ence in labrador had taught me. be of interest to mention the most im- portant items of outfit and the food sup- ply with which we were provided: two canvas-covered canoes, one nineteen and one eighteen feet in length; one seven by nine “a” tent, made of waterproof “bal- loon" silk; one tarpaulin, seven by nine there were .. several women and children." "behind it an indian burying ground." feet; folding tent stove and pipe; two taken by him in addition to the regular tracking lines; three small axes; cooking outfit). one remington double barrel outfit, consisting of two frying pans, one -gauge shotgun; two ten-inch barrel mixing pan and three aluminum kettles; single shot . caliber pistols for par- an aluminum plate, cup and spoon for each tridges and small game; ammunition; man; one . caliber high-power winches- tump-lines; three fishing rods and tackle, ter rifle and two - winchester car including trolling outfits; one three and bines (only one of these carbines was taken one-half inch gill net; repair kit, includ- with us from new york, and this was in- ing necessary material for patching ca- tended as a reserve gun in case the party noes, clothing, etc.; matches, and a medi- should separate and return by different cine kit. routes. the other was one used by stan the following instruments were also ton when previously in labrador, and carried: three minimum registering ther- indian women of the post. indians portaging canoes to the old camping ground. mometers; one aneroid barometer which and clothing was carried in a waterproof was tested and set for me by the united canvas bag. states weather bureau; one clinometer; our provision supply consisted of one pocket transit; three compasses; one pounds of pork; pounds of flour; pedometer; one taffrail log; one pair bin pounds of corn-meal; pounds of lentils; oculars; three no. a folding pocket pounds of rice; pounds of erbswurst; kodaks, sixty rolls of films, each roll pounds of prunes; a few packages of sealed in a tin can and waterproofed; six dried vegetables; some beef bouillon tab- watches, two of which were adjusted to lets; pounds of baking powder; sidereal time, loaned the expedition by the pounds of tea; pounds of coffee; waltham watch company. pounds of sugar; pounds of salt; a each man was provided with a sheath small amount of saccharin and crystallose, knife and a waterproof match-box, and his and pounds pemmican. personal kit containing a pair of blankets everything likely to be injured by "indians that trade at this post." the outing magazine water was packed in waterproof canvas throb of the engine my heart grew lighter. bags. i was not thinking of the perils i was to my friend dr. frederick a. cook, of the face with my new companions in that land arctic club, selected my medical kit, and where hubbard and i had suffered so instructed me in the use of its simple rem much. the young men with me were edies. it was also upon the recommenda filled with enthusiasm at the prospect of tion of dr. cook and others of my arctic adventure in the silent and mysterious club friends that i purchased the pemmi- country for which they were bound. can, which was designed as an emergency ration, and i may say here that one pound ii of pemmican, as our experience demon- strated, was equal to two or even three “when shall we reach rigolet, cap- pounds of any other food that we carried. tain?” we had planned to go north from st. “before daylight, i hopes, sir, if the fog johns on the labrador mail-boat virginia holds off, but there's a mist settling, and if lake, which, as i had been informed by it gits too thick, we may have to come to.” the reid-newfoundland company, was ex crowded with an unusual cargo of hu- pected to sail from st. johns on her first manity, fishermen going to their summer "tom blake and his family come out to welcome us." trip on or about june tenth. this made work on “the labrador" with their ac- it necessary for us to leave new york on companying tackle and household goods, the red cross line steamer rosalind, sail meeting with many vexatious delays in ing from brooklyn on may thirtieth; and discharging the men and goods at the when, at eleven-thirty that tuesday morn numerous ports of call, and impeded by ing, the rosalind cast loose from her wharf, fog and wind, the mail-boat virginia lake we and our outfit were aboard, and our had been much longer than is her wont on journey of eleven long months was begun. her trip "down north.” as i waved farewell to our friends ashore it was now june twenty-first. six days i recalled that other day two years be before (june fifteenth), when we boarded fore, when hubbard and i had stood on the ship at st. johns we had been informed the silvia's deck, and i said to myself: that the steamer harlow, with a cargo for "well, this, too, is hubbard's trip. his the lumber mills at kenemish, in gros- spirit is with me. it was he, not i, who water bay, was to leave halifax that very planned this labrador work, and if i succeed afternoon. she could save us a long and it will be because of him and his influence.” disagreeable trip in an open boat, ninety | was glad to be away. with every miles up groswater bay, and i had hoped the long labrador trail that we might reach rigolet in time to we had to wait but a moment, however, secure a passage for myself and party from for the information. the small boat was that point. but the harlow had no ports already alongside, and john groves, a of call to make, and it was predicted that goose bay trader and one of my friends of her passage from halifax to rigolet would two years before, clambered aboard and be made in four days. had me by the hand. i had no hope now of reaching rigolet “i'm glad to see you, sir; and how is before her, nor of finding her there, and, you?” resigned to my fate, i left the captain on assuring him that i was quite well, i the bridge and went below to my state asked the name of the other ship. room to rest until daylight. some time in "the harlow, sir, an' she's goin' to the night i was aroused by some one say- kenemish with daylight." ing: "well, i must get aboard of her then, "we're at rigolet, sir, and there's a ship and try to get a passage up. is your flat at anchor close by.” free, john, to take me aboard of her?” whether i had been asleep or not, i was “yes, sir. step right in, sir. but i fully awake now, and found that the cap thinks you'd better go ashore, for the tain had come to tell me of our arrival. harlow's purser's ashore. if you can't get the first rapid." the fog had held off and we had done much passage on the harlow my schooner's here better than the captain's prediction. hur- doing nothin' while i goes to st. johns for rying into my clothes, i went on deck, from goods, and i'll have my men run you up which, through the slight haze that hung to nor'west river.” over the water, i could discern the lights i thanked him and lost no time in going of a ship, and beyond, dimly visible, the ashore in his boat, where i found mr. james old familiar line of post buildings showing fraser, the factor, and received a hearty against the dark spruce-covered hills be welcome. in mr. fraser's office i found hind, where the great silent forest begins. also the purser of the harlow, and i quickly all was quiet save for the thud, thud, arranged with him for a passage to kene- thud of the oarlocks of a small boat ap mish, which is ninety miles up the inlet, proaching our ship and the dismal howl of and just across groswater bay (twelve a solitary "husky" dog somewhere ashore. miles) from northwest river post. the the captain had preceded me on deck, and harlow was to sail at daylight and i at in answer to my inquiries said he did not once returned to the mail-boat, called the know whether the stranger at anchor was boys and, with the help of the virginia's the harlow or not, but he thought it was. crew and one of their small boats, we the outing magazine were transferred, bag and baggage, to the we answered, and heading our boat toward harlow. the sound of continued “hellos,” found owing to customs complications the the men, with the canoes unloaded and harlow was later than expected in leaving hauled ashore, preparing to make a night rigolet, and it was evening before she camp. i joined them and, launching and dropped anchor at kenemish. i went reloading the canoes again, with richards ashore in the ship's boat and visited again and easton in one canoe and pete and i the lumber camp “cook-house” where dr. in the other, we followed fred and stan- hardy and i lay ill through those weary ton, who preceded us in the row-boat, keep- winter weeks, and where poor hardy died. ing our canoes religiously within ear-shot hardy was the young lumber company of fred's thumping oarlocks. finally the doctor who treated my frozen feet in the fog lifted, and not far away we caught a winter of - . here i met fred glimmer of lights at the french post. all blake, a northwest river trapper. fred was dark at the hudson bay post across had his flat, and i engaged him to take a the river when at last our canoes touched part of our luggage to northwest river. the sandy beach and we sprang ashore. then i returned to the ship to send the what a flood of remembrances came boys ahead with the canoes and some of our to me as i stepped again upon the old baggage, while i waited behind to follow familiar ground! how vividly i remem- with fred and the rest of the kit in his bered that june day two years before, when flat a half hour later. hubbard and i had first set foot on this fred and i were hardly a mile from the very ground and mackenzie had greeted ship when a heavy thunder-storm broke us so cordially! and also that other day upon us, and we were soon drenching wet in november when, ragged and starved, i -the baptism of our expedition. this came here to tell of hubbard, lying dead rain was followed by a dense fog and in the dark forest beyond! the same dogs early darkness. on and on we rowed, and that i had known then came running to i was berating myself for permitting the meet us now, the faithful fellows with men to go on so far ahead of us with the which i began that sad funeral journey canoes, for they did not know the way and homeward over the ice. i called some of the fog had completely shut out the lights them by name—“kumalik,” “bo'sun,” of the post buildings, which otherwise “captain,” “tinker,”—and they pushed would have been visible across the bay for their great heads against my legs and, i a considerable distance. believe, recognized me. suddenly through the fog and darkness, it was nearly two o'clock in the morning. from shoreward, came a "hello! hello!” we went immediately to the post house trician. pored up ! william ahsini's map of the route to lake michikamau. from left to right-wallace, easton, richards, stanton, "pete" and duncan. and roused out mr. stuart cotter, the in the olden time there were nearly a hun- agent (mackenzie is no longer there), and dred families of them, whose hunting- received from him a royal welcome. he ground was that section of country be- called his post servant and instructed him tween hamilton inlet and the upper george to bring in our things, and while we changed river. our dripping clothes for dry ones, his house these people now, for the most part, keeper prepared a light supper. it was hunt south of the inlet and trade at the st. five o'clock in the morning when i retired. lawrence posts. the chapel was erected in the previous autumn i had written about , but ten years ago the jesuit duncan mclean, one of the four men who missionary was withdrawn, and since then came to my rescue on the susan river, that the building has fallen into decay and ruin, should i ever come to labrador again and and the crosses that marked the graves in be in need of a man i would like to engage the old burying grounds have been broken him. cotter told me that duncan had down by the heavy winter snows. it was just come from his trapping path and was this withdrawal of the missionary that at the post kitchen, so when we had fin turned the indians to the southward where ished breakfast, at eight o'clock that morn priests are more easily found. the moun- ing, i saw duncan and, as he was quite taineer indian, unlike the nascaupee, is willing to go with us, i arranged with him very religious, and must, at least once a to accompany us a short distance into the year, meet his father-confessor. the old country to help us pack over the first port- camping ground, since the abandonment age and to bring back letters. of the mission, has lain lonely and de- he expressed a wish to visit his father serted, save for three or four families who, at kenemish before starting into the coun occasionally in the summer season, come try, but promised to be back the next back again to pitch their tents where their evening ready for the start on monday forefathers camped and held their annual morning, the twenty-sixth, and i consent feasts in the old days. ed. i knew hard work was before us, and competition between the trading com- as i wished all hands to be well rested panies at this point has raised the price of and fresh at the outset, i felt that a couple furs to such an extent that the few fami- of days' idleness would do us no harm. lies of indians that trade at this post are some five hundred yards east of mr. well-to-do and very independent. there cotter's house is an old, abandoned mission were two tents of them here when we ar- chapel, and behind it an indian burying rived-five men and several women and ground. the cleared space of level ground children. i found two of my old friends between the house and chapel was, for a there— john and william ahsini. they century or more, the camping ground of expressed pleasure in meeting me again, the mountaineer indians who come to the and a lively interest in our trip. with post each spring to barter or sell their furs. mr. cotter acting as interpreter, john made the outing magazine for me a map of the old indian trail from carry packs over hot portages. his sea- grand lake to seal lake and william, son's work was finished and he was to have a map to lake michikamau and over the a lazy summer in camp, and even my height of land to the george river, indi liberal offers of reward were not sufficient cating the portages and principal inter to move him. it is impossible to engage vening lakes as they remembered them. groswater bay indians to guide you. they seal lake is a large lake expansion of the are hunters, not guides. however, i was nascaupee river, which river, it should be glad to have their crude maps, as i hoped explained, is the outlet of lake michikamau these would be of some assistance to us in and discharges its waters into grand lake locating the long unused trail. of how and through grand lake into groswater much assistance they really were i shall bay. lake michikamau, next to lake leave the reader to judge for himself as he mistasinni, is the largest lake in the labra travels with us through the northward dor peninsula, and from eighty to ninety wastes. miles in length. neither john nor william during the day allen goudy and donald had been to lake michikamau by this blake, the two older members of the party route since they were young lads, but they that came to my rescue in the susan val- told us that the indians, when traveling ley in , called upon me and offered very light without their families, used to to go with me as far as seal lake, should i make the journey in twenty-three days. desire more help; but with duncan en- during my previous stay in labrador gaged i could not well use more men, one indian told me it could be done in ten as we had but two canoes, and therefore, days, while another, that indians traveling with regret, i declined their kind offers of very fast would require about thirty days. assistance. it is difficult to base calculations upon in it was not until the afternoon of the formation of this kind. but i was sure twenty-sixth (monday) that duncan re- that, with our comparatively heavy outfit, turned from kenemish and presented him- and the fact that we would have to find the self, and i decided to start at once and trail for ourselves, we should require at paddle to the "rapid" three miles above, least twice the time of the indians, who where we would spend the night with tom know every foot of the way as we know our blake and his family in their snug little log familiar city streets at home. cabin, and be ready for an early start up they expressed their belief that the old grand lake on the morrow. it was tom trail could be easily found, and assured us that headed the little party sent by me up that each portage, as we asked about it the susan valley to bring to the post hub- in detail, was a 'miam potagan” (good bard's body in march, ; and it was portage), but at the same time expressed through his perseverance, loyalty and hard their doubts as to our ability to cross the work at the time that i finally succeeded country safely. in recovering the body. tom's daughter, in fact, it has always been the indians' lillie, was mackenzie's little housekeeper, boast, and i have heard it many times, that who showed me so many kindnesses then. no white man could go from groswater bay the whole family, in fact, were very good to ungava alive without indians to help to me during those trying days, and i him through. “pete” was a lake supe count them among my true and loyal rior indian and had never run a rapid in his friends. life. he was only a young fellow, and we had supper with cotter, who sang these indians evidently had little faith in some hudson's bay songs, richards sang a his ability to see us through, and none of jolly college song or two, stanton a “clas- them believes that a white man can find sic,” and then all who could sing joined in his way alone. "auld lang syne." i made john and william gifts of “stem my thoughts were of another day, two mo” (tobacco) to put them in good humor, years before, when hubbard, so full of and then endeavored, with mr. cotter's as hope, had begun this same journey-of the sistance, to engage william to bring his sunshine and fleecy clouds and beckoning canoe and go with us as far as seal lake, fir-tops, and i wondered what was in store but it was no part of william's plan to for us now. (to be continued.) oliver kemp. of painting by oliver kemp conquering a northern rapid charles ruberl-starting from scratch. speed swimming the three recognized methods by l. de b. handley photographs by arthur hewitt t he evolution of the swimming many good coaches teach it as a stepping stroke has been so closely allied stone to the trudgeon and find the system with the history of racing as to highly satisfactory. have left the impression in the mind of the the belief generally held that to acquire a average individual that the so-called “speed speed stroke one must master the breast strokes" are adapted to competition only, stroke first, is incorrect. as a matter of and not at all practical for pleasure swim fact, the leg actions used in the various ming and bathing. strokes are so very unlike as to make it no more erroneous belief could be en much more sensible to start right in on the tertained. in the development of the one that has to be learned. those who stroke the object in view has ever been the have had experience in coaching will readily finding of a set of movements which would understand the reason of this. it is far enable one to obtain the greatest possible easier to teach a novice than to make an speed with the least expenditure of power. old timer change his method, for in the the up-to-date strokes, far from being too former case one has but to teach, while in punishing for the ordinary mortal, are the latter one has to correct first and then what he needs to properly enjoy swim teach. ming. the same amount of application whether a man be a swimmer or not, in which is necessary to master the breast taking up a new stroke he should begin stroke will enable one to learn the more with the leg movement only. in the side modern methods which insure more speed stroke it is called the scissor kick. to ac- and less exertion. quire it find a place with water at least three only three strokes are now recognized feet in depth, where you can use either a as standards: the side, the trudgeon and stationary or a floating support. take the crawl. all three are taught the world hold of this support and let your body rest over much in the same manner and may on the water, on its side, with legs straight be classed as distinct types. the side and well together and feet as if standing stroke is gradually disappearing and might on tiptoe. choose the side that feels most well be termed obsolete, were it not that comfortable. now proceed to open the "they're off.” speed swimming legs very slowly, not frog fashion, but front arm is being brought down, and should be and back, as in walking. the upper should exhaled through the nostrils, under water, be brought forward almost straight, the while the under arm goes forward. some under, back, bent to a kneeling position. find this impossible, even after long prac- when they are about two feet apart snap tice, and breathe in and out through the sharply together. mouth during the short period that the the faults to be obviated are: bending face is above water, but if one can acquire of the upper knee; opening the legs too the other way it is far the best. wide or too fast, and turning the feet up, the legs should be opened very slowly instead of down. in each of these faults a just as the under arm starts its recovery; large resisting surface is presented to the they should be snapped together when the water, which naturally retards speed. suf upper arm is in the middle of its stroke. ficient time should be spent at the kick to if properly timed the side stroke gives a acquire it thoroughly, then the arm can be started. the position of the body is unchanged. lie on your side, with body and legs in a straight line; both arms perpendic- ularly over your head and the palms turned slightly away from the face. bring upper arm down smartly, keeping it rigid at elbow and wrist, palm of hand open, fingers well together. carry it through the water just below the sur- ce, describing a semicircle to end at the thigh, then bend arm at the elbow and bring it forward well above water, until it is straight before you in the orig- inal position. the under arm should be started when the upper one is just about through with its stroke, and should be brought down with force, almost parallel to it, so that at the finish it brushes the lower thigh; then it is bent at the elbow like the other and brought forward just below the surface. the upper arm should rest on the water, at full reach, while the under one recovers, until it is at the c. m. daniels an exponent of the trudgeon, and an international winner at the olympic games. height of the head. the principal faults to be obviated are: clean, even progress, without a break or a reaching with the right arm in front of the check. left shoulder, and vice versa, as this propels let us recapitulate: upper arm first; the body in zig-zag fashion; bending the inhale while this arm is being snapped elbow while pulling, as it lessens the lever downward; legs fall in as the arm finishes; age and occasions loss of power; and hit under arm follows immediately afterward; ting the water with hand or arm on the re legs open slowly during recovery of under covery, as it retards progress. arm; air exhaled at the same time. the action of the arms, in the side stroke, in learning the trudgeon the swimmer entails a rolling motion of the body which lies flat on the water, face downward, body buries the face at every stroke. this ne straight, arms at full length above head cessitates an artificial way of breathing and perpendicular to shoulders, hands which has to be learned before the stroke open, palms downward, legs straight and can be swum properly. it is advisable to well together, toes pointing down. as make a special study of it. air should be most men find it more comfortable to swim inhaled through the mouth as the upper on the left side (right side up), let us take the outing magazine the stroke that way. to swim on the ence between the two lies in the recovery right, one has but to reverse the order of of the under arm, though of course this instructions. difference entails slight changes in the catch the water hard, with your right position of the body and in other details. hand slightly curved inward at the wrist, the third and most recent of strokes, and as you do so roll sufficiently on your the crawl, while taught in the same man- left side to bring your mouth above water ner pretty nearly everywhere, seems to take for a breath of air. bring the arm down on much of the individuality of the swim- just below the surface and almost parallel mer as he becomes proficient, and this has to it, until it touches the thigh, then bend led many of our experts to believe that we it at the elbow and carry it forward cleanly, have only found a type, out of which sev- well above the water until it is on the full eral distinct varieties will be evolved as reach again. we know it better. the left arm may be brought down either the present method of instruction is to like in the side stroke (parallel to the right start the swimmer with body flat on the the side stroke showing the scissor kick. one) or well out to the left, just below the water, as in the trudgeon, and to make surface. distance swimmers usually af him keep that way as much as possible, fect the former method, sprinters the lat twisting his head only, instead of the whole ter. as the left arm comes out of water, body, to take breath. the arms, how- the body returns to its original position, ever, are not held out at full length, but flat on its face, so as to enable the left arm rest on the water slightly bent at the el- to be brought forward clear of the water, bow, the hands at the height of the head. and remains so, until the arm is near the they are brought down with force until near full reach, when the right arm again starts the hip and then shot swiftly forward again on its downward course. without any pause. their action is alter- the same kick that is used in the side nate, and as the orbit described is shorter stroke, the scissor kick, is used in the trud than in the trudgeon, the time is naturally geon, and the entire timing of the two faster. in sprinting the "crawler” only strokes is identical. the only real differ breathes at every second or third stroke. answering the roll-call. the leg action can hardly be character- ized as a kick; it is merely an up-and- down thrash of the lower part of the legs from the knee. to acquire it, lie on the water as told above, with legs straight but not rigid, and toes pointing downward. now move them up and down alternately, so that they almost brush each other, hav- ing care to keep the upper part of the leg rigid. the movement should be from the knee down. at their widest spread the feet should not be more than sixteen or eighteen inches apart. their speed may vary accord- ing to the distance one is to travel. waiting for the start. the outing magazine in australia the legs are made to keep him many prizes, and success will amply time with the arms, but in america it has make up for them later. been found more satisfactory to make the most beginners consider racing a matter two movements absolutely independent of of strength and training only. they will each other. some of our fastest men seem work away at the fifty yards without a to use their legs simply to keep them from thought to form until they have mastered sinking. harmony of movement in the enough speed to enter a novice race, and crawl can only be acquired with practice. they begin their competitive career with no each man has so much individuality that other preparation. what is the result? general rules cannot be given. they win, eventually, and continue with in all that i have said above i have had their incorrect methods, never rising above in mind the great majority of men who the mediocrity of sprinters and, of course, swim only for pleasure and exercise, and never being able to negotiate the distances who have no thought of competing. never- at all. theless, let me assure the prospective com it is form that counts in swimming, and petitor that he will have to take up the without it even the most favored by nat- preliminary work in the very same manner. ure cannot attain proficiency. punishing i will here add a little advice that may help time trials should be scrupulously avoided him in his racing career. while one is learning a stroke. the temp- first of all, let me recommend to him tation is great to find out how fast one is not to attempt any fast work until he has going and what progress one has made, mastered the stroke thoroughly. a few but the swimmer should reflect that form months devoted to practice will not lose departs rapidly as the muscles get tired, the side stroke in action. the trudgeon in action. and then faults are accentuated and gradu as soon as the hand touches, it is placed ally become permanent. salt water is pref so as to get a purchase, and the body is erable to fresh to learn in. it has more swung around, following the direction of buoyancy and, as can readily be under the arm, until the feet come in contact with stood, the less effort required to keep afloat, the wall. then the under arm gives a the more energy left to devote to form. short, backward stroke so as to force the in racing, the dive and the turn are de body back until the knees are well bent, tails of great importance. a good dive the arms are brought quickly above the will give from one to three yards over a head, the legs are shot out hard, giving one bad one, and it is calculated that an expert a good shove-off, and the arms are set in turner gains about a second at each turn. motion again just as the body begins to this, incidentally, accounts for our indoor slow up. as in starting, no kick wants to records, made over a short course, being so be taken until the second stroke. much faster than the outdoor ones, made to seek the origin of the various strokes over long courses. to dive properly, try would mean to take up the history of to strike the water on a slant, with head swimming from its birth, for each is but a erect and arms well up, so as to just skim phase of a continuous evolution. and at the water and remain on top, ready for that, history is not very clear on the time the first stroke as soon as the body begins and author of the various phases. the to lose its impetus. do not use the legs side stroke in its present form was first in- until the second arm stroke. troduced to the public by joey nuttall, an to turn effectively the swimmer should englishman, who for many years was con- calculate the length of his strokes in ap sidered the best all 'round swimmer in the proaching the wall so as to reach it with world. he it was who, with the help of his upper arm extended above the head. j. h. tyers, another celebrity, is supposed the outing magazine to have discovered the scissor kick. they other englishman, who gave it his name. adapted it to the arm stroke then used by although he is looked upon as the inven- champion horace davenport, the origi tor, it is no secret that he copied it from nator of the single overarm, and evolved the indians of south america. he did the side stroke. it had a long life in eng excellent work with it and won many good land, and some of the fast men swim it to races, but it was left to an australian, this day. nuttall, who still holds some alfred holmes, of balmain, to make it world's records, never knew any other. famous. he used it in establishing his in america the side has had several world's record of minute . - seconds famous exponents. donald reeder, for the hundred yards. many-time champion and record holder, at the time of its appearance the trudg- a in the wake of the ''crawl." was one of them, as was fred wenck, who eon was condemned as too punishing for a won the mile championship twice in suc distance stroke. fred lane, a country- cession with it, establishing new figures for man of holmes's, decided that it was not the distance each time. joseph spencer, and set out to prove it. this he did and winner of the indoor mile championship to him is given credit for the improvement last february, used it in that race and so of the scissor kick. previously, the upper did brewer, the great california swimmer, leg was drawn up bent until the knee al- in making all his records. until a few most touched the chin, thus killing abso- years ago the side was the only racing lutely the momentum of the body. lane stroke we knew of. modified it by straightening out the leg the trudgeon, which superseded it, was and decreasing the width of the kick. the brought to light by one trudgeon, an success of the innovation is vouched (or by speed swimming his records. not only did he bring the he had negotiated the one hundred yards one hundred-yard figures down to - in seconds, and after wickham had gone seconds, but he used the trudgeon for all fifty yards in - seconds the stroke's distances up to the mile, proving the fallacy popularity was assured. of the belief that it was a sprinting stroke here in america we didn't adopt the only. crawl until the fall of , but we have in america the trudgeon did not become made up for lost time since. the crawl known until about . to its appear fever spread like wild-fire and the way ance are probably due the sterling per- sprinting records were slaughtered was a formances of e. c. schaeffer. not only revelation. jack lawrence, george van did he win all five of the classic national cleaf, bud goodwin and ted kitching championships of with it, but he tore were the ones who first succeeded in lower- down every record in sight, proving him- ing standing marks with it, but hundreds self the best all 'round swimmer america adopted it and not a case is known in which had ever produced. it did not bring an increase of speed. after schaeffer came harry lemoyne, the old cry of “fake stroke, only good of the brookline swimming club, who for short sprints," was raised again, of covered one hundred yards in - sec course, as soon as it was shown in public, onds with it and gave rise to the hope that but it did not take long to silence it. we would soon overtake england in the kitching managed to hold it for one hun- sprints. next was charles ruberl, of the dred yards, goodwin covered two hundred new york athletic club, who took almost and twenty first and then the four hundred every championship in ; and finally and forty with it, and then out came h. j. his clubmate, c. m. daniels, who may well handy of chicago in the outdoor cham- be looked upon as the best american ex pionships and negotiated both the half ponent of the trudgeon. although daniels mile and mile with it. now uses the crawl for sprinting he has made that the crawl is the only stroke of the most of his records with the trudgeon, and future is believed by many. otto wahle, from a hundred yards to a mile no standards our leading light in matters aquatic, fore- were proof against him while he swam it. told it from its first appearance. “mark and now to the crawl, the stroke of the my words,” he said to me during the winter future. it had a peculiar origin and is of , “the crawl has come to stay, and really the fruit of chance, rather than of it is the only stroke worth bothering about. study. some years ago a fifty-yard race let's take it up seriously and study it care- was arranged at sydney, n. s. w., be- fully; in a few years' time there will be no tween tums cavill, a member of the fa- place in racing for those who don't swim mous family of swimmers, and syd. davis. it, and if we want to hold our lead we must to equalize the chances cavill had agreed make every one of our boys adopt it.” in to swim with legs tied. notwithstanding the light of later developments his words this, he won easily, only to go down to de sound prophetic. in the great carnival feat, later, after his feet had been untied. held at the new york athletic club last this led to a deal of comment, of course, february, when records fell by the score, until some time trials demonstrated be it was noticed that almost to a man the yond a doubt that tums could really swim fifty-yarders swam the crawl, and that the fifty yards faster without the use of his legs. three fastest hundred-yarders, daniels, dick cavill, who saw race and trials, nat schwartz and leary, also used it. the urally concluded that the leg drive must two former also held it over most of the be defective, and he began some quiet ex two hundred and twenty yards, and in all periments with the straight-legged kick three of these events the standards were used by the natives of colombo and in lowered. the work of our swimmers in troduced into competition by alex. wick the tournament showed conclusively that ham, a colored lad from rubiana. we are advancing irresistibly toward the the experiments were unexpectedly suc time when america will be the foremost cessful, and after cavill had found an arm country of the world in aquatics, and that motion that would harmonize with the it is by the crawl stroke that we will ac- kick he progressed rapidly. before long complish this. homer tries a rest cure by sewell ford illustrated by may wilson preston ay, i've been mixed up in some dizzy doin's along the grub track, but i s guess this last turn of mine gets the decision. if i had to give it a name i'd call it “plug- gin' a leak, though mr. dodge, he holds out for "the revised odyssey.” but then, dodge is great on fancy names anyway, and i don't see where this one comes in. it was a heap more than odd, this stunt of ours. mr. leonidas dodge — that's how it shows up on the event card—he rung me into this. i wouldn't have picked it up by myself any more than i'd have broke into the salvation army. trainin' comers to go against the champs is my reg'lar pro- fession, and i've handled some good men, too. why, say, there's been times when i could flash a wad as big as a bookie's. but the day i met up with leonidas wasn't one of them times. i'd been up against it for two months when some one passes me the word that butterfly was down to win the third race at to . now as a general thing i don't monkey with the ponies, but when i figured up what a few saw-bucks would do for me at those odds i makes for the track and takes the high dive. after it was all over and i was comin' back in the train, with only a ticket where my roll had been, me feelin' about as gay as a zulu on a cake of ice, along comes this mr. dodge, that i didn't know from next tuesday week. “is it as bad as that?” says he, sizin' up the woe on my face. “because if it is they ought to give you a pension. what was the horse?” "butterfly,” says i. "now laugh!" "i've got a right to,” says he. “i had the same dope." well, you see, that made us almost sec- ond cousins by marriage and we started to get acquainted. i looked him over care- ful, but i couldn't place him within a mile. he had points enough, too. the silk hat was a veteran, the prince albert dated back about four seasons, but the gray gaiters were down to the minute. being an easy talker, he might have been a book agent or a green goods distributer. but somehow his eyes didn't seem shifty enough for a crook, and no con. man would have lasted long wearing the kind of hair that he did. it was sort of a lemon yellow, and he had a lip decoration about two shades lighter, taggin' him as plain as an “inspected” label on a tin trunk. “i'm a mitt juggler,” says i, “and they call me shorty mccabe. what's your line?” “i've heard of you,” he says. “permit me," and he hands out a pasteboard that read: leonidas macklin dodge commissioner-at-large “for what?” says i. “it all depends," says mr. dodge. “sometimes i call it a brass polisher, then again it's a tooth paste. it works well either way. also it cleans silver, removes grease spots, and can be used for a shaving soap. it is a product of my own lab'ra- tory, none genuine without the signature." “how does it go as a substitute for beef and?” says i. “i've never quite come to that,” says he, “but i'm as close now as it's com- fortable to be. my gold reserve counts up about a dollar thirty-nine." homer tries a rest cure “you've got me beat by a whole dollar," three rooms, for single gents only. course, says i. we hadn't no more call to go there than to “then,” says he, “you'd better let me the stock exchange, but leonidas mack- underwrite your next issue.” lin, he's one of the kind that don't wait “there's a friend of mine up to forty- for cards. seein' the front door open and second street that ought to be good for a crowd of men in the hall, he blazes right fifty,” says i. in, silk hat on the back of his head, hands “i've had lots of friendships, off and in his pockets, and me close behind with on,” says he, “but never one that i could the bag. cash in at a pinch. i'll stay by until you “what's up; auction, row or accident?” try your touch.” says he to one of the mob. well, the forty-second street man had now if it had been me that butted in been gone a month. there was others like that i'd had a row on my hands in i might have tried, but i didn't like to about two minutes, but in less time than risk gettin' my fingers frost-bitten. so i that leonidas knows the whole story and hooks up with leonidas and we goes out is right to home. taking me behind a with a grip full of electrico-polisho, hittin' hand-made palm, he puts me next. seems the places where they had nickel-plated that some one had advertised in a mornin' signs and brass hand rails. and say! i paper for a refined, high-browed person to could starve to death doin' that. give me help one of the same kind kill time at a a week and two pairs of shoes and i might big salary. sell a box or so; but dodge, he takes an 'and look what he gets,” says leonidas, hour to work his side of the block and wavin' his hand at the push. “there's shakes out a fist full of quarters. more'n a hundred of 'em, and not more'n “it's an art,” says he, “which one must a dozen that you couldn't trace back to a be born to. after this you carry the grip.” mills hotel. 'they've been jawing away that's the part i was playin' when we for an hour, trying to settle who gets the strikes the tuscarora. sounds like a par cinch. the chap who did the advertising lor car, don't it? but it was just one of is inside there, in the middle of that bunch, those swell bachelor joints-fourteen sto and i reckon he wishes he hadn't. as ries, electric elevators, suites of two and an act of charity, shorty, i'm going to maylwelson preston "this gentleman is a wholly disinterested party, and he's a particular friend of mine." the outing magazine straighten things out for him. come was telling him how he'd won the piano on." at a church raffle: “don't say a word; “better call up the reserves,” says i. to-morrow at ten." they all got the same, but that wa'n't mr. dodge's style. even to the hickey-boy shoulder pat as he side-steppin' around to the off edge of passed 'em out, and every last one 'em the crowd, just as if he'd come down from faded away trying to keep from lookin' the elevator, he calls out good and loud: tickled to death. it took twenty minutes "now then, gentlemen; one side, please, by the watch. one side! ah, thank you! in a moment, “now, mr. fales," says leonidas, comin' now, gentlemen, we'll get down to busi to a parade rest in front of the chair, “next ness. time you want to play santa claus to the and say, they opened up for us like it unemployed i'd advise you to hire madi- was pay day and he had the cash box. son square garden to receive in." we brought up before the saddest-lookin' that seemed to put a little life into cuss i ever saw out of bed. i couldn't homer. he hitched himself up off'n the make out whether he was sick, or scared, middle of his backbone, pulled in a yard or both. he had flopped in a big leather or two of long legs and pried his eyes open. chair and was tryin' to wave 'em away you couldn't call him handsome and prove with both hands, while about two dozen, it. he had one of those long, two-by-four lookin' like ex-bath rubbers or men nurses, faces, with more nose than chin, and a pair were telling him how good they were and of inset eyes that seemed built to look for shovin' references at him. the rest of the grief. the corners of his mouth were gang was trying to push in for their whack. sagged, and his complexion made you think it was a bad mess, but leonidas wasn't of cheese pie. but he was still alive. feazed a bit. “you've overlooked one,” says he, and “attention, gentlemen!” says he. “if points my way. “he wouldn't do at all. you will all retire to the room on the left send him off, too." we will get to work. the room on the "that's where you're wrong, mr. fales," left, gentlemen, on the left!” says leonidas. “this gentleman is a he had a good voice, leonidas did, one wholly disinterested party, and he's a of the kind that could go against a merry particular friend of mine. professor mc- go-round or a german band. the crowd cabe, let me introduce mr. homer stopped pushin' to listen, then some one fales.” made a break for the next room, and in so i came to the front and gave homer's less than a minute they were all in there, flipper a little squeeze that must have done with the door shut between. mr. dodge him as much good as an electric treatment, tips me the wink and sails over to the by the way he squirmed. specimen in the chair. “if you ever feel ambitious for a little “you're mr. homer fales, i take it," six-ounce glove exercise," says , "just let me know. "i am," says the pale one, breathing “thanks,” says he, “thanks very much. hard, “and who—who the devil are you?” but i'm an invalid, you see. in fact, i'm “that's neither here nor there,” says a very sick man." leonidas. "just now i'm a life-boat. do “about three rounds a' day would put you want to hire any of those fellows? if you on your feet,” says i. “there's noth- in' like it.” “no, no, no!” says homer, shakin' as he kind of shuddered and turned to if he had a chill. “send them all away, leonidas. “you are certain that those will you? they have nearly killed me." men will not return, are you?” says he. “away they go, says leonidas. “not before to-morrow at ten. you “watch me do it.” can be out then, you know,” says mr. first he has me go in with his hat and dodge. collect their cards. then i calls 'em out, "to-morrow at ten!” says homer, and one by one, while he stands by to give slumps again, all in a heap. “oh, this is each one the long-lost brother grip and awful!” he groans. “i couldn't survive whisper in his ear, as confidential as if he another!” says he. so ” homer tries a rest cure excuse. it that way. was. it was the worst case of funk i ever saw. he gave us a diagram of exactly the kind we put in an hour trying to brace him up, of man he wanted, and from his plans and but not until we'd promised to stay by specifications we figured out that what over night could we get him to breathe homer was looking for was a cross between deep. then he was as grateful as if we'd a galley slave and a he-angel, some one who pulled him out of the river. we half lugs would know just what he wanted before him over to the elevator and takes him up he did, and be ready to hand it out when- to his quarters. it wasn't any cheap hang ever called for. and he was game to pay out, either-nothing but silk rugs on the the price, whatever it might be. floor and parlor furniture all over the shop. “you see,” says homer, "whenever we had dinner served up there, and it was make the least exertion, or undergo the a feed to dream about-oysters, ruddy slightest excitement, it aggravates the duck, filly of beef with mushrooms, and leak.” all the frills—while homer worries along i'd seen lots who ducked all kinds of ex- on a few toasted crackers and a cup of ertion, but mighty few with so slick an weak tea. it would have done me good to as leonidas and me does the anti-famine have said so, but leonidas didn't look at act homer unloads his hard-luck wheeze. he was a sympathizer from he was the best sample of an all-round headquarters; seemed to like nothin' bet- invalid i ever stacked up against. he ter'n to hear homer tell how bad off he didn't go in for no half-way business; it was neck or nothing with him. he wasn't "what you need, fales," says leonidas, on the hospital list one day and humping “is the country, the calm, peaceful coun- the bumps the next. he was what you try. i know a nice, quiet little place, might call a consistent sufferer. about a hundred miles from here, that 'it's my heart mostly,” says he. “i think there's a leak in one of the valves. the doctors lay it to nerves, some of them, but i'm certain about the leak.” “why not call in a plumber?" says i. but you couldn't chirk him up that way. he'd believed in that leaky heart of his for years. it was his stock in trade. as near as i could make out he'd begun being an invalid about the time he should have been hunting a job, and he'd always had some one to back him up in it until about two months before we met him. first it was his mother, and when she gave out his old maid sister took her turn. her name was joyphena. he told us all about her; how she used to fan him when he was hot, wrap him up when he was cold, and read to him when she couldn't think of anything else to do. but one day joyphena was thoughtless enough to go off somewhere and quit living. you could see that homer wouldn't ever quite forgive her for that. it was when homer tried to find a sub- stitute for joyphena that his troubles be- gan. he'd had all kinds of nurses, but the good ones wouldn't stay and the bad ones he'd fired. he'd tried valets, too, but none of 'em seemed to suit. then he got des- perate and wrote out that ad. that brought "all she wanted was to make homer wrap a shawl the mob down on him. around his head to keep out the night air.' may eren presti the outing magazine would just suit you, and if you say the shoved him up to a table where there was word i'll ship you off down there early to a hungry man's layout of clam fritters, morrow morning. i'll give you a letter to canned corn, boiled potatoes and hot mince an old lady who'll take care of you better pie. than four trained nurses. she has brought there wasn't any use for homer to regis- half a dozen children through all kinds of ter a kick on the bill-of-fare. she was too sickness, from measles to broken necks, busy tellin' him how much good the things and she's never quite so contented as when would do him, and how he must eat a lot she's trotting around waiting on somebody. or she'd feel bad, to listen to any remarks i stopped there once when i was a little of his about toasted crackers. for supper hoarse from a cold, and before she'd let me there was fried fish, apple sauce and hot go to bed she made me drink a bowl of gin biscuit, and homer had to take his share. ger tea, soak my feet in hot mustard water, he was glad to go to bed early. she didn't and bind a salt pork poultice around my object to that. neck. if you'd just go down there you'd mother bickell's house was right in the both be happy. what do you say?" middle of the town, with a grocery store on homer was doubtful. he'd never lived one side and the post-office on the other. much in the country and was afraid it homer had a big front room with three wouldn't agree with his leak. but early windows on main street. there was a in the morning he was up wantin' to know strip of plank sidewalk in front of the house, more about it. he'd begun to think of so that you didn't miss any footfalls. that mob of snap hunters that was booked mother bickell could tell who was goin' by to show up again at ten o'clock, and it without lookin'. made him nervous. before breakfast was leonidas and me put in the evening over he was willing to go almost anywhere, hearin' her tell about some of the things only he was dead set that me and leonidas that had happened to her oldest boy. he'd should trail along, too. so there we were, had a whirl out of most everything but an with homer on our hands. earthquake. after that we had an account well, we packed a trunk for him, called of how she'd buried her two husbands. a cab, and got him loaded on a parlor car. about ten o'clock we started for bed, about every so often he'd clap his hands to droppin' in to take a look at homer. he his side and groan: “oh, my heart! my was sittin' up, wide awake and lookin' poor heart!” it was as touchin' as the worried. heroine's speeches to the top gallery. on “how many people are there in this the way down leonidas gave us a bird's town?” says he. eye view of the kind of jim crow settlement “about a thousand,” says leonidas. we were heading for. it was one of those “why?" places where they date things back to the “then they have all marched past my time when lem saunders fell down cellar windows twice,” says homer. with a lamp and set the house afire. “shouldn't wonder,” says leonidas. the town looked it. there was an ag “they've just been to the post-office and gregation of three men, two boys and a back again. they do that four times a yellow dog in sight on main street when we day. but you mustn't mind. just you landed. we'd wired ahead, so the old lady thank your stars you're down here where was ready for us. leonidas called her it's nice and quiet. now i'd go to sleep if “mother" bickell. she was short, about i was you. as thick through as a sugar barrel, and homer said he would. i was ready to wore two kinds of hair, the front frizzes tear off a few yards of repose myself, but bein' a lovely chestnut. but she was a somehow i couldn't connect. it was quiet, nice-spoken old girl, and when she found all right — in spots. fact is, it was so out that we'd brought along a genuine blamed quiet that you could hear every invalid with a leak in his blood pump, she rooster that crowed within half a mile. if almost fell on our necks. in about two a man on the other side of town shut a win- shakes she'd hustled homer into a rocking dow you knew all about it. chair, wedged him in place with pillows, i was gettin' there, though, and was al- wrapped a blanket around his feet, and most up to the droppin'-off place, when homer tries a rest cure “i was, an some folks in a back room on the next street “yes, and he'll tell you it was just be- begins to indulge in a family argument. i fore thanksgivin' of ' , so what's the didn't pay much notice to the preamble, use?” says the old lady but as they warmed up to it i couldn't help “we'll see what he says,” growls the old from gettin' the drift. it was all about the man, and i heard him strike a light and get time of year that a feller by the name of into his shoes. hen dorsett had been run over by the cars "who're you bettin' on?" says leonidas. up to jersey city. “gee!" says i. "are you awake, too? "i say it was just before thanksgivin', i thought you was asleep an hour ago.” pipes up the old lady. "i know, 'cause i says he, “but when this hen was into the butcher's askin' what turkeys dorsett debate breaks loose i came back would be likely to fetch, when doc brews to earth. i'll gamble that the old woman's water drops in and says: "mornin', eph. right.” heard about hen dorsett?' and then he "the old man's mighty positive,” says told about him fallin' under the cars. so . “wonder how long it ’ll be before we it must have been get the returns?" just afore thanks- “perhaps half givin'.” hour," says "thanksgivin' leonidas. "he'll yer grandmother!" have to thrash it growls the old all out with ase man. “it was in before he starts march, along the back. we might second week, i as well sit up and should say, be- wait. anyway cause the day ! want to see which heard of it was lf ( *% gets the best of just after school muna it.” election. march “let's have a of ' , that's when d. smoke, then," it was. "eighty-three!" "why not go squeals the old along with the old lady. “are you man?" says l.eon- losin' your mind idas. “if he finds altogether? it was he's wrong he may ' , the year jim- ball come back and lie my cut his hand may whom preston about it." so bad at the saw- .-'it's right over in this section,' says he, wavin' his lantern." well, it was a mill." fool thing to do, "jimmy wasn't workin' at the mill that when you think about it, but somehow leon- year,” raps back the old man. “he was idas had a way of lookin' at things that was tongin' oysters that fall, 'cause he didn't different from other folks. he didn't know hear a word about hen until the next fri any more about that there hen dorsett than day night, when i told him myself. hen i did, but he seemed just as keen as if it was was killed on a monday.” all in the family. we had hustled our “it was on a saturday or i'm a lunatic,” clothes on and was sneakin' down the front snaps the old lady. stairs as easy as we could when we hears well, they kept on pilin' up evidence, from homer. each one makin' the other out to be a fool, “i heard you dressing,” says he, “so i or a liar, or both, until the old man says: got up, too. i haven't been asleep yet. “see here, maria, i'm goin' up the street “then come along with us,” says leoni- and ask ase horner when it was that hen das. “it'll do you good. we're only go- dorsett was killed. ase knows, for he was ing up the street to find out when it was the one mrs. dorsett got to go up after that the cars struck hen dorsett.” hen." homer didn't savvy, but he didn't care. اور ( ) says i. the outing magazine up after us. mainly he wanted comp’ny. he whispered to us to go easy, suspectin' that if we woke up mother bickell she'd want to feed him some more clam fritters. by the time we'd unlocked the front door, though, she was after us, but all she wanted was to make homer wrap a shawl around his head to keep out the night air. “and don't you dare take it off until you get back," says she. homer was glad to get away so easy and said he wouldn't. but he was a sight, lookin' like a turk with a sore throat. the old man had routed ase horner out by the time we got there, and they was havin' it hot and heavy. ase said it wasn't either november nor march when he went up after hen dorsett, but the middle of october. he knew because he'd just begun shinglin' his kitchen and the line storm came along before he got it finished. more'n that, it was in ' , for that was the year he ran for sheriff. “see here, gentlemen,” says leonidas, “isn't it possible to find some official record of this sad tragedy? you'll excuse us, be- ing strangers, for takin' a hand, but there don't seem to be much show of our getting any sleep until this thing is settled. be- sides, i'd like to know myself. now let's go to the records." “i'm ready," says ase. “if this thick- headed old idiot here don't think i can re- member back a few years, why, i'm willing to stay up all night to show him. let's go to the county clerk's and make him open “of course there is!” says ase horner. “why didn't we think of that first off? i'll get a lantern and we'll go up and read the date on the headstun.' there was six of us lined for the ceme- tery, the three natives jawin' away as to who was right and who wasn't. every little ways some one would hear the racket, throw up a window, and chip in. most of 'em asked us to wait until they could dress and join the procession. before we'd gone half a mile it looked like a torchlight par- ade. the bigger the crowd got, the faster the recruits fell in. folks didn't stop to ask any questions. they just jumped into their clothes, grabbed lanterns and piked there was men and women and children, not to mention a good many dogs. every one was jabberin' away, some askin' what it was all about and the rest tryin' to explain. there must have been a good many wild guesses, for i heard one old feller in the rear rank squallin' out: “re- member, neighbors, nothin'rash, now; nothin' rash!” i couldn't figure out just what they meant by that at the time; but then, the whole business didn't seem any too sensi- ble, so i didn't bother. on the way up i'd sort of fell in with the constable. he couldn't get any one else to listen to him, and as he had a lot of unused conversation on hand i let him spiel it off at me. leoni- das and homer were ahead with ase hor- ner and the old duffer that started the row, and the debate was still goin' on. when we got to the cemetery homer dropped out and leaned up against the gate, sayin' he'd wait there for us. we piled after ase, who'd made a dash to get to the headstone first. “it's right over in this section,” says he, wavin' his lantern, “and i want all of you to come and see that i know what i'm talk- ing about when i give out dates. i want to show you, by ginger, that i've got a mem’ry that's better'n' any diary ever wrote. here we are now! here's the grave and—well, durn my eyes! blessed if there's any sign of a headstun here!” and there wa’n’t, either. “by jinks!” says the old constable, slappin' his leg. “that's one on me, boys. why, lizzie dorsett told me only last week that her mother had the stun took up and sent away to have the name of her second up.” vas so we started, all five of us, just as the town clock struck twelve. we hadn't gone more'n a block, though, before we met a whiskered old relic stumpin' along with a stick in his hand. he was the police force, it seems. course, he wanted to know what was up, and when he found out, he ready to make affidavit that hen had been killed some time in august of ' . “wa’n't i one of the pall bearers?” says he. “and hadn't i just drawn my back pension and paid off the mortgage on my place, eh? no use routin' out the clerk to ask such a fool question; and anyways, he ain't to home, come to think of it.” “if you'll permit me to suggest, says leonidas, "there ought to be all the evi- dence needed right in the cemetery.” homer tries a rest cure ) husband cut on't. only last week she told me, and here i'd clean forgot it. “you're an old billy goat!” says ase horner. “there, there!” says leonidas, soothing him down. “we've all enjoyed the walk, anyway, and maybe—” but just then he hears something that makes him prick up his ears. “what's the row back there at the gate?” he asks. then, turnin' to me, he says: "shorty, where's homer?” “down there,” says i. “then come along on the jump,” says he. “if there's any trouble lying around loose he'll get into it.” down by the gate we could see lanterns by the dozen and we could hear all sorts of yells and excitement, so we makes our move on the double. just as we fetched the gate some one hollers: “there he goes! lynch the villain!" we sees a couple of long legs strike out, and gets a glimpse of a head wrapped up in a shawl. it was homer, all right, and he had the gang after him. he took a four- foot fence at a hurdle and was streakin' off through a plowed field into the dark. “hi, fales!” sings out leonidas. "come back here, you chump!" but homer kept right on. maybe he didn't hear, and perhaps he was too scared to stop if he did. all we could do was to get into the free-for-all with the others. “what did he do?” yells leonidas at a sandy-whiskered man who carried a clothes line and was shoutin', "lynch him! lynch him!” between jumps. “do!” says the heard? why, he choked mother. bickell to death and robbed her of seventeen dol- lars. he's wearin' her shawl now.” as near as we could make out, the thing happened like this: when the tail enders came rushin' up with all kinds of wild yarns about robbers and such they catches sight of homer, leanin' up in the shadow of the gate. some one holds a lantern up to his face and an old woman spots the shawl. "it's mother bickell's," says she. . “where did he get it?” that was enough. they went for ho- mer like he'd set fire to a synagogue. homer tried to tell 'em who he was, and about his heart, but he talked too slow, or his voice wa'n't strong enough; and when they began to plan on yankin' him up then and there, without printin' his picture in the paper, or a trial, he heaves up a yell and lights out for the boarding-house. ten hours before i wouldn't have matched homer against a one-legged man, but the way he was gettin' over the ground then was worth the price of admission. i've done a little track work myself, and leonidas didn't show up for any glue-foot, but homer would have made the tape ahead of us for any distance under two miles. he'd cleared the crowd and was back into the road again, travelin' wide and free, with the shawl streamin' out be- hind and the nearest avenger two blocks behind us, when out jumps a johnny-on- the-spot citizen and gives him the low tackle. he was a pussy, bald-headed little duffer, this citizen chap, and not be- in' used to blockin' runs he goes down underneath. before they could untangle we comes up, snakes homer off the top of the heap, and skiddoos for all we has left in us. by the time that crowd of jay-hawkers comes boomin' down to mother bickell's to view the remains we had the old girl up and settin' at the front window with a light behind her. they asked each other a lot of foolish questions and then concluded to man. “ain't you go home. while things was quietin' down we were making a grand rush to get homer into bed before he passed in altogether. neither leonidas nor me looked fo to last more'n an hour or two after that stunt, and we were thinkin' of taking him back in a the outing magazine box. but after he got his breath he didn't "how far was it that i ran last night, say much except that he was plumb tired. mr. dodge?" says he. we were still wonderin' whether to send “about a mile and a half,' says leoni- for a doctor or the coroner when he rolls das, stating it generous. “and it was as over with his face to the wall and goes good amateur sprinting as i ever saw. to sleep as comfortable as a kitten in a homer cracked the first smile i'd seen basket. him tackle and pulled up to the table. it was the middle of the forenoon before "i'm beginning to think,” says he, "that any of us shows up for breakfast. we'd there can't be much of a leak in my heart, inspected homer once, about eight o'clock, after all. when we get back to town to- and found him still sawin' wood, so we night, mr. mccabe, we'll have another talk didn't try to get him up. but just as i was about those boxing lessons. eggs? yes, openin' my second egg down he comes, thank you, mrs. bickell; about four, soft. walkin' a little stiff, but otherwise as good and by the way, dodge, what was the date as ever, if not better. on that gravestone, anyway?" a song of sun and summer by elizabeth roberts macdonald now shimmering waves of fairy bloom across the meadows break and run, and all the good brown earth is glad beneath the glory of the sun. in bubbles blown of crystal sound the tinkling bird-notes ring and fall, and silvery echoes answer clear · when summer's elfin bugles call. through sheen and shadow, flower and song, the halcyon hours uncounted fly, while height on height above us lifts an azure miracle of sky. a courier from the north by ernest russell a t irregular intervals in each twelve or if it is autumn which witnesses the month appears in my daily packet coming of this message from the north, of letters an envelope whose un how surely my imagination responds to heralded arrival commands my instant at its magic influence! not aladdin's lamp tention. consideration of its contents takes could more clearly visualize the brilliant precedence over the morning paper, side carpet of the trail, the cleft footprint in tracks important correspondence, oblit the moss, the thin column of pale blue erates the world of business. its coming smoke that marks the “home camp.” signalizes an event. it contains a letter under the influence of this mere bit of from my guide. paper i hear again the weird and solitary the form in which it appears is as erratic laughter of the loon, the suck of mocca- as the period which separates it from its sined feet on the portage, the whistle of predecessor. it varies in shape and size ducks' wings overhead, the echo of the from the oblong to the square, in color moose call through a silent forest. from dead white or "cream-laid” to the if the mere presence of this vagrant vis- most fashionable dark blue. the only fea itor be so potent and so productive of tures of its appearance which remain con delightful memories, how immeasurably stant and invariable are the bright-hued greater are the effects of its perusal. and stamp of canada and the labored, penciled here, for clearer understanding of my scrawl which guides its travels to my desk. musings, let me spread before you in its it is seldom spotless and the line of the entirety the impelling cause: gummed flap upon the back is usually “yours just to hand finds all in good marked by the pressure of strong and not helth and glad to kno your famly enjoy over-clean hands. yet the eye which notes the same grate blesing i went away the these familiar characteristics of outward day of sept and come hoam last night we appearance is not unkindly critical. it went in by the planes with the ox team understands. it is appreciative. sech goin it hed raned a hole week but the attitude of mind which accom clered cool and cam the wensday i called panies the opening of this important com big bulls in the midell of the big boug munication is a study in itself and varies boath come up the same time and the man with the season which looks upon its com from boston shot shots at the boath as ing. if it is spring there surges through they went away unharmed i hed promis a gladly wakened memory the rush of not to shoot they was a yung bull squelin swollen waters, the smell of moist earth and round the camp all nite we follered the the faint perfume of flowers. there leap nine mile redge and picked up the canoe on into present reality the dash of the canoe fraser stream where you ketched the fore through quick water, the ecstasy of the pounder we made the long portage sunday successful cast, the apparition of the star and see big tracks all the way i never see tled moose around the bend. through it all, so mutch bear works on the riges i seen i elusive, evanescent, not detracting from the he was in a hury next spring i will tend to glow of retrospect, throbs the hum of insects, them the carbou hes moved agen thursday sifts in the pungent odor of the smudge, we wus to the burnt lands near the uper patters the thin rain upon the canvas. camp i called a ole stager up to paces i for like a butterfly blown far to sea." painting by william g. krieghoff. white fang* by jack london illustrated by frank e. schoonover part iv.-the superior gods the enemy of his kind h chapter i one cannot violate the promptings of one's nature without having that nature recoil upon itself. such a recoil is like ad there been in white fang's na that of a hair, made to grow out from the ture any possibility, no matter body, turning unnaturally upon the direc- how remote, of his ever coming tion of its growth and growing into the to fraternize with his kind, such possibility body-a rankling, festering thing of hurt. was irretrievably destroyed when he was and so with white fang. every urge of made leader of the sled-team. for now his being impelled him to spring upon the the dogs hated him—hated him for the pack that cried at his heels, but it was the extra meat bestowed upon him by mit-sah; will of the gods that this should not be; hated him for all the real and fancied favors and behind the will, to enforce it, was the he received; hated him for that he fled whip of cariboo-gut with its biting thirty- .always at the head of the team, his waving foot lash. so white fang could only eat brush of a tail and his perpetually retreat his heart in bitterness and develop a hạtred ing hind-quarters forever maddening their and malice commensurate with the ferocity eyes. and indomitability of his nature. and white fang just as bitterly hated if ever a creature was the enemy of its them back. being sled leader was any kind, white fang was that creature. he thing but gratifying to him. to be com asked no quarter, gave none. he was con- pelled to run away before the yelling pack, tinually marred and scarred by the teeth every dog of which, for three years, he had of the pack, and as continually he left his thrashed and mastered, was almost more own marks upon the pack. unlike most than he could endure. but endure it he leaders, who, when camp was made and must, or perish, and the life that was in the dogs were unhitched, huddled near to him had no desire to perish. the moment the gods for protection, white fang dis- mit-sah gave his order for the start, that dained such protection. he walked boldly moment the whole team, with eager, sav about the camp, inflicting punishment in age cries, sprang forward at white fang. the night for what he had suffered in the there was no defense for him. if he day. in the time before he was made turned upon them, mit-sah would throw leader of the team, the pack had learned to the stinging lash of the whip into his face. get out of his way. but now it was differ- only remained to him to run away. he ent. excited by the day-long pursuit of could not encounter that howling horde him, swayed subconsciously by the insist- with his tail and hind-quarters. these ent iteration on their brains of the sight were scarcely fit weapons with which to of him fleeing away, mastered by the feel- meet the many merciless fangs. so run ing of mastery enjoyed all day, the dogs away he did, violating his own nature and could not bring themselves to give way to pride with every leap he made, and leaping him. when he appeared amongst them all day long. there was always a squabble. his prog- * copyright by jack london. ress was marked by snarl and snap and the outing magazine growl. the very atmosphere he breathed conflict the whole team drew together and was surcharged with hatred and malice, faced him. the dogs had quarrels among and this but served to increase the hatred themselves, but these were forgotten when and malice within him. trouble was brewing with white fang. when mit-sah cried out his command for on the other hand, try as they would, the team to stop, white fang obeyed. at they could not kill white fang. he was first this caused trouble for the other dogs. too quick for them, too formidable, too all of them would spring upon the hated wise. he avoided tight places, and al- leader only to find the tables turned. be ways backed out when they bade fair hind him would be mit-sah, the great whip to surround him. while as for getting stinging in his hand. so the dogs came to him off his feet, there was no dog among understand that when the team stopped them capable of doing the trick. his feet by order, white fang was to be let alone. clung to the earth with the same tenacity but when white fang stopped without that he clung to life. for that matter, orders, then it was allowed them to spring life and footing were synonymous in this upon him and destroy him if they could. unending warfare with the pack, and none after several experiences, white fang knew it better than white fang. never stopped without orders. he learned so he became the enemy of his kind, quickly. it was in the nature of things domesticated wolves that they were, soft- that he must learn quickly, if he were to ened by the fires of man, weakened in the survive the unusually severe conditions sheltering shadow of man's strength. white under which life was vouchsafed him. fang was bitter and implacable. the clay but the dogs could never learn the lesson of him was so molded. he declared a ven- to leave him alone in camp. each day, detta against all dogs. and so terribly did pursuing him and crying defiance at him, he live this vendetta that gray beaver, the lesson of the previous night was erased, fierce savage himself, could not but mar- and that night would have to be learned vel at white fang's ferocity. never, he over again, to be as immediately forgotten. swore, had there been the like of this besides, there was a greater consistence in animal; and the indians in strange villages their dislike of him. they sensed between swore likewise when they considered the themselves and him a difference of kind tale of his killings amongst their dogs. cause sufficient in itself for hostility. like when white fang was nearly five years him, they were domesticated wolves. but old, gray beaver took him on another they had been domesticated for genera great journey, and long remembered was tions. much of the wild had been lost, so the havoc he worked amongst the dogs of that to them the wild was the unknown, the many villages along the mackenzie, the terrible, the ever-menacing and ever across the rockies, and down the porcu- warring. but to him, in appearance and pine to the yukon. he reveled in the action and impulse, still clung the wild. vengeance he wreaked upon his kind. he symbolized it, was its personification; they were ordinary, unsuspecting dogs. so that when they showed their teeth to they were not prepared for his swiftness him they were defending themselves against and directness, for his attack without warn- the powers of destruction that lurked in ing. they did not know him for what he the shadows of the forest and in the dark was, a lightning-flash of slaughter. they beyond the camp fire. bristled up to him, stiff-legged and chal- but there was one lesson the dogs did lenging, while he, wasting no time on elab- learn, and that was to keep together. orate preliminaries, snapping into action white fang was too terrible for any of like a steel spring, was at their throats and them to face single-handed. they met destroying them before they knew what him with the mass-formation, otherwise was happening and while they were yet in he would have killed them, one by one, in the throes of surprise. a night. as it was, he never had a chance he became an adept at fighting. he to kill them. he might roll a dog off its economized. he never wasted his strength, feet, but the pack would be upon him be never tussled. he was in too quickly for fore he could follow up and deliver the that, and, if he missed, was out again too deadly throat-stroke. at the first hint of quickly. the dislike of the wolf for close white fang quarters was his to an unusual degree. he rockies. then, after the break-up of the could not endure a prolonged contact with ice on the porcupine, he had built a canoe another body. it smacked of danger. it and paddled down that stream to where it made him frantic. he must be away, effected its junction with the yukon just free, on his own legs, touching no living under the arctic circle. here stood the thing. it was the wild still clinging to old hudson's bay company fort; and here him, asserting itself through him. this were many indians, much food, and un- feeling had been accentuated by the ish precedented excitement. it was the sum- maelite life he had led from his puppyhood. mer of , and thousands of gold-hunters danger lurked in contacts. it was the were going up the yukon to dawson and trap, ever the trap, the fear of it lurking the klondike. still hundreds of miles deep in the life of him, woven into the from their goal, nevertheless many of them fiber of him. had been on the way for a year, and the in consequence the strange dogs he en least any of them had traveled to get that countered had no chance against him. he far was five thousand miles, while some had eluded their fangs. he got them, or got come from the other side of the world. away, himself untouched in either event. here gray beaver stopped. a whisper in the natural course of things there were of the gold-rush had reached his ears, and exceptions to this. there were times when he had come with several bales of furs, and several dogs, pitching onto him, punished another of gut-sewn mittens and mocca- him before he could get away; and there sins. he would not have ventured so long were times when a single dog scored deeply a trip had he not expected generous profits. on him. but these were accidents. in but what he had expected was nothing to the main, so efficient a fighter had he be what he realized. his wildest dream had come, he went his way unscathed. not exceeded a hundred per cent. profit; another advantage he possessed was he made a thousand per cent. and like a that of correctly judging time and distance. true indian, he settled down to trade care- not that he did this consciously, however. fully and slowly, even if it took all summer he did not calculate such things. it was and the rest of the winter to dispose of his all automatic. his eyes saw correctly, and goods. the nerves carried the vision correctly to it was at fort yukon that white fang his brain. the parts of him were better saw his first white men. as compared adjusted than those of the average dog. with the indians he had known, they were they worked together more smoothly and to him another race of beings, a race of steadily. his was a better, far better, superior gods. they impressed him as nervous, mental, and muscular co-ordina possessing superior power, and it is on tion. when his eyes conveyed to his brain power that godhead rests. white fang the moving image of an action, his brain, did not reason it out, did not in his mind without conscious effort, knew the space make the sharp generalization that the that limited that action and the time re white gods were more powerful. it was a quired for its completion. thus, he could feeling, nothing more, and yet none the avoid the leap of another dog, or the drive less potent. as in his puppyhood, the of its fangs, and at the same moment could looming bulks of the tepees, man-reared, seize the infinitesimal fraction of time in had affected him as manifestations of which to deliver his own attack. body power, so was he affected now by the and brain, his was a more perfected mech houses and the huge fort, all cf massive anism. not that he was to be praised for logs. here was power. these white gods it. nature had been more generous to were strong. they possessed greater mas- him than to the average animal, that was tery over matter than the gods he had all. known, most powerful among which was it was in the summer that white fang gray beaver. and yet gray beaver was arrived at fort yukon. gray beaver had as a child-god among these white-skinned crossed the great water-shed between the ones. mackenzie and the yukon in the late to be sure, white fang only felt these winter, and spent the spring in hunting things. he was not conscious of them. among the western outlying spurs of the yet it is upon feeling, more often than white fang the mad god it is true he worked with it. he picked cution of lip-lip and the whole puppy the quarrel with the strange dog while the pack. it might have been otherwise, and gang waited. and when he had over he would then have been otherwise. had thrown the strange dog the gang went in to lip-lip not existed he would have passed finish it. but it is equally true that he his puppyhood with the other puppies and then withdrew, leaving the gang to receive grown up more dog-like and with more the punishment of the outraged gods. liking for dogs. had gray beaver pos- it did not require much exertion to pick sessed the plummet of affection and love, these quarrels. all he had to do, when the he might have sounded the deeps of white strange dogs came ashore, was to show fang's nature and brought up to the sur- himself. when they saw him they rushed face all manner of kindly qualities. but for him. it was their instinct. he was these things had not been so. the clay of the wild—the unknown, the terrible, the white fang had been molded until he be- ever-menacing, the thing that prowled in came what he was, morose and lonely, un- the darkness around the fires of the prime loving and ferocious, the enemy of all his val world when they, cowering close to the kind. fires, were reshaping their instincts, learn- ing to fear the wild out of which they chapter ii had come, and which they had deserted and betrayed. generation by generation, down all the generations, had this fear of a small number of white men lived in the wild been stamped into their natures. fort yukon. tnese men had been long in for centuries the wild had stood for terror the country. they called themselves sour- and destruction. and during all this time doughs, and took great pride in so classify- free license had been theirs, from their ing themselves. for other men, new in masters, to kill the things of the wild. in the land, they felt nothing but disdain. doing this they had protected both them the men who came ashore from the steam- selves and the gods whose companionship ers were new-comers. they were known they shared. as chechaquos, and they always wilted at and so, fresh from the soft southern the application of the name. they made world, these dogs, trotting down the gang their bread with baking-powder. this plank and out upon the yukon shore, had was the invidious distinction between them but to see white fang to experience the and the sour-doughs, who, forsooth, made irresistible impulse to rush upon him and their bread from sour-dough because they destroy him. they might be town-reared had no baking-powder. dogs, but the instinctive fear of the wild all of which is neither here nor there. was theirs just the same. not alone with the men in the fort disdained the new- their own eyes did they see the wolfish comers, and enjoyed seeing them come creature in the clear light of day, standing to grief. especially did they enjoy the before them. they saw him with the eyes havoc worked amongst the new-comers' of their ancestors, and by their inherited dogs by white fang and his disreputable memory they knew white fang for the gang. when a steamer arrived, the men wolf, and they remembered the ancient of the fort made it a point always to come feud. down to the bank and see the fun. they all of which served to make white fang's looked forward to it with as much antici- days enjoyable. if the sight of him drove pation as did the indian dogs, while they these strange dogs upon him, so much the were not slow to appreciate the savage and better for him, so much the worse for them. crafty part played by white fang. they looked upon him as legitimate prey, but there was one man amongst them and as legitimate prey he looked upon who particularly enjoyed the sport. he them. would come running at the first sound of a not for nothing had he first seen the light steamboat's whistle; and when the last of day in a lonely lair and fought his first fight was over and white fang and the fights with the ptarmigan, the weasel and pack had scattered, he would return slowly the lynx. and not for nothing had his to the fort, his face heavy with regret. puppyhood been made bitter by the perse- sometimes, when a soft southland dog the outing magazine even went down, shrieking its death-cry under in short, beauty smith was a monstros- the fangs of the pack, this man would be ity, and the blame of it lay elsewhere. he unable to contain himself, and would leap was not responsible. the clay of him had into the air and cry out with delight. and been so molded in the making. he did always he had a sharp and covetous eye the cooking the other men in the fort, for white fang. the dish-washing and the drudgery. they this man was called “beauty” by the did not despise him. rather did they other men of the fort. no one knew his tolerate him in a broad human way, as one first name, and in general he was known tolerates any creature evilly treated in the in the country as beauty smith. but he making. also they feared him. his cow- was anything save a beauty. to antithe- ardly rages made them dread a shot in sis was due his naming. he was pre-emi the back or poison in their coffee. but nently unbeautiful. nature had been nig- somebody had to do the cooking, and what- gardly with him. he was a small man to ever else his shortcomings, beauty smith begin with; and upon his meager frame could cook. was deposited an more strikingly this was the man that looked at white meager head. its apex might be likened fang, delighted in his ferocious prowess, to a point. in fact, in his boyhood, before and desired to possess him. he made he had been named beauty by his fellows, overtures to white fang from the first. he had been called “pinhead." white fang began by ignoring him. later backward, from the apex, his head on, when the overtures became more in- slanted down to his neck; and forward, it sistent, white fang bristled and bared his slanted uncompromisingly to meet a low teeth and backed away. he did not like and remarkably wide forehead. beginning the man. the feel of him was bad. he here, as though regretting her parsimony, sensed the evil in him, and feared the ex- nature had spread his features with a tended hand and the attempts at soft- lavish hand. his eyes were large, and be spoken speech. because of all this he tween them was the distance of two eyes. hated the man. his face, in relation to the rest of him, was with the simpler creatures, good and prodigious. in order to discover the nec bad are things simply understood. the essary area, nature had given him an good stands for all things that bring ease- enormous prognathous jaw. it was wide ment and satisfaction and surcease from and heavy, and protruded outward and pain. therefore, the good is liked. the down until it seemed to rest on his chest. bad stands for all things that are fraught possibly this appearance was due to the with discomfort, menace and hurt, and is weariness of the slender neck, unable prop hated accordingly. white fang's feel of erly to support so great a burden. beauty smith was bad. from the man's this jaw gave the impression of fe distorted body and twisted mind, in oc- rocious determination. but something cult ways, like mists rising from malarial lacked. perhaps it was from excess. per marshes, came emanations of the unhealth haps the jaw was too large. at any rate, within. not by reasoning, not by the five it was a lie. beauty smith was known far senses alone, but by other and remoter and and wide as the weakest of weak-kneed uncharted senses, came the feeling to white and sniveling cowards. to complete his fang that the man was ominous with evil, description, his teeth were large and yel- pregnant with hurtfulness, and therefore low, while the two eye-teeth, larger than a thing bad, and wisely to be hated. their fellows, showed under his lean lips white fang was in gray beaver's camp like fangs. his eyes were yellow and when beauty smith first visited it. at the muddy, as though nature had run short faint sound of his distant feet, before he on pigments and squeezed together the came in sight, white fang knew who was dregs of all her tubes. it was the same coming and began to bristle. he had been with his hair, sparse and irregular of growth, lying down in an abandon of comfort, but muddy-yellow and dirty-yellow, rising on he arose quickly, and, as the man arrived, his head and sprouting out of his face in slid away in true wolf fashion to the edge unexpected tufts and bunches, in appeai of the camp. he did not know what they ance like clumped and wind-blown grain. said, but he could see the man and gray white fang beaver talking together. once the man sistent, and during that time white fang pointed at him, and white fang snarled had been compelled to avoid the camp. back as though the hand were just descend he did not know what evil was threatened ing upon him instead of being, as it was, by those insistent hands. he knew only fifty feet away. the man laughed at this; that they did threaten evil of some sort, and white fang slunk away to the shelter and that it was best for him to keep out of ing woods, his head turned to observe as their reach. he glided softly over the ground. but scarcely had he lain down when gray beaver refused to sell the dog. he gray beaver staggered over to him and had grown rich with his trading and stood tied a leather thong around his neck. he in need of nothing. besides, white fang sat down beside white fang, holding the was a valuable animal, the strongest sled end of the thong in his hand. in the other dog he had ever owned, and the best leader. hand he held a bottle, which, from time to furthermore, there was no dog like him time, was inverted above his head to the on the mackenzie nor the yukon. he accompaniment of gurgling noises. could fight. he killed other dogs as easily an hour of this passed, when the vibra- as men killed mosquitoes. (beauty smith's tions of feet in contact with the ground eyes lighted up at this, and he licked his foreran the one who approached. white thin lips with an eager tongue.) no, fang heard it first, and he was bristling white fang was not for sale at any price. with recognition while gray beaver still but beauty smith knew the ways of in nodded stupidly. white fang tried to dians. he visited gray beaver's camp draw the thong softly out of his master's often, and hidden under his coat was al hand; but the relaxed fingers closed tightly ways a black bottle or so. one of the and gray beaver roused himself. potencies of whiskey is the breeding of beauty smith strode into camp and thirst. gray beaver got the thirst. his stood over white fang. he snarled softly fevered membranes and burnt stomach be up at the thing of fear, watching keenly gan to clamor for more and more of the the deportment of the hands. one hand scorching fluid; while his brain, thrust all extended outward and began to descend awry by the unwonted stimulant, per upon his head. his soft snarl grew tense mitted him to go any length to obtain and harsh. the hand continued slowly to it. the money he had received for his furs descend, while he crouched beneath it, and mittens and moccasins began to go. eyeing it malignantly, his snarl growing it went faster and faster, and the shorter shorter and shorter as, with quickening his money-sack grew the shorter grew his breath, it approached its culmination. temper. suddenly he snapped, striking with his in the end his money and goods and fangs like a snake. the hand was jerked temper were all gone. nothing remained back, and the teeth came together emp- to him but his thirst, a prodigious posses tily with a sharp click. beauty smith sion in itself that grew more prodigious was frightened and angry. gray beaver with every sober breath he drew. then clouted white fang alongside the head, so it was that beauty smith had talk with that he cowered down close to the earth in him again about the sale of white fang; respectful obedience. but this time the price offered was in bot white fang's suspicious eyes followed tles, not dollars, and gray beaver's ears every movement. he saw beauty smith were more eager to hear. go away and return with a stout club. “you ketch um dog you take um all then the end of the thong was given over right,” was his last word. to him by gray beaver. beauty smith the bottles were delivered, but after two started to walk away. the thong grew days, “you ketch um dog,” were beauty taut. white fang resisted it. gray smith's words to gray beaver. beaver clouted him right and left to make white fang slunk into camp one evening him get up and follow. he obeyed, but and dropped down with a sigh of content. with a rush, hurling himself upon the the dreaded white god was not there. stranger who was dra ng him away for days his manifestations of desire to lay beauty smith did not jump away. he hands on him had been growing more in had been waiting for this. he swung the the outing magazine was club smartly, stopping the rush midway he. all life likes power, and beauty smith and smashing white fang down upon the no exception. denied the expres- ground. gray beaver laughed and nodded sion of power amongst his own kind, he approval. beauty smith tightened the fell back upon the lesser creatures and thong again, and white fang crawled there vindicated the life that was in him. limply and dizzily to his feet. but beauty smith had not created him- he did not rush a second time. one self, and no blame was to be attached to smash from the club was sufficient to con him. he had come into the world with vince him that the white god knew how to a twisted body and a brute intelligence. handle it, and he was too wise to fight the this had constituted the clay of him, and inevitable. so he followed morosely at it had not been kindly molded by the beauty smith's heels, his tail between his world. legs, yet snarling softly under his breath. white fang knew why he was being but beauty smith kept a wary eye on him, beaten. when gray beaver tied the thong and the club was held always ready to around his neck and passed the end of the strike. thong into beauty smith's keeping, white at the fort beauty smith left him se fang knew that it was his god's will for curely tied and went in to bed. white him to go with beauty smith. and when fang waited an hour. then he applied beauty smith left him tied outside the his teeth to the thong and in the space fort, he knew that it was beauty smith's of ten seconds was free. he had wast will that he should remain there. there- ed no time with his teeth. there had fore, he had disobeyed the will of both the been no useless gnawing. the thong was gods and earned the consequent punish- cut across, diagonally, almost as clean as ment. he had seen dogs change owners in though done by a knife. white fang the past, and he had seen the runaways looked up at the fort, at the same time beaten as he was being beaten. he was bristling and growling. then he turned wise, and yet in the nature of him there and trotted back to gray beaver's camp. were forces greater than wisdom. one of he owed no allegiance to this strange and these was fidelity. he did not love gray terrible god. he had given himself to beaver; yet, even in the face of his will and gray beaver, and to gray beaver he con his anger, he was faithful to him. he could sidered he still belonged. not help it. this faithfulness was a quality but what had occurred before was re of the clay that composed him. it was peated-with a difference. gray beaver the quality that was peculiarly the posses- again made him fast with a thong, and in sion of his kind; the quality that set apart the morning turned him over to beauty his species from all other species; the smith. and here was where the differ quality that had enabled the wolf and the ence came in. beauty smith gave him a wild dog to come in from the open and be beating. tied securely, white fang could the companions of man. only rage futilely and endure the punish after the beating, white fang was ment. club and whip were both used upon dragged back to the fort. but this time him, and he experienced the worst beating beauty smith left him tied with a stick. he had ever received in his life. even the one does not give up a god easily, and so big beating given him in his puppyhood with white fang. gray beaver was his by gray beaver was mild compared with own particular god, and, in spite of gray this. beaver's will, white fang still clung to beauty smith enjoyed the task. he de him and would not give him up. gray lighted in it. he gloated over his victim, beaver had betrayed and forsaken him, and his eyes flamed dully as he swung the but that had no effect upon him. not whip or club and listened to white fang's for nothing had he surrendered himself cries of pain and to his helpless bellows and body and soul to gray beaver. there snarls. for beauty smith was cruel in had been no reservation on white fang's the way that cowards are cruel. cringing part, and the bond was not to be broken and sniveling himself before the blows or easily. angry speech of a man, he revenged him so, in the night, when the men in the self, in turn, upon creatures weaker than fort were asleep, white fang applied his white fang the reign of hate teeth to the stick that held him. the chapter iii wood was seasoned and dry, and it was tied so closely to his neck that he could scarcely get his teeth to it. it was only by the under the tutelage of the mad god, severest muscular exertion and neck-arch white fang became a fiend. he was kept ing that he succeeded in getting the wood chained in a pen at the rear of the fort, and between his teeth, and barely between his here beauty smith teased and irritated teeth at that; and it was only by the exer and drove him wild with petty torments. cise of an immense patience, extending the man early discovered white fang's through many hours, that he succeeded susceptibility to laughter, and made it a in gnawing through the stick. this was point, after painfully tricking him, to laugh something that dogs were not supposed at him. this laughter was uproarious and to do. it was unprecedented. but white scornful, and at the same time the god fang did it, trotting away from the fort in pointed his finger derisively at white fang. the early morning with the end of the stick at such times reason fled from white fang, hanging to his neck. and in his transports of rage he was even he was wise. but had he been merely more mad than beauty smith. wise he would not have gone back to gray formerly, white fang had been merely beaver who had already twice betrayed the enemy of his kind, withal a ferocious him. but there was his faithfulness, and enemy. he now became the enemy of all he went back to be betrayed yet a third things, and more ferocious than ever. to time. again he yielded to the tying of a such an extent was he tormented, that he thong around his neck by gray beaver, hated blindly and without the faintest and again beauty smith came to claim spark of reason. he hated the chain that him. and this time he was beaten even bound him, the men who peered in at him more severely than before. through the slats of the pen, the dogs that gray beaver looked on stolidly while the accompanied the men and that snarled white man wielded the whip. he gave malignantly at him in his helplessness. no protection. it was no longer his dog. he hated the very wood of the pen that when the beating was over white fang confined him. and first, last and most was sick. a soft southland dog would of all, he hated beauty smith. have died under it, but not he. his school but beauty smith had a purpose in all of life had been sterner, and he was himself that he did to white fang. one day a of sterner stuff. he had too great vitality. number of men gathered about the pen. his clutch on life was too strong. but he beauty smith entered, club in hand, and was very sick. at first he was unable to took the chain from off white fang's neck. drag himself along, and beauty smith had when his master had gone out, white to wait half an hour on him. and then, fang turned loose and tore around the pen, blind and reeling, he followed at beauty trying to get at the men outside. he was smith's heels back to the fort. magnificently terrible. fully five feet in but now he was tied with a chain that length, and standing two and one half feet defied his teeth, and he strove in vain, by at the shoulder, he far outweighed a wolf lunging, to draw the staple from the timber of corresponding size. from his mother into which it was driven. after a few he had inherited the heavier proportions days, sober and bankrupt, gray beaver de of the dog, so that he weighed, without parted up the porcupine on his long journey any fat and without an ounce of superflu- to the mackenzie. white fang remained ous flesh, over ninety pounds. it was all on the yukon, the property of a man more muscle, bone and sinew—fighting flesh in than half mad and all brute. but what the finest condition. the door of the pen is a dog to know in its consciousness of was being opened again. white fang madness? to white fang beauty smith paused. something unusual was happen- was a veritable, if terrible, god. he was ing. he waited. the door was opened a mad god at best, but white fang knew wider. then a huge dog was thrust inside, nothing of madness; he knew only that he and the door was slammed shut behind must submit to the will of this new master, him. white fang had never seen such a obey his every whim and fancy. dog (it was a mastiff); but the size and the outing magazine men. fierce aspect of the intruder did not deter only hate and lost himself in the passion of him. here was something, not wood nor it. life had become a hell to him. he iron, upon which to wreak his hate. he had not been made for the close confine- leaped in with a flash of fangs that ripped ment wild beasts endure at the hands of down the side of the mastiff's neck. the and yet it was in precisely this way mastiff shook his head, growled hoarsely, that he was treated. men stared at him, and plunged at white fang. but white poked sticks between the bars to make him fang was here, there, and everywhere, snarl, and then laughed at him. always evading and eluding, and always they were his environment, these men, leaping in and slashing with his fangs, and and they were molding the clay of him leaping out again in time to escape punish- into a more ferocious thing than had been ment. intended by nature. nevertheless, nature the men outside shouted and applauded had given him plasticity. where many while beauty smith, in an ecstasy of de another animal would have died or had its light, gloated over the ripping and mang- spirit broken, he adjusted himself and ling performed by white fang. there lived, and at no expense of the spirit. was no hope for the mastiff from the first. possibly beauty smith, arch-fiend and tor- he was too ponderous and slow. in the mentor, was capable of breaking white end, while beauty smith beat white fang fang's spirit, but as yet there were no back with a club, the mastiff was dragged signs of his succeeding. out by its owner. then there was a pay if beauty smith had in him a devil, ment of bets, and money clinked in beauty white fang had another; and the two of smith's hand. them raged against each other unceasingly. white fang came to look forward eagerly in the days before, white fang had had to the gathering of the men around his pen. the wisdom to cower down and submit to it meant a fight; and this was the only way a man with a club in his hand; but this that was now vouchsafed him of expressing wisdom now leſt him. the mere sight of the life that was in him. tormented, in- beauty smith was sufficient to send him cited to hate, he was kept a prisoner so into transports of fury. and when they that there was no way of satisfying that came to close quarters, and he had been hate except at the times his master saw fit beaten back by the club, he went on growl- to pit another dog against him. beautying and snarling and showing his fangs. smith had estimated his powers well, for the last growl could never be extracted he was invariably the victor. one day from him. no matter how terribly he was three dogs were turned in upon him in suc beaten, he had always another growl, and cession. another day a full-grown wolf, when beauty smith gave up and with- fresh caught from the wild, was shoved in drew, the defiant growl followed after him, through the door of the pen. and on still or white fang sprang at the bars of the another day two dogs were set against him cage bellowing his hatred. at the same time. this was his severest when the steamboat arrived at dawson, fight, and though in the end he killed them white fang went ashore. but he still both he was himself half killed in doing it. lived a public life, in a cage, surrounded by in the fall of the year, when the first curious men. he was exhibited as “the snows were falling and mush-ice was run fighting wolf,” and men paid fifty cents ning in the river, beauty smith took pas in gold-dust to see him. he was given no sage for himself and white fang on a rest. did he lie down to sleep, he was steamboat bound up the yukon to dawson. stirred up by a sharp stick-so that the white fang had now achieved a reputation audience might get its money's worth. in in the land. as the "fighting wolf," he order to make the exhibition interesting, was known far and wide, and the cage in he was kept in a rage most of the time. which he was kept on the steamboat's deck but worse than all this was the atmos- was usually surrounded by curious men. phere in which he lived. he was regarded he raged and snarled at them, or lay qui as the most fearful of wild beasts, and this etly and studied them with cold hatred. was borne in to him through the bars of why should he not hate them? he never the cage. every word, every cautious asked himself the question. he knew action on the part of the men, impressed white fang upon him his own terrible ferocity. it was good and ready, and even made the first so much added fuel to the flame of his attack. fierceness. there could be but one result, but greatest of all the advantages in and that was that his ferocity fed upon white fang's favor was his experience. itself and increased. it was another in he knew more about fighting than did any stance of the plasticity of his clay, of his of the dogs that faced him. he had fought capacity for being molded by the pressure more fights, knew how to meet more tricks of environment. and methods, and had more tricks himself, in addition to being exhibited, he was a while his own method was scarcely to be professional fighting animal. at irregular improved upon. intervals, whenever a fight could be ar as the time went by, he had fewer and ranged, he was taken out of his cage and fewer fights. men despaired of matching led off into the woods a few miles from him with an equal, and beauty smith was town. usually this occurred at night, so compelled to pit wolves against him. as to avoid interference from the mounted these were trapped by the indians for the police of the territory. after a few hours purpose, and a fight between white fang of waiting, when daylight had come, the and a wolf was always sure to draw a crowd. audience and the dog with which he was once, a full-grown female lynx was secured, to fight arrived. in this manner it came and this time white fang fought for his about that he fought all sizes and breeds life. her quickness matched his; her fe- of dogs. it was a savage land, the men rocity equaled his; while he fought with were savage, and the fights were usually his fangs alone, and she fought with her to the death. sharp-clawed feet as well. since white fang continued to fight, it but after the lynx all fighting ceased for is obvious that it was the other dogs that white fang. there were no more animals died. he never knew defeat. his early with which to fight—at least, there was training, when he fought with lip-lip and none considered worthy of fighting with the whole puppy-pack, stood him in good him. so he remained on exhibition until stead. there was the tenacity with which spring, when one tim keenan, a faro- he clung to the earth. no dog could make dealer, arrived in the land. with him him lose his footing. this was the favorite came the first bulldog that had ever en- trick of the wolf breeds---to rush in upon tered the klondike. that this dog and him, either directly or with an unexpected white fang should come together was in- swerve, in the hope of striking his shoulder evitable, and for a week the anticipated and overthrowing him. mackenzie hounds, fight was the mainspring of conversation eskimo and labrador dogs, huskies and in certain quarters of the town. malemutes—all tried it on him, and all failed. he was never known to lose his footing. men told this to one another, and chapter iv looked each time to see it happen; but the clinging death white fang always disappointed them. then there was his lightning quickness. beauty smith slipped the chain from his it gave him a tremendous advantage over neck and stepped back. his antagonists. no matter what their for once white fang did not make an fighting experience, they had never en immediate attack. he stood still, ears countered a dog that moved so swiftly as pricked forward, alert and curious, survey- he. also to be reckoned with was the im- ing the strange animal that faced him. mediateness of his attack. the average he had never seen such a dog before. tim dog was accustomed to the preliminaries of keenan shoved the bulldog forward with snarling and bristling and growling, and a muttered, “go to it." the animal wad- the average dog was knocked off his feet dled toward the center of the circle, short and finished before he had begun to fight and squat and ungainly. he came to a or recovered from his surprise. so often stop and blinked across at white fang. did this happen, that it became the cus there were cries from the crowd of, “go tom to hold white fang until the other to him, cherokee! sick 'm, cherokee! dog went through his preliminaries, was eat 'm up!" the outing magazine but cherokee did not seem anxious to fight. he turned his head and blinked at the men who shouted, at the same time wagging his stump of a tail good-naturedly. he was not afraid, but merely lazy. be- sides, it did not seem to him that it was intended he should fight with the dog he saw before him. he was not used to fight- ing with that kind of dog, and he was wait- ing for them to bring on the real dog. tim keenan stepped in and bent over cherokee, fondling him on both sides of the shoulders with hands that rubbed against the grain of the hair and that made slight, pushing-forward movements. these were so many suggestions. also, their ef- fect was irritating, for cherokee began to growl, very softly, deep down in his throat. there was a correspondence in rhythm be- tween the growls and the movements of the man's hands. the growl rose in the throat with the culmination of each for- ward-pushing movement, and ebbed down, to start up afresh with the beginning of the next movement. the end of each move- ment was the accent of the rhythm, the movement ending abruptly and the growl- ing rising with a jerk. this was not without its effect on white fang. the hair began to rise on his neck and across the shoulders. tim keenan gave a final shove forward and stepped back again. as the impetus that carried cherokee forward died down, he continued to go forward of his own volition, in a swift, bow-legged run. then white fang struck. acry of startled admiration went up. he had covered the distance and gone in more like a cat than a dog; and with the same cat-like swiftness he had slashed with his fangs and leaped clear. the bulldog was bleeding back of one ear from a rip in his thick neck. no sign, did not even snarl, but turned and followed after white fang. the display on both sides, the quickness of the one and the steadiness of the other, had excited the partisan spirit of the crowd, and the men were making new bets and increasing orig- inal bets. again, and yet again, white fang sprang in, slashed, and got away un- touched; and still his strange foe followed after him, without too great haste, not slowly, but deliberately and determinedly, in a business-like sort of way. there was purpose in his method-something for him to do that he was intent upon doing and from which nothing could distract him. his whole demeanor, every action, was stamped with this purpose. it puzzled white fang. never had he seen such a dog. it had no hair protection. it was soft, and bled easily. there was no thick mat of fur to baffle white fang's teeth, as they were often baffled by dogs of his own breed. each time that his teeth struck they sank easily into the yielding flesh, while the animal did not seem able to de- fend itself. another disconcerting thing was that it made no outcry, such as he had been accustomed to with the other dogs he had fought. beyond a growl or a grunt, the dog took its punishment silently. and never did it flag in its pursuit of him. not that cherokee was slow. he could turn and whirl swiftly enough, but white fang was never there. cherokee was puz- zled, too. he had never fought before with a dog with which he could not close. the desire to close had always been mutual. but here was a dog that kept at a distance, dancing and dodging here and there and all about. and when it did get its teeth into him it did not hold on, but let go in- stantly and darted away again. but white fang could not get at the soft under side of the throat. the bull- dog stood too short, while its massive jaws were an added protection. white fang darted in and out unscathed, while chero- kee's wounds increased. both sides of his neck and head were ripped and slashed. he bled freely, but showed no signs of be- ing disconcerted. he continued his plod- ding pursuit, though once, for the moment baffled, he came to a full stop and blinked at the men who looked on, at the same time wagging his stump of a tail as an ex- pression of his willingness to fight. in that moment white fang was in upon him and out, in passing ripping his trimmed remnant of an ear. with a slight manifes- tation of anger, cherokee took up the pur- suit again, running on the inside of the circle white fang was making, and striv- ing to fasten his deadly grip on white fang's throat. the bulldog missed by a hair's-breadth, and cries of praise went up as white fang doubled suddenly out of danger in the opposite direction. the time went by. white fang still danced on, dodging and doubling, leaping he gave painting by frank e. schoonover. "after the break-up of the ice on the porcupine he paddled down that stream to where it effected its iunction with the yukon. white fang in and out, and ever inflicting damage. turning and reversing, trying to shake off and still the bulldog, with grim certitude, the fifty-pound weight that dragged at his toiled after him. sooner or later he would throat. the bulldog did little but keep accomplish his purpose, get the grip that his grip. sometimes, and rarely, he man- would win the battle. in the meantime aged to get his feet to the earth and for a he accepted all the punishment the other moment to brace himself against white could deal him. his tufts of ears had be- fang. but the next moment his footing come tassels, his neck and shoulders were would be lost and he would be dragging slashed in a score of places, and his very around in the whirl of one of white fang's lips were cut and bleeding-all from those mad gyrations. cherokee identified him- lightning snaps that were beyond his fore self with his instinct. he knew that he seeing and guarding. was doing the right thing by holding on, time and again white fang had at and there came to him certain blissful tempted to knock cherokee off his feet; thrills of satisfaction. at such moments but the difference in their height was too he even closed his eyes and allowed his great. cherokee was too squat, too close body to be hurled hither and thither, willy- to the ground. white fang tried the trick nilly, careless of any hurt that might once too often. the chance came in one thereby come to it. that did not count. of his quick doublings and counter-circlings. the grip was the thing, and the grip he he caught cherokee with head turned kept. away as he whirled more slowly. his white fang ceased only when he had shoulder was exposed. white fang drove tired himself out. he could do nothing, in upon it; but his own shoulder was high and he could not understand. never, in above, while he struck with such force that all his fighting, had this thing happened. his momentum carried him on across over the dogs he had fought with did not fight the other's body. for the first time in his that way. with them it was snap and fighting history, men saw white fang lose slash and get away, snap and slash and get his footing. his body turned a half-somer away. he lay partly on his side, panting sault in the air, and he would have landed for breath. cherokee, still holding his grip, on his back had he not twisted, cat-like, urged against him, trying to get him over still in the air, in the effort to bring his feet entirely on his side. white fang resisted, to the earth. as it was, he struck heavily and he could feel the jaws shifting their on his side. the next instant he was on grip, slightly relaxing and coming together his feet, but in that instant cherokee's again in a chewing movement. each shift teeth closed on his throat. brought the grip closer in to his throat. it was not a good grip, being too low the bulldog's method was to hold what he down toward the chest; but cherokee held had, and when opportunity favored to on. white fang sprang to his feet and work in for more. opportunity favored toré wildly around, trying to shake off the when white fang remained quiet. when bulldog's body. it made him frantic, this white fang struggled, cherokee was con- clinging, dragging weight. it bound his tent merely to hold on. movements, restricted his freedoin. it was the bulging back of cherokee's neck was like the trap, and all his instinct resented the only portion of his body that white it and revolted against it. it was a mad fang's teeth could reach. he got hold revolt. for several minutes he was to all toward the base, where the neck comes intents insane. the basic life that was in out from the shoulders; but he did not him took charge of him. the will of his know the chewing method of fighting, nor body to exist surged over him. he was were his jaws adapted to it. he spasmod- dominated by this mere flesh-love of life. ically ripped and tore with his fangs for a all intelligence was gone. it was as though space. then a change in their position di- he had no brain. his reason was unseated verted him. the bulldog had managed to by the blind yearning of the flesh to exist roll him over on his back, and, still hanging and move, at all hazards to move, to con to his throat, was on top of him. like tinue to move, for movement was the ex a cat, white fang howed his hind-quarters pression of its existence. in, and, with the feet digging into his en- round and round he went, whirling and emy's abdomen above him, he began to the outing magazine claw with long tearing strokes. cherokee might well have been disemboweled had he not quickly pivoted on his grip and got his body off of white fang's and at right angles to it. there was no escaping that grip. it was like fate itself, and as inexorable. slowly it shifted up along the jugular. all that saved white fang from death was the loose skin of his neck and the thick fur that covered it. this served to form a large roll in cherokee's mouth, the fur of which well nigh defied his teeth. but bit by bit, whenever the chance offered, he was getting more of the loose skin and fur in his mouth. the result was that he was slowly throttling white fang. the latter's breath was drawn with greater and greater difficulty as the moments went by. it began to look as though the battle were over. the backers of cherokee waxed jubilant and offered ridiculous odds. white fang's backers were correspondingly de- pressed and refused bets of ten to one and twenty to one, though one man was rash enough to close a wager of fifty to one. this man was beauty smith. he took a step into the ring and pointed his finger at white fang. then he began to laugh de- risively and scornfully. this produced the desired effect. white fang went wild with rage. he called up his reserves of strength and gained his feet. gled around the ring, the fifty pounds of his foe ever dragging on his roat, his anger passed on into panic. the basic life of him dominated him again, and his in- telligence fled before the will of his flesh to live. round and round and back again, stumbling and falling and rising, even up- rearing at times on his hind-legs and lifting his foe clear of the earth, he struggled vainly to shake off the clinging death. at last he fell, toppling backward, ex- hausted; and the bulldog promptly shifted his grip, getting in closer, mangling more and more of the fur-folded flesh, throttling white fang more severely than ever. shouts of applause went up for the victor, and there were many cries of “cherokee!” “cherokee!” to this cherokee responded by vigorous wagging of the stump of his tail. but the clamor of approval did not distract him. there was no sympathetic relation between his tail and his massive jaws. the one might wag, but the others held their terrible grip on white fang's throat. it was at this time that a diversion came to the spectators. there was a jingle of bells. dog-mushers' cries were heard. everybody, save beauty smith, looked ap- prehensive, the fear of the police strong upon them. but they saw, up the trail and not down, two men running with sled and dogs. they were evidently coming down the creek from some prospecting trip. at sight of the crowd they stopped their dogs and came over and joined it, curious to see the cause of the excitement. the dog-musher wore a moustache, but the other, a taller and younger man, was smooth-shaven, his skin rosy from the pounding of his blood and the running in the frosty air. white fang had practically ceased strug- gling. now and again he resisted spas- modically and to no purpose. he could get little air, and that little grew less and less under the merciless grip that ever tightened. in spite of his armor of fur, the great vein of his throat would have long since been torn open, had not the first grip of the bulldog been so low down as to be practically on the chest. it had taken cherokee a long time to shift that grip up- ward, and this had also tended further to clog his jaws with fur and skin-fold. in the meantime, the abysmal brute in beauty smith had been rising up into his brain and mastering the small bit of sanity that he possessed at best. when he saw white fang's eyes beginning to glaze, he knew beyond doubt that the fight was lost. then he broke loose. he sprang upon white fang and began savagely to kick him. there were hisses from the crowd and cries of protest, but that was all. while this went on, and beauty smith con- tinued to kick white fang, there was a commotion in the crowd. the tall young newcomer was forcing his way through, shouldering men right and left without ceremony or gentleness. when he broke through into the ring, beauty smith was just in the act of delivering another kick. all his weight was on one foot, and he was in a state of unstable equilibrium. at that moment the newcomer's fist landed a smashing blow full in his face. beauty smith's remaining leg left the ground, and his whole body seemed to lift into the air as he strug- white fang as he turned over backward and struck the “won't some of you help?” scott cried snow. the newcomer turned upon the desperately at the crowd. crowd. but no help was offered. instead, the "you cowards!” he cried. “you beasts!" crowd began sarcastically to cheer him on he was in a rage himself—a sane rage. and showered him with facetious advice. his gray eyes seemed metallic and steel-like "you'll have to get a pry,” matt coun- as they flashed upon the crowd. beauty seled. smith regained his feet and came toward the other reached into the holster at his him, sniffling and cowardly. the new hip, drew his revolver, and tried to thrust comer did not understand. he did not its muzzle between the bulldog's jaws. know how abject a coward the other was, he shoved, and shoved hard, till the grat- and thought he was coming back intent on ing of the steel against the locked teeth fighting. so, with a "you beast!” he could be distinctly heard. both men were smashed beauty smith over backward on their knees, bending over the dogs. with a second blow in the face. beauty tim keenan strode into the ring. he smith decided that the snow was the safest paused beside scott and touched him on place for him, and lay where he had fallen, the shoulder, saying ominously: makirig no effort to get up. "don't break them teeth, stranger.” “come on, matt, lend a hand,” the new “then i'll break his neck,” scott re- comer called to the dog-musher, who had torted, continuing his shoving and wedging followed him into the ring. with the revolver muzzle. both men bent over the dogs. matt “i said don't break them teeth,” the took hold of white fang, ready to pull faro-dealer repeated more ominously than when cherokee's jaws should be loosened. before. this the younger man endeavored to ac but if it was a bluff he intended, it did complish by clutching the bulldog's jaws in not work. scott never desisted from his his hands and trying to spread them. it efforts, though he looked up coolly and was a vain undertaking. as he pulled and asked: tugged and wrenched, he kept exclaiming "your dog?" with every expulsion of breath, “beasts!” the faro-dealer grunted. the crowd began to grow unruly, and "then get in here and break this grip." some of the men were protesting against the “well, stranger," the other drawled ir- spoiling of the sport; but they were silenced ritatingly, “i don't mind telling you that's when the newcomer lifted his head from his something i ain't worked out for myself. work for a moment and glared at them. . i don't know how to turn the trick.” “you damn beasts!” he finally exploded, “then get out of the way,” was the reply, and went back to his task. “and don't bother me. i'm busy.” “it's no use, mr. scott, you can't break’m tim keenan continued standing over apart that way,” matt said at last. him, but scott took no further notice of the pair paused and surveyed the locked his presence. he had managed to get the dogs. muzzle in between the jaws on one side, and “ain't bleedin' much,” matt announced. was trying to get it out between the jaws "ain't got all the way in yet.” on the other side. this accomplished, he “but he's liable to any moment,” scott pried gently and carefully, loosening the answered. “there, did you that! jaws a bit at a time, while matt, a bit at he shifted his grip in a bit.” a time, extricated white fang's mangled the younger man's excitement and ap-. neck. prehension for white fang was growing. 'stand by to receive your dog," was he struck cherokee about the head, sav scott's peremptory order to cherokee's agely, again and again. but that did not loosen the jaws. cherokee wagged the the faro-dealer stooped down obedi- stump of his tail in advertisement that he ently and got a firm hold on cherokee. understood the meaning of the blows, but "now!” scott warned, giving the final that he knew he was himself in the right pry: and only doing his duty by keeping his the dogs were drawn apart, the bulldog grip. struggling vigorously. see owner. the outing magazine “take him away,” scott commanded, “you've forfeited your rights to own and tim keenan dragged cherokee back that dog," was the rejoinder. "are you into the crowd. going to take the money? or do i have to white fang made several ineffectual ef hit you again?" forts to get up. once he gained his feet, "all right," beauty smith spoke up with but his legs were too weak to sustain him, the alacrity of fear. “but i take the and he slowly wilted and sank back into the money under protest,” he added. “the snow. his eyes were half closed, and the dog's a mint. i ain't a-goin' to be robbed. surface of them was glassy. his jaws were a man's got his rights." apart, and through them the tongue pro "correct," scott answered, passing the truded, draggled and limp. to all appear- money over to him. “aman's got his rights . ances he looked like a dog that had been but you're not a man. you're a beast.” strangled to death. matt examined him. "wait till i get back to dawson," "just about all in," he announced; "but beauty smith threatened. "i'll have the he's breathin' all right." law on you.” beauty smith had regained his feet and “if you open your mouth when you get come over to look at white fang. back to dawson, i'll have you run out of "matt, how much is a good sled-dog town. understand?” worth?” scott asked. beauty smith replied with a grunt. the dog-musher, still on his knees and “understand?" the other thundered stooping over white fang, calculated for a with abrupt fierceness. moment. “yes,” beauty smith grunted, shrink- “three hundred dollars,” he answered. ing away. “and how much for one that's all chewed “yes what?" up like this one?” scott asked, nudging “yes, sir,” beauty smith snarled. white fang with his foot. “look out! he'll bite!” some “half of that,” was the dog-musher's shouted, and a guffaw of laughter went up. judgment. scott turned his back on him, and re- scott turned upon beauty smith. turned to help the dog-musher, who was “did you hear, mr. beast? i'm going working over white fang. to take your dog from you, and i'm going some of the men were already departing; to give you a hundred and fifty for him.” others stood in groups, looking on and talk- he opened his pocketbook and counted ing. tim keenan joined one of the groups. out the bills. “who's that mug?” he asked. beauty smith put his hands behind his “weedon scott,” some one answered. back, refusing to touch the proffered money "and who in hell is weedon scott?” the "i ain't a-sellin'," he said. faro-dealer demanded. “oh, yes you are,” the other assured “oh, one of them crack-a-jack minin' him. “because i'm buying. here's your experts. he's in with all the big bugs. money. the dog's mine." if you want to keep out of trouble you'll beauty smith, his hands still behind him, steer clear of him, that's my talk. he's began to back away. all hunky with the officials. the gold scott sprang toward him, drawing his commissioner's a special pal of his.” fist back to strike. beauty smith cowered “i thought he must be somebody," was down in anticipation of the blow. the faro-dealer's comment. “that's why “i've got my rights," he whimpered. i kept my hands offen him at the start." one (to be continued.) the mysterious awa-toose and the strange nebog-atis by robert t. morris nt at stepped into the bush and cut a pudgy; the ember mullet with graceful pole. he put a piece of pork on outlines and golden-bronze in color, with a the hook, tucked another piece of deep red band along the sides; and the pork between his shirt and the waistband brilliant silver mullet, with red fins and a of his trousers for provision against sudden compressed body. repeated questioning need, and sat down upon the wet bank of had failed to draw from nat a satisfactory the river. the whole calm procedure was description of which one of these fish his suggestive of confidence born of success on awa-toosè resembled, and cur imaginations some former occasion. nat was an indian. were set to the hair trigger now that the years ago he was in the hudson bay com looked-for place had been reached. pany's service, and wake and i considered “how big is the awa-toose?” i asked. ourselves fortunate in getting him to go "sie weigh two pound. guess some of along with us, to find portages between it weigh one pounds,” replied nat. flying post and moose, on our exploring “what is the best bait?” trip. nat answered by picking up a handful we had found plenty of fish all along the of mud from just below the water's edge way so far, but they were old friends—stur and handing it toward me. one who is geon, ling, doré, jackfish, whitefish, lake not familiar with translating from the trout and others of less consequence. what indian might be surprised on being in- we wanted was to find something new to formed that a handful of mud was the best tell about at the next canadian camp din bait for a fish alert enough to take the ner in new york, and although our note trolling spoon, and perhaps the fly, but i books already described jackfish fully as recognized the sign language for crawfish, large as any that we actually caught, and and proceeded to capture half a dozen of whitefish so toothsome that their delicious them at once. nat fished with pork and ness seemed to be peculiar to the region of a sinker. i used crawfish bait on light our search, there was nevertheless a longing tackle, wake chose a trolling spoon of such and an unsatisfied feeling that nothing pretty and attractive model that it would short of a new fish could relieve. almost draw land animals into the water nat had filled us with expectation, for to get at it; and we sent alex and sol out he had told us that when we reached a cer to set the collecting nets in likely places. tain part of the kokateesh river we would the red crossbills sang in jaunty cama- come upon a fish called the awa-toose, and raderie as they flew in joyous company that they would be caught all of the way amongst the pointed firs. white-throated from there down to hudson bay. the sparrows called and answered each other awa-toose, he said, was shaped and colored in different octaves, and a water-wagtail something like a sucker, but it had teeth sent his clear notes across the river to us very good for heat.” further- every few minutes. we stood in the more, it wouid take almost any sort of lure. tracks of moose and bears on the bank, and now, there were three suckers in the river, awaited the coming of a wild fish, among the common gray one, that was round and wild surroundings. did the awa-toose take and was the outing magazine of camp. the fly? did it leap when hooked? did that he had cut all of the portages him- it fight longer than any other known fish? self. was it a surprise for the palate at every nat was really a good and kindly old new mouthful? had it ever been described soul, and during the two months that he by a naturalist? these were the questions was with us we got to be very fond of him. that we asked while we waited until the there was nothing in reason that he did stars came out, and a horned owl called not want to do for us, and he was evidently with his minor screams, that are intended distressed because we could not find the to inform timid animais that the caller awa-toose. the evening of july , , does not carry legs like a lynx. it was not was destined to be an eventful one, how- the night for awa-toose, and nat, antici ever. we were then pretty well down the pating a hard day's work on the morrow, mattagami river, and at the end of a hard thought best to tell us that the awa-toose day's work in rain and wind we camped did not bite after sundown. late on the bank of a long, swirling eddy. for the next two or three days on our a good hot dinner of sturgeon, flapjacks way down river we camped early, and de and chocolate, with a change to dry woolen voted most of our spare time to the awa clothing, made one feel like a butterfly just toose, but without attracting its attention; out of the chrysalis. i lighted a sweet old although nat assured us that in former pipe and stepped out on the rocks in front days, when supplies for flying i'ost all came from england by way of moose post, the wind had died down, and the clouds the canoemen caught awa-toose whenever had broken away enough to let one little they stopped to camp at night. this was star peep through and watch the coming not quite in accord with his statement that scene. our tired indians were already the fish did not bite after sundown, for the asleep in their tents, and wake, with his hudson bay people waste very little of the rare combination of industry and love of daylight in traveling time. luxury, was arranging the boughs in our nat was a reliable indian nevertheless; tent according to the formula of my old and it was simply necessary to be well guide caribou charley, who liked "a bed enough acquainted with him to realize boughed down with care.” all was quiet, when he was reliable. he was simple and with that vast, impressive quiet that settles unassuming in manner. he looked at one over the great, untraveled spruce forest of with a clear level eye when first speaking the north at night, and i seemed to be and then dropped his eyes modestly before alone. the deep black river swept ma- finishing a sentence, but there was nothing jestically by on its way to arctic seas, and of deception in his manner. if he informed noiselessly, excepting for an occasional us that there were no game animals and swish of the inky current where it met the few fish about the lake that he had chosen return flow of the bank eddy. i listened. for his permanent abode it was because it was easy to listen, on that quiet night. he spoke before he thought. if he had yes, it was another sound that i heard stopped to think, he would have said noth above the swish of the current, and to a ing at all. lakes and streams and special fisherman's ears it meant that fish of some hunting grounds are handed down from sort or another were rising for ephemeras. father to son in his country, and indians i knew the sound made by a rising trout, recognize and respect each other's right a rising bass, a rising doré, a rising perch, and title to such grounds. they would a rising smelt, a rising mullet, a rising expect to have nat answer them as he did salmon. it was none of these. oh, joy! me, that his chosen ground was a miserable after days of seeking for a mysterious fish, one for game and fish; but when i said here, on this night for gnomes and goblins, "ki debwe," and gave a knowing wink, he in the eerie current that came out of the at once joined my other indians in a hearty dark, passed silently and went into the shout of laughter. the idea of possession dark, there was some fish that i had never is so well grounded that when i asked nat heard rise before. if he knew about a certain small river, he “just wait a minute,” said some one to replied, “guess know it pretty well. made himself--and when the first fly rod out of it myself,” which on translation means the case was mounted, i knew by the feel the mysterious awa-toose that it was a lucky old split bamboo of which responded to the addition of a few seven ounces that had been made for me chips, i made out a fish that was clearly by dr. fowler in his best days, twenty-five of the herring tribe; but of what sort ? years ago. it was a rod that had landed a herring living in rapid fresh water like everything from grilse in labrador to a trout, independent, and feeding upon brown trout in sweden and smelts in ephemeras! his open mouth was found maine. in the fly book all varieties were to be armed with very sharp teeth, both of the same color at this hour, but a loosely on jaws and on tongue, and that again coiled cast that had been rather carelessly seemed strange for a herring. while tucked into the book a day or two previ- wondered there came to memory a lecture ously kept working itself into my hand, and that i had heard twenty-eight years pre- insisting upon being first in at the con viously at college, in which professor wil- test, so it was looped to the line rather der had spoken of the existence of a big- more because of its insistence than as a toothed herring which had a double pupil matter of choice. it carried a brown of the eye. yes, this fish had a double hackle for dropper and a parmachenee pupil of the large, lustrous eye, and both belle for stretcher. pupils of the same size. surely this was in the hurry of getting ready, the land not nat's awa-toose, but some other fish ing net was not taken out of the case, but that he had neglected to tell us about. as my pipe had gone out it was necessary carefully the fish was packed away in to start up the sweet puffs of guard's mix- damp moss to await daylight inspection, ture for luck, and that required a quarter and then i stepped out on the rocks again of a minute of time that was more precious for the next one. than first-water diamonds. then, com two or three times the cast was sent out fortable, contented and expectant, i sent of sight in the darkness, and suddenly the cast out into the gloom and knew that there was another pull at the fly, but the it had alighted true, at the margin of the hard-headed pull at the outset and the eddy. quick giving up showed that my old ac- instantly there came a ferocious tug at quaintance, the doré, had been hooked this the fly, the reel sang chir-r-r-r-r, and through time; and he is no sort of a hero. the the darkness i saw the gleam of a white, star overhead had seen enough, the clouds glistening fish in the air. here was my were gathered over it again, and the tattoo awa-toose after all, but what manner of of raindrops was the call to bed. although fish could the awa-toose be? nothing that we were all tired, and wake had made the i had ever caught before gave such peculiar softest and springiest of fragrant beds, i fluttering leaps, and nothing before had slept uneasily and impatiently awaited the ever shone in the dark. out into the sullen coming of daylight, that would reveal all of current he ran, then back into the eddy. the features of my prize. with the persistence of a bass he failed to nat was up early. it was not his awa- know when he was beaten. would the toose at all, but a fish that he called the hook hold? it must hold. if that hook "nebog-atis” (plural, add iwog), and one failed to hold i would write letters to the that was seldom captured by the indians. editor denouncing the manufacturer. with the color was almost startling in its bril- every rush of the fish into the current my liancy of flashing silver, so bright that my heart stood still, but finally the uncaptured negatives were all over-exposed. over the prize began to yield, and in a few minutes silver was a scintillating iridescence of pea- he came sliding toward the bank on his green and lilac, and on the back a sugges- side. in the absence of a landing net tion of transparent steel-blue and purple. carefully found his gills and quickly tossed it was fifteen inches in length, and nine and him out upon the grass. then began more a half inches in girth. the outlines were gymnastics, but with the aid of both hands those of a shad, but the body was com- and of both knees and of the friendly sedge pressed at the anal fin in a curious way, grass i was able to grasp a fish shaped like just as though somebody had pinched the a shad, with some of its large loosened fish between his thumb and forefinger at scales sticking between my fingers. that point when it came hot out of the kneeling by the embers of the camp fire, smelter. there were no scales on the the outing magazine opercles, but the body was smoothly not travel in schools like most other herring covered with large, rounded scales which but are found singly, although fifty may readily separated on handling. the double be in sight at one time when they are pupil of the eye had changed during the breaking water for ephemeras. on dark night, and the lower one was now the days the fish may be at the surface at al- larger of the two. this changed again in most any time of day, but as a rule they the sunlight, and the upper pupil became suddenly appear about four o'clock in the so large that the lower one was a mere pin- afternoon, and feed from that time until hole opening in the iris. the stomach was night. filled with ephemeras. on our trip we found only one more in- we were too impatient about testing the teresting fish than the nebog-atis to report, table qualities to wait for a bed of hard and while that was a great surprise, and wood coals for broiling purposes, so the fish something that will attract the immediate was carefully fried. it was delicious in attention of every fly fisherman in the land deed. the flesh was remarkably white, when we get time to tell about it, we are firm and tender, with a streak of brown nevertheless going down to the mattagami fat along the side, as in the shad. the river again for nebog-atisiwog alone, unless herrings that i have eaten would be placed some one knows where they may be found in about this order of classification for at some nearer point. table quality: shad, nebog-atis, labrador as to the mysterious awa-toose, he is still herring, european red herring, hickory uncaught. on our return trip i offered shad, common american herring, alewife, nat ten dollars if he would get one four tarpon, menhaden. inches long, and finally offered in addition we found that while the nebog-atis would a hundred pounds of pork, with no further take the fly at night, one could get it as result than to leave the indian with the well in the daytime. the favorite habitat impression that we were probably daft to was in deep, steady currents, but often make such an offer for any four-inch fish. enough it chose trout or salmon water. the the autumn leaves are changing fast on one fly that was chosen in preference to a the mattagami river to-day, and perhaps dozen others that we tried was the par there has been a snowstorm and a skim of machenee belle, although casts resembling ice on the still waters already. the great the ephemera upon which it was feeding river roars in the rapids, bears swim across were made up in various combinations. it, and moose and caribou browse upon its like ourselves, the nebog-atis was out for banks. in its waters somewhere there is new specimens, and cared little for its tried a fish called awa-toose by the indians, but and true flies when a parmachenee belle what manner of fish it is, some one else was anywhere in sight. nebog-atisiwog do must say. tahun baby olney's “cure” by adele marie shaw the paper. aby olney was ill—not terribly, egregious insults and hang out your latch- suddenly ill with diphtheria or string to its entire length. meningitis, but "not strong," and "van is off for a snow-shoeing affair the not growing stronger. in millie olney's eighteenth of next month, and i'll go to you pretty face there were anxious lines. for a week then if you'll have me, and i'll jack olney did not even ask "how is take my daughter elizabeth along because baby?” when his wife met him at the so far we've never been separated and i threshold. he knew. he gave her the think she'd miss me. in the usual rush, letter he had taken from the postman at and with kisses for your little jackie. the door, and while he dressed for dinner "elizabeth is just a year old to-day and and a "small and early” at the whitchers', a very lusty, noisy girl, too. so provide millie read the letter and he tried to think cotton for both your ears. if your boy is of something to say. half so rampant there 'll be music.-lou. “oh!” millie exclaimed as she rustled mildred dropped the letter with a sigh. "isn't she queer, jack? but she's as dear jack gave a final solemn jerk to his tie as she can be. i wish- and turned from the mirror. delight "anything wrong?" jack waited. rioted in millie's shining eyes. jack's face "nothing much. yesterday at the club brightened as he watched her. millie was i heard margaret durfee say to mrs. whit- the only grown woman he had ever known cher, 'so naïve of dear mrs. olney to expect to whose face you could bring that child's a forbes-van rensselaer to visit in a look of sudden irrepressible delight. second-rate little suburb like hillcrest!' “you baby!” he said, as he had said it and you see if lou hadn't come hundreds of times in the five years since "you baby!" said jack again. he was the same look had betrayed her preference not a wordy man, but he put his arm for himself. “you seem pleased.” around her as they went down to din- "i am,” she answered, and flushed under ner, and once as he carved the duck he his approving gaze. "any one would be paused. pleased,” she announced. “read that.' “mrs. durfee is a silly little snob,” he “read it to me.” mildred always had remarked, and renewed his slicing and dis- a reason for her delight, but jack's capacity jointing with an air of relief. “isn't it for pleasure had been stunted in its early warm here?" growth by responsibilities too big for his "i keep the house warm for jackie boy,” years, and the reason was sure to seem to began mildred, and broke off in a sudden him curiously simple and inadequate. wail. "oh, i wish he were ‘noisy'! i'm mildred smoothed out the letter and so worried. people give me all sorts of read: “you precious goose: if you aren't advice-but jackie is different; he isn't a the same old stupid! yes, you are, s-t-u great stocky baby like the pennell chil- p-i-d! what have i done to be suspected dren!” of age and imbecility that would prevent so it was baby, not mrs. durfee, that was my enjoying your 'little home'? my en the real worry! jack's look of relief van- joyment is not yet dependent on the size ished. of the house i am in, so take back your “you're nervous, millie,” was all he the outing magazine said, but he disappeared when dinner was dred olney poured out to jack in her next over and mildred found him in the nursery. letter. it was a tidy letter, the under- the baby was asleep. a thermometer on scorings neatly put in as if with a ruler: the dresser at the head of the crib and an “what a dreadful bother settling up es- other on the wall at its foot guarded his tates seems to be, even little ones,” it be- slumbers. in the dim light he looked un gan. “and now you may not be back commonly fair, almost uncannily beauti before lou goes. really i wish you were ful, his father thought. copper-gold curls here, for she has got me quite upset. she's clung moistly about the transparent tem as lovely as ever, but she has queer notions ples, and the blue lines under the eyes did about children. she didn't bring lisa, her not show, own maid, but a big, strong creature, her a month later john olney had gone baby's nurse. i put nurse and baby into “west,” and louise van rensselaer had the yellow room, it's so sunny and the been a whole day in the olney “small steam pipes going up through it to the house. baby olney sat on the floor and third floor make it doubly warm, and the stirred listlessly among the encompassing very first thing lou asked was if she might cushions. around him, like a wee excited just put baby elizabeth into her own room, dervish, whirled and trotted, tumbled and that hasn't even storm windows. i showed rolled elizabeth. “itty boy! itty boy!” her the pane that opens in the storm win- she shrieked in a transport of delight. dow of the yellow room, but she didn't “isn't she strong!" sighed jackie's think that 'would be enough for elizabeth's mother. "how do you keep her so well, big lungs'! when i went up to get her for lou?” luncheon her baby was in short sleeves and "plenty of air and suiting her clothes to socks—and with no flannels to speak of, the climate, and the usual recipes—justjust wisps! there was a regular draught what every one knows.” mrs. van rens on the floor, and what do you think made it? selaer lifted a pitying glance from the she had turned off the steam and opened swathings of the little jackie. "she wasn't both windows in the next room, her baby's well for months after she was born. we room. of course the cold air got under almost lived in the nursery. something the door. “at home elizabeth sleeps in a about her stomach was wrong. oh, i'm room where the windows are never shut and an authority on diet for infants!” i don't like to have her change,' lou ex- “then you know, sometimes i think plained. i was anxious; it chills the house my doctor is too old to be quite he was a good deal. and think of her baby! my mother's doctor for thirty years and “little elizabeth is small and dainty, i'm so fond of him, but his medicine isn't but a perfect picture of health. she is doing baby any good- fairly rough with jackie, but he seems to “i don't believe jackie needs medicine; like it. when she got too boisterous i tried i should get off some of those flannel skirts to carry him away and he cried. i've put and keep him in the air hours every day.” on more fire since the yellow room was so mrs. van rensselaer spoke eagerly and cooled off and i can see lou thinks it is too bit her lip when it was too late. warm, but i have to think of jackie first. "he gets cold so easily i have to keep he would never bear roughing it like eliza- him warmly dressed; and if i take him out beth. in cloudy weather he has a cough at once. "i miss you, my own dearest husband, i suppose every child is a different prob every minute. —your own millie. lem." mildred spoke with gentle dignity. “p. s. lou is really lovely. she went she was hurt, but one could not be angry to the club with me, and mrs. whitcher with lou. there was comfort in the re proved to be an old friend of her sister-in-' membrance that mrs. durfee, peering from law, and she fell in love with betty pen- across the way, had seen the station car noyer. she keeps elizabeth out-of-doors riage set down a forbes-van rensselaer till i should think the child would freeze. at the olney door, and had beheld the and i shudder when she puts her to bed. warmth of the forbes-van rensselaer i went up last night and that baby was embrace. running around her mother's room stark both the hurtness and the comfort mil- naked, and after they caught her—they let baby olney's “cure" my.cs.watcomaxima “'isn't she strong!' sighed jackie's mother. 'how do you keep her so well, lou?'” her do this every night-irmgard, the about jackie? you know lou has the best nurse, opened a window quite a long way doctors money can buy and they seem to while they buttoned her into a kind of think her ways are all right. but children sleeping bag. the feet are whole, and the differ. if it wouldn't kill my baby i wrists quite close so the sleeves won't slip would try anything to have him as strong up. i was thankful to see that that gar as elizabeth. but of course it would. ment at least was very warm and woolly. your own loving wife.—mildred." 'put on a wrap and see elizabeth go by another letter in a hand neither small bye,' lou insisted, and you know how nor noticeably neat went north as jack's mothers are; i was afraid she would be followed him west. it was addressed to hurt if i refused, so i put a steamer rug mr. william forbes van rensselaer, around me and went into that frightfully great bear camp, pocomaguntic, maine, cold room. 'hop,' said the nurse, and that and this is part of what it said: “dear old child pounced from her arms into the cold van, i hope you're missing me atrociously. bed with a chuckle. the sheets are wool, i wish you were here. no, i but i call it dangerous. and that baby wish i were there— or we were both was asleep in no time. poor little jackie, somewhere. together i mean. i want all warm and cosy in his crib, was an hour to talk. (stop that, van; don't you grin dozing off. i am getting a red face from at me.) i'm assisting at a murder. i the wind, for lou is such a walker, and of certainly am. these two lunatics, millie course i won't let her see i hate it. olney and her husband, are stifling to "do you suppose i am too particular death the prettiest baby you ever saw. . the outing magazine prettier than elizabeth? yes, sir. as his arm out. lou thinks if i open the win- much prettier as angels are prettier than dow directly in his room the air will have humans. but i don't want elizabeth more oxygen than coming from a distance. to be an angel yet. and no danger, i did it last night, and jackie did seem less with your eyes to see the world with and restless after midnight. but i got cold my lungs to utter any foolish thing she running in to see how he was, and selma conjures up under that thatch of dog- says she won't sleep so near the night air. colored van rensselaer hair! i've sent her upstairs and shall sleep here "millie kennedy (olney) is just the myself. ( am writing in the nursery.) i same dear pussy-cat i knew at school, the don't want to worry you, but baby has kind that never gets over the fence. when been growing weaker. i hope i'm not she takes that angel infant out of his hot killing him by this new sleeping arrange- swaddlings at night and puts him into his ment. your own, anxious, loving, devoted fur-lined bed and opens the farthest win millie." dow in the next room one inch i crawl all the other letter was less anxious but the over with horror. no wonder the child subject was the same: “is it a year or an takes a frightful cold every time he pokes æon since i saw you, van, dear? aren't his parboiled little nose outside the door. you rather wasted on maine bears? your if mr. olney were at home i should 'mix letters make me wild to be there, but i'm in' and say things, but millie is a shrivel doing great things here. you ought to see of loose nerves, soft and frail and set. your officious spouse cutting out the doc- “i've put elizabeth and myself into tor emeritus! i've bullied mildred olney august clothing and wrap like esquimaux nearly into hysterics by my advice, and when we go out. the moment elizabeth she's got that blessed baby unswaddled a begins taking colds i shall fly to town. i bit, one layer off and a fraction of a breath wish i had your tact, old boy. i'd save more air in. the poor little chap tumbled jackie olney's life. this morning trying to walk, tumbled be- “don't get too far off; you might be cause his legs are so weak, and i just picked taken with appendicitis or something. him up and cried. and millie discovered sinful smith told fernanda that he would me and sent off selma, her fool lump of a go along on the south sea cruise—the nurse maid, and we had it out between yoshi ought to be out of dry dock in an drops, as it were. you know i can plead. other fortnight. and she's agreed to try common sense “elizabeth kisses your picture—and gradually, and if that works she won't need bites the case. after the sloppiest yet, to hurt the feelings of her dear old idol of a 'wet kiss, papa yike it,' said papa's daugh doctor by calling in some one else. ter and smiled her wickedest. she knows "i took a base advantage and had the you hate wet kisses. her sentiment seems children out-of-doors in no time. my irm- early tinged with humor! oh, van, why do gard and i kept them out till jackie fell i miss you so ridiculously! your lone- asleep in his carriage as i myself (you some lou. (sounds like the title of a rag should have seen me) propelled him home! time song.) that martyred baby is four in spite of the stodgy selma's horror i left months older than elizabeth and can hard him on the porch well wrapped up, till ly walk at all. think of it!" mildred came in from market an hour later. three days later two more letters bulged she was pale with scare when she caught the hillcrest mail. one was brief: “dear her first glimpse of him, but she had small jack,"it went, “i get so little time to write, time for desperation-he woke immediately now louise is here, and i am so sleepy at with the appetite of an anaconda. i have night, you are being shamefully neglected. not lived in vain. to-day i've made a nightgown of a lamb’s "i'm worrying myself wild this minute woolly stuff just like baby elizabeth's and for fear millie and her offspring will get taken a blanket off jackie's crib. lou pneumonia and be carried off in a night thought they were too heavy. and i all through my fault. there's something sha'n't tuck him in so tightly. you see mighty steadying about your hard-hearted with this woolly thing close around his neck old self. i find i continue to miss you and and wrists he can't get cold if he does get ‘may you be a caterpillar in hell for a baby olney's “cure” thousand years' if you let sinful persuade would come and i wanted to surprise you, you to stop over at craig's head.” mildred interrupted. “no, i'm not crazy; this is lou's panhard and her chauffeur. the “small house” had been without they're here while she is in the woods. either jack olney or louise van rensse van broke his leg, slipped into some horrid laer for a long time when jack again walked place covered with snow so he didn't see sedately from the car to the hillcrest sta the rocks, and she took the next train. and tion. his eyes were cast down and his she left the baby with irmgard and me. lips closed in the pressure that means fear. irmgard knows all her ways and i had then he looked up and the sedateness and learned them pretty well. oh, jack, i never the fear fell from him as the avalanche slips was so proud in my life, not since you asked from the mountain, with a rush and a me to marry you—and would you believe slump. it was a cold day, but mildred was these weeks could make such a difference waiting on the platform in a little whirl of with our jackie?” wind-blown flakes. her eyes danced ab big jack looked down at little jack and surdly and a small creature furred like an his eyes fixed themselves in a happy sort infant bear danced beside her-two small of blindness. not even mildred guessed creatures, differing to the casual glance how terror had lived with him in those only in the furriness of their wraps. weeks, how often he had started from a jack swooped down upon the group, and dozing misery with the picture horribly a visiting broker regarded him with almost plain before his sight of a tiny white face bucolic amazement. “is that john ol and copper-gold hair framed in sick, sweet- ney?” he gasped. “i'd have said he was smelling flowers in a darkened room. he the coolest iceberg this side the pole. by crushed the small figure in his arms tighter the lord harry, he has a good excuse! is and said nothing. that his wife?” “i must see if elizabeth is all right; i "no yes! but i never noticed her be am always so afraid irmgard may forget fore," answered william pennington, sub- something," confided mildred that night as stantial citizen and landholder of hillcrest. they finished their coffee. “i'll be back in “there's a welcome for you. doesn't that a minute." but she paused in her boy's give your bachelor bosom a jar!" room first and jack was there before her. “oh, i don't know; women aren't so “you know i wrote you that lou had scarce, answered the visitor cheerfully; crazy ideas? well, i don't think i ought "but, i say, hold up a minute, penn. see to have said that, jack,” mildred began in those twins? now if i could buy a pair her confidential little murmur. “lou is like that!” really a sensible girl—she knew what baby “one of 'em would cost you a pretty needed. how i should have blamed my- penny if you paid what he's, or she's, worth self if- i don't let baby have quite such a in her own right to-day; that's the forbes- gale as elizabeth gets at night, and i do van rensselaer baby,” announced the keep the steam on daytimes, for he plays hillcrest magnate, not without pride. here, you know, but i air it thoroughly be- "it is, eh? well, he's getting his hair fore he goes to bed and he has one window pulled, and giving as good as he gets, which- half open every night. he's almost as ever he is. oh—but this is rich! let strong as elizabeth already-oh, jack, i 'em have it out, now-don't separate 'em! wish i'd written you i wanted to be sure i bet on the little monkey in the fox skins!” i wasn't making another mistake i didn't the broker mounted to his place in his know you'd worried so friend's carriage with a backward grin of for olney was again bending over the appreciation, and the unsuspecting olneys crib where john junior slumbered deeply, rescued from each other the two babies, one woolly arm flung out to the air, and each with a strand of red-gold hair firm mildred was close enough to see what the ly clutched in prehensile mitten-fingers. big john would have concealed. jack's eyes were shining with a look not “oh, jack!” she said again. unlike the childlike glow in mildred's. “you baby!” answered jack, and "why didn't,” he began. gathered her into both arms and hid his “oh, i thought every single day you face against her own. westward ho! by stuart l. douglas w e were voyaging through the great holiday pilgrim begun to discover that his lakes in a steamer which for size own country is worth as much outlay of and luxury of equipment would time and money as europe, and if he is a have been called a liner on the atlantic. good american he is learning to think it in the summer twilight we came to the st. more worth while to discover his own land clair flats and the ship canal which un before he seeks the beaten trail of foreign rolled across the lowlands like a silver travel. ribbon. here were hundreds of cottages “going abroad” enjoys the prestige of whose porches overhung the water, scat many generations and its paths are deep tered along many little waterways which rutted. it has lost all claim to distinction, swarmed with skiffs and launches. it was however, and nowadays is not a thing to like a huge colony of stranded house-boats, talk about among your friends unless you for there were no other roads than these wish to bore them to distraction. the water trails. the man from boston had tourist party has made the undertaking been gradually shedding his reserve as one so commonplace that to have whizzed peels off a coat of sunburn, and this summer through europe implies neither a long sight struck him as so immensely pictur purse nor the slightest originality of intel- esque and novel that he deigned to make lect. i was once crossing in a steamer comment that was genuinely enthusiastic: which contained an average muster-roll “do you know, the farther west i go, of touring americans. those who were the better like it. why, i thought the making their first trip abroad and felt in- people out here were so grossly absorbed clined to put on some small airs about it in making money that they had neither the were speedily cowed and abashed. they time nor the talent for enjoying life. there found that most of their fellow voyagers must be thousands of them in this ameri had crossed from three to ten times, and can venice. it's most extraordinary for a that the only passenger who enjoyed the big steamer to be loafing along here among slightest distinction was a veteran who was all these cottages. you could toss the tra doing his twenty-sixth "run across the ditional biscuit from the deck and hit a pond.” happy householder in the eye almost any far be it from me to decry the enlighten- where. if it's going to be as jolly and in- ing advantages of sight-seeing in the old teresting as this, i may set out to discover world, where age, tradition and the novel america.' aspect of people and things arouse the im- this pilgrim was one of thousands of agination and refresh the tired mind. but well-to-do persons whose view-point has for one american who returns in a wholly been twisted by the fetich of "going refreshed and satisfied condition, i will abroad.” this spell is perhaps more acute find you another who will confess to num- in boston than anywhere else. every berless irritations because of petty and summer the atlantic liners running out of organized swindles and extortions waged that port are crowded with men and wom against the yankee in a strange land, and en who have been bred to believe that to futile annoyance over bad hotels, poor there is no america worth the mention railway service and a civility that is won west of new york; and manhattan island, and held only on a cash basis. for that matter, is rather raw and uncivil largely because it has been possible for ized. only within recent years has the the man of moderate income to spend one westward ho! serve: ranean. or two months abroad for a considerably have spent millions of dollars to set forth smaller outlay than he could tour his own the attractions of this western country. country, he puts “seeing america” last in- they know that they "can deliver the stead of first, and it has been up-hill work goods,” and the newest movement toward to induce people who travel to listen to the teaching the american to be proud of his claims of the undiscovered land toward the own country aims to make it easier for him golden gate. it has come to pass, how to wander across the mighty map that is ever, that the journey from new york to so surpassingly rich in vivid and manifold california is considered worth talking about interest. as much as the trip to london or paris, and one goes away from home on pleasure there are grounds for hope that at no far- bent, to see interesting people and things, distant time the average american with and for change of climate, scenery and money and time for a summer or winter conditions of living. the stupidity which holiday will take pains to study his own the west has had to fight is that of the land before he flies to the nearest steam otherwise intelligent person who thinks ship office to get a sailing schedule. that these requirements cannot be found the big west has discovered that it must in his own country. he will tritely ob- do more than talk about its attractions. it must meet the competition of foreign "oh, the west is big and new and stirring, travel with inducements that appeal to the. but it lacks atmosphere and it's all so very pocket-book as well as to the imagination. much alike.” it is hopeless to attempt to it is setting a pace for the rest of the world convince the man who has not strayed be- to follow in the matter of railroad and hotel yond the alleghanies that he knows almost equipment for the tourist. the transcon nothing of the real america of the present tinental lines west of chicago have done or future. yet if he would see vividly con- much more to make travel both swift and trasting phases of life, he will fare toward luxurious than the older systems toward the pacific instead of toward the mediter- the eastward. better hotels are building, if he wishes a unique grandeur of and first-class service is being brought with scenery, he must turn his face toward the in the reach of the every-day citizen. cascades, the rockies, the great lakes and “that is all very well, observed an puget sound. if he would see the great obstinate person to whom these and similar glaciers go marching into the lonely sea he assertions were made. “going west no will make the alaska trip and have some- longer means roughing it, i grant you that thing big and fresh to talk about, instead i have been surprised to find how fast the of being contented to do the merry-go- people out there are learning how to live, round of switzerland. and i can order a better dinner in spokane in europe one can escape with the than i can in pittsburg. but the distances greatest difficulty the well-worn trail of the are so infernally great that a man is stone conventional tourist. and everything he broke by the time he gets anywhere. then sees has been photographed and written it makes no difference to the poor beggar about until the first sight of it is robbed whether the hotels are good, bad or indif of all novelty of aspect. in western amer- ferent.” ica the tourist can leave the beaten trail this is a handicap which the railroads wherever he feels like it. if he tires of are working to overcome by means of scenic show places and cities and hotels, he special rates, for they have come to realize may discover that no european country- that the tourist is the best advertisement folk are more picturesque than the vanish- of the west, and that the east must be ing american cowboy who is riding the educated through the man who goes forth ranges of the southwest as one of the last to see for himself. better and cheaper of the unique frontier types of american hotels and lower fares were the slogans of civilization in the making. or one has the “see america first” conference held only to step from a through train in arizona in salt lake city last january as an organ- or new mexico or montana to find himself ized missionary crusade among the states in the world of the prospector, the freighter beyond the mississippi. the railroads, and the sheep herder, an atmosphere of boards of trade, and commercial clubs men and view-points of life no more like the outing magazine that of broadway than is the life of india it is possible that our pilgrim decided to like that of an english county. go down the coast from portland to san if he would seek tradition and antiquity francisco, and was amazed to find himself let him tarry among the villages of the in a fast train for a longer time than would moqui and hopi indians of the southwest be required to transport him from new and discover the relics of a departed civili york to kansas city or new orleans. he zation as remote as that of rome. there revised his conceptions of american geog- is no more remarkable story of man's con raphy, but he could not accustom himself quest over hostile nature in all history than to the nonchalant ease with which the is pictured in the green valleys and among native hopped across the vast distances. the enduring cities of utah, where the arid he had believed san francisco and los desert was made a garden by the mormon angeles related in distance about as are pioneers. travelers from abroad seek salt new york and atlantic city, and when he lake city as one of the show places of was whirled along in a limited train for america, and view the lucin cut-off across fourteen hours on end, he was again be- that inland sea as one of the most spectacu fogged with astonishment. yet the cali- lar engineering feats ever achieved. the fornian considers this as really little more average american of the eastern states than a commuting distance. thinks that the mormons and their country this portland fair showed also that the cannot hold anything worth seeing because easterners can be lured west by the thou- he differs with them in certain matters of sands, provided low rates of transportation politics and religion. are offered. the fair achieved its most an observant tourist has said: lasting success in opening the eyes of a “even a fast traveler will observe the multitude of men and women who took energy of the people, and will catch some this rare opportunity to see the land they thing of their enthusiasm and their large live in. they did more than visit portland. conception of the united states. if by they swarmed amid the wonders of the going the long distance from one ocean to yellowstone, they filled the summer steam- another a citizen of an eastern state has the ers to alaska, and they skirted the pacific physical bigness of his country borne in coast from seattle to los angeles. swing- upon him, so by acquaintance with the ing round the circle, they made the tour of people west of the rockies he gets a larger the yosemite, and came home by way of range of thought. they keep the hopeful the grand cañon of the colorado. they temperament that is another name for tarried at denver and colorado springs, healthful activity. and all along the route discovered that the now, the western man needs no mission west is the great summer playground of ary propaganda to induce him to discover the future for those who can afford to the east. in this he is much less a provincial travel in search of health and pleasure. than his cousin of new york or boston. a ten thousand mile tour of the united the seattle merchant makes less pother states should be part of the education of about running across country to new york every young american whose father can than the new yorker makes of a trip to afford it. many youngsters fresh from col- buffalo. the portland fair sent many a lege are sent tripping it around the globe visitor home with new ideas about the ease as a kind of extra preparation for their of long-distance travel in america. the work in life. a smaller investment in a man from the east gasped and blinked to circuit of their own country would make find a journey of a couple of thousand miles better men and more useful citizens of as airily mentioned as if it were a jaunt them. the “grand tour” of america is an between philadelphia and boston. if the undertaking that appeals to any man with pilgrim went out to the coast by one of the more imagination than a mouse. the old northern routes and tarried at spokane, he trails have been made easy and the ways heard his acquaintances chatting about smooth so that such a plan can be carried "going over to seattle to spend sunday." out in more comfort than for any other like these two cities of the northwest are as far distance on the globe. let him set forth apart as new york and pittsburg, but for via the great lakes from buffalo to duluth, all practical purposes they are neighbors. and make an inland voyage of a thousand pvc wory painting by p. v. e. ivory. the round-up camp. "a spanish cavalier stood in his retreat. and on his guitar-r played a tu-u-ne, dear. .ܝ westward ho! miles, steaming westward all the time. he deavor to convince him that he can find a does not know, he cannot glimpse, the pro more attractive out-of-doors and get more ductive wealth of the country until he sees of it for his money than he can in the east, the torrent of deep-laden traffic that hur where the wilderness has been tamed and ries up and down these noble highways made commonplace by the multitude of by night and day. the atlantic voyage is invaders eager to leave cities and towns be- commonplace beside this cruise in the heart hind them for a blessed little while. of america. it is significant of the awakening realiza- from duluth let our pilgrim work west tion that all this newer country is immense- ward across the prairies of the dakotas ly interesting and refreshing to note how and the cattle ranges of montana, then dip large a part it plays in the fiction and de- across the cascades until he comes to the scriptive writing of the day. the ameri- stately cities that look toward the orient. can public no longer wants books of foreign now he will begin to realize that the des travel, nor do publishers and magazines tinies of his own nation are closely linked desire this kind of material. they are in this twentieth century with strange coming to view their own country as a lands far over seas, as he watches the great rediscovered mine of vivid interest, and ships go out to china, japan, and honolulu their view-point reflects the drift of popu- and australia. twelve hundred miles to lar taste. the desert, the mountains, the the southward he finds himself amid the forest, the inspiring note that rings in the vanishing traces of the old spanish life of big, free life of the western country and its california, as unlike the feverish modernity people, arouse more interest year by year. of san francisco and los angeles as ancient it is an ancient jest that only foreigners egypt. take the trouble to visit niagara falls, but if the lifetime of man seems too short a there is even more truth in the assertion that space for doing much that is worth while, the average american of the atlantic sea- the pacific coast preaches another doctrine. board is most astonishingly indifferent to since the days of the forty-niner this won the map of the united states beyond the derful people have found time to make not boundaries of his business and social activi- only a commercial empire but the greatest ties. he flatters himself that he has been playground in the world. there is no educating the west, while as a matter of resort anywhere to compare in wealth and fact it is the west to-day that seeks to popularity with los angeles, whose chief educate him by making a better and more asset is its climate. it is only one, how representative american of him. nor can ever, of a chain of resorts along five hun there be any sounder tribute to the fact that dred miles of coast, whose hotels and en the country is worth seeing than that the vironment are far more attractive than traveler who has once made the plunge re- those which border the atlantic. peats it at the earliest opportunity. and when the tourist takes the back trail, in many cases he “goes to stay.” califor- it leads him among the rockies, where the nia, for example, owes much of its swiftly ways veer in many directions, either to the expanding prosperity to eastern settlers southwest or among the hundred resorts who came once for pleasure and the sec- tucked away among the grandest moun ond time to live there. the west is so tains of the continent. it should be said confident of its power to charm and to hold of the west as a playground that while that it spends fortunes in advertising it- the first-class and pretentious hotels are self, confident of rich returns. the text increasing in numbers and patronage, preached by these hustling crusaders may good accommodations for the man of more be summed up in this fashion: modest purse are multiplying even faster. “we have the finest scenery and the not only in the way of smaller hotels most delightful climate on earth. our and boarding-houses, but in cottages and railroads make the distance to us not camps the west is taking lessons from the nearly as great as it sounds. try a trip crowded haunts of the adirondacks and west and we guarantee you won't be dis- the maine and canada woods. in other appointed. you need waking up. it's your words, there is no spirit of desire to rob the duty to see america first, and you'll be tenderfoot, but rather a systematic en glad you came.” school and college world the season's work on track, field and river by ralph d. paine i- sec. - sec. i- sec. io i- sec. - sec. sec. i mile mile run sec. to min. - sec. - sec. i- sec. i- sec. i- sec. in. - in. the "he intercollegiate track athletic hon feet - inches in the pole vault, smashing ors, east and west, belong to cornell all world's records. and michigan. their respective victories the comparative records for the eastern were uncommonly impressive. in the east and western meets were as follows: ern meet, held in the harvard stadium, east the ithacan team fairly swept the field with west yard dash points; pennsylvania winning second yard dash place with points, harvard third with yard run half mile i min. - sec. i min. - sec. points, and yale fourth place with min. - sec. min. - sec. points. the victory was a surprise, and it min. was largely won by cornell's sensational yard hurdles superiority in distance running, a prestige yard hurdles broad jump ft. - in. in the four events, ft. - in. heid for several years. high jump ft. ft. - in. the quarter mile, half mile, mile and two hammer throw ft. - in. ft. shot put ft. - in. ft. ii - in. mile races, cornell runners scored a total pole vault i ft. - in. ft. - in. of points, or enough to have won the meet. this achievement is one of the most other track athletic meets worthy of notable ever recorded in college athletic record were: rivalry. much praise is due trainer moak the twelfth annual relay carnival held ley who has brought out more brilliant dis by the university of pennsylvania. the tance runners for cornell within the last entries numbered . a world's record seven years than have been developed at was made in the four mile relay race by the all the other eastern universities. cornell university of michigan team, min. has come to the front in a field of sport in - sec. the other championships were which, hitherto, american college athletes won by dartmouth in the two mile race; have been considered inferior to their eng- pennsylvania in the mile; mercersburg lish rivals. academy among the preparatory schools; four men won second place for penn and wendell phillips school in the high- sylvania: cartmell and whitham who fin school class. ished first and second in both dashes, has the new england intercollegiate meet kins who took first in the mile run, and was won by dartmouth with points; moffett who won a place in the high jump. brown second, ; boston tech. third, yale had two firsts, marshall in the broad, - ; williams fourth, - . new and knox in the high jump. harvard records were made by hubbard of am- could get only one first place with stephen herst in the low hurdles, - sec., and son in the shot put, grant sharing honors dearborn of wesleyan in the discus, with with jackson of cornell in the pole vault, feet ii - inches. with a tie at feet - inches, a new the interscholastic meet at philadel- intercollegiate record which was fairly phia for the middle states championship snowed under a week later in the western was won by the hill school of pottstown, meet. while the rivalry was as keen as ever, points; mercersburg second, ; brown and the entry lists of record-breaking size, preparatory school third, . five rec- the performances showed that the eastern ords were broken, by. j: h. whitley of meet is no longer the premier event of its lawrenceville, half mile in i min. - kind. the western meet was fully as sec.; r. m. hunter of philadelphia central notable in the quality of its talent. michi high school, two miles in min. . - gan had a team which would have played sec.; wills of mercersburg, yard dash havoc with the program at the stadium. in sec.; merritt of hill school, yard it so far outclassed its western rivals that hurdle in - sec., equaling the fastest the winning. total of - points, with collegiate time of the year. chicago scoring only - points for sec in the western interscholastic meet at ond place, is likely to stand as a record of chicago, seventy-three schools competed wholesale rout. garrels of ann arbor from ten states. it was won by lewis insti- proved himself a phenomenal athlete, tute with points; detroit university worthy to be bracketed with kraenzlein of school second, - ; morgan park acad- dazzling memory, garrels won points, emy third, - . new records were made including the high hurdles in - sec by freeney of ida grove, ia., in the pole onds. the hero of the college year in vault, feet - in.; and giffen of joliet, track athletics, however, was leroy samse discus throw of feet - in. of the indiana university who cleared the western interscholastic meet at school and college world ann arbor was won by lewis institute, - points; detroit university school second, ; detroit central high school third, . this was the most brilliant inter- scholastic meet ever held. ten records were broken and two tied. cook, a school- boy from chillicothe, o., won the yard dash in seconds flat, broke the western intercollegiate record for the broad jump, clearing feet in., cleared feet in the pole vault, and scored in the high jump with feet - in. in other words, this schoolboy far outclasses any college ath- lete of the year: the harvard-yale dual meet was won by harvard, - points to - . two new records were made: by hail of yale in the two mile run, min. - sec., and by sheffield of yale in the broad jump, feet - in., a jump surpassed this year only by the carlisle indian, mt. pleasant, who did feet in. against lafayette. princeton won the dual meet with col- umbia, points to . zink of columbia ran a half mile in min. - sec., one of the fastest performances of the year. the year. baseball the baseball season in the middle west focused in a struggle between michigan and illinois for first honors. the michigan nine drew ahead and fairly claimed the leadership after the decisive game, – , on may th. while michigan won three of its four games with illinois, the series with chicago was an “even break," with two games each. the ann arbor team won most of its minor games and was much more consistent than any of the eastern leaders except princeton. with illinois in second place and chicago third, there were no other nines quite in the class with this trio. minnesota and northwestern had weak teams, and wisconsin put no nine in the field. sanger of michigan repeated his success of last year as the best pitcher in the middle west. in the big games he distinguished himself, but curiously enough in the only game played with an eastern team he was knocked out of the box by amherst, the only time in his career that he was ever withdrawn from the game. the eastern nines made a topsy-turvy season of it, in that the alleged “small fry" beat the “big fellows" with more startling frequency than ever. the princeton team won the right to claim first honors on the score of consistent form, with brown and cornell outranking. yale, harvard and pennsylvania. in fact the record of the tigers looms as the brightest feature of the otherwise erratic season. this team, with bryan at the head of the pitching staff, defeated each of its chief rivals, yale, har- vard and cornell, twice in succession and won one of its two games with brown. the was a handsome tribute to the efficiency of the new graduate coaching staff. the yale nine was one of the disappoint- ments of the year. it was twice beaten by princeton, after meeting disaster at the hands of many minor colleges, and finished the season with the lone comfort of beating harvard in the two games of the series. but as princeton had already beaten the cambridge team, there was no great pres- tige for the sons of eli, even in this triumph. more interesting than the struggle among these hereditary rivals was the formidable showing of the so-called “minor teams.' dartmouth beat harvard for the second year in succession, and again skillen proved himself the doughtiest eastern pitcher of brown defeated yale twice, and harvard and princeton once. cornell was able to lower the colors of pennsylvania, columbia and harvard, but was beaten twice by princeton, and once by yale and bucknell. pennsylvania and harvard were so notably weak this year that they must be ranked with yale in the second class. the yale-princeton series furnished the most interesting struggles of the eastern season, as both games were won by the tigers in the ninth inning. in the first game at new haven the yale men went to pieces at the finish, when they had the game in hand, and after being utterly put to rout were beaten - . at princeton, yale led in the ninth inning with two men out and two strikes called. then with that sort of a whirlwind rush which was once called a “yale finish,” princeton batted out a victory, - . the yale-harvard game at new haven (score - ) was worth seeing because it was fought into ten innings with a hair-raising finish which delighted the yale commencement crowd. for the first time in many years the southern intercollegiate association fought out a clean-cut baseball championship which was awarded to the georgia school of technology. this nine played games during the season, and won , against ten college nines. one of the most pleasing records of the eastern baseball season was made by the andover academy nine. these youngsters played first-class college baseball from start to finish. they defeated harvard, yale, the university of vermont, and amherst, and lost to bates, dartmouth, georgetown and cornell. the uncertainties of the college season have done the game a world of good. the smaller colleges and even the prepara- tory schools find a keener zest for the game if they have a chance of victory when they tackle those proud and mighty rivals who used to call themselves the leaders. there has arisen a democracy of the diamond which has wiped out the traditions of the “big four," or the “big six." rowing season college rowing was never in such healthy condition at present. encouraging as the outing magazine efforts have been made to enlist the interest nearly ten lengths behind them came of more students by enlarging the field of wisconsin, with columbia two lengths in aquatic rivalry in such institutions as yale, the rear, and georgetown last, by five harvard, pennsylvania and cornell. last lengths. it was a procession, and not a fall a large number of dormitory and class boat race, barring the first three crews. crews were organized at harvard, and more the four-oared race was won by cornell, men rowed on the charles than ever before. in minutes and seconds. syracuse this plan of developing intercollegiate was a length and a half away, with 'colum- competition, first worked out at cornell, bia third and pennsylvania in the rear. was also tried at pennsylvania, and a hope the freshmen victory fell to syracuse, in ful start was made. at new haven class minutes and seconds. cornell was crews are flourishing with a new enthusiasm, only a length_behind, wisconsin third, and the prizes offered last spring to crews columbia and pennsylvania behind them. that would get out and row for the fun of this was the best race of the day, but it it, were contested for by more than twenty was marked by the stupidity of a tow-boat eights. in rowing, as in other sports, the captain who refused to slow down, and colleges are making a determined and caught the wisconsin crew in a swell which wholesome effort to get away from the wrecked their chances of getting second pernicious notion that the duty of the place. average undergraduate begins and ends cornell's victory in this regatta taught with cheering for the university eleven or anew the lesson that brains and not brawn nine or eight. win races, and that courtney has more brains the regatta of the american rowing of the right kind than any other coach who association, misnamed the american sends a crew to poughkeepsie. ten eyck's henley," made most commendable efforts style of rowing has been exploded, as it de- to attract school and college crews, and was served to be. it won one university race, fairly successful. cornell failed to enter, but it cannot win in the long run against and the yale crew was kept home by the courtney's sounder theories. the pough- faculty. syracuse sent an eight, however, keepsie race has become a question of which won the junior college race against coaching, and courtney is so consistently harvard and pennsylvania. for the stew ahead of his rivals that this regatta is fast ards' cup, harvard put in her freshman losing the edge of its interest. eight against the pennsylvania university the annapolis eight maintainea its fine crew, which had hard work to beat the record. the "middies" finished their ambitious youngsters by a length. two rowing season with a string of three vic- school eights rowed from the central man tories over columbia, georgetown and ual training and the central high schools yale, and were defeated only by the uni- of philadelphia, in which event the former versity of pennsylvania. this was almost the stone school and the cascadilla as satisfactory a season as that of last year, school eights were expected, but they when annapolis won every race in which raced each other on that day at boston. the crew started. in this year's race cornell enjoyed another year of aquatic against columbia the "middies" broke glory. rowing harvard at cambridge on the two mile record of their course by may th, the ithacans won by three and seconds, covering the distance on the a half lengths, making an easy pull of it. severn in minutes and seconds this victory was followed by another on at new london harvard won her first memorial day when the second cornell four mile race against yale since . crew won from pennsylvania after a hard it was a clean-cut victory of two and a fought race on lake cayuga. these pre half lengths, after one of the hardest bat- liminary exhibitions hinted that courtney tles ever seen on the thames. harvard would have one of his flawless 'and un won because of more power in her boat. beatable eights at poughkeepsie to make both crews were rarely smooth and fin- the intercollegiate regatta a walk-over, as ished, but yale was fairly rowed off her usual. feet in the last mile. coming after last as it turned out, the only interest in the year's remarkably close race, in which race on the hudson lay in the fight for yale won by less than a boat-length, this second place. cornell was pushed by impressive harvard victory shows that pennsylvania over four miles of a good race; rowing at cambridge has entered upon a but although ellis ward had the best crew successful era, and that the new london he has coached in years, the quakers could race will be worth going to see in future. not overhaul the splendid cornell eight, the time of this race, min. sec., was which won by a little more than a length slow, and does not show the class of these in minutes and seconds. syracuse crews, which under more favorable condi- fought her way into third place, two lengths tions broke all new london records in behind pennsylvania. practice. yale won the four-oared race these three crews formed the first with ease and the freshman race after a division, in a race by themselves. trailing thrilling tussle for two miles. won. a “pocket” golf course by van tassel sutphen theoretically, the golf course is on paper it would seem to be feasible, and i submit it in the hope that some enthusi- try estate, as much so as are the tennis astic confrère may think it worth the lawn and the squash court. in point of trouble of working out in actual practice. fact, private links exist in little more than references to the map of our imaginary name. seven or eight years ago, when the "pocket? course at once reveals its car- madness was at its height, many so-called dinal principle-condensation. it is un- courses were laid out over private grounds, necessary to argue the point that such a and while a few of them were well planned course would be unplayable under ordi- and properly installed, the great majority nary club conditions. cross play is mani- afforded but a mediocre arena for the festly impracticable on a crowded green, practice of the royal and ancient game. but on a private course we have only to nor is it difficult to assign the reason why. allow for the solitary couple, and that gives even premising that the requisite acreage us our opportunity. is available, golf and landscape gardening considering the diagram in detail, it do not meet on common ground. putting will be observed that the playing area lies greens, adorned by pretty red and white roughly in the form of a triangle. its flags, are all very well, but bunkers are width should be about yards at the distinctly out of place on a gentleman's base, and this may be reduced to yards lawn and shrubbery, and flower-beds and at the apex. the total length may be trees are particularly poor golfing hazards. placed at yards. a comparatively re- the view-points of the head gardener and stricted space, and yet it contains nine the greenkeeper must remain irreconcilable, complete and markedly individual holes and the ordinary compromise simply, re whose playing distance aggregates , sults in the mediocrity already alluded to; yards—a very respectable showing when golf in a stage setting is an absurdity: compared with the cramped measurements but even if we dismiss the puerilities of of the average private course and not a few lawn-golf there are other difficulties in the club links. way. how about the up-keep? on a although there are nine separate holes large estate it may be practicable to set there are only four greens, and this means aside sufficient acreage for a nine hole at once a saving of fifty per cent. in the course that shall be properly laid out and up-keep. in a modified sense this econo- adequately bunkered. to keep it in really my also applies to the fair green, as will be playable condition is another thing. of apparent at a glance. virtually, the whole course to the multi-millionaire this is of the fairway is in constant use and may merely a matter of money, but if expense be cared for en bloc. be an object, then the question becomes a in considering how to make the best serious one, for. it is no light thing to keep possible use of the purposely limited area the fairway and putting greens of a nine at our disposal, we will eliminate all ques- hole course in the pink of order. it must tion of local topography and deal with the be remembered that there is a minimum problem under the simplest and withal the of play on the average private course, and severest conditions. in other words, we every golfer is aware of the extraordinarily will assume that we have nothing but a beneficent influence of the human foot. cleared and level pasture at our disposal. as a rule, the more play the better for the to transform it into a golf course will course, and there is never any waiting at entail a certain initial expenditure depend- the tee on private links. ing upon the more or less elaborate nature the obvious remedy would seem to be of the bunkering, and may be modified at the substitution of quality for quantity. pleasure. the pond and brook at the back if the golf budget be insufficient for the of the - hole are not essential, as their proper maintenance of a nine hole course office may be assumed by a shallow sand let the number of holes be reduced. six hazard. good holes are better than nine poor ones, in the planning of the course the prime or we may even content ourselves with a object has been to conform to correct triangle and play around it six times to golfing standards as regards the length of complete the orthodox match. the ob the holes and the disposal of the hazards; jection here is as obvious as the remedy and secondly, to introduce the utmost ele- monotony is fatal and a round of this art ment of variety. it is in this last essential less character quickly degenerates into a that most nine hole courses are weak, and sporting treadmill. so indeed are many links of the full size. a difficult problem, then, yet an allur variety is the spice of golf, since the latter ing one to the contemplative golfer, and is assuredly an epitome of life. my solution is admittedly untested, but examining the four putting greens, it the outing magazine will be noticed that the - and the - are situated on the natural lie of the land and that they are plotted to be yards in diameter. thirty yards in diameter would be a preferable measurement, and of course their shape may be square instead of round. the – green is also yards in diam- eter, but it is placed at the bottom of an artificially excavated “punch bowl" with a circular sand hazard on its upper rim. the material taken out, together with that removed from the various pot-bunkers, has been utilized to elevate the - - green and also to form the turf banks that back up the latter. this green is the largest of the four and measures about by yards. it will be noticed that it contains three separate holes, but, if preferred, only one actual “tin" may be used. on the map, a sand pit is plotted before the green, extending about half way around it. the earth from this excavation may be used to still further build up the green above the general lie of the land. the putting surface, being artificial, should be approxi- mately level, while that of the other greens should preserve the natural undulations. we may now examine the separate holes and the play in detail. no. ( yards). theoretically, a "first” hole should be of fair length and of moderate difficulty. a drive and a brassey should place the player on the green, and the regulation two putts make up the bogey of . there is a half-moon sand trap behind the green to punish an over approach. no. ( yards). this seems like a long distance for a one shot hole, but since the green lies at the bottom of a “punch bowl,” a carry, of yards will clear the circular sand hazard and the roll of the ground will do the rest. there is a patch of woodland on the left, but the fair green is wide enough for all practical purposes. failure to carry the hazard means, of course, an extra stroke, and only the far and sure driver can hope to equal the bogey of . no. ( yards). the direct road to the green lies over a pot-bunker yards from the tee, and the trap is yards in length. we may play to either side, but preferably to the right. in front of the green is a sand pit bunker which is yards at its widest, the near cliff being perpendicular and the depth ranging from six feet in the middle to zero at the ex- treme ends. a drive and an iron should place us on the green, and we may ap- proach with confidence as the high banks at the back will stop a running ball. bogey no. ( yards). the play runs back over virtually the same golfing territory, and it is therefore necessary to obtain as much variety as possible. we therefore notice that the tee is elevated while the green is the “circus ring” or “punch bowl” that was used a short time before for no. . this serves to differentiate the play, but we want length as well and the distance in a straight line is only a trifle over yards. we therefore provide that the player's ball must pass the line flag. b (see map) on the left before it is in position for the hole. in other words, the ball can be only played for the green when it lies in the triangle marked by the line flags a, b and c. it requires a good drive of about yards to accomplish this; anything shorter or wilder will necessitate an extra shot to place the ball in position for the approach. this is a new principle in golf, although it has its counterpart in the “elbow" holes occasionally encoun- tered on ordinary courses. in the latter case, however, the obstruction to the straight course is a material one (generally a piece of woods), while here the restriction is purely arbitrary. but the principle is a perfectly simple and practicable one, and its exercise adds much to the interest of the hole. two perfect shots will put the ball on the green calling for a bogey of . no. . ( yards). this is the long hole. there are sand traps to catch a pulled or sliced ball, and the third shot must be a lofted approach over the bunker that guards the green. a pond behind the green imposes an appropriate penalty for an over-approach. bogey is . no. ( yards). the first one hun- dred and forty yards of the way lies over a wide and shallow sand hazard. a bas- tion-like bunker waits for the topped brassey and the approach is a gentle run- up. with ordinary play, the bogey of is not difficult. no. ( yards). the actual distance is only approximated, as the “law of the links" provides that the ball must lie be- hind the bastion bunker before the return journey to the green can be begun. a moderate carry of yards will accom- plish this, and the player will then have a brassey or a cleek shot back to the green, depending on his position. of course, if the ball fails to clear the bunker, or does not lie behind the line indicated by the flags d and e, it will be necessary to play a short shot for position. the principle is a modification of that employed in no. . with no mistakes, the hole should be played in the bogey of . the high banks back of the green provide against an over- play, but a pulled ball will find the sand pit hazard at the left of the green. no. ( yards). this is only a mid- iron shot, but it must be accurately lofted if the ball is to clear the half-moon bunker and stay on the green. of course, a bad top finds the depths of the sand pit. bogey is no. ( yards). again we have re- course to the "out-and-back" principle of no. in order to secure both length and variety of play. the law provides that the ball must lie behind the water hazard before it can be played for the green. two is ; a“ pocket" golf course ( ) s ( ) - oot ( ) bso ( ) ): - ( ) really good shots, that aggregate about a third consideration concerns the pro- yards, will accomplish this result and tection of the greens. on some courses we the normal bogey is consequently . are eternally running our ball up to entirely summing up, we find that the total unprotected greens, while on others we length is exactly , yards, or , yards are constantly confronted with the lofted for the double round. in the play, there approach. moreover, we do not want all will probably be brassey shots on the first, our hazards either in front of the green or fourth, fifth, sixth and ninth holes, or behind it. on our "pocket" course, the ten for the double round. this is rather a first, sixth and seventh holes call for a high average for, as a rule, the ordinary running up approach, while a loft is neces- course is weak in affording opportunities sary at the third, fourth, fifth and ninth. for full shots with wood through the green. (note that the second and eighth holes are but brassey play is a most important theoretically one-shot greens only to be factor in differentiating a first and a second reached by a stroke representing the full class course, and it would be perfectly value of the respective clubs used.) the possible to lay out a nine hole course ap proportion is in favor of the lofted shot, proximately , yards with not a full but the balance should properly incline in second shot in the whole round of play. that direction as tending to eliminate luck average your holes at yards apiece and flukes. and there you are. as to the disposition of the green another element that must be carefully, hazards, the third and eighth greens are considered in the lay-out of a 'classical guarded by bunkers, placed in front. course is the construction of the greens. no. has a trap behind and no. is (par- many links have all their greens arti tially) protected by a bunker on the left. ficially leveled, and this, of course, is op nos. – and - are entirely surrounded posed to all the traditions of the game. by hazards. nos. , and are built up but for the sake of variety in putting, we at the back to stop an ordinary overplay, may allow a certain proportion of the but a ball pitched beyond the bank finds greens to be leveled up while the rest are itself in the rough. the bunker in front on the natural lie of the land. in our of the third green belongs to the pit class, "pocket” course, the third, sixth and while the back hazard at no. - is water. seventh holes are on the level, and the as much variety as possible has been the others follow the natural undulations of object in view. the soil. În the general bunkering of the course again, greens may be elevated, de the cross-bunker is used only on the sixth pressed or situated on the general level and seventh holes. but it has been made of the fair green. referring to the map, of sufficient length ( yards) to prevent it will be seen that the – – green is sneaking off to either end. as it is in play slightly elevated while no. - lies in a both ways there is a trench on either side marked depression, and no. - and no. and the cop proper may be from three to - conform to the level of the fairway, five feet in height. pot-bunkers are in- this again adds to the variety of play and dicated on the third and fifth and sixth consequently to its interest. holes, and others could be introduced, if the outing magazine thought desirable, on the first, second and exterminated, as their holes are a continual ninth fairways. the triangular patch of annoyance. woodland or long grass, bounded by the it is upon the construction of our put- first, second and fifth holes, has its obvious ting greens that we must expend our most function in punishing wild shots. intelligent effort, for unless they are true as to hazards in front of the tees, a and smooth half the pleasure of the game topped ball at the fourth, fifth, sixth and is lost. what we want are greens covered eighth holes finds itself in difficulty-quite with a close sward of very hne grass with enough for this variety of hazard. out the roots thickly matted. the presence of-bounds is supposed to skirt the course of clover on a putting green is an abomi- of the fifth and sixth holes—in both cases nation, for the ball drags on it and the on the right. the tees for the fourth, slightest amount of moisture makes a tre- seventh and eighth holes have a moderate mendous difference in the run; one is elevation. nearly always short on the approach putt. bogey totals for the single round and equally objectionable is the so-called it is a rather stiff one, for a short drive summer or crab grass. this latter is a from the second, fourth, sixth, seventh, weed of the creeping variety and as it is a eighth or ninth tee will inevitably entail perennial the only remedy is to cut it out, the penalty of an extra stroke, and the root and branch. second shots on holes nos. , and are possibly the turf at our disposal may by no means kindergarten golf. the first approximate the thin-leaved variety, and and eighth holes are easy; nos. , and in that case constant cutting and rolling are moderately difficult; nos. , and will soon bring it into playing condition. call for first-class, steady play, and the or, failing that gift of fortune, we may home hole is the hardest of all. average play have some good turf at our disposal for would indicate a card of or thereabouts. resodding. in the latter case, after the on the map, sand traps are indicated sod is laid, a light top-dressing of soil or by dotted areas, and built up cops by road scrapings should be applied to fill up parallel lines. the wavy, concentric figure the cracks, and then a sowing of grass at green - represents a depression. seed. after the first heavy rain, the sur- return lines of play (seventh and ninth face should be pounded with a maul to holes) are marked by hyphen dashes. remove minor inequalities, and frequent our “pocket" course should accommo waterings and rollings will be necessary date three separate matches without crowd before the resodded green is really playable. ing, or danger, provided that the second if it be impossible to build up a green on and third couples should not start until the the old turf and good sod is not available, preceding match shall have holed out on we must then begin at the beginning. no the second green. this is necessary to one has given more thought and study to avoid meeting face to face on the - and this subject than mr. travis, and i take - holes. the following paragraph from “practical the practical construction of our course golf”: is a question that is difficult to discuss on "plough up the surface to the depth of paper. but a few hints may be of service. a foot or so and remove all loose material. to begin with the general character then proceed to fill in a layer of sand a few istics of the land, the heavy clays and the inches in depth and cover it with loam thin, stony soils are both of them ill-adapt about an inch or so thick; on top of this ed to golf. the rich meadow loams look put a thin crust of well-rotted manure, well to the eye, but the herbage is apt to be and then another layer of loam of two or too soft and rank to give the best results, three inches. at this stage apply a dress- particularly if the proportion of clover ing of bone dust with a touch of slaked be large. the ball does not sit up properly lime. cover this with a suggestion of on clover and has to be scooped away or sand and top off with loam, the surface even dug out. the ideal country for golf being raked and finely pulverized. sow is the sandy subsoil covered by a close liberally with a mixture of recleaned red growth of thin but rather stiff turf from top, rhode island bent, crested dog's which the ball may be nicely picked up tail and kentucky blue grass, and level with the wooden clubs. the famous sea off and roll with a very light roller." shore courses of great britain are all of as a rule, the chemical fertilizer should this true golfing character, but in this be avoided and the potash mixtures are country it is difficult to find even an ap particularly provocative of clover. pul- proximation to the ideal, with the excep verized sheep manure is about the best tion of a few especially favored localities- enrichment for average soils and it con- for example, garden city on long island. tains no weed seeds. the free use of sand speaking generally, we must make the will work wonders on heavy soil, and as a best of conditions as they are, for it is general thing putting greens err on the impossible to change the vital character side of being too rich. remember that it istics of our whole playing area. ob is not the over-luxuriant growth of a lawn viously, we will clear it of stones, trees, that is wanted. bushes and all coarse growth. if there are the best cop-bunkers are those whose rabbits already in possession they must be embankments are of sand, rather than the american athletes champions of the world ordinary turfed-over mounds, since the latter often permit the rubber-cored ball to run through them. the ditches should never be less than six feet wide, compara- tively shallow and filled with several inches of fine sand that will not pack. the same considerations apply to the con- struction of pot-bunkers or traps; their whole value lies in their capacity to stop a ball, and this they will not do if the sand packs. the proper quality of sand may have to be imported, but it is worth the trouble and expense. the tees on our model course are all on the level of the land, as they should be, and only, require to be made approximately level and their limits designated by iron marking pins. these should be changed as the ground shows signs of wear. the special problems in the construction of our pocket" links include a depressed 'punch-bowl” green and an elevated one (nos. , and ) backed by sodded banks. this, of course, necessitates regular grad- ing operations with road scrapers and carts and entails a considerable expense. the amateur golf architect must decide for himself whether the increased interest and variety of play thus secured are worth the money it will cost. as already noted, the earth from the deep pit in front of the - - green may be used to build up the level of the green proper, and also for the flanking walls at the back. it would be an interesting experiment if some enthusiastic amateur should under- take the construction of a model miniature course as herewith indicated (or on analo- gous lines), and the writer will be glad to lend his assistance in the practical working out of any particular problem that may present itself. american athletes cham- pions of the world by james e. sullivan "uncle same is. all right.”— these were the cheering words which came by cable to the victorious team of american athletes at athens, who had up- held american supremacy in these inter- national games against all comers. the olympic games of , held at athens, april d, under the manage- ment of the king of greece, were, without doubt, the most imposing athletic spectacle the world has seen. the direct manage- ment of the games was in the hands of a greek committee of ten men, of which his royal highness the crown prince, was president, and to this committee is due the thanks of the whole athletic world for having brought them to such a successful conclusion. other olympic games, such as those held at athens in , at paris in , and at st. louis in , suffer by comparison. never before, in the history of the world, had there been such a gathering, and no- where else, do i believe, is it possible to duplicate the olympic games in the manner in which those of were con- ducted. the stadium is built of solid pentelic marble, and will hold over , people- between , and , in seats- while the corridors and aisles, if necessary, accommodate between , and , more. during the games i doubt if on any day the spectators numbered less than , , and on marathon day there were close on to , people within the gates. everything combined to make the games the pronounced success they were. king george was in daily attendance; the crown prince, prince george, prince nicholas and prince andrew never missed an event, and, on the opening day, his majesty the king of england and queen alexandra were with the royal party. prince george, who was president of the jury, acted as referee, and he and prince nicholas conducted the games in a highly satisfactory manner. at these games the athletic supremacy of the world was settled; every country being represented by its strongest men. aside from the stadium athletic events, the committee had arranged shooting, swimming and fencing contests; football , bicycling, boating of all descriptions, lawn tennis, etc. these events, of course, could not be held in the stadium, and, when possible, were conducted in the morning, that nothing would interfere with the games proper. the swimming and boating con- tests took place in the bay of phaliron. there were twenty-four olympic events contested in the stadium. the american team, under the management of mr. m. p. halpin of the new york athletic club, were in fine condition, with the possible can the outing magazine the opening event every seat would be occupied, while the adjoining hills formed advantageous spots for some , to , who could not afford to pay the entrance fee to the stadium. summary of events meter run . archie hahn, america. time: - sec. . f. moulton, . nigel barker, australia. america had four of the six starters in the final heat. i meter hurdles . r. g. leavitt, america. time: - sec. . h. healy, australia. . v. dunker, germany. meter run . p. h. pilgrim, america. time: - sec. . w. halswell, england. . nigel barker, australia. this was contested in six heats and a final. hill- man, american champion, was in the final notwith- standing an injured leg. the rope. meter run . p. h. pilgrim, america. . j. d. lightbody, america. . w. halswell, england. time: min. i - sec. a , meter run . j. d. lightbody, america. . macgough, scotland. . hellstrom, sweden. time: min. sec. mile run . h. hawtrey, england. time: . j. svanberg, sweden. min. - sec. . ed. dahl, sweden. daly, of ireland, finished third, but was disquali- fied for crowding by prince george. exception of james s. mitchel, harry hill- man, harvey cohn, f. a. bornamann and h. w. kerrigan, who were hurt by, a heavy sea striking the barbarossa on her way to naples. martin j. sheridan was also disabled, but not seriously enough to prohibit him from scoring the greatest number of points of any athlete entered. america won eleven firsts; great brit- ain, with all her possessions-england, ireland, scotland, australia and canada. — won four firsts; greece won three firsts; sweden won two firsts; russia, austria, and germany each won one first. the good all-round work of the ameri- can team of track and field athletes is shown in the score. america was placed in sixteen events; but not placed in the five mile run, throwing the discus (greek style), throwing the javelin, the pentath- lum or all-round championship, the bar- bell, dumb-bell, tug-of-war and climbing it can be truthfully said that the majority of the events in which we were not placed were not practiced in this country. great britain had men placed in eleven events. sweden's athletic team was surprise. they performed remarkably well in the stadium, finishing third in the num- ber of points scored, and having men placed in eight of the athletic events. the greeks scored in eight of the stadium events. they, however, lacked the practical knowledge of athletics and athletic training; but it is confidently expected that in the con- ditions will be different and the greeks will have learned a great deal from the ameri- can and english athletes. in the competition for points all of the places were taken by representatives of the eleven countries. herewith will be found the official score of firsts, seconds and thirds, according to the point system, allowing for first, for second and for third. the entry list was a large one, ; taking in all of the events. of this number, greece had competitors; france, ; great britain, ; sweden, ; denmark, ; norway, ; america, ; italy, ; bohemia, , and austria, . the inter- national character of the meeting is best told by the entries. the countries repre- sented were greece, including athens, sparta, salonica, smyrna, samos, isle of cyprus, isle of crete, thessaly, and the grecian archipelago; america, including two entries from robert college at con- stantinople; great britain, including eng- land proper, ireland, scotland, canada, and australia; germany; france; swit- zerland; bohemia; egypt; russia; hun- gary; austria; norway; italy; holland; denmark; sweden; turkey (constanti- nople); belgium and finland. the interest taken in the olympic games was astonishing. as early as o'clock each day thousands would make their way to the stadium, and long before throwing the discus-free style . m. sheridan, america. ft. - in. . georgantes, greece. . jaervinnen, finland. the discus is thrown from a -ft. circle, the con- testant taking any position he desires, but he must not follow. throwing the discus-greek style . jaervinoen, finland. ft. in. . n. georgantes, greece. . mudin, hungary. the discus is thrown from a pedestal in. long, in. broad, in. high in the rear and in. high in front. the contestant is allowed to follow. marathon run ( kilometers- miles, approximate.) . w. j. sherring, canada. time: . j. svanberg, sweden. hrs. min. . w. g. frank, america. - sec. fifty-three men started in this race, thirty-three of whom were greeks. sherring spent some weeks at athens, prior to the event, making himself familiar with the course. throwing the stone . georgantes, greece. ft. - in. . m. sheridan, america. . doridsas, greece. putting the shot . m. sheridan, america. ft. in . david, hungary. . lemming, sweden. standing broad jump . ray ewry, america. distance: . m. sheridan, to ft. in. . l. robertson, throwing the javelin . lemming, sweden. ft. in. . lindberg, (world's record). . soderstrom, the javelin is made of wood, about ft. in. in length, weighs about - lbs. and has a sharp iron point. this was a new contest for americans. . american athletes champions of the world s maspoli athletic pentathlum (all-round championship-five events.) . mellander, sweden. points . mudin, hungary. points . lemming, sweden. points this consists of five tests: -long jump without impetus; -hellenic throwing of the discus; - spear throwing; -olympic stade race; greco- roman wrestling match. the athlete scoring the least number of points is the winner. ii ft. in. . gouder, . soderstrom, . e. glover, pole vault france. sweden. america. lipting the bar bell-two hands . tofolas, greece. . kilos. . steinbach, austria. france. . rondi, germany. (schneiderreit, lifting the dumb bell-either hand . steinbach, austria. . kilos. . camilloti, italy. . schneiderreit, germany. , meter walk . g. v. bonhag, america. time: . donald linden, canada. min. - sec. . spetsiotes, greece. running broad jump . myer prinstein, america. distance: . p. o'connor, ireland. ft. - in. . h. friend, america. triple jump i. p. o'connor, ireland. ft. in. . c. leahy, . cronan, america. it was expected that prinstein would also win this event, but he hurt his ankle in the running broad. standing high jump . ray ewry, america. ft. - in. s leon dupont, belgium. . m. sheridan, america. (l. robertson, running high jump . leahy, ireland, ft. - in. goency, hungary. . diakides, greece. . kerrigan, america. rope climbing contest- meters . g. aliprantis, greece. time: - sec. . erodi, hungary. . kodsanitas, greece. tug-op-war . germany. . greece. . sweden. swimming and diving. in the swimming and diving competitions, held at phaliron, america was represented by c. m. daniels, american champion; f. a. bornamann, j. w. spen- cer, and marquard schwartz. daniels lived up to his reputation, winning his heat in the meter swim, and the final heat in i minute seconds- beating halmay, the hungarian champion, and healy, the australian champion. spencer, schwartz and bornamann were unplaced in their events. score of the stadium events america england germany sweden belgium hungary greece italy i i i i a is i meters sprint.. meters hurdle. meters sprint. meters sprint. meters sprint. mile run. marathon race..... standing broad jump. running broad jump.... standing high jump. running high jump.. hop, step and jump. pole vault. ...... discus, greek style... discus, free style... throwing the stone. putting the shot. ... throwing the javelin. athletic pentathlum. lifting bar-bell.... lifting dumb-bell... tug-of-war. . meters walk. rope climbing. total. i i i with i i how to make totem poles for log houses and shacks by dan beard wing dones b totems date back to savage times, set up in front of an alaskan native's hut, or emblazoned in colors and stamped upon a letter-heading, or tattooed with carmine and india ink on the bosom of a jack-tar. when we go to the woods it is for the purpose of leading a primitive life, so it is right and proper to associate totems with our abodes in the forest, and every camp should have a distinct emblem of its own; something by which one may, at a glance, distinguish one camp from another. thus, in speaking of permanent camps, log houses or wilderness homes, in place of calling them jones's, smith's, and brown's, we could say the beaver, or the fishhawk, the bear, or the woodchuck, according to the totem of the camp in question. if totem poles were erected at all the public and private camps in the north woods, it would add much to the picturesqueness and interest of the country. there is nothing about a log cabin or a totem which an expert axeman cannot make, and if you do not personally happen to be an adept with the axe, your guide or friend in the woods will do the axe work while you can make the plans, work with the saw and do the less skillful work. it is much less difficult to carve out totem poles than it is to build a totem bird; con- sequently we will devote most of the space in describing how to build a totem bird for the roof of the house or to surmount the top of a totem pole. inches, feet or yards, but for convenience in describing this we will suppose the log to be feet long). then at the distance of - feet from the end marked c (fig. ), saw the log in two at the line ab, then take the piece represented by the letters abhgf, and saw off from the g. end of the log a diagonal piece, shown by the dotted line fg; g being a point on the end of the log - of a foot from the bottom, and f, a point on the top of the log, - foot from the end. now mark another point at the bottom of the log at h, which is i - of a foot from the end, and cut off the part shown by hg. this will give you on the bottom of the log (fig. ), measure from the c end i- of a foot to a point marked e; then measure - of a foot on the end of the log to the mark c, and from c saw down to Ď, which is - feet from the c end of the log. after sawing down from c to d, saw in from e to d; this will cut out the block cde and give you fig. . fig. represents fig. . totem bird suppose that you cut in the woods a log feet long by i - feet in diameter (remember that these dimensions are only units of measure and may represent the head of the bird and fig. represents the body. do not be alarmed because the head of the bird is larger than its body; this is often a pecul- iarity of the totem birds. but to finish cl the body and make it more like that of a bird, measure i - of a foot from the bottom of the body (marked ln, fig. ), to a point m on the edge of the log, and saw off the piece nm. now saw a line lk, parallel with nm, and make it - of a foot from l to k. mark j on the back of the log at - of a foot from the lower end and then cut out the piece jkl. you will then have the body ready to fit on the head shown in fig. . fig. is a smaller log of wood - of a foot long and a scant one foot how to make totem poles for log houses and shacks are x in diameter. two of these logs will be the feathers on used for the legs of the totem bird; to more securely it make them fit upon the body a piece may be well to marked by op (fig. ) will have to be cut nail the brace from the end of each log. the dimensions across from the of the piece op are not given here because angle of the wing they are of no par to the upright ticular importance. board (as shown it is only necessary to in fig. ). the cut the diagonal piece upright board in off so that you shall this figure is be able to spike the supposed to be legs of the bird to its feet long; the body. two boards forming the tri- the tail angle are each of this wonderful about feet creature is made of long. for the splits, shakes or clap- principal wing boards, which feathers we need pieces of rough ma six boards, the terial rived from the first one being feet long, the second - log by the aid of a feet, the third - feet, the fourth - y x will tool known to woods feet, the fifth feet and the sixth feet. of men as a froe. nail the first one onto the apex of the tri- course mill lumber angle (as shown in fig. ). on top of this may be used in the nail the second one, then the third, fourth, place of the rived fifth and sixth, as represented in the material, but it is not diagram. the second lot of short feathers as appropriate as the are represented by boards with the square former. to fasten nds which are nailed in place after the the tail on the bird manner of the clapboards on the side of a arrange the parts as house, with the edges overlapping (figs. shown in fig. ; then and ). saw off the top ends of the tail feathers, the top of the wing as shown by the line must be shingled (as shown in fig. ). if rs (fig. ), after the edges of your large wing feathers are which take the y and so thick as to make the surface too uneven v' tail feathers, and for shingling, thin strips of wood can be nail them in place at tacked across them and the shingles nailed each side of the bird; to these next take w and w', strips. first x and x' and nail put on the them in place; this shingles a, will leave an opening b and c; in the center which is trim these covered by the tail feather y. figs. , jack-knife and io show the bird to the proper in its crude, uncarved shape to fit state with the tail and the space legs attached. fig. occupied by is the side view of the them on fig. bird; acb (fig. ) ; then are the wing bones, tack on the which are nailed to other shin- gether and hung from gles down to the bird's shoulders. fig. shows the front d (fig. ); view of the bird and fig. o the rear view. over abc we have put the bird together roughly so put the next that we may see that the parts will fit in row of shin- their proper places, but before we fasten gles, and the wings permanently to the body we overlapping must cover them with feathers, as in the them at case of the bird's tail. cba cut a shingle to represent are represented by shingles, shakes or the clapboards. in order that we may put marked ein za with your mach view the feathers one the outing magazine mcx vicw totem fig. the rest of the work is plain shingling until you reach the top where two or more of the shinglesshould protrude to represent shoulder feathers and conceal the wooden joint at this point. after this is done the wings may be hung upon the bird and adjusted to the position which best suits the fancy of the builder. in fig. are shown three braces, q, r and r' to hold the wings in place the braces and their position are largely dependent upon the angle at which the wings are attached to the body, and it is only necessary for the builder to remember that in making the braces for the wings he needs to make them secure as possible, and at the same time to place them in the position where they will be more or less out of sight. to model the head take the end of the log (which is now in the form shown in fig. ), and draw two lines across the center of the front end of it to represent the width of the bird's beak (as shown by fj and gh); then shave off the side of the log from k down to fj; do the same upon the opposite side, so that the log will now be in the form of a blunt-edged wedge (fig. ). to get the curve of the bill, cut off the line lm on fig. and next the line no. then it is an easy matter to trim off the uneven angle, and we will have the head in the form shown in fig. . in case the distance from the top to the bottom of the bird is considered too great, it may be modi- fied by cutting off a piece represented by pŘss (fig. ). the side of the bill may then be extended backward and flattened by trimming down the piece tuv to correspond with the rest of the beak. beak and the nostrils may be painted or carved, or both. when the head is finished it may be attached to the top of the body by a hard-wood peg driven down through an auger hole bored for that purpose, the wings spiked in place and the bird made to assume any pose you choose. swing the body forward or backward on the legs and then nail it securely in the position you desire. fig. shows the manner in which the wing-bones are nailed to the back of the bird; and fig. shows the bird half covered with feathers and showing the framework. fig. shows a killaloo totem bird made to be placed upon the ridgepole of a log house. in fig. the killaloo has the feathers carved upon its body and legs, but its back is shingled. this bird should be painted in very brilliant savage colors: red, black and yel- low. in making the totem the animals that you represent may be extremely crudely made, but there are certain char- acteristics which must be remembered when you are attempting to represent certain animals; for instance, if you make the beaver, you can make his head big or little, his body long or short; but his paddle- like tail must not be forgotten, neither must the chisel-like teeth, which are characteristic of the family to which the beaver belongs. the crest feathers at the back of the head are made by sawing off a triangular piece edb (fig. ), which leaves the back end of the log in the form shown by figs. , , and . the crest feathers may be indicated by cutting grooves or simply painting broad lines (as shown in fig. ); and in the same manner the eyes, the opening of the . a - - making the country home by eben e. rexford about the garden it comes. use. would soon wither and fall off. exami- t is a good plan to remove at least half nation showed great quantities of fungus the tomatoes that “set”. this throws growth on the plants. of late years the strength of the plant into the fruit spraying with bordeaux mixture has been left, and gives you a much better general resorted to, beginning about midsummer crop than you are likely to get if all the and keeping it up until the end of the fruit that forms is allowed to remain. season, which comes with the first hard frost. the result has been very satis- planting strawberries factory. those who are fond of this really delicious vegetable will do well to if you have strawberry beds to make, make a note of this. now is the time. it is not advisable to make another sowing of beets of the wait longer. spade or plow up the soil small, turnip-shaped variety to furnish well, and enrich it liberally. lay it out in material for one of the most appetizing rows, so that the hand-cultivator can be used pickles for winter use. they will be of to advantage in keeping down weeds and just the right size when canning season stirring the soil. the hand-cultivator is a in order to have them delicate great labor saver of the garden, and every and tender—as they must be to make a thing ought to be planted with a view to its fine pickle—see that the soil in which they set your strawberry plants about are sown is given a good dressing of a foot apart in the row, and let the rows manure. you cannot grow fine-flavored be at least three feet apart. i have been and fine-textured vegetables in a soil that asked to name a few of the best varieties has parted with most of its nutritive for garden cultivation, where quality is qualities. considered more than quantity. this is set out celery for the late crop of the something that cannot be done satis season. keep the plants growing steadily factorily, because a variety that does well by feeding them well and cultivating them in one locality may prove an utter failure thoroughly. here is another place where in another. soil has a great deal to do the hand-cultivator will be found indis- with successful strawberry culture, and pensable. as the earlier planting reach one must plant the kinds best adapted to sufficient size for handling, begin to earth the soil of his particular locality. i would them up, or blanch them by setting boards advise consulting local growers, always, up on each side of the row. let these before deciding on what kind to plant. boards come nearly to the top of the plants, that is the only safe plan for the amateur and almost meet at the top, that nearly to pursue. if runners start, shortly after all light may be excluded from the space the young plants become established, clip below. them off promptly, that all the strength of continue heading back the young canes the plant may go to its own development. of blackberry and raspberry plants, to you will depend upon it for next season's secure compact growth and branches well fruit, and it will need to concentrate all set with laterals. its vigor upon itself in order to be able to at this season asparagus stores up meet the demand that will be made upon material for the crop of next year, there- it then. old strawberry beds which seem fore manure should be used liberally, and too valuable to plow under will be bene the beds given the best of cultivation. if fitted by having all their old foliage mowed "rust, which is simply another name or burned off. for disease of a fungoid character, attacks spray the grape clusters with bordeaux this plant, cut the tops off at once and mixture, to ward off fungus and prevent burn them. it is well to go over the entire rot. continue to do this until they begin garden and gather up whatever you find to show signs of ripening. in it that looks at all "rusty," and add it i have found it advisable to spray cucum to the burning heap. if this is done each bers with this mixture. this is not gener year it will be conducive to the general ally done, but if it were, i feel quite confi health of the garden. dent that the so-called blight which is cuttings of currants for spring planting complained of in many localities during ought to be made now. it is a good plan the latter part of the season, could be to go over the old bushes and remove largely prevented. in the writer's vicinity from half to two-thirds of the growth of this vegetable is grown largely for pickling, the season. much of this can be used as and the crop formerly fell off at the time cuttings. these should be from six to when it ought to have been most profit- eight inches long. dig a little trench and able, because, the growers said, it "hlight set them in it in rows, all slanting in one ed.” young cucumbers would form, but direction. cover them to within an inch ) the outing magazine of their tips. pack the soil down well as you do this. not one in a hundred will be likely to fail. discard all but the im- proved varieties. sow spinach for a late crop, if you are fond of greens''-also beets. for this purpose, the seed should be thickly sown in a quick, warm soil to insure the rapid growth which is necessary to success. tomatoes intended for market should be gathered just as they begin to color, and spread out on layers of straw or hay, fully exposed to the sun. cover them at night to keep them dry. treated in this manner they will color better than when left on the vines and be far less likely to rot. early picking will not interfere with their flavor in the least. on the contrary their exposure to strong sunshine will give them a favor superior to that possessed by any left on the vines to ripen. of their strength is wasted. better watch them during the season of growth, and prevent this waste by not allowing un- necessary branches to develop. if there are any thin spots in the lawn, scratch over the surface of the ground and sow lawn-grass mixture thickly. this is better than waiting for the grass sur- rounding the spot to spread into it—better, because quicker in results. use the hoe about the lilacs. clip off every sprout that you do not have any use for. neglect to do this, and you will soon have such a thicket of these plants that they become a nuisance. kept with- in proper bounds they are about the best of all our shrubs, because of their entire hardiness, rapid development and great beauty and profusion of bloom. hybrid perpetual roses will require attention now if you want a fine, late crop of flowers from them. cut away all the weak growth. thin out the branches so that there will be a free circulation of air to prevent mildew. shorten the stronger branches and manure the plants heavily. bear in mind the fact that flowers are always produced on new growth, and without this you stand no chance of getting them. therefore a late crop of bloom depends entirely upon the continued ac- tivity of the plant, which must be en- couraged in all ways possible, but chiefly by pruning sharply, and feeding well. even then you need not expect many flowers, but the few you do get will be large and fine, and every one will repay you for all the labor you expend on the bush that produces it. mushrooms for the market mushroom growing for the market is very profitable, if properly managed. those having greenhouses can grow this delicious vegetable under the benches to advantage at this season. it will do well in cellars where the temperature can be kept at about fifty or sixty. this should be kept as even as possible to secure best results. collect a lot of fresh horse- manure, rejecting the coarser portions of it. spread it out, to prevent premature heating, and fork it over several times, at intervals of a few days, before using it. make the beds about eighteen inches deep, three or four feet wide. pound the manure down well. let it ferment thor- oughly before spawning it. test its tem- perature with a reliable thermometer, by inserting the instrument in the soil, and leaving it there until the full temperature of the bed is registered. when it indicates eighty or ninety degrees, sow your spawn, which should be of the best, and which can be procured of nearly all seedsmen or florists in the larger towns. break it in pieces about the size of a small egg, and put it two inches under the surface and about six or eight inches apart. after about a week's time cover the bed with two inches of fine loam and wait for results. about the flower garden mauve about the home grounds perennial phlox will be coming into bloom now. note the disposition of colors in the bed and mark for removal any that fail to harmonize with the general color- scheme. the lilac and sorts, though very lovely by themselves, are elements of discord when grown along with the scarlet and carmine varieties. put them where they can have the contrast of pure white kinds only and they will delight you. never depend upon self- sown plants for your stock. perhaps they may prove to be like the parent varieties, but the probabilities are against it. as a general thing they revert to the original type, which is not at all what you want, if you are particular about your plants. the only way in which you can obtain the choicer varieties is by buying them of the florist, who propagates them by division of root-never from seed. it is possible that you may get some really fine plants from seedlings, but you can never depend on doing this. another hint is, use a good deal of the white sorts if you want to bring out the rich coloring of the dark sorts most effectively. contrast heightens them wonderfully. complaints come in that the borer, which of late years has done so much harm among many kinds of fruit trees, has begun to work on the mountain ash, and a remedy is asked for. i know of but one, and that is a wire stiff enough to kill the grub by running it into the hole he has made. go over the shrubs, and wherever you find a branch growing that does not seem to be needed, cut it off. do this with a sharp knife to avoid mutilating the plant. by putting off the pruning of shrubs until the season of growth is ended, a great deal making the country home among the house plants if the hollyhocks show signs of rust, as shift about, as that would prevent the quite likely they will at this season, be formation of roots. prompt in the use of bordeaux mixture. see that it gets to every part of the plant, and especially to the lower side of the look well to the chrysanthemums, foliage. if any stalks are badly affected whether growing in beds or pots, as this it will be well to cut and burn them at is a critical period for them." give them once, to prevent the spread of the disease their last pinching back this month, as as much as possible. they will begin to bud by the first of see that the dahlias are well staked. september. see that they are well staked, keep them well watered. allow no weeds for a sudden wind-storm would work sad to grow about them. mulch the soil above havoc among top-heavy plants of their their roots with grass clippings. brittleness. be constantly on the lookout treat beds of teas and other tender roses. for the black beetle. he is likely to come of similar habit in the same way. let at any time. if he puts in an appearance the mulch be two or three inches deep. use the ivory soap infusion mentioned this breaks the force of the sun's rays, last month, and use it thoroughly until he thus helping to keep the roots of the plants concludes to take his departure, as he soon cool, and it prevents rapid evaporation of will, if you go in for heroic treatment. moisture-two items of great importance if your plants are growing in the garden, in the cultivation of these roses. two get ready for potting them early next other important items are: a frequent month. prepare your compost, get your shortening of the branches, as advised pots together, and fix up some kind of a for hybrid perpetuals, cutting back to a shelter to put them under for a week or strong branch-bud; and very rich soil. ten days after potting them. sow seeds of hardy perennials from roses grown in pots will need re-potting which to secure a stock for next season's now, in order to get them growing vigor- flowering. young plants are greatly pref ously for winter. use a rather heavy soil, erable to old ones. those which get a as these plants like to feel the earth firm good start this year will bloom strongly about their roots, not too large pots, and next, but plants from seed sown in spring see that drainage is as good as it can be cannot be depended on to give flowers the made. separate old plants of boston, pierson if you have choice varieties of clematis and foster fern, and start new plants from whose stock you would like to increase the division of their roots. give them a without disturbing the old roots by divi soil of leaf mold or turfy matter and loam, sion, lay down some of the lower branches, with some sharp sand mixed in; water and cover with about an inch of soil. them well, and keep them in shade. these will root at their joints and furnish shower them daily. use a handful of you with good plants for another year. fine bone meal to each pailful of compost. but do not separate the branch you lay in this way you will get much finer plants down from the parent plant this season. for winter use than you can make out of wait to see how the young plants come the old ones. out in spring, before doing that. it may i would not advise entire re-potting of be found advisable to leave them a while geraniums intended for use in the winter longer, to form roots strong enough to window-garden. remove as much earth warrant you in making independent plants from the top of the pot as you can without of them, and while they are doing that they seriously disturbing the roots below, and must draw their support largely from the substitute fresh soil for it. geraniums, as old plant. a general thing, do not have many roots, nearly all plants of shrubby character therefore large pots are not needed by can be increased by layering. it is a them. i supply my plants with nutriment good plan to make a little cut at the place in winter by the use of such fertilizers as where roots are expected to form. take bone meal, or some of the chemical foods a sharp knife and cut up about half way which contain the elements of plant through the branch, from the lower side. growth. if this is done with all pot- insert this cut in the soil, bending up the plants, smaller pots will answer all pur- end of the branch till it assumes an upright poses, as a large quantity of soil is not position. it may be necessary to make depended on to supply nutriment. the portion of branch covered by soil firm if there are any changes to be made in its place by placing a stone on it, or by about the windows at which you grow pegging it down well. it is quite impor flowers in winter, it is well to make them tant that it should not be loose enough to now while the plants are outside. first year. how to acquire “hands” on your horse by f. m. ware " ands” may perhaps be defined as on the floor, with knees bent at right angles, and you'll find yourself sitting as you never ively controlling, a horse, through manipu sat before, and driving as you never lations of the bit or bits; frustrating his knew you could. efforts at insubordination; and developing in riding, attitude has all to do with his greatest powers of speed, of action seat-and seat is hands; or rather, you and of agility. the possession of good can never develop hands if you have not hands on a horse,” whether for driving or a perfect, and an unconsciously balanced, riding, is a horseman's proudest and rarest seat. all seats—from the nearly straight possession, occupying a pinnacle in his lines of legs and body in the cowboy rider regard which in most cases he personally to the acute angles of the modern jockey, never attains; generally through a mis are the same in effect so far as the center apprehension of what hands really are, of gravity is concerned; all hands, from and how they may best be cultivated. those of la haute école to those of the last strangely enough the acquirement of crack lightweight, are developed along this accomplishment depends but little the same elementary lines, and depend for upon the hands themselves, and the title success upon the attitude of the rider in is really a misnomer. hands, whether the matter at issue. “head up, shoulders n driving or riding, consist of the following back, waist hollow, seat down in the factors: attitude; sympathy; decision; in saddle,” is no mere riding-school routine tuition; delicacy of touch; nerve; com formula, but the gist of the whole matter mon sense, and practice. the more you of acquiring hands. again, attitude is a use horses the more you will find that huge percentage of the whole. these are the elements involved, and that sympathy, in a way, is the same as the hands themselves are merely the agents another important element-intuition- of the human will-nearly useless, if the but in this connection is used chiefly to other essentials are wanting or undevel indicate the faculty of instantly discovering oped. to these various elements any one how a horse is mentally: how he likes can award such percentage of importance things arranged, how far he should have as he may elect, but he is certain to find his way, how best to handle his mouth and that the chief one is attitude. to bit' him, how to reward his obedience, attitude is of vital importance-not the how to frustrate his rebellion, etc. many grotesqueness of position which so many horsemen, while giving much time and affect, but the erect carriage (when driv thought to the capable handling of horses, ing) with hollowed waist, sitting fairly on fail signally after all, because they lack the thighs, and neither perched against a sympathy with a dumb beast; have not too-high cushion on the one hand, or the faculty of putting themselves in the slouching on the backbone with rounded horse's place, as it were; are too domineer- shoulders on the other; the feet under the ing or impetuous to allow any departure weight, rather than braced out in front; from the process of what they determine the elbows neither absurdly akimbo, nor is proper. sympathy prevents quarrels. glued to the ribs, but falling naturally; a horse quickly perceives the lack of it, the hands carried neither under the chin, and will work his heart out for a man nor in the lap, but about opposite the who has it. as a man said to the writer watch-chain. the exaggerated position recently, of a passing equestrian: "there of the latter-day "flash coachman, and goes the biggest duffer on a horse i ever equally. "flash" amateur, perched on the saw, but it's funny how he buys bad- edge of the cushion, with the heels back tempered, crazy brutes and they all carry against the seat-riser, and the knees very him quietly: close study of this inter- much bent, has at least the advantage that esting individual proved that he was (to the waist must be hollowed, the position all appearances) exactly as described, erect, and the feel—the “take and give” having apparently no other attribute of of the hands much more elastic and subtle. equestrianism save a wholesome well of try it, and see how you and the horse “get loving sympathy which the dumb creatures together” as you never have done before, recognized and appreciated as we of nobler and how much more easy it is for you intellect wholly failed to do. moral: sym- both. never mind the foot-brace against pathy, merely as a work-a-day mercan- which you have always rested your feet tile asset, is not to be undervalued! that is placed there in an arbitrary way this god-given attribute it is which by the carriage maker. put your feet flat enables the average woman to get on so how to acquire “hands” on your horses surprisingly well with horses. alice will accident · their methods may, at a crisis, tell you with gentle pride how moonlight seem rough, but whatever they are, they recognizes her voice, her touch on the comprise the one particular' treatment reins, and all those other dangerous fables needed at that one particular moment. this so dear to the feminine heart. moonlight is hands in the finest development, and does nothing of the kind-he would not intuition makes the thing possible. know her from adam (or rather eve) delicacy of touch is where the average among a crowd, but he would recognize and amateur "falls down.' he has a general respond to her sympathetic influence just idea that "hands" means just touching his as he would to that of any other woman horse's mouth, and that to pull or to handle whom he had never seen before, were she the mouth roughly is always wrong. hence equally blessed with that divine sentiment. his horse is generally “behind the bit,” granted this one boon, a horse will forgive and does not face the hand at all, being much. neither collected nor always under con- decision should never, in handling horses, trol. nothing is more dangerous in every be confounded with unwise determination sense, for both the animal and his pilot to have things your way. in this appli- should always be prepared to stop, start, cation it means the faculty of doing the or turn in any direction, and this can be right thing at the right instant, and may assured only when the horse is in hand. be cultivated by frequent practice with all a delicate touch is perfectly possible even sorts of horses, and of course no hands in the most severe forms of collection; were ever developed by handling any one firmness and roughness are by no means animal, or any one kind of horse. it is the same thing. the horse must face his decision that gives the hand the moment bit, and if he does not otherwise, the whip the horse yields; that uses the roughest must make him. delicacy of hand is a methods at a pinch, for hands are by no graduated scale which applies to the puller means always delicate of touch; that as well as to the sluggard, and gets the best frustrates the most determined attempts results from both. if any one plays upon of kicker, rearer or bolter; that picks the a musical instrument well, he will certainly best road; that makes the animal carry have a light touch on a horse's mouth, and himself to the best advantage for the pur as most women possess such accomplish- pose of the moment. decision is very ments, this, together with their sympa- close to intuition in effect. decision thetic natures, gives them that success dominates the situation at many critical with horses at which we so often wonder. moments, and the horse is quick to discern mere strength has no value in these pur- and to presume upon its absence. there suits, and those possessed of it are almost is no such thing as a safe partnership with invariably as heavy-handed with a single a horse; you must be the master, or he horse as are those who drive four-in-hand will be, to your certain future discomfiture. a great deal, or who have essayed it before intuition is so akin to sympathy that driving one horse much. they go hand-in-hand, and in horseman nerve is so much a matter of perfect ship we have no finer exponents of its de physical condition in the biped that it velopment under all sorts of conditions than may always be greatly improved, and the among the “nagsmen” who ride and drive last element-practice will do much to 'green, rough sale horses, or, better strengthen it. we have usually ample still, handle the dozens of horses, possessed nerve in any pursuit, however hazardous, of every imaginable vagary of temper and to which we are thoroughly accustomed, infirmity of physique, that come to the and, barring too many or too serious acci- large auction sales. most of these animals dents, this is sure to be the case in handling arrive on the day of sale with no instruc horses. their management then becomes tions as to their personal peculiarities; so nearly automatic that we do not think the “nagsmen” never see them until they much about it-and it is only what the start to show them for sale, and their jobs mind dwells upon that affects nerve. any depend upon their displaying the animals parents who, given the means, do not to the very best advantage in the two insist upon their children's intimate ac- minutes or so allotted to each horse. the quaintance with, and personal management success these men have is really marvelous, of, horses-for at least all pleasure purposes due to a liberal education in horse hand -neglect a most important item of a liberal ling and a remarkable evidence of the value education, and deliberately interfere with of intuition in the matter of hands; for the development in their children of the while they probably could not tell you just vital elements of self-dependence, patience, why they do what they do, results speak good temper and coolness, or nerve, in for themselves, and the puller, the one emergencies. rein driver, the kicker, the balker, the common sense—and horse sense are crazy and the gentle, the speedy and the naturally included in the list of neces- slow, the high-stepper and the trotter-all saries. this happy faculty is a regular do their best with them. these same men, stopgap everywhere and anywhere among every day and all day, handle green, timid the various other attributes, and lacking horses among all sorts of terrifying city such intelligence no success is possible. sights, and yet practically never have an the habit of observation, of imitation, of the outing magazine appropriating the worthy points in any undertaking, is absolutely a matter of healthy mental digestion. if one cannot appreciate the reasons for all the methods he sees used, and adopts for himself, he should at least resolve to accept nothing for which he cannot give a thoroughly good argument to himself. a horse is never to be whipped, jerked, etc., unless one has a reason for the act-yet not half the time does the brain thus justify the deed. we rarely do anything as well as we really know how, but hands are so automatic, once they are acquired-just as is piano-playing, etc., to the adept- that we are foolish not to genuinely try our best while practicing. practice makes perfect in most things, but not in horsemanship-nor penman- ship. one may follow both persistently, and be a wretched performer all his days. we all make mistakes in using one horse, or one kind of horse, too much. it is this fact that makes the "shopper” for “a good, quiet, family horse" the most dreaded customer the dealer has. mr. tyro has probably possessed one billy or jacky for a period of years, and it is only this sainted creature's inevitable passage to the bone-yard that secures mr. dealer the honor of his eulogistic owner's pat- ronage. every animal displayed must be cut according to jacky's coat, and the horse finally selected musi put up with the vagaries not only of mr. but of mrs. tyro, and of all the little tyrocs. these good people, having practiced with only one horse, are quite ignorant that there are "horses and horses.' accidents happen; the bewildered dealer suffers mentally, and financially; and mr. tyro arises from the couch of pain where the catastrophe probably placed him quite uninstructed by his experience, and unaware that it was chiefly his own fault. while "all horses are alike" to an expert, he did not gain his proficiency until he had run the gamut of all the freakishness to which horseflesh is heir. he plays his tune as it were, not on his own piano whose touch he thoroughly knows, but upon any instru- ment he encounters, and that brilliantly and unerringly. what he does almost any one may do, and be assured that such proficiency is well worth while. where is the man who does not exult in controlling and displaying to the best advantage that glorious animal, the horse? strength has nothing to do with hands -or rather, it is a distinct drawback to their acquirement. the weakling must use other means to attain his ends; the strong man disdains the delicate effects which make for everything of the best in horsemanship. a little, eighty-pound boy will control perfectly a rattle-brained race- horse that no man could hold by main strength: a slight woman will guide four horses as few men can in- it is the combi- nation of the attributes named that enables them to do it. appropriate bitting has much to do with success, but the novice is apt to pro- ceed to the extremes of severity in his desire to get that delicacy of touch and promptness of response which he thinks should follow sharp restraint. the re- verse of this should always be the rule, and the horse should be constantly tried with lighter bitting effects until the least possible restraint is employed. hands and mouths vary from day to day, according to various circumstances of irritability and sensitiveness, and no one arrangement is likely to be for the best interests of both biped and quadruped. a balanced horse is always a light-mouthed horse, and it is “up to” the driver or rider to find what best brings about this result. no balanced horse can pull; no puller is in balance. in both driving and riding the one- handed exponent is at a disadvantage, and so is the horse. the animal has two sides to his mouth, both (with the tongue) alert to your signals; you have two hands, and will need them in any really delicate work.' this, of course, does not prevent your riding or driving with one hand at ordinary paces, and in straight going; but if any complications arise, both hands will find plenty to attend to. the cowboy, the cavalryman, the street-car driver, all use one member alone, and none of them has any hands worthy of the name. an ani- mal which "guides by the neck” in riding simply performs a trick which he has for convenience's sake been taught, and the fact that he does so, and has proven in- telligent enough to puzzle out your con- fusing indications, in no way enhances the value of one-hand riding in the case of the ordinary civilian, or proves it genuinely or generally practical. no seat will be perfect, no body-poise square, if one hand is used, for the reason that fatigue will bring about a displacement which will be- come habitual, and for which the horse must compensate in his own carriage and balance. the fingers and the wrists have all to do with the manipulation of the mouth, and not the arm or forearm. there is a con- stant play of the finger muscles to keep the mouth alive; there is an elasticity in the wrists which greatly assists the fingers; the reins are not held with a tense grip in ordinary use, but so that the fingers, when needed, instantly close to the required extent. no one can maintain a really tight grip for more than a few minutes. to this fascinating subject one might devote pages, and then include but a moiety of the details and incidentals. perhaps, however, enough has been written to call attention to the fact that of all the essentials of hands, the least important factors are the bands themselves! choosing the field trial dog by joseph a. graham n entering the sport of field trials the kind of work. look for the little rascal which runs all over the country, finds general rule which applies to bench show something in a hurry and dashes gayly in beginnings—should select his young speci for a crazy chase. if he cannot deny mens from families deeply bred in the himself the luxury of killing a stray chicken qualities which judges demand. it is good for his public prospects. a a great many people are deceived by brief hesitation on a find, as if he would superficial observation into believing that point if he were not in such a hurry, is a dogs win field trials by great speed and good sign for future pointing, but not in- range. speed is a requisite, to be sure. dispensable. be dubious about the can- if two dogs do the same bird work, and didate which noses around over scent, or one does it more rapidly than the other, spends too much time in a clump of bushes. the former will win. but the real quality carrying the head low indicates a con- is intense birdiness. that makes speed stitutional tendency to trailing on foot oftener than is supposed. the intense scent; and that is not of the elect. hunting instinct, or desire to find birds, style in motion or on point is excellent, tends always to increase speed and range. but its value may be exaggerated. in the failure of english bench show setter motion, style usually means tail action. blood to distinguish itself in american nothing is more attractive, and it wins field trials is not due to a lack of speed, or some field trials; but it has no significance even of range. about a year ago i saw beyond the taste. on point, style means a young setter, three-fourths laverack, an erect, graceful attitude, with stiffened which had more speed than anything in tail and intent look. that also helps to the string, and as much range as any, but win stakes, but some great winners crouch he had not that concentrated enthusi on point and others are not stylish. asm about birds. in a half-hour heat his powers of location are of the highest range would become irregular. he would importance, though they are hard to meas- trifle at times; would run around aim ure in a raw youngster. by watching lessly. a man whose enthusiasm is ex closely, however, you can see whether he clusively bent on one purpose builds up knows exactly where his game lies. if he fast, though his natural capacity may not goes right at it, whether he points or be great. he develops a sixth sense; his chases, his ideas on the subject are ob- nerve centers and muscles become specially viously clear. some people are proud of adjusted. a dog proceeds the same way; dogs which stop fifty yards from a bevy, În picking puppies or year-olds for field point and road, point and road, until, trials it will be waste of time and money after a while, they establish their points to go outside of the families which have somewhere in the neighborhood. this been successful. an appearance of speed shows wonderful nose, the happy owners and conformation does not mean much, under some circumstances it compared with bird-searching inheritance. does; but the dog of really good nose and whether or not the dictum provokes dis class keeps going fast until he catches pute, an experienced man can only say scent, stops to inquire a second, and then that the llewellins in setters and the goes straight to his birds. when trying jingo-rip rap blood in pointers are the young ones never lose sight of evidences foundations. of this quality. if you have a chance to take your pick out of a litter of puppies, take those of selecting a handler quick, alert appearance; preferring, prob- ably, the small ones. if they are over selecting a handler is harder, even, than eight months old, make it a point to have picking a dog, assuming that you start your handler try them out thoroughly. without knowledge. some handlers are if he knows his business he can guess with successful with dogs of one kind and not fair accuracy after he has had them on at all with others. good handling often birds a week. makes good dogs; good dogs sometimes perhaps you must try them yourself. make handlers. young handlers lack ex- in that case do not be fascinated with perience; old ones often have too many pretty pointing: a young dog which at dogs to give yours the desirable amount eight months is fond of pointing will of attention. all these chances, or their scarcely become a field trial dog. more equivalents, you take in any sport. don't than likely he will be a false pointer in any hold back because you are not certain of tell you. the outing magazine perfection. choose a young trainer of aptitudes, of an old one of reputation. pitch in and take the risks. lose like a gentleman and profit next year by your experience this year. it's the sport and not the winning which ought to interest you most. don't denounce the handler behind his back, unless you know that he isn't straight. if he is crooked or incapa- ble, quit him, and don't talk about it. go to the trials yourself, ride after the dogs every day, listen to the comment in the evening, and keep your eyes open all the time. one season so utilized will give you command of all there is to know about the sport of field trials. beagle trials sour are within ten miles. plenty of practice and reasonable attention to whistle or horn are about all you add to what is born in them. separate stakes are generally provided for hounds of thirteen inches and under, and for those between thirteen and fifteen inches. i'd rather have the little ones, but a novice would better begin with the larger size. as the natural tendency is to breed larger all the time, there is less difficulty in finding good hounds of near the fifteen-inch limit. whether universal or not i can't say, but my own experience is that the larger specimens work more freely, are less likely to be sulky and shy -a besetting beagle sin-and are more intelligent. in picking beagle pups, you must not be turned away by first evidences of sulkiness and shyness. beagle character has its peculiarities. some of the little chaps are as friendly and jolly as spaniels. some are suspicious and averse to human atten- tions. which are going to be the better workers you cannot tell. the jolly ones are often quitters when work begins. the as often the keenest, surest trailers. give them all a chance. it doesn't take much money or space to keep twenty beagles until you can weed out what falls below the standard. when we mention weeding out we get to a cardinal principle which applies to our operations in bench show or field trial lines. i won't say drown, though that is the strict dog man's rule, but you must unhesitatingly, get rid of undesirable pup- pies or inferior adults. give them to friends who need pets; send them out in the backwoods where they will never be again heard from; anything, so you don't keep them. while winning is not the sole or chief object of sport, you must do your best to win, or be a fool. no man should put down a dog which has not a respectable chance to be favorably con- sidered by the judges. buy the best, if you can buy only one. breed to the best if you can afford to breed only once a year. instantly discard a failure. take some trouble to go where the best are in com- petition. if you don't know, and are dependent on advice, don't swallow the first book you see, or the first article in a dog, paper. it is often just writing, with nothing behind it except that very easy thing called thought. some men who really know get run away with when they write. such men write lots of stuff they don't mean. knock around with professionals or canny amateurs. re- member that the cleverest will be slowest to talk, on an average. the man who talks all over a subject on short acquain- tance with it is a good fellow to pass on to somebody else who likes to kill time. in other words, pick them right and play it straight. in the west and southwest we think of setters and pointers when we speak of field trials. in the northeastern one-fourth of the united states there seems to be fully as much interest, and much more amuse- ment, in beagle trials. it is always to me a matter of surprise that more people, men and women, do not keep small packs of little hounds. beagles are easily bought, easily kept, easily trained and easily hunted. there are a hundred rabbit lo- calities where there is one reasonably stocked with quail. the american rabbit, or hare, is ideal for beagle work. to this day i have never got over the feeling that, for real, whooping, yelling, boyish fun, there is no sport with dogs equal to working beagles on cotton-tails. on the pure basis of entertainment out-of-doors, the man who cannot get a royal day with a half-dozen beagles and a couple of boys is pretty well beagles for trials are bred and chosen as are bird dogs for their kind of trials, or any dogs for bench show purposes-you depend on the specialized families. find out what families have consistently produced winners in recent years, and get puppies from the best specimens. pace, nose, finding and trailing are the essential qualities. handling helps a lot, but does not nearly play the part it does in field trials of setters and pointers. you have one great advantage over pointer and setter men. you can compete with a pack of four; if a club should so decree, there may be stakes for eights or tens. another advantage is that, with a trifle of experience, you can train and handle your hounds almost or quite as well any professional. after you have learned to pick your dogs and make up your packs, there is not so very much that you need to do in handling at a trial. trainers and handlers of bird dogs are chiefly occupied with the difficult business of making them do things they do not like to do. managing beagles is only helping them to do what they would instinctively do anyhow if there was not a human being dried up. you as the summer trout by clarence deming a the "he brook trout, salmo fontinalis, is of the most timid fish of the fifty, whose scientifically an invariable species. sudden dash to safety gives the warning whether a fingerling of the new england signal to all. a single nervous trout- brook, or a five-pounder of the range and there are usually several—is thus leys or the nipigon, he carries the same enough to scatter a big school in a flash tokens of his breed in red-spotted skin, and baffle the hopes of the angler. general similarities of form, and character this is in the smaller pools where, ex- of food. but by the test of habit, vary cept under certain conditions to be referred ing with the seasons of the year, he may to later, the fisher angles in vain. possibly almost be described as marked off into by standing far back, hidden by a bush on several species of fish. the orthodox a little rise of ground, he may take a single brook trout we all know in that heyday of fish before the summer school vanish- his activity which reaches its fullness in more likely they dash to cover the first the blossom time of late april or may. instant the fly or worm touches the sur- then it is that we find the trout of the face. but if the pool be large or of mod- eddy and the rapid chasing his food up to erate size, with no protective rocks or the very edge of the waterfall , rarely bank holes for the fugitive fish, a singular dropping below the ripple; the trout, change of habit is usually found. the lithesome, eager, leaping for fly or worm; school in that case are still shy. you and the trout that, with eye-sight dulled move forward and they swim away, and by the ripple and surge of waters, can be dropping fly or worm above them only angled for at comparatively short distance accelerates their speed. but they do and without tricks of precaution. some not scatter. they hang together as times he lies low at the bottom of the school. they move comparatively slowly current; sometimes he is so near the sur unless alarmed by some sudden and quick face that, as he swims, you may see the action of the angler; and, according as tip of his dorsal fin; sometimes he is they are approached from one direction or ranging with observant eye for his food the other, they swim in definite orbits up in the mid-waters; but almost always he and down stream. if the angler wades up is quick for his prey and a promising stream the school move down, and vice candidate for the creel. versa; and if he tries a slow and steady but as the stream drops low and the movement he will find that the up and waters grow warm under the sun of june down pace of the trout school corresponds or july, you will mark a change. the with his own and almost always over a fixed trout of the spring is transmuted as to stretch of the bottom. habit into a new fish of the summer. his this systematic action and reaction of objective point is now cool water. he a school of summer trout in a pool say a finds it in the springhole, in the edges of the hundred feet in length by fifty feet across, large stream where a shaded runlet either gives the angler a clue to his tactics. by enters directly or percolates through the å little finesse and preliminary study, he sands; or, if he cannot find these, look for can in most cases actually drive a certain him in the deeper bottoms of the pools. number of the school into taking the bait. living almost always in still water, his finding such a school at rest, the trout- eye catches every object on the bank. fisher will, of course, standing as far away thus he becomes preternaturally shy. as may be, fling the worm or fly lightly over how often has the angler, failing in summer or in front of the school-in nine cases out time to take a fish in the swift headwaters of ten frightening the whole school and of the pool, passed down, only to scare up not securing a single rise or bite. then a half dozen handsome trout in the still comes the taking trick. without throw- waters just below, and undergone this ing the hook soon again let the angler tantalizing experience over and over again move slowly up and down stream, noting through a whole day of vain and profitless the orbit of the trout group and especially fishing! marking, if he can, a part of the bottom but the shyness of the summer trout that is smooth and where the worm will of the still springhole is due not entirely lie conspicuously;, then, usually with line to his keen eye trained by the quietude of well paid out and bait lying on the bottom, transparent waters. it is to be credited drive the trout over the bait. the verb more to his gregariousness. the cool “drive," however, must here be used places and deeper pools of the trout with reservation, not—at least not usually stream are apt to be few and hive the fish -signifying a drive from behind the trout in schools. if the school number, say, school, but an up and down movement fifty fish, it means a hundred watchful eyes near or on the bank paralleling the slow and a collective shyness adjusted to that advance and retreat of the fish. a skillful the outing magazine trout 'fisher will often be able by his own movements to thus bring the trout to a dead halt right over the bait; and whether the school is at rest or moving slowly over the lure, the chances are that one of the bolder fish will take it and be hooked to his doom. this driving trick can often be repeated perhaps a dozen times success- fully, ending at last only when the whole school become too frightened to bite, or those fish that are in biting humor have been taken. it is to be repeated just here that the method can be worked only in those summer pools where the fugitive trout cannot scatter easily to hiding places and where they keep together as a school; and the device, for obvious reasons, can- not be effective with the fly. the summer trout of the little river has other variations of habit. his shyness when in a school seems to be singularly modified when alone. at such times he seems to be much less timid than in com- panionship; and, if facing a little cool runlet, it is surprising how tame he will now and then become. years ago the writer once saw an alleged sportsman trying to wire one of these lonely summer trout-a fish of about a pound weight which lay with its head under a rock- and by the snare lift the fish up to an angle of some forty-five degrees, seeking to pass the noose above the ventral fin. in the sequel the fish happily got away. the persistent sluggishness of the summer trout of the springhole under these conditions, when he has few or no companions to warn him, has often argued that the fish was either asleep or very sleepy. generally he refuses to take the bait even when it' lies right in front of his eyes. but touch his nose with it and, in perhaps one case out of three or four, he will take it. this fact strengthens the hypothesis of trout slum- ber, but is far from confirming it. the wise angler who finds such a solitary trout refusing the bait will do well to try the experiment of tickling the nose of the fish with the worm before surrendering the game. to the rule that the summer trout of the streams haunts deep cool waters and the springholes there is one exception. just at the first edge of a sudden rapid or low waterfall-the familiar corner where the foam of the eddy is crested with spray- an active summer trout will often be found in ardent biting mood. you may fish other edges of the rapids or the lower riffles all day without a fish, yet take half a dozen or more—not usually very large- in the little corners described. why the fish lies there is apocryphal. it may be a corner specially prolific in food, or perhaps a cubic foot or two of the water is a bit cooled just there by rapid evaporation of the spray. there are times, of course, when the schools of summer trout in the larger pools drop their shyness and become quick and eager biters. generally this is at the first break of day-less often at sunset and the early dusk. those feeding hours, when the hooked trout does not frighten the rest of the school, give the fly fisher his oppor- tunity. worm fishers and fly fishers alike, when they have "marked down” a spring- hole, will do well also to fish it under a rain brisk enough to dimple the surface, or- next best-during a wind strong enough at least to ripple the water. in the latter case, as a profitable study of the pool, watch for such a direction of wind as gives the breeze its longest and most wavy sweep. the wind may be pretty high, yet leave the pool unruffled if it hits it side- wise, especially under the protection of high banks or close brushwood. commonly it takes a rain pretty hard or pretty long or pretty cold to draw the schools of summer trout from the spring- holes of a good-sized stream into the rapids and riffles, and not often do they run up far, having, as it seems, instinctive knowl- edge that the cold-water conditions are likely to be brief. the advisory word, therefore, to the shrewd angler, is to strike the stream after rain rarely more than a quarter mile above the springhole. if the fish bite there,"taste" the stream farther up until the fish stop biting in the rapids and then fish down to the springhole. this little hint, if followed, will often save an hour or two of useless casting. but in the smaller brooks where, following rain, the trout run up-stream from many pools—and, indeed, if the writer is a judge, seem to be more progressive in seeking food than river trout—the con- trary rule holds the stream may be fished anywhere and the location of the trouty pools of low water ignored. i have made no reference to the summer trout of the lakes and ponds as the sub- ject here is limited to the summer trout of those flowing streams which, at full of water, spell rapids, foam, ripple and eddy. but a single hint to the summer anglers of the ponds of the adirondacks and like regions the writer owes personally to that rare spirit, the late william hamil- ton gibson, writer, artist and keen searcher of nature's secrets as well as an enthusiastic angler. the tale, as gibson told me it, was of a summer season on one of the adirondack lakes when for many days the trout re- fused flies and common worms alike. one day gibson, pulling apart the stems of some half-decayed lily pads, found in the pores a slim worm whích, tested, proved most killing bait, and well nigh redeemed for him the whole fishing season. in other places—not many—i have failed, after search, to find this lily-pad worm, but it may be only because the quest was at the wrong place or time. those who knew gibson know also how firm his sayso stands on every point connected with plants and their insect life, and his suggestion to the summer trout fisher of our northern ponds is worth heeding. arthur goodrich author of the balance of power whose article, "a day with a devonshire farmer," appears in this issue of the outing magazine. ac drawing for "the buccaneers" by n. c. wyeth. "when drake saw for the first time the waters of the south sea." Τ Η Ε o u tri n g magazine vol. xlviii number september, the long labrador trail the compact with hubbard fulfilled by dillon wallace photographs by the author us. t' iii almost before i realized it we were at the rapid. away to the westward nhe time for action had come. our stretched grand lake, deep and dark and canoes were loaded near the wharf, still, with the rugged outline of cape cor- we said good-bye to cotter and a beau in the distance. group of native trapper friends, and as we tom blake and his family, one and all, took our places in the canoes and dipped came out to give us the whole-souled, hos- our paddles into the waters that were to pitable welcome of “the labrador.” even carry us northward the pest flag was run atikamish, the little indian dog that mac- up on the flagpole as a salute and farewell, kenzie used to have, but which he had and we were away. we soon rounded the given to tom when he left northwest point, and cotter and the trappers and the river, was on hand to tell me in his dog post were lost to view. duncan was to language that he remembered me and was follow later in the evening in his rowboat delighted to see me back. here we would with some of our outfit which we left in his stay for the night — the last night for charge. months that we were to sleep in a habita- silently we paddled through the "little tion of civilized man. lake." the clouds hung somber and dull the house was a very comfortable little with threatening rain, and a gentle breeze log dwelling containing a small kitchen, a wafted to us now and again a bit of fra larger living-room which also served as a grance from the spruce-covered hills above sleeping-room, and an attic which was the copyrighted, , by the outing publishing company. all rights reserved. "we reached the farther shore of the second lake. the outing magazine and hubbard was talking to me and telling pression upon it, and easton remarked that me of the “bully story" of the mystic land “the rubber trust ought to hunt porcu- of wonders that lay “behind the ranges” pines, for they are a lot tougher than rubber he would have to take back to the world. and just as pliable.” “we're going to traverse a section no "i don't know why,” said pete sadly. white man has ever seen," he exclaimed, “i boil him long time.” "and we'll add something to the world's that day we continued our course along knowledge of geography at least, and that's the northern shore of the lake until we worth while. no matter how little a man reached the deep bay which hubbard and may add to the fund of human knowledge i had failed to enter and explore on the it's worth the doing, for it's by little bits other trip, and which failure had resulted that we've learned to know so much of so tragically. this bay is some five miles our old world. there's some hard work from the westerly end of grand lake, and before us, though, up there in those hills, is really the mouth of the nascaupee and and some hardships to meet." crooked rivers which flow into the upper ah, if we had only known! end of it. there was little or no wind and some one said it was time to “turn in," we had to go slowly to permit duncan, in and i was brought suddenly to a sense of his rowboat, to keep pace with us. night the present, but a feeling of sadness pos was not far off when we reached duncan's sessed me when i took my place in the tilt (a small log hut), three miles up the crowded tent, and i lay awake long, think nascaupee river, where we stopped for ing of those other days. the night. clear and crisp was the morning of june this is the tilt in which allen goudy and twenty-eighth. the atmosphere was brac duncan lived at the time they came to my ing and delightful, the azure of the sky rescue in , and where i spent three above us shaded to the most delicate tints days getting strength for my trip down of blue at the horizon, and, here and there, grand lake to the post. it is duncan's bits of clouds, like bunches of cotton, supply base in the winter months when he flecked the sky. the sun broke grandly hunts along the nascaupee river, one over the rugged hills, and the lake, like hundred and twenty miles inland to seal molten silver, lay before us. lake. on this hunting "path" duncan a fringe of ice had formed during the has two hundred and fifty marten and night along the shore. we broke it and forty fox traps, and, in the spring, a few bathed our hands and faces in the cool bear traps besides. water, then sat down in a circle near our the country has been burned here. just camp-fire to renew our attack upon the below duncan's tilt is a spruce-covered porcupine, which had been sending out a island, but the mainland has a stunted most delicious odor from the kettle where new growth of spruce, with a few white pete had it cooking. but alas for our ex birch, covering the wreck of the primeval pectations! our teeth would make no im forest that was flame swept thirty odd hudson's bay company post at northwest river. the long labrador trail me. spruce brush. years ago. over some considerable areas “but have you never hunted here your- no new growth to speak of has appeared, self?” i asked. and the charred remains of the dead trees "no, sir, l've never been in here at all. i stand stark and gray, or lie about in con travels right past up the nascaupee. all fusion upon the ground, giving the country i knows about it, sir, is what they tells a particularly dreary and desolate appear i always follows the nascaupee, sir." ance. above us rose a high, steep hill covered the morning of june twenty-ninth was for two-thirds of the way from its base with overcast and threatened rain, but toward a thick growth of underbrush, but quite evening the sky cleared. barren on top save for a few bunches of progress was slow, for the current in the river here was very strong, and paddling or the old trail, unused for eight or ten rowing against it was not easy. we had to years, headed toward the hill and was quite stop several times and wait for duncan to easily traced for some fifty yards from overtake us with his boat. once he halted the old camp. then it disappeared com- to look at a trap where he told us he had pletely in a dense undergrowth of willows, caught six black bears. it was nearly alders and spruce. sunset when we reached the mouth of the while pete made preparation for our red river, nineteen miles above grand supper and duncan unloaded his boat and lake, where it flows into the nascaupee hauled it up preparatory to leaving it until from the west. this is a wide, shallow his return from the interior, the rest of us stream whose red-brown waters were quite tried to follow the trail through the brush. in contrast to the clear waters of the nas but beyond where the thick undergrowth саирее. . began there was nothing at all that, to us, opposite the mouth of the red river, resembled a trail. finally, i instructed and on the eastern shore of the nascaupee, pete to go with richards and see what he is the point where the old indian trail was could do while the rest of us made camp. said to begin, and on a knoll some fifty pete started ahead, forging his way through feet above the river we saw the wigwam the thick growth. in ten minutes i heard poles of an old indian camp, and a solitary him shout from the hillside, “he here—| grave with a rough fence around it. here find him," and saw pete hurrying up the we landed and awaited duncan, who had steep incline. stopped at another of his trapping tilts when richards and pete returned an three or four hundred yards below. when hour later we had camp pitched and sup- he joined us a little later, in answer to my per cooking. they reported the trail, as inquiry as to whether this was the begin far as they had gone, very rough and diffi- ning of the old trail, he answered, “'tis cult to follow. for some distance it would where they says the indians came out, and have to be cut out with an axe, and no- some of the indians has told me so. where was it bigger than a rabbit run. supposes it's the place, sir." duncan rather favored going as far as seal "el chain of three or four small lakes marked our course." duncan hoisted his sails." lake by the trail that he knew and which ing of when we gathered around our camp- followed the nascaupee. this trail he be fire that evening, and filled and lighted our lieved to be much easier than the long un pipes and puffed silently while we watched used indian trail, which was undoubtedly the newborn stars of evening come into in many places entirely obscured and in being one by one until the arch of heaven any case extremely difficult to follow. i was aglow with the splendor of a labrador dismissed his suggestion, however, with night. and when we at length went to little consideration. my object was to our bed of spruce boughs it was to dream trace the old indian trail and explore as of strange scenes and new worlds that we much of the country as possible, and not were to conquer. to hide myself in an enclosed river valley. therefore, i decided that next day we iv should scout ahead to the first water to which the trail led and cut out the trail next morning we scouted ahead and where necessary. the work i knew would found that the trail led to a small lake some be hard, but we were expecting to do hard five and a half miles beyond our camp. work. we were not on a summer picnic. for a mile or so the brush was pretty thick a rabbit which stanton had shot and a and the trail was difficult to follow, but spruce grouse that fell before pete's pistol, beyond that it was comparatively well together with what remained of our porcu defined though exceedingly steep, the hill pine, hot coffee, and mrs. blake's good rising to an elevation of one thousand and bread, made a supper that we ate with fifty feet above the nascaupee river in zest while we talked over the prospects of the first two miles. we had fifteen hun- the trail. supper finished, pete carefully dred pounds of outfit to carry upon our washed his ishes, then washed his dish backs, and i realized that at first we should cloth, which latter he hung upon a bough have to trail slowly and make several loads near the fire to dry. his cleanliness about of it, for, with the exception of pete, none his cooking was a revelation to me. i had of the men was in training the work was never before seen a camp-man or guide so totally different from anything to which neat in this respect. they had been accustomed, and as i did the real work of the trip was now to be not wish to break their spirits or their ar- gin, the hard portaging, the trail finding dor, i instructed them to carry only such and trail making, and we were to break the packs as they could walk under with per- seal of a land that had, through the ages, fect ease until they should become hardened held its secret from all the world, excepting to the work. the red man. this is what we were think the weather had been cool and bracing, the long labrador trail you swore.” but as if to add to our difficulties the sun outfit was portaged to the summit of the now boiled down, and the black flies hill and we ate our dinner there in the "the devil's angels” some one called them broiling sun, for we were above the trees, -came in thousands to feast upon the new which ended some distance below us. it comers and make life miserable for us all. was fearfully hot, a dead, suffocating heat, duncan was as badly treated by them as with not a breath of air moving, and some any of us, although he belonged to the one asked what the temperature was. country, and i overheard him swearing at “eighty-seven in the shade, but no a lively gait soon after the little beasts shade,” richards remarked as he threw began their attacks. down his pack and consulted the ther- “why, duncan,” said i, “i didn't know mometer where i had placed it under a low bush. “i'll swear it's a hundred and "i does, sir, sometimes, when things ffty in the sun.” makes me," he replied. during dinner pete pointed to the river “but it doesn't help. matters any to far below us, saying, “look! indian swear, does it?" canoe.” i could not make it out without "no, sir, but” (swatting his face) "damn my binoculars, but with their aid discerned the flies—it's easin' to the feelin's to swear a canoe on the river, containing a soli- sometimes.” tary paddler. none of us, excepting pete, on several occasions after this i heard could see the canoe without the glasses, at duncan "easin' his feelin's” in long and which he was very proud and remarked: astounding bursts of profane eloquence, but "no findin' glass need me. see far, me. he did try to moderate his language when see long way off.” i was within earshot. once i asked him: on other occasions, afterward, i had rea- “where in the world did you learn to son to marvel at pete's clearness of vision. swear like that, duncan?” it was john ahsini in the cance, as we “at the lumber camps, sir,” he re discovered later when he joined us and plied. helped stanton up the hill with his last in the year i had spent in labrador i pack to our night camp on the summit. i had never before heard a planter or native invited john to eat supper with us and he. of groswater bay swear. but this ex accepted the invitation. he told us he was plained it. the lumbermen from “civil- hunting “moshku” (bear) and was camped ization” were educating them. at the mouth of the red river. he as- at one o'clock on july first, half our sured us that we would find no more hills "where he told us he had caught six black hears," the outing magazine farther up to the northwest, the river itself, where it was choked with blocks of ice, made its appearance and threaded its way down to the southeast until it was finally lost in the spruce-covered valley. beyond, bits of grand lake, like silver settings in the black sur- rounding forest, sparkled in the light of the rising sun. away to the west- ward could be traced the rushing waters of the red river making their course down through the sandy ridges that enclose its valley. to the north- ward lay a great undulating wilderness, the wilderness that we were to traverse. it was sunday morning, and the holy stillness of the day engulfed our world. when pete had the fire going and the kettle singing i roused the boys and told them we would make this, our first sunday in the bush, an easy one, and simply move our camp forward to a nore hospitable and sheltered spot by a little brook a mile up the trail, and then be ready for the “tug of war” on monday. in accordance with this plan, after eating our breakfast we each carried a light pack to our new camping ground, "the wigwam poles of an old indian camp." and there pitched our tent by a tiny brook that trickled down through the rocks. like this one we were on, and, pointing while stanton cooked dinner, pete brought to the northward, said “miam potagen forward a second pack. after we had eaten, (good portage) and that we would find richards suggested to pete that they take plenty “atuk” (caribou), “moshku” and the fish net ahead and set it in the little "mashumekush" (trout). after supper i lake which was still some two and a half gave john some "stemmo,” and he disap- miles farther on the trail. they had just peared down the trail to join his wife in returned when a terrific thunder-storm their wigwam below. broke upon us, and every moment we ex- we were all of us completely exhausted pected the tent to be carried away by the that night. stanton was too tired to eat, gale that accompanied the downpour of and lay down upon the bare rocks to sleep. rain. it was then that richards remem- pete stretched our tent wigwam fashion on bered that he had left his blankets to dry some old indian tepee poles, and, without upon the tepee poles at the last camp. troubling ourselves to break brush for a the rain ceased about five o'clock, and ped, we all soon joined stanton in a dream duncan volunteered to return with rich- less slumber upon his rocky couch. ards and help him recover his blankets, the night, like the day, was very warm, which they found far from dry. and when i aroused pete at sunrise the mosquitoes, it seemed to me, were never next morning (july second) to get break so numerous or vicious after this fast the mosquitoes were about our heads thunder-storm. we had head nets that in clouds. were a protection from them generally, but a magnificent panorama lay before us. when we removed the nets to eat, the at- opposite, across the valley of the nascau tacks of the insects were simply insuffera- pee, a great hill held its snow-tipped head ble, so we had our supper in the tent. as high in the heavens. some four mịles we smoked our pipes in silence i thought as the long labrador trail of the first sunday in camp with hubbard he runs far. no good follow. not hurt on the susan river, and what a comfort much, maybe, goes very far." his bible had been to him then and all “you had caribou fever, pete," sug- through that terrible summer that fol- gested richards. lowed; of the last camp where we said our “yes," said easton, “caribou fever, final farewell on a stormy sunday morning sure thing.” in october; of how i had read to him, “i don't believe you'd have hit him before our parting, the fourteenth chapter if he hadn't winded you,” stanton re- of john, and his words when i had finished: marked. “the trouble with you, pete, "thank you, b’y. isn't that comforting? is you can't shoot." 'let not your heart be troubled.'” "no caribou fever, me,” rejoined pete, i told the boys the story, then i drew with righteous indignation. “kill plenty my testament from my bag, and they moose, kill red deer; never have moose were silent while i read to them the same fever, never have deer fever.” then chapter. it was surely a fitting selection turning to me he asked, “you want cari- for this first sunday of our trip. bou, mr. wallace?" the rain cleared the atmosphere, and “yes," i answered, “i wish we could monday, july third, was cool and delight- get some fresh meat, but we can wait a ful, and, with the exception of two or three few days. we have enough to eat, and showers, a perfect day. camp was moved i don't want to take time to hunt now." and our entire outfit portaged to the first "plenty signs. i get caribou any day small lake. our net, which pete and you want him. tell me when you want richards had set the day before, yielded him, i kill him,” pete answered me, ig- us nothing, but with my rod i caught noring the criticisms of the others as to enough trout for a sumptuous supper. his marksmanship and hunting prowess the following morning (july fourth) pete and i, who arose at half-past four, had just finished preparing breakfast of fried pork, flapjacks and coffee, and i had gone to the tent to call the others, when pete came rushing after me in great excitement, exclaiming, “caribou ! rifle, quick!” he grabbed one of the 's and rushed away and soon we heard bang-bang-bang seven times from up the lake shore. it was not long before pete returned with a very humble bearing and crestfallen countenance, and without a word leaned the rifle against a tree and resumed his culinary operations. “well, pete," said i, “how many caribou did you kill?" no caribou. miss him," he replied. “but i heard seven shots. how did you miss so many times?" i asked. "miss him," answered pete. caribou over there, close to water, run fast, try get lee side sɔ he don't smell me. water in way. go very careful, make no noise, but he smell me. he hold his head up like this. he sniff, then he start. he go through trees very quick. see him, me, just little when he runs through trees. shoot seven times. hit him once, not much. "i suppose it's the place, sir,' said duncan." “i see a bit of the crooked river. all that day and all the next the men let this time on would do very well for the no opportunity pass to guy pete about his present, and i did not care to take time to lost caribou, and on the whole he took the hunt until we were a little deeper into the banter very good-naturedly, but once con country. therefore i told him, “no, we fided to me that “if those boys get up will wait a day or two." early, maybe they see caribou too and try pete, as i soon discovered, had an in- how much they can do.” satiable passion for hunting, and could after breakfast pete and i paddled to the never let anything in the way of game pass other end of the little lake to pick up the him without qualms of regret. some- trail while the others broke camp. in a times, where a caribou trail ran off plain little while he located it, a well-defined and clear in the moss, it was hard to keep path, and we walked across it half a mile him from running after it. nothing ever to another and considerably larger lake escaped his ear or eye. he had the in which was a small, round, mound-like, trained senses and instincts of the indian spruce-covered island so characteristic of hunter. when i first saw him in new the labrador lakes. york he looked so youthful and evidently on our way back to the first lake pete had so little confidence in himself, an- called my attention to a fresh caribou swering my question as to whether he track in the hard earth. it was scarcely could do this or that with an aggravating distinguishable, and i had to look very “i don't know," that i felt a keen sense closely to make it out. then he showed of disappointment in him. but with every me other signs that i could make noth stage of our journey he had developed, ing of at all—a freshly turned pebble or and now was in his element. he was broken twig. these, he said, were fresh quite a different individual from the green deer signs. a caribou had passed toward indian youth whom i had first seen walking the larger lake that very morning. timidly beside the railway conductor at "if you want him, i get him," said the grand central station in new york. pete. i could see he felt rather deeply the portage between the lakes was an his failure of the morning and that he was easy one and, as i have said, well defined, anxious to redeem himself. i wanted to and we reached the farther shore of the give him the opportunity to do so, es second lake early in the afternoon. here pecially as the young men, unused to we found an old indian camping ground deprivations, were beginning to crave covering several acres. it had evidently fresh meat as a relief from the salt pork. been at one time a general rendezvous of at the same time, however, i felt that the the indians hunting in this section, as was fish we were pretty certain to get from indicated by the large number of wigwams . “we were a hungry crowd." that had been pitched here. that was a detained over night. when pete took long while ago, however, for the old poles the rifle he held it up meaningly and said, were so decayed that they fell into pieces "fresh meat to-night. caribou," and i when we attempted to pick them up. could see that he was planning to make a there was no sign of a trail leading from hunt of it. the old camp ground, and i sent pete and when they were gone, i took easton richards to circle the bush and endeavor with me and climbed another hill nearer to locate one that i knew was somewhere camp, that i might get a panoramic view about, while i fished and stanton and of the valley in which we were camped. duncan prepared an early supper. a little from this vantage ground i could see, later the two men returned, unsuccessful stretching off to the northward, a chain of in their quest. they had seen two or three or four small lakes which, i concluded, three trails, any of which might be our though there was other water visible, un- trail. of course but one of them could be doubtedly marked our course. far to the the right one. north west was a group of rugged, barren, this report was both perplexing and snow-capped mountains which were, per- annoying, for i did not wish to follow for haps, the “white hills,” behind which the several days a wrong route and then dis indians had told us lay seal lake. at cover the error when much valuable time our feet, sparkling in the sunlight, spread had been lost. the lake upon whose shores our tent, a i, therefore, decided that we must be little white dot amongst the green trees, sure of our position before proceeding, was pitched. a bit of smoke curled up and, early the following morning (july from our camp-fire, where i knew stanton fifth), dispatched richards and pete on and duncan were baking “squaw bread.” a scouting expedition to a high hill some we returned to camp to await the arrival distance to the northeast that they might, and report of richards and pete, and occu- from that viewpoint, note the general pied the afternoon in catching trout which, contour of the land and the location of though more plentiful than in the first any visible chain of lakes leading to the lake, were very small. north west through which the indian trail toward evening, when a stiff breeze might pass, and then endeavor to pick up blew in from the lake and cleared the black the trail from one of these lakes, noting flies and mosquitoes away, easton took a old camping grounds and other signs. canoe out, stripped, and sprang into the each carried some tea and some erbs water, while i undressed on shore and was wurst, a rifle, a cup at his belt and a com in the midst of a most refreshing bath pass as a precaution, in case they were when, suddenly, the wind died away and "camp was moved to the first small lake." the long labrador trail cane. our tormentors came upon us in clouds. broiled venison steak and tea. we had it was a scramble to get into our clothes barely finished our meal when heavy black again, but before i succeeded in hiding my clouds overcast the sky, and the wind and nakedness from them, i was pretty severely rain broke upon us in the fury of a hurri- wounded. with the coming of the storm the it was scarcely six o'clock when richards temperature dropped fully forty degrees and pete walked into camp and proudly in half as many minutes, and in our drip- threw down some venison. pete had kept ping wet garments we were soon chilled his promise. on the lookout at every and miserable. we hastened to cut the step for game, he had espied an old stag, venison up and put it into packs, and with and, together, he and richards had each a load of it, started homeward. on stalked it, and it had received bullets from the way i stopped with pete to climb a both their rifles. i shall not say to which peak that i might have a view of the sur- hunter belonged the honor of killing the rounding country and see the large lake game. they were both very proud of it. to the northward which he and richards but best of all, they had found, to a had reported the evening before. the at- certainty, the trail leading to one of the mosphere was sufficiently clear by this chain of little lakes which easton and i time for me to see it, and i was satisfied had seen, and these lakes, they reported, that it was undoubtedly lake nippisish, took a course directly toward a larger lake, as no other large lake had been mentioned which they had glimpsed. i decided that by the indians. this must be the lake of which the indians we hastened down the mountain and at northwest river had told us-lake made our way through rain-soaked bushes nippisish (little water). this was very and trees that showered us with their load gratifying intelligence, as nippisish was of water at every step, and when at last we said to be nearly half way to seal lake, reached camp and i threw down my pack, from where we had begun our portage i was too weary to change my wet garments on the nascaupee. for dry ones, and was glad to lie down, what a supper we had that night of drenched as i was, to sleep until supper fresh venison, and new “squaw bread,” was ready. hot from the pan! none of our venison must be wasted. in the morning we portaged our outfit all that we could not use within the next two miles, and removed our camp to the day or two must be “jerked,” that is; second one of the series of lakes which dried, to keep it from spoiling. to accom- easton and i had seen from the hill, and plish this we erected poles, like the poles of the fourth lake after leaving the nascaupee a wigwam, and suspended the meat from river. the morning was fearfully hot, them, cut in thin strips, and in the center, and we floundered through marshes with between the poles, made a small, smoky heavy packs, bathed in perspiration, and fire to keep the greenbottle flies away, fairly breathing flies and mosquitoes. not that they might not “blow" the venison, a breath of air stirred, and the humidity as well as to aid nature in the drying and heat were awful. stanton and duncan process. remained to pitch the tent and bring up all day on july seventh the rain poured some of our stuff that had been left at down, a cold, northwest wind blew, and the second lake, while richards, easton, no progress was made in drying our meat. pete and i trudged three miles over the there was nothing to do but wait in the hills for the caribou meat which had been tent for the storm to clear. cached at the place where the animal was when pete went out to cook dinner ! killed, richards and pete having brought told him to make a little cornmeal por- with them only enough for two or three ridge and let it go at that, but what a meals. surprise he had for us when, a little later, the country here was rough and broken, dripping wet and hands full of kettles, he with many great bowlders scattered over pushed his way into the tent! a steaming the hilltops. when we reached the cache venison potpie, broiled venison steaks, hot we were ravenously hungry, and built a fried bread dough, stewed prunes for des- fire and had a very satisfying luncheon of sert and a kettle of hot tea! all experi- the outing magazine grand river n.b. newfoundland natashquan at ° ° hudson strait ° с t ungava a bay haco a e h.b.co + chimo meca rive french ca okkak не со (abandoned) inchen minust lake n nain zoar o unga va o s tri ct e rigoler wf onec indian harbor nam illon inker ou nol lake michitkamau broswater boy hamilton northwest riv or a n scale as milis strait or bettelisten quebec of ince pr esquimaux anticost: island si lawrence river ° map showing dillon wallace's trin by canoe, moccasin and dogsled in labrador. (the journey was much longer than the scale indicates on account of the innumerable deviations from the general direction.) + by canoe and moccasin; by snowshoe and dogsled; by steamer. enced campers in the north woods are familiar with the fried bread dough. it is dough mixed as you would mix it for squaw bread, but not quite so stiff, pulled out to the size of your frying pan, very thin, and fried in swimming pork grease. in taste it resembles doughnuts. hubbard used to call it “french toast." our young men the long labrador trail had never eaten it before, and richards, once we came upon a snow-bank in a taking one of the cakes, asked pete: hollow, and cooled ourselves by eating “what do you call this?" some of the snow. our observations made “i don't know," answered pete. it quite certain that the trail left the "well,” said richards, with a mouthful northern side of the second lake through of it, “i call it darn good.” a bowlder-strewn pass over the hills, though “that's what we call him then,", re there were no visible signs of it, and we torted pete, “darn good.” climbed one of the hills in the hope of and so the cakes were christened “darn seeing lakes beyond. there were none in goods,” and always afterward we referred sight. it was too late to continue our to them by that name. search that day and we reluctantly re- the forest fire which i have mentioned turned to camp. our failure was rather as having swept this country to the shores discouraging because it meant a further of grand lake some thirty-odd years ago, loss of time, and i had hoped that our had been particularly destructive in this route, until we reached nippisish at least, portion of the valley where we were now would lie straight and well defined before us. encamped. the stark dead spruce trees, sunday, july ninth, was comfortably naked skeletons of the old forest, stood all cool, with a good, stiff breeze to drive about, and that evening, when i stepped away the flies. i dispatched richards, outside for a look at the sky and weather, with pete and easton to accompany him, i was impressed with the dreariness of the to follow up our work of the evening be- scene. the wind blew in gusts, driving fore, and look into the pass through the the rain in sheets over the face of the hills hills, while i remained behind with stanton and through the spectral trees, finally and duncan and kept the fire going under dashing it in bucketfuls against our tent. our venison. the next forenoon, however, the sky i had expected that duncan, with his cleared, and in the afternoon richards and experience in the country, would be of i went ahead in one of the canoes to hunt great assistance to us in locating the trail; the trail. we followed the north shore of but to my disappointment i discovered the lake to its end, then portaged twenty soon after our start, that he was far from yards across a narrow neck into another good even in following a trail when it was lake, and keeping near the north shore of found, though he never got lost and could this lake also, continued until we came upon always find his way back, in a straight a creek of considerable size running out line, to any given point. of it and taking a southeasterly course. the boys came back toward evening and where the creek left the lake there was an reported that beyond the hills, through old indian fishing camp. it was out of the pass, lay a good-sized lake, and that the question that our trail should follow some signs of a trail were found leading to the valley of this creek, for it led directly it. this was what i had hoped for. away from our goal. we, therefore, re our meat was now sufficiently dried to turned and explored a portion of the north pack, and, anxious to be on the move shore of the lake, which was very bare, again, i directed that on the morrow we bowlder strewn, and devoid of vegetation should break camp and cross the hills to for the most part-even moss. the lakes bevond. (to be continued.) drawing by howard giles. **do you know,' said the dear boy. 'i have long had a secret theory that you are twenty.' the magic of orchards by zona gale drawing by howard giles i have always meant to try it,” said new vista of summer lines and depths no peleas, meditatively; "at all events more than at what peleas should say next. ever since i have been old.” with another i might have feared an- i looked up at his uncovered hair, silver nouncement of a new venture in shoe- in the late afternoon sun. yes, strange lacings or a change in florists; but peleas though it sounded, there was no evading did not disappoint me. the epithet. peleas was old—and i my “the magic of orchards," he said. self was, if not old, still past seventy. "o peleas!” i cried, “and what will “at what moment did you become old?” that be?” i asked him seriously; "i have always peleas looked up at the coachman's been longing to surprise some one on the back. we are constantly having to save instant of losing his youth, or of finding the feelings of the man on the box-the himself old—but really old. would it not waiter, the porter and the like—who would be wonderful, peleas, to catch the very almost certainly believe us mad if he over- second when april becomes may, or heard our way of talk. not that we mind spring says ‘now i'm summer'?” being thought mad, nor do we court it; “ah, i know," agreed peleas; “a clock but we so heartily sympathize with the ought to strike somewhere. one-two people whom, by their natures, we are three—now it's june. four-five-six- four-five-six- obliged to exclude from certain sweet and now this apple-tree is at the very height necessary vagaries of ours. of its bloom; or 'this is the moment of this "nobody,” explained peleas, “can try rose. instead of which, nature just lets this until he is old. another reason for you go along and go along. but they say living a long time. but i'm told that it is there is a way to get 'round that, and i've an experiment that never fails-or fails always meant to try it.” only for artistic purposes, barely often i waited for what he would say next enough to make it worth doing.” ah, i hope that no one in the world is with “perfect," i agreed, having a great dis- out the enchantment of a friend who con like for the certainties. there is only one stantly has curious, surprising, delicious certainty in the world that is not tiresome, things to suggest. for myself, my test and that is love; but this is such an uneasy of companionship is to have a friend of certainty that one forgives it. years still able to tell me bits of lore, wise "well then,” imparted peleas, “i am sayings, wood-secrets, poignant incidents told that when one is past seventy, if he of which i had never suspected him. i walks out in an orchard, in summer, at had been married to peleas several weeks twilight, under a perfectly new moon he before he chanced to let me know that he can, with three conditions, have back one had a fantastic repertoire of figures to cut hour of his youth.” upon ice, on spring skates; and it was even “what a heavenly impossibility,” said after this revelation that i found him able i; "one must believe it. ah, peleas!” i to repeat half theocritus and to make the cried reproachfully, “why in the world most delicate omelettes over a camp-fire. haven't you told me before?” (for i so now, as the victoria turned down a have a theory that it is as well to believe grass-grown road bordered by high banks all the impossible things as to be deceived topped with box-alders, i thrilled at its in many of the possible things.) “and the outing magazine one. what will the conditions be?” i de dimity, little black bead eyes twinkling, manded. we felt that we had acted very wisely to these peleas checked off with a bough answer her summons. of japonica, in full bloom, which he had i am wont to say that miss willie has shamelessly begged from a door-yard. an air of spiced cordial. she is not only "first,” he said, “one must go to the a friend who sometimes surprises you: orchard with somebody who would not be she is one who offers you surprises by way in the least surprised to see one become of commonplace; and peleas once said young again." that her very idea of the conversational “ah, well,” said i, “that would surprise foot-hills is mountainous, not to say vol- neither you nor me, in the least." canic. and this is the truth; for with the “etarre!” she cried breathlessly to me, wizard ways of nature i can see no reason “lionel has just telephoned that he is for not expecting phenomena instead of motoring out to dinner--with four others consistencies, and no departure of outdoors in the car. shall you mind?” would amaze me. “my dear,” said i, “don't look so hunt- “second,” said peleas, “one has to use ed. they will amuse me beyond every the hour in some fashion to pay back the who are they?” orchard, or nature, or some of them for "a man and a woman celebrity, and a the gift.” lady and a gentleman,” explained miss “but that would be very much simpler,” lillieblade, acidly. “the woman celebrity i murmured, “than trying to repay most is the star in `chiffon.' i'm afraid lionel kindnesses." is in love with her. she is a terrible little “and third," finished peleas, “one must creature with her hair in italics and her know how to say the right word to start gowns in capitals. lionel wants me to the spell." meet her.” “that should not be so very difficult,” i took my cup in silence, and while miss i said, “with all the beautiful words in the lillieblade went on about demerits sat world. i daresay the right one will be sipping my tea and looking out over the ‘quince,' or ‘mystery,' or perhaps ‘pen heaven of that summer valley, sunk in the dragon. sense of afternoon. it is hard to fix one's “i think i would risk 'marathon,' attention on affairs of lesser importance said peleas, musingly. “i fancy aladdin when town is left behind and the world might have found twice as many jewels in of the true outdoors is fairly catching at the cave if only he had said 'marathon’ one's sleeve for attention. i love these instead of 'sesame.' heavenly importunities, this lure of a “but then," i suggested, "think how shaded place that besieges you to come much more important the magic of or and sit there. i protest that when i see chards would be than a mere cave of jew a bench under a sycamore in a garden i els. ( peleas," i added, “miss lillie feel exactly like a child with a kitten, for blade has a wonderful orchard." i cannot turn away. while i sipped my tea "ah, yes, of course,” recollected peleas i saw such a bench, with a scarf of honey- with a sigh. “we are about to pay a suckle on its arm and a bed of sweet-o'-lips visit, are we not?” near at hand. and though i did my best yet we are very fond of miss wilhelmina to fix my attention on this matter of lionel lillieblade, to whose place in westchester and the star of "chiffon," i kept mixing we had come for a week's end; and as we his love with that scarf of honeysuckle, rolled up the broad earthen drive, guilt and miss lillieblade's fear with sweet-o'- less of gravel, and saw the man on the lips. i do remember thinking of miss box stoop to evade the tender, brushing lillieblade's grand-nephew lionel as i had chestnuts, and caught a glimpse of white last seen him-a fresh-faced, eager, buoy- pillars and cool awnings and a tea-table ant lad, his eyes alight with the certainty before a wide hall door, we were recon that he was born to make little songs ciled even to that risk of risks, a visit. about the world and so on; and i grieved when miss “willie" lillieblade came out at the change of manner at which miss to greet us, silver-gray hair, silver-gray lillieblade so plainly hinted. and i fell the magic of orchards rose. to wondering whether, being a meddling gravely. “dinner is a feast, and is not old woman, i might not in some interfering a feast always kept?” fashion be able to help him; and then my and “how subtile! you must be very eyes were taken with the certainty of the metaphysical!” chimed in the lady, like glimpse of orchard one would have from bells that one has accidentally struck. the honeysuckle bench, and my thought, as for myself, this lady of “chiffon” a very light-o'-love for the sake of the was forcing me from the veranda no more summer, forth with fled away in pursuit of poignantly than the twilight was calling what peleas had told me of any orchard's me. as soon as might be, having greeted magic. when one is past seventy it is lionel and avoided the others, i escaped so much easier to dream than to think. behind a row of potted trees, down the at length, when the sun-dial warned us steps, across the lawn in the safe twilight, how much better to be warned by a sun and away to the stone bench that had dial than threatened by a clock-we went beckoned me in the afternoon, waiting away upstairs to our cool, white-painted there under the sycamore. there i sank rooms. i was stirred to such pleasant folly down gratefully, for the scarf of honey- by the sweet of the country air and the suckle was fragrant in the dark, as if it unwonted ways of its quiet that i drew had lain long among the secret spices of from my traveling bag a gown painted with the earth; and the bed of sweet-o'-lips pale hydrangeas, most absurd for age and glowed in a blur of dim-distinguishable yet eminently fitted to the joyousness of the day. i hardly dared look at myself what a dusk had begun! one would in the mirror, for it was a gown that i have said that, with the coming of that wore only on home-evenings with peleas, twilight, a bell must have been struck and i have never known what unbidden somewhere, as peleas had suggested: “one impulse led me to choose it for that night. -two-three-now begins the most won- and though i was secretly happy to see it derful gloaming in the world.” images sweep mistily about me on the stair, yet flowed one within another, until it mat- i was thankful, as i emerged upon the tered very little to the watcher which was veranda in the beginning of the twilight, fountain and which was rose-tree, they that attention was persuaded from my were so alike. i daresay that it will be gaudiness by the snort and tug of a motor that way in broad daylight, in heaven. and the shrill trail of its warning horn so i sat quietly, thankful for “such a prefacing lionel's car at the park entrance. night,” when, without my having heard i remember that as i slipped behind a his step on the lawn, lionel was beside friendly hibiscus tree, in sudden confusion at my gay, flowered muslin, i felt myself, “aunt etarre,” he cried in that voice as miss lillieblade had said of her expected of youth which i protest is more like the guest, gowned in capitals. voice of nature than is nature's very if i had cherished a hope that the lady silence, “aunt etarre"-so he has called of “ch'iffon” might not fill miss lillie me from his little boyhood—“let us walk blade's prophecy of her, that hope was the a little; are you tired? have we time evidence that i had not seen her. she before dinner? come, a walk with me be- was so gay that her very gravity was like fore the other car gets here-please!” the gayness of another. she had an in “give me the gift of twilight to walk sistent laugh that forbade the talk until in and the surprise of a bird stirring in a she had done, upward intonations which thicket," i quoted to myself,' and you may incessantly claimed one's assent, and she have the chest of rubies, unsmouldering had heavy lids and even teeth and a in the dark.” and “so," i thought, as i broad nose, and her presence moved among rose willingly enough, "not only does the us like a rough wind from another climate. dusk descend to amuse me, but here is a there was, her thin and peaked tone ex lover who would sing to me of his lady." plained to us, another car expected—they and so the lover would. we walked had broken down a mile away; dear miss through the sweet of the old-fashioned lillieblade would not mind keeping dinner? garden-a place where all flowers, and “by no means,” said miss lillieblade, even weeds of blunt intelligence, must me. the outing magazine noon: have grown with delight. miss lillieblade be the library—between those two trees, is a famous gardener, and not even her with the lowest boughs for bookshelves." statistics about her vegetables or her i nodded the grateful affirmation which knowledge of the pedigree of her roses i always feel when some one understands can detract from her garden's witchery. that outdoors is not merely outdoors, but there lionel talked to me of his lady, a place as filled with personality as is a but not as i had thought. for instead cathedral. i felt the long grass yield, of a pæan of praise, he poured out to i heard the sweep of my flowered skirts me a veritable lover's plaint of the griefs upon it—really, the gown was not so amiss of love, of the inconstancy of his lady, of here in the orchard! i smelt the rich, his own despair, and, as i could see, though odorous fruit ripe for the picking, within he did not, of dissatisfaction with the the leaves, and, on a sudden, i looked whole wretched business of his infatuation down an aisle of gnarled trees to the pale for the star of “chiffon." yet i daresay west and i saw the little new moon. and that he fancied himself to be only luxuri then i stood still and remembered; i ously confiding to me a very picturesque remembered peleas' words of the after- affair of which he seemed not a little proud. but i knew well enough, and my heart “i am told ibai when one is past seventy, ached for him. if one walks out in an orchard in summer, “she is so full of life and the love of at twilight, under a perfectly new moon, be life," he kept asserting, like an argument. can, under three conditions, have back one “she loves the woods and all beauty hour of his youth.” “ah, does she?” said i suddenly, “and i do not know what lionel may have would she like to come out here, for ex been saying— , whose chief use in life ample, and sit for hours in this garden is to listen to confidences and withhold all alone?” advice! what were the conditions, the i smiled as i asked it. i think that i three conditions that peleas had named? can, without long acquaintanceship, dis ah, and if any one thinks me a little mad tinguish those who love the companion i delight in the charge. for if there be ship of outdoors and those who are merely any possibility, however mad, whereby alive to its values as a background. one may win back an hour of his youth, i at length, having penetrated the gar cry scorn to the unimaginative old who den, we crossed a lawn to a low wall show would not give it trial. who could prove ing faintly in the deepening dusk; and that if one of seventy or thereabouts lionel unlatched a little wicket gate, made went into a summer orchard with the right like the cover of an ancient treasure bas word on his lips youth might not for one ket, and held it wide for ine to pass. as brief, sweet moment visibly return, and i did so i saw that we had left the house one might not know, through all one's a distance behind and were entering the tired being, its pulses and its heights? orchard. no one could possibly disprove it-i most to me, as life grows late, an orchard be happily defy any one to disprove it even comes more of an expression of myself now! as for me i believe so heartily in than is a wood. the loneliness and aloof all the wonder of the world that i think ness of a wood terrify me not a little, but no radiant phenomenon could surprise me. the intimacy of an orchard is the sweetest in a fine excitement i bent my energies to a wood is like a wonderful remembering what one must do to make stranger; an orchard is like a dear friend. trial of the magic of orchards.' and at a wood is a stately salon; an orchard is that very moment i heard lionel saying: a cheery, gossipy kitchen-something is “aunt etarre, you look like the spirit always being done in orchards, fruit is of the place-my lady demeter, come to getting made, virtue is going out of the taste of her trees." bark. “demeter was young, lionel,” i pro- “an orchard always makes me want to tested in unfeigned sadness. keep house under the trees,” exclaimed “i know it, dear,” assented lionel. lionel suddenly. “see there — what a "she couldn't help it. neither can you. place for the best room! and there might do you know," said the dear boy, "i have reassurance. the magic of orchards long had a secret theory that you are “ah, jove!” cried lionel suddenly; twenty.” “aunt etarre, what do you think i have and at that peleas' words came back in my pocket?" to me. with infinite pains, for all his boy's “first," he had said, one must go to eagerness, he drew something forth from an orchard with some one who would not be within his coat, and when i saw it i was in the least surprised to see one become fain to gasp with delight and astonishment. young again." for he showed me two long, black, di- and here was lionel actually insisting vergent musical pipes, fitted to a single on my youth! besides, i knew lionel to mouth-piece, and fashioned like the pipes be one of the adorable few who could almost of the young pan or of the ancient shep- certainly have come upon pan on a hillside herds under the lime-trees of cos and the without one throb of fear. so then-one oaks of himera. had only, according to peleas, to pay one's “lionel!” | cried, “wherever did you debt "to the orchard, or nature, or some get them?” of them” for that hour of youth, and to be “a fellow brought them to me,” ex- able to say the word that should break plained lionel. “i jabbed a hole in my the spell, in order to be, for one hour, pocket so they'd go down the lining. young-young-young again. i smiled at aren't they immense? they aren't old, my wandering fancy even as i indulged you know—they make 'em for you in it, and a fancy must be very wild indeed sicily, while you wait. but,” he blew a to deserve my smile. what was the word, soft note, long and immeasurably sweet, i wondered; what was the word that "wouldn't that fairly make one go a-shep- would break the spell and would prove if herding?” he asked exultantly. "what such things indeed be? but even if the a place to have them-here in the or- word came to me, whatever could i do to chard! i can show you a little how they pay back my debt for such magic as that? go,” he added, and stood erect under the i looked at lionel standing under an shadowy tree, and set the pipes to his lips. apple-tree, one arm thrown across a bur oh, and it was sweet-sweet like the for- dened branch, his face uplifted, his pure gotten wind of old days, wind that caught profile against the pure gold of the west. the sound of pipings “down the valleys how i loved his young strength, the young wild” in far lands of sun, when the world eagerness, the young hope! and suddenly was young, and the nightingale sang from the memory of the insistent laugh of the the thicket and “spring, the thrice-desir- lady of "chiffon" besieged me, of the up able," walked delicately abroad. it was ward intonations, the dreadful gayety, the as if a strain from the music of a sicilian presence of her, like a rough wind from night crept down the orchard. i listened another climate. if only i could make breathlessly, and it was half as if the him see! if only i could make him see dimming orchard, and the golden fruit her for one moment as she was! ah, there yet warm from the sun, and the paling would be the paying of my debt for an west and the little moon were some way a hour of such magic as i dreamed, and there part of me, and listened breathless, too. would be reason enough for the coming of so i cannot tell whether what i heard was such magic into the world. and straight in the air that lionel was fashioning- way i protest, being a very stupid old whether he knew that he played it or woman, who can entertain but one fancy whether, indeed, some remembered har- at a time, my desire for youth for its own mony of those ancient, enchanted days sake quite deserted me, and i became pos found its way to the pipes of its own ac- sessed only of a passionate wish for youth, cord, but i protest that suddenly there an hour of youth to try to make lionel see sounded such a strain of unearthly beauty the pit in the path he was choosing. does in his simple melody that it caught at that seem to youth a gray pastime for my heart like a tender hand. it was an youth? ah, but when life grows late and air, not alone like the measures of my own the days are colorless then, it may be, youth, but like the youth of the race, the such pastimes have at length all the gold youth of the world, the youth of the sing- of adventure and the glamour of any quest. ing stars. and then i knew the word- the outing magazine i knew the word that would break the and we paced deeper in the green arcade, spell. how else should one be young and returned to the grassy aisle, and than by thinking of youth, dreaming of touched hands, and went forward to a youth, feeling youth in the heart of him, merrier note. but to me there seemed admitting nothing but youth to the cur no incongruity in the moment, and this rents of his blood? is the test of the heights of all experience "youth!” i said to myself, and barely-and of all madness. above my quick breath-"the word is "lionel," i said, "this is the way they youth!” did when the world was young and when as we turned i put my hand to my there was nothing of it but the outdoors.” hair in swift trepidation. where was my he nodded, piping. lavender cap? not on my head-and i “this is the way,” i went on, “that we must certainly have worn it in the garden should all do, if the world were all made of and did i fancy it, or was my hair thick outdoors now, and nothing else.” and soft as it used to be--and oh, was it he sounded a gay little note that brown? i could not tell if it were indeed seemed to me to signify his supreme but assuredly it was magically willingness. luxuriant. what of this sudden exulta “but in that case,” said i boldly, “we tion that had come upon me, these pulses should have to make over half the people of summer, this intoxicating sense of being of the world. not-not all of us could at one with all the joyous hour? youth, belong in such a picture as this, lionel. youth! i cried to myself; what might it be some of us," said i in spite of myself, but youth, come to me for the one miracu "would seem, in this orchard, like a rough lous hour of paradise? i dared not look wind from another climate.” down at my hands, but i slipped them i hesitated, wondering greatly how in among the folds of my skirts, for they the world i could make him see that, just would have told the truth. but the little as the star of “chiffon” would be a rough ring of pearls that peleas had set there wind there in the orchard, so she would be when i was twenty had not grown old, in all his life. and how should the hands be old? i felt “after all,” i said, standing opposite the breath of the orchard on my mouth, him in the twilight, "after all, lionel, the brush of leaves all about me, the piping women do not change. custom and civil- of the song of the youth of all things in ization vary, but the heart of a woman my ears, and i was young again, i say never changes. as they were long ago that i was young, with a draught of the in sicily, as they are in every woman's nectar of the high gods. youth, so they remain. and you can al- i held out my hand to lionel and touched ways test them. if i were a man, in love my finger tips to my flowered skirts. he with a woman, do you know how i could understood, and caught my hand and, tell whether she were the eternal woman, the pipes still set to his lips, paced with the one woman?” me down the dim aisle of the trees. we “how?” asked lionel; and he had seemed to know the simple, stately meas stopped his piping. ure as if we had danced it all our days “test her by the outdoors,” said i. a measure that went trippingly and yet “she may be glittering and splendid in a with all the delicacy of a thing not danced, drawing-room, she may be adorable at but remembered. we turned, and bowed, dinner, and perfect at a ball; but when and stepped from each other, the soft grass she is outdoors under a blue sky there may yielding, my flowery skirts trailing and be something-her laugh, her artificiality, sweeping mistily about me; and when we the very flush on her cheeks—that will faced the garden we were in shadow, but make you ashamed.” when we turned toward the west the pale i held my breath; for it was as if i had light was in our eyes and we saw the painted the very picture of the star of crescent of the moon trembling above the “chiffon,” a splash of crude color on the fruit of the topmost boughs. and now i evenly meted dusk. stepped within the shadow of a tree, and "in my youth," i said, "these things now he gravely met me on its other side, were not so difficult. a lady at her loom, the magic of orchards before her embroidery frame, in a minuet, he rushed away from me, up the path- at the spinnet, or, let us say, a-maying- poor boy, his pipes silent in his hand. she was not to be mistaken. we went when i had followed sorrowfully, griev- about our tasks with a difference. we ing for the old-new ache of the heart, i painted, we wove, we washed the china came to the little wicket gate, like the and whitened the silver and brewed the cover of an ancient treasure-basket, and punch and listened to our elders. and there i found peleas waiting for me. then that was because the land was yet young i remembered what wonderful thing had and there was something of the outdoors happened to me, and how my youth had left in all our hearts. but now when a come upon me, and i hurried to him wist- thousand walls have shut us in, we must fully-for i had longed, so many times, drag one another back to nature by force not to grow old in his eyes. before we know the truth about ourselves. “peleas," i whispered him, “peleas- and with all the best of us the outdoors look at me!” shows us true; and with all the worst of he looked, and took my hand, and bent us it shows us false. will you prove her to kiss me; but there was no surprise in so?” i cried, and i was amazed at my own his face. daring; surely, surely the daring of youth “peleas,” i cried, “but how do i look?” was in my veins. “will you prove her “like a girl, etarre,” he said; but still so, lionel?” i cried. there was in his face no surprise. he came a step nearer and looked down we went through the old-fashioned gar- at me without speaking. den toward the house, and i was silent "when i was young—” i began, trem with marveling. we reached the steps, ulously. and i heard the voices of the others in the the twilight had deepened so that i hall, and i knew that in a moment i must could hardly see his face; i was frightened know the truth. i touched my hair-the at my own words, and i kept my hands lavender cap was not there; but still i clasped tightly behind me, my fingers on would not look at my hands, for they would the little worn ring of pearls that peleas tell me the truth. i took peleas' arm had slipped there when i was twenty. and mounted to the veranda, and turned if i were to look at my hands i should to him eagerly as we stepped within the know the truth-yet if that little ring were lighted cave of the hallway. not old how should the hands be old? “you look like a girl to-night, etarre,” “when i was young,” i said, “i think said peleas again. but neither in his face there was something of the outdoors left nor in his tender voice was there any sur- in all our hearts.” prise. “so there is now,” said lionel suddenly and caught and kissed my hand. so i “chiffon' has gone to australia,” said knew that he had understood all that i had miss lillieblade two months later, in tried to tell him. town. “lionel,” i said, with infinite tender “and where is lionel?” i asked with ness, “i know all about it. i feel as if i had interest. been given back an hour of my youth to “back in college, like a white man and tell you that i do know. i have been very unlike a poet,” said miss lillieblade, with bold to speak of her,” i said, trembling, reminiscent bitterness. “ but i don't think, i don't think, lionel, when she was gone peleas looked at me that the outdoors would approve her, nor fixedly. would the orchard," i added, “on such a "etarre," he said, "speaking of lionel, night.' but you must forgive me.” and that week-end at miss willie's house he put out his hands with an inarticu in westchester- “yes," said i innocently. “who are you?” he said, almost with “did you ever try the magic of that or- a sob, "you don't speak to me like aunt chard?” he asked. etarre. you don't understand her. you “yes,” i confessed, “i did. did you, don't peleas?” “i know, i know," i answered sadly. "i did," he admitted, "one night- late cry: the outing magazine when i waited for you by the little wicket gate. i suspected it was what you were doing.” "and did it-did it come true, peleas?" i asked eagerly. “ah, well now, did it?” he parried. “you saw me.” we were silent for a moment, smiling into each other's eyes. “if you take youth with you into an orchard or into a market-place, for that matter," said peleas, “i suppose there always will be magic, will there not?” that seemed most reasonable, even for magic. “but," i said lingeringly, for i liked well my old fancy, “where was my laven- der cap, peleas? we both knew that many an argument of reason has been overthrown by no more valid an objection. and we both have a theory that it is as well to believe all the impossible things as to be deceived in many of those that are possible. “besides,” said peleas, “we are young to each other. and that is magic enough.” there's music in my heart to-day by lloyd roberts there's music in my heart to-day; the master-hand is on the keys, calling me up to the windy hills and down to the purple seas. let time draw back when i hear that tune old to the soul when the stars were new- and swing the doors to the four great winds, that my feet may wander through. north or south, and east or west; over the rim with the bellied sails, from the mountains' feet to the empty plains, or down the silent trails- it matters not which door you choose; the same clear tune blows through them all, though one heart leaps to the grind of seas, and one to the rain-bird's call. however you hide in the city's din and drown your ears with its siren songs, some day steal in those thin, wild notes, and you leave the foolish throngs. god grant that the day will find me not when the tune shall mellow and thrill in vain- so long as the plains are red with sun, and the woods are black with rain. along the stubbles chauncey bags a chicken by maximilian foster in n the golden world of the september like gittin' 'em out of a barnyard! sure stubbles all the air snapped and it is!” crackled with the frost; and there all of which joe said sincerely; but ris- at the edge of the landscape was the sun ing to the occasion, we wished to know. of a cloudless day just lifting above the "well-outside workin' the dogs,” said sky-line. all dakota stretched before us he, switching around in his seat; "there in the light of that sparkling dawn-an ain't much to it. they lie too close-you undulating sweep of yellow, stripped to the got to walk up to the bunch an' kick 'em harvest, and with only the rounded domes out, an' then they buzz up like a lot of of the straw piles and the blur of some turkey fatters. ahr-it's a right an' left lonely tree-claim to break its infinity of every time; an’ if you know the game, levels. against the east, a threshing crew you c'n tear the hull innards out o' a had begun their day, the long box of the flock. i ain't much fur it.” thresher breaking down the rounded curve but in september, said joe--after the of land and sky, and over its tail an arc frosts began--that was different! of winnowed straw-chaff gushing from the "git a little tech o’ frost in their blood funnel; and there, too, along the distance -nippy days like this—an' they ain't goin’ crawled a great northern freight, its string to hang aroun' under foot till ye got to of box cars standing up like houses in the go an' kick 'em up.” lucid air. but ever in the north the chirruping to the team, joe turned off fields lay bare and lifeless, a wide country from the line road, and swung out into for the birds, and turning the heads of the the open stubble. a mile beyond, just team, we drove on into the eye of the over the horses' ears, a tree-claim stood up breeze. against the sky-line in a dusky blur; and “hunh nippy like, now ain't it?” below that, on the right, was a long hay grumbled joe, hunched up in the collar meadow spreading down to the edges of of his coat; "well, we got to hunt up into a slough. “keep yer eyes peeled, now,” the wind, anyhow; an’ if you folks is friz, cautioned joe, waving his whip toward the git out an’ walk a bit." stubble on the side; "they's a bunch to walk meant an obvious delay. we handy here.” rode and froze. under foot the dogs reining up, joe sat back in the seat and huddled among the lap robes stirred un watched, while we fumbled among the easily—there were four of them crouched robes for a dog. bird, the setter bitch, in the wagon-box-and every movement went out over the right wheel first, a little let in a gush of the tart air that stung to loath to be dragged from her warm bed- the marrow like steel. ding; but rap, the pointer, scenting ex- “w-wwish we'd-dd-d c-come in august!" citement and whimpering at the chance chattered peter chauncey. for a run, piled out over the end-gate at “august, hey-hunh!" joe, with an a word. other grunt, disdainfully flicked the team, "heck-now that's a pretty pair, any- and we rattled onward over the prairie how,” praised joe, as the two burst away road. "august, hey? say--they ain't a-gallop; "ever tried 'em afore in big much fun shootin' them pore little birds country-out here in the open, eh?" in august. chickens in hot weather is but the truth of the matter was that the outing magazine ing dog. a shrill whistle stopped him; he bird, ranging up against the familiar trees, turned and threw up his head. there was was taking in every inch of the cover, pod, holding stiff to the point, and with a cleaning up the ground methodically and quick turn, full of life and power, the smart at a patient gait that made joe snort pointer brought himself to a standstill and loudly in disdain. "there's quail dog for backed the other manfully. ye! lawd—it's like she's hunting mice!" spreading out, we walked up cautiously, but bird, none the less, knew in her own waiting for the birds to rise. foot by foot way exactly what she was about, and we edged along, and i heard peter chaun rounding up at the corner, she turned, cey mumbling through his teeth, “suf cocked herself sideways and came to a fering cæsar — do you see them yet ?” beautiful stand. but there was the open stubble, as bare “gosh-get her!” was what joe said, and flat, apparently, as the palm of your and pulled the horses to a standstill. hand; and though i screwed my eye to it together we climbed down, loaded and hard and looked there was not a feather walked in on the bitch. on my right, now, to be seen. “walk in—walk in on 'em!” was peter chauncey, going jauntily, the roared joe; and we walked till pod was confidence of success still strong in him almost trod upon. and the memory of his right and left to b -whirr! a bird lurched up almost back it. joe, cocked up on the wagon under foot — another and more. seat, waved pod away to the open where in that instant the air seemed full of birds the other birds had settled, and turned - all the bunch got up at once, and to watch the sport. bang----bang- peter chauncey cut away “easy there!” he yelled to us, and later into the rush. one bird, a full-grown cock i remembered. but as peter chauncey that was lining it away toward the tree said, it had been too easy; and instead claim, doubled up on himself and thumped of widening out so that one of us, at least, to the ground; and—bang-i let go at might rake the other side of the tree-claim, the right and missed cleverly. then an we came up briskly along the trees, and other bird thumped to the prairie-peter what happened after that i am not at all chauncey had a double; and pulling on sure i can tell. a straight-away-bang!- that was bet for together, like a pair of grouse in the ter. a drift of downy feathers settled timber, the two chickens got up thirty along the wind, and the bird, going on a yards away, and buzzed to the right and bit, collapsed suddenly and turned up its left. the outer bird, catching the wind toes in the stubble! under its wings, beat it away from my looking after the birds, we saw them neighbor, and—bang-bang !—the bird went swim along toward the tree-claim, and on unscathed. but the other, shying from breaking there in a wide circle, drift down the open, dodged along the edge of the to the stubble. joe, standing up on the tree-claim like a pennsylvania pheasant, wagon seat, had marked them down, too; and i cracked away at it foolishly, and and at his call pod stood up and bustled empty-handed slouched back to the wagon. around before us. “dead-dead, pod “hunh-eh it was easy, hey?” croaked hey you, pod!" yelled joe cheerfully; joe; "easy like it pained ye! that's and the red pointer snatched up my single all right- seen it.” and delivered it to hand. together, the two dogs, ranging out at "now then," suggested joe, reining down the east of us, had caught a pair of singles, into a walk as we came up against the tree pod's a running bird that he moved upon claim; "mebbe you'd like to drop that swiftly; but bird holding hers close at setter-bitch an' pick up the pinter to rest. hand. so the pair of us, just settling to there's two birds swung in here out o'the the seat, piled out again, fumbling in our bunch-she oughter work 'em up in the coats for the shells. “hold on there!" trees. say—them chicken is lyin' mighty yelled joe, leaning down in the wagon; close for this time o' year, ain't they?” "jes' a minute!” there was a rattle of picking up the pointer, we dropped chain, then—"still, there, coon!”—and bird to the stubble, and drifted along the leaning out over the wheel, joe bundled edge of the tree-claim, watching. for out a chocolate-colored pointer that would along the stubbles have gladdened the heart of a breeder the time that bird got the wind under him, hunting for height and bone. for in coon you was fishin' all over the sky with yer was all the size one could have looked for, gun barrels, tryin' to cover him, an' him a big, upstanding dog, full of room for flip-floppin' aroun' like a snipe.” lungs, lean, cleanly trimmed in the shoul we took the rebuke meekly, and getting ders and standing forward as closely as in again, drove along toward the west. a cat. from the turn of his head to the joe, it appeared, knew the game. “why, sweeping curve of hip and stifle he was shucks!” he laughed; “and you sayin' it all the dog that one could want, but there was too easy, hey? say-ic'd jes' hear was one point about him, as we learned that ole chicken hollerin' tut-tut-tut-tut! readily enough, that offset all that quality of like was a-laughin' at ye!” good looks. pod, with all his ungainliness, but at the next stand we retrieved our- was amiable and affectionate; coon was a selves. coon, ranging off to the west, beauty, but a sulky one. once put down picked up a brace of strays; and mindful in the field, he hunted as it pleased him this time of joe's warning, we rounded up self, and would stand no driving at the behind the pointer with our backs to the work. wind. the first of the pair, rising wild, by this time the wind had risen stiffly, got up almost out of gun shot; and peter and over against the west the flying dust chauncey and i, together, squibbed away banked up like a fog. the frost had gone at him, giving each other no choice of the out of the air, but the sky still lay cloudless shot. one of us got him, though it took above us; and only for the wind and dust, three shots to bring him down; and as the day was perfect. with our backs to peter chauncey broke his gun to throw the gale, we walked down the stubble, and out the shells, the second bird arose on my holding our guns before us, sidled in toward right, suddenly and as i dropped the the dogs. "hie!" yelled joe, and looking barrels to him, somersaulted neatly and back, we saw him waving desperately. came to earth. “go front 'em!” he shouted, and swung “well, now, that's better,” said joe his arm in a circle. but we were doing approvingly, as we walked up to the wagon; this. if we walked down ahead of the and once more pulling bird aboard, we dogs, there was little telling where they rolled away across the wheat-fields. just would get up. so we pushed in, a bird beyond us a homesteader's big barns and buzzed up like an alarm clock right ahead, out-buildings stood up against the dusty and pushed by the gale, spread away hel- sky-line. "that fodder-fiel' yonder," said ter-skelter on the left. joe, pointing with his whip, “oughter in that wind the twelve-gauge cracked have a bunch lyin' 'roun'it, mebbe. like a squib-bing!—i had him before he we'll jes' throw the dogs along there, got under way; but the second bird, anyhow." flushed wide, got into the breeze before coon, coming in at the left of us, struck there was a gun on him, and bolting off the edge of the tall stalks, turned, and was sideways with the full force of it to help rushing off again, when pod, a little be- him, was going like a rocket when we cut yond, hunched up his shoulders, and at a away. bang-bang!-then crack! peter swift patter crept down the outer furrow chauncey's right and left came-bang turned by the plow at the field side. bang! i tried to wipe his eye; and the “steady!” yelled joe, seeing him; and chicken, hiking it for all it was worth, at the cry the big dog, coon, turned about went on down the breeze, its wings beat and galloped toward his mate. pod had ing swiftly-sailing a ways-winging it on found the birds and was standing them, again, and at last drifting down into the one fore-foot doubled up beneath his edge of the meadow hay, a half mile breast, but coon, the jealous brute, in- beyond. stead of backing his partner on the point, “well,” said joe tartly, driving up; “if was still rushing up, and plainly bent on you'd not thought it was so plumb easy, stealing the other's laurels. “hie, you mebbe you'd be puttin' that chicken in -coon!” screamed joe angrily; but the the wagon-box now. didn't i yell to ye big pointer gave no heed. pushing in to flush 'em down wind ? i see ye. by ahead stealthily, like the thief he was, he the outing magazine settled himself-stood an instant-crawled it was no easy work to stop them; and closer; and at that, a little cloud of chicken between us we ruined more good corn than burst up out of their cover and scattered we brought down feathers to show for it. over the field of standing corn. pushing our birds under the seat, we in that moment i think we had our climbed in; and with all three of the dogs wounded feelings salved with the balm of going it in front, sheered off toward the a real and poetic justice. other dogs but slough. ours had their faults, we saw. there was there, on the edge of the high ground joe, given over to a flood of fluent anglo that stretched down toward the marsh, saxon; and there was peter chauncey, we found another bunch-the biggest of grinning amiably and full of sweet atten the day. pod and bird, ranging together tion. and there, too, was the big pointer down the line of weeds at the field's edge, coon, rushing about in heedless excitement, struck them at the fence corner, and set- and poor pod looking at his master and tled to the point; rap, coming after, with his heavy face full of canine wonder backed them neatly; and there we had ment. the three, so close to the wagon that we that ended coon's usefulness for the could have taken the shot without moving. day. pod, going on, found the birds but the whole affair, as it proved, turned again; and once more the big pointer out less easy than we thought. the birds flushed them exultantly, romping through were big and strong, there was the wind to the corn in the sheer delight of his ugly help them, and the first bird, rising wild, disposition. so picking him up by the took all the others with it, and went sailing scruff of the neck, joe threw him into the off into the distance. at the first barrel wagon; and setting down the pointer rap nothing happened; the second was little again, we went after the scattered birds better. a little jump of feathers an- that had dropped on the further end of swered to the shot, but the bird, picking the field. up, went on and left us. but we marked in that standing cover, with the breeze it and all the others; and with the horses to make things lively, we had our sport of at a stiff trot, took after them. once more the day. the two pointers, sliding up and the dogs picked up outlying birds; and down the furrows, picked up the birds, one again and again, the chicken flushed wild, by one. they lay pretty close to the edge, or, at the best, at a pretty stiff range. to be sure, but not quite far enough out shell after shell we wasted in trying to into the open to make any slaughter of bring them down; and the most that we the shooting. each bird we had to go in got for our pains was the scorn and derision after; and between the wind and the toss of joe. even the cripple hit in that first ing corn stalks that swept into the way at volley almost lost us, too, and rising out every shot, the two of us did an hour's very of a little hollow, was almost over the pretty missing. two bunches we found edge of the rise when peter chauncey got along that mile of corn---they were around him with a long straight-away from the us on every side, it seemed-single birds left. and doubles; but they got up as they so when a horn in the nearby farm-house pleased. catching the wind behind them blew its call, we picked up our lone trophy, as they buzzed out from beneath our feet, and turned the team that way. some lake-side waders of the northwest by herbert k. job photographs by the author ago that t was not so from the upper missouri for a few score very long miles and reached the lake region in what is now north dakota, he could have filled when our migra- many a gap in his material. there the wild tory shore-birds geese and ducks nest even now and the and water-fowl elusive shore-birds rear their young. with departed on a boat launched on the minnewaukon, or their northward “spirit water,” he might have been rea- flight they with- sonably safe from the savages, for even to drew into a this day the indians have a superstitious realm of mys- fear of paddling out on its waters, believing tery, beyond that the mysterious evil spirit may destroy reach and ob them. servation of the along the gravelly margin of this large naturalists who lake resort hosts of shore-birds in the season would gladly of migration; but for breeding purposes have learned those which stay prefer the little grassy their secrets. to pools or sloughs which lie back on the one who makes prairie from the larger lakes. these are no pretension of scattered all over the region, from the being as great a naturalist as audubon dakotas, western minnesota and eastern it is mightily interesting to read his biog montana, northward through manitoba and raphies of these birds so mysterious to assiniboia, and up into the saskatchewan him, and feel just a bit elated in knowing country, the muskeg region, and the bar- more of some of them than he did, to have ren grounds to the arctic sea. all this found nests which he never set eyes upon, is the favorite summer home of multitudes and to have traversed regions which, with of our swift-flying, mysterious shore-birds, all his enthusiasm, he then found it impos or limicolæ, and the keen enthusiast who sible to penetrate. in his day the west and has long tried to become familiar with northwest were practically inaccessible. them can here find them in goodly numbers he did at last manage to ascend the mis and study them at leisure. souri river by boat to the borders of our most of the species go far to the north to present montana, after many weeks of toil those parts of their range which are as yet and danger. but even then he could not little known and quite inaccessible. the wander back from the muddy river to the final weeding-out process in the southern grass-girt prairie lakelets where the hordes part of this range comes promptly with the of wild fowl nested. there was constant early days of june. i shall never forget danger from indians, and to study birds un the sight which i witnessed for a few hours der military escort is not the most success one day in may in north dakota on a ful method. little, shallow, muddy, alkaline pool of a if only he could have struck eastward few acres. just back from the shore, in the outing magazine of insect prey. some dry rushes, were two nests of the permitted to any but the most favored mallard and two of the marsh hawk. the lovers of wild nature. would that audu- water of the pool was but a few inches deep bon could have enjoyed this treat! in any part, and it was fairly alive with of this trinity of odd characters—bird- shore-birds. there were golden and black freaks, we might call them—which we are bellied plovers, yellow-legs, dowitchers, following up, the bright and shining light sanderlings and other sandpipers, turn is certainly the avocet. its very appear- stones, avocets, willets and phalaropes. ance is distinguished, and instantly arrests they were wading about and actively prob- attention. the plumage is of sharply con- ing the soft mud, without any interference trasted black and white, with yellowish buff or jealousy, and all were having a fine time. on head and neck; the legs are like stilts, within a few days all but the last three while the bill, too, is long and slender, curv- kinds had left for the far north, and even ing up in a way to make one wonder how among the phalaropes there was a division, the creature can eat. the first pair which for there were two kinds, the northern and i ever saw, on the shore of a dakota lake, the wilson's, and it was only the latter made a profound impression on me by their which stayed. appearance and graceful movements as back on the dry prairies the sickle-billed they ran jauntily about pursuing some sort curlew, the marbled godwit, the upland or field plover and the kildeer nested; but this the saying that what is meat to one may group of three—the avocet, willet and wil be poison to another is well exemplified in son's phalarope-form a distinct unity, the avocet. for our part, we have to exer- shore-birds which nest beside the grassy cise great care in that western country to pools in this southern section of the north avoid drinking alkaline water, whereas the west shore-bird paradise. avocet dislikes the insipid stuff which we i propose that we pitch our tent among extol as pure. seemingly it is as objection- these open lakelets in a well-watered region able to him as food without salt is to us. in western assiniboia, tether out the horses, hence we have to travel well west toward and enjoy these quaint shore-birds. where the bad lands of dakota before we find we see one, we shall probably find the three, the water sufficiently seasoned to suit our and discover that, though they mingle on dainty epicure and to induce him to remain good terms in their bird society, each has a for the summer. even the most unsavory distinct and pronounced individuality. mud hole, which is too bad for most of the as we approach the lake which we have other birds, is not without attraction for selected for our camping ground, we shall that craver of strong condiments. be wise to exercise more circumspection practically every lake and pool in the than our shore-birds find necessary, or we region where we stayed in western assini- may meet with unpleasantness, such as i boia had its breeding colony of avocets experienced when new to that country. running and vociferating along its muddy we were driving over the prairie toward a shores. these colonies are not great bird lake, having no eyes for anything save the cities, but villages and hamlets, making up avocets on the shore and three pairs of in number what they lack in size. they wild geese out in the water, which seemed average from three or four to a dozen or solicitous over our intrusion. it was an fifteen pairs, though occasionally they run alkaline country, and the ground, which up to several dozens. the first such group looked firm and dry with a crust of the salts, which we found comprised about fifteen proved to be far otherwise. suddenly the families, and was situated along the shore horse broke through this crust, and, after a of a muddy bay of a large lake. it was the short struggle, fell down and lay still, com last week in may, and, as we approached pletely mired, the wagon also sinking in up this shallow arm of the lake, with its to the hubs. we had an unpleasant time of whitened margin, we could see the distin- it before we got out. but, with the exercise guished avocets wading about. near them of due care, we may make camp on a dry were a large company of black-bellied plov- spot on the breezy prairie beside the lake, ers and sanderlings, with some willets and and learn more about shore-birds and water- godwits and a few phalaropes. the mi- fowl from first-hand observation than is gratory plovers, as usual, were decidedly the phalarope is a quiet, beautiful little bird, with no immodest outcries. separated by the typical barbed-wire fence. them out of the water. out in the mid- on one side were a number of ferocious dle the waders sprang aleak, and a sharp looking black bulls, and on the other a herd buckle pulled out and fell down inside under of cows and calves. no sooner did i ap one foot, causing agony at every step. the pear than the dozen or so pairs of avocets straps almost choked me, but there was no which dwelt around the pools hastened to relief but to reach the island as quickly as meet me, making more din than one would possible, or sacrifice the precious cameras. believe possible from so few birds. the being alone, there was danger of being young were evidently all hatched, and i did drowned, but i struggled slowly on through not see one of the little skulkers. between the reeds, and was glad enough when, gasp- the roaring of the bulls, the lowing of the ing, i stumbled ashore and threw down the other cattle, and the screaming of the avo pack. immediately a crowd of avocets set cets, assisted by a couple of pairs of willets, up a shrieking, ducks fluttered off their it was hardly a place for quiet meditation nests, and there was general pandemonium upon the wonders of nature. nor was the among the various water-birds feeding in attitude of taurus toward strangers con or by the pools. here was many a day's ducive to prolonged stay. work cut out for me right in this one lo- the best avocet ground which i happened cality. upon in assiniboia was an island in a large before me was a series of alkaline lake- lake, separated from the mainland by about lets nestling in the depressions of the a third of a mile of morass, with water from grassy island, and it took but a few mo- waist to breast deep. it appeared from ments to find nest after nest of the avocets. shore to be a likely place, and get to it i in this case there were no flats extending would, though there was no boat. so i back from the shores, only narrow margins tethered the horse out to graze, donned backed by sloping banks covered with the high rubber wading pants, and started thick prairie grass, so that all the nests were across with some fifty pounds of cameras, close to the water's edge, and had been plates and various necessities strapped built up a couple of inches to keep the eggs high and tight around my neck, to keep from being overflowed in rain storms. it the outing magazine was the middle of june, and unfortunately the eggs had all hatched, save for a few which had spoiled and had remained in the nests. the young, as usual, were secure- ly hidden in the grass, save in one nest which afforded a most interesting specta- cle. there was an unhatched egg; by it was an empty egg-shell, out of which the wet, slimy little avocet had just crawled; an- other youngster, all dried off, was still in the nest and looked very pretty; just outside was the eldest of the family, already mak- ing off to the conventional hiding place in the grass. as i examined and photo- graphed them, the anxious parents were outdoing themselves in the perfectly war- rantable display of their strong emotions. they had chosen their nesting site in a very interesting and populous center, for, be- sides other avocets' nests, there were within a few rods a nest and eggs each of the mal- lard, pintail, gadwall and blue-winged teal. the mallard's nest was only a few feet away, back in the grass, but evidently there was no discord between these somewhat dissimilar bird neighbors. this island with its ponds proved to be a fine place also for a study of the avo- cet's congenors, the willet and the wil- son's phalarope. the willet, well known to sportsmen, is a grayish bird, a little smaller than the avocet, and likewise long of bill and legs, but more widely distributed over the united states. it breeds also in the far south, and i have found them nesting in colonies on sandy islands off the southern coasts of the united states. and here, away up in the canadian northwest, was the old familiar, inquisitive, vociferous ac- quaintance, the very same, though its plumage is a mere shade lighter, and scien- tists call it the western willet. the nest is built in some tussock of thick grass, and it is next to impossible to find it, unless one happens to surprise the female on the nest. often, though, by his scream- ing, the male warns her off, and then one may as well abandon the search. but if one finds the nest and returns to it some other time opportunely before the alarm is given, the female will sit very close and allow one almost to touch her before she flutters out. in the nesting season, when the young are not very near and in no immediate dan- ger, the willet becomes almost companion- able. to be sure he is spying on us, but he is not by any means “impossible,” since he abates his angry dashes at one's head and to some extent his scream about “pill- willy-willet,” and simply follows the in- truder to make sure that he behaves him- self. wherever we go, unless it be too far back on the dry prairie, it is likely that a willet will comprise part of the scenery, trotting along through the grass or on the shore of the pool, making a pretense at feed- ing, but always keeping his weather-eye open. but if, at length, we unwittingly come too near the place where the young are in hiding, there is sure to be renewed trouble. both the willets will be every- where, dashing at us, scurrying about in the grass, or alighting on the nearest bush, withal never forgetting to vociferate. how- ever, in spite of all the abuse which the willets have lavished upon me, i am free to confess that i love them still, the saucy, impudent things! very different in temperament is the small but interesting wilson's phalarope, a bird about as large as a medium-sized sand- piper. it is very common in nearly all parts of the northwestern prairies wherever there are grassy pools or sloughs. it is a quiet, beautiful little bird, with no im- modest outcries, feeding prettily along the moist margins of the sloughs, and not dis- tressing itself over our presence. from nearly every standpoint this phalarope- like all the other species of its class-is an anomaly among the birds. apparently a land bird, it has partially webbed or scalloped feet and is a good and graceful swimmer. the female is the larger and handsomer of the pair; she does the court- ing, and he most of the subsequent incu- bation and nursery work. he is duly meek and obedient, as becomes the hus- band of an amazon; for so worthy and strenuous a young female as she will not tolerate a buck hanging around idle when there is plenty of useful work to be done. for her part, to lay eggs so big that the chicks are clothed and able to run at birth is all that should reasonably be expected of her. their marital relations are otherwise scandalous, from our point of view. two or three idle, vainglorious females are often seen devoting themselves to one little male at the height of the nesting season, and no one seems to be sure whether or not he is some lake-side waders of the northwest the husband of any one or all of them. chicks i had ever laid eyes upon, with long anyhow they are all head over ears in love legs and a striped black and reddish downy with him. one such group of four followed plumage, squatting in a heap in the grass. me around one afternoon, as though anx while i photographed them the stricken ious about their nest in the grass. they father circled twittering around me quite alighted in a pool to swim about, and i se near by, giving me some good chances at cured a snapshot of them. him, too, with the camera. his wife, with we will keep walking about through the less evident concern, took matters more grass just back from the shore of the slough, calmly from a greater distance, though she and it is nearly inevitable that eventually was by no means unmoved, and occasion- a small bird will go fluttering out almost ally even ventured to join him. from our feet, and there is the grassy nest the phalarope is a perfect little gem in skillfully concealed in the tussock, with its beauty of plumage and grace of motion. four very heavily marked pointed eggs, indeed there is something most attractive with so many scrawls on them that they and appealing about the whole class of are almost black. the grass can be opened shore-birds, which so beautify both our up, the camera left focused upon the nest, marine and inland shores. unfortunately and a long thread connected with the they are becoming more and more scarce. shutter, and it will probably not be long the smaller kinds should never be classed before the solicitous and dutiful little hus as game birds, to be killed and eaten, any band will resume his brooding, and we can more than should warblers or thrushes, take his picture. while those which are larger and more fit for one of the prettiest sights i have wit food require more stringent protection and nessed in bird life was when a male phala- forbearance on the part of all true sports- rope fluttered up before me and disclosed men, to give them the chance which they four of the most singular-looking little so much need to recuperate their numbers. sodwit and avocet take breakfast together at the slough. a day with a devonshire farmer by arthur goodrich photographs by the author and others i ' t is half-past five in the morning when dred years fought rougher land over on i start up out of the luxurious, en the edge of dartmoor, a few miles away. folding feather bed at the rat-tat-tat some success with breeding ponies, how- of sally's knuckles on the door. her foot ever, brought him money enough to rent steps echo down the oil-clothed floor of the three hundred odd acres of hillscott the landing, and from somewhere beneath from the man who owns most of the land the sun-patched blind i can hear farmer for miles around, who builds the stout gray, hodge's voice giving laconic orders. and stone slate-roofed houses and stables and with mingled reluctance and pride at such puts his crest over the front door, and who early rising, slip out upon the soft sheep has the giving of the "living" (the appoint- skins that litter the cold floor. ment of the preacher) at the church in the rat-a-tat-tat. here is sally again with nearest town, three miles away. hodges, my hot water. a most extraordinary girl of course, pays all the local taxes—and is sally. she is only twenty, but her they are many—while the landlord pays father and mother, somerset people, have the church tax and the state tax and the both been dead for some time and sally is income tax and insures the property. and “workin' out.” she admits being very hodges pays from three dollars to twenty- fond of all the arts. her “favorite” songs five dollars an acre for the land, about two- are “the holy city” and “my daddy is thirds of which grows crops, while the rest a gentleman.' she is not certain which is orchard and pasture land. the farm- she likes the better, but she prefers them hands, half a dozen in number, live in both to “the lost chord.” as for books solid little cottages on the road below with she abominates dull reading, but she loves their own potato patch at their back door. great masterpieces like “lady audley's hodges pays them about four dollars a secret.” she has a secret passion for the week and furnishes them fuel and cider. “dramer," but she says she cried so hard much of this hodges tells me in inter- when she saw “the worst woman in mittent jerks of volubility while he and london” at plymouth that she fairly jeemes, the boy, milk the ten or a dozen dreads going again. sally has been up to cows in the sheds, and feed and water the london once, and she has a startling imi stock, and turn out the sheep and cows and tation park lane accent not unlike that calves into pasture in broad fields beyond which patriotic americans occasionally the sheds or in broader fields far down the smuggle through the new york custom road. he is by nature a silent man bred house. sally receives five dollars a month in the silences of the moor, but his pride in wages and works hard, although she is stirs his tongue now and then over his new conscious of being above her position. american machinery and the yield of his farmer hodges has only had the tenancy broad acres, over which he toils from dawn of hillscott farm for some dozen years till dark in spite of his seventy-five years. “come michaelmas”—the beginning and this is his world and he never has been out end of yearly rentings. before that he and of it even as far as exeter or plymouth. his fathers before him for some four hun he is proud of his cows, south devons, and in good old devonshire. the ducks pose for their photographs in the farmer's back yard, photograph by bowden bros. - - at the close of the day's work. a day with a devonshire farmer his bulls which are grazing on the moor steadily forward with a machine-like swing. now at five shillings ($ . ) a head. he is sitting on the wall i can see the sloping proud of his pigs, large blacks all of them, expanse of hillscott, long stretches of tended by one of hodges' many grandsons, gleaming stubble left from the crops of young roger. he struts along behind his wheat and oats, rich brown spaces patched sheep while shep and shot drive them with the green of mangel and potatoes and through the gateway, watching my face garden truck. below, the gray house and eagerly out of the corner of his eye, and outbuildings show their rigid edges among he points out for me—a most unusual thing sheltering evergreens, while the hill sides at for silent hodges to do—the little group of right and left are spotted with sheep and lambs he is fattening. about horses he cattle. and beyond, under peaceful skies has little to say, for like most of the farmers is the long sweep of valley divided into in this part of devonshire, he has merely light green fields by dark green hedges and a number sufficient to do his work. and by dry walls, their ugly gray covered with so we tramp back toward the house and moss and hedge growth. here and there, breakfast. i know, are old-time thatch-roofed cot- the men have already appeared when tages with flowers at every window, but breakfast is finished, and have brought with they are hidden in copses. here and there, them a load of dry stalks for the base of the i know, men are working and flocks are ricks that are to be built in the fields. up moving. but from my wall it is a motion- the narrow path we go past the orchard less sea of green. where the piles of apples already lie rotting, hodges, packing away at the rick over butter boxes and sour herefords and at my left, his dry, stolid face grimy above kingston bitters. soon they will be taken his shapeless corduroys, has had little to the pound house, where they will be schooling, less than young roger, who will crushed on the press between hair cloths, go through the fifth standard before he and the juice carried into the cellar. after begins farming in earnest. he reads the a few days when fermentation has begun papers only once a week and many of the it will be drawn off in casks prepared with large words bother him. but he knows burning sulphur, that fermentation may the land and the skies. no ground is be retarded and the saccharine retained, wasted in hillscott. that innocent mead- and then, after two or three “rackings” or ow at the foot of the slope, near the brook changes, the casks will be “bunged” and that twinkles under the ferns, is being let lie for three months. some years eaten down gradually. late in october devonshire cider brings hodges as much hodges will chain-harrow it and roll it and as twelve dollars and fifty cents a cask of open the surface gutters. when the young sixty-three gallons and some years as little shoots start he will turn on a well-regulated as two dollars, but whatever the surplus supply of water. by early february there supply yields, hodges himself must have will be a few inches of good grass for mid- enough, for each member of the family winter grazing. when april comes the drinks more cider than the average london meadow will be laid up for hay; in june woman drinks tea. this hay will be cut, and the aftermath will the beds for three corn ricks are soon last till another october. the fine thick laid at the edge of the sloping field beyond, hedge that surrounds the meadow means and the structures begin to rise, yellow and work also and has a value beyond mere shining in the morning sun. the boy beauty. hodges operates on it every half whistles merrily as he drives back and dozen years, cuts off most of the top growth forth the carts, laden with sheaves which leaving only the “steepers." then he have been lying where the fine new self throws up the earth from each hedge row, binder left them yesterday, or rattling lays down the “steeper," throws up more back empty for a new load. hodges him earth and leaves the top of the fence level. self directs the work, packing vigorously at he binds up the growth into faggots which the side while younger hands throw and young roger carries toilsomely into the lay the sheaves. beyond the wall in the kitchen to burn in the great hearth. next field the others, three in number, are but here is young roger now, trudging mowing the barley, broad backs moving along with a basket on his arm. it is ten hodges and his "gobblers." o'clock and lunch time. hodges has five yeard tell 'ow the maids baint very butivul meals a day, or, as he puts it, “us eats 's in ameriky." often 's us gets hungry.” the men group billy is as talkative as hodges is silent, behind the rising rick and eat their hunks and when we have agreed to disagree on of bread and cheese and drink their cider. the subject of his opening remark a rather across the path old billy shrimpton is one-sided conversation follows. it starts twisting on his spindle the thatch for two with my suggesting my surprise at hodges' completed ricks. he, too, stops for lunch. age. billy is a thatcher hy trade, but his real “i be in m'aigh-t-th year, zur," says business in life, the one he is proud of, is to billy proudly. follow the hounds on foot in a dingy red in spite of the gray fringe of whiskers, coat. this is startling when one looks at his “coomed auver yer vor a gaerl, p’raps,” straight back and his comparatively says old billy, offering me some cider. "i smooth brown skin. in the stone-floored farmyard. the outing magazine if i could zee 'er. i went right back tu a room wi' the door shut, an' there 'er wass, zur, a zittin' 'n thicky stranger's lap wi' 'er arms about 'is naick. "ello,' 'er zed, frighten'd like, bouncin' doon aff 'is lap. "baint expectin' yu.'" “ 'ello, yerzel,' zed . 'no, i knaw yu baint. who be thicky gurt rid-aided gawk?" "aw, jis 'n acquaintance,''er zed, face o'n so raid's a turkey cock. “acquaintance,' zed i. 'purty ac- quaintance. didn’ put yer arms about my naick when i was acquaintance.' “jis then, the stranger 'e declared 'iszel. "'er'n l's goin' to git married,''e zed. him was purty wull tinn'd up wi' gin-an’- watter, tu dimpsy to zay more. “married,'zed i. wull, i tell’ee, i baint.' an old-time devonshire farm. wull, there be a wuman auver chudleigh way 'at i thort a dacint, clean wuman an’ 's 'ad vore 'un'er' poun', yeard. t courted 'er proper vor vore months. 'er was yung, bein' only sixty, but i thort i could larn 'er what 'er didn'knaw. wull, wan, time i comeʼd away fum 'er, tellin' 'er | wadn'ubble t'zee 'er again vor dree weeks. then wan day yeard 't 'er was 'avin' zummin to zay to a stranger 'at was stappin' 'n chudleigh. zo i went auver, come second week, when 'er wadn’ lukin' ’er wadn’ at 'er 'ouse, zo i went auver to the pub. 'er wadn’ where the bar be but i knawed 'er was there, same's vor me. a call on the cider harrel. “an' then i oppened door an' com’d away, arter puttin' down dree 'appence vor a drink. “wull, 'er married wi' un. 'e was arter the vor un'er' poun', an' 'e was a young fule-'e baint vivty, zur. ’er didn' 'a' vore poun' wi’out the 'un'er, an' a vort- night ago 'e went away an' 'er baint yeard o'un since." i can hear billy's chuckles from far down the path after i have left him to the spindle and the crackling, winding thatch. mrs. hodges, stout, bustling and mother- ly is busy with the dairy. every wednes- day she goes to newton abbot market with her stores, and newton abbot is as far as she has ventured into the outer world. farmer hodges. tl "the old folks at home." photograph by edith steele perkins. a day with a devonshire farmer scrupulously clean and sweet conditions es mary, who has been in the grumbles' ser- sential to the old-fashioned“ tub-and-hand” vice for half a century, feeds in the stone- method of butter making, which still persists floored back yard, the sheep are the source throughout the greater part of the county. of the largest amount of grumble pride and on market day in the nearest town three profit. devonshire beef, he finds, has miles away, the narrow streets, edged by little chance against american and argen- plain two-story structures faced with a tine and australian beef. and the devon- yellowish-white composition of stone and shire farmer has a large wall of expense to cement, are filled with cattle and with the scale before he is in the field of profits. usual open-air stalls. in the “brindle rents are comparatively high; taxes and cow," the local hostelry, are gathered at rates, a long list-including such headings, dinner a score or more of local worthies and of course, as highways, education, lighting farmers from round-about gossiping of com and police-add to the burden; labor and ing auctions and after the grog, which machinery and first costs begin the farmer's is always part of the two-shilling dinner year; there are auctioneers, the regularly ---of local personalities and small talk and constituted middleman between farmer and the little scandals that agitate the minds market, to exact the four pence (eight of these thrifty and honest people. the cents) in the pound when market day company is presided over by the popular comes, and in free competition against him auctioneer, who is many other things as are the farmers of the world. but the well, and who punctuates the remarks of grumbles prosper, and hodges, with his his associates with a genial "well done,” hard-working frugal life, has money in the or “no doubt.” and they, in the flush bank. of uttering unusually long sentences, rejoice it is a long “step up" to hillscott, and in his approval. near him is one timothy by the time i reach the fields the men are grumble, a boyish, kindly man of seventy, snatching a hurried “tea.” clouds are with friendly eyes and a gray beard. the racing across the sky and hodges says the grumbles have occupied their farm on the rain is coming rapidly. there are still road to hillscott for three or four centuries. long lines of sheaves to be gathered and it was leased many generations ago by a made snug before the downpour comes. grumble, the lease running, according to shep, who has been refused a place at his the old system, for a certain number of master's feet, is wandering disconsolately “lives." timothy grumble's father's life up and down the wall. suddenly he makes was the last one of the number, and when a wild leap and half disappears in the hedge, he died the four hundred acres, which only to reappear with a smooth, gray, many grumbles had toiled over and im wriggling prize in his mouth. hodges is proved, were sold. the man who owns up instantly; the rabbit is put out of his hillscott bought them and immediately agony and then into hodges' spacious rented them to the remaining grumbles, pocket. shep, who is something of a gen- an evidence of the tact and judgment and eral, seems to have created this diversion good feeling of most of the devon land for a purpose, for while hodges talks of lords. the last grumble of the old lease rabbits, the wise dog chooses a portion of had a family of nine children, of whom six hodges' food and retires unnoticed to a are still alive, all of them installed in the far end of the field. old place, three old bachelors and three old hodges, in common with neighboring maids, the youngest being sixty-three, sur farmers, wages an endless war against rounded by their well-tilled land and flocks rabbits and is always beaten. from al- and herds, their gardens and orchards and most any path you can see dozens, fifties flowers. their house is a haven of peace and hundreds of the plundering little and kindliness. beasts bouncing along, and their ranks, in spite of their bountiful crops, old thinned by an afternoon's shooting, are timothy tells me as we journey homeward full once more the following morning. in the mid afternoon, in spite of the good- every wall shelters their holes, and every sized dairy, and the market gardens, and field is a scene of their marauding expedi- the prize potatoes of the upland field, and tions. the ducks and chickens that deaf and dumb the men return to their work with re- the outing magazine newed energy. from down in the valley white driftwood on a dusky sea — and echoes the huntsman's horn, and now the joins the boy jeemes for the night's milk- chase leaps into view, glints of bobbing red ing. ing. and now, as if they had been waiting against the green. billy shrimpton, who for him to get under cover, the skies open is working on the new ricks now, is re and the deluge begins. minded of the famous ride of one captain dinner is cooking over the faggot fire cummin of the —th hussars. the chase in the great hearth of the clean-swept began, billy says, at the left of the far kitchen, and soon it is served on the long away ridge that borders the horizon. up table. when the meal is over, pipes ap- hill and down dale it went, until one after pear and we sit before the warm embers, another the hunting party fell by the way. for the rain has brought a chill with it. captain cummin rode in the van from the "weather's brekin' up," says hodges. start. he lost the master and he lost the “the zummer's nearly auver.” whip, and when at last, after twenty-four there follow slow, maundering tales of miles of hard going, he brought away the horse thieves on the moor; of the blinding brush, he was alone with a few exhausted moor mists in which hodges was once lost hounds. that ride is famous in devon for two days and nights; of a mysterious shire, and after some particularly fine hunt wandering dog that killed sheep from every people will say it reminds them of captain fold in the neighborhood, that seemed to cummin of the —th hussars and his ride leave no tracks, and that was killed one day on “black bess.” after a bloody fight with shep, a fight con- the sky grows black. carts clatter cerning which hodges knew nothing until recklessly over the stubble. the steady shep limped home, bitten and blood-stained swing of the fork has been forgotten and and victorious. has given way to frantic haste. sweat when nine o'clock strikes hodges asks for stands out on hodges' wrinkled face as he his candle and stumps off to bed. sally is rushes to and fro, giving a hand here, locking up, and from the other room i can ordering there, watching the relentless sky hear the refrain of one of her favorite songs: grow darker and darker. at last the first "my daddy's a gentleman. he's dressed fine. warning drops patter on billy shrimpton's my daddy don't go to work at half-past thatch, the last loads come rattling up and nine.' are covered, and the men come in through and soon the silence is broken only by the dripping dusk, gladdened with the the steady rush of the rain and the hum of brisk fight against time and weather. the wind in the evergreens. one day out “'tis the last o't, 's the cobblers zay,” of the year has gone, but the others will be remarks hodges, and he strides away to as full of work. and probably this is one ward the lower fields. there, with shep reason why hodges is seventy-five and and shot, he rounds up the sheep-bobbing still young shep brings in the sheep. queen titania and prince charming of asbury park by charles belmont davis i " us. t is a pretty far cry from new orleans, to fairyland. till then your queen sends you louisiana, to asbury park, new jer- greetings and best wishes.” sey, and the two towns are just about as distant in their social permanency and between the crowning of the queen and inclination as in their geographical situa the carnival de venice there is a court tion. but in their love for carnivals they ball-“flowers, palms, good music and the are not divided. new orleans is largely entire assemblage in full evening costume” french, generally hot and always redolent -a street carnival and a masked ball, a with pungent odors, full of picturesque fireman's parade and the most important semi-decayed brick and wooden buildings, event of all—the baby parade. and rich in those restaurants where the it seemed to me that of all these func- garlic is not spared and the wine runs heavy tions the carnival should be at its very best and red. asbury park, new jersey, dif about the time of the baby parade and the fers from the other summer resorts of the street carnival and masked ball— "the great bath-house state only in that it is a day when the fun king reigns, the day when trifle larger than its rivals. this town of the city will be en masque and the people hotels and boarding-houses and this com will disport themselves most merrily.” at munity of vacationists end the season in a least that is what the program promised carnival which is unquestionably found when i left new york the sky was ed on the annual affair which has made dark with heavy clouds and the air was new orleans famous. hot and lifeless. but by the time the train the carnival begins on a monday night pulled into asbury park there were a few with the crowning of the queen, and, patches of blue in the sky, and a damp as the official program says, “is in accord breeze—so damp as to be almost a drizzle with the best practice of imperial courts.” blew in from the gray ocean. surely car- the festivities close on friday with a “car nivals and country weddings are too de- nival de venice on deal lake, and to pendent on fickle skies! further quote from the program, which the actual scene of the fête extended is for sale at all hotels for one dime, and in along the beach between two pavilions- this instance from the very words of queen the casino and the arcade-which are con- titania herself: nected by a very broad board-walk about a quarter of a mile in length. it was on “the tricksy pomp of fairy pride fades with this board-walk and at the two pavilions the dying day, and the genius of man shines bright as the electrics which he flings to the that fun was supposed to run riot before breeze to rival the stars. music will make glad and after the maskers had been reviewed the ear, and hidden genii will bombard the heav by the queen. this official procession and ens to ravish the eye. upon a pearly throne in review took place on ocean avenue, which a purple musselshell will be the floating court of titania. sweet as the virgin kiss of maiden is a broad roadway running parallel to love, the gentlest winds of heaven shall blow the board-walk and about a hundred feet on land-locked lake and surging free-born sea farther inland. that part of ocean ave- till the star-jeweled night is far spent. then nue which was to be devoted to the pro- ere aurora rolls forth her chariot of light, and the eyes of mortals begin to part their fringes of cession was strung with electric lights, gold, oberon shall summon his consort back placed at most unneighborly distances to . photograph by brown bros. + "when the fun king reigns and the people disport themselves most merrily." photograph by edwin levick. "she came in a golden shell, dressed in her regal robes. queen titania and prince charming of asbury park each other and flickering but dimly under sweet?” the latter remark was evidently the clouded skies. the electric globes intended for the queen's official escort, who were a little more prevalent about the must annually stagger under the name of court of honor and the display of ameri prince charming. the queen and prince can flags was most generous, but on the charming, having alighted from the auto- whole the decoration was of that kind mobile, slowly ascended the throne steps. which looks bedraggled by day but the the prince appeared a little nervous, but committee hopes will be all right at night. the queen bowed gracefully and often to the queen's reviewing stand consisted of a few enthusiasts who sat in the grand- a fairly large platform, painted white, and stand and applauded wildly. surmounted by a semicircle of white pil "wow," said my white-coated neighbor, lars. it was easily evident that the gen “the queen's got cousins in the grand- eral effect was intended to be greek. this stand.” stand was flanked by two others, white, indeed, there seemed to exist a strong too, but more modest in their architectural disposition on the part of her subjects to scheme. they were to be given over to belittle the true worth of their queen. to distinguished guests and representatives me she looked a very nice sort of person, of the press. across the road from the with a handsome rather than a pretty face, royal stands there was a temporary grand a good figure and a presence quite as gra- stand, to which the public was admitted cious as those of some of the regular queens for a modest fee. i have seen on the other side of the water. at last from a distance we could hear the her hair was heavily “marceled,” and it faint strains of music, and we saw a great did not appear to me that she was over- crowd of people hurrying on to the court dressed for the part. she wore a white, of honor. the grand-stand began to fill filmy dress, much decorated with gold up, and out of the darkness there rose up braid, and a long silk mantle with ermine hundreds and hundreds of girls in covert trimming. her jewels seemed to consist of coats who banked themselves in many a pearl necklace--real or unreal i really rows behind the fence which surrounded don't know, but concerning the baubles in the court of honor. i found a good stand her crown and scepter, there could be no ing place just back of the throne, where i doubt whatever. they were of the quality was joined by two ladies in full white duck and size usually lying about in the fairy who, a little more daring than their sisters, grotto of a christmas pantomime. the had jumped the fence in their desire to get royal head-piece was lined with mustard- a close view of queen titania. through colored canton flannel, which seemed to me the crowd there appeared a young man a mistake at the time. this may be hyper- dressed in a louis xvi costume, with a critical, but all the professional crowns i cornet held firmly in both hands. he as had previously met favored some shade of cended the steps leading to the throne and red, and the mustard-colored novelty was blew several fearful blasts, whereat there a slight shock. was a sudden parting in the mob at the end on the left of the queen stood prince of the court of honor, and a station wagon charmirig, officially known as “the con- drawn by two horses and a linen-covered sort,” but always referred to by my gum- automobile appeared. it was quite evi- chewing, white-coated fellow onlookers as dent that the royal party had arrived. “the guy with the plumes” or “the hick the station wagon contained three young with the boy's pants." he wore a gray men in dinner coats and the ten ladies-in silk suit of the period of louis xiv and a waiting. the young men hurriedly ar mantle whereon royalty was stamped by a ranged the chairs strewn about the stand, narrow band of ermine. his hat was large and then ran down the steps to help the and spreading and as full of plumes as a queen out of the automobile with the linen california ostrich farm; the trousers were a trifle short, but the knee joints were cov- “gee, allie,” said the white-coated girl ered by a long silver fringe, which extended who stood next to me, “but that's a shine well down over gray silk stockings. a pair rig for a queen. and for heaven's sake, of modern patent leather shoes and gray pipe the guy with the plumes. ain't he kid gloves completed the outfit. his hair cover. the outing magazine out of his eye or point out one of his friends to the queen, up would shoot the sleeves and show a great stretch of bare arm between the cuff and the kid glove which was filled to the bursting point. from my point of view, the queen and prince were certainly an ill-mated pair. nothing he said seemed to please her-in fact, her indifference, not to say absolute frigidity, was most marked, and i think he felt it. the prince did the only thing pos- sible and assumed an air and pose of ab- solute authority with his queen. he put his arm about her chair and leaned heavily on the arm of the throne. it took the royal party some time to get satisfactorily settled. indeed, the merry crowd of maskers, preceded by a stirring brass band, was almost upon them before they had properly greeted their subjects. it was just about this time that we at the court of honor discovered who was the real hero of the fête. queen titania and prince charming were lost in the wave of applause that greeted the real rex of the carnival. he was a young man with light hair and he was dressed in a dark blue suit with black braid and he wore very white kid gloves, and his name, which was “arthur," was shouted aloud by many thousands of throats until the word echoed back and forth between the sand dunes and “in the shade of the old apple tree." had evidently been cut for the occasion, and the rear design had all the grace and severity of a formal english garden. the whole trouble was unquestionably due to the kid gloves. they were so tight that the fingers of the prince had the rigidity of those on the plaster model of a palmist, and again, they were so short that several inches of bare wrist showed between the gloves and the sleeves of the tunic. it was too bad, for it really seemed to add greatly to the prince's con- sciousness. he con- stantly tried to pull down his mantle so that there might be a little more of the gray trousers con- cealed, and then every time he raised his hand to pull a plume baby becomes nurse-maid. queen titania and prince charming of asbury park went booming over the roughened waters of the atlantic. and this was just as it should have been, for “arthur” was the leader of the band. until the moment of his approach the crowd had remained with stoical indif- ference behind the barriers which sepa- rated it from the avenue devoted to the maskers; but as the band swung into the court of honor, complete pandemonium, as well as all the fence rails in sight, broke loose, and a great wave of thousands of dark figures seemed to have suddenly bro- ken on the beach and poured itself into the maskers' highway and the court of honor. the crowd forced itself into the ranks of the marching maskers and the procession was suddenly turned into an uncontrolled mass of black coats, white shirtwaists, indians, chinese, cow-boys, clowns, rough-riders, geisha girls, gypsies, sailor-men and imitation natives in the costumes of every known land and of every color under the sun. for a moment i think the queen became just a little ter- rified at this human kaleidoscope that whirled before her, but the prince stuck closer than ever to the arm of the throne "only a little pink undershirt and called itself cupid." and tried to console his consort by con- demning the management in resounding foolish clowns and spanish girls tried to words, and occasionally howling a greeting dance before her and were upset for their to one of his friends in the mass that surged trouble; two geishas sat at her feet on at her feet. the lower steps of the throne, until they were ignominiously hustled off by the three managers in the dress suits; an old lady with white hair and a widow's bon- net was led in front of her bowing gracious- ly, and a nursery maid hustled a small child through the crowd that she might have a close look at a real asbury queen. while the clowns and the indians and the spaniards were still dancing at the feet of their queen, how- ever, the automobile suddenly pushed it- self through the black the baby-carriage is transformed into an "auto.” mass of loyal subjects queen titania and prince charming of asbury park and as quickly disappeared, carrying away dozen small children were romping on the titania and prince charming under its floor, and as many more were rolling down linen cover. the steps of the queen's stand. a gentle- this function having been disposed of, man in white duck trousers, a black sweater the crowd betook itself to the board-walk and a yachting cap, with a cigar in his and to the dances which are given at the mouth and an umbrella under his arm, arcade, the casino and all of the larger stood in the center of the room looking hotels. according to the official program gloomily up at the half-filled galleries and given out by the queen herself, this is the wholly deserted band-stand. it is what really should have happened: possible that another of those official prom- ises of titania might have occurred to him let the witch fires glow upon the sands, for as forcibly as it did to me: ere the firefly's spark begins to glimmer and glow upon the amorous bosom of night, a parade of “a reception to the new ruler of this realm fire-fighters in the national playground of as of revelry. while mortals dance and the ama- bury park will have come and gone. when the tory fires of man and maiden are enkindled, new moon hangs its crescent in the darkening fairies shall hang upon the horizon's rim and sky, a golden horn of plenty, puck, thou elfin slide down the moon's lengthened ray till the sprite, shall combine forces with my court jester. sentry songster shall pipe: midnight and all's banish care from the land, wing comfort into well.' the bruised heart and enkindle the fire of hope in the despairing breast. this night we make in a short time, however, the arcade merry with clown and harlequin, so trouble me brightened up considerably. a pair of with no cares of state. to-night all good charms shall be potent, and the spells of unamiable amateur dutch comedians and a very mild witches shall not prevail. order guardians of imitation of a “midway” dancer came in the peace to wink at all levity. let every heel and partially succeeded in amusing the be as light as a champagne cork and let all ribs crowd in the gallery and were wholly suc- be tickled by the spirit of revelry. chide not the wanton breeze, for this night the face of nature cessful in clearing the floor of the lolling as well as of man shall ripple with laughter.” children. new guests gradually arrived, and by nine o'clock there was a good- i really do not know how amorous was ly sprinkling of cow-punchers, greasers, the bosom of night, but i know that the george washingtons, indians. theodore night as a whole was cold and damp, and roosevelts, pantaloons, red cross nurses, if complete absence was tantamount to rough-riders, dudes, geishas, fencing girls, winking at all levity, then the guardians hoboes, milk-maids, and many, many of the peace understood their orders well, princes of the time of louis xiv. for i did not see one of them during my at nine o'clock “arthur” waved his entire stay at asbury park. baton, the band reluctantly laid aside their the arcade, where i was assured i would cigars and cigarettes and the first waltz. find the carnival at its height, is a large, it was not much of a waltz, be- bare dancing hall, the far end of which is cause the floor had become rather crowded built out over the ocean. the pavilion and many of those who had come to look consists of one circular room with a deep on constantly pushed their way through balcony running around the greater part the mass of dancing couples. many car- of it, and porches extend from the ground ried umbrellas and more smoked bad cigars. noor well over the water. “arthur” and there was a good sale of confetti at five his band occupied a stand in the center of cents a bag, and one man started to dis- the hall, and compared to the electrical tribute colored ribbons of paper, but he display at the court of honor, the interior soon had to stop, in order to escape the of the arcade might have been regarded onslaught of the merry-makers. the wom- as a perfect blaze of light. the only furni en did not seem to care to make individ- ture was a stand of rough wooden boards at ual hits and as a result there were usually one end of the room, which the queen was four trained nurses or six lady-fencers al- supposed to occupy in case she visited the ways wandering around together. if a man fête. at the moment of my arrival the dared speak to a girl masker who threw scene was painfully reminiscent of a sum confetti in his face, his salutation, however mer hotel ball-room on a sat ay night, genial and harmless, was regarded as an just before the dancing sets in. half a insult and the girl flew to her mother or a was on. queen titania and prince charming of asbury park gentleman friend for protection. the flir the queen and her court and from the same tation, or, as the official program of the point, but the night had wrought many asbury park carnival described it, "the changes. the flags did not hang damp amatory fires of man and maiden,” was and forlorn, but fluttered sharply in the wholly lacking, and as i understand it, breeze, and the court of honor was no flirtation, mild or otherwise, is the essence longer dimly lit by lines of pale electric of the true carnival. globes, but was aglow with the orange sun- it was only a very small part of the crowd shine of the summer day. the overcoats that could find breathing space in the ar- . and wraps and the frayed, musty costumes cade or at the various hotel ball-rooms, and of the night before had been put away, and therefore it overflowed on the board-walk in their place there were thousands of white and literally packed that thoroughfare for dresses and hats of as many colors as the at least a quarter of a mile. it pushed and fairest rainbow ever boasted. hundreds wriggled itself along the all too narrow and hundreds of little children, dressed in confines of the promenade, blew tin horns, all their summer bravery, fairly swarmed waved flags, twirled rattles, laughed and along the roads leading to the avenue where sang uproariously. it was a dark night, the parade was to take place, and they and the crowd, although of necessity sober, and their nurses and their mothers filled to seemed to lack the friendly spirit of carni- overflowing the grand-stand and the small val time. it must have taken me at least stands of the court of honor long before half an hour to be carried as an uncon the fateful hour had arrived. it seemed trolled atom for about one hundred feet as if the children somehow gave a dignity along the board-walk. at my side there to the theater of the fête. was a young woman dressed in a norfolk the children who were to take part in jacket and men's knickerbockers. she the procession were first gathered together was a rather plump, large lady and her es in a large pavilion just beyond the queen's cort was a very small person with eye- reviewing stand, and were here given a glasses and short black side-whiskers. i place in one of the nine sections into which don't know whether it was the geniality of the parade was divided. the pavilion the lady's mood or the escort's lack of it, consisted of one very large room, but large but i believe every man that passed by as it was, it was hardly capable of holding gave the lady a more or less slight dig in five hundred babies, most of them in their the ribs. the lady, as a lady naturally own private conveyances and surrounded should, squealed aloud at every dig, and by the nurse, mother and many admiring the small man who was with her at once female relations. started in to fight, which was difficult, as there were girl babies and boy babies- his arms were usually pinned to his sides babies not yet a year old, and almost grown- by the crowd. at the end of the half hour, up babies of quite ten years of age. a few during which i accompanied them for the slept, but many more cried, and for the hundred feet stroll on the board-walk, the most part they seemed thoroughly out of young man had lost his glasses, and his patience with their strange costumes and hat was broken. the girl was still trying their flower-bedecked carriages, and this, bravely to smile the smile of the joyous too, long before the procession had started. carnival, but she was sadly disheveled. the mothers and nurses and relatives stood the next day a fresh breeze blew in from about and put the finishing touches on the sea and cleared the sky and the air, and their charges, and it did not make any dif- sent the confetti and the debris of the night ference whether the child wore only a little previous scurrying through the streets of pink undershirt and called itself “cupid,” the village and far over the dunes, and left or was the central figure of a very beautiful the sandy avenues clean and glistening and expensive float; the mothers and the white in the morning sun. the very skies nurses and the female relatives beamed which had frowned on and even wept over with pride and received congratulations the merry-making olympians the night be with the broadest smiles of keen delight. fore, seemed to conspire in favor of the at the appointed hour a cannon boomed babies and their parade. the procession, out from the other end of the town, and this like its predecessor, was to be reviewed by meant that queen titania and her suite the outing magazine had started for the court of honor. she who lived in a shoe,” and “the sweet came in a golden shell, dressed in her regal girl graduate,” and “ brown-eyed susan," robes, and the great banks of people on and a diminutive roosevelt in a rough- the stands were just as enthusiastic as rider suit, and many, many nurses and they had been the night before and just as clowns, organ-grinders, fairies, an enormous much more enthusiastic at the approach lily and two little tots in a floral canoe. of "arthur.” cinderella was there in a and besides these a little girl had a gown simple white dress, and prince charming which looked like an apple, and over her wearily resumed his place at titania's left. head she held a parasol which was made the gray louis xiv suit looked pretty of the limb of an apple tree and she called much as it had the night before, but the herself “in the shade of the old apple kid gloves had been unable to withstand tree,” but perhaps the best of all was the the strain and had broken out in many child who rode a large butterfly. those places. but titania and prince charming who made the butterfly said it was com- and the ladies-in-waiting were given small posed of five thousand pink and white "heed, for they were no sooner seated than paper flowers, and they should know, but in the children marched out of the pavilion and any case the judges thought so well of it down toward the court of honor. none of that they gave it the grand prize. them slept now, and the tears were all dried the children bowed and smiled from the long before the parade reached the queen. carriages to titania, and titania bowed the conveyances themselves were prac back, and those who had no carriages tically small floats, and in most instances danced at their nurse's side and blew kisses were built upon a baby carriage as the to the queen and to the applauding banks foundation. in many cases the carriages of men and women which lined both sides were trimmed to represent a huge flower, of the avenue. fifty thousand men and in the center of which the baby head ap women came to see those babies parade, peared; but in some instances the floats and that is more people than any horse- were of a much more ambitious character, race, football game or baseball match can and showed whole kitchens or village forges possibly attract in this country. all of with a number of children dressed as cooks which leads one to believe that the dis- or blacksmiths. a number of the little positions of the people of new jersey and tots dressed in fancy costumes had no con vicinity are more adapted to running baby veyance, but walked at their nurse's side er parades than in arranging masked balls rode small bicycles, and there were many and fêtes, especially at a prohibition resort more whose carriages were trimmed very and when the fête is officially announced simply but very beautifully with natural as one of the kind to “enkindle the amorous flowers. there was “the old woman fires of man and maiden." the orientalizing of budge by w. a. fraser drawing by sydney adamson l arry budge had the chest corpu and budge, with the water of envy in lency of a japanese wrestler; the his soul, looked at the sleek, greasy baboo, same thick, short neck, and the who sat in rich complacency, and carried same scantiness of forehead. no scars of a belaying-pin on his shaven when budge left liverpool as ship's head, nor were labor corns in the palms of carpenter in the tramp steamer andromeda, his slim hands. and all up and down the all these parts were in good working order; bazar were shops that held opulent men when he landed in phrang, burma, he who seemingly neither toiled nor spun; said: “wot bloomin' chanst 'ave i got ? and the street was gorgeous with the gay- look at me; i orter go into dry-dock in the colored raiment of laughing idlers, who orspital. if that pirate fust orficer 'adn't smoked big cheroots, and ate cakes of broke 'is arm i'd a been murdered." ghee and sugar. in truth but for the officer's accident, “this is bloomin' luxury, i calls it,” it is safe to say “chips” would have been budge whispered to himself; and ikki, belaying-pinned out of existence. speaking through the baboo's even, white “i ain't goin' back in this 'ere coffin teeth, said aloud: "ha, sahib, will huzoor box,” budge swore softly, leaning over the drink a beer sharab in my honor?” rail of the steamer as she swung to a black budge opened his little eyes, that were iron buoy in the swirling, coffee-colored like a bulldog's, in astonishment. would waters that cheroghea river vomited into he drink a bottle of beer! my word! a the bay. bloomin' dozen wouldn't drown the drought he watched with envy the half-caste of his great desire. he laughed till the clerk that sat beneath a big paper um metal gong rang with the strength of his brella on acargo boat, tolling the bags of rice. lungs. “nobody don't work an' git their 'eads budge quaffed the beer, while chunder smashed in this country but niggers,” he ghose chewed pan supari, which is areca mused. nut and lime and cloves and divers other then he went ashore in a sampan, and condiments held in a pan leaf, and spat the tramped up a broad metaled road, be vermillion-colored juice voluminously be- tween great spreading banyan trees that yond the threshold of his shop. threw a cool shade, and ikki, the god of “is huzoor a captain sahib?" queried chance, guided his huge feet to the shop ghose: which was most gratuitous flattery, of baboo chunder ghose. for he knew quite well that budge was chunder ghose was a bengali, which is carpenter on the andromeda. the ba- another name for avarice and duplicity. boo's furtive eye had seen “chips” toiling ghose looked at the huge chest of the like a young elephant at a damaged crane englishman, and the power of his square during one of his trading trips to the jaw, and thought how these things would steamer. make unwilling coolies work in the teak “me th' bloomin' skipper?" and again jungles of cheroghea. this also was ikki, chips laughed till things fell from the who sat screened behind a metal gong that shelves. swung from the hand of a leering wooden “sahib should live in phrang,"continued goddess—“kali," the consort of siva, the the baboo; "he would become a great destroyer man.” the outing magazine "ow's that?" queried budge; "wot bloomin' chanst 'd l 'ave? i don't sabe the bbat (language); but i'm jolly well sick of workin' an' gittin' me 'ead 'ammered when the skipper's took too much o' the drink.” “huzoor is receive assault and batter? huh! that is not according to magna charta. englishman is not coolie; it is not proper ruling of judicial when a sahib is prosecuted with club." budge nodded his heavy head, and gulped the last of the beer. chunder's baboo english was nebulous-grandilo- quent; but the trend of it fitted in with the carpenter's rebellious mood. he epit- omized the baboo's declamation in crys- tallized english. what he answered was: “they're a bloody lot o' swine on that tramp steamer -skipper, fust mate, an’ bosun; black- ’earted pirates, i tell yer, mr. rajah, an' i ain't goin' back in 'er. i've 'ad enough.” there was another bottle of beer; and there was talk that only ikki, the god of opportunity, heard; talk of building a saw-mill up cheroghea river, in the for- est of the aracan yomas. and presently budge, possessed of a glorious future and bazar beer, went back in a sampan to the steamer, and laid plans for deserting. and in a week, when desilva, the por- tuguese pilot, just managed to squeeze the andromeda, whose white-circled plim- soll was deep awash, over the turbulent harbor bar, she was guiltless of a “chips.” the skipper didn't know this; the first mate didn't know it-not till the pilot had dropped to his cockleshell craft, and sped away home for phrang. then it was too late; for the southwest monsoons, sullen and strong, were torturing the bay of bengal into an ocean of discontent, and to return meant more than the recovery of a dozen "chips." larry budge crawled from his hiding in the baboo's godown, washed himself clear of his seafaring life with a bottle of beer, and took up the burden of the anglo- indian. like a true, colonizing englishman he noticed that phrang was entirely guiltless of hotels, “not a drink 'ouse in the place,” he muttered as he explored the station. there was the gymkhana club of the europeans; the government dak bungalow where travelers could find poorly furnished quarters; the native bottle shops in the bazar; but not a “pub.” this weighed on budge's mind. saw- mills and jungle trees were all very fine, but a tidy hotel was finer still. he thought it all out in his own slow, heavy way; a billiard table; perhaps bowls; little tables in the veranda to sit at and lush: why, he'd make a fortune from the skippers and crews of the rice steamers alone! however, chunder ghose's idea was lum- ber and government contracts, with the big fighting englishman to look after the work, while he handled the rupees. so budge went up the cheroghea, and looked at the jungle. then he cursed it with greater vehemence than he had the skipper, and the first mate, and the an- dromeda. when he had sworn himself into a think- ing mood, he wrought into a plan. of himself it might never have come, this idea that was too old to be brilliant; but mee- mah, who was a burmese woman, and was cleverer than forty slow-witted men of huge bulk, had traded in rice and in salt. meemah took kindly to budge's idea of life in a bungalow in phrang. she would be a memsahib all the bazar people would call her ‘memsahib” when she bought supplies for the hotel. now, honors were easy, for baboo ghose was to play against the bulldog intenseness of the navy-like englishman and the subtle wisdom of meemah. so baboo ghose's rupees went up the cheroghea in a dribbling stream till the bengali was sore of heart; and down to the village of phrang messengers brought wondrous epistles, and reports of progress and timber, that was like the budget of a russian finance minister. it was an international alliance, offensive and defensive. the englishman couldn't have managed it without meemah, for te was deficient in brains, and meemah would have failed for lack of courage; but allied, the baboo was overmatched. and in in- dia to outgeneral a bengali baboo is con- sidered a creditable affair. “wot right 'ad the bloomin' baboo to get me to desert from a good ship, an' come up 'ere to this blarsted jungle?--that's wot i arsks 'im." budge questioned with righteous indignation. “e's worse 'n a the outing magazine jew. i don't call it fair play, nohow. 'e sahib, and they drink gin together spins a yarn as 'ow i'll be a bloomin' always.” rajah up 'ere. my word! i'd rather lay in the jungle budge had been careless of in me bunk on a cardiff collier with me his attire; now, as master of the aracan 'ead split hopen from a belayin'-pin.” hotel, he wore clean white trousers and a and meemah would make a sherbet cotton guernsey; toward evening, if there from wild plums and limes, and give it to were skippers in the "pub,” he donned a t'e sahib to drink, and say: “thakine, o coat. the legal entanglement gave hiza thakine, if the black foreigner who is not solemnity. all day long he discussed the of your people, nor of my people, makes suit with forceful animadversion upon the evil words against the thakine and mee ancestral origin of baboo ghose. mah, the thakine will stretch out his big "wot bloomin' right 'as that soor of a hand, that is as strong as the trunk of an baboo to instigate me to desert as good a elephant, and cause the baboo to cry like skipper as ever boxed a compass.—that's a dog." wot | arsks, gentlemen. it's agin the "i'll jolly well smash 'is 'ead if 'e comes bloomin' law-'e's a seducer of honest men, swingin' any bazar lies at me an’ mine!" that's wot 'e is. if i 'ad 'im out ’amp- “and from the silver that has come, stead w'y, in ole lunnon, i'd settle 'is thakine, we will give to lahbo five rupees, bloomin' tucker-i'd punch the belly off'n and to the manjee and the coolies a great 'im. but 'ere, in this blarsted country, a eating of rice; then they will all say that white man ain't got no chanst. 'e'd swear you are a great boh "(captain),” and also: me life aw'y—a honest man ain't got no that the baboo is the descendant of jungle chanst along o’ them niggers.” animals.". budge would bring his big fist down on so baboo ghose got reports in kind, the table and swear strange oaths that are reports that would lead to the continuance fashionable in billingsgate. of good food. and the rupees that were "i'll give the soor 'is bellyfull o’law- needed for the improvement of phrang in blowed if i don't.” the way of a “pub” were wrung from the in the evening desouza the vakil, and unsuspicious man of avarice. mcbean, the scotch half-caste deputy as- then one day the silver stream ceased sistant magistrate, came after court hours to flow. it was another woman who was and sat at a table in a back room of the envious of meemah that said things-true “pub.” budge put a bottle of holland things to baboo ghose. gin and two glasses between them; and when there is trouble in the affairs of the unrighteous duplicity of baboo ghose the bengali baboo he always flies to the bred denunciation that dried the square courts. so, when chunder ghose saw that black ſlagon to the last drop. most of the lumber was a myth, he rushed “you are too honest man, budge sa- into law. perhaps this was wise, for hib,” the vakil said, as the crystal-clear. budge's gorilla chest and square jaw were liquor, with its hidden fire, warmed his more formidable than rulings, and find flaccid imagination. ings, and pleader's fees. “that's my w'y of doin' business; thiev- and chips” budge and meemah came in' never prospered," the virtuous "chips down to phrang; and meemah, out of her replied. own money, that had once been the ba the magistrate nodded his head approv- boo's, bought a bungalow.on harbor road, ingly at this noble expression of sentiment. and furniture, and a billiard table from “huh, judge sahib, you hear that? calcutta; and budge got a license, and the this poor man, my client, he is to be "pub" the englishman had dreamed of robbed by a bengali." had eventuated. "very wrong! the courts are to pro- then because of this law-thing, budge tect the weak," the magistrate remarked. engaged desouza, a half-caste pleader. “ah, man, never before in phrang could this was because meemah said: “the we get gin like this—it is good for the thakine will take desouza the vakil to kidneys.” arrange, the law on our side, for he is a “because budge sahib is honest man," friend of the assistant magistrate, mcbean declared desouza; “but chunder ghose the orientalizing of budge will put any cheap thing in the bottles- “i am a poor man, your honor," declared he is a rascal.” baboo ghose; “i am subject of queen "you have a strong case, budge sahib,” victoria.” quoth mcbean. “mind, man, i am not on “baboo ghose is honest man,” declared the bench now, this opinion is sub judice.” vakil mullick, “always giving to the poor "eh! wot's that?" asked budge, “wot many rup es. but budge sahib is coolie do it mean?" caste of english, telling plenty lies, and “i am speaking friend to friend,” said stealing fifty thousand rupee from baboo judge mcbean. ghose. but baboo ghose is kind heart, ‘budge sahib knows that, judge,” ex he is plaintiff for only two thousand in plained desouza. “he is an honest man; the court of your honor, which is always all he wants is to win his case, because the dispensing justice and equity to the poor baboo is a rascal.” mans like my client.” “ 'e's a bloomin' swine-'e orter be 'ad “man, you've got a strong case, baboo," up, judge, fer makin' me desert.” affirmed mcbean. “he was an accomplice before the fact, “huzoor, i am a poor man, your honor, budge sahib,” declared mcbean. not knowing jurisprudence; only according 'eh! 'e's worse, judge'e's a swine. to law of great britain and the empress there i was, carpenter of as good a ship as wanting to win case because of that rascal, ever floated, along o' a skipper as sez to budge sahib.” me, sez 'e: chips, you 'elps yerself in th’ a week later, as mcbean and desouza bloomin' slop chest, an' the ship’s purser again sat in the aracan hotel, the vakil don't chalk up nothink agin yer score, said: “my client's case is called for to- see?' that's wot 'e sez to me. an' to morrow, judge; but see, budge sahib is think as 'ow i deserted all along o' this sick-he cannot attend.” bloomin' baboo as now wants to take the budge opened his eyes at this statement; bread outen my mouth. 'tain't british but the vakil winked at him, and the fair play—i calls it bloomin' robbery." englishman affirmed: "i was took last budge sahib is an honest man," de night something orful-pains 'ere as i clared the vakil. couldn't rest,” and the publican rubbed a "you've got a strong case, man,” af fat hand over his large paunch. firmed mcbean. “cholera!” declared the judge; “you desouza tipped the square bottle over are sick man, as i can see.” the d. a. m.'s glass, but not a murmur of * bloomin' orful!" gurgling gin sounded from its nozzle. the “they will want to cross-examine you, magistrate put a hand over his glass budge sahib,” said the judge. deprecatingly—“no more, vakil sahib," “i'll tell 'em somethink—the heathen he cried. swine. i'll tell 'em as ’ow they tried to rob “call a gharry, budge sahib,” desouza me an' mine." said; “we must go. give the gharry man "see, judge, budge sahib is honest man: eight annas, budge sahib— i forgot to put he will speak true he will tell the court any money in my pocket,” he added, as he that baboo ghose is rascal. but if budge followed the other worthy man of law into sahib is sick he can't go; but that is the vehicle. nothing,” declared the vakil. “baboo it was a fattening suit; a case not to be ghose has got no case; we will throw the disposed of at one sitting; and there were suit out, eh, judge?” many days of this order. baboo ghose was "sure. if budge sahib's case is too clamorous for quick action. he stated his strong, then baboo ghose will not get view of the situation after the manner of his judgment." kind, verbosely, and with reckless bravado. budge groaned and put his hand across in truth, as it happened, the same his stomach. “these gripes is somethink worthy judge sat in the baboo's inner orful, judge.” then he went and lay chamber with the baboo's vakil, mullick down, and the two men of law drove sen, and a heavy-shouldered, square black away. bottle marked “dekupper” stood like a and the next day baboo ghose brought solemn landmark on the table at his elbow. his suit on, and produced in court a promis- the rover bards you are too honest, budge sahib; you “he is too honest," said the vakil. didn't know what rascal this baboo ghose budge pondered. not having given the is. when the note was due you paid it.” note, he had never paid it, neither had he "-" any receipt. it seemed, as mcbean said, “of course you paid when it was due," a very strong case--all but the little dis- interrupted the vakil, “and you took crepancy of having no receipt. receipt.” “you must look all through baboo budge stared aghast. ghose's letters, budge sahib, and find that “but you are honest man, and you receipt,” continued the vakil. he was didn't think baboo ghose would swear the speaking, as it might be said, with one eye note was not paid.” open. ah, the letters! there would be "'e's a blawsted perjurer! 'e'd swear the signature of baboo ghose to them be- anythink.” yond doubt. yes, he would find the "i have told the judge sahib that you receipt now. meemah would, at any rate, got receipt when you paid that note. and for her cousin, phobah, who was a clerk in now we must appeal. judge mcbean is the post-office, was a fine penman. and acting magistrate of the first class, because as to the witnesses-well, there again was deputy commissioner is gone on tour, so meemah to be depended upon. the case will come before him again. he so when the suit was next heard ba- knows you are honest man, budge sahib, boo ghose's forged note was met with a and that baboo ghose is rascal, so you forged receipt, and his witnesses were of must find that receipt you got from baboo no avail, for budge had not denied the ghose. and you have witness, too. mee note. mah's brother, lahbo, he was there that and the defendant's witnesses swore time when you paid baboo ghose-you with steady persistency to the payment of and her cousin, phobah, he see the two thousand rupees. you pay two thousand rupees.” the little matter of the gin was com- "you have a strong case, budge sahib,” pletely forgotten in the more important declared the judge. affair of the unrighteous baboo's defeat. told me. the rover bards by walter adolf roberts filled with the love of living, far from the city's reach, hearing only the ocean sob to a lonely beach; seeing only the sea-birds drift with the landward breeze, and the sunlight shimmer clearly over a thousand keys; treading the fertile valleys where the slave had worn the chain, sailing out from aves unto the spanish main; down through the wondrous islands in deathless springtime clad, cuba, hispaniola, jamaica and trinidad- thus did we seek the old things, thus did we seek and hear of wild deeds unrepented, in the haunt of the buccaneer; fashioning forth our music where the palm leaves toss and sway, on the sands by old port royal, or beside samana bay. white fang dented. he took the precaution to sheer 'served 'm tight. you said so yourself, off from the two watching gods, and walked mr. scott. he tried to take white fang's carefully to the corner of the cabin. noth meat, an' he's dead-o. that was to be ex- ing happened. he was plainly perplexed, pected. i wouldn't give two whoops in and he came back again, pausing a dozen feet hell for a dog that wouldn't fight for his away and regarding the two men intently own meat.” “won't he run away?” his new owner “but look at yourself, matt. it's all asked. right about the dogs, but we must draw the matt shrugged his shoulders. “got to line somewhere.” take a gamble. only way to find out is “served me right,” matt argued stub- to find out.” bornly. “what 'd i want to kick ’m for? “poor devil,” scott murmured pityingly. you said yourself that he'd done right. “what he needs is some show of human then i had no right to kick 'm.” kindness,” he added, turning and going "it would be a mercy to kill him,“ scott into the cabin. insisted. “he's untamable.” he came out with a piece of meat, which “now look here, mr. scott, give the poor he tossed to white fang. he sprang away devil a fightin' chance. he ain't had no from it, and from a distance studied it chance yet. he's just come through hell, suspiciously. an' this is the first time he's ben loose. "hi-yu! major!” matt shouted warn give 'm a fair chance, an' if he don't de- ingly, but too late. liver the goods, i'll kill ’m myself. there!” major had made a spring for the meat. "god knows i don't want to kill him or at the instant his jaws closed on it white have him killed,” scott answered, putting fang struck him. he was overthrown. away the revolver. “we'll let him run matt rushed in, but quicker than he was loose and see what kindness can do for him. white fang. major staggered to his feet, and here's a try at it.” but the blood spouting from his throat he walked over to white fang and be- reddened the snow in a widening path. gan talking to him gently and soothingly. "it's too bad, but it served him right,” “better have a club handy,” matt scott said hastily. warned. but matt's foot had already started on scott shook his head and went on trying its way to kick white fang. there was a to win white fang's confidence. leap, a flash of teeth, a sharp exclamation. white fang was suspicious. something white fang, snarling fiercely, scrambled was impending. he had killed this god's backward for several yards, while matt dog, bitten his companion god, and what stooped and investigated his leg. else was to be expected than some terrible "he got me all right,” he announced, punishment? but in the face of it he was pointing to the torn trousers and under indomitable. he bristled and showed his clothes, and the growing stain of red. teeth, his eyes vigilant, his whole body wary "i told you it was hopeless, matt,” scott and prepared for anything. the god had said in a discouraged voice. "i've thought no club, so he suffered him to approach about it off and on, while not wanting to quite near. the god's hand had come out think of it. but we've come to it now. and was descending upon his head. white it's the only thing to do.” fang shrank together and grew tense as as he talked, with reluctant movements he crouched under it. here was danger, he drew his revolver, threw open the cylin some treachery or something. he knew der, and assured himself of its contents. the hands of the gods, their proved mastery, “look here, mr. scott,” matt objected; their cunning to hurt. besides, there was "that dog's ben through hell. you can't his old antipathy to being touched. he expect 'm to come out a white an' shinin' snarled more menacingly, crouched still angel. give 'm time.” lower, and still the hand descended. he "look at major," the other rejoined. did not want to bite the hand, and he en- the dog-musher surveyed the stricken dured the peril of it until his instinct surged dog. he had sunk down on the snow in up in him, mastering him with its insatiable the circle of his blood, and was plainly in yearning for life. the last gasp. weedon scott had believed that he was the outing magazine the love-master quick enough to avoid any snap or slash. matt took the rifle and began slowly to but he had yet to learn the remarkable raise it to his shoulder. white fang's quickness of white fang, who struck with snarling began with the movement, and in- the certainty and swiftness of a coiled creased as the movement approached its snake. culmination. but the moment before the scott cried out sharply with surprise, rifle came to a level on him, he leaped side- catching his torn hand and holding it wise behind the corner of the cabin. matt tightly in his other hand. matt uttered a stood staring along the sights at the empty great oath and sprang to his side. white space of snow which had been occupied by fang crouched down and backed away, white fang. bristling, showing his fangs, his eyes malig the dog-musher put the rifle down nant with menace. now he could expect solemnly, then turned and looked at his a beating as fearful as any he had received employer. from beauty smith. "i agree with you, mr. scott. that “here! what are you doing?” scott dog's too intelligent to kill.” cried suddenly. matt had dashed into the cabin and come out with a rifle. chapter vi “nothin',” he said slowly, with a careless calmness that was assumed, “only goin' to keep that promise i made. i reckon it's as white fang watched weedon scott up to me to kill 'm as i said i'd do." approach, he bristled and snarled to ad- “no, you don't!” vertise that he would not submit to pun- “yes, i do. watch me." ishment. twenty-four hours had passed as matt had pleaded for white fang since he had slashed open the hand that when he had been bitten, it was now was now bandaged and held up by a sling weedon scott's turn to plead. to keep the blood out of it. in the past “you said to give him a chance. well, white fang had experienced delayed pun- give it to him. we've only just started, ishments, and he apprehended that such and we can't quit at the beginning. it a one was about to befall him. how served me right, this time. and-look could it be otherwise? he had committed at him!” what was to him sacrilege, sunk his fangs white fang, near the corner of the cabin into the holy flesh of a god, and of a and forty feet away, was snarling with white-skinned superior god at that. in blood-curdling viciousness, not at scott, the nature of things, and of intercourse but at the dog-musher. with gods, something terrible awaited "well i'll be everlastin'ly gosh-swog- him. gled!” was the dog-musher's expression of the god sat down several feet away. astonishment. white fang could see nothing dangerous “look at the intelligence of him,” scott in that. when the gods administered went on hastily. "he knows the meaning punishment they stood on their legs. be- of firearms as well as you do. he's got sides, this god had no club, no whip, no intelligence, and we've got to give that in firearm. and furthermore he himself was telligence a chance. put up the gun.” free. no chain nor stick bound him. he “all right, i'm willin',” matt agreed, could escape into safety while the god leaning the rifle against the wood-pile. was scrambling to his feet. in the mean- “but will you look at that!” he ex time he would wait and see. claimed the next moment. the god remained quiet, made no move- white fang had quieted down and ment; and white fang's snarl slowly ceased snarling. dwindled to a growl that ebbed down in "this is worth investigatin'. watch." his throat and ceased. then the god matt reached for the rifle, and at the same spoke, and at the first sound of his voice moment white fang snarled. he stepped the hair rose on white fang's neck and the away from the rifle, and white fang's growl rushed up in his throat. but the lifted lips descended, covering his teeth. god made no hostile movement, and went “now, just for fun.” on calmly talking. for a time white - white fang fang growled in unison with him, a cor last the time came that he decided to eat respondence of rhythm being established the meat from the hand. he never took between growl and voice. but the god his eyes from the god, thrusting his head talked on interminably. he talked to forward with ears flattened back and hair white fang as white fang had never been involuntarily rising and cresting on his talked to before. he talked softly and neck. also a low growl rumbled in his soothingly, with a gentleness that some throat as warning that he was not to be how, somewhere, touched white fang. in trifled with. he ate the meat, and nothing spite of himself and all the pricking warn happened. piece by piece he ate all the ings of his instinct, white fang began to meat, and nothing happened. still the have confidence in this god. he had a punishment delayed. feeling of security that was belied by all his he licked his chops and waited. the experience with men. god went on talking. in his voice was after a long time the god got up and kindness--something of which white fang went into the cabin. white fang scanned had no experience whatever. and within him apprehensively when he came out. him it aroused feelings which he had like- he had neither whip nor club nor weapon. wise never experienced before. he was nor was his uninjured hand behind his aware of a certain strange satisfaction, as back hiding something. he sat down as though some need were being gratified, as before, in the same spot, several feet away. though some void in his being were being he held out a small piece of meat. white filled. then again came the prod of his fang pricked his ears and investigated it instinct and the warning of past expe- suspiciously, managing to look at the same rience. the gods were ever crafty, and time both at the meat and the god, alert they had unguessed ways of attaining their for any overt act, his body tense and ready ends. to spring away at the first sign of hostility. ah, he had thought so! there it came still the punishment delayed. the god now, the god's hand, cunning to hurt, merely held near to his nose a piece of thrusting out at him, descending upon his meat. and about the meat there seemed head. but the god went on talking. his nothing wrong. still white fang sus voice was soft and soothing. in spite of pected; and though the meat was proffered the menacing hand, the voice inspired con- to him with short inviting thrusts of the fidence. and in spite of the assuring hand, he refused to touch it. the gods voice, the hand inspired distrust. white were all-wise, and there was no telling what fang was torn by conflicting feelings, im- masterful treachery lurked behind that pulses. it seemed he would fly to pieces, , apparently harmless piece of meat. in so terrible was the control he was exert- past experience, especially in dealing with ing, holding together by an unwonted in- squaws, meat and punishment had often decision the counter-forces that struggled been disastrously related. within him for mastery. in the end, the god tossed the meat he compromised. he snarled and bris- on the snow at white fang's feet. he tled and flattened his ears. but he neither smelled the meat carefully. but he did snapped nor sprang away. the hand de- not look at it. while he smelled it he kept scended. nearer and nearer it came. it his eyes on the god. nothing happened. touched the ends of his upstanding hair. he took the meat into his mouth and swal he shrank down under it. it followed down lowed it. still nothing happened. the after him, pressing more closely against god was actually offering him another piece him. shrinking, almost shivering, he still of meat. again he refused to take it from managed to hold himself together. it was the hand, and again it was tossed to him. a torment, this hand that touched him and this was repeated a number of times. but violated his instinct. he could not forget there came a time when the god refused to in a day all the evil that had been wrought toss it. he kept it in his hand and stead him at the hands of men. but it was the fastly proffered it. will of the god, and he strove to submit. the meat was good meat, and white the hand lifted and descended again in fang was hungry. bit by bit, infinitely a patting caressing movement. this con- cautious, he approached the hand. at tinued, but every time the hand lifted, the the outing magazine hair lifted under it. and every time the hand descended, the ears flattened down and a cavernous growl surged in his throat. white fang growled and growled with in- sistent warning. by this means he an- nounced that he was prepared to retaliate for any hurt he might receive. there was no telling when the god's ulterior motive might be disclosed. at any moment that soft, confidence-inspiring voice might break forth in a roar of wrath, that gentle and caressing hand transform itself into a vise- like grip to hold him helpless and admin- ister punishment. but the god talked on softly, and ever the hand rose and fell with non-hostile pats. white fang experienced dual feel- ings. it was distasteful to his instinct. it restrained him, opposed the will of him toward personal liberty. and yet it was not physically painful. on the contrary, it was even pleasant, in a physical way. the patting movement slowly and care- fully changed to a rubbing of the ears about their bases, and the physical pleasure even increased a little. yet he continued to fear, and he stood on guard, expectant of unguessed evil, alternately suffering and enjoying as one feeling or the other came uppermost and swayed him. "well, i'll be gosh-swoggled!” so spoke matt, coming out of the cabin, his sleeves rolled up, a pan of dirty dish- water in his hands, arrested in the act of emptying the pan by the sight of weedon scott patting white fang. at the instant his voice broke the si- lence, white fang leaped back, snarling savagely at him. matt regarded his employer with grieved disapproval. "if you don't mind my expressin' my feelin's, mr. scott, i'll make free to say you're seventeen kinds of a damn fool an’ all of 'em different, an' then some." weedon scott smiled with a superior air, gained his feet, and walked over to white fang. he talked soothingly to him, but not for long, then slowly put out his hand, rested it on white fang's head, and re- sumed the interrupted patting. white fang endured it, keeping his eyes fixed suspiciously, not upon the man that petted him, but upon the man that stood in the doorway. “you may be a number one, tip-top minin' expert, all right all right," the dog- musher delivered himself oracularly, “but you missed the chance of your life when you was a boy an' didn't run off an' join a circus.” white fang snarled at the sound of his voice, but this time did not leap away from under the hand that was caressing his head and the back of his neck with long, soothing strokes. it was the beginning of the end for white fang-the ending of the old life and the reign of hate. a new and incomprehen- sibly fairer life was dawning. it required much thinking and endless patience on the part of weedon scott to accomplish this. and on the part of white fang it required nothing less than a revolution. he had to ignore the urges and promptings of instinct and reason, defy experience, give the lie to life itself. life, as he had known it, not only had had no place in it for much that he now did; but all the currents had gone counter to those to which he now bandoned him- self. in short, when all things were con- sidered, he had to achieve an orientation far vaster than the one he had achieved at the time he came voluntarily in from the wild and accepted gray beaver as his lord. at that time he was a mere puppy, soft from the making, without form, ready for the thumb of circumstance to begin its work upon him. but now it was different. the thumb of circum- stance had done its work only too well. by it he had been formed and hard- ened into the fighting wolf, fierce and implacable, unloving and unlovable. to accomplish the change was like a reflux of being, and this when the plasticity of youth was no longer his; when the fiber of him had become tough and knotty; when the warp and the woof of him had made of him an adamantine texture, harsh and un- yielding; when the face of his spirit had become iron, and all his instincts and axi- oms had crystallized into set rules, cau- tions, dislikes, and desires. yet again, in this new orientation, it was the thumb of circumstance that pressed and prodded him, softening that which had become hard and remolding it into fairer form. weedon scott was in truth this thumb. he had gone to the roots of white fang's nature, and with kindness touched white fang to life potencies that had languished and point to caress and pet white fang, and well nigh perished. one such potency was to do it at length. love. it took the place of like, which latter at first suspicious and hostile, white had been the highest feeling that thrilled fang grew to like this petting. but there him his intercourse with the gods. was one thing that he never outgrew-his but this love did not come in a day. it growling. growl he would, from the mo- began with like and out of it slowly de ment the petting began until it ended. veloped. white fang did not run away, but it was a growl with a new note in it. though he was allowed to remain loose, a stranger could not hear this note, and because he liked this new god. this was to such a stranger the growling of white certainly better than the life he had lived fang was an exhibition of primordial in the cage of beauty smith, and it was savagery, nerve-racking and blood-curd- necessary that he should have some god. ling. but white fang's throat had be- the lordship of man was a need of his na come harsh-fibered from the making of ture. the seal of his dependence on man ferocious sounds through the many years had been set upon him in that early day since his first little rasp of anger in the lair when he turned his back on the wild and of his cubhood, and he could not soften crawled to gray beaver's feet to receive the sounds of that throat now to express the expected beating. this seal had been the gentleness he felt. nevertheless, wee- stamped upon him again, and ineradicably, don scott's ear and sympathy were fine on his second return from the wild, when enough to catch the new note all but the long famine was over and there was drowned in the fierceness—the note that fish once more in the village of gray was the faintest hint of a croon of content beaver. and that none but he could hear. and so because he needed a god, and be as the days went by, the evolution of like cause he preferred weedon scott to beau into love was accelerated. white fang ty smith, white fang remained. in ac himself began to grow aware of it, though knowledgment of fealty, he proceeded to in his consciousness he knew not what love take upon himself the guardianship of his was. it manifested itself to him as a void master's property. he prowled about the in his being a hungry, aching, yearning cabin while the sled-dogs slept, and the void that clamored to be filled. it was a first night visitor to the cabin fought him pain and an unrest; and it received ease- off with a club until weedon scott came to ment only by the touch of the new god's the rescue. but white fang soon learned presence. at such times love was a joy to differentiate between thieves and honest to him, a wild, keen-thrilling satisfaction. men, to appraise the true value of step and but when away from his god, the pain and carriage. the man who traveled, loud the unrest returned; the void in him sprang stepping, the direct line to the cabin door, up and pressed against him with its empti- he let alone—though he watched him vigi ness, and the hunger gnawed and gnawed lantly until the door opened and he re unceasingly. ceived the indorsement of the master. but white fang was in the process of finding the man who went softly, by circuitous himself. in spite of the maturity of his ways, peering with caution, seeking after years and of the savage rigidity of the secresy—that was the man who received mold that had formed him, his nature was no suspension of judgment from white undergoing an expansion. there was a fang, and who went away abruptly, hur- bourgeoning within him of strange feelings riedly, and without dignity. and unwonted impulses. his old code of weedon scott had set himself the task conduct was changing. in the past he of redeeming white fang-or rather, of had liked comfort and surcease from pain, redeeming mankind from the wrong it had disliked discomfort and pain, and he had done white fang. it was a matter of adjusted his actions accordingly. but now principle and conscience. he felt that the it was different. because of this new feel- ill done white fang was a debt incurred by ing within him, he ofttimes elected dis- man and that it must be paid. so he went comfort and pain for the sake of his god. out of his way to be especially kind to the thus, in the early morning, instead of fighting wolf. each day he made it a roaming and foraging, or lying in a shel- white fang ever. he suspected nothing. that night he weedon scott strode half across the waited for the master to return. at mid room toward him, at the same time calling night the chill wind that blew drove him him. white fang came to him, not with to shelter at the rear of the cabin. there a great bound, yet quickly. he was awk- he drowsed, only half asleep, his ears keyed ward from self-consciousness, but as he for the first sound of the familiar step. drew near, his eyes took on a strange ex- but, at two in the morning, his anxiety pression. something, an incommunicable drove him out to the cold front stoop, vastness of feeling, rose up into his eyes as where he crouched and waited. a light and shone forth. but no master came. in the morning “he never looked at me that way all the the door opened and matt stepped outside. time you was gone,” matt commented. white fang gazed at him wistfully. there weedon scott did not hear. he was was no common speech by which he might squatting down on his heels, face to face learn what he wanted to know. the days with white fang and petting him—rub- came and went, but never the master. bing at the roots of the ears, making long white fang, who had never known sick caressing strokes down the neck to the ness in his life, became sick. he became shoulders, tapping the spine gently with very sick, so sick that matt was finally the balls of his fingers. and white fang compelled to bring him inside the cabin. was growling responsively, the crooning also, in writing to his employer, matt de note of the growl more pronounced than voted a postscript to white fang. weedon scott, reading the letter down but that was not all. what of his joy, in circle city, came upon the following: the great love in him, ever surging and “that dam wolf won't work. won't struggling to express itself, succeeded in eat. ain't go no spunk left. all the finding a new mode of expression. he dogs is licking him. wants to know what suddenly thrust his head forward and has become of you, and i don't know how nudged his way in between the master's to tell him. mebbe he is going to die." arm and body. and here, confined, hid- it was as matt had said. white fang den from view all except his ears, no long- had ceased eating, lost heart, and allowed er growling, he continued to nudge and every dog of the team to thrash him. in snuggle. the cabin he lay on the floor near the stove, the two men looked at each other. without interest in food, in matt, or in scott's eyes were shining. life. matt might talk gently to him or "gosh!” said matt in an awe-stricken swear at him, it was all the same; he never voice. did more than turn his dull eyes upon the a moment later, when he had recovered man, then drop his head back to its cus himself, he said, “i always insisted that tomary position on his fore-paws. wolf was a dog. look at 'm!” and then, one night, matt, reading to with the return of the love-master, himself with moving lips and mumbled white fang's recovery was rapid. two sounds, was startled by a low whine from nights and a day he spent in the cabin. white fang. he had got upon his feet, then he sallied forth. the sled-dogs had his ears cocked toward the door, and he forgotten his prowess. they remembered was listening intently. a moment later, only the latest, which was his weakness matt heard a footstep. the door opened and sickness. at the sight of him as he and weedon scott stepped in. the two came out of the cabin they sprang upon men shook hands. then scott looked him. around the room. "talk about your rough-houses," matt “where's the wolf?” he asked. murmured gleefully, standing in the door- then he discovered him, standing where way and looking on. “give 'm hell, you he had been lying, near to the stove. he wolf! give 'm hell-an' then some. had not rushed forward after the manner white fang did not need the encour- of other dogs. he stood, watching and agement. the return of the love-master waiting was enough. life was flowing through “holy smoke!” matt exclaimed. “look him again, splendid and indomitable. he at 'm wag his tail!” fought from sheer joy, finding in it an ex- the outing magazine pression of much that he felt and that white fang was in a rage, wickedly making otherwise was without speech. there his attack on the most vulnerable spot. could be but one ending. the team dis from shoulder to wrist of the crossed persed in ignominious defeat, and it was arms, the coat-sleeve, blue flannel shirt not until after dark that the dogs came and undershirt were ripped in rags, while sneaking back, one by one, by meekness the arms themselves were terribly slashed and humility signifying their fealty to and streaming blood. white fang. all this the two men saw in the first having learned to snuggle, white fang instant. the next instant weedon scott was guilty of it often. it was the final had white fang by the throat and was word. he could not go beyond it. the dragging him clear. white fang struggled one thing of which he had always been and snarled, but made no attempt to bite, particularly jealous was his head. he while he quickly quieted down at a sharp had always disliked to have it touched. it word from the master. was the wild in him, the fear of hurt and matt helped the man to his feet. as he of the trap, that had given rise to the pan arose he lowered his crossed arms, exposing icky impulses to avoid contacts. it was the bestial face of beauty smith. the the mandate of his instinct that that head dog-musher let go of him precipitately, must be free. and now, with the love with action similar to that of a man who master, his snuggling was the deliberate has picked up live fire. beauty smith act of putting himself into a position of blinked in the lamplight and looked about hopeless helplessness. it was an expres him. he caught sight of white fang and sion of perfect confidence, of absolute self terror rushed into his face. surrender, as though he said: "i put my at the same moment matt noticed two self into thy hands. work thou thy will objects lying in the snow. he held the with me.” lamp close to them, indicating them with one night, not long after the return, his toe for his employer's benefit—a steel scott and matt sat at a game of cribbage, dog-chain and a stout club. preliminary to going to bed. "fifteen weedon scott saw and nodded. not a two, fifteen-four, an' a pair makes six,” word was spoken. the dog-musher laid matt was pegging up, when there was an his hand on beauty smith's shoulder and outcry and sound of snarling without. faced him to the right about. no word they looked at each other as they started needed to be spoken. beauty smith to rise to their feet. started. "the wolf's nailed somebody,” matt said. in the meantime the love-master was a wild scream of fear and anguish has patting white fang and talking to him. tened them. “tried to steal you, eh? and you "bring a light!" scott shouted, as he wouldn't have it! well, well, he made a mistake, didn't he?" matt followed with the lamp, and by its "must 'a' thought he had hold of seven- light they saw a man lying on his back in teen devils," the dog-musher sniggered. the snow. his arms were folded, one above white fang, still wrought up and brist- the other, across his face and throat. thus ling, growled and growled, the hair slowly he was trying to shield himself from white lying down, the crooning note remote and fang's teeth. and there was need for it. dim, but growing in his throat. sprang outside. (to be continued.) the names of birds by c. william beebe m any of our english names of birds comes from the root of spurn, meaning to have an unsuspected ancestry, kick or quiver; why we know not. exhibiting interesting changes eagle, egle, aigle, aquia, take us to the through past years, romantic as well as latin aquila, from a word meaning brown, historical. or dark colored. pelican is from a greek the word owl (or, as it was formerly ule) word with similar meaning, but also con- is derived from the latin word ululaan fused with a term meaning woodpecker, owl. this was probably from the bird's which goes direct to a sanskrit word, cry, and hence is remotely related to our paraçu, meaning a battle-axe. pigeon (to word howl. hawk comes from the root which widgeon is related) is from the latin haf, meaning to take or seize. cassowary pipio, a young chirping bird. dove is is from kassuwaris, the malay name of these obscure in its various spellings-duve, duſa, great birds. the droll-looking stork called due, dubo—but literally means a diver, per- jabiru traces his name to a south ameri haps from the bobbing of the bird's head. can indian word yábiru, meaning to blow thrush and throstle (and even the rus- out with wind, which has reference to the sian drodzu) are from the latin turdus. bird's habit of distending the loose skin on etymology throws no light upon lark and the neck. robin is an old diminutive of tern, and the first meaning of loon from robert, and parrot stands in the same loom, is forever lost to us. grebe is from relation to the french word pierrot krib or cribyn—a comb or crest. trogon is peter. oriole is appropriately taken from greek, meaning to gnaw or chew. the latin aureolus, meaning golden. mal cockatoo harks back to the hindoo lard, from male, was at first used to denote kakatua, from the bird's cry. the root of only the drake, or male, of that species of swan is a mystery, unless it was connected duck. turtle, as used in turtle dove, is in some way with the sanskrit svan and from the latin turtur, the repetition being the latin sonare—sound. goose, gos, gas, supposed to resemble the cooing of a dove. gans (and latin) anser, has its stem also in curassow-properly curaçao bird-takes gander and gannet. goshawk is from a its name from the island north of venezuela. wrong diminutive of goose. fowl from quail, through many and various spellings, fugl, flugl, meant originally to fly. duck can be traced to quackel and other forms, is literally a ducker, one who ducks or derived from the note of the bird. con dives. grouse is from some such word as dor is from a peruvian word, cuntur; and griesche, from the latin griseus, meaning cormorant resolves into the latin words gray. with partridge we must stop at the corvus marinus, literally a sea crow. latin perdix. egret has passed through such forms as the origin of ptarmigan is unknown, but egran and hiron, and thus merges into it should rightly be written tarmigan, the heron, which in turn has evolved from p having been added by some officious per- bigera, cregyr and other gutturals, given in son, who wrongly supposed the word to fancied imitation of the cry of the bird. be of greek derivation. pheasant is pure shrike too, from the icelandic shrikja, is so greek, meaning the phasian bird, that be- called from the harsh cry. ing the name of a river in calchis along many words are lost in antiquity. thus whose banks the birds were numerous. we know that ibis goes back through the plover is interestingly derived from the greek tongue to the old egyptian; but no latin pluviarius, because these birds ap- one knows where the first pharaoh got it. peared in italy during the rainy season. as far back as legends reach, swallow, with the tragopans are well-named. these various spellings, signifies the long-winged beautiful birds have two fleshy horns on bird which we know so well. sparrow the head; like those figured by the greeks the outing magazine on a satyr, hence tragopan--the goat of kind of food they are supposed to prefer, pan. the name turkey was founded on the sparrow and duck hawk, herring gull the misconception that these birds were and fish crow; and again, some character native of that country. their hindoo of the plumage may suggest a title, as bald name peru refers to their american origin. eagle, pintail duck and the rough-legged snipe is from snipper or snapper-one nipper or snapper-one hawk, which has feathers instead of scales, who snaps up. sanderling is a remarkable down to its toes. word, showing the use of two diminutives. some birds have a different name in crane is from latin grus, by way of cranich, every part of the country. the green trana, garan, gerue. jay, which in other heron is known as poke, chalkline (very languages is gayo and gaya, is so called apt) and even “fly up the creek.” the from its bright plumage. crow is from common flicker is variously greeted as the same root as croak. raven through yarrup, wickup, whicker, highholder, gold- raben, raaf, etc., like owl and crow, is from en-winged woodpecker, etc., from his notes, the guttural cry. finch, formerly fink and habits or colors. pink, is from the call-note of the male even the scientific names should interest english chaffinch. every one. there is a small, brownish owl, we notice that many names of birds are who is burdened—all unconsciously-with taken from the usual habitat or particular the rather long name of speotyto cunicu- locality for which they show a preference, laria hypogæa. the latin and greek lan- such as the pine siskin, orchard oriole, guages are taught in all civilized nations, marsh hawk, canada goose and tropic bird, and being thus an almost universal means skylark and night hawk. of communication, the name of a bird or we can form another list of names de animal in either of these languages would rived from the character of the songs or be comprehensible to any educated eng- notes of birds — bob white, bobolink, lishman, german, swede or japanese. laughing thrush, screech owl, cuckoo, one can see that this little owl, just men- whooping crane and trumpeter swan. if tioned above, has three names, and these we attempted to note all those whose may be compared to the name john henry colors suggested their names, our list smith, if it is written smith, henry john. would be almost endless. there are the the first, or generic name (family it would goldfinch, silver pheasant, flamingo, from be called in the case of a human being) the french flamant-flaming; and the car tells something interesting about the bird. dinal, who truly merits his name, for he is it is from two greek words--speos, a cave, indeed an animated mass of color. and tuto, a kind of owl. but as there are the "little chief” partridge is so called many smiths, so there may be several cave because of the indian headdress style of his owls, and we need a more definite title. crest; the catbird because of the mewing for this we use the latin word cunicularia, character of his notes; the cowbird be- meaning a burrower, which teaches us that cause he is a close companion of those these birds are able to dig their own bur- bovines, freeing them from ticks and other thus we have the henry smith troublesome insects; the snakebird is so part. but there happen to be two henry denominated, not because he feeds on those smiths in this family, which, however, live reptiles, but on account of the resemblance in different parts of the country and are which his head and neck bear to a water sufficiently distinct to deserve. individual snake when the bird is swimming with the names. the one which lives on the west- entire body submerged. the horned owl ern plains, which we may liken to john gets his name from two tufts of feathers on henry smith, has the third appellation, the head. the kingfisher merits his name, hypogæa, from a greek word, bupogeios, for he is a past master in his profession. meaning underground; from which we a number of birds are named after per gather that the burrows of these owls are sons, such as leadbeater's cockatoo, lady not in trees, but in the ground. the other amherst pheasant and cooper's hawk. species (let us say roger henry smith) still others have received names suggested lives in florida, and so the latin word by the character of the bill-grosbeak, floridana--of or inhabiting florida—is very spoonbill and shoveler duck; or by the appropriate. rows. the builders vii.-the heart of the big timber country by ralph d. paine photographs by the author l umbering is the chief industry of they are marketing they are obtaining a that vast region bounded on the beggarly return. they are leaving the north by alaska, on the south by ground a fire-swept, desolate waste. they california, on the west by the pacific ocean, are taking to themselves the whole of the and on the east by the rocky mountains. heritage intrusted to them. the sacred in this territory, known as the pacific right of property is theirs, and they do as northwest, nearly two hundred thousand they will with their own.” men are employed in cutting down the last the ancient woods of new england and primeval forests of this country, and slicing michigan and minnesota have been stripped these stately armies of spruce and fir and of their heavy growth by the logger; the cedar into five billion feet of lumber and white pine already belongs with the past, six billion shingles every year. and a country which has been wont to con- this prodigious activity has built up sider its natural resources inexhaustible cities and states and launched a mighty can foresee the end of its timber supply commerce. its allied industries directly within the next century unless the forests support half a million people. this tim are replanted and cared for. it is very bered area is the richest natural treasure of hard for the american of this generation the american continent, compared with to realize that there can be any end to the which the gold mines of alaska and nevada wealth of the land and the forests and the are of picayune value for and for com mines which have done so much to make ing generations. it is so wonderfully rich this country what it is. a treasure that its owners are squander it is possible, however, to see american ing it like drunken spendthrifts. in these enterprise and headlong haste after quick mighty western forests a billion feet of returns attacking the “last stand of the lumber is wasted every year, enough to big timber” with an energy that is fairly build one hundred thousand comfortable infernal. a thousand mills, and fleets of american homes. steam and sail are waiting for this harvest, “do these people ever think of the cen and yet it is tragic and almost pitiful to turies through which their harvest has been think that the future is being robbed of growing?” implores a western man with the great treasures for the sake of a little profit interests of his state at heart. “does it in hand, and that a nation's birthright never occur to them that they are the being sold for a mess of pottage. trustees of a heritage for future generations it is characteristic of western men and to be guarded, cared for and watched, to methods that the ways of logging in the be used only as necessity requires or price east should have been flung aside as crude justifies, and not to be wantonly wasted or and slow. the giant timber of the wash- destroyed, or disposed of without adequate ington forests on the slopes of the cascades return? and how are they fulfilling their is not hauled by teams or rafted down trust? they are leaving half their crop in rivers. steam has made of logging a busi- the woods to be burned, and for the half ness which devastates the woods with the outing magazine incredible speed, system, and ardor. the and geared to every wheel, drivers and logging camps of the cascades differ as trucks, so that when the shaft turned and strikingly from the lumbering centers of the gearing took hold, every wheel of this northern new england as the electric gold little giant bit hold of the rail, and pushed, dredgers of the sacramento valley contrast or held back with concentrated energy. with the placer diggings of the forty soon this lop-sided toiler towed us up niners. in other words, the greater the among the hills, away from the wreckage need of preserving the forests, the greater of the forest, and plunged into the green is the american ingenuity for turning them and towering vistas of douglas fir and red into cash as fast as possible. cedar and fragrant spruce. part of this the camp where i found these up-to tract had been cut over, and the refuse date lumbermen tearing the heart out of might have marked the trail of a cyclone. one of the noblest forests in america was but the “culls" left standing were majestic near the sky komish river in washington, in size. they had been passed by as not where this mountain stream winds through worth felling. two months before i had the foothills of the western slopes of the been loafing along the kennebec river, cascade range. we set out from everett watching the tail end of the spring drive in the early morning and left the train at float down from the woods of northern a raw little town called sultan. beyond maine. alas, most of that harvest had the town was the wreckage of the forest, been sapling logs, toothpicks in size, for blackened patches where the fire had the pulp mills. the biggest of the tim- swept in the wake of the loggers, miles of ber logs of that maine drive, looked like gaunt and melancholy trunks spared by kindlings compared with these neglected the axe to die in flame and smoke. be- "culls" of the washington forest. yond this devastated area rose the moun when the logging train trailed into the tains, still clothed with trees, far up to the virgin woods, the straight, clean trunks of rocky heights whose bare outline was standing timber were like the columns of a fleeced with snow and wreathed in mists wonderful cathedral. their spreading tops and clouds. were more than two hundred feet in air, in a nearby clearing was the camp of the their branches clothed with moss like green lumbermen, a row of bunk-houses, a kitch velvet. through their canopy of verdure en and a big dining-room. the buildings the sunlight sifted, far down to the dense were of sawed lumber because this material undergrowth of salmon-berry, tall ferns was easier to handle than logs, so that and other shrubs spreading in an almost there was nothing picturesque in this first impenetrable mass. many of the trees glimpse of the pacific lumberman at work. which made this splendid picture had been his settlement looked like the beginnings growing in their solitude for three or four of a frontier town. hundred years. now they were doomed past the camp ran a single-track railroad to be destroyed by puny, bustling, swear- which wound up through a gash in the ing men with saws and axes, assailants bold hills, twisting like a snake, climbing who were tapping at their grand butts like hills that would tire a pack train. it so many woodpeckers. mingled with the spanned ravines on crazy wooden trestles, staccato tapping of the distant axes was and cut corners at impossible angles. no the "rasp-rasp" of the sawyers, gnawing civilized locomotive could be expected to their way through, in less than an hour, operate on this track, but presently a that which it had taken god almighty squat, broad-shouldered dwarf of an engine to perfect since the time when columbus scuttled down from the hills with a train found this continent of ours. load of logs behind it, and proceeded to presently a spur or branch line zig- show how singularly adapted it was for the zagged off from the railroad. the squat work in hand. it was a deformed, one and laboring locomotive crawled along sided looking monster, built for power, not this side track, which was laid on top of for speed. the boiler was not hung over the ground with so little grading that the the center of its trucks, but sat well on the rails billowed up and down the hills. the starboard side. instead of driving-rods, toot of the locomotive was answered by a shaft was geared along one side, cogged the scream of another whistle somewhere - - — a lumber camp in the cascades. ahead, as if there were a bustling activity beyond the curtaining trees. the fore- man of the "outfit” was waiting to go to the end of the "spur," and he swung him- self aboard from a handy log alongside the track. he was a quiet young man with a frank gray eye, a square jaw and a fine pair of shoulders. he explained in reply to many questions: "i've got a gang of a hundred irish, swedes and americans, and most of them get drunk whenever they get a chance. no, they aren't always easy to handle, but if you let little things worry you, you'll go crazy, so what's the use?' i was raised in michigan logging camps, and this getting timber out by steam power is different. i had to learn the business all over again when i came out to the coast. we run these spurs off the main line about every fourteen hundred feet, two of them off each side, parallel, you understand. then we log between the two spurs, giving us seven hundred foot haul either way to the flat cars. when we're through, we pull up our tracks and push ahead and then run the spurs off to left and right in the same fashion. if you've been used to seeing logging with ox teams and sleds, you'll have a chance to see some real live action when you've watched the donkey- engine at work.” his forecast most conservative. logging by steam, as it is done in the was the logging railroad the outing magazine tumbling sea. no roads had been cut. it seemed impossible to move these great sections of trees to the railroad and thence to market. teaming was out of the ques- tion in such a ruck as this. the only appliances in sight were the humble “donkey,” and the aimless wire- cable which led off into the general tangle of things. closer inspection showed a signal rope which led from the whistle of the “donkey” off into the woods without visible destination. some one out of vision yanked this six hundred feet of rope. the 'donkey” screamed a series of intelligent blasts. the engine clattered, the drums began to revolve and the wire cable which seemed to wind off to nowhere in particular grew taut. the "donkey" surged against its moorings, its massive sled began to rear and pitch as if it were striving to bury its nose in the earth. there was a startling uproar in the forest, wholly beyond seeing distance, it sounded as if trees were being pulled up by the roots. the "don- key” was puffing and tugging at its anchor- age as if it had suddenly undertaken to mind you. the foreman of the "gang." cascades, is worth going many miles to see as a hair-raising spectacle. when the train toiled into a clearing, the donkey- engine stood near the track and the skid- way which led to the loading platform. it was a commonplace looking "donkey," although bigger than most of its breed which puff and strain on docks and at the foot of derricks. the boiler and engine were mounted on a massive timber sled, whose runners or underpinnings were two weighty logs. this timber raft had a blunt bow and a snub nose where the runners had been hewn away, like the front end of a new england “stone-boat." stout guy-ropes ran to nearby trees, moor- ing the “donkey” as if it were an unruly kind of a beast. in front of the engine was a series of drums, wound round with wire cable which trailed off into the forest and vanished. the area across which these cables trailed was littered with windfalls, tall butts, sawed-off tops and branches, up- turned roots fifteen feet in air. huge logs, cut in lengths of from twenty-five to forty feet, loomed amid this woodland wreckage like the backs of a school of whales in a the "husky" crew going to dinner on the flat-cars the builders ing off small trees as if they were twigs, leaping over obstacles, gouging a way for itself with terrific uproar. i waited until the log was within twenty feet of the loading platform, and then, ſear- ful that the "donkey" might forget to let go in the excitement of the moment, i moved rapidly away from the scene of ac- tion. the huge missile halted in its flight, and the masterful “donkey” had a breath- 'ing spell. it was time to wonder how they were going to load this unwieldy trute of a log on a flat car. one realized the girth and weight of it when the “chaser” followed it in, and branded it by stamping one end with a sledge hammer. as he stood by the butt of it, the top of the log was well above his head. now the “head loader,” and "loader" assumed command. they deftly rigged slings of wire cable around the log, and the donkey engine was asked to give them a lift. the tireless "donkey" squatted back, made a wild lunge or two before settling in the traces, and the log began to roll over and over up the inclined skidway in the bight of these slings. a "bucker" at work. jerk out the side of the mountain. in a moment a log came hurtling out of the undergrowth nearly a thousand feet away. it was a section of tree six feet through, a diameter greater than the height of most men. it was forty feet long, and it must have weighed a large number of tons. it burst into sight as if it had wings, smashing and tearing its own pathway. the "donkey," was not merely dragging it at the end of a wire cable a quarter of a mile long. it was yanking it home hand over fist. the great log was coming so fast that when it fetched athwart a stump it pitched over it as if it were taking a hurdle. then it became entangled with another whopper of a log, as big as itself. the two locked arms, they did not even hesitate, and both came lunging toward the “donkey” and the railroad. the “donkey” did not complain of this extra burden. it veered sidewise as if to get a fresh grip, reared a trifle more vi- ciously, coughed and grunted, and jerked t'e burden along with undiminished vigor. it is an awesome sight to see a log six feet through and forty feet long borinding to- ward you as if the devil wers in it, becak- in a timber-yard. the remarkable donkey-engine yanking the big timber through the woods the savage desolation in the lumberman's wake. heard afar. there is a vast, solemn groan made in the butt six or eight feet above ing sound, and then with the noise of ground, the "fallers” are at work, nibbling thunder the tree smites the ground, and at other great trees before the saws come the earth trembles. it is an impressive into play, for these trees are sawed, not spectacle for the layman who is not figur- chopped down, and the axe does only the ing how many feet of lumber this prostrate preliminary work. twenty trees are felled monarch will yield. nor does it cheer him every working day by the crew of "two to learn that one of these great trees is fallers” and one "under-cutter," twenty worth only fifty dollars to the logger, and trees together worth a thousand dollars as that when it reaches the mill it will be cut they fall. up into ten thousand feet of lumber. fifty men work in each gang, and two when it is down, the “buckers" attack "yards” are being cleared at the same time, it. with one man on each end of a long so that a hundred men toil to keep the two and limber saw, the tree is soon cut into donkey-engines and the railroad spurs handy lengths, ready for the wire cable and busy. between forty and fifty big trees the obstreperous donkey-engine. perched come down in the day's work of the "out- high on their spring-boards set in notches fit." they are a strong and hustling lot "washing up for dinner. - the "donkey" at work. of men. logging by steam admits of no group on the swaying flat cars. most of leisurely methods. the gangs are kept on the cars were piled high with logs, and the the jump to measure pace with the “don broad-shouldered, lop-sided little engine key" and the busy little railroad, and had to hold back with all its might to pre- profits are so small at best that no time vent the train from running away with it. can be wasted. the boss drives his crews, we slowed up at another “yard” where but he feeds and pays them well, and they a spur of track led to a loading platform. have no snow-bound winters to fight. here an unwearied “donkey” was engaged when the day's work was over in the in its last task of the long day. it was "yards” we visited, the men came nocking perched on the crest of a hill beyond which from the woods to board the train that was the cleared land pitched down to a shallow waiting to carry them down to the camp pond. across the pond a trail opened at the foot of the hills. they were rough into the dense forest, a trail furrowed like and husky men, ready for a fight or a an irrigating ditch. down the hill, through frolic, but the quiet young foreman with the pond, and along the furrowed ditch the gray eye and square jaw held their ran the wire cable, taut and humming as respectful attention whenever he joined a the "donkey” pulled it home. the "riggers" crew repairing cables. the outing magazine it was a matter of minutes while we in the noblest wilderness left to the ameri- waited and looked at the opening in the can nation. he has invested money in the woods. then the log heaved in sight, ownership of timber lands. he is unwill- riding grandly through the shadows like a ing to let this investment lie idle. the sentient monster. it charged out of the only way in which he can get returns is by woods, hurling earth and stones before it. cutting timber, and he is not to be harshly on top of it stood a logger, swaying easily, blamed for wishing to realize on his invest- shifting his footing to meet the plunges of ment. he has been criminally wasteful his great beast, a dare-devil figure of a man and careless, and he is beginning to see the outlined against the sunset sky as the log folly of his ways. flew down hill. before it dived into the his spirit of extravagance and contempt pond he made a flying leap, and tumbled for the future has been of a piece with the into the undergrowth with a yell of pure handling of the public domain, as if uncle enjoyment. then the log tore through the sam and his people could never come to the pond amid a whirlwind of spray, and end of their rope. the demand for timber moved up the opposite slope to the end of is enormous, and the men who possess it its long journey. are average, hard-working americans who fully as heroic as the figure of the logger want to make a success of the business in on the riding home, was the man perched which their dollars and their industry are above the groaning drums of the donkey staked. engine. he handled his straining cables there is a class of sentimentalists who and machinery in a fashion to suggest the make outcry against all destruction of for- management of an elephant by means of ests, as if lumber could be made in a mill a walking stick. when the tooting signals and not from trees. vast as is the produc- came to him that all was ready somewhere tion of the forests of the pacific northwest, out in the woods, he let the “haulback" the annual cut amounts in board measure unwind, and then tightened the pull on to only twice as much as the annual con- the big cable and made ready for action. sumption of timber for railroad ties alone when the signal came that meant "go in the united states. about two hundred ahead,” he threw his lever over, and a railroad ties is the average yield of forest hundred horse-power surged into being, per acre, and to replace the worn-out ties not by easy gradation, but with a fierce and and lay new track for one year, means the sudden jump. it was like starting a heavy stripping of one half million acres of amer- train by throwing the throttle wide open. ican forest. bridge timbers, telegraph it was taken for granted that everything poles, etc., swell this demand to a million would hold together, and, mirabile dictu, it acres of forest, cut down each year to did. and when the log moved, it was with maintain american railroads. and rail- the power of a hundred horses jumping into road ties are a small item in the total con- their collars as one and starting on the sumption of lumber. gallop. the most vivid impression of the one of the most hopeful signs of the day among the big timber was made by times is the changing attitude of the lum- the "donkey-engine" as used in modern bermen toward the science of forestry as logging. it (i was going to say "he") is fostered by the federal government. they an uproarious embodiment of the american are beginning to see that their industry is spirit in action, with no time for sentiment. doomed to an early extinction unless the the "donkey" recks not of the tragedy of wastage is checked and the forest is re- the big trees. it rolls up its sleeves and newed for future generations. and more proceeds to get results or break its back in than this, unless the forests are preserved, the attempt. vast tracts of fertile and prosperous amer- in a hundred valleys of the far west ica will become desert in the next century. and along a hundred hillsides the logger is this is a lesson taught by such countries tearing the forest to pieces by these twen as tunis, now a part of the north african tieth century methods. he picks out the desert, which in old times was a smiling choicest timber for slaughter, leaves the and populous garden. an arab chronicler remainder to be burned by the fires which relates that "in those days one could walk follow his crews, and is making desolation from tunis to tripoli in the shade.” the where the timber is shot down the mountain. the outing magazine it was a arab conquest destroyed the forest, and the greatest benefactor of the state, and to the desert swept over the face of the land. the community in which he lived, who it is difficult to realize that all attempts slashed down the most forest and cleared to educate the present-day american in the the most land. there was no thought of value of forest preservation fly in the face the future value of timber. of the teachings of his immediate fore cumberer of the ground, like ledges of rock fathers. in an address delivered at the and the loose stones of the glacial drift. american forest congress last year, this the lumberman was not a devastator, but change of national viewpoint was put in a performed a useful function by removing striking manner. that which, as it stood, had little or no "no reasonable man would be disposed value." to denounce the early settlers of the tim the lumbermen of to-day, realizing that bered portions of north america for cut our grandfathers attacked the timber as an ting away the forests. cleared land was enemy rather than a friend, are asking: necessary for the growing of food prod “how can i cut my timber now, and at ucts which were needed to sustain life. a the same time grow a new crop for future man with a family by a courageous enter supply?" the forestry bureau at wash- prise, or by the force of circumstances, ington, under the notably efficient direction projected into the wilderness, would not of gifford pinchot and with the active co- hesitate to cut down and clear off the tree operation of president roosevelt, is ready growth as rapidly as his strength permitted. to tell the lumberman how to face this self-preservation is the first law of nature, problem, and better yet, offers to send its and the pioneers in our forest areas had to experts to show him, on the ground, how clear the land or starve. moreover, in the to cut his timber to the best advantage for early period of settlement he was considered present needs and future use. the stump of a giant which has grown over a fallen tree three hundred years old, the outing magazine noble red men. his presence was com a student at hampton-sidney college, his manding, his courage active and indomi father died. robert morris, the great table, his mind subtle, vigorous and acute. financier, who as director of the monetary his eloquence too abounded in picturesque affairs of the united colonies had induced and striking imagery, and was all-persuasive some stability and order into the depre- in councils. with all the rest his judg- ciated and confused finances, and who, ment was cool and his fiery spirit under great after pledging his own large private for- control. no emergency ever clouded his tune to buy food and powder for washing- understanding; only the strongest provo ton's little army, was allowed to die in cation could ruffle his temper, and it is poverty by an ungrateful republic, be- doubtful if there ever lived a greater master came young harrison's guardian. he of dissimulation. brought his ward to philadelphia and en- the various treaties by which the agents tered him as a student under the celebrated of the whites had taken from the childlike dr. rush. but medicine was not to the red men their land excited the fiery wrath boy's liking. he applied personally to of this great chief, and he set himself no washington, his father's old friend, for less a task than the uniting of all the in service in the army, and the first president dian races, north and south, in a great con gave him an ensign's commission and much federacy, strangely like the amphictyonic good advice. harrison proceeded at once league of old, whose high priest should to his post at fort washington, near the be olliwacheca, whose head chief should present site of cincinnati; there he re- be tecumseh, and whose purpose should be mained three years, and then joined the the utter annihilation of the whites. the army of anthony wayne in that hero's influence that this masterful savage pos campaign against the indians. he was in sessed over the minds of the indians was the great fight that so completely crushed strengthened and aided by that which the the savages, and served so valiantly that prophet exercised over their emotions, and he won his commander's commendation. such was the vigor and secresy of their the dashing general indeed wrote of him plans, that almost before the western rep in the most eulogistic terms. “lieutenant resentatives of the government were aware harrison," he said, "was in the foremost of any danger, a serious menace threatened front of the hottest battle. his person all the settlements west of the alleghanies. was exposed from the commencement to but by a singular piece of good fortune the close of the action. wherever duty it happened that the man for the emergency called him he hastened regardless of danger, was at hand. while the difficulties which and by his efforts and example contributed led to the shameful war of were fer as much to secure the fortunes of the day menting and british agents were practicing as any other officer subordinate to the those despicable arts which the duplicity commander-in-chief.” of britain's statecraft more than encour his new renown and his chief's recom- aged so long as the republic was weak, a mendation now made harrison a captain young man named william henry harri in the regular army and he was given com- son was appointed governor of the terri mand of fort washington. his energy tory of indiana, which then comprised, be and capacity in his new post soon led to his sides the state of that name, all the territory appointment as secretary of the north- that is now embraced in michigan, illinois west territory; and when three years and wisconsin. later, at the beginning of the new century, the young governor was the son of that a division of the territory was made and benjamin harrison, a planter of virginia, ohio set off, because of his knowledge of who was a signer of the declaration of in western affairs and his enterprise he be- dependence, three times governor of his came governor of the remaining territory, native state, and chairman of the con then called indiana. gressional board of war during the first he was but twenty-seven years of two years of the revolution. young har this time, but was already looked upon by rison was born on his father's plantation the authorities at washington as a man of on the james river, on the th of january, fine parts and more than ordinary ca- . at the age of eighteen, while he was pacity. age at - drawing by stanley m. arthurs. "the prophet professed peace and asked for another 'talk.'" (harrison and tecumseh at vincennes.) the outing magazine “it was no accident that made william for that purpose, and should the united henry harrison the first governor of in states be at war with any european na- diana territory,” theodore roosevelt has tions who are known to the indians, there said, and to those who believe in the direct would probably be a combination of more intervention of providence, the sequence than nine-tenths of the northwest tribes of events will amply justify the declara against us unless some means are made use tion. to appreciate the difficulties with of to conciliate them.” which he was surrounded would require though opportunities of growing im- a chapter in history. but we may say that mensely rich, in the transfer from the in- the questions of slavery and indian lands dians to the government, and subsequently were the most important ones with which to settlers, of millions of acres, were harri- he had to deal. though it had been pro son's, his private fortune never profited. vided that slavery should never become an moreover, he succeeded in bringing about institution of the territory north of the such a reform in the disposition of lands ohio, yet the settlers from the slave states as allowed the poor man to buy in smaller were in the majority, and harrison, him tracts than had been previously possible, self from a slaveholding family, gave his and even induced some of the more friendly aid to the various schemes for its establish tribes to build homes and practice a rude ment in some form. but as settlers from sort of agriculture. his success in open- the eastern states began to pour in and soon ing the lands restored his popularity, and formed a great majority, the popularity his fairness had won the favor of the most of the young governor from virginia rapidly easterly tribes when in september, , waned, and he soon lost the confidence of he concluded a treaty with the miamis, those opposed to the extension of slave kickapoos, delawares and pottawatomies, territory. but he was heart and soul with which greatly excited the wrath of tecum- the best interests of those whom he gov seh. erned, and when satisfied that the domi that wily savage and his brother, the nant party were against bondage, he with prophet, had by this time perfected a drew his influence from the pro-slavery league which bound together all the tribes faction. occupying land as far west and north as upon one question, however, all the set the mississippi and the boundaries of can- tlers were in harmony, and that was the ada. nor was there lacking much that acquisition of the numerous tracts of rich was laudable in tecumseh's aim. he land which the indians still held. there sought to rescue the indians from the pollu- lay harrison's chance to win back his lost tion of the white man's whiskey and de- prestige and popularity, and he eagerly basing morals, and from the wiles of cheat- seized it. from washington he obtained ing traders. but he wished to restore leave to make such new treaties as he their primeval condition, and to that end deemed best for his new territory, and it is he discouraged agriculture and denounced greatly to his credit that he conducted all the sale of land. negotiations of purchase with a justice in the summer of the prophet had and a fairness never before known, and dis established a village on the banks of the countenanced and punished all swindling wabash near the mouth of tippecanoe schemes of government agents. he who creek. hither flocked warriors from all soon to so completely break their sav the western tribes to listen to his incanta- age power proved himself at this time an tions and prophecies. here, too, tecum- active friend of the indians as against the seh harangued his allies, promising the unfair treatment of the whites. he re restoration of lands and the final disap- ported to washington a long list of wrongs, pearance of the whites. signs of unrest and in wrote with the spirit of proph now began to appear among all the tribes. ecy: “all these injuries the indians have when the treaty of september, , by hitherto borne with astonishing patience. which were alienated nearly three million but though they discover no disposition to acres of land in the basin of the wabash, be- make war against the united states, i am came known to tecumseh, his resentment confident tnat host of the tribes would knew no bounds. signs of disturbance be- eagerly seize any favorable opportunity came more marked and the more westerly general harrison, the hero of tippecanoe settlers became greatly alarmed. te teer riflemen from kentucky. he united cumseh, it was rumored, had counseled with these a regiment of united states the killing of the chiefs that signed that regulars and marched at once to the neigh- treaty. evidence of preparation for an borhood of the prophet's village. such outbreak on the part of the indians was energy and celerity had not been looked not wanting, and soon it was discovered for. the prophet was taken by surprise. that agents of the british governor of he professed peace and asked for another canada were supplying the tribes with “talk.” to this harrison acceded. but arms and powder. by the summer of as an old indian fighter who had been the more eastern tribes brought in trained in the school of mad anthony, he terpretations of the prophet's ravings and took every precaution against treachery. soothsayings to harrison. he was quick nothing came of the parley. again the to act, but tried to be just. he denounced prophet professed amity; but harrison the prophet as an evil counselor and an insisted that the savages must at once dis- impostor to the neighboring indians, and band. his army camped that night (nov. arranged a “talk” with the two indian , ) on an open plain about a mile brothers by which he sought to pacify from the prophet's village. everything them. at that interview the wily tecum had been done by that chief to disarm seh declared himself the true friend of suspicion, but the soldiers were ordered to the governor and the nation. he wished sleep upon their arms. a little creek lay only, he said, the restoration of the lands in harrison's rear; its banks were covered by the great chief at washington. he with trees and thick bushes. in front ex- made a long and eloquent appeal, but tended a marshy prairie. it was a spot when harrison in reply refused all his de well adapted for the methods of indian mands, tecumseh for once lost control of warfare, and harrison was afterward much his temper. he threw aside his blanket, criticised by his political opponents for and at a sign his attending warriors lifted camping there. their tomahawks. only harrison's un a little before four o'clock on the morn- flinching nerve, coolness and bravery pre ing of the th, just as harrison had ordered vented a massacre. nothing came of the the soldiers to be aroused, the sentinel interview, and in the spring of the nearest the creek fired. the report of his indians began the stealing of horses and gun was answered by war whoops, the sav- the plundering of homes. harrison sent ages came rushing upon the camp and the word to tecumseh that unless this was im famous battle of tippecanoe had begun. mediately stopped he should attack the it was still quite dark and the fires of the indians with troops. but tecumseh was camp aided the savages in their aim. the not yet ready for war. the indians of the soldiers suffered heavily before the fires south had not been won over to his league. could be extinguished. there were signs again he professed the greatest friendship, of wavering, but harrison thundered his and then immediately with twenty war commands, steadied his men and seemed riors he hastened to the far south to invoke to be everywhere at once in the thick of the creeks, choctaws and chickasaws. the fight. in many places there were hand but unfortunately for his own hopes he to hand conflicts, but the savages were left at a time when his restraining presence finally pushed back to cover. for two was needed. the war spirit of the braves hours the fight raged stubbornly - the had been aroused and outrages continued. troops suffering more than the indians. in september, while tecumseh was still but as daylight grew, harrison ordered a away organizing his league in the south, bayonet charge into the timber and brush, harrison received word that the settlement and the savages were thus driven from of vincennes was greatly alarmed. thou- as they fled they fell in great sands of braves from many tribes were re- numbers under the accurate fire of the ported to be at the village of the prophet, kentucky rifles, and soon the defeat be- and the war dance was thought to be on. came a rout decisive and thorough. harrison hurried at once to vincennes and next day harrison burned the prophet's there gathered a respectable force of fron village and provisions and led his troops tiersmen, among whom were many volun back to vincennes. they had suffered cover. the outing magazine had a severely, but the complete victory had warfare, conflagrations, tortures, massa- been worth the price. the tribes to the cres followed. proctor, the british com- north and west had found the prophet's mander, was a fiend in human shape who soothsayings and tecumseh's promises made no effort to mitigate the ferocity of vain and visionary, and many fell away his red allies led by tecumseh. settlers from the league. but for harrison's time were butchered, scalped, burned at the ly move, his vigilance, courage and fight- stake, without regard to age or sex. the ing qualities, the indian confederacy had malevolent proctor even gave to the vio- been solidified, and a few months more lence and fury of the indians one garrison would have arrayed all the tribes north and which had surrendered only on the pledge south against the united states and in aid of his protection. of the british in the war of . in the desperate state of affairs all the commander less determined, active and west clamored for the hero of tippeca- brave been in the place of harrison at noe, and harrison was at length appointed tippecanoe creek, and defeat then ensued, commander-in-chief in that region, with the basin of the ohio and upper mississippi almost dictatorial powers, and with orders would in all probability have been de to protect the settlers and retake detroit. populated. that vast stretch of country he was the idol of his brave but undisci- owes few men more than it owes the hero plined frontier troops. he shared with of tippecanoe. the common soldiers all their fatigues, as a soldier he was not so brilliant as dangers, hardships and privations, and wayne, and tippecanoe was less skillfully toiled, starved and froze with them. all fought than wayne's great battle with the his private baggage was carried in a small indians. but it was a stubborn fight, its carpet sack. the general himself showed consequence was of equal import, and it that he was the veriest frontiersman. gave harrison a more enduring fame and space is denied us to follow this arduous popularity than mad anthony had won. campaign. harrison fought at first with it was chiefly tippecanoe that carried its varying success, but at length the british hero to the height of political position and were compelled to relinquish detroit and power. all the conquered american territory. tecumseh returned from the south, commodore perry's great victory on lake where he had aroused the creeks, to find erie compelled them to retreat into can- his long-cherished plans withered just as ada. hither harrison followed with eager- they were to ripen. broken-hearted, but ness and celerity. proctor and tecumseh more full of hate than ever, he gathered awaited him in a strong position on the what warriors he could from the demoral banks of the thames river not far from ized tribes and passed north into canada, lake st. clair. here was fought, on oct. to become a british ally in the war of the , , the bloody battle of the thames. year following—the inglorious war of . the british regulars, forming the enemy's as such, a short but stirring career awaited left, were drawn up in a thick wood on the him, a career that was to end on a field of river bank. the right flank was composed battle against the man who had ruined his of about , braves under tecumseh, confederacy and his hopes. sheltered in and behind a swamp. it was the story of the war of is not in a battle front cleverly and strongly ar- spiriting reading to those who love their ranged, but harrison formed his men skill- country. it is a history of mismanage- fully and attacked with vigor and without ment, incompetency, imbecility and the hesitation. at the critical moment colonel bitter hate of political parties. in the johnson, having obtained permission from west at first almost everything went wrong. harrison, ordered the british forces charged general hull, an antiquated officer of the with part of his mounted kentuckians. revolution, pusillanimously surrendered these fearless and hardy frontiersmen detroit without firing a gun, and so lost dashed forward with such impetuosity that all michigan and much of what is they drove the gunners from the enemy's illinois and indiana. the british and artillery and broke through both lines of their savage confederates overran the con the regulars and took proctor's force in quered territory, and the horrors of indian the rear. attacked row on both sides, now general harrison, the hero of tippecanoe the british were thrown into great confu anecdotes illustrative of his good-na- sion and almost all surrendered. proctor, ture, courage and energy are still current their commander, in fear of having to in the regions to which he gave so many answer for his brutal massacres, fled in his of his best years. they tell how in his carriage, and when nearly overtaken by campaigns he would refuse comforts that the van of the american cavalry leaped from his men could not have, and how, as in the coach and escaped alone into the woods. moments of danger he was always the most colonel johnson in the meantime led the cool, so in moments of despair he was al- remaining kentucky horsemen through ways the most cheerful. once when the the swamp, dismounted them and attack horses had given out in a march through ing the indians in the rear, drove them the forests, in a spirit of fun he had the out on the american firing line, where they troopers throw their saddles over the limbs were shot down in masses. the valiant of the trees, and mounting in their rocking and savage tecumseh had no thought of seats give a mirthful broadsword exhibi- flight like the craven proctor, but fought tion to the soldiers of how they were to furiously to the last. when the battle cleave the enemies' skulls. again, once field was surveyed the great chief was when his little army was floundering in found shot through that heart that had the wooded swamps on the banks of the beat with so many high hopes a id so much au glaise, a black night suddenly fell with of bitter hate. to johnsc : ard his ken a drenching rain. no fires could be built, tuckians belongs chiefly the glory of a no shelter made, for the axes were with the victory which brought peace and quiet to baggage train in the rear; but the general the west. had one of the officers sing a favorite hi- general harrison was now one of the bernian song, and joined lustily with the most popular men in the whcle nation. soldiers in the refrain: his subsequent career is familiar to all "night's the time for mirth and glee ; readers. having no claim to brilliant come, sing and dance and laugh with me.” genius, nor much book knowledge, he yet had great capacity and many talents, and he cultivated the friendliest spirit with all was known as a brave, liberal, honest, sin of his frontier soldiers, wore a buckskin cere, good and just man. he became dis- jacket, was the keenest of woodsmen and tinguished as an honorable and a useful in moments of leisure made real compan- statesman. as congressman and senator ions of his men. he would swing an axe, he was noted for his moderation, sagacity, hunt the deer or coon, and he shot with soundness and unimpeachable integrity. the best. the best. his homely, hardy ways won the campaign in which harrison was their love as his daring stimulated their elected president and tyler vice-president courage. for half a century he was the was one of the most active and exciting archetype of pioneers, as lincoln came to that the nation ever passed through. be to the generation that came after. even those who lament the comparatively mod yet the magic word of "tippecanoe" will erate rivalry between the political parties stir the reminiscences of many octogena- of to-day know nothing of the rancor and rians in the middle west. contempt with which whigs and demo president harrison gathered around him crats of old regarded each other. one of the strongest cabinets ever formed, general harrison was affectionately with webster as its chief, and much was called “old tip” by his devoted followers; expected of his administration. but the their emblem was the log cabin in which old hero was worn out with hard work, and he had lived in the west, and their political just one month after his inauguration died slogan was, from his great indian victory, on the th of april, , in the sixty- "tippecanoe and tyler too.” eighth year of his age. the silver fox by lawrence mott w then the days were short and the and he laid on a few more boughs over his forest bare of leaves, when au one-man lean-to. soon he was asleep and tumnal colors had gone, leaving the night passed on, cold and dismal. the brown trunks and the dark green of pines snow ceased and the wind came stronger and firs; when the caribou called hoarsely and stronger, shrilling in the hemlocks with on the barren lands and the beaver worked long-drawn sounds. by the first signs of to get in their winter supply, then sebat light sebat had his fire going again, and gathered the few steel traps he had, packed when the frugal breakfast was over he some food, his blanket and two shirts shouldered his load and went on. late in around them, slung the whole on his axe the afternoon of the next day he stopped handle, tossed the bundle to his shoulder, suddenly, while passing through a musky picked up his carbine and started from fort swamp. à la corne for lac le rouge through the “silvare fox?" and he got down on his wilderness. knees by a log that had fallen outward the day was dark and a raw wind mut from the timber. he searched the bark tered among the tall tops. keenly. “hm!” he snorted as he traveled rapidly "ha!" he carefully drew a long gray on. “dat facteur daniele he tink he h’ave hair from the rough edges. som’ting for not’ing. ah goin' see dat “ha-ha! by diable, dat wan nombair murchee-son h’at le rouge, mabbe so he wan silvaire fox," he muttered. “dat mor' honorable.” feller mus' be leeven clos'. s'posin' ovaire around windfalls, down ravines, up the dere een dat spleet rock, hein?" then he rough river beaches, over low mountain answered his own questions. runs, past lakes and the dead water “certain! ah goin' get dat fine animal stretches of streams, he plodded on. leetle mor' late, w'en snow deep!" always the wind mourned and the forest at dusk he reached the company's post was deserted save for a hurrying rabbit at lac le rouge. now and then and sometimes a fleeting “bojou-bojou, michele," he said, push- glimpse that he got of a caribou, its thud ing open the door of a little log house. ding feet rustling in the depths of frosted the man looked up startled. “eh? leaves. he camped that night near the ben dat you, sebat! ah tink you down hudson bay post at green lake, but he à la corne." did not go in there because he knew that "jus' so, but ah no lak de facteur; ah’m the factor was short of trappers and would comen' le rouge for trappen' dees wintare; try to make him stay. for mek beeg lot monnaie, go see annette "de troubl weet dees compagnie,” he and dose petits ah got,” and he chuckled. whispered as he boiled some tea by the “par dieu, you know ah got seez! t'ree little fire, "ees dat les facteurs dey fighten' garcons, an' t'ree filles!" the other too much wan noddaire for mak' beeges' laughed. lot monnaie; d'indians no get 'nough for dat all ver' bon w'en you got strong h'eat an' die. sacrée," he spoke aloud in han's for worrk; s'posen' you seeck, w'at his vehemence, “dey no goin' starrve sebat, happen?" dat sure!” and he ate his supper. tiny "ah dun-no," sebat answered, and his snowflakes dropped into the firelight as he face sank; then brightened, "ah'm strrong finished. feller manee year yet!" "snow? she come earlee dees saison,” michele poitrin lighted his pipe. the silver fox par dieu!" "you get suppaire ef you want, hein?" lapping one another. across from the they talked long, for they were old post islands stood out black and lonely, friends; then sebat went to the store. only their outlines visible in the darkness. "bojou, m'sieu murcheeson.” as the first signs of day came, pale green the factor, at his desk behind the coun and scarlet in the east, the post was awake. ter, nodded, and sebat glanced about the after breakfast sebat went over to the whitewashed and raftered interior. store again. a few “outside" trappers, one or two “geef me twent' pound flour, t'ree canadians and a lot of indians squatted pound tea, ten pound porrk an’ wan pound and stood round, talking in low, soft voices. salt!” the air was thick with the reek of pipes; the clerk weighed each article and put candles lighted the scene. the amount in his ledger. “sebat duval murchison looked up: "what is't ye'r four dollars and twelve cents.” the voice wantin'?” was apathetic and dull. sebat gazed at the little scotchman from “how dat?" his towering height. “those are our prices! take it — or "ah’m tinkin' mak' hunt for you dees leave it!” the big trapper started to push wintaire.” the food back, thought better of it and "trapan' welcome,” murchison chuckled; tucked the packages under his arms. then in a whisper to the clerk, “we'll have “you goin' see!” he called over his the grreatest lot o' skins ever come out the shoulder,“ah’m no indian for mak'starrve, deestrict this year! they're all flockin' to us." his subordinate acquiesced wearily the clerk paid no attention, and sebat and continued to add rows of small figures went back to michele's. that danced before his eyes as the candle “ah'm goin' by churcheel riviere to- in front of him guttered and wavered. day," he said, packing his supplies and "d'ye want some grub?" outfit. “ai-hai” (yes). sebat walked over to “w'at for dere?” the counter and brought his fist down with sebat looked about the yard. “beeg a crackling thump. lot fur la bas,” he whispered “mabbe ah "an' ah wan' grub at de 'line' cost! get-den h'ave plent' monnaie, go home, ha-ha! you see sebat he know w'at de see annette an' de leetle wans.' cost ees at de 'line,' an' w'at dey geef for “b’en, au’woir,” michele called as sebat: skeens dere aussi.” started, snowshoes, axe, traps, food, blan- the factor stared. the store was silent kets in a firm pack-load on his back, tump —then murchison's eyes narrowed, but he line over his forehead. he waved his turned to his desk without further remark. hand, and disappeared among the hemlock, “h'm!” sebat snorted again, and went on the lake trail. out. “dat murcheeson ees 'fraid h'of every two hours or so he would rest, me!” he announced proudly, entering either propping his heavy load on a high- michele's hut. fallen tree, or slipping it to the ground; “you bessis tak’ care h’of dat mans! then he would smoke, his eyes coursing he h'ave wan hearrt lak'-" michele through the forest the while, noting every- took up a stone hammer and slammed it thing. he saw the shuffling, padded track on the floor—"dat." of a bear, and noted that the footprints sebat laughed. “ah don' tink he goin' were far apart. hurrt me!” and the two rolled up in their "he goin' fast, looken' for place sleep blankets on the little bough beds. wintaire,” he muttered. on a ridge he outside, dogs yowled singly and in was crossing later he found a moose trail unison; the long-drawn wails echoing and leading to the river beyond; he followed re-echoing fainter and fainter in the silent it, and crossed the stream at a shallow forests. they listened to their own voices, ford. then yelped on. “de moose dey know w'ere good place,” the waters of the lake rolled noiselessly; he chuckled as he waded to his knees. sometimes breaking on the shingle with at noon the next day he reached the chill whisperings; then curling liquidly, spot he wished to camp on, at churchill the outing magazine river, and he soon had a strong lean-to on the white of the north and creating deep, built. black shadows. the following weeks were spent in setting as he slept there came a fox by the lean- traps, and collecting his fur, that was not to. it stopped, seeing the embers of the plentiful as luck seemed against him. then fire, and stood there, motionless, head he had no more cartridges or food and he lifted, dainty pointed ears thrown forward went back to the post. michele was away inquiringly; its silvered coat reflecting the trapping; so were nearly all the indians, light rays that crept through the spruce save for a few decrepit old men and squaws branches above. the fox sniffed high, that sewed moccasins and made snow then low and vanished noiselessly. shoes. “hah! fox, by gar!” sebat said next he took his fur to the factor. twelve morning when he started out to set his beaver, seven sable, three red fox, two traps, seeing the track. sable, one marten, five mink and eighteen all day he worked. down by the frozen musk-rat. stream he put out three “steels,” cunningly “eighteen dollars,” murchison said hidden by snow that looked as if it had abruptly examining the skins. fallen naturally. this he did by gathering “non!” sebat shouted. "for’-five dol it on boughs, and tossing it in the air over laires!” the trap; the bait lay tempting on top. the scotchman looked at him. in other places he put dead-falls for “ye'r crazy, man,” he said quietly. marten and sable, and at the last took off “mabbe ah'm crazee, but you no get the tump line (that he used for a belt), dose skeens les dan w'at ah say!” sprung down a sturdy young birch, and “take 'em away then, and get out my fixed a noose on a caribou trail. as he store.” shuffled home, his snowshoes clinking "ah wan' grub!" sharply, he talked aloud. “so that's it, is't? ye want this and “dat murchee-son? saprée, he wan that and t'other for naething! get out, i voleur! he don' get my fur fur h'eighteen tell ye!" dollaires! b'en non!” murchison kept three beaver and a mar the sound of his voice was deadened by ten, the best of the lot. the snow-laden branches. “that's for the grub ye got afore." day after day he went to his traps, and “by diable, down h’at de 'line' dey always the same result—nothing. geef - sometimes the bait was stolen (this was “i don't care what they give at the line! bad as he did not have any to spare); again i'm running this place, and what i say the traps were sprung, but no body was stands, d'ye hear?” between the sharp jaws. his food grew sullenly sebat took the other skins and lower and lower; then he ate but once a went away. day, saving his scanty supply. by dint of coaxing and threatening he "mus' go back to-mor'," he whispered got a little flour here, some tea there, thus mournfully. a thought came. he took eking out enough food for a two weeks' off his fur cap. hunt. it was late; he slept that night in “bon dieu, dees pauv'r sebat h’ave michele's hut. the next morning the not'ing, onlee annette an' seex child'en! ground was deep with snow; he put on the he wan' for go see dem, an' mus' catch dat caribou-thonged snowshoes and started for silvaire fox for to go dere.” satisfied he the silver fox. slept. the way was long and slow, the traveling the morning dawned red and calm, with hard, and the cold bitter in its strength. the sting of frost and the silence of day- the white surfaces were indented by light. as soon as he could see, sebat went tracks, even and stretching away somberly the mile to the musky swamp for the last into the depths of the trees. time. he looked, rubbed his eyes, and sebat came at last to the muskeg swamp stared. a few yards from the timber edge and built his camp. he ate sparingly, was a dark body; attached to one of its then slepts by starts while another winter's hind legs a steel trap, chain and clog. night passed, the moon shining mystically “de silvaire fox!” he cried and ran out. the outing magazine a sense of warmth, of unutterable com he dragged the fox to his face. the fur fort, came over him. felt warm and soft. "ah'm tire','he whispered, as he felt the "annette-annette,” he murmured, "so drowsiness creep on his giant irame; and manee, manee leetle childen!” he lay still. the snow fell seething on the still figure; “ah mus' go, ah mus' go!” he gasped, covering it lightly at first, then blending and tried to move; but the peace and its shape with the whiteness of every- luxurious rest his body felt was too great thing. finally the place was level with and his brain could enforce no action. the rest. the wind shrieked spasmodi- “ah’m goin' die heredie ici-jus' here cally and the white clouds tossed and alon'!” drifted. the buccaneers drake and the "golden hind" by john r. spears frontispiece drawing by n. c. wyeth t whose who in these days have given repeated the voyage and gained fame-he particular attention to the doings was knighted for his success as a smug- of the buccaneers as related by gler. a third voyage was planned on a joseph esquemeling, are fully agreed with still greater scale. on this voyage went him in his statement that a chief inciting francis drake. the expedition included a cause of the ferocious raids on the span- squadron of six vessels, whereof the jesus iards was the very great success of pierre of lubeck, a ship of seven hundred tons, le grand. but back of pierre le grand carried the flag. was a tale of strenuous adventure that had having secured full cargoes of negroes come down from the preceding century,, on the coast of africa the expedition sailed and which was told and retold in every to the caribbean coast of south america, thatched hut and on every ship of the where at rio de la hacha and at carta- region where the meat hunters and log- gena the slaves were sold at an enormous wood cutters were gathered together-the profit. but when the expedition was story of the luck of sir francis drake, and homeward bound a storm drove the ships the gold and silver that he captured on the into the port of vera cruz, on the coast isthmus of panama and the south sea. of mexico. then a spanish squadron ar- sir francis began life as a common rived. the english ships were so located sailor, but a relative, sir john hawkins, that they might have kept the spaniards who had also been a common sailor, had out of the harbor, but as a gale was blow- made a voyage to the african coast in ing, the spaniards promised to allow the , where he gathered a cargo of negro english to depart in peace, and the im- slaves whom he carried to the west in- periled squadron off shore was allowed to dies, and, eluding the officials, sold at an enter. but on finding themselves much immense profit to the spanish planters. superior in force to the english the span- having thus acquired a fortune, hawkins iards repudiated their agreement, and on the outing magazine rones by the spaniards because they were runaway slaves who could not be cap- tured) now undertook piloting the eng- lishmen overland to panama in order that they might learn when the pack-mule trains of treasure would leave for nombre de dios. so many of the englishmen had been killed in battle or had died of disease that after a guard for the ships was pro- vided but eighteen men could be mustered for the overland expedition. neverthe- less, with cheerful hearts the little band started forth and for seven days worked laboriously, hewing their way over forest- covered mountains and across tangled swamps. finally as they neared the city they came to a large hill, on the crest of which grew a ceiba tree that towered high above the surrounding forest. here they paused while drake, at the suggestion of the negro guide, climbed up among the many clinging vines until he reached a limb where his view was unobstructed, and looking away to the south saw for the first time the waters of the south sea. it was such a view as vasco nuñez de balboa had when crossing the isthmus from the gulf of darien, sixty years before, and, filled with a feeling he could not describe, drake raised his hands toward heaven and begged almighty god "to give him life and leave to sail an english ship in those seas.” after drake descended from the tree a spy was sent into panama, who learned that on that very night the treasurer of lima was to leave panama for nombre de dios with eight mules loaded with gold, five with silver and one with pearls and other jewels. fortune seemed now within the grasp of the adventurers. hastening to the twelve-foot trail that led across the isthmus, drake and his men hid in am- bush and waited till they heard the bells of the advancing mules. the watchers knew very well there was to be a train of these animals loaded with cheap mer- chandise in advance of the treasure train, but as these were passing the ambush, one, robert pike, rose up to look at a horseman who, with a page by his side, was riding along the trail. as an eye-witness said, pike had “drunk too much aqua-vita without water." a "symeron discreetly endeavored to pull him down and lay upon him to prevent further discovery,” but the englishmen had put their shirts over their coats to prevent mistakes when fighting at night, and the spaniard "taking notice of one all in white, put spurs to his horse both to secure himself and give notice to others of the danger.” seeing the spaniard gallop away drake and his men boldly attacked the train, but the guards made off with the treasure, and all they captured were a few hundred pounds of base metal hardly worth the trouble of carrying. dashing down the trail drake captured cruces, a little village on the chagres river, but gained nothing there, and was obliged to retreat to his ships empty-handed. then fortune turned. as he cruised along the coast he fell in with a french ship, and it was agreed with her captain, that another attempt should be made to capture a treasure train. twenty men from the frenchman and fifteen under drake accordingly landed and made their way to the neighborhood of nombre de dios. the “flota” was still in port, and the next day at dawn a train of one hun- dred and ninety mules was stopped in the road and looted. in the packs they found fifteen tons of silver and nearly as much of gold. the quantity was more than the company, including the negro guides, could carry, but most of the gold was taken away and placed on the ships, after which a party returned for the bullion that had been hidden in the brush. the spaniards had made a pretty good search of the locality, but the party found thirteen bars of silver and several wedges of gold with which they returned to the ships. the expedition then returned home and reached plymouth during the forenoon of sunday, august , . the people were all at church, but as the news of the arrival spread through the town everybody flocked down to the beach. the interest in an expedition that had returned home from the spanish main was strong enough to overcome all conscientious scruples. it was not until that a new expe- dition was fitted out. drake now had ample means, but he was willing to permit his friends to share in the expense of his more hazardous ventures. the fleet as fitted out numbered five, of which the pelican was the flagship, and the chris- topher, a vessel of fifteen tons, was the the buccaneers smallest. that men were found ready to valparaiso had then a population of start on a voyage to the west coast of only nine families, but it afforded a wel- south america in a vessel of fifteen tons come store of provisions, and in the church is a fact that seems particularly memorable they found a silver chalice, two cruets and in these modern days of great ocean liners. a valuable altar cloth which they took and the total number of men in the fleet was gave to chaplain fletcher, the "sky pilot" one hundred and sixty-four. of the expedition. with his five little ships drake left ply two incidents of the passage north of mouth on november , , worked his valparaiso gave the sailors memorable no- way down the coast of africa, doing some tions of the riches of the region. having little damage to spanish fishermen on the constructed a small pinnace with which way, and then ran across to the coast of to explore shoal water, a landing was made south america. there they saw the na near tarapaza, and a spaniard was found tives and had a fight with them, in which asleep near the beach with thirteen bars one red man and two of drake's company of silver beside him, “as if waiting their were killed. mr. doughty, who had been arrival." having disposed of this silver a close friend of drake, was beheaded the sailors went searching for water and “like a gentleman” at port st. julian for stumbled on a boy who was driving eight mutiny. on this coast, too, the prizes llamas. each beast was burdened with were disposed of, and two of the original two bags presumably made of raw-hide, ships were broken up to make the fleet and in each bag they found fifty pounds more compact. then they rounded the weight of silver, or eight hundred pounds cape of the virgins, little dreaming that all told. the finding of the silver on the the sands along that beach were full of beach and this train-load of bullion in gold, and entered the strait of magellan. charge of a mere boy (it was worth more it was a voyage of unalloyed wonder. than £ , in england, and yet it was they were the first englishmen to pass that unguarded) impressed the sailors more way. drake entered the strait on august than the capture of the gold in the ship at , , and sailed out on the broad pa valparaiso. in no other country of the cific on september th-a most expeditious world were the precious metals guarded passage and in honor of his arrival there so carelessly as that. he renamed his ship the golden hind. at arica two or three small vessels were hind, in those days, was a term applied to rifled, and then they went in pursuit of a domestic servants, and drake believed that treasure-ship of which they had heard. his ship was now to serve him well with but when they overtook her they found gold-and so she did. the marigold, how that her crew had been warned and had ever, one of the smaller ships, foundered landed her bullion-eight hundred bars of in a gale. then the captain of the eliza- silver. at callao, however, where a small beth, a ship that had been named in honor fleet of spanish ships was plundered, drake of the good queen, weakened, and against heard of another treasure-ship, the caca- the protests of his men turned back and fuego, that was on the way to panama, and sailed for home, leaving the stout-hearted he went in chase of her with such eager drake alone on the great south sea. haste that when the wind failed the boats the first prize was made on december were manned and the ship was towed th. in heading for valparaiso they over along, ‘each man straining to reach the ran the bay, but an indian taken on the golden goal.” coast piloted them back, and they found a in the meantime the presence of the ship in the harbor that was named the golden hind had alarmed the whole coast grand captain of the south sea. it was an as far as she had come, though the authori- easy prize. the idea of an enemy sailing ties supposed that she was a spanish ship into those waters had never entered the in the possession of mutineers. the vice- spanish mind, and she was unarmed. in roy, don francisco de toledo, hearing that her hold drake found , pesos of gold, the golden hind was at the port of lima, and a gold peso was a coin worth $ . . hastened there with two thousand men, in addition there were jewels, merchan and arrived in time to see her sailing away, dise and , jars of chili wine. but nearly becalmed. thereupon he filled the outing magazine with men two vessels that drake had sel was taken in which was found "a falcon neglected to destroy, and went in pursuit of finely wrought gold, in the breast of a fresh breeze having sprung up to help which a large emerald was set,” but the him on the way. just before he arrived memorable prize of the voyage was the within range the golden hind caught the cacafuego. having thereafter searched for breeze and a most exciting race followed. and failed to find a northwest passage to but when leaving port the spaniards had the atlantic, drake trimmed his sails for neglected to stow any provisions on their home by the way of the philippines and ships, and hunger at last compelled them the cape of good hope. he arrived at to abandon the chase. plymouth on september th, or there- eager for the cacafuego, drake carried abouts, . on the th of april, , all sail until in the neighborhood of paita, drake was knighted for his success, and where a pause of sufficient length was made that was the last event in his career of to capture a number of coasters, from which particular interest to the story of the some silver bars, eighty pounds weight of buccaneers, although he once more sailed gold and a gold crucifix set "with a good to the spanish main, and died at last and ly and great emerald,” were found. one was buried at sea in a metal coffin just off prize also had a large quantity of ropes puerto bello. and other stores of the utmost use to the boucan makers and the logwood the englishmen, because their ship needed cutters, as they sat in their thatched huts refitting. on the banks of the streams that. emptied having learned here that the treasure into the caribbean sea, told how drake ship was but two days ahead of him, drake with two small vessels went to the isth- now offered the gold chain that he usually mus of panama and with twenty-five men wore as a prize to the first one to report landed and captured a treasure-train be- her, and at three o'clock in the afternoon hind nombre de dios from which he ob- of march , , his brother john won the tained nearly fifteen tons of gold. it was chain. the cacafuego was overhauled off a story that appealed to the french cape san francisco, and she was as easy woodsmen as well as to the english, for as the ship taken at valparaiso. her cap the french had outnumbered the english tain, a biscayan named juan de anton, on when this gold was taken. they told seeing a ship in chase, hove to and awaited also, over and again, how drake had sailed her, supposing that it was from the viceroy the golden hind on the great south sea, with important messages. but when he where silver was held so cheap that it was saw his error he made all sail, and although left lying around on the beach in bars as he had no guns, he fled until his mizzen- big as a man could carry, and was trans- mast was shot away and he was himself ported by the hundredweight around the wounded by an arrow. country with only a boy to drive the beasts from the cacafuego drake obtained of burden. moreover it was a land of twenty-six tons of silver bars, thirteen many jewels. in the belief of these buc- chests of coined silver, and eighty pounds caneers the towns of the spanish ameri- avoirdupois of gold, besides many jewels. cas were rich beyond the dreams of ava- the story of the subsequent movements rice, and in some cases this belief was well of the golden hind may be briefly told founded. to add to the longing which the here because they had but little influence old tales of adventure created, came the on the buccaneers. drake coasted along story of pierre le grand's marvelous suc- shore to the north, taking prizes here and that was an adventure worth while, there. the ancient chronicle, in one place, and what the buccaneers did when they speaks of coined money measured by the heard of it shall be told in the following bushel. on the coast of nicaragua a ves chapters. cess. the view-point by caspar whitney have returned from the orinoco english and american 'varsity oarsmen river headwaters, and the guaha have met at this distance; in har- ribos indians-a hostile people hostile people vard's plucky, though ill-prepared, four among whom no other man has yet ven was beaten six seconds by oxford in tured- just in time to steal space in minutes, - seconds. the crew har- this issue for a few words. my trip vard sends this time will probably be the proved to be a severe but a most interest identical one that beat yale, and there ing one of some three thousand miles, is every reason to believe the men will about eighteen hundred by canoe with paddle to the start september th pre- half of the paddling against the increas- pared to do themselves justice. ingly strong currents of rising rivers. i am strong in my belief that, barring yet it was the “real thing,” and to me, accidents, harvard will defeat cambridge. therefore, fascinating and thoroughly en since my first studies of english rowing, joyable, with more of incident than any i have always believed that an average wilderness journey i have ever made. harvard, yale or cornell eight could beat i think its story will attract you when an average oxford or cambridge crew i tell it later. this was my fourth ex over a four-mile course, on any water. pedition into south america and the i believe that the american stroke, as fulfillment of my plan to ascend its great exhibited by any one of these three col- rivers; cross its ragged mountains and leges, is better at four miles. also i its naked, shimmering plains; explore its think english rowing has been standing dense forests and its noisome swamps; still, if not retrograding, during the last and to seek acquaintance with the wild half dozen years, while american skill in life, human and otherwise, wherever and that time has been advancing. unless whenever i found it. returning, thus, my eyes have been playing me sad tricks to civilized life, i find san francisco, of (and my jungle shooting recently has happy memory, all but obliterated from shown my right eye not to be above the map; the grand challenge cup lost such baseness), english crews, judged by to england; yale beaten by harvard's their henley performances of late years, equally good stroke and better crew; appear to think swing the beginning and and the decency of college baseball sur end and all of rowing. so there is swing rendered to the ruling commercial spirit at the expense of leg drive, at the ex- which is raiding our already too small pense of speed in the boat which does stock of sportsmen. not run between strokes as it did ten i shall have something to say next years ago. month in reply to the illogical, weak ex it will do english rowing good to get planation offered by the brown faculty a jolt, and if all goes well in the prepara- in defence of its unexampled support of tory period, i think harvard will just professionalism in college sport; some about supply that necessary shock. thing to say also of the coward's part speaking of henley recalls the lessons being played in collegiate athletic legis- of , the scandalous action of the ves- lation by columbia and those others that per club and crew, and the consequent are scrambling under cover because it resolutions of the stewards. there is looks like rain! much i wish to write on these subjects, which must await more space next harvard good luck to the harvard month; at this time only can i say, that will beat crew that will race cam- cambridge i sympathize with the english view of bridge over the serpentine, if henley (though not entirely with its classic, oxford-cambridge thames course expression), and ask that america be (four miles, three furlongs), september judged by harvard, and not by the th! it will be the second time only that vespers. school and college world football for or forward pass it the removal of this one restriction is of the committee finally chosen to not likely to encourage passing to any overhaul the game was made most deli notable extent, although it may keep cate and difficult by the bombardment the defense on the anxious seat. the of opinions from every quarter. one new rule is hedged about with "ifs'' and faction of excited college officials was “buts" that will make it a most hazard- for wiping out the game. another ous play, to undertake. one forward ardently clamored for a game reduced pass is allowed on a play, provided the to the innocuous mildness of checkers ball does not touch the ground before croquet. the problem facing the being touched by a player of either side, men who had the game in hand was of and this forward pass may be made by saving its best features while trying to any man who was behind the line of eliminate the monotonous prevalence scrimmage when the ball was put in play. of massed plays in which beef had been but it may not be made to any man who steadily advancing in value, of pun was on the line of scrimmage, except the ishing brutal and unfair tactics, of de two men playing on the end, nor may the vising a more rigid supervision of the ball be passed over the rush line within contestants, and of giving variety to a a space of five yards on each side of the game which had become an exhausting point where it was put in play. if the and machine-like business wholly unfit ball touches the ground before touching for a campus pastime. a player, it goes to the opponents on the in endeavoring to steer a course through spot where the forward pass was made. vexed and troubled waters, the commit- tee was forced to work out experimental rules, some of them seemingly very com- plex, which must serve a probation, as this luckless “forward pass" seems to it were, until they are tried out. to have been almost smothered to death the average follower of football, the main under a burden of restrictions. it makes issue seemed to be the weakening of the an impressive show on paper, and be- defense along with the opening up of tokens that the legislators were not try- the play by forcing more varied offensive ing to save gray matter. otherwise it tactics. does not appear to amount to much, and it should be noted, in the first place, the average coach will be no more eager that the defensive play has been weakened to take chances with it than if it were a only by indirect" legislation. that is, loaded bomb until it has been thoroughly the coach or captain is free to arrange tried out in matches. his first and second lines of defense as far more important is the rule of the he did last year. the rules say noth "on side kick." this will cause gray ing about what positions the line-men hairs in the luxuriant thatch of many a or backs must take on the defensive. player on the defense. when a punted the committee met this part of the prob ball strikes the ground, it puts all the lem by making it necessary for the coach men of the kicker's team "on side." to draw his defense away to guard against w. t. reid, jr., of harvard, secretary of a new assortment of dangers in the in the intercollegiate rules committee, creased variety of attack. believes that this is the most important for example, the taboo has been lifted bit of legislation enacted toward weaken- from the forward pass, against which the ing the defense. he has said that “since defense will have to cock a most vigilant there will be less resistance in the rush eye. but the rule-makers have tied line, due to the enforced scattering of strings to this forward pass, until its the defensive backs (which must occur, value is very dubious. all the traditions if a defense is to be made against the of the american game demand that a 'on side kick'), the offense will not be so man hold onto the ball with the per readily checked as it has been, and will sistency of death and taxes. passing the therefore not invite the smashing col- ball from one hard-pressed runner lisions which have resulted in injuries, another has been beautifully perfected and in keeping the game too much one of in english football, but the american mass plays.' rules have made possession of the ball expert knowledge is not needed to per- nine points of the law, and passing, has ceive that if whenever a punted ball is been neglected even though it has been not cleanly caught by an opposing back, always permissible, except in the direction the attacking team is allowed to swoop of the opposing goal line. down after it and nail it on the instant, to the outing magazine noses across two half-backs and the full-back, if they a kick will cost the brutal player his are of the heavy-weight description now place in the game. popular, can be drilled for effective tan “the neutral zone" of the scrimmage dem formations without using a heavy line was devised for the purpose of lessen- rush-line man. whether such formations ing the rough clash of the rushers, and for can gain ten yards in three downs is checking off-side play. the center-rush another question. by requiring any of is compelled to place the ball with its the five men in the middle of the line long axis at right angles to the line. the to stand five yards back when they are line of scrimmage for each side is an shifted to kick, and by keeping the "out imaginary meridian running through its side end men " close to the line, the ma ends of the ball. this leaves a path as jority of the committee believe they have wide as the ball is long between the two checked mass play as effectively as if swaying lines of warriors. they are they had made the cast-iron law that not supposed to punch each other's seven men must be always in the line. this impalpable barrier, with six as the minimum number, room and it is expected that they will respect is left for considerable shifting about, the imaginative “neutral' zone,” and thus enabling the coaches to employ thereby avoid the shock of collision until their versatility. the ball is passed. in past years it has “it has been the general principle of been a burdensome official task to detect the rules committee," says mr. "reid, off-side play. it may prove doubly "in dealing with the question of the hard to keep inviolate the phantom changes of the rules to try to see how boundaries of a streak of atmosphere. the defense might be strengthened, and however, it is a brave and hopeful sign the offense weakened without saying to that the rules committee dared to ex- either ‘you must stand here, or you there, periment. the trouble with the original or you somewhere else.'" committee, which found its task too big Áfter all the bewildering argument of for it, was its idea that the game was such the past year, the essential changes in the an intricate piece of mechanism that it tactical rules of the game are not numer could not be overhauled without smashing ous, when stripped of technical verbiage. the whole works. nevertheless, they are bound to alter the the spectator will welcome a rule that game in radical fashion. we have an allows a captain to ask for time only offense which is encouraged to play an thrice in one "half” without a penalty. open game and to place less value on if he asks for any more delays in order possession of the ball. it has that the bottle-holders may rush on the favorable opportunity to gain ground field and then rush off again, it will cost by punting, by runs around the ends, and his side two yards each time unless a play- by passing, it must vary its tactics er is removed from the game. the or lose the ball on downs, for no offense actual playing time has been shortened will be good enough to drive a strong by ten minutes, five minutes in each half, team half the length of the field by sim which will be thirty minutes long. it ply rushing tactics. both sides will run is hard to realize that a few years ago greater risks of losing the ball or losing the playing time was an hour and a half. distance by penalties for unfair play. it has been cut down by one-third, so the additional penalties and the man that, with penalties against unreasonable ner of their enforcement will have much delay, one may, hope to see a game to do with the fortunes of hard-fought finished well inside two hours. games. this year there will be an extra umpire, making three officials, with an imposing poul play list of pains and punishments at their command. a sub-committee was appoint- to the existing definitions of foul play ed for the purpose of outlining a plan for have been added, not only low tackling the appointment and government of of- and hurdling, but also tripping “by ob ficials on a basis of national scope. this structing a player below his knee with committee decided merely to offer its ser- the foot or leg, striking a runner in the vices to such institutions as desired cap- face with the heel of the hand, and strik able officials, and in order to exercise a ing with locked hands in breaking kind of supervision in the selection and through." recommendation of referees and umpires, for willful misuse of the fist, knee, the country was divided into four sec- hand or elbow, disqualification and the tions: the new england states, the mid- loss of half the distance to the goal line dle states, the atlantic states and the is the stiff penalty; suspension from the middle western states. because there game is prescribed for abusive or insult is no national governing body to control ing language. a clause is added inflict college football, the committee was forced ing a loss of fifteen yards for acts mani to abandon the plan to provide proper festly unfair, but not provided for in the compensation for officials and to regulate rules. "roughing" the full-back after the same. more the modern betting ring by wilf. p. pond the winning chances what could be accomplished to the full, the book was termed “round," and the bookmaker hat chance has the modern visitor stood to win something, little or much, no to the race course to "make good" matter what horse won. with the wiping against the bookmaker? engrossing query, out of poolrooms, overnight betting, etc., capable of but one-possibly unexpected the possible speculative time on each race answer: in exact proportion to the indi was reduced to about fifteen minutes at the vidual expert technical knowledge." track, ostensibly and officially one half every one seems to imagine the matter hour. then commences a really wonder- of racing speculation is an amusement; ful piece of work, for which no adequate something that every person can approach name suggests itself. it is thought trans- without previous experience, as with tennis, ference, electro-biology, half a dozen such golf, etc. of the thousands who each things, welded into one bewildering mental year make few, or many, visits to the race influence which can be only faintly out- courses there is not probably ten per cent. lined, but which, in its full effect, is respon- who approach the bookmaker with even sible for nine-tenths of the havoc the book- the first rudiments of a business method. maker of to-day works upon the punting the bookmaker is strict business from his public. head to his feet. there is not a move he the prices of the bookmaker are still the does not know. there is about sixty per old ones, but are simply symbols; percent- cent. in his favor when the first transaction age no longer cuts any valuable figures, ex- is consummated, as against about forty per cept in preventing the public from taking cent. in favor of the visiting punter. advantage of any unscientific scale, which, practically no handicapper (a much mis however, is practically an impossibility and used term, but we have none other to cover need not be dwelt on, further than to the point) can reasonably expect to select emphasize that no straw which might favor more than forty per cent. of winners. the the public is beneath the attention of sixty per cent. of losers therefore naturally the business bookmaker. the "odds" or accrue to the favor, and the advantage, of prices, are made by one man, and, until he the bookmaker. this is the status of the calls them aloud the others sit around, im- punter if he understands the actual busi perturbable, stolid as the sphinx, while the ness surroundings of the ring equally as expectant public fumes, and frets, at the well as does the expert bookmaker. it delay, the individual and the composite may safely be said that not one punter (i.e., nerves jangling like mute bells-actual he who backs a horse to win) in five hun vibration, but inaudible. when the first dred does thus understand the ring and price is called there is a rush, a scurry, its methods! every one trying to hear. few can do so. added to this the punter must make his others crane over more fortunate men's bet, and stand or fall by it. his scale of shoulders, and endeavor to tabulate on operation, even if it be a $ wager, is their own card. half of these prove incor- too small for manipulation. the book rect, and a new rush is made to verify, or to maker, with a normal book of from $ , find more advantageous quotations. as a risk upwards on each race, is differently rule the people doing the more infinitesimal situated. if he changes his opinion con wagering are those most highly excited, cerning any horse, if he thinks he has made most determined co catch every varying a mistake or taken an undue risk, he can detail. easily “hedge,” or lay off, by backing the horse to win, thus neutralizing that item of “wise money" risk. the punter could do the same by “laying against ” the horse he had pre the ring is in a palpable whirl of sup- viously “backed,” but he has no facilities. pressed excitement. the more steady and the average bookmaker would not bother conservative men are tossed hither and with his small account. thither like chips on a mountain stream by the modern scientific bookmaker no the rest of the public, and by the wardmen longer works along the time-honored (i.e., messengers) of the bookmakers, who methods. in the old days it was simply a push hurriedly to and fro across and across question of framing a scientific scale of the ring, with scant ceremony or considera- prices, on percentage, for a given race, tion for others. the antagonizing mental taking in so much money overnight, so currents are akin to those of the stock ex- much more later at the course, and en change, but wider spread, more violent, deavoring to get certain specified amounts and more erratic in the swings of the price bet on each horse in the book. where this pendulum. the outing magazine the rumors from trainers, jockeys, friends of the stable, add to the swirling vortex, which is augmented by the appear- ance of the “wise money,' this coming from the punters, who are supposed to “know” a little more than any one else. these men bet larg sums varying from $ , to $ , and are supposed to make princely incomes by so doing. i say supposed! look through the list of plung- ers of even five years ago, men whose names were in every one's mouth, and with the exception of the deceased “pittsburgh phil” what is the individual bank account? "phil” succeeded by curious methods which may be treated at some future time. the bookmaker fully understands the value of this conflicting mental swirl inas- much as it upsets and negatives the indi- vidual calmer judgment, or, in the vernacu- lar of the turf, causes him to "switch" from a preconceived horse with a chance to win according to his individual ideas, to another horse of which he knows nothing but rumor. this departure from the one beaten track of each individual is just as fatal in racing as in any other business, and all hope of success lies in the steady con- tinuity of effort, along any given line of reasonably successful formation. take the bookmaker as an instance, sitting day by day, letting the public make selections, and steadfastly wagering him the said selections will not win, certain that he has sixty per cent. in his favor at the start. realizing this the bookmaker spares no effort to augment the swirl. hence the clever delay in the announcement of the prices, the constant rush of the messengers, and the intermittent and startling varia- tions of prices in the individual book. no matter whether the individual bookmaker has done any business on that particular horse or not, he varies the prices in obedi- ence to the index of the figure head, thus keeping up the guessing hurrah. ninety per cent of the wild rumors as to the *trials," the condition, the chances, of cer- tain horses in each race have their genesis with the bookmakers, who know that nearly every man, even those of long years of experience, is looking for information." the result is easy to imagine. swayed by rumor, that which he thought good be- comes questionable, that which he thought bad may be good to-day.” so, from time to time, wild rushes are precipitated. where from, no one knows. there comes an apparent plunge on two or three horses no one thought seriously of. the prices are “cut” from - to - , some one starts a whisper “from the stable, and the weaker of the visitors are hooked. take up any tabulated chart, of any day's racing, and note the long shot horses played down, which finished nowhere. one can never find a central figure for such a vortex. “stables” do not put their money down that way. it is to the interest of the stable, equally with the interest of the bookmaker, to keep any such legitimate transaction as much from the notice of the public as possible. another phase is when the bookmaker places, say, - on his slate and declines to take in any cash. he does not vary the price, because he does not wish the expect- ant public to know the horse has been played “off the boards." he wishes them to still rush to their own selections, or to the false rumors, but the - horse as a rule wins. this trick has another angle at the opening of prices, when, say, - is marked up at once. wager after wager is declined or ignored, and if a punter insists, he is scolded well, as only a bookmaker can "scold.” as a last resource the book- maker wipes out the price saying, “don't want any," watches the punter go else- where in a mad rush, and calmly marks the - again. next morning the public reads the starting price was - . one day when the peerless sysonby was - (put up twenty dollars to win one dollar) a well- known heavy better approached a promi- nent bookmaker and wanted to wager $ , to win $ . the bookmaker said, curtly: “see here, if you want to rob me of $ , go to the cashier, collect now; otherwise don't bother me!" a clever specialty worked some years ago, stopped in its most flagrant form, but still occasionally giving signs of life, was a prominent plunger, at times interested in a book, who would go round the ring per- sonally saying to each layer, "$ on bunco," mentioning the name of his horse. bookmaker after bookmaker called his name, and the amount of the wager, aloud, cutting the price of the horse as at a legi- timate transaction. the public “followed the wise money," rushed in shoals to get some of the "good thing,” backing, the same horse to win. sometimes it did, at very short odds. sometimes it did not, at longer odds, and slowly it was grasped as an ethical, but not a provable fact that most of the large wagers had been “wind" -in other words made in serious, business fun. he neither collected, nor paid, but the cash which followed the "wise money was clear profit. occasionally to-day one can almost imagine that one sees the slime of that old, familiar snake. “stable money" most visitors have a general idea of what price their favored horse should be, and are very sensitive on this point. say the punter expects - . the bookmaker has - , and the punter weakens. he does not take it as an indorsement of his judg- ment, strange as this may seem. nine- tenths will not “like the price,” and think something is wrong. the , - slowly changes to - , - , -- , and - , and by this time no conceivable power could make that man play that horse. “stable money” may come in, the price may fall making the country home cow-manure. shrub and perennial is completely bridged they give a jumble of colors, some of which over; by their use, we can extend the sea may not be in harmony with others. son of the garden's beauty at least a month; in planting lilies, it is well to put a hand- they are of the easiest culture, and, once ful of clear sand about each bulb. set established, they are good for an indefinite them seven or eight inches deep, and pro- period with but very little attention. tect well with leaves or litter in fall. if every third year it may be well to take not protected, the expansion which takes them up and separate the young bulbs, place in the soil because of the action of which form about the old ones, from the frost on the moisture in it will tear loose the clump, for immediate replanting, throw roots of the bulbs, and sometimes heave ing out the older ones, which, by that them nearly out of the ground. this is time, will probably have outlived their prevented by covering as advised. usefulness. it is important that bulbs should be put removing peonies into the ground as soon as possible, that working roots for next spring's need may peonies can be set this month and next be formed before the coming of winter. to better advantage than in spring. we it is a mistake to delay planting them until have no finer hardy, herbaceous plant. october and november, for a late-planted every garden should have a collection of bulb cannot complete the work which at least a dozen of the most distinct varie- should be done this season; therefore it will ties. the magnificent display of color have to do double duty next spring, at the which such a collection is capable of making time when all its energies ought to be con brings this plant into rivalry with the rose. centrated on the development of flowers. on some accounts it is a better plant for the order your bulbs as soon as the fall cata amateur, as its culture is of the easiest, and logues of the florists come to hand, and as it is entirely hardy. it likes a rather soon as your order is sent off begin to pre heavy soil, made very rich with old, rotten pare the beds for them. it is highly im- if old plants are to be portant that they should be planted as divided, cut the clumps apart with a sharp soon as possible after being received, for ex spade, and make no effort to separate the posure to light and air injures a bulb more tubers, which are likely to be so entangled than almost anything else. that this cannot be satisfactorily. done. the best location for bulbs is one that disturb the roots as little as possible in has perfect natural drainage. no bulb removal. cutting some of them in two will do well in a soil retentive of moisture will do less harm than loosening all of them late in spring. if you have no place for in an effort to save them all. them that has good natural drainage, ar- range for an artificial system by excavating the soil to the depth of a foot and a half, and filling in at the bottom with coarse shrubs and hardy perennials which have gravel or other material not likely to decay, completed and ripened off their annual to the depth of four or five inches. this growth can be transplanted now. in do- will allow surplus moisture to drain out of ing this, be careful of their roots. pull the soil above, and insure the plants against them gently out of the soil, after having stagnant water at their roots. loosened it with the spade. save all the work the soil over until it is fine and little, fine ones that you can, as these are mellow. make it very rich by the gener the feeders upon which the plants will de- ous use of cow-manure which is thoroughly pend for nourishment until new ones can decomposed, or, in case this is not obtain be sent out. make the holes for the plants able, fine bone meal in the proportion of a large enough to allow of spreading out as pound and a half to a yard square of sur naturally as possible every root that ex- face. tends beyond the central ball of earth. set large bulbs, like hyacinth, tulip and fill in about them with fine soil, liberally narcissus, about four inches deep and six fertilized, making it firm by pressure of the inches apart. smaller ones, like crocus, foot or watering. it is well to cut away a scilla and snowdrop, should be put about good deal of the old branches, in the case three inches below the surface. these are of shrubs. remove all weak wood, and most effective when planted in groups of aim to leave the youngest and strongest two or three dozens, preferably in the portion of the plant. grass along the paths. perennials which have been given no before freezing weather sets in, cover all attention for two or three years will be newly-planted bulbs with litter from the benefited by division of the old clump. barnyard, or leaves, to the depth of eight reject all parts which have not strong and or ten inches. if leaves are used, put ever healthy roots. green boughs or wire netting over them to young plants of hollyhock, delphinium, prevent their being blown away. and other perennials and biennials grown if special colors are desired, it will be from seed sown at midsummer, should now necessary to order ned varieties. mixed be transplanted to the places where they collections cost less, but they are never as are to bloom. satisfactory as the named 'sorts because dahlias, cosmos, and tuberoses, which shrubs and perennials how to appoint your vehicles by f. m. ware the "here was a period in american horse seemed that such matters were less mate- driving development when the fad for rial to the point at issue than many others so-called 'correct appointments” raged regularly ignored, and that the tail was furiously, contagiously, and persistently. wagging the dog with great persistence. from its very virulence it went near to surely there is much beyond the mere damaging the cause it strove to advance. trimming to a dress; certainly the best fortunately the fever has now run its tailor cannot “smarten one who has not course, in most cases, and its outbreaks are the figure to adorn, nor the taste to properly assuming a milder and more controllable don; verily the air, the grace, the harmoni- form. as after typhoid the general health ous ensemble is ninety per cent. of the is better, so, after the equipment fancy had whole—nor can any incongruities, or ab- run its riotous length, the fashionable surdities of attire totally disfigure one pos- world found itself turned out in a style, and sessing these attributes. successful ap- with a universal excellence and quietness pointment, like aptly-defined genius, calls of taste which it had never before known. for a capacity for taking infinite pains, but the gaudy, the bizarre, and the incongru not along the mere selection of carriages ous, were side-tracked in favor of quiet and harness—your tradesmen are absolute- elegance, appropriateness and inconspicu ly competent to attend to that, and it is the ousness, and indeed so thoroughly have we height of folly for you to dictate to them thus experienced change of heart that our beyond the details of trimming, choice of vehicles are apt to present a tedious same metals (silver or brass), and variety and ness, which is rather depressing than other extent of ornamentation. wise; and most confusing, as preventing means of easy identification. crests, badges, and monograms to horse shows and their appointment classes we owe all that we have in the way the first solecism one is likely to commit of proper equipage, and the winnowing of is in the matter of crests, badges or mon- the extreme fashions once in vogue has ograms. america is a republic, and while left us, so far as concern the mere details some few of us are warranted in displaying of carriages, harnesses, etc., undoubtedly a crest, the moiety is so insignificant, that the best equipped nation on earth; nor do it always seems to savor of conspicuousness the manufacturers of any other countries and bad taste to thus blazon the fact. the approach us in the lightness, the strength vulgarity of those who use them with no and the beauty of these fabrics. to-day warrant whatever is obvious. the less one has only to go to a fashionable pur pretentious badge is so purely a personal veyor of these commodities, explain one's emblem that it may be even less noticeable wants, and forthwith be equipped in styles and in better taste than the monogram, so absolutely correct that neither the which may defy graceful manipulation, and genuine expert, nor the fad-founded dilet with certain combinations of letters, prove tante can discover aught at which to cavil. almost disfiguring. the single initial letter personal eccentricity of taste has nowa is unobtrusive, and at least affords some days slight latitude, and its fantastic out slight means of identification, as none of the breaks are but rarely illustrated. in the other emblems do. the cockades, infre- beginning, however, the opposite was true, quently worn by the servants of retired or and show judges changed their require- active government officials, however ap- ments so rapidly, frequently, and arbitrar propriate and even necessary in other coun- ily that neither manufacturers, exhibitors, tries, are hardly in the best of taste in nor general public could keep pace with america. their sudden shifts of opinion –especially the colors of carriages and of liveries when it was generally known that the offer so little choice that the result is rather equipages of these functionaries were by prosaic. bar black, blue, green, and no means arrayed along the lines which, maroon, and we reach a halt; nor do the officially, they insisted upon in the case of "invisible" shades of blue and green differ others! so greatly from black that the color is ob- grave and weighty as have been the vious. faint stripings are used at times discussions anent curves or angles, dark or with excellent effect upon the wheels and bright colors; clips here, rivets there, and under-carriages, but of course should not stitching yonder; and satisfactory as has approach in variety and brilliance the colors been the final outcome, it has always in vogue for "sporting vehicles” which are, the outing magazine ness. as a rule, very smart, and very “personal," tight (this is nearly universal); pads too so to speak. a dangerous fashion is in far forward; back bands too short; girths slight vogue of wearing collars of colors and belly-bands "cinched” up to the limit; upon the liveries, but it may be, generally horses too far from, and too close to, the is, ill-judged in effect, and needs a wonder vehicle; tugs too short, so that there is an fully correct establishment to carry it off. angle from hames draught to roller-bolt; the fashion for light-colored summer liv horses so tightly poled-up that they are in ery, and the straw high-hat seems appro irons, and all but helpless; breeching far priate for our climate, and must be comfort too loose, etc., etc.—thousands of little able for the servants. essentials neglected which really mean given all the accessories of the neatest everything in the comfort and efficiency of and best, however, the genuinely important the propelling, power. one of the most matter is the manner of their putting on, general faults is to find carriage horses bit- and putting together. of what use the ted dissimilarly, and there is no excuse for most costly and best-made livery if the this before any fashionable carriage, nor servants have the face, figure and bearing with any coachman who knows his busi- of a 'longshoreman? why put costly no such pair are ever properly ap- harness upon ill-assorted screws which ap pointed if one is worked in the cheek, or parently mourn their familiar grocery half-cheek, and the other in, say, the mid- wagon? how ill-judged to work enormous dle bar. they can, if they are fit for car- horses before the miniature" cabriolet or riage horses, always be “brought together" victoria, or the compact brougham? what by the proper use of the coupling-reins, neglect on the master's part if the harness nose-bands, curb-chains, slight raising or does not fit exactly at every point, and if lowering of the bits, and the servant who the horses are not properly put to," and does not know and accomplish this is a correctly "put together”! how grotesque "deckhand” out of his proper place. the tall and portly servitor upon the small to fit a harness to a horse is the simplest carriage behind the medium-sized horses, of operations, and only neglect and the good or the short, slight man presiding over the nature and patience of the animal allow huge landau, and its propelling equine any departure from exactness. few brow- giants! surely these items should harmon bands fit as they should, but are so loose ize, and as truly the age and size of the that the ears are painfully pinched. blink- master and mistress deserve consideration, ers carelessly kept become warped out of that “the eternal fitness of things" may shape, and seriously obstruct vision; while not be outraged by the spectacle of a if they flare, or the cheek-pieces are too corpulent dowager wedged into a "mini loose they lose their effect in the one case, ature" brougham or victoria, or a girlish and are dangerous as affording glimpses of matron jogging soberly about in a four the following vehicle in the other. bits wheeler big enough for a 'bus with servants are generally too wide rather than too nar- and horses in proportion. self-respect row; bridoon bits too thin and sharp; should cause any one "setting up his car curb-chains often sharp-edged, or riage” to consider these neglected trifles, "roughed” through carelessness, or too and to arrange his purchases along the tightly drawn. collars are often too much general lines he means to follow in respect bent at the top; our horses are rather to horses, carriages and servants; so doing straight-shouldered as a rule, and sore or he will certainly be more correctly appoint chafed necks are very frequent in conse- ed, than if he neglected the matter and quence. pads are usually broader in the spent huge sums in equipping himself with tree than is best, especially if a horse is the costliest of their kind, but each item light in flesh, and the ridge suffers unless a "fighting" as it were, with all the others. housing is worn. when placed well back, selection through mere personal fancy is as they should be, however, they generally not always good taste, and surely it would fit better, and the girth does not chafe the be better if there were a reason for and a thin skin at the elbows. breast-plates definite sequence to every purchase. generally are far too loose, dangling aim- lessly about, whereas they have vitally important duties to perform in handling the load. back-bands, if tight, are always the fit of the harness to the horses is dangerous, as inciting to a kicking scrape, certainly an essential, as is their situation especially if the crupper is not thickly in reference to each other and to the padded.' tight girthing is never necessary. vehicle, yet you shall stand at any street the breeching should hang, in the right corner, or in the park, and witness hundreds place, and be just tight enough to come into of instances of amazing neglect or ignor- play when traces slack, without that length ance in these particulars. brow-bands too which leaves it dangling about, and stop- large and too small; blinkers either flaring ping the vehicle with a sudden jerk. pole widely or grinding the eyes; bridles too pieces should, while controlling the pole- long or too short; nose-bands too large; head instantly, not be drawn so tight that improper and uneven bitting and coupling; the horses are jammed against the pole; breast-plates too loose; collars too large, nor should they dangle loosely about. no too wide and too small; checks wickedly strap-ends should stick up or out, but are have the harness fit - how to appoint your vehicles sit on the left side everything be snugly billeted. as a rule the motionless whip arm is more comfort- back-bands are made long enough for a able for the companion than, when seated as dromedary, and girths big enough for an customary, is the constantly-moving left elephant, with from four to six holes each elbow point of the driver. that are never visited by a buckle-tongue. it certainly seems that due regard for nose-bands should have a lot of holes, refinement and the niceties of appointment close together, and be used when needful demand that upon a lady's carriage driven to assist bitting; at all events should fit by a coachman, an indoor servant-a house- snugly. throat-lashes should always be footman—should be carried in place of the quite loose. coupling-reins should be long, usual carriage-groom. such an employé with several holes at bit-ends; the hand is surely more useful, as presumably famil- reins should have more holes, and rather iar with madame's tradesmen, her calling closer together than usually punched. list, etc., and is certainly far more in the picture than the groom who officiates at home as equine chambermaid. moreover, with any horses fit to use before a lady's it is a singular thing that if appoint- carriage a groom is never needed. ment means anything we violate the most in the line of sporting equipments—as elementary of its requirements, both as to the runabout, the gig and similar vehicles servant and master, by persistently sitting —the most usual departure from accepted upon the wrong side of the vehicle in driv good form appears in the nearly universal ing; and to this absurd, short-sighted and use of the breast-collar to replace the more impractical custom is due two-thirds of the formal collar and hames. this fashion was congestion in all our city, thoroughfares. first brought in use by a clever dealer and we turn to the right, and we sit on the regular exhibitor who thus attempted to right, thus effectually obscuring our view add length to the forehand, and to fine up ahead in traffic; compelling our footmen to the necks of the heavy-crested stags which jump down into the dirty street, and to run the market then, and since, assimilated. all around the carriage, both at stopping so far has this gone that we nowadays find and starting; while to the friend who gig-horses, tandem-leaders, etc., regularly would accompany us in self-driven vehicles, thus harnessed, and at some shows, special we offer the alternative of crawling into conditions are framed to prevent the prac- our laps, and under the reins, or going out tice. another freak of fashion is the con- into the street and swarming up from that ventional appointment of the runabout, situation; or we alight, abandon control of which is turned out in a thoroughly non- the horse, and clamber in after the passenger descript fashion from the first item to the has preceded us. was ever anything more last. the runabout, as originally con- ridiculous? nor can any one cite any single ceived, was meant as a roomy, side-bar reason for sitting on the right (where traffic buggy, drawn by a long-tailed roadster, keeps to the right), or against sitting on the fitted with an american road harness, left. for more than thirty-five years. i straight whip, no driving cushion, and no have always sat upon the left, and in driv more formal accessories than the robe, ing anything from four or six horses down cooler and tie-rope which we all find useful to one, have found it practical, convenient, in any similar vehicle. this same clever necessary. only thus can one see one's dealer, however, brought vogue an eng- outside wheel; only there can advantage lish harness, incomplete in finish and heavy instantly be taken in city streets, of open enough to pull a hansom; a dock-tailed ings ahead without the constant pulling out horse whose action threw gravel and mud of line and dodging back again, which, all over the occupants of the wagon; and repeated as it is all day in thousands of evolved an absurd and impractical road- cases, makes all the difference between kit and other details which were as cum- rapid and clear passage, and stagnation and bersome as they were fantastic; together confusion. think of the aggregate time with a lashed whip most inconvenient in lost at theaters, the opera, etc., etc., while driving a fast horse, such as the motive hundreds of footmen jump off, run round, power is supposed to be. this is the sort open door, unload, shut door, run round, of contraption we offer prizes for at every and climb to the box again! why it means show, and no more incongruous medley of from one to two minutes at best per ill-suited elements exists; nor will it go the vehicle! figure that aggregate on a crush way, apparently, of that equally ill-con- opera night! it is true that coaches break ceived establishment now but a memory- on the off-side, and the break works by the so-called "park tandem." hand, but it can as well act by the foot; or if there ever was a style of using two the handle come up off-side the driving horses which would seem to sanction the cushion if that is on the left. anyhow the extreme of hap-hazard in equipment, that infrequent coach needs no consideration; one would appear to be the tandem-yet nor does the position of its driver. on the not only for park but for road work we left, one's whip is clear of the face of the have laboriously appointed it. fortunate- passenger, whether driving one or four, and ly this fad was so manifestly absurd and yet the right arm is always unobstructed expensive that it worked its own remedy, for any work; while, even in a narrow seat, and the auction marts have been over- the outing magazine loaded with tandem-carts of every conceiv- able (and some inconceivable) pattern, bringing about the thirty dollars which their tires originally cost. save in the show-rings the tandem is, temporarily at least, as extinct as the dodo. docking as an essential part of appointment the trimming of the horses, their grooming, clipping, etc., is a most important feature. since horses must by the edict of dame fashion be docked, it is strange that so little attempt is made to suit the length of the dock remaining unmutilated to the size of its hapless wearer. all horses from the twelve-hand pony to the seventeen-hand landau horse are chopped across the same joint of the tail, and the result is even more grotesque than the hideous and wantonly brutal fashion need make it. large horses require something more than the pitiful stub usually left to make them appear decently balanced; and surely a well- trained" "switch" is more graceful and ornamental than the sharp outlines of the square-cut tail. nearly all the animals are also “pricked” nowadays, as if to hoist in perpetuity their meager distress-signal at half-mast before a callous world, but what any one can see of genuine grace or beauty in this style is verily a mystery. manes, foretops, ears, heels, etc., are but carelessly kept in exact order, and a horse thus disheveled is as illy "turned-out” as his owner would be in his evening clothes with a week's beard on his unshaven jaws. numerous other lapses in the practical fitness and usefulness of appointments might be taken up, but space is precious. a few such are the use of brass or other plating than steel at points where continual severe wear occurs in the harness, as on the kidney-links for instance; wearing the pole pieces through the kidney-link rings only, instead of round the collar-throats, so that if the tiny tongue on the hames- buckle chances to break the hames must drop off; short braced pole heads, easily twisted off; inelastic roller-bolts, as made a hundred years ago; bits all of one style as to mouthpiece, and of similar antiquity; neglect of the advantages of many of our native styles of vehicle; infrequent use of fly-nets in a climate where insects swarm, and mutilated horses suffer tortures unpro- tected (or is humanity of the most ordinary sort not to find its place in appointment?); neglect of the frequent use of japan" upon all iron work (steps, bolt-heads, etc., etc.) where wear comes; neglect of the harness -even the least-used straps and buckles should be pliant as if used daily; check- reins so tight that horses are, from their attitude, literally cramped across the loins; liveries and robes faded, spotted, redolent of stable odors; servants lounging on the box; carriage glasses or plating cloudy; cushions out of shape, or ill-kept; carpets worn, lining faded or in poor repair, etc., etc.—the countless little things that make all the difference not only in appearance but utility, and which, however fluctuating fad or fantastic fashion may vary, con- stitute the genuine and only essentials in any and every scheme of proper appoint- ments. dealing with timid dogs by joseph a. graham it is pretty nearly a general rule that a shooting dog which begins active work with a fearless disregard of the gun, the whip and other alarming circumstances is humdrum and commonplace all his life. it takes a degree of sensitiveness to make high intelligence. as for ginger and keen- ness, that quality can scarcely exist with- out a nervous responsiveness which in youth often looks like timidity. if the best dogs, hounds as well as shoot- ing breeds, are likely to be endowed with dispositions which are by stupid handlers construed as shyness, a little lecture on the treatment of such animals will do some good. patience is necessary to the trainers of all animals. and yet a certain application of force is also necessary. a dog cannot be permitted to do as he pleases. the hand- ler, even if he is a professional, cannot de- vote his time wholly to waiting for his pupil to grow into excellence. force and patience must be applied. success comes to him who can mix them with discrimina- tion. a man buys a ten-months' puppy. per- haps he has been raised in a kennel, has never known but one person, has been acquainted with but one narrow scene. he is crated and shipped-scared out of his wits from beginning to end of the journey. everything is strange and alarming. he arrives at a new residence, is pulled about by new people. when his owner tries to be friendly, the dog is wild-eyed, crying, ready to run away. often it happens that he has never worn a collar and never felt the coercion of a chain or lead. if the owner has not had much experience he may dealing with timid dogs think that he has bought a worthless idiot. but he should try a short period of unmixed kindness. first, he should feed the pup himself. at that age chronic hunger is the strongest feeling the dog knows. he will quickly place confidence in the man who feeds him twice a day. feed him at the kennel where he is supposed to dwell. in a day he will follow the person whom he associates with food, and he will be pretty sure to find his way back to the kennel, if he gets lost in his panics and bewilderments. if he won't lead, put a collar on him and snap in a lead invariably before letting him eat. if you are in the country, or where you can take the chance of not losing him, have him follow you for short distances before you try to lead him. still better, take out with him an old dog. no matter how shy he is, he will hang around another dog with which he has formed an acquain- tance. it should not be necessary to say that a gun should never be fired in his neighbor- hood until he is easy in his new surround- ings; and then let him be at a distance when the first shooting experiments are made. dog. it cannot teach him bad habits or prevent the acquirement of good ones. without injury to his qualities of work, he discovers that when you speak in a certain tone he must pay attention or suffer dis- agreeable consequences. you have con- trol of him while the punishment is going on; and that is of the first importance, for a man should be very chary of whipping a young dog in the field. all whipping in the early stages of training should occur in the yard or when the dog is on a lead or check-cord. when at work in the open the trainer should be absolutely certain that the dog connects the exact error with the punishment; otherwise he can in a few minutes produce a confirmed blinker or potterer. i have been describing an extreme case of apparent timidity. few young ones are · quite so provoking. but i have seen dozens of just such cases, and have seen some of them turn out fine animals a few months later. once get the dog to believe that you are the source of all blessings, blessings to a dog meaning victuals and refuge from danger-and he will believe that you are the greatest and wisest and bravest of mankind. then he will take his whipping along with other vicissitudes and trust you none the less. don't chase him keep quiet and cry: maybe a strange dog will run at him and send him scurrying away in a fright. don't chase him, or let anybody else raise a hue unless it is in a city, with its labyrinth of streets, the dog is almost sure to reach home before you do. it is a good thing to take him out again at once over the same route. but that may not be convenient. give him a bite to eat, make his home-coming happy and let him alone. while his verdancy lasts, the first consider- ation is to make him have faith in you, whatever other imaginary enemies excite his apprehension. make him believe that you are a safe refuge, able and willing to protect him from all troubles. one introduction to severity, may be made early without detriment to his future. it will come up when he howls and scratches at being left alone. that is such a nuisance to neighbors and annoyance to yourself that a compulsory cessation is desirable. as you turn away from the kennel he sets up a howl and begins to bite at the wire or boards of his inclosure. turn back at once and speak sharply, slapping the kennel loudly with a stíck. if he doesn't see the point, go into the kennel, whip him a little and use the sharp tone so that he connects it with the whipping. if he "cuts up." again when you leave, turn back and ad- minister the same treatment. usually a few days of persistence on this line settles most of his kennel distress—or at least its noisy manifestations. it is wise to make this point the beginning of force for a reason aside from your own and your neighbors' comfort. the con- nection cannot be misunderstood by the quiet behavior in the yard or kennel brings to mind another proclivity which, like unseemly and untimely noise, produces so much friction with other people that it is often a more serious matter than bad behavior in the field. any young dog in which the hunting instinct is specially developed is prone to the pursuit and slaughter of poultry, cats, sheep and other fleeing creatures. in old american days, when most dogs were raised on farms or at large in small towns, this fault was cor- rected early and speedily. nowadays your valuable dog grows up in a kennel, and the chicken has all the enticing attributes of game. he may kill enough wyandottes worth ten dollars apiece to make your in- vestment in him come to more than he will ever be worth. if he is trained to stop to command you may control him at once when he starts after a chicken, and give him a reproof which will be lasting. but some owners find that the best way is to not wait for the chance fowl, but to buy a cheap one and give a special course of lessons before an evil day produces a feud with humans. tie the chicken outside the kennel a few minutes and let the young dog or dogs show an interest. then bring out the dog and speak to him sharply if he pulls on the lead and tries to reach his supposed game. take the chicken by the legs, strike the dog lightly about the face with it, rub it roughly against his nose and, in general, give him to understand that chickens are the outing magazine to be avoided. the treatment is nearly always effectual. many trainers follow this plan to break up rabbit chasing: after a shooting dog has been thumped with a dead rabbit and compelled to endure the indignity of hav- ing it rubbed in his face he remembers that to catch that kind of animal breeds shame and distress. i have seen a trainer fasten a rabbit's body around a dog's neck and force him to carry it half a day. i never tried it myself, but can understand that a dog so treated might hate rabbits to the end of his life. any of these devices may possibly make a young dog timid on game. but the chance must be taken. you cannot afford to let your dog become a nuisance. if the experiment spoils the dog's value on game it doesn't cost much to give him away and get another. in fact, most peo- ple are too slow about getting rid of low- grade dogs. it is all right to give the dog a square deal and not expect too much at first, but certain weaknesses soon become apparent, and if they are of a vital kind there should be no hesitation in changing dogs. life is too short to waste over thirty days in deciding on the wisdom of persisting with any one animal. how to know and how to catch black bass by dr. james a. henshall the "he origin of the name black bass is not bass they are vertical. in both species known, nor is it altogether applicable there are three dark streaks radiating or appropriate. strictly speaking, the fish across the cheeks and gill-covers, from be- is not a bass proper, nor is its color black. fore backward. in external appearance the term “bass' comes from the old eng the sexes are alike. lish name barse, which is derived from the originally, the black bass did not exist german bars or barsch, or perhaps the in the middle states or new england east dutch baars, meaning perch. the generic of the appalachian chain of mountains. term bass is more correctly applied to sev both species were native to the watersheds eral salt-water fishes, while the black bass of the st. lawrence and mississippi rivers, belongs to the fresh-water family of sun and the large-mouth bass to the south fishes. atlantic and gulf states. in the head there are two species, the large-mouth waters of streams in the highlands of the black bass and the small-mouth black bass, carolinas and georgia a fw small-mouth which, in consequence of their wide dis- bass existed, having apparently made their tribution, have received a score or more of way over the mountains from the western vernacular names more or less descriptive slopes, but did not descend to the lowlands. of their color or habits, but the most uni the natural home of the small-mouth versal names are black bass in the north bass is in clear, rocky streams and lakes and west and “trout”' in the south. the with bottom springs, while the large-mouth color varies greatly, being influenced by en bass is more partial to sluggish streams and vironment, and varies, in both species, ponds and shallow lak s abounding in water from quite pale or yellowish-green to dark plants. the habits f the two species differ bronze-green, and in the somber wat rs of but slightly, and their spawning season is boggy streams or cypress swamps it be the same, b ing spring in the south, and comes almost black. it was from the summer in the n rth and west. like the latter situations, probably, that the name rest of the sunfish family, the male fish “black” bass originated. prepares the n st, guards the eggs, and to the unpracticed eye the two species when hatched takes care f the young fry look very much alike. the principal struc for a short time. the period of incubation tural differences are a wider mouth and is usually from a week to ten days. larger scales in the large-mouth bass, and a narrower mouth and smaller scales in the small-mouth bass. where there are no distinct markings, the ground color of both the food of the baby bass at first con- species is very similar. where the mark sists of minute crustacjans no larger than ings exist, especially about the breeding specks of dust, and later of insects and their season, those of the large-mouth bass are larvæ. the adult bass is omnivorous, but dark spots or mottlings disposed in hori not piscivorous to the extent that some zontal patches, while in the small-mouth would have us believe; in fact it preys on natural food - how to know and how to catch black bass other fishes much less than the trout, which has longer and sharper teeth, while the teeth of the bass may be compared to the level surface of a tooth-brush, or coarse sandpaper, especially designed for holding its prey, which is swallowed whole. the bass does not, as has been asserted, kill for the love of it. its natural food consists of insects, crawfish, frogs, tadpoles and min- nows. the maximum weight of the small- mouth bass is five pounds, and of the large- mouth bass eight pounds, though heavier fish of both species are occasionally taken in especially favorable locations where food is unusually abundant. in the north and west both species hibernate, retiring to very deep water, or hiding under rocks, logs, roots or masses of vegetation, where they remain in a semi- torpid state until the temperature of the water rises to fifty degrees in the spring. a notable instance of this occurs in lake erie, near put-in-bay, where the bass re- tire to the crevices and fissures of the cav- ernous limestone reefs of the bass islands. in the gulf states the large-mouth bass does not hibernate, and being active dur- ing the entire year grows to a larger size, in florida, occasionally, to twenty pounds. the black bass, like most fresh-water fishes, has the senses of sight, hearing, smell, taste and touch well developed. while there is no question as to the other senses, it has been very generally denied that fishes can hear sounds produced in the air, though sensible to jars or vibrations communicated through the water to the skin and lateral line organs. because fishes seemingly ignore sounds produced in the air, it has been considered proof that they do not hear them, a most unwarranted and unscientific conclusion. i have always contended that they could hear sounds originating in the air as well as those pro- duced in the water, and through the audi- tory apparatus, and this has been proven by biologists in the last few years, both in our country and in europe, by very inter- esting and convincing experiments. what has always been accepted as a self-evident proposition by many anglers has at last been acknowledged 'as true by scientific investigators. on the other hand it was subsequent to that sufficient interest was manifested in the black bass, in the north, to cause its introduction to new england waters from several small lakes in new york, contiguous to the hudson, to which river it had gained access through canals from lake erie. about the same time, , it was trans- planted from a tributary of the ohio river to the upper potomac. previous to the black bass was not mentioned in books on angling, notwith- standing that both species had been de- scribed and named, in , by lacepede, a french ichthyologist, from specimens sent to paris from the united states by french collectors. it is somewhat remarkable that american angling authors had failed to notice the black bass until a century after bartram's description of bobbing in florida, and a half century after the inven- tion of a black bass reel by snyder, and then only in a very meager and unsat- isfactory manner, and mostly from hear- say. this would seem altogether inexcusable, as black bass angling clubs had existed for fifty years in kentucky and ohio. but this apparent neglect is easily explained when it is considered that while the angling clubs mentioned were using light cane rods of several ounces weight, and ten feet in length, with smaller and lighter multiply- ing reels than are in common use to-day, the northern angler was furnished with rods of twelve feet and sixteen ounces and striped bass reels. this was in accordance with the fact that manufacturers gave their attention wholly to tools and tackle for trout and salmon, which were considered the only fresh-water fishes worthy of notice. popularity long a favorite in the early days referred to, before the revolutionary period, the large-mouth bass was a favorite game-fish in the south atlantic states. william bartram, the “quaker naturalist," in the account of his travels in the carolinas, georgia and flor- ida, . , gave a correct and graphic de- scription of bobbing for black bass by the settlers of florida. this was five years before daniel boone settled in kentucky, in . in . george snyder emigrated from pennsylvania to kentucky, and prior to he made the first multiplying reel for black bass fishing. but all this is changed. to-day the black bass is acknowledged to be the best and most popular game-fish of america, and manufacturers are giving more thought and care to the production of suitable and special tools and tackle for black bass than for all other game-fishes combined. by the generic term black bass, wherever used, i mean both species, for where they co- exist in the same waters, and are exposed to the same conditions of environment, there is no difference in game qualities. both species are fished for in the same man- ner and with the same tackle. some idea may be formed of the popu- larity of the black bass from the fact that the demand for young bass for stocking waters far exceeds the supply, notwith- standing that the national and state fish commissions are untiring in their efforts to augment the supply by the most approved methods of fish culture. so far, however, the results are not at all commensurate with the labor and expense involved. this may be explained by the fact that while the outing magazine black bass outfit millions of trout, salmon, grayling, shad, whitefish and other fry can be produced at pleasure, by stripping and fertilizing the free eggs of these species and hatching, them on trays or in jars, the eggs of the black bass are enveloped in a mass of glutinous matter from which they cannot be separated and manipulated. the only recourse is pond culture, allowing the fish to breed naturally, or at best to furnish them with artificial nests from which the fry are collected after screening off the parent fish. the best plan would be to stock barren waters with adult bass, in the manner already referred to, if it were possible to secure them in sufficient num- bers. in , when a small boy traveling from my native city baltimore to cincinnati, over the baltimore and ohio railroad, i was much interested in a conversation be- tween several gentlemen, one of whom was a black bass enthusiast. the manner of stocking the potomac with bass from a creek near wheeling, the year before, was related, and the merits of the black bass as a game-fish were freely discussed. my curiosity was aroused, for i was already an angler, and a few weeks afterward i took my first bass in the little miami river, near cincinnati. in i visited ken- tucky and fished the famous bass streams of that state, the kentucky, elkhorn and licking rivers. it was there that i saw the short and light cane rods and small multi- plying reels used in bait fishing for black bass. i had made and used similar rods for white perch, croakers and lafayettes in maryland waters when but eight years of age, but had never used a multiplying reel. i was instructed as to its proper handling by one of the best anglers i have ever known-peace to his ashes. afterward, in other states, when i saw bass fishers using eighteen-foot cane poles and fifteen- foot jointed wooden rods. with immense reels, i saw the necessity for reform in the matter of black bass tackle; and to-day have the satisfaction of knowing that my efforts in that direction have borne good fruit. the various methods of black bass fish- ing, and best in the order named, are fly- fishing, minnow-casting, still-fishing and trolling. fortunately, the twentieth cen- tury angler has his choice of the best and most suitable tools and tackle for the differ- ent methods that skill and intelligence can produce, and for which he should be duly thankful. the evolution of the equipment for the black bass fisher from the crude and cumbersome implements formerly in use has been remarkable. light, short and graceful fly-rods and bait-rods of almost perfect action, reels of exquisite workman- ship, and lines, leaders, hooks, artificial flies and scores of useful and ingenious con- trivances for his convenience and pleasure, are produced in great variety, excellence and adaptability. the most important and expensive im- plement in the ay-fisher's outfit is the fly- rod. there are rods and rods. the best and the worst are made of split bamboo. one of the best may be had for from fifteen to twenty-five dollars, while the worst are sold in department stores for seventy-five cents. the latter are made from refuse cane, and for practical purposes are worth even less. a good wooden rod will gen- erally give better satisfaction and wear longer than most split bamboo rods as made to-day. there is another thing about modern rods that should be considered. because certain rods have cast surprisingly long distances at tournaments, it does not fol- low that they are the best suited for prac- tical angling. they are especially con- structed or selected for long casting, and fulfill their mission admirably. a stiff tournament fly-rod of five ounces, with a very heavy line, has cast a fly nearly one hundred feet-a remarkable feat-while heavier rods have cast upwards of one hundred and thirty feet. in actual fish- ing, however, casts of twenty-five to fifty feet are about as long as necessary, while the practical fishing-rod has certain attri- butes or qualities of backbone, pliancy and resiliency, that are not found in tournament rods. it should be remembered, always, that the chief uses of a rod come into play after the fish is hooked; the mere act of casting being preliminary or subordinate. any good fly-rod of from six and one-half to seven and one-half ounces, and about ten feet long, if not too supple or withy, will answer for ordinary black bass fishing; in the gulf states, however, or where the bass run unusually large, the rod should weigh an ounce more, and the length may be increased an inch. the very light trout fly-rods of four or five ounces are all right for trout of a pound or less, but are too light for black bass, a much larger and stronger fish; notwithstanding, there is a tendency to use them. with a rod too light or inadequate between the angler and a three-pound bass, it is another case of the tail wagging the dog. casting in casting the fly the casts should be lengthened in the good, old-fashioned way —and the only correct way-by taking from the reel, with the free hand, several feet of line, before retrieving each cast, until the desired distance is reached.. the tournament style of pulling a lot of line from the reel and coiling it in the hand or on the ground, in order to offer the least resistance in shooting the line, however useful it may be for tournament work, is not at all adapted for practical fishing on the stream. the loose line is apt to be- come tangled or stepped on, and withal it how to know and how to catch black bass is an ungraceful and slovenly method. weaving the line backward and forward through the guides with the free hand is also an innovation and very bad practice. the line should be always taut and straight, with the rod slightly bent, in order to be able to instantly feel a rising fish. some contestants at tournaments use a large wooden reel six or eight inches in dia- meter (the english nottingham reel) to hold the line, and instead of attaching it to the rod it is affixed to the platform from which the casts are made. nothing could demonstrate the difference between tourna- ment work and practical angling more than this. a light click reel is the best for fly-fishing, though a multiplier with adjustable click is often used. the enameled silk line, which is so perfectly made nowadays, is the only one to use. leaders of four feet are long enough for two flies, all that should be used in the cast, and very often one is better. there are scores of flies to choose from, but the following i have found successful, and are enough: coachman, grizzly king, polka, professor, montreal, silver doctor, oriole, gray drake, and red, brown, black and gray hackles. the axiomatic rules for fly-fishing are to cast a straight line; keep it taut; strike on sight or touch; kill the fish on the bend of the rod. when landed, the fish should be killed outright by severing the spinal cord at the nape, or by a stunning blow on the head, before placing it in the creel. next to fly-fishing, in the ethics of sport, comes casting the minnow with a suitable rod, and such a rod should be about eight feet long and weigh from seven to eight ounces, if of split bamboo or ash and lance- wood. as larger fish are taken with bait, as a rule, than with the fly, a somewhat heavier rod is required. the mode of cast- ing with this rod is underhand. by this method the smallest minnow can be accu- rately cast the required distance, and the largest minnow will alight without a splash. it is then allowed to sink to mid-water depth and reeled in slowly. the minnow being hooked through the lips swims in a natural manner and proves quite attractive. another method of casting, usually with frog bait instead of the minnow, is much in vogue on weedy waters. it is uite popu: lar at casting tournaments, where artificial baits of established weights are used. the casting is overhead, as in casting the fly, and the rod is extremely short, from four and one-half to six feet, and quite stiff. long and accurate casts can be made in this way, but the bait being started on its flight from a height of ten or twelve feet must necessarily make quite a splash when it strikes the water, which if not fatal to success is at least very bad form. while this style of rod and casting has many advo- cates, it does not appeal to the artistic angler, as the short and unyielding rod is not capable of playing and handling a struggling fish in a workmanlike manner. as a trout fly-rod is the ideal fishing-rod, the nearer other rods approximate it the better for those rods. the minnow-casting rod of eight or eight and a quarter feet is almost as pliant as the trout fly-rod, and its action is very similar. for tournament work, however, the five-foot overhead cast- ing rod is a joy forever for the contestants, though by no means a thing of beauty. casting the minnow requires a multiply- ing reel of the best quality, and such a one costs twice as much as the rod. it should run as freely and smoothly as possible, and the gearing should be so accurately ad- justed as to sustain and prolong the initial impulse of the cast, in order that the bait may be projected to the objective point without confusion, and strike the water without a splash. but such a reel requires an educated thumb to control the revolving spool in order to prevent back lashing and consequent over-running and snarling of the line. that the cast may be as long as practica- ble, the line should be of the smallest cali- ber, size h, and to obviate kinking from constant use it should be braided instead of twisted, and furthermore should be prefer- ably made of raw silk. neither leader nor float should be used in casting the minnow, as the bait is reeled to within a foot or two of the rod tip before making the cast. hooks with long snells answer every purpose. the favorite hooks are sproat, o'shaugh- nessy, aberdeen and limerick, though the modern eyed hooks are preferred by some. many anglers use much larger hooks for black bass than necessary; nos. and are large enough. the smallest brass swivel is used as the connecting link between the snell and the reel line, and subserves the purpose of a sinker as well. the equipment for casting the minnow answers as well for trolling, though a rod of eight and a half ounces is not too heavy for this work. with the addition of a leader the minnow-casting outfit is also the best for still-fishing. with the live minnow for bait a float is not necessary, but a small sinker is useful with large, strong minnows, to keep them below the surface. with crawfish, helgramites or cut-bait, a float is useful to keep them off the bottom. as to artificial baits, a very small casting or trolling spoon, and the smallest artificial phantom minnow, each with a single hook, comprise all that should be employed by the honest angler and true sportsman. not only because they are the best and most successful, but because it is cruel, heartless and an abomination to countenance, let alone use, the vile contraptions of various shapes, made of wood or metal, and brist- ling with a dozen or more cheap hooks. wading wading the stream, either in fly-fishing or casting the minnow, is the top notch of the outing magazine bass fishing. here one may enjoy all the the spoon or spinner, the trend of the esthetic and poetic features that for cen shore is followed, just outside of weed turies have been ascribed to trout fishing. patches, shallow points, and about gravelly but one should know something of the or weedy shoals in the body of the lake. habits of his quarry, with an intuition, born deeper water may be resorted to in of this knowledge, as to the likely places to still-fishing, especially the “cat-holes" of which to cast his lure. what an innate streams in low water, for the bait being satisfaction it is to provoke a rise at just the kept near the bottom, the fish are not so place where the angler, from his prescience apt to see the angler. natural bait only and experience, fully expected it! and is used, as minnows; crawfish, especially how much more satisfactory and enjoyable, shedders or "soft craws''; helgramítes, the notwithstanding the many failures, is this larva of the corydalis fly; grubs, crickets, compelling sense of search for his fish, to grasshoppers, earth-worms and cut-bait; the new tad of dry fly fishing as practiced but a bright and lively minnow is by all in england. there the angler sits on the odds the most enticing. still-fishing is bank smoking his pipe until a fish betrays done from a boat or a low bank, for unless its whereabouts by rising to a newly the water is quite deep the angler is sure to hatched insect, then, cautiously approach be seen by the fish when he occupies such ing the verge of the stream, and kneeling situations as a high rock or bank, or the on one knee, he casts his dry fly over the breast of a dam. a lively and strong min- telltale swirl. this is fishing made easy. now can be left to its own devices for quite the dry fly fisher certainly has a right to a while, but all other natural baits should be practice his sure thing'' method, and make moved slowly and frequently in still-fishing. the most of it, but when he claims for it the in some sections there seems to be a highest niche in the category of sports, and notion that the black bass is a peculiarly ridicules the "wet fly" fisher as a “chuck uncertain fish about taking the fly or bait, and chance it'angler, one feels like resent and that in his choice of natural bait he is ing it. very capricious. but as all other game- fresh-water fishes resort to, or “use,' fishes are subject to the same idiosyncrasies, certain situations where their food is more and seem to refuse to respond to the ang- likely to be found; therefore, in fly-fishing, ler's lure at times, the black bass is no excep- casting the minnow, or trolling for black tion, and in no greater degree than others. bass, it must be remembered that it is use in most cases the angler himself is at fault less, and love's labor lost, to fish in the for not fishing in an intelligent manner. deeper portions of ponds and lakes, or in the he should not expect to find his quarry long, deep, smooth reaches of streams. always in the same places, for fresh-water moreover, as a rule, all game-fishes rise to fishes frequently change their accustomed the fly only in water from one to six feet haunts for reasons best known to them- deep, for unless the water is unusually clear selves, but presumably in search of food, the fy or bait will not be seen by the fish or in consequence of some change in the from a greater depth. with very clear depth or character of the water resulting water the casts must be as long as possible, from storms of wind or rain. they also in order that the angler may not be ob change their location with the change of served, for to keep out of sight of the fish is the seasons, for fishes are extremely sensi- the cardinal rule in angling: tive to variations of temperature. in wading, the best plan is to fish down as a food-fish the black bass is second stream, proceeding slowly and cautiously, only among fresh-water fishes to the white- and casting over every yard of likely-look fish of the great lakes. i have noticed ing water. the promising places are close that in sections where it is considered a shy to patches of water-weeds, near overhang and uncertain game-fish, it is also rated as ing banks, in the eddies of large bowlders, a rather poor food-fish, ranking below the at the head and foot of riffles, near sub pickerel. that both of these opinions are merged roots of trees on the bank, and close base slanders on a noble fish is attested by to ledges of sunken rocks. in trolling from the high esteem in which it is held every- a boat with the minnow, alive or dead, or where else by anglers and laymen as well. has the wasp affection a colony of wasps made a nest in the dark room of a studio last summer. at first the party who used the room did not relish their company—but for certain rea- sons he did not molest them. he paid no attention to the little buzzers, and they came and went at their own sweet will. after a time he began to study them and soon came to the conclusion that they were gradually becoming acquainted with him, his ways and his dark room. one day a stranger was seated on the window sill. the first wasp entering the room paid no attention to him, but made for the oid crack in the wall. then out came a big fat fellow who darted through the open window like a bullet. within five minutes half a dozen wasps came with a rush at the stranger and two of them located him. but the writer has never been touched by his wasp colony. the outing magazine advertiser out-of-town service tiffany & co. fifth avenue and th street, new york prizes for summer sports ready for immediate delibery. photographs upon request to parties known to the house, or who will make themselves known by satis- factory refer- ences, tiffany & co. will send for inspection selec- tions of their stock patrons writing from temporary address will assist identification 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j. . kurtz. $ bposu mesancorab die diens van also mink, skunk. vintage, pa. opossum, and rabbit dogs. guaranteed. pittsyl- vania kennels (registered), worlds. va. four hounds, sixteen months old, broken to foxes. james lathi'm, milford, delaware. oury chesapeake retrievers were awarded first prize at j. g. morris & son easton, md. for sale—trained coon, fox, and rabbit hounds. beagles, setters foxhounds. pups and trained comrade kennels, bucyrus, ohio. irish and fox terriers irish and russian wolfhounds irish wolfhounds.-the noblest doggies of them all. smooth fox terriers at stud for sale one grown dog, four fine bitches, free service to imported, non-related stud dog. fine litter of pups, four 'he grandest lot of smooths ever the months, twenty-five dollars, and upward. wanted, big, offered at stud. from ch. sabine pedigreed dog. fairholme farm, lakeview, n. y. result at $ . u to some of our own breeding at $ . , with free return ser- viies and the al sorbing of express for sale-russian wolfhounds. bayan, im- ported stud dog. sarka, youla and weaned puppies. charges over $ . . low prices for immediate sale. also cockers, fox terriers, the progeny of our stud dogs have boston terriers and pugs. fred groesbeck, hartford, been the most consistent bench show conn. winners for the past two years. we have at al tunes from fifty to one hundred terriers for sale at $ . and setters and pointers all are eligible for the various a. f. t. c. stakes, whether in your posses- in writing, please state at stud: :hopewell streak imported english setter your wants and price you care to pay. dog, white and black, weight ids.. very handsome. registered in a. k. c. s b., , volume xxii. bred by j. b. evans, monachty, wales, thoroughly trained by the sabine kennels g arthur evans, a trainer of international renown. fee, "result” $ . return privilege. address, hopewell kennels, orange, texas stewartstown, pa. [roquois kennels, framingham, mass., have irish for sale: high class, english. llewellin. gordon setter terrier at stud and for sale; good all-round dogs for pups and trained dogs, spaniels and retrievers, prices home or country. puppies and grown stock for pets, breed. reasonable, stock high grade. thoroughbred kennels, ing or for show purposes. best prize-winning strains at rea- atlantic, iowa. sonable prices. send for circulars. address l. loring brooks, no. state st. boston, mass. for : , ticked; bloodlines: count oakley. gladstone, druid, wire and smooth-haired fox terriers of all ages for sale. apply g. m. carnochan, new city, count noble. ruby, etc.; also high-classed, trained brood- rockland co., n. y. bitch and one young dachshund dog; house and field broken. thos. nitsche, steinway hall, new york city. publications beautiful irish setters. puppies from prize winning trained hunting stock. culbertson kennels, book on atlantic, iowa. dog diseases field trial winner. english setter dog for sale, also puppies. e. r. sandford, byfield, mass. and how to feed buys a handsome, thoroughly trained setter. box , mailed free to any address by the author. $ codorus, pa. h. clay glover, v. s. broadway, n. y. up. sin or ours. when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser i wanted want to buy a first-class -gauge shot gun. kimball, sunbury, ohio. owen real estate for sale-continued forty-three thousand acres in florida fenced, keeper's house, roads and trails, on river, rail- road three miles, no huntirig three years, bear, panther, deer, turkey, quail, salt and fresh water fish. $ , tèrms. h. l. anderson, owher, ocala, florida salesmen wanted traveller's baltimore rye. wanted reliable repre- sentatives to take four quart orders for this famous baltimore maryland whiskey amongst their friends and ac- quaintances. shipments to go c.o. d. expressage prepaid and with no marks on cases whatsoever. we are a perfectly reliable house, established , and want reliable represen- tatives only. experience unnecessary. write to-day for full particulars. the severn company (incorporated), baltimofe, md. fox, deer, coon other game and good fishing to be found on many of our low cost new hampshire and vermont farms, from $ up; cir- cular mailed free upon request. dept. . p. f. leland; devonshire street, boston, mass. for sale, hundred acres, in cornish, new hampshire, near little new york. beautiful mountain view. a. k. hall, windsor, vt. for sale-real estate for rent island camp of acres for rent in northern wisconsin; six separate log houses. splendid fishing and plenty of deer in season. address john a. chapman, agent, —stock exchange building, chicago ills. indian goods for sale moccasins moccasins made of moose skin by indians. soft, warm. children's sizes, $ . . adults' sizes, * . . a few pairs of the above view only represents a portion of that beautiful country hair seal, $ . , and high lacing style for outdoors, $ . . postpaid. send foot out- ihome of nearly acres on lake adjoining city of pontiac, michigan; line. klickates mats shown in background made of inner cedar bark by washington iten minutes' walk to electric cars to detroit, michigan; modern - indians, in beautiful colors and designs. all room solid brick house, hardwood finish, barn, power house, ice sizes. prices on request. r. t. hopkins, sanford ave., thouse (full of ice), hennery, etc.; buildings cost $ , five and flushing, n. y. 'one-half years ago; owner must sell on account of his business. hood, room cleland bldg. a magnificent collection of indian beadwork, baskets, blankets, detroit, michigan. quill and feather work. pottery, furs, etc., numbering over pieces, will be rented for a term of years a reliable institution for exhibition purposes. for in green hills of vermont and lake champlain particulars, write terms $ to $ per week w. a. benton new trains between boston, new york, springfield and palisade nevada vermont points. as good as any on the continent. page illustrated brochure mailed free on receipt of c. for den or cabinet i offer prehistoric indian relics. in stamps for postage. modern indian trophies, navajo blankets, elk tusks, pioneer address a. w. ecclestone, s. p. a., central vermont crockery, antique pistols, weapons from wild tribes, etc. "list c. n. e, carter, elkhorn, wis. ry.. broadway, new york. wild duck shooting nakalablankets, indian baskets and genuine aztec relics. reliable goods. . i have for sale one of the finest marshes in the miscellaneous celebrated "back bay" of currituck sound for wild duck shooting, particularly fine for canvas large rocky mountain sheep. head, buffalo calf robe back and red heads. . ali in excellent condition. the quality and accessibility of this property is herbert whyte, care the outing publishing co. unsurpassed. for particulars write, c. h. bull, norfolk, va. taxidermist summer homes fred sauter, taxidermist dairy farm established , formerly no. acres no. william st. well watered; valuable timber; four miles from hightstown, removed to bleecker st., one mile from sharon station, on pemberton and hightstown railroad. fine game preserve. apply to cor. lafayette st., tel. spring john p. hutchinson, will continue to bordentown, n.j. drexel building, philadelphia, please customers with the best durable work. also carry large assortment of game heads, rugs, and attractive groups, for sale and to rent. when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser hunting hotels more moose the gregorian and bigger moose th street west, between fifth avenue and herald square, new york are shot in the new brunswick woods than anywhere else on the american continent; also deer, caribou, bears and wild fowl of all kinds. write to elegantly appointed hotel-centrally located. entirely new. absolutely fireproof. european plan. refined patronage solicited. . tourist association st. john, new brunswick, canada for names of guides and full information write for illustrated booklet “c.” the log cabin, spruce lake, newfoundland the healthiest climate in the world" caribou season opened aug. ist. close season oct. ist. to th. full equipment and large staff of guides. write for particulars the practical dog book guides for both professional and amateur fanciers. a complete treatise on the canine family. over engravings, illustrating all known breeds, giving practical hints about the care of dogs, and instructions for treating their dis- “lion hunting” eases. in the rocky mountains; also lynx and the most practical and complete book of its wolf. bear in spring and fall; also elk, kind ever published. pages. deer, goat and sheep in season. special camps all prepared for lion and lynx hunting in winter; every possible sent prepaid to any address for cents arrangement for comfort of hunting par- ties; a good pack of well trained lion and the bohemian co. bear dogs. dept. c, deposit, new york the best country in america to-day. correspondence solicited. read the j. k. stadler (guide) ovando, powell county, montana by dillon wallace caribou and moose the third installment of which will appear in for hunting trips in canada, for caribou and moose, address f. de st. laurent, care of the outing magazine the outing magazine for october when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine long labrador trail the outing magazine advertiser are you engaged: copyright, . hy keppler & schwarzwans evolution of the engagement ring. by shef clarke. photo gelatine print, x in. price twenty-five cents. if if you have ever been engaged, if you are engaged, if you contemplate being engaged, or if you know anybody who is engaged, you will want a copy of this delicate conception of one of the possibilities of matrimony. thousands of copies have been sold during the past few weeks. this is but one example of the puck proofs. send four cents for catalogue with over fifty miniature reproductions. art stores and dealers supplied by the anderson publishing co., union square, new york, address puck, new york - lafayette street sexology gnorance of the laws of self and sex will not excuse infraction of na- ture's decree. the knowledge vital to what press clippings mean to you a happy marriage has been collected from the experi- ence of the ages, in sexology (illustrated) by william h. walling, a. m., m. d., it contains in one volume : knowledge a young man should have. knowledge a young husband should have. knowledge a father should have. knowledge a father should impart to his son. medical knowledge husband should have. knowledge a young woman should have. knowledge a young wife should have. knowledge a mother should have. knowledge a mother should impart to her daughter. medical knowledge a wife should have. "sexology” is endorsed and is in the libraries of the heads of our government and the most eminent physicians, preachers, professors and lawyers.throughout the country. rich cloth binding, full gold stamp, illustrated, $ . write for " other people's opinions " and table of contents puritan pub. co., dept. , phila, pa. press : !ipping information is information you can obtain in no other way. as a business aid, press clippings will place before you every scrap of news printed in the country pertaining to your business. they will show you every pos- sible market, big and little,.for your goods, open- ings that you would never even hear about in the ordinary way, and they give you this in- formation while it is fresh and valuable. if you have a hobby or wish information upon any subject or topic, press clippings will give you all the current information printed on the subject. the cost for any purpose is usually but a few cents a day. the international press clipping bureau, the largest press clipping bureau in the world, reads and clips , papers and other period- icals each month, and even if you are now a subscriber to some other clipping bureau, it will pay you to investigate our superior service. write for our book about press clippings and our daily busi- ness reports, and ask about the international information bureau, which supplies complete manuscripts or material or addresses, essays, lectures and debates, and complete and relia- ble information upon any subject at a reasonable cost. address international press clipping bureau, boyce bldg., chicago, illinois, u. s. a. when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser the balance of power the new american novel sy by arthur goodrich illustrated by otto toaspern a strong man who reminds you somehow of abraham lincoln in his simplicity and broad vision; a clever, generous fellow, his friend, who calls himself “a confounded play-actor," but who is much more than that; a girl of many moods, plucky in the hour of trial, sensitive, eternally feminine and charming, whom both love; these, with the sage colonel; mr. lumpkin, with his megaphonic voice; joe heffler, “who ain't any good”; jimmy o'rourke, of “the cabinet"; a typical american mother, and a dozen others, are the leading characters of a vital struggle of everyday american life. a strong, true american story, that grips you in the beginning, and sweeps you off your feet in the end. price, $ . ... the ... outing publishing company and west st street new york the balance of power when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser four successful books the throwback by alfred henry lewis (a stirring, fighting, romantic story of the old southwest.) $ . "a story of power and fascination."--salt lake tribune. "a rollicking good story of adventure.”—grand rapids herald. "there is a breeziness in every chapter, a guarantee that something will and does happen, and the atmosphere of the west is well caught."-courier-journal, louisville, k’y. "mr. lewis has that quality without which no one is a novelist, however refined and cultivated- the power to interest the reader, which means the ability to tell the story-a gift not a creation." -new york world. "a great and amazing story.".-vew york sun. "it is a rousing good story and keeps the pulse tingling and interest at the qui vive point."- baltimore herald. "it is good reading too, as romantic as mayne reid."—n. y. times saturday review. “an enjoyable story, thrilling in incident, clever in character drawing, and full of picturesque description and the peculiar humor of the plains."- chicago inter ocean. “for pure excitement it excels any like tale of adventure written in recent times."-spokesman- review, spokane. the praying skipper by ralph d. paine (the swing of the sea and the strength of men.) $ . "they are full of life and action, and not one of them fails to grip and hold the attention of the reader until the last page is turned." - news, baltimore, md. "noticeable for go, vigor and outdoor feeling."--new york sun. "manly, sincere stories."- globe and commercial adrertiser, new york. "stories of human interest, deep feeling, great virility, pathos and power." southern star, atlanta. "a genuineness and reality that are as refreshing as the sea breezes he sends scudding across his pages."--evening telegraph, philadelphia. "all full of dash and life and many which leave tears in the eyes of the reader."-- post intelligencer, seattle. "any man that can write stories which a reviewer wants to read a second time is a man for whom to give thanks.”—the world to-day, chicago. "they possess a perfection of form and treatment combined with a knowledge of inner human nature that is only occasionally met with in literature.”—courier- journal, louisville, k’y. "the praying skipper' was worthy of kipling and the story itselí couldn't have been bettered by putting rudyard's name to it.”—cleveland, ohio, leader. the lucky piece by albert bigelow paine (a love story and a mystery.) $ . "there is a mystery about it that holds the interest to the end."--bookseller, newsdealer and stationer, Ñ. y. "an agreeable piece of work and we are sure that many a reader will think as much."-n. y. sun. "a story that will hold attention throughout."- every evening, wilmington, del. "sympathetic interpretation of nature in her half tamed aspects, from the breath of the woods and the invigorating quality of the mountain life in which the most of the tale is set."-n. y'. tribune. "a love story with the appealing winsome quality and depth of feeling that belong with good love stories. altogether pleasing and satisfying." —herald, grand rapids, mich. “the sweet and pure breath of the mountains permeates it from cover to cover.”—evening tele- gram, veu l'ork. "something of the mystery of the vastness of the range is breathed into the story by the writer who sustains interest from beginning to the end. it is one of the best shorter novels of the last two years."-daily times, davenport, la. "suffice it to say mr. paine has handled his material well, written an interesting story, and put any number of pounds of good old adirondack air pressure on every page."— register and leader, des moines, la. side show studies by francis metcalfe (a book of rare good humor.) $ . "reminds one of artemus ward's kangaroo.'"-southern star, atlanta. "amusing, instructive and entertaining." evening standard, new bedford. the outing publishing company and west st street, new york when corresponding with advertisers . please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser by grover cleveland fishing and shooting sketches this book of calm, genial philosophy and opinion will be a kind of sportsman's creed for this generation, and for many generations to come. it is a guidebook to the spirit of true sportsmanship. illustrated by hy. s. watson price $ . net; $ . postpaid the book of sound horse sense about the camping and ways of the woods, written by a man of long experience, by a man who loves the wild, by a man with schol- arly attention to smallest details, and, best of all, by a man who can write. in its way, a masterpiece. woodcraft by a book which every outdoor man horace kephart or woman must have, and a book which every indoor man or woman should read. illustrated practically and decoratively price (cloth) $ . net; (leather) $ . net the outing publishing company and west st street, new york when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser -the outing magazine for october we an reduced from illustration accompanying dillon wallace's “the long labrador trail," in the outing magazine for october e have tried to make the october number of the outing magazine a typical autumn number, and we think we have succeeded. first of all, we follow the long labrador trail deeper into the wild, to lake nippisish. mr. wallace's story grows more interesting as he plunges farther and farther away from civilization into the heart of the unknown labrador. again and again throughout this story of adventure and endurance, there recurs the old tragic note, the devotion of wallace to hubbard's memory—the thing which sent wallace off upon this second remarkably successful journey. to the majority of the people the buccaneers, the old spanish adven- turers who infested the american coast at the time when discoveries and swash- buckling adventures were part of every day life, are merely a name, hidden some- where in the romantic history of the past. john r. spears, in the series of fact stories which he is telling in the outing magazine, is making them real. these articles are strikingly interesting as stories as well as being valuable as his- tory. in october he tells stories about bartholomew portuguese, roche brazi- liano and pierre francois. hidden treas- ure, fights with cutlass and pistol, sea battles of the old romantic kind; all these things mingle in mr. spears' stories, and the best part of it all is that they are true. there is always a peculiar charm about scotch humor, scotch pathos, and incidentally, scotch dialect. horace an reduced from n. c. wyeth's painting for "the buccaneers," used as frontispiece, in color, in 'the outing magazine for october. when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser reduced from one of clifton johnson's illustra- tions for “farm life in iowa," in the outing magazine for october have caught, almost photographically in his story, the everyday life of the modern stroller, to whom the rialto is the near- est thing to home in life. hy. s. wat- son's drawings, as usual, add much to mr. davis's text. a story could hardly be uninteresting whose characters are named teddy and bennie and their wives, familiarly known as “the pudding sisters"_"macaroni" and “tapioca.” free and easy and good humored as is this story of how the pudding sisters went hunt- ing, it is filled with practical fact as to how women may best enjoy and en- dure a roughing-it trip in the western mountains. is the increase to heart weakness due to over-work? g. elliot flint answers this question with his usual common sense and authority. it seems a pity to have to announce the ending of such a remarkable serial as white fang. to those who have not read the earlier chapters of jack london's story, we can only suggest that they follow the habit of a certain friend of ours, and read the last chapter first. if they do this they will wish all the others. the short stories which are being printed now-a-days are legion, but really good short stories—that one remembers for months afterward—are uncommon. lawrence mott can almost always be de- pended upon to write such memorable stories. the current of fear in october is one of his best. we read it first a number of months ago, and we still see and feel the tragic picture of the drunken outcast, following the vicious team of dogs across the northern wilder- ness ... there are strangely differing opinions regarding gouverneur morris's winkler stories. only the other day, two of our best friends differed radically about them. there is no dif- ference of opinion, however, about gouv- erneur morris's charm as a writer, or reduced from full page painting by oliver kemp, printed in color in the outing magazine for october when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser about the interest in the change in sub- ject matter which the winkler stories mark in his career. the pest house, in october, is typical of the series... maximilian foster's after grouse with hiram is a charac- teristic foster story. mr. foster has done nothing so good as these out-of-door sketches, since his group of stories some years ago, which appeared in one of the other magazines. to round out the fiction number there are a rattling little fox-hunting story by alfred stoddart, pinaton entitled a questjon of bits, and a weird little story, the ghostly stowaway, by joseph w. strout. several little out-of-door stories are also one of hy. s. watson's drawings illustrating "the rialto," by charles belmont davis worth reading there will, of course, be the usual view-point by caspar whitney, and the usual practical articles by such authoritative writers as f. m. ware, joseph a. graham, dan beard, clarence deming and others. many people have commented on the color plates from paintings which have appeared from time to time in the outing magazine this year. a number of letters have reached us, particularly in regard to the may and august numbers. in october there will be color inserts from paintings by n. c. wyeth, oliver kemp, and others, besides black and white illustrations by such artists as frederic dorr steele, hy. s. watson, and others. among a large number of photographs, two full page pictures of japanese out-door scenes, “in the land of the lotus,” are striking. the test of good magazine making is that each month's issue shall be at least a little better than that of the previous month. we have seldom, if ever, made the outing magazine better than it will be in october. =the outing magazine for october "in the land of the lotus," reduced from one of the full page illustrations in the outing magazine for october. when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser get a copy of the september bohemian from your newsdealer it contains: old si smith maltee margheri a legend of bohemia other by ralph d. paine attractions a pathetic little story of an old man in the city who longs for the farm of bohemia by h. k. schofield his younger days. for love and loyalty by w. h. durham by george allan england an ill-paid worker a strong story of mediterranean life by h. w. francis and an english soldier who had “no love and the right to see behind her black maltee lotus flower veil." by william w. whitelock the first by edgar white rose of summer a bohemian story exceptionally clever by minna irving and original in its mode of treatment. the idyl of the bungalow by e. c. dickenson by m. a. brady the “black dog" a political story in which love is by r. c. pitzer stronger than a political pull.” robbery by e. l underwood by lavinia h. egan bohemiana the story of a southern girl who by william j. lampton asked the prayers of the church that stageland she might be made pretty. by w. g. beecroft hostages to fortune a miracle price cents a copy the bohemian magazine deposit new york when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser for the latest achievements in the field of sports consult the new york tribune its news is fresh, reliable and comprehensive at all news stands. buy a copy to-day when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser the outing magazine is a good example of good printing good printing t: is absolutely essential to business success his is done at our own plant- the outing press - at deposit, n. y. i besides the outing magazine, we print five other maga- zines, books, and general commercial and private printing for those who appreciate fine work. q our plant is fully equipped with monotype and linotype machines, electrotype foundry and rapid presses. g every machine is the latest and best that can be purchased. every workman is of the best class in his respective line. every piece of work undertaken is given the individual attention of a competent superintendent. nothing is too small - nothing too large-for us to estimate upon cheerfully we invite your correspondence the outing press deposit new york :: when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser read the new york press special sunday sporting section when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser the prudential mas the strength of gibraltar the harvest will be certain if you take out an endowment or life policy in the prudential. you can thus save small sums, and assure yourself, or family, a substantial income at a later date, when most needed. every year the prudential is paying out millions of dollars of life insurance to policyholders who are reaping the harvest of their forethought. this money is being used to support families, educate children, furnish business capital and provide incomes. you wish to reap the best harvest for yourself? write the prudential to-day. it has something interesting to tell you. address dept. the prudential insurance company of america incorporated as a stock company by the state of new jersey john f. dryden, president home office, newark, n. j. Đh, n when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser a club cocktail is a bottled delight insure your pleasure when fishing, sailing, camping, hunt- ing, golfing, motoring or staying at home by keeping a supply of a evans ale always on hand. it doubles the bene- fits and pleasures of an outing and is the most dependable and satisfying beverage for all occasions. ex- the perfect drink for summer outings cool, refreshing and stimulating delight for the cnic' in the woods—the autoniobile party-all itdoor sports. club cocktails are uisitely blended from choicest liquors, aged and iellowed to delicious taste, flavor and aroma. seven varieties-each one delicious. order club from your dealer g. f. heublein & bro., sole props. artford new york london just the thing for an outing any dealer will supply it c. h. evans & sons established brewing and bottling works hudson, n. y. when in doubt as to the lens to buy, write to the optical works they have a lens for every purpose" the celor, for portraits and groups. the dagor, a general lens. the alethar, for process work and color photography. the syntor, for kodaks and small cameras. the pantar, a convertible anastigmat. the hypergon, an extreme wide angle ( degrees). but as an all-around lens for general work nothing equals the goerz dagor . —a symmetrical double anastigmat, which is proclaimed with- out a peer by all expert photographers, professionals or amateurs. it is thÉ standard anastigmat by which the value of all other lenses is measured. we court inspection. we want you to realize what these lenses actually are, to investigate and ascer- tain their numerous advantages. we give you a ten days' trial free of charge. don't be bashful about it. just send us the name and address of your dealer or write for our lens catalogue. c. p. goerz optical works union square, new york, and heyworth building, chicago. berlin paris london st. petersburg when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser walter j. travis in the tournament at englewood, n. j.. putting on the th green fifty years' test ' proves muntea hunter muntea hunter rye best. fine, rich flavor muntea huntea sold at all first-class cafes and by jobbers. wm. lanahan & son, baltimore, md. when corresponding with advertisers please mention the quting magazine the outing magazine advertiser pure sparklingneauneus rock mineral springs waukeshawiss trade mark "water freshes and delights with its good luck, good health and good fellowship follow the opening of each bottle of sparkling the incomparable mineral water -the white roc cool ays white rock uthia white natural effervescent purity. when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser price cents "gording trade mark reg. in u.s. pat. off. kee garter stands for comfort and fashion fordon es among sportsmen pa abst blue ribbon is the favorite beer. most nutri- tious, refreshing, invigora- ting, pure and clean, and aged for months before leaving the brew- ery, it is healthful and satisfying beer. it is the best to the taste, has a fine “body'' and lots of life. these superior qualities make it the popular beer in camp, at the club, in the home,-wherever real beer quality is appreciated. here's just what you've been looking for a simple garter which is neat, high class, and one which can be adjusted to the sock in a moment without fumbling or unneces- sarytrouble. the open grip makes garter- wearing a comfort. they are the most at- tractive and satisfactory open garter produced. "gor- grip don' garters have "gordon" adjustable buckles, to match"gor- don" suspenders. send for illustrated circular the s h&m. co. mercer st. new york gordoni meg! co. if you wear gordon suspenders you should wear gordon garters, as you will be more than pleased with their neat simplicity. they hold the socks but do not tear them, all good dressers love to wear them. ask your dealer to get you 'gordon garters if he does not carry, them, or, we will send you a pair. sole selling agents for pabst blue ribbon most valu e for the money beer is brewed from pabst exclu- sive eight-day malt, choicest hops and pure water. pabst exclusive eight-day malt is grown from finest selected barley, without any rushed or unnatural development. it retains in pabst beer all the rich food elements of the barley in predigested form. it makes pabst beer so nourishing and gives it a rare flavor of malt to blend with its delicate flavor of hops. keep a case of pabst blue rib. bon in your home and have your camp well supplied with it when you go hunting or fishing. when buying merchandise you consider quality, quantity and price. you want to know that you are getting full measure; that what you purchase is of the best quality, and that you are paying the lowest price. if you get the three combined you are satisfied with your purchase. the outing magazine the blue ribbon on on every bottle is a guarantee to you. offers such a combination to the adver- tiser. the outing magazine appeals to the classes that have money to spend - to both the substantial middle class and the more wealthy. the outing mag- azine guarantees a circulation of , live, purchasing americans. it is an un- surpassed medium. write for rates. post a. c. hoffman thos. t. blodgett advertising manager western representative - w. st st., now york city heyworth bldg., chicago, m. when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser one of over a hundred after shaving use mennen's borated talcum toilet powder and insist that your barber use it also. it is antiseptic, and will prevent any of the skin diseases often contracted. a positive relief for sunburn, chafing, and all afflictions of the skin. removes all odor of perspiration. get mennen's—the original. sold every- where or mailed for cents. sample free. try jennen's violet (borated) talcum. gerhard mennen co., newark, n. j. "saw edges" are never found on arrow collars "sectional book cases gunn roller bearing como no iron bands the clupeco process mini- mizes the chance for rough edges, as it elimin- ates foreign substances from the fabric before cutting, and hence the needle does not cut and break the cloth when the different plies are put together. these collars are made in over styles, all in correct quarter sizes that means four instead of two sizes to the inch. you are sure to find your size and style in the col- lection. write for booklet and dealer's name. cluett, peabody & co., largest makers of collars and shirts in the world river street, troy, n. y. removable door you don't get done when you buy a “gunn" styles roller bearing, non-binding doors no insightly iron bands. complete catalog sent free. gunn sectional book cases are made only arclay cents each for € gunn furniture co., grand kapin michigan when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser outing days a new kodak uticura psoap for preserving, purifying, and beautifying the skin, scalp, hair, and hands, for irritations of the skin, heat rashes, tan, sunburn, bites and stings of insects, lame- ness and soreness inciden- tal to summer sports, for sanative, antiseptic cleans- ing, and for all the purposes of the toilet and bath cuti- cura soap, assisted by cuti- cura ointment, is priceless. for pictures x inches the new a folding kodak makes the taking of large pictures a simple matter -it gets away from the conven- tional sizes yet is as simple to operate as a pocket kodak. in its construction nothing has been neg- lected. the lenses are of high speed ( . ), strictly rectilinear and being of inch focus insure freedom from distortion. the shutter is the b. & l. automatic, an equipment hav- ing great scope in automatic exposure, yet so simple that the amateur can master its workings after a few minutes examination. equipped with our automatic focusing lock, brilliant reversible finder with hood and spirit level, rising and sliding front and two tripod sockets. a triumph in camera making. price, $ . . eastman kodak co. rochester, n. y. the kodak city. kodak catalogues free at the dealers or by mail. two soaps in one at one price- namely, a medicinal and toilet soap for c. potter drug & chem. corp., sole prope., boston. bt mailed free, "Å book for women." when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser “the harder it blows-the brighter it glows” the practically indestructible cigar lighter lights cigar, ciga- rette and pipe any- where, at any time -in wind, rain snow on land - actual size-with side remov- ed, show- ing fuse in position to light cigar, cigarette or prpe. . or or sea. the matchless cigar lighter the matchless cigar lighter fits the vest- pocket like a match box. is always ready and never fails to work. guaranteed for two years. is a necessity to the smoker, especially the automobilist, yachtsman, golfer or sports- man. it's good advice: your dealer has (or can get) "the matchless cigar lighter"—if he won't, we will mail you one postpaid with instructions for use and our two year guarantee on receipt of price, cents. illustrated and descriptive circulars on application. the matchless cigar lighter mfg. co., dept. john street, new york city, n. y. don't be content with ordinary, every-day coffee - you are not doing yourself justice—you can serve yourself much better. dwinell-wright co's drink yhite house coffee save shaves $ . a year. also save the razor, your face, time and temper by using “ in one" on the blade. bin one keeps the blade keen and clean, by prevent- ing surface rusting which is caused by moisture from the lather. write for free sample and special “razor saver” circular. why not know the truth? g. w. cole company, washington life bldg., new york city. just mail us your films boston best roasted grocers and enjoy the pleasure of its deliciousness and the satisfac- tion of feeling sure of its absolutely sanitary condi- tion and purity. our guarantee. starting with the very finest berries money can buy, white house coffee is prepared for market in the cleanest, best lighted, best ventilated coffee establishment in the world. automatic machinery working in pure air and sunlight handles the coffee without the touch of a hand, through every process to the canning in , and lb. packages as you will only find it in the stores. it's never sold in bulk. kodak doveloping by mail o. per roll. solio and velox printing, mounted or un- mounted. % x . per doz. -a & x , oc. per doz. our new patent process insures highest results. all prints returned within hours. send price and c. return postage with order. kerr's studio, sistersville, w. va. castle dome cut plug dwinell-wright company, principal coffee roasters, boston and chicago. the best smoke for the pipe in america. made from old virginia sun-cured tobacco. money refunded if it bites or burns the tongue. sent prepaid postage pound. large sample c. jasper l. rowe, richmond, va. estab. ref: broad st. bank when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser winchestei metallic cartridges for rifles, revolvers and pistols in forty years of gun making we have learned many things about ammunition that no one could learn in any other way. these discov- eries and years of experience in manufacturing ammunition enable us to embody many fine points in winchester make of cartridges not to be found in any other brand. winchester make of cartridges in all calibers are accurate, sure fire and exact in size. always ask for winchester make and insist upon getting it. winchester ammunition and guns are sold everywhere winchester repeating arms co. new haven, conn. t washburne fasteners the fastener with a bull-dog grip. men swear by them, not at them. patent improved there is comfort and utility in their use. key chain and ring, c. scarf holders.. c. cuff holders. .. c. bachelor buttons c. little, but never let go. sent postpaid. sold everywhere. catalogue free. american ring company, dept. . waterbury, conn when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser deata shot smokteless stability a bulk powder for shot guns of guaranteed... american powder mills june st, at an exhibition shoot at san antonio, texas, mrs. ad. topperwein shot at targets in two hours and minutes, making the remarkable record of breaks without inconvenience from recoil. she chose to use dead shot smokeless powder. “ july th, r. r. barber won high average at jackson- ville, iii., with - , which included a run of straight. he chose to use dead shot smokeless." dead shot smokeless thoroughly meets the requirements of discrim- inating sportsmen. branded with the name of a house whose goods are most favorably known, it will always be the powder of a “known quantity,” unsurpassed in any particular. clean shooting, makes a perfect pattern, high velocity, safe, is unaffected by climate. have your shells loaded with “dead shot smokeless.” your dealer will gladly supply it. if you are in doubt write to us. write to us any way for booklet. american powder mills, boston, mass., u. s. a. st. louis, mo. chicago, ill. the von lengerke & detmold "kiis air rifle fifth avenue opposite the wal- near th street dorf-astoria new york dealers, importers and manufacturers of high-grade sportsmen's supplies catalogue free on application just what your boy needs. the “king” is, it gives him enjoyment in out- without any ques- door life, that physical ex- tion, the best air rifle in the world, ercise, steadiness of nerve and because of its healthful training which de- strength of make, velops self-reliance, confidence, beauty of finish manliness. and accuracy in no danger. popular for shooting. parlor and lawn target shoot- at leading deal- ing. ers or sent express our “king” shot is a paid on receipt of price. (other hammerless, magazine repeat "king" models ing rifle. shoots times $ . and $ . .) without re-loading. any send for our free boy can operate it easily. book for boys polished walnut stock, "how jimmy got nickeled steel bar- a king." rel, splendid sights, the markham only $ . . air rifle co. shoots bb shot and plymouth, mich. u.s. a. darts. the largest air rifle factory in the world. king shot guns, rifles, revolvers, cutlery, golf, tennis, cameras, archery, fishing tackle, fine leather goods, automobile sundries, foot ball goods, base ball goods, croquet, ammunition .. when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser peterse ammunition best for field or targets th \hose who have tried peters shells or cartridges pro- nounce them incomparably superior to other makes (peters cartridges have been used by the winners of the united states indoor rifle championship nine successive years. peters shells have made many notable records in , recent ones being the eastern handicap, championships of ohio, illinois, kentucky, minnesota, etc. these victories translated into plain truth, mean that you can shoot better than you ever did before if you will only use peters ammunition the peters cartridge company new york, chambers st. cincinnati ( sent free the sportsman's complete guide pages- , illustrations new edition just from the press. most common-sense guide ever published. com- plete information on hunting, fishing, camp- ing and camp cooking. a sportsman's library in one handsome volume, by "buzzacott." a month write us to-day. a post card will do. american & canadian sportsmen's assn., in the woods box , elgin, illinois. for cents postnge we will send froe n flat-folding poekot oup. a day from home the or a month from outing magazine civilization whether you start out for a day in the appeals to every lover of america, our field, or a month in the woods, your first country: out-door life; virile fiction; consideration is to be adequately clothed travel and adventure in remote corners of to take the weather as it comes. after that the world; country life and nature. ::: the problem of outfit gets more complicated, according to the length of the trip. you make a mistake do not use fotouse america reels every detail for every sort of trip is the only new reels on the market. they pictured in our catalogue. you may have represent the greatest advance in reel con- it for the asking. struction in years. the original and only " take down." full- abercrombie & fitch company ball-bearing micrometer drag. complete outfits for explorers, campers, patent throwout automatic level prospectors and hunters winder rockford reels pivot bearing spiral gear $ . one door and $ . . ask your dealer but reade st. from broadway new york don't take a substitute. we will ship direct. america co., north st., momenee, m. when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser pluribus the daisyair rifle ir the shots that hit are the shots that count, -theodore roosevelt. roosevelt is right! the men who made this country great were the hardy, rugged pioneers who were taught by their fathers, not only to shoot, but to hit the mark. the future of our country depends on the boy of to-day. is your boy getting the correct training ? books won't do it all. give him a daisy air rifle, and teach him how to use it. the daisy is a real gun modeled after the latest hammer- less rifle and shoots accurately, using compressed air instead of powder. . shots for cents. no smoke, no noise, and perfectly safe in the hands of any boy , -shot daisy, an automatic magazine rifle - $ . . other daisy models $ . to $ . . sold by hardware and sporting goods dealers everywhere, or delivered from factory anywhere in the united states on receipt of price. the "daisy" book telling all about them free; write for it daisy mfg. co., union st., plymouth, mich. they're made to measure putman boots. go on like a glove and fit all over. for a quarter of a century putman boots have been the standard among western hunters. prospect- ors, ran hmen and engineers (who demand the best) and we have learned through our personal con- 'tact with them how to make a perfect boot. putman boots are in use in nearly every civilized country in the world. they are genuine hand sewed, water proofed, made to measure, del. ivery charges prepaid, and cost no more than others. send for catalogue of over different .yles of boots, and self measurement blank. also indian tanned moosehide moccasins. illustration shows no. , inches high. bellows tongue, uppers are special chrome tanned calf skin, tanned with the grain of the hide left on, making the lea- ther water proof, black or brown color. made to measure and delivered for $ . h. j. putman & co., hennepin ave, minneapolis, minn denz ithaca nitro breech fi ew shooters realize that the pressure ex- erted at the breech by an ordinary load of thousand pounds to the square inch and in some cases even much higher. to stand this enormous strain with safety, it is necessary that the barrels be extra strong and heavy at the breech, where strain is greatest. we have barrels made to our special order with extra heavy, double thick, nitro breech which will stand a bursting pressure of about , pounds to the square inch, thus insuring absolute safety to the shooter. send for art catalog describing our full line- seventeen grades in all, ranging in price from $ . net to $ list. lyman sights for evera sour faithfully a start wité dunedingew zealand ithaca gun co. lock box no. send for our catalogue. jithaca, n. y. the lyman gun sight corporation, middlefield, connectient. when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser hoe ake down va the satisfied qua salg that fulfills all his require- ments. a rifle that can be de- pended on in cases of emergencies. such a one will be found in the savage “take down” rifle (caliber , - , - , - , - ) a new model easily and quickly taken apart for cleaning or pack- ing, and reassembled without the aid of any tool. the "take down” feature in no way interferes with the strength or accuracy of the weapon. it has a inch bar- rel, with cylindrical magazine. weight - pounds. send for catalogue and full description. our savage featherweight sporting rifle is the lightest "big game” weapon ever made. weight pounds. caliber - , - and . savage arms company turner st., utica new york, u. s. a. big game hunting!!! the outing magazine you are taking no chance when you visit northern maine deer our record moose bear for the season of open season deer, october to december moose, october to december bangor & aroostook railroad our sportsman's guide book “ in the maine woods” contains information in detail of inestima- ble value to every sportsman. copy mailed anywhere for cents in stamps to cover postage. address, guide book , bangor, maine. c. c. brown general passenger agent prints the best american fic- tion it can buy from the best american writers. in the world of play, it covers the whole gamut from the every-day horse and auto- mobile, to the making of sum- mer camps or the climbing of the world's highest mountains. it exploits no sensation. it employs no muck-rakers. it believes in its own land and its own people. when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser lan cadillac now ready! cadillac supremacy once more asserts itself in the announcement that model h, the final and perfected four-cylinder car for , is ready for immediate delivery. in improvement and mechanical finish this magnificent car out distances by at least two years any other car on the market. it has new features, but every one of them has been thoroughly tested and tried by months of severe service. its tremendous power makes it a veritable wonder in hill climbing; countless miles of travel over the roughest mountain roads in the country without balk or delay prove its never-failing dependability. an automobile whose smooth and well- balanced action is almost marbelous when compared with what has heretofore been accepted as the highest type of motor car. among the many features of the cadillac are ease of control, due to our per- fect planetary transmission; a marine type governor, regulating the speed of the engine under all conditions; a new and exclusive double-acting steering device that greatly increases safety; an independent steel engine suspension, which maintains perfect alignment of motor and transmission at all times, saving much strain andwear. model h is practically noiseless in operation; embodies the maximum of com- fort in riding. horse power; capable of fifty miles an hour. price, $ , . enjoy a demonstration by your nearest dealer. his address and descriptive booklet sent on request. other cadillac models are: model k, runabout, $ ; model m, light touring car, $ . all prices . o. b. detroit and do not include lamps. cadillac motor car company, detroit, mich. member asso. licensed auto. mfrs. j when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser model k winton economy on “up-keep" ha omely, but expressive.-that english motoring term "up-keep." "maintenance" would mean the same thing with twice as many letters. "up-keep" – that's the cussing phase of every motorist's experience. that's where the so-called "cheap car" hits its owner hardest. -like buying a badly-built house, a: a bargain, which needs more repairs the very first year than the difference in price between it and a well-built house would have been. -or, like buying an unfinished house, at a price that costs half as much more to finish, after supposed com- pletion, than it would have cost to finish it properly when in the original builder's hands. beware of the unfinished cheap car!-which has to be rebuilt by the owner from month to month in repairs and "up-keep." then this perfect-running mechanism has, for its long-life, and preservation, an infallible system of lu- brication chat shoots the oil to each bearing, in the exact quantity needed for each revolution, at the exact time it is needed. this lubrication system does not depend on any mere gravity pressure, or other sight feed action. known to fail under the very conditions where lubrica- tion is most needed, -viz., hill-climbing, cold-weather, or choking up of the oil-leads. it shoots the oil to each bearing with such force that delivery would be made equally well, and equally sure, if the engine was turned upside down, the oil frozen, and the motorist asleep. moreover, there is not an ounce of oil wasted in a season's running by the new model k system. the same is true of the new compensating car- buretor, which gives the maximum amount of power for every pint of gasoline consumed. and,-as to repairs- thiere should not be a dollar's outlay for winton model k repairs the first year, with reasonably good management. our book, "the motor car dissected"-explains why, in detail. copy free on request. * * the winton model k costs $ , when you first buy it. but you're through buying it when you've paid that first $ , cost, for it- because, it is a fully-finished car,-made of criti- cally tested materials and workmanship, the best that money can buy. it is, moreover, fully-equipped when you get delivo ery of it, fully-tested, and warranted to "make-good” on every claim put forward by its makers for it, it has every labor-saving, attention-saving. fuel- saving. lubrication-saving, and mind-resting device that the highest priced car in the world should have. every carload of metal received at the winton shops has been thoroughly tested, on the powerful riehle testing machine, for flaws, strength, and abso- lute dependability, before a pound of that metal has been accepted for use in the construction of winton model k cars. every bearing has been made of diamond-hard steel, ground to a mirror-like smoothness, and tested for absolute roundness, by the calipers, to the thou- sandth part of an inch. the winton model khas: - horse power, or better. - cylinder vertical motor, which is self-starting from the seat without "cranking.'. -anti-jar, cone-contact, transmission. - winton-twin-springs that automatically adjust themselves to light loads or heavy loads, and save half the wear on tires. - big -inch tires on artillery wheels. - most accessible of all mechanism. - magnificent carriage body, with superb uphol. stering and dashing style. price, $ , -on comparison it will be found equal to the best $ , car on the market this year. the winton motor carriage co., dept. s, cleveland, ohio. when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser $ pacific coast to the second-class one-way colonist tickets will be on sale via the chicago, union pacific & north-western line to various points in california, oregon and washington, every day from september th to october st, inclusive. daily and personally conducted excursions in pullman tourist sleeping cars, through to san francisco, los angeles and portland without change, in charge of experienced con• ductors whose entire time is devoted to the comfort of passen. gers. the cost of a double berth, accommodating two people if desired, is only $ . from chicago to the coast. full particulars concerning these excursions can be secured by addressing s. a. hutchison, manager tourist department, clark street, chicago, ill. $ °california the and return this special low rate chicago to san francisco and los angeles is for strictly first-class round-trip tickets on sale daily september to . return limit october st. $ . round trip to san francisco, los angeles, san diego, portland and puget sound points, daily to septem- ber th. return limit october st. round-trip tickets are good for passage on the electric lighted overlang limited, electric lighted los angeles lim- ited and china and japan fast mail, all through to the coast without change. the best of union everything pagific all agents sell tickets via this line. w. b. kniskern, p. . m. chicago & north- western ry. pcat chicago, ill. the only double track railway between chicago and the missourcriver north western line overland when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser pipe the outing smokers! magazine spilman fixture is the wholesome, optimistic, thor- oughly american magazine of the great out-doors. it covers the practical field, from the big lumber camps of the northwest to the smallest commuter's garden outside our big cities. is the best pipe tobacco on the market. it is impossible to make a better mixture. the flavor and aroma of this tobacco are such that your friends will ask about it whether they smell it or smoke it. it is made from the choicest selected pure leaf without artificial flavoring of any kind; mixed, one pound at a time, by one who knows how. it contains no glycerine (most smoking tobaccos do). without a bite or a regret it has organized some of the most re- markable travel and adventure expeditions of recent times, and the story of these ex- peditions has appeared and will appear in this magazine. if your dealer hasn't it send us your name on your business card or letter-head and we will mail you a can to try. smoke a pipeful or two, try it thoroughly; then send us the money or the tobacco, whichever you'd rather part with. oz. cents. ¿lb. $ . . lb. $ . prepaid send for booklet, “ how to smoke a pipe' e. hoffman company manufacturers madison street, chicago the outing magazine it is made for the american home, and american homes are buying it, more than , of them, every month. a single current copy of the outing magazine will show your home why no other high-grade, $ . a year, maga- zine has increased in circulation as rapidly during the last year as has the outing magazine. stands before the amer- ican public as the best and foremost literary represent- ative of the true american spirit--the spirit of prog- ress, of development the outing publishing company and west st street, new york when corresponding with advertisers please mention the outing magazine the outing magazine advertiser te artistic designing — tempered by practical knowledge - stimulated by a policy of producing only the best — this has made "standard" porcelain enameled ware the acknowledged ideal. standard" ware is a nec ecessity made a luxury, by added conveni ence and beauty; a luxury made an economy, by lasting service. its symmetrical simplicity and white purity hold distinct decorative charm, and afford a constant joy in possession and use, yet underneath its smooth always-white surface are the long-service-giving qualities of iron. 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(‘= :/\fl \;y\$jc- e }\o@<§c> w ~ a ouqf \/u wk; \'y %/ y<>\y f? . l- ”"\‘ ht- “o/*'@ ll)/o -r~,,/\/v clig ~@/q/ with the cooperation of his younger brother neal and his devoted sister valley, david chisholm sets to work to restore their old home, winding ranch, to fruitfulness and prosperity. he takes over management of a herd of karakul sheep. he becomes colora- do's corn producing champion. by putting a number hitherto worthless burros to good use he all plays an important part in the sal- vationioflla mining town which has been iso- lated by big snows. hard work, all of it, and david glories in it. yet over all david accomplishes there seems to fall a shadow which turns each teal achieve- ment into a bitter memory. for unknown rea- sons jealous neighbors have started a malicious campaign of gossip against him that threatens his ruination. 'the heaviest blow falls when he is accused of being a water rustler. after this, david has little hope of realizing his cherished ambition to win honor in the future farmers of america, the organization. which has been his inspiration for many years. then, with almost dramatic suddenness, the cruel shadow over winding ranch and its young owner begins to lift. the reasons for this change, the part that david plays in the annual convention of future farmers at kan- sas city, and the surprise that awaits him on his return to colorado, provide some of the most exciting and colorful chapters in this inspiring story. ‘f... l l l i i i -_ .._ ._._. .. ; l l ‘- ‘- i i: ll ‘- a > l i_ , * ' n-_v$-f'i‘§f ,,_.. ~"liz .u~ . i r, li . _i - i ’ . . . -__ . .-_- u-...._ q-__—. . .— .- - ---_--a. . -- - . ..__ __ ___ adda ' a i ‘ . ~- .~ _ i_.a.a-—- ~- _ l —_a_w /'\’\... ~- ’/“/”_/_,.»-__\..‘v-~_ \ / \ v l . _.~.‘_,/ ,\_ “ \-q ., . i \ ; _, ”\-“ ._~_,_i g q j; n _ ~ ¢~ / \ '\~ \~\~\'\~\~\~\~\°\° [\*\'\ n‘ .//////////// “/ / //.///. i ’ "_ i _ _ . _i .i: ___nll'-ii; _:_i_ -y ll m‘_l__vb_“.___f.§gaga%gl?‘b!_h:_l'_ _\!r"“i%‘_ ‘ _ q‘- ‘_ ‘fi.“z‘ i i‘; : ‘ “l“_ ’ i: iii _ ‘in ‘i i _ i _ q; '!\"|‘[‘ v y | ‘ n __ ___-_i _ ’_ ‘.! , . . y i ll q ‘ll i ' ll l i ii. % i £ fl ' ?“ »\ qww ’ \§\_\ *-= \ é //p‘ ‘t \ ’/ , j.| m>“‘~\ ' ’ / ¢“ / / -/ _am§/»_a/,_,;““ v» x~t\ ~ /<‘\/m’ // .. “ flan‘ §§'%rj' %",/'/k ’ q» .-.- --. ih ,;:—. h ~» ... a w “~ sarah lindsay schmid \\\?\e\ \\ \\ \ / / / / / / / / / / / / § / / \\\\\ \\\\\\ d \ \ \	\\\\t\ lllustratzons by rafaello busoni gra|\d rapids public library random house new york m .._ fi..<_.e . .. ; ... -:";;~< p=~=-q, all-'imid‘ - .-_¢-a -i . ’ ‘. —~_+ . _ .-_ t _ -‘ ' all the principal character: in this story are entirely fictitious. cl copyright, by saraqllindsay schmidt . . m printed in the united states of america published simultaneously in canada by the macmillan co. of canada, ltd. i - i i i r - - .. j c - ??’ ' to raymond conidon who, while a high school boy in the vocational agriculture course at platteville, colorado, devel- oped a variety of seed corn adapted to colorado conditions. it made him a state corn producing champion. after a five-year test, it was adopted by the colorado agricultural experiment station as the now widely known and used colorado . '~ ii > - l .- ‘ :- . i. ii. iii. iv v. vi vii viii. ix. x. xi. xii. a strange fence the local contest a call on dad queer maggie herstan mut_’s lost chance baa, baa, black sheep a secret recording mut calls at last flash flood family conclave a bitter salvation a triumph in corn i i . i ! - ' i xiii. the meaning of a find xiv xv. xvi. xvii. xviii. xix. xx. xxi. xxii. xxiii. xxiv. xxv xxvi a puzzle to be solved btmnos to the rescue springtime in the rockies a hero’s un just reward a strange theft lost hope a surprise summons the western special alone in a cnown one of the cnown at last in the arena last hours the shanow sh ws its hand i i i i i ,,__ ..... q y l i °\\\\*\\ '\\*\*\* *\i'\'\'\\\* /~\\\\‘\\#\ '\\~\\\ " -— —~ .. - '\ ~" . . \, q“ ' dill - . /fl’ / ¢/ .»/ / , // ,,///i/i :_ fl!m{/# ” .-~ chapter a strange fence t-ie chisholms’ old car, little better than a jalopy, had been chugging its way down from the upper end of a mountain valley, beyond which the chisholm ranch lay. around curves and over continually rising and falling grade of foothill roadway, it swung at last into the outskirts of the little town of wagon rest. two boys and a girl, all chisholms, sat crowded close together on the car’s single seat. david, the oldest of the three, was at the wheel, occupying the position of great- est responsibility as a matter of course. the laughter and chatter that vied with the noise of the car came chiefly from the girl. but the tall, fair boy who sagat the outer l i ‘b i ‘p l - : - ‘-s=n .. __ j f_ . is’ ‘iii .,; r. s"‘ "i i i “— ¢-.. shadow over winding ranch edge of the seat joined in with frequent, quick-witted comments. except for his carefully groomed appear- ance, there was nothing to indicate that he was to be an important figure in the local future farmer speaking contest to be held that evening in the auditorium of the wagon rest consolidated school. although as usual david was the quietest of the three, there was no lack of companionship in his silences. he greatly admired his brother neal’s gift for ready speech, and even more the younger boy’s capacity for taking whatever life brought with a manner of casual accept- ance. ()f valley, the only girl of the chisholm clan and the youngest, david was vastly proud. her real name was susan valeria, but no one ever called her anything but valley. she was short and slim and shapely, with short dark hair and dark eyes. david adored her. but he knew her faults. she had almost as little sense of family responsibility as their father had. the country road merged into the wide, dusty main street of the town. suddenly david swung the car so sharply to one side that it just missed sliding into an open irrigation ditch. nobody exclaimed. the reason for david’s act was too common and obvious. he had had to avoid colliding with two wandering gray burros which had suddenly taken it into their heads to start across the road toward better forage than the ditch bank afiorded. “blame nuisance,” david muttered. neal laughed. “don’t forget you’re a chisholm, dave.” all three understood the reference. those bur- ros would never have been wandering loose all over i .‘ i o i p mm‘ “‘ mmmimiiié l l l a strange fence wagon rest’s landscape if it had not been for their father. david did not reply. unlike neal he could not refer lightly to any of the causes of chisholm shame._those neglected burros were a reminder of one of his father’s many fruitless schemes. in a way ]ames chisholm still owned them. his plan had been to have the hardy, sure- footed little mules trained to carry out precious ore from a promising mining district over precipitous mountain trails no wagon or beast of burden could safely negoti- ate. but the newly developing mines had proved so valu- able that the railroad company had built and used its own narrow-gauge line. the burros had become a drug on the market, and james chisholm had been glad to turn them over, gratis, to the proprietor of a boys’ summer camp. the seasons at the place were short. when the camp closed for the winter, the faithful little beasts were invariably turned loose. they would wander down out of the snowy heights to the towns in the lower valley, and forage for themselves as best they could. this year, report said, the burros would likely be around all summer since the boys’ camp would not re- open. thank heaven, david thought now, the scheme upon which dad had been bending all his energies these last two years was not one that could leave an ever- present reminder of itself upon the home town. the approaching roar of an airplane brought a wel- come interruption to his thoughts. the machine flashed above them and soared ahead into the long distance. it was a private plane, of course. this locality was entirely '!’ i < .- ._. ‘ ; * ...'‘‘- ‘''_»':.“.. ;',t,iii; - k . ii ii.. ii ls , z. i l n ...; |. - .... - - - n. . --— -:;-za- ;;ai if .- . '~.l ‘i l . _i_.a - " l .. - anln -'%. 'n'- shadow over winding ranch off the route of any line of regular air travel, although the long valley had a landing field at its lower end. “whose stock is that flyer spotting now?” david queried. “not the chisholms’.” again neal laughed. “there’s some advantage these days in not having any stock to be spotted on our grazing lands. even if we had, the ani- mals would be safe enough in our draw.” it was com- mon knowledge that modern rustlers, with their spot- ting planes and high-speed trucks, liked to pick up stock which was grazing near enough an up-to-date highway to be hastily maneuvered to a quick loading and get- away. “this neighborhood makes me tired,” valley com- mented. “i believe it’s the very gossipiest place in the whole united states. and it’s always the meanest gossip it likes best and spreads the most. it’s just like it to be so suspicious. ]ust because of a few little thefts lately, it imagines every airplane or strange truck that appears is after some of its scrubby old stock.” neither brother heeded her speech because at the same moment david was stating with emphatic grim- ness, “one of these days we’ll have some stock.” he was voicing a dream toward which both brothers had been working during the entire four years of their high school vocational agriculture course. already they had accomplished something of that dream, with their few head of dairy cattle, their half-dozen registered brood sows and their large annual flock of holiday turkeys. but the wide acreage of grazing foothills on winding ranch, which in their grandfather’s day had been . ,‘- a strange fence thickly dotted with sheep, was still largely unoccupied. there were two ranches now up old woman’s draw. originally there had been one and never should have been anything else. the grandmother of a promi- nent local resident named maggie herstan was the old woman for whom the draw and its creek had been named. she had filed on the place when nearly eighty years old, and a little later had acquired all the adjacent land. david’s grandfather had bought the entire property at her death and for years had prospered on it as a range stockman. now the only hope for a dependable liveli- hood from it lay in diversified farming. and up old woman’s draw there was not enough water and tillable land to support more than one up-to-date combined farm and ranch. james chisholm had known this about the land he had inherited. yet in a moment of sharp need for cash to develop one of his fruitless schemes, he had sold the upper half of the draw to silas lamb for a ridiculously small sum. si lamb was not an impractical dreamer like james chisholm. he was a miner who loved mining, and had a wife who hated it. he had bought the land because she had wanted to steer their boy, horace, into the agri- culture course at high school. but si had farmed his property so little it had won the name of phantom ranch. he had put upon it a low, roomy house and far more sheds than were necessary. then he had lost inter- est, going back to the mining he loved and at which he showed a steady, capable industry such as he stubbornly refused to give to the farming he disliked. f ( . .. .‘ i . : l v | s p ‘ \.._..|_._ ccfnn$..qz.,,'*ivl‘ “... ..-_ .... -. ._._._ ..‘ ¢ i l \ ' . .-: !‘ ' s . . shadow over winding ranch the division of the old property was not the chief present worry of the chisholm boys. that was implied in the light, half-humorous tones with which neal re- turned, “you mean, dave, we’ll have stock if we still have a ranch to have it on.” again david winced. yet neal was right to say it. one had to face facts practically to carry out any dream. that was what had always been the matter with dad. he had always had the dreams, far too many and transitory ones. but invariably they had failed because he could not face facts. and it was because dad still could not face facts that david’s and neal’s dreams had always to be carried out on the edge of a precipice. dad steadily refused to realize how tenuous had become his own hold on the title to the chisholm property of the draw, or how overdue were the debts against the place, which he owed to maggie herstan, the most ruthless capitalist of the region. david sighed as the car rattled into the dusty width of wagon rest’s one business street. the little colorado town lay nestled on an upper bend of the river. the last brilliant coloring of the sunset lingered over the ice and snow of jagged mountain ranges in the distance, while deep, slate-colored shadows of a fading late spring day stole over the rocky foothills. “look, dave, look!” valley broke out. “something’s happening on those empty lots of maggie herstan’s next to the bank. let’s stop to see what’s collecting the crowd. sounds like hammering.” david needed no urging. soon the three young chis- holms were pressing into the throng of gathering towns- .‘. | people—businessmen, loafers, mexicans, school patrons on their way to the speaking contest—who spanned the dirt road. valley, hanging onto david’s arm, pulled him to the very forefront of the crowd, greeting vivaciously meanwhile many of the people she passed. brother and sister found themselves facing a stretch of newly con- structed fence of a most amazing kind. they had not needed this front view to know what was going on. the fence was near completion. already the structure rose well above the heads of the crowd in the most irregular top line david had ever known a fence to have. yet the top line was a thing of symmetry compared to the rest of it. the entire fence had been put together out of every kind and style of lumber imagi- nable, none of it new. laths, two-by-fours, floor planks, slab shingles, barked poles, short logs split puncheon style-all were combined into a compactly grotesque and most unsightly whole. small wonder the spectators were excited. neither david nor valley needed to be told why that fence had been built. it was an act of defiant spitefulness on the part of the eccentric old woman who owned those lots. “maggie must have scoured the town to collect as much cast-off lumber as that.” “no, she didn’t, dave,” came from valley in spon- taneous outburst. “i see it all now. every bit of it came from the lamb ranch. there’s plenty of such stuff on that tumbling-down place. i saw mut hauling it. when i called out to jolly him about what a future farmer meant, wasting valuable spring planting time, hauling * " i ._l ““ . "'_i".‘j.f"_t“:_'t;.?," :;-‘;'*_—*—--_._.._.~—iz shadow over winding ranch any such hit-and-miss load to town as that, he was both- ere'd all right. easy enough to see why now. it explains, too, why winifred was so worried when i ran up there yesterday to borrow some baking powder. only, of course, win always has plenty to worry about, living on phantom ranch, with people saying everywhere lately that our ranch used to be as worthless as the lambs’, and isn’t any more. the contrast is hard on win. her brother isn’t any such future farmer as mine have been the last few years, i’ll say.” the man on valley’s other side was saying, “that young lamb can work all right at what he likes to do. proved it yesterday and today by the way he helped with this fence.” “proved himself an artist, too, didn’t he?” valley giggled. “it may be an eyesore but it’s fun just the same. adds a little spice to life. mut probably thinks he’s smart for having had a hand in a fence that’s sure to get talked about. but he won’t feel so funny when neal beats him in the contest tonight. come on, dave. let’s get going.” “go tell neal to take you the rest of the way,” david said. neal had not wedged himself as far into the crowd as his brother and sister. “i’ll walk.” “all right. i have to sit with the glee club, anyway. even if i could sit with you, you wouldn’t know i was there. you’d be lost in your thoughts like some old grandfather. meditating on your field of seed corn, prob- abl .” gavid winced. it was not pleasant for a fellow who was not yet twenty-one to be called an old man, even by his own seventeen-year-old sister. he was even more sensitive to valley’s slighting reference to seed corn. that had to do with a goal toward which he had worked tenaciously for five long years, ever since h club days. he had two reasons for his decision to walk. he wanted to cool his anger toward horace lamb, long ago dubbed mutton or mut by schoolmates because of his last name, and he wanted to join alex arkins, his school teacher of vocational agriculture, whose tall figure he had spied at the farther end of the crowd. as david worked his way along the line of spectators, gossip about the amazing fence surged plentifully into his ears. “a disgrace to the town, a thing like that.” “we’ll corral a crowd to tear it down the first dark night.” “better not. maggie’ll get the law after you.” “authorities won’t put up for long with such a public eyesore.” “i’m not so sure, when it’s maggie’s. what’s eatin’ her, anyhow, to make her build it? just those old chis- holm burros browsing on the weeds she’s too stingy to cut? those weeds of maggie’s, left to go to seed in the fall, are a bigger disgrace to the town than those friendly little mules have ever been.” “it ain’t the weeds maggie cares about. it’s getting even with the law because she couldn’t get the authori- ties to order the burros off the streets. she says she’ll keep ’em off her property, anyway. that fence looks as if she would.” “queer she’d get it in for old man chisholm all of a < -iyw- ilab'.--q’run ..-aw - -; ~.,....’-_,-._- ...“ .%... shadow over winding ranch sudden after bein’ so easy about his mortgage for so long. about them burros, too, wandering the highway every winter since old man chisholm washed his hands »of them.” “reckon maggie’s spite is because of what those chisholm kids have been doing, lately. maggie likes to be the whole show in this town, especially since the de- pression knocked the props out from under so many of the valley’s other leading folks. she’s getting an awful kick out of being almost the only big frog left in the puddle.” “well, she’s sure doing plenty. foreclosed yesterday on another valley farm.” david, listening and sick at heart, was returning as best he could the kindly and joking salutations he was receiving. sympathy was the spirit back of most of them. whatever people might think of his father, the chisholm boys had won the respect of the town. but there was little comfort in that realization now for the shame that burned through him. he was relieved to be moving away at last with mr. arkins, and to have the teacher put into words his own inner misgivings. “it doesn’t look any too well, does it, dave—mrs. herstan’s showing a spirit like that against your father with the hold she has on your land?” alex arkins knew all david’s home problems. his interest and advice were the rope to which both david and neal clung in their efforts to climb out of the morass of those problems. “sure doesn’t.” stubborn defiance combatted the discouragement in the boy’s voice. the teacher mused on. “nobody would be keener than she is in sizing up what you two boys have been doing to your place, with your whole farm program- the four-year crop rotation you have worked out so well on your irrigated and dry fields and all the rest of it. you can be even surer she knows, too, not only what you have already done with that high altitude corn of yours, but what you still hope to do.” a half-bitter smile rose in david’s dark blue eyes, deep-set under his straight dark brows. “don’t forget she knows that last year’s crop was hailed out, too.” the two walked on in silence for some little distance. “if only,” the teacher sighed at last, “you could per- suade your father to realize the seriousness of the situa- tion, to give you boys the legal right to establish an assured security for yourselves.” “i’m going up to see him about it again tomorrow.” david’s tone was less grim as he added, “he needs sup- plies for the summer, anyhow.” the boy was far too loyal to add that he had litde hope of attaining satis- factory results. the teacher showed his respect for david’s reserve by a deft change of subject. “your turkey poults doing well?” “fine. the whole thousand of them.” “glad you got day-old poults. a swift and com- pany’s man told me yesterday orders were so heavy around here this spring that all their supplies from near- by hatcheries were exhausted early. they’ve had to send clear to california for poults to fill their late orders.” “i know. mut lamb came in on those. had to take ii , i . i . _‘.-.:y_- l shadow over winding ranch poults three days old, and of course still unfed when they reached him. not that it seems to worry mut any.” there was a wordless suggestion of, “it wouldn’t,” in the teacher’s responding manner. david went on, “mut’s mind’s on something else be- sides turkeys lately, anyhow. he won’t say what, hints now and then something about his ranch’s getting ahead of ours soon by acquiring the stock both places need so badly. says he’s got a private reason for having to find a way to get up to the state future farmer con- vention, and that’s why he’s set out to beat neal in the speaking contest tonight. it’s his one chance at a free trip since he hasn’t made a judging team and isn’t a chapter officer.” the teacher gave no hint of his probable knowledge of mut’s purpose, merely remarking casually, “water supply for the summer look as if it would hold out for the needs of both your places?” “yes, if the old reservoir doesn’t fill up too much with silt from the erosion on the lambs’ sloping fields, so that it causes overflow of what we’ll need later.” sud- denly david laughed. “mut’s speaking on erosion to- night is really funny, you know; he needs so badly to practice what he preaches. not that i’m altogether sure i want him to do too much of it. i wouldn’t object in the least to having a little lamb topsoil carried downstream onto some of my fields and stopping there.” “is that so, dave chisholm? hello, folks.” a short, dapper boy with bright dark eyes and an easygoing, self- assured manner stepped abreast of david and his com- u panion. he walked on with them, completely unper- turbed by the effect of his own sudden appearance. “mut lamb all over,” david thought in silent re- sentment. “when the day comes at last that i’m the real and legal boss of winding ranch—-” the thought stopped precipitately, blocked by the hopelessness im- plied in maggie herstan’s new fence. . a._-p h-la--h l » £ _l q‘- ! . -_-__‘‘_fi_.,-.‘.‘" ‘ ~ . . - _, .'-_ -;_;-.—.:-up“: -’';..-:-nv . .‘ $ r f ~ .. . * -‘~ ~:~ .£ u-_-awn- whit‘; l; d.'¢' ~<. v | ____ ~ ’ tm ‘if ‘w'._-w ‘j ?,',~	 ____ it ;__t':%§'::‘ /i _ | . ~ '//i h ‘lp (l: (\pn(..%\ $) / ~\\\. \&t‘ “ \ ® \‘ i_\ \‘ \ i \ \ \ //// "ii:-i v ii“ i""“i t' //" ’ ‘}’§%¥=,,\w l’? f: é | ' fl i / %% m iii a _ chapter ii the local contest mavid walked down the main aisle of the high school auditorium alone. mr. arkins had parted from him at the door to attend to preliminary matters; mut joined neal and the other speaker in the front row. david chose a seat well forward but to one side. from it he had a view of valley and, far more important, of winifred lamb. the two girls were seated side by side in the high school glee club. alex arkins’ father and mother were in the seats next to david. they greeted the boy cordially, then froze to more formal salutation toward the next person who was claiming a seat in the same row. the newcomer was mrs. maggie herstan. it must be true, then, david thought, that mrs. her- the local contest stan had a “plaster” on the arkins ranch, long the richest and most successfully run in the valley. report had it that their son, alex, could have had a much more lucra- tive position than the one he held in the wagon rest consolidated school. instead, fired by the practical idealism of the future farmers of america, he had chosen to come back to his home valley, determined to stimulate and teach boys to meet the grave agricultural problems of the day so that they could keep themselves free, as even his own capable father had not been able to do, from the clutches of persons like mrs. maggie herstan. david and his neighbors stood up to let the new ar- rival pass to her seat. the voluminousness of her figure would allow her entrance in no other way. although she was a large-framed and strong woman, this was due not to her size but to the style of her dress. she wore a floor-length full skirt of the fashion of her youth and, so report had it, numerous full petticoats under it. no other person in all happy wagon valley ever dressed in that completely outmoded style. with maggie her- stan the garb was habitual. it made her instantly recog- nizable everywhere. there lay the real reason, david had always believed, why she dressed as she did, for despite her indifferent manner, mrs. herstan unques- tionably enjoyed being a “character.” now, as she passed, she gave david a curt nod of recognition. “good evening,” he responded with slightly bel- ligerent stiffness. considering the new fence, courtesy was difficult to muster. the greeting between the woman and david’s neighbors was even more strained. i i i i i i l l l i ji | \ r » ... --q.--.-.. shadow over winding ranch not on maggie s part, however. she seemed to be en- joying herself. if she dared hold an attitude like that toward the best rancher in the whole valley, what must her attitude be toward the chisholms? consternation grew in david at the thought. he felt no surprise at maggie’s presence. she rarely missed any public function. such events gave her a chance to enjoy the sense of power that her wealth, shrewdness and hardness created whenever she appeared publicly among her lifelong neighbors. few persons gave her credit for any public-spirited interest in the gatherings she attended. yet tonight she might have something of personal interest in the coming contest, for after all horace lamb was a relative of hers. his father was maggie’s second cousin. not that maggie ever recognized the relation- ship in any way. she was said to have an even firmer hold on the lambs’ run-down phantom ranch than she had on other places in the valley. and certainly no cous- ins could be more widely different in character. the con- trast, david thought, was not all in the lambs’ favor. with all her faults, maggie herstan had a certain strength they lacked; at least, all of them but winifred. david turned his eyes resolutely away from the woman. he was not going to let her nearness mar his pride and interest in neal’s part in tonight’s program. she would soon see that there were ways in which a chisholm could outshine any relative of shrewd, capable maggie herstan. the meeting had begun. the glee club was gathering on the platform, with valley’s short, attractive figure .--i shadow over winding ranch of build and movement that even long hours of farm work had never been able completely to cramp and stiffen, he appeared decidedly handsome. and he had a pleasant voice, clear even if a little hurried in enuncia- tion. but as neal began to talk, his voice did not seem so resonant tonight as usual. it lacked fire, too, in a way david had not anticipated. neal had shown much more spirit when rehearsing his speech to david. it was a good speech, too. neal had put a lot of hard, thoughtful work upon it. david was following it word for word. he knew it almost as well as neal did. for the brothers had gone over all its points together in dis- cussion and read many of the same books and articles in familiarizing themselves with the best thought on the subject, had even talked over the wisest plan of its or- ganization. no one understood, as david did, what the outcome of tonight’s contest might mean to neal. the local contest was the first step in a long series- district, state, regional—leading ultimately to the ni l national contest held each october in kansas city at the time of the national convention of the future farm- ers of america. to the winner would come not only honor, but a medal and a check for two hundred and fifty dollars. neither david nor neal had ever expressed any hope of this final award. neal had maintained from the first that he was entering the contest primarily for the train- ing and experience in public speaking so important to any boy who was ambitious to become an agricultural leader. but david had not been able to shut completely from his mind the thought of what two hundred and the local contest e l _. -.—.-,,..--—_,;.=_- . i *'.. fifty dollars in cash might mean to neal when he en- tered agricultural college next fall. the vision faded steadily as neal’s speech went on. david shifted forward nervously in his seat, silently imploring, “snap into it, old fellow! snap into it!” but neal did not “snap into it.” he finished almost as cas- ually as he had begun, and the politely listening audience failed to respond with any real warmth. “what on earth is the matter with him?” david groaned to himself. there, the three judges were questioning neal. as a required part of the program, each speaker was tested as to his thorough knowledge of his subject and his power to think clearly while on his feet. neal met each ques- tion calmly, pondered it a moment, then responded clearly, logically and straight to the point. david, watching the questioners, saw their faces light with satis- faction; one man, an attorney from denver, who had been asked to serve as a judge, seemed especially pleased. as neal took his seat, horace lamb sprang to his feet. his subject was, “erosion as a menace to america’s agriculture. it must be stopped.” david’s tension broke in the relief of a grin. “imagine mut lamb stopping it.” david knew from the stir through the audience that he was not the only person who found secret amusement in the thought. he cen- tered on mut a gaze that challenged, “beat neal if you dare!” the eyes of the two boys met and clashed. mut shifted position nervously on his feet, cleared his throat and resolutely looked away. but david kept his chal- lenging gaze fixed on mut during the next ten minutes, and thus was completely unaware that maggie herstan i shadow over winding ranch was watching him with more interest than she was the speaker. as horace proceeded, however, gradually david’s challenging expression changed to one of consternation. that was a good speech of the “upstart’s,” as david was far too honest not to acknowledge. could such an in- different young farmer as horace lamb really have thought a subject through as well as that? no, but wini- fred could. winifred had helped her brother with that speech. not in any dishonest way; david knew wini- fred too well to believe that. but she must have discussed the subject with mut and given him constructive criti- cism. it was not only a good speech, it was being well delivered. the tightened attention of the whole roomful of people showed recognition of that. if mut’s voice was a little too loud, it was nevertheless forceful. if his bearing was a little too assured, it was nevertheless easy and free of movement, its gestures natural and devoid of stiffness. horace was ending at last in an emotional crescendo that had true effectiveness. david sat back, glad it was over. then the three judges began questioning horace. the boy’s confidence never wavered. without a sec- ond’s hesitation, he replied glibly each time in a repeti- tion of used phrases from his speech which had scarcely any bearing on the questions asked. david’s intelligence was prompt to note the fact. “missed every shot,” he thought with shamed exultation. a musical number followed while the three judges retired to compare judgments. they were back again as the music ended, and the spokesman of the three an- i. ,....,-i. ‘ l i _ l l the local contest nounced their verdict. “the opinion of the judges was not unanimous. one judge voted for robert mcneal chisholm as winner.” (that denver attorney, david felt sure.) “the other two, for horace lamb. since the majority decision rules, horace lamb is the winner of the contest, and next week will represent the wagon rest consolidated high school in competition with the winners of the contests in the other high schools of the district.” . as the meeting broke up, david lingered near his seat, hoping that neal would soon be free of the group at the front. loyalty demanded that he go promptly to his defeated brother’s side. as maggie herstan brushed past him, he became suddenly aware that she was addressing him. “what do you two young chisholms mean, letting that young upstart beat you out?” she strode on without giving david a chance to reply. to his amazement he found his inner response rising in defense of horace. mut was no upstart; his greatest handicap so far had been his lack of persistence, the result of going off half- cocked at every new thing that came along, the way he had in answer to those questions tonight. neal certainly had beaten horace there. a moment later david heard the denver judge make that very remark to neal. “there was real thought in your talk tonight, boy, and in your replies to your ques- tions. you kept your head and your power to think clearly while on your feet. i scored you high enough on that to make you my choice for winner. but you lacked the fire the other boy had in his platform presence and in his delivery. get it! learn how to reveal to your audi- * — ‘iii shadow over winding ranch —‘ i t - - ence your gripping faith in what you are saying and you’ll go ahead of the other chap one of these days.” neal was genuinely pleased at the commendation, david saw. it was almost as if it accorded with some secret satisfaction of his own. david referred to the judge’s comment on the home- ward drive. “pity you didn’t get that fire tonight,” he remarked drily. neal’s response was provokingly lighthearted. “well, i never nourished any hope of that two hundred and fifty dollars, you know, dave. my chance in competing against the whole united states was altogether too slim from the start.” “go into anything with that spirit and you’re licked before you start.” “oh, i don’t know,” neal parried without rancor. “there’s more than one kind of victory. i got a lot of exactly the right kind of training and practice out of that contest.” i was neal’s present attitude merely the cloak that he wore so often and so successfully to hide his deeper feelings? it rarely deceived david, although he had known neal to be misjudged by it more than once. to- night david doubted whether it really was a cloak. could it be, after all the hard work neal had put upon his speech, that he had deliberately let horace lamb win the contest? if so, why? there was no use in voic- ing any such suspicion. pleasantly communicative about his aflairs as neal always appeared to be, he would be sure to keep his own counsel about a situation like that. “won’t mut be cocky?” valley was laughing. “bask- . v i l v r i | i l the local contest ing in the spotlight. strutting in the public eye. how he loves it! and, of course, there’s precious little of it to be had grubbing on their out-of-the-way, run-down ranch. poor winifred! she’ll have a harder time than ever this summer, holding mut down to real work at home. and if he doesn’t——” valley shrugged sug- gestively to imply the hopelessness of the lamb ranch situation. presently she added, “i wouldn’t mind mut’s winning tonight so much if it wasn’t for the way he helped maggie herstan with that awful fence.” david had much the same feeling. he accepted the shift of subject. “neal, it looks as if we might have to round up those burros and graze them again on some of the home foothills that the turkeys won’t need.” neal stiffened. “absolutely nothing doing! no worthless stock, ever again, grazing on those hills! above all, now, when once again they’re worth some- thing.” david welcomed neal’s mandate. both chisholm boys had big dreams of all that wide, winding foothill grazing acreage. long overstocked, during the boys’ childhood, under their father’s neglectful management, those acres had become almost worthless from over- cropping. then james chisholm had lost his run-down stock in a big winter snowstorm, and for years much of the range had lain idle, to its great benefit. rest had re- stored it to fertility, reseeded it with new grasses. once again it was ready to make of the old chisholm place a real ranch, a western farm that raises livestock on the range in goodly numbers. in recent years, with the boys as its workers, the place had been merely a small farm. ii . j». :"-.-_ ._‘, ‘_‘. . :-_-...'-m i ll l i-t§,ii i ! |-bud-a-a - shadow over winding ranch but one of these days—so david vowed in his heart—it would be again both a farm and a ranch. only in diversi- fied farming, he knew, was there any hope of earning a real livelihood from agriculture. all this was in the back of david’s mind as he met neal’s decisiveness with a half-hearted, “better than having dad sued for trespassing, isn’t it? let maggie herstan tighten her hold just one more little notch or two, and then where would winding ranch be?” both brothers were glad to have valley break into their discussion. “have either of you boys any idea what made mut go into the speaking contest the way he did? why, i mean, he was so dead set on winning so as to get a_ free trip to fort collins?” “no,” returned david. “and i don’t know as i want to.” . “you weren’t expecting him to confide in me, were you?” david flashed a sharp glance at his brother. convic- tion shot through him. “whether he confided in you or not, young man, you know. and it has something to do with your letting mut win that contest tonight.” he did not speak the words aloud. \ \ \.. / ’ ' )’ i r / . '" j’ q ‘ ' ' . _ / _ . f } _ chapter ill a call on dad ~ore daylight the following morning david built the kitchen fire, put the teakettle on to boil and went outside to do the early chores. when he carried the foaming milk pails into the house, neal was in the kitchen, stirring oatmeal and breaking eggs into the sputtering grease in the frying pan. “knew you’d need an early start.” the words were muttered in an apologetic tone. . “you’re a knowing kid,” david returned gratefully. when neal commented, “it’s all right to try again, old man. but you won’t get anywhere,” discouragement settled upon david s spirit in spite of himself. i l l l x l i l --_-'__ ...w.-,r-a-qnlp -_.- -?,fl-'_-=;;.:- n\<-- \ ,al . , _~ a ....¢>-. -.a..;_*-_ la ti . i- . l ll . ... _- . . ; ;_'__“:'‘'_ _ fiz_ ’; , ' '.i.|u_j‘ l shadow over winding ranch “not if we keep that attitude.” but the retort lacked force. as he ate, david listened unwillingly to the running comment he had heard so many times before from neal. “look here, dave, it’s a mistake for fellows situated as we are to build for a future on the home ranch, as most future farmers can. we’ve simply got to look facts in the face, as i’ve always told you from the start. i’ve got to do enough on the old place, of course, to qualify for future farmer honors, since a fellow’s got to prove first he’s a real farmer before he can get very far in that organization. but i’m not tying my hopes and dreams to the ranch the way you are. and if you’ve got any sense, you’ll stop it. “i like farming as well as you do. but i’m going in for the training in agricultural leadership that the future farmer organization gives a fellow a chance to get. my big worry is that the home props will cave in under me before i’ve been able to get it. after all, what’s to prevent maggie herstan from foreclosing any time she feels like it? but i’ve never had any hope of making dad see that. i know one thing, though. it’s you i’ve got to thank for anything i may have done so far, as well as for any prospect i have for doing things in the future. and you’ve my full permission to tell dad so straight from the shoulder. there’s just a chance it might jog him a little. he still likes to think he’s the real head of the family.” david had no intention of telling his father any such thing. he was soon driving his jalopy down the winding shadow over winding ranch he had left. this was not tourist country he was enter- ing. it was part of the gold country of colorado’s early mining days. once or twice david traveled through a small mining town. more frequently he passed old mine dumps, mine shafts and decaying frame structures. now and then the whir of machinery suggested the toil of workers underground. david went on and up until at last the actual road faded out. there on a hillside stood a small, squat build- ing that was store, post office, roadside garage and dwelling house all in one. a lone man and boy were in charge. they greeted david cordially by name. “dad all right?” he queried. “so far as i know. ain’t seen him for ’most two months. got supplies to pack in to him, ain’t you? he’s expecting you; left his mountain birds here for you. bud,” the man turned to the hovering boy, “you go catch them mules o’ old man chisholm’s and bring ’em here. pronto, too.” a little later david was once more on his way. he had left the car at the road-end garage and had secured the pack on one of the burros, which trailed him sturdily as he rode the other. he had only five more miles to go, but they were diflicult ones, precipitous, rocky and rarely traveled. the burros took them knowingly. at last david drew rein on a high ridge to let flap jack, the gray burro he rode, rest after a last steep climb. the pack burro paused, too, and stood with sleepily droop- ing head, indifferent to the breathtaking view beyond. david himself was far from indifferent to that view. a call on dad the emotion it aroused in him, however, was not that of an artist kindled by its beauty. rather it was a feeling of resentment. for that view did something to him that made him understand altogether too well why his father was satisfied to spend days and years in utter loneliness, working hard without recompense for the sake of an empty dream. and today of all times david did not want to feel too sympathetic toward dad. as flap jack and his rider took up their journey, followed by the swaying gait of the pack-laden dried apple, they traveled a thin line of what in bygone days had been a well-worn trail, but which was now rough, faint and often almost impassable. it led to a group of decaying buildings on the opposite slopes that rose like ugly dark blots among patches of scrub green growth and bare yellow ground. they were the abandoned buildings of the camp mule mine. before one of the crumbling shacks which com- manded the finest view, f lap jack and his rider, with dried apple behind them, came to a halt. the door was closed, smoke rose from the patched chimney and sounds came from within. a radio hummed and a type- writer clacked. so dad was not at work today, digging, setting charges, blasting away to run a new tunnel into that old exhausted mine, in the vain hope of striking a new vein. only with dad, of course, the hope was not impossible. according to horace lamb’s father and the denver mining company, it was strong enough for james chisholm to have been willing to undertake single- handed the long, arduous task of boring that tunnel; and i i l l ; l f in .-‘ ii . i ‘al ii l l l l ll l ~" , . i' . l i i . . ~. ~ . -.q.o. $ . j. .- '__ % "i ii ; ‘ill ‘ ‘ l j_ il:'l h , : ».......“..»..'‘. . - ~ --m.|_-ah as up- _-_>_l_n \;r: q‘ ;. - . it ii. ;}. aa, q ah v. a shadow over winding ranch for no pay whatever, not even a grubstake, except worthless paper shares in the mine itself. the door swung open from within before david had reached it. his father stepped out, face alight. “sure glad to see you, son.” he laid a cordial hand on the dis- mounting boy’s shoulder. he was a small man for the type of work he was undertaking, not short but spare, and wiry of build and quick of movement. enthusiasm and nervous energy were evidently far more of his working capital than physique. “come right in and see what i’m up to.” he took time to give a pat each to flap jack and dried apple. “you’ve arrived just in time to give me the stuff that’ll make this the best paper i’ve sent up yet.” leaving the door wide open, he reseated himself quickly at the type- writer and began to type. over his shoulder meanwhile he threw a careless, “just lift the pack ofi' apple. let him and flap graze around for a few minutes. they won’t go far.” david obeyed. “what now?” he queried a moment later with a resigned curtness as he entered the shack and closed the door. he was annoyed at his own curi- osity. would he never be able to throw off completely his interest in dad’s ever-changing but always energetic schemes? “newspaper,” his father announced gaily. he began throwing out information in intermittent jerks while his fingers tapped busily. “send it up—twice a week- to si lamb—and that crew of men—he’s bossing at the angela. they’re cut completely off—from the world up there—you know that. worse than i would be—if i _. . ..~ if ' _ . .-‘is.-.:_--’—/ " a call on dad hadn’t packed up these tubes—and wire and dial—and battery and trickle charger—to rig up—this radio. as ’tis -a lot of the time i get everything—often clear as crystal —almost no static. since si got me—this chance—i owe him something. so what’s the latest? a newspaper-with guard here—for my delivery boy. guard knows those fellows up there—and he knows the way in. we’re a good team, aren’t we, guard?” the big collie dog lay in expectant alertness at the foot of the crude table, thumping a response with his tail. he was a beautiful creature, unusually large for a collie, his thick coat all white except for three golden- brown patches. his owner let an affectionate hand drop for an instant on the dog’s long head. “guard’s im- patient. excuse us, david, while i get this last item or two typed off. with your help we’ll send si’s gang a newspaper this time that is a newspaper. they’re all wagon valley men like si and me.” “are they all working for nothing, too, not even a grubstake?” david thought resentfully. si lamb had “wished off” on dad this camp mule job. si himself was receiving regular monthly cash pay for bossing a crew of men starting to rework the old almost inacces- sible angela mine. he could easily have put dad on that paid crew. instead, he had lured him for those worthless shares into this slow, dangerous job of blasting a new camp mule crosswise tunnel. over the radio a news announcer was signing off, and dad was completely absorbed in his typing. easy enough to see what he was doing. he was typing off on that ramshackle machine the news from the broadcast i‘ i i i : ii’ l , =._ ll- ' "" i \ l l . .| .| l l l "i ll kl ii; in )_ ..‘.jl‘ ' i . ’ . .''.>\>-j-a~nn=a‘~\_‘¢_|n\—u a it‘ - v ..-.< own-\.. . _ ‘... ..- _- --‘‘¢i~<- : - * - 'm. ‘t““- . ..._~;...=..- ‘..,f -- ' - ' i ' _ --.-. ~_:--_--. :-..-. -.-’ .-.-:: -i--sir-. '!“‘fl‘ ‘t. t !i.aii.ii_i i this resentment may lead, considering the hold mrs. herstan has upon the property. it is well known that the younger chisholm sons have been putting all their effort into winding ranch in the hope of bringing it back to something like real productiveness.” mr. chisholm lifted his hands from the machine and dropped them into his lap. “of course, you mean that for me, david, not for the paper.” his tone was hurt rather than angry. “guess that’s about it, dad.” ashamed of his round- about method of approach, david was also relieved that dad had been so quick to understand. now they could come right out in the open and talk. “you’ve got to own up,” david spoke more persuasively now, “that such things don’t promise any too rosy a future to two fellows as enthusiastic about farming as neal and i are.” “why not, dave? i’ve signed over to you two boys, in your regulation future farmer style, the right to use any or all of the whole place any way you wish.” “and what good will that do us—or all the work we’ve put upon it—if you lose the place?” “if that was going to happen, it would have happened long ago. abe herstan never even pressed me.” “but abe’s dead now. and everything he owned be- longs to his widow. and maggie isn’t abe. there’s never any knowing what she’s going to spring next.” “abe’s been dead ’most a year and maggie’s never pressed me, either.” dad spoke as if what he was really saying was, “i’m not afraid of maggie.” if dad wasn’t afraid of maggie, he was the only "“tt_ t t t t ‘ t t t t“‘h'~ shadow over winding ranch person with whom she had business relations who was not, david was thinking. aloud he said, “easy enough to see why. the place hasn’t been worth taking over. it was different in grandfather’s time, of course. that’s why abe was always willing to loan you money on it, money that you never once put back into the place, either—just spent it on some scheme that didn’t pan out, like those burros. everybody knows that’s how our place got to be so run-down and good-for-nothing, and that was before these last depression years when the best farmers haven’t been able to pay their debts and are losing all they’ve got. so we’ve been allowed to live on there, call the place ours—the old chisholm ranch, de- veloped by our grandfather into one of the most sub- stantial country homes near happy wagon valley.” sarcasm had mounted in david’s tone. suddenly it vanished. “it’s a farce, dad, and that’s all there is to it. neal and i would like to go on improving the place, but with the situation what it is——?” david concluded his sentence with a hopeless shrug. “then why do you stick, david? george didn’t. nor steve.” george and steve were david’s older brothers, long since gone from home and independent. it struck david with sudden force that his father might have had similar interviews with them. “because i promised mother i would. at least until neal and valley were through high school. we do get a living off the place, such as it is.” his father was the one person who knew of that promise. the dying mother herself had told him about »~ f ;‘:' ..--- ';'.‘:'. , . . l :~ ‘-t .._,_..’-gg'—~' -_'.~¢;r¢:';_ _. . _»_?-'‘t;,_ '_._ .._..-.__ . "=—'-'- ' " iii- q‘ \ . . - a call on dad it. david almost never spoke of it, but the recollection i of it now softened his mood. he went on in more prac- j , , tical persuasiveness, “besides, george and steve never ll‘ saw any hope in agriculture. they went to high school before farm boys had a chance at the practical, scien- tific vocational training neal and i have had under alex arkins. neal and i have really been doing things, dad— _ _ qi ‘ in a small way, of course—these last years. don’t you -. l ‘ . ;.......... | - ‘ .y q. q ii‘ -n "n it- i-t!! !.‘.‘._p." a_ think maggie herstan’s keen enough to see that? i “maybe, if we go on improving the place for another § year, it will be worth having again. but what’s the use of neal and me putting in all the brain and brawn we’ve j got on a ranch where we haven’t any real security? one i § that could be taken away from us at any moment? sup- _ pose neal and i could raise the money to meet the taxes i p" and pay off the unpaid interest and all that, what good ‘ ill! would that do? the place would still be yours; we’d l i” have no security on it.” the boy paused. did dad catch the implied fear that ' if he, their father, were again in a financial position to ‘i raise even a small sum of money from the place, he might j do so because of some new fantastic scheme? “but if you’d just deed the place over to us, dad——” plead- ingly david’s dark blue eyes, glowing with desperate hopefulness, rested on his father. then the glow snapped off with the suddenness of an electric light as he saw his father’s unmistakable swift refusal. james chisholm’s answer was sharp with new de- cisiveness. “you’re not twenty-one yet, david. and neal’s only eighteen.” “i’ll be twenty-one the tenth of august.” but spirit ~ shadow over winding ranch had ebbed from david’s voice. “neal graduates in june. but valley has one more year of high school. let’s hope maggie herstan lets us stick that long.” ' “she will, dave.” david scarcely noted the remark. to him it was another bit of dad’s usual groundless optimism. in- differently he listened to his father’s next words. “if you think, son, i’ll ever let you and neal tie a debt-ridden ranch around your necks, you’re mistaken in the kind of father you’ve got. i’ll never do it, and that’s all there is to it. there’s no money—not even a living—in farming any more; nothing but a round of ceaseless drudgery that gets the farmer nowhere, just leaves him buried in a lot of hopeless debts and economic problems neither he nor anybody else can solve. do you think i want to see my boys doomed to that? i know what that ranch can do to a young fellow. hasn’t it been the nemesis of my own life? no, david, i’ve got a better scheme than that.” the father had suddenly become all eagerness, lean- ing toward the boy and fairly radiating generosity and confident triumph. “dave, you love the old place. i’ve always seen that. you’re like your mother. you’ve got what she used to call ‘the feeling for the soil’ in you. well, that’s all right. if the old place is what you want, i want you to have it. but not as any millstone hung around your young neck to drag all the life out of you, all the joy of living, for nothing but steadily increasing debts. that’s one thing i simply will not consent to, as i’ve told you more than once before. so i’ve got a secret. i’ve had it ever since i came up here. it’s what i took i i flzr "* ' _ . z. . -.;.py:-._--.._;_;.’-u"-;.~u: t‘; i "i. ll. . ll. r. \ l a call on dad this job for. but i never meant to tell it until the right moment came. i guess, though, that you and neal have a right to know what i’m up to.” dad’s voice had risen until it almost sang. “one of these days—the time’s not very far off, either—i’m going to deed all winding ranch over to you, or to you and neal if he still wants it. i’m not so sure about neal. i’m hoping he’ll change into some other course, drop agri- culture, after he gets to college. when am i going to do that deeding? the very minute i get the old place free of debt. and that’s exactly what it’s going to be as soon as i strike the vein in this tunnel. i’m going to strike it mighty soon now. but nothing will ever induce me to hand the ranch over to you the way it is now. i think far too much of my boys ever to consent to a thing like that.” he paused; then seeing no sign of response in david, went on: “but—free from debt—all newly equipped with the stock you say it needs so badly, with really up-to-date machinery and equipment, with the buildings all re- paired—just you wait and see, dave. only don’t let maggie herstan get a suspicion of my plan; i want to surprise her, get even with her for always being so contemptuous of my schemes. that’s one reason why i’ve kept this one so secret. but it’s what i’m dreaming about and working for all the time. it’s why i’m content to lead this lonely life up here. haven’t you ever guessed that?” dutifully david raised his dark blue eyes to meet his father’s equally blue ones. “thanks, dad,” he managed to mutter, trying hard to make the words sound con- l l i l l ~ a i ll l i l l ! :} l . . vi ! fl l l | i l l ..f.t f“ - i k ’ q - '»... +: , - -~ - . -.‘- —“”.;:.."'::;."':l , , - . i; in .‘ ,., jg l shadow over winding ranch vincing. all censure of his father had drained from him, but hopelessness was seeping through him to his very toes. “no use,” he thought, adding with complete sin- cerity, “dear old dad.” in past years he had thought his mother too easy with his father. he imderstood her better now. he aroused himself to ask, “how about maggie and those burros? suppose she sues you for let- ting them trespass on her property?” “she won’t. but we’ll get them out of her way, any- how. suppose you round up all the little fellows and drive them up here to me. acres and acres of this land belong to the mining company. they said that in place of pay i could have a ten-year lease on the grazing rights any time i wanted it.” instantly david became alert. “and you never told us?” “what was the use? you hadn’t any grazing stock. no use to have. nothing in range stock raising any more.” james chisholm dismissed the subject before david could voice a protest, and continued, “guard, here, hasn’t much to do except when he’s postman. he’ll keep an eye on the burros. they’ll thrive up here and ease my conscience. i’ve always felt bad about the way i went back on those little beasts. sometimes guard and i get sort o’ lonesome up here. they’ll be good com- pany for us, won’t they, guard?” the dog gave a sharp bark of assent. he at least had not forgotten about the newspaper. he was standing alert and impatient to be off. it was david who at last tied the compact roll of typed sheets to guard’s collar. _—_.a . m. ' -._ --~"'.,t<=: -t __ ;. _ :. ' / ;-c#""" l l l l l a i i . __._-~=.__ -_-~.— e . _. . : a call on dad no wonder dad loved that dog, the only real companion of his life. david gave guard a surreptitious pat as he finished the tying. “take care of old dad,” was what the pat really said. the dog’s long, intelligent face with its serious brown eyes looked up at the boy as if in under- standing, his tongue caressing david’s cheek in ac- ceptance of the trust. a moment later father and son stood side by side in the shack doorway, watching the beautiful, dignified animal trot out of sight up the vanish- ing trail into still higher mountain country. then the two said good-bye. both understood it would be well into fall before david came again. as david and the burros started out again on the home trail, the boy braced his shoulders. he had come on this trip in the hope of losing a burden. not only had he failed to lose it; he had acquired the full realization of another. the queer thing was that he was actually glad of the acquisition. in a way it had lightened his load. for it had robbed him of the old unwelcome bitterness against his father and what his father’s way-of life had done to the family and its picturesque old home. for the first time he sensed that back of his mother’s last request, outwardly concerned only with neal and valley, there had lain an unspoken plea, “bear with dad, david, and be good to him.” ' it was late when he turned the jalopy into the home yard, but the kerosene lamp shining from the living- room windows told him neal was still up. he found his brother at the desk, busy, so he said, preparing copy to be sent to the next issue of the colorado future . . l i i l l!. . ,. . . if l \ v i , q ' ! ' : lg ?, .z...‘. .., . _...... . ‘e . .. .". l.£§-' i fl-:."£ _- ‘ci \i. . .m.:l i -i i: i? lli ; ! shadow over winding ranch farmer. he turned toward david with the quick query, “any luck?” “no. except a plan to get the burros out of maggie herstan’s way.” he explained his father’s suggestion. “i’m going to see her in the morning and tell her about it.” sudden interest gleamed in neal’s face. he began ask- ing more questions than david could answer about the camp mule grazing lands. how big were they? what was the prevailing vegetation? how thick was it? how many head would it support? how close was it to avail- able water? “why so interested?” “never can tell when it might come in handy, the way things are.” “how?” david smiled bitterly. “as a place of refuge for us and our few animal possessions if maggie turns us off the place?” neal laughed. “maybe so,” he agreed lightly and be- gan to whistle as he walked off to bed. david stared after him, frowning a little. once in a blue moon neal showed a trace of that baseless optimism of the spirit so persistent in their father. "j i ' - //-/'l ‘a \ ki /' .. ~ , yg- \_. fl k q , . j . \,‘_ j," l . _%h\ (- j/i/’wr'.v ' “'»~.__"/th. ”\% \‘\ . i‘/_'\' \ chapter i v queer maggie herstan ; david hesitated in front of maggie herstan’s front gate. should he enter, or was the time unfavorable? the automobile standing in front of the old-fashioned horse block looked like the one driven by jack haines, the county sheriff. david’s glance rested on the house as if to penetrate its thick walls. one of the oldest houses in wagon rest, it had once been much the finest, and time and lack of repair had never been able to mar its dignity. its originally white brick was dingy now with age. its wooden porches, steps and window casings sagged a little here and there, and were worn to a dark and lusterless gray. maggie’s place occupied an entire block of land, enclosed by a picket ‘ | ll ' .. am: net: » > a i , v _ . l l. iillm " _ . = ‘;i'n'i . shadow over winding ranch fence, once white, now grayed in tone to a harmony with the whole. david admired it, although he did not know exactly why. just then a man came around the house from the back. yes, it was jack haines. david held open the gate so the sheriff could pass through. “hello, dave.” the man paused. “if you’re going in to ask anything of maggie, i suggest you wait a while. she’s not in a favorable mood. i’ve just laid down the law to her. that unsightly fence she built two days ago has got to come down at once and at her expense. as usual, maggie’s not for taking orders from the law or anybody else. and she’s clever at dodges. claims there’s no personal spite work about her fence at all. says it’s a public-spirited protest she’s putting up for the sake of the poor and spineless citizens of the town who can’t afford to have their gardens eaten up by straying burros this summer. she claims it was up to her, as the only person with enough spunk to do it, to force this town to get them off the street and highway. and she doesn’t intend to take that fence down until it does.” david’s eyes brightened under their level brows. “i’ll settle that.” briefly he told the sheriff of his father’s suggestion. the man’s rugged face showed relief. he fairly pushed david through the gate. “go to it, boy. god bless you. you’ve saved my skin. a tussle to the finish with that old woman is something i have no relish for. hope you never get up against her.” “so do i.” david grinned fervently. he walked around the house in the direction from which the sheriff queer maggie herstan __.._---‘ had come. maggie was just in sight at the far end of her deep back yard. david awaited her approach. had he not been born and brought up in wagon rest valley, he would have been surprised by the appearance of the reputedly richest person of the country, now nearly sixty years of age. dressed in a man’s shoes and her customary full skirt, she was plodding sturdily behind a plow drawn by an old sorrel horse which_looked as though he belonged to the same era as her clothes. above the heavy skirt, she wore a tight-fitting black jersey waist, buttoned closely all down the front. on her head, pushed back from a tanned, deeply wrinkled face, was a faded blue sunbonnet. she was plowing up her entire back yard in prepara- tion for her usual big garden. facing david as she traveled slowly up the furrow she was turning, she frowned at sight of him. then she burst into a throaty laugh, so deep it was startling, and yet not unpleasant. “another caller. old maggie herstan is popular this morning. what do you want?” she had turned the furrow to the upper end just be- yond the place where david stood, but she did not pause. instead she guided the old sorrel in a skillful turn and swung the plow about with a strong, masterly mo- tion that made the muscles of her arms bulge under the jersey’s tight-fitting sleeves. the grip of the brown gnarled hands steadied firmly on the handles for the re- verse trip. she had moved away from david almost be- fore he realized it. he had been looking on admiringly at the symmetrical beauty of line in the deep furrows which she was turning with such deft ease. the great queer maggie herstan again. as she turned the horse and plow, as deftly as before, and began the advance in david’s direction, she commented grimly, “so you’ve got grit. well, your mother had it, the quiet kind. i respected that woman.” surprised response kindled in david. “i like grit,” she added. “the kind that’s not afraid to work. but, bah, your generation doesn’t even know what grit is. want their chances in life handed out to them on a tray instead of putting up a stiff fight to get them for themselves. blatting that the world owes them a living and all that kind of bosh, while they let their backbones turn to jelly, leaning on relief. they make me sick.” david forgot to be tactful. “future farmers don’t,” he retorted indignantly. “there’s no industry in the country has had such a tough time these last years as agriculture. but you’ll find precious few future farm- ers on relief.” “that so?” again the words were a challenge but there was a pleased note in them. she had liked rather than resented david’s indignation. “if you don’t want favors, what brought you here?” she finished gruffly. david told her of the proposed plan for the unwanted burros. if she felt relieved as the sheriff had in finding a graceful way out of a difficult situation, she gave no evidence of it, merely commenting, “that father of yours isn’t altogether a fool.” “he certainly isn’t,” david retorted with spirit. this woman kept him in a continually shifting state of emo- tional response that was decidedly uncomfortable; shadow over winding ranch especially when her own poise remained completely unperturbed. “my own abe,” she was continuing, “was as bad at following after crazy schemes as your father is. only my abe usually ended up by making money out of his. that was my doing, though, not his. abe herstan was the kind of a fool a woman could manage. i knew from the start that jim chisholm wasn’t.” the remark seemed entirely irrelevant. this time she had stopped at the end of the furrow, letting horse and plow stand idle, while she foraged with a gnarled and grimy hand among the voluminous folds of her long skirt, as if in search of a pocket. presently the hand emerged, holding a folded paper. she opened the folds and held the paper out toward david, who moved forward to take it. “that really the way it is?” she queried, her gaze focusing on the boy in shrewd appraisal. he lost consciousness of her scrutiny in surprise at what he saw on the paper. it was a diagram of the irrigated fields and pastures of winding ranch, showing his and neal’s plan for a four-year crop program. where could mrs herstan have got it? from only one source, he felt sure. alex arkins. had mr. arkins gone to maggie herstan to try to obtain for him and neal the security they could not get from their own father? if so, had he succeeded? not likely, since he had said nothing about it. it would not be unlike mag- gie, though, to exact secrecy. meanwhile maggie was adding a sharp query, “are you going to have water enough to manage it?” queer maggie herstan lished in the draw, its sole owner? it would be like her, david knew. . but why, then, had she mentioned those karakuls to him, david chisholm, at all? here, as in every situation in which one encountered maggie herstan, there were inconsistencies. there was the remark she had made to david after the speaking contest: “what do you two young chisholms mean, letting that young upstart beat you out?” and there was that recent moment of sympa- thetic comradeship between them which had surprised david. plenty of people said, though, that maggie herstan was not above being a “double-crosser,” that she some- times found a keen delight in being a successful one. she had told him to go ahead with his spring work. why? because she was interested enough in his seed corn experiment to be willing to let him see it through? if so, for whose sake? no use to ask. there was nothing for him to do but obey her bidding and hope for the best. yet he found himself driving homeward with far less lightness of heart than he had had when he had come. "‘% / chapter v mut’s lost chance ldavid’s report of maggie herstan’s reference to karakul sheep and of her having “put mut lamb on to them” brought surprisingly little response from neal. he was too absorbed in getting ready to drive up to his father the burros he had rounded up from the vicinity of wagon rest. since david could not be spared from the ranch, neal had asked mut lamb to go with him. “even after that fence building?” david had de- murred. “no sense in remembering that. since it all came to nothing, the joke’s really on mut.” then he added sug- gestively, “may have another joke on him, too, before long.” mut’s lost chance there were fifty-six of the burros all told. neal and mut were gone several days. it was the kind of outing mut loved. he was a natural mountain man, always at his best in the life of the open wilds. the delay his absence meant in his performance of spring work at home troubled him little. to be back in time for the district speaking contest was his only concern. he did get back in time and he won the contest. when the report of mut’s second success came, neal commented to dave, “the situation’s going well. now, if he can only win the state contest, he’ll get a good trip to utah this spring to compete in the regional.” david’s pride forbade his showing pique about this puzzling statement, even when neal added half apolo- getically, “we don’t want him having it in for us any more than we can help, dave. a utah trip will set him up—he’ll have it over us there, all right.” only after both neal and mut had come home from the state future farmer convention at fort collins did david fully understand what had been back of neal’s remarks. the two boys did not come back together. mut came first, riding past winding ranch not only without stopping or calling out a greeting, but even without so much as a glance toward the house. this was a strange performance, especially after he had won the state speaking contest. “must be sore about some- thing,” david concluded. “maybe he’s jealous of neal’s election.” news travels fast in these days of telephones and radios. already david was proudly aware that neal had been elected state president of the future farmers - . ._. ~ .-.--f - - i ¢ 'r | \ i . i r l | . i ..‘ l l '* '!.‘;i -,-t ’-l “. rt -.. % nil ~ .—_"~ ~.-.~..~; shadow over winding ranch of america. the position would bring work, responsi- bility and opportunity for just the sort of experience neal craved: traveling widely throughout the state organizing new chapters, stimulating sluggish ones, pre- senting to future farmers everywhere the problems the chapters of the state had in common, and leading in their solving. and it would be his duty to help inspire in all members strict allegiance to the ideals for which the organization fundamentally stood: hard practical work and a self-reliant farming program, cooperation, honesty, manhood and morality. it meant, too, the surety that neal would be one of the state’s two oflicial delegates next october to the annual future farmer national convention, held in kansas city. not all of neal’s elation on his arrival home, how- ever, was due to his new office. much of it was due to the man who accompanied neal and alex arkins. the three drove up the draw that sunny spring morning in the stranger’s beautiful new buick sedan. david, busy at the thorough daily cleaning he al- ways gave to the enclosed, wire-floored yards where he kept his young poults, paused in his work and walked forward in surprise to await the car’s approach. it had turned off the draw road through the entrance gate and was pulling easily up the steep grade into winding ranch’s barnyard. the house door slammed in the distance behind him and he heard the house gate click. soon valley’s light-moving, impetuous little figure was beside him. “we must be getting distinguished,” she giggled, “having a new car like that visit us. hard on if i .._- v ' -‘.-_ -sf-'_-f_''- ..'f_-t='i"=":’_ _ ‘ . mut’s lost chance it, coming up that awful road. that’s fit only for cars like ours.” as always david shrank from the open mention of anything to the discredit of winding ranch. the shining car did make everything about the ranch look startlingly shabby. more than ever did he realize how badly the old house needed paint and how the roof he and neal had repaired, and the new porch floor boards and new bottom step they had put in, emphasized that fact. he saw neal cast a disparaging glance over the place as he jumped from the car and held the door open for alex arkins to follow. but it was on the driver of the car that david was centering his attention. ignition turned off and the key in his pocket, the driver, too, had stepped from the car and paused to look around. “so this is the place,” he said pleasantly. he was a man of average height but powerful build. the sturdy independence of his bearing, the deep tan of his face, the athletic freedom of his movements, as well as the careless wearing of his well- made city clothes, stamped him unmistakably a west- erner. neal introduced him to david and valley as mr. deane, manager of the fort collins branch of the western america karakul company, whose central business headquarters were in denver. " the man turned a cordial but keenly appraising look upon david, while neal took a step backward to whisper to valley, “go rustle the best dinner you can get. and don’t waste any time about it.” “i’ll run up after winifred. she’ll be glad to help me.” l . i m ‘c . i " ,‘ q ‘.. % . ; ‘ll-i t'i"" gi' f.fi ’jz§f ‘a‘i‘tfi ifqli i ll h. . .. ‘ ,,"~ii'“‘ q aauqqlj_ lil. vs: t; .j. i i s . . | ..= q._.-.-.—.o.—_z_?= -_ _ ' mut’s lost chance as for david’s. “he understands that we have only a few head of domestic stock of our own, and conse- quently that our place not only needs stock badly but can care for it well—on reseeded, well-grassed foothill pastures in summer and in the pens in the home yards during the winter. he knows, too, that our grandfather went in pretty heavily for sheep that dad lost later, so that we have enough old equipment in the way of sheds and pens that can easily be put into repair for karakuls. it’s possible some kind of an agreement can be worked out between us. so if you’ll just show mr. deane everything, dave——” neal turned to the visitor. “we’re both future farmers here, of course. but, as i told you, my brother’s older than i am; graduated from the high school voca- tional agriculture course a year ago. he’s at home work- ing on the place all the time now, and so, the head boss. he’s been that, really, ever since his .h club days. he had to take his high school work slowly, only a few courses each year. so he’s a pretty experienced man.” david felt dazed. why hadn’t neal prepared him for this? the answer was easy. because of horace lamb. even more, perhaps, because of maggie herstan, who had first put mut “on to” the chance at these karakuls. as for neal’s designating him as the “real boss” of winding ranch, if in one way it was true, in another, it was sheer farce. what about dad? and what about maggie herstan? had neal been as honestly candid with this mr. deane about maggie herstan as he evi- dently had been about dad’s complete failure as a rancher? did the karakul company know that in enter- -_ p..,. .-. .,.qn ......._‘ i ll i i ‘j ;} *»- . . 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'.. --_ i. -i ., ii. ¢,; w. vs : . i shadow over winding ranch ing into a contract with the chisholm brothers, it would be placing its valuable purebred breeding stock on a ranch that might at any moment be snatched from the occupants? david felt somewhat reassured by alex arkins’ at- titude. the teacher was unmistakably sympathetic to the whole situation and be certainly knew to the last detail the entire chisholm situation. if he approved-— david shook off dismay and doubt to rise to the demands of the occasion, and the four set out together on an in- spection tour of the ranch. when the visitor drove away again that afternoon, there was not much about the place he did not know. david had liked the way mr. deane’s few questions probed to the depths of things and the way his eye took in'details. he liked even more the man’s intelligent understanding of all winding ranch’s possibilities. it had awakened a sympathetic admiration in the boy that had loosened his tongue and made him talk with a full candor underlain by eager hopes. and plainly the man had liked david. once neal had overheard him say quietly to the agriculture teacher, “that lad’s all you said he was, arkins. he’s the sort i’m looking for.” the result of the day’s business was a contract be- tween the chisholm brothers of winding ranch and the western america karakul company of denver. david and neal were to be jointly responsible for a year’s care of a flock of one hundred and fifty karakul sheep. it was an experiment, yet no light undertaking, for these animals were considerably more valuable than most farm animals. neal accepted the responsibility s shadow over winding ranch through mut. everybody knows that when the band- stand view of any farm enterprise fades out, he flops.” valley nodded her black curls in vigorous assent. “perhaps,” she suggested shrewdly, “mrs. herstan wanted to get karakuls started on a ranch that will be hers pretty soon.” neal laughed. “if that’s the case, winding ranch may suit her purpose just as well as phantom.” he be- came serious again. “mut, of course, had to go to mr. arkins with the karakul idea, after he’d got it from maggie. to put it over he had to have mr. arkins’ recommendation and backing. well, he didn’t get it. not that anybody told me so in words; i just know it. because, then, alex arkins dropped me a hint to see if i would be interested. and you can sure bet i was.” nobody interrupted this time. neal went on, “there were just two things i was afraid of. first, maggie hers- tan. i decided to risk crossing her. she’s pig-headed, but she’s clear-sighted. and mr. arkins would be sure to let her know that mut lamb’s record left him with- out a chance. second, you, dave. i was afraid that plague-taken scotch conscience of yours might think we were double-crossing mut. well, we aren’t. he got a complete turndown before we even entered the race. i know because mr. arkins told me l\/ir. deane asked to see the complete project record of every boy in wagon rest’s future farmer chapter. and mr. deane didn’t just look at those records, either; he studied them. when he got through, the only boys’ records he showed any interest in were yours and mine—above all, yours. and so we got the chance no other wagon rest fellow i‘\ al\ f-= ? si \ \ / .\-'t§**’.il as ) vd( “i c bapter vi baa, baa, black sheep vi[:>’vo weeks later the karakuls arrived. when the stock car containing them was switched off to the sid- ing at the wagon rest railroad station near the unload- ing chute, the town learned promptly of the arrival and appeared on the scene primed with curiosity and gossip. by this time most people knew about the new sheep: whence they came, what they were, where they were destined to go, and why. comments flowed back and forth plentifully among the onlookers. “some nerve those chisholm kids have got. crazy as their dad, evidently.” “can’t be satisfied with plain farmin’ like the rest of us. got to try some new, high-falutin’ scheme.” baa, baa, black sheep “sure to go smash, too, sooner or later, just like their dad’s schemes always has.” a stocky farmer, known throughout the countryside for his kindly volubility, led the refutation. “don’t you believe it. them kids has a training their dad never had; it keeps their heads screwed on tight and looking straight ahead. they’re arkins’ prize pupils. he doesn’t let ’em do any rumiing ofl after crackpot notions. he keeps their plans centered on the home farm, and the home neighborhood. helps them figure out what’s best for ’em. what’s more, them chisholm kids ain’t one bit afraid of work. no squeal out of them about a forty- hour week.” ' “that’s right,” a lanky, awkward man agreed. “take that young dave. at it early and late on that old, run- down place, pulling it back to something like. yet he ain’t all for himself. he ain’t much for oflerin’ gab, but he’s always willing to talk over what he’s trying to do with any fellow that’s interested. always glad to learn, too, what the other fellow has to learn him. a few more kids like him in this here valley——” “like him?” a sour-faced, slouching man cut in con- temptuously, to the obvious approval of numerous hangers-on in the crowd. “a future farmer, eh? stand- ing for cooperation, personal honor, and a common spirit of helpfulness to all of us hereabouts? looks like it, i must say. why, the idea of getting these karakuls at all belonged first to young lamb. then his two nearest future farmer neighbors got wind of it and deliberately stole the notion, shoving him completely out in the cold while they put it over for themselves. . i.’ .,; i | > ia lul q $ l lilja it dun ii‘ ' lf; . : .'.._... .,;**_‘. - “- ':-' . -'. t i nu h uni v i - i ‘.- his .;‘ : - ll i f shadow over winding ranch yeah—a few more kids like that in this here valley-” although sneers of this kind were destined to be re- peated widely in the days to come, they were inter- rupted now by comments along another line of attack. “whether the chisholm kids are crooks or not, there’s one thing they sure-are. and that’s fools. wasting their young lives on property they ain’t got anything like a good hold on. wonder what old maggie thinks about their gall?” “that’s her business,” a gruff voice interjected from behind the group of gossipers. the men broke apart. they might have known maggie herstan would be promptly on hand at a scene like this. the sour-faced, slouching man turned to her propitiatingly. “ever heard of sheep like these before?” “sure have. as every farmer in a dry grazing country like these hills around should.” she stalked away nearer to the scene of unloading without further explanation. had she deigned to do so, she might have told the onlookers many things, things that david had come to know well from his study and reading this last week. he had learned that karakuls are a breed of sheep intro- duced into this country within the last few years. hardy, desert-bred, they thrive on short-grassed moun- tain range where cattle or other sheep cannot. the strain these sheep came from was shipped over from bokhara in west central asia from a place called kara- kul valley. hence their name. that is why, too, the valuable fur they furnish for women’s coats is called persian lamb. - . the western america karakul company owned i ‘ii baa, baa, black sheep the parent flock. it had chosen this section of the united states in which to build up its herd of high-grade and registered breeding stock. from this herd it had already begun to sell numerous head to individual farmers to start the industry on their own. instead of explaining any of this, mrs. herstan worked her way through the crowd to a point near the chisholm boys. alex arkins was with them. mrs. her- stan’s shrewd eyes could not fail to notice david’s un- hurried management of the worried karakuls as they filed and crowded down the unloading chute into the waiting pen. nor to note how quiet the boy was and yet how alert and quick to act. there was in him a steadiness the sheep seemed to sense and rely upon. she saw david glance in annoyance at surrounding specta- tors, pressing too close. there was that in his face which said, behind a cloak of affability, “well, look your fill, and then clear out, will you? we aren’t going to start to drive these nervous sheep home through any such crowd as you.” almost as if she read his thought, mrs. herstan brushed brusquely past the boy, remarking, “i’ll whip- lash the whole bunch of gawpers out of your way, so you boys can get at your driving.” she set about the task at once. “get along there. an empty right of way belongs to these sheep. no balling them up, either. here, turn into sheep yourselves and follow me. i’ll be the lead ewe.” maggie was as good as her word, clearing a wide passage for the nervous new arrivals and their drivers. did her behavior indicate sympathy for the chisholm i: f , ;_-;niu-;‘u::: nut in alauai x _ :'_'..__'.'. i;-i... .-. -. --. e ~ in ii . i iii il- ,i %a'i'iii=bi‘ tai'{a mi ' ? tf- .u- ‘in "''! i z ‘; .‘ i ' i i‘ ..... ‘ shadow over winding ranch boys in their new undertaking? or was she again only seeking to mystify the crowd as to what her attitude really was? as usual with maggie herstan, one person’s guess about her purposes was as good as another’s. once safely trudging along the wide country road, the nervousness of the karakuls vanished. as long as they could graze along the roadside, they appeared un- aware that they were still objects of curious observation and comment from the sidelines. genuinely interested stragglers from the station crowd persisted in following them for some distance. chief among these was a chunky, friendly, voluble man who, apparently, had acquired considerable information about karakuls that he was eager to impart. he poured it forth importantly whenever oppor- tunity offered. “raised for their fur more than their wool. plenty of wool, though. but they sure aren’t shaped to put on fat. wouldn’t go very well for mutton.” “the lambs are mighty pretty. such black coats, so tight-curled, and so shining glossy even through all this dust. too bad the ewes don’t keep that black color and glossy curl. only a few really black ones among them; instead, about every shade of brown down to light gray. and instead of curling up tight like the lambs, their wool looks awful coarse to me.” “it’s mighty long, though. gets silky again, they say, in manufactured products. used a lot for persian rugs.” “and they use the skin of them cute little young lambs for persian lamb coats?” “got to be younger than these. these are to be raised shadow over winding ranch h nonsense. these creatures are too queer to get run off. could be traced too easy.” “well, they’re purebreds—registered breeding stock, every one of them ewes and lambs. wouldn’t see me lettin’ my kid take over such responsibility—too risky. regular chisholm performance, i call it. shows these kids has sure got their dad in ’em.” “always catty jealous for that kid of yours, aren’t you, hank?” the voluble man retorted slyly. “ever strike you he might show up better alongside other kids if he had a little stiffer example of hard work in his own dad?” the gloomy-faced man went on, “wonder what old maggie feels about the chisholm kids putting stock again on those reseeded hills. can’t tell me she hasn’t been having her eye on ’em.” none of the drivers overheard this talk, which lasted for only a short distance beyond the town. long before the little cavalcade of narrow-faced, fat-tailed sheep had turned up into the rutted road that led up old woman’s draw, spectators had ceased to follow. but waiting in winding ranch’s barnyard were two others, valley and winifred. “oh, the darlings! the darlings!” valley was all en- thusiasm for the little lambs, keeping so nervously close to their mothers. lending a helping hand wherever she could, chiefly in opening and closing pen gates at david’s bidding, her lively black eyes took in rapidly all the details of the flock. “all the grown sheep are ewes, aren’t they, dave? not a ram among them. and the ewes are hornless.” a j __.._..z=;-'¢ '‘-.". ...,_._.-'£“_:.'i;-- _.__— _..-._a_. baa, baa, black sheep “all karakuls are.” david, who was running water into troughs, did not add that these ewes were already bred, would become mothers again in the late fall for the second time that year. the karakul company would send registered rams to be put with the flock when they were needed. david was far less conscious of valley’s continued exclamations than he was of winifred’s quiet interest. it was as sincerely glowing in its way as valley’s, yet at the same time, decidedly troubled. he knew why. for mut lamb to absent himself completely from a scene like this was unusual enough to be significant. suddenly neal called out, “where’s that young brother of yours, win? sulking?” when winifred hesitated in flushed embarrassment, neal answered for her. “good and sore, isn’t he? en- joying himself nursing his wrongs? well, he hasn’t one darn bit of reason to be. if he had had vocational reports that were in the right kind of shape, he would have had as good a chance at these karakuls as dave or i. but a big business company like the wester n america kara- kul company isn’t giving a chance like this to anybody who doesn’t show himself sure to keep the right kind of records. that’s why they wanted some young future farmer in the first place—future farmers keep the kind of records needed in a business like this, and when they don’t, though perhaps they haven’t done the kind-of work that makes it pleasant to have exact records to dis- play, they suffer for it. and you can just tell that young sulk so for me with my compliments. not that he doesn’t know it already. he just isn’t game enough to i "z?-" " :-u”"iii ta an -- la ll it ktllill nun .._.: : tint - . -o“nni' ..i shun a v.__..,“'_..‘ _ 'll...l .- ..__i||\““lxl @ ; ila in , iii |~ ..‘ - ~ ra ' f |,< i-’ ‘ .... -i--f i lg. , . o ii pl > i ii ' -xii‘-. mil h i- ‘i”. ml. i i i i i i shadow over winding ranch own up to his own shortcomings and take the loss that’s the result of them like a man.” david turned anxiously toward winifred. to his gratification she seemed relieved rather than resentful. “i’m glad you told me that, neal,” she said quietly. “i didn’t understand exactly before.” her tone stiffened into sisterly defense, though, as she added, “of course he’s dreadfully disappointed about losing the karakuls. and you know how he al- ways is for a while when things go really wrong with him—has to go off some place where he can get some- thing different to think about and to get his feelings soothed down. like a visit to the airport down the val- ley. or a camping trip into the hills. he rode old sal ofi somewhere this morning and took a little pack, told mother not to worry if he was gone several days.” neal executed a long whistle. “at this time of year? after preparing and planting more acres than he ever has before?” “well, he won’t need the amount of feed now he thought he would.” defense sharpened in winifred’s tones. “since he won’t have any karakuls to winter.” neal’s laugh was more propitiating than his speech had been. “maybe we won’t either. it all depends upon maggie.” he dropped his assumed lightness to ask more seriously, “who’s looking after his poults while he’s away? you?” “yes. i wanted to. i’m going to do his herding for him, anyway.” “and i’m going to do yours, did you know it, dave?” came from valley. “win and i have planned it all out. l - _ _ baa, baa, black sheep we’re going to herd together, on the hills where our two ranches join. that will leave neal free to give him- self to the karakuls, and you, to your field crops—above all, your beloved high altitude seed corn. there won’t be any risk of win and me getting our turkey herds mixed so we can’t separate them easily when we need to. we’ll brand ours extra thick with the white paint streaks on the wings, and she and mut theirs with the red.” david suddenly smiled in gratitude toward his sister. “you really mean, val, that i can trust you to do a thoroughly responsible job of the herding?” “of course i mean it. and of course i’ll be responsi- ble. how can i help being when i’m with such a respon- sible person as winifred? she’ll be a good influence for me.” valley burst into her merry, infectious giggle. “anybody would be glad to be responsible to get a chance like that—to spend the summer outdoors, with win, instead of in a prison of a house, doing house- work.” “we won’t let housework bother any of us,” david grinned. his concem about the summer’s division of labor was over. a far more serious problem was soon to assail him, however. the very next day neal began taking the karakuls out to graze on near-by foothills, bringing them back into the yard pens at night until they should come to know their new home well. the third morning he re-entered the kitchen not long after he had left it for early chores. valley was washing the supper dishes she !—'i—“t‘ri i l q ‘ l i. h n ikiny kji lll‘l.. _” . -“oil * -l :‘ ii fwy a' iz' 'at'’ ' . .. . i i ll; ,|u ' i shadow over winding ranch had left the night before and david was mixing a warm mash for a newly freshened cow. “dave,” neal’s voice brought david to sharp atten- tion, “come on out here and see if i’ve forgotten how to count.” “why?” but david was already with him. “because there are ten fewer karakuls in the flock than there were yesterday. four ewes and six lambs are missing.” valley, hands still dripping suds, darted in her broth- ers’ wake. “and we never even heard a dog bark. i saw an airplane flying over—awful high, though—yester- day.” i i i i _ = .-j_-~ - f /// . ~§ chapter vii a secret recording viejree days later the inference in valley’s remark about the airplane seemed the only plausible explanation of the new sheep’s disappearance. those three days were exhausting ones. spring work laid aside, the boys first spread the alarm, then spent the hours in search, all to no avail. the ten karakuls were gone, seemingly with- out leaving a trace. no one had heard or seen a strange truck anywhere in the neighborhood of old woman’s draw. any tracks or footprints had been largely elimi- nated by a heavy shower the night of the sheep’s dis- appearance. the narrow, rutted road up the draw still held in many places imperfect imprints of dainty hoofs, but apparently all were those of entering karakuls. whether among them were a few headed in the opposite i i i i l ' -'..-i i \\.\‘”-‘:- \ \ ‘\x\x i iii ii-'iii*.i'i'i'..i.\| i in -.'f “‘;'*£i.‘ infra? ' ” ..; .. ,,.-... ~ j! "flu .. "_n_'‘. “j =.'='=;=_=..u_u.\ ,g ,,j.,;,:._la‘~.'-a um um lum- ifi ' i’ -' jun - -f- % fa shadow over winding ranch direction, the partial washing of the rain made impos- sible to teh. on the third evening, after chores were done, three weary young chisholms stood together gazing into the pen where the remaining karakuls were settled for the night. the quiet dusky mass of sheep made a pleasing picture in the night light. the watchdogs, mufti and raven, were stationed on guard. but so had they been on the night of the loss; their failure to raise an alarm was one of the unexplainable features of the situation. “it would have been different if guard were home,” david stated, as he had many times before. but guard was with their father and the burros up at camp mule. none of the chisholms would travel up that way again until after summer work was over. of course, when the big snows of the high country began in the fall, someone would have to bring the burros down. where to? the chisholms had enough on their minds at pres- ent without facing that question. . dispiritedly the young people walked toward the house to sit down on the back step in the deepening darkness and to go over again all the puzzling features of their loss. there was no one the boys knew in the whole neighborhood who could possibly have been the thief. even if there were, he could never have suc- ceeded for long in hiding the stolen animals. all the out- lying country was still being searched as thoroughly as winding and phantom ranches had already been. to be sure, numerous visitors had called at winding ranch during the two days after the karakuls’ arrival, but they had been merely old acquaintances. even the most envi- a secret recording ous and petty-minded of the lot were as incapable of real theft as long years of close contact had proved the entire lamb family to be. there was no other way into the blind draw except up the narrow three-mile road along the stream, and no ranch above the chisholms’ except that of the lambs’. “and that mut lamb still too baby-sore to show up —the only neighbor we’ve got who hasn’t lifted a finger to help search,” neal commented. “how can he when he’s off somewhere camping?” valley laughed. “win’s worried, i think. not about mut, himself. but about his staying away to sulk when he ought to be home helping.” david’s mind was on a more important matter than mut’s resentment. the time had come when letting mr. deane know of the loss could no longer be post- poned. “probably he’ll take the karakuls away from us.” he and neal had already been over the situation thoroughly, agreeing there was only one solution for it so far as they were concerned. as neal had said, “it’ll be pretty hard on us—smash our karakul record all to atoms; and that means, of course, our future farmer of america records. but it can’t be helped. it’s square. and it keeps us from being quitters. we’ll carry out our con- tract. care for the flock, graze them, feed them our grain just as we agreed. our only pay for a good while to come will be the ten lost karakuls. tough as the loss is, it’s legitimately ours, and we’ll stand up to it.” presently david stood up and spoke with decisive- ness. “now you two kids run ofi to bed. i’m going in \ ‘ ii- .s ' n ¢ * . ! i l ll-i ._.db .- an ‘mal . x s. _l‘ .,. s i a ii \ii\li "i§ n "¥'\ i? shadow over winding ranch to write to mr. deane and i want to be alone. it’s a honey of a job and i’ve got to do my best.” “all right, boss.” obediently valley sprang up and away, first stopping to reach up and rumple david’s hair and to drop a light kiss on the rim of his ear. it was her way of trying to cheer him up. neal left reluctantly. he had yielded unwillingly to david’s insistence that writing to mr. deane was his business. david’s reasons, as he gave them to neal, were that he was the older, and moreover, the karakuls were to be his responsibility alone after neal would leave for college in september. sound reasons enough, but david had another. one he had no intention that neal should suspect, much less know. it concerned a decision that it had taken him considerable struggle to reach. he meant to act on it irrevocably tonight. hard as writing that letter to mr. deane was going to be, carrying out the decision he had made in regard to its content was even harder. that was why, even after he was seated alone before his grandfather’s desk, he waited so long before begin- ning to write. just how detailed should the letter be? he decided to make it brief and to the point. it was the account in his project record book that must be worked out in careful and complete exactitude. neal would expect to see the letter. of the project record account, revealing the sacrifice david was making, neal must not have the slightest suspicious inkling for months to come. such secrecy could be managed in only one way—with alex arkins’ full cooperation. that would not be any too easy to get, david knew. well, . l shadow over winding ranch in a kind of accomplishment that he cared, beyond any- thing else, to achieve. well, he could not have the de- gree and that was that. for neal wanted it, too. more than that, to accomplish his life ambition, neal must have it. with half the karakul loss scored against his record, neal’s almost certain chance at receiving it next fall would be jeopardized. such a risk was too great to take. the loss must be recorded as david’s and david’s alone. but no one, least of all neal, must know about it until it was too late to change the season’s filed and endorsed future farmer records in the national office at wash- ington, d.c. alex arkins, of course, would have to know. no wagon rest boy’s record was legitimate without his endorsement. moreover, he would have to help out in managing matters, see to it that david’s rec- ord was officially and irrevocably in at washington be- fore neal’s was submitted. otherwise at the end there might be no managing neal. without more delay david opened a desk drawer, took out his agricultural project record book and his farm accounts ledger, and on both recorded the entire karakul loss as his alone. this done, he restored the books to his private drawer, locked it and put the key on the ring in his pocket. neal would be surprised at the locked drawer, but he would be too proudly sensi- tive to speak of it. secrecy in regard to project details was unlike the open and aboveboard habits of all future farmers, even one as naturally reserved as david. other wagon rest fellows would probably look upon his new silence as unfriendly and queer, like as not would _~ t- a secret recording let their tongues wag among themselves with suggestive insinuations about it. well, it couldn’t be helped. he would just have to ignore their remarks. david went to bed at last. he must be up again before dawn. tomorrow, unfortunately, had to be another day away from the ranch. he and neal were scheduled to take part in a grange meeting in the next county, there to give to those farmers who were ready to start planting a demonstration of the seed corn selection and breeding that had helped the chisholm boys to win their state farmer degrees. also, david had somehow to manage to get in a talk alone with alex arkins be- fore he and neal left town. by riding into town on horseback and leaving neal to finish the home chores and follow in the jalopy, he managed his call upon alex arkins, who was still at the breakfast table. decisively he laid the case before the teacher. just as david feared, mr. arkins balked. “i can’t okay that, dave,” he stated firmly at first. but in the end he yielded, although reluctantly, to david’s un- answerable arguments. “those karakuls are really my project. going off to college as neal is in the fall, he would never have found it worth while to start in on them at all, except as a joint responsibility he could turn over to me when he leaves. more than that, he gave up his chance in the speaking contest so that horace lamb might be coddled and pacified to where he wouldn’t resent too much my getting the stock he couldn’t. the future success or failure with those karakuls doesn’t depend on neal; it depends on me. that’s why it simply wouldn’t be fair ‘ ila .' |: | it ?!‘ i - hr: %; ii’ : in ni i nah : -la lllrlkli au nun n-in. . fun}: . ‘ . - $ ' . . shadow over winding ranch to chalk up any of the loss we ve just had against neal s record. besides, it would be practically a knockout blow to him. why, with that loss against his record he might even lose his chance at winning the american farmer degree at kansas city next october. think what that would mean, mr. arkins, not only to neal, but to colo- rado’s future farmer standing. you told me, yourself, that neal was almost the only colorado boy who had a clear-cut chance this year at the american farmer degree.” “except yourself, dave,” the teacher asserted gravely. “with me it doesn’t matter as it does with neal. without that degree, all hope of advancement in the future farmers of america would be over for him. he wouldn’t be eligible to a single higher office where he could get the training and right kind of experience for the agricultural leadership he cares so much about. look at the way he’s worked to fit himself for it, too, ever since he left his h club days behind. as for me, i don’t care the same about it.” david looked the teacher straight in the eye, uttering the lie without flinching. “my dream’s a different one that the loss won’t hurt so much. you know perfectly well what it is. just trying to bring our old place back a little. make it presentable again as a snug, self-supporting farm and ranch home near happy wagon valley.” the last words jolted both the teacher’s and david’s thoughts away for a moment from the subject at hand. into both minds popped the inevitable query, “bring it back—for whom?” what maggie herstan’s real attitude was toward the a secret recording chisholm acquisition of the karakuls, and the conse- quent loss, not even alex arkins had any idea. she could scarcely have failed to learn of the loss, yet no one had reported hearing her mention it. “well, dave,” the teacher said finally, “if only folks could know about what is on your record sheets, it would certainly put a stop to their——” he broke off in self-conscious abruptness. “talk,” david finished for him with a grin. “don’t think i don’t know about that. valley’s a master at gossip reporting.” he moved away to keep his rendezvous with neal, his thoughts reverting to a talk he had had yesterday with valley. “do you know what a lot of folks are say- ing now, dave?” she had asked. “that losing those karakuls serves you exactly right because of the mean way you horned in on mut’s chance at getting them. i heard some of the searchers say so. and one of them added in a nasty, sly way, ‘if he lost ’em.’ and it seems mostly you, not neal at all, that they have it in for.” david’s eyes had lighted with their sly, quiet humor. “first time i was ever more popular than neal among them.” but valley had not been turned aside. “popular!” she had exploded, then added, “it’s because neal talks to them more about things than you do. anybody could have told the karakuls’ disappearance was a surprise blow to him. how anybody dares to think it wasn’t to you, too—-” she broke off vindictively. “it makes me so fighting mad——” “don’t let it, val,” david had soothed her. “you shadow over vvinding ranch know what mother used to say: ‘gossip is the food of little minds.’ she always claimed that talk like that wasn’t worth noticing, that the only way to meet it effectively was to ignore it. she was always telling me that in a small neighborhood like this, where people know each other’s affairs altogether too well, there was sure to be a lot of talk going on among idle tongues. but she claimed, too, that most of what they say doesn’t really mean much even to the spiteful folks who say it. it’s a kind of surface froth that boils up in them and evaporates in the cooking, while all the while under- neath there’s a lot of mighty sound, substantial sniff that can be counted on to last.” thus staunchly had david voiced, far more emphati- cally than he felt it, the philosophy which his mother had tried to instill in him to protect his boyish sensitive- ness against the community’s good-natured contempt and the give-and-take of popular jokes concerning his erratic and unsuccessful father. was the day never going to come, he thought now with a sort of desperation, when he wasn’t going to have to try to lean harder on that philosophy than a fellow should ever need to lean? at home again that night after the demonstration trip, the chisholm boys learned that mut had come back while they were gone. days went by, however, and they saw nothing of him but passing glimpses, chiefly on the draw road. by the end of the week it was plain that he was deliberately avoiding them. nor did his attitude change throughout the whole summer. shadow over winding ranch kuls. the arid grazing foothills had stayed green with succulent grasses throughout the hot summer months. the bred ewes had thrived and grown fat, and the lambs had frisked and played happily. thanks to neal’s un- ceasing vigilance, losses had been less than was normally to be expected on the range. twice only had lambs be- come the prey of bobcats. both times bullets from neal’s rifle had got the marauder. neal had rarely left his charges. this meant that at times of pressure in other work, such as alfalfa cutting and winter wheat harvesting, david was forced to hire more outside help than usual. yet once in a while neal would lend his assistance, pasturing his flock for a day on closely adjacent foothills. at such times he would spend at least part of the night at home. then he and david would sit side by side on the low front porch of the ranch house talking over their plans. often valley joined them. during the early summer she and winifred had herded their turkeys on near-by range only in the daytime, bringing their flocks back toward nightfall to the ample, wire-floored turkey yards and roosting houses. not until winter wheat harvest was over did they establish their turkey camp on the more distant hilly fields. valley was maturing this summer. under the influ- ence of win’s constant companionship she had more and more assumed real responsibility with the turkey raising. it meant plenty of work, too. david had crowded what help he could into his long, labor-filled days. the rare evenings on the porch were his only times of relaxation. now and then their pleasure was mut calls at last heightened for him by winifred’s quiet presence, when together with her mother she would join the three chis- holms for a restful half hour before bedtime. mrs. lamb was a tall, thin woman, as quiet of marmer as her daughter, but in a different way. winifred’s quiet was always alert; back of it lay the warmth and eager- ness of serious-minded youth, interspersed with fre- quent gleams of shy humor. her mother’s quiet was that of a woman who was worn, tired and discouraged. yet the warmth of motherly feeling was there, kindling now and then to surface flames which shone out over the entire group of young people, all of whom tacitly un- derstood that it was for mut those flames reserved their fiercest burning. as for mut, himself, not once all that summer did he join them on the porch. at first the young chis- holms would inquire for him, but the way winifred kept silent and mrs. lamb arose in apologetic defense of her absent son soon made such inquiries cease. no- body even mentioned any more how queer it was that such near neighbors as the chisholms and mut could manage practically never to see each other. mut was certainly carrying out his unmistakable desire of avoid- ing all contact with the chisholms. often, too, he really was away from home. although he did not neglect his farm work altogether, he did it spasmodically and in the usual halfhearted fashion, seizing every opportunity he could find for fishing trips into the mountains. very often summer fishermen, coming from cities for moun- tain camping outings, wanted someone to guide them into hidden mountain lakes or to trout streams well off i i i shadow over winding ranch the traveled roads. for such work, which he enjoyed, mut would hire out for any pay he could get. one moonlight evening after the departing figures of winifred and her mother had vanished up the draw, valley, lingering on the steps with her brothers, com- mented, “mut’s home tonight, all right. but he’s still ashamed to come near us. that shows how guilty his conscience s.” from neal came the retort she had invited. “guilty? for what?” “the lost karakuls, of course.” she spoke with pro- vocative relish. “nonsense. mut may be a sorehead and a sulk. but he’s no thief.” “oh, i don’t mean he stole them. but i think he was mad enough those first days to carry his spite work pretty far. do you suppose, for instance, he might have tipped off some strange pilot down at the airport about where some valuable karakul sheep were to be found? you know how he’s always loved to hang around the airport; it’s such a grand place to get an audience among hangers-on and gossips.” “nonsense,” chorused her brothers again, while neal added in amusement, “you need hobbles on your imagi- nation, val.” the scom faded out of valley’s tone as she admitted, “of course, mut’s not really such a mean kid as that. that’s why, if he did have a hand in anything of the sort, he’d be mighty sorry and ashamed about it by this time, even if he is too big a coward to own up. maybe that’s why he keeps out of our way. or maybe he’s mut calls at last afraid one of us might try to worm his guilty secret out of him, and that’s why he’s cold-shouldered winding ranch this summer ahnost as much as maggie herstan has.” she gave her black head a saucy toss. “i for one miss him just as little as i do her.” “do you mean,” david grinned in teasing mockery, “that you think he’s hobnobbing with her?” “mercy, no,” she laughed. “why should he? any- thing but.” winding ranch, however, had numerous other sum- mer visitors, chiefly interested ranchers who came to see the karakuls. the boys always welcomed them gladly. it was part of their obligation to mr. deane to convince men who owned grazing range that karakuls were de- sirable stock to purchase. often alex arkins brought such callers. often, too, he visited the ranch to watch the growth of david’s corn. largely because of that corn, david suspected, the teacher more and more regretted his promise not to divulge what he knew of david’s locked-away project records. on several occasions alex arkins brought with him seth norton, the sandy-haired, dynamic little county agent, to inspect that corn. on their last visit, only a week ago, mr. arkins had said, “don’t forget to give dave an application blank, norton, to fill out and send in to the laboratory at the state agricultural experiment station, so that he can get this corn ofiicially registered as seed. he hopes to sell most of it as seed to a lot of the valley folk next season. let one or two of them come to look at this field and he won’t have any trouble finding buyers.” shadow over winding ranch “and i’ll send him plenty more,” came the enthusi- astic response, as mr. norton began examining the high, straight rows of strong thrifty stalks, heavily marked with filling ears. from farther up the row, his voice came back again, “going to select from the field, of course?” david answered perfunctorily, “medium-sized, uni- form ears, from the healthiest stalks.” proudly he added, “i hope to begin next week.” and for the past several days every available minute he could find for the task had been devoted to the select- ing. not often did he allow himself a rest of a few min- utes to study the sky. now, as he did so, he decided it looked like more rain. there had been an unprecedented amount of rain this summer. usually old woman’s creek was bone dry by this time of year. now it was still almost bank full. so, too, was the old reservoir, often practically drained by august. except for worry about those old reservoir banks holding, david had been thankful for the sum- mer’s abundance of water. irrigating had been a real pleasure. he had been able to do it without thought of stint at just the right time and in the right quantities. there had been no occasion for contention with mut over the lambs’ using more than their share and conse- quently leaving both ranches with scant supply for late season needs. it had suited david very well indeed that mut held himself aloof this summer! for the next two or three harvest weeks, though, david admitted, he wished the rain would stop. two cuttings of alfalfa were already attacked but the third shadow over winding ranch nevertheless experimentation had gone on. patience and intelligence and work were begimiing to win out through cooperation between growers and the state agricultural experiment station. alex arkins’ father had been interested in the problem. he had even grown a fair-sized crop on his own valley farm from seed he had sent to minnesota to secure, known as minnesota . david had obtained his first seed from mr. arkins. there was a good chance, mr. arkins believed, that through crossbreeding there could be developed a variety of corn really adapted to colorado’s climate and colorado’s need. such was the problem that had appealed to the young dave. there had been a challenge in the very difficulty of working it out that he liked; he wanted to have a hand in it. he had been only a shy, industrious young h club boy in those days, rarely voicing his dreams to anyone, scarcely acknowledging them even to him- self. but when he entered high school under alex arkins’ teaching, david’s reserve began to break and his dreams to emerge into action. for years now he had worked toward the achievement of this very field of corn, preparing the soil carefully through a four-year rotation, the last crop of which had been alfalfa; enrich- ing it with manure of which winding ranch’s supply was all too meager. this year, he knew, he had a better field than even alex arkins’ father had ever had. gone now was the fear that maggie herstan might not “hold off” until he could show results. he forgot, too, the often haunting fear that perhaps she might be mut calls at last allowing him to continue merely for some sinister pur- pose of her own. of course, the situation being what it was, there would be no technical dishonesty in her seizing for herself his own success. carefully he dumped his now burdened sack at the end of the row. he could select no more for the pres- ent, he decided. instead he would drive the wagon down to the field to gather up all the corn he had picked and carry it back to the drying shed before the shower broke. somewhat later he was carefully stowing his load ear by ear on the drying racks of his own recent con- struction, so that the air could circulate freely about them and make the drying process steady and even. thunder crashed over his head and he scarcely heard. swift rain pelted noisily down in a great burst on the roof but he forgot to worry about it. it might be only a shower, after all, and in his present mood the sound of it became music to him. the roof and the whole shed was rainproof. it was rarely he took time off out of his industrious days to daydream but he felt like it now. to do it once in a while did a fellow good, he knew. it stimulated the blood and the spirit far better than the headiest wine. but like any stimulant, it must not be overused. dad had overindulged in it until it had eaten into his steadiness of purpose, and weakened him to a state of irresponsible neglect. was something of the same thing the matter with horace lamb? perhaps, but mut was a sulking baby, too, still nursing a grievance because he ilqniq -'. ....-..n-* v'-_..---.'_‘‘...._a_ v o i i i l shadow over winding ranch hadn’t got the karakuls. queer that the thought of mut should pop into his own head now. suddenly he knew why it had. from somewhere up the draw, near the place where phantom and winding ranch boundaries met, mut’s voice was coming faintly. mut was evidently calling someone, each cry seeming to come from nearer by. the words grew more distinct. “dave! dave chisholm! whereabouts are you? are you anywhere around?” the voice rang sharp with excited distress. david walked away from the shed. “here i am. what is it?” he moved toward the other boy, whom he now saw plunging down the roadway along the streambed. without waiting to come within speaking distance, mut half-shouted, “cloudburst—an awful one. followed by big flash floods. started up in that deserted mining country. vvhere our dads are!” “how do you know?” “special news item. over our radio. just got it. even the announcer was all stirred up. i’ve got to get there. i told mother i would. i want your car, dave. ours won’t run. anyway, we haven’t any gas.” “i’ll take you.” “all right.” mut looked relieved. it was plain that he found the prospect of dave’s companionship highly welcome. but if he realized it was a little queer in him to come first to dave in the emergency, after his sum- mer’s behavior, he showed no awareness of it. his in- herent honesty came out, however, in a murmured protest, “your dad’s safe enough. the camp mule and mut calls at last those open valleys around it aren’t in the direct path of any flash flood stream. it—it—” the boy shuddered nervously, “started, they say, up at the head of cub canyon. that’s above the angela mine.” david hurried his preparations. mut hovered in his wake, pouring out nervous snatches of talk between lips that trembled over half-chattering teeth. “that an- nouncer said rain was pouring down in sheets over in that country. out from a big black cloud that spread down over the federal highway. the flood came down cub canyon first, filling it full, and it was only a minute before it reached the place where juniper creek joins it. from then on it wasn’t even a big roaring river any more, the announcer said. it was a wall of water tearing down into the canyon below over the federal high- way—smashing everything—trees—summer cottages- whole resort towns—and-and—people.” david did not answer. there was nothing he could say. he knew the swift and deadly onslaught of flash floods. he took complete command, mut obeying his orders with a willing alertness that david was to call to mind at a later time. now, as he put away the wagon and team, got out the jalopy and closed up the barn and sheds, david scarcely noticed it. mut, at david’s bid- ding, rode bareback up to the turkey camp to tell the girls he and dave were leaving. either winifred or val- ley would have to let neal know about the situation so that he could bring the karakuls down from the more distant home-range foothills where they were grazing to within easy distance of the ranch—near enough for him to take charge of the home chores. _-.__- <i q i i i i i i shadow over winding ranch “we likely won’t be back tonight,” david had said. he cast a regretful look over his corn field as the jalopy, with him and mut in it, shot past. one good thing, the field selection was nearly done. he’d finish those last rows as soon as he got home. €/ l~ z’ l _ al ._. \..__ » \ \ i\ \‘= ‘ i \w .“ :\ \ s’ _\ .l \l . \“ -€\ ll ~ ia; . q ; i -§\».»\ . - § \.»\'*\ . /\“\ , " » j ,;— i /. ' . -. \-/ " aw "*/¢ y“-,~ / "’i?;: tt“\ i if av /i<- ' - chapter ix flash flood wor of the draw they sped through driving rain over the way david had followed on his last visit to his father. but they did not reach camp mule, much less ride over the mountain ridge beyond it into cub canyon, where the angela lay. they did not get even halfway there. for no longer did any road lead up and into that last post oflice, store and garage, which was the jumping-ofl place into the rough trails that led over into the camp mule country. more than that, all the upper reaches of the federal highway were washed out. the boys began to realize that never before had there been a flash flood to equal this one. leaving the car be- hind them, they plodded ahead on foot until they were .-’,:.....~‘ ... u q.si-: .,-;¢ .-., ' ‘l .l | ‘i : : i shadow over winding ranch halted beyond the canyon entrance by a rope barricade guarded by several patrolmen. they approached the uniformed man who was successfully blocking any fur- ther advance on the part of flocking incomers. “you couldn’t possibly let us make our way up a little far- ther?” david asked. a stubborn refusal hardened in the officer’s face, un- til mut added with such simple honesty that the truth of his statement was unmistakable, “you see, my father was in charge at the angela. boss of the six men work- ing there.” the refusal in the officer’s face thawed a little al- though the grimness held. “cloudburst got its start in that canyon,” he stated. “the flood water surged into this canyon first from up that way. can’t be much left up there. everything washed down, trees, rocks, mine buildings, machinery——” he hesitated a second, then, “all right. if you two boys can obey orders, you can join the rescuers. pick your way along high up to where you find the first officer in charge. report to him.” he beckoned them swiftly under the rope, at the same time holding back the pressure from the gathering crowd. a young man wearing a newspaper reporter’s badge, whom the oflicer evidently knew, also ducked under the rope. “found anything yet?” he queried. ' “two or three bodies. not identified yet. pretty badly smashed. must have been swept down a long way.” the oflicer waved a hand behind him vaguely without turning his head from the scene in front. “there’s a high-pitched cabin about three miles or so flash flood up that they’ve turned into a morgue. you ll find ’em there.” mut’s boyish face blanched through its thick coat of tan. david stepped ahead of him. “just follow me, mut. i—i’ll go in that cabin first-and look-when we get there.” mut nodded in dumb gratitude, following obediently. the reporter stayed with them, as they made their way single file over rough, irregular ground, now treacher- ous with slippery mud and stones. the man had his notebook out and kept shouting questions at them through the roar of the angry water rushing just below. he wanted to know who they were, then all about their fathers. it was david who shouted back all the answers. the usually loquacious mut had nothing to say. all the while the thick gray rain fell about them so heavily that the reporter’s writing blurred on his wet tablet page almost before he had got it down. although it was not long before all three were wet to the skin, they felt a certain gratitude for the heavyrain which was thick enough to veil much of the distressing scene below them. the boys were grateful, too, to the news- paperman, when once or twice groups of rescue workers, catching a glimpse of the three plodding forms, hailed them with requests of assistance, and he explained why, for the present, they could not linger. when at last they reached the designated cabin, standing sturdy and untouched as yet above flood dam- age, it was he who made entrance for the boys easy. but only david stepped inside. mut hovered behind him, partly in the doorway, partly without in the now more i i i i i in it la \ ‘ _..__..|._, .._- . '.._..‘-. _.. _ ailllii ii! in'-._"_ .mli‘ .. . -ii n ..t '-$ ‘hi z ii g ?q:‘ei ll shadow over winding ranch gently falling rain. the long tongue of dense black cloud that had reached down so low over the canyon’s length was begimiing to spread out and dissipate into lighter layers of gray and the dimness was paling again into daylight. david stayed inside the cabin only a moment. the first body he saw, lying on a cabin bed nearest the door, was that of silas lamb. despite the almost incredible speed and ruthlessness of its late cruel journey, the head had remained remarkably unbattered. reverently david covered it again with the cotton counterpane and stepped back toward mut. but he did not need to speak. for mut, too, had been standing near enough to see. his round, boyish face, often so bright with cocky good nature, still held its expression of shrinking horror. david took him by the elbow and led him gently outside. mut rallied gratefully to the touch, as sym- pathetically and quietly david explained to him just what he must do. identified dead and injured persons were being carried out by rescuers to places from which transportation out of the flooded areas was possible. mut must go with his tragic burden. “there’s your mother and winifred to think of, mut. they’ll need you down there. but you’ll want help. there’s neal; he’ll do all he can even though he’s only a boy. you can count on alex arkins, too. he’ll never fail one of his boys when he needs him. as for me—well, i’ve got to stay up here a while.” “why?” the one word voiced all mut’s longing for david to go with him. david shut his heart to the plea in it. “because i’m =—t=—-..-- flash flood she and her little ones had been rescued. but only now, two days later, had her insistence been rewarded. mean- while, clad in queer garments commandeered from a dry cabin, she had been doing her part by preparing hot coffee and food for exhausted workers. “to do a trifle toward paying my debt,” she said. like david she now followed the searchers to the upper cabin and stood beside the boy when roughened, gentle hands laid down the battered burden. “it’s he,” she said with quiet reverence, “the man to whom i and my two little girls owe our lives. other people, too, very likely, before us.” fervently she added, “a hero —if god ever made one.” she was not speaking to david or to anybody else. but he answered, saying swiftly, “he’s my father. i—i knew he’d be here.'i knew we’d find him—like this.” so true were the words that the boy was scarcely even conscious of shock. it was david’s turn to leave the scene of disaster as two days before he had bade horace lamb to do. at his first opportunity he telephoned his brother george in denver. luckily george chisholm was in his office. briefly david explained his whereabouts and gave his sad news. “i’ll get in touch with steve right off,” george said. “we’ll start at once for the ranch. get there as soon as you do; maybe before. don’t worry, dave. steve and i’ll take care of everything.” david knew what his brother meant. george would not only take charge of things at home; he and steve would be financially responsible for all that needed to be shadow over winding ranch done. david was grateful. conscious at last of great physical weariness, he was even relieved at the thought of george’s assertiveness. always in any situation in which he was involved, george’s dominating nature forced itself to the position of control. as a small boy david had had many a bitter moment of rebellion against his oldest brother’s commanding manner. now he wel- comed it. he felt suddenly sorry for horace lamb. mut had no older brothers. . the feeling held until the day after james chisholm had been laid away beside his wife in the picturesque spot of land above the valley river bank. that ground had long ago been set aside as the last resting place for those who called the little town of wagon rest home. james was of the third generation of chisholms who rested there. if people were asking each other in sub- dued whispers how long the fourth generation of chis- holms would now be allowed to live on the old home place, no one was unkind enough to express the ques- tion openly. although silas lamb had been laid in the same ceme- tery two days before, no such funeral as james chis- holm’s had been his. for james chisholm had died a hero, giving his life for that of a child. tales of his heroism had traveled from rescuers to newspaper re- porters and radio announcers, and through them had spread throughout the land. the neighborhood that had so often spoken of james chisholm with amusement, ridicule or contempt, laid him away at the end with tenderness and pride. if no part of his life became him like the leaving it, that, too, they forgot. never again flash flood c ’l\ if) would a young chisholm need to blush or to apologize for his father. even brisk, businesslike george, man- aging everything, felt that deeply, david could see. it was right, david thought, that george should manage everything. not only was he the oldest son; he and steve had assumed all the ‘money obligations. although they had done well as businessmen in denver, they were far from aflluent and they were married and had young families. david was warmly grateful. “the situation you kids are left in is hard enough,” george had said, “without your having to assume any of the expense.” ]ust what george meant by the first part of the remark david did not ask. but fear crept into his heart and lodged there. other remarks made the fear grow, such as, “dave, you and neal hand out some work clothes to steve and me. while we’re here, we’ll do what we can to help you save some of your crops while there s still t time. that’s grand corn. lucky for you, with all this late rain, you didn’t get a flood of your own down the draw.” the phrase “while there’s time” left david too troubled to explain that he and valley and winifred had discovered why the draw had been saved from a flood. an injured beaver the two girls had lately nursed back to health had somewhere found a mate and together they had built a dam just below a break in the reservoir; other- wise, flood would have been inevitable. - david was more than usually silent these days. valley seemed to understand why even better than neal. she clung to david, surprisingly silent herself, the vivacious ~* i l ._ q__| .-’;-.'. t..ilfl. r.. :_::'i”:__‘-_;.|;; .. .-.-an: shadow over winding ranch brightness of her dark eyes quieted into a sort of steady dread. “dave,” she asked once, “did george say any- thing to you about me?” when her brother answered briefly in the negative, she gave no explanation of her words. at another time she asked, “dave, did you see maggie herstan at father’s funeral? she stayed off all by herself, winifred says; didn’t speak to a single soul. but she went to the cemetery.” “i know.” he, too, had seen maggie herstan at the funeral. for a moment resentment had surged through him. at a time like this, couldn’t she at least stay away from them? the morning after the funeral george asked david to drive into town with him. “i want to consult two or three people. make sure i’ve got the situation our affairs are in absolutely straight,” he explained, adding, “you’ve been a brick, dave, not only to mother, but to the kids ever since she died. you’ve carried more of the load than steve and i ever should have let you. but you are free at last and i for one am mighty glad for ou. have ou an lans?” y “not yeti” y p on the way in, george commented, “well, there are five of us, all dad’s heirs. heirs to what? nothing but debts. yet our grandfather was well-to-do, a real land- owner.” the words held no bitterness, merely stated facts. when they reached town, george asked, “want to come with me, dave? now that you’re of age, it’s as much your business as mine.” “no, thanks. i’ve business of my own to attend to.” the brothers were in town two hours. david went at flash flood once to alex arkins. they held a detailed consultation about chisholm affairs that was explicit beyond any they had held before. then together they went to the bank. there they held another consultation with the bank officials. when it was over david proceeded directly to the corner drug store where he and george had agreed to meet for the homeward trip. but george had not yet arrived. as usual, a group of town loafers, one or two of whom were decidedly deaf, were gossip- ing near the rear of the store. david did not approach them. but while he waited, watching through the long front windows for the approach of george’s bright new car, the loud, unguarded tones from the back of the room reached him easily. “heard old maggie’s latest? she’s taking over phantom ranch without waiting for si to grow cold in his grave.” “how can she? law allows a nine months’ notice, don’t it, before a forecloser can take over?” “sure. but it seems the nine months’ notice on the lamb place is already up. and the family never so much as knew it. si did, of course, but he never had the nerve to let on to his family. might be, of course, the situation had a little something to do with maggie get- ting a touch of tenderheartedness last spring when she tipped young mut off about trying to get them karakul sheep. if he could have got ’em, folks say, and showed he meant to get down to real work for ’em, she might have called the foreclosure off.” “so young chisholm horning in on mut’s chance was an even dirtier deal than we already calculated.” vin- dictive pleasure was in the cracked old voice. had the i l u - . mn.aa ll ll: . ibiitjiq luxury. i i'd n f . l .- . shadow over winding ranch old codger’s eyesight been too poor to recognize david at the front of the store? or had the shrill barb been sent intentionally? and was it personal defense or merely love of argu- ment that prompted the retort the old fellow promptly received? “not so sure of that, myself. reckon maybe young lamb could have got ’em all right, if he could have measured up with the company. if he got a flat turndown from them—and there’s some say he did- that would sure settle things for him with maggie.” “tough on the family all the same,” another voice intoned nasally. “si, they say, ain’t left ’em a nickel. never gave ’em from his pay more’n enough to eke out a living with. they’ll sure miss it now, though, that it’s gone. but what did he do with the rest of it? pay off any of his debts? not much. gambled it all away on worthless mining stock. trust maggie to know what was going on and to have no patience with it.” “that’s so,” the former shrill-voiced one agreed. “the case was different lately with chisholm. he never had nothin’ to pay with.” the honk from george’s car outside broke into david’s listening at this point. with mingled relief and reluctance david hastened to obey its summons. neither brother spoke to the other on the way home of the business he had done in town, except for george’s saying, “dave, we five had better all get together this afternoon so we will all be sure to have a clear under- standing about everything.” david did not ask what george meant. he knew. and he was ready. j\ i l l l z / / " '/r;-./."' i/( {l// " . . '// / ’”// ' / \ \\ / ;;/ / e ll” , _ / \_ chapter x family conclave i[)avm was the last one to appear at the family con- clave. he had managed a preliminary interview with neal behind the farthest alfalfa stack, out of sight of the house, but even when it was over he did not immedi- ately follow neal into the house. he was not yet quite in the mood for what he knew was to come. he needed first some solitary communion with these long, winding fields along the stream bank of the draw and the out- rolling foothills beyond them. “for a bracer,” he told himself with a grim smile. he had no hope of being able to make george understand how he felt about this old place, and george was a very decisive person. well, he would soon find he had a younger brother who could be even more determinedly firm than he. l l l l shadow over winding ranch they were all waiting when david entered the homey, shabby old sitting room. the strain of the mo- ment made the familiar scene stand out with unusual distinctness of detail. david’s eye swept the old-fashioned furniture, nearly all of his grandmother’s day, never re- plenished but still dignified even in its shabbiness. but far clearer to him were the expressions on the faces of his three brothers and his sister. the sense of strain was in them all. some of them dreaded this interview as much as he. even more, he was suddenly aware, for to his own surprise he had already begun to feel something of the satisfaction of inner power as he faced it. neal was the only one who had sat down. there was something boyishly pathetic about the attempted care- lessness with which he had draped his long figure in that threadbare armchair. valley stood stifliy back against the farther door, like a frightened child, her usually animated face pale and still, her big dark eyes full of startled uncertainty. something of relief swept across her face as david entered; she kept her eyes fixed upon him. “i won’t fail you, kid,” he thought. she and george had never “hit it off” very well. from baby- hood she had never had the attention from him that her other brothers had given her. there had always been something a little hard in george. and, on the other hand, always, too, a certain power in him—a power that was evident now in the way his personality dominated that of the others in the room. he was as blond as neal and nearly as tall, but much more impressive of figure, partly because of the way his greater maturity had filled out his frame with family conclave solid flesh, and partly because in his alertness there was an assured aggressiveness not found in the less experi- enced neal. although he was rarely really unkind, there was in george a lack of sensitive perception of how other people felt about things that gave force to his own decisions, making him always dominatingly sure that these were right. steve looked more like david except for the eyes. not so tall as his blond brothers, he, like valley, was dark in coloring as their mother had been. a little less compactly built and sturdy of frame than david, he was as quiet of manner and as reserved of speech. but he lacked something that david had, an inner firmness that meant independence of will. from boyhood steve had been george’s shadow. in a way he still was. george had given steve his chance in denver; steve held there a subordinate position under his older brother in the office of a large advertising firm. in any family conclave it was a foregone conclusion that steve would stand with george. subconsciously all five persons in the room knew and accepted this before a word was spoken. sub- consciously, too, all five knew, as david stepped so quietly into the room and took his place by perching on the arm of a chair that faced all the others, that here was the one personality among them capable of chal- lenging george’s domination. unconsciously george, himself, was aware of it and he showed his feeling in the slight irritation with which he greeted david’s tardi- ness. david gave no sign of answering irritation, merely ex- plaining, “i had one or two things i wanted to think shadow over winding ranch through first before i came in. he made no attempt to take the floor. he left that to george, who promptly assumed it. as all expected, george had already settled the future for each of them. with brisk clarity he out- lined his decisions. all five of them, george explained, were equally their father’s heirs. but he had left them literally noth- ing. the only possession he had had on earth was his tenuous hold on the title of winding ranch; and that, with all the unpaid mortgages, interest and taxes against it, was less than nothing, considering how times were with the farmer everywhere and how impossible it was to find a purchaser these days for even an unfettered ranch. there was only one sensible course for the chisholms to pursue, he announced. turn over the whole place to the creditors. that would at least leave them free of debt, perhaps a better heritage than they had dared to hope for. ' at this point george paused, merely as a matter of form, for approbation. it was plain he did not dream of opposition. promptly steve gave the desired approval. none of the others spoke. the eyes of both valley and neal were centered upon david—valley’s terror- stricken, neal’s worried and full of questioning. david did not return the glances. he kept his listening pose, waiting for more to come. george went on, disposing of the family, “i’ll attend to all the business details, of course. the way things are, it won’t take long. neal and valley being under age, the court, of course, will appoint me their guardian. shadow over winding ranch ing david’s attention. the younger brother gave it, maintaining his quiet poise, while the other went on, repeating, “as for you, dave, i’m not sure yet. but i’ll find a place for you, never fear. you’ve been a brick these last few years, the way you stood by mother first, then by the kids, even by dad. he’d have starved out up there long ago if it hadn’t been for you, and i mean to do my best to find a plan for you that shows you that steve and i really appreciate all you’ve done.” “do you really mean that, george?” the words were serious and thoughtful, in no way flippant. “i certainly do.” david shifted his level glance to his next older brother. “you, too, steve?” ‘ “you bet,” steven answered cordially. david’s gaze traveled back to george. “then turn winding ranch over to me. relinquish your rights and put the title to the entire place in my name.” he paused. the dramatic silence of complete surprise pervaded the room for a long instant. then david went on, “with the ranch as an inheritance divided among five people, i agree with you the situation is hopeless. let me swing it alone and i’ll make a go of it. i’m not asking for any financial help, you understand. what i ask is that the rest of you sign your claim on the place over to me and let me assume personally all the obligations against it. i can get a loan to cover immediate needs, enough to put the whole situation of the place once more on a thor- oughly businesslike basis. after that——” he smiled. “i’ve raised too much poultry in coyote and bobcat country ever to count poults as turkeys before they’re family conclave grown. but—if i don’t make a go of it, it won’t be any- one’s fault or loss but mine and”—the quiet modesty of his tone rang out with new confidence—“it won’t be for lack of trying.” valley took an impulsive step toward him. “and i can stay with you, can’t i, dave? keep house for you? herd turkeys?” her somber eyes had brightened sud- denly. david smiled at her. “i’m counting on that. how could i get along without you?” relief made valley feel guilty. “of course, i appre- ciate your wanting to look after me, george,” she began. but george was completely unaware of her. he was already expostulating with david. george’s heated argument lasted for more than a half hour, steve taking a rather surprisingly emphatic share in it. neither of them had any selfish motive in trying to discourage david about his plan. the arguments they put forth were those david had heard more than once from their father. david was too young, too inexperi- enced, to realize what he was doing, george and steve said. to burden his youth with the responsibility he was assmning was, under present agricultural conditions, the very height of folly. he was sentencing himself to a life of hopeless drudgery, tying around his neck a crush- ing weight he would never be able to shake off. by the time he was old enough to realize what he had done, it would be too late for him to turn successfully to any other means of livelihood. how could they sit silent and see one of their young brothers let himself in for any- thing like that? shadow over winding ranch throughout, david, strictly maintaining his self- control, stayed quietly but firmly obdurate. in the end he had his way. the final stroke came when george commented with a satisfied smile, “after all, steve, we’re wasting a lot of valuable time trying to save the kid. fate’ll do it for us. the way times are, he’ll never be able to get that loan for straightening out the financial situation that he’s talking so glibly about.” quietly david dropped his bombshell. “i’ve got it already,” he said. “arranged for it yesterday at the bank.” “a federal loan?” “if i should need it. the bank, however, thinks it can get me a local one.” “well, i’m punctured flat,” said steve, sprawling back in the chair into which he had dropped. admiration such as he often had for his brother george now beamed wonderingly out of his mild dark eyes toward david. what that wonder really said was, “somebody in this place has a lot more faith in the kid than his own family has given him.” the effect of david’s announcement upon george was entirely different. he sprang up with dynamic brusqueness from the edge of his chair. “that settles it,” he stated. a long moment passed while his keen blue eyes rested on david in an appraisal that changed gradually into respect. for the first time in family circles george had met his match, and recognized it. more than that, he accepted it. no longer did his “bossiness” have the ruthlessness of his boyhood days. business contacts with family conclave men had taught him to meet defeat gracefully when he had to. he did so now, proceeding to go over carefully with david all the rather complicated details of wind- ing ranch’s financial situation. his genuine spirit of l clpf ll css prevailed until he and steve left to return to denver. before that happened, however, valley had inter- jected a most disturbing comment. “and you aren’t afraid of maggie herstan any more, dave? you think she’ll let us stay? let you fix up about owning the ranch, i mean, the way you say?” “the bank says so.” “then why is she so mean to the lambs? win told me while you and george were in town that she had told them they would have to get off phantom ranch by next week. and they haven’t any money. or any place to go. it—it’s dreadful.” “that’s not our worry. we’ve enough of our own.” the remark was george’s. “come on, dave. let’s go over this. get everything straight before i leave. we haven’t any time to waste.” david battled down the anger that had flared in him at george’s first remarks. with an eflort he brought his concentration back to the business he and george must discuss. but the glow of triumph at his own recent success had been disturb- ingly dimmed by valley’s news. he was especially troubled for winifred’s sake. for a long time now she had borne the real brunt of the load over at phantom ranch, as he had at winding ranch. he would go over to see her tonight, he decided. a bitter salvation she believed mut to be suffering from a guilty con- science. could it be that out of spite mut had really impulsively “tipped off” some strange pilot in the air- port about the whereabouts of those karakuls? or was he just ashamed now of the way he had behaved all the earlier part of the summer? but david was no longer thinking of such things. he was listening for winifred’s answer. “i don’t know, david. none of us can find any work in town. we’ve tried.” “and your mother? ” the question was idle. it would be winifred who would have to decide how the family was to meet this last crisis. what little force had re- mained in her worn mother seemed drained from her completely by these last blows of fate. “she’s crushed, dave. you know how she felt about this place, how she wanted it for mut, wanted him to learn how to farm it—wanted it made sort of a refuge for him (and incidentally for us, too) to keep him from leading the unanchored kind of life father always liked. it’s the way she felt, i think, that kept father from letting us know how things really were.” david was too honest to attempt any defense of silas lamb’s weakness. he strove to find something to say that would call forth a flash of the quiet humor that always so delighted him in winifred. it was a human kind of humor, the kind which only sensitive and highly responsive people know how to use as a safety valve against the unwholesome indulgence of taking their troubles and problems too seriously. winifred’s gift for it had often been a balm to david. the fact that she so shadow over winding ranch fully understood the weight of his load made her sane, playful touches peculiarly healing. but tonight none would come to her aid; the future was too ominous. together they went back over the situation both already knew. mut had one more year of high school to finish the four-year vocational agriculture course there. to graduate by next june he would have to continue in that course. that meant that he must carry through to something like successful completion his various enterprises: his share of the turkey project; the care of the three milk cows he had raised and of their products; the two heifers he had coming on; the raising of at least part of their feed. the turkeys and the cows were fhe only things on the ranch that did not now belong to maggie herstan. mut no longer had the right even to pasture or grazing range for them. and with the turkeys still on range and unfattened, there was no chance at this time of year for a profitable sale. “if only we could stay here until we could sell the turkeys in the thanksgiving market,” said winifred, slowly lacing and unlacing the fingers of the hands lying in her lap, “we would have some money, probably, even after having to pay for feed; perhaps, even two or three hundred dollars. then with my share of it mother and i could rent a cheap room somewhere near a com- mercial school where i could take a six months’ business course and fit myself to support, her. that is, we could if mut were taken care of.” she hesitated before adding rather desperately, “if, for instance, he could get a chance to work for his board on a ranch somewhere a bitter salvation near by for his last high school year.” she stopped short, as if sensing david’s instant reaction to her words.- david was fending ofi her hint by plunging into speech. he was glad it was too dark for winifred to read his face. there certainly was no room for horace lamb on winding ranch. “thought you and mut were planning to save part of your turkey money toward a college fund?” “that dream’s dead,” she said with a quiet finality that touched david more deeply than outspoken regret could have done. nevertheless, he stated with grim tact- lessness, “i don’t believe in letting good dreams die.” “don’t you?” david could feel the desperate little rise of playfulness in her. “then, pray, hand over your prescription for keeping them alive without nourish- i-nent.” “have you asked maggie herstan to let you stay, at least for the present? she won’t get a buyer or a renter in a hurry for a place as run-down as this. and she’s plenty smart enough to know it’s a lot better off with you on it than empty.” “i’ve been trying to persuade mother to go see her about it. but mother does shrink from all business so, and of course she knows she’s no match for maggie. besides, mut insists it’s his place—that he’s the one to go. so far i’ve managed to make him wait. i can’t feel——” “i should say not,” david interrupted emphatically, recalling the comment he had heard in the drug store that day about mrs. herstan’s reasons for continuing the foreclosure proceedings. “the kind of farmer mut is—he’d muff everything.” david ignored the sisterly re- l l < shadow over winding ranch sentment he felt in winifred’s silent acquiescence to his statement. “that leaves only me.” she tried to laugh. “would you rate me as any better match for mrs. herstan?” “it should be a man,” david pondered aloud. “some good friend of the family who understands the whole situation and could handle it right. like alex arkins, for instance, or seth norton, the county agent. if only mut had attended to the crop business better this sum- mer so that they would be willing to go. can you think of anyone else, winifred, who would be willing?” after a moment she murmured with a touch of her amused sparkle, “no. not if you can’t.” he knew on the instant what she meant. the shock of the realization made him spring down from the stile. but he did not walk away at once and by the time he bade winifred good night he had promised, “as soon as i’ve got my own business with maggie settled up, i’ll see what i can do for you. i’ve an appointment to meet her at the bank tomorrow morning.” he walked homeward across the moonlit fields in troubled mood. as if he did not dread the coming inter- view enough on his own account! he would not worry about the lamb situation any more tonight. he must keep his mind clear, alert and rested so as to be fit to deal with maggie herstan. to his surprise david found, the next day, that so far as his own affairs were concerned, his apprehensions had been needless. matters were settled with an ease and speed beyond anything he had dared to hope for. not once in his dealing with mrs. herstan was there any a bitter salvation _ difliculty. she even seemed pleased with david’s prac- tical comprehension of all the details. gratitude to alex arkins and to his brother, george, for their careful coaching overflowed in him when, at last, he moved away from the little group around the desk of the bank president. he was now the sole and legal nominal owner of all winding ranch! still a burdened ranch, to be sure. but the burden was now an understood and thor- oughly businesslike one, to be worked off by degrees. when the last signed papers had been turned over to the bank for safe keeping, david moved forward to overtake maggie herstan, who, for no apparent reason, had been loitering alone at the front of the bank near the door. when he reached her side, david made his plea to her to let the lamb family remain temporarily on phantom ranch. scarcely were the carefully pre- pared words out of his mouth before they met with instant and adamant refusal. “absolutely no! i never permit a former owner to remain after foreclosure on any property i take over. it’s bad business. besides,” the heavy features of the lower part of her face remained like granite, but above them, the shrewd gray eyes, fixed on david with direct probing, lighted with amusement, “i’ve other plans for the place. iintend to rent it to you. all old woman’s draw should be farmed as a unit. come up to my house with me now and we’ll talk terms. that’s what i’ve been waiting for you for.” the words were a command. they left david in a daze from which it took concentrated effort to clear his brain before he and maggie herstan again settled shadow over winding ranch down to talk business. this time he was seated beside her, in front of the huge, orderly, old-fashioned desk in the high-ceilinged “parlor” of her home, with its mas- sive walnut sliding doors and heavy wainscoting. david admired the room. queer as it was, there was an impres- siveness about it beyond that of mere spaciousness. one felt in it something of the same power, there was in the woman who lived in it. when david walked out of it an hour later, he was not only nominal owner of winding ranch, but the lessee of phantom ranch as well—on surprisingly easy terms, too, but with the understanding that the rented ranch was to be run entirely under his management. no word had been said as to who was to occupy the house and use the other ranch buildings. the name of the lamb family had not once crossed maggie herstan’s lips. moreover, some instinctive sense of her desire that be should not mention it, either, had kept it from david’s. but why? in the face of his late request the omission was not easy to understand. did the feeling he so often had in maggie herstan’s presence, not only of being shrewdly appraised, but even of being put to some kind of test, have anything to do with it? and if so, what? was she waiting to see whether he would, untold, carry out her harshly expressed verdict about the lamb banishment? or was she waiting to see if he defied it? and if he did? the thought was the cloud over the sunshine of the whole new situation. was he never, he wondered a little desperately, to be free of the menacing consciousness of maggie herstan? nevertheless, from the first he knew perfectly well a bitter salvation ~r what he was going to do. not for an instant did he try to deny to himself that it was for winifred’s sake he had consented to assume this additional, and perhaps un- wise, responsibility. it struck home to him, too, that for the first time he had taken a decisive step entirely on his own initiative without telling neal of it beforehand or consulting~alex arkins. would they question his wisdom? he feared so. tomorrow, of course, he would explain everything to them just as he always had—ex- cept, of course, the part about winifred. they under- stood well enough without being told how he felt about winifred. as he drove home he was glad that he had not seen alex arkins after leaving mrs. herstan and that neal was out on the range with the karakuls. he would have all arrangements with the lamb family definitely settled before anyone else learned of his latest business venture. as the jalopy covered the miles, his mind was busy working out explicit details of what those arrangements and agreements must be. if he was to be responsible for phantom ranch, he could not risk having slipshod work done upon it. maggie’s real rental price, he understood, was that he begin to restore fertility to some of the ex- hausted fields and check erosion. that, mut would have to understand. so absorbed was david that he saw little of the clema- tis vines winding in and out over the willow and wild rose shrubbery along the banks of the creek. and only casually did he note here and there a neighboring choke- cherry tree, laden with its small, dark red, bitter fruit, i l jl i i l i _.....-... i ‘ ....._-......__ l i i shadow over winding ranch now overripe. chokecherries made delicious jam. his mother had never failed to gather and make use of the wild fruit. it was not fair, though, to expect of immature valley the thoughtful activity of their capable mother. as it was, valley was developing a real sense of respon- sibility, and david felt grateful. that evening in the sitting room of phantom ranch, in the presence of all three members of the lamb family, david conducted his third business interview of the day. although he always thought of himself as a farmer, his future farmer training had long since taught him that no one could ever hope to be a successful farmer who was not also a competent businessman. he began by surprising his listeners with the an- nouncement that he had become the lessee of phantom ranch. he hastened to soften the effect of this blow by adding at once that he would like to have the entire lamb family continue to live upon the place during the coming year. he was keenly aware of the emotional reaction surging through all three lambs at his news. in winifred and her mother it was a sense of over- whelming gratitude; in mut, although gratitude was not lacking, relief predominated. then as the first wave of relief began to moderate, there arose in its place the bitterness of hurt pride. meanwhile david added, with a firmness that was, at the same time, almost tactfully casual enough to have come from neal, “on certain conditions, of course.” “and those?” david, ignoring the edge in mut’s tone, proceeded to outline the conditions as he had worked them out, and a bitter salvation in the order he had plamled. mut would be allowed the use of certain fields for garden truck and the raising of feed for his own few head of stock and for a flock of five hundred turkeys, together with enough water to irrigate his fields and the use of necessary pasture and range. in return david would require of him the per- formance of certain duties of which he would speak later, as well as a definite number of hours of specified labor, under david’s orders, wherever david saw fit. then there was the matter of the unused buildings on phantom ranch. david proposed that those be put into shape for use the following summer as tourist cab- ins, the rent for them to be shared by david and mrs. lamb on a percentage basis. mrs. lamb would care for them and furnish table board, when wanted, for occu- pants. mut could act as guide for the tourists on short pack trips into mountain fishing and hunting country whenever the opportunity came conveniently. here david paused, meeting prompt and eager ac- quiescence from winifred and her mother; from mut, equally prompt but more grudging assent. to accept david so completely as his superior was plainly no easy matter for mut. but his sense of relief overcame his pride and, to his credit, he felt so grateful he was ashamed to show any evidence of the reluctance with which he accepted the situation. with a boyish swagger he placed his signature after his mother’s on the agree- ments david had prepared. david could see that tender- hearted winifred felt the pathos in the swagger. he smiled at her, sharing her feeling. he, too, was sorry for mut. for three years now he and mut had been fel- f , ' : i . ). , ‘| ‘ . l i shadow over winding ranch low future farmers, working on the only two ranches up old woman’s draw. now mut had not only been ousted from a proprietor’s share in one but had virtually become the hired man of his former rival. such a bitter pill would stick in any fellow’s throat. mut was really swallowing it remarkably well. sharing winifred’s sympathy for mut, however, did not deflect david from his set plan. he must proceed with what he had known from the first would be the really shattering bombshell of his news. first came a preliminary statement to which he had anticipated ready acquiescence. “the first job i’m going to ask you to do, mut, is to go up next week with neal to camp mule range. round up and bring down the famous—or in- famous—chisholm livestock which is grazing up that way—in other words, the chisholm burros.” to david’s surprise his words seemed to terrify mut. “what are you going to do with them?” the query was both suspicious and sharp. david cast aside any further attempt at facetiousness. “turn them over to you to take care of.” the quietly spoken words were dramatic in their effect. david was the first to break the eloquent silence which followed. “they’ve got to be cared for. you know that. brought down at once. the big snows will begin up that way any day now. and there’s guard, left with no one to see that he gets enough to eat since dad’s gone. and you’re the man for the burros, mut. you can train them in your spare time and then next summer use them as pack mules for your tourists.” such was the appease- a bitter salvation ment he had planned. he spoke persuasively but with no hint of compromise. but in his present mood mut would not admit to himself the reasonableness of david’s words. instead he nurtured a towering rage of resentment against david. plainly he recognized the masterliness of the stroke david had dealt him. yet there was nothing he could say. he was caught, legally bound to a situation from which the economic status of the family made with- drawal impossible. david sensed readily enough what was going through mut’s mind. the despised chisholm burros! the long- established neighborhood joke! turned over to the guiding care of the future farmer who had so lately been the state’s winning public speaker! the whole community would gossip over what had happened to him. he, horace lamb, who had not been allowed to have the karakuls, had got instead the unwanted, dis- carded, ridiculed chisholm burros! forced upon him by the very boy who had cut him out of the karakul chance! david chisholm had done this to him! and david was not even looking at him. he was looking, as usual, at winifred. what david saw was that although winifred real- ized to the full the sense of outrage mut was feeling, she did not really disapprove. misgivings fell from him. he would leave the family situation to winifred, trust her to manage mut, to cool him down. after all, mut had a sense of honor which could be appealed to, as both david and winifred knew. only winifred went to the door with david when shadow over winding ranch he left. distress and questioning had faded from her quiet hazel eyes, and warmth and gratitude had taken their place. she said little until david lingered for a moment at the opened front door. then she held him by her shyly hesitant question. “dave, just why did you do it? rent our ranch, i mean?” he flashed at her that sudden smile reflected in his dark blue eyes that now and then gave to his rather over-serious face a radiant, unexpected charm. “now, why do you suppose?” he teased. he waved his hand in farewell, and a moment later vanished down the house path in the shadowed moonlight. his mood was one of softly gentle content. for winifred knew, all right, why he had done it. she un- derstood, too, that for a while at least he could not put his reason into words. the realization braced him not only to meet whatever was to come but to a determina- tion for effort beyond any he had yet put forth. one of these days there would be again, up old woman’s draw, only one ranch. and both a lamb and a chis- holm, together, would have a thriving, happy home upon t. -'..":f — < l q e at \ \ . _ »¢ : \':-= --‘-'-"-"_; -~,>.-‘“v %..lll£\[g c. var .,_ ’ i_ .* _. \ . \ /yea: \ q , chapter xii a triumph in corn tie next day when david called on alex arkins to tell him about the new responsibility he had assumed, he found the teacher at work trimming a sturdy locust hedge which fenced his back yard. mr. arkins con- tinued to clip vigorously, almost impatiently, while he listened attentively to david’s story of his rental of phantom ranch. but as soon as the boy had finished, the man whirled about, tossed the long-handled pruning shears away from him upon the ground, all his interest now cen- tered upon david. “trust mrs. maggie herstan!” he exclaimed. “she knows what she’s doing. she wants that old ranch put back into productive shape. so what shadow over winding ranch does she do? she rents it to the most famous young farmer in the whole county. trust her to find out about what you’ve accomplished—even before you yourself know anything about it! seth norton planned to see you today—he wanted to be the one to tell you. but we can’t wait for seth now.” mr. arkins threw an arm around david’s shoulders and began to walk up and down with him along the line of the hedge. “dave,” he exulted, “do you know what you’ve done? you’ve raised the biggest and best crop of cor n ever raised in wagon county! you’ve beaten every other farmer in this whole big river valley! in doing what? in producing a real crop of the grain this state has needed most in order to revive to success by moder n methods the stock raising which was and still is this country’s basic industry.” _ david was a little stunned. he felt as if he were listening to a prepared lecture, although he knew the teacher’s words were none the less sincere for all that. he wondered if mr. arkins had been mentally prepar- ing a talk to be given in town later and if, perhaps un- consciously, he was practicing it now upon the young man who had inspired it. less rheiorically mr. arkins went on, “stock raising in the old open western style is doomed; we all know that. to continue to be a stock-raising country, we have to feed. that means we must raise our own grain. up to a certain point we’re doing it. but corn has been a tough proposition. now it won’t be any more. we can raise our own corn, sure enough. not scanty, immature ears in small quantities, good for little but silage. but real a triumph in corn corn, in a full-sized crop. and you, dave, beyond all others, are the person who has proved we can do it! you are this year’s county champion corn producer! there won’t be a farmer organization or meeting in this region of the state, no matter how jealous some of its members may be of what you’ve done, that won’t want a seed corn selection demonstration from you and every detail of the story about how you have succeeded in doing it. no words can tell you how proud i am of ou!” y still david did not speak. he had been proud of his corn, knew that it was good, but this was success be- yond his’ dreams. he managed heartfelt words at last. “i guess you’ve a right to be proud. i’d never have done it, if it hadn’t been for what you’ve taught me.” david had never seen alex arkins so exuberant. as for his own spirit, it was soaring now above all thought of worry. such news could not wait to be told. he drove homeward at unwonted speed, regardless of jolts, and drove the jalopy only a short distance up into the draw’s roadway. he knew just where to find the girls. only that morning they had established themselves in a perma- nent new turkey camp, located on a well-drained hill near the most remote boundary line between the two draw ranches. the jalopy was boiling hard by the time _he reached the hill’s summit. he had no choice but to pause and let his engine cool. then, after a few minutes, he started the jalopy over the slope and across an ex- panse of the feeding ground, setting up a prolonged honking as an expression of his mood. response came wi éi ls h | ii ! l z shadow over winding ranch even more quickly from the turkeys than from the girls. from every direction the birds ran toward the jalopy in their swaying fashion. before winifred and valley could reach the car, it was surrounded by more than a thousand turkeys, their little round black eyes shining out from the bright blue-and-rose coloring of their small heads. david greeted the familiar scene with a delighted grin. as soon as he ceased honking, birds jumped to the rumiing boards, while here and there a bolder turkey arose in clumsy flight to alight on the hood. renewed honking sent them off again. meanwhile the girls had “shooed” their way toward david. modestly he told them his news. winifred received it with quietly shining satisfaction, valley with outspoken rejoicing. “no doubt about your receiving the american farmer degree at kansas city this fall, dave,” she exulted. “too late for that,” he responded decisively, his ex- pression sobering. valley, of course, knew nothing of the disastrous scoring against his record. if only those karakuls hadn’t been lost! the reference to the ameri- can farmer degree dampened david’s mood more than he cared to let the girls see. he parted from them sooner than he otherwise would have done, leaving the jalopy behind him. to drive it up into the more rugged foot- hills where neal was with the karakuls was out of the question. instead he rode bareback on bones, the old white horse hobbled near the camp. there was no flaw in neal’s reception of the cham- pionship news. he declared at once that he was not a triumph in corn surprised, that he had expected it from the beginning. the leasing of phantom ranch was another matter. on the whole, he approved of that, too. anyway, there never should have been more than one ranch up old woman’s draw. the brothers seated themselves on a high, hummocky knoll for a few minutes while david outlined his plans. the one about the winter care of the burros brought forth from neal chuckle after chuckle of admiration. seizing david around the waist, he rocked his brother’s sturdy body back and forth upon the knoll. “dave, you sly heady old fox, you. i’ll bet maggie herstan appre- ciates that stroke of genius. you’ve gotten even with her and mut for building that fence. don’t believe she’ll resent it, either. it’s too much a play with fate after her own heart. she’ll probably even forgive you for letting the lambs stay on at phantom ranch.” neal’s mirth sobered into his more usual manner of casual amusement as he added with bright-eyed curiosity, “how’d mut take it?” “blazed all over. even tried to squirm out of going up to camp mule with you next week after the burros. not that he actually said much. he was so hot he couldn’t. couldn’t, anyway, before his mother and winifred. i’m sure he thinks i’ve dealt him a dirty blow, well below the belt, getting him cornered before them like that.” “think he’ll really fulfill his part of the bargain?” neal was all speculative curiosity. david’s expression grew stern. “mut knows that the lamb family stays on the place only so long as he does. he’s an honest kid, too, you know, in his way.” shadow over winding ranch neal arose from the knoll to send a dog in pursuit of a wandering ewe. his merriment had subsided. “i’m not at all sure i envy you your job, dave,” he mused. “and i won’t be on hand this winter to help you with it, either. or,” he began to chuckle again, “to enjoy it. i’ll have to take my full share of the fun going up and com- ing down from camp mule next week.” “razzing mut, i suppose. as if this sympathetic place we live in wouldn’t do plenty of that without your help.” but the remark was only halfhearted. secretly david was regretting he would not be at hand to appre- ciate to the full the artistry of neal’s sly thrusts at mut, even to add an occasional penetrating touch of his own. / v if flit . /i,.\lr ¢‘./_a\% l iih$\ * chapter xiii the meaning of a find viljmnxs to mut, whose sense of injury made him seek commiseration wherever he could find it, the news of david’s decision about the burros soon became widely known. the result was not all mut had hoped for. yet, although his mood did not soften, he no longer avoided the chisholms and he did the work david as- signed him with surprising application. “resentment’s a good spur,” david thought with a grin, not realizing how much winifred had had to do with the spurring. it had happened one day when mut, carrying a sack of feed up to the turkey camp after a trip to town, sought a moment alone with his sister to report an insult he had received in town. “right to my - shadow over winding ranch face those blasted chisholm burros were called ‘the lamb karakuls.’ i’ll be hanged if i go up to camp mule after those danged, good-for-nothing little mules on orders from dave chisholm.” mut expected sympathy from his sister. already from certain sources in town he had had more of it than was good for him. but winifred’s response jolted him. “that’s nonsense, horace. you’ve got to go. all of us have got to everything we can these days to hold up our end. otherwise—and you might as well face it—we’d be accepting charity.” mut had stared at her with snapping eyes. “charity! from the chisholms! with old man chisholm a bigger down-and-out than our dad ever was! dad always earned our living, at least, and——” “from now on,” winifred had interrupted, “we’ve got to do it for ourselves—the way dave chisholm has been doing when we didn’t—and be mighty thankful for the chance he’s given us to do it.” mut had glared at her without answering. the way some statements were forcing him to silence these days was making cruel demands upon his self-control. david was the worst offender. only once had mut attempted a spoken protest. “why can’t those burros be left on camp mule this winter? they’re of no value to any- body, anyway.” the answer he received from david was so stinging in its accusations of cruelty and irre- sponsibility that his self-control broke down. “you’ll get your come-uppance yet, dave chisholm! i’ll help see to that! already a lot of folks around town are wondering if you’re not altogether too clever to be the meaning of a find a comfortable neighbor. in the end it ll prove dangerous for you. you can bet your best boots on that! and an- other thing. they’re saying you’re so swell-headed about being county corn producing champion, it’ll let you do anything. already there are folks in this valley so jealous-—” but david was no longer listening. he had walked away from mut with a manner of unconcerned con- tempt. the next day mut left for camp mule with neal. - not until after he had watched the boys ride away down the draw did realization strike home to david that part of mut’s spirit of rebellion toward the trip had been caused by fear. “but what on earth of?” david asked himself in amazement. several days later, when neal got home, david knew. david’s responsibilities were unusually heavy during those days. “this is the way it will be all the time after neal leaves,” he often thought. he could not have man- aged had it not been for old man perkins and his grand- son, guy, who lived in an abandoned cabin near a small, unworked mine some distance beyond old woman’s draw. the elder perkins had been a sheep herder in younger years, and a mighty good one. now his eyesight was growing dim. guy was too careless on a monoto- nous job to be given much responsibility. together, though, they made a helpful team in times of pressing need. during the few days neal was away, the kara- kuls, brought down to range near enough for david to manage a daily visit to them, were looked after by the two perkinses. david himself was so busy at home that a, i t" ..-l‘ —---* ! i i .:—‘_— .>.- f-f- : ’:-_ la ii shadow over winding ranch it was four days before he could find time for a trip to phantom ranch to decide on just which range to place the returning burros for winter forage. as he rode home again on his rough-gaited bay horse, cockleburr, his ear detected the sound of a strange truck coming up the draw road from below. presently a small truck chugged into view around a curve and came to a stop before winding ranch’s front gate. david rode forward to meet it, and swung off his horse. a hail from the driver’s seat, in neal’s voice, ringing with triumph, had reached him. “come here pronto, dave, and see what i’ve got.” it was not guard, seated beside him, upright on his haunches, to which neal re- ferred. with a leap the dog was on the ground nuzzling close to david in delighted greeting. but david was peering at something through the side slats of the truck. the next instant he looked up sharply at his brother. “whose are they? and where did you get them? ” but he had guessed the answer. his delight was promptly modified by the thought, “too late.” the records of the year’s applicants for the american farmer degree were by this time irrevocably filed in the executive offices of the future farmers of america at washington, d.c. “better so,” he hastened to try to assure himself. such thoughts were only a flash of david’s consciousness. outwardly he was listening to neal. “ours, of course. no other karakuls anywhere in this section of the state. where did i get them? up in a little tucked-away valley near camp mule. with grand -. . ..-—-._—_._. .¢~ the meaning of a find old guard here taking care of them for us. from the looks of him, he had no easy time of it, either.” neal was excited. “open the gate, dave, will you? and shut it after us. turn cockle loose and jump on. we’ll haul the unloading chute out of the bar n and look after these ladies. they don’t look exactly like the rest of the flock, do they? still, they’re only dirty and ragged; they’re really all right, i think. look healthy, anyway. i didn’t dare take the whole trip home with them on a drive, though; they’re too near lambing time. so i rented this truck at the first place i could.” while the boys examined and worked with the kara- kuls, neal imparted his story in interrupted snatches. “didn’t have a bit of trouble rounding up the burros. the horses we rode up to camp mule took right to the job. only three burros were missing—surprisingly few, considering, if you ask me.” david nodded. he knew what neal meant. these last weeks the camp mule stock had not had the protec- tion of dad’s nearness, not even the man scent to hold ofl the approach of the natural dwellers of the wilds. bears, both’ black and cinnamon, frequented the region, and, far more to be feared, the big mountain cat known in the western country as the mountain lion. “mut,” neal laughed, “was disappointed the burro loss wasn’t bigger. muttered that it would suit him fine if they were all lost. i didn’t let on i heard him. what did worry me was that there hadn’t been a sign of guard anywhere around those burros. i whistled and called and couldn’t get any comeback but echoes. mut didn’t help any. acted as if he didn’t care whether the dog was l i l i -‘ ._ .‘ ‘ i shadow over winding ranch alive or not. that made me good and mad. i told him straight from the shoulder that we were going to find guard before we left for home no matter how long it took us. you see, he was in an awful sweat to get going. “by that time we had the burros collected in the val- ley just below the camp mule mine. so i told mut he could stay right there and keep those burros together while i hunted for guard, that before we left we had to get dad’s duds into packs for flap and apple to carry. so far mut hadn’t lifted a finger to help with anything like that. “up until then i hadn’t paid much attention to his sulkiness. i’d tried to razz him out of it. when that didn’t work, i razzed harder than ever; like a fool, i sup- pose, since it only made him worse. of course, what i thought was the matter with him was that he was find- ing taking orders from a chisholm hard to swallow. he told me more than once he was a better mountain man than you or i. at last i asked him why he didn’t prove it by finding what we were looking for. of course, i meant guard, but the way that speech made him look struck me all of a sudden as mighty funny. i tumbled then to the real answer to the riddle; he was afraid of something.” david nodded. “that’s what struck me the day you left home.” neal went on: “but even later, when i got back to where mut was, i wasn’t sure of what. i was too excited. i had found not only guard, but the lost karakuls. mut was still there with the burros all ready to start out. and he had flapjack and dried apple ready, too. he had the meaning of a find @ done a good job with their packs and i was mighty grateful to him for having got dad’s things out of the cabin. i—i’d—well, i’d been dreading to do it, myself- put it off till the last, because—you know, dave—with dad gone now—never going to need any of those things aga n——” with a determined change of tone, neal went on, “besides, i was pretty worked up about finding guard and those seven karakuls—all that were left of our van- ished ten, i’m sure. and finding them up there was a mystery on our hands that needed to be solved.” “vvhere were they?” david, listening intently, inter- rupted. “in the nicest, greenest little stretch of park you can imagine, with a little stream of fresh water in it. there were hilly walls that shut it in. that’s probably why guard hadn’t heard me earlier, or i him. well, sir, i asked mut what he thought of my find. how he thought those karakuls could ever have got up there at all and why? of course, dad must have known they were there but he never used to write to us; everybody knew that. and, of course, nobody ever went up there for months at a time. i asked mut if he’d ever run up against anything so puzzling before in all his life. “the way he took that question made me tumble. he was excited, all right, but i didn’t like it, somehow. and i didn’t like the way he said, ‘is it really so puzzling?’ the way he spoke that question made me too mad for a moment to let off any gab. “then what do you think he said? ‘they weren’t your karakuls; you only had charge of them. yet ten of . - ...a~..- . r > i shadow over vvinding ranch them’got up here somehow. smuggled up, i’d say. didn’t you tell more than one person that when the karakuls outgrew the home range, you had all this to fall back upon for the summers? dave knew that, didn’t he? natural enough he should want to try this range out. unknown to mr. deane, of course, who wouldn’t have stood for it. right after the karakuls first disap- peared, didn’t you and dave go away to give a demon- stration on seed corn selection—or so you said? and didn’t you stay away a little longer than you had to? if you’re asking me, i’d say you took a long, roundabout route—not altogether alone.’ “that’s as far as he got. by that time i was so blazing mad i had all i could do to keep from pitching into him. i bawled him out instead. i sure managed a thorough job of that. i told him if ever he said anything like that about you again, i’d see he paid for it and paid big. oh, i scared him plenty, but he just shrugged his shoulders as much as to say, ‘if i don’t say it, somebody else will. just you wait and see.’ then he muttered something about not having accused you of anything dishonest. “ .‘\maybe not what you call dishonest,’ i told him. ‘but so dang tricky that dave or any other square-shoot- ing fellow would call it dishonest.’ “all of a sudden i saw through him. ‘so that’s the dodge you’ve worked up to try to save your own skin.’ then i let out at him again. ‘you sneaked those ten karakuls off up here yourself. that’s why the dogs didn’t raise an alarm. they knew you. you drove those sheep up here to dad. you told him we sent you with them. that’s how you got your hurt feelings soothed _" / - . .- shadow over winding ranch “what did he do?” “tried to laugh it off. but he was scared stiff by the idea of my beating him home. probably thinks i got the truck to haul the sheep just to get my story told down here first. he’s not altogether wrong, either.” “have you told it?” david’s query was both thought- ful and sharp. “not yet. had to report to you first.” david spent a long minute pondering the matter. “then don’t,” he stated at last. neal was on his knees beside a ewe, picking burrs out of her tangled wool. fingers pausing, he glanced at his brother. “why not?” just a shade of scorn crept into his voice as he added, “coals of fire?” “coals of fire, baloney!” david scoffed. “unless,” he hesitated, “another name for them happens to be—mag- gie herstan. i’ve got to satisfy her with the go i make of her ranch next year, haven’t i? and with the lambs left on it, where she didn’t want them? that means i’ve got to work with mut. manage him somehow. making him feel more resentful toward us won’t help things. besides,” david finished cleaning out a feed trough be- fore he added, “there’s winifred.” understanding lighted neal’s face, but no conviction of david’s wisdom. “well, you’ve a right to your say- so about it,” he conceded at last. “especially since i’ll be gone from the scene in another week.” inwardly he decided that one person, at least, should learn without delay the full story he had just told to david. that per- son was alex arkins. " only on his last night at home did neal bring up the the meaning of a find h subject again. dave, do you realize that this whole town is buzzing about those karakuls we found? and a lot of the buzzing is a nasty kind. i don’t like it. i wouldn’t have believed that a cowardly kid like mut, desperate to save his own hide, could have stirred it up to the extent he evidently has. but i’ve kept my prom- ise; i haven’t squealed on him. it’s a mistake, though. i’m surer than ever of that. it’s a bad secret to keep. and it isn’t like you to have secrets at all.” “oh, yes, it is,” david thought with troubled inner amusement. six weeks later his first secret proved so successful that it became a matter of genuine gratification. at the future farmer convention in kansas city, neal not only won the american farmer degree but was elected first vice-president of the future farmers of america. the letter david received after neal, too late to rectify matters, had learned of the lack of all karakul loss on his own record, went a long way toward full compensa- tion to the older brother for his sacrifice. although david did not think of it as sacrifice at all, but merely justice. however, he had to convince neal of this with all the arguments he had formerly used with alex arkins, before the printed achievement records of the year’s american farmers had traveled forth on their wide distribution throughout the united states. but david’s second secret was another matter. he was to have more than one decided reversal of feeling about the wisdom of that before the winter was over. .._ _ _._ | i z '_ . |_o j i, z " _ ‘ ~ ‘ ; \ a, "fl fly / xwly ( ' \ i i- w" " -\ /i.. _/ ,, ’ fly, ll, / ti ,/m y / '., /,, if _,o'\%,,,, q» /' ~<\i*\ i/w , m chapter xiv a puzzle to be solved ~rly in september neal left for the state college at fort collins. valley and mut went back to high school. winifred still herded turkeys, but nearer home now, feeding the birds more grain and mash as the fattening season approached. david used all old man perkins’ time now and most of young guy’s. he paid them partly in supplies, partly in cash eked from the monthly cream check. milk he could no longer market. the need for skimmed milk for turkeys and young stock was too pressing. other things were happening, too. already his seed corn, not yet dried, was in demand. already, too, adult farmer organizations and the state’s agricultural exten- sion service were making arrangements for him to speak a puzzle to be solved at local and county meetings during the more leisurely winter season. because of what one of its members had done, the fame and credit of the future farmer organization was establishing itself throughout the region as never before. high schools in neighboring rural towns, that hereto- fore had not offered extensive courses in agriculture, were saying, “if that’s what it’s teaching farm boys to do, we- want a full four-year vocational agriculture course and a future farmer of america chapter estab- lished in our school.” thus david, who had never had time to think about the spotlight, was finding it focused upon him in a way that was far from unpleasant. he was still much too busy, though, to give it real heed. he was too busy, also, to notice when the spotlight brilliance began more and more to be overcast with clouds of jealousy brought on by spiteful, envious neighborhood gossip. his real worry was centered on mr. deane’s prospective visit. the torn and unkempt coats of the rescued karakuls were conspicuous among those of the carefully watched and cared-for animals of the home range. three of the valuable lambs were irretrievably gone. would the mys- tery of the karakuls’ disappearance, reawakened and heightened by their recovery, make mr. deane unwill- ing to send the four expected rams for the fall breeding? registered, purebred rams were valuable creatures, some of them worth considerably more than five hundred dollars. there must be no chance of loss in their care. should mr. deane refuse to send them, it would mean the end of the entire chisholm karakul experiment. shadow over winding ranch before mr. deane arrived, fall lambing was over. old man perkins proved invaluably helpful with the care of the lambing ewes and of the jet-black, tightly-curled, newborn lambs. he was gentle and efficient, too, at the docking and ear-tagging of the pretty little creatures, and equally responsible at mixing carefully, according to david’s instructions, the bran, ground oats, and corn meal in equal parts, with which the lambs must be fed from their tenth day of life to weaning time. mr. deane’s visit, when it came, proved surprisingly short. he was pleased with much he found but he was not at all pleased with the story of the lost karakuls’ mysterious recovery. he was far more concerned about their original disappearance now than he had been in the spring, when the theft had been believed to be the result of a scouting airplane’s activity. “that kind of performance we simply cannot have on our ranches,” he stated curtly. “i repeat—we’ve got to get to the bottom of this.” his eye rested upon david searchingly. “as i told you some time ago, i expect from you, first, a thorough investigation, with results; then, prosecution. so far you seem to have made sur- prisingly little effort in the matter. i still expect that effort. you tmderstand that?” could it be that even mr. deane had been listening to the town gossip stirred up by mut and really taken it seriously? if so, the talk that first neal and then valley had indignantly reported from time to time must be more dangerous than david had believed possible. asking no questions, david met the visitor’s probing with straightforward dignity. the new proprietor of a puzzle to be solved winding ranch had matured this summer. he was a responsible man, facing another responsible man. “you shall have it,” he aflirmed. for the demand was just. when the time for prosecution came, it would have to be met in spite of maggie herstan’s ranch, and—wini- fred. mr. deane left without promising to send the needed rams. david would have been less worried had he known that in driving through wagon rest, mr. deane had stopped for a long talk with alex arkins. a week later the rams arrived at winding ranch. in some way, david suspected, he owed their coming, in part at least, to mr. arkins’ backing. it was no light responsibility the teacher had assumed for him. david knew, too, that there was not another member of the wagon rest future farmer chapter—a lot of them decidedly good fellows—for whom the teacher would have done it. “i’ve got to prove myself worthy of it,” the boy told himself sternly. such worthiness, he knew, must include complete fulfillment of his promise to mr. deane. had he been dishonest in not telling mr. deane at once that he and neal believed mut to be guilty of the theft? no, he decided, because he had no tangible proof. even had the situation between winding and phantom ranches been different, he could not stoop to accusation without proof. . but no longer had he the least intention of lettingmut go free. what he must do was to secure the needed proof. how? such was the problem that had to be solved. he hated spying; besides, in this case it was too shadow over winding ranch late for it. diplomacy was the only means left. some- how mut must be made to confess. david saw only two methods for accomplishing this: by cornering mut to where he had to own up or by winning him to the point where he was willing to do so. the first method neal had already used without suc- cess. that left only the second. everything considered, winning him, of course, would be far the better strategy. except that at present david’s feelings were not at all inclined toward it. mut’s present mood, too, was any- thing but favorable. besides, as things were, winning mut would certainly take time. would mr. deane be willing to wait for it? perhaps after all neal had been right and he, david, had made a mistake in enjoining secrecy about neal’s camp mule experiences with mut. it was hard to be sure, though. there were other as- pects to consider. mut was working better than david had ever known him to work, doing his required hours of labor faithfully and without spoken complaint. fall plowing, helping with the planting of the dryland winter wheat—he was doing whatever he was told in a way very gratifying to his mother and sister. more than that, he was taking hold with those good-for-nothing burros—the ignominy of whose care he owed to david —in the most sporting kind of way, actually putting in work after hours training them to the pack. even alex arkins was encouraged about him as a pupil. and throughout the neighborhood sympathy was flowing mut’s way in a steadily increasing volume. the queer thing about the situation was that always the sympathy a puzzle to be solved for mut was closely accompanied with insinuating gossip against david. “that’s mut’s doing, of course—his way of getting even, though i don’t see where he gets time for it,” valley would report with vivacious indignation. “he’s dead set on paying you for handing him those burros. at the same time he’s lapping. up all the public praise he can get for himself. he’s stirring up every old jealous cat there is here to lick up the nasty hints he drops, as if they were cream, and then letting the spiteful talk grow fat on it.” “very sure it’s mut, aren’t you?” david’s assumption of indiflerence aroused valley’s pique. all the more because she was clever enough to realize there was a subtlety in the spread of gossip that was beyond mut. david could have told valley of another inconsist- ency that puzzled him. as the weeks passed he thought he occasionally sensed behind mut’s resentfulness a feeling of dumb gratitude for the silence david was maintaining—even to valley—about neal’s conviction regarding the karakuls. for some of the unpleasant gossip, david knew he had himself to thank. on the day after mr. deane’s visit, the indignation against mut that had burned through him had precipitated david into a false move. encountering horace on a foothill trail, he had stopped the boy with a peremptory, “look here, mut.” mut obeyed, rebellion in his pose. without preliminaries and in a tone that in itself was accusation, david proceeded to report his renewed a puzzle to be solved had a good plan all worked out as to how to do it. and david had not. as time passed, he had moments of hope- lessness of ever being able to figure one out. other incidents of the fall helped feed to lusty growth the whole gossipy situation. the first had to do with the fall turkey market. the second was valley’s treatment of mut, brought to a climax by neal’s thanksgiving visit home in company with a new-made friend. it was a long open fall with weather that kept the turkeys eager to run and forage, slow to settle down and fatten up. yet because the lambs had no feed and no money with which to buy any, they had to sell their entire flock of underweight birds in the early thanks- giving market. david and valley, on the other hand, could keep the greater number of their birds so as to have them well fattened with whitened, milk-fed flesh for people’s christmas dinner tables. except for a few birds, bruised in the killing, all the picked turkeys the chisholms did market at thanksgiving time were classed in the local turkey pool as number ones. the entire lamb flock, on the contrary, had scarcely a number one among it, and far more thirds than seconds. such details are always matters of prompt knowledge and widespread interest in any rural community. “queer, isn’t it,” comment ran throughout happy wagon valley with varying degrees of unpleasant in- sinuation in the undercurrent, “that two flocks, after running practically the same range all summer, should test out in two such difierent classes?” or again, “i like ' shadow over winding ranch to see a boy hard-working and ambitious like that dave chisholm. but there’s such a thing as being too smart. jim chisholm was no such worker as young dave, but there wasn’t anything grasping about him, never any squeezing out the other fellow’s chance.” the sharp answers valley chisholm gave to such ac- cusations did not help to create better feeling in lamb sympathizers. “sorry for mut?” she would retort. “not much. the whole thing’s his own fault. i’m even mad at him for winifred’s sake, after all the good herding she did for him. their birds were classed as thirds because their breastbones were so crooked. well, they were three days old and unfed when mut got them. if he hadn’t been so careless, putting off ordering his poults from day to day last spring, instead of getting his order in early the way dave did, he, too, would have got just- hatched birds from the near-by hatcheries, instead of those that had to come clear from california.” only here and there did some judicial observer notice that although winifred lamb never openly criticized her brother, she never denied valley’s explanation. the two girls were as warm friends as ever. but valley and mut certainly were not. no longer, as in past years, did they take their daily ride together down the draw to meet the school bus, there to turn their riderless horses back toward home. yet on thanksgiving day the entire lamb family was at the chisholm dinner table, sharing a tender tur- key and all the other good things mrs. lamb had helped valley to prepare. it was a gala occasion. neal was home. and with him was a guest, a fellow future a puzzle to be solved farmer of america national oflicer, also newly elected. he was a brown-haired, gray-eyed farm boy from iowa, named ned newcomb. he had a humorous mouth and a good deal of reserve in the poise of his it .n €l', but also an unself-conscious manliness that was unmistakable. the pride with which neal introduced to him his county corn champion brother and his viva- cious little sister was undisguised. david liked him at once. here was a fellow after his own kind, he felt with warmth. as for valley, the attraction between the two was mstantaneous. when neal first brought his guest into the dining- room to meet valley, she was wearing the new red dress mrs. lamb had helped her to make. nothing could have been more becoming to her. and during the three days of ned newcomb’s visit, she attended to the housework with a merry-hearted gaiety that was very infectious. when ned left, david knew that his promise to visit them again would be fulfilled as soon as possible. although the knowledge pleased him, it also made him just a little heavy-hearted. they all had an amazingly good time during those three days. the only note of discord was mut’s presence at the thanksgiving table. neal and ned were still aglow from the recent future farmer convention, full of eager talk about it and of enthusiastic plans for their organization’s national development. both were soon to undertake long trips across the country for the purpose. much of neal’s old protective casualness had dropped from him. often he showed an enthusiasm not unlike valley’s. shadow over winding ranch mut escaped from the group as soon as they left the table, to nobody’s regret or particular notice except his mother’s. but many people noted the way he was left out of the good times of the next three days. david, neal and valley were taking a pride in showing their iowa guest all they could of their wilder, more rugged western country. on the long picnic and horseback trips they took, winifred was always a member of the group. but never mut. always he was left behind with the two perkinses to attend to home chores. nor did he choose to inform anyone that he stayed home because of his own stubborn refusal to go. he agreed, though, with more than one sympathizer, that he was being treated in a thoroughly mean way. what he did not reveal was that it was valley’s meanness that upset him most. he had long admired valley chisholm, as everybody knew. that wasn’t surprising. lots of the local boys admired valley. everybody knew, too, she had been anything but pleasant to him all fall, even stay- ing home from school parties rather than go with him. self-pity made him prefer to think it was because his family had lost phantom ranch, even though he knew she told her friends she was through going anywhere with a boy who could say such mean, insinuating things about her brother as he seemed to have done lately. such treatment, mut brooded, had been bad enough. but it was nothing compared to the way she was acting with that ned newcomb on the scene. resentment at least showed that she knew he was there. but now she was so indifferent she seemed unaware that he was anywhere around. and it was all dave chisholm’s fault for getting shadow over winding ranch but after thanksgiving the pressure of work lightened greatly. the farmers’ rest time had come. for david it was, too, the time for fulfilling many of his agreements to talk at farmers’ extension meetings. alex arkins, seth norton, the local county agent, the agents of other outlying counties or other members of the state agricultural extension service often accom- panied him to these meetings, to help tell the story of his corn breeding and seed production. praise and ap- preciation poured in plentifully upon him at such times. it was gratifying after all his long hard work to win recognition of the right sort for what he had accom- plished. yet he was wise enough to grin more than once, saying to alex arkins, “a few knocks around home are good for a fellow, after all. they help keep him from getting his head so swelled his common sense evapo- rates.” not always were his audiences made up entirely of strangers. two or three times, to his amazement, he spotted among his hearers the shrewd, tanned face and eccentric garb of wagon rest’s maggie herstan. she never came near him at such meetings, nor spoke to him afterward. not once all that fall had she come to wind- ing ranch; nor had she, so far as he knew, spoken to anybody about his corn achievement. yet when he re- ported her presence later to valley, he scoffed at her notion that maggie might be one of the persons who were jealous of it. “not she. she wants winding ranch paid for, doesn’t she?” valley had retorted with a laugh, “does anybody ever know what she really wants? or what she’s really v w: —w - . ’ _. / w-t--- -m - “-. . ~- — ~ “ . . —“ w—~———-—¥“ a puzzle to be solved i doing?” skeptically she added, black eyes dancing with amusement at the absurdity of her own statement, “she might even be helping to work up all this late sympathy for poor unfortunate abused mut.” spoken praise was not lacking for david in his home valley. but in it there was often a poisonous undercur- rent whose source was jealousy. it was naturally bitter for once-prosperous farmers, now barely able to make a living in these bad times, to be beaten not only by a boy but by one who came from a family long looked upon with contempt from the viewpoint of good farming. such jealousy served to fertilize altogether too well a field already planted with false rumors and implications. of this growing undercurrent david became aware only gradually. valley felt sure its source was the obedi- ently working but still inwardly unfriendly mut. it no longer aroused david’s anger as it once had. he was weary of working daily with a boy whose spirit was anything but cooperative. there was too little joy in the accomplishment of their common toil. could he but find a way, at last, to win mut to confidential friendliness, it would wipe away more than one of his worries. for not only would it redeem his long unfulfilled promise to mr. deane; it would also in all probability put a stop to all the vindictive stirring up of local spiteful talk. before the new year was far advanced, david found the way. he owed it far more to the forces of nature than to his own ingenuity. j /% § “ ’ %/at :~a__ ~ _ _ chapter xv burros to the rescue tie cloudless open fall weather lasted well into de- cember. then one evening, valley, curled up, book in hand, in a big armchair in the living room, lifted her dark head in a listening pose. “you needn’t worry any more about next summer’s water supply, dave. you’re going to get your snow. listen to those hoot owls. did you ever hear them any nearer the house?” valley’s prophecy came true. the snows, once begun, kept up all through the remaining winter with a steadi- ness not usual in sunny colorado. happy wagon val- ley people rejoiced. the occasional blocking of roads until snowplows could do their work was a matter of indifference. such snow was “white gold” to the irriga- burros to the rescue tion farmer; upon its plenitude his prosperity depended. in the higher reaches of the mountain ranges beyond and above the wagon rest country, the situation was more difficult. there the roads and passes became hope- lessly blocked and stayed so. the snow reached a depth on mountain meadows and hillsides that made it impos- sible for the most dexterous animal hoofs to penetrate to the dried, nourishing forage grasses underneath. so deeply into burrows did the weather send the small wild life that even the flesh-eating animals grew gaunt, prowling down nearer the settled valleys than they had done for years. more than once david meted out to these wild crea- tures feedings of hay that he could ill spare. feed prices were soaring, but he had no grain to sell. he began to worry lest before the winter was over he might have to buy. worry about feed was still with david one february night as he lay snugly but only half asleep in his bed, listening. the sweet clean cold air blew in through his open window. outside the night was dark, yet full of that serenity of country quiet, all the more impressive because of the sounds which penetrated it. tonight the chief of these was the hoot of owls. for weeks now in the trees above the draw and even in those around the house, they had been keeping up their clamor, in long- drawn-out hoots that predicted big storms were coming, even if still a long way off. night after night david, too healthy to be kept awake, had fallen asleep to the tune of the noisy little birds’ tooting and hooting. but tonight the sounds were different, not so long as usual, but short shadow over winding ranch sharp toots, repeated and repeated. he knew what they meant. but when they ceased at midnight, he was too soundly asleep to know it. when he did awake, he knew by instinct that it was dawn even though the world without was deep dark gray. out in the barnyard for early chores, he found himself completely shut into his own small world. all trace of surrounding hills was blocked out in a thick enveloping cloud mass, whose meaning he understood even before the snowflakes began to fall in heavy sheets all about him. there was no help for it. today all the animals, burros included, would have to be gathered into some sort of real shelter and fed there generously as long as this weather lasted. as he struggled back toward the house with the filled milk pails, snowflakes hissing into the foam of the warm milk, his mind was again calculating the amount of his stores. if he knew about how long this storm was going to last, he could figure more accurately. he’d better go in the house and get the early morning news and weather report. the radio was certainly a real asset to the isolated farmer. he clumped into the living room in his heavy, snow- burdened boots and turned on the radio dial at a high pitch that the sound might penetrate to valley’s sleep- ing ears. on such a day it was high time she was up and stirring! yet when her little figure, wrapped in a thick red bathrobe, her feet in soft bedroom slippers, padded into the room behind him, he was unaware of it. he was too absorbed in listening to the rapid tones of the announcer. the first news he heard was reassuring. heavy as the burros to the rescue present storm was in the local areas, it was predicted it would not last. clear skies were promised by night, with bitter cold, the thermometer dropping well below the zero mark, as it inevitably did after a big snow. except for the cold, weather predictions for other sections of the state were different, however; above all, for those high mining sections located well over into the great mountain ranges to the northwest. as everyone knew, snow had been falling heavily there for days and days. highways were blocked beyond all power of tractor-driven snowplows to clear them; trains were hopelessly stalled on mountain passes; telegraph lines were down; mining towns were at present cut off from the world except where here and there valiant linemen had succeeded in keeping a single telephone line open. at the announcer’s mention of these towns, an idea flashed through david’s mind. the newscaster signed olf as a long-drawn sigh from valley revealed her presence. david swung about to face her. “say, val, get me a cup of coffee and a snack to eat as soon as you can, will you? the water’s boiling in the kettle. i put the oat- meal you cooked last night on to heat.” she obeyed, battling down curious queries as a mo- ment later she heard her brother ringing up the local central on their rural telephone line and requesting, “long distance, please. as quick as you can get it.” david was nearly through his hasty meal by the time the call had been put through and he was summoned to the phone. valley, full of chatter about the storm, had been vexed by his unresponsiveness. but her annoyance vanished as she listened to his side of the long-distance shadow over winding ranch conversation. she was hovering behind him again, de- light tingling through her long before the conversation was over. “oh, dave, are you really——” he waved her to silence and remained at the phone. he was calling a local number now, that of the freight ofl'ice of the wagon rest railroad station. again valley listened expectantly in the background, dark eyes grow- ing bigger and brighter with excitement. “oh, dave, are you really——?” she repeated as soon as a click told her the receiver was once again back on the hook. “sure am,” he interrupted with a grin. even now he had no time for conversation. lost in thought, he was donning heavy wool zipper jacket and cap. “we’ll have to get in touch with gramp perkins somehow.” he spoke as if thinking aloud. “mut and i are to be gone for several days—weather like this——” valley was quick to understand. “we’ll get gramp perkins and guy, too. win and i will, i mean. we can reach their shack this morning—probably best on snow- shoes. the snow’s still too soft for skis. we’ll bring gramp and guy back with us. there’s nothing any- body can do around here weather like this but shovel paths and feed. guy’s grand at the shoveling; he’s so strong. and gramp perkins can measure out and mix the feed. with me and win to help with the actual feeding——” ' this time david’s grin was one of pure gratitude. “you really think——” he was standing, hesitant for a moment, with a hand on the knob of an outside door. valley nodded decisively. “i don’t think,” she burros to the rescue laughed. “i know.” she was already whisking up the stairs toward her bedroom to get into proper clothes. and david, in his heavy boots, was outside, plodding steadily through the swiftly gathering drifts toward phantom ranch. he found mut already at work in the barnyard. david’s appearance, unexpected this early, was not welcomed. not so much, david surmised, be- cause mut was in the act of feeding the burros, as because he was doing it with a decidedly lavish hand. “can’t let ’em starve,” he muttered at david’s approach. “got to have enough, too, to keep them warm.” but there was more than fear of david’s reprimand in mut’s manner; there was the danger to his pride in hav- ing dave see how those friendly little gray and brown beasts, once so despised, had “got” him. no matter how much a fellow resented having them turned over to his care, he would be less than human, wouldn’t he, if he hadn’t got to liking them after working with and train- ing them all fall? dave chisholm needn’t think it was so funny. and dave didn’t. he was decidedly pleased with the whole situation. “say, mut, did you listen to the news and weather reports this morning?” “hadn’t any time to listen,” mut retorted. “got to stay out of school today as it is—even if i could get there—haven’t i? put in the day shoveling and feeding.” david went on. “well, i did. and the announcer told plenty. snow blockades are piling up everywhere in the high country over the range beyond camp mule and the angela. you don’t have to guess twice to know what the situation’s getting to be in elk town and oreton. a shadow over winding ranch few days of being cut off from the outside world doesn’t matter much; they had supplies enough on hand for that. but if the blockade keeps up—if the trains don’t run, say, for another week—they’ll be desperate for mighty important things, like fuel and feed and food and mail. oreton’s the worst off, of course. it gets shut off from the world every year or two even in ordinary winters. but this siege has lasted longer than any they ever had before. and the way things look at present, the end’s still a long way off.” “well, we aren’t living up there.” mut still did not look at david. he had taken a handful of oats from a capacious reefer pocket and was letting a brown burro nuzzle it out of his palm while several other little beasts jealously tried to shove their way in toward a share in the treat. he laughed as the brown burro vigorously kicked out first one hind foot, then the other, causing a generous spraying of snow to be whirled into the faces of his interfering companions. all the while he was licking and gobbling greedily himself. all the while, too, mut was really listening too keenly to david to interrupt. dave chisholm wasn’t talking at any such length for nothing. mut was conscious he had some- thing up his sleeve. “airplanes are trying to make it, the radio said,” david went on. “dropping what supplies they can into barricaded towns. but that’s awfully expensive and not very satisfactory. there are too many things they can’t drop safely. besides, flying up there just now is risky business. it’s awfully cold and most of the time, with the air so full of snow, visibility’s practically zero.” shadow over winding ranch town, well, they’ll have to buck worse things than any drifts they’ll find in the draw, after they leave the rail- road at the other end of the journey. the mail will be able to get as far as elk town by train tomorrow, they say. the railroad has managed to open its line that far. but from there on, they’re planning now to carry the most important mail, at least, to oreton by pack on our burros. it’s nearly twenty miles, all up steep grade, and mostly ice. think these little mountain birds of ours can make it?” “you bet they can make it. b—b—by golly, dave!” mut’s black eyes were as round as an owl’s. david smiled. leisurely he shifted his weight from one heavily-booted foot to the other. “want the job?” he queried as carelessly as he could manage. he added before mut could find tongue to answer, “told them i had an ai pack train man i could bring along and prob- ably leave to help with the drives if they wanted him. a fellow that my little mules knew and trusted; in fact, the very kid who had trained them to the pack. there’ll be government men on hand to help with the job, of course. if you don’t want to go, though, mut, i’ll——” there was no need for more. mut’s teeth were fairly chattering with eagerness. “dave chisholm,” he broke forth in one impulsive outburst, “i—i’ll forgive you everything! ” thought of the amount of school he must lose never even occurred to horace lamb. not only was his long- cherished indignation against david dropping from him, but admiration for david’s swift, timely action breathed through every move of preparation the boy began at burros to the rescue once to make. “golly, dave, there’s no slow farm fel- low about you, no matter what anybody may think from looking at you. you don’t let any grass grow under your feet.” david laughed. “oh, yes, i do. all i can get of it. on the grazing range where we need it.” such was the lighthearted spirit of companionship in which the two boys put in a hard, strenuous day. at the end of it they and their charges were well on their rattling, swaying, battling way up into the regions of the isolated, snowbound mountain towns. as david rolled into his blankets that night in a caboose bunk, he was thinking, “i’m really finding at last a way to win mut. what’s more, i owe it to dad—to one of his un- successful dreams.” after long years of ridicule and precarious existence, the burros were coming into their own. f,\___=—-——-t "--' ??? a / ‘ ‘f‘ /" [$ //i/i i /l“ a ,/viii‘ ,~+>iiw h‘ /j // ( ‘q \~% \'l j // ii ‘ll! é il~ / /s lllj\ l l.lll!‘iiii“f/lliii|“/é“//p ,.ai\i\\l\ chapter xvi springtime in the rockies david lay awake. mut was already sound asleep in the opposite bunk, worn out from battling drifts. all day, competent and willing, he had worked tirelessly. the air in the caboose was becoming decidedly cold; outside, the thermometer must be dropping fast. david was glad he had brought so many blankets. he snuggled down into them up to his nose, and now that the en- grossing activities of the day were over, let his mind wander over the unspectacular aspects of this adventure into which he and mut had plunged. about the humanitarian side of it he had no doubts, but second thoughts were beginning to trouble him as to what it might mean to him economically. there was springtime in the rockies always maggie herstan s attitude to be reckoned with, or rather, guessed at. of one thing he felt certain. her keen eye would be centered on the economic side; if that failed, the humanitarian side would mean little to her. had he been foolish to take this venturesome plunge when financially things were promising so well for him? if the sale of his seed corn kept up as it had begun, if next summer were another good growing year, he should be able in the fall not only to meet all tax and interest payments but even to pay off a little on the mortgage. maggie herstan had been pretty considerate about the mortgage situation, accepting the clause sug- gested by alex arkins—that david could pay whatever amount he wished on any interest paying day; she had even put that day late in october after the season’s crops would be assured. david had dreamed of never missing a year without paying something, until winding ranch would be completely his. certainly he did not want to miss a payment this first year. a second long-cherished dream was combined with the first. making a sizable payment this fall would surely help him in his final chance for the american farmer degree. it had been a harder experience for him than he would ever acknowl- edge to have neal prove eligible for that honor before he himself could. one thing was clear to him. if he went behind on the burro venture, there probably would not be any money for a mortgage payment. was this chance of winning mut really worth the risk he had taken? not, perhaps, if there were only mut and maggie herstan to be con- shadow over winding ranch sidered. but there was also mr. deane, upon whose at- titude the continuance of the karakul experiment de- pended. to have to abandon the karakul project would be a long first step toward failure in david’s hopes for winding ranch. the thought of ever having to take such a step was not to be endured. there was one way out of the whole situation. he must see to it that the rental and the use of his burros brought enough financial returns to cover all the expense of transporta- tion and shelter at nights away from home. his mind clear on that point, he fell asleep to the screeching of wheels upon ice-covered rails. all that night and part of the next day the pufling engine labored slowly upward, its little train of narrow-gauge freight cars swaying and squeaking over winding, climbing, recently-cleared tracks into an altitude of nearly six thousand feet above that of wagon rest. at last it drew into the yards of the mountain burg of elk town. there in the midst of a great, strange, utterly white world the boys found themselves and their charges eagerly awaited. willing hands began at once to help unload and care for the little mules. david left to mut the responsibility of overseeing all this, while he, him- self, hurried to a meeting with the post office authorities. there he completed arrangements for the use of his pack string, as well as mut’s accompanying services, for as long as they should be needed. personally he would accompany the string only on its first upward trek. it was not really necessary for him to go at all. but his natural boyish longing to have some actual share in the springtime in the rockies first romantic pack mule journey was too strong to resist. the burros behaved beautifully from the first. as if sensing their own importance and appreciating their welcome, they trotted along in brisk obedience, long- eared heads held alert in the cold air, to such quarters as little elk town had been taxed to find for them. there was no stint of feed; the boys had brought that with them. tomorrow the burros’ work would begin. townspeople, well swathed in protecting clothes, were on the scene the next morning to see the pack train set out, even before the boys had finished driving the string into the wide alley behind the post office build- ing where the loading was to be done. there, one by one, each little beast had his pack adjusted and secured. although several local hands had been summoned to help with the packing, david and mut did a large share of the work and took all the responsibility. meanwhile, the post oflice men delegated to accompany the string were busy with the dividing and tying up of the mail. it would be days, perhaps weeks, before all the accumu- lated undelivered mail of these last three weeks could hope to reach its destination. on this first trip the packs were to carry only the first-class mail and such pack- ages of parcel post as contained the necessities to supply oreton’s most outcrying needs. bulky packages, each amounting to parcel post’s full weight limit of seventy pounds, loomed conspicuously among the mail designated to go. piles of these bundles sprawled on cleared stretches of cement flooring at either side of the post oflice building’s back steps. mut shadow over winding ranch glowered at them belligerently as soon as his eye fell upon them. in an angry whisper he muttered to david, “what in thunder’s in those? is packing stuff like that in the bargain you made? that isn’t mail. it’s freight. and look at the number of them. fifty—maybe, one hundred.” “thirty-nine,” david returned; he had counted them. he, too, had been eying them askance. the tall dark postmaster, supervising the scene, over- heard mut’s remark. “i’m sorry,” he began. “we don’t like handling them any better than you do. but they’ll have to go. they contain something that uncle sam has never before attempted to send by mail. alfalfa hay and chopped cattle feed. oreton has to have them to save its babies. those babies are crying for milk. and with nothing left to feed their cows, oreton’s milk men can’t give it to them—maybe not for weeks—unless uncle sam comes to their rescue. uncle sam, that is, and you.” without further protest the boys set to work at the loading. a new respect for uncle sam’s dependability arose in david as he swung packs up into pack saddles and pulled the ropes tight with cinch knots. it had be- come exhilarating to be one of the persons responsible for the beginning of such unique transportation. send- ing this hay, he learned, was a losing deal financially for the post oflice. a ton of hay required fourteen dollars of stamps to send it only part of the way. the transfer by pack burro to oreton would cost at least an extra five cents a pound, and there was no telling how long such transportation would have to be kept up. springtime in the rockies other snatches of talk came to the ears of the boys as they worked, chiefly tales of the havoc wrought by surrounding storms and slides. many of these the boys had already heard the night before. the details were to come back vividly to their minds more than once, clari- fied to an intensity not always welcome, during the hard slow climb upon which they and the laden burros began at last to embark. a hard grueling trip it proved to be, fraught with danger at every turn. although heavy snow was no longer falling, the tem- perature had dropped to nine degrees below zero and a high wind was howling, lifting great clouds of snow spray to bite savagely into their faces, to obstruct the onsweeping view at critical moments, to pile ever higher the impeding drifts along the trail in many places, and in others to sweep it clear down to long stretches of glass-smooth ice. more than once the boys were grate- ful for the sure-footedness of their charges. everywhere the trail was steep, the curves frequent and danger never ceasing. it had taken effort enough to clear the last stretches of the track over which david, mut and the burros had reached elk town. beyond and above that town fur- ther clearance had been declared impossible. the only hope people living above elk town had at present for any touch with the outside world lay in the once despised and discarded chisholm burros. even that last telephone line over which oreton had so desperately sent out word of its plight was now down. small wonder david was never to forget the glow and satisfaction he felt when his little expedition entered the springtime in the rockies of oneness with his father’s spirit, such as he had never known during his father’s lifetime, came to david on that trip. it permeated him, even amid his ceaseless, watchful activity, with a queer kind of happiness, that was at the same time partly humility and sorrowful regret. other things, too, came to david on that eventful trek. one was a new respect for horace lamb. was there for mut, too, in the isolation of this sinister and yet gloriously magnificent world some force that made of him a different person? certainly in this competent, steady young pack driver, often exerting all his energy in the cruelly exhausting task of breaking trail, there was small evidence of the stubborn lad from phantom ranch who had been nursing against his lifelong neighbor a spite that warped and belittled his manhood. queer how mut seemed to need a spectacular responsibility to bring out the best in him. if in this setting mut could so rise above the unfavor- able sides of his character, david, too, could forget them. there sprang up between the two boys, on those sixteen miles of upgrade travel, a new sense of fellowship that was never again to be completely lost. now and then the play of humor heightened it. once, when both boys were struggling against the repeated clogging that made their progress on snowshoes so difficult, mut remarked whimsically, “say, dave, what about you and me writ- ing up this trip as a booster article for some chamber of commerce trying hard to attract tourists to the ideal state of colorado? we could call it ‘springtime in the rockies.’ ” the date was the third of march. - springtime in the rockies that was to mean most to david. a few days later an- other arrived that in his eyes justified the entire burro undertaking and experiment. yet he neither showed nor mentioned it to anyone else in the draw. it was written from oreton, and began, dear dave: wish you were still here to help with the packs. have to watch these “greenies” all the time they’re at the loading job to keep the burros’ backs from being rubbed. refused flat to put four burrosin the string today, or any day, until they’re all okay again. cold as a refrigerator in this room, due to fuel shortage. fingers too numb to write much. have already written one letter tonight. you can’t guess who to. that mr. deane who let you have the karakuls. thought he might like a letter that was carried out by pack mule from this now famous snowbound town. had to say something in it, of course. so i owned up to him that i was the fellow who sneaked those ten karakuls of yours off up to camp mule last spring. told him why i did it, too. because i owed it to you for getting them when i didn’t. ]ust the way i feel now maybe i owe it to you to own up about doing it. made a clean breast of the whole thing while i was at it. owned up i lied to your dad that you had sent them up to him to test out the use of the camp mule range for karakuls. i knew, of course, he never wrote home. told mr. deane there wasn’t any steal to it; that i never dreamed the sheep wouldn’t be perfectly safe up there with your dad to look after them. they would have been, too, if your dad hadn’t died. in other words, i gave him the whole works, straight. thought this was a good time to do it now that i’m way up here on too important a job for him to go prosecuting /lrq $ "\ / ’lf\$/ jr /'// fi / // n“ ‘* \/ » n ’ / chapter xvii a hero’s unjust reward for more than seven weeks mut and his string of pack mules worked hard for uncle sam in the high, snow-barricaded mountain country. three days a week, heavily laden, they entered isolated oreton. on alter- nating days, with no burden but a little outgoing mail, they returned downward over the grade to elk town. the last upward journey came early in may. by that time the length of the trip had been cut in half. the rail- road had succeeded in clearing the drifts from eight more miles of track, as far as the next post office town of needle point. by that time, too, all the accumulation of second- and third-class mail and parcel post had been cleared from the lower post offices, and other people were helping to carry merchandise into oreton. a hero’s unjust reward on may seventh the padding feet of fifty-odd gray and brown burros once again sounded up the rough winding road into old woman’s draw. they were the same gentle, friendly creatures they had always been, a trifle thinner, but harder, little the worse for their experiences. horace lamb was still their chief driver. and there certainly was no shame now in that driving. long before the burros began filing down out of the stock cars in wagon rest’s freight yard, they had be- come a hero string in charge of a hero driver. soon they were heading for the same run-down ranch from which they had come. but no longer was that old ranch obscure and unknown. newspaper dubbing and publicity had given it a new name, burro ranch. david had adopted it, saying to a protesting valley, “i like it. calling the place phantom ranch was always a mistake because it ridiculed it. burro ranch not only fits it now, but there’s pride in it and a lot of free advertising.” valley understood what he meant. the once worth- less burros had become an asset. the government had paid adequately for the use of the little mules. mut, in addition to his share in this sum, had received regular wages for the seven weeks of his service. on the ques- tion of money there had never been any disagreement between david and mut. but the financial returns to both boys had gone well beyond the government returns. romantic fame had brought a market demand for the little beasts. parents were writing to ask if they might purchase a head or two of the burros as pets for their children. dude ranchers in the hills, recognizing the little mules’ sudden advertising value among prospective shadow over winding ranch tourists, were also seeking to buy. david had decided to sell part of the string in such markets. but first he wanted mut to select the twenty he most desired—his contribution toward the lambs’ tourist service next summer. there was no longer any doubt of those services being needed. the news stories of the burros’ recent achieve- ments had included mention of the lambs’ prospective summer tourist business. inquiries were already arriving from the east in such numbers that it seemed doubtful that burro ranch would be able to accommodate all comers, even if its numerous idle outbuildings were transformed into tourist cabins. mut, voluble everywhere but on the trail, even in let- ters, had written home to his mother glowing plans for the future. given a good summer and a good turkey crop next fall, he believed college might be possible for him and winifred the second semester of the next school year. no real agricultural course for him, though. he didn’t like crop raising well enough. he intended to en- roll in forestry. if mrs. lamb rented light housekeeping quarters in fort collins, valley could go along, too, and board with them. although valley had not rejected the plan, she had responded to it so far only with a shrug. “i’m one per- son,” she had asserted whenever opportunity gave her the chance, “who isn’t going to fall at mut lamb’s feet in admiring praise when he gets home.” to david she added, “i at least remember that mut owes all his good luck to you, even if everybody else in this place seems to have forgotten it, including mut himself.” a hero’s unjust reward there was more truth in her statement than david cared to acknowledge. he was in the welcoming crowd that received mut and the burros on the day of their return, a depth in the heartiness of his greeting beyond that of anyone else’s. he played a leading part, too, in the final homeward drive. but few people seemed aware of his presence. not only the home community but also the general public appeared to have forgotten that david had had any connection with the pack train adventure at all. one or two of the earlier newspaper accounts had mentioned him as the burros’ real owner. but all the later, longer, more widely distributed articles had told nothing of his part in the federal service. of course, he had been off the scene when they were written, and mut conspicuously on it. easy enough to see why the burros were no longer spoken of as the chisholm burros even around wagon rest. once dubbed “the lamb kara- kuls” in derision, they had now become the lamb burros in pride. a few evenings after his return, mut gave an illus- trated talk on his experiences. it took place in the audi- ence room of wagon rest’s community church, alex arkins helping with the lanter n slides. mut, glowing with enjoyment in his role, created an excellent impres- sion, the naive ingenuousness of his narrative carrying his audience with him. their proud, enthusiastic ap- plause lifted mut high on the wave of elation. but at least one of his hearers, valley chisholm, refused stub- bornly to share in that applause. so rebellious was her mood on the way home that david teased her about it. “mut sure did have a good time, didn’t he? and he - shadow over winding ranch did a darn good job. short as he is, he’s got a good plat- form presence. and he certainly can slick himself up. he actually looked handsome up there tonight.” “handsome!” valley scoffed. “what he made me think of was a toad, all swelled up with his own import- ance. ego, ego, ego—that’s all there was to that talk—to every incident in it.” there was some truth in valley’s statement. ego the speech had had in plenty; but it had been so ingenuously sincere and unself-conscious that it had given offense to few. even david had not minded it; he rather admired it. he could not make a speech like that. he could give a practical talk to farmers inter- ested in the same problems in which he was interested, but he sought no claim to popular speaking ability such as mut’s and knew no envy of it. mut’s youth helped, too, to make the ego forgivable even locally, just as it had unquestionably added much to the glory of his new fame. “he makes me sick,” valley tossed her curly black head in indignation, “telling people just as little as he possibly can about owing the whole chance to you. he actually seems to think he’s the person who has put old woman’s draw on the map lately.” “well, he has.” “according to the newspapers,” valley agreed with caustic scorn. “why didn’t he tell those newspaper re- porters the whole idea began with you?” “probably did, at first. but it complicated the story, and the reporters preferred it simple. and what’s the odds? if i don’t care, why should anybody else?” “the odds are plenty. do you know what folks are a hero’s unjust reward saying around here more and more lately? (oh, i know you’re always scolding me for listenng to such talk. as if somebody in our family didn’t need to.) they’re saying that mut made this chance in spite of you. that after you rented phantom ranch you tried to snow mut’s chances there completely under, by the insult of handing him the care and responsibility of those worth- less burros. that instead of balking, mut showed how smart he was by accepting the insult like a man, train- ing the burros well, then turning the tables on you com- pletely. and a lot of folks are saying, too, that they’re downright glad to see you getting such a come-uppance, because you’ve always been such a reserved and stand- offish fellow, never good for much except work and telling folks about your own accomplishments at public meetings and such, while mut has always been such a nice friendly chap, always willing to stop and chat with folks about what’s going on wherever he meets them.” “true enough, i guess.” her brother’s philosophic attitude exasperated rather than soothed valley. “as if mut’s flashy adventure com- pares in fineness to what you’ve done! what about your high altitude seed corn? isn’t that worth something? of course,” honesty forced her to add, “what you’ve done isn’t nearly so romantic or so spectacular as packing into oreton in winter—just working and studying until you did what you were trying to do. that’s why, i suppose, petty-minded folks are so jealous of you; because they haven’t got the qualities you have that make you able to do it. but they needn’t carry their jealousy to the shadow over winding ranch point of hinting at a lot of unjust things against you. after all, mut lamb owes his whole chance to you.” david grinned at her in appreciative, big—brother fashion. valley plunged on, “i wouldn’t mind mut’s present fame so much if for a whole year past he hadn’t been sowing a lot of nasty mean seeds of false talk about you, wherever he could find the chance—then standing back, not only to watch them grow but to help them do it.” “he couldn’t have been doing it lately. he’s been off the scene for two months.” the remark punctured valley’s indignation. “i know it, dave. that’s what makes it so queer. from what i’ve picked up around school, it seems as if somebody—and if it isn’t mut, who is it?-is determined to see that you shan’t get any credit for the burro stunt. not only that, but they seem to want everybody to keep right on hav- ing it in for you about something; if not one thing, then another. they’re still sniping a lot about the karakuls.” david grew thoughtful. what would valley think if she knew about mut’s confession? had he or had he not made a mistake in leaving it to mut to tell of that publicly? certainly, mut had shown no sign of doing so since he’d got home. not that he blamed him much, with the reception mut was getting. “look here, val.” david spoke seriously now. “you’ve got to stop sputter- ing about mut lamb to everybody, even me. ’cause why? because he and i have got to work together all summer. what if mut is getting a little more credit than he deserves? i’m not sure it isn’t a mighty good thing; i a hero’s unjust reward both our ranches ought to profit by it. anyway, pleas- ing maggie herstan’s mighty important for the future of old woman’s draw. so you and i have got to be sensible and philosophic about little things that, after all, don’t really matter so very much. please try to re- member that.” “all right.” valley’s faith in her brother’s judgment made her acquiesce. “funny, wasn’t it, that maggie didn’t come out to hear mut tonight?” then she added her woman’s last word, “i’ll try to remember, too,” she dimpled roguishly, “that famous young horace lamb has a sister named winifred. but that’s all right, dave. i’ve always approved of that.” being sensible and philosophic was not going to prove any too easy for david, himself. he realized that the next evening when the wagon rest chapter of the future farmers of america had its last meeting of the school year. as he drove mut down to the meeting in the jalopy, a certain unacknowledged hope was rising in his heart with every traveled mile. the wagon rest stock judging team, three high school boys, had won the state sheep judging contest that spring. the winners were to accompany mr. arkins to the national convention of the future farmers of america at kansas city in october. but there were funds enough on hand to permit the payment of a generous share of the expenses of one more boy on the trip. david’s great secret hope was that the election would fall upon him. although he was no longer a high school boy, having been graduated two years before, he still had one more school year of eligibility to active shadow over winding ranch future farmer membership. and certainly through raising his seed corn, he had accomplished more agri- culturally this last year than any other boy of the wagon rest chapter. david took his seat in the high school chapter room, nodding here and there to some of the blue-jacketed boys. he no longer knew many of them well; fewer than ever this last year since neal had been away. even the older boys in the group seemed to him a little young. but they respected him, he thought, as much perhaps for being the brother of a national officer as for his own achievements. reserved by nature, he realized rather wistfully that he had always left leadership and the social side of things a little too much to neal. it was hard to get over missing neal, so deep already.in the duties of his national office that he would probably not be home much this coming summer. as soon as he entered the chapter room, mut had been swept away from david into a group of younger boys still eager for firsthand accounts of the packing ex- perience. david did not mind. such tributes were keep- ing mut in an agreeable frame of mind toward david’s burro ranch plans. ‘ the older boy had no forewarning of how unreas- onably and illogically far popularity could sway even the most sensible and practical-minded lads. before the meeting was over david knew. horace lamb, who for four years had barely mustered a passing grade in his farm program and agricultural projects, had been chosen by a two-thirds majority of the chapter members pres- ent, as the one who, in addition to their team, should a hero’s unjust reward attend the kansas city national convention in the fall. alex arkins and a few of the older boys were far from pleased at the decision. but this was the boys’ own organization; the control of its affairs was entirely theirs. l\/ir. arkins’ position was that of adviser only. tonight’s election had fallen strategically at a time when mut’s romantic, popular fame was at its high tide, and prac- tical judgment had been submerged. the boys forgot tonight the long story of horace’s slipshod agricultural accomplishment. they remembered only his success with the once despised burros. he had put wagon rest on the national map. wagon rest must do him compen- sating honor. “you’ve still a chance, dave,” alex arkins remarked to the disappointed older boy when the meeting was over. david knew what the teacher meant. any boy who had a clear chance this fall at election to the national degree of american farmer would be sure to be sent to the national convention by his state organization. but there was no great degree of conviction in the tone in which alex arkins uttered this hope. why? david wondered afterward. it was no conceit on david’s part to be aware that no other state farmer had accomplished anything comparable to what he had done in the matter of his corn. could it be that all the disparaging gossip about him had really been taken seriously enough to have genuinely damaged his reputa- tion? if so, he understood alex arkins’ troubled atti- tude. for according to all standards of the national code, no honor of any kind, no matter what might be his financial and agricultural achievement, could come to shadow over winding ranch a future farmer of america who had failed to live up to the organization’s ideals and requirements of character. yet horace lamb, who last year had robbed david of his chance at american farmer election by his vin- dictive underhanded trick with the karakuls, had to- night been honored because of a chance which david, himself, had brought to the other boy. the situation was more than ironical. it was bitter. all the more so, because had the boys known of the karakul confession, mut would have failed of eligibility on the character requirement. had he made a mistake to insist mr. arkins keep mut’s confession a secret? he wondered. if so, telling now certainly wouldn’t help. it would only make a bigger mess of things than ever. david rode home that night with a heavy heart. com- fort in his mother’s code of ignoring and living above any notice of gossip and jealousy had failed him. fend- ing off valley’s reports of town talk with his practiced assumption of indifference was going to be harder now than ever. little val had full faith in him, though, he thought gratefully. and winifred. and alex arkins. so, for that matter, had horace lamb. well, that was something. from now on he would have to try to make the most of it. but the resolution could not make the ride home with his triumphant companion a pleasant experience, even though mut was, fortunately, too elated to be aware of the other boy’s mood. as he listened abstractedly to mut’s flow of chat, his hands on the steering wheel guiding the old car upgrade and around familiar curves, david’s mind was at work. his current year’s endorsed future farmer agricultural /qa chapter xviii a strange theft riilfns season began well. nobody on winding ranch or burro ranch knew an idle minute. not only was there all the work of the field crops—plowing, harrowing, planting, cultivating—as well as the spring lambing and shearing of the karakuls, but the new poults, too, re- quired unending care. winifred devoted herself to those on burro ranch. valley, doing all she could in out-of- school hours, promised to assume full responsibility of the chisholm flock as soon as school was out. mut’s situation was much like valley’s except that his present school burden was heavier. he had plenty of back work to make up to be able to graduate the first week in june. l\"ot that he took it very seriously. he a strange theft breezed along, confident that his recent achievements would insure his success. and for once he really seemed interested in farm work, especially that concerned with hay for the burros and garden products for summer and fall tourists. he decided, too, to grow a field of david’s new variety of seed corn. david was pleased; that, he felt sure, would meet with maggie herstan’s favor. once again david’s own greatest interest centered on a five-acre field of seed corn. but other things promised well, also. a certain number of the new karakul lambs were now legally his, payment for his winter care and feeding of the flock. old man perkins had proved re- liable help during the lambing season. the quiet slow gentle old man had asked for the herding job that surn- mer, saying he would work for small pay as it was the sheep he cared for rather than the money. david had gratefully accepted his offer. but weather worry is always with the farmer, whether his land lie in an irrigated section of the west or in a natural rain belt. thus it happened that ten days after the wagon rest future farmer meeting, david and mut, clad in the heavy hip boots of the irrigation farmer and armed with long irrigating shovels carried rifle-wise over their shoulders, trudged over the humps of soggy pasture land toward the draw’s private reser- voir, now filled to capacity. unlike ahnost all the other irrigated farms of the locality, the two ranches up the draw depended for water upon no big irrigation system, but on a miniature private one of their own, built long ago by david’s grandfather. “we’ve been lucky so far,” mut commented with shadow over winding ranch cheerful confidence. he felt flattered this morning that david had yielded to his suggestion to run enough water out of the reservoir to flood the neighboring burro pastures. just as a safeguard against possible overflow, mut had urged. a week or ten days of heavy steady rainfall was due any time now. with water conditions what they already were, such a rain would mean flood. “i only hope this isn’t waste,” commented david. “waste!” mut scoffed. “if we happen to have a hot dry summer, it may mean these pastures’ salvation.” “and consequently the burros’,” david returned as he grinned ruefully. couldn’t mut ever foresee possi- bilities beyond his own immediate interests? “give us a summer like that and the pastures would likely be all that would be saved.” little did he dream how prophetic those words were to prove. "~ that year the expected rain did not come. not a drop of water fell after the middle of april. and before the smnmer was half over it was desperately longedlfor. for it was a summer of such hot winds and persistent heat as had not been known in that section of colorado for fifty years. the season that had started out high with hope and plentiful of promise was to end in disaster for many a valley farmer and rancher. by july thoughtful farmers were no longer assuaging the thirst of fields as completely as they would have liked. before august arrived there was little hope left of assuaging it at all. the once flourishing fields had be- come parched and dust-covered, many of them hope- lessly so. irrigation ditches, as well as local reservoirs, were dry. a strange theft in david’s heart, however, hope was still high. so far his corn had thrived. as long as water from the private draw reservoir was plentiful, hot sunshine and warm nights were an asset. even so he had had to work especi- ally hard to get his results, stinting the run of water to other crops that the corn might not suffer, but the extra work had paid well. it looked as though his yield might almost equal last year’s. that, too, at a time when almost every other farmer’s attempt to grow a crop from david’s seed corn would scarcely be worth salvage. he had been lucky, too, with the karakuls, thanks to the camp mule grazing rights he had inherited from his father. david had gone to the higher range twice this summer and had been pleased to note the healthiness of the flock under the two perkinses’ care. even burro ranch had proved an asset. that was entirely because of the tourist business. david’s share of that would pay the rent for the place. surely maggie herstan was shrewd enough to see that in a bad agri- cultural season, mut was right to neglect his crop grow- ing, since he could so much more profitably use his time as guide to the sportsmen tourists. too bad, of course, he had wasted money on seed in the spring. but what farmer around had not? and so far he had really kept up the big vegetable garden that helped so bountifully to set his mother’s table, and the spring-inundated burro pastures had proved adequate for the reduced burro herd. all this david wrote occasionally late at night to neal. back of the details burned the hope he never really expressed in words. that surely, with the promise of his a strange theft not his, he wanted to be sure of what he was going to do when his turn did come. if it would only rain! he looked up, as he was con- tinually doing these days, to scan the overhead sky. he met only the glare of a brilliant cloudless blue. but if he saw no cloud, he did see something else. over a high ridge, well into the rolling distance to the side of the draw, six little mules were plodding—three with riders, three with packs. “mut,” david thought with mixed emotions. “off on another camping and fishing excursion. with today his day for water. he ought to put in the whole day on that corn of his, if he hopes to save any of it.” david was vexed. mut’s neg- lected cor n certainly did not look like david’s. mut’s could not hope to make grain, except for a few nubbins; but with a good irrigation today it should make much needed silage for the cows. “like as not he turned his water into the big vegetable garden instead of the corn. maybe he was wise, at that. but surely he wouldn’t leave the distributing and follow-up work for his mother. she hasn’t any time for it; besides, it’s too hard.” he checked cockle’s trot and swung off the horse’s bare back, leaving the animal standing in the deep dust beside the road while he himself walked across to the head of his corn field. surprise gripped him before he had reached the spot. once there, he stood still and stared. he had expected to find the ditch bone dry, its soil baked to a cracked crust since the last time he had run water through it. instead, it was richly dark with satura- tion and seeping moisture. as far as his eye could reach, shadow over winding ranch the furrows of the field were richly wet. his corn had had a thorough irrigation. sometime during the night someone who knew all about the draw’s irrigation sys- tem, its headgates and its ditches, must have let a gener- ous flow run down from the low water still in the res- ervoir. who? mut, of course. it could not have been any- body else. plain enough now why mut was not irrigat- ing today. he had used the water on david’s corn. that meant that david could use his own share for the late potatoes that so badly needed it. david rode back up the draw pondering mut’s reasons for the act. they were not hard to imagine. mut had done it partly, perhaps, to excuse himself for neg- lecting his own crops. undoubtedly, too, he had another motive in diverting that water: gratitude to david for not having tarnished his oreton glory by revealing the karakul confession and for easing up on required hours of work when tourists were at hand. “it was mighty darn generous of the kid, any way you look at it,” david thought gratefully. maybe, though, he ought not to ac- cept it, not so much for mut’s sake, as for maggie her- stan’s ranch. actual water, of course, could not be re- turned, but he could use his own forthcoming share on the needs of burro ranch. no, he decided, to do that would be tactless and un- appreciative. the only thing for him to do was to accept the gift in the spirit in which it was given. he would not even mention the matter unless mut did first. it wasn’t exactly like mut to keep silent long about a thing like that. likely, though, mut had consulted alex a strange theft ~ arkins about how to turn that water over to david before he had done it. that would help to excuse his own future farmer crop record for the summer. during the succeeding weeks david saw very little of mut. the boy was at home only two full days during the next fortnight and david seized that opportunity to make another inspection trip up to camp mule, leaving mut to attend to winding ranch chores. it was under- stood that while david was gone, mut was to use nearly all the water left to irrigate his mother’s big vegetable garden. his mother was depending on that garden for much of her table supplies during the fall tourist season. mut was gone again when david got back, having set out with an already packed outfit the moment david’s approach was assured. because he knew mut would be awaiting him, david did not stop to look at his corn while coming up the draw. but he went back to it at his first opportunity. the weather these last two weeks had been hotter than ever. he knew that field would show its need of one more irrigation at least. silly of him to go to look at it when he knew perfectly well it could not have it. he ought to be thankful that things were as good as they were. i but once again, on reaching the field, he met with a surprise. if not quite as great a one as before, it was one that touched him more and filled him with greater gratitude. for again that field had had a fair irrigation- from the looks of it, only the night before. whose water? he did not have to be told. but to make sure, he rode up to burro ranch to see. yes, the vegetable gar- den was bone this time mut’s generosity troubled shadow over winding ranch him. it meant a genuine sacrifice and not altogether a wise one; the tourist business needed that garden. as soon as mut was home again he would speak to the boy about the water diverting. probably he had made a mis- take not to have done so before. but before mut was back, valley arrived at home one day from the turkey camp. as soon as she reached winding ranch, valley sought out david to announce that she had left winifred with both flocks because she, herself, simply had to take a trip to town. “what for?” david inquired in good-natured curi- osity. “because,” she replied with determination, “i’ve got to find out what win’s worrying about. she simply won’t tell me.” she knew how to pique david’s real interest. “but it isn’t hard to figure out that it’s some- thing about you. that’s why i’m going to town. don’t think i don’t know enough spiteful, gossipy busy- bodies who will be tickled to death to tell me everything that’s been going on about us.” sarcasm edged sharply into her voice as she added, “of course they’ll tell me entirely for our ‘own good’, because we chisholms freally ought to know.’ that’s the excuse by which i always get it.” when she drove the jalopy back into the barnyard late that afternoon the fire of indignation was bright in her dark eyes. she announced at once that she in- tended to stay at home all evening. but after she had prepared supper and called david in to eat, she talked of trivial things. the only significant remark she made during the meal was, “alex arkins got home yesterday.” ~=;=ij-~ , a strange theft did mut get his share of it? i should say not. look at his crops. don’t you suppose that more than one farmer around here was all primed to pick up any nasty suspi- cious talk he could get about you and your corn? espe- cially when it helped work up sympathy for mut, the great public hero? can’t you just hear a lot of the town cats putting their heads together and whispering about it? oh, not really saying much at first, just lifting eye- brows and shrugging shoulders as much as to say, ‘dirty work, somewhere.’ well, i can hear them, if you can’t.” she gave a peremptory toss of her head to forestall interruption, and hurried on to voice the question she had read in david’s bearing. “how did i tumble to all this, out on the turkey range? through win and her mother, that’s how. mrs. lamb’s boarders do get to town, and they pick up things and talk about them afterward at the table. seem to think a lot of what they hear is mighty amusing, so country-town-characteristic that it’s awfully funny. and sometimes mrs. lamb over- hears them. then once in a while when she rides up to the camp to bring us food, she tells about them. oh, not to me. to win, while i’m rounding up turkeys or kill- ing a snake. the last time, after her mother had gone, i could see win was worried desperate, and i just knew it was about you—and some way, too, connected with mut. so i said straight to win——-” david’s blue eyes suddenly flashed in the way val- ley’s dark ones so often did. “what have you been saying to win?” he demanded. “i just asked her what she was so worried about. did shadow over winding ranch she think that young upstart brother of hers was getting jealous of you again?” “did \vin_——” david began hesitatingly. “say that was what was the matter with her? no. she’s too loyal. so i told her she could take care of both turkey herds for one day. that i was going to town to find out. well, i went. and i found out plenty.” valley’s hands ceased working. she had just given the separator parts their thorough scalding and was putting the steaming kettle back upon the stove. her active little figure suddenly stood very still. her big dark eyes focused directly upon her brother’s face. “dave,” she began solemnly, as if forcing herself to an utterance from which she had been shrinking ever since her return, “they’re saying all over town that you’re a- a water rustler.” as if for relief she broke suddenly into mimicry of the nasal, maliciously insinuating tone of a busybody every- one knew in the valley. “so young dave chisholm has got a real cor n crop, has he? and how did he get it? by stealing water that belongs to another ranch—that’s how. talk about double-crossin’! ain’t no meaner way o’ doin’ it than over water. a thief! that’s what that there smart young dave chisholm is—a water rustler. who wants to raise champion seed corn when that’s the way it’s got to be done? talk about hoss thieves and cattle rustlers! hung, they was out in this here west in the early days by the vigilantes. that’s what folks thought of thieves in this here country in them days. it’s what they think of ’em now. only there’s a dirtier thieving going on these times. the fellow who’ll steal water lost hope but state champion seed corn producer. that was what the stolen water, plus the extra work he had done to promote night irrigating, had done for it. the thought was bitter with irony. the extra work had proved a boomerang; all it had done had been to build up damaging circumstantial evidence against david as a water thief. he had not the slightest doubt of mut’s having done the diverting. but that mut had done it with evil intent was not so easy to believe. true, he had kept complete secrecy about it, but that, after all, was not unlike mut when it concerned a generous act of his own. it was altogether possible that mut had done the diverting neither from generosity nor with evil pur- pose, but solely as an excuse for his neglect of his own fields. for mut was wise enough to know that many a wagon rest future farmer whose vote had helped to give him the prospective trip to the convention at kan- sas city, now greatly regretted that vote. at the same time, mut certainly had no intention of foregoing the tri . icould mut possibly have been mean enough to want to hurt david’s chances at the same trip he was to have himself? especially as david would gain it through eli- gibility to an honor for which mut himself had not the slightest chance? david was ashamed of the thought before it had finished passing through his mind. mean- ness would never deliberately go as far as that with mut lamb. mut might have done what he did for his own self-protection, perhaps even dropped the hints that had started the town gossip against david, never once stopping to think what the repercussions would come to shadow over winding ranch mean. but the damage was the same whether the act was mere thoughtlessness or vindictiveness. arrived in front of alex arkins’ house at the outskirts of wagon rest, david turned off the ignition and stepped out of the jalopy with unusual reluctance. for the first time in five years he was uncertain as to how mr. arkins would receive him. for david was bringing to him the complete, accurately kept accounts and rec- ords of a full farm program that was the ultimate result of his years of vocational and agricultural planning. the gradually enlarging scope of each project had estab- lished him at last in the business of farming. in the light of what valley had told him last night, would he be putting alex arkins in a difficult position by submitting his record? with troubled and discour- aged heart david had debated the question before leav- ing home. “i must submit it,” he finally decided. “be- cause if i don’t, it will look like an acknowledgment of uilt.” g he walked around the house slowly. yes, there was alex arkins, pushing a hand cultivator down between rows of sweet corn in his drying vegetable garden, do- ing what he could to conserve moisture that was really no longer there. seeing david, he paused at an upper row and leaned on the cultivator handle. he smiled at the boy in welcome. after an exchange of greetings, he took the folder david handed him. david sensed his troubled mood at once. “i understand all right, mr. arkins. i know i can’t expect anything from this. but i wasn’t going to dodge submitting it anyway, when there’s no reason why i should. but i don’t expect lost hope any endorsement from you, or from the others. that wouldn’t be fair, i know, the way things stand. not until i can prove the truth.” his direct, straightforward glance was centered on the teacher. distressed sympathy was in the teacher’s face as he fingered the folder. personal relief was there, too, as if he had received from the boy an understanding he had scarcely expected. “so you know,” he said. he at- tempted encouragement. “we’ll ferret it out yet, dave.” the boy’s face brightened. alex arkins, then, still had full faith in him. “of course we will. i’m not going to give up until i do. but i’m not fooled about it. it will be too late then for this.” he nodded toward the folder in the other’s hands. “i’m fated, i guess.” he attempted a smile, as if he were the one seeking to ease the situation for the other. “last year it was the loss of the karakuls. and this year——” he squared his shoulders, truth ringing through his tones. “i’m no water rustler, mr. arkins. no more than i was a karakul thief.” “i know it, dave.” conviction was equally strong in the teacher. he crossed both forearms on the top of the cultivator handle and leaned his chin upon them. “let me have your story of the whole situation,” he said and listened intently as david gave it. “i thought mut was giving me the water and was awfully grateful,” david ended. “i never spoke to you about it because it seemed like telling on mut about something he didn’t want told. i thought it not unlikely, though, that he’d told you, himself.” “i never heard of it. of course, i’ve been away. as for the gossip against you—dave, is that horace, too?” shadow over winding ranch between the two, unspoken, lay the thought of many things. to david they were mut’s false accusation against him about the karakuls in an attempt to clear himself, mut’s later silence about his own karakul confession, mut’s failure to give newspapermen a full account of david’s part in the burro transactions. things that it was petty to notice, of course. yet, after all, a boy weak enough for all that might be guilty of worse things. if so, the recollection of his summer friendliness only heightened the bitterness. in david’s present mood the faith he had had in horace lamb was becoming less and less easy to maintain. yet somehow that summer friendliness had always rung true. aloud he was an- swering the teacher’s last question. “i can’t believe so—at least, intentionally.” he re- peated all his late conjectures, concluding, “mut’s out on trail in wild country with three tourist fishermen. nobody knows just where. they’re making one-night camps. so it’s no use trying to hunt him up. but the minute that kid gets home——” determination blazed in david’s eyes as he stated grimly, “i’m going to learn at once every last thing he knows about this whole situa- tion. only,” his tone shifted back to hopelessness as again he nodded toward the folder, “it can’t be in time for that. you told me yourself before you left that today was the very last day that could be sent in.” the merest hint of rebuke was in the tone. if alex arkins had not been away, david would have handed in his records a week ago. not that it would have made any difference, perhaps. still, he would have learned earlier of the accusations against him. or at least the shadow over winding ranch david thought he had come to mr. arkins this morning without hope, with the old aspiration smoth- ered under rebellious resignation in his heart. as he turned away, he knew it was only now that hope had really died within him. i “between us we’ll fight this thing clear and clean yet, dave, never fear.” david was grateful for the words. he knew how sin- cerely they were meant, and with all his heart he ac- quiesced in their decision. there certainly was no thought of patient submission in him. he would fight now until his name was cleared. only as a citizen of happy \vagon valley, though. never again would there rise within him the hope of attaining high honor in the future farmers of america, the national organ- ization of farm youth that for five years had been his guiding star—whose ideals had made of him at last a happy wagon valley rancher and farmer on his own. yes, the ideals, he thought now defiantly. public opinion had condemned him, in the most contemptible and unforgivable way, as false to those ideals. by so doing, it had ruthlessly robbed him of all chance to receive the honors he deserved. false accusations, false propaganda could rob him of the honors. but they could not rob him of the ideals, themselves, nor of the inspira- tion that came to him from them. in his heart of hearts he knew well that he had always lived true to them. whatever others might say about him, whatever they might accuse him of, he would hold his head high, do his own job on his home farm and in his home com- munity, still staunchly true to those ideals and guided l l lost hope awful!” his mood had suddenly become all sympathy. and all david’s doubt of him had vanished, to his own great relief. a few moments later the two were seated close together on the back steps of the house, going over all the puzzling details of the situation. “but you must have known your corn was getting my water on the sly for at least a month. how come you never got worked up about it until these last few days?” mut asked. “because i thought it was only a matter between you and me. i never dreamed anybody else even knew about it, much less that folks were talking about me. from the first i took for granted you were doing it, but until lately i never thought there was any meanness in it. i thought it was mighty darn generous of you. thought i’d just play your game by not speaking to you about it any more than you did to me.” “and i wasn’t generous enough even to think about it. as it sure wouldn’t have hurt me to do.” shame shadowed mut’s interested face. “except for mother’s garden, i didn’t care what you did with the water. my crops were no good, anyhow. besides, after the way maggie herstan treated us last august, i didn’t care a hoot about trying to work this place of hers back into shape, anyhow—not if i could find any other way to make a living.” his shame intensified and was genuine. “it was awful selfish of me, dave. i see now i’d ought to ’a thought more about your side of it. just the same, i never did one single thing to black your eye in public. and from now on i’m going to tell every gossip and ~' shadow over winding ranch jealous windbag in this whole dar n place what i think of the fellow who is doing it.” “thanks, kid. it’ll help some for folks to know you didn’t care about the water. but it won’t prove i haven’t been diverting it. and the way folks seem to have got it in for me—until we do have proof——” “who is doing it, dave? somebody trying to get you in bad with maggie? blast your chance with her as a renter, maybe, so as to get a hold on this place himself, cheap?” mut was so entirely unconscious that his own be- havior of the summer might well have played into the hands of any such person, that a smile wavered over david’s serious face. but there was no amusement in his voice as he said, “or blast my reputation and all my chances as a future farmer?” “by golly, dave, it has done that, hasn’t it? it’s so late now that even clearing your name—'—” “sure is,” david cut in so as not to have to hear the rest of the sentence. “i’m sorry, dave! i’m terribly sorry!” in his impetu- ous way mut was thinking out loud. “it cuts off every leg of a chance you had to get to kansas city in oc- tober, doesn’t it? i really haven’t any business to go, the flop i’ve been as a farmer. even the fellows who voted me the chance last spring know that now. i ought to step out—hand my chance over to you——” sincere as the words were, their inflection showed how hard any such handing over would be. david interrupted by saying, “it wouldn’t do me any good if you did. the way things are, i wouldn’t be . shadow over winding ranch david walked home, still deep in his troubles, but comforted, too, by mut’s innocence and sympathy. one fact stared him in the face. whoever diverted that water must have been well aware of what the cost would be to him. vvho, of allthe people around, could have been so jealous of him as to have gone as far as that? the question seemed unanswerable. a surprise summons most proprietary in it. it amused david whenever he gave it any thought. he was far too deep in his own concerns to give much attention to mut. he was over- whelmingly busy and glad of it. there was the third cutting of alfalfa, paltry though it was, and so dry that the cherished leaves fell from the stunted stalks with the cutting. there were the late potatoes to be dug; had water been available for the late irrigating they would have made an excellent crop; as it was, they did not amount to much. such harvesting was dispiriting work. bringing the karakul flock down from camp mule, however, was really heartening. the karakuls had thrived in the cool heights under old man perkins’ af- fectionate care. where happy wagon valley’s local flocks of sheep had grown thin and weak and dejected of wool on lower pasture lands, the karakuls, designed by nature to stand up under drought, had needed little of the stored fat in their great blobs of tails. david’s one great worry about them had been that wild animals would prey on them. but guard had been with them from the first and guy perkins’ ready marksmanship at marauders had made him worth more than his board and small pay. before september had advanced far, david was gath- ering seed corn in the field and storing it to dry in his big granary. there was certainly no cause for discour- agement in that crop. his own bred variety of seed corn for high altitude irrigated country had proved itself again. seth norton, the county agent, was confident that this year david would be not only county but state shadow over winding ranch champion seed corn producer. an even greater triumph came on the day when mr. norton and alex arkins brought to winding ranch other visitors, two men from the agricultural experiment station at colorado state college. as a result of that visit, the state agricul- tural experiment station was to take over a quantity of david’s seed and test it for five years on its own experi- mental farms, previous to adopting it as colorado’s own variety. no achievement of quite this kind, david knew, had ever before been carried out by a future farmer of america in any state, even in one of the many in which the work and accomplishment of the future farmer or- ganization had been developed to a far larger scale than had yet been the case in comparatively laggard colo- rado. yet such were the conditions under which that achievement was believed by many to have been pro- duced that, for the boy who after long years of struggle and hard work had accomplished it, there could only be more heartache than triumph. he needed no reports from valley to inform him that among his nearest neighbors his success was heightening the bitterness of the feeling against him and increasing the vindictive and even vitriolic talk. he knew, too, that he had staunch defenders. one was mut, but mut was away from home too much to count greatly. others were alex arkins and his friend and associate, seth norton; and more influen- tial still among the older farmers, alex arkins’ father. david was grateful. such defense saved him from the wrecking depths of self-pity. but he knew well that a surprise summons these friends had only faith with which to defend him, no proof. since proof now seemed impossible to obtain, there was, he had decided, only one thing to do—to live down, by his own work and his own steadily maintained integrity in all the affairs of his life, the stain which had so falsely and unjustly been laid upon his name, either accidentally, or deliberately, by some secret agent. ac- complishing this might take years. still, it could be done! and right here in his home community he meant to do it! the loyalty of good friends, of valley, and above all, of winifred, helped him to keep staunch the faith that in time he could do it. . steadily, too, he knew, he must sustain his resolve never to let what people believed of him cause him to avoid human contacts and social activities. nevertheless, he was glad all that fall that the pressure of work kept him closely at home. as september passed and october entered upon its succession of golden days, he was glad of the work for another reason. it would help to assuage his disappointment in not being able to attend the fu- ture farmer national convention. the letters that came from neal, full of convention preparations, made resig- nation far from easy. fortunately rain came at last early in october, just the right kind of rain. he could now put in the time of the whole convention week in long days of fall plowing. the convention was scheduled for the third week in october. on the thursday before, mut lamb came home to begin his preparations for going. as usual he had not been home long before he was out again, riding hurriedly down the draw toward town. on his return shadow over winding ranch trip he stopped at winding ranch to hunt out david. he found him riding the planter on a hill field he was sowing to winter wheat. mut hailed him across an ex- panse of beautifully powdered ground. “come here, dave. i’ve got to speak to you.” david hesitated before obeying. “what is it?” he demanded, keeping one anxious eye on the team he had left standing. mut was excited. “put up that team,” he burst out. “let your planting go. mr. arkins wants to see you in town as soon as you can get there. he told me to tell you.” “what for?” “search me.” mut wheeled his horse and bolted down a slope toward the draw road. if he knew, he was escap- ing from the temptation to tell. more deliberately, david did as he was bid. he un- hitched the team and led it from the half-sown field. soon he was chugging down the draw in a fast-moving jalopy, curiosity and speculation mounting in him. he presented himself in mr. arkins’ high school oflice. the teacher greeted him cordially. “sit down, dave. glad you got here promptly. i’ve no class this hour so i have time to put a proposition up to you that it would be just like your pride to turn down. and you mustn’t do it. accepting will take courage and some independence of spirit. but nothing like as much as you’ve been showing lately. you’ve held your head high and gone on your undisturbed way re- gardless of the false feeling and accusations circulating about you everywhere. now—well, i’ve found a way to show the public the completeness of my faith in you. i v / i i -t- f f"’" i - | &/"f“%/ /‘z” ; l r-y%:$;; z :“»~*»~ -e"“._..- ~ (/ / a- //’ z v ;‘ “ /t ?\ j / w [i ’: . ~ -§\ chapter xxi the vvestern special david, suitcase in hand, stepped off the street car and crossed over toward the long front of the denver railroad station that faced the city. the scene into which he moved was a busy one. his eyes lighted with the glow of eager interest and his heart leaped in re- sponse to the band music that filled the surrounding air. not until he had pressed through the crowds of on- lookers and listeners that lined the curbing could he see the performers, but the music they played told him who they were. it was the marching song of the future farmers of america, and the gusto with which they played it made him want to take off his hat and cheer. a martial quickness sprang into his advancing step. a the western special going, and how railroads from every section of the united states—new england, the south, the pacific coast—were running special trains carrying the future farmers to their convention for amazingly low fares. the big red-faced man was much interested. “i’m a rancher, myself,” he said. “what’s your name, son?” he asked cordially. “david chisholm, sir. from wagon rest.” keen, kindly eyes turned on the boy in sharpened in- terest. “you don’t say. champion seed corn producer. shake.” he put out a strong hand. “i’m proud to meet you, lad. not only a future farmer of america but a real one.” david responded with _a shy, pleased smile, shifting his suitcase to his left hand. how enjoyable it was to have a little fame. not that it would go beyond colo- rado, of course. and even there—— shadows eclipsed the pleasure almost as soon as it was felt. this man had not yet heard of the heavy clouds of dishonor now clustering about the corn champion’s name. but he would soon. and when he did—— david conquered the cowardly impulse toward a hur- ried escape. this—and far worse—was what he was go- ing to have to stand up against all through the coming convention. he must steel himself to doing it, holding his head high as it rightly deserved to be held, regardless of every false accusation. soon the band boys brought their playing to a pre- cipitous close. the train announcer’s tones shrilled through the amplifier, calling the future farmer special to kansas city. the crowds on the platform faced about the western special through the window, now the boys who were his fellow travelers. it was fun discovering things about them from quiet observation. as for mut, he was soon out of his seat, mingling with them, coming back every now and then to tell david what he had learned. david listened, enjoying it all. what a friendly chap mut was. the boys liked him, too. to david many of these boys seemed young. most of them were still in high school, of course, and he had been out for two years. but he was somehow even older than that. he sighed a little, in envy; yet his dark blue eyes smiled and his heart was happy. those boys would show they could do things, he knew, when they had reached kansas city and settled down to responsible work. david liked them—even the youngest among them. he liked the openness of their clean, honest faces, the good-natured chat that flowed back and forth among them throughout the car; he liked, too, their mild wrestling and punching that never went to the point of disorder, but was mere expression of their ani- mal spirits. and he liked their spirit of natural but re- spectful comradeship with the few teachers in the car. he wished that alex arkins might have been one of these. mut was not in his seat much; he was too busy buzz- ing about. little by little david became aware that mut was directing the other boys’ attention to him. at first it troubled him. could mut be telling——? angry at himself, he dismissed the thought even before he overheard, accompanying glances in his direction, the words, “brother of neal chisholm, one of the national . shadow over winding ranch vice-presidents.” that kind of an introduction exactly suited him. he had come to indulge himself in that. perhaps it was because of neal that a large, friendly, rather fleshy man, a state administrator in one of colo- rado’s neighboring states, paused in the aisle for a few words with him, then asked if he would not like to accompany him through the long train of coaches. david complied with alacrity, following the older man through car after car filled with boys from the wester n and pacific states. here and there was an older man, to whom his companion stopped to speak and introduce david. one and all, david liked them. curiously enough, they seemed interested in him, too, and with no touch of censure. he was too modest to have any idea how winning was the shy dignity of his response and the quiet, expressive thoughtfulness of his face. through coach after coach he followed his com- panion into the baggage car at the front. half the car was filled with cases containing the instruments of the sixty-odd boys of the utah band, every one of whom was a future farmer of good standing in some high school chapter of his state. the rest of the car was filled with food contributed by the future farmers toward the huge banquet which would climax the convention’s coming week of activities. for the most part this food had actually been produced by the boys themselves as a result of their own farm programs. there was case after case of ice cream contributed by utah boys of dairy cattle and creamery interests. there was crate after crate of arizona grapefruit, other fruits from cali- fornia, potatoes from colorado. eastern, central and shadow over winding ranch after a good dinner, furnished them very inexpen- sively by the railroad, weary boys relaxed as best they could in their swung-back seats, heads resting against the white-cased pillows the railroad had provided for their comfort. lights were lowered to dimness in the car. talking ceased to an occasional drowsy hum or mur- mur. here and there cramped bodies stirred a little rest- lessly. for the boys from oregon, washington, and california this was the second night without a bed and they were tired. david did not expect to sleep. not that he cared; this whole experience was too interesting; he meant to enjoy a night of drowsy watchfulness. but his young body was far too healthy to permit that. ahnost before he knew it, he was awaking to daylight again, cramped muscles a little stiff; his best suit, so carefully pressed before he left home, showing wrinkles; and the boys be- ginning to buzz in anticipation of pulling into the station in kansas city. and then they were there, swarming out of the train, through the station’s waiting rooms, into, the restaurant, out into the streets, mounting into street cars, filling the sidewalks; eager, a little bewildered, trying to appear casual, yet full of underlying excitement. mut seemed glad to stay close to david this morning; something in his manner brought back to david’s mind the fateful day of their companionship at the scene of their fathers’ tragedies. together they lost themselves in the throng making its way to the huge city auditorium where the convention was to be held. boys, most of them wearing future farmer insignia, were pouring the western special find it engraved on a slab on a corner of the auditorium across the street. i happen to be the architect who planned that building.” mut slopped the coffee in the cup he was raising to his lips, put it down again and exploded, “a big man like that! chumming with us kids. and he was nice! like—like—folks.” david’s sensitive spirit writhed at mut’s tactless out- spokenness. suppose the man overheard. he had, for he turned back toward the boys with an amused grin and lifted a hand in a friendly farewell. what the boys did not know was that in his heart he was thinking that rarely did he meet with so honest and pleasing a tribute. david and mut turned back to the breakfast. they were almost too excited to eat. before long they found themselves back in the audi- torium hall approaching their turns at the registration desks. alex arkins had been there leaving word that a cot for mut had been put in the hotel room occupied by the wagon rest sheep judging team. mut hurried off to find the place. a wave of loneliness submerged david for a moment as he watched mut wind his way through the still oncoming crowds about the long, counter-like desk. then a clerk was addressing him. “if you are david chisholm from wagon rest, colorado, i’ve a message for you. your brother, mr. neal chisholm, left t.” david had no need for the message. from back in the crowd a hand was reaching forward to slap his back. presently an arm whose very feeling he recognized the western special this morning; there was time for only a brief exchange of courtesies. besides, neal wanted david to meet at once some of the older men, the boys’ mature and ex- perienced advisers from the vocational division of the office of education at washington, d. c. all these men, david knew, had once been farm boys themselves. in their hearts and faith they were still farmers, although life had brought them into administrative positions. the first was a frail, worn-looking old man with thinning white hair whom david recognized from pictures he had seen of him in future farmer magazines. he was the national chief, affectionately called “dad” by those future farmers who, like neal, had won posi- tions that brought them into close personal touch with the man. unconsciously neal used the informal word of address now. david understood why when the man grasped him cordially by the hand and the true warmth of fatherly interest shone out from his face, casting into eclipse the first impression of the man’s physical frailty. but there was more than a pleasant meeting for david in that introduction. it lay in the way neal had said, “dad, this is the brother i’ve told you so much about. without him i would never have had my chance.” in neal’s attemptedly casual voice vibrated something more than pride-something deeper, which david was afraid to think about, it brought such a lump to his throat. he welcomed another introduction. this time it was to a man of very different type: much younger, little more than forty, tall, blond, vigorous, alive with enthusiasm, executive efficiency and an optimistic faith shadow over winding ranch in the boys that called forth from them the giving with- out stint of the best of their powers. he was the national executive secretary, a natural leader of boys, born for the job. he, too, shook hands with david in a way that won him. his next remark, though, spread a shadow over david’s enjoyment. “david chisholm from wag- on rest, colorado,” he repeated. “i was raised a colo- rado farm boy myself, you know. aren’t you one of this year’s applicants for the american farmer degree?” “i’m afraid not, sir. i—i’ve no chance at it.” to david’s relief someone summoned the man away abruptly at this point, so that no explanations were nec- essary. neal had to go, too, and once more david was alone in the midst of crowds. it did not matter; his spirit was content. for neal was proud of him; no doubt of that—im- mensely proud. yet neal knew thoroughly the whole situation at home. it was plain he intended to ignore it completely. moreover, there was something both so winning and so dominating about the way neal evi- dently chose to cast the whole matter aside that it buoyed david into something of the same mood. other staunch friends david had. but no one whose faith had quite the quality of neal’s. neal had developed a lot- this time the pride was david’s—since his schoolboy days at home. david moved on through the surging throngs of boys. well over the sea of heads, some magnetic force drew his gaze to a distant corner. he saw instantly what the force had been. two of the wagon rest boys were surrounded by several others, all strangers, to whom shadow over winding ranch were arranged in three sections, with aisles between. behind the backs of every two chairs there was a blue and yellow placard designating a state, the names being arranged in alphabetical order. in these chairs would sit the two delegates from each state chosen to conduct the business of the convention. already boys were walking about, greeting, consulting, chatting, getting acquainted with brother delegates from other states. david settled himself in a seat well toward the front from which he would have a good view of neal dur- ing convention proceedings. like every other future farmer over the land he imderstood the meaning of the arrangements around the delegates’ chairs. small, high platforms were placed at the sides and to the back of the seats for the delegates, each with its chair, its desk and its emblem of the office. all during the convention pro- ceedings the national oflicers would occupy the chairs on these platforms. they would face the main platform where the young national president of the future farm- ers of america would preside for the following five days. on the rostrum of the first vice-president, beside the huge plow that was the oflice’s emblem, the back of neal’s neat blond head would be within clear range of david’s vision. pride stirred through david anew. to be elected to a national office in the future farmers of america was no light honor and it could come to no boy who had not proved himself worthy of it in char- acter, ability, accomplishment and promise. what those character requirements were was made clear to all convention attendants by the immense ban- ners stretched along both sides of the room below the alone in a crowd balcony railing. no true future farmer like david chisholm need look at them to know what was there. on one side of the room the future farmer motto stood out in its ripe corn-yellow lettering against the national blue of its background: learning -to do doing to learn earning to live living to serve the other banner listed the qualities every future farmer of america must possess to be true to his or- ganization’s ideals: leadership cooperation (, -;ara¢i-er f scholarship agriculture a citizenship t/ ,-if- ; f service regreation pa.tr'io' :ism all about david now boys in the blue, yellow- trimmed jackets, with the names and insignia of the states and chapters from which they came stamped on the backs, were seating themselves. many an older man, too, was in their midst: teacher trainers, state super- visors, state directors of the vocational agriculture work, interested farmers, stockyard oflicials, fathers—david was surprised at the number of these older people and the glow of the interest they showed. the future farmers of america, a small and little-known organiza- tion only a few years ago, was evidently winning a shadow over winding ranch widely recognized place for itself among the nation’s friends of agriculture. at last the delegates ceased their friendly or business- like talk in scattered groups and sought their oflicial places. the national oflicers were mounting their ros- trums to take their positions. david’s eyes centered on neal’s tall figure, easy in movement in spite of the hard work neal had done as a farm-raised boy. how good-looking neal was, david thought. better still, how manly and straightforward and fine. no hint of smudge on neal’s character anywhere. emotion and brotherly pride swelled david’s heart to overflowing. deep grati- tude to the future farmer organization went with it. what a man it had helped to make of this youngest son of james chisholm! as he stepped up toward his chair, neal’s glance found david. the blue eyes lighted. over the fair face, far less sunburned now than it used to be in the days at home, spread a glad smile of recognition. he turned his back and settled himself at his post, face to the front. david’s attention followed neal’s. boys on either side of david were speaking. he answered them courteously enough, but scarcely knew what he said. the nineteen- year-old national president of the future farmers of america was mounting the big platform in the company of two older men. the platform’s edge was lined with small flags of the diflerent states. at each end rose a large flag. one, of beautiful silk, was the national flag of the united states. the other was the flag of the future farmers of america. toward the back of the wide main platform there stood another pattern of a alone in a crowd consciousness of self. thus it was that he was so com- pletely unaware of the older men around him who were watching him with penetrating scrutiny. the speech was over. david drew a long sigh and leaned back. “swell, wasn’t it?” the boy at his side asked. david answered with a heartfelt, “you bet.” \i\ hi illllnmvl \ \ _. \,§--‘ \~\,\ ‘ ‘\‘\ \~\§§“ \ \ -:: \‘\ chapter xxiii one of the crovvd at last v.l]:-ins began for david a week so full of interest it was impossible to take advantage of all that was offered. at the stockyards, where the american royal stock show was in progress, the future farmer national stocko judging contests were still going on. they had begun the previous saturday; that was why the other wagon rest boys and alex arkins had not been able to come on the “special.” at the stockyards, too, were to be viewed all the exhibitions of wonderful stock in which the future farmers of america were taking no mean place. in fact it was a steer, lucky boy, entered by a seventeen-year-old future farmer from texas, which one of the crowd at last won the blue ribbon as the grand champion of the en- tire american royal. david had no intention of missing such sights. but they could wait until the other wagon rest boys were less completely taken up with stock show interests. after what had happened that morning in the audi- torium foyer, he had no desire to encounter them again. anyway, because of neal he meant to devote himself chiefly to attendance at convention meetings. thus monday afternoon found him in almost the same seat he had occupied in the morning. a man was on the platform when he came in, talking of the far vision of the future farmer organization and of its international courage. before the speaker had finished david’s eyes were filled with dreams. practical, hard-working farm boy that he was, the romantic highland scotch part of his heritage had always made him capable of long visions. now he was thinking of neal. david had al- ways shared sympathetically neal’s dreams of agricul- tural leadership. but never had those dreams gone be- yond his own united states. now they had gained a more far-reaching vista. - something of this wider vista had already come to him from watching the neat, gracefully trim figures of the two hawaiian lads who occupied their places as delegates on the convention floor. that morning he had seen them place leis around the necks of all the future farmer delegates. but now david’s dreams were reach- ing farther, beyond american territory. perhaps, some day, neal, with his dreams of leadership—— david lost himself in his imaginings. one of the crowd at last the young president was standing on the platform, a paper containing the names of the successful candidates for the degree in his hand. “will the following persons please come to the front of the room and mount to the platform where we can all see them?” “alabama.” he named three boys and the chapters from which they came. “california.” evidently, david thought, there was no american farmer this year from arizona. well, it was a sparsely populated state, with a minimum of agricultural land; more excuse for it than for colorado. “colorado.” david started with surprise. “who—?” he started to think. then he froze into his seat as the name was spoken. “david james chisholm, wagon rest chapter.” a congratulatory grin and nudge from the blue- jacketed boy next to him, to whom he had told his name, somehow got him to his feet. he moved forward in slow uncertainty, almost like an automaton, until some magnetic force drew his glance to the opposite side of the room where alex arkins sat with his sheep judging team. the teacher’s face was beaming. he gave the be- wildered boy a quick nod of assurance across the wide sea of intervening heads. the nod opened the headgates in david’s stream of consciousness. he moved on toward the platform and mounted it naturally and at his usual pace. there was really not any mistake about that an- nouncement then. he was actually to become an ameri- can farmer, after all. shadow over winding ranch wave after wave of relief surged through him as he stood in the group of fine young farmers gathering on the platform. his spirit was lifted up on those waves as if by a life buoy. his head felt a little light, while grati- fication beyond anything he had ever anticipated rose to a song in his heart. the roll call of the states was going on, but he scarcely heard it. nor was he aware of the huge roomful of eyes focused on the group of which he was one. but by the time wyoming’s successful candidates had been called and the ceremonies begun, he had come back to a keener sense of reality. he drank in the words of the ritual and spoke his own initiation vows with sincerity. when the handshakings and congratulations were over and david was once more back in his seat, he knew that the relief and rejoicing within him came from far more than the honor he had won. they came from the knowledge that no longer did the taint of dishonor cling to his name. for had it not been so, the american farmer degree could not have come to him. it was alex arkins’ doing, all right. in some way the teacher who had for so long and so staunchly been his friend must have succeeded in clear- ing the stain from his name. had he known or only hoped he could do it when he had insisted that david attend the convention? no matter now; david would find out about that later. enough that he wore on his coat, pinned there on the platform by neal, of all people, the gold key surmounted by an eagle that was the insignia of an american farmer. it meant more to him, coming now, than any insignia he could ever hope shadow over winding ranch is until we’re all back home again. so please don’t ask anyone for an explanation while we’re in kansas city. if you do, you’ll get me in decidedly bad. everything’s absolutely okay, though. just try to take my word for that and put all your own effort into enjoying yourself.” there was no possible escape from complying with a request like that. nor did david try. he was too happy in the situation as it was. no longer was he a solitary spirit. he was a good fellow among other good fellows who were no longer resentful or critical of him. their pride in him even triumphed over the rather shy aloof- ness they had felt toward him in the past. mut was not with the group on the way to the cafeteria. but when, after filling their trays, they sought out a table where there was just room enough for them, mut suddenly breezed up from somewhere calling out, “here, i be- long with this bunch. shove up, can’t you, and make room for me to pull up a chair?” the boys complied, making a place for mut, as if by common consent, right next to david. as the meal pro- ceeded amid lively chatter, mut made a point of nodding and speaking to numerous other blue-jacketed future farmers coming and going through the cafeteria aisles. david was secretly amused. it was plain mut was proud of being seen in his company. there was more than pride, though, in mut’s bearing. to an even greater degree than david had felt it while they were on the train, there was a secret proprietary triumph, as if some credit for david’s present position was due to mut himself. the meal over, the wagon rest boys took a walk one of the crowd at last around kansas city’s business streets; then trooped back to the auditorium as one loyal and congenial crowd to listen to the five candidates who had won their way to the finals in the national yearly future farmer speaking contest. once again david found mut seated next to him, acting as if he had the proud right to be there. if david’s amusement mounted, with it also went apprecia- tion. for if mut’s attitude was a “little funny,” the generous sincerity of the feeling that prompted it was unmistakable. that winifred’s brother should feel that way toward him, david found highly pleasing. david enjoyed the speaking contest. the eagle- mounted gold key on the lapel of his blue corduroy jacket gave him a feeling of sharing in all that was going on with a completeness he had not known earlier in the day. mut evidently felt the difference in his companion. for the younger boy chatted on about the audience, about the boys he had been meeting, about the speakers on the platform with a friendliness no longer handi- capped by david’s own inner attitude. to a degree, too, mut shared david’s intense sym- pathy with all those five boys on the platform. david knew what they must be feeling, what this occasion must mean to them, how hard they had worked for it. a western boy won first place and the accompanying $ .o award, plus a gold future farmer medal. all received some compensation, though. even the boy rated fifth by the three judges had his fifty-dollar award plus a bronze medal for winning and representing his region. after the contest, neal claimed david and led him shadow over winding ranch off, declaring there were a lot of people around who wanted to meet him. david complied with a shy, pleased grin. neal fairly swelled with pride as he introduced him to one prominent man after another. they shook hands with david cordially, eying him and talking to him with more than casual adult interest. because he was an american farmer, of course. he warmed to their cordiality and became so interested in conversing with them that he completely lost his self-consciousness. most of all he enjoyed talking with the young na- tional president of the future farmers. he certainly liked that modest, friendly, efficient, tactful lad—already an acknowledged leader and bright as they make ’em, by golly. not one touch of “side” about him, either. no wonder he held the delegates of the convention meet- ings in the hollow of his hand. david was sorry when neal interrupted their talk by bringing up an older man for an introduction. the new- comer proved to be an editor or reporter of some sort. for no reason that david could ferret out he invited the wagon rest lad to be his guest at luncheon the next day in one of the city’s finest hotels. there was nothing to do but accept, of course. it would be an interesting experience, but secretly david would far rather have gone to the cafeteria with some of the boys. he did go off to a restaurant that night with neal and a group of his fellow officers. it was fun for david. not that he talked much, but he liked neal’s friends, enjoyed “ganging up” with them. they seemed older, a little more his thinking kind than the kids from home, fine as the wagon rest fellows were. he was happy, shadow over winding ranch sudden passing pang of homesickness. after all, it was that home which had brought him this day. life there, working and developing the place, year after year, into a better ranch and a better place to live had long been the thing in life he had most wanted. but if he had needed anything to convince him of the soundness of that desire, this one happily eventful day in this crowded, noisy, bustling city had done it. his eyelids drooped wearily but he did not fall asleep at once. not excitement but the distracting, unfamiliar noises of the outside street kept him awake. mentally he contrasted the scenes they typified with the peace and quiet of a moonlight night up the draw at home. no rattle and clanging of passing street cars there. no rum- ble of loaded trucks. no humming whirl of continually passing cars. no high-pitched laughter and talk of passers-by, feet tapping noisily over concrete pave- ments. only the peace and beauty of true restfulness, the just reward of the day’s arduous labor in the world of a real—not a city-made-out-of-doors. then deep sleep and an early awakening to the best, because they were the most beautiful, hours of the day—hours that city dwellers never knew, wasting them in sleep and inactivity. only this morning he had noted to his amaze- ment that kansas city was not really stirring to the day until nine o’clock and after; even the main stores had not yet opened their doors. he did not doubt, though, that the noises in the streets would begin to intensify early. there was plenty of early morning noise at home, but how different. the chatter and choruses of birds one of the crowd at last breaking through the clear sweet clean bracing air at sunrise. the crowing of cocks in the chicken yard. the lowing of cattle eager to be fed and milked. the quavery, eager baaing of the awakening karakul lambs, nuzzling their sleepy mothers. the stamping of the work horses in the bam, ready for another day of toil in the great outdoors. trust the animals. they knew far better than any city dweller what part of the day was best for reinvigoration and for work. a long sigh of contentment that it had been his heritage to be born a country boy surged through his stalwart body as it re- laxed at last into healthful sleep. in the arena even for a boy coming from a beef producing state. it must have been that, he thought now as he watched his dapper companion walk away, that had so loosened his tongue. easy, genial, the man had put to david question after question to which courtesy demanded that the boy reply. “what he wanted with a country fellow like me,” he told himself, “is more than i can figure out. and the way he turned me into a regular gab——” david was not at all sure that he liked it. “there isn’t much he doesn’t know about me now from the time i first joined a h club. oh, well,” he dismissed the subject with a philo- sophical grin, “he’s welcome to the knowledge if he has any use for it.” he joined the throng of future farmers passing through the entrance gate. a boy next to him remarked, “being in things down here, we aren’t going to see as much of the program as we could if we were up in the grandstand.” the speaker was a solid, tow-headed boy from south dakota. david agreed with his comment. yet not for worlds would either boy have relinquished his place. as ameri- can farmers it was their privilege to march in the big parade around the entire stockyards arena. this was annual future farmer day at the great american royal stock show. the boys who were not to be in the parade were swarming up into seats given them by the stockyards association as a compliment to the organization. there were more than six thousand of them, their blue jackets with corn-yellow lettering making them stand out among the thousands of other interested spectators in the arena the american farmer group and called, “david james chisholm of colorado.” david stepped forward. beckoning to him, the man placed him at the very forefront of the american farmer line and emphatically bade him stay there. there was no time for a query from mystified david. the same man was repeating his summons to four other american farmers whom he placed directly behind david. they began to mark time with their feet, then slowly to move forward to the music of the band. ]ust ahead of them the national officers were entering the arena. leading them, step firm and steady, was neal, chosen because of his height. david could not see his brother’s face, but he itnew how it looked, alight with feeling. neal’s hands held in their strong, labor-hardened grip the pole of the nationa can flag, fluttering grac a few steps back of n ing the national flag of the other oflicers fol tween them, horizontal future farmers. . organization’s large silk ameri- efully above his uncovered head. 'eal came another tall boy, carry- the future farmers of america. owed two by two, bearing be- ly outspread, the banners of the the american farmers began to follow. the guiding oflicial laid his hand on david’s arm to check their ad- vance until a space of ten or twelve feet had widened be- tween the national oflicers and david. the man released his grip. “now. move forward.” the american farm- ers obeyed, moving two by two in line except for david, who marched alone at their head as he had been bidden. in the arena david stood absolutely still. applause thundered forth from everywhere in that huge pavilion. david scarcely heard it. the man was still talking, outlining, he learned afterwards, his own winding ranch story. now he was too stunned to realize what was being said. then the speaker handed the kansas city star’s check for five hundred dollars to the fine-looking man with the quiet, firm face who was this year’s president of the ameri- can vocational association, asking him to bestow it upon the winner. the man accepted it, added a few in- spiring words of his own, then held the check out toward david. david did not know, himself, just when he moved for- ward. he did it automatically in response to a whisper of, “wake up, brother,” from an oklahoma american farmer directly in back of him. the person who ac- cepted that check was somehow very vividly himself and yet not david james chisholm at all. a voice which in the same way did not seem to belong to him mur- mured a courteous, “thank you.” the handshake of congratulation which accompanied the check was so warmly sincere that the feeling it aroused tingled through him down to his feet. he heard from some- where the question, “have you anything to say?” and the same queer voice that was his and yet did not belong to him at all responded, “only, sir, that as long as i live—i’ll—i’ll do my best—to try to live up to it.” then he was back in his place again among his fellow american farmers. the other awards were being made —two to regional star farmers, two to star farmers of individual states. a few closing remarks by one of the in the arena . . “put it into my place, sir. don’t know just how yet. probably pay off on the mortgage.” the daze was lift- ing. that was his own voice which had replied to the editor. the man looked pleased. “good sense.” his nod seemed to say that it was for such uses his paper liked its awards to go—to help rural boys build for the future. the arena was clearing with remarkable rapidity for the horse show that was to follow. david moved with the crowd, hoping to keep with neal. but already fellow oflicers were calling neal away to attend to some press- ing convention business. then david found himself being claimed by a hand upon his arm and a comforta- bly familiar voice saying in his ear, “the boys would like it if you’d join us, dave. we’ve a fine place to see from and we’ve saved a seat for you.” how like alex arkins, david thought. he sank back into his own plain self at the comfort of those words. sit with the wagon rest boys? you bet he would. that was where he belonged. they meant home to him; he’d cling to them. queer how that twinge of homesickness could go through him so sharply at a moment like this. it was only a flash, of course, gone by the time he had seated himself next to alex arkins. the boys around pressed forward to greet him with heartfelt outbursts of, “bully for you, dave!” “you’ve sure put us on the map.” “gosh, and are we proud of you!” “won’t we wagon rest fellows have to sweat from now on, not to shame you?” david had appreciated all the kindly congratulations that had come his way but none quite warmed his heart - shadow over winding ranch like these from the boys from home. in a way they knew, as no one else could, what he had done. just a good job, to the best of his ability, as everyone should do in life wherever he was put, if he were worth his salt. after all, that was all there was to it. and these fel- lows knew it. david grinned at them in comradely boy fashion. but there was something more that made these con- gratulations such a comfort and that was the knowledge that somehow the burden of accusation against him had been completely removed. just how it had been done he knew he could not yet ask. he was too dazed to try to figure it out for himself. enough for the present to know the relief was there. only one person here could fully sense what that relief must be—alex arkins—and he was sitting next to him. so far mr. arkins had said very little. he did not need to. his face said it for him better than words. “glad you came, dave?” the boy turned to meet the teacher’s smile. “you knew i had a chance. that’s why you made me come.” alex arkins nodded, face alight. “and when we’re home again, you’ll lear n all about it. i promise you that. as for now, everything’s absolutely all right, you know. and always has been. and everybody either does or will know it, too.” it was the last bit of assurance david needed to con- vince him he was not living in a dream. the teacher was talking on, in a tone of quiet amuse- ment, while the boys beyond him were becoming ab- sorbed in the beautiful horses trotting into the arena ‘ v t_~p i»- a, a . i ;.§\-as = ’\ ‘ s ~\ §\ l ‘ *\ w /i’ > ”? 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' yr! |'i chapter xx v. last hours ]i[)av >’s photograph was in all the evening news- papers and even more plentifully in those of the next day. his life story was there, too. he knew now why a newspaperman had taken him to lunch. scenes from the arena program sprinkled the pages of the press: david receiving his five hundred dollar check, the other boys receiving their awards, the massed pavilion crowds. the kansas city star carried a picture of “the chisholm home, known as winding ranch.” neal or alex arkins or perhaps mut must have furnished that. well, it was only fair the paper should have it, if it wanted it, after what the star had done for him. newspaper publicity was only one feature of david’s >o-. ‘p i ' ’ j ' i . {ir j p _/,,.—.gg? -./ . . .@ .e // '\ ~ ' wl _ i paw//~"' ‘ shadow over winding ranch most of these awards were gifts from private and pub- lic sources interested in the development of american agriculture. david knew now better than he had before what it must mean to those boys to have honors come their way. he felt sorry for the boys who had tried hard and missed. among these was the wagon rest sheep judging team; he had gone to the banquet with those boys and expected to sit with them. but scarcely had they settled themselves when he was summoned by an usher to occupy the seat reserved for the star farmer at the speakers’ table, placed at the very forefront of the room, where it faced the long vista of two thousand boys and teachers. david left the home boys with regret. he would have preferred to sit with them rather than in the conspicuous place assigned to him. a fellow like mut lamb might like the spotlight, but personally he would rather be a little more out of it. and this was a kind of spotlight that would abash even mut, he thought, as he obediently took his seat. except for the national president, david was the only active future farmer at that long table. the other oc- cupants were mature men, the speakers of the evening, the organization’s distinguished friends and guests. they included presidents of the railroads who had given the future farmers their low rates, donors of awards, head stockyards oflicials—one and all prominent men of affairs of the american world, who believed in this or- ganization and in the future promise of its work. david soon lost his shyness in his interest in the talk about him. he had been wrong about not wanting this place; it was a privilege to sit among these men and listen to their con- %% \\ / aé,” rfll / l/// i//~///’ v jj////n - ' chapter xxvi the shadow shows its hand ev golly, dave, look at the gang.” the afternoon passenger train was pulling into wagon rest station, and david and mut, suitcases in hand, were leaning out eagerly from a car platform. the station had none of the deserted appearance com- mon to it since the early days of rapidly developing automobile and bus travel. it was as filled with people as if once more the arrival of the daily train had become an outstanding event in the community life. eager groups surged toward the alighting boys as the train slowed to a stop. foremost were the future farm- ers who had not gone to kansas city, and other high school lads. intermingled was a generous number of high the shadow shows its hand school girls. older persons followed in the young peo- ple’s wake: high school teachers, several of the town’s leading citizens, including farmers, businessmen and booster officials. one and all they advanced to meet david, hands extended in congratulation. they almost ignored mut, a fact that he himself seemed not in the least to mind. he stayed at david’s elbow in smug satis- faction, as if the credit for this welcome, which was plainly taking david by surprise, was in some way due to him. “how could they have known about it?” david had muttered. and mut had exulted hastily in his ear, “through mr. arkins’ wire, of course. and the kansas city papers. wasn’t your mug, and you in the spotlight in convention meeting views, blazed all over ’em? mr. arkins and i, you bet, sent every one of those articles home air mail. couldn’t let the home folks wait, could we, until your sweet face and your whole story began to show up in the weeklies?” much of this speech was lost upon david because of welcomers’ demands upon his attention. but mut soon had plenty of other listeners and continued to take ad- vantage of the fact, seeking the spotlight only to direct it toward his companion. if david had no chance to note mut’s attitude, there were those in the crowd who did. to one of these observers it brought a satisfaction far beyond what it could to a more impartial onlooker. she was a person whom david had sighted in the crowd long before he had stepped down from the train, but as yet no words of greeting had passed between : shadow over winding ranch david hesitated. to leave the scene in the abrupt fashion she indicated seemed anything but courteous. but to his relief the surrounding people who had over- heard mrs. herstan’s words showed apparent approval. perhaps the others would agree. his glance traveled over toward winifred in a reluctant uncertainty that mrs. herstan noted. it brought from her one of her deep- throated chuckles. “she’ll have to wait a while. i’m your girl at present. you’re even going to have to take me to the dinner in your honor tonight. alex arkins arranged that. before he left for kansas city.” david tried not to show his mystification at her state- ment. he knew her delight in creating dramatic sur- prises, above all of an unpleasant kind. he was glad, though, he had that kansas city check in his pocket. much as he resented her putting this blight upon the present moment, he would be glad to have the matter of the mortgage payment settled up. just the same, he hoped she was overheating some of the comments that followed them as they turned off into a street leading up- town: “trust maggie not to waste any time getting her clutch on dave’s money.” “so that’s why the old lady joined the welcoming crowd.” she gave no evidence of hearing them, however, and david himself had the feeling that she was trying to hurry him off before he had a chance for real con- versation with anyone among the welcomers. he for- got such notions when he found himself seated beside her before the huge, old-fashioned, roll-top desk in her high-ceilinged sitting room. she had planted her gaunt, large-framed figure in the swivel chair. “well, you’ve the shadow shows its hand done it, she commented, adding with unmistakable satisfaction as she twirled the chair to face the desk, “i always had a sneaking notion you might.” “done what?” david could not resist the question. she laughed; this time her deep-throated chuckle was magnetic. she reached up to the top ledge of her desk for a neat pile of copies-of a popular and widely cir- culated farm magazine. after shufliing the copies out on the desk board, she opened several to pages she had marked. . david saw at a glance what these pages contained. a series of articles he already knew well. they had been written by the national executive secretary of the future farmers of america about the follow-up careers of the boys who, during the organization’s slightly more than a decade of life, had won the yearly star farmer awards. they were inspiring reading to any young farmer, as david had learned. it was no surprise to him that mag- gie should be a subscriber to the magazine. he won- dered, though, if alex arkins might not have called her attention to these particular articles. “at least, you’ve done part of it. a lot of that you owe to me. now, see to it that you do the rest.” “i intend to,” he responded with a note of belliger- ence. why in the world, he asked himself inwardly, did he owe any part of the star farmer award to maggie herstan? hadn’t she always been one of the big stum- bling blocks that had stood in his way? he was not go- ing to give her the satisfaction of asking what she meant, just the same. she had had all the surprise effects she was going to get for the present. he turned at once to the shadow over winding ranch business at hand, and she responded promptly, as if pleased with him for the shift. the matter was soon settled. david understood, far better than he had a year ago, how to handle the situa- tion. again maggie herstan seemed to approve of his behavior. “now,” she concluded, “nothing to do but trot down to john peters, the notary public, and get our signatures certified. it’s after office hours, but he knows we’re com- ing. i saw to that.” so all this haste was a deliberate plan on her part. and alex arkins must have connived in it, directing david straight into maggie’s clutches. perhaps the teacher had felt it best to get the mortgage situation settled while maggie was in a favorable mood. “after that,” maggie continued in her masterful way, “you can come back here and wash up. you’ve your good suit on already. then we’ll pick up winifred and all go to the dinner. i told you before you had to be my escort. it’s more suitable than you think.” she chuckled again as if she were highly pleased with herself. then she stood up and reached for the antiquated hat she had tossed upon a neighboring chair seat when they had first entered the room. but she did not pick the hat up. instead she suddenly sat down again, peremptorily mo- tioning david to do likewise. “no. john peters can wait. ’til morning if necessary. i’ve some things i’ve got to say first.” meanwhile david uttered the bewildered query, “what dinner?” she proceeded to answer. “the one in your honor, a shadow over winding ranch compromised. i agreed that if he’d keep his mouth com- pletely shut until today and see to it that young lamb did too—— by the way, that youngster’s got a lot more guts than i ever used to give him credit for. he sure stood up to me about you good and plenty the night he caught me.” whatever her reference was, the recollec- tion of it renewed her chuckle. “anyway, i promised that i’d confess to you alone beforehand, instead of trying to bowl you over in public tonight at your benefit dinner. i still think it would be a lot more interesting the other way. but i always keep my word. so here oes.” g it did not “go” at once. she sank into a silence that david stubbornly refused to break. instead of resenting his attitude, she appeared delighted with it, as if they two were playing a game she found highly stimulating. “i’m going to tell everybody just what i did to you and exactly how i did it. i’m going to do quite a lot of tongue-lashing, too, on the side—to folks that need it mighty badly. i’ll sure enjoy it. it may do some good to the idle tongue-waggers and spiteful busybodies around here. but it won’t to the worst of them. they’ll go right on saying, ‘that maggie herstan always was a little cracked.’ maybe they aren’t so far wrong at that.” again she chuckled, then queried tartly, “well, don’t you want to hear what it is i’m going to confess? if you don’t, i’ll just keep it for my speech.” then david succumbed. “of course i do,” he re- plied sincerely. “well, then, first of all, i happen to be the water rustler. ’twas me that saved your corn for you.” shadow over winding ranch half, not entirely on her own part, but with the use of others as her agents. she had dropped the hint of the karakul disappear- ance into mut’s receptive ear, and he had acted upon it. at every opportunity she had planted seeds of rumor and jealousy against david’s outstanding successes and helped them to grow and multiply. she had seen to it that he got precious little of praise and publicity, such as this crazy world of today was giving to any silly person who accomplished any feat at all. none of that for young dave chisholm, she had decided. far better to poison his chance for it completely than to let him have it. she had even gone so far as to build up the ac- cusation against him as a water thief, damaging his rep- utation to the point where it seemingly frustrated his long-cherished ambition for eligibility to the ameri- can farmer degree. “that young arkins was the first to be suspicious of me. he couldn’t get anything on me until i was ready to have him. and that wasn’t until last month after the date when your agricultural record had to be in. i told you, i always like things dramatic. well, i got ’em that way, i guess. just in time—i owned up, to young arkins. got him busy at clearing things up for you. and he sure did it—i’ll say that for him—with a vim and a will. he was so mad at me it was good for him; it sure made him hustle.” she leaned back in her swivel chair like a man, and concluded, “well, it all worked.” david gasped. she meant it had worked because of what it had made of him, and he knew it. in the gray eyes he had so long feared, the shrewdness was cast into . .. - ._. _— — . ; . - i -.“__ w_ __ _ _ ' . p‘._. . --n -ml-. . ‘_-.__ - . -i jpn .schm s , schmidt, sarah lindsay shadow over winding ranch jul _, _ _¢“_— ~ _ : o _‘‘o_ p‘ ;‘ : q ‘o ' '’ o _' ‘ ‘o r . ’h”!!o o q :. o _ o ’ _: " ‘ i.‘ "qo.‘ o ~ < ’_. * o ' ‘hr ‘ ’:o ‘_.'. ‘_ . ‘ to ‘ o q _ '‘’ ro ._ ' . 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' -" ._,o'.~o ‘u x. . . _‘‘ _._. . _. ‘? ‘: _‘_o '_ ‘ z‘ c‘ ‘ooc'o_ _o__.’ o o o' o. o ._,. : "o. rt~ _.t’ ' .‘‘ o. : w___‘c o ju rf ~v ..f ' _ _ f? ‘ ._“ ."; c _o'. o . q‘o.”rr u "p o.; ‘p' 'go. l " -'._ . o ‘o o ‘ _:‘ _._‘ o- ‘oo. _ d‘ . o‘_,‘. _. ._o ._.o‘ m. ’_§r‘> o o ’__ v "f; -r v‘_ ' _ .aj m. wm _ _ p ‘i i i x b f r i | f i i donated by the grand rap ds pubhc library the may g qmgley collectwn of chrldren s lrterature december the umversltv of mlchlgan dearborn mardxglan llbrary _ _ _ _ _ _ “and win he did." boy ranchers on roaring river. page . _ _ the bov ranchers om roaring river on diamond x and the chinese smugglers by willard f. baker author of “the boy ranchers," “the boy ranchers in cong,” “the boy ranchers at spur creek,” ‘ he boy ranchers in the desert,” etc. ill ustra ted new york cupples & leon company _ _ the boy ranchers series _ by willard f. baker mo. cloth. frontispicce _ the boy ranchers or solving the mystery at diamond x the boy ranchers in camp or the water fight at diamond x the boy ranchers on the trail or diamond x after cattle rustlers the boy ranchers among the indians or diamond x trailing the yaquis the boy ranchers at spur creek or diamond x fighting the sheep herders the boy ranchers in the desert or diamond x and the lost mine the boy ranchers on roaring river or diamond x and the chinese smugglers other volumes in preparation _ _ cupples : leon company, new york _ covvmonr, , by commas & leon com>/my _ the boy ranchers on romuno rxvm printed in u. s. a. _ cqntents onnnn s<§ge:-- |-| a dangerous mission . . . . . . . a strange disappearaiwe. . . a suspicious visitor . . . . . . . . the hidden gunman . . . . . . . . arrival at the ranch . . . . . . . the threat . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii a sheepless sheep ranch. . . viii cyclone . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . delton returns . . . . . . . . . . . . bud fmns a note . . . . . . . . . . . j e hawrii~is’s visit. . . . . - qeesnmfj trapped . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . to-m rr w night .. - billee doer’s story. . . . . . . . . xvi bud ’s escape . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xvii a night of waiting . . . . . . . . . xviii smuggling operations . . . . . . the story or smuggling. . . .o . page contents chapter xix xx xxi xxii xxiii xxiv xxv page the chase . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . down and out . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . closing in . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . flying bullets . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . a ring of fire . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . tm: rattling buckboard . . . . . . . _ym.lm’ km fmds his bnonc . . . . the boy ranchers on roaring river chapter i a dangerous mission “ old up there, you pint ’ peanuts! h hold up, i say! well, for the love of spread eagle! i suppose you boys are lookin’ for a job; eh?” the speaker, a typical, raw-boned cowboy, looked down from his pony at three boys seated on a bench at the side of the cook-house. “whether we are or not, we ’ve got it, kid,” answered one of the seated trio, a well set-up youth with light hair. “and the funny part of it is, we don’t know what the job is.” “huh! got a job and you don ’t know what it is? well, nort, guess i’ll have to look into this,” and the cowboy whom nort addressed as “kid”—or, to give him his full nick-name, “yellin’ kid”—swung' lightly from his saddle. “hold up there, you pony, you!” this as the kid’s mount started to prance about wildly. “just got this here dust-raiser, and she ain’t a dangerous mission _ xo___v_ ‘ ew p " ' ' ' -__g—_~__'_-_‘_-_-o—~ o- :;.:o;.::_'=\i¢o;._-.o- _ well, we sent four of our men to ride ’em in. i went along with ’em. we started about sun-up, calculatin’ to reach the double-o before night, and everything was lovely. ’long about noon we reached the gorge near galgo. i suggested we ride the cattle as far from the gorge as we could get, ’cause i know how easy a herd of long-horns are started. but no, nothin’ would do sam holiday but going as near to the big cut as possible, to save time. sa.m’s our new foreman, you know, and i didn’t want to assert myself over him. so we drove ’em close to the edge. i told sam once or twice to keep away- bnt oh, no! everything would be all right, and we’d have the cattle in by five o’clock. well, we had ’em in by five o’clock all right. but not at the double-o! “just as we were passing the deepest part of the cut we heard a most awful bang! and i knew in a minute what it was. stump-blasting. yes, i knew what it was—but the cattle didn't. and nobody had time to tell them, either. the steers on the extreme right made a sudden lunge——and in three minutes it was all over. nothin’ left but an old cow who broke her leg in the first rush. and the rest—every blessed one of ’em—two hundred feet down, lyin’ dead or dyin’ in the bottom of the gorge ! ” the kid was the first to break in on the mo- rose stillness dick ’s speech had invoked. “well now, say, boys, that ’s right sorrowful -o boy ranchers on roaring river _ —yes, sir, that ’s what i call right sorrowful! i sure am sorry for you-all! a whole herd of cattle gone to the dogs! well, well—that’s sad. say, is there anything i can do t —you know, sort of help out—like, well, maybe——” “no thanks, kid,” spoke up dick quickly. his glance told the kid that he realized what the half-spoken offer meant. in the west one man understands his friend more by feeling than by words. “real good of you to ofi'er, though. no, i guess we’ll make out all right. can’t have easy riding all the time. i imagine mr. merkel has something for us to do. he sent for us to come over to his ranch. so here we are. that was the job i told you about.” “a blind job, hey? well, i guess it’s o. k. or the boss wouldn ’t be mixed up in it. anyway, here ’s your chance to find out. here comes mr. merkel now.” a tall, pleasant-faced man, hair slightly grayed at the temples, strode out of the ranch- house toward the four waiting cowboys. his resemblance to bud—especially around the eyes —was easily noticeable. “hello, nort and dick! how are you, son? say, boy, you’re getting hard as a rock! what have you men been feeding bud—leather? he sure l oks- as though it was coming through!” the kindly eyes of the older man lighted with pride as he grasped the hand of his son. “no, dad—i guess hard luck toughened me a dangerous mission _ _ up,” said bud, but his smile belied the meaning of his words. “yes, i heard about your accident, boys—and that ’s partly why i sent for you. i thought you might have time to do a little business for me.” “well, i guess i’ll step along, mr. merkel,” the kid said, as he realized he might be intrud- ing on a private conversation. “i got that fence fixed up all right.” “did you? good! no, kid, you stay right here. you’re in on this too. where’s billee dobbi i want him to hear what i have to say.” “he ’s ’round back, boss. i’ll get him.” “bring him in the house, kid. my room. come on, boys—we’ll get settled inside and wait for the kid and billee.” as the boys followed mr. merkel each one wondered what it was all about. dick voiced the thought of all as he whispered: “say, what’s up? you know, bud?” “nope! i’m as much in the dark as you are. dad never said anything to me. we’ll soon know, though.” by this time they had reached the ranch- house. as soon as the kid arrived with old billee dobb—a grizzled product of ranching who had been with the diamond x from its start—mr. merkel motioned them to be seated and began: “i reckon the first thing you men want to know is the reason for this gathering. well, it ’s i boy ranchers on roaring river -_ _ nothing very mysterious. i bought a sheep ranch out near roaring river, and i want you five to take hold of it for me. now—just a minute. i know what you ’re going to say, kid —that sheep nursing is no job for a cowman. but you haven ’t heard the rest of it. there ’s been some very funny things happening out near that ranch. i’ve had a letter from the government ofiicial over at candelaria asking whether i intend to manage those sheep, myself, and if i do would i let him know before i take charge. now, i’m not going to say just what is the trouble, as i’m not actually sure myself. but i have a hunch. and that ’s the reason i want you five—men i can trust—to take charge there. will you?” his listeners looked at each other. in the eyes of each—with the possible exception of old billee dobb—the light of adventure was shining. whatever scruples the kid had about “sheep nursing” had vanished with the word “trou- ble.” and he was the first to speak: “sure we will! what do you say, boys? do we go out? how about it, dick and nort? what do you say, bud? billee here is just achin’ for the experience!” and the kid laughed, for billee d bb’s tendency to pretend displeasure at every change of conditions was well known. “yes i am—not! like as not we’ll all get shot full of holes. but if you fellers want to a dangerous mission go—guess i’ll have to trail along to take care of you-all!” “listen to him—just try to hold him back if there ’s any shootin’ goin’ on!” “then i take it you ’ll go?" mr. merkel asked. “yes, dad—i’m sure we ’ll all be glad to take charge out there for you,” answered bud. “i don’t suppose you could tell us any more about this government business now?” “i’m afraid not, son—i want to be sure of my ground before i make any statements. well, i guess that ’s settled. you ’ll leave to-morrow.” since this was the last night the kid and old billee were to spend on the diamond x, it seemed fitting to the rest of the boys that there should be some sort of an entertainment. an entertainment to a cowboy means principally music—so after supper the boys gathered around a roaring log fire and sang themselves hoarse. after slim degnan, the foreman, and fat milton, his chubby assistant, had rendered their duet, and snake purdee had given his famous imitation of a prima donna singing “bury me not,” bud, with nort and dick, decided to take a stroll about the place to see if anything had changed. their own particular ranch was several miles removed from diamond x, owned by mr. merkel. “see your dad got a new building up,” ob- served dick, as they came to a newly-painted shack, clearly visible in the bright moonlight. _ a dangerous mission _ grammatically. “no use hanging around here any longer. we’ve got to get started early in the morning, and it might be a good idea to get in a little bunk-fatigue. let ’s hit the hay, boys !” and wondering and speculating on the meaning of what they had seen and heard, the three went to bed. the next day dawned clear and cool, and the boys arose with the sun. on their way down to breakfast they met the yellin’ kid. he was evidently the bearer of startling tidings, as his face was more flushed than usual, and his eyes were shining with excitement. “heard the news?” he burst out. then, without waiting for an answer, he went on: “the marshal at roaring river has been shot by a gang of chink smugglers! they captured one, but the rest got away with an auto load of chinks! roaring river, boys—that’s where we’re going!” chink smugglers! that conversation in the new bunk house last night—in a flash it all came back to the boys. “say, dick, i’ll bet that ’s what we heard the mex talking about!" cried bud. onsrrna ii , a strange disappeabanoi ellin’ kid looked at bud in surprise. i “you heard someone talkin’ about this here shootin’, bud?” he asked. “not exactly about the shooting of the mar- shal, but last night nort and dick and myself were wandering down by the new shack that dad put up, and inside two men were talking— one of them was a mexican. we heard this mex say something about getting some money for the delivery of chinks. that sure means smug- gling, doesn’t it?” “that’s what it means all right. couldn’t you see who the two men were “i ” the kid wanted to know. “we tried to, but they got away,” said dick. “we went in the front door and they ran out the back.” “aw say, do you know what i think, fellows? i’ll bet what we heard was just some rancher asking a friend to send him a chinese cook,” suggested nort, with a faint grin. “cook, hey? why did they sneak in a deserted bunk house to talk about a cook? and a strange disappearance _ _ how about that remark of ‘double crossin’ ’ and what did they run for! why?” demanded dick. “oh, all right—all right!” cried nort, who was now grinning widely. “have it your own way, dick. it was probably a great mexican plot to send a million chinese to this country and form an army to capture texas. and after they captured texas they’d set up a kingdom and the king would have snake purdee sing ‘bury me not’ for him every morning before breakfast.” “you can jolly all you like, nort—just the same, i’m willing to lay odds that we see some excitement when we reach roaring river. let ’s go, boys—that bacon will be frozen by the time we get to breakfast.” and dick led the way toward the dining room. although they were cautioned several times by “ma” merkel to eat more slowly, the boys hurried through the meal. each of them was “rarin’ to go,” as kid expressed it, and linger- ing over the ordinary occupation of eating seemed a waste of time. within an hour the five——bud merkel, nort and dick shannon, yellin’ kid and old billee dobb—were stand- ing by their ponies, ready to spring to the saddles and be off. there was a sudden cloud of dust as the five urged their mounts into a gallop. with one last yell to those watching, they streaked across the boy ranchers on roaring river _ ground in a typical “cowboy start.” within two minutes they were lost to view behind a ridge. now for a moment let us leave them while we learn something of their earlier adventures. the three boys, bud merkel, and his eastern cousins nort and dick shannon, were intro- duced to you in the first book of this series, called “the boy ranchers; or solving the mystery at diamond x.” in that book was re- lated how nort and dick shannon went on their vacations to the diamond x ranch, owned by mr. merkel, bud’s father. while there they were confronted with a strange situation, re- garding the searchings of a college scientist, d. hendryx \vright, who was discovered digging near the diamond x holdings. at first it was thought that he was looking for a lost gold mine, but later developments brought to light the fact that his purpose was to unearth the bones of a prehistoric monster for his college museum. the adventures of the boys while on the ranch were also concerned with del pinzo, a villainous half-breed, who nearly succeeded in bringing the career of all to a sudden close. after successfully overcoming all their diflicul- ties, nort and dick decided to form a partner- ship with their cousin bud, and they located on a ranch in “ happy valley” which bud ’s father bought for them. - a strange disappearance _ in the several volumes following was related how the boy ranchers went to camp, and how they took the trail, and the exciting times they had in rounding up a band of yaqui indians who had escaped from their reservation and were raising havoc with the neighboring terri- tory. following this the boys went to spur creek, where they had many startling adven- tures among the sheep herders. the book immediately preceding this present one is called “the boy ranchers in the desert,” and tells of the difiiculties they had in their search for some lost gold. after the first wild dash, the five travelers pulled their ponies into that long loping stride which carries the cowboy for days and days over many miles. bud and dick were in the lead, with nort and kid and old billee dobb following close behind. “say, kid,” bud called back, after a while, “what would you do if you saw a smuggler come along now with a herd of chinks with him? ” “tell you what i'd do, bud,” yellin’ kid replied, “i’d stop the chinks and find out what happened to a shirt i sent out to be washed the last time i was in dallas !” “you mean that shirt with the yellow dots on, kid?” dick asked with a grin. “if that ’s the one, i can tell you what became of it. they thought it was an oil painting that got in the a strange disappearance “all right. tell you what—we ' l start from here, and the last man there has to kiss a sheep!” “right! all set? ready—go!” ‘ ‘ ye-e-e-ow ! ’ ’ “yip-yip-yip-yipee- !" “ride ’em cowboy!” “leggo that leather!” ‘ ‘ gangway—gangway ! ’ ’ the five riders flashed over the ground almost on a line. kid’s mount was running easily, head well up. dick pulled a little ahead. nort just touched his pony with the spurs, and in a moment he was even with dick. there was a sudden rush behind them—and old billee dobb, hat fanning his pony’s withers, hair streaming in the wind, streaked to the front! “look at the old boy go!” “stay at it, billee—stay at it!" “two bits he wins!” and win he did. he reached the bush a full length ahead of the others, who were laughing so hard they could hardly stay on their horses. the spectacle of the gaunt, elderly man sitting straight up in the saddle, teeth clenched and bowed legs wrapped around his pony, was too much for them. they leaned on their pommels weakly and roared with laughter. “atta boy, billee!” “golly—did you see the old boy streak it out!” ' _ f boy ranchers on roaring river _ “oh, cracky! hold me up, somebody, or i’ll fall off !” “now—who’s gettin’—old!” panted billee. “beat me, hey‘? not in—a million years!” “what do you say, boys-—-we give billee a salute!” four guns flashed out of the holsters and were raised aloft. ((bang! ! they roared as one. “sure sounds like a celebration,” chuckled nort as he blew the few remaining grains of burnt powder from his smoking barrel, and replaced the gun. “billee, accept my congratu- lations!” “granted, youngster—if that ’s what i’m supposed to say,” billee retorted, his eyes twinkling. “and just remember—a man's not old out here until he can’t ride no more.” “you look as though you might be good for several hundred yearsvyet, if that ’s the case,” laughed dick. “anyway, you sure showed me a few things. say, that race made me pretty thirsty. is there a water hole near here, kid, or shall i use my canteen?” “save it—i think i can find water for you. guess the ponies could use a little too. let’s see now—’pears to me there should be a water hole right over here to the left. you boys stay here while i go look. be back in a jifiy.” leaving the four on the trail, yellin’ kid a strange disappearance _ rode swiftly away to the left. water holes are few and far between in that section, and a cow- boy who rides a country a great deal knows the location of every single one. often that knowl- edge means the saving of a human life. the kid had been gone ten minutes when bud said: “thought yellin’ kid said he ’d be right back! i guess he’s all right though. he knows the country about here pretty well, doesn't he, billee?” “like the palm of his hand, bud—like the palm of his hand! but maybe his pony broke his leg in a prairie dog hole—seein’ as how it ’s a new pony, he might do that. tell you~—-i ' just have a look. you fellows wait here for me.” the three boys watched billee ride ofi in the direction the kid had taken. it was a deserted, lonesome place. fifteen minutes later billee rode back—alone. “the kid show up yet?” he asked as he pulled up. “no—-couldn’t you find him?” dick asked, a look of anxiety on his face. “nope! neither hide nor hair! something sure must have happened. the kid isn’t one to go wanderin’ ofi and get lost. i’m afraid he ’s in trouble, boys!” chapter hi a suspicious visrron i ‘ '\he three looked at each other in alarm. “golly, i never thought anything could happen to the kid,” bud said slowly. “he was brought up in this country, and always said he could find his way about blindfolded.” “perhaps the water hole was farther away than he thought,” suggested nort hopefully. “it ’s easy for any man to go astray on a matter of distance, you know.” “well, maybe—but i doubt it. vvhat i think happened is that his pony stumbled into a hole and lamed hisself. well—we’ll have to go look- ing for him, that’s all. nort, you and dick branch out here to the right. bud, you take the left trail. i'll try straight ahead. now re- member your trails, boys—we don’t want no more accidents to happen. we ’ll all meet here in one hour. if anything happens, fire three shots. git along there!” and billee dobb, together with the rest set out to find yellin’ kid who was so mysteriously and unaccountably lost. in a suspicious visitor _ nort, who was riding with dick, was the first to pick up a possible clew. “looks as though someone passed here in a hurry,” he said as he pointed to a newly beaten path through some heavy brush. “now if i was just going along easy like i’d have ridden ’round that bush. the pony that went through there got a few scratches.” _ “wonder if it could have been the kid?” nort mused. “though why he should be in such an all-fired hurry i can ’t understand. un- less he was chasing someone. “or being chased,” dick added. “perhaps he met a smuggler, dick.” “smuggler—’way up here? not a chance! say, n ort, you’ve got smugglers on the brain. you seem to think they ride around with big signs pinned on them—‘ i am a smuggler- shoot me ’ suppose the kid did meet a. smuggler—how’d he know him from any other man?” “that’s right-—guess he wouldn’t,” admit- ted nort, a trifle shamefacedly. “but you know what he told us about that marshal being shot. ” “oh, yes, but marshals get shot nearly every day, somewhere—and maybe it wasn’t a chink smuggler that shot him after all—maybe it was just an ordinary gang of rustlcrs.” “well, you can say what you like, dick, but '[’ll lay odds we see some excitement when we reach roaring river.” boy ranchers on roaring river _ “we’ll see some excitement sooner than that, if we don’t find the kid. see here—if he made this trail, he was going fast—and in this direc- tion. let’s get on our way.” “better go back, do you think?” nort asked as he looked up toward the sun. “we ’ve been gone at least an hour, and billee said to return within that time.” “yes,” dick responded, a little sadly, for he and yellin’ kid were close friends. “i sure hope the kid ’s all right. perhaps some of the others picked him up.” “perhaps. let’s hope so. at any rate, we haven ’t had much success—and i doubt even that the torn brush we saw was done by the kid.” “can’t tell, he may have ridden through there and then taken a sudden turn to the right or left. or back again, for that matter. well, let ’s get started. ” as the two arrived at the agreed meeting place there was no need to ask the others if they had had any luck. the kid was nowhere in sight. “we saw a trail through some bushes that might have been made by the kid, billee,” said n ort to the old rancher. “yes, and it might have been made by any number of other things, too,” billee declared, in a despondent tone. “not that i am sure it wasn’t the kid ’s trail. it might have been- a suspicious visitor _ but that doesn’t help us much. n o, i guess the only thing for us to do is to go right on lookin’ —-and hopin’ he ’s o. k.” it was almost dusk when the four gathered together again. the kid was still missing, and anxiety was written on the faces of all as they prepared to camp for the night. each man carried a blanket with him, and also a small snack of food and a canteen of water. as dark- ness settled down a fire was started, and hud- dled in their blankets the boy ranchers prepared to make the best of it. the silence of the night hung close over the four blanketed figures. the firelight threw weird shadows about them, but above the stars shone calmly on, quietly reassuring. a light breeze rustled softly through the mesquite bushes. now and then a coyote yowled in the distance. suddenly bud jerked upright. he nudged dick, who was lying beside him. “dick!” he whispered, so as not to disturb the others, “do you hear anything?” “eh? \vhat? what’s that? you speak to me?” dick muttered sleepily. “listen! can ’t you hear a noise like a horse walking?” dick sat up, now wide awake. “say, i believe i do! wait a minute——” and he tossed some wood on the fire-“let's have a look!” boy ranchers on roaring river _ “kid?” bud called hopefully. the approaching pony gave a sudden leap forward. “yea boy!” yelled its rider. “home again!” “it is the kid!” dick cried exultingly. “nort! billee! the kid_o’s back!” in a moment yellin’ kid was surrounded by the four who shot questions at him as fast as they could talk. “where in the name of the spread eagle have you been!” ‘ ‘what happened?” “did you get lost?” “are you all right?” “hey, hey! not so fast! gimme time! wait ’til i get down off this here pony. oh, baby—that feels good. ” and the kid stretched long and high. “what a ride! say—got any- thing to eat?” “sure! sink your teeth in this,” billee said, handing him a cold beef sandwich from his kit. “and here’s some water. are you all right, kid?” “me! sure! except tired and hungry. been ridin’ most of the day an’ night. s’pose you-all would like to know what it ’s all about, hey?” “well, if you haven ’t anything to do at pres- ent, you might let us in on the secret. we looked all over texas for you,” dick said, a suspicious visitor _ grinning, happy now, that their lost comrade had returned. “just a second while i put this little paint pony of mine over with the others. old boy— you sure had some journey to-day!” and the kid rubbed the horse’s nose. “stood up well, too. to-morrow i'll give you a big feed—what you need now is rest—like me. well, boys, guess i’ll turn in.” “you’ll what?” “you will not—not until we hear what happened!” “he ’ll turn in—well for the love of pete!” “all right boys—all right!” the kid laughed. “seems you want to hear something about my trip, hey? well, to start from the beginning, the day dawned clear an’ bright. the wind was ticklin’ my ears as i rode——” “cut it out!” “let’s have the story, you locoed dust- raiser!” “all right, we’ll cut the kiddin’. tell you what really happened. i found the water hole where i thought it would be, and i found some- thing else, too. there was a horse standin’ near it, and by the side of the horse was a chink —on his hands an’ knees, crawlin’ around on the ground. thinks i, here ’s a crazy man. so i rides up slow, and when i got up close i asks the chink what he ’s lookin’ for. he don ’t pay no attention to me whatever. i gets ofi my boy ranchers on roaring river _ horse and says it again. then the crazy chink looks up at me and says “chock gee.” that’s all. just “chock gee.” me, not knowin’ chinese, i can’t tell what he ’s after. but i see it won’t do no good to insist on knowin’ so i starts to help him up, thinking maybe he’s hurt. soon as i touched him, what does the crazy chink do but jump like a cat for his saddle, give my paint a terrible crack with his quirt, and set ofi like a scared rabbit, my pony after him, leavin’ me stranded, high an’ dry!” the kid looked at his eager listeners and grinned. “that new pony of mine—she’s sure got some speed. she was out of sight in two seconds. an’ then, boys—i had to depend on the ole legs! so i went huntin’ for her. caught her about four miles from where her an’ me parted company. then i went huntin’ for you- all, but you was nowheres to be found. and from then ’til now, i was ridin’ around, lookin’ for you.” “and the chink—what happened to him? ’ ’ “blessed if i know! but if i ever see him again i’ll give him something to remember me ‘by_” “ so that ’s where you were all that time! we thought you ’d been blown to dallas on a cycloneo anyway, we’re glad you ’re back. reckon you could stand a little sleep, eh?” bud said. “you bet. i’ll sling my blanket down by you, _ a suspicious visitor _ dick, and we ’ll get started for roarin’ river as early as possible. it's still a good ways ahead. good night, boys!” “hey, you men!” from the darkness came a sudden voice. all five turned swiftly, five hands reaching for re- volvers together. into the firelight rode a tall horseman. “hey, boys!” he called again. “any of you see a chink wanderin’ around here?" chapter iv the hidden gunman “ ho wants to know?” the kid asked, staring hard at the mounted visitor, his hand firm on the butt of his gun. “now, boys, take it easy—take it easy! i’ve got good reason’s for wantin’ to know, which same i’]l explain if you give me a chance. if you don’t mind i think i’ll park here for the time bein’.” and he dismounted and came closer. by the light of the fire the ranchers saw a tall, rangy cowboy of about forty. two deep- set eyes above a hooked nose gave him a hard- ened, desert look which his manner emphasized. he was, evidently, one to whom life had proved anything but a pink tea party. yet, withal, he had something about him which seemed to inspire trust. “well, stranger, you’re welcome, but we haven ’t much to offer,” bud said. “we weren’t expecting to camp to-night, and we ’re some- what shy on provisions. but i guess we can rustle up something for you.” “no need of that—no need of that at all,” the hidden gunman ' _ the stranger heartily assured them. “all i want is a little information. guess i'd better introduce myself first. i’m joe hawkins, spe- cial deputy over at roaring river.” the others exchanged glances in the dim light of the fire as the visitor continued: “here’s my badge. don ’t know whether you heard about the trouble we had, but if you didi_ ’t, i’ll tell you. roaring river is right on the mexican border, you know, and there ’s been a lot of chink smugglin’ goin’ on, with roaring river as the key to the whole smugglin’ situ- ation, so to speak. we don’t know who ’s the boss of these smugglers, but we’d give a lot to find out. two thousand dollars, to be exact. “well, anyway, two days ago we had a tip that a car-load of chinese was about to be rushed over the border just outside of town limits. so we got all set. sheriff townley and me and three other deputies hid in the bushes where we thought the car was goin’ to pass. but we lost out. “the car came by all right—and we hopped into the roadway to stop them. they never stopped a-tall. goin’ like a crazy steer they flew by on two wheels, lettin’ ride with every gun they had. got poor townley good. we buried him yesterday. so—now you know what it ’s all about.” “and the car—did you see it again?” dick asked excitedly. boy ranchers on roaring river _ “no-—-but last night a chink came to town and got oiled-up on pulque, and said a few things more than he meant to. when i jumped him he lit out for the open spaces. this morning i thought i’d take a look around, and see if i could spot him. sure enough i did, but the old yellow-skin got away before i could reach him. i don ’t suppose you boys saw anything of him? ” “well now, that’s mighty strange,” drawled the kid. “it so happens that i did see your man—at least i’ll take odds that he was the one you ’re after. this afternoon i was trapin’ around for that water hole over yonder about three miles—you know the one,” and the kid told of his adventure with the “crazy chink.” “ that ’s him, for all the money in the world!” the deputy exclaimed. “lookin’ for a ‘chock gee’ was he? i ’ll chock gee him if i catch him.” “say, what’s all this about a ‘chock gee"l” n ort wanted to know. “well, it ’s a government immigration ofice paper every chink in this country is supposed to have, showin’ they ’re here legitimately. those that haven’t got ’em try to get one from an- other chink, and there ’s unlawful trading goin’ on all the time. ” “like a passport, eh?” billee dobb sug- gested. “something like that. where you men bound for—if you don ’t mind me askin ’?” “to a ranch just outside of roaring river,” the hidden gunman _ spoke up bud. “my father, over at diamond x, bought it, and we ’re going to take charge.” “your father mr. merkel?” joe hawkins asked suddenly, with new interest. “yes—do you know him?” “not exactly. but i know of him. when i heard that the shootin’ star was changin ’ hands i wrote to mack caffery, the boy on the job over at candelaria, askin’ him to get in touch with the new owner. that’s how i got the name merkel. did your dad hear from him, do you know?” “yes, he did. so that’s what dad meant when he said there might be trouble, eh? well —we’re ready for whatever comes. what do you say, boys?” “right!” the others chorused. “say, mister, what was that there you said about two thousand dollars?” billee dobb broke in. “there ’s two thousand dollars’ reward, offered by the government, for the capture, dead or alive, of the head of the chink smug- glers,” the deputy said impressively. “two thousand bucks! say, boys, with that you could buy yourself a new herd of cattle, to make up somewhat for the bunch you lost!” cried yellin’ kid. “we sure could—and then some,” bud agreed. “but i guess there ’s not much chance of us collecting the reward. .we’ll be busy the hidden gunman _ so far from the water hole. why? you anxious to begin sheep herdin’ ” “not exactly,” bud laughed. “but i do want to see what the place looks like. hope we don ’t have to do much repairing.” “no, the shooting star in in pretty fair shape,” joe hawkins said. “your father got a good buy—if you can get hold of it all right.” “what do you mean, get hold of it all right! ” asked bud curiously. “well, the feller that’s got it now isn’t ex- actly a pleasant customer. there’s something queer about him—we’ve been watchin’ the shooting star for over a month now. i couldn’t say for sure that there ’s anything wrong—but it looks suspicious. that’s the reason i wanted to have the government oflicial find out who the new owner was going to be. i’m right glad i met up with you boys. you may be able to help me out some time.” “and collect that reward,” billee dobb put in. his mind seemed set on the two thousand dollars the deputy had spoken of. “you might,” admitted hawkins. ‘ ‘it ’s waiting for the person who brings in the head of the smuggling system.” “well, we ’ll do our best,” the kid said, with a side glance at bud. “say, kid, we ’re not down here to capture smugglers!” cried bud. “we’ve got to take boy ranchers on roaring river _ _ charge of the shooting star. of course, if we do happen to run across?” “i knew that would get a rise out of you!” laughed the kid. “catch bud duokin’ any excitement! why, even billee here wants to trail the smugglers—don’t you, billee?” “never you mind!” came back the old rancher. “want another race?” “ ’at-ta-boy, billee!” nort yelled. “guess that ’ll hold him! you didn’t know billee dobb was a champion racer, did you?” nort said to hawkins. “i didn’t, no,” responded the deputy with a smile. “but i believe it. takes old birds like us to show these youngsters up, eh, billee?” “sure does!” “well, here we are,” declared the kid, as they came in sight of the water hole. right down there is where i saw the chink on his hands and knees. hey, take it easy there!” this to his pony, who strained toward the water. “i know you ’re thirsty, but so are the others. easy—easy ! ” the kid dismounted and led the panting horse toward the water. leaning over he filled his hat, and held it to the mouth of his pony. “start in on that. ‘slow! or you don ’t get any. ’at-ta-boy. here’s another hatful for you. feel as though you can control yourself now? all right—go to it!” by this time the intelligent animal got the idea, and drank in small mouthfuls. the other ponies, restrained the hidden gunman _ by their masters from drinking too fast, did the same. “so it was here that you saw the chink, eh? ” asked joe hawkins. “yep—right in this spot. he was leanin’ over here by this little bush, lookin’ for—” the kid stopped suddenly and picked up something from the ground. it was a folded paper. the kid looked it over swiftly. “lookin’ for—this!” he exclaimed, holding it out. “what is it?” “let ’s have a look ! ” the deputy walked over to the kid. “mind if i see it?” he said quietly. without a word the kid handed it over. he recognized the fact that it was the deputy ’s right to demand it. “that’s what the chink was looking for,” hawkins declared after a moment. “see here! this paper-—” “bang! bang!” “duck !’ ’ cried the kid. his hand reached for his gun as he hit the ground. ubang!” billee’s hat went sailing from his head. “he means business!” dick yelled. “down, everybody!" _ i chapter v arrival at ran ranch nother report rang out, and a bullet a went singing overhead. by this time guns were out ready for action. from behind a small knoll, about one hundred and fifty yards away, hazy smoke could be seen arising. “dick, you stay here and keep me covered,” said the kid in a low voice. the boys were all hugging the ground in the shelter of the brush. “i’m goin’ to sneak around an’ see if i can’t connect with the onery skunk that’s doin’ the shootin’.” “take it easy, kid,” dick cautioned. “you can ’t tell how many men there are over there.” “right! now you pass the word to the others to keep that hill peppered with lead. as soon as you see a sign of life, let ride. if you can keep whoever’s doin’ all this out of sight, i’ll have a chance. so long!” yellin’ kid had started. with a simple “so long’ ’ he was off on a mission which might—and very likely would—end in his death. men who spend their lives on the prairies have no time arrival at the ranch _ for heroics. they do their job—a.nd say nothing. slowly the kid crept forward. the hidden gunman seemed to be withholding his fire. in the brush by the water hole lay the five watching men—billee dobb and joe hawkins with long- barreled colts ready for action, dick, nort and bud squinting along the barrels of their shorter guns. closer, closer, the kid crawled. seventy- five yards! seventy! now, kid—now “well, by the ghost of my aunt lizzie ’s cat !” the kid was standing upright, his mouth open, his gun hanging loosely by his side. not a soul was in sight! a quick look about verified this. the country beyond the knoll was perfectly fiat, and for over five hundred yards was bare of even the smallest bush. whoever the mysterious shooter was, he had, apparently, vanished into thin air. “hey, you guys, come over here!” yelled the kid. “we been blazed at by a ghost!” one by one the men by the water hole got to their feet. dick was the first to reach the kid ’s side. “he ’s right, boys!” called back dick, as he saw the empty space behind the little hill. “no- body here. but let ’s have a look at the ground. we can tell if it ’s been disturbed, anyway.” a careful search revealed not only the traces of someone having lain down on the loose earth, but also two empty shells. _ boy ranchers on roaring river _ “that makes me feel a little better!” cried the kid as he saw this. “i don ’t hanker to be shot at by someone i can’t see. now the thing to do is to find out what happened to our late playmate. ’ ’ “he’s gone, ain’t he?” asked billee dobb incredulously, as he came shuflling along. off his horse billee was a bit awkward. “you don’t say! well, now, i never noticed tlfiat! say, billee, you a de-tect-a-tive by any c ance “go on, laugh, kid! you spent enough time sneakin’ up on a whole lot of nothin’, didn’t ye?!» “what do you think about this, mr. hawk- ins!” bud asked of the deputy, who was looking around quietly. “not much, youngster, not much! seems mighty funny to me. doesn’t hardly appear likely that a man could get away in this fiat country without us seeing him. but that ’s what happened all right. never knew a cowpuncher to have that much sneakin’ ability in him.” “maybe it wasn’t a cowboy,” n ort suggested. “maybe it was a—chink.” “never knew a chink to use a forty-four in my life,” the kid declared. “these here shells come from a gun big enough to knock a. chinee clean off his slippers. nope, this here job was done by a puncher—or—” and he stopped a. moment— “or a greaser.” arrival at the ranch _ “a mexican!” cried bud. “say, dick, re- member the conversation we heard in dad ’s new bunk house? maybe it was the same mex that did the shooting!” “what’s this all about, boys?” asked joe hawkins. “anything i ought to know?” “it might help you,” offered dick. “it was two nights ago.” and he told of hearing the voices in the shack. “well, i don ’t know. i don ’t mind telling you that the crowd we ’re after for the smugglin’ is mexican—at least we ‘re pretty sure they are. think you ’d recognize the voices if you heard them again?” “certain sure i could tell that greaser ’s tones in a million,” dick declared. “i’ll never forget him.” after another survey of the terrain, it was decided to start for the shooting star ranch. joe hawkins said he would ride to roaring river with them and make his report, and see if anything had developed in town. so, filling their canteens, the six set ofi. on the way the kid offered a tale of a taran- tula fight. these bouts were carefully arranged by the cowboys, the scene being set in a deep washbowl. two females were the combatants, and the one who first amputated all the legs of the other was declared the winner. occasionally a particularly vicious spider would forsake his natural enemy and leap high at one of the boy ranchers on roaring river _ spectators, inflicting a painful, though not nec- essarily dangerous, bite. hence these contests were not without excitement. “i used to have a pet tarantula i called jenny,” told yellin’ kid. “she was absolutely the meanest critter i ever see! she could just about straddle a saucer, that ’s how big she was. had a coat of hair like a grizzly. she won five fights for me, and i was all set to match her against a spider some puncher brought all the way from oklahoma, when she took a sudden likin’ to jeff peters, and her ca-reer was brought to a sudden close. i cried fer near a week—but jeff, he was more sore than what i was. she got him good before he killed her!” and the kid chuckled rememberingly. -by this time the riders had come in sight of roaring river. they had all been through the town, if it might be so dignified by a name, and of course joe hawkins lived there, so it was no new sight to them. but it was a change from the surroundings the boy ranchers had been used to, and when they remembered that it was here all the smuggling was going on, all were conscious of a feeling of excitement. they de- cided to feed-up in town before going to the ranch, which lay about three miles out. they headed for “herb ’s eating place,” the one and only restaurant with tables. the meals they ordered would have done justice to a hun- gry bear. arrival at the ranch _ “we have arrived!” cried bud, when he swallowed sufliciently to allow himself to talk. “after a long and hazardous journey through the bad-lands of texas, we finally came to this little gem, nestling among the hills, resplendent ini_” “roas’ bifi, roas’ pork, and lem’,” nort fin- ished. “how do you get that way? food al- ways do that to you? look at the kid here. not saying a word.” “good reason for that,” laughed bud. “he couldn’t talk if he wanted to. hey, kid, they serve supper here, you know.” “yea? but i’m takin’ no chances! this place may not be here to-night. wow! what a meal! help me up, boys! help me up!” and the kid struggled slowly to his feet. “guess that’ll hold me for a while,” he sighed. “how about some more pie, kid?” asked dick with a grin on his face. “pie? more pie? vvell, now— what kind is there left?” “apple, and apple, and—apple.” “huh! don ’t like them. guess i’ll take apple. yes, a small piece of apple would just about finish me off.” billee dobb put down his fork and gazed up at the kid. “did i understand you to relate that you was goin’ to eat some more pie ? ” he asked carefully. “you did—why?” i arrival at the ranch _ week, and see how you make out. well, adios, boys. good luck!” ' with a wave of his hand he was ofi’. the boys were sorry to see him leave, for he was very pleasant company. “i have an idea he ’ll be a good friend,” de- clared nort as they rode toward the ranch. “and if anything turns up, we may need a couple of such friends.” “he’s regular, all right,” the kid agreed. “looks as though he could handle himself in a fight, too. doesn’t talk much, but when he does —he says something. yep, he suits me to a t.” “good thing we met him,” dick said. “well, boys, here we are!’ ’ in front lay the ranch. as the five drew closer, they could see that the houses were well built. it was indeed in good shape. “say, here comes somebody that ’s sure in a hurry,” billee dobb said suddenly. “wonder what he wants?” riding toward them, dust raising under his bronco ’s feet, came a lone horseman. chapter vi the tnnnat ulling their ponies to a halt, the five p gazed curiously at the approaching rider. as he drew closer, they noticed he carried a sawed-off “scatter-gun,” otherwise a shot- gun. this in itself was strange. no true west- erner ever sports one of these, and they are looked upon with derision by the regular “gun- totin’ ” cowboy. a long-barreled colt is the puncher’s favorite weapon. the stranger reined up sharply as he came within talking distance and looked piercingly at the ranchers as he called out: “anything i can do for you?” “well, i don’ know,” answered the kid slowly. “you might, and then again you might not. what happens to be your special line?” the stranger scowled. “that’s my business. what i’m aimin’ to find out is, what ’s yours?” “this is the shooting star, isn’t it?” broke in bud. “it is.” ' “well, we ’re the new owners. my name is tuyey t irll t' _ bud merkel—my father just bought this ranch, and we came over to take possession. this is dick shannon, and his brother nort. billee dobb and yellin’ kid on my right. will that do you? now how about tellin’ us who you are?” “me? oh, jim’ll do, i guess. i happen to be the boss hand on this here sheep ranch. so you ’re the new owners, hey? wonder what old ‘j. d.’ will have to say to that. you got papers, i suppose?” “ certainly. here is the bill of sale, and;—” “take it easy, bud, take it easy,” billie dobb cautioned in a low tone of voice. “i don’t exactly care for this feller’s looks.” “who ’s ‘j. d.’—the one tendin’ the ranch now?’ ’ asked the kid. “yea—only he ’s not exactly tendin’ it. he ’s here, and something tells me he ’s goin’ to stay here—new owners or not. ‘j. d.’ don’t care much about owners. what he ’s interested in is keepin’ what he ’s got. and as far as i can see, he’s still got the shootin’ star.” “i don’t like to dispute your word,” nort said hotly, “but we might have something to say about that ourselves. come on, boys, let ’s ride in.” “just a minute—just a minute! where you- all countin’ on headin’ for?” sneered the lone horseman. “the ranch house, of course!” boy ranchers on roaring river _ “now just you let me give you-all a little piece of advice. i won’t charge nothin’ for it, and it might be useful. if i was you boys, i’d turn right around and ride the other way. tell you what you do, youngster—” this to bud—“you tell your father you couldn’t find the ranch.” there was a moment ’s ominous silence. the kid was the first to speak. “well, now, stranger, that ’s kind of you. yes, sir, i think that's right kind of you to take an interest in us like that,” he drawled. “but you know how it is. we sort of want to find out things for ourselves. so if you don ’t mind—” his tone changed suddenly. “we ’ll be gettin’ along to the ranch. out of the way, puncher! let’s go, boys!” the stranger's eyes narrowed. he half raised his rifle, then apparently thinking better of it, let it drop again. as the five moved forward he rode slowly along in the rear. they reached the corral at the side of the house, and bud and dick dismounted. nort, billee, and the kid stayed on their ponies. walking to the door of the house, bud knocked boldly. there was no answer. he knocked again, this time a little harder. still no result. “wonder if there’s anyone around?” asked dick. “suppose we take a look at the side.” “here ’s someone,” bud declared as there was a sound of a key grating in a lock. “they certainly keep things tight down here.” the threat _ the door opened slowly. in its frame stood a man of slight build, and, by cowboy standards, dressed efleminately. he wore a “boiled” col- lar, small black string tie, low cut vest and gray trousers. his long black hair, with a slight shine on it, was brushed straight back. “what ’ll you have, gents?” he asked. “lookin’ for me?” “we ’re looking for the man in charge of the ranch,” dick said slowly. “if you can qualify, then i guess it ’s you we want to see.” “right! and what can i do for you?” “this will tell you,” spoke bud, handing him a copy of the bill of sale for the ranch. “we ’re the new owners. you rent the place, don ’t you? i believe the deed says your term was up last month. sorry to have to put you out, but busi- ness is business. can you get ready to shift by to-morrow morning, do you think? we ’ll make out down in town for to-night.” the man in the doorway didn’t answer. he read over the paper bud had handed him and then looked up. his expression was anything but friendly. “and i’m supposed to beat it out of here, hey?” he asked coldly. “afraid so,” answered bud. the man suddenly stepped to one side. “come in a minute, boys,” he suggested. it was evident that his manner had undergone a change. he seemed more friendly. z boy ranchers on roaring river _ “you just get in?” he asked. “yes—we were delayed on the way, or we would have gotten here sooner.” “sit down, boys.” as the slightly-built man was drawing up chairs bud cast a quick glance at dick. “watch out”! his look signaled. but there seemed no need for suspicion. “j. d.,” as they had heard him called, appeared harmless. “i take it you boys are sensible?” he began when they were seated. “hope so,” dick answered with a slight grin. “we ’ve never been in any asylum that i know of.” “check! now i’d like to talk business with you. first of all, could you use one thousand dollars?” at this surprising query dick and bud started. one thousand dollars! it represented a small fortune. bud thought of the herd of cattle they had just lost and was about to reply aflirmatively, when he felt, rather than saw, a cautioning look come into dick ’s eyes. “that ’s a lot of money,” declared dick, be- fore bud could speak. “we could certainly use it, but you know it pays to be careful how one earns it. robbery is a bit out of our line.” “oh, it ’s nothing like that—nothing like that at all,” the other assured them quickly. “this thousand that i speak of can be yours for just doing me a favor.” the th rea t : _ “sounds like a high price to pay for a favor,” dick said. “but let ’s hear the proposition.” “sure! it ’s simply this: you boys let me stay on at the ranch here, for, say, six more months, and as rental i’ll pay you one grand.” “but certainly this place can ’t be worth that much to you,” broke in bud thoughtlessly. it was a very unwise remark, for it was obvious that this excessive figure was offered for some- thing more than the mere use of the ranch. “j. d. ” had made the mistake of going too high in his ofier, and it instantly awoke suspicion in the minds of dick and bud. but now that bud had blurted out this suspicion, the possibility of being able to secretly find out why they had been offered a thousand for the place disappeared. the cards were on the table. “as to that, i’m the best judge,” “j. d.” said sharply. “if you want to accept, say so. if you don ’t—well——” “can we have until to-morrow to think it over?” asked dick. “nope—sorry, but i have to have your an- swer now. all you have to do is to sign the present owner’s name to a renewal clause—-and since he ’s your father, he won’t object to that,” said the man, turning to bud. evidently he was anxious to get things settled as soon as possible—perhaps before the boys had a chance to investigate. dick looked at bud, and saw that he had boy ranchers on roaring river _ permission to take things into his own hands. dick arose. “well, sir, we can’t do it, and that’s that. we were sent out here to take charge of this ranch, and we’re going to do it, unless mr. merkel tells us to do otherwise. you must get in touch with him if you want a renewal of your lease. and until that time we must take control here. we are sorry, but we must ask you to make ready to leave by to-morrow morning.” the man seated opposite did not move. “is that your last wordi” he asked, slowly. “yes, it is. if we can offer you any assistance in getting ready we’ll be glad to do it.” the man made no response. he arose sud- denly, walked over to the door and flung it open. then he turned to the two boys and with a sneer upon his face, said: “very well! you ’ve had your say, and now i'll make my little speech. you guys come over here and think all you have to do is to tell me to move out, and you move in. i don’t know who you are—never saw you before. for that matter i don’t want to know. you show me some kind of a paper that you may have written yourselves, and expect me to accept it as a bill of sale. well, that ’s out. i don ’t go. “and another thing! i don’ know how many many men you brought with you, but i’ve got twelve here that will stick close to me. so don ’t start anything. good-day, gents!” boy ranchers on roaring river _ eat off of. maybe it was away ’round the back somewhere, but i couldn’t spot it.” “that’s what i thought,” went on the kid. “of course he may have sold all the sheep a while back, and cleared his truck away at the same time, but it don ’t hardly seem likely he could get rid of all traces. where ever sheep go, you can usually tell they been there.” he paused reflectively and added: “sort of queer that deputy we met didn’t say something about there bein’ no sheep here. did you tell him we was expectin’ to find a sheep ranch?” “now that you mention it, i don ’t believe i did,” bud answered. “i said we were going to take charge of a ranch. he probably thought we were bringing the cattle over later.” “probably. so your friend in the house told you he ’d give one thousand bucks if you ’d let him stay, did he?” “yep. that made me suspicious right away, and i foolishly spoke up and told him as much. then he said it was his affair if he wanted to pay that much to stay on. i knew that dad wouldn’t want me to allow him to do that with- out his permission, so i refused—asked him if i could let him know later. but no, that wouldn’t do. he wanted me to sign an extension right away. then when i told him i couldn’t do that, he threatened to stay anyway, and practically dared us to put him ofi.” a sheepless sheep ranch _ “he did, hey? that sort of puts it up to us, don ’t it?” “you know what i think would be a good ideei” billee dobb broke in. “we ought to go down and have a talk with joe hawkins. tell him what we found, and ask him if he’s got any advice he ’d like to dish up. seemed to me he was a pretty reliable feller.” “not bad—not bad,” said yellin’ kid ap- provingly. ‘ ‘ he said he ’d be glad to help us any time. not that we’re goin’ to need any help gettin’ this dude ofi:",” he added quickly. “but it might be a good idea to have the law on our side.” “we can see him and get him to sign a dis-. possess notice, ” nort suggested. ‘ ‘i don ’t know whether he knows what that is, but it’s just a paper saying we have a right to put out whoever is on the land.” _ “we ’ll do that, nort,” agreed dick. “then we can start right. let ’s get on, fellows. it’s getting late, and we want to catch hawkins be- fore he leaves for home.” spurring their broncoes to a faster pace, the five made their way toward the town. the sug- gestion that they were to confer with the friendly deputy seemed a wise one, not because they were afraid to tackle the job of removing “j. d.” alone, but because they wanted to know just how things stood. perhaps by inquiry they boy ranchers on roaring river _ could gain some clew as to why the tenant re- fused to vacate. if he sincerely wanted an extension of his lease to legitimately conduct the business of ranching, he was going about it in a queer way. as the riders reached the town, they stopped a cow puncher and asked where they could find joe hawkins. “right down the street a ways,” they were told. “can’t miss it. jail, court house and sherifi’s ofiice all in one. some shootin’ been goin’ on?”_ “not that we know of,” dick laughed. “though there might be soon,” said bud im- petuously. “how ’s that? you figgerin’ on pluggin’ someone, youngster? ” the cowboy inquired with a grin. “not hardly,” the kid spoke quickly. “we just want to see hawkins about some land. thanks for the info.” their friend looked back at bud and grinned again as he rode away. “evidently thinks you ’re an amateur bad man,” said billee dobb. “you ’ll have a repu- tation in this town before you know it, bud.” by this time they had reached the sheritf’s oflice. all dismounted and went in. they found hawkins seated in a chair talking to another man who was leaning against the side wall gazing out of the window. the deputy a sheepless sheep ranch sprang to his feet as he saw the boys, the light of welcome in his eyes. “come in, boys, come in. jerry, i’d like you to meet some new friends of mine. this here is bud merkel. over here is-—er——-” “my cousins, nort and dick shannon,” fin- ished bud. “and billee dobb and yellin’ kid —if he ever had another name i’ve forgotten it, and i guess he has too.” the deputy’s friend laughed and joe said: “this is jerry adler, boys. say, i thought you fellers were headed for the shootin’ star?” “we were,” bud answered, “but something happened that we want to ask you about.” “guess i’ll be goin’,” said jerry adler. “i’l drop in to-morrow about that matter, joe. no hurry, you know.” “ah right, jerry. glad to see you any time. now, boys,” and he turned to the five standing near him, “what can i do for you? or is it just a friendly visit? if it is, i’m right glad you stopped in. now that you’re here, you must come over to my place for supper. got the best cook you ever saw.” “thanks, mr. hawkins,” responded bud. “we may take advantage of that later. but just now we want to ask your advice.” “go right to it, bud. if i can help you i’ll sure do it!” “when we went over to the shooting star,” _ boy ranchers on roaring river ‘ i - _ bud began, “we expected to find a sheep ranch. instead we find a place that could be used for sheep, but certainly isn’t now. we went in and showed our credentials, and asked the occupant, who was called ‘j. d., ’ i think, if he could move out by to-morrow, so we could get ready to move n. “whoever this ‘j. d.’ is, he isn’t a cow puncher, nor a herder either. he ’s dressed like a chicago dude,” stated bud. the deputy nodded understandingly. evi- dently he was not surprised at bud’s description of the shooting star and its tenant. “well, as i say, we asked him to leave. he not only refused, but threatened trouble if we tried to put him out. said he had twelve men who ’d help him, too. so we thought, if you’d give us a dispossess notice, we could go up there with authority and if he still turned ugly—well —we could do as we thought fit.’ ’ “i see. he told you he wouldn’t leave?” “yes.” “he has no right to stay there, has he ” “none at all. he rented the ranch from the man who formerly owned it, but his lease was up a month ago. dad bought the place free and clear. vve were to manage it for him, and take charge of the sheep when they came in. i be- lieve they are to be driven over in about two weeks.” “in about two weeks? well, boys, i can’t a sheepless sheep ranch _ exactly say i’m surprised at your story. i don ’t mind sayin’ we ’ve been puzzled at the actions of this ‘j. d.’—james delton, i think his name is—for some time now. when he first came he did have some sheep—not many, and he sold them a month after he took the ranch. since then it’s been empty, though, as he says, he ’s got a number of hands on the place. they keep it in good shape, as you may have noticed. but what his business is nobody seems to know. of course out here a man doesn’t go pryin’ into other people ’s affairs unless he ’s fairly certain there ’s something wrong. i’ll go to shooting star with you!” taking his belt and pistol holster from a hanger, the deputy led the way from the olfice. mounted once more, the party swung away toward the shooting star ranch. nort looked over at the kid. “why that smile, kid?” he asked. “was i smilin”! i didn’t know it. say, n ort, looks as though we might hand ourselves somethin’ of a time before we finish with this ‘j. d.’ feller.” “and you’re kind of hopin’ we do,’ hey kid? the last time i saw you smile like that was just before we had that fight with the del pinzo gang. hope you don’t expect another ruckus out here, as bad as that one.” “and if we did, i suppose you’d run away and hide your head,” laughed the kid deri- ‘boy ranchers on roaring river _ sively. “yes you would not! you ’d be in the thick of it with the rest of us.” “perhaps,” admitted nort with a grin. “however, i really don ’t think we ’ll have any trouble. from bud ’s description of delton he ’s sort of a weak-kneed type. we ’ll just have to tell him what’s what, and i’m sure he’ll back down.” “ can ’t tell,” the kid averred. “ those dudes have sometimes got a mean lot of fight in them. ” up ahead joe hawkins and bud were talking in low tones. finally bud turned about and called to the rest: “close up a minute, fellows. mr. hawkins has something to say before we reach the ranch.” “it ’s just this,” began the deputy, when they had gathered around him. “the way i figure, there ’s no sense of us all going in to see delton. if we call on him like a delegation, he ’ll get het up, and be more disagreeable than if we went about this thing quietly. now bud and i will go in. you four stay around the corral, and kid and billee, while you’re waiting, you might take a ride around and size up the place. see if you can discover traces of sheep bein’ here in the last six months, and whatever else you can find out. all right, boys, here we are. re- member what i told you, kid. let ’s go, bud!” the two dismounted. turning their horses over to nort, they walked toward the ranch z sheepless sheep ranch _ house. the deputy stepped to the door and knocked. “he took quite a while to answer when we were here before,” bud suggested. “better knock again.” the deputy did so. “ ’pears like he don’t care for no visitors. wonder if we can see anything by lookin’ in the window?” “i’ll have a try,” volunteered bud. stepping to the side of the house he peered in the case- ment. “too dark,” he reported. “can’t see a thing!” “must be somebody around,” hawkins de- clared, as he knocked again, this time more loudly. within all was quiet. “funny,” he commented. then suddenly he turned the doorknob. the door swung open. after a quick glance the deputy walked in. “not a soul in sight!” he called after a minute. “the place is sure deserted. not only have they got no sheep on this place, but even the men are gone now ” chapter viii oxcnonn ollowing the deputy into the house, f bud looked about. the place felt vacant. it had an atmosphere of emptiness. the furniture in the rooms had a tossed-about ap- pearance, as though the occupants had made a hurried exit. a cheap vase lay on the floor by the mantel, broken. rugs were kicked up. “well, what do you think_of that? ” bud said slowly. “they’re gone! vamoosed! and quick, too. must have done some tall hustlin’ to get out in that short time. wonder what the idea was? do you think delton might be around back, or somewhere outside'l” “better look, anyway.” hawkins stepped to the doorway and suddenly let out a yell. “yo-o-o-o, kid! over here!” “yo-o!” came the answer. “right there!” and yellin’ kid, together with billee dobb, rode to the ranch house. “what’ll you have!” the kid called as he came up. “take a ride around the place and see if you so cyclone _ can locate someone; will you? the house is empty.” “right! billee, you ride to the left and i’ll go this way. back in two shakes.” “mighty queer where everyone has disap- peared to,” hawkins commented. “when you were here before, bud, did they look as though they were getting ready to light out?” “nope—just the opposite. as i told you, delton insisted that he was going to stay. i can’t imagine what scared them off. unless delton decided discretion was the better part of valor. it certainly doesn’t seem logical that they’d make tracks like this, after what delton said.” “here comes the kid. got someone with him; hasn’t he?” asked bud. “he sure has—a mex, i’d say.” “the lone survivor!” the kid yelled as he rode toward them. “bud, recognize him?” and he pushed the mexican, whom he held by the collar, forward. “why, he’s the fellow we saw in the res- taurant! remember, mr. hawkins? the one you pointed out; isn’t he?” “you mean pete alvido”! come ’ere, son— let ’s have a look at you.” the deputy peered closely. “nope! sure looks like pete, but it isn’t. ’nough like him to be his brother, though. hey, mex, what’s your name‘! what are you doin’ around here?” boy ranchers on roaring river _ the mexican didn’t answer. he simply shrugged his shoulders, and stood silent, his face expressionless. “speak up, boy! what’s your name?” still no reply. “lost your tongue, mex?” the kid broke in. “take my advice, and answer when you’re spoken to.” the kid touched his gun sugges- tively. not that he would have thought of en- forcing his half-uttered threat, but he simply wanted to show the mexican they meant business. at this the man gesticulated toward his throat, and a guttural sound came from his lips. “why the pore cuss means he’s dumb!” ex- claimed billee dobb, who had ridden in. ‘ ‘ can’t speak! hey you! no spiki no habla?” the mexican shook his head forcibly. “a dumb greaser!” cried the kid. “well, he ’s not much of a find. he ’s the only one left of this outfit, though. hey, mex! where ’s the boss? gone?” with a widespread gesture of his arms the man indicated his lack of knowledge of the subject. at least he seemed to understand a little english. “can ’t get much out of him,” hawkins com- mented. “well, boys, seems like you ’ll have no more trouble takin’ possession of the shootin’ star. it’s yours. say—” and he turned to their captive. “what’s your job? vaquero? cyclone _ herder? cook? ” at the last word the mex-. ican nodded vigorously. “you ’re in luck, boys. here’s a cook all ready for you. got any food inside? eats?” the deputy asked the mexican. he was answered with another aflirmative shake of the head. “now you’re all fixed up for the night. might as well call in the other two. what ’s their name again? shannon, isn’t it? kid, you give ’em a yell. you seem to be able to do that particularly well.” n ort and dick came riding over in response to the kid’s summons. “who ’s this you got, kid?” asked nort. “some friend of yours? why, he’s the mexican we saw in herb’s!” “no he isn’t—that’s what i thought too,” bud said. “mr. hawkins says it’s another—- though it sure looks like him. this one ’s dumb. ” “vvhat do you mean—stupid?” “no—can’t talk. at least he says he can ’t— i mean he wants us to understand that he can’t.” bud corrected himself. “i’ve got to be getting back,” interrupted the deputy. “i suppose you men will settle here, now that you ’ve got a cook and food. that is, if he ’ll cook for you and you want to take a. chance that he won’t poison you. hey, you— cook for hombres?” again that vigorous nod. “seems agreeable enough. now if you want boy ranchers on roaring river _ anything, you know where to reach me. if it ’s at night, you ’ll find me down the street ’bout half a mile from the oflice, on the same side. anyone will tell you where joe hawkins ’s place is. so long, boys. again, good luck.” “good-bye, mr. hawkins. we ’re much obliged to you for riding over with us.” “glad to do it, bud. any time at all. git along there, bronc. adios!” “so-long!” (c bye! “at last we ’re here,” nort declared. “no trace of anyone around; hey bud? i/vonder what became of them. i wouldn’t mind seeing our little friend with the sawed-off shot-gun again.” “let ’s not look for trouble,” dick suggested. “i think what happened was that this fellow you call ‘j. d.’ decided to take the opportunity to get out without trouble. i don ’t believe we ’ll see him again.” “maybe not. we’ve got enough to worry about without him. kid, suppose you take charge of getting things ready for the night. those sheep won’t be here for a week or so, and in the meantime we can fix things up a bit. to-morrow i’ll go scouting around for a good sheepman. there ought to be plenty in town. all right, kid, we’re under your orders.” “check! nort, you take the horses to the corral and see that they get fed. i guess you ’ll cyclone _ find some feed around somewhere—there’s a barn down there a piece—look there. dick, you go see what sort of sleepin’ quarters they got here. it might be well for us to stay here in the house for the night. we can settle on a bunk house later. the rest of you can make your- selves generally useful. i’ll go ’tend to the eats. mex, we need food! where ’s the kitchen?” apparently understanding, the mexican led the way toward the rear, followed by the kid. the lay-out of the place was a great deal like that of the ordinary cattle ranch. indeed, if one were not wholly familiar with the types of dwellings which dot the texas border, he would be hard put to show the difference between a cattle and a sheep ranch. the corral of the cattle ranch would be built of stronger boards, and on the sheep ranch, or “farm,” there would be huge vats for “dipping” the sheep, to cure them of any disease they might have contracted. but except for these minor differences the two ranches are much the same. of course the per- sonnel of the sheep ranch would not be as ex- tensive as that of the cattle ranch—one herder being able to adequately care for two thousand head of sheep. in shearing time the ranch hands are increased, to take care of this added labor. so it is not strange to find five hands prepared to take over the management of a whole sheep chapter ix delton returns yclones are somewhat rare visitors c on the prairies, but when they do come they make up for lost time. bud, though he had lived the greater part of his life on the range, had never seen one. now he stood with his face to the east, drinking in the awesome sight. the eastern sky was covered with a blanket of black, ominous-looking clouds, which quickly expanded and filled the whole heavens with their darkness. the breeze had died away and a deathlike stillness hung in the air. nature seemed to be hesitating, gathering up her forces for a tremendous onslaught. suddenly the black clouds in the east were tinted to a coppery color, which slowly turned to a dark green. and still bud stood, oblivious to all else save the grandeur of the scene before him. within the ranch house the men were scurry- ing about, shutting windows, glancing out now and then to see the progress of the approaching storm. as - boy ranchers on roaring river _ to see if the mexican understood. to his sur- prise the cook nodded several times and pointed toward the sky, turning his other arm windmill fashion. his lips gave forth a whistling sound. after this demonstration he motioned to his bacon, rubbed his stomach, shrugged his shoul- ders, and went on with his cooking. no words could have said plainer: “sure! i know. cyclone coming. what of it? can ’t stop it now. must eat. might as well stay here and cook. hey?” “well, if you’re not a cool customer!” the kid cried, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and tilting back on his heels. “cook! go ahead an’ cook! you might just as well say hello to st. peter with a fryin’ pan in your hand as not. how does she look, nort?” he asked as the boy rancher came in the door. “not so good! where’s bud?” “bud? i thought he was with you. maybe he ’s helping with the broncoes. i’ll take a squint here in back—” as the kid stepped into the yard he saw bud—standing silent, widened eyes staring at the sky. the kid started back in surprise. “another guy that ’s gone locoed! first the cook, and then you! hey, n ort, take a look at bud. he’s in a trance or something! wake up, time to get up!” “wonderful!” murmured bud, without turn- ing his head. “isn’t that wonderful, kid? see boy ranchers on roaring river _ the five waited no longer. with a leap they reached the cyclone cellar. the kid was the last i , and just before he disappeared below ground he looked again at the roaring funnel of wind. it was almost upon them. in another moment, unless a near-miracle occurred, there would be nothing left of the shooting star but a few timbers. the ranch lay directly in the path. cyclones are freaks of nature. even as the kid watched, hoping that the terrible funnel might be diverted, nature gave a demonstration of one of its most startling feats. the funnel lifted. within three hundred yards of the ranch the tip raised above the ground. as though a giant hand had pulled it up into the heavens, the whirling, twisting cyclone merged into the blackness overhead. a tremendous pressure beat against the kid’s body. the air about was tingling with electricity. and there, directly above the kid’s head, sailed the terrible funnel, its tip held harmlessly aloft from contact with the ground, thundering and screaming in disappointed rage. for several seconds the “twister” remained suspended. then two hundred yards past the ranch it dipped to earth again, and went smashing along on its mission of destruction and death. the ranch was saved. the kid silently led the way out of the cellar. delton returns _ as the five stood once more above ground, they looked about at the surroundings. ofi in the distance the cyclone could be seen whirling along, gradually growing smaller and smaller as it departed. as they watched the terror disappear, a prayer of thankfulness was in the heart of each. it was indeed a near-miracle that had saved the ranch from complete annihilation. bud was the first to speak. his utterance was not exactly fraught with elegancy, but it expressed the feelings of all. “whew!” he said with a long, drawn-out sigh. “and then some!” cried dick. “what a show that was !” “boy!” billee dobb breathed. “i"m sure glad we got missed! when i saw that ole baby comin’, i says ‘raise yore sights, buster, raise yore sights! you got the wrong range!’ an blamed if she didn’t raise, too!” a laugh started—the kind that relieves the soul after a tense and dangerous moment. bud broke out in a loud guffaw. then the kid let loose—and for two minutes the air re-echoed with the shouts of glee of the five ranchers. nothing really to laugh at; this laughter was not exactly in appreciation of billee’s remark. it was more in the nature of a celebration. “whusch ! ” cried bud weakly, when he could get his breath. “you crazy coot! so you’re delton returns _ one of those for a while, anyway. well, will you look at that roof!” the kid indicated another out-house. its roof was turned directly around, so that the back was where the front should be. not a board on it was broken. “looks like a crazy-house down at coney island!” laughed nort. “dick, i thought you were going to see about eats? i’m starved.” dick walked toward the kitchen. before he got there the aroma of cooking bacon told the waiting cowboys that the mexican was still on the job. “must have the whole place full of food by this time,” bud commented. “think i’ll take another look around, kid. billee, you want to come along? i just want to make sure we haven’t missed anything.” the two set ofi on a tour of inspection. it was growing dark now, and it would soon be too late to repair that night anything that was damaged. “guess we haven’t lost much,” bud said to the veteran rancher. “we ’re pretty lucky, eh, billee?” ‘ ‘ sure are! we ’ll just look around the corner of this building, however, and then go back. i’m sort of hungry myself.” “me too. hope that mex has—” bud broke off suddenly. he peered hard at the earth in the shadow of the shack. then he walked swiftly over. chapter x bud rmns a note illee dobb approached deliberately b and gazed long and earnestly into the face of the recumbent man. “so that ’s delton, is it?” he said. “he sure took a funny way to come back. wonder if he’s—” the rancher stooped swiftly and laid his hand on the breast of the man. “nope! still living. we ’d better get him to the house soon as possible. grab hold there, bud. ” lifting him as gently as they could, so they might not cause the blood to flow more strongly, they carried the injured man toward the ranch house. they laid him on the couch in the living- room, which was known as the “parlor,” and generally reserved for funerals. “i’ll get some water and bandages—if i can find any,” said bud when he had disposed of his burden. “that white shirt of the kid’s will do,” billee suggested as bud made for the door. “he ’s got it rolled up in his saddle pack.” the man on the couch seemed to be breathing more strongly now. the blood from the cut ' boy ranchers on roaring river _ had partly clotted, and the flow was greatly diminished. but a glance at his face showed that he was in a very weak condition. “must have been lyin’ out there quite a spell,” billee commented, as bud returned with the shirt and a basin of water. the news of the unconscious visitor had traveled fast, for dick, n ort and the kid followed bud into the room. “vvho is lie?” asked the kid as he bent over. “little feller, ain’t he?” “recognize him, dick?” bud said, kneeling down by the man ’s side and dipping one end of the shirt in his basin. “n o, can ’t say that i—yes i do, too! it ’s the fellow that was here when we came—the one who offered us the thousand! it’s ‘j. d.’!” “right. vve found him lying over by a shack, dead to the world. billee and i carried him in here. seems to have a nasty cut, but i don’t believe it’s dangerous. way he talked to me here a while ago, he ’s too ornery to die.” “must have been caught in the big wind,” nort said. “hit by a board, probably. ” “so that ’s delton, hey?” yellin’ kid drawled. “well, mister, i’m pleased to make your acquaintance. you don’t look pertikerly dangerous to me. but you can ’t tell about these quiet ones. liable to fly up any minute. don ’t wash that blood off, bud! leave it lay. have him bleedin’ again if you don’t watch out. nort, mosey out an’ see if that dumb mex has got bud finds a note _ the cofiee ready. bring in some, will you? leave the ‘canned cow’ out of it. when this boy wakes up he wants something strong. ” the man’s eyes opened for a minute, then closed again. the dusk outside was settling rapidly now, and the room was growing darker. dick ran to the kitchen and returned with a lighted candle, which he held close to the head of the recumbent figure. by this time their visitor had regained consciousness, and was staring wide-eyed at the group surrounding the couch—three men leaning expectantly over his body, while a fourth held a lighted candle aloft like a weird statue. little wonder that a man awaking to such surroundings would be somewhat bewildered. “how do you feel, mister?” yellin’ kid asked solicitously when he saw that delton was conscious. “not so—good,” was the jerky answer. ‘ ‘ stomach—sick—head f eels— ’ ’ “swally this,” urged billee holding to his lips the steaming coffee nort had brought from the kitchen. “sure it ’s hot! don’t want cold sody, do ya? ’at’s-a-boy—drink ’er down! better now?’ ’ “yea,” the man answered in a weak voice. “what happened? woolworth tower fall on me? wow! what a head! seems to me i remember takin’ a. subway train at times boy ranchers on roaring river _ square—or was that last year! can’t just think straight now——” “n ew york,” whispered bud to dick. “thought he didn’t look like a westerner !” “just you lay quiet,” advised yellin’ kid. “won’t do you a bit of good to talk now. got lots of time to do that. you stay here to-night, an! ’ “i remember now! that storm! i was rid- ing over toward the shootin’ star ranch, when the sky got black, and that dumb-bell horse of mine started to act up. the next minute i got hit by a ton of bricks.” he was silent a moment, thinking. “say—” he suddenly propped himself up on one elbow and glanced around. “i know where i am! yes. and i know you—and you!” pointing at bud and dick. “you’re the two galoots that—oh !’ ’ he finished weakly, and sank back. he closed his eyes again. it was not evi- dent to the watchers whether he had really fainted, or whether he realized he was talking too much. at all events it was useless to expect him to say more. at bud ’s suggestion he was carried upstairs, and after his heavier clothing had been removed he was laid in one of the beds. he seemed to be resting easily, and if his sleepy attitude was simulated at first, it certainly was not now, as his regular breathing and relaxed condition indicated. _ bud finds a note _ “better let him sleep,” dick said in a low voice. “he ’ll be all right when hewakes up. the bleeding from his head has stopped, and if he had anything else the matter he would have told us. i think we’d all better eat. let ’s get out of here, anyway—we’ll disturb him if we talk much.” “eat!” exclaimed the kid when they had all left the room wherein delton lay. “let’s see now—have i heard that word before, or did i dream it? believe me, when i sit down to this chow nothin’ is goin’ to drag me away—fire, wind or flood! seems like that mex cook of ours is a hoodoo. every time we start to eat something happens.” “guess we ’ll go through with it all right this time,” dick remarked with a laugh. “here we are, boys. set! and go to it! enough bacon here for an army. kid, go easy on that bread! you want to choke?” the five were seated around a table in the rear of the house. in the middle of the table was a huge plate of bacon, and next to this was a mess of beans, steaming hot. bread, butter, coffee and condensed milk or “canned cow” completed the repast. “wonder where the mex got all this food?” nort asked as he reached for the bread. “real good, anyhow. guess we ’d better keep the greaser, if he ’ll stay.” “keep him ’til we get settled,” added dick. boy ranchers on roaring river _ “i don’t exactly like his looks. he ’s tod much like the mex that joe hawkins pointed out- the one he said to watch out for—remember '— to suit me.” “don ’t be tryin’ to find trouble, dick,” ad- vised bud. “that mex is just as good as the next one. but it is funny why he should be lingering around here when all the rest lit out. and to have this food all ready for us. well——” “got a few suspicions up your own sleeve, eh‘! ” laughed dick. “boys,” billee said slowly, “i want to tell you something. you remember what your dad said about smugglin’, bud? ” at the word the men at the table gave a slight start. “yes, smugglin’. you ’d forgot all about it, hadn’t ye? well, i ain’t. while we were in hawkins’s office i noticed a bill-head on his desk. i took it. here it is.” he passed over the paper to the kid. tho others got up and leaned over the kid’s shoulder, reading it. “two thousand dollars’ reward,” said the kid haltingly, “for the a-rest and con-viction of —the person whose picture is below, and who is known in new york as dapper dan craven. he is wanted for smuggling chinese. escaped custody at ” he stopped. his eyes sought the picture. _ : boy ranchers on roaring river _ excitin’ things to happen in the next few weeks !” silence followed billee’s long speech. the veteran rancher had thrown a veritable bomb- shell into camp. delton_the man lying asleep upstairs—the head of the smugglers! two thousand dollars’ reward! why, all they had to do was to tie him up and carry him to town- over to the deputy’s house. capturing the smuggling king the first night at the shooting star! it seemed too good to be true. “there ’s a catch in it somewhere,”' com- mented dick. “n o man with a reward like that on his head is going to dump himself into our hands.” “why not? it wasn’t his fault. he came sneakin’ around the place to spy on us and got caught by the cyclone. then a board or some- thing hit him on the head and he fell where we found him. nothing strange about that! we got him and got him good! wow, what can’t we do with two thousand dollars!” “ there ’s one thing we forgot, boys,” the kid broke in. “and what’s that?” “we ’re downstairs, an’ delton is upstairs.” “that ’s soon fixed!” bud cried, as he sprang for the steps. “let’s go, boys!” “take it easy!” cautioned the kid quickly. “what’s the use of scarin’ him? we’ll just go up there and truss him up while he’s asleep. bud finds a note \ _ won ’t hurt him. that out on the head was all that ailed him. now, take your time!” the ranchers moved quietly toward the room in which they had left delton. as he reached the door, bud opened it slowly and peered in. not a sound. then he stuck his head in a bit further. still no action. in the darkness he could see the outline of the bed but faintly. softly he turned the covers down. farther— farther! then he let out a yell. “hey, come here! quick!” “what ’s the trouble?” the kid called as he entered the room. “he’s gone! he beat it! look!” in the bed, molded into the shape of a man, were two pillows. delton had escaped, leaving the pillows in such a way as to make it appear that he was still in the bed. “here’s a note!” bud cried. “he left it on one of the pillows. let’s have that candle, dick.” by the flickering spluttering light of the candle bud read aloud: “sorry i got to go so sudden, but this bed is too hard. i wouldn’t sleep well. if you guys want a little advice, you’ll move along out of this section. it ain’t healthy. a word to the wise. j. d.” chapter xi joe nawkms’s visrr an you beat that!” nort ejaculated i‘ ‘ , when bud finished reading. “nerve —that delton certainly has his share of it!” the feeling which the note aroused was not just one of disappointment. the kid seemed highly amused at the turn events had taken. billee dobb assumed an “i-told-you-so” ex- pression which sat comically on his grizzled features. the rest looked slightly bewildered. “got away, didn’t he?” dick asked in a flat tone of voice. “through the window, i guess. yep. slid down the rain water leader. well?” “an’ he took with him your wireless and your new bunch of cattle,” the kid remarked sardonically. “never count the chickens before they scratch. mr. delton is a slicker article than we figgered on.” “let’s see the note a minute, bud,” nort said. “huh—‘bed too hard—couldn’t sleep!’ wise sort of a bird; isn’t he? say, he must have written this as soon as we left the room.” so joe hawkins’s visit _ “one of us wants to take a ride into town and see about gettin’ hold of a sheep-man. i got to get me a pony, too.” “i’ll go,” offered nort. “think i'll look up hawkins. he might like to know what hap- pened.” the five walked slowly into the yard. the meal seemed to change their ideas, and set them quietly to thinking. bud was leaning against the side of the ranch house. the kid strolled over to the corral and looked longingly at the four horses tethered there. billee dobb was seated on the steps smoking his pipe, when he noticed a cloud of dust in the distance. “rider,” he said, more to himself than to the others. “got a hunch who it is.” the dust cloud grew quickly nearer, and from it emerged the figure of a man on horseback. “someone coming,” dick called. “who is it?” bud asked. from where he stood he was unable to see. “don’t know yet. looks familiar, though. here he comes.” “it ’s joe hawkins!” exclaimed bud, as the horseman rode into view. “hi, j oe—mr. hawkins, i mean.” “jim ’ll do, son,” the deputy said with a smile as he dismounted. “looks like you was havin’ a convention here.” “just thinking things over,” the kid, who the story of smuggling _ hundred dollars have been paid. just a mere matter of slavery, that ’s what it amounts to. “but the chink signs. what’s fifteen hun- dred in the land of ‘plenty dollah?’ now our chink is put on a vessel bound for mexico. there he is met by an agent of the same com- pany that put him on board in china. “this agent takes him to a town, near the border—say presidio, or some such place. then the real fun begins. the company notifies their man at headquarters that the chink has arrived and is ready to be shipped across the border. headquarters looks up the chink’s bond that he signed in china, and which has been received through the mail, and sends back word that everything is o. k., that the chink, with sev- eral others, is to be handed to a smuggler at a certain spot, to be smuggled over the border. and when the chink is so delivered the com- pany’s part ends. “after this the chink’s fate is in the hands of the smugglers, and if they get caught, and the poor coot is sent back to china again by the emigration authorities, he ’s still got to pay that fifteen hundred, although all he got for his money was a long ride and hard treatment. “the border runners take their consignment of chinese and either pack them in the back of an auto or wagon, or arrange to smuggle them across some other way. if they’re lucky, they get through. if not they get hauled up by the boy ranchers on roaring river _ _ border oflicers, and the runners get jail and the chinks are sent back to their native land. and even if they do get through the lines the chinks’ troubles aren’t over, for at any time they’re liable to be pulled in for not having what they call a ‘chock gee,’ which is a government paper signifying they are here lawfully and not by smuggling. i told you about that before. “and that ’s how the game works. these smugglers get hold of a ranch near the border so they can hide their chinks when they get them across, until the time is set to turn them loose. ’course i can’t say that’s what this place has been used for. but it would be great for it.” the narrator paused and the boy ranchers drew long breaths of excitement. “well, boys, what do you think about it?” the tall deputy looked from one to the other. he was prepared for a deluge of questions, and they came. “can ’t the chinese counterfeit this ‘chock gees?” “who gets the fifteen hundred dollars?” “has that smuggling been going on here— near the shooting star?” “cease firing!” the deputy laughed. “i’ll answer bud’s question first. yes, it has been going on here—right past roaring river. that ’s how our marshal got shot up—tryin’ to stop a load of chinks from gettin’ through. “that fifteen hundred, dick, is divided be- the story of smuggling _ _ tween the men who actually do the running, and the company that ships the chinks to mexico. the smugglers get about five hundred a head for every man they get in. the ‘chock gee’ is often counterfeited, but not very successfully. it’s printed like a government bank bill, and is just as hard to fake.” for some time the discussion about smuggling went on. the deputy told of the difierent tricks resorted to by the border runners in get- ting their human cargo safely into the united states, and to what lengths they will go to pre- vent capture. boats are also used to transport the chinese to the american seacoast, hawkins said, and if, by chance, the runners were caught with a load of prospective undesirable ameri- cans they got out of the difliculty by the simple expedient of dumping the chinese into the sea. another method of transportation was for the smugglers to put off in a small craft from a mexican port, with a cargo of barrels and chinese. when the boat neared the united states coast the chinese would be nailed in the barrels and thrown overboard, to trust to the mercies of fate to bring them ashore. often the wind blows in an oflshore direction, which spells death to the floating chinese; weeks later they are found dead, when the barrels pile up on some distant coast. this system of sneaking chinese into this the story of smuggling _ _ it sort of hits me hard, losin’ a good bronc like that.” “it wasn’t your fault, kid,” bud hastened to say. “and dad will insist on buying you an- other. so if mr. hawkins knows of one that will suit you, take it. you ’ll fix him up with a. horse then, mr. hawkins?” “depend on it,” the tall deputy declared. “now to business. i’ve told you boys all i knew about the way smuggling is being done around here, but i didn’t do it just to be in- terestin’. i want you-all to help me.” “sure!” “that’s what we ’re here for!” “n o we ’re not, kid, ’ ’ bud corrected. “we ’re here to herd sheep. but we’ll certainly help mr. hawkins all we can.” “here’s the dope, boys,” and the deputy leaned closer. “this delton may or may not have been doin’ business here at the ranch. if he has been, an’ i’m goin’ to figger that way, his friends still expect him to be here. he left in too much of a hurry to send out word. an’ here ’s where you-all come in. “i want you to pretend the ranch hasn’t changed hands. just lay low for a while, not travelin’ ’round much, an’ we ’ll see what hap- pens. i don ’t mind tellin’ you we got another tip, that some chinks were goin’ to be rushed across within’ the next few days. can’t say just when, but soon now. it ’s a big load this chapter xiii trapped or some minutes the boys listened to the f details of the deputy ’s scheme. it in- volved danger, there was no doubt of that, but it also gave a chance for success. if luck held in their favor—and kid said after the run of misfortune they had met with it was time for a change of weather—they might hope for a rich prize—possibly delton himself—though this last did not seem likely. the whole success of the plan depended on fooling the smugglers into thinking the ranch was still held by delton. “and there we are,” finished hawkins. “any questions, boys? you-all know what to do?” “all set!” yellin’ kid answered. “now that’s over with, guess i’ll mosey down to town.” “rather you stayed around, kid, if you don ’t mind,” said the deputy. “anything par- ticular you wanted? ’ ’ “well, just to see about that bronc you mentioned. and we got to get hold of a sheep- man soon.’ ’ trapped _ “i’ll fix that up for you,” hawkins offeredo “dick, how about you riding back with me?” “glad to, mr. hawkins. anybody want anything?’ ’ “better find out about food, ’ ’ suggested nort. “and we could all stand a clean shirt or two. before you go, dick, we all better take inven- tory. didn’t bring much, you know. what do you say, boys? speak up, and dick can collect your stufi while he ’s in town. ” “where ’s that mex?” the kid asked. “wait a minute while i head for the kitchen. he bounded up the steps and flung open the door. to his surprise a figure stumbled away and ran back. but yellin’ kid was faster, and in a moment he had collared the man. it was the mexican cook. “hey, what the mischief you doin’ here? huh? listenin’, weren’t you?” the mexican shook his head. “what, then? if you weren’t listenin’ what were you doin’?” the cook pointed toward the kitchen and then to his mouth. he spread both hands, palms upward. “no more grub? oh, i see. an’ you was comin’ to tell us?” ‘ ‘what ’s the matter, kid?” the deputy called. “who you talking to?” the kid dragged the mexican out into the yard. trapped _ “the kid wants to handle a pony again,” n ort said, when the kid had left. “he hated to lose that one of his.” - “mighty fond of it,” declared bud. “while you’re gone, dick, i think i’ll take a look around and see what i can find.” “wouldn’t go too far,” hawkins cautioned. “here’s your bronc, dick. let’s be on our way. see you fellers later. so long. ” the two—dick and the deputy—rode toward the town. billee dobb resumed the smoking of his pipe. the effect of the exciting plan they had just heard seemed to have departed with the deputy, for the minds of those at the ranch turned again to the business of sheep farming. billee spoke of “washes,” and “dips,” and of buying a few “hurdles.” these terms were greek to the boys, being experienced as they were only in cattle and not sheep raising, but billee explained to them some of the peculiar- ities of the “woolies.” he in a varied career had seen most of the life of the range, and it was no surprise to the boys to find he had once herded sheep. as the morning wore on, the ranchers busied themselves in the doing of many tasks about the place. the kid made a thorough inspection of the roofs and sides of the several shacks, to check up on the repairing needed. nort inves- tigated the state of their living quarters—the bunk and cook house. bud decided to ride a bit boy ranchers on roaring river _ tained. a gun could be poked through the bush and all the ground, except a very small part directly in front of the hill, would be covered. the person who dug it evidently had in mind the advantages of firing from a hidden spot. “well, no use in staying in here any longer. hope that fool bronc of mine is still there. don’t want to lose her like the kid did his. won ’t the rest be surprised when i tell them about this! the kid will want to come right out and see it, and try it out. and billee dobb will say ‘i thought there was sumpin’ like this!’ gosh, this thing is pretty deep.” bud put both hands on the sides and pulled himself toward the top. he threw one leg over the edge and was just about to spring out when that unconscious something which often warns us of the presence of another caused him to look up. what he saw almost caused him to fall back into the pit again. looking down at him was a man. in his hand he held a gun, the muzzle pointed at bud ’s head. and as the boy saw the man’s face he uttered a cry. “delton!” “the same! i see you decided to visit us. well, buddy, you’re in for a good long visit!” delton’s lips curled in a sardonic smile. to—morrow night _ there was nothing for it but to obey. it would do no good to persist in questioning his captors, and not only would he learn nothing, but the questions would only serve to antagonize them more. the three rode along silently. now and then bud would shift in the saddle, for it is no easy thing to ride a long ways on a nervous pony with one ’s hands tied behind. finally they seemed to reach their destination—the house bud had seen in the distance. it was a ramshackle afiair, with the roof partly torn away and no vestige of paint. evidently it had once been used for a farm house, for about it were several other shacks, probably to store grain in. delton dismounted and held the bridle of bud ’s pony. “your new home,” he said, with a grin. “come right in. sorry we can’t fix you up better, but you see all the servants are away. the lad hesitated a moment. “off you come!” delton seized bud by the belt and pulled. the boy tumbled ofi his pony and hit the ground. “that wasn’t—necessary!” the boy panted, as he lay there with most of the breath knocked out of him. luckily he had fallen on his side, and not on his face, which would have meant a real injury, his hands tied as they were. ' “maybe not, but i figger it’ll do you good. boy ranchers on roaring river _ give you an appetite for dinner,” and delton laughed harshly. “vvhere i come from we treat ’em worse than that.” “aw, let him alone,” sam growled. “no use hurtin’ the kid! that won’t help us any. if we get caught it won’t be so good havin’ a lot of enemies.” “who said we were goin’ to get caught?” delton walked over to where sam sat on his pony. ‘ ‘ sam, i haven ’t liked your actions lately. now you yell about getting caught. you know what happened to that last bird who arranged for me to meet up with the cops?” “yea, i know.” sam moved uneasily in his saddle. he did not meet delton’s eyes. “you don’t think i’d tell on you, do ya—an’ get twenty years myself ain’t likely. any- way : “all right! pipe down. get this kid inside. i want to see if slim got back yet.” “come on, kid. here, i’ll help you up. hurt yourself?” sam had dismounted and assisted bud to his feet. “no, i didn’t. thanks. what was his idea in pulling me ofi like that! if ever i get him i’ll remember it.” “oh, he always pulls stunts like that. wants everybody to know he’s a hard guy. comes from new york, and thinks he can put it all over the west. one thing i will say for him, he sure can shoot. that ’s enough, now.” boy ranchers on roaring river to all this trouble? just because i found that pit by the water hole? “that doesn’t seem reasonable. must want me for something besides that. guess i’ll know soon enough. in the meantime i’ll take a look around. water! that’s right—i am thirsty. funny how you forget that when you’re ex- cited.” bud was talking to himself now. there are people who seem to be able to puzzle things out better if the problem is put into words than if they just revolve it over in their minds. bud was one of these, and as he investigated his prison he kept talking in a low tone to himself. with the shades up he was able to get a better view of the room. it was small, and had only that one window in it. the furniture consisted of a chair and a table. the floor was bare. the walls were painted a dull gray. bud pushed experimentally against one of the sides, but to no purpose. it was as solid as iron. there was one more thing to be tried, that was the door. bud was reconciled to spending at least the morning within the room, and it made very little difference to him whether the door was of oak, as “sam” had said, or some softer wood. however, he thought, he might as well take a crack at it. try anything once, he reasoned. he walked over and turned the knob softly. it refused to budge an inch. then bud applied more pressure. this time it turned slowly. _ boy ranchers on roaring river _ _ fingers softly, and his eyes lit up. “i’ve got it!” he whispered. taking ofi his vest and shirt he wrapped the pitcher well in them, after pouring out the water. then he tapped it gently against the window-sill. it made almost no noise, so he hit it harder. after a few tries he felt it break. as he unwrapped his bundle of shattered porce- lain he saw he had, luckily, broken a piece just the size he wanted. he replaced his shirt and vest and with the piece of pitcher in his hand he made once more for the door, this time with a real hope of escaping. “just the right length!” bud exalted as he slid the narrow knife-like porcelain through the crack in the door and against the bolt. then he started to coax the bolt from its slide. softly, softly he scraped against the iron, and to his delight felt it move ever so little. he could not open the door to its full extent in his endeavor to slip the bolt, for this would tighten the chain and hold the metal piece more firmly in its slide. he had to work with his left hand holding the door at the proper angle and his right hand using the piece of the water pitcher. it was tiresome work. several times bud halted as he heard footsteps in the hall outside, but they went on their way without stopping. the porcelain was rapidly wearing down. its edge had already become dulled, and no longer offered the purchase on the iron that it did at boy ranchers on roaring river _ “yep! two dozen cans of the best yellow cling peaches. an’ flour, bacon, an’ all the rest. help me unload, boys.” with five pairs of willing hands on the job, the wagon was quickly relieved of its load. the food was carried into the kitchen, and left there for the cook with an admonition to: “get busy, mex. we’re starved!” “thanks for bringing the stuff over so promptly,” dick said to the youthful driver. “you must have hit only the high spots to get here so quick.” “should say i did! one time we left the ground and stayed up while a coyote ran under the whole length of the wagon. can ’t beat this here team of mine for speed. well, guess i’ll be gettin’ back. all set, ponies? don’t strain yourselves, now. got plenty of time. just go along nice an’ easy. yes, sir, boys, i love these animals like brothers! “get along there, pete. get along, i say. pete, you lop-eared wangdoddle! quit draggin’ that other bronc around! hear me? dodgast your hide, i’ll blow your fool head right off your worthless carcass if you don’t quit that. you will, will you? how do you like the feel of that? now we’re off! at-a-baby, get goin’! so long, boys! you, pete! gosh darn your senseless hide, i’ll—” the rest was lost. “he loves ’em like brothers!” shouted the kid, holding his sides with laughter. ‘ ‘ oh, boy! billee dobb’s story _ wouldn’t have said a word. i thought you were telling us about your indigestion.” “go ahead—go ahead! i’ll get you some- time, nort. billee, do you think it’s nice to rim me around like that?” “do you good,” billee said with a grin. “when i was young an’ worked out with a bunch from two-bar cross—the roughest outfit you ’d ever laid eyes on—i wasn’t let to open my mouth without someone hoppin’ down my throat. that was a gang, let me tell you!” “they were the old-fashioned punchers, weren’t they?” dick asked, winking at the kid. “the kind that used a buck-strap and ate his cofiee out of a frying-pan." “buck-strap! buck—say, boy, if -any man on that there two-bar cross outfit ever heard you speak of a buck-strap they wouldn’t know what you was talkin’ about. no, sir! those boys were rough customers.” a buck-strap is a leather thong fastened to the saddle in such a way that if the pony sud- denly bucks, its rider can hold himself on by inserting his hand within this thong and pulling hard. the user of one of these contraptions is never proud of it, needless to say. “you used to work a lot in the summer, didn’t you, billee?” the kid asked with a concealed grin. “yes, and in the winter, too. mostly in the winter. i remember one time?-” boy ranchers on roaring river _ snow, until every blessed one of them dropped, and died where it fell. first the little calves. then the mothers, wh ’d stick by their babies until they died, too. then the cows of the herd who weren’t so strong. an’ last, some big, proud long-horn would drop in his tracks an’ die. an’ there wouldn’t be nothin’ left of the herd except dots in the snow along the path. that ’s what we call a drift. “i knew if they ever started driftin’ i couldn't save them. i could try to turn them by rushin’ my bronc into them, but it wouldn’t do no good. it needs at least six men to do that job. an’ even then, if they once get well started, i don’t think they’d turn aside fer nothin’. so i just sat on my pony an’ waited. the snow kept gettin’ higher, and the wind colder an’ colder. the cows were moanin’ heavy now. i saw ’em shift once or twice, an’ my heart went in my throat, but they settled down once more to just breathin’ hard. how i did hope that joe made the ranch. i sort of felt that if help didn’t come soon the drift would start. it takes so long for a cow to get the idea she wants to move, and when she gets the notion into her head, her legs start goin’ them- selves, an’ keep goin’ until something bigger and stronger than she is stops her. i knew that the only thing would stop this bunch, once they started, would be death. “all of a sudden the moanin’ of the cattle _ bud’s escape _ by the villains. bang—bang—another indian bit the dust! anyway, i’m glad we ’re out of that mess. what was the idea of the whole thing, anyhow? “don ’t see what they wanted with me. and ‘to-morrow night’! evidently they figure on some sort of dirty work. now that they know i’ve heard part of their plans they may not pull anything.” ofi in the distance bud could now see the buildings of shooting star. as he rode up, the kid was nailing a board to the lower part of the ranch house, and had his back to bud. he turned swiftly as he heard the hoof-beats of bud ’s horse. “come in—come in!” he called. “have a good trip? how are all the babies—and aunt sarah? you must be plumb worn out, ridin' all the way from arken-saw on a hot day like this.” “quit your kidding,” bud answered with a smile. ‘ ‘when i tell you what did happen you ’ll think i have a good right to be worn out. first, though, is there any chuck left?” “what—they didn’t even feed you? well now, i thought you ’d had a chicken dinner. sure, bud, come on in, an’ we ’ll get mex on the job.” the best they could do in the culinary line on short notice was beans, but bud filled up bud’s escape _ “well, that means they’re going to take a chance on going through with their plan, be- cause they can ’t get word to the other side that this place has changed hands. an’ they won’t stop because they caught you listenin’.” “say, you might be right at that, kid. that ’s going some, though, to push things like that, when they know their plan has been overheard. of course i didn’t actually hear it all, but i heard enough to know it has something to do with this ranch. and the time is to-morrow night.” “that will hurry up the deputy ’s idea, won ’t it? if things break right, we might have a chance to collect that reward.” “let’s not think about that now. what we have to do is to get hold of the rest and tell them what happened, and ask mr. hawkins if this will change his plan. he ’s in town, isn’t he?” “should be. dick’ll know—he rode in with him.” ' “say, kid, before i forget it—i heard some- thing that didn’t sound so good about that mexican cook of ours. delton let slip the hint that he was one of his men—didn’t exactly say that, but he led me to believe he was.” “did, hey? well, i’ve been kind of sus- picious of that greaser ever since we found him here alone, when the rest had beat it. don’t seem reasonable that one man would stay at a boy ranchers on roaring river _ ranch that has been cleaned out, unless he had some business there. delton’s idea may have been to let him stay and spy on us. think we ought to kick him out?” “that means we’ve got to find another cook. n o, i think it will be all right to let him stay if we watch him carefully. he sure is one peach of a cook—i’ll say that for him—and i don’t think he ’d deliberately try to poison us.” “oh, i’m not afraid of that. of course we could make him taste each dish he cooks for us, like they do in stories, but he’d sure suspect something then. i believe in keeping a secret to yourself.” “you mean not letting him know we suspect him?” “yep! that’s it. we can watch him if he doesn’t know he ’s bein’ watched, but as soon as he knows we got something on him, we ’re through.” “you’re right about that, kid. say, where did you say the others were?” “in town. ought to be back soon, though. billee dobb is around some place in back. vvant to see him? ” “n , i’ll wait till nort and dick get here and spill it all at once. let’s go out.” ‘ the two arose and walked toward the yard. as they passed through the door the kid looked sharply about him, but the mexican cook was nowhere in sight. his lesson had been learned bud’s escape _ when the kid had caught him listening before. they hadn’t long to wait before they heard the approach of two riders. dick and nort had returned. “something happened,” nort exclaimed after he had dismounted. “how do you know?” bud asked with wide- open eyes. “i mean to us. why, did something happen to you, too?” “i’ll tell you about it in a minute. let ’s hear your story first.” “not much of a story,” dick said. “we saw delton.” “you did! where?” “you remember that water hole the kid found the chinaman at?” “yes—go ahead!” “well, n ort and i decided to take another look at it on our second trip back from town, so we rode over. it isn’t so far from here. and as we reached it—only about an hour ago— we saw a group of men talking. we rode up easy, but they heard us and beat it. we saw one of them, though. it was delton.” ‘ ‘and do you know what he was doing there ? ” bud asked with a quizzical smile. “what?” “chasing me! i found the water hole, too, and something else and this delton dragged me for miles and locked me in a room. then i got boy ranchers on roaring river _ the latter spoke of one tentatively engaged and told the kid his new horse would be sent over in a day or so. the remainder of the day went quickly. when evening came the boys were excitedly making plans for the following night. after “chuck” they gathered around the table in the sitting room and discussed ways and means. the kid was in favor of drastic action. “no, we’ve got to go slowly,” dick cau- tioned. “this isn’t strictly our afiair, you know. the government is interested in it. and it ’s anything but a joking matter. the other adventures we had—at spur creek and in the desert—were our own concern entirely. this is different. hawkins hasn’t said so, but i think it means a lot to him if we aid in cap- turing the smugglers.” “thought you were out here to herd sheep?” billee dobb put in. “we were—at first. but there ’s no use try- ing to dodge the issue—from now on until this business is finished, we have one job on hand— to help stop chink smuggling. the sheep can wait.” “that ’s the stuff!” yellin’ kid burst out. “i was waitin’ to hear you say that, dick. might as well look things in the face! we ’ve gotten too deep into this to drag freight now!” “you ’re right, kid,” approved bud. “and truth to tell, i’m not a bit sorry. i don’t care a night of waiting : _ time this afternoon. may bring a friend with me--larry o’connor—one sweet shot with a revolver. that is if i think we need him.” “well, we’ve got five men all told,” dick declared. “and all of us are fairly used to handling guns. target practice at tin cans keeps your eye in, and we do lots of that.” “good idea, if you can afford the money for ammunition. never know when you ’ll need to rely on a well-placed shot.” “are you just going to ride over to the ranch openly?” bud asked. “won’t someone see you?” “even if they do, they won’t suspect any- thing. but to make sure i’ll wait until after dark. guess that would be best. no attempt will be made until well on into the night, and we’ll have plenty of time to get set for them.” “then we ’ll see you to-night?” inquired dick as he arose. “sure thing! oh, by the way—keep an eye on that mex cook of yours, will you? i want him where i can grab him quick if i need him. ” “we will. good-bye until to-night, mr. hawkins.” “so-long, boys.” bud and dick rode back to the shooting star. as soon as possible they told the others of their talk with hawkins, and of his being a secret service ofiicial. billee dobb said he “opined as much long ago.” boy ranchers on roaring river _ _ the day dragged on. the boys were all slightly nervous, though they wouldn’t admit it. several times one would catch the other fingering his gun unconsciously. but evening finally came, and while they were eating supper joe hawkins arrived. he was alone. “thought you were going to bring someone with you?” bud said when the greetings were over. “decided it wasn’t necessary. “we’ve got plenty here. now, boys, are you all set?” “all set!” the kid said loudlyo “bring ’em on!” “they’ll come without us bringing them,” hawkins declared a trifle grimly. “turn that lamp low, dick, and let ’s get out of here.” “what about the mex?” inquired the kid. “bring him along,” the agent declared. “want him where i can keep an eye on him.” in spite of his wordless protests, the cook was dragged out of the kitchen and made to accompany the punchers to a place near the side of the house. and there the six men watched, each with his hand on his gun and with ears strained for the sound of a car. there was a road which ran past the ranch and into the town. it was over this road that the watch- ing men expected the smugglers to come. and now all settled down to a night of waiting. chapter xviii smneenme ornmtrons ardly a breath of wind stirred. the h sky had become partly clouded, blotting out the moon. now and then a horse whinnied, softly, as though frightened. the waiting men moved about uneasily, talking in whispers. nine o ’clock passed. then ten came. the air grew chill and damp, and the clouds overhead gathered more thickly. “gonna rain,” said the kid in a low voice. “we sure are favorites with the weather man.” “may hold off,” bud observed softly. he moved over to where hawkins was standing, eyes peering down the road. “what do you think of it?” he asked the agent. “not much,” was the quiet answer. “looks like rain. that means we ’ll have a hard job to see them when they do come.” “hey, the mex wants to go back,” the kid said, lowering his voice. “he ’s cold, i guess.” “you tell him to stay where he is, or he ’ll be colder yet,” hawkins said in a grim voice. ‘ ‘we sm u gglin g opera ti on s & _ poor critter is almost scared out of his wits. he may have a bad brother, but i think he’s o. k. himself. i’ll watch him for you. over here, mex!” he ordered sharply. the cook walked slowly over to billee, and squatted down beside him. he looked up at the old rancher as a calf might look for protection to a cow. “i’ll depend on you to see that he doesn’t pull any funny work,” hawkins said to billee. “when the show starts we’ll have our hands full, and we don ’t want any slip-ups.” yet they could not afford to give up now. if things worked out as the agent had hoped, they might succeed in arresting delton and his gang. “and that reward will come in right handy,” billee dobb said. “will we really get a reward if we capture these smugglers?” nort asked hawkins. “you certainly will! and the government will be glad to pay it, too.” “i don ’t care so much about the reward as i do about getting delton,” declared bud, as he remembered how he was mistreated at the hands of the smuggler. “an’ i’d like to get my bronc back,” yellin’ kid asserted, as he moved his arms briskly about to warm himself. the night wore on, minutes seeming like hours. billee dobb stood motionless, leaning against the side of the ranch house, and at his boy ranchers on roaring river _ feet sat the mexican, seemingly oblivious of the cold. hawkins moved slowly about, glancing every now and then down the road. the others stood about, talking in low tones. the storm seemed to have been blown aside, as the rumble of thunder no longer reached the ears of the waiting men. still the moon was covered with clouds, making the night almost pitch-black. a soft glow from the low-turned lamp within the ranch house was the only illumination. “say, i’m goin’ to take a walk around to the corral,” exclaimed the kid suddenly. “this waitin’ is gettin’ me woozy. just want to see if the ponies are all right.” “watch your step,” bud cautioned. “it’s pretty dark. and don ’t make too much noise.” “i ain’t goin’ on any picnic,” yellin’ kid answered. “be back soon.” he left the protection of the house and in a moment was lost sight of in the darkness. it wasn’t far to the corral, and as he approached the horses stirred uneasily. “all right there, ponies,” the kid called softly. at the sound of a familiar voice the restless moving stopped, and the animals suf- fered the kid to walk in among them. “lonesome, hey?” he said in a low tone. “so am i. don’t like this hangin’ around nohow! wish we’d have some action.” he stroked the nose of one of the steeds. the horse whinnied softly in response. “wish i had my own sm u gglin g operations _ “you want n ort an’ me to watch the road in the other direction?” asked the kid. “yes—and we ’ll be here when they unload the chinks. all right now?” “all set! let’s go, nort!” yellin’ kid and nort ran swiftly to the other side of the ranch house, in which position they would be hidden from sight of the road until they chose to show themselves. billee dobb went around to the corral. the oncoming car was plunging along the road, and would reach the shooting star ranch in another minute. it couldn’t be seen, due to the blackness of the night—the clouds seemed to have thickened in the last few minutes—but the noise was suflicient indication of its approach. the six men awaited its arrival with breathless excitement. if the plan only worked! delton would surely show up sooner or later, he couldn’t risk too long a delay—and the capture would be complete. the boys felt their hearts beating fast as the moment approached. guns were out now, and ready for action. suddenly another sound came to the ears of the waiting ones—the sound of rapid hoof-beats. those on the farther side of the house from where the car was coming peered down the road in the direction of town. they held their breaths. “hear it?” the kid asked excitedly of nort. “horses! and coming this way! it must be _ ‘ chapter xix the chase hrough the darkness came many and i varied sounds. the thunder rolled long and continuously. the angry voices of men rose loud and hoarse. along the drenched road came the smugglers’ car, its exhaust roar- ing. and over all the rain came down in torrents. “out of the way there, you!” came a voice. “we ain’t got no time for foolin’!” ‘ “stick to it, nort!” the kid yelled. “don’t let them through!” the two boys were standing in the middle of the road, guns out, determined to prevent delton andhis men from closing in on hawkins, who was grimly awaiting the smuggling car. if they could be held off until the auto pulled in and stopped, the party at the other side of the ranch house might succeed in capturing the chink runners. there was a sudden shot. “hurt, nort?” the kid called anxiously. “nope! missed! put those guns up, you! o boy ranchers on roaring river _ we ’ve got you covered! climb down off those horses quick, or we ’ll fill you full of holes!” there was a desperate ring in the boy rancher’s voice, and delton must have recog- nized this, for he yelled something to the men back of him and they all halted. the thunder was less frequent now, although the rain had not let up. the boys standing in the road were soaked to the skin. still they remained firmly in their place, listening to the roar of the ap- proaching car, and hoping they could hold delton until it reached the ranch. by the sound it was almost to the shooting star ranch now. in another moment—— “hey, you guys, what ’s the idea?” through the night came a questioning voice. ‘ ‘ don ’t you know it’s rainin’ here? how about lettin’ us in the ranch to get dry?” “you stay where you are!” the kid yelled. “_yli>tu! have plenty o’ time to get drry all rig “kid—here’s the car! watch out now!” nort was at the kid’s side, but facing the other way. “can you see anything—any of delton’s bunch?” “n ope—only hear that guy that was talking! can ou?” “n¥o but—what’s that?” from the other side of the house came three shots in rapid succession. then someone yelled. the chase _ the next moment dick came splashing around to where the kid and nort were waiting. “ they—they fooled us!” dick panted. “del- ton and three others got to the car before we did and warned the smugglers! they all got away!” “delton!” the kid exclaimed. “why, we had him here-” “yes you did !” came a mocking voice. “you big cheese—all you had was a good talk! so long!” there was the splashing noise of a horse rapidly departing for parts unknown. ‘ ‘ can—you—beat—that ! ’ ’ nort ejaculated. “fooled! taken in like suckers! while we stood here talking———” “yes, and while we’re standing here talking now, the smugglers are getting farther and farther away! come on! we ’ve got to chase them!” dick turned and made for the corral. “chase an auto on a horse?” the kid yelled. “what ’s the sense of that?” “they can ’t go fast in this wet—and we can spot them by the noise. hurry up!” “but i ain’t got no pony!” wailed the kid. “wish i had my bronc! what am i supposed to do; stay here?” “no—one of delton’s bunch lost his seat and we’ve got his animal—use that. he got away in the auto. but for the love of pete, hurry upva the rain had abated a little when the boys boy ranchers on roaring river _ _ reached the corral. billee dobb was waiting with the ponies untied and ready. it was but the work of a moment to mount and lead the other horses over to where hawkins and bud were standing. “where ’s my new bronc?” the kid asked as he came up. “here— this do you?” bud was holding a little black pony. “sure—as long as it’s got legs!” the kid swung himself upon the horse ’s back. “right! let ’s go !” “we ’ve no time to lose men!” hawkins called out. “we messed that up proper! this delton is more clever than i thought he was.” all were mounted now and ready to take up the chase. the kid was letting his pony walk about, and the rest were awaiting hawkins ’s word to start. the six riders set out into the night. haw- kins said the car had taken a route at right angles and to the left of the road, and all went in that direction. they pushed their ponies as fast as they dared over the soaked prairie, hoping to catch sight of the car before they had ridden too far. it was obvious that no auto could make great speed over the rough surface of the plains, and to add to this rain must certainly slow them up still more. so the punchers had a fairly good chance of over- taking them. delton would probably be acting the chase _ as convoy to the car, and if they were able to take that, they would capture him also. with these thoughts in mind the ranchers beat along through the rain, which was not now so heavy. “what happened,” asked billee dobb. “just this,” bud answered. “mr. hawkins and i were waiting for the car to reach us. we couldn’t hear what was happening on the other side of the house, and mr. hawkins and i were all set to grab the gang in it, when four men came riding by like mad and reached the ear before we did. they yelled something, and in a second the car was ofl the road and away, the horsemen after it. but one of the riders fell, and didn’t wait to get on his horse again— just hopped on the running board of the car.” “what were those cracks we heard?” “i took a couple of pot-shots at the tires, but i don’t think i hit anything. too dark. and it was raining cats and dogs, you know.” “don’t i know it! nort an’ me sure had our hands full. five men to stop! we figured if we could hold them until you had the fellows in the car covered, we could capture them too. say, see any chinks in the car?” “didn’t see anything! the car turned off before we could get close enough to see in it.” “too bad we couldn’t work it, boys.” hawkins ruefully said. “we ’ve still got a chance to nab them, though. they can ’t get far over this ground with a car. ’ ’ boy ranchers on roaring river _ “they can lead us a merry chase,” dick asserted. “wonder what time it is?” “one o’clock,” bud suggested. “not much more, anyway. think they came over this way, mr. hawkins?” “yes—i do. know where we are?” ‘ ‘ comin ’ to the water hole, i think, ” answered yellin’ kid. “say, maybe they ’re going to try and make for the place where they held me!” bud ex- claimed. “that’s over this way somewhere.” “can you find it again?” the agent asked, an anxious note in his voice. “think so.” “then if we don’t make out to-night we can have a try at that in the morning.” “how far do you want to go?” bud asked hawkins. “let ’s see now. i have an idea, and i want to see what you fellows think about it. first, though, are you sure that you can find that ranch where they held you, bud?” “can in daylight. maybe not at night.” “if you started from the water hole do you think you could spot it at night?” “might. i could try it, anyway.” “hold up a minute, then.” the six riders drew rein, and waited for the agent ’s next words. “it’s not much use trailing them much farther. what i think they did, is to make for the chase _ that ranch house where bud was, and stay there. now here ’s the point. even if we did come upon them now, we ’d have a hard job taking them. i think this is a better plan. listen, now. ” the boys drew closer around hawkins. “this idea i have calls for two men to stay up all night. who ’ll do it?” cl ! “let me in on that!” “what is it—keeping guard?” ‘ ‘yes, nort, that ’s exactly what it is—keeping guard. now here’s the dope. we followed that bunch pretty far. there’s no doubt but that they headed for that house, and intend to unload their chinks there. now if we can only keep them in that house until morning, we can get the whole gang—including the chinks—like rats in a trap. now do you see what i mean‘? ” “you mean you want some of us to watch the place and do a little shootin’ so that they won ’t come out?” “that ’s it exactly, kid! if two men can get close to the house, and keep firing at intervals, they ’ll think that we’ve got them cold, and will stay there long enough to allow us to get them by morning.” “what ’s the matter with all of us going up there now?” “wouldn’t do any good, and besides, some- one has got to be at your ranch. and some of boy ranchers on roaring river _ _ us have got to get a little sleep. we may have to do some more riding to-morrow.” “well, if you think that ’s best, i’ll do it, for one,” spoke dick. “and i’ll go with you!” bud exclaimed. “i owe delton quite a good deal for the way he hauled me ofl’ my horse ” “all set for this new plan then?” asked billee. “yes, i think that would be best,” hawkins said slowly. “bud, you know something about the lay-out of the place. we ’ll ride part of the way with you, in case anything happens. then when we get near it, you ’ll have to go on alone. you and dick can decide on a plan of action. we will ride back, and return before dawn. this time we won’t fail!” “you’ll ride with us to the place now, you mean?” “almost to it. then i’ll know the way to find it again. come on, let ’s get started!” the moon was now struggling to shine through the clouds as the six took up the ride again. bud was in the lead. they had ridden for ten minutes when, suddenly, bud uttered an exclamation, and pulled up his horse. “look there!” he cried, pointing. ahead loomed a dark mass. the boys rode up to it. as they approached slowly the moon finally came out fully, and before them they saw the wreck of an automobile. chapter xx down and out “ t’s a car!” dick cried. “must be the i smugglers’ machine, and they wrecked it and got away! now we know they’re at that ranch!” “wonder what happened to the chinks?” the kid said as he examined the wreck more closely. the mass of twisted metal lay still in the moon- light like some once-living thing that had met its sudden doom. “probably dragged them along too,” haw- kins suggested. “yep, i think this is the smugglers’ car, all right. looks like the one we had a short glimpse of, just before it turned ofl’. and, if that ’s the case, our plan may suc- ceed. having a harbor close at hand, it’s natural for them to make for it. now it ’s up to us to see that they stay there until we capture them.” “that’s our job, and we’ll do it too,” bud said in a determined tone of voice. “might as well get going. the longer we stay here, the more time we give delton.” “true enough,” commented dick. “i won- der if anyone was hurt when this car crashed?” : boy ranchers on roaring river _ “doubt it,” hawkins said. “those boys are too lucky! if they weren’t they never would have gotten away with the stunt they pulled to- night. imagine riding right into our hands and getting away from us! every time i think of it i feel like kicking myself around the block.” “it wasn’t any more your fault than the fault of the rest of us,” n ort declared. “they were too many, and too clever. let ’s forget it and go after them again, and this time we’ll win. what do you say, boys?” “sure will!” “no more foolin’ around for us!” “well, on our way,” bud called. he took one more look at the auto lying on its side in a small depression, and spurred his horse onward. the rest followed quickly. the night was well spent, now, and but little time remained to reach the ranch and post the guard. however, it was not far now, and by dint of hard riding, following directions from bud, they reached the vicinity of the ranch house in half an hour. they halted well away from the house itself. “take it easy now,” hawkins cautioned. “we don ’t want to make too much noise. bud, have you and dick decided what you ’re to do? ” “practically—he is going to take one side, and i ’m to take the other, and if we see anyone come out we’ll fire over their heads. that ’ll keep ’em in all right, for they can’t see us in the dark. no one likes to be fired on by someone he can ’t down and out _ see—as we all found out. now it ’s time to give them some of their own medicine.” “yes sir!” exclaimed the kid. “i wish i could stay with you, dick, and have a crack at them myself.” “you come along with us, kid. we ’ll be back before dawn, and you’ll see plenty of action then. now is there anything you boys want be- fore we leave?” asked the secret service man. “might bring back a snack for us,” bud sug- gested. “it ’s cold and hungry work waiting in the dark. not that we mind it,” he added quickly, “as long as it helps capture delton. and if you can make it, mr. hawkins, please get back as soon as you can. they may try to make a rush for it.” “we will —we’ll be back as soon as we get things right at the ranch and maybe snatch an hour’s rest. depends on how much time we have. but qwe’ll surely be back before it’s light.” - this conversation was being carried on near a small group of trees, just out of sight of the old farm or ranch house. now hawkins and the rest turned their ponies toward home. dick and bud, of course, were due to remain and watch delton’s retreat. “now we’re on our own,” bud said as he listened to the hoof-beats of the horses gradu- ally dying away. “let’s get up to where we can see the house.” boy ranchers on roaring river _ “what about the broncs? think we better leave them?” “well, what do you think? we want them near us so we can get going quick if we have to. suppose we tie them as close to the house as we can without being seen?” “that ’s a good idea. well, there ’s the place. somebody’s sure in it. all lit up!” the boys stood and looked at the old farm house which loomed in the moonlight before them. it was certainly inhabited, for several lights were glowing on the ground floor, and every now and then a figure would pass in front of the lamps, casting a shadow plainly visible from the outside. “got a lot of nerve, walking around like that in front of lamps, ’ ’ bud commented. ‘ ‘easy to take a pot-shot at them.” “guess they don ’t figure us as the kind for that sort of thing,” dick responded. “and we’re not, either—though it would serve them right if someone did let ride at the window.” the two boys now took up their positions agreed upon—dick around to the left, and bud to the right. they were thus separated from each other by about three hundfed yards. “mustn’t start thinking foolish things!” dick exclaimed to himself. “got enough on my mind now.” he shook his head as though to rid it of fancies which hung around it. the boy down and out _ was certainly not of a morbid type, and it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be a bit uneasy, considering his situation. yet he would not even admit to himself that he was anything but wholly composed. “wonder how bud is making out?” he thought. “perhaps i’d better sneak over and see. but no, there’s no sense in that.” thus did he dismiss the craving for company. “be- sides, i’ve got my job cut out for me here.” he looked more intently at the house, seeking to concentrate his attention on the everyday affairs of life. smuggling. the reward if they caught delton. what they could do with it. a new herd of cows. the kid’s bronc—whether he would see it again. how delton timed the arrival at the shooting star ranch just when the smuggling car got there. the getaway. how it did rain! still, in spite of himself, that uneasy feeling was stealing over the boy. surely there was no one around but bud, away over on the other side. of course it was night, but there was plenty of moonlight, and there was not much chance of delton’s men prowling about. per- haps it was because there were trees back of him that dick felt restless. might be better to move more out in the open. the boy arose, then suddenly froze into still- ness. that peculiar feeling that there was someone behind him became stronger. boy ranchers on roaring river _ it seemed as though a pair of eyes were boring into his back. he listened intently. suddenly he heard a voice. “hey, dick!” the boy turned swiftly, hand on his gun, every nerve a quiver! “it ’s me, dick! billee dobb!” what a relief! the boy now recognized the old rancher ’s voice, and the next moment billee appeared, walking as noiselessly as possible. “what on earth are you doing here, billee?” “i decided to come back. didn’t want to miss all the fun.” “yes, but you weren’t supposed to, were you?” “i told hawkins, an’ he said go ahead. so here i am.” “so i see.” dick could now afford to laugh at his foolish fears. “but let me tell you, you gave me a thrill for a moment. now that you ’re here, what are you going to do?” “watch with you. that ’s what i came back for.” “nice of you to do it, billee. what time is it, do you know?” “ ’bout two. lots of time yet.” the rancher was observing the activity within the old house. nothing could be seen but the passing and re-passing of the figures in front of the windows, but for some reason it appeared that more persons were moving about. down and out _ “looks as though something was goin’ to happen,” billee commented in a low voice. “think so? well, we’ve just got to wait, that ’s all.” the time passed slowly. billee and dick were observing the situation within the house as best they might, without necessarily exposing them- selves. “say, dick,” said the veteran rancher after an hour that seemed like a year, “i’m goin’ to investigate. ’ ’ “what do you mean?” “i’m a-goin’ up and have a look inside an’ see what ’s happenin’.” “i don’t know, billee—they might spot you and let ride with some lead.” “don’t worry about that, dick. they ’ll never know i’m there. now you wait here an’ i’ll be right back.” “well, for the love of pete, be careful! we don ’t want anything to go wrong. ” “ n othin ’s goin’ wrong. now you wait.” billee dobb moved softly in the direction of the ranch house, walking so easily it seemed as though he were stepping on wool. unlike most other punchers, who spend most of their time on horseback, billee was exceptionally surefooted. much tramping about the country did that for him, and there were some who said he had been active in indian warfare, long ago. boy ranchers on roaring river _ he would be the first to deny this, however, as it would add too much to his age. so while dick waited impatiently, the rancher went toward the house, shoulders low, making himself as inconspicuous as possible. the dis- tance between the house and where dick was waiting was not far, but it was all open, and with the moon lighting up the scene almost like day, a person crossing might be easily seen. nearer and nearer billee crept. dick could see him picking his way like a dancer, so that he might step on no branch or twig which would break and give him away. now he was ahnost at the side of the house. dick saw him lean forward and cautiously peer in the window. then it happened. dick saw a flash of fire from within the room, and the roar of a gun awakened the stillness of the night. billee staggered back. he fell to the ground, but was up in a moment, and ran swaying toward dick. the door of the house flew open, and a man with a gun in his hand burst out on the porch. like a flash dick had his gun out and fired. the man ducked back as the bullet struck the side of the house with a resounding “ping!” with a supreme effort billee reached the shelter of the trees. dick ran to him. the old man’s face was twisted with pain, and he sank to the earth. “dick—dick—” he gasped, “they got me! they got me! i’m down—and—out!’ ’ chapter xxi onosmo in ort, mr. hawkins and yellin’ kid rode m as fast as they might toward the shoot- ing star. it was their intention to reach the ranch and return as soon as possible, after having taken a bite to eat. the idea of resting was given up as the hours flew by. it seemed no time at all before the stars grew dull, and the gray fingers of dawn spread out in the east. “have to hurry,” hawkins commented as he fumbled around in the dark kitchen of the ranch. “where in thunder is that lamp? haven ’t you got one out here?” “sure—i think so,” nort answered. “have to hunt for it, though. i’m not so certain of my ground here. it ’s all new to me, you know. ’ ’ “well, it’s not in the corner, that’s sure. let’s have another match, kid. ah, here we are!” the soft illumination of an oil lamp flooded the room. “got any non-exploding sand in this machine, nort?” “vvhat’s that?” “it’s something the gold-brick artists used to sell to farmer’s wives to keep lamps from i| boy ranchers on roaring river _ exploding. nothing but plain ordinary sand, but the directions that came with it said to always keep the lamp clean, not to put too much oil in it, trim the wick, and so forth. then put the sand in and the lamp would never explode. of course it wouldn’t, if the directions were fol- lowed. but the sand didn’t help any. it was the cleaning that did the trick. yet the buyer bought peace of mind and security for ten cents, so the game wasn’t so bad as it sounds." “pretty good!” the kid laughed. “never heard of that trick before, but a feller was out here last year sellin’ an electric belt, guaranteed to take off ten pounds. all you had to do was to live on bread an’ water for five days an’ run two miles every morning, wearin’ the electric belt. didn’t do no business here, though, ’cause most of the boys wanted to put on weight, not lose it.” “some graft,” hawkins declared. “well, that ’s neither here nor there. find that bread and meat, n ort ‘i ’ ’ “yep. got it all fixed up. say, by the way, i wonder where that mex cook of ours went?” “that ’s so too!” exclaimed hawkins, as they hurriedly ate a lunch. “forgot all about him in the excitement. no use looking for him now, i suppose. he may turn up. ” “then again he may not,” the kid spoke grimly. “we ’re well rid of him, i think. don ’t like them greasers nohow, and this one was no ~i closing in _ “make it?” n ort called to the kid. “ sure! coming to the water hole now.” the kid ’s thoughts were racing along, keep- ing pace with the horses’ flying feet. as is the case when one is engaged in work of a monoto- nous nature, such as riding, one ’s thoughts seem to whirl about in a circle, the same subjects re- curring with regularity. the kid was thinldng about his lost bronco. then delton. then the reward. then back to the bronco again. and all the while the miles were disappearing behind him. suddenly the kid pulled his mount to a. stop. “wait!” he cautioned. “isn’t that where we left bud, just ahead?” a group of trees rose in front. they had a familiar aspect. “sure looks like it!” hawkins agreed. “let’s take it easy. kid, you lead, and go slow.” the three walked their horses toward the trees. as they came nearer, they made certain that they had reached their destination. and just in time. the sky was graying rapidly. “you two wait here, and hold my new bronc,” yellin’ kid directed softly, “an’ i’ll go around on foot. see how the land lays. all right, mr. hawkins?” “all right, kid. go ahead. then come back and tell us.” the kid dismounted and handed his bridle boy ranchers on roaring river _ rein to nort. then he walked carefully into the trees, and disappeared from view. “see some action soon,” hawkins declared. he and nort were waiting on their horses about three hundred yards from where the kid had disappeared into the trees. “the old ranch house is right back there. and this time i want to make sure of getting the whole gang.” “don’t you-think they figured we followed them, and are all set for us!” “maybe. can ’t help that. but i’m not so sure, nort—you know they had to get those chinks to a place of safety. couldn’t let them wander around loose. and this was the only place they could go to. they had no choice. and whether they figured we’d follow or not, they had to dig in here.” “ they sure got away neat before,” nort said, as he thought of the escape. “and if they hadn’t wrecked their auto we’d probably never have seen them again. now we ’ve got a chance.” “yes, and a little more than a chance. won- der what ’s keeping the kid. told him to come right back.” “and here he comes—runnin’!” exclaimed nort suddenly, as a figure burst into sight. “something must be the matter!” they spurred their horses toward the kid, and met him half way. “vvhat is it?” hawkins asked sharply. closing in _ “billee dobb ! ” yellin’ kid panted. “he ’s—” it was an ominous pause. “not so loud! easy!” “it’s billee!” the kid exclaimed in a lower voice. “they shot him!” “shot him! is he dead?” “not yet. looks pretty bad. bleedin’ hard. by golly, let ’s go after those yellow sneaks, an’ get ’em!” ’ “shot billee dobb,” nort said slowly, as though he couldn’t believe it. “poor old billee! well—” he looked up sharply. ‘ ‘let ’s go!” the boy’s lips were closed grimly. in his eyes shone a wild light. whatever quarter would have been extended to the smugglers be- fore, they could expect none now. the chase had turned—had changed into a personal ven- ture. they had been seeking the capture of the smugglers because it had been their duty. now “men,” hawkins spoke in a low voice, clip- ping his words, “let’s get started. we got work to do!” there was not another word spoken. belts were tightened, and guns loosened in their hol- sters. dawn was just breaking. the three men closed in on the ranch house in silence. _ chapter xxii flying bullets inally nort spoke. “what about billee?” he asked. “dick’s taking care of him as best he can. poor old geezer—” the kid bit his lip sharply. “he told me—he was sorry it happened, ’cause now he ’ll miss the fun.” “how did he look, kid? i mean——” “can’t tell, nort. he ’s hit pretty bad. course we don’t know for sure—he’s pretty old, you know ” “but tough as a board,” hawkins broke in. “i know his kind. don’t worry boys. i’m sure he ’ll pull through o. k. kid, is bud coming with us?” “said he ’d be right here. want to wait ’til he comes, before going closer?” there was a halt in the determined march toward the ranch house. there seemed to be but little formal plan in the boys ’.attack; simply to “get those guys an’ get ’em good,” as the kid expressed it. but now that the first shock of learning of billee’s wound had passed, all realized how hopeless it would be to simply go _ _ flying bullets _ up and take delton. some sort of a scheme of attack was necessary if anything was to be accomplished. “here’s bud now,” hawkins said as the boy rancher rode toward them. there was a sober look on his face. “how goes it?” the kid asked, anxiously. “pretty fair. he ’s got a chance, i think. bleeding’s stopped. dick's got him covered up with a saddle blanket over there a ways. if i get a crack at delton—'—” “how ’d it happen, bud?” asked hawkins quickly. it was evident that he wanted the boys to control themselves. it was dangerous work they were about to start, and thought must be clear and quick, unimpeded by external circumstance. “from what i gather from dick, billee sneaked up to take a look in one of the windows, and someone snipped him. he just made the shelter of the trees and fell unconscious.” “well, men, that means we have an additional reason for taking delton.” mr. hawkins looked about him to be sure all were listening. in the east the red rim of the morning sun was bulging over the horizon. the time for action had come. “nort, come over here a minute, will you‘ ! hold my bridle rein while i see if i’ve got that paper with me. ” the boy, wondering a little, seized the rein while hawkins went through his pockets. the boy ranchers on roaring river _ agent’s eyes were riveted on nort’s hand. it was as steady as a rock. “never mind—guess i won’t need it. all right.” hawkins took the reins from the boy, satisfied by his little ruse that nort was not afiected by his lack of sleep. the business before them called for a firm hand and nerve. hawkins was speaking in a low voice. “can you men all hear what i’m saying! if not, get closer. now listen. we ’ve got to figure this thing out, or fail again. and if we don’t take delton this time, i’m afraid we never will. at least that ’s the way it seems to me. here’s what i thought. we’ll ask him to surrender and come with us peaceably. we are bound to do that. they know by this time that we are on their heels, and can cause trouble for them if they attempt an escape now. i believe they’ll bide their time, and make a rush for it. that ’s what we have to be ready for. i’m going up there with a flag of truce, and demand that they give in to the law.” the agent dismounted and, drawing his gun, he tied to the barrel of it a white handkerchief. “you mean to say you ’re goin’ to walk right up there in broad daylight, after what they did to billee?” yellin’ kid askedz in a tone of surprise. “i am. it’s my duty. besides, it’s safe enough. no one but a fool would shoot a man bearing a white flag, when they ’re in delton’s flying bullets _ position. it ’ll go hard enough with them as it is. i have an idea they might agree to come peace- ably. ‘ ‘well i haven ’t, ” the kid said grimly. “the only way we ’ll get those skunks out of their hole is to pull them out!” ' hawkins shrugged his shoulders and pre- pared to set out. they all walked to the edge of the trees, and just as the sun burst forth in all its glory hawkins started across the open space toward the ranch house. the boys watched him with anxious eyes. would he cross safely, or would he be shot down like a dog! there was no sign from the ranch house. all activity had ceased as though the occupants had been frozen into stillness. nearer and nearer walked the agent, head up, the gun with the handkerchief tied on it held in front of him. still there was no sign of life inside the house. when the agent reached within ten feet of the place, the boys saw him stop and look closely at the quiet house. “hey, you!” he yelled. “nervy guy,” the kid commented, “he might easily get creased, standin’ there yellin’. he, i wouldn ’t put it past that bunch ! ” suddenly a window flew up and a head poked out. it was a stranger, none of the boys ever having seen the fellow before. “what do you want?” the man demanded in a truculent tone. boy ranchers on roaring river _ “i call upon you to surrender, in the name of the law!” said hawkins. “you what?” without waiting for an answer, the head drew in but the window re- mained open. in a moment the head reappeared. “w'hat are you talking about? why should we surrender?” “you ’re under arrest for smuggling, and for assault and battery with intent to kill!” “you don ’t say!” the head popped in. then in a moment—— “who are you—john law?” “i happen to be a federal agent. but i’m not here to give you my history. do you surren- der?” the boys could hear the sting in the agent’s words. “wait a minute.” once more the head dis- appeared. this time it stayed back for some minutes. the watching boys were moving un- easily. finally another came to the window- it was delton. the agent gave no sign that he knew him. “want to speak to me?” asked delton, an imperious note in his voice. “makes no difference who i speak to. i want to know if you ’ll surrender, and give your- selves over to the law.” “what for?” “you know well enough! smuggling, and shooting!” “it was that bird’s own fault that he got flying bullets _ shot. what ’s he want to come sneaking around for‘? serves him right! as for smuggling, who said we were smugglers?” “never mind about that.” the agent was speaking quickly now. “i ask you once more, do you surrender?” unwittingly hawkins lowered his gun on which was the flag of truce. there was a sud- den report, and a spurt of dust arose at the agent ’s feet. “there’s our answer!” delton yelled, and slammed down the window. hawkins wasted no time in returning to the waiting boys. “that’s that,” he said grimly, and he re- moved the handkerchief from his gun. “we got to go after them. kid, where ’s billee dobb resting?” “over there behind that bend. want me to go over and see how he ’s makin’ out?” “yes. in the meantime, where ’s that meat and bread you brought, nort? everybody grab some. got water over there for billee, kid? ” “yep; dick ’s got a canteen full, and he ’s got billee’s shoulder tied up with his shirt. we -can’t do anything more for him ’til we get home.” “i hate to think of billee lying out there hurt,” bud said a trifle sadly. “think we all better go over and see him?” “n o, i don’t,” hawkins said decidedly. flying bullets bud get around to the extreme right. in that way we can cover the whole ground. nort and i will start first, and try to make the door. “when i shoot, you start, kid. if we can get into the house, the rest is easy. i know that bunch. fine when they’re on top, but as soon as anyone gets under their guard, they welch. that ’s the reason i think we can make it. but listen—” and the agent ’s voice dropped. “ this is a mighty risky business. i don’t want any- one to get in this against his will. no telling what may happen. are you boys willing to take a chance?” bud was the first to speak. “mr. hawkins,” he said, “i think i know the others well enough to speak for them. when we started this thing, we did so because it was our duty, and, i might as well admit it, because of the excitement. since then some- thing has happened. billee dobb was shot, are you answered?” “i am,” said the agent, with an understand- ing look. “all set then, boys. around that way, bud. wait for three shots, then close in—- fast. let’s go!” bud and yellin’ kid started for the right of the house. the moment had come. before many more minutes passed, the plan would have either succeeded, or there would be fewer men able to walk around the ranch house. hawkins and nort drew their guns, and headed their _ a ring of fire _ “what makes you think someone started it?" hawkins asked, looking at him closely. “well, i figure it couldn’t set itself—and it ’s not likely an accident would happen.” “can’t tell—like as not a lamp turned over. wow, look at that roof go! where can those birds be keeping themselves? what chance have they got now?” “probably trying to put it out from inside. foolish thing to do, but they know as soon as they come out they ’re finished. i wouldn’t de- liberately set the place on fire, but it sure solved our problem for us.” as the fire raged more fiercely, the ranchers looked at each other. what had happened to delton? could it be that he determined to stick it out until the last moment, and risk a horrible death? surely he must realize that in peaceful surrender lay his only hope. suddenly bud uttered a cry. “here comes someone! out of the cellar! look!’ ’ running toward them was a bedraggled figure. clothes torn, face blackened with smoke, it presented a truly pitiful picture. as it ran it waved its arms wildly. something in the ap- pearance, or possibly its gesture, caused bud to exclaim: “say, he looks familiar! kid, nort—know who that is?” the boys looked curiously at the wretched man. now he was almost upon them, and they a ring of fire _ the mexican pointed to himself, then held up two fingers. then he pointed to the house, and shook his fist. “he means his brother!” the kid said. “what about him, mex? did delton get hold of him?” another nod, and more furious gestures. “i see!” cried the kid. “he means delton put his brother up to some dirty work. that right, mex?” eagerly the man signified yes. “and he did this to get back at him. but where is delton, mex? why doesn’t he come out? he ’ll be burned to death in there !” the fire had eaten its way through to the front of the house and now the whole upper story was ablaze. it seemed impossible that any living creature could withstand those flames. “where ’s delton, mex?” the kid persisted. the cook pointed to the house then to the ground. “ the cellar!” bud cried. “he means they ’re hiding in the cellar! that ’s the reason they can stay in there so long. we should have thought of that before. ” “they ’ll soon be out,” spoke hawkins a trifle grimly. “the fire is reaching the lower story. we may expect a rush any minute now.” the men were standing in a group at the edge of the trees. with the house directly in front of them, and the country about perfectly flat, there boy ranchers on roaring river _ was no chance of anyone escaping unseen. the flames mounted higher. there was a certain amount of awe in the faces of all as they thought of the tortures a person would endure if he were trapped in that furnace. and for all they knew, men might be burning to death in front of them! it was a harrowing situation. even though they had shot billee dobb, it was an inhuman thing to wish, or even think, of them being caught in a burning building. if they would only come out, even though they came shooting! bud saw a huge tongue of flame shoot out of the roof. “i can’t stand this any longer!” he shouted. “those men must be burning to death! i can ’t stay here and watch that. i’m going to ” “but what can you do?” nort asked. “they want to stay there until they ’re good and ready to leave. i don ’t see how we can help them. certainly i don ’t want to see anyone burned to death, but i don ’t think we can do anything, ex- cept go in and get them, which we can ’t do; and if they won’t come out, they won’t.” “perhaps they ’re trapped!” “you ’d know it if they were. they’d yell or something. n o matter how much they want to escape, they won’t risk getting burned. no man would.” “then why don ’t they come out?” bud per- sisted. “ask me something easier! maybe the mex _ a ring of fire _ can tell us something about it. hey, mex! why they no come out?” but this time the cook shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands wide in a gesture express- ing ignorance. they could get no information there. “i’m going to ride over and see!’ ’ bud ex- claimed, a ring of determination in his voice. “well, if you want to—then i’ll go with you. kind of wonder where they are myself.” this from nort. they had to force their horses to head toward the fire. the sparks were flying high, and the heat could be plainly felt even at the distance the boys stood. but finally bud and nort got the ponies started. the animals approached the fire with mincing steps. the boys had to force them continually onward, for no beast will go toward fire will- ingly. a few more steps and nort said: “say, bud, there ’s not much point in this. the broncs will never go near enough for us to see anything. what say we get ofi and walk? i don’t think there ’s much chance of delton shooting at us. if we really want to find out anything we better get ofi these horses.” “guess that ’s right,” agreed bud as his mount reared high. “fast, though—snap to it, n ort!” the boys turned their ponies away from the fire and rode swiftly back. they dismounted i boy ranchers on roaring river _ and without hesitation ran again to the burning house. they made for the side, from where the mexican cook had staggered out. “there ought to be an entrance to the cellar about here,” bud panted as he ran on. “the mex said they were down there!” as they neared the building they saw that this was so. a small door indicated the way to the cellar. the heat was tremendous, and nort wondered if their errand hadn’t been in vain. it didn’t seem possible that there living creatures were voluntarily remaining within. just as nort was about to tell bud his thought, a figure emerged and staggered toward them. it was the man who had protested at delton’s treatment of bud when the boy had been taken, bound, to this very house. the man was in sad case. _his breath was coming in sobs, and he maintained an upright position only by a supreme efiort. one side of his face was badly burned. “help—” he gasped. “help—men in there———” “what is it? speak quick!” bud com- ilnandedin “can’t they get out? are they in anger “trapped! delton—in there-—can’t move— hit on the head ” the next moment the man collapsed at their feet. unconscious. _ chapter xxiv the battling buckboard “ uick, n ort! pull him back out of q the heat and call the others! we’ve got to save those men !” “what ’s the matter?” dick cried as he came up. “aren’t they out of that furnace yeti” “no— they ’re trapped inside! we ’ve got to get them out! billee dobb-—is—_is he dead? ” “n o—he ’s better! he insisted on my coming over when he saw the smoke. thought i might be needed. no time for talk now—we’ve got to get busy!” “it ’s sure death to enter that!” hawkins cried as another huge tongue of flame shot heavenward, sending the boys reeling back. “you ’ll only throw your lives away ! ” “i can ’t help it—we must do something! we can ’t see them burned to death!” at that moment bud felt a tug at his sleeve. he jerked around. at his elbow was the mex- ican cook. he motioned to himself, then toward the cellar. then he leaped forward. “follow him!” bud cried. “he knows how to get in safely!” \ boy ranchers on roaring river with a rush the others were on the heels of the mexican. “someone has got to stay here-—help them out if we do get them!” exclaimed hawkins. “nort—you and dick wait!” bud was directly behind the mexican. he saw the man disappear down into the smoke, and taking a full breath, the boy followed. he found himself below ground, and for a moment hesitated to get his bearings. the air was chok- ing, but the heat was not intolerable. the fire had not quite reached the lower floor. there was no time to be lost, for any minute the building might collapse and bury them. bud plunged on. he could see faintly now, and he caught a glimpse of a figure in front of him, beckoning. “go—ahead !” the boy gasped. “coming!” a few steps further and he stumbled against a door. at his side was the mexican, pointing. bud pushed frantically, but the door refused to budge. then he found the reason. it was bolted. “you — you locked them in! you in- human-—” “he saw the mexican shrug his shoulders. even in the burning building the latin’s philo- sophical mind did not desert him. bud struggled with the bolt. it stuck. he strove with all his strength—a.nd the door flew _ boy ranchers on roaring river _ stained face. then with a sudden heave he lifted him and staggered to the door. “i’ll take him!” he gasped to the kid, who had reached for the burden. “see if there are any more!” he heard yellin’ kid smashing against the walls in an efiort to locate other senseless fig- ures. then he followed bud. “can’t find any more. ask the mex how many———” the cook heard the inquiry and flung his arms wide, indicating that the rest had made their escape. the kid, gasping, plunged out intothe open. as he gulped in great mouthfuls of the wel- come fresh air the kid heard a sudden crasho he turned quickly. a shower of sparks and flames shot into the air, like the eruption of a volcano. there was another roar, and the next moment the building was in ruins. the walls had collapsed, and nothing remained of the structure but a pile of embers. with horror written on his face, the kid looked wildly about him. “bud!” he almost screamed. “bud—is he in there? get him out-—get him ” “all right, kid—all right-—-” said a voice by his side. it was bud. the kid stared at him for a long minute, with a suspicious moisture in his eyes. then he laid his hand on bud’s shoulder. boy ranchers on roaring river y _ who was standing on the edge of the group. “come here! you know him!” he pointed to a man seated on the ground, leaning against a tree, with one of his sleeves burned entirely away. the arm was scorched. but with his other hand the man was calmly holding a cigarette. the mexican cook looked at him and then nodded briefly. “he ’s your brother, isn’t he?” another careless nod. “then you ask him what became of the chinks!” , “why don’t you ask him yourself ” dick wanted to know. “tried it—won’t answer. i think his brother can make him talk.” this proved to be correct. the cook bent over his brother and made a few rapid motions with his fingers. the seated man muttered something. again the cook’s fingers moved. this time his brother answered more at length, and the cook walked in the direction of a small shed, motioning to the others to follow. n ort and mr. hawkins trailed along behind. when they reached the shack the cook pointed to it. “in there?” the agent asked doubtfully. it didn’t seen large enough to hold more than two men. it had probably been used to shelter a calf when the place had been run by a farmer. the mexican nodded. hawkins stepped to ~- the rattling buckboard _ “let me see,” the agent said. “it is a prob- lem, n ort. bud, have you a suggestion? the sooner we can get the bunch to town the quicker we’ll get something hot to eat. and a little sleep wouldn’t harm us any. think of any- thing, bud?” “well, if—” the boy stopped and listened intently. in the distance he heard the sounds of horses. then as they approached nearer the creaking noise of a wagon traveling fast came to him. the next moment all heard a voice yelling: ‘ “get along there, boys! watch it—watch it! pete, you spavin-back cayuse, come out of that! quit side-steppin’! at a baby—now yore goin’! out of that hole! out of it! pete! pete! you dog-eared knock-kneed bleary-eyed paint, if you don’t swing wide i’ll skin you alive! you, pete!” a rattling buckboard popped into view like the presiding genius of a jack-in-the-box. ‘ ‘it ’s our friend from town—from the store!” n ort exclaimed. “yes, and look who ’s with him!” bud yelled. “it’s dad! yea, dad! golly, i’m glad you came! you’re just in time!” chapter xxv yellin’ kid finds ms bronc he wagon came to a sudden stop, and mr. merkel jumped out. “hello, son! howdy, boys! say- what happened here? bud—how did you get burned? you hurt?” there was a note of anxiety in the father’s voice. “not a bit, dad! just blackened up a little. had a fire, and we had to pull some men out. look at that!” the boy pointed to the mass of embers that was once a house. the fire had died down until now there was only glowing bits of wood left. it had started quickly and ended as suddenly. “anybody seriously burned?” mr. merkel looked at his son keenly, as though to satisfy himself that he was uninjured. the father’s glance evidently convinced him that bud was all right, for he turned quickly and said to the others: “where’s billee dobb? i don’t see him.” “billee is the one who is really hurt, uncle,” nort answered. “he’s got a piece of lead in his shoulder. he ’s asleep now—be all right later, i think.” “shot! the rascals! they’ll suffer for h__ a yellin’ kid finds his bronc _ that! you want to get billee to a doctor as soon as possible, before infection sets in. we ’ll bring him back in the wagon. ” “how did you happen to come here, dad?” bud asked curiously. “i didn’t think you knew where we were.” “i didn’t, exactly. i have a confession to make, bud. you weren’t sent out here to herd sheep. you were sent to do just what you did— to capture the smugglers.’ ’ “but—but why didn’t you tell us?” “i couldn’t, bud. i gave my word to the government that i’d not let on the reason i was sending you out here. you see, no one could tell just what would happen. if you knew that you were sent to go after smugglers, and you went after the wrong gang, things would be in a pretty mess. so they concluded that it was best to leave you in the dark. i’ll admit i favored telling you, boys, but as it turned out, the other way may have been best. even as it was, i let slip something about it. and when you weren’t at the ranch i figured you might be in this direction. i sort of suspected this place. well, all’s well that ends well. now what, boys?” “if we can get that wild buckboard man to drive slowly, we have a load of passengers to take back. oh, say, dad, do you know mr. hawkins! i don ’t know whether you—” bud paused suggestively. yellin’ kid finds his bronc _ “ten years,” the agent answered briefly. “delton’s due for quite a long stretch. he ’ll have time to think over his errors.” “ten years,” bud said musingly. “ten years in jail! mr. hawkins, if we testified that delton wasn’t so bad as he ’s supposed to be, and that ” the boy stopped. hawkins looked at him long and hard. then he walked over and held out his hand. _ “son,” he said simply, “that’s the whitest thing i’ve ever seen a man do. i’ll try to fix it up for you. we ’ll do what we can to lighten his sentence.” “thanks,” bud said gratefully. “well, when do we start?” mr. merkel asked. “if you men are hungry, we’d better get going. did i understand you to say we ’d have a load going back, bud?” “and then some! now let ’s see how we can arrange this. billee dobb goes back in the buckboard. and so do the others who are badly hurt. how many do you think can ride, kid’! you know we’ve got their horses at the back, and some can come along on them.” “figure delton and two of those other guys should go in the wagon. the rest can fork the broncs. they’re able. well, let’s get those fellers that are going along with this wild man in the wagon. think you can take it easy a _ boy ranchers on roaring river _ short spell?” yellin’ kid asked the grinning driver. “sure! like an am-bu-lance. they’ll never know they ’re ridin’.” “all right. now about these chinks. guess they ’ll have to get along on the ponies.” ‘ ‘but maybe they can ’t ride, ” n ort suggested. “maybe they can’t—but they’re gonna take a lesson right now! their first an’ last. let ’s get hold of billee an’ lift him in the wagon. still asleep?” “yep. easy now. that does it——” as they raised the form of the old rancher he stirred uneasily. then he opened his eyes. “boss!” he exclaimed. “\vhat do you think of me bein’ carried around this way. wait a minute, boys, i can walk. i want to?” “you ’re to lay right still,” admonished yellin’ kid. “think we want you bleedin’ all over the landscape? now go slow, an’ mr. merkel will shake hands with you when we get you in the wagon.” “how are you, billee?” the cattle owner asked warmly. “heard you had an accident! well, we’ll feed you up good for a couple of days and you ’ll soon be on horseback again.” “sure will! can’t say i like this lyin’ down idea. but the boys won’t let me get up.” the buckboard carrying billee and the other injured men went first, and the rest of the pro- cession followed, with mr. hawkins and dick yellin’ kid finds his bronc _ in the extreme rear, to see that everything went well. and thus they started for town. they had scarcely gotten under way when all heard the sound of a horse behind them. they turned and saw a riderless pony galloping toward them. “what the mischief—” bud cried out as he saw the horse nearing them. “he wants to visit! look—his halter has been broken. must be a runaway. i wonder-——” “runaway nothin’!” yelled the kid. “he ’s comin’ home! that’s my bronc!” the horse made straight for yellin’ kid. “look at that—knows me! well! well! well! come home to papa! my bronc, sure as you’re a foot high! see that spot above his eye? i’d know it in a million! come here, baby—where you been? huh? i been lookin’ all over for you. ” there was a sudden exclamation from one of the smugglers who was riding in front of the kid. “got away!” the man muttered. “thought i tied her-—” “so-o-o you’re the coot that had her, hey? an’ you tied her up tight, hey? so she couldn’t get loose? well, let me tell you that this little paint can bust any halter, if she wants to. can ’t you, baby? by golly, i ” “sing it, kid, sing it!” dick laughed. “do you tuck her in bed at night, too ” _ yellin’ kid finds his bronc _ rather a long time to get there, as the buckboard had to be driven slowly on account of the in- jured. true to his promise, the young “wild man” held his verbally much-abused horses down to a walk. the smugglers were removed to jail, with the assurance from the warden that those who were injured would be treated by a local doctor. the chinese were also jailed, to be held for the federal oflicers. deportment, first back to mexico, and, eventually, back to china was their portion. they seemed to realize it, for they were a sad and silent bunch. billee dobb was given a room to himself in the ranch house where he could rest and get well, and then the others washed up and “filled up,” as nort expressed it. “now comes the reward,” said mr. hawkins, and he arranged to have it paid to the boy ranchers, with yellin’ kid and billee dobb sharing in it. there was an additional reward for capturing the smuggled chinese as well as the smugglers, so there was a fund large enough for all to share. “let ’s go up and see billee now,” proposed bud, when they had eaten and quieted down. they found the old rancher restlessly picking at the coverlet of his bed, his weather-tanned face in strange contrast to the white pillow cases. as the boys and mr. merkel entered, billee grinned. jpn .bakeb b _ baker. willard f the boy ranchers on roaring river, or, diamond x and the chinese smugglers o q p .-y .___,_ ! f the desert home. fwbljc tjbrart lincoln with the bighorn. p. . the desert home adventures of a lost family in the wilderness. captain mayne £e i d, author of "the rifle-rangers," &e. with twelve illustrations by william harvey london: ^' david bogue, fleet street. m.dcoc.lii. hr " v /"» o o v ■ ft . j as^i*», lxnsx and tilda* rct'ndatluns h i» l contents. chap. page . the great american desert . . n. the white peak . . . . . in. the valley oasis . . . . . iv. the strange settlement . . . v. rolfe's early history . . . . vi. the virginia plantation . . to. the caravan and its fate . . . viii. the miner's story . . . . ix. lost in the desert . . . . ] x. adventure with an armadillo . . xi. a very lean buffalo . . . . xii. the bighorns . . . . xiii. the great elk ..... xiv. adventure with the carcajou . . xv. a fruitless search for a trail . . iv contents. chap. page xvi. the mysterious flood . . . xvii. the beavers and wolverene . . xviii. how to build a log-cabin . . . xtx. the sagacious squirrel . . . xx. a house built without a nail . . xxi. a battue of " black-tails." . . xxii. catching a tartar .... xxiii. the salt spring . . . . xxiv. the battle of the snakes . . xxv. the sugar-tree .... ' xxvi. the stump-tree and the bread-pine xxvii. the snow line ..... xxviii. the menagerie, aviary, and botanic garden xxix. trapping the beasts and birds . . xxx. the biters bit . . . . xxxi. battle of the marten and porcupine xxxii. the cunning old " 'coon" . . xxxiii. little mary and the bee . . . xxxiv. a grand bee-hunt . . . xxxv. a rival honey-robber . . . xxxvi. the battle of the bucks . . contents. v chap. page xxxvii. the pit-trap xxxviii. the old "'possum" and her kittens xxxix. the moccason snake and the orioles xx. the battle of the cougar and pec- caries . . . . . xli. besieged in a tree .... xlti. an adventure with dusky wolves . xliii. taming the great elk . . xliv. catching the wild horses . . lilbstratiflits. a page i. lincoln with the bighorn (frotuiapiax) ii. dogs defending a child from wolves iii. harry kills a prong-horned antelope . iv. the wounded elk at bay v. the ox killed by the carcajou ifis vi. the wolverene and the beavers . vn. the escape of the skunk viii. the storehouse of sugar-maples . ix. the marten and the porcupine x. the bear in the honey-tree . xi. the opossum and the orioles xii. besieged by peccaries . the desert-home. chapter i. the great american desert. there is a great desert in the interior of north america. it is almost as large as the famous saara of africa. it is fifteen hundred miles long, and a thousand wide. now, if it were of a regular shape — that is to say, a parallelogram—you could at once compute its area, by multiplying the length upon the breadth; and you would obtain one million and a half for the result—one million and a half of square miles. but its outlines are as yet very imperfectly known; and although it is fully fifteen hundred miles long, and in some places a thousand in breadth, its surface-extent is probably not over one million of square miles, or twenty-five times the size of england. fancy a desert twenty-five times as big as all england! do you not think *■ ".• b the great american desert. that it has received a most appropriate name when it is called the great american desert? now, my young friend, what do you understand by a desert? i think i can guess. when you read or hear of a desert, you think of a vast level plain, covered with sand, and without trees, or grass, or any kind of vegetation. you think, also, of this sand being blown about in thick yellow clouds, and no water to be seen in any direction. this is your idea of a desert, is it not? well, it is not altogether the correct one. it is true that in almost every desert there are these sandy plains, yet are there other parts of its surface of a far different character, equally deserving the name of desert. although the interior of the great saiira has not been fully explored, enough is known of it to prove that it contains large tracts of mountainous and hilly country, with rocks and valleys, lakes, rivers, and springs. there are, also, fertile spots, at wide distances from each other, covered with trees, and shrubs, and beautiful vegetation. some of these spots are small, while others are of large extent, and inhabited by independent tribes, and even whole kingdoms of people. a fertile tract of this kind is called an oasis; and, by looking the great american desert. at your map, you will perceive that there are many oases in the saara of africa. of a similar character is the great american desert; but its surface is still more varied with what may he termed " geographical features." there are plains—some of them more than a hundred miles wide—where you can see nothing but white sand, often drifting about on the wind, and here and there thrown into long ridges such as those made by a snow- storm. there are other plains, equally large, where no sand appears, but brown barren earth utterly destitute of vegetation. there are others, again, on which grows a stunted shrub with leaves of a pale silvery colour. in some places it grows so thickly, interlocking its twisted and knotty branches, that a horseman can hardly ride through among them. this shrub is the artemisia—a species of wild sage or wormwood,—and the plains upon which it grows are called by the hunters, who cross them, the sage prairies. other plains are met with that present a black aspect to the traveller. these are covered with lava, that at some distant period of time has been vomited forth from volcanic mountains, and now lies frozen up, and broken into small fragments like the stones upon a new-made road. still other plains the great american desert. present themselves in the american desert. some are white, as if snow had fallen freshly upon them, and yet it is not snow, but salt! yes; pure white salt—covering the ground six inches deep, and for fifty miles in every direction! others, again, have a similar appearance; but instead of salt, you find the substance which covers them to be soda—a beau- tiful efflorescence of soda! there are mountains, too—indeed, one-half of the desert is very mountainous; and the great chain of the rocky mountains—of which you have no doubt heard—runs sheer through it from north to south, and divides it into two nearly equal parts. but there are other mountains besides these; mountains of every height, and sometimes in their shape and colour presenting very striking and singular appear- ances. some of them run for miles in horizontal ridges like the roofs of houses, and seemingly so narrow at their tops that one might sit astride of them. others, again, of a conical form, stand out in the plain apart from the rest, and look like tea- cups turned upon their mouths in the middle of a table. then there are sharp peaks that shoot upward like needles, and others shaped like the dome of some great cathedral—like the dome of st. the great american desert. paul's. these mountains are of many colours. some are dark, or dark green, or blue when seen from a distance. they are of this colour when covered by forests of pine or cedar, both of which trees are found in great plenty among the moun- tains of the desert. there are many mountains, where no trees are seen, nor any signs of vegetation along their sides. huge naked rocks of granite appear piled upon each other, or jutting out over dark and'frowning chasms. there are peaks perfectly white, because they are covered with a thick mantle of snow. these can always be seen from the greatest distance, as the snow lying upon them all the year without melting proves them to be of vast elevation above the level of the sea. there are other peaks almost as white, and yet it is not with snow. they are of a milky hue, and stunted cedar-trees may be seen clinging in seams and crevices along their sides. these are mountains of pure limestone, or the white quartz rock. there are mountains, again, upon which neither tree nor leaf is to be seen; but, in their stead, the most vivid colours of red and green and yellow and white, running in stripes along their sides, as though they had been freshly painted. thf great american desert. these stripes mark the strata of different coloured rocks, of which the mountains are composed. and there are still other mountains in the great ame- rican desert, to startle the traveller with their strange appearance. they are those that glitter with the mica and selenite. these, when seen from a distance flashing under the sun, look as though they were mountains of silver and gold! the rivers, too. strange rivers are they. some run over broad shallow beds of bright sand. large rivers—hundreds of yards in width, with sparkling waters. follow them down their course. what do you find? instead of growing larger, like the rivers of your own land, they become less and less, until at length their waters sink into the sands, and you see nothing but the dry channel for miles upon miles! go still farther, and again the water appears, and onward increases in volume, until—thousands of miles from the sea—large ships can float upon their bosom. such are the arkansas and the platte. there are other rivers that run between bleak, rocky banks—banks a thousand feet high, whose bald, naked "bluffs" frown at each other across the deep chasm, in the bottom of which roars the troubled water. often these banks extend for hun- the great american desert. dreds of miles, so steep at all points that one cannot go down to the bed of their stream; and often — often—the traveller has perished with thirst, while the roar of their water was sounding in his ears! such are the colorado and the snake. still others go sweeping through the broad plains, tearing up the clay with their mighty floods, and year after year changing their channels, until they are sometimes an hundred miles from their ancient beds. here they are found gurgling for many leagues under ground—under vast rafts formed by the trees which they have borne downward in their current. there you find them winding by a thousand loops like the sinuosities of a great serpent,.rolling sluggishly along, with waters red and turbid as though they were rivers of blood! such are the brazos and the red. strange rivers are they that struggle through the mountains, and valleys, and plateau-lands of the great american desert. not less strange are its lakes. some lie in the deep recesses of hills that dip down so steeply you cannot reach their shores; while the mountains around them are so bleak and naked, that not even a bird ever wings its flight across their silent waters. the great american desert. other lakes are seen in broad, barren plains; and yet, a few years after, the traveller finds them not— they have dried up and disappeared. some are fresh, with waters like crystal—others brackish and muddy —while many of them are more salt than the ocean itself. in this desert there are springs — springs of soda and sulphur, and salt waters; and others so hot that they boil up as in a great caldron, and you could not dip your finger into them "without scalding it. there are vast caves piercing the sides of the mountains, and deep chasms opening into the plains— some of them so deep, that you might fancy moun- tains had been scooped out to form them. they are called "barrancas." there are precipices rising straight up from the plains—thousands of feet in height—and steep as a wall; and through the moun- tains themselves you may see great clefts cut by the rivers, as though they had been tunnelled and their tops had fallen in. they are called " cafions." all these singular formations mark the wild region of the great american desert. it has its denizens. there are oases in it; some of them large, and settled by civilized men. one of these is the country of new mexico, containing the great american desert. many towns, and , inhabitants. these are of the spanish and mixed indian races. another oasis is the country around the great salt and utah lakes. here is also a settlement, established in . its people are americans and englishmen. they are the mormons; and, although they dwell hundreds of miles from any sea, they will in time become a large and powerful nation of themselves. besides these, two great oases, there are thousands of others of all sizes—from fifty miles in breadth, to the little spot of a few acres, formed by the fertilizing waters of some gurgling spring. many of these are without inhabitants. in others, again, dwell tribes of indians—some of them numerous and powerful, possessing horses and cattle; while others are found in small groups of three or four families each, sub- sisting miserably upon roots, seeds, grass, reptiles, and insects. in addition to the two great settle- ments we have mentioned, and the indians, there is another class of men scattered over this region. these are white men—hunters and trappers. they subsist by trapping the beaver, and hunting the buffalo and other animals. their life is one con- tinued scene of peril, both from the wild animals which they encounter in their lonely excursions, and the great american desert. the hostile indians with whom they come in contact. these men procure the furs of the beaver, the otter, the musk-rat, the marten, the ermine, the lynx, the fox, and the skins of many other animals. this is their business, and by this they live. there are forts, or trading posts—established by adventurous merchants—at long distances from each other ; and at these forts the trappers exchange their furs for the necessary implements of their perilous calling. there is another class of men who traverse the great desert. for many years there has been a commerce carried on between the oasis of new mexico and the united states. this commerce employs a considerable amount of capital, and a great number of men—principally americans. the goods transported in large wagons drawn by mules or oxen; and a train of these wagons is called a "caravan." other caravans—spanish ones—cross the western wing of the desert, from sonora to cali- fornia, and thence to new mexico. thus, you see, the american desert has its caravans as well as the saara. these caravans travel for hundreds of miles through countries in which there are no inhabi- tants, except the scattered and roving bands of the great american desert. indians; and there are many parts so sterile, that not even these can exist in them. the caravans, however, usually follow a track which is known, and where grass and water may be found at certain seasons of the year. there are several of these tracks, or, as they are called, "trails," that cross from the frontier settlements of the united states to those of new mexico. between one and another of them, however, stretch vast regions of desert country—entirely unexplored and unknown—and many fertile spots exist, that have never been trodden by the foot of man. such, then, my young friend, is a rough sketch of some of the more prominent features of the great american desert. let me conduct you into it, and show you—from a nearer view—some of its wild but interesting aspects. i shall not show you the wildest of them, lest they might terrify you. fear not—i shall not lead you into danger. follow me. the white peak. chapter ii. the white peak. some years ago, i was one of a party of "prairie merchants," who crossed with a caravan from st. louis on the mississippi, to santa fe in new mex- ico. we followed the usual " santa fe trail." not disposing of all our goods in new mexico, we kept on to the great town of chihuahua, which lies farther to the south. there we settled our business, and were about to return to the united states the way we had come, when it was proposed (as we had now nothing to encumber us but our bags of money), that we should explore a new "trail" across the prairies. we all wished to find a better route than the santa fe road; and we expected that such an one lay between the town of el paso—on the del norte river—and some point on the frontiers of arkansas. on arriving at el paso, we sold our wagons, and the white peak. purchased mexican pack-mules—engaging, at the same time, a number of "arrieros," or muleteers to manage them. we also purchased saddle-horses— the small tight horses of new mexico, which are excellent for journeying in the desert. we provided ourselves, moreover, with such articles of clothing and provisions as we might require upon our unknown route. having got everything ready for the journey, we bade adieu to el paso, and turned our faces east- ward. there were in all twelve of us—traders, and a number of hunters, who had agreed to accompany us across the plains. there was a miner, too, who belonged to a copper mine near el paso. there were also four mexicans—the "arrieros" who had charge of our little train of pack-mules. of course, we were all well armed, and mounted upon the best horses we could procure for money. we had first to cross over the rocky mountains, which run north and south through all the country. that chain of them which lies eastward of el paso is called the sierra de organos, or " organ mountains." they are so called from the fancied resemblance which is seen in one of their cliffs to the tubes of an organ. these cliffs are of trap-rock, which, as you are aware, often presents very fantastic and singular formations, the white peak. by means of its peculiar stratification. but there is a still more curious feature about these organ moun- tains. on the top of one of them is a lake, which has its tides that ebb and flow like the tides of the ocean! no one has yet accounted for this remark- able phenomenon, and it remains a puzzle to the geological inquirer. this lake is a favourite resort for the wild animals of the country, and deer and elk are found in great numbers around its shores. they are not even molested by the mexican hunters of these parts, who seem to have a superstitious fear of the spirits of the organ mountains, and rarely climb up their steep sides. our party found an easy pass through the range, which brought us out into an open country on the other side. after travelling several days through the eastern spurs of the rocky mountains, we struck upon a small stream, which we followed downward. it brought us at length to a large river running north and south, which we knew to be the celebrated pecos, or, as it is sometimes called, the puerco. these, you will perceive, are all spanish, names, for the country through which we were travelling, although uninhabited and even unexplored by the mexican spaniards, was yet part of their territory; the white peak. and such objects as were known to them, through hunters or others, had received names in their lan- guage. we crossed the pecos, and travelled for some days up its left bank, in hopes of reaching some other stream that might run into it from the east, which we could follow. no such stream appeared; and we were forced at times to leave the pecos itself, and take out into the open country for a distance of miles, before we could get back to its waters. this was on account of the deep channel which the river— working for long ages—had cut through hills that opposed its course, leaving on both sides vast preci- pices for its banks. having now got farther to the north than we wished, our party at length determined to attempt the passage of the arid plain which stretched away eastward as far as the eye could reach. it was a perilous enterprise to leave the river, without some knowledge that there was water ahead of us. tra- vellers, under such circumstances, usually keep close to a stream—wherever it runs in the direction in which they wish to go; but we had grown impatient on not finding any one flowing into the pecos from the east; and, having filled our gourd can- the white peak. teens, and given our animals as much water as they could drink, we turned their heads towards the open plain. after riding for several hours, we found ourselves in the midst of a wide desert, with neither hill, moun- tain, nor any other landmark in view. scarcely a trace of vegetation appeared around us. here and there were patches of stunted sage-bushes and clumps of thorny cactus; but not a blade of grass to gladden the eyes of our animals. not a drop of water was met with, nor any indication that rain had ever fallen upon that parched plain. the soil was as dry as powder, and the dust, kicked up by the hoofs of our mules and horses, hung around us in a cloud as we marched. in addition to this, the heat was excess- ive; and this, with the dust and fatigue of travel, brought on an unquenchable thirst, that soon caused us to drink up the contents of our water-gourds. long before night they were all empty, and every one of our party was crying out from thirst. our animals suffered worse; for we, at least, had food, while they, poor brutes, were without a bite to sus- tain them. we could not well turn back. we thought we should surely come to water, sooner than we could the white peak. get back to the river; and with this hope we struggled on. late in the afternoon, our eyes were greeted by a glad sight, that caused us to start up in our saddles with a feeling of joy. you may think that it was water—but it was not. it was a white object that appeared against the sky at a great distance. it was of a triangular shape, and seemed to be suspended in the air like the upper half of a huge kite. all of us knew at a glance what it was. we knew that it was the white cap of a snowy mountain. you will wonder why this sight should have given us such feelings of pleasure, as, in your opinion, there is nothing very hospitable in the appearance of a snow-capped mountain. that is because you do not understand the peculiarities of the desert. i shall explain. we knew, from the appearance of the mountain, that it was one of those where the snow lies for ever, and which throughout mexico are termed "nevada," or snowy. we knew, moreover, that wherever these are met with, streams of water will be found running down their sides, almost at all seasons, but certainly in hot or summer weather, in consequence of the melting of the snow. it was this knowledge, then, that cheered us; and although the mountain seemed at a great distance, we pushed c the white peak. forward with renewed energy and hope. our ani- mals, too, as if they also understood the matter, neighed and brayed loudly, and stepped out with a more springy and elastic tread. the white triangle grew bigger as we advanced. at sunset we could distinguish the brown seams in the lower part of the mountain; and the yellow rays dancing upon the snowy crystals of the cone caused it to glitter like a coronet of gold. the sight cheered us on. the sun set, and the moon took his place in the heavens. under her pale light we travelled on— the peak of the mountain still glistening coldly before us. we travelled all night—and why not? there was nothing to halt for. we could not have halted, except to die. the morning broke upon us as we dragged wearily along. we could not have ridden less than an hun- dred miles since we left the pecos river; and yet, to our dismay, the mountain was still at a good distance before us. as the day brightened, we could trace the configuration of its base; and we observed that upon its southern face a deep ravine indented the mountain nearly to its top. on its western side— the one nearest us—there was no such feature; and the white peak. we conjectured that the most likely place for water would be in the ravine on the south, where a stream might be formed by the aggregation of the melted snow-water. we directed our course toward the point, where the ravine appeared to have its debouchment on the plain. we had calculated rightly; as we ap- proached it, winding round the foot of the mountain, we saw a line of a bright green colour, running out into the brown desert. it looked like a low hedge, with here and there tall trees growing up above the rest. we knew well what it was: it was a grove of willows, with trees of cotton-wood interspersed. we knew them to be the sure signs of water, and we hailed their appearance with delight. the men huzza'd hoarsely—the horses neighed—the mules hinnied—and, in a few moments more, men, mules, and horses, were kneeling by a crystal runlet, and drinking deeply of its waters. the valley oasis. chapter iii. the valley oasis. after so long and terrible a journey, of course, we all stood in need of rest and refreshment. we made up our minds to stay by the stream all night, and perhaps for a day or two. the fringe of willows extended on both sides of it for a distance of fifty yards into the plain; and among these, growing under their shade, there were patches of grass—that species known in mexico as the gramma grass. it is a rich, nutritious herbage; and horses and cattle— as well as the buffaloes and other wild animals—are very fond of it. our mules and horses gave proof of this; for, as soon as they had satisfied themselves with the water, they attacked it with open mouths, and eyes sparkling with delight. we relieved them of their packs and saddles; and then, having picketed them, left them to eat to their hearts' content. the valley oasis. si we now set about looking after something for our own suppers. we had not yet suffered much from hunger, as we had occasionally chewed pieces of our dried meat while crossing the plain. but we had eaten it quite raw; and tasajo—for that is its name—is no great eating, either raw or roasted. we had been living upon it for more than a week, and we longed for something fresh. during all the route from el paso we had fallen in with no game, except some half-dozen lean antelopes, only one of which we had succeeded in shooting. while we were picketing our animals, and getting ready to cook our suppers of coffee and tasajo, one of the hunters — a tireless fellow named lincoln—had stolen off up the ravine. presently we heard the sharp crack of his rifle ringing through the defile; and, looking up, we saw a flock of "bighorns "— so the wild sheep of the rocky mountains are called —leaping from rock to rock, and almost flying like birds up the face of the cliffs. it was not long be- fore lincoln made his appearance at the mouth of the defile, carrying a large body upon his shoulders— which we knew, by the huge crescent-shaped horns,. had been a member of the flock we had seen escaping. it proved to be as fat as a buck; and the knives of the valley oasis. the skilful hunters were not long in skinning and dissecting it. meanwhile, a couple of axes had been grappled by stout hands; a cotton-wood came crashing down after a few sharp blows; and, having been cut into " logs," was soon crackling under the red blaze. over this, the ribs and steaks of the bighorn soon sputtered, and the coffee-kettle steamed, simmered, and bubbled, with its brown and aromatic contents. our supper over, one and all of us rolled ourselves in our blankets, and were soon forgetful of the perils through which we had passed. next morning we arose refreshed, and after break- fast a consultation was held as to what course we should now take. we would have followed the stream, but it appeared to run in a southerly direc- tion, and that would not do for us. we wanted to go eastward. while we were deliberating upon this, an exclamation from the hunter lincoln drew our atten- tion. he was standing in the open ground, at some distance out from the willows, and pointing south- ward. we all looked in that direction, and, to our great surprise, beheld a pillar of blue smoke curling up into the sky, and seeming to rise out of the plain! "it must be indians!" cried one. "i noticed an odd-looking hole in the prairie the valley oasis. down there," said lincoln; "i noticed it last night, when i was up after the bighorn. the smoke we see conies out of it; but there must be a fire where there's smoke, they say; and there's somebody about that fire, be they injuns or whites." "indians, of course," rejoined several; "who else would be found within hundreds of miles of such a place as this? indians, they must be." a brief consultation was held among us, as to what was best to be done. our fire was at once "choked out," and our mules and horses brought into the cover of the willow thicket. some proposed that a small party of us should go down the stream and reconnoitre; while others advised that we should climb the mountain, from which we might get a view of the strange place whence the smoke seemed to proceed. this was plainly the best course to adopt—as, in case it should fail to satisfy us, we could still follow the other plan. half-a-dozen of us, therefore, leaving the others to guard the camp, immediately set out to ascend the mountain. we climbed up the ravine, occasionally stopping to look out over the plain. we climbed until we had reached a considerable elevation. at length we caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a deep : the valley oasis. barranca—into which ran the stream—but we could distinguish nothing within it at so great a distance. we could see the plain stretching away beyond, naked and sterile. on one side only, and that towards the east, there was a belt of verdure, with here and there a solitary tree, or at most two or three growing together, stunted-like and shrubby. running in the centre of this belt, we could distin- guish a line or crack in the plain. this was, no doubt, a channel by which the stream escaped from the barranca. as nothing farther could be gained by remaining upon the mountain, we descended, and joined our companions at the camp. it was now agreed that a select party should follow the stream, until we had approached the edge of this strange valley, and reconnoitred it with caution. six of us again started, leaving our horses as before. we stole silently along, keeping among the willows, and as near as possible to the banks of the rivulet. in this way we travelled about a mile and a half. we saw then that we were near to the end of the barranca. we could hear a noise like the sound of a waterfall. we guessed that it must be a cataract formed by the stream, where it leaped into the strange ravine that already began to expand before the valley oasis. our faces. we were right in our conjectures, for the next moment we crept out upon the edge of a fearful cliff, where the water of the rivulet swept over, and fell through a height of several hundred feet. it was a heautiful sight to look upon, as the long jet, curving like the tail of a horse, plunged into the foaming pool below; and then rising with its millions of globules of snowy spray, glit- tered under the sunbeam with all the colours, of the rainbow. it was, indeed, a beautiful sight; but our eyes did not dwell long upon it, for other objects were before them that filled us with wonder. away below—far below where we were—lay a lovely valley, smiling in all the luxuriance of bright vegetation. it was of nearly an oval shape, bounded upon all sides by a frowning precipice, that rose around it like a wall. its length could not have been less than ten miles, and its greatest breadth about half of its length. we were at its upper end, and of course viewed it lengthwise. along the face of the precipice there were trees hanging out horizontally, and some of them even growing with their tops downward. these trees were cedars and pines; and we could perceive also the knotted limbs of huge cacti protruding from the crevices of the rocks. the valley oasis. we could see the wild mezcal, or maguey plant, growing against the cliff—its scarlet leaves con- trasting finely with the dark foliage of the cedars and cacti. some of these plants stood out on the very brow of the overhanging precipice, and their long curving blades gave a singular character to the landscape. along the face of the dark cliffs all was rough, and gloomy, and picturesque. how different was the scene below! here everything looked soft, and smiling, and beautiful. there were broad stretches of woodland, where the thick foliage of the trees met and clustered together, so that it looked like the surface of the earth itself; but we knew it was only the green leaves, for here and there were spots of brighter green, that we saw were glades covered with grassy turf. the leaves of the trees were of different colours, for it was now late in the autumn. some were yellow, and some of a deep claret colour. some were bright red, and some of a beautiful maroon ; and there were green, and brighter green, and others of a silvery, whitish hue. all these colours were mingled together, and blended into each other, like the flowers upon a rich carpet. near the centre of the valley was a large shining object, which we knew to be water. it was evidently the valley oasis. a lake of crystal purity, and smooth as a mirror. the sun was now up to meridian height, and his yellow beams falling upon its surface caused it to gleam like a sheet of gold. we could not trace the outlines of the water—for the trees partially hid it from our view—but we saw that the smoke that had at first attracted us rose up somewhere from the western shore of the lake. we returned to the camp, where we had left our companions. it was now agreed that we should all ride down the side of the barranca together, until we could find a place to descend into it. it was evident some such place existed, else, how could they have got in who had kindled the fire there? we left the mexicans in camp with our mules, and all the rest of us having mounted our horses, rode off together. we went by the eastern side, keeping well back upon the plain, so that we might not be seen until we discovered what sort of people were in the valley. when we had got opposite to where the smoke was still curling up, we stopped; and two of us, dismounting, crawled forward to the very edge of the precipice. we took care to keep some bushes, that grew along the brink, between ourselves and the lake. at length we were able to the valley oasis. get a good view of everything below; and a very strange sight that was,—at least it was very strange in such a place, where it was so little expected. there was a large lake, as i have already stated; and on its opposite side, not over a hundred yards from its edge, was a fine-looking log-house, with other smaller ones standing in the rear. there were rail-fences all around them, and a cleared space divided into fields, some of which appeared to be under cultivation, while others were green and filled with flocks of animals. the whole picture was exactly like a snug farm-house, with its stables and other outhouses, with its garden and fields, and horses and cattle! the distance was too great for us to distinguish what sort of cattle they were, but there appeared to be many kinds, both red, and black, and speckled. we could see several figures of men and boys—four of them in all—moving about the en- closures, and there was a woman near the door of the house. it was impossible in the distance to tell whe- ther they were white people, but we never imagined for a moment they could be indians. no indian could have built such a house as that. it seemed to us as though we were dreaming, to find such a picture in so unexpected a place; and it was a beautiful picture the vaixey oasis. to our eyes, coming fresh as we were from looking upon the barren desert. the lake was smooth as a mirror; the sun was shining upon it, and we could see upon its farther shore several large animals standing up to their knees in the water. there were many other striking objects which met our eyes, but we had no time to dwell upon them, and we crawled back again to our companions. it was at once agreed that we should go still far- ther down, and endeavour to find a road leading into this most singular oasis. we thought we could dis- tinguish a sort of depression in the plain near the lower end of the valley, and for this point we directed our course. after riding a few miles farther we reached the place where the stream issued out in an easterly direction. there sure enough, was the very road we were in search of, winding down along the bank of the stream, and as if carved out from the face of the precipice. it was not much wider than the track of a wagon, but was of very easy descent. we did not hesitate a moment, but com- menced riding downward. the strange settlement. chapter iv. the strange settlement. we were soon in the bottom of the valley, where we followed a plain track that led along the banks of the rivulet. we knew that that would direct us up to the lake, where we should get a view of the house. we were astonished at the great variety of trees which we saw in the woods; but there appeared to be almost as great a variety of beautiful birds, that * fluttered among the leaves as we rode forward. we came at length within sight of the opening in which the house and lake were situated. it was pru- dent to make another reconnoissance before we ad- vanced farther; and two of us, again dismounting, stole cautiously forward through a thicket of leafy shrubs. the house and all its grounds lay before us. it was a log-house—such as are met with in the western states of america—and well constructed. the strange settlement. there was a garden at one end, and fields on all sides. these fields were, as we had supposed, some of them under cultivation. we noticed one of them ■with a crop of indian corn, and another of wheat. but what most astonished us was the kind of ani- mals we saw in the enclosures. one would have thought at first sight that they were the animals usually seen around an english or american farm-house,—that is to say, horses, cattle, sheep, goats, hogs, and poultry. you may fancy, then, our surprise, when, on looking narrowly at them, we could not make out a single animal exactly resem- bling any one of the above, with the exception of horses; and even these were unlike the common kind, for they were smaller, and spotted all over like hounds! we knew that they were mustangs—the wild horses of the desert. we glanced at the animals we had taken for black cattle. what were they but buffaloes! buffaloes penned up in fields, and not heeding the human beings that passed shouting among them! more than all, we now saw that two animals yoked to the plough were of the same species,— a pair of huge buffalo bulls; and they were working with all the quietness and regularity of oxen! the strange settlement. another kind of large animals drew our attention, still taller than the buffaloes. we saw several of them standing quietly in the water of the lake, in which their huge bodies and branching horns were shadowed as in a mirror. these we knew to he elk— the great american elk. we saw several kinds of deer, and antelopes with their short pronged horns, and animals that resembled these last in size—but with immense curving horns like those of the ram— and other animals like goats or sheep. we saw some without tails, having the appearance of pigs, and others resembling foxes and dogs. we could see fowls of different kinds moving about the doors, and among others we distinguished the tall, upright form of the wild turkey. the whole picture looked like the collection of some zoological garden or menagerie. two men were seen,— one a tall, white man, with a somewhat florid complexion. the other was a short and very thick-set negro. the latter was by the plough. there were two younger men, or lads nearly grown. a woman sat by the door engaged in some occupation, and near her were two little girls, no doubt her daughters. but the sight which was strangest of all, both to the strange settlement. my companion and myself, was what appeared in front of the house, and around the little porch where the woman was sitting. it was a fearful sight to look upon. first there were two large black bears, perfectly loose, and playing with each other! then there were several smaller animals, that we had at first taken for dogs, but that we now recognised, by their bushy tails, sharp snouts, and short erect ears, to have at least as much of the wolf as dog in them. they were of that kind often met with among the indians, and might more properly be called dog- wolves than wolf-dogs. there were at least half-a- dozen of them sauntering about. but the most fearful-looking of all were two animals of a tawny red colour, that lay in crouching attitudes within the porch, almost at the feet of the woman. their round, cat-like heads and ears, their short black muzzles, their white throats, and pale reddish breasts, told us what they were at a glance. "panthers !" ejaculated my companion, drawing a long breath, and looking at me with a puzzled air. yes; they were panthers—so called by the hunters, but more properly cougars—the felis concolor of the naturalists—the hon of america. in the midst of all these fierce creatures, the two d the strange settlement. young girls were moving about, apparently uncon- cerned at their presence, while the animals ap- peared equally unconcerned about them! the whole scene reminded us of the fanciful pictures, we had seen, of that time promised in the sacred book, when "all the earth shall be at peace, and the lion shall lie down with the lamb." we did not stop to see more. we were satisfied, and went back for our companions. in five minutes after, the whole of us entered the clearing, and rode up to the house. our sudden appearance produced consternation on all sides. the men shouted to each other—the horses neighed—the dogs howled and barked hoarsely—and the fowls mingled their voices in the clamour. we were taken, no doubt, for a party of indians; but we were not long in making it understood who and what we were. as soon as our explanations were given, the white man invited us, in the politest manner, to alight, and partake of his hospitality. at the same time he gave orders for our dinners to be prepared; and, desiring us to lead our horses into one of the enclosures, he commenced throwing corn into a large wooden trough. in this he was assisted by the negro, who was his servant, and the two young lads, who appeared to be his sons. the strange settlement. as yet we had not ceased to wonder. every- thing around us was strange and inexplicable. the animals, which none of us had ever seen, except in their wild state, were as tame and gentle as farm cattle; and we noticed some new species at every turn. there were strange plants too, growing in the fields and garden, and vines trained upon espaliers, and corn-cribs filled with yellow corn, and dove-cotes, and martin-boxes, with swallows twitter- ing around them. all formed a curious but pleasing picture. we had sauntered about for an hour, when we were summoned to dinner. "follow me, gentlemen," said our host, as he led the way to the house. we entered, and seated ourselves around a good-sized table, upon which smoked several savoury and inviting dishes. some of these we recognised as old acquaintances, while others were new to us. we found venison-steaks, with buffalo tongues and hump-ribs,—the daintiest portions of that animal. there were fresh-cooked fowls, and eggs of the wild turkey boiled and dressed in omelettes. there were bread and butter, and milk and rich cheese, all set out to tempt our appetites, that, to say the truth, just at that time did not require much coaxing to do justice to the the strange settlement. viands before us. we were all quite hungry, for we had eaten nothing since morning. a large kettle simmered by the fire. what could it contain? thought we; surely, not tea or coffee. in a short time we were satisfied on this head. bowls were placed before us; and into these the hot liquid was poured, which we found to be a very palatable as well as wholesome beverage — the tea of the sassafras root. it was sweetened by maple sugar; and each helped himself to cream to his own liking. we had all tasted such tea before, and many of our party liked it as well as the tea of china. while we continued to eat, we could not help no- ticing the strangeness of everything around us. all the articles of furniture were of unique and rude description; and it was plain that most of them had been manufactured upon the spot. the vessels were of several sorts and of different materials. there were cups and dishes, and bowls cut out of shells of the gourd or calabash; and there were spoons and ladles of the same material. there were wooden platters and trays carved and scooped out of the solid tree. and more numerous were the vessels of red pottery, of different shapes and for different uses. of these there were large pots for cooking, and jars for holding water, and jugs of various dimensions. the strange settlement. the chairs, too, were all of rude construction; but admirably adapted to their purpose. most of them were covered with raw hide seats, which stretched up the back in a slanting line, and thus rendered them firm and commodious. a few lighter ones—evi- dently intended as the furniture of the inner rooms— (there were but two in the house), had bottoms woven out of the leaves of the palmetto. there was very little attempt at ornament upon the walls—if we except some curiosities that were placed there, all of which were evidently the produc- tions of the valley itself. there were stuffed birds of rare and bright plumage, and huge horns of animals, with two or three shells of the land tortoise carefully polished. there were no mirrors nor pictures, and not a book to be seen, except one; that was a medium^ized volume, placed on a small table by itself, and evidently preserved with great care as it had been neatly and elaborately bound in the skin of a young antelope. i had the curiosity to open this book, shortly after entering. i read upon the title-page the words "holy bible." this circum- stance increased the interest i already felt in our host and his family; and i sat down with feel- ings of confidence, for i knew that even in this the strange settlement. remote place we were enjoying the hospitality of a christian. during the meal our host with his family were present. we had seen them all on our arrival, for they had run forward to greet and welcome us; but we became puzzled as we listened to the conver- sation of the children. we heard with surprise that we were the first white men they had seen for a period of nearly ten years! they were all beautiful children —robust, and full of life and animation. there were two boys—frank and harry,—so their mother called them—and two girls. of the girls one was of a very dark complexion—in fact, quite a brunette, and with a spanish expression of face. the other was as fair as her sister was dark. the fair one was a beautiful little creature with flowing yellow hair and deep blue eyes, with long, dark lashes. her name was mary. that of the sister was luisa. they were both very pretty, but very unlike each other; and, what was odd to me, they appeared to be about the same age and size. the boys were also of like size, though both much older than their sisters. they appeared to be seventeen or more, but i could not have guessed which was the elder. harry, with his fair curling hair, and red manly face, bore a strong resemblance to the strange settlement. his father; while the other was darker, and altogether more like the mother. she herself did not appear to be much over thirty-five years of age, and was still a beautiful and evidently a light-hearted woman. our host was a man of about forty—a tall, well- formed man, with light ruddy complexion, and hair that had been fair and curling, but was now some- what grey. he ha■d neither beard nor whiskers; but, on the contrary, his chin bore evidence that he had freshly shaved himself that very day; and his whole appearance was that of a man who regularly attended to the duties of the toilet. there was also about him a gentlemanlike bearing; and his address and conver- sation soon convinced all of us that we were in the company of an educated man. the dress of the whole family was peculiar. the man himself wore a hunting-shirt and leggings of tanned deer-skin, and not unlike that of our own hunters. the boys were similarly attired, but we could see that they had a sort of homespun linen garment underneath. the female part of the family were dressed in clothes, part of which were of the same homespun, and part of a fine skin, that of the fawn, dressed to the softness of a glove. several hats were lying about; and we noticed that they were curiously fabricated from the leaves of the palmetto. the trange settlement. while we were eating, the negro appeared at the door, and, looking in, eyed us with glances of extreme curiosity. he was a short, stout man, black as jet, and apparently about forty years old. his head was covered with a thick crop of small curls, that appeared to form an even surface, making the outline of the skull as round as a ball. his teeth were very large and white, and anything but fierce—as he showed them only when he smiled, and that he did almost continually. there was something .very pleasing in the expression of his rich black eyes, which were never at rest, but kept always rolling on both sides of his flat and expanded nose. "cudjo! drive out these animals," said the woman—or rather lady, we should call her—for she was evidently entitled to be so styled. her com- mand, or more properly request—for she had made it in that tone—was obeyed with alacrity. cudjo leaped into the floor, and, after a short while, suc- ceeded in turning out the wolf-dogs, and panthers, and other strange animals, that up to this time had been snarling at each other, among our feet, to the no small terror of several of our party. all these things were so strange, that we watched them with interest and curiosity. at length our meal was ended; and as we were most anxious to the strange settlement. have everything explained to us, we signified this desire to our host. "wait until night," said he. "around the cheer- ful log-fire i will tell you my story. meanwhile you all need other refreshment than eating. come to the lake then, and take a bath. the sun is high and warm. a bath will refresh you after your dusty travel." so saying, he stepped out of the cottage, and pro- ceeded towards the lake, followed by all of our party. a few minutes after, we were refreshing ourselves in the crystal water. during the remainder of the day, we occupied ourselves at different employments. some went hack to the mountain foot for the mules and mexi- cans; while the rest of us strolled about the house and grounds—every now and then stumbling upon some new object of wonder. we were impatient for the coming of night, for we were wound up to a pitch of extreme curiosity, and longed for an explanation of what we saw around us. night came at length; and after an excellent supper, we all sat around the cheerful fire, to listen to the strange history of robert rolfe—for that was the name of our host. bolfe's early history. chapter v. rolfe's early history. "brothers," began he, "i am of your own race, although i am not an american. i am an english- man. i was born in the south of that country some- thing more than forty years ago. my father was a yeoman—an independent, or, as he was sometimes styled, a gentleman-farmer. unfortunately, he was a man of too much ambition for his class. he was determined that i, his only son, should be a gentle- man in the ordinary sense of the word; that is, that i should be educated in all those expensive habits and accomplishments, which are sure to lead men of moderate fortune along the direct road to ruin. this was not wise of my father; but it would not be graceful in me to reflect upon a fault, that consisted in his too great fondness for myself. i believe it was the only fault which my good, kind father, was eolfe's early history. ever charged with. beyond this somewhat foolish ambition, his character was without reproach among men. "i was sent to those schools where i should meet the scions of the aristocracy. i was taught to dance, to ride, and to play. i was allowed spending money at will, and could call for champagne, and drink it, with any of my companions. at the end of my col- lege life, i was sent upon my travels. i made the tour of the rhine, of france, and italy; and after some years spent in this way, i returned to eng- land— sent for, to be present at the death of my father. "i was now sole heir to his property, which was by no means inconsiderable for a man of his class. i soon reduced it in bulk. i must needs live in lon- don, where i could enjoy the company of many of my old school and college companions. i was wel- come amongst them while my purse held out—for many of them were needy men — lawyers without briefs, and officers with nothing to live upon but their pay. of course, such men are fond of play. they have nothing to lose, and all to win; and it was but a short year or two, until they had won from me the best part of my patrimonial property. i bolfe's early history. was on the eve of becoming a bankrupt. but one thing saved me—she saved me!" here our host pointed to his wife, who sat sur- rounded by her family at one side of the great fire- place. the lady held down her eyes and smiled; while the children, who had been listening attentively, all turned towards her with looks of interest. "yes," continued he, " mary saved me. we had been playmates together in earlier life; and at this time we again met. we felt an affection for each other. it ended in our getting married. "fortunately, my dissipated life had not destroyed, as it often does with men, all my virtuous principles. many of these, that had been early instilled into my mind by the teachings of a good mother, still re- mained fixed and true. "as soon as we were married, i resolved to change altogether my mode of life. but this is not so easily done as men imagine. once you are sur- rounded by associates, such as mine were — once you are plunged into debts and obligations—it re- quires both courage and virtuous determination to meet and discharge them. it requires a terrible effort to free one's self from evil companions, whose interest it is, that you should still remain as profli- bolfe's early history. gate as themselves. but i was resolved; and, thanks to the counsels of my mary, i succeeded in carrying out my resolve. "to pay my debts, i was compelled to sell the property left me by my father. this done, and every bill discharged, i found myself worth only five hun- dred pounds. "my little wife, there, had brought me the sum of twenty-five hundred; and this still left us three thousand pounds with which to begin the ■world. three thousand pounds is not much to live upon in england—that is, among the class of people with whom i had hitherto associated; and after spending several years in trying to increase it, i found that it was every day growing less. i found, after three years engaged in farming, that my three thousand pounds was only worth two. i was told that this sum would go much farther in america— that it would purchase me a fine home—and, with thoughts of providing well for my family, i embarked with my wife and children for new york. "there i found the very man whom i wanted— that was, some one to advise me how to begin life in the new world. my predilections were in favour of agriculture; and these were encouraged by the eolfe's early history. advice of him whom i had met. he told me that it would be unwise for me to lay out my money upon new or uncleared land; as, with my want of expe- rience as a farmer, i would have to pay more for clearing it of its timber than the land would be worth. 'it would be better for you,' continued my new acquaintance, 'to buy a tract already cleared and fenced, with a good house upon it, where you will be at home at once.' "i admitted the truth of all this reasoning; but would my money be sufficient for this ?' oh, yes,' answered he; and then he told me that he 'knew of a farm in the state of virginia,'—a plantation, as he called it, that would suit me exactly. it could be purchased for five hundred pounds. with the remainder of my money i should be able to stock it handsomely. "after some farther conversation, i found that the plantation belonged to himself. so much the better, thought i; and in the end i bought it from him, and set out immediately after for my new home. the vtrg nta plantation. chaptek vi. the virginia plantation. "i found the farm everything he had described it—a large plantation with a good wooden house, and well- enclosed fields. i immediately set about ' stocking' it with my remaining cash. what was my surprise to find that i must spend the greater part of this in buying men! yes—there was no alternative. there were no labourers to be had in the place—except such as were slaves—and these i must either buy for myself, or hire from their masters, which, in point of morality, amounted to the same thing. "thinking that i might treat them with at least as much humanity, as they appeared to receive from others, i chose the former course; and purchasing a number of blacks, both men and women, i began life as a planter. after such a bargain as that, i did not the virginia plantation. deserve to prosper; and i did not prosper, as you shall see. "my first crop failed ; in fact, it scarce returned me the seed. the second was still worse; and to my mortification i now ascertained the cause of the failure. i had come into possession of a 'worn-out' farm. the land looked well, and on sight you would have called it a fertile tract. when i first saw it myself, i was delighted with my purchase— which seemed indeed a great bargain for the small sum of money i had paid. but appearances are often deceptive; and never was there a greater decep- tion than my beautiful plantation in virginia. it was utterly worthless. it had been cropped for many years with maize, and cotton, and tobacco. these had been regularly carried off the land, and not a stalk or blade suffered to return to the soil. as a natural fact, known to almost every one, the vegetable or organic matter will thus in time become exhausted, and nothing will remain but inorganic or purely mineral substances, which of themselves cannot nourish vegetation, and of course can give no crop. this is the reason why manure is spread upon land —the manure consisting of substances that are for the most part organic, and contain the principles of the virginia plantation. life and vegetation. of course, gentlemen, these things are known to you; but you will pardon my digression, as my children are listening to me, and i never lose an opportunity of instructing them in facts that may hereafter he useful to them. "well, as i have said, i had no crops, or rather very had ones, for the first and second years. on the third it was, if possible, still worse; and on the fourth and fifth no better than ever. i need hardly add that by this time i was ruined, or very nearly so the expense of feeding and clothing my poor negroes had brought me in debt to a considerable amount. i could not have lived longer on my worthless planta- tion, even had i desired it. i was compelled, in order to pay my debts, to sell out everything—farm, cattle, and negroes. no, i did not sell all. there was one honest fellow to whom both mary and i had become attached. i was resolved not to sell him into slavery. he had served us faithfully. it was he who first told me how i had been tricked; and, sym- pathising in my misfortune, he endeavoured—both by industry on his own part, and by encouraging his fellow-labourers—to make the ungrateful soil yield me a return. his efforts had been vain, but i deter- mined to repay him for his rude but honest friendship. e the virginia plantation. i gave him his liberty. he would not accept it. he would not part from us. he is there!" as the narrator said this, he pointed to cudjo, who stood hanging by the door-post; and, delighted at these compliments which were being paid him, was showing his white teeth in a broad and affec- tionate smile. rolfe continued:— "when the sale was completed, and the account settled, i found that i had just five hundred pounds left. i had now some experience in farming; and i resolved to move out to the west—into the great valley of the mississippi. i knew that there my five hundred pounds would still set me up again in a farm as big as i wanted, where the timber was still growing upon it. "just at this time my eye fell upon some flaming advertisements in the newspapers, about a new city which was then being built at the junction of the ohio and mississippi rivers. it was called 'cairo,' and as it was situated on the fork between two of the largest and most navigable rivers in the world, it could not fail in a few years to become one of the largest cities in the world. so said the advertise- ment. there were maps of the new city everywhere, the virginia plantation. and on these were represented theatres, and banks, and court-houses, and churches of different religious denominations. there were lots offered for sale, and, along with these, small tracts of land adjoining the town—so that the inhabitants might combine the occupations of merchant and agriculturist. these lots were offered very cheap, thought i; and i did not rest, night nor day, until i had purchased one of them, and also a small farm in the adjacent country. "almost as soon as i had made the purchase, i set out to take possession. of course, i took with me my wife and children. i had now three—the two eldest being twins and about nine years old. i did not intend to return to virginia any more. our faithful cudjo accompanied us to our far western home. "it was a severe journey, but not so severe as the trial that awaited us on our arrival at 'cairo.' as soon as i came within sight of the place, i saw, to use an expressive phrase, that i had been 'sold' again. there was but one house, and that stood upon the only ground that was not a swamp. nearly the whole site of the proposed city was under water, and the part not wholly inundated consisted of a dark morass, covered with trees and tall reeds! the virginia plantation. there were no theatres, no churches, no court-house, no banks, nor any likelihood there ever would be any, except such as might be built to keep back the water from the only house in the place—a sort of rough hotel, filled with swearing boatmen. "i had landed, of course; and, after putting up at the hotel, proceeded iu search of my ' property.' i found my town-lot in a marsh, which took me over the ankles in mud. as for my farm, i was com- pelled to get a boat to visit it; and after sailing all over it without being able to touch bottom, i returned to the hotel, heartless and disgusted. "by the next steamboat that came along, i em- barked for st. louis—where i sold both lot and farm for a mere trifle. "i need not say that i was mortified at all this. i was almost heart-broken when i reflected on my repeated failures, and thought of my young wife and children. i could have bitterly cursed both america and the americans, had that been of any use; and yet such a thing would have been as unjust as immo- ral. it is true i had been twice outrageously swin- dled; but the same thing had happened to me in my own country, and i had suffered in the same way by those who professed to be my friends. there are the virginia plantation. bad men in every country—men willing to take advan- tage of generosity and inexperience. it does not follow that all are so; and we hope far less than the half—for it must be remembered that the bad points of one country are more certain to be heard of in another than its good ones. when i look to the schemes and speculations which have been got up in england, and which have enriched a few accomplished rogues, by the ruin of thousands of honest men, i cannot, as an englishman, accuse our american cou- sins of being greater swindlers than ourselves. it is true i have been deceived by them, but it was from the want of proper judgment in myself, arising from a foolish and ill-directed education. i should have been equally ill-treated in the purchase of a horse at tattersall's, or a pound of tea in piccadilly, had i been equally unacquainted with the value of the arti- cles. we both, as nations, have erred. neither of us can, with grace, cast a stone at the other; and as for myself, why, look there!" said rolfe, smil- ing and pointing to his family, "two of my children only are englishmen; the others are little yankees. almost every englishman can say something similar. why, then, should we sow jealousy between them?" the caravan and its fate. chapter vii. the caravan and its fate. our host continued:— "well, my friends, i was in st. louis. i had now left out of my three thousand pounds not quite an hundred; and this would soon melt away should i remain idle. what was i to do? "there happened to be a young scotchman at the hotel where i had put up. he was, like myself, a stranger in st. louis; and being from the 'old country,' we soon became acquainted, and, very naturally under the circumstances, shared each other's confidence. i told him of my blunders in virginia and cairo, and i believe that he really felt sympathy for me. in return, he detailed to me part of his past history, and also his plans for the future. he had been for several years employed in a copper mine, away near the centre of the great american the caravan and its fate. desert, in the mountains called los mimbres, that lie west of the del norte river. "they are a wonderful people these same scotch. they are but a small nation, yet their influence is felt everywhere upon the globe. go where you will, you will find them in positions of trust and im- portance—always prospering, yet, in the midst of prosperity, still remembering, with strong feelings of attachment, the land of their birth. they manage the marts of london—the commerce of india—the fur trade of america—and the mines of mexico. over all the american wilderness you will meet them, side by side with the backwoods-pioneer him- self, and even pushing him from his own ground. from the gulf of mexico to the arctic sea, they have impressed with their gaelic names rock, river, and mountain; and many an indian tribe owns a scotch- man for its chief. i say, again, they are a wonderful people. "well; my st. louis scotchman had come from his mine upon a visit of business to the united states, and was now on his return by st. louis and santa fe. his wife was along with him—a fine-looking, young mexican woman, with only one child. he was waiting for a small caravan of spanish people, who the caravan and its fate. were about to start for new mexico. with these he intended to travel, so as to be in safety from the indians along the route. "as soon as he understood my situation, he advised me to accompany him — offering me a lucra- tive situation in the mine, of which he was the sole manager. "disgusted as i then was with the treatment i had received in the united states, i embraced his pro- posal with alacrity; and, under his superintendence, i set about making preparations for the long journey that lay before us. the money, i had left, enabled me to equip myself in a tolerable manner. i bought a wagon and two pair of stout oxen. this was to carry my wife and children, with such furniture and provisions as would be necessary on the journey. i had no need to hire a teamster, as our faithful cudjo was to accompany us, and i knew there was no better hand to manage a team of oxen than cudjo. for myself i purchased a horse, a rifle, with all the para- phernalia that are required by those who cross the great prairies. my boys, harry and frank, had also a small rifle each, which we had brought with us from virginia: and harry was very proud of the manner in which he could handle his. the caravan and its fate. "everything being prepared, we bade adieu to st. louis, and set forth upon the wild prairies. "ours was but a small caravan, as the large one which crosses annually to santa fe had taken its departure some weeks before. there were about twenty men of us, and less than half that number of wagons. the men were nearly all mexicans, who had been to the united states to procure some pieces of cannon, for which they had been sent by the gover- nor of santa fe. they had the cannon along with them—two brass howitzers, with their carriages and caissons. "my friends, i need not tell you the various inci- dents that befell us, in crossing the great plains and rivers that lie between st. louis and santa fe. upon the plains we fell in with the pawnees; and near the crossing of the arkansas, we encountered a small tribe of cheyennes; but neither of these bands offered us any molestation. when we were nearly two months on our journey, the party left the usual trail taken by the traders, and struck across to one of the head tributaries of the canadian river. this they did to avoid meeting the arapahoes, who were hostile to the mexican people. we kept down the banks of this stream as far as the canadian the caravan and its fate. itself; and, then turning westward, travelled up the latter. we travelled upon the right or southern bank, for we had forded the canadian on reach- ing it. "it soon became apparent that we had got into a very rough and difficult country. it was the morning of the second day, after we had turned west- ward up the canadian river. we were making but slow progress, as the trail we had to follow was intersected at frequent intervals with buffalo roads running into the river from the south. many of these were deep ditches, although quite dry; and every now and then we were compelled to stop the whole train until we levelled in the banks, and made, a road for the wagons to pass. "in crossing one of these ruts, the tongue of my wagon was- broken; and cudjo and i, having loosed out the oxen, set about splicing it the best way we could. the rest of the train was ahead of us, and kept moving on. my friend, the young scotchman, seeing that we had stopped, came galloping back, and offered to remain and assist us. i declined his offer, telling him to move on with the rest, as i would easily overtake them; at all events, i would get up, whenever they halted for their night the caravan and its fate. camp. it was not unfrequent for a single wagon, with its attendants, thus to stay behind the rest, to make some repairs. when it did not come up to the night encampment, a party would go back early the next morning to ascertain the cause of the delay. for several years, before the time i am telling you about, there had been no trouble with the indians in crossing the prairies; and consequently the people of the caravans had grown less cautious. besides, we were then in a part of the country where indians had been seldom seen—as it was an extremely desert place, without grass or game of any description. on this account—and knowing that cudjo was an excel- lent carpenter—i had no fears but that i could be up with the others before night. so, by my persuasion, the young scotchman left me, and rode on to look after his own wagons. "after about an hour's hammering and splicing, cudjo and i got the tongue all right again; and 'hitching up' the oxen, we drove on after our companions. we had not gone a mile, when the shoeing of one of the wheels—that had shrunk from the extreme dryness of the atmosphere—rolled off; and the felloes came very near flying asunder. we were luckily able to prevent this, by suddenly stop- the caravan and its fate. ping, and setting a prop under the body of the wagon. this, as you may perceive, was a much more serious accident than the breaking of the tongue; and at first i thought of galloping forward, and asking some of our companions to come back to my assist- ance. but in consequence of my inexperience upon the prairies, i knew that i had given them consider- able trouble along the route, at which some of them had murmured—being mexicans — and in one or two instances had refused to assist me. i might bring back the young scotchman, it was true, but— 'come!' cried i, 'it is not yet as bad as cairo. come, cudjo! we shall do it ourselves, and be in- debted to no one.' "' dat's right, massa roff!' replied cudjo; 'ebery man put him own shoulder to him own wheel, else de wheel no run good.' "and so the brave fellow and i stripped off our coats, and set to work in earnest. my dear mary here, who had been brought up a delicate lady, but could suit herself gracefully to every situation, helped us all she could, cheering us every now and then with an allusion to cairo, and our farm under the water. it has always a comforting effect, to per- sons in situations of difficulty, to reflect that they the caravan and its fate. might still be worse off, and such reflections will often prop up the drooping spirits, and lead to success in conquering the difficulty. 'never give up' is a good old motto, and god will help them who show perseverance and energy. "so did it happen with us. by dint of wedging and hammering we succeeded in binding the wheel as fast as ever; but it was near night before we had finished the job. when we had got it upon the axle again, and were ready for the road, we saw, with some apprehension, that the sun was setting. we knew we could not travel by night, not knowing what road to take; and, as we were close to water, we resolved to stay where we were until morning. "we were up before day, and, having cooked and eaten our breakfasts, moved forward upon the track made by the caravan. we wondered that none of our companions had come back during the night —as this is usual in such cases,—but we expected every moment to meet some of them returning to look after us. we travelled on, however, until noon, and still none of them appeared. we could see before us a rough tract of country with rocky hills, and some trees growing in the valleys; and the trail we were following evidently led among these. the caravan and its fate. "as we pushed forward, we heard among the hills a loud crashing report like the bursting of a bombshell. what could it mean? we knew there were some shells along with the howitzers. were our comrades attacked by indians, and was it one of the cannon they had fired upon them? no; that could not be. there was but one report, and i knew that the discharge of a shell from a howitzer must give two,—that which accompanies the discharge, and then the bursting of the bomb itself. could one of the shells have burst by accident? that was more likely; and we halted, and listened for further sounds. we stopped for nearly half an hour, but could hear nothing, and we then moved on again. we were filled with apprehension—less from the report we had heard, than from the fact that none of the men had come back to see what delayed us. we still fol- lowed the track of the wagons. we saw that they must have made a long march on the preceding day, for it was near sunset when we entered among the hills, and as yet we had not reached their camp of the night before. at length we came in sight of it, —and oh! horror! what a sight! my blood runs cold when i recall it to my memory. there were the wagons — most of them with their tilts torn the caravan and its fate. off, and part of their contents scattered over the ground. there were the cannons too, with fires smouldering near them, but not a human being was in sight! yes, there were human beings—dead men lying over the ground! and living things—wolves they were—growling, and quarrelling, and tearing the flesh from their bodies! some of the animals that had belonged to the caravan were also prostrate— dead horses, mules, and oxen. the others were not to be seen. "we were all horror-struck at the sight. we saw at once that our companions had been attacked and slaughtered by some band of savage indians. we would have retreated, but it was now too late, for we were close in to the camp, before we had seen it. had the savages still been upon the ground, retreat would be of no avail. but i knew that they must have gone some time, from the havoc the wolves had made in their absence. "i left my wife by our wagon, where harry and frank remained with their little rifles ready to guard her, and along with cudjo i went forward to view the bloody scene. we chased the wolves from their re- past. there was a pack of more than fifty of these hideous animals, and they only ran a short distance the caravan and its fate. from us. on reaching the ground we saw that the bodies were those of our late comrades, but they were all so mutilated that we could not distinguish a single one of them. they had every one been scalped by the indians; and it was fearful to look upon them as ^ they lay. i saw the fragments of one of the shells that had burst in the middle of the camp, and had \ torn two or three of the wagons to pieces. the\:e had not been many articles of merchandise in this wagons, as it was not a traders' caravan; but suclr* things as they carried, that could be of any value to the indians, had been taken away. the other articles, most of them heavy and cumbersome things, were lying over the ground, some of them broken. it was evident the savages had gone off in a hurry. perhaps they had been frightened by the bursting of the shell, not knowing what it was, and from its ter- rible effects—which they no doubt witnessed and felt—believing it to be the doing of the great spirit. "i looked on all sides for my friend, the young scotchman, but i could not distinguish his body from the rest. i looked around, too, for his wife— who was the only woman besides mary that accom- panied the caravan. her body was not to be seen. 'no doubt,' said i to cudjo, 'the savages have the caravan and its fate. g carried her off alive.' at this moment we heard the howls and hoarse worrying of dogs, with the fiercer snarling of wolves, as though the dogs were battling with these animals. the noises came from a thicket near the camp. we knew that the miner had brought with him two large dogs from st. louis. it must be they. we ran in the direction of the thicket, and dashed in among the bushes. guided by the noises, we kept on, and soon came in sight of the objects that had attracted us. two large dogs, foaming and torn and covered with blood, were battling against several wolves, and keeping them off from some dark object that lay among the leaves. we saw that the dark object was a woman, and clinging around her neck, and screaming with terror, was a beautiful child! at a glance we saw that the woman was dead, and" here the narrative of our host was suddenly inter- rupted. m'knight, the miner, who was one of our party, and who had appeared labouring under some excitement during the whole of the recital, suddenly sprang to his feet, exclaiming,— "o god! my wife—my poor wife! oh! rolfe— jrolfe—do you not know me?" "m'knight!" cried rolfe, springing up with p the caravan and its fate. an air of astonishment, "m'knight! it is he in- deed!" "my wife!—my poor wife!" continued the miner, in accents of sorrow. "i knew they had killed her. i saw her remains afterwards—but my child! oh, rolfe ! what of my child?" "she is there!" said our host, pointing to the darkest of the two girls, and the next moment the miner had lifted the little luisa in his arms, and was covering her with his kisses. he was her father! the miner's story. chapter viii. the miner's story. it would be very difficult, my young readers, to describe to you the scene which followed this unex- pected recognition. the family had all risen to their feet, and with cries and tears in their eyes clung around the little luisa as though they were about to lose her for ever. and, indeed, it is likely that an indistinct thought of this kind had flitted across their minds, when they saw that she was no longer their sister—for they had almost forgotten that she was not so, and they loved her as well as if she was. up to this time none of them had thought of her in any other way than as a sister; and harry, with whom she was a great favourite, used to call her his "dark sister," while the younger, mary, was known as the "fair" one. in the midst of the group stood the little brunette, the miner's story. like the rest, overwhelmed with singular emotions, but calmer, and apparently more mistress of her feelings, than any of them. the traders and hunters were all upon their feet congratulating m'knight on the happy event; while each of them shook hands with our host and his wife, whom they now remembered having heard of, as well as the story of the massacre. old cudjo leaped over the floor, whipping the panthers and wolf-dogs, and cutting various capers, while the very animals themselves howled with a sort of fierce joy. our host went into an inner apartment of the cabin, and pre- sently returned with a large jar of brown earthen- ware. cups cut out of the calabash were set upon the table; and into these a red liquid was poured from the jar, and we were all invited to drink. what was our surprise on tasting the beverage to find that it was wine—wine in the middle of the desert! but it was so—excellent wine — home- made, as our host informed us—pressed from the wild muscadine grapes that grew in plenty through the valley. as soon as we had all passed the cups of wine, and had got fairly seated again, m'knight, at the request of bolfe, took up the thread of the story, in the miners story. order to detail how he had escaped from the indians on that fearful night. his story was a short one, and ran as follows :— "after i left you," said he, addressing rolfe, "where you had broken your wagon, i rode on, and overtook the caravan. the road, as you may remember, became smooth and level; and as there appeared to be no good camping-ground nearer than the hills, we kept on for them without stopping. it was near sundown, when we reached the little stream where you saw the wagons. there, of course, we halted, and formed our camp. i did not expect you to come in for an hour or so later, as i calculated that it would take you about that length of time to mend the tongue. we kindled fires, and, having cooked our suppers and eaten them, were sitting around the logs chatting, smoking, and some of the mexicans, as is their custom, playing at tnonte. we had put out no guard, as we had no expectation that there were indians in that quarter. some of the men said they had travelled the trail before; and had never met an indian within fifty miles of the place. at length it became dark, and i began to grow uneasy about you, fearing you might not be able to make out our trail in the night. ro the miker's story. leaving my wife and child by one of the fires, i climbed a hill that looked in the direction you should have come; but i could see nothing for the darknessj i stood for some time listening, thinking i might hear the rattle of your wheels, or some one of you talking. all at once a yell broke upon my ears, that caused me to turn toward the camp with a feeling of consternation. i well knew the meaning of that yell. i knew it was the war-cry of the arapahoes. i saw savage figures dashing about in the red glare of the fires. i heard shots and shouts, and screams and groans; and, among the rest, i recognised the voice of my wife calling me by name! "i did not hesitate a moment, but ran down the hill, and flung myself into the thick of the fight, which was now raging fiercely. i had nothing in my hands but a large knife, with which i struck on all sides, prostrating several of the savages. here i fought for a moment, and there i ran, calling for my wife. i passed through among the wagons, and on all sides of the camp crying, 'luisa!' there was no answer; she was nowhere to be seen. again i was face to face with painted savages, and battling with desperation. most of my comrades were soon killed, and i was forced out among the bushes, the miner's story. and into the darkness, by one of the indians, who pressed upon me with his spear. i felt the weapon pass through my thigh, and i fell impaled upon the shaft. the indian fell upon top of me; but, before he could struggle up again, i had thrust him with my knife, and he lay senseless. "i rose to my feet, and succeeded in drawing out the spear. i saw that the struggle had ceased around the fires; and, believing that my comrades, as well as my wife and child, were all dead, i turned my back upon the fires, and stole off into the thicket, determined to get as far as possible from the camp. i had not gone more than three hundred yards when i fell, exhausted with the loss of blood and the pain of my wound. i had fallen near some rocks at the bottom of a precipice, where i saw there was a small crevice or cave. i had still strength enough left to enable me to reach this cave, and crawl into it; but i fainted as soon as the effort was over. "i must have lain insensible for many hours. when i came to consciousness again, i saw that daylight was shining into the cave. i felt that i was very weak, and could scarce move myself. my wound stared me in the face,—still undressed, but the blood had ceased flowing of its own accord. i tore up my to the mtner's story. shirt, and dressed it as well as i was able; and then, getting nearer to the mouth of the cave, i lay and listened. i could hear the voices of the indians, though very indistinctly, in the direction of the camp. this continued for an hour or more; and then the rocks rang with a terrible explosion, which i knew to be the bursting of a shell. after that i could hear loud shouts, and soon after, the hurried tramp- ling of many horses; and then all was silence. i thought at the time that the indians had taken their departure; but i knew not what had caused them to go off in such a hurry. i found out afterwards. your conjecture was right. they had thrown one of the bombs into the fire, and the fuse catching, had caused it to explode, killing several of their number. as they believed it to be the hand of the great spirit, they had hastily gathered up such plunder as was most desirable to them, and ridden away from the spot. i did not know this at the time, and i lay still in my cave. for several hours all was silence; but, as night drew near, i fancied i again heard noises about the camp, and i thought the indians might not yet be gone. "when darkness came, i would have crawled toward the camp, but i could not; and i lay all the miner's story. night in the cave, chafing with the pain of my wound, and listening to the howling of the wolves. that was a terrible night. "morning dawned again, and i could hear no sounds. i was now suffering dreadfully, both from hunger and thirst. i saw a well-known tree growing in front of the cave. i knew it, because the same tree is found upon the mountains of the mimbres, near our mine. it was a species of pine, called by the mexicans 'pinon,' whose cones afford food to thousands of the miserable savages who roam over the great western desert from the rocky mountains to california. if i could only reach this tree, i might find some of its nuts upon the ground; and, with this hope, i dragged myself painfully out of the cave. it was not twenty paces from the rocks where the tree grew; yet, with my weakness and the pain of my wound, i was nearly half an hour in reaching it. to my joy, i found the ground under it covered with cones. i was not long in stripping off the rinds of many of them, and getting the seeds, which i ate greedily, until i had satisfied my hunger. "but another appetite far more terrible was crav- ing me—i was tortured with thirst. could i crawl as far as the camp? i knew that there i should find the miner's story. water in the stream; and, from the position of the cave, i knew i could not find it nearer. i must either reach it or die; and, with this thought to spur me on, i commenced the short journey of three hun- dred yards, although i was not certain i might live to see the end of it. i had not crawled six paces through the underwood, when a bunch of small white flowers attracted my attention. they were the flowers of the sorrel-tree—the beautiful lyonia—the very sight of which sent a thrill of gladness through my heart. i was soon under the tree, and, clutching one of its lowermost branches, i stripped it of its smooth, ser- rated leaves, and eagerly chewed them. another and another branch were successively divested of their foliage, until the little tree looked as if a flock of goats had been breakfasting upon it. i lay for nearly an hour masticating the soft leaves, and swal- lowing their delicious and acid juice. at length my thirst was alleviated, and i fell asleep under the cool shadow of the lyonia. "when i awoke again, i felt much stronger, and with new appetite to eat. the fever which had begun to threaten me was much allayed; and i knew this was to be attributed to the virtue of the leaves i had eaten—for besides giving relief to thirst, the sap of the miner's story. the sorrel-tree is a most potent febrifuge. gathering a fresh quantity of the leaves, and tying them toge- ther, i again set out for the pinon-tree. i took the leaves with me, so that i should not have to make the return trip to the sorrel that night again. in a few minutes i had reached the end of my journey, and was busy among the cones. you laugh at my call- ing it a journey; but i assure you it was a most painful one to me, although it was not ten paces from one tree to the other. the slightest motion agonized me. "that night i passed under the pinon, and in the morning, having made my breakfast of the seeds, i collected my pockets full, and set out again for the sorrel-tree. here i spent the day; and with a fresh cargo of leaves returned at night to the pinon, where i again slept. "thus, for four successive days and nights, i passed between these two brave trees, living upon the sustenance they afforded. the fever was luckily warded off by the leaves of the friendly lyonia. my wound began to heal, and the pain left it. the wolves came at intervals; but, seeing my long knife, and that i still lived, they kept at a wary distance. "although the leaves of the sorrel assuaged my the miner's story. thirst, they did not satisfy it. i longed for a good draught of water; and, on the fourth day, i set out for the stream. i was now able to creep upon my hands and one knee, dragging the wounded limb after. when i had got about half-way through the under- wood, i came upon an object that almost congealed the blood in my veins. it was a human skeleton. i knew it was not that of a man — i knew it was" here the voice of the miner became choked with sobs, and he was unable to finish the sentence. nearly all in the room — even the rude hunters — wept as they beheld his emotion. after an effort he continued:— "i saw that she had been buried; and i won- dered at this, for i knew the indians had not done it. i was never certain until this hour who had performed for her that sacred rite. i thought, however, it must have been you; for after i had re- covered i went back upon the trail; and, not finding your wagon anywhere, i knew you must have come on to the camp, and gone away again. i looked in every direction to find which way you had gone; but, as you will remember, there was a heavy fall of rain shortly after, and that had obliterated every track. all this happened after i was able to get upon my the miner's story. feet, which was not for a month after the night of the massacre. but let me go back in my narrative to where i had found the remains of my poor wife. "the wolves had torn the body from its grave. i looked for some vestige of my child. with my hands i dug down into the loose mould and leaves, which you had thrown over her body; but no infant was there. i crawled on to the camp. i found that, just as you have described it—except that the bodies were now bleaching skeletons, and the wolves had taken their departure. i searched around, on all sides, thinking i might find some traces of my little luisa; but in vain. 'the indians have either carried the child away,' thought i, ' or the fierce wolves have devoured it altogether.' "in one of the wagons i found an old mess chest lying hid under some rubbish. it had escaped the hurried plunder of the savages. on opening it, i saw that it contained, among other things, some coffee and several pounds of jerked meat. this was a fortunate event, for the meat and coffee nourished me, until i was able to gather a sufficient quantity of the pinons. "in this way i spent a whole month, sleeping in one of the wagons at night, and crawling off to col- . the mrneh's story. lect pifions during the day. i had but little fear that the indians would return; for i knew that that part of the country was not inhabited by any tribe; and we must have fallen in with a party of the ara- pahoes, wandering out of their usual range. as soon as i grew strong enough, i dug a grave, where i interred the remains of my poor wife; and now i began to think of taking my leave of that melancholy scene. "i knew that i was not much more than a hundred miles distant from the eastern settlements of new mexico; but a hundred miles of uninhabited wilder- ness, and on foot, was a barrier that seemed almost as impassable as the ocean itself. i was determined, however, to make the attempt; and i set about sew- ing a bag in which i should carry my roasted pinons — the only provision i could get to sustain me through the journey. "while engaged in this operation, with my eyes fixed upon the work, i heard footsteps near me. i raised my head suddenly, and in alarm. what was my joy, when i saw that the object which had startled me was neither more nor less than a mule, that was slowly coming towards the camp! i recognised it as one of the mules that had belonged to our caravan. the miner's story. "the animal had not yet observed me; and i thought it might shy away, if i showed myself too sud- denly. i resolved, therefore, to capture it by strata- gem. i crept into the wagon, where i knew there was a lazo; and having got hold of this, i placed myself in ambush, where i saw the mule would most likely pass. i had scarcely got the noose ready, when, to my extreme satisfaction, the mule came directly to where i lay expecting it. the next moment its neck was firmly grasped in the loop of the lazo, and the animal itself stood tied to the tongue of one of the wagons. it was one of our mules that had escaped from the indians, and after wandering over the country for weeks had now found the track, and would, no doubt, had i not caught it, have found its way back to st. louis; for this is by no means an unfrequent occur- rence with animals that stray off from the caravans. it soon became tame with me, and in a few days more i had manufactured a bridle and saddle; and, mounting with my bag of roasted pinons, i rode off on the trail for santa fe. in about a week i reached that place in safety, and continued on southward to the mine. "my history since that time can have but little interest for any of you. it is that of a man sor the miker's story. rowing for the loss of all he loved on earth. but you, rolfe, you have given me new life in restoring to me my child, my luisa; and every chapter of your history, woven as it is with hers, will be to me, at least, of the deepest interest. go on then, —go on!" with this the miner concluded; and our host, after inviting each of us to re-fill our cups with wine, and our pipes with tobacco, resumed his narrative where he had left it off, in consequence of the happy, but unexpected episode, to which it had led. lost in the desert. chapter ix. lost in the desert. "well, my friends," proceeded our host, "it was a terrible sight to look upon—those fierce, gaunt wolves —the mad and foaming mastiffs—the dead mother, and the terrified and screaming child. of course, the wolves fled at the approach of myself and cudjo, and the dogs whimpered with delight. well they might, poor brutes! for had we not come to their aid, they could not have held out much longer against such fearful odds. although the battle had not been a long one, and commenced most likely after we had driven the wolves from the camp, yet the poor mastiffs were torn and bleeding in many places. as i stooped down to take up the little luisa, she still clung close around the neck of her mother, cry- ing for her ' mamma' to awake. i saw that her mamma would never wake again. she was lifeless and cold. a lost in the desert. there -was an arrow in her breast. it was plain, that after receiving this wound she had fled into the thicket—no doubt followed by the faithful dogs—and, favoured by the darkness, had kept on, until she had fallen and died. the position of her arms showed that she had breathed her last clasping her child to her bosom. "leaving cudjo to guard the body, i carried the child back to my own wagon. although so lately terrified with the battle of the wolves and dogs, the little creature cried at being separated from its mother, and struggled in my arms to be taken back." here rolfe's narrative was again interrupted by the sobs of m'knight, who—although a firm, lion- hearted man—could not restrain himself on listening to these painfully affecting details. the children of rolfe, too, repeatedly wept aloud. the "dark sister" herself seemed least affected of all. perhaps that terrible scene, occurring at such an early period of her life, had impressed her character with the firm- ness and composure which afterwards marked it. every now and then she bent towards the "fair one," throwing her arms around the neck of the lat- ter, and endeavouring to restrain her tears. "i gave the child to my wife," continued rolfe, lost in the desert. after a pause, " and in the company of little mary, then about her own age, she soon ceased crying, and fell asleep in my wife's bosom. i took a spade which i had in my wagon, and going back i dug a grave; and, with the help of cudjo, hastily interred the body. i say hastily, for we did not know the mo- ment we might stand in need of some one to do as much for ourselves. it seems that our labour was in vain; yet even at the time, had we known this was to be the case, we should not the less have acted as we did. there was some satisfaction in per- forming this last sacred and christian ceremony for our murdered friend; and both cudjo and i felt it to be nothing more than our duty. "we did not remain any longer near the spot, but hastening back to our wagon, i led the oxen in among some trees, where they might be hidden from view. commending my wife and little ones to god, i shouldered my rifle, and set out—for the purpose of discovering whether the savages had left the place, and in what direction they had gone. it was my intention, should i be able to satisfy myself about the road they had taken, to go by some other course, yet by one that would bring me back into the trail, so that i could go on to the country of new lost is the desert. mexico. i knew very well that at that late season, and with oxen worn out, as ours were, i could never get back to st. louis—which was nearly eight hundred miles distant. "after proceeding a mile or two—creeping through bushes, and skulking behind rocks—i saw the trail of the indians striking out into an open plain, in a due westerly direction. they must have formed a large band, and all mounted, as the tracks of their horses testified. seeing that they had moved off westward, i formed the resolution of making two or three days' journey to the south, and afterwards turning in a westerly direction. this would most likely secure me from meeting them again, and would bring me, as i guessed, to the east- ern ranges of the rocky mountains through which i might pass into the valley of new mexico. i had heard my companions speak of a more southern pass through these mountains, than that which lies near santa fe; and i hoped to be able to reach it, although i believed it to be two hundred miles distant. with these plans in my mind, i returned to where i had left my little party. "it was night when i got back to the wagon, and i found mary and the children in great distress lost in the desert. at my delay; but i had brought them good news— that the indians were gone away. "i had thought of remaining all night where we ■were; but, not being yet fully satisfied that the indians were gone, i changed my intention. seeing that we were to have a moon, and that a smooth plain stretched away towards the south, i con- cluded that it would be better to make a night jour- ney of it, and put twenty miles, if possible, between us and the camp. all agreed with this proposal. in fact, we were all equally anxious to get away from that fearful spot; and had we stayed by it, not one of us could have slept a wink. the apprehension that the savages might return, and the excited state of our feelings—to say nothing of the terrible howl- ing of the wolves—would have kept us awake; so, resolving to take our departure, we waited for the rising of the moon. "we did not waste time, my friends. you all know that water is the great want in these deserts, both for man and beast. we knew not where or when we might next find it; so we took the precau- tion to fill our vessels at the stream. we filled all we had that would hold water. alas! these were not enough, as you shall hear. lost in the desert. "the moon rose at length. she seemed to smile upon the horrid picture that lay below at the de- serted camp; but we stayed no longer to contem- plate it. leading our oxen out of their cache, we struck out into the open plain, in a direction as nearly south as i could guide myself. i looked northward for the star in the tail of the little bear—the polar star—which i soon found by the pointers of the ursa major; and keeping this directly on our backs, we proceeded on. whenever the inequalities of the ground forced us out of our track, i would again turn to this little star, and consult its unfailing index. there it twinkled in the blue heavens like the eye of a friend. it was the finger of god pointing us onward. "and onward we went—here creeping around some gaping fissure, that opened across our track—there wading over a sandy swell—and anon rolling briskly along the smooth, herbless plain; for the country we were passing through was a parched and treeless desert. "we made a good night's journey of it, cheered by the prospect of escaping from the savages. when day broke, we were twenty miles from the camp. the rough hills that surrounded it were completely lost to lost in the desert. our view, and we knew from this that we had travelled a long way; for some of these hills were of great height. we knew that we must have passed over a considerable arc of the earth's surface before their tops could have sunk below the horizon. of course, some intervening ridges, such as the sandy swells i have mentioned, helped to hide them from our view; but, at all events, we had the satisfaction of knowing that the savages, even had they returned to the camp, could not now see us from that point. we only feared the chances of their discovering our tracks, and following us. urged by this apprehen- sion, we did not halt when the day broke, but kept on until near noontide. then we drew up—for our oxen, as well as the horse, were completely tired down, and could go no farther without rest. "it was but a poor rest for them—with neither grass nor water—not a blade of anything green except the artemisia plant, the wild wormwood — which, of course, neither horse nor oxen would touch. this grew all around us in low thickets. its gnarled and twisted bushes, with their white silvery leaves, so far from gladdening the eye, only served to render the scene more dreary and desolate—for we knew that this plant denoted the extreme barrenness lost in the desert. of the soil. we knew that, wherever it grew, the desert was around it. "it was, indeed, but a poor rest for our animals— for the hot sun glanced down upon them during the noon hours, making them still more thirsty. we could not afford them a drop of the precious water; for we ourselves were oppressed with extreme thirst, and our stock was hourly diminishing. it was as much as we could to spare a small quantity to the dogs, castor and pollux. "long before night, we once more yoked to the oxen, and continued our journey, in the hope of reaching some stream or spring. by sunset we had made ten miles farther to the south, but no landmark as yet appeared in sight—nothing to indi- cate the presence of water. we could see nothing around us but the sterile plain stretching on all sides to the horizon—not even a bush, or rock, or the form of a wild animal, relieved the monoto- nous expanse. we were as much alone, as if we had been in an open boat in the middle of the ocean! "we began to grow alarmed, and to hesitate. should we go back? no, that would never do. "even had the prospect at the end of a backward journey been lost in the desert. more cheering, we felt uncertain whether we might be able to reach the stream we had just left. we should surely reach water as soon by keeping for- ward; and with this thought we travelled on through all the livelong night. "when morning came, i again surveyed the hori- zon, but could see no object along its level line. i was riding gloomily alongside the poor oxen, watch- ing their laborious efforts, when a voice sounded in my ears. it was that of frank, who was stand- ing in the fore part of the wagon, looking out from tinder the tilt. "' papa! papa!' cried he, 'look at the pretty white cloud!' "i looked up at the boy, to see what he meant. i saw that he was pointing to the south-east, and i turned my eyes in that direction. i uttered an ex- clamation of joy, which startled my companions; for i saw that what frank had taken for a white cloud was the snowy cap of a mountain! i might have seen it before, had my eyes been searching in that quarter; but they were not, as i was examining the sky towards the south and west. "guided by no very extraordinary experience, i knew that where there was snow there must be lost in the desert. water; and, without another word, i directed cudjo to head his oxen for the mountain. it was out of the way we wanted to go; but we thought not of that, for the saving of our lives had now grown to be the only question with us. "the mountain was still twenty miles distant. we could have seen it much farther off, but we had been travelling through the night. the question was, would our oxen be able to reach it? they were already tottering in their tracks. if they should break down, could we reach it? our water was all gone, and we were suffering from thirst as the sun rose. a river, thought i, must run from the mountain, fed by the melting of its snows. perhaps we might come to this river before arriving at the mountain foot. but, no;—the plain evidently sloped down from us to the mountain. whatever stream ran from it must go the other way. we should find no water before reaching the mountain—perhaps, not then; and, tortured with these doubts, we pushed gloomily forward. "by noon the oxen began to give out. one of them fell dead, and we left him. the other three could not go much farther. every article that was of no present use was thrown from the wagon to lost in the desert. lighten it, and left lying on the plain; but still the poor brutes were scarce able to drag it along. we went at a snail's pace. "a short rest might recruit the animals, but i could not bring myself to halt again, as my heart was agonized by the cries of my suffering children. mary bore up nobly; so, too, did the boys. for my- self, i could not offer a word of consolation, for i knew that we were still ten miles from the foot of the moun- tain. i thought of the possibility of riding on ahead, and bringing back some water in the vessels; but i saw that my horse could never stand it. he was even now unable to carry me, and i was afoot, leading him. cudjo also walked by the side of the oxen. another of these now gave up, and only two re- mained to drag the vehicle. "at this terrible moment several objects appeared before us on the plain, that caused me to cry out with delight. they were dark-green masses, of dif- ferent sizes—the largest of them about the size of a bee-cap. they looked like a number of huge hedge- hogs rolled up, and presenting on all sides their thorny spikes. on seeing them, i dropped my horse; and, drawing my knife, ran eagerly forward. my companions thought i had gone mad, not under- lost in the desert. standing why i should have drawn my knife on such harmless-looking objects, and not knowing what they were. but i knew well what they were: i knew they were the globe cacti. "in a moment's time i had peeled the spikelets from several of them; and as the wondering party came up, and saw the dark-green succulent veget- ables, with the crystal water oozing out of their pores, they were satisfied that i had not gone mad. "in a short while, we had cut the huge spheroids into slices, which we chewed with avidity. we set some of them also before the horse and oxen, both of which devoured them greedily, sap, fibres, and all; while the dogs lapped the cool liquid wherever they were cut "it is true, that this did not quench thirst, in the same way that a drink of water would have done; but it greatly relieved us, and would, perhaps, enable us to reach the mountain. we resolved to halt for a short while, in order to rest the oxen. unfortu- nately, the relief had come too late for one of them. it had been his last stretch; and when we were about to start again, we found that he had lain down and was unable to rise. we saw that we must leave him; and, taking such harness as we could find, we lost in the desert. put the horse in his place, and moved onward. we were in hopes of finding another little garden of cactus plants; but none appeared, and we toiled on, suffering as before. "when we had got within about five miles of the mountain-foot, the other ox broke down, and fell—aa we supposed—dead. we could take the wagon no farther; but it was no time either to hesitate or halt: we must try it afoot, or perish where we were. "i loosed out the horse, and left him to his will—i saw he was no longer able to carry any of us. i took an axe from the wagon—also a tin pot, and a piece of dry beef that still remained to us. cudjo shouldered the axe and little mary; i carried the beef, the pot, luisa, and my rifle; while my wife, frank, and harry, each held something in their hands. thus burdened, we bade adieu to the wagon, and struck off toward the mountain. the dogs folio sved; and the poor horse, not willing to be left behind, came tottering after. "there is not much more of that journey to be detailed. we toiled through those five miles the best way we coura. as we drew nearer to the mountain, we could see deep dark ravines running down its sides, and in the bottom of one we lost in the desert. distinguished a silvery thread, which we knew was the foam of water as it dashed over the rocks. the sight gave us new energy, and in another hour we had reached the hanks of a crystal stream, and were offering thanks for our deliverance. adventure with an armadillo. chapter x. adventure with an armadillo. "well, my friends, we had arrived on the banks of a rivulet, and were thanking god for bringing us safely there. we soon satisfied our thirst, as you may believe, and began to look around us. the stream we had reached was not that which runs into the valley here, but altogether on the other side of the mountain. it was but a mere rill, and i saw that several similar ones issued from the ravines, and after running a short distance into the plain, fell off toward the south-east, and united with others running from that side. i found after- wards that they all joined into the same channel, forming a considerable river, which runs from this elevated plain in an easterly direction; and which i take to be a head-water of the great red river of louisiana, or perhaps of the brazos, or colorado, of adventure with an armadillo. texas. i have called it a considerable river. that is not quite correct; for although, where they all unite, they form a good-sized body of water, yet twenty miles farther down, for three-fourths of the year the channel is perfectly dry; and that is the case i know not how far beyond. the water, which passes from the mountain at all times, is either evaporated by the hot sun, or sinks into the sands of its own bed, during a run of twenty miles. it is only in times of great rain—a rare occurrence here — or when very hot weather melts an unusual quantity of the snow, that there is water enough to carry the stream over a flat sandy tract which stretches away to the east- ward. all these things i found out afterwards, and as you, my friends, know them to be common phe- nomena of the desert, i shall not now dwell upon them. "i saw that, where we were, there was but little chance of getting anything to eat. the sides of the mountain were rugged and grim, with here and there a stunted cedar hanging from the rocks. the small patches of grass and willows that lined the banks of the little rills—although cheering to the eye, when compared with the brown barrenness of the desert—offered but little prospect that we should ■ adventure with an armadillo. get any thing to eat there. if the desert stretched away to the south of the mountain, as we saw that it did to the north, east, and west, then we had only reached a temporary resting-place, and we might still perish, if not from thirst, from what was equally as bad—hunger. "this was uppermost in our thoughts at the time, —for we had not eaten a morsel during that day; so we turned our attention to the piece of dried meat. "' let us cook it, and make a soup,' said mary; 'that will be better for the children.' my poor wife! i saw that the extreme fatigue she had un- dergone had exhausted her strength, yet still she endeavoured to be cheerful. "' yes, papa, let us make soup; soup is very nice,' added frank, trying to cheer his mother by showing that he was not dismayed. "' very well,. then,' i replied. 'come, cudjo, shoulder your axe, and let us to the mountain for wood. yonder are some pine-trees near the foot,— they will make an excellent fire.' "so cudjo and i started for the wood, which was growing about three hundred yards distant, and close in to the rocks where the stream came down. "as we drew nearer to the trees, i saw that they h adventure with an armadillo. were not pine-trees, but very different indeed. both trunks and branches had long thorny spikes upon them like porcupine's quills, and the leaves were of a bright shining green, pinnate with small oval leaflets. but what was most singular was the long bean-shaped pods that hung down thickly from the branches. these were about an inch and a half in breadth, and some of them not less than twelve inches in length. they were of a reddish-brown, nearly a claret colour. except in the colour, they looked exactly like large bean-pods filled with beans. "i was not ignorant of what species of tree was before us. i had seen it before. i knew it was the honey-locust, or thorny acacia,—the carob-tree of the east, and the famed 'algarobo' of the spaniards. i was not ignorant of its uses neither,—for i knew this to be the tree upon which (as many suppose) st. john the baptist sustained himself in the desert, where it is said,' his meat was locusts and wild honey.' hence it is sometimes called, 'st. john's bread.' neither was cudjo ignorant of its uses. the moment his eyes rested upon the long brown legumes, he cried out, with gestures of delight:— "' massa,—massa roff, lookee yonder!—beans and honey for supper!' adventure with an armadillo. "we were soon under the branches; and while i proceeded to knock down and collect a quantity of the ripe fruit, cudjo went farther up among the rocks, to procure his firewood from the pines that grew there. "i soon filled my handkerchief, and was waiting for cudjo, when i heard him shout,— "' massa koff! come dis away, and see de var- mint— what him be.' "i immediately ran up among the rocks. on reaching the spot where cudjo was, i found him bending over a crevice or hole in the ground, from which protruded an object very much like the tail of a pig. "'what is it, cudjo ?' i asked. "' don't know, massa. varmint i never seed in vaginny — looks someting like de ole 'possum.' "' catch hold of the tail, and pull him out,' said i. "' lor! massa roff, i've tried ma best, but can't fotch 'im no how. look yar!' and so saying, my companion seized the tail, and pulled—seemingly with all his might — but to no purpose. "' did you see the animal when it was outside?' i inquired. adventure with an armadillo. "' yes, massa; see 'im and chase 'im 'till i tree him yar in dis cave.' "' what was it like?' "' berry like a pig — maybe more belike ole 'pos- sum, but cubberd all ober wi' shell like a vaginny turtle.' "' oh! then — it is an armadillo.' "' an amadiller! cudjo niver hear o' dat var- mint afore.' "i saw that the animal which had so astonished my companion was one of those curious living things — which nature, in giving variety to her creatures, has thought proper to form — and which are known throughout mexico and south america by the name of ' armadillos.' they are so called from the spanish word ' armado,' which signifies armed—because that all over their body there is a hard, shell-like covering divided into bands and regular figures, exactly like the coats-of-mail worn by the warriors of ancient times. there is even a helmet covering their heads, connected with the other parts of the armour by a joint, which renders this resemblance still more com- plete and singular. there are many species of these animals; some of them as large as a full-sized sheep, but the generality of them are much smaller. the adventure with an armadillo. curious figuring of the shell that covers them differs in the different species. in some the segments are squares, in others hexagons, and in others, again, they are of a pentagonal shape. in all of them, however, the figures have a mathematical form and precision, that is both strange and beautiful. they look as though they were artificial, — that is, carved by the hand of man. they are harmless creatures, and most of the species feed upon herbs and grass. they do not run very nimbly, though they can go much faster than one would suppose, considering the heavy armour which they carry. this, however, is not all in one shell, but in many pieces connected together by a tough, pliable skin. hence they can use their limbs with sufficient ease. they are not such slow travellers as the turtles and tortoises. when they are pursued and overtaken, they sometimes gather themselves into a round ball, as hedgehogs do; and if they should happen to be near the edge of a preci- pice they will roll themselves over to escape from their enemy. more often when pursued they betake themselves to their holes, or to any crevice among rocks that may be near; and this was evidently the case with that which cudjo had surprised. when they can hide their heads, like the ostrich, they adventure with an armadillo. fancy themselves safe; and so, no doubt, fancied this one, until he felt the sinewy fingers of cudjo grasp- ing him by the tail. it was evident the animal had run into a shallow crack where he could go no far- ther, else we would soon have lost sight of his tail; but it was equally evident, that pulling upon that appendage was not the method to get him out. i could see that he had pushed the scaly armour out- ward and upward, so that it held fast against the rocks on every side. moreover, his claws, which are remarkable both for length and tenacity, were clutched firmly against the bottom of the crevice. it would have taken a team of oxen to have pulled him out, as cudjo remarked with a grin. "i had heard of a plan used by the indians who hunt the armadillo, and who are very fond of his flesh; and as i was determined to try it, i told my com- panion to let go the tail, and stand to one side. "i now knelt down in front of the cave, and, taking a small branch of cedar, commenced tickling the hind-quarters of the animal with the sharp nee- dles. in a moment i saw that his muscles began to relax, and the shell to separate from the rocks, and close in toward his body. after continuing the ope- ration for some minutes, i observed that he had adventure with an armadillo. reduced himself to his natural size, and had no doubt forgotten to keep a look-out with his claws. seeing this, i seized the tail firmly; and, giving it a sudden jerk, swung the armadillo out between the feet of my companion. cudjo aimed a blow with the axe which nearly severed its head from its body, and killed the animal outright. it was about the size of a rabbit, and proved to be of the eight-banded species — reckoned more delicious eating than any other. "we now returned to camp with our fire-wood, our locust-beans, and our armadillo—the last of which objects horrified my wife, when i told her i was going to eat it. it proved a great curiosity to the boys, however, who amused themselves by running their fingers all over its mottled armour. but i had something that amused the little mary and luisa still more — the delicious, honey-like pulp from the pods of the locust-tree, which they greedily ate. the seeds we extracted from the pulp, intending to roast them as soon as we had kindled our fire. "and now, my friends," continued rolfe, rising to his feet, " since we have got to talking about this same locust-tree, i hope you will not refuse to try a mug of my home-brewed beer, which i made out of adventure with an armadillo. its beans this very day, while you. were wandering about my grounds and through the valley. it is, perhaps, not equal to barclay and perkins'; but i flatter myself that, under the circumstances, you will not find it unpalatable." saying this, our host brought forward a large fla- gon, and pouring into our cups a brown-coloured liquid, set them before us. we all drank of the "locust beer," which was not unlike mead or new cider, and to prove that we liked it, we drank again and again. as soon as this ceremony was over, rolfe went on with his narration. a very lean buffalo. chapter xi. a very lean buffalo. "we were all soon engaged in different occupations. mary was preparing the dried meat, which she in- tended to boil along with the locust beans in our tin pot. fortunately, it was a large one, and held nearly a gallon. cudjo was busy kindling the fire, which already sent up its volumes of blue smoke. frank, harry, and the little ones, were sucking away at the natural preserves of the acacia, while i was dressing my armadillo for the spit. in addition to this, our horse was filling out his sides upon the rich buffalo- grass that grew along the stream; and the dogs— poor fellows! they were like to fare worst of all— stood watching my operations, and snapped eagerly at every bit that fell from my knife. in a very short while the fire was blazing up, the beef and beans were bubbling over it in the tin pot, and a vert lean buffalo. the armadillo was sputtering on the spit beside them. in another short while all things were cooked and ready to be eaten. "we now remembered that we had neither plates, glasses, knives, forks, nor spoons—yes, cudjo and i had our hunting-knives; and, as it was no time to be nice, with these we fished the pieces of meat and some of the beans out of the soup-pot, and placed them upon a clean, flat stone. for the soup itself, we immersed the lower part of the pot into the cool water of the stream, so that in a short time mary and the children could apply the edge of it to their hps, and drink of it in turn. "as for cudjo and myself, we did not want any of the soup. we were altogether for the 'substan- tial' "i thought, at first, i should have all the arma- dillo to myself. even cudjo, who in ' ole vaginny' had bolted 'coons, 'possums, and various other ' var- mints,' for a long time hung back. seeing, however, that i was eating with evident relish, he held out his sable paw, and desired me to help him to a small piece. having once tasted it, the ice of his appetite seemed to be all at once broken, and he kept asking for more, and then for more, until i began to a very lean buffalo. fear he would not leave me enough for my own supper. "neither mary nor the boys, however, would con- sent to share with us, although i assured them, what was positively the fact, that what i was eating was equal in delicacy of flavour to the finest roast pig—a dish, by the way, to which the armadillo bears a very great resemblance. "the sun was now setting, and we began to think how we were to pass the night. we had left all our blankets in the wagon, and the air was fast becoming cold, which is always the case in the neighbourhood of snowy mountains. this is easily explained. the atmosphere getting cool upon the peak, where it envelopes the snow, of course becomes heavier, and keeps constantly descending around the base of the mountain, and pushing up and out that air which is warmer and lighter. in fact, there was a sensible breeze blowing down the sides of the mountain, caused by these natural laws, and it had already made us chilly, after the burning heat through which we had been travelling. should we sleep in this cold atmosphere—even though we kept up a fire during the whole night—i knew that we must suffer much. a very lean buffalo. "the thought now entered into my mind, that i might go back to the wagon—which was only five miles off—and bring up our blankets. should i go myself, or send cudjo, or should both of us go? all at once the idea entered my head that one of us might ride there, and bring back a load of other articles, as well as the blankets. our horse, who had been filling himself for the last hour and a half with good grass and water, now began to show symp- toms of life and vigour. animals of this kind soon recover from fatigue, when their food and drink are restored to them. i saw that he would be quite able to do the journey, so i gave cudjo directions to catch him. there happened to be a piece of rope around his neck, and this would serve for a bridle. i hesi- tated for some time, whether both cudjo and i should leave mary and the children; but my wife urged us to go, telling us she would have no fear, as long as harry and frank, with their rifles, remained with her. the dogs, too, would stay. indeed, there was not much danger of them leaving her, while she held in her arms the little luisa, whom both these animals seemed to watch over. "influenced by her advice, i consented to leave her alone with the children; and giving directions a very lean buffalo. that they should fire off one of the rifles, in case of any alarm, i set forth with cudjo and the horse. "we could see the white tilt of the wagon from the very start; and we had no difficulty in guiding ourselves to it. "as we passed onward, i was reflecting whether the wolves had not already made a meal of our poor ox that we had left by the wagon. if not, it was my intention to skin him, and save the meat, lean and tough as it must be—for the animal looked more like some dry skeleton to be preserved in a museum than anything else. still i saw before us no pros- pect of a better breakfast, and i began to grow very anxious as to whether we might find a bit of him left. at this moment, i was startled from my reflections by an exclamation from cudjo, who had stopped suddenly, and was pointing to some object directly ahead of us. i looked forward; and saw in the dim light something that very much resembled a large quadruped. "' p'raps, massa,' whispered cudjo, 'him be de buffier.' "' perhaps it is a buffalo ; but what is to be done? i have left my rifle. here! take the horse, and i a very lean buffalo. will endeavour to get near enough to kill it with my pistols.' "giving cudjo the horse, and cautioning him to be silent, i drew the largest of my pistols, and crept silently forward. i went upon my hands and knees, and very slowly, so as not to give the animal an alarm. as i got nearer, i felt sure it was a buffalo; but the moon had not yet risen, and i could see its form but very indistinctly. at length, i believed i had it within range of my pistol; at least, thought i, if i go any nearer it will make off; so i halted—still upon my knees—and made ready to fire. as i raised my weapon, the horse suddenly neighed; and, in answer to his neigh, the strange animal uttered a loud roar, which i knew to be nothing else than the bellowing of an ox! and so it proved, as it was neither more nor less than our own ox, who had left the wagon, and was slowly making his way for the mountain. the cool air had somewhat revived him, and instinct, or a knowledge of the way we had gone, was guiding him in that direction. "i know not whether i was more pleased or dis- appointed at meeting our old companion. a good fat buffalo would have been more welcome at the time than a famished ox; but when i reflected that a very lean buffalo. ill he might yet help us to get out of the desert, i felt that we were fortunate in finding him still alive. the horse and he put their noses together, evidently pleased at again meeting each other; and i could not help thinking, as the ox shook his long tail, that the horse must have told him of the nice grass and water that were so near him. the ox had his reins upon him, and lest he might stray from the track, we tied him to a sage-bush, so that we might take him with us when we came back. "we were about leaving him, when it occurred to me, that if the ox only had a little water, he might, along with the horse, enable us to bring the wagon up to the mountain. what a delightful surprise it would be to mary, to see us return with ox, wagon, and all;—not only the blankets, but also our cups, pans, and cooking-pots, besides some coffee, and other little luxuries, that were stored away in our great chest! ha! thought i, that would be delightful; and i immediately communi- cated the idea to cudjo. my companion fully agreed with me, and believed it quite possible and practicable. we had brought along with us the tin-pot, full of cool water from the stream; but it was a very lean buffalo. too narrow at the mouth, and the ox could not pos- sibly drink out of it. "' let us gib it, massa roff,' advised cudjo, 'in de ole hoss-bucket, once we gets 'im back to de wagon. ya ! ya! we gib missa an abstonishment.' and my light-hearted companion laughed with de- light, at the prospect of making his mistress happy on our return. "without farther parley, we unloosed the rein from the sage-bush, and led the ox back towards the wagon. neither of us rode the horse, as we knew he would have enough to do in dragging up his share of the load. "on reaching the wagon, we found everything as we had left it; but several large white wolves were prowling around, and, no doubt, it had been the sight of them that had roused the ox, and imparted to him the energy that had enabled him to get away from the spot. "we soon found the bucket; and, pouring the water into it, set it before the ox, who drank every drop of it, and then licked the sides and bottom of the vessel until they were quite dry. we now 'hitched to' both animals; and, without more a vert lean buffalo. a-do, drove off towards our little camp at the mountain. "we guided ourselves by the fire, which we could see burning brightly under the dark shadow of the cliffs. its blaze had a cheering effect on the spirits both of my companion and myself; and even the horse and ox seemed to understand that it would be the end of their journey, and pressed forward with alacrity to reach it. "when within about half a mile, i heard the report of a rifle ringing among the rocks. i was filled with alarm. were mary and the children attacked by indians ?—perhaps by some savage ani- mal ?—perhaps by the grizzly bear? "i did not hesitate a moment, but ran forward— leaving cudjo with the wagon. i drew my pistol, and held it in readiness as i advanced, all the while listening eagerly to catch every sound that might come from the direction of the fire. once or twice i stopped for short intervals to breathe and listen; but there were no noises from the camp! what could be the meaning of the silence? where were the dogs? i knew that, had they been attacked by a grizzly bear, or any other animal, i should have heard their barks and worrying. but there was not i a very lean buffalo. a sound. had they been killed all at once by indian arrows, so silent in their deadly effect'? god! had my wife, and children too, fallen vic- tims? "filled with painful apprehensions, i ran forward with increased energy, determined to rush into the midst of the enemy—whoever they might be—and sell my life as dearly as possible. "at length, i came within full view of the fire. what was my astonishment, as well as joy, on seeing my wife sitting by the blaze, with little luisa upon her knee, while mary was playing upon the ground at her feet! but where were harry and frank? it was quite incomprehensible. i knew that they would not have fired the rifle to alarm me unnecessarily, yet there sat mary as though no rifle had been fired! "' what was it, dear mary?' i cried, running up. 'where are the boys ?—they discharged the rifle, did they not?' "' they did,' she replied; 'harry fired at some- thing.' "' at what?—at what?' i inquired. "' at some animal, i know not what kind; but i think they must have wounded it, for they all ran harry kills a prong-horned antelope. p. . a vert lean buffalo. out, dogs and all, after the shot, and have not yet come back.' "' in,what direction?' i asked hurriedly. "mary pointed out the direction; and, without waiting further, i ran off into the darkness. when about an hundred yards from the fire, i came upon harry, frank, and the mastiffs, standing over some animal which i saw was quite dead. harry was not a little proud of the shot he had made, and ex- pected me to congratulate him, which of course i did; and laying hold of the animal by one of its hind legs —for it had no tail to lay hold of—i dragged it for- ward to the light of the fire. it appeared to be about the size of a sucking calf, though much more ele- gantly shaped, for its legs were long and slender, and its shanks not thicker than a common walking- cane. it was of a pale red colour, whitish along the breast and belly, but its large, languishing eyes and slender forking horns told me at once what sort of animal it was; it was the prong-horned antelope,— the only species of antelope found in north america. "mary now related the adventure. while they were sitting silently by the fire, and somewhat impa- tiently awaiting our return—for the wagon had de- layed us considerably—they saw a pair of large eyes a very lean buffalo. glancing in the darkness like two candles, and not many yards from where they sat. they could see nothing but the eyes; but this of itself was sufficient to alarm them, as they fancied it might be a wolf, or, perhaps still worse, a hear or panther. they did not lose presence of mind, however; and they knew that to escape by running away would be impossible; so both frank and harry took hold of their rifles— though harry was foremost with his. he then aimed, as well as he could, between the two glancing eyes, and pulled trigger. of course the smoke blinded them, and in the darkness they could not tell whether the bullet had hit the animal or not; but the dogs—who up to this time had been sleeping by the fire—sprang to their feet, and ran out in pursuit. they could hear them running for some distance, and then they heard a scramble and a struggle, and then they were silent; so they concluded—what afterwards proved to be the case—that harry had wounded the animal, and that the dogs had caught, and were worrying it. and so they were, for as the boys got to the spot they had just killed it; and—hungry as they were—would soon have made a meal of it had frank and harry not got up in good time to take care of that. the antelope had been a very lean buffalo. shot in the shoulder, and had only run for a short distance before it fell. "although harry did not boast of his prowess, i saw that he had a triumphant look,—the more so as this fine piece of venison would ensure us all against hunger for three days at the least; and, considering that only an hour before we did not know where the next meal was to come from, it was certainly no small matter to be proud of. i thought just then of the surprise i had prepared for them, not only in bring- ing up the wagon which contained all our utensils and comforts, but in the recovery of our best ox. "'where is cudjo?' asked my wife. 'is he bringing the blankets?' "'yes,' said i, knowingly, 'and a good load besides.' "at that moment was heard the creaking of wheels, and the great tilt of white canvass was seen, far out, reflecting back the blaze of the fire. frank leaped to his feet, and, clapping his hands with delight, cried out,— "' mamma! mamma! it is the wagon!' "then was heard the loud voice of cudjo in a joyous 'wo-ha!' and the moment after, the horse and ox stepped up to the fire as lightly as if the pull a vert lean buffalo. had been a mere bagatelle; and they could have stood it an hundred miles farther without flinching. we were not slow in relieving both of them from their traces, and giving them a full swing at the grass and water. "as it was now late in the night, and we were all very tired, from the fatigues we had undergone, we determined to lose no time in going to rest. mary went to prepare a bed in the wagon,—for this was our only tent, and a very excellent tent it was, too. at the same time, cudjo and i set about skinning the antelope, so that we might have it in fine order for our breakfast in the morning. the dogs, too, were interested in this operation,—for they, poor brutes, up to this time, had fared worse than any of us. however, the head, feet, and intestines, fell to their share; and they soon had a supper to their hearts' content. having finished skinning the antelope, we tied a rope to its legs, and slung it up to the branch of a tree, high enough to be out of the reach of wolves, as well as our own dogs, during the night. "mary had by this time completed the arrange- ments for our sleeping; and but one thing more remained to be done before retiring to rest. that was a duty which we never neglected when circum- a very lean buffalo. stances admitted of its being performed. mary knew this, and had brought out of the wagon the only book which it contained—the bible. cudjo turned up the pine-logs upon the fire; and seating ourselves around the blaze, i read from the sacred book those passages which were most appropriate to our own situation,—how god had preserved moses and the children of israel in the desert wilderness. "then, with clasped hands and grateful hearts, we all knelt, and offered thanks for our own almost miraculous deliverance. the bighorns. chapter xii. the bighorns. "next morning we were up by the earliest break of day, and had the pleasure of witnessing a beautiful phenomenon in the sunrise. the whole country to the east, as far as we could see, was a level plain; and the horizon, of course, resembled that of the ocean when calm. as the great yellow globe of the sun appeared above it, one could have fancied that he was rising out of the earth itself, although he was more than ninety millions of miles distant from any part of it. it was a beautiful sky into which the sun was slowly climbing up. it was of a pale, blue colour, and without the smallest cloud, for on these high table-plains in the interior of america, you may often travel for days without seeing a cloud as big as a kite. we were all in better spirits, for we had rested well, and had no longer any fear of being the bighorns. ] followed by the savages who had massacred our com- panions. they would have been fools, indeed, to have made that dreadful journey for all they could have gotten from us. moreover, the sight of our antelope, with its nice yellow fat, crisped by the cold night-air, was anything but disheartening. as cudjo was a dexterous butcher, i allowed him to quarter it, while i shouldered the axe and marched off to the moun- tain foot to procure more wood for the fire. mary was busy among her pots, pans, and platters, scour- ing and washing them all in the clear stream, for the dust of the barren plains had blown into the wagon as we marched, and had formed a thick coating over the vessels. fortunately we had a good stock of these utensils—consisting of a gridiron, a large camp-kettle, a couple of mess-pans, a baking-dish, a first-rate coffee-pot and mill, half-a-dozen tin-cups and plates, with an assortment of knives, forks, and spoons. all these things we had laid in at st. louis, by the advice of our scotch friend, who knew very well what articles were required for a journey across the desert. "i was not long in getting the wood, and our fire was soon replenished and blazing brightly. mary attended to the coffee, which she parched in one of the bighorns. several large stones around the chest, and upon these we sat drinking the delicious coffee, and eating the savoury steaks of venison. "while we were thus pleasantly engaged, i ob- served cudjo suddenly rolling the whites of his eyes upwards, at the same time exclaiming,— "' golly! missa—massa—lookee yonder!' "the rest of us turned quickly round—for we had been sitting with our backs to the mountain—and looked in the direction indicated by cudjo. there were high cliffs fronting us, and along the face of these, five large reddish objects were moving, so fast, that i at first thought they were birds upon the wing. after watching them a moment, however, i saw that they were quadrupeds; but so nimbly did they go, leaping from ledge to ledge, that it was im- possible to see their limbs. they appeared to be animals of the deer species—somewhat larger than sheep or goats—but we could see that, in place of antlers, each of them had a pair of huge curving horns. as they leaped downward, from one platform of the cliffs to another, we fancied that they whirled about in the air, as though they were 'turning somer- saults,' and seemed at times to come down heads foremost! the bighorns. "there was a spur of the cliff that sloped down to within less than a hundred yards of the place where we sat. it ended in an abrupt precipice of some sixty or seventy feet in height above the plain. the animals, on reaching the level of this spur, ran along it until they had arrived at its end. seeing the precipice they suddenly stopped, as if to recon- noitre it; and we had now a full view of them, as they stood outlined against the sky, with their graceful limbs and great curved horns almost as large as their bodies. we thought, of course, they could get no farther for the precipice, and i was calculating whether my rifle—which i had laid hold of—would reach them at that distance. all at once, to our astonishment, the foremost sprang out from the cliff; and whirling through the air, lit upon his head on the hard plain below! we could see that he came down upon his horns, and rebounding up again to the height of several feet, he turned a second somer- sault, and then dropped upon his legs, and stood still! nothing daunted the rest followed, one after the other in quick succession, like so many street- tumblers, and like them — after the feat had been performed — the animals stood for a moment, as if waiting for applause! the bighorns. "the spot where they had dropped was not more than fifty paces from our camp; but i was so asto- nished at the tremendous leap, that i quite forgot the rifle i held in my hands. the animals, too, seemed equally astonished upon discovering us — which they did now for the first time. the yelping of the dogs, who rushed forward at the moment, brought me to myself again, as it did the strangers to a sense of their dangerous proximity; and, wheeling suddenly, they bounded back for the mountain. i fired after them at random; but we all supposed without effect, as the whole five kept on to the foot of the mountain, followed by the dogs. presently they commenced ascending, as though they had wings; but we noticed that one of them hung in the rear, and seemed to leap upward with difficulty. upon this one our eyes became fixed, as we now fancied it was wounded. we were right in this. the rest soon disappeared out of sight; but that which lagged behind, on leaping for a high ledge, came short in the attempt, and rolled backward down the face of the mountain. the next moment we saw him struggling between the mastiffs. "cudjo, frank, and harry, ran together up the steep, and soon returned, bringing the animal along the bighorns. not much, thought we; for although there might be a few more antelopes and a few more 'bighorns' about the place, there could not be many with so little appearance of anything for them to feed on. moreover, we might not find it so easy to kill any more of them,—for those we had already shot seemed to have fallen in our way by chance, or—as we more properly believed at the time and still believe—by the guiding of a providential hand. but we knew it was not right or wise to rely altogether on this,—that is, we knew it was our duty, while trusting in its guid- ance, at the same time to make every effort which lay in our own power to save ourselves. when our pre- sent supply should be exhausted, where was the next to come from? we could not always live upon arma- dilloes, and argalis, and antelopes,— even supposing they were as plenty as the rocks. but the chances were ten to one we should get no more of them. our ox in a week would have improved in condition. he would sustain us for a time; and then—our horse— and then—and then—the dogs—and then—we should starve to a certainty. "any of these necessities was sufficiently fearful to contemplate. should we kill our ox, we would be un- able to take the wagon along, and how could the horse the bighorns. carry us all out of the desert? if we then killed the horse, we should be still worse off, and utterly help- less on foot. no man can cross the great desert on foot—not even the hunters—and how could we do it? to remain where we were would be impossible. there were a few patches of vegetation on the dif- ferent runlets that filtered away from the mountain foot. there were clumps of willows growing along these, but not enough of grass to support any stock of game upon which we could live, even were we certain of being able to capture it. it was evident, then, to us all, that we should have to get away from that place as speedily as possible. "the next point to be determined was, whether the desert extended away to the south, as we already knew that it did to the north. to ascertain this, i resolved to go around the mountain, leaving the rest at the camp until my return. "our horse was now rested, and well fed; and having saddled him and shouldered my rifle, i mounted and rode off. i kept around the mountain foot, going by the eastern end. i crossed several rivulets resembling the one on which we had en- camped, and noticed that all these turned off toward the eastward, making their way to a main stream. in the bighorns. this direction, too, i saw a few stunted trees, with here and there an appearance of greenness on the surface. on the way i saw an antelope, and another animal resembling a deer, but differing from all the deer i had ever seen, in having a long toil like a cow. i knew not at the time what sort of an animal it was, as i had never met with any description of it in books of natural history. "after riding about five miles, i had fairly got round to the east side of the mountain, and could view the country away to the south. as far as my sight could reach, i saw nothing but an opon plain— if possible more sterile in its character than that which stretched northward. the only direction in which there were any signs of fertility was to the east, and that was but in patches of scanty vegetation. "it was a cheerless prospect. we should now certainly have a desert to cross before we could get to any inhabited country. to strike eastwardly again, for the american frontier—circumstanced as we were without provisions and with worn-out cattle— would be madness; as the distance was at least eight hundred miles. besides, i knew there were many hostile tribes of indians living on that route, so that , even should the country prove fertile, we could never the bighorn . hope to get through it. to go northward or south- ward would he equally impossible, as there was no civilized settlement for a thousand miles in either direction. our only hope, then, would be, to attempt crossing the desert westwardly to the mexican set- tlements on the del norte,— a distance of nearly two hundred miles! to do this, we should need first to rest our ill-matched team for several days. we should also require provisions enough for the route, and how were these to be obtained? again, thought i, we must trust to providence, who has already so manifestly extended a helping hand to us. "i observed that the mountain on the southern face descended with an easier slope toward the plain than upon the north, where it is bold and precipitous. from this i concluded that a greater quantity of snow must be melted, and run off in that direction. doubtless then, thought i, there will be a greater amount of fertility on that side, and i continued to ride on, until i came in sight of the grove of willows and cotton-trees, which line the stream above the valley here. i soon reached them, and saw that there was a stream with considerable pasturage near its borders—much more than where we had en- camped. i tied my horse to a tree, and climbed the bighorns. some distance up the mountain in order to get a view of the country south and west. i had not got to a great height when i caught sight of the sin- gular chasm that seemed to open up in the plain. i was attracted with this peculiarity, and determined to examine it. descending again to where i had left my horse, i mounted, and rode straight for it. in a short time i stood upon the brink of the preci- pice, and looked down into this smiling valley. "i cannot describe my sensations at that moment. only they, whose eyes have been bent for days on the sterile wilderness, can feel the full effect produced by a scene of fertility such as there presented itself. it was late in the autumn, and the woods that lay below me—clad in all the variegated livery of that season—looked like some richly-coloured picture. the music of birds ascended from the groves below, wafted upward upon the perfumed and aromatic air; and the whole scene appeared more like a fabled elysium than a reality of nature. i could hardly satisfy myself that i was not dreaming, or looking upon some fantastic hallucination of the mirage. "i stood for many minutes in a sort of trance, gazing down into the lovely valley. i could observe no signs of human habitation. no smoke rose over the the bighorns. trees, and no noises issued forth, except the voices of nature, uttered in the songs of birds and the hum of falling waters. it seemed as though man had never desecrated this isolated paradise by his presence and passions. "i say i stood for many minutes gazing and list- ening. i could have remained for hours; but the sinking sun admonished me to hasten away. i was nearly twenty miles from our camp, and my horse was neither strong nor fresh. determined, therefore, to return on the morrow, bringing with me my com- panions and all that belonged to us, i turned my horse's head and rode back. it was late in the night —near midnight—when i reached camp. i found everything as i had left it, except that mary was in great anxiety about what had delayed me so long. but my return, and the discovery which i communi- cated, soon restored her spirits; and we laid out our plans for changing our camp to the valley, deter- mined to set forth at an early hour in the morning. the great elk. chapter xiii. the great elk. "we were stirring by sunrise next morning, and having breakfasted heartily, we packed our wagon and started away from our camp, which we had named 'camp antelope.' the stream we called 'bighorn creek' ever afterwards. we arrived at the upper end of the valley about an hour be- fore sunset. here we passed the night. next day i started out to find some path by which we might get down into the bottom. i rode for miles along the edge of the bluff, but to my surprise i found that on both sides ran a steep precipice, and i began to fear that the tempting paradise was inac- cessible, and had only been created to tantalize us. at length i reached the lower end, where, as you have noticed, the precipice is much less elevated— on account of the sloping of the upper plain. here i came upon a path winding gradually down, upon which i saw the foot-marks of animals of various kinds. this was exactly what i wanted. the great elk, "in this valley we could remain until our cattle were sufficiently recruited to face the desert, while with our rifles we should be able to procure a sufficient stock of provisions for the journey, "i started back for the wagon; but as i had con- sumed most of the day in my explorations, it was late when i reached it; and we remained another night at our camp on the stream, which we named the ' willow camp.' "next morning, we started early. on arriving at the point where the path led down, we halted the wagon. mary and the children remained with it, while cudjo and i descended into the valley to reconnoitre. the woods were quite thick, the trees apparently all bound together by huge vines, that stretched from one to the other like immense ser- pents. there was a thick undergrowth of cane; but we saw that a trail had been made through this by the passage of numerous animals. there were no human foot-marks to be seen, nor any signs that a human being had ever been upon the spot. "we followed the trail that led us directly to the banks of the stream. it was then very shallow, and a great part of its shingly bed was dry. i saw that this would afford a good road for our wagon, and we the great elk. kept on up the channel. about three miles from the lower end of the valley, we came to a place where the wooda were more open, and less choked up with underwood. on the right bank of the stream there was a rising ground, forming a clear space of large extent, with only a tree growing here and there. this ground sloped gently down to the stream, and was covered with beautiful herbage—both grass and flowers. it was a lovely spot; and as we came sud- denly out upon it, several animals, frightened by our approach, bounded off into the thickets beyond. we stopped for a moment to gaze upon the bright picture. birds of brilliant wing were fluttering among the many-coloured leaves, singing or scream- ing, and chasing each other from tree to tree. there were parrots, and paroquets, and orioles, and blue jays, and beautiful loxias, both of the scarlet and azure-coloured species. there were butterflies, too, with broad wings mottled all over with the most vivid tints, flapping about from flower to flower. many of these were as large as some of the birds, and far larger than others, for we saw flocks of tiny humming-birds, not bigger than bees, shooting about like sparkling gems, and balancing themselves over the cups of the open flowers. the gbeat elk. "it was a beautiful scene, indeed; and cudjo and i at once agreed that that was the very place to pitch our camp. at the time, we meant it only for a camp—a spot where we might remain until our animals had recruited their strength, and we had collected from the forests around provision enough for the desert journey. a temporary camp, indeed! that, gentlemen, is ten years ago, and here we are upon the same spot at this moment! yes, my friends, this house stands in the middle of that very glade i have been describing. you will be surprised, when i tell you, there was no lake then, nor the appearance of one. that came afterwards, as you shall hear. "what the lake now is was then part of the glade; and its surface, like the rest, was covered with beauti- ful vegetation, with, here and there, trees standing alone, and in small clumps, which gave it a most park- like appearance. in fact, we could not help fancying, that there was some splendid mansion in the back- ground, to which it belonged—although we saw that the thick, dark woods surrounded it on all sides. "we did not remain longer than was necessary to examine the ground. we knew that mary would be anxiously looking for us, so we hastened back to our the great elk. wagon. in less than three hours from that time, the wagon, with its snow-white tilt, stood in the centre of the glade, and the ox and horse, loosed from their labour, were eagerly browsing over the rich pasture. the children were playing on the green sward, under the shadow of a spreading magnolia, while mary, cudjo, the boys, and myself, were engaged in various occupations about the ground. the birds flew around us, chattering and screaming, to the great delight of our little ones. they came quite close to our encampment, perching upon the nearest trees, and wondering, no doubt, what strange crea- tures we were, who had thus intruded upon their hitherto untenanted domain. i was glad to see them thus curious about us, as i argued from this that the sight of man was new to them, and, therefore, we should be in no danger of meeting with any of our own kind in the valley. it is strange, that, of all others, man was the animal we most dreaded to meet! yet, such was the case; for we knew that any human beings we might fall in with in such a place would be indians, and, in all probability, would prove our most cruel enemies. "it was still early in the afternoon, and we deter- mined to do nothing for the remainder of that day the great elk. but rest ourselves, as we had all experienced consi- derable fatigue in getting our wagon up the stream. kocks had to be removed, and occasionally a way hewed through the thick branches. but the diffi- culty being now over, we felt as though we had reached a home, and we set about enjoying it. cudjo built a fire, and erected a crane over it, upon which to hang our pots and kettles. the crane con- sisted of two forked sticks driven in to the ground, one on each side of the fire, with a long pole placed horizontally, and resting upon the forks. this is the usual manner of making the crane among backwoods' travellers, who cook their meals in the open air. the tripod crane, used by gipsies in europe, is rarely to be seen among the wanderers of the american wilderness. "in a short time, our camp-kettle, filled with pure water, was boiling and bubbling to receive the aro- matic coffee; and the remainder of the antelope, suspended over the fire, was roasting and sputtering in the blaze. mary had set out the great chest, covered with a clean white cloth—for she had washed it the day before; and upon this our tin plates and cups—scoured until they were shining like silver— were regularly arranged. when all these little pre- the great elk. parations had been made, we seated ourselves around the fire, and watched the dainty venison as it became browned and crisped in the blaze. cudjo had sus- pended the joint by a piece of strong cord, so that, by simply whirling it around, it would then continue for some time turning itself, as well as if it had been upon a patent jack-spit. we were congratulating ourselves on the fine supper we were likely soon to partake of, when, all at once, our attention was directed to a noise that came out of the woods, near the border of the open ground. there was a rustling of leaves, with a cracking sound as of dead sticks, broken by the hoofs of some heavy animal. all our eyes were immediately turned in that direction. presently we saw the leaves in motion, and the next moment three large animals stepped out into the glade, apparently with the intention of crossing it. "at first sight we thought they were deer, for each of them carried a pair of branching antlers, but their great size at once distinguished them from any of the deer species we had ever seen. any one of them was as large as a flemish horse, and their huge antlers rising several feet above their heads, gave them the appearance of being still much larger. on seeing the branched and towering horns, we took the great elk. them for deer,—and in fact they were so; but far dif- fering from either the red or fallow deer that are to he met with in parks and forests. they were elk— the great elk of the rocky mountains. "on coming out of the timber, they marched for- ward, one after the other, with a proud step, that showed the confidence they placed in their great size and strength—as well as in the pointed weapons which they carried upon their heads, and which they can use upon an enemy with terrible effect. their appearance was extremely majestic; and we all ad- mired them in silence as they approached, for they came directly towards our camp. "at length they caught sight of our wagon and fire, —neither of which objects, up to this time, they had seen. all at once they halted, tossed up their heads, snorted, and then continued for some mo- ments to gaze at us with an expression of wonder. "' they will be off now,' i muttered in an under- tone to my wife and cudjo. 'no doubt they will be off in a moment, and they are entirely out of reach of my rifle.' "i had caught hold of the gun on first seeing them, and held it in readiness across my knees. harry and frank had also seized their small pieces. the great elk. ill "' what pity, massa koff,' said cudjo, 'de big rifle no reach 'em! golly! de be ebery one fat as vaginny 'possum!' "i was thinking whether i might not creep a little closer to them, when, to our surprise, the animals, instead of starting off into the woods again, came several paces nearer, and again halted, tossing up their heads with a snort similar to that which they had uttered before. i say that this astonished all of us, for we had heard that the elk was an exceedingly shy animal. so, too, they are, of any danger to which they are accustomed; but, like most of the deer and antelope tribe, their curiosity is greater than their fear, and they will approach any object which may be new to them, and examine it minutely, before running off. i saw that curiosity had brought them so much closer to us; and, thinking they might advance still nearer, i cautioned my compa- nions to remain silent, and without making any stir. "the wagon, with its great white tilt, appeared to be the main attraction to our strange visitors; and, after eyeing it a moment with looks of wonder, they again moved several paces forward, and stopped as before. a third time they advanced towards it, and again made halt the great elk. "as the wagon was at some distance from where we were sitting by the fire, their movements towards it brought their great sides somewhat into our view. their last advance, moreover, had brought the leader within range of my rifle. he was much the largest of the three, and i determined to wait no longer, but let him have it; so, levelling my piece at the place which i supposed lay nearest to his heart, i pulled trigger. "' missed him!' thought i, as the three great animals wheeled in their tracks, and went away like lightning. what was strange to us, they did not gallop, as most deer do, but went off in a sort of shambling trot, like a ' pacing' horse, and quite as fast as a horse could gallop. "the dogs — which, up to this time, cudjo had been holding by their necks — dashed after with yelps and barking. they were all — both elk and dogs — soon lost to our eyes; but for some time we could hear the elk breaking through the thick cane and bushes, with the dogs yelling in close pursuit. "i thought there would be no chance of the mas- tiffs coming up with them, and was, therefore, not intending to follow; when, all at once, i heard the voices of the dogs change from yelping to that of a the great elk. worrying sound, as though they were engaged in a fierce conflict with one another. "' perhaps i have wounded the animal, and they have overtaken it,' said i. 'come, cudjo! let us after and see. boys, remain to take care of your mother.' "i laid hold of harry's rifle, and followed by cudjo, ran across the glade in the track which both elk and dogs had taken. as we entered the bushes, i saw that their leaves were sprinkled with blood. "' no doubt,' said i, 'he is wounded, and badly, too. we shall have him yet.' "' dat we shall, massa!' cried cudjo; and we ran on as fast as we could through the thick cane-brake, in the track made by the animals. i ran ahead of my companion, as cudjo was rather slow of foot. every here and there i saw gouts of blood on the leaves and cane, and guided by the hoarse voices of the mastiffs, i soon reached the spot where they were. sure enough the wounded elk was there, down upon his knees, and defending himself with his antlers; while one of the dogs lay sprawling on the ground and howling with pain. the other still kept up the fight, endeavouring to seize the elk from behind; but the latter spun round, as though his the great elk. knees were upon a pivot, and always presented his horny spikes in the direction of the attack. "i was afraid the elk might get a blow at one of our brave dogs, and put an end to him, so i fired hastily; and, regardless of consequences, ran forward to finish him with the butt of the rifle. i struck with all my might, aiming directly for his head, but in my hurry i missed him; and, carried forward with the force which i had thrown into the blow, i fell right into the midst of his branching antlers! i dropped my rifle, and seized hold of the points, with the inten- tion of extricating myself; but before i could do so, the elk had risen to his feet, and with a powerful jerk of his head tossed me high into the air. i came down upon a thick network of vines and branches; and, my presence of mind still remaining, i clutched them as i fell, and held on. it was well that i did so, for directly under me the infuriated animal was bounding from point to point, evidently in search of me and wondering where i had gone. had i fallen back to the earth, instead of clinging to the branches, he would no doubt have crushed me to pieces with his fearful horns. "for some moments i lay quite helpless where i had been flung, watching what was passing below. th hew y■j*fc public library tlio wounded elk at bay. the great elk. the mastiff still continued his attack, but was evi- dently cowed by the fate of his companion, and only snapped at the elk when he could get round to his flanks. the other dog lay among the weeds howl- ing piteously. "at this moment cudjo appeared in sight, for i had headed him some distance in my haste. i could see the whites of his great eyes turned up in wonder- ment when he perceived the rifle lying upon the ground without seeing me. i had barely time to utter a shout of warning, when the elk spied him; and lowering his head, rushed upon him with a loud and furious snort. "i was filled with fear for my faithful follower and friend. i saw that he carried a large indian spear —which he had found at the camp where our com- panions had been massacred —but i had no hope of his being able to ward off the impetuous attack. i saw that he did not even point the weapon to receive the enraged animal, but stood like a statue. 'he is paralyzed with terror,'thought i; and i expected the next moment to see him impaled upon the sharp antlers and gored to death. but i had very much mistaken my man cudjo. when the horns were within two feet of his breast, he stepped nimbly l the great elk. behind a tree, and the elk passed hirn with a rush. so quick had been the action, that for a moment i thought he had gone under, but, to my agreeable surprise, the next moment i saw him start out from the tree, and, making a lounge with the spear, bury it among the ribs of the animal! no matador in all spain could have performed the feat more cleverly. "i shouted with delight as i saw the huge body rolling to the earth; and, dropping down from my perch, i ran toward the spot. on reaching it, i found the elk panting in the throes of death, while cudjo tood over his body safe and triumphant. "' bravo!' cried i, 'my brave cudjo, you have ended him in earnest!' "'yes, massa,' replied cudjo, coolly, though evi- dently with some slight symptoms of triumph in his manner; 'yes, massa roff, dis black niggur hab gin de gemman a settler under de rib number five. he butt de breath out of poor cassy no more—poor ole cassy!' and cudjo commenced caressing the dog castor, which was the one that had suffered most from the horns of the elk. "we were now joined by harry, who, hearing the struggle, could remain no longer in the camp. for- tunately we found his rifle quite safe; and cudjo the great elk. drawing his knife, let the blood out of the animal in a scientific manner. from its great weight—not less than a thousand pounds—we saw that we could not take the whole carcass to camp without yoking either the horse or ox to it, so we resolved to skin and quarter it where it lay. after going hack for the necessary implements, as well as to announce our success, we returned again, and soon finished the operation. before the sun had set, nearly a thousand pounds of fresh elk-meat were dangling from the trees around our little encampment. we had purposely delayed eating until our work should be done; and while cudjo and i were engaged in hanging up the huge quarters, mary had been busy with the gridiron, and an elk rump-steak — quite equal to the best beef—added to the excellence of qut supper. adventure with the carcajou. chapter xiv. adventure with the carcajou. "we arose early next morning, and having eaten a hearty breakfast of elk-steaks and coffee, began to consider what was the next thing to be done. we had now quite enough of meat to carry us to the end of the longest journey, and it only remained to be cured, so that it would keep on the way. but how were we to cure it, when we had not a particle of salt? here was a difficulty which for a moment looked us in the face. only for a moment, for i soon recollected that there was a way of preserving meat without salt, which has always been much in use among spanish people, and in countries where salt is very scarce and dear. i had heard, too, that this method was much practised among the trappers and hunters when laying up a stock of buffalo flesh, or of any other animals they might chance to kill. adventure with the carcajou. it is called 'jerking,' and the meat when thus pre- pared goes by the name of 'jerked meat.' by the spaniards it is called ' tasajo.' "i remembered having read an account of the pro- cess; and, after instructing cudjo in it, we imme- diately set about 'jerking' the elk. we first built a large fire, upon which we placed a great many sticks of green wood fresh cut from the tree. this was done so that the firo might burn slowly, and throw out a great volume of smoke. we then stuck several stakes into the ground around the fire, and stretched lines from one to the other. this being done, we took down the quarters of the elk and re- moved the meat from the bones— cutting it off in thin strips, each of them over a yard in length. these strips we hung over the lines already prepared, so that they might be exposed to the smoke and heat of the fire, although not so much as to cause them to be broiled. the whole process was now ended— excepting that it would be necessary for us to look occasionally to the fire, as well as to see that the dogs and wolves did not leap up and snap off the meat, that hung down from the lines like so many strings of sausages. in about three days the flesh of the elk would be 'jerked,' and capable of being adventure with the carcajou. carried to any distance without the danger of spoiling. "during these three days we all remained very much in the neighbourhood of our camp. we might have procured more game had we gone out to hunt for it, but we did not do this for three reasons :— first, because we had enough for our wants; secondly, we did not wish, under the circumstances, to waste a single charge of ammunition; and, lastly, because we had seen the tracks of bears and pan- thers by the stream. we did not wish to risk meeting with any of these customers in the dark and tangled woods, which we should have been likely enough to do, had we gone far out in pursuit of game. we were determined to leave them unmolested as long as they should preserve a similar line of conduct towards us; and, in order to prevent any of them from intruding into our camp while we were asleep, we kept a circle of fires burning around the wagon throughout the night. "during these three days, however, we were not without fresh viands, and those, too, of the most luxurious and delicate kinds. i had succeeded in killing a wild turkey, which, along with several others, had entered the glade, and run close up to adventure with the carcajou. our camp before they saw us. he was a large 'gob bier '—over twenty pounds in weight—and, i need not tell you, proved far more delicious eating than his tame cousins of the farm-yard. "at the end of the third day, the elk-meat was as dry as a chip; and taking it from the lines we packed it in small bundles, and placed it in our wagon. we now thought of waiting only until our animals should be fairly recruited; and as both horse and ox were up to their eyes, from morning till night, in rich pasturage, and began to fill out about the flanks, we were congratulating ourselves that we should not have to wait long. "of how little value are human calculations! just at that moment, when we were so sanguine of being able soon to escape from our desert prison, an event occurred, which rendered that escape altogether impossible—for years at least, and it might be, for ever. but i will detail the circumstance as it happened. "it was on the afternoon of the fourth day after we had entered the valley. we had just finished dinner, and were sitting near the fire watching the two child- ren, mary and luisa, as they rolled in joyous inno- cence over the smooth green sward. my wife and i adventure with the carcajou. were conversing about the little luisa—about the unfortunate end of her father and mother—both of whom, we believed, had fallen victims in the savage massacre. we were talking of how we should bring her up—whether in ignorance of the melancholy fate of her parents, and in the belief that she was one of our own children—or whether, when she had grown to a sufficient age to understand it, we should reveal to her all the story of her orphanage. our thoughts now reverted, for the first time, to our own wtetched prospects, for these, too, had been blighted by the loss of our scotch friend. we were going to a strange land—a land where we knew no one—of whose language, even, we were ignorant—a land, too, whose inhabitants were neither prosperous of them- selves, nor disposed to countenance prosperity in others;—much less of the race to which we belonged. we were going, too, without an object; for that which had brought us so far was now removed by the death of our friend. we had no property—no money—not enough even to get us shelter for a single night: what would become of us? they were bitter reflections which we drew from thinking on the future; but we did not permit them to torture us long. adventure with the carcajou. "' fear not, robert,' said my noble wife, placing her little hand in mine, and looking cheerfully in my face; 'he who has guarded us through the past is not likely to fail us in the future.' "' dear mary,' i replied, roused to new life and energy by her consoling words, 'you are right—you are" right—in him only let us trust.' "at that moment a strange noise sounded in our ears, coming from the direction of the forest. it seemed distant at first, but every moment drew nearer and nearer. it was like the voice of some ani- mal 'routing' from extreme terror or pain. i looked around for the ox. the horse was in the glade, but his companion was not to be seen. again the voice came from the woods, louder and more fearful than ever. it was plainly the bellowing of an ox; but what could it mean? once more it rose upon the air, nearer and more distinct, and sounded as though the animal was running as it cried! "i sprang to my rifle—frank and harry also seized theirs—cudjo armed himself with the indian spear; and the dogs, that had started to their feet, stood waiting a signal to rush forth. "once more broke out that terrible cry; and we could now hear the sweeping of leaves, and the thi hew yorc public library gmmw rouhbat i« k | adventure with the carcajou. the throat of the ox, which we could see was torn, and dappled with crimson spots. the mouth of the strange animal was resting upon his jugular vein. it was tearing his flesh, and drinking his blood as he ran! "the ox, as he came out of the thicket, gallopped but slowly, and routed with less energy than before. we could perceive that he tottered as he ran, still making for the camp. in a short time, he was in our midst, when, uttering a long moan, he fell to the earth with the death-rattle in his throat! "the strange animal, roused by the shock, suddenly let go its hold, and raised itself erect over the car- cass. now, for the first time, i saw what it was. it was the fearful carcajou! now, too, for the first time, it seemed to be aware of our presence, and suddenly placed itself in an attitude to spring. the next moment it had launched its body towards mary and the children! "we all three fired as it sprang forward, but our feelings had unnerved us, and the bullets whistled idly away. i drew my knife and rushed after; but cudjo was before me, and i saw the blade of his spear glancing towards it like a flash of light, and burying itself in the long hair. with a hoarse adventure with the carcajou. growl, the monster turned, and, to my joy, i saw that it was impaled upon the spear, which had passed through the skin of its neck. instead of yielding, however, it rushed up the shaft, until cudjo was com- pelled to drop the weapon, to save himself from being torn by its long, fierce claws. before it could clear itself from the spear, i had drawn my large pistol, and fired directly into its breast. the shot proved mortal, and the shaggy monster rolled over, and struggled for some minutes in the agonies of death. we were saved; but our poor ox, that was to have drawn us out of the desert, lay upon the grass a lifeless and almost bloodless carcass! a fruitless search for a trail. chapter xv. a fruitless search for a trail. "odr hopes of being able to get away from the oasis valley were thus crushed in a moment. the horse could not of himself draw the wagon, and how could we travel without it? even could we have crossed the desert on foot, he would hardly suffice to carry our food and water. but for us to pass one of those terrible stretches of wilderness—by the spaniards called 'jornadas'—on foot was out of the question. even the strongest and hardiest of the trappers often perish in such attempts; and how should we suc- ceed—one of us being a delicate female—and having two children that must be carried in our arms? the thing was plainly impossible, and as i reflected upon it, the thoughts of its impossibility filled me with despair. "but were we never to escape from that lonely a fruitless search for a trail. spot? what prospect was before us of ever being able to leave it? no human beings might come to our relief. perhaps no human foot except our own had ever made its track in that remote valley! this was not at all improbable; and indeed a party of hunters or indians, on their journey across the desert, might visit the mountain without discovering the valley,— so strangely was it hollowed out of the plain. "i had but little hope that any caravan or party of traders would pass that way. the desert that surrounded us was a sufficient barrier against that; besides, i knew that the mountain was far to the southward of the trails usually followed by the prairie traders. there was but one hope that i could cling to with any degree of confidence: that was, that the desert might not stretch so far to the south or west as it appeared to do; and by breaking up the wagon, and making a light cart out of it, we might still be able to cross it. i was determined, therefore, first to go alone, and explore the route in both these di- rections. if it should appear practicable, i could return, and put this design into execution. "next morning, having loaded my horse with pro- visions, and as much water as he could well carry, i a fruitless search for a trail. took an affectionate leave of my wife and little ones; and, commending them to the protection of god, i mounted, and rode off toward the west. i headed in this direction for a day and a half, and still the waste stretched to the horizon before me. i had made but a short journey, for the path led through ridges and hillocks of moving sand, and my horse sank to the knees at every step. in the afternoon of the second day, i turned back from the attempt, fearful that i should not be able to regain the valley. but i succeeded at length,—both myself and horse almost dead with thirst on arriving there. "i found my little party all well, as i had left them; but i had brought them no glad tidings, and i sat down in their midst with a feeling of despair. "my next reconnoissance was to be to the south; and i only waited until my jaded horse might be sufficiently rested for the journey. "another day passed, and i was sitting upon a log near the fire, reflecting upon the dark future that lay before us. i was filled with despondency, and took no note of what was passing around. when i had sat in this way for some time, i felt a light hand touching me upon the shoulder; and, looking a fruitless search for a trail. up, i saw that mary had seated herself upon the log beside me, while a smile of cheerfulness and com- posure was playing upon her fair features. "i saw that she had something in her mind that she was about to communicate to me. "' what is it, mary?' i asked. "' is not this a lovely spot?' said she, waving her hand so as to indicate the whole scene by which we were surrounded. my eyes, along with hers, roamed for a moment over the fair picture, and i could not do otherwise than answer in the affirmative. it was, indeed, a lovely spot. the open glade, with the golden sun streaming down upon its green herbage, and vivid flowers — the varied tints of the forest frondage, now dressed in the brilliant livery of au- tumn—the cliffs beyond, contrasting with it in colour from their lining of dark green cedars and pines— and, higher still, the snow-white summit, as it towered against the blue sky, sparkling under the sun, and lending a delicious coolness to the air—all these objects formed a panorama that was indeed lovely to look upon. and there were sweet sounds falling upon the ear — the murmur of distant waters — the light rustling of leaves, stirred by a soft breeze that blew past laden with the aromatic odours of buds and a fruitless search for a trail. flowers—the music of birds that sang to each other in the groves, or uttered their joyous calls as they flapped their bright wings over the open glade. "' yes, mary,' i replied, 'it is indeed a lovely spot.' "' thet , robert,' said she, with a look of strange meaning, 'why should we be so anxious to leave it?' "' why?' i repeated mechanically after her, wondering at the question. "' yes, why?' continued my wife. 'we are in search of a home — why not make this our home? where can we find a better? how know we that in that land whither we were going, we may find one so good — if, indeed, they give us a home at all?' "' but, dear mary,' said i, 'how could you live away from the world — you who have been brought up in the midst of society and its refinements?' "' the world !' replied she, ' what care we for the world? have we not our children with us? they will be our world, and we can be society enough for each other. moreover,' continued she, 'remember how little we have in that world,—remember how it has used us so far. have we been happy in it? no, m a fruitless search for a trail. i have enjoyed more happiness here than i ever did in the midst of that society of which you speak. think, robert! reflect before we rashly leave this lovely spot—this sweet home—into which i can almost believe the hand of god has guided us.' "' but, mary, you have not thought of the diffi- culties, the hardships to which such a life may ex- pose you.' "' i have,' she replied. 'i have thought of all these while you were absent. i can see no difficulty in our procuring a subsistence here. the creator has bountifully stocked this singular oasis. we may easily obtain all the necessaries of life — for its luxuries i care but little. we can live without them.' "her words produced a strange effect upon me. up to that moment the idea of remaining in the oasis had never entered my mind. i had only occu- pied myself with speculating on the means by which we could escape from it. now, however, a sudden change came over my thoughts; and i began to think seriously of following the counsel of my self- sacrificing companion. the harsh treatment we had received at the hands of civilized man — buffeted about by ill fortune — continually deceived, and at a fruitless search for a trail. every step becoming poorer and more dependent, all had their effect in blunting that desire i should otherwise have felt to get back to the world. i was not averse then to the idea, but rather ready to fall at once into the plan. "i remained silent for a length of time, casting over in my mind the possibility of our carrying out such a scheme—the chances of our being able to procure subsistence. it was evident there was plenty of game in the valley. we had occasionally seen deer of different species, and we had also discovered the tracks of other animals. there were pheasants and turkeys, too, in abundance. we had our rifles, and by good fortune a large stock of ammunition—for, besides my own, harry and frank had powder-horns containing nearly a pound each. but this in time would be expended—what then? oh, what then? before that i should find out some other mode of capturing our game. besides, the valley might con- tain many other things intended to sustain life— roots and fruits. we had already found some indi- cations of this; and mary, who was an accomplished botanist, could tell the uses of them all. we should find both food and water. what more could we ask from the hand of nature? a fruitless search for a trail. "as i ran these thoughts through my mind, the project became every moment more feasible. in fact, i grew quite as enthusiastic about it as my wife. "cudjo, frank, and harry, were brought into our council, and they, too, received the idea with delight. the faithful cudjo was contented, as he alleged, with any lot, so long as he might share it with us. as for the boys they were in raptures with the thought of such a free wild life. "we did not fully resolve upon anything for that day. we were determined not to act rashly, but to reflect seriously upon it, and to renew our delibera- tions on the following morning. "during that night, however, a circumstance oc- curred, which at once fixed my resolution to remain in the valley — at least until some unforeseen chance might enable us to leave it with a better prospect of safety. the mysterious flood. chapter xvi. the mysterious flood. "well, my friends, i shall now detail to you the strange incident, which at once decided me to adopt the suggestion of my wife, and make our home in the valley. perhaps we did not, at the time, contemplate staying here for the remainder of our lives—but only for a few years. however, we resolved to remain for the present, and give our lonely life a fair trial, leaving the future an open question. "the reason why i had hesitated at all upon the subject was this :—i could not think of settling down with no prospect of improving our condition; for, however much we might exercise our industry, its products could not enrich us beyond the satisfying of our own wants. we should have no market, thought i, for any superfluous produce, even could we culti- ti"- mysterious flood. vate the whole valley. we could, therefore, hecome no richer, and would never he in any fitter state to return to civilized society — for, in spite of all, a thought of this still remained in my mind. "mary, who was of a far more contented disposi- tion than i, still persisted in arguing that as our happiness did not depend upon possessing riches, we would never desire to leave that lovely spot, and that, consequently, we should stand in no need of wealth. "perhaps hers was the true philosophy—at all events, it was the natural one. but the artificial wants of society implant within us the desire of accumulating individual property; and i could not rid myself of this provident feeling. 'if we could only find some object,' said i, ' upon which we might he exercising our industry, so that our time should not be wasted, and by which we might prepare our- selves for returning to society, then for a time might we live most happily here.' "'who knows?' said mary, in reply to this; 'there may he objects in this valley that may occupy us, and enable us to lay up the very store you speak of, as well as if we were to continue on to new mexico. what opportunities should we have there the mysterious flood. better than here? we have nothing now to begin life with anywhere. here we have food and land, which i think we may fairly call our own; there we should have neither. here we have a home; and how know you, robert, that we may not yet make a fortune in the desert?' "we both laughed at the idea; which, of course, mary had meant only as a jest in order to render our prospects more cheering. "it was now near midnight, for we had sat up to that late hour deliberating on what we should do. as i have said, we agreed to leave the matter undecided until the morrow. the moon was just appearing over the eastern cliff; and we were about rising to retire to our resting-places, when our eyes fell upon an object that caused us all at the same time to cry out with astonishment. "i have said, that when we first entered this valley there was no lake here. where you now see one, was a green sward, with here and there a cop- pice of trees, forming part of the little prairie in which we were encamped. the stream ran across it, as it still does through the lake; but at this point there were scarcely any banks, as the water flowed over a wide and shallow channel. on previous the iysteriou flood. nights, when the moon was shining into the valley, as we sat around our camp fire, we had noticed the stream winding like a silver thread through the dark green herbage. now, to our extreme wonder, in- stead of the narrow line, a broad sheet of water glistened before us! it seemed to cover a space of several hundred yards in extent, reaching far up the glade towards our camp. could it be water, or was it only the mirage—the fata morgana? no; it was not the latter. we had witnessed this before, on our passage across the great plains. we had witnessed it on several occasions, and it was nothing like what we now saw. there is a filmy, whitish appearance about the illusions of the mirage by which the experienced traveller can always distinguish it from the real. but there was nothing of that in the present instance. it was water that spread before us,— for the moon, that had now risen above the cliff, was plainly reflected upon its calm and glassy sur- face. yes; it could be nothing but a sheet of water! "but we were determined not to trust to our eyes alone. we all ran towards it—cudjo, the boys, and myself,—and in a few seconds we stood upon its edge—upon the edge of what appeared to be a large lake, formed as if by some magical influence! the mysterious flood. "we had at first regarded the phenomenon only with feelings of wonder, but our wonder was now changed to consternation, when we perceived that the water was still rising! it ran in about our feet while we stood, rippling slowly against the gentle ascent like the influx of a tide. "' what could it mean?' we asked of each other, with looks that betrayed our fears. was it a flood— an inundation—a sudden swelling of the stream? this it plainly was, but what could have caused it? there had been no rain for several days before, and no great heat to have caused any unusual melting of the snow upon the mountain. what, then, could be the origin of this sudden and singular freshet? what could it mean? "we stood for some time silent, with hearts beat- ing audibly,—each looking at the others for an answer to this question. the solution seemed to strike us all at the same time, and a fearful one it was. some terrible convulsion—the falling of the preci- pice perhaps—had dammed the canon below; no doubt, had blocked up the great fissure by which the stream found its way from the valley. if such were the case, then, the valley would soon fill with water, the mysterious flood. not only to cover the ground occupied by our camp, but the tops of the highest trees! "you ■will easily conceive the terror with which this thought was calculated to inspire us. we could think of no other cause for the strange inundation, nor, indeed, did we stay longer to consider of any, but ran back to the camp, determined to escape from the valley as soon as we could. cudjo caught the horse, mary awoke the children, and brought them out of the wagon, while the boys and i busied our- selves in collecting a few necessary things, that we might be enabled to carry along with us. "up to this time we had not thought of the diffi- culty—much less the impossibility—of escaping from the valley. to our horror, that now became clear as the sun at noon-day; for we perceived that the road by which we had entered the glade, and which lay along the stream, was completely covered, and the rising water reached far beyond it! there was no other path by which we could get out. to attempt cutting one through the thick tangled woods would be the work of days; moreover, we remembered that we had crossed the stream on the way to our camp, and that, of course, would now be swollen below, so the mysterious flood. that to re-cross it would be impossible. we had no doubt but that the valley, at its lower end, was by this time filled with water, and our retreat in that direction completely cut off! we knew of no other path! "i cannot describe the state of mind into which we were thrown, when these facts became evident to one and all of us. we were about to start out from the camp, each of us carrying our burden; but it was plainly of no use making the attempt, and we let fall the various utensils with a feeling of despair. the water was still rising—the lake was growing larger! "the wolves howled, driven from their lair by the encroaching element—birds, roused from their sleep, screamed and fluttered among the trees—our dogs barked at the strange sight—and, in the clear moonlight, we could see deer, and other wild animals, rushing, as if terrified, through the open glade. god! were we to be engulfed, and perish in this mysterious flood? "what was to be done? should we climb into the trees? that would not save us. if the great channel was blocked up below, i knew that that would not save us; for its jaws were higher than the tops the mysterious flood. of the highest trees, and the rising flood would soon lick us from the branches. it might prolong our lives, and with them our despair; but what—' ha!' the thought, heaven-directed, at this moment en- tered my mind. "'a raft! a raft! we shall yet be saved!' "my companions at once understood my meaning. cudjo seized the axe, while mary hastened to the wagon to collect such ropes and cords as were in it. i knew there would not be enough of these for our purpose; and, spreading out the great elk-skin, i proceeded to cut it into stripes. "there were several logs lying close to our camp. they were the trunks of tall straight trees, that, from time to time, had fallen, and were now quite dead and dry. they were the trunks of the beautiful liriodendron, or tulip-tree, out of which the indians always make their canoes, when they can get them of sufficient size. this, because their wood is extremely soft and light—weighing only twenty-six pounds to the cubic foot. while busy myself, i directed cudjo to cut a number of these logs into equal lengths. cudjo knew how to handle an axe with any other man, and the logs were soon of the proper dimensions. we now rolled them together, the mysterious flood. and, by the aid of our ropes and cross pieces, lashed them firmly to one another; and our raft was com- pleted. upon this, we placed our great chest, con- taining the jerked meat, with our blankets, and such utensils as were necessary to be saved. we laid in no stock of water for the expected voyage—we had no fear about our having enough of that. "we had been occupied nearly two hours in con- structing the raft; but during all this time we had been so busy, that we had hardly looked in the direc- tion of the flood—only to see that it still continued to rise. as soon as our arrangements were com- pleted, i ran down to the water's edge. after watching it for a few minutes, to my great joy i per- ceived that the flood was at a stand! i shouted the glad news to my companions, who, on hearing it, hastened to join me, and assure themselves by actual observation. for half-an-hour, we all stood upon the shore of the new-formed lake, until we became convinced that its waters were rising no higher. we saw, too, that they did not subside, but remained stationary. 'it has reached the top of whatever has dammed it,' thought we, 'and is now flowing over.' "' what a pity, massa koff,' said cudjo, as we the mysterious flood. wended our way back to the camp; 'what a pity we make dat fine ran for nuffin!' "' ah, cudjo,' rejoined my wife, ' we should never regret having performed that which is a work of pre- caution; and we must remember that the raft — although it may not be required as we intended it— has already far more than repaid us for the labour bestowed upon it. remember the misery we were suffering but a short time since, and from which the idea of this raft at once relieved us. measures of precaution, however irksome, should always be adopted. it is only the slothful and vacillating who either neglect or regret them.' "' dat's true, missa—dat's berry true,' said cudjo, in a serious tone, for he well knew how to appreciate the teachings of his noble mistress. "it was now very late, or rather very early, and mary, with the children, returned to their usual resting-place in the wagon. gudjo and i, fear- ing to trust to the capricious water, determined— lest it might take another turn, and 'catch us nap- ping '—to keep watch on it till the morning. the beavers and wolverene. chapter xvii. the beavers and wolverene. "when daylight came, the mysterious flood was still standing at its full height. i call it mysterious, for as yet we knew nothing of what had so suddenly created it. we could think of no other cause than the falling in of the precipice below. i had deter- mined, as soon as the day fairly broke, to make my way through the woods, and remove all doubt —for we still felt some uneasiness in regard to this strange phenomenon. "leaving cudjo with his long spear, and the boys with their rifles, to guard the camp, i set forth alone. i took with me my gun, as well as a small hatchet ■which we had, to clear away a track through the brushwood. "i struck at once into the woods, and guiding myself by an occasional glimpse of the sun that had the beavers and wolverene. now risen, i kept on in a south-easterly course. it was my intention to get out on the edge of the flood some distance below, when i could then skirt around it. after cutting my way through the brambles to the distance of nearly a mile, i came suddenly out upon the bank of the rivulet; and guess my surprise, on seeing that the stream was not only not swollen, but there was even less water than usual running in its channel! i noticed, however, that the water was muddy, and that green leaves and fresh broken twigs were floating down upon its current. "of course, i now turned my face up-stream, know- ing that the dam must be in that direction; but, for my life, i could not imagine how any accident of nature could have stopped up the channel above. the falling of trees could not possibly have pro- duced such an effect; and there were no high bluffs abutting on the rivulet, that could have fallen into its bed. i began to believe that human hands had been at work; and i looked for the prints of human feet. i saw none, but the tracks of animals were numerous. thousands of them, at least—great broad feet, webbed like those of a duck, but with sharp claws—were impressed in the sand and mud, all along the banks of the stream. the beavers and wolverene. "i moved forward very cautiously; for, although i could not discover their tracks, i was still fearful that indians, and of course enemies, were near. at length, i reached a hend in the stream, above which i remembered that the channel was narrower, and ran between banks of a considerable height. i remembered this well—for, on first entering the valley, we had been obliged at this place to draw the wagon out of the bed of the rivulet, and cut a way for it through the adjacent woods. no doubt, then, i would there find the obstacle that had so myste- riously intercepted the current. "on reaching this bend, i climbed out upon the bank; and, stealing silently through the underwood, i peeped through the leaves. a most singular scene was before me. "the stream, as i had rightly conjectured, was dammed up, at the point where the channel was nar- rowest, but not by any accident. the work bore the marks of design, as much as if it had been con- structed by human hands. a tall tree had been felled across the stream—so that the place where it had been cut through was not detached from the stump, but still held fast by its crushed fibres. on the other side its top branches were buried under n the beavers and wolverene. rocks and mud, so as to render them secure. against this tree upright stakes rested; and these again were wattled together, and firmly hedded in rocks that had been collected around their lower ends. behind these uprights were piled other stakes and branches laid crosswise, and bound together with layers of rocks and mud—so that the whole structure formed a wall of full six feet in thickness—broad along the top, and sloping off toward the water. on the lower side it stood nearly perpendicular, as the uprights were thus set. the top of this was plastered with mud, and at both sides was left a narrow sluice, or wash, through which the water ran smoothly off, without wearing away the breastwork. "i have said that the work bore the marks of design, as much as if it had been constructed by human hands. but it was not. the builders of that breastwork were before my eyes, and apparently just resting from their labours. "there were about an hundred of them in all, squatting over the ground, and along the parapet of the new-made dam. they were of a dark brown— or rather a chestnut colour — and reminded me of so many gigantic rats, except that their tails were not elongated and tapering like these. their backs, the beavers and wolverene. however, were arched, and their bodies of a thick rounded shape, similar to animals of the rat kind. moreover, i could perceive that they were armed with the cutting teeth, which distinguish the family of the rodentia, or 'gnawers.' these teeth i could see distinctly, as some of the animals were using them at the time, and they even protruded when their mouths were shut. i noticed that there was a pair of them in each jaw, broad, strong, and shaped like chisels. the ears of the animals were short, and almost buried in the hair, which although long was not shaggy, but presented a smooth appearance over all parts of their bodies. there was a tuft of stiff bristles growing out on each side of the nose, like the whiskers of a cat; and their eyes were small, and set high up, like those of the otter. their fore limbs were shorter than the hind ones, and both had feet with five claws, but the hind feet were broad and large, and completely webbed between the toes. it was they, then, that had made the tracks i had observed in coming up the stream. but the most striking feature of these animals was the tail. this appendage was entirely without hair, of a dark colour, and looking as though it was covered with the well-known substance shagreen. it was about a the beavers and wolverene. foot in length, several inches broad and thick, and not at all unlike a cricket-bat — except that it appeared heavier and more oval-shaped at the end. the animals were somewhat larger than otters, not so long, but much thicker and heavier in the body. "i had never seen such creatures before, but i knew at once what they were—for although i had neglected my other studies, natural history had always been my favourite, and i had made some pro- gress in that. i knew, then, that the strange beings before me were bearers — the castor fiber of the naturalists. "the whole mystery was now explained. a colony of beavers had migrated into the valley, and constructed their dam; and this it was which had caused the sudden inundation. "i remained for some time, after i had made the discovery, watching these creatures and their inter- esting movements. the breastwork appeared to be quite finished; but this did not follow from tbe fact that the animals were no longer at work upon it, as it is only by night they perform such labour. in fact, they are rarely seen except by night, in countries where they have been disturbed or hunted; but here they were evidently unaccustomed to man. they the beavers and wolverene. with his tail. this was evidently a signal; for, the moment he had given it, the animal, as if pursued, pitched himself head-foremost into the lake, and disappeared. the rest started as soon as they heard it; and looking around for a moment, as if in affright, they all ran to the bank, and plunged simultaneously under the water—each of them striking a blow with his tail as he went under! "i now looked for the cause of this sudden move- ment. all at once i perceived, coming around the lake where the sentry-beaver had disappeared, a strange- looking animal. it move'd slowly and silently, skulk- ing among the trees, and keeping close in to the water's edge. i saw that it was making for the new- built dam, and i remained where i was to watch it. at length it reached the breast-work, and crawled cautiously along it, keeping behind the parapet—so as not to be seen from the lake above. "i had now a good view of it, and a vicious- looking creature it was. it was not much larger than one of the beavers themselves; and in some points not unlike them; but in other respects the difference was marked. it was of a very different colour—being nearly black upon the back and belly, while a light brown strip traversed both its sides, the beavers and wolverene. meeting over its rump. its nose and feet were com- pletely black, while its breast and throat were white, and a whitish ring was around each of the eyes. it had small ears, with stiff bristles at the nose, and a short and bushy tail. the hair over its whole body was long and shaggy. its legs were thick and mus- cular, and so short that, when it moved, its belly seemed to trail along the ground. it appeared rather to crawl than to walk. but this arose from the fact of its being an animal of the plantigrade family; and using its feet to walk upon — which in many other animals, such as the horse, appear to form part of the legs. with the animal in question the feet were long, black, and armed with white curving claws. its whole appearance was that of a carnivorous creature — in other words, it was a beast of prey. it was the wolverene, the dreaded enemy of the beavers. "on arriving out near the middle of the breast- work, it stopped; and, planting its forefeet up against the parapet, raised its head slowly, and looked over into the lake. "although the beaver is an amphibious animal, and spends full half of his time in the water, he cannot remain long, without coming to the surface to * the beavers axd wolverene. take breath; and already the heads of several were seen at different points in the lake. others, again, had boldly climbed out on the little islets which here and there appeared above water, and where they knew that the wolverene, who is not a good swimmer, could not reach them. none of them, however, showed any signs of returning to the breast-work. "the wolverene seemed also to have arrived at this conclusion; for now—apparently careless of being seen from the lake—he looked around him on all sides and above, as if he either intended giving up the pursuit of his prey, or adopting some more effective measure to secure it. at length he ap- peared to have formed some resolution, and leaping boldly up on the parapet, so as to be seen by the beavers, he walked back again along the water's edge whence he had come. on getting a good dis- tance from the breast-work, he stopped for a moment; and then, turning away from the lake, ran off into the woods. "i was curious to see whether the beavers would now return to the breast-work, and i resolved to remain a while longer without showing myself. i waited about five minutes or more, at the end of which time i saw several of them—who had gone to the wolverene and the beavers. the beaveks and wolverene. the most distant islets—plunge into the water and come swimming towards me. as i was watching them, all at once i heard a rustling among the fallen leaves near the dam; and on looking i per- ceived the wolverene making all the haste he could toward the breast-work. . on reaching it, however, instead of running out behind the parapet as before, i saw him plant his long claws against a tree, and com- mence climbing upward, keeping on that side farthest from the lake. the branches of this tree stretched horizontally out, and directly over the breast-work. in a short time the wolverene had reached the fork of one of these; and, crawling out upon it, he laid himself flat along the branch and looked downward. "he had scarcely settled himself on his perch, when half-a-dozen beavers—thinking from what they had seen that he must have gone clear off—climbed out upon the breastwork, flapping their great tails as they came. they were soon under the very branch, and i saw the wolverene with his legs erected and ears set for the spring. this was my time, and glancing up the barrel of my rifle, i aimed directly for his heart. at the crack, the astonished beavers leaped back into the water, while the wolverene dropped from his perch—a little sooner, perhaps, the beavers and wolverene. than he had intended—and rolled over the ground evidently wounded. i ran up and struck at him with the butt-end of my gun, intending to finish him; but, to my astonishment, the fierce brute seized the stock in his teeth, and almost tore it to pieces! for some time i hammered him with huge stones—he all the while endeavouring to lay hold of me with his long curved claws—and it was not until i got a down- blow at his head with my axe that the fight was ended. a fearful-looking monster he was as he lay stretched before me, and not unlike the carcajou which had killed our ox at the camp, only smaller. i did not attempt to take his carcass with me, as it was a useless burden. moreover, from the fetid smell which he emitted, i was glad to part company as soon as i had killed him ; and, leaving him where he lay, i took the shortest road back to the camp. how to build a log-cabin. chaptek xviii. how to build a log-cabin. "i need not describe the joy of my wife and the rest when i returned, and related to them what i had seen, as well as my adventure with the wolverene. the discovery that our new-made lake was nothing else than a great beaver-dam at once decided the question as to our remaining in the valley. here was a source of wealth to me far greater than would have been any situation in the mines of mexico—in fact, better than a mine itself. the skin of every beaver in that dam i knew to be worth a guinea and a half. i saw there were at least an hundred of them —there might be many more—and how soon would these multiply into thousands, producing annually four or five young to every pair of them. we could tend them—taking care to provide them with food— and destroy the wolverenes and any other of their how to build a log-cabin. enemies, that might exist in the valley. they would thus increase the faster, and we could easily prevent them from becoming too numerous by trapping the older ones, and carefully preserving their skins. after several years thus employed, we could return to civilized life, carrying with us enough of their valuable fur to sell for a smart fortune. "the prospect of staying where we were was now delightful—the more so, as i was satisfied it was the best thing i could do. even had i been able to procure a pair of fresh oxen at that mo- ment, i should not have moved a step farther. what mary had said in jest was now likely to be realized in earnest, we might yet make our fortune in the desert! "of course, it was a settled point—we resolved to remain. "the first thing to be done, then, was to provide ourselves with a house. it would be a ' log-cabin,' of course; and putting up a log-cabin was a mere bagatelle to cudjo. during our residence in vir- ginia, he had built two or three on my farm ; and no man knew better than he how to do the thing. no man knew better than he how to shape the logs, notch them, and lay them firmly in their beds—no how to build a log-cabin. man knew better how to split the 'clap-boards,' lay them on the rafters, and bind them fast, without even a single nail—no man knew how to 'chink' the walls, clay the chimney, and hang the door of a log-cabin better than cudjo. no. i will answer for that—cudjo could construct a log-cabin as well as the most renowned architect in the world. "there was plenty of the right kind of timber at hand—plenty of tulip-trees with their tall straight trunks rising to the height of fifty feet without a branch; and for the next two days the axe of cudjo could be heard with its constant 'check—check,' while every now and then the crash of a falling tree woke the echoes of the valley. while cudjo was felling the timber and cutting it into logs of a pro- per length, none of the rest of us were idle. in cooking our meals, scouring the vessels, and looking after the children, mary found sufficient employ- ment; whili frank, harry, and i, with the help of our horse pompo, were able to drag the logs forward to the spot where we had designed to put up the cabin. "on the third day, cudjo notched the logs, and on the fourth we raised the walls up to the square. on the fifth, we set up the gables and rafters, which, you know, is done by shortening the gable-logs sue- how to build a log-cabin. cessively, as you go upward, and tying each pair of them by a pair of rafters notched into them, at the ends, precisely as the wall-logs below. a ridge-pole completed the frame, and that was laid by the evening of the fifth day. "upon the sixth day, cudjo went to work upon a large oak which he had felled and cut into lengths of about four feet each, at the beginning of our opera- tions. it was now somewhat dry, so as to split easily; and with his axe and a set of wedges he attacked it. by sunset, he had a pile of clap-boards beside him as large as a wagon—quite enough to 'shingle' the roof of our house. during that day, i employed myself in tempering the clay for chinking the walls and plastering the chimney. "on the seventh day, we all rested from our labour. we did so because it was sunday. we had resolved ever to keep the sabbath. though the eyes of men could not see us—which i fear is too often the reason for observing the sacred day—we knew that the eye of god was upon us, even in that remote valley. "we rose as early as usual, and after eating our breakfasts, the bible was brought forth, and we offered—the only sacrifice to him acceptable—the how to build a log-cabis. mi sacrifice of our humble prayers. mary had been busy during the week, and our little ones were dressed out, as if for a holiday. taking them along with us, we all walked down to the lake and some distance around its edge. we saw that the beavers had been as busy in building as we; and already their cone-shaped dwellings appeared above the water—some of them near the shore, arid others upon the little islets. there was only one which we could reach, and this we examined with great curiosity. it stood only a few yards from the shore, but at a place where the water was deep on its front side. it was nearly cone-shaped, or rather the form of a bee-hive; and was constructed out of stones, sticks and mud mixed with grass. part of it was under water, but although we could not look into the interior, we knew that there was an upper story above water-mark — for we saw the ends of the joists that supported the second floor. the entrance was toward the centre of the lake and under the water—so that in going out of and into his house, the beaver is always under the necessity of making a dive. but he does not mind that, as it seems to be rather a pleasure to him than an inconvenience. there was no entrance toward the land, as we had often heard. indeed, it would how to build a log-cabin. be bad policy in the beaver, thus to make a door by which his enemy, the wolverene, could easily get in and destroy him. the houses were all plastered over with mud, which, by the flapping of the tails and the constant paddling of the broad web-feet, had become as smooth as if the mud had been laid on with a trowel. we knew that they were also plastered inside, so as to render them warm and commodious in winter. "some of these dwellings were not regular cones, but rather of an oval shape; and sometimes two were placed, as it were, 'under one roof,' so as to steady them in the water, and save labour in the building. they were all pretty large—many of them rising the height of a man above the surface of the lake, and with broad tops, where the beavers delighted to sit and sun themselves. each house was built by its own inhabitants, and each of them was inhabited by a single pair of beavers—man and wife—and in some instances where there were families by four or five. some of them who had finished their houses earlier than the rest, had already commenced gather- ing their provisions for the winter. these consisted of the leaves and soft twigs of several species of trees —such as willow, birch, and mulberry—and we saw how to build a lou-cabin. collections of these floating in the water in front of several of the houses. "it was late in the season for beavers to be con- structing a new dam. it is generally in spring when they perform that labour; but it was evident that the present colony had just arrived—no doubt driven by trappers or indians, or perhaps drought, from their last settlement, hundreds of miles away. we conjectured that they must have come up the stream that ran away to the eastward. "they must have entered the valley some time before we discovered them, as it would have taken them several days to gnaw down the trees and accumulate the materials for the dam that had so suddenly started up to alarm us. some of these trees were nearly a foot in diameter, while many of the stones—which they had rolled up or carried between their fore paws and throat—would have weighed nearly a score of pounds. "it was evident, then, they had arrived late in the season, and had worked hard to get ready for the winter. but cudjo and i were determined, as soon as we should have finished our building operations, to lend them a hand in laying in their stock of pro- visions. the sagacious squirrel. chapter xix. the sagacious squirrel. "while we thus stood watching the movements of our beavers, and conversing about the habits of these interesting animals, an incident occurred which very much amused us, and proved that the beavers were not the only animals whom nature had gifted with extraordinary sagacity. "near the middle of the lake stood a clump of tall trees—their trunks immersed for two or three feet under the water. these trees had been upon the bank of the rivulet, previous to the formation of the dam; and they were now surrounded on all sides, forming a kind of timber islet. it was evident, how- ever, that they were destined to decay, as they were trees of the poplar species, and such as could not live with their roots covered with water. "among the tops of these trees we observed the sagacious squirrel. several small animals leaping nimbly about from branch to branch and from one tree to the other. they were squirrels. they seemed to be labouring under some unusual excitement—as though they had been alarmed by the presence of an enemy. but there did not appear to be any such enemy near them. we noticed that they passed from tree to tree, running down the trunks of each, as far as the water would allow them; and then, after looking outward, as if they intended to leap into the lake, they would suddenly turn back again, and gallop up into the high branches. there were in all about a dozen of them; but the nimbleness, with which they passed from place to place, would have led one to believe that there were ten times that number; and the twigs and leaves were constantly kept in motion, as though a large flock of birds were fluttering through them. "we had noticed these animals before, from time to time, dashing about in the same clump of trees; but not thinking it anything unusual, had paid no attention to their movements. now, however, it occurred to us that these little creatures—who never take to the water unless compelled by absolute ne- cessity—had been suddenly cut off from their usual the sacxaciols squirrel. range by the forming of the dam, and were held where they were in a state of captivity. this was the more evident, as the trees had been stripped of many of their leaves, and the bark was peeled from the more tender twigs and branches. it was plain that the squirrels had been living for some time upon short allowance, and were anxious to get off from the place. "we now saw what was causing the unusual com- motion among them at that particular time. near the clump of trees, but higher up the lake, a small log was floating in the water. it had somehow got into the stream above, and was being borne down by the current. it was at this moment nearing the little island of timber upon which were the squirrels; but it came on very slowly, as the current through the lake was hardly perceptible. it was this log that was causing such a flurry; and the animals evidently intended—should it come near enough—to use it as a raft. "we seated ourselves to watch their manoeuvres. on came the log slowly and gradually; but, instead of drifting directly for the timber, it was borne by the current in a direction that would carry it at least twenty yards from the trees. the squirrels had the sagacious squirrel. gathered upon that side; and now, instead of running up and down the trunks, as before, they all stood upon the topmost branches apparently watching the motions of the log. "' poor little creatures!' said mary, 'they will be unable to reach it, after all. what a pity!' "just as she made this reflection, the log floated forward to the point where it was likely to be nearest to the clump in passing. a long branch stretched out in that direction; but, as we calculated, the drift- wood was not likely to pass nearer than twenty yards. on this branch, however, the squirrels had now gathered, one behind the other in a long string, and we could see the foremost of them straining him- self as if to spring. "' surely, they do not intend,—surely, they can- not leap so far!' said mary, as we all stood holding our breath, and watching them with intense curiosity. "' yes, missa,' replied cudjo; 'de do intend. gosh! de leap him, too. dis nigga see 'em in vaginny leap far furrer. looky now! yonder de go —wap!' "as cudjo spoke, the foremost squirrel launched out into the air, and the next moment pounced down upon the log. then another followed, and another, the sagacious squirrel. and another, looking like so many birds flying through the air in a string, until the log was covered with the little creatures, and floated off with its cargo! "we supposed that they had all succeeded in get- ting off, but in this we were mistaken. on looking up to the trees again, we saw that there was still one remaining. he appeared not to have got out upon the projecting branch in time,— for the weight of each of those that preceded him, coming down upon the log had pushed it so far off, that he became, no doubt, afraid to venture taking such a long leap. he was now running to and fro, apparently in a frantic state— both on account of his inability to escape, and his being thus left alone. for some time he kept springing from tree to tree, running down the trunks of all to the very edge of the water, and stopping now and again to look hopelessly after his com- panions. "at length, we saw him descend a tree, whose bark was exceedingly rough—in fact, crisped outward in great broad pieces, or scales of a foot long, and several inches broad, that looked as though they were about to fall from the tree. for this reason, the tree is known among backwoodsmen as the 'scaly bark.' having descended this tree, nearly to the the sagacious squirrel. point where it rose above the water, the squirrel was seen to stop; and for a moment we lost sight of him, where he was hidden behind one of the broad pieces of bark. we thought he had taken shelter there, intending to rest himself. presently, however, we saw the bark moving backwards and forwards, and from what we could see of the little animal, it was evident he was trying with all his might to detach it from the tree. occasionally he ran out from the crevice—scratched the bark outside with teeth and claws—and then hurriedly disappeared again. "these strange manoeuvres were kept up for several minutes, while we all remained upon the shore, watching with curiosity for the result. "at length, we saw the piece of bark move rapidly outward from the trunk, and hang down suspended only by a few fibres. these were soon gnawed by the teeth of the squirrel, and the broad scale fell into the water. it had hardly touched the surface, when the animal ran nimbly down, and leaped upon it! there was no current at the spot where the bark fell into the water; and we were in doubt whether it would carry him out from among the trees; but we were soon convinced that our squirrel knew what he was about. as soon as he had fairly balanced the sagacious squirrel. himself upon his tiny craft, he hoisted his hroad bushy tail high up in the air, by way of a sail; and, the next moment, we saw that the breeze catching upon it wafted the little mariner slowly, but surely, outward! in a few seconds he had cleared the trees; and the wind soon brought him within the influence of the current, which caused his bark to float down- ward after his companions. , "these had well-nigh reached the breastwork of the dam; and harry wished very much to intercept them as they got to land. this wish, however, was overruled by his mother, who very justly declared that the little creatures deserved to escape, after having so well amused us by their ingenuity. "in a short time, they all leaped ashore, and went scampering off among the trees in search of a din- ner—for by this time, no doubt, they were suffi- ciently hungry. a house built without a nail. chapter xx. a house built without a nail. "next day cudjo and i went on with our house- building. this day was appropriated to roofing it. we first laid a row of the clap-boards, projecting considerably over the eaves—so as to cast the water far out. these we secured near their lower ends by a long straight pole, which traversed the roof hori- zontally from gable to gable, and was lashed down by strips of wet elk-hide. these we knew would tighten as they dried, and press the pole firmer than ever against the boards. "we now laid a second row of the clap-boards— with their lower ends riding the upper ones of the first row, and thus securing them. the second row was in its turn secured by a horizontal pole, along its bottom, and at its top by the lower ends of the third row; and so on up to the ridge. a house built without a nail. "the other side was shingled in a similar manner; and the ridge itself was secured against leakage, by allowing the clap-boards, on one side, to project up- wards, and shelter the ends of those on the other. this gave our cabin quite a chanticleer sort of comb along its top, and added to the picturesqueness of its appearance. "our house was now built and roofed, and we could say that we had finished a house without ever having been inside of it — for as yet it had neither door nor windows. as the spaces between the logs were not yet 'chinked,' it looked more like a gigantic cage than a house. "our next day was devoted to making the door and window—that is, making the apertures where these were to be. we designed having only one window—in the back. "the manner in which we opened our doorway was very simple. having first carefully rested the logs—which were to be on each side of the door— upon firm wedges, we sawed away the parts between. fortunately, we had a saw, or this operation would have given us a good deal of trouble. of course, we sawed away the proper size for a door; and thus our doorway, by placing the lintels and posts, was com- a house built without a nail. plete. in a similar manner we cut out our window in the back. we then went to work upon one of the soft tulip-trees, and sawed out enough plank to make a door and window, or rather a window-shutter. these we cut to the proper size, and bound them together by slats, and tre-nails made out of the hard locust-wood. we then hung them—both door and window-shutter—with strips of elk-skin. that night we carried in all our bedding and utensils, and slept under the roof of our new house. "it was still far from being finished; and, the next day, we set about building a fire-place and chimney. this, of course, was to be in one of the gable ends, and ■we chose that looking northward—for we had built our cabin fronting to the east. we wedged the logs precisely as we had done with the door, and then sawed away the space between—up to the height of an ordinary mantel-piece. behind this, and alto- gether outside the house, we built a fire-place of stones and clay—laying a hearth of the same ma- terials, that completely covered the sleeper — in order to prevent the latter from being burned. on the top of this fire-place, the chimney was still to be erected; and this was done by notching short straight pieces of timber, and placing them across each other, a house built without a nail. exactly as we' had laid the logs of the house itself. these pieces were put in shorter, as we advanced to the top—so that the top ones might be lighter and more easily supported by those below; and when the whole was finished, and the chinks filled with clay, our chimney tapered upward like the funnel of a little factory. the chimney and fire-place occupied us quite a day, and at night—although it was not very cold—we tried it with a log-fire. it drew beau- tifully. "next day we 'chinked' the walls all round with chips, stones, and clay. we chinked gables and all, until not a hole was to be seen that would let a mouse through. the floor still remained; but we intended to lay this with plank, and as we had no means of getting them except by our small saw, and they would require some time to dry, we resolved to at- tend, first, to several other things that were of more necessity, and finish the floor at our leisure. we carpeted the ground, which was quite dry, with green palmetto leaves, and that rendered it sufficiently comfortable for the present. we now formally en- tered our new house, which we had built from floor to chimney without a nail! "our next care was to furnish our horse with a a house built without a nail. house—in other words, to build a stable. not that the weather rendered it at all necessary for pompo— so our horse was called—to sleep under a roof; but we were fearful lest some beast of prey, prowling about by night, should fancy him—as the carcajou had fancied our poor ox. "the stable was only a two days'job—as we built it out of logs already cut, and roofed it with the refuse of our clap-boards. besides, we had no win- dow nor chimney to make, and we did not chink the logs, as that was not necessary for a stable in such a climate. our horse would be warm enough without that, and cudjo had made him a trough by hollowing out one of the tulip-trees. "from that time forth pompo was regularly called every evening at sunset, and shut up in his stable. we could not afford to let the carcajou make a meal of him, as in our log-hauling and other labours he was of great service to us. "as soon as the stable was finished, we set to work and put up a table and six strong chairs. as i have said, we had no nails; but, fortunately enough, i had both a chisel and auger, with several other use- ful tools. all of these i had brought in the great chest from virginia, thinking they might be needed a house built without a nail. on our beautiful farm at cairo. with the help of these, and cudjo's great skill as a joiner, we were able to mortise and dovetail at our pleasure, and i had made a most excellent glue from the horns of the elk and ox, along with their hoofs. we wanted a plane to polish our table, but this was a want which we could easily endure. the lid of our table was made of plank sawed out of the catalpa-tree; and with some pieces of pumice i had picked up in the valley, and the constant scouring which it received at the hands of our housewife, it soon exhibited a surface as smooth as glass. from my finding this pumice-stone, i concluded that our snow-mountain had once been a volcano—perhaps like the peak of teneriffe, standing alone in the water, when the great plain around us had been covered with a sea. "cudjo and i did not forget the promise we had made to the beavers. we could see these little creatures, from day to day, very busy in drawing large branches to the water, and then floating them towards their houses. we knew that this was for their winter provisions. they had grown quite tame, as soon as they found we were not going to molest them, and frequently came out on our side of the lake. for this confidence on their part we were a house built without a nail. determined to give them a treat they little dreamt of —at least, of receiving from our hands. "i had noticed a clump of beautiful trees, which grew near one side of the glade, and not far from where we had built our house. our attention had been called to them by the aromatic fragrance of their flowers, that blew around us all the time we were engaged in building. they were low, crooked trees, not over thirty feet in height—with oval leaves, six inches in length, and of a bluish-green colour. the flowers were about the size of a rose, although more like a lily in appearance, and white as snow. their perfume was extremely agreeable, and mary was in the habit of gathering a bunch of them daily, and placing them in a vessel of water. "i have already said that my wife understood botany, and all botanists take a pleasure in imparting their knowledge to others. she explained to us, therefore, the nature and properties of this sweet- scented tree. it was a species of magnolia—not that which is celebrated for its large flowers, but another kind. it was the magnolia glauca, sometimes called 'swamp sassafras,' but more generally known among hunters and trappers as the ' beaver-tree.' it is so named by them, because the beaver is fonder of its a house built without a nail. roots than of any other food; so fond of it, indeed, that it is often used as a bait to the traps by which these animals are caught. "whether our beavers had already discovered their favourite tree in some other part of the valley, we did not know. probably they had; but, at all events, cudjo and i by a very little labour, with our spade and axe, could save them a great deal; and so we set about it. "in a few hours we had dug up several armfuls of the long branching roots, and carried them down to the edge of the lake. we flung them into the water at a place where we knew the animals were in the habit of frequenting. in a short time the aro- matic roots were discovered, when a whole crowd of beavers were seen hurrying to the spot, and swim- ming off again to their houses, each with a root or a whole bunch of them in his teeth. that was a grand festival for the beavers. a battce of " black-tails." chapter xxi. a battue of " black-tails." "of course we could do nothing more for our beavers at present. it was not our intention to trap any of them until they should become very numerous, and then we could obtain annually a large number of skins. their tails, we knew, were very good to eat—in fact, quite a delicacy—but we could not afford to kill one of them merely for the sake of eating his tail, and the other parts of the beaver's flesh are by no means palatable. besides, we expected to find enough of game without that, as in every part, where the ground was soft, we saw the tracks of deer and other animals. "by the time we had fairly furnished our house, the flesh of the elk was beginning to run short, so that a grand hunting excursion was determined upon. it was also to be an exploring expedition, as up to p sio a battue of "black-tails." this time we had not visited any part of the valley except that which lay immediately around our house. frank, harry, and myself, were to form the party, while cudjo was to remain by the house, qpd guard the female portion of our little community with his great spear. "everything being ready, we started out with our three rifles, and took the route up the valley. as we passed along under high trees, we could see squirrels upon all sides of us; some of them sitting on their hind-quarters like little monkeys; some of them cracking nuts; some of them barking like toy-dogs; while others, again, leaped about among the branches. of course, as we advanced upon them, they sprang up the trees, or streaked off along the ground so swiftly that it seemed more like the flight of a bird than the running of a four-footed animal. on reaching a tree they would gallop up it, generally keeping on the opposite side to that on which we were, so that they might be secure. sometimes, however, their curiosity would get the better of their fears, and when they had climbed as high as the first or second forking of the branches, they would stop there and gaze down upon us, all the while flourishing their light bushy tails. we had a battue of " black-tails." excellent opportunities of getting a shot at them, and harry, who was not so thoughtful as his brother, wished very much to try his skill; but i forbade this, telling him that we could not afford to throw away our ammunition on such small game. indeed, this was a thought that frequently entered my mind, and made me anxious about what we should do when our ammunition became exhausted. i cautioned both my boys, therefore, not to spend a single shot on any animal smaller than elk or deer, and they promised to obey me. "when we had gone about a mile up-stream, we saw that the trees grew thinner as we advanced, and then opened into small glades, or spaces covered with herbage and flowers, usually called 'openings.' this, surely, was the very place to find deer—much more likely than in the thick woods, where these animals are in more danger from the cougar and carcajou, that occasionally drop upon them from the trees. we had not gone far among these openings, before we saw fresh tracks. they were more like the tracks of a goat than those of a deer, except that they were much larger. they were nearly as large as the tracks of the elk, but we knew they were not these. "we advanced with great caution, keeping in a battue of " black-tails." the underwood as much as possible. at length we saw that there was a large glade before us, much larger than any we had yet passed. we could tell this by the wide clear spaces that appeared through the trees. we stole silently forward to the edge of this glade, and, to our great satisfaction, saw a herd of deer feeding quietly out upon the open ground. "'papa, they are not deer,' said frank, as we first came in sight of them. 'see! who ever heard of deer with such ears as those? i declare they are as long as a mule's!' "' yes,' added harry; 'and who ever heard of deer with black tails?' "i confess i was myself puzzled for a while. the animals before us were certainly deer, as their long slender legs and great branched antlers testified; but they were very different from the common kind —and different, too, from the elk. they were much larger than the red or fallow deer, though not unlike them in shape and colour. but that which was strange, as my boys had at once noticed, was the peculiarity of their ears and tails. the former were quite as long as the ears of a mule, and reached more than half way to the tops of their antlers. their tails, again, were short and bushy, of a whitish a battue of " black-tails." "after thinking about this for a moment, i saw that an open passage led out of the glade through the trees on the other side. it was a wide avenue leading into some other glade; and i knew that the deer when startled would be most likely to make off. in that direction. i determined, therefore, to creep round to the other side, and intercept them as they attempted to run through. frank was to remain where we first saw them, while harry would go half way along with me, and then take his stand behind a tree. we should thus enclose the deer in a sort of triangle, and some one of us would be sure of getting them within range before they could escape. "i had scarcely got to the edge of the opening when i saw that the herd was browsing in towards frank. they were every moment getting closer and closer to him, and i watched eagerly for the shot. i knew he would not fire until they were very near, as i had cautioned him not to do so, on account of the smallness of his rifle. presently i saw the stream of smoke and fire issuing from the leaves; then fol- lowed the sharp crack, and then the yelping of our dogs as they broke forward. at the same time one of the deer was seen to spring upward and fall dead » a battue of "black-tails." in its tracks. the others wheeled and ran, first one way and then another, in their confusion; until, after doubling several times, they made towards the open- ing where i stood. in their flight, however, they had gone too close to harry, and as they were run- ning past his stand, the tiny crack of a rifle was heard among the bushes; and another of the black- tails rolled over on the plain. "it was now my turn; and i prepared myself to make the best shot i could or be beaten by my own boys. so as they came up i let drive at them, to my mortification missing them every one—as i thought at the moment. it soon appeared, however, that i was mistaken in this. castor and pollux swept past upon the heels of the herd; and before they had dis- appeared out of the long avenue, i saw the dogs spring upon the haunches of one that lagged behind, and drag him to the ground. i ran to their assist- ance, and seizing the wounded animal by one of its antlers, soon put an end to it with my knife. i had wounded it in the flank; and that had enabled the mastiffs to overtake it, which they could not have done otherwise, as its companions were at the time several hundred yards ahead of it. we all now came a battue of "black-tails." together, exulting in the fine fortune we had met with, for we had made a regular battue of it. we were glad that none of us had missed, and that we had succeeded in obtaining so much good meat, for we were not slaughtering these beautiful creatures out of wanton sport, but from the necessity of procuring food. each congratulated the others upon their good shooting, and said nothing of his own—although it was plain that all three of us were proud of our re- spective shots. to do justice, however, that of harry was decidedly the best. he had knocked his one over while on the run — no easy matter with these black-tails, who do not gallop regularly as other deer, but bound forward, lifting all their feet together, as you will sometimes see sheep do. this mode of run- ning is one of the peculiarities of their species— which, perhaps, more than any other thing, distin- guishes them from the common deer. "after carefully wiping out, and then reloading, our rifles, we rested them against the trees, and set to work to skin our game. "while engaged in this operation, harry com- plained of thirst. indeed, we were all thirsty as well, for the sun was hot, and we had walked a good a battue of " black-tails." pointed out to them the importance of what we had found. we had been in great need of salt—for we had not a single grain of it—and had felt the want ever since our arrival in the valley. only they who cannot get salt, can understand what a terrible thing it is to be without this homely, but necessary article. "the flesh of our elk, which for many days past we lived upon, had proved quite insipid for want of salt, and we had not been able to make a soup that was in any way palatable. now, however, we should have as much as we desired; and i explained to my companions, that by simply boiling this water in our kettle, we should obtain the very thing we so much stood in need of. this, as they saw, would be great news for mamma on our return; and the prospect of making her happy, by imparting the information, rendered all of us impatient to get back. we did not stay a moment by the salt stream, which was a very small rivulet of blue water, and evidently run- ning from some spring that bubbled in the valley. not far below us, we saw where it ran into the main stream of fresh water; and, keeping down to the lat- ter, we quenched our thirst, and then went back to our work. catching a tartar. chapter xxii. catching a tartar. "of course, mary was much pleased on hearing of the discovery we had made. one of the first requi- sites of a housewife is a supply of good salt; and that we promised to ohtain for her on the morrow. it was our intention to carry the kettle up to the salt stream, and there manufacture the article, as that would be more convenient than to bring the water down to the house. this piece of work we laid out for the next day. meanwhile, as it was not yet near night, we caught pompo, and set off again to bring our black-tails home. this required us to make several journeys, as we had no cart by which we could bring the deer all at once, and each of them was as large as a good-sized heifer. we succeeded, however, in getting all to the house before sunset—except the skins, which we left hanging on catching a tartab. the trees for another day. while the boys and i had been engaged at this work, cudjo was not idle. it was our intention to cure the venison—not by 'jerk- ing,' as we had done the elk-meat, but with the salt, which we were about to make on the morrow. for this purpose, we should require a large vessel capable of holding the pickle. we had nothing of the sort; and, of course, we were puzzled for a while as to how we should manage without it. it was early in the day—before we had brought in the venison—that this difficulty occurred to us. "' why could we not leave it in the stream itself?' asked harry. 'the water is very clear, and there are clean hard rocks on the bottom. why could we not sink the quarters of venison on these rocks, and make them fast, by placing great stones on them?' "' ha, ha!' laughed frank, 'trust the wolves for finding them there. these gentry would soon empty your famous pickle barrel.' "' look hyar, massa,' said cudjo; 'this nigga sees no difficulty hout dat. he soon make a place for de meat.' "' how, cudjo ?' inquired mary. catching a tartar. "' why, missa, same's dey make de ole dug-out in varginny—by hollering out de log.' "this was the very thing itself. a log hollowed out after the manner of a canoe, or 'dug-out/—as cudjo was used to designate this species of craft— would answer the purpose admirably; and cudjo, having chosen a fine large section of a tulip-tree, went to work. by the time we had got our last load to the house, he had made a cavity in the tree, that was large enough to contain the three black-tails at once. a valuable idea was also suggested by this operation. we remembered the wooden trays, dishes, and other utensils—made in this way—that we had often seen among the negroes on our plantation. these, however rude, we saw answered the purpose well; and we might hereafter supply ourselves in a similar manner. "after breakfast the next morning, we started for the salt stream. we all went together, mary riding the horse, while cudjo and i carried the children in our arms. frank and harry took the kettle upon a long pole between them, each at the same time, having his rifle in the other hand. the dogs of course followed us, and our house was left to take catching a tartar. for a time when they might he more available in producing a happy effect. "as we were all marching through a small glade, talking and laughing in high glee, an animal leaped out of some bushes before us, and ran slowly off to one side. it was a beautiful little creature, about the size of a cat, with dark glossy hair, spotted about the head and neck, and with clear white stripes run- ning along its back. it did not go far before it stopped, and, throwing up its long bushy tail, looked back at us with the playful and innocent air of a kitten. i knew very well what the pretty creature was. not so the impetuous harry, who, thinking that here was the very 'pet' he wanted, dropped his pole, kettle, and all, and made after it. "i cried out to him to desist, but the boy, either not hearing me—on account of the yelping of the dogs, who had also started in pursuit—or being too intent on making a capture, ran on after the animal. but the chase did not last long. the little creature, appa- rently not the least frightened at the terrible enemies that were so close upon its heels—stood near the edge of the glade, as if to await its pursuers. harry, as he ran, was all the while eagerly scolding the escape of the skunk. p. . catching a tartar. off the dogs. he wanted to take the little beauty alive, and he feared that the mastiffs would kill it before he could come up. it looked, too, as if they would, for they were now almost on top of it yelping with open mouths. just at this moment, the strange animal was seen to elevate its hind-quarters, throw its long tail forward over its back, and give a sud- den jerk of its body, as if by way of an insult to its pursuers. but it meant something more than a mere insult. it meant to punish them for their audacity. the effect of that singular movement was at once apparent. the dogs suddenly wheeled in their tracks. their victorious yelping was changed to a fearful howling; and both of them ran back thrusting their noses into the grass, and capering over the ground as if they had either been stung by wasps, or had suddenly fallen into convulsions! harry stopped for a moment wondering at this. he did not stop long. the next moment we saw him throw his hands up to his face, and uttering a cry that betokened pain and terror, come running back as quick as he had gone off. "the pole-cat (for it was a pole-cat—the mephitis chinga, or american skunk) for an instant after he had discharged the fetid shower, stood looking over q catching a tartar. his shoulder in such a way, that we could almost fancy he was laughing. then jerking his tail from side to side in a frolicksome manner, he made a bound into the bramble, and disappeared. "whether the skunk laughed or not, ive did— especially frank, who took this method of retaliating upon his brother for dropping the great kettle against his shins. but we had no time to lose in talk, until we could get some distance from the glade, which was now filled with the suffocating smell. so calling upon harry to lay hold of his burden, we hurried as quickly as possible from the spot. the dogs, however, brought the effluvia along with them; and it required unusual scolding and pelting of stones to keep them at a respectful distance. harry had come off better than i expected, as the animal had directed its battery against the dogs, and he had only received enough of the dis- charge to punish him for his rashness and disobe- dience. "as we continued our journey, i took the oppor- tunity to instruct my children in the habits of this singular animal. "' you have seen,' said i, addressing myself to frank and harry, 'that it is about the size of a cat, catching a tartar. although broader and fleshier in the body, lower upon the limbs, and with a sharper and more elongated snout. "' you have seen that it is a spotted and striped animal—and in this respect it also resembles the cat, as these spots and stripes are different upon different individuals of the same species—so much so that no two skunks are exactly alike. "' you have witnessed the efficient means with which nature has armed it against its enemies; and i shall now tell you all the rest that is known of its habits. "'it is a carnivorous creature—destroying and eat- ing many other beings that have life as well as itself. for this purpose it is furnished with strong, sharp claws, and three kinds of teeth, one of which—term ed canine, or tearing teeth—is a certain symptom of its being a carnivorous, or flesh-eating animal. you must know, that the shape of the teeth will always tell this. those animals that feed upon vegetables, such as horses, sheep, rabbits, and deer, have none of these canine teeth. well, the skunk has four of them—two in each jaw, and very sharp ones, too,— and with these he kills and eats (whenever he is catching a tartar. lucky enough to get hold of them) rabbits, poultry, birds, mice, frogs, and lizards. he is very fond of eggs, too; and frequently robs the farm-yard, and the nests of the ruffed grouse and wild turkey—killing these birds whenever he can catch them. the kill- ing, however, is not all upon his side—as the wolf, the horned owl, the wolverene, and the farmer, in their turn, kill him whenever they can catch him. he is not by any means a fast runner, and his safety does not lie in his swiftness of foot. his defensive armour is found in the fetid effluvia which, by a muscular exer- tion, he is capable of ejecting upon his pursuer. this he carries in two small sacs that lie under his tail, with ducts leading outward about as large as the tube of a goose-quill. the effluvia itself is caused by a thin fluid, which cannot be seen in daylight, but at night appears, when first ejected, like a double stream of phosphoric light. he can throw it to the distance of five yards, and, knowing this, he always waits till the pursuer has fairly got within range—as the one we have justseen did with castor and pollux. the discharge of this fluid rarely fails to drive off such enemies as wolves, dogs, and men. sometimes it occasions sickness and vomiting; and it is said that catching a tartar. there are indians who have lost their eyesight from inflammation caused by it. dogs are frequently swollen and inflamed for weeks, after having received the discharge of a skunk. in addition to the dis- agreeableness of this odour, there is no getting rid of it after the fluid has once been sprinkled over your garments. clothes may be washed and buried for months, but it will still cling to them; and where a skunk has been killed, the spot will retain the scent for many months after, even though deep snow may have lain upon it. "'it is only when attacked or angered that the animal sends forth his offensive fluid, and when killed suddenly, or before he has time to ' fire it off,' nothing of the kind is perceived upon his carcass. "'the skunk is a burrowing animal, and in cold countries he enters his hole, and sleeps in a half- torpid state throughout the winter. in warm climates, however, he continues to prowl about all the year round, generally at night—as, like most predatory creatures, the night is his day. in his burrow, which runs several yards underground, he lives, in company with ten or a dozen of his companions. the female has a nest in one part, made of grass and catching a tartar. leaves, where she brings forth her young—having from five to nine kittens at a birth. "'strange as it may appear, the indians, as well as many white men—hunters and others—eat the flesh of this animal, and pronounce it both savoury and agreeable—equal, as they allege, to the finest roast pig. so much for the skunk and his habits. now to the making of our salt.' the salt spbing. ♦ chapter xxiii. the salt spring. "we had now arrived on the banks of the salt creek; but as we saw the cliff close by, and knew that we must be near the spring which supplied this little rivulet, we resolved to travel on to the fountain-head. a few hundred yards farther brought us to the spring, and it was well worth travelling a little farther to see. "near the bottom of the cliff were several round objects, looking like half globes, or bowls turned upon their mouths. they were of a whitish colour, resembling white quartz rock; and of all sizes, from that of a large baking oven to the size of a wooden dish. in the top of each there was a round cavity— like a little crater of a volcano—and in this the blue water bubbled and boiled as though a hot fire was in the ground underneath them. there were in all the salt spring. nearly twenty of these, but many of them were#with- out the crater-like cavity in the top; and through the latter, of course, no water escaped to the creek. they were old ones, that had ceased to run. "it was evident that these oven-looking mounds had been formed by the water itself, which had been depositing the sediment that formed them for many, many years. around some of them there grew beau- tiful plants and shrubs, whose leaves and flowers hung over, trailing in the water; and from the cliff above long vines crept out, covered with gay scarlet blossoms. bushes of wild currants grew all around, and the fragrance of their leaves scented the air. it was altogether a sweet, cool spot, and filled us with feelings of enjoyment. "after we had satisfied our curiosity in examin- ing these objects, we prepared to make our salt. frank and harry collected armfuls of dry wood for the fire, while cudjo erected a crane in his usual fashion. upon this the kettle was suspended, and filled with crystal water out of one of the natural basins. the fire soon blazed under it, and we had nothing more to do than wait until the evaporation should be completed by boiling. "for this purpose we chose a spot where the ground the salt spring. was carpeted with a soft green turf, and upon it we all sat down to wait the result. "i need not say that in this we had a deep inter- est, amounting, in truth, to anxiety. it might not he salt after all. the water tasted salt—that is true. but so, too, would water impregnated by the muriate of magnesia or .the sulphate of soda. when evaporated we might find one or other of these sub- stances. "'what is the muriate of magnesia, papa?' inquired frank. "'perhaps you would know it better by the name of epsom salts!' rejoined his mother, with a know- ing smile. "' bah!' returned he, with a grin upon his face, 'i hope it won't turn out that. but what sort of thing, then, is the sulphate of soda?' "' that is the scientific name for glauber's salts.' "'worse still! i don't think we stand in need of either. do we, harry?' "'not a bit of it,' responded harry, also grinning at the thought of these well-known specifics. 'i would rather it should turn out saltpetre and sulphur. then we could make lots of gunpowder.' "harry was a great shot, as we have seen, and the salt spring. one of his fears was, that our stock of powder should run out. "' do not wish for that, harry,' said his mother. 'gunpowder we can do very well without. let us hope for something more necessary to us at present.' "with such-like conversation we passed the time, while we watched the steaming kettle with feelings of anxious expectation. "for myself, i had some reliance upon a fact which i had observed years before, and had regarded as singular. it was this. i believe the creator has so disposed it, that salt, so essential to animal life, should be found in all parts of the globe, either in rocks, springs, standing lakes, incrustations, or■in the ocean itself. no part of the earth of great extent is without it; and i had noticed in the interior terri- tories of the american continent—where the sea was too distant to be visited by animals—that nature had provided numerous salt springs, or 'licks,' as they are termed in the language of the country. these springs from time immemorial have been the meeting- place of the wild creatures of the forest and prairie, who resort thither to drink their waters, or lick the saline soil through which these waters run. hence their common name. here, then, was a valley whose the salt spring. four-footed inhabitants never roamed beyond its bor- ders. i believed that nature had provided for their wants and cravings by giving them everything neces- sary to their existence, and among the other necessi- ties that one which we were now in search of ourselves —salt. in other words, but that this was a salt spring, or there existed some other such in the valley, these creatures would not have been found within it. i took the opportunity to point out this fact to my boys, as well as to show them what i myself clearly recognised in it—the hand of the creator. it ren- dered them more confident that, when we had evapo- rated our water, we should get salt for our pains. "' papa,' inquired frank, who was a great natu- ralist, ' i should like to know what makes this little rivulet run salt water.' "' no doubt,' i replied, 'the water you see gush- ing forth has just been passing among vast beds of rock-salt, and has become impregnated with it.' "' rock-salt! and is the salt we use found in rocks?' "' not all of it, though great quantities are. there are beds of rock-salt found in many countries—in england, and the east indies, in russia, and hun- gary, and spain; and it has also been discovered in the salt spring. vast quantities in this very desert we are now in. these beds of rock-salt, when worked to supply salt to people, are called salt-mines. the most celebrated are in poland, near the city of cracow. these have been worked for seven hundred years, and there is enough left in them yet to supply all the world for many centuries to come. these mines are said to be very beautiful, lit up, as they are, by numerous lamps. the rock has been excavated by the miners into all sorts of shapes; houses, chapels, columns, obelisks, and many other ornamental forms of build- ings, have been made; and these, when illuminated by lamps and torches, become as splendid and bril- liant as the palaces of aladdin.' "' oh! i should like so much to see them !' cried harry, in a transport. "' but, papa,' inquired frank, who always sought after information on such subjects, ' i never saw any of this rock-salt. how is it that it comes to us always crushed, or in great bricks, as if it had been baked? do they break it fine before it is sent to market from the mines?' "' in some of these mines nothing more is required than to crush the rock; in others, however, the rock is not pure salt, but mixed with other substances, as the salt spring. oxide of irou and clay. in these cases it is first dis- solved in water, to separate it from such impurities, and then evaporated back again into salt, precisely as we are doing now.' "'what colour is the salt-rock, papa?' "'when pure it is white; but it assumes various colours, according to what substance may be found mixed with it. it is often yellow, andflesh coloured, and blue.' "'how pretty it must be!' exclaimed harry; 'like precious stones, i declare.' "' yes, it is a precious stone,' rejoined his brother; 'more precious, i take it, than all the diamonds in the world. is it not, papa?' "' you are quite right,' i replied. 'salt-rock is more valuable to the human race than diamonds, though they, too, have an absolute value, besides their value as an ornament. there are some important uses in arts and manufactures to which they can be applied.' "' but, papa,' again inquired frank, determined to know everything he could about the article of salt, 'i have heard that salt is made of sea-water. is it so?' "• vast quantities of it.' the salt spring. "' how is it made?' "' there are three ways of obtaining it: —first, in warm climates, where the sun is strong, the sea- water is collected into shallow pools, and there left until it is evaporated by the sun's rays. the ground where these pools are made must neither be muddy nor porous, else the salt would get mixed with the mud and sand. of course the people who manu- facture it in this way take care to choose firm, hard ground for the bottom of their pools. there are sluices attached to these pools by which any water that will not evaporate is drawn off. salt is made in this manner in many southern countries—in spain and portugal, in france and other countries that lie around the mediterranean; also in india, china, siam, and the island of ceylon. "'the second way of making salt from sea-water is precisely the same as that i have described— except that, instead of these artificial pools, the evaporation takes place in broad tracts of country over which the sea has spread in time of high spring- tides. when the sea falls again to its proper level, it leaves behind it a quantity of water in these tracts, which is evaporated by the sun, and they then become fields of pure salt. nothing remains to be done but the salt spring. to scrape this salt into heaps and cart it off; and at the next spring-tide a fresh influx of sea-water pro- duces a new crop of salt, and so on. this kind is better than that which is made in the artificial pools —though neither of them is equal to the salt of the mines. they are both known in commerce under the name of 'bay-salt,' to distinguish them from the 'rock-salt.' great natural beds of the last kind described are found in the cape de verde islands; also in turk's island and st. martin's in the west indies, and on kangaroo island, near the coast of australia. "'there is still a third plan of making salt out of the sea. that is by boiling the water, as we are doing; but this makes the worst of all salt, and it is far more expensive for any people to manufacture salt in this way than to buy it from other countries. indeed, this last plan would never be adopted were it not that some foolish governments force their people to pay a heavy duty for importing salt into their country, which makes it still cheaper for them, costly as it is, to manufacture the article at home.' "' what makes the sea salt, papa?' the salt spring. "' that is one of the phenomena about which naturalists have a difference of opinion. some of them say there are vast heds of salt at the bottom which keep the water always impregnated. i think this notion is very childish, and they who hold it offer only childish arguments to support it. others assert that the salt water of the ocean is a primitive fluid—that it was always as it now is—which you will perceive is giving no reason at all, more than saying, ' it is salt, because it always was salt.' this is an equally irrational theory. others, again, be- lieve that the saltness of the ocean is caused by the flowing into it of salt rivers. these last, i believe, hold the true opinion, but unfortunately they have failed, as far as i know, to answer the objec- tions which have been raised against it. your papa has reflected a good deal upon this subject, and believes that he can explain away all the diffi- culties that oppose this last theory. probably he may take an early opportunity of doing so, but it will require more time than he can spare at present.' "' is the sea equally salt at all places?' inquired the philosopher frank, after a short pause, during the alt spring. which he had been busily reflecting on what had been just said. "' no; it is more so at the equator than in the colder regions around the poles. it is less salt in gulfs and inland seas than in the open ocean. this i believe.i can also explain, because it would support the theory regarding the rivers of which we have just spoken. the difference of saltness in different parts of the sea is, however, very trifling.' '' ' how much salt is there in the sea-water?' '■ ' three and a half per cent nearly. that is, if you boil down one hundred pounds of sea-water, it will yield you about three pounds and a half of salt.' "' but are there not many lakes and brine- springs that contain a far greater proportion than that?' "' many. there is a large lake lying in this very desert, to the north-west of where we are, called the 'great salt lake.' the waters of that lake are more than one-third pure salt. there are many springs and rivers that contain a greater proportion than the ocean itself. it is to be hoped that our own little creek here will yield better than it.—but come! let us see how the kettle boils. we had almost forgotten it.' r the salt spring. "we approached our kettle, and lifted the lid. to our great joy, a scum was floating on the top, very much like crystals of ice forming upon melted snow. some of it was skimmed off and applied to our lips. joy! it was salt—the pure muriate of soda — equal to the hest ever shipped from turk's island. the battle of the snakes. chapter xxiv. the battle of the snakes. "i need not tell you that the announcement was received with joyful acclamations; and that one and all satisfied themselves by tasting of the salt. it had crystallized into small cubes, as salt always does; and it was as white as snow, which proved its great purity. we had put into the kettle — which was a large camp-kettle — about four gallons of water, and when it was fully evaporated, we obtained not less than ten pints of salt, showing that the water of our spring was much more saline than the sea itself. "when .our first kettle-full was disposed of, we re-filled it with water, and again hung it over the fire. we also hung another vessel beside the kettle; and that was our frying-pan, in which several fine steaks of venison, seasoned with the new salt, were cooked for our dinners. we were not unmindful of the battle of the snakes. the thanks which we owed to god for giving us this munificent supply of an article so much needed by us; and as soon as dinner was over, my wife took occasion to bring this subject pointedly forward, and we sat for some time conversing upon it. "all at once we were interrupted by a series of curious incidents which took place within sight of our fire. our attention was first drawn to them by hearing loud screams at a short distance from us, which we all recognised as the voice of the blue jay. there is nothing unusual in hearing this bird scream- ing half the day—for it is, perhaps, more easily excited than any other feathered creature. but, if you have ever noticed, it utters a very peculiar cry when there is something unusual in the wind. when some much-dreaded enemy is at hand, its note becomes extremely shrill and disagreeable. so it was then; and for that reason it drew my attention, as well as that of my companions. "we looked towards the spot whence the cry came. we could see the branches of a low tree in motion, and the beautiful sky-blue wings of the bird closing and spreading again as it fluttered through them. we could see nothing else upon the tree—that is, no enemy of the bird—nor on any of the trees near it. the battle of the snakes. on lowering our eyes to the ground, however, we perceived at once what had set the jay to scolding. slowly drawing itself along the earth, gliding through the grass and over the dry leaves, without causing even the driest of them to rustle, went a hideous reptile—a snake. its yellowish body, dappled with hlack blotches, glittered as the sun glanced from its lubricated scales, while it rose and fell in wavy undulations as it moved. it moved slowly—by ver- tical sinuosities, almost in a direct line, with its head slightly raised from the grass. at intervals, it stopped, elevated its neck, lowered its flat coffin- shaped head, like a feeding swan, gently oscillated it in a horizontal direction, touched the crisp leaves with its red tongue—as though it was feeling for a trail—and then moved on again. in its frequent pauses, as it lay stretched along the ground it appeared cylindrical, as long as the tallest man, and as thick as a man's fore-arm. its tail ended in a horny appendage about a foot in length, and resem- bling a string of large yellowish ill-shaped beads, or a portion of its own vertebra? stripped of the flesh. this peculiarity told us its species. we saw before us the dreaded rattlesnake—the crotalus horridus. "my companions were eager to rush forward and the battle of the snakes. at once attack the monster i restrained them, dogs and all. i had heard—who has not?—of the power of fascination which these reptiles possess. i knew not whether to believe or disbelieve it. here was an opportunity to test its truth. would it charm the bird? we should see. one and all of us remained motionless and silent. the snake crawled on. "the bird followed over-head, pitching itself from branch to branch, from tree to tree, screaming with open throat. neither of them noticed u , as we were partially concealed where we sat. "on reaching the foot of a tall magnolia, the rattlesnake — after going once round the tree, and apparently smelling the bark—slowly and carefully wound itself into a spiral coil, close in to the trunk. its body now presented the appearance of a speckled and glittering cable, as they are usually coiled on the deck of a ship. the tail with its horny appendage protruded beneath, and the flat head peeped over above, resting upon the uppermost ring of the body. the nictitating membrane was drawn over its eyes. it appeared to sleep. this i thought strange, as i had heard that the fascinating power of these crea- tures lay in the eyes. it soon became evident, how- \ the battle of the snakes. felt certain, then, that he was waiting for the descent of the squirrel; and desirous to see what should happen, i muttered some words of caution to my companions, who remained silent as before. "we sat watching the hole, expecting every mo- ment to see the squirrel come forth. at length, the little rat-shaped head peeped cautiously out; but in this position the animal remained, and did not seem inclined to trust itself beyond the mouth of its den. it was evidently observing us—which it could easily do from its elevated position — and was not intending to come down. "we were about giving up all hopes of witnessing a 'scene,' when our attention was drawn to a rustling among the dead leaves in the woods beyond. we looked in that direction. a squirrel was running toward the tree. it was running at full speed,— now along the fallen logs, now through the grass and dry leaves—apparently pursued. it was pur- sued; for almost at the same instant its pursuer came in sight — an animal with a long, slender body, twice the length of the squirrel itself, and of a bright yellow colour. it was the pine-weasel. "there were not twenty feet between them as they ran, and both were doing their best. the battle of the snakes. "i cast a glance at the rattlesnake. he knew what was coming. his jaws were extended — the lower one drawn back until it touched his throat,— his poisoned fangs were naked and visible; his tongue was protruded forward; his eyes glanced like diamonds; and his whole body rose and fell as with a quick respiration. he seemed to have dilated him- self to twice his natural size. "the squirrel, looking only behind, ran for the tree, and, like a streak of light, passed along the ridge and upward. we saw the snake launch out his head as the other passed him; but so quick had been the action, that it did not seem that he had even touched it. "' good!' thought we, as we saw the squirrel sweep up the trunk, and fancied that it was safe. before it had reached the first fork, however, we observed that it climbed more slowly— then faltered — then stopped altogether. its hind feet slipped from the bark; its body oscillated a moment, hang- ing by the fore-claws, and then dropped heavily back into the very jaws of the serpent! "the weasel, on seeing the snake, had suddenly stopped a few feet from it, and now ran around, dou- bling its long, worm-like body, and occasionally stand- the battle of the snakes. ing erect,—all the while spitting and snarling like an angry cat. it was evidently furious at being robbed of its prey; and we thought for awhile it was going to give battle to the snake. the latter had re coiled himself on seeing this enemy, and lay with open jaws awaiting the attack. the body of the squirrel—now quite dead—was close up to his coil, so that the other could not snatch it without coming within reach of his dangerous fangs. "on seeing this, and evidently afraid to encounter such a terrible antagonist, the weasel, after a while, ceased its hostile demonstrations; and, turning to one side, bounded off into the woods. "the reptile now leisurely uncoiled the upper half of his body; and, stretching out his neck toward the squirrel, prepared to swallow it. he drew the latter out to its full length along the ground, so that its head lay towards him. this he purposed to swal- low first — in order to take the animal 'with the grain'—and he now commenced lubricating it with the saliva that ran from his forked tongue. "while we sat watching this curious operation, our attention was attracted to a movement in the leaves above the spot where the snake lay. directly over him, at a height of twenty or more feet, a huge the battle of the snakes. liana, of the trumpet species, stretched across from tree to tree. it was full as thick as a man's arm, and covered with green leaves and large crimson cuneiform blossoms, such as belonged to itself. there were other blossoms mingling with these, for still other parasites—smaller ones—were twined around it, and we could distinguish the beautiful star-like flowers of the cypress vine. among these an object was in motion—a living object—a body—the body of a great snake, nearly as thick as the liana itself. "another rattlesnake! no; the rattlesnake is not a tree-climber,—it could not be that. besides, the colour of the one upon the vine was entirely different. it was of a uniform black all over— smooth and glittering. it was the black snake then — the ' constrictor' of the north. "when we first noticed it, it was wound upon the liana in spiral rings, like the worm of a gigantic screw. we saw that it "was slowly gliding down- ward—for the vine tended diagonally from tree to tree, and its lowest end impinged upon the trunk of the magnolia, about twenty feet from the ground. "on reaching this point, the snake gradually drew its rings closer together — until they appeared the battle of the snakes. to touch each other, lapping the liana. it then com- menced unwinding itself, by the head, which was slowly circled backward around the vine—still, how- ever, creasing closely along it. after a sufficient number of evolutions, the rings had completely dis- appeared—with the exception of one or two near the tail—and the reptile lay doubled along the liana. these manoeuvres it had executed silently and with great caution; and it now seemed to pause, and survey what was going on below. "during all this while, the rattlesnake had been busily engaged with the squirrel, and thought of nothing else. after licking the latter to his satisfac- tion, he extended his purple jaws, drew in the head of his victim, and, stretching his long body to its full extent, proceeded to swallow it, tail and all. in a few seconds, the head and shoulders of the squirrel had disappeared. "but the glutton was suddenly interrupted in his meal; for, at this moment, we observed the black snake gradually lower himself from the liana, until nothing remained upon the tree but a single loop of his prehensile tail; and his long body stretching downward, hung directly over the other. "' sureiy,' thought we, 'he is not going to en- the battle of the snakes. , counter the rattlesnake—the most terrible of all reptiles.' but the constrictor understood one chap- ter of herpetology better than we — for the next mo- ment we saw him drop to the ground; and, almost as quick as thought, he appeared, lapped in sable folds, around the speckled body of the ' crotalus!' "it was a singular sight to see those two creatures writhing and wriggling over the grass; and it was some time before we could tell how they battled with each other. there was no great difference between them, in point of size. the black snake was longer— by a foot or so—but much more slender in the body, than his antagonist. he possessed, however, an ad- vantage that soon made itself apparent—his activity, which was ten times that of the rattlesnake. we saw that he could easily evolve or wind himself at plea- sure around the body of the latter, each time com- pressing him with those muscular powers which have entitled him to his name—' constrictor.' at each fresh embrace, the body of the 'crotalus' appeared to writhe and contract under the crushing influence of his sable adversary. "' the rattlesnake had but one weapon, which he could have employed with effect—his fangs. these were already locked in the body of the squirrel, and the battle of the snakes. he could not use them upon his adversary. he could not get rid of that hairy morsel, that, lite a barbed arrow, now stuck in his throat. we could see that the squirrel still remained there, for, as the two reptiles struggled over the grass, its bushy tail was seen waving in the midst of their tortuous contest. "at length, the battle began to flag. the mo- tions of both combatants waxed slower and slower. we could now see how they fought. we could see —strange it appeared to us—that, instead of battling head to head—face to face—the fangs of the ' con- strictor' were buried in the rattles of the ' crotalus!' stranger still, the tail of the former rose and fell with a muscular and powerful impetus, whipping the latter to death! "the contest was soon ended. the rattlesnake lay stretched at full length — evidently dead; while the black constrictor still continued to hug the speckled body, as though it was an object to be loved. this lasted for a moment or so; and then slowly unwinding itself, the conqueror turned round, crept through the grass, and proceeded to appropriate the prey. the 'scene' was over, and we all leaped to our feet to enact the finale. the battle of the snakes. "i should have spared the constrictor, after the good service he had done in destroying the rattle- snake; but cudjo, who hated all sorts of creeping things, was ahead of me; and, before i could come up, i beheld the victor suspended upon his spear! the sugar-tree. chapter xxv. the sugar-tree. "in the evening, we returned to our house, carrying with us, on the back of pompo, a good-sized bag of salt. we had evaporated enough to cure our veni- son, and to last us for several weeks to come. when it should be used up, we knew where to go for more. there was no danger of the spring going dry. we had noticed, previous to the discovery of the salt creek, that the water of the lake was perceptibly brackish; but we had never reflected on the cause. doubtless, this fact had prevented us from yearning —as we might otherwise have done—for the valuable substance we had now obtained in such plenty. "that night, after we had finished eating our suppers, harry, who had been all the day burning with curiosity to know what was the important dis- the sugar-tree. "' well, then,' said she, 'my discovery is this. while we were going up the valley this morning, i saw at some distance over the woods the top leaves of a very beautiful and very valuable tree.' "' a tree!' cried harry; 'what! a cocoa-nut?' "' no.' "' a bread-fruit, maybe?' "' no.' "' orange, then?' "' no, harry,' replied his mother. 'you must know we are not in that latitude. we are too far north for either bread-fruits, orange-trees, or cocoa- nut palms.' "'ah!' exclaimed harry, with a sigh, 'those three are the only trees i care a fig for.' "' how, now, if it were a fig-tree, since you speak of figs?' "'oh! very well,' replied harry, 'figs will do; but i would rather it had been one of the others.' "' but it is not even a fig-tree.' "' oh! it is not. what then, mamma?' "' that of which i speak is a tree of the temper- ate zone; and, in fact, grows to greatest perfection in the coldest parts of it. have you noticed any tall the sugar-tree. straight trees, with thick foliage of a bright red colour?' "' yes, mamma,' answered frank; 'i have. i know a part of the valley where there are many of them— some of them nearly crimson, while others are orange- coloured.' "' that is the tree of which i speak. the leaves are now of those colours because . it is autumn. earlier in the season they were of a bright green above, and whitish, or, as it is termed, glaucous, on the under surface.' "' oh !' said harry, seemingly disappointed with this information. 'i have noticed them, too. they are very beautiful trees, it is true; but then' "' then, what?' "' they are of no use to us—such big trees as they are. there is no fruit upon them, for i looked carefully; and what then? we do not need their timber, i'm sure. we have as good timber as we want in these tulip-trees.' "' come, master hal—not so fast, if you please. there are many parts of a tree which may serve for valuable uses besides its fruit, or its timber either.' "' what! the leaves?' inquired the impatient harry. 'what use can we make of leaves?' the sugar-tree. "' come, master,' said frank, in an improving tone; 'the leaves of some trees are very valuable. what think you of the tea-plant, for instance?' "harry felt rebuked, and remained silent. "' we can make no use of the leaves of this tree,' continued his mother; 'at least none that i am aware of.' "' the bark, then ?' interrogated harry. "' no—not the bark either." * "'the roots?' "' i know of no peculiar virtue in its roots more than those of the oak, ash, or any other large timber trees.' "' what then, mamma? it has no flowers, i am sure; nor fruit neither, except little seeds with wings upon them like a spider-fly.' "' those are its fruit.' "' oh ! what use could we make of them? i have seen just the same, or very like them, growing on the common sycamore-tree.' "' you are right there, for the common sycamore, as you call it, is a tree of the same family. but i did not say we could make any use of these winged seeds. can you think of nothing else that belongs to every tree?' the sugar-tree. shall be able to draw as much from ours as will supply us until spring comes round again.' "' but, mamma,' broke in the inquisitive harry, 'when and how shall we get the sap?' "' i suppose, harry, you wish for separate answers to these two questions which you have put so closely together. well, then—our best time to draw it will be after the very first frost which makes its appear- ance. it has been found that the sap runs best when the nights are clear and cold, and the days dry and warm. "' the manner of extracting the sap, and the pro- cess of making the sugar, are both very simple. in the first place, we must make a great many little troughs—one for every tree we intend to tap. these are used to supply the place of vessels, which of course we have not got. the fanners of the united states, who make maple-sugar, also use these troughs—as they will often have several hundred trees running at the same time, and it would be rather expensive for a backwoodsman to supply himself with so many vessels from either the potter, the tinman, or the cooper. but the troughs, which are easily made, answer the purpose just as well; and cudjo here is able to make them for us. the sugar-tree. "' after the troughs nothing more is needed, except a few joints of the cane which grows all around us. an auger-hole must be bored in each of the trees, about three feet from the ground. into each of these holes a single tube of cane must be inserted, simply to form a spout that may con- duct the running sap into the troughs below. we shall then have nothing farther to do, but wait while the sap gathers in the troughs, collect it into our kettle, and boil it over the fire in the same manner as we did the salt. "' now, master harry,' concluded my wife, 'be patient. hope for an early frost, and you shall have a practical illustration of all these things.' "harry had not long to wait. upon the third night after, a slight hoar-frost covered the ground, and the day following was bright and warm. this was the very time to tap the maples, and so we set about it. "cudjo had already prepared the troughs—more than twenty of them in all. these he made in the usual manner. he cut the trunks of several tulip-trees—those that were about twelve inches in diameter—into logs of three feet each. these logs he split into two equal parts, and hollowed out the the sugar-tree. split sides with his chisel and mallet—thus forming a rude vessel, but quite good enough for the purpose of holding the sap. the cane tubes were also ready; and proceeding to the trees—all of us together—we bored a hole in each with our auger, fitted in the cane joints, and propped the troughs underneath. in a short time the crystal liquid began to drip from the end of the spouts, and then it ran faster and faster, until a small clear stream fell into the troughs. the first that issued forth we caught in our cups, as the sugar-water is most delicious to drink; and it seemed as if our little people, particularly mary and luisa, would never say ' enough.' harry, too, was as fond of it as they; and was heard to declare that the sugar- maple was the finest tree of the forest, and quite a match for either bread-fruits, oranges, or cocoa-palms. we had brought the large kettle, and a fire was soon kindled, and a crane erected—just as we had done when making our salt. in a few hours the kettle was filled with sap, and boiling over the fire. "each of us had now our separate duty to perform. cudjo, with his bucket, went from tree to tree, col- lecting the sap as it gathered in the troughs, while mary and i kept up the fire, and looked to the ladling. when a kettle of the water was sufficiently the sugah-thee. boiled down, it was necessary to pour it out into small vessels, that the sugar might crystallize by cooling. for this purpose we used all our plates, dishes, and cups. as soon as it cooled it became hard as a brick, and of a very dark colour. it was then removed from the small vessels, and a fresh quantity poured into them. that part of the sap which would not crystal- lize was carefully strained from the vessels, and became molasses; and these, let me tell you, are much finer than the molasses that are made from the sugar-cane—much richer in colour, and pleasanter to the palate. "frank and harry had their part to perform— which was to walk about, rifle in hand, and guard the troughs. this was an important matter, for it is a sin- gular fact that wolves, raccoons, badgers, opossums, and, in short, every animal wild or tame, will drink the sap of the sugar-maple, and are so fond of it that they will risk their lives to get at it. as the trees we had opened stood at a considerable dis- tance from each other, our two little sentries were kept constantly relieving one another upon their rounds. "the sap continued to run for several days; and, of course, we were kept busy during all that time. the ugar-tree. had it been in the spring-time, we should have been employed for weeks at it, as it then runs longer and more freely. we were favoured with a smart frost every night, which was a fortunate circumstance, as the water did not gather during the cold hours of the night—otherwise we should have found it impossible to guard the wild animals from our troughs. "all these nights we slept by the fire, where we had made a regular camp, as is usual in the backwoods of america. we only went to the house when it was necessary to get some article that was needed. we had put up a little tent, made out of our old wagon- tilt, to cover us; and the place we called by the name which is in use among the backwoods farmers—that is to say, a ' sugar camp.' we found this out-of-door life very exciting and agreeable, camping thus in the thick shady woods with the great majestic trees towering around us—listening at times to the light breeze, as it rustled their golden leaves—or lulled into a pleasing tranquillity by the songs of a thousand birds. at night, however, the music was not so sweet to our ears. then we heard the barking of wolves, the mournful 'coo-whoo-a' of the great horned owl, and the still more terrifying scream of the cougar. but we kept up a crackling, blazing fire all the night, the storehouse of sugar-maples. p. tnt h&*> yorc public library a tok. l jox t jldbn youndatiojf* the stump-tree and the bread-pine. chapter xxvi. the stump-tree and the bread-pine. "that evening, as we sat around the supper table, my wife announced that the last grain of our coffee was in the pot. this was sad news to all of us. of the little luxuries, that we had brought with us from st. louis, our coffee had held out longest; and a cup of this aromatic beverage had often cheered us during our toilsome journey across the prairie desert. often, too, since our arrival in the valley, had it given a relish to our homely meal. "'well, then,' said i, by way of reply to the an- nouncement, ' we must learn to do without it. we have now the materials for making soup; what care we for coffee? how many poor people would be glad to be surrounded with luxuries, as we are! here we have venison of different kinds; we can have beavers' tails whenever we want them. there are fish, too, the stump-tree and the bread-pine. in the lake and stream; there are hares and squirrels, which we shall trap in abundance, by-and-by; and, in addition to all, we shall dine often upon ruffed grouse and roast turkey. i wonder, with all these luxuries around us who is not content.' "'but, papa,' said harry, taking up the discourse, 'in virginia i have often seen our black folks make coffee out of indian corn. it is not bad, i assure you. i have drunk it there, and thought it very good. have not you, cudjo?' "'dat berry coffee dis chile hab drunk, massa harry.' "' now, papa?' "'well, harry, what of it?' "' why should we not use that—the indian corn, i mean—for coffee?' "'why, harry,' said i, ' you surely do not reflect upon what you are talking about. we have a far worse want than coffee, and that is this very indian corn to make bread of. could i only get a supply of that, i should think very little about coffee or any other beverage. unfortunately there is not a grain of corn within many an hundred miles of where we are now sitting.' "' but there is, papa; i know where there is at the stump-tree and the bread-pine. least a quart of it; and within less than an hundred yards of us, too.' "'come,' said i, 'my boy, you have mistaken some useless seed for corn. no corn grows in this valley, i am certain.' "' it did not grow in this valley. it has travelled all the way from st. louis along with us. it is now in the wagon.' "' what! corn in the wagon?' i exclaimed, start- ing up with such vehemence as to frighten my chil- dren. 'are you sure of that, harry?' "' i saw it this very morning in one of the old ■ hags,' replied he. "' come!' cried i; 'get a torch, cudjo. to the ■wagon!—to the wagon!' "in a short time we had reached the wagon, which stood close to the door. with a beating heart i climbed into it. there was an old worn-out huffalo robe, with the harness of the ox lying upon the bottom. i flung these aside, and underneath i saw a coarse gunny-bag, such as are used in the western states for holding indian corn. i knew that it was one of those we had brought with us from st. louis, containing corn for our horse and oxen; hut i was under the impression lhat i had emptied the stumf-tree and the bread-pine. out the last of it long before. i took the bag up, and, to my inexpressible delight, found that it still contained a small quantity of the precious grain; besides, there was still more of it, that had been spilled from time to time, and had got into the cor- ners and cracks of the wagon. these we collected carefully and put with the rest—not leaving a single grain that we did not scrape out from the cracks. then carrying my bag into the house, i turned out its contents upon the table. to our great joy there was, as harry had affirmed, nearly a quart of the golden grain! "' now,' said i, ' we shall have bread!' "this was a glad sight to my wife. during the preceding days we had frequently talked upon this subject—the want of bread—which is one of our first necessities. we lived in hope that we should find some species of cereal in the valley that would supply us with a substitute for bread; but up to that time nothing of the kind had appeared. we had gathered the mast from the beech-tree and roasted it. we had collected quantities of locust-pods and acorns. we had also eaten the pulpy fruit of the pawpaw; but all these together we found to be but poor apologies for real bread. this, then, was a the stump-tree and the bread-pine. discovery of greater importance to us than either the salt or the sugar. i "the winter, in the latitude of our valley, would he a short one. we could then plant the corn—there was enough of it to plant a whole acre. it would come to maturity in six or eight weeks; and we knew that in such a climate we could easily raise two crops in the year—so that before the next winter came round we should have enough and to spare. "while we stood by the table talking over these pleasant prospects, one of the boys—frank it was— suddenly shouted out, ' wheat! wheat!' "i looked down to ascertain what he meant. he had been turning over the yellow seeds of the maize, and, among them, had discovered several grains of wheat. no doubt there had been wheat in the bag before the corn had been put into it, and this was soon confirmed, as, on carefully searching the bag, we found several of the precious pickles still clinging between the seams. after separating the one species from the other with great carefulness—for we did not wish to lose a single seed—we found that our grains of wheat counted exactly one hundred! this, to be sure, was a small quantity to go a farming with, but we remembered the old saying, 'great oaks grow e the stump-tree and the bhead-pine. from little acorns,' and we knew the importance of these small grey seeds. in a couple of years we should have large crops of wheat. "'you see,' said i, addressing my little family, 'how kind providence has heen to us. here, in the middle of the desert, has he furnished us with all the necessaries of life; and now, with a little patience, we may promise ourselves many of its luxuries—for what can mamma not make out of flour and sugar?' "' oh, everything!' cried frank, who had grown enthusiastic at the prospect of farming, for he was fond of agricultural pursuits; 'we can have venison- pasties with our flour.' "' and fruit-pies,' added harry; 'there are plenty of fruits. i have found wild plums, and cherries, and mulberries as long as my finger, and whortle-berries, too. what delicious puddings we can make!' "'yes,' said i; 'now shall we care for coffee?' "'no, no !' cried frank and harry in a breath. "' then you shall have it,' said their mother, with a smile of peculiar meaning. "'what! mother?' exclaimed harry, 'another tree?' "' yes, indeed, another.' the stump-tree and the bread-pine. "' not a coffee-plant?' "'no; but a coffee-tree.' "'a coffee-tree ! why i thought, mamma, that they never grew, except in the hottest parts of the tropics.' "' that is true enough of the small tree or shrub which produces the coffee you have been accustomed to drink; but not far from us there is a very large tree, whose seed will give us a very palatable substi- tute. here is a specimen of it.' "so saying, she threw down upon the table a large brown pod—of at least twelve inches in length by two in breadth—exactly the shape of a crescent or young moon. it reminded us of the pods of the locust, though differing considerably in shape. like them, too, when opened—which was forthwith done —it was seen to contain a pulpy substance, in which several large grey-coloured seeds were imbedded. these seeds, she informed us, when parched, ground, and boiled—after the manner of the true coffee— would afford us a beverage nearly as good and quite as wholesome. "' the tree,' said she, 'from which i have plucked this pod, grows in most parts of america. you may- have observed it here?' "' i have,' interrupted harry. 'now that mamma the stump-tree and the bread-pine. has shown us the use of the maples, i have heen looking particularly at all the trees; since i find that some of them that appeared scarce worthy of notice, may after all be very interesting.' "' i have observed the tree,' added frank, who was something of a botanist as well as his mother; 'i noticed that its bark is very rough, dropping off here and there in large curling scales. the branches, too, are very odd-looking; they have blunt, stumpy ends, that give the tree a clumsy appearance. is it not so, mamma?' "' precisely as you say. hence its name of ' chi- cot' among the canadian french, and 'stump-tree' in the united states. its botanical name is gym- nocladus, which means, 'with naked branches;' for during the winter, as you shall find, it will present a very naked appearance. it is also known as the 'kentucky coffee-tree,' because the early pioneers and settlers of that country, when they were unable to obtain the true coffee, made use of its seeds, as we intend doing.' "' oh!' cried harry; 'only think of it—sugar, and coffee, and salt, and plenty of meat, and roast turkey—everything but bread. if we only had bread! would our corn not grow if we planted it now, papa?' the stdmp-tree and the bread-pine. "' no; the frost would kill the young plants. we must have patience until spring.' "' it is a long time till spring,' said harry, with rather a discontented air; 'and then we must wait much longer while the corn is growing. it is a very long time to wait.' "' come, master hal,' rejoined his mother, 'i fear you are one of those who cannot be satisfied, no matter how many blessings are heaped upon them. remember how many are worse off than yourself— how many are without bread, even where it is plen- tiest. no doubt, at this moment many a hungry boy in the streets of wealthy london is standing by the baker's window, and gazing at the crisp loaves, with, no more chance to eat one of them than you have. he is worse off than you. you have other food— plenty of it—he has none; and, moreover, his hunger is rendered more acute and painful by the sight of the tempting food—separated from his hand only by a pane of glass. poor boy! that pane of glass is to him a wall of adamant. think upon this, my son, and learn to be contented.' "' indeed, i am so, mamma,' replied harry, with a look of contrition. 'i did not mean to complain the stump-tree and the bread-pine. i was only thinking how nice it would be to have bread, now that we have got both sugar and coffee.' "' ah! now, my good harry,' said his mother, 'since i find you in the proper spirit, i think i must tell you about another curious and useful tree, of which, perhaps, you have not heard.' "' a bread-fruit now, i'm sure? no, it cannot be that; for i have heard of the bread-fruit.' "' still, it might very appropriately be called a bread-fruit, since, during the long winter months, it furnishes bread to many tribes of indians; indeed, not bread alone, but subsistence—as it is the only food these improvident people have.' '"iam sure i have never heard of that tree.' "' well, i imagine not, as it is not long since it was discovered and described by botanists; and even now it is but imperfectly known to them. it is a pine.' "' what! a pine with fruit?' "' did you ever see a pine without it—that is, in the proper season?' "' then you call those cone-shaped things fruit?' "' certainly; what else should they be?' "' oh! i thought those were the seed.' the stump-tree and the bread-pine. pleasant to the taste, and wholesome as an article of food.' "' what pines, mamma?' "' several species are known. several new ones have been discovered of late years, and in this very desert. perhaps in no part of the world is found a greater variety of these valuable trees, than in the mountainous countries which border upon and he within the great american desert. there is one species in california called 'colorado' by the span- iards—which means red, because their wood, when sawed up, is of a reddish colour. trees of this kind are the largest in the world; they are often over feet in height! only think of a tree feet high, when the tallest we saw in the mississippi valley was not much over half that. yet there are whole forests of these upon the mountains of the sierra nevada. there is another species almost as large on these same mountains. it has been called by botanists pinus lambertiana. it is more remark- able, however, for the size of its cones, which are of the enormous length of eighteen inches—a foot and a half! fancy how singular a sight it must be— one of these gigantic trees with cones hanging from its branches larger than sugar-loaves!' the tump-tree and the bread-pine. "' oh, beautiful indeed!' exclaimed frank and harry at the same time. "' but, mamma,' added frank, 'are these the sort that are eaten by the indians?' "' their seeds are also fit to eat, and in times of great distress the indians and others resort to them for food; but it is not of them i intended to speak. it is of another kind very distinct from either, and yet growing in the same region. it is a small tree, rarely seen of more than thirty or forty feet in height, and with leaves or needles of a much lighter green than the generality of pines. its cones are not larger than those of the common sort; but the seed or kernel is oily like the american walnut, and quite as agreeable in flavour. they cannot be otherwise than nutritious, since, as i have said, they form the whole subsistence of many people for months in the year. they can be eaten raw; but the indians usually roast them. when roasted or parched, and then ground in a mill, or broken in a mortar, they make a species of meal, which, though coarse in ap- pearance, can be baked into sweet and wholesome bread. this tree is called by the mexicans ' pifion,' and also by travellers the 'nut-pine.' the only botanist who has fairly described it has given it the the stump-tree and the bread-pine. name of pinus monophyllus. perhaps as good a name as any, and certainly the most appropriate — i mean for its popular name—would be the 'bread- pine.'' "' but, mamma, does this tree grow in our valley? we have not seen it.' "' not in the valley, i think; but i have hopes that we may find it on the mountain. the day we came around the latter, i thought i saw a strange species of pine growing up in the ravines. it might be this very one; and i am the more inclined to think so, as i have heard that it grows on the rocky mountains—within the latitudes of new mexico— and also on all the sierras that lie between them and the pacific. i see no reason why we should not find it upon our mountain, which is, no doubt, a sort of outlying peak of the rocky mountains themselves.' "' oh ! then,' said harry, 'shall we not go up to the mountain, and see about it? an excursion to the mountain would be so very pleasant. don't you think so, papa?' "' i do, indeed,' i replied; 'and as soon as we can make a cart for pompo, so as to be able to take mamma and the children along with us, we shall go there.' the snow line. chapter xxvii. the snow line. "in three days the cart was finished. we had no difficulty in constructing one, as the principal part— that is, the wheels—was already made. we had two pair of them, of course, in our old wagon; and the larger ones, which happened to be in very good order, served our purpose exactly. cudjo soon at- tached a body and shafts to them, and pompo's har- ness was put into thorough repair. "we had not long to wait for a fine day. every day was fine in the clear, pure climate of our valley; so that, as soon as the cart was ready, we had a day to our liking. we set out shortly after sunrise, with our hearts full of anticipated pleasure. of course we all went—mary, the children, cudjo, pompo, dogs, and all. the house was again left to take care of itself. the snow line. ^ "mary and the two little ones rode in the cart, upon a soft seat made of palmetto leaves and spanish moss. pompo, who appeared to partake of the general happiness, whisked the vehicle along as if there had heen nobody in it, and he was only draw ing it for his own amusement. cudjo cracked his great wagon-whip, and every now and then uttered a loud ' wo-ha ;' while castor and pollux gallopped gaily from side to side, running their noses into every bush that grew along the path. "we soon made our way through the valley, and climbed up to the plain. we looked once more upon the desert that stretched away on all sides; but its dreary aspect no longer filled us with fear. we did not regard it now, and the sight inspired us with feelings of curiosity and novelty rather than of terror. away to the southward the sun was glancing upon the broad expanse of white sand; and several tall objects, like vast dun-coloured towers, were moving over the plain. they were whirlwinds carrying the dust upward to the blue sky, and spinning it from point to point. sometimes one glided away alone, until it was lost on the distant horizon. here two of them were moving in the same direction, keeping a regular distance from each other, and seemingly run- the snow line. ning a race. there several came together; and, after^ a short gusty contest, the whole set would break up into shapeless masses of yellowish clouds, and then float onward with the wind, and downward to the earth again. it was an interesting sight to view those huge pillars towering up to the heavens, and whirling like unearthly objects over the wide plain. it was indeed an interesting sight, and we remained for many minutes observing their motions. "at length we turned our faces toward the moun- tain, and continued our journey along the edge of the cliffs. the 'high peak glistened before us, and the sun's rays falling upon it caused it to appear of a beautiful colour—a mixture of gold and red, as though a shower of roses had fallen upon the snow! we noticed that there was now more snow upon the mountain than when we had first seen it, and that it came farther down its sides. this attracted the attention of all of us; and frank at once called for an explanation, which his mother volunteered to give, for she very well understood the phenomenon. "' in the first place,' said she, 'as you ascend upward in the atmosphere, it becomes thinner and colder. beyond a certain point it is so cold, that neither men nor any other animals can exist. this the snow line. can be proved in several ways; and the experience of those who have climbed mountains, only three miles high, confirms it. some of these adventurous men have been nearly frozen to death. this is a fact, then, in regard to the atmosphere over all parts of the earth; but we may also observe, that near the equator you may go higher without reaching this extreme cold, than in the countries which lie nearer to the poles. another fact, which you will easily believe, is, that in summer you can climb higher before you reach the cold region than in winter. bear these facts in mind. now, then, if it be so cold at a certain height that men would be frozen to death, of course at that height snow will not melt. what is the natural inference? why—that mountains whose tops pierce up into this cold region will most certainly be covered with perpetual snow. it is not likely that anything but snow ever falls upon their summits,—for when it rains upon the plains around them, it is snowing upon the high peaks above. in- deed, it is probable that most of the rain which de- scends upon the earth has been crystals of snow when it commenced its descent; and, afterwards melting in the lower and warmer regions of the atmosphere, takes the shape of water globules, and thus falls to the snow line. m the ground. these globules, no doubt, are very small when they first emerge from the snow region; but, as they pass slowly downward through clouds of vapour, they gather together and attract others (by a law which i have not time to explain); and, descend- ing faster and faster, at length plash down to the earth in large drops. whenever it rains, then, at any particular place, you may be almost certain that it is snowing at the same time over that place—only at a point in the atmosphere far above it. i have been convinced of this fact, by observing that imme- diately after every occasion when it has rained in the valley, there appeared a greater quantity of snow upon the mountain. had the mountain not been there, this snow would have continued on, and be- come rain, like that which fell upon the plains, and into the valley.' "' then, mamma,' interrupted frank,' this moun- tain must be of great height, since the snow lies upon it all the year.' "' does that follow?' "' i think so. you said the snow did not melt because it was cold high up.' "' but suppose you were in a country near the north pole, where snow lies all the year at the very the snow line. sea-side, and consequently at the sea-level, would it then prove a mountain to be very high?' "' oh! i see — i see now. the perpetual snow upon a mountain only shows it to be of great height when the mountain happens to be in warm latitudes.' "' precisely so. in very warm countries, such as those within the tropics, when you see the snow-cap upon a mountain, you may infer that it is a very high one—at least over two miles in height; and when there is much snow upon it—that is, when the snow reaches far down its sides—it proves the mountain to be still higher,—three miles or more above the level of the ocean.' "' our mountain, then, must be a high one, since it is in a warm latitude, and snow lies all the year upon it.' "' it is a high one, comparatively speaking; but you will remember, when we first saw it, there was only a small patch of snow upon its top, and probably in very hot summers that disappears altogether; so that it is not so high as many others upon this con- tinent. taking our latitude into calculation, and the quantity of snow which lies upon this mountain, i should say it was about , feet.' "' oh! so much as that! it does not seem half u the snow line. so high. i have seen mountains that appeared to me to be quite as high as it, and yet it was said they did not measure the half of , feet.' "' that arises from the fact that you are not viewing this one from the sea-level, as you did them. the plain upon which it stands, and from which we view it, is of itself elevated nearly half as much. you must remember that we are upon one of the high tables of the american continent.' "here, for a minute or so, the conversation stop- ped; and we travelled on in silence, all of us with our eyes fixed on the white and roseate peak that glittered before us, leading our eyes far up into the heavens. "frank again resumed the discourse, which had been broken off by our admiration of this beautiful object. "' is it not curious,' said he, 'that the snow should lie so regularly, coming down on all sides to the same height, and ending just like the cape of a coat or the hem of a nightcap? it seems to be a straight fine all around the mountain.' "' that line,' rejoined his mother, ' is, as you say, a curious phenomenon, and caused by the laws of heat and cold, which we have just been explaining. the snow line. it is called the 'snow-line,' and a good deal of speculation has arisen among cosmographers about the elevation of this line. of course, on mountains within the tropics this line will be at a great height above the level of the sea. as you advance north- ward or southward to the poles, it will be found lower and lower, until within the frigid zones it may be said to cease altogether—for there, as we have said, snow covers the whole earth, and there can be no ' snow-line.' "' from this, one would suppose that an exact scale might be formed, giving the elevation of the snow-line for all latitudes. but that could not be done. observation has shown that it not only differs on mountains that lie in the same latitude, but that on the same mountain it is often higher on one side than the other—particularly on those of great extent, as the himmalehs of india. this is all quite natural, and easily accounted for. the position of mountains to one another, and their proximity or great distance from the sea, will give them a colder or warmer atmosphere, independent of latitude. moreover, the same mountain may have a warmer climate on one side than the other; and of course the snow line will be higher on that side which is the a tfie sxow line. warmer, in consequence of the greater melting of the snow. this line, too, varies in summer and winter for a like reason—as we see here upon our own mountain, where it has already descended several feet since the weather has hecome colder. this, you will acknowledge, is all very plain; and you will see, too, that nature, although apparently capricious in many of her operations, acts most regu- larly in this one, as perhaps in all others.' "' but, mamma,' inquired harry, 'can we not get to the top of the mountain? i should like to have some snow to make snow-balls, and pelt frank with them.' "' it would be a very difficult task, master hal; and more than either you or i could get through with. i think frank will escape being snow-balled this time.' "' but people have climbed to the top of the himmaleh mountains; and they are far higher than this, i am sure.' "' never,' interrupted frank; 'no one has ever climbed the himmalehs. have they, mamma?' "' no mortal has ever been so high as the sum- mits of those great mountains, which are more than five miles above the level of the ocean. even could the snow line. they be climbed, it is not likely that any animal could live at their top. these inaccessible things seem to have been designed by the creator to afford us objects for sublime contemplation—objects far above the reach of mortal man, and that can never be rendered common by his contact. do they not seem so?' "we had now reached the foot of the mountain, and halting near the entrance of the ravine, we loosed pompo from his cart, and rested ourselves on the banks of the little stream. after a while we commenced ascending up into the defile in search of the pinons. as we advanced, mary pointed out the trees which she had noticed on a former occasion. they appeared of a light green colour, much lighter than others that grew near them. we made towards one which stood apart, and was most accessible to us. this we hoped might prove to be the bread pine-tree; and we approached it with feelings of anxiety and expectation. "in a short time we were under its branches, and if we had had no other test than what we saw there, combined with the delicious fragrance of the tree, we could have told that it could be no other than the pifion. the ground was covered with cones, each of the snow line. them about an inch and a half in length; but on examining them, we found them all broken open and the seed extracted. some animal had been there before us, and relished their contents—thus affording a proof that they were good to eat. there were still many of the cones hanging on the tree; and it was not long until we had split some of them open and tasted their ripe seeds. "' it is it!' cried my wife, clapping her hands with delight. 'it is the nut-pine! this will serve for bread until we can grow our wheat and corn. come, let us gather them,' added she, pointing to a large grove of the same trees that grew at a short distance; and we all hurried to the grove and com- menced shaking down the cones and gathering them into heaps. "we had soon collected as many as we wanted, and in the evening we returned to the valley, with our little cart half-full of pine-nuts. on reaching home, these were parched and pounded into a sort of coarse meal; and that night, for the first time during many weeks, we had cakes to our supper. the menagerie, aviary, etc. chapter xxviii. the menagerie, aviary, and botanic garden. "we were busy of course every day, as we had plenty of work to do. we laid a floor in our cabin, and fenced a couple of fields—one to plant our corn in, and the other to keep pompo from straying off into the woods, and meeting with some animal that might feel inclined to devour him. we also suc- ceeded in killing several red deer and a couple of elk, which we stored up for our winter provision. we did not find the black-tails very palatable, and most of their flesh went to feed castor and pollux. "cudjo was the busiest of all of us. he made several household utensils which proved of great ser- vice to us. he also constructed for himself a wooden plough, which would serve every purpose—as there was a considerable portion of the ground that was without the menagerie, aviary, turf, and could be easily turned. this part had been covered with beautiful flowers, such as sun- flowers, red and orange-coloured poppies, and ascle- pias. it was almost a pity to plough them up. "with an eye to the future scarcity of our am- munition, we had begun to practise hunting with a weapon which would answer all our purposes almost as well as the rifle—still keeping the latter of course for great occasions. we had found some of the bois d'arc, or' osage orange,' as it is called, growing in the valley. this is the famous bow-wood of the indians; and taking a hint from these children of nature, we made three bows, stringing them—as the indians do —with the sinews of the deer. for arrows, we had the straight cane reeds; and .cudjo made us a set of barbs out of iron spikes that we had taken from the wagon. with daily practising at a mark, before the winter was over, we were all three able to use our new weapons to some purpose; and harry, to his mother's great delight, could bring down a squirrel from the top of the highest tree in the valley. as a marksman, both with the bow and rifle, he was quite superior to frank, who, instead of feeling jealous, seemed rather to be proud of the skill of his brother. harry, during all the winter, kept our the menagerie, aviary, all the tubers we could fall in with, and kept them for seed. "out of the pods of the honey-locust, we brewed a very agreeable sort of beer; but we were able to ektract a still more generous beverage from the wild or fox-grapes that grew in all parts of the valley. while travelling through france, i had learnt how the wine was made; and our vintage succeeded to perfection. on the winter nights, as we sat around our cheerful log-fire, mary was accustomed to deal out to us a measure a-piece of the exhilarating drink. it was only, however, after a hard day's work or hunting, that we were allowed to draw upon this precious store. "about this time, a new idea entered into my mind, which i communicated to the others, and with which they all fully agreed. it was this :—to capture as many of the wild animals as we could, and endeavour to domesticate them to our uses. i was prompted to this purpose by various considera- tions. . first, because i saw, although there were several kinds of deer in the valley, there were but few of each kind; and it was not likely that for many years they had been upon the increase. nature had so disposed it, that these creatures had and botanic garden. been regularly thinned off every year by the numerous beasts of prey that prowled through the valley. now, an additional enemy was added to the number of their destroyers; and i foresaw that, unless some precaution should be taken, the deer would soon become so scarce and wild, that we should find it difficult to obtain enough for our uses. could we only kill off the fierce beasts—such as panthers, and wolves, and wolverenes—that preyed upon them, then the whole valley would become our deer-park, and the deer would soon increase to any number we wanted. this, however, we could not do; and, in fact, the beasts of prey were as likely to master us as we them—for none of us were safe in venturing into the thick woods alone; and whenever the boys made a short excursion from the glade, their mother was always in a state of anxiety until they returned. in fact, every hunt we made was attended with con- siderable danger, as we always fell in with the tracks of wolves, panthers, and even bears; and we frequently saw these animals skulking through the underwood. we knew that in time our powder must run out, and then our rifles would be useless to us. our bows and arrows would then avail us but little against such thick-hided monsters as these. we only hoped the menagerie, aviary, that when we became better acquainted with the habits of these carnivorous creatures, we should be enabled to destroy them in traps, and thus thin them off at our leisure, and without wasting our ammunition. this, of course, would constitute a branch of our employment; and, besides being a work of utility, would furnish us with an excite- ment not the less agreeable because it was hazardous. could we, therefore, collect a few of the more useful animals into an enclosed park, they would soon propagate and increase, and then the trouble as well as danger which we experienced in hunt- ing them would be at an end. we knew that our maize-corn, yielding two crops in the year, would enable us to supply them abundantly with food. "there was still another consideration which had its weight in these plans. i was very fond of the study of natural history—particularly that branch of it re- lating to quadrupeds — and i foresaw the pleasure of observing the habits of these wild creatures. we should not, therefore, confine ourselves to making 'pets' of those animals that might merely serve us for food. we should embrace in our collection all that we could subject to our rule, whether gentle or and botanic garden. fierce. in fact, it was our intention to establish a regular ' menagerie of the desert.' "the main object of our industry and prospec- tive wealth—that is, the collection of the beaver fur— would not in any way interfere with these plans. the beavers, in short, would give us very little trouble — as the drying and preserving the skins of those we should trap annually would only occupy us a small portion of the year. "harry entered with more spirit into my designs than any of the others; for harry, like myself, was fond of the quadrupeds. frank, on the other hand, was a great bird-catcher, and recommended that we should include the birds in our menagerie. to this, of course, we assented freely. mary had her own designs already shaped out; and these were, to gather all the plants and trees that might be either curious or useful, and to observe what effect cultivation would produce upon them—in short, it was her wish to form a complete 'botanical garden.' "to each, then, was given a separate department. harry and i were designated ' beast-tamers ; ' frank the 'bird-tamer;' while mary was appropriately styled the 'tree-tamer.' to cudjo was assigned a very important share of the labour. he was to en- the menagerie, aviary, etc. close the park for our deer, as well as the grounds for the botanic garden. he was also to make our traps and cages—all of which things cudjo knew how to do, and how to do them well. of course, we were to assist him, as well as each other, in carrying out our designs. "thus, our plans for the future were interesting to all of us. in our various pursuits, we should be enabled to employ all our idle time. we had no books, either to amuse or instruct us; but we knew that we should derive both instruction and amuse- ment from the study of the greatest of all books— ilie book of nature. trapping the beasts and birds. chapter xxix. trapping the beasts and birds. "harry was the first who succeeded in making a capture; and that was a pair of grey squirrels, which he had trapped at the bottom of their tree. for these a large cage was constructed, and they soon became so tame that they would take the nuts provided for them out of our hands. these, of course, were only idle pets; but they added much to our company and amusement, as we watched them in their antics around the bars of their cage, now springing from point to point, and now sitting monkey-like, and gnawing the nuts as they held them between their fore-paws. "shortly after this event, frank became the hero of the hour; and his achievement was one of consi- derable importance. for some time, he had been keeping his eye upon the wild turkeys; and for the trapping the beasts and birds. purpose of securing some of them alive, he had con- structed, not far from the house, a species of penn— which is known in america by the name of 'log- trap.' this was a very simple contrivance. it was made of split rails, such as cudjo used for his fences; and these were placed upon one another, so as to en- close a hollow square between them. they were raised ahout the height of an ordinary fence from the ground, while other rails—heavy ones—were laid over the top, close enough to prevent the turkeys, should they enter, from escaping, hut not so near each other as to darken the interior of the trap, and so render it forbidding in its appearance. the entrance was the main contrivance, although it was not an original idea with frank. it was upon a plan similar to the wire cages used for trapping rats—where the rat can easily find its way in, but has not sufficient cunning to know the road out again. precisely as the wire funnel is constructed for the rats, frank had made one of rails for his turkeys; and waited patiently until some of them should enter it. he placed various kinds of seeds and roots within the enclosure; but several days passed, and no birds were taken. "after some practice, the 'bird-catcher' became able to imitate the ' gobbling' of the old cocks so trapping the beasts and birds. exactly that at some distance off in the woods, you could not tell but that it was one of themselves. by this means, he could call the turkeys up to the ground where he himself lay concealed; but the seeds he had baited his trap with were not sufficiently enticing, and none of them would go under the rails. at length, however, he hit upon an expedient, which was sure to succeed, if anything could. he had shot one of the turkeys with his arrows; and taking it into the trap, he carefully propped it up—so that it appeared to be still alive, and busy feeding upon his bait. he then retired to some distance; and, hiding himself among the brushwood, 'gobbled' as before. three large birds soon made their appearance, coming cau- tiously through the woods. of course, like all wild turkeys, they were upon the ground—stalking along just like so many ostriches. at length, they came in sight of the penn, and seeing one of their own kind— quietly feeding, as they thought, within it—they ap- proached fearlessly, and ran around the enclosure, seeking for an entrance. frank lay watching all their movements; and his heart, at this moment, was thumping against his ribs. his anxiety did not long endure. the three great birds soon found the wide funnel; and, without hesitating, ran up it, and x trapping the beasts and birds. appeared inside the trap. frank sprang from his lurking-place; and, running forward, first shut up the entrance by filling it with stones. then climbing upon the top, he slipped through between the rails; and secured the birds by tying their legs together with a stout thong of deerskin. when he had lifted them out of the trap, he again adjusted everything— leaving the ' decoy turkey' quietly feeding as before— and shouldering his prize, he marched off in triumph. his return to the house was greeted with exclama- tions of joy; and a rail penn was immediately built for the birds, similar to the trap in which they had been caught, but, of course, without the funnel or entrance. the only regret we had was, that the three were all cocks—regular 'old gobblers.' "next day, however, frank remedied this by making a still more important capture. on return- ing to visit his trap before sunrise, he saw from a dis- tance that there was a live turkey inside, with a number of smaller birds, which in the grey light appeared like so many partridges. on getting nearer, to his surprise and delight, he found that what he had taken for partridges was a large brood of young tur- keys, and that which he had first seen was their mother. the little ones were running out and in, for they trapping the beasts and birds. we immediately hurried back to the house with them, not forgetting to take along with us the ' decoy tur- key '—which, being a fine fat fellow, and killed only the day before, served us for a very good dinner. for the turkey hen and young we built another penn, near to that where we had imprisoned the three ' old gobblers.' the one last constructed was made with more care and closer between the rails, so that the youngsters might not get out and wander off. "frank again baited his log-trap, and used for a decoy one of the gobblers, which he tied by the leg to a rail. in this way several others were caught; when the birds at length became shy, and kept away from the penn altogether. however, we had now as many as we could feed, until our corn should ripen and be gathered. "from this time every day saw new additions to our aviary. frank had procured the bark of the ilex opaca, or american holly; and this, when macerated in water, and then fermented and cleared of its fibres, made the very best of bird-lime. a large cage had been constructed out of bow-wood with the straight reeds of the cane, and divided into many compart- ments—so that birds of different species should be separated from each other. in a short time the cage trapping the beasts and birds. was seen to contain specimens of the blue-jay and red-bird, or virginia nightingale, orioles of several species, and doves of two distinct kinds. there were also several carolina paroquets; and frank had suc- ceeded in capturing a bird of a very rare kind, which, i believe, is known to the indians as the 'wakon.' it was the american bird of paradise; and, like those of the eastern world, had several long feathers grow ing from its tail, and stretching away gracefully behind it. in the cage were also finches of different varieties, and beautiful bright plumage. among others were the green bird, the redstart, and the cock of the woods; the little blue bird also, the red-winged starling, and the orange-headed troupiale—which last species migrated in large flocks into the valley. there was a number of small cages, which had been constructed for the smallest of all birds—the hum- ming-birds — and frank had caught no less than a dozen different kinds of these most beautiful crea- tures, which he daily supplied with fresh flowers. another cage, apart from all the rest, held an inmate that, so far as appearance went, you would have said had no right to be thus distinguished in having a house all to himself. he was of a sober grey colour, somewhat of the wagtail shape, with long black legs. trapping the beasts and birds. and claws of a dirty hue; and was altogether an ill- favoured bird, not any better-looking than a common house-sparrow. had you known nothing more about him than his outward appearance, you would hardly have deigned to waste a second look upon him. the moment, however, his black bill was opened, and his lead-coloured throat became expanded in a song, you forgot all about the dull hue of his plumage. you all at once forgot the bright wings of the paroquet, and the beautiful form of the oriole; the red-bird, the blue-jay, and the wakon, were alike forgotten, and you gazed upon this sweet musician with delight and admiration. as you continued to listen, you would notice that he mimicked almost every sound that occurred within hearing. when any of the others commenced to sing, he would catch the strain—as it were, from their lips—and, giving it in a far higher and bolder tone, shame them into silence. this, i need hardly tell you, was the famous mock-bird—the nightingale of america. "while frank was daily increasing his stock of winged creatures, harry was not idle among the quadrupeds. no less than five kinds of squirrels had been caught and caged. these were the grey, black, and red or fox varieties of the tree squirrel, and two trapping the beasts and birds. species of ground squirrel—one the common hackee, or chipping squirrel; while the other was a new spe cies, which we had caught on the desert plain above, among the roots of the artemisia plant. this last was a beautiful little creature, not much larger than a mouse, and striped like a little zebra. it has never —as far as i can tell—been described by naturalists; and on this account, as well as from its peculiar size and beauty, it was a general favourite with all of us, particularly with luisa and mary, in whose laps it soon learnt to sleep, like a tamed mouse. "besides the squirrels, harry's collection embraced a hare and a couple of raccoons. these last were the produce of a night-hunt or two which cudjo had made with the dogs; and although these fox-like animals were by no means useful pets, yet they gave a variety to our collection, and added to our amusement in the observation of their curious habits. the biters bit. chapter xxx. the biters bit. "our next was a fishing excursion. as i have said, cudjo had already discovered that our stream con- tained fish, and had caught several of them. they were something like salmon-trout, although differing considerably from that species in colour. neverthe- less they were very delicious eatiug, and we were all very fond of them. "we set forth in the morning, but on this occasion we left pompo and his cart behind, as we had not far to go — only a short distance down the stream, where cudjo knew a large pool in which the fish were plenty. we took with us lines, made out of the wild flax that grows in the valley, and which, mary tells us, is found in all countries that border upon the rocky mountains. our rods were long tapering canes which we had in abundance around us. for hooks we used pins bent the biters bit. "' animal!' exclaimed harry; 'i see no animal. where is it, mamma?' "' nor do i,' replied his mother; 'but i see indications of the presence of one, and a very de- structive one, too. look there!' "as mary said this, she pointed to a grove of young cotton-wood trees, from which the bark and leaves were stripped off as cleanly as if they had been gnawed by goats, or scraped with a knife. some of the trees were quite dead, while others of them were freshly peeled, and only waited for a little time to decay them. "' oh, i see what you mean now, mamma,' said harry. 'some animal has done this — but what one? the beavers cannot climb; and i am sure neither squirrels, raccoons, nor opossums, would take the bark from trees in that manner.' "' no; it was none of them. your papa can best inform you what sort of animal has been so destruc- tive to these young trees, which, you perceive, are of the beautiful cotton-wood species, the pojmlus angu- latus of botanists.' "' come, harry,' said i, 'let us first find the animal if we can.' "we all turned toward the leafless grove. we the biters bit. had not walked many steps in that direction, when the very animal we were in search of appeared on the ground before us. it was quite three feet long, thick, and broad in the back, and arched from the nose to the tail. it was of a speckled grey colour, but with the roughest coat of hair that could possibly be imagined. its head and nose were very small for the size of its body; and its short, stout legs, with their long claws, were scarcely visible under the tliick, shaggy hair. its ears were also buried under the hair; and it looked more like a round tufted mass than an animal. it was down upon the ground; and had evidently perceived our approach, as it was making off through the grass as fast as it could. that, however, was not very fast — not faster than a frog could go — for the animal in question is one of the very slowest travellers. "as soon as i caught sight of it, and saw that it was upon the ground — and not among the branches, where i had expected to find it — i turned round to secure the dogs. i was too late, for these unrea- soning animals had already seen it, and, forgetful of the lesson which the skunk had taught them, were dashing forward in full cry. i endeavoured to call them off; but, heedless of our shouts, both rushed the biters bit. adventure with the skunk, was rather shy of ap- proaching the porcupine—particularly as he had heard that this animal possesses the power of shooting his quills to some distance, and sticking them like arrows into his enemies. harry inquired if this were true. "' no,' i replied; ' it is only one of those fabulous stories which the ingenious french naturalist, buffon, so much delighted to recount. the porcupine's quills may be pulled out easily by anything which presses too rudely against them, such as the mouth of a mastiff; and this because they are very slightly attached by their roots, and have a barb upon their tops that takes hold upon any enemy that may attempt to touch them. this is the only defence the poor animal has got — as it is so slow of foot that any of its enemies can easily come up with it. but, notwithstanding its slowness, most of the fierce crea- tures find it better to leave the porcupine to himself, and his innocent occupation of 'barking' the trees. he generally proves more than a match for any of them; and, in fact, neither wolf, panther, nor wild- cat, can kill him — as there is not a spot of his body which they can touch when he prepares himself for their attack. on the other hand, he frequently kills them — only in self-defence, however, as he never the biters bit. attacks any animal, but lives altogether on his simple food, the bark and leaves of trees. the cougar is often found dead in the woods, his death occasioned by the porcupine's quills that are seen sticking in his mouth and tongue. so also the lynx has been found, as well as many dogs and wolves.' "so much of the natural history of this strange animal i related to my companions at the time; but, shortly after, an incident was witnessed by harry and myself which showed us that the porcupine, notwith- standing his bristling armour, had one enemy, at least, who could master him upon occasions. al- though it occurred some months after our fishing excursion, now that we are speaking of the porcu- pine, i shall relate it. battle of the marten and porcupine. chapter xxxi. battle of the marten and porcupine. "it was in the middle of the winter. a light snow had fallen upon the ground —just enough to enable us to follow the trail of any animal we might light upon. of course, the snow filled us with the idea of hunting; and harry and i started out upon the tracks of a brace of elk that had passed through our opening during the night. the tracks were very fresh-looking; and it was evident that the animals had passed in the morning, just before we were up. we concluded, therefore, that they had not gone far off; and we hoped soon to come up with them. "the trail led us along the side of the lake, and then up the left bank of the stream. castor and pollux were with us; but in our hunting excur- sions we usually led them in a leash, so that they ' battle of the marten and porcupine. might not frighten the game by running ahead of us. "when about half a mile from the house, we found that the elk had crossed to the right bank of the stream. we were about to follow, when, all at once, our eyes fell upon a most singular track or tracks that led off into the woods. they were the tracks of human feet—the feet of children! "so thought we at 'first sight of them; and you may fancy the surprise into which we were suddenly thrown. they were about five inches in length, and exactly such as would have been made by a bare- footed urchin of six years old. there appeared to be two sets of them, as if two children had passed, following one another on the same trail. what could it mean? after all, were there human beings in the valley besides ourselves? could these be the footprints of two young indians? all at once i thought of the diggers—the yamparicos—the root- eaters,—who are found in almost every hole and corner of the american desert. could it be possible that a family of these wretched creatures existed in the valley ?' quite possible,' thought i, when i re- flected upon their habits. living upon roots, insects, and reptiles,—burrowing in holes and caves like the battle of the marten and porcupine. wild animals around them,— a family, or more, might have been living all this time in some unex- plored corner of the valley, without our having en- countered any traces of them! was this reaey so; and were the tracks before us the footmarks of a brace of young diggers, who had been passing from point to point? "of course, our elk-hunt was given up until this mystery should be solved; and we turned off from the trail of the latter to follow that of the children. "in coming out to an open place, where the snow lay smoothly, and the foot-prints appeared well defined, i stooped down to examine them more minutely, in order to be satisfied that they were the tracks of human feet. sure enough, there were the heels, the regular widening of the foot near the toes, and the toes themselves, all plainly stamped upon the snow. here, however, arose another mystery. on counting the toes, i found that in some of the tracks there were five—as there should have been, — while in others there were only four! this led me to examine the print of the toes more carefully; and i now saw that each of them was armed with a claw, which, on account of some hairy covering, had made but a very indefinite impression y battle of the marten and porcupine. in the snow. the tracks, then, were not the footmarks of children, but those of some animal with claws. "notwithstanding that we had come to this con- clusion, we still continued to follow the trail. we were curious to see what sort of a creature had made it. perhaps it might be some animal unknown to naturalists,—some new species; and we might one day have the merit of being the first to describe it. we had not far to go: a hundred yards, or so, brought us in sight of a grove of young cotton-woods: and these we saw at a glance were 'barked' by a porcupine. the whole mystery was cleared up,—we had been following in the trail of this animal. "i now remembered that the porcupine was one of the plantigrade family, with five toes on his hind feet, and only four on the fore ones. the tracks were undoubtedly his. "my companion and i were somewhat chagrined at being thus drawn away from our hunt by such an insignificant object; and we vowed to take vengeance upon the porcupine as soon as we should set our eyes upon him. we were not long in doing this,— for as we stole quietly forward, we caught sight of a shaggy animal moving among the branches of a tree about fifty yards ahead of us. it was he, of course. j , . :. i'm i iv ill u oi ■ •■■■»: ,i* . , ion !i!''':■.! ii!: ■■ ■.' s '! ■ . '." .■»'- llv. tuiv \ in;;..-. . ■■!■ ti-i. i a i i, i ■!, '! ■ l. ■, h'. „■ .■ ,i j a !i'■'!; in <■ <":!-■ t!_ !■ \ v ! :'u- '. ': v,.i;j. ■•: ii. i !.i■:!■ ly ' ]■■i.■' .- 'l ■ "ilv ■ i . ■ . s^i .■■ i/ lb" -:: ':ii foit- 'ti'f!. ai'..-| ii .'cm :. ;. :'!■. ■ , ...i >, t'r ml :■■ ■' batti,e of the maeten and porcupine. at the same moment, however, another animal 'hove in sight,' in appearance as different from the porcupine as a bull from a blue-bottle. "this creature—tail and all—was not less than a yard and a quarter in length, and yet its body was not thicker than the upper part of a man's arm. its head was broad and somewhat flattened, with short, erect ears, and pointed nose. it was bearded like a cat, although the face had more of the dog in its ex- pression. its legs were short and strong; and both legs and body denoted tbe possession of agility and strength. it was of a reddish brown colour, with a white mark on the breast, and darker along the back and on the legs, feet, nose, and tail. its whole ap- pearance reminded one of a gigantic weasel—which in fact it was—the great marten of america, gene- rally, though improperly, called the ' fisher.' when we first saw it, it was crouching along a high log, that ran directly toward the tree, upon which was the porcupine. its eyes were fixed intently upon the latter; and it was evidently meditating an attack. we stopped to watch it. "the porcupine had not yet perceived his enemy, as he was busily engaged in splitting the bark from the cotton-wood. the marten, after reconnoitring battle of the marten and porcupine. him for some moments, sprang off from the log, and came running towards the tree. the other now saw him, and at the same instant uttered a sort of shrill, querulous cry, and appeared to be greatly affrighted. to our astonishment, however, instead of remaining where it was, it suddenly dropped to the ground almost at the very nose of its adversary! i could not at first understand the policy of this strange tactic on the part of the porcupine, but a moment's reflection convinced me it was sound policy. the marten would have been as much at home on the tree as himself; and had he remained among the branches —which were slender ones—his throat and the under part of his body—both of which are soft and without quills—would have been exposed to the teeth of his adversary. this, then, was why he had let himself down so unexpectedly; and we noticed that the in- stant he touched the ground, he rolled himself into a round clew, presenting on all sides the formidable chevaux-de frise of his quills. "the marten now ran around him, doubling his long vermiform body with great activity—at intervals showing his teeth, erecting his back, and snarling like a cat. we expected every moment to see him spfing forward upon his victim; but he did not do battle of the marten and porcupine. » so. he evidently understood the peril of such an act; and appeared for a moment puzzled as to how he should proceed. all this while, the porcupine lay quiet—except the tail. this was, in fact, the only 'feature' of the animal that could he seen, as the head and feet were completely hidden under the body. the tail, however, was kept constantly in motion—jerked from side to side, and flirted occa sionally upwards. "what would the marten do? there was not an inch of the other's body that was not defended by the sharp and barbed quills—not a spot where he could insert the tip of his nose. would he abandon the contest? so thought we, for a while; but we were soon convinced of our error. "after running around several times, as we have described, he at length posted himself near the hind- quarters of the porcupine, and with his nose a few inches from the tail of the latter. in this position he stood for some moments, apparently watching the tail, which still continued to oscillate rapidly. he stood in perfect silence, and without making a movement. "the porcupine, not being able to see him, and perhaps thinking that he was gone, now waved his tail battle of the marten and porcupine. • more slowly; and then suffered it to drop motion- less. "this was what the other was waiting for; and, the next moment, he had seized the tail in his teeth. we saw that he held it by the tip, where it is desti- tute of the thorny spines. "what would he do next? was he going to bite off the end of the porcupine's tail? no such thing. he had a different game from that to play—as we soon witnessed. "the moment he caught the tail, the porcu- pine uttered its querulous cries; but the marten,- heeding not these, commenced walking backward, dragging the other after him. where was he drag- ging it to? we soon saw. he was pulling it to a tree, close by, with low branches that forked out near the ground. but for what purpose ? thought we. we wondered as we watched. "the porcupine could offer no resistance. its feet gave way, and slipped along the snowy ground; for the marten was evidently the much stronger animal. "in a short time, the latter had reached the tree, dragging the other after him to its foot. he now commenced ascending, still holding the porcu- pine's tail in his teeth, and taking precious care not battle of the marten and porcupine. to brush too closely to the quills. 'surely,' thought we, 'he cannot climb up, carrying a body almost as big as himself in that manner!' it was not his in- tention to climb up—only to one of the lowermost branches—and the next moment he had reached it, stretching his long body out on the limb, and clutch- ing it firmly with his cat-like claws. he still held fast hold of the porcupine's tail, which animal was now lifted into such a position, that only its fore- quarters rested on the ground, and it appeared to stand upon its head—all the while uttering its pitiful cries. "for the life of us, we could not guess what the marten meant by all this manoeuvring. he knew well enough, as he gave proof the moment after. when he had got the other as it were on a balance, he suddenly sprang back to the ground, in such a direction that the impetus of his leap jerked the por- cupine upon its back. before the clumsy creature was able to turn over and 'clew' itself, the active weasel had pounced upon its belly, and buried his claws in the soft flesh, while, at the same time, his teeth were made fast in the throat! "in vain the porcupine struggled. the other rode him with such agility, that he was unable to get battle of the marten and porcupine. right side up again; and in a few moments the struggle would have ended,' by the porcupine's throat being cut; but we saw that it was time for us to in- terfere; and, slipping castor and pollux from the leash, we ran forward. "the dogs soon drove the marten from his victim, but he did not run from them. on the contrary, he turned round upon them,, keeping them at bay with his sharp teeth and fierce snarling. in truth, they would have had a very tough job of it, had we not been near; but, on seeing us approach, the animal took to a tree, running up it like a squirrel. a rifle bullet soon brought him down again; and his long body lay stretched out on the earth, emitting a strong odour of musk, that was quite disagreeable. "on returning to the porcupine—which our dogs took care not to meddle with—we found the animal already better than half-dead. the blood was run- ning from its throat, which the marten had torn open. of course, we put the creature out of pain by killing it outright; and taking the marten along with us for the purpose of skinning it, we returned homeward, leaving the elk-hunt for another day. "all this, as i have said, occurred afterwards. battle of the marten and porcupine. let us now return to the narrative of our fishing excursion. "as soon as the porcupine had been disposed of, we were reminded of the sufferings of our dogs, who had ceased their howling, but required to be relieved of the barbed spines with which their lips were sticking full. we drew them out as easily as we could; but, notwithstanding this, their heads began to swell up to twice the natural size, and the poor brutes appeared to be in great pain. they were fairly punished for their inconsiderate rashness; and it was not likely that they would run their noses against another porcupine for some time to come. the cunning old " 'coon." chapter xxxii. the cunning old "'coon." "we now continued our journey toward our fishing- ground, cudjo having hung the porcupine to a tree, with the design of taking home with him on our return. it was cudjo's intention to skin it, and eat part or the whole of it,—a species of food which he as- sured us, he had often eaten before, and which tasted equal to young pig. none of us were likely to join cudjo in such a meal; but at all events, thought we, when the quills and skin are removed, our dogs might get a morsel of it as a reward for their suffer- ings. this was an object, certainly; as, out of our scanty larder, castor and pollux did not fare the best sometimes. "we soon arrived upon the bank of the creek, and close to the pool. this was a long stretch of deep dark water, with a high bank on one side, sliadowed the cunning old " 'coon." over with leafy trees. on the opposite side, the bank was low, and shelved down to the edge —while several logs lay along it, half covered with water, and half of them stretching up against the bank. "we took the high bank for our station, as upon this there was a spot of smooth grassy turf, shaded by beautiful palmetto-trees, where the children could tumble about. here mary sat down with them, while the rest of us proceeded to fish. of course, we could do no more than throw in our lines, and then wait until the fish should be fools enough to bite. we conversed very quietly, lest the noise of our talk- ing should frighten the fish, though this was only an imagination of our own. we had not been watching our floats more than five minutes, when we noticed, here and there, a slight stir in the water; and, in the midst of the little circles made by this, we could see small black objects not unlike the heads of snakes. at first we took them for these. cudjo, however, knew better than we what they were, for he had often seen them while fishing in the creeks of virginia. "' golly, massa!' cried he, as soon as they made their appearance, 'de creek here am full ob de turtle.' the cunning old " 'coon." cudjo, these creatures will eagerly bite at anything that may be thrown into the water and appears strange to them. of the truth of this we had a curious demonstration shortly afterwards. "in a few minutes more, each of us had taken several good-sized fish, and we still continued watch- ing our rods in silence, when our attention was at- tracted to the movements of an animal upon the opposite bank, and about one hundred yards below where we sat. we were all well acquainted with this animal; and harry, the moment he saw it, whis- pered, — "' look, papa! mamma! a 'coon!' "yes, it was a raccoon. there was no mistaking the broad dark-brown back, the sharp fox-looking face and snout, and the long bushy tail, with its alternate rings of black and yellowish white. the short thick legs, the erect ears, and the white and black marks of the face, were familiar to all of us— for the raccoon is one of the best-known animals in america, and we had it among our pets. "at the sight of the ' 'coon,' cudjo's eyes fairly glistened—for there is no animal that affords so much sport to the negroes of the united states as the 'coon; and he is, therefore, to them^as interesting a the cunning old " 'coon." creature as the fox to the red-coated hunters of eng- land. hunting the raccoon is one of the principal amusements which the poor slave enjoys, in the beau- tiful moonlight nights of the southern states, after he has got free from his hard toil. by them, too, the flesh of the 'coon is eaten, although it is not esteemed much of a dainty. the 'possum is held in far higher estimation. cudjo's eyes then glistened as soon as he set them upon his old and familiar victim. "the 'coon all this while had seen none of us, else he would soon have widened the distance between us and himself. he was crawling cautiously along the bank of the creek, now hopping up on a log, and now stopping for a while, and looking earnestly into the water. "' de ole 'coon go to fish,' whispered cudjo; 'dat's what he am after.' "' fish !' said harry. "' yes, massa harry. he fish for de turtle.' "' and how will he catch them?' inquired harry. "' golly, massa harry, he catch 'em. wait, you see.' "we all sat quietly watching his manoeuvres, and curious to witness how he would catch the turtles; for none of us, with the exception of cudjo, thk cunning old " 'coon." knew how. we knew that it was not likely he would leap at them in the water, for these animals can dive as quickly as a fish; besides they can bite very severely, and would be sure to take a piece out of the 'coon's skin, should he attack them in their own element. but that was not his intention, as we presently saw. near the end of one of the logs that protruded into the water, we observed the heads of several turtles moving about on the surface. the raccoon saw them also, for he was stealthily approach- ing this log with his eyes fixed upon the swimming reptiles. on reaching it, he climbed upon it with great silence and caution. he then placed his head between his fore-legs; and, turning his tail toward the creek, commenced crawling down the log, tail- foremost. he proceeded slowly, bit by bit, until his long bushy tail hung over several inches into the water, where he caused it to move gently backwards and forwards. his body was rolled up into a sort of clew, until one could not have told what sort of a creature was on the log. "he had not remained many moments in this attitude, when one of the turtles, swimming about, caught sight of the moving tail; and, attracted the cunning old " 'coon." partly by curiosity, and partly in hopes of getting something to eat, approached, and seized hold of the long hair in his horny mandibles. but he had scarce caught it, before the 'coon unwound himself upon the log; and, at the same time, with a sudden and violent jerk of his tail, plucked the turtle out of the water, and flung him high and dry upon the bank! then following after, in three springs, he was beside his victim, which with his long sharp nose he imme- diately turned over upon its back—taking care all the while to avoid coming in contact with the bill-like snout of the turtle. the latter was now at the mercy of the 'coon, who was proceeding to demolish him in his usual fashion; but cudjo could stand it no longer, and away went he and the dogs, with loud shouts, across the creek. "the chase was not a long one, for in a few seconds the steady barking of the dogs told us that poor 'coony' was 'treed.' unfortunately, for him- self, he had run up a very low tree, where cudjo was able to reach him with his long spear; and when the rest of us got forward to the spot, we found that cudjo had finished him, and was holding him up by the tail, quite dead. the cunning old " 'coon." "we now went back to our fishing; and although we caught no more of the turtles, we succeeded in taking as many fish as we wanted; and returning to the house, mary cooked for us a most excellent fish dinner, which we all ate with a keen appetite. z little mart and the bee. chapter xxxiii. little ilaky and the bee. "dubikg the winter we saw very little of our beavers. through the cold season they lay snug in their houses—although not in a state of torpidity, as the beaver does not become torpid in winter. he only keeps within doors, and spends most of his time in eating and sleeping; but he goes out of his house at intervals to wash and clean himself, for the beaver is an animal of very precise habits. he is not compelled, however, to go abroad in search of food. as we have seen, he lays up a stock which serves him throughout the cold season. "for several weeks in mid-winter, the dam was frozen over with ice strong enough to bear our weight; and we visited the houses of the beavers that stood up like so many hay-stacks. we found them so hard and firm, that we could climb upon little mary and the bee. them, and pounce down upon their tops, without the least danger of breaking them in. in fact, it would have been anything but an easy task to have opened one of them from above; and no animal—not even the wolverene with his crooked claws,—could have done it. we observed that in every case the doors were far belowthe ice, so that the entrance still remained open to the animals within; and, moreover, when any one stamped heavily upon the roof, through the clear ice we could see the frightened creatures making their escape by darting off into the water. sometimes we remained to see if they would return, but in no instance did they come back. at the time we wondered at this—as we knew they could not possibly live under the ice, where there was no air. we soon found, however, that these cunning creatures knew what they were about; and that they had already provided means to escape from the danger of being drowned in this manner. along one side of the dam there was a bank, that rose considerably above the water; and into this bank they had made large holes, or as they are termed 'washes.' these were so constructed that the entrances to them could not be frozen up; and we found that whenever the beavers were dis- little mart and the bee. turbed or frightened from their houses, they inva- riably betook themselves to these washes, where they could crawl quietly up above the surface of the water, and breathe in safety. "this was the proper season to trap the beaver, as their fur is more valuable in winter than at any other time; but, as i have already said, it was not our intention to disturb them, until they should become very numerous. "the ice upon the dam was exceedingly smooth, and of course suggested the idea of skates. both frank and harry were very fond of this amusement, and, indeed, i was rather partial to it myself. "skates then must be had, at all cost, and again we had recourse to the bois d'arc, the wood of which was sufficiently light and compact for ouf purpose. cudjo, with his hammer and a good hickory-fire, soon drew out the shoeing for them, making it very thin—as our stock of iron consisted in what we had taken from the body of the wagon, and was of course very precious, and not to be wasted upon articles designed merely for amusement. however, we knew it would not be lost upon the skates, and we could take it from them, whenever we should want to apply it to a more useful purpose. in a short time, we little mary and the bee. had three pairs; and, strapping them firmly to our feet with strips of deer-skin, were soon gliding over the dam, and spinning around the beaver-houses, no doubt to the great wonderment of such of the animals as came out under the ice to look at us. mary, with cudjo and the children, stood watching us from the shore, and clapping their hands with delight. "with these and such-like innocent recreations, we passed the winter very agreeably. it was but a very short winter; and as soon as the spring returned, cudjo, with his wooden plough, turned up our little field, and we planted our corn. it occupied nearly an acre of ground; and we had now the pleasant prospect that, in six weeks' time, we should gather about fifty bushels. we did not neglect our hundred grains of wheat, but sowed that carefully in a corner by itself. you may fancy that it did not take up much ground. mary had also her garden, with beds of wild potatoes, and other roots, which she had dis- covered in the valley. one of these was the species of turnip already mentioned as the pomme-blanche, or indian turnip. she had found wild onions too, which proved of great service in soup-making. in her garden were many others of which i only know the names; but three of them, the 'kamas,' the little mart and the bee. 'kooyah,' and 'yampah' roots are worth mentioning, as thousands of the miserable indians who inhabit the american desert subsist chiefly on them. the widely scattered tribes known as the ' diggers,' take their name from the fact of their digging for, and living upon, these roots. "the flowers now came out in full bloom; and some of the openings near the upper end of the valley were a sight to behold. they were literally covered with beautiful blossoms — malms, cleomes, asclepias, and helianthi. we frequently visited this part, making pic-nic excursions to all the places of note in our little dominion. the cataract where the stream dashed over the cliff, the salt spring, and such-like places, formed points of interest; and we rarely failed in any of these excursions to draw some useful lesson from the school of nature. indeed, mary and i frequently designed them, for the pur- pose of instructing our children in such of the natural sciences as we ourselves knew. we had no books, and we illustrated our teachings by the objects around us. "one day we had strayed up as usual among the openings. it was very early in the spring, just as the flowers were beginning to appear. we had sat ijttle mary and the bee. bees there should also be honey; and the word 'honey' had a magic sound in the ears of our little community. bees and honey now became the topic of conversation; and not a sentence was uttered for some minutes that did not contain an allusion to bees or bees' nests, or bee-trees, or bee-hunters, or honey. "we all scattered among the flowers to assure ourselves that it really was a bee, and not some rascally wasp that had wounded our little mary. if it was a bee, we should find some of his com- panions roaming about among the blossoms of the helianthus. "in a short time harry was heard crying out, 'a bee!—a bee !' and almost at the same instant frank shouted, 'another!' 'hya — hya!' cried cudjo, 'hyar's de oder one—see 'im !—biz-z z. gollies! how he am loaded with de wax!' "two or three others were now discovered, all busily plying their industrious calling; and proving that there was one hive, at least, in some part of the valley. "the question now arose, how this hive was to be found? no doubt it was in some hollow tree—but how were we to find this tree, standing as it likely little mart and the bee. did among hundreds of others, and not differing from the rest in appearance? this was the question that puzzled us. "it did not puzzle all of us though. fortunately there chanced to be a bee-hunter among us—a real old bee-hunter, and that individual was our famous cudjo. cudjo had 'treed' bees many's the time in the woods of ' ole varginny,' and cut down the trees too, and licked the honey—for cudjo was as sweet upon honey as a bear. yes, cudjo had ' treed' bees many's the time, and knew how—that did cudjo. "we should have to return to the house, however, to enable him to make ready his implements; and as the day was now pretty far advanced, we determined to leave our bee-hunting for the morrow. a grand bee-hunt. chapter xxxiv. a grand bee-hunt. "next day we had a warm, sunshiny day—just such an one as would bring the bees out. after breakfast we all set forth for the openings, in high spirits at the prospect of the sport we should have. harry was more eager than any of us. he had heard a good deal about bee-hunters, and was very desirous of knowing how they pursued their craft. he could easily understand how, when a bee-tree was once found, it could be cut down with an axe and split open, and the honey taken from it. all this would be very easily done. but how were bee-trees found? that was the puzzle; for, as i have before observed, these trees do not differ in appearance from others around them, and the hole by which the bees enter is usually so high up, that one cannot see these little insects from the ground. one might tell it to be a a grand bee-hunt. endurance. the implements which cudjo had brought along with him—or as he called them, the 'fixins'—were exceedingly simple in then- character. they consisted of a drinking-glass—fortunately we had one that had travelled safely in our great mess- chest—a cup-full of maple molasses, and a few tufts of white wool taken from the tail of a rabbit. 'how was he going to use these tilings ?' thought harry, and so did we all—for none of us knew anything of the process, and cudjo seemed determined to keep quiet about his plans, until he should give us a practical illustration of them. "at length we arrived at the glades, and entered one of the largest of them, where we halted. pompo was taken from the cart, and picketed upon the grass; and we all followed cudjo—observing every move- ment that he made. harry's eyes were on him like a lynx, for he feared lest cudjo might go through some part of the operation without his seeing or understanding it. he watched him, therefore, as closely as if cudjo had been a conjuror, and was about to perform some trick. the latter said nothing, but went silently to work—evidently not a little proud of his peculiar knowledge, and the interest which he was exciting by it. a grand bee-hunt. thumb and forefinger. he then raised it from the log, and turning it breast upward, with his other hand he attached a small tuft of the rabbit wool to the legs of the insect. the glutinous paste with which its thighs were loaded enabled him to effect this the more easily. the wool, which was exceed- ingly light, was now 'flaxed out,' in order to make it show as much as possible, while, at the same time, it was so arranged as not to come in contact with the wings of the bee and hinder its flight. all this did cudjo with an expertness which surprised us, and would have surprised any one who was a stranger to the craft of the bee-hunter. he performed every operation with great nicety, taking care not to crip- ple the insect; and, indeed, he did not injure it in the least—for cudjo's fingers, although none of the smallest, were as delicate in the touch as those of a fine lady. "when everything was arranged, he placed the bee upon the log again, laying it down very gently. "the little creature seemed quite astounded at the odd treatment which it was receiving, and for a few seconds remained motionless upon the log; but a warm sunbeam glancing down upon it soon restored it to its senses; and perceiving that it was once more a grand bee-hunt. free, it stretched its translucent wings and rose sud- denly into the air. it mounted straight upward, to a height of thirty or forty feet, and then commenced circling around, as we could see by the white wool that streamed after it. "it was now that cudjo's eyes rolled in good ear- nest. the pupils seemed to be dilated to twice their usual size, and the great balls appeared to tumble about in their sockets, as if there was nothing to hold them. his head, too, seemed to revolve, as if his short thick neck had been suddenly converted into a well-greased pivot, and endowed with rotatory motion! "after making several circles through the air, the insect darted off for the woods. we followed it with our eyes as long as we could ; but the white tuft was soon lost in the distance, and we saw no more of it. we noticed that it had gone in a straight line, which the bee always follows when returning loaded to his hive—hence an expression often heard in western america, the ' bee-line,' and which has its synonym in england in the phrase, 'as the crow flies.' cudjo knew it would keep on in this line, until it had reached the tree where its nest was; consequently, he was now in possession of one link in the chain of a grand bee-hunt. bis discovery—the direction of the bee-tree from the point where we stood. "but would this be enough to enable him to find it? evidently not. the bee might stop on the very edge of the woods, or it might go twenty yards beyond, or fifty, or perhaps a quarter of a mile, with- out coming to its tree. it was plain, then, to all of us, that the line in which the tree lay was not enough, as without some other guide one might have searched along t.hjs line for a week without finding the nest. "all this knew cudjo before; and, of course, he did not stop a moment to reflect upon it then. he had carefully noted the direction taken by the insect, which he had as carefully 'marked' by the trunk of a tree which grew on the edge of the glade, and in the line of the bee's flight. another 'mark' was still necessary to record the latter, and make things sure. to do this, cudjo stooped down, and with his knife cut an oblong notch upon the bark of the log, which pointed lengthwise in the direction the bee had taken. this he executed with great pre- cision. he next proceeded to the tree which he had used as a marker, and ' blazed' it with his axe. a grand bee-hunt. "'what next ?' thought we. cudjo was not long in showing us what was to be next. another log was selected, at a point, at least two hundred yards distant from the former one. a portion of this was scraped in a similar manner, and molasses poured upon the clear spot as before. another bee was caught, imprisoned under the glass, fed, hoppled with wool, and then let go again. to our astonish- ment, this one flew off in a direction nearly opposite to that taken by the former. "' neber mind,' said cudjo, 'so much de better —two bee-tree better than one.' "cudjo marked the direction which the latter had taken, precisely as he had done with the other. "without changing the log a third bee was caught and ' put through.' this one took a new route, dif- ferent from either of his predecessors. "' gollies! massa!' cried cudjo, 'dis valley am full ob honey. three bee-trees at one stand!' and he again made his record upon the log. "a fourth bee was caught, and, after undergoing the ceremony, let go again. this one evidently be- longed to the same hive as the first, for we saw that it flew toward the same point in the woods. the a grand bee-hunt. direction was carefully noted, as before. a clue was now found to the whereabouts of one hive—that of the first and fourth bees. that was enough for the present. as to the second and third, the records which cudjo had marked against them would stand good for the morrow or any other day; and he pro- ceeded to complete the ' hunt' after the nest of nos. and . "we had all by this time acquired an insight into the meaning of cudjo's manoeuvres, and we were able to assist him. the exact point where the bee-tree grew was now determined. it stood at the point where the two lines made by bees, nos. and , met each other. it would be found at the very apex of this angle—wherever it was. but that was the next difficulty—to get at this point. there would have been no difficulty about it, had the ground been open, or so that we could have seen to a sufficient distance through the woods. this could have been easily accomplished by two of us stationing ourselves—one at each of the two logs—while a third individual moved along either of the lines. the moment this third person should appear on both lines at once, he would of course be at the point of intersection; and a grand bee-hunt. at this point the bee-tree would be found. i shall explain this by a diagram. "suppose that a and c were the two logs, from which the bees, nos. and , had respectively taken their flight; and suppose a b and c b to be the directions in which they had gone. if they went directly home—which it was to be presumed they both did—they would meet at their nest at some point b. this point could not be discovered by seeing the bees meeting at it, for they were already lost sight of at short distances from a and c. but without this, had the ground been clear of timber, we could easily have found it in the following manner:— i should have placed myself at log a, while cudjo stationed himself at c. we should then have sent one of the a grand bee-hunt. boys — say harry—along the line ad. this, you must observe, is a fixed line, for d was already a marked point. after reaching d, harry should continue on, keeping in the same line. the mo- ment, therefore, that he came under the eye of cudjo —who would be all this while glancing along c e, also a fixed line—he would then be on both lines at once, and consequently at their point of intersection. this, by all the laws of bee-hunting, would be the place to find the nest; and, as i have said, we could easily have found it thus, had it not been for the trees. but these intercepted our view, and therein lay the difficulty; for the moment harry should have passed the point d, where the underwood began, he would have been lost to our sight, and, of course, of no far- ther use in establishing the point b. "for myself, i could not see clearly how this difficulty was to be got over—as the woods beyond d and e were thick and tangled. the thing was no puzzle to cudjo, however. he knew a way of find- ing b, and the bee-tree as well, and he went about it at once. "placing one of the boys at the station a, so that he could see him over the grass, he shouldered his axe, and moved off along the line a d. he a grand bee-hunt. entered the woods at d, and kept on until he had found a tree from which both a and d were visible, and which lay exactly in the same line. this tree he 'blazed.' he then moved a little farther, and blazed another, and another—all on the continuation of the line a d—until we could hear him chopping away at a good distance in the woods. presently he returned to the point e; and, calling to one of us to stand for a moment at c, he commenced ' blazing' backwards, on the continuation of c e. we now joined him—as our presence at the logs was no longer necessary to his operations. "at a distance of about two hundred yards from the edge of the glade, the blazed lines were seen to approach each other. there were several very large trees at this point. cudjo's 'instinct' told him, that in one of these the bees had their nest. he flung down his axe at length, and rolled his eyes upwards. we all took part in the search, and gazed up, trying to discover the little insects that, no doubt, were winging their way among the high branches. "in a few moments, however, a loud and joyful exclamation from cudjo proclaimed that the hunt was over—the bee-tree was found! "true enough, there was the nest, or the en- a grand bee-hunt. trance that led to it, away high up on a giant syca- more. we could see the discoloration on the bark caused by the feet of the bees, and even the little creatures themselves crowding out and in. it was a large tree, with a cavity at the bottom big enough to have admitted a full-sized man, and, no doubt, hollow up to the place where the bees had con- structed their nest. "as we had spent many hours in finding it, and the day was now well advanced, we concluded to leave farther operations for the morrow, when we should fell it, and procure the delicious honey. with this determination, and well satisfied with our day's amusement, we returned to our house. a btval honey-robber. chapter xxxv. a rival honey-robber. "now, there were some circumstances to be consi- dered, before we could proceed any farther in the mat - ter of the bees. how were we to get at the honey? 'why, by felling the tree, and splitting it open, of course,' you will say. well, that would have to be done, too; but there was still another consideration. it is no very difficult matter to fell a tree, and split it up—that is, when one has a good axe—but it is a very different affair to take the honey-combs from some eight or ten thousand bees, every one of them with a sharp sting in his tail. we had no brimstone; and if we had had such a thing, they were well out of the reach of it, while the tree stood; and after it should be felled, we could not approach them. they would then be furious to a certainty. * a rival honey-robber. "but cudjo's knowledge of bee-hunting extended farther than to the mere finding of the tree. he knew, also, how to humbug the bees, and rob them of their sweet honey. that was a part of the performance that cudjo understood as well as any other. accord- ing to his directions, then, two pairs of stout buck- skin gloves were prepared. we chanced to have one pair already, and mary soon stitched up a second, of the kind generally used for weeding thistles—that is, having only a thumb, and a place for all the fin- gers together. one pair of the gloves cudjo intended to use himself—the other was for me. of course, the rest were to take no part in the robbery, but only to stand at a safe distance and look on. "in addition to the gloves, a couple of masks were cut out of elk-hide, and with strings fitted to our faces. these, with our thick deer-skin overcoats, would protect us against the stings of all the bees in creation. "thus accoutred, then, or rather taking these articles along with us, we set out for the bee-tree. of course, everybody went as usual. we took with us the axe to cut down the tree, and several vessels to hold the honey. "on arriving at the glade, we loosed pompo a rival honey-robber. "we observed that it was a warm day—the warm- est we had had up to that time—and, probably, the heat had set them a-going. with this explanation, therefore, in the absence of a better, we remained satisfied; and commenced making our preparations to fell the tree. "it was not likely to be a difficult job. the tree, as i have said, was a hollow one; and near the ground its trunk was nothing but a mere shell, which we could easily cut through. so cudjo. went lustily to work with his axe; and the white sycamore chips were soon flying in every direction. "he had hardly made a dozen strokes, when we were startled by a singular noise, that sounded some- thing like a ' cross ' between a growl and a snort! "cudjo immediately suspended his blows; and we all stood gazing at each other with looks that be- tokened surprise and terror. i say terror—for the noise had something terrible in it; and we knew it could have proceeded from nothing else than some large and fierce animal. whence did it come?— :om the woods? we looked anxiously around us, but no motion could be observed in the bramble, ""he underwood was thin, and we could have seen a large animal at some distance, had such been there. a rival honey-robber. "again the horrid sound echoed in our ears. it appeared to issue out of the earth! no—it came out of the tree! "' golly!' exclaimed cudjo, • it am a bar, massa roff! i know him growl.' "' a bear!' i ejaculated, catching the thought at the same moment. 'a bear in the bee-tree! run, mary! run for the glade !'—and i hurried my wife and children from the spot. harry and frank both wished to remain with their rifles, and i could hardly get them off. i induced them to go, at length, by telling them that they must stay near their mother and the little ones, to guard them in case the animal should come that way. all this occupied but a few seconds of time, and then cudjo and i were left to ourselves. "it was evident that a bear was up the hollow of the tree, and hence the flurry among the bees. cudjo's axe had disturbed him—he was coming down! "what was to be done? could we not close up the hole? no—there was nothing—we should be too late! "i seized my rifle, while cudjo stood by with his axe. i cocked the piece, and made ready to fire the a rival honey-robber. moment his head should appear. to our astonish- ment, instead of a head, a shapeless mass of shaggy, black hair made its appearance, which we saw was the rump and hind-quarters of the animal. he was coming down tail-foremost—although not a bit of tail was to be seen, for he had none. "we did not stop to examine that. i fired as soon as his hips made their appearance, and almost at the same instant cudjo dealt them a hearty blow with his axe. it was enough to have killed him, as we thought, but to our surprise the hind-quarters suddenly disappeared. he had gone up the tree again. # "what next ?—would he turn himself in the hollow, and come down head-foremost? if so, my rifle was empty, and cudjo might miss his blow, and let him pass out. "all at once my eye fell upon the two great deer- skin coats, that were lying on the ground close by. they would be large enough, properly rolled, to fill the mouth of the cavity. i threw aside my rifle, and laid hold of them. cudjo assisted me. in a second or two, we had gathered them into a hard 'clump,' and wedged them into the hole. they fitted it exactly!" a rival honey-robber. "we saw blood streaming down as we stuffed in the coats. the bear was wouuded. it was not likely, then, that he would trouble us for a while; and as one watched the coats, the other brought up great stones, which we piled against them, until we had made all secure. "we now ran around the tree, looking up the trunk, to assure ourselves that there was no opening above, through which he might creep out and come down upon us. no—there was none, except the bee-hole, and that was not big enough for his nose, sharp as it was. bruin was fairly ' in the trap.' "i knew that mary and the rest would be uneasy about us ; and i ran out to the glade to make known our success. the boys cheered loudly; and we all returned together to the tree, as there was now no danger—no more than if there hadn't been a bear nearer to us than the north pole. "we had him now, so that there was no fear of his escaping. but how were we to get at him ?— for we had determined to take his life. such a fierce creature as this must not be allowed to get off; as he would soon have settled with one of us, had he met us on anything like equal terms. i had thought, at first, he might be a grizzly bear, and a rival honey-robber. this had terrified me the more—for the killing of one of these fierce animals with a shot is next to an impossibility. when i reflected, however, i knew it could not be this; for the 'grizzly,' unlike his sable cousin, is not a tree-climber. it was the black bear, then, that we had got in the tree. "but how were we to reach him? leave him where he was, and let him starve to death? no, that would never do. he would eat all the fine stock of honey; if, indeed, he had not done so already. moreover, he might scrape his way out, by enlarging the bee-hole. this he could do with his great sharp claws. we must therefore adopt some other plan. "it occurred to us that it was just probable he might be down at the bottom, poking his nose against the coats. we could not tell, for there was no longer any growling. he was either too angry, or too badly scared to growl—we could not say which. at all events, he was not uttering a sound. he might, nevertheless, be as close to us at the moment as he could get. if so, our plan would be to cut a small hole in the tree above him, so that we might reach him with a bullet a rival honey-robber. from the rifle. this plan was adopted, and cudjo set to work to make the hole. "in a few minutes the thin shell was penetrated, and we could see into the cavity. bruin was no- where visible—he was still up the tree. the 'taste of our quality,' which he had had on his first descent, had evidently robbed him of all inclination to try a second. what next? "' smoke 'im!' cried cudjo; 'dat fotch 'im down.' "the very thing: but how were we to do it? by pushing dead leaves and grass through the hole cudjo had cut, and then setting them on fire. but our coats—they might be burned! these we could first remove, putting great stones in their place; and we proceeded to do so. in a few minutes that was accomplished: the grass and leaves were stuffed in; some tufts were set on fire and thrust through; more rubbish was piled on top, until it reached up on a level with the hole; and then the hole was closed with a bundle of grass, so as to prevent the smoke from escaping. "in a few moments we saw that everything was progressing as we had intended it. a blue rope a rival honey-robber. of smoke came oozing out of the bee-hole, and the terrified bees swarmed out in clusters. we had not thought of this before, else we might have saved ourselves the trouble of making the gloves and masks. "bruin now began to give tongue. we could hear him high up the tree snarling and growling fiercely. every now and then he uttered a loud snort, that sounded very like an asthmatic cough. after a while his growls changed into a whine, then a hideous moan, and then the sounds ceased altoge- ther. the next moment we heard a dull concussion, as of a heavy body falling to the earth. we knew it was the bear, as he tumbled from his perch. "we waited for some minutes. there was no longer any stir—no sound issued from the tree. we removed the grass from the upper hole. a thick volume of smoke rolled out. the bear must be dead. no creature could live in such an atmo- sphere. i introduced my ramrod through the opening. i could feel the soft hairy body of the animal, but it was limber and motionless. it was dead. feeling convinced of this, at length, we removed the rocks below, and dragged it forth. yes, the bear was dead,— or, at all events, very b b a rival honey-robber. like it; but, to make the thing sure, cudjo gave him a knock on the head with his axe. his long, shaggy hair was literally filled with dead and dying bees, that, like himself, had been suffocated with the smoke, and had fallen from their combs. "we had hardly settled the question of the bear, when our attention was called to another circum- stance, which was likely to trouble us. we per- ceived that the tree was on fire. the decayed heart-wood that lined the cavity inside had caught fire from the blazing grass, and was now crackling away like fury. our honey would be lost! "this was a grievous finale, after all—in short, a complete disappointment to our hopes, for we had calculated on having honey on our table at supper. "what could we do to save it? but one thins, that was evident:—cut down the tree as quickly as possible, and then cut it through again between the fire and tbe bees' nest. "should we have time for all this? the fire was already high up; and the draught, since we had opened the holes below, whizzed up the cavity as through a funnel. "seeing this, we closed them again; and cudjo went to work with his axe, cutting all around the a rival honey-robber. tree. and the way he did ply that axe! he seemed to have a wager against time. it was beautiful to see the style in which the chips flew! "at length the tree began to crack, and we all stood out from it, except cudjo, who understood which way it would fall, and was not afraid of being crushed. not he! for cudjo could 'lay' a tree wherever it was wanted to the breadth of a hair. "' cr-r-r-ack!—cr-r-r-r-ash!' said the great syca- more, and down it came, shivering its branches into an hundred sticks as it fell. "it had scarcely touched the ground, when we saw cudjo attack it at another point with his •xcs £ls though it were some great monster, and he was trying to cut off its head. "in a few minutes more he had laid open the cavity, close to the combs; and, to our great satis- faction, we saw that the fire had not yet reached them. they were well smoked, however, and com- pletely deserted by the bees; so that we used neither the masks nor gloves in gathering the honey. bruin had been before us, but he had not been long at his meal when we intruded upon him, as only one or two of the combs were missing. enough was left. it was evidently a very old hive, and - a rival honey-robber. there was honey enough to fill all the vessels we had brought with us. "we bundled the bear into the cart—as both his hams and skin were worth the trouble —and leaving the old sycamore to burn out, we turned our faces homeward. the battle of the bucks. able to start and run down a fawn with the dogs castor and pollux. for this we had muzzled both, so that they should not tear the fawn when they came up with it—as i had often seen greyhounds muzzled at home for the same purpose. we went up the valley, where we would be most likely to fall in with the objects of our search; but not knowing how soon a deer might start out of the bushes, we walked along very silently and slowly, watching the woods before us, and listening to every sound. at length we arrived near the edge of a small opening, as we could tell by the clear breaks through the branches. it was in these glades or openings that we usually fell in with the deer; and we advanced with increased caution, each of us holding a dog in the leash which we had made for them. all at once a singular noise reached our ears, evidently coming from the glade. it sounded as if several large ani- mals were stamping furiously over the firm turf; but in the midst of this there was a constant cracking of some hard substances, as if half-a-dozen men were playing with eagerness at the game of single-stick. every now and then we could hear a strange sound, short and fierce, like the snorting of a horse. of course, harry and i stopped in our tracks the battle of the bucks. the moment we first heard these singular noises. our dogs cocked their ears, and wanted to spring forward; but we held them both tightly on their strings, while we listened. for the life of us, neither i nor my companion could guess what was going on in the glade. "' what can it be, papa ?' said harry. "' i haven't the slightest idea,' replied i. "' it must be animals,' said he, 'and a good many of them, too, to make so much stamping. papa, is not that the snort of a deer? i think i have heard deer make just such a noise.' "' maybe it is. perhaps it may be elk; but what can cause such a commotion among them, i wonder?' "'what think you,' suggested harry,' if they are fighting with some animal — a panther, or perhaps a bear?' "' if so,' said i, ' our best plan would be to get back the road we came, and that as speedily as pos- sible. but i do not think it is that. they would not stand to fight such creatures. both elk and deer trust to their heels rather than horns to escape from bears and panthers. no, it is not that; but let us the battle of the bucks. creep forward, and see what it is, anyhow. hold fast to your dog. come!' "we crouched forward with the utmost caution, taking care not to tread upon the dry leaves and dead branches that lay across our track. we saw before us a thicket of pawpaws; and we made to- wards this—knowing that the broad green leaves of these bushes would screen us. we were soon among them; and a few paces farther through the thicket brought us in full view of the glade. there we saw what had caused all the strange noises, and which still continued as loud as ever. "in the middle of the glade there were six red- deer. they were all bucks, as we could easily tell from their great branching antlers. they were en- gaged in fierce and terrible conflict — sometimes two and two, and sometimes three or four of them, clumped together in a sort of general melee. then they would separate again; and going some distance apart, would wheel suddenly about, and rush at each other with furious snorts, first striking forward with their fore-feet held close together, and then goring one another with their sharp horns, until we could see the skin torn open, and the hair flying the battle of the eucks. from them in tufts. their eyes were flashing like fire, and their whole actions betokened that the animals were filled with rage and fury. "i saw at once what all this meant. it was now the rutting season; and these chivalrous bucks were engaged in desperate combat about some fair doe, as is their yearly habit. "they were too distant for either harry's rifle or mine; and thinking they might fight themselves a little nearer, we determined to remain where we were, and watch. the combat still continued to rage furiously. sometimes two of them came together with such violence that both went rolling over to the earth; but in a moment they would up, and at it again, as fiercely as ever. "our attention was particularly directed to two of the combatants, that were larger and older than any of the others—as we could tell from the greater num- ber of points upon their antlers. none of the others seemed a match for either of these two, who had at length singled each other out as worthy antagonists, and fought separately. after goring and stamping a while, they parted—as if by mutual consent—and walked backward until they had got at least twenty yards from each other. then setting their necks, the battle of the bucks. unmuzzled the dogs, and let them after. of course, we had stooped down to perform this operation. what was our surprise, on looking up again, to see the two old bucks still in the glade, and fighting, head to head, as briskly as ever! "our first thought was to reload our pieces, but the dogs had been let loose; and these, instead of pursuing the other deer, dashed forward at the bucks, and the next moment sprang upon their flanks. harry and i rushed after, and you may guess that our surprise was still further increased when we saw the bucks, instead of separating, still struggle head to head—as if their desperate hostility for each other had rendered them reckless of every other danger! when we got forward to the spot, the mastiffs had brought both of them to their knees; and now for the first time we perceived the true cause why they had continued their sin- gular combat — because they could not help them- selves—their antlers were locked in each other! yes, — held as firmly as if they had been lashed together by thongs cut out of their own hides. indeed, far more firmly, for after we had beaten off the dogs, and secured the animals from the chance of escaping, we found their horns so interlocked—one pair within the battle of the bucks. we had arrived upon the ground as we did. otherwise their fate was a settled one. the wolves, or some other of their numerous enemies, would have treated them worse than we intended to do; or had they not been discovered by these, their doom was sealed all the same. they might have twisted and wriggled about for a few days longer, to die of thirst and hunger, still locked in that hostile embrace. such is the fate of many of these animals. "cudjo soon arrived with the necessary imple- ments; and, after hoppling both the bucks, we sawed one of the branches from their antlers, and set them asunder. we then put all three into the cart, and returned triumphant to the house. the pit-trap. chapter xxxvii. the pit-trap. "cudjo had already completed our deer-park, which consisted of several acres, partly woodland and part of it being in the glade immediately adjoining the house. it was enclosed on all sides by a ten-rail fence, with stakes and riders, so that no animal of the deer species could possibly leap out of it. one of its sides lay along the lake; and a trench had been cut, so as to admit a small pond of water within the enclosure. into this our bucks were put, and left to enjoy themselves as they best might. "the next anxiety of harry and myself was to procure a doe or two to keep them company. there was no likelihood that we should capture a pair of does as we had just done the bucks—since the does of this species of deer are without the great antlers. the pit-trap. so that in about five hours' time we had excavated a square hole, at least seven feet deep. this would do, thought we. no deer could leap out of that hole, we were certain. "we now placed the saplings across the top, and over these a thin stratum of cane-reeds, and above all this a quantity of long grass and withered leaves— so as to make it look as like as possible to the rest of the surface around it. we then removed the clods, and other marks of our work, put our imple- ments into the cart, and started off home again. of course we could do nothing more than wait, until some unlucky deer should drop into the pit. "by sunrise on the following morning, we paid a visit to our trap. as we drew near, we saw to our great joy that the top was broken in. "' we have caught something, papa,' said harry, as we ran eagerly up to the ground. what was our astonishment, on looking into the pit, to see lying along the bottom the naked skeleton of an animal, which we knew at once was that of a deer! we knew this by the horns, as well as pieces of the torn skin that were strewed all over the ground. all around the inside of the trap there were evidences of some terrible struggle that had taken place during the pit-trap. the night; and the reeds and grass that had fallen in along with the animal were sprinkled with blood, and trampled down upon the bottom of the pit. "' what can it be?' inquired harry, as we stood gazing at this unexpected picture. 'ha! papa, wager it was the wolves!' "' no doubt,' replied i; 'it must have been they. the buck has fallen in during the night; and they have just leaped down upon the top, and made a meal of him.' "' isn't it too bad,' said harry, in a tone of vexa- tion, ' that we should have constructed so fine a trap just to accommodate those rascally wolves? isn't it too bad?' "' have a little patience,' said i, ' we shall see what can be done to punish the ravenous brutes. kun back to the house, and bring cudjo, with his cart and tools—be sure you tell him to bring the large basket.' "in a short time cudjo came with his spade and cart, and we set freshly to work upon the pit. it was now so deep that we had to use the large willow basket which cudjo had made some time before. this we slung upon a thong of deer's hide; and low- ering it into the pit, we filled it with the earth, drew it up again, and emptied it into the cart. it was the pit-trap. somewhat laborious work; and cudjo and i took turns about with the basket and spade. after a couple of hours or so, we had added four feet to the depth of our pit, which made it twelve in all. of course we cut the sides as nearly perpendicular as we could—if anything a little hanging over. we covered it as before, putting fresh leaves and grass on the top of all. "' now,' said we to one another, as we marched off, 'let us see the wolf that will leap out of that, should he be only fool enough to drop into it. he may kill the deer while he is in, but we shall do the same for him in the morning.' "next morning we started forth again, big with expectation. our whole party went,—frank, mary, and the little ones,—as they were all eager to see the trap, and whether we had taken any thing. cudjo brought with him his long spear, while harry and i carried our rifles. frank armed himself with his bow. we were prepared for the wolves every way. "as we drew near the trap, harry, who had gone a few paces in advance of the rest, came running back to announce that the top was broken in, and that there was some animal inside. this was great news; and we all hurried forward, filled with the the pit-trap. hole had been scraped under the trap, which, running for some distance underground, came out upon the outside. but the most singular part of the business was, that this hole had evidently been burrowed before the trigger had been touched, or the trap had fallen! we could tell this, because the hole was made from the outside, and through it the animal had most likely entered. of course, in laying hold of the bait, the trigger was sprung, and the trap fell; but it was of no use then, as the wolf had only to crawl out through the subterranean road he had made, dragging the meat along with him. "we again tried the 'pit-trap'—although we still had the one which we had made near the salt springs, and in which we afterwards from time to time caught deer and other animals, but no wolves. we made another, however, at a different part of the valley, near some caves where we knew the wolves were in great plenty. we baited this, first placing some venison upon the covering of leaves, and afterwards putting one of our live bucks into the pit; but in both cases the bait remained un- touched, although we had sufficient evidence that wolves had been around it all the night. "we were very much chagrined by these nume- the pit-trap. rous disappointments, as we wanted to thin off the wolves as much as possible. we occasionally shot an odd one or two; but we as often missed them; and we could not afford to waste our powder and lead upon them. cudjo, however, did the busi- ness at last, by constructing a trap such as he said he had often caught raccoons with in ' old varginny.' this was arranged something on the principle of the wire mouse-trap; and the spring consisted in a young tree or sapling bent down and held in a state of ten- sion until the trigger was touched, when it instantly flew up, and a heavy log descended upon whatever animal was at the bait, crushing or killing it in- stantly. by means of cudjo's invention we suc- ceeded in taking nearly a dozen of our skulking enemies in the course of a few nights, after which time they grew so shy, that they would not approach anything at all that looked like a ' fixture,' and for a long while we could trap no more of them. "of course all these incidents occurred after- wards, but they convinced us that it was owing to their great sagacity, why the three we had killed in the pit had left undisturbed the doe and her fawns. they were no doubt the same that had eaten the buck on the night before. they had found him in a the p t-trap. shallow pit, out of which, after making their supper upon him, they had easily escaped. returning again next night, they had watched until the doe and her fawns came along and dropped into the pit; and then, without dreaming of any change in the circum- stances of the case, the wolves had leaped in after. but the increased descent down which they had pitched, convinced these wary animals that they had 'leaped without looking,' and were 'in the trap' themselves; and, guessing that whoever had made that trap would soon be alongside, they were as much frightened as the poor doe. in this state we had actually found them—cowering and crouching, and more scared-like than the fawns themselves. you will think this a very improbahle relation, yet it is quite true. an equally improbable event occurred not long after. frank caught a large fox and a turkey in his trap; and although they had been together for some hours, not a feather of the turkey was plucked by its affrighted neighbour! "i have also heard of a panther, who, by the sud- den rising of a flood, had found himself upon a small islet in company with a deer; and although at any other time his first instinct would have led him to pounce upon it, yet the poor deer was allowed to run the pit-trap. about without its fierce companion attempting to touch it. he saw that he and the deer were equally in peril; and a common danger among the wild animals—as among men—frequently turns foes into friends. the old " 'possum" and her kittens. "we travelled on down the valley, looking for a tree with moss upon it, that we could climb. at length, almost close to the foot of the cliff, we chanced upon a very large live-oak, with low branches, from which the long, silvery moss was hanging down in streamers, like the tails of horses. we soon stripped off what was on the lower branches; and then climb- ing up on these, proceeded to rob the others, that were higher, of their long stringy parasites. "while thus engaged, our attention was attracted to the chirping and chattering of some birds in a thicket of pawpaws close to our tree. we looked in that direction, and we could see down into the thicket very plainly from where we stood among the branches. we saw that the birds making the noise were a pair of orioles, or 'baltimore birds,' as they are often called, from the fact that, in the early settlements, their colour—a mixture of black and orange—was observed to be the same as that in the coat-of-arms of lord baltimore. frank and i conjectured that they must have a nest among the pawpaws, for they had scolded us as we were passing through but a moment before. but what were they scolding now? asked we of one another—for the birds were flutter- ing among the broad green leaves, uttering their the old " possum " and her kittens. wide, and, as we could see, full of sharp teeth. the legs were short and stout, and the feet with their keen claws seemed to spread out upon the ground more like hands than feet. the tail was very pecu- liar; it was nearly as long as the body, tapering like that of a rat, and quite naked. but the greatest curiosity in the structure of this creature was a pouch- like opening which appeared under her belly, and which showed us that she belonged to the family of the marsupialia, or pouched animals. this, of course, we had known before. the little ''possums' were exact pictures of their mother—all having the same sharp snouts and long naked tails. we counted no less than thirteen of them, playing and tumbling about among the leaves. "as soon as the old one had shaken them all off, she stepped more nimbly over the ground, going backwards and forwards, and looking up into one of the pawpaws that grew above the spot where she had halted. in this tree the orioles were now fluttering about, chirruping wildly, and at intervals making a dash downward, until their wings almost swept the nose of the opossum. the latter, however, appeared to take all this very coolly, and evidently did not regard the imbecile efforts of the birds to frighten the old " 'possum" and her kittens. ones, one by one, in her mouth, she caused each of them to make a turn or two of its tail around the branch, and hang head downwards. five or six of the 'kittens' were still upon the ground. for these she returned, and taking them up as before, again climbed the tree. she disposed of the second load, precisely as she had done the others, until the thirteen little 'possums hung head downwards along the branch, like a string of candles! "it was such a comical sight to see these monkey- looking little creatures dangling by their tails, that my companion and i could not restrain our laughter as we gazed upon it. we took care, however, not to laugh aloud, as we were anxious to observe the further movements of the old 'possum, and we knew that if she should hear us it would spoil sport at once. "as soon as she saw the young ones all fairly suspended, she separated from them, and commenced climbing higher. we noticed that she caught the branches in her claws, exactly as a human being would have done with his hands, hoisting herself from limb to limb. at length she reached the branch upon which hung the nest, far out at its top. for a moment she stopped and surveyed it. she was evi- thi rew yorc public librart a«toh. l»km [i.dkn rohndatlou* the old " 'possum" and her kittens. dently in doubt whether it would carry her weight without breaking, and so were we. should it break, she would have a smart fall to the ground—for the tree was one of the highest, for a pawpaw, we had ever seen, and there were no other branches below to which she could clutch in case of falling. "the nest, however, full of eggs no doubt, tempted her on; and, after a moment's pause, she started along the branch. when about half-way up it— holding on both" with tail and feet—the slender sap- ling began to creak and bend, and show symptoms of breaking. this, with the screaming of the birds, that now flapped against her very nose, seemed all at once to cow h^r; and she crept down again, going backwards along "ihe limb. on reaching the fork, she paused, and looked about with an air that showed she was both vexed and puzzled. all at once her eyes rested upon the branch of an oak-tree, that stretched out over the pawpaw, and directly above the orioles' nest. she looked at this for a moment— as if calculating its height from the nest; then seem- ing to make up her mind, she ran nimbly down the pawpaw, over the ground that intervened, and up the trunk of the oak. we lost sight of her for an instant among the thick leaves; but the next we the moccason snake and the orioles. chapter xxxix. the moccason snake and the orioles. "we now climbed back into the live-oak, and re- commenced flinging down our moss. we were chat- ting gaily about the curious scene we had just .wit- nessed. frank was remarking how lucky he had been in thus finding the nest of the orioles—as he wanted young birds of that species, and" he could return for them whenever they were hatched. all of a sudden, these birds—that since the defeat of the 'possum had remained perfectly quiet—again com- menced screaming and chattering as before. "'another 'possum!' said frank; 'maybe it's the old father coming to look after his family.' "we both stopped, and looked down. we soon discovered what was causing this new commotion. slowly gliding over the grass, and glittering as it went, was a long monster-looking object. it was a the moccason snake and the orioles. huge serpent—a snake of the most venomous kind —the dreaded 'moccason.' it was one of the largest of its species; and its great flat head, pro- truding sockets, and sparkling eyes, added to the hideousness of its appearance. every now and then, as it advanced, it threw out its forked tongue, which, moist with poisonous saliva, flashed under the sun- beam like jets of fire. it was crawling directly for the tree on which hung the nest. frank and i stood still where we were, determined to watch its movements, as we had done those of the opossum. on reaching the root of the pawpaw, it stopped for a moment, as if to consider. "' do you think it is going to climb up to the nest?' inquired my companion. "' no,' i replied, 'the moccason is not a tree- climber. if it were, the poor birds as well as the squirrels would have little chance; but it cannot climb. look at it! it is only making pretence—to frighten the orioles still more, if possible.' "as i said this, the snake had drawn its body closer to the tree, and raised its flat head up against the trunk, throwing out its tongue as if it was lick- ing the bark. "the orioles, evidently believing that it was about the moccason snake and the orioles. to climb up, had now descended to the lowest branches, fluttering from one to the other, and screaming all the while either with rage, or terror, or both combined. "the snake, seeing them approach almost within range of his hideous maw, gathered himself into a coil, and prepared to strike. his eyes scintillated like sparks of fire, and seemed to fascinate the birds; for, instead of retiring, they each moment drew nearer and nearer, now alighting on the ground, then flapping back to the branches, and anon darting to the ground again—as though they were under some spell from those fiery eyes, and were unable to take themselves away! their motions appeared to grow less energetic, their chirping became almost inaudible, and their wings seemed hardly to expand as they flew, or rather fluttered, around the head of the serpent. one of them at length dropped down upon the ground—within reach of the snake—and stood with open bill, as if exhausted, and unable to move far- ther. we were expecting to see the snake suddenly launch forth upon his feathered victim; when, all at once, his coils flew out, his body was thrown at full length, and he commenced retreating from the tree! the birds, apparently released from the spell that the moccason snake and the orioles. a dark reddish colour—two young peccaries—were following at its heels. like the opossum, it was a mother and her brood. "the three soon drew near the pawpaws; and the orioles seeing them, once more set up the scolding concert. but the old peccary paid no attention to the' birds. they were nothing to her; and she passed on with her nose to the ground, occasionally stopping to pick up a seed or a nut. "in going away from the thicket, she crossed the track by which the serpent had retreated. all on a sudden she stopped, tossed up her nose, and scented the air. the fetid smell of the moccason had reached her, and seemed at once to rouse all her energies. she ran for some moments from side to side with her nose to the ground, and lifting the trail like a hound. she first followed it back to the tree, but there was a double trail—that by which the snake had come, as well as the one he had just made in retreating—and this for a moment puzzled her. she took the wrong trail at first, and gallopped nimbly out upon it; but, almost in the same breath, returned to the tree, and then started upon the other. "during all these manoeuvres, the snake was the moccason snake and the orioles. crawling off as fast as he could—which at best was only a very tardy gait,— for the moccason is but a slow traveller. we could see that he kept as much as possible under the grass, occasionally raising his flattened head, and glaring behind him. he was making for the cliffs, that were only about a stone's throw distant. "he had got scarce half-way, when the peccary running up the fresh trail almost trod upon him; and, seeing the object of her pursuit, she suddenly stop- ped, erected her long bristles, and uttered a shrill grunt. the snake, finding that he was overtaken, threw himself into a coil, and prepared to give battle; while his antagonist, now looking more like a great porcupine than a pig, drew back, as if to take the advantage of a run; and then halted. both for a moment eyed each other—the peccary evidently cal- culating its distance,—while the great snake seemed cowed, and quivering with affright. its appearance was entirely different from the bright semblance it had exhibited but a moment before when engaged with the birds. its eyes were less fiery, and its whole body seemed more ashy and wrinkled. "we had not many moments to observe it, for the peccary was now seen to rush forward, spring high the m ccas n snake and the orioles. into the air, and pounce down with all her feet held together upon the coils of the serpent! she imme- diately bounded back again; and, quick as thought, once more rose above her victim. the snake was now uncoiled, and writhing over the ground. another rush from the peccary—another spring— and the sharp hoofs of the animal came down upon the neck of the serpent, crushing it upon the hard turf. the body of the reptile, distended to its full length, quivered for a moment, and then lay motionless along the grass. the victor uttered another sharp cry—that seemed intended as a call to her young ones—who, emerging from the weeds where they had concealed themselves, ran nimbly forward to the spot. the battle of the cougar, etc. chapter xl. the battle of the cougar and peccaries. "frank and i were rather pleased with the result of the encounter; though i do not see why we should have taken sides with the peccary, who would have eaten the birds—could she have caught them—and their eggs, too, just as fast, as the snake would have done. and why should we have taken the part of the birds either, who, in their turn, had devoured many a butterfly as bright and beautiful as them- selves? but so it is. from time immemorial, the poor snake—who is comparatively a harmless animal, and whose deadly powers have been greatly exag- gerated—has been hated and persecuted by man more than any other creature; thus fulfilling in a remark- able manner the prophecy of the sacred book. "we began to consider what plan we should take to capture the animal. we desired very much the cougar and peccaries. living animal. we could hear the rattle of his claws in the loose bark, as he passed upward; and the pec- cary, too, seemed to have heard it, for she threw up her head with a grunt, and stood for a moment lis- tening. "' only a squirrel, perhaps!' thought she, and again resumed her occupation. "the cougar now appeared coming from behind the trunk; and, after looking cautiously about him, commenced crawling out along the branch. on reaching one of its forks, he gathered himself like a cat; and then, with a terrific scream, sprang down upon the back of his victim. his claws were buried in her neck at the first dash; and his long body covered hers—his hind-legs and tail wrapping around her. the frightened animal uttered a shrill cry, and struggled to free itself. both rolled over the ground—the peccary all the while gnashing its jaws, and continuing to send forth its strange sharp cries, until the woods echoed again. even the young ones ran around, mixing in the combat—now flung sprawl- ing upon the earth, now springing up again, snapping their little jaws, and imitating the cry of their mother. the cougar alone fought in silence. since the first wild scream, not a sound had escaped him; but from the battle of that moment his claws never relaxed their hold; and we could see that with his teeth he was silently tearing the throat of his victim. "the combat did not last long—only a few mo- ments. the peccary soon ceased to struggle, and lay upon her side—still in the embrace of her terrible adversary—who had now torn open the veins of the neck, and was, silently and cat-like, lapping the warm blood. "with all the hostility which we now felt for the cowardly cougar, we did not deem it prudent to inter- fere. we knew that he would serve us just as he was doing the peccary, if he only knew that we were so convenient to him: and we therefore remained perfectly still, not daring even to move a limb. he was not thirty yards from us, for the struggle had brought both him and his victim nearer to our tree. i could have shot him as he lay crouching in the enjoyment of his red meal; but i knew too well the the uncertainty of killing such a muscular and powerful animal with a rifle bullet; and i resolved to let him finish his feast, and take himself off if he would, without any hindrance on our part. we were not allowed much time to think about it; for the combat was hardly over, when strange voices the battle of gnashing jaws, and shrill notes, they presented a most formidable array. "the cougar, seeing that his retreat was cut off—at least, so long as he carried the carcass—flung off his burden, and leaped upon the foremost of his advanc- ing enemies, striking it to the ground with his huge paws. he had not time to turn himself, however, when several others fastened on him from behind; and we could see the red fur fly from his sides, torn up by their sharp tusks. now came the struggle in earnest. for a short while the cougar kept his antagonists at bay—striking them down and tearing them with teeth and claws; but at length the whole herd closed upon him, and we could see the blood streaming from his torn flanks. he now seemed to fight as if wishing to make his way through them and escape; but the peccaries, as active as himself, hemmed him in their midst, surrounding him with a dense mass of bodies and snapping jaws. twice or three times, the cougar sprang into the air—as if to leap beyond the circle of his antagonists—but at the same time several of these were also seen to rear upward, and intercept him iu the spring. at length, by a desperate effort, he succeeded in clearing himself; and dashed out from among them, striving the battle of were so suddenly placed. no wonder it was some momenta before i could gather resolution enough to act. "at length, however, i bethought myself that of the two enemies the cougar was certainly the worst. we were safe from the peccaries so long as we remained upon the tree, while we were at the mercy of the other, go where we would. i resolved, there- fore, to direct my energies toward the destruction of the cougar. "all this time, the latter had remained where he had first perched himself in an upper fork of the tree. he would, no doubt, have attacked us sooner had he not dreaded the peccaries below; but he feared that by springing at us he might precipitate himself among them, and this kept him for the moment quiet. i knew very well, however, that as soon as the animals at the foot of the tree should take their departure, our fate would be sealed. "my companion was unarmed. he had brought with him only his bow and arrows. these had been left at the foot of the tree, and were already crunched to pieces by the peccaries. i put him behind me, therefore, so that he should be out of the way of the cougar—in case i should only succeed in wounding besieged in a tree. hopes that the night might call off our strange hesiegers. although we could hear them below us still uttering their wild cries, and scratching against the trunk of the tree, we now paid them no more attention, but sat quietly upon our perch, confiding in the hand of providence to deliver us. "we had been seated thus but a very short while, when all at once we became conscious that there was a bitter smoke rising around us. at first we had taken it for the smoke which had been produced by the firing of the rifle, and which had hung for some time about the tree. now we knew it could not be that, for it was growing thicker and thicker, and we noticed that it had a smell very different from that of burnt powder. moreover, it produced a stifling, choking sensation, causing us to cough, and rub our eyes with the pain. on looking downward, i was unable to see either the ground or the peccaries; but i could perceive a thick cloud rising up all around the tree. i could hear the voices of the fierce brutes, loud as ever; but they appeared to be scattering outward, and their cry was different to what it had hitherto been. it now occurred to me that the moss had caught fire from the wadding of my rifle; and this soon proved to be the fact, for the smoke all at besieged in a tree. once became illuminated with a bright blaze that seemed to spread almost instantaneously over the surface of the ground. we saw that it did not fully envelope the tree, but burned on that side where we had thrown down the moss. ' my companion and i scrambled out on the branches to the opposite side—going as far as we could to avoid the smoke. we feared, all the while, that the hanging mass, or even the tree itself, might catch fire, and force us to leap into the midst of our enemies. fortunately, however, we had clean stripped those branches that hung directly over the blazing heap; and as yet the flames did not mount high enough to reach the others. "when we had crawled beyond the blinding smoke, we could distinguish the peccaries,- standing in a thick mass at some distance from the tree, and evidently somewhat terrified by the fire. 'now, thought i, 'we shall be delivered from them. they will go off far enough to enable us to escape through the smoke;' and with this intention, i commenced reconnoitring the ground in the direction in which the thick clouds were carried by the wind. i con- cluded that none of the animals had gone in this direction; and i saw that if we could leap down with- besieged in a tree. out being seen, we might make off through the trees. we were about descending upon a lower limb to carry out this purpose, when a sound like the dis- tant yelping of dogs broke upon our ears. it filled us at once with a terrible foreboding. we knew that it must be our own dogs; and we knew that harry or cudjo, or perhaps both, would be coming close upon their heels. i knew that the dogs would soon be killed by the herd, and then poor harry— he would be at once torn to pieces! this was a fearful thought, and frank and i paused a mo- ment, with palpitating hearts, to listen. yes, it was the dogs! we could hear them yelping and bark- ing at intervals, and evidently coming nearer. the next moment we could plainly distinguish voices, as of people following upon the track of the dogs. the voices could be no other than those of harry and cudjo coming in search of us. i was irresolute how to act. should i allow them to come on, and while the dogs might keep the peccaries engaged for a moment, shout out and warn them to take to the trees. it then occurred to me that i might leave frank where he was, and by making a sudden rush through the smoke, get nearer to harry and cudjo, and give them warning before the peccaries thi rew y rc i public library i a tok, besieged by peccaries. besieged in a tree. had it not been so, they would soon have suffered the fate of the cougar; for the peccaries, fiercely enraged in their short encounter with them, pursued them hotly, and surrounded the tree into which they had been lucky enough to climb. "i was now left to myself. from the position i oc- cupied i could not see hany, cudjo, or the mastiffs; but i could see the black herd that was around them. i could hear all that passed—the howling of the dogs—the voices of harry and cudjo—the vengeful notes of the peccaries, all ringing together in a wild concert. then i heard the crack of the little rifle, and i saw one of tbe animals tumble over upon the ground. i heard the shouts of cudjo, and i could see the blade of his long spear lounging down at intervals among the dark bodies below. i could see that it streamed with blood; and that numbers of the animals were falling to the earth. again came the crack of harry's rifle, again the loud barking of the dogs, and again the shouts of cudjo, as he stood upon the lowermost branches, and plied his terrible weapon. and thus for some minutes raged the battle, until i could see the ground fairly strewed with black and bleeding forms. only a few of the peccaries remained upon their feet; and these at length, becom- f f besieged in a tree. ing alarmed by the fearful slaughter of their com- panions, turned away from the tree, and fled into the thick underwood. it was plain that they were de- feated, and would not again molest us; and feeling confident of this, we all descended from our trees, and made our way to the house as quickly as we could, so as to relieve the anxiety of my wife. "although we often afterwards met a few of the peccaries in our hunting excursions, and had the fortune to capture some of their young—they never from that time offered to attack us, but always endea- voured to escape. it is the nature of this animal to fight bravely with an enemy until conquered, when it will always afterwards run at his approach. in fact, there appeared to be but one herd of them in the valley; and as that had been nearly destroyed, we found them in future both scarce and shy. "next day we returned, well armed, for our opos- sum and her young, which in our hurry we had quite forgotten. we found, to our mortification, that the cunning animal had gnawed off her fastenings, and escaped, with her whole brood. an adventure with dusky wolves. of a large rail as i ran, while cudjo hurried forward, brandishing his spear. mary, with presence of mind, turned back into the house for my rifle. "i saw that harry was foremost, and that the fierce pursuers were fast closing upon frank. this was strange, for we knew that frank was by far the best skater. we all called out to him, uttering con- fused shouts of encouragement. both were bearing themselves manfully, but frank was most in danger. the wolves were upon his heels!' god! they will devour him!' i cried in my agony, expecting the next moment to see him torn down upon the ice. what was my joy at seeing him suddenly wheel, and dart off in a new direction, with a shout of triumph! the wolves, thus nimbly eluded, now kept after harry—who in turn became the object of our anxiety. in a moment they were upon him; but he, already warned by his brother, wheeled in a similar manner; while the fierce brutes, carried along by the impetus of their race, swept to a considerable distance upon the ice before they could turn themselves. their long bushy tails, however, soon enabled them to veer round in the new direction, and they gallopped after harry, who was now the nearest to them. frank, in the meantime, had again turned, and came sweep- an adventure with dusky wolves. ice! cudjo and i ran shouting forward, and with the heavy rail and long spear commenced dealing death amongst them. it was but a short, though exciting scene. five of them were speared and drowned; while the sixth succeeded in crawling out upon the ice, and was making off, frightened enough at the cold ducking he had got. i thought he was going to escape us, but at that moment i heard the crack of a rifle from behind, and the wolf tumbled over, howling like a shot hound. on turning around, i saw harry with my rifle, which mary had brought down during the encounter, and which she had in- trusted to harry as a better marksman than her- self. the wolf was still only wounded, kicking furiously about upon the ice; but cudjo now ran out, and, after a short struggle, finished the busi- ness with his spear. "that was a day of great excitement in our little community. frank, who was the hero of the day, although he said nothing, was not a little proud of his skating feat. and well might he, as, but for his manoeuvres, poor harry would un- doubtedly have fallen a prey to the fierce wolves. taming the great elk. chapter xliii. taming the great elk. "on the third year our beavers had increased to such numbers, that we saw it was time to thin them off, and commence laying up our store of furs. they had grown so tame that they would take food from our hands. we had no difficulty, therefore, in capturing those we intended to kill, without giving alarm to the others. for this pur- pose we constructed a sort of penn, or bye-pool, with raised mud banks, near the edge of the lake, and a sluice-gate leading into it. here we were accustomed to feed the animals; and whenever a quantity of roots of the swamp sassafras was thrown into the pool, a large number of the beavers crowded into it, so that we had nothing else to do but shut down the sluice-gate, and catch them at our leisure. we accomplished all this very quietly; and as taming the great elk. none that we trapped were ever allowed to go back and 'tell the tale,' and as at all other seasons the trap was open and free, of course the surviving beavers, with all their sagacity, never knew what became of their companions, and did not even ap- pear to suspect us of foul play, but remained tame as ever. "in our first crop of skins we laid by, at least . worth, with more than . worth of 'casto- reum.' in our second year we were enabled to do still better; and the produce of that season we esti- mate at . wanting a place to dry and store our furs, we built a new log-cabin, which is the one we are now living in. the old one became our store-house. "the third year of our trapping was quite as productive as the second; and so with the fourth and fifth. each of them yielded, at least, . worth of furs and 'castoreum;' so that our old cabin now contains z. of property, which we have taken care to keep in good condition. besides, we estimate our live stock in the dam, which we can trap at any time, at . more; so that, you see, we are worth in all . at this moment. do you not think, my friends, that we have realized taming the great elk. in safety, where was the money wherewith to pur- chase these animals? i had not enough to buy either ox or ass. the people of new mexico would have laughed at me. "' let us be patient,' advised my wife. 'we are happy where we are. when the time arrives, and we are ready to go forth, trust that the hand which brought us here can and will guide us safely back again.' "with such words of consolation my noble wife always ended our conversation on that subject. "i looked upon her words as almost prophetic; and so they proved in this case, as on many other occasions. "one day—it was about the fourth year of our sojourn in the valley—we were talking on this very theme; and mary, as usual, had just expressed her firm reliance upon the hand of providence to deliver us from our strange captivity, when our conversation was interrupted by harry, who came running into the house breathless with haste, and with looks full of triumph. "' papa! mamma!' cried he; 'two elks—twoyoung elks—taken in the trap! cudjo is bringing them on in the cart,—two beautiful young elks, about as big as year-old calves.' taming the great elk. "there was nothing very new or strange in this announcement. we had captured elk in the pit-fall before; and we had several of them in our park — old ones. it was the fact of their being 'young elk,' —a sort we had not yet taken—which had put harry into an unusual state of excitement. "i thought nothing of it at the moment, but went out along with mary and the children to have a look at our new pets. "while cudjo and the boys were engaged in put- ting them into the park, all at once i remembered what i had read of, but which had hitherto escaped my memory—that the great american elk is capable of being trained as a beast either of draught or burden. "i need hardly tell you, my friends, that this thought at once led to a series of reflections. could these elk be trained to draw a wagon?—to draw us out of the desert? "i lost no time in communicating my thoughts to my wife. she, too, had read of this — in fact, in a london menagerie, had seen the elk in harness. the thing, therefore, was practicable. we resolved to use every effort to make it so. "let me not weary you, my friends, with details. catching the wild horses. chapter xliv. catching the wild horses. "we had accomplished a great object. nothing remained but to train a sufficient number of elk for our purpose. we trapped several fawns, and cudjo proceeded in breaking them as he had done the others. "at this time, however, an event occurred which verified my wife's prediction still more clearly, and proved that the hand of god was over and around us. "one morning, a little after daybreak, and just before we had risen, we were all thrown into a state of consternation by a noise that came from without. it was the trampling of hoofs—of many hoofs; and there was no difficulty in perceiving that horses were about the house. their neighing proved this— for pompo had neighed in his stable, and we could hear a dozen of them uttering their loud responses. hd widener hw sshl % the girl of the golden west david belasco ivetrina tass harvard college library the gift of howard s. matt, jr. a friend of the library nasir wa ******** masa s enance in ma she turns and faces the western hills :-“cali- fornia, my golden west” ° the girl of the golden west novelized from the play by david belasco with illustrations by j. n. marchand sowie new york dodd, mead and company alaitlilien varvard colles jun kary howard l.mot, ŷn copyright, , by dodd, mead & co. all rights reserved published, october, illustrations she turns and faces the western hills: “ california, my golden west". . frontispiece facing page “ boys ... i vouch to cloudy for mr. johnson " “mr. johnson, come down" mii. joinson, come down . . • : “this is our verdict and we are prepared to stand by it” “in those strange days, people coming from god knows where, joined forces in that far western land, and, according to the rude cus- tom of the camp, their very names were soon lost and unrecorded, and here they struggled, laughed, gambled, cursed, killed, loved and worked out their strange destinies in a manner incredible to us of to-day. of one thing only are we sure — they lived!” early history of california. i it was when coming back to the mines, after a trip to monterey, that the girl first met him. it hap- pened, too, just at a time when her mind was ripe to receive a lasting impression. but of all this the boys of cloudy mountain camp heard not a word, need- less to say, until long afterwards. lolling back on the rear seat of the stage, her eyes half closed, — the sole passenger now, and with the seat in front piled high with boxes and baskets containing rebozos, silken souvenirs, and other finery purchased in the shops of the old town,- the girl was mentally reviewing and dreaming of the delights of her week's visit there,- a visit that had been a revelation to one whose sole experience of the world had until now been derived from life in a rough min- ing camp. before her half-closed eyes still shim- mered a vista of strange, exotic scenes and people, the thronging crowds of carnivals and fêtes; the mexican girls swaying through the movements of the fandango to the music of guitars and castanets; the great rodeo with its hundreds of vaqueros, which was held at one of the ranchos just outside the town; and, lastly, and most vividly of all, the never-to-be- forgotten thrill of her first bull-fight. still ringing in her ears was the piercing note of the girl of the golden west bugle which instantly silenced the expectant throng; the hoarse roar that greeted the entrance of the bull, and the thunder of his hoofs when he made his first mad charge. she saw again, with marvellous fidel- ity, the whole colour-scheme just before the death of the big, brave beast: the huge arena in its un- rivalled setting of mountain, sea and sky; the eager multitude, tense with expectancy; the silver-mounted bridles and trappings of the horses; the ma capes of the capadors; the gaily-dressed banderil- leros, poising their beribboned barbs; the red flag and long, slender, flashing sword of the cool and ever watchful matador; and, most prominent of all to her eyes, the brilliant, gold-laced packets of the gentle- men-picadors, who, after the mexican fashion,- so she had been told, — deemed it in nowise beneath them to enter the arena in person. and so it happened that now, as the stage swung round a corner, and a horseman suddenly appeared at a point where two roads converged, and was evi- dently spurring his horse with the intent of coming up with the stage, it was only natural that, even be- fore he was near enough to be identified, the cabal- lero should already have become a part of the pag- eant of her mental picture. up to the moment of the stranger's appearance, nothing had happened to break the monotony of her long return journey towards cloudy mountain ro co girl of the golden west camp. far back in the distance now lay the mis- sion where the passengers of the stage had been hospitably entertained the night before; still further back the red-tiled roofs and whitewashed walls of the little pueblo of san jose, — a veritable bower of roses; and remotest of all, the crosses of san carlos and the great pines, oaks and cypresses, which bor- dered her dream-memory of the white-beach crescent formed by the waves of monterey bay. the dawn of each day that swept her further from her week in wonderland had ushered in the match- less spring weather of california, - the brilliant sun- shine, the fleecy clouds, the gentle wind with just a tang in it from the distant mountains; and as the stage rolled slowly northward through beautiful valleys, bright with yellow poppies and silver-white lupines, every turn of the road varied her view of the hills lying under an enchantment unlike that of any other land. yet strange and full of interest as every mile of the river country should have been to a girl accustomed to the great forest of the sierras, she had gazed upon it for the most part with unseeing eyes, while her thoughts turned, magnet-like, backward to the delights and the bewilderment of the old mexi- can town. so now, as the pursuing horseman swept rapidly nearer, each swinging stride of the powerful horse, each rhythmic movement of the graceful rider brought nearer and more vivid the vision of a hand- girl of the golden west some picador holding off with his lance a thoroughly maddened bull until the crowd roared forth its ap- preciation. “see, senorita," said the horseman, at last gal- loping close to the coach and lifting his sombrero, “ a beautiful bunch of syringa,” and then, with his face bent towards her and his voice full of appeal, he added in lower tone: “ for you!” for a brief second, the girl was too much taken back to find the adequate words with which to accept the stranger's offering. notwithstanding that in his glance she could read, as plainly as though he had spoken: “i know i am taking a liberty, but please don't be angry with me," there was something in his sweeping bow and grace of manner that, coupled with her vague sense of his social advantage, discon- certed her. a second more, however, and the em- barrassment had passed, for on lifting her eyes to his again she saw that her memory had not played her false; beyond all chance of a mistake, he was the man who, ten days earlier, had peered into the stage, as she was nearing monterey, and later, at the bull- fight, had found time to shoot admiring glances at her between his daring feats of horsemanship. therefore, genuine admiration was in her eyes and extreme cordiality in her voice when, after a word or two of thanks, she added, with great frankness: “but it strikes me sort o' forcible that i've seen girl of the golden west . you before.” then, with growing enthusiasm: “my, but that bull-fight was jest grand! you were fine! i'm right glad to know you, sir." the caballero's face flushed with pleasure at her free-and-easy reception of him, while an almost in- audible “ gracias " fell from his lips. at once he knew that his first surmise, that the girl was an american, had been correct. not that his experi- ence in life had furnished him with any parallel, for the girl constituted a new and unique type. but he was well aware that no spanish lady would have re- ceived the advances of a stranger in like fashion. it was inevitable, therefore, that for the moment he should contrast, and not wholly to her advantage, the girl's unconventionality with the enforced reserve of the dulcineas who, custom decrees, may not be courted save in the presence of duennas. but the next instant he recalled that there were, in sacra- mento, young women whose directness it would never do to mistake for boldness; and, to his credit be it said, — he was quick to perceive that, however in- different the girl seemed to the customary formality of introduction, there was no suggestion of indelicacy about her. all that her frank and easy manner sug- gested was that she was a child of nature, spontane- ous and untrammelled by the dictates of society, and normally and healthily at home in the company of the opposite sex. girl of the golden west “and she is even more beautiful than i sup- posed,” was the thought that went through his mind. and yet, the girl was not beautiful, at least if judged by spanish or californian standards. un- like most of their women, she was fair, and her type purely american. her eyes of blue were lightly but clearly browed and abundantly fringed; her hair of burnished gold was luxuriant and wavy, and framed a face of singularly frank and happy expres- sion, even though the features lacked regularity. but it was a face, so he told himself, that any man would trust, — a face that would make a man the better for looking at it, - a face which reflected a soul that no environment could make other than pure and spotless. and so there was, perhaps, a shade more of respect and a little less assurance in his man- ner when he asked: “and you like monterey ?". “i love it! ain't it romantic — an', my, what a fine time the girls there must have!” the man laughed; the girl's enthusiasm amused him. “have you had a fine trip so far?” he asked, for want of something better to say. “mercy, yes! this 'ere stage is a pokey ol' thing, but we've made not bad time, considerin'." “i thought you were never going to get here!" the girl shot a coquettish glance at him. girl of the golden west “how did you know i was comin' on this 'ere stage?" “i did not know,"— the stranger broke off and thought a moment. he may have been asking him- self whether it were best for him to be as frank as she had been and admit his admiration for her; at last, encouraged perhaps by a look in the girl's blue eyes, he ventured: “ but i've been riding along this road every day since i saw you. i felt that i must see you again." “you must like me powerful well. . . ? " this remark, far from being a question, was accom- panied with all the physiognomical evidences of an assertion. the stranger shot a surprised glance at her, out of the corner of his eye. then he admitted, in all truthfulness : “of course i do. who could help . . .?" “have you tried not to?” questioned the girl, smiling in his face now, and enjoying in the full this stolen intimacy. “ah, senorita, why should i ... ? all i know is that i do." the girl became reflective; presently she ob- served: “how funny it seems, an yet, p'r’aps not so strange after all. the boys — all my boys at the camp like me — i'm glad you do, too." girl of the golden west meanwhile the good-natured and loquaciously-in- clined driver had turned his head and was subjecting the man cantering alongside of his stage to a rigid inspection. with his knowledge of the various types of men in california at that time, he had no difficulty in placing the status of this straight-limbed, broad-shouldered, young fellow as a native califor- nian. moreover, it made no difference to him whether his passenger had met an old acquaintance or not; it was sufficient for him to observe that the lady, as well as himself — for the expression on her face could by no means be described as bored or scornful — liked the stranger's appearance; and so the better to take in all the points of the magnificent horse which the young californian was riding, not to mention a commendable desire to give his only passenger a bit of pleasant diversion on the long journey, he slowed his horse down to a walk. “but where do you live? you have a rancho near here?" the girl was now asking. “my father has — i live with him." “any sisters ?" “no,- no sisters or brothers. my mother was an american; she died a few years ago." and so saying, his glance sought and obtained an answering one full of sympathy. " i'm downright sorry for you,” said the girl with feeling; and then in the next breath she added: was girl of the golden west " but i'm pleased you're - you're half ameri- can." ore “and you, señorita ?”. “i'm an orphan — my family are all dead," re- plied the girl in a low voice. “but i have my boys,” she went on more cheerfully, “an' what more do i need?” and then before he had time to ask her to explain what she meant by the boys, she cried out: “oh, jest look at them wonderful berries over yonder! la, how i wish i could pick 'em!” "perhaps you may," the stranger hastened to say, and instantly with his free hand he made a move- ment to assist her to alight, while with the other he checked his horse; then, with his eyes resting appeal- ingly upon the driver, he inquired: “ it is possible, is it not, señor?" curiously enough, this apparently proper request was responsible for changing the whole aspect of things. for, keenly desirous to oblige him, though she was, there was something in the stranger's eyes as they now rested upon her that made her feel sud- denly shy; a flood of new impressions assailed her: she wanted to evade the look and yet foster it; but the former impulse was the stronger, and for the first time she was conscious of a growing feeling of restraint. indeed, some inner voice told her that it would not be quite right for her to leave the stage. true, she belonged to cloudy mountain camp cas girl of the golden west ii turned to speak, but the tender, sorrowful expression that she saw on the young man's face kept her silent. “that is one of my father's men,” he said, some- what solemnly. “his presence here may mean that i must leave you. the road to our ranch begins there. i fear that something may be wrong." the girl shot him a look of sympathetic inquiry, though she said nothing. to tell the truth, the first thought that entered her mind at his words was one of concern that their companionship was likely to cease abruptly. during the silence that preceded his outspoken premonition of trouble, she had been studying him closely. she found herself admiring: his aquiline features, his olive-coloured skin with its: healthful pallor, the lazy, black spanish eyes behind which, however tranquil they generally were, it was easy for her to discern, when he smiled, that reck- less and indomitable spirit which appeals to women all the world over. as the stage approached the motionless horseman, the young man cried out to the vaquero, for such he was, and asked in spanish whether he had a message for him; an answer came back in the same language, the meaning of which the girl failed to comprehend. a moment later her companion turned to her and said: “ it is as i feared." once more a silence fell upon them. for a half women ' girl of the golden west mile or so, apparently deep in thought, he continued to canter at her side; at last he spoke what was in his mind. “i hate to leave you, señorita," he said. in an instant the light went out of the girl's eyes, and her face was as serious as his own when she re- plied: “well, i guess i ain't particularly crazy to have you go neither.” the unmistakable note of regret in the girl's voice flattered as well as encouraged him to go further and ask: “will you think of me some time?" the girl laughed. “what's the good o' my thinkin' o' you? i seen you talkin' with them gran' monterey ladies an' i guess you won't be thinkin' often o' me. like 's not by to-morrow you'll ’ave clean forgot me," she said with forced carelessness. “i shall never forget you," declared the young man with the intense fervour that comes so easily to the men of his race. at that a half-mistrustful, half-puzzled look crossed the girl's face. was this handsome stranger finding her amusing? there was almost a resentful glitter in her eyes when she cried out: “i 'mos' think you're makin' fun o' me!” “no, i mean every word that i say," he hastened girl of the golden west em as to assure her, looking straight into her eyes where he could scarcely have failed to read something which the girl had not the subtlety to conceal. “oh, i guess i made you say that!" she returned, making a child-like effort to appear to disbelieve him. the stranger could not suppress a smile; but the next moment he was serious, and asked: “and am i never going to see you again? won't you tell me where i can find you?” once more the girl was conscious of a feeling of embarrassment. not that she was at all ashamed of being “the girl of the polka saloon,” for that never entered her mind; but she suddenly realised that it was one thing to converse pleasantly with a young man on the highway and another to let him come to her home on cloudy mountain. only too well could she imagine the cool reception, if it stopped at that, that the boys of the camp there would accord to this stylish stranger. as a conse- quence, she was torn by conflicting emotions: an overwhelming desire to see him again, and a dread of what might happen to him should he descend upon cloudy mountain with all his fine airs and graces. “i guess i'm queer —"she began uncertainly and then stopped in sudden surprise. too long had she delayed her answer. already the stage had left con girl of the golden west him some distance behind. unperceived by her a shade of annoyance had passed over the californi- an's face at her seeming reluctance to tell him where she lived. the quick of his spanish pride was touched; and with a wave of his sombrero he had pulled his horse down on his haunches. of no avail now was her resolution to let him know the where- abouts of the camp at any cost, for already his “adios, señorita," was sounding faintly in her ears. with a little cry of vexation, scarcely audible, the young woman flung herself back on the seat. she was only a girl with all a girl's ways, and like most of her sex, however practical her life thus far, she was not without dreams of a romance. this meet- ing with the handsome caballero was the nearest she had come to having one. true, there was scarcely a man at cloudy but what had tried at one time or another to go beyond the stage of good comrade- ship; but none of them had approached the idealistic vision of the hero that was all the time lying dormant in her mind. of course, being a girl, and almost a queen in her own little sphere, she accepted their rough homage in a manner that was befitting to such an exalted personage, and gave nothing in return. but now something was stirring within her of which she knew nothing; a feeling was creeping over her that she could not analyse; she was conscious only of the fact that with the departure of this attractive s girl of the golden west . stranger, who had taken no pains to conceal his ad- miration for her, her journey had been robbed of all its joy. a hundred yards further on, therefore, she could not resist the temptation to put her head out of the stage and look back at the place where she had last seen him. he was still sitting quietly on his horse at the place where they had parted so unceremoniously, his face turned in her direction - horse and rider sil- houetted against the western sky which showed a crimson hue below a greenish blue that was sapphire further from the horizon. ii not until a turn of the road hid the stage from sight did the stranger fix his gaze elsewhere. even then it was not easy for him, and there had been a moment when he was ready to throw everything to the winds and follow it. but when on the point of doing so there suddenly flashed through his mind the thought of the summons that he had received. and so, not unlike one who had come to the conclusion that it was indeed a farewell, he waved his hand re- signedly in the direction that the stage had taken and, calling to his vaquero, he gave his horse a thrust of the long rowel of his spur and galloped off towards the foothills of the sierras. for some miles the riders travelled a road which wound through beautiful green fields; but master and man were wholly indifferent, seeing neither the wild flowers lining each side of the road nor the sycamores and live oaks which were shining overhead from the recent rains. in the case of the young man every foot of the way to his father's rancho was familiar. all hours of the day and night he had made the trip to the highway, for with the exception of the few years that had been given to his education in foreign lands, his whole life had been passed on the rancho. scarcely less acquainted with the road than his young girl of the golden west : is e master was the vaquero, so neither gave a glance at the country through which they were passing, but. side by side took the miles in silence. an hour passed with the young man still wrapt in thought. the truth was, though he was scarcely ready to admit it, he had been hard hit. in more ways than one the girl had made a deep impression on him. not only had her appearance awakened his interest to the point of enthusiasm, but there was something irresistibly attractive to him in her lack of affectation and audacious frankness. over and over again he thought of her happy face, her straightfor- ward way of looking at things and, last but not least, her evident pleasure in meeting him. and when he reflected on the hopelessness of their ever meeting again, a feeling of depression seized him. but his nature — always a buoyant one — did not permit him to remain downcast very long. by this time they were nearing the foothills. a little while longer and the road that they were trav- elling became nothing more than a bridle path. in- deed, so dense did the chaparral presently become that it would have been utterly impossible for one unacquainted with the way to keep on it. animal life was to be seen everywhere. at the approach of the riders innumerable rabbits scurried away; quail whirred from bush to bush; and, occasionally, a deer broke from the thickets. ver girl of the golden west at the end of another hour of hard riding they were forced to slacken their pace. in front of them the ground could be seen, in the light of a fast disap- pearing moon, to be gradually rising. another mile or two and vertical walls of rock rose on each side of them; while great ravines, holding mountain tor- rents, necessitated their making a short detour for the purpose of finding a place where the stream could ibe safely forded. even then it was not an easy task on account of the boulder-enclosing whirlpools whose waters were whipped into foam by the wind that swept through the forest. at a point of the road where there was a break in the chaparral, a voice suddenly cried out in spanish: “who comes ? " “follow us !" was the quick answer without draw- ing rein; and, instantly, on recognition of the young master's voice, a mounted sentinel spurred his horse out from behind an overhanging rock and closed in behind them. and as they were challenged thus sev- eral times, it happened that presently there was quite a little band of men pushing ahead in the darkness that had fallen. and so another hour passed. then, suddenly, there sprung into view the dark outlines of a low structure which proved to be a corral, and finally they made their way through a gate and came upon girl of the golden west. a long adobe house, situated in a large clearing and having a kind of courtyard in front of it. in the centre of this courtyard was what evidently had once been a fountain, though it had long since dried up. around it squatted a group of vaqueros, all smoking cigarettes and some of them lazily twist- ing lariats out of horsehair. close at hand a dozen or more wiry little mustangs stood saddled and bri- dled and ready for any emergency. in colour, one or two were of a peculiar cream and had silver white manes, but the rest were greys and chestnuts. it was evident that they had great speed and bottom. all in all, what with the fierce and savage faces of the men scattered about the courtyard, the remoteness of the adobe, and the care taken to guard against sur- prise, old bartolini's hacienda was an establishment not unlike that of the feudal barons or a nest of ban- ditti according to the point of view. at the sound of the fast galloping horses, every man on the ground sprang to his feet and ran to his horse. for a second only they stood still and list- ened intently; then, satisfied that all was well and that the persons approaching belonged to the rancho, they returned to their former position by the foun- tain — all save an indian servant, who caught the bridle thrown to him by the young man as he swung himself out of the saddle. and while this one led his horse noiselessly away, another of the same race girl of the golden west preceded him along a corridor until he came to the maestro's room. old ramerrez bartolini, or ramerrez, as he was known to his followers, was dying. his hair, pure white and curly, was still as luxuriant as when he was a young man. beneath the curls was a patrician, spanish face, straight nose and brilliant, piercing, black eyes. his gigantic frame lay on a heap of stretched rawhides which raised him a few inches from the floor. this simple couch was not necessa- rily an indication of poverty, though his property had dwindled to almost nothing, for in most spanish adobes of that time, even in some dwellings of the very rich, there were no beds. over him, as well as under him, were blankets. on each side of his head, fixed on the wall, two candles were burning, and al- most within reach of his hand there stood a rough altar, with crucifix and candles, where a padre was making preparations to administer the last sacra- ments. in the low-studded room the only evidence reinain- ing of prosperity were some fragments of rich and costly goods that once had been piled up there. in former times the old spaniard had possessed these in profusion, but little was left now. indeed, whatever property he had at the present time was wholly in cattle and horses, and even these were comparatively, iisi few. girl of the golden west there had been a period, not so very long ago at that, when old ramerrez was a power in the land. in all matters pertaining to the province of alta cal- ifornia his advice was eagerly sought, and his opin- ion carried great weight in the councils of the span- iards. later, under the mexican regime, the re- spect in which his name was held was scarcely less; but with the advent of the americanos all this was changed. little by little he lost his influence, and nothing could exceed the hatred which he felt for the race that he deemed to be responsible for his down- fall. it was odd, in a way, too, for he had married an american girl, the daughter of a sea captain who had visited the coast, and for many years he had held her memory sacred. and, curiously enough, it was be- cause of this enmity, if indirectly, that much of his fortune had been wasted. fully resolved that england — even france or russia, so long as spain was out of the question — should be given an opportunity to extend a protecto- rate over his beloved land, he had sent emissaries to europe and supplied them with moneys — far more than he could afford — to give a series of lavish en- tertainments at which the wonderful richness and fer- tility of california could be exploited. at one time it seemed as if his efforts in that direction would meet with success. his plan had met with such favour girl of the golden west from the authorities in the city of mexico that gov- ernor pico had been instructed by them to issue a grant for several million of acres. but the united states government was quick to perceive the hidden meaning in the extravagances of these envoys in lon- don, and in the end all that was accomplished was the hastening of the inevitable american occupation. from that time on it is most difficult to imagine the zeal with which he endorsed the scheme of the native californians for a republic of their own. he was a leader when the latter made their attack on the americans in sonoma county and were repulsed with the loss of several killed. one of these was ramer- rez' only brother, who was the last, with the excep- tion of himself and son, of a proud, old, spanish family. it was a terrible blow, and increased, if possible, his hatred for the americans. later the old man took part in the battle of san pasquale and the mesa. in the last engagement he was badly wounded, but even in that condition he announced his intention of fighting on and bitterly denounced his fellow-officers for agreeing to surrender. as a mat- ter of fact, he escaped that ignominy. for, taking advantage of his great knowledge of the country, he contrived to make his way through the american lines with his few followers, and from that time may be said to have taken matters into his own hand. is. girl of the golden west old ramerrez was conscious that his end was merely a matter of hours, if not minutes. over and over again he had had himself propped up by his at- tendants with the expectation that his command to bring his son had been obeyed. no one knew better than he how impossible it would be to resist another spasm like that which had seized him a little while after his son had ridden off the rancho early that morning. yet he relied once more on his iron con- stitution, and absolutely refused to die until he had laid upon his next of kin what he thoroughly believed to be a stern duty. deep down in heart, it is true, he was vaguely conscious of a feeling of dread lest his cherished revenge should meet with opposition; but he refused to harbour the thought, believing, not unnaturally, that, after having imposed his will upon others for nearly seventy years, it was extremely un- likely that his dying command should be disobeyed by his son. and it was in the midst of these death- bed reflections that he heard hurried footsteps and knew that his boy had come at last. when the latter entered the room his face wore an agonised expression, for he feared that he had ar- rived too late. it was a relief, therefore, to see his father, who had lain still, husbanding his little re- maining strength, open his eyes and make a sign, which included the padre as well as the attendants, that he wished to be left alone with his son. m girl of the golden west “ art thou here at last, my son ? " said the old man the moment they were alone. “ay, father, i came as soon as i received your message.” “ come nearer, then, i have much to say to you, and i have not long to live. have i been a good father to you, my lad?” the young man knelt beside the couch and kissed his father's hand, while he murmured an assent. at the touch of his son's lips a chill struck the old man's heart. it tortured him to think how little the boy guessed of the recent history of the man he was bending over with loving concern; how little he di- vined of the revelation that must presently be made to him. for a moment the dying man felt that, after all, perhaps it were better to renounce his vengeance, for it had been suddenly borne in upon him that the boy might suffer acutely in the life that he intended him to live; but in another moment he had taken him- self to task for a weakness that he considered must have been induced by his dying condition, and he sternly banished the thought from his mind. “my lad," he began, “you promise to carry out my wishes after i am gone?". “ay, father, you know that i will. what do you wish me to do?" the old man pointed to the crucifix. “you swear it?" girl of the golden west s are with solicitude. “they are unscrupulous — many of them, but all are not so." “bah!” ejaculated the old man; “ the gringos are all alike. i hate them all, i -" the old man was unable to finish. he gasped for breath. but de- spite his son's entreaties to be calm, he presently cried out: “do you know who you are?” and not wait- ing for a reply he went on with: “our name is one of the proudest in spain — none better! the curse of a long line of ancestors will be upon you if you tamely submit — not make these americans suffer for their seizure of this, our rightful land — our beautiful california !” more anxiously than ever now the son regarded his father. his inspection left no doubt in his mind that the end could not be far off. with great ear- nestness he implored him to lie down; but the dying man shook his head and continued to grow more and more excited. “do you know who i am ?” he demanded. “no— you think you do, but you don't. there was a time when i had plenty of money. it pleased me greatly to pay all your expenses — to see that you received the best education possible both at home and abroad. then the gringos came. little by lit- tle these cursed americanos have taken all that i had from me. but as they have sown so shall they reap. girl of the golden west i have taken my revenge, and you shall take more!" he paused to get his breath; then in a terrible voice he cried: “yes, i have robbed — robbed! for the last three years, almost, your father has been a bandit !" the son sprang to his feet. “a bandit? you, father, a ramerrez, a ban- dit?” “ay, a bandit, an outlaw, as you also will be when i am no more, and rob, rob, rob, these americanos. it is my command and—you — have — sworn ..." the son's eyes were rivetted upon his father's face as the old man fell back, completely exhausted, upon his couch of rawhides. with a strange conflict of emotions, the young man remained standing in si- lence for a few brief seconds that seemed like hours, while the pallor of death crept over the face before him, leaving no doubt that, in the solemnity of the moment his father had spoken nothing but the literal truth. it was a hideous avowal to hear from the dying lips of one whom from earliest childhood he had been taught to revere as the pattern of spanish honour and nobility. and yet the thought now up- permost in young ramerrez's mind was that oddly enough he had not been taken by surprise. never by a single word had any one of his father's follow- ers given him a hint of the truth. so absolute, so feudal was the old man's mastery over his men that girl of the golden west not a whisper of his occupation had ever reached his son's ears. nevertheless, he now told himself that in some curious, instinctive way, he had known,- or rather, had refused to know, putting off the hour of open avowal, shutting his eyes to the accumulating facts that day by day had silently spoken of lawless- ness and peril. three years, his father had just said; well, that explained how it was that no suspicions had ever awakened until after he had completed his ed- ucation and returned home from his travels. but since then a child must have noted that something was wrong: the grim, sinister faces of the men, con- stantly on guard, as though the old hacienda were in a state of siege; the altered disposition of his father, always given to gloomy moods, but lately doubly si- lent and saturnine, full of strange savagery and smouldering fire. yes, somewhere in the back of his mind he had known the whole, shameful truth; had known the purpose of those silent, stealthy ex- cursions, and equally silent returns, and more than once the broken heads and bandaged arms that co- incided so oddly with some new tale of a daring hold- up that he was sure to hear of, the next time that he chanced to ride into monterey. for three years, young ramerrez had known that sooner or later he would be facing such a moment as this, called upon to make the choice that should make or mar him for life. and now, for the first time he realised why w girl of the golden west he had never voiced his suspicions, never questioned, never hastened the time of decision, - it was because even now he did not know which way he wished to decide! he knew only that he was torn and racked by terrible emotions, that on one side was a mighty impulse to disregard the oath he had blindly taken and refuse to do his father's bidding; and on the other, some new and unguessed craving for excite- ment and danger, some inherited lawlessness in his blood, something akin to the intoxication of the arena, when the thunder of the bull's hoofs rang in his ears. and so, when the old man's lips opened once more, and shaped, almost inaudibly, the solemn words: “you have sworn,” the scales were turned and the son bowed his head in silence. a moment later and the room was filled with men who fell on their knees. on every face, save one, there was an expression of overwhelming grief and despair; but on that one, ashen grey as it was with the agony of approaching death, there was a look of contentment as he made a sign to the padre that he was now ready for him to administer the last rites of his church. iii the polka saloon! how the name stirs the blood and rouses the im- agination! no need to be a forty-niner to picture it all as if there that night: the great high and square room lighted by candles and the warm, yellow light of kerosene lamps; the fireplace with its huge logs blazing and roaring; the faro tables with the little rings of miners around them; and the long, pine bar behind which a typical barkeeper of the period was busily engaged in passing the bottle to the men clamorous for whisky in which to drink the health of the girl. and the spirit of the place! when and where was there ever such a fine fellowship — transform- ing as it unquestionably did an ordinary saloon into a veritable haven of good cheer for miners weary after a long and often discouraging day in the gulches? in a word, the polka was a marvellous tribute to its girl-proprietor's sense of domesticity. nothing that could insure the comfort for her patrons was omitted. nothing, it would seem, could occur that would disturb the harmonious aspect of the scene. but alas! the night was yet young. girl of the golden west now the moment for which not a few of that good-humoured and musically-inclined company were waiting arrived. clear above the babel of voices sounded a chord, and the poor old concertina player began singing in a voice that was as wheezy as his instrument: “ camp town ladies sing this song dooda! dooda! camp town race track five miles long dooda! dooda! day!” throughout the solo nothing more nerve-racking or explosive than an occasional hilarious whoop punctuated the melody. for once, at any rate, it seemed likely to go the distance; but no sooner did the chorus, which had been taken up, to a man, by the motley crowd and was rip-roaring along at a great rate, reach the second line than there sounded the reports of a fusillade of gun-shots from the di- rection of the street. the effect was magical: every voice trailed off into uncertainty and then ceased. instantly the atmosphere became charged with tension; a hush fell upon the room, the joyous light of battle in every eye, if nothing else, attesting the approach of the foe; while all present, after listen- ing contemptuously to a series of wild and unearthly yells which announced an immediate arrival, sprang girl of the golden west to their feet and concentrated their glances on the entrance of the saloon through which there presently burst a party of lively boys from the ridge. a psychological moment followed, during which the occupants of the polka saloon glared fiercely at the newcomers, who, needless to say, returned their hostile stares. the chances of war, judging from past performances, far outnumbered those of peace. but as often happens in affairs of this kind when neither side is unprepared, the desire for gun-play gave way to mirthless laughter, and, presently, the hilarious crowd from the rival camp, turning abruptly on their heels, betook themselves en masse into the dance-hall. for the briefest of periods, there was a look of keen disappointment on the faces of the cloudy mountain boys as they gazed upon the receding figures of their sworn enemies; but almost in as little time as it takes to tell it there was a tumultuous lin- ing up at the bar, the flat surface of which soon resounded with the heavy blows dealt it by the fists of the men desirous of accentuating the rhythm when roaring out: “ gwine to run all night, gwine to run all day, bet my money on a bob-tail nag, somebody bet on the bay!” girl of the golden west among those standing at the bar, and looking out of bleared eyes at a flashy lithograph tacked upon the wall which pictured a spanish woman in short skirts and advertised “espaniola cigaroos,” were two miners: one with curly hair and a pink-and- white complexion; the other, tall, loose-limbed and good-natured looking. they were known respect- ively as handsome charlie and happy halliday, and had been arguing in a maudlin fashion over the relative merits of spanish and american beauties. the moment the song was concluded they banged their glasses significantly on the bar; but since it was an unbroken rule of the house that at the close of the musician's performance he should be rewarded by a drink, which was always passed up to him, they needs must wait. the little barkeeper paid no at- tention to their demands until he had satisfied the thirst of the old concertina player who, presently, could be seen drawing aside the bear-pelt curtain and passing through the small, square opening of the partition which separated the polka saloon from its dance-hall. “not goin', old dooda day, are you?” the question, almost a bellow, which, needless to say, was unanswered, came from sonora slim who, with his great pal trinidad joe, was playing faro at a table on one side of the room. apparently, both were losing steadily to the dealer whose chair, placed girl of the golden west nora now up against the pine-boarded wall, was slightly raised above the floor. this last individual was as fat and unctuous looking as his confederate, the look- out, was thin and sneaky; moreover, he bore the sobriquet of the sidney duck and, obviously, was from australia. “say, what did the last eight do?” sonora now asked, turning to the case-keeper. “lose." “well, let the tail go with the hide,” returned sonora, resignedly. “and the ace — how many times did it win?" inquired trinidad. "four times," was the case-keeper's answer. all this time a full-blooded indian with long, blue-black hair, very thick and oily, had been watch- ing the game with excited eyes. his dress was part indian and part american, and he wore all kinds of imitation jewelry including a huge scarf-pin which flashed from his vivid red tie. furthermore, he pos- sessed a watch, - a large, brassy-looking article, — which he brought out on every possible occasion. when not engaged in helping himself to the dregs that remained in the glasses carelessly left about the room, he was generally to be found squatted down on the floor and playing a solitaire of his own de- vising. but now he reached over sonora's shoul- wa answer. vi girl of the golden west der and put some coins on the table in front of the dealer. “give billy jackrabbit fer two dolla' mexican chip,” he demanded in a guttural voice. the sidney duck did as requested. while he was shuffling the cards for a new deal, the players beat time with their feet to the music that floated in from the dance-hall. the tune seemed to have an unusually exhilarating effect on happy halliday, for letting out a series of whoops he staggered off to- wards the adjoining room with the evident intention of getting his fill of the music, not forgetting to yell back just before he disappeared: “ root hog or die, boys !”. happy's boisterous exit caused a peculiar expres- sion to appear immediately on handsome's face, which might be interpreted as one of envy at his friend's exuberant condition; at all events, he pro- ceeded forthwith to order several drinks, gulping them down in rapid succession. meanwhile, at the faro table, the luck was going decidedly against the boys. in fact, so much so, that there was a dangerous note in sonora's voice when, presently, he blurted out: “see here, gambolier sid, you're too lucky!”. “you bet!" approved trinidad, and then added: “more chips, australier!” girl of the golden west ence was i but trinidad's comment, as well as his request, only brought forth the oily smile that the sidney duck always smiled when any reference was made to his game. it was his policy to fawn upon all and never permit himself to think that an insult was in- tended. so he gathered in trinidad's money and gave him chips in return. for some seconds the men played on without anything disturbing the game ex- cept the loud voice of the caller of the wheel-of- fortune in the dance-hall. but the boys were to hear something more from there besides, “round goes the wheell” for, all at once there came to their ears the sounds of an altercation in which it was not difficult to recognise the penetrating voice of happy halliday. “now, git, you loafer!” he was saying in tones that left no doubt in the minds of his friends that happy was hot under the collar over something. a shot followed. “missed, by the lord harry!” ejaculated happy, deeply humiliated at his failure to increase the mortuary record of the camp. the incident, however, passed unnoticed by the faro players; not a man within sound of the shot, for that matter, inquired what the trouble was about; and even nick, picking up his tray filled with glasses and a bottle, walked straightway into the dance-hall girl of the golden west looking as if the matter were not worth a moment's thought. at nick's going the indian's face brightened; it gave him the opportunity for which he had been waiting. nobly he maintained his reputation as a thief by quietly going behind the bar and lifting from a box four cigars which he stowed away in his pockets. but even that, apparently did not satisfy him, for when he espied the butt of a cigar, aung into the sawdust on the floor by a man who had just come in, he picked it up before squatting down again to resume his card playing. the newcomer, a man of, say, forty years, came slowly into the room without a word of salutation to anyone. in common with his fellow-miners, he wore a flannel shirt and boots. the latter gave every evidence of age as did his clothes which, never- theless, were neat. his face wore a mild, gentle look and would have said that he was companionable enough; yet it was impossible not to see that he was not willingly seeking the cheer of the saloon but came there solely because he had no other place to go. in a word, he had every appearance of a man down on his luck. men were continually coming in and going out, but no one paid the slightest attention to him, even though a succession of audible sighs escaped his lips. girl of the golden west . at length he went over to the counter and took a sheet or two of the paper, which was kept there for the few who desired to write home, – a quill- pen and ink; and picking up a small wooden box he seated himself upon it before a desk — which had been built from a rude packing-case — and began wearily and laboriously to write. “the lone star now rises!” it was the stentorian voice of the caller of the wheel-of-fortune. one would have thought that the sound would have had the effect of a thunder-clap upon the figure at the desk; but he gave no sign what- ever of having heard it; nor did he see the suspicious glance which nick, entering at that moment, shot at billy jackrabbit who was stealing noiselessly towards the dance-hall where the whoops were becoming so frequent and evincing such exuberance of spirits that the ubiquitous, if generally unconcerned, nick felt it incumbent to give an explanation of them. “boys from the ridge cuttin' up a bit,” he ten- dered apologetically, and took up a position at the end of the bar where he could command a view of both rooms. as a partial acknowledgment that he had heard nick's communication, sonora turned round slightly in his seat at the faro table and shot a glance towards the dance-hall. contempt showed on his rugged w mm girl of the golden west features when he turned round again and addressed the stocky, little man sitting at his elbow. “well, i don't dance with men for partners ! when i shassay, trin, i want a feminine piece of flesh an' blood ”— he sneered, and then went on to amplify —“with garters on." “you bet!" agreed his faithful, if laconic pal, on feeling the other's playful dig in his ribs. the subject of men dancing together was a never- ceasing topic of conversation between these two cronies. but whatever the attitude of others sonora knew that trinidad would never fail him when it came to nice discriminations of this sort. his refer- ence to an article of feminine apparel, however, was responsible for his recalling the fact that he had not as yet received his daily assurance from the presid- ing genius of the bar that he stood well in the estima- tion of the only lady in the camp. therefore, leav- ing the table, he went over to nick and whispered: “has the girl said anythin' about me to-day, nick?” now the rôle of confidential adviser to the boys was not a new one to the barkeeper, nor was any- one in the camp more familiar than he with their good qualities as well as their failings. every morning before going to work in the placers it was their custom to stop in at the polka for their first was dr was girl of the golden west was man drink — which was, generally,“ on the house." in- variably, nick received them in his shirt-sleeves,– for that matter he was the proud possessor of the sole “ biled shirt " in the camp,— and what with his red flannel undershirt that extended far below the line of his cuffs, his brilliantly-coloured waistcoat and tie, and his hair combed down very low in a cow- lick over his forehead, he was indeed an odd little figure of a man as he listened patiently to the boys' grievances and doled out sympathy to them. on the other hand, absolutely devoted to the fair pro- prietress of the saloon,—though solely in the char- acter of a good comrade, — he never ceased trying to advance her interests; and since one and all of her customers believed themselves to be in love with her, one of his most successful methods was to flatter each one in turn into thinking that he had made a tremendous impression upon her. it was not a diffi- cult thing to do inasmuch as long custom and repeti- tion had made him an adept at highly-coloured lying. “well, you got the first chance," asseverated nick, dropping his voice to a whisper. sonora grinned from ear to ear; he expanded his broad chest and held his head proudly; and waving his hand in lordly fashion he sung out: “ cigars for all hands and drinks, too, nick!" the genial prevaricator could scarcely restrain girl of the golden west himself from laughing outright as he watched the other return to his place at the faro table; and when, in due course, he served the concoctions and passed around the high-priced cigars, there was a smile on his face which said as plainly as if spoken that so- nora was not the only person present that had reason to be pleased with himself. then occurred one of those terpsichorean per- formances which never failed to shock old sonora's sense of the fitness of things. for the next moment two ridge boys, dancing together, waltzed through the opening between the two rooms and, letting out ear-piercing whoops with every rotation, whirled round and round the room until they brought up against the bar where they, breathlessly, called for drinks. an angry lull fell upon the room; the card game stopped. however, before anyone seated there could give vent to his resentment at this boisterous intrusion of the men from the rival camp, the smooth, oily and inviting voice of the unprincipled sidney duck, scenting easy prey because of their inebriated condition, called out in its cockney accent: “ 'ello, boys — 'ow's things at the ridge ?" “wipes this camp off the earth!" returned a voice that was provocative in the extreme - a reply that instantly brought every man at the faro table to his feet. for a time, at least, it seemed as if the girl of the golden west boys from the ridge would get the trouble they were looking for. a murmur of angry amazement arose, while sonora, his watery blue eyes glinting, followed up his explosive, “what!" with a suggestive movement towards his hip. but quick as he was nick was still quicker and had the ridge boy, as well as sonora, covered before their hands had even reached their guns. “you . . .!" the little barkeeper's sentence was bristled out and contained along with the exple- tives some comparatively mild words which gave the would-be combatants to understand that any such foolishness would not be tolerated in the polka unless he himself “ 'lowed it to be ne'ssary.” not unnaturally the ridge boys failed to see any- thing offensive in language that had a gun behind it; and realising the futility of any further attempt to get away with a successful disturbance they wisely yielded to superior quickness at the draw. with a whoop of resignation they rushed back to the dance- hall where the voice of the caller was exhorting the gents — whose partners were mostly big, husky, hairy-faced men clumsily enacting parts generally assigned to members of the gentler sex — to swing: “with the right-hand gent, first partner swing with the left-hand gent, first partner swing with the girl of the golden west, isici linen duster, his face half-blacked, and banjo in hand, acknowledged the words of welcome with a broad grin as he stood bowing in the centre of the room. that jake wallace was a typical camp minstrel from the top of his dusty stove-pipe hat to the sole of his flapping negro shoes, one could see with half an eye as he made his way to a small platform - a musician's stand — at one end of the bar; nor could there be any question about his being a prudent one, for the musician did not seat himself until he had carefully examined the sheet-iron shield inside the railing, which was attached in such a way that it could be sprung up by working a spring in the floor and render him fairly safe from a chance shot dur- ing a fracas. “my first selection, friends, will be "the lit- tle – announced the minstrel with a smile as he begun to tune his instrument. “aw, give us 'old dog tray,'” cut in sonora, impatiently from his seat at the card table. jake bowed his ready acquiescence to the request and kept right on tuning up. “i say, nick, have you saw the girl?” asked trinidad in a low voice, taking advantage of the interval to stroll over to the bar. mysteriously, nick's eyes wandered about the room to see if anyone was listening; at length, with marvellous insincerity, he said: scene girl of the golden west . “you've got the first chance, trin; i gave 'er your message." trinidad joe fairly beamed upon him. “whisky for everybody, nick!” he ordered bumptuously; and as before the little barkeeper's face wore an expression of pleasure not a whit less than that of the man whom, presently, he followed to the faro table with a bottle and four glasses. as soon as trinidad had seated himself the min- strel struck a chord and announced impressively: "old dog tray,' gents,' or echoes from home'!" he cleared his throat, and the next instant in quaver- ing tones he warbled: “ how of-ten do i pic-ture the old folks down at home, and of-ten wonder if they think of me, would an-gel mother know me, if back there i did roam, would old dog tray re-member me." at the first few words of his song the man at the desk who, up to this time, had been wholly oblivious to what was taking place, arose from his seat, put the ink-bottle back on the bar, opened a cigar-box there and took from it a stamp, which he put on his letter. this he carried to a mail-box attached to the door; then, returning, he threw himself dejectedly down in girl of the golden west a chair and put his head in his hands, where it re- mained throughout the song. at the conclusion of his solo, the minstrel's emo- tions were seemingly deeply stirred by his own melo- dious voice and he gasped audibly; whereupon, nick came to his relief with a stiff drink which, apparently, went to the right spot, for presently the singer's voice rang out vigorously: “now, boys!” no second invitation was needed, and the chorus was taken up by all, the singers beating time with their feet and chips. all. “oh, mother, an-gel mother, are you waitin' there beside the lit-tle cottage on the lea-" jake. “on the lea—" all. “how often would she bless me in all them days so fair — would old dog tray re-member me —” sonora. “re-member me.” all the while the miners had been singing, the sad and morose-looking individual had been steadily growing more and more disconsolate; and when girl of the golden west . sonora rumbled out the last deep note in his big, bass voice, he heaved a great sob and broke down completely. in surprised consternation everyone turned in the direction from whence had come the sound. but it was sonora who, affected both by the pathos of the song and the sight of the pathetic figure before them, quietly went over and laid a hand upon the other's arm. “why, larkins — jim — what's the trouble — what's the matter?” he asked, a thousand thoughts fluttering within his breast. “i wouldn't feel so bad.” with a desperate effort larkins, his face twitch- ing perceptibly, the lines about his eyes deepening, struggled to control himself. at last, after taking in the astonished faces about him, he plunged into his tale of woe. “say, boys, i'm homesick — i'm broke — and what's more, i don't care who knows it.” he paused, his fingers opening and closing spasmodically, and for a moment it seemed as if he could not continue - a moment of silence in which the minstrel began to pick gently on his banjo the air of old dog tray. “i want to go home!” suddenly burst from the unfortunate man's lips. “i'm tired o' drillin' rocks; i want to be in the fields again; i want to see the grain growin'; i want the dirt in the furrows at home; girl of the golden west i want old pensylvanny; i want my folks; i'm done, boys, i'm done, i'm done. . . .!" and with these words he buried his face in his hands. “oh, mother, an-gel mother, are you waitin' —” sang the minstrel, dolefully. men looked at one another and were distressingly, affected; the polka had never witnessed a more pain- ful episode. throwing a coin at the minstrel, sonora stopped him with an impatient gesture; the latter nodded understandingly at the same time that nick, apparently indifferent to larkin's collapse, be- gan to dance a jig behind the bar. a look of scowl- ing reproach instantly appeared on sonora's face. it was uncalled-for since, far from being heartless and indifferent to the man's misfortunes, the little barkeeper had taken this means to distract the miner's attention from the pitiful sight. “boys, jim larkins 'lows he's goin' back east," announced sonora. “ chip in every mother's son o you." immediately every man at the faro table demanded cash from the sidney duck; a moment later they, as well as the men who were not playing cards, threw their money into the hat which sonora passed around. it was indeed a well-filled hat that sonora held out to the weeping man. “here you are, jim,” he said simply. girl of the golden west tu the sudden transition from poverty to compara- tive affluence was too much for larkins! looking through tear-dimmed eyes at sonora he struggled for words with which to express his gratitude, but they refused to come; and at last with a sob he turned away. at the door, however, he stopped and choked out: “ thank you, boys, thank you." the next moment he was gone. at once a wave of relief swept over the room. indeed, the incident was forgotten before the un- fortunate man had gone ten paces from the polka, for then it was that trinidad suddenly rose in his seat, lunged across the table for the sidney duck's card-box, and cried out angrily: “you're cheatin'l that ain't a square deal! you're a cheat!" in a moment the place was in an uproar. every man at the table sprung to his feet; chairs were kicked over; chips flew in every direction; guns came from every belt; and so occupied were the men in watch- ing the sidney duck that no one perceived the look- out sneak out through the door save nick, who was returning from the dance-hall with a tray of empty glasses. but whether or not he was aware that the australian's confederate was bent upon running away he made no attempt to stop him, for in com- mon with every man present, including sonora and trinidad, who had seized the gambler and brought girl of the golden west him out in front of his card-table, nick's eyes were fastened upon another man whom none had seen enter, but whose remarkable personality, now as often, made itself felt even though he spoke not a word. “lift his hand!” cried sonora, looking as if for sanction at the newcomer, who stood in the centre of the room, calmly smoking a huge cigar. forcing up the sidney duck's arms, trinidad threw upon the table a deck of cards which he had found concealed about the other's person, bursting out with: “there! look at that, the infernal, good-for- nothin' cheat!” “string 'im up!” suggested sonora, and as be- fore he shot a questioning look at the man, who was regarding the scene with bored interest. “you bet!” shouted trinidad, pulling at the australian's arm. “for 'eaven's sake, don't, don't, don't!" wailed the sidney duck, terror-stricken. the sheriff of manzaneta county, for such was the newcomer's office, raised his steely grey eyes in- quisitorially to nick's who, with a hostile stare at the australian, emitted: “ chicken lifter!” “string 'im! string 'im!” insisted trinidad, at the same time dragging the culprit towards the door. girl of the golden west “no, boys, no!” cried the unfortunate wretch, struggling uselessly to break away from his captors. at this stage the sheriff of manzaneta county took a hand in the proceedings, and drawled out: “well, gentlemen -" he stopped short and seemingly became reflective. instantly, as was their wont whenever the sheriff spoke, all eyes fixed themselves upon him. indeed, it needed but a second glance at this cool, deliberate individual to see how great was his influence upon them. he was tall, — fully six feet one,- thin, and angular; his hair and moustache were black enough to bring out strongly the unhealthy pallor of his face; his eyes were steel grey and were heavily fringed and arched; his nose straight and his mouth hard, determined, but just, the lips of which were thin and drawn tightly over brilliantly- white teeth; and his soft, pale hands were almost feminine looking except for the unusual length of his fingers. on his head was a black beaver hat with a straight brim; a black broadcloth suit — cut after the “ 'frisco " fashion of the day — gave every evi- dence that its owner paid not a little attention to it. from the bosom of his white, puffed shirt an enor- mous diamond, held in place by side gold chains, flashed forth; while glittering on his fingers was another stone almost as large. below his trousers could plainly be seen the highly-polished boots; the o- girl of the golden west heels and instep being higher than those generally in use. in a word, it was impossible not to get the im- pression that he was scrupulously immaculate and careful about his attire. and his voice — the voice that tells character as nothing else does — was smooth and drawling, though fearlessness and sincerity could easily be detected in it. such was mr. jack rance, gambler and sheriff of manzaneta county. “this is a case for you, jack rance," suddenly spoke up sonora. “yes," chimed in trinidad; and then as he gave the australian a rough shake, he added: “here's the sheriff to take charge of you." but mr. jack rance, the sheriff of manzaneta county, was never known to move otherwise than slowly, deliberately. taking from his pocket a smoothly-creased handkerchief he proceeded to dust languidly first one and then the other of his boots; and not until he had succeeded in flicking the last grain of dust from them did he take up the business in hand. “gentlemen, what's wrong with the cyards ?” he now began in his peculiar drawling voice. sonora pointed to the faro table. “ the sidney duck's cheated!” he said — an ac- cusation which was responsible for a renewal of out- cries and caused a number of men to pounce upon the faro dealer. girl of the golden west trinidad ran a significant hand around his collar. “string 'im! come on, you —!” once more he cried. but on seeing the sheriff raise a restraining hand he desisted from pulling the australian along. “wait a minute !" commanded the sheriff. the miners with the prisoner in their midst stood stock-still. now the sheriff's features lost some of their usual inscrutability and for a moment became hard and stern. slowly he let his eyes wander com- prehensively about the saloon: first, they travelled to a small balcony — reached by a ladder drawn down or up at will — decorated with red calico curtains, garlands of cedar and bittersweet, while the railing was ornamented with a wildcat's skin and a stuffed fawn's head; from the ceiling with its strings of red peppers, onions and apples they fell on a stuffed griz- zly bear, which stood at the entrance to the dance- hall, with a little green parasol in its paw and an old silk hat upon its head; from it they shifted to the gaudy bar with its paraphernalia of fancy glasses, show-cases of coloured liquors and its pair of scales for weighing the gold dust; and from that to a keg, the top of which could be withdrawn without en- gendering the slightest suspicion that it represented other than an ordinary receptacle for liquor. two notices tacked upon the wall also caught and held his glance, his eyes dwelling most affectionately on the one reading: “a real home for the boys." girl of the golden west that there was such a thing as sentiment in the make-up of the sheriff of manzaneta county few people, perhaps, would have believed. neverthe- less, at the thought that this placard inspired, he dis- missed whatever inclination he might have had to deal leniently with the culprit, and calmly observed: “there is no reason, gentlemen, of being in a hurry. i've got something to say about this. i don't forget, although i am the sheriff of manzan- eta county, that i'm running four games. but it's men like the sidney duck here that casts reflections on square-minded, sporting men like myself. and worse — far worse, gentlemen, he casts reflections on the polka, the establishment of the one decent woman in cloudy." “you bet!" affirmed nick, indignantly. “yes, a lady, d'you hear me? " stormed sonora, addressing the prisoner; then: “you lily-livered skunk!” "oh, let's string 'im up!” urged trinidad. “yes, come on, you ...!" was hand- some's ejaculation, contriving, at last, to get his hands on the faro dealer. but again the sheriff would have none of it. “hold on, hold on —” he began and paused to philosophise: “ after all, gents, what's death? a kick and you're off;” and then went on: “ i've thought of a worse punishment. give him his coat." girl of the golden west surprised and perplexed at this order, handsome, reluctantly, assisted the culprit into his coat. “put him over there," the sheriff now ordered. whereupon, obedient to the instructions of that personage, the sidney duck was roughly put down into a chair; and while he was firmly held into it, rance strolled nonchalantly over to the faro table and picked out a card from the deck there. return- ing, he quickly plucked a stick-pin from the prisoner's scarf, saying, while he suited his action to his words: “see, now i place the deuce of spades over his heart as a warning. he can't leave the camp, and he never plays cyards again -- see?” and while the men, awed to silence, stood looking at one an- other, he instructed handsome to pass the word through the camp. "ow, now, don't si that! don't si that!” bawled out the card sharp. the sentence met with universal approval. rance waved an authoritative hand towards the door; and the incident, a few seconds later, passed into its place in the camp records. albeit, in those seconds, and while the men were engrossed in the agreeable task of ejecting the sidney duck, the polka harboured another guest, no less unwelcome, who made his way unobserved through the saloon to become an unob- trusive spectator of the doings in the dance-hall. iv in the space of six months one can do little or much harm. the young bandit,- for he had kept his oath to his father,— flattered himself that he had done much. in all the mining camps of the sierras the mere mention of the name of ramerrez brought forth execrations. not a stage started out with its precious golden freight without its passengers hav- ing misgivings that they would be held up before reaching sacramento. messengers armed with shot- guns were always to be found at their post beside the drivers; yet, despite all precautions, not a week passed without a report that the stage out of this or that camp, had been attacked and the passengers forced to surrender their money and valuables. un- der no circumstances, however, were any of ramer- rez's own countrymen molested. if, by any chance, the road agent made a mistake and stopped a party of native californians or mexicans, they were at once permitted to proceed on their way with the ban- dit-leader's profuse apologies. but it was altogether different with americans. the men of that race were compelled to surrender their gold; although so far as he was concerned, their women were exempt from robbery. as a mat- ter of fact, he had few chances to show his chivalry, hen girl of the golden west cii since few women were living, at that time, in the sierras. nevertheless, it happened in rare instances that a stage was held up which contained one or two of them, and they were never known to complain of his treatment. and so far, at least, he had con- trived to avoid any serious bloodshed. two or three messengers, it is true, had been slightly wounded; but that was the most that his worst en- emies could charge against him. as for ramerrez's own attitude towards the life he was leading, it must be confessed that, the plunge once taken, his days and nights were too full of ex- citement and adventure to leave him time to brood. somewhat to his own surprise, he had inherited his father's power of iron domination. young as he was, not one of his father's seasoned band of cut- throats ever questioned his right or his ability to com- mand. at first, no doubt, they followed him through a rude spirit of loyalty; but after a short time it was because they had found in him all the qualities of a leader of men, one whose plans never miscarried. fully two-thirds of the present band were vassals, as it were, in his family, while all were of spanish or mexican descent. in truth, ramerrez himself was the only one among them who had any gringo blood in his veins. and hence not a tale of the outlaw's doings was complete without the narrator insisting upon it that the leader of the band — the road agent girl of the golden west himself — closely resembled an american. one and all of his victims agreed that he spoke with an american accent, while the few who had been able to see his features on a certain occasion when the red bandanna, which he wore about his face, had fallen, never failed to maintain that he looked like an american. as a matter of fact, ramerrez not only bore the imprint of his mother's race in features and in speech, but the more he made war upon them, the more he realised that it was without any real feeling of hos- tility. in spite of his early training and in spite of his oath, he could not share his father's bitterness. true, the gringos had wrecked the fortunes of his house; it was due to them that his sole inheritance was an outlaw's name and an outlaw's leadership, and yet, despite it all, there was another fact that he could not forget, — the fact that he himself was one half gringo, one half the same race as that of the unforgotten girl whom he had met on the road to sacramento. indeed, it had been impossible to forget her, for she had stirred some depth in him, the existence of which he had never before suspected. he was haunted by the thought of her attractive face, her blue eyes and merry, contagious laugh. for the hundredth time he recalled his feelings on that glorious day when he had intercepted her on the great highway. and with this memory would come was girl of the golden west a sudden shame of himself and occupation,- a re- alisation of the barrier which he had deliberately put between the present and the past. up to the hour when he had parted from her, and had remained spellbound, seated on his horse at the fork of the roads, watching the vanishing coach up to the last minute, he was still a spanish gentleman, still worthy in himself, — whatever his father had done, — to of- fer his love and his devotion to a pure and honest girl. but now he was an outlaw, a road agent going from one robbery to another, likely at any time to stain his hand with the life-blood of a fellow man. and this pretence that he was stealing in a righteous cause, that he was avenging the wrongs that had been done to his countrymen,- why, it was the rank- est hypocrisy! he knew in his heart that vengeance and race hatred had nothing whatever to do with it. it was because he loved it like a game, a game of un- foreseen, unguessed danger. the fever of it was in his blood, like strong drink,- and with every day's adventure, the thirst for it grew stronger. yet, however personally daring, ramerrez was the last person in the world to trust to chance for his operations, more than was absolutely necessary. he handled his men with shrewd judgment and strict discipline. furthermore, never was an attack made that was not the outcome of a carefully matured plan. a prime factor in ramerrez' success had from the girl of the golden west first been the information which he was able to ob- tain from the mexicans, not connected with his band, concerning the places that the miners used as tem- porary depositories for their gold; and it was infor- mation of this sort that led ramerrez and his men to choose a certain mexican settlement in the moun- tains as a base of operations: namely, the tempting fact that a large amount of gold was stored nightly in the polka saloon, at the neighbouring camp on cloudy mountain. and there was still another reason. despite the fact that his heart had been genuinely touched by the many and unusual attractions of the girl, it is not intended to convey the idea that he was austere or incapable of passion for anyone else. for that was not so. although, to give the bandit his due, he had remained quite exemplary, when one con- siders his natural charm as well as the fascination which his adventurous life had for his country- women. unfortunately, however, in one of his weak moments, he had foolishly permitted himself to become entangled with a mexican woman — nina micheltoreña, by name — whose jealous nature now threatened to prove a serious handicap to him. it was a particularly awkward situation in which he found himself placed, inasmuch as this woman had furnished him with much valuable information. in fact, it was she who had called his attention to the woman- om girl of the golden west probable spoils to be had in the american camp near by. it can readily be imagined, therefore, that it was not without a premonition of trouble to come that he sought the mexican settlement with the in- tention of paying her a hundred-fold for her val- uable assistance in the past and then be through with her for good and all. the mexican or greaser settlements had little in them that resembled their american neighbours. in the latter there were few women, for the long dis- tance that the american pioneers had to travel be- fore reaching the gold-fields of california, the hard- ships that they knew had to be encountered, deterred them from bringing their wives and daughters. but with the mexicans it was wholly different. the number of women in their camps almost equalled that of the men, and the former could always be seen, whenever the weather permitted, strolling about or sitting in the doorways chatting with their neighbours, while children were everywhere. in fact, everything about the mexican settlements con veyed the impression that they had come to stay — a decided contrast to the transient appearance of the camps of the americans. it was one evening late in the fall that ramerrez and his band halted just outside of this particular mexican settlement. and after instructing his men girl of the golden west where they should meet him the following day, he sent them off to enjoy themselves for the night with their friends. for, ramerrez, although exercising restraint over his band, never failed to see to it that they had their pleasures as well as their duties — a trait in his character that had not a little to do with his great influence over his men. and so it hap- pened that he made his way alone up the main street to the hall where a dance was going on. the scene that met his eyes on entering the long, low room was a gay one. it was a motley crowd gathered there in which the mexicans, not unnatu- rally, predominated. here and there, however, were native californians, frenchmen, germans and a few americans, the latter conspicuous by the absence of colour in their dress; for with the exception of an occasional coatless man in a red or blue shirt, they wore faded, old, black coats,— frequently frock- coats, at that, which certainly contrasted unfavour- ably, at least so far as heightening the gaiety of the scene was concerned, with the green velvet jackets, brilliant waistcoats with gold filigree and silver but- tons and red sashes of the mexicans. that there was not a man present but what was togged out in his best and was armed, it goes without saying, even if the weapons of the mexicans were in the form of murderous knives concealed somewhere about their girl of the golden west persons instead of belts with guns and knives openly displayed, as was the case with the americans. at the time of the outlaw's entrance into the dance-hall the fandango was over. but presently the fiddles, accompanied by guitars, struck up a waltz, and almost instantly some twenty or more men and women took the floor; those not engaged in dancing surrounding the dancers, clapping their hands and shouting their applause. in order to see if the woman he sought was present, it was neces- sary for ramerrez to push to the very front of the crowd of lookers-on, where he was not long in ob- serving that nearly all the women present were of striking appearance and danced well; likewise, he noted, that none compared either in looks or grace with nina micheltoreña who, he had to acknowl- edge, even if his feelings for her were dead, was a superb specimen of a woman. good blood ran in the veins of nina michelto- reña. it is not in the province of this story to tell how it was that a favourite in the best circles of monterey came to be living in a mexican camp in the sierras. suffice it to say that her fall from grace had been rapid, though her dissolute career had in no way diminished her beauty. indeed, her features were well-nigh perfect, her skin transparently clear, if dark, and her form was suppleness itself as she girl of the golden west s s danced. and that she was the undisputed belle of the evening was made apparent by the number of men who watched her with eyes that marvelled at her grace when dancing, and surrounded her when- ever she stopped, each pleading with her to accept him as a partner. almost every colour of the rainbow had a place in her costume for the occasion: the bodice was of light blue silk; the skirt orange; encircling her small waist was a green sash; while her jet-black hair was fastened with a crimson ribbon. diamonds flashed from the earrings in her ears as well as from the rings on her fingers. all in all, it was scarcely to be wondered at that her charms stirred to the very depths the fierce passion of the desperate characters about her. that ramerrez dreaded the interview which he had determined to have with his confederate can easily be understood by anyone who has ever tried to sever his relations with an enamoured woman. in fact the outlaw dreaded it so much that he de- cided to postpone it as long as he could. and so, after sauntering aimlessly about the room, and com- ing, unexpectedly, across a woman of his acquaint- ance, he began to converse with her, supposing, all the time, that nina micheltoreña was too occupied with the worshippers at her shrine to perceive that he was in the dance-hall. but it was decidedly a case girl of the golden west move was of the wish being father to the thought: not a movement had he made since he entered that she was not cognisant of it and, although she hated to ac- knowledge it to herself, deep down in her heart she was conscious that he was not as thoroughly under the sway of her dark eyes as she would have wished. something had happened in the last few weeks that had brought about a change in him, but just what it was she was unable to determine. there were mo- ments when she saw plainly that he was much more occupied with his daring plans than he was with thoughts of her. so far, it was true, there had been no evidences on his part of any hesitation in confid- ing his schemes to her. of that she was positive. but, on the other hand, she had undoubtedly lost some of her influence over him. it did not lessen her nervousness to realise that he had been in the hall for some time without making any effort to see her. besides, the appointment had been of his own mak- ing, inasmuch as he had sent word by one of his band that she should meet him to-night in this place. furthermore, she knew that he had in mind one of the boldest projects he had yet attempted and needed, to insure success, every scrap of knowledge that she possessed. in the meantime, while she waited for him to seek her out, she resolved to show him the extent of her power to fascinate others; and from that moment never had she seemed more girl of the golden west - - -- attractive and alluring to her admirers, in all of whom she appeared to excite the fiercest of passions. in fact, one word whispered in an ear by those voluptuous lips and marvellously sweet, musical voice, and the recipient would have done her bidding, even had she demanded a man's life as the price of her favour. it is necessary, however, to single out one man as proving an exception to this sweeping assertion, al- though this particular person seemed no less devoted than the other men present. he was plainly an american and apparently a stranger to his country- men as well as to the mexicans. his hair was white and closely cropped, the eyebrows heavy and very black, the lips nervous and thin but denoting great determination, and the face was tanned to the colour of old leather, sufficiently so as to be noticeable even in a country where all faces were tanned, swarthy, and dark. one would have thought that this big, heavy, but extremely-active man whose clothes, not- withstanding the wear and tear of the road, were plainly cut on “ 'frisco " patterns, was precisely the person calculated to make an impression upon a woman like nina micheltoreña; and, yet, oddly enough, he was the only man in the room whose at- tentions seemed distasteful to her. it could not be accounted for on the ground of his nationality, for she danced gladly with others of his race. nor did race. girl of the golden west it look like caprice on her part. on the contrary, there was an expression on her face that resembled something like fear when she refused to be cajoled into dancing with him. at length, finding her ada- mant, the man left the room. but as time went by and still ramerrez kept aloof, nina micheltoreña's excitement began to increase immeasureably. to such a woman the outlaw's neglect could mean but one thing — another woman. and, finally, unable to control herself any longer, she made her way to where the woman with whom ramerrez had been conversing was standing alone. “what has the señor been saying to you ? " she demanded, jealousy and ungovernable passion blaz- ing forth from her eyes. “nothing of interest to you," replied the other with a shrug of her shoulders. “it's a lie!” burst from nina's lips. “i heard him making love to you! i was standing near and heard every tone, every inflection of his voice! i saw how he looked at you!” and so crazed was she by jealousy that her face became distorted and almost ugly, if such a thing were possible, and her great eyes filled with hatred. the other woman laughed scornfully. “make your man stay away from me then — if you can," she retorted. wom girl of the golden west . at that the infuriated nina drew a knife and cried: “swear to me that you'll not see him to-night, or " the sentence was never finished. quick as light- ning ramerrez stepped in and caught nina's up- raised arm. for one instant her eyes aashed fire at him; another, and submissive to his will, she slipped the knife somewhere in the folds of her dress and the attention that she had succeeded in attracting was diverted elsewhere. those who had rushed up ex- pecting a tragedy returned, once more, to their dancing. “i have been looking for you, nina,” he said, tak- ing her to one side. “i want to speak with you." nina laughed airily, but only another woman would have been able to detect the danger lurking in that laugh. “have you just come in?" she inquired casually. “ it is generally not difficult to find me when there is dancing." and then with a significant smile: “but perhaps there were so many men about me that i was completely hidden from the view of the señor." ramerrez bowed politely his belief in the truth of her words; then he said somewhat seriously: “i see a vacant table over in the corner where we can talk without danger of being overheard. come!” he led the way, the woman following lerrez girl of the golden west him, to a rough table of pine at the farther end of the room where, immediately, a bottle and two glasses were placed before them. when they had pledged each other, ramerrez went on to say, in a low voice, that he had made the appointment in order to de- liver to her her share for the information that led to his successful holdup of the stage at a place known as “ the forks," a few miles back; and taking from his pocket a sack of gold he placed it on the table be- fore her. there was a silence in which nina made no move- ment to pick up the gold; whereupon, ramerrez re- peated a little harshly: “your share.” slowly the woman rose, picking up the sack as she did so, and with a request that he await her, she made her way over to the bar where she handed it to the mexican in charge with a few words of instruc- tion. in another moment she was again seated at the table with him. "why did you send for me to meet you here?” she now asked. “why did you not come to my room — surely you knew that there was danger here?" carelessly, ramerrez let his eyes wander about the room; no one was paying the slightest attention to them and, apparently, there being nothing to fear, he answered: girl of the golden west “from whom?”. for a brief space of time the woman looked at him as if she would ferret out his innermost thoughts; at length, she said with a shrug of the shoulders: “ few here are to be thoroughly trusted. the woman you were with — she knows you ? " “i never met her but once before," was his la- conic rejoinder. nina eyed him suspiciously; at last she was satis- fied that he spoke the truth, but there was still that cold, abstracted manner of his to be explained. however, cleverly taking her cue from him she in- quired in business-like tones: “and how about the polka saloon — the raid on cloudy mountain camp?" a shade of annoyance crossed ramerrez' face. “i have decided to give that up — at least for a time.” again nina regarded him curiously; when she spoke there was a suspicious gleam in her eyes, though she said lightly: "perhaps you're right - it will not be an easy job." “far from it,” quickly agreed the man. “but the real reason is, that i have planned to go below for a while." the woman's eyes narrowed. girl of the golden west "but to-night," she hazarded, leaning far over the table and putting her face close to his, her eyes the while fooded with voluptuousness, "you will come with me to my room?" ramerrez shook his head. “no, nina, all that is over." the woman bit her lips with vexation. “are you made of stone? what is the matter with you to-night? is there anything wrong with my beauty? have you seen anyone handsomer than i am?" “no . . ." “then why not come? you don't hate ?" “i don't hate you in the least, but i won't go to your room." “so!” there was a world of meaning in that one word. for a while she seemed to be reflecting; suddenly with great earnestness she said: "once for all, ramerrez, listen to me. rather than give you up to any other woman i will give you up to death. now do you still refuse me?" “yes. ..." answered ramerrez not unkindly and wholly unmoved by her threat. “we've been good pals, nina, but it's best for both that we should part.” in the silence that ensued the woman did some hard thinking. that a man could ever tire of her girl of the golden west woman ever once without some other woman coming into his life never once entered into her mind. something told her, nevertheless, that the woman with whom he had been conversing was not the woman that she sought; and at a loss to discover the person to whom he had transferred his affections, her mind reverted to his avowed purpose of withdrawing from the proposed cloudy mountain expedition. the more nina re- flected on that subject the more convinced she be- came that, for some reason or other, ramerrez had been deceiving her. it was made all the more clear to her when she recalled that when ramerrez' mes- senger had brought his master's message that she was to meet him, she had asked where the band's next rendezvous was to be, and that he, knowing full well that his countrywoman had ever been cognizant of his master's plans, had freely given the desired in- formation. like a flash it came to her now that no such meeting-place would have been selected for any undertaking other than a descent upon cloudy moun- tain camp. nor was her intuition or reasoning at fault: ramerrez had not given up his intention of getting the miners' gold that he knew from her to be packed away somewhere in the polka saloon; but what she did not suspect, despite his peculiar be- haviour, was that he had taken advantage of the proximity of the two camps to sever his relation, business and otherwise, with her. and yet, did he girl of the golden west a sr but know it, she was destined to play no small part in his life for the next few weeks ! nina micheltoreña had now decided upon her fu- ture course of action: she would let him think that his desire to break off all relations with her would not be opposed. ever a keen judge of men and their ways, she was well aware that any effort to re- claim him to-night would meet with disaster. and so when ramerrez, surprised at her long silence, looked up, he was met with a smiling face and the words: “so be it, ramerrez. but if anything happens, remember you have only yourself to blame." ramerrez was astounded at her cool dismissal of the subject. to judge by the expression on his face he had indeed obtained his release far easier than he had deemed it possible. as a matter of fact, her in- difference so piqued him that before he was conscious of his words he had asked somewhat lamely: “you wish me well? we part as friends ?". nina regarded him with well-simulated surprise, and replied: “why, of course — the best of friends. good luck, amigo!" and with that she rose and left him. and so it was that later that evening after assuring herself that neither ramerrez nor any of his band remained in the dance-hall, nina, her face set and pale, exchanged a few whispered words with that girl of the golden west sa however, another horseman appeared, and laughing boisterously at themselves they slid their guns back into their belts and retied their horses, for the man whom they recognised so quickly, the individual who saved the situation, as it were, was none other than jose castro, an ex-padrona of the bull-fights and the second in command to ramerrez. he was a wiry, hard-faced and shifty-eyed mexican, but was as thor- oughly devoted to ramerrez as he had been to the young leader's father. on the other hand, the man who had caused them to fear that a stranger had sur- prised them, and that they had been trapped, was ramerrez or johnson — the name that he had as- sumed for the dangerous work he was about to en- gage in — and they had failed to know him, dressed as he was in the very latest fashion prevailing among the americans in sacramento in ' . nor was it to be wondered at, for on his head was a soft, brown hat — large, but not nearly the proportions of a sombrero; a plain, rough tweed coat and a waistcoat of a darker tan, which showed a blue flannel shirt be- neath it; and his legs were encased in boots topped by dark brown leggings. in a word, his get-up re- sembled closely the type of american referred to disdainfully by the miners of that time as a sacra- mento guy; whereas, the night before he had taken great pains to attire himself as gaudily as any of the mexicans at the dance, and he had worn a short black girl of the golden west . jacket of a velvety material that was not unlike cor- duroy and covered with braid; his breeches were of the same stuff; above his boots were leather gaiters; and around his waist was a red sash. it was now close to four o'clock in the afternoon and the band began their preparations for the raid. to the rear of the small, open space where they had been waiting was a fairly good-sized cave, in the opening of which they deposited various articles un- necessary for the expedition. it took only a short time to do this, and within half an hour from the time that their leader had so startled them by his strange appearance, the outlaws were ready to take the trail for cloudy mountain. one comprehensive glance the psuedo-american — and he certainly looked the part — shot at his picturesque, if rough- looking followers, not a few of whom showed red bandannas under their sombreros or around their necks — and then with a satisfied expression on his face — for he had a leader's pride in his men — he gave the signal and led the way along and down the steep trail from the tableland. and as from time to time he glanced back over his shoulders to where the men were coming along in single file, he could see that in every eye was a glint of exultation at the prospect of booty. after they had gone about three miles they crossed the black ravine, and from there they began ive girl of the golden west wav to ascend. up and up they went, the path very hard on the horses, until finally they came to the top of a pass where it had been arranged that the band should await further instructions, none going on further save the two leaders. here, saddle-girths and guns were inspected, the last orders given, and with a wave of the hand in response to the muttered wishes of good luck, johnson, — for as such he will be known from this time on,- followed by castro, made his way through the forest towards cloudy mountain. for an hour or so johnson rode along in that di- rection, checking the speed of his horse every time the sun came into view and showed that there was yet some time before sunset. presently, he made a sign to castro to take the lead, for he had never been in this locality before, and was relying on his subordi- nate to find a spot from which he could reconnoitre the scene of the proposed raid without the slightest danger of meeting any of the miners. at a very sharp turn of the road to the left castro struck off through the forest to the right and, within a few minutes, reached a place where the trees had thinned out and were replaced by the few scrubs that grew in a spot almost barren. a minute or so more and the two men, their horses tied, were able to get an uninterrupted view of cloudy mountain. the scene before them was one of grandeur. day was giving place to night, fall to winter, and yet at girl of the golden west yes this hour all the winds were stilled. in the distance gleamed the snow-capped sierras, range after range as far as the eye could see to the northwest; in the opposite direction there stood out against the steel- blue of the sky a succession of wooded peaks ever rising higher and higher until culminating in the far- away white mountains of the south; and below, they looked upon a ravine that was brownish-green until the rays of the departing orb touched the leaves with opal tints. now the fast-falling sun flung its banner of gor- geous colours across the western sky. immediately a wonderful light played upon the fleecy cumuli gath- ered in the upper heavens of the east and changed them from pearl to brilliant scarlet. for a moment, also, the purple hills became wonderful piles of dull gold and copper; a moment more and the magic hand of the king of day was withdrawn. in front of them now, dark, gloomy and threaten- ing rose cloudy mountain, from which the mining camp took its name; and on a plateau near its base the camp itself could plainly be seen. it consisted of a group of miners' cabins set among pines, firs and manzaneta bushes with two larger pine-slab buildings, and scattered around in various places were shafts, whose crude timber-hoists appeared merely as vague outlines in the fast-fading light. the distance to the camp from where they stood een. girl of the golden west was oc tow een was not over three miles as the crow flies, but it ap- peared much less in the rarefied atmosphere. as the two bandits stood on the edge of the preci- pice looking across and beyond the intervening gulch or ravine, here and there a light twinkled out from the cabins and, presently, a much stronger illumina- tion shot forth from one of the larger and more pre- tentious buildings. castro was quick to call his mas- ter's attention to it. “there — that place with the light is the pal- metto hotell" he exclaimed. “and over there — the one with the larger light is the polka saloon!" for even as he spoke the powerful kerosene lamp of the polka saloon, flanked by a composition metal reflector, flashed out its light into the gloom en- veloping the desolate, ominous-looking mountains. johnson regarded this building long and thought- fully. then his eyes made out a steep trail which zigzagged from the polka saloon up the barren slopes of the mountain until it reached a cabin perched on the very top, the steps and porch of which were held up by poles made of trees. there, also, a light could be seen, but dimly. it was a strange place for anyone to erect a dwelling-place, and he found himself wondering what manner of person dwelt there. of one thing he was certain: whoever it was the mountains were loved for them- selves, for no mere digger of gold would think of girl of the golden west erecting a habitation in view of those strange, vast, and silent heights! and as he meditated thus, he perceived that the far off sierras were forming a background for a sinuous coil of smoke from the cabin. for some time he: watched it curling up into the great arch of sky. it was as if he were hypnotised by it and, in a vague, · shadowy way, he had a sense of being connected, - somehow, with the little cabin and its recluse. was this feeling that he had a premonition of danger? was this a moment of foreboding and distrust of the situation yet to be revealed? for like most ven- turesome men he always had a moment before every one of his undertakings in which his instinct either urged him forward or held him back. suddenly he became conscious that his eyes no longer saw the smoke. he stared hard to glimpse it, but it was gone. and with a supreme effort he wrenched himself free from a sort of paralysis which was stealing away his senses. now the light in the cabin disappeared, and since the shades of night, for which he had been waiting, had fallen, he called to the impatient and wondering castro, and together they went back to the trail. but even as they crossed the gulch and reached the outskirts of the camp a great white moon rose from behind the sierras. to castro, hidden now girl of the golden west in the pines, it meant nothing so long as it did not interfere with his purpose. as a matter of fact he was already listening intently to the bursts of song and shouts of revelry that came every now and then from the nearby saloon. but his master, un- accountably under the spell of the moon's mystery and romance, watched it until it shed its silvery and magic light upon the lone cabin on the top of cloudy mountain, which fate had chosen for the decisive scene of his dramatic life. girl of the golden west “renzo, boys, renzo," finished trinidad, falling in place at the table. at this point the outside door wås unexpectedly. pushed open, inward, and the deputy-sheriff came into their midst. “ashby just rode in with his posse,” he announced huskily to his superior. the sheriff flashed a look of annoyance and in- quired of the gaunt, hollow-cheeked, muscular deputy whose beaver overcoat was thrown open so that his gun and powder-flask showed plainly in his belt: “why, what's he doing here?” “he's after ramerrez," answered the deputy, eyeing him intently. rance received this information in silence and went on with his shuffling of the cards; presently, uncon- cernedly, he remarked: “ramerrez — oh, that's the polite road agent who has been visiting the other camps?”. “yes; he's just turned into your county," de- clared the deputy, meaningly. “what?” sonora looked dumbfounded. the deputy nodded and proceeded to the bar. and while he drained the contents of his glass, the minstrel played on his banjo, much to the amuse- ment of the men, who showed their appreciation by laughing heartily, the last bars of, “pop goes the weasel.” girl of the golden west “hello, sheriff !” greeted ashby, coming in just as the merriment over the minstrel's little joke had died away. ashby's voice — quick, sharp and de- cisive — was that of a man accustomed to ordering men, but his manner was suave, if a trifle gruff. moreover, he was a man of whom it could be said, paradoxical as it may seem, that he was never known to be drunk nor ever known to be sober. it was plain from his appearance that he had been some time on the road. rance rose and politely extended his hand. and, although the greeting between the two men was none too cordial, yet in their look, as they eyed each other, was the respect which men have for others en- gaged more or less in the same business and in whom they recognise certain qualities which they have in common. in point of age ashby was, perhaps, the senior. as far as reputation was concerned, both men were accounted nervy and square. rance in- troduced him to sonora and the others, saying: “ boys, mr. ashby of wells fargo." the latter had a pleasant word or two for the men; then, turning to the deputy, he said: “ and how are you these days ? " “fit. and yourself?”. “same here.” turning now to the barkeeper, ashby, with easy familiarity, added: “say, nick, give us a drink.” girl of the golden west “sure!" came promptly from the little bar- keeper. “ everybody 'll have the same?” inquired ashby, turning once more to the men. “the same !" returned the men in chorus. thereupon, nick briskly slapped down a bottle and four glasses before the sheriff, and leaving him to do the honours, disappeared into the dance-hall. “well, i trust the girl who runs the polka is well ? " inquired ashby, pushing his glass near the bottle. “ fine as silk," vouched sonora, adding in the next breath: “but, say, mr. ashby, how long you been chasin' up this road agent?". "oh, he only took to the road a few months ago," was ashby's answer. “wells fargo have had me and a posse busy ever since. he's a wonder!”. “must be to evade you," complimented sonora, much to the discomfort of the sheriff. “yes, i can smell a road agent in the wind," de- clared ashby somewhat boastfully. “but, rance, i expect to get that fellow right here in your county." the sheriff looked as if he scouted the idea, and was about to speak, but checked the word on his tongue. then followed a short silence in which the deputy, smiling a trifle derisively, went out of the saloon. "is this fellow, a spaniard?" questioned the girl of the golden west sheriff, drawling as usual, but at the same time jerk- ing his thumb over his shoulder towards a placard on the wall, which read: “five thousand dollars re- ward for the road agent ramerrez, or information leading to his capture. (signed) wells fargo.” “no— can't prove it. the fact of his leading a crew of greasers and spaniards signifies nothing. his name is assumed, i suppose.” “they say he robs you like a gentleman," re- marked rance with some show of interest. “well, look out for the greasers up the road!” was ashby's warning as he emptied his glass and put it down before him. “we don't let them pass through here," shrugged rance, likewise putting down his glass on the table. ashby now picked up the whisky bottle and car- ried it over to the deserted faro table before which he settled himself comfortably in a chair. “well, boys, i've had a long ride — wake me up when the pony express goes through!” he called over his shoulder as he put his coat over him. but no sooner was he comfortably ensconced for a snooze than nick came bustling in with a kettle of boiling water and several glasses half-filled with girl of the golden west ra whisky and lemon. stopping before ashby he said in his best professional manner: “re-gards of the girl — hot whisky straight with lemming extract." ashby took up his glass, as did, in turn, the men at the other table. but it was rance who, with arm uplifted, toasted: “the girl, gentlemen, the only girl in camp, the girl i mean to make mrs. jack rance!”. confident that neither would catch him in the act, nick winked first at sonora and then at trinidad. that the little barkeeper was successful in making the former, at least, believe that he possessed the girl's affections was manifested by the big miner's next remark. "that's a joke, rance. she makes you look like a chinaman." rance sprang to his feet, white with rage. “you prove that!” he shouted. “in what particular spot will you have it?" taunted sonora, as his hand crept for his gun. simultaneously every man in the room made a dash for cover. nick ducked behind the bar, for, as he told himself when safely settled there, he was too old a bird to get anywhere near the line of fire when two old stagers got to making lead fly about. nor was trinidad slow in arriving at the other end of the bar where he caromed against jake, who had girl of the golden west dropped his banjo and was frantically trying to kick the spring of the iron shield in an endeavour to pro- tect himself — a feat which, at last, he succeeded in performing. but, fortunately, for all concerned, as the two men stood eyeing each other, their hands on their hips ready to draw, nick, from his position behind the bar, glimpsed through the window the girl on the point of entering the saloon. “here comes the girl!” he cried excitedly. “aw, leave your guns alone — take your drinks, quick!” for a fraction of a second the men looked sheep- ishly at one another, even nick appearing a trifle uncomfortable, as he picked up the kettle and went off with it. “once more we're friends, eh, boys?” said rance, with a forced laugh; and then as he lifted his glass high in the air, he gave the toast: “the girl!" “the girl!” repeated all — all save ashby, whose snores by this time could be heard throughout the big room — and drained their glasses. vi there was a general movement towards the bar when the fair proprietress of the polka, who had lingered longer than usual in her little cabin on top of the mountain, breezily entered the place by the main door. in a coarse, blue skirt, and rough, white flannel blouse, cut away and held in place at the throat by a crimson ribbon, the girl made a pretty picture; it was not difficult to see why the boys of cloudy mountain camp had a feeling which fell lit- tle short of adoration for this sun-browned maid, with the spirit of the mountain in her eyes. that each in his own way had given her to understand that he was desperately smitten with her, goes with- out saying. but, although she accepted their rough homage as a matter of course, such a thought as fall- ing in love with anyone of them had never entered her mind. as far back, almost, as she could remember, the girl had lived among them and had ever been a true comrade, sharing their disappointments and thrilling with their successes. of a nature pure and simple, she was, nevertheless, frank and outspoken. moreover, she knew to a dot what was meant when someone — bolder than his mates — stretched out his arms to her. one such exhibition on a man's arms n a girl of the golden west part she was likely to forgive and forget, but the wrath and scorn that had blazed forth from her blue eyes on such an occasion had been sufficient to pre- vent a repetition of the offence. in short, unspoiled by their coarse flattery, and, to all appearances, happy and care-free, she attended to the running of the polka wholly unsmirched by her environment. . but a keen observer would not have failed to de- tect that the girl took a little less pleasure in her surroundings than she had taken in them before she had made the trip to monterey. downright glad, to use her own expression, as she had been on her return to see the boys of the camp and hear their boisterous shouts of welcome when the stage drew up in front of the polka, she had to acknowledge that her home-coming was not quite what she ex- pected. it was as if she had suddenly been startled out of a beautiful dream wherein she had been listen- ing to the soft music of her lover's voice and brought face to face with the actualities of life, which, in her case, to say the least, were very real. for hours after leaving her admirer sitting mo- tionless on his horse on the great highway between monterey and sacramento, the girl had indulged in some pertinent thoughts which, if the truth were known, were anything but complimentary to her be- haviour. and, however successful she was later on in persuading herself that he would eventually seek girl of the golden west her out, there was no question that at first she felt that the chances of her ever setting eyes on him again were almost negligible. all the more bitterly, therefore, did she regret her folly in not having told him where she lived; particularly so since she as- sured herself that not only was he the handsomest man that she had ever seen, but that he was the only one who had ever succeeded in chaining her atten- tion. that he had been making love to her with his eyes, if not with words, she knew only too well — a fact that had been anything but displeasing to her. indeed, far from having felt sorry that she had en- couraged him, she, unblushingly, acknowledged to herself that, if she had the thing to do over again, she would encourage him still more. was she then a flirt? not at all, in the common acceptation of the word. all her knowledge of the ways of the world had been derived from mother nature, who had supplied her with a quick and ready wit to turn aside, with a smile, the protestations of the boys; had taught her how to live on intimate terms with them and yet not be intimate; but when it came to playing at love, which every city maid of the same age is an adept at, she was strangely igno- rant. of a truth, then, it was something far broader and deeper that had entered into her heart love. not infrequently love comes as suddenly girl of the golden west as this to young women who live in small mining camps or out-of-the-way places where the men are practically of a type; it is their unfamiliarity with the class which a stranger represents when he makes his appearance in their midst that is responsible, fully as much as his own personality, for their being at- tracted to him. it is not impossible, of course, that if the girl had met him in cloudy,— say as a miner there, — the result would have been precisely the same. but it is much more likely that the at tendant conditions of their meeting aided him in ap- pealing to her imagination, and in touching a chord in her nature which, under other circumstances, would not have responded in as many months as there were minutes on that eventful day. little wonder then, that as each succeeding mile travelled by the stage took her further and further away from him, something which, as yet, she did not dare to name, kept tugging at her heartstrings and which she endeavoured to overcome by listening to the stage driver's long-winded reminiscences and an- ecdotes concerning the country through which they were passing. but, although she made a brave effort to appear interested, it did not take him long to realise that something was on his passenger's mind and, being a wise man, he gradually relapsed into silence, with the result that, before the long journey ay erco girl of the golden west ended at cloudy mountain, she had deceived herself into believing that she was certain to see her admirer again. but as the days grew into weeks, the weeks into months, and the girl neither saw nor heard anything of him, it was inevitable that the picture that he had left on her mind should begin to grow dim. never- theless, it was surprising what a knack his figure had of appearing before her at various times of the day and night, when she never failed to compare him with the miners in the camp, and, needless to say, un- flatteringly to them. there came a time, it is true, when she was sorely tempted to tell one of them something of this new-found friend of hers; but rightly surmising the effect that her praising of her paragon would have upon the recipient of her confi- dences, she wisely resolved to lock up his image in her heart. of course, there were moments, too, when the girl regretted that there was no other woman — some friend of her own sex in the camp — to whom she could confide her little romance. but since that boon was denied her, she took to seeking out the most solitary places to dream of him. in such moods she would climb to a high crag, a few feet from her cabin, and with a reminiscent and far-away look in her eyes she would sit for hours gazing at the great canyons and gorges, the broad forests and wooded girl of the golden west . hillsides, the waterfalls flashing silver in the distance, and, above all, at the wonderously-grand and snow- capped peaks of the main range. at other times she would take the trail leading from the camp to the country below, and after wandering about aimlessly in the beautiful and mys- terious forests, she would select some little glen through which a brook trickled and murmured under- neath the ferns into a pool, and seating herself on a clump of velvet moss, the great sugar pines and firs forming a canopy over her head, she would whisper her secret thoughts and wild hopes to the gorgeously- plumed birds and saucy squirrels scampering all about her. the hours spent thus were as oases in her otherwise practical existence, and after a while she would return laden down with great bunches of ferns and wild flowers which, eventually, found a place on the walls of the polka. glancing at the bar to see that everything was to her satisfaction, the girl greeted the boys warmly, almost rapturously with: “hello, boys! how's everythin'? gettin' taken care of?" “hello, girl!" sang out sonora in what he con- sidered was his most fetching manner. he had been the first to reach the coveted position opposite the girl, although handsome, who had followed her in, girl of the golden west was leaning at the end of the bar nearest to the dance-hall. “hello, sonora !” returned the girl with an amused smile, for it was impossible with her keen sense of humour not to see sonora's attempts to make himself irresistible to her. nor did she fail to ob- serve that trinidad, likewise, had spruced himself up a little more than usual, with the same purpose in mind. “hello, girl!” he said, strolling up to her with a ludicrous swagger. “hello, trin!" came from the girl, smilingly. there was an awkward pause in which both sonora and trinidad floundered about in their minds for something to say; at length, a brilliant inspiration came to the former, and he asked: “say, girl, make me a prairie oyster, will you?" “all, right, sonora, i'll fix you right up," returned the girl, smiling to herself at his effort. but at the moment that she was reaching for a bottle back of the bar, a terrific whoop came from the dance-hall, and ever-watchful lest the boys' fun should get beyond her control, she called to her factotum to quiet things down in the next room, concluding warningly: “they've had about enough." when the barkeeper had gone to do her bidding, the girl picked up an egg, and, poising it over a glass, she went on: cal girl of the golden west . “say, look 'ere, sonora, before i crack this 'ere egg, i'd like to state that eggs is four bits apiece. only two hens left —” she broke off short, and turning upon handsome, who had been gradually sidling up until his elbows almost touched hers, she repulsed him a trifle impatiently: "oh, run away, handsome!” a flush of pleasure at handsome's evident dis- comfiture spread over sonora's countenance, and comical, indeed, to the girl, was the majestic air he took on when he ordered recklessly: “oh, crack the egg — i'll stand for it.” but sonora's fancied advantage over the others was of short duration, for the next instant nick, stepping quickly forward with a drink, handed it to the girl with the words: “regards of blonde harry." again sonora experienced a feeling akin to jeal- ousy at what he termed blonde harry's impudence. it almost immediately gave way to a paroxysm of chuckling; for, the girl, quickly taking the glass from nick's hand, flung its contents into a nearby receptacle. “there — tell 'im that it hit the spot!" she laughed. nick roared with the others, but on the threshold of the dance-hall he paused, hesitated, and finally came back, and advised in a low tone: girl of the golden west w arou "throw around a few kind words, girl — good for the bar.” the girl surveyed the barkeeper with playful disapproval in her eye. however advantageous might be his method of working up trade, she dis- dained to follow his advice, and her laughing answer was: “oh, you nick!" the peal of laughter that rung in nick's ears as he disappeared through the door, awakened ashby and brought him instantly to his feet. despite his size, he was remarkably quick in his movements, and in no time at all he was standing before the bar with a glass, which he had filled from the bottle that had stood in front of him on the table, and was saying: “ compliments of wells fargo." “ thank you," returned the girl; and then while she shook the prairie oyster: “you see we live high-shouldered here." “that's what!” put in sonora with a broad grin. “what cigars have you?” asked ashby, at the conclusion of his round of drinks. “regalias, auroas and eurekas," reeled off the girl with her eye upon billy jackrabbit, who had quietly come in and was sneaking about in an en- deavour to find something worth pilfering. “oh, any will do,” ashby told her, with a smile; and while he was helping himself from a box of see girl of the golden west regalias, nick suddenly appeared, calling out ex- citedly: "man jest come in threatenin' to shoot up the furniture!” “who is it?" calmly inquired the girl, return- ing the cigar-box to its place on the shelf. “ old man watson!” “leave 'im shoot,- he's good for it!” “nick! nick ! ” yelled several voices in the dance-hall where old man watson was surely having the time of his life. and still the girl paid not the slightest attention to the shooting or the cries of the men; what did concern her, however, was the fact that the indian was drinking up the dregs in the whisky glasses on the faro table. “here, you, billy jackrabbit! what are you doin' here?” she exclaimed sharply, causing that generally imperturbable redskin to start perceptibly. “ did you marry my squaw yet?” billy jackrabbit's face wore as stolid an expres- sion as ever, when he answered: “not so much married squaw — yet.” “not so much married ...” repeated the girl when the merriment, which his words provoked, had subsided. “ come 'ere, you thievin' redskin!" and when he had slid up to the bar, and she had ex- tracted from his pockets a number of cigars which o mai girl of the golden west she knew had been pilfered, she added: “you git up to my cabin an' marry my squaw before i git there." and at another emphatic “ git!” the indian, much to the amusement of all, started for the girl's cabin. “here — here's your prairie oyster, sonora,” at last said the girl; and then turning to the sheriff and speaking to him for the first time, she called out gaily: “ hello, rance!” “hello, girll” replied the gambler without even a glance at her or ceasing to shuffle the cards. presently, sonora pulled out a bag of gold-dust and told the girl to clear the slate out of it. she was in the act of taking the sack when nick, rushing into the room and jerking his thumb over his shoulder, said: “say, girl, there's a fellow in there wants to know if we can help out on provisions." “sure; what does he want?” returned the girl with a show of willingness to accommodate him. “bread.” “ bread? does he think we're runnin' a bakery?” " then he asked for sardines.” “sardines ? great gilead! you tell 'im we have nothin' but straight provisions here. we got pickled oysters, smokin' tobacco an' the best whisky girl of the golden west ioi he ever saw,” rapped out the girl, proudly, and turned her attention to the slate. “you bet!” vouched trinidad with a nod, as nick departed on his errand. finally, the girl, having made her calculations, opened the counter drawer and brought forth some silver mexican dollars, saying: “sonora, an' mr. ashby, your change!” ashby picked up his money, only to throw it in- stantly back on the bar, and say gallantly: “keep the change — buy a ribbon at the ridge - compliments of wells fargo.". “ thank you," smiled the girl, sweeping the money into the drawer, but her manner showed plainly that it was not an unusual thing for the pa- trons of the polka to refuse to accept the change. not to be outdone, sonora quickly arose and went counter where, pointing to his stack of silver dollars, he said: “girl, buy two ribbons at the ridge;" and then with a significant glance towards ashby, he added: “fawn's my colour.” and again, as before, the voice that said, “thank you," was colourless, while her eyes rested upon the ubiquitous nick, who had entered with an armful of wood and was intent upon making the room warmer. ov girl of the golden west rance snorted disapprovingly at sonora's prod. igality. that he considered that both his and ashby's attentions to the girl had gone far enough was made apparent by the severe manner in which he envisaged them and drawled out: “ play cyards ?” but to that gentleman's surprise the men did not move. instead, ashby raising a warning finger to the girl, went on to advise that she should bank with them oftener, concluding with: “and then if this road agent ramerrez should drop in, you won't lose so much —” “the devil you say!”cut in sonora; while trini- dad broke out into a scornful laugh. “oh, go on, mr. ashby!” smilingly scoffed the girl. “i keep the specie in an empty keg now. but i've took to bankin' personally in my stockin'," she confided without the slightest trace of em- barrassment. “but say, we've got an awful pile this month," observed nick, anxiously, leaving the fireplace and joining the little ring of men about her. “it makes me sort o' nervous — why, sonora's got ten thou- sand alone fer safe keepin' in that keg an'—". " ramerrez' band's everywhere," completed ashby with a start, his quick and trained ear having caught the sound of horses' hoofs. “but if a road agent did come here, i could offer girl of the golden west 'im a drink an' he'd treat me like a perfect lady," contended the girl, confidently. “you bet he would, the durned old halibut ! " was sonora's comment, while nick took occasion to ask the girl for some tobacco. “solace or honeydew ?" she inquired, her hands already on the assortment of tobacco underneath the bar. “dew," was nick's laconic answer. and then it was that the girl heard for the first time the sound of the galloping hoofs; startled for the moment, she inquired somewhat uneasily: “who's this, i wonder ?” but no sooner were the words spoken than a voice outside in the darkness sung out sharply: “hello!” “hello!” instantly returned another voice, which the girl recognised at once as being that of the deputy. “ big holdup last night at the forks!” the first voice was now saying. “holdup!” repeated several voices outside in tones of excitement. “ramerrez —" went on the first voice, at which ominous word all, including ashby, began to ex- change significant glances as they echoed: “ramerrez !" the name had barely died on their lips, however, girl of the golden west “pony express, i want you!” satisfied that his command had been heard he retraced his footsteps and found handsome peering eagerly over sonora's shoulder. “so, sonora, you've got a newspaper," handsome was saying. “yes, but the infernal thing's two months old," returned the other disgustedly. handsome laughed, and wheeling round was just in time to see the door ilung open and a young fellow advance towards ashby. the pony express was a young man of not more than twenty years of age. he was smooth-faced and unshaven and, needless to say, was light of build, for these riders were selected for their weight as well as for their nerve. he wore a sombrero, a buck- skin hunting-shirt, tight trousers tucked into high boots with spurs, all of which were weather-beaten and faded by wind, rain, dust and alkali. a pair of colt revolvers could be seen in his holsters, and he carried in his hands, which were covered with heavy gloves, a mail pouch — it being the company's orders not to let his muchilo of heavy leather out of his hands for a second. “you drop mail at the greaser settlement?" in- quired ashby in his peremptory and incisive manner. “yes, sir," quickly responded the young man; and then volunteered: “it's a tough place." girl of the golden west ashby scrutinised the newcomer closely before go ing on with: “ know a girl there named nina micheltoreña?” but before the pony express had time to reply the girl interposed scornfully: “nina micheltoreña? why, they all know 'er! she's one o' them cachuca girls with droopy, span- ish eyes! oh, ask the boys about 'er!” and with that she started to leave the room, stopping on her way to clap both trinidad and sonora playfully on the back. “yes, ask the boys about 'er, they'll tell you!” and so saying she fled from the room, fol- lowed by the men she was poking fun at. “ hold her letters, you understand?" instructed ashby who, with the sheriff, was alone now with the pony express. “yes, sir," he replied earnestly. a moment later there being no further orders forthcoming he hastily took his leave. ashby now turned his attention to rance. “sheriff,” said he, “to-night i expect to see this nina micheltoreña either here or at the palmetto." rance never raised an eyebrow. “you do?” he remarked a moment later with studied carelessness. “well, the boys had better look to their watches. i met that lady once." ashby shot him a look of inquiry. girl of the golden west “she's looking to that five thousand reward for ramerrez," he told him. rance's interest was growing by leaps and bounds though he continued to riffle the cards. “what? she's after that?” “sure thing. she knows something ..." and having delivered himself of this ashby strode over to the opposite side of the room where his coat and hat were hanging upon an elk horn. while put- ting them on he came face to face with the girl who, having merely glanced in at the dance-hall, was re- turning to take up her duties behind the bar. “well, i'll have a look at that greaser up the road,” he said, addressing her, and then went on half-jocularly, half- seriously: “he may have his eye on the find in that stocking." “you be darned!” was the girl's parting shot at him as he went out into the night. there was a long and impressive pause in which, apparently, the sheriff was making up his mind to speak of matters scarcely incident to the situation that had gone before; while fully conscious that she was to be asked to give him an answer — she whose answer had been given many times — the girl stood at the bar in an attitude of amused expectancy, and fussing with things there. at length, rance, glanc- ing shyly over his shoulder to make sure that they girl of the golden west were alone, became all at once grave and his voice fell soft and almost caressingly. “say, girl!" the young woman addressed stole a look at him from under her lashes, all the while smiling a wise, little smile to herself, but not a word did she vouch- safe in reply. again rance called to her over his shoulder: “i say, girl!” the girl took up a glass and began to polish it. at last she deigned to favour him with “hm?" which, apparently, he did not hear, for again a si- lence fell upon them. finally, unable to bear the suspense any longer, the sheriff threw down his cards on the table, and facing her he said: “say, girl, will you marry me?" “nope," returned the girl with a saucy toss of the head. rance rose and strode over to the bar. looking fixedly at her with his steely grey eyes he demanded the reason. “'cause you got a wife in noo orleans — or so the mountain breezes say," was her ready answer. rance gave no sign of having heard her. throw- ing away the cigar he was smoking he asked in the most nonchalant manner: “give me some of them cigars — my kind.” a sa girl of the golden west reaching for a box behind her the girl placed it before him. “them's your kind, jack." from an inside pocket of his broadcloth coat rance took out an elaborate cigar-case, filled it slowly, leaving out one cigar which he placed be- tween his lips. when he had this one going satis- factorily he rested both elbows on the edge of the bar, and said bluntly: “i'm stuck on you." the girl's lips parted a little mockingly. “ thank you." rance puffed away for a moment or two in silence, and then with sudden determination he went on: “i'm going to marry you." “think so ?” questioned the girl, drawing her- self up proudly. and while rance proceeded to re- light his cigar, it having gone out, she plumped both elbows on the bar and looked him straight in the eye, and announced: “ they ain't a man here goin' to marry me." the scene had precisely the appearance of a strug- gle between two powerful wills. how long they would have remained with elbows almost touching and looking into each other's eyes it is difficult to de- termine; but an interruption came in the person of the barkeeper, who darted in, calling: “one good cigar!" girl of the golden west instantly the girl reached behind her for the box containing the choicest cigars, and handing one to nick, she said: “here's your poison — three bits. why look at 'em,” she went on in the next breath to rance; “there's handsome with two wives i know of some- where east. and -” she broke off short and ended with: “ nick, who's that cigar for?” “tommy," he told her. “here, give that back!” she cried quickly put- ting out her hand for it. “tommy don't know a good cigar when he's smokin' it.” and so saying she put the choice cigar back in its place among its fellows and handed him one from another box with the remark: “ same price, nick." nick chuckled and went out. “an' look at trin with a widow in sacramento. an' you " the girl broke off short and laughed in his face. “oh, not one o? you travellin' under your own name!” “one whisky!” ordered nick, coming into the room with a rush. without a word the girl took down a bottle and poured it out for him while he stood quietly looking on, grinning from ear to ear. for rance's weakness was known to him as it was to every other man in manzaneta county, and he be- lieved that the sheriff had taken advantage of his absence to press his hopeless suit. girl of the golden west iii “here you be!" sang out the girl, and passed the glass over to him. “he wants it with water,” returned.nick, with a snicker. with a contemptuous gesture the girl put the bot- tle back on the shelf. "no— no you don't; no fancy drinks here!” she objected. “ but he says he won't take it without water," pro- tested nick, though there was a twinkle in his eye. “he's a fellow that's jest rode in from the crossin', so he says." the girl folded her arms and declared in a tone of finality: “he'll take it straight or git.” “ but he won't git," contended nick chuckling. there was an ominous silence. such behaviour was without a parallel in the annals of cloudy. for much less than this, as the little barkeeper very well knew, many a man had been disciplined by the girl. so, with his eyes fixed upon her face, he was already revelling in the situation by way of anticipa- tion, and rejoicing in the coming requital for his own rebuff when the stranger had declined to leave as ordered. it was merely a question of his wait- ing for the words which would, as he put it, “take the fellow down a peg." they were soon forth- coming. owo s girl of the golden west “you jest send 'im to me,” commanded the girl. " i'll curl his hair for him!” nick's face showed that the message was to his liking. it was evident, also, that he meant to lose no time in delivering it. a moment after he disap- peared, rance, who had been toying with a twenty dollar gold piece which he took from his pocket, turned to the girl and said with great earnestness: "girl, i'll give you a thousand dollars on the spot for a kiss," which offer met with no response other than a nervous little laugh and the words: “some men invite bein' played." the gambler shrugged his shoulders. “well, what are men made for?” said he, aling- ing the gold piece down on the bar in payment for the cigar. “that's true," placidly commented the girl, mak- ing the change. rance tried another tack. “ you can't keep on running this place alone; it's getting too big for you; too much money circulating through the polka. you need a man behind you." all this was said in short, jerky sentences; moreover, when she placed his change in front of him he pushed it back almost angrily. “come now, marry me," again he pleaded. “nope." “my wife won't know it." girl of the golden west “nope." “now, see here, there's just one —” “nope — take it straight, jack, nope . . ." interrupted the girl. she had made up her mind that he had gone far enough; and firmly grabbing his hand she slipped his change into it. without a word the sheriff dropped the coins into the cuspidor. the girl saw the action and her eyes flashed with anger. the next moment, however, she looked up at him and said more gently than any time yet: “no, jack, i can't marry you. ah, come along -start your game again — go on, jack.” and so saying she came out from behind the bar and went over to the faro table with: “whoop la! mula! go! good lord, look at that faro table!" but rance was on the verge of losing control of himself. there was passion in his steely grey eyes when he advanced towards her, but although the girl saw the look she did not flinch, and met it in a clear, straight glance. “look here, jack rance," she said, "let's have it out right now. i run the polka 'cause i like it. my father taught me the business an', well, don't you worry 'bout me — i can look after m'self. i carry my little wepping”- and with that she touched significantly the little pocket of her dress. “i'm independent, i'm happy, the polka's payin', a girl of the golden west an' it's bully !” she wound up, laughing. then, with one of her quick changes of mood, she turned upon him angrily and demanded: “say, what the devil do you mean by proposin' to me with a wife in noo orleans ? now, this is a respectable saloon, an' i don't want no more of it.” a look of gloom came into rance's eyes. “i didn't say anything —" he began. “push me that queen," interrupted the girl, sharply, gathering up the cards at the faro table, and pointing to one that was just beyond her reach. but when rance handed it to her and was moving silently away, she added: “ah, no offence, jack, but i got other idees o' married life from what you have." “aw, nonsense l " came from the sheriff in a voice that was not free from irritation. the girl glanced up at him quickly. her mind was not the abode of hardened convictions, but was tender to sentiment, and something in his manner at once softening her, she said: “nonsense? i dunno 'bout that. you see —” and her eyes took on a far away look —“i had a home once an' i ain't forgot it – a home up over our little saloon down in soledad. i ain't forgot my father an' my mother an' what a happy kepple they were. lord, how they loved each other — it was beautifull" despite his seemingly callous exterior, there was girl of the golden west her eyes. ah, she was a lady ...!” im- pulsively she rose and walked over to the bar. “no," she went on, when behind it once more, “i couldn't share that table an' the polka with any man - unless there was a heap o' carin' back of it. no, i couldn't, jack, i couldn't ..." by this time the sheriff's anger had completely vanished; dejection was plainly written on every line of his face. “well, i guess the boys were right; i am a china- man,” he drawled out. at once the girl was all sympathy. “oh, no you're not, jack!" she protested, speak- ing as tenderly as she dared without encouraging him. rance was quick to detect the change in her voice. now he leaned over the end of the bar and said in tones that still held hope: “once when i rode in here it was nothing but jack, jack, jack rance. by the eternal, i nearly got you then!” “ did you ?" the girl was her saucy self again. rance ignored her manner, and went on: “then you went on that trip to sacramento and monterey and you were different." in spite of herself the girl started, which rance's quick eye did not fail to note. “who's the man? " he blazed. girl of the golden west for answer the girl burst out into a peal of laugh- ter. it was forced, and the man knew it. "i suppose he's one o' them high-toned, sacra- mento shrimps !” he burst out gruffly; then he added meaningly: “do you think he'd have you?” at those words a wondering look shone in the girl's eyes, and she asked in all seriousness: “what's the matter with me? is there anythin' 'bout me a high-toned gent would object to?" and then as the full force of the insult was borne in upon her she stepped out from behind the bar, and de- manded: “look here, jack rance, ain't i always been a perfect lady ?" rance laughed discordantly. “oh, heaven knows your character's all right!" and so saying he seated himself again at the table. the girl flared up still more at this; she retorted: “well, that ain't your fault, jack rance!" but the words were hardly out of her mouth than she regretted having spoken them. she waited a mo- ment, and then as he did not speak she murmured an “adios, jack," and took up her position behind the bar where, if rance had been looking, he would have seen her start on hearing a voice in the next room and fix her eyes in a sort of fascinated wonder, on a man who, after parting the pelt curtain, came into the saloon with just a suggestion of swagger in his bearing. ТОО girl of the golden west a se was cc although, perhaps, not fully appreciating his action, he was, nevertheless, not unaware that, from the point of view of the polka, his refusal to take his. whisky straight might be regarded as nothing less than an insult. and now that it was too late he was inclined, however much he resented an at- tempt to interfere in a matter which he believed con- cerned himself solely, to regret the provocation and challenging words of his entrance if only because of a realisation that a quarrel would be likely to upset his plans. on the other hand, with every fraction of a second that passed he was conscious of becoming more and more desirous of humbling the man stand- ing before him and scrutinising him so insolently; moreover, he felt intuitively that the eyes of the girl were on him as well as on the other principal to this silent but no less ominous conflict going on, and such being the case it was obviously impossible for him to withdraw from the position he had taken. as a sort of compromise, therefore, he said, tentatively: “i'm the man who wanted water in his whisky." "you!” exclaimed the girl; and then added re- provingly: “oh, nick, this gentleman takes his whisky as he likes it!” and this from the girl! the little barkeeper had all the appearance of a man who thought the world was coming to an end. he did not accept the girl's ultimatum until he had drawn down his face into an. ance girl of the golden west expression of mock solemnity and ejaculated half- aloud: “moses, what's come over 'er!”. johnson took a few steps nearer the girl and bowed low. “in the presence of a lady i will take nothing," he said impressively. “but pardon me, you seem to be almost at home here." the girl leaned her elbows on the bar and her chin in her hands, and answered with a tantalising little laugh: “ who — me?”. after a loud guffaw nick took it upon himself to explain matters; turning to johnson he said: “why, she's the girl who runs the polka!” johnson's face wore a look of puzzled consterna- tion; he saw no reason for levity. “you . . .?" “yep,” nodded the girl with a merry twinkle in her eyes. johnson's face fell. “she runs the polka," he murmured to himself. of all places to have chosen — this! so the thing he had dreaded had happened! for odd as it unquestionably seemed to him that she should turn up as the proprietress of a saloon after months of searching high and low for her, it was not this reflection that was uppermost in his girl of the golden west an mind; on the contrary, it was the deeply humiliating thought that he had come upon her when about to ply his vocation. regret came swiftly that he had not thought to inquire who was the owner of the polka saloon. bitterly he cursed himself for his dense stupidity. and yet, it was doubtful whether any of his band could have informed him. all that they knew of the place was that the miners of cloudy mountain camp were said to keep a large amount of placer gold there; all that he had done was to acquaint himself with the best means of get- ting it. but his ruminations were soon dissipated by rance, who had come so close that their feet almost touched, and was speaking in a voice that showed the quarrelsome frame of mind that he was in. "you're from the crossing, the barkeeper said —” he began, and then added pointedly: “i don't remember you." johnson slowly turned from the girl to the speaker and calmly corrected: “you're mistaken; i said i rode over from the crossing." and turning his back on the man he faced the girl with: “so, you run the polka ? " " i'm the girl — the girl that runs the polka," she said, and to his astonishment seemed to glory in her occupation. presently, much to their delight, an opportunity came to them to exchange a word or two with each girl of the golden west other without interruption. for, rance, as if re- volving some plan of action in his mind, had turned on his heel and walked off a little way. a moment more, however, and he was back again and more malevolently aggressive than ever. “no strangers are allowed in this camp,” he said, glowering at johnson; and then, his remark having passed unheeded by the other, he sneered: “per- haps you're off the road; men often get mixed up when they're visiting nina micheltoreña on the back trail." “oh, rance!” protested the girl. but johnson, though angered, let the insinuation pass unnoticed, and went on to say that he had stopped in to rest his horse and, perhaps, if invited, try his luck at a game of cards. and with this inti- mation he crossed over to the poker table where he picked up the deck that rance had been using. rance hesitated, and finally followed up the stranger until he brought up face to face with him. "you want a game, eh?” he drawled, coolly im- pudent. “i haven't heard your name, young man." "name," echoed the girl v “oh, names out here " “my name's johnson —” spoke up the man, throwing down the cards on the table. “is what?" laughed the girl, saucily, and, ap- girl of the golden west “out o' every fifty men who think they can play poker one ain't mistaken,” was the girl's caustic ob- servation. the next instant, however, she jumped down from the table and was back at her post, where, 'fearful lest he should think her wanting in hospi- tality, she proposed: “try a cigar, mr. john- son?” “thank you,” he said, rising, and following her to the bar. “ best in the house - my compliments." “you're very kind,” said johnson, taking the candle that she had lighted for him; then, when his cigar was going, and in a voice that was intended for her alone, he went on: “so you remember me?" “if you remember me," returned the girl, like- wise in a low tone. “what the devil are they talking about any- way?” muttered rance to himself as he stole a glance at them over his shoulder, though he kept on shuffling the cards. “i met you on the road to monterey,” said john- son with a smile. “yes, comin' an' goin',” smiled back the girl. “you passed me a bunch o' wild syringa over the wheel; you also asked me to go a-berryin'-" and here she paused long enough to glance up at him coquettishly before adding: “but i didn't see it, mr. johnson." girl of the golden west "i noticed that,” observed johnson, laughing. “ an' when you went away you said " the girl broke off abruptly and replaced the candle on the bar; then with a shy, embarrassed look on her face she ended with: “oh, i dunno.” “yes, you do, yes, you do," maintained johnson. “i said i'll think of you all the time — well, i've thought of you ever since.” there was a moment of embarrassment. then: “somehow i kind o' tho't you might drop in," she said with averted eyes. “but as you didn't —" she paused and summoned to her face a look which she believed would adequately reflect a knowledge of the proprieties. “o' course,” she tittered out, “it wa'n't my place to remember you — first." “but i didn't know where you lived — you never told me, you know," contended the road agent, which contention so satisfied the girl — for she re- membered only too well that she had not told him — that she determined to show him further evidences of her regard. “say, i got a special bottle here — best in the house. will you ...?" “why —" the girl did not wait for him to finish his sen- tence, but quickly placed a bottle and glass before him. “my compliments,” she whispered, smiling. girl of the golden west "you're very kind — thanks," returned the road agent, and proceeded to pour out a drink. meanwhile, little of what was taking place had been lost on jack rance. as the whispered conver- sation continued, he grew more and more jealous, and at the moment that johnson was on the point of putting the glass to his lips, rance, rising quickly, went over to him and deliberately knocked the glass out of his hand. with a crash it fell to the floor. “look here, mr. johnson, your ways are offen- sive to me!” he cried; “ damned offensive! my name is rance — jack rance. your business here — your business ?” and without waiting for the others reply he called out huskily: “ boys! boys! come in here!" at this sudden and unexpected summons in the sheriff's well-known voice there was a rush from the dance-hall; in an instant the good-natured, roistering crowd, nosing a fight, crowded to the bar, where the two men stood glaring at each other in suppressed excitement. "boys," declared the sheriff, his eye never leav- ing johnson's face, “there's a man here who won't explain his business. he won't tell —” “won't he?” cut in sonora, blusteringly. “ well, we'll see — we'll make 'im!". there was a howl of execration from the bar. "boys, i vouch to cloudy for mr. johnson" girl of the golden west stood staring helplessly at one another; at length happy broke out with: “say, handsome, ain't he got a purty action ? an' ornamental sort o'cuss, ain't he? but say, kind o presumin' like, ain't it, for a fellow breathin' the obscurity o' the crossin' to learn gents like us how to ketch the ladies pronto ?” “which same," allowed handsome, "shorely's a most painful, not to say humiliatin' state o' things." and then to the girl he whispered: “it's up to you - make a holy show of 'im.” the girl laughed. “me waltz? me?” she cried, answering john- son at last. “oh, i can't waltz but i can polky." once more johnson bent his tall figure to the ground, and said: “then may i have the pleasure of the next polka ?" by this time sonora had recovered from his as- tonishment. after giving vent to a grunt expres- sive of his contempt, he blurted out: “that fellow's too flip!" but the idea had taken hold of the girl, though she temporised shyly: “oh, i dunno! makes me feel kind o foolish, you know, kind o' retirin' like a elk in summer." johnson smiled in spite of himself. “elks are retiring," was his comment as he again girl of the golden west advanced and offered his arm in an impressive and ceremonious manner. “well, i don't like everybody's hand on the back o' my waist," said the girl, running her hands up and down her dress skirt. “but, somehow -" she stopped, and fixing her eyes recklessly on rance, made a movement as if about to accept; but another look at johnson's proferred arm so embarrassed her that she sent a look of appeal to the rough fellows, who stood watching her with grinning faces. "oh, lord, must i ?” she asked; then, hanging back no longer, she suddenly alung herself into his arms with the cry: "oh, come along!” promptly johnson put his arm around the girl's waist, and breaking into a polka he swung her off to the dance-hall where their appearance was greeted with a succession of wild whoops from the men there, as well as from the hilarious boys, who had rushed pell-mell after them. left to himself and in a rage rance began to pace the floor. “cleaned out — cleaned out for fair by a high- toned, fine-haired dog named johnson! well, i'll be —” the sentence was never finished, his atten- tion being caught and held by something which nick was carrying in from the dance-hall. “what's that?” he demanded brusquely. nick's eyes were twinkling when he answered: girl of the golden west was “ johnson's saddle.” rance could control himself no longer; with a sweep of his long arm he knocked the saddle out of the other's hand, saying: “nick, i've a great notion to walk out of this door and never step my foot in here again.” nick did not answer at once. while he did not especially care for rance he did not propose to let his patronage, which was not inconsiderable, go elsewhere without making an effort to hold it. therefore, he thought a moment before picking up the saddle and placing it in the corner of the room. “aw, what you givin' us, rance! she's only a-kiddin' 'im," at last he said consolingly. the sheriff was about to question this when a loud cry from outside arrested him. “what's that?” he asked with his eyes upon the door. “why that's — that's ashby's voice," the bar- keeper informed him; and going to the door, fol- lowed by rance, as well as the men who, on hear- ing the cry, had rushed in from the dance-hall, he opened it, and they heard again the voice that they, all recognised now as that of the wells fargo agent. “come on!” he was saying gruffly. “what the deuce is up?" inquired trinidad si- multaneously with the deputy's cry of “bring him in!” and almost instantly the deputy, followed girl of the golden west the deputy and billy jackrabbit took a lariat from the wall and proceeded to bind their prisoner fast. when this was done ashby called to nick to serve him another drink, adding: “come on, boys!”. instantly there was an exclamatory lining up at the bar, only sonora, apparently, seeming disinclined to accept, which ashby was quick to note. turning to him quickly, he inquired: “say, my friend, don't you drink?" but no insult had been intended by sonora's omis- sion; it was merely most inconsiderate on his part of the feelings of others; and, therefore, there was a note of apology in the voice that presently said: “oh, yes, mr. ashby, i'm with you all right." during this conversation the eyes of the greaser had been wandering all over the room. but as the men moved away from him to take their drinks he started violently and an expression of dismay crossed his features. “ramerrez' saddle!” he muttered to himself. “the maestro – he is taken!” just then there came a particularly loud burst of approval from the spectators of the dancing going on in the adjoining room, and instinctively the men at the bar half-turned towards the noise. the pris- oner's eyes followed their gaze and a fiendish grin replaced the look of dismay on his face. “no, he is there dancing with a girl," he said under his en w girl of the golden west breath. a moment later nick let down the bear. skin curtain, shutting off completely the mexican's view of the dance-hall. “come, now, tell us what your name is?” the voice was ashby's who, together with the others, now surrounded the prisoner. “ speak up — who are you?” “my name ees jose castro; " and then he added with a show of pride: “ ex-padrona of the bulle fights.” “but the bull-fights are at monterey! why do you come to this place?”. all eyes instantly turned from the prisoner to rance, who had asked the question while seated at the table, and from him they returned to the pris- oner, most of the men giving vent to exclamations of anger in tones that made the greaser squirm, while trinidad expressed the prevailing admiration of the sheriff's poser by crying out: “that's the talk — you bet! why do you come here?” castro's face wore an air of candour as he replied: “to tell the señor sheriff i know where ees ramerrez." rance turned on the prisoner a grim look. “you lie!” he vociferated, at the same time rais- ing his hand to check the angry mutterings of the men that boded ill for the greaser. girl of the golden west at this juncture a ridge boy, who had pushed aside the bear-skin curtain and was gazing with mouth wide open at the proceedings, suddenly cried out: “why, hello, boys! what's the —” he got no further. in a twinkling and with cries of “shut up! git!" the men made for the intruder and bodily threw him out of the room. when quiet was restored rance motioned to the prisoner to proceed. “ramerrez can be taken — too well taken," de- clared the mexican, gaining confidence as he went on," if many men come with me — in forty minutes there — back.” rance turned to ashby and asked him what he thought about it. “i don't know what to think," was the wells fargo agent's reply. “but it certainly is curious. this is the second warning — intimation that we have had that he is somewhere in this vicinity." “and this nina micheltoreña — you say she is coming here to-night?” ashby nodded assent. “ all the same, rance," he maintained, "i wouldn't go. better drop in to the palmetto later." “what? risk losin' 'im?" exclaimed sonora, who had been listening intently to their conversation. “we'll take the chance, boys, in spite of ashby's girl of the golden west advice," rance said decisively. it was with not a little surprise that he heard the shouts with which his words were approved by all save the wells fargo agent. now the miners made a rush for their coats, hats and saddles, while from all sides came the cries of, “ come on, boys! careful — there! ready — sheriff !” gladly, cheerfully, nick, too, did what he could to get the men started by setting up the drinks for all hands, though he remarked as he did so: “it's goin' to snow, boys; i don't like the sniff in the air." but even the probability of encountering a storm — which in that altitude was something decidedly to be reckoned with — did not deter the men from proceeding to make ready for the road agent's cap- ture. in an incredibly short space of time they had loaded up and got their horses together, and from the harmony in their ranks while carrying out orders, it was evident that not a man there doubted the success of their undertaking. “we'll git this road agent!” sung out trinidad, going out through the door. "right you are, pard!” agreed sonora; but at the door he called back to the greaser: “come on, you oily, garlic-eatin', red-peppery, dog-trottin', sun- baked son of a skunk!" girl of the golden west prisoner, but with the appearance on the scene of johnson, he felt that his responsibility ceased in a measure. he turned and gave his attention to mat- ters pertaining to the bar. as a consequence, he did not see the look of recognition that passed between the two men, nor did he hear the whispered dialogue in spanish that followed. “maestro! ramerrez!” came in whispered tones from castro. “speak quickly — go on,” came likewise in whispered tones from the road agent. “i let them take me according to your bidding," went on castro. “careful, jose, careful,” warned his master while stooping to pick up his saddle, which he afterwards laid on the faro table. it was while he was thus en- gaged that nick came over to the prisoner with a glass of liquor, which he handed to him gruffly with: “here!" at that moment several voices from the dance- hall called somewhat impatiently: “nick, nick!" “oh, the ridge boys are goin'!” he said, and seeming intuitively to know what was wanted he made for the bar. but before acceding to their wishes, he turned to johnson, took out his gun and offered it to him with the words: “say, watch this greaser for a moment, will you?” “ certainly,” responded johnson, quickly, declin- girl of the golden west ing the other's pistol by touching his own holster significantly. “tell the girl you pressed me into service," he concluded with a smile. "sure.” but on the point of going, the little barkeeper turned to him and confided: “say, the girl's taken an awful fancy to you." “no?" deprecated the road agent. “yes," affirmed nick. “ drop in often — great bar!” johnson smiled an assent as the other went out of the room leaving master and man together. “now, then, jose, go on," he said, when they were alone. “bueno! our men await the signal in the bushes close by. i will lead the sheriff far off — then i will slip away. you quietly rob the place and fly — it is death for you to linger — ashby is here." “ashby!" the road agent started in alarm. “ ashby -" reiterated castro and stopped on seeing that nick had returned to see that all was well. “all right, nick, everything's all right,” johnson reassured him. the outlaw's position remained unchanged until nick had withdrawn. from where he stood he now saw for the first time the preparations that were be- ing made for his capture: the red torchlights and white candle-lighted lanterns which were reflected n. girl of the golden west through the windows; and a moment more he heard the shouts of the miners calling to one another. of a sudden he was aroused to a consciousness, at least, of their danger by castro's warning: “by to-morrow's twilight you must be safe in your rancho.” the road agent shook his head determinedly. “no, we raid on.” castro was visibly excited. “there are a hundred men on your track.” johnson smiled. “oh, one minute's start of the devil does me, jose.” “ah, but i fear the woman — nina michel- toreña — i fear her terribly. she is close at hand - knowing all, angry with you, and jealous — and still loving you." “loving me? oh, no, jose! nina, like youé loves the spoils, not me. no, i raid on . . ." a silence fell upon the two men, which was broken by sonora calling out: “ bring along the greaser, dep!”. "all right!” answered the loud voice of the deputy. “you hear — we start," whispered castro to his master. “give the signal.” and notwithstanding, the miners were coming through the door for him and stood waiting, torches in hand, he contrived to girl of the golden west finish: “ antonio awaits for it. only the woman and her servant will stay behind here." “adios ! " whispered the master. “adios ! ” returned his man simultaneously with the approach of the deputy towards them. it was then that the girl's gay, happy voice floated in on them from the dance-hall; she cried out: “good-night, boys, good-night! remember me to the ridge!" “you bet we will! so long! whoop! whooppee!" chorussed the men, while the deputy, grabbing the mexican by the collar, ordered him to, • come on!" the situation was not without its humorous side to the road agent; he could not resist following the crowd to the door where he stood and watched his would-be captors silently mount; listened to the sheriff give the word, which was immediately fol- lowed by the sound of horses grunting as they sprang forward into the darkness in a desperate effort to escape the maddening pain of the descending quirts and cruel spurs. it was a scene to set the blood rac- ing through the veins, viewed in any light; and not until the yells of the men had grown indistinct, and all that could be heard was the ever-decreasing sound of rushing hoofs, did the outlaw turn back into the saloon over which there hung a silence which, by contrast, he found strangely depressing. viii there was a subtle change, an obvious lack of warmth in johnson's manner, which the girl was quick to feel upon returning to the now practically, deserted saloon. "don't it feel funny here — kind o creepy?” she gave the words a peculiar emphasis, which made johnson flash a quick, inquisitorial look at her; and then, no comment being forthcoming, she went on to explain: “i s'pose though that's 'cause i don't remember seein' the bar so empty before.” a somewhat awkward silence followed, which at length was broken by the girl, who ordered: “ lights out now! put out the candle here, too, nick!" but while the little barkeeper proceeded to carry out her instructions she turned to johnson with an eager, frank expression on her face, and said: “oh, you ain't goin', are you?” “no— not yet — no —" stammered johnson, half-surprisedly, half-wonderingly. the girl's face wore a pleased look as she an- swered: “oh, i'm so glad o' that!" another embarrassing silence followed. at last nick made a movement towards the window, say- ing: girl of the golden west “i'm goin' to put the shutters up." “so early? what?” the girl looked her sur- prise. “well, you see, the boys are out huntin' ramer- rez, and there's too much money here . . ." said nick in a low tone. the girl laughed lightly. “oh, all right — cash in — but don't put the head on the keg — i ain't cashed in m'self yet.” rolling the keg to one side of the room, nick beckoned to the girl to come close to him, which she did; and pointing to johnson, who was strolling about the room, humming softly to himself, he whispered: “say, girl, know anythin' about — about him?" but very significant as was nick's pantomime, which included the keg and johnson, it succeeded only in bringing forth a laugh from the girl, and the words: “oh, sure!" nevertheless, the faithful guardian of the girl's interests sent a startled glance of inquiry about the room, and again asked: “all right, eh?” the girl ignored the implication contained in the other's glance, and answered “yep," in such a tone of finality that nick, reassured at last, began to put things ship-shape for the night. this took but a girl of the golden west moment or two, however, and then he quietly disap, peared. “well, mr. johnson, it seems to be us a-keepin' house here to-night, don't it?" said the girl, alone now with the road agent. her observation might easily have been interpreted as purposely introductory to an intimate scene, not- withstanding that it was made in a thoroughly mat- ter-of-fact tone and without the slightest trace of coquetry. but johnson did not make the mistake of misconstruing her words, puzzled though he was to find a clue to them. his curiosity about her was in- tense, and it showed plainly in the voice that said presently: “isn't it strange how things come about? strange that i should have looked everywhere for you and in the end find you here — at the polka." johnson's emphasis on his last words sent a bright red rushing over her, colouring her neck, her ears and her broad, white forehead. "anythin' wrong with the polka ? " johnson was conscious of an indiscreet remark; nevertheless he ventured: “well, it's hardly the place for a young woman like you." the girl made no reply to this but busied herself with the closing-up of the saloon. johnson in- girl of the golden west terpreted her silence as a difference of opinion. nevertheless, he repeated with emphasis: “ it is decidedly no place for you." “how so?" “well, it's rather unprotected, and ". “oh, pshaw!” interrupted the girl somewhat irritably. “i tol ashby only to-night that i bet if a rud agent come in here i could offer 'im a drink an' he'd treat me like a perfect lady.” she stopped and turned upon him impulsively with: “say, that reminds me, won't you take somethin'?” before answering, johnson shot her a quick look of inquiry to see whether there was not a hidden meaning in her words. of course there was not, the remark being impelled by a sudden consciousness that he might consider her inhospitable. neverthe- less, her going behind the bar and picking up a bot- tle came somewhat as a relief to him. “no, thank you," at last he said; and then as he leaned heavily on the bar: “but i would very much like to ask you a question.” instantly, to his great surprise, the girl was eye- ing him with mingled reproach and coquetry. so he was going to do it! was it possible that he thought so lightly of her, she wondered. with all her heart she wished that he would not make the same mistake that others had. “i know what it is — every stranger asks it w girl of the golden west but i didn't think you would. you want to know if i am decent? well, i am, you bet!” she returned, a defiant note creeping into her voice as she uttered the concluding words. “oh, girl, i'm not blind!” his eyes quailed be- fore the look that flamed in hers. “and that was not the question." instinctively something told the girl that the man spoke the truth, but notwithstanding which, she per- mitted her eyes to express disbelief and “dear me suz!” fell from her lips with an odd little laugh. on the other hand, johnson declined to treat the subject other than seriously. he had no desire, of course, to enlarge upon the unconventionality of her attitude, but he felt that his feelings towards her, even if they were only friendly, justified him in giv- ing her a warning. moreover, he refused to admit to himself that this was a mere chance meeting. he had a consciousness, vague, but nevertheless real that, at last, after all his searching, fate had brought him face to face with the one woman in all the world for him. unknown to himself, therefore, there was a sort of jealous proprietorship in his manner towards her as he now said: “what i meant was this: i am sorry to find you here almost at the mercy of the passer-by, where a man may come, may drink, may rob you if he will —" and here a flush of shame spread over his features mar girl of the golden west in spite of himself — " and where, i daresay, more than one has laid claim to a kiss." the girl turned upon him in good-natured con- tempt. “there's a good many people claimin' things they never git. i've got my first kiss to give.” once more a brief silence fell upon them in which the girl busied herself with her cash box. she was not unaware that his eyes were upon her, but she was by no means sure that he believed her words. nor could she tell herself, unfortunately for her peace of mind, that it made no difference to her. “have you been here long?” suddenly he asked. “ yep.” “lived in the polka ?” “ nope.” “where do you live?” “ cabin up the mountain a little ways." “ cabin up the mountain a little ways," echoed johnson, reflectively. the next instant the little figure before him had faded from his sight and in- stead there appeared a vision of the little hut on the top of cloudy mountain. only a few hours back he had stood on the precipice which looked towards it, and had felt a vague, indefinable something, had heard a voice speak to him out of the vastness which he now believed to have been her spirit calling to him. girl of the golden west “ you're worth something better than this," after a while he murmured with the tenderness of real love in his voice. “what's better'n this ? ” questioned the girl with a toss of her pretty blonde head. “i ain't a-boastin' but if keepin' this saloon don't give me sort of a posi- tion 'round here i dunno what does." but the next moment there had flashed through her mind a new thought concerning him. she came out from behind the bar and confronted him with the question: “look 'ere, you ain't one o' them exhorters from the missionaries' camp, are you?” the road agent smiled. “my profession has its faults," he acknowledged, “but i am not an exhorter." but still the girl was nonplussed, and eyed him steadily for a moment or two. “you know i can't figger out jest exactly what you are?” she admitted smilingly. “well, try ...” he suggested, slightly col- ouring under her persistent gaze. “well, you ain't one o' us." “no?" “oh, i can tell — i can spot my man every time. i tell you, keepin' saloon's a great educator.” and so saying she plumped herself down in a chair and went on very seriously now: “i dunno but what it's a uu girl of the golden west good way to bring up girls — they git to know things. now," and here she looked at him long and ear. nestly, “i'd trust you." johnson was conscious of a guilty feeling, though he said as he took a seat beside her: “you would trust me?". the girl nodded an assent and observed in a tone that was intended to be thoroughly conclusive: “notice i danced with you to-night?”. “yes," was his brief reply, though the next mo- ment he wondered that he had not found something more to say. "i seen from the first that you were the real article." “i beg your pardon," he said absently, still lost in thought. “why, that was a compliment i handed out to you," returned the girl with a pained look on her face. “oh!” he ejaculated with a faint little smile. now the girl, who had drawn up her chair close to his, leaned over and said in a low, confidential voice: “your kind don't prevail much here. i can tell - i got what you call a quick eye.” as might be expected johnson flushed guiltily at this remark. no different, for that matter, would girl of the golden west е a man e conscience was have acted many a man whose conscience was far clearer. “oh, i'm afraid that men like me prevail — pre- vail, as you say, — almost everywhere,” he said, lay- ing such stress on the words that it would seem al- most impossible for anyone not to see that they were shot through with self-depreciation. the girl gave him a playful dig with her elbow. “go on! what are you givin' me! o'course they don't .. .!” she laughed outright; but the next instant checking herself, went on with abso- lute ingenuousness: “before i went on that trip to monterey i tho't rance here was the genuine thing in a gent, but the minute i kind o' glanced over you on the road i—i seen he wasn't.” she stopped, a realisation having suddenly been borne in upon her that perhaps she was laying her heart too bare to him. to cover up her embarrassment, therefore, she took refuge, as before, in hospitality, and rushing over to the bar she called to nick to come and serve mr. johnson with a drink, only to dismiss him the mo- ment he put his head through the door with: “never mind, i'll help mr. johnson m'self.” turn- ing to her visitor again, she said: “have your whisky with water, won't you?". “but i don't —” began johnson in protest. “say," interrupted the girl, falling back into her girl of the golden west favourite position of resting both elbows on the bar, her face in her hands, “ i've got you figgered out. you're awful good or awful bad.” a remark which seemed to amuse the man, for he laughed heartily. “now, what do you mean by that?" presently he asked. “well, i mean so good that you're a teetotaller, or so bad that you're tired o' life an' whisky." johnson shook his head. “on the contrary, although i'm not good, i've lived and i've liked life pretty well. it's been bully!” surprised and delighted with his enthusiasm, the girl raised her eyes to his, which look he mistook — not unnaturally after all that had been said — for one of encouragement. a moment more and the re- straint that he had exercised over himself had vanished completely “so have you liked it, girl," he went on, trying vainly to get possession of her hand, “ only you haven't lived, you haven't lived — not with your na- ture. you see i've got a quick eye, too." to johnson's amazement she flushed and averted her face. following the direction of her eyes he saw nick standing in the door with a broad grin on his face. “you git, nick! what do you mean by. ..?" girl of the golden west cried out the girl in a tone that left no doubt in the minds of her hearers that she was annoyed, if not angry, at the intrusion. nick disappeared into the dance-hall as though shot out of a gun; whereupon, the girl turned to johnson with: “i haven't lived? that's good!” johnson's next words were insinuating, but his voice was cold in comparison with the fervent tones of a moment previous. "oh, you know!" was what he said, seating him- self at the poker table. “no, i don't,” contradicted the girl, taking a seat opposite him. “yes, you do,” he insisted. “well, say it's an even chance i do an' an even chance i don't,” she parried. once more the passion in the man was stirring. "i mean," he explained in a voice that barely reached her, “ life for all it's worth, to the uttermost, to the last drop in the.cup, so that it atones for what's gone before, or may come after.” the girl's face wore a puzzled look as she an- swered: “no, i don't believe i know what you mean by them words. is it a—” she cut her sentence short, and springing up, cried out: “oh, lord — oh, excuse me, i sat on my gun!” girl of the golden west johnson looked at her, genuine amusement depicted on his face. “look here," said the girl, suddenly perching herself upon the table, “ i'm goin' to make you an offer." “an offer?” johnson fairly snatched the words out of her mouth. “you're going to make me an offer ? " " it's this,” declared the girl with a pleased look on her face. “if ever you need to be staked -" johnson eyed her uncomprehendingly. “ which o' course you don't," she hastened to add. “name your price. it's yours jest for the style i git from you an' the deportment.” "deportment? me?” a half-grin formed over johnson's face as he asked the question; then he said: “well, i never heard before that my so ciety was so desirable. apart from the financial aspect of this matter, i -" “say," broke in the girl, gazing at him in help- less admiration, “ ain't that great? ain't that great? oh, you got to let me stand treat!" “no, really i would prefer not to take anything," responded johnson, putting a restraining hand on her as she was about to leap from the table. at that moment nick's hurried footsteps reached their ears. turning, the girl, with a swift gesture, girl of the golden west waved him back. there was a brief silence, then johnson spoke: “say, girl, you're like finding some new kind of flower." a slight laugh of confusion was his answer. the next moment, however, she went on, speaking very slowly and seriously: “well, we're kind o' rough up here, but we're reachin' out." johnson noted immediately the change in her voice. there was no mistaking the genuineness of her emotion, nor the wistful look in her eyes. it was plain that she yearned for someone who would teach her the ways of the outside world; and when the man looked at the girl with the lamp-light soft- ening her features, he felt her sincerity, and was pleased by her confidence. “now, i take it," continued the girl with a vague, dreamy look on her face, “that's what we're all put on this earth for — everyone of us — is to rise our. selves up in the world — to reach out.” “that's true, that's true," returned johnson with gentle and perfect sympathy. “i venture to say that there isn't a man who hasn't thought seriously about that. i have. if only one knew how to reach out for something one hardly dares even hope for. why, it's like trying to catch the star shining just ahead." girl of the golden west the girl could not restrain her enthusiasm. “that's the cheese! you've struck it!” at this juncture nick appeared and refused to be ordered away. at length, the girl inquired some- what impatiently: “well, what is it, nick?” " i've been tryin' to say," announced the bar- keeper, whose face wore an expression of uneasiness as he pointed to the window, “that i have seen an ugly-lookin' greaser hanging around outside." “a greaser!" exclaimed the girl, uneasily. “let me look.” and with that she made a move- ment towards the window, but was held back by johnson's detaining hand. all too well did he know that the mexican was one of his men waiting impa- tiently for the signal. so, with an air of concern, for he did not intend that the girl should run any risk, however remote, he said authoritatively: “ don't go!” “why not?" demanded the girl. johnson sat strangely silent. “i'll bolt the windows !" cried nick. hardly had he disappeared into the dance-hall when a low whistle came to their ears. “the signal — they're waiting," said johnson under his breath, and shot a quick look of inquiry at the girl to see whether she had heard the sound. a look told him that she had, and was uneasy over it. girl of the golden west , “don't that sound korrid?” said the girl, reach- ing the bar in a state of perturbation. “say, i'm awful glad you're here. nick's so nervous. he knows what a lot o' money i got. why, there's a little fortune in that keg." johnson started; then rising slowly he went over to the keg and examined it with interest. “ in there?” he asked, with difficulty concealing his excitement. “yes; the boys sleep around it nights,” she went on to confide. johnson looked at her curiously. “but when they're gone — isn't that rather a careless place to leave it?" quietly the girl came from behind the bar and went over and stood beside the keg; when she spoke her eyes flashed dangerously. “they'd have to kill me before they got it," she said, with cool deliberation. “oh, i see — it's your money." “no, it's the boys'.” a look of relief crossed johnson's features. “oh, that's different,” he contended; and then brightening up somewhat, he went on: “now, i wouldn't risk my life for that.” "oh, yes, you would, yes, you would," declared the girl with feeling. a moment later she was down on her knees putting bag after bag of the girl of the golden west was precious gold-dust and coins into the keg. when they were all in she closed the lid, and putting her foot down hard to make it secure, she repeated : “oh, yes, you would, if you seen how hard they got it. when i think of it, i nearly cry." johnson had listened absorbedly, and was strangely affected by her words. in her rapidly- filling eyes, in the wave of colour that surged in her cheeks, in the voice that shook despite her efforts to control it, he read how intense was her interest in the welfare of the miners. how the men must adore her! unconsciously the girl arose, and said: “there's somethin' awful pretty in the way the boys hold out before they strike it, somethin' awful pretty in the face o' rocks, an' clay an' alkali. oh, lord, what a life it is anyway! they eat dirt, they. sleep in dirt, they breathe dirt 'til their backs are bent, their hands twisted an' warped. they're all wind-swept an' blear-eyed i tell you, an' some o' them jest lie down in their sweat beside the sluices, an' they don't never rise up again. i've seen 'em there!” she paused reminiscently; then, pointing to the keg, she went on haltingly: “i got some money there of ol brownie's. he was lyin' out in the sun on a pile o'clay two weeks ago, an' i guess the only clean thing about him was his soul, an' he was quittin', quittin', quittin', right there on the clay, - - - - - girl of the golden west an' quittin' hard. oh, so hard!” once more she stopped and covered her face with her hands as if to shut out the horror of it all. presently she had her- self under control and resumed: “yes, he died - died jest like a dog. you wanted to shoot 'im to help 'im along quicker. before he went he sez to me: 'girl, give it to my ol' woman. that was all he said, an' he went. she'll git it, all right." with every word that the girl uttered, the iron had entered deeper into johnson's soul. up to the present time he had tried to regard his profession, if he looked at it at all, from the point of view which he inherited from his father. it was not, in all truthfulness, what he would have chosen; it was something that, at times, he lamented; but, neverthe- less, he had practised it and had despoiled the miners with but few moments of remorse. but now, he was beginning to look upon things differently. in a brief space of time a woman had impelled him to see his actions in their true light; new ambitions and desires awakened, and he looked downward as if it were impossible to meet her honest eye. “and that's what aches you," the girl was now saying. “there ain't one o' them men workin' for themselves alone — the lord never put it into no man's heart to make a beast or a pack-horse o' him- self, except for some woman or some child.” she halted a moment, and throwing up her hands impul- is an girl of the golden west sively, she cried: “ain't it wonderful — ain't it wonderful that instinct? ain't it wonderful what a man'll do when it comes to a woman — ain't it won- derful?” once more she waited as if expecting him to corroborate her words; but he remained strangely silent. a moment later when he raised his troubled eyes, he saw that hers were dry and twinkling. “well, the boys use me as a — a sort of lady bank,” presently she said; and then added with an- other quick change of expression, and in a voice that showed great determination: “you bet l'll drop down dead before anyone'll get a dollar o' theirs outer the polka ! " impulsively the road agent's hand went out to her, and with it went a mental resolution that so far as he was concerned no hard-working miner of cloudy mountain need fear for his gold! “that's right," was what he said. “i'm with you — i'd like to see anyone get that.” he dropped her hand and laid his on the keg; then with a voice charged with much feeling, he added: “girl, i wish to heaven i could talk more with you, but i can't. by daybreak i must be a long ways off. i'm sorry - i should have liked to have called at your cabin." the girl shot him a furtive glance. “must you be a-movin' so soon?" she asked. “yes; i'm only waiting till the posse gets back ore girl of the golden west and you're safe." and even as he spoke his trained ear caught the sound of horses hoofs. “why, they're coming now!” he exclaimed with suppressed excitement, and his eyes immediately fastened them- selves on his saddle. the girl looked her disappointment when she said: “i'm awfully sorry you've got to go. i was goin' to say —” she stopped, and began to roll the keg back to its place. now she took the lantern from the bar and placed it on the keg; then turning to him once more she went on in a voice that was dis- tinctly persuasive: “if you didn't have to go so soon, i would like to have you come up to the cabin to-night an' we would talk o' reachin' out up there. you see, the boys will be back here — we close the polka at one — any time after ..." hesitatingly, helplessly, johnson stared at the girl before him. his acceptance, he realised only too well, meant a pleasant hour or two for him, of which there were only too few in the mad career that he was following, and he wanted to take advantage of it; on the other hand, his better judgment told him that already he should be on his way. “why, i—i should ride on now." he began and then stopped, the next moment, however, he threw down his hat on the table in resignation and an- nounced: “i'll come.” girl of the golden west can “oh, good!” cried the girl, making no attempt to conceal her delight. “you can use this,' she went on, handing him the lantern. “it's the straight trail up; you can't miss it. but i say, don't expect too much o' me — i've only had thirty-two dollars' worth o' education.” despite her struggle to con- trol herself, her voice broke and her eyes filled with tears. “p'r’aps if i'd had more,” she kept on, regretfully, “why, you can't tell what i might have been. say, that's a terrible tho't, ain't it? what we might a been — an' i know it when i look at you." johnson was deeply touched at the girl's distress, and his voice broke, too, as he said: “yes, what we might have been is a terrible thought, and i know it, girl, when i look at you — when i look at you.” “you bet!” ejaculated the girl. and then to johnson's consternation she broke down completely, burying her face in her hands and sobbing out: “oh, 'tain't no use, i'm rotten, i'm ignorant, i don't know nothin' an' i never knowed it 'till to-night! the boys always tol me i knowed so much, but they're such damn liars ! ” in an instant johnson was beside her, patting her hand caressingly; she felt the sympathy in his touch and was quick to respond to it. “don't you care, girl, you're all right,” he told her, choking back with difficulty the tears in his own girl of the golden west voice. “you're heart's all right, that's the main thing. and as for your looks ? well, to me you've got the face of an angel — the face —” he broke off abruptly and ended with: “oh, but i must be going now!” a moment more and he stood framed in the door- way, his saddle in one hand and the girl's lantern in the other, torn by two emotions which grappled with each other in his bosom. “johnson, what the devil's the matter with you?" he muttered half- aloud; then suddenly pulling himself together he stumbled rather than walked out of the polka into the night. motionless and trying to check her sobs, the girl remained where he had left her; but a few minutes later, when nick entered, all trace of her tears had disappeared. “nick," said she, all smiles now, “run over to the palmetto restaurant an' tell 'em to send me up two charlotte rusks an'a lemming turnover — a good, big, fat one — jest as quick as they can — right up to the cabin for supper.". “he says i have the face of an angel,” is what the girl repeated over and over again to herself when perched up again on the poker table after the won- dering barkeeper had departed on her errand, and for a brief space of time her countenance reflected the joy that johnson's parting words had imprinted er girl of the golden west on her heart. but in the girl's character there was an element too prosaic, and too practical, to permit her thoughts to dwell long in a region lifted far above the earth. it was inevitable, therefore, that the no- tion should presently strike her as supremely comic and, quickly leaping to the floor, she let out the one word which, however adequately it may have ex- pressed her conflicting emotions, is never by any chance to be found in the vocabulary of angels in good standing. ix notwithstanding that the palmetto was the most pretentious building in cloudy, and was the only rooming and eating house that outwardly asserted its right to be called an hotel, its saloon contrasted un- favourably with its rival, the polka. there was not the individuality of the girl there to charm away the impress of coarseness settled upon it by the loafers, the habitual drunkards and the riffraff of the camp, who were not tolerated elsewhere. in short, it did not have that certain indefinable something which gave to the polka saloon an almost homelike ap- pearance, but was a drab, squalid, soulless place with nothing to recommend it but its size. in a small parlour pungent at all times with the odour of liquor,— but used only on rare occasions, most of the palmetto's patrons preferring the even more stilling atmosphere of the bar-room,- the wells fargo agent had been watching and waiting ever since he had left the polka saloon. on a table in front of him was a bottle, for it was a part of ashby's scheme of things to solace thus all such weary hours. although a shrewd judge of women of the nina micheltoreña type and by no means unmindful of their mercurial temperament, ashby, nevertheless, rare a girl of the golden west bacco and spirits peculiar to this room, with little or no ventilation. it was enough to sicken anyone, but both men, accustomed to such places in the pursuit of their calling, apparently thought nothing of it, the sheriff seemingly absorbed in contemplating the long ash at the end of his cigar, but, in reality, turn- ing over in his mind whether he should leave the room or not. at length, he inaugurated a little con- test of opinion. “this woman isn't coming, that's certain," he de- clared, impatiently. "i rather think she will; she promised not to fail me," was the other's quiet answer; and he added: “ in ten minutes you'll see her.” it was a rash remark and expressive of a confi- dence that he by no means felt. as a matter of fact, it was induced solely by the cynical smile which he perceived on the sheriff's face. "you, evidently, take no account of the fact that the lady may have changed her mind," observed rance, lighting a fresh cigar. “the nina michel- toreñas are fully as privileged as others of their sex." as he drained his glass ashby gave the speaker a sharp glance; another side of rance's character had cropped out. moreover, ashby's quick intui- tion told him that the other's failure to catch the out- law was not troubling him nearly as much as was the girl of the golden west blow which his conceit had probably received at the hands of the girl. it was, therefore, in an indulgent tone that he said: “no, rance, not this one nor this time. you mark my words, the woman is through with ramer- rez. at least, she is so jealous that she thinks she is. she'll turn up here, never fear; she means business." the shoulders of mr. jack rance strongly sug- gested a shrug, but the man himself said nothing. they were anything but sympathetic companions, these two officers, and in the silence that ensued rance formulated mentally more than one dispar- aging remark about the big man sitting opposite to him. it is possible, of course, that the sheriff's rebuff by the girl, together with the wild goose chase which he had recently taken against his better judg- ment, had something to do with this bitterness; but it was none the less true that he found himself won- dering how ashby had succeeded in acquiring his great reputation. among the things that he held against him was his everlasting propensity to boast of his achievements, to say nothing of the pedestal upon which the boys insisted upon placing him. was this wells fargo's most famous agent? was this the man whose warnings were given such cre- dence that they stirred even the largest of the gold girl of the golden west camps into a sense of insecurity? and at this rance indulged again in a fit of mental merriment at the other's expense. but, although he would have denied it in toto, the truth of the matter was that the sheriff was jealous of ashby. witty, generous, and a high liver, the latter was generally regarded as a man who fasci- nated women; moreover, he was known to be a favourite — and here the shoe pinched — with the girl. true, the demands of his profession were such as to prevent his staying long in any camp. nevertheless, it seemed to rance that he contrived frequently to turn up at the polka when the boys were at the diggings. after ashby's observation the conversation by mutual, if unspoken, consent, was switched into other channels. but it may be truth fully said that rance did not wholly recover his mental equilibrium until a door was heard to open noiselessly and some whis- pered words in spanish fell upon their ears. now the sheriff, as well as ashby, had the de- tective instinct fully developed; moreover, both men knew a few words of that language and had an ex- treme curiosity to hear the conversation going on between a man and a woman, who were standing just outside in a sort of hallway. as a result, therefore, both officers sprang to the door with the hope — if girl of the golden west mar indeed it was nina micheltoreña as they surmised - that they might catch a word or two which would give them a clue to what was likely to take place at the coming interview. it came sooner than they ex- pected. “... ramerrez — five thousand dollars !" reached their ears in a soft, spanish voice. ashby needed nothing more than this. in an in- stant, much to the sheriff's astonishment, and moving marvellously quick for a man of his heavy build, he was out of the room, leaving rance to face a woman with a black mantilla thrown over her head who, presently, entered by another door. nina micheltoreña, for it was she, did not favour him with as much as an icy look. nor did the sher- iff give any sign of knowing her; a wise proceeding as it turned out, for a quick turn of the head and a subtle movement of the woman's shoulders told him that she was in anything but a quiet state of mind. one glance towards the door behind him, however, and the reason of her anger was all too plain: a mexican was vainly struggling in the clutches of ashby. “why are you dragging him in?” far from quailing before him as did her confederate, she con- fronted ashby with eyes that flashed fire. “he came with me --" girl of the golden west ashby cut her short. “we don't allow greasers in this camp and —" he began in a throaty voice. “ but he is waiting to take me back!” she ob- jected, and then added: “i wish him to wait for me outside, and unless you allow him to l'll go at once." and with these words she made a movement towards the door. ashby laid one restraining hand upon her, while with the other he held on to the mexican. of a sud- den there had dawned upon him the conviction that for once in his life he had made a grievous mistake he had thought, by the detention of her confederate, to have two strings to his bow, but one glance at the sneeringly censorious expression on the sheriff's face convinced him that no information would be forth- coming from the woman while in her present rebel- lious mood. “ all right, my lady,” he said, for the time being yielding to her will, "have your way." and turn- ing now to the mexican, he added none too gently: “here you, get out!”. whereupon the mexican slunk out of the room. “there's no use of your getting into a rage," went on ashby, turning to the woman in a slightly conciliatory manner. “i calculated that the greaser would be in on the job, too." girl of the golden west all through this scene rance had been sitting back in his chair chewing his cigar in contemptuous silence, while his face wore a look of languid insolence, a fact which, apparently, did not disturb the woman in the least, for she ignored him completely. " it was well for you, señor ashby, that you let him go. i tell you frankly that in another moment i should have gone.” and now throwing back her mantilla she took out a cigarette from a dainty, little case and lit it and coolly blew a cloud of smoke in rance's face, saying: “ it depends on how you treat me — you, mr. jack rance, as well as señor ashby — whether we come to terms or not. per- haps i had better go away anyway,” she concluded with a shrug of admirably simulated indifference. this time ashby sat perfectly still. it was not difficult to perceive that her anger was decreasing with every word that she uttered; nor did he fail to note how fuently she spoke english, a slight spanish accent giving added charm to her wonderfully soft and musical voice. how gloriously beautiful, he told himself, she looked as she stood there, voluptu- ous, compelling, alluring, the expression that had been almost diabolical, gradually fading from her face. was it possible, he asked himself, that all this loveliness was soiled forever? he felt that there was something pitiful in the fact that the woman standing before him represented negotiable property aco girl of the golden west s me which could be purchased by any passer-by who had a few more nuggets in his possession than his neigh- bour; and, perhaps, because of his knowledge of the piteous history of this former belle of monterey he put a little more consideration into the voice that said: “ all right, nina, we'll get down to business. what have you to say to us?” by this time nina's passionate anger had burned itself out. in anticipation, perhaps, of what she was about to do, she looked straight ahead of her into space. it was not because she was assailed by some transient emotion to forswear her treacherous desire for vengeance; she had no illusion of that kind. too vividly she recalled the road agent's indifferent manner at their last interview for any feeling to dwell in her heart other than hatred. it was that she was summoning to appear a vision scarcely less attractive, however pregnant with tragedy, than that of seeing herself avenged: a gay, extravagant career in mexico or spain which the reward would procure for her. that was what she was seeing, and with a pious wish for its confirmation she began to make herself a fresh cigarette, rolling it dexterously with her white, delicate fingers, and not until her task was accomplished and her full, red lips were sending forth tiny clouds of smoke did she announce: “ramerrez was in cloudy mountain to-night." girl of the golden west but however much of a surprise this assertion was to both men, neither gave vent to an exclamation. instead rance regarded his elegantly booted feet; ashby looked hard at the woman as if he would read the truth in her eyes; while as for nina, she con- tinued to puff away at her little cigarette after the manner of one that has appealed not in vain to the magic power which can paint out the past and fill the blank with the most beautiful of dreams. the wells fargo man was the first to make any comment; he asked: “you know this?" and then as she surveyed them through a scented cloud and bowed her head, he added: “how do you know it?” “that i shall not tell you," replied the woman, firmly. ashby made an impatient movement towards her with the question: “where was he?". “oh, come, ashby!” put in rance, speaking for the first time. “she's putting up a game on us." in a flash nina wheeled around and with eyes that blazed advanced to the table where the sheriff was sitting. indeed, there was something so tigerish about the woman that the sheriff, in alarm, quickly pushed back his chair. “i am not lying, jack rance." there was an evil glitter in her eye as she watched a sarcastic smile girl of the golden west playing around his lips. “oh, yes, i know you — you are the sheriff," and so saying a peal of contemptuous merriment burst from her, "and ramerrez was in the camp not less than two hours ago." ashby could hardly restrain his excitement. “and you saw him ? " came from him. “yes," was her answer. both men sprang to their feet; it was impossible to doubt any longer that she spoke the truth. “what's his game?" demanded rance. the woman answered his question with a question. “how about the reward, señor ashby?” “you needn't worry about that — i'll see that you get what's coming to you," replied the wells fargo agent already getting into his coat. “but how are we to know?" inquired rance, like- wise getting ready to leave. “is he an american or a mexican?" “to-night he's an american, that is, he's dressed and looks like one. but the reward — you swear you're playing fair?" “on my honour," ashby assured her. the woman's face stood clear — cruelly clear in the light of the kerosene lamp above her head. about her mouth and eyes there was a repellent ex- pression. her mind, still working vividly, was re- viewing the past; and a bitter memory prompted the girl of the golden west words which were said however with a smile that was still seductive: “ try to recall, señor ashby, what strangers were in the polka to-night?" at these ominous words the men started and re- garded each other questioningly. their keen and trained intelligences were greatly distressed at being so utterly in the dark. for an instant, it is true, the thought of the greaser that ashby had brought in rose uppermost in their minds, but only to be dis- missed quickly when they recalled the woman's words concerning the way that the road agent was dressed. a moment more, however, and a strange thought had fastened itself on one of their active minds — a thought which, although persisting in forcing itself upon the sheriff's consideration, was in the end re- jected as wholly improbable. but who was it then? in his intensity rance let his cigar go out. “ah!” at last he cried. “johnson, by the eternal!” “ johnson ? " echoed ashby, wholly at sea and surprised at the look of corroboration in nina's eyes. “yes, johnson," went on rance, insistently. why had he not seen at once that it was johnson who was the road agent! there could be no mis- take! “you weren't there," he explained hur- riedly, “when he came in and began flirting with the girl and _" girl of the golden west vere “ ramerrez making love to the girl?" broke in ashby. “ye gods ! ". “the girl? so that's the woman he's after now!” nina laughed bitterly. “well, she's not destined to have him for long, i can tell you!” and with that she reached out for the bottle on the table and poured herself a small glass of whisky and swallowed it. when she turned her lips were tightly shut over her brilliant teeth, a thousand thoughts came rushing into her brain. there was no longer any compunction — she would strike now and deep. through her efforts alone the man would be captured, and she gloried in the thought. “here — here is something that will interest you!” she said; and putting her hand in her bosom drew out a soiled, faded photograph. “there — that will settle him for good and all! never again will he boast of trilling with nina micheltoreña — with me, a micheltoreña in whose veins runs the best and proudest blood of california !” ashby fairly snatched the photograph out of her hand and, after one look at it, passed it over to the sheriff. “good of him, isn't it?" sneered nina; and then seemingly trying by her very vehemence to impress upon herself the impossibility of his ever being any- thing but an episode in her life, she added: “i hate him!" girl of the golden west the picture was indeed an excellent one. it rep- resented ramerrez in the gorgeous dress of a cabal- lero — and the outlaw was a fine specimen of that spectacular class of men. but rance studied the photograph only long enough to be sure that no mis- take was possible. with a quick movement he put it away in his pocket and looked long and hard at the figure of the degraded woman standing before him and revelling in her treachery. in that time he for- got that anyone had ever entertained a kind thought about her; he forgot that she once was respected as well as admired; he was conscious only of regarding her with a far deeper disgust and repugnance than he held towards others much her inferior in birth and education. but, presently, his face grew a shade whiter, if that were possible, and he cursed himself for not having thought of the danger to which the girl might even now be exposed. in less than a minute, therefore, both men stood ready for the work before them. but on the threshold just before go- ing out into the fierce storm that had burst during the last few minutes, he paused and called back: “you mexican devil! if any harm comes to the girl, i'll strangle you with my own hands!” and not waiting to hear the woman's mocking laughter he passed out, followed by ashby, into the storm. Х in the still black night and with no guide other than the dimly-lighted lantern which she carried, the girl had started for home — a bit of shelter in the middle of a great silence, a little fortress in the wilderness, as it were, with its barred doors and windows — on the top of cloudy mountain. to be sure, it was not the first time that she had fol- lowed the trail alone: day and night, night and day, for as long, almost, as she could remember, she had been doing it; indeed, she had watched the alders, oaks and dwarf pines, that bordered the trail, grow year by year as she herself had grown, until now the whispering of the mountain's night winds spoke a language as familiar as her own; but never before had she climbed up into the clean, wide, free sweep of this unbounded horizon, the very air un- tainted and limitless as the sky itself, with so keen and uncloying a pleasure. but there was a new significance attached to her home-coming to-night: was she not to entertain there her first real visitor ? at the threshold of her cabin the girl, her cheeks aglow and eyes as bright, almost, as the red cape that enveloped her lithe, girlish figure, paused, and swinging her lantern high above her head so that its light was reflected in the room, she endeavoured to sv girl of the golden west ere imagine what would be the impression that a stranger would receive coming suddenly upon these surroundings. and well might she have paused, for no eye ever rested upon a more conglomerate ensemble! yet, withal, there was a certain attractiveness about this log-built, low, square room, half-papered with gaudy paper — the supply, evidently, having fallen short, — that was as unexpected as it was unusual. upon the floor, which had a covering of corn sacks, were many beautiful bear and wolf skins, indian rugs and navajo blankets; while overhead screening some old trunks and boxes neatly piled up high in the loft, which was reached by a ladder, generally swung out of the way — hung a faded, woollen blanket; from the opposite corner there fell an old, patchwork, silk quilt. dainty white curtains in all their crispness were at the windows, and upon the walls were many rare and weird tro- phies of the chase, not to mention the innumerable pictures that had been taken from “godey's lady book" and other periodicals of that time. a little book-shelf, that had been fashioned out of a box, was filled with old and well-read books; while the mantel that guarded the fireplace was ornamented with various small articles, conspicuous among which were a clock that beat loud, automatic time with a brassy resonance, a china dog and cat of most gaudy ss wer girl of the golden west colours, a whisky bottle and two tumblers, and some winter berries in a jar. there were two pieces of furniture in the room, however, which were placed with an eye to attract attention, and these the girl prized most highly: one was a homemade rocking-chair that had been made out of a barrel and had been dyed, unsuccess- fully, with indigo blue, and had across its back a knitted tidy with a large, upstanding, satin bow; the other was a homemade, pine wardrobe that had been rudely decorated by one of the boys of the camp and in which the girl kept her dresses, and was piled up high towards the ceiling with souvenirs of her trip to monterey, including the hat-boxes and wicker basket that had come well nigh to loading down the stage on that memorable journey. but it was upon her bed and bedroom fixings that the greatest attempt at decoration had been made; partitioning off the room, as it were, and at the same time forming a canopy about the bed, were curtains of cheap, gaudy material, through the part- ings of which there was to be had a glimpse of a daintily-made-up bed, whose pillows were made con- spicuous by the hand-made lace that trimmed their slips, as was the bureau-cover, and upon which, in charming disarray, were various articles generally included in a woman's toilet, not to mention the numberless strings of coloured beads and other bits girl of the golden west of feminine adornment. a table standing in the centre of the room was covered with a small, white cloth, while falling in folds from beneath this was a faded, red cotton cover. the table was laid for one, the charlotte “rusks " and "lemming " turn- over — each on a separate plate — which nick had been commissioned to procure, earlier in the even- ing, from the palmetto restaurant, looming up prom- inently in the centre; and on another plate were some chipped beef and biscuits. a large lamp was sus- pended from the ceiling in the centre of the room and was quaintly, if not grotesquely, shaded; while other lamps flanked by composition metal reflectors concentrated light upon the girl's bureau, the book- shelf and mantel, leaving the remainder of the room in variant shadow. all in all, what with the fire that was burning cheerily in the grate and the strong odour of steam- ing coffee, the room had a soft glow and home. like air that was most inviting. in that brief moment that the girl stood in the doorway reviewing her possessions, a multitude of expressions drifted across her countenance, a multi- tude of possibilities thrilled within her bosom. but however much she would have liked to analyse these strange feelings, she resisted the inclination and gave all her attention to the amusing scene that was being enacted before her eyes. . ema m girl of the golden west for some time billy jackrabbit had been standing by the table looking greedily down upon the char- lotte russes there. he was on the point of putting his finger through the centre of one of them when wowkle — the indian woman-of-all-work of the cabin, who sat upon the floor before the fire sing- ing a lullaby to the papoose strapped to its cradle on her back — turning suddenly her gaze in his direction, was just in time to prevent him. " charlotte rusk — palmetto rest'rant — not take,” were her warning words. jackrabbit drew himself up quickly, but he was furious at interference from a source where it was wholly unexpected. “hm— me honest,” he growled fiercely, flash- ing her a malignant look. “huh?" was wowkle's monosyllabic observation delivered in a guttural tone. all of a sudden, jackrabbit's gaze was arrested by a piece of paper which lay upon the floor and in which had been wrapped the charlotte russes; he went over to it quickly, picked it up, opened it and pro ceeded to collect on his finger the cream that had adhered to it. "huh!” he growled delightedly, holding up his finger for wowkle's inspection. the next instant, however, he slumped down beside her upon the floor, where both the man and the woman sat in silence girl of the golden west gazing into the fire. the man was the first to speak. “ send me up — polka. say, p'haps me marry you — huh?” he said, coming to the point bluntly. wowkle's eyes were glued to the fire; she answered dully: “me don't know." there was a silence, and then: “me don't know," observed jackrabbit thought- fully. a moment later, however, he added: “me marry you — how much me get give fatha — huh?” wowkle raised her narrowing eyes to his and told him with absolute indifference: “huh — me don't know." jackrabbit's face darkened. he pondered for a long time. “me don't know — " suddenly he began and then stopped. they had been silent for some moments, when at last he ventured: “me give fatha four dolla ”— and here he indicated the number with his two hands, the finger with the cream locking those of the other hand —"and one blanket.” wowkle's eyes dilated. “better keep blanket - baby cold," was her ambiguous answer. whereupon jackrabbit emitted a low growl. presently he handed her his pipe, and while she girl of the golden west puffed steadily away he fondled caressingly the string of beads which she wore around her neck. “you sing for get those ?” he asked. “me sing,” she replied dully, beginning almost instantly in soft, nasal tones: “my days are as um grass”- te as un jackrabbit's face cleared. “huh!” he growled in rejoicement. immediately wowkle edged up close to him and together they continued in chorus: “ or as um faded flo'r, um wintry winds sweep o'er um plain, we pe'ish in um ho'r." “ but gar," said the man when the song was ended, at the same time taking his pipe away from her, “to-morrow we go missionary — sing like hell — get whisky." but as wowkle made no answer, once more a silence fell upon them. “we pe'ish in um ho'r," suddenly repeated jack- rabbit, half-singing, half-speaking the words, and rising quickly started for the door. at the table, however, he halted and inquired: “ all right go missionary to-morrow – get marry — huh?” girl of the golden west wowkle hesitated, then rose, and finally started slowly towards him. half-way over she stopped and reminded him in a most apathetic manner: “p'haps me not stay marry to you for long." “huh — seven monse?” queried jackrabbit in the same tone. “ six monse,” came laconically from the woman. in nowise disconcerted by her answer, the indian now asked: “ you come soon?”. wowkle thought a moment; then suddenly edg- ing up close to him she promised to come to him after the girl had had her supper. "huh!” fairly roared the indian, his coal-black eyes glowing as he looked at her. it was at this juncture that the girl, after hang- ing up her lantern on a peg on the outer door, broke in unexpectedly upon the strange pair of lovers. dumbfounded, the woman and the man stood gap- ing at her. wowkle was the first to regain her com- posure, and bending over the table she turned up the light. “hello, billy jackrabbit!" greeted the girl, breezily. “fixed it?” “me fix,” he grunted. “that's good! now git!” ordered the girl in the same happy tone that had characterised her greet- ing. girl of the golden west slowly, stealthily, jackrabbit left the cabin, the two women, though for different reasons, watching him go until the door had closed behind him. “now, wowkle," said the girl, turning to her with a smile, “it's for two to-night." wowkle's eyelashes twinkled up inquisitorially. “huh?" “yep.” wowkle's eyes narrowed to pin-points. “come anotha ? never before come anotha," was her significant comment. “never you mind." the girl voiced the repri- mand without the twitching of an eyelid; and then as she hung up her cape upon the wardrobe, she added: “ pick up the room, wowkle!” the big-hipped, full-bosomed woman did not move but stood in all her stolidness gazing at her mistress like one in a dream; whereupon the girl, exasperated beyond measure at the other's placidity, rushed over to her and shook her so violently that she finally awakened to the importance of her mistress' request. “he's comin' now, now; he's comin'!" the girl was saying, when suddenly her eyes were attracted to a pair of stockings hanging upon the wall; quickly she released her hold on the woman and with a hop, skip and a jump they were down and hid away in her bureau drawer. “my roses — what did you do with them, om ove girl of the golden west wowkle?” she asked a trifle impatiently as she fumbled in the drawer. “ugh!” grunted wowkle, and pointed to a cor- ner of the bureau top. “good!” cried the girl, delightedly, as she spied them. the next instant she was busily engaged in arranging them in her hair, pausing only to take a pistol out of her pocket, which she laid on the edge of the bureau. “no offence, wowkle,” she went on thoughtfully, a moment later, “but i want you to put your best foot forward when you're waitin' on table to-night. this here company o' mine's a man o'idees. oh, he knows everythin'! sort of a damme style.” wowkle gave no sign of having heard her mis- tress' words, but kept right on tidying the room. now she went over to the cupboard and took down two cups, which she placed on the fireplace base. it was while she was in the act of laying down the last one that the girl broke in suddenly upon her thoughts with: “say, wowkle, did billy jackrabbit really pro- pose to you?” “yep — get marry," spoke up jackrabbit's promised wife without looking up. for some moments the girl continued to fumble among her possessions in the bureau drawer; at last she brought forth an orange-coloured satin ribbon, girl of the golden west at last she had succeeded in getting into one slipper and, rising, tried to stand in it; but it hurt her so frightfully that she immediately sank down upon the floor and proceeded to pat and rub and coddle her foot to ease the pain. it was while she was thus engaged that a knock came upon her cabin door. “oh, lord, here he is !” she cried, panic- stricken, and began to drag herself hurriedly across the room with the intention of concealing herself behind the curtain at the foot of the bed; while wowkle, with unusual celerity, made for the fire- place, where she stood with her back to the door, gazing into the fire. the girl had only gotten half-way across the room, however, when a voice assailed her ears. “miss, miss, kin -” came in low, subdued tones. “what? the sidney duck?" she cried, turn- ing and seeing his head poked through the window. “beg pardon, miss; i know men ain't lowed up here nohow," humbly apologised that individual; “ but, but —” vexed and flustered, the girl turned upon him a trifle irritably with: “git! git, i tell you!" “but i'm in grite trouble, miss," began the sidney duck, tearfully. “the boys are back — girl of the golden west they missed that road agent ramerrez and now they're taking it out of me. if — if you'd only speak a word for me, miss." “no-” began the girl, and stopped. the next instant she ordered wowkle to shut the window. “oh, don't be 'ard on me, miss," whimpered the man. the girl flashed him a scornful look. “now, look here, sidney duck, there's one kind o' man i can't stand, an' that's a cheat an' a thief, an' you're it,” said the girl, laying great stress upon her words. “you're no better'n that road agent ramerrez, an'" “but, miss —" interrupted the man. “miss nothin'!” snapped back the girl, tugging away at the slippers; in desperation once more she ordered: “wowkle, close the winder! close the winder!” the sidney duck glowered at her. he had ex- pected her intercession on his behalf and could not understand this new attitude of hers toward him. “public 'ouse jide!” he retorted furiously, and slammed the window. “ugh!” snarled wowkle, resentfully, her eyes full of fire. now at any other time, the sidney duck would have been made to pay dearly for his words, but ucu: girl of the golden west either the girl did not hear him, or if she did she was too engrossed to heed them; at any rate, the remark passed unnoticed. “i got it on!" presently exclaimed the girl in great joy. nevertheless, it was not without several ouches and moans that, finally, she stood upon her feet. “say, wowkle, how do you think he'll like 'em? how do they look? they feel awful!" she rattled on with a pained look on her face. but whatever would have been the indian woman's observation on the subject of tight shoes in general and those of her mistress in particular, she was not permitted to make it, for the girl, now hobbling over towards the bureau, went on to announce with sudden determination: “say, wowkle, i'm a-goin' the whole hog! yes, i'm a-goin' the whole hog," she repeated a moment later, as she drew forth various bits of finery from a chest of drawers, with which she pro- ceeded to adorn herself before the mirror. tak- ing out first a lace shawl of bold design, she drew it over her shoulders with the grace and ease of one who makes it an everyday affair rather than an occasional undertaking; then she took from a sweet- grass basket a vividly-embroidered handkerchief and saturated it with cologne, impregnating the whole room with its strong odour; finally she brought forth a pair of long, white gloves and began to stretch girl of the golden west them on. “does it look like an effort, wowkle ? " she asked, trying to get her hands into them. “ugh!" was the indian woman's comment at the very moment that a knock came upon the door. “two plates,” she added with a groan, and started for the cupboard. meanwhile the girl continued with her primping and preening, her hands flying back and forth like an automaton from her waist-line to her stockings. suddenly another knock, this time more vigorous, more insistent, came upon the rough boards of the cabin door, which, finally, was answered by the girl herself. girl of the golden west saw that the girl was not alone as he had expected to find her. “i beg your pardon; i did not see anyone when i came in," he said in humble apology, his eyes the while upon wowkle who, having blown out the candle and removed the lantern from the table to the floor, was directing her footsteps towards the cupboard, into which she presently disappeared, closing the door behind her. “but seeing you stand- ing there," went on johnson in explanation, “and looking into your lovely eyes, well, the temptation to take you in my arms was so great that i, well, i took —” “you must be in the habit o' takin' things, mr. johnson," broke in the girl. “i seen you on the road to monterey, goin' an' comin', an' passed a few words with you; i seen you once since, but that don't give you no excuse to begin this sort o' game.” the girl's tone was one of reproach rather than of an- noyance, and for the moment the young man was left with a sense of having committed an indiscretion. silently, sheepishly, he moved away, while she quietly went over to the fire. “besides, you might have prospected a bit first anyway,” presently she went on, watching the tips of her slender white fingers held out transparent towards the fire. just at that moment a log dropped, turning up its € girl of the golden west glowing underside. wheeling round with a smile, johnson said: “i see how wrong i was." and then, seeing that the girl made no move in his direction, he asked, still smiling: “may i take off my coat?". the girl remained silent, which silence he in- terpreted as an assent, and went on to make himself at home. "thank you,” he said simply. “what a bully little place you have here! it's awfully snug!” he continued delightedly, as his eyes wandered about the room. “and to think that i've found you again when i - oh, the luck of it!". he went over to her and held out his hands, a broad, yet kindly smile lighting up his strong features, making him appear handsomer, even, than he really was, to the girl taking in the olive-coloured skin glowing with healthful pal- lor. “friends ?” he asked. nevertheless the girl did not give him her hand, but quickly drew it away; she answered his question with a question: “are you sorry?” “no, i'm not sorry." to this she made no reply but quietly, disappoint- edly returned to the fireplace, where she stood in girl of the golden west . contemplative silence, waiting for his next words. but he did not speak; he contented himself with gazing at the tender girlishness of her, the blue- black eyes, and flesh that was so bright and pure that he knew it to be soft and firm, making him yearn for her. involuntarily she turned towards him, and she saw that in his face which caused her eyes to drop and her breath to come more quickly. “ that damme style just catches a woman!” she ejaculated with a little tremour in her voice. then her mood underwent a sudden change in marked contrast to that of the moment before. “look here, mr. johnson," she said, “ down at the saloon to-night you said you always got what you wanted. o'course i've got to admire you for that. i reckon women always do admire men for gettin' what they want. but if huggin' me's included, jest count it out." for a breathing space there was a dead silence. “that was a lovely day, girl, on the road to monterey, wasn't it?” of a sudden johnson ob- served dreamily. the girl's eyes opened upon him wonderingly. “ was it?" “well, wasn't it?" the girl thought it was and she laughed. “say, take a chair and set down for a while, won't girl of the golden west you?" was her next remark, she herself taking a chair at the table. “thanks,” he said, coming slowly towards her while his eyes wandered about the room for a chair. “say, look 'ere!" she shot out, scrutinising him closely; “i ben thinkin' you didn't come to the saloon to see me to-night. what brought you ?" “ it was fate," he told her, leaning over the table and looking down upon her admiringly. she pondered his answer for a moment, then blurted out: “you're a bluff! it may have been fate, but i tho't you looked kind o' funny when rance asked you if you hadn't missed the trail an' wa’n’t on the road to see nina micheltoreña — she that lives in the greaser settlement an' has the name o' shelterin' thieves." at the mention of thieves, johnson paled fright- fully and the knife which he had been toying with dropped to the floor. “was it fate or the back trail?" again queried the girl. “it was fate," calmly reiterated the man, and looked her fairly in the eye. the cloud disappeared from the girl's face. “ serve the coffee, wowkle!" she called almost instantly. and then it was that she saw that no chair had been placed at the table for him. she sprang girl of the golden west little pinto an' i'm all over the country on 'im. finest little horse you ever saw! if i want to i can ride right down into the summer at the foothills with miles o' injun pinks jest a-laffin' an' tiger lilies as mad as blazes. there's a river there, too — the injuns call it a water-road — an' i can git on that an' drift an' drift an’smell the wild syringa on the banks. an if i git tired o' that i can turn my horse up-grade an' gallop right into the winter an' the lonely pines an' firs a-whisperin' an'a-sighin. lonely? moun- tains lonely, did you say? oh, my mountains, my beautiful peaks, my sierras! god's in the air here, sure! you can see him layin' peaceful hands on the mountain tops. he seems so near you want to let your soul go right on up." johnson was touched at the depth of meaning in her words; he nodded his head in appreciation. "i see, when you die you won't have far to go," he quietly observed. minutes passed before either spoke. then all at once the girl rose and took the chair facing his, the table between them as at first. “wowkle, serve the coffee!” again she called. immediately, wowkle emerged from the cup- board, took the coffee-pot from the fire and filled the cups that had been kept warm on the fireplace base, and after placing a cup beside each plate she squatted down before the fire in watchful silence. girl of the golden west ome “but when it's very cold up here, cold, and it snows ? ” queried johnson, his admiration for the plucky, quaint little figure before him growing by leaps and bounds. “oh, the boys come up an' digs me out o' my front door like — like —” she paused, her sunny laugh rippling out at the recollection of it all, and john- son noted the two delightful dimples in her rounded cheeks. indeed, she had never appeared prettier to him than when displaying her two rows of perfect, dazzling teeth, which was the case every time that she laughed. "— like a little rabbit, eh?” he supplemented, joining in the laugh. she nodded eagerly. “i get digged out near every day when the mine's shet down an’ academy opens," went on the girl in the same happy strain, her big blue eyes dancing with merriment. johnson looked at her wonderingly; he questioned. “ academy? here? why, who teaches in your academy?” “me — i'm her — i'm teacher,” she told him with not a little show of pride. with difficulty johnson suppressed a smile; never- theless he observed soberly: “oh, so you're the teacher ?”. “yep - i learn m'self an' the boys at the same girl of the golden west time," she hastened to explain, and dropped a heap- ing teaspoon of coarse brown sugar into his cup. “but o' course academy's suspended when ther's a blizzard on 'cause no girl could git down the moun- tain then." “is it so very severe here when there's a blizzard on?” johnson was saying, when there came to his ears a strange sound — the sound of the wind rising in the canyon below. the girl looked at him in blank astonishment - a look that might easily have been interpreted as saying, “where do you hail from?” she answered: "is it ...? oh, lordy, they come in a minute! all of a sudden you don't know where you are — it's awful!” “not many women " digressed the man, glancing apprehensively towards the door, but she cut him short swiftly with the ejaculation: “bosh !” and picking up a plate she raised it high in the air the better to show off its contents. “ charlotte rusks an' lemming turnover!” she an- nounced, searching his face for some sign of joy, her own face lighting up perceptibly. “well, this is a treat!” cried out johnson between sips of coffee. “have one?” “you bet!” he returned with unmistakable pleasure in his voice. girl of the golden west the girl served him with one of each, and when he thanked her she beamed with happiness. “let me send you some little souvenir of to-night" - he said, a little while later, his admiring eyes settled on her hair of burnished gold which glistened when the light fell upon it —“something that you'd just love to read in your course of teaching at the academy." he paused to search his mind for some- thing suitable to suggest to her; at length he ques- tioned: “now, what have you been reading lately?” the girl's face broke into smiles as she answered: “oh, it's an awful funny book about a kepple. he was a classic an' his name was dent." johnson knitted his brows and thought a moment. “he was a classic, you say, and his name was — oh, yes, i know — dante,” he declared, with diffi- culty controlling the laughter that well-nigh con- vulsed him. “and you found dante funny, did you ? " “funny? i roared!" acknowledged the girl with a frankness that was so genuine that johnson could not help but admire her all the more. “you see, he loved a lady —” resumed the girl, toying . idly with her spoon. "— beatrice," supplemented johnson, pronounc- ing the name with the italian accent which, by the way, was not lost on the girl. girl of the golden west "how?” she asked quickly, with eyes wide open. johnson ignored the question. anxious to hear her interpretation of the story, he requested her to continue. “he loved a lady -" began the girl, and broke off short. and going over to the book-shelf she took down a volume and began to finger the leaves absently. presently she came back, and fixing her eyes upon him, she went on: “it made me think of it, what you said down to the saloon to-night about livin' so you didn't care what come after. well, he made up his min', this dent — dantes — that one hour o' happiness with her was worth the whole da—” she checked the word on her tongue, and concluded: “outfit that come after. he was willin' to sell out his chances for sixty minutes with 'er. well, i jest put the book down an' hollered.” and once more she broke into a hearty laugh. “of course you did," agreed johnson, joining in the laugh. “all the same," he presently added, “ you knew he was right.” "i didn't!” she contradicted with spirit, and slowly went back to the book-shelf with the book. “you did.” “ didn't!" “ you did.” "didn't! didn't!" “i don't" girl of the golden west u mea son no “ you do, you do,” insisted the girl, plumping down into the chair which she had vacated at the table. “do you mean to say —” johnson got no further, for the girl, with a naïveté that made her positively bewitching to the man before her, went on as if there had been no interruption: “that a feller could so wind h’ms'lf up as to say, ' jest give me one hour o'your sassiety; time ain't nothin', nothin' ain't nothin' only to be a da—darn fool over you!' ain't it funny to feel like that?" and then, before johnson could frame an answer: “yet, i s'pose there are people that love into the grave an' into death an' after." the girl's voice lowered, stopped. then, looking straight ahead of her, her eyes glistening, she broke out with: “golly, it jest lifts you right up by your bootstraps to think of it, don't it?”. johnson was not smiling now, but sat gazing in- tently at her through half-veiled lids. “it does have that effect,” he answered, the wonder of it all creeping into his voice. “yet, p'r'aps he was ahead o' the game. p'r'aps —" she did not finish the sentence, but broke out with fresh enthusiasm: “oh, say, i jest love this conversation with you! i love to hear you talk! you give me idees ! ” johnson's heart was too full for utterance; he inswer girl of the golden west could only think of his own happiness. the next instant the girl called to wowkle to bring the candle, while she, still eager and animated, her eyes bright, her lips curving in a smile, took up a cigar and handed it to him, saying: “ one o' your real havanas!” “but i”– began johnson, protestingly. nevertheless the girl lit a match for him from the candle which wowkle held up to her, and, while the latter returned the candle to the mantel, johnson lighted his cigar from the burning match between her fingers. “oh, girl, how i'd love to know you!” he sud- denly cried with the fire of love in his eyes. “but you do know me," was her answer, as she watched the smoke from his cigar curl upwards to- ward the ceiling. “not well enough,” he sighed. for a brief second only she was silent. whether she read his thoughts it would be difficult to say; but there came a moment soon when she could not mistake them. “what's your drift, anyway?" she asked, look- ing him full in the face. “to know you as dante knew the lady —'one hour for me, one hour worth the world,'” he told her, all the while watching and loving her beauty. girl of the golden west at the thought she trembled a little, though she answered with characteristic bluntness: “he didn't git it, mr. johnson." “ all the same there are women we could die for," insisted johnson, dreamily. the girl was in the act of carrying her cup to her mouth 'but put it down on the table. leaning forward, she inquired somewhat sneeringly: “mr. johnson, how many times have you died?" johnson did not have to think twice before an- swering. with wide, truthful eyes he said: "that day on the road to monterey i said just that one woman for me. i wanted to kiss you then,” he added, taking her hand in his. and, strange to say, she was not angry, not unwilling, but sweetly tender and modest as she let it lay there. “but, mr. johnson, some men think so much o' kisses that they don't want a second kiss from the same girl," spoke up the girl after a moment's re- flection. “doesn't that depend on whether they love her or not? now all loves are not alike," reasoned the man in all truthfulness. “no, but they all have the same aim — to git 'er if they can," contended the girl, gently withdraw- ing her hand. silence filled the room. girl of the golden west he stretched out his arms as if to gather her in them. “look out, you'll muss my roses !" she cried, waving him back and dodging wowkle who, hav- ing cleared the table, was now making her last trip to the cupboard. “well, hadn't you better take them off then?” suggested johnson, still following her up. “give a man an inch an' he'll be at sank hosey before you know it!” she flung at him over her shoulder, and made straightway for the bureau. but although johnson desisted, he kept his eyes upon her as she took the roses from her hair, los- ing none of the picture that she made with the light beating and playing upon her glimmering eyes, her rosy cheeks and her parted lips. "is there — is there anyone else?” he inquired falteringly, half-fearful lest there was. “a man always says, 'who was the first one?' but the girl says, 'who'll be the next one?!" she returned, as she carefully laid the roses in her bureau drawer. “but the time comes when there never will be a next one." “no?" "no." “i'd hate to stake my pile on that," observed the girl, drily. she blew up each glove as it came off girl of the golden west next moment she went out, as did the red light in the girl's lantern hanging on a peg of the outer door. “oh, please, please," said the girl, half-pro- testingly, half-willingly. but the man was no longer to be denied; he kept on urging: “ one kiss, only one." here was an appeal which could no longer be resisted, and though half-frightened by the tone of his voice and the look in his eye, the girl let herself be taken into his arms as she murmured: “ 'tain't no use, i lay down my hands to you." and so it was that, unconscious of the great havoc that was being wrought by the storm, unconscious of the danger that momentarily threatened their lives, they remained locked in each other's arms. the girl made no attempt to silence him now or with- draw her hands from his. why should she? had he not come to cloudy mountain to woo her? was she not awaiting his coming ? to her it seemed but natural that the conventions should be as nothing in the face of love. his voice, low and musical, charged with passion, thrilled through her. “i love you,” said the man, with a note of possession that frightened her while it filled her with strange, sweet joy. for months she had dreamed of him and loved him; no wonder that she looked upon girl of the golden west him as her hero and yielded herself entirely to her fate. she lifted her eyes and he saw the love in them. she freed her hands from his grasp, and then gave them back to him in a little gesture of surrender. “yes, you're mine, an' i'm yours," she said with trembling lips. “i have lived but for this from the moment that i first saw you,” he told her, softly. “me, too — seein' that i've prayed for it day an' night,” she acknowledged, her eyes seeking his. “our destinies have brought us together; what- ever happens now i am content,” he said, pressing his lips once more to hers. a little while later he added: “my darkest hour will be lightened by the memory of you, to-night.” girl of the golden west sure o' anythin' only jest you,” she said coyly, bury- ing her face in his neck. “you may well be sure of me since i've loved —” johnson's sentence was cut short, a wave of remorse sweeping over him. “turn your head away, girl, and don't listen to me,” he went on, gently putting her away from him. “ i'm not worthy of you. don't listen but just say no, no, no, no." the girl, puzzled, was even more so when john- son began to pace the floor. “oh, i know — i ain't good enough for you!” she cried with a little tremour in her voice. “but i'll try hard, hard.. if you see anythin' better in me, why don't you bring it out, 'cause i've loved you ever since i saw you first, 'cause i knowed that you — that you were the right man.” “the right man,' repeated johnson, dismally, for his conscience was beginning to smite him hard. “don't laugh!” “ i'm not laughing," as indeed he was not. “o' course every girl kind o' looks ahead,” went on the girl in explanation. “yes, i suppose," he observed seriously. " an' figgers about bein' — well, oh, you know — about bein' settled. an' when the right man comes, why, she knows 'im, you bet! jest as we both knowed each other standin' on the road to girl of the golden west . and here their eyes came together and seemed un- able to part,- i love you as i never thought i could. ..." but at johnson's queer look she hastened to in- quire: “but it ain't for long you're goin'?" for long! then she had not understood that he meant to go for all time. how tell her the truth? while he pondered over the situation there came to him with great suddenness the thought that, perhaps, after all, life never intended that she should be given to him only to be taken away al- most as suddenly; and seized with a desire to hold on to her at any cost, he sprang forward as if to take her in his arms, but before he reached her, he stopped short. “such happiness is not for me," he muttered under his breath; and then aloud he added: “no, no, i've got to go now while i have the courage, i mean.” he broke off as suddenly as he had be- gun, and taking her face in his hands he kissed her good-bye. now, accustomed as was the girl to the strange comings and goings of the men at the camp, it did not occur to her to question him further when he told her that he should have been away before now. moreover, she trusted and loved him. and so it was without the slightest feeling of misgiving that girl of the golden west she watched her lover quickly take down his coat and hat from the peg on the wall and start for the door. on the other hand, it must have required not a little courage on the man's part to have torn himself away from this lovely, if unconventional, creature, just as he was beginning to love truly and appreciate her. but, then, johnson was a man of no mean determination! not daring to trust himself to words, johnson paused to look back over his shoulder at the girl before plunging forth into the night. but on open- ing the door all the multitudinous wild noises of the forests reached his ears: sounds of whispering and rocking storm-tossed pines, sounds of the wind mak- ing the rounds of the deep canyon below them, sounds that would have made the blood run cold of a man more daring, even, than himself. like one petrified he stood blinded, almost, by the great drifts of snow that were being driven into the room, while the cabin rocked and shook and the roof cracked and snapped, the lights flickered, smoked, or sent their tongues of fire upward towards the ceil- ing, the curtains swayed like pendants in the air, and while baskets, boxes, and other small furnish- ings of the cabin were blown in every direction. but it was the girl's quick presence of mind that saved them from being buried, literally, under the snow. in an instant she had rushed past him and girl of the golden west closed both the outer and inner doors of the cabin; then, going over to the window, she tried to look through the heavily frosted panes; but the falling of the sleet and snow, striking the window like fine shot, made it impossible for her to see more than a few inches away. “why, it's the first time i knew that it —” she cut her sentence short and ended with: “that's the way we git it up here! look! look!" whereupon, johnson went over to the window and put his face close to hers on the frosted panes; a great sea of white snow met his gaze! “this means —” he said, turning away from the window and meeting her glance —“ surely it doesn't mean that i can't leave cloudy to-night?" “it means you can't get off the mountain to- night,” calmly answered the girl. “good lord!” fell from the man's lips. “you can't leave this room to-night," went on the girl, decidedly. “why, you couldn't find your way three feet from this door — you a stranger ! you don't know the trail anyway unless you can see it." “but i can't stay here?” incredulously. “why not? why, that's all right! the boys'll come up an' dig us out to-morrow or day after. there's plenty o' wood an' you can have my bed.” and with no more ado than that, the girl girl of the golden west went over to the bed to remove the covers and make it ready for his occupancy. “i wouldn't think of taking that," protested the man, stoutly, while his face clouded over. the girl felt a thrill at the note of regard in his voice and hastened to explain: “i never use it cold nights; i always roll up in my rug in front of the fire." all of a sudden she broke out into a merry little laugh. “jest think of it stormin' all this time an' we didn't know it!”. but johnson was not in a laughing mood. in- deed, he looked very grave and serious when pres- ently he said: “but people coming up here and finding me might —” the girl looked up at him in blank amazement. “might what?” and then, while she waited for his answer, two shots in close succession rang out in the night with great distinctness. there was no mistaking the nearness of the sound. instantly scenting trouble and alert at the possibility of danger, johnson inquired: “what's that? what's that?". “wait! wait!" came back from the girl, un- consciously in the same tone, while she strained her ears for other sounds. she did not have long to wait, however, before other shots followed, the last girl of the golden west ones coming from further away, so it seemed, and at greater intervals. “they've got a road agent - it's the posse p'r'aps they've got ramerrez or one o' his band i" suddenly declared the girl, at the same time rushing over to the window for some verification of her words. but, as before, the wind was beating with great force against the frosted panes, and only a vast stretch of snow met her gaze. turning away from the window she now came towards him with: “you see, whoever it is, they're snowed in — they can't get away." johnson knitted his brows and muttered some- thing under his breath which the girl did not catch. again a shot was fired. “another thief crep' into camp," coldly observed the girl almost simultaneously with the report. johnson winced. “poor devil!” he muttered. “but of course, as you say, he's only a thief." in reply to which the girl uttered words to the effect that she was glad he had been caught. “well, you're right,” said johnson, thoughtfully, after a short silence; then determinedly and in short jerky sentences, he went on: “i've been thinking that i must go — tear myself away. i have very important business at dawn — imperative business . , ." girl of the golden west the girl, who now stood by the table folding up the white cloth cover, watched him out of the corner of her eye, take down his coat from the peg on the wall. “ever sample one o' our mountain blizzards ? " she asked as he slipped on his coat. “in five min- utes you wouldn't know where you was. your im- portant business would land you at the bottom of a canyon 'bout twenty feet from here." johnson cleared his throat as if to speak but said nothing; whereupon the girl continued: “you say you believe in fate. well, fate has caught up with you — you got to stay here." johnson was strangely silent. he was wonder- ing how his coming there to-night had really come about. but he could find no solution to the prob- lem unless it was in response to that perverse instinct which prompts us all at times to do the very thing which in our hearts we know to be wrong. the girl, meanwhile, after a final creasing of the neatly- folded cover, started for the cupboard, stopping on the way to pick up various articles which the wind had strewn about the room. flinging them quickly into the cupboard she now went over to the window and once more attempted to peer out into the night. but as before, it was of no avail. with a shrug she straightened the curtains at the windows and started for the door. her action seemed to quicken his de- girl of the golden west cision, for, presently, with a gesture of resignation, he threw down his hat and coat on the table and said as if speaking to himself: “well, it is fate — my fate that has always made the thing i shouldn't do so easy.” and then, turning to the girl, he added: “ come, girl, as you say, if i can't go, i can't. but i know as i stand here that i'll never give you up." the girl looked puzzled. “why, what do you mean?” “i mean," began johnson, pacing the floor slowly. now he stopped by a chair and pointed as though to the falling snow. “ suppose we say that's an omen — that the old trail is blotted out and there is a fresh road. would you take it with me a stran- ger, who says: from this day i mean to be all you'd have me. would you take it with me far away from here and forever?” it did not take the girl long to frame an answer. taking johnson's hand she said with great feeling: “well, show me the girl that would want to go to heaven alone! i'll sell out the saloon — i'll go anywhere with you, you bet!”. johnson bent low over her hand and kissed it. the girl's straightforward answer had filled his heart to overflowing with joy. “you know what that means, don't you?” a mo- ment later he asked. girl of the golden west sudden joy leapt to her blue eyes. “oh, yes,” she told him with a world of under- standing in her voice. there was a silence; then she went on reminiscently: “ there's a little span- ish mission church — i pass it 'most every day. i can look in an' see the light burnin' before the virgin an' see the saints standin' round with glassy eyes an' faded satin slippers. an' i often tho't what they'd think if i was to walk right in to be made — well, some man's wife. it makes your blood like pin- points thinkin' about it. there's somethin' kind o holy about love, ain't they?" johnson nodded. he had never regarded love in that light before, much less known it. for many moments he stood motionless, a new problem of right and wrong throbbing in his bosom. at last, it being settled that johnson was to pass the night in the girl's cabin, she went over to the bed and, once more, began to make it ready for his occu- pancy. meanwhile, johnson, seated in the barrel rocker before the fire, watched her with a new inter- est. the girl had not gone very far with her duties, however, when she suddenly came over to him, plumping herself down on the floor at his feet. “say, did you ever ask any other woman to marry you ? " she asked as she leaned far back in his arms. "no," was the man's truthful answer. “oh, how glad i am! take me — ah, take me girl of the golden west i don't care where as long as it is with you!” cried the girl in an ecstasy of delight. “so help me, god, i'm going to . . !" promised johnson, his voice strained, tense. "you're worth something better than me, girl,” he added, a moment later, “but they say love works miracles every hour, that it weakens the strong and strengthens the weak. with all my soul i love you, with all my soul i-" the man let his voice die out, leaving his sentence unfinished. suddenly he called: “why, min-minnie!” “i wasn't really asleep," spoke up the girl, blink- ing sleepily. “ i'm jest so happy an' let down, that's all.” the next moment, however, she was forced to acknowledge that she was awfully sleepy and would have to say good-night. “ all right,” said johnson, rising, and kissed her good-night. “that's your bed over there," she told him, point- ing in the direction of the curtains. “but hadn't you better take the bed and let me sleep over here?" “not much!" " you're sure you would be more comfortable by the fire — sure, now?" “yes, you bet!" and so it was that johnson decided to pass the night in the girl's canopied bed while she herself, girl of the golden west. rolled up in a blanket rug before the fire, slept on the floor. “this beats a bed any time,” remarked the girl, spreading out the rug smoothly; and then, reaching up for the old patchwork, silk quilt that hung from the loft, she added: “there's one thing — you don't have to make it up in the mornin'.” “you're splendid, girl!” laughed johnson. presently, he saw her quietly closet herself in the cupboard, only to emerge a few minutes later dressed for the night. over her white cambric gown with its coarse lace trimming showing at the throat, she wore a red woollen blanket robe held in at the waist by a heavy, twisted, red cord which, to the man who got a glimpse of her as she crossed the room, made her prettier, even, than she had seemed at any time yet. quietly, now, the girl began to put her house in order. all the lights, save the quaintly-shaded lamp that was suspended over the table, were extinguished; that one, after many unsuccessful attempts, was turned down so as to give the right minimum of light which would not interfere with her lover's sleep. then she went over to the door to make sure that it was bolted. outside the wind howled and shrieked and moaned; but inside the cabin it had never seemed more cosey and secure and peaceful to her. “now you can talk to me from your bunk an' girl of the golden west , i'll talk to you from mine,” she said in a sleepy, lazy voice. except for a prodigious yawn which came from the girl there was an ominous quiet hanging over the place that chilled the man. sudden sounds startled him, and he found it impossible to make any prog- ress with his preparations for the night. he was about to make some remark, however, when to his well-attuned ears there came the sound of approach- ing footsteps. in an instant he was standing in the parting made by the curtains, his face eager, ani- mated, tense. “what's that?” he whispered. “that's snow slidin',” the girl informed him without the slightest trace of anxiety in her voice. “god bless you, girl," he murmured, and re- treated back of the curtains. it was only an instant before he was back again with: “why, there is something out there — sounded like people calling," he again whispered. “that's only the wind," she said, adding as she drew her robe tightly about her: “gettin' cold, ain't it?" but, notwithstanding her assurances, johnson did not feel secure, and it was with many misgivings that he now directed his footsteps towards the bed behind the curtains. “ good-night!” he said uneasily. assuranc xiii there was no mistaking then — no need to con- trast her feeling of anxiety of a few moments ago lest some other woman had preceded her in his af- fections, with her indifference on former occasions when her admirers had proved faithless, to make the girl realise that she was experiencing love and was dominated by a passion for this man. so that, with no reason whatever in her mind to question the sincerity of johnson's love for her, it would seem as if nothing were wanting to make the girl perfectly, happy; that there could be no room in her heart for any feeling other than elation. and yet, curiously enough, the girl could not doze off to sleep. some mysterious force — a vague foreboding of something about to happen — im- pelled her to open her eyes again and again. it was an odd and wholly new sensation, this con- juring up of distressing spectres, for no girl was given less to that sort of thing; all the same, it was with difficulty that she checked an impulse to cry out to her lover — whom she believed to be asleep — and make him dissipate, by renewed assurances, the mysterious barrier which she felt was hemming her in. as for johnson, the moment that his head had touched the pillows, he fell to thinking of the awk- on- girl of the golden west ward situation in which he was placed, the many complications in which his heart had involved him and, finally, he found himself wondering whether the woman whom he loved so dearly was also lying sleepless in her rug on the floor. and so it was not surprising that he should spring up the moment that he heard cries from outside. “who's that knockin', i wonder ? " although her voice showed no signs of distress or annoyance, the question coming from her in a calm tone, the girl was upon her feet almost be- fore she knew it. in a trice she removed all evi- dences that she had been lying upon the floor, fling- ing the pillows and silk coverlet to the wardrobe top. in that same moment johnson was standing in the parting of the curtains, his hand raised warn- ingly. in another moment he was over to the door where, after taking his pistols from his overcoat pockets, he stood in a cool, determined attitude, fin- gering his weapons. “but some one's ben callin',” the girl was saying, at the very moment when above the loud roaring of the wind another knock was heard on the cabin door. “who can it be?" she asked as if to herself, and calmly went over to the table, where she took up the candle and lit it. springing to her side, johnson whispered tensely: girl of the golden west "don't answer — you can't let anyone in — they wouldn't understand.” the girl eyed him quizzically. “understand what?” and before he had time to explain, much less to check her, she was standing at the window, candle in hand, peering out into the night. “why, it's the posse !" she cried, wheeling round suddenly. “how did they ever risk it in this storm ? " at these words a crushed expression appeared on johnson's countenance; an uncanny sense of insecurity seized him. once more the loud, insistent pound- ing was repeated, and as before, the outlaw, his hands on his guns, commanded her not to answer. “but what on earth do the boys want? " inquired the girl, seemingly oblivious to what he was saying. indeed, so much so that as the voice of nick rose high above the other sounds of the night, calling, “min-minnie-girl, let us in!” she hurriedly brushed past him and yelled through the door: “what do you want?”. again johnson's hand went up imperatively. “don't let him come in!” he whispered. but even then she heard not his warning, but si- lently, tremulously listened to sonora, who shouted through the door: "say, girl, you all right?” and not until her answering voice had called back girl of the golden west the table and warmed his hands over the lighted can- dle there. meanwhile, sonora, his nose, as well as his hands which with difficulty he removed from his heavy fur mittens, showing red and swollen from the effects of the biting cold, had gone over to the fire, where he ejaculated: “ouf, i'm cold! glad you're safe, girl! " “yes, girl, the polka's had a narrow squeak,” observed nick, stamping his feet which, as well as his legs, were wrapped with pieces of blankets for added warmth. unconsciously, at his words, the girl's eyes trav- elled to the bed; then, drawing her robe snugly about her, and seating herself, she asked with suppressed excitement : “why, nick, what's the matter? what's —". rance took it upon himself to do the answering. sauntering over to the girl, he drawled out: " it takes you a long time to get up, seems to me. you haven't so much on, either," he went on, pierc- ing her with his eyes. smilingly and not in the least disconcerted by the sheriff's remark, the girl picked up a rug from the floor and wound it about her knees. “well? ” she interrogated. “well, we was sure that you was in trouble," put in sonora. “my breath jest stopped.”. “me? me in trouble, sonora ? " a little laugh girl of the golden west that was half-gay, half-derisive, accompanied her words. “see here, that man ramerrez —” followed up rance with a grim look. "— feller you was dancin' with," interposed so- nora, but checked himself instantly lest he wound the girl's feelings. whereupon, rance, with no such compunctions, became the spokesman, a grimace of pleasure spread- ing over his countenance as he thought of the un- pleasant surprise he was about to impart. stretching out his stiffened fingers over the blaze, he said in his most brutal tones: “your polkying friend is none other than ra- merrez." the girl's eyes opened wide, but they did not look at the sheriff. they looked straight before her. "i warned you, girl," spoke up ashby, “ that you should bank with us oftener.” the girl gave no sign of having heard him. her slender figure seemed to have shrunken perceptibly as she stared stupidly, uncomprehendingly, into space. “we say that johnson was —” repeated rance, impatiently. "— what?" fell from the girl's lips, her face pale and set. “are you deaf?" demanded rance; and then, emphasising every word, he rasped out: “the fel- girl of the golden west rance, triumphantly. “but the last seen of john- son," he went on with a hasty movement towards the girl and eyeing her critically, “ he was heading this way. you seen anything of him?" the girl struggled hard to appear composed. "heading this way?" she inquired, reddening. “so nick said,” declared sonora, looking towards that individual for proof of his words. but nick had caught the girl's lightning glance imposing silence upon him; in some embarrassment he stammered out: “that is, he was — sid said he saw 'im take the trail, too.” “ but the trail ends here," pointed out rance, at the same time looking hard at the girl. and if she hasn't seen him, where was he going?”. at this juncture nick espied a cigar butt on the floor; unseen by the others, he hurriedly picked it up and threw it in the fire. “one o' our dollar havanas! good lord, he's here!” he muttered to himself. “rance is right. where was he goin'?” was the question with which he was confronted by sonora when about to return to the others. “well, i tho't i seen him," evaded nick with considerable uneasiness. “i couldn't swear to it. you see it was dark, an'— moses but the sidney duck's a liar!" girl of the golden west at length, ashby decided that the man had in all probability been showed under, ending confidently with: “something scared him off and he lit out without his horse.” which remark brought temporary re- lief to the girl, for nick, watching her, saw the col- our return to her face. unconsciously, during this discussion, the girl had risen to her feet, but only to fall back in her chair again almost as suddenly, a sign of nervousness which did not escape the sharp eye of the sheriff. “how do you know the man's a road agent?” 'a shade almost of contempt was in the girl's ques- tion. sonora breathed on his badly nipped fingers be- fore answering: "well, two greasers jest now were pretty positive before they quit.” instantly the girl's head went up in the air. “greasers !” she ejaculated scornfully, while her eyes unfalteringly met rance's steady gaze. “but the woman knew him," was the sheriff's vin- dictive thrust. the girl started; her face went white. “the woman — the woman d'you say?" “why, yes, it was a woman that first told them that ramerrez was in the camp to rob the polka,” sonora informed her, though his tone showed plainly girl of the golden west his surprise at being compelled to repeat a thing which, he wrongly believed, she already knew. “we saw her at the palmetto," leered rance. “and we missed the reward,” frowned ashby; at which rance quickly turned upon the speaker with: “but ramerrez is trapped.” there was a moment's startled pause in which the girl struggled with her passions; at last, she ven- tured: “who's this woman?”. the sheriff laughed discordantly. “why, the woman of the back trail,” he sneered. “nina micheltoreña! then she does know 'im - it's true — it goes through me!” unwittingly burst from the girl's lips. the sheriff, evidently, found the situation amus- ing, for he laughed outright. “he's the sort of a man who polkas with you first and then cuts your throat," was his next stab. the girl turned upon him with eyes flashing and retorted: “well, it's my throat, ain't it?” “well i'll be! ” the sheriff's sentence was left unfinished, for nick, quickly pulling him to one side, whispered: “say, rance, the girl's cut up because she vouched for 'im. don't rub it in." notwithstanding, rance, to the girl's query of girl of the golden west “how did this nina micheltoreña know it? ” took a keen delight in telling her: “she's his girl.” “his girl?” repeated the girl, mechanically. “yes. she gave us his picture,” went on rance; and taking the photograph out of his pocket, he added maliciously, “ with love written on the back of it." a glance at the photograph, which she fairly snatched out of his hands, convinced the girl of the truthfulness of his assertion. with a movement of pain she threw it upon the floor, crying out bitterly: “nina micheltoreña! nina micheltoreña!" turning to ashby with an abrupt change of manner she said contritely: “ i'm sorry, mr. ashby, i vouched for 'im." the wells fargo agent softened at the note in the girl's voice; he was about to utter some comfort- ing words to her when suddenly she spoke again. “i s'pose they had one o' them little lovers' quar- rels an' that made 'er tell you, eh?” she laughed a forced little laugh, though her heart was beating strangely as she kept on: “he's the kind o' man who sort o' polkas with every girl he meets.” and at this she began to laugh almost hysterically. rance, who resented her apologising to anyone but himself, stood scowling at her. girl of the golden west good-night, nick!” the girl closed the door upon them. the last that she heard from them was the muffled ejaculation: “oh, lordy, we'll never git down to cloudy to- night!” now the girl slid the bolts and stood with her back against the door as if to take extra precautions to bar out any intrusion, and with eyes that blazed she yelled out: “come out o' that, now! step out there, mr. johnson!” slowly the road agent parted the curtains and came forward in an attitude of dejection. “you came here to rob me," at once began the girl, but her anger made it impossible for her to continue. “i didn't,” denied the road agent, quietly, his countenance reflecting how deeply hurt he was by her words. “ you lie!” insisted the girl, beside herself with rage. “i don't —” “ you do!” “i admit that every circumstance points to —". “stop! don't you give me any more o' that webster unabridged. you git to cases. if you didn't come here to steal you came to the polka to rob it, didn't you?” girl of the golden west ar johnson, his eyes lowered, was forced to admit that such were his intentions, adding swiftly: "but when i knew about you —” he broke off and took a step towards her. “wait! wait! wait where you are! don't you take a step further or i'll — " she made a significant gesture towards her bosom, and then, laughing harshly, went on denouncingly: “a road agent! a road agent! well, ain't it my luck! wouldn't anybody know to look at me that a gentle- man wouldn't fall my way! a road agent! a road agent!” and again she laughed bitterly be- fore going on: “but now you can git — git, you thief, you imposer on a decent woman! i ought to have tol' 'em all, but i wa’n't goin' to be the joke o' the world with you behind the curtains an' me eatin' charlotte rusks an'lemming turnovers an a-polkyin' with a road agent! but now you can git — git, do you hear me?" johnson heard her to the end with bowed head; and so scathing had been her denunciations of his actions that the fact that pride alone kept her from breaking down completely escaped his notice. with his eyes still downcast he said in painful fragments : “one word only — only a word and i'm not going to say anything in defence of myself. for it's all true — everything is true except that i would · have stolen from you. i am called ramerrez; i overs girl of the golden west have robbed; i am a road agent — an outlaw by profession. yes, i'm all that — and my father was that before me. i was brought up, educated, thrived on thieves' money, i suppose, but until six months ago when my father died, i did not know it. i lived much in monterey — i lived there as a gentleman. when we met that day i wasn't the thing i am to-day. i only learned the truth when my father died and left me with a rancho and a band of thieves — nothing else — nothing for us all, and i — but what's the good of going into it — the circumstances. you wouldn't understand if i did. i was my father's son; i have no excuse; i guess, perhaps, it was in me — in the blood. any- how, i took to the road, and i didn't mind it much after the first time. but i drew the line at killing — i wouldn't have that. that's the man that i am, the blackguard that i am. but —" here he raised his eyes and said with a voice that was charged with feeling —“ i swear to you that from the moment i kissed you to-night i meant to change, i meant to —" “the devil you did!” broke from the girl's lips, but with a sound that was not unlike a sob. “i did, believe me, i did," insisted the man. “i meant to go straight and take you with me — but only honestly — when i could honestly. i meant to work for you. why, every word you said to me girl of the golden west on. to-night about being a thief cut into me like a knife. over and over again i have said to myself, she must never know. and now — well, it's all over — i have finished.” “an' that's all?” questioned the girl with averted face. “no — yes — what's the use . .?" the girl's anger blazed forth again. “but there's jest one thing you've overlooked ex- plainin', mr. johnson. it shows exactly what you are. it wasn't so much your bein' a road agent i got against you. it's this: " and here she stamped her foot excitedly. “you kissed me — you got my first kiss.” johnson hung his head. “ you said,” kept on the girl, hotly, “you'd ben thinkin' o' me ever since you saw me at monterey, an' all the time you walked straight off an' ben kissin' that other woman.” she shrugged her shoul- der and laughed grimly. “you've got a girl," she continued, growing more and more indignant. “it's that i've got against you. it's my first kiss i've got against you. it's that nina micheltoreña that i can't forgive. so now you can git — git! " and with these words she unbolted the door and con- cluded tensely: "if they kill you i don't care. do you hear, i don't care. . . , . girl of the golden west sorely-wounded man, dragged him into the cabin and placed him in a chair. quick as lightning she was back at the door bolting it. with his eyes johnson followed her action. “don't lock that door — i'm going out again — out there. don't bar that door," he commanded feebly, struggling to his feet and attempting to walk towards it; but he lurched forward and would have fallen to the floor had she not caught him. vainly he strove to break away from her, all the time cry- ing out: “don't you see, don't you see, girl — open the door.” and then again with almost a sob: “do you think me a man to hide behind a woman?" he would have collapsed except for the strong arms that held him. “i love you an' i'm goin' to save you,” the girl murmured while struggling with him. “you asked me to go away with you; i will when you git out o' this. if you can't save your own soul —”. she stopped and quickly went over to the mantel where she took down a bottle of whisky and a glass; but in the act of pouring out a drink for him there came a loud rap on the window, and quickly looking round she saw rance's piercing eyes peering into the room. for an instant she paled, but then there flashed through her mind the comforting thought that the sheriff could not possibly see johnson from his position. so, after giving the latter his drink, she save girl of the golden west. and bolted the door. “do you think i'd want to shield a man who tried to rob me?" she asked, fac- ing him. ignoring the question, rance removed the glove of his weaponless hand and strode to the curtains that enclosed the girl's bed and parted them. when he turned back he was met by a scornful look and the words: “so, you doubt me, do you? well, go on — search the place. but this ends your acquaintance with the polka. don't you ever speak to me again. we're through." suddenly there came a smothered groan from the man in the loft; rance wheeled round quickly and brought up his gun, demanding: “what's that? what's that? ” leaning against the bureau the girl laughed out- right and declared that the sheriff was becoming as nervous as an old woman. her ridicule was not without its effect, and, presently, rance uncocked his gun and replaced it in its holster. advancing now to the table where the girl was standing, he took off his cap and shook it before laying it down; then, pointing to the door, his eyes never leaving the girl's face, he went on accusingly: “i saw someone standing out there against the snow. i fired. i could have sworn it was a man.” the girl winced. but as she stood watching: nev girl of the golden west him calmly remove his coat and shake it with the air of one determined to make himself at home, she cried out tauntingly: “why do you stop? why don't you go on — finish your search — only don't ever speak to me again.” at that, rance became conciliatory. “say, min, i don't want to quarrel with you." turning her back on him the girl moved over to the bureau where she snapped out over her shoulder: “go on with your search, then p'r’aps you'll leave a lady to herself to go to bed.” the sheriff followed her up with the declaration: “i'm plumb crazy about you, min." the girl shrugged her shoulder. “i could have sworn i saw — — oh, you know it's just you for me — just you, and curse the man you like better. i-i— even yet i can't get over the queer look in your face when i told you who that man really was.” he stopped and flung his over- coat down on the floor, and fixing her with a look he demanded: “you don't love him, do you ? " again the girl sent over her shoulder a forced little laugh. “who - me?" the sheriff's face brightened. taking a few steps nearer to her, he hazarded: girl of the golden west “say, girl, was your answer final to-night about marrying me?” without turning round the girl answered coyly: “i might think it over, jack." instantly the man's passion was aroused. he strode over to her, put his arms around her and kissed her forcibly. "i love you, i love you, minnie!” he cried passionately. in the struggle that followed, the girl's eyes fell on the bottle on the mantel. with a cry she seized it and raised it threateningly over her head. an- other second, however, she sank down upon a chair and began to sob, her face buried in her hands. rance regarded her coldly; at last he gave vent to a mirthless laugh, the nasty laugh of a man whose vanity is hurt. “so, it's as bad as that,” he sneered. “i didn't quite realise it. i'm much obliged to you. good- night.” he snatched up his coat, hesitated, then repeated a little less angrily than before: “good- night!” but the girl, with her face still hidden, made no answer. for a moment he watched the crouching form, the quivering shoulders, then asked, with sudden and unwonted gentleness: “can't you say good-night to me, girl! " slowly the girl rose to her feet and faced him, girl of the golden west aversion and pity struggling for mastery. then, as she noted the spot where he was now standing, his great height bringing him so near to the low boards of the loft where her lover was lying that it seemed as though he must hear the wounded man's breath- ing, all other feelings were swept away by over- whelming fear. with the one thought that she must get rid of him, — do anything, say anything, but get rid of him quickly, she forced herself forward, with extended hand, and said in a voice that held out new promise: “good-night, jack rance, – good-night!”. rance seized the hand with an almost fierce glad- ness in both his own, his keen glance hungrily striv- ing to read her face. then, suddenly, he released her, drawing back his hand with a quick sharpness. “why, look at my hand! there's blood on it!” he said. and even as he spoke, under the yellow flare of the lamp, the girl saw a second drop of blood fall at her feet. like a flash, the terrible significance of it came upon her. only by self-violence could she . keep her glance from rising, tell-tale, to the boards above. “oh, i'm so sorry," she heard herself saying con- tritely, all the time desperately groping to invent a reason; at length, she added futilely: “i must have scratched you." girl of the golden west v rain rance looked puzzled, staring at the spatter of red as though hypnotised. “no, there's no scratch there,” he contended, wiping off the blood with his handkerchief. “oh, yes, there is,” insisted the girl tremulously; " that is, there will be in the mornin'. you'll see in the mornin' that there'll be —” she stopped and stared in frozen terror at the sinister face of the sheriff, who was coolly watching his handkerchief turn from white to red under the slow rain of blood from the loft above. “oho!” he emitted sardonically, stepping back and pointing his gun towards the loft. “so, he's up there!” the girl's fingers clutched his arm, dragging des- perately. “no, he isn't, jack — no, he isn't!" she iterated in blind, mechanical denial. with an abrupt movement, rance flung her violently from him, made a grab at the suspended ladder and lowered it into position; then, deaf to the girl's pleadings, harshly ordered johnson to come down, meanwhile covering the source of the blood- drops with his gun. “oh, wait, wait a minute!” begged the girl helplessly. what would happen if he couldn't obey the summons? he had spent himself in his climb to safety. perhaps he was unconscious, slowly bleed- "mr. johnson, come down” girl of the golden west zen a ing to death! but even as she tortured herself with fears, the boards above creaked as though a heavy body was dragging itself slowly across them. john- son was evidently doing his best to reach the top of the ladder; but he did not move quickly enough to suit the sheriff. “come down, or i'll —" “oh, just a minute, jack, just a minute!” broke in the girl frantically. “don't shoot ! — don't you see he's tryin' to — ?" “come down here, mr. johnson!” reiterated the sheriff, with a face inhuman as a fiend. the girl clenched her hands, heedless of the nails cutting into her palms: “won't you wait a mo- ment, — please, wait, jack!”. “wait? what for?” the sheriff flung at her brutally, his finger twitching on the trigger. the girl's lips parted to answer, then closed again dumbly,— for it was then that she saw the boots, then the legs of the road agent slide uncertainly through the open trap, fumble clumsily for the rungs of the ladder, then slip and stumble as the weight of the following body came upon them while the weak fingers strained desperately for a hold. the whole heart and soul and mind of the girl seemed to be reaching out impotently to give her lover strength, to hurry him down fast enough to forestall a shot from the sheriff. it seemed hours until the road agent i girl of the golden west reached the bottom of the ladder, then lurched with unseeing eyes to a chair and, finally, fell forward limply, with his arms and head resting on the table. still dumb with dread, the girl watched rance slowly circle round the wounded man; it was not until the sheriff returned his pistol to its holster that she breathed freely again. “so, you dropped into the polka to-night to play a little game of poker? funny how things change about in an hour or two!” rance chuckled mirth- lessly; it seemed to suit his sardonic humour to taunt his helpless rival. “you think you can play poker, — that's your conviction, is it? well, you can play freeze-out as to your chances, mr. johnson of sacra- mento. come, speak up,- it's shooting or the tree, which shall it be?" goaded beyond endurance by rance's taunting of the unconscious man, the girl, fumbling in her bosom for her pistol, turned upon him in a sudden, cold fury: “you better stop that laughin', jack rance, or i'll send you to finish it in some place where things ain't so funny.” something in the girl's altered tone so struck the sheriff that he obeyed her. he said nothing, but on his lips were the words, “by heaven, the girl means it!" and his eyes showed a smouldering ad- miration. girl of the golden west “he doesn't hear you,- he's out of it. but me - me— i hear you — i ain't out of it," the girl went on in compelling tones. “you're a gambler; he was, too; well, so am i.” she crossed deliberately to the bureau, and laid her pistol away in the drawer, rance meanwhile eyeing her with puzzled interest. returning, she went on, incisively as a whip lash: “i live on chance money, drink money, card money, saloon money. we're gamblers,— we're all gam- blers!” she paused, an odd expression coming over her face,- an expression that baffled rance's power to read. presently she resumed: “now, you asked me to-night if my answer was final, — well, here's your chance. i'll play you the game,- straight poker. it's two out o' three for me. hatin' the sight o' you, it's the nearest chance you'll ever get for me." “do you mean —” began rance, his hands rest- ing on the table, his hawk-like glance burning into her very thoughts. “yes, with a wife in noo orleans all right," she interrupted him feverishly. “if you're lucky, — you'll git 'im an' me. but if you lose,— this man settin' between us is mine — mine to do with as i please, an' you shut up an' lose like a gentle- man." “ you must be crazy about him!” the words seemed wrung from the sheriff against his will. girl of the golden west nea dit " "that's my business !" came like a knife-cut from the girl. “do you know you're talkin' to the sheriff?" “i'm talkin' to jack rance, the gambler," she amended evenly. “you're right,— and he's just fool enough to take you up," returned rance with sudden decision. he looked around him for a chair; there was one • near the table, and the girl handed it to him. with one hand he swung it into place before the table, while with the other he jerked off the table-cover, and flung it across the room. johnson neither moved nor groaned, as the edge slid from beneath his nerveless arms. “you and the cyards have got into my blood. i'll take you up,” he said, seating himself. “your word,” demanded the girl, leaning over the table, but still standing. "i can lose like a gentleman," returned rance curtly; then, with a swift seizure of her hand, he continued tensely, in tones that made the girl shrink and whiten, “ i'm hungry for you, min, and if i win, i'll take it out on you as long as i have breath." a moment later, the girl had freed her hand from his clasp, and was saying evenly, “fix the lamp.” and while the sheriff was adjusting the wick that had begun to flare up smokily, she swiftly left the girl of the golden west room, saying casually over her shoulder that she was going to fetch something from the closet. “what you goin' to get?" he called after her suspiciously. the girl made no reply. rance made no movement to follow her, but instead drew a pack of cards from his pocket and began to shuffle them with practiced carelessness. but when a minute had passed and the girl had not returned, he called once more, with growing impatience, to know what was keeping her. "i'm jest gettin' the cards an' kind o steadyin' my nerves," she answered somewhat queerly through the doorway. the next moment she had returned, quickly closing the closet door behind her, blew out her candle, and laying a pack of cards upon the table, said significantly: “we'll use a fresh deck. there's a good deal depends on this, jack.” she seated herself opposite the sheriff and so close to the unconscious form of the man she loved that from time to time her left arm brushed his shoulder. rance, without protest other than a shrug, took up his own deck of cards, wrapped them in a hand- kerchief, and stowed them away in his pocket. it was the girl who spoke first: “ are you ready?” “ready? yes. i'm ready. cut for deal.” with unfaltering fingers, the girl cut. of the girl of the golden west man beside her, dead or dying, she must not, dared not think. for the moment she had become one incarnate purpose: to win, to win at any cost,— noth- ing else mattered. rance won the deal; and taking up the pack he asked, as he shuffled: “a case of show-down?" “show-down." “ cut!” once more peremptorily from rance; and then, when she had cut, one question more: “ best two out of three?" “best two out of three.” swift, staccato sen- tences, like the rapid crossing of swords, the first preliminary interchange of strokes before the true duel begins. rance dealt the cards. before either looked at them, he glanced across at the girl and asked scorn- fully, perhaps enviously: “what do you see in him ? " “what do you see in me?" she flashed back in- stantly, as she picked up her cards; and then: “what have you got?” “king high,” declared the gambler. “king high here," echoed the girl. “ jack next," and he showed his hand. “queen next," and the girl showed hers. “you've got it," conceded the gambler, easily. girl of the golden west then, in another tone, " but you're making a mis- take -" “if i am, it's my mistake! cut!” rance cut the cards. the girl dealt them steadily. then, “what have you got?” she asked. “one pair,- aces. what have you?" “nothing," throwing her cards upon the table. with just a flicker of a smile, the sheriff once more gathered up the pack, saying smoothly: “even now, we're even." “it's the next hand that tells, jack, ain't it?” " yes." “ it's the next hand that tells me, i'm awfully sorry," the words seemed to come awkwardly; her glance was troubled, almost contrite," at any rate, i want to say jest now that no matter how it comes out —” “ cut!" interjected rance mechanically. " that i'll always think of you the best i can," completed the girl with much feeling. “an' i want you to do the same for me." silently, inscrutably, the gambler dealt the ten cards, one by one. but as the girl started to draw hers toward her, his long, thin fingers reached across once more and closed not ungently upon hand and cards. > girl of the golden west. “the last hand, girl!” he reminded her. “ and i've a feeling that i win, that in one minute i'll hold you in my arms." and still covering her fingers with his own, he stole a glance at his cards. “i win,” he announced, briefly, his eyes alone be- traying the inward fever. he dropped the cards be- fore her on the table. “three kings, and the last hand!” suddenly, as though some inward cord had snapped under the strain, the girl collapsed. limply she slid downward in her chair, one groping hand stray- ing aimlessly to her forehead, then dropping of its own weight. “quick, jack,— i'm ill, — git me somethin'!” the voice trailed off to nothingness as the drooping eyelids closed. in real consternation, the sheriff sprang to his feet. in one sweeping glance his alert eye caught the whisky bottle upon the mantel. “all right, girl, i'll fix you in no time,” he said cheeringly over his shoulder. but where the deuce did she keep her tumblers ? the next minute he was groping for them in the dark of the adjoining closet and softly curs- ing himself for his own slowness. instantaneously, the girl came to life. the un- turned cards upon the table vanished with one light- ning movement; the girl's hand disappeared beneath her skirts, raised for the moment knee-high; then the same, swift reverse motion, and the cards were girl of the golden west course, but being strong of arm, as well as stout of heart, she at last accomplished it. now she cut away his shirt in order to find the wound, which proved to be in his breast. quickly then she felt with her fingers in an endeavour to find the ball, but in this she was unsuccessful. so after a moment's deliberation she made up her mind that the wound was a flesh one and that the ball was any- where but in the man's body — a diagnosis that was largely due to the cheerful optimism of her nature and which, fortunately, proved to be true. presently she went to a corner of the room and soon returned with a basin of water and some hastily torn bandages. for a good fifteen minutes after that she washed the gash and, finally, bandaged it as well as she knew how. and now, having done all that her knowledge or instinct prompted, she drew up a chair and prepared to pass the rest of the night in watching by his side. for an hour or so he slept the sleep of unconscious- ness. in the room not a sound could be heard, but outside the storm still roared and raged. it was any- thing but an easy or cheerful situation: here she was alone with a wounded, if not dying, man; and she well knew that, unless there came an abatement in the fury of the storm, it might be days before any- one could climb the mountain. true, the indians were not far off, but like as not they would remain girl of the golden west in their wigwam until the sun came forth again. in the matter of food there was a scant supply, but probably enough to tide them over until communi- cation could be had with the polka. for three days she watched over him, and all the time the storm continued. on the third day he became delirious, and that was the night of her tor- ture. despite a feeling that she was taking an un- fair advantage of him, the girl strained her ears to catch a name which, in his delirium, was con- stantly on his lips;. but she could not make it out. all that she knew was that it was not her name that he spoke, and it pained her. she had given him absolute faith and trust and, already, she was over- whelmed with the fierce flames of jealousy. it was a new sensation, this being jealous of anyone, and it called forth a passionate resentment. in such mo- ments she would rise and flee to the other end of the room until the whispered endearments had ceased. then she would draw near again with flushes of shame on her cheeks for having heeded the sayings of an irresponsible person, and she would take his head in her lap and, caressing him the while, would put cold towels on his heated brow. dawn of the fourth day saw the girl still pale and anxious, though despair had entirely left her; for the storm was over and colour and speech had come back to the man early that morning. love girl of the golden west that nick would not do for her; and as for the in- dians, the secret was sure to be kept by them, un- less jackrabbit got hold of some whisky — a con- tingency not at all likely, for nick had promised to see to that. in fact, all could be trusted to be as silent as the grave. the invalid had listened intently; nevertheless, he sighed: " it's hard to lie here. i don't want to be caught now." the girl smiled at the emphasis on the last word, for she knew that it referred to her. furthermore, she had diyined pretty well what had been his thoughts concerning his old life; but, being essen- tially a woman of action and not words, she said noth- ing. a moment or so later he asked her to read to him. the girl looked as she might have looked if he had asked her to go to the moon. notwithstanding, she got up and, presently, returned with a lot of old school-books, which she solemnly handed over for his inspection. the invalid smiled at the look of earnestness on the girl's face. “not these?” he gently inquired. “where is the dante you were telling me about?" once more the girl went over to the book-shelf; when she came back she handed him a volume, came m a girl of the golden west e which he glanced over carefully before showing her the place where he wished her to begin to read to him. at first the girl was embarrassed and stumbled badly. but on seeing that he seemed not to notice it she gained courage and acquitted herself cred- itably, at least, so she lattered herself, for she could detect, as she looked up from time to time, no ex- pression other than pleasure on his face. it may be surmised, though, that johnson had not merely chosen a page at random; on the contrary, when the book was in his hand he had quickly found the lines which the girl had, so to say, paraphrased, and he was intensely curious to see how they would appeal to her. but now, apparently, she saw nothing in the least amusing in them, nor in other passages fully as sentimental. in fact, no comment of any kind was forthcoming from her — though johnson was look- ing for it and, to tell the truth, was somewhat dis- appointed — when she read that dante had prob- ably never spoken more than twice to beatrice and his passion had no other food than the mists of his own dreaming. however, it was different when,- pausing before each word after the manner of a child, — she came to a passage of the poet's, and read: “'in that moment i say most truly that the spirit of life, which hath its dwelling in the most secret chambers of the heart, began to tremble so violently girl of the golden west . that the least pulse of my body shook herewith, and in the trembling it said these words: “here is a deity stronger than i who, coming shall rule over ܙܙ ܙ ܙ.me ta at that the girl let the book fall and, going down on her knees and taking both his hands in hers, she raised to him a look so full of adoring worship that he felt himself awed before it. "that 'ere dante ain't so far off after all. i know jest how he feels. oh, i ain't fit to read to you, to talk to you, to kiss you." nevertheless, he saw to it that she did. after this he told her about the inferno, and she listened eagerly to his description of the unfor- tunate characters, though she declared, when he ex- plained some of the crimes that they had committed, that they “got only what was rightly comin' to them." the patient could hardly suppress his amusement. dante was discarded and instead they told each other how much love there was in that little cabin on cloudy mountain. the days that followed were all much like this one. food was brought up from the polka and, by degrees, the patient's strength came back. and it was but natural that he became so absorbed in his newly-found happiness that he gradually was losing all sense of danger. late one night, however, when girl of the golden west all "i tella you something — you lika the maestro?” unconsciously the girl nodded, which evidently satisfied the mexican, for he went on: “you thinka well of him — yees. now i tella you something. the man pedro 'e no good. 'e wisha the reward — the money for ramerrez. 'e and the woman — woman no good — tell meester ashby they thinka 'im 'ere." the girl felt the colour leave her cheeks, though she made a gesture for him to proceed. “pedro not 'ere any longer," smiled the mexi- can. “me senda 'im to the devil. serva 'im right.” “ an' the woman?” gasped the girl. “she gone - got away — monterey by this time,” replied castro with evident disappointment. “but meester ashby 'e know too much — 'ees men everywhere searched the camp — no safa 'ere now. to-norrow -—" castro stopped short; the next in- stant with a joyful gleam in his eyes he cried out: “maestro!” "castro's right, girl,” said johnson, who had waked and heard the mexican's last words; “it is not safe a moment more here, and i must go." with a little cry of loving protest the girl ab- ruptly left the men to talk over the situation and sought the opposite side of the room. there, her eyes half-closed and her lips pressed tightly together girl of the golden west as she gave herself up to her distressing fears. after a while it was made plain to her that she was being brought into the conversation, for every now and then castro would look curiously at her; at length, as if it had been determined by them that nothing should be undertaken without her advice, johnson, followed by his subordinate, came over to her and related in detail all the startling information that castro had brought. quietly the girl listened and, in the end, it was agreed between them that it would be safer for the men not to leave the cabin together, but that castro should go at once with the understanding that he should procure horses and wait for the master at a given point across the ravine. it was decided, too, that there was not a moment to be lost in putting their plan into execution. in consequence, castro immediately took his departure. the hour that passed before the time set for johnson to leave the cabin was a most trying one for both of them. it was not so hard on the man, of course, for he was excited over the prospect of es- caping; but the girl, whose mind was filled with the dread of what might happen to him, had nothing to sustain her. despite his objection, she had stipu- lated that, with jackrabbit as a companion, she should accompany him to the outskirts of the camp. and so, at the moment of departure, throwing about her girl of the golden west mar a cloak of some rough material, she went up to her lover and said with a quiver in her voice: “i'm ready, dick, but i'm a-figurin' that i can't let you go alone — you jest got to take me below with you, an' that's all there is to it.” the man shook his head. “ there's very little risk, believe me. i'll join castro and ride all through the night. i'll be down below in no time at all. but we must be going, dear." the man passed through the door first. but when it came the girl's turn she hesitated, for she had seen a dark shadow flit by the window. it was as if someone had been stealthily watching there. in another moment, however, it turned out to be jackrabbit and, greatly relieved, the girl whispered to johnson that he was to descend the trail between the indian and herself, and that on no account was he to utter a word until she gave him permission. for another moment or so they stood in silence; johnson, appreciating fully what were the girl's feelings, did not dare to whisper even a word of encouragement to her. at last, she ordered the indian to lead the way, and they started. the trail curved and twisted around the moun- tain, and in places they had to use the greatest care lest a misstep should carry them over a precipice with a drop of hundreds of feet. it was a perilous girl of the golden west descent, inasmuch as the path was covered with snow. moreover, it was necessary that as little noise as possible should be made while they were mak. ing their way past the buildings of the camp below, for the mexican had not been wrong when he stated that ashby's men were quartered at, or in the imme- diate vicinity of, the palmetto. fortunately, they passed through without meeting anyone, and before long they came to the edge of the plateau beneath which was the ravine which johnson had to cross to reach the spot where it had been agreed that castro should be waiting with horses for his master. it was also the place where the girl was to leave her lover to go on alone, and so they halted. a few moments passed without either of them speaking; at length, the man said in as cheery a voice as he could summon: “i must leave you here. i remember the way well. all danger is past.” the girl's lips were quivering; she asked: “ an' when will you be back?" the man noted her emotion, and though he him- self was conscious of a choking sensation he con- trived to say in a most optimistic tone: “in two weeks — not more than two weeks. it will take all that time to arrange things at the rancho. as it is, i hardly see my way clear to dismissing my men — you see, they belong to me, almost, and — girl of the golden west but i'll do so, never fear. no power on earth could make me take up the old life again.” the girl said nothing in reply; instead she put both her arms around his neck and remained a long time in his embrace. at last, summoning up all her fortitude she put him resolutely from her, and whis- pered: “when you are ready, come. you must leave me now.” and with a curt command to the indian she fled back into the darkness. for an instant the road agent's eyes followed the direction that she had taken; then, his spirits rising at the thought that his escape was now well-nigh assured, he turned and plunged down the ravine. xv. as has been said, it was a custom of the miners, whenever a storm made it impossible for them to work in the mines, to turn the dance-hall of the polka saloon into an academy, the post of teacher being filled by the girl. it happened, therefore, that early the following morning the men of cloudy mountain camp assembled in the low, narrow room with its walls of boards nailed across inside upright beams — a typical miners' dance-hall of the late for- ties — which they had transformed into a veritable bower, so eager were they to please their lovely teacher. everyone was in high spirits, rance alone refraining from taking any part whatsoever in the morning's activities; dejectedly, sullenly, he sat tilted back in an old, weather-beaten, lumber chair before the heavily-dented, sheet-iron stove in a far corner of the room, gazing abstractedly up towards the stove's rusty pipe that ran directly through the ceiling; and what with his pale, waxen countenance, his eyes red and half-closed for the want of sleep, his hair ruffled, his necktie awry, his waistcoat un- fastened, his boots unpolished, and the burnt-out cigar which he held between his white, emaciated fingers, he was not the immaculate-looking rance of old, but presented a very sad spectacle indeed. girl of the golden west stretched and pointing to the next room. it said: " to the bar." it was, however, upon the teacher's desk — a whit- tled-up, hand-made affair which stood upon a slight- ly-raised platform — that the boys had outdone themselves in the matter of decoration. garlanded both on top and around the sides with pine boughs and upon the centre of which stood a tall glass filled with red and white berries, it looked not unlike a sacrificial altar which, in a way, it certainly was. a box that was intended for a seat for the teacher was also decorated with pine branches; while several cheap, print flags adorned the primitive iron holder of the large lamp suspended from the ceiling in the centre of the room. altogether it was a most fes- tive-looking academy that was destined to meet the teacher's eye on this particular morning. for some time nick had been standing near the window gazing in the direction of the girl's cabin. turning, suddenly, to rance, the only other occupant of the room, he remarked somewhat sadly: “i'd be willin' to lose the profits of the bar if we could git back to a week ago — before johnson walked into this room." at the mention of the road agent's name rance's eyes dropped to the floor. it required no flash of inspiration to tell him that things would never be what they had been. lan girl of the golden west “ johnson," he muttered, his face ashen white and a sound in his throat that was something like a groan. “a week — a week in her cabin — nursed and kissed . . .” he finished shortly. nick had been helping himself to a drink; he wheeled swiftly round, confronting him. “oh, say, rance, she —". rance took the words out of his mouth. “never kissed him! you bet she kissed him! it was all i could do to keep from telling the whole camp he was up there." his eyes blazed and his hands tightened convulsively. "but you didn't ...” nick broke in on him quickly. “if i hadn't been let into the game by the girl i'd a thought you were a level sheriff lookin' for him. rance, you're my ideal of a perfect gent.” rance braced up in his chair. “what did she see in that sacramento shrimp, will you tell me?" presently he questioned, con- tempt showing on every line of his face. the little barkeeper did not answer at once, but filled a glass with whisky which he handed to him. "well, you see, i figger it out this way, boss," at last he answered, meeting him face to face frankly, earnestly, his foot the while resting on the other's chair. “love's like a drink that gits a hold on you an' you can't quit. it's a turn of the head or a girl of the golden west “left cloudy at three o'clock this morning - five hours off ...” was his brief comment. once more a silence fell upon the room. then, all of a sudden, the sound of horses' hoofs and the murmur of rough voices came to their ears, and almost instantly a voice was heard to cry out: “hello!" “hello!" came from an answering voice. “why, it's the pony express got through at last!” announced nick, incredulously; and so saying he took up the whisky bottle and glasses which lay on the teacher's desk and dashed into the saloon. he had barely left, however, than the pony express, muffled up to his ears and looking fit to brave the fiercest of storms, entered the room, hailing the boys with: “hello, boys! letter for ashby!” the deputy — who with trinidad and sonora had come running in, the latter carrying a boot-leg and a stove-polishing brush in his hand — took the letter and started in search of the wells fargo agent who, rance had told them, had gone to sleep. “well, boys, how d’you like bein' snowed in for a week?” asked the pony express, warming himself by the stove; and then without waiting for an an- swer he rattled on: “ there's a rumour at the ridge that you all let ramerrez freeze an' missed a hangin'. say, they're roarin' at you, chaps !" girl of the golden west taugh. “he's a wearin' mournin' because johnson didn't fall alive into his hands,” interposed trinidad with a laugh. “is that it?" queried sonora. "ain't it enough, rance, that he must be lyin' dead down some canyon, with his mouth full of snow?” a mocking smile was on trinidad's face as he asked the question. "you done all you could to git 'im,” went on so nora as if there had been no interruption. “the boys is all satisfied he's dead.” “dead?” rance fairly picked up the word. “dead? yes, he's dead,” he declared tensely, and unconsciously arose and went over to the window where he stood motionless, gazing through the parted curtains at the snow-covered hills. presently the boys saw a cynical smile spread over his face, and a moment later, he added: “the matter with me is that i'm a chink.” this depreciation of himself was so thoroughly un-rance like, that it brought forth great bursts of laughter from the men, but notwithstanding which, rance went on to admit, in the same sullen tone, that it was all up with him and the girl. “throwed 'im!” whispered trinidad to sonora with a pleased look on his face. sonora, likewise, was beaming with joy when al- most instantly he turned to nick with: ds girl of the golden west was sonora's greeting, while the miners crowded around them. "no," replied the big, raw-boned, gullible-look- ing fellow with a grin. “we'll play it after school; you'll be the stirrup," promised sonora; then turning to his mates with a laugh, which was unobserved by bucking billy, he added: “we'll initiate 'im." presently the miners began to move away and trinidad, picking up a chip which he espied under a bench, put it on his shoulder and stood in the cen- tre of the room, thereby indirectly challenging the new pupil to a scrimmage. “don't do it!” cried old steady as he hung up his hat upon a buck's horn on the wall. “go on! go on!” encouraged bill crow, hang- ing up his hat beside old steady's. the boys took up his words in chorus. “go on! go on!" whereupon, sonora made a dash for the chip and knocked it off of trinidad's shoulder, blazing huskily into his face as he did so: “you do, do you?". in the twinkling of an eye trinidad's jacket was off and the two men were engaged in a hand-to-hand scuffle. “soak him!” came from a voice somewhere in the crowd. girl of the golden west a bunch of berries was also happy's contribu- tion, which he made with a stiff little bow and the one word: “regards." meantime nick, faithful friend that he was, went down on his knees and began to remove the girl's moccasins. the knowledge of his proximity encour- aged the girl to glance about her to see if she could detect any signs on the men's faces which would prove that they suspected the real truth concerning her absence. needless to say adoration and love was all that she saw; nevertheless, she felt ill-at-ease and, unconsciously, repeated: "hello, boys ! ” and then added, a little more bravely: “how's everythin' ?” "bully!" spoke up handsome charlie, who was posing for her benefit, as was his wont, beside one of the desks. “say, we missed you,” acknowledged sonora with a world of tenderness in his voice. “never knew you to desert the polka for a whole week before." “no, i—i ..." stammered guiltily, and with their little gifts turned abruptly towards her desk lest she should meet their gaze. “academy's opened,” suddenly announced happy, “and -” “yes, i see it is,” quickly answered the girl, brushing away a tear that persisted in clinging to . girl of the golden west her eyelids; slowly, now, she drew off her gloves and laid them on the desk. “i guess i'm kind o' nervous to-day, boys," she began. “no wonder,” observed sonora. “road agent's been in camp an' we missed a hangin'. i can't git over that." all a-quiver and not daring to meet the men's gaze, much less to discuss the road agent with them, the girl endeavoured to hide her confusion by asking nick to help her off with her cape. turning pres- ently she said in a strained voice: "well, come on, boys — come, now!" immediately the boys fell in line for the opening exercises, which consisted of an examination by the girl of their general appearance. “let me see your hands," she said to the man nearest to her; a glance was sufficient, and he was expelled from her presence. “let me see yours, sonora,” she commanded. holding his hands behind his back the man ad- dressed moved towards her slowly, for he was con- scious of the grime that was on them. before he had spoken his apology she ordered him none too gently to go and wash them, ending with an em- phatic: " git!" girl of the golden west of this country pretty quick," consoled the little bar. keeper just as rance, unperceived by them, quietly entered the room and went over to a chair by the stove. xvi no man had more of a dread of the obvious than the sheriff. his position, he felt, was decidedly an unpleasant one. nevertheless, in the silence that fol- lowed the girl's discovery of his presence, he strug- gled to appear his old self. he was by no means unconscious of the fact that he had omitted his usual cordial greeting to her, and he felt that she must be scrutinising him, feature by feature. when, there- fore, he shot a covert glance at her, it was with surprise that he saw an appealing look in her eyes. “oh, jack, i want to thank you —” she began, but stopped quickly, deterred by the hard expression that instantly spread itself over the sheriff's face. resentment, all the more bitter because he believed it to be groundless, followed hard on the heels of her words which he thought to be inspired solely by a delicate tactfulness. "oh, don't thank me that he got away,” he said icily. “it was the three aces and the pair you held -" this was the girl's opportunity; she seized it. “ about the three aces, i want to say that —" it was rance's turn to interrupt, which he did brutally. i girl of the golden west she ordered him to take his place once more in the line. in a little while they were all seated, and now, at last, it seemed to the barkeeper as if the air of the room had been freed of its tension. no longer did he experience a sense of alertness, a feeling that some- thing out of the ordinary was going to happen, and it was with immense relief that he heard the girl take up her duties and ask: “what books were left from last year?” at first no one was able to give a scrap of informa- tion on this important matter; maybe it was because all lips were too dry to open; in the end, how- ever, when the silence was becoming embarrassing, happy moistened his lips with his tongue, and answered: “why, we scared up jest a whole book left. the name of it is — isis —” the effort was beyond his mental powers and he came to a helpless pause. swelling with importance, and drawing forth the volume in question from his pocket, sonora stood up and finished: “_ is old joe miller's jokes." “that will do nicely," declared the girl and seated herself on the pine-decorated box. “now, boys," continued sonora, ever the most considerate of pupils, “ before we begin i propose no vers girl of the golden west wore drawin' of weppings, drinkin' or swearin' in school hours. the conduct of certain members wore on teacher last term. i don't want to mention no names, but i want handsome an' happy to hear what i'm sayin'.” and after a sweeping glance at his mates, who, already, had begun to disport themselves and jeer at the unfortunate pair, he wound up with: “ is that straight?" “you bet it is! " yelled the others in chorus; whereupon sonora dropped into his seat. in time order was restored and now the girl, look- ing at rance out of her big, frightened, blue eyes, observed: “rance, last year you led off with an openin' ad- dress, an'—" “yes, yes, go on sheriff !” cried the boys, hailing her suggestion with delight. nevertheless, the sheriff hesitated, seeing which, trinidad contributed: “let 'er go, jack!" 'at length, fixing a look upon the girl, rance rose and said significantly: "i pass." “oh, then, sonora,” suggested the girl, covering up her embarrassment as best she could, “won't you make a speech ?" “me — speak?” exploded sonora; and again: “me - speak? oh, the devil!” girl of the golden west that she meant what she said, at least for the moment. “an' now jest a few words more on the subject o not settin' judgment on the errin'— a subject near my heart.” this remark of the girl's brought forth murmurs of wonder, and in the midst of them the door was pushed slowly inward and the sidney duck, wearing the deuce of spades which the sheriff had pinned to his jacket when he banished him from their presence for cheating at cards, stood on the threshold, look- ing uncertainly about him. at once all eyes were focused upon him. “git! git!” shouted the men, angrily. this was followed by a general movement towards him, which so impressed the sidney duck that he turned on his heel and was fleeing for his life when a cry from the girl stopped him. "boys, boys,” said the girl in a reproving voice, which silenced them almost instantly; then, beckon- ing to sid to approach, she went on in her most gentle tones: “i was jest gittin' to you, sid, as i promised. you can stay." looking like a whipped dog the sidney duck ad- vanced warily towards her. sonora's brow grew thunderous. “what, here among gentlemen?" and that his protest met with instantaneous ap. wa girl of the golden west proval was shown by the way the miners shifted un- easily in their seats and shouted threateningly: “git! git!” “why, the fellow's a _" began trinidad, but got no further, for the girl stopped him by exclaiming: “i know, i know, trin — i've tho't it all over!” for the next few minutes the girl stood strangely still and her face became very grave. never before had the men seen her in a mood like this, and they exchanged wondering glances. presently she said: “boys, of late a man in trouble has been on my mind —” she paused, her glance having caught the peculiar light which her words had caused to appear in rance's eyes, and lest he should misunderstand her meaning, she hastened to add: “sid, o' course, — an' i fell to thinkin' o' the prodigal son. he done better, didn't he?" “but a card sharp," objected sonora from the depths of his big voice. “yes, that's what!” interjected trinidad, bel- ligerently. the girl's eyebrows lifted and a shade of resent ment was in the answering voice: “but s'pose there was a moment in his life when he was called upon to find a extra ace — can't we forgive 'im ? he says he's sorry — ain't you, sid?” all the while the girl had been speaking the sidney duck kept his eyes lowered and was swallow- girl of the golden west ing nervously. now he raised them and, with a feeble attempt to simulate penitence, he acknowl- edged that he had done wrong. nevertheless, he declared: “but if i 'adn't got caught things would 'a' been different. oh, yes, i'm sorry." in an instant the girl was at his side removing the deuce of spades from his coat. “sid, you git your chance," she said with trem- bling lips. “now go an' sit down." a broad smile was creeping over the sidney duck's countenance as he moved towards the others; but happy, took it upon himself to limit its spread. “take that!” he blazed, striking the man in the face. “and git out of here!" “happy, happy!” cried the girl. her voice was so charged with reproach that the sidney duck was allowed by the men to pass on without any fur- ther molestation. nevertheless, when he attempted to sit beside them, they moved as far away as possible from him and compelled him to take a stool that stood apart from the benches which held them to- gether in friendly proximity at this point trinidad inquired of the girl whether she meant to infer that honesty was not the best policy, and by way of illustration, he went on to say: girl of the golden west . “ tired of us? ain't we got style enough for you?" the girl did not answer; her breathing, swift and short, painfully intensified the hush that had fallen on the room; at last, the boys becoming impatient began to bombard her with questions. “be you goin' to show them ridge boys we've petered out an' culture's a dead dog here?” began happy, rising. "do you want them to think academy's busted?" asked handsome. “ain't we your boys no more?" put in trinidad, wistfully. "ain't i your boy?” asked sonora, sentimen- tally. “why, what is it, girl? has anybody — tell me — perhaps —". the girl raised her head and dried her eyes; when she spoke one could have heard a pin drop. “oh, no, no, no," she said with averted face, and added tremulously: “there, we won't say no more about it. let's forgit it. only when i go away i want to leave the key o' my cabin with old sonora here, an' i want you all to come up sometimes, an' to think o' me as the girl who loved you all, an' some- times is wishin' you well, an' i want to think o' little nick here runnin' my bar an' not givin' the boys too much whisky." her words died away in a sob girl of the golden west “gol aʼmighty!" “you liel” blazed trinidad in the next breath, and made a quick movement towards the sher- iff. but rance was not to be denied. seeing nick ad- vancing towards them he called upon him to verify his words; but that individual merely looked first at one and then the other and did not answer, which silence infuriated sonora. “why, you tol me ...?" he said with an angry look in his eye. “tol' you, sonora? why he toľ me the same thing," protested trinidad with an earnestness that, at any other time, would have sent his listeners into fits of laughter. this was too much for sonora; he flew into a paroxysm of rage. “well, for a first-class liar . . . ”. “you bet!” corroborated trinidad, relapsing, de- spite his anger, into his pet phrase. for some minutes the dejected suitors continued in this strain, now arguing and then condoling with one another, the boys, meanwhile, proceeding to clear the school-room of the benches, casks and planks, lifting or rolling them back into place as if they were made of paper. all of a sudden sonora's face cleared perceptibly. turning swiftly to the sheriff, who sat tilted back in ne girl of the golden west псе, pearing dejected and morose-looking. for his love and devotion to the girl were too genuine to permit of his taking any part whatsoever in what he believed was opposed to her happiness. on the other hand, rance, as may be inferred, was inwardly rejoicing, though when he perceived that nick was eyeing him steadily he was careful to lower his eyes lest the little barkeeper should see the triumph shining beneath them. and, finally, unable to bear nick's scrutiny any longer, he explained with a feeble attempt at self-defence: "well, i didn't do it, nick, i didn't do it.” but a moment later, his face hard and set, he added: “now he be damned! there's an end of john- son!”. the words were hardly out of his mouth, however, than johnson, his arms bound, followed by the dep- uty, strode into the room with the courage of one who has long faced death, and stood before the men who glared at him with fire in their eyes and murder in their hearts. “how do you do, mr. johnson. i think, mr. johnson, five minutes will do for you." rance gave to the words a peculiar accent and inflection, but this caused the prisoner to look even more composed and calm than before; he returned crisply: “i think so." “so this is the gentleman the girl loves?” so- ( girl of the golden west ceedings. “i handle the rope — pick the tree “then hurry...." said sonora, impatiently, while trinidad interposed with his usual, “ you bet!” “one moment," said the prisoner as the miners started to go out; and, strange to relate, the sheriff ordered the men to halt. turning once more to the prisoner, he said: “be quick — what is it?" “ it is true," began the unfortunate road agent in an even, unemotional voice, “ that i love the girl.” at these words rance's arms flew up threateningly, while a mocking smile sprang to his lips. “well, you won't in a minute," he reminded him grimly. the taunt brought no change of expression to the prisoner's face or change of tone in his voice as he went on to say that he did not care what they did to him; that he was prepared for anything; and that every man who travelled the path that he did faced death every day for a drink of water or ten minutes' sleep, concluding calmly: “you've got me and i wouldn't care but for the girl." “you've got just three minutes !” a shade al- most of contempt was in sonora's exclamation. “yes . . . " blazed trinidad. there was an impressive silence; then in a voice girl of the golden west ce that trembled strangely between pride and humility johnson continued: “i don't want her to know my end. why, that would be an awful thought for her to go on with all her life — that i died out there — near at hand. why, boys, she couldn't stay here after that — she couldn't ..." “that's understood," replied rance, succinctly. “i'd like her to think,” went on the prisoner, with difficulty choking back the tears, “that i got away clear and went east and changed my way of living. so you just drag me a good ways from here before you —” he stopped abruptly and began to swal- low nervously. when he spoke again it was with a perceptible change of manner. “and when i don't write and she never hears why she will say, 'he's for- gotten me,' and that will be about enough for her to remember, because she loved me before she knew what i was — and you can't change love in a min- anner ute." all the while johnson had been speaking the sheriff's jealousy had been growing steadily until, finally, turning upon the other with a succession of oaths he struck him a fierce blow in the face. "i don't blame you,” returned the prisoner with- out a trace of malice in his voice. “strike me again -strike me one death is not enough for me. damn me — i wish you could... oh, why girl of the golden west the end the sheriff would carry his point, and deter- mined to go before his courage failed him, johnson made a movement towards the door. speaking bravely, though his voice trembled, he said: “come, boys — come.” but, odd as it may seem, nick's words had taken root. “wait a minute," rance temporised. the prisoner halted. “i don't know that i'm so small a man as to deny the usual courtesies, since you put it that way," con- tinued rance. “i always have extended them. but we'll hear what you have to say — that's our protec- tion. and it might interest some of us to hear what the girl will have to say to you, mr. johnson — after a week in her cabin there may be more to know than " fire leapt to johnson's eyes; he cried hoarsely — “stop!” “rance, you don't know what you're sayin'," re- sented nick, casting hard looks at him; while sonora put a heavy hand upon the sheriff and threatened him with: “now, rance, you stop that!”. “we'll hear every word he has to say,” insisted the sheriff, doggedly. “you bet!" affirmed trinidad. “nick! nick!" called the girl once more, and girl of the golden west while the little barkeeper went over to admit her the wells fargo agent took his leave, calling back after him: “well, boys, you've got him safe — i can't wait — i'm off !” “dep, untie the prisoner! boys, circle round the bar! trin, put a man at that door! and sonora, put a couple of men at those windows !” and so swift were the men in carrying out his instructions, that even as he spoke, everyone was at his post, the sheriff himself and sonora remaining unseen but on guard at the doors, while the prisoner, edging up close to the door, was not in evidence when the girl entered. “ you can think of something to tell her — lie to her,” had been the sheriff's parting suggestion. “i'll let her think i risked coming back to see her again," had replied the prisoner, his throat trem- bling. “she won't know it's for the last time — we'll be there," had come warningly from the sheriff as he pointed to the door that led to the bar-room. oor “why, what have you got the door barred for?” asked the girl as she came into the room; and then without waiting for an answer: “why, where are the boys ?” girl of the golden west “well, you see, the boys — the boys has — has -" began nick confusedly and stopped. “the boys —" there was a question in the girl's voice. “has gone." “gone where?” “why, to the palmetter," came out feebly from nick; and then with a sudden change of manner, he added: “oh, say, girl, i likes you!” and here he laid his hand affectionately upon her shoulder. “you've been my religion — the bar an' you. why, you don't never want to leave us — why, i'd drop dead for you." “nick, you're very nice to —” began the girl, gratefully, and stopped, for at that instant a gentle tap came upon the door. turning swiftly, she saw johnson coming towards her. “ girl!” he cried in an agony of joy, and held out his arms to receive her. "you? you?" she admonished softly. “don't say a word,” he whispered hurriedly “you shouldn't have come back," she said with knitted brow. “i had to — to say good-bye once more." and his voice was so filled with tenderness that she readily forgave him for the indiscretion. “it's all right, it's all right," murmured nick, his hand still on the door, which he had taken the pre- girl of the golden west bas this caution to bolt after the girl had passed through it. there was a moment's silence; then, going over to the windows, the girl pulled down the curtains. “the boys are good for quite a little bit,” she said as she came back. “don't git nervous — i'll give you warnin' . . ." nick, unwilling to witness the heartrending scene which he foresaw would follow, noiselessly withdrew into the bar-room, leaving the prisoner alone with the girl. “don't be afraid, my girl,” said johnson, softly. but the girl's one thought, after her first gladness, was of his safety: “but you can't git away now without bein' seen ? " “yes, there's another way out of cloudy, and i'm going to take it." the grimness of his meaning was lost on the girl, who answered urgently: “then go — go! don't wait, go now!” johnson smiled a sad little smile: “but remember that i'm sorry for the past, and — and don't forget me," he said, with an odd break in his voice,— so odd that it roused the girl into startled wonderment. "forget you? why, dick...!” “i mean, till we meet again," he reassured her hastily. lea seadly girl of the golden west. "you let 'im go?” questioned the girl, still in a daze. “that's our verdict, an' we're prepared to back it up," declared sonora with a smile on his weathered face, though the tears streamed down his cheeks. the girl's face illumined with a great joy. she did not stop now to dissipate the tears which she saw rolling down sonora's face, as was her wont when any of the boys were grieved or distressed, but fairly flew out of the cabin, calling half-frantically, half-ec- statically: “ dick! dick! you're free! you're free! you're free . . .!" the minutes passed and still the miners did not move. they stood with an air of solemnity gazing silently at one another. only too well did they real- ise what was happening to them. they were inconsolable. presently, sonora, all in a heap on a bench, took out some tobacco and began to chew it as fast as his mouth would let him; happy, going over to the teacher's desk, picked up the bunch of ber- ries which he had presented her at the opening of the school session and began to fondle them; while trin- idad, too overcome to speak, stood leaning against the door, gazing sadly in the direction that the girl had taken. as for rance, after calling to nick to bring him a drink, he quietly brought out a pack of cards girl of the golden west from his pocket and, seemingly, became absorbed in a game of solitaire. a little while later, his eyes still red from weeping, nick remarked: “the polka won't never be the same, boys — the girl's gone." xviii the soft and velvety blackness of night was giving place to a pearly grey, and the feathery streaks of a trembling dawn were shooting heavenward when a man, whose head had been pillowed on a mexican saddle, rose from the ground in front of a tepee, made of blankets on crossed sticks, and seated himself on an old tree-stump where he proceeded to light a ciga- rette. in the little tepee, sheltered by an overhanging rock, the girl was still sleeping; and the man, sitting opposite the mound of earth and rock on which it was built, was johnson. a week had passed since the lovers had left cloudy mountain, and each day, at the moment when the sun burst above the snow-capped mountains, found them up and riding slowly eastward. no attempt what- ever was made at haste, but, instead, now climbing easily to the top of the passes, now descending into the valleys, they rode slowly on, ever loathe to leave behind them the great forests and high mountains. noon of each day found them always resting in some glen where the sun made golden lace-work of the branches over their heads; while at the approach of night when the great orb was no longer to be seen through the tree-tops and twilight was fast settling girl of the golden west upon the woods, they would halt near a pool of a dancing brook where, with the relish of fatigue, they would partake of their rations; and then, when the silences came on, johnson would proceed to put up with loving skill the girl's rude quarters and, stretch- ing himself out on a gentle slope, covered with pine needles matted close together, the man and the girl would go to sleep listening to the music of the stream as it gurgled and dashed along, foaming and leaping, over the rocks and beneath the little patches of snow forgotten by the sun. and to these two, whether in the depths of the vast forest or, as now, at the edge of the merciless desert, stretching away like a world without end, their environment seemed nothing less than a paradise. there were moments, however, in the long days, which could be devoted to reflection; and often john- son pondered over the strange fate that had brought him under the influence — an influence which held him now and which he earnestly prayed would con- tinue to hold him — and into close relationship with a character so different from his own. a contempla- tion of his past life was wholly unnecessary, for the realisation had come to him that it was her personal- ity alone that had awakened his dormant sense of what was right and what was wrong, and changed the course of his life. that his future was full of possibilities, evil as well as good, he was only too girl of the golden west well aware; nevertheless, his faith in himself was that of a strong man whose powers of resistance, in this case, would be immeasurably strengthened by con- stant association with a stronger character. it was while he was in the midst of these thoughts that the girl, without letting him see her, quietly drew the blankets of the tepee a little to one side and peered out at him. she, too, had not been without her moments of meditation. not that she regretted for an instant that she had committed herself to him irrevocably but, rather, because she feared lest he should find it difficult to detach himself, soul and body, from the adventurous life he had been lead- ing. such painful communings, however, were rare and quickly dismissed as unworthy of her; and now as she looked at him with faith and joy in her eyes, it seemed to her that never before had she seen him appear so resolute and strong, and she rejoiced that he belonged to her. at the thought a blush spread over her features, and it was not until she had drawn the blankets back into their place that she called from behind them: “are you awake, dick?”. at the sound of her voice the man quickly arose and, going over to the tepee, he parted the blankets and held them open. and even as she passed out the greyness of dawn was replaced by silver, and silver by pink tints which lighted up the pale green girl of the golden west of the sage brush, the dwarf shrubs and clumps of buffalo grass around them as well as the darker green of the pines and hemlocks of the foothills in the near distance. “another day, girl," he said softly. “see, the dawn is breaking!". for some moments they stood side by side in silence, the man thinking of the future, the woman serenely happy and lost in admiration of the calm beauty of the scene which, in one direction, at least, differed greatly from anything that she had ever be- held. every night previous to the one just passed they had encamped in the great forests; but now they looked upon a vast expanse of level plain which, to the north and east, stretched trackless and un- broken by mountain or ravine to an infinitude — the boundless prairies soon to be mellowed and turned to a golden brown by the shafts of a burning sun already just below the edge of an horizon aglow with opaline tints. the girl had ever been a lover of nature. all her life the mystery and silences of the high moun- tains had appealed to her soul; but never until now had she realised the marvellous beauty and glory of the great plains. and yet, though her eyes shone with the wonder of it all, there was an unmistakably sad and reminiscent note in the voice that presently murmured: ies soo girl of the golden west “another day." after a while, and as if under the spell of some unseen power, she slowly turned and faced the west where she gazed long and earnestly at the panorama of the snow-capped peaks, rising range after range, all tipped with dazzling light. “oh, dick, look back !" she cried in distress. “the foothills are growin' fainter.” she paused, but suddenly with a far-off look in her eyes she went on: “every dawn — every dawn they'll be farther away. some night when i'm goin' to sleep i'll turn an' they won't be there — red an' shinin'." again she paused as if almost overwhelmed with emotion, saying at length with a deep sigh: “oh, that was indeed the promised land!” johnson was greatly moved. it was some time before he found his voice. at length he chided her softly: “we must always look ahead, girl — not back- wards. the promised land is always ahead." it was perhaps strange that the girl failed to see the new light — the light that reflected his desire for a cleaner life and an honoured place in another community with her ever at his side — the hope and faith in his eyes as he spoke; but still in that sad, reminiscent mood, with her eyes fixed on the dim distances, she failed to see it, though she replied in a voice of resignation: girl of the golden west “ always ahead — yes, it must be.” and then again with tears in her eyes: “ but, dick, all the people there in cloudy, how far off they seem now — like shadows movin' in a dream — like shadows i've dreamt of." only a few days ago i clasped their hands — i seen their faces — their dear faces — -—" she broke off; then while the tears streamed down her cheeks: “an' now they're fadin'— in this little while i've lost 'em — lost 'em." “but through you all my old life has faded away. . . . i have lost that...." and so say- ing he stretched out his arms towards her; but very gently she waved him back with a murmured: “not yet!" for a little while longer her gaze remained on the mountains in the west. the mist was still over her eyes when she turned again and saw that the sun was clearing the horizon in opulent splendour. “see,” she cried with a quick transition of mood, “the sun has risen in the east — far away — fair an' clear!” again johnson held out his arms to her. “a new day -- a new life — trust me, girl.” in silence she slipped one hand into his; then she bowed her head and repeated solemnly: “yes - a new life.” suddenly she drew a little away from him and faced the west again. clinging tightly now to him girl of the golden west with one hand, and the other raised high above her head, she cried in a voice that was fraught with such passionate longing that the man felt himself stirred to the very depths of his emotions: “oh, my mountains, i'm leavin' you! oh, my california — my lovely west — my sierras, i'm leavin' you!” she ended with a sob; but the next moment throwing herself into johnson's arms she snuggled there, murmuring lovingly: “oh, my home!” a little while later, happy in their love and fear- lessly eager to meet the trials of the days to come in a new country, they had mounted their mustangs and were riding eastward. n & l new c this book should be returned to the library on or before the last date stamped below. a fine of five reents a day is incurred by retaining it beyond the specified time. please return promptly. nov goh sep book due mme ala - harvard - college library venri eas from the subscription fund begun in . musdates n. hora the lonesome trail ee sena drawn by f. e. schoonover the race with the fire see "the nemesis of the deuces," page the lonesome trail by john g. neihardt “in the fell clutch of circumstance i have not winced nor cried aloud.” new york : john lane company, mcmvii london : john lane, the bodley head ཚབ་ས་བ་ཡོ་ཤེས་པ་ཞིག་འབབས་པས་སྐྱེས་སཞུས་ན་ ༑ ཚངས་ཀ་:སྐུལ་བ་ o rend ala had . lol harvard university library apr subscrplim ford copyright, , by john g. neihardt to volney streamer “ friend of my yester-age' the stories in this volume have appeared in the following magazines: munsey's, the american magazine, the smart set, the scrap book, the all-story, watson's, overland monthly. the author gratefully acknowledges permission to re- publish. contents page . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . chapter i. the alien . . . . . ii. the look in the face iii. feather for feather iv. the scars. . v. the fading of shadow flower vi. the art of hate vii. the singer of the ache viii. the white wakunda ix. the triumph of seha x. the end of the dream xi. the revolt of a sheep xii. the mark of shame xiii. the beating of the war drums . xiv. dreams are wiser than men xv. the smile of god . . . xvi. the heart of a woman . . xvii. mignon . . . . . xviii. a political coup at little omaha xix. the last thunder song . . xx. the nemesis of the deuces . . . . . . ams are r tha . . . . . .. . the old cry o mourner in the silence of the hills, o thing of ancient griefs, art thou a wolf? i heard a cry that shook me-was it thine? low in the mystic purple of the west the weird moon hangs, a tarnished silver slug: vast, vast the hollow empty night curves down, stabbed with the glass-like glinting of the stars, and, save when that wild cry grows up anon, no sound but this dull murmur of the hush- the winter hush. . hark! once again thy cry! thy strange, sharp, ice-like, tenuous complaint, as though the spirit of this frozen waste pinched with the cruel frost yearned summerward! i know thou art a wolf that criest so: though hidden in the shadow, i can see thy four feet huddled in the numbing frost, thy snout, breath-whitened, pointing to the sky: poor pariah of the plains, i know 'tis thou. and yet—and yet-i heard a kinsman shout! down through the intricate centuries it came, a far-blown cry! from old-world graves it grew, up through the tumbled walls of ancient realms, up through the lizard-haunted heaps of stone, up through the choking ashes of old fanes, the pitiful debris where grandeur dwelt, out of the old-world wilderness it grew the cry i know! and i have heard my kin! the alien \hrough the quiet night, crystalline with the pervading spirit of the frost, under i prairie skies of mystic purple pierced with the glass-like glinting of the stars, fled antoine. huge and hollow-sounding with the clatter of the pinto's hoofs hung the night above and about—lone- some, empty, bitter as the soul of him who fled. a weary age of flight since sunset; and now the midnight saw the thin-limbed, long-haired pony slowly losing his nerve, tottering, rasping in the throat. with pitiless spike-spurred heels the rider hurled the beast into the empty night. “ gwan! you blasted cayuse! you overgrown wolf- dog! you pot-bellied shonga! keep up that tune; i'm goin' somewheres. what'd i steal you fer? pleasure? he, he, he, ho, ho, ho! i reckon; pleas- ure for the half-breed! gwan!” suddenly rounding a bank of sand, the pinto sighted the broad, ice-bound river, an elysian stream of glinting silver under the stars. sniffing and crouching upon its haunches at the sudden glow that dwindled a gleaming thread into the further dusk, the jaded beast received a series of vicious jabs from the spike-spurred heels. it groaned and lunged for- ii the lonesome trail ward again, taking with uncertain feet the glaring path ahead, and awakening dull, snarling thunder in the under regions of the ice. slipping, struggling, doing its brute best to overcome fatigue and the un- certainty of its path, the pinto covered the ice. "doin' a war dance, eh?” growled the man with bitter mirth, and gouging the foaming bloody flanks of the animal. “gwan! set up that tune; i want fast music, 'cause i'm goin' somewheres don't know where—somewheres out there in the shadders! come here, will you ? take that and that and that! now will you kick the scen'ry back'ards ? by the- i". the brutal cries of the man were cut short as he shot far over the pommel, lunging headlong over the pinto's head, and striking with head and shoulders upon the glare ice. when he stopped sliding he lay very still for a few moments. then he groaned, sat up, and found that the bluffs and the river and the stars and the universe in general were whirling gid- dily, with himself for the dizzy centre. with uncertain arms he reached out, endeavouring to check the sickening motion of things with the sheer force of his powerful hands. he was thrown down like a weakling wrestling with a giant. he lay still, cursing in a whisper, trying to steady the universe, until the motion passed, leaving in his nerves the sickening sensation incident to the sudden ending of a rapid flight. with great care antoine raised himself upon his elbows and gazed about with an imbecile leer. then the alien he began to remember; remembered that he was hunted; that he was an outcast, a man of no race; remembered dimly, and with a malignant grin, a por- tion of a long series of crimes; remembered that the last was horse-stealing and that some of the others concerned blood. and as he remembered, he felt with horrible distinctness the lariat tightening about his neck—the lariat that the men of cabanne's trad. ing post were bringing on fleet horses, nearer, nearer, nearer through the silent night. antoine shuddered and got to his feet, looming huge against the star-sprent surface of the ice, as he turned a face of bestial malevolence down trail and listened for the beat of hoofs. there was only the dim, hollow murmur that dwells at the heart of silence. “got a long start," he observed, with the chuckle of a man whom desperation has made careless. “hel-lo!” a pale, semicircular glow, like the flare of a burn- ing straw stack a half day's journey over the hills, had grown up at the horizon of the east; and as the man stared, still in a maze from his recent fall, the moon heaved a tarnished silver arc above the mystic rim of sky, flooding with new light the river and the bluffs. the man stood illumined—a big brute of a man, heavy-limbed, massive-shouldered, with the slouching stoop and the alert air of an habitual skulker. he moved uneasily, as though he had suddenly become visible to some lurking foe. he * the lonesome trail glanced nervously about him, fumbled at the butt of a six-shooter at his belt, then catching sight of the blotch of huddled dusk that was the fallen pinto, the meaning of the situation flashed upon him. “that cussed cayuse! gone and done hisself like as not! damn me! the whole creation's agin me!” he made for the pony, snarling viciously as though its exhausted, lacerated self were the visible body of the inimical universe. he grasped the reins and jerked them violently. the brute only groaned and let its weary head fall heavily upon the ice. “get up!” antoine began kicking the pony in the ribs, bring- ing forth great hollow bellowings of pain. “o, you won't get up, eh? agin me too, eh? take that, and that and that! i wished you was everybody in the whole world and hell to oncet, i'd make you beller now i got you down! take that!” the man with a roar of anger fell upon the pony, snarling, striking, kicking, but the pony only groaned. its limbs could no longer support its body. when antoine had exhausted his rage, he got up, gave the pony a parting kick on the nose, and started off at a dogtrot across the glinting ice towards the bluffs beyond. ever and anon he stopped and whirled about with hand at ear. he heard only the sullen murmur of the silence, broken occasionally by the whine and pop of the ice and the plaintive, bitter wail of the coyotes s the alien somewhere in the hills, like the heartbroken cry of the lonesome prairie, yearning for the summer. “o, i wouldn't howl if i was you," muttered the man to the coyotes; “i wished i was a coyote or a grey wolf, knowin' what i do. i'd be a man-killer and a cattle-killer, i would. and then i'd have peo- ple of my own. wouldn't be no cur of a half-breed runnin' from his kind. o, i wouldn't howl if i was you!" he proceeded at a swinging trot across the half mile of ice and halted under the bluffs. he listened intently. a far sound had grown up in the hollow night—vague, but unmistakable. it was the clatter of hoofs far away, but clear in faintness, for the cold snap had made the prairie one vast sounding-board. a light snow had fallen the night before, and the trail of the refugee was traced in the moonlight, dis- tinct as a wagon track. antoine felt the pitiless pinch of the approaching lariat as he listened. then his accustomed bitter weariness of life came upon the pariah. “what's the use of me runnin'? what am i run- nin' to? nothin'-only more of the same thing i'm runnin' from; lonesomeness and hunger and the like of that. gettin' awake stiff and cold and half starved and cussin' the daylight 'cause it's agin me like every- thing else, and gives me away. sneakin' around in the brush till dark, eatin' when i can like a damned wolf, then goin' to sleep hopin' it'll never get day. but it always does. it's all night somewheres, i guess, the lonesome trail cl. spite of what the missionaries says. that's fer me night always! no comin' day, no gettin' up, some- where to hide snug in always !” . he walked on with head dropped forward upon his breast, skirting the base of the bluffs, now seem- ingly oblivious of the sound of hoofs that grew mo- mently more distinct. as he walked, he was dimly conscious of passing the dark mouth of a hole running back into the clay of a bluff. he proceeded until he found himself again at the edge of the river, staring down into a broad, black fissure in the ice, caused, doubtless, by the dash of the current crossing from the other side. a terrible, dark, but alluring thought seized him. here was the place—the doorway to that place where it was always night! why not go in? there would be no more running away, no more hiding, no more hatred of men, no more lonesomeness! here was the place at last. he stepped forward and stooped to gaze down into the door of night. the rushing waters made a dis- mal, moaning sound. he stared transfixed. yes, he would go! suddenly a shudder ran through his limbs. he gave a quick exclamation of terror! he leaped back and raised his face to the skies. how kind and soft and gentle and good to look upon was the sky! he gazed about—it was so fair a world! how good it was to breathe! he longed to throw his great, brute arms about creation and the alien with angry breath, snarlings of hate, yelps of pain, growls, whines. at last the man knew that it was a grey wolf he fought. he reached for its throat, but felt his hand caught in a hot, wet, powerful trap of teeth. he grasped the under jaw with a grip that made his an- tagonist howl with pain. then with his other hand he felt about in the darkness, groping for the throat. he found it, seized it with a vice-like clutch, shut his teeth together, and threw all of the power of his massive frame into the struggle. slowly, slowly, the struggles of the wolf became weaker. the lean, hairy form fell limply, and the man laughed with a strange, sobbing, guttural mirth -for he was master. then again he felt the trickle of blood upon his cheek, the ache of his bitten hand. his anger re- turned with double fury. he kicked the limp body as he lay beside it, never releasing his grip. suddenly he forgot to kick. there were sounds! he heard the thump thump of hoofs passing his place of refuge. then they ceased. there were sounds of voices coming dimly; then after a while the hoofs passed again, and there was a voice that said “ saved hangin' anyway." the hoof beats grew dimmer, and antoine knew by their hollow sound that his pursuers had begun to cross the ice on the back trail. he again gave his attention to the wolf. it lay very still. a feeling of supreme comfort came over antoine. it was the lonesome trail sweet to be a master. he laid his head upon the wolf's motionless body. he was very weary, he had conquered, and he would sleep upon his prey. he awoke feeling a warm, rasping something upon his wounded cheek. a faint light came in at the entrance of the place. it was morning. in his sleep antoine had moved his head close to the muzzle of the wolf. now, utterly conquered, bruised, unable to arise, the brute was feebly licking the blood from the man's wound. antoine's sense of mastery after his sound sleep made him kind for once. he was safe and something had caressed him, altho' it was only a soundly-beaten wolf. “you pore devil !” said antoine with a sudden softness in his voice; " i done you up, didn't i? you hain't so bad, i guess; but if i hadn't done you, i'd got done myself. hurt much, you pore devil, eh?” he stroked the side of the animal, whereupon it cried out with pain. * pretty sore, eh? well as long as i'm bigger'n you, i'll be good to you, i will. i ain't so bad, am i? you treat me square and you won't never get no bad deals from the half-breed; mind that. hel-lo! you're a miss wolf, ain't you? well, for the present, i'm a mister wolf, and i'm a good un! let me hunt you up a name; somethin' soft like a woman, 'cause you did touch me kind of tender like. susette! —that's it-susette. you're susette now. i hain't got no people, so i'm a wolf from now on, and my the alien name's antoine. susette and antoine-sounds pretty good, don't it? say, i know as much about bein' a wolf as you do, can't teach me nothin' about sneak- in' and hidin' and fightin'! say, old girl, hain't i a tol'able good fighter now? o, i know i am, and when you need it again, you're goin' to get it good and hard, susette; mind that. hain't got nothin' to eat about the house, have you, old girl? then, bein' head of the family with a sick woman about, i'm goin' huntin'. don't you let no other wolf come skulkin' around! you know me! i'll wear his skin when i come back, if you don't mind." and he went out. before noon he returned bringing three jack rab- bits, having shot them with his six-shooter. “well, susette,” said he, “got any appetite?” he passed his hand over the wolf's snout caress- ingly. the wolf alinched in fear, but the man con- tinued his caresses until she licked his hand. “now we're friends and we can live together peaceable, can't we? took a big family row, though. families needs stirrin' up now and then, i reckon.” he skinned a rabbit and cut off morsels of meat. “here, susette, i'm goin' to fill your hide first, 'cause you've been so good since the row that i'm half beginnin' to love you a little. there, that's it- eat. does me good to see you eat, pore, sick susette!" the wolf took the morsels from his hand and a look almost tame came into her eyes. when she had the lonesome trail eaten a rabbit, antoine had a meal of raw flesh. then he sat down beside her and stroked her nose and neck and flanks. there was an air of home about the place. he was safe and sheltered, had a full stomach, and there was a fellow creature near him that showed kindness, altho' it had been won with a beating. but this man had long been accustomed to possessing by violence, and he was satisfied. “susette," he said in a soft voice; “ don't get mean again when you get well. i want to live quiet and like somethin' that likes me oncet. if you'll be good, i'll get you rabbits and antelope and birds, and you won't need to hunt no more nor go about with your belly flappin' together. and i know how to make fire --somethin' you don't know, wise as you be; and i'll keep you warm and pet you. “is it a bargain? all you need to do is just be good, keepin' your teeth out'n my cheek. i've been lonesome always. i hain't got no people. do you know who your dad was, susette? neither do i. some french trader was mine, i guess. we're in the same boat there. my mother was an omaha. o susette, i know what it means to set a stranger in my mother's lodge. 'wagah peazzha!' [no good white man], that's what the omahas called me ever since i was a little feller. and the white men said 'damn injun.' and where am i? o, hangin' onto the edge of things, gettin' ornry and nasty and bad! i've stole horses and killed people and cussed fer days, susette. and i want to rest; i want to love the alien somethin'. cabanne's men down at the post would laugh to hear me sayin' that. but i do. i want to love somethin'. tried to oncet; her name was susette, jest like your'n. she was a trader's daugh- ter-a pretty french girl. that was before i got bad. i talked sweet to her like i'm a talkin' to you, and she kind of liked it. but the old man lecroix- that was her dad—he showed me the trail and he says: 'go that way and go fast, you damn injun!' “i went, susette, but i made him pay, i did. i seen him on his back a-grinnin' straight up at the stars; and since then i hain't cared much. i killed several after that, and i called 'em all lecroix ! “be a good girl, susette, and i'll stick to you. i'm a good fighter, you know, and i'm a good grub-hun- ter, too. i learned all that easy." he continued caressing the wolf, and she licked his hand when he stroked her muzzle. days passed; the winter deepened; the heavy snows came. antoine nursed his bruised companion back to health. through the bitter nights he kept a fire burning at the entrance of the hole. the depth of the snow made it improbable that any should learn his whereabouts; and by that time the news must have spread from post to post that antoine, the outlaw half-breed, had drowned himself in the ice-fissure. the man had used all his ammunition, and his six- shooter had thus become useless. with the skill of an indian he wrought a bow and arrows. he made snowshoes and continued to hunt, keeping the wolf the lonesome trail in meat until she grew strong and fat with the unac- customed luxurious life. also she became very tame. during her weakness the man had subdued her, and through the long nights she lay nestled within the man's great arms and slept. when the snow became crusted, antoine and susette went hunting together, she trotting at his heels like a dog. to her he had come to be only an un- usually large wolf—a masterful male, a good fighter, strong to kill, a taker of his own. one evening in late december, when the low moon threw a shaft of cold silver into the mouth of the lair, antoine lay huddled in his furs, listening to the long, dirge-like calls of the wolves wandering inward from the vast pitiless night. susette also listened, sitting upon her haunches beside the man with her ears pricked forward. when the far away cries of her kinspeople arose into a compelling major sound, dying away into the merest shadow of a pitiful minor, she switched her tail uneasily, shuffled about nery. ously, sniffing and whining. then she began pacing with an eager swing up and down the place to the opening and back to the man, sending forth the cry of kinship whenever she reached the moonlit entrance. “night's cold, susette," said antoine; "tain't no time fer huntin'. hain't i give you enough to eat? come here and snuggle up and let's sleep." he caught the wolf and with main force held her the alien down beside him. she snarled savagely and snapped her jaws together, struggling out of his arms and going to the opening where she cried out into the frozen stillness. the answer of her kind floated back in doleful chorus. "don't go!” begged the man. “susette, my pretty susette! i'll be so lonesome.” as the chorus died, the wolf gave a loud yelp and rushed out into the night. a terrible rage seized an- toine. he leaped from his furs and ran out after the wolf. she fled with a rapid, swinging trot over the scintillating snow toward the concourse of her people. the man fled after, slipping, falling, getting up, running, running, and ever the wolf widened the glittering stretch of snow between them. to an- toine, the ever-widening space of glinting coldness vaguely symbolised the barrier that seemed growing between him and his last companion. “susette, o, susette ! ” he cried at last, breathless and exhausted. his cry was dirgelike, even as the wolves'; thin and sharp and icelike—the voice of the old world-ache. she had disappeared in the dusk of a ravine. an- toine, huddled in the snows with his face upon his knees, sobbed in the winter stillness. at last, with slow and faltering step, he returned to his lair; and for the first time in months he felt the throat-pang of the alien. he threw himself down upon the floor of the cave and cursed the world. then he cursed susette. the lonesome trail "it's some other wolf !” he hissed. “some other grey dog that she's gone to see. o, damn him! damn his grey hide! i'll kill her when she comes back!” he took out his knife and began whetting it viciously upon his boot. “i'll cut her into strips and eat 'em! wasn't i good to her? o, i'll cut her into strips !". he whetted his knife for an hour, cursing the while through his set teeth. at last his anger grew into a foolish madness. he hurled himself upon the bunch of furs beside him and imagined that they were susette. he set his teeth into the furs, he crushed them with his hands, he tore at them with his nails. then in the impotence of his anger, he fell upon his face and sobbed himself to sleep. strange visions passed before him. again he killed lecroix, and saw the dead face grinning at the stars. again he sat in his mother's lodge and wept because he was a stranger. again he was fleeing, fleeing, fleeing from a leather noose that hung above him like a black cloud, and circled and lowered and raised and lowered until it swooped down upon him and closed about his neck. with a yell of fright he awoke from his night- mare. his head throbbed, his mouth was parched. at last day came in sneakingly through the opening- a dull, melancholy light; and with it came susette, sniffing, with the bristles of her neck erect. “susette! susette!" cried the man joyfully. he no longer thought of killing her. he seized the alien n . her in his arms; he kissed her frost-whitened muzzle; he caressed her; he called her a woman. she received his caresses with disdain. whereat the man re- doubled his acts of fondness. he fed her and petted her as she ate; whereat the bristles on her neck fell. she nosed him half fondly. and antoine, man-like, was glad again. he con- tented himself with touching the frayed hem of the garment of happiness. he ate none that day. he said to himself, “i won't hunt till it's all gone; she can have it all.” he was afraid to leave susette. he was afraid to take her with him again into the land of her own people. antoine was jealous. all day he was kind to her with the pitiful kind- ness of a doting lover for his unfaithful mistress. that night she consented to lie within his arms, and antoine cried softly as he whispered into her ear: “susette, i hain't a goin' to be jealous no more. you've been a bad girl, susette. don't do it again. i won't be mean less'n you let him come skulkin' round here, damn his grey hide! but o, susette "- his voice was like a spoken pang—“i wish–i wisht i was that other wolf !”. the next morning antoine did not get up. he felt sore and exhausted. by evening his heart was beating like a hammer. his head ached and swam; his burning eyes saw strange, uncertain visions. “susette," he called, “i hain't quite right; come here and let me touch you again.” an a bad g"; vou let h o susette , the lonesome trail night was falling and susette sat sullenly apart, listening for the call of her people. she did not go to him. all night the man tossed and raved. after a lingering age of delirious wanderings, dizzy flights from huge pitiless pursuers, he became conscious of the daylight. he raised his head feebly and looked about the den. susette was gone. a fury of jealousy again seized antoine. she had gone to that other wolf-he felt certain of that. he tried to arise, but the fever had weakened him so that he lay impotently, torn alternately with anger and longing. suddenly a frost-whitened snout was thrust in at the opening. it was susette. the man was too weak to cry out his joy, but his eyes filled with a soft light. susette entered sniffing strangely, whining and switching her tail as she came. at her heels followed another grey wolf—a male, larger-boned, lanker, with a more powerful snout. he whined and moved his tail nervously at sight of the man. antoine lay staring impotently upon the intruder. “ so that's him," thought the man; “i wisht i could get up." a delirious anger shook him; he struggled to arise, but could not. “o god,” he moaned; it was an un- usual thing for this man to say the word so; " o god, please le' me get up and fight!” a harsh growl stopped him. the grey intruder approached him with a rapid, sinuous movement of the tail. his jaws grinned hideously with long sharp the lonesome trail tive, the keeper of his own. lacerated with the snap- ping of powerful jaws, bleeding from his face and hands, the man felt that he was winning. with a whining cry, less than half human, he succeeded in fixing his left hand upon the hairy throat, crushed the wolf down upon its back, and with prodigious strength, began pressing the fingers of his right hand in between the protruding lower ribs. he would tear them out! he would thrust his hand in among the vitals of his foe! all the while susette, whining and switching her tail, watched with glowing eyes the struggle of the males, and waited for the proof of the master. at this juncture she arose with a nervous, threat- ening swaying of the head, approached the two cau- tiously, then hurled herself into the encounter. she leaped with a savage yelp upon him who had long been her master. the man's grip relaxed. he fell back and threw out his arms in which once more the weakness of the fever came. “ susette!” he gasped; “i was good to you; his voice was choked into a wheeze. susette had gripped him by the throat, and the two were upon him. she had gone back to the ways of her kind-and the man was an alien. ii the look in the face it was after one of the saturday night feasts at no-teeth lodge that i drew my old friend, half-a-day, to one side where the shadows were not broken by the firelight. “tell me another story, half-a-day," i said. he grunted and puffed at his pipe in silence. “have i not given much cow meat to the feast and did i not throw silver on the drums ? " “ah," he assented. "then i wish to hear a story." “you are my friend,” he began with majestic de- liberation, speaking in his own tongue; “ for we have eaten meat together from the same kettle and looked upon each other through the pipe smoke. it will therefore make me glad to tell you a story about buffalo meat- " “ah, about a hunt?” * and a me-zhinga [girl]—_" “oh, a love story!”. “ and a man whom i wished to kill." “good! and did you kill him?" “my brother is like all his white brothers, who leap at things. never will they wait. if i said yes or no, then would i have no story." the lonesome trail “then give me a puff at the pipe, half-a-day, and i will be patient." half-a-day gave me the pipe and began, with eyes staring through the fire and far away down the long trail that leads back to youth. “many winters and summers ago i was a young man; now i am slow when i walk and my head looks much to the ground. but i remember, and now again i am young for a little while. i can smell the fires in the evening that roared upward then, even tho' they are cold these many moons and their ashes scattered. and i can see the face of paezha [flower], the one daughter of douba mona, for my eyes are young too. and douba mona was a great man. “paezha was not so big as the other squaws, and could never be so big, because she was not made for building tepees and bringing wood and water. she was little and thin and good to see like some of your white sisters, and there was no face in the village of my people like her face. her feet touched the ground with a light touch like a little wind from the south; her body bent easily like a willow; i think her eyes were like stars.” i smiled here, because the simile has become so trite among us white lovers. but half-a-day saw me not; he looked down the long trail that leads back to youth, leading through and beyond the fire. “and i looked upon her face until i could see nothing else—not the sunrise nor the sunset nor the moon and stars. her face became a medicine face to the look in the face me; because i was a young man and it was good to see her. and also, i was a poor young man; my father had few ponies, and her father had as many as one could see with a big look. “but i was strong and proud and in the long nights i dreamed of paezha, till one day i said: 'i will have her and i will fight all the braves in all the villages before i will give her up. then afterwards i will get many ponies like her father.' “so one evening when the meat boiled over the fires, i went down to the big spring and hid in the grass, for it was the habit of paezha to bring cold water to her father in the evenings, carrying it in a little kettle no bigger than your head covering, for she was not big. "and i lay waiting. i could not hear the bugs nor the running of the spring water nor the wind in the willows, because my heart sang so loud. “and i heard a step—and it was paezha. she leaned over the spring, and looked down; then there were two paezhas, so my wish for her was doubled and had the strength of two wishes. “i arose from the grass. she looked upon me and fear came into her eyes; for there was that in my face which wished to conquer, and i was very strong. like the tae-chuga [antelope] she leaped and ran with wind-feet down the valley. i was with- out breath when i caught her, and i lifted her with arms too strong, for she cried.” half-a-day reached toward me for the pipe and the lonesome trail puffed strongly. his eyes were masterful, with the world-old spirit of the conquering male in them. “ then as i held her, i looked upon her face and saw what i had never seen before: a look in the face that was sad and weak and frightened, begging for pity. only it was not all that; it was shining like the sun through a cloud, and it was stronger than i, for i became weak and could hold her no longer. a little while she looked with wide eyes upon me; and then i saw what makes the squaws break their backs carrying wood and water and zhinga zhingas [babies] ; also what makes men fight and do great deeds that are not selfish. “then she ran from me and i fell upon my face and cried like a zhinga zhinga at the back of a squaw -i know not why." half-a-day puffed hard at his pipe, then sighing handed it to me. “have you seen that look in the face, white brother?” he said, staring upon me with eyes that mastered me. “i am very young," i answered. “but when you see it, it will make you old," con- tinued half-a-day; " for when i arose and went back to the village i was old and nothing was the same. from that time i could look into the eyes of the biggest brave without trembling, for i was a man and i had seen the look. ." and it was in the time when the sunflowers die, the time for the hunting of bison. so the whole tribe the look in the face made ready for the hunt. one morning we rode out of the village on the bison trail; and we were so many that the foremost were lost in the hills when the last left the village. and we all sang, but the ponies neighed at the lonesome lodges, for they were leaving home. “many days we travelled toward the evenings, and there was song in me even when i did not sing; for always i rode near paezha, who rode in a blanket swung on poles between two ponies, for she was the daughter of a rich man. and i spoke gentle words to her, and she smiled—because she had seen my weakness in the valley of the big spring. also i picked flowers for her, and she took them. “but one day black dog rode on the other side of her and spoke soft words. and a strange look was on the face of paezha, but not the look i had seen. so i drove away the bitterness of my heart and spoke good words to black dog. but he was sullen, and also he was better to look upon than i. i can say this now, for i have felt the winds of many winters. “many sleeps we rode toward the places of the evening. the moon was thin and small and bent like a child's bow when we started, and it hung low above the sunset. and as we travelled it grew bigger, ever farther toward the place of morning, until it was like a white sun. then at last it came forth no more, but rested in its black tepee after its steep trail. “and all the while we strained our eyes from many lonesome hilltops, but saw no bison. scarcer and the lonesome trail scarcer became the food, for the summer had been a summer of fighting; we had conquered and feasted much, hunted little. “ so it happened that we who were strong took less meat that the weaker might live until we found the bison. and all the time the strength of paezha's face grew upon me, so that i divided my meat with her. it made me sing to see her eat. “one day she said to me: 'why do you sing, half-a-day, when the people are sad?' and i said: 'i sing because i am empty. and black dog, who rode upon the other side, he did not sing. so she said to him: “why do you not sing, black dog? is it because we do not find the bison ?' and black dog said: "i do not sing because i am empty. “ all day i was afraid that paezha had judged between us, seeing me so light of thought and deed. “one evening we stopped for the night and there was not enough meat left to keep us three sleeps longer. the squaws did not sing as they pitched the tepees. they were empty, the braves were empty, and the zhinga zhingas whined like little baby wolves at their mothers' backs, for the milk they drank was thin milk. no one spoke. the fires boomed up and made the hills sound as with the bellowing of bulls, and the sound mocked us. the dark came down; we sat about the fires but we did not speak. we groaned, for we were very empty, and we could not eat until we had slept. once every sleep wę ate, and we had eaten once. the lonesome trail dreams of paezha. and on the evening of the third sunlight i stopped upon a hill, and turned my pony loose to feed. i was sick and weak because my emp- tiness had come back upon me and i had not yet found the bison. i fell upon my face and moaned, and my emptiness sent me to sleep. “when i awoke, someone sat beside me—and it was black dog. he breathed soft words. 'i have come to watch over half-a-day,' he said, 'because i am older and a bigger man.' “i spoke not a word, but my heart was warm to- ward black dog, for my dreams of paezha had made me kind. "well i know,' he said, and his voice was soft as a woman's; 'well i know what half-a-day dreams about. and i have come to watch over him that his dream may come true. " then being a young man and full of kindness, i told black dog of the look i had seen in the face of paezha. and he bit his lips and made a sound far down in his throat that was not pleasant to hear. and i fell to sleep wondering much. “when i awoke, the ponies were gone, the meat was gone, black dog was gone. i grew strong as a bear. i shrieked into the stillness! i shook my fists at the sun! i cursed black dog! i stumbled on over the hills and valleys, shouting, singing, hurling big words of little meaning into the yellow day. “before night came i found the body of a dead wolf, and i fell upon it like a crow. i tore its flesh the lonesome trail soft words to paezha, brave words to douba mona, until i was almost forgotten. “but now i was a great man among my people, and black dog could not raise his head, for he had “and in the time of the first frosts we reached our village and paezha became my squaw. also i got the ponies." here half-a-day paused to fill his pipe. “ it is a good story, half-a-day," i said. half- a-day lit his pipe, stared long into the glow of the embers, for the fires had fallen, and sighed. “i have not spoken yet," he said;" for one day in the time of the first snow, paezha lay dead in my lodge, and my breast ached. black dog had killed her at the big spring. at the same place where i had first seen the look, there he killed her. “i remember that i sat beside her two sleeps and cried like a zhinga zhinga. and my friends came to me, whispering bitter words into my ears. “kill black dog,' they said. and i said: 'bring him here to me, and i will kill him; my legs will not carry me.' “but the fathers of the council would not have it so. and when they had buried her on the hill above the village, i awoke as from a long sleep, a very long sleep, and i was full of hate. they kept me in my lodge. they would not let me kill. i wished to kill ! i wished to tear him as i tore the stinking wolf with my teeth! i wished to kill!”. half-a-day had arisen to his feet, his fists clenched, the look in the face his eyes shining with a cold light. he made a tragic figure in the dull, blue glow of the embers. " come, half-a-day," i said, “it is long passed, and now it is only a story." " it is more than a story!” he said. "" i lived it. i wished to kill !” he sat down again, and a softer light came into his eyes. “and the time came,” he went on with a weary voice, “when black dog should be cast forth from the tribe, according to the old custom. i said, 'i will follow black dog, and i will see him die.' and he was cast forth. i followed, and it was very cold. the snow whined under my feet, and i followed in the night. “but black dog did not know i followed. i was ever near him like a shadow. i did not sleep; i watched black dog. i meant to see him die. " in his first sleep i crept upon him. i stole his meat; i stole his weapons. now he would die, and i would be there to see. i would laugh, i would sing while he died. "in the cold, pale morning i lay huddled in a clump of sage and i saw him get up, look for his meat and weapons, then stagger away into the lonesome places of the snow. and i sang a low song to myself. the time would come when i would see black dog die. i did not feel the cold; i did not grow weary; i was never hungry. and in the evenings i was ever near enough to hear him groan as he wrapped himself the lonesome trail in his blankets. often i crept up to him and looked upon his face in the light of the stars, and i saw my time coming, for his face was thinner and not so good to look upon as in the time when the sunflowers died. "i could have killed him, but then he could not have heard me sing, he could not have heard me laugh. so i waited and followed and watched. i ate my meat raw that black dog might not see my fire. also i watched to see that he found nothing to eat; and he found nothing. “one day i lay upon the summit of a hill and saw him totter in the valley. then i could be quiet no longer. i raised my voice and shouted: ‘fall, black dog! even so half-a-day fell when black dog stole his meat and his pony! “and i saw him get up and stare about, for i was hidden. then his voice came up to me over the snow; it was a thin voice: 'i know you, half-a-day! come and kill me!! “ 'half-a-day never killed a sick man nor a *squaw,' i shouted, and then i laughed—a cold, bitter laugh. then black dog shook his fists at the four corners of the sky and stumbled off into the hills, and i followed. now my time was very near, for black dog felt my nearness and he knew that he would die and i would see him. “ and one evening my time came. black dog was in the valley by a frozen stream, and he fell upon his face, sending forth a thin cry as he fell—thin and ice- like. he did not get up. he lay very still. mct. the look in the face “i ran down to where he lay—and i laughed, laughed, laughed. i heard him groan. i rolled him over on his back and looked upon his face. “i wish i had not looked upon his face! “he opened his eyes and they were very dim and sunken. his face was sharp. i sat down beside him. i said, “now die, and i will sing about it.' “then his face changed. it became a squaw's face—and it had the look!-a look that was sad and weak and frightened and begging for pity. and it seemed to me that it was not the face of black dog any more. it had the look! i had seen it in the face of paezha by the spring! “now since i have many winters behind me, i wonder if it was not a coward's face; but then it was not so. i grew soft. there was a great springtime in my breast. the ice was breaking up. i wrapped my blankets about him. i gave him meat. he stared at me and ate like a wolf. i spoke soft words. i made a fire from the brush that was on the frozen stream. i warmed him and he grew stronger. all night i watched him and in the morning i said: 'take my bow and arrows, black dog; i wish to die. go on and live.' for i had lost the wish to kill; i only wished to die. and he said no word; but his eyes were changed. “i staggered away on the back trail. i had no meat, i had no blankets, i had no weapons. i meant to die. “but i did not die. when i lay down at night, the lonesome trail worn-out and half frozen, someone wrapped blankets about me and built a fire by me. in the mornings i found food beside me. and so it was for many sleeps until at last i came to the village of my peo ple, broken, caring for nothing. and i was thin, my face was sharp, my eyes were sunken, my step was slow. “and the people looked upon me with wonder, saying: 'half-a-day has come back from killing black dog. “ but the truth was different." when half-a-day had finished, he stared long into the fire without speaking. “do you think black dog was all a coward?” i asked at length. "perhaps he only loved too much.” “i do not know," said half-a-day; “i only know sometimes i wish i had not looked upon his face." iii feather for feather ium-um-um, tum-um-um, went the drums beaten by the hands of the old men —too old for wars, but now grown mo- mentarily youthful with the victory of the young men who were returning from battle. tum-um-um, tum-um-um! so sang the drums— great, glad buckskin drums, exultant beneath the staccato blows of the old men's drumsticks. tum-um- um, tum-um-um! now the women, dressed in their gayest garments of dyed buckskin, radiant in beads, with the spirit of song upon their painted faces, came forth in a long file from a lodge and approached the centre of the open space about which were grouped the mud lodges of the village. there, in the centre, sat the old men. the drums were singing a glad song, in sullen tones, in this hour of victory, for a runner, breathless with his speed, had brought the good news when the sun was half- way down the sky, and now the slowly setting sun was blazing on the evening hills. soon the whole victorious band, fresh from their fight with the sioux, would come over the hills like an eager, dusty wind, clamorous with glad tongues the lonesome trail and thunderous with the driven hoofs of captured ponies. so the drums sang and the women came forth and circled about them, peering beneath hands raised browward, into the deepening shadows of the valley down which the band would sweep. they swelled the song of victory, the song of wel- come to the victors, and the look of welcome was already upon their faces as they searched the deepen- ing shadows. there came a rumble over the hills as of a hidden storm in time of drouth, thundering mockingly in the rainless air. the drummers lifted their sticks with trembling hands and listened—with one accord they all listened for the shouts and the hoof beats. now the faint treble of distant shouting pierced the growing rumble of the thunder. it was the braves! they were returning with much glory and many ponies. the drumsticks fell snarlingly upon the taut buckskin, but the sound seemed only a whis- per, for the entire village was shouting with a tumult that made the grazing ponies snort upon the hillsides and gallop away with ears pricked wonderingly. “they come! they come!” the villagers thronged upon that side of the vil- lage that looked toward the hills from whence the thunder deepened. a dust cloud gathered behind the hills. it grew until it caught the horizontal sunlight and seemed a scintillating tower of victory. sud- denly the hill above the valley was thronged with feather for feather u . mounted braves, waving their weapons above their heads and shouting, and a sunlit cloud of glory seemed about them. the band swept down the hillside and down the valley, and the dust cloud thickened under the im- petuous hoofs that beat the parched and yellow prai- rie. when they drew near the opening in the circle of lodges, the foremost hurled his panting pony back upon its haunches and the others reared and halted behind, champing at the restraining thongs. "a-ho!” shouted the foremost, holding his weapons above his head. “we come from the sioux! we have many ponies and also scalp-locks ! sing! for we have fought a good fight and we are not ashamed!”. a great shout went up from the village, and the drums snarled. slowly, majestically, the circle of women began moving about the drums, keeping time to the rhythmic beats with a sideward shuffling of their feet in the dust. in a monotonous minor key the singing of the women began-at first like the crooning of an indian mother to a restless child when the camp fires burn blue, and all the braves are snor- ing in the dark. then it rose into the mournful wail of a wife looking upon a dead face-a wordless, eloquent song. then, with a burst, it rose into a treble cry, and words became dimly recognisable amid the ecstasy. "we come, we come, and we are not ashamed!” sang the women to the snarling of the drums. “let the lonesome trail the fires roar and the bison meat be cooked, for we have fought, and now we wish to eat! “let the women dance and sing that we may be glad after our fighting! a-ho! a-ho! we travelled far-one sleep, two sleeps, three sleeps, but we slum- bered not! we came upon our enemies. they were hidden in the grass like badgers. they were dressed in yellow grass that they might hide. we saw them and we shouted with joy, for we were not afraid! the enemy trembled like wolves who have come to the end of the ravine and the hunters follow behind!” as the women sang, shuffling about the circle, the braves rode in single file into the enclosure of the village and formed a circle about the dance. . “i saw a big man among my enemies," sang the women, for so their song ran. “he was strong as a bear and terrible as an elk. his head was proud with eagle feathers, for many men had he killed. i did not tremble when he rushed at me; i raised my club and struck him, and he fell with his eagle feathers. he whimpered like an old woman when she becomes a child again. he said, 'i have many ponies for you, and my children will cry if i do not go back. spare me!' but behold! i have his scalp lock !” “his scalp lock! his scalp lock!” shouted the braves, as the words of the song were drowned again in the minor drone that followed the snarl of the drums. and they waved scalp locks above their heads —the locks of the fallen sioux. feather for feather out of the droning the song of the women grew again. it became more ecstatic, running the gamut of human passion from the shrill shriek of defiance to the mournful wail for those who had fallen in the battle. and then the shuffling stopped; the song died away into a drone and ceased, like the song of a locust at the end of a sultry evening. the drums snarled no more, a great silence fell, the sun had sunk beneath the hills. then, in the silence and the shadows of the even- ing, one came forth from among the circle of braves, and, with a slow, majestic bending of the knees, danced in a circle about the women and the drums, that began again as an accompaniment to the song that he would sing. round and round the circle he danced, improvising a song to the rhythm of the drums, in which he sang his prowess, and the whole village shouted when he reached the end of his song, for he told of a good fight and a strong arm, and he had been great in battle. then, amid the shouting, another came forth to dance and sing, for he too had done great things. it was white cloud, and he was great among his people. round and round the circle he danced to the tune of the drums, dodging imaginary arrows, leap- ing upon imaginary foes, striking huge blows at the heads of warriors hidden in the shadow. “see!” he shouted in his song, and his voice was loud and masterful, for a murmur of praise had the lonesome trail passed among the people. “see! white cloud brings the scalp lock of a chief. he took it alone with his strong hand. the scalp lock of a big sioux chief! who has done a greater deed than white cloud? then let the old men place the eagle feather in his hair that he may be known among his people." once again the dancing stopped and the drums ceased their droning. white cloud approached the old men, who slowly placed the eagle feather in his hair. but one among the assembled braves did not give his voice to the shout that ensued. his gaze narrowed with hatred as he looked upon white cloud, and his body trembled as a strong tree that stands alone in the path of a tempest. then as white cloud strode proudly to the inner rim of the circle of braves, with the tall eagle feather in his hair, another came forth bearing with him his bow and his arrows. it was he who had found no voice in which to celebrate white cloud's valour. he was tall and sinewy, and he had the clear-cut, cruel face of a hawk, now dark with a darkness deeper than the shadow of the evening. it was lit- tle weasel. erect, quivering like a strong bow in the clutch of a mighty warrior, he walked into the open space, and the drums once more began their wailing. but little weasel raised one trembling hand and commanded silence. feather for feather “fathers," he said, and his voice was low, vibrant with the growl of a wounded beast in it, “little weasel needs no drums to help him fill the stillness." the people bent forward, hushed, because there was something deeper than shadow in the face of little weasel as he turned his hawk's gaze upon the bowed head of white cloud. “little weasel has words to utter, but they are not song words nor dance words. let the women and cowards sing and dance!” still the head of white cloud was bowed, and little weasel laughed a strange laugh. “who took the scalplock of the big sioux chief?” shouted little weasel. “i, little weasel, took it! one sleep, two sleeps, i kept it close beside me; for i am a young man and i wanted to hear the shouts of my people. but in the third sleep a great heaviness came upon me, and when i awoke my sioux scalp lock had been stolen from me. now i know the badger who crept upon me in my heaviness and stole my honour from me. look! you have placed the eagle feather in his hair!". in the hush that filled that shadowed place naught but the heavy breathing of the people was heard. little weasel fitted a feathered arrow to his bow. “ see!” he cried. “i do not cry about my stolen feather. i give another!” the bow-thong twanged, the arrow sang, and lodged deep in white cloud's breast. “let white cloud wear that feather in his breast the lonesome trail so that the black spirits will know him! for look! already he is among them!” white cloud had fallen upon his face.. little weasel dropped his bow upon the ground, and, rais- ing his hands above his head, he shouted into the stillness: “fathers, i have given feather for feather!" then a great cry broke from the assembled braves and the women shrieked. but little weasel shoul. dered his way through the throng and went to his lodge, laughing bitterly. that evening the fires of the feast did not roar upward into the night. there was no song; there was no babble of glad voices; there was no bubbling of kettle nor scent of meat. for a member of the tribe had been murdered by a tribesman, and the murderer, according to an an- cient custom, would be driven forth that night from the circle of the lodges into the prairie. and the people sat speechless at the dark doors of their lodges awaiting the signal. after a long and wordless waiting in the dark, the people saw the door-flap of the big council lodge swing open, and they held their breaths, for the time of the casting forth had come. through the hush of the starlit night came little weasel, pacing slowly about the circle of the village, and the fathers of the council, slow with age, fol. lowed behind. three times the outcast made the rounds, and when feather for feather he began the fourth and last circle (for four is a medicine number), the old men who followed raised their faces to the starlit sky and breathed these words into the quiet: “let the people look upon little weasel, our brother, for he has killed a brother and must suffer. four times shall the bears bring forth their cubs; four times shall the lone goose fly; four times shall the frogs sing in the valleys; four times shall the sunflowers grow; and he must wander, wander. then shall little weasel return and his deed shall be for- gotten. wah-hoo-ha-a-a-a!” then when little weasel came the fourth time to the opening in the circle of lodges, looking toward the place of sunrise, he saw one standing in the dark who held a pony by a thong. and little weasel leaped upon the pony, laughed a loud, unpleasant : laugh, and urged it southward into the night. throughout the night the people in the village heard strange sounds. for at times somewhere in the darkness of the hills, something laughed a loud, unmirthful laugh. “do you hear it?” the people whispered. “ it is a wolf. for sometimes in the lonesome nights they laugh so." but the people muffled their ears in their blankets, for it is not good to hear a wolf laugh almost like a man. all night long little weasel wandered upon the hills, holding his grazing pony and looking down upon the starlit village of his people. he laughed $$ of the hill. for at times in the village the lonesome trail loudly at times, for he was not one of those who sadden with trouble. “how can i get revenge upon my people ?” he asked himself. and as yet he could not answer. the pale dawn found him sitting upon the hills. then he arose and mounted his pony and the three went southward—the pony, the man, and the question. a light wind blew upon his back. “how can i get revenge upon my people ?” he sang aloud in endless variation until his question wove itself into a song—a battle song, for little weasel had not eaten, and hunger feeds anger. but the light wind sighing at his back made no answer. "i will go to the country of the pawnees and make them angry with my people,” he said to himself, and this seemed the answer to his question until the sun had reached its highest in the sky and the wind had fallen and the yellow prairie had become parched and bare. in the afternoon he stopped in the glare of the sun and held one wet finger above his head that he might learn the source of the wind. there was a faint breath from the south. as he stood it increased, coming in little puffs, hot and fit- ful and dry. suddenly it came with a great puff and boomed in the arid gulches. little weasel shouted with joy. he had heard his answer in the booming of the sudden wind. he dismounted, and, with a flint and some dry grass, lit a little fire. feather for feather the great wind fed it and it grew. then little weasel collected a bunch of grass, lit it and rapidly set fire to the dry prairie. long, yellow flames leaped up from the sun-cured buffalo-grass, howled in the wind that grew stronger and stronger, and raced northward toward the valley where the circled lodges of the omahas lay. “now i will go back," said little weasel, “and the fire shall go with me.” he kicked his pony in the ribs and pointed its head northward. the wave of flame preceded him, skimming the surface of the grass with great leaps, gaining strength and fleet- ness as the dry wind lashed it from behind. “aha-ha-he-ha-ha-ha-ha!” sang little weasel, and the pony, straining its wiry limbs to keep pace with the yellow giant that ran before, wheezed and coughed an accompaniment to the song, for the ashes were in his nostrils. over hills, through valleys, across gulches the pony ran, with the wall of flame ever a strong man's bow-shot ahead of him. now the omahas, who had been deprived of their feast of victory the evening before, had made the feast fires roar upward throughout the village that day and much meat had been eaten. weary with much dancing and singing and heavy with meat, the evening twilight found them sleeping heavily. and the night deepened and still they slept. but there was one upon whom the feast had laid but a light hand, and who awoke suddenly in the the lonesome trail night with a smell in his nostrils, a roaring in his ears, and a great light in his eyes. he maryelled, for the feast fires were dead in their ashes. he arose, and when he reached the door of his lodge he gave a cry that woke the sleeping village and brought the people clamouring into the open air. half the earth and half the sky were aflame. the stars had fled before the great burning. booming in the strong wind, a wave of flame was coming over the hills and reaching long, spiteful arms toward the village in the valley spellbound, the people gazed. then of a sudden a cry ran among them, for they had seen, through a momentary rift in the flame and smoke, high upon the eminence of a peaked, fire-blackened hill, a man standing upon a pony's back, with his arms above his head. he looked prodigiously big and seemed to ride upon a flood of fire. then the flames closed in, the smoke hid the peaked hill, and frantically the people fled from their village to a nearby creek, where they huddled in the stream, and where the loud flame passed over them, booming on into the north. when the gray of morning fell upon the black- ened prairie, the people returned to their village. but at the opening in the circle of lodges stood a mounted man. both he and his pony were blackened as with fire. it was little weasel. as his people drew near he raised a wheezing voice and said: “behold little weasel, whom the is feather for feather fire-spirits love! all day i rode across the hills, thinking of my people's unkindness. in the even- ing a great fire grew up about me. it was not a common fire; it was a medicine fire. it grew up about me and my pony, and lifted us like the waters of a flood. and i was frightened till i heard a voice that thundered, and it said: 'little weasel has been punished by a foolish people. the spirits of fire will take him back and his people will take him in again.' and lol here i am, little weasel. i want my eagle feather.” and the people, believing many strange things, took him in with a great feasting. and from that day they called him by another name—paeda-nu, the fire-man. and he was great among his people. iv the scars y friend, the old frontiersman, poked an extra supply of cobs into the stove, medi- tatively watched the sudden flame lick about the husks, then began this monologue after his usual manner: yes, i've got a nice place here—nice ranch. didn't work for it either-lied for it! now, i'm not given much to that sort of thing, as you will grant; but when i see a place where a good manly twisting of the truth can sweeten mat- ters up a bit, i'm not so scrupulous. back in the late fifties i was living in st. louis, pretty nigh broke, for all i'd lived a hard, industri- ous life up and down the river. one day i got a note bearing the postmark of some california mining town, and it informed me that i had a considerable credit with a certain st. louis bank. i never heard directly where the money came from, but i thought i knew. i bought this place with some of that money, you see. and there's a little story attached to this. for a number of years i was employed by the american fur company as expressman. every win- . the scars ter i made the trip from st. louis to fort pierre, a distance of about a thousand miles. carried mes- sages from headquarters to the posts and from the posts back to headquarters. from st. louis to pierre the trip was made on horseback, and from there up, other expressmen carried the mail on dog sleds. great days, those! sometimes when i get to thinking over old times, i wonder if the railroads haven't taken some of the iron out of the blood of men. in the winter of ' —that was the year the gold fever was raging, you know, i got to pierre about the middle of february. when i had delivered the mail and was making ready to start south again with the returns, old choteau, the factor of the post, called me into the hut he called his office, and made an unusual request of me. “we've got a half-breed here,” said he, “who's got to be elevated. under- stand? killed a man in the most atrocious manner. he's due at a necktie party down at st. louis about next spring, and i'd rather not keep him at the post; can you take him down?” i was somewhat younger in those days, and ready for most anything new. also, i had found the trail a little lonesome at times. riding a preoccupied broncho through hundreds of miles of white silence, hearing the coyotes yelp, dodging indians, and buck- ing blizzards weren't ever calculated to be social functions, you know. so i was glad to have com- the lonesome trail pany on the trail, even if it had to be the company of a criminal. anyway, i had been so taught in the great rough school of primitive men, that i had not that loathing for a killer of his kind that is felt by this generation. “ certainly," said i to the factor. “put him on a mule, and i'll see him into the government corral at st. louis.” so it was arranged that i should take the man to the authorities. i did not hear his name spoken and i didn't take the trouble to ask. it seemed to me that a man who was being shipped out with a tag on him read- ing“ nowhere," had little use for a name. no one was apt to dispute his identity. well, they put him on a mule, handcuffed, with a chain to his ankles passed around the belly of the mule. he was, of course, unarmed, and i drove him on ahead of me to break trail. he was a powerfully built fellow, neither tall nor short, and close-knit. he had a face that was not so bad, showing the french and indian strains in him plainly. when we had been riding along silently for several hours, i called to him to stop and rode up beside him. i looked into his eyes, and that look satisfied me that i was safe in doing what i had thought of. his eyes were large and black and quiet. “i am going to take the cussed irons off your legs and arms," i said; “ you can't keep warm this way." he watched me taking them off and said nothing. i threw the irons away. “go on," i said. and the scars ow. he went, giving me a look that thanked me more than words could have done. he had the eyes of a brave man. i was never much afraid of a brave man; it's the cowards you have to watch, you know. all day we rode, saying nothing. in the evening we made a shelter with our blankets in the bend of a creek where the plum bushes were thick. the man was a good hand at the business, and seemed anxious to please me. we cooked and ate supper, then rolled up in our blankets. i put my two six-shooters under my head for fear that i might have somehow misread the man's eyes. when i awoke in the morning, he had breakfast cooked and the nags saddled. when we were eating i said: “why didn't you take my horse and run away? i could never have caught you with the mule." he searched me for a moment with his eyes. “because i'm not a coward,” he said. and all day we rode again in silence, until, toward evening, he set up a wild sort of a song—a chanson of his fathers, i suppose—in a voice that was strong but sweet. “you sing!” said i. breaking off his song and turning about on his mule, he said quietly, as though he were discussing the best way to make biscuits when you haven't any soda: “did you ever see a dead liar?” the lonesome trail "perhaps,” said i; “but none in particular.” “and that is why you never sing." that was the last word that day. up to this time the weather had been rather too warm for winter—an ominous sort of a warm, you know. a mist hung over the country, drifting with a light wind from the southeast. during the night the wind whipped into the northwest, and in the morning we had a genuine frank old blizzard howling around us; one of those fierce old boys that nobody cares to face. we had camped in a wooded nook on the south side of the river bluffs and were pretty well protected, so i decided to lay up there until things brightened up a bit. the man, for i had not yet learned his name, which was not necessary, as the mail i carried at- tended to that, volunteered to gather wood; and so i lay in the tent near the fire that roared in front, smoking my pipe and swapping cusses with myself or account of the delay. after a while the man came in with a big arm load of wood, whistling merrily. “well, you beat 'em all,” i said. “i say a man who can whistle like that on his last trip is a game one. what's your name and who are you? here, want to smoke?”. i gave him my pipe. he took it and blew rings meditatively for a while. “well,” said he, “the name doesn't matter much, and i'm the fellow who's elected to be elevated!” we both laughed strangely, and i began to open the scars my stock of yarns, truthful and otherwise, to relieve the tedium of the day. i had told a number of stories when the man seemed to brighten up all at once. his eyes became on a sudden unusually brilliant. “i know a story that's a fact," said he. “it's about a friend of mine—one of the best friends i ever had, i reckon. at least he never went back on me. shall i tell it?” “go ahead," said i. and this is the story he told me: “my friend's name is narcisse. i knew him when he was just a little shaver. i knew his mother and his father. in fact i was, at one time, just like one of the family. “narcisse was a wild sort of a boy always, though i do think his heart was in the right place, as they say. never betrayed a friend, never stole, and never knuckled to an enemy. but he was a wild boy and didn't stay at home much after he was in his first 'teens. knocked about the world considerable, nar- cisse did, and wound up out here in this god- forsaken end of creation. worked on a cordelle gang, handled mackinaws, hammered pack mules, fought indians, starved and feasted, froze and toasted, like all the others who come out here. en- tered the fur trade as engagé of the company, and was sent to a post up river. “now if there was a weak spot in narcisse, it was his leaning toward women folks. none of your fooling, though! narcisse loved just like he'd fight- the lonesome trail pretty serious, you know. when he said a thing, narcisse he meant that; and when he wanted to do something real bad, he did that— , spite of hell he did that! you know the breed? well, that was narcisse. “there was an old french trader living at a post further up-old man desjardins. he had a daugh- ter—paulette—by an indian woman who died when the girl was just a baby, and the old man raised her somehow—god knows how-till she grew to be about the prettiest girl you'd see anywhere in a year's tramp, being a good walker. old man doted on the girl, and until she was full-grown there wasn't any- body could come nigh enough to her to make a sweet grin effective. but once narcisse and his friend, jacques baptiste, got snowed in there on one of their trips. “now them two, jacques and narcisse, was about the best friends you ever saw, i reckon. they never had any secrets from one another; and many's the time they had split the last bit of grub on long winter trails, and made a feast of that little; because there isn't any feast better than a little grub split between friends, is there? “now paulette was a slender little creature with black eyes and lots of black hair. lots of hair ! that makes a woman fetching, don't you think so? well, narcisse and jacques sang old french songs during the blizzard, and kind of got into the old man's heart like. nothing like old-time songs to the scars fetch a man when he's got to that place where there isn't any way to look but back. so the old man made 'em welcome and said for 'em to come back when they could. “on the trip from old man desjardins' place to pierre, them two friends talked pretty frank, like they always did. both of 'em was in love, and neither of 'em was ashamed of it. told each other so. “when they camped the first night they talked it all over and narcisse said: 'jacques, we've always split even, but here's where we can't. it's for one of us all right, but one of us has to go without. how about this?' “and jacques puffed at his pipe a long time, and after a while he said: 'let's agree that we'll always go up there together, and let her take her pick.' and narcisse agreed; so that's the way they fixed it. " managed to drop in pretty often after that. but there wasn't any way of telling which was it. one visit she'd smile more at jacques than at nar- cisse, and they'd think it was settled; and then next time it was t'other way. “it was a game, and both of 'em played it like a game. they were too good friends to slip a bower or ace up their sleeves. they let paulette deal the hands and they played 'em the best they could, same as honest poker, you know. and all the time old man desjardins looked on like the man that runs the gamė, a-raking in the ante, which was the singing the lonesome trail and the laughing they did and the things they brought up with 'em, for they never came empty- handed. “well, the next fall came; the game was still on and neither of 'em had stole a hand nor a chip that wasn't his. and along about the first of september the factor of pierre sent the two friends on a trip to benton. they went up on the last boat and were to drop down again in a maciknaw before the winter set in, after doing a little business for the company. “on the trip up narcisse and jacques had a quiet little game, which was poker. they didn't play for money—played for paulette. sort of made a jack- pot out of the girl, and it took jacks or better to open. one deal and a draw and the high hand could go to see the old man by himself and close the game that had hung on so long. “narcisse insisted on having jacques deal.. "well,' said jacques, after the draw, the jack- pot's mine!' “narcisse throws down three aces. jacques gasps a little gasp and throws his cards face up on the table, turns white and walks away. he had two pairs-kings and queens! “there wasn't anything more said about it; but jacques wasn't the same man at all. acted like he was thinking, thinking all the time. face got that peaked look that comes of too much thinking; eyes always looking a long ways off. “how do i know this? w'y, narcisse told me. the scars “hurt narcisse like everything to see this; but hadn't he won fair? friends can split even on grub and follow the same trail for years, but there comes a time when they must smoke their last pipe together at the forks. but it's all part of the game and a man oughtn't to grumble if he don't get a pat hand, as long as the deal's fair. “narcisse and jacques got to benton, and when they got ready to start back, the river had frozen up, because the winter came down early that year. so they had another winter trail to follow together before they reached the forks. the factor at benton gave 'em a couple of good dogs to carry their bed- ding and they started out afoot. " jacques didn't have much to say. with that peaked, set look on his face he went a-trudging on in the snow from sunup to sundown. narcisse couldn't help feeling a little happy, because paulette was the prettiest girl that ever haunted these parts since the river was dug. it wasn't any more than human, and he'd won fair. “well, they passed union and they passed les mandanes and they passed roubideaux', and then there was a long stretch of lonesome country ahead of 'em till they got to brown's landing, about two hundred miles above pierre. “one day it came on to blow and snow, and they made a camp in the bluff just like we did here. that's what reminded me of the story. jacques made camp while narcisse was chopping wood. he the lonesome trail cut down a dead cottonwood and when it came down, he tripped up in the deep snow and the tree fell on him. broke his leg above the ankle. well, there he was a couple hundred miles toward nowhere in november with one leg. “pretty hard on narcisse, wasn't it? but jacques all at once began to be his old self again. set the leg as good as he could and tied it up so it would stay in place, and joked and was kind to narcisse. "seems like old times, pard,' said narcisse to jacques. 'danged if i wouldn't be glad it hap- pened if we wasn't so far from somewheres; because we mustn't let the trail fork, old pard. i knew you'd be the same again when i was hard run.' “and jacques smiled and said there never was any hard feeling, he guessed. but the peaked look didn't go away, nor the far-away look in the eyes. “when the weather cleared up, jacques said he'd leave a plenty of wood and grub for narcisse and he'd make a run for brown's landing and come back with dogs and a sled. and that made narcisse's heart warm toward jacques, because it was just like he was before the girl came between 'em. “and jacques left before sunup one morning, and when it came day narcisse went to fix him some breakfast, and there was only enough grub left for five or six days. that scared him, because it was a long trip to brown's and back, and he couldn't walk. “ but he didn't cuss jacques. he just said to him- self: 'he didn't go to take so much, and it was the scars dark when he left.' and then he just took the hand that was dealt him and began playing against a run of hard luck. the grub lasted only about a week, and close picking at that. jacques had plenty of wood chopped up, and narcisse sat all day by the fire with his leg aching and his stomach a-gnawing, a-looking down the white waste towards brown's. and night 'd come and no dog sled. then day 'd come and he'd begin looking, looking. and when the grub was all gone, he soaked up all the leather there was about him and sucked that. and then he'd begin looking, looking, looking into the white waste, till he got so's he could see dozens of dog sleds com- ing and vanishing, coming and vanishing. “but he didn't cuss jacques. he said: "the poor devil's been killed like as not; he wouldn't go back on his pard.' and one day he felt he was get- ting too weak to watch much more, and so he set a pole in the snow with a strip of blanket tied to it; and that tuckered him out so's he couldn't hardly crawl back to shelter. and with the last strength he had, he dragged the wood that was left up close to him where he could reach it, because he knew that in another day he couldn't get up. “and then he began forgetting everything 'most, and having bad dreams that scared him, all the time a-worrying about the fire like as if he was half asleep, and hearing dogs barking, and trying to get up. “and then at last he didn't know anything, till he the lonesome trail was on a dog sled with the feel of hot soup in his belly. and when he came to, he said: 'i knowed you'd come, jacques; it was hard sledding without the grub, though. “and then he found out it wasn't jacques at all; only some jesuit missionaries travelling from the north. they'd seen his signal of distress a-flying, and had come and got him. “and still narcisse didn't cuss jacques. he said: ‘poor devil's got killed or something.' "and by and by the jesuits got him to brown's landing, and he laid up there till the last of decem- ber, getting so he could walk. there wasn't anybody at brown's who had seen jacques; and narcisse's heart ached; he thought sure jacques was dead. “and when narcisse got well, he borrowed a horse from the factor at brown's and went south to pierre. it was night when he got to the post. he rode up to the cabin where he and jacques bached together, and tied his horse. there was a cheery light coming out of the windows, and that seemed odd, seeing that jacques was likely dead somewheres up the trail. and what seemed stranger, there was someone sing- ing inside, and every now and then a woman 'd laugh. god! man, did you ever hear a woman laughing when your heart had been aching for weeks? "beats the devil!'narcisse thought, 'how quick folks fill your place when you're dead!' gave him a tight feeling in the throat to think how someone was laughing inside, and jacques somewheres up trail se the lonesome trail seem to have anything to say but 'o, it's a devil of a mess! a hell of a mess!' said it over and over like he was half crazy. and narcisse said: ‘last fall i'd have killed the man who'd said this about you, jacques. it isn't the girl so much, jacques; but you and i have starved and frozen together many's the time, and we always split fair till now. it was hard sledding up there without the grub and with only one leg. you stole the cards on me this deal, jacques; but i'm not going to call for a new deal. i'll play the hand.' “ just that way narcisse said it. and with jacques muttering, ‘o, it's a devil of a mess,' they came to an air hole where the black water was gurg- ling and chuckling. “and all at once jacques flared up and snarled: why in hell didn't you die?' and slashing out with a long knife, he made a long gash in narcisse's scalp, and gave him a shove toward the hole. but he didn't go in, narcisse didn't. he's got that scar yet, but he's got a deeper one where nobody sees. “and then narcisse somehow forgot the long trails they'd tramped together and the starvings and the freezings together. couldn't think of anything but the sting of the knife and the trickle of the blood. and the white starlight swam round him like water in a suck hole, and got red like blood, and buzzed and hummed. and he was a better man than jacques -better fighter. and when the light quit swimming around and got white again and the stillness of the the scars frozen night came back, narcisse found himself sob- bing and turning his heel round and round in some- body's mouth. and it was jacques. “and what does narcisse get?" the man, after finishing his tale, took a handker- chief from his pocket, carefully placed it about his throat like a halter, threw his head to one side and simulated strangulation. we didn't tell any more stories after that. when night came we rolled up in our blankets, after having made a rousing fire. i did not sleep much that night. the man did, however. he was the coolest i ever saw. went to sleep like a child, knowing full well that he too had a noose awaiting him. when i was sure that he was sound asleep, i got up and carefully took off his bearskin cap, which he had not removed night or day since we had been together. i saw by the blue glow of the falling embers that which i had expected to see a long, ugly gash run- ning across his scalp. it was not yet quite healed. in the morning, as the storm had died in the night, we saddled up. “you take the mule and go on ahead," i said; “ i'll probably catch up with you by noon." the man obeyed. i did not expect to catch up with him, but along about noon i overtook him. “ you seem determined to travel my way," i said. he stared at me for some time, and then said the lonesome trail quietly: “ i'm not a coward just because i'm going to hang." and we rode on together. the next morning when we had saddled up, i said: “narcisse, here is one of my six-shooters and some ammunition. there is the grub. if you travel west far enough, you will come at last to the gold coun- try. ever think of going to the gold country?” the man gasped and placed his hand to his head. “ when did i have my cap off ? " said he. “you have a good mule there," continued i, evad- ing his question. “you have grub, a gun and am- munition. why don't you go west ? ” “ why are you saying that?” he said. “because," i answered, “because i have seen both scars!” a light came into his eyes. “ and you ?” he questioned. “i?" said i; “well i, while conducting a pris- oner southward, was attacked by indians. the prisoner was killed while defending me with unusual bravery. i lost all my grub, one gun, some ammuni- tion and a mule. i barely escaped with my life, and rode like the very devil to get to the next post. go!” i pointed west. the man slowly fastened the grub sack on his mule, mounted, gave me a look which i have never forgotten, and rode west. i have never seen him since. as for me, i got into the next post that evening with a worn-out horse and a tale of calamity. cuts the lonesome trail mother's breast. yet, huddled close to the group about the evening fire, she loved to listen to the warriors' tales of the strong arm and the fierce heart; and her eyes glowed with an unwonted light as her kinsmen recounted the wild swoop of the ambushed foe or the silent pursuit, swift and relentless. all the glowing ideals of manly prowess that her maiden heart had conjured, were centred in the person of the fearless brave, big axe; for had he not the eagle glance that went to the heart of an enemy like an arrow? was not his the shaggy head of the buffalo bull that strikes with fear the boldest hunter? the breath of his sinewy breast was like a whirlwind when the battle cry awakened in his throat! there was no arm in all the circled tepees that could hurl a tomahawk so straight and far; and none that could heave above the anger of the battle a war club more ponderous ! “ah,” she would say to herself, while wandering alone with her musings,“ big axe is so great a man!" when a band of warriors rode out of the village, bent upon some petty conquest somewhere beyond the blue hills that undulated the horizon with their summits, shadow flower would become very lonely, and she would stand for long hours upon some larger hill, scanning the dim sky line for the return- ing warriors; for where the battle was, there was big axe. and when at last she would catch sight of the returning band, shouting with the great joy the fading of shadow flower of a battle won, how proudly she stared, and with what a light in her eyes, at her graceful warrior astride his swift pony! how anxiously would she search the headdress of her brave for the fresh eagle feather that should speak of some late deed done by the strong arm-her strong arm! yet her timorous little soul alone knew of the great overflowing passion that she treasured for big axe; unless, perhaps, the birds and the green things understood her, for hers was a passion that little words could not carry. thus did the frail flower long for the golden kisses of the sun! there was war between the omaha and ponca tribes. so it happened one morning, in the time when the deer tear the earth with their horns, that shadow flower, hunting late blossoms upon the sere hills where the young dawn danced, heard below her the impatient stamp of ponies, and beheld the mounting of braves, for big axe was leading a party of a hundred warriors against the enemy. the purple spikes of the ironweed and the yellow plumes of the golden-rod dropped from her fingers as she gazed upon the sight below her. what a sight! it was as the marshalling of the incarnate winds from the circle of the heavens. out of the dust cloud that arose from the dry earth where four hundred nervous hoofs fretted with impatience be- neath the restraining thongs, she caught the dazzle of the sleek and vari-coloured hides of the ponies; the lonesome trail some white with the brilliance of the summer sun when it glares upon the false lakes of alkali; some spotted and wiry as the wild cat; some tawny as the mountain lion; some black like the midnight when the storm clouds fly. their gaunt flanks were heaving with the joy of speed and power. their nostrils were distent with the influx of prairie winds that know no restraining hand save that of the great invisible master. they snorted and reared as if about to plunge in a wild heat down the winds. their neighing was the shout of the tempest in the rocks, and their gusty manes were as clouds that tatter in the storm. and amid this mêlée of dust and noise and dazzle trembled the gaudy headdresses of the warriors, bright with the painted wing feathers of the eagle and the hawk. now a shout drowns the neighing and the snort- ing. a hundred braves leap to the backs of the plunging ponies. the dust cloud thickens and sweeps down the valley like a whirlwind. a far glint of brandished weapons; a dying shout; the band swoops about the base of a hill. then the sultry day drones and drowses on the prairie. the grasshopper breaks the slumber of the stillness with his snapping noise; a lone hawk skirts the ground with slow, circling flight. but shadow flower stands and stares beneath a shading hand into the brilliance where the warriors vanished. her ears hear not the snarl and hum of the drowsy bugs, nor the fading of shadow flower ink of pazhe so keen of thope unga [big area the shrill chatter of the sly gopher as it rears its striped body from the grass and peers about. she sees not the circling hawk and scarcely does the glit- ter of the yellow grass hurt her eyes. for her ears are filled with the shout that has died, and in her eyes a sinewy, masterful brave urges a black pony down the valley after a while her hand dropped from her eyes, and catching sight of the circling hawk, she cried: “o you who are so keen of eye, tell me, can you not see into the heart of muzape tunga [big axe] ? o you who are so keen of thought, tell me, does he think of pazha hu [shadow flower]?” but the hawk circled far away and the day droned on. among the hills, hidden from one who looked and saw not, the war party rode on with the noses of its ponies to that portion of the sky from which the red sun of summer springs, for in that direction lay the village of the poncas, perched upon the yellow bluffs of the great muddy river. on the evening of the second day the air grew soft with the scent of flowing waters, and the omahas, checking their ponies upon the brow of a hill, beheld to their right the swirling stream, red with the last light of the day; and before them, across a deep hollow, the village of the poncas, upon the summit of a bluff. but while their eyes wandered over the misty stretches of the river, a wild shout startled the calm the lonesome trail of the scene, while from the village on the opposite summit a line of mounted warriors issued, taking the precipitous hillside at a brisk gallop. the sudden shout and the beat of flying hoofs hurled the weary ponies of the omahas back upon their haunches. yet scarcely had the echoes of the shout cried their last among the distant bluffs, when a hundred omaha bow thongs twanged and a hun- dred arrows shrieked their shrill death-song in the quiet evening air. a second and a third fight of arrows, and the rushing poncas were thrown into confusion. those in the rear were thrown by the floundering bodies of the wounded ponies in the front, the fury of their momentum hurling them pellmell into the valley below. then the omahas swept down the valley, as the eagle sweeps, with the battle cry upon their lips, and the remnant of the attacking poncas turned and fled up the steep hill. side to their village. the village of the poncas, in addition to its strong position, was further fortified by stockades, con- structed of saplings driven into the ground with their tops sharpened. the fugitives having gained the protection of this barrier, were safe from further pursuit, and emboldened by their protection, they hurled such a flight of arrows into the ranks of the enraged omahas that the latter were obliged to withdraw beyond arrow flight, contenting themselves with taunting their besieged foes by displaying the dripping scalps of the fallen. the fading of shadow flower now the influence of the fading evening cooled the anger and hushed the shouting. from the height whither the assaulting band withdrew to camp, one could hurl the triumphant gaze unnum- bered bowshots westward, athwart the brown hills that seemed to have been stricken motionless in liquid turbulence by the enchantment of the sunset, marvellous with the pomp of streamers, violet, pur- ple, saffron, sanguine, dun! far up the river the blue haze of the sky-fringed woodland blended into the purple shadow beneath the contrasting yellow of the bluffs, that looked down into the smooth waters, upon their own scarred and wrinkled images crowned with golden crowns by the last scant sunlight. the cottonwoods placed their long shadows like soothing fingers on the muddy madness of the central stream. the night awakened in the east and stretched its long black arms into the west, and the glory vanished. the distant woodland and the bluffs grew into indis- tinguishable masses. the river became a faint film above a lower concave of dawning stars. the camp fires in the village reared long towers of light into the darkness, then fell back into a sleepy glow. one dreaming out a sunset on the prairie cannot wonder at the exquisite hyperbole of the omaha language; that tongue nurtured amid marvellous pos- sibilities of fury and calm, of beauty and terror, all within the sight-tiring circle of stupendous distance. the dawn came, and by the first light the poncas the lonesome trail beheld their enemies camped across the valley. upon one side the bluff fell sheer to the river; upon the other lingered a cruel and patient foe. so it happened that after many days, moans of suffering arose from the lodges on the bluff; and the omahas laughed in their tepees, for the sound of an enemy's wailing is sweet. the sweltering suns of the prairie september beat upon the bare summit where the village pined, and the lips of the poncas burned with thirst, while their eyes drank of the copious floods far below them. so it chanced one day, when a cry went up through the village: “ our children are dying of thirst; let us beg mercy of our enemies !” that an unarmed brave passed out of the village and across the valley toward the camp of his foes. with tottering step he approached the tepee before which big axe waited. his lips were swollen and cracked; his eyes were bleared and sunken, yet they glared as the eyes of a wolf from the darkness of a cavern. in a hoarse, inarticulate whisper he spoke to the chief: “pity my people, for they are dying of thirst !" there was lightning in the eyes of muzape tunga. “badger!” he hissed; and he struck the suppliant down before him. the sun burned down the glaring blue of the west. a continuous wail arose from the suffering village like the cry of pines in a gentle wind; while from the tepees of the besiegers came the sound of merry the fading of shadow flower laughter that mocked like the babble of inaccessible waters. but when the red sun touched the tops of the far hills, another form left the enclosure of the village and took its way down the hillside. as it came nearer, a hush of awe fell upon the omahas. the form was that of a squaw! with an unfaltering movement she approached, seeming to hover through the mist that arose from the valley. slowly she climbed the hillside. not a sound passed the lips of the beholders. they seemed the figures of one dream gazing at the central idea of another. the form emerged from the mist and stood, swathed in the chromatic radiance of the evening before the motionless figure of muzape tunga. the eyes of the woman and the chief met in unwavering stare. had the glance of the former become vocal, it would have been a song with the softness of the mother's lullaby, but with a meaning terrible as the battle cry of a brave. with a langorous movement the woman raised her arms, thus allowing the many-coloured skin that hung about her shoulders to slip to the ground, ex- posing all the dumb eloquence of her brown breasts. out of the silence her voice broke like the voice of a sudden wind that rises in the night. “nunda nu [man-heart] fears not muzape tunga!” the chief saw the lithe young form, heard the soft, caressing voice and shivered with great passion. the lonesome trail a swift smile crossed the face of the young woman, soft as a last ray of sunlight on a hill. again the voice grew out of the hush. “the heart of muzape tunga is strong like his arm and kind like his eye; he will spare my people.” . the chief's great breast heaved with the pleasure of his eye and ear. “nunda nu has the heart of a man and the eye of a woman,” he said; “ her voice is soft like the song of a forest stream; muzape tunga spares her people." nunda nu turned her face to her village and made a signal with her uplifted hands. soon an unarmed ponca, manifestly a chief by his garments, was seen taking his way down the hillside. “come!” said nunda nu, turning to big axe; “ my father bears the pipe of peace; let us meet him in the valley." without a word the chief followed the young woman, while his warriors stared after in wonder- ment. in the valley, midway between the village and the camp, the chiefs met. then both sitting cross-legged upon the grass, the ponca lit the pipe of peace, and having puffed silently for a while, handed it to his conqueror. the sweet smoke of the red willow arose slowly over the silent three, and big axe stared abstractedly into the mounting va- pour. the evening grew old. the sunlight left the summits of the hills and the shadows deepened. still big axe did not speak, but gazed with wide the fading of shadow flower eyes into the ascending cloud of smoke. the heart of the terrible warrior had grown tender; a light softer than the twilight was in his eye. it seemed that he could hear the slumberous, singing voice of a squaw and the prattle of children about the door of his lodge. there were pictures for him in the rising smoke. suddenly he took the pipe from his mouth and re- turned it to the ponca chief. “we will bury the tomahawk," he said; “our ponies shall sweat no more in the battle, but in the paths of the bison. no more shall our faces be cruel with warpaint." again there was silence but for the rhythmic puff- ing of the ponca's pipe. again muzape tunga spoke, and his voice was sonorous with passion. “the eyes of nunda nu are deep and dark as a mountain lake; her voice is a song that the slow winds 'sing in the willows. give me nunda nu that my lodge may be filled with laughter; give her to muzape tunga that peace may be everlasting be- tween us !” there was a silence. the ponca forgot his pipe; he puffed deliberately and at long intervals. the ascending smoke dwindled to a thin grey thread. with steadfast gaze the smoker looked before him into the darkness, for his thoughts were deep. at length he laid the pipe upon the grass and arose to his feet, extending his hand to big axe. his voice was tremulous as he spoke. the lonesome trail “muzape tunga asks a great thing of his con- quered brother; had he asked for a hundred ponies, with feet fleet as the winds in winter, his brother would have laughed at the little gift. nunda nu is my life; i give my life to my brother.” already the night had spread into the west and the darkness hid their parting. some days afterward at sunset, an omaha maiden stood upon a hill near her village. with hand at brow she peered into the blue distance. suddenly a cry of delight trembled on her lips. a cloud of dust had grown far away upon the verge of a hill to the northeast, slowly resolving itself into a long line of warriors approaching at a gallop. the column drew nearer. the face of the watching maiden grew darker with anxiety, as a brilliant cloud darkens when the twilight fails. she beheld the masterful form of big axe mounted upon a black pony, riding in advance of the band; yet her face darkened. her brows lowered with the strain of her intense gaze. was it a squaw that rode upon a pony white as a summer cloud beside her warrior ? a shout went up from the village below. the speed of the ponies was increased to a fast gallop; the band swept up the valley. a strange low cry fell from the lips of the maiden; a stifled cry like that of a sleeping brave who feels the knife of the treacherous foeman at his heart. in the village was the sound of many glad voices; the fading of shadow flower but in the darkness of the hill above, a frail form buried its face in the dry bunch grass and uttered a moan that no one heard. the autumn passed: the cold winds came down from the north, shaking the snow from their black wings, and the people of the village began to look upon shadow flower with awe. for never a word had she spoken to anyone since the returning of the band in the fall. with a dull light in her eyes she wandered about muttering to herself: “ it was sum- mer when they left; now the prairie is so cold and white, so cold and white." absent-mindedly she would dwell upon the bitter words, gazing beneath an arched hand into the cold, white glare of the horizon. then her eyes, at times, · would blaze with gladness. “shonga saba! shonga saba !” (a black pony) she would cry ecstatically; and for one intense moment her frail form would be erect and quivering with joy. then the light in her eye would fade as the fires fade in a camp that is deserted; a cry of anguish would fall from her lips, her hand would drop lifelessly from her brow. “no," she would sigh languidly; “no, it is only a cloud! o, the prairie is so cold and white, so cold and white!” and the old people shook their heads and whis- pered to each other: “ the soul of pazha hu has followed the summer, for her soul loved the flowers; can you not hear her body crying for her soul?” the lonesome trail when the warm winds came again and the hills were green, the crying of a young child was heard in the lodge of muzape tunga. the simplę heart of the stern warrior throbbed with gladness as a cold seed throbs with the blowing of the south wind. but the sound of the infant's voice brought no summer to the heart of nunda nu. the touch of its little brown hands stung her breasts, and as she looked upon its face, placid or expressive as its dreams took form or slept, a cold shudder ran through her veins as when one gazes on a snake, for it was the child of an enemy. all through the long winter a slow hate had sapped the kindness from the heart of the future mother; and when she felt the new life throbbing into form, her thoughts grew bitter. so now the unforgotten moaning of the children of her people, dying with thirst upon the barren summit, was loud enough to drown the prattle of her enemy's child, which should have wrought enchantment in her blood. one night a noiseless shadow passed among the tepees hushed in slumber beneath the moonlight., it crept up to the tepee of muzape tunga and crouched beside it in an attitude of listening. the bugs chirped and hummed, the frogs croaked, the wolves howled far away; save these and a sleeper's heavy breathing, there was silence. . suddenly there was a faint sound as of someone the fading of shadow flower moving in the tepee; the shadow outside arose and the moonlight fell upon its haggard face, the face of shadow flower. she placed her eye to a small opening in the skins that covered the poles. now she would gaze upon the child of muzape tungal through the opening at the top of the tepee the moonlight entered with intense brilliance and fell upon three faces. one was the face of her once sweet dream and the face that trembled through the visions of her madness, muzape tunga's. one was the beautiful, cruel face of her who came upon a pony white as a summer cloud that autumn evening when the sunlight left the prairie. one was a face that she had not seen before, yet her poor heart ached as she looked upon it. it was the face of his child, her child. ah, it should have been the child of shadow flower, she thought, and her brain reeled with sudden madness. as she looked, the woman in the tepee raised her. self upon her elbow. she gazed upon the peaceful face of big axe. the moon lit up her features in clear relief. her eyes were terrible with hate; the lids drawn closely about them until they had the small beady appearance of the snake's. her lips were drawn closely cross her white teeth in a cold grin. her form trembled as with a chill, yet the night was warm. then she arose, and with a noise- less step, sought for something that hung upon the side of the tepee. she returned clutching a toma- hawk. the light caught her whole form, making it the lonesome trail ht stand out, clear-cut like a statue, the statue of a prairie judith. then she bent over the sleeping muzape tunga 'for one moment. there was a dull sound as the weapon entered the sleeper's skull; but more than this there was no sound, no groan. and the one who stood like a shadow without the tepee was stricken dumb with fright. the woman within turned to the sleeping child and raised the dripping tomahawk; but her arm seemed to freeze in act to strike, and the blow did not fall. a strange soft light crept over the face of the woman. she lowered her arm and laid the , weapon aside. then with the step of a wild-cat she crept to the entrance of the tepee and, gazing cau- tiously about for a moment, slipped silently into the haze of the moonlight, and was engulfed in the dark- ness of the valley. as the dim outline of the fleeing squaw mixed itself with the uncertain haze and vanished, a great happiness leaped into the stagnant veins of shadow flower, and her blood rushed like a stream when the ice melts with the breath of the south wind. even the thought that big axe lay dead within the tepee did not quell her happiness, for she said to herself: “now pazha hu shall have her war. rior; he shall be all hers." she crept into the tepee and, kneeling, put her lips to the chilling lips of big axe. he did not breathe. she placed her arms about his body, her face against the fading of shadow flower his breast, yet he did not move. he lay quietly with the intense moonlight upon his face. she did not sob, she was almost happy; for did she not at last possess that for which she had pined? her musings were broken by the crying of the child. she took it in her arms and held it to her breast, humming a low lullaby, half-persuaded that the child was her own. but the child was frightened by the strange voice and cried piteously. then shadow flower thought, “ it cries for its father, yet its father has gone.” “hush!” she said to the child; “we will go and find the soul of muzape tunga; it cannot be far away." she wrapped a blanket about the infant, muffling its cries, and tied it about her shoulders. then she went silently through the village and out into the open prairie, weird with the blue haze of the moon and the lonesome cries of the wolves. a rabbit hopped past and stopped near her as if gazing at the maiden. “o rabbit!” cried shadow flower, “tell me, have you seen the soul of muzape tunga?” the rabbit, awed by the strangeness of the voice, moved its long ears; then it hopped away into the shades. the maiden followed and was swallowed in the moonlit mist. when the sun looked into the village, the women were stricken with terror and the men with anger. the wise people shook their heads by which to the lonesome trail say: " ah, yes; we thought such things of nunda nu.” the days passed; the moons came and went; yet shadow flower did not return. there was a com- mon thought concerning her disappearance which was never spoken aloud; but when the fires burned low and the night grew late, it was often whispered with awe: “she has gone in search of her soul; it iled last year with the summer.” vi m the art of hate any tales have been told of noble sacrifice for love, and i have seen such in my time; i but i have in mind an instance in which a man reached a sublime height through the least ex- alted of human passions—hate. there are some who argue that love is born at first sight. however that be, i am certain that it is often thus with hate. i have seen men in my time the first sight of whom was an insult to me—sudden, stinging like a slap on the cheek. it is a strange thing, and i have never heard it explained satisfac- torily. sometimes in my own case i have attributed it to even so slight a thing as a certain turn of the nose, a curve of the lip, a droop of the eye. and again i have felt that it was due to nothing visible about the man, but rather to some subtle emanation from the very soul of him, that maddened me as though i had inhaled the fumes of some devilish drug. have you ever felt this? well, i am telling you about zephyr recontre. he was a little, wiry half-breed, with a french father and a woman of the blackfeet tribe for a mother. quite a promising combination, if you think it over! i came across him 'way up at fort union the lonesome trail in the early ' 's, when i was in charge of a keel boat of the american fur company. he was em- ployed at the fort as interpreter, being a fuent speaker of several indian tongues as well as english and french. his forehead was a narrow strip of brown be- tween his wiry black hair and the continuous streak of black that was his eyebrows. his eyes were large and black and quiet. his cheek bones were promi- nent and his jaw was so heavy as to throw his whole face out of balance, as you might say. the face of a stayer, you know. never said much except as his duties demanded, and then he went straight to the point with a quiet directness that left little need for a question. superb little animal he was, too; had the maxi- mum strength with the minimum weight, and a cool head to run it with. i never saw him impelled by sudden anger except once, and that is where the story begins. in the spring of ' i took charge of the steam- boat yellowstone, as captain. we were loaded with supplies for the american fur company's posts on the upper missouri, and carried a number of en- gagés of the company, and a certain frenchman, jules latour, who had been appointed bour- geois of the old fort union, and was going up to take charge. if there ever was an emperor in this country it was j. j. astor, the head of the company at that time, the lonesome trail heard an angry snarl below me, and looking down, i saw recontre lift the struggling latour in his arms and hurl him into the river. i immediately stopped the boat and ordered a crew to man the yawl and rescue latour, at the same time having ręcontre seized. latour came aboard coughing and spitting, a most ludicrous object. but to my surprise, he immediately commanded that recontre should be released. i wondered much at this at the time; but ten years later i had a talk with recontre, which threw some light on the subject. he was leaving the country, and, as we had become close friends, he did not hesitate to tell me what he had kept a close secret for years. we were taking a friendly glass together at a st. louis bar, when i purposely brought up the name of jules latour, who had starved to death some years before in a mackinaw boat that got caught in the ice far up the river. i had heard stories of how re- contre, who was with latour on the trip, had shown a faithfulness to his master equalled only by the faith- fulness of a dog to a man. this had always seemed strange to me, and so i brought up jules latour. at the sound of the name i saw the black fire grow up in my companion's eyes, just as i had seen it ten years before on the forward deck of the yellow- stone. “you got that story, too, did you ?” he said dreamily, staring straight ahead of him as into a the art of hate great distance. “well, it's all over now, and for the first time, i am going to tell the truth about the death of latour and my great faithfulness. when i first saw that man, i felt as though he had struck me between the eyes with his white fist. i hated him as i had never hated before, and as i hope never to hate again. it hurts to hate; it eats into a man like some incurable blood disease. “you saw me throw him into the water. i can hardly explain why i did that; only, the man spoke to me in a way that insulted me more than if he had blackguarded my mother. it wasn't in the words, for i have forgotten what he said. “we hated each other. i knew how much i hated, but i did not know how great was his hate until he smilingly ordered my release. i knew then that his hate was a great hate-stronger than love can be. and also i knew that this hate would grow until one of us was killed. and it did.” “what!” said i; “ did you kill latour?" recontre smiled one of his enigmatic smiles and said quietly: “nature killed latour; i merely helped nature!” and then he laughed softly, while the black fire grew again in his eyes. recontre led the way to a table in the back of the room and we sat down, when he began talking rapidly, never hesitating in his story, and seeming, at times, wholly unconscious of my presence. “when we arrived at fort union," said he, “no the lonesome trail one could have guessed the hate that we nursed for each other. being a new man in the country, latour consulted me upon many phases of the busi- ness, and we were much together. the whole post considered me a most favoured person; little know- ing, as i did, that hate can bind two persons as closely as love. “my hatred for the man made his a most fas- cinating personality to me; and i often found him studying my face with a diabolical fondness. “ latour heaped favours upon me, and i received them with a strange gladness of heart that even now i cannot explain. one day in november he sent for me to come to his office. i found him in a mood seemingly most agreeable. his face beamed with a light that any other would have taken for kindness. i saw in it only the ecstatic anticipation of triumph. and when he spoke i knew that i was right. "my dear recontre,' said he, 'it seems that i am forced to fall back upon you for everything. i have a difficult task on hand, and you are the one man to perform it; i know of no other so peculiarly fitted for it. i shall carefully lay before you the dangers of the mission i have in mind, leaving you free to consent or refuse just as you see fit. perhaps the undertaking is impossible. it may be that no man is sufficiently equipped with strength and daring to do what i wish. you shall decide.' “you see he imagined that he was wheedling me through my vanity. he then stated that he wished the art of hate to open trade with the blackfeet tribe. he drew strongly upon his imagination to explain the great dangers in store for him who should undertake the task. the blackfeet were at that time deadly ene- mies of the whites. they had killed and mutilated a number of traders. i would of course stand a poor chance of coming back alive. he was convinced of that. “will you go, recontre?' said he, staring steadily into my eyes. “i was dumbfounded at the audacity of the man. i saw the light of doubt wavering in his eyes; but i did not wish to flinch before my enemy. “ certainly,' said i; - and i will go alone!' “i saw the triumph glisten in his eye. “very well,' said he; 'you may start in the morning. make your own arrangements. i give you full power to transact the business in hand as your wisdom may dictate.' “and i started in the morning. two weeks later i returned, successful beyond all hope. i not only brought back a band of the leading men of the tribe for a council, but i brought also a young woman for my wife. i called her pelagie after one of my sisters. “as i think of it now it seems miraculous that i succeeded. i am half convinced that i was inspired from out the profundity of my hate to do and say the right things. “ latour played skilfully the part of gratitude and the lonesome trail joy, but i saw, nevertheless, the deep, devilish dis- appointment that he felt. and i was very glad, for i had conquered in this first combat; and also pela- gie was a pleasant woman. “as the winter deepened, latour and i became more and more inseparable. we outdid each other in acts of seeming kindness, until all the post was jealous of my intimacy with the master. “they little guessed how we played a ghastly game that would be finished only when one of us could smirk and flatter no more. “the winter grew bitter; heavy snows fell. and i wondered much what great honour latour would heap upon me next, seeing that i was so capable and willing. near christmas latour called me to his office, and the light of anticipated triumph was upon his face. "my friend,' said he; 'i do not wish to impose upon you, but i have in mind a great service that you may render me, as a friend, mind you, re- contre. i am sure that you will succeed unless you freeze to death or get killed by the indians. none but a brave man would attempt what i shall mention. i have a very important communication to forward to the office at st. louis. it must be there before the middle of march or the company will suffer heavy losses. if you can get this there at the time stated, you shall be advanced considerably, with a raise of wages. now how would you like being my private clerk?' the art of hate “i stared into latour's eyes and saw all hell deep down in them. "give me a good dog to carry my bedding,' said i, and i will be at st. louis by the middle of march,' and then i thanked him extravagantly for this last and greatest of favours. all the time i hated the man more pitilessly than ever before be- cause of his shallowness in hoping to flatter me into getting myself frozen to death. “i started the next day with miles of frozen prairie before me. i felt a strange joy at the thought of my hardships. once again i would have the joy of seeing disappointment in the eyes of my enemy, and my soul could laugh again. i say i was glad to go, even though i was obliged to leave pelagie be- hind at a time when the post was ravaged with the smallpox. " it was a trip to make one love hell by compari- son. nothing but my hate sustained me. on march toth i delivered the written message to the official at st. louis. he read it wonderingly. "what!' said he; 'haye you walked from union to deliver this?'. “i stated that i had and he shook his head, frowned and dismissed me. i never knew what was in that message. i surmise that it was nothing of much importance. “when the first boat started up the river for the north i went with it and arrived at fort union in late june. latour was at the landing when the boat the lonesome trail pulled in. he threw his arms about my neck and actually kissed me upon the cheek. he then and there made me his private clerk with my former salary doubled. he treated me as a brother. “ but i saw in the depth of his eyes the soul-fret of a wounded beast. “when we reached his office walking arm in arm, he gently told me of the serious sickness of pelagie, and how he had looked after her like a brother through the hard winter. “i hurried to my home. i found pelagie deliri- ous with the fever of smallpox. all that night i sat beside her, my heart aching, for i felt that she would die. “and for the time i forgot my hate for latour, until, in her feverish tossing about, she threw her bare arm over the side of the bed. then i saw that which made me shiver with a desire to kill. there was a scratch on the arm, and the flesh about it was swollen and blue. it came to me that latour had caused her to be inoculated that she might die before my return, and thus make my heart sore that he might see. “i grasped the dirk and ran wildly out of the house in search of latour. i reached his door. then i faltered. it was not fear that made me falter. it was that i knew my revenge could not be completed in this way. i wanted to see him suffer more than i had ever suffered. also i wished to ' come away with clean hands. i did not know how the art of hate it could be done then, but i trusted to some mysteri- ous power that had seemed to be with me all through my terrible winter tramp. “i stole back to the bedside of pelagie. she died at dawn. “latour mourned with me. he wept and spoke touchingly of his own wife. i gritted my teeth and strained every nerve to keep from choking him. “the summer passed. latour was so kind that i often found it an effort to keep alive my belief in his treachery. and at other times, i was obliged to leave him abruptly, feeling a madness in my blood for striking him down, trampling him, tearing him with my teeth and nails. “oh, all the great actors have not appeared upon the stage! i must confess that nature and zephyr recontre killed a great actor! “the fall came, and our friendship did not abate. i began to fear that my chance would never come, and i would be obliged to kill him as one brute kills another. many nights i lay awake shaping impossi- ble schemes of revenge that were rejected in the sanity of the morning. “in the first week of october i had occasion for a great joy. latour called me to his office and stated that certain conditions of the trade which had been wholly unforeseen, made it necessary that he should be in st. louis before the winter set in. unfortu- nately, the last steamboat had left fort union for the south, making it necessary that the trip be made in ble schem many nidged to kiince would'd the lonesome trail a mackinaw boat. would i, his dearest friend, con- sent to accompany him on the trip ? “with a studied reluctance that hid my insane joy, i consented. latour left a clerk in charge of affairs, and we started. we made very slow progress, as we depended almost entirely upon the current, hay- ing no oars, and there being little wind to fill the square sail we carried. “ this was as i wished it to be. i kept longing for the ice to come down and shut us in. time and again i managed to run the boat aground on bars in order to kill time. latour seemed not to notice this. in fact, he was unusually pleasant in his bearing toward me. "we had a small hut built on the mackinaw, fitted with two bunks, and a small box stove for cooking. when we tied up to the shore for the night and turned in, i was often obliged to choke back laughter at the comedy that we played—a grim comedy. each of us would at once feign deep slumber, ever now and then opening our eyes to see how the other slept. once our eyes chanced to meet in the dim candle light of the room, for latour insisted upon the can- dle. we both grinned and rolled over. “our understanding seemed perfect; and yet, owing to the devilish refinement of our mutual hate, neither really feared any vulgar act of violence from the other. we knew that the thing would not be done in that way. “we had made about five hundred miles down the art of hate stream into the very heart of the wilderness, when the ice began running. within twenty-four hours after that, we were frozen in. a heavy snow began falling and continued for a week. it lay three feet deep upon the level, and was so light as to make it impossible to take the trail. “latour and i merrily set about to chop wood, not knowing how long we might be forced to live in the little cabin of the mackinaw. “we had brought only about half enough provi- sions for the trip, having depended upon hunting for much of our food, as there was a great deal of game in those days. the deep snow made it impossible to get much game, so that in less than two weeks our little supply of lyed corn was almost exhausted. “one morning latour said that he was sick, and remained in his bunk. at first i looked upon this with suspicion, thinking that he thus sought to throw the duties of seeking game wholly upon me, who had proved myself so capable and willing. but the next morning i knew it was no sham, for he had a high fever, and was delirious at times. you see, he had been used to luxury, and his feeble constitution had not been equal to the thorough soaking we got while chopping wood in the deep snow. “often in his delirium he linked my name with bitter curses. at last he had betrayed his hate, and i smiled, knowing that he would lose the game at last, since he no longer had the cunning to continue it. “ again it began to snow; it was a hard winter. the lonesome trail much as i might have wished to seek game for my sick enemy, i could not even seek it for myself. nature had taken a hand in the game; i began to feel her master-touch in the bitter scheme of things. she seemed determined to starve us both; but i knew that i could last longer than latour with his consti- tution weakened by too much easy life. “so i blessed the snow as it deepened. latour would die before my eyes; and then afterward i too would die, the winner of the game.' it would be a most sublime revenge, it seemed to me; for i think i was hardly sane when i was near jules latour. it would be like samson crushing his enemies and him- self together. no one could blame me, should our bodies be found. i would have had my reyenge and still none could blame me. “there was a small quantity of lyed corn left. i ate sparingly of this, carefully saving latour's share for him when he should wish to eat. “one morning he awoke from his delirium; he asked for food. "'i have saved your share for you,' said i. 'i might have eaten it, for i think we shall starve to death in a week or so. the snow is too deep and soft for hunting. still i have divided fair with you, remembering your great kindness to pelagie, remem- bering your great kindness in allowing me to distin- guish myself among the blackfeet, remembering your generosity in allowing me to take your message to st. louis. do you remember?'. the art of hatÉ “he groaned, and his eyes became cold and sav- age, like a starved wolf's. “i gave him his lyed corn and he ate. his de- lirium returned. he cursed recontre bitterly. he clenched his feverish, white hands about the imagi- nary neck of zephyr recontre; and i smiled. “in two days more all the lyed corn had been eaten. in the meanwhile the surface of the snow had hardened with the intense cold. i could have hunted, for i was not yet too weak, and there was a gun and plenty of ammunition. but i did not go hunting. i saw latour weakening rapidly. he might die dur- ing my absence, and i would thus lose the sweetness of my revenge. it seemed to me that this would be like selling my birthright for a mess of pottage. “i could have taken the gun and gone south over the snow to fort pierre, several hundred miles down the river. but i did not go. latour had not died yet. after he died, if i could still walk, i might go. “all day i sat beside the little box stove, gazing upon latour. at night i slept lightly, awakening often to see how fever and hunger dealt with latour. he might die while i slept. “one day in december, i cannot remember just when, for i myself was often delirious with hunger, latour again awakened from delirium. "'food, food!' he gasped. 'for god's sake, recontre, don't let a man starve like this! let's make it up between us; only give me something to ous en c d ne sa eat!' the art of hate coming over the frozen snow from the direction of fort pierre. i remember hearing them call my name as with the voices of a dream. i remember that i cried out, ‘latour has just died!' and then i re- member laughing and crying, not knowing why i did. "i remember that these men gave me food—warm food—and that after a long sleep i awoke and saw a jesuit missionary kneeling at my bedside. " it was then that i tasted the full sweetness of my triumph. the priest was blessing me! he spoke of the christlike kindness of zephyr recontre, who had not deserted his sick master. "i did not see latour again. the jesuit's party had chopped a hole in the ice and had given his body to the river." vii the singer of the ache the old omaha speaks ow this is the story of one who walked not with his people, but with a dream. to you i tell it, О white brother, yet is it not for you, unless you also have followed the long trail of hunger and thirst—the trail that leads to no lodge upon the high places or the low places, by flowing streams or where the sand wastes lie. it shall be as the talking of a strange tribe to you, unless you also have peered down the endless trail, with eyes that ached and dried up as dust, and felt your pony growing leaner and shadow-thin beneath you as you rode, until at last you sat upon a quiet heap of bones and peered and peered ahead. moon-walker was he called—he who walked for the moon. but that was after he had called his pony from the grazing places and mounted for the long ride. yet was there a time when he ran about among the lodges laughing very merrily with many boys and girls, who played with hoop and spear, made little bloodless wars upon unseen peoples, and played in little ways the big, sad games of men. and then ΙΙΟ the singer of the ache iii iii he was called by many names, and all of the names, though different, meant that he was happy. but once his mother and his father saw how that a man began to look out of his eyes, began to hear a man talking in his throat; and so they said: “it is the time for him to dream." so they sent him at nightfall to the hill of dreams —as is the custom of our people. wahoo! the bitter hill of dreams! many have i seen go up there laughing, but always they came down with halting feet and with sadness in their faces. and among these many, lo! even i who speak —therefore should my words be heard. and he of the many names went up into the hill of dreams and dreamed. and in through the mists that strange winds blow over the hills of sleep burst a white light, as though the moon had grown so big that all the sky was filled from rim to rim, leav- ing no place for sun and stars. and upon the sur- face of the white light floated a face, an awful face -whiter than the light upon which it floated; and so beautiful to see that he of the many happy names ached through all his limbs, and cried out and woke. then leaping to his feet, he gazed about, and all the stars had grown so small that he looked thrice and hard before he saw them; and the world was shrunken. and frightened at the strangeness of all things, he fled down the hillside into the village. his mother and his father he wakened with bitter crying. v i i the lonesome trail “how came the dream ? " they whispered; for upon the face of him who went up a boy they saw that which only many years should bring; and in his eyes there was a strange light. “a face! a face!” he whispered. “i saw the face of the woman of the moon! whiter than snow, it was, and over it a pale flame went! oh, never have i seen so fair a face; and there was some- thing hidden in it swift as lightning; something that would be thunder if it spoke; and also there was something kind as rain that falls upon a place of aching heat. into the north it looked, high up to where the lonesone star hangs patient. " and there was a dazzle of white breasts beneath, half-hidden in a thin blanket of mist. and on her head, big drifts of yellow hair; not hanging loose as does your hair, o mother, but heaped like clouds that burn above the sunset. my breast aches for something i cannot name. and now i think that i can never play again!" and there was a shaking of heads in that lodge, and a wondering, for this was not good. not so had others, big in deeds, dreamed upon the hill in former times. always there had been a coming of bird, or beast, or reptile, wrapped in the mystery of strange words; or there had been the cries of fighting men, riding upon a hissing of hot breaths; or there had been a stamping of ponies, or the thin, mad song of arrows. but here it was not so, and the mother said: the singer of the ache “many times the false dreams come at first, and then at last the true one comes. may it not be so with him?" and the father said: “ it may be so with him." so once again up the hill of dreams went the boy. and because of the words of his father and mother, he wept and smeared his face with dust; his muddy hands he lifted to the stars. and he raised an ear- nest voice: “o wakunda! send me a man's dream, for i wish to be a big man in my village, strong to fight and hunt. the woman's face is good to see, but i cannot laugh for the memory of it. and there is an aching in my breast. o wakundal send me the dream of a man!” and he slept. and in the middle of the night, when shapeless things come up out of the hills, and beasts and birds talk together with the tongues of men, his dream came back. even as before the moon-face floated in a lake of cold white fire-a lake that drowned the stars. and as he reached to push it from him, lo! like a white stem growing downward from a flower, a body grew beneath it! and there was a flashing of white light- ning, and the woman of the moon stood before him. then was there a burning in the blood of the boy, as she stooped with arms held wide; and he was wrapped about as with a white fire, through which the face grew down with lips that burned his lips the lonesome trail as they touched, and sent pale lightnings flashing through him. and as the dream woman turned to run swiftly back up the star-trails he who dreamed reached out his arms and clutched at the garments of light that he might hold the thing that aed, for dearer than life it seemed to him now. and he woke. his face was in the dust. his clutching hands were full of dust. wahoo! the bitter hill of dreams! have you climbed it, О white brother, even as i ? and in the morning he told the dream to his father, who frowned; to his mother-and she wept. and they said: “this is not a warrior's dream, nor is it the dream of a holy man; nor yet is it the vision of a mighty bison hunter. some strange new trail this boy shall follow—a cloudy, cloudy trail! yet let him go a third time to the hill—may not the true dream linger?". and the boy went up again; his step was light; his heart sang wildly in his breast. for once again he wished to see the woman of the moon. but no dream came. and in the morning the pinch of grief was upon his face and he shook his fists at the laughing day. then did he and a great ache walk down the hill together. all things were little and nothing good to see. and in among his people he went, staring with eyes that burned as with a fever, and lo! he was a stranger walking there! only the dream walked with him. the singer of the ache and the sunlight burned the blue, much-beaded tepee of the sky, and left it black; and as it burned and blackened, burned and blackened, he who dreamed the strange dream found no pleasure in the ways of men. only in gazing upon the round moon did he find pleasure. and when even this was hidden from him for many nights and days he went about with drooping head, and an ache was in his eyes. and in these days he made wild songs; for never do the happy ones make songs—they only sing them. songs that none had heard he made. not such as toilers make to shout about the camp fires when the meat goes round. yet was the thick, hot dust of weary trails blown through them, and cries of dying warriors, and shrieks of widowed women, and whim- pering of sick zhinga zhingas; and also there was in them the pang of big man-hearts, the ache of toiling women's backs, the hunger, the thirst, the wish to live, the fear to die! so the people said: “who is this nu zhinga who sings of trails he never followed, of battles he never fought? no father is he—and yet he sings as one who has lost a son! of the pain of love he sings —yet never has he looked upon a girl!” and it was the way of the boy to answer: "i seek what i do not find, and so i sing !" and the nights and days made summers and win- ters, and thus it was with the singer of the ache. he grew tall even to the height of a man—yet was the lonesome trail he no man. for little did he care to hunt, and the love of battles was not his. nor his the laughter of the feast fires. nor did he look upon the face of any maiden with soft eyes. and the father and mother, who felt the first frosts upon their heads, said: “our son is now a man; should he not build a lodge and fill it with a woman? should we not hear the laughter of zhinga zhingas once again before we take the black trail together?” and because his father had many ponies, many maidens were brought before him for his choosing. but he looked coldly upon them and he said: “the stars are my sisters and my brothers, and the moon is my wife, giving me songs for children. soon shall there be a long trail for me.” thereat a cry went up against him and more and more he walked a stranger. only the dream walked with him; and he sang the songs that ache. harsh words the father spoke: “does the tribe need songs? can hungry people eat a silly shout, or will enemies be conquered with a singing ?" but the mother wept and said: “say not so of him. do not his songs bring tears, so strange and sweet they are at times? does a man quarrel with the vessel from which he drinks sweet waters, even if it be broken and useless for the cooking ?” and the father frowned and said: “give me many laughers, and i will conquer all the enemies and fill all the kettles of the feasts! let the weepers the singer of the ache tt and makers of tears drag wood with the women. always have i been a fighter of battles and a killer of bison. this is not my son!”. and it happened one night that the singer stood alone in the midst of his people, when the round moon raised a shining forehead out of the dark, and grew big and flooded all the hills with white light. and the singer raised his arms to it and sang as one who loves might sing to a maiden coming forth flashing with many beads from her tepee. and the people laughed and a mutter ran about: “to whom does the fool sing thus?” soft, shining eyes he turned upon them, and he said: “even to the woman of the moon! see where she looks into the north with white face raised to where the lonesome star hangs patient!" and the people said: “this is the talk of a fool -no woman do we see!” and then the singer sang a new song through which these words ran often: “only he sees who can-only he sees who can!”. so now he walked a fool among his people, sing- ing the songs that ache. wahoo! bitter it is to be a fool! and yet, o white brother, only they who have been fools are wise at last! and it happened one summer that the village was builded in the flat lands by the big smoky water. and there came snoring up the stream a monda geeung, the magic fire-boat of the palefaces. up to the singer of the ache sliit their meanings await me. there shall i ride-there shall i ride ! ” and the fires of the day burned out the stars and died; downward and inward rushed the black, black ashes of the night. and still he rode toward the north. and like the flashing of a midnight torch through a hole in a tepee flashed the days and passed. and still he rode. through many villages of strange peoples did he ride, and everywhere strange tongues and strange eyes questioned him; and he answered: “into the north i ride to find the woman of the moon!” and the people pitied him, because he seemed as one whose head was filled with ghostly things; and they fed him. further and further into the waste places he pushed, making the empty spaces sweet and sad with his singing; and the winter came. thin and lean he grew, and his pony grew lean and thin. and the white, mad spirits of the snow beat about the two. and now and then snow ghosts writhed up out of the ground and twisted and twirled and moaned, until they took on the shape of her he sought. and ever he followed them; and ever they fell back into the ground. and the world was bitter cold. wahoo! the snow ghosts that we follow, o white brother! and the time came when the pony was no longer the lonesome trail a pony, but a quiet heap of bones; and upon this sat the man who walked for the moon. then did the strength go out of him, and he turned his sharp face to the south. he sang no more for many days, for his body was as a lodge in which a fair woman lies dead with no mourners around. and at last he wakened in a strange lodge in a village of strangers. and it happened when the green things pushed upward into the sun again that a young man who seemed very old, for he was bent, his face was thin, his eyes were very big, hobbled back into the village of his people. and he went to a lodge which was empty, for the father with his frowning and the mother with her weeping had taken the long trail, upon which comes no moon and never the sun rises—but the stars are there. many days he lay within the lonesome lodge. and it happened that a maiden, one whom he had pushed aside in other days, came into the lodge with meat and water. so at last he said: “i have sought and have not found; therefore will i be as other men. i will fill this lodge with a woman—and this is she. hence- forth i shall forget the dream that led me; i shall be a hunter of bison and a killer of enemies; for after all, what else ? " the singer of the ache i and this he did. so all the village buzzed with kindly words. “the fool has come back wise!” they said. and as the seasons passed there grew the laughter of zhinga zhingas in the lodge of the man who walked no more for the moon. but a sadness was upon his face. and after a while the dream came back and brought the singing. less and less he looked upon the woman and the children. less and less he sought the bison, until at last hunger came into that lodge and sat beside the fire. then again the old cry of the people grew up: “the fool still lives! he sings while his lodge is empty. his woman has become a stranger to him, and his children are as though a stranger had fathered them! shall the fool eat and only sing?" and a snarling cry grew up: “cast out the fool! ” and it was done. so out of the village stumbled the singing fool, and his head was bloody with the stones the people threw. very old he seemed, though his years were not many. into the north he went, and men saw his face no more. but lo! many seasons passed and yet he lived and was among all peoples ! for often on hot dusty trails weary men sat down to sing his songs; and women, weeping over fallen braves, found his songs the lonesome trail upon their lips. and when the hunger came his strange wild cries went among the people. and all were comforted! and this, o white brother, is the story of the fool who walked for the moon! viii the white wakunda e was the son of sky-walker's oldest squaw and he was born in the time when the lone goose flies (february). it was a very bitter winter, so that many years after the old men spoke of it as “the winter of the big snows." sky-walker, his father, was a seer of great visions, and he had a power that was more than the power of strong arms. he was a thunder man, and he could make rain. and when sky-walker's oldest squaw bore a son there was much wonder in the village, for she was far past her summer and the frost had already fallen on her hair. also, she was lean and wrinkled. so the old men and women came to the lodge of sky-walker and looked upon the newborn child. they looked and they shook their heads, for the child was not as a child should be. he was no bigger than a baby coyote littered in a terrible winter after a summer of famine. he was not fat. “ he can never be a waschuscha [brave]," said one old man; “i have seen many zhinga zhingas [babies] who grew strong, but they were not like this one. he will carry wood and water.” and sky-walker's old squaw arose from the blan- the white wakunda “and see, it is a boy, even as she dreamed. also he has come in the time when the lone goose flies. i see much in this. he shall be alone, but high in loneliness, and he shall go far, far! look where he gazes upon you with man-eyes! are they the eyes of a zhinga zhinga?”. the old folks looked and pitied no more, for the eyes were not as other eyes. they had a strange light, making the old ones wonder. so the word passed around and around the circle of lodges that sky-walker's oldest squaw had a son who was not a common zhinga zhinga. and as the talk grew, the name of the child grew with it. so he was called wa-choo-bay, “the holy one." and as wa-choo-bay grew, so grew the wonder of the people, for he never cried, and he talked soon. also from the first he appeared as one over whom many winters had passed. when he reached that age when he should have played with the other boys, he did not play, but was much alone upon the prairie without the village. he never took part in the game of pawnee zhay-day, the game of spear and hoop, which made the other boys laugh and shout. one evening in his fifth year, his father, sky- walker, said to him: “it is the time for the coming of the dreams to wa-choo-bay. let him go afar into a lonesome place without food and lift his hands and his voice the lonesome trail to wakunda. four sleeps let him stay in the lone- some place, that his dream may come.” so his mother smeared his forehead with mud and muttered to the spirits: “ thus shall you know wa-choo-bay, who goes forth to have his first dream. send him a good dream." and wa-choo-bay went forth into a lonesome place without food. and on the morning of the fifth day, when the squaws were making fires, he returned, and as he entered the village and went to the lodge of his father the squaws gazed upon his face, seeing that which was very strange. they wakened the sleepers in the lodges, say- ing: “wa-choo-bay is come back with a strange medi- cine-look upon his face! he has had a great dream; come and see.” and the village awoke and crowded about the lodge of sky-walker, who came forth and said: “go away! something great has happened to my nu-zhinga [boy], and he is about to tell me his dream." and the people went away, awed and silent. in the stillness of his lodge sky-walker gazed upon the boy's face and said: “ what has wa-choo-bay seen?" and wa-choo-bay said: “i went far into a lonesome place; there was the white wakunda and the two neighbouring tribes had taken the peace trail and come to the omaha village. then there was much painting in the colours of peace, and the village that the three tribes made was more than one could see with a look. in a great circle it lay in the flat lands of ne shoda, with an opening to the place of morning. and in the centre there was built a large semicircu- lar shade of willow boughs, in which the braves would dance and sing, giving away presents of ponies, furs, hides, and trinkets that please the eye. one day there was a great dancing and a great giving away. many ponies had been led into the sunny centre of the semicircular shade, and given away to those whom the criers called. and wa-choo-bay was there, standing tall and thin, alone amid all the revellers, for more and more as the sunlights passed he thought deep thoughts. among the poncas sat a young squaw who was good to see, for she was slender and taller than a common brave. and upon her forehead was the tattooed sunspot that marked her for the daughter of the owner of many ponies. she was called umba (sunlight), and she was the best to see of all the daughters of the assembled tribes. to-day she sat amid the revelling and saw none of it. she saw only the tall youth, standing alone like a beech tree among a cluster of scrub oaks. and her eyes grew soft as she looked. and when the centre of the place of shade had the lonesome trail cleared, she arose and walked into the centre. there she stood, a stately figure, with soft eyes fixed upon wa-choo-bay. at length she raised her arms toward him and sang a low, droning song, like that a mother sings to her child in the evening when the fires burn blue. and all the people listened, breathless, for she was fair, and the song, which was a song of love, was sung to wa-choo-bay alone, standing thin and tall and deep in thought. then when her song had ceased, she took off her blanket of dyed buckskin, and, holding it at arm's length toward wa-choo-bay, she said: “i give my blanket to the tall and lonesome one. let him come and take it, and i shall follow him on all his trails, even if they be hard trails that lead to death!” and wa-choo-bay raised his eyes and gazed with a sad look upon the ponca woman. his voice came strong, but soft: "i cannot take the blanket; neither shall i ever take a squaw. for i am a dreamer of dreams. i shall never hear zhinga zhingas laughing about my lodge. i am going on a long trail, for i follow a dream. yet have i never seen a woman so good to see. there is an ache in my breast as i speak. let this woman follow one who kills enemies and hunts bison. i dream dreams, and a long trail is before me, and its end is in the mist." the white wakunda then umba moaned and walked out of the circle with her head bowed. and sky-walker, seeing this, said: “ it is even as i said. he was born in the time of the lone goose. he shall be alone, but high in loneliness; and he shall go far, far." and the time came when the tribes took the home- ward trail. then one day wa-choo-bay raised his voice among the people and said: “my time is come to go. i take a long, lonesome trail, for a dream dreamed many times is lead- ing me.” then he went down to the great river where a canoe lay, and the people followed. they said no word as he pushed the canoe into the current and shot downstream, for a white light was upon his face, and the dream rode with him. then sky-walker and his old squaw climbed a high bluff and watched the speck that was wa-choo- bay fading in the mist of distance. “this is the last i shall see," said the old woman, “for i am old and the winter is in my hair. but great things will happen when i am gone." and under the shade of a lean hand raised brow- ward she saw the black speck vanish in the blue of distance. summers and winters passed. sky-walker and his old squaw died; the name of wa-choo-bay be- came a dim and mystic thing. yet often about the the lonesome trail fires of winter, when the wind moaned about the lodges, the old men talked of the going away of the holy one, making the eyes of the youths grow big with wonder. and often the old men and women gazed from the high bluff down the dim stretches of the muddy river, wondering when wa-choo-bay would come back, for it was said that great things would happen at his coming. it happened many years after the going away of wa-choo-bay that the omaha tribe had its village in the valley on a creek near the big muddy water. it was the time when the sunflowers made sun- light in the valleys and when the women were busy pulling weeds from the gardens. one evening a band of youths, who had been play- ing on the bluffs overlooking the far reaches of the river, came with breathless speed and terror-stricken faces into the village. “monda geeung [devil boat] !” they cried, pointing to the river. “a big canoe breathing out smoke and fire is swimming up ne shoda.” the whole village scrambled up the bluffs, and what they saw was not forgotten for many moons. it was a boat, but it was not as other boats. it breathed smoke and fire. it grunted and puffed like a swimmer in a heavy current. it had a great arm that reached before it. also it had two noses, where the smoke and fire came out. it had eyes along its side that sparklęd in the the white wakunda evening sunlight. there was none to paddle it, yet it moved steadily against the current. the people stood bunched closely together and shivering with fear as the monster approached. with a chugging and a swishing and a coughing, it swam, turning its head towards the bluff where the people watched and reaching out its one big arm toward them. “it sees us! it wishes to eat us!” cried the people, and like a herd of frightened bison they ran and tumbled down the bluff. they hid in their lodges with their weapons grasped in their hands. they made no noise, lest the monster should find them. but the devil-swimmer did not come. the people listened. at length the sound of the mighty breath- ing stopped, then it began again and grew dimmer and dimmer until it died away far up the stream. and when the people came forth cautiously from their hiding, a man, tall, thin, with a strange look upon his bronze face, stood in the centre of the village. awed by the mien of the stranger, the people stared in silence. the sun had fallen and the shadows of the evening were about him. also he wore garments that were not as wakunda meant garments should be. the stranger cast a long gaze about him, then raised his arms and said in a voice that was strong but soft: the lonesome trail “i breathe peace upon my people.” the words were omaha words, yet they sounded strange. again the voice was raised in the shadows and passed like a wind among the people, shaking them. “i am wa-choo-bay—he who followed the long dream-trail—and i am come back with a great wisdom for the tribes." but the people only trembled, and the old men whispered: “ it is not wa-choo-bay, but his spirit. well is the face remembered, but the words are not man- words." then the stranger passed about the circle of the wondering people, touching them as he went, for he had heard the whispering of the old men. and the people shrank from him. “i am wa-choo-bay,” cried the stranger again. “i am the son of sky-walker. i am a man, and not a spirit. give me meat, for i am hungry.” and they gave him meat, and he ate. then only did the people know him for a man. in the days that followed, wa-choo-bay told many strange things of the white-faced race whose camp fires were kindled ever nearer and nearer the people of the prairie. also he said words that were not common words. they were medicine-words.. and before many moons had grown and died these things travelled far and wide across the prairie, until in many tribes the wonder grew. around many w nearer the white wakunda camp fires was told the tale of how an omaha had come back after being many years in the lands that lay toward the place of summer; also of the devil- boat in which he came, and of the new wisdom he was talking. so there was a great moving of the tribes toward the village of the omahas. the poncas, the paw- nees, the osages, the missouris, the otoes—all heard the strange tale and took the trail that led to the village lying in the flat lands of ne shoda. and in the time when the prairie was brown there was a great gathering of the prairie peoples in the flat lands. the cluster of villages that they made was so broad that a strong man walked from morning until the sun was high before he reached the other side. then one morning when the tribes had gathered wa-choo-bay went to the top of a bluff that stood bleak against the sky, and the people followed, sitting below him upon the hillside, for they wished to hear the strange words that would be spoken that day. wa-choo-bay, standing thin and tall against the sky, raised his arms and his face to the heavens, breathing strange words above the people, upon whom a great hush fell. and it happened that in the hush a tamed wolf among the people near the summit of the bluff raised its snout and mourned into the sudden stillness. and its master beat it for the noise it made until it cried with pain. the lonesome trail then a strange thing happened. wa-choo-bay walked in among the gazers and laid caressing hands upon the wolf, calling it by gentle names until it licked his hands. and when he returned to the summit, the wolf fol- lowed, licking the feet of wa-choo-bay as it went. then wa-choo-bay raised his voice, and it went even to the farthest listener, though it seemed a soft voice. “this is the first i shall teach you: be kind to everything that lives." and the people wondered much. this was a new teaching. in the hush of awe that fell, wa-choo-bay spoke again, while the wolf sat by him, licking his feet. he told of his being in the lands that lay toward the summer; of the great white-faced race that lived there; of the great villages that they built, having lodges bigger than half a prairie village. he told of the strength of this great white-faced race; of how they were moving steadily toward the people of the prairie. and then he told in quaint phrases the story of christ and his teachings of kindness. “these things i learned from the great medicine- men of the white-faced race, and they are wise men,” said wa-choo-bay. “it is this that has made their people great. so i have come to say: have no more fighting on the prairie; be one great tribe, even like the white-faces; build great villages like the white wakunda them, for i have learned that only they who build great villages and do not wander shall live. the others must flee like the bison when hunters follow. “and i will teach you the wise words of the great white wakunda's son, who died because he loved all the tribes. it is a teaching of peace-a teaching that we be kind to our enemies." then there arose one among the osages, an old man, and he said: “these are big words. let wa-choo-bay call down rain upon us if this big white god loves him.” then arose one among the pawnees, and he cried in broken omaha : “i say with my osage brother, let wa-choo-bay do some medicine-deed, that we may know him for a holy one." and still another among the poncas arose and said: “if this be true that we have heard, how: wa- choo-bay came back in a holy boat, and that his big white wakunda is so strong and loves wa-choo-bay, let him send the rain, and we will fall upon our faces." then the whole concourse of tribes sent up a shout: “give us some medicine-deed!" and when the shout had died, wa-choo-bay smiled a smile of pity and said: “i am not the big white wakunda; i am only one who talks for him and loves him, for i have the white wakunda and wa-choo-bay said: “i have not forgotten.” then said umba, the ponca woman: "even now it is the same as then. i have come to take the hard trail with you, even the trail that leads to death, for in all these winters and summers i have taken no man." and she wiped the blood from his face with her blanket of buckskin. there was an aching in the breast of wa-choo-bay as he said these words, which the ponca woman could not understand, though her tongue was one with his: “from now through all the summers and winters that follow, your name shall be mary.” “have you heard my words ?” he said after a long silence. “i have heard,” said the woman, " and i believe. i alone among all the villagers believe." “then shall you follow me on my lonesome trail. i see not its end, for it is in the mist." s c was on the days when the prairie was brown passed, and the snows came. and there was one who followed a bitter winter trail. from village to village he went, speaking words of kindness and doing good deeds. but everywhere he was driven from the villages. and there were two who followed him—two faithful disciples—the woman, whose name was changed to mary, and the wolf. the lonesome trail. an and ever the tall thin man, whose face was pinched with hunger and the cold, gave kind words to those who offered blows. it happened in the time of hunga-mubli—the time when the snows drift against the north sides of the lodges, that a rumour ran across the prairie-a rumour that a strange sickness had come to the vil- lage of the poncas. it was the sickness called gcha- tunga, the sickness of the big, red sores. then wa-choo-bay and his two disciples turned weary feet toward the stricken village of the poncas. it was a hard trail, with little food and much cold. and when the three entered the stricken village there was a rejoicing among the poncas, for they said: “might it not be that this one whom we have spurned is stronger than we thought?” but wa-choo-bay sang no medicine-songs; he per- formed no mystic rites. with tender hands he nursed the sick. also he knelt beside them and said soft words that were not the words of the prairie. and it happened that the invisible arrows of the terror fell thicker and thicker among the poncas. the sickness spread, and the village was filled with the delirious shrieks of the dying. so a great, angry wail went up against wa-choo- bay. “the sickness grows greater, not less," said those who were still strong. “this wa-choo-bay's words are not true words. there is a black spirit in him.” the white wakunda so it happened that arms that were still strong seized wa-choo-bay and bound him with thongs of buckskin. then he was led afar from the village to the bleak, cold summit of a hill. there they planted a post and bound wa-choo- bay to it. and the woman, whose name was changed to mary, begged for him, and the wolf, with its four feet huddled together in the snow, mourned with an upward thrusting of the snout. but wa-choo-bay said: “do not wail for me. this is the place where my trail ends. this is what was in the mist. let these whom i love do as they will do.” and when they had bound him to the post they whipped him with elkhorn whips. “where is your white wakunda ?” they cried, and it was a hate cry. “here beside us stands the white wakunda and his son!” said wa-choo-bay; and his brow was wet with the sweat of agony. but the whippers did not see, and the whips fell harder. and after some time wa-choo-bay raised his head weakly to the darkening heavens, for the sun had fallen, and moaned soft words that were not prairie words. then his head fell forward upon his breast. the whips fell no more. the whippers departed. the sky was like a sheet of frosty metal and the stars were like broken ice. the lonesome trail against the sky hung the thin figure of wa-choo- bay lashed to the post, and beneath him in the shadow huddled two who sent trembling cries of sorrow into the empty spaces of the snow—a woman and a wolf. ix the triumph of seha then seha had grown to be a tall youth, he said to the old men: “now i am almost a man; what shall i do?” for being a youth, he dreamed of great things. and the old men answered: “that wakunda knows; there- fore, take yourself to a high hill; there fast and pray until sleep comes, and with it a vision.” so seha arose and laid aside his garments, and naked, went out on the prairie. when he had gone far, he climbed to the top of a lonely hill, bare of grass and strewn with flakes of stone that made its summit white like the head of a man who has seen many winters. then he knelt upon the flinty summit, and raising his palms to the heavens, he cried: “o wakunda, here needy stands seha!” four times he uttered the cry, yet there was no sound save that of the crow overhead, and the wind in the short grass of the hill- side. then he fell into an agony of weeping, and wet- ting his palms with his tears, he rubbed them in the white dust and smeared his face with mud. then he cast his wet eyes to the heavens, and again raised his hands in supplication. the lonesome trail "o wakunda, seha is a young man; he would do great things like the old men; send him a vision ! " the night came down and still he held his eyes upon the darkening heavens, crying for a vision. but only the coyote answered him. the stars looked out of the east and steadily climbed upward, gazing upon his tearful face. but when the grey of age began to grow upon the forehead of the night, he grew so weary that he fell forward upon his face and slept. and lo! the vision came! it seemed that the skies were black and fierce as the face of a brave in anger. the lightning glared; and the thunder shouted like a warrior in the front of the battle! then the cloud split, and through it rushed a mighty eagle with the lightning playing on and its eyes were bright with the vision that sees far. its wings hovered over seha, and it spoke: “ seha shall be a seer of things far off. his thought shall be quick as the lightning, and his voice shall be as thunder in the ears of men !" seha awoke, and he was shivering with the dews of morning. then he arose and walked back toward his village, slowly, for his thoughts were great. four days he went about the village, speaking to no one; and the people whispered: “seha has had a vision; do you not see that his eyes are big with a strange light?” one night after the four days had passed, seha the triumph of seha arose from his blankets and, creeping stealthily out of his tepee, he went to the lodge of ebahamba, who was a great medicine-man, for seha wished to tell his vision into a wise ear. pulling back the buffalo robe that hung across the entrance he saw the great man sleeping in the moon- light that fell through the opening at the top of the tepee. entering, he touched the shoulder of the sleeper, who awoke with a start, and, sitting up, stared at the young intruder. then ebahamba being thoroughly awakened, spoke: “seha has come to tell his vision; i knew he would come; speak.” “you are a great man," began seha," and your eyes are like the sun's eyes to see into the shadow. hear me and teach me." then he told of his vision on the lonely hill. as ebahamba listened to the wonderful thing that had befallen the youth, his heart grew cold with envy; for certainly great things were in store for seha, and might it not come to pass that the youth should grow even greater in power than ebahamba himself? so, when the youth had ceased, breathless with the wonder of the thing he told, the old man said coldly: “wakunda will teach seha; let him go learn of the wind and the growing things!” then the youth arose and left the lodge. but the big medicine-man slept no more that night, for jeal- ousy is sleepless. the lonesome trail at that time it happened that the winds were hot from the southwest, and the maize grew yellow as the sun that smote it, and the rainless air curled its blades. and the old man ebahamba cried to wa- kunda for rain; but the skies only glared back for answer. then a great moan went up before the lodge of the big medicine-man, ebahamba. “ ebahamba speaks with the spirits; let him pray to the thunder spirits that we may have food for our squaws and our children!” and ebahamba shut himself in his tepee four days, fasting, crying to the thunder spirits, and per- forming strange rites. but every morning the sun arose glaring like the eye of a man who dies of fever, and the hot wind sweltered up from the southwest, moaning hoarsely like one who moans with thirst; and the maize heard the moan and wilted. then when the people grew clamorous before the lodge of ebahamba, he came forth and said: “the thunder spirits are sleeping; they are weary and drowsy with the heat." and the hooting of his people drove him back into his lodge. then seha raised his voice above the despairing murmur of the village, saying: “ seha is a young man, yet the thunder spirits will hear him, be they . ever so drowsy, for seha has had a vision. seha will call the rain." the murmur of the people ceased, for so strange the triumph of seha when a youth had succeeded? ebahamba sat sul- lenly in his tepee, thinking great and fierce thoughts; and after many days of fasting, his magic came back to him. then he summoned to his lodge one by one, the men of his band, and he said to each: “behold! seha speaks with evil spirits. may he not destroy his people? then let us perform the rite of waz- hinadee against him that he may be forsaken by man and beast and so die!” the men of his band believed ebahamba, for his magic was very great now, and he forced them to believe. so each man went to his tepee, shut himself in, feasted and thought sternly against seha. for this is the manner of the rite of wazhinadee. then after his enemies had thought strongly for many days against him, seha was seized with a strange weakness. his eyes lost their brightness, and he could not see far as before. all through the days and the nights he went about the village, crying for his lost power; and the people said: “the coy- otes are barking in the hills.” they could not see him for the mist that the terrible rite had cast about him. then seha wandered out on the prairie, wailing as ever for his lost power. and after many days, he laid himself down by a stream to die. but he did not die. he slept; and the vision came again. when he awoke, he was strong again and his eyes could see far as before. then he said: “i will cleanse myself in the the lonesome trail stream and go back to my people, for i am strong again.” but lo! as he leaned over the clear stream, he be- held the reflected image of an eagle far above him. now a medicine man can change himself at will into anything that walks or crawls or alies or is still; and as seha watched the eagle, he knew that it was ebahambal so gliding into the stream, he quickly changed himself into a great fish floundering temptingly upon the surface. the eagle, which was ebahamba, being hungry, swooped down upon the fish with wide beak and open talons. in a moment, seha changed himself into a huge vooping bird dashed furiously, crushing its beak and talons. then it arose, and with bloody wings, fluttered across the prairie. seha stepped out of his rock and laughed a loud, long laugh, and the eagle, which was ebahamba, heard and knew. so seha returned to his village and was a great man among his people. but ebahamba hid himself in his tepee; and a rumour ran that his arms were broken and his face crushed. and there was much wonder in the village! x the end of the dream . nhe old woman gunthai had nothing but a past over which she brooded and a son upon whom she doted. had she been able to write the latter in the letters of that tongue which came to the prairie many moons after her death, breaking with syllables of magic the spell of the centuries, she would have written it with a “u”; for her son was as the day to her; his coming was the morning and his going was the sunset. when he laughed, there was summer in the wretched little tepee; when he cried, the snows drifted about the mother-heart. winter and summer the old woman sat in her lodge, her back bent with the burdens of many sea- sons and her face seamed with many memories; yet stern and expressionless as of one who has followed a long trail and cannot see its end though the sun be falling. all day she would sit in her lodge, weaving bas- kets of willow, which she exchanged with her tribes- men for meat and robes; for the father of her child was dead. her little boy, whom she tenderly called nu zhinga (little man), would lie long hours m the lonesome trail before her with his chin resting upon his little brown hands, watching the fingers of his mother weave the pliant twigs into form with marvellous skill, as it seemed to him; and often when the hours crept lamely, he would sing to her a monotonous song like the wind's, timing the irregular air with the beating of his toes upon the floor. and when the little singer would cease, the old woman gunthai often forgot the unwoven basket with gazing into his big black eyes, for in them her hope could read great deeds that were to be done after many unborn moons had waned. then she would tell him tales of his father; tales that were loud with the snarl of war drums, the twang of bow thongs, the shriek of arrows, the beat of hoofs! but there was no responsive glitter in the eyes of the boy; his heart was not the warrior's, and the old mother seeing this, sighed and fell to work with nervous haste. and the days of sun and snow wove themselves into years, until nu zhinga had reached that time when boyhood begins to deepen into manhood; and yet as the mother looked upon her son, she found him scarcely taller than a weak man's bow. his legs were short and bowed, his hips narrow, and upon shoulders of abnormal breadth sat his monstrous, shaggy head. it was as if he were the visible body of a black spirit's joke, save for his lustrous eyes, that were like two stars that burn big in the air of evening through a film of mist. the end of the dream and thus it was that when nu zhinga passed through the village, those who were still foolish with youth jeered at the lad, calling his name in con- tempt; but the old men and women who had grown wise, only shook their heads and pitied gunthai in silence. but the boy would take no notice of his tormen- tors, walking on sullen and silent. he lived in a little world of his own, which was isolated from the great world by the unkindness of his people, like a range of frozen hills; and in this small world there were but three dwellers; gunthai, a tame grey wolf, and one other. that other was a despised little crip- ple and her name was tabea (frog). these three, and about them the chromatic glory of dreams like a sunrise that lingers—this was the world of nu zhinga. all day amid the quiet of the summer hills nu zhinga and tabea played to- . gether; he telling of the great indefinite things that he would do in that big mysterious sometime when the days would be pregnant with wonders! for in his soul the pulse of uncertain but lofty resolve bounded, and as he peered into the future, lol it was vast, yet dim with misty possibilities like a broad stretch of prairie expanding under the new moon! and she, with all of her crooked little body attentive, listened and believed even more than she heard; which is the way of those who love. and then these two, after the manner of children, would play at life, building a tepee with willows the lonesome trail from a convenient creek; and tabea would groan as she bore the heavy burdens, thus showing how she would toil for him and suffer. then when the tepee was built, she would go about droning a song, with her back bent as with the weight of an infant, thus showing how she would carry the child of nu zhinga in that big and sunlit sometime. one day when the last white footstep of the win- ter had vanished from the coldest valley, the old woman gunthai laid aside a finished basket and called her boy to her side. " it is the time," she said; " the time is ripe with summers. nu zhinga must eat no meat for four days; then he must go to the hill where the visions come, that he may know what is to be for him in the light of the unborn moons." so nu zhinga ate no meat for four days, and when the fourth evening came, as the fires roared upward among the circled lodges, he passed through the village and took his way to the high hill of dreams. it was the time when the valleys are loud with the song of frogs and when the earth begins to learn anew the pleasant lesson of the sun. when he had stopped, breathless with toiling up the long incline, for he was weak with hunger, he turned and looked back upon the jumbled village and saw, indistinctly through the mist of the even- ing, his mother standing before the door of her lodge, straining her gaze that she might see her boy for the last time, climbing to the height where the the lonesome trail “i saw the stars that were like the eyes of a friend,” said the boy, “and i heard the wind as it sang to itself in the gulches. i slept and woke and the sun was laughing on the hills !”. many seasons sit lightly upon a form when hope sits with them; but despair is heavy, and again the weight of many years bent the shoulders of the mother. when the sun leaves a cloud of glory, it leaves a mass of murk; thus passed the light from the wrinkled face of gunthai. there was a sigh in her voice as she spoke; a sigh like that of a wind that is heavy with rain: “ there should have come a dream loud with the noises of battle and shrill with the flight of arrows! thus did your father dream.” so nu zhinga went a second and a third and a fourth time to the hill of dreams, and the last answer that his mother heard was like the first. and on the fifth day the heart of the old mother was sore with sorrow, and all that night she did not sleep, but wept and moaned: “how shall gunthai be com- forted when her eyes are dim and her fingers stiff? her son shall not be mighty in the hunt and battle, for he has had no dream.” the lad, awakened in the night by the moaning of his mother, knew in an indefinite way that he was the cause of so much grief; and in his breast grew a great pang of soul hunger that would not pass away. even with the giant joy of the sunrise it did not pass away. the end of the dream in the early light nu zhinga passed out of the vil- lage, for his heart was heavy. as he walked, lo everything was sad except the sun, and the light of its gladness deepened the shadow of his sorrow. the sound of the wind moving in the bunch grass of the hillside was like a faint cry of a great pain. at length he threw himself down and buried his face in the grass. the despair of those who dream day- dreams was upon him. there was night in his heart; his small body shook with sobs. a long while he lay thus, nor did he hear the soft step that stopped beside him. at length nu zhinga raised his head from the grass and saw tabea sitting beside him with pity in her eyes and in the attitude of her crooked little body. without a word they stared each into the face of the other; and as nu zhinga looked, the desolate grey of the world began to develop its wonted brilliance of colour, as though the union of their tears had produced a prism. at length these two arose and walked among the hills, dreaming as was their wont, and again the sun- light entered the heart of nu zhinga. when the two outcasts entered the village, even though the youths trooped behind them shouting “ peazha!” (no good), yet the sunlight did not pass; for upon one hand walked the dreams of nu zhinga and upon the other, tabea. one day in the time of the gathering of the maize, when the brown hills shivered with the first frosts, the lonesome trail the voice of a crier was heard through the village calling the braves to battle; for the big chief of the omahas would lead a war party against the sioux. so the old woman gunthai took down the weapons of her fallen brave from the side of the tepee where they had hung in idleness for many moons. she strung the long unbent bow with a thong of buckskin and retipped the arrows with the feathers of the hawk. then she wept over them, and blessed them with weird songs; and calling nu zhinga to her side, placed them in his hands, and said: “ bring them back red with the blood of the sioux !" and the youth took them, wondering why it was so very great a thing to kill. then the war party rode out of the village and nu zhinga rode with it. and there were two who climbed to the highest hill and, shading their eyes with their hands, watched the braves disappear into the distance. they were gunthai and tabea; and the hopes of each were great. for might not even nu zhinga do great deeds ? such things had been. after many days the returning band rode up the valley that rang with the song of victory. but when it rode into the village, a great cry went up against nu zhinga, the squaw-hearted. for in the battle with the sioux his pony had fallen with an arrow in its breast, and when the omahas returned from the pitiless pursuit of their flying foes, they found him crying like a squaw over the carcass of the animal. the end of the dream when the people heard this concerning nu zhinga, an angry cry, like that of a strong wind in a thicket, passed over the multitude gathered about the braves. “let him go work with the squaws ! ” they cried. and the unanimous cry of a people is · a law. so nu zhinga, the squaw-hearted, carried water and wood with the women and was patient. at least he had tabea ever near him, which was like living in the light of perpetual sunrise, and hope, like an incurable disease, would not leave his breast. the old woman gunthai seeing how more than squaw-hearted her son had grown, sat in her lodge weaving the baskets of willow. but the hope of her heart was gone. how she had dreamed of the prow- ess of her little man! how he would be mighty among his people; mighty with the arm that is piti- less and strong—a slayer of enemies! but nową and the old woman's thought would check itself at that barren gulch in the hills through which death comes like a blast of bitter winds, for she could see no further. so the suns came and went; but there was night for her in the brightest noon; the seasons passed, but for her heart there was cold, even in the kind midsummer. one day in the time of the cubs (december) it happened that a child of the village was stricken with a mysterious sickness. the fierce heat of the time of the sunflowers blazed in its blood. its eyes slayer of would checkich death the lonesome trail glowed with the brightness of a burning thing. its lips muttered strange words that were not the words of men; and those who listened, trembled. and after some time, the whole burning body of the child became one mass of sores. it was then that washkahee, the big medicine-man, came to the lodge of the sick, sang his most potent songs and performed his most mysterious rites. but one day the child leaped to its feet and stared at the wall with eyes that were glazed with terror; then shrieked and fell back limply into its blankets. and when the winter had crept into its burning blood, they buried it upon a hill; and the wonder of the village was great. but the end was not yet. another and another crept into his blankets, stricken with the same sick- ness. then another and another, until from many lodges came the moans of the afflicted. those who dwelt in the lodges where the scourge entered, fled from their stricken kinsmen as from the visible body of death. they who could laugh back at the chal- lenge of the sioux, quailed before the subtle creeping of this invisible foe. they who were as yet un- touched by the unseen hand, huddled terrified and speechless about their fires, in the light of which they stared at each other and found each face ghastly, as though it were the mirror of their dread. in the stillness of their bated breaths they heard the lonesome monotony of the winter wind and the swish of the drifting snow, through the drone of the end of the dream which pierced like arrows of ice the occasional shrieks of the deserted dying or those who battled with gro- tesque terrors in the giddy whirl of feverish delirium. with trembling fingers the women bound blankets closely across the doors of the lodges, in the hope of barring out the black spirit that wandered about the village. vain hope! through the walls of the strongest lodge crept the subtle spirit. one night the sound of a wild voice crying through the storm beat into the lodges : “washkahee has cried to wakunda [god] and lo! washkahee has dreamed! only a tuft of hair from the head of the white bison can save us! so spoke the dream to washkahee; who will seek the white bison ? " it was as though the winter wind had found words! the people, huddled about their fires, knew the voice to be that of the big medicine-man, wash- kahee, yet they did not move. the bravest had become weak as a child at the back of a squaw. that night nu zhinga, lying in the lodge of his mother, heard the cry that came out of the storm; and when he slept he dreamed. he had walked far across the white prairie and his legs were aching with toil and his heart with despair. then there broke upon his dream a mighty roar, and lo! he saw, charg- ing down upon him, the white bison, tossing the crusted snow from its lowered horns. “ tae ska! tae ska!” (white bison) nu zhinga cried, and was awakened by his own voice. the lonesome trail so in the early light of the morning, nu zhinga took down the bow and arrows of his father, and wrapping himself in a buffalo robe, he strode out into the prairie with his tame wolf trotting at his heels. to him the dream was an omen. might he not find the white bison, and thus drive death from among his people? as he walked, the dream that had ever crept like a slow music through his blood, grew into the sway- ing fury of a battle-song. he timed his brisk steps with a joyous chant that echoed up the frosty valleys. he would find the white bison! then his people would shout his name without derision. gunthai would be glad; tabea would be glad. tabea ! the word was music. but meanwhile in the village thicker and thicker fell the invisible arrows of the terror; and in the lodges where they fell dwelt the cry of agony and delirium and the muffled shriek of death. the old woman gunthai and the cripple tabea were not spared. the old and the young, the weak and the strong, the brave and the cowardly found no spell to ward away the stroke of the hidden hand. at length the fear of the tribe grew into a frenzy. it needed but an incident to lash it into madness. one evening as the night crept westward across the hills, a brave leaped upon a pony and yelling sent the frightened animal flying up the valley. he was fleeing from the curse that hung over the village. then the fear became a madness. the people the end of the dream rushed from their lodges and, fighting for the near- est pony, fled after the lone rider who had disap- peared into the night. those who were too weak or too unfortunate to gain the back of a pony hung to the mane and were dragged in the snow until their grips weakened, when they ran with frantic shrieks after their disappearing tribesmen. the valley leading from the village be- came choked with the fleeing people. many of the stricken leaped from their blankets and followed in the wild rout, until their knees weakened and their brains swam, when they lay shrieking in the snow until death came. from the deserted village the cries of the helpless followed the unhearing refugees, who fled as the bison flee when the pitiless hunter follows. fainter and fainter grew the yelling until it was swallowed up in the wind that lashed the spraying snow. when the morning looked into the valley, it found no smoke arising from the silent lodges. only the dead were there; the dead and the winter. on the evening of the second day after the flight of the tribe, a lone form topped the hill above the village and looked down into the still white valley, where lay the snow-choked lodges, quiet as a dream. the form was short, and bent as with the toil and hunger of a long, hard trail. at its heels a gaunt, grey wolf limped and whimpered with the ache of emptiness and the frost. the short, bent form stood still upon the summit the lonesome trail and shading its eyes with a hand that trembled, cast a long and searching gaze upon the lodges of his people. no smoke, no voice, no roar of fires, scented with the evening meal! the form straightened itself and stood with head thrown back, making a thin and pitiful figure against the cruel white glare of the icy evening sky. it put a hand to its mouth, trumpet-wise, and raising the other above its head, waved about a tuft of long, grey hair. "tae ska! tae ska!”. the voice was scarcely raised above a faint, dry wheeze that sighed dirge-like above the lifeless val- ley. the grey wolf with its four trembling legs drawn together in the snow, raised its frost-whitened muzzle to the fading sky and with a long, wild wail drowned the feebler voice of its master. with limping stride, grown short and uncertain as the first steps of a papoose, the form went down the hillside and entered the village where the winter dwelt. “tae ska! tae ska! i have found the white bison!” the wheezing voice passed among the lodges like a mournful wind that haunts the lonesome places of a bluff. round and round the village went the man and the wolf, crying into the silent lodges; and the man's face was wolflike with weariness and hunger; and the wolf's eyes were grown half human with the pinch of emptiness and frost. the end of the dream "why do you not come forth, for i have suffered and i have the tuft of hair? no more shall the black spirits dwell among us! come forth and look upon the face of him whose heart was the heart of a squaw!" the crisp snow whined beneath his step and the wolf whined beside him. at last the form stopped before a lodge and with a trembling hand drew away the covering at the entrance. it was the lodge of gunthai. two forms lay within, huddled in their blankets, and the snows had drifted about them. the 'man pulled the blankets from their faces. one was gunthai and the other tabea. each was pinched with the pinch of death and winter, and the mystery of the last long, lone- some trail was about them both. with a moan the form tottered and fell upon its face in the snow. and over all the valley there were but two sounds—the wail of the winter wind and the howl of a lone wolf. days passed, and the people who had fled from home with the pitiless scourge at their heels grew faint and weary with their wandering, and at last the homeаche drove them back upon their trail. footsore, famished, racked with the now dead terror, they toiled in silence homeward, where they could die with the sound of their own fires in their ears. at last one morning a lone rider cautiously peered from under the brow of the hill upon the village. nothing moved below. he urged his emaciated votn. the lonesome trail pony to the summit of the hill and stopping, gazed again, shading his eyes with a hand grown weak and thin. there seemed nothing in the valley to fear. turning about upon his pony, he raised his arms in the light of dawn and cried back into the valley be- yond to the waiting remnant of his people—a long, exultant cry, for he had looked upon his home. slowly the returning tribe, now dwindled to half its former numbers, toiled up the hill. only the strong were left, and now the strong were weak. the straggling band of men, women and ponies reached the summit, a pitiful, ragged multitude, and gazed for a moment into the valley. then a great shout arose above the silent spaces, scintillant under the dawn, as the halting, famished band swooped down the hill to be again at home. again the fires roared upward from the lodges, and the voices of a happy people drove away the silence of the winter. there was no longer any dis- ease; the winter and the flight had purged the tribe. who had saved them from the black spirits ? could a tribe run faster than the things which are not good? the sun was at the centre of its short path when the answer to this question of the tribe broke into the lodges where the people sat about their steaming kettles. for it was then that one ran through the village waving a tuft of long, grey hair and startling the ears of his people with a shout: “ see! the tuft of hair from the head of the the end of the dream white bison! it has saved us; for do you not remem- ber the words of washkahee?" the people rushed from their lodges and thronged about the man who held the tuft of hair. “who has found the white bison ?" they cried. and the answer of him who held the tuft of hair struck the people silent with wonder: " it was nu zhinga, the squaw-hearted; even he who could not dream a dream!” the revolt of a sheep slep' none for a week, and you go on a-trampin' and a-gabbin' till you got me all on needles! why can't you leave me be? o damn it!" the last words were more like a sob than a curse; and the white, thin face and quivering lips seemed too impotent for the words. hank stopped pacing up and down, and with his fists resting upon his hips he stared at the little man. “now, sheep,” he drawled kindly, "you hain't got no call to talk that away. hain't i tryin' to be your friend to the finish? i was just thinkin' to cheer you up so's you'd make a respect'ble, manly hangin'. i didn't go to rile you." the little man thus addressed as “ sheep " drew himself up into a shivering bunch among the furs and groaned. the big man shook his head slowly and sat down, leaning against the wall of the cabin. “ pore sheep,” he muttered. for an hour he sat with his chin in his hands, staring with pitying eyes upon the huddled little man, who now and again shook with shuddering sobs. the candle flame flickered dismally in the night wind that came in through the chinks in the wall. at length a series of stifled groans grew up among the furs, accompanied by a spasmodic jerking of the limbs of the little man. with a deep sigh he sat up. with an imbecile droop of the lower jaw, and eyes that burned feverishly with utter horror, he stared at his companion. the lonesome trail : “o cuss you, hank!” he broke out querulously, “why can't you talk none? you goin' to let me keep a-slippin' down, down, down right into hell and never say a word to me? what you settin' there like a bump on a log for?” “w'y, sheep," said the big man kindly; “ thought you was tryin' to snooze.” "snooze! how can i snooze with a million little devils runnin' up and down my backbone and a- dancin' all over my head? you knowed i couldn't sleep! you knowed i hain't slep' for a week! snooze! o damn it! hain't i goin' to get plenty of snoozin' when they drag the cart out from 'n under me in the mornin'?”. sheep's voice broke; the fire went out of his eyes; his teeth chattered as though a sudden gust of winter had struck him. “now, sheep," said hank,“ don't be so riled up like. i know it's hard to go out that away; but it won't last long, and it can't hurt much after the first jerk. i reckon it don't matter much how a feller goes out after he's gone." “oh, shut that up!" the little man leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. after a considerable silence the big man produced a flask of liquor and spoke soothingly. “want a drink, sheepy, old man?” the little man leaped up with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “ 'course i do! what made you keep a-hidin' se the revolt of a sheep it when you knowed all along that's what i been wantin'?" he grasped the flask and drank with great eager gulps until it was empty. then he sat down against the cabin wall, staring fixedly at the candle flame. the empty, sheepish, cowardly face began to gain expression as the liquor mounted to his head. a light of fearlessness began to grow in his eyes. lines appeared and deepened in his thin face, suggesting at once a certain degree of mastery and infinite malev- olence. the wolf that lurks somewhere in the fastness of every man's soul had come forth and routed the sheep. “what in thunder you doin' with all that heavy artillery hangin' to you, hank? take 'em off! i don't need no guards. who said i was thinkin' of breakin' camp? i hain't tryin' to run, am i? damn me, i'm glad i done it and i'm a-goin' to walk right straight into hell a-grinnin'! sheep, am i?" the little man laughed a strange laugh that had the snarl of a mad wolf in it; a moment since he had been bleating like a scared lamb. “you set there and listen. sheep, sheep, sheep! that's what they all been a-callin' me, but when i get done tellin' you about it, i guess you won't call me no sheep. hain't a danged one of you big fellers as would 've done it up better 'n me! “you've knowed me quite a spell, hank; and you never knowed no bad of me till now, did you? and i hain't had any easy trail most of the time neither. the lonesome trail when i was jest a little feller goin' to country school back east, the other fellers always picked onto me 'cause i was so easy to pick onto. never had a fight in my life. always scared to death of fightin'; sucked it in with my mother's milk, i guess. used to get off alone and bawl 'cause i couldn't make myself fight. “never was a real boy; always a kind of a stray sheep, bleatin' around in lonesome places. guess i must look like a sheep; anyway the boys called me that; and it stuck. pretty hard bein' a sheep amongst wolves, hank! “i was always shy and easy scared, hank. i never owned it to a livin' man before; but a man is like to say things just before he goes out for good that he wouldn't say before. “you knowed ol' man leclerc, didn't you? her dad, you know. used to live down-river half a day's hard walkin'. i reckon that ol' man was about the best friend i ever had, 'ceptin' you, hank. kind of seemed to understand me like. wonder if he's hearin' me now! don't give a damn if he is! he knowed it wasn't in me to be bad, and he knows i done right. i tell you, hank, i ain't scared, nor 'shamed nor nothin'. damn me, i can see donahan a-dyin' yet, and it does me good, hank! does me good!” the little man's eyes blazed, and his face seemed to take fire from them. but the light died as quickly as it was kindled, like a fire in too little fuel whipped the revolt of a sheep by a wind too strong. a soft light of reminiscence lingered where the fiercer glow had died. “ used to go down there pretty often when i could; part to see the ol' man, and most to see his girl. nice little thing, hank; awful nice little thing! don't you think so? good as an angel, too, but weak like a woman can be. i hain't nothin' again' her, hank—so help me god, i hain't! i wasn't the man for her. she'd ought to 've had a big, strong, quiet feller what wasn't afraid of the devil. some feller like you, hank-or donahan. “oh, let the hottest fires in hell eat donahan!” the little man shook with a passion that seemed grotesque, because it was too big for him. “and i kep' goin' down there, and goin' down there, till i begun to be happy, hank. begun to thinkin' part of this world was made for me. begun to thinkin' about havin' a woman and babies; and somehow i got to feelin' bigger and stronger, and not sneakin' any more. " 'peared like the girl liked me. never had nothin' to do with no woman 'cept my mother, you know. oh, hank, why can't a feller be a man when he wants to so bad? i dunno. i tried. "well, one time i went down there and ol' man leclerc was pretty sick. said he was a-goin' to die sure thing. wheezin' already and pickin' at the blankets. calls me up to him, and after he got done tellin' me what he was goin' to do d'rectly, he says: “sheep, my boy, i've brought her up as near the revolt of a sheep could and watch her skip about the place makin' things comfort'ble like a woman can when she's a mind. “and by and by i was happier'n ever. that was i when the little boy come. cute little feller, that boy was. don't you mind? had blue eyes, and that tickled me half to death, 'cause black eyes is the rule in my fambly and hers, and it seemed like god was tryin' to be kind to me. “when father donahan christened the young'n, i drawed his attention to them blue eyes and dona- han (no, i ain't goin' to call him father no more, 'cause if he was a priest, he was a priest of the devil!) what was i sayin'?” at the sound of donahan's name upon his own lips, the little man's face writhed into malevolent contortions. “what was i sayin'?” he repeated dazedly. “blue eyes,” suggested hank. “quit breakin' in onto me that away!” snapped the little man peevishly. “and when i showed him the blue eyes, donahan grinned and said, 'yes, god had been very kind.' and it did look like it, didn't it? “donahan named the boy; asked me if i'd let him. called him james for a front name and donahan for a middle one. well, things went along smooth until one day the little feller died. made me feel pretty bad-like to tore my heart out. but donahan he come and cried too, and that helped. always helps the lonesome trail to have somebody feel bad with you; don't you think so? “after that things dragged on like they have a way of doin'. i kep' on tryin' to be like a man. but the girl, she seemed to be takin' it pretty hard. got stranger and stranger toward me, like as if she didn't care for me no more. donahan used to come in often and console her, and she seemed to brighten up at them times—'cause she was always strong on the religion business. that's what made her so good, i guess. “but by and by there was goin' to be another youngster, and i kind of got into the way of whistlin' again somehow. got to thinkin' how it'd be a boy with blue eyes like the one that died. about that time the factor sent me off on a long trip. hated to go, but it couldn't be helped. you'd ought to seen me travel, hank! wantin' to get back, you know; 'feared all the time mebbe she was sick and a-wantin' me. made a quick trip-quicker'n most big men could, hank. and when i come in sight of home, i was that glad that i couldn't feel my feet and legs achin'. " it was night when i got back, and i thought i'd just take a peep in at the winder before i went in; light was shinin' out so home-like. you know how a boy looks a long time at a big, red apple be- fore he eats it; gettin' his eyes full of it before he fills his belly? that was like me. “i crep' up and looked in; winder was raised a the lonesome trail t was a woman. “never was a better woman. i ain't blamin' her." he rocked himself back and forth for some time. his sobbing ceased. suddenly he raised his face and the flames of hell glittered in his tear-washed eyes. "i'm a white-livered coward, so i didn't go in and kill him. he was a big man, and i ain't no fighter. i run; don't know why. didn't feel sore nor achy in my legs no more. i run and run and run till my breath give out, then i fell down and the stars swum 'round and went out. then after awhile i was up and walkin', and nothin' would stand still. things danced round and round me and the air was full of little spiteful, spittin' lights and sounds like devils a-laughin'. and by and by i come to old man leclerc's place. don't know why i went there. nothin' there but the place. “i went in and laid down on the floor all broke up. and when i went to sleep, i dreamed of killin' donahan. i woke up and it was mornin'. “first thing i heard was the rattle of some red river carts goin' north. i guess it was the devil that whispered somethin' in my ear then. i run out and told a big lie to the bull-whackers. “man a-dyin' in here! go as fast as you can to the next post and tell father donahan to come down to see the pore devil through with it!'. “guess i looked like i'd been settin' up for a the revolt of a sheep week, so the bull-whackers believed it and went on north a-whackin' their bulls into a swingin' trot. “well, donahan come all right." here the little man lapsed into a stubborn silence. he leaned against the wall and for several hours there was no sound in the cabin but that of heavy breathing. at length hank got up and walked over to the little window. a dull grey blur had grown up in the east. it would soon be time. hank sighed. suddenly the little man was aroused from his lethargy as though he had heard a shout. he began talking rapidly. “i stood behind the door of the cabin, and when he come in i downed him with a club. then i tied his hands and his feet and fastened him to the floor. i sat beside him and spit in his face till he come to a-groanin'. and it was a couple days before he could talk sense or knowed who i was. “and he begged and he cussed, but i didn't say nothin'. he got hungry; so i chawed at some pem- mican i had left from the trip so's he'd get hungrier. he got thirsty; so i drank more'n i wanted so's he'd get thirstier. “said he'd get me into heaven for just one sup of water; so i went out with my cup; i filled it with dust; i put it to his lips. “ said he'd send me to hell if i didn't give him just one drop. so i give him more dust. and by and the lonesome trail by he got luny like, and cussed like a bull-whacker and whined like a sick woman by turns. “god, hank! how that man hung on! “ and by and by he seemed to get a little sense for a spell, and he yelled out: 'he had blue eyes, didn't he? look at mine!' and i cuffed him in the mouth till his teeth was bloody, 'cause his eyes was blue.” the little man hesitated. suddenly an expression of supreme terror came over his face. the wolf was dead—the frightened sheep looked out of his eyes. there was a sound of footsteps. the shabby light of early dawn had already cheapened the glow of the guttered candle. the door opened—a priest entered. the little man gave a yell of terror and shrank into his corner. “ take it away, hank!” he screamed. “take it away!” hank spoke a few words into the ear of the priest, who muttered a prayer and went out. for some time the little man stared appealingly into the eyes of the bigger man. when he spoke his voice was husky and low: “won't you look after the woman a little, hank? if it's got blue eyes__" there was now a sound of other footsteps ap- proaching. the little man gasped like one who has suddenly been thrust into cold water. “oh, hank !” he moaned;“ hold me tight. don't let 'em take me! they'll stand me in the cart under the revolt of a sheep a tree and they'll put the rope around my neck and they'll drag the cart away! oh!” the footsteps were now very near the door. the little man on a sudden became very quiet. he bit nervously at his finger-tips. his body stiffened. his face seemed transparent. when the sound of a hand at the latch was heard, his jaw dropped nervelessly. he stared upon the soon-to-be-opened door with wide, dilated eyes, in which all that had been human was burned to dust. xii the mark of shame n the old times there were two brothers, seha and ishneda; and because of hate for him, they did many acts of unkindness to a man whose name was shonga saba. and one night a man was killed and the man was ishneda. so with the coming of the light, a whisper ran about the village, saying “shonga saba has killed.” and the whisper was true; for shonga saba sat in his lodge all day, speaking no word. and when any came to speak, he lifted his lip in a bad way and snarled. a sick wolf does so. it happened that morning that some hunters went forth, for it was the time for the hunting of bison and the tribe was resting on the trail. and when the hunters returned, their eyes were like the eyes of a scared deer. they told a story that frightened the people. they had shot at three elk and their aim was true; but the arrows came out on the other side-bloodless. and the elk changed into wolves, running away very swiftly. so they who were wise saw famine coming. they recalled old times; how the game had often failed after a murder. for the spirit of the dead man makes it so. and the wise old men told these things, the mark of shame - and the old women said it had been so; they remembered. so there was a space of little speaking, for fear sat upon tongues. when the sun was going down, the people gath- ered about the big chief's tepee where the fathers were sitting with great thoughts. they did not smoke nor talk. they shivered as the long shadows crept out of the hills—yet it was the brown hot time. and when it was dusk a chief made words which were whispers: “let a wachoobay [holy man] take strong weapons and travel the back trail till the middle of the night, that he may meet the spirit that comes and kill it; for famine walks with the spirit that comes, and there shall be the wailing of children and many flat bellies." and the wachoobay went forth with strong weapons. he took the back trail; he looked straight ahead. and the people stared after him until the dark came between, as he walked to meet the two comers. then the chief's voice went over the people in the darkness, for the fires were not lit; an enemy was coming, and there is safety in darkness: “let him who killed come among us." so one went and brought the man. he stood among the people, felt but not seen; and with him came a sobbing that grew into words: “i, shonga saba, am here; and i have killed. have my people seen a bison bull stung with the lonesome trail a fly until he tore the earth with his horns? it was so. after a long time of heat the storm comes out of the night; it does angry deeds, and in the morning it is past. it was so. my breast aches. i struck my enemy, but myself i struck also. something has died within me. so i go to do as the others have done. i will take the punishment." and though the people did not hear nor see him go, they knew that he was gone. that night only the children slept. when shonga saba reached his tepee, he did that which was the custom. he cut his hair, he took off his garments, he smeared his forehead with mud. of tears and dust he made the mud. upon his fore- head he put the mark of his shame. from the peak of his tepee, where the smoke comes out, he tore the rawhide flap. it was black- ened with the smoke of many fires. about his shoulders he bound it; and it was the garment of his shame. and then he went forth from the camp. he pitched a lonesome tepee without the circle of his people; for thus he should live four summers and four winters. it was the custom. and in the first light his woman came to him with water and cooked meat. also, she brought moan- ing. shonga saba spoke no word nor looked up. the mud of tears and dust was upon his forehead, and the blackened garment of shame was upon his shoulders. there was a lump in his throat; but the udlom. the mark of shame water did not wash it away. there was an empti- ness in him; but the meat did not fill it. and when he cut the meat, which was well cooked, the man groaned, for blood ran forth and made the food look like a wound. again the tribe took up the trail; they wanted to find the bison, for there was little meat. and the man followed at the distance of an arrow's flight behind his moving people, for such was the custom. but no thunder of bison came from the brown valleys where the trail went; neither was there any dust cloud of pawing hoofs. and the old women remembered old-time famines, and their hands trembled as they pitched the tepees in the dusk that ended the day's toil. and in the mornings the old men gazed into the shining distance, looking from under their hands with eyes that glared as in battle. and all day, sweating and toiling on the trail, the people ate the distance with hungry eyes.' round bellies flattened; for the evil days had come. and the man who had killed saw all this. he too walked with hunger and something bigger than the food-wish. also lonesomeness was ever by his side. in the nights he felt the mark upon his fore- head like the sting of an angry knife; and the smoke- flap was as a fire upon his shoulders. and one night he said: “i have brought these days of toiling without food upon my people. it the lonesome trail was for this that my mother groaned at my coming. i should have been the food of wolves on that day when my eyes were not yet open. i will go away, for evil walks with me, and my feet scatter trouble in the trail. my woman is as one who has no man, and my children are as a stranger's children. i will walk far and seek peace among other peoples, among strange hills and valleys." and he went in the night. he was far into the lonesome places—and it was morning. he was weak with the night walking, for famine had made him thin. so he lifted his face and his hands to the sun. his palms he turned to the young light and he spoke earnest words to the spirit: “wakunda, trouble have i met, and trouble have my people met through me. help me to walk in the good trail!” and as he said the words, a cloud passed across the sun; it was like a smutch of mud across a shining forehead. the man who had killed, groaned. he hid his face in the grass that he might not see the mark of his shame. but as the day grew older the hunger pinched more, and the man got up, set his face away from the sun, and went on further into the lonesome places. and in the evening he killed a rabbit with his bow and arrows. and as the rabbit leaped up at the sting of the arrow, it made a pitiful sound like that of a man struck deep with a knife in his sleep. and the man fed, for a strange sickness had the mark of shame gripped him. the mark upon his forehead burned, and the smoke-flap was as a heavy burden upon his shoulders. in the last light he found wild turnips and ate. they could not cry out; they could not bleed. and then sleep came, but not rest. while his body slept, his spirit killed ishneda over and over again. and he saw the first light with haggard eyes. and when he had eaten again of the wild turnips he said: “i will go to the village of the poncas; they will take me in, for i will speak soft words.” that day he travelled, and the next and the next. but two others had travelled faster than he-famine and the story of his bad deed; for none travel so fast as these. and these two had travelled across the prairie together. and after much walking, shonga saba came to the top of a hill and turned hungry eyes upon the ponca village in the valley. it was the time when the old day throws big shadows. he stood thin, bent against the sky. the smoke-flap at his shoul- ders lifted in the wind that the eyes in the valley might see. and a dead hush crept over the village; the sound of children died; the people disappeared. full of wonder and fear, the lean, lonesome one walked with halting step down the dry hillside. he entered the village, and it was as a place where all are dead. he came to the centre of the village. he lifted his palms and made a piteous cry, which was like a the lonesome trail dry wind moving in a wilderness. and then the head of an old man was thrust forth from a tent- flap, and from it came a husky voice: “begone, o bringer of famine!”. and the man went forth. his head was bent, his shoulders stooped as with a weight. he walked far and met the night. he lay down in its shadow. . his forehead ached, and the smoke-flap was as a burning brand. and in the darkness he made a cry: “wakunda, very far have i walked seeking peace; but it has fled before me. help me to find the good trail !" he was very tired, and on a sudden it was day again, and the dew was upon him. he found wild turnips and ate. he drank at a little creek that ran very thin among dying reeds. then he walked, he knew not where. but now and then he whispered bitter words into the lonesome air: “in the land of the spirits is peace; there i would walk, but i can- not find the trail.” the day was very hot. the prairie wavered in the heat; the bugs droned; the light wind sighed in the dry grasses like a thirsty thing. the far hills seemed floating in a lake of thin oil. they looked lean and hungry, yellow as with a fever; and upon their sides the dry earth was broken like old sores. into the heat-drone the man sent his sighing. his feet were heavy; he wished to die, he wished to die. and when the day was past the highest place, a rumbling grew below the rim of the earth, like the the lonesome trail ine bringer! the famine bringer!” stricken with a common fear, they fled. and the storm broke upon the valley. it poured down water and fire upon one who lay there upon his face. it roared, it shrieked, it flamed about him; but he moved not. his breast ached with the ache of the lonesome, for even death had fled him. and when the storm had passed, the stillness came back like a new pain. the drenched man arose and saw the blood-red sun slip down a ridge of steaming hills. and near him lay one who had been killed with an arrow. the feathers stood forth from his breast. his face had the look of much pain; his hands gripped at the wet grass. and the lonesome one looked long upon the dead man, thinking deep thoughts. “even the dead have pain," he said, “ and they seek to hold to the good earth. see how he clutches it! i shall live and follow my trail, for on all trails there is pain; and wakunda wishes me to live." so he dressed himself in the garments of the dead warrior who needed them no more. he threw away the smoke-flap, and in a gully that roared with rapid waters, he washed the smutch from his forehead the mud of dust and tears. and he said: “now will i walk straight again, for the marks of my shame are gone. i will seek the otoes, and they will take me in." is it not the way of a man to seek better things ? and it happened that in the village of the otoes the lonesome trail and when he had run far from something that followed yet made no sound, he cast himself down on the prairie and cried to the spirit: “wakunda, with water i washed it away, but it is not gone! am i a wolf to howl always in the wilderness? i have the ache for home. i wish to hear laughter and be clean. help me to find the trail!”. all night his words felt about in the dark for wakunda. the next day his wanderings began anew. and after many sunlights the first frost gripped the prai- rie, and the snows came. more and more the lone- some one thought of the fires of his people. through the shivering nights the tang of the home-smoke filled his nostrils; and day by day the home-ache grew. so his weary feet followed his longing, and the trail led home. but there was no greeting. in an empty lodge without the village he made a fire that held the winter off but left him shivering. and once again his woman came with sobbing and a downcast face, bringing water and meat. he ate and drank, yet thirst and hunger stayed. in the nights he looked wistfully upon the fires of his people burning little days out of the darkness. he wished to be beside them and hear the laughter, for the famine had passed, and there was joy. and often by day, seha, the brother of the man who was killed, came with taunting and words that wounded as a whip-thong. but the lonesome one xiii the beating of the war drums i te could never be a strong waschusha (brave). when he was born he was no bigger than a baby coyote littered in a ter- rible winter after a summer of famine! that was what the braves said as they sat in a circle about the fires; and often one would catch him, spanning his little brown legs with a contemptuous forefinger and thumb, while the others made much loud mirth over this bronze mite who could never be a brave. then the object of their mirth would pull away from his tormentors, displaying his teeth with a whimper that was half a growl, and would slink away into the shades where the firelight did not reach. whereupon the braves would call after him in their good-natured cruelty: “ mixa zhinga! mixa zhinga!” (little wolf). so, in accordance with certain infallible psychic laws, little wolf became what he was considered, and fulfilled his wild name to the letter. . one day in one of his most vulpine moods, while trotting among the hills on all fours, stopping now and then to sit upon his haunches and give forth a series of howls in imitation of his namesakes, he had discovered a deserted wolf's hole in the hillside, of the beating of the war drums which he immediately made himself the growling possessor. to make this play metempsychosis the more real, he had spirited from the tepee of his father a com- plete wolf's hide, clad in which he spent the greater part of the time prowling about among the hills with an intense wolfish hate for all humankind gnawing at his heart. one summer evening little wolf, sitting upon the top of the hill, gazed down upon the circle of tepees which was the village of his people. as he looked, the silent yow he had taken, never to go back to his tribe again, but to be a wolf with the wolves, slowly became shapeless, then indistinct, then it yan- ished altogether. for the smoke, rising slowly from the various fires, told a bewitching tale of supper to his eyes; and the light wind brought to his keen nostrils the scent of boiling kettles, which acted as a sort of footnote to the tale of the smoke, finally clinching the argument of the text! so the little wolf fell from his high resolve as the wolf skin fell from his back, and he forthwith trotted down the hillside, at every step degenerating, as he thought, into just a common zhinga zhinga (baby). having cautiously approached a fire, little wolf sat upon the ground with his knees huddled up to his chin, and watched the deft hands of the women tend- ing the baking of the squaw corn cakes and the yellow watuh (pumpkin) in the embers. the old women, their backs bent with their loads, the lonesome trail carried bundles of faggots from a thicket near by and placed them upon the fires, that flared up with a sound like the wind's, making a small circular day amid the gathering shadows. the air was pleasant with the scent of boiling kettles, some filled with the meat of the tae or the tachuga (bison and antelope) ; some ebullient with the savoury zhew munka, the tea of the prairie. and as little wolf sat and looked upon the suggestive scene, a great wave of sympa- thetic kindness passed through his small body. and especially did the wolfishness of his little heart melt into an indefinite feeling of love for hu- manity as his eyes followed the form of the maiden hinnagi as she bustled with her mother about the kettles. already in his childish mind he was wield- ing the stone axe with mighty force in some mys- terious battle among the hills; and it was all for her. his eyes grew big with the dream he was dreaming. he stared into the fire as he thought the thoughts of ambitious youth. the flame fell and crept into the embers. then reality came back as the shadows came. something of the wonted wolfishness tugged at his heart as he thought of what the braves had said. he could never be a strong brave! with an awful bitterness this thought grew upon him, and even a full stomach could not quite ease the pang. after the evening meal the war drums were brought into the open space about which the tepees were built. for upon the morrow the entire band the lonesome trail then the moon, big-eyed with wonder, arose above the hills, pouring a weird light upon the dance. little wolf, who had been huddling closely against a tepee with an unintelligible fear, now felt the de- lirium of the dance for the first time. he leaped to his feet with a shout that echoed strange and hoarse from the hills! the whole village, as if awakened from the spell, caught up the cry and sent it trembling up the gulches ! with the hot blood pounding at his temples, little wolf swung into the frenzy of the dance. he leaped like the antelope when it catches the scent of the hunter. he was no longer the zhinga zhinga who could never be a brave. the fanaticism of the savage was upon him. with his head thrown back until it caught the full glare of the moon, he danced. it was not a child's face that the pale light struck; it was the face of a fiend! the unfettered wind of the prairie was in his lungs! the swiftness of the elk was in his feet! he danced until the hills danced about him in a dance of their own. he danced until the moon reeled like a sick man! he danced until his chest felt crushed as with the hug of a grizzly! he danced until the stars and the moon went out, and there was nothing but darkness and a deep, deep oppressive something, like and unlike slumber, upon him! the sun was far up in the heavens when he awoke lying upon the ground where he had fallen with fatigue. he rubbed his eyes and stared about him; the circles of the dance had vanished; the war drums the beating of the war drums were still. the warriors had ridden out of the village into the mysterious region beyond the hills where great deeds awaited to be done. only the women and the children and the old men remained in the village. . . then there came upon little wolf that over- powering thought of bitterness. he was only a zhinga zhinga; he could never be a brave. no, but he would be a wolf! he would live in howling lone- liness among the hills! yet that day as he prowled about, clad in his wolf skin, he was conscious of not being half so good a wolf as he had been the day before. he did not find it quite within his power to hate his people with whom he had felt the delirium of the war dance. the snarling beat of the war drums had awakened in him a vital interest in the great prairie tragedy of food-getting and war-making. several days passed, and the warriors had not re- turned. little wolf was sitting beside the deserted hole which was his den, thinking great thoughts of the future as he basked in the horizontal glare of the evening sun. as he looked with half-shut eyes across the hills, his dreaming was suddenly arrested by the sight of what seemed a number of bunches of grass moving along the brow of the hill on the other side of the valley in which the village lay. as he looked and wondered at this fantastic dance of the grasses, there was a wild shout from the opposite hill, and a small band of otoes, their heads covered with grass the lonesome trail into a small valley, he saw through the gloom a number of rudely constructed tepees. breathlessly he listened. for awhile there was no sound except the crackling of the low fires and the flap of the blankets about the poles. then as he listened, there came to his ears a low, mournful wail as of a night wind in the scrub oaks of a bluff. having satisfied himself that the otoes slept soundly, little wolf crawled in the direction of the wail and disappeared in the gloom. some moments afterward, an otoe brave suddenly awoke from his heavy slumber. in the weird glow of the falling fire he beheld at the entrance of his tepee a grey wolf standing motionless. the brave raised himself upon his elbow, uttering a grunt of terror as of one who feels a nightmare and would cry out were not his tongue frozen in his mouth. the wolf with a startled movement whispered hoarsely in the omaha tongue: “the omahas! they are coming! fly! fly!” the otoe brave leaped to his feet, every limb growing cold with fright. he rubbed his eyes and stared at the darkness. the wolf had vanished. now an indian believes weird things, and the warning of a talking wolf was not a thing to be despised even though it were only dreamed. so the otoe brave gave a shout that rang up the gulch and made the grazing ponies snort and tug at their lariats. the beating of the war drums soon the entire band was rushing about the camp. “ the omahas! they are coming!” cried the startled brave. “fly! fly! for lo, a grey wolf came to my tepee and spoke to me in a dream!”. “ fly! fly!” echoed the whole band, delirious with fear. “kill the squaws!” they shouted; for in their flight they could not be burdened with their spoils, and they would not leave them to their enemies. there was the sound of the shrieks of women; then the galloping of hoofs; then silence. two days afterward the omahas, having returned to their stricken village, made the trail of the fleeing otoes thunderous with pursuing hoofs. suddenly topping the hill that overlooked the deserted camp of their enemies, they beheld the bodies of the slain women strewn amid the tepees. over one of these a grey wolf stood.. there was a shout from the foremost of the omaha warriors, and a dozen arrows sang in the air and quivered in the body of the wolf. it rolled upon its side with a cry half human! a group of braves, riding up to the corpse of the woman, pulled the blanket from its face. it was hinnagi! with a savage kick one turned the still quivering body of the wolf upon its back. the grey hide fell from an emaciated brown face, twitching with the agony of death. it was little wolf! xiv dreams are wiser than men d ain walker lay upon the brown grass without the circle of the village; and it was the time when the maize is gathered—the brown, drear time. he lay with ear pressed to the earth. . “what are you doing?” asked one who walked there. “i?” said rain walker; and his eyes and face were not good to see as he raised his head. the dying time seemed also in his face. “the growers are coming up, and i am listening to their breath- ing,” he said. and the questioner walked on with a strange smile; for it was not the time of the coming of the growers. rain walker stood in the centre of the village and held his face to the sky. “what are you doing?” said one who walked there. “i?" and there was twilight in rain walker's eyes as he looked upon the questioner. “i shot an arrow into the air. it did not come back, so i am always looking for it.” and the questioner smiled and went on walking; dreams are wiser than men for no arrow rises that does not fall. a child knows that. and the people said: “it is all because mad buffalo, the ponca, took his squaw. he took her, and she went. it was after the summer's feasting and talking together that she went. rain walker is not forgetting.” and rain walker sat much alone; he sat much alone making strange songs not pleasant to hear. and as he made songs he made weapons. he fash- ioned him a man-de-hi, which is a long spear, tipped with sharp aint; and he sang. he wrought a za-zi- man-di, which is a great bow; and sang all the time. they were hate songs that he sang; they snarled. he shaped many arrows; he headed them with sharp flints and tipped them with the feathers of the hawk; and all the time he sang. he made a we-ak- ga-di, which is an ugly club. he sang to himself and to the weapons that he made. to the harsh, snarling airs he wrought the weapons. the songs went into them, and they looked like things that might hate much. and one drew near who was walking. “why do you make war things?” said he. “i?” and rain walker threw himself upon his stomach, writhing toward the questioner like a big snake. “i am a rattlesnake," he said, “hiss-ss-s -s! go away! i sting!”. and the man went, for it is not good to see a man act like a snake. the lonesome trail and one night the weapons were finished. all that night the people heard the voice of rain walker singing. they said: “those are the songs of one who wishes to go on the warpath!” and in the morning rain walker came out of his lodge. the squaws trembled to see him; and the men wondered. for he had wept and his eyes were pale. well did the men know that he who weeps in hate is not a child. and rain walker raised a hoarse voice into the morning stillness before all the people: “ where is my woman—she who cooked for me and made my lodge pleasant? tell me; for i walk there that the crows may eat me!”. the people shivered as though his voice were the breath of the first frost. “you need not make words, my kinsmen; i know. i walk there and the crows shall eat me." he went forth from the door of his lodge and came to the place where the head chief lived among the hungas. he raised the door flap. “ a-ho!” said he, for the chief was within eating. “i, rain walker, stand before you. i have words to give." “speak,” said the chief. “i am wronged. i wish war! i wish to see the poncas destroyed!” the head chief gazed long into the tear-washed eyes of rain walker, and he said: “it is a big thing to take that trail. it means the wailing of women; dreams are wiser than men it means hunger; it means the crying of zhinga zhingas for fathers that lie in lonesome places and never ride back. it is a hard path to take. i will think." and it happened after the thinking of the big chief that a council was called—a coming-together of the leaders of the bands. and the leaders came together, and sat with big thoughts. it was evening, and among the assembled leaders sat rain walker. his face was thin and cruel as a stone axe stained with blood. then the big chief raised his voice, and words to be heard grew there in the big lodge. “this man who sits with us has been wronged. when our brothers, the poncas, were among us for the feasting and the talking together, mad buffalo was among them. “a woman is a thing not to be understood. now she dies on long winter trails for a man, or grows old and wrinkled suckling his zhinga zhingas; and now she leaves him for another; yet it is the same woman. i knew a wise man once; but he shook his head about these things; and so do i. “you know of whom i speak. it was sun eyes; and she was this man's woman. mad buffalo smiled, and she went with him." rain walker's breath, that hissed through his teeth, filled up the silence that followed. his face was thin and sharp and eager, even as the barbed head of a war arrow. the lonesome trail into impenetrable distances rain walker strode out of the lodge. the night was coming; he went forth to meet it, walking. as he walked toward the night his thoughts were of choobay (holy) things. he thought much of the spirits, and he reached a high hill as he walked. it was high; therefore it was a choobay place. and he climbed to the summit, bare of grass and white with flaked rocks against the sky, that darkened fast as the night walked. then he lit his pipe and made choobay smoke. he wished to have the good wakundas with him, even though he walked alone. for well he knew that no man can walk quite alone. so he extended the pipe stem to the west, the south, the east, the north, and he cried, “o you who cause the four winds to reach a place, help me! i stand needy!" then he extended the pipe stem toward the earth, and he said, “ o venerable man who lives at the bottom, here i stand needy!” and to the heavens he held the stem and cried, “ o grandfather who lives above, i stand needy; i, rain walker! though my brothers treat me badly, yet i think you will help me!” and he felt much stronger. then, with his weapons about him, he set his face to the south, for there in the flat lands of nebraska lay the village of the poncas. and he walked in lonesome places all night. a coyote trotted past him and sat at some distance. “o brother coyote,” said rain walker, “i am on dreams are wiser than men the warpath; teach me your long running and your snapping!” the coyote whined and went into a gulch. “i walk alone, and none relieve my sorrow!" so'sang rain walker; and singing thus he walked into the morning. and the prairie was grey with frost and very big, and the skies were filled with a quiet, so that a far crow cawing faintly made a shout. having nothing to eat he sang, and hunger went away. his song filled the world, for he walked alone where it was very silent. to the hawk he cried for keenness of eyes; but the hawk circled on and was only a speck. nothing heard the man who walked alone. he killed a rabbit and ate; he found a stream and drank. then he met the night walking again, and they walked together until they met the day; and the man saw below him in the flat lands of nebraska the jumbled mud village of the poncas. and it happened that the people in the village were moving very early. there was a neighing of ponies and a shouting of men and a scolding and laughing of women. it was the time of the bison hunt, and they were going forth that day. rain walker lay in the brown grass at the hilltop and watched with wistful eyes the merry ones as the long, thin file left the village, the riders and the walkers and the drags. it is pleasant to go on the hunt. rain walker felt that he would never go again. his face softened; then suddenly it changed and the lonesome trail became again as a barbed war arrow. mad buffalo rode, and after him went sun eyes walking! her head hung low like a thing wilted by the frost. she laughed none; she, too, seemed as one who walked alone. when the long, thin line, like a huge snake writh- ing westward into the hills, had disappeared, rain walker got up and walked fast. he walked fast, for he wished to be near the place of camping when the night came. and it was so. he lay at a distance, watching the fires flare into the night and feeling very hungry, for he caught the scent of the boiling kettles. they smelled like home. and when the people had eaten and the fires had fallen, rain walker said, “now i will begin my war. i need a pony, the poncas have them.” he crawled upon his hands and knees to where the herd grazed. there had been no watch set, for all the tribes were at peace, except the tribe that walked alone. and rain walker rode away into the night. he had big thoughts as he rode. the hunting was poor that year; it happened so, they say. still toward the place where the evening goes went the tribe, peering into far places for the bison; and ever there was one who crept near the tepees at night and heard the words of the poncas, which are the same as the omahas speak. and they wandered, hunting, in the places where the sandhills are—the dreary places. the lonesome trail silence. the coyote ran away, the crows and the hawk flew. the ponies alone watched now. and the man whose pony was not spotted arose and laughed very loud-only it was not the laugh of a glad man. then the man who laughed stripped off the garments of the other and put them upon him- self. then he built a fire and lit his pipe and made choobay smoke. then he spoke to the various wa- kundas that were somewhere there in the silence. “i have killed my enemy. i will burn his heart and give you the ashes, o grandfathers !” the crows heard this, for they had come back looking for their feast. and the man burned the heart of his enemy and scattered the ashes, singing a brave song all the while. he had learned to do this from the kansas; it is their custom. then the man got on the spotted pony and rode away, bearing with him the weapons of the man who stayed. and when he was gone the crows and the coyote came and made harsh noises at each other, for each was hungry, and there was a feast spread there upon the sand. and it happened that evening, they say, that one rode into the ponca camp and went to the tepee where sun eyes, the omaha woman, waited for someone. the man who came had his whole face hidden with a piece of buckskin, having eye and mouth holes dreams are wiser than men in it. and sun eyes was cooking over a fire before her tepee. “ho, mad buffalo!” she said; “ you have not found the bison. why have you hidden your face?” “i found no bison," said the man, “but i saw something in the hills which caused me to hide my face." and sun eyes looked keenly at the man, for she thought it was some wakunda he had seen. “why do you speak in a strange voice?” said she; and she trembled as she said it. “he who has seen something is never the same again!” said he. and while the woman wondered the two ate together. and as the man ate he laughed very pleas- antly at times like a man who is very glad. “why do you laugh, mad buffalo ? " said the woman. “because i was very hungry for something, and i have it now," said the man. and when he had ceased eating he sang glad songs, and again the woman questioned. “i sing because of what i saw in the hills," said he. and this seemed very strange to the woman. but it is not allowed that one should question a man who has seen a wakunda. and it happened that the man was pleased to speak evil words of rain walker, and sun eyes hung her head; her eyes were wet. the lonesome trail il then said the man, having seen: “why do you act so? do you want him? behold! am i not as good to see as rain walker?” and he acted as one who is almost angry and a little sad. but the woman only sobbed a very little sob, for as the chief said in the council, a very wise man does not know the ways of a woman. and it happened that night, they say, that, as the two slept, sun eyes dreamed a strange dream that made her cry out. and the two sat up startled. “ what is it?" said the man. “a dream!” sobbed sun eyes. “what dream?” said the man, and his voice seemed kind. “i cannot tell; i do not wish to be beaten." “tellit, sun eyes. was it about-rain walker?" she did not answer; the man sighed. “do not be afraid," he said. and she spoke. “i dreamed that i saw my zhinga zhinga that i am carrying. and it was rain walker's. it had his face, and it looked upon me with hate. it pushed me away when i offered my breast. it would take no milk from me. and it seemed that its look pierced me like a barbed arrow. thus i awoke, and cried out." the woman was sobbing, and a tremor ran through the man. she felt it as he leaned against her, and she thought it anger. "take me there where i came from—to the vil- dreams are wiser than men lage of my people!” she cried. “you are big and good to see, and many women will follow you! take me to my people! dreams are wiser than men; the wakundas send them. i wish to go back, that my child may smile and take my breast.”. and the man rose and began dressing for the trail. “i will take you back," said he. “dreams are wiser than men." and before the day walked the two went forth on the long trail, back to the village of the woman's people. the man went before and the woman followed, bearing the burdens of the trail. but when the dawn came the man did a strange thing. he took the bur- dens upon his own shoulders, saying nothing. it seemed his heart had been softened; but his face being hidden, the woman could not see what was written there. and the trail was long; but the man was kind. he seemed no longer the mad buffalo. he made fires and pitched the tepee like a squaw. he spoke soft words. and after many days of travelling the two came, as the night was beginning to walk, to the brown brow of the hill beneath which lay the village of the omahas. and the man said: “there are your people. go!" and the woman moaned, saying: “he will not take me, and the dream will be true. never on the the lonesome trail long trail did my heart fail; but now i am weak. my breast aches." but the man said: “ sun eyes, had not rain walker ever a soft heart? he will take you back. look!" and the woman, who had been gazing through tears upon the village of her people, turned and saw that the man had torn the buckskin from his face. she gave a cry and shrank from what she saw. but the man took her gently by the hand. “he will take you back," he said; “ dreams are wiser than men!" xv the smile of god \he omahas were hunting bison. the young moon had been thin and bent like a bow by the arm of a strong man when they had left their village in the valley of ne shuga. night after night it had grown above their cheerless tepees, ever further eastward, until now it came forth no more, but lingered in its black lodge like a brave who has walked far and keeps his blankets because the way was hard and long. all through the time of the growing and dying moon, the omahas had sought for the bison. upon a hundred summits they had halted to gaze beneath the arched hand into the lonely valleys from whence came no sound of lowing cows or bellowing bulls. like the voice of famine through the lonesome air came the caw-caw of the crow. like heaps of bleach- ing bones the far-off sage brush whitened. this evening as the women busied themselves with the building of the tepees, there was no crooning on their lips. the valley in which they were placing their camp was still but for the clattering of the poles, as they were placed in their conical positions, or the flap of the blankets, which were being bound about the poles for a covering. the lonesome trail at dreary intervals a grazing pony would toss its weary head and neigh nervously, as if wondering at the stillness of its masters. the silent squaws gathered armfuls of scrub oak and plum twigs, and lit fires that lapped the blacken- ing air with ruddy tongues and sent their voices roaring up the hills, to be answered by their echoes that came back faintly like the lowing of a phantom herd ! the old men and the braves sat about the fires and no word was on their lips. from lip to lip the fragrant pipe passed, yet even its softening influence could not move to speech the lips it touched. each face upon which the firelight fell was hideous with the gauntness of hunger. one by one the runners, sent out in search of the herds, came into camp. with a slow, swinging trot these great lean men approached, as the gaunt wolf approaches his lair in the cold light of the morning when no prey has been abroad all night. sullen and silent they took their places in the cheerless circles about the fires. there was no need for words from them. their expectant kinsmen looked into their faces and read the tale of their despair so readily from the drawn skin and sunken eyes that they groaned. the glow of the west fell into the greyness of ashes, as a camp fire falls when all the women sleep. then the dark came over the eastern hills. far into the night the braves and old men sat about the fires, the smile of god then ceased. overcome by his fanatical emotions, he had fallen into a swoon. and he had a dream. he was alone upon the prairie and hunger was pinching his entrails. then there came a bison bull toward him, roaring through the silence. he raised his bow, and with sure aim, sent an arrow singing into the heart of the beast. then the air grew black, save for a blue light as of dying fires. the bison began to change form! its hind legs grew short and crooked; its fore legs became long and lean and sinewy like the arms of a starving man. its body dwindled, dwindled—and it was human! its head became indistinct and wavered as in a haze. then it grew boldly up in the ghastly light and the face was the face of shanugahi with the idiot leer! . the vision whirled giddily and sank into the dizzy darkness. with a cry as of one stabbed in his sleep, ashun- hunga sprang from his blanket and rushed out of his tepee. those who sat about the smouldering fires, startled from their dumb terror by the cry, raised their eyes and gazed upon the face of the medicine- man as he passed. they did not speak, but the ques- tion on their faces was “who?" " it is shanugahi!” said ashunhunga in an awing whisper. “it is shanugahi whom wakunda hates! he has brought the curse upon us!” the ill-shapen bronze mass of flesh that was sha- nugahi lay curled up in sleep in the shadow of a tepee. suddenly his sleep was broken by a heavy ma the lonesome trail hand reaching out of the darkness. he shook him- self, raised his head and gazed about. he saw the faces of a number of braves indistinct in the dim glow of the fires. nearby a pony stood ready for a rider. then a strange voice close to his ear, whis- pered hoarsely: “fly! fly! the black spirits of the dead are about you! the curse of wakunda is upon you! fly! fly!” shanugahi stared about him, then turned his mean- ingless eyes upon his tribesmen and leered. strong arms seized him and placed him astride the wait- ing pony. someone lashed the animal across the haunches, and it plunged down the valley into the blackness of the night. when the dazed rider had gone some distance, the meaning of the whispered words came upon him. cold sweat sprang out on his limbs. he glanced about him, and the night was swarming with de- mons ! his shriek cut the stillness like a knife of ice! he grasped the mane of the pony with a convulsive clasp. he dashed his heels into the flanks of the terrified brute! the lone gulches thundered with the beat of hoofs. bushes flew past, and each was a pursuing black spirit ! shanugahi clung closely to the pony's back, hiding his face in its tossing mane, clasping its neck with the strength of madness, pressing its ribs with his knees until the straining animal groaned with pain and fright. through valleys, over hills, down the lonesome trail leade motionless, he stood like a being of the black depths praying for mercy from the shining heights. then he uttered two words. “wakunda! tae!” (o god! bison !) the staring wolves, moved by the wild voice, raised their noses to the heavens with a howl, and slunk away into the gulches. the sun rose higher and higher, and shanugahi breathed into his veins the laughing gold of the morning. with all the simplicity of his nature, he forgot the terror of the night. it was to him as some vague dream, dreamed many summers past. yet the one fixed idea of find. ing the bison swayed his whole being. his hunger had reached that stage in which it acts like a heavy draught of some subtle intoxicant. the stupor of days past had been changed into a joyous and even hopeful delirium. and as he looked upon the sun, to him it was the smile of wakunda! now he would find the bison. he caught his pony, grazing near by, and leaping upon its back, urged its stiffened limbs into a jog and took the lonesome stretch of prairie with song upon his lips. all day the pony jogged across the prairie at an easy pace toward the west. at that time of the evening when the coolness comes with the dew, and the bugs awake with drowsy hummings among the grasses, shanugahi caught a roaring sound as of some sullen storm that thunders beneath the horizon. he checked his pony and placing his hands to his ears, listened intently. he knew the sound! dis- the smile of god mounting, he crawled to the top of a hill and gazed into a broad valley. as far as he could see, straining his eyes, the valley was black with bison! for a moment he stood spell- bound; then a great joy lashed his blood into a frenzy. he rushed to his pony and mounting, turned its head to the east. the night came down, and still shanugahi held his pony to a fast gallop. his brain whirled giddily. now he had found the bison! his people would not starve. he sang and shouted and laughed until his voice broke into a cackle! the delirium of the rider was caught by the pony. with all the might of long generations of prairie herds, it sent the thundering hills and valleys under its feet. at that time of the morning when the east grows pale, and sleep is the deepest, the famished tribe, having moved a weary day's journey westward, was sleeping heavily. suddenly a hoarse shout shattered their dreams and made the hills clamorous with echoes ! the whole camp leaped from its blankets and stared with blinking eyes in the direction of the shout. there, upon the brow of a hill that overlooked the camp, stood a horse and rider set in bold relief against the pale sky of morning. with a long, bony arm the rider pointed to the westward and again he cried in a weak, broken voice: “ tae! tae!” (bison ! bison!) xvi the heart of a woman | he council of the fathers sat in the big lodge with very grave faces, for they had - come together to pass judgment upon the deed of a woman. as they passed the pipe about the circle, there were no words; for in the silence the good spirits may speak, and well they knew that it is a big thing to sit in judgment. and after a time of silence and deep thought, the door-flap of the lodge was pushed aside by two who came—an old man bent with many loads, and a woman in whose eyes the spring still lived. and when the two had sat down without the circle, the head chief spoke: “let the man speak first.” then the old man, who had brought the woman, arose. " fathers, you see a man with a sad heart, for i have brought my daughter before you for judgment. the things which she has told me i could have buried very deep in my breast; but i am old, and the wis- dom of the old is mine. who can bury a bad thing deeper than the spirits see? “and so i am here to make sharp words against myself, for the father and the child are one. “you remember that the season of singing frogs the heart of a woman warrior, and shrieked like arrows, and thundered like many pony hoofs, and wailed like the women when the band comes back with dead braves across the backs of ponies. and as he made it sing this song, even we who were wise leaped to our feet and drew forth our weapons and shouted the war cry of our people—so great was the song. and when our shouting ceased, the man made the medicine box sing low and sweet and thin like a woman crying over a sick zhinga zhinga [baby] in the night. and we forgot the battle cries; we gave tears like old women. “do you remember? this is the man of whom i speak. “many young moons grew old and passed away, and still he lived among us, until, lo! he was even as our kinsman, for he learned the tongue of our people, being great of wit. “and he told us of a wanderer whose own people were unkind to him; a tale of one who was not of the people of whom he was born, because he loved the spirits that sing, more than a very rich man loves his herds of ponies blackening many hills where they graze. and it was of himself he told; he was the wanderer. so we loved him because of this and be- cause of his kind words and because of the song which he made in his medicine box. “and all the while my girl here was growing taller-very good to see. many times i said to my woman, 'there is something growing between these the lonesome trail two.' and we both saw it with glad hearts, for he was a great man. “and one night in my first sleep i was awakened by a crying of sorrows better to hear than laughter- a moan that grew loud and fell again into softness like a night wind wailing in a lonesome place where thickets grow. and my woman beside me whispered, • it is the spirits singing.' but the girl here only breathed very hard. i could hear her breathing in the darkness. " and i got up; i pushed the skin flap aside; i stood as though i were in a dream. for there by the tepee stood the man with the singing box at his neck. his long, white fingers worked upon the sinews; his arm drew the hair-stick up and down. his face looked to the sky and the white fires of the night were upon it. never had i seen such a face; for it was not a man's face nor yet a woman's. it was the face of a good man's spirit come back from the star-paths. i looked at his lips, for it seemed that the singing grew up from his mouth; but his lips were very still. "and my eyes made tears; for many forgotten sorrows came back to me at once, and i felt a great kindness for all things, which i could not understand. “and when he dropped his arm and looked at me, his eyes threw soft, white fire into my breast, and then i knew the singing was not for me. once when my woman was young and still in the lodge of her father, i looked upon her with such a look. the heart of a woman “so i gave the girl to the paleface; and for a time the singing box was still; for they made a silent music between them. and before the first frosts made the hills shiver, the palefaces who trade for furs came to our village, and the man went with them; and with him went the woman. no man can be deaf to the call of his kind; so he went. and now the woman shall speak, and you shall judge her deed." the old man sat down and rested his face in his hands. the young woman arose to her feet. with lips parted the chiefs bent forward to catch the words which should fall from her mouth. tall and thin she was, and shapely. but the shadows of a great toil and a great sorrow clung about her lean cheeks and under her black eyes, grown too big with much weeping. “fathers," she began, “i will tell you how my bad deed grew upon me; and you shall judge. i will take the punishment, for i have felt much aching of the breast and i can stand yet a little more. “three summers ago i followed the man of the singing box into the north. this you know—but the rest you do not know. it is the way of the pale- face to toil for the white metal. they showed my man the white metal, and it led him into the north among strange peoples, where there is much gather- ing of furs. and i went with him, for a woman is weak and must follow the man. "far into the north we went where the smoky the lonesome trail runs man can water runs thin so that a very little man can throw a stone across it. and the singing box went with us. “and we built a lodge of logs, after the manner of his people, near to a great log lodge where the big pale chief lived and said words that should be obeyed. and for a time our hearts sang together. but when the snows had come, it happened that the big pale chief spoke a word, and my man went with his brothers, driving many dogs further into the north where there are furs of much worth. “and when my man left he said, “take good care of vylin while i am gone, for she is dearer to me than my life.' and i stared at him because i did not understand. it was the singing box of which he spoke; as though it were a person he spoke of it; he called it vylin; and much i wondered. “but because my heart was warm toward the man, i did acts of kindness to the singing box, which he called vylin; for i had not yet learned that it was no box of wood, but the spirit of a dead woman of the palefaces. “through the long cold nights i held it close to me under the blankets. and often in the night i was awakened by its crying when in my sleep i touched it strongly. like a zhinga zhin ga [baby] it cried; and my heart was softened toward it, for i had no child then. through the days i talked to vylin. i washed it much that it might be clean and of a good smell. and often it made soft sounds the heart of a woman like a zhinga zhinga that is glad. then would i hold it to my dry breasts and sing to it. " but more and more i learned that it was no box of wood, but a living thing. for i began to see that it had the shape of a woman. its neck was very slender; its head was small; and its hair fell in four little braids across its neck and breast down to its hips. and the more i learned, the more my breast ached; for he loved vylin, and her voice was sweeter for singing than my voice. and i thought much of how she sang for him alone. and i said, 'she does not sing for me—only for him does she sing; there- fore she loves him well.' “when the grass came again and the ice broke up, my man came back with the furs and the dogs and the men. they came floating down the river on big canoes. and i sang when he came again into his lodge, for the winter had been long. also, i showed him how kind i had been to vylin; i thought he would be very glad. but he frowned and spoke sharp words. he said it was wrong to wash vylin. my breast ached; i could not understand. does not a good mother wash her zhinga zhinga, that it may be clean and of a good smell? i had no zhinga zhinga then, and so i had been a mother to vylin. “and when i told him this, he laughed a very harsh laugh, and said it was vylin, not a zhinga zhinga; so that i was sad until he spoke a very soft word, then i forgot for many days. “but as the grass grew taller and the scent of the heart of a woman m heart was soft. i took good care of vylin; i was kind to her, for at last i thought that she would be second in his heart. i pitied her as i thought this. i washed her no more, but ever through the frosty nights i kept her warm with many blankets, even though i shivered. “and when the grass came my man came also. and another came, a nu zhinga [boy]. but my man looked with cold eyes upon my zhinga zhinga; so i wept many nights, many, many nights. and much weeping made me not good to see. so the man looked upon me no more; only upon vylin did he look. with very soft eyes did he look upon her; with such eyes did he look upon me in the old days. “my heart grew very bitter. often i heard him talking soft talk to her—such as he talked to me in the old times. and i wished to tear her hair, her yellow hair from her head! i wished to kill her, to walk upon her, to hear her groan, to see her die!” the woman's eyes flashed a battle light. her hands were clenched, her face was sharp and cruel. very tall she grew in her anger-a mother of fighting men. " and that night,” she said, “i threw angry words at the man. i spoke bad things of vylin. i called great curses down upon her. and i said: 'she sings, but does she bring you sons to feed you when you are old?' and he laughed with a harsh sound. .“ so that night when the man slept i got up very xvii mignon ut, yellow fox," i protested, “no one understands them; they do not understand themselves ! " yellow fox grunted and smiled, showing a very white set of wolfish teeth. we two were sitting together outside the lodge, and, male-like, we had hit upon the topic of woman. the locust-like ca- dences of the songs and the shuffle of dancing feet came muffled to us. the scent of boiling beef and the good smoke-tang of wood fires permeated the sultry night air, lifting my not overcivilised fancy back into the spacious star-hung feast rooms of the dead years, where big-boned, brawny, fighting men in- dulged their lusts for steaming haunches. the full moon lifted a rabelaisian face of lusty red above the hills, and i saw by its light the eager spirit of the story-teller bright in the eyes of yellow fox. “what they understand i do not know," he began; “i only know i do not understand. and i have travelled far. when i was a young man, many strange valleys knew my feet, and from many hill- tops my eyes looked forth. for from my first moc- casins my feet caught the itch for going. and in many villages of strange peoples i have lived for the lonesome trail little spaces, until the feasts were tasteless and the maidens ugly. then did my moccasins itch my feet again, so that i went forth and sought new feasts, other maidens. “and i have known many maidens. none of them did i understand; and least of all-mignon. “even to-night something of the soft summer smell of her is in my nose; and if i were not old i would walk far, walk far; for that smell is like a voice calling over big waters and many valleys—a voice so far away that the ear does not catch it—so thin that it is no sound, but a feeling. “have i told you how that a white man came to our lands once and led me on a long, strange trail? it happened so. he was a keeper of many strange men and many horses and many strange animals, and for money he showed these to many peoples, and so grew rich. “and the man showed me much money; he told me of new lands and new peoples; he spoke of feasts, of women that were as dreams. therefore, i felt the itch in my feet again, and i went with the man. and we came at last to many big tepees, where the man kept the strange things that he showed to the people for money. one of his tepees was as big as the village of a tribe-and he had many. “i had my place among all these strange things; for the white man said: you are the wild man that growls like a bear and eats babies. i give you money and you must look very wild and growl much when mignon and thin, they were. she passed them over the muscles of my breast; she stroked my arms. soft as a mother's touch was hers; like a mother's touch -but i felt a fire burning at her finger tips, that made me wish to fight big men for her, and make them bleed and make them groan and make them die, slobbering blood in the dust! then afterward to take her far away, thrown across my back like a dead fawn; to build a lodge for her in a lonesome place where man's face never was! “much hair she had—much hair that hung above her face like a dark cloud upon a white sky at even- ing. and it brushed across my breast! i shivered as in a wind that drives the snow before it-and yet i was not cold. “and then she was gone-swallowed up in the river of people. but not all of her was gone. a smell sweeter than the earth-smell when the spring rains fall was in my nostrils! a smell that gnawed within me like a hunger—yet i did not wish to eat! a smell of soft, white flesh-oh, very soft and white ! and now in my old age i call that smell mignon. " and the people, like a noisy, muddy stream, flowed round me, past me. but i growled no more; for i did not wish for fun. i hated them—they stank! an ache like the ache for home was upon me; an ache like the ache of a man who smells the home-smoke in a dream and wakes far off from home. “two sunlights passed—and in the evening i stood under many lights, bound with the iron thongs; the lonesome trail and the noisy, stinking stream of people was about me. their staring eyes were as many bugs that swarmed about and stung me. i strained at the iron thongs; i hurled the black curses of my people in among them and they were pleased. but this was no play; i wished to rush among them and walk upon them; for i had seen, and now no longer did i see. “but suddenly the smell came back! it grew up like the smell of spring when the ice makes thunder in the rivers and the flowers come out! and she was there beside me. “i forgot the people; i was no longer angry. i was in a big lonesome prairie with the sunlight and the singing winds, and she was with me, and all the air seemed soft and cool as when a black-winged raincloud shuts out a day of heat. “i can feel her hands upon me yet." as yellow fox sighed. a passionate outburst of song from the dancers within filled the quiet night with sounds of longing, through which the cowhide drums throbbed feverishly, like a heart. “and the words she spoke were soft. they made me wish to shout the mating songs of my people. they made me very strong. and then i learned her name-mignon. “mignon! mignon! such a sound the spring winds make among the first leaves; and yet it is not all a sound; it is part a smell ! mignon “ and after that she came often; every evening she came, like a south wind blowing over prairies sweet with rain at sunset. many things she asked me and i told her many things. i made with my mouth a picture of my own lands; and some of it she put in a little book, and some she only drank with all her face, as though she was thirsty. “and they who had travelled far with us, the pitchers of the tepees and the tenders of the animals, laughed softly in passing, showing their teeth in mirth—for were they not jealous ? “one night she did not come. and it happened on that night that the big tepees were folded up for another trail; and in the morning we were far away. my breast cried out for her; my nose longed for the smell which was mignon. “so i spoke of her to the pitchers of the tepees, and they laughed very loud and long, sending forth breaths that stank as they laughed. they said bad things of mignon. they said, ' can you not under- stand? she is of those that her people have cast out.' and this made my breast cry out for her again; for was i not also alone? were not my own people far away? but the rest of it i knew to be another white man's lie! one liar i struck very hard in the teeth; and when he got up from the dust, slobbering blood and toddling like a baby, he laughed no more and said no more bad things of mignon. and was this not proof that he had lied ? “ is the first earth-smell of the spring bad? had the lonesome trail not many maidens of the prairies longed for me; and were they not good? was i not big and of heavy muscles? was i not young and good for the eyes of women? “since i am old and much withered, i can say this; for i have become another man." the song of the women-singers within had ceased, but the sullen drums kept up a throbbing snarl. at length the voice of yellow fox continued in a low monotone: “we stopped in many big villages; and my breast was sick. more and more i wished for the prairies. at night i heard the dry winds singing in the grasses. i spoke no more of mignon, for i was afraid to hear again the laughter of the pitchers of the tepees. one more laugh would have made my eyes blind with blood, and i would have killed. “i lost the wish to eat; i grew shadow-thin. so the owner of the tepees said: “this wild man is dying for a sight of his prairies; i will send him back.' “i travelled far, and again i was in my own land. i saw the hills; i smelled the smoke of the fires of my people. but this no longer filled me. i had seen, and now no longer could i see. . “ and the winter came. i sat alone much, and as i sat alone, i had big thoughts. i said: “this that i have seen was a dream thing. it is gone; and i cannot find the sleep trail that leads to it again. mignon therefore, i will do as others. i will take a woman of my own people. i will eat again; for this dream has only made me thin.' “so i made a young woman of my people glad. i took her into my lodge. but even through the time of driving snows, i smelled the smell of spring. mignon! mignon! i heard the rain winds singing in the first leaves! mignon! mignon! i heard the sighing of summer waters! mignon! mignon ! it was half a sound and half a smell—dream sound, dream smell—so thin, so thin! “and the time came when the big swift arrows of the geese flew northward, spreading softness as of many camp fires in all the air; and the river wakened and shook itself, shouting with a hoarse voice into the south. the green things came, and there was a singing of frogs where the early rains made pools. the smell, which was mignon, breathed up out of the earth; the sound, which was mignon, lived in the trees and grasses. “and then the time came when it is no longer the spring, and not yet quite the summer. one evening i sat before my lodge, smoking and thinking big thoughts. and the sun was low. a dust cloud grew far down the road that twisted like a yellow snake toward the village of the white men. it was a waggon coming. it grew bigger; a white man was driving it. it came near; there was a woman in it. i stared very hard; i rubbed my eyes, for what i saw was as though it had all grown up out of my pipe smoke. mignon the trail. i rolled up my tepee. all the while my woman stared upon the woman who had come, with eyes made sharp with hate. i called in my ponies from the grazing places. i hitched a pony to the drag. i put upon the drag the tepee and the food and the little box that mignon had brought with her -a box of many garments-garments that made songs when she walked, like the songs of rain in the leaves. i lifted mignon upon the drag-pony's back, and we rode away on the summer trail. “i heard my woman wailing and crying out bit- terly in my lodge, but a spirit led me on—the spirit that calls the green things out in the spring—the spirit that whispers into the ear of the sleeping river and makes it leap up and shout and tear the thongs that bind it—the spirit that makes the wolves cry cut in the lonesome places that the mate may hear. that spirit went calling down the trail i fol- lowed. “and we came to a place by the river where the hills were high and many leaves made coolness. there i pitched the tepee; and the days were as little flashes of light, and the nights were as little shadows passing. “never before had i found it so good to live. mignon made songs that laughed and cried; and when she did not sing, the rustle of her garments was a song. i became as a squaw; i brought the wood and water; i made the fires; i cooked. i was bowed before her. never before had i bowed before any- mignon pooked upon herd she turned up called her darkness. one hand felt warm and wet; i raised it to my nose and it was blood. and then i heard a gasping for breath and a sound of gurgling. i put my hand upon the breast of mignon—and it was wet with blood! “i scraped the embers together and made a little flame. i looked upon her face and it had the look of death. eyes that ached she turned upon me. i stopped the blood with torn garments. i called her soft names and she clutched my fingers. then she was very quiet. i could hear leaves dropping out in the night. " and when the face of the night turned grey, she opened her eyes that were hot and dry. with very weak hands she drew my ear close to her lips. she breathed a little broken piece of song—a baby song -a song of the mothers of her people. and when i looked upon her again, her face was pinched, her eyes stared.” yellow fox lapsed into another prolonged silence. the dancers and singers in the lodge had ceased. a heavy, sultry silence filled the night. when he spoke again his voice came low and muffled: “i buried her after the manner of my people. i sang the songs of the dead. above her grave i killed the pony that she rode. and then i went away upon the trail that was no more the trail of summer. but the winds in the grasses sang her name. mignon! mignon! i heard the rain winds xviii a political coup at little omaha he struggle for congressional honours in the third district of nebraska was to be a hard one. the white voters of the dis- trict were about evenly divided between the two parties, and therefore the necessary elective ma- jority was to be found among the omaha indians, whose reservation lies in this district. so this remnant of the dark ages became of pivotal importance in twentieth century politics; and it was here, in the wildest land of the district, that the decisive battle of strategy must be fought. for practical purposes, the intelligent white voter ceased to exist, and there was only a slothful, igno- rant band of semi-savages who should choose by chance the national representative of educated thou- sands. the typical reservation indian is primarily a stomach, and secondarily nothing in particular. let him fill his belly and he is easily handled. this axiom had been taken as a basis for action by the whiphands of the democratic party, who, accord- ingly, scattered broadcast throughout the reservation considerable quantities of the meat of superannuated the lonesome trail bulls; sat in the feasts with cross-legged condescen- sion; smoked the reeking stone pipes; drank hot soup with the suppressed shudders of a revolting stomach, and called the brown men“ brothers.” this had all worked very well in the latter days of september, and there had been considerable re- joicing in local democratic circles over the bright prospects for a sweeping majority. it was not until the first of october that the oppo- sition suddenly hurled a thunderbolt out of the blue sky of its seemingly serene inactivity. the agent, holding his appointment under a republican adminis- tration, announced at a weekly land payment that $ , of the considerable sum held in trust by the government would be paid pro rata to the omahas during the month. it was after this an- nouncement that the local leaders of the republican party became active. they explained to their brothers how surpassingly good it was of them to bring about this payment. would their brothers forget this at the november election? of course not! so it happened that the bull meat lost its power of persuasion and for several weeks there was not a brown democrat on the reserve. thus, at the open- ing of the big payment on a monday morning two weeks before election, the democratic candidate for congress found himself staring defeat in the face (which was brown) after having enjoyed several weeks of victory (which was premature). a coup at little omaha the “big payment " has always been picturesque and is now fast becoming impossible. it may be defined as the spectacular bow of the present to the past, with which civilisation lowers its proud plume and says to the savage age: “sorry i swiped your land; take that and don't feel sore!" or words to that effect. the opening days of the big payment were warm with the lazy warmth of the mellow, golden hours of late october. the untilled hills of the reserva- tion thrust themselves up into the autumn glare, unashamed of their poverty of soil. the agency building nestled forlornly in a creek valley sur- rounded by the yellow, wrinkled hills. in the early morning a lazy string of vehicles be- gan to pour into the agency from the dozen or more roads that outraged the compass with their crazy windings, and seamed the bronze face of the prairie with ugly scars. carts, buggies, waggons, carriages, some of glaring newness, weighted down to the axles with squaws, papooses and the inevitable mort- gage; others in an epileptic stage of decay, with the weary air of having borne the weight of outlawed paper for many moons; ponies, long-haired, and emaciated with many unconsoling feeds of post and halter, carrying at once upon their sawlike backs their sweating, heavy masters, and (heavier than these) the seeming consciousness of long-dishonoured promissory notes; these constituted the grotesque republican procession that streamed into little a coup at little omaha long-haired, shambling mortgages and disappeared in a cloud of dust. the omaha is a genius for contracting debts. at the beginning of the big payment, the aggregate debts of the tribe were roughly estimated at $ , , the living representative of long-digested groceries, starved ponies, shattered vehicles and for- gotten alcoholic debauches. the government, in the wisdom of blindness, had caused large placards to be posted at the entrances to the agency grounds, bearing this order: “no col- lector of any description shall be allowed within a radius of half a mile from the pay station." accord- ingly, the burly indian police strutted about in blue clothes and brass buttons obstreperously hustling the white creditors over the half-mile line, where they lounged in disconsolate groups along the dusty high- way, playing mumble-peg, pitching horseshoes, and verbally sending the entire tribe to the devil. “be cussed if i don't hate to see the twentieth century kicked downstairs this way by the dark ages! cussed if i don't!” thus a little wiry, pale- faced undertaker was heard to exclaim. his name was comfort and he appeared to be a positive misery both to himself and to the delinquent relatives of the many good indians he had laid away. beside the little undertaker, there were lawyers, bankers' clerks, grocerymen, liverymen, middlemen, butchers, doctors, and a half dozen politicians, there for the purpose of whipping the brown voters into a coup at little omaha “ owes me $ . with interest for four years !" “me $ and interest-outlawed!” “ i've got the old cuss's note for fifty!”. “i buried his fourth and sixth wives," squeaked the little undertaker, “ seven and nine years ago, respectively!” such exclamations ran down the line like a volley in different variations of vocal emphasis. “wonder how he's votin'," mused the hungry wolf of a politician. “to the devil with politics ! ” roared the bear of a middleman; “i want the rent back i advanced him!” at that moment mr. rainwalker was seen to leave the station, mount his pony, and proceed down the dusty road toward the half-mile line. it had doubt. less occurred to him that during past winters it had been necessary to eat, and he was coming forth to make peace with the groceryman. at sight of the approaching debtor, the lounging line of creditors sprang to its feet and stood at atten- tion. the grocer, who spoke the omaha tongue fluently and had a snug fortune laid away in conse- quence, walked rapidly in advance of the others and met mr. rainwalker at the line, followed by the straggling crowd of expectant creditors like a trail- ing cloud of hungry crows. mr. rainwalker had a large, round, pockmarked face that looked for the world like a pumpkin pie overbaked by a careless cook, with a monstrous nose the lonesome trail in the centre of it. he sat placidly upon his pony, that had all the salient points of a starved cow, and dozed luxuriously at the shortest halt. the old chief seemed the visible body of an optimistic joke, sitting upon the bone heap of a tragedy! the grocer had barely collected the greater share of the old man's check, when he became the centre of a noisy, gesticulating crowd of creditors. it was the chatter of the crows about the carrion. “you know you promised me that you would settle that note!" said the goatlike bank clerk in his bleating voice. “how about that rent money i advanced, rain- walker? ” roared the bearlike middleman. “i want my money for them wives i buried for you—two of 'em!” squeaked the scorpionlike under- taker, holding up two explanatory fingers and thrust- ing his thin, pale face into the melee. “ugh!" the old man answered rather unsatis- factorily. “if you don't pay me," shrieked the incensed little undertaker, “i'll go right out on the hill and dig up them boxes, by god!” “muska ningay!” (no money) said the old man. “no pay 'em chil'n's money tall. all time lie to us. goan votem dimmiticrat, guess.". and with this statement, bearing with it the fate of a national representative, the old chief kicked the tenacious slumber out of his pony and rode back to the agency. a coup at little omaha “eh?" ejaculated the politician; “ votin' demo- cratic, eh? well, i'll be cussed! it'll snow us under! why in thunder do they refuse to pay the money to the minor children? i tell you, gentlemen, it'll snow us under!” “drat politics ! ” squeaked the little undertaker. “ wisht i'd a-buried 'em all afore now. cussed if i don't go right out on that there hill and dig them boxes up!" the day wore on with an alarming recrudescence of democracy among the red men (who are not red, but chocolate). in the afternoon, the little under- taker chased white horse, another leading man of the tribe, into the brush and returned with a broad grin upon his face. “ beats the devil! ” ejaculated the thin politician, “where a body sometimes finds merriment! how's he votin', comfort?” “votin' democrat—the whole cussed posse of 'em! but i don't give a cuss—democrat or re- publican money's all the same to me. i got $ ; one of his kids i planted five years ago; died of cuban itch; four-foot pine box! he, he, he! i don't give a cuss how they're votin'." that night there was a meeting of republican politicians at the agency office. a most alarming landslide had begun that day, bearing disaster to the ranks of the grand old party. “some more of those confounded departmental rulings ! " exclaimed the agent to the company pres- the lonesome trail ent. “it's this grandmotherly solicitude for the indian that makes him an irresponsible scamp. why, if the government had turned them all loose to sink or swim a decade ago, natural law would, by this time, have solved the much mooted indian question. but what are we to do?” and the agent stroked his van dyke beard in perplexity. “we've got to do something," said the lean wolf with the body like a question mark; "and there's only one thing to doget meekleman here. you remember how he wheedled them into line four years ago. if there's a man in the world who can bring them around, it's meekleman. and we'd better get mcbarty here, too. the two of them may be able to kick up a successful powwow.” charles d. meekleman was a nebraska politician who was almost a statesman, and had held important positions in washington official circles. mcbarty was the republican candidate for congress. it was decided that they should be sent for at once. it was friday evening when the two great men arrived; and upon saturday morning they came forth and allowed themselves to be gazed upon freely. mcbarty was a heavy-set, middle-sized man, with an earnest expression of countenance, and the rather bewildered air of a candidate being led forth to sacrifice for the first time. meekleman was tall, superbly built, clad in the faultless manner and bear- ing about him that air of refinement which had won him from his rural constituents the name of “gen- a coup at little omaha are not too good, he says, to smoke and eat with us, he says. he likes you pretty much, guess." the old chief talked again for some time, and then lapsed into dignified silence. “he says," continued the youth, “that you have lived in the same lodge with the big father at wash- ington, and you can get the money for the chil'ns, he guess. that's what he says." “tell my dear brother," said meekleman, “ that my heart is warm toward my brown brothers, and that the children shall have their money. tell him that i played with the big father when he was a little boy, and that i know the big father would be terribly angry if he knew that the children had been refused their money. tell him that i will see that they get it.” this short speech translated, sent a murmur of joy around the circle. white horse arose from the opposite side of the circle and brought a cup of hot soup to his white brother as a special favour. “and now," said meekleman, arising majestically as befitted the erstwhile playmate of the president, “i shall introduce to you mr. mcbarty. he will go to washington for you and he will do many good things for the omahas.” mr. mcbarty came forth and fell to shaking the brown hands of the grown-up children. he started with rainwalker, who carefully rubbed his left hand upon his blanket before presenting it to the future saviour of his race. then after having shaken all a coup at little omaha is not in the valleys any more, nor on the hills. we cannot talk to the big white wakunda. what can we old men say to our foolish people when they need wise words ? every day they are more like badgers. they eat much, drink firewater, and are very foolish. but we have these white brothers and we will listen to them. their wisdom is the new wisdom; we will listen to them.” “ah, ah!" assented the listeners. for an hour the circle sat staring into the flame, thinking of the old times. then without a word, rainwalker and white horse arose and passed out of the lodge and the others followed. “well," said meekleman to mcbarty, as they walked along the lonesome road toward the agency, “i have the honour to address the hon. james mcbarty!" the other did not answer for several minutes. “meekleman,” said mcbarty at length,“ don't you suppose i can do something for these poor devils ? " “ah, mcbarty," returned meekleman, “i am afraid you will never be a politician!”. upon the following monday morning when the tribe gathered for the continuation of the big pay- ment, the news began to circulate that the great white man had gone to see the big father at washington about the payment of the money to the minor chil- dren. as this news was authenticated by white horse and rainwalker themselves, it was readily the lonesome trail the horse with the whiplash; “lather up there! ” and the horse dashed about the circle until its flanks were dripping and its mouth was white with foam. at length the man took out his watch, saw that it was : o'clock, and untying the lariat, he mounted and put the spurs to his already jaded animal, dashing at a furious pace down the dusty old trail toward the agency. a few moments later mcbarty and the judge caught sight of a furious rider dashing toward them in a cloud of dust. “who do you suppose that can be riding so fast? ” said the judge. “oh,” said mcbarty, smiling broadly, “that, judge, is merely my election coming up at the gallop!” amid dust and yelling and a general spectacular confusion the horseman dashed up to the door of the pay station, threw his horse on its haunches in stop- ping, and cried: “a telegram from washington for the agent!” in a few moments a great crowd of indians had gathered about the horse and rider. the agent, with a smile upon his face, rushed out of the station and seized a bit of yellow paper that the rider held in his hand. breathlessly the crowd of omahas waited. "listen ! " shouted a crier in the omaha tongue, standing by the agent, who was reading the tele- gram. “the big father at washington sends this the lonesome trail his return would find his most valuable possessions untouched. i tell you, gentlemen, the indian is like a prairie flower that has been transplanted from the blue sky and the summer sun and the pure winds into the steaming, artificial atmosphere of the hothouse! a glass roof is not the blue sky! man's talent is not god's genius! that is why you are looking at a perverted growth. “look into an indian's face and observe the ruins of what was once manly dignity, indomitable energy, masterful prowess! when i look upon one of these faces, i have the same thoughts as, when travelling in europe, i looked upon the ruins of rome. “everywhere broken arches, fallen columns, tumbled walls! yet through these as through a mist one can discern the magnificence of the living city. so in looking upon one of these faces, which are merely ruins in another sense. they were once as noble, as beautiful as— " in his momentary search for an eloquent simile, the minister paused. “as pumpkin pies !” added the newspaper man with a chuckle; and he whipped out his notebook and pencil to jot down this brilliant thought, for he had conceived a very witty “story” which he would pound out for the sunday edition. “well," said the agency physician, finally sucked into the whirlpool of discussion, “ it seems to me that there is no room for crowing on either side. indians are pretty much like white men; livers and kidneys the last thunder song and lungs, and that sort of thing; slight difference in the pigment under the skin. i've looked into the machinery of both species and find just as much room in one as the other for a soul!" “and both will go upward,” added the minister. “like different grades of tobacco," observed the indian agent, “ the smoke of each goes up in the same way." “just so," said the reporter; “but let us cut out the metaphysics. i wonder when this magical cuggie is going to begin his humid evolutions. lamentable, isn't it, that such institutions as rain prayers should exist on the very threshold of the twentieth century?" “ i think," returned the minister, “ that the twen- tieth century has no intention of eliminating god! this medicine-man's prayer, in my belief, is as sacred as the prayer of any churchman. the differ- ence between wakunda and god is merely ortho- graphical.” “but," insisted the cynical young man from the city, “i had not been taught to think of god as of one who forgets! do you know what i would do if i had no confidence in the executive ability of my god?” taking the subsequent silence as a question, the young man answered: “why, i would take a day off and whittle one out of wood!” “a youth's way is the wind's way," quoted the preacher, with a paternal air. the last thunder song cros of night. a clarion challenge shrilled across the years. never before in all the myriad moons had such a thing occurred. it was too great a cause to pro- duce an effect of grief, or anger. it stupefied. the old men and women sat motionless. they could not understand. with uneven step and with eyes that saw nothing, mahowari passed from among his kinsmen and tot- tered up the valley toward his lonesome shack and tepee upon the hillside. it was far past noon when the last of the older omahas left the scene of the dance. the greater number of the white men who had witnessed the last thunder dance of the omahas went homeward much pleased. the show had turned out quite funny indeed. “ha, ha, ha! did you see how surprised the old cuggy looked? he, he, he!” life, being necessarily selfish, argues from its own standpoint. but as the minister rode slowly toward his home there was no laughter in his heart. he was saying to himself: “if the whole fabric of my belief should suddenly be wrenched from me, what then?” even this question was born of selfishness, but it brought pity. in the cool of the evening the minister mounted his horse and rode to the home of mahowari, which was a shack in the winter and a tepee in the summer. dismounting, he threw the bridle reins upon the the lonesome trail ground, and raised the door flap of the tepee. ma- howari sat cross-legged upon the ground, staring steadily before him with unseeing eyes. “how!” said the minister. the old indian did not answer. there was no expression of grief or anger or despair upon his face. he sat like a statue. yet, the irregularity of his breathing showed where the pain lay. an indian suffers in his breast. his face is a mask. the minister sat down in front of the silent old man and, after the immemorial manner of ministers, talked of a better world, of a pitying christ, and of god, the great father. for the first time the indian raised his face and spoke briefly in english: “god? he dead, guess!” then he was silent again for some time. suddenly his eyes lit up with a light that was not the light of age. the heart of his youth had awak- ened. the old memories came back and he spoke fluently in his own tongue, which the minister under- stood. “these times are not like the old times. the young men have caught some of the wisdom of the white man. nothing is sure. it is not good. i can- not understand. everything is young and new. all old things are dead. many moons ago, the wisdom of mahowari was great. i can remember how my father said to me one day when i was yet young and all things lay new before me: ‘let my son go to a high hill and dream a great dream'; and i went up raised his cat father. fini, pitying christ he dead briefly in ime the ind: the last thunder song in the evening and cried out to wakunda and i slept and dreamed. “i saw a great cloud sweeping up from under the horizon, and it was terrible with lightning and loud thunder. then it passed over me and rumbled down the sky and disappeared. and when i awoke and told my people of my dream, they rejoiced and said: 'great things are in store for this youth. we shall call him the passing cloud, and he shall be a thunder man, keen and quick of thought, with the keenness and quickness of the lightning; and his name shall be as thunder in the ears of men.' and i grew and believed in these sayings and i was strong. but now i can see the meaning of the dream-a great light and a great noise and a passing." the old man sighed, and the light passed out of his eyes. then he looked searchingly into the face of the minister and said, speaking in english: “you white medicine-man. you pray?”. the minister nodded. mahowari turned his gaze to the ground and said wearily: “white god dead too, guess." xx the nemesis of the deuces vrenchy called for two cards and reached for a glass and the bottle. his head swam - dizzily. the clinking of glasses at the bar smote upon his ears like gongs. he was about to risk upon one “show-down " the realisation of a five- years' dream. he felt certain of losing; that was the strange thing about it. yet somewhere in the buzz- ing back of his head a compelling little devil whis- pered and he obeyed. he drank three big ones straight, and for a mo- ment things stood still and the buzzing ceased; but in the sudden silence the hissing of the little devil increased to a roaring like the river's in the june rise. “ all on the deuces!' all on the deuces! every damned cent!” that is what the little devil in the back of his head was howling now. “but if i lose it all—and wanting to go back home in the spring ?” that was the question his pounding heart hurled at the insistent little devil. “you won once- didn't you—didn't you? didn't you?” howled back the little devil jeer- ingly. “five hundred," said frenchy quietly. his bronze face had grown livid; his black eyes narrowed and the nemesis of the deuces to him that he was the centre of a silent hollowness; only a voice, that was rather an ache felt than a sound heard, kept up a pitiless jeering. “they'll stay—they'll stay,” shrieked the little devil; “your bluff won't work-you're a dead horse and they're crows-crows-crows!”. “they're weakening !” beat the heart of frenchy. “deuces—ha, ha! deuces! and they've both got face cards—deuces—ho, ho!-going home, eh? -win on deuces ?-ho, ho, ho-deuces !” the in- sistent devil laughed spitefully. “raise you five hundred more!” the words echoed and re-echoed in the lonesome hollowness. frenchy stared at his cards. “five hundred more!” frenchy winced and shivered. it seemed to him that a long, thin-bladed knife had reached out of the silent hollow that surrounded him and stabbed him twice in the breast. “ho, ho, ho!" went the little devil at the back of his head. “stay with 'em! put up the horses- everything on the deuces—ho, ho, ho!” “but i can lay down now and save the horses," urged the sick heart of frenchy. “you won on the deuces once!” shrieked the little devil; “ didn't you—didn't you?" frenchy now heard his own voice growing up out of the hollow. “taken: my five horses and outfit are good for it.” then he emerged from the soundless hollow and the lonesome trail was aware of the circle of glittering eyes staring down on the field whereon he had just staked five years of his life and his last cherished dream. “ full house-aces on queens.” frenchy heard the words and grinned exultantly. the little spiteful devil was silent. “ four kings!” frenchy dropped his cards face up and reached for the bottle. “ho, ho, hol” went the little devil, dancing all over his brain; "everything lost on the deuces—dead horse for the crows to pick he, he, he!” a ripple of exclamations ran about the circle of loungers as they leaned forward to see the hand upon which frenchy had staked all that he owned. “deuces! by the jumping-four dirty deuces ! ” “ deuces?” “four of 'em.” “how's that for a bluff?” “ fool play!" a buzzing undertone of comment filled the room and steadily grew into a chattering as of crows about a spot where something has just died. frenchy seemed not to hear; he was busy filling and refilling glasses. the man with the four kings quietly raked in his winnings. “and the horses ?” he sug- gested. frenchy set the drained glass down with a bang, and with a snake-like forward thrusting of the head leered hideously at the winner. “ can't you shut up the nemesis of the deuces about the horses?” he forced the words menac- ingly through his shut teeth. a hush fell 'upon the loungers as they looked upon the pinched, malignant face with the upper lip lifted quiveringly and the close-set teeth showing beneath. this was no longer the frenchy of legend; that frenchy had always been known as one who lost or won large sums with the utter nervelessness of a machine. this was no longer the face of frenchy— the gay, careless, haughty face of him who flirted with fortune. this was a new frenchyma terrible frenchy; with a coiled snake lurking just behind each glittering eyeball. this face sent a shiver through the crowd-like the sight of an ugly knife unsheathed in anger. the loungers with affected carelessness began to move away. with a lightning sweep of the hands frenchy drew his guns and banged them down vio- lently on the table before him. “ stay where you are, gentlemen!” he said; “ i'm going to talk and i want an audience. when i'm done talking, i'm off on the long trail and the first man that moves goes with me!” there had always been a winsome something in the voice of the man. it was now commanding, irre- sistible. the loungers stood still and stared dumb- founded upon this terrible new version of an old legend. frenchy picked up four cards from his hand and held them up fanwise before his enforced listeners. the nemesis of the deuces “i reeled in the saddle, yet the mad wish to live lashed my hands to the pommel. but this was only for a moment. the meanest worm that ever wrig- gled in a dunghill holds fast to his life. i forgot the kid again; i remembered only myself and that i must ride to win. i pulled the horse down and held him steady. never did i throw a leg across a better horse than the kid's-honest, rangy, clean-limbed and deep in the chest! my heart leaped with joy when i heard his long even breathing. i had a great delirious love for the big-hearted brute as i felt his long, even reach, the tireless rhythmic stride that throws the miles behind. the drifting red sea of smoke above cast the wild glare down upon the prai- rie and made the footing sure. i threw my guns away; i stripped off my coat and gave it to the wind. i knew what an extra pound might mean. “ an elk forged slowly past, his wide antlers tipped with light. an antelope sprang up and bounded away into the twilight ahead. a coyote leaped from a shoe-string clump; he cowered and whined like a whipped dog with his tail between his legs, then raced away down the wind. snorting shadows. began to move to right and left in the further gloom and disappear in the smoke-drift. i was now a part of the ragged edge of the flotsam tossed up by the approaching lip of the flood. i gave my horse another inch of rein and held him steady. the thunder in the rear grew louder; i could hear dimly the wild confusion of animal cries. uizr ‘ lilile" a tale of wild-riding herdsmen and outlaws, and their deeds of daring and deviltry the night horseman by max brand the author of “the untamed” and “trailin’,” in this novel, draws a vivid picture of wild adventure in the west, where skillful riding and quick shoot- ing were the faculties which counted in the struggle for life. randall byrne, a doctor by profes- sion, finds himself obliged to make a change in his method of life, on ac- count of a breakdown in health. arriving at a small town in a ranch- ing country, he is practically carried off to attend a sick man at a distant ranch and there comes in touch with “whistlin’ dan,” the mysteriously powerful silent man who controls hu- man beings and animals by his won- derful physical strength and weird mental power. there are desperate adventures and hair-breadth escapes, which keep the reader on edge. at the end, “whistlin’ dan” and kate cumberland depart on the call of the wild geese. it is a story of unpacified hate, of deadly fights, of wild riding by night, of fierce, passionate and overwhelming love, and is written in a way thrill_ ing in its reality, and makes a power- ful appeal to lovers of an exciting story. other books by max brand: the untamed trailin’ a. l. burt company publisher“ - new york ‘rnlph b. emery i l { main street l lringvale, maine \ iv ‘ rli s the night horseman by max brand author of “the untamed,” “trailin’,” etc. a. l. burt company publishers new york published by arrangement with g. p. putnam’s sons the night horseman chapter i the scnomn at the age of six randall byrne could name and bound every state in the union and give the date of its admission; at nine he was conversant with hom- eric greek and casar; at twelve he read aristo- phanes with perfect understanding of the allusions of the day and divided his leisure between ovid and horace; at fifteen, wearied by the simplicity of old english and thirteenth century italian, he dipped into the history of philosophy and passed from that, naturally, into calculus and the higher mathematics; at eighteen he took an ab. from har- vard and while idling away a pleasant summer with hebrew and sanscrit he delved lightly into biol- ogy and its kindred sciences, having reached the conclusion that truth is greater than goodness or beauty, because it comprises both, and the whole is greater than any of its parts; at twenty-one he pocketed his ph.d. and was touched with the fever of his first practical enthusiasm—surgery. at twenty-four he was an md. and a distinguished i the wild geese diagnostician, though he preferred work in his lab oratory in his endeavor to resolve the elements into simpler forms; also he published at this time a work on anthropology whose circulation was limited to two hundred copies, and he received in return two hundred letters of congratulation from great men who had tried to read his book; at twenty-seven he collapsed one fine spring day on the floor of his laboratory. that afternoon he was carried into the presence of a great physician who was also a very vulgar man. the great physician felt his pulse and looked into his dim eyes. “you have a hundred and twenty horsepower brain and a runabout body,” said the great physician. “i have come,” answered randall byrne faintly, “for the solution of a problem, not for the statement thereof.” ' “i’m not throug , said the great physician. “among other things you are a damned fool.” randall byrne here rubbed his eyes. “what steps do you suggest that i consider?” he queried. the great physician spat noisily. “marry a farmer’s daughter,” he said brutally “but,” said randall byrne vaguely. “i am a busy man and you’ve wasted ten minutes of my time," said the great physician, turning back to his plate glass window. “my secretary will send you a bill for one thousand dollars. good-day.” and therefore, ten days later, randall byrne sat in his room in the hotel at elkhead. !’ the scholar he had just written (to his friend swinnerton loughburne, m.a., ph.d., l.l.d.): “incontrover- tibly the introduction of the personal equation leads to lamentable inversions, and the perceptive faculties when contemplating phenomena through the lens of \ ego too often conceive an accidental connotation or manifest distortion to be actuality, for the physical (or personal) too often beclouds that power of in- ner vision which so unerringly penetrates to the in- herent truths of incorporeity and the extramundane. yet this problem, to your eyes, i fear, not essentially novel or peculiarly involute, holds for my contem- plative faculties an extraordinary fascination, to wit.: wherein does the mind, in itself a muscle, escape from the laws of the physical, and wherein and wherefore do the laws of the physical exercise so inexorable a jurisdiction over the processes of the mind, so that a disorder of the visual nerve act- ‘ ually distorts the asomatous and veils the pneumato- scopic? “your pardon, dear loughburne, for these lapses from the general to the particular, but in a lighter moment of idleness, i pray you give some careless thought to a problem now painfully my own, though rooted inevitably so deeply in the dirt of the com- monplace. “but you have asked me in letter of recent date for the particular physical aspects of my present environment, and though (as you so well know) it is my conviction that the physical fact is not and only the immaterial is, yet i shall gladly look about the wild geese me—a. thing i have not yet seen occasion to do— and describe to you the details of my present con- dition.” accordingly, at this point randall byrne removed from his nose his thick glasses and holding them poised he stared through the window at the view without. he had quite changed his appearance by removing the spectacles, for the owlish touch was gone and he seemed at a stroke ten years younger. it was such a. face as one is glad to examine in de- tail, lean, pale, the transparent skin stretched tightly over cheek-bones, nose, and chin. that chin was built on good fighting lines, though somewhat over- delicate in substance and the mouth quite colourless, but oddly enough the upper lip had that habitual ap- pearance of stiff compression which is characteristic of highly strung temperaments; it is a noticeable feature of nearly every great actor, for instance. the nose was straight and very thin and in a strong sidelight a tracery of the red blood showed through at the nostrils. the eyes were deeply buried and the lower lids bruised with purple—weak eyes that blinked at a change of light or a sudden thought— distant eyes which missed the design of wall paper and saw the trees growing on the mountains. the forehead was byrne’s most noticeable feaure, pyra- midal, swelling largely towards the top and divided in the centre into two distinct lobes by a single marked furrow which gave his expression a hint of the wistful. looking at that forehead one was strangely conscious of the brain beneath. there the scholar seemed no bony structure; the mind, undefended, was growing and pushing the confining walls fur- ther out. and the fragilitiy which the head suggested the body confirmed, for he was not framed to labor. the burden of the noble head had bowed the slender throat and crooked the shoulders, and when he moved his arm it seemed the arm of a skeleton too loosely clad. there was a diifering connotation in the hands, to be sure. they were thin—bones and sinews chiefly, with the violet of the veins showing along the backs; but they were active hands without tremor—hands ideal for the accurate scalpel, where a fractional error means death to the helpless. after a moment of staring through the window the scholar wrote again: “the major portion of elkhead lies within plain sight of my window. i see a general merchandise store, twenty-seven buildings of a comparatively major and eleven of a minor significance, and five saloons. the streets i! the streets, however, were not described at that sitting, for at this juncture a heavy hand knocked and the door of randall byrne’s room was flung open by hank dwight, proprietor of elkhead’s sa- loon—a versatile man, expert behind the bar or in a blacksmith shop. “doc,” said hank dwight, “you’re wanted.” randall byrne placed his spectacles more firmly on his nose to consider his host. the wild geese l l “what—— ” he began, but hank dwight had al- ready turned on his heel. “her name is kate cumberland. a little speed, doc. she’s in a hurry.” “if no other physician is available,” protested byrne, following slowly down the stairs, “i sup- pose i must see her.” “if they was another within ten miles, d’you s’pose i’d call on you p” asked hank dwight. so saying, he led the way out onto the ve- randa, where the doctor was aware of a girl in a short riding skirt who stood with one gloved hand on her hip while the other slapped a quirt idly against her riding boots. the wild geese man and might not incline the scale far from the horizontal. “i am hardly equipped—” began byrne. “you will not need equipment,” she interrupted. “his trouble lies in his nerves and the state of his mind.” a slight gleam lighted the eyes of the doctor. “ah,” he murmured. “the mind ?” ‘(yes-,, he rubbed his bloodless hands slowly together, and when he spoke his voice was sharp and quick and wholly impersonal. “tell me the symptoms l" “can’t we talk those over on the way to the ranch? even if we start now it will be dark before we arrive.” “but,” protested the doctor, “i have not yet de- cided—this precipitan ” “oh,” she said, and flushed. he perceived that she was on the verge of turning away, but some— thing withheld her. “there is no other physician within reach; my father is very ill. i only ask that you come as a diagnostician, doctor!” “but a ride to your ranch,” he said miserably. “i presume you refer to riding a horse?” “naturally.” “i am unfamiliar with that means of locomotion,” said the doctor with serious eyes, “and in fact have not carried my acquaintance with the equine species beyond a purely experimental stage. anatomically i have a superficial knowledge, but on the one oc- casion on which i sat in a saddle i observed that words and bullets the docility of the horse is probably a poetic fallacy." he rubbed his left shoulder thoughtfully and saw a slight tremor at the corners of the girl’s mouth. it caused his vision to clear and concentrate; he found that the lips were, in fact, in the very act of smiling. the face of the doctor brightened. “you shall ride my own horse,” said the girl. “she is perfectly gentle and has a very easy gait. i’m sure you’ll have not the slightest trouble with her.” “and you ?" “i’ll find something about town; it doesn’t matter what.” “this,” said the doctor, “is most uemarkable. you choose your mounts at random?” “but you will go ?” she insisted. “ah, yes, the trip to the ranch l” groaned the doctor. “let me see: the physical obstacles to such a trip while many are not altogether insuperable, i may say; in the meantime the moral urge which compels me towards the ranch seems to be of the first order.” he sighed. “is it not strange, miss cumberland, that man, though distinguished from the lower orders by mind, so often is controlled in his actions by ethical impulses which override the con- siderations of reason? an observation which leads us towards the conclusion that the passion for good- ness is a principle hardly secondary to the passion for truth. understand that i build the hypothesis only tentatively, with many reservations, among which—” no the wild geese he broke off short. the smile was growing upon her lips. “i will put together a few of my things,” said the doctor, “and come down to you at once.” “good!” said the girl, “i’ll be waiting for you with two horses before you are ready.” he turned away, but had taken hardly a step before he turned, saying: “but why are you so sure that you will be ready before i ” but she was already down the steps from the veranda and stepping briskly down the street. “there is an element of the unexplainable in woman,” said the doctor, and resumed his way to his room. once there, something prompted him to act with the greatest possible speed. he tossed his toilet articles and a few changes of linen into a small, flexible valise and ran down the stairs. he reached the veranda again, panting, and the girl was not in sight; a smile of triumph appeared on the grave, colourless lips of the doctor. “feminine in- stinct, however, is not infallible,” he observed to himself, and to one of the cowboys, lounging loosely in a chair nearby, he continued his train of thoughts aloud: “though the verity of the feminine intuition has already been thrown in a shade of doubt by many thinkers, as you will undoubtedly agree.” the man thus addressed allowed his lower jaw to drop but after a moment he ejaculated: “now what in hell d’you mean by that?” the doctor already turned away, intent upon his thoughts, but he now paused and again faced the words and bullets = cowboy. he said, frowning: “there is unneces- sary violence in your remark, sir.” i “duck your glasses,” said the worthy in question. “you aint talkin’ to a book, you’re talking to a man)! “and in your attitude,” went on the doctor, “there is an element of offense which if carried farther might be corrected by physical violence.” “i don’t foller your words,” said the cattleman, “but from the drift of your tune i gather you’re a bit peeved; and if you are—--” his voice had risen to a ringing note as he pro- ceeded and he now slipped from his chair and faced randall byrne, a big man, brown, hard-handed. the doctor crimsoned. “well?” he echoed, but in place of a deep ring his words were pitched in a high squeak of defiance. he saw a large hand contract to a fist, but almost instantly the big man grinned, and his eyes went past byrne. ' “oh, hell !” he grunted, and turned his back with a chuckle. for an instant there was a mad impulse in the doctor to spring at this fellow but a wave of impo- tence overwhelmed him. he knew that he was white around the mouth, and there was a dryness in his throat. ' “the excitement of imminent physical contest and personal danger,” he diagnosed swiftly, “causing acceleration of the pulse and attendant weakness of the wild geese the body—a state unworthy of the balanced intel- lect.” having brought back his poise by this quick in- terposition of reason, he went his way down the long veranda. against a pillar leaned another tall cattleman, also brown and lean and hard. “may i inquire,” he said, “if you have any in- formation direct or casual concerning a family named cumberland which possesses ranch property in this vicinity ?” “you may,” said the cowpuncher, and continued to roll his cigarette. “well,” said the doctor, “do you know anything about them?” “sure,” said the other, and having finished his cigarette he introduced it between his lips. it seemed to occur to him instantly, however, that he was committing an inhospitable breach, for he produced his durham and brown papers with a start and ex- tended them towards the doctor. “smoke?” he asked. “i use tobacco in no form,” said the doctor. the cowboy stared with such fixity that the match burned down to his fingertips and singed them before he had lighted his cigarette. “ ’s that a fact?” he queried when his astonish- ment found utterance. “what d’you do to kill time? well, i been thinking about knocking off the stuff for a while. mame gets sore at me for hav- ing my fingers all stained up with nicotine like this.” words and bullets he extended his hand, the first and second fingers of which were painted a bright yellow. “soap won’t take it off,” he remarked. “a popular but inexcusable error," said the doc- tor. “it is the tarry by-products of tobacco which cause that stain. nicotine itself, of course, is a volatile alkaloid base of which there is only the merest trace in tobacco. it is one of the deadliest of nerve poisons and is quite colourless. there is enough of that stain upon your fingers—if it were nicotine—to kill a dozen men.” “the hell you say!” “nevertheless, it is an indubitable fact. a lump of nicotine the size of the head of a pin placed on the tongue of a horse will kill the beast instantly.” the cowpuncher pushed back his hat and scratched his head. “this is worth knowin’,” he said, “but i’m some glad that mame ain’t heard it.” “concerning the cumberlands," said the doctor, (ii— , “concerning the cumberlands," repeated the cat- tleman, “it’s best to leave ’em to their own con— cerns.” and he started to turn away, but the thirst for knowledge was dry in the throat of the doctor. ' .“do i understand,” he insisted, “that there is some mystery connected with them?” ~ ‘ “from me,” replied the other, “you understand nothin’.” and he lumbered down the steps and away. be it understood that there was nothing of the . the wild geese gossip in randall byrne, but now he was pardon- ably excited and perceiving the tall form of hank dwight in the doorway he approached his host. “mr. dwight,” he said, “i am about to go to the cumberland ranch. i gather that there is some- thing of an unusual nature concerning them.” “there is,” admitted hank dwight. “can you tell me what it is ?” “i can.” “good!” said the doctor, and he almost smiled. “it is always well to know the background of a case which has to do with mental states. now, just what do you know?” “i know—-—-” began the proprietor, and then paused and eyed his guest dubiously. “i know,” he continued, “a story.” “yes?” “yes, about a man and a boss and a dog.”- “the approach seems not quite obvious, but i shall be glad to hear it.” there was a pause. “words,” said the host, at length, “is worse’n bul- lets. you never know what they’ll hit.” “but the story p” persisted randall byrne. “that story,” said hank dwight, “i may tell to my son before i die.” “this sounds quite promising.” “but i’ll tell nobody else.” “really!” “it’s about a man and a boss and a dog. the words and bullets i man ain’t possible, the hoss ain’t possible, the dog is a wolf.” he paused again and glowered on the doctor. he seemed to be drawn two ways, by his eagerness to tell a yarn and his dread of consequences. “i know,” he muttered, “because i’ve seen ’em all. i’ve seen”—he looked far, as though striking a silent bargain with himself concerning the sum of the story which might safely be told—“i’ve seen a ' hoss that understood a man’s talk like you and me does—or better. i’ve heard a man whistle like a singing bird. yep, that ain’t no lie. you jest im- agine a bald eagle that could lick anything between the earth and the sky and was able to sing—that’s what that whistlin’ was like. it made you glad to hear it, and it made you look to see if your gun was in good workin’ shape. it wasn’t very loud, but it travelled pretty far, like it was comin’ from up above you.” , “that’s the way this strange man of the story whistles ?” asked byrne, leaning closer. “man of the story?” echoed the proprietor, with some warmth. “friend, if he ain’t real, then i’m a ghost. and they’s them in elkhead that’s got the scars of his comin’ and goin’.” “ah, an outlaw? a gunfighter?” queried the doctor. “listen to me, sbn,” observed the host, and to make his point he tapped the hollow chest of byrne with a rigid forefinger, “around these parts you know jest as much as you see, and lots of times you the wild geese don’t even know that much. what you see is some- times your business, but mostly it ain’t.” he con- cluded impressively: “words is worse’n bullets l” “well,” mused byrne, “ can ask the girl these questions. it will be medically necessary.” “ask the girl? ask her ?” echoed the host with a sort of horror. but he ended with a forced re- straint: “that’s your business.” chapter iii the doctor rides hank dwight disappeared from the doorway and the doctor was called from his pondering by the voice of the girl. there was something about that voice which worried byrne, for it was low and con- trolled and musical and it did not fit with the nasal harshness of the cattlemen. when she began to speak it was like the beginning of a song. he turned now and found her sitting a tall bay horse, and she led a red-roan mare beside her. when he went out she tossed her reins over the head of her horse and strapped his valise behind her saddle. “you won’t have any trouble with that mare,” she assured him, when the time came for mounting. yet when he approached gingerly he was received with flattened ears and a snort of anger. “wait,” she cried, “the left side, not the right l” he felt the laughter in her voice, but when he looked he could see no trace of it in her face. he approached from the left side, setting his teeth. “you observe,” he said, “that i take your word at its full value,” and placing his foot in the stirrup, he dragged himself gingerly up to the saddle. the mare stood like a rock. adjusting himself, he wiped a sudden perspiration from his forehead. the wild geese “i quite believe,” he remarked, “that the animal is of unusual intelligence. all may yet be well i” “i’m sure of it.” said the girl gravely. “now we’re off.” and the horses broke into a dog trot. now the gait of the red roan mare was a dream of softness, and her flexible ankles gave a play of whole inches to break the jar of every step, the sure sign of the good saddle-horse; but the horse has never been saddled whose trot is really a smooth pace. the hat of doctor byrne began to incline towards his right eye and his spectacles towards his left ear. he felt a peculiar lightness in the stomach and heaviness in the heart. “the t-t-t-trot,” he ventured to his companion, “is a d-d-d-dam ” “dr. byrne!” she cried. “whoa!” called doctor byrne, and drew mightily in upon the reins. the red mare stopped as a ball stops when it meets a stout wall; the doctor sprawled along her neck, clinging with arms and legs. he managed to clamber back into the saddle. “there are vicious elements in the nature of this brute,” he observed to the girl. “i’m very sorry,” she murmured. he cast a side- long glance but found not the trace of a smile. “the word upon which i ” “stopped?” she suggested. “stopped,” he agreed, “was not, as you evidently assumed, an oath. on the contrary, i was merely the doctor rides remarking that the trot is a damaging gait, but through an interrupted—er—articulation ” his eye dared her, but she was utterly grave. he perceived that there was, after all, a certain kinship between this woman of the mountain-desert and the man thereof. their silences were filled with elo- quence. “we’ll try a canter,” she suggested, “and i think you’ll find that easier.” so she gave the word, and her bay sprang into a lope from a standing start. the red mare did like— wise, nearly flinging the doctor over the back of the saddle, but by the grace of god he clutched the pom- mel in time and was saved. the air caught at his face, they swept out of the town and onto a limit- less level stretch. “sp-p-p-peed,” gasped the doctor, “has never been a p-p-passion with me !” he noted that she was not moving in the saddle. the horse was like the bottom of a wave swinging violently back and forth. she was the calm crest, swaying slightly and graciously with a motion as smooth as the flowing of water. and she spoke as evenly as if she were sitting in a rocking chair. “you’ll be used to it in a moment,” she assured him. he learned, indeed, that if one pressed the stirrups as the shoulders of the horse swung down and leaned a trifle forward when the shoulders rose again, the motion ceased to be jarring; for she was truly a matchless creature and gaited like one of those fabu- the wild geese lous horses of old, sired by the swift western wind. in a little time a certain pride went beating through the veins of the doctor, the air blew more deeply into his lungs, there was a different tang to the wind and a different feel to the sun—a peculiar richness of yellow warmth. and the small head of the horse and the short, sharp, pricking ears tossed continu- ally; and now and then the mare threw her head a bit to one side and glanced back at him with what he felt to be a reassuring air. life and strength and speed were gripped between his knees—he flashed a glance at the girl. but she rode with face straightforward and there was that about her which made him turn his eyes suddenly away and look far off. it was a jagged country, for in the brief rainy season there came sudden and terrific downpours which lashed away the soil and scoured the face of the underlying rock, and in a single day might cut a deep arroyo where before had been smooth plain. this was the season of grass, but not the dark, rank green of rich soil and mild air—it was a yellowish green, a colour at once tender and glowing. it spread everywhere across the plains about elkhead, broken here and there by the projecting boulders which flashed in the sun. so a great battlefield might appear, pock- marked with shell-holes, and all the scars of war freshly cut upon its face. and in truth the moun- tain desert was like an arena ready to stage a con- flict—a titanic arena with space for earth-giants to struggle—and there in the distance were the specta~ the doctor rides r tor mountains. high, lean-flanked mountains they were, not clad in forests, but rather bristling with a stubby growth of the few trees which might endure in precarious soil and bitter weather, but now they gathered the dignity of distance about them. the grass of the foothills was a faint green mist about their feet, cloaks of exquisite blue hung around the upper masses, but their heads were naked to the pale skies. and all day long, with deliberate alteration, the garb of the mountains changed. when the sud-. den morning came they leaped naked upon the eye, and then withdrew, mufliing themselves in browns and blues until at nightfall they covered themselves to the eyes in thickly sheeted purple—tyrian purple —and prepared for sleep with their heads among the stars. - something of all this came to doctor randall byrne as he rode, for it seemed to him that there was a similarity between these mountains and the girl beside him. she held that keen purity of the upper slopes under the sun, and though she had no artifice or careful wiles to make her strange, there was about her a natural dignity like the mystery of distance. there was a rhythm, too, about that line of peaks against the sky, and the girl had caught it; he watched her sway with the gallop of her horse and felt that though she was so close at hand she was a thousand miles from him. she concealed nothing, and yet he could no more see her naked soul than he could tear the veils of shadow from the mountains. not that the doctor phrased his emo- the wild geese tions in words. he was only conscious of a sense of awe and the necessity of silence. a strange feeling for the doctor! he came from the region of the mind where that which is not: spoken does not exist, and now this girl was carry- ing him swiftly away from hypotheses, doubts, and polysyllabic speech into the world—of what? the spirit? the doctor did not know. he only felt that he was about to step into the unknown, and it held for him the fascination of the suspended action of a statue. let it not be thought that he calmly ac- cepted the sheer necessity for silence. he fought against it, but no words came. - it was evening: the rolling hills about them were already dark; only the heads of the mountains took the day; and now they paused at the top of a rise and the girl pointed across the hollow. “there we are,” she said. it was a tall clump of trees through which broke the outlines of a two-storied house lar- ger than any the doctor had seen in the mountain- desert; and outside the trees lay long sheds, a great barn, and a wide-spread wilderness of corrals. it struck the doctor with its apparently limitless ca- pacity for housing man and beast. coming in con- trast with the rock-strewn desolation of the plains, this was a great establishment; the doctor had ridden out with a waif of the desert and she had turned into a princess at a stroke. _then, for the first time since they left elkhead, he remembered with a start that he was to care for a sick man in that house. the doctor rides ‘ “you were to tell me,” he said, “something about the sickness of your father—the background behind his condition. but we’ve both forgotten about it.” “i have been thinking how i could describe it, every moment of the ride,” she answered. then, as the gloom fell more thickly around them every mo- ment, she swerved her horse over to the mare, as if it were necessary that she read the face of the doctor while she spoke. “six months ago,” she said, “my father was robust and active in spite ‘of his age. he was cheer- ful, busy, and optimistic. but he fell into a decline. it has not been a sudden sapping of his strength. if it were that i should not worry so much; i’d at- tribute it to disease. but every day something of vitality goes from him. he is fading almost from hour to hour, as slowly as the hour hand of a clock. you can’t notice the change, but every twelve hours the hand makes a complete revolution. it’s as if his blood were evaporating and nothing we can do will supply him with fresh strength.” “is this attended by irritability?” “he is perfectly calm and seems to have no care for what becomes of him.” “has he lost interest in the things which formerly attracted and occupied him p” “yes, he minds nothing now. he has no care for the condition of the cattle, or for profit or loss in the sales. he has simply stepped out of every em- ployment." the wild geese “ah, a gradual diminution of the faculties of attention.” “in a way, yes. but also he is more alive than he has ever been. he seems to hear with uncanny distinctness, for instance." the doctor frowned. “i was inclined to attribute his decline to the operation of old age,” he remarked, “but this is un- usual. this--er—inner acuteness is accompanied by no particular interest in any one thing ?” as she did not reply for the moment he was about to accept the silence for acquiescence, but then through the dimness he was arrested by the lustre of her eyes, fixed, apparently, far beyond him. “one thing,” she said at length. “yes, there is one thing in which he retains an interest.” the doctor nodded brightly. “good!” he said. “and that the silence fell again, but this time he was more roused and he fixed his eyes keenly upon her through the gloom. she was deeply troubled; one hand gripped the horn of her saddle strongly; her lips had parted; she was like one who endures inescapable pain. he could not tell whether it was the slight breeze which disturbed her blouse or the rapid pant- ing of her breath. “of that,” she said, “it is hard to speak—it is use less to speak!” “surely not!” protested the doctor. “the cause, my dear madame, though perhaps apparently remote ?” .the doctor rides irom the immediate issue, is of the utmost signifi- cance in diagnosis.” she broke in rapid- y: “this is all i can tell you: he is waiting for something which will never come. he has missed something from his life which will never come back into it. then why should we dis- cuss what it is that he has missed.” “to the critical mind,” replied the doctor calmly, and he automatically adjusted his glasses closer to his eyes, “nothing is without significance.” “it is nearly dark ” she exclaimed hurriedly. “let us ride on.” “first,” he suggested, “i must tell you that before i left elkhead i heard a hint of some remarkable story concerning a man and a horse and a dog. is there anything_” but it seemed that she did not hear. he heard a sharp, low exclamation which might have been addressed to her horse, and the next instant she was galloping swiftly down the slope. the doctor fol- lowed as fast as he could, jouncing in the saddle until he was'quite out of breath. chapter iv the chain they had hardly passed the front door of the house when they were met by a tall man with dark hair and dark, deep-set eyes. he was tanned to the bronze of an indian, and he might have been termed handsome had not his features been so deeply cut and roughly finished. his black hair was quite long, and as the wind from the opened door stirred it, there was a touch of wildness about the fellow that made the heart of randall byrne jump. when this man saw the girl his face lighted, briefly; when his glance fell on byrne the light went out. “couldn’t get the doc, kate?” he asked. “not doctor hardin,” she answered, “and i’ve brought doctor byrne instead.” the tall man allowed his ‘gaze to drift leisurely from head to foot of randall byrne. then: “h’ware you, doc?” he said, and extended a big hand. it occurred to byrne that all these men of the mountain-desert were big; there was some- thing intensely irritating about their mere physical size; they threw him continually on the defensive and he found himself making apologies to himself and summing up personal merits. in this case there the chain , was more direct reason for his anger. it was patent that the man did not weight the strange doctor against any serious thoughts. “and this,” she was saying, “is mr. daniels. buck, is there any change ?” “nothin’ much,” answered buck daniels. “come along towards evening and he said he was feeling i kind of cold. so i wrapped him up in a rug. then he sat some as usual, one hand inside of the other, looking steady at nothing. but a while ago he be- gan getting sort of nervous.” “what did he do ?” “nothing. i just felt he was getting excited. the way you know when your hoss is going to shy.” “do you want to go to your room first, doctor, or will you go in to see him now?” “now,” decided the doctor, and followed her down the hall and through a door. the room reminded the doctor more of a new england interior than of the mountain-desert. there was a round rag rug on the floor with every im- aginable colour woven into its texture, but blended with a rude design, reds towards the centre and blue- greys towards the edges. there were chairs uphol- stered in green which looked mouse-coloured where the high lights struck along the backs and the arms ——shallow-seated chairs that made one’s knees pro- ject foolishly high and far. byrne saw a cabinet at one end of the room, filled with sea-shells and knicknacks, and above it was a memorial cross sur- rounded by a wreath inside a glass case. most of : the wild geese the wall space thronged with engravings whose sub- jects ranged from niagara falls to lady hamilton. one entire end of the room was occupied by a paint- ing of a neck and neck finish in a race, and the artist had conceived the blooded racers as creatures with tremendous round hips and mighty-muscled shoul- ders, while the legs tapered to a faun-like delicacy. these animals were spread-eagled in the most amaz- ing fashion, their fore-hoofs reaching beyond their noses and their rear hoofs striking out beyond the tips of the tails. the jockey in the lead sat quite still, but he who was losing had his whip drawn and looked like an automatic doll—so pink were his cheeks. beside the course, in attitudes of graceful ease, stood men in very tight trousers and very high stocks and ladies in dresses which pinched in at the waist and flowed out at the shoulders. they leaned upon canes or twirled parasols and they had their backs turned upon the racetrack as if they found their own negligent conversation far more exciting than the breathless, driving finish. under the terrific action and still more terrific quiescence of this picture lay the sick man, propped high on a couch and wrapped to the chest in a nava- jo blanket. “dad,” said kate cumberland, “doctor hardin' was not in town. i’ve brought out doctor byrne, a newcomer.” the invalid turned his white head slowly towards them, and his shaggy brows lifted and fell slightly— a passing shadow of annoyance. it was a very stern the chain face, and framed in the long, white hair it seemed surrounded by an atmosphere of arctic chill. he was thin, terribly thin—not the leanness of byrne, but a grim emaciation which exaggerated the size of a tall forehead and made his eyes supernally bright. it was in the first glance of those eyes that byrne recognized the restlessness of which kate had spoken; and he felt almost as if it were an inner fire which had burned and still was wasting the body of joseph cumberland. to the attentions of the doctor the old man submitted with patient self-control, and byrne found a pulse feeble, rapid, but steady. there was no temperature. in fact, the heat of the body was a trifle sub-normal, considering that the heart was beating so rapidly. doctor byrne started. most of his work had been in laboratories, and the horror of death was not yet familiar, but old joseph cumberland was dying. it was not a matter of moment. death might be a week or a month away, but die soon he inevitably must; for the doctor saw that the fire was still raging in the hollow breast of the cattleman, but there was no longer fuel to feed it. he stared again, and more closely. fire without fuel to feed it! doctor byrne gave what seemed to be an in- finitely muffled cry of exultation, so faint that it was hardly a whisper; then he leaned closer and pored over joe cumberland with a lighted eye. one might have thought that the doctor was gloating over the sick man. the wild geese suddenly he straightened and began to pace up and down the room, muttering to himself. kate cumberland listened intently and she thought that what the man muttered so rapidly, over and over to himself, was: “eureka! eureka! i have found it l” found what? the triumph of mind over matter! on that couch was a dead body. the flutter of that heart was not the strong beating of the normal organ; the hands were cold; even the body was chilled; yet the man lived. or, rather, his brain lived, and compelled the shattered and outworn body to comply with its will. doctor byrne turned and stared again at the face of cumberland. he felt as if he understood, now, the look which was concentrated so brightly on the vacant air. it was illumined by a steady and des- perate defiance, for the old man was denying his body to the grave. the scene changed for randall byrne. the girl disappeared. the walls of the room were broken away. the eyes of the world looked in upon him and the wise men of the world kept pace with him up and down the room, shaking their heads and saying: “it is not possible!” but the fact lay there to contradict them. prometheus stole fire from heaven and paid it back to an eternal death. the old cattleman was refusing his payment. it was no state of coma in which he lay; it was no prolonged trance. he was vitally, vividly alive; he was concentrating with a the chain bitter and exhausting vigour day and night, and fighting a battle the more terrible because it was fought in silence, a battle in which he could receive no aid, no reinforcement, a battle in which he could not win, but in which he might delay defeat. ay, the wise men would smile and shake their heads when he presented this case to their considera- tion, but he would make his account so accurate and particular and so well witnessed that they would have to admit the truth of all he said. and science, which proclaimed that matter was indestructible and that the mind was matter and that the brain needed nourishment like any other muscle—science would have to hang the head and wonder! the eyes of the girl brought him to halt in his pacing, and he stopped, confronting her. his ex- citement had transformed him. his nostrils were quivering, his eyes were pointed with light, his head was high, and he breathed fast. he was flushed as the roman conqueror. and his excitement tinged the girl, also, with colour. she offered to take him to his room as soon as he wished to go. he was quite willing. he wanted to be alone, to think. but when he followed her she stopped him in the hall. buck daniels lumbered slowly after them in a clumsy attempt at sauntering. “well?” asked kate cumberland. she had thrown a blue mantle over her shoulders when she entered the house, and the touch of boyish self-confidence which had been hers on the ride was gone. in its place there was something even more the wild geese difficult for randall byrne to face. if there had been a garish brightness about her when he had first seen her, the brilliancy of a. mirror playing in the sun against his feeble eyes, there was now a blend- ing of pastel shades, for the hall was dimly illu- mined and the shadow tarnished her hair and her pallor was like cold stone; even her eyes were misted by fear. yet a vital sense of her nearness swept upon byrne, and he felt as if he were sur- rounded—by a danger. “opinions,” said the doctor, “based on so sum- mary an examination are necessarily inexact, yet the value of a first impression is not negligible. the best i can say is that there is probably no immediate danger, but mr. cumberland is seriously ill. fur- thermore, it is not old age.” he would not say all he thought; it was not yet time. ' she winced and clasped her hands tightly together. she was like a child about to be punished for a crime it has not committed, and it came vaguely to the doctor that he might have broached his ill tidings more gently. he added: “i must have further opportunities for observance before i give a detailed opinion and suggest a treatment.” her glance wandered past him and at once the heavy step of buck daniels approached. “at least," she murmured, “i am glad that you are frank. i don't want to have anything kept from me, please. buck, will you take the doctor up to his the chain room?” she managed a faint smile. “this is an old-fashioned house, doctor byrne, but i hope we can make you fairly comfortable. you’ll ask for whatever you need ?” the doctor bowed, and was told that they would dine in half an hour, then the girl went back towards the room in which joe cumberland lay. she walked slowly, with her head bent, and her posture seemed to byrne the very picture of a burden-bearer. then he foflowed daniels up the stairs, led by the jingling of the spurs, great-rowelled spurs that might grip the side of a refractory horse like teeth. a hall-light guided them, and from the hall buck daniels entered a room and fumbled above him until he had lighted a lamp which was suspended by two chains from the ceiling, a circular burner which cast a glow as keen as an electric globe. it brought out every detail of the old-fashioned room—the bare, painted floor; the bed, in itself a separate and impor- tant piece of architecture with its four tall posts, a relic of the times when beds were built, not simply made; and there was a chest of drawers with swell- ing, hospitable front, and a rectangular mirror above with its date in gilt paint on the upper edge. a rising wind shook the window and through some crack stirred the lace curtains; it was a very com- fortable retreat, and the doctor became aware of aching muscles and a heavy brain when he glanced at the bed. the same gust of wind which rattled the window- pane now pushed, as with invisible and ghostly the wild geese hand, a door which opened on the side of the bed- room, and as it swung mysteriously and gradually wide the doctor found himself looking into an ad- joining chamber. all he could see clearly was a cor- ner on which struck the shaft of light from the lamp, and lying on the floor in that corner was some- thing limp and brown. a snake, he surmised at first, but then he saw clearly that it was a chain of formidable proportions bolted against the wall at one end and terminating at the other in a huge steel collar. a chill started in the boots of the doctor and wriggled its uncomfortable way up to his head. “hell!” burst out buck daniels. “how’d that door get open?” he slammed it with violence. “she’s been in there again, i guess,” muttered the cowpuncher, as he stepped back, scowling. “who?” ventured the doctor. buck daniels whirled on him. “none of your ” he began hotly, but checked himself with choking suddenness and strode heavily from the room. chapter v the waiting the doctor removed his coat with absent-minded slowness, and all the time that he was removing the dust and the stains of travel, he kept narrowing the eye of his mind to visualise more clearly that cum- bersome chain which lay on the floor of the adjoin- ing room. now, the doctor was not of a curious or gossipy nature, but if someone had offered to tell him the story of that chain for a thousand dollars, the doctor at that moment would have thought the price ridiculously small. then the doctor went down to the dinner table prepared to keep one eye upon buck daniels and the other upon kate cumberland. but if he expected to learn through conversation at the table he was griev- ously disappointed, for buck daniels ate with an eye to strict business that allowed no chatter, and the girl sat with a forced smile and an absent eye. now and again buck would glance up at her, watch her for an instant, and then turn his attention back to his plate with a sort of gloomy resolution; there were not half a dozen words exchanged from the beginning to the end of the meal. the wild geese after that they went in to the invalid. he lay in the same position, his skinny hands crossed upon his breast, and his shaggy brows were drawn so low that the eyes were buried in profound shadow. they took positions in a loose semi-circle, all pointing towards the sick man, and it reminded byrne with grim force of a picture he had seen of three wolves waiting for the bull moose to sink in the snows: they, also, were waiting for a death. it seemed, indeed, as if death must have already come; at least it could not make him more moveless than he was. against the dark wall his profile was etched by a sharp highlight which was brightest of all on his forehead and his nose; while the lower portion of the face was lost in comparative shadow. so perfect and so detailed was the resemblance to death, indeed, that the lips in the shadow smiled—— fixedly. it was not until kate cumberland shifted a lamp, throwing more light on her father, that byrne saw that the smile was in reality a forcible compres- sion of the lips. he understood, suddenly, that the silent man on the couch was struggling terribly against an hysteria of emotion. it brought beads of sweat out upon the doctor’s tall forehead; for this perfect repose suggested an agony more awful than yells and groans and struggles. the silence was like acid; it burned without a flame. and byrne knew, that moment, the quality of the thing which had wasted the rancher. it was this acid of grief or yearning which had eaten deep into him and was now close to his heart. the girl had said that for the waiting six months he had been failing. six months! six eternities of burning at the stake! he lay silent, waiting; and his resignation meant that he knew death would come before that for which he waited. silence, that was the key-note of the room. the girl was silent, her eyes dark with grief; yet they were not fixed upon her father. it came thrilling home to byrne that her sorrow was not entirely for her dying parent, for she looked be- yond him rather than at him. was she, too, wait- ing? was that what gave her the touch of sad gravity, the mystery like the mystery of distance? and buck daniels. he, also, said nothing. he rolled cigarettes one after another with amazing dexterity and smoked them with half a dozen titanic breaths. his was a single-track mind. he loved the girl, and he bore the sign of his love on his face. he wanted her desperately; it was a hunger like that of tantalus, too keen to be ever satisfied. yet, still more than he looked at the girl, he, also, stared into the distance. he; also, was waiting! it was the deep suspense of cumberland which made him so silently alert. he was as intensely alive as the receiver of a wireless apparatus; he gathered information from the empty air. so that byrne was hardly surprised when, in the midst of that grim silence, the old man raised a rigid forefinger of warning. kate and daniels stiffened in their chairs and byrne felt his flesh creep. of course it was nothing. the wind, which had shaken the house with several strong gusts before dinner, v the wild geese had now grown stronger and blew with steadily in- creasing violence; perhaps the sad old man had been attracted by the mournful chorus and imagined some sound he knew within it. but now once more the finger was raised, the arm extended, shaking violently, and joe cumberland turned upon them a glance which flashed with a delirious and unhealthy joy. “listen!” he cried. “again!” “what?” asked kate. “i hear them, i tell you.” her lips blanched, and parted to speak, but she checked the impulse and looked swiftly about the room with what seemed to byrne an appeal for help. as for buck daniels, he changed from a dark bronze to an unhealthy yellow; fear, plain and grimly un- mistakable, was in his face. then he strode to the window and threw it open with a crash. the wind leaped in and tossed the flame in the throat of the chimney, so that great shadows waved suddenly through the room, and made the chairs seem afloat. even the people were suddenly unreal. and the rush of the storm gave byrne an eerie sensation of being blown through infinite space. for a moment there was only the sound of the gale and the flap- ping of a loose picture against the wall, and the rattling of a newspaper. then he heard it. first it was a single note which he could not place. it was music, and yet it was discordant, and it had the effect of a blast of icy wind. once he had been in egypt and had stood in a the waiting corridor of cheops’ pyramid. the torch had been blown out in the hand of his guide. from some- where in the black depths before them came a laugh, made unhuman by echoes. and byrne had visioned the mummied dead pushing back the granite lids of their sarcophagi and sitting upright. but that was nothing compared with this. not half so wild or strange. he listened again, breathless, with the sharp prickling running up and down his spine. it was the honking of the wild geese, flying north. and out of the sound he builded a picture of the grey triangle cleaving through the cold upper sky, sent on a mission no man could understand. “was i right? was i right?” shrilled the in- valid, and when byrne turned towards him, he saw the old man sitting erect, with an expression of wild triumph. there came an indescribable cry from the girl, and a deep throated curse from buck daniels as he slammed down the window. with the chill blast shut off and the flame burning steadily once more in the lamp, a great silence be- sieged the room, with a note of expectancy in it. byrne was conscious of being warm, too warm. it was close in the room, and he was weighted down. it was as if another presence had stepped into the room and stood invisible. he felt it with unspeak- able keenness, as when one knows certainly the thoughts which pass in the mind of another. and, more than that, he knew that the others in the room felt what he felt. in the waiting silence he saw that chapter vi the mission starts then, with a shifting of the wind, a song was blown to them from the bunk-house, a cheerful, ringing chorus; the sound was like daylight—it drove the terror from the room. joe cumberland asked them to leave him. that night, he said, he would sleep. he felt it, like a promise. the other three went out from the room. in the hall kate and daniels stood close together under a faint light from the wall-lamp, and they talked as if they had forgotten the presence of byrne. “it had to come,” she said. “i knew it would come to him sooner or later, but i didn’t dream it would be as terrible as this. buck, what are we going to do ?” “god knows,” said the big cowpuncher. “just wait, i s’pose, same as we’ve been doing.” he had aged wonderfully in that moment of dark- ness. “he’ll be happy now for a few days,’ went on the girl, “but afterwards—when he realises that it means nothing—what then, buck ?” the wild geese the man took her hands and began to pat them softly as a father might soothe a child. “i seen you when the wind come in,” he said gently. “are you going to stand it, kate? is it going to be hell for you, too, every time you hear ’em ?” she answered: “if it were only i! yes, i could‘ stand it. lately i’ve begun to think that i can stand anything. but when i see dad it breaks my heart—- and you—oh, buck, it hurts, it hurts!” she drew his hands impulsively against her breast. “if it were only something we could fight outright!” buck daniels sighed. “pipght ?” he echoed hopelessly. “fight? against him? kate, you’re all tired out. go to bed, honey, and try to stop thinkin’-—and—-god help us all!” she turned away from him and passed the doctor —blindly. buck daniels had set his foot on the stairs when byrne hurried after him and touched his arm; they went up together. “mr. daniels,” said the doctor, “it is necessary that i speak with you, alone. will you come into my room for a few moments?” ' “doc,” said the cattleman, “i’m short on my feed and i don’t feel a pile like talkin’. can’t you wait till the morning?” “there has been a great deal too much waiting, mr. daniels,” said the doctor. “what i have to say to you must be said now. will you come in ?” the mission starts “i will,” nodded buck daniels. “but cut it short.” once in his room the doctor lighted the lamp and then locked the door. “what’s all the mystery and hush stuff p” growled daniels, and with a gesture he refused the proffered chair. “cut loose, doc, and make it short.” the little man sat down, removed his glasses, held them up to the light, found a speck upon them, polished it carefully away, replaced the spectacles upon his nose, and peered thoughtfully at buck daniels. i buck daniels rolled his eyes towards the door and then even towards the window, and then, as one who accepts the inevitable, he sank into a chair and plunged his hands into his pockets, prepared to en— dure. “i am called,” went on the doctor dryly, “to ex- amine a case in which the patient is dangerously ill -—in fact, hopelessly ill, and i have found that the cause of his illness is a state of nervous expectancy on the part of the sufferer. it being obviously nec- essary to know the nature of the disease and its cause before that cause may be removed, i have asked you to sit here this evening to give me what- ever explanation you may have for it.” buck daniels stirred uneasily. at length he broke out: “doc, i size you up as a gent with brains. i got one piece of advice for you: get the hell away from the cumberland ranch and never come back again !” the wild geese the doctor flushed and his lean jaw thrust out. “although,” he said, “i cannot pretend to be classed among those to whom physical fear is an unknown, yet i wish to assure you, sir, that with me physical trepidation is not an overruling motive." “oh, hell!” groaned buck daniels. then he ex- plained more gently: “i don’t say you’re yellow. all i say is: this mess ain’t one that you can straighten out—nor no other man can. give it up, wash your hands, and git back to elkhead. i dunno what kate was thinkin’ of to bring you out here!” “the excellence of your intention,” said the doc- tor, “i shall freely admit, though the assumption that difliculty in the essential problem would deter me from the analysis is an hypothesis which i can- not leave uncontested. in the vulgar, i may give you to understand that i am in this to stay !” buck daniels started to speak, but thinking better of it he shrugged his shoulders and sat back, re- signed. “well,” he said, “kate brought you out here. maybe she has a reason for it. what d'you want to know ?” “what connection,” said the doctor, “have wild geese with a man, a horse, and a dog?” “what in hell d’you know about a horse and a man and a dog—and wild geese ?” inquired buck in a strained voice. “rumour,” said the doctor, “has been in this in- stance, unfortunately, my only teacher. but, sir, i have ascertained that mr. cumberland, his daughter, the mission starts . and you, sir, are all waiting for a certain thing to come to this ranch, and that thing i naturally as- sume to be a man.” “doc,” said the cowpuncher sarcastically, “there ain’t no doubt you got a wonderful brain !” “mockery,” pronounced the man of learning, “is a use of the mental powers which is both unworthy and barren and does not in this case advance the argument, which is: who and what is this man for whom you wait p” “he came,” said buck daniels, “out of nowhere. that’s all we know about who he is. what is he? i’ll tell you easy: he’s a gent that looks like a man, and walks like a man, and talks like a man—but he ain’t a man.” “ah,” nodded the philosopher, “a crime of ex- traordinary magnitude has, perhaps, cut off this un- fortunate fellow from communication with others of his kind. is this the case?” “it ain’t,” replied buck. “doc, tell me this: can a wolf commit a crime?” “admitting this definition: that crime is the break- ing of law, and that law is a force created by reason to control the rational, it may be granted that the acts of the lower animals lie ‘outside of categories framed according to ethical precepts. to directly answer your not incurious question: i believe that a wolf cannot commit a crime.” buck daniels sighed. “d’you know, doc,” he said gravely, “that you remind me of a side-hill goat p” the wild geese “ah,” murmured the man of learning, “is it pos- sible? and what, mr. daniels, is the nature of a side-hill goat?” “it’s a goat that’s got the legs of one side shorter than the legs on the other side, and the only way he can get to the top of a hill is to keep trottin’ around and around the hill like a five per cent. grade. he goes a mile to get ten feet higher.” “this fact,” said byrne, and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “is not without interest, though i fail to perceive the relation between me and such a crea- ture, unless, perhaps, there are biologic similarities of which i have at present no cognition.” “i didn’t think you’d follow me,” replied buck with an equal gravity. “but you can lay to this, doc; this gent we’re waitin’ for ain’t committed any more crimes than a wolf has.” “ah, i see,” murmured the doctor, “a man so near the brute that his enormities pass beyond—” “get this straight,” said buck, interrupting with a sternly pointed finger: “there ain’t a kinder or a gentler man in the mountain-desert than him. he’s got a voice softer than kate cumberland’s, which is some soft voice, and as for his heart—doc, i’ve seen him get off his horse to put a wounded rabbit out of its pain l” a ring of awe came in the throat of daniels as he repeated the incredible fact. a ' he went on: “if i was in trouble, i’d rather have him beside me than ten other men; if i was sick i’d rather have him than the ten best doctors in the mission starts the world; if i wanted a pal that would die for them that done him good and go to hell to get them that done him bad, i’d choose him first, and there ain’t none that come second.” the panegyric was not a burst of imagination. buck daniels was speaking seriously, hunting for words, and if he used superlatives it was because he needed them. “extraordinary!” murmured the doctor, and he repeated the word in a louder tone. it was a rare word for him; in all his scholastic career and in all of his scientific investigations he had found occa- sion to use so strong a term not more than half a dozen times at the most. he went on, cautiously, and his weak eyes blinked at daniels: “and there is a relation between this man and a horse and dog ?" buck daniels shuddered and his colour changed. “listen!” he said, “i’ve talked enough. you ain’t going to get another word out of me except this: doc, have a good sleep, get on your hoss to-morrow mornin’, and beat it. don’t even wait for break- fast. because, if you do wait, you may get a hand in this little hell of ours. you may be waiting, too!” a sudden thought brought him to his feet. he stood over the doctor. “how many times,” he thundered, “have you seen kate cumberland?" “to-day, for the first time.” “well,” said daniels, growling with relief, “you’ve seen her enough. i know.” and he turned towards the door. “unlock,” he commanded. “i’m tired out—and sick—of talking about him.” , the wild geese but the doctor did not move. “nevertheless,” he stated, “you will remain. there is something further which you know and which you will communicate to me.” buck daniels turned at the door; his face was not pleasant. “while observing you as you talked with the girl,” byrne said, “it occurred to me that you were holding information from her. the exact nature of that information i cannot state, but it is reasonable to deduct that you could, at the present moment, name the place where the man for whom mr. cumberland and his daughter wait is now located.” buck daniels made no reply, but he returned to his chair and slumped heavily into it, staring at the little doctor. and byrne realised with a thrill of pleasure that he was not afraid of death. “i may further deduct,” said the doctor, “that you will go in person to the place where you know this man may be found and induce him to come to this ranc .” the silent anger of daniels di'ed away. he smiled, and at length he laughed without mirth. “doc,” he said, “if you knew where there was a gun, would that make you want to put it up agin your head and pull the trigger p” but the doctor proceeded inexorably with his de- ductions: “because you are aware, mr. daniels, that the presence of this man may save the life of mr. cumberland, a thought, to be sure, which might not be accepted by the medical fraternity, but which the mission starts may without undue exaggeration devolve from the psychological situation in this house.” “doc,” said daniels huskily, “you talk straight, and you act straight, and i think you are straight, so i’ll take off the bridle and talk free. i know where whistling dan is—just about. but if i was to go to him and bring him here i’d bust the heart of kate cumberland. d’you understand?” his voice lowered with an intense emotion. “i’ve thought it out sideways and backwards. it’s kate or old joe. which is the most important?” the doctor straightened in the chair, polished his glasses, and peered once more at the cowpuncher. “you are quite sure, also, that the return of this man, this strange wanderer, might help mr. cum— berland back to health?” “i am, all right. he’s sure wrapped up in whistlin’ dan." “what is the nature of their relations; what makes him so oddly dependent upon the other?” “i dunno, doc. it’s got us all fooled. when dan is here it seems like old cumberland jest nacherally lives on the things dan does and hears and sees. we’ve seen cumberland prick up his ears the min- ute dan comes into the room, and show life. some- times dan sits with him and tells him what he’s been doin’-—maybe it ain’t any more than how the sky looks that day, or about the feel of the wind—but joe sits with his eyes dreamin’, like a little kid hear- in’ fairy stories. kate says it’s been that way since her dad first brought dan in off’n the range. he’s go the wild geese been sort of necessary to old joe—almost like air to breathe. i tell you, it’s jest a picture to see them two together.” “very odd, very odd,” brooded the doctor, frown- ing, “but this seems to be an odd place and an odd set of people. you’ve no real idea why dan left the ranch?” “ask the wild geese,” said buck bitterly. he added: “maybe you’d better ask dan’s black hoss or his dog, bart. they’d know better’n anything else.” “but what has the man been doing since he left? have you any idea ?” “get a little chatter, now and then, of a gent that’s rid into a town on a black hoss, prettier’n anything that was ever seen before. “it’s all pretty much the same, what news we get. mostly i guess he jest wanders around doin’ no harm to nobody. but once in a while somebody sicks a dog on bart, and bart jest nacherally chaws that dog in two. then the owner of the dog may start a fight, and dan drops him and rides on.” “with a trail of dead men behind him?” cried the doctor, hunching his shoulders as if to shake off a chill. “dead? nope. you don’t have to shoot to kill when you can handle a gun the way dan does. nope, he jest wings ’em. plants a chunk of lead in a shoulder, or an arm, or a leg. that’s all. they ain’t no love of blood in dan—except ” “well?” the mission starts “doc,” said buck with a shudder, “i ain’t goin’ to talk about the exceptions. mostly the news we gets of dan is about troubles he’s had. but sometimes we hear of gents he’s helped out when they was sick, and things like that. they ain’t nobody like dan when a gent is down sick, i’ll tell a man!” the doctor sighed. _ he said: “and do i understand you to say that the girl and this man—whistling dan, as you call him—are intimately and sentimentally related?” “she loves him,” said daniels slowly. “she loves the ground he walks on and the places where he’s been.” “but, sir, it would seem probable from your own reasoning that the return of the man, in this case, will not be unwelcome to her.” “reason?” broke out daniels bitterly. “what the hell has reason got to do with whistling dan? man, man! if barry was to come back d’you sup— pose he’d remember that he’d once told kate he loved her? doc, i know him as near as any man can know him. i tell you, he thinks no more of her than—than the wild geese think of her. if old joe dies because dan is away—well, cumberland is an old man anyway. but how could i stand to see barry pass kate by with an empty eye, the way he’d do if he come back? i’d want to kill him, and i’d get bumped off tryin’ it, like as not. and what would it do to kate? it’d kill her, doc, as sure as you’re born.” “your assumption being,” murmured the doctor, the wild geese “that if she never sees the man again she will eventu- ally forget him.” “d’you forget a knife that’s sticking into you? no, she won’t forget him. but maybe after a while she’ll be able to stand thinkin’ about him. she’ll get used to the hurt. she’ll be able to talk and laugh the way she used to. oh, doc, if you could of seen her as i’ve seen her in the old days ” _ “when the man was with her?” cut in the doctor. buck daniels caught his breath. “damn your eternal soul, doc!” he said softly. and for a time neither of them spoke. whatever went on in the mind of daniels, it was something that contorted his face. as for byrne, he was try- ing to match fact and possibility and he was finding a large gap between the two; for he tried to visualise the man whose presence had been food to old joe cumberland, and whose absence had taken the oil from the lamp so that the flame now flickered dimly, nearly out. but he could build no such picture. he could merely draw together a vague abstraction of a man to whom the storm and the wild geese who ride the storm had meaning and relationship. the logic which he loved was breaking to pieces in the hands of randall byrne. silence, after all, is only a name, never a fact. there are noises in the most absolute quiet. if there is not even the sound of the cricket or the wind, if there are not even ghost whispers in the house, there is the sigh of one’s own breathing, and in those mo- ments of deadly waiting the beat of the heart may the mission starts be as loud and as awful as the rattle of the death- march. now, between the doctor and the cow- puncher, such a silence began. buck daniels wanted nothing more in the world than to be out of that room, but the eye of the doctor held him, unwilling. and there began once more that eternal waiting, waiting, waiting, which was the horror of the place, until the faint creakings through the windshaken. house took on the meaning of footsteps stalking down the hall and pausing at the door, and there was the bushing breath of one who listened and smiled to himself! now the doctor became aware that the eye of buck daniels was widening, bright- ening; it was as if the mind of the big man were giving way in the strain. his face blanched. even the lips had no colour, and they moved, gibberingly. “listen!” he said. “it is the wind,” answered the doctor, but his voice was hardly audible. “listen!” commanded daniels again. the doctor could hear it then. it was a pulse of sound obscure as the thudding of his heart. but it was a human sound and it made his throat close up tightly, as if a hand were settling around his wind- pipe. buck daniels rose from his chair; that half- mad, half-listening look was still in his eyes—be- hind his eyes. staring at him the doctor under- stood, intimately, how men can throw their lives away gloriously in battle, fighting for an idea; or how they can commit secret and foul murder. yet he was more afraid of that pulse of sound than of . the wild geese the face of buck daniels. he, also, was rising from his chair, and when daniels stalked to the side door of the room and leaned there, the doctor followed. then they could hear it clearly. there was a note of music in the voice; it was a woman weeping in that room where the chain lay on the floor, coiled loosely like a snake. buck daniels straightened and moved away from the door. he began to laugh, guarding it so that not a whisper could break out- side the room, and his silent laughter was the most horrible thing the doctor had ever seen. it was only for a moment. the hysteria passed and left the big man shaking like a dead leaf. “doc,” he said, “i can’t stand it no longer. i’m going out and try to get him back here. and god forgive me for it.” he left the room, slamming the door behind him, and then be stamped down the hall as if he were trying to make a companion out of his noise. doc- tor randall byrne sat down to put his thoughts in order. he began at the following point: “the physical fact is not; only the immaterial is.” but before he had carried very far his deductions from this premise, he caught the neighing of a horse near the house; so he went to the window and threw it open. at the same time he heard the rattle of gal- loping hoofs, and then he saw a horseman riding furiously into the heart of the wind. almost at once the rider was lost from sight. chapter vii jerry strann the wrath of the lord seems less terrible when it is localised, and the world at large gave thanks daily that the range of jerry strann was limited to the three b’s. as everyone in the mountain-desert knows, the three b’s are bender, buckskin, and brownsville; they make the points of a loose triangle that is cut with canyons and tumbled with moun- tains, and that triangle was the chosen stamping ground of jerry strann. jerry was not born in the region of the three b’s and why it should have been chosen specially by him was matter which the in- habitants could not puzzle out; but they felt that for their sins the lord had probably put his wrath among them in the form of jerry strann. he was only twenty-four, this jerry, but he was already grown into a proverb. men of the three b’s reckoned their conversational dates by the visits of the youth; if a storm hung over the mountains some- one might remark: “it looks like jerry strann is coming,” and such a remark was always received in gloomy silence; mothers had been known to hush their children by chanting: “jerry strann will get you if you don’t watch out.” yet he was not an the wild geese ogre with a red knife between his teeth. he stood at exactly the perfect romantic height; he was just six feet tall; he was as graceful as a young cotton- wood in a windstorm and he was as strong and tough as the roots of the mesquite. he was one of those rare men who are beautiful without being un- manly. his face was modelled with the care a praxiteles would lavish on a phoebus. his brown hair was thick and dark and every touch of wind stirred it, and his hazel eyes were brilliant with an enduring light—the inextinguishable joy of life. consider that there was no malice in jerry strann. but he loved strife as the young apollo loved strife —or a pure-blooded bull terrier. he fought with distinction and grace and abandon and was perfectly willing to use fists or knives or guns at the pleasure of the other contracting party. in another age, with armour and a golden chain and spurs, jerry strann would have been—but why think of that? swords are not forty-fives, and the twentieth century is not the thirteenth. he was, in fact, born just six hun- dred years too late. from his childhood he had thirsted for battle as other children thirst for milk: and now he rode anything on hoofs and threw a knife like a mexican—with either hand—and at short range he did snap shooting with two revolvers that made rifle experts sick at heart. however, the men of the three b’s, as everyone understands, are not gentle or long-enduring, and you will wonder why this young destroyer was al- lowed to range at large so long. there was a vital the wild geese frolic the young men of the community gathered around him, for jerry paid all scores and the red- eye flowed in his path like wine before the coming of bacchus; where jerry went there was never a dull moment, and young men love action. so it happened that when he rode into brownsville this day he was the leader of a cavalcade. rumour rode before them, and doors were locked and windows were darkened, and men sat in the darkness within with their guns across their knees. for browns- ville lay at the extreme northern tip of the triangle and it was rarely visited by jerry; and it is well established that men fear the unfamiliar more than the known. as has been said, jerry headed the train of revel- lers, partially because it was most unwise to cut in ahead of jerry and partially because there was not a piece of horseflesh in the three b’s which could outfoot his chestnut. it was a gelding out of the loins of the north wind and sired by the devil him- self, and its spirit was one with the spirit of jerry strann ; perhaps because they both served one mas- ter. the cavalcade came with a crash of racing hoofs in a cloud of dust. but in the middle of the street jerry raised his right arm stiflly overhead with a whoop and brought his chestnut to a sliding stop; the cloud of dust rolled lazily on ahead. the young men gathered quickly around the leader, and there was silence as they waited for him to speak—a si- lence broken only by the wheezing of the horses, jerry strann and the stench of sweating horseflesh was in every man’s nostrils. “who own’s that hoss ?” asked jerry strann, and pointed. he had stopped just opposite o’brien’s hotel, store,- blacksmith shop, and saloon, and by the hitch- ing rack was a black stallion. now, there are some men who carry tidings of their inward strength stamped on their foreheads and written in their eyes. in times of crises crowds will turn to such men and follow them as soldiers follow a captain; for it is patent at a glance that this is a man of men. it is likewise true that there are horses which stand out among their fellows, and this was such a horse. he was such a creature that, if he had been led to a barrier, the entire crowd at the race track would rise as one man and say: “what is that horse?” there were points in which some critics would find fault; most of the men of the mountain-desert, for in- stance, would have said that the animal was too lightly and delicately limbed for long endurance; but as the man of men bears the stamp of his great- ness in his forehead and his eyes, so it was with the black stallion. when the thunder of the cavalcade had rushed upon him down the street he had turned with catlike grace and raised his head to see; and his forehead and his eyes arrested jerry strann like a levelled rifle. looking at that proud head one for- got the body of, the horse, the symmetry of curves exquisite beyond the sculptor’s dream, the arching neck and the steel muscles; one was only conscious the wild geese of the great spirit. in human beings we refer to it as “personality” after a little pause, seeing that no one offered a suggestion as to the identity of the owner, strann said, softly: “that hoss is mine.” it caused a stir in the crowd of his followers. in the mountain-desert one may deal lightly with a man’s wife and lift a random cow or two and settle the score, at need, with a snug “forty-five” chunk of lead. but with horses it is different. a horse in the mountain-desert lies outside of all laws—and above all laws. it is greater than honour and dearer than love, and when a man’s horse is taken from him the men of the desert gather together and hunt the thief whether it be a day or whether it be a month, and when they have reached him they shoot him like a dog and leave his flesh to the buzzards and his bones to the merciless stars. for all of this there is a reason. but jerry strann swung from his mount, tossed the reins over the head of the chestnut, and walked towards the black with hungry eyes. he was careless, also, and venturing too close—the black whirled with his sudden, catlike agility, and two black hoofs lashed within a hair’s breadth of the man’s shoulder. there was a shout from the crowd, but jerry strann stepped back and smiled so that his teeth showed. “boys,” he said, but he was really speaking to himself, “there’s nothing in the world i want as bad as i want that hoss. nothing! i’m going to buy him; where’s the owner?” jerry strann “don’t look like a hoss a man would want to sell, jerry,” came a suggestion from the cavalcade, who had dismounted and now pressed behind their leader. jerry favoured the speaker with another of his enigmatic smiles: “oh,” he chuckled, “he’ll sell, all right! maybe he’s inside. you gents stick out here and watch for him; i’ll step inside.” and he strode through the swinging doors of the saloon. it was a dull time of day for o’brien, so he sat with his feet on the edge of the bar and sipped a tall glass of beer; he looked up at the welcome click of the doors, however, and then was instantly on his feet. the good red went out of his face and the freckles over his nose stood out like ink marks. “there’s a black hoss outside,” said jerry, “that i’m going to buy. where’s the owner p” “have a drink,’ said the bartender, and he forced an amiable smile. “i got business on my hands, not drinking,” said jerry strann. “lost your chestnut?” queried o’brien in con- cern. “the chestnut was all right until i seen the black. and now he ain’t a hoss at all. where’s the gent i want p” the bartender had fenced for time as long as possible. “over there,” he said, and pointed. it was a slender fellow sitting at a table in a cor- the wild geese ner of the long room, his sombrero pushed back on his head. he was playing solitaire and his back was towards jerry strann, who now made a brief sur- vey, hitched his cartridge belt, and approached the stranger with a grin. the man did not turn; he continued to lay down his cards with monotonous regularity, and while he was doing it he said in the gentlest voice that had ever reached the ear of jerry strann: “better stay where you are, stranger. my dog don’t like you.” and jerry strann perceived, under the shadow of the table, a blacker shadow, huge and formless in the gloom, and two spots of incandescent green twinkling towards him. he stopped; he even made a step back; and then he heard a stifled chuckle from the bartender. if it had not been for that untimely mirth of o’brien’s probably nothing of what followed would have passed into the history of the three b’s. chapter viii che gift-horse “you: dog is your own dog,” remarked ferry strann, still to the back of the card-laying stranger, “but this ain't your back-yard. keep your eye on him, or i’ll fix him so he won’t need watching!” so saying he made another step forward, and it brought a snarl from the dog; not one of those high- whining noises, but a deep guttural that sounded like indrawn breath. the gun of jerry strann leaped into his hand. “bart,” said the gentle-voiced stranger, “lie down and don’t talk." and he turned in his chair, pulled his hat straight, .and looked mildly upon the gun- man. an artist would have made much of that pic- ture, for there was in this man, as in strann, a sin- gular portion of beauty. it was not, however, free from objection, for he had not the open manliness of the larger of the two. indeed, a feminine grace and softness marked him; his wrists were as round as a girl’s, and his hands as slender and as delicately finished. whether it be the white-hot sun of sum- mer or the hurricane snows of winter, the climate of the mountain—desert roughens the skin, and it cuts away spare flesh, hewing out the face in angles; but the wild geese with this man there were no rough edges, but all ' was smoothed over and rounded with painful care; as if nature had concentrated in that birth to show what she could do. such fine workmanship, per- haps, would be appreciated more by women than by men; for men like a certain weight and bulk of bone and muscle—whereas this fellow seemed as light of body as he was of hand. he sat now watching strann with the utmost gravity. he had very large brown eyes of a puzzling quality; perhaps that was because there seemed to be no thought behind them and one caught the mystery and the wistfulness of some animals from a glance at him. the effect of that glance on strann was to make him grin again, and he at once banished the frown from his forehead and put away his gun; the big dog had slunk deeper into the shadow and closer to his master. “i’m strann. maybe you’ve heard of me.” “my name is barry,” said the other. “i’m sorry that i haven’t heard of you before.” and the sound of his voice made jerry strann grin again; it was such a low, soft voice with the velvet of a young girl’s tone in it; moreover, the brown eyes seemed to apologise for the ignorance concerning strann’s name. “you got a hoss out in front.” a nod of agreement. “what’s your price?” “none.” “no price? look here,” argued strann, “every- the gift-horse thing’s got a price, and i got to have that hoss, un- derstand? got to! i ain’t bargaining. i won’t try to beat you down. you just set a figger and i’ll cover it. i guess that’s square l” “he ain’t a gentle hoss,” said barry. “maybe you wouldn’t like him.’ “oh, that’s all right about being gentle,” chuckled strann. then he checked his mirth and stared piercineg at the other to make out if there were a secret mockery. it could not, however, be possible. i the eyes were as gravely apologetic as ever. he continued: “i seen the hell-fire in him. that’s what stopped me like a bullet. i like ’em that way. much rather have ’em with a fight. well, let’s have your price. hey, o’brien, trot out your red-eye; i’m going to do some business here!” o’brien came hastily, with drinks, and while they waited strann queried politely: “belong around these parts ?” “no,” answered the other softly. “no? where you come from?” , “over there,” said barry, and waved a graceful hand towards half the points of the compass. “h-m-m!” muttered strann, and once more he bent a keen gaze upon his companion. the drinks were now placed before them. “here,” he con- cluded, “is to the black devil outside!” and he swallowed the liquor at a gulp, but as he replaced the empty glass on the table he observed, with breathless amazement, that the whiskey glass of the stranger was still full; he had drunk his chaser! the wild geese “now, by god!” said strann in a ringing voice, and struck a heavy hand upon the top of the table. he regained his control, however, instantly. “now about that price !” “i don't know what horses are worth,” replied barry. “to start, then—five hundred bucks in cold cash —gold l—for your—what’s his name p” “satan.” i‘eh . , ((satamll “h-m-m!” murmured strann again. “five hun- dred for satan, then. how about it p” “if you can ride him,” began the stranger. “oh, hell,” smiled strann with a large and care- less gesture, “i’ll ride him, all right.” “then i would let you take him for nothing,” concluded barry. “you’d—what p" said strann. then he rose slowly from his chair and shouted; instantly the swinging doors broke open and a throng of faces appeared at the gap. “boys, this gent here is going to give me the black—ha, ha, hal—if i can ride him l” he turned back on barry. “they’ve heard it,” he concluded, “and this bargain is going to stick just this way. if your hoss can throw me the deal’s off. eh p” “oh, yes,” nodded the brown-eyed man. “what’s the idea p” asked one of jerry’s followers as the latter stepped through the doors of the saloon onto the street. the gift-horse “i dunno,” said jerry. “that gent looks kind of simple; but it ain’t my fault if he made a rotten bar- gain. here, you !” and he seized the bridle-reins of the black stallion. speed, lightning speed, was what saved him, for the instant his fingers touched the leather satan twisted his head and snapped like an angry dog. the teeth clicked beside strann’s shoulder as he leaped back. he laughed savagely. “that’ll be took out of him,” he announced, “and damned quick!” here the voice of barry was heard, saying: “i’ll help you mount, mr. strann.” and he edged his way through the little crowd until he stood at the head of the stallion. “look out!” warned strann in real alarm, “or he’ll take your head off i” but barry was already beside his horse, and, with his back towards those vicious teeth, he drew the reins over its head. as for the stallion, it pricked one ear forward and then the other, and muzzled the man’s shoulder confidingly. there was a liberal chorus of astonished oaths from the gathering. “i’ll hold his head while you get on,” suggested barry, turning his mild eyes upon strann again. “well,” muttered the big man, “may i be eternally damned !” he added: “all right. hold his head, and i’ll ride him without pulling leather. is that square?” barry nodded absently. his slender fingers were patting the velvet nose of the stallion and he was the wild geese talking to it in an affectionate undertone—meaning- less words, perhaps, such as a mother uses to soothe a child. when strann set his foot in the stirrup and gathered up the reins the black horse cringed and shuddered; it was not a pleasant thing to see; it was like a dog crouching under the suspended whip. it was worse than that; it was almost the horror of a man who shivers at the touch of an unclean animal. there was not a sound from the crowd; and every grin was wiped out. jerry strann swung into the saddle lightly. _ there he sat, testing the stirrups. they were too short by inches but he refused to have them length- ened. he poised his quirt and tugged his hat lower over his eyes. “turn him loose!” he shouted. “hei !” and his shrill yell went down the street and the echoes sent it barking back from wall to wall; barry stepped back from the head of the black. but for an instant the horse did not stir. he was trembling violently, but his blazing eyes were fixed upon the face of his owner. barry raised his hand. and then it happened. it was like the release of a coiled watch-spring; the black whirled as a top spins and strann sagged far to the left; before he could recover the stallion was away in a flash, like a racer leaving the barrier and reaching full speed in almost a stride. not far—hardly the breadth of the street—before he pitched up in a long leap as if to clear a barrier, landed stiff-legged with a sickening jar, whirled again like a spinning top, and darted the gift-horse straight back. and jerry strann pulled leather—- with might and main—but the short stirrups were against him, and above all the suddenness of the start had taken him off guard for all his readiness. when the stallion dropped stiff-legged jerry was thrown forward and an unlucky left foot jarred loose from the stirrup ; and when the horse whirled strann was flung from the saddle. it was a clean fall. he twisted over in the air as he fell and landed in deep dust. the black stallion had reached his master and now he turned, in that same catlike man- ner, and watched with pricking ears as strann dragged himself up from the dust. there was no shout of laughter—no cheer for that fall, and without a smile they watched strann returning. big o’brien had seen from his open door and now he laid a hand on the shoulder of one of the men and whispered at his ear: “there’s going to be trouble; bad trouble, billy. go for fatty matthews—he’s a deputy marshal now—and get him here as quick as you can. run!” the other spared time for a last glance at strann and then hurried down the street. now, a man who can lose and smile is generally considered the most graceful of failures, but the smile of jerry strann as he walked slowly back wor- ried his followers. “we all hit dust sometime,” he philosophized. “but one try don’t prove nothin’. i ain’t near through with that hoss !” barry turned to strann. if there had been mock- the wild geese cry in his eyes or a smile on his lips as he faced jerry there would have been a gun play on the spot; but, instead, the brown eyes were as dumbly apolo- getic as ever. “we didn’t talk about two tries,” he observed. “we talk about it now,” said strann. there was one man in the crowd a little too old to be dangerous and therefore there was one man who was in a position to speak openly to strann. it was big o’brien. “jerry, you named your game and made your play and lost. i guess you ain’t going to turn up a hard loser. nobody plays twice for the same pot.” the hazel eye of strann was grey with anguish of the spirit as he looked from o’brien to the crowd and from the crowd to satan, and from satan to his meek-eyed owner. nowhere was there a defiant eye or a glint of scorn on which he could wreak his wrath. he stood poised in his anger for the space of a breath; then, in the sharp struggle, his better nature conquered. “come on in, all of you,” he called. ‘we’ll liquor, and forget this." chapter ix battle light o’brien pressed close to barry. “partner,” he said rapidly, “you’re clear now— you’re clear of more hell that you ever dream. now climb that hoss of yours and feed him leather till you get clear of brownsville—and if i was you i’d never come within a day’s ride of the three ’! again.” the mild, brown eyes widened. “i don’t like crowds,” murmured barry. “you’re wise, kid,” grinned the bartender—“a hell of a lot wiser than you know right now. on your way l” and he turned to follow the crowd into the saloon. but jerry strann stood at the swinging doors, watching, and he saw barry linger behind. “are you coming?” he called. “i got an engagement,” answered the meek voioe. “you got another engagement here,” mocked strann. “understand?” the other hesitated for an instant, and then sighed deeply. “i suppose i’ll stay,” he murmured, and walked into the bar. jerry strann was smiling in the way that showed his teeth. as barry passed : the wild geese he said softly: “i see we ain’t going to have no trouble, you and me!” and he moved to clap his strong hand on the shoulder of the smaller man. oddly enough, the hand missed, for barry swerved from beneath it as a wolf swerves from the shadow of a falling branch. no perceptible effort—no sud- den start of tensed muscles, but a movement so smooth that it was almost unnoticeable. but the hand of strann fell through thin air. “you’re quick,” he said. “if you was as quick with your hands as you are with your feet ” barry paused and the melancholy brown eyes dwelt on the face of strann. “oh, hell!” snorted the other, and turned on his heel to the bar. “drink up l” he commanded. a shout and a snarl from the further end of the room. “a wolf, by god!” yelled one of the men. the owner of the animal made his way with un- obtrusive swiftness the length of the room and stood between the dog and a man who fingered the butt of his gun nervously. “he won’t hurt you none,” murmured that softly assuring voice. “the hell he wont !” responded the other. “he took a pass at my leg just now and dam’ near took it off. got teeth like the blades of a pocket-knife !” “you’re on a cold trail, sam,” broke in one of the others. “that aint any wolf. look at him now!” the big, shaggy animal had slunk to the feet of battle light his master and with head abased stared furtively up into barry’s face. a gesture served as sufficient command, and he slipped shadow-like into the cor- ner and crouched with his head on his paws and the incandescent green of his eyes glimmering; barry sat down in a chair nearby. o’brien was happily spinning bottles and glasses the length of the bar; there was the chiming of glass and the rumble of contented voices. “red-eye all ’round,” said the loud voice of jerry strann, “but there’s one out. who’s out? oh, it's him. hey o’brien, lemonade for the lady.” it brought a laugh, a deep, good-natured laugh, and then a chorus of mockery; but barry stepped unconfused to the bar, accepted the glass of lemo— nade, and when the others downed their fire-water, he sipped his drink thoughtfully. outside, the wind had risen, and it shook the hotel and carried a score of faint voices as it whirred around corners and through cracks. perhaps it was one of those voices which made the big dog lift its head from its paws and whine softly! surely it was something he heard which caused barry to straighten at the bar and cant his head slightly to one side—but, as certainly, no one else in the bar-room heard it. barry set down his glass. “mr. strann p” he called. and the gentle voice carried faintly down through the uproar of the bar. “sister wants to speak to you,” suggested o’biien to strann. the wild geese “well?” roared the latter, “what d’you want?” the others were silent to listen; and they smiled in anticipation. “if you don’t mind, much,” said the musical voice, “i think i’ll be moving along.” there is an obscure little devil living in all of us. it makes the child break his own toys; it makes the husband strike the helpless wife; it makes the man beat the cringing, whining dog. the greatest of american writers has called it the imp of the perverse. and that devil came in jerry strann and made his heart small and cold. if he had been by nature the bully and the ruffian there would have been no point in all that followed, but the heart of jerry strann was ordinarily as warm as the yellow sunshine itself; and it was a common saying in the three b’s that jerry strann would take from a. child what he would not endure from a mountain- lion. women loved jerry strann, and children would crowd about his knees, but this day the small demon was in him. “you want to be moving along” mimicked the devil in jerry strann. “well, you wait a while. i aint through with you yet. maybe—” he paused and searched his mind. “you’ve given me a fall, and maybe you can give the rest of us— a laugh l” the chuckle of appreciation went up the bar and down it again. “i want to ask you,’ went on the devil in jerry strann, “where you got your hoss ?" i battle light “he was running wild,” came the gentle answer. “ i took a walk, one day, and brought him in.” a pause. “maybe,” grinned the big man, “you creased him?” for it is one of the most difficult things in the world to capture a wild horse, and some hunters, in their desperation at seeing the wonderful animals escape, have tried to “crease” them. that is, they strive to shoot so that the bullet will barely graze the top of the animal’s vertebrae, just behind the ears, stunning the horse and making it helpless for the capture. but necessarily such shots are made from a distance, and little short of a miracle ‘is needed to make the bullet strike true—for a fraction of an inch too low means death. so another laugh of appreciation ran around the bar-room at the mention of creasing. “no,” answered barry, “i went out with a. halter and after a while satan got used to me and followed me home.” they waited only long enough to draw deep breath; then came a long yell of delight. but the obscure devil was growing stronger and stronger in strann. he beat on the bar until he got silence. then he leaned over to meet the eyes of barry. “that,” he remarked through his teeth, “is a damned—lie !” there is only one way of answering that word in the mountain-desert, and barry did not take it. the melancholy brown eyes widened; he sighed, and the wild geese raising his glass of lemonade sipped it slowly. came a sick silence in the bar-room. men turned their eyes towards each other and then flashed them away again. it is not good that one who has the eyes and the tongue of a man should take water from another—even from a jerry strann. and even jerry strann withdrew his eyes slowly from his prey, and shuddered; the sight of the most grisly death is not so horrible as cowardice. and the devil which was still strong in strann made him look about for a new target; barry was removed from all danger by an incredible barrier. he found that new target at once, for his glance reached to the corner of the room and found there the greenish, glimmering eyes of the dog. he smote upon the bar. “is this a damned kennel?” he shouted. “do i got to drink in a barnyard? what’s the dog doin’ here p” and he caught up the heavy little whiskey glass and hurled it at the crouching dog. it thudded heavily, but it brought no yelp of pain; instead, a black thunderbolt leaped from the corner and lunged down the room. it was the silence of the attack that made it terrible, and strann cursed and pulled his gun. he could never have used it. he was a whole half second too late, but before the dog sprang a voice cut in: “bart!” it checked the animal in its very leap; it landed on the floor and slid on stifliy extended legs to the feet of strann. battle light “bart!” rang the voice again. - and the beast, flattening to the floor, crawle backwards, inch by inch; it was slavering, and there was a ravening madness in its eyes. “look at it!” cried strann. “by god, it’s mad!” and he raised his gun to draw the bead. “wait!” called the same voice which had checked the spring of the dog. surely it could not have come from the lips of barry. it held a resonance of chiming metal; it was not loud, but it carried like a brazen bell. “don’t do it, strann l” and it came to every man in the bar-room that it was unhealthy to stand between the two men at that instant; a sudden path opened from barry to strann. “bart!” came the command again. “heel!” the dog obeyed with a slinking swiftness; jerry- strann put up his gun and smiled. “i don’t take a start on no man,” he announced quite pleasantly. “i don’t need to. but—you yaller hearted houn’-—get out from between. when i make my draw i’m goin’ to kill that damn wolf.” now, the fighting face of jerry strann was well known in the three b’s, and it was something for men to remember until they died in a peaceful bed. yet there was not a glance, from the bystanders, for strann. they stood back against the wall, flatten- ing themselves, and they stared, fascinated, at the slender stranger. not that his face had grown ugly by a sudden metamorphosis. it was more beautiful than ever, for the man was smiling. it was his eyes the wild geese which held them. behind the brown a light was growing, a yellow and unearthly glimmer which one felt might be seen on the darkest night. there was none of the coward in jerry strann. he looked full into that yellow, glimmering, chang- ing light—he looked steadily—and a strange feeling swept over him. no, it was not fear. long experi- ence had taught him that there was not another man in the three b’s, with the exception of his own terrible brother, who could get a gun out of the leather faster than he, but now it seemed to jerry strann that he was facing something more than mortal speed and human strength and surety. he'could not tell in what the feeling was based. but it was a. giant, dim foreboding holding dominion over other men’s lives, and it sent a train of chilly weakness through his blood. “it’s a habit of mine,” said jerry strann, “to kill mad dogs when i see ’em.” and he smiled again. they stood for another long instant, facing each other. it was plain that every muscle in strann’s body was growing tense; the very smile was frozen on his lips. when he moved, at last, it was a con- vulsive jerk of his arm, and it was said, afterward, that his gun was all clear of the leather before the calm stranger stirred. no eye followed what hap- pened. can the eye follow such speed as the crack- ing lash of a whip? there was only one report. the forefinger of strann did not touch his trigger, but the gun slipped down and dangled loosely from his hand. he made battle light a pace forward with his smile grown to an idiotic thing and a patch of red sprang out in the centre of his breast. then he lurched headlong to the floor. chapter x “sweet adeline” fatty matthews came panting through the doors. he was one of those men who have a lei- surely build and a purely american desire for ac- tion; so that he was always hurrying and always puffing. if he mounted a horse, sweat started out from every pore; if he swallowed a glass of red-eye he breathed hard thereafter. yet he was capable of great and sustained exertions, as many and many a man in the three b’s could testify. he was ashamed of his fat. imagine the soul of a bald eagle in the body of a poland china sow anl you begin to have some idea of fatty matthews. fat filled his boots as with water and he made a “squnching” sound when he walked; fat rolled along his jowls; fat made his very forehead flabby; fat almost buried his eyes. but nothing could conceal the hawk-line of his nose or the gleam of those half-buried eyes. his hair was short-cropped, grey, and stood on end like bristles, and he was in the habit of using his panting breath in humming—for that concealed the puffing. so fatty matthews came through the doors and his little, concealed eyes dart- cd from face to face. then he kneeled beside strann. ° . “sweet adeline” l he was humming as he opened jerry’s shirt; he was humming as he pulled from his bag—for fatty was almost as much doctor as he was marshal, cow- puncher, miner, and gambler—a roll of cotton and another roll of bandages. the crowd grouped around him, fascinated, and at his directions some of them brought water and others raised and turned the body while the marshal made the bandages; jerry strann was unconscious. fatty matthews be~ gan to intersperse talk in his humming. “you was plugged from in front—my beauty— was you p” grunted fatty, and then running the roll of bandage around the wounded man’s chest he hummed a bar of: “sweet adeline, my adeline, at night, dear heart, for you i pine.” “was jerry lookin’ the other way when he was potted p” asked fatty of the bystanders. “o’brien, you seen it p” o’brien cleared his throat. “i didn’t see nothin’,” he said mildly, and began to mop his bar, which was already polished beyond belief. “well,” muttered fatty matthews, “all these birds get it. and jerry was some overdue. lew, you seen it p” “yep.” “some drunken bum do it p” lew leaned to the ear of the kneeling marshal and whispered briefly. fatty opened his eyes and the wild geese cursed until his panting forced him to break and hum. “beat him to the draw ?" he gasped at length. “jerry’s gun was clean out before the stranger made a move,” asserted lew. “it aint possible,” murmured i'le deputy, and hummed softly: “in all my dreams, your fair face hem.” he added sharply, as he finished the bandaging: “where’d he head for ?” “no place,” answered lew. “he just now went out the door.” the deputy swore again, but he added, enlight- ened: “going to plead self-defense, eh?” big o’brien leaned over the bar. “listen, fatty,” he said earnestly, “there aint no doubt of it. jerry had his war-paint on. he tried to kill this feller barry’s wolf." “wolf ?" cut in the deputy marshal. “‘dog, i guess,” qualified the bar-tender. “i dunno. anyway, jerry made all the leads; this barry simply done the finishing. i say, don’t put this barry under arrest. you want to keep him here for mac strann.” “that’s my business,” growled fatty. “hey, half a dozen of you gents. hook on to jerry and take him up to a room. i’ll be with you in a minute.” and while his directions were being obeyed he trotted heavily up the length of the bar-room and out the swinging doors. outside, he found only / “sweet adeline” one man, and in the act of mounting a black horse; the deputy marshal made straight for that man until a huge black dog appeared from nowhere blocking his path. it was a silent dog, but its teeth and eyes said enough to stop fatty in full career. “are you barry?” he asked. “that’s me. come here, bart.” the big dog backed to the other side of the horse without shifting his eyes from the marshal. the latter gingerly approached the rider, who sat per- fectly at ease in the saddle; most apparently he was in no haste to leave. “barry,” said the deputy, “don’t make no play when i tell you who i am; i don’t mean you no harm, but my name’s matthews, and ” he drew back the flap of his vest enough to show the glitter of his badge of office. all the time his little beady eyes watched barry with bird-like intentness. the rider made not a move. and now matthews noted more in detail the feminine slenderness of the man and the large, placid eyes. he stepped closer and dropped a confidential hand on the pommel of the saddle. “son,” he muttered, “i hear you made a clean play inside. now, i know strann and his way. he was in wrong. there aint a doubt of it, and if i held you, you’d get clear on self-defense. so i aint going to lay a hand on you. you’re free: but one thing more. you cut off there—see ?—and bear away north from the three b’s. you got a boss that is, and believe me, you’ll need him before the wild geese i! you’re throug . he lowered his voice and his eyes bulged with the terror of his tidings: “feed him the leather; ride to beat hell; never stop while your hoss can raise a trot; and then slide off your hoss and get another. son, in three days mac strann’ll be on your trail!” he stepped back and waved his arms. “now, vamos!” the black stallion flicked back its ears and winced from the outflung hands, but the rider remained im- perturbed. “i never heard of mac strann,” said barry. “y u never heard of mac strann p” echoed the other. “but i’d like to meet him,” said barry. the deputy marshal blinked his eyes rapidly, as though he needed to clear his vision. “son,” he said hoarsely. “i c’n see you’re game. but don’t make a fall play. if mac strann gets you, he’ll california you like a yearling. you won’t' have no chance. you’ve done for jerry, there aint a doubt of that, but jerry to mac is like a tame cat to a mountain-lion. lad, i c’n see you’re a stranger to these parts, but ask me your questions and i’ll tell you the best way to go.” barry slipped from the saddle. he said: “i’d like to know the best place to put up my hoss.” the deputy marshal was speechless. “but i s’pose,” went on barry, “i can stable him over there behind the hotel.” “sweet adeline” matthews pushed off his sombrero and rubbed his short fingers through his hair. anger and amazement still choked him, but he controlled him- self by a praiseworthy effort. “barry,” he said, “i don’t make you out. maybe you figure to wait till mac strann gets to town be- fore you leave; maybe you think your hoss can out- run anything on four feet. and maybe it can. but listen to me: mac strann ain’t fast on a trail, but the point about him is that he never leaves it! you can go through rain and over rocks, but you can’t never shake mac strann—not once he gets the wind of you.” “thanks,” returned the gentle-voiced stranger. “i guess maybe he’ll be worth meeting.” and so saying he turned on his heel and walked calmly towards the big stables behind the hotel and at his heels followed the black dog and the black horse. as for deputy marshal matthews, he moist- ened his lips to whistle, but when he pursed them, not a sound came. he turned at length into the bar-room and as he walked his eye was vacant. he was humming brokenly: “sweet adeline, my adeline, at night, dear heart, for you i pine.” inside, he took firm hold upon the bar with both pudgy hands. “o’brien,” he said, “red-eye.” he pushed away the small glass which the bar- the wild geese tender spun towards him and seized in its place a mighty water-tumbler. “o’brien,” he explained, “i need strength, not encouragement.” and filling the glass nearly to the brim he downed the huge potion at a single draught. chapter xi the buzzard most animals have their human counterparts, and in that room where jerry strann had fallen a whim- sical observer might have termed jerry, with his tawny head, the lion, and o’brien behind the bar, a shaggy bear, and the deputy marshal a wolverine, fat but dangerous, and here stood a man as ugly and hardened as a desert cayuse, and there was dan barry, sleek and supple as a panther; but among the rest this whimsical observer must have noticed a fellow of prodigious height and negligible breadth, a structure of sinews and bones that promised to rattle in the wind, a long, narrow head, a nose like a beak, tiny eyes set close together and shining like polished buttons, and a vast adam’s apple that rolled up and down the scraggy throat. he might have done for the spirit of famine in an old play; but every dweller of the mountain-desert would have found an apter expression by calling him the buzz- ard of the scene. through his prodigious ugliness he was known far and wide as “haw-haw” lang- ley; for on occasion langley laughed, and his laugh- ter was an indescribable sound that lay somewhere between the braying of a mule and the cawing of the wild geese a crow. but haw-haw langley was usually silent, and he would sit for hours without words, twist- ing his head and making little pecking motions as his eyes fastened on face after face. all the bitter- ness of the mountain-desert was in haw-haw lang- ley ; if his body looked like a buzzard, his soul was the soul of the vulture itself, and therefore he had followed the courses of jerry strann up and down the range. he stuffed his gorge with the fragments of his leader’s food; he fed his soul with the dam- gers which jerry strann met and conquered. in the bar-room haw-haw langley had stood‘ turning his sharp little eyes from jerry strann to dan barry, and from dan barry back to strann; and when the shot was fired something like a grin twisted his thin lips; and when the spot of red glowed on the breast of the staggering man, the eyes of haw-haw blazed as if with the reflection of a de- vouring fire. afterwards he lingered for a few minutes making no effort to aid the fallen man, but when he had satisfied himself with the extent of the injury, and when he had noted the froth of bloody bubbles which stained the lips of strann, haw-haw langley turned and stalked from the room. his eyes were points of light and his soul was crammed to repletion with ill-tidings. at the hitching rack he stepped into the saddle of a diminutive horse, whirled it into the street 'with a staggering jerk of the reins, and buried the spurs deep in the cow-pony’s flanks. the poor brute snorted and flirted its heels in the air, but langley the buzzard wrapped his long legs around the barrel of his mount and goaded it again. his smile, which began with the crack of barry’s gun in o’brien’s place, did not die out until he was many a mile away, headed far up through the mountains; but as he put peak after peak behind him and as the white light of the day diminished and puffs of blue shadow drowned the valleys, the grin disappeared from haw-haw’s face. he be- came keenly intent on his course until, having reached the very summit of a tall hill, he came to a halt and peered down before him. it was nearly dusk by this time and the eyes of an ordinary man could not distinguish a tree from a rock at any great distance; but it seemed that haw-haw was gifted with eyes extraordinary—the buzzard at the top of its sky-towering circles does not see the brown carcass far below with more certainty than haw-haw sensed his direction. he waited only a few seconds before he rolled the rowel once more along the scored flanks of his mustang and then plunged down the slope at a reck- less gallop. his destination was a hut, or rather a lean-to, that pressed against the side of the mountain, a crazy structure with a single length of stove pipe leaning awry from the roof. and at the door of this house haw-haw langley drew rein and stepped to the ground. the interior of the hut was dark, but haw-haw stole with the caution of a wild in- dian to the entrance and reconnoitered the interior, the wild geese probing every shadowy corner with his glittering eyes. for several long moments he continued this examination, and even when he was satisfied that there was no one in the place he did not enter, but moved back several paces from the door and swept the sides of the mountains with an uneasy eye. he made out, a short distance from the door, a picketed horse which now reared up its head from the miser- able scattering of grass on which it fed and stared at the stranger. the animal must have bulked at least twice as large as the mount which had brought langley to the mountain-side. and it was muscled even out of proportion to its bulk. the head was so tremendously broad that it gave an almost square appearance, the neck, short and thick, the forelegs disproportionately small but very sturdy; and the whole animal was built on a slope towards the hind quarters which seemed to equal in massiveness all the rest of the body. one would have said that the horse was a freak meant by nature for the climb- ing of hills. and to glance at it no man could sup- pose that those ponderous limbs might be moved to a gallop. however, haw-haw langley well knew the powers of the ugly beast, and he even made a detour and walked about the horse to view it more closely. now he again surveyed the darkening landscape and then turned once more to the house. this time he entered with the boldness of a possessor ap- proaching his hearth. he lighted a match and with this ignited a lantern hanging from the wall to the the buzzard right of the door. the furnishings of the dwelling were primitive beyond compare. there was no sign of a chair; a huddle of blankets on the bare boards of the floor made the bed; a saddle hung by one stirrup on one side and on the other side leaned the skins of bob~cats. lynx, and coyotes on their stretching and drying boards. haw-haw took down the lantern and examined the pelts. the animals had been skinned with the utmost dexterity. as far as he could see the hides had not been marred in a single place by slips of the knife, nor were there any blood stains to attest hurried work, or careless shooting in the first place. the inner sur- faces shone with the pure white of old parchment. but haw-haw gave his chief attention to the legs and the heads of the skins, for these were the places where carelessness or stupidity with the knife were sure to show; but the work was perfect in every respect. until even the critical haw-haw langley was forced to step back and shake his head in ad- miration. he continued his survey of the room. in one corner stood a rifle and a shot-gun; in an- other was a pile of provisions—bacon, flour, salt, meal, and little else. spices and condiments were apparently unknown to this hermit; nor was there even the inevitable coffee, nor any of the molasses or other sweets which the tongue of the desert- mountainer cannot resist. flour, meat, and water, it seemed, made up the entire fare of the trapper. for cookery there was an unboarded space in the very centre of the floor with a number of rocks the wild geese grouped around in the hole and blackened with soot. the smoke must rise, therefore, and escape through the small hole in the centre of the roof. the length of stove-pipe which showed on the roof must have been simply the inhabitant’s idea of giving the last delicate touch of civilisation; it was like a tassel to the cap of the turk. as haw-haw’s observations reached this point his sharp ear caught the faint whinny of the big horse outside. he started like one caught in a guilty act, and sprang to the lantern. however, with his hands upon it he thought better of it, and he placed the light against the wall; then he turned to the entrance and looked anxiously up the hillside. what he saw was a form grotesque beyond be- lief. it seemed to be some gigantic wild beast— mountain lion or great bear, though of a size be- yond credence—which slowly sprawled down the slope walking erect upon its hind feet with its fore- legs stretched out horizontal, as if it were warn- ing all who might behold it away. haw-haw grew pale and involuntarily reached for his gun as he first beheld this apparition, but instantly he saw the truth. it was a man who carried a burden. down the mountain-side. the burden was the carcass of a bear; the man had drawn the forelegs over his shoulders—his jutting elbows making what had seemed the outstretched arms—and above the head of the burden-bearer rose the great head of the bear. as the man came closer the animal’s head flopped to one side and a red tongue lolled from the buzzard its mouth. haw-haw langley moved back step by step through the cabin until his shoulders struck the opposite wall, and at the same time mac strann entered the room. he had no car for his visitor’s hail, but cast his burden to the floor. it dropped with a shock that shook the house from the rattling stove-pipe to the crackling boards. for a moment mac strann regarded his prey. then he stooped and drew open the great jaws. the mouth within was not so red as the bloody hands of mac strann; and the big, white fangs, for some reason, did not seem terrible in comparison with the hunter. hav- ing completed his survey he turned slowly upon haw-haw langley and lowered his eyebrows to stare. so doing, the light for the first time struck full upon his face. haw-haw langley hit his thin lips and his eyes widened almost to the normal. for the ugliness of mac strann was that most terrible species of ugliness—not disfigured features but a discord which pervaded the man and came from within him—like a sound. feature by feature his face was not ugly. the mouth was very large, to be sure, and the jaw too heavily square, and the nose needed somewhat greater length and less width for real comeliness. the eyes were truly fine, being very large and black, though when mac strann lowered his bush of brows his eyes were prac- tically reduced to gleams of light in the consequent shadow. there was a sharp angle in his forehead, the lines of it meeting in the centre and shelving up . the wild geese and down. one felt, unpleasantly, that there were heavy muscles overlaying that forehead. one felt that to the touch it would be a pad of flesh, and it gave to mac strann, more than any other feature, a peculiar impression of resistless physical power. in the catalogue of his features, indeed, there was nothing severely objectionable; but out of it came a feeling of too much, strength! a glance at his body reinsured the first thought. it was not normal. his shirt bulged tightly at the shoulders with mus- cles. he was not tall-inches shorter than his brother jerry, for instance—but the bulk of his body was incredible. his torso was a veritable barrel that bulged out both in the chest and the back. and even the tremendous thighs of mac strann were perceptibly bowed out by the weight which they had to carry. and there was about his management of his arms a peculiar awkwardness which only the very strongest of men exhibit—as if they were bur- dened by the weight of their mere dangling hands. this giant, having placed his eyes in shadow, peered for a long moment at haw-haw langley, but very soon his glance began to waver. it flashed towards the wall—it came back and rested upon langley again. he was like a dog, restless under a steady stare. and as haw-haw langley noted this a glitter of joy came in his beady eyes. “you’re jerry’s man,” said mac strann at length. there was about his voice the same fleshy qual- ity that was in his face; it came literally from his stomach, and it made a peculiar rustling sound such, the buzzard as comes after one has eaten sticky sweet things. people could listen to the voice of mac strann and forget that he was speaking words. the articula- tion ran together in a sort of glutinous mass. “i’m a friend of jerry’s," said the other. "i’m langley.” the big man stretched out his hand. the hair grew black, down to the knuckles; the blood of the bear still streaked it; it was large enough to be an organism with independent life. but when lang- ley, with some misgiving, trusted his own bony fin— gers within that grasp, in was only as if something fleshy, soft, and bloodless had closed over them. when his hand was released he rubbed it covertly against his trowser leg—t remove dirt—restore the circulation. he did not know why. “who’s bothering jerry?” asked mac strann. “and where is he?” he went to the wall without waiting for an an- swer and took down the saddle. now the cow- puncher’s saddle is a heavy mass of leather and steel, and the saddle of mac strann was far larger than the ordinary. yet he took down the saddle as one might remove a card from a rack. haw- haw langley moved towards the door, to give him- self a free space for exit. “jerry’s hurt,” he said, and he watched. there was a ripple of pain on the face of mac strann. “hoss kicked him—fall on him ?” he asked. “it weren’t a hoss.” the wild geese “huh? a cow?” “it weren’t no cow. it weren’t no animal.” mac strann faced full upon langley. when he spoke it seemed as if it were difficult for him to manage his lips. they lifted an appreciable space before there was any sound. “what was it p" (ca mm), langley edged back towards the door. “what with p” (‘a $ .!) and langley saw the danger that was coming even before mac strann moved. he gave a shrill yelp of terror and whirled and sprang for the open. but mac strann sprang after him and reached. his whole body seemed to stretch like an elastic thing, and his arm grew longer. the hand fastened on the back of langley, plucked him up, and jammed him against the wall. haw-haw crumpled to the floor. he gasped: “it weren’t me, mac. for gawd’s sake, it weren’t me l” his face was a study. there was abject terror in it, and yet there was also a sort of grisly joy, and his eyes feasted on the silent agony of mac strann. “where p” asked mac strann. “mac,” pleaded the vulture who cringed on the floor, “gimme your word you aint goin’ to hold it agin me.” “tell me,” said the other, and he framed the face of the vulture between his large hands. if he press‘ the buzzard ed the heels of those hands together bones would snap, and haw-haw langley knew it. and yet nothing but a wild delight could have set that glitter in his little eyes, just as nothing but a palsy of terror could have set his limbs twitching so. “who shot him from behind ?” demanded the giant. i “it wasn’t from behind,” croaked the bearer of ill-tidings. “it was from the front.” “while he wasn’t looking?” “no. he was beat to the draw.” “you’re lyin’ to me,” said mac strann slowly. “so help me god!” cried langley. “who done it?” “a little feller. he aint half as big as me. he’s got a voice like kitty jackson, _the school-marm; and and he’s got eyes like a starved pup. it was him that done it.” the eyes of mac strann grew vaguely meditative. “nope,” he mused, in answer to his own thoughts, “i won’t use no rope. i’ll use my hands. where’d the bullet land?” a fresh agony of trembling shook langley, and a fresh sparkle came in his glance. “betwixt his ribs, mac. and right on through. and it come out his back!” but there was not an answering tremor in mac strann. he let his hands fall away from the .face of the vulture, and he caught up the saddle. lang- ley straightened himself. he peered anxiously at strann, as if he feared to miss something. the wild geese “i dunno whether he’s livin’ right now, or not,” suggested haw-haw. but mac strann was already striding through the door. sweat was pouring from the lather-flecked bodies of their horses when they drew rein, at last, at the goal of their long, fierce ride; and haw-haw slunk behind the broad form of mac strann when the latter strode into the hotel. then the two started for the room in which, they were told, lay jerry strann. “there it is,” whispered haw-haw, as they reached the head of the stairs. “the door’s open. if he was dead the d r would be closed, most like.” they stood in the hall and looked in upon a strange picture, for flat in the bed lay jerry strann, his face very white and oddly thin, and over him leaned the man who had shot him down. they heard dan barry’s soft, gentle voice query: “how you feelin’ now, partner?” he leaned close beside the other, his fingers upon the wrist of jerry. - “a pile better,” muttered jerry strann. “seems like i got more’n a fightin’ chance to pull through now.” “jest you keep lyin’ here quiet,” advised dan barry, “and don’t stir around none. don’t start no worryin’. you’re goin’ to live ’ long as you don’t lose no more blood. keep your thoughts quiet. they ain’t no cause for you to do nothin’ but jest keep the buzzard your eyes closed, and breathe, and think of yaller sunshine, and green grass in the spring, and the wind lazyin’ the clouds along across the sky. that’s all you got to think about. jest keep quiet, partner.” “it’s easy to do it now you’re with me. seems like they’s a pile of strength runnin’ into me from the tips of your fingers, my frien’. and—i was some fool to start that fight with you, barry.” “jest forget all that,” murmured the other. “and keep your voice down. i’ve forgot it; you forget it. it aint never happened.” “what’s it mean?” frowned mac strann, whis- pering to haw-haw. the eyes of the latter glittered like beads. “that’s him that shot jerry,” said haw-haw. “him!” “hell!” snarled mac strann, and went through the door. at the first sound of his heavy footfall, the head of barry raised and turned in a light, swift move- ment. the next instant he was on his feet. a mo- ment before his face had been as gentle as that of a mother leaning over a sick child; but one glimpse of the threat in the contorted brows of mac strann set a gleam in his own eyes, an answer as distinct as the click of metal against metal. not a word had been said, but jerry, who had lain with his eyes closed, seemed to sense a change in the atmosphere of peace which had enwrapped him the moment before. his eyes flashed open; and he saw his burly brother. the wild geese but mac strann had no eye for any saving dan barry. “are you the creepin’, sneakin’ snake that done —-this ?” “you got me figured right,” answered dan coldly. “then, by god—” began the roaring voice of mac, but jerry strann stirred wildly on the bed. “mac!” he called, “mac!” his voice went sud~ denly horribly thick, a bubbling, liquid sound. “for god’s sake, mac!” he had reared himself up on one elbow, his arm stretched out to his brother. and a foam of crim- son stood on his lips. “mac, don’t pull no gun! it was me that was in wrong!” and then he fell back in the bed, and into the. arms of mac, who was beside him, moaning: “buck up, jerry. talk to me, boy i” “mac, you’ve finished the job,” came the husky whisper. mac strann raised his head, and his terrible eyes fixed upon dan barry. and there was no pity in the face of the other. the first threat had wiped every vestige of human tenderness out of his eyes, and now, with something like a sneer on his lips, and with a glimmer of yellow light in his eyes, he was backing towards the door, and noiselessly as a shadow he slipped out and was gone. chapter xii finesse “a man talks because he’s drunk or lonesome; a girl talks because that’s her way of takin' exer- cise.” this was a maxim of buck daniels, and buck daniels knew a great deal about women, as many a school marm and many a rancher’s daughter of the mountain-desert could testify. also buck daniels said of women: “it aint what you say to ’em so much as the tune you put it to.” now he sat this day in o’brien’s hotel dining- room. it was the lazy and idle hour between three and four in the afternoon, and since the men of the mountain-desert eat promptly at six, twelve, and six, there was not a soul in the room when he entered. nor was there a hint of eating utensils on the tables. nevertheless buck daniels was not dismayed. he selected a corner-table by instinct and smote upon the surface with the flat of his hand. it made a re- port like the spat of a forty-five; heavy footsteps approached, a door flung open, and a cross-eyed slattern stood in the opening. at the sight of buck daniels sitting with his hands on his hips and his sombrero pushed back to a good-natured distance on his head the lady puffed with rage. i ! the wild geese “what in hell d’you think this is?” bellowed this gentle creature, and the tone echoed heavily back from all four walls. “you’re three hours late and you get no chuck here. on your way, stranger!” buck daniels elevated himself slowly from the chair and stood at his full height. with a motion fully as deliberate he removed his sombrero and bowed to such a depth that the brim of the hat brushed the floor. “lady,” he said humbly, “i was thinkin’ that some gent run this here eatin’ place. which if you’ll excuse me half a minute i’ll ramble outside and sluice off some of the dust. if i’d known you was here i wouldn’t of thought of comin’ in here like this.” the lady with the defective eyes glared fiercely at him. her judgment wavered two ways. her first inclination was to hold that the fellow was ib- ing at her covertly, and she followed her original impulse far enough to clasp a neighboring sugar- bowl in a large, capable hand. a second and more merciful thought entered her brain and stole slowly through it, like a faint echo in a great cave. “you don’t have to make yourself pretty to talk to me,” she said thoughtfully. “but if you’re here for chow you’re too late.” “ma’am,’ said buck daniels instantly, “when i come in here i was hungry‘enough to eat nails ; but i’ll forget about chuck if you’ll sit down an’ chin with me a while.” finesse the large hand of the cross-eyed lady stole out once more and rested upon the sugar-bowl. “d’you mind sayin’ that over agin p” she queried. “lonesomeness is worse’n hunger,” said buck daniels, and he met her gaze steadily with his black eyes. the hand released the sugar-bowl once more; something resembling colour stole into the brown checks of the maiden. she said, relentingly: “maybe you hem off by yourse’f mining, stranger ?” buck daniels drew a long breath. “mines?” he said, and then laughed bitterly. “if that was all i been doin’——” he began darkly— and then stopped. the waitress started. “maybe this here is my last chance to get chuck for days an’ days. well, let it go. if i stayed here with you i’d be talkin’ too much!” he turned slowly towards the door. his step was very slow indeed. “wait a minute,” called the maiden. “there ain't any call for that play. if you’re in wrong some- where——well, stranger, just take that chair and i’ll have some ham-and in front of you inside of a minute.” she had slammed through the door before buck turned, and he sat down, smiling pleasantly to him- self. half of a mirror decorated the wall beside his table, and into this buck peered. his black locks were sadly disarrayed, and he combed them into the wild geese some semblance of order with his fingers. he had hardly finished this task when the door was kicked open with such force that it whacked against the wall, and the waitress appeared with an armful of steaming food. before buck’s widening eyes she swiftly set forth an array of bread, butter in chunks, crisp french-fried potatoes, a large slab of ham on one plate and several fried eggs on another, and above all there was a mighty pewter cup of coffee blacker than the heart of night. yearning seized upon buck daniels, but policy was stronger than hunger in his subtle mind. he rose again; he drew forth the chair opposite his own. ' “ma’am,” said buck daniels, “aint you going to favor me by sittin’ down ?” the lady blinked her unfocused eyes. “ain’t i what ?” she was finally able to ask. “i know,” said buck daniels swiftly, “that you’re terrible busy; which you ain’t got time to waste on a stranger like me.” she turned upon buck those uncertain and wist- ful eyes. it was a generous face. mouth, cheek- bones, and jaw were of vast proportions, while the forehead, eyes, and nose were as remarkably diminu- tive. her glance lowered to the floor; she shrugged her wide shoulders and began to wipe the vestiges of dishwater from her freckled hands. “you men are terrible foolish,” she said. “there aint no tellin’ what you mean by what you say.” and she sank slowly into the chair. it gave voice in sharp protest at her weight. buck daniels re- finesse treated to the opposite side of the table and took his place. “ma’am,” he began, “ don’t i look honest?” so saying, he slid half a dozen eggs and a section of bacon from the platter to his plate. “i dunno,” said the maiden, with one eye upon him and the other plunging into the future. “there aint no trusting men. take ’em by the lot and they’re awful forgetful.” ‘ “if you knowed me better," said buck sadly, dis- posing of a slab of bread spread thick with the pale butter and following this with a pile of fried pota- toes astutely balanced on his knife. “if you knowed me better, ma’am, you wouldn’t have no suspicions.” “what might it be that you been doin’?” asked the girl. buck daniels paused in his attack on the food and stared at her. he quoted deftly from a magazine which had once fallen in his way: “some day maybe i can tell you. there’s something about your eyes that tells me you’d understand.” at the mention of her eyes the waitress blinked and stiffened in her chair, while a huge, red fist balled itself in readiness for action. but the ex- pression of buck daniels was as blandly open as the smile of infancy. the lady relaxed and an un- mistakable blush tinged even her nose with colour. “it ain’t after my nature to be askin’ questions,” she announced. “you don’t have to tell me no more’n you want to.” the wild geese “thanks,” said buck instantly. “i knew you was that kind. it ain’t hard,” he went on smoothly, “to tell a lady when you see one. i can tell you this much to start with. i’m lookin’ for a quiet town where i can settle down permanent. and as far as i can see, brownsville looks sort of quiet to me.” so saying, he disposed of the rest of his food by an act akin to legerdemain, and then fastened a keen eye upon the lady. she was in the midst of a struggle of some sort. but she could not keep the truth from her tongue. “take it by and large,” she said at length, “brownsville is as peaceable as most; but just now, stranger, it’s all set for a big bust.” she turned heavily in her chair and glanced about the room. then she faced daniels once more and cupped her hands about her mouth. “stranger,” she said in a stage whisper, “mac strann is in town l” the eyes of buck daniels wandered. “don't you know him p” she asked. “nope.” “never heard of him p” “nope.” “well,” sighed the waitress, “you’ve had some luck in your life. take a cross between a bulldog and a mustang and a mountain-lion——that’s mac strann. he’s in town, and he’s here for killin’.” “you don’t say, ma’am. and why don’t they lock him up p” “because he aint done nothin’ yet to be locked up about. that’s the way with him. and when finesse he does a thing he always makes the man he’s after pull his gun first. smart? i’ll say he’s just like an indian, that mac strann!” “but who’s he after?” “the feller that plugged his brother, jerry.” “kind of looks like he had reason for a killing, then.” “nope. jerry had it comin’ to him. he was always raising trouble, jerry was. and this time, he pulled his gun first. everybody seen him.” “he run into a gunman?” “gunman?” she laughed heartily. “partner, if it wasn’t for something funny about his eyes, i wouldn’t be no more afraid of that gunman than i am of a tabby-cat. and me a weak woman. the quietest lookin’ sort that ever come to brownsville. but there’s something queer about him. he knows that mac strann is here in town. he knows that mac strann is waiting for jerry to die. he knows that when jerry dies mac will be out for a killin’. and this here stranger is just sittin’ around and waitin’ to be killed! can you beat that ?” but buck daniels had grown strangely excited. “what did you say there was about his eyes?” he asked sharply. she grew suddenly suspicious. “d’ you know him?” “no. but you was talkin’ about his eyes?” “i dunno what it is. i aint the only one that’s seen it. there aint no word you can put to it. it’s just there. that’s all.” the wild geese the voice of buck daniels fell to a whisper. “it’s sort of fire,” he suggested. “ain’t it a kind of light behind his eyes p” but the waitress stared at him in amazement. “fire p” she gasped. “a light behind his eyes? m’frien’, are you tryin’ to string me?” “what’s his name p” “i dunno.” “ma’am,” said daniels, rising hastily. “here’s a dollar if you’ll take me to him.” “you don’t need no guide,” she replied. “listen to that, will you?” and as he hearkened obediently buck daniels heard a strain of whistling, needle-sharp with dis- tance. “that’s him,” nodded the woman. “he’s always goin’ about whistling to himself. kind of a nut, he is.” “it’s him!” cried buck daniels. “it’s him!” and with this ungrammatical burst of joy he bolted from the room. chapter xiii the three the whistling came from behind the hotel, and although it ended as soon as he reached the veranda of the building, buck daniels hurried to the rear of the place. there were the long, low sheds of the barn, and behind these, he knew, must be the cor- rals. he raced around the corner of the shed and there came to a halt, for he saw a thing that turned his blood to ice. one of those rare rains of the mountain-desert had recently fallen and the corrals behind the barn were carpeted with a short, thick grass. in the small corral nearest him he beheld, rolling on that carpet of grass, a great wolf—or a dog as large and as rough-coated as a wolf, and a man; and they were engaged in a desperate and silent struggle for mastery. their movements were so lightning fast that buck daniels could not make out distinct forms from the tangle. but he saw the great white teeth of the wolf flash in the sun one instant, and the next the man had whirled on top. it was dan and bart at play. no outcry from dan; no growl from the wolf. buck felt the old chill which never left him when i io the wild geese he saw the fierce game of the wolf and the wolf— man. all this passed in the twinkling of an eye, and then dan, by a prodigious effort, had thrown the great beast away from him, so that bart fell upon its back. dan leaped with outstretched arms upon the fallen animal, and buried his clutching hands in the throat of the beast. yet still there was a thrill to add to these, for now a black horse appeared in the picture, a miracle of slender, shimmering grace—and he rushed with flattened ears upon the two twisting, writhing, pros- trate figures. his teeth were bared—he was more like a prodigious dog than a horse. and those teeth closed on the back of the man’s neck—or did they merely pinch his shirt?-—and then dan was dragged bodily away from the wolf and thrown through the air by a flirt of the stallion’s head. horrible! buck daniels shuddered and then he grinned shamefacedly in apology to himself. “the three of ’em l” he grunted, and stepped closer to the fence to watch. the instant the man was torn away by the inter- cession of the horse, the wolf regained its feet and rushed upon him; but dan had landed from his fall upon his feet, with cat-like agility, and now he dodged the rush of the wolf and the arrowy spring of the creature, and sprang in his turn towards the stallion. the black met this attack by rearing, his ears flattened, his teeth bared, his eyes terrible to be- hold. as the man raced close the stallion struck i the wild geese horse and man were suddenly moveless. then dan slipped from his seat and stood before his mount. at once the ears of the stallion, which had been flat back, pricked sharply forward; the eyes of the ani- mal grew luminous and soft as the eyes of a woman, and he dropped the black velvet of his muzzle be- neath the master’s chin. as for dan barry, he re- warded this outburst of affection with no touch of his hand; but his lips moved, and he seemed to be whispering a secret to his horse. the wolf in the meantime had viewed this scene with growing un- rest, and now it trotted up and placed itself at the side of the man. receiving no attention in this position, it caught the arm of the man between its great fangs and drew his hands down. the stallion, angered by this interruption, raised a delicate fore- foot to strike, and was received with a terrific snarl —the first sound of the entire scene. “bart,” said the man, and his voice was not raised or harsh, but came as softly as running water, “if you aint going to be a gentleman, i got to teach you manners. get up on satan’s back and lie down till i tell you to get off.” the wolf received this command with a snarl even more blood-curdling than before, but he obeyed, slinking sidewise a reluctant pace or two, and then springing to the back of the stallion with a single bound. there he crouched, still snarling softly un— til his master raised a significant forefinger. at that he lowered his head and maintained a fiercely observant silence. the three i “dan!” called buck daniels. the other whirled. “speakin’ of pets,” observed buck daniels, “i heard tell once about a gent that had a tame lion. which you got the outbeatingest pair i ever see, dan. gentle, ain’t they, like a stampede of cows!” but barry left this remark unanswered. he ran to the tall fence, placed his hand on the top rail, and vaulted lightly over it. then he clasped the hand of the larger man, and his face lighted. “buck,” he said, “i been sort of lonesome. it feels pretty good to see you agin.” “oh man,” answered buck daniels, “speakin’ of bein’ lonesome—” he checked himself. “how about steppin’ inside and havin’ a talk p” the other started forward agreeably, but stopped almost at once. “heel!” he called, without turning his head. black bart left the back of the stallion in a long bound that carried him half way to the fence. his next leap brought him over the rail and beside his master. buck daniels moved back a step involun- tarily. “bart,” he said, “d’you know me p” he stretched out his hand; and was received with a sudden baring of the fangs. “nice dog!” said buck sarcastically. “regular house-pet, ain’t he p” the other apparently missed the entire point of this remark. he said in his gentle, serious way: “he used to be real wild, buck. but now he don’t . the wild geese mind people. he let the cook feed him a chunk ’ meat the other day; and you remember he don’t usually touch stuff that other men have handled.” “yep,” grunted buck, “it’s sure disgustin’ to have a dog as tame as that. i’d bet he ain’t killed an- other dog for a whole day, maybe!” and still barry saw no irony in this. he answered, as gravely as before: “no, it was the day before yesterday. somebody come to town and got drunk. he had two dogs, and sicked ’em on bart." buck daniels controlled an incipient shudder. “both dead?” “i was inside the house,” said dan sadly, “and it took me a couple of seconds to get outside. of course by that time bart had cut their throats.” “of course. didn’t the drunk guy try to pot bart ?" “yes, he got out his gun; but, mr. o’brien, the bar-tender, persuaded him out of it. i was glad there wasn’t no trouble.” “my god l” exclaimed buck daniels. and then: “well, let’s go inside. we’ll take your man-eater along, if you want to.” a shadow came in the eyes of barry. “can’t we talk jest as well out here?” “what’s the matter with findin’ some chairs?” “because i don’t like to get inside walls. you know how four walls seem like so many pairs of eyes standin’ around you f” the three i , “no,” said buck bluntly, “i don’t know nothin’ of the kind. what d’you mean ?" “i dunno,” answered barry, depressed. “it jest seems that way. ain’t you noticed how sort of close it is in a house? hard to breath? like you had on a shirt too small for you.” “we’ll stay out here, then.” the other nodded, smiled, and made a gesture to the dog behind him. black bart crouched on the ground, and dan barry sat down cross-legged, his shoulders leaning against the shaggy pelt of bart. daniels followed the example with less grace. he was thinking very hard and fast, and he rolled a durham cigarette to fill the interlude. “i s’pose you’re bustin’ to find out the news about the folks,” he said dryly, at last. the other sat with his hands loosely clasped in his lap. his wide eyes looked far away, and there was about his lips that looseness, that lack of com- pression, which one sees so often in children. he might have sat, in that posture, for the statue of thoughtlessness. “what folks?" he asked at last. buck daniels had lighted a match, but now he sat staring blank until the match burned down to his fingers. with an oath he tossed the remnant away and lighted another. he had drawn down several long breaths of smoke to the bottom of his lungs before he could speak again. “some people you used to know; i suppose you’ve forgotten all about ’em, eh?" his eyes narrowed; i the wild geese there was a spark of something akin to dread in them. “kate cumberland p” he queried. a light came in the face of dan barry. “kate cumberland?” he repeated. “how is she, buck? lately, i been thinkin’ about her every day.” a trembling took the body and the voice of dan- iels; his errand, after all, might meet some success. “kate p” he repeated. “oh, ay, she’s well enough. but joe cumberland ain’t.” “n o p” “he’s dyin’, dan.” and dan replied calmly. “he’s kind of old, i s’pose.” “old?” said buck, with a sort of horror. “yes, he’s old, right enough. d’you know why he’s dy— ing? it’s because you went away the way you done, dan. that’s what’s killin’ him.” something of thought came in the face of barry. “maybe i understand,” he said slowly. “if i was to lose satan, or bart ” here the great dog whined at the mention of his name, and barry dropped a slender hand across the scarred forehead of his servant. “if i was to lose ’em, i’d sort of mourn for ’em, maybe.” buck daniels set his teeth. “i don’t suppose it seems possible,” he said, “that a man could miss another man the way you could miss your—dog, eh? but it is! joe cumberland is dying for you, dan, as sure as if you’d put a bullet in his bowels.” the three the other hesitated and then frowned and made a gesture of vague dismissal. “don’t you figure on doin’ nothing about it?” asked buck softly. “what could i do ?” “my god a’mighty, aint you got no human feel- in’s ?” “i dunno what you mean,” said the soft voice. “this! can’t you git on your hoss and ride back with me to cumberland ranch? stay with the old man till he gets back on his feet. ain’t that easy to do? is your time so damned valuable you can’t spare a few days for that?” ' “but i am goin’ back,” answered dan, in a rather hurt voice. “they ain’t no need for cussin’ me, buck. i been thinkin’ of kate, every day, almost.” “since when ?” “i dunno.” dan stirred uneasily. he looked up, and far above buck, following the direction of dan’s eyes, saw a pattern of wild geese. “i been sort of driftin’ north towards the cumberland ranch and kate,” went on dan. he sighed: “i been thinkin’ of her eyes, which is blue, buck, and her hair, and the soft sound of her voice. they been hangin’ in my ears, stayin’ behind my eyes, lately, and i been driftin’ up that way steady.” “why, man,” cried buck, “then what’s there to keep you here? jump on your hoss, and we’ll head north in ten minutes.” “i will !” said dan, full as eagerly. “vve’ll start full speed.” i i the wild geese “come on, then.” “wait a minute!” said dan, his voice growing suddenly cold. “i been forgettin’ something.” buck daniels turned and found his companion strangely changed. there was a set expression of coldness about his face, and a chill glitter in his eyes. “i got to wait here for something.” “what’s that p” “they’s a man in town that may want to see me.” “mac strann! i’ve heard about him. dan, are you goin’ to let joe cumberland die because you want to stay here and fight it out with a dirty cut- throat p” “i don’t want to fight,” protested barry. “no, there ain’t nothin’ i like less than fightin’ !” buck daniels cursed softly and continuously to himself. “dan,” he said, “can you sit there and lie like that to me? ain’t i seen you in action? don’t i remember the way you trailed jim silent? don’t i remember how we all got down and prayed you to keep away from jim? don’t i remember how you threw everything to hell so’s you could get your hands on jim? my god a’mighty, man, didn’t i see your face when you had your fingers in silent’s throat p” an expression of unutterable revulsion rippled over the face of dan barry. “stop!” he commanded softly, and raised his slen- der hand. “don’t keep on talkin’ about it. it makes me sick—all through. oh, buck, they’s a the th ree i tingle in the tips of my fingers still from the time i had ’em in his throat. and it makes me feel un- clean—the sort of uncleanness that won’t wash out with no kind of soap and water. buck, i’d most rather die myself than fight a man!” a vast amazement overspread the countenance of buck daniels as he listened to this outburst; it was as if he had heard a healthy man proclaim that he had no desire for bread and meat. something rose to his lips, but he swallowed it. “then it looks kind of simple to me,” he said. “you hate fightin’. this gent mac strann likes it; he lives on it; he don’t do nothing but wait from day to day hungerin’ for a scrap. what’s the out? jest this! you hop on your hoss and ride out with me. young jerry strann kicks out—mac strann starts lookin’ for you——-he hears that you’ve beat it —he goes oh? and forgets about you. ain’t that simple p” the old uneasiness returned to the far-seeing eyes of dan barry. “i dunno,” he said, maybe—” then he paused again. “have you got anything to say agin it?” urged buck, arguing desperately. “i dunno,” repeated barry, confused, “except thaf i keep thinking what a terrible disappointment it’ll be to this mac strann when his brother dies and i ain’t around.” buck daniels stared, blinked, and then burst into unmelodious laughter. satan trotted across the cor- the wild geese ral and raised his head above the fence, whinny- ing softly. barry turned his head and smiled up to the horse. then he said: “seems like if jerry strann dies i owe somebody something. who? mac strann, i reckon. i sort of got to stay and give him his chance.” “i hope to god,” burst out daniels, smashing his hands together, “that mac strann beats you to a pulp! that’s what i hope!” the eyes of dan barry widened. “why d’you hope that p” he asked gently. it brought daniels again to speechlessness. “is it possible p” he growled to himself. “are you a human bein’ and yet you think more of your hoss and your damned wolf-dog than you do of the life of a man? dan, i’m askin’ you straight, is that a square thing to do p” the fragile hands went out to him, palm up. “don’t you see, buck? i don’t want to be this way. i jest can’t help it!” “then the lord help poor old joe cumberland—— him that took you in out of the desert—him that raised you from the time you was a kid—him that nursed you like you was his own baby—him that loved you more’n he loved kate—him that’s lyin’ back there now with fire in his eyes, waitin’, wait- in’, waitin’, for you to come back. dan, if you was to see him you’d go down on your knees and ask him to forgive you!” chapter xiv music for old nick a thought is like a spur. it lifts the head of a man as the spur makes the horse toss his; and it quickens the pace with a subtle addition of strength. such a thought came to buck daniels as he stepped again on the veranda of the hotel. it could not have been an altogether pleasant inspiration, for it drained the colour from his face and made him clench his broad hands; and next he loosened his revolver in its holster. a thought of fighting—of some despe- rate chance he had once taken, perhaps. but also it was a thought which needed consider- able thought. he slumped into a wicker chair at one end of the porch and sat with his chin resting on his chest while he smoked cigarette after cigarette and tossed the butts idly over the rail. more than once he pressed his hand against his lips as though there were sudden pains there. the colour did not come back to his face; it continued as bloodless as ever, but there was a ponderable light in his eyes, and his jaws became more and more firmly set. it was not a pleasant face to watch at that moment, for he seemed to sit with a growing resolve. long moments passed before he moved a muscle, but then he heard, far away, thin, and clear, music for old nick whistling from behind the hotel. it was no recog- nisable tune. it was rather a strange improvisation, with singable fragments here and there, and then wild, free runs and trills. it was as if some bird of exquisite singing powers should be taken in a rap- ture of song, so that it whistled snatches here and there of its usual melody, but all between were great, whole-throated rhapsodies. as the sound of this whistling came to him, buck raised his head sud- denly. and finally, still listening, he rose to his feet and turned into the dining-room. there he found the waitress he had met before, and he asked her for the name of the doctor who took care of the wounded jerry strann. “there ain’t no doc,” said the waitress. “it’s fatty matthews, the deputy marshal, who takes care of that strann—bad luck to him! fatty’s in the barroom now. but what’s the matter? you seem like you was hearin’ something?” “i am,” replied daniels enigmatically. “i’m hear- in’ something that would be music for the ears of old nick.” and he turned on his heel and strode for the bar- room. there hc found fatty in the very act of dis- posing of a stiff three-fingers of red-eye. daniels stepped to the bar, poured his own drink, and then stood toying with the glass. for though the effect. of red-eye may be pleasant enough, it has an essence which appalls the stoutest heart and singes the most leathery throat; it is to full-grown men what castor oil is to a child. why men drink it is a mystery the wild geese whose secret is known only to the profound soul of the mountain-desert. but while daniels fingered his glass he kept an eye upon the other man at the bar. it was unquestionably the one he sought. the excess flesh of the deputy marshal would have brought his nickname to the mind of an imbecile. however, fatty was humming softly to himself, and it is not the habit of men who treat very sick patients to sing. “i’ll hit it agin,” said fatty. “i need it." “have a bad time of it to-day?” asked o’brien sympathetically. “bad time to-day? yep, an’ every day is the same.‘ i tell you, o’brien, it takes a pile of nerve to stand around that room expectin’ ierry to pass out any minute, and the eyes of that devil mac strann followin’ you every step you make. d’you know, if jerry dies i figure mac to go at my throat like a bull-dog.” “you’re wrong, fatty,” replied o’brien. “that ain’t his way about it. he takes his time killin’ a man. waits till he can get him in a public place and make him start the picture. that’s mac strann! remember fitzpatrick? mac strann followed fitz nigh onto two months, but fitz knew what was up and he never would make a move. he knowed that if he made a wrong pass it would be his last. so he took everything and let it pass by. but finally it got on his nerves. one time—it was right here in my barroom, fatt ” music for old nick “the hell you say !” “yep, that was before your time around these parts. but fitz had a couple of jolts of red-eye under his vest and felt pretty strong. mac strann happened in and first thing you know they was at it. well, fitz was a big man. i ain’t small, but i had to look up when i talked to fitz. scotch-irish, and they got fightin’ bred into their bone. mac strann passed him a look and fitz come back with a word. soon as he got started he couldn’t stop. wasn’t a pretty thing to watch, either. you could see in f itz’s face that he knew he was done for before he started, but he wouldn’t. let up. the booze had him going and he was too proud to back down. pretty soon he started cussing mac strann. “well, by that time everybody had cleared out of the saloon, because they knowed that them sort of words meant bullets comin’. but mac strann jest stood there watchin’, and grinnin’ in his ugly way— damn his soul black !—-and never sayin’ a word back. by god, fatty, he looked sort of hungry., when he grinned, his upper lip went up kind of slow and you could see his big teeth. i expected to see him make a move to sink ’em in the throat of fitz. but he didn’t. nope, he didn’t make a move, and all the time fitz ravin’ and gettin’ worse and worse. finally fitz made the move. yep, he pulled his gun and had it damned near clean on mac strann before that devil would stir. but when he did, it was jest a flash of light. both them guns went off, but mac’s bullet hit fitz’s hand and knocked the gun out of it music for old nick his eyes rolled up to the ceiling, and mac strann threw him down on the floor. just like that! damn him! and then he stood over poor dead fitz and kicked him in those busted ribs and turned over to the bar and says to me: ‘gimme!’ “like a damned beast! he wanted to drink right there with his dead man beside him. and what was worse, i had to give him the bottle. there was a sort of haze in front of my eyes. i wanted to pump that devil full of lead, but i knowed it was plain suicide to try it. “so there he stood and ups with a glass that was brimmin’ full, and downs it at a swallow—gurglin’ —like a hog! fatty, how long will it be before there’s an end to mac strann p” but fatty matthews shrugged his thick shoulders and poured himself another drink. “there ain’t a hope for jerry strann?” cut in buck daniels. “not one in a million,” coughed fatty, disposing of another formidable potion. “and when jerry dies, mac starts for this barry p” “who’s been tellin’ you p” queried o’brien dryly. “maybe you been readin’ minds, stranger p” buck daniels regarded the bartender with a mild and steadfast interest. he was smiling with the utmost good-humour, but there was that about him which made big o’brien flush and look down to his array of glasses behind the bar. “i been wondering,” went on daniels, “if mac the wild geese strann mightn’t come out with barry about the way jerry did. ain’t it possible?” '- “n o,” replied fatty matthews with calm decision. “it ain’t possible. well, i’m due back in my bear cage. y’ought to look in on me, o’brien, and see the mountain-lion dyin’ and the grizzly lookin’ on.” “will it last long?” queried o’brien. “somewhere’s about this evening.” here daniels started violently and closed his hand hard around his whiskey glass which he had not yet raised towards his lips. “are you sure of that, marshal ?” he asked. “if jerry’s held on this long ain’t there a chance that he’ll hold on longer? can you date him up for to- night as sure as that?” “i can,” said the deputy marshal. “it ain’t hard when you seen as many go west as i’ve seen. it ain’t harder than it is to tell when the sand will be out of an hour glass. when they begin going down the last hill it ain’t hard to tell when they’ll reach the bottom.” “ain’t you had anybody to spell you, fatty ?” broke in o’brien. “yep. i got haw-haw langley up there. but he ain’t much help. just sits around with his hands folded. kind of looks like haw-haw wanted jerry to pass out.” and matthews went humming through the swing- ing door. chapter xv old gary peters for some moments after this buck daniels re- mained at the bar with his hand clenched around his glass and his eyes fixed before him in the peculiar second-sighted manner which had marked him when he sat so long on the veranda. “funny thing,” began o’brien, to make conversa- tion, “how many fellers go west at sunset. seems like they let go all holts as soon as the dark comes. hey?” “how long before sunset now ?” asked buck daniels sharply. “maybe a couple of hours.” “a couple of hours,” repeated daniels, and ground his knuckles across his forehead. “a couple of hours!” he raised his glass with a jerky motion and downed the contents; the chaser stood disregarded before him and o’brien regarded his patron with an eye of admiration. “you long for these parts?” he asked. “no, i’m strange to this range. riding up north pretty soon, if i can get someone to tell me the lay of the land. d’you know it?” the wild geese “never been further north than brownsville.” “couldn’t name me someone that’s travelled about, i s’pose p” “old gary peters knows every rock within three day’s riding. he keeps the blacksmith shop across the way.” “so? thanks; i’ll look him up.” buck daniels found the blacksmith seated on a box before his place of business; it was a slack time for gary peters and he consoled himself for idle- ness by chewing the stem of an unlighted corn-cob, whose bowl was upside down. his head was pulled down and forward as if by the weight of his pro- digious sandy moustache, and he regarded a vague’ horizon with misty eyes. “seen you comin’ out of o’brien’s,” said the blacksmith, as buck took possession of a nearby box. “what’s the news p” “ain’t any news,” responded buck dejectedly. "too much talk; no news.” “that’s right,” nodded gary peters. “o’brien is the out-talkingest man i ever see. ain’t nobody on brownsville can get his tongue around so many words as o’brien.” so saying, he blew through his pipe, picked up a stick of soft pine, and began to whittle it to a point. “in my part of the country,” went on buck dan- iels, “they don’t lay much by a man that talks a pile.” here the blacksmith turned his head slowly, re- garded his companion for an instant, and then re- sumed his whittling. old gary peters “but,” said daniels, with a sigh, “if i could find a man that knowed the country north of brownsville and had a hobble on his tongue i could give him a night’s work that’d be worth while.” gary peters removed his pipe from his mouth and blew out his dropping moustaches. he turned one wistful glance upon his idle forge; he turned a sadder eye upon his companion. “i could name you a silent man or two in browns- ville,” he said, “but there ain’t only one man that knows the country right.” “that so? and who might he be?” “me.” “you?” echoed daniels in surprise. he turned and considered gary as if for the first time. “may- be you know the lay of the land up as far as haw- kin’s arroyo?” “me? son, i know every cactus clear to bald eagle.” “h-m-m!” muttered daniels. “i s’pose maybe you could name some of the outfits from here on a line with bald eagle—say you put ’em ten miles apart?” “n othin’ easier. i could find ’em blindfold. first due out they’s mccauley’s. then lay a bit west of north and you hit the circle k bar—that’s about twelve mile from mccauley’s. hit ’er up dead north again, by east, and you come eight miles to\ three roads. go on to——” the wild geese “partner,” cut in daniels, “i could do business with you.” “maybe you could.” “my name’s daniels.” “i’m gary peters. h’ware you p” they shook hands. “peters,” said buck daniels, “you look square, and i need you in square game; but there ain’t any questions that go with it. twenty iron men for one day’s riding and one day’s silence.” “m’frien’,” murmured peters. “in my day i’ve gone three months without speakin’ to anything in boots; and i wasn’t hired for it, neither.” “you know them people up the line,” said daniels. “do they know you?” “i’ll tell a man they do! know gary peters?” “partner, this is what i want. i want you to leave brownsville inside of ten minutes and start riding for elkhead. i want you to ride, and i want you to ride like hell. every ten miles, or so, i want you to stop at some place where you can get a fresh hoss. get your fresh hoss and leave the one you’ve got off, and tell them to have the hoss you leave ready for me any time to-night. it’ll take you clear till to-morrow night to reach elkhead, even with relayin’ your hosses ?” “round about that, if i ride like hell. what do i take with me p” “nothing. nothing but the coin i give you to hire someone at every stop to have that hoss you’ve left ready for me. better still, if you can have ’em, old gary peters get a fresh hoss. would they trust you with hosses that way, gary p” “gimme the coin and where they won’t trust me i’ll pay cash.” “i can do it. it’ll about bust me, but i can do it.” “you going to try for a record between browns- ville and elkhead, ehp got a bet up, eh p” “the biggest bet you ever heard of,” said daniels grimly. “you can tell the boys along the road that i’m tryin’ for time. have you got a fast hoss to start with p” “got a red mare that ain’t much for runnin’ cat- tle, but she’s greased lightnin’ for a short bust.” “then get her out. saddle her up, and be on your way. here’s my stake—i’ll keep back one twenty for accidents. first gimme a list of the places you’ll stop for the relays.” . he produced an old envelope and a stub of soft pencil with which he jotted down gary peters’ di- rections. “and every second,” said buck daniels in part- ing, “that you can cut off your own time will be a second cut off’n mine. because i’m liable to be on your heels when you ride into elkhead.” gary peters lifted his eyebrows and then restored his pipe. he spoke through his teeth. “you ain’t got a piece of money to bet on that, partner p” he queried softly. “ten extra if you get to elkhead before me.” “they’s limits to hoss-flesh,” remarked peters. “what time you ridin’ against p” r . the wild geese “against a cross between a bullet and a nor’- caster, gary. i’m going back to drink to your luck.” a promise which buck daniels fulfilled, for he had need of even borrowed strength. he drank steadily until a rattle of hoofs down the street en- tered the saloon, and then someone came in to say that gary peters had started out of town to “beat all hell, on his red mare.” after that, buck started out to find dan barry. his quarry was not in the barn nor in the corral behind the barn. there stood satan and black bart, but their owner was not in sight. but a thought came to buck while he looked, rather mournfully, at the stallion’s promise of limitless speed. “if i can hold him up jest half a minute,” murmured buck to himself, “jest half a minute till i get a start, i’ve got a rabbit’s chance of livin’ out the night!” from the door of the first shed he took a heavy chain with the key in the padlock. this chain he looped about the post and the main timber of the gate, snapped the padlock, and threw the key into the distance. then he stepped back and surveyed his work with satisfaction. it would be a pretty job to file through that chain, or to knock down those ponderous rails of the fence and make a gap. a smile of satisfaction came on the face of buck daniels, then, hitching at his belt, and pulling his sombrero lower over his eyes, he started once more to find dan barry. he was more in haste now, for the sun was dip- chapter xvi the coming or night it was not yet full dusk, for the shadows were still swinging out from the mountains and a ghost of colour lingered in the west, but midnight lay in the open eyes of jerry strann. there had been no i struggle, no outcry, no lifting of head or hand. one instant his eyes were closed, and then, indeed, he looked like death; the next instant the eyes open, he smiled, the wind stirred in his bright hair. he had never seemed so happily alive as in the moment of his death. fatty matthews held the mirror close to the faintly parted lips, examined it, and then drew slowly back towards the door, his eyes steady upon mac strann. “mac,” he said, “it’s come. i got just this to say: whatever you do, for god’s sake stay inside the law!” and he slipped through the door and was gone. but mac strann did not raise his head or cast a glance after the marshal. he sat turning the limp hand of jerry back and forth in his own, and his eyes wandered vaguely through the window and down to the roofs of the village. night thickened perceptibly every moment, yet the coming of night still while the eastern slope of every roof was jet black, the western slopes were bright, and here and there at the distance the light turned and waned on upper windows. sleep was coming over the world, and eternal sleep had come for jerry strann. it did not seem possible. some night at sea, when clouds hurtled before the wind across the sky and when the waves leaped up mast-high; when some good ship staggered with the storm, when hundreds were shrieking and yelling in fear or defiance of death; there would have been a death-scene for jerry strann. or in the battle, when hundreds rush to the at— tack with one man in front like the edge before the knife—there would have been a death-scene for jerry strann. or while he rode singing, a bolt of lightning that slew and obliterated at once—such would have been a death for jerry strann. it was not possible that he could die like this, with a smile. there was something incompleted. the fury of the death-struggle which had been omitted must take place, and the full rage of wrath and destruction must be vented. can a bomb ex- plode and make no sound and do no injury? yet jerry strann was dead and all the world lived on. someone cantered his horse down the street and called gayly to an acquaintance, and after- wards the dust rose, invisible, and blew through the open window and stung the nostrils of mac strann. 'a child cried, faintly, in the distance, and then was the wild geese hushed by the voice of the mother, making a sound like a cackling hen. this was all! there should have been wailing and weeping and cursing and praying, for handsome jerry strann was dead. or there might have been utter and dreadful silence and waiting for the stroke of ven- geance, for the brightest eye was misted and the strongest hand was unnerved and the voice that had made them tremble was gone. but there was neither silence nor weeping. some- one in a nearby kitchen rattled her pans and then cursed a dog away from her back-door. not that any of' the sounds were loud. the sounds of living are rarely loud, but they run in an endless river—a monotone broken by ugly ripples of noise to testify that men still sleep or waken, hunger or feed. an- other ripple had gone down to the sea of darkness, yet all the ripples behind it chased on their way heedlessly and babbled neither louder nor softer. there should have been some giant voice to peal over the sleeping village and warn them of the com- ing vengeance—for jerry strann was dead! the tall, gaunt figure of haw-haw langley came on tip-toe from behind, beheld the dead face, and grinned; a nervous convulsion sent a long ripple through his body, and his adam’s-apple rose and fell. next he stole sideways, inch by inch, so grad- ual was his cautious progress, until he could catch a glimpse of mac strann’s face. it was like the open face of a child; there was in it no expression except wonder. the wild geese the matter? are you mad at me? ain’t you going to speak to me? are you forgettin’ me, jerry?” he caught the dead face between his hands and turned it strongly towards his own. then for a moment his eyes plumbed the shadows into which they looked. he stumbled back to his feet and said apologetically to haw-haw at the door: “i kind of forgot he wasn’t livin’, for a minute.” he stared fixedly at the gaunt cowpuncher. “speakin’ man to man, haw-haw, d’you think jerry will forget me p” the terror was still white upon the face of haw- haw, but something stronger than fear kept him in the room and even drew him a slow step towards mac strann; and his eyes moved from the face of the dead man to the face of the living and seemed to draw sustenance from both. he moistened his lips and was able to speak. “forget you, mac? not if you get the man that fixed him.” “would you want me to get him, jerry?” asked mac strann. and he waited for an answer. “i dunno,” he muttered, after a moment. “jerry was always for fightin’, but he wasn’t never for killin’. he never liked the way i done things. and when he was lyin’ here, haw-haw, he never said nothin’ about me gettin’ barry. did he p” astonishment froze the lips of haw-haw. he managed to stammer: “ain’t you going to get barry? ain’t you goin’ to bust him up, mac p” “i dunno,” repeated the big man heavily. “seems like i’ve got no heart for killing. seems like they’s the wild geese “eh p” queried mac strann, turning. but as he turned, haw-haw langley glided towards him, and behind him, as if he found it easier to talk when the face of mac was turned away. and while he talked his hands reached out towards mac strann like one who is begging for alms. “mac, don’t you remember that barry beat jerry to the draw p” “what’s‘that to do with it p” “but he beat him bad to the draw. i seen it. barry waited for jerry. understand p” “what of that p” “mac, you’re blind! jerry knowed you’d be throwing yourself away if you went up agin barry.” at this mac strann whirled with a suddenness surprising for one of his bulk. haw-haw langley flattened his gaunt frame against the wall. “mac!” he pleaded, “i didn’t say you’d be throw- in’ yourself away. it was jerry’s idea.” “did jerry tell you that p” he asked. “so help me god!” “did jerry want me to get barry p” “why wouldn’t he p” persisted the vulture, twist- ing his bony hands together in an agony of alarm and suspense. “ain’t it nacheral, mac?” mac strann wavered where he stood. “somehow,” he argued to himself, “it don’t seem like killin’ is right, here.” the long hand of langley touched his shoulder. he whispered rapidly: “you remember last the coming of night . night when you was out of the room for a minute? jerry turned his head to me—jest the way he’s lyin’ now—and i says: ‘jerry, is there anything i can do for you?’ ” mac strann reached up and his big fingers closed over those of haw-haw. “haw-haw,” he muttered, “you was his frien’. i know that.” haw-haw gathered assurance. he said: “jerry answers to me: ‘haw-haw, old pal, there ain’t nothin’ you can do for me. i’m goin’ west. but after i’m gone, keep mac away from barry.’ “i says: ‘why, jerry?” “ ‘because barry’ll kill him, sure,’ says jerry. “ ‘i’ll do what i can to keep him away from barry,’ says i, ‘but don’t you want nothin’ done to the man what killed you?’ “ ‘oh, haw-haw,’ says jerry, ‘i ain’t goin’ to rest easy, i ain’t goin’ to sleep in heaven—until i know barry’s been sent to hell. but for god’s sake don’t let mac know what i want, or he’d be sure to go after barry and get what i got.’ ” mac strann crushed the hand of haw-haw in a terrible grip. “partner,” he said, “d’you swear this is straight?” “so help me god!” repeated the perjurer. “then,” said mac strann, “i got to leave the buryin’ to other men what i’ll hire. me—i’ve got business on hand. where did barry run to?” “he ain’t run,” cried haw-haw, choking with a . the wild geese strange emotion. “the fool—the damned fool !—is waiting right down here in o’brien’s bar for you to come. he’s darin’ you to come !” mac strann made no answer. he cast a single glance at the peaceful face of jerry, and then started for the door. haw-haw waited until the door closed; then he wound his arms about his body, writhed in an ecstasy of silent laughter, and fol- lowed with long, shambling strides. chapter xvii buck makes his get-away straight from the room of the dead man, fatty matthews had hurried down to the bar, and there he stepped into the silence and found the battery of eyes all turned upon that calm figure at the end of the room. upon this man he trotted, breathing hard, and his fat sides jostled up and down as he ran. according to brownsville, there were only two things that could make fatty run: a gun or the sight of a drink. but all maxims err. when he reached barry he struck him on the shoulder with a heavy hand. that is, he struck at the shoulder, but as if the shadow of the falling hand carried a warn- ing before it, at the same time that it dropped barry swerved around in his chair. not a hurried move- ment, but in some mysterious manner his shoulder was not in the way of the plump fist. it struck, instead, upon the back of the chair, and the marshal cursed bitterly. “stranger,” he said hotly, “i got one thing to say: jerry strann has just died upstairs. in ten seconds mac strann will be down here lookin’ for you!” he stepped back, humming desperately to cover his wheezing, but barry continued to braid the horsehair with deft fingers. i . the wild geese “i got a double knot that’s kind of new,” be said. “want to watch me tie it?” the deputy sheriff turned on the crowd. “boys,” he exclaimed, waving his arms, “he’s crazy. you heard what he said. you know i’ve give him fair warning. if we got to dig his grave in brownsville, is it my fault? it ain’t!” he stepped to the bar and pounded upon it. “o’brien, for god’s sake, a drink!” it was a welcome suggestion to the entire nervous crowd, but while the glasses spun across the bar buck daniels walked slowly down the length of the barroom towards barry. his face was a study which few men could have solved; unless there had been someone present who had seen a man walk to his execution. beside dan barry he stopped and watched the agile hands at work. there was a change in the position of barry now, for he had taken the chair facing the door and the entire crowd; buck daniels stood opposite. the horse- hair plied back and forth. and daniels noted the hands, lean, tapering like the fingers of a girl of sixteen. they were perfectly steady; they were the hands of one who had struggled, in life, with no greater foe than ennui. “dan,” said buck, and there was a quiver of ex- citement in his voice, like the tremor of a piano string long after it has been struck. “dan, i been thinking about something and now i’m ready to tell you what it is.” barry looked up in slow surprise. buck makes his get-away now the face of buck daniels held what men have called a “deadly pallour,” that pallor which comes over one who is cornered and about to fight for his'life. he leaned closer, resting one hand upon the edge of the table, so that his face was close to dan barry. “barry,” he said, “i’m askin’ you for the last time: will you get your hoss and ride back to kate cumberland with me p” dan barry smiled his gentle, apologetic smile. “i don’t no ways see how i can, buck.” “then,” said buck through his teeth, “of all the lyin’ hounds in the world you’re the lyin’est and meanest and lowest. which they ain’t words to tell you what i think of you. take this instead l" and the hand which rested on the table darted up and smote dan barry on the cheek, a tingling blow. \vith the same motion which started his hand for the blow, buck daniels turned on his heel and stepped a pace or two towards the centre of the room. there was not a man in the room who had not heard the last words of buck daniels, and not a man who had not seen the blow. everyone of them had seen, or heard accurately described, how the islender stranger beat jerry strann to the draw and shot him . down in that same place. such a‘ moan came from them as when many men catch their breath with pain, and with a simultaneous movement those who were in line with buck daniels and barry leaped back against the bar on one side and against the the wild geese wall on the other. their eyes, fascinated, held on the face of barry, and they saw the pale outline which the fingers of daniels had left on the cheek of the other. _but if horror was the first thing they felt, amazement was the next. for dan barry sat bolt erect in his chair, staring in an astonishment too great for words. his right hand hung poised and moveless just above the butt of his gun; his whole posture was that of one in the midst of an action, suspended there, frozen to stone. they waited for that poised hand to drop, for the slender fingers to clutch the butt of the gun, for the convulsive jerk that would bring out the gleaming barrel, the explo- sion, the spurt of smoke, and buck daniels lurching forward to his face on the floor. but that hand did not move; and buck daniels? standing there with his back to the suspended death behind him, he drew out durham and brown papers, without haste, rolled a cigarette, and reached to a hip pocket. at that move dan barry started. his hand darted down and fastened on his gun, and he leaned forward in his chair with the yellow glimmering light flaring up in his eyes. but the hand of buck daniels came out from his hip bearing a match. he raised his leg, scratched the match, there was a blue spurt of flame, and buck calmly lighted his cigarette and started towards the door, sauntering the instant the swinging doors closed barry started from his chair with a strange cry—none of them had ever heard the like from human lips—for buck makes ih is get-away i there was grief in it, and above all there was a dead- ly eagerness. so a hungry man might cry out at the sight of food. down the length of the barroom he darted and was drawing his gun as he whipped through the doors. a common rush followed him, and those who reached the open first saw buck daniels leaning far forward in his saddle and spur- ring desperately into the gloom of the night. in- stantly he was only a twinkling figure in the shadows, and the beat of the hoofs rattled back at them. dan barry stood with his gun.poised high for a second or more. then he turned, dropped the gun into the holster, and with the same strange, un- earthly cry of eagerness, he raced off in the direction of the barns. there were some who followed him even then, and this is what they reported to incredulous ears when they returned. barry ran straight for the left hand corral and wrenched at the gate, which ap- peared to be secured by a lock and chain. seeing that it would not give way he ran around to the barn, and came out again carrying a saddle and bridle. these he tossed over the high fence into the corral. then he picked up a loose scantling and with it pried and wrenched off the top bar of the fence in one section and vaulted into the enclosure. the black stallion had whinnied once or twice during this time and the great black, shaggy dog had come snarling and whining about the feet of his master. now the stranger tossed on the saddle and cinched it with amazing speed, sprang onto his the wild geese mount, and urged it across to the other side of the corral. up to that moment no one in the little crowd of watchers had suspected the intention of the rider. for the fence, even after the removal of the top bar, was nearly six feet in height. but when !barry took his horse to the far side of the corral and then swung him about facing the derailed sec- tion, it was plain that he meant to attempt to jump at that place. even then, as o’brien explained later, and many a time, the thing was so impossible that he could not believe his eyes. there was a dreamlike element to the whole event. and like a phantom in a vision he saw the black horse start into a sharp gallop; saw the great dog sail across the fence first; saw the horse and rider shoot into the air against the stars; heard the click of hoofs against the top rail; heard the thud of hoofs on the- near side of the fence, and then the horseman flashed about the corner of the barn and in an in- stant his hoofs were beating a far distant tattoo. as for the watchers, they returned in a dead silence to the barroom and they had hardly entered when mac strann stalked through the doors behind them; he went straight to o’brien. “somewhere about,” he said in his thick, deep voice, “they’s a man named dan barry. where is he p” - and o’brien answered: “mac, he was sittin’ down there at that table until two minutes ago, but where he is now i ain’t any idea.” the tall, skeleton form of haw-haw langley buck makes his get-away materialised behind mac strann, and his face was contorted with anger. “if he was here two minutes ago,” he said, “he ain’t more than two minutes away.” “which way?” asked mac strann. “north,” answered a score of voices. o’brien stepped up to mac strann. he said: “mac, we know what you got in your mind. we know what you’ve lost, and there ain’t any of us that ain’t sorry for jerry—and for you. but, mac, i can give you the best advice you ever heard in your life: keep off’n the trail of barry!” haw-haw langley added at the ear of mac strann: “that was jerry’s advice when he lay dyin’. an’ it’s my advice, too. mac, barry ain’t a safe man to foller!” “haw-haw,” answered mac strann. “will you gimme a hand saddlin’ my hoss? i got an appoint- ment, an’ i’m two minutes late already.” chapter xviii doctor byrne analyses in the room which had been assigned to his use doctor randall byrne sat down to an unfinished‘let- ter and began to write. “dinner has interrupted me, my dear lough- bume. i have dined opposite miss cumberland-— only the two of us at a great table—with a wide silence around us—and the chinese cook padding to and fro from the kitchen. have i told you of that room? no, i believe that i have made no more than casual mention of my environment here, for reasons which are patent. but to-night i wished that you might look in upon the scene. along the walls hang a rope with which mr. cumberland won a roping and tieing contest in his youth—a feat upon which he prides himself highly; at another place hang the six-shooters of a notorious desperado, taken from his dead body; there is the sombrero of a mexican guerilla chief beside the picture of a prize bull, and an oil painting of mr. cumberland at middle age adjoins an immense calendar on which is portrayed the head of a girl in bright colours— a creature with amazing quantities of straw-coloured hair. the table itself is of such size that it is said doctor byrne analyses all the guests at a round-up—a festival of note in these barbaric regions—can be easily seated around it. on one side of this table i sat—and on the other side sat the girl, as far away as if an entire room had separated us. “before going down to the meal i had laid aside my glasses, for i have observed that spectacles, though often beneficial to the sight, are not always equally commendable in the opinion of women; and it should assuredly be one’s endeavour to become agreeable to those about us. “be it noted at this point, my dear loughbume, that i have observed peculiar properties in the eyes of miss cumberland. those of all other humans and animals that have fallen under my observance were remarkable only for their use in seeing, whereas the eyes of miss cumberland seem pecu- liarly designed to be seen. this quality i attribute to the following properties of the said eyes. first, they are in size well beyond the ordinary. secondly, they are of a colour restful to behold. it is, indeed, the colour of the deep, blue evening sky into which one may stare for an incalculable distance. “as i have said, then, i noted a glow in these eyes, though they were so immediately lowered that i could not be sure. i felt, however, an extraordi- nary warmth beneath my collar, the suffusion of blood passing swiftly towards my forehead. i in- quired if she had smiled and for what reason; whereat she immediately assured me that she had not, and smiled while making the assurance. . the wild geese “i was now possessed of an unusual agitation, augmented by the manner in which miss cumber— land looked at me out of twinkling but not unkindly eyes. what could have caused this perturbation i leave to your scientific keenness in analysis. “i discovered an amazing desire to sing, which indecorous impulse i, of course, immediately in- hibited and transferred the energy into conversa- tion. “ ‘the weather,’ said i. ‘has been uncommonly delightful to-day.’ “i observed that miss cumberland greeted this sentence with another smile. “presently she remarked: ‘it has seemed a bit windy to me.’ “i recalled that it is polite to agree with ladies and instantly subjoined with the greatest presence of mind: ‘quite right! a most abominany stormy day!’ “at this i was astonished to be greeted by an- other burst of laughter, even more pronounced than the others. “ ‘doctor byrne,’ she said, ‘you are absolutely unique.’ “ ‘it is a point,’ i said earnestly, ‘which i shall immediately set about to change.’ “at this she raised both hands in a gesture of protest, so that i could observe her eyes shining behind the slender, brown fingers—observe, lough- bume, that white skin is falsely considered a thing the wild geese and twisted her fingers together in pain. she added at once: ‘what of poor dad ?’ “ ‘your father,’ i confessed, ‘had for the moment slipped my mind.’ “it seemed to me, however, that it was not wholly on her father’s account that she was grieved. she wished mr. barry to return, and yet she dreaded his coming. it was most mysterious. however, i had started miss cumberland thinking. she stopped eating and began to stare before her. presently she said: ‘it is strange that we don’t hear from buck. what can have held him so long?’ “i regretted extremely that i had introduced the topic and cast about in my mind for another, but could not find one. i then expressed regret that i had revived her worries, but received in reply a smile in which there was no life: the very colour had died out from her cheeks. and she sat during the rest of the meal without speaking a word. “afterwards i went in with her to see mr. cum- berland. his condition was not materially changed. the marvel of it grows upon me more and more. it is a freak which defies medical science. there lies a man at the point of dissolution. his body has died of old age, and yet the life principle remains. he does not eat—at least, the nourishment he takes is wholely negligible. but he still has energy. to be sure, he rarely moves about and his body remains practically inert. but we must never forget that the mind is a muscle and calls for continual rebuilding. doctor byrne analyses, and the mind of mr. cumberland is never inactive. it works ceaselessly. it will not permit him to sleep. for three days, now, as far as i can tell, he has not closed his eyes. it might be assumed that he is in a state of trance, but by a series of careful experi- ments, i have ascertained that he is constantly think- ing in the most vigourous fashion. “what does it mean? there is in the man a flame-like quality; something is burning in him every instant. but on what does the flame feed? i know that material cannot be created and that energy means dissolution of matter: but why does not the life of joseph cumberland dissolve? “the subject possesses me. i dare not ponder it too steadily or my brain begins to whirl. i make no progress towards any reasonable solution. i only feel that i am living in the presence of an astound- ing mystery. “strange thoughts possess me. what is the fire that burns but does not consume joe cumberland? what is the thing in the wandering dan barry which kate cumberland fears and yet waits for? why was it that daniels trembled with dread when he started out to find a man who, by his own pro- fession, he holds to be his best friend? “you see how the mystery assumes shape? it is before me. it is in my hand. and yet i cannot grasp its elements. “the story of a man, a horse, and a dog. what; is the story? doctor byrne analyses i be kate cumberland; and they both will seem to be listening, listening—for what? “no more to-night. but, loughburne, you should' be here; i feel that the like of this has never been upon the earth. “byrne.” chapter xix suspense he found them as he had expected, the girl he- side the couch, and the old man prone upon it, wrapped to the chin in a gaudy navajo blanket. but to-night his eyes were closed, a most unusual thing, and byrne could look more closely at the aged face. for on occasions when the eyes were wide, it was like looking into the throat of a search- light to stare at the features—all was blurred. he discovered now wrinkled and purple-stained lids under the deep shadow of the brows—and eyes were so sunken that there seemed to be no pupils there. over the cheek bones the skin was drawn so tightly that it shone, and the cheeks fell away into cadaver- ous hollows. but the lips, beneath the shag of grey beard, were tightly compressed. no, this was not sleep. it carried, as byrne gazed, a connotation of swifter, fiercer thinking, than if the gaunt old man had stalked the floor and poured forth a tirade of words. the girl came to meet the doctor. she said: “will you use a narcotic p” “why?” asked byrne. “he seems more quiet than usual.” : suspense “look more closely,” she whispered. and when he obeyed, he saw that the whole body of joe cumberland quivered like an aspen, contin- ually. so the finger of the duellist trembles on the trigger of his gun before he receives the signal to fire—a suspense more terrible than the actual face of death. “a narcotic?” she pleaded. “something to give him just one moment of full relaxation?” “i can’t do it,” said byrne. “if his heart were a shade stronger, i should. but as it is, the only thing that sustains him is the force of his will-power. do you want me to unnerve the very strength which keeps him alive?” she shuddered. “do you mean that if he sleeps it will be——death ?” “i have told you before,” said the doctor, “that there are phases of this case which i do not under- stand. i predict nothing with certainty. but i very much fear that if your father falls into a complete slumber he will never waken from it. once let his brain cease functioning and i fear that the heart.’ will follow suit.” they stood on the farther side of the room and spoke in the softest of whispers, but now the deep, calm voice of the old man broke in: “doc, they ain’t no use of worryin’. they ain’t no use of medi- cine. all i need is quiet.” “do you want to be alone?” asked the girl. “no, not so long as you don’t make no noise. i ' the wild geese can ’most hear something, but your whisperin’ shuts it off.” they obeyed him, with a glance at each other. and soon they caught the far off beat of a horse in a rapid gallop. “is it that p” cried kate, leaning forward and touching her father’s hand. “is that horse what you hear p” “no, no !” he answered impatiently. “that ain’t what i hear. it ain’t no hoss that i hear!” the hoof-beats grew louder—stopped before the house—steps sounded loud and rattling on the veranda—a door squeaked and slammed—and buck daniels stood before them. his hat was jammed down so far that his eyes were almost buried in the shadow of the brim; the bandana at his throat was twisted so that the knot lay over his right shoulder; he carried a heavy quirt in a hand that trembled so that the long lash seemed alive; a thousand bits of foam had dried upon his vest and stained it; the rowels of his spurs were caked and enmeshed with horse-hair; dust covered his face and sweat fur- rowed it, and a keen scent of horse-sweat passed from him through the room. for a moment he stood at the door, bracing himself with legs spread wide apart, and stared wildly about—then he reeled drunkenly across the room and fell into a chair, sprawling at full length. no one else moved. joe cumberland had turned his head; kate stood with her hand at her throat; suspense the doctor had placed his hand behind his head, and there it stayed. “gimme smoke—quick!” said buck daniels. “run out of durham a thousan’ years ago!” kate ran into the next room and returned in- stantly with papers and a fresh sack of tobacco. on these materials buck seized frantically, but his big fingers were shaking in a palsy, and the papers tore, one after another, as soon as he started to roll his smoke. “god l” he cried, in a burst of childish des- peration, and collapsed again in the chair. but kate cumberland picked.up the papers and tobaccowhich he had dashed to the floor and rolled a cigarette with deft fingers. she placed it between his lips and held the match by which he lighted it. once, twice, and again, he drew great breaths of smoke into his lungs, and then he could open his eyes and look at them. they were not easy eyes to meet. “you’re hungry, buck,” she said. “i can see it at a glance. i’ll have something for you in an instant.” he stopped her with a gesture. “i done it!” said buck daniels. “he’s comin’!” the doctor flashed his glance upon kate cumber- land, for when she heard the words she turned pale and her eyes and her lips framed a mute question; but joe cumberland drew in a long breath and smiled. “i knowed it!” he said softly. the wind whistled somewhere in the house and it . the wild geese brought buck daniels leaping to his feet and into the centre of the room. “he’s here!” he yelled. “god help me, where’ll i go now! he’s here!” he had drawn his revolver and stood staring des- perately about him as if he sought for a refuge in the solid wall. almost instantly he recovered him- self, however, and dropped the gun back into the holster. “no, not yet,” he said, more to himself than the others. “it ain’t possible, even for dan.” kate cumberland. rallied herself, though her face was still white. she stepped to buck and took both his hands. “you’ve been working yourself to death,” she said gently. “buck, you’re hysterical. what have you to fear from dan? isn’t he your friend? hasn’t he proved it a thousand times p” her words threw him into a fresh frenzy. “if he gets me, it’s blood on your head, kate. it was for you i done it.” “no, no, buck. for dan’s sake alone. isn’t that enough?” “for his sake?” buck threw back his head and laughed—a crazy laughter. “he could rot in hell for all of me. he could foller his wild geese around the world. kate, it was for you!” “hush!” she pleaded. “buck, dear!” “do i care who knows it? not i! i got an hour —half an hour to live; and while i live the whole damned world can know i love you, kate, from suspense your spurs to the blue of your eyes. for your sake. i brung him, and for your sake i’ll fight him, damn him, in spite ” the wind wailed again, far off, and buck daniels cowered back against the wall. he had drawn kate with him, and he now kept her before him, towards the door. he began to whisper, swiftly, with a horrible tremble in his voice: “stand between me, kate. stand between me and him. talk for me, kate. will you talk for me p” he drew himself up and. caught a long, shuddering breath. “what have i been doin’? what have i been ravin’ about p” he looked about as if he saw the others for the first time. “sit here, buck,” said kate, with perfect quiet. “give me your hat. there’s nothing to fear. now tell us.” “a whole day and a whole night,” he said, “i been riding with the fear of him behind me. kate, i ain’t myself, and if i been sayin’ things ” “no matter. only tell me how you made him follow you.” buck daniels swept his knuckles across his fore- head, as though to rub out a horrible memory. “kate,” he said in a voice which was hardly more than a whisper, “why did he follow jim silent p” the doctor slipped into a chair opposite buck daniels and watched him with unbelieving eyes. when he had last seen buck the man had seemed an army in himself; but now a shivering. unmanned the wild geese i coward sat before him. byrne glanced at kate cumberland for explanation of the mysterious change. she, also, was transformed with horror, and she stared at buck daniels as at one already among the dead. “buck, you didn’t—strike him?” buck daniels nodded jerkily. “i’ll try to tell you straight from the beginning. i found dan in brownsville. i begged him to come back with me, but he wouldn’t stir. this was why: a gunman had come to the town lookin’ for trouble, and when he run acrost dan he found plenty of it. no, don’t look like that, kate; it was self-defense, pure and simple—they didn’t even arrest dan for it. but this dyin’ man’s brother, mac strann, come down from the hills and sat beside jerry strann waitin’ for him to go west before he started out to clean up on dan. yesterday evenin’ jerry was near dead and everybody in brownsville was waitin’ to see what would happen, because dan wouldn’t budge till mac strann had had his chance to get back at him. so i sent a feller ahead to fix a relay of bosses to elkhead, because i made up my mind i was going to make dan barry chase me out of that town. i walked into the saloon where dan was sittin’—braidin’ a little horse-hair strand—my god, kate, think of him sittin’ there doin’ that with a hundred fellers standin’ about waitin’ for him to kill or be killed! i went up to him. i picked a fight, and then i slapped him—in the face.” suspense the sweat started on daniels’ forehead at the thought. “but you’re still alive” cried kate cumberland. “had you handled his gun first p” “no. as soon as i hit him i turned my back to him and took a couple of steps away from him.” “oh, buck, buck!” she cried, her face lighting. “you knew he wouldn’t shoot you in the back!” “i didn’t know nothin’. i couldn’t even think—- and my body was numb as a dead man’s all below the hips. there i stood like i was chained to the floor—you know how it is in a nightmare when something chases you and you can’t run? that was the way with me.” “buck! and he was sitting behind you—while you stood there p” “ay, sitting there with my death sittin’ on his trigger finger. but i knowed that if i showed the white feather, if i let him see me shake, he’d be out of his chair and on top of me. no gun—he don’t need nothin’ but his hands—and what was in front of my eyes was a death like—like jim silent’s !” he squinted his eyes close and groaned. once more he roused himself. “but i couldn’t move a foot without my knees bucklin’, so i takes out my makin’s and rolls a cigarette. and while i was doin’ it i was prayin’ that my strength would come back to me before he come back to himself—and started!” “it was surprise that held him, buck. to think of you striking him—you who have saved his life the wild geese and fought for him like a blood-brother. oh, buck, of all the men in the world you’re the bravest and the noblest!” “they ain’t nothin’ in that brand of talk,” growled buck, reddening. “anyway, at last i started for the door. it wasn’t farther away than from here to the wall. outside was my hoss, and a chance for livin’. but that door was a thousand years away, and a thousand times while i walked towards it i felt dan’s gun click and bang behind me and felt the lead go tearin’ through me. and i didn’t dare to hurry, because i knew that might wake dan up. so finally i got to the doors and just as they was swingin’ to behind me, i heard a sort of a moan behind me ” “from dan!” whispered the white-faced girl. “i know—a sort of a stifled cry when he’s angered! oh, buck.” “my first step took me ten yards from that door,” reminisced buck daniels, “and my next step landed me in the saddle, and i dug them spurs clean into the insides of long bess. she started like a watch- spring uncoilin’, and as she spurts down the streets i leans clean over to her mane and looks back and there i seen dan standin’ in the door with his gun in his hand and the wind blowin’ his hair. but he didn’t shoot, because the next second i was swal- lowed up in the dark and couldn’t see him no more.” “but it was no use l” cried the girl. “with black bart to trail you and with satan to carry him, he overtook you—and then ” suspense “he didn’t,” said buck daniels. “i’d fixed things so’s he couldn’t get started with satan for some time. and before he could have satan on my trail . i’d jut a long stretch behind me because long bess was racin’ every step. the lay of the land was with me. it was pretty level, and on level goin’ long bess is almost as fast as satan; but on rocky goin’ satan is like a goat—nothin’ stops him! and i was ridin’ long bess like to bust her heart, straight towards mccauley’s. we wasn’t more’n a mile away when i thought—the wind was behind me, you see—that i heard a sort of far off whistling down the wind! my god!” he could not go on for a moment, and kate cum- berland sat with parted lips, twisting her fingers together and then tearingithem apart once more. “well, that mile was the worst in my life. i thought maybe the man i’d sent on ahead hadn’t been able to leave me a relay at mccauley’s, and if he hadn’t i knew i’d die somewhere in the hills beyond. and they looked as black as dead men, and all sort of grinnin’ down at me. “but when i got to mccauley’s, there stood a hoss right in front of the house. it didn’t take me two second to make the saddle-change. and then i was off agin!” a sigh of relief came from byrne and kate. “that hoss was a beauty. not long-legged like bess, nor half so fast, but he was jest right for the hills. climbed like a goat and didn’t let up. up and up we goes. the wind blows the clouds away the wild geese when we gets to the top of the climb and i looks down into the valley all white in the moonlight. and across the valley i seen two little shadows slid- in’, smooth and steady. it was dan and satan and black bart !” “buck!” “my heart, it stood plumb still! i gives my hoss the spurs and we went down the next slope. and i don’t remember nothin’ except that we got to the circle k bar after a million years, ’most, and when we got there the piebald flops on the ground—near dead. but i made the change and started off agin, and that next hoss was even better than the piebald —a sure goer! when he started i could tell by his gait what he was, and i looked up at the sky—” he stopped, embarrassed. “and thanked god, buck p” “kate, i ain’t ashamed if maybe i did. but since then i ain’t seen or heard dan, but all the time i rode i was expecting to hear his whistle behind me,‘ close up.” all the life died from her face. “no, buck, if he’d a followed all the way he would have caught you in spite of your relay. no, i understand what happened. after a while he re- membered that mac strann was waiting for him back in brownsville. and he left your trail to be taken up later and went back to brownsville. you didn’t see him follow you after you left the circle x bar p” suspense “no. i didn’t dare look back. but somehow i knew he was comin’.” she shook her head. “he won’t come, buck. 'he’ll go back to meet mac strann—and then ” she ran to the chair of buck swiftly and caught his hands: “what sort of a man is mac strann ?” but buck smiled strangely up into her face. “does it make any difference,” he said, “to dan?” she went slowly back to her place. “no,” she admitted, “no difference.” “if you came by relays for twenty-four hours,” said the doctor, numbering his points upon accurate finger-tips, “it is humanly impossible that this man could have followed you very closely. it will prob- ably take him another day to arrive.” but here his glance fell upon old joe cumberland, and found the cattleman smiling faintly to himself. buck daniels was considering the last remark seriously. “no,” he said, “it ain’t possible. besides, what kate says may be true. she ought to know—she says he’ll wait for mac strann. i didn’t think of that; i thought i was savin’ dan from another— well, what a damn fool i been!” he unknotted his bandana and with it mopped his face to a semblance of cleanliness. “it was the ridin’ that done it,” he explained, shame-faced. “you put a man on a hoss for a cer- tain time, and after a while he gets so he can’t think. suspense i too much. they’ve been stranger things than that, in this world l” he hitched his belt so that the butt of his revolver came farther forward. but now kate cumberland advised: “buck, you’re tired out; you don’t know what you’re saying. better go up to bed.” he flushed a ruddy bronze. “d’you think i’m jest talkin’ words, kate, to hear myself talk?” “listen!” broke in joe cumberland, and raised a bony forefinger for silence. and the doctor noted a great change in the old man. there was no longer a tremor in his body. there was only a calm and smiling expectation—a certainty. a tinge of colour was in his withered face for the first time since byrne had come to the ranch, and now the cattleman raised his finger with such an air of calm authority that at once every voice in the room was stilled. “d’ye hear?” they did not. they heard only the faint rushing of the air through the window. the flame danced in the chimney of the lamp and changed the faces in phantastic alteration. one and all, they turned and faced the window. still there was not a sound audible, but the doctor felt as if the noise were approaching. he knew it as surely as if he could see some far-off object moving near and nearer. and he knew, as clearly, that the others in the room felt the same thing. he turned his glance from . the wild geese the window towards kate cumberland. her face was upturned. there was about it a transparent pallor; the eyes were large and darkly ringed; the lips parted into the saddest and the most patient of smiles; and the slender fingers were interwoven and pressed against the base of her throat. for the first time he saw how the fire that was so manifest in the old man had been consuming her, also. it left no mark of the coming of death upon her. but it had burned her pure and left her transparent as crystal. pity swelled in the throat of byrne as he realised the anguish of her long waiting. fear mingled with his pity. he felt that something was coming which would seize on her as the wind seizes on the dead leaf, whirling her off into an infinity of storm and darkness into which he could not follow a single pace. he turned back towards the window. the rush of air played steadily, and then in pulses, upon his face. then even the wind ceased; as if it, too, were waiting. not a sound. but silence has a greater voice than discord or music. it seemed to byrne that he could tell how fast each heart was beating. the old man had closed his eyes again. and yet the rigid forefinger remained raised, and the faint smile touched at the corners of his mouth. buck daniels sat lunging forward in his chair, his knees supporting his elbows, and scowled up at the win- dow with a sort of sullen terror. then byrne heard it—so small a voice that at first he thought it was only a part of the silence. chapter xx the coming then a padding step, light, lighter than the sound of the softest thought. it was passing near; the faint breeze blew the sound to them, around them, behind them. each man felt as if some crea- ture were stalking him, unseen. next—it appeared by magic against the blue black of the night—the head of a great wolf, quite black, shaggy, with sharply pointed ears. and the eyes stared at them, green eyes with lights that swirled as the flame jumped in the throat of the lamp, for a long mo- ment the horror lasted. then the head, as it had come, disappeared, and the light, light footfall,faded away. buck daniels had risen, now. the sound of his whisper made them start. “i’m going up—to my room—and lock the door —for god’s sake—keep—him away!” and so he stole soundlessly away, and then they heard the creaks which announced his progress up the stairs. not buck daniels alone. in the deadly silence kate rose to her feet; and the old man, the invalid —he with the dead body and the living brain, rose the coming ] from his couch and stood as erect as a. soldier on parade. the doctor was conscious of repeating to himself, hurriedly, a formula something like this: “the thing which is coming is human; it cannot be more than human; as long as it is human it is nothing to fear; the laws of truth are irrevocably fixed; the laws of science will not change.” yet in spite of this formula he was deadly cold, as if a wind were blowing through his naked soul. it was not fear. it was something beyond fear, and he would not have been otherwhere for any reward. all his mind remained poised, expectant, as the as- tronomer waits for the new star which his calcula- tions have predicted to enter the field of his tele- scope. he caught the sound of another horse coming, far different even to his unpracticed ear from the beat of hoofs which announced the coming of buck daniels. the rhythm of their fall was slower, as if the stride of the animal were much longer. he pictured a mighty creature with a vast mane blown- back against the chest of a giant rider. there was a murmur from kate: “dan, my dear, my dear!” then he heard a padding footfall, hardly louder than the light, light step of the wolf. the knob of the door turned slowly, without a sound; it opened, and a man stepped in. he was not larger than the doctor; a slender fellow, almost dapper in his dress, with hardly a sign of travel about him, except that the brim of his sombrero was folded back from his face as if from continual pressure l the wild geese of wind. these things randall byrne noted vague- ly; what he was sharply aware of were the eyes of the man. he had the feeling that he had seen them before; he remembered the yellow light that had swirled in the eyes of the wolf at the window. the newcomer flashed a glance about the room, yet for all its speed it seemed to linger an instant on each face, and when it crossed the stare of byrne the doctor shrank. “where is buck?” asked the man. “i’ve come for him!” as if in answer, the great, shaggy dog slipped through the entrance past his master and glided across the room. as he passed, kate held out a hand to him. she called softly: “bart!” but she was greeted with a silent baring of fangs; and she caught her hand back against her breast, with the tears springing in her eyes. on the other side of the room the black dog paused and looked back to his master, while byrne realised with a shudder that the door before which it stood was the door through which buck daniels had disappeared. straight to that door barry stepped, and byrne real- ised, with an eerie emotion, that the footfalls made no sound. before he reached the door, however, the girl started forward and sprang before him. with her outstretched arms she barred the way. her skirt brushed almost in the face of the dog, and the beast shrank away not in fear, but crouching in readiness to leap. the sharp ears twitched back; a. the coming i murderous snarl rolled up from between the wicked teeth. yet she did not cast a single glance at him; she faced the greater danger. she was saying: “whatever buck did, it wasn’t done to hurt you, dan; it was done for your own sake. and for dad’s sake. you shan’t pass here!” from his position, the doctor could not see the face of dan barry, but he guessed at it through the expression of kate. such terror and horror were in her eyes as though she were facing a death’s head inches away. then he saw the slender hand of barry rise and move towards the girl, slowly, tremblingly, as though one fierce impulse urged him to thrust her to one side and as though another held back his arm. the doctor could not watch the girl longer; fear and pity were wringing him as _ he lowered his glance to the floor. then he heard her cry: “have you forgotten me, like bart? like, bart, have you forgottetn me, dan p” his hand fell to his side and he glided back from her; but now byrne could see that the eyes of barry were looking past the girl, as though he stared through the solid wood of the door and found his prey beyond it. the stranger slipped towards the door by which he had entered, with the great dog slinking at his heels. kate cumberland leaned heavily against the wall, her arm thrown across her face, but there was no consciousness of her in the face of barry. yet at the very door he paused and straightened; byrne saw that he was staring the wild geese towards joe cumberland; and the old man reached a bony hand out. “oh, lad,” he said softly, “i been waitin’ for you years an’ years, seems like!” barry crossed the room as noiselessly, as swiftly, as a flying shadow. “sit down!” he commanded, and byrne caught a faint ring in the voice, like the shiver of metal strik- ing steel. joe cumberland obeyed without a word, and then lay back at full length upon the couch—a palsy had seized on him, and the hand which rested on the shoulder of dan barry was shaking. by the couch came the tall dog, and crouched, staring up in the master’s face; then the younger man turned his face towards byrne and the girl. those thin-cut nostrils expanded, the lips compressed, and byrne dared not look into the flare of the eyes. “who done this p” asked barry, and still the shiver of cold metal rang in his voice. “who’s done this p” “steady, lad,” said joe cumberland faintly. “they aint no call for fightin’. steady, dan, boy. an’ don’t leave me!” byrne caught a signal from kate and followed her obediently from the room. “let them be alone,” she said. “impossible!” protested the doctor. “your fa- ther is lapsed into a most dangerous condition. the physical inertia which has held him for so long is now broken and i look for a dangerous mental and the coming nervous collapse to accompany it. a sedative is now imperative!” he laid his hand on the knob of the door to re- turn, but the girl blocked his way. “don’t go in,” she commanded feebly. “i can’t explain to you. all i can say is that dad was the one who found dan barry and there’s something between them that none of us understand. but i know that he can help dad. i know dad is in no danger while dan is with him.” “a pleasant superstition,” nodded the doctor, “but medicine, my dear miss cumberland, does not take account of such things.” “doctor byrne,” she said, rallying a failing strength for the argument, “i insist. don’t ask me to explain.” “in that case,” he answered coldly, “i cannot as- sume responsibility for what may happen.” she made a gesture of surrender, weakly. “look back in on them now,” she said. “if you don’t find father quiet, you may go in to him.” doctor byrne obeyed, opening the door softly. he saw _toe cumberland prone, of course, upon the couch. one hand lay as usual across his breast, but the other was at his side, clasped in the hands of dan barry. the old cattleman slept. yes, there was no doubt that for the first time in many days he slumbered soundly. the lean, narrow chest rose and fell with deep, slow breaths; the eyes were closed, and there was no twitching of muscles to betray ragged nerves or a mind that dreamed fiercely the coming “you?” she asked, surprised. “no, nothing.” “but there’s not the slightest colour in your face. and you are trembling, miss cumberland!” she did not seem to hear him. “will he stay?” she asked of herself. “will he leave before the morning?” “i shall see that he stays,” said the doctor. “i will stay here outside the door and see that he does not leave, if you wis .” once more she smiled in that baflling manner. “could you keep the wind from blowing, doctor byrne? if i thought that he could be kept ” she stopped. “he has forgotten us. he has for- gotten all of us except dad. and if dad cannot keep him, nothing will keep him. it’s useless for you to wait here. good night again, doctor byrne.” he watched her up the stairs. by the dim light he saw her hand catching at the balustrade as if she were drawing herself up, step by step. when she reached the landing and turned half towards him, he saw that her head was fallen. “not a glance, not a thought for me,” murmured the doctor. “but if the stranger does leave ” instead of finishing the muttered sentences, he drew a chair back against the wall and sat down with folded hands to wait. chapter xxi mac strann decides to keep the law it was hours later that night when haw-haw langley and mac strann sat their horses on the hill to the south. before them, on the nearest rise of ground, a clump of tall trees and the sharp tri- angle of a roof split the sky, while down towards the right spread a wide huddle of sheds and barns. “that’s where the trail ends,” said mac strann, and started his horse down the slope. haw-haw langley urged his little mount hurriedly alongside the squat bulk of his companion. he looked like the skeleton reality, and mac strann the blunt, de- formed shadow. “you ain’t going into the house lookin’ for him, mac p” he asked, and he lowered his voice to a sharp whisper in spite of the distance. “maybe there’s a pile of men in that house. it’s got room for a whole army. you ain’t going in there by yourself, mac p” “haw-haw,” explained the big man quietly, “i ain’t going after barry. i’m going to make him come after me.” haw-haw considered this explanation for a dazed moment. it was far too mysterious for his comprehension. mac strann decides to keep the law “what you goin’ to do p” he asked again. “would you know that black hoss agin if you seen him p” asked mac strann. “in a thousand.” “that hoss has had a long ride; and barry has put him in one of them barns, they ain’t no doubt. most like, the dog is with the hoss.” “it looks a considerable lot like a wolf,” mut- tered langley. “i wouldn’t choose meetin’ up with that dog in the dark. besides, what good is it goin’ to do you to find the dog?” “if you hurt a man’s dog,” explained mac strann calmly, “you’re hurting the man, ain’t you? i’m going to hurt this man’s dog; afterwards the dog’ll bring the man to me. they ain’t no doubt of that. i ain’t goin’ to kill the dog. i’m goin’ to jest nick him so’s he’ll get well and then hit my trail.” “what sense is they in that p” “if barry comes to me, aint he the one that’s breakin’ the law? if i kill him then, won’t it be in self-defense? i aint no law-breaker, haw-haw. it aint any good bein’ a law-breaker. them lawyers - can talk a man right into a grave. they’se worse nor poison. i’d rather be caught in a bear trap a hundred miles from my shack than have a lawyer fasten onto my leg right in the middle of browns- ville. no, haw-haw, i aint going to break any law. but i’m going to fix the wolf so’s he’ll know me; and when he gets well he’ll hit my trail, and when he hits my trail he’ll have barry with him. and when barry sees me, then ” he raised his {the wild geese arms above him in the dark. “then!” breathed mac strann, “jerry can start sleepin’ sound for the first time!” haw-haw langley _wrapped his long arms about himself. “an’ i’ll be there to watch. i’ll be there to see fair play, don’t you never doubt it, mac. why didn’t i never go with you before? why, jerry never done anything to touch this! but be careful, mac. don’t make no slip up to-night. if they’s trouble—i ain’t a fighting man, mac. i ain’t no ways built for it.” “shut your mouth,” said mac strann bluntly. “i need quiet now.” for they were now close to the house. mac strann brought his horse to a jog trot and cast a semi-circle skirting the house and bringing him be- hind the barns. here he retreated to a little jutting point of land from behind which the house was in- visible, and there dismounted. haw-haw langley followed example reluctantly. he complained: “i ain’t never heard before of a man leavin’ his hoss behind him! it ain’t right and it ain’t policy.” his leader, however, paid no attention to this grumbling. he skirted back behind the barns, walk- ing with a speed which extended even the long legs of haw-haw langley. most of the stock was turned out in the corrals. now and then a horse stamped, or a bull snorted from the fenced enclos- ures, but from the barns they heard not a sound. mac strann decides to keep the law now mac strann paused. they had reached the largest of the barns, a long, low structure. “this here,” said mac strann, “is where that hoss must be. they wouldn’t run a hoss like that with others. they’d keep him in a big stall by him- self. we’ll try this one, haw-haw.” but haw-haw drew back at the door. the in- terior was black as the hollow of a throat as soon as mac strann rolled back the sliding door, and haw-haw imagined evil eyes glaring and twinkling at him along the edges of the darkness. “the wolf!” he cautioned, grasping the shoulder of his companion. “you ain’t goin’ to walk onto that wolf, mac p” the latter struck down haw-haw’s hand. “a wolf makes a noise before it jumps,” he whis- pered, “and that warnin’ is all the light i need.” now their eyes grew somewhat accustomed to the dark and haw-haw could make out, vaguely, the posts of the stalls to his right. he could not tell whether or not some animal might be lying down between the posts, but mac strann, pausing at every stall, seemed to satisfy himself at a glance. right down the length of the barn they passed until they reached a wall at the farther end. “he ain’t here,” sighed haw-haw, with relief. “mac, if i was you, i’d wait till they was light before i went huntin’ that wolf.” “he ought to be here,” growled mac strann, and lighted a match. the flame spurted in a blinding flash from the head of the match and then settled the wild geese down into a steady yellow glow. by that brief glow mac strann looked up and down the wall. the match burned out against the calloused tips of his fingers. “that wall,” mused strann, “ain’t made out of the same timber as the side of the barn. that wall is whole years newer. haw-haw, that ain’t the end of the barn. they’s a holler space beyond it.” he lighted another match, and then cursed softly in de- light. “look!” he commanded. at the farther side of the wall was the glitter of metal—the latch of a door opening in the wooden wall. mac strann set it ajar and haw-haw peered in over the big man’s shoulder. he saw first a vague and formless glimmer. then he made out a black horse lying down in the centre of a box stall. the animal plunged at once to its feet, and crowding as far as possible away against the wall, 'turned its head and stared at them with flashing eyes. “it’s him!” whispered haw-haw. “it’s barry’s black. they ain’t another hoss like him on the range. an’ the wolf—thank god !—ain’t with him.” but mac strann closed the door of the stall, frowning thoughtfully, and thought on the face of strann was a convulsion of pain. he dropped the second match to his feet, where it ignited a wisp of straw that sent up a puff of light. “ah-h!” drawled mac strann. “the wolf ain’t here, but we’ll soon have him here. and the thing that brings him here will get rid of the black hoss.” mac strann decides to keep the law “are you goin’ to steal the hoss p” “steal him? he couldn’t carry me two mile, a skinny hoss like that. but if barry ever gets away agin on that hoss i aint never goin’ to catch him. that boss has got to die.” haw-haw langley caught his breath with a harsh gurgle. for men of the mountain-desert sometimes fall very low indeed, but in their lowest moments it is easier for him to kill a man than a horse. there is the story, for instance, of the cattleman who saw the bull-fight in juarez, and when the bull gored the first horse the cowpuncher rose in the crowd and sent a bullet through the picador to square the deal. so haw-haw sighed. “mac,” he whispered, “has it got to be done? ain’t there any other way? i’ve seen that hoss. when the sun hits him it sets him on fire, he’s that sleek. and his legs is like drawn-iron, they’re that fine. and he’s got a head that’s finer than a man’s head, mac.” “i’ve seen him close enough,’ answered mac strann grimly. “an’ i’ve follered him for a day and a half, damn near. s’pose barry finds out i’m on his trail; s’pose he won’t foller the wolf when the wolf tries to lead him to me. s’pose he gets on this hoss and cuts away? can i foller the wind, haw-haw? this hoss has got to die!” from the manger he threw out several armfuls of hay, wrenched down from behind the manger several light boards, and tossed them on the hay. he lighted a match and was approaching the small the wild geese flame to the pile of inflammables when haw-haw langley cried softly: “hark, mac!” the big man instantly extinguished the match. for a moment they could distinguish nothing, but then they heard the sharp, high chorus of the wild geese flying north. haw-haw langley snickered apologetically. “that was what i heard a minute ago!” he said. “and it sounded like voices comin’.” a snarl of contempt from mac strann; then he scratched another match and at once the flame licked up the side of the hay and cast a long arm up the wooden wall. “out of this quick !” commanded mac strann, and they started hastily down the barn towards the door. the fire behind them, after the puff of flame from the hay, had died away to a ghastly and ir- regular glow with the crackle of the slowly catch- ing wood. it gave small light to guide them; only enough, indeed, to deceive the eye. the posts of the stalls grew into vast, shadowy images; the ir- regularities of the floor became high places and pits alternately. but when they were half way to the door haw-haw langley saw a form too grim to be a shadow, blocking their path. it was merely a blacker shape among the shades, but haw-haw was aware of the two shining eyes, and stopped short in his tracks. “the wolf!” he whispered to mac strann. “mac, what’re we goin’ to do p” the other had not time to answer, for the shadow ‘mac strann decides to keep the law at the door of the barn now leaped towards them, silently, without grow! or yelp or snarl. as if to guide the battle, the kindling wood behind them now ignited and sent up a yellow burst of light. by it haw-haw langley saw the great beast clearly, and he leaped back behind the sheltering form of mac strann. as for mac, he did not move or flinch from the attack. his revolver was in his hand, .levelled, and following the swift course of black bart. chapter xxii patience there is one patience greater than the endurance . of the cat at the hole of the mouse or the wolf which waits for the moose to drop, and that is the patience of the thinking man; the measure of the hindoo’s moveless contemplation of nirvana is not in hours but in weeks or even in months. randall byrne sat at his sentinel post with his hands folded and his grave eyes steadily fixed before him, and for hour after hour he did not move. though the wind rose, now and again, and whistled through the upper chambers or mourned down’the empty halls, randall byrne did not stir so much as an eyelash in observance. two things held him fasci- nated. one was the girl who had passed up yonder stairs so wearily without a single backward glance at him; the other was the silent battle which went on in the adjoining room. now and then his imagi- nation wandered away to secondary pictures. he would see barry meeting buck daniels, at last, and striking him down as remorselessly as the hound strikes the hare; or he would see him riding back towards elkhead and catch a bright, sad vision of kate cumberland waving a careless adieu to him, patience i and then hear her singing carelessly as she turned away. such pictures as these, however, came up but rarely in the mind of byrne. mostly he thought of the stranger leaning over the body of old joe cumberland, reviving him, storing him with electric energy, paying back, as it were, some ancient debt. and he thought of the girl as she had turned at the landing place of the stairs, her head fallen; and he thought of her lying in her bed, with her arm under the mass of bright hair, trying to sleep, very tired, but remorsely held awake by that same power which was bringing joe cumberland back from the verge of death. it was all impossible. this thing could not be. it was really as bad as the yarn of the frankenstein monster. he considered how it would seem in print, backed by his most solemn asseverations, and then he saw the faces of the men who associated with him, pale thoughtful faces striving to conceal their smiles and their contempt. but always he came back, like the desperate hare doubling on his course, upon the picture of kate cumberland there at the turning of the stairs, and that bent, bright head. which confessed defeat. the man had forgotten her. it made byrne open his eyes in incredulity even to imagine such a thing. the man had forgot- ten her! she was no more to him than some with- ered hag he might ride past on the road. his ear, subconsciously attentive to everything around him, caught a faint sound from the next room. it was a regular noise. it had the rhythm . the wild geese of a quick footfall, but in its nature it was more like the sound of a heavily beating pulse. randall byrne sat up in his chair. a faint creaking attested that it was, indeed, a footfall traversing the room to and fro, steadily. the stranger, then, no longer leaned over the couch of the old cattleman. he was walking up and down the floor with that characteristic, softly padding step. of what did he think as he walked? it carried byrne automatically out into the darkest night, with a wind in his face, and the rhythm of a long striding horse carrying him on to a destina- tion unknown. here he heard a soft scratching, repeated, at the door. when it came again he rose and opened the door—at once the tall, shaggy dog slipped through the opening and glided past him. it startled byrne oddly to see the animal stealing away, as if barry himself had been leaving. he called to the beast, but he was met by a silent baring of white fangs that stopped him in his tracks. the great dog was gone without a sound, and byrne closed the door again without casting a look inside. he was stup- idly, foolishly afraid to look within. after that the silence had a more vital meaning. no pictures crowded his brain. he was simply keyed to a high point of expectancy, and therefore, when the door was opened silently, he sprang up as if in acknowledgment of an alarm and faced barry. the latter closed the door behind him and patience glided after the big dog. he had almost crossed the big room when byrne was able to speak. “mr. barry!” he called. the man hesitated. “mr. barry,” he repeated. and dan barry turned. it was something like the act of the wolf the moment before; a swift movement—a flash of the eyes in something like defiance. “mr. barry, are you leaving us?” “i’m going outside.” “are you coming back p” “i dunno.” a great joy swelled in the throat of doctor byrne. he felt like shouting in triumph; yet he remembered once more how the girl had 'gone up the stairs, wearily, with fallen head. he decided that he would do what he could to keep the stranger with them, and though randall byrne lived to be a hundred he would never do a finer thing than what he at— tempted then. he stepped across the room and stood before barry, blocking the way. “sir,” he said gravely, “if you go now, you will work a great sorrow in this house.” a glint of anger rose in the eyes of barry. “joe cumberland is sleepin’ soun’,” he answered. “he’ll be a pile rested when he wakes up. he don’t need me no more.” “he’s not the only one who needs you,” said byrne. “his daughter has been waiting impatiently for your coming, sir.” the wild geese the sharp glance of barry wavered away. “i’d kind of like to stay,” he murmured, “but i got to go.” a dull voice called from the next room. “it’s _ioe cumberland,” said byrne. “you see, he is not sleeping!” the brow of barry clouded, and he turned gloom- ily back. “maybe i better stay,” he agieed. yet before he made a step byrne heard a far- away honking of the wild geese, that musical dis- cord carrying for uncounted miles through the windy air. the sound worked like magic on barry. he whirled back. “i got to go,” he repeated. and yet byrne blocked the way. it required more courage to do that than to do anything he had ever attempted in his life. the sweat poured out from under his armpits as the stranger stepped near; the blood rushed from his face as he stared into the eyes of barry—eyes which now held an uncanny glimmer of yellow light. “sir,” said byrne huskily, “you must not go! listen! old cumberland is calling to you again! does that mean nothing? if you have some errand out in the night, let me go for you.” “partner,” said the soft voice of barry, “stand asidé. i got no time, i’m wanted!” every muscle of randall byrne’s body was set to repulse the stranger in any effort to pass through that door, and yet, mysteriously, against his will, he patience found himself standing to one side, and saw the other slip through the open door. “dan! are ye there p” called a louder voice from the room beyond. there was no help for it. he, himself, must go back and face joe cumberland. with a lie, no doubt. he would say that dan had stepped out for a moment and would be back again. that might put cumberland safely to sleep. in the morning, to be sure, he would find out the deception—but let every day bury its dead. here was enough trouble for one night. he went slowly, but steadily enough, towards the door of what had now become a fatal room to the doctor. in that room he had seen his dearest doctrines cremated. out of that room he had come bearing the ashes of his hopes in his hands. now he must go back once more to try to fill, with science, a gap of which science could never take cognizance. he lingered another instant with his hand on the door; then he cast it wide bravely enough and stepped in. joe cumberland was sitting up on the edge of his couch. there was colour in the old man’s face. it almost seemed, to the incredulous eyes of byrne, that the face was filled out a trifle. certainly the fire of the old cattleman’s glance was less unearthly. “where’s dan p” he called. “where’d he go p” it was no longer the deep, controlled voice of the stoic; it was the almost whining complaint of vital weakness. the wild geese “is there anything i can do for you ?” parried byrne. “anything you need or wish ?” “him!” answered the old man explosively. “damn it, i need dan! where is he? he was here. i felt him here while i was sleepin’. where is he?!” “he has stepped out for an instant,” answered byrne smoothly. “he will be back shortly.” “he—has—etepped—out ?” echoed the old man slowly. then he rose to the full of his gaunt height. his white hair, his triangle of beard and pointed moustache gave him a detached, a mediaeval signifi- cance; a portrait by van dyck had stepped from its frame. “doc, you’re lyin’ to me! where has he gone?” a sudden, almost hysterical burst of emotion swept doctor byrne. “gone to heaven or hell!” he cried with startling violence. “gone to follow the wind and the wild geese—god knows where!” like a period to his sentence, a gun barked out- side, there was a howl of demoniac pain and rage, and then a scream that would tingle in the ear of doctor randall byrne till his dying day. chapter xxiii how mac strann kept the law for when the dog sprang, mac strann fired, and the wolf was jerked up in the midst of his leap by the tearing impact of the bullet. it was easy for strann to dodge the beast, and the great black body hurtled past him and struck heavily on the floor of the barn. it missed mac strann, indeed, but it fell at the very feet of haw-haw langley, and a splash of blood flirted across his face. he was too terrified to shriek, but fell back against the wall of the barn, gasping. there he saw black bart struggle to regain his feet, vainly, for both of the animal’s fore-legs seemed paralyzed. now the yel- low light of the fire rose brightly, and by it haw- haw marked the terrible eyes and the lolling, slaver- ing tongue of the great beast, and the fangs like ivory daggers. .it could not regain its feet, but it thrust itself forward by convulsive efforts of the hind legs towards mac strann. haw-haw langley stared for a single instant in white faced fear, but when he realised that black bart was helpless as a toothless old dog, the tall cowpuncher, twisted his lean fingers with a silent joy. once more bart pushed himself towards mae strann, and then haw-haw langley stepped for- the wild geese ward, and with all the force of his long leg smashed his heavy riding boot into the face of the dog. black bart toppled back against the base of the manger, struggled vainly to regain his poise, and it was then that he pointed his nose up, and wailed like a lost soul, wailed with the fury of impotent hate. mac strann caught haw-haw by the arm and dragged him back towards the door. “i don’t want to kill the dog,” he repeated. “get ,out of here, haw-haw. barry’ll be comin’ any minute.” he could have used no sharper spur to urge on the laggard. haw-haw langley raced out of the barn a full stride before mac strann. they hurried together to the little rise of ground behind which they had left their horses, and as they ran the scream which had curdled the blood of randall byrne rang through the night. in a thousand years he could never have guessed from what that yell issued; his nearest surmise would have been a score of men screaming in unison under the torture. but mac strann and haw-haw langley knew the sound well enough. when they mounted their saddles they could look over the top of the little hill and observe every— thing easily without being seen; for the hill-top commanded a range of the corrals and a view of the fronts of the barns and sheds which opened upon the fenced enclosures. the largest and longest of these buildings was now plainly visible, for a long arm of fire reached above the roof on one side how mac strann kept the law of the low shed and by this growing light the other barns, the glimmering-eyed horses and cattle of ‘the corrals, the trees about the house, the house itself, were in turn visible, though vaguely, and at times, as the flame lapsed, all were lost in a flood of swift darkness. once more that unhuman shriek echoed from hill to hill and from building to build- ing. it was satan in his box stall. the flames were eating through the partition, and the stallion was mad with fear. lights flashed, here and there, in the big ranch house; and from the bunk-house on the farther side of the corrals rose a volley of curses and yells of dismay. the cattle began milling blindly, bellowing and stamping, and the horses ranged at a mad gallop back and forth across their corrals, wild-eyed with terror. it was like the tumult of a battle, and sharper than a trumpet a new sound cut through the din—it was a short, high whistle, twice re- peated. an answer came from the burning barn—- the long, strong neighing of the stallion. “d’ye hear?” muttered mac strann. “it’s the hoss talkin’ to his master!” “and there he comes !” said haw-haw langley. “runnin’ like the wind!” the flame, picked up by the gale, tore for itself a wider breathing space through the roof and sent up an audibly roaring column of blinding red. by that light, mac strann, following haw-haw’s di- recting arm, saw a lithe figure vault over the fence the wild geese on the farther side of the corral and dart forward among the milling cattle. now, when cattle begin to mill it takes a brave man on a brave, well-trained horse to trust his chances in the midst of that ocean of tossing horns. but this man ventured it on foot. mac strann could follow him easily, for the man’s hat was ofl’, and the fire-light glittered on his black hair. that glimmering head darted here and there among the circling cattle. now it was lost, swamped, to all appearances, under a score of trampling hooves. again it reappeared on the further side. mac strann could see the runner in a comparatively open space, racing like a trained sprinter, and he headed straight towards a wall of tossing horns. they were long-horns, and one sway of those lowered heads could drive the hard, sharp point through and through the body of a man. yet straight at this impassable wall the stranger rushed, like a warrior in his berserker madness leaping naked upon a hedge of spears. at the verge of the danger the man sprang high into the air: two leaps, from back to back among the herd, and he was across the thickest of danger, down once more on the ground, and dodging past the outskirts of the bel— lowing cows. over the nearer fence he vaulted and disappeared into the smoke which vomitted from the mouth of the burning barn. “god a’mighty,’ ’groaned haw-haw langley, “can he get the hoss out?” “it ain’t possible,” answered mac strann. “all how mac strann kept the law hosses goes mad when they gets in a fire—even when they sees a fire. look at them fools over yonder in the corra .” indeed, in the horse-corral a score of frantic ani- mals were attempting to leap the high rails in the direction of the burning barn. their stamping and snorting came volleying up the hill to the watchers. “all hosses goes mad,” concluded mac strann, “an’ barry’ll get tramped under the feet of his own hoss even if he gets to the stall—which he won’t. look there!” out of the rush of fire and smoke at the door of the barn dan barry stumbled, blindly, and fell back upon the ground. haw-haw langley began to twist his cold hands together in an ecstasy. “the hoss is gone and the wolf is gone, and barry is beat l” he chuckled to himself. “mac, i wouldn’t of missed this for a ten days’ ride. it’s worth it. but see the gal and that new gent, mac!” for when the clamour arose outside the house, buck daniels had run to the window. for many reasons he had not taken off his clothes this night, but had lain down on the bed and folded his hands behind his head to wait. with the first outcry he was at the window and there he saw the flames curling above the roof of the barn, and next, by that wild light, how dan barry raced through the dangerous corral, and then he heard the shrill neigh- ing of satan, and saw dan disappear in the smoking door of the barn. . the wild geese fear drew buck daniels one way but a fine im- pulse drew him another. he turned away from the window with a curse; he turned back to it with a curse, and then, muttering: “he went through hell for me; and him and me together, we’ll go through hell again!” he ran from the room and thundered down the crazy stairs. as he left the house he found kate cumberland, and they went on together, running without a word to each other. only, when he came beside her, she stopped short and flashed one glance at him. by that glance he knew that she understood why he was there, and that she accepted his sacrifice. they hurred around the outer edge of the corrals, and as they approached the flaming barn from one side the men from the bunk-house rushed up from the other. it was buck daniels who reached dan as the latter stumbled back from the door of the barn, surrounded by a following cloud of smoke, and fell stumbling to the ground. and buck raised him. * the-girl was instantly beside them. she had thrown on a white dressing gown when she rose from bed. it was girded high across her breast, and over it showered her bright hair, flash- ing like liquid gold in growing light. she, now, re- ceived the semi-conscious burden of dan barry, and buck daniels stepped forward, close to the smoke. he began to shout directions which the two watch- ers behind the hill could not hear, though they saw his long arms point and gesticulate and they could how mac strann kept the law see his speaking lips. but wild confusion was on the crowd of cowpunchers. they ran here and there. one or two brought buckets of water and tossed the contents uselessly into the swirling, red- stained hell of smoke. but most of them ran here and there, accomplishing nothing. “an’ all this come from one little match, mac,” cried haw-haw ecstatically at the ear of mac strann. “all what we’re seein’! look at the gal, mac! she’s out of her wits! she’s foolin’ about barry, doin’ no good.” a gust of smoke and fire must have met barry face to face when he entered the barn, for he seemed now as helpless as if he were under a strong nar- cotic influence. he leaned heavily back into the arms of the girl, his head rolling wildly from side to side. then, clearer than before, dominating all the confusion of noise, and with a ringing, trumpet note of courage in it, the black stallion neighed again from his burning stall. it had a magic effect upon barry. he stood up and tore himself from the arms of the girl. they saw her gesture and cry to the surrounding men for help, and a dozen hands were stretched out to keep the madman from running again into the fire. they might better have attempted to hold a wild horse with their naked hands. he slipped and broke through their grips, and a second later had leaped into the inferno of smoke, running bent close to the ground where the pure air, if there were any, was sure to be. the wild geese “the gal’s sick !” said haw-haw langley. “look, mac!” and he began to laugh in that braying voice which had given him his nickname. yet even in his laughter his eyes were brightly observant; not a single detail of misery or grief was lost upon him; he drank it in; he fed his famine-stricken soul upon it. kate cumberland had buried her face in her arms; buck daniels, attempting to rush in after dan barry, had been caught beneath the arms by doctor byrne and another and was now borne struggling back. from the very heart of the burning barn the sharp single whistle burst and over the rolling smoke and spring fire rose the answering neigh. a human voice could not have spoken more intelligi- bly: “i wait in trust!” after that neigh and whistle, a quiet fell over the group at the barn door. there was nothing to do. there was not enough wind to blow the flames from this barn to one of the neighbouring sheds; all they could do was to stand still and watch the progress of the conflagration. the deep, thick voice of mac strann broke in: “start prayin’, haw-haw, that the hoss don’t kill barry when he gets to him. start prayin’ that barry is left for me to finish.” he must have meant his singular request more as a figure of speech than a real demand, but an hys- teria was upon haw-haw langley. he stretched up his vast, gaunt arms to the dim spot of red in how mac strann kept the law the central heavens above the fire, and haw-haw prayed for the first and last time in his life. “ lord, gimme this one favour. bring barry safe out of the barn. bring him out even if you got to bring the damned hoss with him. bring him out and save him for mac strann to meet. and, god a’mighty, let me be around somewhere’s when they meet !” this strange exhibition mac strann watched with a glowering eye. “but it ain’t possible,” he said positively. “i been in fires. barry can’t live through the fire; an’ if he does, the hoss will finish him. it ain’t possible for him to come out!” from half the roof of the shed flames now poured, but presently a great shower of sparks rose at the farther end of the barn, and then haw-haw heard the sound of a beating and crashing. “hei!” he screamed, “barry’s reached the black hoss and the black hoss is beating him into the floor!” “you fool!” answered mac strann calmly, “barry has got a beam or something and he’s smashing down the burning partition of the box stall. that’s what he’s doing; listen!” high over the fire, once again rose the neighing of the black horse, a sound of unspeakable triumph. “you’re right,” groaned haw-haw, downcast. “he’s reached the hoss!” he had hardly finished speaking when mac the wild geese strann said: “anyway, he’ll never get out. this end wall of the barn is fallin’ in." indeed, the outer wall of the barn, nearest the door, was wavering in a great section and slowly tottering in. another moment or two it would crash to the floor and block the way of dan barry, com- ing out, with a flaming ruin. next the watchers saw a struggle among the group which watched. three men were struggling with buck daniels, but presently he wrenched his arms free, struck down two men before him with swinging blows of his fists, and leaped into the smoke. “he’s gone nutty, like a crazy hoss with the sight of the fire,” said mac strann quietly. “he ain’t! he ain’t!” cried haw-haw langley, wild with excitement. “he’s holdin’ back the burn- in’ wall to keep the way clear, damn him !” indeed, the tottering wall, not having leaned to a great angle, was now pushed back by some power from the inside of the barn and kept erect. though now and again it swayed in, as though the strength which held it was faltering under the strain. now the eyes of the watchers were called to the other end of the barn by a tremendous crashing. the entire section of that part of the roof fell in, and a shower of sparks leaped up into the heart of the sky, lighting the distant hills and drawing them near like watchers of the horror of the night. “that’s the end,” said mac strann. “haw-haw, they wasnt’ any good in your prayer.” “i aint a professional prayin’ man,” answered how mac strann kept the law haw-haw defensively, “but i done my best. if ” he was cut short by a chorused cry from the watchers near the door of the barn, and then, through the vomitted smoke and the fire, leaped the unsaddled body of satan bearing on his back the crouched figure of dan barry, and in the arms of barry, limp, his head hanging down loosely, was the body of the great black dog, bart. a fearful picture. the smoke swept following around the black stallion, and a great tongue of flame licked hungrily after the trio. but the stallion stood with head erect, and ears flattened, pawing the ground. with that cloud of destruction blow- ing him he stood like the charger which the last survivor might ride through the ruin of the universe in the twilight of the gods. at the same instant, another smoke-clad figure lunged from the door of the barn, his hands out- stretched as though he felt and fumbled his way through utter darkness. it was buck daniels, and as he cleared the door the section of tottering wall which he had upheld to keep the way clear for the three, wavered, sagged, and then sank in thun- der to the floor, and the whole barn lay a flame- tossed mass of ruin. the watchers had scattered before the plunge of satan, but he came to a sliding halt, as if his rider had borne heavily back upon the reins. barry slipped from the stallion’s back with the wounded dog, and kneeled above the limp figure. the wild geese “it ain’t the end,” growled mac strann, "that hoss will go runnin’ back into the fire. it ain’t hoss na- ture to keep from goin’ mad at the sight of a fire!” in answer to him, the black stallion whirled, raised his head high, and, with flaunting mane and tail, neighed a ringing defiance at the rising flames. then he turned back and nuzzled the shoulder of his master, who was working with swift hands over the body of black bart. “anyway,” snarled haw-haw langley, “the damned wolf is dead.” “i dunno,” said mac strann. “maybe—maybe not. they’s quite a pile that we dunno.” “if you want to get rid of the hoss,” urged haw- haw, writhing in the glee of a new inspiration, “now’s the time for it, mac. get out your gun and pot the black. before the crowd can get after us, we’ll be miles away. they ain’t a saddled hoss in sight. well, if you dont’ want to do it, i will!” and he whipped out his gun. but mac strann reached across and dragged the muzzle down. “we done all we’re goin’ to do to-night. seems like god’s been listenin’ pretty close, around here !” he turned his horse, and haw-haw, reluctantly, followed suit. still, as they trotted slowly away from the burning barn, haw-haw kept his glance fixed behind him until a final roaring crash and a bellying cloud of fire that smote the zenith an- nounced the end of the barn. then haw-haw turned his face to his companion. how mac strann kept the law “now what?” he demanded. “we go to elkhead and sit down and wait,” an- swered mac strann. “if the dog gets well he’ll bring barry to us. then all i’ve got to do is de- fend myself.” haw—haw langley twisted up his face and laugh- - ed, silently, to the red-stained sky. chapter xxiv doctor byrne looks into the past the black head of barry, the brown head of randall byrne, the golden head of kate cumber- land, were all bowed around the limp body of black bart. buck daniels, still gasping for breath, stood reeling nearby. “let me attempt to resuscitate the animal," of- fered the doctor. he was met by a blank look from barry. the hair of the man was scorched, his skin was blistered and burned. only his hands remained uninjured, and these continued to move over the body of the great dog. kate cumberland was on her knees over the brute. “is it fatal, dan p” she asked. “is there no hope for bart?” there was no answer from barry, and she at- tempted to raise the fallen, lifeless head of the ani- mal; but instantly a strong arm darted out and brushed her hands away. those hands fell idly at her sides and her head went back as though she had been struck across the face. she found herself look- ing up into the angry eyes of randall byrne. he reached down and raised her to her feet; there was no colour in her face, no life in her limbs. doctor byrne looks into the past “there’s nothing more to be done here, appa- rently,” said the doctor coldly. “suppose we take your father and go back to the house.” she made neither assent nor dissent. dan barry had finished a swift, deft bandage and stopped the bleeding of the dog’s wounds. now he raised his head and his glance slipped rapidly over the faces of the doctor and the girl and rested on buck dan- iels. there was no flash of kindly thanks, no word of recognition. his right hand raised to his cheek, and rested there, and in his eyes came that flare of yellow hate. buck daniels shrank back until he was lost in the crowd. then he turned and stumbled back towards the house. instantly, barry began to work at expanding and depressing the lungs of the huge animal as he might have worked to bring a man back to life. “watch him l” whispered the doctor to kate cum- berland. “he is closer to that dog—that wolf, it looks like—than he has ever been to any human being!” she would not answer, but she turned her head quickly away from the man and his beast. “are you afraid to watch?” challenged byrne, for his anger at barry’s blunt refusals still made his blood hot. “when your father lay at death’s door was he half so anxious as he is now? did he work so hard, by half? see how his eyes are fixed on the muzzle of the beast as if he were study- ing a human face!” “no, no!” breathed the girl. - the wild geese “i tell you, look !” commanded the doctor. “for there’s the solution of the mystery. no mystery at all. barry is simply a man who is closer akin to the brute forces in nature. see! by the eternal heavens, he’s dragging that beast—that dumb beast —back from the door of death !” barry had ceased his rapid manipulations, and turned the big dog back upon its side. now the eyes of black bart opened, and winked shut again. now the master kneeled at the head of the beast and took the scarred, shaggy head betwen his hands. “bart!” he commanded. not a stir in the long, black body. the stallion edged a pace closer, dropped his velvet muzzle, and whinnied softly at the very ear of the dog. still, there was not an answering quiver. “bart!” called the man again, and there was a ring of wild grief—of fear—in his cry. “do you hear?” said byrne savagely, at the ear of the girl. “did you ever use such a tone with a human being? ever?” “take me away!” she murmured. “i’m sick— sick at heart. take me away!” indeed, she was scarcely sure of her poise, and tottered where she stood. doctor byrne slipped his arm about her and led her away, supporting half her weight. they went slowly, by small, soft steps, towards the house, and before they reached it, he knew that she was weeping. but if there was sad- ness in byrne, there was also a great joy. he was afire, for there is a flamelike quality in hope. doctor byrne looks into the past loss of blood and the stifling smoke, rather than a mortal injury or the touch of fire, had brought black bart close to death, but now that his breath— ing was restored, and almost normal, he gained rap- idly. one instant he lingered on the border between life and death; the next, the brute’s eyes opened and glittered with dim recognition up towards dan, and he licked the hand which supported his head. at dan’s direction, a blanket was brought, and after dan had lifted black bart upon it, four men raised the corners of the blanket and carried the burden towards the house. one of the cowpunch- ers went ahead bearing the light. this was the sight which doctor byrne and kate cumberland saw from the veranda of the ranch-house as they turned and looked back before going in. “a funeral procession,” suggested the doctor. “no,” she answered positively. “if black bart were dead, dan wouldn’t allow any hands save his own to touch the body. no, black bart is alive! yet, it’s impossible.” the word “impossible,” however, was gradually dropping from the vocabulary of randall byrne. true, the wolf-dog had seemed dead past recovery and across the eyes of byrne came a vision of the dead rising from their graves. yet he merely shook his head and said nothing. “ah !” she broke in. “look!” the procession drew nearer, heading towards the back of the big house, and now they saw that dan barry walked beside the body of black bart, a smile the wild geese on his lifted face. they disappeared behind the back of the house. byrne heard the girl murmuring, more to herself than to him: “once he was like that all the time.” “like what?” he asked bluntly. she paused, and then her hand dropped lightly on his arm. he could not see more than a vague out- line of her in the night, only the dull glimmer of her face as she turned her head, and the faint white- ness of her hand. “let’s say good-night,” she answered, at length. “our little worlds have toppled about our heads to-night—all your theories, it seems, and, god knows, all that i have hoped. why should we stay here and make ourselves miserable by talk?” “but because we have failed,” he said steadily, “is that a reason we should creep off and brood over our failure in silence? no, let’s talk it out, man to man.” “you have a fine courage,” said the girl. “but what is there we can say?” he answered: “for my part, i am not so misera- ble as you think. for i feel as if this night had driven us closer together, you see; and i’ve caught a perspective on everything that has happened here.” “tell me what you know.” “only what i think i know. it may be painful to hear.” “i’m very used to pain.” “well, a moment ago, when barry was walking beside his dog, smiling, you murmured that he once the wild geese as he walked! so dad took him home and sent out letters all about—to the railroad in particular —to find out if such a boy was missing. “he received no answer. in the meantime he gave dan a room in the house; and i remember how dan sat at the table the first night—i was a very lit- tle girl then—and how i laughed at his strange way of eating. his knife was the only thing he was interested in and he made it serve for knife, fork, and spoon, and he held the meat in his fingers while he cut it. the next morning he was missing. one of dad’s range riders picked up dan several miles to the north, walking along, whistling gayly. the next morning he was missing again and was caught still farther away. after that dad had a terrible scene with him —i don’t know exactly what happened—but dan promised to run away no more, and ever since then dad has been closer to dan than anyone else. “so dan grew up. from the time i could first distinctly remember, he was very gentle and good- natured, but he was different, always. after a while he got black bart, you know, and then he went out with a halter and captured satan. think of capturing a wild mustang with nothing but a halter! he played around with them so much that i was jealous of them. so i kept with them until bart and satan were rather used to me. bart would even play with me now and then when dan wasn’t qnear. and so finally dan and i were to be married. “dad didn’t like the idea. he was afraid of what doctor byrne looks into the past dan might become. and he was right. one day, in a saloon that used to stand on that hill over there, dan had a fight——his first fight—with a man who had struck him across the mouth for no good rea- son. that man was jim silent. of course you’ve heard of him p” “never.” “he was a famous long-rider—an outlaw with a very black record. at the end of that fight he struck dan down with a chair and escaped. i went down to dan when i heard of the fight—black. bart led me down, to be exact—but dan would not come back to the house, and he’d have no more to do with anyone until he had found jim silent. i can’t tell you everything that happened. finally he caught jim silent and killed him—with his bare hands. buck daniels saw it. then dan came back to us, but on the first night he began to grow rest- less. it was last fall—the wild geese were flying south-and while they were honking in the sky dan got up, said good-bye, and left us. we have never seen him again until to-night. all we knew was that he had ridden south—after the wild gesee.” a long silence fell between them, for the doctor was thinking hard. “and when he came back,” he said, “barry did not know you? i mean .you were nothing to him ?” “you were there,” said the girl, faintly. “it is perfectly clear,” said byrne. “if it were a little more commonplace it might be puzzling, but being so extraordinary it clears itself up. did you doctor byrne looks into the past - man. in reality he was no more a man than black bart is a man. he had the face and form of a man, but his instincts were as old as the ages. the animal world obeys him. satan neighs in answer to his whistle. the wolf-dog licks his hand at the point of death. there is the profound difference, always. you try to reconcile him with other men; you give him the attributes of other men. open your eyes; see the truth: that he is no more akin to man than black bart is like a man. and when you give him your affection, miss cumberland, you are giving your afiection to a wild wolf! do you believe me?” he knew that she was shaken. he could feel it, even without the testimony of his eyes to witness. he went on, speaking with great rapidity, lest she should escape from the influence which he had al- ready gained over her. “i felt it when i first saw him—a certain name- less kinship with elemental forces. the wind blew through the open door—it was dan barry. the wild geese called from the open sky—for dan barry. these are the things which lead him. these the forces which direct him. you have loved him; but is love merely a giving? no, you have seen in him a man, but i see in him merely the animal force.” she said after a moment: “do you hate him—- you plead against him so passionately?” he answered: “can you hate a thing which is not human? no, but you can dread it. it escapes from the laws which bind you and which bind me. the wild geese what standards govern it? how can you hope to win it? love? what beauty is there in the world to appeal to such a creature except the beauty of the marrow-bone which his teeth have the strength to snap?” “ah, listen!” murmured the girl. “here is your answer!” and doctor randall byrne heard a sound like the muted music of the violin, thin and small and won- derfully penetrating. he could not tell, at first, what it might be. for it was as unlike the violin as it was like the bow and the rosined strings. then he made out, surely, that it was the whistling of a human being. it followed no tune, no reasoned theme. the music was beautiful in its own self. it rose straight up like the sky-lark from the ground, sheer up against the white light of the sky, and there it sang against heaven’s gate. he had never heard harmony like it. he would never again hear such music, so thin and yet so full that it went through and through him, until he felt the strains take a new, imitative life within him. he would have whistled the strains himself, but he could not follow them. they es- caped him, they soared above him. they followed no law or rhythm. they flew on wings and left him far below. the girl moved away from him as if led by an invisible hand, and now she stood at the extremity of the porch. he followed her. “do you hear?” she cried, turning to him. “what is it?” asked the doctor. doctor byrne looks into the past “it is he! don’t ou understand?” ’ y “barry? yes! but what does the whistling mean; is it for his wolf-dog?” “i don’t know,” she answered quickly. “all i un- derstand is that it is beautiful. where are your theories and explanations now, doctor byrne ?” “it is beautiful—god knows !—but doesn’t the wolf-dog understand it better than either you or i?” she turned and faced byrne, standing very close, and when she spoke there was something in her voice which was like a light. in spite of the dark he could guess at every varying shade of her ex- pression. “to the rest of us,” she murmured, “dan has nothing but silence, and hardly a glance. buck saved his life to-night, and yet dan remembered nothing except the blow which had been struck. and now—now he pours out all the music in his soul for a dumb beast. listen!” he saw her straighten herself and stand taller. “then through the wolf—i’ll conquer through ' the dumb beast!” she whipped past byrne and disappeared into the house; at the same instant the whistling, in the midst of a faint, high climax, broke, shivered, and was ended. there was only the darkness and the silence around byrne, and the unsteady wind against his face. chapter xxv were-wolf doctor byrne, pacing the front veranda with his thoughtful head bowed, saw buck daniels step out with his quirt dangling in his hand, his cartridge belt buckled about his waist, and a great red silk bandana knotted at his throat. he was older by ten years than he had been a few days before, when the doctor first saw him. to be sure, his appearance was not improved by a three days’ growth of beard. it gave his naturally dark skin a dirty cast, but even that rough stubble could not completely shroud the new hollows in daniels’ cheeks. his long, black, uncombed hair, sagged down raggedly across his forehead, hanging ahnost into his eyes; the eyes themselves were sunk in such formidable cavities that byrne caught hardly more than two points of light in the shadows. all the devil-may-care insouciance of buck daniels was quite, quite gone. in its place was a dogged sullen- ness, a hang-dog air which one would not care to face of a dark night or in a lonely place. his manner was that of a man whose back is against the wall, who, having fled some keen pursuit, has now come to the end of his tether and prepares were-wolf for desperate even‘ if hopeless battle. there was that about him which made the doctor hesitate to address the cowpuncher. at length he said: “you’re going out for an outing, mr. daniels?” buck daniels started violently at the sound of this voice behind him, and whirled upon the doctor with such a set and contorted expression of fierce- ness that byrne jumped back. “good god, man!” cried the doctor, “what’s up with you?” “nothin’,” answered buck, gradually relaxing from his first show of suspicion. “i’m beating it. that’s all.” “leaving us p” “yes.” “not really!” “d’you think i ought to stay p” asked buck, with something of a sneer. the doctor hesitated, frowning in a puzzled way. at length he threw out his hands in a gesture of mute abandonment. “my dear fellow,” he said with a faint smile, “i’ve about stopped trying to think.” at this buck daniels grinned mirthlessly. “now you’re talkin’ sense,” he nodded. “they ain’t no use in thinking.” “but why do you leave so suddenly p” buck daniels shrugged his broad shoulders. “i am sure,” went on byrne, “that miss cumber- land will miss you.” the wild geese left myself in her place. i took her away and all so’s she could go to him. damn him! and now on account of him i got to leave this place.” his voice rose to a ringing pitch. “d’you think it’s easy for me to go? d’you think it ain’t like tearing a finger-nail off’n the flesh for me to go away from kate? god knows what she means to me! god knows, but if he does, he’s forgotten me!” anguish of spirit set buck daniels shaking, and the doctor looked on in amazement. he was like one who reaches in his pocket for a copper coin and brings out a handful of gold-pieces. “kind feelin’s don’t come easy to me,” went on buck daniels. “i been raised to fight. i been raised to hard ridin’ and dust in the throat. i been raised on whiskey and hate. and then i met dan barry, and his voice was softer’n a girl’s voice, and his eyes didn’t hold no doubt of me. me that had sneaked in on him at night and was goin’ to kill him in his sleep—because my chief had told me to! that was the dan barry what i first knew. he give me his hand and give me the trust of his eyes, and after he left me i sat down and took my head between my hands and my heart was like to bust inside me. it was like the clouds had blowed away from the sun and let it shine on me for the first time in my life. and i swore that if the time come i’d repay him. for every cent he give me i’d pay him back in gold. i’d foller to the end of the world to do what he bid me do.” were-wolf his voice dropped suddenly, choked with emotion. “oh, doc, they was tears come in my eyes; and i felt sort of clean inside, and i wasn’t ashamed of them tears! that was what dan barry done for me! “and i did pay him back, as much as i could. i met kate cumberland and she was to me among girls what dan barry was to me among men. i ain’t ashamed of sayin’ it. i loved her till they was a dryness like ashes inside me, but i wouldn’t even lift up my eyes to her, because she belonged to him. i follered her around like a dog. i done her bidding. i asked no questions. what she wanted—- that was law to me, and all the law i wanted. all that i done for the sake of dan barry. and then i took my life in my hands for him—not once, but day after day. “then he rode off and left her and i stayed be- hind. d’you think it’s been easy to stay here? man, man, i’ve had to hear her talkin’ about dan barry day after day, and never a word for me. and i had to tell her stories about dan and what he’d used to do, and she’ sit with her eyes miles away from me, listenin’ an smilin’ and me there hungerin’ for just one look out of her eyes—hungerin’ like a dyin’ dog for water. and then for her and joe i rode down south and when i met dan barry d’you think they was any light in his eyes when he seen me? “n o, he’d forgotten me the way even a hoss won’t forget his master. forgot me after a few months— and after all that’d gone between us! not even the wild geese kate—even she was nothin’ to him. but still i kept at it and i brought him back. i had to hurt him to do it, but god knows it wasn’t out of spite that i hit him—god knows! “and when i seen dan go into that burnin’ barn i says to myself: ‘buck, if nothin’ is done that wall will fall and there’s the end of dan barry. there’s the end of him, that ain’t any human use, and when ‘ he’s finished after a while maybe kate will get to know that they’s other men in the world besides dan.’ i says that to myself, deep and still inside me. and then i looked at kate standin’ in that white thing with her yaller hair all blowin’ about her face—and i wanted her like a dyin’ man wants heaven! but then i says to myself again: ‘no matter what’s happened, he’s been my friend. he’s been my pal. he’s been my bunkie.’ “doc, you ain’t got a way of knowin’ what a partner is out here. maybe you sit in the desert about a thousand miles from nowhere, and across the little mesquite fire, there’s your pal, the only hu- man thing in sight. maybe you go months seein’ only him. if you’re sick he takes care of you. if you’re blue he cheers you up. and that’s what dan barry was to me. so i stands sayin’ these things to myself, and i says: ‘if i keep that wall from fallin’ dan’ll know about it, and they won’t be no more of that yaller light in his eyes when he looks at me. that’s what i says to myself, poor fool! “and i went into the fire and i fought to keep that wall from fallin’. you know what happened. were-wolf when i come out, staggerin’ and blind and three parts dead, dan barry looks up to me and touches his face where i’d hit him, and the yaller comes up glimmerin’ and blazin’ in his eyes. then i went back to my room and i fought it out. “and here’s where i stand now. if i stay here, if i see that yaller light once more, they won’t be no waitin’. him and me’ll have to have it out right then. am i a dog, maybe, that i got to stand around and jump when he calls me?” “my dear fellow—my dear mr. daniels!” cried the horrified doctor byrne. “surely you’re wrong. he wouldn’t go so far as to make a personal attack upon you !” “wouldn’t he? bah! not if he was a man, no. i tell you, he ain’t a man; he’s what the canuks up north call a were-wolf! there ain’t no mercy or kindness in him. the blood of a man means nothin’ to him. the world would be better rid of him. oh, he can be soft and gentle as a girl. mostly he is. but cross him once and he forgets all you done for him. give him a. taste of blood and he jumps at your throat. i tell you, i’ve seen him do it!” he broke off with a shudder. “doc,” he said, in a lower and solemn voice. “maybe i’ve said too much. don’t tell kate nothin’ about why i’m goin’. let her go on dreamin’ her fool dream. but now hear what i’m sayin’: if dan barry crosses me once more, one of us two dies, and dies damned quick. it may be me, it may be him, the wild geese but i’ve come to the end of my rope. i’m leavin’ this place till barry gets a chance to come to his senses and see what i’ve done for him. that’s all. i’m leavin’ this place because they’s a blight on it, and that blight is dan barry. i’m leaving this place because—doc—because i can smell the comin’ of bloodshed in it. they’s a death hangin’ over it. if the lightnin’ was to hit and burn it up, house and man, the range would be better for it ” and he turned on his heel and strode slowly down towards the corral. doctor byrne followed his progress with starting eyes. chapter xxvi the battle the chain which fastened black bart had been passed around the trunk of a tree that stood behind the ranch house, and there the great dog lay teth- ered. doctor byrne had told whistling dan, with some degree of horror, that the open air was in the highest degree dangerous to wounds, but whis- tling dan had returned no answer. black bart lay all day in the soft sand, easing himself from time to time into a new position, and his thought- ful eyes seemed to be concentrated on the desire to grow well. beside him was the chair in which dan barry sat for many an hour of the day and even the night, kate cumberland watched the animal from the shadow of the house; his eyes were closed, and the long, powerfulhead lay inert on the sand, yet she knew that the wolf-dog was perfectly aware of her presence. day after day since he lay there, she had attempted to approach black bart, and day after day he had allowed her to come within reaching distance of him, only to drive her back at the last moment by a sudden display of the murderous, long fangs; or by one of those snarls which came out the wild geese of the black depths of his heart. now, a dog snarls from not far down in its throat, but the noise of an angered wild beast rolls up out of its very en- trails—a passion of hate and defiance. and when she heard that sound, or when she saw the still more terrible silent rage of the beast, kate cumber- land’s spirit failed, and she would shrink back again to a safe distance. she was not easily discouraged. she had that grim resolution which comes to the gambler after he has played at the same table night after night, night after night, and lost, lost, lost, until, playing with the last of his money, he begins to mutter through his set teeth: “the luck must change!” so it was with kate cumberland. for in black bart she saw the only possible clue to whistling dan. there was the stallion, to be sure, but she knew satan too well. nothing in the wide world could induce that wild heart to accept more than one master—more than one friend. for satan there was in the animal world black bart, and in the world of men, dan barry. these were enough. for all the rest he kept the disdainful speed of his slender legs or the terror of his teeth and trampling hoofs. even if she could have induced the stallion to eat from her hand she could never have made him willing to trust himself to her guidance. some such thing she felt that she must accomplish with _ black bart. t o the wild beast with the scarred and shaggy head she must become a necessary, an ac- cepted thing. the battle one repulse did not dishearten her. again and agaln she made the trial. she remembered having read that no animal can resist the thoughtful pa- tience of thinking man, and hour after hour she was there, until a new light in the eye of the wolf-dog warned her that the true master was coming. then she fled, and from a post of vantage in the house she would watch the two. an intimacy sur- passing the friendships and devotions of human be- ings existed between them. she had seen the wolf lie with his great head on the foot of his master and the unchanging eyes fixed on barry’s face—and so for an hour at a stretch in mute worship. or she had watched the master go to the great beast to change the dressing—a thing which could not be done too often during the day. she had seen the swift hands remove the bandages and she had seen the cleansing solution applied. she knew what it was; it stung even the unscratched skin, and to a wound it must be torture, but the wolf lay and endured—not even shuddering at the pain. it had seemed to her that this was the great test. if she could make the wolf lie like this for her, then, truly, she might feel herself in some measure admitted to that mystic fellowship of the three— the man, the stallion, and the wolf. if she could, with her own unaided hands, remove the bandages and apply that solution, then she could know many things, and she could feel that she was nearer to whistling dan than ever before. so she had come, time and again, with the basin the battle in either eye, and past the grinning fangs she saw the hot, red throat, and she saw the flattened ears, the scars on the bony forehead, the muscles that bulged on the base of the jaw. ay, strength to drive those knife-like teeth through flesh and bone at a single snap. more—she had seen their effect, and the throat of a bull cut at a single slash. and yet—she sank on her knees beside the monster. his head was well nigh as high as hers, then; if he attacked there could be no dream of escape for her. or she might drag herself away from the tearing teeth—a disfigured horror forever. think not that an iota of all these terrors missed her mind. no, she felt the fangs buried in her throat and heard the snarl of the beast stifled with blood. yet—she laid her hand on the bandage across the shoulder of black bart. his head whirled. with those cars flattened, with that long, lean neck, it was like the head of a strik—' ing snake. her sleeve was rolled up to the elbow, and over the bare skin the teeth of the wolf-dog were set. the snarl had grown so deep and hideous that the tremor of it fairly shook her, and she saw that the jaws of the beast slavered with hunger. she knew—a thousand things about black bart, and among the rest that he had tasted human blood. and there is a. legend which says that bnce a wild beast has tasted the blood of man he will taste it a second time before he dies. she thought of that— she dared not turn her head lest she should en- counter the hellfire of bart’s eyes. yet she had the wild geese passed all ordinary fear. she had reached that ex- quisite frenzy of terror when it becomes one with courage. the very arm over which the wolf’s teeth were set moved—raised—and with both hands she untied the knot of the bandage. the snarling rose to a pitch of maniacal rage; the teeth compressed—if they broke the skin it was the end; the first taste of blood would be enough !—and drew away her arm. if she had started then, all the devil in the creature would be loosed, for her terror taught her that. and by some mysterious power that entered her at that moment she was able to turn her head, slowly, and look deep into those terrible eyes. her arm was released. but black bart crouched and the snakelike head lowered; he was quivering throughout that steel- muscled body to throw himself at her throat. the finger was on the hair-trigger; it needed a pressure not greater than a bodiless thought. and still she looked into the eyes of the wolf-dog; and her terror had made her strangely light of body and dizzy of mind. then the change came, suddenly. the yel- low—green changed, swirled in the eyes of black bart; the eyes themselves wavered, and at last looked away; the snarl dropped to a sullen growl. and black 'bart lay down as he had been before. his head was still turned towards her, to be sure. and the teeth were still bared, as with rapid, deft fingers she undid the bandage; and from instant to instant, as the bandage in spite of her care pressed the wild geese grew stiff, and trembled. slowly, in a panic, she finished the knot, and then she was aware of some- one who had approached without sound and now stood behind her. she looked up, at length, before she rose to her feet. thankfulness welled up warm in her heart to find her voice steady and commonplace when she said: “the wound is much better. bart will be well in a very few days now.” whistling dan did not answer, and his wonder- ing eyes glanced past her own. she saw that he was staring at a double row of white indentations on her forearm, where the teeth of black bart had set. he knew those marks, and she knew he knew. strength was leaving her, and weakness went through her—water where blood should have been. she dared not stay. in another moment she would be hopelessly in the grip of hysteria. so she rose, and passed dan without a word, and went slowly towards the house. she tried to hurry, indeed, but her legs would not quicken their pace. yet at length she had reached shelter and no sooner was she past the door of the house than her knees buckled; she had to steady herself with both hands ' as she dragged herself up the stairs to her room. there, from the window, she looked down and saw whistling dan standing as she had left him, staring blankly at the wolf-dog. chapter xxvii the conquest there was no star-storming confidence in kate cumberland after that first victory. rather she felt as the general who deploys his skirmishers and drives in the outposts of an enemy. the advantage is his, but it has really only served to give him some intimation of the strength of the enemy. at the supper table this night she found whistling dan watching her—not openly, for she could never catch his eye—but subtly, secretly, she knew that he was measuring her, studying her; whether in hostility, amity, or mere wonder, she could not tell. finally a vast uneasiness overtook her and she turned to the doctor for relief. doctor randall byrne held a singular position in the attention of kate. since the night of the fire and her open talk with him, the doctor knew “everything,” and women are troubled in the presence of a man who knows the details of the past. the shield behind which they hide in social inter- course is a touch of mystery—or at least a hope of mystery. the doctor, however, was not like other men; he was more similar to a precocious child and she comforted herself in his obvious talent for the conquest . slenderness, the same delicacy with which the details were finished; the same fragile hands, for instance. the distinction lay in a suggestion of strength and inexhaustible reserve of energy which dan barry possessed. the distinction lay still more in their faces. that of byrne was worn and pallied from the long quest and struggle for truth; the body was feeble; the eyes were uncertain; but within there was a powerful machine which could work infallibly from the small to the large and the large to the small. with whisting dan there was no sugges- tion at all of mental care. she could not imagine him worrying over a problem. his knowledge was not even communicable by words; it was more im- palpable than the instinct of a woman; and there was about him the wisdom and the coldness of black bart himself. the supper ended too soon for kate. she had been rallying randall byrne, and as soon as he could graciously leave, the poor fellow rose with a crimson face and left the room; and behind him, sauntering apparently in the most casual manner, went whistling dan. as for kate cumberland, she could not put all the inferences together—she dared not; but when she lay in her bed that night it was a long time before she could sleep, for there was a voice inside her, singing. she chose her time the next day. dan alter- nated between black bart and old joe cumberland during most of the day, and no sooner had he left the conquest their flanks. while she watched, they rushed to— gether, bellowing, and for a moment they swayed back and forth. it was an unequal battle, however, for one of the animals was a hardened veteran, scarred from many a battle on the range, while the other was a young three-year old with a body not half so strong as his heart. for a short time he sus- tained the weight of the larger bull, but eventually his knees buckled, and then dropped heavily against the earth. at that the older bull drew back a little and charged again. this time he avoided the long horns of his rival and made the unprotected flank of . the animal his target. if he had charged squarely the horns would have been buried to the head; but striking at an angle only one of them touched the target and delivered a long, ripping blow. with the blood streaming down his side, the wounded bull made off into a group of cows, and when the victor pursued him closely, he at length turned tail and leaped the low fence—for the corral was a new one, hastily built for the occasion. the conqueror raised his head inside the fence and bellowed his triumph, and outside the fence the other commenced pawing up the sand again, switching his tail across his bleeding side, and turning his little red eyes here and there. they fixed, at length, upon kate cum- berland, and she remembered with a start of horror that she was wearing a bright red blouse. the next instant the bull was charging. she turned in a hopeless flight. safety was hundreds of yards away in the house; the skirts tangled about her legs; . the wild geese and behind her the dull impacts of the bull’s hoofs swept close and closer. then she heard a snarl in front, a deep-throated, murderous snarl, and she saw black bart racing towards her. he whizzed by her like a black thunderbolt; there was a roar and bellow behind her, and at the same time she stumbled over a fence-board and fell upon her knees. but when she cast a glance of terror behind her she saw the bull lying on its side with lolling tongue and glazing eyes and the fangs of black dart were buried in its throat. when she reached this point in her musings her glance naturally turned towards the wolf-dog, and she started violently when she saw that bart wa.r slinking towards her, trailing the helpless leg. the moment he felt her eyes upon him, bart dropped down, motionless, with a wicked baring of his teeth; his eyes closed, and he seemed, as usual, dreaming in the sun. was the brute stalking her? it was worse, in a way, than the ordeal of the day before, this stealthy, noiseless approach. and in her panic she first thought of springing from her chair and reaching a distance which the chain would keep him from fol- lowing. yet it was very strange. black bart in his wildest days after dan brought him to the ranch had never been prone to wantonly attack human be- ings. infringe upon his right, come suddenly upon him, and then, indeed, there was a danger to all saving his master. but this daylight stalking was stranger than words could tell. the wild geese a moment and stared in the face of the girl. the fear rushed out of her heart; and her face flushed hotly with relief. there was no enmity in the steady stare of the wolf-dog. she could feel that even though she did not look. something that whistling dan had said long before came to her: “even a hoss and a dog, kate, can get terrible lone- some.” black- bart moved until he faced her directly. his ears were pricking in eagerness; she heard a snarl, but so low and muffled that there was hardly a threat in it; could it be a plea for attention? she would not look down to the sharp eyes, until a weight fell on her knees—it was the long, scarred head of the wolf! the joy that swelled in her was so great that it pained her like a grief. she stretched out her hand, slowly, slowly to- wards that head. and black bart shrank and quivered, and his lips writhed back from the long, deadly teeth, and his snarl grew to a harsher, hoarser threat; still he did not remove his head, and he allowed the hand to touch him between the eyes and stroke the fur back to between the ears. only one other hand had ever touched that formida- . ble head in such a manner! the teeth no longer showed; the keen, suspicious eyes grew dim with pleasure; the snarl sank to murmur and then died out. “bart!” commanded the girl, sharply. the head jerked up, but the questing eyes did not look at her. he glanced over his shoulder to the conquest find the danger that had made her voice so hard. and she yearned to take the fierce head in her arms; there were tears she could have wept over it. he was snarling again, prepared already to battle, and for her sake. “bart!” she repeated, more gently. “lie down!” he turned his head slowly back to her and looked with the unspeakable wistfulness of the dumb brutes into her eyes. but there was only one voice in which bart could speak, and that was the harsh, rattling snarl which would have made a mountain- lion check itself mid-leap and slink back to its lair. in such a voice he answered kate, and then sank down, gradually. and he lay still. so simply, and yet so mysteriously, she was ad~ mitted to the partnership. but though one member of that swift, grim trio had accepted her, did it mean that the other two would take her in? a weight sank on her feet and when she looked down she saw that black bart had lowered his head upon them, and so he lay there with his eyes closed. dreaming in the sun. chapter xxviii the trail bandages and antiseptics and constant care, by themselves could not have healed black bart so swiftly, but nature took a strong hand. the wound closed with miraculous speed. three days after he had laid his head on the feet of kate cumberland, the wolf-dog was hobbling about on three legs and tugging now and again at the restraining chain; and the day after that the bandages were taken off and whistling dan decided that bart might run loose. it was a brief ceremony, but a vital one. doctor byrne went out with barry to watch the loosing of the dog; from the window of joe cum- berland’s room he and kate observed what passed. there was little hesitancy in black bart. he merely paused to sniff the foot of randall byrne, snarl, and then trotted with a limp towards the corrals. here, in a small enclosure with rails much higher than the other corrals, stood satan, and black bart made straight for the stallion. he was seen from afar, and the black horse stood waiting, his head thrown high in the air, his ears pricking forward, the tail flaunting, a picture of expectancy. so un- der the lower rail bart slunk and stood under the head of satan, growling terribly. of this display the wild geese said byrne, by way of conversation. “do you sup- pose that one of the men from the bunk-house could have shot him?” but dan seemed no longer aware of the doctor’s presence. he slipped here and there with the wolf- dog among the ash-heaps, pausing when bart paused, talking to the brute continually. sometimes he pointed out to bart things which the doctor did not perceive and bart whined with a terrible, slav- ering, blood-eagerness. the wolf-dog suddenly left the ash-heaps and now darted in swiftly entangled lines here and there among the barns; dan barry stood thoughtfully still, but now and then he called a word of encou- ragement. and black bart stayed with his work. now he struck out a wide circle, running always with his nose close to the ground. again he doubled back sharply to the barn-site, and began again in a new direction. he ran swiftly, sometimes putting his injured leg to the ground with hardly a limp, and again drawing it up and running on three feet. in a moment he passed out of sight behind a slight rise of ground to the left of the ash-heaps, and at some little distance. he did not reappear. in- stead, a long, shrill wail came wavering towards the doctor and dan barry. it raised the hair on the head of the doctor and sent a chill through his veins; but it sent whistling dan racing towards the place behind which black bart had disappeared. the trail the doctor hurried after as fast as he might and. came upon the wolf-dog making small, swift cir- cles, his nose to the ground, and then crossing- to and fro out of the circles. and the face of the master was black while he watched. he ran again to bart and began talking swiftly. “d’you see?” he asked, pointing. “from behind this here hill you could get a pretty good sight of the barn—and you wouldn’t be seen, hardly, from the barn. someone must have waited here. look. about, bart, you’ll be findin’ a pile of signs, around here. it means that them that done the shootin" and the firin’ of the barn stood right here behind this hill-top and watched the barn burn—and was hopin’ that satan and you wouldn’t ever come out alive. that’s the story.” he dropped to his knees and caught bart as the- big dog ran by. “find ’em, bart!” he whispered. “find ’em!” and he struck sharply on the scar where the bul-- let had ploughed its way into bart’s flesh. the answer of bart was a yelp too sharp and too highly pitched to have come from the throat of any mere dog. once more he darted out and ran here and there, and doctor byrne heard the» beast moaning as it ran. then bart ceased cir- cling and cut down the slope away from the hill at a sharp trot. a cry of inarticulate joy burst from dan, and then: “you’ve found it! you have it!” and the master ran swiftly after the dog. he followed the: . the wild geese latter only for a short distance down the slope and then stood still and whistled. he had to repeat the callv before the dog turned and ran back to his master, where he whined eagerly about the man’s feet. there was something uncanny and horrible about it; it was as if the dumb beast was asking for a life, and the life of a man. the doctor turned back and walked thoughtfully to the house. at the door he was met by kate and a burst of eager questions, and he told, simply, all that he had seen. “you’ll get the details from mr. barry,” he con- cluded. “i know the details,” answered the girl. “he’s found the trail and he knows where it points, now. and he’ll want to be following it before many hours have passed. doctor byrne, i need you now—ter- ribly. you must convince dan that if he leaves us it will be a positive danger to dad. can you do that p” “at least,” said the doctor, “there will be little deception in that. i will do what i can to persuade him to stay.” “then,” she said hurriedly, “sit here, and i shall sit here. we’ll meet dan together when he comes in.” they had hardly taken their places when barry entered, the wolf at his heels; at the door he paused to flash a glance at them and then crossed the room. on the farther side he stopped again. “i might be tellin’ you,” he said in his soft voice, chapter xxix talk he was long in getting his answer. the hours dragged on slowly for kate and the doctor, for if joe cumberland could hold dan it was everything to the girl, and if barry left at once there might be some root for the hope which was growing stronger and stronger every day in the heart of randall byrne. before evening a not unwelcome diversion broke the suspense somewhat. it was the arrival of no less a person than mar- shal _ieff calkins. his shoulders were humped and his short legs bowed from continual riding, and his head was slung far forward on a gaunt neck; so that when he turned his head from one to an- other in speaking it was with a peculiar pendulum motion. the marshal had a reputation which was strong over three hundred miles and more of a mountain-desert. this was strange, for the mar- shal was a very talkative man, and talkative men are not popular on the desert; but it has been dis- covered that on occasion his six-gun could speak as rapidly and much more accurately than his ton- gue. so marshal calkins waxed in favour. he set the household at ease upon his arrival by talk announcing that “they hadn’t nothin’ for him there.” all he wanted was a place to bunk in, some chow, and a feed for the horse. his trail led past the cumberland ranch many and many a dreary mile. the marshal was a politic man, and he had early in life discovered that the best way to get along with any man was to meet him on his own ground. his opening blast of words at doctor byrne was a sample of his art. “so you’re a doc, hey? well, sir, when i was a kid i had a colt that stuck its foreleg in a hole and busted it short and when that colt had to be shot they wasn’t no holdin’ me. no, sir, i could of cleaned up on the whole family. and ever since then i’ve had a hankerin’ to be a doc. some- thing about the idea of cuttin’ into a man that al- ways sort of tickled me. they’s only one main thing that holds me back—i don’t like the idea of knifin’ a feller when he aint got a chance to fight back! that’s me!” to this doctor randall byrne bowed, rather dazed, but returned no answer. “and how’s your patient, doc f” pursued the ir- resistible marshal. “how’s old joe cumberland? i remember when me and joe used to trot about the range together. i was sort of a kid then; but think of old joe bein’ down in bed—sick! why, i aint never been sick a day in my life. sick? i’d laugh myse’f plumb to death if anybody ever wanted me to go to bed. what’s the matter with him, any-- way?” the wild geese “his nerves are a bit shaken about,” responded the doctor. “to which i might add that there is superimposed an arterial condition—” “cut it short, doc,” cried the marshal goodnatur- edly. “i ain’t got a dictionary handy. nerves bad, eh? well, i don’t wonder about that. the old man’s had enough trouble lately to make anybody nervous. i wouldn’t like to go through it myself. no, sir! what with that dan barry—i ain’t step- pin’ on any corns, kate, am i?” she smiled vaguely, but the marshal accepted the smile as a strong dissent. “they was a time not so long ago when folks said that you was kind of sweet on dan. glad to hear they ain’t nothin’ in it. ’ a matter of fact but here kate interrupted with a raised hand. she said: “i think that was the supper gong. yes, there it is. we’ll go in now, if you wish." “they’s only one sound in the world that’s better to me than a dinner gong,” said the profuse mar- shal, as they seated themselves around the big din- ing table, “and that was the sound of my wife’s voice when she said ‘i will.’ queer thing, too. maria ain’t got a very soft voice, most generally ’speakin’, but when she busted up in front of that preacher and says ‘i will,’ why, god a’mighty— askin’ your pardon, kate—they was a change come in her voice that was like a bell chimin’ down in her throat—a bell ringin’ away off far, you know, so’s talk ' you only kind of guess at it! but comin’ back to you and dan, kate ” it was in vain she plied the marshal with edibles. his tongue wagged upon roller-bearings and knew no stopping. moreover, the marshal had spent some portion of his life in a boarding house and‘ had mastered the boarding—house art of talking while he ate. “comin’ back to you and dan, we was all of us sayin’ that you and dan kind of had an eye for each other. i s’pose we was all wrong. you see, that was back in the days before dan busted loose. when he was about the range most usually he was the quietest man i ever sat opposite to barrin’ one—and that was a feller that went west with a burn heart at the chuck table! ha, ha, ha !" the marshal’s laughter boomed through the big room as he recalled this delightful anecdote. he went on: “but after that jim silent play we all changed our minds, some. d’you know, doc, i was in elkhead the night that dan got our lee haines p” “i’ve never heard of the episode,” murmured the doctor. ' “you ain’t? well, i be damned l—askin’ your pardon, kate but you sure ain’t lived in these parts long! which you wouldn’t think one man could ride into a whole town, go to the jail, knock out two guards that was proved men, take the keys, unlock the irons off’n the man he wanted, saddle a hoss, and ride through a whole town—full of folks the wild geese 'that was shootin’ at him. now, would you think that was possible p” “certainly not.” “and it ain’t possible, i’m here to state. but they was something different about dan barry. d’you ever notice it, kate p” she was far past speech. “no, i guess you never would have noticed it. you was livin’ too close to him all the time to see how different he was from other fellers. any- way, he done it. they say he got plugged while he was ridin’ through the lines and he bled all the way home, and he got there unconscious. is that right, kate p” he waited an instant and then accepted the si- lence as an affirmative. “funny thing about that, too. the place where he come to was buck daniels’ house. well, buck was one of jim silent’s men, and they say buck had tried to plug dan before that. but dan let him go that time, and when buck seen dan ride in all covered with blood he remembered that favour and he kept dan safe from jim silent and safe from the law until dan was well. i seen buck this morning over to rafferty’s place, and—” here the marshal noted a singular look in the eyes of kate cumberland, a look so singular that he turned in his chair to follow it. he saw dan barry in the act of closing the door behind him, and marshal calkins turned a deep and violent red, varied instantly by a blotchy yellow which in turn talk faded to something as near white as his tan per- mitted. “dan barry!” gasped the marshal, rising, and he reached automatically towards his hip before he remembered that he had laid his belt and guns aside before he entered the dining-room, as etiquette is in the mountain-desert. for it is held that shooting at the table disturbs the appetite. “good evenin’,” said dan quietly. “was it buck daniels that you seen at rafferty’s place, marshal calkins p” “him,” nodded the marshal, hoarsely. “yep, buck daniels.” and then he sank into his chair, silent for the first time. his eyes followed barry as though hypnotized. “i’m kind of glad to know where i can find him,” said barry, and took his place at the table. the silence continued for a while, with all eyes focused on the new-comer. it was the doctor who had to speak first. “you’ve talked things over with mr. cumber- land?” he asked. “we had a long talk,” nodded dan. “you was wrong about him, doc. he thinks he can do with- out me.” “what?” cried kate. “he thinks he can do without me,” said dan barry. “we talked it all over.” the silence fell again. kate cumberland was staring blankly down at her plate, seeing nothing; the wild geese i and doctor byrne looked straight before him and, felt the pulse drumming in his throat. his chance, then, was to come by this time the marshal had recovered his breath. he said to dan: “seems like you been away some time, dan. where you been hangin’ out?” “i been ridin’ about,” answered dan vaguely. “well,” chuckled the marshal, “i’m glad they ain’t no more jim silents about these parts—mot while you’re here and while i’m here. you kept things kind of busy for glasgow, dan.” he turned to kate, who had pushed back her chair. “what’s the matter, kate?” he boomed. “you ain’t lookin’ any too tip-top. sick?” “i may be back in a moment,” said the girl, “but don’t delay supper for me.” she went out of the room with a step poised well enough, but the moment the door closed be- hind her she fairly staggered to the nearest chair and sank into it, her head fallen back, her eyes dim, and all the strength gone from her body and her will. several minutes passed before she roused herself, and then it was to drag herself slowly up the stairs to the door of her father’s room. she opened it without knocking, and then closed it and stood with her back against it, in the shadow. chapter xxx the voice of black bart her father lay propped high with pillows among which his head lolled back. the only light in the room was near the bed and it cast a glow upon the face of joe cumberland and on the white linen, the white hair, the white, pointed beard. all the rest of the room swam in darkness. the chairs were blotches, indistinct, uncertain; even the foot of the bed trailed off to nothingness. it was like one of those impressionistic, very modern paintings, where the artist centres upon one point and throws the rest of his canvas into dull oblivion. the focus here was the face of the old cattleman. the bed- clothes, never stirred, lay in folds sharply cut out with black shadows, and they had a solid seeming, as the mort-cloth rendered in marble over the effigy. that suggested weight exaggerated the frailty of the body beneath the clothes. exhausted by that bur- den, the old man lay in the arms of a deadly languor, so that there was a kinship of more than blood be- tween him and kate at this moment. she stepped to the side of the bed and stood staring down at him, and there was little gentleness in her ex- pression. the wild geese so cold was that settled gaze that her father stirred, at length, shivered, and without opening his eyes, fumbled at the bed-spread and drew it a little more closely about his shoulders. even that did not give him rest; and presently the wrlnkied eyelids opened and he looked up at his daughter. a film of weariness heavier than sleep at first obscured his sight, but this in turn cleared away; he frowned a little to clear his vision, and then wagged his head slowly from side to side. “kate,” he said feebly, “i done my best. it simply wasn’t good enough.” she answered in a voice as low as his, but stead- ier: “what could have happened? dad, what happened to make you give up every hold on dan? what was it? you were the last power that could keep him here. you knew it. why did you tell him he could go?” the monotone was more deadly than any em- phasis of a raised word. “if you’d been here,” pleaded joe cumberland, “you’d have done what i done. i couldn’t help it. there he sat on the foot of the bed—see where them covers still kind of sag down—after he told me that he had something to do away from the ranch and that he wanted to go now that black bart was well enough to travel in short spells. he asked me if i still needed him.” “and you told him no p” she cried. “oh dad, you know it means everything to me—but you told him no p” the voice of black bart he raised a shaking hand to ward off the out- burst and stop it. “not at first, honey. gimme a chance to talk, kate. at first i told him that i needed him—and god knows that i do need him. i dunno why—— not even doc byrne knows what there is about dan that helps me. i told dan all them things. and he didn’t say nothin’, but jest sat still on the foot of the bed and looked at me. “it ain’t easy to bear his eyes, kate. i lay here and tried at first to smile at him and talk about other things—but it ain’t easy to bear his eyes. you take a dog, kate. it ain’t supposed to be able to look you in the eye for long; but s’pose you met up with a dog that could. it’d make you feel sort of queer inside. which i felt that way while dan was lookin’ at me. not that he was threatenin’ me. no, it wasn’t that. he was only thoughtful, but i kept gettin’ more nervous and more fidgety. i felt after a while like i couldn’t stand it. i had to crawl out of bed and begin walkin’ up and down till i got quieter. but i seen that wouldn’t do. “then i begun to think. i thought of near every- thing in a little while. i thought of what would happen s’pose dan should stay here. maybe you and him would get to like each other again. maybe you’d get married. then what would happen? “i thought of the wild geese flyin’ north in the spring ’ the year and the wild geese flyin’ south in the fall ’ the year. and i thought of dan with his heart followin’ the wild geese—god knows why !—— the wild geese and i seen a picture of him standin’ and watchin' them, with you nearby and not able to get one look out of him. i seen that, and it made my blood chilly, like the air on a frosty night. “kate, they’s something like the power of proph- ecy that comes to a dyin’ man l” “dad!” she cried. “what are you saying?” she slipped to her knees beside the bed and drew his cold hands towards her, but joe cumberland shook his head and mildly drew one hand away. he raised it, with extended forefinger—a. sign of infinite warning; and with the glow of the lamp full upon his face, the eyes were pits of shadow with stirring orbs of fire in the depths. “no, i ain’t dead now,” he said, “but i ain’t far away from it. maybe days, maybe weeks, maybe whole months. but i’ve passed the top of the hill, and i know i’m ridin’ down the slope. pretty soon i’ll finish the trail. but what little time i’ve got left is worth more’n everything that went before. i can see my life behind me and the things before like a cold mornin’ light was over it all—you know before the sun begins to beat up the waves of heat and the mist gets tanglin’ in front of your eyes? you know when you can look right across a thirty mile valley and name the trees, a’most the other side? that’s the way i can see now. they ain’t no feelin’ about it. my body is all plumb paralyzed. i jest see and know—that’s all. “and what i see of you and dan—if you ever marry—is plain—hell! love aint the only thing the wild geese i know dan’s face. i can read it as the sailor reads the sea. before to-morrow night buck daniels will be dead; and dan’s hands will be red.” she dropped her head against the bed-clothes and clasped her fingers over the bright hair. when she could speak again she raised her head and went on in the same swift, low monotone: “and besides, black bart has found the trail of the man who fired the barn and shot him. and the body of buck won’t be cold before dan will be on the heels of the other man. oh, dad, two lives lay in the hollow of your hand. you could have saved them by merely asking dan to stay with you; but you’ve thrown them away.” “buck daniels!” repeated the old man, the horror of the thing dawning on him only slowly. “why didn’t he get farther away? why didn’t he ride night and day after he left us? he’s got to be warned that dan is coming!” “i’ve thought of that. i’m going into my room now to write a note and send it to buck by one of our men. but at the most he’ll have less than a day’s start—and what is a day to satan and dan barry?” “i thought it was for the best,” muttered old joe. “i couldn’t see how it was wrong. but i can send for dan and tell him that i’ve changed my mind.” he broke off in a groan. “no, that wouldn’t be no good. he’s set his mind on going by this time, and nothing can keep him back. but the voice of black bart —-kate, maybe i can delay him. has he gone up to his room yet?” “he’s in there now. talk softly or he’ll hear us. he’s walking up and down, now.” “ay, ay, ay!” nodded old joe, his eyes widening with horror,” and his footfall is like the padding of a big cat. i could tell it out of a thousand steps. and i know what's going on inside his mind ” “yes, yes; he’s thinking of the blow buck daniels struck him; he’s thinking of the man who shot down bart. god save them both!” “listen!” whispered the cattleman. “he’s raised the window. i heard the rattle of the weights. he’s standing there in front of the window, letting the wind of the night blow in his face!” the wind from the window, indeed, struck against the door communicating with joe cumber- land’s room, and shook it as if a hand were rat- tling at the knob. the girl began to speak again, as swiftly as be- fore, her voice the barely audible rushing of a whisper: “the law will trail him, but i won’t give him up. dad, i’m going to fight once more to keep him here—and if i fail, i’ll follow him around the world.” such words should have come loudly, ring- ing. spoken so softly, they gave a terrible effect; like the ravings of delirium, or the monotone of insanity. and with the white light against her face she was more awe-inspiring than beautiful. “he loved me once; and the fire must still be in him; such fire can’t go out, and i’ll fan it back to the wild geese life, and then if it burns me—if it burns us both- the fire itself cannot be more torture than to live on like this!” “hush, lass!” murmured her father. “listen to what’s coming!” it was a moan, very low pitched, and then rising slowly, and gaining in volume, rising up the scale" with a dizzy speed, till it burst and rang through the house—the long-drawn wail of a wolf when it hunts on a fresh trail. . the wild geese ger. now that he was discovered it seemed in- credible that he could have followed so patently foolish a course. in a sort of daze he uncrumpled the note again and read the wrinkled writing word by word. he had leaned close to read by the un- certain light, and now he caught the faintest breath of perfume from the paper. it was a small thing, smaller among scents than a whisper is among voices, but it made buck daniels drop his head and crush the paper against his face. it was a mo- ment before he could uncrumple the paper suffi- ciently to study the contents of the note thoroughly. at first his dazed brain caught only part of the sig- nificance. then it dawned on him that the girl thought he had fled from the cumberland ranch through fear of dan barry. ay, there had been fear in it. every day at the ranch he had shuddered at the thought that the destroyer might ride up on that devil of black silken grace, satan. but every day he had convinced him- self that even then dan barry remembered the past and was cursing himself for the ingratitude he had shown his old friend. now the truth swept coldly home to buck daniels. barry was as fierce as ever upon the trail; and kate cumberland thought that he—buck daniels,—had fled like a cur from danger. he seized his head between his hands and beat his knuckles against the corrugated flesh of his forehead. she had thought that! desire for action, action, action, beset him like the wild geese grey of the morning, soundless as a racing ghost. long bess—there was good blood in her. she was as delicately limbed as an antelope, and her heart was as strong as the smooth muscles of her shoulders and hips. yet to buck daniels her fastest gait seemed slower than a walk. already his thoughts were flying far before. already he stood before the ranch house calling to dan barry. ay, at the very door of the place they should meet and one of them must die. and better by far that the blood of him who died should stain the hands of kate cumberland. chapter xxxii victory the grey light which buck daniels saw that morning, hardly brightened as the day grew, for the sky was overcast with sheeted mist and through it a dull evening radiance filtered to the earth. wung lu, his celestial, slant eyes now yellow with cold, built a fire on the big hearth in the living- room. it was a roaring blaze, for the wood was so dry that it flamed as though soaked in oil, and tumbled a mass of yellow fire up the chimney. bright was the fire, indeed, that its light quite over- shadowed the meagre day which looked in at the window, and every chair cast its shadow away from the hearth. later on kate cumberland came down the backstairs and slipped into the kitchen. “have you seen dan?” she asked of the cook. “wung lu make nice fire,” grinned the china- man. "'misser dan in there.” she thought for an instant. “is breakfast ready, wung ?” “pretty soon quick,” nodded wung lu. “then throw out the coffee or the eggs,” she said quickly. “i don’t want breakfast served yet; wait till i send you word.” the wild geese as the door closed behind her, the eye-brows of wung rose into perfect roman arches. “ho!” grunted wung lu, “o ho!” in the hall kate met randall byrne coming down the stairs. he was dressed in white and he had found a little yellow wildflower and stuck it in his button-hole. he seemed ten years younger than the day he rode with her to the ranch, and now he came to her with a quick step, smiling. “doctor byrne,” she said quietly, “breakfast will be late this morning. also, i want no one to go into the living-room for a while. will you keep them out?” the doctor was instantly gone. “he hasn’t gone, yet?” he queried. “not yet.” the doctor sighed and then, apparently follow- ing a sudden impulse, he reached his hand to her. “i hope something comes of it,” he said. even then she could not help a wan smile. “what do you mean by that, doctor?” the doctor sighed again. “if the inference is not clear,” he said, “i’m afraid that i cannot explain. but i’ll try to keep everyone from the room.” she nodded her thanks, and went on; but pass- ing the mirror in the hall the sight of her face made her stop abruptly. there was no vestige of colour in it; and the shadow beneath her eyes made them seem inhumanly large and deep. the bright hair, to be sure, waved over her head and coiled on victory her neck, but it was like a. futile shaft of sunlight falling on a dreary moor in winter. she went on thoughtfully to the door of the living-room but there she paused again with her hand upon the knob; and while she stood there she remembered herself as she had been only a few months before, with the colour flushing in her face and a continual light in her eyes. there had been little need for thinking then. one had only to let the wind and the sun strike on one, and live. then, in a quiet de- spair, she said to herself: “as i am—i must win or lose—as i am !” and she opened the door and stepped in. she had been cold with fear and excitement when she entered the room to make her last stand for happiness, but once she was in, it was not so hard. dan barry lay on the couch at the far end of the room with his hands thrown under his head, and he was smiling in a way which she well knew; it, had been a danger signal in the old days, and when he turned his face and said good-morning to her, she caught that singular glimmer of yellow which sometimes came up behind his eyes. in reply to his greeting she merely nodded, and then walked slowly to the window and turned her back to him. it was a one-tone landscape. sky, hills, barns, earth, all was a single mass of lifeless grey; in such an atmosphere old homer had seen the wraiths of his dead heroes play again at the things they had done on earth. she noted these things with a blank eye, for a thousand thoughts were leaping through victory ' shudder. silence, to dan barry, had a louder voice and more meaning than any words. then she knew that he was sitting up on the couch. was he about to stand up and walk out of the room? for moment after moment he did not stir; and at length she knew, with a breathless cer— tainty, that he was staring fixedly at her! the hand which was farthest from him, and hidden, she gripped hard upon the arm of the chair. that was some comfort, some added strength. she had now the same emotion she had had when black bart slunk towards her under the tree—- if a single perceptible tremor shook her, if she showed the slightest awareness of the subtle ap- proach, she was undone. it was only her apparent unconsciousness which could draw either the wolf- dog or the master. she remembered what her father had told her of hunting young deer—how he had lain in the grass and thrust up a leg above the grass in sight of the deer and how they would first run away but finally come back step by step, drawn by an invinci- ble curiosity, until at length they were within range for a point blank shot. now she must concentrate on the flames of the fireplace, see nothing but them, think of nothing but the swiftly changing domes and walls and pin- nacles they made. she leaned a little forward and rested her cheek upon her right hand—and thereby she shut out the sight of dan barry effectually. also it made a brace to keep her from turning her the wild geese head towards him, and she needed every support, physical and mental. still he did not move. was he in truth looking at her, or was he staring beyond her at the grey sky which lowered past the window? the faintest creaking sound told her that he had risen, slowly, from the crouch. then not a sound, except that she knew, in some mysterious manner, that he moved, but whether towards her or towards the door she could not dream. but he stepped suddenly and noiselessly into the range of her vision and sat down on a low bench at one side of the hearth. if the strain had been tense before, it now became terrible; for there he sat almost facing her, and looking intently at her, yet she must keep all aware- ness of him out of her eyes. in the excitement a strongpulse began to beat in the hollow of her throat, as if her heart were rising. she had won, she had kept him in the room, she had brought him to a keen thought of her. a pyrrhic victory, for she was poised on the very edge of a cliff of hysteria. she began to feel a tremor f the hand which supported her cheek. if that should become visible to him he would instantly know that all her apparent unconsciousness was a sham, and then she would have lost him truly! something sounded at one of the doors—and then the door opened softly. she was almost glad of the interruption, for another instant might have swept away the last reserve of her strength. so this, then, was the end. victory but the footfall which sounded in the apart- ment was a soft, padding step, with a little scratch- ing sound, light as a finger running on a frosty window pane. and then a long, shaggy head slip- ped close to whistling dan. it was black bart! a wave of terror swept through her. she re- membered another scene, not many months before, when black bart had drawn his master away from her and led him south, south, after the wild geese. the wolf-dog had come again like a demoniac spirit to undo her plans! only an instant—the crisis of a battle—-then the great beast turned slowly, faced her, slunk with his long stride closer, and then a. cold nose touched the hand which gripped the arm of her chair. it gave her a welcome excuse for action of some sort; she reached out her hand, slowly, and touched the forehead of black bart. he winced back, and the long fangs flashed; her hand remained tremulously poised in air, and then the long head approached again, cautiously, and once more she touched it, and since it did not stir, she trailed the tips of her fingers backwards towards the ears. black bart snarled again, but it was a sound so subdued as to be almost like the purring of a great cat. he sank down, and the weight of his head came upon her feet. victory! in the full tide of conscious power she was able to drop her hand from her face, raise her head, turn her glance carelessly upon dan barry; she was met victory g back a chair and sat down with a grunt of expect-. ancy. “mornin’, dan,” he said, whetting his knife across the table-cloth, “i hear you’re ridin’ this momin’? ain’t going my way, are you p" dan barry sat frowning steadily down at the table. it was a moment before he answered. “i ain’t leavin,” he said softly, at length. “post-t poned my trip." chapter xxxiii doctor byrne snows the truth on this day of low-lying mists, this oay so dull that not a shadow was cast by tree or house or man, there was no graver place than the room of old joe cumberland; even lamp light was more merciful in the room, for it left the corners of the big apartment in obscurity, but this meagre day- light stripped away all illusion and left the room naked and ugly. those colours of wall and carpet, once brighter than spring, showed now as faded and lifeless as foliage in the dead days of late novem- ber when the leaves have no life except what keeps them clinging to the twig, and when their fallen fellows are lifted and rustled on the ground by every faint wind, with a sound like breathing in the forest. and like autumn, too, was the face of joe cumberland, with a colour neither flushed nor pale, but a dull sallow which foretells death. be- side his bed sat doctor randall byrne and kept the pressure of two fingers upon the wrist of the rancher. when he removed the thermometer from between the lips of cumberland the old man spoke, but the wild geese affects the individual; yet these gradual changes are extremely slow. between steps of noticeable change there elapse periods many times longer than the life of historic man. all speed in changes such as these comes in what we call ‘sports’. that is, a particular plant, for instance, gradually tends to have fewer leaves and a thicker bark, but the change is slight from age to age until 'suddenly a single instance occurs of plant which realises suddenly in a single step the ‘ideal’ towards which the species has been striving. in a word, it has very, very few leaves, and an extraordinarily thick bark. “for a particular instance, one species of orange tended to have few and fewer seeds. but finally came an orange tree whose fruit had no seeds at all. that was the origin of the navel orange. and' that was a typical ‘sport’. ' “now, there is the reverse of the sport. instead of jumping long distance ahead, an individual may lapse back towards the primitive. that individual is called an atavism. for instance, in this moun- tain-desert there has, for several generations, been a pressure of environment calling for a species of man which will be able to live with comparative comfort in a waste region—a man, in a word, equipped with such powerful organisms that he will be as much at home in the heart of the desert as an ordinary man would be in a drawing-room. you gather the drift of my argument. “i have observed this man barry carefully. i am thoroughly convinced that he is such an atavism. the wild geese berland, and an age old instinct is now working out in dan barry. but while you and kate may please him, you are not necessary to him. he left you once before and he was quite happy in his des- ert. and i tell you, mr. cumberland, that he will leave you again. you cannot tame the untameable. it is not habit that rules this man. it is instinct a million years old. the call which he will hear is the call of the wilderness, and to answer it he will leave father and wife and children and ride out with his horse and his dog!” the old man lay quite motionless, staring at the ceiling. “i don’t want to believe you,” he said slowly, “but before god i think you’re right. oh, lad, why was i bound up in a tangle like this one? and kate—— what will she do?” the doctor was quivering with excitement. “let the man stay with her. in time she will come to see the brute nature of daniel barry. that will be the end of him with her.” “brute. doc. they ain’t nobody as gentle as dan!” “till he tastes blood, a lion can be raised like a house-dog,” answered the doctor. “then she mustn’t marry him? ay, i’ve felt it —jest what you’ve put in words. it’s livin’ death for kate if she marries him! she’s kept him here to-day. to-morrow something may cross him, and the minute he feels the pull of it, he’ll be off on the tz'ail-—the blow of a man, the hollering out of the doctor byrne shows the truth wild geese~—g d knows what it’ll take to start him wild again and forget us all—jest the way a child forgets its parents!” a voice broke in upon them, calling far away: “dan! dan barry!” chapter xxxiv the acid test in the living-room below they heard it, dan and kate cumberland. all day she had sat by the fire which still blazed on the hearth, replenished from time to time by the care of wung lu. she had taken up some sewing, and she worked at it steadily. some of that time dan barry was in the room, sit- ting through long intervals, watching her with lynx- eyed attention. very rarely did he speak—almost never, and she could have numbered upon her two hands the words he had spoken—ay, and she could have repeated them one by one. now and again he rose and went out, and the wolf-dog went with him each time. but towards the last black bart preferred to stay in the room, crouched in front of her and blinking at the fire, as if he knew that each time his master would return to the fire. then, why leave the pleasant warmth for the chilly grey- ness of the day outside? there he remained, stirring only now and then to lift a clumsy paw and brush it across his eyes in an oddly human gesture. once or twice, also, he lifted that great, scarred head and laid it on her knees, looking curiously from her busy hands to the wild geese a bold mountain tumbled up to an infinite height, bristling with misshapen trees here and there, and losing its head against the very stars. on the other side were jagged hills, all carved in the solid rock. and down the valley, between the mountains and the stars, blew a soft wind; as if that wind made the music. they were climbing up, up, up, and now they reach—the music rising also to a soft but triumphant outburst—a high plateau. they were pressed up against the heart of the sky. the stars burned low, and low. around them the whole earth seemed in prospect at their feet. the moon burst ~through a mass of clouds, and she saw, far off, a great river running silver through the night. happy? ay, and he was happy too, and his happiness was one with hers. he was not even looking out the window while he whistled, but his eyes were fixed steadily, unchangingly, upon her face. it was then that they heard it: "dan! dan barry! come out!” a hoarse, ringing cry, as of one who is shouting against a great wind: “dan! dan barry! come out ” dan barry was on his feet and gliding to the wall, where he took down his belt from a nail and buckled it swiftly around him. and kate ran to the window with the wolf-dog snarling beside her and saw standing in front of the house, his hat off, his black hair wildly tumbled, and two guns in his hands, buck daniels! behind him the tall bay mare the wild geese her whole thought was, selfishly, for the man be- .fore her, and for herself. he was there—his hand was upon the knob of the door. and then she remembered how the teeth of black bart had closed over her arm—and how they had not broken even the skin. in an instant she was pressed against the door before dan barry —her arms outstretched. he fell back the slightest bit before her, and then he came again and brushed her slowly, gently, to one side, with an irresistible strength. she had to meet his eyes now—there was no help for it—and she saw there that swirl of yellow light—that insatiable hunger. and she knew, fully and bitterly, that she had failed. with the wolf-dog, indeed, she had con- quered, but the man escaped her. if time had been granted her she would have won, she knew, but the hand of buck daniels, so long her ally, had de- stroyed her chances. it was his hand now which shook the knob of the door, and she turned with a sob of despair to face the new danger. in her wildest dreams she had never visioned buck daniels transformed like this. she knew that in his past, as one of those long-riders who roam the mountain-desert, their hand against the hands of every man, buck daniels had been known and feared by the strongest. but all she had seen of buck daniels had been gentleness itself. yet what faced her as the door flew wide was a nightmare thing with haggard face and shadow-buried, glitter- ing eyes—unshaven, unkempt of hair, his shirt open the acid test at the throat, his great hands clenched for the battle. the wolf-dog, at that familiar sight, whined a low greeting, but with a glance at his master knew that there was a change—the old alliance was broken— so he bared his white teeth and changed his whine to a snarl of hate. then a strange terror struck kate cumberland. she had never dreamed that she could fear for dan barry at the hands of any man, but now the desper- ate resolve which breathed from every line of buck daniels, chilled her blood at the heart. she sprang back before dan barry. facing him, she saw that demoniac glitter of yellow rising momently brighter in his eyes, and he was smiling. no execration or loud voiced curse could have contained the distilled malignancy of that smile. all this she caught in a single glimpse. the next instant she had whirled and stood before dan, shielding him with outspread arms and facing buck daniels. the latter thrust back into the holster the gun which he had drawn when he entered the room. “stand away from him, kate,” he commanded, and his eyes went past her to dwell on the face of barry. “stand away from him. it’s been comin’ for a long time, and now it’s here. barry i’m takin’ no start on you. stand away from the girl and pull your gun—and i’ll pump you full of lead.” the softest of soft voices murmured behind her: “i been waitin’ for you, buck, days and days and days. i ain’t never been so glad to see anybody!” and she felt barry slip shadowlike to one side. the wild geese she sprang in front of him again with a wild cry. “buck!” she begged, “don’t shoot !” laughter, ringing and unhuman, filled the throat of buck daniels. “is it him you’re beggin’ for?” he sneered at her. “is it him you got your fears for? ain’t you got a word of pity for poor buck daniels that sneaked off like a whipped puppy? bah! dan barry, the time is come. i been leadin’ the life of a houn’ dog for your sake. but it’s ended. pull your gun and get out from behind the skirts of that girl!” as long as they faced each other with the chal- lenge in their eyes, nothing on earth could avert the fight, she knew, but if she could delay them for one moment—she felt that swift moving form behind her slipping away from behind her—she could fol- low barry’s movements by the light in daniels’ eyes. “buck!” she cried, “for god’s sake—for my sake turn away from him—and—roll another cigarette!” for she remembered the story—how daniels had turned under the very nose of danger and done this insane thing in the saloon at brownsville and in her despair she could think of no other appeal. it was the very strangeness of it that gave it point. buck daniels turned on his heel. “it’s the last kindness i do you, dan,” he said, with his broad back to them. “but before you die you got to know why i’m killin’ you. i’m going to roll one cigarette and smoke it and while i smoke it i’m goin’ to tell you the concentrated truth about your worthless self and when i’m done smokin’ i’m the acid test goin’ to turn around and drop you where you stand. d’ye hear?” “they’s no need of waitin’,” answered the soft voice of barry. “talkin’ don’t mean much.” but kate cumberland turned and faced him. he was fairly a-quiver with eagerness and the hate welled and blazed and flickered in his eyes; his face was pale—very pale—and it seemed to her that she could make out in the pallor the print of the fingers of buck daniels and that blow those many days before. and she feared him as she had never feared him before—yet she blocked his way still with the outspread arms. they could hear the crinkle of the cigarette paper as buck rolled his smoke. “no,” said buck, his voice suddenly altered to an almost casual moderation, “talk don’t mean nothin’ to you. talk is human, and nothin’ human means nothin’ to you. but i got to tell you why you ought to die, barry. “i started out this mornin’ hatin’ the ground you walked on, but now i see that they ain’t no use to hate you. is they any use hatin’ a\mountain-lion that kills calves? no, you don’t hate it, but you get a gun and trail it and shoot it down. and that’s the way with you.” they heard the scratch of his match. “that’s the way with you. i got my back to you right now because if i looked you in the eye i couldn’t let you live no more’n i could let a moun- tain-lion live. i know you’re faster with your gun . the wild geese than i am and stronger than i am, and made to fight. but i know i’m going to kill you. you’ve done your work—~you’ve left hell on all sides of you—it’s your time to die. i know it! you been lyin’ like a snake. in the rocks with your poison ready for any man that walks past you. now your poison is about used up.” he paused, and then when he spoke again there was a ring of exultation in his voice: “i tell you, dan, i don’t fear you, and i know that the bullet in this gun here on my hips is the one that’s goin’ to tear your heart out. i know it!” something like a sob came from the lips of dan barry. his hands moved out towards buck daniels as though he were plucking something from the empty air. “you’ve said enough,” he said. “you said plenty. now turn around and fight!” and, kate cumberland stepped back, out of line of the two. she knew that in what followed she could not play the part of the protector or the de- layer. here they stood, hungry for battle, and there was no power in her weak hands to separate them. she stood far back and fumbled with her hands at the wall for support. she tried to close her eyes, but the fascination of the horror forced her to watch against her strongest will. and the chief part of that dreadful suspense lay in the even, calm voice of buck daniels as he went on: “i’ll turn around and fight soon enough. but kate asked me to smoke another cigarette. i know what she means. she wants me to leave you the way i done in the saloon . the wild geese you fight like a huntin’ wolf. look at the brute that’s slinkin’ up to me there! that’s what you are. you kill for the sake of killin’-like the beasts. “if you was a man, could you treat me like you’ve done ? your damned cold heart and your yaller eyes and all would of burned up in the barn the other night—you and your wolf and your damned hoss. why didn’t i let you burn? because i was a fool. because i still thought they was something of the man in you. but i seen afterwards what you was, and i rode off to get out of your way—to keep your hands from gettin’ red with my blood. and then you plan on follerin’ me—damn you!— on follerin’ me! i “so that, dan, is why i’ve come to put you out of the world—as i’m goin’ to do now! once you hated to give pain, and if you hurt people it was because you couldn’t help it. but now you live on torturin’ others. barry, pull your gun!” and as he spoke, he whirled, the heavy revolver leaping into his hand. still kate cumberland could not close her eyes on the horror. she could not even cry out; she was frozen. but there was no report—no spurt of smoke—no form of a man stumbling blindly towards death. dan barry stood with one hand pressed over his eyes and the other dangled at his side, harmless, while he frowned in bewilderment at the floor. he said slowly, at length: “buck, i kind of think you’re right. they aint no use in me. i been re- the acid test memberin’, buck, how you sent kate to me when i was sick.” there was a loud clatter; the revolver dropped from the hand of buck daniels. the musical voice of dan barry murmured again: “and i remember how you stood up to jim silent, for my sake. buck, what’s come between us since them days? you hit me a while back, and since then i been wantin’ your blood—but hearin’ you talk now, somehow—i feel sort of lost and lone- some—~like i’d thrown somethin’ away that i valued most.” buck daniels threw out his great arms and his voice was broken terribly. “oh, god a’mighty, dan,” he cried, “jest take one step back to me and i’ll come all the way around the world to meet you !” he stumbled across the floor and grasped at the hand of barry, for a mist had half-blinded his eyes. “dan,” he pleaded, “ain’t things as they once was? d’you forgive me p” “why, buck,” murmured dan barry, in that same bewildered fashion, “seems like we was bunkies once.” “dan,” muttered buck daniels, choking, “dan—-—-” but he dared not trust his voice further, and turning, he fairly fled from the room. the dazed eyes of dan barry followed him. then they moved until they encountered the face of kate cumberland. a shock, as if of surprise, widened the wild geese the lids. for a long moment they stared in silence, and then he began to walk, very slowly, a step at a time, towards the girl. now, as he faced her, she saw that there was no longer a hint of the yellow in his eyes, but he stepped closer and closer; he was right before her, watching her with an expression of mute suffering that made her heart grow large. he said, more to himself than to her: “seems like i been away a long time.” “a very long time,” she whispered. he drew a great breath. “is it true, what buck said? about you?” “oh, my dear, my dear!” she cried. “don’t you see?” he started a little, and taking both her hands he made her face the dull light from the windows. “seems like you’re kind of pale, kate.” “the colour went while i waited for you, dan.” “but there comes a touch of red—like morning—- in your throat, and runnin’ up your cheeks.” “don’t you see? it’s because you’ve come back!” he closed his eyes and murmured: “i remember we was close—closer than this. we were sittin’ here—~in this room—by a fire. and then something called rne out and i follered it.” “the wild geese—yes.” “wild geese?” he repeated blankly, and then shook his head. “how could wild geese call me? but things happened. i was kept away. sometimes i wanted to come back to you, but somehow i could chapter xxxv pale annie even in elkhead there were fires this day. in the gilead saloon one might have thought that the liquid heat which the men imbibed would serve in place of stoves, but the proprietor, “pale annie,” had an eye to form, and when the sky was grey he always lighted the stove. “pale annie” he was called because his real name was anderson hawberry sandringham. that name had been a great aid to him when he was an under- taker in kansas city; but anderson hawberry sandringham had fallen from the straight and narrow path of good undertakers some years be- fore and he had sought refuge in the mountain-' desert, where most things prosper except sheriffs and grass. he was fully six inches more than six feet in height and his face was so long and pale that even haw-haw langley seemed cheerful beside the ex-undertaker. in kansas city this had been much prized, for that single face could lend solemnity to any funeral. in elkhead it was hardly less of an asset. people came out of curiosity to see pale annie behind the bar with his tall silk hat—which he could pale annie i i except for bending their elbows now and again, and since the majority of them had been in the place fully half the day, by ten in the evening sounds of hilarity began to rise from the saloon. solemn-faced men who had remained in their places for hour after hour, industriously putting away the red-eye, now showed symptoms of life. some of them discovered hitherto hidden talents as singers, and they would rise from their places, remove their hats, open their bearded mouths, and burst into song. an anti— quarian who had washed gold in ’ and done nothing the rest of his life save grow a prodigious set of pure white whiskers, sprang from his place and did a hoe-down that ravished the beholders. thrice he was compelled to return to the floor; and in the end his performance was only stopped by an attack of sciatica. two strong men carried him back to his chair and wept over him, and there was another drink all around. in this scene of universal joy there were two places of shadow. for at the rear end of the room, almost out of reach of the lantern-light, sat haw- haw langley and mac strann. the more haw- haw langley drank the more cadaverous grew his face, until in the end it was almost as solemn as that of pale annie himself; as for mac strann, he sel- dom drank at all. a full hour had just elapsed since either of them spoke, yet haw-haw langley said, as if in answer to a remark: “he’s heard too much about you, mac. he ain’t no such fool as to come to elkhead.” pale annie with water. they’s a tub over there in the corner with a dipper handy. don’t mention it.” “i didn’t thank you,” said haw-haw langley furiously. “damn a tight-wad, say i!” the long hand of pale annie curled affectionately around the neck of an empty bottle. “i didn’t quite gather what you said?” he re- marked courteously, and leaned across the bar-— within striking distance. “i’ll tell you later,” remarked haw-haw sullenly, and turned his shoulder to the bar. as he did so two comparatively recent arrivals came up beside him. they were fresh from a couple of months of range-finding, and they had been quenching a concentrated thirst by concentrated effort. haw-haw langley looked them over, sighed with relief, and then instantly produced durham and the brown papers. he paused in the midst of rol— ling his cigarette and offered them to the nearest fel- low. “smoke?” he asked. now a man of the mountaln-desert knows a great many things, but he does not know how to refuse. the proffer of a gift embarrasses him, but he knows no way of avoiding it; also he never rests easy until he has made some return. “sure,” said the man, and gathered in the tobacco and papers. “thanks!” he covertly dropped the cigarette which he had just lighted, and stepped on it, then he rolled the wild geese “you’re right,” he announced calmly. “anybody could see with half an eye that you ain’t a fool. it’s took by me!” and he grinned impudently in the face of mac strann. the latter, who had been sitting with slightly bent head, now raised it and looked the pair over carelessly; there was in his eye the same dumb curiosity which haw-haw langley had seen many a time in the eye of a bull, leader of the herd. the giant explained carefully: “i mean, they’s a friend of mine that’s been sittin’ in that chair.” “if i ain’t your friend,” answered the black-haired brother instantly, “it ain’t any fault of mine. lay it up to yourself, partner!” mac strann stretched out his hand on the surface of the table. he said: “i got an idea you better get out of that chair.” the other turned his head slowly on all sides and then looked mac strann full in the face. “maybe they’s something wrong with my eyes,” he said, “but i don’t see no reason.” the little dialogue had lasted long enough to focus all eyes on the table at the end of the room, and therefore there were many witnesses to what fol- lowed. the arm of mac strann shot out; his hand fastened in the collar of the black-haired man’s shirt, and the latter was raised from his seat and propelled to one side by a convulsive jerk. he probably would have been sent crashing into the bar had not his shirt failed under the strain. it ripped in two at pale annie the shoulders, and the seeker after action, naked to the waist, went reeling back to the middle of the room, before he gained his balance. after him went mac strann with an agility astonishing in that squat, formless bulk. his long arms were outstretched and his fingers tensed, and in his face there was an uncanny joy; his lip had lifted in that peculiarly dis- heartening sneer. he was not a pace from him of the black hair when a yell of rage behind him and the other brother leaped through the air and landed on mac strann’s back. he doubled up, slipped his arms behind him, and the next instant, without visible reason, the red- headed man hurtled through the air and smashed against the bar with a jolt that set the glassware shivering and singing. then he relaxed on the floor, a twisted and foolish looking mass. as for the seeker after action, he had at first reached after his revolver, but he changed his mind at the last instant and instead picked up the great poker which leaned against the stove. it was a pon- derous weapon and he had to wield it in both hands. as he swung it around his head there was a yell from men ducking out of the way, and pale annie curled his hand again around his favorite empty bottle. he had no good opportunity to demonstrate its efficiency, however. mac strann, crouching in the position from which he had catapulted the red- haired man, cast upwards a single glance at the other brother, and then he sprang in. the poker hissed through the air with the vigour of a strong man’s the wild geese arms behind it and it would have cracked the head of mac strann like an empty egg-shell if it had hit its mark. but it was heaved too high, and mac strann went in like a football player rushing the line, almost doubled up against the floor as he ran. his shoulders struck the other hardly higher than the knees, and they went down together, but so doing the head of mac strann’s victim cracked against the floor, and he also was still. the exploit was greeted by a yell of applause and then someone proposed a cheer, and it was given. it died off short on the lips of the applauders, how- ever, for it was seen that mac strann was not yet done with his work, and he went about it in a manner which made men sober suddenly and ex- change glances. first the stranger dragged the two brothers to- gether, laying one of them face down on the floor. the second he placed over the first, back to back. next he picked up the long poker from the floor and slipped it under the head and down to the neck of the first man. the bystanders watched in utter silence, with a touch of horror coming now in their eyes. now mac strann caught the ends of the iron and began to twist up on them. there was no result at first. he refreshed his hold and tried again. the sleeves of his shirt were seen to swell and then grow hard and taut with vast play of muscle beneath. his head bowed lower between his shoulders, and those shoulders trembled, and the muscles over them pale annie quivered like heat-waves rising of a spring morning. there was a creaking, now, and then the iron was seen to shiver and then bend, slowly, and once it was wrenched out of the horizontal, the motion was more and more rapid. until, when the giant was done with his labor, the ends of the iron over-lapped around the necks of the two luckless brothers. mac strann stepped back and surveyed his work; the rest of the room was in silence, saving that the red- headed man was coming back to consciousness and now writhed and groaned feebly. he could not rise; that was manifest, for the thick band of iron tied his neck to the neck of his brother. upon this scene mac strann gazed with a thoughtful air and then stepped to the side of the room where stood a bucket of dirty water, recently used for mopping behind the bar. this he caught up, returned, and dashed the black, greasy water over the pair. if it had been electricity it could not have op- erated more effectively. the two awoke with one mind, and with a tremendous spluttering and cursing struggled to regain their feet. it was no easy thing, however, for when one stood up the other slipped and in his fall involved the brother. in the mean- time it made a jest exactly suited to the mind of elk- head, and shrieks of hysterical laughter rewarded their struggles. until at length they sat solemnly, back to back, easing the pressure of the iron as best they might with their hands. assembled elkhead reeled about the room, drunken with laughter. but the wild geese mac strann went quietly back to his table and paid no attention to the scene. there is an end to all good things, however, and finally the two brothers concerted action together, rose, and then side-stepped towards the door, drip- ping the mop-water at every step. obviously they were bound for the blacksmith’s to lose their collar; and everyone in the saloon knew that the blacksmith was not in town. the old man who had done the hoe-down hobbled to the end of the barroom and before the table of mac strann made a speech to the effect that elk- head had everything it needed except laughter, that mac strann had come to their assistance in that respect, and that if he, the old man, had the power, he would pension such an efficient jester and keep him permanently in the town. to all of this mac strann paid not the slightest heed, but with his fleshy brow puckered considered the infinite distance. even the drink which pale annie, grateful for the averted riot, placed on the table before him, mac strann allowed to stand untasted. and it was pri- vate stock! it was at this time that haw-haw langley made his way back to the table and occupied the con- tested seat. “that was a bum play,” he said solemnly to mac strann. “when barry hears about what you done here to two men, d’you think that he’ll ever hit your trail?” the other started. pale annie “i never thought about it,” he murmured, his thick lips, as always, framing speech with difficulty. “d’you s’pose i’d ought to go back to the cumber- land place for him ?” a yell rose at the farther end of the room. “a wolf! hey! shoot the damn wolf!” “you fool!” cried another. “he ain’t skinny enough to be a wolf. besides, whoever heard of a tame wolf comin’ into a barroom?” nevertheless many a gun was held in readiness, and the men, even the most drunken, fell back to one side and allowed a free passage for the animal. it seemed, indeed, to be a wolf, and a giant of its kind, and it slunk now with soundless step through the silence of the barroom, glancing neither to right nor to left, until it came before the table of mac strann. there it halted and slunk back a little, the upper lip lifted away from the long fangs, its eyes glittered upon the face of the giant, and then it swung about and slipped out of the barroom as it had come, in utter silence. in the utter silence mac strann leaned across the table to haw-haw langley. “he’s come alone this time,” he said, “but the next time he’ll bring his master with him. “we’ll wait!” the adam’s-apple rose and fell in the throat of haw-haw. “we’ll wait,” he nodded, and he burst into the harsh, unhuman laughter which had given him his name. the discovery of life - sleepy eyes. not a lovely beast, but a mild one. so i went into the saddle according to theory—with some slight hesitations here and there, planted my feet in the stirrups, and told the lantern-jawed fel— low to turn loose the head of the pie-bald. this was done. i shook the reins. the horse did not move. i called to the brute by name. one ear wagged back to listen to me. “i kicked the beast in the ribs. unfortunately i had forgotten that long spurs were on my heels. the horse was instantly aware of that fact, however. he leaped into a full gallop. a very jolty process. then he stopped—but i kept on going. a fence was in the way, so i was halted. afterwards the lantern- jawed man picked me up and offered to carry me back to the house or at least get a wheelbarrow for me. i refused with some dignity. i remarked that i preferred walking, really, and so i started out across the hills and away from the house. my head was sore; so were my shoulders where i hit the fence; i began to think of the joy of facing that horse again, armed with a club. “it was evening—after supper, you see—and the light of the moon was already brighter than the sun- light. and by the time i had crossed the first range of hills, it was quite dark. as i walked i brooded upon many things. there were enough to disturb me. “there was old joe cumberland, at death’s door and beyond the reach of my knowledge; and he had been taken away from death by the wild man, dan the discovery of life ‘how do you guess at that?’ i asked. ‘by the sound of his whistling,’ he answered. ‘for he whistles as if he expected an answer—as if he were talking with someone.’ and by the lord, the old man was right. it would never have occurred to me! “now as i started down the farther slope of a hill a whistling sound ran upon me through the wind, and looking back i saw a horseman galloping with great swiftness along the line of the crest, very plainly outlined by the sky, and by something of smoothness in the running of the horse i knew that it was barry and his black stallion. but the whistling—the music! dear god, man, have you read of the pipes of pan? that night i heard them and it made a riot in my heart. “he was gone, suddenly, and the whistling went out like a light, but something had happened inside me—the first beginning of this process of internal change. the ground no longer seemed so dark. there were earth smells—very friendly—i heard some little creature chirruping contentedly to itself. something hummed—a grasshopper, perhaps. and then i looked up to the stars. there was not a name i could think of—i forgot them all, and for the first time i was contented to look at them and wonder at their beauty without an attempt at analy- sis or labelling. “if i say that i went back to the ranchhouse with my feet on the ground and by heart up there among the stars, will you understand? “i found the girl sewing in front of the fire in the wild geese the living room. simply looked up to me with a smile, and a certain dimness about the eyes—well, my breath stopped. “ ‘kate,’ said i, ‘i am going away to-morrow morning!’ “ ‘and leave dad?’ said she. “ ‘to tell you the truth,’ i answered, ‘there is nothing i can do for him. there has never been anything i could do for him.’ “ ‘i am sorry,’ said she, and lifted up her eyes to me. “now, i had begun by being stiff with her, but the ringing of that whistling—pipes of pan, you know—was in my ears. i took a chair beside her. something overflowed in my heart. for the first time in whole days i could look on her beauty with- out pain. “ ‘do you know why i’m going?’ i asked. “she waited. “ ‘because,’ said i, and smiled right into her face, ‘i love you, kate, most infernally; and i know perfectly well that i will get never the devil a bit of good out of it.’ “she peered at me. ‘you aren’t jesting ?’ says she. ‘no, you’re serious. i’m very sorry, doctor byrne.’ “ ‘and i,’ i answered, ‘am glad. i wouldn’t change it for the world. for once in my life—t - night—i’ve forgotten myself. no, i won’t go away and nurse a broken heart, but i’ll think of you as a man should think of something bright and above him. you’ll keep my heart warm, kate, till i’m a chapter xxxvii the piebald the morning of the doctor’s departure witnessed quite a ceremony at the cumberland ranch, for old joe cumberland insisted that he be brought down from his room to his old place in the livingroom. when he attempted to rise from his bed, however, he found that he could not stand; and big buck daniels lifted the old man like a child and carried him down the stairs. once ensconced on the sofa in- the livingroom joe cumberland beckoned his daugh- ter close to him, and whispered with a smile as she leaned over: “here’s what comes of pretendin’, kate. i been pretending to be too sick to walk, and now i can’t walk; and if i’d pretended to be well, i’d be ridin’ satan right now!” he looked about him. “where’s dan p” he asked. “upstairs getting ready for the trip.” “trip p” “he’s riding with doctor byrne to town and he’ll bring back doctor byrne’s horse.” the old man grew instantly anxious. “they’s a lot of things can happen on a long trip like that, kate.” ° the picbald she nodded gravely. “but we have to try him,” she said. “we can’t keep him here at the ranch all the time. and if he really cares, dad, he’ll come bac .” “and you let him go of your own free will?” asked _ioe cumberland, wonderingly. “i asked him to go,” she answered quietly, but some of the colour left her face. “of course it’s going to come out all right,” nodded her father. “i asked him when he’d be back, and he said he would be here by dark to-night.” the old man sighed with relief. “he don’t never slip up on promises,” he said. “but oh, lass, i’ll be glad when he’s back again! buck, how’d you and dan come along together?” “we don’t come,” answered buck gloomily. “i tried to shake hands with him yesterday and call it quits. but he wouldn’t touch me. he jest leaned back and smiled at me and hated me with his eyes, that way he has. he don’t even look at me except when he has to, and when he does i feel like someone was sneaking up behind me with a knife ready. and he ain’t said ten words to me since i come back.” he paused and considered kate with the same dark, lowering glance. “to-morrow i leave.” “you’ll think better of that,” nodded _ioe cumber- land. “here’s the doctor now.” he came in with dan barry behind him. a changed man was the doctor. he was a good two inches taller because he stood so much more erect, the wild geese and there was a little spring in his step which gave aspiration and spirit to his carriage. he bade them good-bye one by one, and by joe cumberland he sat down for an instant and wished him luck. the old ranchman drew the other down closer. “they’s no luck for me,” he whispered, “but don’t tell none of ’em. i’m about to take a longer trip than you’ll ride to-day. but first i’ll see ’em settled down here—dan quiet and both of ’em happy. s’long, doc—thanks for takin’ care of me. but this here is something that can’t be beat no way. too many years’ll break the back of any man, doc. luck to ye!” “if you’ll step to the door,” said the doctor, smil- ing upon the rest, “you’ll have some fun to watch. i’m going to ride on the piebald.” “him that throwed you yesterday ?” grinned buck daniels. “the same,” said the doctor. “i think i can come to a gentleman’s understanding with him. a gentle— man from the piebald’s point of view is one who is never unintentionally rude. he may change his mind this morning—or he may break my back. one of the two is sure to happen.” in front of the house dan barry already sat on satan with black bart sitting nearby watching the face of his master. and beside them the lantern- jawed cowpuncher held the bridle of the piebald mustang. never in the world was there a lazier ap- pearing beast. his lower lip hung pendulous, a full inch and a half below the upper. his eyes were the piebald rolled so that hardly more than the whites showed. he seemed to stand asleep, dreaming of some nir- vana for equine souls. and the only signs of life were the long cars, which wobbled, occasionally, back and forth. when the doctor mounted, the piebald limited all signs of interest to opening one eye. the doctor clucked. the piebald switched his tail. satan, at a word from dan barry, moved gracefully into a soft trot away from the house. the doctor slapped his mount on the neck. an ear flicked back and forth. the doctor stretched out both legs, and then be dug both spurs deep into the flanks of the mustang. it was a perfectly successful maneuvre. the back of the piebald changed from an ugly humped line to a decidedly, sharp parabola and the horse left the ground with all four feet. he hit it again, almost in the identical hoof-marks, and with all legs stiff. the doctor sagged drunkenly in the saddle, and his head first swung far back, and then snapped over so that the chin banged against his chest. nevertheless he clung to the saddle with both hands, and stayed in his seat. the piebald swung his head around suffi- ciently to make sure of the surprising fact, and then he commenced to buck in earnest. it was a lovely exhibition. he bucked with his head up and his head between his knees. he bucked in a circle and in a straight line and then mixed both styles for variety. he made little spurts at full speed, leaped into the air, and came down . the wild geese stiff-legged at the end of the run, his head between his braced forefeet, and then he whirled as if on a peg and darted back the other way. he bucked criss-cross, jumping from side to side, and he inter- spersed this with samples of all his other kinds of bucking thrown in. that the doctor stuck on the saddle was a miracle beyond belief. of course he pulled leather shamelessly throughout the contest, but riding straight up is a good deal of a myth. fancy riding is reserved for circus men. the moun- tain-desert is a place where men stick close to utility and let style go hang. and the doctor stuck in the saddle. he had set his teeth, and he was a sea-sick greenish-white. his hat was a-jog over one ear—his shirt tails flew out behind. and still he remained to battle. aye, for he ceased the passive clinging to the saddle. he gathered up the long quirt which had hitherto dangled idly from his wrist, and at the very moment when the piebald had let out another notch in his feats, the doctor, holding on desperately with one hand, with the other brandished the quirt around his head and brought it down with a crack along the flanks of the piebald. the effect was a little short of a miracle. the mustang snorted and leaped once into the air, but he forgot to come down stiff-legged, and then, instantly, he broke into a little, soft dog trot, and followed humbly in the trail of the black stallion. the laughter and cheers from the house were the sweetest of music in the ears of doctor randall the wild geese the speed of their motion and almost gauge it. by miles per hour. and in the distance they seemed to brush the tops of the hills. seeing this, the doctor remembered what he had heard of rain in this region. it would come, they said, in sheets and masses—literal water-falls. dry arroyos suddenly filled and became swift torrent, rolling big boulders down their courses. there were tales of men ford- ing rivers who were suddenly overwhelmed by ter- rific walls of water which rushed down from the higher mountains in masses four and eight feet high. in coming they made a thundering among the hills and they plucked up full grown trees like twigs thrust into wet mud. indeed, that was the sort of rain one would expect in such a country, so whipped and naked of life. even the reviving rain- fall was sent in the form of a scourge; and that which should make the grass grow might tear it up by the roots. that was a time of change and of portent, and a day well fitted to the mood of randall byrne. he, also, had altered, and there was about to break upon him the rain of life, and whether it would destroy ' him or make him live, and richly, he could not guess. but he was naked to the skies of chance—naked as this landscape. far past the mid-day they reached the streets of elkhead and stopped at the hotel. as the doctor swung down from his saddle, cramped and sore from the long ride, thunder rattled over the distant hills and a patter of rain splashed in the dust and the piebald sent up a pungent odor to his nostrils. it was like the voice of the earth proclaiming its thirst. and a blast of wind leaped down the street and lifted the brim of barry’s hat and set the bandana at his throat fluttering. he looked away into the teeth of the wind and smiled. there was something so curious about him at the instant that randall byrne wanted to ask him into the hotel—wanted to have him knee to knee for a long talk. but he remembered an old poem —the sea-shell needs the waves of the sea—the bird will not sing in the cage. and the yellow light in the eyes of barry, phosphorescent, almost—a thing that might be nearly seen by night—that, surely, would not shine under any roof. it was the wind which made him smile. these things he under- stood, without fear. so he said good-bye, and the rider waved care- lessly and took the reins of the piebald and turned the stallion back. he noted the catlike grace of the horse in moving, as if his muscles were steel springs; and he noted also that the long ride had scarcely stained the glossy hide with sweat—while the piebald reeked with the labour. randall byrne drew thoughtfully back onto the porch of the hotel and followed the rider with his eyes. in a moment a great cloud of dust poured down the street, cov- ered the rider, and when it was gone he had passed around a corner and out of the life of the doctor. chapter xxxviii the challenge all this time black bart had trotted contentedly ahead of satan, never having to glance back but ap- parently knowing the intended direction; save that when dan barry turned to the road leading out of the little town, the wolf-dog had turned in an oppo- site direction. the rider turned in the saddle and sent a sharp whistle towards the animal, but he was answered by a short howl of woe that made him check satan and swing around. black bart stood in the centre of the street facing in the opposite di- rection, and he looked back over his shoulder towards his master. there was apparently a perfect understanding be- tween them, and the master first glanced up and made sure of the position of the sun and the length of time he might allow for the trip home, before he decided to follow the whim of the wolf—dog. then he turned satan and cantered, with the piebald trail- ing, back towards black bart. at this the wolf-dog began to trot down the street, turned the next corner, and drew up at the door of a rambling building above which hung a dirty, cracked sign: “gilead saloon” and under- the challenge neath in smaller letters was painted the legend: “here’s where you get it!” black bart strolled up to the swinging doors of the emporium and then turned to look back at his master; clearly he wished dan to enter the place. but the rider shook his head and would certainly have ridden on had not, at that moment, the rain which had hitherto fallen only in rattling bursts, now burst over the roofs of the town with a loud roaring as of wind through a forest. it was pos- sible that the shower might soon pass over, so dan rode under the long shelter which stretched in front of the saloon, dismounted, and entered behind black bart. it was occupied by a scattering of people, for the busy time of the day had not yet commenced and pale annie was merely idling behind the bar—- working at half-speed, as it were. to this group black bart paid not the slightest heed but glided smoothly down the centre of the long room until he approached the tables at the end, where, in a corner, sat a squat, thick-chested man, and opposite him the most cadaverously lean fellow that whistling dan had ever seen. before these two black bart paused and then cast a glance over his shoulder to- wards the master; whistling dan frowned in won- der; he knew neither of the pair. but black bart apparently did. he slouched a pace closer, crouched, and bared his fangs with a. tremendous snarl. at this the lean man left his chair and sprang back to a distance. terror con- the wild geese vulsed his face; but his eyes glittered with a fas- cinated interest and he glanced first at his companion and then at the great wolf-dog, as if he were making a comparison between them. it was the broad shouldered man who first spoke. “partner,” he said in a thick voice, in which the articulation was almost lost, “maybe you better take your dog out before he gets hurt. he don’t like me and i don’t like him none too much.” “bart!” called dan barry. but black bart gave no heed. there had been a slight flexing of his muscles as he crouched, and now he leaped—a black bolt of fighting weight —-squarely in the face of the giant. he was met and checked midway in his spring. for the two long arms darted out, two great hands fastened in the throat of the beast, and black bart fell back upon the floor, with mac strann following, his grip never broken by the fall. a scurry of many feet running towards the scene; a shouting of twenty voices around him; but all that whistling dan saw were the fangs of bart as they gnashed fruitlessly at the wrists of mac strann, and then the great red tongue lolling out and the eyes bulging from their sockets—all he heard was the snarling of the wolf and the peculiar whine of rage which came from the throat of the man—beast fight- ing the wolf. then he acted. his hands darted be- tween the thick forearms of mac strann—his el— bows jerked out and snapped the grip; next he dragged black bart away from the danger. the challenge -—a significant answer, but pale annie went on swiftly: “yes, you’re strong, but strength won’t save you from dan barry. we know him here in elk- head. do you know that if he had pulled his gun and shot you down right here where you sit, that he could have walked out of this room without a hand raised to stop him? yes, sir! and why? because we know his record; and i’d rather go against a wolf with my bare hands—as you did—than stand up against dan barry with guns. i could tell you how he fought jim silent’s gang, one to six. i could tell you a lot of other things. my friend, i will tell you about ’em if you’ll listen. but mac strann considered the speaker with his dull eyes. “i never was much on talkin’,” he observed mildly. “i don’t understand talkin’ very well.” pale annie started to speak again, but he checked himself, stared earnestly at mac strann, and then hurried back behind his bar. his face was even graver than usual; but business was business with pale annie—and all men have to die in their time! haw-haw langley took the place which pale annie had left vacant opposite mac strann. he cast a frightened glance upward, where the rain roared steadily on the roof of the building; then his eyes fluttered back until they rested on the face of his companion. he had to moisten his thin lips before he could speak and even then it was a convulsive effort, like a man swallowing too large a morsel. . the wild geese “well?” said haw-haw. “is it fixed?” “it’s fixed,” said mac strann. “maybe you’d get the hosses, haw—haw. if you’re comin with me?” a dark shadow swept over the face of haw-haw langley. \ “you’re going to beat it?” he sneered. “after you come all this way you’re going to run away from barry? and him not half your size?” “i’m going out to meet him,” answered mac strann. haw-haw langley started up as if he feared mac strann would change his mind if there were any delay. his long fingers twisted together, as if to bring the blood into circulation about the purple knuckles. “i’ll have the hosses right around to the front,” he said. “by the time you got your slicker on, mac, i’ll have ’em around in front!” and he stalked swiftly from the room. . the wild geese pencil drawings—not like ordinary rain, but as if the sky had changed into a vast watering-spout and was sending down a continuous flood from a myriad holes. it was hard to look up through the terrific down-pour, for it blinded one and whipped the face and made one breathless, but now and again a puff of the rare wind would lift the sodden brim of the sombrero and then one caught a glimpse of the low-hanging clouds, with the nearest whif’fs of black mist dragging across the top of a hill. without noticeable currents of wind, that mass of clouds was shifting slowly—with a sort of rolling motion, across the sky. and the weight of the rain forced the two to bend their heads and stare down to where the face of the earth was alive with the gliding, brown waters, whose surface was threshed into a continual foam. to speak to each other through the uproar, they had to cup their hands about their lips and shout. then again the rain- fall around them fell away to a drizzling mist and the beating of the down-pour sounded far away, and they were surrounded by distant walls of noise. so they came to the mcduffy place. it was a helpless ruin, long abandoned. not an iota of the roof remained. the sheds for the horses had dropped to the earth; but the walls of the house still remained standing, in part, with the empty windows looking out with a mocking promise of the shelter which was not within. upon this hollow‘shack the rain beat with redoubled fury, and even before they could make out the place through the storm the blankets of rain, they heard the hollow drum- ming. for there were times, oddly enough, when any sound would carry a great distance through the crashing of the rain. a wind now sprung up and at once veered the rain from its perpendicular fall. it slashed them in the face under the drooping brims of their som- breros, so they drew into the shelter of the highest part of the standing wall. still some of the rain struck them, but the major part of it was shunted over their heads. moreover, the wall acted as a sort of sounding board, catching up every odd noise from the storm-beaten plain beyond. they could speak to each other now without effort. “d’you think,” asked haw-haw langley, press- ing his reeking horse a little closer to mac strann, “that he’ll come out after us in a rain like this?” but simple-minded mac strann lifted his head and peered through the thick curtains of rain. “d’you think,” he parried, “that jerry could may- be look through all this and see what i’m doin’ to- day?” it made haw-haw langley grin, but peering more closely and observing that there was no mock- ery in the face of the giant, he wiped out his grin with a scrubbing motion of his wet hand and peered closely into the face of his companion. “they ain’t any doubt of it,” he said reassuringly. “he’ll know what you do, mac. what was it that pale annie said to you ?” the wild geese “wanted me not to meet barry. said that barry had once cleaned up a gang of six.” “and here we are only two.” “you ain’t to fight!” warned mac strann sharply. “it’ll be man to man, haw-haw.” “but he might not notice that,” cried haw-haw, and he caressed his scrawny neck as though he al- ready felt fingers closing about his windpipe. “him bein’ used to fight crowds, mac. did you think of that?” “i never asked you to come,” responded mac strann. “mac,” cried haw-haw in a sudden alarm, “s’pose you wasn’t to win. s’pose you wasn’t able to keep him away from me ?” the numb lips of mac strann sprawled in an ugly smile, but he made no other answer. “y on don’t think you’ll lose,” hurried on haw- haw, “but neither did them six that pale annie was tellin’ about, most like. but they did! they lost; but if you lose what’ll happen to me?” “they ain’t no call for you to stay here,” said' mac strann with utter indifference. haw-haw answered quickly: “i wouldn’t go— i wouldn’t miss it for nothin’. ain’t i come all this way to see it—i mean to help? would i fall down on you now, mac? no, i wouldn’t!” and twisting those bony fingers together he burst once more into that rattling, unhuman laughter which all the three b’s knew so well and dreaded the wild geese when you touch me, it feels like somethin’ dead was next to my skin. keep of’f’n me!” haw-haw dragged himself back into the saddle with effort, for it was slippery with rain. his face convulsed with something black as hate. “it ain’t long you’ll do the orderin’ and be so free with your hands. he’s comin’—soon! mac, i’d like to stay—i’d like to see the finish ” he stopped, his buzzard eyes glittering against the face of the giant. the rain blotted out the figure of the coming horseman, and at the same instant the whistling leaped close upon them. it was as if the whistling man had disappeared at the place where the rain swallowed his form, and had taken body again at their very side. mac strann shrank back against the wall, bracing his shoulders, and gripped the butts of his guns. but haw-haw langley cast a frightened glance on either side; his head making birdlike, pecking notions, and then he leaned over the pommel of his saddle with a wail of despair and spurred off into the rain. chapter xl the arroyo ' he disappeared, instantly, in that shivering cur- tain of greyness. mac strann sat by the ruined house alone. now, in a time of danger a child will give cou- rage to the strong man. there is a wonderful com- munion between any two in time of crisis; and when haw-haw langley disappeared through the rain it was to mac strann as it was to patroclus when apollo struck the base of his neck and his armour of proof fell from him. not only was there a singular sense of nakedness, but it seemed to him also that the roaring of the rain became a hostile voice of threatening at the same instant. he had never in his life feared any living thing. but now there was a certain hollowness in the region of his stomach, and his heart fluttered like a bird in the air, with appalling lightness. and he wished to be far away. with a clear heaven above him—ay, that would be different, but god had arranged this day and had set the earth like a stage in readiness for a death. and that was why the rain lashed the earth so fiercely. he looked down. after his death the . the wild geese wind would still continue to beat that muddy water to foam. ay, in that very place all would be as it was at this moment. he would be gone, but the sky and the senseless earth would remain unchanged. a sudden yearning seized him for the cabin among the mountains, with the singing of the coffee pot over the fire—the good, warm, yellow fire that smoked between the rocks. and the skins he had left leaning against the walls of the cabin to dry —he remembered them all in one glance of memory. why was be here, then, when he should have been so far away, making his roof snug against this torrent of rain. now, there would be no rain, surely, in those kindly mountains. their tall peaks would shut out the storm clouds. only this plain, these low hills, were the place of hell! he swung the head of his horse to one side, drove deep the spurs, and leaning his head to the volley- ing of the rain he raced in a direction opposite to that in which haw-haw langley had disappeared, in a direction that led as straight as the line of a flying bird towards that cabin in the mountains. now and then the fore-feet of his great horse smashed into a pool and sent a muddy shower of rain flying up. it crackled against his slicker; it beat like hands against his face. everything was striving—all the elements of wind and rain—to hold him back. yet flight brought a blessed sense of relief and of safety. he eased the pace of his horse to a moderate gallop, and no longer driving blindly the arroyo its entire bulk out of the water with the impact, and then floundered back into the stream again and whirled instantly out of sight in the sheeted rain. no horse in the world could live through such a current. but the arroyo might turn. he swung his horse and spurred desperately along the bank, keeping his eye upon the bank. no, the stream cut back in a sharp curve and headed him farther and farther in the direction of the pursuer. he brought the mighty horse to another sliding halt and swung about in the opposite direction, for surely there must lie the point of escape. desperately he rode, for the detour had cost him priceless time, yet it might be made up. ay, the stream sloped sharply into the direction in which he wished to ride. for a distance he could not judge, since seconds were longer than minutes to mac strann now. and then—the edge of the stream curved back again. he thought it must be a short twist in the line of the arroyo, but following it a little further he came to realise the truth. the arroyo described a wide curve, and a sharp one, and to ride down its banks on either side was merely to throw himself into the arms of whistling dan. once he struck his fleshy forehead, and then turned with gritting teeth and galloped back for the point at which he had first arrived. to his mad- dened brain it occurred that the current of the arroyo might by this have somewhat abated. he might now make his way across it. so he halted once more on the bank at the point where the stream the arroyo the whistle wavered, ended, and in its place the long yell of a wolf cut the air. mac strann bran- dished a ponderous fist in defiance that was half hysterical. man or beast alone he would meet—but a wolf-manl—he whirled the horse again and urged him heedlessly into the water. the whirlpool no longer opened before him—it had passed on down the arroyo and left in its wake a comparative calm. so that when the horse took the water he made good progress for some distance, until mac strann could see, clearly, the farther bank of the stream. in his joy he shouted to his horse, and swung himself clear from his saddle to lighten the burden. at the same time they struck a heavier current and it struck them down like a blow from above until the water closed over their heads. it was only for a moment, however; then they emerged, the horse with courageously pricking ears and snorting nostrils just above the flood. mac strann swung clear, gripping the horn of the sad- dle with one hand while with the other he hastily divested himself of all superfluous weight. his slicker went first, ripped away from throat and shoulders and whipped off his body by one tug of the current. next he fumbled at his belt and tossed thisalso, guns and all, away; striking out with his legs and his free arm to aid the progress that now forged ahead with noticeable speed. the current, to be sure, was carrying them far- ther down the stream, but they were now almost to the centre of the arroyo and, though the water the wild geese giant) and there’s the dog you shot. if you drop me, you can send your next shot into bart. if i drop you, the teeth of bart will be in your throat. make your own terms; fight in the way you want; knives, if you like ’em better than guns, or ” and here the yellow flamed terribly in barry’s eyes— “bare hand to hand!” the grim truth sank slowly home in the dull mind of mac strann. the man had saved him from the water to kill him on dry land. “barry,” he said slowly, “it was your bullet that brung down jerry; but you’ve paid me back here. they’s nothin’ left on earth worth fightin’ for. there’s your gun.” and he threw the revolver into the mud at barry’s feet, turned on his heel, and lumbered off into the rain. there was no voice of answer be- hind him, except a shrill whine of rage from black bart and then a sharp command: “down!” from the master. as the blanket of rain shut over him, mac strann looked back. there stood the strange man with the wolf crouched at his feet, and the teeth of bart were bared, and the hum of his hor- rible snarling carried to strann through the beat of the rain. mac strann turned again, and plodded slowly through the storm. and dan barry? twice men had stood before him, armed, and twice he had failed to kill. won- der rose in him; wonder and a great fear. was he losing the desert, and was the desert losing him? were the chains of humanity falling about him to the wild geese “nobody but a fool,” he said, “would have start- ed out of elkhead in a storm like this.” “weather makes no difference to dan,” said joe cumberland. ' “but he’d think of his hoss ” “weather makes no difference to satan,” an- swered the faint, oracular voice of joe cumberland. “kate!” i‘y'es p” “is he comin’?” she did not answer. instead, she got up slowly from her place by the fire and took another chair, far away in the gloom, where hardly a glimmer of light reached to her and there she let her head rest, as if exhausted, against the back of the seat. “he promised,” said buck daniels, striving de- sperately to keep his voice cheerful, “and he never busts his promises.” “ay,” said the old man, “he promised to be back ——but he ain’t here.” “if he started after the storm,” said buck dan- iels. “he didn’t start after the storm,” announced the oracle. “he was out in it.” “what was that,” cried buck daniels sharply. “the wind,” said kate, “for it’s rising. it will be a cold night, to-night.” “and he ain’t here,” said the old man monoton- ously. “ain’t there things that might hold him up?” asked buck, with a touch of irritation. the wild geese among the shadows. the flames jumped on the hearth, and he saw a picture that knocked at his heart. “the little bow-legged feller, i mean." “yes, i remember him very well.” once more the flames sputtered and he saw how. she looked wistfully before her and above. she had never seemed so lovely to buck daniels. she was pale, indeed, but there was no ugly pinching of her face, and if there were shadows beneath her eyes, they only served to make her eyes seem marvelously large and bright. she was pallid, and the firelight stained her skin with touches of tropic gold, and cast a halo of the golden hair about her face. she seemed like one of those statues wrought in the glory and the rich days of athens in ivory and in gold— some goddess who has heard the tidings of the com- ing fall, the change of the old order, and sits passive in her throne waiting the doom from which there is no escape. something of this filtered through to the sad heart of buck daniels. he, too, had no hope—nay, he had not even her small hope, but somehow he was able to pity her and cherish the picture of her in that gloomy place. it seemed to buck daniels that he would give ten years from the best of his life to see her smile as he had once seen her in those old, bright days. he went on with his tale. “you would have busted laughin’ if you’d seen him at the circle y bar roundup the way i seen him. shorty ain’t so bad with a rope. he’s always the wild geese that bull come tarin’ for him. up he jumps. and jest then the bull come to the end of the line and wonk!—-down he goes, head over heels, and hits the sand with a bang that must of jostled his liver some, i’ll be sayin’! “well, shorty, he seen that bull fly up into the air and he lets out a yell like the world was comin' to an end, and starts runnin’. if he’d run straight back the other way the bull couldn’t of run a step, because i had him fast with my rope, but shorty seen me, and he come tarin’ for my hoss to get behind him. “that hull was like a cat gettin’ to his feet, and he sights shorty tarin’ and lights out after him. there they went lickety-split. that bull was puflin’ on the seat of shorty’s trowsers and tossin’ his horns and jest missin’ shorty by inches; and shorty had his mouth so wide open hollerin’ that you could have throwed a side of beef down his throat; and his eyes was buggin’ out. them bow-legs of his was stretchin’ ten yards at a clip, most like, and the boys says they could hear him hollerin’ a mile away. but that bull, stretch himself all he could, couldn’t gain an inch on shorty, and shorty could’nt gain an inch on the bull, till the bull come to the other end of the forty-foot rope, and then, whang! up goes the heels of the bull and down goes his head, and his heels comes over—wonk! and hits shorty right square on the head. “been an ordinary feller, and he wouldn’t of lived to talk about it afterwards, but seein’ it was shorty, chapter xlii the journey into night there was no doubting the meaning of joe cum- berland. it grew upon them with amazing swift- ness, as if the black stallion were racing upon the house at a swift gallop, and the whistling rose and rang and soared in a wild outburst. give the eagle the throat of the lark, and after he has struck down his prey in the centre of the sky and sent the ragged feathers and the slain body falling down to earth, what would be the song of the eagle rising again and dwindling out of sight in the heart of the sky? what terrible pean would he send whistling down to the dull earth far below? and such was the music that came before the coming of dan barry. it did not cease, as usual, at a distance, but it came closer and closer, and it swelled around them. buck daniels had risen from his chair and stolen to a corner of the room where not a solitary shaft of light could possibly reach him; and kate cumber- land slipped farther into the depths of the big chair. so that, in their utter silence, in spite of the whis- tling that blew in upon them, they could hear the dull ticking of the tall clock, and by a wretched freak of fate the ticking fell exactly in with the the wild geese still the wolf-dog drew the girl in that snarling progress towards the door. “kate!” cried her father, and the agony in his voice made it young and sent it ringing through the room. “will you go out to wander between heaven and hell—on a night like this ?" “i’m not going!” she answered, “i won’t leave you—but oh—dad!-—-” he opened his lips for a fresh appeal, but the chorus of the wild geese swept in upon the wind, blown loud and clear and jangling as distant bells out of tune. and kate cumberland buried her face in her hands and stumbled blindly out of the room and down the hall—and then they heard the wild neighing of a horse outside. “buck!” commanded joe cumberland. “he’s stealin’ my girl—my kate—~go out! call up the boys—tell ’em to stop dan from saddlin’ a horse for kate—” “wait and listen!” cut in buck daniels. “d’you hear that ?” on the wet ground outside they heard a patter of galloping hoofs, and then a wild whistling, sweet and keen and high, came ringing back to them. it diminished rapidly with the distance. “he’s carryin’ her off on satan!” groaned joe cumberland, staggering as he tried to step forward. “buck, call out the boys. even satan can’t beat my bosses when he’s carryin’ double—call ’em out—if you bring her back—_” the saddle boys of the rockies e captain james carson ovaris peninsulam amanan scientia artes veritas library (f thie university of michigan tixhor circumstice safi - to merry christmas ralph. from starry & heod storekee . oda the big powerful black acted as though he had gone wild. the saddle boys of the rockies page - - the saddle boys of the rockies or lost on thunder mountain by captain james carson author of "the saddle boys in the grand canyon," "ti saddle boys on the plains," the saddle boys at circle ranch," etc. illustrated new york cupples & leon company publishers books for boys by captain james carson the saddle boys series izmo. cloth. illustrated. the saddle boys of the rockibs or, lost on thunder mountain the saddle boys in the grand canyon or, the hermit of the cave the saddle boys on the plains or, after a treasure of gold the saddle boys at circle ranch or, in at the grand round-up copyrighted , by cupples & leon company the saddle boys of the rockies printed in u. s. a. lilar , haticani ¿sob contents chapter page i . i. accepting a challenge ii. the strange actions of domino iii. old hank coombs bears a message iv. a note of warning at the spring hole v. the voice of the mountain vi. a second alarm vii. the “rustlers viii. a startling discovery ix. what happened to peg x. threats of trouble xi. the black night xii. losing their bearings xiii. the smoke trail xiv. a call for help xv. spanish joe drops a hint xvi. the vent hole in the wall xvii. frank holds the hot stick xviii. a guess that hits the bulls- . . . eye contents pages chapter xix. the working of the gold lode xx. trapped in the canyon xxi. a close call xxii. once more at circle ranch -conclusion canyon . saddle boys of the rockies owned a large tract of land with many herds, but had interests in paying mines located among the mountains of the southwest. of course he knew more or less concerning such things as cowboys practice; though never a day passed on which frank could not pick up new ideas connected with life in the open. his companion, bob archer, was considerably taller than frank, straight as an indian, though rather inclined to be slender; but with a sup- pleness that indicated such strength and agility as the panther displays. coming from kentucky, bob could at least boast of long familiarity with horses; and his cleverness in this line promised to make him a crack horseman when he had picked up a few more of the tricks known to range riders. both of the boys were especially fond of roam- ing the country, mounted on their favorite steeds; and indeed, they were becoming known far and near as the “saddle boys " because of their be- ing seen so frequently, dashing over the prairies at top-notch speed. peg was the nick-name which had followed percy egbert grant all the way from the chicago suburb, where, for some years, he had played the part of both dude and bully. his father was very wealthy, and peg always had more money than was good for him. saddle boys of the rockies when frank give him this little cut, the face of peg grant showed signs of anger. he knew very well that he was making wretched progress along the line of becoming an accomplished rider and cowboy. and the easy manner in which the other boys sat their saddles irritated him greatly. “what does it matter to you, frank haywood, when i left the greenhorn class and moved up a pace? all the boys of the x-bar-x outfit say i'm full-fledged now, and able to hold my own with nearly any fellow. it'll be some time, i rec- kon, before your new friend can say the same. but i will own that he's got a horse that takes my eye, for a fact.” “that's where you show good judgment, peg,” said frank, laughing. “he brought that black horse with him from kentucky. and he can ride some, you'd better believe me. when he gets on to the ways we have out here, bob will hold his own against heaps of boys that were born and brought up on the plains." “say, i don't suppose, now, you'd care to sell that animal, archer?” asked peg, as he eyed the handsome mount of the kentucky boy enviously. "because i fancy i'd like to own him more than i ever did that frisky buckskin frank rides. if you'd put a fairly decent price on him now—" “ i raised domino from a colt, i broke him to the saddle, and we have been together five years accepting a challenge now. money couldn't buy him from me,” replied the tall boy, curtly. it was not bob archer's habit to speak in this strain to anyone; but there seemed to be a some- thing connected with peg grant that irritated him. the manner of the other was so overbearing as to appear almost rude. he had had his own way a long time now; and thus far no one connected with the big ranch owned by his father had arisen to take him down. “oh! well, there are plenty of horses just as good, i guess," peg went on; and some people don't appreciate the value of money, anyway. but see here, frank, you let your eyebrows travel up when i mentioned the fact that i'd graduated from the tenderfoot class. i could see that you doubted my words. now, i'm going to tell you something that will surprise you a heap. are you ready for a shock?" oh; i can brace myself for nearly anything, peg," replied frank, easily; "so suppose you tell us your great news. have you entered for the endurance race at the annual cowboy meet next month; or do you expect to take the medal for riding bucking broncos ? " “any ordinary range rider might do that, even if he lost out,” peg went on; "but my game is along different lines; see? i'm on my way right now to run down the mystery of thunder moun- saddle boys of the rockies tain! i understand that for years it's puzzled the whole country to know what makes that roaring sound every now and then. many cowboys coudn't be hired to spend a single night on that mountain. as for the indians, they claim it is the voice of great manitou; and steer clear of thunder mountain, every time. get that, frank?" well, peg, you have given me a jolt, for a fact," answered the saddle boy, as his face ex- pressed his surprise. “i allow that you show a lot of nerve in laying out such a big plan; and if you only find out what makes that trembling, roaring sound, you'll get the blessing of many a range rider who believes all the stories told about thunder mountain." peg stiffened up in his saddle, as though he realized that he was engineering a tremendously important thing; and had a right to be looked up to as a hero, even before the accomplishment of the deed. “well, that's always the way with you fellows out here, i find,” he remarked, loftily; you leave all the big things to be done by fellows with real backbone. but then, i don't mind; in fact i'm obliged to you for neglecting your opportuni- ties so long. just you wait, and you'll hear something drop. couldn't i induce you to name a price on that black beauty, archer?” accepting a challenge “ domino is not for sale at any price," replied the other, quietly. “ohl all right then. so long, frank. go back home, and wait till i send you word about what i've found out!” and with a careless wave of his arm peg whirled his horse around, and galloped off. “now, i wonder did he mean that; or was he just bluffing?" said frank, as he turned to his chum. “he looked as if he might be in dead ear- nest,” replied bob; “but you know him better than i do, and ought to be able to say whether he'd have the sand to take up such a job as that.” “oh! nobody doubts his grit, when it comes to that," frank went on, as though trying to figure the matter out. and he seems to want to do something everybody else lets alone. you know what i told you about thunder mountain, bob; and how it has been a mystery ever since the coun- try hereabout was settled by people from the east?" “yes," the kentucky boy replied, “and some- how, what you told me seemed to shake me up as i don't ever remember being stirred before. it was like a direct challenge -just like somebody had dared me to look into this queer old mountain, and find out what it all meant." saddle boys of the rockies “that's just it,” said frank, watching the face of his chum with a show of eagerness. “it struck me the same way long ago, and i can re- member often thinking what a great time a few of the right kind of fellows might have if they took a notion to go nosing around that old pile of rock, to see what does make all that row every little while.” “and you tell me nobody knows what it is ? " demanded bob. “why, don't you understand, the cowboys all keep away from thunder mountain as much as they can. they're worse than the injuns about it, because while the reds say that is the voice of manitou talking, these fellows just up and de- clare the mountain is haunted. lots of 'em couldn't be hired to spend a night on the side of that big uplift." “but frank, we don't believe in any such thing, do we?” pursued bob, as if he had begun to suspect what all this talk was leading up to, and wished to draw his chum on. “we sure don't, and that's a fact," declared frank. twice, now, one of our boys has made out that he saw a ghost, but both times i managed to turn the laugh on him. all the same, if you offered a lump sum for any fellow to go and camp out half-way up the side of thunder mountain for a week, i don't believe he could be found, not at circle ranch, anyhow.” accepting a challenge " i've seen the same kind of men myself; and the coons around our old kentucky home always carried a foot of a graveyard rabbit, shot in the full of the moon, as a sure talisman against ghosts. i've seen many a rabbit's foot. no use talking to any of them; it's in the blood and can't be cured. but about that offering a sum for any fellow to go and camp on the side of that old fraud of a haunted mountain, if you happen to hear about such a snap you might just think of me, frank.” the other saddle boy smiled broadly. he be- lieved he knew bob pretty well by this time, and could no longer doubt what the kentucky lad was hinting at. “say, look here, would you take me up if i proposed something right now?' asked frank, his face filled with sudden anisaation. “if you mean that we try and beat peg grant at his own game, and learn what the secret of thunder mountain is, i say yes!” answered bob, steadily. impulsive frank threw out his hand. "shake on that!” he exclaimed. “i'm just primed for something that's out of the common run; and what could be finer than such a game ? i saw billy dixon in town; and we can send back word to father that we've gone off for a big gallop; so he won't worry if we don't turn up for a few days. is it a go, bob?". saddle boys of the rockies “and “ count on me,” replied the other. “i don't know how it is, frank; but it strikes me that i'd like to cut in on that boaster in this thing. if we managed to find out what makes that fearful booming in the mountain, and told about it before he got a chance to blow his horn, he'd feel cheap, wouldn't he?" “he sure would, now," frank said. when you look at it, he just the same as gave us the challenge direct, because he hinted that we didn't have the nerve to attempt such a big thing as this. bob, we'll call it a go! wonder what peg will say when he runs across us out there in that lonely place ? wow! i reckon he'll be some mad.' “let him," remarked bob, carelessly. “he has no claim on thunder mountain; has be? and we want to call his bluff, if it was one. so just make up your mind we're in for a new ex- perience. it may pan out a heap of fun for us. and it will be worth while if we can settle the question that has been giving these superstitious cowmen the creeps all these years." "then let's get through with our business, send word by billy, though not telling what we've got in the wind, and then pick up a few things we might need on a trip like this. after that we can drop out of town, and take our time heading for the mountain; because i think i'd like peg to get accepting a challenge there first, so that he couldn't say we'd stolen his thunder." half an hour later the saddle boys, having fin- ished their business, and sent the circle ranch cowboy galloping homeward bearing the message to mr. haywood, were moving slowly through the main street of the town, heading toward a store where they could pick up a couple of blankets, a simple cooking outfit, and some of the substantials in the way of bacon, coffee and the like, when they came upon a scene that instantly attracted their attention. it was a terrified cry that reached their ears at first, and caused both boys to pull in their horses. glancing in the direction whence the sound of distress seemed to spring, they saw a small mexican girl struggling with an over-grown fellow, garbed in the customary range habit, even to the chaps " of leather covering his trousers. both frank and bob jumped from their sad- dles, for the little affair was taking place in the courtyard of an inn that fronted on the street. whether the brute was simply playing the bully, and trying to kiss the girl; or meant to strike her for getting in his way, bob archer did not stop to inquire. his warm kentucky blood on fire, he made a swoop for the fellow, and managed to give him a saddle boys of the rockies tremendous blow that toppled him over in a heap. “ lie there, you coward!” he exclaimed. and then, as the fellow whom he had knocked down struggled to his knees, to stare up at him, bob discovered, not a little to his surprise, and satisfaction as well, that he was looking into a familiar face. it was peg grant! chapter ii the strange actions of domino "well, i declare!” exclaimed frank; which remark showed how much surprised he was to recognize the youth whom his chum had sent to the ground. what do you mean by hitting me like that?" snarled the rich man's son, as he managed to scramble to his feet again, though he seemed a bit“ groggy," and one of his eyes was already turning dark, as if it had come in violent contact with a stone when he struck the ground. “what do you mean, hurting that poor little mexican girl?” demanded bob, who stood on his guard, as though he might not be averse to trying conclusions with the bully, if so be the other felt like seeking satisfaction for his upset. “she sassed me when i ordered her to get out of my way, that's what she did; declared peg, wrathfully, “and i'd look nice now, wouldn't i, letting a little greaser kid talk back to me? so i was just giving her a good shaking when you broke in. guess you didn't know who you were hitting when you did that, bob archer!" saddle boys of the rockies "perhaps i didn't," replied the kentucky lad, calmly; "though that wouldn't have made any particular difference. any cur who would lay his hands on a child like that ought to get knocked down every time. i'd do it again if you gave me the chancel" peg stared at him. perhaps he had never been treated in this manner before. all his life his acquaintances had truckled to him on account of the great wealth of his father, and the liberal way, he himself, as a boy, rewarded those who were al- lowed the privilege of being his cronies or mates. “you—would, eh?” he gasped, as if hardly daring to believe his ears. “ even if you knew it was peg grant you'd treat me that way; would you? i'll remember that! i'm not the one to forget in a hurry. some day, perhaps, you'll wish you'd never tried to play the hero part, and hit me when my back was turned. i've got a good notion to teach you a lesson right now; that's what!” “ all right,” remarked bob, coolly. pose you begin. i was never in a better humor for trouble. somehow i seemed to just know we'd hit it up sooner or later if our trails crossed. i give you my word, my friend here won't put a finger on you, if so be you get the better of the you frank?" “ i should say not,” declared the lad, instantly, “sup- row; will strange actions of domino adding: “and unless i miss my guess there won't be any need of it, either.' are you coming on, peg?" asked the ken- tucky lad, temptingly. from under his drooping eyebrows peg ob- served how easily the other had assumed a position of self-defense. somehow peg did not fancy the athletic build of his antagonist; for, while bob was rather slender, he had the marks of one accustomed to exercise; possessing at least ordinary ability to take care of himself. "it'll keep, and be all the better for the delay," peg grumbled, as he clenched one fist furiously, and used the other hand to feel of his injured optic. “besides, i don't feel fit to fight right now, with this bunged-up eye. but just wait till the right time comes, and see what you get then for doing this.' oh! well, suit yourself," returned bob, with a laugh. "if the little brown-faced girl hadn't vamoosed i declare if i wouldn't feel like making you get down on your knees, and asking her to excuse you. bah! you're not worth bothering about, peg. get out!” the other moved away. he did not like the manner in which bob said this; and he seemed to be afraid that perhaps the other might yet decide to press some further indignity on him. when, however, he had reached the door of the strange actions of domino “ lei him, before he tries to strike; and that's more'n peg would do, if i read him straight.” * you must keep an eye out for him after this, bob. he'll never forgive you that crack. my! but didn't it drop him, though! just like a steer would go down when the loop of a lariat closes on his foreleg. that fellow will lie awake nights trying to get even with you." remarked bob, carelessly; next time perhaps i'll put a little more steam back of my fist, if he pushes me too hard. that's the way they treat cowards back where i was brought up; and they call anybody by that name who will put his hand in anger on girl or woman. but see here, frank, is this little affair going to force us to change our plans ? " “whew! i forgot all about that,” said the other, with a whistle, and an uplifting of his eye- brows. “if we go poking around thunder mountain, and peg is there, with a couple of the tough cowboys he has trailing after him most of the time, spanish joe and nick jennings, perhaps we'll run up against a peck of trouble.' well, how about it?" asked bob, with a shade of annoyance on his face. “what do you say?" asked frank, in turn. go, by all means," came the quick response. " you don't think so mean of me as to believe i'd be frightened off by the bare chance of running . saddle boys of the rockies across that fellow's trail out there; do you, frank ?" “all right, call it a bargain, then. i'm with you through thick and thin, bob. let peg have a care how he meddles with us. we're going to pay attention to our own business, and he'd better do the same. but what became of the little mex? i thought i'd seen her face before, somewhere, but she skipped out before i could take a second look. some cowboy, or cattle rustler's child from beyond the rio grande, i reckon. well, come along, let's get in the saddle again, and finish our shopping. then we'll go out to the country along the river, and put in a day waiting for peg to have his chance at finding out what makes thunder mountain groan and shake just so often, and scare the injuns out of their seven senses. as the two chums swung themselves into their saddles, and cantered away, a head was thrust cautiously out from behind a pile of boxes near by; and then, finding the coast clear, the small girl who had been the cause of all the trouble darted across the courtyard, vanishing beyond the gate. frank and bob went about making their pur- chases, first fastening their horses to a rail in front of the general store, where everything they needed could be bought. more than one cattleman in passing would cast strange actions of domino an envious eye toward those two splendid mounts, for they could not fail to catch the attention of anyone accustomed to judging horseflesh, as these western men were. still, it would be a bold man indeed, white or indian, who would dare at- tempt to steal a horse in broad daylight, in a country where such a thief was treated to a rope when caught. frank had had considerable experience in roughing it, while his comrade was, in a measure, new to such a life. consequently it was frank whose judgment was called into play when making a selection of the things that would be essential to their comfort when on this new campaign. many articles they could do without; but a blanket apiece was absolutely necessary, as was a frying pan and coffee pot, two cups, as many platters, as well as common knives, forks and spoons such as prospectors and cattlemen use. for food they took some bacon, coffee, dried meat, hard-tack in place of bread, a can of con- densed milk, and several other things which would carry well. we must make them up in two packs," frank went on; so that each of us can fasten one to his horse, back of the saddle. and, as i'm an old hand at this business, just watch me get a hustle on. next time you'll know how to go about it for yourself, bob.” saddle boys of the rockies had stirred up a hornet's nest, and the little in- sects were charging his exposed legs. no sooner was bob in the saddle than the horse gave a shrill neigh, and dashed off like a crazy creature. indeed, a less experienced rider than bob would have been instantly thrown by the sudden and unexpected move, something that domino had never been known to attempt before. frank looked up in astonishment. his prac- ticed eye told him in an instant that the sudden violent dash had not been engineered in the least by his chum; but was altogether the result of fright on the part of domino. why, the big and powerful black acted as though he had gone wild, jumping madly about, now fairly flying off to one side, only to whirl and dance and leap high in the air, until every one within seeing distance was staring at the strange spectacle. and this, too, in a town where bucking broncos were a common sight. frank had gained his saddle, and was chasing after his friend, but just then the black had tak- en a notion to run, and apparently nothing in that country could overtake him while his present savage mood held out. " what ails the beast?" frank asked himself, as he drew rein and watched the other passing beyond range of his vision among the stunted mesquites outside of the edge of the town. “he strange actions of domino acts like a locoed horse; but there isn't a bit of the poison weed growing within twenty miles of here. and why was peg grant standing on the stoop of the tavern grinning as i rode past? can he have had a hand in this sudden crazy spell of the black? spanish joe knows all the tricks of putting a thorn under a saddle, that will stab the horse when the rider mounts. is that the trouble now? if it is then it's lucky my chum knows as much as he does about managing a horse, or he would never come back alive from that mad ride. and all i can do is to sit here, wait for his re. turn, and watch peg grant and his cronies ! ” chapter iii old hank coombs bears a message if there was one thing bob could do well, it was to ride. born in kentucky, where horses take a leading part in the education of most boys, bob had always spent a good part of his time in the saddle. hence, when he came out here to the plains, the cowboys of the ranch found that, in his owu way, he was well versed in managing the fine black horse he brought along with him. of course there were dozens of tricks which these daring riders of the plains could show the tenderfoot from the south; but when it came down to hard riding bob was able to hold his own. when his powerful horse bolted in such a strange fashion bob simply kept his seat, and tried to soothe domino by soft words. for once the remedy failed to produce any immediate effect. the animal seemed fairly wild, and tore along over the open country like mad. “he never acted like this before in all his life," thought bob, as he found considerable difficulty hank coombs bears a message in keeping his saddle, such were the sudden whirls the black made in his erratic course. but although he had by no means learned all the things known to old cowmen, bob had picked up quite a few points since arriving at the ranch. he had even heard of a mean trick practiced by revengeful mexicans, and others, when they wished to place a rival's life in danger. “something has happened to him since we went into that store,” bob said again and again, as he puzzled his wits to hit upon an explanation for the animal's remarkable antics. now, what could it have been? would any fellow be so mean as to fasten some of those prickly sand burrs under his tail? or perhaps it's a poison thorn under the saddle!” this last idea seemed to strike him as pretty near the truth. he began to investigate as well as he was able during the rushing of the runaway horse. when, in pursuing his investigations, he ran his hand under the flap of the saddle, he could feel the horse start afresh, and his queer actions seemed worse than ever. “that's just what it is, as sure as anything!" bob declared, his whole frame quivering with in- dignation at the thought of anyone being so cruel and treacherous; " but how in the wide world am i going to get at the thing?" his first impulse was to ease the strain all he saddle boys of the rockies could by removing his weight from the point where he believed the thorn to have been hidden. this he did by leaning forward after the manner of a clever jockey in a race, throwing pretty much all his body upon the shoulders and neck of the horse. then he again began to speak soothingly in the ear of domino. by degrees the horse seemed to slacken his wild pace. encouraged by this fact, bob continued the treatment. it appeared as though the intelligent animal must comprehend what was wanted, for, although evidently still in more or less pain, he gradually ceased his runaway gait, until, finally, at the command of “whoa!” domino came to a complete stop. bob was on the ground immediately. his horse was trembling with excitement and other bob continued to pat him gently, and speak soothing words. all the time he was work- ing toward the buckle of the band by means of which the saddle was held firmly on the beast's back. once he had a grip on this he made a sudden pull. domino squirmed, and for the moment bob feared the animal would break away. easy now, old fellow; take it quiet! i'll have that saddle off in a jiffy; and see what is wrong. softly, domino! good old domino!" while he was talking in this manner bob was causes. hank coombs bears a message releasing the band; and, with a sudden jerk, he threw the saddle to the ground. his quick eye detected signs of blood on the glossy back of the kentucky horse. “that's what it was!” he exclaimed, angrily. “a thorn of some kind, put there so that when i jumped into my seat my weight would drive it in. and i reckon, too, it would be just like the coward- ly sneak to pick out one that had a poison tip! oh! what a skunk! and how i'd like to see some of the boys at the ranch round him up! but i wonder, now could i find it? i'd like to get frank's opinion on it." the horse had by now ceased his mad prancing. this proved that the cause for his strange actions had been removed when bob cast the saddle off. and it did not require a hunt of more than two minutes to discover some little object clinging to the cloth under the saddle. it was, just as bob had suspected, a thorn with several points that were as sharp as needles, and very tough. bob put it away in one of his pockets. then he once more replaced the saddle, carefully ad- justing the girth so as to avoid any more pressure on the painful back of domino than was absolutely necessary. the horse seemed to understand his master's actions, and, although still restive, allowed bob to mount. cantering along over the back trail, in half an saddle boys of the rockies hour bob came in sight of his chum heading to- ward him. “well," said frank, as they finally met, “i was beginning to get worried about you, even though i knew you could manage a horse all right. it was a lively run, i should say,” as he glanced at the foam-streaked flanks of the gloss black. “ as fierce a dash as i ever want to take," an- swered bob, patting his horse gently. “ did you find out what ailed him?" asked the other. “after i'd spent some time trying to keep from being thrown, i did.” as he said this bob drew the thorn from his pocket, and held it before frank, who took the vicious little thing in his hand. “i thought so,” he muttered. “ that's peg's idea of getting even with us; the coward!” but you don't mean to say peg did that?" ex- claimed bob, astonished. well, not with his own hand. he wouldn't know how, you see; but he had a mexican cowboy along with him who is up to all these tricks spanish joe. when we were busy in that store, he crept up and fixed this thorn under your saddle. of course, as soon as you sprang into your seat, your weight just drove one of these tough little points in deeper. and, as the horse jumped, every saddle boys of the rockies mounted; but he's mighty near human, frank, i tell you. he just stood there, quivering with ex- citement, and pain, till i got the thing off. but do you know what kind of thorn this is ? ' “i know it as well as you would a persimmon growing on a tree in old kentucky; or a pawpaw. in the thicket. it's rank poison, too, and will breed trouble if the wound isn't taken care of in time. “that's bad news, old fellow. i'd sure hate to lose my horse," remarked bob, dejectedly, as he threw an arm lovingly over the neck of the black. “oh! i don't think it'll be as bad as that; especially since i happen to have along with me in my pack some ointment old hank coombs gave me at a time i fell down on one of the same kind of stickers, and got it in my arm,” and frank opened the smaller of the two packs ne had fastened behind his saddle. when the ointment was being thoroughly rub- bed into the spot where the barb of the thorn had pierced the flesh of the ainmal, domino seemed to understand what their object was. he gave sev- eral little whinnies, even as he moved uneasily when his mater's hand touched the painful spot. "now what's the programme?" asked bob, after he had replaced the saddle. 'just what we decided on before," replied his hank coombs bears a message chum;“ a little rest before we make a start. twenty-four hours will do domino considerable good, too. how did you come out about the duf- fle you were carrying; any of it get lost?” " none that i've noticed. i'll make a round- up and see, before we go any further," bob re- marked, examining the packages secured behind his saddle. “how?” queried frank, in the terse, indian style, as he saw that the other had gone carefully over the entire outfit. “everything here, right side up with with care. and now i'll have to mount again, a thing that may not appeal very much to domino. but it's lucky i long ago learned the jockey way of riding, with most of the weight upon the withers of the horse. in that manner you see, frank, i can relieve the poor beast more than a little." together they rode off slowly. really, for one day it seemed that the big black must have had all the running his fancy could wish. besides, neither of the boys knew of any reason for haste. as frank had suggested, it would perhaps be just as well to allow a certain amount of time to elapse, before pushing their intended investigation of the mysteries supposed to hover around thunder mountain. the afternoon had almost half passed when frank's sharp eyes discovered a single horseman saddle boys of the rockies riding on a course that would likely bring him across their trail soon. “seems to me there's something familiar about that fellow's way of sitting in the saddle," he ob- served; and then, reaching for the field glasses which he carried swung in a case over his shoulder, he quickly adjusted them to his eyes. “thought so," he muttered, and bob could see him smile as he said it. “recognize the rider, then? don't tell me now that it's peg, or one of those slippery cowboy friends he has trailing after him," remarked bob. “here, take the glasses, and see what you think,” replied the other, laughingly. no sooner had the kentucky lad taken a single good look than he called out: who but old hank coombs, the veteran cow puncher of the southwest! i suppose your father has sent him on an errand, frank.” just as likely as not, because he trusts old hank more than any man on the entire ranch. you can see he's headed in a line that will fetch up at the circle ranch by midnight, if he keeps galloping on. look there, he sees us, and is waving his arm. yes, he's changed his course so as to meet us, bob." “but if we needed the glass to find out who he was, how does it come that an old man like hank could tell that we were friends, at such a saddle boys of the rockies ly hot, the mountains so lofty, and the prairies so picturesque. "ain't headin' toward home, are ye, frank?” was the first question hank asked, as they all merged together, and rode slowly onward in com- pany. “ohl not thinking of such a thing, hank," re- plied the boy. "why, we only left the ranch yes- terday, you know, and meant to be away several days, perhaps a week. but i'm glad we ran across your trail right now, hank, because you can take a message to dad for me." glad to do that same, frank," the veteran cowman replied, and then added: “but jest why are ye headin' this way, might i ask? it's a wild kentry ahead of ye, and thar be some people as don't think it's jest the safest place goin', what with the pesky cattle-rustler crowd as comes up over the mexican border to give the ranchers trouble; and sometimes the injuns off their reser- vation, with the young bucks primed for a scrap." “is that all, hank?" asked frank, turning a smiling face upon the old rider. hank moved uneasily, seeming to squirm in his saddle. “no, it ain't,” he finally admitted, with a half grin; "that's thunder mounting about twenty mile ahead o' ye. none o'us fellers keers a heap 'bout headin' that-a-way. twice i've been 'bliged to explore the canyons thar, arter lost cattle; but hank coombs bears a message “sure,” i never did hanker 'bout the job. it's a good place to keep away from, frank.” “you don't say, hank!' chuckled the boy. “too bad; but you see that's just the very place we expect to head for to-morrow, thunder mountain!" the old man looked closely at him, and shook his head. “i don't like to hear ye say that, frank,” he muttered, uneasily; "an' i kinder reckons as how yer father'll feel oneasy when i tell him what yer up to. 'cause, i opine, ye wants me to carry thet same news back home; don't ye?" answered the other, laughing. “ that's what i meant when i said i was glad we'd with you, hank.” but ye didn't expect to take a turn thar wheni ye left home, did ye?" the veteran cowman went on. “never entered my head, hank. fact is, we weren't thinking of thunder mountain up to an hour or two ago, when we ran across peg grant, who was in town with his two followers, spanish joe and nick jennings.” “the wust as ever throwed a leg over leather," muttered hank, between his teeth. “ we been talkin' it over, some o' us boys, an' 'bout kim to the conclusion as how them fellers must be in touch with the mendoza crowd o' rustlers as draps over met up saddle boys of the rockies the rio grande every leetle while, to grab a bunch o'long horns." “my opinion exactly, hank," went on frank. “but listen till i tell you what they are thinking of doing about finding out the secret of thunder mountain.” quickly he related the incident of their meeting peg, and of his boast. “they'll never do it, mark me,” declared hank, after he had been put in possession of the main facts. “ thet noise ain't human! i been a- hearin' it for the last forty years, an' i give ye my word it's gittin' wuss right along. the reds believe as how it's the voice of the great spirit talkin' to 'em. an' honest now, frank, thems my sentiments to a dot.” “in other words, hank, you believe the moun- tain is haunted, and that anyone bold enough to wander into the unknown country that lies back there is going to get into a peck of trouble?” frank asked, seriously. “reckon as how that kivers the ground purty well," replied the cowman, grimly. “well," frank went on, we happen to believe something different, and we mean to look into the thing a bit. it wouldn't surprise me to find that some sharp crowd has been taking advantage of the bad name thunder mountain has always had, to hide among those canyons. and, hank, i'm hank coombs bears a message going to look for the trail of some cattle while i'm there!" "which i take it to mean,” hank continued thoughtfully, “ that you kinder think them rustlers might be usin' the ha'nted mounting for a hiding place to keep the cows which they run away with? um! wa'al now, i never thort o' that afore. but stands to reason no mexicans'd ever have the nerve to go whar white cowmen kept away from.” “not unless they had solved the strange mys- tery of the mountain, and no longer saw any rea- son to be afraid of the thunder. but listen while i tell you something else that happened to my friend here." frank then described the sudden bolt of dom- ino. at his first words the experienced western man looked wise. he had immediately guessed what caused the unexpected action of the usually tractable black horse. “as low down a trick as was ever carried out," he remarked, finally, as he looked at the thorn. “and jest sech as thet sneakin' coyote, spanish joe, would be guilty of tryin'. i've seen it done more'n a few times; and twict the critter was rounded up, and treated like he'd been a hoss thief; 'case ye see, in each case 'twar a woman as rid the animile as got the thorn. but ye must let me rub somethin' on thet wound right away, bob." “don't bother," sang out frank, cheerfully; saddle boys of the rockies “because we happened to have with us that oint- ment you gave me, and i used it a while ago. i'll put on more to-night when we get the saddles off, and once again in the morning." “then ye mean to go into camp soon?” in- quired hank. “see that timber over yonder, where a stream runs? we'll settle down for the night there. better hold over with us, hank, unless you're in a terrible hurry to get back home," frank observed. i'd like to fust rate, frank; and p'raps thar aint no sech great need o' gittin' back to the ranch to-night. yes, i'll hang over. p'raps i kin coax ye to give up that crazy ijee 'bout thunder mount- ing." and when they had settled down under the trees, with the westering sun sinking toward the horizon where, in the far distance, frank pointed out to his chum the towering peak toward which they were bound, old hank did try to influence his employer's son into giving up his intended trip. it was useless, however. frank had made up his mind, and obstacles only served to cause him to shut his teeth more firmly together and stick to his resolution. and so they spent the night very, comfortably, under the twinkling stars. “tell dad not to worry about us at all, hank," frank said to the veteran, on the following morn- hank coombs bears a message ing, as they were bidding him good-bye. "we'll turn up all right in the course of a few days. and perhaps, who knows, we might be able to tell you all about the queer noise that shakes the earth every little while around the big uplift. so-long, hank!" the old cowman sat in his saddle, and looked after the two boys as their horses went prancing away, each of the riders turning once or twice to wave a jolly farewell, with uplifted hats. as fine a pair o' happy-go-lucky boys as ever drawed breath,” hank muttered, as his eyes fol- lowed their vanishing forms beyond the mesquite thicket. “ but i sure feel bad 'bout them goin' into that 'ere thunder mounting territory. i hopes mr. haywood'll start out with a bunch o' cowmen to round 'em up. but he thinks that frank kin hold his own, no matter what comes along. if he don't show signs o' bein' worried, i'm goin' to see if the overseer, bart heminway, won't take the chances of sendin' several of us out to hunt for strays; an' it'll be funny now, how, them mavericks all run toward thunder mount- ing." chuckling, as if the new idea that had appealed to him gave him considerable satisfaction, the old cow-puncher stirred his little bronco into action, and was soon galloping away. but, more than a few times, he might have been observed to turn in saddle boys of the rockies to be too sure; but somehow, bob, i just have a notion that it was a horse." “with a rider on it, of course!” exclaimed the other lad, as he raised the glasses to his eyes, train- ing them on the further end of the squat elevation that stood up in the midst of the sage level like a great hump on a camel. “there, looks like i was right, bob!" ejacu- lated frank, a minute or so later, as something came out from behind the low hill, moving steadily onward. “ indians! as sure as anything!" fell from the lips of the one who held the field glasses to his eyes. “one—two-three—a heap of the reds in that bunch, i reckon," muttered frank, watching with his naked eye; although the distance, separating them from the spot where the figures were passing steadily into view, was considerable. “say, these glasses are jim-dandy ones, all right! ” remarked bob, presently, as he turned to offer them to his chum, who immediately clapped them to his own eyes. “huh!” grunted frank a moment later, squaws along; each cayuse dragging poles on which they heap their lodges, blankets and such; reckon there's no war party about that, bob.” “i should think not, if what you've told me about the indians is a fact, frank. but look here, a note of warning what d'ye suppose they're doing so far away from their reservation?” and bob gripped his quirt, which hung, as usual, from his wrist, in cowboy fashion; and with a nervous slash cut off the tops of the rattlesnake weed within reach. “that's where you've got me, bob,” replied the one who had been brought up on a ranch, and who was supposed to know considerable about the life of the plains; “unless they've just got des- perate for a good old hunt, and broke loose. pretty soon the pony soldiers will come galloping along, round 'em up, and chase the lot back to their quarters. uncle sam is kind, and winks at a heap; but he won't stand for the injuns skipping out just when the notion takes 'em.” they sat there in their saddles a while longer, watching the long procession pass out beyond the low hill, and track along the plain through the scented purple sage. “navajos, ain't they?" asked bob, who, of course, depended on his comrade for all such in formation, since one indian was as much like an other as two peas to him. sure thing," replied the other, carelessly. “tell 'em as far as i can glimpse the beggars. and i just reckon now that's old wolf killer him self, ridin' at the head of the line, with his gay blanket wrapped around him. wonder what he'd say if he knew frank haywood was here, so far saddle boys of the rockies but you away from the home ranch ?" and frank chuckled as though amused. “do you know the old chief, then?” asked bob. say, do i?” replied frank, with a laugh. “remember me telling you how the boys on our place caught a navajo trying to run away with one of our saddle herds about three years ago, when i was hardly more'n a kid? well, i chased him with the rest of the outfit, and saw old hank throw his rope over his shoulders. he snaked the fel- low over the ground and through the short buffalo grass like a coyote, 'till he was punished enough; and then my dad made 'em let him go. just ought to have seen the way he folded his arms, stared at each of us, and, never saying a single word, walked away. i've often wondered if he didn't mean to come back some day, and try to get his revenge." “and that was the chief himself?" asked bob. just who it was," frank went on. "he'd left the reservation, and got too much fire-water aboard, they said; so he thought the good old days had come back, when a navajo always tried to get away with any horses he ran across. they say wolf killer used to rustle cattle long ago, till uncle sam put his hand down heavy on his tribe, and shut the lot up." “then, if he has reason to remember every- body connected with circle ranch in that way, i saddle boys of the rockies a threatened stampede, or the presence of cattle- rustlers. both boys were, of course, dressed pretty much as cowboys are when on the ranch; leather chaps” covering their corduroy trousers; with boots that mounted spurs; flannel shirts; red hand- kerchiefs knotted around their necks; and with their heads topped by felt hats, such as the men of the range delight in. slung to their saddles were a couple of up-to- date guns of the repeating type, which both lads knew how to use at least fairly well. of course both carried lariats slung from the pommels of their high mexican saddles. frank was accus- tomed to throwing a rope; while bob, naturally, had much to learn in this particular. “say," remarked the latter, who had fallen a trifle behind his comrade, "to see the way we're just loaded down with stuff makes me think of moving day in the old kentucky mountains. but no use talking, if a fellow wants to be half way comfortable, he's just got to lug all sorts of traps along.' that's right, bob," assented the other, laugh- ing. “and that applies in an extra way when he means to be out in the rockies for perhaps a week.” “no telling what he may run up against there, eh?” queried bob. “well, if it isn't a grizzly, it may be an ava- a note of warning lanche, or a cloud-burst,” remarked the boy who had spent his whole life in the open. “not to speak of indians, or mexican rustlers looking for a chance to drop down on some peace- ful ranch, and carry off a bunch of long horns; eh, frank?” sure; and a lot more besides, bob," was the reply. “but the sun's getting kind of low, you notice." “ in other words, we'd better be looking around for a place to camp, frank?' “you've hit the nail on the head," the other replied. suppose we hold up here for a bit, and let me take another squint up yonder through the glass.” “meaning at old thunder mountain?” ob- served bob, as his eye traveled upward toward the bare crown of the great uplift, that had so long remained a source of mystery to the entire com- munity. “yes. just look at the pinons growing up the sides like tufts, along with the funny looking clumps of stunted cedars. then you can see the aspens and silver spruce next. and over the whole outfit is a silence that beats the desert itself. whew! the closer you examine the place the more it impresses you." bob accepted the glasses after frank had used them and focussed them on the slope. “so that's old thunder mountain, is it?” he saddle boys of the rockies remarked. “well, i must say it shows up right well. i've tried to picture the place from all we've heard.” “but you don't feel disappointed, do you?” asked frank. "not a bit, frank,” his companion continued. “ i've seen some mountains, even before i came out here to your rockies; but there's something about this thing that just staggers a fellow. wow! but we'll sure have our troubles climbing that wild slope." “never could make it if it wasn't for the can- yons," frank added. "they all tell me that. here, let me put the field-glasses away. half an hour's gallop, and we'll jump off. that ought to bring us to the foot of the slope. here you go, buckskin; show us you're not tired after your day's run. whoop-la!” frank brought his hat down on the flank of the horse, accompanying the action with a real cow- boy yell. instantly the spirited steed bounded off, with bob's domino close behind, snorting, and giving eigns of astonishing animation. so they sped along, with clanking sounds from the various packages fastened behind the saddles; but after a few minutes both boys gradually drew upon the lines, knowing full well that their mounts had done a fair day's work already; and, besides, there was no possible need of haste. a note of warning “how's this for a camping place?” asked frank, as he suddenly brought buckskin upon his haunches in a quick stop. “suits me first rate,” replied his chum, after giving a glance around. " let's see if i remem- ber all you told me about what a fellow has to look for when he expects to go into camp. water handy, grass for the horses, wood for a fire, and shelter from a hidden mountain storm. what better could we ask, i'd like to know? is it a go, frank?" for answer the shorter lad jumped from his seat. his first act was to remove the saddle, and then, with a handful of dead grass, rub the sweaty back of the mettlesome animal, as every true son of the plains always does before he thinks of his own comfort. next he hobbled the animal, and drove the stake pin, to which the lariat was attached, deeply into the ground. after that the bridle came off ; and buckskin's first natural act was to drop to the ground, and roll over several times. bob was following this procedure with dom- ino. the intelligent animals seemed to under- stand just what the programme was to be; for af- ter rolling, they walked down to the little water- course to slake their thirst; and then set about eag- erly nibbling the sweet grass that grew all around. the two chums went about preparing to spend saddle boys of the rockies a night under the bright stars, with a readiness that told of long practice. bob, of course, knew, less than his companion about such things, but frank had often accompanied the cowboys on his father's ranch on their expeditions, and had even spent nights in the company of old hank, when off on a hunt for fresh meat; so that he knew pretty well what ought to be done to add to their com- fort. it pleased him to show bob some of the things he had learned. there might be no real reason why he should start a cooking fire in a hole he dug, rather than make a roaring blaze that could be seen a mile away; but bob was tremendously in- terested, and would never forget all that he learned. “besides," frank explained, after he had the small fire started, " it is easier for cooking, once you get a bed of red ashes; because in this warm country a fellow doesn't much like to get all heated up, standing over a big blaze." bob had, meanwhile, opened some of the bun- dles. one of these contained a small coffee pot, as well as the frying pan without which camping would be a failure in the minds of most western boys. “ look out for rattlers," advised frank, as his chum went to the spring hole to fill the coffee pot. “they often come to such places in dry season a note of warning we haven't had rain for so long now, that, when it does come, i expect a regular cloud-burst. that's often the way in this queer country, along the foot- hills of the rockies." hardly had he spoken than there sounded a sudden and angry whirr, similar to the noise made by a locust, and which frank knew only too well meant a rattlesnake! chapter v the voice of the mountain “hey! take care there, bob!" shouted frank, , starting up from beside his little cooking fire in something of a panic; for that alarm signal is apt to send the blood bounding through the veins like mad, whenever heard. “don't bother!" came the reassuring reply of the unseen bob, from a point near by; “i think i've got the beggar located, all right. say, don't he sing though, to beat all creation? he's mad clean through, all right. i'm looking for a stick, so as to knock him on the head." "go slow, and keep your eye out for a second one," advised frank, uneasily;“ because they gen- erally hunt in couples. that isn't a measly little prairie rattler either; but a fellow that's come down from thunder mountain." “nice warm reception for visitors, i should re- mark," laughed bob, immediately adding:"there, i've found just the stick i want. now, old chap, look out for yourself! i'm going to have that rattle of yours to take home, unless you give me the slip." saddle boys of the rockies soon a delightful aroma began to steal through the air in the immediate vicinity of the little camp near the foot of the towering, mysterious moun- tain; as some bacon sizzled in the pan, and the crushed berry from java boiled and bubbled most cheerily. besides, upon some splinters of wood frank had thrust small pieces of venison, the last fresh meat they had brought from the ranch. as the heat from the red coals began to turn these to a crisp brown, bob sniffed the added fragrance in the air after the manner of a hungry range-rider, or a boy with a healthy appetite. "seems to be plenty of game around here," he remarked. “i jumped two rabbits near the spring, and they went up the rise, as usual." “yes," remarked the cook," the place looks good for game, and you'd wonder why those in- juns passed it by, only i happen to know. ten to one there's a deer in that thicket of wild plum over there. and you can just believe an old griz- zly wouldn't want a better hang-out than up yon- der among the cliffs and crags of the mountain side." “but to return to our mutton, which after all is antelope meat, when do we start operations? i'm nearly wild, with all these smells, and never a bite. the water just drips from my tongue, i give you my word, frank.” the voice of the mountain for answer the other picked up the coffee pot, and set it aside for a minute, to let the contents settle. “grub's ready, bob,” he said, laughingly; “and i reckon we'll not bother banging on the frying pan with a big spoon to-night, range fashion. sit down, and get your pannikin ready for some of this bacon and meat. how does that coffee look?" say, it's got the color, all right, and if it only tastes half as fine as it looks you'll hear no kick coming from me,” replied bob, as he poured his tin cup full of the liquid. as the boys ate they chatted on various topics, most of which talk had of course some connection with the big cattle ranch they had so recently left. “i'd give a heap to know if peg grant meant business when he said we were riding to a fall if we thought we were the only pebbles on the beach." bob remarked. “oh!” replied frank, “ i reckon he's going to make a try to solve that thunder mountain puz- zle. but just think of a tenderfoot like peg let loose on that fierce slope up yonder; will you? perhaps he's here already," suggested bob. “wouldn't be one bit surprised," frank con- tinued, readily enough, as though he considered that a foregone conclusion anyway. “he and his cronies had time enough, unless peg changed his saddle boys of the rockies mind. he might be wondering what happened to you, and thinking how the x-bar-x ranch would be safer, in case some of our boys chased after him to give him the tar and feathers he de- serves for playing such a mean trick." ' but supposing they did come,” said bob; peg and spanish joe, and that other treacherous cowboy you told me about; we're pretty apt to meet up with them if we go prowling around here for the next few days." “ just so, and we'll try to mind our business all the time,” remarked frank; and then his eyes flashed a little as he continued: “but if they try any of their ugly little tricks on us, bob, they're likely to get hurt." " i'm with you there, frank," the other added, shutting his teeth in a determined way. “i can stand a certain amount of fun, and, i hope, take it the right way. your cow punchers said that when they hazed me, you know. but i certainly do ob- ject to any such rough-house business as fastening a poisoned thorn under a fellow's saddle.” “ that game has cost more than a few people their lives," frank declared vehemently. men draw the line at it. you noticed how angry old hank became when he heard about that same thing. but your horse seems to be getting on all right, bob.” sure he does. that ointment made by old “cow- the voice of the mountain asked frank, when silence again held sway for a brief period. “nary a cloud as big as your hand in the sky; and yet all that grumbling oozing out of old thunder mountain! looks like we might have the biggest job of our lives finding out the secret of that pile of rocks. there she starts in again, harder than ever. listen, bob, for all you're worth!” a second alarm what you said about the indians never hunting near thunder mountain. perhaps they believe all the game that hides along the slopes, and in the deep gullies, belongs to the great spirit, and that he'll punish any warrior bold enough to try and get a line on it. but see here, frank, do white men-cowboys, prospectors, and the like-believe this mountain is haunted ?" heaps of 'em do, and that's a fact,” replied the other, chuckling. “i've heard some of our cowpunchers talking about it more'n a few times; and you remember how old hank took it when we told him what we had in mind ? “they're a superstitious lot, as a whole, i take it,” bob ventured. “now, as for me, i never could believe in ghosts and all that sort of thing. if there ever came a time when something faced me that i couldn't understand, i just set my teeth together and vowed i'd never rest easy till i had found out what it meant." "same here, bob; and that's why i just jumped at the chance to beat peg out in his game. the funny part about it is why i never thought of this racket before. but perhaps that was because i didn't have a chum to stand back of me." “none of the boys on the ranch would go with you, then?” asked bob. “i should say not! even old hank would balk at that, and he's never been afraid of any. saddle boys of the rockies thing that flies, runs or crawls. it was old hank who taught me all i know about range life. he showed me how to shoot, throw a rope, and do heaps of other things a prairie boy ought to know. hank thinks lots of me, and honest now, bob, that gruff old fellow would willingly lay down his life for me." “i reckon he would," assented the other, readily enough. “but hank's a rank believer in the injun story of the mountain, and would never come here of his own accord; but to keep an eye on me, and stand between me and danger, he'd just crawl down the crater of a live volcano." “seems like the show might be over for to- night," bob suggested. “the row has stopped, sure enough," frank remarked, looking up at the dimly-seen outlines of the far-away crest of the rocky elevation, where it stood out against the starry heavens. “ you don't believe, then, that there could have been some kind of storm up there; do you questioned bob. well, it's sure a great puzzle," replied his chum, with a long breath. my eyes are reck- oned prime, but i can't glimpse any sign of a cloud that would bring out all that noise. a mys- tery it's been these many years; and if so be we can learn the cause for all that queer roaring that ? a second alarm shakes the earth, we'll be doing more'n anyone else has ever done in the past. “that's what we're here for, if peg gives us half a chance," remarked bob, with the healthy assurance of youth. “and as neither of us takes any stock in the fairy story about the manitou's anger, we ought to stand some chance of locating the thing; or 'bust the b'iler trying' as old hank would say. frank had crawled out of his blanket, and stood erect. “ what's on?" asked his camp-mate, presently, noticing that he was holding up his hand, after wetting his finger, a method much in vogue when one wished to learn the direction of the passing air currents. “southeast; and blowing strong a bit ago up there on the mountain, i reckon," frank re- marked. you notice we happen to be sheltered more or less down here, when she comes out of that same quarter?” “meaning the wind,” bob remarked. “yes, you're right, frank. but what has that got to do with the measly old grumble of the mountain, tell me?" “huh! i don't know that it's going to have anything to do with it," came the answer; “but we want to know every little point as we go on. and bob, just remember that the wind was com- saddle boys of the rockies ing out of the southeast; and a clear sky over- head!" “but look here, frank, you've heard your dad talk about this thunder mountain business, i take it?? “well, now, i reckon i have, heaps of times; but then you know, he isn't much on bothering about things that don't concern him. thinks he's got his hands full, looking after the stock, keeping tabs on the doings of those rascally mexican rust- lers, that have been running off batches of cattle every little while; and fighting that big syndicate of eastern capitalists, headed by the million- aire, mr. grant, peg's father, that wants to throw all the southwestern ranches into a close trust. “ but what i wanted to remark is this: you must have heard him give an opinion about this thunder sound?” bob persisted in saying. “oh! he thinks the same as several gentlemen did who came out here a few years ago on some business. they declared that once, hundreds of years ago, perhaps, old thunder mountain must have been a volcano; and that it still grum- bles now and then, as the fires away down in the earth begin to kick up some of their old monkey- shines.” yes, i heard one man say that," laughed bob. “he declared that there's going to be the biggest a second alarm rimpus some fine day, when the fires inside get to going out of bounds. then the whole cap of the mountain will go flying into a million pieces; and good-bye to any unlucky cow-puncher caught nap- ping near this place.” “well,” remarked frank, as he prepared to settle down again into his snug blanket," i reckon we're not going to be scared away by a little thing like that growl. unless we hit a snag, or peg grant and his guides break up our game, a few days ought to see us heading back to circle ranch with a story calculated to make the boys sit up. and take notice; or else" just pull up right there, frank,” interrupted his chum, with a laugh. “there's nothing going to happen to knock us out. if that same peg comes around, making a nuisance of himself, why, he's due for a nice little surprise, mark me. be. sides that; what could there be to make trouble? *oh, i'm not bothering my head over it, bob,' declared the other, as he dropped into the nest he had made in his blanket. “but say, did you take notice of the way our horses acted while that thing was going on?" “ just what i did," the other replied. “they must have been trembling all over. i could hear your buckskin snorting to beat the band, and paw- ing just like he does when he's worried. reckon they didn't know what to make of it, either, seeing a second alarm the fearful vibration of the ground that aroused the two saddle boys; but a far different cause. when bob sat up he found his comrade already erect, and apparently listening as though keenly alive to some approaching peril. " buckskin's uneasy, you see,” remarked frank in a whisper; "he's pawing the ground and snort- ing as he always does when he scents danger." as he said this, frank dropped back again, and seemed to place his ear to the ground, a trick known and practiced among the indians from the days of the early pioneers along the ohio down to the present time; since sound travels much bet- ter along the earth than through the air—at least, in so far as the human ear, unaided by wireless telegraph apparatus, is concerned. “a bunch of horses coming out of the north- west!" announced the prairie boy, almost imme- diately; " and we can't get our nags muzzled any too soon, bob." apparently the other lad had been coached as to what this meant. he sprang to his feet, snatching up his blanket as he did so. together they were off on the jump toward the spot where their animals had been staked out at the end of the lariats. arriving at the pins which had been driven into the ground each boy sought to clutch the rope that held his restlessly moving horse; and hand over saddle boys of the rockies hand, they moved up on the animals, the blankets thrown over their shoulders meanwhile. a few low-spoken words served to partly soothe buckskin and his black mate; then the blankets were arranged about their heads, and secured in such fashion that no unlucky snort or whinny might betray their presence to those who passed by. chapter vii the rustlers at a word from his master the well trained buckskin doubled up, and lay down on the ground. most cowboy ponies are taught to do this trick by their masters, and it is in common use; so that the punchers believe it is a poor animal that has not learned to roll over and play dead on occa- sion. bob, too, managed to induce his mount to do the same thing; but to make it absolutely certain that no unwise founder on the part of domino might betray them, he sat upon the horse's head, soothing him by little pats on his glossy hide. “i hear 'em coming,” announced frank, pres- ently. the sounds reached him against the wind, so that it was quite natural to believe the approach- ing horses must by now be very close. there was a confused pounding that could only spring from a large body of animals. the trained ear of frank caught a significance in the clash of hoofs that told him much more than bob was able to make out. saddle boys of the rockies “ all horses, bob,” he whispered across the lit- tle gap that separated him from his chum; " and two thirds of 'em running free, without saddles or riders. lie low, now, and see if you can glimpse 'em as they go past." “won't they be apt to run over us?” asked bob, a bit nervously. * nixy. i looked out to pick a place they'd be apt to avoid. they'll brush past a little further to the south," and frank ended his words with a hiss of warning. the pounding of many hoofs continued. frank, straining his eyes, believed he was now. able to make out a confused moving mass at some little distance away, heading directly toward the foot of thunder mountain. as the starlight was so vague he could not make out more than that here and there a figure was mounted on a galloping horse, with several unridden animals trailing along behind, as though led by ropes. the little caravan passed quickly. already they were vanishing in the deeper shadows lying closer to the base of the mountain that towered aloft several thousand feet. still the two boys continued to sit there, guard- ing their horses; although all danger of discovery, seemed absolutely past. “whew!” exclaimed bob, presently, as the the rustlers con- sound of retreating hoofs began to die away; “what d'ye think of that, eh, frank? ” “ indians ? ” queried the kentucky boy, eagerly. “well," replied his chum, “not so's you could notice. say, now, you didn't see any feathers on their heads, did you? and i sure heard the fel- low nearest us say something that only a white man would remark, when his horse stepped into a hole, and almost threw him over its head." “cow punchers; or perhaps rustlers ? " tinued bob, anxious to know. “what would cowmen be doing away off here, tell me that, bob? and lugging along a bunch of extra mounts, too, in the bargain? no, i rather think, bob, that those fellows must have some of mendoza's cattle rustlers. and they've been making a dandy raid on some ranch's saddle herd; or i miss my guess. perhaps the circle outfit had gotten care- less," suggested bob. “i sure hope not, for the boys have had plenty of warning; and i reckon bart heminway is some too good an overseer to permit such a raid. i'd rather believe it was the x-bar-x outfit that has gone and got nipped this time. but stop and think bob; what d'ye expect takes these cattle- rustlers over this way right now, headed straight for the canyons of thunder mountain?” “oh, i see what you mean!” exclaimed the saddle boys of the rockies taller lad, immediately. “perhaps the secret hid- ing place of mendoza and his crowd of cattle thieves may be somewhere around this same old rock pile. it'd be just like the tricky rustler to have a hide-out where nobody else ever came !" now, why didn't somebody ever think of that before?" ejaculated frank, in a tone of mingled surprise and disgust. * looks easy, doesn't it, after we've run across a clue?” admitted bob, laughing softly. “you remember what they said about discovering america, after columbus did it. but supposing this thing does turn out to be true; how's it going to affect our little business, frank? oh! say, i wonder if that crowd can have anything to do with the rumbling of the mountain ? " frank laughed heartily at the suggestion. well,” he remarked, “they're a pretty tough lot, all right; but even such a bad bunch could hardly get enough hot air together to make a mountain shake and groan like that. besides, don't you see, bob, they must have been out yon- der, riding this way with their stolen horses, when that little circus came off." but one thing is sure," the other went on, sturdily; "they don't seem to take any stock in that notion about a volcano, because, as we saw, they headed straight for thunder mountain. that gives it away; they're so used to the row that they don't pay any attention to it any longer.” the rustlers “correct!" echoed frank, as though his mind was made up. “do we need to hold the horses down any longer ?” asked bob, who could feel that domino was becoming very restless under his enforced si- lence. “i reckon not," replied the other, at the same time taking the blanket from buckskin's head; whereupon the animal, recognizing this as a sign to rise, quickly gained his feet and shook himself. "it's back to the blankets again for another nap," remarked bob, when he, too, had seen his animal regain an upright position. “wonder what's next on the programme for us. twice, now, we've been waked up; and i don't know whether it's really worth while trying to get any more sleep to-night. it isn't a great ways from dawn, is it, frank ? " the other cast a quick look up at the stars. accustomed to reading these heavenly sign posts of the night, he was able, from their positions, to give a pretty fair guess as to the hour; just as the sun served him in place of a watch during the day. * three hours yet to dawn, bob; no use stay- ing up all that time,” he said, presently. “we expect to be on the move again at peep of day; be- cause, after what's happened, it'll be wise for us to get off the level here before broad daylight comes along. there might be curious eyes on the the rustlers blankets, there was no further alarm. frank, from long habits of early rising on the range, awakened just as the first faint streaks of dawn began to show in the eastern horizon. it required but a touch to arouse bob; and sad- dling up, with packs in place, the boys soon left the scene of their night bivouac, heading toward the heavy growth of timber directly at the foot of the mountain. the early morning mists concealed their move- ments until they had entered among the timber; when they left they were safe from any suspicious eye, should the bold mexican rustler have posted any watcher upon the side of the mountain. again did the saddle boys build a small fire in a hole, over which they proceeded to cook their breakfast; while the horses cropped the grass near by, secured by the ever useful lariats, or riatas. “ there's where this leads into a big gully," re- marked bob, later on, pointing as he spoke to where the ground became broken. “yes,” frank went on, thoughtfully, "and the chances are ten to one that it changes into a regular canyon, where the water rushes down whenever they have one of those gushers, or cloud bursts, that come along once in a while around here. now, i wonder if those riders hit it up this way?” saddle boys of the rockies 'feeding out of sight just now. doesn't he look sleepy and tuckered out though? see him nod- ding in his saddle, poor little runt! oh! what's that moving there among those rocks just ahead?” perhaps it may be one of the rustlers coming down to interview him," said bob. “ hist!" frank uttered almost in his chum's ear as he craned his own neck in order to see better. the small boy on the tired broncho, and lead- ing the patient burro, kept on steadily advancing, apparently allowing his animal to follow its nose, as though it knew the way fairly well from having passed along it before. “look! look!" ejaculated frank suddenly, jumping to his feet. “great guns! bob, would you see what is coming out from among those loose rocks there ? a great big grizzly bear; and making straight for the pack mule, sniffing the air as if he smelled grub! there, the horse has scented him. see him rear up, will you? oh! he's gone and done it, as sure as you live-thrown the boy over his head! and the poor burro is caught fast, with his leading rope held in a crotch of the rocks. the boy will be killed if ever he meets up with that monster! quick! we must do something to save him, bob, but whatever shall it be?” and frank leaped to his feet. chapter viii a startling discovery the mexican boy had apparently escaped serious injury at the time the frightened cayuse made a sudden bolt upon sighting the bear, and threw him over his head onto the rocks. the lad was already sitting up, and rubbing his knee in a dazed way, as if not fully under- standing what had happened. the pony rushed wildly away, heading up the wide gully, as though with a full knowledge of where it was going. and the poor little burro would doubtless have been only too glad of a chance to follow, if only it could break loose from the detaining rope. meantime the ugly monster, that had been the cause of all this commotion, was shuffling closer with each passing second, eager to strike down the burro with one savage blow from his mighty paw with its long claws, after which he could pro- ceed to help himself to what those various pack- ages contained. all this frank haywood saw in that one glance he shot toward the scene of action. the boy was apparently directly in the path of the hungry bear. saddle boys of the rockies and when his pony had fled in such a panic he must have also carried off the rifle, if the boy, possessed so valuable a weapon. thus the little fellow was at the mercy of the most feared wild beast to be found in all the ter- ritory between the atlantic and the pacific. a wild inclination to hurl himself between that brute and his prospective victim surged over frank. with but a knife, or even a revolver to back him up, such a rash act would have been little short of madness. fortunately it was not needed. “let me try for him, frank!” said a trembling voice at his side. and then, all at once, frank haywood discov- ered his chum was crouching close by, and that he was clutching a rifle in his shaking hands. how he had managed to get hold of the weapon frank could not even guess, because his own was a dozen feet away just then. now bob archer had certainly never before set eyes on a ferocious bear outside of the circus or museum. and doubtless that brownish-colored beast looked as big as a house to him, for he was very much excited. but he had true kentucky pluck, and even that circumstance did not make him quail. if the monster had seemed to equal two houses, still would bob have tried to do his duty. and just then it was to save that poor little mexican boy. a startling discovery the grizzly had advanced so rapidly that he was already almost upon the crouching boy, who stared at him as if in dire dismay, as well he might. it was not too late, even then, for the boy to have escaped, could he have understood the real situation, and that it was the food in the packs the bear craved, rather than his life; but he did not seem to realize the fact. they had seen him fumbling about his sash, and now he drew something forth that glistened in the early morning sun. why, the little chap had actually drawn his knife, as though that trilling bit of steel could avail anything more than the prick of a pin against that shaggy monster. the boy was shivering as with terror, but all the same he showed himself game. frank was amazed by the sight, and not apt to forget it in a hurry. but by now bob had stepped forward, uttering a sharp “hello” as he did so. his object, of course, was to attract the attention of the bear to- ward himself. this might cause the grizzly to change his course, and allow of a few more sec- onds' delay. it would also divert the attack from the helpless boy to one who was at least better armed, even though not professing to be a bear- hunter. frank aroused himself. he remembered that he, too, had a repeating rifle, leaning against saddle boys of the rockies the trunk of a tree not far off. he sprang to secure the firearm, in the belief that possibly his assistance would be needed in order to finish the dreaded animal. however good bob's intentions were, when he sought to draw the attention of the grizzly to- ward himself, they did not succeed as he had hoped. bruin seemed to know that a feast awaited him as soon as he could clear a way to that frantic little burro with the big load. and he declined to be turned aside on any account. seeing this, the kentucky boy dropped on one knee. he felt that he must find some sort of rest for his gun, since his shaking hands could hardly be expected to hold the weapon steady when it came time to pull the trigger. even as frank swept up his gun he heard the weapon of his chum speak sharply. the report was instantly drowned in a tremendous roar. looking, even as he drew back the hammer of his rifle, frank saw that the bear had finally turned away from temptation in the way of meat and supplies. he had started to rush bob, whom he evidently recognized as the cause of that sudden pain which had shot through his bulky body. bob was pumping another cartridge into the fir- ing chamber of his repeater. he seemed cool, although perhaps only he himself knew how his heart was pounding away like mad against his ribs. a startling discovery small chap, who did not look as if he could be much more than twelve years of age. his fea- tures were regular, if thin, and the big black eyes seemed to be filled with a courage beyond the ordinary. indeed, they could not doubt this, hav- ing seen how he had drawn that small knife on finding himself confronted by the rocky moun- tain terror. “well, we were only too glad to have been of help to you, lopez," frank remarked, as he ad- vanced with outstretched hand. the boy looked embarrassed, as though hardly knowing what to do. it seemed to frank that he had been staring very hard at bob, and he wondered why. then again he imagined that the boy must be keeping something back. this would account for the worried look on his small, pinched, but good-looking face. but undoubtedly lopez realized that it ill be- came him to decline to take the hand that had helped save his life. “ you understand that we are your friends, lopez, don't you u?” asked frank, as he held the small palm of the mexican in his own strong one for a moment, and looked with a puzzled expres- sion into the big black eyes that quickly fell under his gaze. “oh, yes, senor, surely you have proved it more than enough," the little fellow hastened to saddle boys of the rockies say; and frank was astonished to hear what good language he used. 'you go across mountains, eh?” asked bob, indifferently; truth to tell he was just then more interested in the size of the great grizzly that had fallen before the guns of himself and his sad- dle chum, than the mere fact of this stripling be- ing entrusted with such a task as bringing supplies to prospectors, or rustlers, as the case might prove. a flash crossed the face of the boy, just as though he saw a sudden opening whereby his pres- ence here might be explained without entering into details. “oh! yes, across the range. i get supplies for prospectors in camp," he replied, with an intake of his breath, while he watched bob narrowly, as if, somehow, he believed he had more to fear from that source than from the tawny-haired prairie lad. that's kind of queer, seems to me,” remarked bob, slowly, turning to again survey the boy;" for them to send so small a chap on so long a trail. i should think it was more of a man's work, tot- ing supplies across these mountains, through the canyons. and with the chances of running foul of such dangers as bears, not to speak of rust- lers." at that lopez drew his diminutive figure up, chapter ix what happened to peg “then you think the same as i do, eh, bob?" asked the saddle boy, as if pleased. “well, now a heap of things seem to point that way, frank,” replied the other, slowly. “only for the life of me i can't get it through my poor old head just why a girl like that would want to carry on in such a queer way.' “nor me, either," laughed his chum. " that's something else for us to lie awake nights puzzling our wits over. everything around this thunder mountain just seems to be plastered with mystery —who little lopez is; what he, or she may be do- ing away off here in the canyons of the rockies; and more particularly the mystery of the moun- tain that the reds look on as sacred; where men- doza and his band of rustlers have gone with those stolen horses; and also who the prospectors can be that this pile of grub was meant for-it's all a blank, that's what! "say, i guess that's pretty near the way it sizes up,” grumbled bob. “i don't like to run against saddle boys of the rockies a stone wall like this. if i was alone now, d'ye know what i'd likely be doing, frank?” “well, say, perhaps i might hit close to the bull's-eye, since i've come to know you pretty well these days, bob,” replied the other. “i wouldn't be surprised one bit but what you'd go rushing after lopez, and demand to know all about it. but bob, i look at it in another light. that's his own private business.” “i suppose so; and i was brought up to mind my cwn affairs, too,” said bob. “wouldn't you put up a great howl now," con- tinued frank, “if somebody grabbed hold of you, and insisted on your giving him the whole story of your life, where you were born, what your dad did for a living, when you cut your first tooth, how much it cost your father to let you gallop around the country in the saddle with me, and all that? say, honest now, would you knuckle down like a meek kid; or give the questioner to understand that he was poking his nose into affairs that didn't concern him one whit?" thereupon bob laughed heartily. “i give up, frank,” he admitted. " you go at a fellow, and put him in a hole as a lawyer might. we'll just let little lopez alone, no matter whether he's girl or boy; the grub-getter of pros- pectors; or agent for that sly mendoza, the cattle. rustler. and, on the whole, i reckon we've got what happened to peg about all the business we can attend to right now on our hands." that sure sounds good to me, bob,” said frank, turning once more to get his horse, the task of securing the grizzly's claws having been completed. naturally enough, while the excitement was on, both horses had exhibited the greatest alarm, even though they were out of sight behind some trees. the near presence of that terrible monster had caused them to strain at their ropes, prance wildly, and try in every way possible to break loose; but those lariats had been selected with a view to wonderful strength. after the death of the grizzly the animals had gradually quieted down. ten minutes later, and the two saddle boys were slowly picking their way along the gully, heading upward. frank, as one born to the coun- try, and familiar with many of its peculiarities, amused himself by pointing out to his comrade the various positive signs that as a rule marked these strange water-courses. “you see, bob,” he remarked, “ this is really what might be called a barranca." “yes, i've heard you tell about them before,”. observed the other. “ most of the year it's only a dry ravine, with high walls; but once in a while there happens to be a tremendous downpour of rain in the moun- saddle boys of the rockies tains, when a heavy cloud breaks against the wall above. when that comes about, this gully is go- ing to be bank-full of roaring, rushing water; and anything caught by the flood is apt to be battered and bruised and drowned before it's swept out below." “whew!” observed bob, with a shrug of the shoulders. “let's hope then, that the next cloud-burst will have the kindness to hold off till we get out of this hole. if it caught us here, frank, i reckon we'd just have to let our nags shift for themselves, and take to climbing the sides. and wouldn't i hate to lose domino the worst way; even if he does give me a raft of trouble at times?" frank patted the satiny flank of buckskin af- 'fectionately, as he said: “and it would just about break me up if any- thing happened to this fellow, bob. i've tried heaps of mounts, seeing that we always have hun- dreds on the ranch; but i never threw a leg over one i fancied like my buckskin. why, there are times, bob, when the game little fellow seems next door to human to me. we understand each other right well. he knows what i'm saying now; listen to him whinny, soft-like, at me." possibly bob, knowing considerable about horses himself, may have had a strong suspicion that the animal understood the touch of his what happened to peg young master's hand much more readily than he did spoken words; but this was a subject which he never debated with frank. the latter had a habit of talking confidentially with his horse, and seemed satisfied to believe the animal understood. slowly they made their way along. now and then frank would dismount to examine the rocks and scanty earth that formed the trail over which they were passing. “always plenty of signs to teil that horses have been going along here off'n on, both ways—stacks of 'em,” he announced, when perhaps an hour had elapsed since they left the scene of the encounter with the grizzly. the ravine, or gully, which he called a barranca, had gradually changed its character. it was now more in the nature of a canyon; though there were still places where the walls, instead of towering high above their heads, sloped gradually up- wards. “smart horses could easy climb out of here up that rise," remarked frank, thoughtfully eyeing one of these places. “are you thinking that perhaps we'd better get out with our nags, while we have the chance, and leave them, while we keep up the game on foot?" asked bob, suspecting that his chum might be considering such a move. well,” remarked the other, "it stands to rea- saddle boys of the rockies son that our horses aren't going to be of much use in the mountains. if we shook 'em now, we'd be able to climb almost anywhere, and peek into places we'd never be able to find as long as we stuck to our mounts. so, if you're of the same mind, bob, we'll try and find a place where we might rope 'em out, an' take the chances of find- ing 'em again when we're done poking around.” “i hope then, none of the rustlers will run across them while we're away,” said bob, as he looked across a deep little pool that lay just at the foot of a very high slope; and then fastened his gaze on a peculiarly twisted cedar that seemed to cling to the bank, half way up. leave that to me, my boy," returned his chum, confidently. “i'll make sure they leave no trail behind to catch the eye of a horseman rid- ing past. besides, we're not dead sure, you know, that the rustlers have really got a camp around these diggings. p'raps now, they just push through the canyon to get to some other point across the divide. or it may be a favorite trail for them to carry off the cattle they rustle. in some hidden valley, you see, they can change the brands; and then openly drive the steers to a ship- ping station on the railroad." “ all right, then,” agreed his companion, who was ready to put the utmost faith in any plan proposed by his saddle chum. “we'll keep our what happened to peg eyes peeled for a chance to get the horses out of this place. here's a slope they might climb, as you say; but it looks as if they'd have to swim that pool first.” “no use trying it,” remarked frank, casting a rapid glance upward to where, at a distance of possibly a hundred feet, he could see little bushes growing on the edge of the top of the rise, which slope formed an angle of something like forty- five degrees; “sure to be better places further on, where the holding is firmer." “and yet,” remarked bob, suddenly, “horses have made this climb only a short time ago, frank !" • what makes you say you say that?” asked the other, interested at once. why, there are tracks going up slantingly, you see; and even if i am next door to a green- horn i can tell that the marks look fresh,” bob declared, pointing. say, i take a back seat, bob," frank re- marked, laughingly. " that's the time you saw my lead, and went me one better. sure there have been horses climbing that slope-one, two, three of 'em. and lopez, he had only two; so it can hardly be him. i wonder now if that measly tenderfoot, peg- “look up yonder!" interrupted bob, sud- denly pointing again. “i saw the bushes moving threats of trouble think of a hippopotamus he had once seen in a tank. peg must have had his mouth open when he struck. perhaps he was trying to shout for some- body to stop him, and in this manner he swallowed a quantity of water. at any rate he spouted forth quite a little fluid as he floundered about, kicking and beating with feet and hands, as though he were being run by an engine that had gone wild. both of the saddle boys grinned. they could not help it, the thing looked so laughable. had it been a dear friend, instead of an enemy, they must have enjoyed the sight just the same. twice peg bobbed under, to come up again, paddling for all the world like a puppy that was having its first swim. his face had taken on a look of terror. "help! can't keep up much longer! some- thing pulling me down!” he spluttered. frank and bob exchanged a quick glance. of course this put quite another face on the matter. if peg was really in danger they had no business to stand there, laughing. it might seem funny to them, but to peg the matter was not at all com- ical. “i don't believe the critter knows how to swim, bob!” exclaimed frank. “that's what," answered the other, seriously. saddle boys of the rockies “he's just keeping up because he's crazy with fright. we've got to get him out of there, frank." we sure have; come along,' echoed the west- ern boy. fortunately frank was possessed of a quick mind. he never wasted any time in wondering what methods he should use in order to accom- plish things. the pool was of considerable width, and even though he bent over its border he would not be able to come within five feet of the struggling peg. without hesitation he stepped into the water, holding his gun. two feet from the bank and it was to his knees. but he believed he had now reached a point where he could hold out his rifle and touch peg. take hold, and i'll pull you out!” he called, as he extended the gun. it was laughable to see how eagerly the other seized upon the chance. and, when peg had fas- tened himself to the other end of the rifle frank easily drew him shoreward. the bully came out, dripping wet, and in any- thing but an angelic temper. it was bad enough, in his eyes, to have fallen into the pool; but to be rescued by a fellow he hated, as he did frank haywood, added to the aggravation. threats of trouble after spluttering for a minute or two, so that he could get rid of the balance of the water he had swallowed, peg faced the two chums. strange to say he did not seem to consider that frank had placed him under any obligations in the least when he dragged him out of the water. “see what you did,” peg exclaimed, now splut- tering with burning anger. “what d'ye mean pointing your old gun up at me, and making as if you meant to shoot ?" “oh!” remarked bob, elevating his eyebrows; was that what forced you to take that header down the slope? well, now, we had an idea you were so glad to see us that you just couldn't wait to walk down, but wanted to fly! but, if i was to blame at all for your trouble, i'm sure i'm sorry. but you see, we didn't know whether we were going to be held up by rustlers or indians. that's what comes from hiding, peg." “bah! guess i'll do just whatever i want," spluttered the other, wiping his dripping face on his sleeve without doing either much good, how- “and do you know what i think?" “well, no, i must say i don't happen to be a mind reader, peg. suppose you tell me," replied the unruffled bob, who had taken the measure of the other, and knew he might be set down as a great boaster, but one not particularly dangerous when it came to a show-down. ever. saddle boys of the rockies “ i believe you just did that on purpose, that's what,” peg went on, hotly. “you've got it in for me ever since that time we had our little af- fair, when i laid a hand on the mexican girl who sassed me. you just knew i'd jump up in a hurry if you made out you was going to shoot; and i bet you even remembered this lake at the bottom of the slope. oh! it worked all right; but don't you forget; my time will come. i'm going to pay you back in full ! i've got friends who'll stick by me, all right. bah! what're you two fellers doing here on thunder mountain, anyhow ? " a new suspicion had apparently seized upon peg. he viewed their presence as a personal in- sult; just as though they might have plotted to forestall him in the glorious adventure he had planned to carry out. “well, if the old mountain belongs to you,” spoke up frank, thinking it time he took a hand in the talk,“ we'll ask you to excuse us, and back out. but i don't think you have any claim on it; so we'll hang around as long as we see fit. and remember this, peg, we're going to mind our own business; but we don't stand for any bother from you, or those with you. understand that?” peg looked at him long and steadily. the eyes of frank never wavered in the slightest degree. “ all right,” said peg, finally, as his own eyes dropped. “you wait and see; that's what? this thing's been hanging fire a long time now; threats of trouble and some day we're bound to have it out, frank haywood. my dad's after yours with a sharp stick; and perhaps the trouble is going to come down to the next generation. you'll get yours good and plenty when the right time comes ! ” he turned away, and, limping to where the slope could be reached by skirting the edge of the pool, laboriously commenced to climb, following the tracks of the three horses. “there's one of his guides up yonder, frank," remarked bob; "sitting on the top of the bank. looks to me like he was grinning to beat the band." “yes, that's nick jennings,” replied frank. used to work on the circle ranch, but he got his walking papers because he was caught stealing from the other men. he's got a grudge against me because i'm a haywood. but nick likes a joke as well as any cowboy; and who could keep a straight face after seeing what happened here? look a little farther on, and you'll just glimpse the colored handkerchief spanish joe wears on his head.” “i see him peeping at us from behind the bushes," returned bob. “and say, he's handling that gun of his just like he'd be glad to use it if anybody gave him the dare. i reckon spanish joe is some ugly customer, frank." 'that's just what he is; but let's be moving if peg takes another flop and splashes in on. saddle boys of the rockies this puddle again, he'll have to swim for it, or else depend on his own guides to yank him out. no more for me. i'm wet to the knees; and did you hear him thank me for it? he's sure the limit." so the two boys went on. they were not interfered with, which pleased frank not a little. knowing the nature of span- ish joe, and the revengeful character of nick jen- nings, he would not have been much surprised had they attacked him and bob, and carried things with a high hand. presently a turn in the canyon shut out the scene of their late adventure. the last glimpse they had of peg grant, he had nearly arrived at the top of the slope, and it seemed possible that he would not make a slip that might cause him to repeat his recent circus act. why do you think they left the trail, and made their horses climb up?" asked bob, pres- ently. well, they might have talked it over just as we did, and chosen to leave the horses so they could look around on foot," frank replied. “but you suspect they might have another rea- son, too?” bob insisted. “that's a fact,” replied his chum, seriously. “for all we know they may have run across some sign of the rustlers, and thought it best to get chapter xi the black night at the “how does this suit you, bob?” frank asked this question as he and his com. rade sat there in their saddles, and glanced around peaceful scene. they had climbed the bank of the barranca, and reached a spot where the grass was growing under a cluster of mesquite trees. it looks good enough for me,” replied the young kentuckian. “plenty of forage for the horses," frank went on, nodding his head as he looked; " and do you see that little trickling stream of water that crawls along? all we have to do is to hide the horses here. when we want 'em, the chances are we'll find 'em safe.” “i hope so," remarked bob, as he alighted. in a short time they had removed saddles and bridles, hiding these among the neighboring rocks, together with their supplies, and had picketed the horses by means of the lariats. “now what?" asked bob. saddle boys of the rockies “suppose there was any truth in that fairy story about the fires away down in the earth here; don't you think a fellow might get a whiff of the brimstone if he was johnny on the spot? why, honest now, bob, it was on my mind to find some sort of cave up here, and go in just as far as we could. don't you see the point?' “oh! i reckon i do, frank. you take little stock in that yarn; but, all the same, you think we ought to look into it, now we're on the ground ? " “that's it, bob. why, even my dad kind of favors that idea, and i want to either prove it a fake, or learn that there's something to it." so they lay there, lazily enough, instead of climbing farther up the side of the mountain. it was very pleasant to keep in the cool shade of the trees, with that trickling little stream so near, for, as the afternoon advanced, it seemed as though the air became very oppressive. frank was looking up at the sky many times, and finally his companion asked him what was on his mind. “i don't pretend to be a weather sharp,” frank replied; "but, all the same, there are signs up there that've got me guessing." “well, it is clouding up some,” replied bob, as he swept a look around at what they could see of the arch overhead. perhaps the long drought is going to be broken at last, frank. your father saddle boys of the rockies the fact was, he had concluded, it would be safer for them to remain in hiding while day- light lasted, and do what searching they expected to accomplish in the darkness of night. it was too easy, for anyone who had no scruples, and wished to do them injury, to drop a rock down from the wall of the canyon. against this sort of attack their rifles would be useless; and terrible damage might result. as to who would be guilty of such an outrage, frank only remembered that peg was in a white heat of indignation, and fully capable of doing some madcap prank in order to frighten off the two saddle boys. he was also not a little worried about the rustlers, supposed to be lurking some- where not far distant. last, but not least, there were the prospectors to whom little lopez had admitted he was carry- ing the supplies that were secured on the pack burro. frank had not heard of any treasure- hunters having invaded the slopes and valleys around thunder mountain; but this did not mean it could not be true. if these men were secretly taking out possibly large quantities of precious ore, and did not wish to be discovered, or disturbed in their operations, even they might try to alarm the invaders by hostile demonstrations. it's as pretty a mixup as ever i heard tell of," the black night frank had said several times that afternoon, while they were exchanging confidences in connection with the remarkable possibilities around them. “what with the rustlers, peg and his crowd of thunder investigators, the little mex. boy and his unknown prospector bunch; and last but not least, bob, ourselves, it sure has me going some.' 'yes," the other had returned, “but i hope we'll keep clear of the whole lot, and be able to find out something worth while. i wish the next night was over, and we were galloping along over the plains headed for good old circle ranch." “me too, bob, always provided we carried with us an explanation for those deep grumblings that shake the earth, and seem to come out of the heart of thunder mountain. i'm a stubborn fel- low, as i reckon you know; and when i throw my hat into the ring i like to stick it through till they carry me out.” the same here," bob had declared, after which the chums had to shake hands on it again, thus sealing the compact to stick. and so the day went, and night came on apace. the air did not seem to cool off to any extent as darkness approached. frank took pains to call the attention of his comrade to this fact. “ you can guess what that means, bob,” he re- marked. “it's sure going to bring on a whopper saddle boys of the rockies before a great while. all the signs point that way right now. so we can expect to get ready for a ducking." “oh! that doesn't bother me," declared bob. “i've been through many a one. all i hope is that we don't happen to be in the old canyon when that cloudburst you mentioned comes along. i'm not hankering after a ride on a forty foot wave, and down that crooked old canyon, too. excuse me, if you please!” “of course if we only stick it out here, there's going to be no danger," frank remarked, indif- ferently. “i see that you're just itching to be on the move, old fellow," ventured bob, who knew the restless nature of his chum. “do you? well, bob, to tell the truth, if i was alone now, i suppose i'd be making for the top of the old hill, bent on finding out whether there was any sign of smoke oozing from the cracks and crevices at just the time the rumblings came on.” “then what's to hinder both of us going at it?" demanded the proud kentucky lad, fearful that frank might think him timid because he had suggested their remaining out of the danger zone. we may, later on. just now it's our business to get some supper; and hot or not, i'm going to make a cooking fire back of this big boulder, the black night where nobody could ever glimpse the blaze." • did you say coffee?” remarked bob. "all right, i'll go you, old fellow. i feel a little that way myself, and that's no yarn. so frank got things started, and it was not a great while before the coffee pot was bubbling as merrily as ever, with that appetizing odor wafting from it. the darkness kept on increasing while they ate. an hour later it was very black all around them, and bob viewed the possibility of their venturing into the unknown perils around them with any. thing but a comfortable feeling. it was just when he was wondering whether frank would not conclude to remain in the safe position they occupied that he heard his comrade give a sharp cry. “what have you discovered, frank?” asked bob, starting to get up. “a light up the side of the mountain yonder," replied the other, “and, bob, perhaps if we could only manage to climb up there, we'd learn some- thing worth while. the question is, have we the nerve to try it?" chapter xii losing their bearings bob chose to consider this a direct challenge. “i expect that it would be queer if we didn't make some sort of effort to find out what the light means. where is it, frank?” he remarked, with perfect coolness. well, it must have gone out while you were speaking, bob, as sure as anything," the other rer plied. “but i saw it, i give you my word i did. huh! there she comes again, just like it was be- fore. step over here; the spur of the rock is in your way there. now look straight up. get it?" easy, frank. a fellow might think it was a star, if he didn't know the mountain was there. now it's getting bigger right along.' “that's so, bob. and yet it doesn't seem to be a fire, does it ? " “more like a lantern to me," declared the kentucky boy. “say, what d'ye reckon anybody could want a lantern up there for? can you see any swinging motion to the light frank?" “it does seem to move, now and then, for a losing their bearings fact,” admitted the other, after watching the gleam for a short time. “ about like a brakeman might swing his lantern if he was on a freight train in a black night, eh?” continued bob. “hello! i see now what you're aiming at, bob; you've just got a notion in your head that the lantern is being used for signalling purposes." well, does that strike you as silly?” de- manded bob archer. “silly? hum! well, perhaps not, because it may be the right explanation of the thing. but whatever would anybody up there be signalling for, and who to, bob?" there you've got me," laughed the other. " i'm not so far along as that yet. p'raps it might be one of the rustlers, telling something to another of the same stripe, who is located in camp out yonder on the plain. then, again, how do we know but what it might be that peg grant lot? and lopez. don't forget little lopez, frank. prospectors could have a lantern; in fact, i understand they often do carry such a thing along with 'em when they go into the mountains to pan for dust in the creek beds." so,” said frank, who evidently was doing con- siderable thinking. they stood there for some little time, looking up at the light. bob was merely indulging in saddle boys of the rockies “well, it is for a fact,” he admitted with a littlė dry chuckle; for he felt really pleased to think that he had held out so long, and forced frank to "show his hand." “seems to me we ought to have struck some- thing," suggested frank. “do you really mean you think we've come far enough for that?" questioned bob. "i reckon we have, though it's so dark i can't be dead sure. you don't happen to glimpse any- thing queer around here, do you, bob?” and while speaking frank, perhaps unconsciously, lowered his voice more or less. “nary a thing,” replied the other, breathing fast, as if to make up for lost time. “and i don't get any whiff of smoke, do you? continued frank. 'oh! you're thinking about that volcano busi- ness again, eh?” chuckled bob. “nothing do- ing, frank. geel we must be up pretty high here!" “feels like it,” returned the prairie boy, ac- customed to the heavier air of the lower levels at all times. “makes me breathe faster, you know. but that was a hot old climb, bob.” “all black up yonder in the sky, with never a star showing,“ observed the boy from kentucky. “oh! we're going to get it, sooner or later,” declared frank, cheerfully. “ can't escape a losing their bearings ducking, i take it. but here we are, half way up old thunder mountain, and not a thing to show for our work. that's what i call tough!” got enough?” asked his chum, invitingly. “you mean of course for to-night only, be- cause you'd never think of such a thing as giving up the game so early, bob? " “well, i was only going to make a little sug- gestion,” returned the other. “ hit her up, then; though perhaps i could guess what it's like, bob.” “ all right then. you know what i mean- and that since we're away up here, we might as well make up our minds to hunt an overhanging ledge, and take a nap. but say, what're you sniffing that way for, frank?" just imagined that i got a faint whiff of smoke; but of course it was all in my eye,” replied the other. “was it? i tell you i had a scent of it myself right then,” declared the taller lad, showing signs of considerable excitement. seems to come and go, then, for i don't get it any more. what was it like, bob? did you ever smell sulphur burning?" “lots of times, and helped to use it too, dis- infecting,” replied bob, readily. “spent months with my uncle, who is a doctor in cincinnati, dur- ing an epidemic, and he often had to clean out saddle boys of the rockies “what? do you mean you smelled smoke three separate times since you left me?" demanded the saddle boy. i'm sure it must have been three, because it was between the first and second times that i tripped. yes, and always in just the same place too, which was queer enough. “that sounds kind of encouraging, bob," de- clared frank. “do you think so ?” asked the other, puzzled to account for frank's newly awakened interest. tell me why, won't you, please, frank ? " “sure, after you have answered me a ques- tion," frank promptly remarked. " all right, let's have it, then," his chum re- turned. “do you think you could find that exact spot again?" asked frank. “meaning where i sniffed that smoke each time? why, i guess i can, because i went back there twice, all right. couldn't be quite satisfied that there wasn't something around there i ought to discover. but it turned out a fizzle, frank.” "perhaps it wouldn't be so unkind to me, though,” the western boy declared. “take me to that place, bob, and right away. it strikes me i'd just like to get another little whiff of that same wood smell, myself. it wouldn't be the first time i'd followed up a smoke trail." losing their bearings “gracious ! that sounds interesting, and i hope you can do it, frank!” breathed bob, his ad- miration for his chum awakening once more. “ first of all, get me to that place. lead off, and i'll be close at your heels. and, bob, don't forget that spot where you came near having your tumble. keep your level head about you.' “i'll sure try to, frank. come on then." bob led the way through the darkness. al- though he had been out west for so short a time bob archer was rapidly learning the ways prac- ticed by those who live close to nature. he be- gan to observe always all that he saw, and in such a way that he could describe it again, in every detail. and so it chanced that, having marked his course when coming back after his unsuccessful search for the fire, he was able, not only to lead his comrade thither, but to warn him every time they approached a dangerous slide, where a trip might hurl one some hundreds of feet down the face of thunder mountain. here is the place, frank,” bob suddenly said, in a cautious whisper. chapter xiii the smoke trail “are you sure of it?" asked frank, in the same low voice. "why, try for yourself, and see if you can't get a whiff of smoke right now,” bob replied. “you're right, because i caught it just then; but i reckon the wind must be changing some, for it's gone again,” frank remarked. “you never spoke truer words, frank, be- cause i can hear the breeze beginning to shake the leaves in the trees up yonder, and it wasn't doing that before." bob pointed upwards as he said this cautiously. and frank, always watchful, noticed a certain fact. the trees were so situated that they could be said to lie almost in a direct southeast line from where he and bob stood! this might appear to be a very small matter, and hardly worthy of notice; but according to frank's view it was apt to prove of considerable moment, in view of what was likely to follow. "well, as the smoke's gone again, let's see if we the smoke trail can locate it by moving a little this way," and frank led off as he spoke, with bob following. both lads were very cautious now. even bob, greenhorn as he was, so far as western ways were concerned, understood the need of care when approaching a camp that might be occupied by enemies. and as for frank, he had not been in the company of an old ranger like hank coombs many times without learning considerable. they had not been moving in the new direction more than five minutes when bob reached out his hand and clutched the sleeve of his chum's jacket. “what is it?" asked the leader, stopping short, and crouching there. "i got it again, frank," whispered the ken- tucky boy, eagerly. “sure,” replied his comrade, immediately. “why, i've been smelling smoke for more'n a whole minute now. and i'm following it up, foot by foot." “oh!” murmured bob, taken aback by this in- telligence. “don't say a word above your breath, bob. whoever it is can't be far away now. we may run in on 'em any minute, you know," and as if to emphasize the need of caution frank drew his chum close while he whispered these words direct- ly in his ear. bob did not make any verbal reply; but he gave saddle boys of the rockies the other's sleeve a jerk that was intented to tell frank he understood, and would be careful. then they moved along again. it was no easy task making progress through the darkness, and over such rough grounds, with- out causing any sound. bob found that he had almost to get down on his hands and knees and creep, in order to accomplish it. but his chum had not forgotten that he was new to this sort of business, and hence he gave bob plenty of time. then bob in turn began sniffing, and frank knew that now he, too, had caught the trail-odor, which was constantly becoming stronger. thus they were positive that while they moved for- ward they must be gradually drawing nearer the source of the smoke. another tug came at frank's sleeve, at which signal he bent his head low so that his chum might say what he wanted in his ear. “sounds like voices !” whispered the excited kentucky lad. frank gave a little affirmative grunt. rustlers, maybe?” bob went on. the other made a low sound that somehow bob seemed to interpret as meaning a negative to his question. then prospectors-lopez and his bunch ? " “uhl" frank replied; and then himself lower- the smoke trail ing his lips to the ear of bob he went on: "what's the matter with peg and his crowd? they might have got up here ahead of us. quiet now! bob did not attempt to say another word. he had new food for thought. yes, to be sure, peg and his two cowboy guides had had plenty of time to climb that far up the side of thunder moun- tain. if they had taken daylight for the task of course they avoided the danger of getting lost, such as had overtaken the saddle boys. and if the nerve of spanish joe and nick jennings con- tinued to hold out, when strange things began to happen, the boastful tenderfoot from the east stood a chance of making a discovery. as the two crept closer, on hands and knees, they could hear the murmur of voices grow louder, even though the speakers were evidently talking in low tones. while the experience was altogether new to bob, he enjoyed it immensely. why, after all, it was not so very hard to place his hands and knees in such fashion that he felt able to move along almost as silently as a snake might have done. now he was even able to locate the spot from which the murmur of voices came. yes, and when he looked closer he saw a tiny spark that glowed regularly, just as a firefly might sparkle every ten seconds or so. bob solved that little mystery easily. of course saddle boys of the rockies it was spanish joe, smoking one of the little cigarettes which he was so frequently rolling be- tween his fingers. to be sure, the odor of tobacco smoke mingled with that of burning wood. and if spanish joe, why not the other cowboy who was in bad repute among the ranches; yes, and peg himself? bob began to wonder what the programme of his chum might be. surely they would not take the chances of crawling up much closer now. if discovered they would run the risk of being fired upon; an and besides, there was no necessity for such rashness. then bob discovered that when the wind veered a little, as it seemed to be doing right along, he could actually catch what was being said. peg was talking at the time, and grumbing after his usual manner about something or other. "ten to one the fellow's gone and deserted us, nick!” he remarked, suspicion in every word. apparently the lounging cowboy did not share in his opinion, for he laughed in a careless way as he drawled out: “oh! i reckon not, peg. me and joe has hit up the pace fur some years in company, and i knows him too well to b'lieve he'd break loose from a soft snap like this here one. jest lie low, an' he'll be back. let's hope joe's found out somethin' wuth knowin'." the smoke trail " but he's been gone nearly an hour now,” complained peg. “ what of that? it ain't the easiest thing get- tin' around on this rocky ole mounting in the pitch dark, let me tell ye, peg," nick remarked; and by the way he seemed to puff between each few words, bob understood that it must be nick who was using the cigarette, and not spanish joe. “say, that's so," admitted peg, as it a new idea had come to him. “perhaps he's slipped, and fallen down into one of those holes you showed me when we were coming up!" this also amused the cowboy, for he chuckled again. "too easy an end for spanish joe," he said, carelessly. “born fur the rope, and he can't cheat his fate. same thing's been said 'bout me. don't bother me none, though, and sometimes it's a real comfort; 'specially when a landslide carries ye down the side of a mounting like a railroad train, like i had happen to me. nawthin' ain't agoin' to hurt ye if so be yer end's got to come by the rope." a landslide! do they often have that sort of thing out here?” asked peg, showing some anxiety, as though he had read about such terrible happenings, and did not care to make a close ac- quaintance with one. sure we does, every little while,” remarked the smoke trail end, for peg certainly gave evidence of increas- ing uneasiness. “but why didn't you tell me all this before ?" he demanded, indignantly. " what was the use, boss? ye was sot on comin' here, and ye made joe and me a rattlin' good offer. 'sides, it didn't matter much to me. i had my life insured. a rope might have skeered me; but say, i don't keer that for land- slips," and nick snapped his fingers contemptu- ously. but frank, who knew the sly cow puncher so well, believed that more or less of his indifference was assumed. 'well, i do!” declared peg, with emphasis; and if i'd only known about that sort of thing before, blessed if i'd a come. i've heard what happens when the side of a mountain tears away, and how everything in the path goes along. they showed me the bare wall where one broke loose up in colorado. say, it was the worst sight ever. you'll have to excuse me from nosing around here another day, if that sort of thing is hanging over this place. me for the ranch on the jump. get that, nick?" “oh! now, what's the use botherin'? chances are three to one they ain't agoin' to be any sech upsets as that yet awhile,” the cowboy said. only three to one! burst out peg. “all saddle boys of the rockies right, you can stick it out if you want, and i'll pay you all i agreed; but just you understand, nick jennings, when to-morrow comes, i want you to get me down on the prairie, where i can make a blue streak for the x-bar-x ranch house." but ye sed as how ye was detarmined to find out what made them roarin' n'ises, up here on old thunder mountain!” protested the guide, al- though he evidently expressed himself in this way only to further arouse the obstinate boy. “i've changed my plans, that's all," peg an- nounced. “any fellow can do that. it's always the privilege of a gentleman to alter his mind. i'd like to crow over frank haywood and that greenhorn chum of his mighty well; but i ain't going to run the chance of being carried down in a landslip just for that. huh! i guess not! what i said, stands, nick. and i hope the old slide comes while those two chaps are on the mountain; yes, and gives them a dandy free ride, to boot!" “ohl jest as ye say, peg! i'm willin' to do anythin' to please ye. but p'raps we ain't goin' to git off so easy arter all," remarked nick, sug- gestively. “now, what do you mean by hinting in that way? and i've noticed you twisting your neck to look up at the sky more'n a few times. think it's going to rain, do you?" demanded peg. "don't think nawthin' 'bout it; i know it be." chapter xiv a call for help oh! what shall we do, nick ? " cried peg. his voice was now quivering with fear. evi- dently whatever little courage the fellow pos- sessed, or the grit which had caused him to start upon this mission of attempting to discover the cause of the mystery connected with thunder mountain, had suddenly disappeared. “nawthin' 'cept stick it out, i reckons,” re- plied nick jennings. the superstitious cowboy was more or less anxious, himself. frank, eagerly listening, could tell this from the way in which the fellow spoke. but nick did not mean to fall into a panic. to try and rush down the precipitous side of that mountain in the dark would be madness. and with all his faults nick was at least smart enough to understand what it meant by “jumping from the frying pan into the fire.” another roar, louder than any that had yet broken forth, interrupted the excited conversa- tion between the son of the mining millionaire and his guide. the whole mountain quivered. bob saddle boys of the rockies than any “oh stop joking, nick, and talk sense,” com- plained peg. “we've just got to do something. why, the old mountain might take a notion to slide, and carry us along with it." “i sure hopes not, at least right now," replied nick, uneasily. “but i do reckons as how we're agoin' to git that storm afore mornin'." “but see here, nick," peg went on, anxiously; “ didn't you notice anything when you were lead- ing me up here like a lamb to the slaughter? i mean, you ought to have seen whether this side of the old mountain was more likely to drop off other." “ye never kin tell nawthin' about such things," returned the cowboy. “reckons all we kin do is to root around, an' see if we might find some sorter cave, where we'd be safe from the rain, if so be she comes arter a while." “a cave!" echoed the other, as though startled. “what under the sun do we want to get inside the mountain for? don't you under- stand that all that noise is coming out of this old thing? i tell you, i believe it is a volcano, just as they told me, and perhaps she's going to break loose this very night!” "hey! what ye a sayin' that for?” demanded nick. supposin' she is what ye tell, that ain't any reason the explosion's got to come this particular night, is it? she's kept on a growling a call for help " i've got a strong suspicion, bob," he said, finally; "and it's something that came into my mind since feeling the sound, for that's the only way i can express it. now, what does it make you think of, most of all?” “i did think it was thunder," declared bob; “but now it seems to me the only thing i can com- pare it to is the beating of the terrible billows against the coast away up in maine, when a fierce northeast storm is blowing. they seemed to make the rocks quiver just as this does now." if frank had intended to reply to this remark he was prevented by something unexpected that happened just then. this time it was not the furious roar of the unknown force within the mountain that disturbed him; but a cry that rang out shrilly. “help! help!” bob clutched his companion's arm. something has happened to peg!” he ex- claimed." perhaps the guide has thrown him over, and he's lost, and scared nearly to death!" but frank was more accustomed to reading voices in the open than was his chum. “no, you're wrong there!” he cried, " that's spanish joe yelping; and he must be in a bad hole to call for his companions. come on, bob, we've just got to see what we can do to help him. rascal that he is, he's human. follow me!" chapter xv spanish joe drops a clue "where can he be, frank?" cried bob, after they had been climbing for several minutes up the side of the rough mountain, almost groping their way, such was the darkness around them. “listen!" "help! nick, this way, quick, or i'll go un- der!" came a shrill shout, only a little way above them. they started for the spot; but before they had taken half a dozen steps once more the thunderous sound was heard; and under them the mountain quivered. as the boys were not more than human, it was only natural that they should halt until the convulsion had passed. bob could not help clutching a spur of rock as though he feared that something dreadful was about to happen. as the roaring noise began to die out the boys caught the cries of spanish joe once again. he seemed to be nearly frantic with fear, and was calling upon his cowboy crony not to forsake him in his extremity. spanish joe drops a clue “it's going to tumble on me the next shake! hurry, nick, or i'm a goner!” they heard him pleading “whatever can have happened to him?" asked bob, awed by the exciting incidents by which they seemed to be surrounded. “i reckon he's caught in some sort of trap, judging from his talk,” frank sent back over his shoulder; for both of them were climbing upward as rapidly as the conditions allowed. it was no wonderful feat for frank to make straight for the spot where the loud voice came from. he had located it; and even when joe ceased calling for a minute or two, frank was able to continue right on. apparently the cowman had heard some sound that told him of their coming. that accounted for his silence, since he was listening eagerly. and of course he fully expected that it must be nick jennings hastening to his assistance, per- haps with peg at his heels. at least his words would indicate as much, when he cried again. hurry, boys! there ain't any too much time. this way, right straight ahead! oh! i'm in a hole, i tell ye. ye ain't stopping, are ye? come onl come on! they were now close to where the speaker must be located. frank was already straining his eyes to make out his figure, so as to get some spanish joe drops a clue ment into the countenance of the one who had come in answer to his frantic calls for assistance. “you, senor frank?” he exclaimed. sure," replied the rancher's son, as he bent over to examine the way in which the prisoner's foot bad become caught. although the match only shone for a few sec- onds, frank's quick eyes had sized up the situa- tion. “how is it, senor frank; can you get me out, camerado?" asked joe, with a quiver in his voice. something of a desperado the man might be un- der ordinary conditions; but just then, when fac- ing death, he proved very tame indeed. “i reckon i can, joe, if that tottering rock there only holds off long enough. let's hope it will. now, do just what i tell you; and when i say pull, again, get busy for all you're worth i" while frank was talking he had been mani- pulating the foot of the mexican, who had worked so long on american ranches that he had lost much of his national ways, though retaining a few of the characteristics of dress that always dis- tinguish his kind. frank himself was not wasting time. he did not like the looks of that over-hanging rock any too well. it seemed to be about ready to crash down, and when it did come the result would be up saddle boys of the rockies disastrous to anything human caught under- neath; for it surely weighed many tons. “now, draw easily at first, and then increase gradually," frank said. “i'll hold onto the foot, and keep it in this position. i think that's the way it first slipped into the crack!" spanish joe eagerly obeyed. he groaned sev- eral times as he felt his leg hurt, but desperation lent him new determination; for if this attempt failed, as others had done, he believed that he was doomed. suddenly the foot came free. joe fell over on the ground, but his last groan turned into a cry of delight. it was almost comical to see how quickly he rolled over several times, so as to get away from the danger zone. frank, turning, clutched his companion, and also drew him back. it was none too soon, it seemed. as if the release of spanish joe might have been the signal for the groaning mountain to once again take up its strange action, they felt the quiver with which all the performances seemed to begin. then the grumble commenced, rapidly advancing into a fearful stage, until bob could feel himself trembling violently because the rocks under him were moving. “there she comes !" cried frank. his words were drowned in a deafening crash close by. had peg grant been there he must spanish joe drops a clue have believed that the top of the mountain had blown off, and that fire and boiling lava would immediately begin to pour down the sides. but bob had not forgotten about that swaying rock. and he understood that it had fallen with a crash just at the spot where the three of them stood a minute before. "what a narrow escape!” exclaimed frank, after the clamor had in some measure died away, again. oh! i should say it was," echoed bob, feel. ing quite weak as he realized what must have happened to them had they not gotten away in time. “how about your leg, joe; can you walk?" asked frank, turning to the cowman, who was scrambling to his feet close by. “seems like i can, senor frank. but it was a close call for spanish joe. only for you com- ing, where would i be right now? let us get away from here!” exclaimed the man, limping around as he tried his crippled limb. “ you are free to go, if you want, joe," re- marked frank; "but bob and myself mean to stick it out. we came here to learn the cause of all this racket, and we'll do it, or know the rea- son why." "excuse me, companero, i know when i have had enough. this mountain is surely bewitched. saddle boys of the rockies there must be an evil spirit living inside. do i. not know it? and even the door is guarded by demons that spring at a man and tear him. my clothes, once so handsome, senors, are torn into tatters, just because joe, he was fool enough to step into that black opening above!” frank started as he heard the mexican say this. it seemed to him that possibly here was a clue worth following up. “tell us what you mean, joe,” he asked, quickly. “what black opening did you try to enter; and what happened to you, amigo? we have done you a service, saved your life, perhaps. in return, tell us this." “ it is little enough, senor frank. up above, not more than seventy feet from here, lies a hole in the ground. i was looking for shelter from the storm, because senor peg wished it. i en- tered. hardly had i taken ten steps than some- thing flew at me. i think it was a demon, for it had sharp claws, and i thought i could smell brimstone and sulphur. just then the mountain yawned, and what with the terrible noise, and having to fight off that unseen enemy, i climbed out of there fast, but with all my fine clothes ruined. that was why i came down the side of the mountain in such haste that i caught my foot. i thought that fury was chasing me. nothing in this wide world could tempt spanish joe to go saddle boys of the rockies the wall if you can," frank went on, calmly, so far as bob could know. “it'll help me get you up. climb over me. i've got a leg around a cedar, and nothing can break away. now!" "say, perhaps you'd better let me drop down.' said bob, thinking his comrade was going to un- necessary trouble in order to save him from a little jolt. climb, i tell you!" snapped frank. oh! all right, frank, if you say so," and bob started to obey. fortunately he was an agile lad, and a very fair climber, for the task which he had set himself was no ordinary one. but, by wriggling more or less, bob managed to finally get a grip on the cedar. after that it was easy work; and having succeeded in reaching solid ground himself, he aided the almost exhausted frank to draw back. “whew! that was some work, now, and all be- cause i was so silly as to slip over the edge of that little hole!” remarked bob, as though disgusted with himself. “look here," said his chum; “lean over care- fully, while i drop this match down." as he struck the match, and then cast it from him it went downward twenty, thirty, forty feet before it was extinguished. ugh!" shuddered bob, "why, it must be all of a thousand feet down to the bottom, frank! the vent hole in the wall it scares me just to think of the narrow escape i had." well, i reckon it's all of one hundred feet," replied frank; "and that's enough to settle a fel- low. but let's lie back here, and get our breath a bit before going on up. the cave can't be far off now, if what joe said is so." both of the boys were panting after their un- usual exertion, and bob was glad of a chance to rest for even a brief time. besides, another burst of thunder was starting in, and he fancied that it was louder than any that had gone before; just as if they might be drawing closer to the place from whence all this clamor came. the cave that spanish joe had found and en- tered—could it have anything to do with the mys- tery of the mountain ? frank seemed to think so, and was bent upon ascertaining the facts. “ listen to that, frank?” shouted the ken- tucky lad in the ear of his mate, while the racket was at its height. “i can hear rocks dropping all around, just like the one did where joe was grabbed by the leg. do you think this always happens when the old mountain breaks loose; or is this an extra big celebration ? " “i was trying to get that myself, bob,” ad- mitted frank; “but we can only guess at it, be- cause you see, nobody's ever been up here when the thunder was rocking the whole range, the vent hole in the wall " when lence of the unseen force that was making thun- der mountain shake, before frank stopped to let his chum reach his side, so that he might exchange a few sentences. “looks like that might be the hole ahead," he ventured. "i can see something that seems blacker than the night itself; is that what you mean, frank? ” asked bob. “ yes," his chum continued. joe pointed up this way i took note of just the line, and followed it closely. that was why we came so near the precipice. and if that is the opening to the cave, we want to lie here and listen." “why, do you really believe the racket comes out of that hole?" demanded bob, astonished at the very idea of such a thing. “wait and see," replied the other, confidently. “in the meantime, here's our opportunity to pick up a few candies that will come in handy." they had come to a halt directly under a tree; and bob had already discovered that the ground was thickly strewn with broken branches. some of these were apt to be fat with the inflammable gum that exudes from certain species of cedar, and would, as frank said, make splendid torches. frank was already on his hands and knees searching for suitable ones; and as bob grasped the idea he, too, set to work. the vent hole in the wall to do with an electrical storm. possibly the ob- serving indians had many years ago discovered this same thing; and it had strengthened their be- lief that the great manitou spoke to his red chil- dren through the voice of the wonderful moun- tain. it took longer, this time, for the noise to die away; just as though, whatever its cause, there was increasing reluctance to subside again. “that was a screamer, sure enough!” said frank, when he could make himself heard above the declining roar. “and bob, you noticed, didn't you, that it seemed to come right out of that hole? all right, it begins to look now as if we were johnny on the spot, if we've got the nerve to push things. somewhere in there, bob, lies the explanation of the mystery. do we take the dare; or stay out here and wait till the fuss is over before enter- ing?" bob possibly swallowed hard before replying. it was no easy thing for him to say the words that would thrust them up against so terrible a thing as this unknown peril awaiting them in the gloom of that crack of the great mountain. but his hesi- tation was brief. in fact, he only wanted to catch his breath, shut his teeth hard together, and sum- mon his kentucky blood. “it's a go, frank!” he said, with determina- saddle boys of the rockies tion in his voice; "the chance may never come to us again. let's go in, and discover for ourselves the secrets of the indian god they say is guarding thunder mountain. i'm ready, so lead on!" saddle boys of the rockies whew! you don't say?" ejaculated bob. “then something did get hold of him; didn't it, frank?” “ looked like it," admitted the other. “his jacket was torn into ribbons, you said- then i reckon whatever tackled joe had pretty sharp claws, frank!” bob continued. “i thought as much myself. in other words, bob, the man was attacked by some wild beast that has its den in yonder. in the dark, with all that terrible noise going on, joe thought it was a monster from the underworld. if he keeps on telling that story, ten to one, after a while, he'll vow it had eyes of fire, and a tongue of blue flame. joe was frightened half to death, and a man in that condition gets to seeing things that never did exist. now, how's that?" while speaking frank had managed to light one of the cedar torches he carried. the wood burned readily, and with persistence. it would make a good substitute for a lantern. indeed, bob was enthusiastic over the success attending his chum's effort. “couldn't be beat, that's what!” he cried. “well, there's nothing to keep us now," de- clared frank. “but what can i do?" asked the other. “want me to light a torch too, frank?" “no, one ought to be enough. you fall in frank holds the hot stick just behind me, and bob, perhaps you'd better keep your gun handy." “oh! you're thinking now of that demon joe told about, eh, frank?" perhaps. if it jumps out at us give a center shot, if you can,” the saddle boy advised, as he led the way forward toward the black spot which they had guessed must be the cave entrance spoken of by spanish joe. they were quickly at the wall, and had no diffi- culty in learning that, just as they had guessed, the yawning hole was there. frank, without the slightest hesitation, stepped through the opening. bob did likewise, holding his gun in readiness for immediate use. the light of the blazing torch lighted up the interior. they could see that, so far, there was nothing remarkable about the cave, save that it seemed to stretch away into dim distance, with various twists and curves. “what are you sniffing about, frank?” de- manded bob, who, in the silence, heard what his comrade was doing. “i think i scent something, that's all,” replied the other. “not brimstone and sulphur, i hope?" cried bob. "well, hardly,” chuckled the other. it seemed to me that it was only such an odor as " in fact, frank holds the hot stick frank was bending down. he held his torch in such a fashion that he could see better; and he appeared to be examining something on the rock. “what is it?” asked bob, eagerly; "foot- prints ?" “no, just a little spot of blood,” came the reply. “fresh, too, i can see," declared the tender- foot, as he looked. "does that mean this is the exact place where joe had his little circus, frank?" “i reckon it is," replied the other. “ then if that beast hasn't cleared out we might run across him before long!" remarked bob. “oh!" frank gave utterance to this cry. he had seen some object flash through the air, and knew it could be nothing else than the lithe body of a panther making a leap. the animal must have had a place of hiding close by, from which it had probably jumped upon the shoulders of spanish joe, and now sought to repeat that act. bob was struck by the descending body of the animal; and while he did not suffer serious injury from the blow, it jarred his arm, and caused him to drop his rifle. he instantly leaped forward to recover the weapon, but through chance picked it up by the end of the barrel. the panther had recovered, and was crouching frank holds the hot stick quite enough of the conflict. it was bad enough fighting two human beings at a time; but when one of them persisted in belaboring him with such a hot weapon he drew the line. and so with a parting snarl, that was full of defiance and venom, the panther sprang back out of sight, departing just as silently as he had come. “that's just like the luck," grumbled bob. “what's the matter now?” asked frank, look- ing sharply to make sure that the treacherous beast did not sneak back in order to attack them from another quarter. “why, i'd just got my gun slewed around, and was ready to fire when he skipped out. i'd liked to have bagged him, i reckon. a grizzly and a panther, all on one trip, would be worth talking about." “oh! i don't know that you'd have been so very proud over it," observed frank. bob looked at him as he said this. “now, you've got some reason for making such a remark as that," he observed. perhaps i have," answered his chum, nodding wisely. “then out with it, frank, and don't keep me wondering. besides, i reckon that we'll have an- other bellow from the old mountain at any time now." saddle boys of the rockies “i guess you didn't notice something queer about that animal, then, bob?" " about the panther, you mean?" came the re- ply. “well, to tell the honest truth i was knocked all in a heap when i missed hitting him, and didn't have time to bother looking at him close enough to see anything. but what was so funny about him, frank? did he have only one eye; or was he three-legged ? " “oh! nothing of that sort,” declared the other; so far as i know he is in possession of all his members. it was about his neck.' “what about it? did he have a rubber neck, you mean?" demanded bob, trying to be a little humorous so as to conceal the fact of his excite- ment. "the beast had a collar on!" frank remarked, positively; "and that means he must be the pet of somebody who has a hiding place in this cave!" chapter xviii a guess that hit the bullseye as frank made this astonishing declaration his chum looked blankly at him, the information having evidently surprised him not a little. “a tame panther, you mean, frank?” he ex- claimed, weakly. "that's just what i'm hinting at,” replied the other, positively. with a collar around his neck, too?" mur- mured bob. “yes. i saw it as plain as i see you now,' frank went on. “ it was when i jumped for- ward, and gave him the first crack that made him fall away in a hurry. a collar that was broad and stout. why, bob, when he threw back his head to avoid punishment i could even see where a chain could be fastened, and the animal kept in confinement." “whew! but he acted like a wild one, all right,” protested bob. “ he sure did, bob; but that was because he had already been stirred up by the fight with saddle boys of the rockies spanish joe. i reckon the cowboy must have give him a few jabs with that handy knife he owns. anyhow, the panther was spoiling for a scrap, and didn't care a cent how many there were. that was before you gave him his finish with that fire-stick, frank. didn't that knock the old chap silly, though? why, it took all the fight out of him, for a fact. he was the tame panther all right when he ran away, with his tail between his legs. think he'll tackle us again ? " “no telling; but i don't believe the beast cares much for running against my torch again. it might pay for both of us, though, to keep on the watch," frank replied, always on the side of cau- tion. “but i say, frank, is the fact that he's private property going to make any difference; that is, do i shoot straight if i get the chance again?' "well, i say yes,” answered the other. given half a chance and he'd maul us the worst way. no matter who's property he may be, i'd advise him to keep clear of haywood and ar- cher. they're marked, dangerous—hands and claws off, but come along, bob; let's be moving.” “wait, there it comes again, frank. don't you think we'd better lie down till the worst is over?” ventured bob, as he caught the opening notes of the mighty anvil chorus that would soon be in full blast. guess that hit the bullseye “well, now, perhaps that wouldn't be a bad idea, bob. suppose we do stretch out here, you facing one way and i another.” the two crouched there. frank had thrust the torch into a crevice, for he wanted the use of both hands in gripping his rifle. if the wild beast guardian of the cave tried to attack them again, he felt that he would like to be in a position to shoot. “feel the wind, will you ? " called bob, as the sounds mounted higher and higher. “i'm afraid our torch is going to be blown out," frank replied, pointing to the flaring light, which was being hard pressed by the suction that seemed to rush through the cave, heading always toward the mouth. “say, frank, the air feels wet!" shouted bob, while the racket was at its height. of course this was no special news to frank. he, too, had noticed the same thing, and mentally commented on it. and as it was in line with cer- tain suspicions which he already entertained, he had felt amply repaid for taking such hazards in plunging into that black cave. then suddenly an extra strong blast put the torch out. 'wow i there she goes, frank! what will we do now?" yelled bob, of course feeling a new un- easiness because of the intense darkness, the pres- saddle boys of the rockies ence of an angry animal near by, and the general air of mystery that hung over the scene. “ nothing. just wait till the storm blows by; and then we'll light up again," was what frank shouted back at him. already it was diminishing. like the receding waves of the great ocean the uproar died down, growing fainter with each pulsation. and finally there came again the silence that in one way was almost as dreadful as the clamor; during which frank proceeded to light the torch again, though not without some difficulty. “frank, you felt that wet sensation, like fine spray, didn't you?" demanded bob, as soon as he could speak with comfort. “why, touch your face right now; and you'll find it moist. what- ever can it mean?” “i think i know," frank said, slowly. “i suspected it before, and this seems to make it look more than ever that way.” do you mean that you've guessed what makes all that frightful noise?" asked bob, astonished. “i believe i have," came the reply. "and it has to do with this misty feeling in the air; has it?" continued the kentucky boy. “if my idea proves the right one, and i'm bound to find out before i go away from this place, it's got everything to do with it, bob." “where there's smoke you'll find fire; and guess that hit the bullseye where there's mist i reckon water can be looked for," remarked bob, quickly. just so. now bob, have you ever been up in the yellowstone park region? "i can't say that i have, frank." “then you see i've got the advantage over you; and that's what gave me a point in the game. because i've stood and watched old faithful and the other great geysers play every half hour or so," frank went on, as they slowly advanced into the passage which seemed possibly to act as one of many funnels through which the tremen- dous roaring sound was carried to the outside world. geysers !" cried bob. "oh! now i get onto what you mean. you think, then, that in the heart of thunder mountain a giant geyser spouts every once in a while; and that as the water is dashed against the rocky walls it makes the ground shake. is that it, frank?” “yes," replied the other, "and the noise is so like thunder that when it is forced out through several queer, funnel-shaped openings like this one, it has puzzled the indians for hundreds of years. bob, more than that, i believe that every once in so many years, when an extra convulsion shakes things up here, the water bursts out through some passage, and rushes down that barranca in a wave perhaps twenty feet high.' saddle boys of the rockies but they call it a cloud burst, frank,” suga gested bob. "i know they do, but still i stick to my idea," frank went on. “and this promises to be an extra strong out- burst. nick said so anyhow; didn't he, frank?". bob queried, a new anxiety in his tone. just what he did. you're wondering now, that if what i said is true, whether this passage right here is one of those through which all that water dashes, on its way to the rocky barranca? ' “yes, that's the truth. how about it? could you see any signs here to tell about that?" “i suppose i could if they were here, but i don't discover any. besides, i thought of that before we entered, and i give you my word that i don't believe any big volume of water ever went out through here. it couldn't do it and not leave some sign behind." bob heaved a big sigh. well, i'm right glad to hear you say that, frank, seeing that we're so far in now, we wouldn't have any chance to escape if it came along. whew! i wouldn't like being carried through here, and shot out of the muzzle like a bullet. but seems to me the place is getting big- ger right along, frank.” just what it is. now you can see how like the neck of a bottle the cave is; and i think saddle boys of the rockies out, just to get away from his kind," bob re- marked. at that frank laughed. “but what if he had a big object in it, bob ?? what if some daring prospector, taking his life in his hands, had plunged into one of these caves of the winds, this one right here, for instance, and struck it rich. gold will make men do nearly anything. i've seen 'em go crazy over finding a nugget, or yellow sand in their pan. don't you see what i mean, bob? have you forgotten little lopez, and how frightened he looked when we spoke about keeping him company ? " bob uttered a cry that might stand for either astonishment or delight, perhaps both. frank, it just takes you to see through the mill stone, even if it hasn't got any hole in it," he declared. “i understand what you mean now. little lopez has been coming here for a year or more, always bringing supplies. perhaps he car- ries away the gold dust the miner has gathered in that time, and no one the wiser. it has all been a dead secret. and the terror of the in- dians for this haunted mountain, as well as the way the cowboys leave it alone, has helped this bold miner. frank, your shot hit the bull's eye, and who knows but what we may be on the way to find out the truth right now?” chapter xix the working of the gold lode “ now you know what i think, bob; but after all i may be on the wrong track," said frank, af- ter his companion had expressed himself so freely. “of course," bob went on saying; "but all the same i don't think you are. after you've shown me, it's just like that egg columbus stood up on end, after cracking the shell a bit-as easy as jumping off a log, once you know how. but now we're in here, i hope we find out the truth soon, don't you, frank?" “honest now, bob, i don't care how quick it comes," replied his chum, frankly. this is a terrible place, with panthers hang- ing around, and that thunder banging to beat the band every minute or so. i'm only wonder- ing, frank, what would become of us if that old geyser should take a notion to explode suddenly, and flush every avenue out of the heart of the mountain." “don't mention it, please," frank answered, with a shrug of his shoulders. “if such a thing saddle boys of the rockies happened we wouldn't know what hurt us, i'm afraid." "huh! some consolation in that, anyhow," grunted bob. “if a fellow has to go up against the buzz-saw, the sooner it's over the better." but nothing of the kind is going to happen,' frank insisted; "and you want to get the idea clean out of your head. we're making fine prog- ress, and any minute, now, i expect we'll run across the party who occupies this cave." but every time the blowout comes, away goes our light; and another spouting is about due now, i reckon," ventured bob. “i've got an idea i may be able to save the torch," frank remarked. “i don't know just how it's going to work; but anyhow the thing's worth trying.' “then here comes your chance," his chum called. as before, the grumbling began with an earth tremor. it was as though some giant, whose mighty limbs were shackled, was trying to break loose; and in so doing made things near him tremble. rapidly the noise increased, until it became ter- rifying. bob had dropped flat, and cowered there, almost holding his breath with awe. not s frank, in whose care was the burning torch. he had whipped off his coat at the first signi saddle boys of the rockies hind him. bob wondered what he did this for until he saw his chum bending his head forward as though endeavoring to discover what lay ahead. then he realized that the light blinded him while it was before his eyes, and he sought to avoid the trouble in this way. “there's another bend ahead, bob," frank re- marked, presently. “yes ? ” said the kentucky lad, eagerly, sus- pecting what was coming. and i can see signs of light at the curve," frank went on. “hurrah! everything seems to be coming out just as you figured, frank. when i get back to the ranch i'm going to write to the president, proposing that he put you in charge of the weather bureau. every old farmer will know then when to look out for storms." “well, we may be in for one now," observed frank, dryly. “look here, you mean something by that re- mark,” bob cried. “do you expect we're go- ing to have a peck of trouble with these miners ? " “i don't know. it all depends on what sort of men they are," frank replied. “but we wont let 'em drive us out of here until we know all about that geyser, if there is such a thing; will we, frank ?” “well, i reckon it won't take a great deal of saddle boys of the rockies can. pector who spent his time in hunting new strikes, and who lived year in and year out in the wild hope of sometime or other hitting it rich. frank sud- denly remembered that smith had had one daughter, who, he believed, had married a mexi- and that would make the little girl his grand-daughter. “ they're packing up,” remarked frank, whose quick eye had noticed the fact. perhaps he's done his work here, and means to vamoose the ranch,” bob suggested. “then again,' " he added, as another thought raced through his brain, “maybe he doesn't altogether like the looks of things, and wants to get out of this rat-hole before it all goes to smash. he must have been here a long time, and ought to know something about that geyser, frank." “there, they have discovered us!” the other exclaimed, as he waved his torch in what he meant to be a friendly way, and kept on advancing. “whew! i just hope he doesn't try to fire on us," muttered bob, who was nervously fingering his rifle, and wondering how dreaful it would feel to be compelled, even in self-defense, to shoot at a fellow human being. but the old miner held up both hands. it was the indian peace sign, understood by every savage tribe on the face of the globe. quickly the two boys hurried forward, for the working of the gold lode first symptoms of another burst of thunder and furious wind began to make themselves felt. this time frank did not take off any of his outer clothing in order to protect the torch. he had noted that the old miner had two lanterns, and he expected to borrow one, if necessary. of course his torch was snuffed out while the furious blast swept by. bob noted that each suc- cessive outbreak tried to beat the record, and he was wondering just when the limit of endurance might be reached. the old miner, after the roar had subsided, offered the two boys his hand. “how are ye, young haywood?” he asked, recognizing frank. “i heard about what you done for my little gal here, inez lopez, whose father was once a cowboy on the circle ranch, and lost his life in a fight with some of his coun- trymen when they quarreled. i'm glad to see you. found a nice little pocket here a year or so back. kept it on the quiet; and the gal, playing the part of a boy, has been fetchin' me supplies once in two months, an' takin' away the dust i winnowed. pocket's played out now, but i reckons as how i've got plenty. 'sides, i just don't like the way things is agoin' here. that spoutin' geyser that rises up inside the old moun- tain every once in a while acts like it meant to break loose. never saw it carry on that bad saddle boys of the rockies before; and we're just ready to cut and run, leav- in' most of the truck behind. what brings ye here, frank?" so frank had to explain in a few words, while the old miner looked admiringly at the boys, and grinned. “i admire your nerve, young fellers,” he de- clared, at the conclusion of the explanation. and, frank, ye guessed the true facts, blessed if ye didn't! i got onto the same by accident. fell in through a hole, and just had to creep along this passage to the end. then havin' guessed what made the roar, i wondered if so be i could find any stuff in here. so i took a lot of wood along, and made my discovery.” “and you say you're bound out now?" asked frank. “that's what we are, little lopez and me; and we can't get to the open any too soon, either, to please both of us," smith replied, shouldering his pack. “oh! say, mr. smith,” cried bob," have you lost a pet that wears a collar?” “meanin' my pet painter, nero, i take it,” re- plied the miner. “i raised him “i raised him up from a cub, and he's as fond of me as my dog. but he's gone somewhar. we ain't seen him for hours, and like as not the critter knowed it was gettin' 'dangerous in here. trust animal sense for that. trapped in a canyon might be the genuine article, and we'd find the rain coming down to beat the band. glad it isn't, because we want to get down from this to where our horses are.” “ little lopez has our burro and bronco quar- tered in a small ravine where they can't escape, remarked the old miner, as he handed frank the lantern he had been carrying, the girl taking the other. “but would they be in danger in case of a storm-burst?" asked bob. “we counted on that when we arranged the exit by piling up stones," came the ready reply. “there is little danger, for the ravine has high banks, where they are able to go in case of hard luck. but now we have a tough job ahead, boys. mind your steps all the time. a slip might cost you dear.” “reckon i know that, mr. smith,” remarked bob. “i've had experience, you see. and only for the helping hand of my trusty chum here, i'm afraid i wouldn't be alive right now. oh! i'll be careful, i give you my word.” and he was, seldom putting a foot forward without first making certain how the land lay be- low, and that the stone he expected to step upon was firmly planted. they were making fair progress when the old miner called out: saddle boys of the rockies “we've reached the parting of the ways, boys. little lopez and me have to turn to the left here, so as to hit the place whar our animals are cached. you keep right on. wish you the best of luck, frank. hope to see you some time at my shack. and i tell ye, son, thar's agoin' to be a ranch soon, with hosses for the gal, an' an ottermobile for the old couple. i struck it rich in this here lode and pocket. so-long, boys!' he shook hands with each of them, as did also the girl, whose astonishing nerve, when facing that terrible grizzly, bob would never forget. then they separated. and a minute afterward there came another of those fearful shocks that seemed to make the very rocks of the mountain quiver, as the pent-up force of that great geyser beat against its prison walls. “we must be getting down somewhere near the canyon, aren't we, frank?” asked bob, after they had been a long while descending the side of the rough mountain. “that's right, we are," replied his chum. “and i've been wondering whether we ought to take the chances of going along that barranca just now.' " it's the shortest way to where we left our horses, i reckon,” remarked bob. “and the only way we happen to know of," frank went on; "but if that flood just happened to break loose while we were between those high trapped in a canyon walls we'd have an experience that would be fierce, let me tell you!" but then, it may not come for hours yet?” remonstrated the kentucky boy, who was anxious to be once again in the saddle, and leaving the haunted mountain well in the rear. *oh! for that matter, it may not come at all,” frank went on. “although smith did say he really believed that this was going to finish the old geyser, which he believed empties into one of those queer underground rivers we know are to be found all through the southwest. and smith ought to know something about it, for he's been watching this business a whole year now, from close quarters." " i'm willing to take the chances, if you are," declared bob. frank was not at all surprised when he heard his chum say this. he knew that the kentucky boy was apt to be rash; and that meant more cau- tion on his part, in order to counteract this spirit, that might border on recklessness. a quick decision had to be made, for delay could do them no good. he cast one last look up at the dark heavens, as though questioning how long they might remain mute. "all right, we'll risk it, bob,” he declared, sud- denly; for even if the worst came frank believed he knew how to avoid a calamity. “good for you, frankl " exclaimed the other; trapped in a canyon said;" and let us hope that will be out of the reach of the water. come on, bob; let's see how you can climb; but be careful, boy, be mighty care- full" " frank, that roaring sound didn't seem like the others we've been hearing; d'ye think it means anything has happened?” bob called, as he started to clamber up the rough face of the wall, taking advantage of every jutting rock, and showing a nimbleness a mountain goat might almost have envied. “i reckon it does, bob,” replied the other. “get along as fast as you can with all caution." “has the cloudburst arrived?" demanded bob, who was already ten feet from the floor of the canyon. "either that, or else with that last shock the geyser burst its bonds, and the flood smith ex- pected is rushing out from all the passages into this same channel! perhaps both things have happened at the same time," frank replied. “wow! then we'd better be climbing some, i reckon, if that's the case!" cried the kentucky boy, as he increased his efforts to ascend to the ledge. a close call had not filled the bed of the canyon for perhaps centuries back. when another hour had elapsed bob began to grow impatient, and suggested various wild schemes for getting out of the difficulty. to all of these frank shook his head. he himself was considering something, when he suddenly lifted his head as though listening. some one shouting up yonder!” exclaimed bob, pointing upward to the top of the canyon wall; whereupon frank seized upon his gun, and fired several shots in rapid succession. then came answering shouts, upon which frank repeated his signal for help. “they hear you; they're coming closer! oh! frank, i believe that's old hank coombs hol- lering!” exclaimed the excited bob. hello! down there, air ye all safe?” came a hail; and looking up the two boys on the shelf saw the grizzled head of the old cowman thrust into view. conclusion “say won't they be just as mad as hops, though, when they learn about what we saw and heard," chuckled bob. “it's been a great time, all right. and frank, we'll never again have anything like the fun we had in that old barranca. it makes my blood just jump through my veins to think of it." "you're right," said frank, “i don't believe we ever will! but like many other persons who cannot look ahead even one hour, and know what the future holds for them, both the saddle boys were very much mistaken. there were plenty of stirring adventures awaiting them ere many weeks had passed, some of which will be related in the next volume of this series, called “the saddle boys in the grand canyon; or, the hermit of the cave." and those of our boy friends who have found more or less interest in the present story of life in the far southwest, will doubtless be glad to read more of the doings of frank hay- wood and his brave kentucky chum, bob archer. that peg and his guides reached home safely frank knew shortly, when he happened to meet the bully on the trail. peg was eager to hear at first hand all that had happened, and made friendly overtures with that design in view; but this did not deceive frank in the least. he real- ized that peg was more bitter than ever, and a mh n stol รกราะ ห้ * * s din hinnmilitinitie wwwminiin sumivumus scient bartes mundul library veritas of the ersity of michiga | university os tue bor patirtimitilittiinitalienne westcoa limmigraturiiumarulmight t iti shouers ueris peninsulam circumspice w mmmmmmwmdul rrorlerle i m ,v- i "where are you going, annette ?” asked christine, coldy. [page ] the ship of souls by emerson hough mckinlay, stone & mackenzie new york copyright, , by d. appleton and company copyright, , by the mccall company printed ik the united states of america replace t.com - - contents chapter - - dor . the new man at mctavish .. i ii. chasse galÈre ....... iii. the white girl at mctavish . .. iv. the bargain of angus garth .. v. the test . . . . . . . . . vi. father and daughter . . . vii. the murderer's will . . . viii. annette and christine . . . ix. langley barnes . . . . . . x. the twentieth man . . . . xi. the mad piper of mctavish xii. the wedding room . . . . . xiii. mockeries . . . . . . . xiv. ave maria . . . . . . . . xv. the dawson patrol . xvi. mixed company . . . . . xvii. between friends . . . . . . xviii. the news from palm beach . . . xix. propinquity . . . . . . . . xx. the conspiracy in fur . . . . vi contents chapter xxi. whose hands are clean? . . . xxii. trouble at mctavish xxiii. angus garth argues xxiv. the maw of the north .... xxv. the tempests that torment . . xxvi. both the women xxvii. the invisible xxviii. mctavish speaking xxix. the impossible xxx. the news from outside .... xxxi. average men xxxii. the ship of souls xxxiii. the knees of the gods .... xxxiv. rose o' the world xxxv. the cup , . . . the ship of souls chapter i the new man at mctavish asolitary snowflake, slowly spiraling down, fell from a breathless sky upon a silent earth. in the vast calm preceding the coming of the arctic winter, so nearly balanced were the temperature of earth and air that the gray blade of grass which caught the flake held it up unchanged. the sky seemed no deeper in its even blue gray than it had been for days, although the light autumn airs now had ceased utterly. all the wide arctic world was waiting motionless for its winding sheet. in the open space before the log buildings of the old fur post the sledge dogs lay curled, nose in tail. they knew what would come—the first storm after the annual twilight. a figure not wholly congruous in these surroundings turned up the path which ascended from mctavish boat landing. the nets had frozen under this young man's fingers when he ran them just now, rather un- i the ship of souls skilfully. the product of his morning's labor he now carried in one hand—not over thirty pounds of fish, enough for the mouths of the post for one day. the fisherman was perhaps three and thirty; in figure tall, lean, muscular. obviously, he was not wholly new in outdoor activities. indeed, his garb of heavy wools showed him to have been hunter or woods- man at one time. but his tall laced boots spoke him from the lower latitudes, probably from some city. the husky dogs still turned suspicious eyes on him, even bearing gifts as he did now—rough fish not wanted on the table, which they gulped down whole, one or two fish still alive. having done so much of his morning's work, lang- ley barnes approached the closely fitted door of the log house in which dwelt angus garth, factor at fort mctavish. as he did so, he waved his hand at a tall girl who passed, signaling to her to come and take the fish. she was of oddly composite costume, half that of the white women in the settlements, half that of the native, the whole supplemented by the gaudy blanket of the north country. her feet, very small, were neat in their bright moccasins. her walk, as langley barnes before now had noted, was the easy stride, light and effortless, of the wild creature; the walk with red blood under it. and annette garth, as the young man had the new man at mctavish come to know, was half indian, her mother once a comely young loucheux, the last to find favor as mistress of old angus garth's log fortress at fort mctavish. here was sixty-seven, which is far north of fifty-three, where law of god and man is supposed to halt embarrassed. a fur post has its own ways. annette was one of the proofs of that. the girl made him no gesture in return, but the flash of white teeth, the following gaze of full dark eyes was reply enough had he been aware of it. he did not know that she often had watched him over the corner of her drawn blanket, as a young woman of a fur post will. angus garth himself, factor of fort mctavish, opened the door. a gray man, carrying the impression that always he had been gray. his hair, a heavy mop, dense now as in his youth, made a high, grizzled mane. it fell to his neck, where it was cut off square, hanging like a mat. his eye too was gray, porched over by the shaggy gray brows of age. his beard was gray, not fully white, but shot with darker streaks. a short man he was, but heavy and powerful of body, seventy- odd at least. once a year angus garth took on a suit of tweeds from the annual company boat, to carry the dignity of his station as bourgeois before the natives. moccasins, of course, he wore. he had not known other foot the ship of souls covering in fifty years. not in fifty years had garth seen a white man other than those in the company or constabulary service. he was a king, and a stern one, handling an absolute monarchy of his own, two hun- dred by six hundred miles in extent, living wholly without reference to the outside world and its laws. and he collected fur, fur, fur! genius he had, as the company books showed beyond cavil, year after year. competition or comparison never entered into his mind. he cared nothing, asked nothing, of what went on outside his own territory. his furs were prime always, always well cased, always well baled, always ready to be put at once into cargo, always more in quantity than came from any other two posts on all the great river. hence, no inspector ever meddled much with old angus garth. with a grunt, the old man flung open the door, ad- mitted langley barnes, pushed a bottle to him across the near-by table, though the hour was early. he him- self had by now fairly recovered from the annual carouse which always marked the boat's arrival, but still occasionally was seeking to drown his annual mel- ancholy. it is lonesome business, drinking alone in the arctic, with the long night coming on and no white companion to aid one in one's cups. it is of no comfort to a man to roar a drinking song when he is quite alone, as old the new man at mctavish angus garth had discovered these forty years or so ago—and rediscovered recently. a week after the boat had gone, he had found him- self at table in his own house with langley barnes, who sat smoking quietly, with now and then a taste of the scotch, frequent enough to prove him a man of the male sort. old angus garth at first had felt no more than half resentment when barnes told him he had left the boat deliberately, that he intended to cut himself off from civilization for a year, that he intended to live at the factor's house. well, at least and at last angus garth would not have to drink alone! chapter ii chasse galere maun say ye’ve your impudence,” the old man now replied to barnes' refusal to drink. “but i maun say ye've had talent to sit so long at table with me before now. ye are not welcome now, and have not been. but ye may stay until i change my mind-or until you change yours, and take a drappie.” it was their old and rather snarling discussion. having no other place to go, though caring little where he went, langley barnes had stayed on into his third month at mctavish. making it plain that he had abundant means to pay his own way, he made no second offer to do so. without much of a word on either side, he had dropped into the system of life as well as he could, and tried to be helpful, knowing that here no man could buy his way. he had taken lessons in dog harness. he ran the nets. he felled wood for the fireplaces. he brought in ptarmigan, hares, showed rifle skill enough to prove that he would be safe to send for caribou when the herds came. he began to learn a few words of the tribal dialect, showing strange apti- chasse galere tude at that. he had said he could do his day on the snowshoes; and now that soon could be proved, as yonder single snowflake had shown. true, he was a yankee, but he could not be turned out now. and old angus garth had lived a living death for forty years—scotch and having no one with whom to drink, or with whom to argue! they sat not untidy now for winter, for this was a known and conquered environment, this log building which had been the home of garth for forty years. now the roof of moss and bark and stones was ready for the snow. the annual chinking of moss had all been finished. the black-throated fireplace was ready for its larger logs. the low small windows all were tight. the bed place in the angle at the side of the chimney was piled with soft furs and flaring six-point company blankets. there were furs on the walls. a parka or two hung on pegs. old angus garth was ready, so let winter come. barnes, his unwelcome guest, had helped him prepare. "well, at least ye were not bare handed," he said now, commenting on the fishing. "mayhap more luck to-morrow. 'tis providence guides the fish into our nets or out of them. a pipe's not bad. ye're cold?" "not at all." "ye're aweary?" "not in the least. what's on your mind, mr. garth? the ship of souls do you think a man of the yankees isn't as good as the best canadian man? i'm no babe in these woods." since his arrival, barnes always had been truculent, independent, ready to fight the best possible policy in a land of unending war. "well, ye've plenty to learn." "but a man does learn if he's got it in him. some men take to the wilderness. it calls them." "aye, it calls!" said old angus garth. "and ye've a pretty opinion of yerself about the wilderness, eh?" barnes sat silent for a time. "i've a belief, not an opinion, mr. garth." "how do ye mean, lad?" "at home i had money, and i made money. a made beaver skin here may be worth more than a thousand dollars is there. i'm no fool, either there or here. but civilization? the american civilization, mr. garth, is the thin lid of hell. what does all its culture, science, progress—so-called—come to? take the radio—the furor of the hour when i left home—that's only going to make the world a smaller and more unpleasant one to live in. if i die here, let me—i'll not whimper about it. i failed but did not die, back yonder. that was the worst of it." "that can be," said angus garth, simply. barnes turned to him suddenly. "what brought you here yourself, long ago, mr. garth?" he demanded. chasse galere "the same as yourself, lad. a woman. and my bread and butter. the two are all there is in life. which ye hold the first depends on the age of a mon. i was young, then." / he did not look to see the red flush rise on the face of langley barnes, who made no reply. "aye, it calls!" mused the old man. "and ye asked me what brought me here! why not be true with ye? it was the chasse galere!" "the chasse galere?" "ay, the great canoe that rides the storms, lad— paddled by its crew of the lost souls! it runs but the ane way—to the north! it ne'er goes back again." barnes bethought him of some such tale heard on some hunting trip among the canadians, a tradition preserved in a wild voyageur's song. he nodded now. "'twas in the french provinces, at old mo'reau— that the great canoe picked me up." barnes nodded, gravely. garth went on. "ye've never heard—the song of the chasse galere? always in a great storm she comes, riding low under the clouds. ye can hear the paddlers laugh, miles far, and their chantey whiles they paddle. they swing low, and the bowman has an eye out for what's ahead, whiles the steersman leads the song. ye know the story? to be sure ye do! since the first fur boats left mo'reau, the tale's been known. the ship of souls "a mon goes out alone to his trap line. he ne'er comes back! well, his mates know what's happened. each time it's death it brings. or waur than death." his shaggy head sank on his breast for a time before he continued. "ye'll know it, lad. always the great canoe has twenty paddlers, or places for twenty, but never the thwarts will be set full. always there'll be ane seat empty. she maun have another paddle, do ye mind? hah! when the crew sweeps doon over the forest top, the bowman reaches out his hand whiles the crew roars laughter. and the boat gaes on—and all her seats are full! and the place that knew that young mon knows him nae mair. the north has him then. "who knows where young angus garth went when he was a lad? and i was young! aye, alas! some- where, 'tis usual, there was a woman!" "now i know why old angus garth never has gone out to the settlements!" "sure ye do, lad. the great chasse galere runs but the ane way. if she catches ye—she goes north again with all her seats full. soon, the new soul paddles. mayhap he sings, too. and so off they go, across the far forests. and never he gaes back. no, nor wants to!" "aye, it calls!" he mused still, for a time. "go back? ... to what?" chapter iii the white girl at mctavish hristine!" called angus garth, sud- denly. he and the young man long had sat a blanketed door rustled. there stepped into the room a girl, not annette, the young half-blood whom langley barnes had seen just now, but a young white woman, and one of startling beauty. she made no fitting part of this rude picture. her garb, not rich, but very neat, was within a year at least of current styles as barnes had seen them last. it had no trace of the savage. she did not even wear moccasins. it was known of a few men, a very few, wise enough not to talk, that within the same box with angus garth's annual suit of tweeds, there were each year certain pairs of shoes of the latest prevailing style, also hats, gloves, handkerchiefs, other matters unknown. some men knew that the cases of books—always books, many books on many themes, including good fiction, not much of which, therefore, could be so modern— silent. ii the ship of souls were not for angus garth himself, but for angus garth's only white child, the one thing in the world he loved, the one thing with which he was always gentle. thus now had grown to young womanhood the only white girl within five hundred miles, companionless alone. this young woman seemed perhaps three and twenty years of age. of good height, of strong, deep, au- burn hair, fair skin and blue eyes-eyes in which dwelt a continual question—on ebinboro hill in scotland of a saturday, she would have passed for a beauty none too well turned out. here, she seemed a beauty very well clad. she had great personal dignity. why not? she was one of the best educated young women in the dominion of canada, although she never had been in- side a school and never had seen a white woman in all her life—with one exception, twenty years ago, her mother. alone, eager, taught only by her parents, christine garth had read for years; and in surround- ings such as these, one remembers. the north had not swallowed angus garth's white child, whatever it had done to him. one look at the girl's face would prove that. she was a being apart, and she dwelt apart. but langley barnes had not dreamed of this girl's existence until now! few men ever saw her or knew of her-outside those on the annual boat, none at all. the white girl at mctavish there was once a myth, a tradition, that old angus . garth had a child whose mother was a mission teacher at a lower post, long years ago, five and thirty, or thirty years ago at least. meantime the york boat had passed and steam had come. most of the old trade personnel was gone. the fur post has its own ways. and mc- tavish turned out fur, fur, fur! enough, and very well. as the apparition of this wholly civilized young woman now suddenly came into the room, langley barnes sprang to his feet, turning his eyes first to the girl and then to old angus garth. he never had dreamed of such a being, although he had been in the house for months! he really had talked but little with annette, who was here, there and everywhere. "my daughter, christine garth," said the factor, gravely, with no explanation or apology. "christine, this is mr. langley barnes. he was left by the boat. we turn no man away. i have not made him welcome, but i now have told him he maun stay." the girl lacked social education. her life had been a blank in many regards. she had seen hardly a white man, certainly never a gentleman. of the arts or cus- toms of ladies and gentlemen she knew nothing at first hand. true, she did not tell her father that often she had looked out her window at langley barnes, wonder- ing, speculating. hers was a nature wholly untouched the ship of souls by any comprehension of man as man. she could not tell why she had looked at him. she stood now, silent and motionless, but not awk- ward or self-conscious. of a bow, a handclasp, a curtsy, she knew little or nothing. she did not smile, because there existed in her mind no cause for it. she only stood silent. her father did not reprove her. "tea, please, christine,” said angus garth. she departed. barnes was wise enough to wait, silent. "an indian woman, by long training, can make a hot toddy,” remarked angus garth, “but tea can be made only by the white woman. six indian women i've had about the house, but never ane would i let pour my tea. so you see, christine's useful—when she comes from her ain part of the place. 'tis not often.” christine did pour the tea for them now, and could offer sugar with it. but she herself did not drink with them, and soon left the room. she had not spoken a word, nor had she been chided for her silence. only remained the question of her eyes. langley barnes still waited. but that his heart beat faster he could not deny. was there, then, no place in the world where a man could get away from women? angus garth accepted life and human beings as they were. he gazed now into the fire for a long time be- fore he spoke. his preliminary was a nod over his the white girl at mctavish shoulder which said that he would speak when he felt ready. "ye did not know of christine,” said he, not in query, after a time. “i had hoped ye never would. ye've thrust yerself into a place where ye had no right. 'twas only the tradeetion of the company's hospitality that made me open door to ye. never have we allowed white man to want when he knocked-from mo’reau to vancouver-unless he was after fur. all such we handle in our ain way. “but ye're not after fur, and now i know that. 'twas other cause brought ye here. ye're not wel- come. ye're not guest in my house. ye're no more than traveler accepting the company's hospitality. that is to say-unless!” again he did not see the temples of the young man redden. he went on presently in his own direct fashion. “but ye are here! and i, angus garth, am sax and seeventy. and christine is three and twenty, may- like. and annette is now by way of eighteen. "to be sure i have children, wards of the domeenion, as all others of the old factors have-scattered from abbitibi to chipewyan, from nelson to mctevish. and they have children. and some of their children have children too. "oh, ye've pushed your nose now into the north, the ship of souls from which nae mon sends back word! we did not ask ye, and i dinna want ye. the world little knows our ways here, and we dinna wish it to. i am mon of the old trade, no better, no worse. indian weemin? aye. but didna each factor better the woman he took out of a lodge and put into a house? i'll make no comment of them, nor any apology. "but one woman at mctevish was marrit. white, she was. and christine—" "christine is all white, angus garth." "aye!" said the old man, "body and soul she is. and but that the command of the company bids me save the traveler cast away in the wilderness, i'd never say to any mon living what i maun say to ye. "she's white, all white, aye, christine! and though now ye not speak it, ye ask it: who was the mother of christine? "lad, i maun tell ye that! though never had i meant to say a word of it to mon again, i maun tell ye that, because of many things." he sat motionless now for many, many moments. "a mission woman she was, the mother of chris- tine, yes. and god save angus garth, who doesna ken even now whether he damned two souls, or one, or mayhap saved the two! 'twas by no grace of mine, whatever came in any case. "listen to me! one time i was minded to go out the white girl at mctavish to the settlements. 'twas thirty years ago. they told me i should go down at least as far as weenipeg. but i went no further than the great slave mission. "ye will see we hate the missions, we traders, though we swear we dinna! they teach our natives— what? a little sewin', a bit prayin', singin' about the savior which they dinna understand—and that's all! save their souls? their souls were made to gather fur! a good father dies here and there, and who minds that? what has he gained? the life of a good mon of the anglican church, who could have made a useful mon in civilization with less labor and mair comfort—what gain, if 'tis thrown away? "and but for the missions, i had never sinned. 'tis no sin to take up with native women—'tis neces- sary. "but the women of the missions! of their own church of england, the meenisters should have been prevented, from the first, from ever bringing a white woman nigh the trade north of weenipeg! we need no religion here." again the long silence while he stared into the fire. angus garth seemed loath to resume. his voice broke when he spoke. "mon, she was an angel! and when she steppit off the boat, her husband was waiting for her. a good mon, i presume. and he'd been at yon mission two the ship of souls years. and when she steppit off the plank the puir booby had not the manhood to take her in his arms and kiss her before the boat's crew. and she fairly trem- bling with fright and hope and longing to be protectit, here in a land such as this! her, brought to save souls in the north! my god! she lost her ain—and mine! aye—and yours, too, i'm thinking, langley barnes ! "oh, aye, marrit they had been, so far as religion and love can make marriage. this was her coming out to her ain home. yon long log house was to be hers. and i with my ain two eyes saw him walk the half mile to the house, and he not even touched her hand! and he didna even walk fast with her to their cabin! it was the cauldest, damnedest meeting hus- band and wife ever made. and i carena whether it be meenister of the gospel or not, i carena, even now yon was a fair crime—her trembling with fright and longing to be loved and comfortit. and so, to love and comfort her myself i swore then and there, the first time or ever that i saw her. "well, lad, that was the ane time angus garth had danger of losing his poseetion at mctevish. as it was, mctevish had no more than a clerk for factor for six months. it took me sae long as that. i stayed on at yon mission. i had seen her. from the first i saw her, i—" langley barnes looked at him and nodded. the white girl at mctavish “ye know? ye've been a mon among men? then ye know! it took me six months to show her, a good woman, that she had no duty saving souls at great slave, but had one in saving one soul at mctevish- me, angus garth! and there never has been a mis- sion at mctevish, nor will be while i live! “it is all! i have told ye. she came with me." “yes.” “aye. in forty years i have ne'er been below great slave. and christine ? christine has ne'er been below the circle, nor e'er will be. and yet she's white! ah, my god! so now ye see what ye’ve come into, here. "ignorance! ignorance! that is the one hope for happiness! civilization—that is no more than the thin lid over hell-ye've said true, lad. "i drave the dogs myself, north down the reever, when i stole her away. months it seemed to me- with her white and cauld and greeting. here she lived then, and none dared say nay. 'tis my ain land. and here she died. and if it be love and care of mon a woman craves, she had that. i could never tell if it was i loved her, or wanted most to comfort her. she lacked nothing i could get till she died. for two years she made fair pretense. “the bairn, christine, came late for us. then she was content a space; then glad to die. she died in terror, and her face i shall never be able to put out the ship of souls my mind. for she said her soul was damned. ah! that white lamb! "marrit, i said. how could we be in truth? no courts, no officers, no meenister-i'd not allow one here. first was the divorce, and how could we get it here—the wife of an anglican meenister? no, no! 'twas simple, the way i did, and the only way. and ye ask me, was i so mad of carnal love of her? i have not said i was. i have said i took her. i have said this is my child by her. well, at least as regular as any of the others. i'm of the auld trade. but to her, before god, i was marrit. and all i ever will know of heaven was alice at her cradle, singing. her voice was fair wonderful. christine's is even better. but christine shall never sing in any mission school!” fiercely, the old man flung his gray mane up. “now then, ye damned interloper and stranger, ye unwelcome guest in the house of old angus garth- why do i tell ye these things? i dinna ken altogether. ane thing i know is the great reason i did that, and do this. i was white !—and i am white ! "oh, aye, i'll suppose the white woman's a dream and an imaginin'. i'll suppose she's ceevilization. at any rate, i brake the heart for one white woman as well as any ceevilized mon might have done-as well as ye've done yerself? i never brake the heart of ane wom the white girl at mctavish indian woman. they know better. they're the only ones for the trade. "so there's christine. she never smiles. she reads." “and annette?" interrupted his hearer. “annette ? annette never reads. she smiles. “which one then, mr. langley barnes?” he turned, his eyes lit by so somber a fury he might well have seemed half mad. his hand, heavy and hard as iron, fell on the other's arm and gripped it. "because, do ye mind, it will come to one or happen both of these two! and the two are my ain! i'm a mon, and i know! "oh, i know well enough the eye the red woman or the black or the yellow—has for the tall white mon! i'd rather have died than have had ye come here. but ye've come. i could kill ye. yes, but 'twould be too late, now! they both have seen ye. who can call back the spark that starts from man to woman, from woman to man? 'tis youth, 'tis the blood of youth! "but-well, let us reason. aweel, i'm old now. soon angus garth dies. who takes his place here? 'tis a hard post, and few of the best could handle it. when angus garth dies, who takes his place ?” barnes only sat and looked at him in silence; nodded, his lips close set. “nae sae happy?” garth smiled, one-cornered. chapter iv the bargain of angus garth barnes bent his head, pondering the story of this savage man. before his own mind came the picture of a cold, beautiful, slender, elegant and faultless woman, dainty, garbed exquisitely, radi- ant with gems—the most beautiful and the coldest woman in the city where they made their home, the last product of the world's highest civilization—his own wife, alicia. *vt^ he had given her much. she had driven a hard , bargain, sold herself high, and denied delivery. after ten years he realized that she had given him nothing and had nothing that she could give. flower of civil- ization she was, no more than orchid, no fragrant, blossom of good, normal, human soil. langley barnes shook his head once more, his lips close. garth began again. "ye're marrit? oh, aye, of course, but that matters not here. 'tis far. the ane question is: have ye left your world and come north in the chasse galere, never to go back again? 'twould mean naught if ye the bargain, of angus garth spoke of that to either of these two. christine knows little of marriage. annette would not care. . . . sit still! i'm coming to my point. "so now, i'm scotch! i drive good bargains!—and i see far ahead. i see further now than ye do. is it not so? yet i'm only saying what's bound to happen here!" "but what can you possibly mean, sir?" "christine—or annette—or both! if both—ye die!" barnes could only stare at him, not at all compre- hending. but the old man went on. "always i've bought close. i maun buy for these, my ain, for their betterment—if 'tis to save their souls! i'm scotch. after all, i believe we've souls. "now, say i offer the company, five years from now, a factor trained by angus garth's ain hand? the new factor is marrit to one—sit ye still, mon, i say!— to one of angus garth's two daughters! the other still lives on at the post—but not for you! "ye shrink back! oh, i know the practice. also, i know the opportunities for young blood, and its striv- ings and its clamorings—aye, even for women, mair for those who had no mother and no training. look at me! also, i know the necessities of the trade. a factor maun have a native wife, else he gets nae fur among the natives. and ye may have a native wife, sir. the ship of souls /"but if the new factor had a native wife—what about christine? if so i can solve the problem for my ain flesh and blood at all, there is nae other way but one ye can pay me for your keep, langley barnes! god, ih drive a close bargain with ye! "ye care nothing for the wife ye've left. i'm caring for mine, that's dead. it's her girl, my lamb, i'm think- ing of. "winter is here, and if ye spend the winter here i know what maun happen! youth will have its way, nor can aught prevent that. should i not know? one ye'll be following, and one will be following you! well, the best factor is he who takes his happenings and turns them into fur! and as to women, red or white—" his voice trailed off into a hundred mut- tered curses of himself and his bitter fate. "did ye say to me, ye'd left your ain wife for aye?" he resumed at length. "ye're off with all that? ye're free sailing? i ask no more. i maun trade the best i may." "i do not yet know," said langley barnes. "i would not lie to you. there is no love between us. i think she cares for another man more. i came away to give her a chance to get free. still we are man and wife—unless the court meantime has given her her divorce—i think it has, by now. in any case, i never will go back to her, that's sure." the bargain of angus garth “ 'twould be no use. there's but ane thing can be the answer! once ye've heard the chanson of the chasse galère, ye're damned to the wilderness for your life. but if ye've found what ceevilization denied ye -what then? could ye be content to live and die here? i could die well myself then, serving the great com- pany still, rest good prince rupert in his grave! "ye see, i know that ignorance may save my daugh- ter-or it might be, both my daughters—from being damned! knowledge that would damn them both! let them live ignorant. let them be happy. annette —for sake of the company. christine—for sake of her mother? could that be? i'd know then that i'd drave my last bargain with the wilderness !" barnes could not speak at all. the old man went on. "all 'twould have cost would have been a soul! 'twould be only ane more soul-only your ain, mr. langley barnes! mine's gone, long a-gone. i tell ye, we drive hard bargains here." the young man looked him fair in the eye. for the first time the hard gray orb of angus garth grew softer. "for 'tis this way, ye see, lad. the giving of your soul might rest the soul of a good woman that's gone. it might save-it might bring to living beauty and happiness-ane soul that's still here sleeping–chris- the ship of souls tine! shall we damn her, boy? and if it be not you, who then? no one comes here. she must have her equal, body and mind. what chance has she? "oh, there'll be no playing between her and you! naething half wilderness and half ceevilization! 'tis this or that! if you marry annette you save a fur post for the company. if you marry christine, you save a soul to god. you lose your own. no man ever came here but came in the chasse galere. it comes to the wilderness—it gaes not back again." he sat moody, his hands twitching, for some time before he raised his head in decision and went on. "now then, uninvited and unwelcome mon, there is the one way ye may be welcome! ye might step into your fortune here. i'm rich. ye can't spend much here, and gin ye could, i'm rich. ye've done with your old life. step into a better one more fit for a mon. "but i'm scotch, and aye canny!" he added, hotly. "i trade close! i'm sure first! the next factor at mctevish maun be able to buck the north. are ye a coward, langley barnes?" "i don't know." "then probably ye are not! but a test ye maun have. listen. i'll name it for ye. "up river a hundred miles are two white men, inde- pendent hunters. i've allowed them to stay in my coun- try because they're good hunters. they bring more the bargain of angus garth fur than any three families o' my natives. since they buy here and sell here, aye, and make no attempt to trade in fur, i allow them in my district. yankees, they are. "but this summer they did not come in to meet the boat. there's no news of them. i've sent my natives aside from their country, so i've had no word from them. and in their country, lad, is mair fox-silver and black and dark cross-than in all my reaches! i could have counted on four or five thousand in their hunt this season. but i got-nothing at all! "hensley and durgin—that's their names. now, i want their fur. i also want word of them. ye'll be runnin' down there for me?" the old man's eye nar- rowed, glowing like a coal. “how far is it?” "a hundred and five and twenty miles." "and how do i find the place where they live?” “the cabin is on the right bank of the river. it can not be missed by a real woodsman. none but a real woodsman will ever be factor at mctevish!” “the snow is coming.” “oh, aye.” “to-morrow?” “ 'twill be beginning now." "i should take sledge and dogs ?” “oh, aye.” the ship of souls “i've never driven a dog team yet.” “oh, aye. but the factor of mctevish will have done so !” “i can have no guide, no native?” “none whatever." "i may die." “it may be. but the factor of mctevish will not be the sort that dies. he'll go out, and he'll come back. fur is high. and all ye could lose, my lad,” added old angus garth, "would be your life, and your soul! we're both white men after all. what is the giving of your soul, if ye save ane and rest ane, and them the souls of women? “ah, god! don't i still hear her-alice-greeting all the night, and asking me what i have done for her lamb? and is not this a good trade to offer a young mon? tell me that, langley barnes! i'm supposing ye're a strong mon, but done with your wife, and done with ceevilization; aye, and done with life itself! but i am not supposing you will never care for weemin-or that weemin will never care for you!" in answer the young man only looked him again straight in the face. “ 'tis a fierce land, langley barnes, ye’ve fung yourself into! 'tis a hard-living and hard-dying land. but shall a white mon lose his hold? how can he trade other than hard? life for fur. hungry babes o' red the bargain of angus garth weemin for warm babes o' white; souls for souls; life for life; aye, life for love! hard trading? yes. yet, so lies the test for the next factor o' mctevish! they'll be expecting me to name him, soon." “annette!" he called sharply. there came now into the room, silently in her moccasins, the compelling beau- tiful breed daughter of angus garth_tall, dark, ripely appealing to any young man's eyes, enough to carry off his feet any young man in whose veins ran hot, unscrupulous blood. "take away!" he motioned to the tea things. the girl complied, smiling. her dark eyes were fixed on the clean, strong features of langley barnes, almost the only white man she had ever seen thus close, ex- cept her father, for when the boat came, the factor's daughters were locked in their rooms. garth said a sharp word or two in some indian tongue. annette hurried away. barnes after a time rose and began to look around the room. “may i?” he asked. the old trader nodded, guessing his intent and watching him keenly. he took down two blankets of woven rabbit fur, a pair of caribou-web snowshoes, a caribou parka faced with wolverine fur, a pair of great fur mittens, an ax, a rifle, harness for a dog team. him a box of great matches, each a foot long, as thick the ship of souls as a pencil. "they'll burn when wet," said he. "'tis easier when a mon's fingers are frozen. best also to take along the old flint and steel, against loss of other means of making fire. "and when was ye starting?" he added. "now." "not seeing christine again?" "no. let me first prove i am fit to look at her again." "not waiting on the weather, eh?" "no. the weather will be the weather. have the women pack the sled with plenty for the dogs and some- thing for me—meat, tea—" "ye speak somewhat like a mon! perhaps i should ask your pardon. i'll say, god speed ye! i'd be sore to lose ye, now. "ye're not afraid?" he asked this last half sav- agely. "yes. why not?" "ye speak the mon, my lad! so god guide ye! if ye come back—it may be two weeks—three—ye'll tell me what ye've seen, what ye've heard—what ye've felt —so i can tell if ye're a mon?" /"why, yes." barnes laughed. "chasse galere?" / "chasse galere!" replied old angus garth. and presently he closed the door on langley barnes, who passed out into the open. he had spoken very x ..... the bargain of angus garth little. he now seemed to have the way of going di- rect to the first essential thing. "marie!" called out angus garth, now left alone; and this time the old indian woman who came brought with her another bottle, a spoon, a tankard of precious sugar. as recompense, her lord and master gave her a handful of sugar. the scotch he kept for himself. angus garth stirred and stirred in his glass a quarter of an hour, a half hour, gazing into the fire. then he set down the glass upon the table, untasted. he did not even look out the window. he was pondering this matter of a trade in souls. chapter v the test t n the open space before the cabin, langley barnes finished his preparations for his first journey in the north. a young breed stood at the corner of the house idly watching him, half smiling. the dogs, curled up, growled at the white stranger. at this he cracked the lash of his long dog whip savagely and gave an order which they understood. he held up the front collar of the harness and advanced. still growl- ing, the hair along his back erected, a great wolfish crea- ture of the group arose, pushing his head through the collar. a second dog came in like manner, a third, a fourth. the mctavish teams were well broken. barnes turned now after he had fastened the thongs and made as though to crack his whip also at the young breed. "go, you!" he exclaimed. “get the load for this sled. march! quick!” but as he spoke annette came around the corner of the house, smiling. she tossed on the sled load three the test pairs of moccasins with the accompanying squares of , duffel cloth. she added a pair of eskimo mukluks, oiled seal boots, traded at mctavish when the eskimo whale boats came up from the salt water in the summer time. "good when wet," she said. and annette helped her brother—the half-foreed was none less—to arrange the load of fish for dog feed, the supplies for the man, his robes and such other impedimenta as they held fit; enough for all, not too much of anything. annette cast an eye upward to the sky. "bimeby plenty." the fall had even now begun, white and dense. be- yond him lay a blurring wilderness. this was his initiation. laughingly, annette stepped between the guide poles, back of the gaudy hind sack which her own hands had embroidered. between them they got the dogs down the bank to the water's edge. and, since he really never again expected to see annette, nor ever to get back alive, he could see no reason why he should not kiss annette good-by, as farewell to woman and to life. he did so, much to annette's surprise, by no means to her resentment. even in the snow her sudden lips were warm, her clasp warm. "god, girl!" said langley barnes, laughing amus- edly, "where did you learn that?" the ship of souls but annette only laughed. "come back soon to me!" the runners cut through to the gravel of the beach for half an hour, but then the snow deepened. in the blinding smother of it no wise sledge man would have attempted travel, but his road lay between the bluff and the water's edge, so he staggered on, leading his team on a leash, not trusting himself to drive. in some way, he perhaps got on four or five miles before dark- ness grew too dense and he resolved to encamp. the sledge dogs obviously did not recognize him as master, and they were very close to home. they might desert. trusting to no thongs, easily cut, he found a few lengths of copper wire, taken from an ancient trolling line, and after feeding each dog his two white- fish, he wired each securely to a tree before committing himself to sleep—a proceeding not ethical but effective, which he never later mentioned. he made his bed as he often had before on winter moose hunts—scraping away the embers of his fire, and throwing down on the hot ashes the boughs which were to make his mattress. on this, his blankets; over him, his rabbit robes; under and over all, his canvas square. he racked up some green back logs, split some dry wood for the front, but made no double fire, for the temperature was not extreme. snow enough by morning he had, but the fall had the test ceased. his bed was a grave, his dogs so many snow heaps. but he made shift with breakfast, made shift to get his dogs in harness, and now was off on the first full day of his real journey. he knew nothing of dog work, but his charges were well trained and willing to follow, though for a time he held to the wire leash of the lead dog, breaking trail on the snowshoes. indicated trail there was none. the river's reaches were like lakes or arms of the sea at the greater bends. the great river had not yet fully frozen, so he must hug the beaches and make every foot of the shore line, his journey being at precisely the most diffi- cult time of the year. he pushed on, bravely, stub- bornly, till the light grew dim. he camped, as he sup- posed, some twenty-five or thirty miles from mctavish. that night, after his hour of work and his meal of meat and tea, he smoked by his fire, thinking of the warm corner of the house at mctavish where his bed had been. he dreamed also of other matters. again he could see the luxurious interior of his own home in the far-off city. it was rich in rugs, in pic- tures, works of art. he could recall the cushion-piled divans, the soft-backed davenports, the period furniture he himself had carefully selected. in fancy he carried himself to the great georgian dining hall of his man- sion, with its crystal chandeliers, its china and its an- cient silver—all different from the firelight, the tin cup the ship of souls and plate he but now had used. his own couch room, the marble bath, the boudoir of his wife—all rich, elegant, modern, the best—one by one he analyzed all these things, asking what of it all was really needful to a man's comfort. it came to a cup and plate, a knife, an ax, a roll of blankets, a fire. he could not have dispensed with any of these. and what was needful beyond mere comfort, lang- ley barnes asked himself? what was the real mean- ing of a man's life? what was it that gave satisfac- tion, what was it that made happiness? was it the ownership of yonder fragile though stately bit of human | sevres, exquisite as art could make, delicate, odorous, languorous, exquisite—the woman alicia, his wife, mis- tress of his home, bearer of his name? barnes found himself half upright, unable to bear the sudden sense of oppression. all the arts and arti- fices of the pampered modern woman seemed to drop away like crumbled silk from a broken frame, as had these so many other customary things from the re- quirements of mere physical comfort. . . . here he sat in the snow in the wild forest, with an ax and a tin plate, but the blood glowed red from his heart. he was not uncomfortable, but to the contrary. he seemed again to see, standing at his fire uninvited, the figure of a breed girl with red lips and smiling face, a woman of the trade, unable even to speak much the test of his own language, but given by instinct all the lan- guage needful to convey comfort and content to a man who now was stripping life of its usual uselessnesses. what lacked, here in the north? and had he not left alicia, the orchid woman, for ever in her sevres selfish- ness? what had she to give a man? what had the city to give? he sank back, his arm over his eyes. he had loved alicia, once giving her, at least in his imagination, as a young lover will, all the qualities a man wishes a woman to have. the change had been gradual, but, comparing the end of ten years with the beginning of it, how tremendous, how unmistakable that change! the increase of their material possessions had brought decrease in happiness to alicia and himself. he could recall the frown, the tapped foot, the petu- lant, impatient retort, the growing air of dissatisfac- tion, the increasing frankness and frequency of her criticism of all he said and did. patiently, wonder- ingly, querulously, then shruggingly, he had accepted these things as a part of life, and had gone the way of the american husband—until at length he had found himself in a cold sweat of comprehension, and had be- gun to ask himself whether this was right, and how much further his duty demanded him to go. and then, chilled in a cold and barren life which had icy sensuousness but no peace, content, nor warmth the ship of souls in it, at last he had pleaded broken health. and then he had gone as far away from his home and from alicia as the continent would permit, in order to give himself and her time and place to think, to frame some new and basic philosophy of life, to get at the fundamentals which had lain wrong, under their failure, and to re- adjust as she might say, since she no longer found happiness under his guidance. he flung himself back on his blankets in the snow in a roar of sardonic laughter. "alicia !” he commanded sternly. “tea!” and he saw her face. "alicia! take away!" he saw her face again. "alicia! bring in wood! after that, go feed the dogs! then mend my moccasins and fix this parka hood!” and then, at length, “alicia, have done! come to me. kiss me-no, not to freeze my lips, to warm them! alicia, take my feet into your bosom, for they are still half frozen from the trail. do as i say! no tears, no arguing! if all goes well with the hunt, alicia, i may get you at the trader's four yards of calico and six strings of beads, and a bracelet that is not of gold! because, by god! alicia, there's an end of this frippery of yours. and the end is now!" his roars of laughter made his sledge dogs whine and look at him. anons the test is that it? came again what he fancied he had fore-faint sounds, wild, high and far, mock- men's laughter broken with ribald song. s put back the rabbit robe and listened. then ied again, or thought he laughed though he last of the laughing geese, going south!” he the storm's driving them down from the arc- is. so! that's all there was to that yarn of sse galère !" ink back again, doubling his legs to his belly warmer, drawing the rabbit robe and the canvas face. he must sleep. he had made the tea ng, but he must sleep, or he could not break morrow. ... if alicia were there, how she hiver and weep! if annette were there, she out wood on the fire. and christine? well, it sleep. gain, past midnight, as he supposed, he found awake, alone in the white wilderness. his re standing, hair erect on their shoulders, whin- in t growling. the leader raised his head and gave it to the very voice of the mysterious, uncon- quered, terrible north—the howl of the northern dog, gifted with a sixth sense, feeling the menace of an un- seen world. "my god! what was that that passed !" barnes the ship of souls caught the bedding about him. he had spoken aloud, as men sometimes do in the wilderness. had it not been for the howling of his dogs he would have been sure that he heard, passing out over the forest, a sound like the far laughter of reckless men—the lost souls of the chasse galere. chapter vi , father and daughter the buildings of fort mctavish were not more pretentious but certainly were more ex- tensive than those of any company post in the north. angus garth was not one to waste money in cost or upkeep, and the commercial housing did not exceed the needs of a post whose trade personnel was so large; but another reason for spacious roofage was one which the company knew but did not question— the white family of angus garth, the only one sup- ported by any factor north of fifty-three. no mis- sion ever was established by either of the two great churches of the sub-arctics, but few missions had more or better buildings than mctavish, and in none was the influence of civilization more distinct. that is to say, here the white woman dwelt, if not dominant, at least apart. the main structure of the post proper was much like any other of the fur trade—a well built log house, carefully chinked with moss, carefully roofed with poles and moss and earth. at one side of the main i the ship of souls room, which served as general meeting place and din- ing hall, lay the personal sleeping room of the factor; and once this had been all there was to mctavish, for shelves and a rough counter then had held the trade goods in the main room. but long since an additional building widely removed from the central quarters had been erected for the company store, with a loft for goods and furs. nearer the river front was yet an- other large and strong warehouse for goods and furs. opposite this stood the quarters of the mounted police, a workmanlike log barracks, untenanted now for the past several years. a shallow loft over the living quarters was used for keeping the most valuable furs. back of the central building were two smaller log houses, in one of which, after her native ways, dwelt now marie, benevolent and wrinkled, known as the mother of mctavish among the loucheux and huskies who traded there. annette at times slept or lived in the other hut, close to her mother, whom she much de- spised. for sake of the white blood of annette, another room was provided under the main roof. it was a tiny apartment, at one side of a very narrow hall which led out from the main assembly room in a sort of ell or extension. on the opposite side of the hall a similar room was occupied by christine as her own. beyond these, and across the whole end of the hall father and daughter and its side rooms, almost as large as the assembly room, ran the white woman's apartment, built origi- nally for the unhappy mate of the savage man who brought her there, where after a few years she had died, perhaps the most wretched white woman who ever lived along the circle, and the one most deeply to be pitied. to this larger apartment, and its belongings, chris- tine was heiress, and tacit law gave her exclusive posses- sion. here in a sort of log prison, she had grown to young womanhood. among her books, amid her white surroundings, she dwelt almost wholly apart, with no concern whatever with the affairs of the trading post. annette knew fur, knew every breed and indian at the post or at the village, a half mile away, knew every dog, but of these things christine knew nothing at all. it was her father's fierce pride to keep her apart, as her mother, alice shoreham, had been before her. naught on earth save the perfect physical health and normal mental balance of christine—still strangely young and arrested in woman instincts—had thus far kept her from being even a more wretched prisoner than her unhappy mother had been before her. the main heat supply of all these buildings came from cast iron cannon stoves, but the large central stove was supplemented by a fireplace angus garth had built with his own hands of stone and clay for sake of his the ship of souls white wife alice, whose coming had altered many other arrangements about the post and gradually given it the quality which left it now alike the wildest in fact, the most civilized in appearance, of any of the upper posts. the best of these buildings, with their narrow little half-sashes of tiny window panes tucked up close to the eaves, with their puncheon loft floors just above head height, shallow roofs, squat chimneys, could be called no better than a hovel. far, far off, two thousand interminable miles, along a waterway broken by such savage falls and rifts and rapids of heavy water as no other but the cree half-breed voyageurs regularly could pass, lay the supply source of every item of white man's goods, white man's appliances, white man's luxu- ries, that ever found way to this sad, wild spot just below the arctic sea, and close to the most northern pass of the rockies, here dwindling down to their most northern tundra. a wild, starving land it was, where no plow ever had or could come, where nothing grew of crops, where no domestic animal "-ave the dog ever had or could come. a more terrible home than mctavish for any white woman could by no human imagination have been con- ceived, and angus garth was right when he said the white woman alone could never support the company trade. father and daughter yet here two white women, mother and daughter, had completed one tragedy and begun another. angus garth had lived in both. a sadder, fiercer, bitterer, more desperate man stood not in moccasins north of little slave. and now fate, accident, nemesis call in what one likes—daily was adding to his problems, until at times his burden seemed unsupportable. no sayage so unhappy as the most savage of all savages the white man gone back–because he always feels the god of his fathers looking down on him in his re- version. in surroundings such as these, with perplexities thickening upon him, angus garth now strangely missed the presence of the new young white man who had so unhesitatingly gone out alone into the storm in a wilderness of which he knew so little. he hated this young man as in general he hated all men, but in spite of the hatred he felt a certain admiration for him more, a certain sympathy, for here was a man who also had suffered by reason of a woman. again and again, conquering the implacable north, had angus garth turned adverse circumstances into fur. could he now, with no better materials than these at hand, work some solution of a problem in which the happiness of two white women-one dead these twenty years—was so terribly entangled? well, he had conceded his own soul lost. he did not hesitate the ship of souls to cast this young man's soul additional into the trade scales of the fates. for three days after the departure of barnes the old factor held muttering, drinking, smoking, to his own room, and hardly saw another soul. then he went to the door of the narrow dark passageway and called. "christine! christine !” that he called twice was proof of his agitation, for one word usually was the limit with this man of yea and nay when one word possibly could serve. she came and stood, as seemed to be the custom of all who came into the presence of the master of mc- tavish. her costume could not ever much change, but the keen eye of angus garth noted a ribbon at her throat, another in her hair. he never before had known how splendid was her hair, till he saw it piled high, deep and rich, ribbon-bound in some way he never had seen --and which she herself had never seen beyond a pic- tured page. christine had never seen a white girl in her life. “ye're bonnie, lass,” said angus garth, suddenly. “sit ye down.” when they spoke intimately together, or when either was much hurried along by any emotion, they seemed to drop into the scotch way of speech which once had been native with garth, perpetuated by associations in the trade. father and daughter "ye'll be liking my ribbands, feyther?” she replied demurely. “mysel', i'm no sae bonnie.” "as was never maid mair!" exclaimed her father with fierce jealousy. "we've no seen sae mony, feyther!" she laughed, spread out her hands, her arms, deprecatingly, gayly, in a way he did not remember of her. “i make nae doot i'll be the bonniest white maid in five hundred miles. aye, there is no anither the like or equal o' your dauch- ter christine alang the entire circle for hundreds o' miles!” they both laughed. in a strange impulse of affec- tion manifested, which she had not known of him in many a year, he put out his hand and drew her upon his knee as though she were still a child, touched her bright glossy hair wonderingly, reverently, as though he did not know how she came there. she felt her head suddenly drawn down, felt the rough sweep of harsh beard as his lips touched her cheek-his first kiss for his child in twenty years. “dinna muss me, feyther!" she laughed, sudden tears at this in her own eyes, and wonderment as to what she ought to do. in this doubt, she kissed her father's fur- rowed forehead. he drew her close to him, but dared not try to speak, for his breast was heaving, and for the factor of mctavish to display emotion were a crime. the ship of souls "in ony place in a' the warld ye'd beat the bonniest, my love!” said he. "child, ye're mair beautiful than yer ain mither. frail she was. but ye're strang, christine, deep an' roond an' strang. and ay sae bonnie! god help us a', ye're so beautiful, child! mair so, i'm thinkin', the last month or so than ivver before the noo. why, christine ?" his hand touched her hair again. they both knew the answer to his question, but neither would voice it- indeed, perhaps christine herself did not really know why lately she studied so much more in her little mirror and so much less in the books—from which, for years and years, she had recited regularly to this stern and remorseless, teacher at mctavish. at last he turned her face square to his and their eyes met, his own softer than she ever had seen them. “puir lamb!” he said. “puir, mitherless lamb! how ye do need a mither! and here am i, not fit e'en for your feyther. unclean! unclean! 'room for the leper, room!' yet here are you, innocent and sweet, and aye sae fine, sae fine! be your ain mither the noo, my love. tell me—tell me, christine! hae ye no found in ony o' your readers ane word to guide us the noo? not e’en in the scriptures?" she nodded. “'yea, though i walk through the valley of the shadow of death, i shall fear no evil. thy rod and thy staff - feyther, don't you know? father and daughter "they shall comfort me'-don't you know? of all my books, that is the wisest one, feyther. times, it's fair grand.” "aye. i've forgot. said it not once, 'how beauti- ful upon the mountains are the feet of him that bringeth tidings,' eh, christine ? 'tidings o' great joy'? has it been so, christine? my lamb, what tidings for you and me?" she suddenly averted her face, but he drew her head to his shoulder, his hand gentle at the back of her deep piled hair. "are his feet beautiful to ye, christine ? and what tidings shall be his to my girl?" his old rage broke out again. "i had no askit him to come, christine. i would he had na come. but tall he is and manful, strang and not ill favored. and he's the first young mon o yer ain bluid ye've ever seen with those wonderin', askin', sleepin' eyes o' my ain bairn. god! were yer mither but here, or any white woman to counsel with! "christine, ye've read o' love?" "oh, aye, feyther," demurely. “the terriblest and sweetest o' a' life, christine ! nane may escape it. ye've not escaped it. ye've pit up yer hair! noo, what shall we do?" "is it sae terrible, feyther ?” "aye, it is. what shall we do?" the ship of souls "i'd no thocht o' doin' onything, feyther!" "wull, i hae thocht, gin ye have not! i'll tell ye noo, kirstie, child, love without marriage ye shall na have. love wi' marriage ye shall! 'tis best. 'tis the way. aye, ye shall be marrit!" "but wi' whom, feyther?” innocently. “ye ken well.” "but i'm no askit yet!” “shall we wait for askin' at mctevish ?” “the books say we maun wait.” “damn the books! i know! i, angus garth, fac- tor here, wait for nae mon's askin'! rose o' the warld ye are, child, prize o' the warld, chiefest amang ten thousand. ask? i'll no even ask him to ask ye! i'll tell him!” christine was laughing a bit uncertainly on her father's shoulder, her face hid. “what a strange mon, my feyther! i hae no known ye unco well, dear. i'm thinkin' we could hae been such friends, sae lang! we'll aye be friends noo, feyther?” "aye, by god! i'll be your friend, kirstie. let nane offend ye ! "but then,” he added, pushing back her face, “don't i know? the young mon disna live can luik on your face and not love ye, my ain. i'll but gie him his chance —and tell him what he maun do. “kirstie, girl. i couldna' help watchin' ye grow. the ship of souls mon. and damn his soul, he shall be happier than ony mon ever was, who marries you, my ain! if he is na happy, if he disna say it and show it, i'll" “what wad ye do, feyther?” “kill him, i suppose. brak' him in two." "oh, lawk! listen at ye, feyther, and we've not yet marrit him whatever! do not, feyther-let us wait till we've marrit him awa!” laughing, she buried her face again on her father's shoulder; raised it, kissed him swiftly once more on his grim wrinkled brow, and fled from the room, her hands extended, her voice still laughing. afar, through the blanket-hung passageway, he heard her voice-a magnificent, a marvelously rich and sweet voice it was—in an old scotch melody he knew well. she accompanied herself—with the least of schooling—on the little melodeon, so out of place here, which once had been her mother's. "ye banks and braes o' bonny doon—". each drop of liquid gold and amber and honey of her voice was a drop of blood from the heart of the old gray man who sat with bowed head in the outer room. chapter vii the murderer's will now the snow lay soft and white over all the world, two feet deep and trackless in the forest, blown thinner over the wide reaches of the river, now frozen across. it was the third day out, and though barnes knew little of sledge and shoes, he did know that he was afoot ten hours daily and thought he must average at least three miles an hour. he ventured gingerly on the ice close in shore, not trusting midstream footing. his dogs, seeing that the course followed always the shore line, would now go ahead when he dropped back on a stretch of thin snow. now and again he longed to steal a short ride while the sturdy brutes broke ahead, panting, courageous, but he held to his feet. he was putting distance behind him. his dogs knew he was doing his part, that he was their master. they would not now desert him. it was time to begin to watch the right hand bank. any ten hours, any forty miles now, he might find the lost trappers. he must not pass the cabin, though he the ship of souls did not know how it looked, or how far it lay inshore, or whether it could be seen from the river. if there was any back trail anywhere through the interminable forest of the black spruce, it was now entirely obliter- ated by the snowfall. the actual problem on the ground was a very different thing from the discussion of it by the fireside. he alone must decide. trusting to his eyes no more than to the instinct of the dogs to detect human presence, he plodded on, try- ing to master the steady trot with which he had seen indians and breeds cover five miles and more to the hour on the webs. he was tiring fast, for the deep soft snow was at its worst, but he got on in spite of fatigue, seeking the "second wind," traveling fatalisti- cally, as though all life were to be an endless succes- sion of one foot before the other, ankles aching, to the accompaniment of the panting of his dogs, the hiss and grind of the runners on the snow, hardening as the cold increased. he only knew that he was going to his fate, taking his test before whatever gods might be. his former life lay far back, in a thin gray dream. all the world was blue-white, with a frame of black. he never could recall whether it was four nights or five that he lay out, and it became a matter of indiffer- ence to him at what hour it was that he first smelled smoke. it was two miles ahead up the wind, when his dogs put up their noses and began to trot; and pres- the murderer's will ently he himself caught it, the scent-association quick- ening his pulse. man, his fellow, was near. he saw a tree, felled at the water's edge; made out a snow-covered canoe, bottom up under the spruce fringe. the vague thinning of the dark forest line spoke of an occupancy by white men. he pulled in at the path by the river bank, followed up to the open space, his dogs tugging ahead, toward the low cabin from whose chimney faint smoke rose. it was a house—a hovel, but yet a white man's house! here a traveler might rest and eat. more- over, beyond this feeling which the smoke-smell in the forest, the look of this red light in the window, always awakens in the wilderness wanderer's heart, here was the end of his road. this was the cabin of hensley and durgin, whom he had set out to find. well, at least some one was alive. he had not failed. he could get back to mctavish too. he straightened, drew up his belt. he heard no sound of ax nor voice as he ap- proached; no dog answered his own call or the keen and excited yelps of a young member of his dog team, a full-blood husky. why no reply? why then the smoke? was no one at home? there broke upon the air the sudden sound of strangling, cursing—the mad, inarticulate, brute sounds made by men in combat. there burst out from the ship of souls the cabin, into the trampled open space before it, the figures of two men, struggling, locked, wrestling, shouting like maniacs. they did not see him. it would have been fatal for either of them to have turned his gaze. the dogs instinctively halted. before barnes could intervene, or indeed could tell whether this was drunken sport or actual battle, the men broke apart then could be seen the gray gleam of steel. the shorter of the two men—both bearded, rough- clad like the customary white tenants of that far land —held in his hand a great knife, with wide, heavy, pointed blade, known for two hundred years as the "hudson's bay knife," devised as the most compre- hensive weapon and tool in one that could be thought out for use in an actual wilderness—ax, saw, butcher knife, adze, draw shave, fleshing tool, bone breaker, all in one. with this terrible weapon the frenzied owner now made lunge and chopping blow, one after the other, at the man who backed away—taller and heavier he was than the man with the knife. at the instant, the hand of the fleeing man struck a weapon, the long killing pole carried by the trapper as staff in his daily snowshoe rounds—seven feet long, heavy, thick as a child's wrist at one end, better weapon than nothing, at least, with which to face a the murderer's will madman's knife. barnes called, but they did not hear him. his team broke into a tangle. and it all was over soon. fiercer than ever, now that his hand held something, the taller man sneered, mocked at the other's offense, as, lightly, confidently, the staff sometimes slanting in both hands as in quarter-staff play, he parried or caught the knife blows rained at him blindly. once he swung the staff overhead, swift as a flash, and brought it down against the other's neck in a stag- gering blow. it was an unfortunate blow. the wielder heard the snap of the fibers of the light spruce pole. again he ran back, on the defensive. came then a downright swing of the knife's edge, and the heavy blade sheared the pole in two. before the yielding man could rally to the need of greater agility, his antagonist made one more sweep, quartering down, full arm. in terror the victim stooped, turned his body, his head, to avoid the blow. the edge caught him full force at the base of the neck and cut half through the spine. the jolting shock, the loosened muscles cut off, sent the head oddly, grotesquely sidewise—it was a man's head no more, but an object, belonging nowhere. all in a few sec- onds. langley barnes was not thirty yards away when the murder was finished. the ship of souls he hurried forward now, covering the guilty man with his rifle, for reasons of self-protection. "drop that!" he commanded. the man to whom he spoke flung the knife away into the snow, sank down in the snow himself, cover- ing his face, and sobbing like a child. yet he was fifty years of age. yellow-fanged, shrunken, un- wholesome, eaten of scurvy, the wreck of a man only, he was himself apparently not far this side of the grave. barnes caught him by the shoulder, kicked him into the cabin, and for certain reasons tied up his dogs with their bits of wire. the beaten snow was red in a blotch, there were points and spots of red cast far, as though a sprinkler had been used. he forced the living man face down on the single bunk bed, moaning, sobbing; shook him out of his hysteria. "come, drop this, my man!" he said. "i saw it all. what's up? are you hensley?" the human wreck before him shook his head. "no, that's him. i'm durgin. that's my name, william durgin. i don't deny it. are you a mountie?" "no, i'm a yankee. from mctavish. factor garth sent me down to find out about you. why didn't you come in?" "sick. been dying. i've killed the man who's been the murderer's will killing me for weeks. i'm glad. i'll die now. but i'm glad i killed that devil! "we was friends," he added. and indeed that came near to explaining the whole tragedy. two friends, partners, month after month condemned to the same food, the same routine, the maddening monotony which drives womanless men in- sane in army or wilderness life. then, illness, inabil- ity, a lassitude condemned as laziness, quarrels over trifles, condemnations, actual shirkings. then, in- creasing illness, and the mocking of the weak by the strong, sneers, taunts, neurasthenia—and at last the end in hysteria. neither really to blame. "i wanted him to go up for medicine!" sobbed the survivor. "weeks, i begged him to. he was strong enough. i don't know what got into jim. he went crazy. he'd sing, and say things. at night, me so sick, he'd lay by me and laugh at me, mock at me, call me names, torment me, till i'd cry. then he'd laugh. it was hell. we was friends. "it wasn't because he wanted the fur. it was only that we was friends. close together so long. us with several thousand dollars, awful lot of good fox. but he wouldn't even go for medicine, though that would have saved me. i've killed him, and i'm glad. to- morrow i'll be dead too. i'm glad i got him first. he was the first to go. i did kill him! i said i would the ship of souls i told him i would. and he laughed—the devil barnes looked around the cabin. the men had be good trappers. a year's catch was hung on the wa or stored on the cross poles that made a garret filo they had not come in last christmas, had not met t midsummer boat. deep-piled black fox, the whi tipped silver gray, the dark-shouldered cross fox, scoi of soft dark marten, many of the great arctic mir a dozen skins of wolverine-proof of art in their wo -yes, the two friends had been in a fur hunter's pai dise, these past years. a fortune was at their hana now one was dead, the other sure soon to make go his prediction of his own death. barnes saw that the man's violence, physical mental, was the last flickering of vitality left in a buri out shell. "durgin,” said he, “you are right-you know yı can't last. what do you want done? do you wa to make a will? i'll take it out. i'll do anything yı ask. my name's barnes-langley barnes, of m tavish.” "barnes-langley barnes? a new man? will our wills was each to each, and neither had kith nor ki chick nor child. lone men, both. partners, even u we come up here-god! i don't know why we can we was friends. the north—" "i'll lock the cabin as it is," said barnes. "is th the murderer's will what you want? we can send down next year for the mounted. they'll get up the next year, maybe earlier, and take charge!" "those fellows—no! why wait? who cares? lone men, lone men— friends. and both gone now! "i'll tell you what i'd do!" suddenly added the trembling man. “for the man who'll cover jim's face with a blanket-put his head back-i can't! i can't! ... but for the man who'd do that, and get me a can of red tomatoes, now ... and would cook a panful right here on the stove where i could smell them. ... god! it was tomatoes i wanted him to go get. i couldn't stand the spruce tea. we was friends. lone men. but if a man would do that for me, i'd—i'd- and you're american, too. my own people! i'd—” "why, i've got stuff !” exclaimed langley barnes. "wait—i'll cook for you!" he hurried out of the noisome place. his dogs were tangled. a certain smell was on the air, the smell of blood, of flesh, and they were mad. he cowed them, righted them, dove into his cargo, se- lected a few things needful. he was gone not very long, but had done what was asked of him. he stooped to enter the low cabin door -paused. the man on the bed was silent now. be- side him lay his will ... a few, lines scrawled on the back, dated: the ship of souls "it's all mine. for value received i sell and bequeath, give and devise it all to mr. langley barnes, this day down from mctavish. william durgin, once yank- ton, north dakota. amen. no other will." durgin was dead. whether this was bill of sale or last will and tes- tament, whether done by a sick man or a maniac, lang- ley barnes did not ask nor care. true, he was in all likelihood now, within ten minutes, several thousand dollars richer than he had been. but he had tried riches before now, and found them wanting—last year he was of the millionaires. the paper meant nothing to him, whatever it might or might not mean in law. then, all at once, barnes paused, blanket in hand, caught by a certain thought. he looked at the rich stock of furs. under the tests of the land of fur, what could be purchased by any man in comfort, in happiness, with these accumulated furs? what made comfort for a man; what made happiness? had he, langley barnes, successful man in business, a failure in content and happiness, now within reach both those things, all those things, which till now he had lacked? had he earned this by risk? had he made good in the wilder- ness? ah! his errand? how might it end, now? how about his test before the arctic gods? he would go back the murderer's will and put these things before old angus garth, who had sent him out to die or to live as the chance might fall. he took all the blankets and comforters he could find. since the men had been partners and friends, he divided these coverings fairly between them now. then he found caribou hides, moose hides, and lashed each long bundle tight. he could not dig a grave— he tried it; but with the short rope and block the men had used in their butcher work, he gave each bundle the burial of the air, as the indians of the old plains did. then he uncovered his head and kneeled down in the snow and said such prayers, in such belief in prayer as remained to him in his own disillusioned life. it was dusk. he fed his dogs. being practical, and being in the wilderness, he concluded it would be easier to camp in the cabin that night, with a fire in the stove. he kicked out room on the floor to spread his bed and did not use the bunk. after he had eaten his meat—and the pan of tomatoes which he had cooked for the dying man—he poured new fat into the lard saucer, tore a new wick out of a greasy dish rag, and by the feeble light began to sort and fold the furs— his furs, surely as much as any other man's now liv- ing, or alicia's. he had bought a black fox stole and muff for alicia last year. eight thousand, called cheap. when morning came, he drank a quart of tea, ate the ship of souls from a flour sack that would be used no more, packe his sledge heavy with its rich new burden, and turne back on his own trail to mctavish, his face grime with pine and spruce smoke, his fingers cracking a little but his eyes straight ahead. the dogs knew their master now. chapter viii annette and christine christine garth, musing alone in her prison-like room, close shut for winter now, tried to figure out an estimate of the time it would take the stranger called langley barnes to make his trip—if ever he was to return at all. she pitied him. he was new in the north, and knew nothing of dogs. perhaps he had perished, alone. angus garth gave it no concern, so far as might be seen. annette did no figuring at all. by some process, she knew the day when this white man would be back. on that day, no more than an hour before his dog sled showed around the river bend, five miles away, annette sat in her parka on the great slab at the edge of the bluff, the seat where angus garth himself sat motionless, hours at a time, the summer through. an- other hour annette remained motionless, waiting. cwhy? she knew that langley barnes would return at any moment. she ran down the sloping path to the river's edge. there she met him. barnes broke the icicles the ship of souls from his yellow mustache, rubbed his eyelashes, the frost not holding to his parka facing of wolverine. "well?" he began. annette pushed beyond him. "you go!" she said. "i fix all these things." she ordered her man to go to the fire, to eat, to be warm. she, the woman, would attend to the dogs, care for the sledge cargo. . . . one instant, langley barnes saw a man ringing his own door bell. a servant opened, took his coat, gloves, hat, stick. beyond, in dinner dress, waiting for him, was a woman, thin, beautiful, of faultless gowning, turning her cold colored cheek coldly to be kissed. having expected never to see annette again, he could see no reason why he should not kiss her in wel- come, as he had in farewell, below the bluff here, where none could see. he did so. she did not turn her cheek. her eyes half closed, her red lips met his, her body closed toward him! here in the ice and snow . . . where was more warmth than in any boudoir delicately prepared for love of man and woman! there at the top of the bluff, in full view of the windows, langley barnes, gay in the thought that he was back alive, blithe in the thought that perhaps the world was not all dead, flung an arm half in sport again around the young creature; and again she did not resist. she only laughed, as young women will. then, too late, he thought. annette and christine "marie!" called old angus garth, with little greet- ing to langley barnes when at last he entered. the indian woman brought what she knew her master wished. neither of them said anything about the trip for a long time. it was not etiquette among out door men. "ten days and the half. ye found it. ye're back. ye've done well, for a beginner. lad, ye've the mak- ings of a mon!" "by god!" he added, gazing at the young man's un- feigned indifference to his own achievement, "ye are a mon! the yankees i hate, each and all of them. and yourself i never welcomed! but ye're a mon!" he ordered in food and they ate. then garth filled his pipe and passed the buckskin bag of tobacco to the other. "and what did ye find, below? he asked, presently. "why didna they come in?" "annette!" called langley barnes. he knew she was just behind the blanketed door. she came and stood inside. "bring in the furs!" the girl complied. she brought in bundle after bundle, which she had taken from the sled, her own skilled eyes shining at their worth. garth took up skin after skin, his face cold, his eyes narrow but glittering as he graded, tossing the black the ship of souls fox into a pile, the silver into another. laying a skin over his knee, he paid no attention to the coat, but ex- amined the inside, at the root of the tail—all white; clear, fine, clean white! "prime!" said he. "good hunters. what a hunt! yet fools say the fur is gone! not mctevish way!" he sorted the furs, each species to its pile, his face immobile, hard. "ye'll have been making them no price?" said he, cannily, unconsciously dropping into the burr of his native speech, as he might when much moved over any- thing. "and whaur are the owners o' these? why didna they come in?" in answer barnes spread on the table the last will and testament of william durgin, bequeathing the furs to langley barnes. without use of glasses, the old man read, turned it over, read it slowly again. "why do ye come here, mon?" he exclaimed fiercely. "why do ye raise questions we never have had here? i trade for the company! this is in company terri- tory!" "very well," said barnes. "the company pays the hunters, the owners. it cannot confiscate." "oh, aye," grumblingly. "and the company pays." "what is right, aye." "no reason exists why the company should not buy annette and christine these furs of the owner or owners. the last owner is dead. he sold to me. you shall say who owns them now. if i do not, the dominion does. which makes the best shipment, next season, when the boat comes?" perhaps the corners of angus garth's eyes changed a trifle. "ye're a trader, lad!" said he. "not at all. i'm only a business man—and a yan- kee, if you like." "the factor at mctevish maun be a trader. good! but he maun aye be just." "as you are, sir." "aye! well, then, lad, ye've six thousand or mair in fur. such fox i've not seen in years; and we can pay high for such. in trade, of course!" "part in trade, of course!" the old man's eye twinkled. "hah! why should i pretend? ye've it in ye, lad! ye'd not stand for squeeze or bluff or crooked work!" "no. no matter what it meant. not from any man on earth! nor give it to any man." "such men have made this company! such men have made mctevish. such only can hold it for the years to come. and they are not many—the men who dinna cheat, but who are just and fair—nae so many— nae so many!" "with your pay for a hunt ye never made, for fur ye couldna buy, ye'll be going home next season, well the ship of souls paid for your small adventure in these parts, eh, sir ?'*■ the keen eye was fixed on him. "i would make as much in a month at home. what would it buy, there? why then did i come here take the furs. give them to christine and annette, share and share." "to the weemin? and why do ye name christine first?" barnes colored. "i did not know i had. she is older." "and she is all white?" "that might be why." "do ye think the company wad pick ye a white wife, for the trade among the people?" "did they pick her mother, for you?" "gad! mon—dinna drive home such a blow. but mctevish wants nae mair follies. the new factor maun be a practical mon—he maun care most for the trade, all the time, all the time. he maun know weemin is weemin! he maun have the natives come a hundred miles to have tea with his woman at the back door of the post—unbeknownst to him! and she maun speak their tongue. 'tis the trade! what yankee knows it? not ane of them all. "ye'll be going home, the summer?" he repeated, a cautious look out the corner of his eye once more. "i've not said.' annette and christine angus garth was a man of few words, an autocrat iwhose whim was law along the arctic, whose ways never were discussed. and since in two races he was a father, let none ask what now was in his grim, dour mind. "christine!" he called, suddenly. the girl came into the room, where in her civilized garb she never seemed other than incongruous. she stood, questioning, looking from one to the other, slightly flushed, her eyes very bright, eager. langley barnes again arose, instinctively. he noted now again that the girl was very striking, very womanly. he saw the faint color on her cheek. . . . clear as through glass her soul lay before his sophisti- cated, cynical eyes, expert in women, weary of women. ... as honest as the day, as true as steel, he saw her. . . . faithful, making a good wife and good mother. . . . and back of that, the worship of a normal woman for a normal man, a man who could assume the rights due him north of the circle. a sweet soul, an ungrown soul, a virgin heart, wasting— ah! his own heart paused a beat or so at this cool in- ventory. then he felt shame that he had made in- ventory. "stand ye together, both!" the old man's voice rose clear, commanding. "take hold of hands!" . . . suddenly langley barnes stepped forward, caught the ship of souls in his the hand of christine garth. in one swift flash he knew—and he decided like a fool, a criminal— or a man. he could not put away the look in this girl's eyes. he took his venture. she turned to him, the color high in her cheek, but obedient to the man who always had obedience, her hand lay soft and warm in his, not withdrawn. she took her venture also? or did she know? "christine, this lad's been marrit in his ain country. he's done with his old life for aye. he never will go back again. he'll be factor here, when angus garth says it. he's a brave mon. he trades well and fear- less, yet he's just and fair. christine, ye'll never see his better here. "do ye take this mon for your husband, christine, till death ye twain shall part?" the girl, comprehending now, suddenly trembled all through her body. she looked at her father, at this man—so much closer now than through her little win- dow pane. in a flash some new thing came to her also, some visitation, some answer, some swift and daring resolution. she could make no answer audible. only, she did not withdraw her hand. and since she looked at his face with sudden, shy reverence, since her hand unconsciously held to his the warmer and the tighter, since also now he knew that he was then the salvation or the ruin of a soul whose saving could be the ship of souls it all was over in one swift, compelling, unpremedi- tated moment. and now, indeed, he knew that upon him was the solemn charge of saving or damning a soul; yes, though that might cost his own. . . . well, till now, in all his life he never had known the glory of giving service to the world or putting himself and his interests back of those of a fellow being. “the rest shall be in time, and your ain time," said garth, simply. “ye've hardly met till now. rest ye easy and apart. not yet the feast. and mayhap a meenister may come, or ye come to a meenister, some day.” "marie!" the indian woman, mother of annette, entered. “your son!” he nodded to barnes. she stood, im- passive. “annette !” again the high, imperious command. and annette entered, to see the man who once had taken her in his arms, standing, holding another woman by the hand-her sister; in whose eyes she saw enough. “your brother, annette !” and then old angus garth, the tears rolling from his eyes, turned to the fire and dropped his face into his hands. "lord god of my feythers !” he groaned. "ha' peety. on us a'. i hae done the best i knew!" chapter ix langley barnes tidwinter came to old fort mctavish, the long midnight of the arctics. the na- tives of the vicinity had all scattered into the wilderness since the christmas trade, to wage one more battle with starvation. the few buildings of the post were long mounds of snow, which only the blue smokes identified as human homes. the vast reaches of the frozen river, mile wide, lay like level white plains. in the forest the snow was five feet deep, un- broken by track or trace of man, trailed only by the creatures of the wilderness who had fought for life for centuries here and learned survival. in the home of angus garth the same complex remained. langley barnes was moody and silent al- most as the trader himself. now and again it seemed to him he caught a gleam of contempt in the old man's eyes. for, as langley barnes made no denial, there still remained under the one roof two maids and a young man. and still the same questions came up in the young man's mind. the ship of souls he evaded annette and her arts now. what could be the issue of it all? was there a wedding or a mar- riage covenant between christine and himself? had he himself been free man or bigamist when he swore to cleave to christine alone? was it expected that the wedding should be repeated in case a minister should ever come? and meantime, was he married? had his wife by then secured her divorce? he could not know. annette, smiling, always ready and efficient, always waiting on him as though he were her own and that were her duty—what was the truth of that? could it be that angus garth had indeed gone wholly savage, devoting both his daughters to his double problem? at least, he said nothing whatever regarding annette, and he gave no sign to aid the man he openly had chosen both as his successor and his son-in-law. angus garth waited—waited till youth and the north should speak to langley barnes. driven in on himself, having time now if not to re- pent at least to reflect at leisure, barnes tried sober reason—too late. and then came the sting of con- science. then, the drag of habit, the grasp of con- vention, the shackles, centuries old. alicia, his law- ful wife—did she suppose him dead? suppose he were dead, what would alicia do? would she find another mate for her ease-loving life? would her frowning, petulant, nagging treatment of himself be langley barnes repeated with another husband? well, alicia might marry if she liked, as she liked, and when she liked. not one faint trace of male jealousy now remained in his heart. that was done. that slate was washed clean. so he knew he no longer loved alicia. why then go back to alicia? and if not to alicia, to what else? had christine known all this, she would have been happier. between christine and langley barnes now was nothing but his conscience. to the girl, the wedding had been an actual, sacred, solemn thing. she was unwed wife to a man she loved. he kept on reasoning. . . . was there so much savor in civilized success? what did it mean to rise early and work late, to keep the pace set by other men, to plunge into the hypocrisy and insincerity of business and social life? what was the actual and eventual sum in comfort in all that? was that life—did it hold all that life could hold? and what was here—a real woman, his wife, two doors away? yes—except for his conscience! langley barnes, full-bearded now as old angus garth himself, as grim and taciturn also, went out one morning into the yard and stood looking at his dog team. alex, the breed son of garth, approached. he no longer smiled when the new man handled dogs. the ship of souls “alex, how far up the river to the first company post?” “two hundred eighty, three hundred, may be so," replied the boy. “how much will you take to go with me?" demanded barnes. the breed boy understood, but hesitated. "ten skins (five dollars) each day, if you go." "i go," said the boy at last. “what you want?" "minister!" said barnes. alex shrugged his shoul- der. “all right,” said he. “maybe we lose it.” "if we do lose our lives, it's no worse than losing our souls here!" but to this alex made no reply, because he did not understand. “to-morrow morning, angus garth,” said barnes, entering the house again, “i start out for hope—maybe preservation—i don't know where. i'm going to bring back a minister.” the old man's head remained half turned over his shoulder, his brow frowning. "poor fool!” said he. “what need ?” "what the drivers of the winter mail packet do, i can do. alex will go with me." "ye're leeberal! ye'd take a son as well as two daughters! i dinna see why i didna shoot ye long ago!" old angus garth dropped his face in his hands. chapter x the twentieth man hree to five pounds of fish daily for each great dog of the team; half so much if needs must—it is easy to see that a week, ten days, must limit any journey between food supplies unless the march be starving. but at good hope post the travelers learned that both the minister of the anglican church and the priest of the catholic church had gone out on the august boat. their quest had been for naught. "alex," said barnes, "stay you here. go back to mctavish when you can get dogs. i go on alone— fort henry—fort preservation—i don't know. maybe i can catch the winter packet and go with the but langley barnes had in his heart of hearts no real intention of catching the winter mail sledge. he was putting his fate to its last test and traveling alone, a thing no man does on these long reaches. but still he headed south, up the great river, alone in the pale twilight that did not change, over the maddening blue- mail. the ship of souls each day, each night, then, should have strengthened him in that resolve to return to the god of his fath- ers—that same god whom old angus garth had sup- plicated for mercy and understanding. langley barnes stolidly answered himself that he was going back to civilization. . . . he was going to be a man. . . . he was going back. . . . aye, but to what? . . . and so he swung, between honor and instinct, be- tween conscience and unrestraint, between a man's duty and a man's tendencies. one day, out of the black forest, over the blue snow, in the gray night, came the figure of a tall breed, a hare indian, heading his sledge train north to good hope, over the immeasurable distances that barnes now had left behind him. "boojoo!" the salutation of the trade. "boojoo!" replied the white man; and produced tobacco from his hind sack; and asked no questions. if a man traveled, he traveled. but after they had boiled the kettle, the breed told barnes that twenty-five miles ahead lay the next com- pany post—a good settlement, with two churches. the priests of both were in their quarters now. there had been a sudden increase of that post, many white men had come—more than ever had been known. to this post the trail, cutting across a great bend of the mackenzie, would lead him by the following morning. the twentieth man his own sledge had left the trail broken and plain. so, presently, with no farewells, the two parted in the white and blue wilderness of the sub-arctic night. and now langley barnes knew that he must decide. he knew he was within striking distance of civiliza- tion—the church, the law, lay close at hand. by noon to-morrow he could tell some holy man his story. he could tell the story of christine and himself. about him lay a vast white silence. overhead the stars shone, curiously disarranged from their old places as he had known them at his accustomed latitude. the cold was like a fabric, enveloping, gripping close. a faint wind breathed across the forest as sleep began to come to him. a haze came across the moon. there might be snow. . . . he slept. he knew not what time he awoke, but when he did so it was in a world of cold faint blue silence. the forest no longer swayed and moaned above him, and the night was still. but a thousand voices sounded all around him, above all, a stirring tumult, coming closer —the sound of human voices, surely, mingling dis- cordantly—voices, shouts, a chorus of strong voices uniting in a wild song? could it be? no men could travel in such a storm, at this hour of a night like this. langley barnes reached out a hand, pushed an ember to the center of his paled fire. he had answer in what the ship of souls seemed a vast, gusty shout of laughter of strong-voiced men. the chorus of a ribald, rioting song seemed to come to him, a compelling music! something stirred the soul of the man in the bivouac, some reaction he had not known, some ancient viking call of valhalla, over the far vague spaces of the world, reaching to the cave of the heathen animal, man, dor- mant all these centuries, but never dead, always ripe to revert. the fire began to cast a shadow against the forest wall. he saw, or thought he saw, the sweep of a vast black shape, dipping above the forest. then he sank back, his hair rising, prickling. he knew it was not the chanting geese at all—they had gone south months ago; and this was going back into the north—into the wilderness again. . . . twenty paddlers, but one, ten at the further side, nine on that closer to him! there was the next man's seat—his own. and he heard the hiss of water—then, the roll of the paddles on the gunwale as the men checked the great canoe to land to take him in. . . . nay, is not the sounding of wave and wind sweeter in a strong man's ears than the skreeling of the street tram wheels? "chasse galere! chasse galere!" the passing laughter swept like a wail across the wilderness. the canoe had its passenger! the bivouac was empty. the twentieth man langley barnes saw his own blankets lying flat and empty. langley barnes felt a hand touch his shoulder. he saw a face-inviting, alluring. it was not the face of alicia, his wife. . . . nay, not new york—valhalla! at such hour as would mark morning, langley barnes arose and made his fire, rolled his bed, covered his cargo with the laced hides. "march!” he called, and cracked his whip over his team. to the post? no. within touch of church and state and law and custom, he had swung his sled about, and was faced on his own back trail. he was going back-but back to the north! at last he had reached reason. now he knew that, until he surely was free of alicia, he would take no holy man to deceive chris- tine. that was not the answer after all. weeks later, his gaunt and starving team of dogs rounded the bend and headed for the landing at the foot of mctavish bluffs, the sled followed by a single plodding figure. annette that day-as on many another day—had sat for hours on the great hewn lookout slab, staring over the dim white plain, where now no traveler could be seen. but here a traveler must show on the way to mctavish. the ship of souls so she was waiting, fur clad, fresh, smiling, radiant, when he pulled in at the foot of the path, his yellow beard white with frost. she took the whip from his hand, pulled up his parka hood for him, ran a swift eye over his gaunt, hard frame, his tawny frozen beard, looked into his hard blue eye. "you got no minister?" "no!" he croaked, hoarsely. then, seeing that her man had come back, whom she had had no right to suppose she would ever see again alive, and whom she had no intention of sur- rendering to any other woman in the world, annette kissed him—suddenly, without invitation. her lips were warm, even in the icy north. but now, he had thought. chapter xi the mad piper of mctavish etle pleased at the forwardness of annette, barnes stalked off, once more headed for the house, which now as much as any roof in the world meant home for him, not looking over his shoul- der at the girl whose lips now thrice had met his own. must there be a kiss waiting in some color for the male, in whatsoever corner of the world? was there no escaping woman? he called to mind his wife, thin, fragile, painted, a cigarette hanging out of the corner of her little, hard, cold mouth. a wax figure in a rich man's show window she was, that was all. at the door, as he stamped the snow from his mocca- sins, he bethought him of the fashionable toboggan party in the adirondacks, where alicia wore her galoshes as girls did on the streets, over thin silk stock- ings, one top turned down, one left wide and flopping —like the painted girls in the streets, in the cafes, half clad, with chipping sparrow warmth in them, but not vitality enough left to warm a kiss for a man who would dare the paint. well, here he was. it had all the ship of souls been a mistake. and a kiss was a kiss, in any color. ... or was it so? the melancholy of his eyes grew deeper. he knew he was going back now to a woman with whom could be no fast and loose. aye, and he was eager to see her face, albeit with this veil of doubt between him and her. he was not half using any of his senses. he had not heard definitely the sound that came full to his ears as he stood at the door. it was the squeal and skirl of the scottish pipes. here—how? no matter; across the parade ground where the indians and the mounted police played football under the midnight sun, yonder came the pipes. it was old angus garth, bare headed, his gray hair blown in the icy wind. he was in his usual sober tweeds, his feet moccasined as always. his eye was fierce under a bent and frowning brow. he strode high, sternly, as he came, looking straight ahead, chan- ter and drone at peak of their capacity. and never, in any wild corner of the world, have the highland pipes threatened and wailed to a wilder listening than now, in the far and forgotten north, speaking to the spirits of the arctic air. garth advanced to the nigh end of the path he had beaten in the snow, from the corner of his own house to the low barracks once occupied by the detail of the mounted stationed there. barnes looked at him stead- the mad piper of mctavish ily, concluding that he was not intoxicated, but only driven by one of his wild moods. if garth saw him, he made no sign, even at twenty feet. staring, frowning, absorbed, he did an about face at the end of the path with military exactness, and skirled off in the opposite direction, at the same un- varying pace. an uncanny thing to witness. barnes gave the courtesy of wild men to wild men's rights in a country where a man did wholly as he liked, did not speak, opened the door and entered. in the light, relatively dim, he was conscious of a figure moving toward him from the window—chris- tine. neither spoke at first, then barnes, after a time. "the old man ought not to be out there. is he drunk?" "no, worse, sir," said christine, simply, "my father's fey." barnes nodded. he knew. he sat down at the fire- place, drew off his mittens, his cap, untied his mocca- sin at the ankle flaps. without a word he took the dry moccasins, the fresh duffel squares, which the girl silently handed him. "this can't go on!" said he, at length, savagely, turning to her. "there'll be an end of everything here. how long has he been this way?" "two days 'twill be. i can do nothing with him. he's fey." the ship of souls “i did not know he played the pipes, or anything. where?" "he's always had them—before my time. at his worst, he plays. 'tis to ease him, he once would say; but now he says nothing. only, when he plays, we us- ually hide. it may be years apart, his spells; of late, more often. i've seen him, from the window, this half hour. he'll freeze.” "the window—” barnes turned, uneasily. "oh, aye. i saw." "you saw what?" “annette does not fear our father. she no more than laughs at the pipes. "and i saw annette kiss you, sir,” she added, "you did not put her back.” "she has never told you?” said langley barnes, after a long time. “always. she boasts, mocks, taunts me-always. she says she will have you, sir. i would not fail to welcome you back, sir; but to see you just now- annette—and you! but how shall i help? and my father's fey! oh, i think, sir, i am in need of help. he's gone fey!" in her emotion she had dropped again into her fath- er's scotch fashion of speech. barnes was on his feet. he caught the girl by the shoulders, a sudden feeling in his own heart he could the mad piper of mctavish not name or classify, since it was altogether new. he swept the girl's hair back from her brow, looked at her eyes. they were soft with welling tears. his hands dropped. "my god!" said he. "who did all this? what is it that we all have done!" the scream of the pipes, approaching again, made the only answer, demoniacal. the wedding room trimmed and of abundant oil. the interior was the more illuminated because the walls, instead of being left of raw logs with ragged moss seams, had been covered not with furs or blankets, but with white drill- ing, so that at first they seemed done in plaster. and there were pictures, here or there, books on shelves. the room was at first sight a boudoir, for at the far corner was a bed, its counterpane smooth, immacu- lately white; and there were chairs, not boxes nor log ends for seats; even a sofa, or long divan, at one side. but all the center of the room was filled with a din- ing table, covered with a good linen cloth! there was glass, there were dishes, there were service plates laid for ten persons, the serviettes, the side plates, the flat silver all in place! he was looking at a marvel, a miracle; stunned, dulled, and uncomprehending as he so long had been. he stared, indeed did not have much thought. christine, in her straight, easy way of walking, stepped across the room and drew back a hanging cur- tain. it had covered not a window, but her little melodeon—the sort that mission churches sometimes have in this or another land, far out. at the rack were pages of music, additional music piled orderly atop the instrument. she ran a hand lightly, lingeringly, along the narrow keys. barnes stood uneasily silent. it was difficult for the ship of souls him to determine any line of procedure. continually she kept her face turned away from him, her head bent. at length she turned to him suddenly, her head erect, her cheeks burning. he could not see the inter- laced fingers of the hands she held behind her. only he could see her pride, her ambition, her shame, her humiliation—and something more. "now you know!" said christine. over the soul of langley barnes, now twice turned back toward despair, suddenly swept the returning surge of the white man's decency. when he spoke it was in the knightly courtesy of the gentleman he once had been. quickly he stepped toward her, his own hand insistent till at last she put hers into it. his voice was vibrant with a genuine emotion—pity, com- prehension, admiration, almost something more—when he spoke to her at last. "you have done me a very great honor, my dear," said he. "in all my life i have never had a greater— no, not in all my life. i see. you—you've been trying to get upward. me, i've been slipping down and not trying to get up. you're so much my better, i'm ashamed to speak to you." she moved her head from side to side, her eyes down. "ah! you've been a girl with no chance on earth —and look at your ambition! i've had every oppor- the wedding room tunity in the world—and look at me! i'm not worthy to loose the latchet of your shoe. a brute. a cad. a deserter. a foresworn man. a traitor to my race, my color, my blood-and to you! and look at you! oh, if you had not seen only the ill side of me. if we could get out of here" "we can not.” "i said, if we could." "if we could, you'd have laughed at me. poor igno- rant fool i am, castaway for aye, with never a chance and only a hope—ah, had ye not come, had ye not come !" "i said, if we could get out_”. “if we could, and if we did, and you'd once be ashamed of me, if once you'd laugh at me i'd die then, surely i'd die. and often-since you've come i've wished i might.” "christine! cease--you must not !" "my book said, 'pity is akin to love.' sir, i wish you might pity me, since i have such distress. but it is not pity a woman wants. if i knew you pitied me, i'd die of it. and i'm only a savage-ignorant, igno- rant, ignorant! tried? i don't know why i've tried. we met-why? why?” "we met on the hill, christine. i was going down; you were going up.” "to pass—at least—to pass! don't i know? well, the wedding room "no, christine !” said he, "we were not. time now for the truth, and all of it." she drew away to the opposite side of the couch to which he had drawn her. “then my one hope is naught! i am twice alone. now then i am damned for my father's sin, and my mother's! "but how could i see all this clear ?" she broke out. "who could have taught me? you, who could have done so, did not. instead, you kissed annette. are all men so ? then why should i have tried to figure out a husband, a man, a white life for myself some day, where i could be what was in me to be, where i could find—ah! for what good? if men there, in your world, are as they are here, what use for me to try? and if we were married—which we were not and never will be now-did you first do as all your men do, kiss- ing annette--so soon? and if you did it then, will you not kiss her again? well, who else is for her, now?” "i did worse !” broke out langley barnes. "i did infinitely worse! i stood before witnesses and took your hand and swore to love, honor and cherish you so long as i lived—as i 'shall, so help me god! your father said it was to save your soul. no, it is you alone ever can save mine. and now you can not. because, christine, i lied, i denied my religion, denied the ship of souls the law and the truth. god never does forgive those things. "i was already married, christine, when i stood on the floor with you! i promised i would care for you in sickness and in health, for better for worse, till death should us part. by god! so i shall, though 'twas criminal of me, to do what i did. but your husband in law i can not and could not be. husband of any other sort i shall never be. i shall save you from part, at least, of the contempt you could have for me." she swept a slow hand in gesture to the little white clothed table. her smile was a grievous thing for a man to bear. it wrung tears suddenly from the hard eyes of langley barnes. "it was to have been our wedding meal," said she. "a dinner? i have read all i could find of what makes a marriage, and what wedding customs are, sir. i— i tried to make it—nearly as i could—like the table of your own people. i tried to be like you! i—i read so many books—about etiquette, you know? all that. so you should not be ashamed of me. so you would laugh and kiss me, one day, in this very room, and say everything was right, and that you would not be shamed by your—your—" she choked, unable to say the word that she had her- self earned by payment of well nigh all a woman has to pay. chapter xiii mockeries eadened by the distance and the interven- ing walls, few sounds here were consciously audible. they were alone. they were young. by argument of many things they might have convinced themselves. but suddenly, as they stood silent, dangerously silent, they started, at sound of a distant slamming door. "he's gone to his room!” said christine. but she made no move to join her father, nor could barnes leave the place. he felt strange fingers plucking at his heart. the girl, strangely womanly, strangely gracious and gentle, rose and passed to the spread table. he saw her ever after in his memory. her body, inclined to- ward him, as though imploring understanding, her arms down, with hands spread a bit, fingers curved, confessed her shame in her ignorance of his own ways of life. but of coquetry, of appeal of any cheap sort, there was none in the face or body or soul of christine. her attitude showed only the longing of her life for the ship of souls expression. she paused as one at the threshold of his world, wishing she might enter it but ignorant of what might be within. none the less, she pulled herself to- gether and sought refuge in safer things. "in my books i read how the silver must be laid," said she, calmly. "they use first from the outside forks, is it not so?" her face was scarlet, but here was a brave woman. langley barnes sprang to his feet and joined her at the table side—their wedding table, which could not be. "well," said he, "the oyster forks—" "i know. they have three tines, rather a slim handle. i have none. let me use some little sticks to represent them." gravely, she searched about the mantel until she had found certain twigs she earlier had put there. she placed them as dummy forks. "i have never seen an oyster," said she. "what are they like?" he tried to tell her; could not. "ice we could have, surely," said she. "catsup, we get, in the stores, sometimes. i could make a—cock- tail—is it?—in whisky glasses, or we could have them raw—if we had oysters— "soup next, of course. i can do that, many ways. we'll say, clear? ioo mockeries "but fish? oh, now!" her eyes kindled. “some day, i had planned to broil a whitefish. the inconnu is not so very bad, but the whitefish, that is what we shall have! then we remove, once more ?" “yes, everything. we have now had three courses, i believe.” "in all my life i never have sat at a table where all was not served at once. in all my life i never have seen a man in what you call ?-dress-up, one's clothes--" "evening clothes. no, up here we could not wear them.” "and now~my knives and forks are all the same size, in toward my third plate, sir. is it right? i can do no better." "the fourth plate, really, christine. the service plate the butler just put down, but he takes it away when he begins to serve.” "how odd! and i never have seen a butler, of course." "the knife and the fork for the roast might be a trifle larger, christine. but as the servants quite often carve such meats, carving does not so much figure as—” "as with us? no, i suppose not. but, sir, you have quite forgotten the iced olives—perhaps a fresh radish—some celery? i have never seen any one of ioi the ship of souls those things! but we must imagine the two dishes—■ here, and here? they are glass?" "yes. very well. now, with the roast the man will offer each guest also, from a silver dish which he will bring, one after another, after the roast is served, perhaps mushrooms, or potato rissole, or potatoes in small spheres, christine, with melted butter and chopped parsley, perhaps? maybe an artichoke. maybe aspara- gus. maybe a sugared baked apple. maybe a very extra sweet potato, baked, candied, you know? maybe —but what is your roast, christine?" "caribou, moose. i never have seen a joint or saddle of beef or mutton!" "very well. it is caribou. now, the master may carve. the butler receives the portion. he carries it first over to you." "me?" her face scarlet. "that all may observe the hostess prove the dish—„ and show it, how it is done, you know?" "i?" the scarlet deepened. "but it is i who have passed—i who have cooked, have done the dishes, who—" "we are making believe," said langley barnes, gravely and simply. "i think we shall have a saddle of young caribou. then, of course, we shall have passed white wines and have come to burgundy." "it must all be scotch." the ship of souls luncheon, if you wished, you could lead with a salad, served with the first course. that's california. now is where you do the salad. smaller plates now, smaller forks." "and knife?" "we don't do salad with a knife. and—i forgot to say: asparagus and cheese straws if you have any— just the fingers, christine." "that's odd." "many things are odd. but the hostess knows—" the slow red in her face again, so that he winced again. but he went on gayly. "hearts of lettuce to-night, christine. we'll not do tomatoes to-night. can you direct the french dress- ing? usually or often the host can do the dressing— oil and vinegar, salt, paprika—not one in a thousand can do it right, but each thinks he can. or the man has it made, in a silver sauce boat, on the edge of the plate; and little balls or so of nice cream cheese on the plates, eh what?" "it's lovely!" said christine. but she meant it all, sincerely. "now the man or the maid, with her little white bow in her hair, brings in the finger bowls, each on a fresh plate—the best in the shop, christine; this tin cup will do. see, under the finger bowl, which we represent with this tin cup, for silver or gold or crystal, mockeries is a fine lace doily, christine, our best, because this is rather a good dinner we are doing." "and they dip only the finger tips. and the napkin has never been tucked. it never even has been fully opened, only half, and it's on the knees—" "wait, christine. not yet. see, we take the bowl, doily and all, from the plate, and set it on the table cloth in front of the plate. it's the last plate." "i'm so glad." "yes. well now, the man or the maid comes to the left side with the dessert. of course, we've had a taste of champagne at the salad. now the dessert—" "ice cream? i've read of that." "sometimes. but the french say no, even with hot chocolate on it. i've known a nice casaba melon find praise. there are light pastries, sometimes. you can have near by a dish of colored mints, you know." "stick candy only. from a keg." she spoke bit- terly. but he did not smile. "this is a modest little, informal, every day dinner, you know—" "informal? everyday? did—did she?" langley barnes nodded, his face suddenly sharp in pain. "yes. we might have branched out—entremets, that sort of thing. but this is a very good dinner, christine, so you need not be ashamed of it. and now, the ship of souls since it is not a big or formal party, you see, we can have coffee, all of us, right at the table, and the ladies don't need to go, because wine isn't used so much, lately. but it's very nice, if this is just you and me, you know, to go to our nice drawing room for the coffee. the man brings it in a high silver pot. little cups, very fine, on the silver tray, never large ones as for breakfast. sugar in lozenges, in a nice bowl, silver, i hope. little spoons, simple, but good ones. there's a very fine little creamer along, but i wouldn't use cream—or even much sugar—in after dinner coffee." "our napkins?" "they're in on the dinner table, just put up loose, not folded, say the half fold is in where we left it on the knees, christine. never tucked in use, never folded after—that's if you are well to do and don't use the same napkin twice, christine. very well. you don't know you've got a napkin, it's nothing to you. so now, with coffee, cigarettes, usually, you know." "women?" "quite usually, yes, now." "did—did she?" "yes." "was—was she—sweet?" "was i?" "i do not know. annette's mother, my—my father's housekeeper," proudly, "smokes a pipe. annette mockeries smokes a cigar—when the men are here. but-my napkin! annette mocks me about it. my father does not notice. but for three years i've had a napkin at every meal! i made these-four. but”-here the scarlet again in her fair skin—"i used one two or three days, quite commonly. i-i had a ring, of birch bark—”. “yes, i've seen silver napkin rings. that's in the line of mortuary record. now, since nothing hampers us, let's not. let's act as though means and ease and custom and assuredness—”. "oh, please don't! pity me!" she broke out. "see, see! it is all a play, and all a mockery to me.” “yes," said langley barnes. "it was all a mockery to me, when once i lived it daily. i came to learn of you." “to learn what, sir?” “the part of life that is not mockery. and now i've ruined that.” "hush!” she raised a hand, her ear catching some sound he did not notice. chapter xiv ave maria the door opened, without warning. the hag- gard, bearded face of angus garth appeared, blinking at the light. he had come silently down the passage, in his moccasins. "christine!" he growled; then, as the girl sprang toward him, he raised a hand to stay her. "i but missed ye. stay here, christine, with him, and have it out between ye. it maun come one day. "how came ye here to her ain room?" he demanded, turning to barnes. "just now i came, sir," replied barnes, "on unfinished business." "ye'd finish breaking yon girl's heart?" "father!" christine's voice, in shame, unspeakable. "oh aye; why not be plain? the time's short. so ye came to her room, for what?" "to pay my price, sir!" exclaimed langley barnes. "to sell my own soul also at the best price i could." "ye're meaning what? come, be plain!" "oh, i've told her the truth at last. i've told her i the ship of souls a rein on your tongue, man, or i'll put it there for you." "say ye so?" replied old angus garth, gently, calmly. "speaks any man so to me, factor o' mctevish forty years? well, well, well! if so, he maun be the new factor, eh? and has not the chance companion of the new factor favored him with more than a table fair empty? at least the bed could have been full—or the music box not sae idle. "has she nae sung for ye, the lass?" he demanded of barnes, suddenly, as the latter stood red with anger. "did she no sing to ye?" "no, sir—i did not know she sang." "humph! 'tis much ye know of your ain wife! sing? but for the singing of christine i'd have been dead a thousand times—lang, lang ere now. it's the nights, the nights, do ye ken? forty year." his mind really appeared affected, his mental processes dis- arranged. "christine!" he added, with the same odd gentleness. "sing to him! i'm gaun lie down a bit—sing so i may rest. gie my poor brain a bit medicine the day. sing, lass." he was gone when barnes turned again to the girl, his eyes uncertain, troubled. christine smiled. "you did not credit me with that, or anything? well, it may be i sing badly as i do all else. but this is first instruction. in music i am not quite so new." no the ship of souls come here. they go—and they are gone. my music i got from him, all i ever had." she did not even ask him why he asked his questions, though it was not for her to ask whether a sudden change of expression had come on his face. he felt it incumbent to respond to her delicacy. "you see," he added, "my wife, alicia—a har- bridge, she was—came from canada to the states. a mere child, then. boston; new york. she came from toronto, originally. often she went back. "but i am always indelicate with you," he broke off, suddenly. "here i stand, talking of—her. i want to hear you sing." "you will not laugh at me?" "did i, ever? but i shall not need to." "how do you know?" "i can not tell you. so, sing. what shall it be?" he stepped to the music rack, picked up sheets, edged over yet others, turned to her with wonder in his eyes. "but christine!" said he. "this—this is—" "music?" she smiled "rather! pergolesi—the 'stabat mater'? why?" "we sang it, sir." "and in this—the 'messiah'?" "for the most part he alone. but i would rather not that." ave maria "what would you like, then, to do for me? my mind needs medicine, too." she made no immediate answer. dulled, moody, he flung down into a chair and hardly knew when she passed him. he expected only stuttering regrets, the certainty—to sense more crudeness, some fresh de- mand on his sympathy, a new pathetic revelation dis- playing the barren barbarism and utter emptiness of life for this castaway here on the arctic shores. he turned away, that she might not see him trying to be kind, might not detect him in any lie of merci- fulness. so he did not aid her among the piled music sheets, hardly was ready when the banal little instrument gave a moan or so, a softer essaying, a note or two missed, till the reeds dwelt on the key she ought. then, gently, softly, tenderly filling all the little apartment, he heard a voice—at whose first notes he turned swiftly as though some shock had come to him. he knew in a flash that he might reserve his sympathy. "ave maria!" began the voice, "ave maria!"— gounod's rendition of prayer; at first, a wail, more than a supplication; then rising through despair to supplication; to confidence, to faith, to triumph! he scarce breathed, because he could not believe the manifestly impossible. as the number closed, the walls of the paltry little room rose and spread into the archi- " the ship of souls traves and nave of a cathedral space, and light through many colored glasses came into the lamp glow, itself at the last trembling in the vibration of a voice too great for that confinement. . . . and at last the sob of weariness and of peace. she turned to him simply, on the rickety melodeon stool, her hands in her lap, the great balance, the splen- did vast reserves of her normal mind and body leaving her not even more color, her bosom rising not so much more markedly. she looked straight into the eyes of langley barnes. . . . he knew, then, that there no longer existed a world which as children men once knew. ... no. there was a new world now, with miracles so unusual, there might no longer be anything miraculous. but certainly, this was a miracle. he did not speak. “did i do it quite right, sir?” she asked, still in that vast simplicity, that norse viking calm which always smote him. he could only nod, half choking. "perhaps it may make you feel better, sir-music? that number quite often makes my father feel better, when he is—bad." "but-but—this is a voice, christine! such voices -i'm no musician, but i know such voices—why, they're not found, that's all! i_" he blushed—“i was a vestryman in our church once. so i had to attend. the ship of souls little table. "no, i have sever seen an oyster. i have not seen celery. a fresh vegetable i have never tasted. i do not know champagne, whatever it is like. i have never seen a lady. i have never seen a table spread for the civilized. i have seen nothing! all i could do was to read! an orchestra? he told me of it, arthur churchill. many musics, all in one? i can not quite think that, because one instrument, two voices, is all i have ever heard, and one my own. but this i read, again and again. it is how i know orchestra—know about it, only—only just about it, as i do all of life— about it! "read it to me, sir!" she demanded. "i—i fear you might not like my reading. i would na like to have you smile. read to me." he began, giving her, from the printed page of a precocious, priggish school girl authoress of long ago (yet a born musician) that impression of her own dreams of music—that overture of the "mer-de-glace," in which a fantastic hero performs as leader of an orchestra. "at first awoke the strange, smooth, wind-notes of the opening adagio; the fetterless chains of ice seemed to close around my heart. the movement had no bland- ness in its solemnity, and so still and shiftless was the grouping of the harmonies, that a frigidity, actual as well as ideal, passed over my pores and hushed my ave maria pulses. after a hundred such tense yet clinging chords, the sustaining calm was illustrated, not broken, by a serpentine phrase of one lone oboe, pianissimo over the piano surface, which it crisped not, but on and above which it breathed like the track of a sunbeam aslant from a parted cloud. "the slightest possible retardation at its close brought us to the refrain of the simple adagio, interrupted again by a rush of violoncello notes, rapid and low, like some sudden undercurrent striving to burst through the frozen sweetness. then spread wide the subject, as plains upon plains of water-land, though the time was gradually increased. amplifications of the same har- monies introduced a fresh accession of violoncello and oboe contrasted artfully in syncopation, till at length the strides of the accelerando gave a glittering precipita- tion to the entrance of the second and longest move- ment. "then anastase turned upon me, and with the first bar we fell into a tumultuous presto. far beyond all power to analyze as it was just then, the complete idea embraced me as instantaneously as had the picturesque chilliness of the first. i have called it tumultuous—but merely in respect to rhythm; the harmonies were as clear and evolved as the modulation itself was sharp, keen, unanticipated and unapproachable! through every bar reigned that vividly enunciated ideal, whose the ship of souls expression pertains to the one will alone in any age— the ideal, that binding together in suggestive imagery every form of beauty, symbolizes and represents some- thing beyond them all. "here over the surge-like but fast-bound motivo— only like those tost ice-waves, dead still in their heaped- up crests—were certain swelling crescendos of a second subject, so unutterably, if vaguely, sweet, that the souls of all deep blue alp-flowers, the clarity of all high blue skies, had surely passed into them, and were pass- ing from them again. . . . "it was not until the very submerging climax that the playing of anastase was recalled to me. then, amidst long ringing notes of the wild horns, and inter- mittent sighs of the milder wood, swept from the violins a torrent of coruscant arpeggi, and above them all i heard his tone, keen but solvent, as his bow seemed to divide the very strings with fire, and i felt as if some spark had fallen upon my fingers to kindle mine. as soon as it was over, i looked up, and laughed in his face with sheer pleasure." . . . he ceased. christine was elate, exalted, beating her hands together. "ah! almost i could laugh with pleasure!" he raised his eyes, in new respect, to the enigmatic creature before him. tears now in turn were in her eyes. the ship of souls you do go back in your readings! are all your books of a hundred years ago?" "my life is far more than a hundred years ago, sir. [with the company, a century is naught. we do not change. does love? would na this do? 'twas what one named coleridge said of love, to a friend, long, long ago. read that also to me, sir!" therefore he began in such words as must be cold enough epithalamium. "this i many years ago planned as the subject mat- ter of a poem, viz., long and deep affections suddenly, in one moment, flash-transmuted into love. in short, i believe that love (as distinguished both from lust and that habitual attachment which may include many objects diversifying itself by degrees only), that that feeling (or whatever it may be more aptly called), that specific mode of being, which one object only can pos- sess and possess totally, is always the abrupt creation of a moment, though years of dawning may have pre- ceded. "i said dawning, for often as i have watched the sun rising from the thinning, diluting blue to the whitening, to the fawn colored, the pink, the crimson, the glory, yet still the sun itself has always started up out of the horizon! between the brightest hues of the dawning, and the first rim of the sun itself, there is a chasm—all before were differences of degrees, pass- ave maria ing and dissolving into each other—but this is a differ- ence of kind-a chasm of kind in a continuity of time; and as no man who had ever watched for the rise of the sun could understand what i mean, so can no man who had not been in love understand what love is, though he will be sure to imagine and believe that he does. "thus a friend of mine is by nature incapable of being in love, though no man more tenderly attached; hence he ridicules the existence of any other passion than a compound of lust with esteem and friendship, confined to one object, first by accidents of associa- tion, and permanently by the force of habit and a sense of duty. now this will do very well—it will suffice to make a good husband; it may be even desirable (if the largest sum of easy and pleasurable sensations in this life be the right aim and end of human wisdom) that we should have this, and no more-but still it is not love. "and there is such a passion as love—which is no more a compound than oxygen, though like oxygen it has an almost universal affinity, and a long and finely graduated scale of elective attractions. it combines with lust-but how? does lust call forth or occasion love ? just as much as the reek of the marsh calls up the sun! the sun calls up the vapor--attenuates, lifts it-it becomes a cloud-and now it is the veil of the i the ship of souls divinity; the divinity, transpiercing it at once, hides and declares his presence! we see, we are conscious of light alone; but it is light embodied in the earthly na- ture, which that light itself awoke and sublimated. "what is the body but the fixture of the mind—the stereotype impression? arbitrary are the symbols— yet symbols they are. is terror in my soul ?—my heart beats against my side. is grief?—tears pour in my eyes. in her homely way, the body tries to interpret all the movements of the soul. shall it not, then, imitate and symbolize that divinest movement of a finite spirit—the yearning to complete itself by union? is there not a sex in souls? we have all eyes, cheeks, lips—but in a lovely woman are not the eyes womanly —yea, every form, in every motion of her whole frame, womanly? "were there not an identity in the substance, man and woman might join, but they could never unify; were there not throughout, in body and in soul, a corresponding and adapted difference, there might be addition, but there could be no combination. i and = ; but cannot be multiplied into : x = - at best, it would be an idle echo, the same thing need- lessly repeated, as the idiot told the clock—one, one, one, one, etc." he ceased. he had read faithfully, glossing noth- ing; but now he looked away, embarrassed over words ave maria which would have caused not the lifting of an eyebrow in the circles he had known. "so you have read a chemical analysis of love, christine, as well as a synthetic conception of music! well, then—" "aye! but it was not music! it was not love! it was about it, and about! that is all i have known. and yet i am a marrit woman, too—so long!" she obliged herself to laugh, smoothed down her apron quaintly. barnes noted now a very distinct dimple in a cheek, apparently concurrent only with a certain mood. but most he admired her courage and her calm, her simple self-respect. love? never in his life had he thought to study love, to ask what it was. women? why yes, many, many, as come to all city men of life similar to his own in a great center of luxury, of hysteria, of degeneracy. women, yes. but love? had he ever yet known it, or even known what it was? she went on, smiling and weeping both. "i have the shadow—aye, i read about it all, but i have naught in my heart, in my arms, sir. by sin i was born, not asking. by sin i have lived, not caring. no! no! mr. coleridge is quite right. one can not be multi- plied into one. 'tis with love as with the orchestra— i must aye guess and aye dream—" then at last her restraint broke, "i alone, an idiot chapter xv the dawson patrol it would have been easy to be a man now and not a gentleman. but that langley barnes once at least had been a gentleman might perhaps have been argued. he made no move of sympathy, uttered no word of condolence for christine. he sat silent. v how long it might have been, how long it had been, that they sat thus, neither of these could have said. but there came, suddenly, a concerted howling of the sledge dogs from their lairs in the open. seem- ingly the entire pack made off toward the crest of the bluff above the river. at the instant the door was flung open once more. it was annette. the breed girl never was riper in devil-beauty than now, the taste of a strong white man's kiss still on her lips. her oval face was framed by curtains of night black hair, her black eyes sparkled under the stimulus of woman blood come to its very zenith. her restless- ness showed her keyed vitality. even in the ill-de- fining garment of fur, belted at the waist, she was a compelling figure, above the stature of any woman of the dawson patrol that sort's happened here, and nothing of this sort is going to. out with you! "what's that row about?" he added. "some one coming?" "dawson patrol come around the point. three men, two sled. i come to tell you." which last probably was a lie, although the first was the sulky truth. the point was the timbered tongue at the river bend which barnes himself knew so well. he stepped out, following annette. in the main room of the post, he met old angus garth, who also knew the news. "'tis the patrol!" said he. "two weeks late. i'd thought it another party gone to join m'kinney and carter and the others that was lost in nineteen-eleven. christine! christine!" the call brought christine from her inner room. the old man was feverish. "quick!" he said. "my best! hurry! i must have my best wear—new moccasins, mind ye. and find marie and tell her to uncover the bottle of scotch i know she's hid. spread—spread now, and dinna stand there gawkin', annette! ye'll mind the factor o' mc- tevish maun be factor. that means for yourself too, meester langley barnes." he walked up and down, excited, his eyes wild, the fever of his mad fit still upon him, his hands trem- bling. the ship of souls for very relief from these sordid affairs, barnes turned to the open air, walked to the lookout point. be- yond, the white level lay spread either way for miles, the world bathed in a pale blue light, suffused over an inferno of monotony, the shortening of the night's eclipse now betokening the eventual passing of the long arctic night. to the cold, annette—who joined him here—seemed insensible. an excitement of hate, a flush of female eagerness at sight of approaching men, stirred addition- ally the animal-like fires of her bodily vigor. hands in her sleeves, muff-like, dancing, turning impatiently, her eyes were fixed on the group of wraiths advancing along the icy river, at times almost hidden by the caprice of cloud and wind and snow. they came slowly, wearily, literally hour after hour, though now they had but five miles to do. at times the vague procession stopped, again to resume its plod- ding. they saw a man, sledge line over shoulder, at the head of each team. two dogs only remained to each sledge now. there were three men. there should have been five, and the teams should have been full. indians and breeds gathered along the rim. the thin fusillade of welcoming rifle fire began for the dawson patrol, eight hundred miles out from the yukon town. but the hearers hardly raised their heads. leaving a trail of red behind them from the feet of dogs worn to the dawson patrol showing a sinewy, hard-framed man approaching middle age—one of those wilderness products hard to classify as to years; dark, strong, the black hair thin- ning back on his forehead, his eyes, full, prominent, piercing black, shaded by oddly drooping lids, giving him a singularly sinister aspect. "johnnie's an atlin indian," he resumed, coolly, pushing the bottle without invitation to the swart black- visaged native who meantime had stood silent. "we're both coast men, though not new on the yukon and the tanana, eh, johnnie?" he grinned as the native tossed off his portion. "go and bring up the loads," garth said. "my peo- ple will show ye." the factor turned to barnes, and in curt words made the men acquainted. "mr. barnes is a new man at mctevish. my son-in- law, he is. he and christine were married two months agone. he's to succeed me. forty-five years at mc- tevish, 'twill be, and this season's the last." the two, barnes and churchill, looked one another in the eye, nodded, but they did not shake hands. garth made the running. "i'd not thought to see ye again at mctevish, major. ye're in the mounted, now?" "yes. back in. i'd heard something of this busi- ness on the lower river, so came over the divide to look into matters. stampede, maybe, next boat season. i the ship of souls came out through the states, by skagway, to daw- son." "aye? and ye'd look in at mctevish,” was garth's dry comment. “and who wouldn't?” demanded the man called stikeen, whose bold eyes scarce had wandered from the face of annette, who, turning a dark eye now and again, sat across the room. “two such girls belonging here!" "they are both my daughters, sir!" said the old man, savagely. "ye'll ken that.” churchill's gaunt face was turned in query, "a dominie came up from the new camp? then there's something in this talk of strikes on the mackenzie?” "what matter?” said garth, calmly. “i'll no see it, nor want to. i'm through with the fur and all. i'm sax and seventy. but the company'll find no gap in the succession. she'll put in the man i say. aye, the son-in-law and the daughter of auld angus garth'll han'le mctevish anither forty-five year, and their children thereafter! fur? mctevish she'll always have the fur, whatever! i make naught of yon fool's tale of a stampede, for oil or gold or what ye like, below! this is the fur, mctevish! "christine!" he spoke gently to the pale girl who arose, still silent. “set ye the table for them, of our best. marie! marie! annette! busy now! the dawson patrol "and whiles ye eat, men, i'll aye play for ye on the pipes, the like i was the morn. oh aye, i knew ye was coming. should i be forty-five year a heilander cast awa', and not have the second sight?" before any fully understood him or could stay him, he strode away into his own room. the scream of the pipes rose again, boring into the tense situation in a room where might almost as well have been so many wild beasts crouching, eying one another. the officer turned to barnes, nearest to his own kind here. barnes returned the gaze calmly. "married?" said churchill at last, his white teeth just showing in a smile. christine had left the room. stikeen had crossed boldly to annette. barnes looked again at the haggard face of churchill, high, aquiline, aristocratic, the face of a younger son, wanderer, sol- dier, ne'er-do-well. "you heard him, i fancy," said he. "so! married? well—" "do you bring word to me, in the mails—to lang- ley barnes, say, captain langley barnes?" "how should i know? you were in your service?" "yes. and you were at toronto, where you joined on for the royal flying corps, yes?" "yes. and now i'm just out of worse. nearest squeak of my life, just now. and i find you—at mc- tavish!" the ship of souls "i have heard of you from my wife!" the face of the half exhausted man almost got a tinge of color. he tried to smile. "which one? the —other one, back in the states?" "yes—alicia. the other one, as you say." "then—this one?" churchill looked into the hard eyes of the man he had heard described as the new factor at this post, langley barnes. barnes? yes, he knew the man, now! ought he not to? and after this he would know the face. "that will do," cut in the cold voice. "not a word from you, about that one, or about this one! eat and rest, sleep, get strong as you can, as soon as you can! men have come here, as yonder madman says, who did not go out again!" chapter xvi mixed company the savage fluting of the pipes ceased—chris- tine had found her way to her father's room. the old man suffered himself to be led to the table in the main room. of the five men who sat at board, the adventurer, stikeen harry, was the most voluble. he spoke largely for the hearing of the breed girl annette, telling ever of his own deeds these fifteen years in alaska and the yukon territory, on the head of the stewart and the black, the white, and the shusitna, the tanana, the atlin and the earlier caribou. nowhere he had not been, and rarely in any but heroic role, leave it to him. his "eh, johnnie?" or "that's the truth, what, john- nie?" always brought a silent nod of confirmation from his indian henchman, between whom and his master seemed to exist some sort of understanding. "i've prospected and hunted from back of the mala- spina to the willow flats of the yukon, and both sides the yukon to the top of every decent divide," he ven- tured. "not a strike where i haven't cashed in, nor a the ship of souls big camp i don't know. but alaska's on the toboggan now, and a job with a shovel on a dredge is not for me. this new thing on the gravel river, gas or oil, is going to bring a richer bunch in by boat next summer than the cheechakos of ' , poor fools. and where's money, i'll take my chance to get my fair and reasonable share. "oh, yes, gentlemen, i've tried all the games in all the places. never doubt, i've been near here, and in fur, too. i spent two winters trapping and trading independent on the stewart, and a jolly good killing i made, two scow loads of prime. oh, gold, fur, oil- it's one to me. i'll take my chances. "and a rare lot of fur—in that other room!” he nodded to garth. “what price?” garth's beard curled. "what! ye think i'd sell company fur to any outside man? silence about that, sir !" "it is company fur?” "no. it belongs to my son-in-law. happen he gave it to his wife.” "i've not seen so much silver, and so prime, in twenty years,” said stikeen. "and where did it come from?” "what matter?" answered barnes. “but, since it is no matter—from south of here a hundred miles. two americans." "americans? what names? never hensley, dur- gin?" the ship of souls barnes pushed back his chair. "what!" exclaimed angus garth. "do ye mean to say the mounted, or the law, or the domeenion her- self'll look into any act of the company's factor at mctevish?" stikeen made no reply, but the glitter of his eye might have served. the old man only growled into his tea. stikeen bided his time. the meal, eaten half in anger, half in sullenness, ended at last, none so happily as it might. churchill as well as barnes was silent. the emotions of annette alone seemed to have vocality or expression in motion. she hummed an air, rolling her dancing eyes at church- ill, barnes, stikeen, now and again bursting out into giggles, with turnings, pausings, lookings over shoul- der, her head a little to one side or back as she served at table. she met christine in the kitchen now and again, and so loosed a bit of venom. "to-night, music? much music! heap sing with major, huh? how many men you'll want, eh? such good girl like you!" meantime the mail sack for mctavish had been brought up from the sledges, together with the robes and other packages belonging to the patrol. one of the packages, a small black box, churchill himself un- wrapped and jealously kept by him as if it were a treasure. then, exhausted as he was, he busied him- mixed company self writing his report on the patrol. garth prowled through the very limited newspaper mail allowed, his letters requiring but small time, for his world began and ended at mctavish. for barnes, naturally, there was no word at all. he had utterly dropped out of the world. he kept apart, moody and uneasy, not speak- ing further with churchill. "well, well, sir," smiled the latter to angus garth, pausing in his labors later in the day. "i'm sure i'm glad enough just to be here alive, by the fire of old mc- tavish again, and full of the company chow too. if you don't mind, i'll put away my heavy black box now. where? oh, i know the place—back of the old melodeon in christine's room. is it still here? and does christine still sing?" "fine she sings, aye. better. christine!" in answer the girl came once more from the kitchen, dish towel in hand. "take this man and his traveling case here to the far room. set it back of the melodeon, safe, christine. and when the two of ye have done that, sing again for me as once ye did. christine, your teacher has come back from the grave!" obedient as always, christine stepped to the door of the passage leading to the room where she and lang- ley barnes had met that morning. churchill joined her, carrying his small but heavy package. the ship of souls to follow us, what? we'll get plenty dogs right here." "no seeum fur yet,” grunted the indian. “no, but we will. come dark we'll use that loft ladder at the outside window. no locks on any com- pany windows, eh? well, that might have done once! times have changed, and the old fool don't know it. "now here. to-night we give that loft the once- over. we sneak down the best fox—to our sleds, and get it snug under the lacings, because there's a beaten path to there, and we'd be tracked anywhere else. we've got to keep in the woodpile trail, back of the house now. we can set the foot of the ladder in it, and it won't show." "to-night?" grunted johnnie. “aye-except one thing." "hah? dat gal?” “yes. god, she's got in my blood! i hate to go away and leave her, now! and for some reason, that girl's hostile to the yankee—that sour ball, what do you call him ?-barnes.” johnnie engaged in deep thought for a time. “take gal along !” said he at length. “her heap injun. you heap talk. heap hug-um. she come. plenty mad on other man.” by which jerky speech johnnie proved himself none so bad a rapid fire psychologist in north- ern half-breed sex. "her look!" he added presently, though whether between friends he meant that annette had looked at stikeen, at barnes, or some one else, johnnie did not make plain. stikeen was willing to use yet another interpretation. “look? looks? i'll say she has! there's a girl to go along, up here, johnnie. fast work, eh? well, we've always had to work fast, eh? if i can get her alone" johnnie kindled. “two team! her drive !" "and with a sled of silver and black-eh, what? 'and a girl like that? and a camp like gravel river promises to be? johnnie, boy, we've done worse." "to-night,” said johnnie, "you heap hug-um. me, i go up ladder. dam' fools sing, dam' fools sleep, dam' fools hug-um. we load. to-morrow night, us three go-gal, me, you!" “you mean, me, gal, you! well johnnie, i'll say you've got a head.” "pretty soon, old man lose it,” said johnnie indif- ferently. “die? oh, yes. he's nutty now. but we can't wait. no, johnnie, this job is made to order for us -fast workers, quick clean up-get away while they're studying over how it happened.” “ah-hah. but we got be careful, now. young man.” “you mean the yankee?” “ah-hah. him bad, no rub-um smooth.” the ship of souls "i'll rub no man smooth beyond the time i don't want to!" scowled stikeen. “i seize the fur and get to the courts—i'll make a case of debt against it. let him whistle. and they've all got to catch us first. "all right-to-night!" his jaw shut like a trap, his eyes narrowed. “i'll see if i can get that girl one side. maybe she'll throw in with us. there's some- thing on her mind about something. now what?" chapter xviii the news from palm beach when stikeen harry pulled the latch of the factor's room, the air was vibrant with sound —music of two voices from the room be- yond. langley barnes sat, his eyes on the door that led to the passageway. on his lap lay pages of the newspapers from dawson, unread, save for the leading article announcing the invention of a new radio telephone sponsored by the transatlantic radio phone co.—the firm of which his brother-in-law, ogden, was manager. "pardon—would you mind?" began stikeen, as he seated himself also at the cleared table, and reached a hand toward the tumbled sheets. barnes made no reply. the newcomer ventured fur- ther. "some singers, in there, what? i'll say they can sing a bit, eh? you see, as the major told me, he used to teach that girl music when he was stationed here at mctavish. a bit thick, eh? but of course, that's all over now." the ship of souls the maliciousness of this was not susceptible of chal- lenge. barnes gave no note, except that the color red- dened above his beard. "pictures, eh?" went on stikeen, coolly, scanning the sheets he had taken up. "well, thank god! the in- spector has a heart—he lets the rotogravure pages come through in the dawson winter mail, for sure the men up here don't ever get to see a white woman unless it is in pictures. no teaching a kid to-day a lady's feet are sewed on the bottom of her skirt, huh? i'll say not. lookit here!" gloating, his eyes ran over one page after another. "palm beach—where's that? warm, i reckon." he chuckled. "well, i've seen the dance halls at nome and ruby and fairbanks, and dawson afore 'em. but then, and again, as the fellow said—but then!" he had thrust one of the sepia ink pages toward barnes leeringly, male registering for male interest confidently. "why bother about the south seas? but a great comfort to us up here " barnes turned impatiently, a word on his lips that was arrested, because in spite of himself his eyes had caught a glimpse of something in the section that made him look again. "bathing beauties at the beach.—snappy snaps of fair society stars in the costumes of the season.— latest limelights"; and so forth. the news from palm beach enough of little enough was in the portraits to arrest the eye of almost any man, but especially was this true of one half page showing two youngish women, shar- ing a barrel as a seat, done in the audacity of their select set, limbs bare, feet bare, arms bare, jersey for the scant remainder. at their feet lay in the sand two young men also in bathing costume, laughing, smoking, one offering the end of his cigar in threat to the upturned great toe of the younger woman, who, cigarette in mouth, her hair done back by a tight band, her slender figure defined for all it at least was worth, laughed down at him in turn. the bill of specifications did not lack: "left to right, the beautiful new yorker, mrs. langley barnes; mrs. cutter-mills. at bottom, major arthur courtenay churchill, distinguished officer of the royal flying corps, great britain; mr. h. d. somers, new york, well known cotton broker now wintering in florida." and such other details as were required fully to elucidate these and other portraits on the same page of the section—one of the most successful pages of the sort put out that winter by any metropolitan journal. it now had found its way across a continent, up a long and winter bound coast, across a mountain range, down an icy river—to dawson; and thence had carried, on the wings of occasion, across those snow- the news from palm beach day, now, sweeping from corner to corner of the world. new means, swift means, of mind passing to mind, body to body—for what? why, for the old story of the igloo and the palm. one thing remaining, old as the temples of greece, the cathedrals of england, or the igloo of the eskimo! for if man survive not in his species, despite hunger, war or pestilence, the works of man are as of no avail. escape woman here? how could he do that, since he could not escape the picture of his wife, come so far to find him? "'sail right, all right," said the avid, glutinous voice of stikeen, bending over the page at barnes' elbow. "this one, left hand, is prettiest. some shape, eh? but to my mind her legs is a little too thin. now—" he escaped the blow of the crumpled sheet which would have caught him in the face, by pulling back in the nick of time. but barnes did not follow it up. instead, he turned, his face toward the door of the passageway. the duet in the room beyond had ceased. the silence now seemed to cry aloud in the imploring per- petual lack of the northland, which has so little, so very little to surrender. the air was starved, now that those two magnificent voices had ceased to rise to the throne of peace. now footsteps; the door opened. churchill and christine entered the room. some- thing about her was leaving her glorified. barnes was the ship of souls not so cheap as to deny that. why not? had not he, langley barnes, that very morning said to that very girl in that very room that her voice belonged to the world, though she did not belong to him? and if he loved her, why rob her of the one great joy and com- fort which life ever would be like to offer her—music? did it not open up to her an utterly new world? and had she not been living here in no world at all, dor- mant, in chrysalis, between two cycles of existence? "christine!" the voice of langley barnes was quiet but imperative. he pointed, motioned churchill also to look where he pointed. "christine," he said—and he spoke to both—"you have tried to have me tell you of that other woman. you have asked me what silk stockings must be like, so thin. well, here you may see that other woman with no stockings at all. and here—at her feet— you may see a certain man." "there are the names," he added, wearily. chapter xix propinquity it was within expectation that annette, restless as a robin, running staccato in broken bursts, halt- ing and peering all over the shop, should learn of most things then happening at mctavish. but in truth, events suddenly had outrun annette. some- thing was afoot in which she had not been taken into confidence. she had a vague feeling of inadequacy, a sense that here were things in which she had been adjudged too small for participation. and annette, even by implication rated as woman scorned, was a fiery, vibrant, vital agent of mischief. stikeen encountered her as she made a vague circle of the buildings, restlessly on the move. "well, young lady, whither away, now?" he demanded, and losing no time, gayly caught her by the wrists, halting her. his swift eye saw again how ripe and full her young body was, how somber her dark eyes. cynical phi- losopher enough, he knew annette was not happy. "you weren't looking for me, eh?" stikeen's voice and eye were not too bad. the ship of souls "no. i never heard of you before. let go. i must gather wood." "no? well, you'll hear of me again. the only trouble is, there's no real road from the yukon to the mackenzie. but look here, seems like i've read in a book somewheres about how fate brung me across the pathless waste just to meet you, face to face!" annette giggled appropriately. the clasp of a man's hand was nothing to bring especial fear to her. more- over, this was a man of her own level. not like those solemn people in the big room, who looked at the newspaper and said nothing. here was a man who spoke her tongue. she spoke his, a language as old as that of harold harfager, say, in early lands of ice and snow and maids and men. "now listen, my dear," begian the snow-runner. "life is short. we've got to live it as it goes, eh? well, who's here for you to care a cuss for? that moonias, barnes? he's gone on christine, like any new married man, of course. but now, she's maybe minding her old days with the major, here years ago, what? they were off together, christine and the major, talking music. moonias, he's lonesome. he's sour and sore. "now, your old man's loose in the nut—you needn't tell me. that bag-piping around ain't normal for no h. b. factor, no. there's hell to pay here at mctavish, propinquity and i know it—it's only taken me a couple hours to spot that out. "and it didn't take me two minutes to spot you out, little girl, now did it?" "you think you do fast work, you?" annette still felt her wrists in his hands. "well, why not? we come, and go. now, i only came here by accident, but it's a good accident. but i'm bound for the big strike at gravel river. i can smell money a thousand miles. i've made it and i've spent it, a dozen times, and i always shall. i'm a maker and a spender. a man might as well be shot with his shirt off on the snow as try to live without company." "i don't care. what you talk about? let go, i get wood." "wait. annette, yon man don't love you, though you're so much prettier than christine there's no nam- ing you in the same breath. i've never seen a girl like you." "what do you mean? me?" "yes, you! this is no place for you. you need diamonds, silks, made-up furs, flowers, champagne, money! what have you got here? i'll bet you never saw a silk stocking in all your life." "i'll bet so too i didn't!" "but you should wear silk. you're a plumb beauty. the ship of souls you're one of ten thousand, if all the women was picked. but you need a man to take care of you, and say, 'there, little girl, i done all this for you, and it's yours!' that's what you need." the toe of annette's moccasin was making a iittle circle in the snow. her eyes were cast down, some- times looking at this man's hands, still holding her wrists. "i could start a game at gravel city and we'd break the cheeckakos for every dollar they had—and they'll have plenty. you're nothing here. you'll be an or- phan before spring. if gravel city booms, the com- pany'll never run another boat this far north—they'll do it next summer, mark my words." "this post? no!" "i say yes. well, let them. you and i don't care. i can take care of myself here, or at gravel city or anywhere. and with you—ah!" "oh, ho! so! what you mean?" "well, all i mean is to give you something to do a little studying over. if things don't break right for you next summer, or any time, you send word to me. if mctavish is discontinued, it ain't the only place in the world. neither is the moonias the only man in the world." "pretty soon! you talk big." "pretty soon, yes—that's me. i'd take you as you the ship of souls down at gravel, yes. shouldn't be surprised if they'd build a cathedral there, build anything. shouldn't be surprised if we'd go to ottawa, some day, rich, and you'd be presented there; orphan daughter of old angus garth, the oldest factor of the company, fifty years in service, and left you rich—and beautiful. beautiful, annette. i say, little one. i swear—" she wrenched back from him. "i'm prettier than christine!" said she. "a hundred times. christine? pouf!" "but s'pose they find out what you said about the fur?" "let them. for twenty years i've not minded what men said or what the law said. it's what i say goes, with me. what i want you to do is to get me the key to that outside door of the loft to-night. to-morrow night i want you to be ready with the dogs and with my war bag packed. we'll leave this place, johnnie and i. all i wish is you could go too. what is there here for you?" "i've lived here all my life. i am scared." tears were in annette's eyes, suddenly. she too was woman after all. "all right. then stick. there'll be no mctavish here a year from now. the old man won't live till spring. you'll have no chance with barnes. churchill'd laugh at you. where'll you go—back to propinquity the loucheux? be a woman on a husky boat? try it at horsehell, where the whalers come? what's left for you? who'll you marry? well, if you can't do better, come down to me, a man that can tell the world to go to hell, and we'll have the priest marry us in the cathedral of good hope, with father clute's frescoes all around us, and a choir. which is best for you, girl —that, or a life of a cast-out dog, starving among the tribes between here and rampart on the porcupine, living on rabbits when you can get them? you're not all white, but i'm playing it as though you was, for i swear you're the prettiest girl i ever saw. me, i'm all white man and all man. if you don't think so, feel my arm; look into my eyes, annette!" she looked into his eyes, bold, dark; in her own dark eyes for an instant so much of the gazelle, frightened, that almost he had remorse. not quite. "to-night, then; slip me the key, when you can. keep up all the dogs, if you can around eleven or twelve —keep them from barking. my man, johnnie, 'll do the outside work. about the furs downstairs, in your room, christine's, we'll have to wait till the chance comes. where's the loft key?" "old man, he's got it; key in his room." "well, get it. don't tell me you don't know how—• get it, that's all. now kiss me, little girl! no?" chapter xx the conspiracy in fur n the assembly room sat now four persons; garth, barnes, churchill and christine. they were in utter silence, had so sat for an hour save for the sarcastic grumblings of old angus, in his half mad soliloquies, as he sat, head drooped, at the feeble blaze of the fire. he turned at last, with a trace of his old imperious- ness. “ 'tis all right, major churchill, to bring through his majesty's mails, but i'll be thanking ye not to ask the factor at mctevish to have at his table such a siwash as yon stikeen and his other native. i told them to eat with the natives." "as you like, sir," replied churchill, curtly. “they're not my men." "but even so," garth added, with one of the revul- sions in which his ailing mind now swung, “ye maun be weary. i'd fair ask ye to go back to your music, but ye're thin as a herring, and as red as ane, and as dried out and mayhap with no more tongue. sing, mon the ship of souls she drew back, would have repeated the blow, would have searched for deadlier weapon, but just then clamorings of dogs broke out under the open window, something in their note beyond their usual idle tongu- ing. this, and the startled scream of christine, brought old angus to the door. he pushed in, saw the two girls close, caught blood on the face of one, and thinking it must have come from a weapon at the open window, sprang to the opening, thrust through his head. very naturally, he saw the legs of johnnie atlin, standing on a ladder, working at the lock of the fur loft. this sight, while it infuriated the factor, sobered and calmed him. he did not lack decision. "quick, men!" he called as he sprang back through the door. "the fur loft's being robbed!" and just as he spoke, coolly, calmly, lighting a cigarette, stikeen harry opened the front door and strolled in. garth, peering from the window, had not quite caught sight of his heels around the corner. "yon's the man!" garth sprang for his rifle over the hearth. he could never have reached it had not the swiftly whipped weapon of barnes covered stikeen as he swung back his parka. churchill was not far behind. stikeen stood trapped. "what's the big idea, folks?" he began, his hand almost to his weapon. "ain't you excited? what's the ship of souls great fur loft, where annually a king's ransom lay waiting for the world. of course, he commanded the lighted aperture of the loft window. "up you go!" said langley barnes. he caught so full a grip at the collar and back belt of stikeen that the latter was rushed to the foot of the ladder before he thought. "cover him, garth. come on, churchill, follow me. if you make a wrong move, you, one of us'll kill you." a swift plan and a resolute, and like most such, one that worked. accordingly it was stikeen's head which first appeared at the window. johnnie, very much ex- cited, loosed off at it on general principles of dread, but being like most indians a very bad shot with a pistol, missed his man and only drove the moss out of a chink. a loud wail from stikeen halted his hand. "hold on! stop! who you shooting at, you fool! this is me, johnnie. don't shoot!" held helpless at the rear, and afraid to kick at the man behind him, stikeen bundled through the win- dow. barnes crawled low back of him, keeping him as a shield—he now knew where the man was hid. in- side, he straightened and waited for churchill to come in. then he pushed his bullet shield swiftly to the corner whence the shot had come, the prisoner all the time adjuring johnnie to come out and lay down his arms. the ship of souls he hurried away and returned with the handcuffs which always were part of a patrol's luggage. he slipped them on the wrists of the two men, slapped them all over again for hidden weapons, then marched them into the house. fault of better, he locked sti- keen to a stove leg, and johnnie to a bolt end, project- ing from a log, whose nut he screwed off, then on again. then he ordered their bed rolls spread down on the floor, so that they might feel the cold less as they lay there. "sorry, men," said he, at last. "you brought me through. but this sort of thing, breaking open the company fur loft, isn't being done. that's our ver- dict." "verdict?" exclaimed stikeen. "are you the court and all? let me tell you, you've not got us out to any court yet. if you ever did, what case have you got?" "breaking and entering; attempt to use weapon." "breaking and entering nothing! i had to enter that loft, with a gun in my back. as for johnnie, he didn't break a thing—he opened the door fair with the key, and the key was given him by the daughter of the factor of this post. she said she wanted to store some more fox up there, because it was in the road in her room. all he was doing was to help her. it ain't our ladder—it's the regular company ladder and the com- pany key. ay, and the company fur. besides, even the conspiracy in fur if it wasn't so, how do you get that way about me? what have i done? i came in here to sit down at the fire, open and above board, and you pull guns on me. yet, if it wasn't for me, you'd be froze stiff with them others. you'd better go a d—d sight slower than all this, my man, or you'll get into trouble." "i'd not talk too much," said churchill. "i'll talk all i please," retorted the prisoner. "this isn't any bally klondike rush, with a few of you red coats stalling around. i'll tell you now, i'll make trouble for you. all you've got to make even a sus- picion on is the fact that i have claimed a bunch of fur of my own, and i did that on a surrender by the factor of this post of all company title to them. i'm willing to stand trial on that, but i'm d—d if i'll stand trial on this business. you're in wrong. what's the matter with this place, anyhow? are you all bug- house, the lot of you?" "counsel you not to talk! it can be used against you," said churchill, professionally unmoved by this long tirade. "duty's duty, my man; so make the best of it till we've time to look into this a bit." "take it from me, there's a lot of things at this place that need a lot of looking into," grumbled stikeen. "toss me a cig'rette. or is smoking allowed in the presence of ladies in this jail?" stikeen, undaunted, always philosophical, rear- the ship of souls ranged his blankets on the floor, opened the stove with his manacled hands and shoved in a stick or so of wood. "shut that door, can't you?" he added, looking over his shoulder. "want to freeze a prisoner in irons? want to get rid of us? it's colder, on the floor—you ought to know that, you blighting booby. wait till i get you on the trail again! i'll jolly well let you freeze. you're one grateful pup, i must say." whose hands are clean? "yet i understand you claim the unlatching right, in spite of this." he waved a thumb at the picture of alicia barnes. "now, no use, up here, for either of us to beat about the bush, eh? we'll say the testimony's in. you make much of exhibit a. why? wasn't all that public?" "i can't say as to all of that." "well, as to that, i can't either, no matter how things were. a gentleman may catch fruit of a shaken tree, but he can't tell what the tree was, or whose." "take off that damned coat!" said barnes, savagely. he laid his own over the chair back. churchill followed his lead. "certainly," said he. "but why? can't we two at least know what we're fighting about? matter of clean hands in court, eh? you say you are married to christine!" "i have not said it. garth said it." "you did not deny it in public. neither did she. that is a marriage. well, i won't say it isn't as good as many. but really, how many do you want—all of them? do you want christine, annette, alicia?" "stop! that's my wife!" "is she? but you left her, deliberately. last december the divorce hadn't come through, but you didn't know whether it had or not. you the ship of souls don't know now. yet you console yourself once, twice, here, as men seem to do. well, don't we all? man, it's your affair, bigamy across the line—i've plenty to worry me more. but what i don't see is, why you and i, both men of the world, should cut up rusty over a perfectly natural and simple proposition. women have been women since the world began. you left the hollowest kind of a hollowness, your marriage, down there in the states, and you confess to me you've found a new answer here?" "not true! i've not found it," said langley barnes, hoarsely. "i've given her up. i've told her all about alicia. that's done." "is it? that leaves annette! but i'm d—d if i get this at all." "men such as you have wiped out all the lines be- tween moral and unmoral, between good and bad, since the war." "such as i? come now! why not such as we?" "right! such as we." "don't take it so hard, man! come, why be a silly ass about a perfectly simple thing? let's give the o. c. of the well known universe a chance. a wise and weary world, rather. nothing of the old left, now, except—well, call it women, if you like. deuced little mystery about that, what? why should you and i fight over it, when you and i haven't had the least to whose hands are clean? do with it, one way or the other? you were an officer in your army. i was an officer in mine. but i'd rather we didn't quarrel, really i would, because sup- pose you were left alone here, what could you do? suppose i'm left, if you like. can i solve it, then?" "you'd have free field then. isn't that what you'd like?" "no! you're nasty because you think i took what you threw away. yet you've taken here what i never did throw away. christine loves you now. that sort do not change. i know." "then you belie yourself. you know there are such things as women worth while!" "sometimes i'm afraid so." they sat for a time silent, across christine's pitiful little table. barnes tried to hide the little wooden oyster forks. "you need not," said churchill, quietly. "she told me. i know. she told me how you both tried to lift a soul over the red line into the white birthright. i'm d—d if i don't think you've played it square with her. well, so've i. i found out four years ago that christine garth has a voice—one of the world's great voices, mr. barnes, as i believe, and my education once was such that i ought to be able to guess close. well, i tried to educate her. oh, yes, i was mad enough about her, god knows, even then. i am now. the ship of souls but then i was a married man. back home. two years older than myself. no descent. both in the war work. well, i went through with the royals. she was in biarritz, nurse, all that, you know. well, she died at home, after the war, in bed and of the flu. "so that was that, of course. i did not need a divorce then. thought i'd come back to canada. rested a bit, in florida, and came on up here rather fast. but i got here too late." barnes stared at him. "not much to offer you, old chap,” said churchill, mending his cigarette. “but if you run out of soul, i'll throw mine into the scales alongside. we two don't matter. we've both had our chance and lost it. really something in this business—too deep for me. well, i'm not much of a student. so, i don't know why we should stick it, both hating each other, but as it is, i rather think we shall. rather do believe in that destiny thing, after all. must be something hid back. it must be my starving, don't you think? not fit at all-talk like shell shock. don't know that i ever let go so much, at all, before. but this place is so d-d strung-up, don't you think? "of course," he added apologetically, "you wouldn't charge any white feather, any begging off, would you? if i've done anything to give you a quarrel, very well whose hands are clean? «—i think quite likely i have. but since this d—d spooky joint has got me going, like, i want you to know two things. first, there isn't any possible ground of divorce for you, as far as your wife is con- cerned with me—not at all. of course, i'd deny that anyhow, but there wasn't. next, there never was any- thing between me and christine. i give you my word of honor. "so there you are. alicia neither loves you nor me, nor any man. christine does not love me, and she does love you. i found out that much, almost at once. "man, that sort 'll go through fire and water. a woman like that will make herself over again, for the man she loves. she doesn't love me, and now she never will. why she ever loved you, god knows! on your own count you deceived her at first, till it was too late, and she knew about you and annette—she told me all that, you know. "i say, i'm talking a bit, don't you think? but if we must fight, let's get it clear as we can what we're fighting about, please!" "i shall never fight you at all," said langley barnes, slowly. "now, or at any other time<- we are two rotters together. why should we fight?" they were standing, back to back, mute, when a sudden faint sound of tumult came through the hall the ship of souls deadened with hung furs and clothing. christine flung open the door. she stood, her eyes wide, the blood of her cheek not yet fully stanched, across it the livid red gash done by the whip of annette's hair. chapter xxii trouble at mctavish younds of conflict came—angus garth's voice, growling in rage; annette's voice shrill- ing; punctuating cracks of a whip lash. barnes and churchill rushed to this mêlée. what really had happened was this: when churchill was engaged in rescrewing the bolt-nut which held johnnie atlin's leg irons to the wall, that worthy had, in exercise of his ancient art, embraced the present opportunity to abstract from the officer's coat pocket the key to the shackles which bound him and his chief, stikeen harry. when, later on, annette had prowled into the room cat-foot, johnnie had tossed her the keys, and annette had done the rest. there is, however, something penetrative in too much silence. angus garth, in his room, suddenly felt that something was wrong. he caught down a dog whip from a nail and sprang into the room. what he saw drove him to frenzy—annette, stikeen, standing close, he whispering. with imprecations he began laying on the pair impartially with the lash he well knew how to the ship of souls wield. then, not failing to give johnnie a cut across the face, he pursued first one and then the other with the lash, and had blood on the faces of them both, before either could resist or flee. oath after savage oath came from his snarled lips. barnes, ahead, broke into the room just in time to see stikeen stoop, pick up his loosed irons from the floor, and hurl them straight into the face of the old man. garth fell like a smitten animal, in a heap, the blood pouring from a gash across his forehead. at the instant a swinging blow from the heavy barrel of barnes' revolver caught stikeen on the side of the head and dropped him cold. so now there was silence again, save for panting of men. churchill sprang to the flung irons and in a moment had stikeen hard by the heels again. johnnie was not yet freed. "by god! if you'd move, i'd kill you,” growled churchill to his limp prisoner, stikeen, and pushed a toe into him for luck. then he turned to find barnes trying to impound annette, who fought like a cat, precisely. blood was flowing from her cheeks also, cut by her father's lash, and both men thought that she and christine had suffered in the same way, for they had not known of the encounter of those two. “what do you want, girl!” demanded churchill. the ship of souls you d—d dollar-a-day mountie, don't you never doubt it. fine pay i get for saving your life on the crossing." "shut up!" rejoined churchill. "warn you, any- thing you say'll be used against you. wish you'd move a hand, so i'd have the heart to kill you. what you were planning, with this girl, was to rob this post, and i know it." stikeen blew his nose. the lash of the dog whip had laid it open. "you'll have plenty on your hands unless you do kill us," said he. "if we ever do get to a court, i'll have you broke for collusion in an attempt to steal my furs, legally my debt." "annette," said churchill, paying no attention to him, "go to your room. lock the door inside. push the key under the door, into the hall. quick!" annette broke into unrestrained and passionate weeping. "you blame me, for wanting away from here, with any man? what is for me? you white men think you can do anything with me. that's fine! let me go, even with him. then i'll not bother." "fair enough!" broke in stikeen. "and let you all out of a lot of trouble." churchill made a peremptory motion. annette, sul- lenly sobbing, rose and left for her own room. angus garth argues annually to mctavish, even in york boat days. this was angus garth's cathedral. here he brought his savage religion. the enclosed space held one gravestone, white and cold and chaste as the snow surrounding it—a grave- stone brought two thousand miles at an infinite cost in labor. the gravestone bore but one word. it carried none the less an unfailing hungry prayer. it carried the story of a life, two lives; carried contrition, rev- erence, confession, acceptance of a just and eternal punishment. but it carried no renunciation of the savage love of angus garth for the one lily he had seen in all his wild life—his love for alice, the white woman who years ago had sold her soul because of her pitying love for him, so lonely, so mad, so hope- less without her aid. it was the one hallowed spot at the wild trading post. like some gargoyle crouched, guarding, angus garth for a quarter century had kept every eye but his own off the one word on that stone. he did not even ask god to forgive him. he knew he could never be forgiven. his confiteor asked no mercy. he had never given mercy. he had lived by death of helpless creatures, slain for luxury of other women far away. but this woman had been his own—this slender white form which his own hands had buried here. he could see her now, calm and peaceful in her sleep, under the the ship of souls eye that watches the sparrow's fall. angus garth asked no mercy. he did not know mercy. only, for two and twenty years, he had offered up to what- ever gods there be his life, his soul, for sake of the rest and shriving of the one thing he had ever loved. he did not know of the two who stood watching him now from a distance; did not know that langley barnes also had removed his head covering—indeed, barnes did not know he had done that. but he turned, at length, and came straight back to them when he saw them, the white frost hanging on his beard like spicules on the muzzle of a giant moose. “come! both!” he swung an arm. they fol- lowed him, stood at the edge of the little enclosure, silent. garth again was saying his covenanter con- fiteor. nor could langley barnes escape the feeling that he stood in some vast edifice. the other man as he stood cast up an eye. it seemed to him he saw, swept before his eyes, the whole pano- rama of his own life; its rottenness, its emptiness, its opportunities, its success so-called, its vast actual fail- ures. the extraneous, the unessential, the useless—all these melted away in the white fire of the arctic ice. the passing laughing chorus of the twenty paddlers. had left him here alone, naked, face to face with fate at one stage of the old, old voyage-finished. angus garth argues what needle for the eternal galley of the damned, those who wander forever and make no port at all? his fellows. his companions. those with whom de- liberately he had taken ship? . . . was not that true? yes, it was true. he could not deceive himself here in this cathedral. he knew now that once—once, only, and at first—he had come back to kiss annette, to live with her, to throw away his heritage of the white man. but he knew too that since he had seen christine in her strivings to reach what he had thrown away—the white man's heritage—the face of annette had passed, the hot lips of annette had cooled. that madness at least was done. yes, two men stood here at the fence; and each was damned; and each said in his heart, "lord, punish me, but spare the white woman whom i pity against my- self! lord, i have sinned!" the mourning, sighing wind, like the chanting of paddlers, passed away, faint above the far black level of the northern forest. "ye heard it? didna ye hear it?" the old man turned to barnes. barnes nodded. "aye! the chasse galere! the damned souls!" again the other nodded. "ye came in it. ye've sold your soul for sake of her, a good woman, innocent?" the ship of souls barnes shut his lips under his beard and nodded again. "yes." "but ye started back again. to escape from her?" "no! to save her, as i think." "then why came ye back here? annette!" "i suppose so, once, at first. i kissed her once, at first, when i got back. yes. christine saw it." "there's places in hell for all that, i dinna doot." "no doubt. but i've given the last kiss for annette. if a native wife is needful for me in the post find an- other man for the new factor. not me." "ye love christine?" "i'm trying with all my soul not to love christine! i'll give my life and soul to save christine." he felt the girl's hand slip from his arm where it had lain. suddenly he seemed dizzy, on some brink; just without her hand on his arm. "then what shall we do?" "god knows, angus garth. for me, i care nothing. but i have no wisdom about it. do you think you and i could lie to her? we did, but what good? only the truth will do with christine. i've told her the truth, all of it, so help me god, whom i have denied." "about yon woman ye marrit agone? that's among the dead things of a man's life. didna i tell ye i absolved ye from all that, seeing the need here for a strong young man, white? it was no sin to cast off angus garth argues that. have i not lived here? do i not know the in and out of marrying? dinna i, angus garth, give the one or the other of my ain flesh and blood to ye, and take your ain soul in pay? didna ye agree to that? was not that our bargain—the last bargain? i drove it for the company—and for christine!" he was shivering, as much of emotion as of cold, with the physical look of a strong ague. he held in his own great hand the white one of his daughter. christine was raising the collar of his coat, pulling a scarf from his pocket to cast over his bare gray head. her face was like some ancient picture, calm, yet a grievous thing to see. "there's but one woman in the world for me now, angus garth," said langley barnes. "so help me god! it is christine." "aye." "but her i can never have. christine at least knows a lie, if you and i do not. she knows i still am married. do you suppose she'd look at me now? she never will." "but didna ye love my girl, langley barnes?" "sir, yes! i can not speak of that here and now, sir. i now can be faithful to her all my life. i can give my body to spare hers and my soul to save hers— why, yes, of course. but it comes to nothing. chris- tine is christine. we can not deceive—and we can the ship of souls not change her. her eyes see where yours and mine can not see, mr. garth. she's the white woman- good. we two are—men!” “kirstie, my darling, and do ye love this thief and scoundrel man, as ye do your ain thief and scoundrel feyther? oh, kirstie! kirstie, my ewe lamb! i'm sae alone! i'm sae alone! she's gone! god's peety, i'm sae alone !" his voice fell to whisper, to whimper. “i, angus garth, forty and five years factor of mctevish, i dinna know what to do! 'tis no believable. christine, do ye love this man? tell me !" christine looked at him in her straight way. “it were nae right, feyther,” said she, quietly. “ 'twere nae right! what has right or wrong to do with love? was't right i should love yon white soul? was't right i should bring ye into the world? child, by your accounting of right and wrong ye'd be a love child, a bastard, nae more. yet i ken god wills that clean souls like yours be born. my ewe lamb! kirstie, o kirstie, my child, my ain!” he caught her suddenly, looking straight into her eyes out of his own savage old eyes, pushing back the ruff of heavy tawny hair from her forehead, too digni- fied even now to kiss her, as he had been all his life, but hungry that she might at last know his heart. "in your wisdom, child,” said angus garth at last, chapter xxiv the maw of the north not far from the edge of the bluff, close to the portage path which led up from the land- ing, and directly at the corner of the log building which served as one of the mctavish storage rooms for furs, stood the gaunt frame of a singular machine whose counterpart is not known in the com- merce of civilization—the old fur press, where the bales of furs were made and lashed for shipment as "packets" for the far off, unknown outside world. through this had flowed all the furs of the mctavish district, that lying just below the arctic ice; the last stronghold of fur. hundreds and many hundreds of thousands of dollars had old angus garth baled here for his company. through here the lives of untold thousands of small creatures had passed. it was the guillotine of the wilderness. to it, innocence was nothing. it had no mind, no soul. it did not ill resemble a guillotine as it stood, with four instead of two upright arms, set in the earth, bound firm at their topi inside this lay a movable the maw of the north floor, carrying a racking frame, of pickets, into which the loose furs were cast before the compressing force of the leverage brought bottom and top together, the open slats then allowing the lashing of the packet, by now a small object weighing almost ninety pounds, which a sweating breed might carry up a sandy hill or over wet spruce roots on any portage without too much delay. at one side of this upright shaping-frame extended the long arm which gave it all its power, a log of spruce, thirty feet or so in length, thicker than a woman's waist at the inner end of the lever. the hinge was a heavy pin let into the frame close to the larger end. the arm extended thence with such out-board length and sweep as gave an enormous leverage when the detaining clutch was slipped and the free end of the great log fell through its arc. the crushing and cramp- ing force of tons lay in the lever of the fur press. it was simple, effective, crude, powerful, irresistible, merciless. the press of mctavish was the delight of the heart of angus garth. even when it stood gaunt and naked in the off-season, he would go lean against it, run a hand along the great beam lovingly, look at the voided rack as though he could even then see it heaping up, skin on cased skin, laid carefully, one hundred dollars on top of another hundred dollars, a fifty side by side the ship of souls with a fifty, and little twenties and tens between. silver fox to thousands worth, the rarer black to half as much, uncounted bales of the great arctic mink, more yet for the snowy arctic fox or the black barred pelts of the cross-fox; wolverine and priceless fisher— all these, each to its bale, angus garth could see here, long after last season's catch was out and on its jour- ney to the world. angus always especially loved to see, piled up twelve, fifteen feet high near by the frame, the snowy arctic fox. mctavish was the north post. here was the heart of the white fox ground. the eskimos, sailing up the river from the ocean in their priceless whale boats bought by labor of a family through years, brought in thousands of the white fox furs, so that at times they stood a snowy mountain, passing through the press, while the steamer waited below, and while laughing half-breed boys brought more and more furs from the log houses, in the harvest time of the north- ern year. then, the plateau at the top of the bluff would be covered with running figures; men trotting down the path under packets, trotting up again for more; indians in for next year's "debt," chasing a ragged footfall out in the bared space; tall breeds smoking aloof; perhaps a white man or so up from the boat; the gay colors of the tribesfolk, male or female, passing in a stirring picture—indeed all the hectic the maw of the north was sure that there was some side play. an inch, a half inch, here, would mean a foot at the other end— say, where the confining pin held the arm on its slanted shoulder. slowly, methodically, with the same resistless move- ment which always made him seem inevitable and ele- mental even in his little deeds, angus garth walked apart, searching for something. he found it, a smooth, peeled spruce pole, ten feet long, used sometimes in the baling. he picked it up, brushing off the snow, so it would not melt on his hands ... so that it would not melt? . . . he took this pole in his right hand and set the foot of it against the foot of one of the uprights. half supported by the pole, he climbed up till the toes of his moccasins were supported by the first cross bar of the cage. he reached out across the upper edge of the cage, his fingers finding hold, so that at short-arm he could draw toward himself. his head was across the top of a short slat where the first tie was shot on the made packet. there were now three leverages in the fur press of mctavish—that of the long arm, that of the pole whose side rested now against the inner end of the long arm, and that of angus garth's two arms. if he the ship of souls pulled against the rigid cage wall with his left arm, and pushed forward with his bent and shortened right arm, he could himself exert a powerful mechanical lev- erage of the muscles of his body . . . which would release lever number two; and free lever number three. in which case . . . ah, why ask if the snow would melt under warmth of his hands? no one saw angus garth, who scorned firearms but trusted traps, in his last proving of his ancient and beloved fur press. no one in the house heard the clang of the uprushing inner end, the thump of the outer end on the ground, just free enough to rest a foot above the ground when a packet was made in the cage— closer up to the roof of the cage when the beam was idle. it was idle now. its work was done for ever, so far as angus garth was concerned. the howl of dogs, premonitory, suddenly rose in the blue night. the body of angus garth, held up by the imprisoned head, swung against the side of the baling cage. . . . yes, the work of mctavish press was done. it had never failed. and because he understood it; because he had himself made it and so it could not fail; be- cause, once his mind had formed a fancy, naught human could change it and nothing of his nature af- fect it once made, old angus gave his body to the com- pany, and his soul to the chasse galere. chapter xxv the tempests that torment of all those who heard or might have heard the wailing dogs, annette alone caught the omen. by some primitive instinct, sudden terror came to her, as she sat on her blanket bed, a prisoner in her room. she sprang to the door, beat upon it, called out at top of her voice. "ah-h-h! open it! let me out! ah-h-h!" her own tones, hoarse, half inarticulate, held something of the quality of a creature caught in a house that is on fire. the two moody men in the outer room, guarding two prisoners who snored asleep on the floor, heard her outcry and started up. christine heard it, sat startled, listening. churchill went to the door, un- locked it. "what is it you want?" he demanded. "let me out! let me out! hear it—don't you hear it?" "what? i hear the huskies, yes." "they know. it's something. it's—" "it's what?" "death! there's some one dead! they never fail the ship of souls —they know. where's the old man ? listen—there they go!" the chorus swept around the end of the house, to ward the bluff front, a howling so bloodcurdling as might have set the hair of any man tingling at the roots. “run!” said the girl. “go find what it is !" churchill hurried to the outer house, passing the shackled men, just rousing to the noise. “watch them,” said he to barnes. he was out in the night almost as christine, hurrying through, called out from her father's room, “he's gone!" barnes and she followed. they all could see toward the bluff edge the dark mass of the gathered dogs, the full pack of mctavish, twenty or so. they sat ringed, muzzles aloft, and ut- tered a wail that no man forgets who once has heard it in the north, where many barriers are broken between man and nature. "what's it all about ?" churchill dropped annette's arms. barnes and he both started toward the dogs, across the open plateau between the post house and the warerooms, where stood the fur press. over the heads of the pack they saw something hanging old marie, who for the most part might as well the tempests that torment have been dead these years, so rarely was she seen out- side her own little cabin, came into the room where her chief lay on his bed, surrounded by these others. tears were on the broad and wrinkled cheeks of marie. she laid her forefinger on the top of the low spruce bed post and with a blow of the butcher knife she always wore cut off the finger at the middle joint. it was the red woman's way of saying she never would look on any other master now that this one was gone. thereto she gashed her arm across, and then, grasping a hand- ful of her heavy hair, not yet gray, tore it out, and without murmur laid it on the breast of the man who had been her lord, her deity. more, god wot, than most white widows do. annette was wailing now. the voices of her and her mother rose in tribal fashion, annette now more like to her mother than to the dead man here. chris- tine stood, white, dry-eyed and silent, wringing her hands together. churchill was impassive before a dead man, fresh back from seeing many dead men, who do not come to much, once one is wonted to the sight. barnes seemed years older. the weight of a sudden problem now was on them all. who now was head of mctavish? langley barnes knew that iron soul too well to call him coward or evader. he knew that in some way angus garth had it reasoned out that only by forcing the hand of the tempests that torment that i am in charge until a successor is put in by the company." "how do you figure that?" "by this will of angus garth appointing his son-in- law, langley barnes, as his immediate successor. it makes langley barnes his executor. he gives his breed children to the dominion, his property to chris- tine." "but that will has not been probated." "and can not be, here. until probated or refused probate, its provisions can not be set aside. i am the executor, without bond." "but we both know you are not angus garth's son- in-law." "no. but i am langley barnes." "and quite possibly the will may be set aside as that of a man non compos, eh?" "it may be. who shall bring that contest?" churchill colored. "oh, no. search would have to be made for any kin in the old country. so far as known, he had none. he seems to have dropped out of the world altogether. i never heard anything about him except the rumor of his being the natural son of a certain british nobleman. but of course, british law reaches here, and it will take its course. i'll have to take the property over. for instance, the furs." "you'll do nothing of the sort, british law or no the ship of souls garth had had his way! no. i brought myself and my old life in with me, clinging to my clothes—reek- ing of it as you do of yours. but i swear i'd have been glad to live and die here, with a girl like that." "girl like that—rather hard to find anywhere, eh? not to mention a voice like that. does she belong here now?" "no. nor can she and i both live here now." "but—" he broke out suddenly, facing the other man—"i'm acting factor of mctavish! i am the law north of the circle! listen, man—we can't avoid each other now. you yourself are the key to this. it's you who shall marry. and you shall marry alicia." "i say!" "yes, when i'm legally free of her, i shall be glad to see her hung legally around your neck, so you'll get enough of her, as a dog does of a chicken that he's killed." "suppose i don't?" "i don't suppose you won't. you're more alike than she and i are." the two looked quietly into one another's eyes. "at least, coming to business matters, about the new fur, of this winter," began churchill, leaving the main issue. "the hunters are over at the native village, in for the trade. what'll we do?" "i'll trade the fur." the tempests that torment "who'll interpret?" "alex." "how about annette?" "the new factor will handle annette, if he has to put her in irons." "the new factor comes on well! your capacity as divine providence does not yet fail you, then?" rather sneeringly. "and where are you going after you are relieved here as divine providence?" "to hunt any man who leaves any single remaining duty undone as to christine! then, if there's a wilder- ness left in all the world, i'll go to that. i thought i'd found one here. i wanted to get away from women." "we can't," said arthur churchill, simply. "no. i wanted to curse god and die. we can't. the law follows us. it's women make it and unmake it for fools and cowards like you and me." "oh, thanks!" "nothing can save mctavish—except christine. it will cost her her life and happiness, because of dishon- orable men, like you and me, and her father, and her father's father. we're not as good as the loucheux. they pay their debt. we don't pay ours. and then we find it never can be paid. so? then we join the lost souls. very well. i'm ready. it's only just." "you should go into holy orders, what!" barnes smiled. the ship of souls "well, i hope you and alicia will be very happy," sardonically. "she is an excellent hostess." churchill smiled, filling his pipe. "i've always taken 'em as they come," said he. "all rot, studying them out. but if you're bent on the wilderness and the elemental, cro-magnon lady, why not annette?" "hush!" barnes raised his hand. far off, faint by the doors and fur hung walls, came the sound of a voice; a voice in supplication. "ave maria! ave maria!" they both stepped to the door. the prisoners were sitting up on their beds. "who's that a-singin'?" exclaimed stikeen. "god!" "i want to tell you fellows," said churchill, to his two prisoners, "if you make any more breaks such as you did a while ago, its going to be ave maria for you, all righto. if i catch either of you ten feet away from where i leave you, i'm going to shoot." "aw, go to hell!" said stikeen harry, contemptu- ously. "you mounties make me tired. you couldn't hit anything if you did shoot. if you was good for anything, you'd not be working for a dollar a day haul- ing fish for dogs to eat. i'm thinking, one good western sheriff could run the whole of you off the map." "i don't doubt it," replied churchill cheerfully, as he the tempests that torment filled his pipe. "but then, it's a long way to any west- ern sheriff. i wouldn't start anything, if i were you, for it might not go through." he spoke confidently. a keen hearer might have suspected he had something up his sleeve. chapter xxvi both the women angley barnes moved away, towards chris- tine's room. he knew he had on hand a harder ordeal than facing two desperate men. he faced two women, half sisters, one with a long red weal across the white of her cheek. more than one man has pondered over a great painting called "sacred and profane love"; theme never yet absent from the world. surely annette, mutinous, riotous, desperate, inflamed, never had been more glorious in her devil- beauty than she was now, even with eyes still wet with tears. the dark olive of her cheek was fluid fire en- meshed. her flood of black hair was loosed in mourn- ing. her eyes, large and dark, now were not hard in wrath, but wet and luminously soft. no man living worth a man's name could have escaped the compelling femaleness of this unhappy product of two races. magnificent woman of her sort annette certainly was, and armed with the most unfailing weapon of all at woman's command. restless, glowing, electric, alive to her toes, she would not rest, kept pacing. now and both the women again she shot a glance at barnes, the corners of her little red mouth curved up—but now lamenting death, now suggesting life, the mouth whose hot sweetness she knew well once had made this man's mouth cling. would it not again? at her sister she did not glance at all. she was only the other woman, to annette. christine, fully aware of the crisis in which her father's death had left them all, gazed calmly, ab- sorbedly, at both these others. she herself was now in black. she had found an old, old black stuff frock that once had been her own mother's. this she had shaped and relieved with white bands at neck and wrists. be- cause the material was old and insecure, the neck, cut away, fell low enough to define a figure which after all need ask no odds of annette. the garment had no confining brooch. in all her life christine never had seen a gem or any article of jewelry, except the pinchbeck trade stuff. her father had flung her mother's little rings and brooches into the river when she died, that he might forget and have less torment. her tawny hair was rolled high, back from her white forehead. all her skin was milk white. she was the white woman, the nordic female. of such as her have come very much of the law and truth and justice of the world. the scotch fairness of her skin went well with her tawny hair, as rich and deep as annette's own. her the ship of souls eyes, though not so dark as annette's, were brooding and secret-holding in their own somber calm. she was seated, poised, unagitated, did not nervously pace up and down. she had read about life. now, here was life. under the arctic snow she had slept, the sun of spring had come. may the flower call back its petals when they have begun to unfold? can woman, her love beginning to go out to man, call back her mysteri- ous yearnings and bid them for ever rest again beneath the snow? it is not so. barnes spread down on the table the creased pages of the sunday pictorial sheet, which he had brought with him. as he did so he displaced one of christine's little oyster forks. he replaced it tenderly. annette snickered. "make it careful!" said she. "kirstie is very precious with this table! all time fooling with it!" frowning, not replying to annette, he pointed. "christine," said he, "this came in the dawson mail. i wanted to show it again to you—both. your father's gone. some one must take the lead here now. you both know he planned for me to do that. his will covers that—we've just found it in his desk. but there are some things must be known by us all." both girls were bending over the pictured sheet, a sort of thing neither had ever seen in all her life. both the women "look!" cried annette. "yes!" said barnes. "that was what i wanted you both to see, christine." pale as her face had been, it was paler now, as she bent over the picture of alicia barnes and arthur churchill, both conventionally naked and neither ashamed. had it been glyph of some rock cave, any savage woman could have read it easily enough. "yes!" said langley barnes. "that's the other woman, christine. alicia, my wife!" annette burst into a shriek of laughter. "what funny little legs!" "but that's not here!" she added. "long way off— where the goose come from, sir?" "yes. six or seven thousand miles, maybe." christine was folding over the page that she might not see it. "it is major churchill—and your wife?" "yes. now do you guess anything more?" annette interrupted with her ironic laughter. "well, i can guess! i guess some white men want plenty wives. but such funny little legs!" barnes went on, evenly. "christine, before i left home to lose myself up here, i was done with this woman. she had nothing to give me that could make either of us happy, nor could i make her happy. we had taken our gamble and had lost. i made over to her all my property, and i came up here. i planned the ship of souls to have it reported that i was dead. you know pretty much all the rest." “but he, the major? he never told me" "i fancy not. he didn't tell me, either. i don't think he loved her. but i knew she cared for him, not me. why should they not do as they pleased, if i was gone? and was i not gone?” christine drew herself up. her eyes held scorn, though she did not speak scornfully as annette had, only in wonder. "what a strange, small soul she must have had !” "you need not fear her,” said langley barnes. “look!” exclaimed annette, pulling away the pages. “horses! we have never seen a horse. there are two, at smith, at the crossing to the slave river, the factor said.” she always had called her father "the factor" when she spoke of him. "and dogs—such funny dogs!” she babbled on, pointing to certain fashionable italian greyhounds. "i guess they're dogs—or squirrels? what could he pull? and this, and this? sleds with no horses." "they are motor cars, annette. there are thou- sands and thousands. they run without horses. and here are the houses where those funny women live. stone, you see, christine. and these are carvings in stone. and what you see-these things in among these trees, are statues—figures done in marble." both the women "i know," said christine. "do you not know, i have read of all of this for years! it is the world— outside." "well, that's a funny country, outside," said an- nette. "see! naked—but they have on fur! that's a fox—black. see his white tip on his tail. one our foxes, maybe so?" she laughed in glee. "and the trees, with ropes on them," she went on, pointing. "what for? hang up clothes?" "no. those are the telephone wires in the city, an- nette." she looked at him. "not understand." "you put a little cup at your ear. a voice sounds in it. you talk in a cup. your voice sounds back." "and is it true," demanded christine, "that men in the war went below water in boats? i've seen our eskimos turn a kayak over end for end in the water; but of course, they couldn't stay under." "christine, men have crossed the entire great ocean in such a boat. they have flown across the ocean in the air, on wings. they have talked across the ocean to london—where our furs go to the company—with- out even wires, though once the marvel of the world was that one wire went all the way across, under the sea. this is that world, christine, out of which i came. out of it also major churchill came." "would god you had never come," said christine the ship of souls i suddenly. "why did you come? to mock us?" she sank back into the seat, trembling. "no! to use us!" said annette, with her devil laughter that made the blood of langley barnes chill now instead of glow hot. "well, all right. you kiss strong, sir! well, all right. this our country. it is much better. bah!" she spat on the pictured page, and pirouetted away, out of the room. it seemed to her that her man and her sister made slow work of kissing. but langley barnes turned dully once more to the other. "you have seen her now, my wife," said he. "i've told you about all there is. no comparison be- tween her and you." "no," said christine garth, coldly. "the compari- son is between you and the man i thought you were. "you see," she added, bleakly, "i'd been reading of men! they were—heroes. i'd been reading and seeing pictures of—of everything! ah, why did you ever come!" "to take care of you, christine garth!" said lang- ley barnes, slowly after a time. "to pay what your father said we both must pay for your soul." haggard, he walked up and down a bit before he dared speak further. he swiftly turned and touched the livid weal on the girl's cheek, in pity—the first time he ever had touched her flesh beyond a hand clasp— the ship of souls more. here is love, christine! i'm not good, i'm not worth it, and we must part. but look in my eyes now. i love you, and i always shall.” but since he could still keep back his hands, his arms, she could also. “it is fine you say it, sir-”. she even tried to smile a little, bravely—“now that you go!" "you knew it anyhow, christine. well, i have told him, churchill, that since he wants her, my wife, he shall have her—till his soul is sick of the orchid taste of her! so i'm taking away even your music teacher from you, christine. i'm closing even that world to you. i'm robbing you of every last thing in all the world you had. i hope you've only read of love-it would be horrible if really you felt it for a renegade and ruffian and thief like me. god defend that you have.” "but i have !" “but i have !"- the words of the quiet, self-con- tained girl cut into the brain of langley barnes like ice dropped from great height. he bowed his head on the little table, on his hands, clenched. she did not move, did not speak; had not spoken then until after a long pause; deliberately. "but i have !” her voice sounded detached, as of some one very far away. barnes raised his face, his heart craving her for every multifold sort of reason both the women that lies under every sort of love. but not now for him the burden of her body in his arms, the taste of her red lips on his. no. nor ever. he knew that. "then, if that's true," said he, "may god damn me to suffering for ever and for ever to pay for that! i am the worst and wickedest man in all the world." "you came too soon. you leave too late," said the voice of his judge. "you lied to me at the start and now you will not have mercy and lie yet more to me. you go—and take my heart. you go—and take my voice. you take my life, my comfort, my hope— worse, my imaginings. a girl's dreams! ah, i did not need to read of them. i had them. here, even in the snow, a girl dreams. oh! oh!" she choked, her courage at last inadequate. "i have done all that, yes," said he at last. "and i do not think it is capable of any remedy. i know you'll take no other man to help you. you're ruined." "oh, yes, sir. far more than annette is ruined. she can forget. i can not. i shall be quite alone. i do not know what i shall do. i can not leave here— there is no place in all the world for me to go. i can not stay here alone—not with annette. who knows what the company will do? i can not—i can not!— go back to the old ways of my father's life. he can not pass that on to you and me, not even if you could stay on here." the ship of souls "no, christine. i must go away, for that's the only way for either of us to start again." she spoke at last, in her reasoning, detached way. "i think i'd have liked to be happy—just only for a little time. i do not believe a man's love lasts when he is away. why is it we love men, sir? could love be, if two were apart?" "not as love should be, christine." "then i must go back to my books. we've been very faithful, my family, to the company, to the dominion. would they not care for annette and me?" "they might for annette, my dear. she is half- blood. the dominion does such things, or did. but this is annette's country." "yes. but i have no country." "no, christine." "i'm like my mother. she had none." "yes, christine! i do not know which shall be accounted most unhappy of you two, she who did not pause, or you who do. no, nor which has earned the deepest place in hell, your father who did not pause, or i who do, after it is too late. i don't know what is right. i only know what's hardest, and that's to leave you. i'm no good at renunciation, christine—i'm not that sort of man. but i do believe, from now on, i'm done with women. i never before knew what it was both the women to be in love. don't say it's because i'm up here, so far away. i'm trying to be honest, at last." "i'm glad you do not promise. major churchill al- ways promised. "but,” she added, turning to him, “if i thought you'd ever go back to annette, now, i think i'd die.” “i promise you i never shall. now i must go.” she nodded. he strode to the door. what was it turned him there? was there some sound, some low inarticulate sound? he wheeled again. she sat, on her face a strange expression he had never seen on any face, a half smile, quizzical, amused ! he could no more avoid going back to her than had she drawn him with cords. she arose deliberately and met him. "i'll e'en take my bond!” said she, in some new tone, half laughing. she had changed her speech also, as sometimes she did. "stand ye there, langley barnes. dinna ye move hand or hair. dinna ye dare touch hair or hand o' mine. ye think me sae soft! ye think i'll tak' it all and smile aboot it? suffer?—i'll gar ye suffer, man! i'll tak’ my bond secure against annette, or all the world! stand ye firm, an' haud your airms down, langley barnes !” he saw approach him the shining eyes, the splendid glowing face of a woman he had never seen! . . . she came and almost took him in her arms, approached her chapter xxvii the invisible rap came at the door. churchill looked in with a suddenly amused smile as he saw the two occupants of the room. "beg pardon, i'm sure," said he. “i just wanted to intrude for a moment-little package, part of my lug- gage—we put it in back of your melodeon, didn't we, christine ?" “yes,” said christine, composedly. “the little black box with the handles. i pushed it back.” she reached behind the instrument and lifted out the parcel he had described. "it has not been disturbed," said she. “would you have hot water, sir?” she was entirely calm. “no, thanks. this isn't a toilet case," smiled churchill. “they'd not allow us so much on sled travel.” but he did not explain. barnes went out with him. christine, at last left alone, cast herself on the couch where langley barnes had lain, and pressed his pillow to her lips, wetting it with a rain of tears now wholly unrestrained. the invisible "quite so, yes." "we've got to have a mast, haven't we? there's the flag staff." "we'll not need it. that's all old. all we need is a practical aerial line. we can get that by stringing a hundred feet of wire horizontal, like a bally clothes- line. few yards above the ground will do here, for you see the whole top of the bluff is open. couldn't be a better place in canada to try her out. we'll know, to-day. "well, let's string our aerial from the staff to that stub on the bank, right near the bench there—we'll put the machine on the bench itself. that'll give us over a hundred feet in the clear for our air wire. of course, we've got to get on cleats for the antenna wire. porcelain." he unlocked and flung open the black case which held so much; drew out wires, bits of appliances, a few simple tools. "i'll get the ladder our friends were using at the fur loft, the other day," he resumed. "please run this wire across on the ground, between the uprights, from the staff to the bare tree trunk yonder. back in a jiffy." he did return with the short ladder, which he leaned against the flag staff. "steady her, please," said he. "i'll go up and screw on our insulators—those white cleats, porcelain the ship of souls —right-o. they hold the wire safe from shooting up the shop, you know. thanks." working at arm's length above his head, he rapidly fastened the porcelain cleat in place against the staff; reached down, and looped through it the antenna wire which barnes passed up to him. "now, the cleat on the other end," he chattered on, excitedly, nervously. "please bring the box. i'll carry the ladder." they repeated the process at the bare stub near the lookout bench at the edge of the bluff so that presently the horizontal antenna wire reached across well-nigh half the open space. "of course, we've got to have our lead wire, from our antenna to the receiving set," said churchill. "that shorter piece, copper, please. will she run from the end of the antenna to the box on the bench? yes? that's fine!" "now we'll rig on," he added, when he had come down the ladder after fastening the last insulator and attaching the lead wire. "it's only fair i should explain a bit," he began, after lighting his pipe. "if you're not familiar with this thing, it's the same as magic is to an indian. really, it's simple as two and two. "now, we've got our lead wire attached to the set. of course, we've got to have our ground wire. see the invisible here—i brought along an old malleable iron tent peg for that. a bolt of any sort would do. drive her down in the ground to the top. . . . thanks. . . . now wrap on the ground wire. thanks. "she's set, now, as for the main things. please hand me—there is the case—the ear muffs for the tele- phone lady. 'num,' please! that's the head phone, down on each ear. have to take a fellow's cap off. ears may freeze, but cheap at that if she goes. . . . and that's that. you get it all?" "good lord!" said langley barnes. "will it work?" "the only thing where our magic may fall down is in the batteries. heavy things, those. dragged them all the way from dawson. just common storage bat- teries. put her under the front seat of the new electric motor dog sled, what! the other's a group of what they call b batteries—six dry cells; say three-by-four- by-five inches. not so big, eh? not so heavy? well, if it killed our dogs—and poor calkins—well, at least here we are. "that's about all there is to it. except, of course, the attunement." he cast a swift glance at barnes, whose face re- mained immobile. "rather cold, just now?" "not at all," said barnes. "show me more." "the tuning is done altogether by twisting these dials. do it in a few minutes. shall i?" the ship of souls "yes." "quite so. little cold, is all. well, here goes. "you see," he added, after a time, "this is the mani- festation of the magic. say a thousand miles away, two souls with but a single thought, two hearts that beat as one! that sort of thing. heard the chaplain at the hangar, once, at soissons, talk about attune- ment with the infinite—what! well. ... i say, pretty cold, outside, eh?" he had been turning the dials, rapidly. now, care- lessly, he laid the headpiece on the bench, and began threshing his arms. barnes turned up the collar of his coat. something seemed curious to him. he did not urge, was willing to make conversation, covering some vague suspicion which he by no means could formu- late. "well, after this," he began, "we don't need wonder about the voyageurs' chasse galere any more." "you've heard them, those noises?" churchill turned to him curiously. / "yes, or have thought i did. i could have sworn, the first trip i made alone, up river, i'd heard the chasse galere itself—twice! once i knew it was the laughing geese. but the other time, dead of winter, it would have been geese going the wrong way. so i don't know what it was." the other nodded. "when you've spent a dozen the invisible years or so up here, you get to taking on a lot of things—second sight, werewolf stuff, all sorts. the old man himself always swore he had the second sight! i've known him tell of the inspector's death at smith's, fifteen hundred miles away, the day it hap- pened—and the boat brought the news four months later. he swore he knew what was happening. and i've known him say soberly that he was in camp once with the dog ribs, and a man got up by the fire, and laid off his belt and gave a howl and ran off—and he was a wolf! old as europe. but if werewolves lived there, they may here. i jolly well don't care. "all the same, i have in my own work in the mounted known three different cases of the eskimos' ankticook—that's the native second sight. the wreck of the h. b. boat at fort churchill—namesake of mine, post on the bay—was told of at great bear water- head the day it happened. the ship off herschell drove the kogwolloks crazy one month before any possible news could have reached them. the loss of the daw- son patrol, in , was known and reported at ram- part four months before any one got there who knew. oh, you get used to those simple things. what i don't know is, what makes these strange streaks of sound, these passing waves that go over the forest. ever hear of the like?" barnes nodded. "sure. lewis and clark's journals the ship of souls tell of mysterious noises reported by indians from the black hills—they were hundreds of miles east of there at the time. and captain lewis himself heard such noises at the great falls of the missouri, and set it down; more than a hundred years ago. and geologists report strange sound-rips, like electric waves, near yel- lowstone lake, even now. that's recent. i swear, you'll have me believing there is a chasse galere!" "why not? you know what the fellows said at mons in the big war—that spirits rose over no man's land at night. they saw 'em, jolly well. plenty of men's families knew the night they died. oh, yes, i'm sure the shakespeare chap wasn't off his nut when he spoke of things in heaven and earth we've not yet got square in our philosophy, something of the sort. "it's like the wireless," he added, musingly. "what is it? we don't know. it rips up from a mast, loud enough, the old sort—hear it all over the shop. well, suppose the ripping got up into some air stratum where it would be fluided, tuned, adjusted to some medium, what? might go a long way. might be heard almost anywhere. "who knows, since the war, what we're up against? i'm sure, for one thing, that the printed page will be a thing of the past in fifty years—and the sled dog in less than ten. now, you ask, what noises go over these forests? i don't know. but i don't know a lot of the ship of souls back. took outfit on, you see. just before i came out here, the papers had it that this arctic chap, what's his name, amundsen, was going to send in radios, daily, all the way up to the pole. shouldn't wonder. going in by aero, talking back by radio! rum things, eh? not much left of the north now, i'm thinking— nor of anywhere else. pretty soon every jolly kaffir'll be giving his girl a forty-watt for christmas, and she'll be talking with the eskimo ladies about their latest styles in galoshes. well, i don't bother my head. take life as it comes, i say. plenty to worry over. the day's work's enough for me. "but now, since you've forced my hand about that, i don't mind saying i was going to have a go for gravel river. i want to ask them to send a man or so to help me with my prisoners. tidy idea, anyhow." barnes distinctly saw him turn two of the panel dials, apparently absent-mindedly. then he faced barnes again, composedly. "show you thing or two, maybe. i don't care if you listen in. take the first shot, if you like. i'll watch the d—d battery. if she peters, we're done. call 'gravel! gravel!' of course, i don't know they've any set, at all." barnes put the head phones in place. his eye was on the dial. he began to call. the ship of souls speaking. new york, u. s. a. u. s. a. . . . you told me to try for you. is it you?" "yes, new york! new york. who's speaking. who wants fort mctavish, northwest territory company. . . . who wants mctavish?" "but arthur! you said. . . . crack, crack, crack, snap. . . . why don't you tell me! i'm alicia, alicia, alicia. don't you hear?" now the voice was a wail, a shriek. it came like a hot needle point, eight thousand miles. > "why, you took it in, you said. you said you'd put it up for me, for me! that we'd not be separated, arthur! that we'd talk no matter what! ... it was for me. . . . it's wonderful. . . . it's a marvel . . . to know, to know—arthur! arthur! arthur! is it you. . . . arthur churchill, major arthur churchill, major arthur churchill wanted! who's speaking there?" can suspicion carry eight thousand miles? is a woman's intuition wireless? is guilt a thing that can not be hid either in the positive or the subjective world? the voice went on, finally, weakly. "arthur church- ill wanted! major arthur churchill!" he could hear a sob, of a woman overstrained. a month? . . . well. "mrs. alicia barnes, new york, u. s. a. is it you, mctavish speaking is it you, alicia? alicia barnes, new york! alicia? alicia? alicia?" "yes, yes! oh, god! arthur! is it you! speak! quick—who are you?” the energy of high strung query came through. and over eight thousand miles of land and water which once it took two years to cross, came back to her now, within the seconds: "i am langley barnes.” chapter xxix the impossible the figure on angus garth's observation bench at fort mctavish, under the arctic circle, still sat rigid. it was several moments before he tore off the head piece. he flung up an arm in signal. the transmission had ceased abruptly. barnes looked at the box on the bench. he had time to think, as he saw churchill come out of the door and hurry across the open space, his face eager. obviously he had been watching barnes comfortably from the warm room. "anything? get anything? does she work?" he demanded. at once he had off his cap, the clamps on his ears. he knelt in the wet snow, his lips to the transmission cone. "hello! hello! hello! gravel river. new york. who? hello! hello!" he turned. langley barnes sat astride the bench. in his hand, the butt steadied on the plank, was the heavy automatic whose muzzle covered churchill's breast. barnes saw the flicker of his eyelids. the impossible "go on!" said barnes. "i've heard enough to satisfy me. talk! tell the truth to her and to me. i'm your judge now. there's no law but this between us. go on." "yes, new york. new york. who is it, is it, is it?" trailing off. at last churchill rose to his feet. "dead!" said he. "there's nothing in on this attunement. you must have been mistaken. just rumblings, cracklings. she's fizzed out. nothing doing." the pistol muzzle kept him covered as he stood. the cold eye of barnes looked into his own, and he stared back, trying to guess—with his life depending on it—what had been heard here just now before he came. "oh, well," he said, presently. "i suppose one ought not to expect miracles. we all knew the static up here is something awful. you are sure you heard a * "iff voice? "would i have called you if i had not been sure?" "you had gravel river? come now, you never had them? they've got a plant there, then? they did fix that, the last boat, last season? or did those boys that flew in? you got them, you think?" he was more or less babbling. "i got new york! i don't think. i know!" the ship of souls "what do you know?" asked churchill, after a time. "why did they cut off? it's impossible!" "yes, you meant it to be. i saw you turn the dials. i turned them back! the parties may come on again, after a time." "i'll stand watch a time," said churchill, coolly, with a courage, at least, magnificent. "they've been calling a month, in new york," said barnes. "five hours daily. of course, they didn't know just when you'd get here, if ever, or when you'd get installed. you had let them know of what you in- tended to do with the radio experiment. it was only a tentative date? well, in another month we may get on again!" barnes spoke quietly enough. seven-two-three—a. b. c. a. b. c. a. b. c. transatlantic radio. . . . atlantic radio, new york, new york, new york? churchill had picked up the headpiece once more, and now was speaking, calling, using code. he knew the pistol still covered him. he knew he dared not make a move toward his own. "yes? yes? yes?" he kept speaking into the phone. at last, eagerly, "new york? that you? yes! churchill. mc- tavish, northwest mounted. yes?—" "by god! she's broken again! you were right. we've had new york, barnes. it was the central office of the transatlantic radiophone company!" the impossible "yes. i know that." "their manager was—well, you know?" "yes. b. d. ogden. a brother of my wife. you knew him?" "oh, yes." "you arranged with him?" "oh, yes. you see, we wanted to try out the thing. sake of the mounted service, you know. i needed a big power station, to make sure." "i wouldn't lie." churchill drew a long breath. "well then, what did you hear? what do you want to do?" "i heard new york. i'm rather sure the trans- atlantic will call again. you are to listen here, until they do." "oh, no—that's not practicable." "it is absolutely practicable. sit down, here on the board. your right hand up, please. unbuckle your belt, with your left hand—so. thank you. now get into position. listen till you get new york, if it's a month. then call me." "what's that? you'll do this with an officer of his majesty's forces? i'll not." "his majesty is very far away. i'm factor at mc- tavish. drop your gun, or i'll kill you. "i warn you that anything you say may be used against you!" he added, with a grim smile. the ship of souls "but where are you going?" barnes had an auto- matic now in either hand, was turning, as churchill spoke. "it may be a long time," said he. "it may be two or three hours, i don't know. but new york is pretty sure to call mctavish again. till it does, if it's a week or a month or a year, you'll sit here under guard. no. i like this place. we won't move the set into the house—i'm operator enough to know it wouldn't work in there. it does work here on the bluff. by god! sir, if i have to install you at the top of the flag mast here, you'll listen now till you get new york—and then you'll call me." churchill's eye could not escape an amused gleam, which barnes caught perfectly well. "and as the bourgeois at mctavish runs no errands," said he, "i'm going to take my ease and sit where it is warm. but i'll not make the mistake you did about that. i'm going in to set loose your two prisoners, stikeen and johnnie. they'll bring you your blankets, and have their own—and a rifle each. "i'll lock you fast to this bench, instead of the stove leg, major churchill. at the first connection, you'll call for me. stikeen's no fool. if there's funny busi- ness, he'll kill you—he'll have my instructions to do that." "why, good god! man, he'll kill me anyhow! you'd the ship of souls ernment equipment in a way questionable in an officer and a gentleman. i don't think you can get the back- ing. don't try." "men don't take the law in their own hands up here and get away with it." "this isn't a case of any broken law. and we're not going to be disorderly with you. if you play in and out, you'll be killed and buried in the most orderly way of anything you ever helped put through." the face of churchill, hardy, strong, red, was changed to a mask of rage. but it was impotent rage. "i forgot to tell you," said barnes, "that i'm an ex- cellent shot with these things. don't try to run. if you did, i've good trackers now to pick you up, and you've no outfit. you'd not get far, on foot, eh?" "but i say," he concluded wearily, "why make a row about it? i've no jealousy, you know. just be a sen- sible chap, why don't you?" "by god! you've heard through! no use my trying to shield her. she called through!" but the weary, cold, haggard and impassive face be- fore him gave no sign of assent or dissent. shrugging in a sudden resolve, churchill picked up the headpiece once more. the ship of souls "it's none of your business. i'll be in the house, where i can cover you through the window. but look here, stikeen. it's possible i'll not put you back in irons again. you're a bad lot, you two. but will you give me, an american, your word to stick about, and make no break? if so, it may work out better for you." "you'd not take my word." "yes. i'll take your word." stikeen sat silent for a time. at last: "i'll promise you!" he said. whether at risk or not, barnes believed him. he himself brought out the two men's capotes and bed rolls. then, with a heavy fur coat in hand, he started out to the edge of the bluff. he did not need to iron his man. perhaps he would have taken his parole, in the circumstances. as he approached, churchill threw up his arm in signal, caught off the headpiece, kept calling, "wait! wait! minute, please! coming. wait!" "new york, sir," said he, quietly, coldly, and handed over the headpiece. barnes motioned him to the far end of the bench. stikeen cocked his rifle. but the tableau remained set. "yes? yes. new york. mctavish. h. b. northwest. langley barnes speaking. in charge here. yes? what is it?" the news from outside then churchill saw his face go rigid, frowning, grave—all in a few seconds. he heard him say into the mouthpiece, “yes, major arthur churchill's here. you wish to speak to him? i'll call him. repeat what you told me to him, absolutely. yes, he's here. wait !" he handed the head phone to churchill. “it seems faint,” said he. “not so clear.” “yes?” began churchill. “seven-two-three. a. b. c. is a. b. c. there? what? what's that? not there-she was calling just now—she's—what? what's that? wait—something wrong! don't get you. this d-d static! what?” "crack. crack. burrr.” a purring, fading blur of vague sound. then silence, absolute silence. he might as well have held a gourd to his ear. “dead !” said churchill, savagely. “right when we needed it. a year, now! and i don't suppose there's another plant anywhere in the mackenzie basin. a year! curse it all, the whole damned business! i wish i'd never come here." “what was it got through when you were on?” he demanded now of the silent man who sat opposite him. "who was it? what did you hear ?" "you mean at first, or just now?” "both, please." “at first i heard my wife, alicia barnes, calling eight thousand miles to keep an appointment with a the ship of souls man whom she called arthur. i gather that you had planned to try this, that you brought the outfit on that chance, that you had a code. yes?" "yes, sir! i did!" "at least you don't lie now." "well, it is what i planned, and what she planned. i deny nothing. but the set's dead now. we're done! what's the odds now?" "yes. what's the odds now?" "but what did she say? on my honor i'd not ask, if there were any other chance," churchill added. "in- deed, it was to me she spoke, sir." "but a husband holds his rights till the law is pleased. he may eavesdrop." "tell me, man! this last time—it was not her voice?" "no, it was the voice of her brother—ogden, new york, general manager of the transatlantic radio. he was talking to me. he told me—what we both may hear." he stopped. "dead!" langley barnes rose at last and smote his hands together. "yes, the spark gone at last! god help us all—and her! she's dead!" "tell me—what do you mean! you said it was her own voice." "this, sir: the shock of hearing her husband's voice, from the ends of the earth, where for a month the ship of souls "now here. we're men out, off, on a desert island. we'd as well recognize the business of getting along together until we get off the island." "enter the admirable crichton!" churchill smiled sardonically. "no. enter the factor of this h. b. post. i don't think the dominion law gives you any right to com- mandeer. you can't take possession of this post. bet- ter try comity than arrogance. that's the company's policy. by now you ought to know i'll not have arro- gance from you, here nor anywhere else. neither shall i give you any. we're down to cases, now. "here's what i suggest. i'll outfit these two men and send them out to gravel river. they had started there, when they picked you up and helped you through to mctavish—with all your outfit, much of which wasn't dog food. "the company men at gravel can send up some one to take charge here—maybe before the ice goes out; if not, by boat when it does." "but man!" broke in churchill. "those men will cut stick, of course, as soon as they get out of sight." "they would not in my country—not if they prom- ised me," said barnes. "as i said, there's honor among us thieves. they're a bad pair, yes, and we all know that. but they can do as they like. they're free. there's no charge against them, now." average men "what? what's that? i jolly well promise you there is!" churchill was so soon on his official dig- nity. "no. i've thought it over. it's all too little," said langley barnes. "too much has happened, since. there's nothing lost. they killed no man. they saved your life. they brought through the radio. that brought me the news. shall i give no amnesty when the war is done?" "you're crazy! i can send out a native." "you are not sending any one. you are not in charge. it is a very delicate situation here, for a num- ber of human beings. the law can't save it. only common sense, starting from the ground up, can save it." "we'll go," growled stikeen, who had heard all this. "give us a few skins if you've not much cash. we're pretty well broke. we'll tote fair—now. i just didn't know but i could make that bluff stick, about that fur belonging to me, see? well, all right, no hard feelings. but this man"—nodding to the officer—"had better stay back, off the trail." "he will," said langley barnes. "there are some things for you and me to thrash out, churchill," he added. "i think we agree that, in view of the aid these men gave the mounted—and the extra load you insisted on bringing through—and in average men "if you'd stay on, and run this post," broke in stikeen, "johnnie and i'd cut the oil boom, and hunt for mctavish, down in the durgin and hensley range. is that a go?" "no," replied barnes. "we'll see the new factor here about you." the face of the desperado almost colored. "well, you see, that girl's alone up here." "annette?" "yes." "annette and her brother alex are going to be put in charge of the man the inspector sends to mctavish. this is their country." "how about the other girl?" demanded stikeen. "that is none of your damned business." "well," went on the unabashed ruffian, "a voice like her'n don't belong here, no ways on earth. i've been around some, and sing? say, once i heard that in a choir, in 'frisco—that thing she was singing. well, that's why them leg irons is there," he grinned, point- ing to the shackles under the stove. "she sung 'em off. tell me!" "go get some wood, you," said barnes. "saw up a lot while you're at it. get your dogs picked and teamed in and fed up. i don't want you here while the village is full, and we've got to trade. you'll start south to- morrow." the ship of souls "all right, boss!" grinned the incorrigible. "not saying we'll stay south, for we're apt to go where we please and move when we don't like it. wish you was going along. i'd show you a good time. but come on, johnnie, wood chopping beats polishing the floor with your hip bones." the two moved out, grinning. the men remaining faced each other now. "well, what do you think?" began barnes, flinging himself into a chair. "no use rowing. let's be sen- sible." "as good a plan as any, maybe," admitted churchill. "only, the hard part's left." "yes." "there's a question, first, of whether alicia's—pass- ing out of the game, you know—leaves you any ground for wanting personal satisfaction from me. i don't deny anything at all." "you can't very well deny. if she were still my wife, it would have to be cleaned up. she wouldn't have followed on that way if she hadn't been false to me, in her neurotic way—she didn't have much sensu- ousness, and that maybe kept her innocent, as the term goes. i'll not say how many things you were false to —a good many, no doubt. well, maybe, the war took your personal principles. maybe the times took them. maybe you're just a bad lot. maybe you lived up to the standards of your sort. that last is what i think." average men "i say, don't comb it too rough! good god! man, why should we quarrel? it's over. it was over before you started north last year. you ran away from her." "no! i ran away from life." "comes to the same, eh?" "oh, yes, i meant to leave her free. i supposed she would file papers at once." "she did!" "oh, you know?" "as it happens. not that i cared. i never would have married her." barnes nodded, slowly and coldly. "i think you speak the truth, at least across her grave. to-day, i smelt the tuberoses she will have about her. and orchids. well, genuine love was not in either of you. so, i don't know that i have much grounds either to challenge you as a man or kill you as a cur. either would be easy if i had any jealousy left—for her. but that's not the question." "no," laughed churchill, evilly. "what to do about the other woman! not like africa!" "i don't think we'll mention her name again, sir." "most noble judge! then, what in hell do you want of me? why don't you marry the girl, as soon as you can, or call it a marriage now? it would be, now, since this news, if it were done over again. as factor the ship of souls of mctavish, admirable crichton and divine provi- dence, why not publish your own banns?" "i shall never marry her. she never would marry me." "might try it on? you can't tell." "yes, i can. i know. we're to begin some other theory for her. i want you here, as long as i am here. i want your slurring tongue here, your low-down heart here, where i can watch them both." "by god! i'll not endure that! give me my gun!" "you'll endure all i want to say to you. you'll be safer without your gun. so far as i know, i'll say no more than the truth. i have not said more. and i'm no better than you are, on the record. "no, major arthur churchill, we've met about one woman before, we'll meet about one now so soon— a better one, a more unhappy one, i can say that much. if you can take her also away from me, do so. indeed, that might be the very best thing for us all. . . . "her voice, as i believe, is a very great possession." he spoke musingly, pulling together with a sigh. "yes," churchill spoke positively. "it belongs to the world. she should sing in the scala in four years, three. she will be known the world over in six, five, four." "have you fortune to enable that?" average men “you are direct! of course i have not. do you suppose i'd be piffling here?” "you should have married my wife! she had two million and a half-i gave her that. we had no chil- dren. if she left no will going so suddenly, it is doubtful whether she did a part of that now comes back to me legally, i suppose. if it does, there's the chance for christine. i've never done any good in the world in all my life--like yourself, i've been such a rotter !” "who hasn't? well, so then you'd stake christine and turn her and her fortune and her future over to me -knowing what we both know to-day over the phone? rather not! you'll do nothing of the sort." "nothing of that exact sort, no. but i'll think it all over for five months. i'll watch her--and you. if only you were a decent, honest man, how simple it then would be. but where'd we find one? not me, surely. i'm bad as you are every whit as bad. she knows that.” churchill looked at him curiously. "i say, you're an odd sort. i don't think fellows say that of themselves. mostly, we let the world run and not try to change it, eh? isn't it easier, better?" “commoner?” "call it so. but i swear-well, those others have cort of given parole, what? you believe stikeen. will chapter xxxii the ship of souls the double season of the north began its an- nual apology for spring. hours of still brooding came in the lengthening day, pre- monitory of the swift leap into life of full-fledged sum- mer. the snow sank. dark spots showed on the ice of the river. the tips of the willow boughs were thicker. always the sun became more confident, the night lessening, the day in waxing ascendency, until the reversal was accomplished and both snow and ice were gone and the swift green came. in the native village which had made its annual as- semblage near the trading post, the women now made fires out of doors, raised the edges of the skin covers of the hovels in which they miserably had huddled, took in the rabbit snares and found the nets for fishing. the strange colony at mctavish, shaken down per- force into some sort of adjustment not much above that of the native villages, moved on, dully, half apathetically, waiting for the spring. two figures daily occupied the lookout bench on the ship of souls might be necessary privately and secretly to make sacri- fices to the old gods. something, obviously, needed appeasing. the white gods now were weak. as to annette and her brother alex, born of the wilderness, their instinct was in rapport with that of other things. they saw the river pass from white to gray, the tundra change from white to brown. soon, they said, the fowl would come. so, at last, through the mists to the south they heard this irrefutable har- binger. annette was unusually silent and preoccupied, but one day as they two sat silent the breed boy touched her with an elbow, with a short single word. they both heard the low soft murmur grow into definite waves of sound, heard these separate and blend, growing into a volume of music exceedingly sweet, since it was announcing day and spring and flowers and warmth once more. it was the cycle-marking sound of the wild geese, going north, the one sound of hope in all that mournful, melancholy land annually resigned to despair and apathy. came, high above, the wild chatter of the white geese, the maniac clamorings of the laughing geese, in- visible in the pale white sky; but better they liked the deeper and somberer music of the long dark harrows of the honkers, coming north, weary, laboring, driven eight thousand miles by love for life's own sake. "they come!" spoke annette, in her broken way, the ship of souls one idea at a time. alex nodded in his own acceptance of the new season. they turned to the post buildings, that sullen and unhappy camp where silence had reigned so long. the dogs, ears erect, noted the coming of the clamoring fowl. but it was nothing to them, for they had in- stincts of their own to tell them when winter had passed. but, before annette was well within the door and alex gone beyond the building, the attention of every one about mctavish, in and out of doors, and of the indian village as well, suddenly was arrested by the concerted howling of the dogs. it rose, a vast, mourn- ful, foreboding roar of savage apprehensiveness, all along the bluff, on the beach below, over the forest edge. the loucheux shaman came into the open space in all his savage priestly garments. the work of the anglican church for a century was gone. the instinct of all the savage creatures of the north was now again united. and it was united in the common emotion of fear, fear of the unknown. . . . the dogs ought not to be howling now. after a long time, some moments of strained senses, the keener ears of annette, at the open door, caught the sound. it was broken, came again; again rose, thick- ened, fell—as though, so to speak, it physically con- densed, solidified, on the far horizon. whatever it the ship of souls was, it advanced ominously, menacingly. never in any spring at old mctavish had the south sent north a sound like this now in the air. annette turned back into the house, pale under the olive of her skin. "it is the chasse galere!" she whis- pered, and sank on a couch, to draw her blanket over her head. for now, obviously, the spirits had come to take a victim and exact some punishment for all these changed ways at the oldest post of the far north. "chasse galere?" oh, yes, it all was true. the far-off broken murmur became a steady drone, as of some great insect. smaller dogs ran into the house and crawled into the dark. ... it changed into a menacing scream, as of some giant bird. the largest dogs, hair erect, followed in abject terror. and now they could see the thing itself, and it was coming on, heading straight in. it was a great, wide- winged creature of the air, of monstrous wings, of giant body. it rose in long easy sweeps at times, to settle down into a level and incredibly rapid flight which each second brought it into clearer definition. barnes, churchill, alex, one or two natives and breeds, crowded through the dogs into the open plateau, regarding the advancing creature with emotions which for the latter came to ash-visaged fright. indeed, alex, being indian, ran for cover when, in undeniable truth and with his own eyes, he saw the chasse galere— . the ship of souls your name in the company service. you say—oh, you're not the yankee that was reported lost last year, the one those men last month told us had taken charge of mctavish?" "yes. angus garth is dead. you got my statement? i came in last summer on the boat and stayed in, if that is what you mean. i'm an american, what you call a yankee. from new york." "indeed? but how came you in the company serv- ice? we've no record of that!" "i am not now in the service of any company or any man, sir. it pleased angus garth to take me into con- fidence in what he knew was his last illness. in his will he gave me and one daughter all he had, and left me as his executor and his successor. he named me as his son-in-law and put me in charge pro tern, at least. all that i shall explain. of course, i give over charge to you now, sir. we'll go over the books when we've time." "my word!" remarked inspector janes, succinctly. "then it all was true, the word you sent out by your two men! we'd not believed it." by now the entire group was working toward the door of the post building, the tall, thin form of the holy man in the rear given less attention than any other figure there. "old angus gone!" the inspector paused, hand on the ship of souls the door frame, looking in. "forty-five years! we'd come to think of him as mctavish itself. dead? i did not believe it. tell me." so now barnes told him, briefly, the whole grim story, pushing toward him the company books, with the log, and with it the inventory of the season's trade. the inspector nodded at the total. "good!" said he. "i am glad to know you, factor barnes. it's an extraordinary situation. so far as i can see now, you've handled it well. why didn't you turn it all over to the mounted?" "because of mr. garth's will and of his wish. be- cause of other things which will be plainer after a time. "now we must follow custom." and so, while the belated rattle of rifle salute, from the scared breeds and natives now emerging from cover, began in honor of the inspector's coming, they drew toward the puncheon table where old angus garth had eaten and drunk for more than forty years. the arms of inspector janes rested in the smooth hollows the arms of old angus had worn in the table top. and they drank of the first bottle of the last six of h. b. scotch which old marie had remaining, hid beneath her blanket bed. it all did not wholly thaw the constraint. it did not warm the thin white man in cassock under furs who now sat silent at the fire of angus garth's hearth. the ship of souls to him finally came langley barnes, since in the confusion the visitors had not yet made all things and persons plain. "you are archdeacon shoreham, they told me? from below? how can i make you com- fortable? you will not have a taste of spirits? the journey must have left you terribly cold." the old man reached out a thin and trembling hand, drank abstemiously. "who are you?" he demanded. "i heard the word son-in-law. you?" "it is a long tale, sir. i will say only now i am not angus garth's son-in-law." "there could have been no marriage here, that i can attest!" said the acid voice of the old man. "no mission here—he would not allow it, garth. he was a savage. he died in sin." "it may be. i am not the first to cast a stone." "he lived in iniquity, and so he died! a brood of breed children he had—we know. oh, i know a great deal even now." "you came here often in the past?" "never in my life have i been here! in twenty-five years i've not been north of old augustus. last year i got far as resolution, where once i was, many years, ago. by sledge to gravel city, where new ways bid fair to come now. by airship here." "and why? that was a great risk." "yes. my last risk. i knew it was my last year the ship of souls in the service of the church; doubtless my last of life. why? well, i never had been here. but at the very last i had to come. i could no longer wait. my duty to my church must at last be done, no matter what risk. so when i heard that sinful man was gone, i resolved to come to this spot of heathendom. "i had to know, you see! though it killed me, i could do no more, no less. strange things drive a man, sir. and at the end of life we are not as we were when young. no, nor in middle age." his liquor thawed his tongue. "you are alone?" "all my life, sir. the church has been my interest. i tried to bring light among the heathen. i have not done so. i have seen white men drop down into heathendom." "yes. we very quickly revert," said langley barnes. something in his tone caused the holy man to turn to him. "i will tell you the truth, sir, since you have been in charge here. i came with the inspector with the intent to establish a mission at mctavish, to put in some man more in keeping with the wish of the com- pany to extend the gospel into the north." "the wish of the company?" "at least, the consent of the company. but no man may know what that has meant to me. 'vengeance is the ship of souls mine, saith the lord.' i have come too late for that. he can never know my triumph over him at last. "too late for everything!” he added, to himself, trembling, his glass still in hand. “she died more than twenty years ago. both dead now. vengeance was his!" some subtle touch of the strange far northern inter- communication of intelligence flashed into the soul of langley barnes. he spoke gently: "you mean the wife of angus garth?”' "she was not his wife!" the sudden shrill pitch of his voice cut into the wassail of the near-by table. barnes touched the old man on the shoulder. they rose, passed into the narrow log room that once had belonged to angus garth. and there, at sight of what hung on the wall, the old man clapped hands to his face and sank on the bed where once had lain the owner of yonder face framed on the wall; gone now these twenty years, as this holy man had said. "she was not his wife!” he cried out again at last. "she never was. she was mine!" chapter xxxiii the knees of the gods was a long w-a-a-y to tip-per-ar-e-e," roared peachy mcpherson, young eyes shining, head back, —“a lo-o-ong way to go! long w-a-ay to tipper-a-ree! but we got- back there!" thibodeau, janes, churchill, now warmed by the spirits, joined in the paraphrase, passing echo of the great war now fading along the extremest marches of the earth. but their chorus ceased suddenly when barnes, followed by christine, came into the main room from the passageway. the men at the table rose as the young white woman of mctavish entered. she did not smile, but bowed gravely. hurriedly, she followed barnes across the room, into that one which had belonged to her father, where now another man, the first man of the church christine ever had seen, now sat, his head bowed. barnes left them. "you are my daughter!" exclaimed the old man as he looked up into the cold eyes of this calm young woman who confronted him. “i am john shoreham.” the knees of the gods "i am not your daughter, sir," rejoined christine. "you know i am not. you know i am the daughter if angus garth, who is dead, and of her!” she nodded to the faded little picture on the wall. “that was my mother. i do not remember her much more than as a shadow. but i know that was my mother." “you should have been my daughter. that is alice, my wife.” "spare us, sir. i know the story. they both are dead.” the zealot in him rose. "you never have been bap- tized!" "no." “you will not let me call you daughter?” “no. i am not." he sank back on the bed. “i am too late !" “yes. everything is too late.” “but you you do not look a savage. you speak as an educated girl. where? there's been no mission here. there's never been one." "i've never been fifty miles from mctavish. i've never seen a school. i've not seen even the catholic church at good hope. i've read books only. my father taught me, years ago; a little, more lately. i know nothing. i am nothing." she spread out her hands. "i am a lost soul, a soul the ship of souls not born. i am futile, frustrate, i am a waif. look at me, minister. i am the most wretched woman in the world. why did you come here? it was no place for you. by no means am i your child. they sinned, yes. the world is naught but sin. married ? no. they were never married.” “but you? he—that man, barnes, yonder-said something about a will, a son-in-law. are you mar- ried ?” "for a time i thought i was. he said i was, my father. now, he who was to be my husband says no, that we were not. i knew it was never marriage. i am altogether as i was, sir." "but-you have not come to love a man—that man?” “yes. i have come to love him. but who are you to ask?” "god have mercy! i am john shoreham. i was mission minister at resolution when my wife ran away with that ruffian, your father.” "you shall not speak so! he was not all ruffian. he sinned. he is dead. i think she loved him. it is an awful thing—to love." she spoke with all her quiet deliberation; but the blood was red in her cheeks now. "you speak to a man grown old in the church, my child,” he said at length. “you may confide. who the knees of the gods er am i to blame you, born innocent! only, my dear, i shall tell you that i left the wilderness then and there, when your mother left me for that man. i remained in orders, but here was the grave of my life. i came back, at the very last—why, i did not know. now i know! it was to baptize into the christian faith a--a soul born in savagery! “come, my child,” he said-his calling fore- most now, as ever-"you do not despise what your mother would wish? come! where is water, a chalice?" they spoke for many, many moments. then chris- tine led the way to her little sanctum, the strange pene- tralia of mctavish post, where none ever came this was, through every association, the most holy place in christine's world. and here the man did the only thing which he could find in his own ashen soul to do. he pushed back the wooden prongs which to chris- tine had meant little forks. one of the porringers which had served her for finger bowls in her make- believe wedding table made chalice for him. ... and after all, yearning for something we do not understand, craving for something we never yet have got, the white child of this wilderness bent her young head in hope, as many a viking daughter did to the new faith in still more ignorant days. and with his moistened rose o' the world smith's crossing, and petrol there. at mcmurray you get the rails and wires, all you like. it's simple. sirs, when i think of the canoes from montreal, the york boats to the rockies and the arctics, i take off my hat, i scarce know whether to the old days or these new! "as for getting you out, sir, i'll give you my seat back. without doubt, i'll be needed here for quite a while." "what about my two men, stikeen and his indian?" asked barnes. "they brought in major churchill. they carried the news out to you. ruffians and thieves, i doubt not, murderers in their time, they were. but they did not fear the north, and i think they kept their word to me." janes looked at churchill, but the latter was loyal to his tacit promise to barnes. "ought to do some- thing for them," he said. "they brought me in. if it hadn't been for them, i'd have stayed out with calkins on the dawson trail. maybe they'll hang around here on the lower river and hunt a season or so. they're the sort can care for themselves, sir." "would that please you, mr. barnes?" asked the inspector, "—if we just charged it off?" barnes nodded. "as good a pair of men as you can find in the north. it takes hard men to go in front of civilization. you know that." the ship of souls "trustworthy, i presume, if they give you their con- fidence?" "absolutely," said langley barnes, and churchill did not gainsay him. "you know their sort. they fear nothing. trust them, and they'll stick. i don't doubt they'd have robbed the post. but i don't think they'll try it now." "so much for them, then. i'm thinking of sending up denby, from vermilion, for the time at least—one season, or two—here at the old heathen post, as we call it." "you can put in your anglican mission now." he had turned to the old archdeacon. "and time enough, i'm thinking. of old angus and his life i'll say noth- ing, nor shall any man. of course, the times and the country governed all that. what's happened, we'll say we none of us ever knew. the company has always kept its own secrets and held its own counsel in such matters. "and it has always paid its debts, too!" he added proudly. "if we owe, we pay. pro pelle, cutem! that's our motto. now, as to annette, we'll send her out to a good mission school, say winnipeg. she's wild as a hawk. maybe something can be done for her. i don't know. alex? no use. the rifle and dog team and trap for him. he can stay here." "you now have left the most important matter and rose o' the world the hardest, to the last," commented the archdeacon; and both barnes and churchill nodded. "the young lady, yes!" said the inspector. "i have pleaded with angus these years to let us send his daugh- ter christine out to school. he never would listen. an obstinate man, and a difficult, but the greatest handler of natives in the north, and the best collector of fur the company ever had. what shall we say for her—christine? well enough we all know, she never has belonged here. still less now does she. but what shall we do? "i was in hopes, churchill—" he turned to the offi- cer—"that you and christine would hit it off together! three or four years, singing lessons and all! how's she done?" churchill flushed to the ears. "she is past me and beyond me in every way," said he. "hers is one of the great voices of the world. i know enough to say that. let's not bring in anything else." "wasted here?" "worse. any voice must be trained. she must study. i say, she must!" "then this clause of the will about the son-in-law—" janes turned over the long papers he held in his hands even then. "there was nothing, as to that," said langley barnes, quietly. "the man was unquestionably mad, the ship of souls even then. there was no marriage. please let's not talk of this." "i myself know there was no marriage," said the archdeacon. "she has told me. that is best, if she is to study voice. and i will also say her voice is one of the miracles. it is attuned, gentlemen—attuned as yonder radio was, but to far other things. as though one day we might not all reach attunement! . . . rose o' the world, i baptized her with my own hands. and you, inspector, know that twenty years ago—" the stocky, bearded man raised a hand. "we know nothing!" said he. "the company knows nothing. we ask nothing. the company keeps its secrets. let the church keep its own also. "would you take her out, either you or mr. barnes?" he added, hesitatingly. "give her her chance, you know? see here: i'll buy the hensley and durgin fox which mr. barnes has given her. it shall be at a price that means a little fortune. stake her for her whole course—new york, paris, milan—anywhere. only, she's alone—there are so very many difficulties." "i can send christine rosamond garth to my own family in london," broke in the man of orders. "i am laying down my labors in the field this coming fall, if i should live that long. i had thought i might go back home. my work is done. one more sermon i shall write, and only one. it is on attunement. if rose o' the world we would set our dials and try, no doubt we could get the spark of truth; yea, from the infinite itself. that is no more wonderful—" janes again raised his hand to check him. "in due time, dominie! but only two can go out. we want you here. "you'll have to get down to the new town at gravel river, on your work in the northwest territory, major, of course—and a lot more work you'll have now than ever you had before. the world's gone, as we old timers knew it. we've got to have quicker inter- change." "it's barnes should go," rejoined churchill, quietly. but neither of them told the real story of the dead wire that now lay across the plaza of mctavish. "why not?" reasoned the practical man of affairs. "perhaps mr. barnes could see our protegee—i'm going to call her that—on her way for a time? quite a wonderful world it will seem to her, at first sight, i'm thinking! she's never seen anything, outside of books. you'll take her out, see her started, that sort * of thing? will you do that, mr. barnes; for the company, for us all—for her?" "if she thinks well of it, i shall be glad," said lang- ley barnes after a long time. "i'll take her across to the archdeacon's family in england and make all ar- rangements in europe for her schooling, if that is the the ship of souls wish of all you gentlemen. then i'll come back to new york. that was my home, you know. i only came up here—well, you know about it. and i've had my fling." "well," concluded the spokesman, staring medita- tively out over the wide country beyond the rim of mctavish bluff, "suppose we all keep together here for a few days, or a few weeks, and get better acquainted. perhaps we can think of some better solution of all these matters. if not, perhaps the outline we now have will work itself out. you know, in the com- pany, a century is nothing! so we've got time. "just now, it seems to me an excellent idea to go in and ask old marie if she can find another bottle of scotch. poor old girl!" chapter xxxv the cup but langley barnes could not join them in the old company customs. his head bent, his hands behind his back, he made his way be- yond the passage door that led to what might be called the women's quarters. he glanced, scarce seeing, into the open door of annette's room. escaped for the time from her last pursuers, she was as usual engaged in work of silks and quills, her eyes cast demurely down. he knocked at the door of the room where he hoped to find christine, and opened at the call. she was seated at the table and was reading, as was her wont, her book flat on the cloth. she turned her eyes upon him tranquilly, gravely, not asking him any questions at all. a sudden, unaccountable feeling of weariness, of longing for peace, came to the troubled soul of the man who hesitated, while she remained quite silent. "read to me!" he exclaimed, and cast himself full length on the couch, his hands covering his eyes. it the cup "no, i do not. how learned you are, christine! and what an odd range of books! odd, for a girl to be reading of the holy grail." "do not all men and women know the story of the holy grail?" "not many, to-day! read it again to me! i must sleep, i warn you." without other word she began, apparently where she had left off in her own reading. her voice was, as he had said, astonishingly pleasing in the spoken word, and by some marvel of heredity she read with no faltering and no ill pronunciation. she had learned rudiments, but with no child mind. once a thing was in her mind, it was hers. "it is about perceval," she explained. "i know the whole book. he was the best knight in the world. as you know, it was he only who ever came to look on the grail. not gawain, for he forgot. not lancelot, for he loved the queen, king arthur's wife—guinevere. that wa wrong. "it says, 'but arthur and the queen say that never until now had any knight gone into such jeopardy as perceval. he and gawain and lancelot all go on to- gether now, and a damsel was with them. "'so far have they wandered that they come into the plain country, before the forest. so they looked before them and saw a castle that was seated in a plain, the cup line, "perceval had trials all his life. always he was fighting. but because he was good and clean, and would fight, at last, after journeys and voyages-oh, far-he came at last to where the holy grail was. and he alone was held good enough to see it—what no other man had seen—not even lancelot, not even gawain the courteous. “and when they argued, perceval said, 'sir, gra- mercy, but no knighthood is there so fair as that which is undertaken to set forward the law-'a good man he was, yet bold, and fearing nothing, and never holding back from any danger, sir perceval. why, a hero? i don't see why he wasn't a good hero. "and so, at the end of his life, after hundreds and hundreds of adventures,” she explained, carefully, "and many wounds and much labor, he came on an island, far off. and the story tells that there they gave him a white shield, taking his old one. i can't read all that. are you now asleep, sir? for here it says: “ 'he hath taken leave, and so departeth. he enter- eth into the ship and the sail is set. he leaveth the land far behind, and the pilot steereth the ship, and our lord god guideth and leadeth him. the ship runneth a great speed, for far enough had she to run. but god made her speed as he would, for he knew the passing great goodness and worth of the knight that was within.'" the ship of souls "read on, christine. read to me!" his voice was choking in his throat. "i can not read, sir i am crying. i think of his going away, in a ship that runneth fast. but, oh! i think he must have been a bonny man." she turned her face, wet-eyed, unashamed, to him as he suddenly swung about. “it is sad, the partings in this book! that must have been a ship of souls! do you not think so ? and why should my father buy this book for me? none but a perceval could rescue damsel like me, on my island-on my island in the unknown sea! and far away the ship-aye, it was sae far to gae, frae this island !" "there was but one perceval in all the knights of the round table, christine. he only was good. look at all the others." “aye. but ane such was in the heart o' every damsel ever was, since then till noo!" unconsciously, she was falling into the intimate scotch. "but christine, his shield was white." "aye. tears and bluid hae washed a' the world clean frae then till noo." and then, langley barnes told her of all that had happened that day; told her what happened on that other day, weeks earlier, the news of alicia. he tried to explain the radio message that had come. she me. the cup waved it all aside, weeping only for the frail woman who had died. "is it mair wonderfu' than the ship of souls in the book, here?” she demanded. "but, oh! the puir soul. sae far, she was!" "christine," said he, after a long time. “she sent her soul, her voice, through the very heavens them- selves. but that was not to find me, but him-that other man.” a long silence. then, “could a woman do that?" "not a woman like you, christine.” “would you sing?” he asked after a time. “'ave maria'? a soul has passed.” "nay! i canna sing. some time. “ye'll be going awa'?” she said, after a time. “not for some time. first i shall set your house in order here for you. there will be time." “ 'twill be short. and then?” tears again welled from her eyes. and again she would not stanch them. "god have mercy on us all!” said langley barnes. "i'm sick-sick in my heart, christine. if only i had not forgotten! if only i could now forget! if only- if only!" he flung himself face down, on the piled blankets of the couch in christine's wedding breakfast room, ashamed at having given away so much. here, surely jes . university of michigan . wuia fed au.caa the trail of the lonesome pinejohn fox ! ed, l, libris merle joensor the new york public library f 부 ​the merle johnson collection 어 ​ dup. to be kept اه اه...هه - : == the trail of the lonesome pine books by john fox, jr. published by charles scribner's sons of the lonesome the trail illustrated pine. $ . a knight of the cumberland, illustrated. $ . following the sun-flag. through manchuria . a vain pursuit net, $ . christmas eve on lonesome and other stories. illustrated $ . the little shepherd of kingdom come. illustrated $ . bluegrass and rhododendron. life in kentucky. illustrated out-door net, $ . a kentucky story of love and crittenden. war $ . a cumberland vendetta. illustrated $ . hell for sartain and other stories . $ . the kentuckians. illustrated $ . a mountain europa. $ . the new york public library astor, lenox and tilden foundations r “keep it safe, old pine. . . . and bless him, dear god, and guard him evermore." the trail oit: lonsone piste: jois ilustrato! ciri . srs son ve to :: :: :: :: :: the trail of the lonesome pine by john fox, jr. illustrated by f. c. yohn charles scribner's sons new york :: :: :: :: :: the new york public library a astor, lenox and tilden foundations r copyright, , by charles scribner's sons published october, johnson nov. f. s. illustrations “keep it safe, old pine. . . . and bless him, dear god, and guard him evermore" frontispiece facing page she had never been up there before “don't, dad!” shrieked a voice from the bushes. “i know his name . “you hain't never goin' to marry him” “june !” he cried in amazement “why have you brought me here?” . "we'll fight you both!” . she made him tell of everything that had happened the trail of the lonesome pine i she he sat at the base of the big tree-her little sunbonnet pushed back, her arms locked about her knees, her bare feet gathered under her crimson gown and her deep eyes fixed on the smoke in the valley below. her breath was still coming fast between her parted lips. there were tiny drops along the roots of her shining hair, for the climb had been steep, and now the shadow of dis- appointment darkened her eyes. the mountains ran in limitless blue waves towards the mounting sun—but at birth her eyes had opened on them as on the white mists trailing up the steeps below her. beyond them was a gap in the next moun- tain chain and down in the little valley, just visible through it, were trailing blue mists as well, and she knew that they were smoke. where was the great glare of yellow light that the “circuit rider" had told about—and the leaping tongues of fire? where was the shrieking monster that ran without i the trail of the lonesome pine horses like the wind and tossed back rolling black plumes all streaked with fire? for many days now she had heard stories of the “furriners" who had come into those hills and were doing strange things down there, and so at last she had climbed up through the dewy morning from the cove on the other side to see the wonders for herself. she had never been up there before. she had no business there now, and, if she were found out when she got back, she would get a scolding and maybe something worse from her step-mother-and all that trouble and risk for nothing but smoke. so, she lay back and rested—her little mouth tighten- ing fiercely. it was a big world, though, that was spread before her and a vague awe of it seized her straightway and held her motionless and dreaming. beyond those white mists trailing up the hills, beyond the blue smoke drifting in the valley, those limitless blue waves must run under the sun on and on to the end of the world! her dead sister had gone into that far silence and had brought back wonderful stories of that outer world: and she began to wonder more than ever before whether she would ever go into it and see for herself what was there. with the thought, she rose slowly to her feet, moved slowly to the cliff that dropped sheer ten feet aside from the trail, and stood there like a great scarlet flower in still air. there was the way at her feet—that path that coiled under the cliff and ran down loop by loop through ma- the trail of the lonesome pine jestic oak and poplar and masses of rhododendron. she drew a long breath and stirred uneasily—she'd better go home now—but the path had a snake- like charm for her and still she stood, following it as far down as she could with her eyes. down it went, writhing this way and that to a spur that had been swept bare by forest fires. along this spur it travelled straight for a while and, as her eyes eagerly followed it to where it sank sharply into a covert of maples, the little creature dropped of a sudden to the ground and, like something wild, lay flat. a human figure had filled the leafy mouth that swallowed up the trail and it was coming towards her. with a thumping heart she pushed slowly forward through the brush until her face, fox-like with cunning and screened by a blueberry bush, hung just over the edge of the cliff, and there she lay, like a crouched panther-cub, looking down. for a moment, all that was human seemed gone from her eyes, but, as she watched, all that was lost came back to them, and something more. she had seen that it was a man, but she had dropped so quickly that she did not see the big, black horse that, unled, was following him. now both man and horse had stopped. the stranger had taken off his gray slouched hat and he was wiping his face with something white. something blue was tied loosely about his throat. she had never seen a man like that before. his face was the trail of the lonesome pine smooth and looked different, as did his throat and his hands. his breeches were tight and on his feet were strange boots that were the colour of his saddle, which was deep in seat, high both in front and behind and had strange long-hooded stirrups. starting to mount, the man stopped with one foot in the stirrup and raised his eyes towards her so suddenly that she shrank back again with a quicker throbbing at her heart and pressed closer to the earth. still, seen or not seen, flight was easy for her, so she could not forbear to look again. apparently, he had seen nothing-only that the next turn of the trail was too steep to ride, and so he started walking again, and his walk, as he strode along the path, was new to her, as was the erect way with which he held his head and his shoulders. in her wonder over him, she almost forgot her- self, forgot to wonder where he was going and why he was coming into those lonely hills until, as his horse turned a bend of the trail, she saw hanging from the other side of the saddle something that looked like a gun. he was a “raider”—that man: so, cautiously and swiftly then, she pushed herself back from the edge of the cliff, sprang to her feet, dashed past the big tree and, winged with fear, sped down the mountain—leaving in a spot of sun- light at the base of the pine the print of one bare foot in the black earth. ii he e had seen the big pine when he first came to those hills—one morning, at daybreak, when the valley was a sea of mist that threw soft clinging spray to the very mountain tops: for even above the mists, that morning, its mighty head arose-sole visible proof that the earth still slept beneath. straightway, he wondered how it had ever got there, so far above the few of its kind that haunted the green dark ravines far below. some whirlwind, doubtless, had sent a tiny cone circling heavenward and dropped it there. it had sent others, too, no doubt, but how had this tree faced wind and storm alone and alone lived to defy both so proudly? some day he would learn. there- after, he had seen it, at noon—but little less ma- jestic among the oaks that stood about it; had seen it catching the last light at sunset, clean-cut against the after-glow, and like a dark, silent, mysterious sentinel guarding the mountain pass under the moon. he had seen it giving place with sombre dignity to the passing burst of spring—had seen it green among dying autumn leaves, green in the gray of winter trees and still green in a shroud of snow—a changeless promise that the earth must the trail of the lonesome pine wake to life again. the lonesome pine, the mountaineers called it, and the lonesome pine it always looked to be. from the beginning it had a curious fascination for him, and straightway within him-half exile that he was there sprang up a sympathy for it as for something that was hu- man and a brother. and now he was on the trail of it at last. from every point that morning it had seemed almost to nod down to him as he climbed and, when he reached the ledge that gave him sight of it from base to crown, the winds murmured among its needles like a welcoming voice. at once, he saw the secret of its life. on each side rose a cliff that had sheltered it from storms until its trunk had shot upwards so far and so straight and so strong that its green crown could lift itself on and on and bend-blow what might—as proudly and securely as a lily on its stalk in a morning breeze. dropping his bridle rein he put one hand against it as though on the shoulder of a friend. “old man," he said, “you must be pretty lonesome up here, and i'm glad to meet you.” for a while he sat against it—resting. he had no particular purpose that day—no particular destination. his saddle-bags were across the cantle of his cow-boy saddle. his fishing rod was tied under one flap. he was young and his own master. time was hanging heavy on his hands that day and he loved the woods and the nooks and crannies of them where his own kind rarely she had never been up there before. the new york publc lbrary astor, lenox and tilden foundations r l the trail of the lonesome pine made its way. beyond, the cove looked dark, for- bidding, mysterious, and what was beyond he did not know. so down there he would go. as he bent his head forward to rise, his eye caught the spot of sunlight, and he leaned over it with a smile. in the black earth was a human foot-print-too small and slender for the foot of a man, a boy or a woman. beyond, the same prints were visible- wider apart—and he smiled again. a girl had been there. she was the crimson flash that he saw as he started up the steep and mistook for a flaming bush of sumach. she had seen him coming and she had fled. still smiling, he rose to his feet. iii on n one side he had left the earth yellow with the coming noon, but it was still morning as he went down on the other side. the laurel and rhododendron still reeked with dew in the deep, ever-shaded ravine. the ferns drenched his stir- rups, as he brushed through them, and each drip- ping tree-top broke the sunlight and let it drop in tent-like beams through the shimmering under- mist. a bird flashed here and there through the green gloom, but there was no sound in the air but the footfalls of his horse and the easy creaking of leather under him, the drip of dew overhead and the running of water below. now and then he could see the same slender foot-prints in the rich loam and he saw them in the sand where the first tiny brook tinkled across the path from a gloomy ravine. there the little creature had taken a fly- ing leap across it and, beyond, he could see the prints no more. he little guessed that while he halted to let his horse drink, the girl lay on a rock above him, looking down. she was nearer home now and was less afraid; so she had slipped from the trail and climbed above it there to watch him pass. as he went on, she slid from her perch and the trail of the lonesome pine with cat-footed quiet followed him. when he reached the river she saw him pull in his horse and eagerly bend forward, looking into a pool just below the crossing. there was a bass down there in the clear water-a big one—and the man whis- tled cheerily and dismounted, tying his horse to a sassafras bush and unbuckling a tin bucket and a curious looking net from his saddle. with the net in one hand and the bucket in the other, he turned back up the creek and passed so close to where she had slipped aside into the bushes that she came near shrieking, but his eyes were fixed on a pool of the creek above and, to her wonder, he strolled straight into the water, with his boots on, pushing the net in front of him. he was a “raider” sure, she thought now, and he was looking for a "moonshine" still, and the wild little thing in the bushes smiled cunningly, there was no still up that creek—and as he had left his horse below and his gun, she waited for him to come back, which he did, by and by, drip- ping and soaked to his knees. then she saw him untie the queer “gun" on his saddle, pull it out of a case and–her eyes got big with wonder—take it to pieces and make it into a long limber rod. in a moment he had cast a minnow into the pool and waded out into the water up to his hips. she had never seen so queer a fishing-pole—so queer a fish- erman. how could he get a fish out with that little switch, she thought contemptuously? by and by the trail of the lonesome pine something hummed queerly, the man gave a slight jerk and a shining fish flopped two feet into the air. it was surely very queer, for the man didn't put his rod over his shoulder and walk ashore, as did the mountaineers, but stood still, winding something with one hand, and again the fish would flash into the air and then that humming would start again while the fisherman would stand quiet and waiting for a while—and then he would begin to wind again. in her wonder, she rose uncon- sciously to her feet and a stone rolled down to the ledge below her. the fisherman turned his head and she started to run, but without a word he turned again to the fish he was playing. more- over, he was too far out in the water to catch her, so she advanced slowly—even to the edge of the stream, watching the fish cut half circles about the man. if he saw her, he gave no notice, and it was well that he did not. he was pulling the bass to and fro now through the water, tiring him out- drowning him-stepping backward at the same time, and, a moment later, the fish slid easily out of the edge of the water, gasping along the edge of a low sand-bank, and the fisherman reaching down with one hand caught him in the gills. then he looked up and smiled—and she had seen no smile like that before. “howdye, little girl ?” one bare toe went burrowing suddenly into the sand, one finger went to her red mouth—and that io the trail of the lonesome pine ?" was all. she merely stared hirn straight in the eye and he smiled again. “cat got your tongue her eyes fell at the ancient banter, but she lifted them straightway and stared again. “you live around here?” she stared on. “where?” no answer. “what's your name, little girl ?” and still she stared. “oh, well, of course, you can't talk, if the cat's got your tongue." the steady eyes leaped angrily, but there was still no answer, and he bent to take the fish off his hook, put on a fresh minnow, turned his back and tossed it into the pool. “hit hain't!” he looked up again. she surely was a pretty little thing—and more, now that she was angry. “i should say not,” he said teasingly. “what did you say your name was?” “what's yo' name?” the fisherman laughed. he was just becoming accustomed to the mountain etiquette that com- mands a stranger to divulge himself first. “my name's—jack.” “an' mine's—jill.” she laughed now, and it was his time for surprise—where could she have heard of jack and jill ? ii the trail of the lonesome pine а his line rang suddenly. "jack," she cried, “you got a bite!” he pulled, missed the strike, and wound in. the minnow was all right, so he tossed it back again. “that isn't your name,” he said. “if ’tain't, then that ain't your'n?” “yes 'tis,” he said, shaking his head affirma- tively a long cry came down the ravine: " j-u-n-e! eh-oh-j-u-n-e!” that was queer name for the mountains, and the fisherman wondered if he had heard aright— june. the little girl gave a shrill answering cry, but she did not move. “thar now!” she said. “who's that—your mammy?” “no, ’tain't-hit’s my step-mammy. i'm a goin' to ketch hell now." her innocent eyes turned sullen and her baby mouth tightened. 'good lord!” said the fisherman, startled, and then he stopped—the words were as innocent on her lips as a benediction. “have you got a father?” like a flash, her whole face changed. “i reckon i have." “where is he?" “hyeh he is!” drawled a voice from the bushes, and it had a tone that made the fisherman whirl suddenly. a giant mountaineer stood on the the trail of the lonesome pine bank above him, with a winchester in the hollow of his arm. “how are you?” the giant's heavy eyes lifted quickly, but he spoke to the girl. “you go on home—what you doin' hyeh gassin' with furriners!” the girl shrank to the bushes, but she cried sharply back: “don't you hurt him now, dad. he ain't even got a pistol. he ain't no- “ shet up!” the little creature vanished and the mountaineer turned to the fisherman, who had just put on a fresh minnow and tossed it into the river. “purty well, thank you," he said shortly. “how are you?” “fine!” was the nonchalant answer. moment there was silence and a puzzled frown gathered on the mountaineer's face. “that's a bright little girl of yours- what did she mean by telling you not to hurt me?" “you haven't been long in these mountains, have ye?" “no—not in these mountains—why?” the fisherman looked around and was almost startled by the fierce gaze of his questioner. “stop that, please,” he said, with a humourous smile. “you make me nervous.” the mountaineer's bushy brows came together across the bridge of his nose and his voice rumbled like distant thunder. for a the trail of the lonesome pine “what's yo' name, stranger, an' what's yo' business over hyeh?” “dear me, there you go! you can see i'm fishing, but why does everybody in these moun- tains want to know my name?” “you heerd me!” “yes.” the fisherman turned again and saw the giant's rugged face stern and pale with open anger now, and he, too, grew suddenly serious. ‘suppose i don't tell you," he said gravely. “what “git!” said the mountaineer, with a move of one huge hairy hand up the mountain. “an' git quick!" the fisherman never moved and there was the click of a shell thrown into place in the winches- ter and a guttural oath from the mountaineer's beard. “damn ye,” he said hoarsely, raising the rifle. “i'll give ye ” the i “don't, dad!” shrieked a voice from the bushes. “i know his name, hit's jack rest of the name was unintelligible. the moun- taineer dropped the butt of his gun to the ground and laughed. “oh, air you the engineer?” the fisherman was angry now. he had not moved hand or foot and he said nothing, but his mouth was set hard and his bewildered blue eyes had a glint in them that the mountaineer did not yonn “don't, dad!” shrieked a voice from the bushes. “i know his name.” the new york public library astor, lenox and tilden foundations r l the trail of the lonesome pine at the moment see. he was leaning with one arm on the muzzle of his winchester, his face had suddenly become suave and shrewd and now he laughed again: “so you're jack hale, air ye?” the fisherman spoke. “john hale, except to my friends.” he looked hard at the old man. “do you know that's a pretty dangerous joke of yours, my friend—i might have a gun myself sometimes. did you think you could scare me?” the mountaineer stared in genuine surprise. “twusn't no joke,” he said shortly. “an' i don't waste time skeering folks. i reckon you don't know who i be?” “i don't care who you are.” again the moun- taineer stared. “no use gittin' mad, young feller,” he said coolly. “i mistaken ye fer somebody else an' i axe yer pardon. when you git through fishin' come up to the house right up the creek thar an' i'll give ye a dram." “thank you,” said the fisherman stiffly, and the mountaineer turned silently away. at the edge of the bushes, he looked back; the stranger was still fishing, and the old man went on with a shake of his head. “he'll come,” he said to himself. “oh, he'll come!” that very point hale was debating with himself as he unavailingly cast his minnow into the swift the trail of the lonesome pine water and slowly wound it in again. how did that old man know his name? and would the old sav- age really have hurt him had he not found out who he was? the little girl was a wonder: evidently she had muffled his last name on purpose—not knowing it herself—and it was a quick and cun- ning ruse. he owed her something for that—why did she try to protect him ? wonderful eyes, too, the little thing had-deep and dark—and how the flame did dart from them when she got angry! he smiled, remembering—he liked that. and her hair—it was exactly like the gold-bronze on the wing of a wild turkey that he had shot the day before. well, it was noon now, the fish had stopped biting after the wayward fashion of bass, he was hungry and thirsty and he would go up and see the little girl and the giant again and get that promised dram. once more, however, he let his minnow float down into the shadow of a big rock, and while he was winding in, he looked up to see in the road two people on a gray horse, a man with a woman behind him—both old and spectacled-all three motionless on the bank and looking at him: and he wondered if all three had stopped to ask his name and his business. no, they had just come down to the creek and both they must know already. “ketching any ?” called out the old man, cheerily. "only one,” answered hale with equal cheer. the trail of the lonesome pine the old woman pushed back her bonnet as he waded through the water towards them and he saw that she was puffing a clay pipe. she looked at the fisherman and his tackle with the naïve won- der of a child, and then she said in a commanding undertone. “go on, billy." “now, ole hon, i wish ye'd jes’ wait a minute.” hale smiled. he loved old people, and two kinder faces he had never seen-two gentler voices he had never heard. “i reckon you got the only green pyerch up hyeh," said the old man, chuckling, “but thar's a sight of 'em down thar below my old mill.” quietly the old woman hit the horse with a stripped branch of elm and the old gray, with a switch of his tail, started. “wait a minute, hon,” he said again, appeal- ingly, “won't ye?" but calmly she hit the horse again and the old man called back over his shoul- der: “you come on down to the mill an' i'll show ye whar you can ketch a mess." “all right,” shouted hale, holding back his laughter, and on they went, the old man remon- strating in the kindliest way—the old woman silently puffing her pipe and making no answer except to flay gently the rump of the lazy old gray. hesitating hardly a moment, hale unjointed his pole, left his minnow bucket where it was, the trail of the lonesome pine mounted his horse and rode up the path. about him, the beech leaves gave back the gold of the autumn sunlight, and a little ravine, high under the crest of the mottled mountain, was on fire with the scarlet of maple. not even yet had the morn- ing chill left the densely shaded path. when he got to the bare crest of a little rise, he could see up the creek a spiral of blue rising swiftly from a stone chimney. geese and ducks were hunting crawfish in the little creek that ran from a milk- house of logs, half hidden by willows at the edge of the forest, and a turn in the path brought into view a log-cabin well chinked with stones and plaster, and with a well-built porch. a fence ran around the yard and there was a meat house near a little orchard of apple-trees, under which were many hives of bee-gums. this man had things "hung up” and was well-to-do. down the rise and through a thicket he went, and as he ap- proached the creek that came down past the cabin there was a shrill cry ahead of him. “whoa thar, buck! gee-haw, i tell ye!” an ox-wagon evidently was coming on, and the road was so narrow that he turned his horse into the bushes to let it pass. “whoa-haw!-gee-gee-buck, gee, i tell ye! i'll knock yo' fool head off the fust thing you know!" still there was no sound of ox or wagon and the voice sounded like a child's. so he went on at a the trail of the lonesome pine walk in the thick sand, and when he turned the bushes he pulled up again with a low laugh. in the road across the creek was a chubby, tow- haired boy with a long switch in his right hand, and a pine dagger and a string in his left. at- tached to the string and tied by one hind leg was a frog. the boy was using the switch as a goad and driving the frog as an ox, and he was as earnest as though both were real. “i give ye a little rest now, buck,” he said, shaking his head earnestly. “hit's a purty hard pull hyeh, but i know, by gum, you can make hit -if you hain't too durn lazy. now, git up, buck!” he yelled suddenly, flaying the sand with his switch. “git up-whoa-haw-gee, gee!” the frog hopped several times. 'whoa, now!” said the little fellow, panting in sympathy. “i knowed you could do it.” then he looked up. for an instant he seemed terrified but he did not run. instead he stealthily shifted the pine dagger over to his right hand and the string to his left. “here, boy,” said the fisherman with affected sternness: “what are you doing with that dag- ger?' the boy's breast heaved and his dirty fingers clenched tight around the whittled stick. “don't you talk to me that-a-way,” he said with an ominous shake of his head. “i'll gut ye!” the fisherman threw back his head, and his the trail of the lonesome pine peal of laughter did what his sternness failed to do. the little fellow wheeled suddenly, and his feet spurned the sand around the bushes for home —the astonished frog dragged bumping after him. “well!” said the fisherman. iv even ven the geese in the creek seemed to know that he was a stranger and to distrust him, for they cackled and, spreading their wings, fled cackling up the stream. as he neared the house, the little girl ran around the stone chimney, stopped short, shaded her eyes with one hand for a mo- ment and ran excitedly into the house. a moment later, the bearded giant slouched out, stooping his head as he came through the door. “hitch that ’ar post to yo' hoss and come right in,” he thundered cheerily. “i'm waitin' fer ye.' the little girl came to the door, pushed one brown slender hand through her tangled hair, caught one bare foot behind a deer-like ankle and stood motionless. behind her was the boy-his dagger still in hand. come right in!” said the old man, purty pore folks, but you're welcome to what we have.” the fisherman, too, had to stoop as he came in, for he, too, was tall. the interior was dark, in spite of the wood fire in the big stone fireplace. strings of herbs and red-pepper pods and twisted tobacco hung from the ceiling and down the wall on either side of the fire; and in one corner, near we are the trail of the lonesome pine the two beds in the room, hand-made quilts of many colours were piled several feet high. on wooden pegs above the door where ten years before would have been buck antlers and an old- fashioned rifle, lay a winchester; on either side of the door were auger holes through the logs (he did not understand that they were port-holes) and another winchester stood in the corner. from the mantel the butt of a big -colt's revolver protruded ominously. on one of the beds in the corner he could see the outlines of a figure lying under a brilliantly figured quilt, and at the foot of it the boy with the pine dagger had retreated for refuge. from the moment he stooped at the door something in the room had made him vaguely uneasy, and when his eyes in swift survey came back to the fire, they passed the blaze swiftly and met on the edge of the light another pair of eyes burning on him. “howdye!” said hale. “howdye!” was the low, unpropitiating answer. the owner of the eyes was nothing but a boy, in spite of his length: so much of a boy that a slight crack in his voice showed that it was just past the throes of “changing,” but those black eyes burned on without swerving--except once when they flashed at the little girl who, with her chin in her hand and one foot on the top rung of her chair, was gazing at the stranger with equal steadiness. she saw the boy's glance, she shifted the trail of the lonesome pine her knees impatiently and her little face grew sullen. hale smiled inwardly, for he thought he could already see the lay of the land, and he won- dered that, at such an age, such fierceness could be: so every now and then he looked at the boy, and every time he looked, the black eyes were on him. the mountain youth must have been al- most six feet tall, young as he was, and while he was lanky in limb he was well knit. his jean trousers were stuffed in the top of his boots and were tight over his knees which were well-moulded, and that is rare with a mountaineer. a loop of black hair curved over his forehead, down almost to his left eye. his nose was straight and almost delicate and his mouth was small, but extraor- dinarily resolute. somewhere he had seen that face before, and he turned suddenly, but he did not startle the lad with his abruptness, nor make him turn his gaze. "why, haven't -?” he said. and then he suddenly remembered. he had seen that boy not long since on the other side of the mountains, rid- ing his horse at a gallop down the county road with his reins in his teeth, and shooting a pistol alternately at the sun and the earth with either hand. perhaps it was as well not to recall the in- cident. he turned to the old mountaineer. “do you mean to tell me that a man can't go through these mountains without telling every- body who asks him what his name is ?” the trail of the lonesome pine bl the effect of his question was singular. the old man spat into the fire and put his hand to his beard. the boy crossed his legs suddenly and shoved his muscular fingers deep into his pockets. the figure shifted position on the bed and the infant at the foot of it seemed to clench his toy- dagger a little more tightly. only the little girl was motionless—she still looked at him, unwink- ing. what sort of wild animals had he fallen among? “no, he can't-an' keep healthy." the giant spoke shortly. “why not?" "well, if a man hain't up to some devilment, what reason's he got fer not tellin' his name?” “that's his business.' “tain't over hyeh. hit's mine. ef a man don't want to tell his name over hyeh, he's a spy or a raider or a officer looking fer somebody or, he added carelessly, but with a quick covert look at his visitor—“he's got some kind o’ business that he don't want nobody to know about.' “well, i came over here—just to—well, i hardly know why i did come.' “ jess so,” said the old man dryly. “an' if ye ain't looking fer trouble, you'd better tell your name in these mountains, whenever you're axed. ef enough people air backin' a custom anywhar hit goes, don't hit ?” his logic was good—and hale said nothing. the trail of the lonesome pine presently the old man rose with a smile on his face that looked cynical, picked up a black lump and threw it into the fire. it caught fire, crackled, blazed, almost oozed with oil, and hale leaned forward and leaned back. "pretty good coal!” “hain't it, though ?” the old man picked up a sliver that had flown to the hearth and held a match to it. the piece blazed and burned in his hand. “i never seed no coal in these mountains like that—did you?” “not often—find it around here?” right hyeh on this farm—about five feet thick!" “what?” “an' no partin'.” “no partin”-it was not often that he found a mountaineer who knew what a parting in a coal bed was. “a friend o' mine on t'other side,”—a light dawned for the engineer. “oh,” he said quickly. “that's how you knew my name. “right you air, stranger. he tol' me you was a-expert. the old man laughed loudly. “an' that's why you come over hyeh.” “no, it isn't.' “co’se not,”—the old fellow laughed again. hale shifted the talk. the trail of the lonesome pine je “well, now that you know my name, suppose you tell me what yours is?” “tolliver- judd tolliver.” hale started. “not devil judd!” “that's what some evil folks calls me.” again he spoke shortly. the mountaineers do not like to talk about their feuds. hale knew this—and the subject was dropped. but he watched the huge mountaineer with interest. there was no more famous character in all those hills than the giant before him-yet his face was kind and was good-humoured, but the nose and eyes were the beak and eyes of some bird of prey. the little girl had disappeared for a moment. she came back with a blue-backed spelling-book, a second reader and a worn copy of “mother goose,” and she opened first one and then the other until the attention of the visitor was caught—the black- haired youth watching her meanwhile with lowering brows. “where did you learn to read ?” hale asked. the old man answered: “a preacher come by our house over on the nawth fork 'bout three year ago, and afore i knowed it he made me promise to send her sister sally to some school up thar on the edge of the settlements. and after she come home, sal larned that little gal to read and spell. sal died 'bout a year ago hale reached over and got the spelling-book, the trail of the lonesome pine and the old man grinned at the quick, unerring responses of the little girl, and the engineer looked surprised. she read, too, with unusual facility, and her pronunciation was very precise and not at all like her speech. “you ought to send her to the same place,” he said, but the old fellow shook his head. “i couldn't git along without her.” the little girl's eyes began to dance suddenly, and, without opening “mother goose,” she began: jack and jill went up a hill,” and then she broke into a laugh and hale laughed with her. abruptly, the boy opposite rose to his great length. “i reckon i better be goin’.” that was all he said as he caught up a winchester, which stood unseen by his side, and out he stalked. there was not a word of good-by, not a glance at anybody. a few minutes later hale heard the creak of a barn door on wooden hinges, a cursing command to a horse, and four feet going in a gallop down the path, and he knew there went an enemy. “that's a good-looking boy—who is he?” the old man spat into the fire. it seemed that he was not going to answer and the little girl broke in: “hit's my cousin dave—he lives over on the nawth fork." that was the seat of the tolliver-falin feud. of that feud, too, hale had heard, and so no more the trail of the lonesome pine ca sa li along that line of inquiry. he, too, soon rose to go. ‘why, ain't ye goin' to have something to eat?” “oh, no, i've got something in my saddle- bags and i must be getting back to the gap.” “well, i reckon you ain't. you're jes' goin' to take a snack right here.” hale hesitated, but the little girl was looking at him with such uncon- scious eagerness in her dark eyes that he sat down again. “all right, i will, thank you.” at once she ran to the kitchen and the old man rose and pulled a bottle of white liquid from under the quilts. “i reckon i can trust ye,” he said. the liquor burned hale like fire, and the old man, with a laugh at the face the stranger made, tossed off a tumblerful. “gracious!” said hale, “can you do that often?” “afore breakfast, dinner and supper,” said the old man—"but i don't.” hale felt a plucking at his sleeve. it was the boy with the dagger at his elbow. “less see you laugh that-a-way agin,” said bub with such deadly seriousness that hale un- consciously broke into the same peal. “now,” said bub, unwinking, “i ain't afeard o'you no more. v awaiting, dinner, the mountaineer and the “furriner” sat on the porch while bub carved away at another pine dagger on the stoop. as hale passed out the door, a querulous voice said “howdye" from the bed in the corner and he knew it was the step-mother from whom the little girl expected some nether-world punish- ment for an offence of which he was ignorant. he had heard of the feud that had been going on between the red falins and the black tollivers for a quarter of a century, and this was devil judd, who had earned his nickname when he was the leader of his clan by his terrible strength, his marksmanship, his cunning and his courage. some years since the old man had retired from the leadership, because he was tired of fighting or because he had quarrelled with his brother dave and his foster-brother, bad rufe—known as the terror of the tollivers-or from some unknown reason, and in consequence there had been peace for a long time—the falins fearing that devil judd would be led into the feud again, the tollivers wary of starting hostilities without his aid. after the last trouble, bad rufe tolliver had gone west and old judd had moved his family as far the trail of the lonesome pine he away as possible. hale looked around him: this, then, was the home of devil judd tolliver; the little creature inside was his daughter and her name was june. all around the cabin the wooded mountains towered except where, straight before his eyes, lonesome creek slipped through them to the river, and the old man had certainly picked out the very heart of silence for his home. there was no neighbour within two leagues, judd said, except old squire billy beams, who ran a mill a mile down the river. no wonder the spot was called lonesome cove. “you must ha' seed uncle billy and ole hon passin',” he said. “i did.” devil judd laughed and hale made out that “hon” was short for honey. "uncle billy used to drink right smart. ole hon broke him. she followed him down to the grocery one day and walked in. 'come on, boys -let's have a drink'; and she set 'em up an' set 'em up until uncle billy most went crazy. he had hard work gittin' her home, an' uncle billy hain't teched a drap since.” and the old moun- taineer chuckled again. all the time hale could hear noises from the kitchen inside. the old step-mother was abed, he had seen no other woman about the house and he wondered if the child could be cooking dinner. her aushed face answered when she opened the kitchen door and called them in. she had not lo hr lo the trail of the lonesome pine only cooked but now she served as well, and when he thanked her, as he did every time she passed something to him, she would colour faintly. once or twice her hand seemed to tremble, and he never looked at her but her questioning dark eyes were full upon him, and always she kept one hand busy pushing her thick hair back from her fore- head. he had not asked her if it was her foot- prints he had seen coming down the mountain for fear that he might betray her, but apparently she had told on herself, for bub, after a while, burst out suddenly: “june, thar, thought you was a raider.” the little girl fushed and the old man laughed. “so'd you, pap,” she said quietly. “that's right,” he said. “so'd anybody. i reckon you're the first man that ever come over hyeh jus' to go a-fishin',” and he laughed again. the stress on the last words showed that he be- lieved no man had yet come just for that purpose, and hale merely laughed with him. the old fel- low gulped his food, pushed his chair back, and when hale was through, he wasted no more time. “want to see that coal ?” “yes, i do,” said hale. “all right, i'll be ready in a minute." the little girl followed hale out on the porch and stood with her back against the railing. “did you catch it?” he asked. she nodded, unsmiling the trail of the lonesome pine “i'm sorry. what were you doing up there?” she showed no surprise that he knew that she had been up there, and while she answered his ques- tion, he could see that she was thinking of some- thing else. “i'd heerd so much about what you furriners was a-doin' over thar." “you must have heard about a place farther over—but it's coming over there, too, some day.” and still she looked an unspoken question. the fish that hale had caught was lying where he had left it on the edge of the porch. “that's for you, june,” he said, pointing to it, and the name as he spoke it was sweet to his ears. “i'm much obleeged,” she said, shyly. “i'd 'a' cooked hit fer ye if i'd 'a' knowed you wasn't goin' to take hit home.” “that's the reason i didn't give it to you at first—i was afraid you'd do that. i wanted you to have it.” “much obleeged," she said again, still unsmil- ing, and then she suddenly looked up at him—the deeps of her dark eyes troubled. “air ye ever comin' back agin, jack ?" hale was not accustomed to the familiar form of ad- dress common in the mountains, independent of sex or age—and he would have been staggered had not her face been so serious. and then few women had ever called him by his first name, and this time his own name was good to his ears. the trail of the lonesome pine “yes, june,” he said soberly. “not for some time, maybe—but i'm coming back again, sure.” she smiled then with both lips and eyes-radi- antly. “i'll be lookin' fer ye,” she said simply. vi the old man went with him up the creek and, passing the milk house, turned up a brush- bordered little branch in which the engineer saw signs of coal. up the creek the mountaineer led him some thirty yards above the water level and stopped. an entry had been driven through the rich earth and ten feet within was a shining bed of coal. there was no parting except two inches of mother-of-coal-midway, which would make it but easier to mine. who had taught that old man to open coal in such a way—to make such a fac- ing? it looked as though the old fellow were in some scheme with another to get him interested. as he drew closer, he saw radiations of some twelve inches, all over the face of the coal, star- shaped, and he almost gasped. it was not only cannel coal-it was “bird's-eye” cannel. heav- ens, what a find! instantly he was the cautious man of business, alert, cold, uncommunicative. “that looks like a pretty good—” he drawled the last two words—"vein of coal. i'd like to take a sample over to the gap and analyze it.” his ham- mer, which he always carried—was in his saddle pockets, but he did not have to go down to his the trail of the lonesome pine horse. there were pieces on the ground that would suit his purpose, left there, no doubt, by his predecessor. "now i reckon you know that i know why you came over hyeh.” hale started to answer, but he saw it was no use. “yes—and i'm coming again-for the same reason. “shore come agin and come often.” the little girl was standing on the porch as he rode past the milk house the milk house. he waved his hand to her, but she did not move nor answer. what a life for a child—for that keen-eyed, sweet-faced child! but that coal, cannel, rich as oil, above water, five feet in thickness, easy to mine, with a solid roof and perhaps self-drainage, if he could judge from the dip of the vein: and a market every- where-england, spain, italy, brazil. the coal, to be sure, might not be persistent-thirty yards within it might change in quality to ordinary bituminous coal, but he could settle that only with a steam drill. a steam drill! he would as well ask for the wagon that he had long ago hitched to a star; and then there might be a fault in the formation. but why bother now? the coal would stay there, and now he had other plans that made even that find insignificant. and yet if he bought that coal now—what a bargain! it was not that the ideals of his college days were tar- the trail of the lonesome pine nished, but he was a man of business now, and if he would take the old man's land for a song—it was because others of his kind would do the same! but why bother, he asked himself again, when his brain was in a ferment with a colossal scheme that would make dizzy the magnates who would some day drive their roadways of steel into those wild hills. so he shook himself free of the question, which passed from his mind only with a transient wonder as to who it was that had told of him to the old mountaineer, and had so paved his way for an investigation—and then he wheeled suddenly in his saddle. the bushes had rustled gently be- hind him and out from them stepped an extraor- dinary human shapewearing a coon-skin cap, belted with two rows of big cartridges, carrying a big winchester over one shoulder and a circular tube of brass in his left hand. with his right leg straight, his left thigh drawn into the hollow of his saddle and his left hand on the rump of his horse, hale simply stared, his eyes dropping by and by from the pale-blue eyes and stubbly red beard of the stranger, the cartridge-belts to the man's feet, on which were moccasins—with the heels forward! into what sort of a world had he dropped! “so nary a soul can tell which way i'm going," said the red-haired stranger, with a grin that loosed a hollow chuckle far behind it. “would you mind telling me what difference it down past the trail of the lonesome pine can make to me which way you are going?” every moment he was expecting the stranger to ask his name, but again that chuckle came. “it makes a mighty sight o' difference to some folks.” “but none to me." “i hain't wearin' 'em fer you. i know you." "oh, you do.” the stranger suddenly lowered his winchester and turned his face, with his ear cocked like an animal. there was some noise on the spur above. “nothin' but a hickory nut,” said the chuckle again. but hale had been studying that strange face. one side of it was calm, kindly, philosophic, benevolent; but, when the other was turned, a curious twitch of the muscles at the left side of the mouth showed the teeth and made a snarl there that was wolfish. “yes, and i know you,” he said slowly. self- satisfaction, straightway, was ardent in the face. “i knowed you would git to know me in time, if you didn't now.” this was the red fox of the mountains, of whom he had heard so much—"yarb” doctor and swedenborgian preacher; revenue officer and, some said, cold blooded murderer. he would walk twenty miles to preach, or would start at any hour of the day or night to minister to the sick, and would charge for neither service. at other hours he would be searching for moonshine stills, the trail of the lonesome pine or watching his enemies in the valley from some mountain top, with that huge spy-glass-hale could see now that the brass tube was a telescope —that he might slip down and unawares take a pot-shot at them. the red fox communicated with spirits, had visions and superhuman powers of locomotion-stepping mysteriously from the bushes, people said, to walk at the traveller's side and as mysteriously disappearing into them again, to be heard of in a few hours an incredible dis- tance away "i've been watchin' ye from up thar,” he said with a wave of his hand. “i seed ye go up the creek, and then the bushes hid ye. i know what you was after—but did you see any signs up thar of anything you wasn't looking fer?” hale laughed. “well, i've been in these mountains long enough not to tell the red fox chuckled. “i wasn't sure you had—” hale coughed and spat to the other side of his horse. when he looked around, the red fox was gone, and he had heard no sound of his going. “well, i be-" hale clucked to his horse and as he climbed the last steep and drew near the big pine he again heard a noise out in the woods and he knew this time it was the fall of a human foot and not of a hickory nut. right, and, as he rode by the pine, saw again at its you, if i had.” he was the trail of the lonesome pine base the print of the little girl's foot-wondering afresh at the reason that led her up there—and dropped down through the afternoon shadows towards the smoke and steam and bustle and greed of the twentieth century. a long, lean, black-eyed boy, with a wave of black hair over his forehead, was pushing his horse the other way along the big black and dropping down through the dusk into the middle ages—both all but touching on either side the outstretched hands of the wild little creature left in the shadows of lone- some cove. vii past the big pine, swerving with a smile his horse aside that he might not obliterate the foot-print in the black earth, and down the moun- tain, his brain busy with his big purpose, went john hale, by instinct, inheritance, blood and tradition—pioneer. one of his forefathers had been with washing- ton on the father's first historic expedition into the wilds of virginia. his great-grandfather had accompanied boone when that hunter first pene- trated the “dark and bloody ground,” had gone back to virginia and come again with a surveyor's chain and compass to help wrest it from the red men, among whom there had been an immemorial conflict for possession and a never-recognized claim of ownership. that compass and that chain his grandfather had fallen heir to and with that compass and chain his father had earned his live- lihood amid the wrecks of the civil war. hale went to the old transylvania university at lex- ington, the first seat of learning planted beyond the alleghanies. he was fond of history, of the sciences and literature, was unusually adept in latin and greek, and had a passion for mathe- the trail of the lonesome pine matics. he was graduated with honours, he taught two years and got his degree of master of arts, but the pioneer spirit in his blood would still out, and his polite learning he then threw to the winds. other young kentuckians had gone west in shoals, but he kept his eye on his own state, and one autumn he added a pick to the old compass and the ancestral chain, struck the old wilderness trail that his grandfather had travelled, to look for his own fortune in a land which that old gentle- man had passed over as worthless. at the cum- berland river he took a canoe and drifted down the river into the wild coal-swollen hills. through the winter he froze, starved and prospected, and a year later he was opening up a region that became famous after his trust and inexperience had let others worm out of him an interest that would have made him easy for life. with the vision of a seer, he was as innocent as boone. stripped clean, he got out his map, such geological reports as he could find and went into a studious trance for a month, emerging mentally with the freshness of a snake that has shed its skin. what had happened in pennsylvania must hap- pen all along the great alleghany chain in the mountains of virginia, west virginia, kentucky, alabama, tennessee. some day the avalanche must sweep south, it must-it must. that he might be a quarter of a century too soon in his the trail of the lonesome pine gaps through calculations never crossed his mind. some day it must come. now there was not an ounce of coal immedi- ately south-east of the cumberland mountains, not an ounce of iron ore immediately north-east; all the coal lay to the north-east; all of the iron ore to the south-east. so said geology. for three hundred miles there were only four that mighty mountain chain—three at water level, and one at historic cumberland gap which was not at water level and would have to be tunnelled. so said geography. all railroads, to east and to west, would have to pass through those gaps; through them the coal must be brought to the iron ore, or the ore to the coal. through three gaps water flowed between ore and coal and the very hills between were lime- stone. was there any such juxtaposition of the four raw materials for the making of iron in the known world ? when he got that far in his logic, the sweat broke from his brows; he felt dizzy and he got up and walked into the open air. as the vastness and certainty of the scheme—what fool could not see it ?-rushed through him full force, he could scarcely get his breath. there must be a town in one of those gaps—but in which ? no matter-he would buy all of them-all of them, he repeated over and over again; for some day there must be a town in one, and some day a town in all, and from all he would reap his harvest he the trail of the lonesome pine quest. that optioned those four gaps at a low purchase price that was absurd. he went back to the bluegrass; he went to new york; in some way he managed to get to england. it had never crossed his mind that other eyes could not see what he so clearly saw and yet everywhere he was pronounced crazy. he failed and his options ran out, but he was un- daunted. he picked his choice of the four gaps and gave up the other three. this favourite gap he had just finished optioning again, and now again he meant to keep at his old gap he was entering now from the north side and the north fork of the river was hurrying to enter too. on his left was a great gray rock, projecting edge- wise, covered with laurel and rhododendron, and under it was the first big pool from which the stream poured faster still. there had been a ter- rible convulsion in that gap when the earth was young; the strata had been tossed upright and planted almost vertical for all time, and, a little far- ther, one mighty ledge, moss-grown, bush-covered, sentinelled with grim pines, their bases unseen, seemed to be making a heavy flight toward the clouds. big bowlders began to pop up in the river-bed and against them the water dashed and whirled and eddied backward in deep pools, while above him the song of a cataract dropped dow a tree- choked ravine. just there the drop came, and for a long space he could see the river lashing rock and the trail of the lonesome pine cliff with increasing fury as though it were seeking shelter from some relentless pursuer in the dark thicket where it disappeared. straight in front of him another ledge lifted itself. beyond that loomed a mountain which stopped in mid-air and dropped sheer to the eye. its crown was bare and hale knew that up there was a mountain farm, the refuge of a man who had been involved in that terrible feud beyond black mountain behind him. five minutes later he was at the yawning mouth of the gap and there lay before him a beautiful valley shut in tightly, for all the eye could see, with mighty hills. it was the heaven-born site for the unborn city of his dreams, and his eyes swept every curve of the valley lovingly. the two forks of the river ran around it—he could follow their course by the trees that lined the banks of each- curving within a stone's throw of each other across the valley and then looping away as from the neck of an ancient lute and, like its framework, coming together again down the valley, where they surged together, slipped through the hills and sped on with the song of a sweeping river. up that river could come the track of commerce, out the south fork, too, it could go, though it had to turn east- ward: back through that gap it could be traced north and west; and so none could come as her- alds into those hills but their footprints could be traced through that wild, rocky, water-worn chasm. hale drew breath and raised in his stirrups. the trail of the lonesome pine “it's a cinch," he said aloud. “it's a shame to take the money. yet nothing was in sight now but a valley farm- house above the ford where he must cross the river and one log cabin on the hill beyond. still on the the other river was the only woollen mill in miles around; farther up was the only grist mill, and near by was the only store, the only black- smith shop and the only hotel. that much of a start the gap had had for three-quarters of a cen- tury-only from the south now a railroad was already coming; from the east another was trav- elling like a wounded snake and from the north still another creeped to meet them. every road must run through the gap and several had already run through it lines of survey. the coal was at one end of the gap, and the iron ore at the other, the cliffs between were limestone, and the other elements to make it the iron centre of the world flowed through it like a torrent. “selah! it's a shame to take the money. he splashed into the creek and his big black horse thrust his nose into the clear running water. minnows were playing about him. a hog-fish flew for shelter under a rock, and below the ripples a two-pound bass shot like an arrow into deep water. above and below him the stream was arched with beech, poplar and water maple, and the banks were thick with laurel and rhododendron. his eye had never rested on a lovelier stream, and the trail of the lonesome pine on the other side of the town site, which nature had kindly lifted twenty feet above the water level, the other fork was of equal clearness, swift- ness and beauty. “such a drainage,” murmured his engineering instinct. “such a drainage!” it was saturday. even if he had forgotten he would have known that it must be saturday when he climbed the bank on the other side. many horses were hitched under the trees, and here and there was a farm- wagon with fragments of paper, bits of food and an empty bottle or two lying around. it was the hour when the alcoholic spirits of the day were usually most high. evidently they were running quite high that day and something distinctly was going on “up town.” a few yells—the high, clear, penetrating yell of a fox-hunter-rent the air, a chorus of pistol shots rang out, and the thunder of horses' hoofs started beyond the little slope he was climbing. when he reached the top, a merry youth, with a red, hatless head was splitting the dirt road toward him, his reins in his teeth, and a pistol in each hand, which he was letting off alter- nately into the inoffensive earth and toward the unrebuking heavens—that seemed a favourite way in those mountains of defying god and the devil—and behind him galloped a dozen horsemen to the music of throat, pistol and iron hoof. the fiery-headed youth's horse swerved and shot by. hale hardly knew that the rider even the trail of the lonesome pine saw him, but the coming ones saw him afar and they seemed to be charging him in close array. hale stopped his horse a little to the right of the centre of the road, and being equally helpless against an inherited passion for maintaining his own rights and a similar disinclination to get out of anybody's way–he sat motionless. two of the coming horsemen, side by side, were a little in advance. “git out o' the road!” they yelled. had he made the motion of an arm, they might have rid- den or shot him down, but the simple quietness of him as he sat with hands crossed on the pommel of his saddle, face calm and set, eyes unwavering and fearless, had the effect that nothing else he could have done would have brought about—and they swerved on either side of him, while the rest swerved, too, like sheep, one stirrup brushing his, as they swept by. hale rode slowly on. he could hear the mountaineers yelling on top of the hill, but he did not look back. several bullets sang over his head. most likely they were simply “bantering” him, but no matter-he rode on. the blacksmith, the storekeeper and one pass- ing drummer were coming in from the woods when he reached the hotel. “a gang o'those falins," said the storekeeper, "they come over lookin' for young dave tolliver. they didn't find him, so they thought they'd have some fun”; and he pointed to the hotel sign which i the trail of the lonesome pine was punctuated with pistol-bullet periods. hale's eyes flashed once but he said nothing. he turned his horse over to a stable boy and went across to the little frame cottage that served as office and home for him. while he sat on the veranda that almost hung over the mill-pond of the other stream three of the falins came riding back. one of them had left something at the hotel, and while he was gone in for it, another put a bullet through the sign, and seeing hale rode over to him. hale's blue eye looked anything than friendly. "don't ye like it?" asked the horseman. “i do not,” said hale calmly. the horseman seemed amused. “well, whut you goin' to do about it?” “nothing—at least not now." “all right—whenever you git ready. you ain't ready now?” “no,” said hale, “not now.” the fellow laughed. “hit's a damned good thing for you that you ain't.” hale looked long after the three as they gal- loped down the road. “when i start to build this town,” he thought gravely and without humour, “i'll put a stop to all that.” viii on a spur of black mountain, beyond the kentucky line, a lean horse was tied to a sassafras bush, and in a clump of rhododendron ten yards away, a lean black-haired boy sat with a winchester between his stomach and thighs, waiting for the dusk to drop. his chin was in both hands, the brim of his slouch hat was curved crescent-wise over his forehead, and his eyes were on the sweeping bend of the river below him. that was the “bad bend” down there, peopled with ancestral enemies and the head-quarters of their leader for the last ten years. though they had been at peace for some time now, it had been saturday in the county town ten miles down the river as well, and nobody ever knew what a sat- urday might bring forth between his people and them. so he would not risk riding through that bend by the light of day. all the long way up spur after spur and along ridge after ridge, all along the still, tree-crested top of the big black, he had been thinking of the man—the “furriner” whom he had seen at his uncle's cabin in lonesome cove. he was think- ing of him still, as he sat there waiting for dark- the trail of the lonesome pine ness to come, and the two vertical little lines in his forehead, that had hardly relaxed once during his climb, got deeper and deeper, as his brain puz- zled into the problem that was worrying it: who the stranger was, what his business was over in the cove and his business with the red fox with whom the boy had seen him talking. he had heard of the coming of the “furriners” on the virginia side. he had seen some of them, he was suspicious of all of them, he disliked them all—but this man he hated straightway. he hated his boots and his clothes; the way he sat and talked, as though he owned the earth, and the lad snorted contemptuously under his breath: “he called pants 'trousers.”” it was a fearful indictment, and he snorted again: “trousers!” the “furriner" might be a spy or a revenue officer, but deep down in the boy's heart the sus- picion had been working that he had gone over there to see his little cousin-the girl whom, boy that he was, he had marked, when she was even more of a child than she was now, for his own. his people understood it as did her father, and, child though she was, she, too, understood it. the difference between her and the “furriner”-dif- ference in age, condition, way of life, education, meant nothing to him, and as his suspicion deep- ened, his hands dropped and gripped his win- chester, and through his gritting teeth came vaguely: the trail of the lonesome pine “by god, if he does—if he just does!” away down at the lower end of the river's curv- ing sweep, the dirt road was visible for a hundred yards or more, and even while he was cursing to himself, a group of horsemen rode into sight. all seemed to be carrying something across their saddle bows, and as the boy's eyes caught them, he sank sidewise out of sight and stood upright, peering through a bush of rhododendron. some- thing had happened in town that day—for the horsemen carried winchesters, and every foreign thought in his brain passed like breath from a window pane, while his dark, thin face whitened a little with anxiety and wonder. swiftly he stepped backward, keeping the bushes between him and his far-away enemies. another knot he gave the reins around the sassafras bush and then, winchester in hand, he dropped noiseless as an indian, from rock to rock, tree to tree, down the sheer spur on the other side. twenty minutes later, he lay behind a bush that was sheltered by the top boulder of the rocky point under which the road ran. his enemies were in their own country; they would probably be talking over the happenings in town that day, and from them he would learn what was going on. so long he lay that he got tired and out of pa- tience, and he was about to creep around the boulder, when the clink of a horseshoe against a stone told him they were coming, and he flattened the trail of the lonesome pine to the earth and closed his eyes that his ears might be more keen. the falins were riding silently, but as the first two passed under him, one said: “i'd like to know who the hell warned 'em!” “whar's the red fox ?" was the significant answer. the boy's heart leaped. there had been dev- iltry abroad, but his kinsmen had escaped. no one uttered a word as they rode two by two, under him, but one voice came back to him as they turned the point. “i wonder if the other boys ketched young dave?" he could not catch the answer to that- only the oath that was in it, and when the sound of the horses' hoofs died away, he turned over on his back and stared up at the sky. some trouble had come and through his own caution, and the mercy of providence that had kept him away from the gap, he had had his escape from death that day. he would tempt that providence no more, even by climbing back to his horse in the waning light, and it was not until dusk had fallen that he was leading the beast down the spur and into a ravine that sank to the road. there he waited an hour, and when another horseman passed he still waited a while. cautiously then, with ears alert, eyes straining through the darkness and winches- ter ready, he went down the road at a slow walk. there was a light in the first house, but the front door was closed and the road was deep with sand, the trail of the lonesome pine as he knew; so he passed noiselessly. at the second house, light streamed through the open door; he could hear talking on the porch and he halted. he could neither cross the river nor get around the house by the rear—the ridge was too steep—so he drew off into the bushes, where he had to wait another hour before the talking ceased. there was only one more house now between him and the mouth of the creek, where he would be safe, and he made up his mind to dash by it. that house, too, was lighted and the sound of fiddling struck his ears. he would give them a surprise; so he gathered his reins and winchester in his left hand, drew his revolver with his right, and within thirty yards started his horse into a run, yelling like an indian and firing his pistol in the air. as he swept by, two or three figures dashed pell-mell indoors, and he shouted derisively: “run, damn ye, run!” they were running for their guns, he knew, but the taunt would hurt and he was pleased. as he swept by the edge of a cornfield, there was a flash of light from the base of a cliff straight across, and a bullet sang over him, then another and another, but he sped on, cursing and yelling and shooting his own win- chester up in the air—all harmless, useless, but just to hurl defiance and taunt them with his safety. his father's house was not far away, there was no sound of pursuit, and when he reached the river he drew down to a walk and stopped short in the trail of the lonesome pine a shadow. something had clicked in the bushes above him and he bent over his saddle and lay close to his horse's neck. the moon was rising behind him and its light was creeping toward him through the bushes. in a moment he would be full in its yellow light, and he was slipping from his horse to dart aside into the bushes, when a voice ahead of him called sharply: “that you, dave?” it was his father, and the boy's answer was a loud laugh. several men stepped from the bushes —they had heard firing and, fearing that young dave was the cause of it, they had run to his help. “what the hell you mean, boy, kickin' up such a racket?” “oh, i knowed somethin'd happened an' i wanted to skeer 'em a leetle." “yes, an' you never thought o' the trouble you might be causin' us." “don't you bother about me. i can take keer o'myself.” old dave tolliver grunted—though at heart he was deeply pleased. “well, you come on home!” all went silently—the boy getting meagre mono- syllabic answers to his eager questions but, by the time they reached home, he had gathered the story of what had happened in town that day. there were more men in the porch of the house and all were armed. the women of the house moved the trail of the lonesome pine about noiselessly and with drawn faces. there were no lights lit, and nobody stood long even in the light of the fire where he could be seen through a window; and doors were opened and passed through quickly. the falins had opened the feud that day, for the boy's foster-uncle, bad rufe tolliver, contrary to the terms of the last truce, had come home from the west, and one of his kinsmen had been wounded. the boy told what he had heard while he lay over the road along which some of his enemies had passed and his father nodded. the falins had learned in some way that the lad was going to the gap that day and had sent men after him. who was the spy? “you told me you was a-goin' to the gap,” said old dave. “whar was ye?” “i didn't git that far," said the boy. the old man and loretta, young dave's sister, laughed, and quiet smiles passed between the others. "well, you'd better be keerful ’bout gittin' even as far as you did git—wharever that was—from now on. “i ain't afeered,” the boy said sullenly, and he turned into the kitchen. still sullen, he ate his supper in silence and his mother asked him no questions. he was worried that bad rufe had come back to the mountains, for rufe was always teasing june and there was something in his bold, black eyes that made the lad furious, even when the trail of the lonesome pine the foster-uncle was looking at loretta or the little girl in lonesome cove. and yet that was nothing to his new trouble, for his mind hung persistently to the stranger and to the way june had behaved in the cabin in lonesome cove. before he went to bed, he slipped out to the old well behind the house and sat on the water-trough in gloomy un- rest, looking now and then at the stars that hung over the cove and over the gap beyond, where the stranger was bound. it would have pleased him a good deal could he have known that the stranger was pushing his big black horse on his way, under those stars, toward the outer world. ix it t was court day at the county seat across the kentucky line. hale had risen early, as every- one must if he would get his breakfast in the mountains, even in the hotels in the county seats, and he sat with his feet on the railing of the hotel porch which fronted the main street of the town. he had had his heart-breaking failures since the autumn before, but he was in good cheer now, for his feverish enthusiasm had at last clutched a man who would take up not only his options on the great gap beyond black mountain but on the cannel-coal lands of devil judd tolliver as well. he was riding across from the bluegrass to meet this man at the railroad in virginia, nearly two hundred miles away; he had stopped to examine some titles at the county seat and he meant to go on that day by way of lonesome cove. opposite was the brick court house—every window lack- ing at least one pane, the steps yellow with dirt and tobacco juice, the doorway and the bricks about the upper windows bullet-dented and elo- quent with memories of the feud which had long embroiled the whole county. not that everybody took part in it but, on the matter, everybody, as the trail of the lonesome pine an old woman told him, “had feelin's. it had begun, so he learned, just after the war. two boys were playing marbles in the road along the cumberland river, and one had a patch on the seat of his trousers. the other boy made fun of it and the boy with the patch went home and told his father. as a result there had already been thirty years of local war. in the last race for legis- lature, political issues were submerged and the feud was the sole issue. and a tolliver had car- ried that boy's trouser-patch like a flag to victory and was sitting in the lower house at that time helping to make laws for the rest of the state. now bad rufe tolliver was in the hills again and the end was not yet. already people were pour- ing in, men, women and children—the men slouch-hatted and stalking through the mud in the rain, or filing in on horseback riding double sometimes—two men or two women, or a man with his wife or daughter behind him, or a woman with a baby in her lap and two more children be- hind—all dressed in homespun or store-clothes, and the paint from artificial flowers on her hat streaking the face of every girl who had unwisely scanned the heavens that morning. soon the square was filled with hitched horses, and an auctioneer was bidding off cattle, sheep, hogs and horses to the crowd of mountaineers about him, while the women sold eggs and butter and bought things for use at home. now and then, an open the trail of the lonesome pine feudsman with a winchester passed and many a man was belted with cartridges for the big pistol dangling at his hip. when court opened, the rain ceased, the sun came out and hale made his way through the crowd to the battered temple of jus- tice. on one corner of the square he could see the chief store of the town marked “buck falin- general merchandise," and the big man in the door with the bushy redhead, he guessed, was the leader of the falin clan. outside the door stood a smaller replica of the same figure, whom he rec- ognized as the leader of the band that had nearly ridden him down at the gap when they were look- ing for young dave tolliver, the autumn before. . that, doubtless, was young buck. for a moment he stood at the door of the court-room. a falin was on trial and the grizzled judge was speaking angrily: “this is the third time you've had this trial postponed because you hain't got no lawyer. i ain't goin' to put it off. have you got you a law- yer now?" “yes, jedge,” said the defendant. “well, whar is he?” “over thar on the jury." the judge looked at the man on the jury. “well, i reckon you better leave him whar he is. he'll do you more good thar than any whar else.” hale laughed aloud—the judge glared at him and he turned quickly upstairs to his work in the the trail of the lonesome pine deed-room. till noon he worked and yet there was no trouble. after dinner he went back and in two hours his work was done. an atmospheric difference he felt as soon as he reached the door. the crowd had melted from the square. there were no women in sight, but eight armed men were in front of the door and two of them, a red falin and a black tolliver-bad rufe it was- were quarrelling. in every doorway stood a man cautiously looking on, and in a hotel window he saw a woman's frightened face. it was so still that it seemed impossible that a tragedy could be imminent, and yet, while he was trying to take the conditions in, one of the quarrelling men-bad rufe tolliver-whipped out his revolver and be- fore he could level it, a falin struck the muzzle of a pistol into his back. another tolliver flashed his weapon on the falin. this tolliver was cov- ered by another falin and in so many flashes of lightning the eight men in front of him were cov- ering each other-every man afraid to be the first to shoot, since he knew that the flash of his own pistol meant instantaneous death for him. as hale shrank back, he pushed against somebody who thrust him aside. it was the judge: “why don't somebody shoot ?” he asked sar- castically. “you're a purty set o’ fools, ain't you? i want you all to stop this damned foolishness. now when i give the word i want you, jim falin and rufe tolliver thar, to drap yer guns. the trail of the lonesome pine already rufe was grinning like a devil over the absurdity of the situation. “now!” said the judge, and the two guns were dropped. "put 'em in yo' pockets." they did. “drap!” all dropped and, with those two, all put up their guns—each man, however, watching now the man who had just been covering him. it is not wise for the stranger to show too much in- terest in the personal affairs of mountain men, and hale left the judge berating them and went to the hotel to get ready for the gap, little dreaming how fixed the faces of some of those men were in his brain and how, later, they were to rise in his memory again. his horse was lame—but he must go on: so he hired a “yaller" mule from the landlord, and when the beast was brought around, he overheard twomen talking at the end of the porch. “you don't mean to say they've made peace?” “yes, rufe's going away agin and they shuk hands—all of 'em.” the other laughed. “rufe ain't gone yit!” the cumberland river was rain-swollen. the home-going people were helping each other across it and, as hale approached the ford of a creek half a mile beyond the river, a black-haired girl was standing on a boulder looking helplessly at the yellow water, and two boys were on the ground below her. one of them looked up at hale: the trail of the lonesome pine “i wish ye'd help this lady 'cross." "certainly,” said hale, and the girl giggled when he laboriously turned his old mule up to the boulder. not accustomed to have ladies ride be- hind him, hale had turned the wrong side. again he laboriously wheeled about and then into the yel- low torrent he went with the girl behind him, the old beast stumbling over the stones, whereat the girl, unafraid, made sounds of much merriment. across, hale stopped and said courteously: “if you are going up this way, you are quite welcome to ride on. "well, i wasn't crossin' that crick jes' exactly fer fun,” said the girl demurely, and then she murmured something about her cousins and looked back. they had gone down to a shallower ford, , and when they, too, had waded across, they said nothing and the girl said nothing—so hale started on, the two boys following. the mule was slow and, being in a hurry, hale urged him with his whip. every time he struck, the beast would kick up and once the girl came near going off. “you must watch out, when i hit him," said hale. “i don't know when you're goin' to hit him," she drawled unconcernedly. “well, i'll let you know," said hale laughing. “now!” and, as he whacked the beast again, the girl laughed and they were better acquainted. presently they passed two boys. hale was wear- the trail of the lonesome pine ing riding-boots and tight breeches, and one of the boys ran his eyes up boot and leg and if they were lifted higher, hale could not tell. “whar'd you git him ?” he squeaked. the girl turned her head as the mule broke into a trot. “ain't got time to tell. they are my cous- ins,” explained the girl. “what is your name?” asked hale. loretty tolliver.” hale turned in his saddle. “are you the daughter of dave tolliver ?” “yes.” "then you've got a brother named dave?” “yes.” this, then, was the sister of the black- haired boy he had seen in the lonesome cove. “haven't you got some kinfolks over the mountain ?” “yes, i got an uncle livin' over thar. devil judd, folks calls him,” said the girl simply. this girl was cousin to little june in lonesome cove. every now and then she would look behind them, and when hale turned again inquiringly she ex- plained: “i'm worried about my cousins back thar. i'm afeered somethin' mought happen to 'em." “shall we wait for them?" “oh, no—i reckon not.' soon they overtook two men on horseback, and after they passed and were fifty yards ahead of them, one of the men lifted his voice jestingly: the trail of the lonesome pine "is that your woman, stranger, or have you just borrowed her?" hale shouted back: “no, i'm sorry to say, i've just borrowed her,' and he turned to see how she would take this an- swering pleasantry. she was looking down shyly and she did not seem much pleased. "they are kinfolks o’mine, too,” she said, and whether it was in explanation or as a rebuke, hale could not determine. “you must be kin to everybody around here?” "most everybody,” she said simply. by and by they came to a creek. “i have to turn up here,” said hale. “so do i,” she said, smiling now directly at him. “good!” he said, and they went on-hale ask- ing more questions. she was going to school at the county seat the coming winter and she was fifteen years old. “that's right. the trouble in the mountains is that you girls marry so early that you don't have time to get an education.” she wasn't going to marry early, she said, but hale learned now that she had a sweetheart who had been in town that day and apparently the two had had a quarrel. who it was, she would not tell, and hale would have been amazed had he known the sweetheart was none other than young buck falin and that the quarrel between the lovers had sprung from the opening quarrel that day between the clans. the trail of the lonesome pine once again she came near going off the mule, and hale observed that she was holding to the cantel of his saddle. “look here,” he said suddenly, “hadn't you better catch hold of me?” she shook her head vigorously and made two not-to-be-rendered sounds that meant: “no, indeed.” “well, if this were your sweetheart you'd take hold of him, wouldn't you ?" again she gave a vigorous shake of the head. well, if he saw you riding behind me, he wouldn't like it, would he?” “she didn't keer,” she said, but hale did; and when he heard the galloping of horses behind him, saw two men coming, and heard one of them shouting—“hyeh, you man on that yaller mule, stop thar”—he shifted his revolver, pulled in and waited with some uneasiness. they came up, reeling in their saddles—neither one the girl's sweetheart, as he saw at once from her face and began to ask what the girl characterized after- unnecessary questions”: who he was, who she was, and where they were going. hale answered so shortly that the girl thought there was going to be a fight, and she was on the point of slipping from the mule. “sit still,” said hale, quietly. “there's not going to be a fight so long as you are here." “thar hain't!” said one of the men. “well" ward as the trail of the lonesome pine —then he looked sharply at the girl and turned his horse—“come on, bill—that's ole dave tolli- ver's gal.” the girl's face was on fire. “them mean falins!” she said contemptu- ously, and somehow the mere fact that hale had been even for the moment antagonistic to the other faction seemed to put him in the girl's mind at once on her side, and straightway she talked freely of the feud. devil judd had taken no active part in it for a long time, she said, except to keep it down—especially since he and her father had had a “fallin' out" and the two families did not visit much—though she and her cousin june sometimes spent the night with each other. “you won't be able to git over thar till long atter dark,” she said, and she caught her breath so suddenly and so sharply that hale turned to see what the matter was. she searched his face with her black eyes, which were like june's without the depths of june's. “i was just a-wonderin' if mebbe you wasn't the same feller that was over in lonesome last fall.” “maybe i am—my name's hale.” the girl laughed. “well, if this ain't the beatenest! i've heerd june talk about you. my brother dave don't like you overmuch,” she added frankly. “i reckon we'll see dave purty soon. if this ain't the beatenest!” she repeated, and she laughed again, as she always did laugh, it seemed to hale, the trail of the lonesome pine when there was any prospect of getting him into trouble. “you can't git over thar till long atter dark,” she said again presently. “is there any place on the way where i can get to stay all night?” “you can stay all night with the red fox on top of the mountain.” “the red fox,” repeated hale. “yes, he lives right on top of the mountain. you can't miss his house." “oh, yes, i remember him. i saw him talking to one of the falins in town to-day, behind the barn, when i went to get my horse." “you-seed-him-a-talkin'—to a falin afore the trouble come up?" the girl asked slowly and with such significance that hale turned to look at her. he felt straightway that he ought not to have said that, and the day was to come when he would remember it to his cost. he knew how foolish it was for the stranger to show sympathy with, or interest in, one faction or another in a mountain feud, but to give any kind of information of one to the other—that was unwise indeed. ahead of them now, a little stream ran from a ravine across the road. beyond was a cabin; in the doorway were several faces, and sitting on a horse at the gate was young dave tolliver. “well, i git down here,” said the girl, and before his mule stopped she slid from behind him and the trail of the lonesome pine made for the gate without a word of thanks or good-by. “howdye!” said hale, taking in the group with his glance, but leaving his eyes on young dave. the rest nodded, but the boy was too surprised for speech, and the spirit of deviltry took the girl when she saw her brother's face, and at the gate she turned: “much obleeged,” she said. “tell june i'm a-comin' over to see her next sunday.” “i will,” said hale, and he rode on. to his surprise, when he had gone a hundred yards, he heard the boy spurring after him and he looked around inquiringly as young dave drew alongside; but the boy said nothing and hale, amused, kept still, wondering when the lad would open speech. at the mouth of another little creek the boy stopped his horse as though he was to turn up that way. “you've come back agin,” he said, searching hale's face with his black eyes. “yes,” said hale, “i've come back again.” “you goin' over to lonesome cove?" “yes." the boy hesitated, and a sudden change of mind was plain to hale in his face. “i wish you'd tell uncle judd about the trouble in town to-day,” he said, still looking fixedly at hale. “certainly." the trail of the lonesome pine “did you tell the red fox that day you seed him when you was goin' over to the gap last fall that you seed me at uncle judd's?” “no,” said hale. “but how did you know that i saw the red fox that day ?” the boy laughed unpleasantly. "so long,” he said. “see you agin some day.” the way was steep and the sun was down and darkness gathering before hale reached the top of the mountain-so he hallooed at the yard fence of the red fox, who peered cautiously out of the door and asked his name before he came to the gate. and there, with a grin on his curious mis- matched face, he repeated young dave's words: “you've come back agin.” and hale repeated his: “yes, i've come back again.” “you goin' over to lonesome cove?” “yes,” said hale impatiently, “i'm going over to lonesome cove. can i stay here all night ?” 'shore!” said the old man hospitably. “that's a fine hoss you got thar,” he added with a chuckle. “been swappin'?” hale had to laugh climbed down from the bony ear-flopping beast. “i left my horse in town-he's lame.' “yes, i seed you thar.” hale could not resist: “yes, and i seed you.” the old man almost turned. whar?” again the temptation was too great. as he the trail of the lonesome pine "talking to the falin who started the row." this time the red fox wheeled sharply and his pale-blue eyes filled with suspicion. “i keeps friends with both sides,” he said. “ain't many folks can do that.” “i reckon not,” said hale calmly, but in the pale eyes he still saw suspicion. when they entered the cabin, a little old woman in black, dumb and noiseless, was cooking supper. the children of the two, he learned, had scattered, and they lived there alone. on the mantel were two pistols and in one corner was the big win- chester he remembered and behind it was the big brass telescope. on the table was a bible and a volume of swedenborg, and among the usual strings of pepper-pods and beans and twisted long green tobacco were drying herbs and roots of all kinds, and about the fireplace were bottles of liquids that had been stewed from them. the little old woman served, and opened her lips not at all. supper was eaten with no further refer- ence to the doings in town that day, and no word was said about their meeting when hale first went to lonesome cove until they were smoking on the porch. “i heerd you found some mighty fine coal over in lonesome cove." “yes." “young dave tolliver thinks you found some- thin' else thar, too,” chuckled the red fox. the trail of the lonesome pine “most everybody in these mountains has. he's the feller that's always causin' trouble. him and joe falin agreed to go west last fall to end the war. joe joe was killed out thar, and now rufe claims joe don't count now an' he's got the right to come back. soon's he comes back, things git frolicksome agin. he swore he wouldn't go back unless another falin goes too. wirt falin agreed, and that's how they made peace to-day. now rufe says he won't go at all—truce or no truce. my wife in thar is a tolliver, but both sides comes to me and i keeps peace with both of 'em.” no doubt he did, hale thought, keep peace or mischief with or against anybody with that face of his. that was a common type of the bad man, that horseman who had galloped away from the gate—but this old man with his dual face, who preached the word on sundays and on other days was a walking arsenal; who dreamed dreams and had visions and slipped through the hills in his mysterious moccasins on errands of mercy or chasing men from vanity, personal enmity or for fun, and still appeared so sane-he was a type that confounded. no wonder for these reasons and as a tribute to his infernal shrewdness he was known far and wide as the red fox of the mountains. but hale was too tired for further speculation and presently he yawned. “want to lay down ?” asked the old man quickly. “i think i do,” said hale, and they went inside. the trail of the lonesome pine the little old woman had her face to the wall in a bed in one corner and the red fox pointed to a bed in the other: “thar's yo’ bed.” again hale's eyes fell on the big winchester. “i reckon thar hain't more'n two others like it in all these mountains." “what's the calibre ?" biggest made,” was the answer, “a x ." “centre fire ?" “rim,” said the red fox. “gracious,” laughed hale, “what do you want such a big one for ?"" “man cannot live by bread alone—in these mountains," said the red fox grimly. when hale lay down he could hear the old man quavering out a hymn or two on the porch out- side: and when, worn out with the day, he went to sleep, the red fox was reading his bible by the light of a tallow dip. it is fatefully strange when people, whose lives tragically intersect, look back to their first meetings with one another, and hale never forgot that night in the cabin of the red fox. for had bad rufe tolliver, while he whis- pered at the gate, known the part the quiet young man silently seated in the porch would play in his life, he would have shot him where he sat: and could the red fox have known the part his sleep- ing guest was to play in his, the old man would have knifed him where he lay. x hale opened his eyes next morning on the little old woman in black, moving ghost-like through the dim interior to the kitchen. a wood- thrush was singing when he stepped out on the porch and its cool notes had the liquid freshness of the morning. breakfast over, he concluded to leave the yellow mule with the red fox to be taken back to the county town, and to walk down the mountain, but before he got away the land- lord's son turned up with his own horse, still lame, but well enough to limp along without doing him- self harm. so, leading the black horse, hale started down. the sun was rising over still seas of white mist and wave after wave of blue virginia hills. in the shadows below, it smote the mists into tatters; leaf and bush glittered as though after a heavy rain, and down hale went under a trembling dew- drenched world and along a tumbling series of water-falls that flashed through tall ferns, blos- soming laurel and shining leaves of rhododendron. once he heard something move below him and then the crackling of brush sounded far to one side of the road. he knew it was a man who would the trail of the lonesome pine be watching him from a covert and, straightway, to prove his innocence of any hostile or secret pur- pose, he began to whistle. farther below, two men with winchesters rose from the bushes and asked his name and his business. he told both readily. everybody, it seemed, was prepared for hostilities and, though the news of the patched-up peace had spread, it was plain that the factions were still suspicious and on guard. then the loneliness almost of lonesome cove itself set in. for miles he saw nothing alive but an occasional bird and heard no sound but of running water or rustling leaf. at the mouth of the creek his horse's lameness had grown so much better that he mounted him and rode slowly up the river. with- in an hour he could see the still crest of the lone- some pine. at the mouth of a creek a mile farther on was an old gristmill with its water-wheel asleep, and whittling at the door outside was the old mil- ler, uncle billy beams, who, when he heard the coming of the black horse's feet, looked up and showed no surprise at all when he saw hale. “i heard you was comin',” he shouted, hailing him cheerily by name. “ain't fishin' this time!” “no,” said hale, “not this time." “well , git down and rest a spell . june'll be here in a minute an' you can ride back with her. i reckon you air goin' that a-way." " june!” “shore! my, but she'll be glad to see ye! the trail of the lonesome pine she's always talkin' about ye. you told her you was comin' back an' ever'body told her you wasn't: but that leetle gal al’ays said she knowed you was, because you said you was. she's growed some—an' if she ain't purty, well i'd tell a man! you jes' tie yo’hoss up thar behind the mill so she can't see it, an'git inside the mill when she comes round that bend thar. my, but hit'll be a surprise fer her.” the old man chuckled so cheerily that hale, to humour him, hitched his horse to a sapling, came back and sat in the door of the mill. the old man knew all about the trouble in town the day before. “i want to give ye a leetle advice. keep yo' mouth plum’ shut about this here war. i'm jestice of the peace, but that's the only way i've kept outen of it fer thirty years; an'hit's the only way you can keep outen it." “thank you, i mean to keep my mouth shut, but would you mind" "git in!” interrupted the old man eagerly. “hyeh she comes. his kind old face creased into a welcoming smile, and between the logs of the mill hale, inside, could see an old sorrel horse slowly coming through the lights and shadows down the road. on its back was a sack of corn and perched on the sack was a little girl with her bare feet in the hollows behind the old nag's with- she was looking sidewise, quite hidden by a scarlet poke-bonnet, and at the old man's shout > ers. the trail of the lonesome pine with a she turned the smiling face of little june. with an answering cry, she struck the old nag switch and before the old man could rise to help her down, slipped lightly to the ground. “why, honey,” he said, “i don't know whut i'm goin' to do 'bout yo' corn. shaft's broke an' i can't do no grindin' till to-morrow.” “well, uncle billy, we ain't got a pint o' meal in the house,” she said. “you jes' got to lend me some.” “all right, honey,” said the old man, and he cleared his throat as a signal for hale. the little girl was pushing her bonnet back when hale stepped into sight and, unstartled, un- smiling, unspeaking, she looked steadily at him- one hand motionless for a moment on her bronze heap of hair and then slipping down past her cheek to clench the other tightly. uncle billy was bewildered. “why, june, hit’s mr. hale—why - “howdye, june!” said hale, who was no less puzzled-and still she gave no sign that she had ever seen him before except reluctantly to give him her hand. then she turned sullenly away and sat down in the door of the mill with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. dumfounded, the old miller pulled the sack of corn from the horse and leaned it against the mill. then he took out his pipe, filled and lighted it slowly and turned his perplexed eyes to the sun. the trail of the lonesome pine “well, honey,” he said, as though he were do- ing the best he could with a difficult situation, "i'll have to git you that meal at the house. 'bout dinner time now. you an' mr. hale thar come on and git somethin' to eat afore ye go back.” “i got to get on back home,” said june, rising. “no you ain't-i bet you got dinner fer yo' step-mammy afore you left, an' i jes' know you was aimin' to take a snack with me an' ole hon.” the little girl hesitated—she had no denial—and the old fellow smiled kindly. “come on, now." little june walked on the other side of the miller from hale back to the old man's cabin, two hundred yards up the road, answering his ques- tions but not hale’s and never meeting the latter's eyes with her own. “ole hon," the portly old woman whom hale remembered, with brass- rimmed spectacles and a clay pipe in her mouth, came out on the porch and welcomed them heartily under the honeysuckle vines. her mouth and face were alive with humour when she saw hale, and her eyes took in both him and the little girl keenly. the miller and hale leaned chairs against the wall while the girl sat at the entrance of the porch. suddenly hale went out to his horse and took out a package from his saddle- pockets. “i've got some candy in here for you,” he said smiling the trail of the lonesome pine “she'll git ole enough fer him—an' you men- folks don't think less—you jes' talk less.” and she went back into the kitchen, and on the porch the old miller puffed on a new idea in his pipe. for a few minutes the two rode in silence and not yet had june lifted her eyes to him. “you've forgotten me, june." “no, i hain't, nuther.” "you said you'd be waiting for me.” june's lashes went lower still. “i was.” “well, what's the matter? i'm mighty sorry i couldn't get back sooner." "huh!” said june scornfully, and he knew uncle billy in his guess as to the trouble was far afield, and so he tried another tack. “i've been over to the county seat and i saw lots of your kinfolks over there.” she showed no curiosity, no surprise, and still she did not look up at him. “i met your cousin, loretta, over there and i carried her home behind me on an old mule”_ hale paused, smiling at the remembrance-and still she betrayed no interest. “she's a mighty pretty girl, and whenever i'd hit that old “she hain't!”--the words were so shrieked out that hale was bewildered, and then he guessed that the falling out between the fathers was more serious than he had supposed. the trail of the lonesome pine . “but she isn't as nice as you are,” he added quickly, and the girl's quivering mouth steadied, the tears stopped in her vexed dark eyes and she lifted them to him at last. “she ain't?” “no, indeed, she ain't.' for a while they rode along again in silence. june no longer avoided his eyes now, and the unspoken question in her own presently came out: “you won't let uncle rufe bother me no more, will ye?” “no, indeed, i won't,” said hale heartily. “what does he do to you ?” “nothin'—'cept he's always a-teasin' me, an'- an' i'm afeered o' him.” “well, i'll take care of uncle rufe.” “i knowed you'd say that,” she said. “pap and dave always laughs at me,” and she shook her head as though she were already threatening her bad uncle with what hale would do to him, and she was so serious and trustful that hale was curiously touched. by and by he lifted one flap of his saddle-pockets again. “i've got some candy here for a nice little girl," he said, as though the subject had not been men- tioned before. “it's for you. won't you have some?" “i reckon i will,” she said with a happy smile. hale watched her while she munched a striped the trail of the lonesome pine her on the shoulder, but she shrank away from him. ‘go away!” she said, digging her fist into her eyes until her face was calm again. they had reached the spot on the river where he had seen her first, and beyond, the smoke of the cabin was rising above the undergrowth. “lordy!” she said, “but i do git lonesome over hyeh.” “wouldn't you like to go over to the gap with me sometimes ?” straightway her face was a ray of sunlight. “would- i like-to-go-over- she stopped suddenly and pulled in her horse, but hale had heard nothing. “hello!” shouted a voice from the bushes, and devil judd tolliver issued from them with an axe on his shoulder. “i heerd you'd come back an’ i'm glad to see ye.” he came down to the road and shook hale's hand heartily. “whut you been cryin' about?” he added, turning his hawk-like eyes on the little girl. “nothin',” she said sullenly. “did she git mad with ye 'bout somethin'?” said the old man to hale. “she never cries 'cept when she's mad.” hale laughed. “you jes' hush up—both of ye,” said the girl with a sharp kick of her right foot. “i reckon you can't stamp the ground that fer away from it," said the old man dryly. "if you the trail of the lonesome pine don't git the better of that all-fired temper o' yourn hit's goin' to git the better of you, an' then i'll have to spank you agin.” "i reckon you ain't goin' to whoop me no more, pap. i'm a-gittin' too big." the old man opened eyes and mouth with an indulgent roar of laughter. “come on up to the house,” he said to hale, turning to lead the way, the little girl following him. the old step-mother was again a-bed; small bub, the brother, still unafraid, sat down beside hale and the old man brought out a bottle of moonshine. “i reckon i can still trust ye,” he said. “i reckon you can,” laughed hale. the liquor was as fiery as ever, but it was grate- ful, and again the old man took nearly a tumbler full plying hale, meanwhile, about the happen- ings in town the day before—but hale could tell him nothing that he seemed not already to know. “it was quar,” the old mountaineer said. “i've seed two men with the drap on each other and both afeerd to shoot, but i never heerd of sech a ring-around-the-rosy as eight fellers with bead on one another and not a shoot shot. i'm glad i wasn't thar." he frowned when hale spoke of the red fox. “you can't never tell whether that ole devil is fer ye or agin ye, but i've been plum' sick o' these the trail of the lonesome pine doin's a long time now and sometimes i think i'll just pull up stakes and go west and git out of hit -altogether.” “how did you learn so much about yesterday- so soon?” “oh, we hears things purty quick in these mountains. little dave tolliver come over here last night.” “yes," broke in bub, “and he tol' us how you carried loretty from town on a mule be- hind ye, and she jest a-sassin' you, an' as how she said she was a-goin' to git you fer her sweet- heart.” hale glanced by chance at the little girl. her face was scarlet, and a light dawned. “an' sis, thar, said he was a-tellin' lies—an' when she growed up she said she was a-goin' to marry- something snapped like a toy-pistol and bub howled. a little brown hand had whacked him across the mouth, and the girl flashed indoors without a word. bub got to his feet howling with pain and rage and started after her, but the old man caught him: “set down, boy! sarved you right fer blabbin' things that hain't yo’ business." he shook with laughter. jealousy! great heavens-hale thought-in that child, and for him! “i knowed she was cryin' 'bout something like the trail of the lonesome pine that. she sets a great store by you, an’ she's studied them books you sent her plum' to pieces while you was away. she ain't nothin' but a baby, but in sartain ways she's as old as her mother was when she died.” the amazing secret was out, and the little girl appeared no more until supper time, when she waited on the table, but at no time would she look at hale or speak to him again. for a while the two men sat on the porch talking of the feud and the gap and the coal on the old man's place, and hale had no trouble get- ting an option for a year on the old man's land. just as dusk was setting he got his horse. “you'd better stay all night.” “no, i'll have to get along. the little girl did not appear to tell him good- by, and when he went to his horse at the gate, he called: “tell june to come down here. i've got some- thing for her.” “go on, baby,” the old man said, and the little girl came shyly down to the gate. hale took a brown-paper parcel from his saddle-bags, un- wrapped it and betrayed the usual blue-eyed, flaxen-haired, rosy-cheeked doll. only june did not know the like of it was in all the world. and as she caught it to her breast there were tears once more in her uplifted eyes. “how about going over to the gap with me, little girl—some day?" the trail of the lonesome pine he never guessed it, but there were a child and a woman before him now and both answered: “i'll go with ye anywhar.” hale stopped a while to rest his horse at the base of the big pine. he was practically alone in the world. the little girl back there was born for something else than slow death in that god-for- saken cove, and whatever it was—why not help her to it if he could ? with this thought in his brain, he rode down from the luminous upper world of the moon and stars toward the nether world of drifting mists and black ravines. she belonged to just such a night—that little girl- she was a part of its mists, its lights and shadows, its fresh wild beauty and its mystery. only once did his mind shift from her to his great purpose, and that was when the roar of the water through the rocky chasm of the gap made him think of the roar of iron wheels, that, rushing through, some day, would drown it into silence. at the mouth of the gap he saw the white valley lying at peace in the moonlight and straightway from it sprang again, as always, his castle in the air; but before he fell asleep in his cottage on the edge of the millpond that night he heard quite plainly again: “i'll go with ye—anywhar.” xi spring was coming: and, meanwhile, that late autumn and short winter, things went merrily on at the gap in some ways, and in some ways-not. within eight miles of the place, for instance, the man fell ill—the man who was to take up hale's options—and he had to be taken home. still hale was undaunted: here he was and here he would stay—and he would try again. two other young men, bluegrass kentuckians, logan and mac- farlan, had settled at the gap-both lawyers and both of pioneer, indian-fighting blood. the re- port of the state geologist had been spread broad- cast. a famous magazine writer had come through on horseback and had gone home and given a fer- vid account of the riches and the beauty of the region. helmeted englishmen began to prowl prospectively around the gap sixty miles to the southwest. new surveying parties were direct- ing lines for the rocky gateway between the iron ore and the coal. engineers and coal ex- perts passed in and out. there were rumours of a furnace and a steel plant when the railroad should reach the place. capital had flowed in from the east, and already a pennsylvanian was starting the trail of the lonesome pine a main entry into a ten-foot vein of coal up through the gap and was coking it. his report was that his own was better than the connellsville coke, which was the standard: it was higher in carbon and lower in ash. the ludlow brothers, from east- ern virginia, had started a general store. two of the berkley brothers had come over from blue- grass kentucky and their family was coming in the spring. the bearded senator up the valley, who was also a preacher, had got his methodist brethren interested and the community was fur- ther enriched by the coming of the hon. samuel budd, lawyer and budding statesman. as a recre- ation, the hon. sam was an anthropologist: he knew the mountaineers from virginia to alabama and they were his pet illustrations of his pet theo- ries of the effect of a mountain environment on human life and character. hale took a great fancy to him from the first moment he saw his smooth, ageless, kindly face, surmounted by a huge pair of spectacles that were hooked behind two large ears, above which his pale yellow hair, parted in the middle, was drawn back with plaster-like preci- sion. a mayor and a constable had been appoint- ed, and the hon. sam had just finished his first case-squire morton and the widow crane, who ran a boarding-house, each having laid claim to three pigs that obstructed traffic in the town. the hon. sam was sitting by the stove, deep in thought, when hale came into the hotel and he lifted his the trail of the lonesome pine great glaring lenses and waited for no intro- duction: “brother,” he said, “ do you know twelve reliable witnesses come on the stand and swore them pigs be- longed to the squire's sow, and twelve equally reliable witnesses swore them pigs belonged to the widow crane’s sow? i shorely was a heap perplexed.” “that was curious. the hon. sam laughed: “well, sir, them intelligent pigs used both them sows as mothers, and may be they had another mother somewhere else. they would breakfast with the widow crane's sow and take supper with the squire's sow. and so them witnesses, too, was naturally perplexed.” hale waited while the hon. sam puffed his pipe into a glow: "believin', as i do, that the most important principle in law is mutually forgivin' and a square division o’spoils, i suggested a compromise. the widow said the squire was an old rascal an' thief and he'd never sink a tooth into one of them shoats, but that her lawyer was a gentleman- meanin' me—and the squire said the widow had been blackguardin' him all over town and he'd see her in heaven before she got one, but that his law- yer was a prince of the realm: so the other lawyer took one and i got the other.” “what became of the third ?” the hon. sam was an ardent disciple of sir walter scott: the trail of the lonesome pine "well, just now the mayor is a-playin' gurth to that little runt for costs.' outside, the wheels of the stage rattled, and as half a dozen strangers trooped in, the hon. sam waved his hand: “things is comin'.” things were coming. the following week “the booming editor” brought in a printing-press and started a paper. an enterprising hoosier soon established a brick-plant. a geologist—hale's predecessor in lonesome cove-made the gap his headquarters, and one by one the vanguard of engineers, surveyors, speculators and coalmen drifted in. the wings of progress began to sprout, but the new town-constable soon tendered his res- ignation with informality and violence. he had arrested a falin, whose companions straightway took him from custody and set him free. straight- way the constable threw his pistol and badge of office to the ground. “i've fit an' i've hollered fer help,” he shouted, almost crying with rage, “an' i've fit agin. now this town can go to hell”: and he picked up his pistol but left his symbol of law and order in the dust. next morning there was a new constable, and only that afternoon when hale stepped into the ludlow brothers' store he found the constable already busy. a line of men with revolver or knife in sight was drawn up inside with their backs to hale, and beyond them he could see the new constable with a man under arrest. hale had not the trail of the lonesome pine forgotten his promise to himself and he began now: “come on,” he called quietly, and when the men turned at the sound of his voice, the con- stable, who was of sterner stuff than his prede- cessor, pushed through them, dragging his man after him. “look here, boys,” said hale calmly. “let's not have any row. let him go to the mayor's office. if he isn't guilty, the mayor will let him go. if he is, the mayor will give him bond. i'll go on it myself. but let's not have a row." now, to the mountain eye, hale appeared no more than the ordinary man, and even a close observer would have seen no more than that his face was clean-cut and thoughtful, that his eye was blue and singularly clear and fearless, and that he was calm with a calmness that might come from anything else than stolidity of temperament —and that, by the way, is the self-control which counts most against the unruly passions of other men—but anybody near hale, at a time when ex- citement was high and a crisis was imminent, would have felt the resultant of forces emanating from him that were beyond analysis. and so it was now—the curious power he instinctively had over rough men had its way. "go on,” he continued quietly, and the con- stable went on with his prisoner, his friends fol- lowing, still swearing and with their weapons in the trail of the lonesome pine their hands. when constable and prisoner passed into the mayor's office, hale stepped quickly after them and turned on the threshold with his arm across the door. “hold on, boys,” he said, still good-naturedly. “the mayor can attend to this. if you boys want to fight anybody, fight me. i'm unarmed and you can whip me easily enough,” he added with a laugh, “but you mustn't come in here,” he con- cluded, as though the matter was settled beyond further discussion. for one instant—the crucial one, of course—the men hesitated, for the reason that so often makes superior numbers of no avail among the lawless—the lack of a leader of nerve- and without another word hale held the door. but the frightened mayor inside let the prisoner out at once on bond and hale, combining law and diplomacy, went on the bond. only a day or two later the mountaineers, who worked at the brick-plant with pistols buckled around them, went on a strike and, that night, shot out the lights and punctured the chromos in their boarding-house. then, armed with sticks, knives, clubs and pistols, they took a triumphant march through town. that night two knives and two pistols were whipped out by two of them in the same store. one of the ludlows promptly blew out the light and astutely got under the counter. when the combatants scrambled outside, he locked the door and crawled out the back window. the trail of the lonesome pine next morning the brick-yard malcontents marched triumphantly again and hale called for volunteers to arrest them. to his disgust only logan, mac- farlan, the hon. sam budd, and two or three others seemed willing to go, but when the few who would go started, hale, leading them, looked back and the whole town seemed to be strung out after him. below the hill, he saw the mountaineers drawn up in two bodies for battle and, as he led his followers towards them, the hoosier owner of the plant rode out at a gallop, waving his hands and apparently beside himself with anxiety and terror. "don't,” he shouted; "somebody'll get killed. wait—they'll give up.” so hale halted and the hoosier rode back. after a short parley he came back to hale to say that the strikers would give up, but when logan started again, they broke and ran, and only three or four were captured. the hoo- sier was delirious over his troubles and straight- way closed his plant. “ see,” said hale in disgust. “we've got to do something now.” “we have,” said the lawyers, and that night on hale’s porch, the three, with the hon. sam budd, pondered the problem. they could not build a town without law and order—they could not have law and order without taking part themselves, and even then they plainly would have their hands full. and so, that night, on the tiny porch of the the trail of the lonesome pine little cottage that was hale's sleeping-room and office, with the creaking of the one wheel of their one industry—the old grist-mill-making patient music through the rhododendron-darkness that hid the steep bank of the stream, the three pio- neers forged their plan. there had been gentlemen- regulators a plenty, vigilance committees of gen- tlemen, and the ku-klux clan had been originally composed of gentlemen, as they all knew, but they meant to hew to the strict line of town- ordinance and common law and do the rough every- day work of the common policeman. so volunteer policemen they would be and, in order to extend their authority as much as possible, as county policemen they would be enrolled. each man would purchase his own winchester, pistol, billy, badge and a whistle—to call for help—and they would begin drilling and target-shooting at once. the hon. sam shook his head dubiously: “the natives won't understand.” “we can't help that,” said hale. “i know—i'm with you.” hale was made captain, logan first lieutenant, macfarlan second, and the hon. sam third. two rules, logan, who, too, knew the mountaineer well, suggested as inflexible. one was never to draw a pistol at all unless necessary, never to pre- tend to draw as a threat or to intimidate, and never to draw unless one meant to shoot, if need be. “and the other," added logan, “always go in the trail of the lonesome pine force to make an arrest-never alone unless neces- sary.” the hon. sam moved his head up and down in hearty approval. “why is that?" asked hale. “to save bloodshed,” he said. “these fellows we will have to deal with have a pride that is mor- bid. a mountaineer doesn't like to go home and have to say that one man put him in the calaboose --but he doesn't mind telling that it took several to arrest him. moreover, he will give in to two or three men, when he would look on the coming of one man as a personal issue and to be met as such.” hale nodded. “oh, there'll be plenty of chances,” logan added with a smile, "for everyone to go it alone." again the hon. sam nodded grimly. it was plain to him that they would have all they could do, but no one of them dreamed of the far-reaching effect that night's work would bring. they were the vanguard of civilization—"cru- saders of the nineteenth century against the be- nighted of the middle ages,” said the hon. sam, and when logan and macfarlan left, he lingered and lit his pipe. “the trouble will be,” he said slowly, “that they won't understand our purpose or our meth- ods. they will look on us as a lot of meddlesome ‘furriners' who have come in to run their country as we please, when they have been running it as the trail of the lonesome pine they please for more than a hundred years. you see, you mustn't judge them by the standards of to-day-you must go back to the standards of the revolution. practically, they are the pioneers of that day and hardly a bit have they advanced. they are our contemporary ancestors. " and then the hon. sam, having dropped his vernacular, lounged ponderously into what he was pleased to call his anthropological drool. “you see, mountains isolate people and the effect of isolation on human life is to crystallize it. those people over the line have had no navigable rivers, no lakes, no wagon roads, except often the beds of streams. they have been cut off from all communication with the outside world. they are a perfect example of an arrested civilization and they are the closest link we have with the old world. they were unionists because of the revo- lution, as they were americans in the beginning because of the spirit of the covenanter. they live like the pioneers; the axe and the rifle are still their weapons and they still have the same fight with nature. this feud business is a matter of clan-loyalty that goes back to scotland. they ar- gue this way: you are my friend or my kinsman, your quarrel is my quarrel, and whoever hits you hits me. if you are in trouble, i must not testify against you. if you are an officer, you must not arrest me; you must send me a kindly request to come into court. if i'm innocent and it's per- the trail of the lonesome pine fectly convenient—why, maybe i'll come. yes, we're the vanguard of civilization, all right, all right-but i opine we're goin' to have a hell of a merry time.” hale laughed, but he was to remember those words of the hon. samuel budd. other members of that vanguard began to drift in now by twos and threes from the bluegrass region of kentucky and from the tide-water country of virginia and from new england—strong, bold young men with the spirit of the pioneer and the birth, breeding and education of gentlemen, and the war between civilization and a lawlessness that was the result of isolation, and consequent ignorance and idleness started in earnest. “a remarkable array,” murmured the hon. sam, when he took an inventory one night with hale. “i'm proud to be among 'em.” many times hale went over to lonesome cove and with every visit his interest grew steadily in the little girl and in the curious people over there, until he actually began to believe in the hon. sam budd's anthropological theories. in the cabin on lonesome cove was a crane swinging in the big stone fireplace, and he saw the old step-mother and june putting the spinning wheel and the loom to actual use. sometimes he found a cabin of un- hewn logs with a puncheon floor, clapboards for shingles and wooden pin and auger holes for nails; a batten wooden shutter, the logs filled with the trail of the lonesome pine mud and stones and holes in the roof for the wind and the rain. over a pair of buck antlers some- times lay the long heavy home-made rifle of the backwoodsman-sometimes even with a flintlock and called by some pet feminine name. once he saw the hominy block that the mountaineers had borrowed from the indians, and once a handmill like the one from which the one woman was taken and the other left in biblical days. he struck communities where the medium of exchange was still barter, and he found mountaineers drinking metheglin still as well as moonshine. moreover, there were still log-rollings, house-warmings, corn- shuckings, and quilting parties, and sports were the same as in pioneer days—wrestling, racing, jumping, and lifting barrels. often he saw a cradle of bee- gum, and old judd had in his house a fox-horn made of hickory bark which even june could blow. he ran across old-world superstitions, too, and met one seventh son of a seventh son who cured chil- dren of rash by blowing into their mouths. and he got june to singing transatlantic songs, after old judd said one day that she knowed the "mis- erablest song he'd ever heerd”—meaning the most sorrowful. and, thereupon, with quaint sim- plicity, june put her heels on the rung of her chair, and with her elbows on her knees, and her chin on both bent thumbs, sang him the oldest version of “barbara allen" in a voice that startled hale by its power and sweetness. she knew lots the trail of the lonesome pine more “song-ballets," she said shyly, and the old man had her sing some songs that were rather rude, but were as innocent as hymns from her lips. everywhere he found unlimited hospitality. “take out, stranger,” said one old fellow, when there was nothing on the table but some bread and a few potatoes, “have a tater. take two of 'em- take damn nigh all of 'em.” moreover, their pride was morbid, and they were very religious. indeed, they used religion to cloak their deviltry, as honestly as it was ever used in history. he had heard old judd say once, when he was speaking of the feud: “well, i've al'ays laid out my enemies. the lord's been on my side an' i gits a better chris- tian every year. always hale took some children's book for june when he went to lonesome cove, and she rarely failed to know it almost by heart when he went again. she was so intelligent that he began to wonder if, in her case, at least, another of the hon. sam's theories might not be true—that the mountaineers were of the same class as the other westward-sweeping emigrants of more than a century before, that they had simply lain dormant in the hills and—a century counting for nothing in the matter of inheritance—that their possibilities were little changed, and that the children of that day would, if given the chance, wipe out the handi- the trail of the lonesome pine cap of a century in one generation and take their place abreast with children of the outside world. the tollivers were of good blood; they had come from eastern virginia, and the original tolliver had been a slave-owner. the very name was, un- doubtedly, a corruption of tagliaferro. so, when the widow crane began to build a brick house for her boarders that winter, and the foundations of a school-house were laid at the gap, hale began to plead with old judd to allow june to go over to the gap and go to school, but the old man was firm in refusal: “he couldn't git along without her,” he said; "he was afeerd he'd lose her, an' he reckoned june was a-larnin' enough without goin' to school-she was a-studyin' them leetle books o'hers so hard." but as his confidence in hale grew and as hale stated his intention to take an option on the old man's coal lands, he could see that devil judd, though his answer never varied, was considering the question seriously. through the winter, then, hale made occasional trips to lonesome cove and bided his time. often he met young dave tolliver there, but the boy usually left when hale came, and if hale was al- ready there, he kept outside the house, until the engineer was gone. knowing nothing of the ethics of courtship in the mountains—how, when two men meet at the same girl's house, “they makes the gal say which ioi the trail of the lonesome pine one she likes best and t'other one gits”—hale little dreamed that the first time dave stalked out of the room, he threw his hat in the grass behind the big chimney and executed a war-dance on it, cursing the blankety-blank “furriner" within from dan to beersheba. indeed, he never suspected the fierce depths of the boy's jealousy at all, and he would have laughed incredulously, if he had been told how, time after time as he climbed the mountain home- ward, the boy's black eyes burned from the bushes on him, while his hand twitched at his pistol-butt and his lips worked with noiseless threats. for dave had to keep his heart-burnings to himself or he would have been laughed at through all the mountains, and not only by his own family, but by june's; so he, too, bided his time. in late february, old buck falin and old dave tolliver shot each other down in the road and the red fox, who hated both and whom each thought was his friend, dressed the wounds of both with equal care. the temporary lull of peace that bad rufe's absence in the west had brought about, gave way to a threatening storm then, and then it was that old judd gave his consent: when the roads got better, june could go to the gap to school. a month later the old man sent word that he did not want june in the mountains while the trouble was going on, and that hale could come over for her when he pleased: and hale sent word the trail of the lonesome pine back that within three days he would meet the father and the little girl at the big pine. that last day at home june passed in a dream. she went through her daily tasks in a dream and she hardly noticed young dave when he came in at mid-day, and dave, when he heard the news, left in sullen silence. in the afternoon she went down to the mill to tell uncle billy and ole hon good-by and the three sat in the porch a long time and with few words. ole hon had been to the gap once, but there was “so much bustle over thar it made her head ache.” uncle billy shook his head doubtfully over june's going, and the two old people stood at the gate looking long after the little girl when she went homeward up the road. be- fore supper june slipped up to her little hiding- place at the pool and sat on the old log saying good-by to the comforting spirit that always brooded for her there, and, when she stood on the porch at sunset, a new spirit was coming on the wings of the south wind. hale felt it as he stepped into the soft night air; he heard it in the piping of frogs—“marsh-birds,” as he always called them; he could almost see it in the flying clouds and the moonlight and even the bare trees seemed tremu- lously expectant. an indefinable happiness seemed to pervade the whole earth and hale stretched his arms lazily. over in lonesome cove little june felt it more keenly than ever in her life before. she did not want to go to bed that the trail of the lonesome pine night, and when the others were asleep she slipped out to the porch and sat on the steps, her eyes luminous and her face wistful-looking towards the big pine which pointed the way towards the far silence into which she was going at last. xii june did not have to be awakened that morn- ing. at the first clarion call of the old rooster behind the cabin, her eyes opened wide and a happy thrill tingled her from head to foot-why, she didn't at first quite realize—and then she stretched her slender round arms to full length above her head and with a little squeal of joy bounded out of the bed, dressed as she was when she went into it, and with no changes to make ex- cept to push back her tangled hair. her father was out feeding the stock and she could hear her step-mother in the kitchen. bub still slept soundly, and she shook him by the shoulder. “git up, bub." “go 'way," said bub fretfully. again she started to shake him but stopped-bub wasn't going to the gap, so she let him sleep. for a little while she looked down at him—at his round rosy face and his frowsy hair from under which pro- truded one dirty fist. she was going to leave him, and a fresh tenderness for him made her breast heave, but she did not kiss him, for sisterly kisses are hardly known in the hills. then she went out into the kitchen to help her step-mother. the trail of the lonesome pine > "gittin' mighty busy, all of a sudden, ain't ye,” said the sour old woman, “now that ye air goin' away “'tain't costin' you nothin',” answered june quietly, and she picked up a pail and went out into the frosty, shivering daybreak to the old well. the chain froze her fingers, the cold water splashed her feet, and when she had tugged her heavy burden back to the kitchen, she held her red, chapped hands to the fire. “i reckon you'll be mighty glad to git shet o me.” the old woman sniffled, and june looked around with a start. “pears like i'm goin' to miss ye right smart,” she quavered, and june's face coloured with a new feeling towards her step-mother. “i'm goin' ter have a hard time doin' all the work and me so poorly.” “lorrety is a-comin' over to he'p ye, if ye git sick,” said june, hardening again. “or, i'll come back myself.” she got out the dishes and set them on the table. “you an' me don't git along very well to- gether," she went on placidly. “i never heerd o' no step-mother and children as did, an' i reckon you'll be might glad to git shet o' me.” “pears like i'm going to miss ye a right smart,” repeated the old woman weakly. june went out to the stable with the milking pail. her father had spread fodder for the cow the trail of the lonesome pine and she could hear the rasping of the ears of corn against each other as he tumbled them into the trough for the old sorrel. she put her head against the cow's soft flank and under her sinewy fingers two streams of milk struck the bottom of the tin pail with such thumping loudness that she did not hear her father's step; but when she rose to make the beast put back her right leg, she saw him looking at her. “who's goin' ter milk, pap, atter i'm gone?” “this the fust time you thought o' that?" june put her flushed cheek back to the flank of the cow. it was not the first time she had thought of that-her step-mother would milk and if she were ill, her father or loretta. she had not meant to ask that question—she was wondering when they would start. that was what she meant to ask and she was glad that she had swerved. break- fast was eaten in the usual silence by the boy and the man-june and the step-mother serving it, and waiting on the lord that was and the lord that was to be—and then the two females sat down. “hurry up, june," said the old man, wiping his mouth and beard with the back of his hand. “clear away the dishes an' git ready. hale said he would meet us at the pine an' hour by sun, fer i told him i had to git back to work. hurry up, now!” june hurried up. she was too excited to eat anything, so she began to wash the dishes while the trail of the lonesome pine her step-mother ate. then she went into the living-room to pack her things and it didn't take long. she wrapped the doll hale had given her in an extra petticoat, wound one pair of yarn stock- ings around a pair of coarse shoes, tied them up into one bundle and she was ready. her father appeared with the sorrel horse, caught up his saddle from the porch, threw it on and stretched the blanket behind it as a pillion for june to ride on. “let's go!” he said. there is little or no demonstrativeness in the domestic relations of mountaineers. the kiss of courtship is the only one known. there were no good-bys-only that short “let's go!” june sprang behind her father from the porch. the step-mother handed her the bundle which she clutched in her lap, and they simply rode away, the step-mother and bub silently gazing after them. but june saw the boy's mouth work- ing, and when she turned the thicket at the creek, she looked back at the two quiet figures, and a keen pain cut her heart. she shut her mouth closely, gripped her bundle more tightly and the tears streamed down her face, but the man did not know. they climbed in silence. sometimes her father dismounted where the path was steep, but june sat on the horse to hold the bundle and thus they mounted through the mist and chill of the morning. a shout greeted them from the top of the little spur whence the big pine was visible, the trail of the lonesome pine and up there they found hale waiting. he had reached the pine earlier than they and was coming down to meet them. “hello, little girl," called hale cheerily, “you didn't fail me, did you ?” june shook her head and smiled. her face was blue and her little legs, dangling under the bundle, were shrinking from the cold. her bonnet had fallen to the back of her neck, and he saw that her hair was parted and gathered in a psyche knot at the back of her head, giving her a quaint old look when she stood on the ground in her crimson gown. hale had not forgotten a pillion and there the transfer was made. hale lifted her behind his saddle and handed up her bundle. "i'll take good care of her,” he said. “all right,” said the old man. “and i'm coming over soon to fix up that coal matter, and i'll let you know how she's getting on.” “all right.” "good-by,” said hale. “i wish ye well,” said the mountaineer. “be a good girl, juny, and do what mr. hale thar tells ye.” “all right, pap. ” and thus they parted. june felt the power of hale's big black horse with ex- ultation the moment he started. “now we're off,” said hale gayly, and he patted the little hand that was about his waist. “give me that bundle.” the trail of the lonesome pine “i can carry it.” “no, you can't-not with me," and when he reached around for it and put it on the cantle of his saddle, june thrust her left hand into his over- coat pocket and hale laughed. “loretta wouldn't ride with me this way.” “loretty ain't got much sense,” drawled june complacently. “'tain't no harm. but don't you tell me! i don't want to hear nothin' 'bout lo- retty noway.” again hale laughed and june laughed, too. imp that she was, she was just pre- tending to be jealous now. she could see the big pine over his shoulder. “i've knowed that tree since i was a little girl — since i was a baby,” she said, and the tone of her voice was new to hale. “sister sally uster tell me lots about that ole tree.” hale waited, but she stopped again. “what did she tell you ?” “she used to say hit was curious that hit should be 'way up here all alone—that she reckollected it ever since she was a baby, and she used to come up here and talk to it, and she said sometimes she could hear it jus' a whisperin' to her when she was down home in the cove.' “what did she say it said ?” “she said it was always a-whisperin' 'come- come—come!”” june crooned the words, “an' atter she died, i heerd the folks sayin' as how she riz up in bed with her eyes right wide an’ sayin' iio the trail of the lonesome pine 'i hears it! it's a-whisperin'—i hears it-come- come-come'!” and still hale kept quiet when she stopped again. “the red fox said hit was the sperits, but i knowed when they told me that she was a thinkin' o' that ole tree thar. but i never let on. i reckon that's one reason made me come here that day.' they were close to the big tree now and hale dis- mounted to fix his girth for the descent. “well, i'm mighty glad you came, little girl. i might never have seen you.” “that's so,” said june. “i saw the print of your foot in the mud right there." “did ye?” “and if i hadn't, i might never have gone down into lonesome cove.” june laughed. “you ran from me,” hale went on. “yes, i did: an' that's why you follered me.” hale looked up quickly. her face was demure, but her eyes danced. she was an aged little thing. "why did you run ?" "i thought yo’ fishin' pole was a rifle-gun an' that you was a raider.” hale laughed—“i see.” “'member when you let yo’ horse drink?” hale nodded. “well, i was on a rock above the creek, lookin' down at ye. an' i seed ye catchin' minners an' thought you was goin' up the crick lookin' fer a still." “weren't you afraid of me then?" iii the trail of the lonesome pine “huh!” she said contemptuously. “i wasn't afeared of you at all, 'cept fer what you mought find out. you couldn't do no harm to nobody without a gun, and i knowed thar wasn't no still up that crick. i know, i knowed whar it was.” hale noticed the quick change of tense. “won't you take me to see it some time?" “no!” she said shortly, and hale knew he had made a mistake. it was too steep for both to ride now, so he tied the bundle to the cantle with leath- ern strings and started leading the horse. june pointed to the edge of the cliff. “i was a-layin' flat right thar and i seed you comin' down thar. my, but you looked funny to me! you don't now,” she added hastily. “you look mighty nice to me now- -!” “you're a little rascal,” said hale, “that's what you are.” the little girl bubbled with laughter and then she grew mock-serious. “no, i ain't.” “yes, you are,” he repeated, shaking his head, and both were silent for a while. june was going to begin her education now and it was just as well for him to begin with it now. so he started vaguely when he was mounted again: * june, you thought my clothes were funny when you first saw them didn't —you?” "uh, huh!” said june. “but you like them now?” "uh, huh!” she crooned again. ii the trail of the lonesome pine “well, some people who weren't used to clothes that people wear over in the mountains might think them funny for the same reason-mightn't they ?” june was silent for a moment. "well, mebbe, i like your clothes better, because i like you better,” she said, and hale laughed. “well, it's just the same—the way people in the mountains dress and talk is different from the way people outside dress and talk. it doesn't make much difference about clothes, though, i guess you will want to be as much like people over here as you can “i don't know,” interrupted the little girl shortly, “i ain't seed 'em yit.” "well,” laughed hale, "you will want to talk like them anyhow, because everybody who is learning tries to talk the same way.” june was silent, and hale plunged unconsciously on. “up at the pine now you said, 'i seed you when i was a-layin' on the edge of the cliff'; now you ought to have said, 'i saw you when i was ly- ing- “i wasn't,” she said sharply, “i don't tell lies—” her hand shot from his waist and she slid suddenly to the ground. he pulled in his horse and turned a bewildered face. she had lighted on her feet and was poised back above him like an enraged eaglet—her thin nostrils quivering, her mouth as tight as a bow-string, and her eyes two points of fire. the trail of the lonesome pine why- june!” “ef you don't like my clothes an' the way i talk, i reckon i'd better go back home.” with a groan hale tumbled from his horse. fool that he was, he had forgotten the sensitive pride of the mountaineer, even while he was thinking of that pride. he knew that fun might be made of her speech and her garb by her schoolmates over at the gap, and he was trying to prepare her—to save her mortification, to make her understand. “why, june, little girl, i didn't mean to hurt your feelings. you don't understand—you can't now, but you will. trust me, won't you? i like you just as you are. i love the way you talk. but other people—forgive me, won't you?” he pleaded. “i'm sorry. i wouldn't hurt you for the world.” she didn't understand—she hardly heard what he said, but she did know his distress was genuine and his sorrow: and his voice melted her fierce little heart. the tears began to come, while she looked, and when he put his arms about her, she put her face on his breast and sobbed. “there now!” he said soothingly. “it's all right now. i'm so sorry—so very sorry,” and he patted her on the shoulder and laid his hand across her temple and hair, and pressed her head tight to his breast. almost as suddenly she stopped sob- bing and loosening herself turned away from him. “i'm a fool-that's what i am,” she said hotly. the trail of the lonesome pine “no, you aren't! come on, little girl! we're friends again, aren't we?” june was digging at her eyes with both hands. “aren't we?" “yes,” she said with an angry little catch of her breath, and she turned submissively to let him lift her to her seat. then she looked down into his face. "jack," she said, and he started again at the frank address, “i ain't never goin' to do that no more. » she “yes, you are, little girl," he said soberly but cheerily. “you're goin' to do it whenever i'm wrong or whenever you think i'm wrong. shook her head seriously. “no, jack.” in a few minutes they were at the foot of the mountain and on a level road. “hold tight!” hale shouted, “i'm going to let him out now.” at the touch of his spur, the big black horse sprang into a gallop, faster and faster, until he was pounding the hard road in a swift run like thunder. at the creek hale pulled in and looked around. june's bonnet was down, her hair was tossed, her eyes were sparkling fearlessly, and her face was flushed with joy. “like it, june?” “i never did know nothing like it." “you weren't scared ?” “skeered o' what?” she asked, and hale won- the trail of the lonesome pine dered if there was anything of which she would be afraid. they were entering the gap now and june's eyes got big with wonder over the mighty up-shooting peaks and the rushing torrent. “see that big rock yonder, june?” june craned her neck to follow with her eyes his out- stretched finger. "uh, huh.” “well, that's called bee rock, because it's cov- ered with flowers—purple rhododendrons and laurel—and bears used to go there for wild honey. they say that once on a time folks around here put whiskey in the honey and the bears got so drunk that people came and knocked 'em in the head with clubs." “well, what do you think o' that!” said june wonderingly. before them a big mountain loomed, and a few minutes later, at the mouth of the gap, hale stopped and turned his horse sidewise. “there we are, june,” he said. . june saw the lovely little valley rimmed with big mountains. she could follow the course of the two rivers that encircled it by the trees that fringed their banks, and she saw smoke rising here and there and that was all. she was a little disappointed. “it's mighty purty,” she said, “i never seed” -she paused, but went on without correcting her- self—“so much level land in all my life.” the trail of the lonesome pine the morning mail had just come in as they rode by the post-office and several men hailed her escort, and all stared with some wonder at her. hale smiled to himself, drew up for none and put on a face of utter unconsciousness that he was do- ing anything unusual. june felt vaguely uncom- fortable. ahead of them, when they turned the corner of the street, her eyes fell on a strange tall red house with yellow trimmings, that was not built of wood and had two sets of windows one above the other, and before that hale drew up. “here we are. get down, little girl.” “good-morning!” said a voice. hale looked around and flushed, and june looked around and stared-transfixed as by a vision from another world—at the dainty figure behind them in a walk- ing suit, a short skirt that showed two little feet in laced tan boots and a cap with a plume, under which was a pair of wide blue eyes with long lashes, and a mouth that suggested active mischief and gentle mockery. / “oh, good-morning,” said hale, and he added gently, “get down, june!” the little girl slipped to the ground and began pulling her bonnet on with both hands—but the newcomer had caught sight of the psyche knot that made june look like a little old woman strangely young, and the mockery at her lips was gently accentuated by a smile. hale swung from his saddle. the trail of the lonesome pine “this is the little girl i told you about, miss anne,” he said. “she's come over to go to school.” instantly, almost, miss anne had been melted by the forlorn looking little creature who stood before her, shy for the moment and dumb, and she came forward with her gloved hand out- stretched. but june had seen that smile. she gave her hand, and miss anne straightway was no little surprised; there was no more shyness in the dark eyes that blazed from the recesses of the sun- bonnet, and miss anne was so startled when she looked into them that all she could say was: “dear me!” a portly woman with a kind face appeared at the door of the red brick house and came to the gate. “here she is, mrs. crane," called hale. “howdye, june!" said the widow crane kindly. “come right in!” in her june knew straightway she had a friend and she picked up her bundle and followed upstairs—the first real stairs she had ever seen and into a room on the floor of which was a rag carpet. there was a bed in one corner with a white counterpane and a washstand with a bowl and pitcher, which, too, she had never seen before. “make yourself at home right now,” said the widow crane, pulling open a drawer under a big looking-glass—"and put your things here. that's your bed,” and out she went. how clean it was! there were some flowers in the trail of the lonesome pine a glass vase on the mantel. there were white curtains at the big window and a bed to herself- her own bed. she went over to the window. there was a steep bank, lined with rhododendrons, right under it. there was a mill-dam below and down the stream she could hear the creaking of a water-wheel, and she could see it dripping and shining in the sun—a gristmill! she thought of uncle billy and ole hon, and in spite of a little pang of home-sickness she felt no loneliness at all. “i knew she would be pretty,” said miss anne gate outside. “i told you she was pretty," said hale. “but not so pretty as that,” said miss anne. “we will be “i hope so-for her sake," said hale. at the great friends." . hale waited till noon-recess was nearly over, and then he went to take june to the school-house. he was told that she was in her room and he went up and knocked at the door. there was no an- swer—for one does not knock on doors for en. trance in the mountains, and, thinking he had made a mistake, he was about to try another room, when june opened the door to see what the matter was. she gave him a glad smile. “come on," he said, and when she went for her bonnet, he stepped into the room. "how do you like it?" june nodded toward the window and hale went to it. the trail of the lonesome pine a pale “thar's uncle billy's mill out thar.” “why, so it is,” said hale smiling. “that's fine.” the school-house, to june's wonder, had shingles on the outside around all the walls from roof to foundation, and a big bell hung on top of it under a little shingled roof of its own. little man with spectacles and pale blue eyes met them at the door and he gave june a pale, slender hand and cleared his throat before he spoke to her. “she's never been to school," said hale; “she can read and spell, but she's not very strong on arithmetic.” “very well, i'll turn her over to the primary.” the school-bell sounded; hale left with a parting prophecy—“you'll be proud of her some day”- at which june blushed and then, with a beating heart, she followed the little man into his office. a few minutes later, the assistant came in, and she was none other than the wonderful young woman whom hale had called miss anne. there were a few instructions in a halting voice and with much clearing of the throat from the pale little man; and a moment later june walked the gaunt- let of the eyes of her schoolmates, every one of whom looked up from his book or hers to watch her as she went to her seat. miss anne pointed out the arithmetic lesson and, without lifting her eyes, june bent with a flushed face to her task. it reddened with shame when she was called to the i the trail of the lonesome pine class, for she sat on the bench, taller by a head and more than any of the boys and girls thereon, ex- cept one awkward youth who caught her eye and grinned with unashamed companionship. the teacher noticed her look and understood with a sudden keen sympathy, and naturally she was struck by the fact that the new pupil was the only one who never missed an answer. “she won't be there long,” miss anne thought, and she gave june a smile for which the little girl was almost grateful. june spoke to no one, but walked through her schoolmates homeward, when school was over, like a haughty young queen. miss anne had gone ahead and was standing at the gate talking with mrs. crane, and the young woman spoke to june most kindly. “mr. hale has been called away on business,' she said, and june's heart sank—"and i'm going to take care of you until he comes back.” “i'm much obleeged,” she said, and while she was not ungracious, her manner indicated her belief that she could take care of herself. and miss anne felt uncomfortably that this extraor- dinary young person was steadily measuring her from head to foot. june saw the smart close- fitting gown, the dainty little boots, and the care- fully brushed hair. she noticed how white her teeth were and her hands, and she saw that the nails looked polished and that the tips of them were like little white crescents; and she could still i the trail of the lonesome pine see every detail when she sat at her window, look- ing down at the old mill. she saw mr. hale when he left, the young lady had said; and she had a headache now and was going home to lie down. she understood now what hale meant, on the mountainside when she was so angry with him. she was learning fast, and most from the two per- sons who were not conscious what they were teaching her. and she would learn in the school, too, for the slumbering ambition in her suddenly became passionately definite now. she went to the mirror and looked at her hair-she would learn how to plait that in two braids down her back, as the other school-girls did. she looked at her hands and straightway she fell to scrubbing them with soap as she had never scrubbed them before. as she worked, she heard her name called and she opened the door. “yes, mam!” she answered, for already she had picked that up in the school-room. “come on, june, and go down the street with me." “yes, mam,” she repeated, and she wiped her hands and hurried down. mrs. crane had looked through the girl's pathetic wardrobe, while she was at school that afternoon, had told hale before he left and she had a surprise for little june. to- gether they went down the street and into the chief store in town and, to june's amazement, mrs. crane began ordering things for “this little girl.” the trail of the lonesome pine “who's a-goin' to pay fer all these things ?” whispered june, aghast. “don't you bother, honey. mr. hale said he would fix all that with your pappy. it's some coal deal or something-don't you bother!” and june in a quiver of happiness didn't bother. stockings, petticoats, some soft stuff for a new dress and tan shoes that looked like the ones that wonderful young woman wore and then some long white things. “what's them fer?" she whispered, but the clerk heard her and laughed, whereat mrs. crane gave him such a glance that he retired quickly. “night-gowns, honey.” "you sleep in 'em?” said june in an awed voice. “that's just what you do,” said the good old woman, hardly less pleased than june. “my, but you've got pretty feet.” “i wish they were half as purty as "well, they are,” interrupted mrs. crane a little snappishly; apparently she did not like miss anne. “wrap 'em up and mr. hale will attend to the bill.” “all right,” said the clerk looking much mys- tified. outside the door, june looked up into the beaming goggles of the hon. samuel budd. “is this the little girl? howdye, june,” he the trail of the lonesome pine said, and june put her hand in the hon. sam's with a sudden trust in his voice. “i'm going to help take care of you, too,” said mr. budd, and june smiled at him with shy grat- itude. how kind everybody was! “i'm much obleeged,” she said, and she and mrs. crane went on back with their bundles. june's hands so trembled when she found her- self alone with her treasures that she could hardly unpack them. when she had folded and laid them away, she had to unfold them to look at them again. she hurried to bed that night merely that she might put on one of those wonderful night-gowns, and again she had to look all her treasures over. she was glad that she had brought the doll because he had given it to her, but she said to herself “i'm a-gittin' too big now fer dolls!” and she put it away. then she set the lamp on the mantel-piece so that she could see herself in her wonderful night-gown. she let her shining hair fall like molten gold around her shoul- ders, and she wondered whether she could ever look like the dainty creature that just now was the model she so passionately wanted to be like. then she blew out the lamp and sat a while by the window, looking down through the rhododendrons, at the shining water and at the old water-wheel sleepily at rest in the moonlight. she knelt down then at her bedside to say her prayers—as her dead sister had taught her to do—and she asked the trail of the lonesome pine god to bless jack-wondering as she prayed that she had heard nobody else call him jack-and then she lay down with her breast heaving. she had told him she would never do that again, but she couldn't help it now—the tears came and from happiness she cried herself softly to sleep. xiii hale rode that night under a brilliant moon to the worm of a railroad that had been creeping for many years toward the gap. the head of it was just protruding from the natural tunnel twenty miles away. there he sent his horse back, slept in a shanty till morning, and then the train crawled through a towering bench of rock. the mouth of it on the other side opened into a mighty amphitheatre with solid rock walls shooting vertically hundreds of feet upward. vertically, he thought—with the back of his head between his shoulders as he looked up—they were more than vertical—they were actually concave. the almighty had not only stored riches immeas- urable in the hills behind him-he had driven this passage himself to help puny man to reach them, and yet the wretched road was going toward them like a snail. on the fifth night, thereafter he was back there at the tunnel again from new york—with a grim mouth and a happy eye. he had brought success with him this time and there was no sleep for him that night. he had been de- layed by a wreck, it was two o'clock in the morn- ing, and not a horse was available; so he started the trail of the lonesome pine those twenty miles afoot, and day was breaking when he looked down on the little valley shrouded in mist and just wakening from sleep. things had been moving while he was away, as he quickly learned. the english were buying lands right and left at the gap sixty miles south- west. two companies had purchased most of the town-site where he was his town-site-and were going to pool their holdings and form an improve- ment company. but a good deal was left, and straightway hale got a map from his office and with it in his hand walked down the curve of the river and over poplar hill and beyond. early breakfast was ready when he got back to the hotel. he swallowed a cup of coffee so hastily that it burned him, and june, when she passed his window on her way to school, saw him busy over his desk. she started to shout to him, but he looked so haggard and grim that she was afraid, and went on, vaguely hurt by a preoccupation that seemed quite to have excluded her. hours then, hale haggled and bargained, and at ten o'clock he went to the telegraph office. the operator who was speculating in a small way him- self smiled when he read the telegram. “a thousand an acre?” he repeated with a whistle. “you could have got that at twenty-five per—three months ago." “i know,” said hale, “there's time enough yet.” then he went to his room, pulled the for two the trail of the lonesome pine and the shock of curly hair that stuck from his absurd little cap shook with his laughter. “slapped him! she knocked him as flat as a pancake.” “yes, an' you said you'd stand fer her,” said the other tall boy who was plainly a mountain lad. he was near bursting with rage. “you bet i will,” said the boy with the cap heartily, “right now!” and he dropped his books to the ground. “hold on!” said hale, jumping between them. "you ought to be ashamed of yourself,” he said to the mountain boy. “i wasn't atter the gal,” he said indignantly. “i was comin' fer him." the boy with the cap tried to get away from . “no use, sir,” he said coolly. “you'd better let us settle it now. we'll have to do it some time. i know the breed. he'll fight all right and there's no use puttin' it off. it's got to come.” “you bet it's got to come,” said the mountain lad. “you can't call my brother names.” “well, he is a skate,” said the boy with the cap, with no heat at all in spite of his indignation, and hale wondered at his aged calm. “every one of you little tads,” he went on coolly, waving his hand at the gathered group, “is a skate who teases this little girl. and you older boys are skates for letting the little ones do hale's grasp the trail of the lonesome pine it, the whole pack of you—and i'm going to spank any little tadpole who does it hereafter, and i'm going to punch the head off any big one who allows it. it's got to stop now!” and as hale dragged him off he added to the mountain boy, "and i'm going to begin with you whenever you say the word.” hale was laughing now. “you don't seem to understand," he said, "this is my affair.” “i beg your pardon, sir, i don't understand.” “why, i'm taking care of this little girl.” “oh, well, you see i didn't know that. i've only been here two days. but”-his frank, gen- erous face broke into a winning smile—“you don't go to school. you'll let me watch out for her there?” “sure! i'll be very grateful. “not at all, sir—not at all. it was a great pleasure and i think i'll have lots of fun.” he looked at june, whose grateful eyes had hardly left his face. “so don't you soil your little fist any more with any of 'em, but just tell meer-er- “june,” she said, and a shy smile came through her tears. “june,” he finished with a boyish laugh. “good-by, sir.” “you haven't told me your name. “i suppose you know my brothers, sir, the berkleys.” the trail of the lonesome pine “i should say so," and hale held out his hand. “you're bob ?” “yes, sir.” “i knew you were coming, and i'm mighty glad to see you. i hope you and june will be good friends and i'll be very glad to have you watch over her when i'm away. “i'd like nothing better, sir," he said cheer- fully, and quite impersonally as far as june was concerned. then his eyes lighted up. “my brothers don't seem to want me to join the police guard. won't you say a word for me?" "i certainly will.” “thank you, sir.” that “sir” no longer bothered hale. at first he had thought it a mark of respect to his superior age, and he was not particularly pleased, but when he knew now that the lad was another son of the old gentleman whom he saw riding up the valley every morning on a gray horse, with several dogs trailing after him-he knew the word was merely a family characteristic of old-fashioned courtesy. “isn't he nice, june?” “yes,” she said. “have you missed me, june?” june slid her hand into his. “i'm so glad you come back.” they were approaching the gate now. “june, you said you weren't going to cry any more.” june's head drooped. the trail of the lonesome pine “i know, but i jes' can't help it when i git mad,” she said seriously. “i'd bust if i didn't.” “all right,” said hale kindly. “i've cried twice,” she said. “what were you mad about the other time?” “i wasn't mad.” “then why did you cry, june ?” her dark eyes looked full at him a moment and then her long lashes hid them. “cause you was so good to me. hale choked suddenly and patted her on the shoulder. “go in, now, little girl, and study. then you must take a walk. i've got some work to do. i'll see you at supper time.” “all right,” said june. she turned at the gate to watch hale enter the hotel, and as she started indoors, she heard a horse coming at a gallop and she turned again to see her cousin, dave tolliver, in front of the house. she ran back to the gate and then she saw that he was swaying in his saddle. “hello, june!” he called thickly. her face grew hard and she made no answer. “i've come over to take ye back home.” she only stared at him rebukingly, and he straightened in his saddle with an effort at self- control—but his eyes got darker and he looked ugly. “d’you hear me? i've come over to take ye home.” pull up the trail of the lonesome pine me “you oughter be ashamed o’yourself,” she said hotly, and she turned to go back into the house. “oh, you ain't ready now. well, git ready an’ we'll start in the mornin'. i'll be aroun' fer ye 'bout the break o' day.” he whirled his horse with an oath-june was gone. she saw him ride swaying down the street and she ran across to the hotel and found hale sitting in the office with another man. hale saw her entering the door swiftly, he knew something was wrong and he rose to meet her. “dave's here,” she whispered hurriedly, “an' he says he's come to take home." “well,” said hale, “he won't do it, will he?” june shook her head and then she said signifi- cantly: “dave's drinkin'." hale's brow clouded. straightway he foresaw trouble—but he said cheerily: “all right. you go back and keep in the house and i'll be over by and by and we'll talk it over." and, without another word, she went. she had meant to put on her new dress and her new shoes and stockings that night that hale might see her —but she was in doubt about doing it when she got to her room. she tried to study her lessons for the next day, but she couldn't fix her mind on them. she wondered if dave might not get into a fight or, perhaps, he would get so drunk that he would go to sleep somewhere—she knew that men the trail of the lonesome pine did that after drinking very much-and, anyhow, he would not bother her until next morning, and then he would be sober and would go quietly back home. she was so comforted that she got to thinking about the hair of the girl who sat in front of her at school. it was plaited and she had studied just how it was done and she began to wonder whether she could fix her own that way. so she got in front of the mirror and loosened hers in a mass about her shoulders—the mass that was to hale like the golden bronze of a wild tur- key's wing. the other girl's plaits were the same size, so that the hair had to be equally divided thus she argued to herself—but how did that girl manage to plait it behind her back? she did it in front, of course, so june divided the bronze heap behind her and pulled one half of it in front of her and then for a moment she was helpless. then she laughed—it must be done like the grass- blades and strings she had plaited for bub, of course, so, dividing that half into three parts, she did the plaiting swiftly and easily. when it was finished she looked at the braid, much pleased- for it hung below her waist and was much longer than any of the other girls' at school. the transi- tion was easy now, so interested had she become. she got out her tan shoes and stockings and the pretty white dress and put them on. the mill- pond was dark with shadows now, and she went down the stairs and out to the gate just as dave the trail of the lonesome pine again pulled up in front of it. he stared at the vision wonderingly and long, and then he began to laugh with the scorn of soberness and the silli- ness of drink. “you ain't june, air ye?” the girl never moved. as if by a preconcerted signal three men moved toward the boy, and one of them said sternly: “drop that pistol. you are under arrest." the boy glared like a wild thing trapped, from one to another of the three-a pistol gleamed in the hand of each—and slowly thrust his own weapon into his pocket. “get off that horse," added the stern voice. just then hale rushed across the street and the mountain youth saw him. “ketch his pistol,” cried june, in terror for hale--for she knew what was coming, and one of the men caught with both hands the wrist of dave's arm as it shot behind him. “take him to the calaboose!” at that june opened the gate—that disgrace she could never stand-but hale spoke. “i know him, boys. he doesn't mean any harm. he doesn't know the regulations yet. suppose we let him go home." “all right,” said logan. “the calaboose or home. will you go home?” in the moment, the mountain boy had appar- ently forgotten his captors—he was staring at the trail of the lonesome pine june with wonder, amazement, incredulity strug- gling through the fumes in his brain to his flushed face. she-a tolliver-had warned a stranger against her own blood-cousin. “will you go home?" repeated logan sternly, the boy looked around at the words, as though he were half dazed, and his baffled face turned sick and white. “lemme loose!” he said sullenly. "i'll go home.” and he rode silently away, after giving hale a vindictive look that told him plainer than words that more was yet to come. hale had heard june's warning cry, but now when he looked for her she was gone. he went in to supper and sat down at the table and still she did not come. “she's got a surprise for you,” said mrs. crane, smiling mysteriously. "she's been fixing for you for an hour. my! but she's pretty in them new clothes—why, june!” june was coming in—she wore her homespun, her scarlet homespun and the psyche knot. she did not seem to have heard mrs. crane's note of wonder, and she sat quietly down in her seat. her face was pale and she did not look at hale. nothing was said of dave--in fact, june said nothing at all, and hale, too, vaguely understand- ing, kept quiet. only when he went out, hale called her to the gate and put one hand on her head. “ “i'm sorry, little girl.” the trail of the lonesome pine the girl lifted her great troubled eyes to him, but no word passed her lips, and hale helplessly left her. june did not cry that night. she sat by the window-wretched and tearless. she had taken sides with "furriners” against her own people. that was why, instinctively, she had put on her old homespun with a vague purpose of reparation to them. she knew the story dave would take back home—the bitter anger that his people and hers would feel at the outrage done him--anger against the town, the guard, against hale because he was a part of both and even against her. dave was merely drunk, he had simply shot off his pistol- that was no harm in the hills. and yet everybody had dashed toward him as though he had stolen something-even hale. yes, even that boy with the cap who had stood up for her at school that afternoon—he had rushed up, his face aflame with excitement, eager to take part should dave resist. she had cried out impulsively to save hale, but dave would not understand. no, in his eyes she had been false to family and friends—to the clan-she had sided with "furriners." what would her father say ? perhaps she'd better go home next day-perhaps for good—for there was a deep unrest within her that she could not fath- om, a premonition that she was at the parting of the ways, a vague fear of the shadows that hung about the strange new path on which her feet were the trail of the lonesome pine set. the old mill creaked in the moonlight below her. sometimes, when the wind blew up lone- some cove, she could hear uncle billy's wheel creaking just that way. a sudden pang of home- sickness choked her, but she did not cry. yes, she would go home next day. she blew out the light and undressed in the dark as she did at home and went to bed. and that night the little night-gown lay apart from her in the drawer-unfolded and untouched. xiv but june did not go home. hale anticipated that resolution of hers and forestalled it by being on hand for breakfast and taking june over to the porch of his little office. there he tried to explain to her that they were trying to build a town and must have law and order; that they must have no personal feeling for or against any- body and must treat everybody exactly alike—no other course was fair—and though june could not quite understand, she trusted him and she said she would keep on at school until her father came for her. “do you think he will come, june?” the little girl hesitated. "i'm afeerd he will,” she said, and hale smiled. “well, i'll try to persuade him to let you stay, if he does come.” june was quite right. she had seen the matter the night before just as it was. for just at that hour young dave, sobered, but still on the verge of tears from anger and humiliation, was telling the story of the day in her father's cabin. the old man's brows drew together and his eyes grew fierce and sullen, both at the insult to a tolliver the trail of the lonesome pine and at the thought of a certain moonshine still up a ravine not far away and the indirect danger to it in any finicky growth of law and order. still he had a keen sense of justice, and he knew that dave had not told all the story, and from him dave, to his wonder, got scant comfort-for an- other reason as well: with a deal pending for the sale of his lands, the shrewd old man would not risk giving offence to hale—not until that matter was settled, anyway. and so june was safer from interference just then than she knew. but dave carried the story far and wide, and it spread as a story can only in the hills. so that the two people most talked about among the tollivers and, through loretta, among the falins as well, were june and hale, and at the gap similar talk would come. already hale's name was on every tongue in the town, and there, because of his recent pur- chases of town-site land, he was already, aside from his personal influence, a man of mysterious power. meanwhile, the prescient shadow of the coming “boom” had stolen over the hills and the work of the guard had grown rapidly. every saturday there had been local lawless- ness to deal with. the spirit of personal liberty that characterized the spot was traditional. here for half a century the people of wise county and of lee, whose border was but a few miles down the river, came to get their wool carded, their grist the trail of the lonesome pine ground and farming utensils mended. here, too, elections were held viva voce under the beeches, at the foot of the wooded spur now known as im- boden hill. here were the muster-days of war- time. here on saturdays the people had come together during half a century for sport and horse- trading and to talk politics. here they drank apple-jack and hard cider, chaffed and quarrelled and fought fist and skull. here the bullies of the two counties would come together to decide who was the “best man.” here was naturally engen- dered the hostility between the hill-dwellers of wise and the valley people of lee, and here was fought a famous battle between a famous bully of wise and a famous bully of lee. on election days the country people would bring in gingercakes made of cane-molasses, bread homemade of burr flour and moonshine and apple-jack which the candi- dates would buy and distribute through the crowd. and always during the afternoon there were men who would try to prove themselves the best democrats in the state of virginia by resort to tooth, fist and eye-gouging thumb. then to these elections sometimes would come the ken- tuckians from over the border to stir up the hos- tility between state and state, which makes that border bristle with enmity to this day. for half a century, then, all wild oats from elsewhere usually sprouted at the gap. and thus the gap had been the shrine of personal freedom—the the trail of the lonesome pine place where any one individual had the right to do his pleasure with bottle and cards and politics and any other the right to prove him wrong if he were strong enough. very soon, as the hon. sam budd predicted, they had the hostility of lee concentrated on them as siding with the county of wise, and they would gain, in addition now, the general hostility of the kentuckians, because as a crowd of meddlesome “furriners” they would be siding with the virginians in the general enmity already alive. moreover, now that the feud threatened activity over in kentucky, more trouble must come, too, from that source, as the talk that came through the gap, after young dave tolliver's arrest, plainly indicated. town ordinances had been passed. the wild centaurs were no longer allowed to ride up and down the plank walks of saturdays with their reins in their teeth and firing a pistol into the ground with either hand; they could punctuate the hotel sign no more; they could not ride at a fast gallop through the streets of the town, and, lost spirit of american liberty!—they could not even yell. but the lawlessness of the town itself and its close environment was naturally the first objective point, and the first problem involved was moonshine and its faithful ally “the blind tiger.” the "tiger” is a little shanty with an ever-open mouth—a hole in the door like a post-office win- dow. you place your money on the sill and, at the the trail of the lonesome pine ring of the coin, a mysterious arm emerges from the hole, sweeps the money away and leaves a bottle of white whiskey. thus you see nobody's face; the owner of the beast is safe, and so are you- which you might not be, if you saw and told. in every little hollow about the gap a tiger had his lair, and these were all bearded at once by a peti- tion to the county judge for high license saloons, which was granted. this measure drove the tigers out of business, and concentrated moonshine in the heart of the town, where its devotees were under easy guard. one “tiger” only indeed was left, run by a round-shouldered crouching creature whom bob berkley—now at hale's solicitation a policeman and known as the infant of the · guard-dubbed caliban. his shanty stood mid- way in the gap, high from the road, set against a dark clump of pines and roared at by the river beneath. everybody knew he sold whiskey, but he was too shrewd to be caught, until, late one afternoon, two days after young dave's arrest, hale coming through the gap into town glimpsed a skulking figure with a hand-barrel as it slipped from the dark pines into caliban's cabin. he pulled in his horse, dismounted and deliberated. if he went on down the road now, they would see him and suspect. moreover, the patrons of the tiger would not appear until after dark, and he wanted a prisoner or two. so hale led his horse up into the bushes and came back to a covert by the trail of the lonesome pine the roadside to watch and wait. as he sat there, a merry whistle sounded down the road, and hale smiled. soon the infant of the guard came along, his hands in his pockets, his cap on the back of his head, his pistol bumping his hip in manly fashion and making the ravines echo with his pursed lips. he stopped in front of hale, looked toward the river, drew his revolver and aimed it at a floating piece of wood. the revolver cracked, the piece of wood skidded on the surface of the water and there was no splash. “that was a pretty good shot,” said hale in a low voice. the boy whirled and saw him. “well—what are you- ?" “easy—easy!” cautioned hale. “listen! i've just seen a moonshiner go into caliban's cabin.” the boy's eager eyes sparkled. “let's go after him.” “no, you go on back. if you don't, they'll be suspicious. get another man”—hale almost laughed at the disappointment in the lad's face at his first words, and the joy that came after it- "and climb high above the shanty and come back here to me. then after dark we'll dash in and cinch caliban and his customers." “yes, sir,” said the lad. “shall i whistle going back?” hale nodded approval. “just the same.” and off bob went, whistling like a calliope and not even turning his head to look at the cabin. in half an hour hale thought the trail of the lonesome pine ” he heard something crashing through the bushes high on the mountain side, and, a little while after- ward, the boy crawled through the bushes to him alone. his cap was gone, there was a bloody scratch across his face and he was streaming with perspiration. “you'll have to excuse me, sir,” he panted, “i didn't see anybody but one of my brothers, and if i had told him, he wouldn't have let me come. and i hurried back for fear-for fear something would happen.” “well, suppose i don't let you go. "excuse me, sir, but i don't see how you can very well help. you aren't my brother and you can't go alone. "i was,” said hale. “yes, sir, but not now.' hale was worried, but there was nothing else to be done. “all right. i'll let you go if you stop saying 'sir' to me. it makes me feel so old." “certainly, sir,” said the lad quite uncon- sciously, and when hale smothered a laugh, he looked around to see what had amused him. darkness fell quickly, and in the gathering gloom they saw two more figures skulk into the cabin. “we'll go now-for we want the fellow who's selling the moonshine." again hale was beset with doubts about the boy and his own responsibility to the boy's broth- the trail of the lonesome pine ers. the lad's eyes were shining, but his face was more eager than excited and his hand was as steady as hale's own. “you slip around and station yourself behind that pine-tree just behind the cabin”—the boy looked crestfallen-“and if anybody tries to get out of the back door—you halt him.” “is there a back door?” “i don't know,” hale said rather shortly. “you obey orders. i'm not your brother, but i'm your captain. “i beg your pardon, sir. shall i go now?” “yes, you'll hear me at the front door. they won't make any resistance.” the lad stepped away with nimble caution high above the cabin, and he even took his shoes off before he slid lightly down to his place behind the pine. there was no back door, only a window, and his disappoint- ment was bitter. still, when he heard hale at the front door, he meant to make a break for that window, and he waited in the still gloom. he could hear the rough talk and laughter within and now and then the clink of a tin cup. by and by there was a faint noise in front of the cabin, and he steadied his nerves and his beating heart. then he heard the door pushed violently in and hale's cry: “surrender!” hale stood on the threshold with his pistol out- stretched in his right hand. the door had struck something soft and he said sharply again: the trail of the lonesome pine “come out from behind that door hands up!" at the same moment, the back window flew open with a bang and bob's pistol covered the edge of the opened door. “caliban” had rolled from his box like a stupid animal. two of his patrons sat dazed and staring from hale to the boy's face at the window. a mountaineer stood in one corner with twitching fingers and shifting eyes like a caged wild thing and forth issued from behind the door, quivering with anger-young dave tolliver. hale stared at him amazed, and when dave saw hale, such a wave of fury surged over his face that bob thought it best to attract his attention again; which he did by gently motion- ing at him with the barrel of his pistol. “hold on, there,” he said quietly, and young dave stood still. climb through that window, bob, and collect the batteries,” said hale. “sure, sir,” said the lad, and with his pistol still prominently in the foreground he threw his left leg over the sill and as he climbed in he quoted with a grunt: “always go in force to make an arrest. grim and serious as it was, with june's cousin glowering at him, hale could not help smiling "you didn't go home, after all,” said hale to young dave, who clenched his hands and his lips but answered nothing; “or, if you did, the trail of the lonesome pine you got back pretty quick.” and still dave was silent. “get 'em all, bob?” in answer the boy went the rounds—feeling the pocket of each man's right hip and his left breast. “yes, sir." “unload 'em!” the lad "broke" each of the four pistols, picked up a piece of twine and strung them to- gether through each trigger-guard. “close that window and stand here at the door.” with the boy at the door, hale rolled the hand- barrel to the threshold and the white liquor gur- gled joyously on the steps. “all right, come along,” he said to the captives, and at last young dave spoke: “whut you takin' me fer?" hale pointed to the empty hand-barrel and dave's answer was a look of scorn. “i nuvver brought that hyeh.” “you were drinking illegal liquor in a blind tiger, and if you didn't bring it you can prove that later. anyhow, we'll want you as a witness," and hale looked at the other mountaineer, who had turned his eyes quickly to dave. caliban led the way with young dave, and hale walked side by side with them while bob was escort for the other two. the road ran along a high bank, and as bob was adjusting the jangling weapons on his left the trail of the lonesome pine arm, the strange mountaineer darted behind him and leaped headlong into the tops of thick rhodo- dendron. before hale knew what had happened the lad's pistol flashed. “stop, boy!” he cried, horrified. “don't shoot!” and he had to catch the lad to keep him from leaping after the runaway. the shot had missed; they heard the runaway splash into the river and go stumbling across it and then there was silence. young dave laughed: “uncle judd'll be over hyeh to-morrow to see about this.” hale said nothing and they went on. at the door of the calaboose dave balked and had to be pushed in by main force. they left him weeping and cursing with rage. “go to bed, bob,” said hale. “yes, sir,” said bob; “just as soon as i get my lessons.' hale did not go to the boarding-house that night—he feared to face june. instead he went to the hotel to scraps of a late supper and then to bed. he had hardly touched the pillow, it seemed, when somebody shook him by the shoulder. it was macfarlan, and daylight was streaming through the window. “a gang of those falins are here,” macfarlan said, “and they're after young dave tolliver- about a dozen of 'em. young buck is with them, and the sheriff. they say he shot a man over the mountains yesterday. the trail of the lonesome pine hale sprang for his clothes-here was a quan- dary. “if we turn him over to them—they'll kill him." macfarlan nodded. “of course, and if we leave him in that weak old calaboose, they'll get more help and take him out to-night.” “then we'll take him to the county jail." "they'll take him away from us.' “no, they won't. you go out and get as many shotguns as you can find and load them with buckshot.” macfarlan nodded approvingly and disap- peared. hale plunged his face in a basin of cold water, soaked his hair and, as he was mopping his face with a towel, there was a ponderous tread on the porch, the door opened without the formality of a knock, and devil judd tolliver, with his hat on and belted with two huge pistols, stepped stoop- ing within. his eyes, red with anger and loss of sleep, were glaring, and his heavy moustache and beard showed the twitching of his mouth. “whar's dave?” he said shortly. “in the calaboose.” “did you put him in ?" “yes,” said hale calmly. "well, by god," the old man said with re- pressed fury, "you can't git him out too soon if you want to save trouble." “look here, judd,” said hale seriously. “you the trail of the lonesome pine are one of the last men in the world i want to have trouble with for many reasons; but i'm an officer over here and i'm no more afraid of you”—hale paused to let that fact sink in and it did—“than you are of me. dave's been selling liquor.” “he hain't," interrupted the old mountaineer. “he didn't bring that liquor over hyeh. i know who done it." “all right,” said hale; “i'll take your word for it and i'll let him out, if you say so, but- right now,” thundered old judd. “do you know that young buck falin and a dozen of his gang are over here after him?” the old man looked stunned. “whut--now?" “they're over there in the woods across the river now and they want me to give him up to them. they say they have the sheriff with them and they want him for shooting a man on leather- wood creek, day before yesterday." “it's all a lie,” burst out old judd. “they want to kill him.” “of course—and i was going to take him up to the county jail right away for safe-keeping.” “d'ye mean to say you'd throw that boy into jail and then fight them falins to pertect him ?” the old man asked slowly and incredulously. hale pointed to a two-store building through his window. “if you get in the back part of that store at a the trail of the lonesome pine window, you can see whether i will or not. i can summon you to help, and if a fight comes up you can do your share from the window.” the old man's eyes lighted up like a leaping flame. “will you let dave out and give him a win- chester and help us fight 'em ?” he said eagerly. “we three can whip 'em all.” "no," said hale shortly. “i'd try to keep both sides from fighting, and i'd arrest dave or you as quickly as i would a falin." the average mountaineer has little conception of duty in the abstract, but old judd belonged to the better class—and there are many of them- that does. he looked into hale's eyes long and steadily “all right.” macfarlan came in hurriedly and stopped short -seeing the hatted, bearded giant. “this is mr. tolliver—an uncle of dave's judd tolliver,” said hale. “go ahead.” “i've got everything fixed—but i couldn't get but five of the fellows-two of the berkley boys. they wouldn't let me tell bob.” “all right. can i summon mr. tolliver here?” “yes," said macfarlan doubtfully, “but you know “he won't be seen," interrupted hale, under- standingly. “he'll be at a window in the back of the trail of the lonesome pine that store and he won't take part unless a fight begins, and if it does, we'll need him.” an hour later devil judd tolliver was in the store hale pointed out and peering cautiously around the edge of an open window at the wooden gate of the ramshackle calaboose. several falins were there—led by young buck, whom hale rec- ognized as the red-headed youth at the head of the tearing horsemen who had swept by him that late afternoon when he was coming back from his first trip to lonesome cove. the old man gritted his teeth as he looked and he put one of his huge pistols on a table within easy reach and kept the other clenched in his right fist. from down the street came five horsemen, led by john hale. every man carried a double-barrelled shotgun, and the old man smiled and his respect for hale rose higher, high as it already was, for nobody-moun- taineer or not-has love for a hostile shotgun. the falins, armed only with pistols, drew near. “keep back!” he heard hale say calmly, and they stopped--young buck alone going on. “we want that feller," said young buck. “well, you don't get him," said hale quietly. “he's our prisoner. keep back!” he repeated, motioning with the barrel of his shotgun—and young buck moved backward to his own men. the old man saw hale and another man—the ser- geant-go inside the heavy gate of the stockade. he saw a boy in a cap, with a pistol in one hand the trail of the lonesome pine and a strapped set of books in the other, come running up to the men with the shotguns and he heard one of them say angrily: “i told you not to come. “i know you did,” said the boy imperturbably. "you go on to school,” said another of the men, but the boy with the cap shook his head and dropped his books to the ground. the big gate opened just then and out came hale and the ser- geant, and between them young dave-his eyes blinking in the sunlight. “damn ye,” he heard dave say to hale. “i'll get even with you fer this some day”—and then the prisoner's eyes caught the horses and shotguns and turned to the group of falins and he shrank back utterly dazed. there was a movement among the falins and devil judd caught up his other pistol and with a grim smile got ready. young buck had turned to his crowd: “men," he said, "you know i never back down”—devil judd knew that, too, and he was amazed by the words that followed—“an' if you say so, we'll have him or die; but we ain't in our own state now. they've got the law and the shotguns on us, an' i reckon we'd better go slow.” the rest seemed quite willing to go slow, and, as they put their pistols up, devil judd laughed in his beard. hale put young dave on a horse and the little shotgun cavalcade quietly moved away toward the county-seat. the trail of the lonesome pine the crestfallen falins dispersed the other way after they had taken a parting shot at the hon. samuel budd, who, too, had a pistol in his hand. young buck looked long at him and then he laughed: “you, too, sam budd,” he said. “we folks'il rickollect this on election day." the hon. sam deigned no answer. and up in the store devil judd lighted his pipe and sat down to think out the strange code of eth- ics that governed that police-guard. hale had told him to wait there, and it was almost noon be- fore the boy with the cap came to tell him that the falins had all left town. the old man looked at him kindly. “air you the little feller whut fit fer june?" “not yet," said bob; “but it's coming.” "well, you'll whoop him.” “i'll do my best.” “whar is she?” “she's waiting for you over at the boarding- house." “does she know about this trouble?” “not a thing; she thinks you've come to take her home. the old man made no answer, and bob led him back toward hale's office. june was waiting at the gate, and the boy, lifting his cap, passed on. june's eyes were dark with anxiety. “you come to take me home, dad ?” the trail of the lonesome pine “i been thinkin' 'bout it,” he said, with a doubtful shake of his head. june took him upstairs to her room and pointed out the old water-wheel through the window and her new clothes (she had put on her old homespun again when she heard he was in town), and the old man shook his head. “i'm afeerd 'bout all these fixin's—you won't never be satisfied agin in lonesome cove." why, dad,” she said reprovingly. “ jack says i can go over whenever i please, as soon as the weather gits warmer and the roads gits good.” "i don't know," said the old man, still shaking his head. all through dinner she was worried. devil judd hardly ate anything, so embarrassed was he by the presence of so many "furriners” and by the white cloth and table-ware, and so fearful was he that he would be guilty of some breach of man- ners. resolutely he refused butter, and at the third urging by mrs. crane he said firmly, but with a shrewd twinkle in his eye: “no, thank ye. i never eats butter in town. i've kept store myself,” and he was no little pleased with the laugh that went around the table. the fact was he was generally pleased with june's envi- ronment and, after dinner, he stopped teasing june. “no, honey, i ain't goin' to take you away. i want ye to stay right where ye air. be a good girl the trail of the lonesome pine now and do whatever jack hale tells ye and tell that boy with all that hair to come over and see me.” june grew almost tearful with grat- itude, for never had he called her “honey” be- fore that she could remember, and never had he talked so much to her, nor with so much kind- ness. “air ye comin' over soon?” "mighty soon, dad.” “well, take keer o' yourself.” “i will, dad,” she said, and tenderly she watched his great figure slouch out of sight. an hour after dark, as old judd sat on the porch of the cabin in lonesome cove, young dave tolliver rode up to the gate on a strange horse. he was in a surly mood. “he lemme go at the head of the valley and give me this hoss to git here,” the boy grudgingly explained. “i'm goin' over to git mine ter- morrer.” “seems like you'd better keep away from that gap,” said the old man dryly, and dave red- dened angrily “yes, and fust thing you know he'll be over hyeh atter you." the old man turned on him sternly “jack hale knows that liquer was mine. he knows i've got a still over hyeh as well as you do -an' he's never axed a question nor peeped an eye. i reckon he would come if he thought he the trail of the lonesome pine virginia side and they'd fight me tooth and toe- nail for this a hundred years hence!” he puffed his pipe, but hale said nothing. “yes, sir,” he added cheerily, "we're in for a hell of a merry time now. the mountaineer hates as long as he remembers and—he never forgets.” xv han and in hand, hale and june followed the footsteps of spring from the time june met him at the school-house gate for their first walk into the woods. hale pointed to some boys playing marbles. “that's the first sign,” he said, and with quick understanding june smiled. the birdlike piping of hylas came from a marshy strip of woodland that ran through the centre of the town and a toad was croaking at the foot of imboden hill. “and they come next. they crossed the swinging foot-bridge, which was a miracle to june, and took the foot-path along the clear stream of south fork, under the laurel which june called “ivy," and the rhoden- dendron which was “laurel” in her speech, and hale pointed out catkins greening on alders in one swampy place and willows just blushing into life along the banks of a little creek. a few yards aside from the path he found, under a patch of snow and dead leaves, the pink-and-white blos- soms and the waxy green leaves of the trailing arbutus, that fragrant harbinger of the old moth- the trail of the lonesome pine er's awakening, and june breathed in from it the very breath of spring. near by were turkey peas, which she had hunted and eaten many times. . “you can't put that arbutus in a garden,” said hale, “it's as wild as a hawk.” presently he had the little girl listen to a pewee twittering in a thorn-bush and the lusty call of a robin from an apple-tree. a bluebird flew over- head with a merry chirp—its wistful note of autumn long since forgotten. these were the first birds and flowers, he said, and june, knowing them only by sight, must know the name of each and the reason for that name. so that hale found himself walking the woods with an interrogation point, and that he might not be confounded he had, later, to dip up much forgotten lore. for every walk became a lesson in botany for june, such a passion did she betray at once for flowers, and he rarely had to tell her the same thing twice, since her memory was like a vise—for everything, as he learned in time. her eyes were quicker than his, too, and now she pointed to a snowy blossom with a deeply lobed leaf. “whut's that?” “bloodroot,” said hale, and he scratched the stem and forth issued scarlet drops. “the indi- ans used to put it on their faces and tomahawks” -she knew that word and nodded—“and i used to make red ink of it when i was a little boy. the trail of the lonesome pine “no!” said june. with the next look she found a tiny bunch of fuzzy hepaticas “liver-leaf.” “whut's liver ?" hale, looking at her glowing face and eyes and her perfect little body, imagined that she would never know unless told that she had one, and so he waved one hand vaguely at his chest: "it's an organ—and that herb is supposed to be good for it.” “organ? whut's that?” "oh, something inside of you." june made the same gesture that hale had. “me?" “yes,” and then helplessly, “but not there exactly." june's eyes had caught something else now and she ran for it: “oh! oh!” it was a bunch of delicate anem- ones of intermediate shades between white and red-yellow, pink and purple-blue. "those are anemones. “ a-nem-o-nes,” repeated june. “wind-flowers—because the wind is supposed to open them.” and, almost unconsciously, hale lapsed into a quotation: “and where a tear has dropped, a wind-flower blows."" “whut's that?” said june quickly. “that's poetry.” the trail of the lonesome pine “whut's po-e-try?” hale threw up both hands. “i don't know, but i'll read you some—some day.” by that time she was gurgling with delight over a bunch of spring beauties that came up, root, stalk and all, when she reached for them. “well, ain't they purty ?” while they lay in her hand and she looked, the rose-veined petals began to close, the leaves to droop and the stem got limp. ah-h!” crooned june. “i won't pull up no more o' them.” “these little dream-flowers found in the spring.' more poetry, june.” a little later he heard her repeating that line to herself. it was an easy step to poetry from flowers, and evidently june was groping for it. a few days later the service-berry swung out white stars on the low hill-sides, but hale could tell her nothing that she did not know about the “sarvice-berry.” soon, the dogwood swept in snowy gusts along the mountains, and from a bank of it one morning a red-bird flamed and sang: “what cheer! what cheer! what cheer!” and like its scarlet coat the red-bud had burst into bloom. june knew the red-bud, but she had never heard it called the judas tree. “you see, the red-bud was supposed to be poi- it shakes in the wind and says to the sonous. the trail of the lonesome pine bees, 'come on, little fellows-here's your nice fresh honey, and when they come, it betrays and poisons them.” “well, what do you think o' that!” said june indignantly, and hale had to hedge a bit. "well, i don't know whether it really does, but that's what they say.” a little farther on the white stars of the trillium gleamed at them from the border of the woods and near by june stooped over some lovely sky-blue blossoms with yellow eyes. “forget-me-nots,” said hale. june stooped to gather them with a radiant face. “oh,” she said, “is that what you call 'em ?” *they aren't the real ones—they're false for- get-me-nots.” “then i don't want 'em,” said june. but they were beautiful and fragrant and she added gently: “'tain't their fault. i'm agoin' to call 'em jus' forget-me-nots, an’ i'm givin' 'em to you, she said—“so that you “thank you,” said hale gravely. “i won't.” they found larkspur, too— “blue as the heaven it gazes at,”' quoted hale. “whut’s ‘gazes'?” “looks.” june looked up at the sky and down at the flower. “'tain't,” she said, "hit's bluer.' when they discovered something hale did not know he would say that it was one of those- won't." the trail of the lonesome pine “wan flowers without a name.'” “my!” said june at last,“ seems like them wan flowers is a mighty big fambly.” “they are,” laughed hale, "for a bachelor like me. “huh!” said june. later, they ran upon yellow adder's tongues in a hollow, each blossom guarded by a pair of ear- like leaves, dutchman's breeches and wild bleed- ing hearts—a name that appealed greatly to the fancy of the romantic little lady, and thus together they followed the footsteps of that spring. and while she studied the flowers hale was studying the loveliest flower of them all—little june. about ferns, plants and trees as well, he told her all he knew, and there seemed nothing in the skies, the green world of the leaves or the under world at her feet to which she was not magically responsive. indeed, hale had never seen a man, woman or child so eager to learn, and one day, when she had apparently reached the limit of inquiry, she grew very thoughtful and he watched her in silence a long while. “what's the matter, june?” he asked finally. “i'm just wonderin' why i'm always axin' why,” said little june. she was learning in school, too, and she was happier there now, for there had been no more open teasing of the new pupil. bob's champion- ship saved her from that, and, thereafter, school the trail of the lonesome pine changed straightway for june. before that day she had kept apart from her school-fellows at re- cess-times as well as in the school-room. two or three of the girls had made friendly advances to her, but she had shyly repelled them—why she hardly knew—and it was her lonely custom at recess-times to build a play-house at the foot of a great beech with moss, broken bits of bottles and stones. once she found it torn to pieces and from the look on the face of the tall mountain boy, cal heaton, who had grinned at her when she went up for her first lesson, and who was now bob's arch-enemy, she knew that he was the guilty one. again a day or two later it was destroyed, and when she came down from the woods almost in tears, bob happened to meet her in the road and made her tell the trouble she was in. straightway he charged the trespasser with the deed and was lied to for his pains. so after school that day he slipped up on the hill with the little girl and helped her rebuild again. “now i'll lay for him,” said bob, “and catch him at it.” “all right,” said june, and she looked both her worry and her gratitude so that bob understood both; and he answered both with a nonchalant wave of one hand. “never you mind—and don't you tell mr. hale," and june in dumb acquiescence crossed heart and body. but the mountain boy was wary, and for the trail of the lonesome pine two or three days the play-house was undisturbed and so bob himself laid a trap. he mounted nis horse immediately after school, rode past the mountain lad, who was on his way home, crossed the river, made a wide détour at a gallop and, hitching his horse in the woods, came to the play- house from the other side of the hill. and half an hour later, when the pale little teacher came out of the school-house, he heard grunts and blows and scuffling up in the woods, and when he ran toward the sounds, the bodies of two of his pupils rolled into sight clenched fiercely, with torn clothes and bleeding faces—bob on top with the moun- tain boy's thumb in his mouth and his own fingers gripped about his antagonist's throat. neither paid any attention to the school-master, who pulled at bob's coat unavailingly and with horror at his ferocity. bob turned his head, shook it as well as the thumb in his mouth would let him, and went on gripping the throat under him and pushing the head that belonged to it into the ground. the mountain boy's tongue showed and his eyes bulged. “'nough!” he yelled. bob rose then and told his story and the school-master from new england gave them a short lecture on gentleness and chris- tian charity and fixed on each the awful penalty of “staying in” after school for an hour every day for a week. bob grinned: “all right, professor-it was worth it,” he said, but the mountain lad shuffled silently away. the trail of the lonesome pine an hour later hale saw the boy with a swollen lip, one eye black and the other as merry as ever- but after that there was no more trouble for june. bob had made his promise good and gradually she came into the games with her fellows there- after, while bob stood or sat aside, encouraging but taking no part-for was he not a member of the police force? indeed he was already known far and wide as the infant of the guard, and al- ways he carried a whistle and usually, outside the school-house, a pistol bumped his hip, while a winchester stood in one corner of his room and a billy dangled by his mantel-piece. the games were new to june, and often hale would stroll up to the school-house to watch them — prisoner's base, skipping the rope, antny over, cracking the whip and lifting the gate; and it pleased him to see how lithe and active his little protégé was and more than a match in strength even for the boys who were near her size. june had to take the penalty of her greenness, too, when she was "introduced to the king and queen” and bumped the ground between the make-believe sovereigns, or got a cup of water in her face when she was trying to see stars through a pipe. and the boys pinned her dress to the bench through a crack and once she walked into school with a placard on her back which read: “june-bug.” but she was so good-natured that she fast became a favourite. indeed it was no- the trail of the lonesome pine ticeable to hale as well as bob that cal heaton, the mountain boy, seemed always to get next to june in the tugs of war, and one morning june found an apple on her desk. she swept the room with a glance and met cal's guilty flush, and though she ate the apple, she gave him no thanks -in word, look or manner. it was curious to hale, moreover, to observe how june's instinct deftly led her to avoid the mistakes in dress that characterized the gropings of other girls who, like her, were in a stage of transition. they wore gaudy combs and green skirts with red waists, their clothes bunched at the hips, and to their shoes and hands they paid no attention at all. none of these things for june—and hale did not know that the little girl had leaped her fellows with one bound, had taken miss anne saunders as her model and was climbing upon the pedestal where that lady justly stood. the two had not become friends as hale hoped. june was always silent and reserved when the older girl was around, but there was never a move of the latter's hand or foot or lip or eye that the new pupil failed to miss anne rallied hale no little about her, but he laughed good-naturedly, and asked why she could not make friends with june. 'she's jealous,” said miss saunders, and hale ridiculed the idea, for not one sign since she came to the gap had she shown him. it was the jeal- ousy of a child she had once betrayed and that see. the trail of the lonesome pine she had outgrown, he thought; but he never knew how june stood behind the curtains of her win- dow, with a hungry suffering in her face and eyes, to watch hale and miss anne ride by and he never guessed that concealment was but a sign of the dawn of womanhood that was breaking within her. and she gave no hint of that breaking dawn until one day early in may, when she heard a woodthrush for the first time with hale: for it was the bird she loved best, and always its silver fluting would stop her in her tracks and send her into dreamland. hale had just broken a crimson flower from its stem and held it out to her. "here's another of the 'wan ones,’ june. do you know what that is ?” “hit’s”—she paused for correction with her lips drawn severely in for precision-“it's a mountain poppy. pap says it kills goslings”- her eyes danced, for she was in a merry mood that day, and she put both hands behind her—“if you air any kin to a goose, you better drap it." “that's a good one,” laughed hale, “but it's so lovely i'll take the risk. i won't drop it.” “drop it,” caught june with a quick upward look, and then to fix the word in her memory she repeated—“drop it, drop it, drop it! “got it now, june?" “uh-huh." it was then that a woodthrush voiced the the trail of the lonesome pine crowning joy of spring, and with slowly filling eyes she asked its name. “that bird,” she said slowly and with a break- ing voice, “sung just that-a-way the mornin' my sister died." she turned to him with a wondering smile. “somehow it don't make me so miserable, like it useter.” her smile passed while she looked, she caught both hands to her heaving breast and a wild intensity burned suddenly in her eyes. “why, june!” “'tain't nothin',” she choked out, and she turned hurriedly ahead of him down the path. startled, hale had dropped the crimson flower to his feet. he saw it and he let it lie. meanwhile, rumours were brought in that the falins were coming over from kentucky to wipe out the guard, and so straight were they some- times that the guard was kept perpetually on watch. once while the members were at target practice, the shout arose: “the kentuckians are coming! the ken- tuckians are coming!” and, at double quick, the guard rushed back to find it a false alarm and to see men laughing at them in the street. the truth was that, while the falins had a general hostility against the guard, their particular enmity was concentrated on john hale, as he discovered when june was to take her first trip home one friday the trail of the lonesome pine house, her fellow pupils and of the town at large- and it fairly thrilled her to know that to the falins he was now a tolliver himself. sometimes hale would get her a saddle, and then june would usurp miss anne's place on a horseback-ride up through the gap to see the first blooms of the purple rhododendron on bee rock, or up to morris's farm on powell's moun- tain, from which, with a glass, they could see the lonesome pine. and all the time she worked at her studies tirelessly—and when she was done with her lessons, she read the fairy books that hale got for her—read them until “paul and virginia" fell into her hands, and then there were no more fairy stories for little june. often, late at night, hale, from the porch of his cottage, could see the light of her lamp sending its beam across the dark water of the mill-pond, and finally he got worried by the paleness of her face and sent her to the doc- she went unwillingly, and when she came back she reported placidly that “organatically she was all right, the doctor said,” but hale was glad that vacation would soon come. at the begin- ning of the last week of school he brought a little present for her from new york—a slender neck- lace of gold with a little reddish stone-pendant that was the shape of a cross. hale pulled the trinket from his pocket as they were walking down the river-bank at sunset and the little girl quivered like an aspen-leaf in a sudden puff of wind. tor. the trail of the lonesome pine ‘hit's a fairy-stone,” she cried excitedly. "why, where on earth did you- “why, sister sally told me about 'em. she said folks found 'em somewhere over here in virginny, an' all her life she was a-wishin' fer one an' she never could git it”-her eyes filled—“ seems like ever'thing she wanted is a-comin' to me.” “do you know the story of it, too?” asked hale. june shook her head. “sister sally said it was a luck-piece. nothin' could happen to ye when ye was carryin' it, but it was awful bad luck if you lost it.” hale put it around her neck and fastened the clasp and june kept hold of the little cross with one hand. “well, you mustn't lose it,” he said. “no-no-no,” she repeated breathlessly, and hale told her the pretty story of the stone as they strolled back to supper. the little crosses were to be found only in a certain valley in virginia, so perfect in shape that they seemed to have been chiselled by hand, and they were a great mystery to the men who knew all about rocks—the geol- ogists. “the ge-ol-o-gists,” repeated june. these men said there was no crystallization- nothing like them, amended hale- elsewhere in the world, and that just as crosses were of different shapes—roman, maltese and st. andrew's—so, too, these crosses were found in all these different the trail of the lonesome pine shapes. and the myth-the story-was that this little valley was once inhabited by fairies— june's eyes lighted, for it was a fairy story after all—and that when a strange messenger brought them the news of christ's crucifixion, they wept, and their tears, as they fell to the ground, were turned into tiny crosses of stone. even the indians had some queer feeling about them, and for a long, long time people who found them had used them as charms to bring gooá luck and ward off harm. “and that's for you,” he said, “because you've been such a good little girl and have studied so hard. school's most over now and i reckon you'll be right glad to get home again.” june made no answer, but at the gate she looked suddenly up at him. “have you got one, too ?” she asked, and she seemed much disturbed when hale shook his head. “well, i'll git-get-you one—some day.” “all right,” laughed hale. there was again something strange in her manner as she turned suddenly from him, and what it meant he was soon to learn. it was the last week of school and hale had just come down from the woods behind the school-house at "little recess-time" in the afternoon. the children were playing games outside the gate, and bob and miss anne and the little professor were leaning on the fence watching them. the little man the trail of the lonesome pine raised his hand to halt hale on the plank side- walk. “i've been wanting to see you,” he said in his dreamy, abstracted way. “you prophesied, you know, that i should be proud of your little pro- tégé some day, and i am indeed. she is the most remarkable pupil i've yet seen here, and i have about come to the conclusion that there is no quicker native intelligence in our country than you shall find in the children of these mountain- eers and- miss anne was gazing at the children with an expression that turned hale's eyes that way, and the professor checked his harangue. something had happened. they had been playing “ring around the rosy” and june had been caught. she stood scarlet and tense and the cry was: “who's your beau—who's your beau?” and still she stood with tight lips-aushing. “you got to tell-you got to tell!" the mountain bov, cal heaton, was grinning with fatuous consciousness, and even bob put his hands in his pockets and took on an uneasy smile. "who's your beau?" came the chorus again. the lips opened almost in a whisper, but all could hear: " jack!” " jack who?” but june looked around and saw the four at the gate. almost staggering, she broke from the crowd and, with one forearm across the trail of the lonesome pine her scarlet face, rushed past them into the school- house. miss anne looked at hale's amazed face and she did not smile. bob turned respectfully away, ignoring it all, and the little professor, whose life-purpose was psychology, murmured in his ignorance: “very remarkable—very remarkable!” through that afternoon june kept her hot face close to her books. bob never so much as glanced her way-little gentleman that he was—but the one time she lifted her eyes, she met the mountain lad's bent in a stupor-like gaze upon her. in spite of her apparent studiousness, however, she missed her lesson and, automatically, the little professor told her to stay in after school and recite to miss saunders. and so june and miss anne sat in the school-room alone—the teacher reading a book, and the pupil—her tears unshed—with her sullen face bent over her lesson. in a few mo- ments the door opened and the little professor thrust in his head. the girl had looked so hurt and tired when he spoke to her that some strange sympathy moved him, mystified though he was, to say gently now and with a smile that was rare with him: “you might excuse june, i think, miss saun- ders, and let her recite some time to-morrow, and gently he closed the door. miss anne rose: “very well, june,” she said quietly. june rose, too, gathering up her books, and as the trail of the lonesome pine she passed the teacher's platform she stopped and looked her full in the face. she said not a word, and the tragedy between the woman and the girl was played in silence, for the woman knew from the searching gaze of the girl and the black defi- ance in her eyes, as she stalked out of the room, that her own flush had betrayed her secret as plainly as the girl's words had told hers. through his office window, a few minutes later, hale saw june pass swiftly into the house. in a few minutes she came swiftly out again and went back swiftly toward the school-house. he was so worried by the tense look in her face that he could work no more, and in a few minutes he threw his papers down and followed her. when he turned the corner, bob was coming down the street with his cap on the back of his head and swinging his books by a strap, and the boy looked a little con- scious when he saw hale coming. “have you seen june?” hale asked. “no, sir,” said bob, immensely relieved. “did she come up this way?” “i don't know, but,” bob turned and pointed to the green dome of a big beech. “i think you'll find her at the foot of that tree,' he said. “that's where her play-house is and that's where she goes when she's—that's where she usually goes.” “oh, yes,” said hale—“her play-house. thank you.” the trail of the lonesome pine “not at all, sir.” hale went on, turned from the path and climbed noiselessly. when he caught sight of the beech he stopped still. june stood against it like a wood- nymph just emerged from its sun-dappled trunk -stood stretched to her full height, her hands be- hind her, her hair tossed, her throat tense under the dangling little cross, her face uplifted. at her feet, the play-house was scattered to pieces. she seemed listening to the love-calls of a woodthrush that came faintly through the still woods, and then he saw that she heard nothing, saw nothing—that she was in a dream as deep as sleep. hale's heart throbbed as he looked. “june!” he called softly. she did not hear him, and when he called again, she turned her face—unstartled—and moving her posture not at all. hale pointed to the scattered play-house. “i done it!” she said fiercely—“i done it my- self.” her eyes burned steadily into his, even while she lifted her hands to her hair as though she were only vaguely conscious that it was all undone. “you heerd me?" she cried, and before he could answer—“she heerd me,” and again, not waiting for a word from him, she cried still more fiercely: “i don't keer! i don't keer who knows." her hands were trembling, she was biting her quivering lip to keep back the starting tears, the trail of the lonesome pine and hale rushed toward her and took her in his arms. “june! june!” he said brokenly. brokenly. “you mustn't, little girl. i'm proud-proud—why little sweetheart—” she was clinging to him and looking up into his eyes and he bent his head slowly. their lips met and the man was startled. he knew now it was no child that answered him. hale walked long that night in the moonlit woods up and around imboden hill, along a shadow-haunted path, between silvery beech- trunks, past the big hole in the earth from which dead trees tossed out their crooked arms as if in torment, and to the top of the ridge under which the valley slept and above which the dark bulk of powell's mountain rose. it was absurd, but he found himself strangely stirred. she was a child, he kept repeating to himself, in spite of the fact that he knew she was no child among her own people, and that mountain girls were even wives who were younger still. still, she did not know what she felt-how could she?-and she would get over it, and then came the sharp stab of a doubt-would he want her to get over it ? frankly and with wonder he confessed to himself that he did not know—he did not know. but again, why bother? he had meant to educate her, anyhow. that was the first step—no matter what happened. june must go out into the world to school. he the trail of the lonesome pine would have plenty of money. her father would not object, and june need never know. he could include for her an interest in her own father's coal lands that he meant to buy, and she could think that it was her own money that she was using. so, with a sudden rush of gladness from his brain to his heart, he recklessly yoked himself, then and there, under all responsibility for that young life and the eager, sensitive soul that already lighted it so radiantly. and june? her nature had opened precisely as had bud and flower that spring. the mother of magicians had touched her as impartially as she had touched them with fairy wand, and as un- consciously the little girl had answered as a young dove to any cooing mate. with this hale did not reckon, and this june could not know. for a while, that night, she lay in a delicious tremor, listening to the bird-like chorus of the little frogs in the marsh, the booming of the big ones in the mill-pond, the water pouring over the dam with the sound of a low wind, and, as had all the sleep- ing things of the earth about her, she, too, sank to happy sleep xvi now. the in-sweep of the outside world was broadening its current the im- provement company had been formed to encourage the growth of the town. a safe was put in the back part of a furniture store behind a wooden partition and a bank was started. up through the gap and toward kentucky, more entries were driven into the coal, and on the virginia side were signs of stripping for iron ore. a furnace was coming in just as soon as the railroad could bring it in, and the railroad was pushing ahead with genuine vigor. speculators were trooping in and the town had been divided off into lots-a few of which had already changed hands. one agent had brought in a big steel safe and a tent and was buying coal lands right and left. more young men drifted in from all points of the com- pass. a tent-hotel was put at the foot of imboden hill, and of nights there were under it much poker and song. the lilt of a definite optimism was in every man's step and the light of hope was in every man's eye. and the guard went to its work in earnest. every man now had his winchester, his revolver, the trail of the lonesome pine his billy and his whistle. drilling and target- shooting became a daily practice. bob, who had been a year in a military school, was drill-master for the recruits, and very gravely he performed his duties and put them through the skirmishers' drill—advancing in rushes, throwing themselves in the new grass, and very gravely he commended one enthusiast-none other than the hon. samuel budd—who, rather than lose his position in line, threw himself into a pool of water: all to the sur- prise, scorn and anger of the mountain onlookers, who dwelled about the town. many were the comments the members of the guard heard from them, even while they were at drill. “i'd like to see one o' them fellers hit me with one of them locust posts.' “huh! i could take two good men an' run the whole batch out o' the county. “look at them dudes and furriners. they come into our country and air tryin' to larn us how to run it.” “our boys air only tryin' to have their little fun. they don't mean nothin', but someday some fool young guard'll hurt somebody and then thar'll be hell to pay.” hale could not help feeling considerable sym- pathy for their point of view—particularly when he saw the mountaineers watching the guard at target-practice-each volunteer policeman with his back to the target, and at the word of com- the trail of the lonesome pine mand wheeling and firing six shots in rapid suc- cession and he did not wonder at their snorts of scorn at such bad shooting and their open anger that the guard was practising for them. but sometimes he got an unexpected recruit. one bully, who had been conspicuous in the brickyard trouble, after watching a drill went up to him with a grin: “hell,” he said cheerily, “i believe you fellers air goin' to have more fun than we air, an' danged if i don't jine you, if you'll let me.” “sure," said hale. and others, who might have been bad men, became members and, thus getting a vent for their energies, were as enthusi- astic for the law as they might have been against it. of course, the antagonistic element in the town lost no opportunity to plague and harass the guard, and after the destruction of the “blind tigers,” mischief was naturally concentrated in the high-license saloons—particularly in the one run by jack woods, whose local power for evil and cackling laugh seemed to mean nothing else than close personal communion with old nick himself. passing the door of his saloon one day, bob saw one of jack's customers trying to play pool with a winchester in one hand and an open knife be- tween his teeth, and the boy stepped in and halted. the man had no weapon concealed and was making no disturbance, and bob did not the trail of the lonesome pine know whether or not he had the legal right to arrest him, so he turned, and, while he was stand- ing in the door, jack winked at his customer, who, with a grin, put the back of his knife-blade be- tween bob's shoulders and, pushing, closed it. the boy looked over his shoulder without moving a muscle, but the hon. samuel budd, who came in at that moment, pinioned the fellow's arms from behind and bob took his weapon away. “hell,” said the mountaineer, “i didn't aim to hurt the little feller. i jes' wanted to see if i could skeer him.” “well, brother, 'tis scarce a merry jest,” quoth the hon. sam, and he looked sharply at jack through his big spectacles as the two led the man off to the calaboose: for he suspected that the saloon-keeper was at the bottom of the trick. jack's time came only the next day. he had re- garded it as the limit of indignity when an ordi- nance was up that nobody should blow a whistle except a member of the guard, and it was great fun for him to have some drunken customer blow a whistle and then stand in his door and laugh at the policemen running in from all directions. that day jack tried the whistle himself and hale ran down. “who did that?” he asked. jack felt bold that morning “i blowed it.” hale thought for a moment. the ordinance the trail of the lonesome pine against blowing a whistle had not yet been passed, but he made up his mind that, under the circum- stances, jack's blowing was a breach of the peace, since the guard had adopted that signal. so he said: “you mustn't do that again.” jack had doubtless been going through pre- cisely the same mental process, and, on the nice legal point involved, he seemed to differ. “i'll blow it when i damn please,” he said. “blow it again and i'll arrest you,” said hale. jack blew. he had his right shoulder against the corner of his door at the time, and, when he raised the whistle to his lips, hale drew and cov- ered him before he could make another move. woods backed slowly into his saloon to get behind his counter. hale saw his purpose, and he closed in, taking great risk, as he always did, to avoid bloodshed, and there was a struggle. jack man- aged to get his pistol out; but hale caught him by the wrist and held the weapon away so that it was harmless as far as he was concerned; but a crowd was gathering at the door toward which the saloon-keeper's pistol was pointed, and he feared that somebody out there might be shot; so he called out: “drop that pistol!” the order was not obeyed, and hale raised his right hand high above jack's head and dropped the butt of his weapon on jack's skull-hard. the trail of the lonesome pine jack's head dropped back between his shoulders, his eyes closed and his pistol clicked on the floor. hale knew how serious a thing a blow was in that part of the world, and what excitement it would create, and he was uneasy at jack's trial, for fear that the saloon-keeper's friends would take the matter up; but they didn't, and, to the sur- prise of everybody, jack quietly paid his fine, and thereafter the guard had little active trouble from the town itself, for it was quite plain there, at least, that the guard meant business. across black mountain old dave tolliver and old buck falin had got well of their wounds by this time, and though each swore to have ven- geance against the other as soon as he was able to handle a winchester, both factions seemed wait- ing for that time to come. moreover, the falins, because of a rumour that bad rufe tolliver might come back, and because of devil judd's anger at their attempt to capture young dave, grew wary and rather pacificatory: and so, beyond a little quarrelling, a little threatening and the exchange of a harmless shot or two, sometimes in banter, sometimes in earnest, nothing had been done. sternly, however, though the falins did not know the fact, devil judd continued to hold aloof in spite of the pleadings of young dave, and so con- fident was the old man in the balance of power that lay with him that he sent june word that he was coming to take her home. and, in truth, with the trail of the lonesome plne hale going away again on a business trip and bob, too, gone back home to the bluegrass, and school closed, the little girl was glad to go, and she waited for her father's coming eagerly. miss anne was still there, to be sure, and if she, too, had gone, june would have been more content. the quiet smile of that astute young woman had told hale plainly, and somewhat to his embarrass- ment, that she knew something had happened between the two, but that smile she never gave to june. indeed, she never encountered aught else than the same silent searching gaze from the strangely mature little creature's eves, and when those eyes met the teacher's, always june's hand would wander unconsciously to the little cross at her throat as though to invoke its aid against any- thing that could come between her and its giver. the purple rhododendrons on bee rock had come and gone and the pink-flecked laurels were in bloom when june fared forth one sunny morn- ing of her own birth-month behind old judd tolliver-home. back up through the wild gap they rode in silence, past bee rock, out of the chasm and up the little valley toward the trail of the lonesome pine, into which the father's old sorrel nag, with a switch of her sunburnt tail, turned leftward. june leaned forward a little, and there was the crest of the big tree motionless in the blue high above, and sheltered by one big white cloud. it was the first time she had seen the the trail of the lonesome pine pine since she had first left it, and little tremblings went through her from her bare feet to her bon- neted head. thus was she unclad, for hale had told her that, to avoid criticism, she must go home clothed just as she was when she left lonesome cove. she did not quite understand that, and she carried her new clothes in a bundle in her lap, but she took hale's word unquestioned. so she wore her crimson homespun and her bonnet, with her bronze-gold hair gathered under it in the same old psyche knot. she must wear her shoes, she told hale, until she got out of town, else someone might see her, but hale had said she would be leaving too early for that: and so she had gone from the gap as she had come into it, with un- mittened hands and bare feet. the soft wind was very good to those dangling feet, and she itched to have them on the green grass or in the cool waters through which the old horse splashed. yes, she was going home again, the same june as far as mountain eyes could see, though she had grown perceptibly, and her little face had blossomed from her heart almost into a woman's, but she knew that while her clothes were the same, they covered quite another girl. time wings slowly for the young, and when the sensations are many and the experiences are new, slowly even for all—and thus there was a double reason why it seemed an age to june since her eyes had last rested on the big pine. the trail of the lonesome pine here was the place where hale had put his big black horse into a dead run, and as vivid a thrill of it came back to her now as had been the thrill of the race. then they began to climb labori- ously up the rocky creek—the water singing a joyous welcome to her along the path, ferns and flowers nodding to her from dead leaves and rich mould and peeping at her from crevices between the rocks on the creek-banks as high up as the level of her eyes—up under bending branches full- leafed, with the warm sunshine darting down through them upon her as she passed, and making a playfellow of her sunny hair. here was the place where she had got angry with hale, had slid from his horse and stormed with tears. what a little fool she had been when hale had meant only to be kind! he was never anything but kind- jack was—dear, dear jack! that wouldn't hap- pen no more, she thought, and straightway she corrected that thought. “it won't happen any more,” she said aloud. “whut'd you say, june?" the old man lifted his bushy beard from his chest and turned his head. “nothin', dad,” she said, and old judd, himself in a deep study, dropped back into it again. how often she had said that to herself—that it would happen no more—she had stopped saying it to hale, because he laughed and forgave her, and seemed to love her mood, whether she cried from the trail of the lonesome pine joy or anger—and yet she kept on doing both just the same. several times devil judd stopped to let his horse rest, and each time, of course, the wooded slopes of the mountains stretched downward in longer sweeps of summer green, and across the widening valley the tops of the mountains beyond dropped nearer to the straight level of her eyes, while beyond them vaster blue bulks became visible and ran on and on, as they always seemed, to the farthest limits of the world. even out there, hale had told her, she would go some day. the last curving up-sweep came finally, and there stood the big pine, majestic, unchanged and murmuring in the wind like the undertone of a far-off sea. as they passed the base of it, she reached out her hand and let the tips of her fingers brush caressingly across its trunk, turned quickly for a last look at the sunlit valley and the hills of the outer world and then the two passed into a green gloom of shadow and thick leaves that shut her heart in as suddenly as though some human hand had clutched it. she was going home—to see bub and loretta and uncle billy and “old hon” and her step-mother and dave, and yet she felt vaguely troubled. the valley on the other side was in dazzling sunshine—she had seen that. the sun must still be shining over there—it must be shining above her over here, for here and there shot a sunbeam message from that outer world the trail of the lonesome pine down through the leaves, and yet it seemed that black night had suddenly fallen about her, and helplessly she wondered about it all, with her hands gripped tight and her eyes wide. but the mood was gone when they emerged at the “dead- ening” on the last spur and she saw lonesome cove and the roof of her little home peacefully asleep in the same sun that shone on the valley over the mountain. colour came to her face and her heart beat faster. at the foot of the spur the road had been widened and showed signs of heavy hauling. there was sawdust in the mouth of the creek and, from coal-dust, the water was black. the ring of axes and the shouts of ox-drivers came from the mountain side. up the creek above her father's cabin three or four houses were being built of fresh boards, and there in front of her was a new store. to a fence one side of it two horses were hitched and on one horse was a side-saddle. before the door stood the red fox and uncle billy, the miller, who peered at her for a moment through his big spectacles and gave her a wonder- ing shout of welcome that brought her cousin loretta to the door, where she stopped a moment, anchored with surprise. over her shoulder peered her cousin dave, and june saw his face darken while she looked. “why, honey,” said the old miller, “have ye really come home agin?” while loretta simply said: the trail of the lonesome pine "my lord!” and came out and stood with her hands on her hips looking at june. “why, ye ain't a bit changed! i knowed ye wasn't goin' to put on no airs like dave thar said” -she turned on dave, who, with a surly shrug, wheeled and went back into the store. uncle billy was going home. “come down to see us right away now,” he called back. “ole hon's might nigh crazy to git her eyes on ye.” “all right, uncle billy,” said june, “early ter- morrer.” the red fox did not open his lips, but his pale eyes searched the girl from head to foot. "git down, june,” said loretta, “and i'll walk up to the house with ye. june slid down, devil judd started the old horse, and as the two girls, with their arms about each other's waists, followed, the wolfish side of the red fox's face lifted in an ironical snarl. bub was standing at the gate, and when he saw his father riding home alone, his wistful eyes filled and his cry of disappointment brought the step-mother to the door. "whar's june?" he cried, and june heard him, and loosening herself from loretta, she ran round the horse and had bub in her arms. then she looked up into the eyes of her step-mother. the old woman's face looked kind-so kind that for the first time in her life june did what her father could never get her to do: she called her the trail of the lonesome pine “mammy,” and then she gave that old woman the surprise of her life—she kissed her. right away she must see everything, and bub, in ecstasy, wanted to pilot her around to see the new calf and the new pigs and the new chickens, but dumbly june looked to a miracle that had come to pass to the left of the cabin—a flower-garden, the like of which she had seen only in her dreams. xvii a run. twice her lips opened soundlessly and, dazed, she could only point dumbly. the old step-mother laughed: “ jack hale done that. he pestered yo' pap to let him do it fer ye, an'anything jack hale wants from yo' pap, he gits. i thought hit was plum' foolishness, but he's got things to eat planted thar, too, an' i declar hit's right purty.” that wonderful garden! june started for it on there was a broad grass-walk down through the middle of it and there were narrow grass-walks running sidewise, just as they did in the gardens which hale told her he had seen in the outer world. the flowers were planted in raised beds, and all the ones that she had learned to know and love at the gap were there, and many more besides. the hollyhocks, bachelor's buttons and marigolds she had known all her life. the lilacs, touch-me-nots, tulips and narcissus she had learned to know in gardens at the gap. two rose-bushes were in bloom, and there were -strange grasses and plants and flowers that jack would tell her about when he came. one side was sentinelled by sun-flowers and another side by transplanted laurel and rhododendron shrubs; the trail of the lonesome pine and hidden in the plant-and-flower-bordered squares were the vegetables that won her step- mother's tolerance of hale's plan. through and through june walked, her dark eyes flashing joyously here and there when they were not a little dimmed with tears, with loretta following her, unsympathetic in appreciation, wondering that june should be making such a fuss about a lot of flowers, but envious withal when she half guessed the reason, and impatient bub eager to show her other births and changes. and, over and over all the while, june was whispering to herself: “my garden—my garden!” when she came back to the porch, after a tour through all that was new or had changed, dave had brought his horse and loretta's to the gate. no, he wouldn't come in and “rest a spell”— “they must be gittin' along home,” he said shortly. but old judd tolliver insisted that he should stay to dinner, and dave tied the horses to the fence and walked to the porch, not lifting his eyes to june. straightway the girl went into the house to help her step-mother with dinner, but the old woman told her she “reckoned she needn't start in yit”—adding in the querulous tone june knew so well: “i've been mighty po'ly, an' thar'll be a mighty lot fer you to do now.” so with this direful proph- ecy in her ears the girl hesitated. the old woman looked at her closely. the trail of the lonesome pine "ye ain't a bit changed,” she said. they were the words loretta had used, and in the voice of each was the same strange tone of dis- appointment. june wondered: were they sorry she had not come back putting on airs and fussed up with ribbons and feathers that they might hear her picked to pieces and perhaps do some of the picking themselves ? not loretta, surely—but the old step-mother! june left the kitchen and sat down just inside the door. the red fox and two other men had sauntered up from the store and all were listening to his quavering chat: “i seed a vision last night, and thar's trouble a-comin' in these mountains. the lord told me so straight from the clouds. these railroads and coal-mines is a-goin' to raise taxes, so that a pore man'll have to sell his hogs and his corn to pay 'em an' have nothin' left to keep him from starv- in' to death. them police-fellers over thar at the gap is a-stirrin' up strife and a-runnin' things over thar as though the earth was made fer 'em, an' the citizens ain't goin' to stand it. an' this war's a-comin' on an' thar'll be shootin' an' killin' over thar an' over hyeh. i seed all this devilment in a vision last night, as shore as i'm settin' hyeh.” old judd grunted, shifted his huge shoulders, parted his mustache and beard with two fingers and spat through them. “well, i reckon you didn't see no devilment, red, that you won't take a hand in, if it comes.” the trail of the lonesome pine the other men laughed, but the red fox looked meek and lowly. “i'm a servant of the lord. he says do this, an' i does it the best i know how. i goes about a-preachin' the word in the wilderness an'a-heal- in' the sick with soothin' yarbs and sech.' “an' a-makin' compacts with the devil,” said old judd shortly, “when the eye of man is a-lookin' t'other way.” the left side of the red fox's face twitched into the faintest shadow of a snarl, but, shaking his head, he kept still. “well,” said sam barth, who was thin and long and sandy, “i don't keer what them fellers do on t'other side o' the mountain, but what air they a-comin' over here fer?" old judd spoke again. “to give you a job, if you wasn't too durned lazy to work.” “yes," said the other man, who was dark, swarthy and whose black eyebrows met across the bridge of his nose—"and that damned hale, who's a-tearin' up hellfire here in the cove.” the old man lifted his eyes. young dave's face wore a sudden malignant sympathy which made june clench her hands a little more tightly. “what about him? you must have been over to the gap lately—like dave thar—did board in the calaboose?" it was a random thrust, but it was accurate and it went home, and there was silence for a while. presently old judd went on: you git the trail of the lonesome pine "taxes hain't goin' to be raised, and if they are, folks will be better able to pay 'em. them police-fellers at the gap don't bother nobody if he behaves himself. this war will start when it does start, an' as for hale, he's as square an’ clever a feller as i've ever seed. his word is just as good as his bond. i'm a-goin' to sell him this land. it'll be his'n, an' he can do what he wants to with it. i'm his friend, and i'm goin' to stay his friend as long as he goes on as he's goin' now, an' i'm not goin' to see him bothered as long as he tends to his own business.' the words fell slowly and the weight of them rested heavily on all except on june. her fingers loosened and she smiled. the red fox rose, shaking his head. “all right, judd tolliver,” he said warningly. “come in and git something to eat, red.” “no,” he said, “i'll be gittin' along”—and he went, still shaking his head. the table was covered with an oil-cloth spotted with drippings from a candle. the plates and cups were thick and the spoons were of pewter. the bread was soggy and the bacon was thick and floating in grease. the men ate and the women served, as in ancient days. they gobbled their food like wolves, and when they drank their coffee, the noise they made was painful to june's there were no napkins and when her father pushed his chair back, he wiped his drip- ears. the trail of the lonesome pine ping mouth with the back of his sleeve. and loretta and the step-mother—they, too, ate with their knives and used their fingers. poor june quivered with a vague newborn disgust. ah, had she not changed—in ways they could not see! june helped clear away the dishes—the old woman did not object to that-listening to the gos- sip of the mountains—courtships, marriages, births, deaths, the growing hostility in the feud, the random killing of this man or that-hale's doings in lonesome cove. “he's comin' over hyeh agin next saturday,” said the old woman. “is he?” said loretta in a way that made june turn sharply from her dishes toward her. she knew hale was not coming, but she said nothing. the old woman was lighting her pipe. “yes—you better be over hyeh in yo’ best bib and tucker.” “pshaw," said loretta, but june saw two bright spots come into her pretty cheeks, and she herself burned inwardly. the old woman was looking at her. “?pears like you air mighty quiet, june.” “that's so," said loretta, looking at her, too. june, still silent, turned back to her dishes. they were beginning to take notice after all, for the girl hardly knew that she had not opened her lips. once only dave spoke to her, and that was the trail of the lonesome pine when loretta said she must go. june was out in the porch looking at the already beloved garden, and hearing his step she turned. he looked her steadily in the eyes. she saw his gaze drop to the fairy-stone at her throat, and a faint sneer ap- peared at his set mouth—a sneer for june's folly and what he thought was uppishness in “furri- ners” like hale. “so you ain't good enough fer him jest as ye air-air ye?” he said slowly. he's got to make ye all over agin-so's you'll be fitten fer him.” he turned away without looking to see how deep his barbed shaft went and, startled, june flushed to her hair. in a few minutes they were gone-dave without the exchange of another word with june, and loretta with a parting cry that she would come back on saturday. the old man went to the cornfield high above the cabin, the old woman, groaning with pains real and fancied, lay down on a creaking bed, and june, with dave's wound rankling, went out with bub to see the new doings in lonesome cove. the geese cackled before her, the hog-fish darted like submarine arrows from rock to rock and the willows bent in the same wistful way toward their shadows in the little stream, but its crystal depths were there no longer-floating sawdust whirled in eddies on the surface and the water was black as soot. here and there the white belly of a fish lay up- turned to the sun, for the cruel, deadly work of the trail of the lonesome pine civilization had already begun. farther up the creek was a buzzing monster that, creaking and snorting, sent a flashing disk, rimmed with sharp teeth, biting a savage way through a log, that screamed with pain as the brutal thing tore through its vitals, and gave up its life each time with a ghost-like cry of agony. farther on little houses were being built of fresh boards, and far- ther on the water of the creek got blacker still. june suddenly clutched bud's arms. two de- mons had appeared on a pile of fresh dirt above them—sooty, begrimed, with black faces and black hands, and in the cap of each was a smoking little lamp. “huh,” said bub, “that ain't nothin'! hello, bill," he called bravely. “hello, bub," answered one of the two de- mons, and both stared at the lovely little appari- tion who was staring with such naive horror at them. it was all very wonderful, though, and it was all happening in lonesome cove, but jack hale was doing it all and, therefore, it was all right, thought june—no matter what dave said. moreover, the ugly spot on the great, beautiful breast of the mother was such a little one after all and june had no idea how it must spread. above the opening for the mines, the creek was crystal- clear as ever, the great hills were the same, and the sky and the clouds, and the cabin and the fields of corn. nothing could happen to them, but if even the trail of the lonesome pine it was they were wiped out by hale's hand she would have made no complaint. a wood-thrush flitted from a ravine as she and bub went back down the creek—and she stopped with uplifted face to listen. all her life she had loved its song, and this was the first time she had heard it in lonesome cove since she had learned its name from hale. she had never heard it thereafter without thinking of him, and she thought of him now while it was breathing out the very spirit of the hills, and she drew a long sigh for already she was lonely and hungering for him. the song ceased and a long wavering cry came from the cabin. “so-o-o-cow! s-o-o-kee! s-o-o-kee!” the old mother was calling the cows. near milking-time, and with a vague uneasiness she hurried bub home. she saw her father coming down from the cornfield. she saw the two cows come from the woods into the path that led to the barn, switching their tails and snatching mouth- fuls from the bushes as they swung down the hill and, when she reached the gate, her step-mother was standing on the porch with one hand on her hip and the other shading her eyes from the slant- ing sun—waiting for her. already kindness and consideration were gone. “whar you been, june? hurry up, now. . you've had a long restin'-spell while i've been a-workin' myself to death.” it was the old tone, and the old fierce rebellion the trail of the lonesome pine / rose within june, but hale had told her to be patient. she could not check the flash from her eyes, but she shut her lips tight on the answer that sprang to them, and without a word she went to the kitchen for the milking-pails. the cows had forgotten her. they eyed her with suspicion and were restive. the first one kicked at her when she put her beautiful head against its soft flank. her muscles had been in disuse and her hands were cramped and her forearms ached before she was through—but she kept doggedly at her task. when she finished, her father had fed the horses and was standing behind her. “hit's mighty good to have you back agin, little gal.” it was not often that he smiled or showed ten- derness, much less spoke it thus openly, and june was doubly glad that she had held her tongue. then she helped her step-mother get supper. the fire scorched her face, that had grown unaccus- tomed to such heat, and she burned one hand, but she did not let her step-mother see even that. again she noticed with aversion the heavy thick dishes and the pewter spoons and the candle- grease on the oil-cloth, and she put the dishes down and, while the old woman was out of the room, attacked the spots viciously. again she saw her father and bub ravenously gobbling their coarse food while she and her step-mother served and waited, and she began to wonder. the women the trail of the lonesome pine sat at the table with the men over in the gap- why not here? then her father went silently to his pipe and bub to playing with the kitten at the kitchen-door, while she and her mother ate with never a word. something began to stifle her, but she choked it down. there were the dishes to be cleared away and washed, and the pans and kettles to be cleaned. her back ached, her arms were tired to the shoulders and her burned hand quivered with pain when all was done. the old woman had left her to do the last few little things alone and had gone to her pipe. both she and her father were sitting in silence on the porch when june went out there. neither spoke to each other, nor to her, and both seemed to be part of the awful stillness that engulfed the world. bub fell asleep in the soft air, and june sat and sat and sat. that was all except for the stars that came out over the mountains and were slowly being sprayed over the sky, and the pipings of frogs from the little creek. once the wind came with a sudden sweep up the river and she thought she could hear the creak of uncle billy's water-wheel. it smote her with sudden gladness, not so much because it was a relief and because she loved the old miller, but-such is the power of association-because she now loved the mill more, loved it because the mill over in the gap had made her think more of the mill at the mouth of lonesome cove. a tap- ping vibrated through the railing of the porch on the trail of the lonesome pine which her cheek lay. her father was knocking the ashes from his pipe. a similar tapping sounded inside at the fireplace. the old woman had gone and bub was in bed, and she had heard neither move. the old man rose with a yawn. “time to lay down, june.” the girl rose. they all slept in one room. she did not dare to put on her night-gown—her mother would see it in the morning. so she slipped off her dress, as she had done all her life, and crawled into bed with bub, who lay in the middle of it and who grunted peevishly when she pushed him with some difficulty over to his side. there were no sheets-not even one and the coarse blankets, which had a close acrid odour that she had never noticed before, seemed almost to scratch her flesh. she had hardly been to bed that early since she had left home, and she lay sleepless, watching the firelight play hide and seek with the shadows among the aged, smoky rafters and ficker over the strings of dried things that hung from the ceil- ing. in the other corner her father and step- mother snored heartily, and bub, beside her, was in a nerveless slumber that would not come to her that night—tired and aching as she was. so, quietly, by and by, she slipped out of bed and out the door to the porch. the moon was rising and the radiant sheen of it had dropped down over the mountain side like a golden veil and was lighting up the white rising mists that trailed the curves of the trail of the lonesome pine the river. it sank below the still crests of the pines beyond the garden and dropped on until it illu- mined, one by one, the dewy heads of the flowers. she rose and walked down the grassy path in her bare feet through the silent fragrant emblems of the planter's thought of her—touching this flower and that with the tips of her fingers. and when she went back, she bent to kiss one lovely rose and, as she lifted her head with a start of fear, the dew from it shining on her lips made her red mouth as flower-like and no less beautiful. a yell had shattered the quiet of the world—not the high fox-hunting yell of the mountains, but something new and strange. up the creek were strange lights. a loud laugh shattered the succeeding stillness—a laugh she had never heard before in lonesome cove. swiftly she ran back to the porch. surely strange things were happening there. a strange spirit pervaded the cove and the very air throbbed with premonitions. what was the matter with everything—what was the matter with her? she knew that she was lonely and that she wanted hale—but what else was it? she shivered—and not alone from the chill night- air—and puzzled and wondering and stricken at heart, she crept back to bed. xviii pausing at the pine to let his big black horse blow a while, hale mounted and rode slowly down the green-and-gold gloom of the ravine. in his pocket was a quaint little letter from june to john hail”; thanking him for the beautiful gar- den, saying she was lonely, and wanting him to come soon. from the low flank of the mountain he stopped, looking down on the cabin in lone- some cove. it was a dreaming summer day. trees, air, blue sky and white cloud were all in a dream, and even the smoke lazing from the chimney seemed drifting away like the spirit of something human that cared little whither it might be borne. something crimson emerged from the door and stopped in indecision on the steps of the porch. it moved again, stopped at the corner of the house, and then, moving on with a purpose, stopped once more and began to flicker slowly to and fro like a flame. june was working in her garden. hale thought he would halloo to her, and then he decided to surprise her, and he went on down, hitched his horse and stole up to the garden fence. on the way he pulled up a bunch of weeds by the roots and with them in his arms he noiselessly climbed the fence. june neither she said with grave rebuke, and the trail of the lonesome pine heard nor saw him. her underlip was clenched tight between her teeth, the little cross swung violently at her throat and she was so savagely wielding the light hoe he had given her that he thought at first she must be killing a snake; but she was only fighting to death every weed that dared to show its head. her feet and her head were bare, her face was moist and flushed and her hair was a tumbled heap of what was to him the rarest gold under the sun. the wind was still, the leaves were heavy with the richness of full growth, bees were busy about june's head and not another soul was in sight “good morning, little girl!” he called cheerily. the hoe was arrested at the height of a vicious stroke and the little girl whirled without a cry, but the blood from her pumping heart crimsoned her face and made her eyes shine with gladness. her eyes went to her feet and her hands to her hair. “you oughtn't to slip up an’s-startle a lady that-a-way, hale looked humbled. “now you just set there and wait till i come back." 'no-no—i want you to stay just as you are." “honest?" hale gravely crossed heart and body and june gave out a happy little laugh—for he had caught that gesture-a favourite one—from her. then suddenly: the trail of the lonesome pine “how long?” she was thinking of what dave said, but the subtle twist in her meaning passed hale by. he raised his eyes to the sun and june shook her head. “you got to go home 'fore sundown.” she dropped her hoe and came over toward him. “whut you doin' with them—those weeds ?” going to plant 'em in our garden.” hale had got a theory from a garden-book that the humble burdock, pig-weed and other lowly plants were good for ornamental effect, and he wanted to ex- periment, but june gave a shrill whoop and fell to scornful laughter. then she snatched the weeds from him and threw them over the fence. “why, june!” “not in my garden. them's stagger-weeds they kill cows," and she went off again. “i reckon you better c-consult me 'bout weeds next time. i don't know much 'bout flowers, but i've knowed all my life 'bout weeds.” she laid so much emphasis on the word that hale wondered for the moment if her words had a deeper mean- ing—but she went on: “ever' spring i have to watch the cows fer two weeks to keep 'em from eatin'—those weeds." her self-corrections were always made gravely now, and hale consciously ignored them except when he had something to tell her that she ought to know. everything, it seemed, she wanted to know. the trail of the lonesome pine “do they really kill cows ?” june snapped her fingers: "like that. but you just come on here,” she added with pretty imperiousness. "i want to axe-ask you some things—what's that?” "scarlet sage.” “scarlet sage,” repeated june. "an' that?" “nasturtium, and that's oriental grass.' “nas-tur-tium, oriental. an' what's that vine?" “that comes from north africa—they call it 'matrimonial vine."" “whut fer?” asked june quickly. “because it clings so.” hale smiled, but june saw none of his humour—the married people she knew clung till the finger of death unclasped them. she pointed to a bunch of tall tropical-looking plants with great spreading leaves and big green- white stalks. “they're called palmæ christi.” “whut?” “that's latin. it means 'hands of christ,'” said hale with reverence. “you see how the leaves are spread out—don't they look like hands ?' “not much,” said june frankly. “what's latin ?" “oh, that's a dead language that some people used a long, long time ago." “what do folks use it nowadays fer? why don't they just say ‘hands o’ christ'?" the trail of the lonesome pine “i don't know,” he said helplessly, “but maybe you'll study latin some of these days.” june shook her head. “gettin' your language is a big enough job fer me,” she said with such quaint seriousness that hale could not laugh. she looked up suddenly. "you been a long time git-gettin' over here." “yes, and now you want to send me home before sundown." “i'm afeer-i'm afraid for you. have you got a gun?” hale tapped his breast-pocket. always. what are you afraid of ?” “the falins.” she clenched her hands. “i'd like to see one o' them falins tech ye,” she added fiercely, and then she gave a quick look at the sun. “you better go now, jack. i'm afraid fer you. where's your horse?” hale waved his hand. “down there. all right, little girl,” he said. "i ought to go, anyway. and, to humour her, he started for the gate. there he bent to kiss her, but she drew back. “i'm afraid of dave," she said, but she leaned on the gate and looked long at him with wistful eyes. "jack," she said, and her eyes swam suddenly, "it'll most kill me—but i reckon you better not come over here much.” hale made light of it all. “nonsense, i'm coming just as often as i can.' june smiled then. the trail of the lonesome pine "all right. i'll watch out fer ye.” he went down the path, her eyes following him, and when he looked back from the spur he saw her sitting in the porch and watching that she might wave him farewell. hale could not go over to lonesome cove much that summer, for he was away from the mountains a good part of the time, and it was a weary, rack- ing summer for june when he was not there. the step-mother was a stern taskmistress, and the girl worked hard, but no night passed that she did not spend an hour or more on her books, and by de- grees she bribed and stormed bub into learning his a, b, c's and digging at a blue-back spelling book. but all through the day there were times when she could play with the boy in the garden, and every afternoon, when it was not raining, she would slip away to a little ravine behind the cabin, where a log had fallen across a little brook, and there in the cool, sun-pierced shadows she would study, read and dream—with the water bubbling underneath and wood-thrushes singing overhead. for hale kept her well supplied with books. he had given her children's books at first, but she outgrew them when the first love-story fell into her hands, and then he gave her novels-good, old ones and the best of the new ones, and they were to her what water is to a thing athirst. but the happy days were when hale was there. she had a thousand questions for him to answer, whenever the trail of the lonesome pine to himself. and no more now were there any breaking-downs within her—there was only a calm faith that staggered him and gave him an ever-mounting sense of his responsibility for what- ever might, through the part he had taken in moulding her life, be in store for her. when he was not there, life grew a little easier for her in time, because of her dreams, the pa- tience that was built from them and hale's kindly words, the comfort of her garden and her books, and the blessed force of habit. for as time went on, she got consciously used to the rough life, the coarse food and the rude ways of her own people and her own home. and though she relaxed not a bit in her own dainty cleanliness, the shrinking that she felt when she first arrived home, came to her at longer and longer intervals. once a week she went down to uncle billy's, where she watched the water-wheel dripping sun-jewels into the sluice, the kingfisher darting like a blue bolt upon his prey, and listening to the lullaby that the water played to the sleepy old mill-and stopping, both ways, to gossip with old hon in her porch under the honeysuckle vines. uncle billy saw the change in her and he grew vaguely uneasy about her- she dreamed so much, she was at times so restless, she asked so many questions he could not answer, and she failed to ask so many that were on the tip of her tongue. he saw that while her body was at home, her thoughts rarely were; and it all haunted the trail of the lonesome pine him with a vague sense that he was losing her. but old hon laughed at him and told him he was an old fool and to “git another pair o' specs" and maybe he could see that the "little gal” was in love. this startled uncle billy, for he was so like a father to june that he was as slow as a father in recognizing that his child has grown to such absurd maturity. but looking back to the beginning—how the little girl had talked of the “furriner” who had come into lonesome cove all during the six months he was gone; how gladly she had gone away to the gap to school, how anx- ious she was to go still farther away again, and, remembering all the strange questions she asked him about things in the outside world of which he knew nothing-uncle billy shook his head in con- firmation of his own conclusion, and with all his soul he wondered about hale—what kind of a man he was and what his purpose was with june—and of every man who passed his mill he never failed to ask if he knew “that ar man hale" and what he knew. all he had heard had been in hale's favour, except from young dave tolliver, the red fox or from any falin of the crowd, which hale had prevented from capturing dave. their state- ments bothered him—especially the red fox's evil hints and insinuations about hale's purposes one day at the mill. the miller thought of them all the afternoon and all the way home, and when he sat down at his fire his eyes very naturally and the trail of the lonesome pine simply rose to his old rifle over the door—and then he laughed to himself so loudly that old hon heard him. “air you goin' crazy, billy?” she asked. “whut you studyin' 'bout?” “nothin'; i was jest a-thinkin' devil judd wouldn't leave a grease-spot of him.” “you air goin' crazy—who's him?" “uh-nobody," said uncle billy, and old hon turned with a shrug of her shoulders—she was tired of all this talk about the feud. all that summer young dave tolliver hung around lonesome cove. he would sit for hours in devil judd's cabin, rarely saying anything to june or to anybody, though the girl felt that she hardly made a move that he did not see, and while he disappeared when hale came, after a surly grunt of acknowledgment to hale's cheerful greet- ing, his perpetual espionage began to anger june. never, however, did he put himself into words until hale's last visit, when the summer had waned and it was nearly time for june to go away again to school . as usual, dave had left the house when hale came, and an hour after hale was gone she went to the little ravine with a book in her hand, and there the boy was sitting on her log, his elbows dug into his legs midway between thigh and knee, his chin in his hands, his slouched hat over his black eyes—every line of him pictur- ing angry, sullen dejection. she would have the trail of the lonesome pine slipped away, but he heard her and lifted his head and stared at her without speaking. then he slowly got off the log and sat down on a moss- covered stone. “ 'scuse me,” he said with elaborate sarcasm. “this bein' yo' school-house over hyeh, an' me not bein' a scholar, i reckon i'm in your way.' “how do you happen to know hit’s my school- house?” asked june quietly. “i've seed you hyeh." “ jus' as i s'posed.” “you an' him." "jus' as i s'posed,” she repeated, and a spot of red came into each cheek. “but we didn't see you.” young dave laughed. "well, everybody don't always see me when i'm seein' them.” "no," she said unsteadily. “so, you've been sneakin' around through the woods a-spyin' on me—sneakin' an' spyin',” she repeated so sear- ingly that dave looked at the ground suddenly, picked up a pebble confusedly and shot it in the water. “i had a mighty good reason,” he said doggedly. "ef he'd been up to some of his furrin' tricks- june stamped the ground. “don't you think i kin take keer o' myself ?" “no, i don't. i never seed a gal that could- with one o' them furriners." “huh!” she said scornfully. “you seem to set the trail of the lonesome pine marry him.” a mighty big store by the decency of yo' own kin.' dave was silent. “he ain't up to no tricks. an' whut do you reckon dad 'ud be doin' while you was pertecting me?” “air ye goin' away to school ?” he asked sud- denly. june hesitated. “well, seein'as hit's none o'yo'business—i am." “air ye goin' to marry him?" “he ain't axed me. the boy's face turned red as a flame. “ye air honest with me, an' now i'm goin' to be honest with you. you hain't never goin' to “mebbe you think i'm goin' to marry you." a mist of rage swept before the lad's eyes so that he could hardly see, but he repeated steadily: “you hain't goin' to marry him." june looked at the boy long and steadily, but his black eyes never wavered—she knew what he meant. “an’ he kept the falins from killin' you,” she said, quivering with indignation at the shame of him, but dave went on unheeding: “you pore little fool! do ye reckon as how he's ever goin' to axe ye to marry him? whut's he sendin' you away fer? because you hain't good enough fer him! whar's yo' pride? you hain't good enough fer him," he repeated scath- ingly. june had grown calm now. “i know it,” she said quietly, “but i'm goin' to try to be.” the trail of the lonesome pine ye.” dave rose then in impotent fury and pointed one finger at her. his black eyes gleamed like a demon's and his voice was hoarse with resolution and rage, but it was tolliver against tolliver now, and june answered him with contemptuous fear- lessness. “you hain't never goin' to marry him.” “an' he kept the falins from killin' “yes,” he retorted savagely at last, “an' i kept the falins from killin' him," and he stalked away, leaving june blanched and wondering. it was true. only an hour before, as hale turned up the mountain that very afternoon at the mouth of lonesome cove, young dave had called to him from the bushes and stepped into the road. "you air goin' to court monday ?” he said. “yes," said hale. “well, you better take another road this time,” he said quietly. “three o' the falins will be waitin' in the lorrel somewhar on the road to lay- way ye.” hale was dumfounded, but he knew the boy spoke the truth. “look here,” he said impulsively, “i've got nothing against you, and i hope you've got noth- ing against me. i'm much obliged—let's shake hands!” the boy turned sullenly away with a dogged shake of his head. “i was beholden to you,” he said with dignity, yor “ you hain't never goin' to marry him." the trail of the lonesome pine “an' i warned you 'bout them falins to git even with you. we're quits now.” hale started to speak—to say that the lad was not beholden to him—that he would as quickly have protected a falin, but it would have only made matters worse. moreover, he knew pre- cisely what dave had against him, and that, too, was no matter for discussion. so he said simply and sincerely: “i'm sorry we can't be friends." “no,” dave gritted out, “not this side o’ heaven-or hell.” xix nd still farther into that far silence about an which she used to dream at the base of the big pine, went little june. at dusk, weary and travel-stained, she sat in the parlours of a hotel- a great gray columned structure of stone. she was confused and bewildered and her head ached. the journey had been long and tiresome. the swift motion of the train had made her dizzy and faint. the dust and smoke had almost stifled her, and even now the dismal parlours, rich and won- derful as they were to her unaccustomed eyes, oppressed her deeply. if she could have one more breath of mountain air! the day had been too full of wonders. impres- sions had crowded on her sensitive brain so thick and fast that the recollection of them was as through a haze. she had never been on a train before and when, as it crashed ahead, she clutched hale's arm in fear and asked how they stopped it, hale hearing the whistle blow for a station, said: “i'll show you," and he waved one hand out the window. and he repeated this trick twice before she saw that it was a joke. all day he had soothed her uneasiness in some such way and all day he watched her with an amused smile that was puz- the trail of the lonesome pine set- zling to her. she remembered sadly watching the mountains dwindle and disappear, and when sev- eral of her own people who were on the train were left at way-stations, it seemed as though all links that bound her to her home were broken. the face of the country changed, the people changed in looks, manners and dress, and she shrank closer to hale with an increasing sense of painful loneli- ness. these level fields and these farm-houses so strangely built, so varied in colour were the“ tlemints,” and these people so nicely dressed, so clean and fresh-looking were “furriners.” at one station a crowd of school-girls had got on board and she had watched them with keen interest, mysti- fied by their incessant chatter and gayety. and at last had come the big city, with more smoke, more dust, more noise, more confusion and she was in his world. that was the thought that comforted her-it was his world, and now she sat alone in the dismal parlours while hale was gone to find his sister-waiting and trembling at the ordeal, close upon her, of meeting helen hale. below, hale found his sister and her maid reg- istered, and a few minutes later he led miss hale into the parlour. as they entered june rose without advancing, and for a moment the two stood facing each other—the still roughly clad, primitive mountain girl and the exquisite modern woman-in an embarrassment equally painful to both. the trail of the lonesome pine “june, this is my sister." at a loss what to do, helen hale simply stretched out her hand, but drawn by june's timidity and the quick admiration and fear in her eyes, she leaned suddenly forward and kissed her. a grate- ful flush overspread the little girl's features and the pallor that instantly succeeded went straight- way to the sister's heart. “you are not well,” she said quickly and kindly. “you must go to your room at once. i am going to take care of to take care of you—you are my little sister now." june lost the subtlety in miss hale's emphasis, but she fell with instant submission under such gentle authority, and though she could say nothing, her eyes glistened and her lips quivered, and with- out looking to hale, she followed his sister out of the room. hale stood still. he had watched the meeting with apprehension and now, surprised and grateful, he went to helen's parlour and waited with a hopeful heart. when his sister entered, he rose eagerly: "well—” he said, stopping suddenly, for there were tears of vexation, dismay and genuine dis- tress on his sister's face. “oh, jack,” she cried, “how could you! how could you!” hale bit his lips, turned and paced the room. he had hoped too much and yet what else could he have expected ? his sister and june knew as the trail of the lonesome pine little about each other and each other's lives as though they had occupied different planets. he had forgotten that helen must be shocked by june's inaccuracies of speech and in a hundred other ways to which he had become accustomed. with him, moreover, the process had been gradual and, moreover, he had seen beneath it all. and yet he had foolishly expected helen to understand everything at once. he was unjust, so very wisely he held himself in silence. “where is her baggage, jack?” helen had opened her trunk and was lifting out the lid. “she ought to change those dusty clothes at once. you'd better ring and have it sent right up.' “no,” said hale, “i will go down and see about it myself.” he returned presently—his face aflame—with june's carpet-bag. “i believe this is all she has,” he said quietly. in spite of herself helen's grief changed to a fit of helpless laughter and, afraid to trust himself further, hale rose to leave the room. at the door he was met by the negro maid. “miss helen,” she said with an open smile, “miss june say she don't want nuttin'.” hale gave her a fiery look and hurried out. june was seated at a window when he went into her room with her face buried in her arms. she lifted her head, dropped it, and he saw that her eyes were red with weeping the trail of the lonesome pine “don't you “are you sick, little girl ?” he asked anxiously. june shook her head helplessly. “you aren't homesick, are you?” “no.” the answer came very faintly. like my sister ?” the head bowed an emphatic “yes-yes.” “then what is the matter?” “oh,” she said despairingly, between her sobs, “she-won't-like-me. i never-can-be-like her." hale smiled, but her grief was so sincere that he leaned over her and with a tender hand soothed her into quiet. then he went to helen again and he found her overhauling dresses. “i brought along several things of different sizes and i am going to try at any rate. oh,” she added hastily, “only of course until she can get some clothes of her own.” “sure," said hale, “but” his sister waved one hand and again hale kept still. june had bathed her eyes and was lying down when helen entered, and she made not the slight- est objection to anything the latter proposed. straightway she fell under as complete subjection to her as she had done to hale. without a mo- ment's hesitation she drew off her rudely fashioned dress and stood before helen with the utmost sim- plicity-her beautiful arms and throat bare and her hair falling about them with the rich gold of a cloud at an autumn sunset. dressed, she could the trail of the lonesome pine hardly breathe, but when she looked at herself in the mirror, she trembled. magic transformation! apparently the chasm between the two had been bridged in a single instant. helen herself was astonished and again her heart warmed toward the girl, when a little later, she stood timidly under hale's scrutiny, eagerly watching his face and flushing rosy with happiness under his brightening look. her brother had not exaggerated—the little girl was really beautiful. when they went down to the dining-room, there was another surprise for helen hale, for june's timidity was gone and to the wonder of the woman, she was clothed with an impassive reserve that in herself would have been little less than haughtiness and was astound- ing in a child. she saw, too, that the change in the girl's bearing was unconscious and that the presence of strangers had caused it. it was plain that june's timidity sprang from her love of hale --her fear of not pleasing him and not pleasing her, his sister, and plain, too, that remarkable self- poise was little june's to command. at the table june kept her eyes fastened on helen hale. not a movement escaped her and she did nothing that was not done by one of the others first. she said nothing, but if she had to answer a question, she spoke with such care and precision that she almost seemed to be using a foreign language. miss hale smiled but with inward approval, and that night she was in better spirits. the trail of the lonesome pine jack," she said, when he came to bid her good-night, “i think we'd better stay here a few days. i thought of course you were exaggerating, but she is very, very lovely. and that manner of hers—well, it passes my understanding. just leave everything to me." hale was very willing to do that. he had all trust in his sister's judgment, he knew her dislike of interference, her love of autocratic supervision, so he asked no questions, but in grateful relief kissed her good-night. the sister sat for a long time at her window after he was gone. her brother had been long away from civilization; he had become infatuated, the girl loved him, he was honourable and in his heart he meant to marry her—that was to her the whole story. she had been mortified by the mis- step, but the misstep made, only one thought had occurred to her—to help him all she could. she had been appalled when she first saw the dusty shrinking mountain girl, but the helpless- ness and the loneliness of the tired little face touched her, and she was straightway responsive to the mute appeal in the dark eyes that were lifted to her own with such modest fear and wonder. now her surprise at her brother's infatuation was abating rapidly. the girl's adoration of him, her wild beauty, her strange winning personality—as rare and as independent of birth and circum- stances as genius—had soon made that phenom- the trail of the lonesome pine enon plain. and now what was to be done? the girl was quick, observant, imitative, docile, and in the presence of strangers, her gravity of manner gave the impression of uncanny self-possession. it really seemed as though anything might be pos- sible. at helen's suggestion, then, the three stayed where they were for a week, for june's wardrobe was sadly in need of attention. so the week was spent in shopping, driving, and walking, and rapidly as it passed for helen and hale it was to june the longest of her life, so filled was it with a thousand sensations unfelt by them. the city had been stirred by the spirit of the new south, but the charm of the old was distinct everywhere. architectural eccentricities had startled the sleepy maple-shaded rows of comfortable uniform dwell- ings here and there, and in some streets the life was brisk; but it was still possible to see pedes- trians strolling with unconscious good-humour around piles of goods on the sidewalk, business men stopping for a social chat on the streets, street-cars moving independent of time, men in- variably giving up their seats to women, and, strangers or not, depositing their fare for them; the drivers at the courteous personal service of each patron of the road—now holding a car and placidly whistling while some lady who had sig- nalled from her doorway went back indoors for some forgotten article, now twisting the reins around the brakes and leaving a parcel in some the trail of the lonesome pine yard—and no one grumbling! but what was to hale an atmosphere of amusing leisure was to june bewildering confusion. to her his amuse- ment was unintelligible, but though in constant wonder at everything she saw, no one would ever have suspected that she was making her first acquaintance with city scenes. at first the calm unconcern of her companions had puzzled her. she could not understand how they could walk along, heedless of the wonderful visions that beckoned to her from the shop-windows; fearless of the strange noises about them and scarcely no- ticing the great crowds of people, or the strange shining vehicles that thronged the streets. but she had quickly concluded that it was one of the demands of that new life to see little and be aston- ished at nothing, and helen and hale surprised in turn at her unconcern, little suspected the effort her self-suppression cost her. and when over some wonder she did lose herself, hale would say: just wait till you see new york!” and june would turn her dark eyes to helen for confirma- tion and to see if hale could be joking with her. “it's all true, june,” helen would say. “you there some day. it's true.” but that town was enough and too much for june. her head buzzed continuously and she could hardly sleep, and she was glad when one afternoon they took her into the country again—the bluegrass country—and to the little town near which hale must go the trail of the lonesome pine had been born, and which was a dream-city to june, and to a school of which an old friend of his mother was principal, and in which helen herself was a temporary teacher. and rumour had gone ahead of june. hale had found her dashing about the mountains on the back of a wild bull, said rumour. she was as beautiful as europa, was of pure english descent and spoke the language of shakespeare—the hon. sam budd's hand was patent in this. she had saved hale's life from moonshiners and while he was really in love with her, he was pretending to educate her out of gratitude-and here doubtless was the faint tracery of miss anne saunder's natural suspi- cions. and there hale left her under the eye of his sister-left her to absorb another new life like a thirsty plant and come back to the mountains to make his head swim with new witcheries. the trail of the lonesome pine was starting. in stage and wagon, on mule and horse, “riding and tying" sometimes, and even afoot came the rush of madmen. horses and mules were drowned in the mud holes along the road, such was the traffic and such were the floods. the incomers slept eight in a room, burned oil at one dollar a gallon, and ate potatoes at ten cents apiece. the grand central hotel was a humming real estate exchange, and, night and day, the occupants of any room could hear, through the thin partitions, lots booming to right, left, behind and in front of them. the labour and capital question was instantly solved, for everybody became a capitalist-carpenter, brick- layer, blacksmith, singing teacher and preacher. there is no difference between the shrewdest business man and a fool in a boom, for the boom levels all grades of intelligence and produces as distinct a form of insanity as you can find within the walls of an asylum. lots took wings sky- ward. hale bought one for june for thirty dol- lars and sold it for a thousand. before the au- tumn was gone, he found himself on the way to ridiculous opulence and, when spring came, he had the world in a sling and, if he wished, he could toss it playfully at the sun and have it drop back into his hand again. and the boom spread down the valley and into the hills. the police guard had little to do and, over in the mountains, the feud miraculously came to a sudden close. the trail of the lonesome pine so pervasive, indeed, was the spirit of the times that the hon. sam budd actually got old buck falin and old dave tolliver to sign a truce, agree- ing to a complete cessation of hostilities until he carried through a land deal in which both were interested. and after that was concluded, no- body had time, even the red fox, for deviltry and private vengeance—so busy was everybody pick- ing up the manna which was dropping straight from the clouds. hale bought all of old judd's land, formed a stock company and in the trade gave june a bonus of the stock. money was plenti- ful as grains of sand, and the cashier of the bank in the back of the furniture store at the gap chuckled to his beardless directors as he locked the wooden door on the day before the great land sale: “capital stock paid in-thirteen thousand dol- lars; “deposits—three hundred thousand; “loans—two hundred and sixty thousand- interest from eight to twelve per cent." and, beardless though those directors were, that state- ment made them reel. a club was formed and the like of it was not below mason and dixon's line in the way of fur- niture, periodicals, liquors and cigars. poker ceased—it was too tame in competition with this new game of town-lots. on the top of high knob a kingdom was bought. the young bloods of the town would build a lake up there, run a road up the trail of the lonesome pine and build a swiss chalet on the very top for a country club. the “booming" editor was dis- charged. a new paper was started, and the ex- editor of a new york daily was got to run it. if anybody wanted anything, he got it from no mat- ter where, nor at what cost. nor were the arts wholly neglected. one man, who was proud of his voice, thought he would like to take singing lessons. an emissary was sent to boston to bring back the best teacher he could find. the teacher came with a method of placing the voice by trying to say “come!” at the base of the nose and be- tween the eyes. this was with the lips closed. he charged two dollars per half hour for this effort, he had each pupil try it twice for half an hour each day, and for six weeks the town was humming like a beehive. at the end of that period, the teacher fell ill and went his way with a fat pocket-book and not a warbling soul had got the chance to open his mouth. the experience dampened no- body. generosity was limitless. it was equally easy to raise money for a roulette wheel, a cathe- dral or an expedition to africa. and even yet the railroad was miles away and even yet in feb- ruary, the improvement company had a great land sale. the day before it, competing purchas- ers had deposited cheques aggregating three times the sum asked for by the company for the land. so the buyers spent the night organizing a pool to keep down competition and drawing lots for the the trail of the lonesome pine privilege of bidding. for fairness, the sale was an auction, and one old farmer who had sold some of the land originally for a hundred dollars an acre, bought back some of that land at a thousand dollars a lot. that sale was the climax and, that early, hale got a warning word from england, but he paid no heed even though, after the sale, the boom slack- ened, poised and stayed still; for optimism was unquenchable and another tide would come with another sale in may, and so the spring passed in the same joyous recklessness and the same perfect hope. in april, the first railroad reached the gap at last, and families came in rapidly. money was still plentiful and right royally was it spent, for was not just as much more coming when the sec- ond road arrived in may ? life was easier, too- supplies came from new york, eight o'clock din- ners were in vogue and everybody was happy. every man had two or three good horses and noth- ing to do. the place was full of visiting girls. they rode in parties to high knob, and the ring of hoof and the laughter of youth and maid made every dusk resonant with joy. on poplar hill houses sprang up like magic and weddings came. the passing stranger was stunned to find out in the wilderness such a spot; gayety, prodigal hos- pitality, a police force of gentlemen-nearly all of whom were college graduates—and a club, where the trail of the lonesome pine write home for a reason hale knew, though june never mentioned it–because there was no one at home who could read her letters—but she always sent messages to her father and bub and to the old miller and old hon, and hale faithfully deliv- ered them when he could. from her people, as hale learned from his sis- ter, only one messenger had come during the year to june, and he came but once. one morning, a tall, black-haired, uncouth young man, in a slouch hat and a prince albert coat, had strode up to the school with a big paper box under his arm and asked for june. as he handed the box to the maid at the door, it broke and red apples burst from it and rolled down the steps. there was a shriek of laughter from the girls, and the young man, flushing red as the apples, turned, without giving his name, and strode back with no little majesty, looking neither to right nor left. hale knew and june knew that the visitor was her cousin dave, but she never mentioned the incident to him, though as the end of the session drew nigh, her letters became more frequent and more full of messages to the people in lonesome cove, and she seemed eager to get back home. over there about this time, old judd concluded suddenly to go west, taking bud with him, and when hale wrote the fact, an answer came from june that showed the blot of tears. however, she seemed none the less in a hurry to get back, and when hale met her the trail of the lonesome pine at the station, he was startled; for she came back in dresses that were below her shoe-tops, with her wonderful hair massed in a golden glory on the top of her head and the little fairy-cross dangling at a woman's throat. her figure had rounded, her voice had softened. she held herself as straight as a young poplar and she walked the earth as though she had come straight from olympus. and still, in spite of her new feathers and airs and graces, there was in her eye and in her laugh and in her moods all the subtle wild charm of the child in lonesome cove. it was fairy-time for june that summer, though her father and bud had gone west, for her step-mother was living with a sister, the cabin in lonesome cove was closed and june stayed at the gap, not at the widow crane's boarding-house, but with one of hale's married friends on poplar hill. and always was she, young as she was, one of the merry parties of that: happy summer-even at the dances, for the dance, too, june had learned. moreover she had picked up the guitar, and many times when hale had been out in the hills, he would hear her silver- clear voice floating out into the moonlight as he made his way toward poplar hill, and he would stop under the beeches and listen with ears of growing love to the wonder of it all. for it was he who was the ardent one of the two now. june was no longer the frank, impulsive child who stood at the foot of the beech, doggedly reck- the trail of the lonesome pine less if all the world knew her love for him. she had taken flight to some inner recess where it was difficult for hale to follow, and right puzzled he was to discover that he must now win again what, unasked, she had once so freely given. bob berkley, too, had developed amazingly. he no longer said “sir” to hale—that was bad form at harvard—he called him by his first name and looked him in the eye as man to man: just as june—hale observed—no longer seemed in any awe of miss anne saunders and to have lost all jealousy of her, or of anybody else—so swiftly had her instinct taught her she now had nothing to fear. and bob and june seemed mightily pleased with each other, and sometimes hale, watching them as they galloped past him on horseback laughing and bantering, felt foolish to think of their perfect fitness—the one for the other—and the incongruity of himself in a relationship that would so naturally be theirs. at one thing he wondered: she had made an extraordinary record at school and it seemed to him that it was partly through the consciousness that her brain would take care of itself that she could pay such heed to what hitherto she had had no chance to learn- dress, manners, deportment and speech. indeed, it was curious that she seemed to lay most stress on the very things to which he, because of his long rough life in the mountains, was growing more and more indifferent. it was quite plain that bob, the trail of the lonesome pine with his extreme gallantry of manner, his smart clothes, his high ways and his unconquerable gayety, had supplanted him on the pedestal where he had been the year before, just as somebody, somewhere-his sister, perhaps—had supplanted miss anne. several times indeed june had cor- rected hale's slips of tongue with mischievous tri- umph, and once when he came back late from a long trip in the mountains and walked in to din- ner without changing his clothes, hale saw her look from himself to the immaculate bob with an unconscious comparison that half amused, half worried him. the truth was he was building a lovely frankenstein and from wondering what he was going to do with it, he was beginning to won- der now what it might some day do with him. and though he sometimes joked with miss anne, who had withdrawn now to the level plane of friendship with him, about the transformation that was going on, he worried in a way that did neither his heart nor his brain good. still he fought both to little purpose all that summer, and it was not till the time was nigh when june must go away again, that he spoke both. for hale's sister was going to marry, and it was her advice that he should take june to new york if only for the sake of her music and her voice. that very day june had for the first time seen her cousin dave. he was on horseback, he had been drink- ing and he pulled in and, without an answer to her the trail of the lonesome pine greeting, stared her over from head to foot. col- ouring angrily, she started on and then he spoke thickly and with a sneer: “'bout fryin' size, now, ain't ye? i reckon maybe, if you keep on, you'll be good enough fer him in a year or two more. “i'm much obliged for those apples, dave,” said june quietly—and dave flushed a darker red and sat still, forgetting to renew the old threat that was on his tongue. but his taunt rankled in the girl-rankled more now than when dave first made it, for she better saw the truth of it and the hurt was the greater to her unconquerable pride that kept her from betray- ing the hurt to dave long ago, and now, when he was making an old wound bleed afresh. but the pain was with her at dinner that night and through the evening. she avoided hale's eyes though she knew that he was watching her all the time, and her instinct told her that something was going to happen that night and what that something hale was the last to go and when he called to her from the porch, she went out trembling and stood at the head of the steps in the moon- light. “i love you, little girl,” he said simply, “and i want you to marry me some day—will you, june?” she was unsurprised but she flushed under his hungry eyes, and the little cross throbbed at her throat. was. the trail of the lonesome pine “some day—not now,” she thought, and then with equal simplicity: “yes, jack.” “and if you should love somebody else more, you'll tell me right away-won't you, june ?” she shrank a little and her eyes fell, but straight- way she raised them steadily: “yes, jack.” “thank you, little girl-good-night.” “good-night, jack.” hale saw the little shrinking movement she made, and, as he went down the hill, he thought she seemed to be in a hurry to be alone, and that she had caught her breath sharply as she turned away. and brooding he walked the woods long that night. only a few days later, they started for new york and, with all her dreaming, june had never dreamed that the world could be so large. moun- tains and vast stretches of rolling hills and level land melted away from her wondering eyes; towns and cities sank behind them, swift streams swollen by freshets were outstripped and left behind, dark- ness came on and, through it, they still sped on. once during the night she woke from a troubled dream in her berth and for a moment she thought she was at home again. they were running through mountains again and there they lay in the moonlight, the great calm dark faces that she knew and loved, and she seemed to catch the odour of the earth and feel the cool air on her face, but the trail of the lonesome pine there was no pang of homesickness now-she was too eager for the world into which she was going. next morning the air was cooler, the skies lower and grayer—the big city was close at hand. then came the water, shaking and sparkling in the early light like a great cauldron of quicksilver, and the wonderful brooklyn bridge—a ribbon of twinkling lights tossed out through the mist from the mighty city that rose from that mist as from a fantastic dream; then the picking of a way through screeching little boats and noiseless big ones and white bird-like floating things and then they disappeared like two tiny grains in a shifting human tide of sand. but hale was happy now, for on that trip june had come back to herself, and to him, once more—and now, awed but unafraid, eager, bubbling, uplooking, full of quaint ques- tions about everything she saw, she was once more sitting with affectionate reverence at his feet. when he left her in a great low house that fronted on the majestic hudson, june clung to him with tears and of her own accord kissed him for the first time since she had torn her little playhouse to pieces at the foot of the beech down in the moun- tains far away. and hale went back with peace in his heart, but to trouble in the hills. not suddenly did the boom drop down there, not like a falling star, but on the wings of hope- wings that ever auttering upward, yet sank inex- the trail of the lonesome pine orably and slowly closed. the first crash came over the waters when certain big men over there went to pieces—men on whose shoulders rested the colossal figure of progress that the english · were carving from the hills at cumberland gap. still nobody saw why a hurt to the lion should make the eagle sore and so the american spirit at the other gaps and all up the virginia valleys that skirt the cumberland held faithful and dauntless—for a while. but in time as the huge steel plants grew noiseless, and the flaming throats of the furnaces were throttled, a sympathetic fire of dissolution spread slowly north and south and it was plain only to the wise outsider as merely a matter of time until, all up and down the cumber- land, the fox and the coon and the quail could come back to their old homes on corner lots, marked each by a pathetic little whitewashed post-a tombstone over the graves of a myriad of buried human hopes. but it was the gap where hale was that died last and hardest—and of the brave spirits there, his was the last and hardest to die. in the autumn, while june was in new york, the signs were sure but every soul refused to see them. slowly, however, the vexed question of labour and capital was born again, for slowly each local capitalist went slowly back to his own trade: the blacksmith to his forge, but the carpenter not to his plane nor the mason to his brick—there was the trail of the lonesome pine no more building going on. the engineer took up his transit, the preacher-politician was oftener in his pulpit, and the singing teacher started on his round of raucous do-mi-sol-dos through the mountains again. it was curious to see how each man slowly, reluctantly and perforce sank back again to his old occupation—and the town, with the luxuries of electricity, water-works, bath-tubs and a street railway, was having a hard fight for the plain necessities of life. the following spring, notes for the second payment on the lots that had been bought at the great land sale fell due, and but very few were paid. as no suits were brought by the company, however, hope did not quite die. june did not come home for the summer, and hale did not encourage her to come—she visited some of her school-mates in the north and took a trip west to see her father who had gone out there again and bought a farm. in the early autumn, devil judd came back to the mountains and announced his intention to leave them for good. but that autumn, the effects of the dead boom became perceptible in the hills. there were no more coal lands bought, logging ceased, the factions were idle once more, moonshine stills flourished, quarrelling started, and at the county seat, one court day, devil judd whipped three falins with his bare fists. in the early spring a tolliver was shot from ambush and old judd was so furious at the outrage that he openly announced the trail of the lonesome pine that he would stay at home until he had settled the old scores for good. so that, as the summer came on, matters between the falins and the tol- livers were worse than they had been for years and everybody knew that, with old judd at the head of his clan again, the fight would be fought to the finish. at the gap, one institution only had suf- fered in spirit not at all and that was the volun- teer police guard. indeed, as the excitement of the boom had died down, the members of that force, as a vent for their energies, went with more enthusiasm than ever into their work. local law- lessness had been subdued by this time, the guard had been extending its work into the hills, and it was only a question of time until it must take a part in the falin-tolliver troubles. indeed, that time, hale believed, was not far away, for election day was at hand, and always on that day the feudists came to the gap in a search for trouble. meanwhile, not long afterward, there was a pitched battle between the factions at the county seat, and several of each would fight no more. next day a falin whistled a bullet through devil judd's beard from ambush, and it was at such a crisis of all the warring elements in her mountain life that june's school-days were coming to a close. hale had had a frank talk with old judd and the old man agreed that the two had best be married at once and live at the gap until things were quieter in the mountains, though the old man still clung the trail of the lonesome pine to his resolution to go west for good when he was done with the falins. at such a time, then, june was coming home. xxi hale tale was beyond black mountain when her letter reached him. his work over there had to be finished and so he kept in his saddle the greater part of two days and nights and on the third day rode his big black horse forty miles in little more than half a day that he might meet her at the train. the last two years had wrought their change in him. deterioration is easy in the hills—superficial deterioration in habits, manners, personal appearance and the practices of all the little niceties of life. the morning bath is impos- sible because of the crowded domestic conditions of a mountain cabin and, if possible, might if prac- tised, excite wonder and comment, if not vague suspicion. sleeping garments are practically barred for the same reason. shaving becomes a rare luxury. a lost tooth-brush may not be re- placed for a month. in time one may bring him- self to eat with a knife for the reason that it is hard for a hungry man to feed himself with a fork that has but two tines. the finger tips cease to be the culminating standard of the gentleman. it is hard to keep a supply of fresh linen when one is constantly in the saddle, and a constant weariness the trail of the lonesome pine of body and a ravenous appetite make a man in- different to things like a bad bed and worse food, particularly as he must philosophically put up with them, anyhow. of all these things the man himself may be quite unconscious and yet they affect him more deeply than he knows and show to a woman even in his voice, his walk, his mouth -everywhere save in his eyes, which change only in severity, or in kindliness or when there has been some serious break-down of soul or character within. and the woman will not look to his eyes for the truth—which makes its way slowly-par- ticularly when the woman has striven for the very things that the man has so recklessly let go. she would never suffer herself to let down in such a way and she does not understand how a man can. hale's life, since his college doors had closed behind him, had always been a rough one. he had dropped from civilization and had gone back into it many times. and each time he had dropped, he dropped the deeper, and for that reason had come back into his own life each time with more difficulty and with more indifference. the last had been his roughest year and he had sunk a little more deeply just at the time when june had been pluming herself for flight from such depths for- moreover, hale had been dominant in every matter that his hand or his brain had touched. his habit had been to say “do this” and it was done. though he was no longer acting cap- ever. the trail of the lonesome pine bright and keen and his heart thumped eagerly. again it was the middle of june and the town was a naked island in a sea of leaves whose breakers literally had run mountain high and stopped for all time motionless. purple lights thick as mist veiled powell's mountain. below, the valley was still flooded with yellow sunlight which lay along the mountain sides and was streaked here and there with the long shadow of a deep ravine. the beech trunks on imboden hill gleamed in it like white bodies scantily draped with green, and the yawning gap held the yellow light as a bowl holds wine. he had long ago come to look upon the hills merely as storehouses for iron and coal, put there for his special purpose, but now the long submerged sense of the beauty of it all stirred within him again, for june was the incarnate spirit of it all and june was coming back to those mountains and to him. and june-june had seen the change in hale. the first year he had come often to new york to see her and they had gone to the theatre and the opera, and june was pleased to play the part of heroine in what was such a real romance to the other girls in school and she was proud of hale. but each time he came, he seemed less interested in the diversions that meant so much to her, more absorbed in his affairs in the mountains and less the trail of the lonesome pine particular about his looks. his visits came at longer intervals, with each visit he stayed less long, and each time he seemed more eager to get away. she had been shy about appearing before him for the first time in evening dress, and when he entered the drawing-room she stood under a chandelier in blushing and resplendent confusion, but he seemed not to recognize that he had never seen her that way before, and for another reason june remained confused, disappointed and hurt, for he was not only unobserving, and seemingly unappreciative, but he was more silent than ever that night and he looked gloomy. but if he had grown accus- tomed to her beauty, there were others who had not, and smart, dapper college youths gathered about her like bees around a flower—a trium- phant fact to which he also seemed indifferent. moreover, he was not in evening clothes that night and she did not know whether he had for- gotten or was indifferent to them, and the con- trast that he was made her that night almost ashamed for him. she never guessed what the matter was, for hale kept his troubles to himself. he was always gentle and kind, he was as lavish with her as though he were a king, and she was as lavish and prodigally generous as though she were a princess. there seemed no limit to the wizard income from the investments that hale had made for her when, as he said, he sold a part of her stock in the lonesome cove mine, and the trail of the lonesome pine what she wanted hale always sent her without question. only, as the end was coming on at the gap, he wrote once to know if a certain amount would carry her through until she was ready to come home, but even that question aroused no suspicion in thoughtless june. and then that last year he had come no more—always, always he was too busy. not even on her triumphal night at the end of the session was he there, when she had stood before the guests and patrons of the school like a goddess, and had thrilled them into startling applause, her teachers into open glowing pride, the other girls into bright-eyed envy and herself into still another new world. now she was going home and she was glad to go. she had awakened that morning with the keen air of the mountains in her nostrils--the air she had breathed in when she was born, and her eyes shone happily when she saw through her window the loved blue hills along which raced the train. they were only a little way from the town where she must change, the porter said; she had over- slept and she had no time even to wash her face and hands, and that worried her a good deal. the porter nearly lost his equilibrium when she gave him half a dollar—for women are not profuse in the way of tipping—and instead of putting her bag down on the station platform, he held it in his hand waiting to do her further service. at the head of the steps she searched about for hale and the trail of the lonesome pine her lovely face looked vexed and a little hurt when she did not see him. “hotel, miss ?” said the porter. “yes, please, harvey!" she called. an astonished darky sprang from the line of calling hotel-porters and took her bag. then every tooth in his head aashed. “lordy, miss june, i never knowed you at all.” june smiled—it was the tribute she was looking for. “have you seen mr. hale?” “no'm. mr. hale ain't been here for mos' six months. i reckon he aint in this country now. i aint heard nothin' 'bout him for a long time. june knew better than that—but she said noth- ing. she would rather have had even harvey think that he was away. so she hurried to the hotel-she would have four hours to wait—and asked for the one room that had a bath attached the room to which hale had sent her when she had passed through on her way to new york. she almost winced when she looked in the mirror and saw the smoke stains about her pretty throat and ears, and she wondered if anybody could have noticed them on her way from the train. her hands, too, were dreadful to look at and she hurried to take off her things. in an hour she emerged freshened, immaculate from her crown of lovely hair to her smartly booted feet, and at once she went downstairs. she heard the trail of the lonesome pine the man, whom she passed, stop at the head of them and turn to look down at her, and she saw necks craned within the hotel office when she passed the door. on the street not a man and hardly a woman failed to look at her with wonder and open admiration, for she was an apparition in that little town and it all pleased her so much that she became flushed and conscious and felt like a queen who, unknown, moved among her subjects and blessed them just with her gracious presence. for she was unknown even by several people whom she knew and that, too, pleased her—to have bloomed so quite beyond their ken. she was like a meteor coming back to dazzle the very world from which it had flown for a while into space. when she went into the dining-room for the mid- day dinner, there was a movement in almost every part of the room as though there were many there who were on the lookout for her entrance. the head waiter, a portly darky, lost his imperturbable majesty for a moment in surprise at the vision and then with a lordly yet obsequious wave of his hand, led her to a table over in a corner where no one was sitting. four young men came in rather boisterously and made for her table. she lifted her calm eyes at them so haughtily that the one in front halted with sudden embarrassment and they all swerved to another table from which they stared at her surreptitiously. perhaps she was mistaken for the comic-opera star whose brilliant the trail of the lonesome pine picture she had seen on a bill board in front of the “opera house." well, she had the voice and she might have been and she might yet be—and if she were, this would be the distinction that would be shown her. and, still as it was she was greatly pleased. at four o'clock she started for the hills. in half an hour she was dropping down a winding ravine along a rock-lashing stream with those hills so close to the car on either side that only now and then could she see the tops of them. through the window the keen air came from the very lungs of them, freighted with the coolness of shadows, the scent of damp earth and the faint fragrance of wild flowers, and her soul leaped to meet them. the mountain sides were showered with pink and white laurel (she used to call it “ivy”) and the rhododendrons (she used to call them “laurel”) were just beginning to blossom—they were her old and fast friends-mountain, shadow, the wet earth and its pure breath, and tree, plant and flower; she had not forgotten them, and it was good to come back to them. once she saw an overshot water-wheel on the bank of the rushing little stream and she thought of uncle billy; she smiled and the smile stopped short—she was going back to other things as well. the train had creaked by a log-cabin set in the hillside and then past another and another; and always there were two or three ragged children in the door and the trail of the lonesome pine a haggard unkempt woman peering over their shoulders. how lonely those cabins looked and how desolate the life they suggested to her now- now! the first station she came to after the train had wound down the long ravine to the valley level again was crowded with mountaineers. there a wedding party got aboard with a great deal of laughter, chaffing and noise, and all three went on within and without the train while it was waiting. a sudden thought stunned her like a lightning stroke. they were her people out there on the platform and inside the car ahead—those rough men in slouch hats, jeans and cowhide boots, their mouths stained with tobacco juice, their cheeks and eyes on fire with moonshine, and those women in poke-bonnets with their sad, worn, patient faces on which the sympathetic good cheer and joy of the moment sat so strangely. she noticed their rough shoes and their homespun gowns that made their figures all alike and shapeless, with a vivid awakening of early memories. she might have been one of those narrow-lived girls outside, or that bride within had it not been for jack- hale. she finished the name in her own mind and she was conscious that she had. ah, well, that was a long time ago and she was nothing but a child and she had thrown herself at his head. perhaps it was different with him now and if it was, she would give him the chance to withdraw from everything. it would be right and fair and then the trail of the lonesome pine life was so full for her now. she was dependent on nobody—on nothing. a rainbow spanned the heaven above her and the other end of it was not in the hills. but one end was and to that end she was on her way. she was going to just such peo- ple as she had seen at the station. her father and her kinsmen were just such men-her step-mother and kinswomen were just such women. her home was little more than just such a cabin as the deso- late ones that stirred her pity when she swept by them. she thought of how she felt when she had first gone to lonesome cove after a few months at the gap, and she shuddered to think how she would feel now. she was getting restless by this time and aimlessly she got up and walked to the front of the car and back again to her seat, hardly notic- ing that the other occupants were staring at her with some wonder. she sat down for a few min- utes and then she went to the rear and stood out- side on the platform, clutching a brass rod of the railing and looking back on the dropping darkness in which the hills seemed to be rushing together far behind as the train crashed on with its wake of spark-lit rolling smoke. a cinder stung and when she lifted her hand to the spot, she saw that her glove was black with grime. with a little shiver of disgust she went back to her seat and with her face to the blackness rushing past her window she sat brooding-brooding. why had hale not met her? he had said he would and she her face, the trail of the lonesome pine had written him when she was coming and had telegraphed him at the station in new york when she started. perhaps he had changed. she re- called that even his letters had grown less fre- quent, shorter, more hurried the past year-well, he should have his chance. always, however, her mind kept going back to the people at the station and to her people in the mountains. they were the same, she kept repeating to herself—the very same and she was one of them. and always she kept thinking of her first trip to lonesome cove after her awakening and of what her next would be. that first time hale had made her back as she had left, in home-spun, sun-bonnet and bro- gans. there was the same reason why she should go back that way now as then—would hale insist that she should now? she almost laughed aloud at the thought. she knew that she would refuse and she knew that his reason would not appeal to her now—she no longer cared what her neigh- bours and kinspeople might think and say. the porter paused at her seat. “how much longer is it?" she asked. “half an hour, miss." june went to wash her face and hands, and when she came back to her seat a great glare shone through the windows on the other side of the car. it was the furnace, a “run” was on and she could see the streams of white molten metal racing down the narrow channels of sand to their narrow beds f< yohn “june!” he cried in amazement. the trail of the lonesome pine on either side. the whistle shrieked ahead for the gap and she nerved herself with a prophetic sense of vague trouble at hand. at the station hale had paced the platform. he looked at his watch to see whether he might have time to run up to the furnace, half a mile away, and board the train there. he thought he had and he was about to start when the shriek of the coming engine rose beyond the low hills in wild cat valley, echoed along powell's mountain and broke against the wrinkled breast of the cumber- land. on it came, and in plain sight it stopped suddenly to take water, and hale cursed it silently and recalled viciously that when he was in a hurry to arrive anywhere, the water-tower was always on the wrong side of the station. he got so rest- less that he started for it on a run and he had gone hardly fifty yards before the train came on again and he had to run back to beat it to the station- where he sprang to the steps of the pullman before it stopped-pushing the porter aside to find him- self checked by the crowded passengers at the door. june was not among them and straightway he ran for the rear of the car. june had risen. the other occupants of the car had crowded forward and she was the last of them. she had stood, during an irritating wait, at the water-tower, and now as she moved slowly forward again she heard the hurry of feet behind her and the trail of the lonesome pine she turned to look into the eager, wondering eyes of john hale. “ june!” he cried in amazement, but his face lighted with joy and he impulsively stretched out his arms as though he meant to take her in them, but as suddenly he dropped them before the startled look in her eyes, which, with one swift glance, searched him from head to foot. they shook hands almost gravely. xxii june une sat in the little dummy, the focus of curious eyes, while hale was busy seeing that her baggage was got aboard. the checks that she gave him jingled in his hands like a bunch of keys, and he could hardly help grinning when he saw the huge trunks and the smart bags that were tumbled from the baggage car—all marked with her initials. there had been days when he had laid considerable emphasis on pieces like those, and when he thought of them overwhelming with opulent suggestions that debt-stricken little town, and, later, piled incongruously on the porch of the cabin on lonesome cove, he could have laughed aloud but for a nameless something that was gnawing savagely at his heart. he felt almost shy when he went back into the car, and though june greeted him with a smile, her immaculate daintiness made him uncon- sciously sit quite far away from her. the little fairy-cross was still at her throat, but a tiny dia- mond gleamed from each end of it and from the centre, as from a tiny heart, pulsated the light of a little blood-red ruby. to him it meant the loss of june's simplicity and was the symbol of her new estate, but he smiled and forced himself into hearty the trail of the lonesome pine cheerfulness of manner and asked her questions about her trip. but june answered in halting monosyllables, and talk was not easy between them. all the while he was watching her closely and not a movement of her eye, ear, mouth or hand—not an inflection of her voice-escaped him. he saw her sweep the car and its occupants with a glance, and he saw the results of that glance in her face and the down-dropping of her eyes to the dainty point of one boot. he saw her beautiful mouth close suddenly tight and her thin nostrils quiver disdainfully when a swirl of black smoke, heavy with cinders, came in with an entering pas- senger through the front door of the car. two half-drunken men were laughing boisterously near that door and even her ears seemed trying to shut out their half-smothered rough talk. the car started with a bump that swayed her toward him, and when she caught the seat with one hand, it checked as suddenly, throwing her the other way, and then with a leap it sprang ahead again, giving a nagging snap to her head. her whole face grew red with vexation and shrinking distaste, and all the while, when the little train steadied into its creaking, puffing, jostling way, one gloved hand on the chased silver handle of her smart little um- brella kept nervously swaying it to and fro on its steel-shod point, until she saw that the point was in a tiny pool of tobacco juice, and then she laid it across her lap with shuddering swiftness. the trail of the lonesome pine at first hale thought that she had shrunk from kissing him in the car because other people were around. he knew better now. at that moment he was as rough and dirty as the chain-carrier op- posite him, who was just in from a surveying ex- pedition in the mountains, as the sooty brakeman who came through to gather up the fares—as one of those good-natured, profane inebriates up in the corner. no, it was not publicity—she had shrunk from him as she was shrinking now from black smoke, rough men, the shaking of the train —the little pool of tobacco juice at her feet. the truth began to glimmer through his brain. he understood, even when she leaned forward sud- denly to look into the mouth of the gap, that was now dark with shadows. through that gap lay her way and she thought him now more a part of what was beyond than she who had been born of it was, and dazed by the thought, he wondered if he might not really be. at once he straightened in his seat, and his mind made up, as he always made it up-swiftly. he had not explained why he had not met her that morning, nor had he apologized for his rough garb, because he was so glad to see her and because there were so many other things he wanted to say; and when he saw her, conscious and resentful, perhaps, that he had not done these things at once—he deliberately de- clined to do them now. he became silent, but he grew more courteous, more thoughtful-watchful. the trail of the lonesome pine she was very tired, poor child; there were deep shadows under her eyes which looked weary and almost mournful. so, when with a clanging of the engine bell they stopped at the brilliantly lit hotel, he led her at once upstairs to the parlour, and from there sent her up to her room, which was ready for her. “you must get a good sleep,” he said kindly, and with his usual firmness that was wont to pre- clude argument. “you are worn to death. i'll have your supper sent to your room.” the girl felt the subtle change in his manner and her lip quivered for a vague reason that neither knew, but, without a word, she obeyed him like a child. he did not try again to kiss her. he merely took her hand, placed his left over it, and with a gentle pressure, said: “good-night, little girl.” “good-night,” she faltered. resolutely, relentlessly, first, hale cast up his accounts, liabilities, resources, that night, to see what, under the least favourable outcome, the balance left to him would be. nearly all was gone. his securities were already sold. his lots would not bring at public sale one-half of the de- ferred payments yet to be made on them, and if the company brought suit, as it was threatening to do, he would be left fathoms deep in debt. the branch railroad had not come up the river the trail of the lonesome pine toward lonesome cove, and now he meant to build barges and float his cannel coal down to the main line, for his sole hope was in the mine in lonesome cove. the means that he could com- mand were meagre, but they would carry his pur- pose with june for a year at least and then—who knew?—he might, through that mine, be on his feet again. the little town was dark and asleep when he stepped into the cool night-air and made his way past the old school-house and up imboden hill. he could see—all shining silver in the moonlight —the still crest of the big beech at the blessed roots of which his lips had met june's in the first kiss that had passed between them. on he went through the shadowy aisle that the path made be- tween other beech-trunks, harnessed by the moon- light with silver armour and motionless as senti- nels on watch till dawn, out past the amphitheatre of darkness from which the dead trees tossed out their crooked arms as though voicing silently now his own soul's torment, and then on to the point of the spur of foot-hills where, with the mighty mountains encircling him and the world, a dream- land lighted only by stars, he stripped his soul before the maker of it and of him and fought his fight out alone. his was the responsibility for all—his alone. no one else was to blame- june not at all. he had taken her from her own life—had swerved the trail of the lonesome pine mind he treated conditions only as he saw and felt them and believed them at that moment true: and into the problem he went no deeper than to find his simple duty, and that, while the morning stars were sinking, he found. and it was a duty the harder to find because everything had reawakened within him, and the starting-point of that awak- ening was the proud glow in uncle billy's kind old face, when he knew the part he was to play in the happiness of hale and june. all the way over the mountain that day his heart had gathered fuel from memories at the big pine, and down the mountain and through the gap, to be set aflame by the yellow sunlight in the valley and the throb- bing life in everything that was alive, for the month was june and the spirit of that month was on her way to him. so when he rose now, with back-thrown head, he stretched his arms sud- denly out toward those far-seeing stars, and as suddenly dropped them with an angry shake of his head and one quick gritting of his teeth that such a thought should have mastered him even for one swift second—the thought of how lonesome would be the trail that would be his to follow after that day. xxiii june, tired though she was, tossed restlessly that night. the one look she had seen in hale's face when she met him in the car, told her the truth as far as he was concerned. he was un- changed, she could give him no chance to with- draw from their long understanding, for it was plain to her quick instinct that he wanted none. and so she had asked him no question about his failure to meet her, for she knew now that his rea- son, no matter what, was good. he had startled her in the car, for her mind was heavy with mem- ories of the poor little cabins she had passed on the train, of the mountain men and women in the wedding-party, and hale himself was to the eye so much like one of them had so startled her that, though she knew that his instinct, too, was at work, she could not gather herself together to combat her own feelings, for every little happen- ing in the dummy but drew her back to her pre- vious train of painful thought. and in that helplessness she had told hale good-night. she re- membered now how she had looked upon lone- some cove after she went to the gap; how she had looked upon the gap after her year in the the trail of the lonesome pine bluegrass, and how she had looked back even on the first big city she had seen there from the lofty vantage ground of new york. what was the use of it all? why laboriously climb a hill merely to see and yearn for things that you cannot have, if you must go back and live in the hollow again? well, she thought rebelliously, she would not go back to the hollow again—that was all. she knew what was coming and her cousin dave's perpet- ual sneer sprang suddenly from the past to cut through her again and the old pride rose within her once more. she was good enough now for hale, oh, yes, she thought bitterly, good enough now; and then, remembering his life-long kindness and thinking what she might have been but for him, she burst into tears at the unworthiness of her own thought. ah, what should she do—what should she do? repeating that question over and over again, she fell toward morning into troubled sleep. she did not wake until nearly noon, for al- ready she had formed the habit of sleeping late- late at least, for that part of the world—and she was glad when the negro boy brought her word that mr. hale had been called up the valley and would not be back until the afternoon. she dreaded to meet him, for she knew that he had seen the trouble within her and she knew he was not the kind of man to let matters drag vaguely, if they could be cleared up and settled by open frankness of discussion, no matter how blunt he the trail of the lonesome pine must be. she had to wait until mid-day dinner time for something to eat, so she lay abed, picked a breakfast from the menu, which was spotted, dirty and meagre in offerings, and had it brought to her room. early in the afternoon she issued forth into the sunlight, and started toward imbo- den hill. it was very beautiful and soul-com- forting—the warm air, the luxuriantly wooded hills, with their shades of green that told her where poplar and oak and beech and maple grew, the delicate haze of blue that overlay them and deep- ened as her eyes followed the still mountain piles north-eastward to meet the big range that shut her in from the outer world. the changes had been many. one part of the town had been wiped out by fire and a few buildings of stone had risen up. on the street she saw strange faces, but now and then she stopped to shake hands with somebody whom she knew, and who recognized her always with surprise and spoke but few words, and then, as she thought, with some embarrassment. half unconsciously she turned toward the old mill. there it was, dusty and gray, and the dripping old wheel creaked with its weight of shining water, and the muffled roar of the unseen dam started an answering stream of memories surging within her. she could see the window of her room in the old brick boarding-house, and as she passed the gate, she almost stopped to go in, but the face of a strange man who stood in the door with a proprie- the trail of the lonesome pine tary air deterred her. there was hale's little frame cottage and his name, half washed out, was over the wing that was still his office. past that she went, with a passing temptation to look within, and toward the old school-house. a massive new one was half built, of gray stone, to the left, but the old one, with its shingles on the outside that had once caused her such wonder, still lay warm in the sun, but closed and deserted. there was the play- ground where she had been caught in “ring around the rosy,” and hale and that girl teacher had heard her confession. she flushed again when she thought of that day, but the flush was now for another reason. over the roof of the school- house she could see the beech tree where she had built her playhouse, and memory led her from the path toward it. she had not climbed a hill for a long time and she was panting when she reached it. there was the scattered playhouse—it might have lain there untouched for a quarter of a cen- tury—just as her angry feet had kicked it to pieces. on a root of the beech she sat down and the broad rim of her hat scratched the trunk of it and an- noyed her, so she took it off and leaned her head against the tree, looking up into the underworld of leaves through which a sunbeam filtered here and there—one striking her hair which had dark- ened to a duller gold-striking it eagerly, uner- ringly, as though it had started for just such a shin- ing mark. below her was outspread the little the trail of the lonesome pine “i saw you pass the office,” he said, “and i thought i should find you here." his eyes dropped to the scattered playhouse of long ago—and a faint smile that was full of sub- merged sadness passed over his face. it was his playhouse, after all, that she had kicked to pieces. but he did not mention it-nor her attitude—nor did he try, in any way, to arouse her memories of that other time at this same place. “i want to talk with you, june—and i want to talk now." “yes, jack,” she said tremulously. for a moment he stood in silence, his face half- turned, his teeth hard on his indrawn lip—think- ing. there was nothing of the mountaineer about him now. he was clean-shaven and dressed with care—june saw that—but he looked quite old, his face seemed harried with worries and ravaged by suffering, and june had suddenly to swallow a quick surging of pity for him. he spoke slowly and without looking at her: june, if it hadn't been for me, you would be over in lonesome cove and happily married by this time, or at least contented with your life, for you wouldn't have known any other.” “i don't know, jack.” "i took you out-and it rests with you whether i shall be sorry i did-sorry wholly on your ac- count, i mean," he added hastily. she knew what he meant and she said nothing the trail of the lonesome pine —she only turned her head away slightly, with her eyes upturned a little toward the leaves that were shaking like her own heart. “i think i see it all very clearly,” he went on, in a low and perfectly even voice. “you can't be happy over there now you can't be happy over here now. you've got other wishes, ambitions, , dreams, now, and i want you to realize them, and i want to help you to realize them all i can—that's all." " jack!—” she helplessly, protestingly spoke his name in a whisper, but that was all she could do, and he went on: “it isn't so strange. what is strange is that i- that i didn't foresee it all. but if i had,” he added firmly, “i'd have done it just the same- unless by doing it i've really done you more harm than good." “no-no-jack!” “i came into your world—you went into mine. . what i had grown indifferent about—you grew to care about. you grew sensitive while i was growing callous to certain—" he was about to say “surface things,” but he checked himself—"cer- ta n things in life that mean more to a woman than to a man. i would not have married you as you were—i've got to be honest now—at least i thought it necessary that you should be otherwise -and now you have gone beyond me, and now you do not want to marry me as i am. and it is the trail of the lonesome pine all very natural and very just.” very slowly her head had dropped until her chin rested hard above the little jewelled cross on her breast. "you must tell me if i am wrong. you don't love me now—well enough to be happy with me here”—he waved one hand toward the straggling little town below them and then toward the lonely mountains—"i did not know that we would have to live here-but i know it now" he checked himself, and afterward she recalled the tone of those last words, but then they had no especial significance. “am i wrong?” he repeated, and then he said hurriedly, for her face was so piteous—“no, you needn't give yourself the pain of saying it in words. i want you to know that i understand that there is nothing in the world i blame you for -nothing—nothing. if there is any blame at all, it rests on me alone.” she broke toward him with then. “no-no, jack,” she said brokenly, and she caught his hand in both her own and tried to raise it to her lips, but he held her back and she put her face on his breast and sobbed heart-brokenly. he waited for the paroxysm to pass, stroking her hair gently. "you mustn't feel that way, little girl. you can't help it-i can't help it—and these things happen all the time, everywhere. you don't have to stay here. you can go away and study, and a cry the trail of the lonesome pine when i can, i'll come to see you and cheer you up; and when you are a great singer, i'll send you flowers and be so proud of you, and i'll say to my- self, 'i helped do that.' dry your eyes, now. you must go back to the hotel. your father will be there by this time and you'll have to be starting home pretty soon." like a child she obeyed him, but she was so weak and trembling that he put his arm about her to help her down the hill. at the edge of the woods she stopped and turned full toward him. "you are so good,” she said tremulously, “so good. why, you haven't even asked me if there was another- hale interrupted her, shaking his head. “if there is, i don't want to know." “but there isn't, there isn't!” she cried, “i don't know what is the matter with me. i hate-" the tears started again, and again she was on the point of breaking down, but hale checked her. “now, now,” he said soothingly, "you mustn't, now—that's all right. you mustn't.” her anger at herself helped now. “why, i stood like a silly fool, tongue-tied, and i wanted to say so much. i- “you don't need to," hale said gently, “i un- derstand it all. i understand.” “i believe you do,” she said with a sob, “better than i do." "well, it's all right, little girl. come on.” the trail of the lonesome pine they issued forth into the sunlight and hale walked rapidly. the strain was getting too much for him and he was anxious to be alone. without a word more they passed the old school-house, the massive new one, and went on, in silence, down the street. hitched to a post, near the hotel, were two gaunt horses with drooping heads, and on one of them was a side-saddle. sitting on the steps of the hotel, with a pipe in his mouth, was the mighty figure of devil judd tolliver. he saw them coming—at least he saw hale coming, and that far away hale saw his bushy eyebrows lift in wonder at june. a moment later he rose to his great height without a word. “dad,” said june in a trembling voice, “don't you know me?” the old man stared at her si- lently and a doubtful smile played about his bearded lips. “hardly, but i reckon hit's june.” she knew that the world to which hale belonged would expect her to kiss him, and she made a movement as though she would, but the habit of a lifetime is not broken so easily. she held out her hand, and with the other patted him on the arm as she looked up into his face. "time to be goin', june, if we want to get home afore dark!” “all right, dad.” the old man turned to his horse. “hurry up, little gal." the trail of the lonesome pine in a few mniutes they were ready, and the girl looked long into hale's face when he took her hand. “you are coming over soon ?” just as soon as i can.” her lips trembled. “good-by,” she faltered. "good-by, june,” said hale. from the steps he watched them—the giant father slouching in his saddle and the trim figure of the now sadly misplaced girl, erect on the awk- ward-pacing mountain beast—as incongruous, the two, as a fairy on some prehistoric monster. a horseman was coming up the street behind him and a voice called: · who's that?" hale turned it was the honourable samuel budd, coming home from court. “june tolliver.” “june taliaferro,” corrected the hon. sam with emphasis. "the same.” the hon. sam silently followed the pair for a moment through his big goggles. “what do you think of my theory of the latent possibilities of the mountaineer--now?” “i think i know how true it is better than you do,” said hale calmly, and with a grunt the hon. sam rode on. hale watched them as they rode across the plateau—watched them until the gap swallowed them up and his heart ached for june. then he went to his room and there, stretched out the trail of the lonesome pine leave. things over at the gap “was agoin' to perdition,” the old man had been told, while he was waiting for june and hale that day, and hale had not only lost a lot of money, but if things didn't take a rise, he would be left head over heels in debt, if that mine over in lonesome cove didn't pull him out. they were approaching the big pine now, and june was beginning to ache and get sore from the climb. so hale was in trouble—that was what he meant when he said that, though she could leave the mountains when she pleased, he must stay there, perhaps for good. “i'm mighty glad you come home, gal," said the old man, “an' that ye air goin' to put an end to all this spendin' o' so much money. jack says you got some money left, but i don't understand it. he says he made a 'investment'fer ye and tribbled the money. i haint never axed him no questions. hit was betwixt you an' him, an' 'twant none o ' my business long as you an' him air goin' to marry. he said you was goin' to marry this sum- mer an' i wish you'd git tied up right away whilst i'm livin', fer i don't know when a winchester might take me off an' i'd die a sight easier if i knowed you was tied up with a good man like him.” “yes, dad,” was all she said, for she had not the heart to tell him the truth, and she knew that hale never would until the last moment he must, when he learned that she had failed. the trail of the lonesome pine geese cackled a half an hour later, she could see the stone chimney of the little cabin in lonesome cove. a little farther down several spirals of smoke were visible-rising from unseen houses which were more miners' shacks, her father said, that hale had put up while she was gone. the water of the creek was jet black now. a row of rough wooden houses ran along its edge. the doubtful welcome. a new dog leaped barking from the porch and a tall boy sprang after him- both running for the gate. “why, bub,” cried june, sliding from her horse and kissing him, and then holding him off at arms' length to look into his steady gray eyes and his blushing face. “take the horses, bub,” said old judd, and june entered the gate while bub stood with the reins in his hand, still speechlessly staring her over from head to foot. there was her garden, thank god—with all her flowers planted, a new bed of pansies and one of violets and the border of laurel in bloom—unchanged and weedless. “one o' jack hale’s men takes keer of it,” ex- plained old judd, and again, with shame, june felt the hurt of her lover's thoughtfulness. when she entered the cabin, the same old rasping petulant voice called her from a bed in one corner, and when june took the shrivelled old hand that was limply thrust from the bed-clothes, the old hag's keen eyes swept her from head to foot with disapproval. the trail, of the lonesome pine “my, but you air wearin' mighty fine clothes,” she croaked enviously. “i ain't had a new dress fer more'n five year;" and that was the welcome she got. eyes shone “no ?” said june appeasingly. “well, i'll get one for you myself.” “i'm much obleeged,” she whined, “but i reckon i can git along.” a cough came from the bed in the other corner of the room. “that's dave,” said the old woman, and june walked over to where her cousin's black hostile at her from the dark. “i'm sorry, dave,” she said, but dave answered nothing but a sullen “howdye" and did not put out a hand-he only stared at her in sulky bewil- derment, and june went back to listen to the tor- rent of the old woman's plaints until bub came in. then as she turned, she noticed for the first time that a new door had been cut in one side of the cabin, and bub was following the direction of her eyes. “why, haint nobody told ye?” he said delight- edly. "told me what, bub?” with a whoop bud leaped for the side of the door and, reaching up, pulled a shining key from between the logs and thrust it into her hands. “go ahead,” he said. “hit's yourn. “some more o' jack hale's fool doin’s,” said the old woman. “go on, gal, and see whut he's done." the trail of the lonesome pine that her heart was being clutched by a human hand and that black night had suddenly fallen about her, but this time she knew what it meant. she thought then of the crowded sleeping-room, the rough beds and coarse blankets at home; the oil-cloth, spotted with drippings from a candle, that covered the table; the thick plates and cups; the soggy bread and the thick bacon floating in grease; the absence of napkins, the eating with knives and fingers and the noise bub and her father made drinking their coffee. but then she knew all these things in advance, and the memo- ries of them on her way over had prepared her for lonesome cove. the conditions were definite there: she knew what it would be to face them again—she was facing them all the way, and to her surprise the realities had hurt her less even than they had before. then had come the same thrill over the garden, and now with that garden and her new room and her piano and her books, with uncle billy's sister to help do the work, and with the little changes that june was daily making in the household, she could live her own life even over there as long as she pleased, and then she would go out into the world again. but all the time when she was coming over from the gap, the way had bristled with ac- cusing memories of hale-even from the chat- tering creeks, the turns in the road, the sun-dappled bushes and trees and flowers; and when she the trail of the lonesome pine him, was so illogical and incongruous and vividly true that it raised her to a sitting posture on the log, and she ran her fingers over her forehead and down her dazed face until her chin was in the hollow of her hand, and her startled eyes were fixed unwaveringly on the running water and yet not seeing it at all. a call—her step-mother's cry—rang up the ravine and she did not hear it. she did not even hear bub coming through the underbrush a few minutes later, and when he half angrily shouted her name at the end of the vista, down-stream, whence he could see her, she lifted her head from a dream so deep that in it all her senses had for the moment been wholly lost. “come on," he shouted. she had forgotten—there was a "bean-string- ing" at the house that day—and she slipped slowly off the log and went down the path, gathering her- self together as she went, and making no answer to the indignant bub who turned and stalked ahead of her back to the house. at the barn- yard gate her father stopped her-he looked wor- ried. “jack hale's jus' been over hyeh.” june caught her breath sharply. “has he gone?” the old man was watching her and she felt it. “yes, he was in a hurry an' nobody knowed whar you was. he jus' come over, he said, to tell the trail of the lonesome pine me to tell you that you could go back to new york and keep on with yo' singin' doin's whenever you please. he knowed i didn't want you hyeh when this war starts fer a finish as hit's goin' to, mighty soon now. he says he ain't quite ready to git mar- ried yit. i'm afeerd he's in trouble.” “trouble ?" “i tol' you t'other day-he's lost all his money; but he says you've got enough to keep you goin' fer some time. i don't see why you don't git mar- ried right now and live over at the gap.” june coloured and was silent. “oh," said the old man quickly, “you ain't ready nuther,”—he studied her with narrowing eyes and through a puzzled frown—“but i reckon hit's all right, if you air goin' to git married some time.” “what's all right, dad?” the old man checked himself: "ever' thing," he said shortly, “but don't you make a fool of yo’self with a good man like jack hale.” and, wondering, june was silent. the truth was that the old man had wormed out of hale an admission of the kindly duplicity the lat- ter had practised on him and on june, and he had given his word to hale that he would not tell june. he did not understand why hale should have so insisted on that promise, for it was all right that hale should openly do what he pleased for the girl he was going to marry—but he had given his the trail of the lonesome pine word: so he turned away, but his frown stayed where it was. june went on, puzzled, for she knew that her father was withholding something, and she knew, too, that he would tell her only in his own good time. but she could go away when she pleased- that was the comfort—and with the thought she stopped suddenly at the corner of the garden. she could see hale on his big black horse climbing the spur. once it had always been his custom to stop on top of it to rest his horse and turn to look back at her, and she always waited to wave him good-by. she wondered if he would do it now, and while she looked and waited, the beating of her heart quickened nervously; but he rode straight on, without stopping or turning his head, and june felt strangely bereft and resentful, and the com- fort of the moment before was suddenly gone. she could hear the voices of the guests in the porch around the corner of the house—there was an or- deal for her around there, and she went on. lo- retta and loretta's mother were there, and old hon and several wives and daughters of tolliver adherents from up deadwood creek and below uncle billy's mill. june knew that the "bean- stringing” was simply an excuse for them to be there, for she could not remember that so many had ever gathered there before—at that function in the spring, at corn-cutting in the autumn, or sor- ghum-making time or at log-raisings or quilting the trail of the lonesome pine paties, and she well knew the motive of these many and the curiosity of all save, perhaps, loretta and the old miller's wife: and june was prepared for them. she had borrowed a gown from her step- mother—a purple creation of home-spun—she had shaken down her beautiful hair and drawn it low over her brows, and arranged it behind after the fashion of mountain women, and when she went up the steps of the porch she was outwardly to the eye one of them except for the leathern belt about her slenderly full waist, her black silk stockings and the little “furrin” shoes on her dainty feet. she smiled inwardly when she saw the same old wave of disappointment sweep across the faces of them all. it was not necessary to shake hands, but unthinkingly she did, and the women sat in their chairs as she went from one to the other and each gave her a limp hand and a grave "howdye,” though each paid an unconscious tribute to a vague some- thing about her, by wiping that hand on an apron first. very quietly and naturally she took a low chair, piled beans in her lap and, as one of them, went to work. nobody looked at her at first until old hon broke the silence. “you haint lost a spec o'yo' good looks, juny. june laughed without a flush-she would have reddened to the roots of her hair two years before. “i'm feelin' right peart, thank ye,” she said, dropping consciously into the vernacular; but there was a something in her voice that was vaguely the trail of the lonesome pine felt by all as a part of the universal strangeness that was in her erect bearing, her proud head, her deep eyes that looked so straight into their own- a strangeness that was in that belt and those stock- ings and those shoes, inconspicuous as they were, to which she saw every eye in time covertly wan- dering as to tangible symbols of a mystery that was beyond their ken. old hon and the step-mother alone talked at first, and the others, even loretta, said never a word. “ jack hale must have been in a mighty big hurry,” quavered the old step-mother. june ain't goin' to be with us long, i'm afeerd:” and, without looking up, june knew the wireless sig- nificance of the speech was going around from eye to eye, but calmly she pulled her thread through a green pod and said calmly, with a little enigmati- cal shake of her head: “ —don't know, i don't know." young dave's mother was encouraged and all her efforts at good-humour could not quite draw the sting of a spiteful plaint from her voice. “i reckon she'd never git away, if my boy dave had the sayin' of it.” there was a subdued titter at this, but bub had come in from the stable and had dropped on the edge of the porch. he broke in hotly: “you jest let june alone, aunt tilly, you'll have yo’ hands full if you keep yo' eye on loretty thar.” the trail of the lonesome pine already when somebody was saying something about the feud, as june came around the corner, her quick eye had seen loretta bend her head swiftly over her work to hide the flush of her face. now loretta turned scarlet as the step-mother spoke severely: “you hush, bub," and bub rose and stalked into the house. aunt tilly was leaning back in her chair-gasping—and consternation smote the group. june rose suddenly with her string of dangling beans. “i haven't shown you my room, loretty. don't you want to see it? come on, all of you," she added to the girls, and they and loretta with one swift look of gratitude rose shyly and trooped shyly within where they looked in wide-mouthed wonder at the marvellous things that room con- tained. the older women followed to share sight of the miracle, and all stood looking from one thing to another, some with their hands behind them as though to thwart the temptation to touch, and all saying merely: “my! my!” none of them had ever seen a piano before and june must play the “shiny contraption" and sing a song. it was only curiosity and astonishment that she evoked when her swift fingers began run- ning over the keys from one end of the board to the other, astonishment at the gymnastic quality of the performance, and only astonishment when her the trail of the lonesome pine lovely voice set the very walls of the little room to vibrating with a dramatic love song that was about as intelligible to them as a problem in calculus, and june fushed and then smiled with quick understanding at the dry comment that rose from aunt tilly behind: “she shorely can holler some!” she couldn't play “sourwood mountain” on the piano—nor "jinny git aroun',” nor “soap- suds over the fence,” but with a sudden inspira- tion she went back to an old hymn that they all knew, and at the end she won the tribute of an awed silence that made them file back to the beans on the porch. loretta lingered a moment and when june closed the piano and the two girls went into the main room, a tall figure, entering, stopped in the door and stared at june without speaking: “why, howdye, uncle rufe," said loretta. . "this is june. you didn't know her, did ye?” the man laughed. something in june's bearing made him take off his hat; he came forward to shake hands, and june looked up into a pair of bold black eyes that stirred within her again the vague fears of her childhood. she had been afraid of him when she was a child, and it was the old fear aroused that made her recall him by his eyes now. his beard was gone and he was much changed. she trembled when she shook hands with him and she did not call him by his name. the trail of the lonesome pine old judd came in, and a moment later the two men and bub sat on the porch while the women worked, and when june rose again to go indoors, she felt the newcomer's bold eyes take her slowly in from head to foot and she turned crimson. this was the terror among the tollivers—bad rufe, come back from the west to take part in the feud. he saw the belt and the stockings and the shoes, the white column of her throat and the proud set of her gold-crowned head; he knew what they meant, he made her feel that he knew, and later he managed to catch her eyes once with an amused, half-contemptuous glance at the simple untrav- elled folk about them, that said plainly how well he knew they two were set apart from them, and she shrank fearfully from the comradeship that the glance implied and would look at him no more. he knew everything that was going on in the mountains. he had come back “ready for business,” he said. when he made ready to go, june went to her room and stayed there, but she heard him say to her father that he was going over to the gap, and with a laugh that chilled her soul: “i'm goin' over to kill me a policeman.” and her father warned gruffly: “you better keep away from thar. you don't understand them fellers." and she heard rufe's brutal laugh again, and as he rode into the creek his horse stumbled and she saw him cut cruelly at the poor beast's ears with the rawhide quirt that the trail of the lonesome pine he carried. she was glad when all went home, and the only ray of sunlight in the day for her radiated from uncle billy's face when, at sunset, he came to take old hon home. the old miller was the one unchanged soul to her in that he was the one soul that could see no change in june. he called her “baby” in the old way, and he talked to her now as he had talked to her as a child. he took her aside to ask her if she knew that hale had got his license to marry, and when she shook her head, his round, red face lighted up with the benediction of a rising sun: "well, that's what he's done, baby, an' he's axed me to marry ye,” he added, with boyish pride, “he's axed me. and june choked, her eyes filled, and she was dumb, but uncle billy could not see that it meant distress and not joy. he just put his arm around her and whispered: "i ain't told a soul, baby—not a soul.” she went to bed and to sleep with hale's face in the dream-mist of her brain, and uncle billy's, and the bold, black eyes of bad rufe tolliver-all fused, blurred, indistinguishable. then suddenly rufe's words struck that brain, word by word, like the clanging terror of a frightened bell. “i'm goin' to kill me a policeman.” and with the last word, it seemed, she sprang upright in bed, clutching the coverlid convulsively. daylight was showing gray through her window. she heard the trail of the lonesome pine a swift step up the steps, across the porch, the rat- tle of the door-chain, her father's quick call, then the rumble of two men's voices, and she knew as well what had happened as though she had heard every word they uttered. rufe had killed him a policeman-perhaps john hale—and with terror clutching her heart she sprang to the floor, and as she dropped the old purple gown over her shoul- ders, she heard the scurry of feet across the back porch-feet that ran swiftly but cautiously, and left the sound of them at the edge of the woods. she heard the back door close softly, the creaking of the bed as her father lay down again, and then a sudden splashing in the creek. kneeling at the window, she saw strange horsemen pushing toward the gate where one threw himself from his saddle, strode swiftly toward the steps, and her lips un- consciously made soft, little, inarticulate cries of joy-for the stern, gray face under the hat of the man was the face of john hale. after him pushed other men—fully armed—whom he motioned to either side of the cabin to the rear. by his side was bob berkley, and behind him was a red- headed falin whom she well remembered. within twenty feet, she was looking into that gray face, when the set lips of it opened in a loud command: “hello!” she heard her father's bed creak again, again the rattle of the door-chain, and then old judd stepped on the porch with a revolver in each hand. the trail of the lonesome pine “hello!” he answered sternly. “judd,” said hale sharply—and june had never heard that tone from him before—"a man with a black moustache killed one of our men over in the gap yesterday and we've tracked him over here. there's his horse—and we saw him go into that door. we want him.” “do you know who the feller is?” asked old judd calmly. “no,” said hale quickly. and then, with equal calm: “hit was my brother," and the old man's mouth closed like a vise. had the last word been a stone striking his ear, hale could hardly have been more stunned. again he called and almost gently: “watch the rear, there," and then gently he turned to devil judd. “ judd, your brother shot a man at the gap- without excuse or warning. he was an officer and a friend of mine, but if he were a stranger-we want him just the same. is he here?" judd looked at the red-headed man behind hale. “so you're turned on the falin side now, have ye?” he said contemptuously. “is he here?” repeated hale. “yes, an' you can't have him.” without a move toward his pistol hale stepped forward, and june saw her father's big right hand tighten on his huge pistol, and with a low cry she sprang to her feet. the trail of the lonesome pine “i'm an officer of the law,” hale said, “stand aside, judd!” bub leaped to the door with a win- chester-his eyes wild and his face white. . “watch out, men!” hale called, and as the men raised their guns there was a shriek inside the cabin and june stood at bub's side, barefooted, her hair tumbled about her shoulders, and her hand clutching the little cross at her throat. “stop!” she shrieked. “he isn't here. he's he's gone!” for a moment a sudden sickness smote hale's face, then devil judd's ruse flashed to him and, wheeling, he sprang to the ground. “quick!” he shouted, with a sweep of his hand right and left. “up those hollows! lead those horses up to the pine and wait. quick!” already the men were running as he directed and hale, followed by bob and the falin, rushed around the corner of the house. old judd's nos- trils were quivering, and with his pistols dangling in his hands he walked to the gate, listening to the sounds of the pursuit. “they'll never ketch him," he said, coming back, and then he dropped into a chair and sat in silence a long time. june reappeared, her face still white and her temples throbbing, for the sun was rising on days of darkness for her. devil judd did not even look at her. “i reckon you ain't goin' to marry john hale." “no, dad,” said june. xxv thus "hus fate did not wait until election day for the thing hale most dreaded-a clash that would involve the guard in the tolliver-falin troubles over the hills. there had been simply a preliminary political gathering at the gap the day before, but it had been a crucial day for the guard from a cloudy sunrise to a tragic sunset. early that morning, mockaby, the town-sergeant, had stepped into the street freshly shaven, with pol- ished boots, and in his best clothes for the eyes of his sweetheart, who was to come up that day to the gap from lee. before sunset he died with those boots on, while the sweetheart, unknowing, was bound on her happy way homeward, and rufe tolliver, who had shot mockaby, was clat- tering through the gap in flight for lonesome cove. as far as anybody knew, there had been but one tolliver and one falin in town that day, though many had noticed the tall western-looking stranger who, early in the afternoon, had ridden across the bridge over the north fork, but he was quiet and well-behaved, he merged into the crowd and through the rest of the afternoon was in no the trail of the lonesome pine way conspicuous, even when the one tolliver and the one falin got into a fight in front of the speak- er's stand and the riot started which came near ending in a bloody battle. the falin was clearly blameless and was let go at once. this angered the many friends of the tolliver, and when he was arrested there was an attempt at rescue, and the tolliver was dragged to the calaboose behind a slowly retiring line of policemen, who were jab- bing the rescuers back with the muzzles of cocked winchesters. it was just when it was all over, and the tolliver was safely jailed, that bad rufe galloped up to the calaboose, shaking with rage, for he had just learned that the prisoner was a tolliver. he saw how useless interference was, but he swung from his horse, threw the reins over its head after the western fashion and strode up to hale. “you the captain of this guard ?” “yes,” said hale; "and you?” rufe shook his head with angry impatience, and hale, think- ing he had some communication to make, ignored his refusal to answer. “i hear that a fellow can't blow a whistle or holler, or shoot off his pistol in this town without gittin' arrested.” “that's true rufe's black eyes gleamed vindictively. “nothin',” he said, and he turned to his horse. ten minutes later, as mockaby was passing - - why?” the trail of the lonesome pine down the dummy track, a whistle was blown on the river bank, a high yell was raised, a pistol shot quickly followed and he started for the sound of them on a run. a few minutes later three more pistol shots rang out, and hale rushed to the river bank to find mockaby stretched out on the ground, dying, and a mountaineer lout pointing after a man on horseback, who was making at a swift gallop for the mouth of the gap and the hills. “he done it," said the lout in a frightened way; “but i don't know who he was. within half an hour ten horsemen were clatter- ing after the murderer, headed by hale, logan, and the infant of the guard. where the road forked, a woman with a child in her arms said she had seen a tall, black-eyed man with a black moustache gallop up the right fork. she no more knew who he was than any of the pursuers. three miles up that fork they came upon a red-headed man leading his horse from a mountaineer's yard. “he went up the mountain,” the red-haired man said, pointing to the trail of the lonesome pine. “he's gone over the line. whut's he done -killed somebody?” “yes,” said hale shortly, starting up his horse. “i wish i'd a-knowed you was atter him. i'm sheriff over thar." now they were without warrant or requisition, and hale, pulling in, said sharply: the trail of the lonesome pine “we want that fellow. he killed a man at the gap. if we catch him over the line, we want you to hold him for us. come along!” the red- headed sheriff sprang on his horse and grinned eagerly: “i'm your man." “who was that fellow ?” asked hale as they galloped. the sheriff denied knowledge with a shake of his head. “what's your name?” the sheriff looked sharply at him for the effect of his answer. “jim falin.” and hale looked sharply back at him. he was one of the falins who long, long ago had gone to the gap for young dave tolliver, and now the falin grinned at hale. “i know you—all right.” no wonder the falin chuckled at this heaven-born chance to get a tol- liver into trouble. at the lonesome pine the traces of the fugi- tive's horse swerved along the mountain top—the shoe of the right forefoot being broken in half. that swerve was a blind and the sheriff knew it, but he knew where rufe tolliver would go and that there would be plenty of time to get him. . moreover, he had a purpose of his own and a se- cret fear that it might be thwarted, so, without a word, he followed the trail till darkness hid it and they had to wait until the moon rose. then as they started again, the sheriff said: “wait a minute," and plunged down the moun- the trail of the lonesome pine tain side on foot. a few minutes later he hallooed for hale, and down there showed him the tracks doubling backward along a foot-path. “regular rabbit, ain't he?" chuckled the sher- iff, and back they went to the trail again on which two hundred yards below the pine they saw the tracks pointing again to lonesome cove. on down the trail they went, and at the top of the spur that overlooked lonesome cove, the falin sheriff pulled in suddenly and got off his horse. there the tracks swerved again into the bushes. “he's goin' to wait till daylight, fer fear some- body's follered him. he'll come in back o' devil judd's.” “how do you know he's going to devil judd's?” asked hale. "whar else would he go?" asked the falin with a sweep of his arm toward the moonlit wilderness. “thar ain't but one house that way fer ten miles —and nobody lives thar.” “how do you know that he's going to any house?” asked hale impatiently. “he may be getting out of the mountains.” “d'you ever know a feller to leave these moun- tains jus' because he'd killed a man? how'd you foller him at night? how'd you ever ketch him with his start? what'd he turn that way fer, if he wasn't goin' to judd's—why d’n't he keep on down the river? if he's gone, he's gone. if he the trail of the lonesome pine it go of the woods at the back of the house and boldly around to the front of the house, where he left his horse in the yard and disappeared. “now send three men to ketch him if he runs out the back way-quick!” said the falin. “hit'll take 'em twenty minutes to git thar through the woods. soon's they git thar, let one of 'em shoot his pistol off an' that'll be the signal fer us. the three men started swiftly, but the pistol shot came before they had gone a hundred yards, for one of the three-a new man and unaccustomed to the use of fire-arms, stumbled over a root while he was seeing that his pistol was in order and let off accidentally. “no time to waste now," the falin called sharply. “git on yo' hosses and git!” then the rush was made and when they gave up the chase at noon that day, the sheriff looked hale squarely in the eye when hale sharply asked him a question: “why didn't you tell me who that man was?” “because i was afeerd you wouldn't go to devil judd's atter him. i know better now," and he shook his head, for he did not understand. and so hale at the head of the disappointed guard went back to the gap, and when, next day, they laid mockaby away in the thinly populated little graveyard that rested in the hollow of the river's arm, the spirit of law and order in the heart of every guard gave way to the spirit of revenge, and the grass would grow under the feet of none until the trail of the lonesome pine rufe tolliver was caught and the death-debt of the law was paid with death. that purpose was no less firm in the heart of hale, and he turned away from the grave, sick with the trick that fate had lost no time in playing him; for he was a falin now in the eyes of both factions and an enemy-even to june. the weeks dragged slowly along, and june sank slowly toward the depths with every fresh realiza- tion of the trap of circumstance into which she had fallen. she had dim memories of just such a state of affairs when she was a child, for the feud was on now and the three things that governed the life of the cabin in lonesome cove were hate, caution, and fear. bub and her father worked in the fields with their winchesters close at hand, and june was never easy if they were outside the house. if some- body shouted “hello”—that universal hail of friend or enemy in the mountains—from the gate after dark, one or the other would go out the back door and answer from the shelter of the corner of the house. neither sat by the light of the fire where he could be seen through the window nor carried a candle from one room to the other. and when either rode down the river, june must ride behind him to prevent ambush from the bushes, for no kentucky mountaineer, even to kill his worst enemy, will risk harming a woman. sometimes loretta would come and spend the day, the trail of the lonesome pine and she seemed little less distressed than june. dave was constantly in and out, and several times june had seen the red fox hanging around. al- ways the talk was of the feud. the killing of this tolliver and of that long ago was rehearsed over and over; all the wrongs the family had suffered at the hands of the falins were retold, and in spite of herself june felt the old hatred of her childhood reawakening against them so fiercely that she was startled: and she knew that if she were a man she would be as ready now to take up a winchester against the falins as though she had known no other life. loretta got no comfort from her in her tentative efforts to talk of buck falin, and once, indeed, june gave her a scathing rebuke. with every day her feeling for her father and bub was knit a little more closely, and toward dave grew a little more kindly. she had her moods even against hale, but they always ended in a storm of helpless tears. her father said little of hale, but that little was enough. young dave was openly exultant when he heard of the favouritism shown a falin by the guard at the gap, the effort hale had made to catch rufe tolliver and his well-known purpose yet to capture him; for the guard maintained a fund for the arrest and prosecution of criminals, and the reward it offered for rufe, dead or alive, was known by everybody on both sides of the state line. for nearly a week no word was heard the trail of the lonesome pine of the fugitive, and then one night, after supper, while june was sitting at the fire, the back door was opened, rufe slid like a snake within, and when june sprang to her feet with a sharp cry of terror, he gave his brutal laugh: “don't take much to skeer you—does it ?” shuddering she felt his evil eyes sweep her from head to foot, for the beast within was always un- leashed and ever ready to spring, and she dropped back into her seat, speechless. young dave, en- tering from the kitchen, saw rufe's look and the hostile lightning of his own eyes flashed at his foster-uncle, who knew straightway that he must not for his own safety strain the boy's jealousy too far. “you oughtn't to 'a' done it, rufe," said old judd a little later, and he shook his head. again rufe laughed: “no,” he said with a quick pacificatory look to young dave, “not to him!” the swift gritting of dave's teeth showed that he knew what was meant, and without warning the instinct of a pro- tecting tigress leaped within june. she had seen and had been grateful for the look dave gave the outlaw, but without a word she rose now and went to her own room. while she sat at her window, her step-mother came out the back door and left it open for a moment. through it june could hear the talk: “no,” said her father, “she ain't goin' to marry the trail of the lonesome pine him." dave grunted and rufe's voice came again: “ain't no danger, i reckon, of her tellin' on me?” "no," said her father gruffly, and the door banged. no, thought june, she wouldn't, even without her father's trust, though she loathed the man, and he was the only thing on earth of which she was afraid—that was the miracle of it and june won- dered. she was a tolliver and the clan loyalty of a century forbade—that was all. as she rose she saw a figure skulking past the edge of the woods. she called bub in and told him about it, and rufe stayed at the cabin all night, but june did not see him next morning, and she kept out of his way whenever he came again. a few nights later the red fox slouched up to the cabin with some herbs for the step-mother. old judd eyed him askance. “lookin' fer that reward, red ?" the old man had no time for the meek reply that was on his lips, for the old woman spoke up sharply: “you let red alone, judd—i tol him to come. and the red fox stayed to supper, and when rufe left the cabin that night, a bent figure with a big rifle and in moccasins sneaked after him. the next night there was a tap on hale's win- dow just at his bedside, and when he looked out he saw the red fox's big rifle, telescope, moccasins and all in the moonlight. the red fox had dis- covered the whereabouts of rufe tolliver, and the trail of the lonesome pine that very night he guided hale and six of the guard to the edge of a little clearing where the red fox pointed to a one-roomed cabin, quiet in the moonlight. hale had his requisition now. "ain't no trouble ketchin' rufe, if you bait him with a woman,” he snarled. “there mought be several tollivers in thar. wait till daybreak and git the drap on him, when he comes out.” and then he disappeared. surrounding the cabin, hale waited, and on top of the mountain, above lonesome cove, the red fox sat waiting and watching through his big tele- scope. through it he saw bad rufe step outside the door at daybreak and stretch his arms with a yawn, and he saw three men spring with levelled winchesters from behind a clump of bushes. the woman shot from the door behind rufe with a pistol in each hand, but rufe kept his hands in the air and turned his head to the woman who lowered the half-raised weapons slowly. when he saw the cavalcade start for the county seat with rufe manacled in the midst of them, he dropped swiftly down into lonesome cove to tell judd that rufe was a prisoner and to retake him on the way to jail. and, as the red fox well knew would hap- pen, old judd and young dave and two other tollivers who were at the cabin galloped into the county seat to find rufe in jail, and that jail guarded by seven grim young men armed with winchesters and shot-guns. the trail of the lonesome pine hale faced the old man quietly-eye to eye. “it's no use, judd,” he said, “you'd better let the law take its course. the old man was scorn- ful. “thar's never been a tolliver convicted of killin' nobody, much less hung-an' thar ain't goin' to be.” “i'm glad you warned me,” said hale still quietly, “though it wasn't necessary. but if he's convicted, he'll hang." the giant's face worked in convulsive helpless- ness and he turned away. “you hold the cyards now, but my deal is comin'." “all right, judd—you're getting a square one from me." back rode the tollivers and devil judd never opened his lips again until he was at home in lonesome cove. june was sitting on the porch when he walked heavy-headed through the gate. they've ketched rufe," he said, and after a moment he added gruffly: “thar's goin' to be sure enough trouble now. the falins'll think all them police fellers air on their side now. this ain't no place fer you-you must git away.' june shook her head and her eyes turned to the flowers at the edge of the garden: "i'm not goin' away, dad,” she said. the trail of the lonesome pine afternoon one of the falins, who had grown bolder, and in twos and threes were always at the trial, shot at a tolliver on the edge of town and there was an immediate turmoil between the factions that the red fox had been waiting for and that suited his dark purposes well. that very night, with his big rifle, he slipped through the woods to a turn of the road, over which old dave tolliver was to pass next morning, and built a “blind” behind some rocks and lay there smoking peacefully and dreaming his swedenbor- gian dreams. and when a wagon came round the turn, driven by a boy, and with the gaunt frame of old dave tolliver lying on straw in the bed of it, his big rifle thundered and the frightened horses dashed on with the red fox's last enemy, lifeless. coolly he slipped back to the woods, threw the shell from his gun, tirelessly he went by short cuts through the hills, and at noon, benevolent and smiling, he was on guard again. the little court room was crowded for the afternoon session. inside the railing sat rufe tolliver, white and defiant-manacled. leaning on the railing, to one side, was the red fox with his big pistols, his good profile calm, dreamy, kind to the other, similarly armed, was hale. at each of the gaping port-holes, and on each side of the door, stood a guard with a winchester, and around the railing outside were several more. in spite of window and port-hole the air was close and heavy the trail of the lonesome pine with the smell of tobacco and the sweat of men. here and there in the crowd was a red falin, but not a tolliver was in sight, and rufe tolliver sat alone. the clerk called the court to order after the fashion since the days before edward the con- fessor-except that he asked god to save a com- monwealth instead of a king—and the prosecuting attorney rose: “next witness, may it please your honour”: and as the clerk got to his feet with a slip of paper in his hand and bawled out a name, hale wheeled with a thumping heart. the crowd vibrated, turned heads, gave way, and through the human aisle walked june tolliver with the sheriff follow- ing meekly behind. at the railing-gate she stop- ped, head uplifted, face pale and indignant; and her eyes swept past hale as if he were no more than a wooden image, and were fixed with proud inquiry on the judge's face. she was bare- headed, her bronze hair was drawn low over her white brow, her gown was of purple home-spun, and her right hand was clenched tight about the chased silver handle of a riding whip, and in eyes, mouth, and in every line of her tense figure was the mute question: “why have you brought me here?” “here, please,” said the judge gently, as though he were about to answer that question, and as she passed hale she seemed to swerve her skirts aside that they might not touch him. the trail of the lonesome pine “swear her." june lifted her right hand, put her lips to the soiled, old, black bible and faced the jury and hale and bad rufe tolliver whose black eyes never left her face. “what is your name?” asked a deep voice that struck her ears as familiar, and before she an- swered she swiftly recalled that she had heard that voice speaking when she entered the door. “ june tolliver.” “your age?" "eighteen.” “you live" “in lonesome cove." “you are the daughter of- judd tolliver.” you know the prisoner ?” my foster-uncle.” "were you at home on the night of august the tenth ?” “i was." “have you ever heard the prisoner express any enmity against this volunteer police guard ?". he waved his hand toward the men at the port- holes and about the railing-unconsciously leav- ing his hand directly pointed at hale. june hesi- tated and rufe leaned one elbow on the table, and the light in his eyes beat with fierce intensity into the girl's eyes into which came a curious frightened look that hale remembered—the same look she “do “he is why have you brought me here?" the new york public library astor, lenox and tilden fondations l the trail of the lonesome pine had shown long ago when rufe's name was men- tioned in the old miller's cabin, and when going up the river road she had put her childish trust in him to see that her bad uncle bothered her no more. hale had never forgot that, and if it had not been absurd he would have stopped the pris- oner from staring at her now. an anxious look had come into rufe's eyes—would she lie for him ? “never,” said june. ah, she would—she was a tolliver and rufe took a breath of deep content. “you never heard him express any enmity toward the police guard—before that night?” “i have answered that question,” said june with dignity and rufe's lawyer was on his feet. “your honour, i object,” he said indignantly. “i apologize," said the deep voice—“sincerely," and he bowed to june. then very quietly: “what was the last thing you heard the prisoner say that afternoon when he left your father's house?” it had come—how well she remembered just what he had said and how, that night, even when she was asleep, rufe's words had clanged like a bell in her brain—what her awakening terror was when she knew that the deed was done and the stifling fear that the victim might be hale. swiftly her mind worked—somebody had blabbed, her step-mother, perhaps, and what rufe had said had reached a falin ear and come to the relent- less man in front of her. she remembered, too, the trail of the lonesome pine now, what the deep voice was saying as she came into the door: “there must be deliberation, a malicious pur- pose proven to make the prisoner's crime a capital offence-i admit that, of course, your honour. very well, we propose to prove that now," and then she had heard her name called. the proof that was to send rufe tolliver to the scaffold was to come from her—that was why she was there. her lips opened and rufe's eyes, like a snake's, caught her own again and held them. “he said he was going over to the gap- there was a commotion at the door, again the crowd parted, and in towered giant judd tolliver, pushing people aside as though they were straws, his bushy hair wild and his great frame shaking from head to foot with rage. “you went to my house,” he rumbled hoarsely -glaring at hale—“an' took my gal thar when i wasn't at home-you--" “order in the court,” said the judge sternly, but already at a signal from hale several guards were pushing through the crowd and old judd saw them coming and saw the falins about him and the winchesters at the port-holes, and he stopped with a hard gulp and stood looking at june. repeat his exact words," said the deep voice again as calmly as though nothing had happened. “he said, 'i'm goin' over to the gap-”” and still rufe's black eyes held her with mesmeric xxvii the he miracle had happened. the tollivers, following the red fox's advice to make no attempt at rescue just then, had waited, expecting the old immunity from the law and getting instead the swift sentence that rufe tolliver should be hanged by the neck until he was dead. astounding and convincing though the news was, no moun- taineer believed he would ever hang, and rufe himself faced the sentence defiant. he laughed when he was led back to his cell: “i'll never hang,” he said scornfully. they were the first words that came from his lips, and the first words that came from old judd's when the news reached him in lonesome cove, and that night old judd gathered his clan for the rescue- to learn next morning that during the night rufe had been spirited away to the capital for safe- keeping until the fatal day. and so there was quiet for a while-old judd making ready for the day when rufe should be brought back, and trying to find out who it was that had slain his brother dave. the falins denied the deed, but old judd never questioned that one of them was the mur- derer, and he came out openly now and made no the trail of the lonesome pine secret of the fact that he meant to have revenge. and so the two factions went armed, watchful and wary—especially the falins, who were lying low and waiting to fulfil a deadly purpose of their own. they well knew that old judd would not open hos- tilities on them until rufe tolliver was dead or at liberty. they knew that the old man meant to try to rescue rufe when he was brought back to jail or taken from it to the scaffold, and when either day came they themselves would take a hand, thus giving the tollivers at one and the same time two sets of foes. and so through the golden september days the two clans waited, and june tolliver went with dull determination back to her old life, for uncle billy's sister had left the house in fear and she could get no help-milking cows at cold dawns, helping in the kitchen, spinning flax and wool, and weaving them into rough garments for her father and step-mother and bub, and in time, she thought grimly-for herself: for not an- other cent for her maintenance could now come from john hale, even though he claimed it was hers—even though it was in truth her own. never, but once, had hale's name been mentioned in the cabin-never, but once, had her father referred to the testimony that she had given against rufe tolliver, for the old man put upon hale the fact that the sheriff had sneaked into his house when he was away and had taken june to court, and that was the crowning touch of bitterness in his the trail of the lonesome pine growing hatred for the captain of the guard of whom he had once been so fond. “course you had to tell the truth, baby, when they got you there,” he said kindly; "but kidnap- pin' you that-a-way,” he shook his great bushy head from side to side and dropped it into his hands. “i reckon that damn hale was the man who found out that you heard rufe say that. i'd like to know how—i'd like to git my hands on the fel- ler as told him." june opened her lips in simple justice to clear hale of that charge, but she saw such a terrified appeal in her step-mother's face that she kept her peace, let hale suffer for that, too, and walked out into her garden. never once had her piano been opened, her books had lain unread, and from her lips, during those days, came no song. when she was not at work, she was brooding in her room, or she would walk down to uncle billy's and sit at the mill with him while the old man would talk in tender helplessness, or under the honeysuckle vines with old hon, whose brusque kindness was of as little avail. and then, still silent, she would get wearily up and as quietly go away while the two old friends, worried to the heart, followed her sadly with their eyes. at other times she was brooding in her room or sitting in her garden, where she was now, and where she found most com- fort—the garden that hale had planted for her- the trail of the lonesome pine worthlessness of the mine in lonesome cove, and was holding out another hope. but if that, too, should fail-or if it should succeed—what then? old judd had sent back, with a curt refusal, the last allowance” he forwarded to june and he knew the old man was himself in straits. so june must stay in the mountains, and what would be- come of her? she had gone back to her mountain garb—would she lapse into her old life and ever again be content? yes, she would lapse, but never enough to keep her from being unhappy all her life, and at that thought he groaned. thus far he was responsible and the paramount duty with him had been that she should have the means to follow the career she had planned for herself out- side of those hills. and now if he had the means, he was helpless. there was nothing for him to do now but to see that the law had its way with rufe tolliver, and meanwhile he let the reawak- ened land deal go hang and set himself the task of finding out who it was that had ambushed old dave tolliver. so even when he was thinking of june his brain was busy on that mystery, and one night, as he sat brooding, a suspicion flashed that made him grip his chair with both hands and rise to pace the porch. old dave had been shot at dawn, and the night before the red fox had been absent from the guard and had not turned up until nearly noon next day. he had told hale that he was going home. two days later, hale the trail of the lonesome pine where the way looked easiest. half a mile down the ravine he came to a little brook, and there in the black earth was the faint print of a man's left foot and in the hard crust across was the deeper print of his right, where his weight in leaping had come down hard. but the prints were made by a shoe and not by a moccasin, and then hale re- called exultantly that the red fox did not have his moccasins on the morning he turned up on guard. all the while he kept a sharp lookout, right and left, on the ground—the red fox must have thrown his cartridge shell somewhere, and for that hale was looking. across the brook he could see the tracks no farther, for he was too little of a woodsman to follow so old a trail, but as he stood behind a clump of rhododendron, wondering what he could do, he heard the crack of a dead stick down the stream, and noiselessly he moved farther into the bushes. his heart thumped in the silence—the long silence that followed—for it might be a hostile tolliver that was coming, so he pulled his pistol from his holster, made ready, and then, noiseless as a shadow, the red fox slipped past him along the path, in his moccasins now, and with his big winchester in his left hand. the red fox, too, was looking for that cartridge shell, for only the night before had he heard for the first time of the whispered suspicions against him. he was making for the blind and hale trem- bled at his luck. there was no path on the other the trail of the lonesome pine “back away-turn around and hands up!" with his foot on the winchester, hale felt in the old man's pockets and fished out an empty cartridge shell. then he picked up the rifle and threw the slide. “it fits all right. march-toward that horse!” without a word the old man slouched ahead to where the big black horse was restlessly waiting in the bushes. ” said hale. “we won't 'ride and tie' back to town—but i'll take turns with the horse." “climb up, you on >> the red fox was making ready to leave the mountains, for he had been falsely informed that rufe was to be brought back to the county seat next day, and he was searching again for the sole bit of evidence that was out against him. and when rufe was spirited back to jail and was on his way to his cell, an old freckled hand was thrust between the bars of an iron door to greet him and a voice called him by name. rufe stopped in amazement; then he burst out laughing; he struck then at the pallid face through the bars with his manacles and cursed the old man bitterly; then he laughed again horribly. the two slept in adjoining cells of the same cage that night—the one waiting for the scaffold and the other waiting for the trial that was to send him there. and away over the blue mountains a little old woman xxviii an nd so while bad rufe tolliver was waiting for death, the trial of the red fox went on, and when he was not swinging in a hammock, reading his bible, telling his visions to his guards and singing hymns, he was in the court house giving shrewd answers to questions, or none at all, with the benevolent half of his mask turned to the jury and the wolfish snarl of the other half show- ing only now and then to some hostile witness for whom his hate was stronger than his fear for his own life. and in jail bad rufe worried his enemy with the malicious humour of satan. now he would say: “oh, there ain't nothin' betwixt old red and me, nothin' at all—'cept this iron wall," and he would drum a vicious tattoo on the thin wall with the heel of his boot. or when he heard the creak of the red fox's hammock as he droned his bible aloud, he would say to his guard outside: “course i don't read the bible an' preach the word, nor talk with sperits, but thar's worse men than me in the world-old red in thar' for in- stance”; and then he would cackle like a fiend and the red fox would writhe in torment and the trail of the lonesome pine beg to be sent to another cell. and always he would daily ask the red fox about his trial and ask him questions in the night, and his devilish instinct told him the day that the red fox, too, was sentenced to death—he saw it in the gray pal- lour of the old man's face, and he cackled his glee like a demon. for the evidence against the red fox was too strong. where june sat as chief witness against rufe tolliver- john hale sat as chief witness against the red fox. he could not swear it was a cartridge shell that he saw the old man pick up, but it was something that glistened in the sun, and a moment later he had found the shell in the old man's pocket—and if it had been fired innocently, why was it there and why was the old man searching for it? he was looking, he said, for evidence of the murderer himself. that claim made, the red fox's lawyer picked up the big rifle and the shell. “you say, mr. hale, the prisoner told you the night you spent at his home that this rifle was rim-fire?" “he did.” the lawyer held up the shell. “you see this was exploded in such a rifle.” that was plain, and the lawyer shoved the shell into the rifle, pulled the trigger, took it out, and held it up again. the plunger had struck below the rim and near the centre, but not quite on the centre, and hale asked for the rifle and examined it closely. the trail of the lonesome pine “it's been tampered with,” he said quietly, and he handed it to the prosecuting attorney. the fact was plain; it was a bungling job and better proved the red fox's guilt. moreover, there were only two such big rifles in all the hills, and it was proven that the man who owned the other was at the time of the murder far away. the days of brain-storms had not come then. there were no eminent alienists to prove insanity for the pris- oner. apparently, he had no friends—none save the little old woman in black who sat by his side, hour by hour and day by day. and the red fox was doomed. in the hush of the court room the judge sol- emnly put to the gray face before him the usual question: “have you anything to say whereby sentence of death should not be pronounced on you?” the red fox rose: “no,” he said in a shaking voice; "but i have a friend here who i would like to speak for me. the judge bent his head a moment over his bench and lifted it: “it is unusual,” he said; "but under the cir- cumstances i will grant your request. who is your friend?” and the red fox made the souls of his listeners leap. “jesus christ,” he said. the judge reverently bowed his head and the hush of the court room grew deeper when the the trail of the lonesome pine old man fished his bible from his pocket and calmly read such passages as might be interpreted as sure damnation for his enemies and sure glory for himself-read them until the judge lifted his hand for a halt. and so another sensation spread through the hills and a superstitious awe of this strange new power that had come into the hills went with it hand in hand. only while the doubting ones knew that nothing could save the red fox they would wait to see if that power could really avail against the tolliver clan. the day set for rufe's execu- tion was the following monday, and for the red fox the friday following—for it was well to have the whole wretched business over while the guard was there. old judd tolliver, so hale learned, had come himself to offer the little old woman in black the refuge of his roof as long as she lived, and had tried to get her to go back with him to lonesome cove; but it pleased the red fox that he should stand on the scaffold in a suit of white- cap and all—as emblems of the purple and fine linen he was to put on above, and the little old woman stayed where she was, silently and without question, cutting the garments, as hale pityingly learned, from a white table-cloth and measuring them piece by piece with the clothes the old man wore in jail. it pleased him, too, that his body should be kept unburied three days—saying that he would then arise and go about preaching, and the trail of the lonesome pine that duty, too, she would as silently and with as little question perform. moreover, he would preach his own funeral sermon on the sunday before rufe's day, and a curious crowd gathered to hear him. the red fox was led from jail. he stood on the porch of the jailer's house with a little table in front of him. on it lay a bible, on the other side of the table sat a little pale-faced old woman in black with a black sun-bonnet drawn close to her face. by the side of the bible lay a few pieces of bread. it was the red fox's last communion—a communion which he admin- istered to himself and in which there was no other soul on earth to join save that little old woman in black. and when the old fellow lifted the bread and asked the crowd to come forward to partake with him in the last sacrament, not a soul moved. only the old woman who had been ill-treated by the red fox for so many years-only she, of all the crowd, gave any answer, and she for one in- stant turned her face toward him. with a churlish gesture the old man pushed the bread over toward her and with hesitating, trembling fingers she reached for it. bob berkley was on the death-watch that night, and as he passed rufe's cell a wiry hand shot through the grating of his door, and as the boy sprang away the condemned man's fingers tipped the butt of the big pistol that dangled on the lad's hip. the trail of the lonesome pine come birds flew in on him like a gust of rain and perched over and around him, twittering at him until he had to get up and pace the woods, and how, throughout the next day, when he sat in the sun planning his escape, those birds would sweep chattering over his head and sweep chattering back again, and in that mood of despair he had said once, and only once: “somehow i knowed this time my name was dennis”—a phrase of evil prophecy he had picked up outside the hills. and now those same birds of evil omen had again, he believed, right on the heels of the last sworn oath old judd had sent him that he would never hang. with the day, through mountain and valley, came in converging lines mountain humanity men and women, boys and girls, children and babes in arms; all in their sunday best-the men in jeans, slouched hats, and high boots, the women ribbons and brilliant home-spun; in wag- ons, on foot and on horses and mules, carrying man and man, man and boy, lover and sweetheart, or husband and wife and child-all moving through the crisp autumn air, past woods of russet and crimson and along brown dirt roads, to the strag- gling little mountain town. a stranger would have thought that a county fair, a camp-meeting, or a circus was their goal, but they were on their way to look upon the court house with its black port-holes, the graystone jail, the tall wooden box, in gay the trail of the lonesome pine disarmed of his winchester as he came in, and as yet no tolliver had entered the town, for wily old judd had learned of hale's tactics and had stayed outside the town for his own keen purpose. as the minutes passed, hale was beginning to wonder whether, after all, old judd had come to believe that the odds against him were too great, and had told the truth when he set afoot the rumour that the law should have its way; and it was just when his load of anxiety was beginning to lighten that there was a little commotion at the edge of the court house and a great red-headed figure pushed through the crowd, followed by another of like build, and as the people rapidly gave way and fell back, a line of falins slipped along the wall and stood under the port-holes-quiet, watchful, and determined. almost at the same time the crowd fell back the other way up the street, there was the hurried tramping of feet and on came the tolli- vers, headed by giant judd, all armed with win- chesters—for old judd had sent his guns in ahead —and as the crowd swept like water into any chan- nel of alley or doorway that was open to it, hale saw the yard emptied of everybody but the line of falins against the wall and the tollivers in a body but ten yards in front of them. the people on the roofs and in the trees had not moved at all, for they were out of range. for a moment old judd's eyes swept the windows and port-holes of the court house, the windows of the jailer's house, the line the trail of the lonesome pine of guards about the jail, and then they dropped to the line of falins and glared with contemptuous hate into the leaping blue eyes of old buck falin, and for that moment there was silence. in that silence and as silently as the silence itself issued swiftly from the line of guards twelve youngsters with winchesters, repeating shot-guns, and in a minute six were facing the falins and six facing the tollivers, each with his shot-gun at his hip. at the head of them stood hale, his face a pale image, as hard as though cut from stone, his head bare, and his hand and his hip weaponless. in all that crowd there was not a man or a woman who had not seen or heard of him, for the power of the guard that was at his back had radiated through that wild region like ripples of water from a dropped stone and, unarmed even, he had a per- sonal power that belonged to no other man in all those hills, though armed to the teeth. his voice rose clear, steady, commanding: “the law has come here and it has come to stay.” he faced the beetling eyebrows and angrily working beard of old judd now: “the falins are here to get revenge on you tollivers, if you attack us. i know that. but”- he wheeled on the falins—"understand! we don't want your help! if the tollivers try to take that man in there, and one of you falins draws a pistol, those guns there”—waving his hand toward the jail windows—“will be turned loose on you. the trail of the lonesome pine we'll fight you both!” the last words shot like bullets through his gritted teeth, then the flash of his eyes was gone, his face was calm, and as though the whole matter had been settled beyond possible interruption, he finished quietly: “the condemned man wishes to make a con- fession and to say good-by. in five minutes he will be at that window to say what he pleases. ten minutes later he will be hanged.” and he turned and walked calmly into the jailer's door. not a tolliver nor a falin made a movement or a sound. young dave's eyes had glared savagely when he first saw hale, for he had marked hale for his own and he knew that the fact was known to hale. had the battle begun then and there, hale's death was sure, and dave knew that hale must know that as well as he: and yet with magnifi- cent audacity, there he was—unarmed, personally helpless, and invested with an insulting certainty that not a shot would be fired. not a falin or a tolliver even reached for a weapon, and the fact was the subtle tribute that ignorance pays intelli- gence when the latter is forced to deadly weapons as a last resort; for ignorance faced now belching shot-guns and was commanded by rifles on every side. old judd was trapped and the falins were stunned. old buck falin turned his eyes down the line of his men with one warning glance. old judd whispered something to a tolliver behind him and a moment later the man slipped from the “we'll fight you both!” the trail of the lonesome pine who had been singing hymns with him all morning wanted him to confess; the man himself said he wanted to confess; and now he was going to con- fess. what deadly mysteries he might clear up if he would! no wonder the crowd was eager, for there was no soul there but knew his record and what a record! his best friends put his victims no lower than thirteen, and there looking up at him were three women whom he had widowed or or- phaned, while at one corner of the jail-yard stood a girl in black—the sweetheart of mockaby, for whose death rufe was standing where he stood now. but his lips did not open. instead he took hold of the side of the window and looked behind him. the sheriff brought him a chair and he sat down. apparently he was weak and he was going to wait a while. would he tell how he had killed one falin in the presence of the latter's wife at a wild bee tree; how he had killed a sheriff by drop- ping to the ground when the sheriff fired, in this way dodging the bullet and then shooting the officer from where he lay supposedly dead; how he had thrown another falin out of the court house window and broken his neck—the falin was drunk, rufe always said, and fell out; why, when he was constable, he had killed another- because, rufe said, he resisted arrest; how and where he had killed red-necked johnson, who was found out in the woods ? would he tell all that and more? if he meant to tell there was no the trail of the lonesome pine sign. his lips kept closed and his bright black eyes were studying the situation; the little squad of youngsters, back to back, with their repeating shot-guns, the line of falins along the wall toward whom protruded six shining barrels, the huddled crowd of tollivers toward whom protruded six more--old judd towering in front with young dave on one side, tense as a leopard about to spring, and on the other bub, with tears streaming down his face. in a flash he understood, and in that flash his face looked as though he had been suddenly struck a heavy blow by some one from behind, and then his elbows dropped on the sill of the window, his chin dropped into his hands and a murmur arose. maybe he was too weak to stand and talk-perhaps he was going to talk from his chair. yes, he was leaning forward and his lips were opening, but no sound came. slowly his eyes wandered around at the waiting people-in the trees, on the roofs and the fence—and then they dropped to old judd's and blazed their appeal for a sign. with one heave of his mighty chest old judd took off his slouch hat, pressed one big hand to the back of his head and, despite that blazing appeal, kept it there. at that movement rufe threw his head up as though his breath had sud- denly failed him, his face turned sickening white, and slowly again his chin dropped into his trem- bling hands, and still unbelieving he stared his appeal, but old judd dropped his big hand and the trail of the lonesome pine turned his head away. the condemned man's mouth twitched once, settled into defiant calm, and then he did one kindly thing. he turned in his seat and motioned bob berkley, who was just behind him, away from the window, and the boy, to humour him, stepped aside. then he rose to his feet and stretched his arms wide. simultane- ously came the far-away crack of a rifle, and as a jet of smoke spurted above a clump of bushes on a little hill, three hundred yards away, bad rufe wheeled half-way round and fell back out of sight into the sheriff's arms. every falin made a ner- vous reach for his pistol, the line of gun-muzzles covering them wavered slightly, but the tollivers stood still and unsurprised, and when hale dashed from the door again, there was a grim smile of triumph on old judd's face. he had kept his promise that rufe should never hang. "steady there,” said hale quietly. his pistol was on his hip now and a winchester was in his left hand. “stand where you are everybody!” there was the sound of hurrying feet within the jail. there was the clang of an iron door, the bang of a wooden one, and in five minutes from within the tall wooden box came the sharp click of a hatchet and then-dully: t-h- - -mp!” the dangling rope had tight- ened with a snap and the wind swayed it no more. at his cell door the red fox stood with his the trail of the lonesome pine watch in his hand and his eyes glued to the second- hand. when it had gone three times around its circuit, he snapped the lid with a sigh of relief and turned to his hammock and his bible. "he's gone now," said the red fox. outside hale still waited, and as his eyes turned from the tollivers to the falins, seven of the faces among them came back to him with startling dis- tinctness, and his mind went back to the opening trouble in the county-seat over the kentucky line, years before—when eight men held one another at the points of their pistols. one face was missing, and that face belonged to rufe tolliver. hale pulled out his watch. “keep those men there,” he said, pointing to the falins, and he turned to the bewildered tollivers. “come on, judd,” he said kindly—“all of you.” dazed and mystified, they followed him in a body around the corner of the jail, where in a coffin, that old judd had sent as a blind to his real purpose, lay the remains of bad rufe tolliver with a harmless bullet hole through one shoulder. near by was a wagon and hitched to it were two mules that hale himself had provided. hale pointed to it: "i've done all i could, judd. take him away. i'll keep the falins under guard until you reach the kentucky line, so that they can't waylay you." if old judd heard, he gave no sign. he was the trail of the lonesome pine looking down at the face of his foster-brother-his shoulder drooped, his great frame shrunken, and his iron face beaten and helpless. again hale spoke: “i'm sorry for all this. i'm even sorry that your man was not a better shot." the old man straightened then and with a gesture he motioned young dave to the foot of the coffin and stooped himself at the head. past the wagon they went, the crowd giving way before them, and with the dead tolliver on their shoul- ders, old judd and young dave passed with their followers out of sight. xxx the longest of her life was that day to june. the anxiety in times of war for the women who wait at home is vague because they are mer- cifully ignorant of the dangers their loved ones run, but a specific issue that involves death to those loved ones has a special and poignant terror of its own. june knew her father's plan, the precise time the fight would take place, and the especial danger that was hale's, for she knew that young dave tolliver had marked him with the first shot fired. dry-eyed and white and dumb, she watched them make ready for the start that morning while it was yet dark; dully she heard the horses snort- ing from the cold, the low curt orders of her father, and the exciting mutterings of bub and young dave; dully she watched the saddles thrown on, the pistols buckled, the winchesters caught up, and dully she watched them file out the gate and ride away, single file, into the cold, damp mist like ghostly figures in a dream. once only did she open her lips and that was to plead with her father to leave bub at home, but her father gave her no answer and bub snorted his indignation—he was a man now, and his now was the privilege of a the trail of the lonesome pine proof there was her step-mother's voice now—the same old, querulous, nerve-racking voice that had embittered all her childhood-calling her down into the old mean round of drudgery that had bound forever the horizon of her narrow life just as now it was shutting down like a sky of brass around her own. and when the voice came, in- stead of bursting into tears as she was about to do, she gave a hard little laugh and she lifted a defiant face to the rising sun. there was a limit to the sacrifice for kindred, brother, father, home, and that limit was the eternal sacrifice the eternal undoing of herself: when this wretched terrible business was over she would set her feet where that sun could rise on her, busy with the work that she could do in that world for which she felt she was born. swiftly she did the morning chores and then she sat on the porch thinking and waiting. spinning wheel, loom, and darning needle were to lie idle that day. the old step-mother had gotten from bed and was dressing herself—miraculously cured of a sudden, miraculously active. she be- gan to talk of what she needed in town, and june said nothing. she went out to the stable and led out the old sorrel-mare. she was going to the hanging “don't you want to go to town, june ?” “no,” said june fiercely. "well, you needn't git mad about it, i got to go some day this week, and i reckon i might as the trail of the lonesome pine the ship. thinking hard, she walked on slowly, with her hands behind her and her eyes bent on the road. what should she do? she had no money, her father had none to spare, and she could accept no more from hale. once she stopped and stared with unseeing eyes at the blue sky, and once under the heavy helplessness of it all she dropped on the side of the road and sat with her head buried in her arms—sat so long that she rose with a start and, with an apprehensive look at the mounting sun, hurried on. she would go to the gap and teach; and then she knew that if she went there it would be on hale's account. very well, she would not blind herself to that fact; she would go and perhaps all would be made up be- tween them, and then she knew that if that but happened, nothing else could matter. ... when she reached the miller's cabin, she went to the porch without noticing that the door was closed. nobody was at home and she turned list- lessly. when she reached the gate, she heard the clock beginning to strike, and with one hand on her breast she breathlessly listened, counting- "eight, nine, ten, eleven”—and her heart seemed to stop in the fraction of time that she waited for it to strike once more. but it was only eleven, and she went on down the road slowly, still thinking hard. the old miller was leaning back in a chair against the log side of the mill, with his dusty slouched hat down over his eyes. he did not hear the trail of the lonesome pine where judd and dave and bub left them to go home for the night and be on hand for the funeral next day. but uncle billy led her back to his cabin, and on the porch the two, with old hon, waited while the three hours dragged along. it was june who was first to hear the galloping of horses' hoofs up the road and she ran to the gate, followed by uncle billy and old hon to see young dave tolliver coming in a run. at the gate he threw himself from his horse: “git up thar, june, and go home,” he panted sharply. june flashed out the gate. “have you done it?" she asked with deadly quiet. “hurry up an' go home, i tell ye! uncle judd wants ye!” she came quite close to him now. “you said you'd do it-i know what you've done—you—” she looked as if she would fly at his throat, and dave, amazed, shrank back a step. “go home, i tell ye-uncle judd's shot. git on the hoss!” “no, no, no! i wouldn't touch anything that was yours”—she put her hands to her head as though she were crazed, and then she turned and broke into a swift run up the road. panting, june reached the gate. the front door was closed and there she gave a tremulous cry for bub. the door opened a few inches and through it bub shouted for her to come on. the back door, too, was closed, and not a ray of daylight the trail of the lonesome pine entered the room except at the port-hole where bub, with a winchester, had been standing on guard. by the light of the fire she saw her father's giant frame stretched out on the bed and she heard his laboured breathing. swiftly she went to the bed and dropped on her knees beside it. “dad!” she said. the old man's eyes opened and turned heavily toward her. “all right, juny. they shot me from the laurel and they might nigh got bub. i reckon they've got me this time." “no—no!” he saw her eyes fixed on the matted blood on his chest. “hit's stopped. i'm afeared hit's bleedin' in- side." his voice had dropped to a whisper and his eyes closed again. there was another cautious "hello" outside, and when bub again opened the door dave ran swiftly within. he paid no atten- tion to june. “i follered june back an' left my hoss in the bushes. there was three of 'em." he showed bub a bullet hole through one sleeve and then he turned half contemptuously to june: “i hain't done it”-adding grimly—“not yit. he's as safe as you air. i hope you're satisfied that hit hain't him 'stid o'yo' daddy thar.” “are you going to the gap for a doctor?” “i reckon i can't leave bub here alone agin all the falins—not even to git a doctor or to carry a love-message fer you.' the trail of the lonesome pine and through the long night june thought her brain weary over herself, her life, her people, and hale. they were not to blame—her people, they but did as their fathers had done before them. they had their own code and they lived up to it as best they could, and they had had no chance to learn another. she felt the vindictive hatred that had prolonged the feud. had she been a man, she could not have rested until she had slain the man who had ambushed her father. she expected bub to do that now, and if the spirit was so strong in her with the training she had had, how helpless they must be against it. even dave was not to blame-not to blame for loving her—he had always done that. for that reason he could not help ha- ting hale, and how great a reason he had now, for he could not understand as she could the absence of any personal motive that had governed him in the prosecution of the law, no matter if he hurt friend or foe. but for hale, she would have loved dave and now be married to him and happier than she was. dave saw that—no wonder he hated hale. and as she slowly realized all these things, she grew calm and gentle and determined to stick to her people and do the best she could with her life. and now and then through the night old judd would open his eyes and stare at the ceiling, and at these times it was not the pain in his face that distressed her as much as the drawn beaten look the trail of the lonesome pine that she had noticed growing in it for a long time. it was terrible—that helpless look in the face of a man, so big in body, so strong of mind, so iron- like in will; and whenever he did speak she knew what he was going to say: “it's all over, juny. they've beat us on every turn. they've got us one by one. thar ain't but a few of us left now and when i git up, if i ever do, i'm goin' to gether 'em all together, pull up stakes and take 'em all west. you won't ever leave me, juny ?” “no, dad," she would say gently. he had asked the question at first quite sanely, but as the night wore on and the fever grew and his mind wandered, he would repeat the question over and over like a child, and over and over, while bub and dave slept and the rain poured, june would repeat her answer: “i'll never leave you, dad." xxxi before dawn hale and the doctor and the old miller had reached the pine, and there hale stopped. any farther, the old man told him, he would go only at the risk of his life from dave or bub, or even from any falin who happened to be hanging around in the bushes, for hale was hated equally by both factions now. “i'll wait up here until noon, uncle billy,” said hale. “ask her, for god's sake, to come up here and see me. "all right. i'll axe her, but," the old miller shook his head. breakfastless, except for the munching of a piece of chocolate, hale waited all the morning with his black horse in the bushes some thirty yards from the lonesome pine. every now and then he would go to the tree and look down the path, and once he slipped far down the trail and aside to a spur whence he could see the cabin in the cove. once his hungry eyes caught sight of a woman's figure walking through the little garden, and for an hour after it disap- peared into the house he watched for it to come out again. but nothing more was visible, and he turned back to the trail to see uncle billy labori- the trail of the lonesome pine ously climbing up the slope. hale waited and ran down to meet him, his face and eyes eager and his lips trembling, but again uncle billy was shaking his head. “no use, john,” he said sadly. “i got her out on the porch and axed her, but she won't come.” “she won't come at all?" “john, when one o' them tollivers gits white about the mouth, an' thar eyes gits to blazin' and they keeps quiet—they're plumb out o' reach o' the almighty hisself. june skeered me. but you mustn't blame her jes' now. you see, you got up that guard. you ketched rufe and hung him, and she can't help thinkin' if you hadn't done that, her old daddy wouldn't be in thar on his back nigh to death. you mustn't blame her, john- she's most out o' her head now." “all right, uncle billy. good-by.” hale turned, climbed sadly back to his horse and sadly dropped down the other side of the mountain and on through the rocky gap-home. a week later he learned from the doctor that the chances were even that old judd would get well, but the days went by with no word of june. through those days june wrestled with her love for hale and her loyalty to her father, who, sick as he was, seemed to have a vague sense of the trouble within her and shrewdly fought it by making her daily promise that she would never leave him. for as old judd got better, june's fierceness against the trail of the lonesome pine and while the old man snorted with contemptuous disbelief at them as a pretence to throw him off his guard, dave began actually to believe that they were sincere, and straightway forged a plan of his own, even if the tollivers did persist in going west. so one morning as he mounted his horse at old judd's gate, he called to june in the gar- den: “i'm a-goin' over to the gap.” june paled, but dave was not looking at her. “what for?” she asked, steadying her voice. “business,” he answered, and he laughed curi- ously and, still without looking at her, rode away. hale sat in the porch of his little office that morning, and the hon. sam budd, who had risen to leave, stood with his hands deep in his pockets, his hat tilted far over his big goggles, looking down at the dead leaves that floated like lost hopes on the placid mill-pond. hale had agreed to go to england once more on the sole chance left him before he went back to chain and compass—the old land deal that had come to life—and between them they had about enough money for the trip. “you'll keep an eye on things over there?" said hale with a backward motion of his head toward lonesome cove, and the hon. sam nodded his head: “all i can." “those big trunks of hers are still here.” the the trail of the lonesome pine hon. sam smiled. “she won't need 'em. i'll keep an eye on 'em and she can come over and get what she wants-every year or two,” he added grimly, and hale groaned. stop it, sam.” “all right. you ain't goin' to try to see her before you leave?” and then at the look on hale's face he said hurriedly: “all right-all right," and with a toss of his hands turned away, while hale sat thinking where he was. rufe tolliver had been quite right as to the red fox. nobody would risk his life for him- there was no one to attempt a rescue, and but a few of the guards were on hand this time to carry out the law. on the last day he had appeared in his white suit of tablecloth. the little old woman in black had made even the cap that was to be drawn over his face, and that, too, she had made of white. moreover, she would have his body kept unburied for three days, because the red fox said that on the third day he would arise and go about preaching. so that even in death the red fox was consistently inconsistent, and how he reconciled such a dual life at one and the same time over and under the stars was, except to his twisted brain, never known. he walked firmly up the scaffold steps and stood there blinking in the sunlight. with one hand he tested the rope. for a moment he looked at the sky and the trees with a face that was white and absolutely expressionless. the trail of the lonesome pine then he sang one hymn of two verses and quietly dropped into that world in which he believed so firmly and toward which he had trod so strange a way on earth. as he wished, the little old woman in black had the body kept unburied for the three days—but the red fox never rose. with his pass- ing, law and order had become supreme. neither tolliver nor falin came on the virginia side for mischief, and the desperadoes of two sister states, whose skirts are stitched together with pine and pin-oak along the crest of the cumberland, con- fined their deviltries with great care to places long distant from the gap. john hale had done a great work, but the limit of his activities was that state line and the falins, ever threatening that they would not leave a tolliver alive, could carry out those threats and hale not be able to lift a hand. it was his helplessness that was making him writhe now. old judd had often said he meant to leave the mountains—why didn't he go now and take june for whose safety his heart was always in his mouth? as an officer, he was now helpless where he was; and if he went away he could give no personal aid - he would not even know what was happening- and he had promised budd to go. an open letter was clutched in his hand, and again he read it. his coal company had accepted his last proposi- tion. they would take his stock-worthless as they thought it—and surrender the cabin and two the trail of the lonesome pine come. hundred acres of field and woodland in lonesome cove. that much at least would be intact, but if he failed in his last project now, it would be sub- ject to judgments against him that were sure to so there was one thing more to do for june before he left for the final effort in england- to give back her home to her—and as he rose to do it now, somebody shouted at his gate: “hello!” hale stopped short at the head of the steps, his right hand shot like a shaft of light to the butt of his pistol, stayed there—and he stood astounded. it was dave tolliver on horse- back, and dave's right hand had kept hold of his bridle-reins. “hold on!” he said, lifting the other with a wide gesture of peace. “i want to talk with you still hale watched him closely as he swung from his horse. “come in—won't you?” the mountaineer hitched his horse and slouched within the gate. “have a seat.” dave dropped to the steps. “i'll set here,” he said, and there was an em- barrassed silence for a while between the two. hale studied young dave's face from narrowed eyes. he knew all the threats the tolliver had made against him, the bitter enmity that he felt, and that it would last until one or the other was dead. this was a queer move. the mountaineer took off his slouched hat and ran one hand through his thick black hair. a bit.” the trail of the lonesome pine money, an' i “i reckon you've heard as how all our folks air sellin' out over the mountains." “no,” said hale quickly. “well, they air, an' all of 'em are going west- uncle judd, loretty and june, and all our kin- folks. you didn't know that ?” “no,” repeated hale. "well, they hain't closed all the trades yit,” he said, “an' they mought not go mebbe afore spring. the falins say they air done now. uncle judd don't believe 'em, but i do, an' i'm thinkin' i won't go. i've got a a leetle want to know if i can't buy back uncle judd's house an’ a leetle ground around it. our folks is tired o' fightin' and i couldn't live on t'other side of the mountain, after they air gone, an' keep as healthy as on this side—so i thought i'd see if i couldn't buy back june's old home, mebbe, an' live thar.” hale watched him keenly, wondering what his game was—and he went on: “i know the house an' land ain't wuth much to your company, an'as the coal-vein has petered out, i reckon they might not axe much fer it.” it was all out now, and he stopped without looking at hale. “i ain't axin any favours, leastwise not o' you, an' i thought my share o' mam's farm mought be enough to git me the house an' some o' the land." “you mean to live there, yourself ?” “yes." the trail of the lonesome pine budd's heart thumped and he almost shrank him- self from the terrific sweep of the big fist. “god!” he muttered, for had the fist caught hale's head it must, it seemed, have crushed it like an egg-shell. hale coolly withdrew his head not more than an inch, it seemed to budd's practised eye, and jabbed his right with a lightning uppercut into dave's jaw, that made the mountaineer reel backward with a grunt of rage and pain, and when he followed it up with a swing of his left on dave's right eye and another terrific jolt with his right on the left jaw, and budd saw the crazy rage in the mountaineer's face, he felt easy. in that rage dave forgot his science as the hon. sam ex- pected, and with a bellow he started at hale like a cave-dweller to bite, tear, and throttle, but the lithe figure before him swayed this way and that like a shadow, and with every side-step a fist crushed on the mountaineer's nose, chin or jaw, until, blinded with blood and fury, dave staggered aside toward the sergeant with the cry of a mad- man: gimme my gun! i'll kill him! gimme my gun!” and when the sergeant sprang forward and caught the mountaineer, he dropped weeping with rage and shame to the ground. “you two just go back to town,” said the ser- geant. “i'll take keer of him. quick!” and he shook his head as hale advanced. “he ain't goin' to shake hands with you." the trail of the lonesome pine the two turned back across the bridge and hale went on to budd's office to do what he was setting out to do when young dave came. there he had the lawyer make out a deed in which the cabin in lonesome cove and the acres about it were conveyed in fee simple to june—her heirs and assigns forever; but the girl must not know until, hale said, “her father dies, or i die, or she marries.” when he came out the sergeant was passing the door. “ain't no use fightin' with one o' them fellers thataway,” he said, shaking his head. “if he whoops you, he'll crow over you as long as he lives, and if you whoop him, he'll kill ye the fust chance he gets. you'll have to watch that feller as long as you live—’specially when he's drinking. he'll remember that lickin' and want revenge fer it till the grave. one of got to die some day- shore." and the sergeant was right. dave was going through the gap at that moment, cursing, swaying like a drunken man, firing his pistol and shouting his revenge to the echoing gray walls that took up his cries and sent them shrieking on the wind up every dark ravine. all the way up the mountain he was cursing. under the gentle voice of the big pine he was cursing still, and when his lips stopped, his heart was beating curses as he dropped down the other side of the mountain. when he reached the river, he got off his horse you has the trail of the lonesome pine and bathed his mouth and his eyes again, and he cursed afresh when the blood started afresh at his lips again. for a while he sat there in his black mood, undecided whether he should go to his uncle's cabin or go on home. but he had seen a woman's figure in the garden as he came down the spur, and the thought of june drew him to the cabin in spite of his shame and the questions that were sure to be asked. when he passed around the clump of rhododendrons at the creek, june was in the garden still. she was pruning a rose- bush with bub's penknife, and when she heard him coming she wheeled, quivering. she had been waiting for him all day, and, like an angry goddess, she swept fiercely toward him. dave pretended not to see her, but when he swung from his horse and lifted his sullen eyes, he shrank as though she had lashed him across them with a whip. her eyes blazed with murderous fire from her white face, the penknife in her hand was clenched as though for a deadly purpose, and on her trembling lips was the same question that she had asked him at the mill: "have you done it this time?” she whispered, and then she saw his swollen mouth and his bat- tered eye. her fingers relaxed about the handle of the knife, the fire in her eyes went swiftly down, and with a smile that was half pity, half contempt, she turned away. she could not have told the whole truth better in words, even to dave, and as the trail of the lonesome pine “he bought it from the company. it's just as well you're goin' away, uncle judd. he'd put you out." “i reckon not. i got writin' from the company which 'lows me to stay here two year or more—if i want to.” “i don't know. he's a slick one.' “i heerd him say,” put in bub stoutly, “that he'd see that we stayed here jus' as long as we pleased.” “well,” said old judd shortly, “ef we stay here by his favour, we won't stay long." there was silence for a while. then dave spoke again for the listening ears outside maliciously: “i went over to the gap to see if i couldn't git the place myself from the company. i believe the falins ain't goin' to bother us an' i ain't hankerin' to go west. but i told him that you-all was goin' to leave the mountains and goin' out thar fer good.” there was another silence. “he never said a word.” nobody had asked the question, but he was answering the unspoken one in the heart of june, and that heart sank like a stone. “he's goin' away hisself-goin' ter-morrow- goin' to that same place he went before-england, some feller called it." dave had done his work well. june rose un- steadily, and with one hand on her heart and the the trail of the lonesome pine other clutching the railing of the porch, she crept noiselessly along it, staggered like a wounded thing around the chimney, through the garden and on, still clutching her heart, to the woods—there to sob it out on the breast of the only mother she had ever known. dave was gone when she came back from the woods—calm, dry-eyed, pale. her step-mother had kept her dinner for her, and when she said she wanted nothing to eat, the old woman answered something querulous to which june made no an- swer, but went quietly to cleaning away the dishes. for a while she sat on the porch, and presently she went into her room and for a few moments she rocked quietly at her window. hale was going away next day, and when he came back she would be gone and she would never see him again. a dry sob shook her body of a sudden, she put both hands to her head and with wild eyes she sprang to her feet and, catching up her bonnet, slipped noiselessly out the back door. with hands clenched tight she forced herself to walk slowly across the foot-bridge, but when the bushes hid her, she broke into a run as though she were crazed and escaping a madhouse. at the foot of the spur she turned swiftly up the mountain and climbed madly, with one hand tight against the little cross at her throat. he was going away and she must tell him-she must tell him—what? behind her a voice was calling, the voice that pleaded all one xxxii all ll winter the cabin in lonesome cove slept through rain and sleet and snow, and no foot passed its threshold. winter broke, floods came and warm sunshine. a pale green light stole through the trees, shy, ethereal and so like a mist that it seemed at any moment on the point of floating upward. colour came with the wild flowers and song with the wood-thrush. squirrels played on the tree-trunks like mischievous chil- dren, the brooks sang like happy human voices through the tremulous underworld and wood- peckers hammered out the joy of spring, but the awakening only made the desolate cabin lonelier still. after three warm days in march, uncle billy, the miller, rode up the creek with a hoe over his shoulder-he had promised this to hale—for his labour of love in june's garden. weeping april passed, may came with rosy face uplifted, and with the birth of june the laurel emptied its pink- flecked cups and the rhododendron blazed the way for the summer's coming with white stars. back to the hills came hale then, and with all their rich beauty they were as desolate as when he left them bare with winter, for his mission had miserably failed. the trail of the lonesome pine buggy, with the top down, rattling down another street in a cloud of dust. it was the same buggy in which he had first seen the black-bearded sen- ator seven years before. it was the same horse, too, and the arab-like face and the bushy black whiskers, save for streaks of gray, were the same. this was the man who used to buy watches and pianos by the dozen, who one xmas gave a present to every living man, woman and child in the town, and under whose colossal schemes the pillars of the church throughout the state stood as supports. that far away the eagle-nosed face looked hag- gard, haunted and all but spent, and even now he struck hale as being driven downward like a mad- man by the same relentless energy that once had driven him upward. it was the same story every- where. nearly everybody who could get away was gone. some of these were young enough to profit by the lesson and take surer root elsewhere -others were too old for transplanting, and of them would be heard no more. others stayed for the reason that getting away was impossible. these were living, visible tragedies—still hopeful, pathetically unaware of the leading parts they were playing, and still weakly waiting for a better day or sinking, as by gravity, back to the old trades they had practised before the boom. a few sturdy souls, the fittest, survived—undis- mayed. logan was there-lawyer for the rail- road and the coal-company. macfarlan was a the trail of the lonesome pine the hon. sam took off his spectacles to wipe them, but when hale's back was turned, his hand- kerchief went to his eyes: “don't you worry, jack.” “all right, sam.” an hour later hale was at the livery stable for a horse to ride to lonesome cove, for he had sold his big black to help out expenses for the trip to england. old dan harris, the stableman, stood in the door and silently he pointed to a gray horse in the barn-yard. “you know that hoss?” “yes.” “you know whut's he here fer?” “i've heard." “well, i'm lookin' fer dave every day now.” “well, maybe i'd better ride dave's horse now," said hale jestingly. “i wish you would,” said old dan. “no,” said hale, “if he's coming, i'll leave the horse so that he can get to me as quickly as pos- sible. you might send me word, uncle dan, ahead, so that he can't waylay me.” “i'll do that very thing,” said the old man seriously. “i was joking, uncle dan." “but i ain't." the matter was out of hale's head before he got through the great gap. how the memories thronged of june-june-june! xxxiii clouds were gathering as hale rode up the river after telling old hon and uncle billy good-by. he had meant not to go to the cabin in lonesome cove, but when he reached the forks of the road, he stopped his horse and sat in inde- cision with his hands folded on the pommel of his saddle and his eyes on the smokeless chimney. the memories tugging at his heart drew him irre- sistibly on, for it was the last time. at a slow walk he went noiselessly through the deep sand around the clump of rhododendron. the creek was clear as crytsal once more, but no geese cackled and no dog barked. the door of the spring-house gaped wide, the barn-door sagged on its hinges, the yard- fence swayed drunkenly, and the cabin was still as a gravestone. but the garden was alive, and he swung from his horse at the gate, and with his hands clasped behind his back walked slowly through it. june's garden! the garden he had planned and planted for june—that they had tended together and apart and that, thanks to the old miller's care, was the one thing, save the sky above, left in spirit unchanged. the periwinkles, pink and white, were almost gone. the flags the trail of the lonesome pine were at half-mast and sinking fast. the annun- ciation lilies were bending their white foreheads to the near kiss of death, but the pinks were fra- grant, the poppies were poised on slender stalks like brilliant butterflies at rest, the hollyhocks shook soundless pink bells to the wind, roses as scarlet as june's lips bloomed everywhere and the richness of mid-summer was at hand. quietly hale walked the paths, taking a last farewell of plant and flower, and only the sudden patter of raindrops made him lift his eyes to the angry sky. the storm was coming now in earnest and he had hardly time to lead his horse to the barn and dash to the porch when the very heavens, with a crash of thunder, broke loose. sheet after sheet swept down the mountains like wind-driven clouds of mist thickening into water as they came. the shingles rattled as though with the heavy slapping of hands, the pines creaked and the sud- den dusk outside made the cabin, when he pushed the door open, as dark as night. kindling a fire, he lit his pipe and waited. the room was damp and musty, but the presence of june almost smoth- ered him. once he turned his face. june's door was ajar and the key was in the lock. he rose to go to it and look within and then dropped heavily back into his chair. he was anxious to get away now—to get to work. several times he rose rest- lessly and looked out the window. once he went outside and crept along the wall of the cabin to the the trail of the lonesome pine east and the west, but there was no break of light in the murky sky and he went back to pipe and fire. by and by the wind died and the rain steadied into a dogged downpour. he knew what that meant—there would be no letting up now in the storm, and for another night he was a prisoner. so he went to his saddle-pockets and pulled out a cake of chocolate, a can of potted ham and some crackers, munched his supper, went to bed, and lay there with sleepless eyes, while the lights and shadows from the wind-swayed fire ficked about him. after a while his body dozed but his racked brain went seething on in an endless march of fan- tastic dreams in which june was the central figure always, until of a sudden young dave leaped into the centre of the stage in the dream-tragedy form- ing in his brain. they were meeting face to face at last—and the place was the big pine. dave's pistol flashed and his own stuck in the holster as he tried to draw. there was a crashing report and he sprang upright in bed—but it was a crash of thunder that wakened him and that in that swift instant perhaps had caused his dream. the wind had come again and was driving the rain like soft bullets against the wall of the cabin next which he lay. he got up, threw another stick of wood on the fire and sat before the leaping blaze, curiously disturbed but not by the dream. somehow he was again in doubt—was he going to stick it out in the mountains after all, and if he should, was not the xxxiv the he big pine was gone. he had seen it first, one morning at daybreak, when the valley on the other side was a sea of mist that threw soft, clinging spray to the very mountain tops—for even above the mists, that morning, its mighty head arose, sole visible proof that the earth still slept beneath. he had seen it at noon—but little less majestic, among the oaks that stood about it; had seen it catching the last light at sunset, clean- cut against the after-glow, and like a dark, silent, mysterious sentinel guarding the mountain pass under the moon. he had seen it giving place with sombre dignity to the passing burst of spring, had seen it green among dying autumn leaves, green in the gray of winter trees and still green in a shroud of snow-a changeless promise that the earth must wake to life again. it had been the beacon that led him into lonesome cove-the beacon that led june into the outer world. from it her flying feet had carried her into his life-past it, the same feet had carried her out again. it had been their trysting place—had kept their secrets like a faithful friend and had stood to him as the changeless symbol of their love. it had stood a the trail of the lonesome pine mute but sympathetic witness of his hopes, his despairs and the struggles that lay between them. in dark hours it had been a silent comforter, and in the last year it had almost come to symbolize his better self as to that self he came slowly back. and in the darkest hour it was the last friend to whom he had meant to say good-by. now it was gone. always he had lifted his eyes to it every morning when he rose, but now, next morning, he hung back consciously as one might shrink from looking at the face of a dead friend, and when at last he raised his head to look upward to it, an im- penetrable shroud of mist lay between them—and he was glad. and still he could not leave. the little creek was a lashing yellow torrent, and his horse, heavily laden as he must be, could hardly swim with his weight, too, across so swift a stream. but moun- tain streams were like june's temper—up quickly and quickly down—so it was noon before he plunged into the tide with his saddle-pockets over one shoulder and his heavy transit under one arm. even then his snorting horse had to swim a few yards, and he reached the other bank soaked to his waist line. but the warm sun came out just as he entered the woods, and as he climbed, the mists broke about him and scudded upward like white sails before a driving wind. once he looked back from a “fire-scald” in the woods at the lonely cabin in the cove, but it gave him so the trail of the lonesome pine long that he began to suspect a trap. he with- drew his head and looked about him on either side and behind-listening intently for the cracking of a twig or a footfall. he was about to push back- ward to avoid possible attack from the rear, when a shadow shot from the opening. his face paled and looked sick of a sudden, his clenched fingers relaxed about the handle of his pistol and he drew it back, still cocked, turned on his knees, walked past the pine, and by the fallen oak stood upright, waiting. he heard a low whistle calling to the horse below and a shudder ran through him. he heard the horse coming up the path, he clenched his pistol convulsively, and his eyes, lit by an un- earthly fire and fixed on the edge of the bowlder around which they must come, burned an instant later on-june. at the cry she gave, he flashed a hunted look right and left, stepped swiftly to one side and stared past her-still at the bowlder. she had dropped the reins and started toward him, but at the pine she stopped short. “where is he?” her lips opened to answer, but no sound came. hale pointed at the horse behind her. “that's his. he sent me word. he left that horse in the valley, to ride over here, when he came back, to kill me. are you with him ?” for a mo- ment she thought from his wild face that he had gone crazy and she stared silently. then she seemed to understand, and with a moan she cov- the trail of the lonesome pine ered her face with her hands and sank weeping in a heap at the foot of the pine. the forgotten pistol dropped, full cocked to the soft earth, and hale with bewildered eyes went slowly to her. “don't cry,”—he said gently, starting to call her name. “don't cry,” he repeated, and he waited helplessly. “he's dead. dave was shot-out-west,” she sobbed. “i told him i was coming back. he gave me his horse. oh, how could you ?” “why did you come back?” he asked, and she shrank as though he had struck her—but her sobs stopped and she rose to her feet. wait,” she said, and she turned from him to wipe her eyes with her handerchief. then she faced him. “when dad died, i learned everything. you made him swear never to tell me and he kept his word until he was on his death-bed. you did every- thing for me. it was your money. it was your money. you gave me back the old cabin in the cove. it was always you, you, you, and there was never anybody else but you.” she stopped for hale's face was as though graven from stone. “ and you came back to tell me that?" “yes." “you could have written that." “yes,” she faltered, “but i had to tell you face to face." the trail of the lonesome pine “is that all?" again the tears were in her eyes. “no,” she said tremulously. “then i'll say the rest for you. you wanted to come to tell me of the shame you felt when you knew,” she nodded violently—“but you could have written that, too, and i could have written that you mustn't feel that way—that” he spoke slowly—“you mustn't rob me of the dearest hap- piness i ever knew in my whole life.” “i knew you would say that,” she said like a submissive child. the sternness left his face and he was smiling now. “and you wanted to say that the only return you could make was to come back and be my wife.” “yes,” she faltered again, “i did feel that-i did.” “you could have written that, too, but you thought you had to prove it by coming back your- self." this time she nodded no assent and her eyes were streaming. he turned away-stretching out his arms to the woods. “god! not that-no-no!" “listen, jack!” as suddenly his arms dropped. she had controlled her tears but her lips were quivering “no, jack, not that—thank god. i came be- cause i wanted to come,” she said steadily. “i loved you when i went away. i've loved you the trail of the lonesome pine every minute since—” her arms were stealing about his neck, her face was upturned to his and her eyes, moist with gladness, were looking into his wondering eyes—"and i love you now, jack.” " june!” the leaves about them caught his cry and quivered with the joy of it, and above their heads the old pine breathed its blessing with the name— june-june-june. xxxv with a mystified smile but with no question, hale silently handed his penknife to june and when, smiling but without a word, she walked behind the old pine, he followed her. there he saw her reach up and dig the point of the knife into the trunk, and when, as he wonderingly watched her, she gave a sudden cry, hale sprang toward her. in the hole she was digging he saw the gleam of gold and then her trembling fingers brought out before his astonished eyes the little fairy stone that he had given her long ago. she had left it there for him, she said, through tears, and through his own tears hale pointed to the stricken oak: “it saved the pine,” he said. “and you,” said june. “and you,” repeated hale solemnly, and while he looked long at her, her arms dropped slowly to her sides and he said simply: “come!” leading the horses, they walked noiselessly through the deep sand around the clump of rho- dodendron, and there sat the little cabin of lone- the trail of the lonesome pine herself she went all about the room with a caress- ing touch to everything, as though it were alive. the book was the volume of keats he had given her—which had been loaned to loretta before june went away. “oh, i wrote for it and wrote for it,” she said. “i found it in the post-office," said hale, “and i understood.” she went over to the bed. “oh,” she said with a happy laugh. “you've got one slip inside out," and she whipped the pil- low from its place, changed it, and turned down the edge of the covers in a triangle. “that's the way i used to leave it,” she said shyly. hale smiled. “i never noticed that!” she turned to the bu- reau and pulled open a drawer. in there were white things with frills and blue ribbons—and she flushed. “oh,” she said, "these haven't even been touched.” again hale smiled but he said nothing. one glance had told him there were things in that drawer too sacred for his big hands. “i'm so happy-so happy." suddenly she looked him over from head to foot-his rough riding boots, old riding breeches and blue flannel shirt. “i am pretty rough,” he said. she flushed, shook her head and looked down at her smart cloth suit of black. the trail of the lonesome pine “oh, you are all right—but you must go out now, just for a little while." “what are you up to, little girl ?” “how i love to hear that again!” “aren't you afraid i'll run away ?” he said at the door. “i'm not afraid of anything else in this world any more.” “well, i won't.” he heard her moving around as he sat planning in the porch. “to-morrow,” he thought, and then an idea struck him that made him dizzy. from within june cried: "here i am," and out she ran in the last crim- son gown of her young girlhood-her sleeves rolled up and her hair braided down her back as she used to wear it. “you've made up my bed and i'm going to make yours—and i'm going to cook your supper- why, what's the matter?” hale's face was radiant with the heaven-born idea that lighted it, and he seemed hardly to notice the change she had made. he came over and took her in his arms: “ah, sweetheart, my sweetheart!” a spasm of anxiety tightened her throat, but hale laughed from sheer delight. “never you mind. it's a secret,” and he stood back to look at her. she blushed as his eyes went downward to her perfect ankles. the trail of the lonesome pine back the two went into the kitchen and hale sat at the door watching june as she fixed the table and made the coffee and corn bread. once only he disappeared and that was when suddenly a hen cackled, and with a shout of laughter he ran out to come back with a fresh egg. “now, my lord!” said june, her hair falling over her eyes and her face flushed from the heat. “no," said hale. “i'm going to wait on you." “for the last time,” she pleaded, and to please her he did sit down, and every time she came to his side with something he bent to kiss the hand that served him. “you're nothing but a big, nice boy,” she said. hale held out a lock of his hair near the temples and with one finger silently followed the track of wrinkles in his face. “it's premature,” she said, “and i love every one of them.” and she stooped to kiss him on the hair. “and those are nothing but troubles. i'm going to smooth every one of them away.” “if they're troubles, they'll go—now," said hale. all the time they talked of what they would do with lonesome cove. “even if we do go away, we'll come back once a year,” said hale. “yes,” nodded june, "once a year." “i'll tear down those mining shacks, float them down the river and sell them as lumber." the trail of the lonesome pine “yes.” “and i'll stock the river with bass again." “yes.” ‘and i'll plant young poplars to cover the sight of every bit of uptorn earth along the mountain there. i'll bury every bottle and tin can in the cove. i'll take away every sign of civilization, every sign of the outside world.” ‘and leave old mother nature to cover up the scars,” said june. “so that lonesome cove will be just as it was." “just as it was in the beginning,” echoed june. “and shall be to the end,” said hale. “and there will never be anybody here but you.” “and you,” said june. while she cleared the table and washed the dishes hale fed the horses and cut more wood, and it was dusk when he came to the porch. through the door he saw that she had made his bed in one corner. and through her door he saw one of the white things, that had lain untouched in her drawer, now stretched out on her bed. the stars were peeping through the blue spaces of a white-clouded sky and the moon would be coming by and by. in the garden the flowers were dim, quiet and restful. a kingfisher screamed from the river. an owl hooted in the woods and crickets chirped about them, but every passing sound seemed only to accentuate the stillness in fc yohn she made him tell of everything that had happened. the new york public library astor, lenox and tilden foundations r the trail of the lonesome pine "my_where's that horn? i want it right now. ole hon down thar is a-thinkin' she's gone crazy and i thought she shorely was when she said she heard you blow that horn. an' she tol me the minute i got here, if hit was you—to blow three times.” and straightway three blasts rang down the river. “now she's all right, if she don't die o' curiosity afore i git back and tell her why you come. why did you come back, baby? gimme a drink o' water, son. i reckon me an' that ole hoss hain't travelled sech a gait in five year." june was whispering something to the old man when hale came back, and what it was the old man's face told plainly. “yes, uncle billy-right away,” said hale. “just as soon as you can git yo' license?” hale nodded. “an' june says i'm goin' to do it.” “yes," said hale, “right away. again june had to tell the story to uncle billy that she had told to hale and to answer his ques- tions, and it was an hour before the old miller rose hale called him then into june's room and showed him a piece of paper. “is it good now?” he asked. the old man put on his spectacles, looked at it and chuckled: "just as good as the day you got hit.” “well, can't you- to go. the trail of the lonesome pine “right now! does june know?” “not yet. i'm going to tell her now. june!” he called. “yes, dear.” uncle billy moved hurriedly to the door. "you just wait till i git out o' here.” he met june in the outer room. "where are you going, uncle billy?” "go on, baby,” he said, hurrying by her, “i'll be back in a minute." she stopped in the doorway—her eyes wide again with sudden anxiety, but hale was smil- ing “you remember what you said at the pine, dear?” the girl nodded and she was smiling now, when with sweet seriousness she said again: “your least wish is now law to me, my lord.” “well, i'm going to test it now. i've laid a trap for you.” she shook her head. “and you've walked right into it.” “i'm glad.” she noticed now the crumpled piece of paper in his hand and she thought it was some matter of business. “oh,” she said, reproachfully. “you aren't going to bother with anything of that kind now?" "yes,” he said. “i want you to look over this.' “very well,” she said resignedly. he was hold- ing the paper out to her and she took it and held it to the light of the candle. her face flamed and she turned remorseful eyes upon him. the trail of the lonesome pine risen. the big pine stood guard on high against the outer world. nature was their church and stars were their candles. and as if to give them even a better light, the moon had sent a luminous sheen down the dark mountainside to the very garden in which the flowers whispered like waiting happy friends. uncle billy lifted his hand and a hush of expectancy seemed to come even from the farthest star. ide uit the!! ans university of califorh l/sarii cabz university of califoffa ( cpu; alversiva qf californit santa cruz the u dvensiy "y androi kgs. ulo . € universe lhse university liorary ehe university ipoyani the uniuersity libra baina university oe cilesorkea, siria cro university of cuecania santa cruz university of california/saker die ohitursuit ge cjufcenaalia university oz ciliegini, asiku cruz university of coliforkussihta cruz ilze r a 'si : the the university ya de s e university dora havasili e taufcrrinsaria can ubuyersity of cufcrres/sa. cruz hiversity o chuifrissa sau is : pn library university of california santa cruz . w the western the orion press new york george n. fenin and william k. everson the western from silents to cinerama first printing all rights reserved © by george n. fenin and william k. everson library of congress catalog card number: - designed by wladislaw finne manufactured in the united states of america pn در / wy to william s. hart the finest western star and director of them all, and the best friend the west ever had, this book is reverently and sincerely dedicated. foreword for many years the western film has been strangely and unfairly neglected. although many articles and essays have appeared in general and specialized periodicals all over the world, substantially organic books deal- ing exclusively with the western are very rare indeed. and of all this material, the majority has been disguised publicity, or at best essays which refused to take the western seriously, the work of writers who knew little or nothing of westerns, writers who glibly referred to the cliché of the hero always kissing his horse instead of the girl, leaving it at that. there have been innumerable histories of the cinema, more specialized histories deal- ing with the cinema in various countries, and books devoted to individual directors, producers, executives, and stars. but if the general history of the movies has been told, only three books of any stature have been devoted specifically to the western, all of foreign origin: il film western, by italian critic antonio chiattone; il western mag- giorenne, a symposium of essays by various italian critics, edited by tullio kezich; and le western, by french critic jean-louis rieupeyrout. of these, the first is a serious but necessarily incomplete and at times rather arbitrary study of the aesthetics of the western; the second is most useful as a ground-breaking instrument for a system- atic treatise, although it is necessarily frag- mentary as a symposium; and the third is a less than thorough attempt to both narrate the historical background of the west and to describe the growth of the western film, the coverage of this second aspect being characterized by numerous errors of a nature almost unavoidable when one is working so far from the bulk of the source material. we felt, therefore, that there was not only room, but a need, for a detailed history of the western, a book which would represent not only a useful study of the industrial and aesthetic growth of a popular movie genre, but a critical analysis of it, as well. for the most part, we have adopted a strictly chronological approach, but, in the parlance of the film, it has sometimes been necessary to use "flash-forwards and cut- backs” and even a form of montage, in order to follow a thesis through to its logical conclusion. we hope that our efforts may clarify past misunderstandings and mis- conceptions regarding the western film, contributing at the same time to a fuller appreciation of the real essence of what is considered by many to be the most representative form of the american cinema. viii the western new york, george n. fenin william k. everson acknowledgments the authors wish to thank mr. jonas mekas of film culture (new york) for his permission to reprint material by mr. fenin published in that magazine, mr. f. maurice speed of the western film annual (london) and mr. henry hart of films in review (new york) for their permission to reprint material by mr. everson which appeared in those publications between and , and also mr. john adams of the museum of modern art (new york) and mr. james card of the george eastman house (rochester) for their co- operation in screening prints of certain rare westerns in order that re-evaluations might be made. further grateful acknowledgment is made to major george . mitchell, united states army, for his valuable assistance, particularly in the re- search on the life and career of william s. hart. western history and the hollywood version co birth of a state of mind hollywood and the western novel contents . contents and moral influence of the western the hero hero versus badman the villain the indian the woman adventure and the law plot versus action? necessity for a living legend the primitives: edwin s. porter and broncho billy anderson the great train robbery the first western star hollywood makes more westerns . david w. griffith and thomas h. ince: - d. w. griffith thomas h. ince . william surrey hart and realism my life east and west hell's hinges hart's peak and decline hart off-screen . tom mix and showmanship . douglas fairbanks and john ford: - xii . james cruze's the covered wagon and john ford's the iron horse the western . the twenties the assembly line begins harry carey and buck jones fred thomson ken maynard other new stars directors william wyler and william k. howard other aspects of the twenties the zane grey tradition boom years the sound era the western costume . the thirties producer-stars the “b” western forgotten westerns partial renaissance of the epic hopalong cassidy the heroine gene autry and roy rogers autry's imitators other stars . the western serial: its birth and demise . the forties renaissance of the epic cult of the outlaw historical westerns john ford's further contributions a social western: the ox-bow incident parodies and satires the “b” western xiii contents . new trends in the postwar western sex neuroses racial conscience . the stuntman and the second unit director b. reaves eason and arthur rosson cliff lyons other second unit directors yakima canutt david sharpe fred graham bud osborne stunt movies . exeunt the “b”s, enter television the stars wane the rise in production costs borderline westerns television's grind: re-enter gene autry_ television's needs hopalong cassidy other stars . the western's international audience and the international western . the contemporary western soft politics teen-age and adult markets the modern west conclusion index illustrations the illustrations for this volume have been chosen for both documentary and decorative purposes. a list of captioned, documentary illustrations follows. page a scene from hiawatha ( ) douglas kennedy in sitting bull ( ) a scene from roy rogers’ bells of coronado ( ) montgomery clift and clark gable in the misfits ( ) james stewart and debra paget in broken arrow ( ) gary cooper in high noon ( ) brandon de wilde and alan ladd in shane ( ) a scene from the last hunt ( ) - richard cramer louise glaum, robert mckim, and william s. hart in the return of draw egan ( ) bill elliott in waco ( ) mark stevens and barton mac- lane in jack slade ( ) a scene from the stranger from texas ( ) jack palance and elisha cook, jr. in shane ( ) douglas fowley in santa fe trail ( ) harry woods, roy barcroft, and robert frazer in dawn on the great divide ( ) edmund cobb, roy barcroft, and bud osborne xvi the western - - the building of a town in cimarron ( ) town scene from the iron horse ( ) jeff chandler, james stewart, and debra paget in broken arrow ( ) ruth roland, queen of the western serials william desmond and luella maxim in deuce duncan ( ) a scene from w. k. l. dickson's cripple creek barroom ( ) a scene from the great train robbery ( ) edwin s. porter broncho billy anderson a scene from broncho billy's oath ( ) a scene from broncho billy and the redskin ( ) d. w. griffith and g. w. bitzer richard barthelmess and carol dempster in scarlet days ( ) a scene from america ( ) thomas ince and william eagleshirt william s. hart in the primal lure ( ) william s. hart in the tiger man ( ) hell's hinges ( ) william s. hart in wild bill hickok ( ) william s. hart, anna q. nilsson, and richard headrick in the toll gate ( ) william s. hart in the testing block ( ) william s. hart in the devil's double ( ) william s. hart, king vidor, and johnny mack brown robert taylor and william s. hart at the newhall ranch a bronze statue of william s. hart tom mix in hello, cheyenne ( ) a production shot from just tony ( ) tom mix in riders of death valley ( ) tom mix and mickey rooney in my pal the king ( ) douglas fairbanks in manhattan madness ( ) douglas fairbanks in the knickerbocker buckeroo ( ) roy stewart in keith of the border ( ) william farnum in the first version of the spoilers ( ) william desmond in deuce duncan ( ) cecil b. de mille directing mary pickford and elliott dexter in a romance of the redwoods ( ) a scene from the covered wagon ( ) a scene from the covered wagon - - – xvii illustrations - a production shot from the covered wagon tim mccoy and james cruze john ford directing a scene from the iron horse ( ) the track-laying race from the iron horse ken maynard and charles king in between fighting men harry carey buck jones and silver fred thomson, helen foster, and baby mary louise miller in the bandit's baby ( ) fred thomson and ann may in thundering hoofs ( ) a scene from the wagon show ( ) hoot gibson rin tin tin in tracked by the police ( ) the bank hold-up william k. howard directs noah beery in the thundering herd ( ) fatty arbuckle and wallace beery in the round up ( ) william farnum in last of the duanes ( ) buster keaton in go west ( ) betty bronson and lane chandler in open range ( ) announcement of the virginian costuming in the girl on the triple x ( ) tom mix and the “circus approach” gene autry and champion charles starrett bill elliott william s. hart and roy rogers: a contrast in costuming johnny mack brown george o'brien in the iron horse buck jones, tim mccoy, and raymond hatton tom santschi, boris karloff, and lafe mckee in the utah kid ( ) andy devine and walter huston in law and order ( ) yakima canutt in man of conquest ( ) warner baxter, bruce cabot, and margo in robin hood of el- dorado ( ) nelson eddy and jeanette macdonald in the girl of the golden west ( ) a scene from sutter's gold ( ) william boyd as hopalong cassidy in range war ( ) william boyd and clark gable in the painted desert ( ) – - xviii the western a poster of the late thirties roy rogers and trigger a scene from colorado sunset ( ) jim thorpe, tex ritter, and slim andrews in arizona frontier ( ) jack randell and ed coxen in riders of the dawn ( ) bob baker, glen strange, and lois january in courage of the west ( ) john wayne and alberta vaughan in randy rides alone ( ) george o'brien a poster of the early thirties carol wayne and monte blue in the great adventures of wild bill hickok ( ) the lone ranger wallace beery james ellison, helen burgess, and gary cooper in the plains- man ( ) barbara stanwyck and joel mccrea in union pacific ( ) a scene from union pacific john ford directing stagecoach ( ) a scene from stagecoach humphrey bogart and james cagney in the oklahoma kid ( ) george o'brien and john carradine in daniel boone ( ) errol flynn in they died with their boots on ( ) gary cooper and walter brennan in the westerner ( ) barbara stanwyck and joel mccrea in the great man's lady ( ) henry fonda and cathy downs in my darling clementine ( ) a scene from wagonmaster ( ) james stewart and marlene dietrich in destry rides again ( ) anthony quinn, dana andrews, and francis ford in the ox- bow incident ( ) abbott and costello in ride 'em cowboy ( ) lash larue and al st. john in fighting vigilantes ( ) emmett lynn, charles king, and al st. john in colorado serenade ( ) a scene from texas to bataan ( ) jennifer jones xix illustrations jane russell, jack beutel, and walter huston in the outlaw an early thomas ince poster and a poster for the outlaw gregory peck and jennifer jones in duel in the sun ( ) the stagecoach hold-up - barbara kent harry shannon, gregory peck, and skip homeier in the gun- fighter ( ) kirk douglas and burt lancaster in gunfight at the . k. corral ( ) a scene from broken arrow ( ) a stunt scene from pioneer scout ( ) a stunt scene from loaded pistols ( ) yakima canutt a fall from a horse david sharpe “bulldogging” fred graham and johnny mack brown in lone star trail ( ) a stunt scene from when the daltons rode ( ) rory calhoun two contrasting location shots a john carpenter film, son of the renegade ( ) dennis weaver james arness a french western, pendaison á jefferson city bela lugosi in a german western hans albers in wasser für canitoga a scene from Ô cangaceiro john wayne and montgomery clift in red river ( ) john wayne a scene from the horse soldiers ( ) audie murphy and albert dekker in a scene from the kid from texas ( ) karl malden and marlon brando in one eyed jacks ( ) how the west was won, the first cinerama western the enduring beauty of the west “i don't know how much the western film means to europe; but to this country it means the very essence of national life. i am referring now to the later frontier-the frontier of the range and the mining camp, with all its youthful follies and heartbreaks and braveries that we know and love best. it is but a generation or so since virtually all this country was frontier. consequently its spirit is bound up in american citizenship.” william s. hart, the western “i've labored long and hard for bread for honor and for riches but on my corns too long you've tred you fine-haired sons of bitches ..." black bart, the po- (alias for charles e. bolton, poet and outlaw, who may have died in nevada with his boots on.) western history and le hollywood version birth of a state of mind during the american revolution, the no man's land that lay between the american regular forces in the north and the new york encampment of the british in the south was known as neutral ground. it was devas- tated country in which two opposing partisan groups sought for and battled each other in bloody skirmishes. the guerrillas fighting for washington's cause were called “skinners." those operating with the support of king george iii's british dragoons and hessian mercenaries were known as "cowboys,” this name deriving from the english farm lads who cared for the cattle in the surrey and essex countrysides. it was, in fact, not until several decades after the establishment of the colonies' in- dependence that the cowboy became an american. in a few years, he achieved the required status of maturity, graduated with honor into folklore and legend, and stood from then on as a living symbol of the wild west, of the truly original american frontier period. the transformation in the meaning of the word cowboy within a geographical cycle was complete. from the bucolic atmos- phere of the british farms to the horrors of partisan warfare in the american east to the conquest of untamed land in the west, the term cowboy finally came to synthetize the grandeur et servitude of one of the most amaz- ing events in history. for the swiftness and proportion of the “westward ho!” march of colonization can only be matched by the russian conquest of siberia, begun by the the western great yermak in and highlighted in by the founding of okhotsk, thus bringing the slavs to the shores of the pacific, after they had crossed an entire continent. the american trek west to the pacific was the fundamental back- ground for the rise of the cowboy, a background which began to materi- alize in the fifty years following . when the great anglo-saxon immigration of substantially scotch and welsh descent stopped, there came german political refugees, discontented englishmen, starving irish and italians, adventurous russians and poles, all of whom looked to the new land with hope. they were the advance patrols, the battalions and, later on, the brigades of an international army of thirty-five million im- migrants that was to land on the american shore in the nineteenth cen- tury, filling the eastern cities deserted by those who had migrated to virgin lands, or simply following others in the wake of the march to the west. thus, in an incredibly short time, the colonists and farmers of the oregon and overland trails learned the cattle trade from the mexican vaqueros in california, and the santa fe routiers tasted the acrid and exciting sense of competition with the russians and the british in their development of the fur trade empire. with the subsequent discovery of gold, farmers and merchants became adventurers; with the advance of railroads, they became buffalo hunters; with the establishment of property (land and cattle) they wore guns and fought on opposite sides of the barbed-wire fence—the era's symbol of revolutionary changes. the shrinkage of the wide-open spaces brought about the rapid and progressive destruction of what, with wistful euphemism, the united states government had labeled the “permanent indian frontier,” and in a few years the american indian and the american bison were forced to relinquish their prairies. shortly after the turn of the nineteenth cen- tury, this explosive expansion came to a halt. public opinion had not forgotten, indeed, the speech of carl schurz, outlining the dangers of prolonged territorial expansion, warning that the united states could extend its institutions on rigid isothermic lines only, and that, should the penetration reach the tropics, those same institutions would wither and disintegrate, causing also the ultimate ruin of the union. this expansion had already created a substantial amount of hostility south of the rio grande. lucas alamán, the mexican patriarch of latin america's great concern over foreign imperialism, has passionately analyzed the great era of north american territorial expansion. “the united states of the north in less than fifty years have succeeded in making themselves masters of extensive colonies belonging to various european powers, the glory of virgin forests. a scene from hiawatha ( ). and of districts, still more extensive, formerly in the possession of indian tribes which have disappeared from the face of the earth; proceeding in these transactions not with the noisy pomp of conquest, but with such silence, such constancy, and such uniformity, that they have always succeeded in accomplishing their goals. in- stead of armies, battles, and invasions, which raise such an uproar, and generally prove abortive, they use means which, considered separately, seem slow, ineffec- tual, and sometimes palpably absurd, but which unite, and in the course of time, are certain and irresistible. they commence by introducing themselves into the territory which they covet, upon the pretense of commercial negotiations, or of the establishment of foreign colonies with or without the assent of the government to which the territory be- longs. these colonies grow, multiply, become the predominant party in the popu- lation and, as soon as a support is found in this manner, they begin to set up rights which are impossible to sustain in a serious discussion, and to bring forward ridiculous pretensions founded upon historical facts which are admitted by no one. their machinations in the country they wish to acquire are then brought to light by the appearance of pioneers, some of whom settle on the soil, alleging that their presence does not effect the question of the right of sovereignty or possession of the land. these men excite, by degrees, movements which disturb the political state of the country in dispute. when things have come to this pass, diplomatic manage- ment commences; the inquietude excited in the territory in dispute, the interests of the colonists therein established, the insurrection of adventurers and savages in- stigated by them, and the pertinacity with which the opinion is set up as to the colonists' right of possession, become the subjects of notes, full of expressions of justice and moderation, until, with the aid of other incidents-never wanting in the course of diplomatic relations—the desired end is attained by concluding an arrangement as onerous for one party as it is advantageous to the other.” the western but if the louisiana purchase, the seminole war, the $ , , paid to the czar of all russias for alaska were but some of the examples characterizing the conscious development of a political phenomenon, the conquest of the great plains and of california, for instance, repre- sented rather the product of a powerfully articulated, but genuinely unconscious—on a political plan-migration. the dynamic imperialism manifested by the pioneers was based on racial arrogance towards the mexican and indian natives, and economic realism, but also on a deep idealism. for the pioneers the conquest of the frontier represented the colonization of enormous tracts of land for the establishment of all those free laws, regulations, and moral principles which guide self-qualified men of destiny. this gigantic task kept the pioneers occupied for several decades, thus allowing the dynamic urge for further american penetra- tion to crystallize. the rio grande frontier represented the ne plus ultra limit of this pene- tration, and the principle of existence and development of a civilization on isothermic lines was effectively carried on. thus the frontier came to an end and tradition began. the impact of this tradition on successive decades of american life and progress has amply proved the frontier's existence in the hearts and minds of americans as something much more appealing than a splendid historical period. the frontier is, in fact, the only mythological tissue available to this young nation. gods and demigods, passions and ideals, the fatality of events, the sadness and glory of death, the struggle of good and evil-all these themes of the western myth constitute an ideal ground for a liaison and re-elaboration of the olympian world, a re-, freshing symbiotic relationship of hellenic thought and yankee dynamism. the cowboy on horseback shapes into the fabulous centaurus, guardian of a newly acquired legend; the woman-whose presence is biologically sought in the frontier town-becomes a sort of minerva, dispensing wisdom, often moral principles, warm comfort, and unrelenting excite- ment and incitement; marshal wyatt earp's exploits come strikingly close to the labors of hercules, while william frederick cody's (buffalo bill) and wild bill hickok's struggles with indians and “badmen” are often recognized as the modern versions of the classic heroes. the mas- sacre of the seventh cavalry at little big horn carries the seed of fatality bearing down upon oedipus, and the “remember the alamo!” reminds us of thermopylae. above this epic looms the pathos of the fight between good and evil so dear to anglo-saxon hearts, a theme that finds its highest literary ex- pression in herman melville's moby dick. an epoch such as this, repre- history and hollywood senting the joint effort of a great heterogeneous people, sparked with the manifestations of a striking individualism, appealed to both the individu- alist and the collectivist. the conquest of nature and the law of the gun must have appealed to the first; the collectivist had his work cut out for him in the tremendous amount of organized effort needed to plow the earth, raise cattle, mine, create towns, counties, and cities. a state of mind evolved and it was accepted with enthusiasm in the eastern states. the literature it spawned must indicate this: from the western journal by irving, followed by astoria, the adventures of captain bonneville, u. s. a. and tour of prairies to roughing it by twain, the luck of roaring camp and the outcasts of poker flat by harte, the virginian by wister, and heart of the west by o. henry, the westerners by white, the big sky by guthrie, wyatt earp by lake, the oregon trail by parkman, crazy horse by sandoz, the ox-bow incident by clark, and many others. in the course of years, such literature increased continuously, and the names of authors like ernest haycox, luke short, max brand, will ermine, charles w. webber, emerson hough, e. c. mann and zane grey characterize a specific western narrative in the form of novels, short stories, and essays which did not exert a substantial influence on the entire american culture, but which, nevertheless, gave body and form to a legend. we should also mention clarence e. mulford and william colt macdonald, above-average writers of standard western novels, and writers much drawn upon by the movies. mulford was first used by tom mix in the twenties, became more familiar later when his novels were filmed in the hopalong cassidy series. w. c. macdonald's mesquiteer western novels inspired a few one-shot western films, such as powder- smoke range ( ) and law of the 's ( - ) and later a whole series at republic studios from to . the term mesquiteer was obvi- ously derived from the french mousquetaire; and mesquite is a form of prairie shrubbery. the american legend was subsequently transformed, from the crafts- manlike effort of the previous writers, into the smoothly organized, slickly presented assembly line product flooding america even today with books by the hundred, magazine stories and novelettes by the thousand. they have become an almost unbearable weight on the intel- lectual faced in most cases with tons of pulp publications of no value whatsoever. they cannot in any way aid in exactly evaluating the american western epic but the sociologist finds, in the specialized western essays and short stories, an effective ground for the study of their influence on the american public and its mores. hollywood and the western novel | american western literature would have remained confined to the limited domains of folklore and a narrow literary genre or, at best, to the specialized field of history if the birth of motion pictures had not exerted the stupendous verdict of their own possibilities. this new art, based among other things on movement, found in the western theme its ideal expression, and made of it the american cinema par excellence. in the words of andré bazin, the noted french film critic: the western | “the history of cinema has known but one other cinema, and this is also historical cinema. ... as with the conquest of the west, so the soviet revolution is a com- pound of historical events marking the birth of an order and of a civilization. one and the other have given birth to the myths necessary to a confirmation of history; both were also obliged to rediscover the morale, rediscover at their living source, before their mixing or their pollution, the principles of the law which will put order in the chaos, will separate the sky from the earth. but it is possible that the cinema was the only language capable not only of expressing this, but above all of giving it the true aesthetic dimension. without the cinema, the conquest of the west would have made of the 'western stories' but one minor literature; and it is not with its painting nor with its best novels that soviet art has given the world the image of its greatness. that is why the cinema is already the specific art of epic." / at the beginning of the twentieth century, the united states was still a land of opportunity where private enterprise bordered often on un- scrupulous and illegal practices, and adventure appealed to hardy in- dividuals. the california gold rush and the great cattle depression of – , among many events, made outlaws and gunfighters of many cowboys; though they were already part of a colorful past, banditry had not disappeared. on august , , a few minutes after p.m., train no. of the union pacific railroad company, after having passed the station at tipton, wyoming, began to slow down as it approached table rock. four men emerged from the darkness, forced the conductor, e. j. kerrigan, to un- couple the passenger cars while the express and mail cars were pulled a mile distant and subsequently robbed. the thieves were some of the wild bunch boys: butch cassidy, deaf charlie hanks, bill carver, harvey logan. the raid netted a little more than five thousand dollars in cash and a few hundred dollars' worth of watch movements, and reconfirmed their fame as "the largest, toughest and most colorful of all western outlaw gangs ... the first such aggregation to have an orderly organization,” as stated by james d. horan and paul sann in their history and hollywood pictorial history of the wild west. in a special article that appeared three years later, when the pinkerton detectives had already killed or arrested the majority of the gang's members, the denver daily news revealed that the wild bunch outlaws had caused governor wells of utah to contact the governors of colorado and wyoming in order to create a concerted plan of action to combat the menace. such exploits vividly aroused popular fantasy, and the traditional sympathy of the american masses for the underdog, fanned by sensa- tional newspaper reports, provided ideal ground for the emergence of the myth of the outlaw. they provided ground, too, for the physical expres- sion of those stark puritanical values implicit in the struggle between good and evil, which have so affected the american unconscious as re- vealed in the country's folkways and mores. even if the koster and bial music hall's first showing of “moving pictures” on april , , brought to the american public visions of sea waves breaking upon the shores, as well as some comic vaudeville items, and even if factual events continued to attract attention, the growing demand for theatrical films became hard to dent. this phenomenon, stimulated as well by the urge to contemplate something more realistic and dramatic, materialized ultimately and, after many attempts at cinematic storytelling, in edwin s. porter made his the great train robbery. lewis jacobs in his the rise of the american film said the film “has since represented the bible of the film-makers.” actually this somewhat exaggerates its personal value, but until it did have a very great deal of influence. from then on, the western was a genre of the american cinema. it also was the vehicle through which motion pictures and the public con- sorted in a remarkable symbiotic relationship. the fact that the motion picture, this “flower and crown of the twentieth century,” could express in indisputably effective terms the magnitude of the recent american saga, an essential force still permeating the lives and the philosophy of life of great masses of the people, was accepted with enthusiasm by a public anxious to learn quickly of its pioneer heritage, in order to acquire fundamental principles for its destiny. thus, from that year which represented the birth of film westerns, that year which saw the headlines of the nation's dailies echo the most recent exploit of the wild bunch, the film-makers began a long and ex- citing march, the milestones of which were represented-after an ado- lescene-by an epic school, the sound era, color, wide screen ... right up to the present film, a western very different from the one imagined by edwin s. porter. the western of today seems to be choosing some rather offbeat paths, and the psychological, sophisticated, “adult” tale the western of the west is proof of this evolution. in these more than fifty years we have seen one of the most amazing cases of a deliberate manipulation of a nation's history in the hands of a powerful group of film-makers. the drab and grim frontier, with its people struggling for existence as ranchers, farmers and merchants was depicted to movie audiences in an often entirely different fashion. all of the west's mushrooming com- munities—many of them peaceful and monotonous, heroic only in their dedication to the building of a new empire—became compressed into a stock formula town, the prototypes of tombstone and dodge city, with rustlers, desperadoes, and outlaws roaming the streets, or engaged in bloody saloon fights. the great cattle empire, the gold and silver rushes, and the covered wagon treks were some of the phases of the west's history which the movies implied were a "permanent” part of the western scene; actually, these phases were all of fairly short duration. life in the old west was certainly a lawless one in many communities, but the generalized con- cept of the shooting down of endless villains and ranchers without so much as a second glance at the corpses is very much at odds with fact. a killing was as serious a matter in the west as it was in the east, although admittedly the justice meted out was a less standardized one. the laws of mob and vigilante groups were not inclined to temper justice with mercy and understanding, and in territories where the forces of crime and corruption outweighed those of law and order, an open and acknowledged felony might go unpunished. but regardless of the varying degrees of justice, even taking into account a “kill-or- be-killed” attitude among men who made their living outside the law, the taking of a human life was still not regarded lightly. the westerns of william s. hart recognized this principle; there was no casual exter- mination of badmen in the hart-ince pictures and among recent west- erns, lesley selander's stampede ( ) was one of very few films which treated killing seriously. in the glamorization of the outlaw, hollywood has contradicted it- self on many occasions, in addition to contradicting history. in badmen's territory ( ) the outlaw sam bass is played as a villain, in com- pletely evil fashion by fat, swarthy nestor paiva. when universal-inter- national later made calamity jane and sam bass ( )—inventing a quite fictional romance between the two-bass was portrayed as the misunderstood hero played by clean-cut howard duff. reconstruction of historical events was and still is changed to suit the script; sympathetic or unsympathetic portrayals of events are often de- pendent on the importance of an historical character in a specific script. in they died with their boots on ( ), errol flynn plays general custer, depicted as a brilliant soldier, sympathetic to the indians, whose command was ruthlessly massacred in a battle brought on by political chicanery. in sitting bull ( ) the story was told primarily from the indian viewpoint: sitting bull was literally forced into battle by the stupidity and double-dealing of custer, played in bullheaded fashion by douglas kennedy. custer was an indian-hater opposed to the efforts of hero dale robertson to effect a peace treaty. another indian-oriented work, chief crazy horse ( ), gave that sachem, instead, the credit for the little big horn battle, putting sitting bull in the position of a casual supervisor. the warner film, santa fe trail ( ) showed custer, a lesser character in the film, graduating from west point in the accus- tomed manner. yet in they died with their boots on, in which custer was the main figure, a film made by the same studio only a year later, the audience saw general sheridan commissioning custer before his graduation and dispatching him forthwith to washington where union forces, expecting a confederate attack momentarily, were desperately short of manpower. here we have a clear-cut example of historical in- cident being manipulated to suit script requirements. historical events apart, neither film presented a very realistic picture of custer the man. in santa fe trail, played by ronald reagan, he was a quiet, sincere, and dedicated soldier; as written for errol flynn, he became the embodiment of the daredevil soldier, contemptuous of orders, history and hollywood douglas kennedy as one of the later, unsympathetically treated general custers. from sitting bull ( ) the western more concerned with a fight for its own sake than for its underlying causes. later, of course, according to this particular script, he became something of an idealist. in actuality, brilliant soldier or not, custer had a mass of neurotic complexes—an aspect of him that no motion picture has yet presented, although there were good hints of it in the distinctly and deliberately critical and unpleasant custer portrait presented in sitting bull. one wonders now whether or not movie traditions sometimes have a more lasting effect than the authentic traditions they copy. for example, custer's famed seventh cavalry, wiped out at the little big horn, was subsequently reformed as a cavalry unit and retained as a permanent force in the united states army. the seventh cavalry is still in action today and, like custer himself, it utilizes flamboyant accessories to glamorize a regulation uniform-including cavalry boots, a western- style neckerchief and, among the officers, cavalry sabres. from several first-hand accounts, it seems that these “descendants” of custer adopt a swaggering behavior more than casually related to, although some- what enlarged upon, the behavior of the cavalry officers in a john ford super-western. hollywood's portrayal of geronimo created the false impression that the apaches were the most warlike indians of all. actually, although savage fighters, they were comparatively few in number, and far less troublesome than many lesser-known tribes. the capture of geronimo, too, has been fictionalized in diverse ways, especially in the film geronimo ( ), in which he is captured attempting to kill a white in the modern western, airplanes, helicopters, and even atomic missiles became standard props. from roy rogers' bells of coronado ( ). history and hollywood trader in a cavalry encampment. another western, i killed geronimo ( ), had him killed off in a last-reel fist fight. universal's walk the proud land ( ) finally told the true and comparatively straightfor- ward account of how the warrior was induced to surrender. the serious approach of william s. hart, the singular—although romanticized- interpretation of john ford, the wholly or partially rigorous renditions of david w. griffith, thomas ince, james cruze and other film-makers concerning the true atmosphere of the old west are drowned in a sea of distorted, standardized clichés. the american public, in part at least, recognized these clichés for the counterfeits they were. it is this same public, largely the eastern audience, which has lately indicated its ap- proval and acceptance of a more realistic and historically accurate treatment. a new cycle has thus emerged in the contemporary cinema. in the past, hollywood frequently used the western as a proving ground for directors many of whom later achieved fame in other genres (e.g! edward dmytryk, william wyler) and planned its western output almost on the basis of calculated laboratory formula. now, without new inspiration, hollywood found itself regarding its perennial bread-and- butter in a new light. the renewed success and popularity of the western, stimulated by the dumping of literally hundreds of “b” westerns on television, has led to a gradual revamping of policies, to- ward a recognition of the need to present the west in more realistic terms. this has taken place in the midst of a competitive situation in which hollywood has had to produce fewer films, of better quality. the ultra-streamlined westerns of autry and rogers brought together, in weird fashion, the standard ingredients of the old-time westerns (chases, cattle stampedes, gunslinging, saloon fights) with contemporary elements (night clubs, radio, television, chorus girls, high-powered cars, jet-rockets, uranium deposits). although autry and rogers no longer make theatrical westerns, they often incorporate these innovations- admittedly to a much lesser degree than hitherto-into their television westerns. and, of course, their late theatrical westerns do still occasion- ally play in american theatres and more frequently on television. they are still regularly seen in europe, always slower to absorb the huge quantities of “b” westerns. thus, old and new westerns are available side by side, to further cloud the already confusing issues. today, the main street of dodge city is a drab and rather unattractive artery, without the slightest resemblance to the picturesque terminal of the western trail. tombstone jealously preserves its crystal palace saloon, the old headquarters of wyatt earp's enemies. deadwood sur- the western vives as a little city in south dakota, earning its money from the gold industry and the exhibition of an assortment of fake wild bill hickok relics, including wild bill's “death chair,” complete with bullet holes and painted bloodstains. a series of towns tries to perpetuate the tradi- tion of the old west to attract tourist business; covered wagon day, pioneer's day, frontier days, old times are some of the celebrations periodically organized, with a shrewd commercial instinct, in cities and towns like prescott, fort worth, cheyenne, dodge city, and gallup. the last laugh in the adulteration of the wild west is represented by las vegas, a small mormon center founded in , and maintained by that religious body for more than fifty years as a devout community refusing to consider itself a part of the generally lawless era in which it lived. today gambling and easy divorce bring masses of americans to the modern part of the city, and while the old section continues its calm and uneventful existence, the fabulous gambling halls of the new city (where floor shows can afford to pay a well-shaped chorus girl two hun- dred dollars a week plus, and hire famous show-business entertainers) aim for an ever larger business running into millions of dollars. the las vegas “cowboys” today are not the grim and unshaven gunfighters of old, but “plain folk” from all parts of the union, dressed in gaudy out- fits. the las vegas cowboys are the products created by hollywood, and the grotesque masquerade in only one way connects up with the open towns of another time: if las vegas is more or less open today, it is be- cause the underworld has really gone underground in respectable clothing ironically, one of the few authentic traditions of the west is displayed annually in-among other cities, of course-new york. that tradition and heritage is the rodeo, once the cowboys' way of letting off steam, of competing among themselves, and of displaying the skills of their trade by riding wild horses and steers, bulldogging cattle, roping, etc. since the excitement and danger of the rodeo is authentic, and cannot be stream- lined (there is no way of informing a wild brahma bull that he must behave according to the concepts of life) the rodeo remains a genuine and thrilling experience. of course, it has been both commer- cialized and vulgarized: big name attractions, usually children's idols from television (roy rogers, gene autry, the lone ranger, rin tin tin and others) are brought in as stars, and perform their somewhat tame specialties like songs and roping tricks to the delight of the young- sters, and to the disgust, no doubt, of the seasoned rodeo riders risking their necks for a fraction of the star's salary. the sale of roy rogers but- tons, cowboy outfits, guns, and other staple star accessories is a lucrative business permeating every aspect of the modern rodeo. but when rider and wild horse are alone in the arena for an unrehearsed contest, in which the animal is often the winner, the commercial gimmicks must take a back seat and the spectator may share the rodeo rider's agony as john huston's direction of the misfits ( ) demonstrated. this is one un- changing and elementary part of the west that was. it is an aspect that is relatively unknown outside the united states, since the cost of trans- porting the vast amount of livestock around the world would be prohib- itive. in many countries—notably england-permits may not be issued for such exhibitions, on the ground that rodeos violate regulations concern- ing cruelty shown to animals. this is unfair, for the animals undergo no n c sztus ie ate ilt ! lit olun it en en multe erlin vils u la si montgomery clift and clark gable roping wild horses in a scene from the misfits ( ). sss . cube si het s harsher treatment than they do, or did, in the course of a spring roundup. it is not surprising to note, therefore, that the alleged “wild west” shows put on in england by such western stars as gene autry and tex ritter have been extremely tame, and with their emphasis on musical and low comedy elements they have represented a grave disappointment s the western to juvenile audiences expecting fast western action. australia, on the other hand, with its outdoor heritage and history not dissimilar to america's, does, however, reflect this heritage in its own rodeos, all staged on traditional cowboy lines. the western being the most amer- ican of all cinematic genres and representing—as stated by italian critic giulio cesare castello—“a common patrimony because among all themes it is perhaps, in its primitiveness, the most universal one,” had a mythological, human, social, and dramatic appeal which the subsequent trend towards assembly-line, studio production ignored, with only a few exceptions. but the adulterated "grade b” western, necessarily shot on location, saved the day for hollywood, as we shall see. ernest callenbach affirms that “in a sense, therefore, the westerns provided a link of continuity from the earliest years of the cinema to the later work of the documentary school: in their unassuming simplicity they supplied evidence that the real world could furnish abundant drama for the camera.” the monotonous hollywood carousel of battles against badmen and indians continued for many years, a gross distortion of historical fact and the pioneering spirit. the cataclysm of world war ii, the rapid advance in the movies' technology, the appalling world-wide decay in moral and intellectual values, were the concomitant factors in the appearance of a truly remark- able film, which presented the frontier in proper proportion, a film which pioneered the new western. william wellman's the ox-bow incident ( ) was a successful experiment in social comment, striking out at, in the name of authenticity, the dignity of and america's respect for the agony of a breed of pioneers, the whole false picture which the horse opera had presented to americans. the frontier as a day-by-day chron- icle of grim, gray, dedicated humanity, all its passions realistically ex- posed, was now seen for the first time. the psychological and social trend, this trend toward the truth at last, was followed in the gunfighter ( ) and high noon ( ), while john ford attempted a personal interpretation of custer's last stand in fort apache ( ), although ford did not refer in every case to history. it is therefore not surprising to read that in a study conducted in by the motion picture research bureau with two thousand respondents in forty-five towns, the percentage reserved to the influence of the western as a selective criterion for attending the showing of motion pic- tures in theatres indicated that . % men liked the genre, but . % disliked it; this feeling was even more antagonistic among women, since . % came out in favor of it, while . % expressed themselves against it. the rest of the overall percentage was represented by the in- fluences derived from other genres: drama, comedy, gangster pictures, musicals, et cetera. humor vevo . james stewart proposes marriage to debra paget in a scene from broken arrow ( ). town marshal gary cooper has to shoot it out alone in a scene from high noon ( ) the western the rehabilitation of the indian was a must, but delmer daves' broken arrow ( ) tended to go too far in the opposite direction, and several later films have had whites in the villains' roles. although fail- ures from a serious historical and sociological point of view, films like sitting bull ( ) and broken arrow nevertheless displayed an attitude in the desire to approach the real frontier from a radically different point of view. the indian is finally achieving his important place in the western saga just as the negro in southern literature is becoming, in the words of callenbach, “a moral problem and a symbol.” definite progress can be noted in the sympathetic and realistic depic- tion of the american indian when one compares broken arrow with the similar run of the arrow ( ), directed by samuel fuller some seven years later. although run of the arrow is a lesser film, far too sensational and unnecessarily brutal, far too little given to the gentle poetry that so distinguished delmer daves' earlier film, it is nevertheless a basically honest picture. both deal with a white man who comes to the indians as a sympathetic stranger, learns their ways, and lives as one of them. in broken arrow, the hero's first meeting with the apaches comes just after he has seen the mutilated bodies of two whites, tortured to death by the indians. thus the cliché image of indians as brutal savages is initially sustained, although there will be no more such brutality in the film. once the hero and the apache chief, cochise, have gradually formed a firm friendship, the worthwhile point is made that the indians are also human beings, with a code of behavior worth respecting. but that code is made to resemble the white man's code; it is a “civilized” code because it is a reasoning one, devoid of barbarity. the earlier episode of callous torture is ignored, and it is hoped that the audience will not recall it. run of the arrow likewise introduces its hero to the indians—in this case the sioux-in a savage episode of torture emphasizing the barbaric nature of the indians. by the time white man and indian finally make friends, the film has established that grounds exist for compromise, a mutual re- spect for bravery and basically similar religious beliefs. the climax comes in a shocking scene in which the sioux, in accordance with their tribal laws, put to death a captured white man, slowly skinning him alive. it is this act which finally forces the hero to the conclusion that he can no longer live as a sioux; he acknowledges that the sioux have a perfect right to live, unmolested, by their codes, but he is also forced to the reluctant admission that their codes can never be his. he then returns to his people, taking with him his indian wife and adopted indian child. the solution is more mature than the one presented in broken arrow. in daves' film, the hero, after having lost his indian wife -killed in a contrived skirmish-rides through the wilderness alone, condemned to a lonely life in a no man's land somewhere between the world of the whites, which would not accept him because of his friend- ship with the indians and his past marriage to an indian girl, and the world of the indians, which he could not entirely accept, being a white man. in proportion, and for its year ( ), broken arrow was the more outspoken film, since its ideas were then less certain of sympathetic ac- ceptance than the more advanced ideas expressed years later in run of the arrow. moral issues symbolically presented are appearing in an increasing number of films. the western theme is no more being exploited merely as a commercial product. true, even today the mass of westerns are, of course, mostly commercial, but the knowledge that the western “has come of age” has not failed to impress some creative men. george stevens has already recognized the mythological potential of the fron- tier sage with his shane ( ), as has fred zinnemann with his high noon. andré bazin in cahiers du cinema (christmas, issue) insisted on the recent vein of the "sur-western,” stressing the romanisation of frontier themes, using a very happy expression in our opinion. it is exactly the history and hollywood brandon de wilde bids farewell to his idol, the gunfighter shane, played by alan ladd. a scene from shane ( ). "sur-western” of today that is the basis for a truly remarkable series of experiments made by mann, ray, dmytryk, aldrich, brando, and other directors in order to achieve in due time, and with sensitivity, cultural research, and a genuine enthusiasm a new approach in the “discours sur la méthode du western.” the difficulties in rehabilitating the frontier spirit in the cinema are many and relevant. let us not forget the pulp and trash magazines, the comic strips, the easy merry-go-round routine of sheriffs and rustlers, still impressing the minds of both the young and adult. let us remember gene autry's “ten commandments of the cowboy,” which gained the approval of the motion picture industry, distributors, church groups, and grateful parents. under this code, the cowboy becomes a sort of adult boy scout. he must not take unfair advantage, even when facing an enemy. he must never go back on his word, or on the trust confided in him. he must always tell the truth, be gentle with children, elderly people, and animals. he must not advocate lor possess racially or religiously intolerant ideas. moreover, he must history and hollywood help people in distress, be a good worker, keep himself clean in thought, speech, action, and personal habits. he must respect women, parents, and his nation's laws. he must neither drink nor smoke. and finally, the cowboy is a patriot. let us keep in mind the hostility of many producers toward social themes. it is easier to let french sociologists write about the western hero as a frustrated man, who finds needed satisfaction, the "safety valve,” in releasing the charges of his gun, a typical phallic symbol. yes, the westerner was puritanically inhibited, but he did not sublimate his desires with his pistol. and yet hollywood, horrified, has not explained this particularly vital situation to the audiences. however, a few years ago, a marvelous sequence in robert wise's tribute to a bad man ( ) gave us a clue. in this western film depicting the adventures of a rancher who lays down his own law of necessity in a wild country, the camera focuses on a group of cow- boys resting in their bunks; over- head, on the next floor, the rancher's woman plays the piano. finally the music stops. in the silence the men look at each other and so express their thoughts. upstairs, a man and a woman have begun to make love, while they, the cowboys, are left to their physical and psychical lone- liness. this is an example of cine- matic and sound treatment which is still worth the hope of those—and there are many—who want a true description of the frontier. shooting the buffalo hunt for the last hunt ( ) in south dakota. the western but many worthy projects are ruined. in the last hunt ( ) the director, richard brooks, could have achieved a truly great western in this story of the buffalo hunters, the men who destroyed in less than thirty years a fantastic patrimony of sixty million beasts. but the paranoic in- stinct presented by robert taylor as a killer and the saccharine love story hopelessly drained the most vital content of the film. still, this was an interesting experiment, and the documentary sequences of the shooting of some of the surviving three thousand buffaloes in the reservation-in order to keep down their biological reproduction provided an unfor- gettable vision of earlier times, lived by a different breed of men. worth noting for its stark impact in visual, dramatic terms is the death of the neurotic villain, taylor, in the film's closing reel. he has cornered his more sympathetic partner (stewart granger) and the indian girl (debra paget), who had been his own unwilling mistress before turning to granger for protection, in a cave. the two men vow to duel to the death in the morning, and taylor wraps himself outside in a buffalo hide as shelter from a blizzard. in the morning, as granger comes to shoot it out with his former associate, now his deadly enemy, he is greeted with the grim sight of taylor frozen to death in the buffalo hide, during the fury of the night's blizzard. director brooks spares nothing in this sequence, putting it over for shock effect with a sudden close-up and a thunderous musical score. in itself an unimportant plot element, it is interesting to note, however, that this is one of the few examples of death on the range presented horribly. in depicting death in ugly and realistic terms, brooks made a minor, but positive contribution to the growing school of serious artists and students of the western genre. a somewhat romantic old-timer remembered that the cowboys “were dressed differently; they had their own language, code and costume. they lived by the gun and died by the gun. there were seldom any cowards among them. they loved best the open range, the sky, the mountains, and the breathless expanse of their wild, untamed land ..." but they were also human beings, who only recently have arrived from a conformist shell to be presented realistically with their universal values intact. if the present trend continues, the western film of today may constitute a rocky surface on which talented and sensitive men of the new schools of thought, more at one with our own day, will finally be able to dedi- cate their efforts to the frontier as part of the american heritage. they will truly present the unparalleled phenomenon of the west in the nation's history; they will give cultural expression to a significant mythology which knows no geographical or human limits, spreading the word on the authentic “homo americanus.” only then, will the vehement verses of black bart, the po- , no longer be applicable to dishonest manipulators of the true western theme; these men will be in eclipse. this history to follow of the western film will reflect our respect for truly creative achievements based on the real western theme, our uncompromising criticism towards that medi- ocrity which, according to josé ortega y gasset, has the gall to try to impose its rights everywhere. contents and ne the stereotype villain of the thirties: a mexican, oily, ugly, gross, over- dressed. this is richard cramer who was so villainous that he was actually much better as a burlesqued heavy in laurel and hardy comedies. the hero the western theme, based on the triplex system of the hero, the adventure, and the law, has at all times been fascinating to movie audiences. in the long, sometimes straight- forward, but often tortuous road towards de- velopment, the motion pictures have pre- sented the theme with different approaches and results. but in its more than fifty years of existence, the western film has completed, from at least a moral point of view, a first toral influence of the western cycle. “we'll give them a fair trial, and then hang them!” -anonymous the early westerns, approached in a quasi-documentary fashion, were charac- terized by sincerity of sentiment and a poetic spirit. later, the attention of film-makers to the genre jeopardized its freshness, and only william s. hart's undeniable contributions to realism stressed the morality inherent in the west's history. this was true in the sense that an authentic depiction of this history made the spectator feel he was wit- nessing not merely casual entertainment but, rather, a serious and dignified visual discus- sion of an era which had already passed into the nation's heritage. the epic, which enlarged the western for audiences with the depths of its research and the advantages of a gradual aesthetic and commercial development in movies, further enhanced the genre's prospects. but studio policies, guided by the public's clamor for more modern, lighter, “escapist” west- erns—the fast, showy vehicles of ken may- nard and hoot gibson, for example- brought about the first fundamental change in the contents and morals of the western. from now on, the cowboy was not necessarily the successor to the pioneer; he was no longer just the man who toiled hard raising cattle or defending the land barons' priv- ileges, the man whom the great cattle depression of – forced to roam the west looking for ways and means of supporting himself. an ideal- ized, whitewashed hero emerged, his character influenced by the various codes of associations, clubs, and groups. this new “hero” reached his zenith the closer he followed gene autry's "ten commandments of the cowboy,” listed in the previous chapter. all promulgated codes of morality are inevitably influenced by current moral trends; and the per- fectly acceptable behavior of the western hero in the twenties might be considered by some today as the ultimate in un-americanism. we have a perfect example of this in a mild and quite unimportant western of entitled shooting square. in it, the hero and heroine are to be mar- ried, and while they celebrate with a party at the ranch, a cowhand is sent to bring the preacher. the preacher, it turns out, is a negro. although he is presented likably, certain aspects of the traditional image of the comic negro persist. his clothes are ill-fitting and he speaks—subtitles, of course—in traditionally stereotyped fashion. "i'se de preacher,” is his first line upon greeting the distinctly shocked gather- ing. the result is astounding. the heroine almost faints and, indignantly returning the hero's ring, asks him: “how can you treat me like this?” the heroine's outraged father appears to be in a lynching mood, and the western . saloon girl louise glaum, villain robert mc- kim, and reformed outlaw william s. hart in the return of draw egan ( ). a ce he orders the negro from the ranch. the little preacher is bustled out as quickly as possible. later, however, the hero (jack perrin) restores himself to the heroine's favor, by assuring her that he meant no harm. the line that clinches the reconciliation is: “i didn't know he was black.” all this is treated casually; the incident is not used to incite racial hatred. jack perrin's hero is otherwise absurdly virtuous, possessed in abundance of the nine other commandments. today, of course, if such a sequence were included in a film, whole- sale picketing would automatically result, and possibly even violence. later in the film, hero and heroine seek out a white minister, and are then “married” by an apparent preacher, actually an outlaw in dis- guise; the heroine's discovery that her marriage is illegal provokes a much less concerned reaction from her than did her encounter with the authentic, but colored, minister! the cowboy-hero, this bulwark of physical and moral strength, was the backbone in the boom of the “b” westerns in the thirties. but his influence was felt in the epics that were then being made (jesse james, the oklahoma kid, union pacific, stagecoach—all in ), and this in- auence generally continued to be felt in the philosophy and policies of movie producers right through world war ii. it is no surprise, therefore, to notice that right after the end of the war, the ferment of new times began to exert its influence toward a revision of the cowboy cliché. there was a marked move to make the hero a less idealized character; his aims might continue to be those of the chivalrous knight, but he was too much of a realist to achieve those aims chival- rously. the war had destroyed too many illusions. bill elliott was perhaps the foremost exponent of this new “realism” in a series of westerns made for monogram and allied artists. the el- liott western saw a number of remarkable changes in the makeup and behavior of the western hero. in bitter creek, the hero needs information from a villain and, wasting no time playing the gentleman, elliott proceeds to beat the information out of him, all the time keeping him covered with a gun. the villain protests: "you wouldn't get away with this if you'd put that gun down!” in the old films, of course, such a taunt would have led to the hero's dropping both gun and belt and proving that right must always win by beating the tar out of his oppo- nent in a fair fist fight. elliott is not taken in, however; he replies: “but i'm not going to put it down,” and proceeds to slug away until the “heavy” gives in and makes his confession. in kansas territory ( ) elliott also resorts to brutal methods to run bill elliott, who emu- lated william s. hart in his westerns of the forties and fifties. a scene from waco ( ). the western down the man responsible for the death of his brother, and in at least two films in the series, waco ( ) and topeka ( ), he plays an out- law for most of the film-—not a lawman posing as an outlaw in the time- honored tradition. topeka bears a particularly close relationship to william s. hart's the return of draw egan ( ). in both films, the ultimate reformation is brought about not by genuine remorse over a life of crime, but rather through'a more sentimental expedient: the love of a good woman. in both films, the hero turns on his former cronies, still hoping to turn the situation to his own advantage, and he "reforms” only late in the game. elliott had the integrity not to weaken his reformation by a complete transformation. his reformation still works to his own advantage: through services to the community, he is pardoned; he gets the girl, and he keeps any stolen wealth he may have accumulated. a character even more obviously a product of the war was the near- mystical leader, quite recognizably patterned on nazi types; however, he did not appear on the screen until the nazi evil had been effectively minimized for the public due to the cold war. one has good examples of the leader-hero in such films as arrow in the dust ( ) with sterling hayden and the last wagon ( ) with richard widmark. the hero is an outlaw or an army deserter, frequently a killer. he is reconciled to the fact that he is being hounded, and he is not unduly bitter about it. given to contemplation, he is convinced his crime was perfectly justi- fied; but unconsciously placing himself apart from other men, he does not overly concern himself with proving his case. however, fate places him in the position of guiding the destiny of a group of men—in the western, obviously, the wagon train to be guided through hostile indian country is the perfect answer. he must maintain perfect discipline, to the point of extreme arrogance, brutality, and ruthlessness; the lives of the group are more important than the life of an individual; the end always justifies the means. before the adventure is over, the leader-hero has not only proven himself to the group under his command, but has made almost unnecessary and irrelevant any proof concerning his earlier crime. injurious effects the pioneer leader and the brutal, pragmatic cowboy may have had on youthful audiences were probably nullified by the completely whitewashed western heroes galloping then on television. now, however, that television has swung to greater realism, there may well be a far from salutary effect on american youth. few films, fortunately, went quite as far as did jack slade in extolling the courage of a killer, demanding sympathy and understanding, if not approval, for his acts. slade was a colorful at least . . an du me time ya ations usa mark stevens and barton maclane in a scene from jack slade ( ). tundummit onda historical character of the post-civil war west, a trouble-shooter for the stagecoach lines, and his very ruthlessness with outlaws brought with it a measure of law and order. finally, however, killing became an obses- sion, an obsession fanned by alcohol, to the point that he became a menace to the law he was paid to uphold, and he was finally lynched by vigilantes. in the film version, this bitter end was averted, and he died, almost seeking death in a form of self-atonement, in a fairly fought gun battle. mark stevens acted in and co-directed this interesting and powerful film, but in such an overwrought fashion that it was reminis- cent of the german film dramas of the twenties, such as warning shadows ( ) and that it failed to become the honest portrait of a man and an era that it might have been. it always seemed somewhat con- fusing in its demand for sympathy for a man whose very actions, in- cluding the crippling of a child, made such sympathy impossible. i the western generally, the war years-left the scars, of cynicism and bitterness on heroes, and it was with no surprise that we saw in the rawhide years ( ), a well-constructed and exciting western by rudolph mate, a, hero who is a cardshark, and a heroine who willingly becomes the vil- lain's mistress. these matters are so much taken for granted that the main issue of the film becomes not the regeneration of the hero and heroine, but the elimination of the villain so that the love affair between hero and heroine, presumably now to be sanctioned by marriage, may resume! -> the hero has been presented as an archangel without wings, a superman whose main interest on this earth is to redress wrongs. this saccharine formula was based on the hero's rescuing a girl or a widow, left alone to administer a farm or a ranch, from the crafty scheming of the mortgage holder. the hero had to rely entirely upon his rather elementary wits-after all, the situation did not involve too much think- ing-and, above all, on his physical prowess, substantiated by a very ac- curate gun, two powerful fists, and a fast horse. it was to his horse that the hero perennially returned, after he had disposed of the villain whose intentions concerning the girl were either dishonest or immoral or both. occasionally, particularly in the older westerns, the hero would ride off on his horse alone, the essence of west- ern camaraderie, but a romance of which there had been no sign through- out the action, would frequently blossom in time for the fadeout. under such circumstances, it became somewhat of a cliché for the horse to give its blessing to the union in one bit of “business” or another. the most common of these little routines was for the understanding horse to nudge his very bashful master, and in so doing force him into the arms of the girl. ken maynard and his beautiful palomino, tarzan, made a speciality out of this sort of thing. despite endless writings to the contrary—usually by critics who haven't seen enough “b” westerns—it is by no means unheard of for the hero to kiss the heroine. true, such displays of emotion hold little appeal for the juvenile audience, and thus are usually employed, if at all, only at the end. nevertheless, irresponsible writing has created the impression that a kiss in a “b” western is one of the “thou shalt nots," and that is far from the case. although his work can hardly be discussed along with “b” western clichés, william s. hart, sentimentalist that he was, frequently injected prolonged embraces into his westerns. certainly buck jones, william boyd, ken maynard, and all the others have, too, although admittedly gene autry, zealous upholder of the cowboy's “commandments,” has kept such scenes out of almost all of his films. but he would frequently add some spice for the adults. on the few oc- casions when he did “clinch” right in front of the camera, autry emerged a trifle shamefaced afterwards, but all this was usually handled in a light vein. as the “clinch” approached, the camera would pan to champion, autry's horse, who would react with surprise (stressed more by comic music than by his own "expression") as the audience heard the off-camera kiss. then the camera would swing back to a hot-and- bothered autry, wiping off lipstick, and “the end” would fade on be- fore any further exploitation of the situation was possible. contents and moral influence hero versus badman occupying prime position in the western genre is the group that we may loosely term “hero versus badman.” in these films, the hero battles out- laws (bank robbers, cattle rustlers, stagecoach bandits) simply because good must fight evil-and triumph. motivation for both sides is simple and clear-cut. some strength is added to these westerns when the hero is a u. s. marshal or some other form of law enforcement officer; in this way a measure of historical authenticity is added, and the fairy-tale- like conception of the hero as a knight seeking to right wrongs is minimized. the outline of the “hero versus badman” group was soon exhausted in stereotypes, and a number of sub-conflicts were added to the basic theme. a frequently used twist was for the hero himself to be a reformed outlaw, creating a moral tension (he was turning on his former friends) and a physical tension (he was distrusted by both sides). because the hero's crimes were usually innocuous enough to permit a happy ending, the use of this theme had only indifferent success except in the hands of william s. hart. hart had no qualms about making himself a com- pletely ruthless, although never despicable, outlaw. only his mood and his sense of the film dictated whether his endings were to be happy or sad, completely disregarding the so-called “moral considerations” of those pre-code days. another twist in the formula might be the adding of an extra incentive for the hero to pursue the villain. the villain was often the actual culprit in a crime for which the hero, or his father, had been wrongly convicted. a stronger motive was for the villain to have killed or seduced the hero's sister. in the years right after world war ii, this theme was expanded e and made even more personal: the hero's wife, and sometimes his entire family, had been wiped out by the villain. this particular motif was com- paratively rare in the silent era, for although the movies were freer then the killer (jack palance) prepares to gun down the farmer (elisha cook, jr.) in a scene from shane ( ). the villain the crimes of the badman were always prompted by a recognizable human emotion-greed, either for wealth or power. that greed was ex- pressed by robbery and murder in the more elementary westerns, and in the legal manipulations which brought about the “ theft” or control of towns and even territories, in the more elaborately plotted westerns. such immoral practices were still products of understandable minds. in many cases, the hero was depicted as a patient and understanding man who hoped, by reason, to bring about a change in the behavior of the villain, before swinging into physical action to affirm and enforce the fundamental values. the badman, although a brute in most cases, still represented some- thing that the audience could understand and possibly justify, although never condone, in view of the rigidly upheld code of ethics the hero repre- sented. “crime does not pay,” was the ubiquitous moral these westerns taught, but the audience was still able to indulge vicariously in the various manifestations of lust and crime the screen badmen presented. there was subtlety in subplots which presented conflicts in the out- laws' methodology. many of the villains' get-rich-quick schemes were essentially legal: the crimes were moral rather than legal in that the vil- douglas fowley, a stock villain in gangster films, occasionally made a convincing western heavy too. a scene from santa fe trail ( ). lains usually tried to cheat homesteaders out of potential wealth of which the latter themselves were not aware. one of the most reliable plots was for the villain to know in advance that “the railroad is coming through.” such an event meant, of course, that the land which the railroad would have to buy would become extremely valuable to its owners, and one can readily understand the villain's sharp business sense in trying to acquire all the available land in advance of the event. since such practices are, of course, quite legal, it was necessary to put the "heavy” in an unsympathetic light-in other words, he must achieve legal ends by illegal means. the ranchers must be subjected to a reign of terror. their cattle must be stolen to prevent their paying off notes on their lands held by the banks. (one of the movies' oldest clichés was for the town banker, outwardly the territory's most respected citizen, to be the brains behind the outlaw activities.) this basic idea was applied in other ways, too; the need for land by the cattle barons, or hidden gold located on the property, unknown to the owners. manipulation of land away from mexicans living in california, by voiding their old spanish land grants, brought a minor racial issue into the chicanery at times, but this was never fully developed. a formidable trio of villains from dawn on the great divide ( ): harry woods, roy barcroft, and robert frazer. eos com v vm b villains of the thirties and forties: edmund cobb (a western hero in the twenties), roy barcroft, and bud osborne. ents a terms du utot wth denne mp the building of a town in cimarron ( ). scene from the iron horse ( ). - es - os ne the western the most disturbing aspect of these legal crooks was the reaction they provoked in the townspeople. for the most part, the citizens were all for taking the law into their own hands, and having it out with their tormentors in blazing gun battles. it is interesting to note that the vil- lains were usually assisted in their machinations by a crooked sheriff who used legal loopholes to achieve dishonest results, and that the hero's staunchest ally was the newspaper editor. often this editor was the heroine, bravely carrying on after her father had been killed by the vil- lains, and who was, herself, defyingthreats from the outlaws. perhaps in an unconscious way, these two clichés reflect the american people's casual acceptance of corruption in politics, and their exaggerated enthusiasm for the value and power of a free press. (this, of course, is not to decry the democratic principles behind a free press, but rather to suggest that in america, abuse of that freedom, beyond the bounds of both good sense and good taste, is sadly permitted.) generally speaking, law and order is presented as somewhat ineffec- tual and not extraordinarily clever, but it is the unusual stupidity of the villains which brings about their downfall! the use of american history in the average horse opera has been mainly a matter of adaptation, the exploitation of a formula rather than the careful reconstruction of a period. such films as the covered wagon and the iron horse apart, great events in american history have successfully been reduced to a stale pattern. the coming of the pony express has been depicted faithfully occasionally; far more commonly it has been used merely as motivation: the villains oppose it because it threatens their own livelihood (a monopoly on stagelines, with a govern- ment mail-carrying contract). the villains rouse the indians to waylay riders and generally to destroy faith in the express' mounts. the ex- press accepted, more motivation was provided with the introduction of wild horses, culminating in an unlikely and irrelevant race between the two opposing parties. such a cross-country race, with the villains pull- ing every trick in the book to put their opponents out of the running, created a rousing climax to many a western. these endings provided countless opportunities for stunt men and trick riders to display their odd talents. range wars were very much a part of the american scene, but aside from the factually accurate staging of the lincoln county wars in king vidor's billy the kid ( ), they have been barely touched on in their true perspective by the hollywood western. the natural and under- standable enmity between sheepmen and cattlemen, the hatred of barbed wire, the control of water rights—all these elements which pro- voked open warfare between basically honest men have usually been pre- sented not for their own sake, but as instruments which the villains might manipulate for their own ends. the rangers step in ( ), fargo ( ), barbed wire ( ) were all films in this category. except in cimarron and tumbleweeds, the land rush had never been pre- sented as a moment in a nation's progress, but as a fairly common oc- currence (which it wasn't) which inevitably had one result-land grab- bers would set up a minor western crime empire. the oklahoma kid ( ) was a film in this category. similarly, the conditions which produced such outlaws as jesse james and the dalton gang have been presented in so many different lights on the screen that the outsider, knowing nothing of the real facts, must be totally confused. this question is discussed in greater detail elsewhere in the book; suffice it to say here that, according to the movies, most of the west's outlaws were latter-day robin hoods, forced into banditry by the sordid schemes of crooked politicians and the social upheaval of the post-civil war period, much as james cagney and his brethren were so often forced into gangsterism after world war i, in the roaring twenties ( ), public enemy ( ), and other films. contents and moral influence the indian if most films dealt with heroes rescuing girls from villains, a large por- tion of the remaining ones manipulated the american indian into the role of a red-skinned menace. except for the first phase in the history of the western, and the contemporary phase, the indian's existence in the united states has been dealt with by the movies in a stereotyped man- ner. the tragedy of the indian tribes, pushed backwards and back- wards again in violation of treaties and agreements, their confinement on reservations where unscrupulous indian agents exploited them shame- lessly, the disintegration of their fighting spirit and their traditional de- sire to live in peace with the white man-all these were aspects of indian life which american audiences were seldom able to witness, evaluate, and reflect upon on the screen. "a good indian is a dead indian.” this belief, which was strictly held and put into practice in many parts of the west, represented an inviolate pillar of thought for the creators of screen formulae. the most that the indian could expect in hollywood's hands was a presentation as the white man's equal; but this only so that he could be killed, cold- bloodedly, under the same "justice” that dispatched badmen who were white. but the indian was usually not even granted those human fail- the western ings and influences which motivated the crimes of whites. despite the writings of james fenimore cooper and germany's karl mai whose many books had as much success in germany as did the works of zane grey in america, the indian proved to be a far less useful character to film-makers than the cowboy, the texas ranger, or even the infrequently seen canadian mountie. initially, at least, the indian was seen as a hero almost as frequently as the white man, but already there was a dif- ference. he seemed more of a symbol, less of an individual, than the cow- boy, and he was presented in a more poetic, and often more tragic, light. but after he was not really presented as an individual at all, not until the racial cycle of the late forties. in the interim, he was an un- motivated enemy; villains might be presented as individuals, but the indians were always shown en masse. there were very few westerns with indians as the only heavies, for the simple reason that without motive there could be no plot. maynard's the red raiders of is one of the few exceptions in that it has no white villains, and depends on indian aggression for its sole action. while admitting that indians can be human enough to want peace, it still dealt with them as warlike children, - and never as believable human beings. few westerns have emulated the red raiders' example of eliminating white villains entirely. ford's stagecoach, in which the menace is provided by the pursuit of geronimo's apaches, found it necessary to tack on a climactic (or anti-climactic) duel between the hero (john wayne) and an outlaw (tom tyler). this is not to say that the indians have always been depicted as vil- lainous savages; but in the bulk of the “b” westerns their function was primarily to provide formula action by taking to the warpath in opposi- tion to the heroes. in films like prairie thunder ( ) they were spurred on by white renegades; in the law rides again ( ) and count- less others, they took to the warpath because of fancied grievances against the whites (a crooked white indian agent had been stealing sup- plies promised them by the government); and in fort osage ( ) their warlike actions were deliberately provoked by white renegades who hoped that an indian war would cover their own depredations. in such - westerns, the indian was alternately villainous and misunderstood, but he rarely emerged as a human being. this changed to a very great degree after the advent of broken arrow ? ( ). once hollywood made up its mind to make up to the indian for past misrepresentation, the pendulum swung completely to the other side. from now on it was to be the indian who sought peace, and the white man who was the agitating aggressor. but the pendulum was not to swing so far as to dehumanize the white man as had once been done cochise (jeff chandler) com- forts his white man friend (james stewart) when renegades kill his indian bride (debra paget). from broken arrow ( ). to the indian. there were always to be individual motives attributed to the white villain which made him atypical of his race, e.g. the villainous trader who knows that peace with the indians will mean an end to his illicit traffic (grant withers in ford's rio grande), and most common of all, the martinet military commander who hates indians with a blind passion (jeff chandler in two flags west, henry fonda in fort apache) and is opposed to any means which will bring about a cessation of hostilities short of total defeat of the indians. since such men are almost always presented as complete or near-complete neurotics, they stand midway between guilt and innocence, and they are made to appear very much the exception rather than the rule. the indian is presented in this case in a more realistic fashion; he is the victim rather than the aggressor, but the question of blame, which should rightly be placed on the governmental policies of that time, is neatly side-stepped: the authentic motives for indian hostility were seldom, if ever, ex- plained; the main function of these americans consisted in providing a convenient mass enemy, and a series of spectacular moving targets. once the cliché was accepted, explanations of motivation were in any case no longer necessary. the very word indian became synonymous with savagery and villainy, just as the words german, japanese, nazi, or ruth roland, queen of the western serials. communist in themselves later became not merely descriptive nouns, but adjectives of automatic infamy in many areas of world and cinematic affairs the woman the cult of the super-hero fighting the good fight in a confused and largely hostile world populated by white outlaws and indian savages, was further developed by the role of the woman. . originally she was shown as the full-fledged companion of the pioneer, certainly his equal, and occasionally possessed of an inner strength that made her his superior. later, her image deteriorated into that of a frail creature, forever at the mercy of the lawless element, for- ever dependent for protection and her livelihood upon the hero. in other words, she ceased to become a plot participant and became a plot moti- vator; defense of her honor and rights became as important in them- selves as the battle between law and lawlessness. later still, towards the end of the thirties, she became more self-reliant, increasingly athletic, and conscious of her sex appeal. in the post-war period, this sex appeal became an exasperating and exasperated leitmotif, which found its justi- fication in two fundamental exigencies of the motion picture industry: the reaction to the puritanism of the production code, exerting an archaic censorship over a depiction of true passion and other legitimate emotions, and the need to stimulate sagging box office returns. thus the cycle is complete even in this important aspect of the western: the image of the western women, as rendered by hollywood, stands con- between the sentimental and mythological conception of the pure eak and defenseless female, without any personality of her own, ially dependent on the hero, and the titillatingly sexual and ag- 'e heroine. ! contents and moral influence ite and the law e revision of the cowboy image, the demands of the public re- he revision of the concepts of adventure and law, two other coef- fil n the western formula. such a process continues today with dif- ferent, inixed results, but the first cycle of the western is complete. in fifty years, the realistic approach has been greatly adulterated and only recently are the real moral issues of the old west again being discussed. in the meantime, world audiences have had a chance to appraise the western era as a totally lawless one, and the isolated examples of films in which a true evaluation of this historical period was possible, left only slight marks on audiences. prolific grade “b” western production (made probably for u. s. and british consumption and exported elsewhere only in a limited way) has offered an appalling series of clichés which has dominated american thinking concerning the west for decades. adventure and the law are linked with the hero as complementing · essentials in the visual presentation of the story. adventure in westerns has of the three most retained its classic presentation. it has always focused on the great plains as the outdoors (epitomized by grandiose perspectives, such as those obtained by ford with his location shooting in monument valley for stagecoach and other films) and on the saloon indoors. the stories played out against these natural or man-made back- a typical program western from triangle: william desmond and luella maxim in deuce duncan ( ). drops have stuck with traditional incidents; chases, barroom brawls, and gun duels are necessary ingredients, basic actions that perennially recur in the evolution of the story. but the concept of the law has changed considerably indeed. the rough sketch of the sheriff of old has recently been undergoing changes in a psychological process, the result of which is a general humanization of the character. the extreme in this modern revaluation has tended to identify the lawman with the type of hero played by gary cooper in fred zinnemann's high noon. this is an important metamorphosis, which may well be coupled with the parallel revaluation of the indian in delmer daves' broken arrow, the film that rediscovered the obvious humanity of a conquered but still proud race, and that, in the words of critic guido aristarco, “breaks an arrow in favor of the indians, who enter, in this way, the cinema as adults.” the western plot versus action? the discovery of a "social conscience” in the western and this applies not only to films with indian themes, but also to films like high noon and at gunpoint! which dealt with the responsibility of the individual to the community—had one very definite effect on westerns. this effect was felt on all films, but it was most noticeable in the western. it slowed them down, badly, not only in their narration, but in their over- all pacing. in the older westerns, men acted; for better or for worse, wisely or stupidly, they acted. they didn't ponder, debate, subject their tortured souls to self-examination. and there is no reason to suppose that the pioneers of the old west acted in this pseudo-literary fashion either. if they did, they could hardly have survived and opened up the frontier as they did, even though frontier existence required, and received, mature thought and deliberation as well as determined action. plots of “b” westerns were rarely afflicted with these problems; the “b” of was little different in plot from the “b” of . such dif- ferences as there were, were in details rather than essentials. in keeping pace with the times, the westerns introduced gangster methods into the villainy, and also stressed it in their titles. (racketeers of the range, enemies of the law, gangsters of the frontier, gangster's enemy no. , etc.) with the war in europe brewing, standard plots were topically re- vamped. in a john wayne vehicle for republic, pals of the saddle, enemy agents illegally mined tungsten and sold it to a “foreign power” in violation of the u. s. neutrality act. in george o'brien's border g-man, wild horses are being rounded up and sold, not to the pony ex- press, but to that same unnamed foreign power. with america's entry contents and moral influence into the war, nazi agents somewhat improbably supplanted cattle rustlers in films like cowboy commandos, texas to bataan and valley of hunted men. with the war over, uranium became a more valid plot- motivating factor than gold or silver—and science-fiction put in some strange appearances, too. on one memorable occasion, roy rogers and trigger galloped not after a runaway stagecoach, but after a runaway jet rocket! the first real glimpse of a change of morals on the screen came with the outlaw. its revamping of the western on an erotic level did not fail to stir up the self-righteous indignation of both those who believed in the preservation of the old order in westerns, and those pressure groups who sought and still seek to censure and stifle hollywood on the slightest provocation. with the approach of postwar problems of both national and international significance, problems that had arisen with the ces- sation of hostilities, and at a time when new values were being introduced into a confused climate even before the old values had been entirely dis- carded, the western underwent severe changes. it was, of course, in the western that the old values were primarily reflected, in a cinematic sense, and in a real sense for america, too; and because of this the west- ern had to be the principal victim in a critical dissection, the results of which saw traditional concepts of plot and action in the western overhauled. in the thirties aldous huxley lamented over the ex- hibition of violent western films to asiatic audiences, feeling that they presented a completely erroneous version of life in america on the frontier; in more recent times the trend has gone to the opposite extreme, in the open discussion of moral and racial problems, and in the utilization of psychological and literary themes. lately, westerns have given us a hero as extroverted or introverted as a character in gide or kafka; his action is presented in a far more complex and measured fashion than was ever possible within the bounds of the cliché of the fast gunman. greater realism in the actions of individuals, projected against the back- ground of, or submerged within the collectivity of western merchants, farmers, and ranch hands, has begun to materialize. the honest and dignified mien now allowed the indian, the shifting of emphasis back to the real pioneer, the re-emphasis of the woman's important and equal role in the opening up of the west, the considera- tion of the human qualities, the failings as well as the heroism of the law enforcer ... all these changes have taken root in the new era of west- erns, and even the least important, and least ambitious films aesthetically, show unmistakable signs of these changes. certainly far too many of these films are little more than maladroit and pretentious essays in sociology and psychology; the action has slowed down drastically, but hind then to vin, **tzon the western the mere existence of these westerns provides a welcome, if no longer refreshing, note. there is a certain moral dimension to the modernization of the western, modern not in the sense of streamlined, but in the sense of mature in our time. this moral dimension is expressed in the effort made by producers and directors to find inspiration in original sources, and in so doing abandoning stale clichés. but these undertakings, or at least the successful ones, are still relatively isolated instances, and praise- worthy as it is to clean house of old clichés, it is regrettable to see, even now, a great many new ones coming into being. but at least this signals evolution and, hopefully, progress. it is certainly not stagnation. a healthier, more realistic influence is being brought to bear on those movie audiences—still large—that love the western. instinctively, the audience realizes that it has been deprived for a long time of the true and unvarnished depiction of one of the most essential and interesting periods in american history. the western no longer represents an in- nocuous adventure story, supplemented at home by children playing “cowboys and indians.” before world war ii, the united states audi- ence and the international public were confronted with great numbers of “entertainment commodity” westerns: some attracted top playing time in metropolitan centers; others-a majority-were cheaply made five-reelers designed for more general consumption in small towns and rural areas. the oleographic conceptions of story presentation, and the archaic formulae, largely devoid of any creativity or artistry, did not lead to a general protest over the so-called moral values presented, for the simple reason that patent immorality did not manifest itself on the screen. the games of chase and fight, of crime and retribution, had become so con- ventional that the public looked at them without having to think on the subject, and certainly without being deeply moved by it. in the postwar years, this began to change, and the pressing requirement for firmly established plot lines in conjunction with fast action is generally recog- nized now, even among the most emphatic supporters of the “psycho- logical western,” since an effective, interdependent, and mutually beneficial relationship between plot and action is a prime requirement for successful—that is, honest-westerns. necessity for a living legend the new moral strength of the hollywood western lies in its statement to audiences that life in the old west, notwithstanding the falsely contents and moral influence glamorized and savage portrait that hollywood painted in the past, was hard, monotonous, but also heroic ... a life that had neither gods nor devils; hollywood has begun to inform the public that the west was peopled with simple human beings with all their strengths and weak- nesses, a folk not very different from those in the audience. in due time, and with proper care, such a tradition should acquire all the necessary attributes of a living legend, a myth whose authentic example will be accepted by the american nation in its true perspective. non-american, and specifically european audiences have always ap- proached the western in an enthusiastic manner, granting even the poorer examples some poetic and realistic foundations which are often baseless. this enthusiastic attitude is often not shared by american audiences who regard the western naturally, without the emotional enthusiasm for the "foreign" and the "exotic,” which is what the western signifies for the european. these non-american audiences then, kindly disposed towards the western in any event, have been even quicker to accept and approve the mature changes in the western for- mat than have their american counterparts. the combined effects of public taste, the reflections of modern times and the need—now a commercial as well as an aesthetic need—to pre- sent the western in a more adult framework, are all causing hollywood to take into consideration, both directly and indirectly, the moral in- fluence of their western product in artistic, social, and human terms. some of the more dynamic producers of this new school may well know that the vital requirement in their efforts is progression instead of the tested but untrue status quo. the american cinema, on the basis of its past achievements, has the key to a splendid future in developing the fine resources of its epic past. and if the gangster film, the civil war film, and other branches of adventure in the motion picture, all find their roots in the western, there is all the more reason to perfect the purest and most original genre of the american cinema. such a challenging ideal might in itself bring about a true renaissance in the american cinema, and with it renewed support from the movie audiences of the united states and abroad. the primitives: edwin s. porte the great train robbery and broncho billy anderson "a film without emotional feeling is scarcely worth consideration.” sergei m. eisenstein the great train robbery, made in , has often been erroneously described as “the first story film,” “the film that introduced narrative to the screen,” “the first western” and the “film with the first close-up.” it was actually none of these things, but it was the first dramatically creative american film, which was also to set the pattern-of crime, pursuit, and retribution for the western film as a genre. the edison company had played with western material for several years prior to the great train robbery. cripple creek bar- room of was a brief vignette of western life. buffalo bill cody had been filmed, and so had some of the simple action "acts” (indians scalping white men) that had proved so popular at koster and bial's music hall. but the great train robbery was no mere vignette. almost a reel in length, it was a remarkably polished film for ; it told a dramatic story visually, and without subtitles; it cut between interiors and exteriors with fluidity; it utilized good visual compositions; and it built its tension astonishingly well, considering that editing for dramatic effect was then unknown and director porter had no precedents to which he could refer. the film was largely shot on a track of the delaware and lackawanna railroad near dover, new jersey. its locale was, of course, supposed to be the far west, where train holdups were still by no means un- common. the great train robbery opens with a se- quence in the interior of a railroad telegraph office; a typical early movie set, photographed in typically static long-shot fashion. however, there is an unusual effect: the arrival of the train shown through a win- dow. certain historians have claimed that this was achieved by con- structing the set immediately adjacent to the railway track, but in actual fact a good, if occasionally unsteady, superimposition was the modus operandi. the bandits bind the telegraph operator; then, a cut to an exterior. as the train pauses by the railroad's water tower outside, the bandits board it. from the new jersey exterior locale, porter then cuts to a studio interior set of the express car. this, of course, is elementary movie-making, but was not so in , when films (other than the fantasies of méliès) were usually limited to single sets and single time- spans, in order to avoid confusing the audience. porter then switches to another exterior, his camera placed on the rear of the tender, photo- graphing the train in motion. the villains approach, and overpower the drivers. there is a well-staged scrap, and in a particularly deft piece of stop-motion work, dummies are substitued for the actors before they are thrown from the moving train. the callous treatment of the drivers seems to have been a deliberate attempt by porter to emphasize that he the western very possibly the first western of any kind, w. k. l. dickson's cripple creek bar- room was made by the edison company in . a scene from the great train robbery ( ). porter and anderson was not glamorizing outlaws undeserving of sympathy. this is further emphasized when the train stops and an incredible horde of passengers- presumably the entire population of dover-descends. one of them makes a break for freedom, and is shot down in cold blood. their loot secured, the bandits escape in the train, bring it to a halt some distance up the track, and in a long and smoothly executed panning shot, retreat into the woods. the crime established, the devel- opment now cuts abruptly to the forces of law and order. at the tele- graph office, the operator's little daughter discovers the plight. the film cuts again, this time to the dance hall—a simple set, with painted back- drops, but with so much activity going on that its synthetic quality is not too stridently apparent. with an energetic quadrille in progress, a tenderfoot is forced to dance, the westerners shooting at his heels to spur him on. this sequence not only presented an interesting slice of americana to early movie audiences, but it was also a singular attempt at greater conviction in rounding out the story with background ma- terial. in addition, it was a method of increasing suspense; the audience knew that the telegraph operator would arrive momentarily to seek the aid of the cowboys, and that knowledge kept interest at a high level. the final section of the film—the chase, the robbers thinking they are safe dividing the spoils, and then being surprised and bested in a gun battle—is, of course, a typical western finish. it is the least successful part of the film only because porter's actors were not experienced riders or stuntmen; the chase is slow and listless, and the falls unconvincing. however, since one must judge the great train robbery not so much as a western, but as a blueprint for all westerns, criticism on the score of badly staged physical action is perhaps not justified. the film has a cer- tain emotional feeling, the basic factor in cinematic narration. on the strength of the great train robbery, edwin s. porter-who wrote, directed, and photographed it-might well have become the "father” of the american cinema. (in fact, on the basis of this one eight-hundred foot film, many historians believe that he is already entitled to be considered just that.) but porter's case is a curious and perhaps, for him, a frustrating and tragic one. porter came to edison in , a mechanic with a rare enthusiasm for experimentation. attach- ing himself to the inventor's motion picture company as an all-around man, he worked with films for seventeen years; yet only a handful of films—the great train robbery, the life of an american cowboy, (together with “lives” of policemen and firemen), the kleptomaniac and rescued from an eagle's nest can be said to have any real or lasting value, and of these, only the great train robbery had genuinely creative cinematic con- the western tent. porter's genius seems to have been one of dramatic construction, rather than of genuine cinema sense. it could well be accidental that in the case of the great train robbery these two elements fused so well. the great train robbery may be notable for its use of a close-up, but that close-up was so meaningless and ambiguous that the edison publicity at the time informed exhibitors that they could use it at either the beginning or the end of the film. porter realized that the scene—a full close-up of george barnes, one of the outlaws, pointing his gun at the audience—had both dramatic and shock effect, but he seemed to flounder when deciding what to do with it. just how many of porter's limitations were inherent in the man, and how many were inflicted by edison, is a matter for conjecture. edison was not an easy man to get along with, a man who disliked his assistants' branching out too much on their own. an inventor and a craftsman, not an artist, he expected his associates to be likewise. what aesthetic contents the edison films had were usually ones that found their base in mechanics, e.g. the lighting and camerawork were often well above average. in any event, despite the fact that porter made other films, none showed any progression from the great train robbery, and indeed many of them, including full-length features ten years later, exhibited a distinct step backward. certainly, however, the film was a tremendous success. its title alone was more dramatic, glamorous, and promising of excitement, than any american movie title had been up to that time. its success inspired a number of sequels, imitations, and outright plagiarisms. sigmund lubin even made a film with the same title which duplicated the sets and action of porter's original exactly, the only difference being the addition of a local bank's calen- dar to the interior of the telegraph operator's office-presumably for suitable remuneration! other obviously derivative titles included the great bank robbery, the bold bank robbery, the little train robbery, and biograph's the hold-up of the rocky mountain express. the edison studios remained quite faithful to the format of the great train robbery for a number of years. even a film as late as across the great divide ( ) dealing in its entirety with a train robbery, had advanced from the original only sufficiently to lend greater motivation to the proceed- ings, and to establish individual characters more clearly. actually it was a much duller and slower film than porter's original. the title retained its magic through the years; by repeated presenta- tion in theatrical shorts of the “flicker flashback" type, the great train robbery remained one of the most famous movie titles of all. it was used again in , as the title of a bob steele melodrama for republic, and currently a third version is planned by frank sinatra. looking nothing like one of the first directors of westerns, nor even like a pioneer cameraman (both of which he was), edwin s. porter looks more like a highly successful businessman (which he certainly wasn't). with all his limitations, porter was nevertheless the most creative single force in motion pictures between (when he was among the foremost of the "industry's” reputed total of six motion picture cameramen) and , when d. w. griffith joined biograph. it was porter who, in one of his last notable films, rescued from an eagle's nest, introduced griffith to the screen. using the name lawrence griffith, d. w. had tried to sell the edison studios a script he had written. the studios weren't interested, but they did offer him the lead in rescued from an eagle's nest and, in need of money, he accepted. rescued from an eagle's nest is inferior to the great train robbery, although admittedly it was a difficult subject to do well in those early days. the kidnaping of a baby by the eagle, and the pursuit by the father (griffith) to the eagle's nest, high on a mountain ledge, was a thrilling enough plot premise and, in fact, it did thrill audiences in . how- ever, the cutting between studio scenes, with their painted backdrops, to actual exteriors, filmed in new jersey, merely emphasized the lack of authenticity of the studio exteriors. none of the exteriors in the great train robbery had been anything but the real thing, only the interiors of telegraph office, saloon, and baggage car being studio reconstructions. the obvious painted flats of rocky mountains and high ledges did not match up too well with new jersey's wooded slopes. the cutting was somewhat slipshod, and often overlapped badly. at one point griffith is lowered over a ledge and climbs laboriously downwards; after a few feet of film, porter cuts to a different angle, with griffith again only just beginning the descent. the final fight between griffith and the stuffed eagle was particularly ineptly photographed; the struggle took place at the extreme left of the camera set-up, yet no attempt was made to move the camera even slightly to catch all of the action, with the result that at least half of the fight is out of the frame, and the rest is overshadowed by the big ex- panse of black painted backdrop that dominated nine-tenths of the frame. the result was a fight hard to follow and devoid of dramatic realism. apparently porter and edison never made retakes, although it is curious that such a patently bad—yet important-sequence should be accepted in such a state. like the great train robbery though, rescued from an eagle's nest pro- vided some interesting commentaries on life in the early west. pioneers are shown working in an organized communal fashion in the clearing of land and the felling of trees, and when danger threatens, all recog- nize their individual responsibility to the group and aid the father in rescuing his child from the eagle. perhaps, had porter like griffith joined biograph following rescued from an eagle's nest, he might have realized his full potential as a motion picture director. instead he chose to stay with edison, stagnated, and slowly passed into obscurity. when he died on april , , in his seventies, he had been so much for- gotten that the general reaction was one of surprise that this pioneer had been living until such a late date. the first western star another edwin porter graduate was g. m. anderson, later better known as “broncho billy" and the first real western star. anderson stumbled into a role in the great train robbery almost by accident. assuring porter that he could ride like a texas ranger, he was cast in the minor role of one of the bandits and he soon showed that he couldn't even get on a horse, let alone stay on it. he was in short order made an "extra" for the rest of the picture, but excited by the possibilities of the films— possibilities which he certainly doubted until he saw the tumultuous reception afforded the great train robbery at its initial showing-an- derson told himself that this was the business for him, and went to work for vitagraph as an actor and gen- eral production assistant. he di- rected a version of raffles, the ama- teur cracksman, in for that company, moving to chicago two years later. chicago was then a broncho billy anderson, dressed in the east- erner's conception of the western costume, de- rived largely from dime novels. porter and anderson minor movie metropolis with colonel william selig, george kleine, and george k. spoor busily engaged in the production of one-reelers. ander- son went to work for selig. selig never was a very enterprising outfit, and anderson, remembering the acclaim of the great train robbery, thought of going off to colorado with a cameraman, recruiting a cast out there, and shooting some western adventures on location. the films had only indifferent success and, because selig seemed apathetic to anderson's work, anderson looked up his old friend, george k. spoor. they decided to go into business together, not realizing that the company they were forming, the essanay company (based on the initials, s and a, of its founders), was to become one of the most honored of all the early movie studios. located in chicago, it was later the headquarters for many of the early charlie chaplin, francis x. bushman and henry b. walthall subjects, and gloria swanson's early proving ground. after having directed comedies, using ben turpin, anderson moved in late to niles, california, and launched a west coast studio for the company. he had time to think now, and he sought the reasons for the failure of his selig westerns. his conclusions were that they had tried too hard to repeat the formula of the great train robbery; there had been no central character on which the audience could focus its attention. - he now decided to build a cowboy hero, a tremendous idea in the days before the star system. he was literally creating the western star, and laying the groundwork for cowboy heroes yet unborn. - the difficulty, however, was to find such a star. stage players were still, as a whole, reluctant to risk films. california, in any case, not being an entertainment center, was hardly well stocked with stage players, or even out-of-work actors of any description. after protracted efforts, and out of sheer desperation, anderson decided to play the lead himself. he had once posed for a cowboy cover on the saturday evening post; that, and his undistinguished roles in the great train robbery, were his sole connections with the west. he could ride a little better now, but still not like a texas ranger. no longer young, he was big and beefy, with striking, but decidedly not handsome features. however, he could not worry about breaking precedents; he was making them. it was a tre- mendous leap, both for him and for the westerns. his first film was adapted from a peter b. kyne story. it was titled broncho billy and the baby, a sentimental tale with billy playing a “good badman” who is ulti- mately reformed by love. it was an enormous success, and convinced billy not only that he should stick with westerns, but that he should use broncho billy as a continuing character, however, treating each broncho billy's a scene from oath ( ). story individually, so that it would not matter how often billy married, reformed, or was killed off. over the next few years, billy made close to five hundred short westerns, one-reelers at first, and then two-reelers. they were the first real “series” westerns, the first with an established star, and the films that really established westerns as a genre. they were simple in plot (billy, not being of the west himself, had to fall back on pulp magazines and dime novels for inspiration) and had none of the starkness or the documentary quality that william s. hart was later to introduce. but they were often surprisingly strong and vigorous in their action content, with elaborately constructed and absolutely convincing western town sets. the camera work was good, and anderson, being a husky and well- built individual, was more than up to the action. a trifle dour in the later hart tradition, he presented a reasonably realistic and not too glamorized portrait of the frontier's manhood. after a seven-year period, anderson moved into features, but by this time william s. hart had taken over the field, together with tom mix, and the veteran realized that he had missed out. he returned to comedies, and in the early twenties produced a good series of stan laurel comedies for metro release. however, like many another since, billy felt that he was being treated unfairly by louis b. mayer. unable to improve the situation, he said goodbye to films and retired. thirty- five years later, in , he told television audiences of his part in the moulding of hollywood's cowboy formula, in the course of a ninety- minute show on nbc. he appeared with john ford, john wayne, gene autry, gary cooper, and others. today, close to eighty, still alert and vital, he has been slowed down by a slightly lame leg, but he is eager as ever to talk about what must have been for him the good old days. it is a pity that few of the hundreds of broncho billy anderson pictures have survived, which complicates any accurate appraisal of his qualities as a director. but there is certainly no denying the tremendous popularity of his films, or their influence on western production generally. we wish to quote at this point, and in its entirety, a typical unsigned review of one of the anderson westerns, as published in the moving picture world, a trade paper, in its may , , issue in order to stress the action and solidity of those primitive works: a mexican's gratitude porter and anderson “an essanay film which had some thrilling scenes and is certain to please the aver- age audience wherever it is shown. there is life and action without bloodshed and the melodramatic features are made attractive rather than repulsive. the story is that a mexican is saved from being hanged as a horsethief by the sheriff. he writes the word 'gratitude' on a card, tears it in two and gives one half to the sheriff and keeps the other half himself. years afterward this same sheriff falls in love with a girl of the west. she is wanted by a cowboy and he contrives to bring the sheriff and another girl together, and gets the girl the sheriff loves there just in time to see him in the scheming girl's embrace. explanations are impossible and he sees the girl he wants walk away with the false cowboy. the sheriff has a fight with him and forces him to confess his treachery. the cowboy goes to a mexican's hut and secures the services of two greasers to do his bidding. the three lie in wait for the sheriff and his sweetheart, overpower them and drag them away to the mexican's hut where the cowboy tantalizes the sheriff for a time and then forces the girl into another room. the mexican wants some tobacco and sees a sack pro- jecting from the sheriff's pocket. in pulling it out, he pulls out also the half of the card with the word 'gratitude' upon it. when the cowboy returns to the room he is comparing the card. he then asks the sheriff if that was given him by a man whom he saved from lynching a few years before. the sheriff replies that it was. whereupon the mexican immediately loosens the sheriff's bonds, and a fight be- tween the sheriff and the cowboy ensues. the sheriff has him across a table chok- ing him into insensibility when the girl appears and begs him to stop and they go away together. it is impossible to invest this story in telling with the life that is in the picture. it seems almost as though the characters were going to speak, they do their parts so naturally, while the staging is remarkably good. the film was heartily applauded in two theatres where it was seen the past week, and everyone who attends motion picture shows knows that applause is somewhat rare.” complete reliability cannot be placed on these early reviews since, of course, film criticism was not yet clearly defined. there were few prec- edents for comparisons, and many of the terms to describe film gram- mar and construction had not yet been devised; indeed, film grammar itself was still in the formulative stage. since trade papers tried to help both exhibitors and distributors, they were probably prone to be lenient with really bad films, and possibly excessively generous to the good ones. but, the reviews as such seem to be honest. there are definite signs of the awareness of dramatic and photographic merit, and appropriate if mild criticism for the lack of those qualities. “bought” reviews were un- likely; if they existed, they did so far more subtly than their counter- parts today. the western a scene from broncho billy and the redskin. in costum- ing, plot, and characterization, the anderson westerns matured rapidly. hollywood makes more westerns as a result of the great success of anderson's westerns, there was im- mediately an increase in the number of westerns made from on, and the big vogue of one-reeler classics such as the merchant of venice, julius caesar, romeo and juliet declined. , incidentally, was distin- guished not only by the upswing in the production of westerns in the u. s., but also by the increased importing of european films, which also included a fair proportion of westerns. denmark's great northern film company was particularly adept at imitating american melodramas and westerns. their texas tex was about as thoroughly western a title as it is possible to conceive. selig was among the most prolific of westerns manufacturers in the united states at this time. his in old arizona was rated one of his most ambitious subjects to date, and was recommended as being of sufficient merit for repeat bookings in first-class halls, although it was criticized to some extent for its inaccurate military detail. but it was certainly full of action, with a big indian battle in the desert; the cavalry arrived in the nick of time in response to a call for help, sent via carrier pigeon by the enterprising villain! this was the era of the swarthy mexican vil- lain, and so it was here—although he had a treacherous indian as his henchman. however, the indian was by no means a stock villain in selig westerns. in an indian’s gratitude, the hero was an indian who had been taught the fifth commandment. when the villain is captured by the indian tribe, and is about to be hanged, not without some justi- fication, the indian hero intercedes, persuading his brothers to follow the white man's moral law. the film prompted a critic of the time to remark: “the selig trademark has come to mean a film of unusual quality.” other interesting selig westerns of included boots and saddles, with the young heroine saving the cavalryman-hero from death at the porter and anderson stake; in the badlands, a bizarre picture in which the villain perished freezing to death in the snow; a film however that was criticized for the painted backdrops it used, and also for the inaccuracy of its costuming; stampede, praised for its accurate depiction of western ranch life, pet of the big horn ranch, custer's last stand, on the border, pine ridge feud, and countless others. despite his obvious reliance on westerns as his bread and butter, selig could still afford to kid them occasionally. his the tenderfoot was but one of many satires on westerns made in by several companies, edison among them, who derived a considerable portion of their revenue from westerns. pathé's misadventures of a sherif seemed amusing, and was probably a forerunner of the hilarious west- en satires that mack swain made some years later. by the western was sufficiently established as a genre for film critics to be harsher with it than they were with other types of motion picture. be- cause of the often spontaneous nature of the shooting, there were una- voidable anachronisms and inaccuracies in all types of pictures, but the critics seemed to single out the western-and its near relations—for the most pointed barbs. one critic was particularly upset because an eskimo baby in a cry from the wilderness was seen to be wearing white underwear beneath his crude skins. and edison's the corporal's daughter had its cavalry gallop out of its frontier fort on to a paved road, with a conspicuous sewer. moving the camera just a foot or two away would have avoided such a boner. there were other signs that the motion picture was gradually, but surely, being taken more and more seriously. then, as now, there were protests from british production groups that their product was being boy- cotted in the u. s. there were cries of despair from pressure groups at the "garbage masquerading as art” that was being imported from france. and already box office polls had been taken to ascertain which areas responded most readily to certain types of film. the midwest, usually regarded as an area which liked blood and thunder, strangely enough preferred comedy. in mexico it was found that only thirty-five percent of the overall movie audience would turn out for othello, but one hun- dred percent would storm the theatres for murder, bullfights, and other strong meat. already there was concern over the western's possible influence on the young, in that it often seemed to glamorize outlawry. some advertising posters for a western plugging jesse james ( ) were heavily censured, and a writer, displaying his astonishing racism in print, commented that "an indian will walk miles to see bloodshed,” and that films and advertising which catered to dormant sadism of this type should not be the western encouraged. at almost the same time, an indian named i. lee, a resi- dent of rochester, new york, voiced strong criticism in the trade papers of the continued depiction of indians on the screen as bloodthirsty savages. there was surprisingly little shape and form to the western field prior to the advent of griffith and ince. companies like selig, centaur, edison, essanay, vitagraph, kalem, biograph, lubin, powhatan films (a company that had an enormous indian head as its trademark), bison, world, phoenix, tiger, carson, and others were all turning out westerns on an almost assembly-line basis. from the point of view of film history, this was a fascinating period. the birth, growth, life, and death of these little companies, offer ample material for a whole book devoted to just these few years. from the standpoint of western film history, few distinguishable trends emerge. one that did was the coexistence of two approaches to the indian. the one held the indian to be a senseless, bloodthirsty savage. the other veered to the opposite extreme by depicting the indian with dignity as the original american. neither of these two approaches is surprising or unique in itself; what is notable is that the two contrast- ing cycles should coexist, a state of affairs that has never been repeated since. if anything, the sympathetic approach to the indian was the one that then dominated. many of the films with indian heroes were built around legend and near mysticism, and had a fascinating sort of primi- tive poetry to them. the indian's plight was not seen through rose- colored glasses, the majority of these films were tragedies, in which the indian deliberately went to his death to avoid dishonor, or committed suicide as a gesture of defiance against the unwanted civilization that was being brought by the white man. many of these films were strong meat indeed. the bride of tabaiva was replete with all the neuroses of a postwar film-noir. kalem did an interesting series dealing with the florida seminole indians. vitagraph's red wing's gratitude used authen- tic indians in the principal roles, and titles like the red man's view, an indian wife's devotion, a true indian's heart, tell their own story. films concentrating on the white man's participation in the building of the west included an early adaptation of o. henry's "cisco kid” stories which, in contrast to later filmed adventures, finished with the hanging of the “kid.” others were on the warpath, with a traditional last-minute cavalry rescue; the road agents, an essanay western praised for its “unusual realism in staging”; the skeptical cowboy, a really macabre western from centaur, in which visions of his dead victim and of his own execution drive a killer to pray for forgiveness; the gold pros- porter and anderson pectors, in which an indian chief is killed by a little child; why the mail was late, a lubin western with more visions, in this case of an angel who appears to the dead pony rider; and davy crockett in hearts united. in synopsis form, many of the early westerns we have mentioned in passing were truly inventive. certainly their plots were nothing if not imaginative and often courageously stark. but translating the vivid written word into an equally vivid film was another matter. few of the early pre-griffith and ince westerns are available to us for reappraisal, but of those that are (particularly the films of bison and edison) none have sufficiently competent direction for the basically good plot material. the broncho billy westerns were certainly the liveliest of these, making up in vigor what they lacked in unusual plot elements. it is dangerous to generalize in this - period. but from the surviving westerns, the indication is that they needed both a consistency of purpose and directors who understood the western per se, directors who were also aware of the genre's tremendous scope and potential. that they did not achieve that consistency, and did not begin to fulfill that potential, until the advent of griffith and ince, is definitely not to say that some excellent westerns were not made prior to . un- doubtedly many were, and, some talented and advanced directors may be unknown to us simply because so little of their material is available today. in a sense, much of the pre- , even pre- material does exist, since negatives have been preserved. but the printing is very expensive and one must gamble on items that, from titles and original reviews, seem promising. even then, for every worthwhile discovery, there are three or four films of limited quality and interest. more and more of this material is being recovered, but it is a race against time because it is highly probable that the chemically unstable materials may begin to decompose. but if one cannot avoid uncertainty over the status of westerns which immediately followed the great train robbery, then one can, with une- quivocal certainty, sustain the view that the western was guided into firmer, more creative, and certainly more influential channels when d. w. griffith and t. h. ince brought their considerable talents to bear in the next years. david thomas h. inc d. w. griffith (left) with his cameraman, g. w. bitzer. griffith and – d. w. griffith the pioneer work of edwin s. porter and broncho billy anderson having already es- tablished standard western plots and basic elements of technique, it remained for david w. griffith and thomas h. ince to provide the momentum. when they began their work in the genre, the western film was re- garded as outdated, and variety, in fact, in its reviews of the westerns of the - period, frequently concluded that the films were competently made, but added: “it has all been done so often before, and usually better.” so much has been written about griffith as an innovator of film technique and as the foremost genius of the american screen, that his extremely valuable contribution to the early western in particular is often over- looked. and yet, between and , he turned out some of the finest one-reel west- erns ever made, quite outstanding in their scale, scope and imagination. we saw in the previous chapter how kentucky-born griffith, an actor and a play- wright of seemingly competent but unre- markable ability, had entered the industry as an actor in edison's rescued from an eagle's nest ( ), directed by porter. shortly after- wards, he joined the biograph company in new york as a writer-actor, subsequently directing in his first film, the adventures of dollie, an unsubtle but fast-moving melo- drama which had immediate success. he was greatly encouraged at this time by cam- eraman g. w. “billy” bitzer. ke problem is to manipulate e shoot unstylized reality in such ibay that the result has style.” win panofsky the western for a beginning salary of fifty dollars per week, he turned out at least eight films for biograph every month and, during this period, he was continually experimenting with new forms of film expression and gram- mar, and especially in the possibilities of building tension through edit- ing. while some techniques, like the close-up, had been introduced by others, they were perfected by griffith, who in turn created and devel- oped other aspects of film narration. chief among these was the cross-cutting technique, developed to add tension and maximum excitement to melodramas. although the basic idea of cross-cutting seems elementary today in any kind of dramatic movie construction, its introduction in those days was a daring move. cross-cutting involves the manipulation of time and space. settlers fighting off indians are besieged in a cabin. we see a long shot of the indians circling. a closer shot of the pioneers fighting back. a large close- up, perhaps of a child cowering in fright. then we cut to a troop of cavalry perhaps twenty miles away. they have learned of the situation and are preparing to rescue the threatened settlers. back to the fight. ammunition is low. the settlers can't hold out long. cut to the indians preparing for a final assault. cut to the cavalry racing across the prairie. depending upon the creative ability of the director anc editor, this kind of material can be built and expanded indefinitely; raathematical pat- terns can be introduced. long shot can cut to long shot; close-up to close-up. as suspense builds, the shots can get shorter and shorter. cross-cutting is taken for granted today, but initially it was not. because it “created” excitement instead of just showing it, it was considered (a) dishonest and (b) confusing, just as originally the close-up was regarded with suspicion. a close-up? it's not real! who ever saw a woman's face alone, or a pair of feet? so it was with regard to cross-cutting, or indeed advanced editing of any kind. most early westerns detailed the fight admirably, and left it there. the cavalry arrived in the nick of time (with- out built-up suspense via cutting), and the matter ended there. griffith loved westerns for the sweep and spectacle they offered, and for the opportunities they provided for a development of his editing theories in terms of essentially visual action. he was, of course, busy in other fields-melodrama, social criticism, adaptations of literary classics, and even semi-propagandistic political melodrama—so that westerns occupied an important, but not dominant part of his schedule. his westerns were filmed both in new jersey and in california. until in his biograph period, his studios were located in new york, but from october, , he regularly took a troupe to california to escape the dreary new york winters so unsuitable for the cameras, and to griffith and ince arrange for, in the interest of authenticity, his filming of the bulk of his westerns on the west coast. almost all of the biograph members of griffith's great stock company-lillian and dorothy gish, owen moore, mae marsh, mary pickford, robert harron, harry carey, lionel barrymore, charles west, alfred paget, henry b. walthall, wilfrid lucas, dorothy bernard, blanche sweet-went on to subsequent star- dom. some of the directors who learned their trade under him were erich von stroheim, raoul walsh, chester and sidney franklin, lloyd ingraham, donald crisp, joseph henabery, mack sennett, dell hen- derson, elmer clifton, christy cabanne, john emerson, lowell sherman, george siegmann, jack conway, and many others; of course, many other top directors, from john ford to king vidor, were considerably influenced by griffith's work. griffith was more interested in situations, and his treatment of them, than in plots per se, and it is significant that the more plot his western film had, the less effective it was. for example, broken ways ( ), a biograph two-reeler, concerned a frontier wife with a worthless hus- band, with a suitor in the person of an honest sheriff. the film ran smoothly, with good exterior scenes and generally fine acting. the plot was simple, although the plot details which had to be followed seemed to get in griffith's way. at this particular phase in his career, he was more interested in dynamic style, rather than in dramatic plot material. more successful was the wanderer, with harry carey in the lead, this time in the chaplinesque role of a vagabond who saves the day for two settlers, leaving them to a happy future, unaware that it was he who helped them. the villains, incidentally, were not brought to justice; griffith frequently allowed his “heavies” to escape unpunished, and in many cases even invested them with likable characteristics which en- listed audience sympathy. it was not griffith's policy to allow crime to go unpunished, but when the dramatic needs of his films required de- parture from convention, he had no compunction about letting the villains off, in complete contrast to the ultra-moral films of ince, in which the guilty always paid a heavy price. despite their short running time and the de-emphasis on plots, no two griffith westerns were alike; the goddess of sagebrush gulch was as distinct from a temporary truce as it was from the squaw's love, in striking con- trast to the assembly-line products of the late forties and fifties, when it was difficult to tell one roy rogers or charles starrett western from another. three griffith westerns are especially noteworthy: the last drop of water ( ), fighting blood ( ), and the battle at elderbush gulch the western ( ). the last drop of water ( ), was the precursor of the covered wagon ( ). both had much the same sense of poetry. the covered wagon—which we shall discuss in much greater detail in a later chapter- disposed of its action as soon as that action had served its purpose, without integrating it into the whole. griffith's film appeared in many ways more exciting, because the action was part of a total effect, and that ef- fect was accentuated by cross-cutting, providing far more energy and excitement than anything in james cruze's later film. the last drop of water is interesting also for the fact that it was one of the few griffith westerns in which plot and action assumed equal im- portance. it was colorful stuff, with heroine blanche sweet in love with weak-willed joseph graybill, whose fondness for liquor had escaped her notice. blanche marries graybill, while another suitor (charles west) wishes her well, standing gallantly aside. a year later, struggling along in a marriage made increasingly difficult, blanche and graybill trek westward with a wagon train, joined by west who is on hand to protect the girl he loves. water is low when the indians attack. west, who has volunteered to reach the closest waterhole, does not return. graybill slips through the indian lines into the desert, where he finds west dying. at first, he jeers at the sight of his old rival, and then, overcome by compassion, offers him the last swallow of precious water from his canteen. exhausted, graybill dies, but west, revived by the water, is able to struggle on, to find water, and to return with a supply to the beleaguered wagon train. a detachment of cavalry finally routs the indians in a pitched battle and, leaving the grave of graybill behind as a tribute to the courage of the early pioneers, the wagon train, with sweet and west now united, rolls on towards distant california. a slow, effec- tive fadeout with the grave starkly in the foreground, shows the wagon train slowly disappearing over the distant horizon. richard barthelmess (in a role originally intended for rudolph valentino) and carol dempster in a scene from scarlet days, a grif- fith western of . griffith and ince even better, however, and one of the classics of the pre- cinema, although strangely unrecognized as such, was fighting blood ( ), a triumphant application of treatment over subject matter. the plot is simple: a grizzled, old civil war veteran and his family are settled on the dakota frontier during the uneasy interim between the organization of the dakotas as territories and their admission to the union as states in . father and son quarrel, and the boy leaves. up in the hills, he witnesses a sioux attack against some pioneers. he warns his sweetheart, takes her to his father's cabin, hotly pursued by the indians. he races away for troops, while the settlers come to add strength to the small party fighting against overwhelming odds. the battle between the settlers and the indians, and the hero's ride for help, occupy two-thirds of the film, utilizing an extremely simple, but tremendously exciting-in visual terms—formula which john ford still employs today. griffith increased tension by showing children in danger, cowering in a corner or under a bed, threatened with death either from the enemy or even from their parents, to prevent their capture by the indians. even in the midst of the action, griffith found time to insert strikingly original compositions. one long shot showed the long line of cavalry riding across the screen in the distance. this scene had barely been established when the riders at the head of the column suddenly appeared in close-up on the right side of the screen, suggesting an enormous number of riders were pres- ént between the long column at the back of the screen and the riders now galloping into the foreground. when the cavalry finally entered the battlefield surrounding the log cabin where the settlers were putting up their defense against the indians, griffith gave the rescue dramatic ef- fect by shooting the final battle scenes in massive panoramic shots, photographed from the tops of overlooking hills. two years after fighting blood, he made the battle at elderbush gulch, one of his last, and certainly one of his very best two-reel films for bio- graph. it had major similarities with fighting blood; the plot was equally simple, and merely served as the basis for spectacular scenes. lillian gish and mae marsh played two eastern girls who came to live in the west (their roles here foreshadowed in some ways the roles they were to play in the birth of a nation). mae's dog runs away and is caught by indians who plan to eat it. mae, confronting them, is about to be scalped when the settlers rescue her. the indians then go on the warpath, while robert harron, in the manner of fighting blood, escapes through enemy lines to bring the troops. griffith’s “child in danger" motif was employed here in two-fold fash- ion: a baby, abandoned in the open, is rescued by mae marsh, while indians on the rampage in the cherry valley. panoramic action from griffith's america ( ). children, cowering in a cabin under attack, are threatened with death. the film had more character development than fighting blood, greater and even more creative use of the panoramic shot, and far more savagery in the battle scenes, although griffith was never sadistic, but rather always managed to suggest extreme brutality with astounding conviction. perhaps the only finesse really lacking from fighting blood and the battle at elderbush gulch was the running insert, or riding close-up, a device he was to develop to perfection with the ride of the klansmen in the birth of a nation. it has always been a source of some regret that, apart from two good program films made between and (scarlet days, a griffith personal production and the martyrs of the alamo, a griffith supervised production), griffith never made a full-length western epic. but if he turned his back on the western as such, he never forgot the lessons he learned from his early horse operas, and the development he pioneered and perfected he used with striking success in other genres. in his last big historical epic of the silent era, america ( ), one saw familiar scenes: the american colonists besieged in their little fort by hordes of redskins, neil hamilton racing to the rescue with a band of cavalrymen, individual scenes of children huddled in a corner, riders soon to be seen in a close-up as the leaders complete an off-screen semi- circle to gallop back into the frame. all this can and must be traced back to scenes in fighting blood. griffith and ince thomas h. ince thomas h. ince, like griffith a former actor, arrived in hollywood in , following a year of film-making in new york and cuba. he was employed by the new york motion picture company to concentrate primarily on westerns. he soon became bored with the simply plotted and cheaply budgeted horse operas of the period and finally persuaded his bosses to permit him to make a deal with the entire miller brothers' ranch wild west show, an outfit with a huge entourage of cow- boys, horses, wagons, buffaloes, and other accessories. with this equip- ment, he filmed a two-reel spectacle in entitled war on the plains, which was praised not only for its accuracy from a historical viewpoint, but for its considerable artistry. moving picture world of january , , wrote: “... the impression that it all leaves is that here we have looked upon a presentation of western life that is real and that is true to life, and that we would like to see it again and again so as to observe more of the details." unlike griffith, who was only just beginning to experiment, ince with war on the plains, his subsequent custer's last fight, and the battle of gettysburg was already at the zenith of the purely creative phase of his career; in fact, it was the only personally creative phase, since he there- after assumed the role of production supervisor, individual directors working under him. apart from w. s. hart's pictures, none of ince's post- pictures had the authenticity and conviction enjoyed by such earlier films as war on the plains. ince was first and foremost a showman and a business man. he knew how to organize, and his greatest contri- bution to the history and art of the cinema is represented by the effi- cient shooting methods he developed. he placed great stress on the im- portance of the detailed shooting script, and his strict supervision of scripts, many of which he partially rewrote, injected a measure of “ince influence” into all pictures produced under his organizations. fore- thought in these scripts was astounding, the shooting worked out metic- ulously down to the last detail. reading ince's revised scenario of william clifford's the iconoclast, for example, one is amazed at the de- tailed information prepared in advance: a dialogue for all characters, a full description of the furnishings, the décor, the desired facial expres- i the western sions, the tints to be used, a listing of all different sets, together with the scene numbers identified with each particular set. these time-saving devices are, of course, taken for granted today, but it was ince who recog- nized their value, developing to the full the potential in the script method of filming. while developing the detailed film script, ince was also making the role of the production supervisor essential, a comparatively rare executive position in the early days of motion pictures, a time when most of the men with money remained very much on their side of the fence, leaving to the director the entire business of making, films. in some ways this older system benefited the films produced; today, certainly, the financiers exert a predominant influence over the creative aspects of the cinema, of which they know absolutely nothing. no longer personally directing, and apparently not content with being merely a unique combination of producer and efficiency expert, ince nurtured the impression that he was a creative craftsman, too. a publicity campaign which he created himself was stepped up between and . in this period, ince joined d. w. griffith and mack sennett in the triangle corporation. it was his practice to assume director's credit on any film under his over- all production if he considered the film important in any way. thus civilization, a weak anti-war spectacle, although actually directed by raymond west, was released with ince assuming full directorial title, and west getting an “assisted by ...” credit. this procedure created an aura of greatness around ince which many european critics and historians believed, since they were too far from the scene to ferret out the truth. thus, ironically, some of ince's fame in france is based on his least creative period, often on the basis of inferior films over which he had comparatively little to say, anyway. the westerns of griffith and ince made in the – period dis- play the essential differences between the two men in their approach to the same material. ince was a showman, a routine director, and a mediocre editor. he did not know how to build excitement as griffith did. ince's stories were strong, full of drama and complications; griffith's were really little more than situations. to the casual observer, it might seem that ince's stories had more maturity than did those of griffith. but in his effort to be different, ince went overboard for the morbid. an incredible number of ince's westerns (and civil war stories, too) had unnecessarily tragic endings. past redemption, for instance, presents ann little as an outlaw girl who, together with her father, sells whiskey to indians. a new minister spurs a reform movement in town. prohibi- tion is voted, but the outlaws continue their traffic. a detachment of griffith and ince cavalry engages them in their hideout and ann's father is killed. the girl escapes after having killed an indian, first making sure it would seem the cavalry was responsible. this provokes an all-out battle in which many are slain. the girl then goes to the minister's home seeking revenge. she tries to kill him and is caught. somewhat illogically, she is paroled into the minister's custody. gradually becoming repentant, she falls in love with the minister, but when the townspeople see scandal in this union, she wanders off alone into the desert to die. the tragic ending here, in view of ann little's violent past, seems to be justified, but this hardly applies to the woman ( ), dealing with a successful opera singer who, in order to save her husband suffering from tuberculosis, moves to the dry climate of arizona. she takes part in a gigantic land rush in an effort to make a new home for themselves, but she is injured falling from her horse during the rush. recovered, she goes to work in a saloon where she is molested by drunken cowhands. driven to desperation by the need for money to help her invalid hus- band, she marries a wealthy gambler. some months later, word reaches her that her real husband is dead. that night, when the gambler returns home, he finds the woman dead, a suicide note in her hand, thanking him for all his kindness and begging his forgiveness for the wrong she has done him. plot was given far more prominence than the action, the really spec- tacular land-rush footage employed merely as background incident, not as the film's highlight. then, too, its moral values are somewhat ques- tionable; not only is the gambler presented idealistically, in comparison with the generally drunken reprehensible behavior of the honest cow- hands and miners, but bigamy and suicide are quite casually condoned. ince's civil war films had a similar tendency toward strong meat. one of the best was the drummer of the eighth, which tells the touching story of a boy who runs away from home to join the northern forces. he is captured in battle, learns of plans for a big southern advance, and manages to return to his own lines with the news, although he is seriously wounded. because of his information, the north is able to win a battle. lying in a hospital tent, the youth writes to his mother saying he will be home soon. on the day of his return, a big feast is prepared and the household joyously awaits him. at the railroad depot, the returning soldiers detrain, but the boy's sister cannot find him. then, two soldiers take a simple coffin from the train. the boy is coming home. individually, each of these films was powerful and well made, but collectively, they seem to be too much part of a pattern, geared to an off-beat plot and a shock effect. however, not all of ince's westerns had mo lheel the western tragic endings, nor were all his tragedies contrived. some of his short westerns were exciting in the best sense, although they, too, relied more on dramatic situations than on physical action. one of the best of his "tragedies” was a very moving and beautifully photographed two-reeler, the heart of an indian, a rather strange film which presented both white man and indian in a basically sympathetic light. it opened with scenes of everyday life in an indian village, presided over by j. barney sherry, playing the chief, with the indian actor, william eagleshirt, as his second in command. the chief's daughter is mourning the death of her child. the film cuts then to the life of the pioneers, tilling the soil, hunting buffalo. both races are established as equals in the wresting of a livelihood from the land, and in their rights to such livelihood. then, an indian raid is precipitated when a white shoots “indian” buffalo; from one blazing cabin, the indian chief rescues a baby girl to give to his daughter for adoption. the real mother, distraught, staggers into the indian camp, and tries to claim her baby. the indian girl taunts her, but then, allowing mother and child a temporary embrace, she relents, and in a touching little scene, realizes the universality of motherhood, and, indirectly, of all men. she restores the child to its real mother, escorting them both to safety. but the white men of the settlement, bent on revenge, have taken to the trail and even the sight of the mother and child, both quite safe, does not lessen their hatred. they creep up on the indian camp and cold bloodedly massacre its in- habitants. the final scene of the film is an exquisite silhouette, at dusk on the crest of a hill, of the now doubly bereaved indian girl “commun- casa thomas h. ince with his first indian star, william eagleshirt. ing with the spirit of her dead child,” as she prays for the tiny body wrapped in blankets and placed atop a flimsy wooden framework. a recurring theme in ince's frontier dramas is the symbolic struggle be- tween good and evil made simple by having the heroes allied with the church, and the villains with the saloon. in some cases the entire moti- vation was based on the church's determination to stamp out drinking, and the villains' equally strong determination that it should continue. the implication is inevitably that good can survive only when the temptation to evil (namely, the saloon) is obliterated—not indicative of very pronounced moral stamina on the part of ince's christian pioneers. however, another recurring theme in ince's pictures made it difficult the western to determine just where he stood regarding the church, since one of his favorite characters seemed to be the weak-willed minister seduced by a saloon girl, or the devil-may-care cowboy who stood, to be sure, for law and order, but who was usually given a scene in which he ridiculed either the minister or the church, a sort of “last stand” to show that he owed no more allegiance to god than anyone else! if the westerns of griffith and ince had anything at all in common, it was the complete realism of their background, due, of course, to the locations they used, for the california foothills of then-young hollywood were a living part of the old west, untouched by man or commerce in any way. ince built his studio, "inceville," and his western streets and ranches in an area at the mouth of the santa ynez canyon, having in front of him the pacific ocean and miles of sandy beaches. behind him were miles of picturesque virgin wilderness. its value as a western back- drop has been lost today, since it takes only one hotel or mansion to turn a western mountain into a hollywood hill overlooking the pacific. ince's old stamping ground is still a beautiful area, but hollywood homes have transformed it radically. one other element in the realism of griffith-ince westerns was the dust. a minor thing, perhaps, but a telling one. dust was everywhere in the old west-behind men as they walked down streets, behind horses and coaches, in the air itself, wherever the wind blew. the constant visual presence of dust, whether in clouds kicked up, or in layers on the clothes men wore, was a perpetual reminder of the rugged and uncomfortable conditions under which the west was built and won, almost a symbol in itself of a land to be tamed. because it was there, griffith and ince ignored the dust and let it play its own role in their films. later, west- ern movie makers learned the neat trick of wetting down the ground before the day's shooting, so that the soil was moist and able to absorb the surface dust. westerns soon became less dusty-and less convincing. by , despite ever-stronger plots from ince, and the increasing technical virtuosity of griffith, westerns were losing ground again at the box office. the criticism of tired uniformity that had been flung at them five years earlier, and which was to be reiterated at regular intervals, became particularly sharp. griffith and ince then cut down on their western output, increasing the number of civil war films they brought to the screen. by that time, however, these two men had already made their major contributions, each in his own way, to the western film. ford, cruze, and several others were now to take over and to enlarge upon these beginnings. but, with the sole exception of william s. hart, no others were to contribute more to the western film than had david w. griffith and thomas h. ince. “the truth of the west meant more to me than a job, and always will." w. s. hart, my life east and west william surrey har my life east and west ind realism the man who, single-handed, rescued the western film from the rut of mediocrity into which it had fallen was william s. hart, in a career that spanned slightly more than ten years. as an actor, director, and to a lesser degree as a writer, he brought to the west- ern both realism and a rugged poetry. his films, the motion picture equivalents of the paintings of frederic remington and the drawings of charles m. russell, represent the very heart and core of that which is so casually referred to as hollywood's “west- ern tradition.” although the third important western star, arriving on the film scene after broncho billy anderson and tom mix, and retiring while mix was still in his prime, his contri- butions to westerns were original, and their influence was of greater importance than those of anderson and mix. william s. hart was born december , , in newburgh, new york. the “s” stood, not as is often erroneously stated, for shakespeare, but for surrey. his family, the father being a traveling miller, led a nomadic existence, wandering across the country in search of water for power, eventually settling near a sioux reservation in the dakotas. as a youngster, william played with sioux of his age, learning their language and customs, and a respect for them that he never lost. his experiences in the west were rich and varied. he worked as a trail-herd cowboy in kansas, and once he was caught in the crossfire of a sheriff and two gunmen on sioux city's main street. the death of william's baby brother during the family's dakota residence is movingly described in hart's book, my life east and west. the baby was buried near the headwaters of the mississippi by the father, william, and a younger sister; the descriptive passage of that harsh reality, and the unbearable grief of those days is one of the most poignant passages in the book. his mother's illness took the family back east when william was still only fifteen. he held an assortment of odd jobs, including singing in the trinity church choir, to round out the family's income. participating in athletics, at nineteen he accompanied the famous track star, lon myers, to london, and set a record for the three-and-a-half mile walk. his two ambitions in this period were to become an actor and to go the western background. later in his career, he noted: “the stage idea just came, and always remained, and will be with me when the final curtain is rung down." he had the good fortune to befriend f. f. markey, one of the most accomplished actors and an excellent teacher of the art. daniel e. bandemann, a prominent actor-manager, provided him with his first role on the professional stage, in romeo and juliet, which coinci- dentally opened in his native newburgh. for the next twenty years, hart's stature as an actor rose. he had a fine speaking voice, even as late as , when he spoke the prologue for the reissue of his silent film, tumbleweeds. the role of messala in the original company of ben hur ( ) brought him his first real critical acclaim, but after a number of successful seasons with the show, his career went into a decline. during this period he lived in the hotel harrington, on broadway and forty-fourth street in new york city, and shared his room with another struggling young actor, thomas h. ince. then, things took a turn for the better, with his sudden introduction to western roles and, as cash hawkins in the squaw man, he had instantaneous success, followed by the starring role in the road company of the virginian. his success in these plays, and an event which took place in cleveland, while he was on tour there, determined him on a course that was to suc- ceed far beyond his wildest expectations. in cleveland, hart saw his first western film and, knowing the west well and loving it, he was de- pressed by the picture's gross inaccuracies. “i was an actor, and i knew the west,” he wrote later. “the opportunity that i had been waiting for years to come was knocking at my door ... rise or fall, sink or swim, i had to bend every endeavour to get a chance to make western pictures." for the remainder of the season, he saw as many westerns as he could, william s. hart in the primal lure ( ). studying and committing them to memory. later, upon reaching cali- fornia, on tour with the trail of the lonesome pine, he learned that his old friend, tom ince, was in charge of the new york motion picture company studios. when he told ince he wanted western parts, ince was apathetic, pointing out that every film company was making them, and that even the best films were having a difficult time. he agreed, however, to give hart a chance, and as soon as he finished his theater tour, hart returned to california. it was now the summer of . ince's studios were located at the mouth of the santa ynez canyon, and consisted of several open-air stages, sets of western towns, a ranch, a fishing village, and similar buildings. the films were released through mutual, headed by roy and harry aitken, and john freuler. the aitkens were the first financiers to interest new york bankers in motion picture investments; using reliance as their key production company, they sold stock to influential buyers, and helped finance the new york motion picture company, with studios in hollywood. ince had been in charge since september, , of the eighteen-thousand-acre location called “inceville," while mack sennett was located in studios at alessandro street. in late , david w. griffith joined the outfit. profits were considerable for the expanding new york motion picture company; two films were turned out every day, and griffith, ince and sennett-representing the three top film makers and money makers- were installed, if not in the same studio, at least under the collec- tive roof of one busy concern. the western it was to this optimistic, energetic, and expanding organization that william s. hart came. his first two film appearances were in two-reelers that starred, and were directed by, tom chatterton. hart was the villain in both, but he felt very much disappointed and expressed his thoughts to ince, who then put him into two feature films. the first was the bargain, a five-reel western written by hart himself in collaboration with c. gardner sullivan, a fine screen writer and later a top production executive. reginald barker directed hart in this seven-reel western; no sooner was the shooting completed on august , , than ince rushed hart into another western, on the night stage (later known also as the bandit and the preacher). again directed by barker, written by sullivan, and photographed by robert s. newhard, it was strong, powerful stuff, the sort of material that could be considered a blueprint for the hart films still to come. as “texas” the badman, he opposed “the sky pilot" (robert edeson), until reformed by heroine rhea mitchell. hart was pleased with these works, but it seemed unlikely that they would create much of a stir. with four westerns under his belt, he as- sumed demand for his services was over, and parted company with ince, returning to new york. then something unexpected took place. the bargain proved to be such a hit that it was decided not to release it through mutual, where its full potential might not be realized; famous players were very much im- pressed, and bought the film for distribution. ince, recognizing now that he had a star in hart, decided not to release on the night stage either, but to hold it until famous players, with the bargain, had made hart's name known nation-wide. ince sent for hart immediately and offered him a contract as a director-actor at $ a week. unaware of what was going on behind the scenes, or of the anticipated success of his two unreleased pictures, hart accepted with alacrity. his salary was actually extremely low compared with the fees paid others working for ince-usually only in one capacity -and had hart known this, he could have secured a much better ar- rangement. this was the first of a series of events which strained the re- lationship between hart and ince. from the very beginning, hart directed all his own films, and only very occasionally did another director—cliff smith or charles swickard -work on his pictures. even then, the director credit was largely nominal, for hart's films were made the way he wanted them to be made. although there was no secret made at the time of the fact that hart was directing as well as acting, the fact seems to have become obscured over the years. ince's high-pressure publicity created the impression that he hart and realism was the creative mind behind the hart films, but the facts are quite to the contrary. not only did ince never direct hart in a single foot of film, but after the first few productions he had little to do even with their supervision, despite the large screen credit he took on each film. ince does rate some credit though for having recognized in hart the potential artist he was, for having allowed hart to make his own films without interference. and hart acquired a great deal of basic technique from a study of the earlier ince films. thus, in the face of hart's rapidly spiraling success, and revenues, ince's attitude was as shrewd at it was considerate. hart's first film as a director-star was the passing of two gun hicks; still learning the trade as a director, he limited himself to two-reelers, but from the very start he revealed himself as a man who thoroughly understood the film medium, despite years of a stage background. the scourge of the desert followed, and then mr. “silent” haskins. stressing physical action predominantly, the former was an interesting little film in which a western gambler appoints himself protector of the helpless heroine, newly arrived from the east, finally marrying her. there was some particularly fine camera work of bawdy saloon life, and some good individual compositions. one shot became something of a hart trade- mark: a slow pan from the villain's face, in full close-up, across to hart's grim and defiant face, also in close-up. in this instance, the pan continued past hart's face to take in a rifle hanging on the wall, panning down to the anxious face of the heroine, desperately afraid, but trusting in hart to protect her. the symbolism of the scene was obvious, simple, and doubly effective because of it. the sheriff's streak of yellow, which followed, was a film in the high noon mold, but without any kind of feminine interest or any sentimen- tality. hart made this fine two-reeler for only $ , . , including his own salary. that he knew his way now was seen in the taking of luke mcvane (also, the fugitive). enid markey was his leading lady, and cliff smith co-directed while also playing a featured part. this film marked the real beginning of hart's sentimentality, and it was also one of his few films which ended unhappily. for some reason the erroneous impression was created over the years that hart's films were usually semi-tragedies, that he either died at the end, or rode away into the desert, leaving behind the girl he loved. quite the opposite is true. despite a life of outlawry, hart's hero usually came to a happy, not a “sticky” end. in the taking of luke mcvane hart played a gambler who falls in love with a saloon dancer after protecting her from the unwanted advances of drunken mexicans. in gratitude, she presents him with a rose. forced to shoot a man in self-defense in a card-game brawl, hart flees, pursued by the sheriff. they shoot it out in the desert, and hart wounds the sheriff. genuinely remorseful of his life of crime, he cares for the sheriff in his cabin. then, knowing that it means the end of his own freedom, he decides to take the sheriff back to town for medical care. but on the ride back across the desert, the two men are attacked by indians. a fierce battle ensues. the next morning, the sheriff's posse finds both men dead—hart smiling, with the dancer's rose in his hand. the sentimental streak in hart's films was manifested in many different ways: the reformation of the badman by the love of the heroine, or the admiration of a child (used in the mid-forties by wal- lace beery in bad bascomb); the cowboy's love for his horse; and, in many cases, a cowboy's devoted affection for his sister. (this last bit of senti- mentality was pure hart. he was deeply attached to his sister, mary, and quite obviously, in giving his movie character a sister to be cherished and protected, he was reflecting his own feelings on the screen.) on may , , hart's first feature as a director was released: the darkening trail. in the ruse, his next, he played “bat” peters, with much of the action taking place in the city. hart has been lured there by the villians; suspecting that the heroine was unfaithful to him, he settles things in a mighty hand-to-hand battle with the villain. then, assured of the heroine's affections, he takes her back west. hart was very fond of the plot of the westerner coming east, overcoming the smooth chicanery of city crooks by using common sense and western brawn, and then re- turning home. the subtitle, “i'm goin' back to the country where i belong” was repeated verbatim, or with little variation, in all the hart films with plots on this order. next came two more two-reelers, cash parrish's pal and the conversion of frosty blake. when triangle took over the new york motion picture company, the conversion of frosty blake was re-edited and made into a five-reeler. hart did not appear until the third reel in the new version, and gilbert hamilton, incredibly, received credit as the director. to further add to the confusion, the new five-reeler was re-edited once more to two reels, with a fresh title, the gentleman from blue gulch. thus this one film circulated in several different versions, with several different titles! almost all of hart's films were later reissued in this fashion. with these strong, little westerns, hart reached tremendous heights of popularity. having made twenty westerns, he had only a few more two-reelers to make before he switched to features permanently. the last of hart's two-reelers were grit and keno bates, liar. the latter, written by ince and j. g. hawks, and photographed by joseph august, was another fine western, although a further demon- stration of hart's growing tendency to sentimentalize. its story was very similar to that of the taking of luke mcvane, complete even to the flower motif. however, the climax of keno bates, liar sees the heroine emptying a gun into the reformed gambler, unaware that he is the man who saved her. logic would dictate that the hero will now die—and there are indications that possibly such an ending was originally planned. but the closing scenes find the gambler miraculously recovered, reunited with the girl who now realizes his true worth. a new phase in hart's career soon began, for there had been dissension hart and realism william s. hart in the tiger man ( ). the western at mutual for some time. harry aitken had invested considerable amounts of mutual's money into the financing of d. w. griffith's the birth of a nation, and the freuler group had disagreed. the american film company, also involved, was annoyed because aitken considered certain of their pictures to be inferior, refusing to sell them as “mutual masterpieces.” the crisis exploded with the removal of aitken as presi- dent of mutual, by freuler. following meetings with the financiers in new york, harry aitken called griffith, ince, and sennett to a conference in la junta, colorado, where plans for a new company were formulated. thus, triangle pic- tures was born, represented by griffith, ince, and sennett, with aitken as president. triangle was ambitious, and in order to finance their better- quality pictures, they needed increased revenue. this was to be partially achieved by the opening of triangle's own theaters in key cities, with an advance over prices from the then prevailing fifteen cents to twenty- five cents. in new york, the knickerbocker theatre was leased and refurbished, with a special carriage entrance to cater to the elite. the plan was to present four triangle films each week, one each from griffith and ince, and two from sennett. the theater opened on september , , with prices ranging as high as two and three dollars for loge seats. it was a gala opening, with showmen samuel rothapfel (roxy) in charge of the whole affair, and hugo riesenfeld directing the orchestra: paderewski, william randolph hearst, james montgomery flagg, rupert hughes, and many other notables were there to witness the first program, which consisted of the lamb (griffith) with douglas fairbanks and seena owen, the iron strain (ince) with enid markey and dustin farnum, and my valet (sennett) with mabel normand. hart’s the disciple was the second triangle feature to play the theater, and the film was his most elaborate vehicle to date. a five-reeler, it cost eight thousand dollars. dorothy dalton, the leading lady, was paid forty dollars per week, and assistant director cliff smith got thirty dollars. seventy-five dollars was paid for the story; robert mckim, the villain, received twenty-five dollars per week, and extras earned five dollars a week and board. their foreman received ten dollars. hart, as star and director, was still earning only one hundred and twenty-five dollars a week. hell's hinges considering the number of films hart made, and the regularity with which he turned them out, he sustained a remarkably high standard on his triangle releases. none of them had the assembly-line stamp, all were competent, and some were outstanding. hell's hinges ( ) was not only one of his very best subjects, but remains one of the classic westerns. sullivan, smith, and august were again associated with hart; louise glaum was the vamp, clara williams the heroine, alfred hol- lingsworth the villain, jack standing a weak-willed minister, and robert kortman one of the villain's henchmen. hell's hinges was also john gilbert's first film—he featured prominently in crowd scenes—and jean hersholt, too, could be seen in several crowd scenes. the story of hell's hinges is an example of c. gardner sullivan's really strong screenplays. in later years, hell's hinges would have been classified as a "psychologi- cal” western; in , all the red meat was there, free of any murky undertones. the film gets under way in the east, where the recently ordained reverend robert henley is preaching a sermon in a slum mission. the initial subtitles in themselves set the stage so neatly that we can do no better than repeat them verbatim: hart and realism (to introduce the minister): the victim of a great mistake. a weak and selfish youth, utterly unfit for the calling that a love-blinded mother has persuaded him to follow. then: his mother: radiantly happy in the realization of her life's dream, and blissfully unconscious of the injustice she has done her son and the church. back to the minister again: untouched by the holy word he is conveying, but taking an actor's delight in swaying his audience. the minister's superiors sense that he is too weak to combat the temp- tations of city life. they present him with a solution: an opportunity to take charge of the establishment of a church in the west. with a superimposed flash-forward, henley's imagination sees his new parish as a glamorous one filled with romantic señoritas in need of his spiritual guidance. excited at the prospect, he agrees, and his sister faith decides to accompany him. three weeks later, their stagecoach approached hell's hinges. then, some fast-moving scenes, and some vividly written subtitles, each in the atmosphere of the town itself. first the subtitle: the reality. the town known on the government surveyor's maps as placer centre, but throughout the length and breadth of the sun-baked territory as just plain hell's hinges, and a good place to "ride wide of.” hell's hinges just plain hell's hinges, and a good place to "ride wide of.” silk miller: mingling the oily craftiness of a mexican with the deadly treachery of a rattler, no man's open enemy, and not man's friend. va the pitifully uneven struggle, when the face of god seemed turned away. not until the place is an inferno of flames does he relax and allows his captives to make their escape. ** * systematically she breaks him down, and ultimately seduces him on the evening of the opening of the new church. besides himself with rage, tracey manhandles dolly and throws her to the floor. hell's crown. blaze tracey finds faith, and the body of her brother. quick, dramatic shots of crowds watching a vicious gun duel in the dusty main street are followed by a further subtitle: a gun-fighting, man-killing, devil's den of iniquity that scorched even the sun-parched soil on which it stood. the villain (alfred hollingsworth) is introduced with the subtitle: silk miller: mingling the oily craftiness of a mexican with the deadly treachery of a rattler, no man's open enemy, and no man's friend. the western one of miller's henchmen tells him that the minister sent for by the “petticoat brigade” is due at any moment. “the petticoat brigade,” of course, is the town's decent element-referred to by a subtitle as: the scant handful of respectable people in a sin-ridden town ... a drop of water in a barrel of rum. miller has engaged blaze tracey (hart) to run the minister out of town—or worse. hart's introductory subtitle is typical: blaze tracey. the embodiment of the best and worst of the early west. a man-killer whose philosophy of life is summed up in the creed shoot first and do your disputin' afterwards. but when the stage arrives, tracey pushes his way through the mock- ing crowd to send the minister on his way; he is stopped short by the sight of the girl. as she smiles at him, a subtitle relates: a different kind of smile, sweet, honest and trustful, and seeming to say “how do you do, friend?” hart stops, unable to carry through the course of action he had planned, while a follow-up subtitle explains: - one who is evil. looking for the first time on that which is good. hart's sudden changes of heart when confronted with the heroine for the first time gave full reign to his sentimental streak, and were always played in the same way, with a maximum of close-up work on hart's face, suffering pangs of remorse and self-doubt. individually, they were often tremendously effective, but collectively their effect is weakened, because they constitute the only real cliché in all the hart films. in hell's hinges, the sequence is not even particularly legitimate, for audiences knew the hart character too well to believe him to be evil, while the heroine (clara williams) was so excessively homely and unattractive that it is difficult to believe that she could have instilled such feelings in any man, and certainly not on first acquaintance. moved, confused, tracey leaves the minister and his sister to the ribald mocking of the mob, and takes no stand either for or against them. the next sunday, henley and his sister hold their first service. in the saloon, dolly (louise glaum), miller's mistress, and the town's lawless element decide to stop religion in hell's hinges before it gets started. in a group, they invade the barn, upset the service, and by carousing, shooting, and cursing, attempt to terrify the worshippers into retreating. determined to enjoy the fun, tracey heads for the barn himself. in- side, the weak minister has given up in despair; but faith has taken a stand, and is singing a hymn, oblivious to the drunken cowboys, hoping to shame them into silence. a close-up of tracey dissolves into a close- up of faith, which in turn dissolves into a shot of a crucifix rising out of the water along a seashore. then, a subtitle: hart and realism the eternal, unconquerable white flame that shone over the blood-drenched roman arena, and above the racks of the inquisition. tracey bursts into the barn just as one of the drunken cowboys attempts to dance with faith. knocking him to the ground, tracey draws both guns and, crouched low behind them (a typical hart pose) defies the mob, telling them: i'm announcin' here and now that there ain't goin' to be no more pickin' on the parson's herd so long as they mind their own business. as the turmoil subsides, tracey sits down to hear the finish of the minister's sermon. but he is unmoved, sensing the insincerity of this man of god. faith, however, speaks so fervently that tracey is completely convinced. the subtitle in which he tells her of his conversion reads: i reckon god ain't wantin' me much, ma'am, but when i look at you i feel i've been ridin' the wrong trail. tracey openly switches his allegiance to the cause of the church, at the same time developing a strong romantic interest in faith. at this point, hart injects an interesting note of realism when tracey reads the bible for the first time; he is moved and impressed by what he reads, but the old ways are by no means behind him! he smokes as he reads, and a bottle of whiskey stands on the table next to the bible. realizing that he has failed to scare the minister out of town, silk miller tries other tactics. playing on henley's weak will, he sends dolly to him. systematically she breaks him down, and ultimately seduces him on the evening of the opening of the new church. the next morning, miller's followers ridicule the churchgoers as they vainly wait for their minister to join them, shouting that he is down in silk's saloon. tracey leads the way into the saloon, and finds both dolly and henley, dead drunk, lying together on dolly's bed. beside himself with rage, tracey manhandles dolly and throws her to the floor; miller is jubilant: the western he's like all the rest of 'em, blaze-a low-down hypocrite and liar. there ain't no such thing as real religion. but tracey's new-found faith is unshakable: when women like her say there's a god, there is one, and he sure must be worth trailin' with! tracey takes the disgraced minister home, leaving hell's hinges still in the hands of silk miller. three reels have been devoted to this development. there has been little physical action in the accustomed western sense, but the suspense has been building up steadily to an inevitable explosion. dramatically, the film has presented an unusual and effective juxtaposition: tracey's conversion running parallel with the moral decay of the minister. hav- ing set his stage, hart is now ready for his cataclysmic finale, in which evil and decadence are wiped away, only the good to survive. the next morning, tracey rides to the nearest town to find a doctor for the drunken and delirious minister who, in the meantime, fights his way out of his sister's care to join the cowhands in miller's saloon, with the decent citizens looking on sorrowfully. suddenly, one of the cow- hands shouts: to hell with the church! let's burn her down! the minister gleefully agrees to be the first to put the torch to his church, while outside "the petticoat brigade” waits with grim determination: boys, the lord's dependin' on us to stand by him. before they burn down that church, they've got to fight. then, in superbly organized and directed mob scenes, the saloon gang marches on the church. there is a short, vicious battle outside, but the church's defenders are too few. they are routed and the church set aflame, but the minister is shot and killed in the battle. as the townsmen retreat, a subtitle notes: hart and realism the pitifully uneven struggle, when the face of god seemed turned away. in great, high-angle panoramic shots, the burning church, standing far apart from the rest of the town, the retreating townspeople, and the drunken roistering of their persecutors, are vividly and dramatically filmed. on a full close-up of the burning church, a subtitle is injected: standing like a martyr of old, with the symbol of its faith proudly uplifted to the crimsoning sky. then the shot is completed—a slow pan up the burning church and steeple, to the flaming cross silhouetted against the sky. in stark, dramatic shots, the townspeople flee into the desert. the tempo increases. a shot of tracey, riding back to town, is intercut with shots of the refugees, and scenes of the wild celebrations in town. he meets the first of the fleeing townspeople, hears their story, leaps into the saddle, gallops hell-for-leather into the town, falls down a steep in- cline, remounts, and is off again. by the side of the still-burning but now nearly collapsed church (all of the fire scenes were printed on red stock, to tremendously dramatic effect), blaze tracey finds faith, and the body of her brother. convulsed with rage, he decides to clean up hell's hinges once and for all, and strides into town. miller's men line up inside the saloon, determined to shoot tracey down the moment he appears. but tracey outsmarts them, kicks open the swinging doors, shoots miller before he can make a move, and holds the rest at bay, allowing only the terrified saloon girls to escape. tracey tells the cowering men: hell needs this town, and it's goin' back, and goin' damn quick! he begins to shoot down the oil lamps; within a matter of moments the wooden saloon is afire. not until the place is an inferno of flames does he relax and allows his captives to make their escape. soon all of hell's hinges is flame and, like the sodom of old, it is completely obliterated. on the subtitle: hell's crown. and its subsequent shot of the raging inferno at its peak, the scene fades out, and into another subtitle: the western and then from the mothering sky came the baby dawn, sing- ing as it wreathed the gray horns of the mountains with rib- bons of rose and gold. faith is prostrate with grief; tracey attempts to lead her away from her brother's grave, but she throws herself upon it. he returns to the now more composed girl, and together they walk to the mountains: whatever the future, theirs to share together . .. hell's hinges was, understandably, a tremendous success, but already there were signs that the rigidity of hart's screen character was being noticed by the critics. after praising the film, and referring to "the genius of direction,” the moving picture world of february , , goes on to criticize hart: good enough actor not to require a perpetual repetition of the western badman reformed through the sweet and humanizing influence of a pure-minded girl, hart should try himself out in some other role ... [he] fails to win with a large percentage of the modern audience. hart is a fine type, and capable of picturing imperfect man as he really is, and long has been, a composite being, 'the riddle of the world.' hart, of course, took no notice of the easterners who were trying to tell him how to make his westerns. ten years later, those same criticisms leveled at tumbleweeds on which he had again refused to compromise, finally put him out of business. but what a grand old actor and film- maker he had been—with years of the most personal and vigorous films any one man ever made, to his credit! hart and realism to regard hell's hinges as merely a western is a mistake, for it more resembles the atonement of gosta berling than it does riders of the purple sage. it was one of hart's best films, and in its way a prototype, but at the same time it had excesses that were not quite so evident in his later films. the religious angle was never again so pronounced; hart fre- quently cast himself as a near-evangelistic westerner, but his motives arose more from codes of honor and behavior than from religious roots. and the subtitles of hell's hinges, wonderful examples of the colorful language of the silent screen, a language that understandably seems un- duly flowery to those with only a casual knowledge of the silent film, were unusually flamboyant for hart, who frequently let himself go in injecting western vernacular into dialogue subtitles, but who was not normally prone to lengthy and poetic descriptive titles. hart has many times been accused of being too sentimental a director, and at times he undoubtedly was, but it is astounding that his tremendous talent as a director has gone unrecognized for so long. he is regarded as a "personality,” along with fairbanks, valentino, and pickford, and almost never as a creative craftsman in his own right. hell's hinges is living proof of what an accomplished director he was. the camera placement, the simple yet effective symbolism, and the flair for spectacle, plus the real “feel” for the dusty, unglamorized west, should have earned hart a reputation as one of the great directors. the staging of the burn- ing of the town is beautifully done, the sheer spectacle never eclipsing the odd moment of individual action, such as when hart, holstering his guns, walks out of the inferno, apparently oblivious to it all, a sudden burst of flame creating a halo-like effect behind his head seeming almost to identify him as an agent of divine vengeance. and giving hart credit for the magnificent staging of this sequence in no way detracts from the credit due to cameraman joseph august, who achieved some superb ef- fects of maddened cowboys racing through the flames, almost like vague demons tortured in some primitive hell. it should not be forgotten that hell's hinges was a production. griffith was the giant among directors then, with no immediate rivals; demille, in any case only a commercial and not an aesthetic rival, was just beginning; herbert brenon, chester and sidney franklin, maurice tourneur, and a handful of others were of more importance but certainly hart's ability, if more restricted, was quite comparable to theirs. un- doubtedly, hart's enormous popularity as an actor (his films had to stand up to competition from doug fairbanks, mary pickford, and charlie chaplin) tended to make people overlook his directorial ability. hart's peak and decline another classic followed soon after, a film that hart himself regarded as the best he had ever made— the aryan. one of its major assets was the lovely and sensitive performance of bessie love, who had been recom- mended to hart by griffith. she was particularly suited to hart's re- quirements in heroines, and it is surprising that he did not use her to a much greater extent. triangle’s original synopsis for the aryan—described as “the story of a white human heart turned black”—bears repeat- ing in its original vernacular: the western the hard cruel face of a man who has learned to hate, looks into the trusting countenance of a girl whose whole life has known nothing but love and trust. the man has sworn vengeance on the whole white race, and especially its women, be- cause of a vile deed that one woman had done-a deed that has left its black im- press on his very soul. the trust of the child, her confidence that he will help her and the other white people who have besought him for food and shelter, at first makes no appeal to the man who hates. she shall be one more victim of his vengeance, her companions shall suffer with her. he glowers at her, and sneers at her pleas. still the great dark eyes follow him about, with no indication of fear or doubt. he has told her that he will show no mercy to her or to the white women of her party. very well—she will not believe him. he is a white man, she can see that, although he lives among half-breeds and indians, and she knows he will run true to the creed of his race—to protect its women. he does. he bursts the shackles of hatred and revenge which have held his spirit in bondage, and justifies the girl's absolute confidence in him. the aryan took exactly one month to shoot, during which time , feet of negative were used, of which less than , feet of film were used for release. hart was improving as a director with each film, and put- ting more time, effort, and money into them. the aryan cost $ , . , with hart earning $ , . for the month's work. but in proportion to the money his films were earning for ince, hart's own salary increases were ridiculously small; tension and ill will were gradually increasing between the two men, and hart's suspicions that ince was unfairly ex- ploiting him was one of the contributing factors. in late , hart left triangle, after having made several films: truthful tulliver, the gun fighter, the square deal man, the desert man (his first association with lambert hillyer, who wrote the screenplay, and who later directed of the hart pictures for paramount), wolf lowry, and the cold deck. triangle was in sore financial difficulties, due to the flop of a number hart and realism of expensive features with big theatrical names. triangle's publicity was poor, and there was little real showmanship behind the company. fair- banks and hart were terrific box-office draws, but comparatively little effort was made to exploit them, with all the publicity directed at stage imports like billie burke and de wolf hopper. the company planned a complicated financial merger with famous players, later paramount, controlled by adolph zukor. ultimately, the merger fell through, but in the process zukor took over griffith, sennett, ince, fairbanks, hart, writers emerson and loos, and a number of other top personalities. triangle vainly tried, for four years, to overcome this staggering loss and get back on its feet. even without the zukor intervention, hart would most probably have left triangle in time, since his relations with ince had become extremely strained, on the personal as well as the financial side. it is characteristic of hart that he could endure unfair pay, knowing that ince was making a fortune from him, but he could not tolerate ince's curious dislike of hart's pony, fritz. hart refused to let ince use fritz in any more films, and he promptly put the pony out to pasture. fritz "himself” announced his resignation from the screen with ads in the trade papers, giving obviously phoney reasons for “his” decision. exhibitors saw through the ad-as hart had doubtless intended that they should. nevertheless, despite his increasing dislike of ince, hart was a man of principle. he had a contract with ince, and although it could doubt- less have been broken in some way, he decided to honor it. thus, ince was able to make his deal with zukor in the newly formed artcraft productions. it was after hart had severed his connections with triangle, that all of his old films began to appear with different titles, often in totally dif- ferent versions. a dummy company named w. h. productions was formed to release them (and old sennett comedies, too). the practice didn't hurt hart's new films nearly as much as triangle had hoped it would, but hart, furious, obtained from the federal trade commission a ruling that when a film was released under a new title, its original title would have to be displayed along with it. that ruling still exists today, although it is often violated. hart's first film, the narrow trail, for artcraft was a promising start. hart had his familiar crew with him, joe august photographing, and now lambert hillyer directing. it was not only one of hart's best films, but also a sort of synthesis of all that he had expressed before: sentiment, reformation, action, a love for his horse. the climactic race contained some of the best riding shots of hart ever taken, and included several running inserts of hart-a technique he seemed not to favor, for they were rarely used in his pictures, and then usually only for shots of stagecoaches (as in wild bill hickok) and not individual riders. although the narrow trail was the first film hart made for artcraft, it was actually the second to be released, coming out in january of ; william s. hart in wild bill hickok ( ). prior to it, the silent man had been released in late . original ex- cerpts of the silent man appeared in warner's film, one foot in heaven. fredric march, playing a methodist minister, goes to a movie theatre for the first time, determined to know the “evil” at first-hand so that he can denounce it. instead, he is quite converted to films by the moral and christian lesson in the silent man. it was a charming sequence in a touching, usually under-rated film. despite his higher budgets and the prestige of an artcraft release, hart hart and realism want showed no signs of slowing down, or concentrating on fewer, but bigger, pictures. wolves of the rail was released in january, , and blue blazes rawden (with jack hoxie, later a top western star, in a supporting role) followed one month later. with the tiger man and selfish yates, there came the first signs, not of a decline, but of a mild stagnation. the pace was beginning to slow, and the repetition of incidents and characters was becoming more obvious. some of hart's best films were still ahead of him, but the uninterrupted flow of one top western after another was over. although selfish yates featured some interesting episodes, it was prob- ably his slowest, and most routine, subject to date. shark monroe was a good deal better, and somewhat off-beat. a melodrama in the style of the spoilers, it was largely set in alaska, and contained a sequence of which hart was presumably rather fond, since he duplicated it more than once. bursting in on the heroine's wedding to another man, he forces the minister to marry the girl to him instead, and then forcibly abducts her. such ungentlemanly conduct was rare in a hart film, and when it occurred, there was a great deal of account-settling to be done before the hero finally considered himself worthy of the girl whose love he had taken rather than won! katherine macdonald, apparently the one woman that hart really loved, was his leading lady in riddle gawne, a good action film that of- fered a solid role to lon chaney. hart's emotional makeup generally convinced him that he was in love with most of his leading ladies. he proposed to katherine macdonald a dozen times—without success. there was a brief engagement to anna q. nilsson, and one to eva novak. jane, eva's sister, refused him. he married only once, his bride being winifred westover, his leading lady in john petticoats. winifred was twenty years younger than hart, and although it was she who pursued him in the days of their courtship, it was also she who ended the mar- riage. she was granted a divorce on february , , less than six years after their marriage. in the interim, a son, william s. hart, jr., had been born, in . then, in as a complete an about-face from anything he had done be- fore, or anything he was to do afterwards, hart made branding broadway, with seena owen as his leading lady. it was a delightful film, one of hart's most enjoyable, but completely in the light-hearted vein of douglas fairbanks, in particular, and, to a lesser degree, tom mix. playing a westerner brought to new york by a millionaire to watch over his wayward playboy son, he disported himself with distinction in a dress suit, and made the most of his ample comic opportunities. for once, the western action was introduced for its own sake, the pace was sprightly, and there was little or no sentimentality. the fights were staged with tremendous gusto, and in a hilarious climax hart on horseback pursued the villain through the streets of new york and finally captured him with a lasso in the wilds of central park. branding broadway stands up remarkably well today, quite as well, certainly, as douglas fairbanks' very similar manhattan madness. hart seems to have enjoyed himself immensely in the lead, but he probably regarded the film as casually as would a great painter his doodles. at any rate, he never again made such a carefree film. not the least of branding broadway's many merits was the shooting of the film in manhattan; the chase through the streets in the climax was, of course, doubly effective due to the use of authentic locales. hart was a stickler for using authentic backgrounds when plots called for them. one of the best remembered of all images of william s. hart occurs in the narrow trail; in full western regalia, with stetson and deadly looking guns, he strides confidently and casually down one of san francisco's most exclusive residential boulevards. hart returned to serious business with breed of men (filmed on location in chicago, with many scenes shot in the stockyards), and square deal sanderson. the latter was a good, straightforward action picture of the old school, with hart playing a cowboy who saves a girl's ranch by pos- ing as her brother. square deal sanderson had a strong climax in which the heroine, about to be assaulted by the villain, is saved by hart who throws a lasso over the transom window, and literally hangs the villain he cannot see. jane novak and villain robert mckim were back with hart in his next film, wagon tracks, a spectacular, though still only five-reel, west- ern of a covered wagon trek. it was the success of this film that decided paramount to make the covered wagon, although it was to be another four years before the plan was realized. then came two disappointing films, john petticoats and sand. the first was made on location in new orleans, with hart cast in a typical role as “hardwood” john haynes, a rough and ready frontiersman suddenly thrust into society life. the plot was heavy, complicated by a suicide, psychological motivations, and other factors at which hart was never at his best. sand got back to the essentials of plot, but not to the vigor of pacing and direction. it marked the return to the screen of fritz, the pony, and was president woodrow wilson's favorite hart film. but the film was not nearly up to the standards set in the aryan or hell's hinges, mainly because the story was needlessly protracted. disappointing as sand was, hart's next film proved that it was still william s. hart and anna q. nilsson with richard headrick in the toll gate ( ). far too early to say that a definite decline was in progress. the toll gate ranks as one of his four or five best pictures, and was also his biggest money maker. in this film there can be no doubt that hart gave the best that he had, for he was now free of ince entirely, having formed his own company. the toll gate, then, was the first film made under the new arrange- ment. it reverted to the basic essentials of the hart formula, and yet there was a surprising restraint in the sentimental passages which added poignancy, absent from many of his other films. hart was again the out- law, “black” deering, and again he was reformed by a good woman, mary brown (anna q. nilsson), and her son, “the little fellow" (richard headrick). the film had more suspense and dramatic values than usual, and the outcome was genuinely in doubt until the last moment. sincerely in love with the heroine, and she with him, hart was pitted against her worthless husband, who had deserted her. the two men finally confront each other, and following a vicious fight on the edge of a cliff, hart literally throws the man to his death. having earned the respect and admiration of the sheriff's men by deliberately casting away the western his freedom at one point in defense of the heroine), he is offered an amnesty. the heroine pleads with him to marry her, for her sake, and that of her son. but hart, feeling unworthy of her, and knowing that, even though justified, he killed her husband, rejects his one chance for happiness, and returns to the lonely life of the outlaw, even though he knows that he cannot expect to survive for more than a year or two. it was a moving and exciting film, and an auspicious start for the wil- liam s. hart company. one of hart's occasional non-westerns followed; the cradle of courage. but even away from the range, the hart code held: he played an ex- crook who returns from the war and, finding that he now cannot return to a life of banditry, becomes a policeman. episode followed episode in which his strength and honor were tested. the testing block, a six-reeler released in december, , based on one of hart's ideas, was one of the most interesting of his later pictures. hart played the leader of a motley crew of outlaws“... collected by the broom that swept hell ...” hart's films now were becoming larger in scale, and there were fewer of them. he followed 's the testing block with o'malley of the mounted in . it was a run-of-the-mill hart film, rather carelessly made in general, with some poorly edited action sequences. the climax departed interestingly from hart’s formula in that hart, becoming convinced of the innocence of the man he has been set out to trap-and respecting the outlaws he has now come to regard as friends—refuses to complete his mission, resigning to return as an ordinary ranger to claim the hand of eva novak. in he made another non-western, the whistle. then white oak followed in which hart once again used the sister- motif. hart played a river gambler, out to revenge himself on the man who had seduced his sister, indirectly causing her death. (attempting to commit suicide by drowning herself, she was rescued, only to die of pneumonia.) it was powerful and beautifully photographed, but again- and this was particularly harmful at seven reels-slow-moving and overly sentimental. better, but still short of its full potential, was three word band, an unusual film, in which hart played three different roles, the hero's role, that of his father, and that of his brother. the hero's role was a title role deriving from the character's clipped speech in three- word sentences (“get out, quick!” or “go to hell!”). the part was colorful and hart had many opportunities to differentiate the three characters, one of which was the stoic governor of the state. he played each part to the hilt, and he was aided by some first-class camera work. the film as a whole was a trifle confusing; it inclined to an excess of hart and realism dialogue subtitles, but otherwise it finds a place among hart's more in- teresting works. travelin' on ( ) was perhaps the last of what one may term "vintage” hart films: already there were unmistakable signs that hart's reign was almost over, and that public opinion had shifted in favor of the more colorful and more “streamlined” tom mix. unfortunately, hart had only himself to blame. one had to respect hart's love for the real west; at the same time, one had to admit that his work had become unashamedly sentimental, in its own way as cliché-ridden as the slick little “b” pictures he detested so much. he was growing older, too, finding it difficult to maintain the pace set in his earlier films. hart still rode hard, and fought hard, but such sequences were kept to a minimum, while the pictures themselves seemed to grow longer. this slowdown in the pace was thrown into even greater relief by the accelerated pace of westerns generally. wild bill hickok, which opened with a delightful subtitle, hart apologizing to his audience for not looking the least bit like hickok, and asking his “friends” to accept him as he is, was an intensely personal work, superb in its action scenes, but surprisingly inaccurate historically as a result of hart's romantic overindulgence with the facts, and excessively maudlin in its sentimental overtones. although wild bill hickok made money, adolph zukor and jesse lasky, who released hart's films through artcraft, a division of famous players, told hart that exhibitors were tiring of his pictures. hart, dis- believing them (and not without some cause, for although zukor and lasky promised to do so, they failed to produce any documentary evidence in the form of exhibitors' letters of complaints), went calmly about his business, making what was to be his last film under zukor and lasky, singer jim mckee. unhappily, it was quite the worst film he had ever made, and seemed to lend no little credence to the complaints reported by his studio heads. hart was touchy about his age, and insisted on playing a youthful hero in all his films, or in any event, the hero on whom age rests lightly, the man still capable of winning the love of a girl. this had earlier produced some illogical plots, but hart went quite overboard in singer jim mckee. it was an absurd production, with a rambling story- line that included every favorite hart incident. the film as a whole resembled a heavy melodrama, and it was far from the tight and realistic treatments the public had come to expect of hart at his best. it was also a sad decline from hell's hinges and the toll gate, all the more depressing because it was a decline brought about not through studio supervision or any other external factors, but by hart himself. singer jim mckee was the last straw for zukor, who told hart bluntly that from now on he would have to submit to supervision. he would continue to star, but in studio-picked stories and with studio-picked directors. if this ultimatum seems rather harsh on the basis of only one really bad picture, it should be remembered that there had been increasing signs of this decline in hart's recent pictures, and obviously the studio had to check him before he ruined himself as a property. hart, needless to say, refused the ultimatum. he probably honestly felt that singer jim mckee was a fine film, and since his principles were far more important to him than a regular salary check, he left the lasky studio, and to all intents retired from films. it seemed for a while that his old tradition might be revived when he returned to the screen in with tumbleweeds for united artists. not only was it his comeback picture, but it was his first real epic, and, with a buget of $ , , by far his biggest venture to date. those who expected hart to have given in, to have made the sort of western that audiences apparently wanted (and that zukor had earlier demanded that hart make) were sadly mistaken. in tumbleweeds, hart reverted to type without compromise. it was austere, factual. although showing his age more than ever, he still played an ostensibly young man, he still won the heroine at the end, and he even engaged in some skittish comedy scenes. the sentimental scenes had their usual high intensity, the western william s. hart fights his own gang, one at a time, to prevent their kidnap ping the beautiful girl member of a traveling show troupe. from the test- ing block ( ). the simple, glass-roofed stage at inceville. william s. hart in the devil's double ( ). and the climactic reunion scene was typical hart emotion at its peak. in many ways, tumbleweeds was one of the best of the western epics: it was staged on a truly lavish scale, but again, hart's refusal to intro- duce action for its own sake, and his refusal to “streamline” develop- ment made it seem more than a little slow and dated. the giant land rush sequence notwithstanding, its epic qualities were appreciated and noted far less than were those of the covered wagon, a film in many ways inferior to tumbleweeds. nevertheless, tumbleweeds was a much greater success than singer jim mckee had been. only in his use of lucien littlefield as a comic part- ner-an odd touch for hart—was there a sign that, probably uncon- sciously, hart had noted the existence of this cliché in the newer west- erns. a stickler for authenticity, hart hated fakery of any kind, and thus there is fairly little stuntwork in the land rush sequence, possibly to its minor detriment. the crashing of a wagon is rather crudely arranged at one point, and this is typical of hart, and a flaw that is noticeable in o'malley of the mounted and other films. if hart had to resort to tricky stunt work to get an action effect, he usually chose to avoid it, or to get around it as well as possible by editing. the land rush itself, as the cherokee strip is opened to settlers, was a mighty sequence, generally superior to the similar, and imitative, rush the western in wesley ruggles' cimarron. it contained at least one shot of sheer poetry-hart, galloping at top speed on his horse, rides over the crest of a hill, with the camera angled in such a way as to give the impres- sion of man and rider literally flying through space. (the ground level was just below the frameline of the image.) unusually fine editing dis- tinguished the land rush sequence, and particularly the build-up to it. between the subtitle, “ready for the signal for the maddest stampede in american history” and the actual start of the rush, there are frames, split up into twenty-five separate shots, the shortest of which runs for only five frames (about a fifth of a second). this sequence is almost mathematically constructed, the shots of the tense, anxious homesteaders running twice as long as those of the disinterested cavalry observers. there is also a simple, and telling, shot immediately preced- ing the rush itself. as noon, the hour for the rush, is reached, the ca- valrymen fire a cannon. there is a quick shot of hart's horse, alone, tethered to a tree; it is startled by the noise, and breaks free. then a cut to the mass activity of hundreds of wagons and riders beginning the rush, the stampede for land. early in the film, there is one poignant moment when hart and his riders, on the crest of a hill, watch the great trail herds being driven from the land that is soon to be made available to all settlers. as the herds drift by, hart removes his hat sadly, and remarks: “boys, it's the last of the west.” and the others remove their hats reverently, and watch as an era passes into history. hart's comment was in some ways a prophetic one. with the excep- tion of edward l. cahn's law and order ( ) and possibly john ford's later the wagonmaster, tumbleweeds was the last of the old breed of westerns. it was also hart's last western. despite good reviews in new york and excellent business in its new york première, united artists disliked the film and sought to cut it to five reels. hart prevented this; united artists hit back by deliberately mishandling the film, booking it into minor theaters where its commercial potential could not be real- ized. hart then took the case to court, charging united artists with breaching a stipulation in their contract, one calling for them to exert their best efforts on the film's behalf. (united artists later went through a series of similar cases with other dissatisfied independent producers.) hart won his case; in fact he never lost one of his many legal battles, despite wrangles with other important individuals and corporations. however, his victory was only a technical one, for the damage had been done. while he recouped his production costs, he estimated that he had lost half of a million dollars in unrealized profits. discouraged, hart and realism he retired from films, while still remaining on the fringe of the industry. he made a guest appearance in king vidor's marion davies film, show people, and was the subject of one or two screen snapshots shorts at columbia. he coached both johnny mack brown and robert taylor in their respective versions of billy the kid, and sold his old story, o’mal- ley of the mounted, to fox for a remake with george o'brien. while it was a competent enough western, it bore little resemblance to the original except in the bare outlines, and hart was so disgusted that he refused to sell any more of his properties for remakes. instead, he settled on his newhall ranch and wrote. hart's books are heavy going, deliberately couched in rough western vernacular, full of a rugged but far from rhythmic poetry. nevertheless, they are well worth the effort it takes to read them, and his autobiography, my life east and west, is particularly readable, even though hart's tendency to romanticize pro- duced some inaccuracies. tumbleweeds, then, marked william s. hart's farewell to the screen. in , the film was reissued in the united states by astor pictures, with music and effects added, and an eight-minute prologue. this pro- logue was photographed at hart's horseshoe ranch in newhall, and it is unquestionably one of the most moving reels of film ever made. it is virtually the film of a man delivering his own obituary. hart, dressed in his beloved western costume, walks slowly over the hill and up to the camera to address the audience. he is old, but still a fine figure of a man. he stands there before us more as a represent- ative of the old west itself than as a silent picture star. in a firm, beau- tifully modulated voice, hart tells the audience of the picture's back- ground; he explains what the opening of the cherokee strip meant to william s. hart served as technical adviser when king vidor (center) made billy the kid in and donated one of billy's guns to star johnny mack brown. . both the white man and the indian. then he goes on to discuss west- ern pictures, and as he tells how sorry he is that he is too old to make more of them, and how he misses little fritz, his pinto pony, there are tears in his eyes. it is a magnificent, superbly touching speech, spoken with all the force and authority that hart must have given to his shakespearean roles; it was made in only two or three takes. apart from being one of the longest speeches recorded on film, it is also, obviously, one of the most deeply felt. some of the words, from a person other than hart, might even seem unnecessarily sentimental. but from hart, every word is so thoroughly sincere, that one can only be moved beyond measure by the whole experience. its emotional impact apart, it is also a reminder of what a truly fine actor hart was; had he only been a little younger, he might well have taken the place in sound westerns ultimately secured by gary cooper (and henry fonda in his ford films). the western hart off-screen off-screen, hart was much like his celluloid hero. his love of animals, especially of horses and dogs, was passionate and sincere. any wrangler working for him who failed to loosen his horse's cinch during the lunch break, or who was otherwise cruel or thoughtless, was dismissed on the spot. he lived quietly on his newhall ranch, avoided any kind of scan- dal, drank like a gentleman, and loved a hard game of stud poker more than any other kind of relaxation. his reaction to misfortune was always unpredictable. he merely shrugged off the news that he had lost a large investment in a dakota bank. while shooting john petticoats on location in new orleans, he was told that ince had stolen the hart com- pany books. “i'll be damned!” he exclaimed-and went right on shooting. however, lambert hillyer recalls that when a woman bumped into hart's brand-new car and dented his fender, he wasn't fit to work with for days. but characteristically, hillyer reports, hart did not vent his spleen on the driver, for to hart every woman was a lady. he was a loyal friend, too, but a man with an obstinate streak, and once an enemy, he was an enemy for life. hart's close friends included western lawmen wyatt earp, “uncle billy” tilghman, and “bat” masterson, as well as will rogers, artists charles russell and james montgomery flagg, and even pat o'malley, a reformed outlaw who had ridden with the al jennings gang. he drew no lines, racial, religious, or social. as the late g. w. dunston, one of hart's oldest friends, and a motion picture projectionist until his never recorded, but it is an established fact that hickok killed at least four men in the battle. when it was known that hart was going to incorporate this incident into his picture, relatives of the mccanless clan wrote him, asking that their family name not be dishonored. hart, realizing that there were undoubtedly two sides to the story of that battle, and not wanting to cause distress to any mccanless descendants, willingly changed the names in his film. in , hart's sister mary, whom he loved dearly, and who had written several books with him, died. she had been ill for years, as a result of in- juries received in an automobile wreck. hart lost much of his zest for living, and his eyesight began to fail. he wrote g. w. dunston: “at times i can hardly see at all,” and added: “there is nothing i can attribute my illness to, except that i believe it is caused by the deep grief i feel over the loss and absence of my darling sister. at times it seems to be too great a burden to carry. she was in all reality the better part of my existence." he died in los angeles on june , , and was buried in green- wood cemetery, brooklyn, alongside his mother, father, two sisters, and the baby brother who had first been buried in dakota. he left an estate of well over a million dollars. relatively little was bequeathed to his son: hart was rather disappointed in the way the boy turned out. to him, he just didn't measure up, but knowing hart, and the rigorous yardsticks he applied, this may not have been due to any real shortcomings on the part of his son. there had been no actual ill will between them, and hart did leave his son some money, although not enough to permit the younger hart to fall back on it without earn- ing his own way. this, too, was typical of the man. the bulk of the estate, after bequests to several charities, including fifty thousand dollars to the society for the prevention of cruelty to animals, was left to los angeles county. in his lifetime, hart had also given fifty thou- sand dollars to the city park commission, to effect improvements on his old west hollywood estate, which he had also given to the commis- sion as a park. he added: “i'm trying to do an act of justice. i'm trying to give back to the american people what the american people so generously gave me.” the bequest of his estate to los angeles county carried with it the stipulation that his horseshoe ranch be turned into a public park, and his home a museum for the western material he had assembled. for years, the ranch, with the ws brand on the front gate, was sealed, with barbed-wire fences to keep out trespassers. valuable deposits of oil on the land were said to be the reason for the indecision concerning the future of the property. but finally hart's wishes were respected, and the the half-life-size bronze statue of william s. hart, awarded to the best bronc-buster at the wyoming frontier days celebra- tion in cheyenne. ranch was opened to the public as a museum. beautifully maintained with care and respect by a custodian and staff, it is not exactly a huge tourist attraction, but stands as a fascinating and invaluable landmark to students of both western history and western film history. livestock is maintained there, and the corrals and other aspects of work-a-day ranch life remain as they were, unglamorized for exhibition purposes. the graveyard for fritz and hart's many other pets is neatly kept. and hart's workrooms remain, too, with many of his scripts, props, cos- tumes, guns, and saddles intact, representing a marvelous collection of western lore. the ranch, situated atop a hill (and overlooking harry carey's former ranch) is truly a majestic sight. one can well imagine how happy hart must have been to retire here—and in his final years, perhaps, how lonely. at sundown, with its solitude, and the great expanses of rolling hills on every side, it must have harmonized espe- cially well with the sentimental “close to god” philosophy that had always been so pronounced in his activity, but which became even more emphasized in his last years. no more appropriate setting could be found for this final adieu of a grand old man who loved truth of the west and the western with a passion and a devotion rarely shared later by other human beings. hart and realism tom mix and howmanship o "i want to keep my pictures in such a vein that parents will not object to letting their children see me on the screen.” tom mix if william s. hart brought stature, poetry, and realism to the western, tom mix unquestionably introduced showmanship, as well as the slick, polished format that was to serve ken maynard and hoot gibson in the twenties and gene autry and roy rogers in the thirties. his influence as such outlived that of hart in the long run. mix, born in , in clearfield county, pennsylvania (and certainly not “in a log cabin north of el paso," as so many roman- ticized biographies put it), was blessed with a colorful and adventurous early career. while the western background attributed to him is authentic, it was a background that he drifted into in his twenties and not one that he was born into. having unsuccessfully tried to enlist in the navy while still in his teens, mix settled for the u. s. army instead, and saw action in the spanish-american war; field artillery then was horsedrawn, and a soldier auto- matically went through much the same training as a cavalryman. he then saw service in the philippine insurrection, and later he fought at peking in the boxer rebellion, as a member of the american expeditionary force. mustered out of the army upon his return to america, he was soon back in action again—this time breaking horses that were being sent to the british army for use in the war against the boers. he accompanied a shipment of horses to the british troops in africa, and remained there for a period as a wrangler. the western tom mix in a typical action scene from one of his last fox vehicles, hello, cheyenne ( ). the african sojourn over, the wanderer migrated west and assumed a rather no- madic existence in texas, oklahoma, and kansas, working at first as an ordi- nary cowpuncher, and later joining the miller brothers' ranch, one of the finest, and certainly the most famous, of all the wild west shows. officially acting as livestock foreman, mix talked himself into a position as a rodeo performer, and became a champion prize winner in the rodeos at prescott, arizona, and canon city, colorado. during those barnstorming days he formed a close friendship with will rogers, and saw action as a law enforcement officer—with the texas rangers, as a sheriff in kansas and oklahoma, and as a deputy u. s. marshal for the eastern division of okla- homa. studio publicity has undoubtedly colored some of this phase of mix's career, but documentary evidence does exist con- firming that mix's law enforcing activities were quite as rugged as his later movie adventures. the story of mix's capture of the notorious new mexico cattle rustlers, the shonts brothers, could have been taken from any one of his later western thrillers for fox. but he was beginning to show tentative signs of settling down. having bought a ranch in the cherokee territory of okla- homa, he married olive stokes, the third of his five wives. but far from retiring to a sedate ranching life, mix's career was just beginning, and it was the acquistion of the ranch that directly led to his entry into motion pictures. the selig company in chicago was looking for a good ranch location, and for someone who knew the surrounding country. informed of this, to . sos ne tos aten mix immediately offered both his services and his ranch to selig, who accepted, dispatch- ing a unit to shoot a documen- tary film entitled, ranch life in the great south west, a simple and straightforward little work depicting the processes in- volved in rounding up cattle and shipping them to the east- ern markets. the director was francis boggs, whose career came to a tragic end shortly afterwards. while directing on selig's open-air stage in los angeles, he was shot down and killed by a crazed man. on this, his first association with selig, mix acted in the capacity of general adviser, taking charge of the cowboys, always available, just out of camera range, to shoot or rope any animal that got out of con- trol. when the film was fin- ished, mix assumed that his work for selig was at an end. thus, struck by wanderlust again, he drifted into mexico joining madero's forces, and at one point was even set up be- fore a firing squad. upon his return home, mix learned that the selig com- pany had been trying to find him, and promptly left for chi- cago to investigate. possibly, the mere thought of doing something new prompted his decision to join selig again, for his earlier association with . the western the colonel had not been markedly promising or rewarding. as a now permanent member of the selig company, he repeated his role as a "safety man” keeping troublesome animals in control, doubling in tricky scenes in selig's popular jungle and wild animal adventures. he later recalled having been asked to battle a pair of wolves, barehanded. ultimately he started to act, both in chicago and california, one of his first appearances for selig being in back to the primitive, which starred kathlyn williams. soon he was permanently attached to the company's california studio, and between and , he made between seventy and one hundred one- and two-reelers for selig, with predominantly western backgrounds. in many mix functioned as star, author, and director, and it is probably because of this that so many of the films looked like artless affairs shot with little or no preparation. this is no discredit to mix, since his back- ground, anything but an artistic one, hardly qualified him to step right into a writer-director's role. the wonder is that with his limitations, he turned out so many films so quickly. the pictures fluctuated between simple, folksy comedies in the will rogers vein (mrs. murphy's cooks, why the sheriff is a bachelor) to more conventional westerns (in the days of the thundering herd, pony express rider) which often were mere showcases for mix's spectacular riding stunts. many of these little films, e.g. sagebrush tom and mr. haywood, producer, are of particular interest and value to film historians today, because they were comedies built around the business of making west- erns. they featured backstage shots of the selig studios, glimpses of sets and old cameras, close-ups of selig's notes with instructions to the crew, etc. sagebrush tom had a comedy sequence in which mix, shown an ad for the italian quo vadis, attempts to restage the fight with the bull in his western corral. the quality of these shorts varied considerably; some had surprisingly vigorous action material, but others were dreary. as a group, they were generally below the standards of other western shorts being made at the time. they were not even representative of the best selig westerns, for certainly films like the range law ( ) with wil- liam duncan were superior. during these seven years, broncho billy anderson was at the peak of his fame, soon to retire, and hart had been introduced, graduating in this same period from two-reelers to five-reel features. if any one of mix's films in this period really stood out, it was probably chip of the flying u ( ) in which he co-starred with kathlyn williams. it was a good action story by peter b. kyne, and was directed by colin camp- bell, who also directed one of selig's most successful action features, the spoilers. tom mix and showmanship although this latter film seems fairly ordinary today, and its famous fight between william farnum and tom santschi eclipsed by later screen battles, it was a tremendously popular action film, perhaps be- cause of the unusual realism of the sets and exteriors. its popularity ex- ceeded even the de mille-lasky production of the squaw man, directed by de mille in hollywood in late december, , principally because the mix film production enjoyed better weather conditions and could also take advantage of hollywood's laboratory facilities. the squaw man's chief claim to fame is its quite erroneous allegation that it was the first feature film made in hollywood. however, it and selig's the spoilers were both among the early really successful westerns. the squaw man was remade twice by de mille, both at times in his career when he was retrenching, with future policy still undetermined. the spoilers was remade four times. although the mix period with selig was generally uneventful, this was due more to company policy than to any shortcomings on the part of mix. selig was mostly interested in, and geared for, the production of shorts, limiting mix to one-, two- and three-reelers. committed to quantity, he had no time to develop his own screen personality, or to enlarge the scope of the films themselves. nevertheless, the films proved to be a useful training ground for mix, and they did improve as they went along. when he joined fox in , there was no uncertainty or faltering; he became an immediate star attraction. only then did selig realize the commercial potential of the old mix films and he immediately began by re-editing the old shorts. some of these “new” selig-tom mix westerns, films like twisted trails and the heart of texas ryan, are still in circulation and show, if not cohesion, at least considerable ingenuity. one complete reel of twisted trails is taken from a film in which mix did not even appear, and serves merely to establish the predicament of the heroine (bessie eyton) in running away from an unwanted marriage. an earlier reel had established mix as a wandering cowboy; then, at the beginning of reel three, an inserted subtitle reads: “thus were the twisted trails of the boy and girl joined together” —whereupon mix meets the heroine, an accident she has had having thrown them together. the remainder of the film consists of one of their co-starring two-reelers. neither mix nor fox was too concerned over these manipulations, but fox stressed that mix had been seen previously only in comedies (a statement that was far from correct) and that his new films were his first as a western star. when fox signed mix in , his real career began. although mix began with a two-reeler, six cylinder love, written, produced, and directed by mix himself, he switched immediately to features like durand a production shot from tom mix's just tony ( ); the muscular as- sistant in the striped shirt is george o'brien, soon to be a western star himself. (page .) of the badlands, directed by a former ince man, richard stanton. these were good films, endowed with strong production values, skilled direction, and excellent locations. a decision was soon made to create a unique film personality for mix; fox did not want mix to become a carbon copy of hart. the new star's films were to contain strong comic elements, mak- ing a special play for the juvenile trade. early films in this category were cupid's roundup and six shooter andy, directed by chester and sidney franklin. they used popular juvenile stars from the recent successes, jack and the beanstalk and aladdin and his lamp. one year later, when mix's film career at fox was just getting under way, that of william s. hart was at its zenith. but by , in terms of audience popularity, hart's career began a gradual decline with mix taking over unquestioned supremacy in the western field. his films for fox over a ten-year period literally made the company, just as the autry westerns in the mid-thirties put republic on the map. the lush theda bara-annette kellerman period behind him, william fox was only moderately successful when mix joined his company. just as, at warners, rin tin tin helped pay for the costly but unprofitable prestige features with john barrymore, so did tom mix's films enable fox to encourage the production of such classic, but financially unsuccessful films as murnau's sunrise. fox openly admitted mix's value, giving him the full “star treatment.” the cowboy had his own production unit, an elaborate private bungalow-everything that went with the status of a hollywood star in the movies' most colorful era. by , mix was being paid seventeen thousand dollars per week and he was earning every cent of it for the studio. mix wrote and directed only one of his features under the fox contract, the daredevils, made in . direction per se interested him hardly at all, but he was concerned with the overall conception of his westerns, so much so that, in their own way, they were as much personal productions as were the films of tom mix and showmanship the western william s. hart. aimed at a wide audience, they were breezy and cheerful, “streamlined” entertainment that rarely attempted a realistic re-creation of the west as it was, offering instead action and excitement spiced with a boyish sense of fun. mix went out of his way to devise little stunts and “bits of business” which were utilized for their own sake, regardless of story continuity or their own probability. mix's screen character never drank, swore, or even used violence without due cause. his scripts usually saw to it that he was never required to kill a villain, or even wound him if it could be avoided. instead, he would capture and subdue them by some elaborate lasso-work, or by some fancy stunts. his idealized western hero, pos- sessed of all the virtues and none of the vices, helped usher in the code of clean-living, non-drinking, and somewhat colorless sagebrush heroes, a code that remained in force until the early fifties, when bill elliott, playing the tough westerner characterized by hart, began to restore the balance to a more realistic level. almost all of the mix films were made on location, far away from the studio. he made a point of using national park sites for many films, often writing and constructing the films deliberately so that these loca- tions could be exploited as an integral part of the plot. he once stated: "i want as many people as possible to know what wonderful possessions they own, and to stir up in them a desire to see these places.” there was hardly a location of importance and beauty that the mix troupe failed to cover, although it appeared that he had a special fondness for colorado. like william s. hart and john ford, mix had his own crew on whom he could rely. lynn reynolds directed more than a dozen of mix's fox westerns. cliff smith and lambert hillyer, old hart alumni, were two more directors in whom mix frequently put his trust. john ford directed two mix films, three jumps ahead and north of hudson bay, and william beaudine, george marshall, edward sedgewick, jack conway, lewis seiler, jack blystone, gene forde, and edward le saint were others who at one time or another directed mix. in his choice of cameramen, mix favored daniel b. clark, a former soldier and division boxing champion who had been with fox since , after mix had joined the studio, and who had started to work for mix as a still cameraman. clark was soon assigned as an assistant cameraman under ben kline and frank b. good, and later promoted to the head position for just tony. clark and mix, both alike in so many ways, and both rugged adventurers with army backgrounds, hit it off together right away. clark shot all of the remainder of mix's fox west- erns—more than forty films which were characterized by superior pho- tom mix and showmanship tography of these exceptionally beautiful locations. mix's films were of sufficient importance to warrant name leading ladies, and among those who appeared opposite mix at fox were colleen moore, patsy ruth miller, and lois wilson. during his stay at fox, he was instrumental in getting a number of other cowboy actors launched in their careers. buck jones began as a trick rider with the mix unit, and was soon afterwards placed by fox into a starring series of his own, patterned after the mix films. john wayne also got his first break with mix, who got him a job as a prop boy. and george o'brien worked for some months as an assistant cameraman with the mix unit. upon leaving fox to join another unit, o'brien drifted into acting; he was making so little progress that he had signed on as a galley slave in frank lloyd's the sea hawk when john ford finally contacted him and gave o'brien the role in the iron horse that was to bring him fame. all told, mix made more than sixty features for fox, among them such off-beat subjects as tom mix in arabia and dick turpin. the latter was an elaborate and carefully made "special,” but although it earned money, and although mix went through his traditional riding stunts, the sight of tom mix in period costume, dueling with a sword instead of a six-shooter, did not sit too well with his fans, and in his next film he reverted permanently to the costume and character that were expected of him. mix was consistent in his screen roles: he avoided the reformed-outlaw type, and that of the dude who went west to make a man of himself. nor did he attempt the role of the cowpuncher who tames and marries the willful heiress, something that most western stars have done at least once in their careers. mix had very definite ideas about the sort of west- erner he should play, and his own words are to the point: “i ride into a place owning my own horse, saddle, and bridle. it isn't my quarrel, but i get into trouble doing the right thing for somebody else. when it's all ironed out, i never get any money reward. i may be made foreman of the ranch and i get the girl, but there is never a fervid love scene.” mix's simplified and apparently cliché description of his own format hardly does justice to the films. his westerns might not have been either “poetic” or “adult,” but they were well written, with three-dimensional characters, sensible motivation, and often highly imaginative plots. among his more notable westerns at fox were rough riding romance (very much off the beaten track in that it had a ruritanian background), and tumbling river (in which tony, tom's horse, was given a frisky colt as a partner). just tony was tom's own tribute to his horse, much as hart had made the western pinto ben and the narrow trail a tribute to fritz. the film had some ex- ceptionally fine animal footage and, as always, was loaded with action; dan clark recalls it as being one of the best of the mix films. lambert hillyer's choice as the best is the lone star ranger, adapted from two zane grey stories. the rainbow trail, made when mix was at the absolute height of his career, was another outstanding western, and con- tained some of the finest stunt work ever filmed. mix was wise enough not to let the success of his pictures influence him into making them “bigger” and more pretentious. even at his peak, he never abandoned the five- or six-reel feature. the great k & a rob- bery, shot on location in colorado, using the denver and the rio grande western railroad, was another top western notable for its stunting. in one scene tom escaped from the villains by hanging from an aerial cable, sliding down it to land on tony, while on another occasion he and a gang of villains engage in a no-holds-barred fight atop a fast- moving freight train. since westerns with railroading backgrounds (out of fashion nowadays, alas) were popular with audiences in the days of silents, mix, with his boyish love of adventure, wrote train sequences into his films whenever he could. having written the trains in, the next move was to write in as many fights, chases, and stunts revolving around the trains as possible. dan clark recalls that he set up his cameras on every conceivable part of a locomotive during his days with mix-and for that matter, on almost every other type of vehicle, including the cage of an aerial cable. no man's gold ( ), for instance, contained a typi- cally whirlwind finish; tom capturing the villains by sweeping down on their shack at high speed in a steel ore bucket suspended by a cable. unfortunately, most of the great mix westerns are no longer in existence, the chemical effects of time on old film in this case having been assisted by a disastrous fire at fox, in which many valuable prints and negatives were burned. but at least single prints of two mix films from the twenties have been saved, sky high and riders of the purple sage. it is perhaps sad that the latter, an atypical mix film and one of the weakest at that, should remain while others, far better, have apparently vanished for all time. sky high, however, is about as typical a tom mix film as one could hope to find, as exhilarating and thrilling now as it was in . incidentally, it would seem to substantiate the claim that mix rarely if ever used a double. certainly all western stars, at one time or another, have used doubles for action scenes, but mix used them far less than most. mix, himself, was quite touchy on this point; his unit included a few stuntmen who could take over for him in certain scenes if necessary, but they and the rest of the crew were sworn to absolute secrecy. sky high seems not to have taken advantage of these daredevils at all, for tom tackles villains, falls from a horse, and hops over rocks along the rim of the grand canyon, all with the camera grinding away at close range. riders of the purple sage gave tom few opportunities for such stunting, and was perhaps the only western he made in the more restrained william s. hart vein. somber and austere, even a little bloodthirsty, it was based on a typically complicated zane grey plot. it seemed too heavy a vehicle for high-spirited tom mix, and he seemed ill at ease having to take his material so seriously. but, substandard or not, riders of the purple sage confirmed again what real production values mix put into his movies, and what superb camerawork dan clark could create. enjoying fame and success, mix lived now like an oriental potentate. he built an enormous mansion in beverly hills, complete with swim- ming pool and an english butler. his cars were custom built, with hand- tooled leather upholstery and fittings of silver. he dressed lavishly, and began the fashion, later exploited by autry and rogers, of wearing out- fits that more resembled uniforms than range clothing. one of his more garish items of apparel was a horsehair belt, fastened with a diamond- tom mix and showmanship riders of death valley ( ), one of mix's last westerns. to ro yk nu wa v . . lu my pal the king ( ), a typical mix feature combining ruritanian ad- venture with western heroics. the boy king is mickey rooney. studded buckle, and emblazoned with the slogan: "tom mix, america's champion cowboy.” when mix's fox contract came to a close, he moved to fbo, an energetic independent company that specialized in first-class west- ern and other action films. it was then under the direction of joseph p. kennedy, john f. kennedy's father. mix's westerns at this new studio retained both the format and the previous high standards, although the budgets were slightly smaller. because of an incomplete contract at fox, dan clark was unable to join mix at fbo, but they worked together again in mix's sound westerns for universal and mascot. the fbo series was short-lived. the sound era was ushered in and the company was reorganized as rko. their initial specialty was very "talkie” adaptations of stage plays, to the exclusion of westerns. in the early thirties, however, mix, again with his own unit, made an excel- lent series of sound westerns for universal. the formula never varied: escapes, tricks, showmanship, stunts. in one film, my pal the king (a ruritanian adventure with mickey rooney as a boy-king), mix stepped “outside" the movie for a moment, directly addressed the audi- ence, and asked that it try to put itself in the shoes of the child in the movie who was about to see his first rodeo. it was a touching moment, and offered an interesting glimpse of another tom mix. sound did not improve the mix westerns, for when he recited dialogue he was often unconvincing. he put little meaning or expression into his lines, and his speech was often slurred until it was partially incoherent. but the films were still enjoyable. casting was still good, as was the direction. the first destry rides again was one of the films made at this time, and like most of them it was quite elaborately mounted when one visayaw douglas fairbanks ar dza john ford: – during tom mix's selig period, a gradual standardization of the western began, lead- ing ultimately to the beginnings of the “series” western with set stars (harry carey, wil- liam russell, roy stewart) and formats. triangle, which released the hart pictures, had other interesting western subjects, the best of them made, as we have seen, by or under the supervision of d. w. griffith. ince's westerns, as the deserter and the bugle call, for example, continued to be well- made “spectaculars,” but they were little more than expanded versions of his earlier two-reelers. griffith, at the head of fine arts, his subsidiary at triangle, was not only producing such interesting westerns as the wild girl of the sierras, with mae marsh, robert harron and wilfrid lucas, but also spectacular films of the caliber of the martyrs of the alamo, dealing with the war be- tween mexico and texas. highlights of this picture were the battles at the alamo and san jacinto. this period in western history was later covered again in sound westerns, among which we may mention republic's man of conquest, and the last command, universal's the man from the alamo, allied artists' the first texan, and recently john wayne's the alamo. by far some of the most delightful and off-beat of the triangle westerns were those starring douglas fairbanks. their quality was astonishingly uneven; some, like the americano and flirting with fate, were both clumsy and slow; others, like his picture in the dreamed reality' on the screen an move forward and backward tecause it is really an external nd ubiquitous virtual present. the action of drama goes zxorably forward because acates a future, a destiny; be dream mode is an endless now.” sanne langer the papers and american aristocracy, were brilliant films, not only exciting in their action, but subtle and inventive in their comedy. his picture in the papers, in particular, with its satire on the american craze for pub- licity, was a little gem of the film art. several of fairbanks' thirteen films for triangle were westerns, among them the good bad man, the half-breed and, best of all, manhattan madness. the latter was to prove a blueprint for the best of fairbanks' later pictures for artcraft, casting him as the irrepressible modern youth, happily unconcerned with making a living, existing only for adventure. fairbanks played the role of a westerner who came to his staid new york club and regaled its members with tales of his exciting adventures in the west. determined to show him that the metropolis on the hudson can be as vigorous a place as texas, the clubmen fake a kidnapping, and give the modern d'artagnan full rein to go through his paces. in the process, he triumphs over all obstacles—including hordes of villains- that are placed in his way. the best of fairbanks' films (before the mark of zorro set him making costume dramas) were all madcap adventures, with as much comedy as action, with both elements beautifully interwoven, films not intended to be taken seriously for a moment. it is unfortunate that fairbanks' the western the classic "high noon" shoot-out was satirized by douglas fair- banks as early as in man- hattan madness. _l lllllll douglas fairbanks, the eternal optimist in the face of all odds. from the knickerbocker buckaroo ( ), one of the best of many westerns he made prior to . greatness is frequently measured by such films as robin hood and the thief of bagdad; these films were pretentious affairs, and one can only assume that many critics and historians of the cinema have either for- gotten, or are totally unaware of his earlier and livelier work. the best of fairbanks' westerns for artcraft, made just before he switched to united artists, are of the highest quality. they include the man from painted post, the knickerbocker buckeroo and headin' south. oc- casionally he made a weak film like arizona. arizona was based on a serious play ill-suited to fairbanks' style and personality. he injected some fine action and comedy moments into the opening and closing reels, but otherwise it was a generally stodgy, if handsomely mounted film. fairbanks' artcraft westerns were some of the best action pictures ever made; they also were some of the most diverting, with their rollick- ing sense of fun, and the implicit demand made on the audience to take them any way but seriously. among the most frequently used directors on these films were victor fleming, allan dwan, and arthur rosson, while william wellman figured prominently in one of the best, the knickerbocker buckaroo. in , while mix was beginning to get star-billing at fox, and keith of the border ( ), starring roy stewart. while hart and douglas fairbanks were making some of their best films for artcraft, the outlook for westerns in general was far from bright. few were being made and most of them were individual films, not part of any established series. despite the success of the hart and mix films, the field apparently needed the stimulation of the covered wagon, five years later, to return westerns generally to public favor. at triangle, roy stewart had taken over as the studio's number one western star. he was an acceptable replacement, but a poor substitute in acting ability and star quality for william s. hart. worth noting of stewart's films are the law's outlaw and faith endurin', directed by cliff smith. as always in a period of decline, a number of “gimmicks” were intro- duced to add novelty. one of these was the wide-screen development of golden gate, william farnum in the first version of the spoilers ( ). the paralta company. a man's man, an action picture starring j. war- ren kerrigan and directed by oscar apfel, used this innovation and ad- vertised it in the following way:“... compared with our wide screen, the old screen is like looking at part of the stage of a theatre through a square hole.” an early sound system which had had some success in in a number of shorts made by edison was now used again. in the claim, directed by frank reicher for metro pictures corp., edith storey sang “annie laurie.” apparently, synchronization for that par- ticular sequence was so complicated that most exhibitors preferred to run the film as a silent. a number of basically non-western stars now ventured into the field for the first time. harold lockwood's first western was the avenging trail, directed by francis ford; william desmond at triangle began to add western roles to his usual characterization of the “romantic adven- turer.” william farnum, still remembered from the spoilers, appeared in a number of outdoor pictures, among which were rough and ready, the conqueror, and the heart of a lion. franklyn farnum also attracted a fol- lowing in westerns like the fighting grin, a comedy shot in arizona that leaned heavily on the fairbanks format. a good percentage of the action series films made by the american film company and starring stolid william russell contained western themes. one of the westerns directed by henry king for that outfit, six feet four was a curious forerunner of king's the gunfighter in that it was fairbanks and ford william desmond in deuce duncan ( ). fairbanks and ford moving picture world of june , , is as follows: "buck the scrapper loses his girl, who goes to the city when she is bored with the ranch. there, unemployed, she is innocently thrust into a house of questionable repute. when buck and his friends bring a cargo of cattle to the city to sell, he is lured by a lady of the streets to the house and finds his girl there as she is being attacked. buck fights her assailant, and takes the girl back to the west.” already, it seems, ford thought nothing of presenting his western hero as a man human enough to be lured into a bordello. with his first feature, ford scored an instant success. the film was straight shootin', with hoot gibson supporting harry carey. this time moving picture world commented: “... a cleancut, straightforward tale. both the author and the director are to be congratulated upon having selected compelling scenes and situations for the production. the western panorama is set forth in clear, attractive photography and the riding and fighting episodes are enacted with dash and enthusiasm. so success- ful is the offering that it deserves to rank with the virginian and whis- pering smith.” the secret man, bucking broadway, phantom riders, and hill billy further enhanced ford's reputation. wild women ( ) was something of an excursion into the fairbanks mold. as the synopsis put it: “no rarebit fiend dream was ever half so vivid as the visions that follow the imbib- ing of too many honolulu cocktails. cheyenne harry and his ranchers drink freely after winning the rodeo, and wild dreams of shanghaiing and the south seas follow.” ford was happy making westerns, and for the time being continued to make nothing else. a fight for love was a large-scale western dealing with the efforts of the canadian mounties to stamp out whiskey run- ning to the indians; bare fists was a sentimental drama, somewhat in the w. s. hart vein. then, in , came the outcasts of poker flat based on bret harte's story. photoplay commented: “two remarkable things are harry carey's rise to real acting power, and director ford's marvellous river locations and absolutely incomparable photography. this photoplay is an optic symphony.” ford, as can be seen, was already going out of his way to secure fine locations. ace of the saddle, his next, was photographed in the picturesque rio grande valley. in only two years, john ford made some twenty horse operas and established himself as the foremost director of western dramas, with the possible exception of the quite different william s. hart. the iron horse, a very substantial achievement, was now only four years away; with it would come new discussion concerning the truth of the old west, and it would further implement the saga of the frontier as explored on the screen. covered wagon lohn ford's the iron horse in westerns were generally out of favor, at their lowest point since the pre- hart days of . hart was faltering and the films of tom mix were the only ones that carried any weight at the box office. lesser western stars such as roy stewart had failed to attract the attention of any of the more important directors and, save for a few good isolated program features, e.g. griffith's scarlet days, king vidor's sky pilot, the non-series westerns were generally commonplace. but was also the year of the covered wagon, whose importance as a major event in western movie history cannot be stressed too strongly. the first genuinely epic west- ern and, incidentally, the first american epic not directed by david w. griffith, it gave a tremendous boost to the western genre now in its twentieth year. only fifty westerns were made in , but the success of james cruze's film was such that the following year saw the number had almost tripled. until the elimination of “b” west- erns in the mid-fifties, the annual western output never fell below that figure again, and usually exceeded it. although numerous imitations over the years have made the covered wagon appear to be quite commonplace (its importance is perhaps a little overrated, since the film seems slow and pedestrian, often crudely faked), its effect then proved startling. its plot-a wagon trek to california, with vil- lainy and romance added to round out the the western story-was extremely simple. what amazed the public was the film's sheer size and splendor, and the revelation that a western could achieve the epic stature. most impressive was the magnificent photography, the work of karl brown, formerly an assistant cameraman with griffith, and later the director of such notable films as stark love. vast panoramas of the long wagon trains winding across the plains, the impressive scope of such episodes as the indian attack, the fording of the river, and the buffalo hunt—all these convinced movie audiences that the first twenty years of westerns had but scratched the surface of the magnificent potential of the outdoor film. the sudden success of the film seemed, rather unfairly, to eclipse the notable earlier work of hart, griffith, and ince, for the implication was that now, at last, the covered wagon had brought real maturity to the western certainly, the covered wagon is a film of major importance. it was the first epic western and it acted as a powerful stimulant to the faltering western field. but because it was such an influential film, the legend seems to have sprung up that it was also a great film. in actual fact, the covered wagon was, its photography apart, of negli- gible creative value. like so many paramount films of that period, it lacked real plot. paramount's policy at that time seemed to concentrate on quantity to the exclusion of other considerations. one wallace reid or mary miles minter program feature followed the other with fright- ening rapidity. the production values were slight, the script values often mediocre. it should be remembered that rudolph valentino's dispute with paramount was over being pushed into products of this type. it is no coincidence, therefore, that paramount had fewer important pictures, in the aesthetic sense, in this period than any other studio, or that paramount's best films were those which had a “plus” factor in the scripts, films like the two brenon-bronson films, peter pan and a kiss for cinderella, based on james barrie's plays. in the covered wagon, admittedly, theme is more important than plot. also, james cruze was on his own once the film got under way; but the assembly-line writing and the overall paramount attitude were part of the script well before the cameras rolled, and could not be altogether re- moved by cruze. cruze, in any case, was not a really creative director, but rather a highly competent man who was less likely to compromise than most. the basic weakness of the covered wagon lies in its script, which is more apt for a “b” picture than for an epic. the theme of the wagon trek to california admittedly remained foremost in the film, of more importance than the personal difficulties of hero and heroine, but it was not handled in the heroic sense of ford's building of the railroad a year later. we are never told just why the trek is taking place, or exactly what is to come from it. the impression is created that this is an enterprising group of farmers, seeking to better themselves, and willing to risk danger and hard- ship to find a haven in oregon and california. but lacking is the vital, dramatic sense of the opening up of new frontiers, the carving of an em- pire from the wilderness, the bitter struggle against nature's elements. there is little sense even of the period, except for the dates provided by the film's subtitles, and casual references to brigham young, the mormon leader, and abraham lincoln, references that in themselves are unneces- sary and seem inserted to "authenticate" the background. nor is the cinematic reconstruction of the period helped by the relative significance of the film's incidents: a conventional fight between hero and villain is given far more prominence than an event like the discovery of gold in california, which is treated in a completely offhand manner. the panoramic scenes of the wagon train, the near-documentary scenes of a river-crossing, of campfire singing, of a burial followed by a birth (today this seems too facile, but regarded in context and period it was an effective and original touch), of the hazards of snow and mud ... all this is set off by an orthodox account of a somewhat ludicrously idealized hero (j. warren kerrigan), and a heroine (lois wilson) who loves him, loses him through misunderstandings fomented by the villain, and ultimately wins him in a traditional studio formula ending! the covered wagon and the iron horse the arrival at the promised land: the covered wagon ( ). another detracting factor was the role of the villain played by alan hale. the role was well acted, but written unsubtly, in a completely black vein. here was a villain without a single redeeming feature. in general, then, two elements, near-documentary originality and strictly formula writing, are constantly at odds with each other in the covered a potentially exciting sequence staged in an unexciting manner; cruze shoots the runaway horse episode from the covered wagon in a single uninterrupted long shot. wagon, preventing unity. the production, too, is stolidly paced (perhaps deliberately, to stress the monotony of the trek) and surprisingly unexciting. the big action sequences suffer occasionally from unimaginative in- clusions which strike a false note. for example, the buffalo hunt is marred by patently false studio-shot riding close-ups in which the actor clearly is doing nothing more than bouncing up and down in front of a cyclo- rama; if no running inserts shot on location were available, certainly none at all would have been preferable to a piece of obvious fakery. and the indian fight itself (discussed more fully later) loses much of its punch when one considers the basic improbability of its circumstances: as william s. hart pointed out, somewhat scornfully, no wagon boss would be stupid enough to court disaster by camping his train overnight in a blind canyon. the covered wagon and the iron horse one would like to be generous to the covered wagon because it could so easily have been a great film, as well as an important one. but if only for its superb western vistas, impressive to this day, and for its fine sup- porting performances from tully marshall and ernest torrence (ideally cast as a couple of hard-drinking frontier scouts), the covered wagon is well worth seeing-and, of course, its influence on other film-makers was great. surprisingly, it was almost accidental that the film emerged in the form we know. initially emerson hough's novel had been purchased to be filmed as a vehicle for mary miles minter. she ultimately balked at the prospect of a lengthy and uncomfortable trip on location, and contrived to have herself cast in another film scheduled to go before the cameras at the same time. thus, the property, handed over to james cruze, was cast with comparative unknowns (j. warren kerrigan, lois wilson, ernest torrence, alan hale) and a film quite different from the one in- itially planned was then mapped out. cruze from the first was for shoot- ing the film away from the studio, and some of the locations he used are still among the most impressive to be seen in any western film, partic- ularly those of snake valley in nevada and antelope island in great salt lake, the last the location for the buffalo hunt. to facilitate managing the hundreds of indian extras employed in the production, cruze had the services of col. tim mccoy, then an indian agent for the government, a man who knew the indian sign language fluently, and who subsequently escorted a party of indians to england to appear at the film's première at the london pavilion. one year later mccoy himself turned to acting and became one of the better western stars. in the wake of the covered wagon's enthusiastic reception, cruze's rep- utation as a director grew, and four years later he became, at seven thousand dollars per week, the highest paid director in the world, while the box-office value of the actors who had appeared in the film rose con- siderably, as well. the film inspired a number of other films, quite logi- cally, and omitting mention of the many “b” imitations, three major epics were made as a result of cruze's film, two of them made by para- mount again. north of ( ), a sequel to the covered wagon, directed by irvin willat, an old ince man, offered lois wilson and ernest torrence in their original roles, with jack holt replacing kerrigan to great advantage. the film had its success. cruze's own follow-up, in , was the pony express, a lavish affair with ricardo cortez, wallace beery, and betty compson (mrs. cruze) that was more or less ignored by the public; it had many of the faults of the western the covered wagon and few of its virtues. apart from a well-staged indian attack for its climax, there was little action and the film too often bogged down in romantic, political, and historical intrigue. cruze's own respect for historical accuracy provided the film with a further weak- ness in that the villain, jack slade, played by george bancroft, got away scot free despite a career of robbery and murder. nevertheless, the film was vastly superior to the slow-moving version with charlton heston. both north of and the pony express occasioned little comment, and they are generally ignored by historians. quite a different matter, how- ever, was the third epic film inspired by cruze's work: the iron horse, directed for fox in by john ford, when he was twenty-nine and had already made nearly fifty films, thirty-nine of them westerns which gave him a reputation as a shrewd director. he had always gone out of his way to secure first-class locations, his scripts were strong (sometimes in- corporating unusual elements of fantasy), and were written either by himself or by writers like jules furthman, later one of the most prolific of all screen writers, his credits to include the jane russell vehicle, the outlaw. prior to the iron horse, ford's longest film had been the seven-reel cameo kirby with john gilbert; and at two hours and forty minutes, the iron horse is still ford's longest film and his only real epic. for the statis- tically minded, the iron horse contained separate scenes and subtitles! ford was well schooled in the western field and, loving west- erns, he obviously saw in the iron horse an opportunity to make a western on a grand scale, and that is precisely what he did. of course it was an enormous spectacle depicting an inspiring event in a nation's progress, but it was, in fact, an expansion of his earlier, less important westerns-hitchin' posts, for example, which also contained elements of the epic with its spectacular sequences in the last reel of the cherokee strip land rush. in short, the iron horse was faster, much more exciting than the covered wagon, yet less of an event in film history. perhaps because he was able to lavish so much care, time, and money on the type of film most dear to him, the iron horse has remained ford's favorite-or at least it was in when he so stated in an interview. although the veteran director has also gone on record as disliking cer- tain of his films that critics consider among his best, most specifically, they were expendable, it is significant that ford should prefer the iron horse to the generally higher esteemed stagecoach ( ). the cast of the iron horse was particularly interesting. for his star he selected george o'brien, formerly an assistant cameraman with tom cameras prepare to shoot the fording of the river sequence for the covered wagon. mix, a stunt man who was actually better known as the son of san francisco's chief of police. he soon became one of the top western stars in both the silent and sound eras, directing ten films, in addition, and starring in eight of them. in one of his subsequent films ford introduced the team of george o'brien, janet gaynor, and margaret livingston, who were used im- mediately afterwards by murnau in his non-western poetic masterpiece, sunrise. fred kohler, who had been used by ford earlier in north of hudson bay, and who was really missing three fingers as called for in the script, was also cast, and subsequently became one of the best-known western villains of all time. george o'brien's brother jack had a promi- nent part, and madge bellamy made a good heroine. such ford reli- ables as j. farrell macdonald and chief big tree were also featured, and george wagner, who later became a leading writer-director, played buffalo bill. charles bull, cast as lincoln, was actually no actor at all, but a reno judge discovered by ford. francis powers, one of the comic leads, was a playwright rather than an actor. the film's subtitles were written by charles danton, then dramatic editor of the new york world. ford emulated cruze by shooting his film almost entirely on location, in the nevada desert. there was little or no studio work in the film; all of the cabin's interiors, for example, are authentic, with constant activity the western taking place outside the windows. apart from an obviously painted back- drop of a canyon, there were no artificial sets at all. it was a monumental undertaking, since there were more than five thousand extras and it re- quired almost one hundred cooks to feed them all. the unit built two complete towns, used a train of fifty-six coaches for transportation, issued a daily newspaper, and in general lived under the same conditions as had the original workers on the railroad. the huge cast lists a complete regiment of u. s. cavalry, three thousand railroad workers, one thousand chinese laborers, eight hundred pawnee, sioux, and cheyenne indians, two thousand horses, thirteen hundred buffaloes, and ten thousand head of cattle, thus providing enough "accessories” for an authentic segment of life in the old west. apart from the extensive use of outdoor locations, ford followed few of the precedents set by cruze and griffith in their earlier epics. cruze, for example, played down action sequences unless they were an essential part of the plot. in the covered wagon he used that old western stand-by, the heroine's runaway horse, only as a means to an end, in this case, to increase the hatred between the hero and the villain. the actual busi- ness of the runaway was handled in a single long shot, and was over in a matter of seconds. ford, on the other hand, passionately played every action sequence for all it was worth. the grandiose sequences of indian fighting in both films illuminate the two directors' widely differing approaches to identical problems. cruze's indian battle was staged on a massive canvas, yet it was sharp, concise, and almost underplayed in a documentary manner. once the camera shot a scene with a hundred charging indians, cruze was finished with them, and would move to something else. ford, instead, tim mccoy, not yet a player, was employed by director james cruze to handle the tribes of indians used in the covered wagon. here mccoy looks on as cruze presents a gift to one of the actors. the covered wagon and the iron horse deliberately constructed his action scenes so that they built steadily. his cameramen, george schneidermann and burnett guffey, photographed the same charge from half-a-dozen different angles, with variety in the action. he intercut with other footage, and slipped away from the vast battle panorama on which hundreds of indians were in the process of encircling the trapped locomotive (one of many of the finest and most exciting indian fighting sequences ever filmed) to scenes of the rescue party in another locomotive, or to a detachment of cavalry scouts gal- loping into the fray. another notable aspect of ford's battle scenes was his dynamic use of the moving camera. during the early twenties the camera for the most part remained largely stationary; a too mobile camera was regarded with suspicion as an "arty" european trick. throughout most of the iron horse, too, the camera is stationary, but during the action sequences ford loaded it on trucks, to the front of the locomotive, shooting from the top of the train. this technique permitted the groups of galloping riders to come into the camera's range simultaneously, effectively capturing in this way the rhythm of the action. the fluidity of this kind of camera work, plus the breathtaking effects of brilliant editing raised these great battle scenes to a pitch of magnificent excitement quite denied those in the covered wagon. these scenes in themselves fully justified the use of the term "epic" in connection with the iron horse, a memorable film indeed. in other ways, however, it deviated rather surprisingly from epic tradition. the central theme of a man hunting his father's murderer was a common theme of the “b” western (although it was also used in the big trail) and it frequently became more important than the construc- tion of the railroad itself. in addition, despite the historical framework, ford seemed to play down the factual aspects of the story. abraham lincoln was unnecessarily written into the narrative, primarily for the satisfaction of producer william fox, who for years had been deeply in- terested in lincoln and whose plan to present a biography of the six- teenth president on the screen had been shattered by a similar film from a competitor. unlike griffith, who accompanied all his historical tableaux with sub- titles giving exact dates, places, and other information, ford paid scant attention to the few historical events that he did recreate accurately. the famous track-laying race, which culminated in ten miles being laid in a single day, is presented without any reference to the fact that in it still constituted a record, and that, in the 's, vice president durant of the union pacific railroad had bet ten thousand dollars that it could john ford directs indians, including iron eyes cody, in the iron horse ( ). givi - not be done. yet ford went out of his way to obtain authentic props, or at least so fox's publicity agents claimed. the original trains "jupiter" and " ” are shown in the final sequence, for example; wild bill hickok's vest pocket derringer gun was used, and so was—although this sounds rather too much like a publicity story—the original stage- coach used by horace greeley. even george o'brien's horse, bullet, was selected because, having won the annual st. louis-to-san francisco race, it held the title of “champion pony express horse.” the iron horse still contains some of ford's best and most typical work, despite the number and quality of some of his later works. its weakest sections are its broad slapstick interludes, which represent the least suc- cessful ingredients in ford's westerns. there is little difference, for ex- ample, between the knockabout dentist sequence in the iron horse and the rough-house humor of the searchers which he made in . but photographically the iron horse is superb, with many shots now almost his trademark, the grouping of the indians on the crest of a hill, for example, or the small band of riders fading into the dusty sunset. though the iron horse did not duplicate the critical acclaim of the covered wagon, it enjoyed huge popular success in the united states, and it did earn the praise of governmental and educational bodies. one critic termed it “an american odyssey," a description that someone has ap- plied to almost every ford film since then, and in ford's oeuvre, it cer- tainly represents an extremely important film to which he gave both his enthusiasm and dedication. the iron horse had run for a year at the lyric in new york, fox was still taking no chances, and it was sold using three different advertising campaigns. one followed the epic pattern, exploiting erno rapee's orig- inal music, “the march of the iron horse," then very popular. the second campaign-for the women presumably-spoke of a non-existent triangle and promised “woman against woman in a romance of east and west, blazing the trail of love and civilization.” the third approach was to concentrate on o'brien, then being built into a top box-office name. “the george o'brien smile is spreading the spirit of happiness over the seven seas,” claimed one advertisement, while another offered: "he's not a sheik or a caveman or a lounge lizard—he is a man's man and an idol of women.” in any event, with o'brien, the music, and the full-length novel based on the film (not vice versa) to exploit, the film went on to top business in the united states, but inexplicably failed in great britain. paul rotha, the british critic, once attempted to explain this by claiming that the british had no sympathy for railroads being con- the covered wagon and the iron horse the track-laying race in the iron horse. the western structed across trackless wastes. to generalize, then, while in many ways a more interesting and certainly a more exciting film, the iron horse was less objective than the covered wagon and initially was less influential. cruze's film was imitated over and over again until the silent era ended, particularly in paramount's zane grey westerns; even then its influence continued, right through such sound films as the big trail, kit carson, california (a particularly loose remake of the covered wagon), and john ford's the wagonmaster. there were, of course, inherent technical problems to duplicating the iron horse. and yet, odd scenes in russia's documentary turksib and great britain's the great barrier (dealing with the construction of the canadian pacific railroad) suggested that many of ford's ideas had been noticed and appreciated. turksib, written and directed by victor turin, often had a special similarity visually, in panoramic scenes stressing the immensity of the open wilderness, and comparing it with the seemingly small locomotive challenging its right to remain a wilderness. and, as in the iron horse, turksib's climax was a race against time to finish the road. the cutting, however, was far more studied and complex than it had been in ford's film. ford's final race to complete the track in time was dramatic and convincing, but it was so much a foregone conclusion that the deadline would be met, that it did not generate the desired excitement. victor turin, in turksib, made his climactic race the highlight of the film, a rapidly cut montage in which dramatically brief subtitles were as im- portant as the images into which they were so skillfully cut. this form of editing, often done to excess in russian films merely be- cause it was expected from a school that had been evolved by eisenstein and pudovkin, enabled the climax of turksib to transcend completely the more immediate problem of the railroad's construction. the dramatic shots of the train almost jubilantly racing through the wilds towards its nearing destination, accompanied by such titles as “the line must be completed!” were stirring, and the audience must have felt itself called to serve the cause of national progress of every kind. so effective was this final sequence from several viewpoints that the film's final title, “and in the line was completed” (actually added after the completion of the railroad) seemed weak and anti-climatic. american epics, and particularly those built around railroads such as the iron horse and union pacific, have come to far less dramatically satisfying conclusions because they failed—even in the war years—to recognize a certain inherent dramatic potential; they did not draw on the nation's pride—and epics are peculiarly able to do this. both the iron horse and union pacific made the same mistake of treating the material purely historically, as a fait accompli. they approached the theme of national development as though the ultimate in progress had already been achieved. they looked back, respectfully, at the pioneers who had helped to bring that “ultimate” into being, but they did not see the continuing need for the pioneering spirit. there were traces of such a recognition that this spirit could still usefully exist in contem- porary america-in an occasional film like king vidor's our daily bread, but unfortunately never in the western, the genre most suited for an exposition along these lines. strangely, as the influence of the covered wagon began to wane in the late thirties, that of the iron horse grew. de mille's union pacific ( ), dealing with the construction of the same railroad, not only used a vaguely similar plot, but repeated many sequences intact. one episode, an indian attack on a supply train, even duplicated the composition and camera work of ford's film. in more recent times, the wagon train theme has not proven popular, while that of the railroad has gained in importance. kansas pacific, santa fe, canadian pacific, the denver and rio grande are among the films which utilized scenes or sequences originating in the iron horse. there have been many better westerns than the covered wagon and the iron horse, but none that were more influential on the whole structure of thought concerning the creative cinematic presentation of these and related aspects of the saga of the west. the covered wagon and the iron horse the twenties “during these years it was only the lowly western, made outdoors in natural surroundings by force of restricted budgets as well as story necessity, that kept alive a tradition of using real backgrounds and props and some simple, natural incidents." despite the tremendous success and influence of the covered wagon and the iron horse, the immediate result was not a cycle of epics. ford waited two years before he made his next large-scale western, three bad men. based on herman whittaker's novel over the border (it is often erroneously confused with peter b. kyne's three godfathers, a story that has been filmed several times), it was a sentimental western distinguished by a magnificently staged land rush sequence. harrison's reports, a trade publication, noted at the time “... from a production point of view, ‘three bad men'comes up to the standard of 'the covered wagon'; in some respects it even surpasses it. in the history of the picture business, in fact, there has never been a picture in which such an array of prairie schooners has been used.” harrison's reports was a publication for ex- hibitors with only two functions: it editori- alized against unfair producer-distributor tactics, and it provided the exhibitor with detailed descriptions of film plots and, to a lesser degree, merits. it is invaluable as a ref- erence in terms of plot material; less reliable for its critical opinions, since, in order to be impartial, it had several reviewers turn in opinions which were then welded into one review by a writer who had not seen the film. however, three bad men had many of the flaws of dramatic construction that marred the iron horse, and it did not repeat its suc- cess. apart from the pony express, james cruze made no further western epics. the ernest callenbach other prestige directors of the time—d. w. griffith, king vidor, cecil b. de mille—showed no apparent interest in tackling western themes. as we shall see, the newly popularized epic western made little head- way in terms of quantity production, but did serve to stimulate a tre- mendous upsurge in both the quality and quantity of “b” westerns. the western the assembly line begins prior to the covered wagon, the average “b” western had been influenced more by w. s. hart than by tom mix. this was partially due to the fact that it was easier to copy a style, such as hart's austerity, than a man of the personality and prowess of mix. thus, even little westerns like aywon's another man's boots ( ) were patent copies of hart; another man's boots, in particular, seemed a blatant plagiarism of hart's square deal sanderson of a year or two earlier. the plot was lifted intact from the hart film, and star francis ford closely followed hart's acting style, with its reliance on facial close-ups in scenes involving the hero's romantic suffering at the hands of the heroine. a minor comic vein, pitched to reflect contemporary american viewpoints (there was a bar- room gag kidding prohibition; another on the trend of thought that a man's wearing of a wristwatch was a sign of effeminacy) alleviated the austerity of another man's boots, and differentiated it from hart's film. another man's boots was a well-made little western, but typical of so many “b” westerns prior to the covered wagon-cheaply made, and resigned to the proposition that the “b” western was and always would be mired in a fairly unimportant rut. with the western so much back in favor after the success of the covered wagon, and apart from the general “streamlining” of smaller westerns and the granting of slightly higher budgets to them, the next event in the history of western movies was the development of a whole new crop of western stars, some of whom, like hoot gibson, were promoted from two-reelers. gibson's short westerns for universal had ken maynard menaced by that familiar heavy, charles king, in between fighting men. the twenties been of a “folksy” variety not unlike the old mix shorts for selig. how- ever, they were much more carefully made and, though limited in action, were lightheartedly humorous. gibson was quite able to take care of any action that came his way, and the format he created in his shorts was so successful that, for the most part, he retained it in his features. other stars, like ken maynard and bob steele, were launched with less back- ground training into starring vehicles. maynard had made an impression as paul revere in the marion davies production janice meredith, and he was immediately thereafter signed for a series of independent westerns. steele, the son of director robert n. bradbury, appeared in his father's picture, with sitting bull at the spirit lake massacre, under the name of bob bradbury, jr., and soon thereafter was given his own series at fbo. a dozen other western stars emerged in this period, from tom tyler to jack perrin; the latter, a former triangle and sennett extra, had appeared in straight dramatic roles in erich von stroheim's blind hus- bands and other pictures, making little impression until he began mak- ing westerns. he and other stars of the period will be considered later in the chapter at greater length. it should be remembered that in the twenties the double-bill was virtually unknown, and therefore even the “b” western, supported only by a comedy short and the newsreel, had to draw an audience. initially, at least, this sudden increase in the production of small westerns estab- lished and maintained a surprisingly high standard, but as their mass production continued, and increased, the inevitable decline set in. this decline was brought about not by a decline in the quality of films made by the major companies—for mgm and first national in particular brought real production value and creativity to their westerns—but by the entry into the field of hordes of opportunistic independent producers working with meager budgets and generally second-rate talent. the weiss brothers fell into this category. through their artclass productions, they offered buddy roosevelt, wally wales, and buffalo bill, jr., in eight westerns apiece. the weiss brothers had already then developed to a fine art the business of making films with the least pos- sible outlay; as recently as they issued a “new” film called the white gorilla, which was literally eighty percent stock shots from a silent serial, perils of the jungle. another independent, anchor distributors, offered al hoxie in eight of the cheapest and worst westerns ever made, the ace of clubs setting some kind of record for pointless boredom, and eight more with bob reeves. hoxie and reeves achieved little stature even in this short period, and were quickly forgotten. the western supplementing their eight ken maynard films, the davis corporation made eight with ben wilson and neva gerber, a once-popular serial team that had fallen from favor, and no less than fifteen westerns per year with al ferguson, an unattractive-looking fellow who normally specialized in villains' roles. sierra pictures presented a series of six westerns with al richmond, six with bob burns, and six two-reelers with fred hawk, while a group of two-reel westerns—these with a comic edge -starred bill patton and were directed by al herman for the tennek film corporation. but that was not all: ruth mix, tom's daughter, billed as “a chip off the old block,” much to tom's annoyance, made a group of cowgirl westerns that tried to recapture atmosphere of the early mix films by stressing elaborate stunt work and trick riding. from her first film, that girl oklahoma, ruth mix went on to a lively, if not spectacular career that lasted some ten years. two lesser figures, art mix (a very distant relation of tom's) and bill mix (no relation at all), dressed like the original and were billed as his brothers until the courts forced them to desist; neither of them made much of an impression on western audiences, and art mix, a very short man, with a most un- heroic appearance, soon drifted into villains' roles. bill cody westerns were released through pathé; fbo launched buzz barton, a child star, as a novelty western star along with their other featured players who, at one time or another in the twenties, included bob steele, tom tyler (teamed with frankie darro), tom mix, fred thomson, and bob custer. rayart, forerunner of monogram, had producer harry webb turning out jack perrin westerns like clockwork, and supplemented these by a lesser series starring pawnee bill, jr., and the rayart rough riders. slightly better were a group of alleged historical westerns produced by anthony j. xydias for sunset productions: with buffalo bill on the u. p. trail, with custer at the little big horn, with sitting bull at the spirit lake massacre. they were competent in their way, but fell far short of their potential. strong casts (roy stewart, edmund cobb, bryant washburn, william desmond), good camera work, and interesting plots had the audience anxiously awaiting large-scale climaxes, the kind not available in a stock-shot library, but small budgets ruled out any effec- tive alternative, and so the grand climaxes never materialized. the long-awaited massacre in with sitting bull at the spirit lake massacre consists of a handful of indians running into the attack; bob steele rides to a cavalry outpost to bring back the troops for a pitched battle only to be told by a lone sentry that all the troops left that morning! the film grinds to a frustrating close, with the hero realizing that nothing can be the western way in the hart tradition: harry carey and buck jones. in actual fact, carey's taciturn characterization predates hart's in that he was active in early biograph westerns for griffith. perhaps partly because his leathery and non-youthful appearance so dictated, carey avoided the "streamlined” westerns that maynard, gibson, and fred thomson made so popular. his were always westerns of the old school, sometimes a little slow on action, but always strong on plot, with a definite sign of hart's influence. carey's satan town, for example, was a very creditable lesser hell's hinges. respect for womanhood was a staple ingredient with carey, and in the prairie pirate, a good carey film for hunt stromberg in , this extended to another typical hart plot moti- vation—the death of the hero's sister (she commits suicide when threat- ened with rape by the villain) and the tracking down of the man responsible. both hart and carey had almost victorian streaks con- cerning their heroines, who were always shown as symbols of helpless- ness and purity, to be protected and loved only remotely, until events had proven the heroes thoroughly worthy of them. carey's pictures were certainly stronger in story content than those of his contemporaries, but significantly he was never as popular as either ken maynard or hoot gibson. buck jones somewhat resembled hart in both facial characteristics and in his realistic dress, but there the similarity ended. fox used him in a series designed as a second-string group to reflect the formats laid down by the fabulously successful mix westerns. “second-string” in this instance does not mean second-rate, for the jones westerns were good ones, backed by solid production values, although more concerned with showmanship and lively action than with creating a realistic pic- ture of the west. only in his personal performance, underplayed and rugged, and in his clothing, far less gaudy and flamboyant than the outfits worn by mix, did jones follow the hart line. as in the mix films, the jones westerns were split evenly between straightforward action pictures and light westerns with a marked comic content. he seems to have been impressed with comedy's value, for, hoot gibson apart, he was the only western star to really stress comedy featuring himself rather than the “official” comedian who afflicted so many “b” westerns. the comic content in jones' fox westerns of the twenties was generally on a fairly high level, but in the thirties jones injected a surprising amount of “hick” comedy into his pictures. however, even this was used with some discretion, and it never interfered with plot or action. typical of the jones films with a pronounced comic content were the gentle cyclone, directed in by w. s. van dyke, with buck acting as the twenties mediator between the heroine's two perennially scrapping uncles, and the cowboy and the countess, made in the same year. this last film opened on a luxury liner with jones and his western cohorts en route to europe. of course, there was a good deal of comedy built around the situation of the western cowboy in high society; one of the best gags had the west- erners puzzled by the liner's menu. unable to understand the foreign language, they were forced to draw pictures to describe what they wanted to eat. much of the action took place in europe, with the heroine's father attempting to marry her off to a rascally nobleman to whom he has financial obligations. along far more traditional lines and full of first-rate riding and other stunts by jones were good as gold, directed in by scott r. dunlap, and timber wolf, set in a lumber camp. jones is a fighting lumber boss who forcibly abducts the heroine to prevent her from marrying the vil- lain, who is both the proprietor of the local dance hall and a bootlegger. his intention, of course, is first to "tame” her and then to marry her. despite the tradition of the western hero as a man who naturally re- spects womanhood, the theme of the heroine's forcible abduction by the hero, and his “taming” of her, was quite popular in the twenties. its watered-down remnants persisted until the thirties, but its implications varied. the moral difficulties were overcome by having the hero appointed either the heroine's guardian or the custodian of her estate. conflict then had a legal basis, as he sought to prevent her from selling the ranch, or refused her permission to marry the villain. in these cases, sympathy was very much on the side of the hero, since the heroine was invariably presented as a headstrong heiress who very much needed taming. fred thomson after mix, fred thomson was possibly the most popular western star of the twenties. he was well liked not only because his films maintained high standards, but also because his blameless off-screen life and his rep- utation as a former minister earned him the respect and support of even those moviegoers apathetic to westerns at a time when hollywood's morals were constantly under fire. he was a first-rate acrobat, and his slick films for fbo were little more than western equivalents of the stunt- ing adventures made by richard talmadge for the same company. these westerns were lively, full of fun and action quite obviously de- signed to please the youngsters; many, such as a regular scout in which thomson boosted the cause of the boy scouts, had a definitely salutary escape by making a spectacular leap from a moving freight train, and return to win the race on schedule. tremendously exciting and well made though they were, logic and conviction were frequently abandoned in these films. thundering hoofs, for instance, contained one of the most "epochal” moments in any western. the sagacious silver king has just found the body of the hero's father; a title informs us that "silver king had one last duty to perform,” and then fades into a beautifully back- lit scene of the stallion reverently tapping the top of an immaculately constructed grave. not only does it have a neat cross at its head, but a jar of flowers as well ... and the implication certainly is that silver king did it all himself! thundering hoofs also had a humorous sequence in the style of douglas fairbanks: thomson, calling on the heroine, is pursued over the hacienda by an irate father and jealous suitor, and escapes by swinging from chandeliers, hanging on vines, climbing up walls, and the the twenties fred thomson and ann may in thunder- ing hoofs ( ). arage lden. es repairs it a chase across rooftops was a ken may- nard film specialty. from the wagon show ( ). like. the rest of the film was up to the high standards of action in thomson's westerns, with a beautifully cut and photographed runaway stagecoach episode, and a fine climax in which fred, jailed by the vil- lain, makes a spectacular escape, finds his way to the bullring, and ar- rives just in time to battle a bull with his bare hands to save silver king from being gored to death. thomson's fbo westerns were all beautifully mounted films, expertly staged, and excellently photographed. many of the scripts were by marion jackson, who was married to thomson. following his fbo period, thomson moved to paramount to make some large westerns presumably intended to replace those of bill hart. jesse james, directed by lloyd ingraham, whitewashed the old outlaw even more than did the tyrone power version of ; no bank robberies of any kind are shown, and in fact the only crime that jesse commits in the entire film is a mild stagecoach holdup! undoubtedly, the film was intended more as a thomson vehicle than as an authentic historical western, and yet, it had its fine moments, particularly several spectacular civil war bat- tle scenes early on in the film. it was the first thomson western in which he died at the end, and ironically, it was to be his last film. he died shortly afterwards, at the end of the silent era. the western ken maynard ken maynard's rise to popularity roughly paralleled thomson's. after his debut in janice meredith, maynard made a series of cheap westerns for the davis corporation, films like the grey vulture. these were inexpensive but entertaining, with plenty of stunting action for maynard, and a tendency to rather bizarre comedy. one film opened with a long sequence in which maynard dreamed that he was one of king arthur's knights; another had a long “bathing beauty” interlude. these films were later reassembled into a none-too-cohesive serial entitled the range fighter. maynard really came into his own, however, upon joining first national in . he was put into a quality series begin- ning with senor daredevil. by no means “b” pictures, these were seven- reelers, and often spectacular in their action content. as harrison's re- ports commented, in reviewing senor daredevil: “if the subsequent westerns which first national has announced with this star will con- tain only one-half the entertainment that 'senor daredevil' possesses, those who buy them will have nothing to worry about ... it is an ex- ceptionally good western ... has a story that is entirely different from those seen in the past ... thrills aplenty ... mr. maynard is a wonder- ful rider who displays his horsemanship frequently." the twenties senor daredevil had for its climax a spectacular sequence of maynard racing a food convoy of wagons to a town starved and besieged by vil- lains. one or two critics compared this sequence with the chariot race in ben hur for the excitement it generated, and this is not hard to believe; although this particular western is not now available for reap- praisal, other first national maynard films are, and the red raiders, in particular, confirms that the praise for senor daredevil was probably more than justified. directed by al rogell and produced under the supervision of harry joe brown (who later teamed with randoph scott on a number of westerns in the forties and fifties), the red raiders is a particularly illuminating example of the really slick and well-made westerns of the twenties. aside from consideration of the stars involved, the red raiders is quite as big a picture as stagecoach and other epics. the action is staged on a massive scale, and the entire picture seems dedicated to the propo- sition that action matters far more than plot. (this was not typical of maynard's first national group, which was usually strong in the scenario department, too.) indeed, there really is no plot to the red raiders, merely a situation (indians being led on the warpath by a hotheaded chief dedicated to wiping out the cavalry), and no real villainy. the film has no white “heavies” and the indians are presented merely collec- tively as the motivated villains of the piece, although they are presented sympathetically and as human beings, a comparatively rare note in the twenties, midway between ince's the heart of an indian and daves' broken arrow. the subtitles, incidentally, present several little footnotes to indian lore, and introduce one of the indian players as white man- runs him, last surviving participant in the little big horn battle. the red raiders is both a showcase for ken maynard's amazing riding skill, and for the use of the running insert. few westerns have used the riding close-up as consistently-and as dramatically-as did this picture, and its effectiveness is doubly apparent when the red raiders is contrasted with such other silent westerns as another man's boots, or such “talkies” as man from the black hills, in which not a single running insert is used. the camera work on the red raiders was that of sol polito (later one of warners' top cameramen on errol flynn and bette davis sound films); the running inserts were shot from a camera car sometimes carrying as many as four bell and howell or mitchell cameras. as well as being used for really close work (maynard's riding, and one tricky stunt in par- ticular where a wounded man is being dragged in the dust by his gal- loping horse, and maynard, hanging precariously backwards out of his own saddle, swooping the man up-this being shot in such extreme close-up that the shadow of the cameraman was visible briefly) the run- ning inserts were used to tremendously dramatic and spectacular effect in long, panoramic shots of the large-scaled action. the indians charg- ing, and a mad stampede of covered wagons, were rendered all the more exciting by the camera's extreme mobility. one of the most effec- tive shots was an extreme long shot of the troop of cavalry appearing on the crest of a hill; the men and horses race down the slope onto a flat plain, and string themselves out into a long line for the charge. as this gets under way, and the riders near the camera, the camera itself be- gins to move, tracking rapidly backwards, but moving slightly slower than the cavalry troop, which eventually thunders right "into” the camera. creative photography of this type was at its peak in the west- erns of the twenties, and never more so than in the ken maynard series for first national. other new stars hoot gibson, who combined comedy and modern story lines in his very popular universal west- erns of the twenties. the hoot gibson features for universal were quite different, but they were also “streamlined.” they were light on action and heavy on ban- tering comedy, and yet fairly realistic in style. the texas streak, written and directed by lynn reynolds, was an enjoyable comedy-action western with gibson playing a hollywood extra stranded in the west. he overcomes some rather mild villainy, and is rewarded with a real hollywood contract. painted ponies had rather more action and stunts than was usual in gibson films, which was due in all likelihood to the direction of reeves eason. others, the man in the saddle, for example, went sadly overboard on comic content. occasionally universal put gibson into a "special” and afforded him much better material. one such film was the flaming frontier, a spectacular account of custer's “last stand” at little big horn. the political and historical back- grounds were sketched in with general accuracy, and the battle scenes staged on a lavish scale. dustin farnum, as custer, appeared in support of gibson, and edward sedgwick directed. another universal western star was jack hoxie, who had started out in straight roles under the name of hartford hoxie in such films as the dumb girl of portici. however, he remained in vogue only briefly. he was a beefy, amiable cowboy, athletic enough, but rather a poor actor. his films made a point of stressing the collaboration he got from two four- footed associates: his horse and his dog. this element, no doubt, contrib- uted to his popularity among youngsters. before his universal westerns, hoxie made a cheap but interesting series of pictures for independent producer anthony j. xydias. rather light in action, they were enjoy- the western falls in love. he discovers that his father has been held prisoner for twelve years by the outlaw for having refused to reveal the hiding place of the treasure. thinking that this time he will talk, the villains flog his son before him. but steele breaks loose and holds the outlaws at bay. the outlaw leader agrees to free steele and allow his father and the girl to go with him if steele can beat one of the bandits in a fist fight. steele agrees to fight, wins, and leaves. but the outlaws renege and go in pursuit. in order to keep his word, their leader explodes a dynamite charge on the trail, killing himself and all but three of the gang. these keep up the pursuit of our hero, but are ultimately killed. finally, hero marries heroine, and the long-lost father and his wife are reunited. robert n. bradbury was responsible for the excellent direction; based on a story by oliver drake, the mojave kid was excellent material of its type. fbo had one other highly popular series, starring buzz barton. in reviewing the first of the group, the boy rider directed by louis king, harrison's reports had this to say: “thirteen year old wizard buzz barton ... is a miniature tom mix, ken maynard and fred thomson all in one. he can ride almost as well as any of these players, can throw a lariat as well, and has a winning smile . . . and he can act. he will capture the child custom first, and the child custom will attract the adult afterwards." barton's series started late in , just before “b” westerns went into a temporary eclipse due to the coming of sound movies. his second west- ern, the singleshot kid (like the first, directed by louis king and written by oliver drake), was as good as the first; the third, wizard of the saddle, only slightly inferior. barton arrived on the scene a little too late to make a really big impression, but he remained active in westerns through the thirties, principally playing in support of rex bell and francis x. bushman, jr. the fine tim mccoy westerns for mgm were not the star vehicles other cowboy players made in this period. for the most part they were fictionalized re-creations of various phases of american frontier history; lavishly produced, they were almost all directed by either w. s. van dyke or reginald barker. but surprisingly, the russian director tourjansky made one of them. winners of the wilderness was perhaps the most elabo- rate of the group. it dealt with pre-revolutionary days when the canadian french plotted to conquer the ohio; mccoy was cast as an irish officer in the british army. one of the highlights of the film was a spectacular attack on a french fort by british troops headed by general braddock, and their defeat at the hands of the french and their indian allies. in california, the conflict between the united states and mexico the twenties in was taken up, after which california was added to the union. again, there were some truly spectacular battle scenes, most notably in the ambush of general kearney's command by the mexican army. war paint and the law of the range (with joan crawford) had more conven- tional plot-lines, but the frontiersman reverted to the historical format in a story dealing with andrew jackson's attempt to suppress the creek indian uprisings. these mgm westerns with mccoy were on an even larger scale than were the maynard films for first national, although they were more pretentious and generally slower paced, with occasional long stretches between their action highlights. universal's pete morrison westerns of the twenties have been strangely forgotten, and yet, although short (usually under five thousand feet) and made cheaply, they were often quite fresh and unusual, particularly in the plots. blue blazes, for example, had a typical “city mystery” plot: an eastern financier is murdered, and his money disappears. twenty years later his granddaughter goes west on a slender clue, hoping to avenge the murder and recover the money. the mystery comes to a thrilling climax with a cloudburst swelling the river and deluging a mountain cabin. another first-class pete morrison western, triple action, featured some good stunting acrobatics. among the most enjoyable westerns of the twenties were those with canine stars. rin tin tin was the undisputed monarch of this realm, of course, but most studios had their own dog stars, ranging from peter the great, napoleon bonaparte, and strongheart, down to universal's rather moth-eaten imitation of rinty, dynamite. (dynamite appeared with edmund cobb in some uneven universal westerns, of which wolf's trail was probably the best, and fangs of destiny the weakest.) rinty was more than just a well-trained dog and a beautiful animal; he was an actor. overblown as that statement may seem, it is nevertheless true, as almost any scene in the night cry will prove. rinty's acting ability grew with each picture, many of which were westerns. in his early films (where the north begins, for example) there were several scenes in which he stared at the camera, waited for his instructions, and then went through his paces. not so in his later pictures; rinty now knew exactly what to do, and did it faultlessly. he had a way of running into a situa- tion, “sizing it up," and then, having decided on the wisest course of action, following it. all of the later rin tin tin films had at least one situation in which he had to emote, to rely entirely on facial expressions, rather than on cute action. in the night cry there was a sequence in which rinty, suspected of killing sheep, returns forlornly to his master's cabin. he puts his head on the table between his master (john harron) and mis- the western tress (june marlowe), and in a single take, expresses hope, grief, tolerance, and finally joy, when at least one friend is found in the person of the couple's baby. rin tin tin's writers were forever dreaming up dramatic dilemmas such as this one for the canine star—and he always played them to the hilt. his films represented great income for warners, helping more than once to pay off the losses on the costly prestige films with john barry- more, much as tom mix helped pay off the mortgage at fox. they were also something of a phenomenon: they were cheaply made, and often so naïve that they seemed at least twenty years behind the times, and yet so well directed (by chester franklin, howard bretherton, mal st. clair, herman raymaker, and others) and so well photographed (edwin du par did some fine work in the night cry) that their primitive plots were accepted almost casually. delightful in the rin tin tin films were the very human problems requiring instantaneous decisions facing the dog. in tracked by the police he has to choose between saving his canine friend nanette (trussed up in chains and tossed into the torrent by the villains) or rescuing the heroine, who, temporarily blinded, is hanging precariously from a crane that dangles over a sabotaged dam. he de- cides in favor of his human friend, but by sagaciously working compli- cated levers and mechanisms, he brings the flood waters under control and both females are saved! rinty always played his big dramatic scenes as if his life depended on it. in where the north begins, a particularly successful film from every standpoint, he fights off the villain while a baby is taken to safety by her nurse. when the baby's mother returns, she finds only rinty, and a part of the baby's clothing that has somehow become soaked with the villain's blood. naturally rinty is suspected of the worst, and clears himself only after several reels of self-torment and sagacious detective work. another good one, a hero of the big snows (like the night cry, di- rected by herman raymaker), presented rinty with an almost identical situation, and in addition had him rehabilitate the disillusioned hero who, as a reviewer of put it, “... neglected not only his appear- ance but also his home, until rin tin tin, who was unwilling to live in a dirty hole, made him feel ashamed of himself, forcing him to give the house a thorough cleaning and make himself look presentable.” rin tin tin's importance should not be underestimated. many film histo- rians never even mention rinty, only because they have never seen him, and consider his films outside the scope of film history. nothing could be further from the truth. rin tin tin was as good a western star, in his own way, as any of them, and a good deal more intelligent than some. rin tin tin, having disposed of the badmen, turns the switch that will stop the sabotage they have wrought on a massive dam project. from tracked by the police ( ). directors william wyler and william k. howard the early twenties, more notable for their creation of western stars than directors, did witness, however, some very notable directors emerg- ing from the ranks of the horse operas. william wyler served his apprenticeship with universal's westerns, starting in . he had come to america in , joined universal's new york office, and shortly thereafter moved to the coast to specialize in foreign publicity work. in he had been one of several assistant directors on the hunchback of notre dame. although by , universal had a regular schedule of western features, starring harry carey, hoot gibson, art acord, and others, they still maintained their output of two-reel west- erns, not least as a training ground for stars and directors who seemed possibilities for upgrading to feature work. wyler's first was crook buster, released late in . from that year on, universal's western shorts were known as mustangs, and between and , when they finished, some of them were made. fast-paced and well mounted, they were made in three days, and cost only a little over two thousand dollars each. wyler directed twenty of this series, others being handled by ray taylor and vin moore, among others. one of them, ridin' for love, was also written by wyler, the only time he has ever taken a script the bank hold-up. miner's bank enic cit vbs platon . -t: univerra l indi ola ku ac pirst > le ws the western credit. among wyler's interesting two-reel films were the fire barrier, marked by a spectacular forest fire climax which was, in all probability, stock footage from some more ambitious film; the ore raiders, rated by reviewers as one of wyler's best and most action-packed films; and daze of the west, wyler's last mustang short. written by billy engle, it was a satirical western, and presumably wyler's first encounter with comedy. paralleling the mustangs, were the blue streak westerns. wyler directed five of fifty-three, the others being handled by cliff smith, albert rogell, and dell henderson. these were generally short and snappy, five reels being their official length, usually something less than five thousand feet. lazy lightning, starring art acord, and released in december, , was wyler's first feature. the border cavalier starred fred humes, and was wyler's last blue streak western, but by no means his last western for universal. thereafter they referred to their westerns as an “adventure series,” heralded by the symbol of a stam- peding elephant. wyler's work in this new group included ted wells' first picture, straight shootin', a film with some effective comic moments, and desert dust, another wells vehicle which placed more emphasis than usual on the romantic element. reviewers generally agreed that thunder riders, wyler's last “b” western, was rather inferior, but none of the universal westerns (apart from the specials with hoot gibson and oc- casionally jack hoxie) drew especially enthusiastic comment, for, in comparison with the slicker mix pictures and the fine fbo releases, they seemed rather too standardized. wyler was to make only three more westerns in his career (up to ): hell's heroes ( ), the westerner ( ), and the big country ( ). next to wyler and ford the most interesting directorial talent to emerge from westerns in the period was that of william k. howard, who did not specialize exclusively in westerns in his early years. for some reason, all trade biographies give howard's first film as east of broadway ( ). actually, by then he had already made nine pictures, with a marked stress on action and melodrama. some lively richard talmadge stunt thrillers were among them. of these nine pictures, one was a particularly pleasing western: captain fly by night ( ). based on a story by johnston mcculley, it was a rather obvious attempt to cash in on the success of fairbanks' the mark of zorro (also, of course, written by mcculley) and quite imitative in places. the picture moved fast, and was extremely well photographed and edited; howard was a dynamic visual director and even when his plot material was negligible, he held interest with the excellence of his camera work: shots were well composed, the angles were well conceived, and intelligent use was made of the moving camera. famous players-lasky signed howard late in for a number of pictures, the most ambitious of which was volcano. too lurid to be suited to howard's taut, realistic style, and marred by some unconvincing special effects, it was not a particularly good film. far more successful were four large-scale westerns in the studio's zane grey series: the border legion, the thundering herd, the code of the west, and light of the western stars. the best of these was the thundering herd, starring jack holt, tim mccoy, and noah beery, and featuring as its climax a spectacularly staged stampede of covered wagons across a frozen lake. light of the western stars, again with holt, was also good with a suspenseful second half more than compensating for a slow begin- ning. the climactic situation in which the hero is permitted to walk the streets unarmed, prevented from escaping by the presence of the villain's men, and knowing that he will be killed at sundown unless ransom money arrives by then, was a natural for howard's melodramatic flair. when cecil b. de mille formed his own production company, shortly thereafter, howard joined him. having made three rod la rocque vehicles, howard wrote and directed the picture that has since been re- garded as one of the greatest films for the silent period, and a most nota- ble western: white gold ( ). it is unfortunate that the film is not available for revaluation. no prints have survived in the united states, while only one is known to be held in france, and the negative is no longer in existence. white gold (the title refers to wool) had a western set- ting, but its story—that of a mexican dancer who marries and goes to live the twenties william k. howard, who made several high-grade westerns in the twenties, directs noah beery in a scene from the thundering herd ( ). the western on a lonely sheep ranch, with its strange, stylized treatment of sex and jealousy-far removed it from the category of the average horse opera. although based on a play by j. palmer parsons, it was almost an orig- inal creation, written and conceived in visual and nonstatic style by howard. there were only five people in the cast, with jetta goudal, kenneth thomson, and george bancroft forming the triangle. the re- views were unanimous raves, and even harrison's reports, inclined to be overly critical of films that were judged by exhibitors as being too artistic to be commercial (greed, potemkin, and metropolis were all found wanting on one score or another by the publication), was unstinting in its praise: “from the standpoint of production, scenario construction, directing and acting, ‘white gold' compares most favorably with the best german films that have been brought to america. the production style is of the same order as 'the last laugh.' deeper psychology is revealed in this film than in any other ever produced in america.” the producers distributing corporation made every effort to sell the film, to both exhibitors and the public, but unforunately white gold turned out to be a resounding box-office flop. despite this, the film was not without influence. victor sjostrom's powerful the wind, starring lillian gish and lars hanson, made in , was remarkably similar in many respects, although far less studio-bound. it contained one of lillian gish's finest performances as the city wife who almost goes mad from the loneliness of life on a small western ranch. the melodrama of white gold was repeated in the situation of a lecherous neighbor (mon- tague love) who attempts to seduce the wife. terrified, she kills him in self-defense, and tries to bury him during a fierce sandstorm. there is a strikingly macabre moment when the fury of the wind whips the sand from the shallow grave, revealing the rigid corpse lying below. as in so many films of the period there was no code-enforced “moral compensa- tion” for the justified homicide, and the conclusion had the wife finally adjusted to a life in the wilderness, reconciled with her husband. far more surprising evidence of the influence of white gold can be found in one of universal's “adventure series,” wild blood, produced early in . director henry macrae and cameraman george robinson took a story that already had elements of white gold in it (the bored west- ern girl, tired of drudgery, is prepared to sell herself to the villain merely to get to the excitement of the city) and gave it a strangely stylized visual treatment. there were a preponderance of moving camera work, an interesting dream effect utilizing a rocking camera and split-screen, and other visual devices whose direct inspiration was both white gold and the german cinema. the twenties other aspects of the twenties two films that should not be forgotten were the round up, an interesting western satire with roscoe “fatty” arbuckle, and the last of the mohi- cans. this last film was perhaps not thoroughly “western,” but so essentially american-frontier in its spirit that it deserves a mention. it was made by the brilliant french director maurice tourneur who was responsible for some of the most visually exquisite films turned out in the united states between and the end of the silent era. even in the early days, tourneur's breath-taking compositions never dominated plot or action: his pictures moved, and their action was staged on a spectacular scale. tourneur's version of the last of the mohicans was by far the best of the many versions of this james fenimore cooper tale. by , universal was probably the most active western production company. one of the biggest hits of the year was douglas fairbanks' the mark of zorro, his first real costume picture, but one in which he re- tained the economy, sense of fun, and lively tempo that had marked his earlier pictures. the year was probably the industry's most prolific year “outdoors,” with westerns of every size and type, ranging from mgm's the great divide with conway tearle, alice terry, and wallace beery, to associated-exhibitors' twisted triggers with wally wales. petite, charming betty bronson-sadly wasted by paramount since her captivating performance in peter pan-lent distinction to a rather loosely constructed but otherwise interesting western, the golden princess, di- rected by clarence badger. hal roach's series with rex, king of the wild horses, included black cyclone, with guinn “big boy” williams as the hero; some neat special effects-stop-motion work using models, manipulated much as were the monsters in king kong-produced an unusual sequence in which a wild horse fought a mountain lion. buster keaton made a sadly dis- appointing western satire in go west, although the opening reel was hilarious. thereafter, it declined into uninspired imitation-sennett slap- stick and, although amusing, was far below keaton's standards. first national filmed their version of custer's “last stand,” in a nine- reel picture entitled the scarlet west. clara bow and johnnie walker were co-starred with robert frazer, cast as an indian who has been edu- cated in a white school, and is an officer in the american army. the reawakening of interest in the indian as a western hero was carried a step further in paramount’s the vanishing american. since this film is not at present available for re-examination, reprinted here is an original re- view of the film by harrison's reports: nis faith in the white schoolteacher (lois wilson) of the indian nildren, who is both kind and sympathetic. when war is declared, naphaie and other indians join the colors, proud to serve as americans. in france they acquit themselves honorably, but only a handful return from the savage fighting with the germans. when naphaie and his fol- lowers reach their home again, they find brooks (noah beery), a thief and a murderer, installed as the indian agent, their homes confiscated by him, and their women and children forced to live as best as they can in the desert. the indians revolt, but just as they are about to attack the whites, naphaie tells them that the schoolteacher has just returned from washington with the news that brooks has been discharged. the indians surround the blockhouse in which brooks is holding them at bay with a machine gun. he is killed by a well-aimed indian arrow. but in the fighting, naphaie, who has been trying to stop the carnage, is shot down by a stray bullet. bidding his people to obey the government, he dies, the brave son of a disappearing race. the twenties the zane grey tradition while there undoubtedly was a grey tradition in literature, there was no clear-cut transference of that tradition to westerns in general or buster keaton, defeated by the mechanics of city life, is equally defeated by the vastness of the west. from go west ( ). the western even to those adapted from his works; certainly not in the sense that there is a william s. hart tradition or a john ford tradition. when one looks for a reasonably realistic, as well as entertaining literary pic- ture of american crime and underworld life, one may turn to an author like dashiel hammett. yet edgar wallace and s. s. van dine are more readily associated with the accepted—and more colorful-notions of crime. so it was with zane grey. grey didn't create a tradition; he ex- ploited one already existing, cunningly manipulating plots and charac- ters so that he never seemed to descend to cliché. he deliberately gave his characters odd, hard-to-pronounce names like dismukes in riders of the purple sage and guerd larey in wanderer of the wasteland; he rounded out his plots with so many characters and so many ramifications that traditional action, though well represented, seemed almost incidental. any evaluation of grey's worth as a writer lies outside the scope of this history, but it is reasonable to state that his prolific output represents good solid commercial writing, on a slightly higher level than clarence e. mulford and w. c. tuttle admittedly, but commercial nonetheless. the vanishing american apart, none of grey's novels were ever made into really important movies, while the less publicized work of a. b. guthrie and james warner bellah has formed the basis for many outstanding westerns. the grey “tradition” is rather a veneer than anything radically new in style or content, and thus there is no common denominator for the filmed works of grey—unless it is a more pronounced emphasis on plot and character. because of the popularity of grey's novels, an attempt was made to retain the values of his stories rather more than in the case of other writers. the four versions of riders of the purple sage ( , , , ) deviated but little from one another. surprisingly, the third version made in the forties was the best, perhaps because in the earlier adaptations, the ebullient personalities of tom mix and george o'brien seemed somewhat at odds with grey's rather grim, revenge-seeking hero. the final version was used to introduce a new western star (george montgomery) who had no previously established screen personality to overcome. grey "tradition” varied from company to company, too; at rko the trend was to slick, polished little westerns, and thus the grey works were either selected for their conventional action content, as in nevada, or rewritten to conform to a less austere pattern as in west of the pecos and sunset pass. fox always had to bear the mix and george o'brien per- sonalities in mind. the best, as a group, were undoubtedly those that paramount made in the twenties, when story and production values were given primary place, and star value considered only after them (although with players like jack holt, noah beery, and tim mccoy, grey's char- acters were singularly well served). apart from a feeble remake of the vanishing american in the fifties, it has been some time since the screen has given us any grey material—due in part to the recent arrival on tele- vision of a “zane grey theatre” which maximized the value of his name, while distorting the old values of his works. few of the films in- cluded in the series were actually based on his originals, and many were decidedly modern in the heavy psychological mold—the very antithesis of his stories. the twenties boom years the indian motif was continued in with braveheart, in which rod la rocque was starred as a college-educated, football-playing indian, who returns to lead his people in the ways of the white man. paramount's zane grey films continued with some fine entries, including born to the west, forlorn river with jack holt, and desert gold with neil hamilton. one of rin tin tin's competitors, peter the great, made an enjoyable action film entitled wild justice. mgm's the barrier was a well-made rex beach melodrama, with henry b. walthall stealing acting honors. the devil horse, well directed by fred jackman, offered action, good stunts from hero yakima canutt, fine photography by george stevens, and well-staged indian attacks. one of the most spectacular westerns of the year, sadly forgotten today, was the last frontier, directed by george b. seitz, an eight-reel epic which had been started under ince, and temporarily shelved following his death. the indian fighting scenes were spectacular: wave upon wave of mounted indians, hundreds strong, galloped into battle, dramatically photographed from high vantage points. even a fine buffalo stampede sequence had to give way before these magnificently staged indian fights. westerns in were enjoying their biggest boom of the silent period; even a sedate and cultural center like baltimore, at its garden theatre, turned out in greatest numbers to see a western— tom mix's the best bad man. the boom continued into . old series were sustained, new ones were started. but it was the last really big year for the silent western. paramount, still not sure how to use the unique talent of betty bronson following her excellent, if unsuccessful a kiss for cinderella, had her mark time in her second western, open range. a competent film, it had plenty of action, with lane chandler as the hero, and yakima canutt doubling for him in stunt scenes. gary cooper made nevada, another zane grey western, for para- teen years later, this time with robert lowery and helen gilbert in the leads, and nat pendleton as the maddened thief who dies of snake bite. the only change was a negative one: it was photographed in the blurred green of cinecolor. the twenties the sound era it was inevitable that sound should eventually come to the screen. there had been experiments, by edison and others, in the earliest days, and periodically throughout the twenties, in films like griffith's dream street, unsuccessful attempts had been made to hasten its arrival. but the revo- lution in was total; sound, initially on disc, soon on track, had come to stay, and before its use in movies became absolute, the western suffered a resounding set-back. the genre seemed somehow "symbolic” of the silent era, and therefore something to be shunned; westerns seemed to offer little opportunity for the full exploitation of the new medium. all that mattered in those early days of the new era was that a film talked incessantly, and often to the exclusion of all else. camera movement stopped, plot stopped, action stopped, while the characters stood around and talked at length. this is not to imply that only bad films were made: veterans like king vidor refused to abandon their technique and mastery of style—his hallelujah remains one of his best films from any period; newcomer rouben mamoulian, making his first film, applause, refused to let his technicians tell him about the “limita- tions” of sound, and made a picture that was visually a film first, and a “talkie” second. but these were exceptions; movies which “talked” on endlessly, like the locked door and the racketeer set the rule. the western, recognizing that its appeal lay still primarily in its clean-cut action, made small attempt to let dialogue dominate; curiously, however, it allowed itself to be slowed down so that its pacing matched the now- fashionable slowness of sound films. victor fleming's the virginian, for example, an interesting film, and perhaps still the best version of this classic western tale, suffered especially in this respect. a leisurely story in any case, it seemed almost artificially slow in its measured pacing. with a minimum of action and a normal amount of dialogue, it seemed to be full of unimportant incident, with the expectation that something significant would emerge at some point from that incident. however, it was beautifully photographed and well acted, especially by richard arlen as the tragic rustler, while gary cooper and walter huston were a fine pair of protagonists. but sound was not the only element that affected the western; some- thing else had happened at almost the same time: lindbergh flew the atlantic, capturing the imagination of millions of americans. it was remarked at the time that the western was ready for a quick burial. among the most significant examples of this mentality was an editorial by james r. quirk which appeared in the april, , issue of photoplay: the western “history will be several generations along before we can get a real focus on the results of lindbergh's epochal flight and character. great as was his initial accom- plishment, it will fade into the background when compared to his effect on national thought and manners. lindbergh has put the cowboy into the discard as a type of national hero. the western novel and motion picture heroes have slunk away into the brush, never to return. within the past two years, western pictures, always surefire profit earners, have lost their popularity. western novels and western fiction have fared a similar fate. the western picture has gone the way of the serial thriller. the cow ponies are retired to the pasture with the old fire horses. zane grey and harold bell wright are following horatio alger and oliver optic. tom mix, hoot gibson and ken maynard must swap horses for aeroplanes or go to the old actors' home. the great open spaces are now landing fields, and the bears in the mountains cannot hurt little nell because little nell is thumbing her nose at them as her lover pilots her over the hill tops. they used to lure the dimes out of little boys' pockets with lithographs of tony and silver king jumping stetson hats over ravines, and two-gun men shooting day- light through dastardly mexicans who had insulted the ranch-owner's daughter. but little boys have changed their ideas since lindy flew the atlantic, and save their dimes until they can see sam browne belted lads plugging aeroplanes marked with german crosses, or air mail heroes winging through the fog and the night to save the honor of clara or corinne, greta or colleen. that's just one little thing that lindy's done." photoplay, which has little in common with the magazine of the same name today, was the most influential and intelligent of the fan maga- zines of the twenties. it was respected by hollywood, and not merely used by it; its articles and editorials were excellent, its reviews discern- ing, and its “fan padding" at a minimum. through the years, it took cognizance of the popularity of the western and reviewed the bulk of them while lesser magazines merely shrugged them off. in retrospect, some of editor quirk's editorials can be seen to be blatantly wrong; but the majority were far-sighted and intelligent. during the first two years of the sound film, no really important large- scale westerns were made and, influenced by this apparent slackening the twenties of interest in large westerns, fewer “b” westerns were produced. mgm ceased production entirely on the tim mccoy series and never resumed any kind of “b” western schedule. fbo, which had the tom mix series, likewise stopped production when internal changes transformed the company into rko radio, which then launched a group of very talkative literary and stage adaptations. it was not until two years later that one of these adaptations, cimarron, unexpectedly returned the western to favor with the rko front office, and prompted a reinstate- ment of series westerns on their production schedule. fox's in old arizona, made in , inadvertently convinced the skeptics that the western could utilize sound beneficially; director raoul walsh, who had planned to star in the film until an eye accident made it impossible, made no real attempt to exploit his sound track as such. it was a big film, still the best of the many cisco kid adventures, and doubtless its sheer size and gusto would have made it just as successful even had it been shot as a silent. but simple scenes combining sound and picture, such as bacon frying over an open campfire, somehow excited the critics who now foresaw a great future for the sound western. visual action remained more important than dialogue. however, if speech was to add little to the western, sound was instead to add a great deal. sounds of action-stampeding cattle, gunshots, etc.—and the use of traditional western folk music, particularly in the films directed by john ford, definitively added another dimension to the genre. uncertain about the future of the sound film, and in any event having to cater to both silent and sound exhibitors, many companies issued their westerns in the – period in both sound and silent versions. dialogue was usually concentrated into one or two sequences, the rest of the film being mainly a matter of music and sound effects. dialogue was there solely to exploit the novelty of sound, and added little, if any- thing to the plot. because of the then cumbersome sound equipment, the films were shot on long box-like sets, with almost no camera move- ment. such sequences, of course, seemed pointlessly static in the purely silent versions. for example, ken maynard's lucky latkin has some bar- room comic interludes which brought the whole plot to a grinding halt for half a reel at a time. and films like hoot gibson's the mounted stranger, which had always placed more stress than most on comedy, seemed particularly slow. as late as , some westerns were being put out in both silent and sound versions. universal's serial, the indians are coming, was so released, becoming the studio's last silent serial and first talkie serial simultaneously. it proved to be a strange mixture of techniques: the sections where direct the western sound, that is to say, principally dialogue, was not used but where sound effects and music alone were utilized, remained typical of the silents of the late twenties. there was an almost overabundant use of the moving camera for lengthy tracking shots, one of which traveled from outside the western town, right up the main street, and into a close-up of the saloon, an exceptionally smooth and long shot that was re-used many times during the course of the serial. of course, the tendency was reversed whenever the direct dialogue sequences took over. to make the most of the dialogue, the romantic interest between tim mccoy and allene ray became more pronounced than was common in serials, and some chapters came to their conclusion on a dramatic rather than melo- dramatic note, the crises being prompted by words rather than by physical action. the western as a whole fared much better than most films in this tran- sitional change of a period. the average non-western, content to rely on the pure novelty of sound, usually offered seven reels of nothing but talk, with a total repudiation of camera movement and a near-abandon- ment of all other types of film grammar. the western instead, by its very nature, remained fresh and fast despite the commercial necessity of occasional slow stretches. strangely enough, comparatively little was done to introduce music. ken maynard occasionally featured singing groups in his films, and in fact frequently sang himself, but perhaps due to maynard's own limitations as a singer, and the fact that he still ad- hered to the traditional western, the idea for musical westerns did not catch on at that time. the success of in old arizona naturally spurred interest in the large- scale sound western epic. the immediate outcome was the remaking of several established western favorites. the virginian was sold not on its own considerable merits, nor on star value, but on the angle: “now you can see and hear this classic story.” approximately a year later de mille used the same approach on his third version of the squaw man. but, of course, the novelty of sound in a film genre which really used it so little, was bound to wear off. luckily, a new novelty attracted a great deal of attention. almost forgotten now is the fact that between and hollywood, which had already tried and discarded three-dimensional films, was experimenting with various types of wide-screen presentations. for a while it seemed that seventy-millimeter film (the same film now used in the todd-ao process) might well become standard, but at the time the revolution was prema- ture and the movement died out. at least two important westerns were shot, however, for wide screens on seventy-millimeter film, with, of course, lantas mo a paramount talking picture b. p. schulberg, general manager west coast productions adolph zukor and jesse l. lasky present the virginian with gary cooper and walter huston richard arlen and mary brian a victor fleming production based upon the novel by owen wister and the play by owen wister and kirk la shelle adapted by grover jones and keene thompson screen play by howard estabrook dialogue by edward e. paramore, jr. sound was big news when the virginian was released ( ). synopsis, ad.-aids and price list standard thirty-five-millimeter versions being shot at the same time. they were billy the kid, directed by king vidor for mgm, with johnny mack brown and wallace beery, and the big trail, another raoul walsh “special” for fox. scenes of the vast wagon train winding across the desert, fording a flooded river, and literally being hauled over moun- tains, were especially effective because they were suited to the wide- screen treatment, and no film since, even in the period of cinemascope, has even approached the effectiveness of this footage. by now, too, walsh had developed more constructive ideas concerning the use of music. the grand scale of the indian battle in the film was made doubly effective by the sudden introduction of a furious agitato with indian themes; otherwise, music in the film was still used sparingly. the big trail also proved the fallacy of the executives' theory that the western sound westerns would lose the traditional foreign market for westerns. these people thought that it would not be worth the trouble to dub or subtitle a film in which dialogue was not of prime importance. the big trail, however, proved a great success overseas. in this period, great importance was attached to foreign versions of films. these were versions shot at the same time, but with different players, a different director, and sometimes even a completely different approach, despite the same basic script and sets. all of the big action scenes could be used intact, with occasional cut-in close-ups of the foreign players; the german version of the big trail, for example, was especially well put together. dialogue taking a second place to action, the sequences that had to be re-shot, on the original sets, of course, were relatively few and comparatively simple. although german audiences were deprived of john wayne except in the long shots, germany's exhibitors had a much more profitable product. hollywood's practice of making alternate versions of its films did not last long; as soon as the cheaper processes of dubbing and subtitling were found to be acceptable overseas, the more elaborate method of making foreign versions was abandoned, except for occasional shooting of ad- ditional scenes to increase the marketability of a film in a given territory. billy the kid, the big trail, and cimarron in themselves constitute the cycle of epic western of to . it was a short-lived cycle and not a prolific one, but it did restore the western to the front rank in box- office popularity and paved the way for the boom period in “b” west- erns from to . these factors combined demonstrated con- clusively that the genre was not ready for burial as photoplay more than intimated; instead it was very much alive and kicking, to the delight of its supporters. the wester “true, most of the characters in the movies are better dressed and live more luxuriously than do their counterparts in real life.” www hortense powdermaker len . ostume western costuming by hollywood seems to have been governed more than anything else by changing concepts of the western itself, and by tailoring to the requirements of individual western players. special films like the iron horse and shane apart, relatively little concern seems to have been displayed over absolute authenticity of wardrobe. it became customary for the hero to dress in simple but clean-cut fashion, and the hero with a waistcoat or a jacket was rare indeed. it was equally customary for the gambler to advertise his trade by wearing a long black frock coat. undoubtedly the most completely realistic westerns, insofar as costume is concerned, were those made by ince between and . with the star system not yet a potent factor, authenticity of reconstruction was one of ince's main concerns, and his films were in part sold on the basis of their authenticity. it was fairly easy to be authentic under the circumstances; he was shooting his films in the west and about a west that was almost contemporary. compare, for instance, the utter realism, almost to the point of drabness, of the cos- tuming in his films, with the costuming in the earlier the great train robbery. the explana- tion for the difference is that porter's film, shot in new jersey, tried to duplicate the west, while ince was able to reflect it. the costuming in the great train robbery is mainly a matter of suggestion; by their large, wide-brimmed hats and their boots, we il-fitting and over-large necker- chieves, eastern hats and shirts, and the "expected” sheepskin chaps-the initial inaccurate costuming of westerns not made in the west. from a broncho billy western, the girl in the triple x ( ). know that these men are supposed to be westerners. but the suspicion remains that the hats and boots were rented, and the rest of the ward- robe furnished from the players' closets of old clothes. too many of the "actors” looked like easterners masquerading as cowboys in clothing that was obviously unfamiliar to them. somewhat amateurish though it appeared, the costuming in the great train robbery and other early edison westerns was still—understandably -superior to the costuming in french “westerns” of the same period. the hanging at jefferson city, one of a series made by the french di- rector durant, seemed to rely solely on its barroom set, and on its exteriors—none too convincing in themselves—to convey western atmos- phere. costuming was sketchy in the extreme, the average outfits look- ing like everyday french farmers' clothes, with only the broad-brimmed hats to act as a common denominator between the variety of costumes. the law was presented in the form of two individuals in nondescript uniform, resembling, if anything, u. s. cavalrymen. these lawmen both bore enormous silver stars on their chests to designate their official capacity, but so outsized were these badges that they almost reduced the lawmen to the comic proportions of traditional american comic-police- men in strip cartoons or, a little later with the keystone kops, in movies. the broncho billy films made in the interim period were, however, much more realistic in this respect, without going to the extremes that ince did. managing to avoid a "phoney” or theatrical look, they struck the western costume a satisfactory balance between the two. as the first western star in his own right, the rather beefy anderson cut quite a striking figure without being either drab or garish. he wore a simple and modestly colored shirt, often a waistcoat (apart from hart and, occasionally, mix, few other western stars did this) and leather cuffs, adorned with a single star, around his lower arms. these cuffs were, of course, an essential part of the working cowboy's equipment. as he roped cattle, he would dig the cut-off heel of his boot into the ground to provide a firm anchor, and loop his rope around a cuff, which provided the protection from friction and rope burns. authentic or not, they apparently were too cumbersome for the movie cowboy, and apart from anderson and hart, they never quite caught on with western leads. rather they seemed limited to actors playing villains or old-timers; for example, a lesser villain, earl dwire, wore them frequently, and raymond hatton, playing a grizzled old-timer in several series of westerns, used them as an integral part of his costume. hatton's, at least, seemed to be the real article, for they were well scarred with rope burns. one part of the anderson costume that never caught on were the sheepskin chaps. chaps were never really an accepted part of the movie cowboy's costume, although ken maynard, buck jones, and tom mix frequently wore leather chaps. but the sheepskin chaps remained a part of broncho billy's era. after that, they were worn for the most part by players enacting the roles of dudes (jack benny in buck benny rides again, stanley fields in the mine with the iron door, or william boyd, masquerading as a dude in sunset trail). the appearance of an actor in these chaps always brought forth gales of laughter from the supporting cast of “hardened westerners.” apparently new yorkers and englishmen were the principal dudes exported to the west; both fell back on sheep- skin chaps, and on “city” riding habits to emphasize their milquestoast characters. william s. hart's insistence on authenticity in all matters pertaining to the west extended especially to his costume. because of this, hart frequently looked far from neat, but he never once took on the slick “circus” appearance of so many other “cowboys.” hart wore drab frock coats, often shiny with use and dusty from much traveling, and the cheap, sturdy, gaudily colorful shirts that the old frontiersmen loved so much. they had to be of strong material, to meet rugged frontier activ- ity and weather, and they had to be cheap, to meet the cowboy's pocketbook. hart wore these trappings casually, neither exploiting their authenticity nor avoiding them because of their vulgarity. his outfit varied according to the role he played, but he always wore a mexican tom mix: the "circus” approach. sash beneath his gun belt. this item, never actually used by hart in his films, and never copied by any other western star, was a vital part of the cowboy's working equipment, for with it he tied the hooves of a steer after he had roped it. the authen- ticity of hart's costumes was never approached by any other western star, nor did most stars even want to take on such an unglamorous appearance. tom mix, the next great western star to appear after hart, went to quite the opposite extreme. mix openly admitted that his screen character was not intended to par- allel that of the authentic westerner. mix was essentially a showman, and his costume perfectly reflected this “circus” approach. it was mix who evolved the costume that practically looked like a uniform. this sort of costume was not entirely foreign to the real west, but it was the kind of costume that a cowboy would buy to indulge his vanity at a rodeo, or at a similar special event. it was impractical, and certainly uneconomical, as an everyday working outfit. along with the meticulously designed colored shirts and intricately carved boots, mix also introduced gloves to the westerner's outfit--a piece of cloth- ing seldom worn by the real cowboy. in mix's case, they were a necessity, for his hands were soft and prone to injury; but most of the subsequent western stars, without his reasons, imitated him and likewise wore the western gun belt. the gun belt itself underwent fewer changes than any other part of the western costume. in the thirties, monogram and republic seemed to favor functional belts always jammed full of deadly looking cartridges. bill elliott wore his belt in such a way that the guns rested in their holsters butt forward, calling for the spectacular cross draw. and in the twenties, fred thomson had sometimes worn a strange-looking all white gun belt. it was a clumsy affair, looking for all the world like a child's toy. it took much away from his otherwise tough, capable appearance. for obvious reasons, very few western stars used the holster string—a cord which tied the holsters tightly to the legs, facilitating a fast draw. this was principally a device of the professional gunfighter, and for a west- ern hero to use it might suggest either an unhealthy knowledge of the art of gunfighting or an unfair advantage taken over an opponent. hart, of course, had used this device frequently, and william boyd, bill elliott, and others did on occasion, but it was never stressed in any way. strangely, the “b” westerns of the thirties adopted on a large scale a costume pattern which had been only mildly prevalent in the silent era: symbolic clothing. this was even more surprising since, with the advent of sound films, the need for obvious visual symbolism had been obviated. the pattern was largely based on black and white clothing, the colors representing evil and good respectively. the hero would wear a spotless white stetson, as much white as possible in his costume, and would ride a snow-white horse. the villain, needless to say, wore a black hat, usually more shapeless and less heroic in size than that of the hero, a completely black outfit, and rode a black horse. sometimes a black mustache was added, and the mustache itself became almost a symbol of evil, heroes with mustaches in the thirties becoming quite rare; jack holt was one of the very few who survived the taboo. the trend to white hats was led by such stars as charles starrett, john wayne, bob livingston, ken maynard, buck jones, tex ritter and bob allen. starrett at columbia wore the largest and most spotless white stetson that ever gleamed from a screen at a near-blinded audience! one of the very few exceptions to the rule was william boyd, who as hopalong cassidy, affected a rather strange outfit. for one thing it was simple and workmanlike, lacking any hint of the garish; yet in its way it was quite as unrealistic as the near-surrealistic outfits of mix. com- pletely consistent from picture to picture-until the much later films in the forties—it was a uniform no less than were the outfits of mix and rogers. it defied convention by being totally black, but, of course, boyd still rode a flawlessly white horse. another to reverse the black-white symbolic pattern was tim mccoy, who at columbia in the early thirties adopted a black outfit, topped by a gleaming white sombrero. later he dropped the white hat, replac- ing it with a black one, too. mccoy was always immaculate. his clothes were not fancy, but they were obviously of the finest fabrics, spotlessly clean, and neatly pressed. he hardly looked like a working cowboy, but since he invariably played a lawman posing as a gambler or an outlaw, this discrepancy mattered little. mccoy's somber appearance in black made him seem like nemesis in person, for outlaws in any case. he would walk slowly into a saloon, letting the swing doors flap behind him, and would stand there silently surveying the scene, glowering grimly at any obvious renegade, and flashing his eyes from side to side in a manner that became almost his trademark. whether the outlaws accepted him as friend or foe, from that moment on, they knew that they had met their master! such a scene was included almost automatically in the majority of mccoy's later westerns, and they depended in large part on his striking costume for their ultimate effect. mccoy was a bit of a ham at heart, and played such scenes to the hilt. he also had a fondness for masquerading as a mexican bandit, and appropriate scenes were written into many of his pictures, giving him the opportunity to wear a colorful costume, and to engage in flamboyant theatrics with a mexican accent. bill elliott: costume picturesque but generally realistic, gun holsters re- versed for faster cross-draw. charles starrett: a tasteful compro- mise between neatness and practi- cality. this most distressing: they thought he looked half-dressed and not very glamorous. the costume has not been worn since. in the forties, for reasons which no one has yet explained, the large stetson, considered almost a trademark of the western since the earliest days, began to disappear slowly—to be replaced by a much less spectac- ular stetson, equally widebrimmed, but with a much flatter crown. tim holt, johnny mack brown, george o'brien, charles starrett, and roy rogers all adopted this as their regular headgear, and in due time all the western stars, even those of negligible stature like lash larue, made the changeover. john ford's flair for accurate costum- ing was apparent from the start. george o'brien in the iron horse. johnny mack brown: costume fash- ionable, tasteful, hardly realistic. sos the western costume changes in other stock characters in the western—the heroine and the indian for example—have been less distinctive. female garb seems to have been changed primarily to reflect contemporary fashion rather than to re-create authentic western fashions. in early westerns, the trend was to high, demure bodices and to long skirts. in the twenties, the heroine dressed in practical blouses, and skirts were shorter. there was no longer quite the same hesitation about showing something of a well-shaped female leg, in westerns or other films, but fashions were still modest. in the late thirties and early forties, legs were exploited in westerns. short skirts and ankle boots came into vogue, and musical numbers, which frequently provided excuses for chorines in tights to go through their paces, were contributing factors. once the western really exploited sex, following the outlaw, the western heroine took to provoc- atively tight and unbuttoned shirts and blouses, equally undersized men's trousers, silk stockings, flimsy negligees, and similar accessories. costuming of the indian has not radically changed in itself; rather have the movies increasingly explored the backgrounds of radically dif- ferent tribes in order to show that the feathered headdress was no more typical of all indians than is the bowler hat of all englishmen. many indians, particularly the more peaceful ones, and those that lived near whites, adopted many of the white man's clothes, especially colored shirts and trousers. but, perhaps to stress that indians were not quite as civilized as whites, the movie indian always seemed to wear his shirt out- side of his trousers! a few films like apache, however, did treat the indian in the white man's clothing in proper perspective. in recent years, we have seen something of a return to the style of dress of the old ince films, due mainly to certain inherent tendencies in “adult” westerns and the influence of television series. from this return to more realistic and at times drab costuming, a new sort of uniform has become identified with the hero. as exemplified by gary cooper in high noon and more typically by hugh o'brian in his wyatt earp series for television, this uniform consists of various items of everyday apparel subtly combined to produce a dramatic effect which emphasizes black. the hero appears as a starkly dramatic figure, a black upholder of the law silhouetted against gray surroundings, visually a man of obvious destiny, force, and leadership. осово the thirties “collectivism is indispensable in the film, but the collaborators must be blended with one another to an exceptionally close degree.” vsevolod i. pudovkin the cycle of epic sound westerns started in and was short-lived, but the re- newed faith in the genre as such brought a boom in the production of the modest “b” westerns, a phenomenon which lasted at full strength for a decade and a half. the veri- table golden age of the “b” western mate- rialized in the early and mid-thirties, with cheap production costs, ready markets, and high profits. and when the boom seemed in danger of burning itself out, the musical westerns of gene autry came along to enjoy even greater popularity. although the sound era introduced new important western stars, the leading ones, initially at least, were those who had reigned supreme in the silent era, too: buck jones, ken maynard, tom mix, tim mccoy, and, to a lesser degree, hoot gibson. only one of the silent western stars, art acord, failed to make the transition in sound westerns. he found his voice unsuit- able for the sensitive recording apparatus, a big problem, but one that careful vocal training could have overcome. most of the top stars of silent films—garbo, barrymore, swanson, chaney-easily made the transi- tion, but acord did not persevere; perhaps realizing that his vogue was over, he drifted into crime, served a prison term for rum- running, and finally committed suicide. bob steele and tom tyler never quite made it to the top rank in the sound era, although the quantity of their output for independent studios equaled if it did not exceed that of their more popular contemporaries. of the western minor stature were the westerns made by a dozen or so lesser heroes of the sagebrush. bob custer, one of the poorest actors of them all, appeared in some lively serials and “quickie” westerns with rin tin tin, jr., of which the feature, vengeance of rannah is one of the more interesting. con- way tearle, a minor movie idol only a decade earlier, was sadly reduced to such pedestrian westerns as judgement book. wally wales (better known in later years as a villain under the name of hal taliaferro) was another holdover from the silent days, appearing in many cheap inde- pendent westerns. trick roper and rodeo performer monty montana failed to catch on as a western hero, probably because the few starring vehicles he made, of which circle of death is typical, were too ineptly produced. lane chandler, who had appeared in a number of silent westerns for paramount, had a brief starring period, but soon drifted into traditional “hero's pal” roles. fred kohler, jr., son of the famed director but a rather colorless personality, after a few starring “b” westerns re- mained at best on the periphery of the field for years. some of his little westerns were surprisingly good, especially toll of the desert, which had plenty of action, a solid script, and moving finish very much in the zane grey tradition. kohler, as an honest sheriff, hangs the outlaw leader whose courage and code of honor he has always admired, unaware that the outlaw is actually his own father. probably the best of the lesser western stars of the thirties was rex bell, a good-looking and considerably better-than-average actor whose period of popularity was surprisingly brief. his westerns were often good-natured and humorous, with a fairly realistic approach to tradi- tional plots. at another time bell might have been far more popular, but when he arrived on the scene, the western market was already glutted with names. cheap companies like resolute gave him plenty of action and even good plots in gun fire and saddle acres, for example, but an absolute minimum of production value. he did, however, make a good series of westerns for monogram, married clara bow, and gradu- ally retired from the movies, returning only occasionally to appear in such films as tombstone, dawn on the great divide and lone star. in the years before his death in bell devoted himself almost exclusively to politics, and in he was elected lieutenant-governor of nevada. among the real old-timers only harry carey remained consistently active as a western star in sound films, appearing in both serials (vanishing legion, the devil horse) and in “b” pictures constructed along the lines of his silent westerns. however, most of his sound westerns- wagon train, or last of the clintons, for example—lacked the really strong plot elements that had distinguished his better silents, films like satan town and the prairie pirate, and seemed rather slow-moving. jack mul- hall alternated between heroics and villainy, as did walter miller and william desmond. only two new westerns stars of real caliber emerged during the early years of sound. george o'brien had, of course, starred in the iron horse for ford in , and in other silent westerns, but had always been considered a straight leading man rather than a western star. fox put him into a fine series of zane grey westerns. the other newcomer was another ford discovery, john wayne, who had played a minor role in that director's men without women and achieved stardom in raoul walsh's the big trail. wayne, under contract to warners, appeared in a remarkably good series of westerns produced for that company by cartoon-maker leon schlessinger. one of the most surprising trends of this period was the temporary abandonment of “streamlining” in the “b” western. “streamlining” and lush glamour were considered essential in the hollywood product: the early, halting days when the “movies” became "talkies” were over. in films like grand hotel or even fairly routine programmers like jewel robbery, the movie audiences were getting the ultimate in films that literally dripped veneer from every frame. it was a wonderful era of super-sophistication, an era in which the delightful fantasy of trouble in paradise could rub shoulders with the stark realism of public enemy. the thirties producer-stars westerns, however, did not generally follow the trend to more glamorous products, and for a while many of them were austere in the hart tradi- tion. one of the reasons for this was that tom mix, ken maynard, and later, in , buck jones had their own production units and handled their films in a personal and individual way. but just as hart had some- times lost perspective through too little supervision, so it was to a degree with jones and maynard. with jones especially, there was a tendency to be “arty” and to play down action in favor of unusual dramatic elements. stone of silver creek, for example, almost repeated the austerity and evangelistic fervor of hart's hell's hinges, since it was mostly de- voted to the methodical conversion and reformation of a saloon-keeper (jones) by a minister's daughter. there was no physical action until a lively final reel packed in sufficient riding, fisticuffs, and shooting to satisfy the customers. at times, too, jones became a great believer in comedy, casting himself as a “dumb” cowhand mixed up in affairs somewhat beyond his comprehension. these films were usually weak in all departments. he more than made up for them with good westerns the thirties his trail is texas ranger walter miller, who captures him. they become firm friends during their trek back to civilization. as they paddle through swamps, miller suddenly becomes wildly delirious and shoots at a swarm of crocodiles; the canoe overturns, and miller is badly mauled by a crocodile. then, in an incredibly written sequence, maynard casually announces that, having lived with the jungle indians, learned many of their medical secrets, it will be a simple matter for him to amputate miller's leg with a red-hot iron before gangrene sets in. miller, under- standably skeptical, shoots himself. at this point maynard discovers that he is an exact double for miller, a development that is quite unaccept- able in spite of the men's heavy beards. maynard decides to return in miller's place, and manages to fool even those people who knew both men intimately. nor was there any attempt at serious acting in maynard's westerns, and this together with the absence of any logic in the tales told, made it difficult for adults to accept his films as seriously as they accepted those of buck jones. but the best maynard westerns, like the silent the red raiders, and his early sound films, dynamite ranch and fargo express, are among the best westerns made by any star. and to maynard-rather than to gene autry-belongs the real credit for the introduction of the musical western. songs in maynard's films were never introduced for their own sake, and they were integral parts of his films for some five years prior to the advent of autry and rogers. strawberry roan had its plot built around the theme of that popular western song. maynard had a pleasant voice and frequently accompanied himself on the fiddle. songs in his westerns were usually sung around the campfire episodes, introduced logically to provide moments of relaxation between melo- dramatic action. they remained essentially masculine affairs, quite without dance-hall singers or even a vocally inclined heroine. the “old look” in westerns was further sustained by paramount in the excellent series of high-class “b” westerns based on the novels of zane grey, a series started in the twenties which was to continue until the early forties. although “b” in running time and budget (with oc- casional rare exceptions such as gary cooper's fighting caravans, a rather disappointing imitation of the covered wagon in sound), these films had exceptionally good production values, strong scripts, excellent cameramen, directors, and casts. director henry hathaway made some of the best early sound films in this group. after the lives of a bengal lancer ( - ) he was promoted from “b” films, left westerns to return almost twenty years later with rawhide, which he directed for fox. but hathaway's flair for fast, smoothly staged action has never again been used nearly as effectively as it had been in those early paramount zane grey subjects. many of the films in this group (desert gold, the thundering herd, man of the forest, to the last man, light of the western stars) had been made earlier as silents. paramount re-used whole sequences intact from the silent originals, often matching up the footage quite cleverly by re-employing many of the players from the old versions, casting them in the same roles in the remakes, and garbing them in identical costumes. thus, some of the credit we have just given to henry hathaway for the thundering herd rightfully belongs to william k. howard, who directed the original version: howard's brilliantly staged stampede of wagons across a frozen lake was used again in the sound version and it still proved impressive and thrilling. however, hathaway can take full credit for to the last man ( ), which had a minimum of stock footage. its stark plot spanned many years and concerned a longstanding feud between families. the film and feud ended with only one representative of each family (randolph scott and esther ralston) remaining alive, determined to end the futility of clan warfare there and then. other excellent paramount westerns adapted from grey's novels were nevada with buster crabbe and thunder trail, based on grey's arizona ames and starring gilbert roland. however, with the exception of the last two or three films in the series, all maintained a remarkably high standard. the western the “b” western the qualitative difference between the independently made westerns and the “b” pictures of the major studios was quite staggering, especially after the early days of sound. the independents (resolute, puritan, spectrum, ambassador, and others) often turned out such a primitive product that at first glance it seemed to have been made at least ten years earlier than those of contemporary major-studio westerns. one major contributing factor was the poor quality of the camera work. also, the original silent speed of sixteen frames per second (as opposed to twenty- four for sound speed) was used on westerns, due both to the work of inefficient second-unit camera crews, and to a then-prevalent belief that speeded-up action lent excitement to fast action scenes. this near- hysterical pacing of the action, plus the lack of realistic sound effects (fight scenes were often played completely silent or with general “scuf- fing” effects ineptly dubbed in later), combined with the lack of inci- dental music (and especially the lack of agitatos in chase scenes) gave one the impression of viewing a speeded-up silent film without the benefit even of a theater pianist! the lack of musical scores was, in fact, the greatest drawback to these early independent westerns, for they were often very lively little adventures which would have enjoyed more popularity with occasional background music. the most useful function performed by these very cheap westerns was that they provided a good training ground for several stars and directors: john garfield and rita hayworth made their entry into movies by this route in the thirties; among the directors apprenticed in this way were joseph h. lewis, an editor on mascot serials who developed into one of the best directors of “b” westerns, ultimately graduating into high-bracket melodramas (undercover man, gun crazy) in the forties and fifties, and edward dmytryk, who made an interesting little western, trail of the hawk. most of the independent westerns of the thirties were simple affairs, built solely around action. films like gun fire, a resolute western of starring rex bell, and tangled fortunes with francis x. bushman, jr., were almost non-stop parades of fistic encounters, chases, and riding stunts. they were made cheaply and prolifically, in groups of eight, but as always there were refreshing exceptions to this pure rule of action. a series starring tom tyler for newly formed monogram pictures in featured occasionally original stories, and superior scripting, at least in concept, even if it lacked some polished dialogue. one film in this series, partners of the trail, even went so far as to eliminate villains entirely in telling a remarkably adult story of a playboy who has come west to es- cape the consequences of having killed his wife's lover. he finds himself the thirties tom santschi, boris karloff, and the grand old man of many west- erns, lafe mckee, in the utah kid ( ). battling with his conscience when chance throws him into friendly con- tact with the man who has been blamed for the crime. even apart from the unusual plot-line, there were other distinctly original touches, in- cluding a drunken scene in which the hero scrawls his name on the adobe walls of his cottage. the explanation for the use of such themes in early sound westerns must lie in the fact that writers and directors were able to make films for a generally freer screen in those pre-code days. cer- tainly after all films adopted a far more conventional and less bit- ing format, and the western cooperated with the “reform" even more than did the gangster film and the risqué comedy. the western forgotten westerns the western common today is the film that is neither an epic nor an insignificant quickly made picture, but such westerns were comparative rarities in the thirties. yet a number were made, and some were un- usually good, two of them quite classic of their kind. one was william wyler's hell's heroes, the best of several versions, including one by ford, of a sentimental peter b. kyne story; the other, edward l. cahn's law and order, made in for universal. cahn's film was and is sadly un- derrated. it is an almost forgotten film, the only sound western perhaps, apart from king vidor's billy the kid, to recapture successfully the primitive quality and stark realism of the early hart films, not only in plot, but also in characterization, photography, and direction. for law and order to refute the trend toward “streamlining,” and to return wholeheartedly to the original concept was a courageous move andy devine (center) and walter huston (right) in law and order ( ). nde die la yakima canutt (closest to camera) takes a horse fall in the battle of san jacinto sequence from man of conquest ( ). warner baxter, bruce cabot, and margo in robin hood of eldorado ( ). this still, one of several selected for newspaper serialization, car- ried this caption: “in the dim light they saw rosita, naked save for a few torn strips of cloth- ing, lying across the bed with her head and arms hanging down on one side.” indeed. a straight tale of four lawmen cleaning up a wide-open town, it was slowly paced and never exploited action for its own sake, but it was climaxed by one of the most savage gunfights ever put on film. its flaw- less construction, photography (the camera seemed to dart in and out of the action like a participant rather than a spectator), and editing quite outclass the similar, more highly touted, but vastly inferior climactic battle in high noon. although based on a novel, saint johnson, itself based on the life of a famous lawman, most of the characters and inci- dents seemed to derive more from the career of wyatt earp. devoid of feminine interest, save for a realistic dance-hall trollop without a heart the western of gold, law and order starred walter huston, harry carey, raymond hattan, and russell hopton as the law enforcers, and ralph ince as the leader of the “heavies.” despite the quality of the film, its director, edward l. cahn, was, and is, comparatively unknown. a former editor who had worked under paul fejos, cahn's directorial work on law and order was his first—and unquestionably his best. even more than the late e. a. dupont (who made only one great picture, variety, but had at least several interesting near-misses), edward cahn was a one-film director. he soon became a specialist in economical rather than creative shooting, and spent his time shooting vapid “b” pictures. some of the credit for the film's unusual quality must be shared: the script was written by john huston. it is interesting, and a little sad, to compare huston's script with that used for universal's remake in under the same title. although the plot's essentials remained the same, all the strength and subtlety of the original were removed, replaced by scenes of violence or unnecessarily suggestive eroticism. (while the orig- inal film had no leading lady, this one had two!) the very touching scene in the original in which the honest lawmen were forced to hang an accidental killer (andy devine) became a tried-and-true lynching by the villains in the new version. apart from law and order and hell's heroes, the westerns which were neither epics nor "quickies” were mainly limited to an interesting group of films put out by rko, of which the last outlaw, powdersmoke range, and the arizonian were the prime examples. the last outlaw concerned a nelson eddy and jeanette macdon- ald in the girl of the golden west ( ). reformed western badman trying to go straight in the modern west and coming up against city racketeers. it was a well-made film and featured harry carey, hoot gibson, tom tyler, henry b. walthall, and fred scott—the latter seen as a singing cowboy when the hero takes his girl to the movies, thereby ridiculing hollywood's idea of the west. powder- smoke range, based on one of the william colt macdonald books in his three mesquiteers series, was billed as "the barnum and bailey of west- erns” and rounded up not only most of the reigning western stars (hoot gibson, bob steele, harry carey, and others) but also many of the old-timers, william desmond among them. such a cast rather got in the way of the action and plot, but it was an enjoyable novelty. in the arizonian rko returned to the old school with a straightforward tale of honest lawman richard dix cleaning up a corrupt town run by louis calhern. the thirties partial renaissance of the epic between cimarron in and stagecoach in , relatively few large- scale westerns were made, and even fewer that could justly be termed epics. mgm produced an interesting if romanticized version of the joaquin murietta story in robin hood of eldorado. warner baxter played the famous outlaw, and william wellman directed. otherwise, mgm seemed to prefer their westerns to have the flavor of operettas, as in the nelson eddy-jeanette macdonald films, rose marie and the girl of the golden west, and even in let freedom ring, a strange historical western played straight, but marred by the inept dramatics of nelson eddy in an allegedly he-man role. warners, until the firm made dodge city much later, limited their outdoor “specials” to logging melodramas of the peter b. kyne type. valley of the giants was a first-rate specimen of its type, lavishly staged, and full of exciting action, but god's country and the woman was not up to it. both were in technicolor, as was heart of the north, a first-rate vehicle for dick foran, promoted from the ranks of “b” western heroes. but none of these could properly be called epics; they had neither the scale nor point of view. perhaps the most interesting epic of the mid-thirties and, despite its faults, the best, was universal's sutter's gold. initially the soviet director s, m. eisenstein was to direct, and british actor francis l. sullivan to star. the role finally went to edward arnold, who was perfectly cast and delivered a dynamic performance as the swiss immigrant and dreamer who discovered gold in california and finally died poverty-stricken and crushed. there was discussion over the script in eisenstein's proposed the western treatment and, after an interim period in which howard hawks took over and even directed a few scenes, james cruze was finally selected as the director. cruze had been slipping since the last days of the silents, and made only independent features, many of which were not without inter- est, although none were able to restore his faded reputation. then, an excellent little picture for columbia, washington merry-go-round proved to be a “sleeper,” and cruze was back in favor again. he directed sutter's gold with enthusiasm, and in many ways it can be considered the final piece of a trilogy begun with the covered wagon and the pony express. it certainly had the epic sense of those two pictures and a good deal of their silent technique, too. cruze found it hard to devise effective transi- tions in his episodic story (which traveled half-way around the world and included political intrigue in its melodramatic action) and often reverted to subtitles reminiscent of the silent era to cover gaps in continuity. (“wagons rolling westward ... endlessly westward” was one subtitle that would have made perfect sense in the covered wagon.) cruze spent a fortune making sutter's gold. there were costly jaunts to location, mob scenes, a spectacular gold rush, large-scaled battle sequences. unfortunately, for a film without a "name" star, it cost far too much, literally wrecked the old regime at universal, and was one of the biggest losses in the company's history. fortunately for universal, james whale shot show boat at the same time, also an expensive picture, but one so tremendously profitable that it enabled the company to survive and go on to other, newer things. sutter's gold was in many ways a very good film, and its major sin was in losing money. it finished cruze as a director of top products, but he did continue to turn out some quite enjoyable little “b” thrillers. the responsibility for the survival of the epic seemed to fall squarely on the shoulders of paramount in the thirties. the company's western output had fallen mainly into the “b” category since fighting caravans and the virginian made in the early days of sound. after that paramount specialized more and more in rousing outdoor adventure. in the mid- thirties, paramount switched the emphasis to the epic western in four films, none of which had the virility and pace of the more expertly made zane grey westerns. the quartet made up an interesting collec- tion of different aspects of western history. cecil b. de mille's the plainsman was a very much romanticized account of the lives of wild bill hickok (gary cooper), calamity jane (jean arthur), and buffalo bill cody (james ellison). jean arthur represented a monumental error in casting, and only the supporting actors (fred kohler, dorothy burgess, porter hall, george hayes) were consistently convincing. the climactic sutter's californians repulse the mexican attackers in a scene from sutter's gold ( ). indian battle, too long delayed, was exciting but marred by the excessive use of back projection. frank lloyd's wells fargo was a grandiose production, but the epic theme of national progress was too often lost sight of by excessive atten- tion to historical details and the business aspects of the wells fargo organization. an artificial love triangle further slowed the proceedings, which came to life only twice: in a brief attack by indians on a stage- coach, and, more notably, in a spectacular action sequence showing a troop of confederate rebels attacking a wagon convoy. king vidor's the texas rangers was livelier, making better use of the camera's potential. it, too, was disappointing since it represented little more than a series of incidents, most of them drawn from texas rangers records. it was at least superficially authentic. the action highlights, particularly an indian attack, were directed by vidor with all the sweep and flair for spectacle so much in evidence in his earlier films, the big parade and billy the kid. but it was a spotty film, marred by conventional characterization and incredibly banal dialogue. its action highlights, a stirring musical score, and especially fine camera work all made it a western that was worth studying if not a great one. with all its defects, however, it was a far better film than paramount's anemic technicolor remake, the streets of laredo, which omitted the spectacular indian fighting scenes, replacing them with a sadistically brutal horsewhipping scene. the texans, made in , was the least impressive of paramount's large westerns of the thirties, but one of the most enjoyable. with no particular historical background it was content to travel the well-worn trails of the covered wagon. conventional enough, it had some exciting action sequences and likable performances from randolph scott and joan bennett. above all, its production was thoroughly competent. the western hopalong cassidy the plainsman, wells fargo, the texas rangers, and the texans were all made by paramount between and . although the company did not realize it then, they were making a far greater contribution to the western film with a much less ambitious project—the hopalong cassidy series, representing the work of veteran producer harry sherman. they went on to become the most successful “b” westerns ever made, exclud- ing possibly the autry musical westerns. initially paramount had no thought of making a series of cassidy films, nor were these adaptations of clarence e. mulford's old-school stories even thought of as traditional westerns. although william boyd, a former de mille star of the silent era, was finally cast, he was no youngster, nor did the first film in the series, hopalong cassidy, suggest that he was. the dialogue explained that he was getting along in years and no longer a very active man; and the bulk of the physical action was handled by his younger "sidekick," johnny nelson, very ably played by james ellison. this shunting of action away from boyd served two purposes: first it remained faithful to the character of cassidy as created by mulford; and secondly it allowed boyd to remain principally an actor. although he had made one or two westerns before, such as the interesting minor “a” production of the painted desert, the film which had brought forth clark gable as a new villain of note, boyd was still ill at ease on a horse. all his hard-riding scenes were done in extreme long shot and doubled by cliff lyons. however, within a year he had learned to ride well, and the bar rides again was the first film in the series to feature close-ups of boyd riding. fisticuffs were usually played down until quite late in the scenes and many of the films, particularly cassidy of bar , seemed remarkably light on all kinds of action except gun-slinging. the initial cassidy westerns (hopalong cassidy, the eagle's brood, heart of the west, three on a trail, call of the prairie, and the bar rides again) were all based to a large degree on mulford's original books and, there- fore, in terms of plot content they were quite superior to most of the contemporary “b” westerns. the thirties they were constructed in an identical manner, often re-using the same footage: a deliberately slow "build-up” to a climax of astonishing speed and vigor. after five or six reels of minor skirmishing, the last reel had a "hell-bent-for-leather” posse either speeding to rescue boyd or being led by him after the outlaws. these climaxes were constructed with sweeping trucking shots, slick intercutting of running inserts with long panoramic scenes, and really creative, tension-building editing. the ex- citement in these sequences was increased by the sudden and appropriate introduction of background music for the first and only time in the film. the startling addition of a rousing agitato (the one most used was “dance of the furies” from gluck's “don juan") literally had the younger element jumping up and down in their seats, while adults re- sponded to this dramatic device, too! the construction and this use of background music was original in the hopalong cassidy westerns, and it was imitated to excellent effect by two producers in particular-scott r. dunlap in such first-rate jack randall westerns as riders of the dawn (a perfect example of the influence of one “b” western on another) and by sol lesser in his principal westerns for fox release, films like the very good smith ballew subject, western gold. nearly seventy hopalong cassidy westerns were made in all, some of them even attaining a limited top-feature status with running times sometimes as high as eighty-eight minutes. despite occasional unusual plot ingredients (mainly when the scripts were based on mulford orig- inals) the plots were, for the most part, strictly formula affairs. there was never any “adult” material that might prove distasteful to young- sters, nor was there much of an attempt at an accurate representation of the old west. william boyd as hopalong cassidy in range war ( ). . a . if boyd followed convention, he did not follow cliché. boyd's cassidy was soft-spoken and gen- tlemanly, not given to brash treatment of the ladies or to ex- hibitionistic displays of riding and stunting. a mild romance be- tween cassidy and an old sweet- heart was revived on infrequent occasion, and it never was allowed to come to fruition. romance in the cassidy westerns was largely limited to gentle comedy at the expense of cassidy's perennially love-sick young companion, james ellison in the earlier films, russell hayden later on. there was hardly ever any sentimental "small-boy appeal,” and little comedy except that which arose naturally from the story. towards the end of the series, in the for- ties, producer harry sherman switched his distribution from paramount to united artists, and the first group of westerns under the new regime were of a gen- erally much higher standard: forty thieves and hoppy serves a writ in particular were among the best westerns boyd had made. however, shortly thereafter sher- man terminated his interest in the series, and boyd took over as producer-star. unfortunately, he failed to sustain sherman's high standards. his new films were al- most totally devoid of action, lacked good scripts, and were produced on very limited budgets. boyd himself was nearly bank- william boyd and villain clark gable (oppo- site) in the climactic showdown of the painted desert ( ). rupt when he finally ceased produc- tion on these inferior westerns. his re- turn to prominence on television is discussed elsewhere. the heroine one of the few real changes in the format of the western in the thirties was in the character of the heroine. formerly it had been the tradition for the heroine to be beautiful but help- less, a tradition thoroughly established by william s. hart, whose heroines were usually as passive, though not as comically absurd, as those of buster keaton. previously her main function had been to provide motivation: it was her cattle, or her ranch, that was being stolen by the villain. if she had a father or a brother to protect her, they were usually eliminated early in the proceed- ings. one of the strangest clichés of all was the fact that the heroine never had a mother! occasionally some cas- ual reference would be made, the father perhaps saying, “if your mother were alive....” but even that was rare, and the heroine usually appeared to be the offspring of but a single parent! the hero's romantic interest in the girl was rarely emphasized, despite the in- evitable last reel “clinch.” sex was present in the western only when the villain forced his attentions on the heroine, provoking the timely appear- ance of the hero and the inevitable fight. and even then, the heavy was usually trying to win the girl only for her property. naturally there are ex- ceptions to these generalizations, but for the most part the heroine did fill this passive and stodgy role. the western in the thirties, however, there was a change. the heroine became more self-reliant, more athletic, and even sexier. while it took the fifties to introduce the nude bathing scene as a cliché, it was not un- known in the thirties. esther ralston's diverting, if unnecessary, swim in the nude in to the last man was followed by a surprising climax in which she engaged the villain in an all-out fight to save the hero! the situation of the heroine about to be reluctantly married off to a lecherous villain was, of course, not unknown, in silent westerns either, but sound provided new opportunities for exploiting this line, especially in paramount's zane grey films in which the badman in question was invariably noah beery. his fruity delivery of his lines, expressing un- controlled lust, added a vigor to such films as the thundering herd and man of the forest. some westerns even went so far as to have a cowgirl heroine (the first since ruth mix) and to give her billing and prominence in the plot over the male lead. such was the case in the singing cowgirl which starred dorothy page. while romance remained a minor element in the "b" western, its importance was rising. the standard "city" triangles—two men in love with one girl or two girls after one man-began to invade even the “b” westerns, ranging from those like gun fire, made on the cheap at resolute, to the far more intelligent sol lesser production of when a man's a man. musical westerns further increased the heroine's participation and made her more of an active partner than a passive leading lady. while this trend became far more emphasized in the forties and fifties, its beginnings can be noted in many of the early gene autry and rov rogers westerns; in fact, roy rogers and mary hart (later known as lynne roberts) were billed as “the sweethearts of the west.” the western heroine took her cue from the times, too, in the matter of dress. figure-fitting, semi-transparent blouses and very tight trousers began to replace crinolines increasingly. it was no mere coincidence that westerns like when a man rides alone seemed to go out of their way to show their heroines in light, tight clothing, mounting their horses with the camera close by. gene autry and roy rogers the musical western cycle got under way in at republic. formerly known as mascot, the company had previously concentrated on cheap action pictures and serials. in the last months before mascot reorganized. nat levine, the firm's head, discovered gene autry, a former telegraph na len lore roy rogers and trigger. operator and a singer on radio. autry and his friend smiley burnette, a rotund low comic and hillbilly singer, were cast initially in two ken maynard vehicles. they had bit parts in the serial mystery mountain, but in what amounted to guest star roles they sang three numbers in succes- sion in a maynard feature, in old santa fe. this film, considered a “special” for mascot and directed by david howard, was an unusually good western, in many ways a sort of blueprint for the pattern that autry himself was later to follow. set on a dude ranch, its villainy combined modern racketeering with such traditional western elements as stage- coach robbing. there was a pronounced musical element, and even ken maynard sang several numbers; autry and burnette attracted at- gene autry smiley burnette a poster of the late thirties. the em- phasis on action lessens, and appeal is based mainly on the star's name. added credits promise the customers musical and comedy content as well. colorado sunset june storey barbara pepper larry buster" crabbe bobert baarat patsy montana cbs-kmbc texas rangers picture - - de good your cows vote for autr soe) the musical western at its most lunatic-show- girls, politics, and the west incongruously inter- woven in colorado sunset ( ). vote autry for tention and were promptly starred in a serial, phantom empire, a ludicrous affair for the most part, mixing tra- ditional western material with a science-fiction story about an under- ground kingdom! autry was pre- sented as a radio star, and part of the “suspense” evolved from his es- caping from various predicaments in time to meet his radio deadlines. phantom empire had the usual mas- cot fast pacing and frenzied action and the film was popular. autry played “himself” and thereafter, with the exception of shooting high at fox, was always cast as “gene autry.” this was something that none of the other western stars had ever done, but after autry's innova- tion the practice spread and at vari- ous times in their career roy rogers, bill elliott, johnny mack brown, whip wilson, allen lane, sunset carson, ray corrigan, jimmy wakely all used their own names in their movie adventures. phantom empire established autry as a completely new brand of west- ern hero, and, billed as “the sing- ing cowboy” he was thrust into a series of musical westerns, while smiley burnette went along to pro- vide comic relief. autry's films achieved tremendous popularity and put republic on the map. the earlier ones, reportedly made for as little as fifteen thousand dollars, soon turned him into more than just another western star. he was often listed as one of the ten top money- making stars alongside such names as clark gable and bette davis, and r : - - the western at one time he even appeared in fourth place! of course, autry made per- haps eight films a year while gable and davis rarely made more than two or three. although autry's place in western history is an important one, it is difficult to regard him as a serious western star: he was a popular singer who had something new to offer to westerns at a time when they were slipping back into the doldrums. a weak and colorless actor, and only a passable action performer, he could ride well, however, and with the help of republic's overworked stuntmen doubling for him, he won an enormous following almost overnight. republic always made the best fast-moving westerns. their photog- raphy was always first-rate, the stunting the best in the field, and the musical scores, in terms of incidental music, not songs, exceptionally good. the scores of william lava were particularly vigorous, as were those of cy feuer, later a prominent broadway impresario, who composed in the lava manner. this production knowledge brought unusual quality to the early autry films. pictures like tumbling tumbleweeds and red rivet valley combined excellently staged action with really strong and above- average plots, and a sensible proportion of comic foolery and songs. the yodellin' kid from pine ridge was another enjoyable film in this group, al- though it was an off-beat western that actually had a southern locale set in the turpentine forests of florida. in films like boots and saddles ( ), the musical and comic content was increased, however, to a degree where it almost completely dominated the proceedings. the film had a lively chase and several stunts midway through the picture, and a large-scale overland race for its climax, but otherwise it moved slowly, and the villainy was merely sandwiched in between songs and overlong comic routines. as autry's popularity grew, his budgets were raised, and the musical and other non-western ingre- dients became increasingly elaborate. the presentation of traditional western action in modern, overly “streamlined” western surroundings, together with an up-to-date chorus line, made the films ludicrous, little more than parodies of the orthodox western. republic then developed a second singing cowboy in roy rogers. publicity proudly sold him as a sensational discovery who had made his first film appearance for republic with the starring role in under west- ern stars. actually, rogers (whose real name was leonard slye and who hailed from duck run, ohio) had followed autry's route to stardom by appearing in bit roles. under the name of dick weston he had been one of the singing troupe, “the sons of the pioneers,” and he had also been seen in charles starrett westerns at columbia and-embarrassingly- with autry himself in several films. ironically, in the old corral he tontowed. had even had a fist fight with autry who then forced him to sing a song at the point of a gun! for a while autry resented republic's “build-up” of rogers, even though autry remained their number one star of west- erns. he quarreled with the studio and left the screen for a time, finally returning with the promise of better vehicles. although the first film under the new deal, gold mine in the sky, was a routine western, better ones followed. while autry was "in the saddle” republic generally gave rogers and his films less play. his pictures, while maintaining a high standard in the musical western field, were more cheaply produced and never given the commercial exploitation autry's films received. when a hit western song was purchased by republic, it was always autry who was starred in the western "special" built around it, the classic example of this being the enormously successful south of the border. another factor working against rogers was his youthful appearance and slim build; he appeared no match for the burly villains that he was pitted against. apparently his writers thought so, too, and often seemed to shun action in his pictures. fisticuffs were rare in rogers' westerns until the forties. then, when the musical western had lost its novelty and the tough thriller was in vogue, rogers' westerns almost went overboard in the bru- tality of their fights, fights in which much trucolor blood was shed. nevertheless, rogers' films were not, until the early forties at least, the virtual parodies of authentic westerns that autry's had become. autry's little troupe of hillbilly performers (the cass county boys and others of the thirties indian athlete jim thorpe in one of his many minor movie roles. with tex ritter (left) and slim andrews in arizona frontier ( ). a l dunensidera their ilk) continued to grow in size and activity, and live action continued to be of only secondary importance. autry actually was just a shrewd businessman who had no great in- terest in or respect for the western as such. he realized that his value as a show business personality (taking in also radio, rodeos, and ultimately television and his own production companies) depended on his almost comic-opera approach to the western. he also had the happy knack of being able to hide his shrewdness behind the amiable façade of the hill- billy singer; he was both a popular idol of the people, in the manner, if nothing else, of will rogers, and at the same time a highly successful businessman. roy rogers, on the other hand, had none of autry's busi- ness acumen and was to suffer for it in future years when the two western stars, in business on their own, were to be in direct competition with each other. the western autry's imitators naturally, the immediate success of republic's musical westerns prompted copies from other studios. usually imitations cannot help but be inferior to the original, but in this case there was an exception to the rule. warner's singing cowboy hero, dick foran, was not only vastly superior to autry as a singer, but he was a much better actor at dra- matics and action as well, and his westerns had exceptionally high pro- duction values. they were slick, glossy productions in which the action content remained dominant, while songs remained songs and never be- came production numbers. films like cherokee strip, land beyond the law, moonlight on the prairie, and devil's saddle legion (some of them remakes of silent maynard westerns or early john wayne “talkies” were excep- tionally fine low-budget westerns, well written and refreshingly free from low comedy. one of the perennial villains and supporting players in the series was gordon elliott, a warner contract player since , who was apparently getting nowhere. for an actor who had specialized in drawing-room material, he made a surprisingly convincing westerner. shortly after these foran films at warners he branched out as a west- ern star in his own right at columbia, developing a unique and effec- tively austere style. autry, rogers, and foran apart, the new musical western cycle pro- duced some interesting new heroes in tex ritter, jack randall, and bob baker; lesser ones in fred scott, john king, and smith ballew; and- much later, well into the forties—a vastly inferior crop in the ineffectual jimmy wakely (an obvious autry imitator), monte hale, and perhaps the thirties the most inept western hero of them all, eddie dean. all of these actors imitated autry's formula in the musical content of their films, but not in the musical treatment. these movies were still essentially westerns in which songs were only incidental. tex ritter was discovered and exploited by an imaginative independ- ent producer-director, edward finney. an authentic westerner with a broad texas drawl, ritter specialized in traditional folk songs rather than in the modern “western” ditties of autry, and was himself a writer of western songs. his films were vigorous, often staged on a surprisingly large scale, but their quality varied. some were built almost entirely around stock footage, the interpolation of complete indian attack se- quences from thomas ince's the deserter ( ) into roll wagons roll ( ), for example, only too apparent, even to the untrained eye. never- theless, the ritter-finney westerns maintained a generally high standard. westbound stage, down the wyoming trail (with a fine reindeer stampede sequence), and rolling westward were among the best of a monogram series. their only persistently negative factors were appallingly crude and repetitious musical scores by frank sanucci. jack randall, a former bit player, unfortunately arrived on the scene a little too late. he had a fine voice, superior to those of most of his rivals, but the market was flooded with musical westerns, and when monogram presented randall as one more singing cowboy, there were audible protests from exhibitor groups as a result, songs were deleted from completed randall westerns, and the bulk of the series made as normal action westerns. this was a pity, for randall was superior to most of his rivals, and had he been in- troduced a year earlier he might well have become one of the top sing- ing cowboys. randall was also a first-rate action star, performing many of his own stunts without a double; in overland mail, for example, he leaped from a galloping horse to a speeding stagecoach with the camera recording the whole action in close-up. the initial films in the randall series were produced by veteran scott r. dunlap, who had been associ- ated with griffith in his early days, and had directed many of the best silent buck jones westerns for fox. dunlap put real production value into his westerns in terms of good scripts, good directors, top camera- men, and magnificent locations. best of them all was riders of the dawn, a strong story which featured one of the most flawlessly constructed, staged, and photographed concluding reels ever put on film: a chase across saltflats that compares more than favorably with ford's chase in stagecoach. the unusual and dramatic placement of the camera and the perfect employment of running inserts helped to make this a memorable episode, and one of the best of its kind. randall's career was sadly cut short: while working on a serial at universal, he was thrown from his horse and killed. another singing cowboy who missed was bob baker. a pleasant personality, he was put into a series of musical westerns by universal but unfortunately, they were pedestrian, extremely low on action con- tent. although they had average production values and good directors (joseph h. lewis made some of the better ones), their lack of action prevented their popularity with juvenile audiences. baker made a good number of solo starring westerns before he was switched to a co-starring series with johnny mack brown. these, for a change, had plenty of action, but baker, although officially co-starred, actually did little more than sing a song or two and back up brown in the action. he made only six westerns with brown before dropping out of the series, and his activity thereafter was very limited—he never returned to starring roles in musical westerns. fred scott was another singing cowboy who lasted for only a few years. his westerns were made for an independent company, spectrum, and although cheaply made, they were often enjoyable. scott was billed as “the silvery voiced baritone,” and while his pictures and his voice were good, his personality and acting had little to speak for them. ranger's roundup was probably his best film. the western jack randall (center) and villain ed coxen (right) in one of the best of the “b” westerns of the thirties, riders of the dawn ( ). the singing cowboy myth: well-groomed, colorfully garbed cowboys sing on the range, in the sheriff's office, on the ranch at every opportunity. from courage of the west ( ). in the center are bob baker, glen strange, and lois january. laleiti ca dar -west other stars in the very early thirties warners made a fine series of john wayne westerns, many of them recalling the adventurous spirit of the silent fred thomson films. hunted gold, for example, had an exceptionally good sequence, the hero escaping by climbing up a crumbling mine shaft, a sequence that featured elaborate set construction and many bizarre and effective camera angles. another sequence in the film had wayne and the villain battling it out in a large ore bucket, suspended over a yawning chasm. the bottom falls out and the villain tumbles to his death; wayne is left dangling on a rope to be saved only by the intervention of his horse. never a maker of great westerns, columbia was one of the most con- sistently reliable producers of competent and fast-moving assembly-line westerns. their really early sound westerns with buck jones and tim mccoy deserve to be rated above the “assembly line” category. more- le . randy rides alone ( ), with john wayne and alberta vaughan. lt pa want ve over, in the mid-thirties columbia introduced some new western stars, of whom charles starrett was the best and also the longest to survive. the early starrett films, particularly two gun law, were interesting and enjoyable. but later plots tended to be too standardized, and this was also true of the casts. a columbia “stock company” of western players (dick curtis, ernie adams, edward le saint, jack rockwell) supported george o'brien. starrett and made the films look too much alike. two of the early star- rett films that stand out were the cowboy star, in which he played a dude western star who cleaned up a racketeering gang, and on secret patrol, one of several westerns filmed in canada. columbia also starred jack luden, a generally uninteresting western star, and bob allen in short-lived groups of pictures. allen was essen- tially a straight actor (he had appeared in crime and punishment and other films at columbia) and was rather colorless, but his films, especially ranger courage and when rangers step in, were on the whole very good. in the mid-thirties, too, columbia put ken maynard into a group of good westerns, such as lawless riders, avenging waters, and heroes of the range. the series that followed marked a return of buck jones to columbia in westerns that varied in quality to an amazing degree: overland express was a quality film of pony express days, but law of the texan and cali- fornia frontier were cheaply made, ineptly directed, and certainly among his weakest films. an attempt was made to bring jones “up-to-date" (the formula had worked quite well in his previous columbia series) by putting him into contemporary settings. in heading east he played a western rancher who came to the big city to smash a gang of racketeers that was victimizing lettuce-growers (!), and in hollywood roundup he played a double for a singularly unpleasant western star played by grant withers. columbia's last western star discovery of the thirties was gordon elliott, a former bit player who zoomed to unexpected stardom as the hero of a serial, the great adventures of wild bill hickok. he went on to make two more serials and a long-running series of “b” westerns. the first two of these, frontiers of ’ and in early arizona (suggested very loosely by the wyatt earp story) were unusually elaborate, carefully plotted, full of prime action. but after this promising start, it was not long before the elliott films declined badly and became cheap, unexcit- ing assembly-line products. columbia also made a few interesting films out of series. into this category fell heroes of the alamo, a competent his- torical western with lane chandler, and the sadly neglected the end of the trail. this fast-paced and dramatic western, an adaptation of a zane grey novel, starred jack holt and provided an unexpectedly moving climax. the hero (holt) has killed the villain (c. henry gordon), who had cold bloodedly killed a child. sentenced to death, holt walks alone to the gallows leaving his heart-broken best friend, the sheriff (guinn williams), and his fiancée sitting alone in his former cell play- ing a little tune on a record player. the thirties george o'brien was fox's top western star in the thirties, and his films were excellent examples of expertly made, yet economical, grade “b” pictures. exceptionally good was fair warning ( ), directed by alfred werker, with george brent among the supporting players. full of action and stunts and well played by o'brien with his usual sense of lively fun, it was a fine film of its class. later fox stopped making their own western series, instead releasing those made independently by sol lesser. these were split into two groups, one with smith ballew and the other with george o'brien. the smith ballew films were musical westerns. ballew was a likable but rather thin and decidedly non- muscular western star; he had a pleasant voice and could handle action well enough, but he failed to establish himself with the public. rawhide (which for novelty had lou gehrig, the baseball player, appearing as himself in a prominent supporting role) was his best film. the george o'brien group, while far below the standard of o'brien's previous fox series, contained nevertheless some interesting films. best of all was when a man's a man, based on a tale by harold bell wright; an unusually intelligent western, its strong story values more than compensated for its relatively light action content. character development was especially strong, for it was one of the few minor westerns to present a rejected suitor (paul kelly) in a sympathetic light. generally speaking, the lesser o'brien series put too much stress on comic and romantic digres- sions, and not enough on action; some of the films, dude ranger, in particular, seemed to go out of their way to avoid action. o'brien, how- ever, was fine in comic situations, and his cheeky sense of fun injected life into what would otherwise have been very routine westerns. monogram remained consistently active in the western field during the thirties, first with cheap but creditable little “b” westerns with tom tyler, bob steele, bill cody, rex bell, and john wayne; and later with tom keene, jack randall, tex ritter, and tim mccoy. after a temporary hiatus following the changeover from fbo and the brief abandonment of “b” westerns, rko re-entered the field in the early thirties with some high-caliber tom keene vehicles (freighters of destiny was one of the best) and a few interesting westerns with creighton chaney (lon chaney, jr.). george o'brien made a series of independ- ent westerns, similar to those for fox, for rko release. these also tended to overemphasize comedy, films like hollywood cowboy, although one "special" in the group, daniel boone, was well made on a surprisingly large scale, adopting a sensible proportion of comedy to action. the o'brien westerns took a distinct upswing when rko began producing them within their own organization. they were well above average with the western their strong plots and some splendid action sequences. o'brien rarely used a double of any kind; if films like trouble in sundown and border g- man were a trifle slow in terms of action, then racketeers of the range, prairie law, and lawless valley more than made up for the deficiencies. the latter is probably the best western o'brien made, if one excludes his prime fox period, with an intelligent script, first-rate action, and a fine cast headed by walter miller and the two kohlers, fred, sr., and fred, jr. o'brien’s westerns were more popular with adults than most “b”s, not only because he could act, or because he was remembered with affection from the twenties, but also because his light touch with humor never failed to please. the leading maker of westerns in the sound era was republic whose schedules in the thirties were a trifle complicated. for example, the in- dependent westerns of a. w. haeckle starring bob steele and johnny mack brown, some of which were made directly for republic and some for his own company, supreme, which for a time released through republic. the haeckle westerns were routine and undistinguished as to plot and direction, but also fast paced and full of action. the steele films were given the greater production values, and cavalry stands out as being the best. the brown films were strictly assembly-line products, but brown himself was one of the best of the western stars, a fine athlete and a pleasing performer (he had of course been a “top-liner" at mgm in the late twenties and early thirties, playing opposite garbo, crawford, mary pickford, and other great female stars. republic for a time was merged with monogram, but the association was brief. when he left monogram, john wayne switched to republic for a good series of historical westerns (winds in the wastelands and the lawless nineties among them), many of which featured ann rutherford as the heroine, and which had yakima canutt involved predominantly in the action. the wayne films were made on a fairly large scale, and they provided much stock footage for later westerns. republic never made a really bad western in this period, and even the weakest had elements to recommend it. apart from this series and the autry and rogers musical westerns, republic also produced one of the best western series any studio has ever made—the “three mesquiteers” group. dedicated to action first, last, and always, but with pleasant comic moments provided by max terhune, a ventriloquist, they carefully avoided the “streamlined" plots and muscial elements of the autry and rogers films. based very loosely on the stories of william colt macdonald (and after a while, only on his characters) the films strangely contradicted each other with regard to the western leads in the first film, but saylor dropped out immediately and max terhune took over. john wayne assumed livingstone's role a few years later. other stars who were involved as the mesquiteers at one time or another were bob steele, tom tyler, rufe davis, jimmy dodd, ray- mond hatton, and duncan renaldo. leading ladies involved in their escapades included louise brooks (the lovely star of pandora's box and diary of a lost girl in what was to be her last american film, overland stage raiders), carole landis, rita (hayworth) cansino, and jennifer jones—the latter appearing under her real name, phyllis isley, several years before the song of bernadette. each independent company had its own series of cheap westerns, and some companies, like resolute, made only westerns. particularly good were the westerns of ambassador pictures, normally directed by sam newfield, cheaply produced, with a maximum of outdoor work and a minimum of interiors, but for the most part very competent and full of fast action. they starred kermit maynard, the slightly older brother of ken, and a brilliant trick rider. he had started out in silent westerns as tex maynard, but never quite achieved real stardom. he was a much better actor than ken, however, and when "talkies” came in he became more active, first as a stuntman and bit player (as in mascot's serial, phantom of the west), and later as an established star. kermit's popularity never approached that of ken, probably because he never graduated from the “independent” market, but he was a likable player and did extremely well in his limited sphere. the riding sequences and chases in his films were always extremely well photographed, and often gave his little action westerns, such as the red blood of courage, whistling bullets, and galloping dynamite, significant production value. among the many other independent companies operating were spec- trum, tiffany (in the very early thirties they made some unusually good ken maynard films: texas gunfighter, whistling dan, branded men), puritan (producers of one good tim mccoy, bulldog courage, and many amazingly slow and generally inferior ones), and first division (for whom hoot gibson appeared in some interesting, if rather crude, westerns). the number of western stars who appeared in both major studio (in- cluding for our purposes, republic and monogram) products and in those of the independents was relatively few. ken maynard and tim mccoy were the biggest stars to follow this course, each appearing in any number of series for producers of marked difference in stature, ranging from universal and columbia to sam katzman's victory pic- tures. the bulk of the lesser western stars stayed firmly within the the thirties boundaries of the independent market, the greatest number of them, like bob custer, edmund cobb, wally wales, reb russell, bill cody, and rex lease, never achieving any major status. basically, most of these players were just good-looking athletes who were not good enough actors to get by in the sound era. it was not merely a question of voice; sometimes it was even a matter of literacy! jack hoxie, a very popular universal silent western star, is said to have been unable to read his scripts; he projected as rather an oafish cowboy in sound films, and thus he, too, was limited to the lowest grade western outfits. as the motion picture herald remarked in reviewing a typical independent western of , westward bound: “... the actors appearing in this film may have been sufficiently competent in the days now gone, of the silent, gun brandishing cowboy pictures, but they are hardly capable in the era of talking films. the lines are spoken for the most part with an utter lack of all the rules of elocution.” with the renewed popularity of the “b” western following in the wake of the musical westerns, the late thirties saw the horse opera at its all- time peak in terms of quantity production. the epic western had made a tentative return in , and had vanished almost immediately, but in (and in the first two years of the forties) more western stars than at any other period in movie history were all working simultane- ously. no less than thirty western stars, including old-timers like buck jones, ken maynard, and tim mccoy, were grinding out groups of eight westerns a year each, making an approximate total of “b” westerns in a given year. this situation was to continue for a few years before a decline began. the re-emergence of the epic in with stagecoach and union pacific, and the steadily increasing production costs in the forties were to contribute greatly to this decline, but it was after all a quantitative decline from a rather staggering high. s birth and demise “we know that the wells that dry up serials were, comparatively speaking, late in reaching the screen, coinciding with the ar- rival of the feature film of five reels or more, and came into being primarily as novelty attractions. in , the edison company's “what happened to mary? " series was put into production to tie in with a newspaper serial of the same name. its principal impor- tance was in getting the serial film started, although it was not essentially a serial in construction, but rather a series, a group of shorts featuring the same character and with a slight connecting theme. the adven- tures were usually melodramatic, often in- volved physical action, and always resolved themselves within the episode. the hazards of helen, made in , al- though a railroad series, had, however, defi- nite elements of the western serial in its construction and action ingredients. the perils of pauline, also begun in , has come to be regarded as the prototype of silent serials but it was actually still a series film in that episodes did not end on notes of sus- pense, and in that there was really no cohe- sive story line. parts of it took place in the west, making it the first serial to contain western material. perhaps because of its title and star (it marked the serial debut of pearl white) the perils of pauline has acquired an undeserved reputation as the greatest of silent serials. although important as a mile- stone, and vastly entertaining today, it is a surprisingly crude serial, with abysmally poor writing, barely adequate photography, are the wells from which no water is dipped.” bÉla balÁzs and, occasionally effective moments of cross-cutting excepted, very primitive editing. all told, in both silent and sound eras, slightly more than four hun- dred serials were made. most popular in the silent era were what we can somewhat ambiguously term “adventure” serials. these action thrillers do not fit into any other set classification and include such items as scotty of the scouts, the fortieth door, and any number of fire-fighting and circus stories—two themes that disappeared from serials completely after / carol wayne and monte blue in the columbia serial, the great adventures of wild bill hickok ( ). the first few years of sound. in second place, with sixty titles, came the western. (in the sound era, the category increased to eighty titles over a somewhat longer period of time.) the western can therefore be considered the genre that was given priority in serials, since the “adventure" groups is really a collection of groups. and the total of sixty titles would actually be increased considerably if one also included the borderline cases such as the tiger's trail and the perils of pauline which had pronounced, if not exclusive, western ingredients. the lone ranger, one of the most successful serials of the thirties. universal maintained high standards, too, with their buck jones and johnny mack brown serials, which had plenty of fast-paced action and excellent photography. but independent serials of the thirties tended to be rather inept, their crudity emphasized by the fact that they often chose very ambitious themes which simply could not be treated adequately on a shoestring budget. for example, custer's last stand, a sixteen-episode serial, fell back heavily on obviously ancient stock footage, and the final “last stand” was little more than a mild skirmish between several dozen horsemen. to counterbalance its inadequate action, it had a top- heavy plot which seemed to incorporate most of the standard western themes within its framework: the indian princess hopelessly in love with the western the hero, the hero seeking the man who killed his brother, the cowardly army officer who must redeem himself ... and similar old chestnuts, here dealt with only superficially anyway. its principal virtue was its strong cast-old-timers such as william farnum, william desmond, jack mulhall, frank mcglynn, josef swickard, and others—supporting rex lease, dorothy gulliver, reed howes, george cheseboro, chief thundercloud, bobby nelson, and other reliables of the independent producers of the thirties. in the repertory company tradition of the old biograph days, many of the players doubled up. for example, ted adams, heavily bearded, played buffalo bill in one episode, and a scoundrel in another. generally speaking, custer's last stand is typical of the lower grade of independent serial: slowly paced, stodgy, and of little interest apart from its cast. independent serials made less headway in the sound era than they had in the silent, and by , serial output had dwindled to twelve per year, four each from columbia, republic, and universal. in later years, the number was cut to three, and then two, from each studio, with reis- sues making up the difference so that each studio could offer exhibitors the required contractual package of four, sufficient to supply a theater's annual need. the decline of western serials paralleled the decline of “b” westerns generally; just as gordon of ghost city, made in the early thirties, had been strong, virile stuff of the same caliber as universal's regular west- erns, so did later serials like the oregon trail reflect the "streamlined” but standardized action of “b” westerns of the late thirties. apart from the presence of johnny mack brown as the star, and the still effec- tively edited climaxes, the oregon trail was a pedestrian affair, loosely constructed, and excessively reliant on stock footage. so carelessly was it put together at times that the beginning of one episode did not even match the end of the preceding one. in one episode brown was left beneath the hooves of a stampeding herd; the following episode made no reference at all to the stampede. nevertheless, with all their short- comings, universal's western serials did have fast action, good casts, and excellent scores. and, to their credit, universal did occasionally try really hard with specific serials. in they claimed that their riders of death valley was the most expensive serial of all time. certainly it was made on a very large scale, with good location work, fine photography, and care taken in the musical and other departments. (mendelssohn's “fingal's cave overture” was surprisingly, but most agreeably, used as background music.) however, most of the increased budget seemed to have been used on a particularly strong cast (dick foran, buck jones, the western serial charles bickford, lon chaney, monte blue, leo carrillo, noah beery, jr., william hall), for “corner-cutting” showed, certainly in the rep- etition of previously seen footage. this work showed signs of careless- ness too-sometimes it was a little too obvious that rod cameron was doubling for buck jones, even in straightforward non-action scenes. columbia's western serials were often produced on a surprisingly large scale, particularly overland with kit carson, and were certainly full of action, but their scripts were always extremely weak. plot were almost nonexistent, and the serials—which ran to fifteen episodes—were little more than series of fights, escapes, intrigues and counter-intrigues. republic certainly maintained the highest overall standards in western serials, doubtless because for that studio the serial had always been more of a “bread-and-butter" item than it had been for either universal or columbia. during the war years, republic made a short-lived, but in- teresting, move to restore the serial to favor. the vigor of the renaissance made the serial's sudden decline after the war an unexpected shock. the independently produced serial had, of course, completely disap- peared by now. universal attempted to inject new life into their serials by such innovations as eliminating synopses to identify previous action, and substituting naïve dialogue explanations. when so-called added story values were introduced, they usually diminished the essential action. the royal mounted rode again, had a particularly inept and unattrac- tive hero in bill kennedy (he later switched to villain roles) and the dialogue strangely went out of its way to emphasize his lack of athletic ability. when one of the villains escapes, kennedy is urged to pursuit, but demurs "because he has too much of a head start.” his crony, an old-timer, then offers him a horse, and when kennedy still appears re- luctant, adds “it's a very gentle horse.” since this was not done for comedy, one can only assume that everyone concerned was getting a little tired of this pedestrian serial, and that uncalled-for lines and situ- ations were slipping into it. this suspicion is further heightened by a fantastic climax in which the saloon, headquarters of the villains, is suddenly revealed to be a made-over river boat. the “saloon” then hoists anchor and steams away down a river, the existence of which had never been hinted at before. by universal had made its last serial, leaving the field to co- lumbia and republic; but by that time rustlers and master criminals had become things of the past; the atomic age now exerted its influence on serials. mad scientists gleefully plotted the destruction of the world, and the inhabitants of other planets, unmindful of the lessons of flash gordon the western ten years earlier, set their sights on conquering the universe, and espe- cially the earth. the anti-communist feeling also found its way into serials, and not a few were used for crude progaganda. nationalities were never mentioned, of course, but since the villains were invariably named ivan or boris, and spoke non-stop about the “unimportance of the individual,” the “liberation of the people,” and “the liquidation of the leader's enemies,” it became fairly obvious that world peace was not being threatened by samoans. western serials had little to offer in the way of competition to holly- wood versions of the present and the future. columbia and republic cut down the number of western serials to only one each per year. at republic, the slickness and speed of the serials, to a degree, compensated for their tired subject matter, but columbia's products had still less to recommend them. republic's last few serials, including the man with the steel whip, another western deriving from the zorro theme, were pitiful shadows of the company's former fine episodic adventures. republic eased out of the field a few months ahead of columbia, leaving to columbia's blazing the overland trail, produced in and released in , the dis- tinction of being the last serial made in the united states-unless of course some completely unforeseen circumstances should bring about a revival. rising production costs and television are the reasons given for the decline of both the “b” western and the serial. not only was television using many of the film serials' heroes (kit carson, wild bill hickok, the lone ranger) for its own series, but it was also reviving many of the best serials from their peak period—the mid-thirties. these elabo- rately mounted affairs and television's own expensive filmed series put the contemporary, very cheaply made, movie serials on the hopeless defensive. today it seems that the serial in general is a matter only for history. while television can utilize old movie serials, its programming is such that it would find expensive new serials, filmed to its own format, rather cumbersome under television conditions. the present television series films have no continuity, other than of character, and so can be used in any order for reruns, or, of course, run singly. so far, the only real serials to attract the attention of television pro- ducers have been soap operas. with the plethora of theatrical westerns already on television, and the medium's endless supply of its own west- erns, it does not seem possible that television will restore the serial certainly, it is even more unlikely that the movie industry will do so. with all the great western stars either dead or in retirement, and, since it is sure that any serials that resulted from renewed interest would in- evitably be cheap and inferior to their predecessors of the twenties and thirties, perhaps the death of the serial is just as well. s. workou uslon replay the good badman, wallace beers. the forties “making movies is a game played by a few thousand toy-minded folk.” ben hecht renaissance of the epic while it is true that the depression in the united states persisted into the late thirties, conditions had improved to the extent that a new national optimism took root. holly- wood reflected this new spirit in a return to inspiring themes of national progress, and naturally the western featured prominently in this trend. however, this important theme in the genre merely served to re-establish the epic western as a box-office commodity, and it did not noticeably sustain itself beyond the first two films of the new cycle. although cecil b. de mille's union pacific was inferior to john ford's silent the iron horse, while covering virtually the same ground, it was a better film than de mille's previous western, the plainsman. its story of empire-building took in all the spectacular elements one would expect from a de mille version of the construction of a mighty rail- road: indian attacks, a train crashing into a chasm as it tries to forge its way through a snowbound canyon, a pay roll robbery, wild fist fights, strikes organized by selfish polit- ical interests anxious to delay the building ) of the railroad and the inevitable brawl in which the railroad workers wreck a crooked gambling saloon. union pacific, which starred paramount's popular team, joel mccrea and barbara stanwyck, was an exciting large- scale western but not an inspiring one. the sense of national pride was not as strongly present as it had been in the iron horse and indeed it was largely ignored by the pro- ducers until the rather mawkish climax was . . ter o e john ford directing stagecoach ( ), with bert glennon at the camera. is the heroine. certainly, there are superficial similarities in both the action of the two tales and in the conception of the heroine's character. the basic differences, of course, are stressed by the fact that haycox's heroine redeems herself in the eyes of all by her courageous actions during the indian attack, while de maupassant, less sentimentally, more cynically, and perhaps more honestly, shows the passengers turning on her, despising her again, once crisis and her own usefulness are past. although designed more as a western melodrama than as an histor- ical western, nevertheless, its carefully etched backgrounds—the estab- lishment of telegraphic communication, the patrolling of the frontier by the cavalry, the role played by the stagecoach in the opening up of the west-made it a far more important contribution to hollywood western lore than union pacific. film historians—in particular, some european critics—have tended to overrate stagecoach as a film and to regard it as the yardstick by which all westerns should be measured. the reasons for this exaggerated eval- the climax of de mille's union pacific, the linking of the rails. so daniel boone (george o'brien) and the white renegade simon girty (john carradine) in daniel boone ( ). jesse james. of course, outlaws had been presented on the screen before in at least a partially sympathetic light, but now the tendency was almost apologetic, and sought to prove that virtually all of the west's more notorious badmen had been forced into a life of crime by a com- bination of unfortunate circum- stances, not the least of which were the activities of crooked law en- forcement officers. jesse james was followed by, among others, when the daltons rode, billy the kid, badmen of missouri (the younger brothers), and the return of frank james, the first of fritz lang's three westerns. this last film, in typical lang style, glamorized the colorful villainy of john carradine as opposed to the dull heroics of henry fonda. lang went one better in his next, western union, which told of the construction of the telegraph lines, by so stressing the character of the outlaw (randolph scott) that he became, in effect, the film's hero, quite overshadowing the “official” heroes (robert young and dean jagger). incidentally, through a deal made with the zane grey estate, fox advertised the film as “zane grey's western union,” although it was merely a screenplay written by a fox contract writer; no such book had ever existed. following the release of the film, interest in the nonexist- ent book by zane grey's fans was so strong that a book based on the film was actually written, published, the good badman and the bad badman meet for the show- down. humphrey bogart, traditionally dressed in villain's black, and james cagney square off in the oklahoma kid ( ). the western and credited to zane grey, who had died in , two years earlier! the cause of the whitewashed bandit was furthered by a series of wallace beery westerns at mgm in which he played the role the public so closely associated with him, that of the lovable rogue. his pre- westerns at metro (the badman of brimstone, for example) had their sentimental elements, of course, but they stopped short of presenting beery as a completely sympathetic scoundrel. in the post-jesse james period all this was changed, and in films like the badman of wyoming and bad bascomb his nobility acquired mawkish proportions. bad bas- comb, made in , was a particularly distressing example of this sentimentalizing process, for the entire film was devoted to the refor- mation of an apparently ruthless outlaw by a small child, played by margaret o'brien. the film had two rousing climactic reels and one of the best indian attacks on a covered wagon train that the forties had to offer, but the lugubrious fadeout in which beery, having saved the wagon train at the cost of his freedom, bids farewell to a tearful margaret as he is taken away by the law to face the hangman, was one of the grimmest moments movie audiences had to face that year. a particularly good film in the “lovable rogue” category was warners the oklahoma kid starring james cagney and humphrey bogart. few large-scale westerns have been as faithful to the traditions of horse opera as was this picture, which completely avoided the stodgy pretentiousness that afflicted billy the kid and so many other big-budget westerns. it was fast, vigorous action all the way, complete even to the last-reel fist fight in the saloon. at the same time it had a number of pleasing variations on standard western clichés; at one point, the hero rides into town just too late, for once, to save his father from being lynched by the vil- lains. another great asset was the creative camera work of james wong howe. perhaps unwittingly aiding in sustaining the old-time western flavor was the film's unnecessary but pleasing use of subtitles to cover gaps in time and place. one subtitle bridging a gap tells us: “a hundred miles away the kid continued to play his cards the way he saw them," a subtitle that could have been lifted from any ince western. undoubtedly some of the western badmen had been, at least partially, victims of circumstance (the woman guerilla and later bandit, belle starr, is a case in point), and others, such as the civil war renegade, quantrill, may well have been inspired by unselfish motives, but this cycle of the forties followed a set pattern: to completely idealize “pop- ular” outlaws like jesse james and to create complete villains from more complex and less "exciting” figures like quantrill and even john brown. this standardization was furthered by the “b” westerns: in these films billy the kid, jesse james, and others were transformed into conven- tional western heroes so that stars like buster crabbe, bob steele, and roy rogers couid, without offense, play them. as always, this conformity soon became tiring. when producers of horror films in this period, for example, found customers less interested, their first move was to offer two monsters for the price of one (frankenstein meets the wolf man) and later three or four (house of frankenstein offered the monster, the wolf man, dracula, a mad doctor, and a psychopathic hunchback). so it was with the westerns. first, comparatively obscure western badmen were unearthed and given the whitewash treatment (sam bass, jack mccall). then, hollywood's writers contrived to have jesse james, belle starr, the daltons, sam bass, quantrill, and sundry others join forces for organized crime waves which belonged more to the gangster era than to the old west. in most of these whitewashing was not even attempted in order to provide the requisite amount of brutality and viciousness expected of such a line-up of outlaws; needless to say, any pretense at historical accuracy was likewise abandoned. some of the more interesting of these films were made by rko radio (badmen's territory, return of the bad men, best of the badmen), usually as vehicles for randolph scott; seldom did any u. s. marshal ever have to face such an array of concentrated villainy, in reality or on film. the forties historical westerns apart from the group of “badman” westerns, the early forties saw a tremendous upsurge in historical westerns, particularly at warners. in dodge city, swashbuckling errol flynn switched to cowboy heroics. although his mild manner, careful diction, and well-groomed appear- ance seemed to mark him as an unlikely western hero, the film itself was well made; while not markedly original, it was certainly one of the most elaborate and exciting films of the "towntaming” school. three other elaborate flynn vehicles followed. virginia city was a well-plotted adventure of gold robbery during the civil war with flynn representing the north, aided by his perennial movie cronies, alan hale and guinn williams, and randolph scott representing the south. humphrey bogart was cast none too convincingly as a mexican bandit. it was fast moving, flawlessly photographed, and well scored. santa fe trail which followed, and which preceded high noon by several years in having a theme song, “along the santa fe trail,” to publicize the film well ahead of its release, was a fairly accurate reconstruction of the campaign against john brown's abolitionist movement. it was cli- errol flynn as general george custer in they died with their boots on ( ). haps a tenth of what de mille had spent on his northwest mounted police, geronimo was vastly more entertaining. mgm in the early forties was still considered the studio of the top stars, the center of hollywood's traditional glamour and luxury. per- haps because of this, it seemed to hold westerns in comparatively low regard, making fewer of them than any other studio. in , both nelson eddy (in a very strange, multi-starred historical western called let freedom ring) and robert taylor (cast opposite wallace beery in stand up and fight, a story of stagecoach-locomotive competition) had failed to make the grade as western heroes. in the forties, taylor tried again in billy the kid ( ). this film had one fine chase sequence, but other- wise was boring, cliché-ridden, and not at all a suitable vehicle for the actor at that time. in the postwar period a more mature taylor proved surprisingly suited to westerns and appeared in half-a-dozen good ones for mgm. gable, also “too valuable to be wasted” in westerns in the thirties and early forties, made several for mgm, fox, and united artists in the postwar years. spencer tracy, a more rugged type, and robert young, regarded by mgm as a second-string taylor, teamed in northwest passage. directed by king vidor in , it was hardly a western in the accepted sense, but worthy of note here inasmuch as mgm at that period was making so few films even casually related to the western. a spectacular adaptation of the first of kenneth roberts' two novels on rogers’ rangers, it was to be followed by an adaptation the forties at other studios some interesting westerns were being made. kit carson was one of these, directed by that old serial maestro, george b. seitz, for united artists. its spectacular indian attack sequence, almost a full reel of large-scale, well-organized mass action, was one of the best things of its kind since the big trail. and at a time when indians were being depicted in the conventional fashion as unmotivated savages, this film made quite a point of stressing the inhumanity of the treatment meted out to them by the army. unfortunately, kit carson seems to have had financial difficulties; apparently the money ran out and the last reel was finished off very cheaply, robbing the film of a dramatic last punch. one of the most outstanding westerns of this period was william wyler's the westerner, a strange, moody, unevenly paced vehicle for gary cooper. its austerity and unglamorous picture of the west made it unpopular. judge roy bean, one of the old west's most colorful char- acters, as played by walter brennan, emerged as a much more interest- ing protagonist than hero cooper; indeed, bean later became the central character of a popular television series. intelligently cast, the action content unusually well handled (the fights were often clumsy, as they should be when farmer fights cowhand, and as they seldom are when western star fights stunt man), the westerner was a serious work, indeed. columbia's western record in the period is a peculiar one. like par- amount the company was expert at turning out slick, action-packed “b” westerns; like paramount, too, columbia seemed unable to trans- late that expertise into the making of their large-scale westerns. arizona, made for columbia by wesley ruggles as his first epic since cimarron, was a large, ambitious undertaking in the old style of vidor and grif- fith. it told an important story—the development of arizona-on a vast, sprawling canvas. it had the integrity neither to glamorize nor to introduce action for its own sake. its careful reconstruction of the old mud-adobe town of tucson has been preserved by the state of arizona as a historical monument. some sequences were beautifully staged and photographed: using miles of telephone wire to boom his instructions over a vast area, ruggles created a memorable panorama of the people of tucson watching the union troops withdraw, their ranks spread over miles of country, burning the wheat fields as they leave. yet despite such great moments, arizona was an even duller film than wells fargo. it seldom moved or inspired, and thus it lost the epic quality that had dis- tinquished ruggles' cimarron. possibly the fault lay with the original story by clarence buddington kelland, better known as the creator of scattergood baines, a home- spun small-town philosopher, than as a writer of national epics. it out- ticket to tomahawk, a light-hearted film with some musical elements which still managed to treat its western material seriously. it was in many ways a better film than the more highly touted annie get your gun, although the music, of course, was less ambitious. harry sherman's buffalo bill, directed by william wellman, was far too sentimental, as was another wellman western of the same period, the great man's lady, made for paramount, but it was an interesting and colorful film. its great battle—indians and the cavalry fighting to the death in the middle of a shallow river—was certainly exciting and the spectacular staging was in large part responsible. although readily recognizable because of its dis- tinctive locale, this complete battle sequence was re-used twice by fox in the fifties, once in pony soldier, and again a year or so later in siege at a scene from john ford's wagon- master ( ), one of the most poignant westerns of recent times. / . /. red river, one of leonard goldstein's “panoramic productions” for wide-screen. critics with short memories were easily fooled. to a man they praised the battle scene that was over a decade old, and pointed out how much better wide-screen films could present this sort of mass action than the "old-fashioned" small screens! from the studio's rather routine assortment one outstanding film emerged in the period. it was john ford's retelling of the wyatt earp legend in my darling clementine, adapted from the book wyatt earp, frontier marshall by sam hellman and stuart lake. the story had seen service before, of course, including a fox version in (frontier mar- the western shall with randolph scott as earp and cesar romero as holliday) which contained several incidents repeated by ford in his film. among these was the capture in the saloon of a drunken indian, played by charles stevens in both versions. ford's account of earp's story was lei- surely and effectively non-spectacular. the exciting action sequences, particularly a chase after a stagecoach and the climactic duel at the o. k. corral, were filmed with authority, but action as such was not al- lowed to dominate the development, playing thus a relatively small part in the proceedings. shot largely in ford's beloved monument valley, the film was quiet, sensitive, and a visual delight, next to wagon- master perhaps the most satisfying of all ford's westerns. it was not an enormous commercial success, but it did prove popular enough, and the critics were almost unanimous in their praise. the new york times re- marked: “... ford is a man who has a way with a western like nobody in the picture trade ... a tone of pictorial authority is struck-and held. every scene, every shot is the product of a keen and sensitive eye-an eye which has deep comprehension of the beauty of rugged people and a rugged world. fonda ... shows us an elemental character who is as real as the dirt he walks on.” and time commented: “... horse opera for the carriage trade ... [ford's] camera sometimes pauses, with a fresh childlike curiosity, to examine the shape and texture of a face, a pair of square-dancing feet, a scrap of desert landscape, or sunlit dusty road. the leisurely lens-a trick europeans frequently overdo and hollywood seldom attempts makes some of ford's black-and-white sequences as richly lifelike as anything ever trapped in technicolor. victor mature appeared as holliday, with walter brennan and tim holt as the leaders of the clanton clan. ford's three subsequent large-scale westerns (for argosy, releasing through rko) were fort apache ( ), she wore a yellow ribbon ( ), and wagonmaster (made in , but not released until ). she wore a yellow ribbon, unashamedly sentimental, strikingly photographed in vivid technicolor, is regarded by many as the most typical ford west- ern of all, although the far less elaborate black-and-white wagon- master, a western almost completely neglected, was a much superior production. the values of wagonmaster have been rather distorted by europe's john ford “cult” (with its headquarters seemingly in and around london's sight and sound publication) which has blown it up into an odyssey and read into it values—and meanings—that ford doubtless never intended. wagonmaster is a beautiful little film, ford expressing his love of both the west and the western film, using incred- ibly lovely images and a moving score of western hymns and folksongs to pay tribute to the old westerner as an individual, not as just one of a special breed of men, or as a crusader for national progress. wagon- master is as close to a genuine western film-poem as we have ever come, but attempts by ford's admirers to enlarge it beyond that do both it and ford a disservice. wagonmaster is a film that should be seen, felt, and, above all, fairly evaluated. the forties a social western: the ox-bow incident fox's other outstanding western of the forties was william wellman's the ox-bow incident, adapted by lamar trotti from the novel by walter van tilburg clark. the sheer power and dynamism of the film derive directly from the original novel, which is followed faithfully but for minor details. this is no discredit to the picture, but critical appraisal has tended to shift emphasis and credit to the contributions of trotti and wellman. wellman's direction was certainly very competent; he had a subject to which, for the first time since his powerful early thirties' films (beggars of life, public enemy) he could really devote all of his considerable talents. he created powerful images, stark characters, disturbing thoughts -or rather he reflected them, for they all were inherent in the original work. he added little creativity of his own, but certainly the film would have been a lesser film with another director at the helm, for another director might have overlooked the power, starkness, and significance of the original source. the story is a grim and depressing one. a posse takes out after a gang of cattle thieves. some members of the posse are ranchers who have a right to be concerned; others are drifters, suddenly sucked into the frenzy and blood-lust; others still are men for whom the proposed lynch- ing provides an outlet for their own sadism, with the resulting guilt, if any, to apply to the group rather than to them as individuals. they corner three men (dana andrews, anthony quinn, and francis ford) who could be guilty. but the evidence is only circumstantial, and the men violently protest their innocence, an innocence which they claim can be easily proved in a day's time. their pleas sway some of the posse but the personal magnetism of the posse's leader, an ex-confederate army officer, welds the bulk of the party into an organized force demanding the execution of the three men. at dawn the next day, still protesting their innocence, the victims are hung. after the lynchings, positive proof comes that the men were innocent. although the sheriff who has brought this news declares that the executioners will be tried and punished, clearly, any such punishment can only be nominal. the in- parodies and satires in the forties, with the phrase "adult western” still almost twenty years away, westerns were sophisticated enough to stop taking them- selves so seriously and to start poking fun at themselves. this was not an entirely new development, of course. well before , mack sennett had kidded westerns mercilessly in satires like his bitter pill, and fair- banks had genially poked fun at the cult of the western hero. but al- though there had been a great many films of this sort, they could not be said to represent a trend any more than it could be said of ruggles of red gap or laurel and hardy's way out west in the thirties. but in , such a trend did begin with universal's destry rides again, directed by george marshall. its success can doubtless be explained by its very defi- nite novelty and for the opportunity it gave marlene dietrich to dis- play the talents she had made famous. it was a “different” western, cer- tainly, but the differences made dyed-in-the-wool western devotees shudder, especially those who recalled with pleasure the old tom mix version. to them the new destry rides again seemed a betrayal of the western, and their opinion has not changed with time; here is one case where nostalgia for the past has not worked its magic on the celluloid image. quite to the contrary, the film seems slower and more the forties anthony quinn, dana andrews, and francis ford as the innocent victims of the lynch mob in the ox-bow incident ( ). james stewart and marlene dietrich have it out in destry rides again ( ). • abbott and costello with doug- las dumbrille (center) and iron eyes cody (right) in a bur- lesqued western, ride 'em cowboy ( ). pointless today, especially with a likable and intelligent third version around, starring audie murphy and released by universal in . perhaps the one solid contribution of destry rides again to western films was a particularly fine score by frank skinner, one of the best ever composed for a western, and put to good use by universal in areas other than film ever since. the film also stimulated a certain levity towards the western, and a number of satires resulted. trail of the vigilantes happily disposed of its somewhat witless lampooning in the first four reels, and thereafter got down to the serious business at hand. much of the action was admittedly tongue-in-cheek, but it was so well staged with all the customary universal zip, that no one really minded. one of the most enjoyable of all western satires was the marx brothers' go west, which, combining groucho's rapid-fire patter with keatonesque sight gags, reduced to shambles western plotlines, villainy, and action. its climactic locomotive chase suggested a close study of keaton's the general, and when it didn't score on its own fast slapstick or its wisecracks, is was making short work of western plot and dialogue clichés. even the inevitable romantic interest was played for its cliché value. no cycle of western satires ever really evolved, however, although it soon became familiar routine for comedians to go through their established patterns against western backgrounds (jack benny in buck benny rides again, bob hope in his two paleface films and fancy pants, martin and lewis in pardners, and abbott and costello, whose ride 'em cowboy was one of the best of this species). destry rides again ( ) did not influence these films directly, but its success must have induced producers to further explore the field of “novelty” westerns and to settle, somewhat unimaginatively, for the broad comic approach. when deliberate satire was attempted, as in the king brothers’ the dude goes west, it was usually far too heavy-handed and less amusing than the purely slapstick approach. however, the tongue-in-cheek western has enjoyed more of a vogue since , and even stars like gary cooper (along came jones), john wayne (a lady takes a chance, north to alaska), and rod cameron (frontier gal) have taken a broad comic approach in certain westerns, although it is per- haps no coincidence that these ventures were not among their most popular efforts. the forties the “b” western the forties were characterized by the proliferation of “b” westerns. at rko, when the george o'brien series came to a close early in the period, tim holt became the studio's leading cowboy. an excellent series of zane grey westerns, initially with bob mitchum and later with james warren, completed the field for that studio. at universal, the johnny mack brown series provided some of the best and fastest westerns, full of action and made with excellent production values; particularly notable were the musical scores and first-class camera work (the running inserts and fast tracking shots in universal's westerns in general put to shame those of any other studio). among the outstanding films were desperate trails, west of carson city, and riders of pasco basin. stories were unified, but rarely remarkable; action was the key element and such directors as ford beebe, ray taylor, lewis d. collins, and particularly joseph h. lewis never failed to produce works of at least some interest. the camera placement and imaginative cutting in arizona cyclone ( ), for instance, made it not only one of the very best of its series, but also a model which demonstrated that real cinema sense and style could be injected into basically hackneyed material. lewis used running inserts to excellent advantage, and his sweeping shots of chases in the boss of hangtown mesa ( ) were exceptionally good. when the brown series came to an end, universal starred tex ritter and russell hayden in several films, pick- ing up rod cameron and later kirby grant. as in the thirties, the best paramount westerns were the “b” west- erns of harry sherman, who brought the zane grey series to a close in with knights of the range, with russell hayden and jean parker, and light of the western stars. thereafter, with the exception of a tito the forties critics noted that randolph scott looked tired and showed his age. they expected him to withdraw from the field momentarily. instead, he had more westerns ahead of him for fox, paramout, warners, and columbia than he had made to date! at republic, in the meantime, the musical westerns of gene autry and roy rogers rose to alleged half million dollar budgets; they placed undue stress on musical production numbers, and were eventually whit- tled down to normal size. autry left republic eventually, and rogers, with his “king of the cowboys” billing, became the studio's top western star. among other republic western series of the forties (not, of course, all in production simultaneously) was the three mesquiteers. while the post- entries in this group were not as good as the earlier ones, it nevertheless remained near the top of its category. other series starred bill elliott, sunset carson, monte hale, allen lane, donald barry, and eddie dew. bill elliott became the chief rival to autry, rogers, and boyd, the reigning western kings for some time. monte hale was brought in as another singing cowboy to replace rogers, in the event rogers was drafted into the armed forces. eddie dew's tenure was brief: introduced initially as “john paul revere, the gentleman cowboy,” he actually took second billing to comic smiley burnette in his westerns. the films themselves were good, but dew didn't catch on with the public and he was replaced by bob livingston. sunset carson was a big athlete, with a broad southern drawl. his films were jammed with action, and were very fast-moving, but carson himself was a poor actor, and his period of popularity was brief. (he wound up in a cheap series for astor pic- tures, shot on sixteen millimeter and blown up to thirty-five for theat- rical release.) action was the one common denominator of the republic “b” westerns, but so expertly were they all made that despite the lack of script values, they avoided having the mass-production stamp all over them, just as the johnny mack brown westerns at universal had done. the westerns of prc (producers releasing corporation) were shoddy, cheap, carelessly made, badly photographed, and ineptly directed. plot values were nonexistent for the most part, and since the casts were iden- tical in almost every film (edward cassidy as the heroine's father, charles king, john cason, lane bradford, jack ingram, jack o'shea, and terry frost as the villains, bud osborne as the sheriff, stanford jol- ley as the banker or saloon owner) it was virtually impossible to tell one film from the other! only in their eddie dean cinecolor westerns did prc devote real care. but dean himself, although a good singer, was a poor actor with an unattractive face and singularly inept at action. the western prc's pictures were rushed through so quickly that there was just no time for acting, for preparation, or even for retakes when mild mishaps occurred. on more than one occasion the hero missed his step leaping into the saddle, and the camera just kept on grinding while he then proceeded to mount in a more orderly fashion. one classic incident marked gentlemen with guns, a low-grade buster crabbe western. the hero pursues the villain, and as he draws abreast of him, one or the other audibly cues, “one ... two ... three ... hup!,” at which signal the hero's double leaps on the villain, and both fall, not to the ground, but to a soft mattress well within camera range! not even the cheapest in- dependently made western of the early thirties would have let such care- lessness get by. the scripting was of an equally carefree order, it being sufficient for the villain to brush up against the hero, snarl, “i don't like your face!” and launch into an otherwise unmotivated fist or gun fight. during prc's less than ten-year career, their westerns starred buster crabbe, george houston, bob livingston, tim mccoy, bob steele, james newill, bill boyd (another boyd, not hopalong cassidy), tex ritter, dave o'brien, eddie dean, and al “lash” larue. a former adolescent player in the “dead end kids” vein, larue was a most un- attractive personality. his unusual walk and his hard-bitten, bogart-like face made him more suitable for villain's than hero's roles. his “gim- mick” was an ability to crack a bullwhip realistically, performing simple tricks with it. it was a “gimmick” he needed, since he was a poor rider and required a double for most of his action scenes. prc gave him al st. john as a comic partner. despite larue's shortcomings, his westerns were otherwise competent, a notch above normal prc standards. unconvincing, standardized : in a cheap western of the fire fighting vigilantes ( . * ring lash la rue (right) a ** mer sennett comedian al st (left). scriptless, witless, ad-lib knock- about cheapened many “b” west- erns of the forties. emmett lynn, charles king, and al st. john in colorado serenade ( ). undoubtedly the best series made by monogram during these years was that known under the collective heading of “the rough riders.” buck jones, tim mccoy, and raymond hatton were starred as three veteran u. s. marshals. possibly each film was a little too much like the other. plots, which always gave the key role to jones, were similar both in their construction (the three marshals work undercover, one of them poses as a member of the gang, all three finally join forces in the showdown) and in their by-play (a running gag in the series dealt with hatton's attempts to get married and settle down). although made quickly in the space of a week or so) these films were well edited and offered fine photography, good acting, interesting action, and stunts. the first three films in the series, arizona bound, the gunman from bodie, and forbidden trails (with some exceptionally fine running inserts) were the best. the others still remained uniformly good. one of the series' assets was the stirring music, including a fine agitato, composed by edward j. kay, and the “rough riders' song,” played over the main titles, main titles which were superimposed over a freeze-frame from ford's stagecoach. the series was cut short by buck jones' death in the catastrophic cocoanut grove fire. jones, safely outside, returned to help others and was finally overcome by the flames. monogram then signed johnny mack brown for another series, very the western much modeled on the jones pictures. brown, one of the very best of the post- western stars, a fine action performer, with an extremely lik- able personality, was a better actor than most western stars; he had played many straight dramatic roles opposite greta garbo, joan craw- ford, mary pickford, and other top stars of the late twenties before switching to westerns. he helped to make this series enjoyable at the very least, and raymond hatton, one of the few western comedians who was primarily a character actor, and whose mild comedy fitted into the action without disrupting it, made a perfect foil. together they made forty-five westerns before max terhune, a much less interesting screen personality than hatton, took over. the series reached its peak between and , when monogram's expansion was just beginning, and when even the “b” pictures reflected the upgrading of production values. the brown films in this period held to the standards of the best of the “rough riders” films, with really polished production mountings, good scripts, and an abundance of action. this was also the peak period of the tough dashiel hammett-raymond chandler school of detective- mystery films, and perhaps unwittingly, some of the brown westerns seemed to reflect much of their spirit, particularly in terse, wisecracking, tough dialogue, and an abundance of really rough fisticuffs. it was dur- ing these years that "dirty" fighting, an inheritance from gangster films, crept into westerns and stayed there. possibly the best of the brown westerns for monogram was the entry, the gentleman from texas, directed by lambert hillyer. some commercial success was achieved with jimmy wakely, a hill- billy singer who had been in many universal and columbia westerns as a specialty musical performer. wakely himself was a shameless imi- tator of gene autry (he had been a member of autry's radio troupe at one time), copying his costumes and his mannerisms. the wakely west- erns were “streamlined” and smoothly made, but had little stature. however, they proved to be extremely popular in rural areas, where wakely's hillbilly style, and the low-grade humor of dub taylor (the “unfunniest” of all western comedians) and lee “lasses” white found a ready reception. one of the last of his series, silver trails, introduced a new western star in whip wilson, who immediately went on to star- dom in his own series. wilson, a rugged ex-rodeo star who could handle the action well enough, was more adept with the bullwhip than was al larue, but he revealed himself as an indifferent actor. some care was taken with his first pictures, but they soon degenerated; wilson's star- dom was brief, for he came in at the beginning of the end, as far as the “b” western was concerned. the western at columbia, where the bill elliott and charles starrett westerns had declined in quality and popularity, a new deal was ushered in with the signing of tex ritter and russell hayden, restoring pep and vitality to the studio's horse operas. the regular “b” features were supplemented by a string of dreadful so-called “musical westerns” which were popular in rural areas, a market for which they were primarily intended, to be sure. their "life" depended on hillbilly music and simple knockabout comedy provided by slim summerville, andy clyde, and other veteran comedians. these cacophonous works were happily abandoned when gene autry joined columbia. his westerns became more realistic in style and omitted the big musical production numbers previously so much a part of his films. autry's first, the last round up, was also his biggest—and very prob- ably his best. it was an intelligent, well-directed western, one of the most ambitious ever made as part of a so-called “b” western series. it, and one or two subsequent autry westerns, had faint notes of social criticism in their plea for better conditions for the contemporary indians, but these notes were never overplayed. the next two autry films were not quite as good, but nevertheless still of a very high order (loaded pistols, riders of the whistling pines). later there were signs that it was un- economical to continue the series on such ambitious lines. a decision to produce them in cinecolor was abandoned after only two pictures (the strawberry roan, the big sombrero), and thereafter autry put out his films in monocolor (black-and-white prints run through a sepia bath). run- ning times were shortened. nevertheless, until the end of the forties, with such films as the cowboy and the indians, mule train, riders in the sky, and sons of new mexico, autry did manage to maintain a reasonably high standard. by the end of the forties, however, “b” westerns started to relinquish their hold on the field, as the time approached when they would become little more than memories, and part of a history. new trends in не de postwar western siegfried kracauer's book, from caligari to hitler, interestingly outlined how the post- world war i films of germany reflected the crushed and disillusioned spirit of the ger- man people. the basic value of the work, in view of the trends in german cinema of post-world war ii, confirmed that many of his conclusions were not only correct, but also being repeated a quarter of a century later in an astonishingly like fashion. surprisingly, these same trends began to appear in english and american films. kracauer's theories were confined to the film expression of a defeated people. great britain and america were instead among the victors in the struggle; in their films had reflected only optimism, but in they contained many of the same german introverted psychological examina- tions. and, as in germany, those tendencies were channeled in america towards murky psychological dramas and mysteries that were combinations of violence and pseudo- psychiatrics (somewhere in the night, murder my sweet, spellbound) and out-and-out sex dramas (scarlet street), while british films like odd man out and good time girl were even closer parallels to the defeatist films of germany. the western was by no means immune to these influences, and three new elements made their bow in the genre as a result of the postwar gloom and “psychology” that settled on american films. they were, in order of their appearance, sex, neuroses, “the cinema seems to have been invented for the expression of the subconscious, so profoundly is it rooted in poetry. nevertheless, it almost never pursues these ends." luis buÑuel the western thomas mitchell were fortunately on hand most of the time to com- pensate for the histrionic limitations of beutel. one well-directed sequence had doc holliday (played by huston) literally shooting pieces out of billy's cheek and ears, and yet, despite its patent brutality, it was handled in a casual manner that made it seem far less sadistic than some of billy's calculated mistreatment of rio. the film's climax offered a surprising juxtaposition of defiance of, and compromise with, the prevailing production code. after an obvi- ously lengthy and initially forced sexual liaison between the two protagonists, there is a ludicrously casual reference to a marriage performed by “that stranger on the white horse.” this line was, of course, dubbed in later as a minor sop to protesting pressure groups, and in view of the preceding action, it is a ridiculous piece of dialogue. yet even while authorizing such concessions, hughes refused to change the film's ending, in which both transgressors (billy the legal as well as moral offender, rio at fault morally only) ride off into the sunset. a neat plot twist of writer jules furthman had sheriff pat garrett (played by thomas mitchell), officially credited by all historians as the man who finally killed billy the kid, actually aiding in a deceptive plot by burying another body in billy's name, fully aware of the fact that billy had escaped. this fairy-tale ending has, of course, no basis in fact. in hughes' film, outlaw and mistress (or wife, if one accepts the additional line) ride off in heroic, poetic silhouettes, the sort of fadeout normally reserved for builders of empires and men of otherwise manifest destiny. the film made producers feel that with certain concessions to censor- ship and enough production gloss to disguise a lack of taste, westerns with large doses of sex could get by the censors. this was proven by the first big follow-up to the outlaw, king vidor's duel in the sun ( ). duel in the sun featured sex in such large doses that it was promptly nicknamed “lust in the dust” and encountered considerable censor- ship opposition; but, due no doubt to its “prestige” background (a top director and producer, all-star cast, first-grade writing, musical scoring, etc.) and a glossy presentation of erotic elements that in the outlaw had seemed much cruder, it overcame this opposition without much difficulty, going on to become one of the top grossing films of all time. one of the few genuinely “big” westerns in recent years, it had an epic sweep and scope almost in the griffith tradition, a sweep that unfortunately was limited by a trite story of passion which took precedence over the more important theme of empire building in the early west. it replaced the happy ending of the novel with a starkly tragic ending, but this may well have been a move to forestall censorship. there were traces of the racial theme, too, for the point was often made that the heroine was a half-breed, but the fact was used more for the exotic quality it lent to the love scenes than for any genuinely dramatic purposes. as a western, duel in the sun contained many fine moments, some excellent performances, and exceptionally good photography. one better remembers the beautifully staged mass-riding sequences of the ranchers assembling to wreck the railroad than the sexual elements, which were manifest in the inevitable nude-bathing episode and several hard-breathing seduction scenes. griffith was a frequent visitor to the set, and he and vidor must have had some wry comments to make on the subordination of spectacle—of which they were past masters—to the titillations of sin and sex! if not a great film, duel in the sun was probably the very best film possible from such an approach and such a script; it certainly contained far more artistry and genuine merit than any of its successors. it is interesting to compare it to vidor's subsequent western, man without a star ( ). the approach was basically the same: an emphasis on sex, attempting the postwar western gregory peck, the lecherous "hero,” and jennifer jones, the good but weak and sensual heroine, in duel in the sun ( ). the western to give it “stature” by placing the erotic aspects against an impressive background, in this case, the struggles of the cattle barons in texas' early days. but in the ten years between the two vidor pictures a sort of decay had set in. the sex had become more blatant, less seriously motivated; while one could believe in and understand the desperate affair between gregory peck and jennifer jones in duel in the sun, the mutual seduction of jeanne crain and kirk douglas in man without a star was both uncon- vincing and almost unmotivated, in fact a merely clumsy contrivance, created not out of plot necessity, but out of the arbitrary decision to stress sex for its own sake, with the entire affair treated as a huge joke. this levity extended even to deliberately poking fun at the bath as a sex-symbol. the bathtub in american films has assumed the same sort of sexual association as the bed in french films. the bathtub is, of course, a somewhat anemic symbol, since its immediate association is with nudity rather than with sex, but perhaps this is appropriate because eroticism in american movies since the moral “purge” in has been anemic anyway. as a result of cecil b. de mille's exploitation of rather pointless bathtub scenes, and the use of the bubbles, showers, and sundry other species of the bath as a never-fail prop for cheesecake publicity stills, the bathtub has become hollywood's principal inanimate symbol -the human body being quite animate—for the suggestion of sex, supplemented, of course, by a monotonous reliance on unmotivated beach scenes. man without a star, which kidded sex, did so, at least partially, by kidding its symbol, but the bathtub gags became rather strained after a few reels. the use of a bathtub for mildly “sexy” scenes in westerns was, of course, not uncommon before man without a star. kit carson ( ) included a robust scene in which jon hall (carson) and his cronies unknowingly share a communal bathhouse with heroine lynn bari, the two sexes being separated by a small wooden partition. when the soap slips under the partition, jon hall dives for it and the discovery is made. de mille, of course, brought his familiar bathtub sequence into unconquered, with paulette goddard up to her neck in suds, and there were other similar scenes. but the idea was usually handled casually and in good taste. vidor's attempts to simultaneously exploit and satirize the traditional formula misfired, and far more genuine humor was to be found in john ford's the searchers ( ), in which a refreshing switch was made: unseductive male ( jeffrey hunter) in the bath and disinter- ested female (vera miles) as observer. added to the superfluous sex was the heavy emphasis on sadistic brutality, manifested principally in fight scenes and beatings, in which . the postwar western the protagonists were ripped with barbed wire. the introduction of physical barbarism was one more element incorporated into the western's stock-in-trade since duel in the sun. the progression-or regression—from the one vidor film to the other is not one that went in a straight line, influenced as it was by the “neurotic” and “racial" influences, but it is consistent in that the erotic element has steadily increased. the nude bathing scene of duel in the sun was a center of controversy at the time, being considered the very antithesis of the “healthy” western. today this same scene has become so contrived that it is taken for granted and generates less excitement than the more standard action that it often precipitates. for example, yvonne de carlo bathing nude in shotgun ( ) provokes a violent brawl between sterling hayden and zachary scott. shotgun was actually a remarkably good minor “a” western, which to a degree anticipated run of the arrow in its presentation of the apache indians as both reasoning human beings and as cruel warriors. expertly directed by lesley selander, it featured two grand fights and an unusual duel on horseback, apache style, in its climax. other assets included some exceptional color photography by ellsworth fredericks (who later achieved his peak in william wyler's friendly persuasion) and an inter- estingly off-beat hero. sterling hayden was by now fairly familiar as the rugged, hard-bitten westerner, but there were added nuances in his role this time. for a “hero,” he was frequently callous, when cal- lousness served a justifiable end, and his drab sweat-soaked costume was utterly appropriate for his role as a lawman on a long and lonely mission. there was, of course, the customary quota of the “new” clichés, centered principally on sadistic violence (the killing of a sheriff with a shotgun fired full in the face, an outlaw trussed up in an elab- orate rattlesnake trap, the slow death of semi-villain zachary scott, pinned to a tree by an indian spear through his stomach-hero sterling hayden provides him with a gun with which scott subsequently kills himself—and the aforementioned duel) and sexual emphasis (fre- quent references to the girl's somewhat doubtful past—she is character- ized as a dance-hall girl who has “been around,” which in westerns is synonymous with prostitution-heated love scenes between hero and heroine, and especially a nude bathing scene). nudity, of course, still sells, and many of the advertising campaigns of westerns containing nude bathing episodes have been built around that ingredient. independent westerns like the oklahoma woman, the yellow tomahawk, and flesh and the spur seemed to have been made for no other purpose. this form of cinematic expression reached its logical the stagecoach hold-up. to usa h tel v-ta tes sa - .. the first, panhandle, was made for allied artists in by director lesley selander, at that time one of the expanding company's biggest pictures. a completely "pure” western in terms of plot and tradition, as well as in a moral sense, it was a tale simply told. the boundaries between good and evil were as obvious as they had been in the cov- ered wagon and the iron horse, and the action was not markedly original, although exceptionally well executed. russell harlan's photography was in the same extremely able, but not showy, vein. in many ways it was a very fine film, and quite superior to the many larger-scale west- erns that star rod cameron made for universal and republic. selander followed up with another for allied, stampede; not quite as good, and with rather too many "trimmings” in terms of plot ramifications and super- fluous characters, but again an intelligent and traditional horse opera. these two films were both made prior to , when the sex “gimmick" had already begun to catch on. when selander made cow country for allied in the early fifties, a regression was all too obvious: to the still basically straightforward plotline sex, brutality, and a hint of an evalu- ation of racial relationships had been added. the erotic material re- volved primarily around pretty peggie castle, an old hand at this sort of thing, who was systematically seduced by one of the villains; when he ultimately refused to marry her, she took a bullwhip to him in a sequence which looked most striking on the promotional material, but was no help in repeating the success of the earlier and far superior panhandle. the western neuroses “neurotic” westerns such as pursued and the furies as a species in them- selves had a short life, but when the erotic was added as it was in joan crawford's ludicrous johnny guitar, or when racial themes were injected (primarily dealing with the indian, of course), such films continued to be made. some westerns in the immediate postwar era were straight psychological dramas, not always too convincingly transposed to the west, which reflected much of the fashionable pessimism then so preva- lent in european cinema. one of the most typical was warner's colorado territory, which, with a little dramatic license, one might compare to marcel carné's story in his les portes de la nuit. hero and heroine seemed pursued throughout by an inevitable and malevolent destiny: circum- stances were always against them; and despite their innate goodness and a determination to “go straight,” it was just not to be. and the gloomy ending exactly paralleled the final scenes of carol reed's odd man out; the postwar western cornered by the sheriff's posse, the heroine shoots at the pursuers, de- liberately draws the posse's fire, and she and hero joel mccrea die in a bullet-ridden embrace. another warner film of the same era, pursued, came to a happier end- ing, after having taken an equally depressing route. this film took ad- vantage of dream images and dialogue borrowed from current psy- chiatry. more interesting-and one of the best of its kind—was a strange western entitled the capture. starring lew ayres and teresa wright under the direction of john sturges, it was a well written modern west- ern set in a little mining community. it dealt with a basically decent man's struggle with his conscience upon realizing that he has killed a man unintentionally. while admitting to the illegality of his act, he questions whether he was morally wrong, taking refuge in flight. it was one of the few westerns to take as its main concern the question of a killing under extenuating circumstances and the responsibility of the individual to decide for himself the extent of his guilt in a land where lawlessness is fairly common. as in so many films of this type, the con- clusion was far too facile, but the journey to that disappointing end of the road was a most rewarding one. henry king's much-imitated the gunfighter ( ) introduced some- thing of greek tragedy into its story of an outlaw's last hours. it also brought what soon became a new cliché to westerns: the motif of the inheritance of a killer's mantle, the compulsion of young “punks” out to make a name for themselves to shoot and kill (preferably, for greater glory, in a fair fight) a feared gunman, and to then find themselves fac- ing the knowledge that the same fate awaits them. this thematic cliché has turned up with startling rapidity since king's film, which, inciden- tally, was a far more stylish and intelligent film than one had come to expect from this veteran actor-director from the early days of silents, a man who had once established himself as a leading creator of americana in silent films like toľable david, and sound ones like the will rogers version of state fair. but romola and stanley and livingstone, as well as jesse james among his few westerns, were typical spectaculars with noth- ing very cinematically creative about them, and thus it was somewhat of a surprise when king made the gunfighter and twelve o'clock high (not a western), both fine, mature films, within a few months of each other. in films whose theme has been that of the young hoodlum out to make his reputation by killing a wanted man, sympathy has always been with the older outlaw and almost never with the younger would be fighter, who is invariably presented as sadistic or maladjusted. while mann, a director brought up on hard-bitten city thrillers. his heavy, pretentious approach was well suited to a western like the furies, which he made for paramount. a strange, gloomy affair, with touches of both eugene o'neill and daphne du maurier, mann gave it the ultimate in low-keyed lighting, somewhat turgid pacing, and oppressive angling of the sets. unfortunately, he persisted in this approach with westerns which had less neurotic content. somehow the trick worked on his black-and-white westerns; winchester was an extremely satisfying horse opera, but as soon as mann moved into technicolor westerns (bend of the river, the naked spur, the far country) the pretentiousness and the artifice showed through the gay surface of the prints. a film very much in the anthony mann mold was track of the cat, with robert mitchum, another strange, moody eugene o'neill-flavored western directed by william wellman. its title was largely symbolic, and the mountain lion, or "cat,” though an important plot factor, was never actually seen and assumed near-mystical proportions, representing different emotions to each man who tracked it. certainly one of the most off-beat westerns ever made, it utilized cinemascope with intelligence and made surprising use of color, with blacks and whites still predominating. in its slow, deliberate pacing, most notably in a grim burial sequence, photographed in a foreboding manner from the coffin as it is lowered into the ground, it more resembled the style of carl dreyer than the taut, deliberately harsh style wellman had set in the ox-bow incident and yellow sky. the postwar western corral livery stable doc holliday (kirk douglas) and wyatt earp (burt lancaster) walk toward the gunfight at the o.k. corral in the reconstruction of that famous gunfight of in tombstone, arizona. the western a psychological approach to a western seems effective when it is al. lied with a traditional western theme, as it was in the gunfighter, but when the background is merely incidental to a story that could equally well take place in a city or on a desert island, that background of healthy, uncomplicated, outdoor life seems to make the complexity of the pro tagonists' problems appear both contrived and unimportant. a warner technicolor western, barricade, seemed to possess quite astonishing vigor in its mixture of neuroses, sex, and violence—until one realized why. the film was a careful remake of jack london's the sea wolf, meticulously transposed from ocean to plain, from ship to gold mine, but otherwise unchanged, with raymond massey performing ably as london's satanic villain. sheer neuroses found it harder than sheer eroticism making headway into “b” westerns. films like the tall texan and little big horn had their psychological complications, but there was no indication that tortured psychological westerns could ever hope to be as popular as the erotic western, or even as popular as the old-fashioned straight-action horse opera. the purely psychological western-the term is usually camou- flage for a western devoid of physical action, whether or not it is truly psychological—has been largely limited to a handful of medium-budget lesser “a” westerns. alfred werker's at gunpoint, its lack of action rather pointlessly stressed by color and a wide cinemascope screen on which nothing happened, drew rather too obviously on high noon for its theme of civic responsi- bility. its plot (a storekeeper becomes an overnight hero when he acci- a scene from ( ). broken art dentally kills a bank robber and just as quickly is shunned by the townspeople when it becomes apparent that the outlaws plan to return for vengeance) was quite unusual and its use as a “hero” of a man with- out heroic or other distinguishing qualities was an interesting detour from well-worn paths. but a western needs more than an unusual situation and an off-beat hero to sustain it, and at gunpoint had nothing else. even so, it was a more successful experiment than was frank sinatra's laborious and unconvincing johnny concho, a study of the re- generation of a bully and a coward. not only was the “regeneration” facile and unbelievable, but the character himself was so unsympathetic that audiences could not reasonably be expected to care what became of him. again, the high noon theme of community responsibility was trot- ted out to save the “hero” in the film's "shoot-up” climax. the postwar western racial conscience the discovery that a “conscience” on racial problems can be profitable box office had been proved by elia kazan's pinky and by other films dealing with the negro question. it was not surprising, therefore, that the theme was exploited in the western, especially since the “indian question” was far less touchy and controversial. to fox's credit the film that really started the indian racial cycle, broken arrow, was no catch- penny “quickie.” it was, in fact, a sincerely motivated, excitingly told story, based on fact, of the early misunderstandings between the whites and the indians. written and directed by delmer daves, always one of the most talented (and least recognized) hollywood directors, it was a moving and sensitive film with some breathtakingly beautiful camera work; the sequence of the wedding between white man and indian princess was exquisitely done. broken arrow not only presented the indians for the first time in years as sympathetic human beings with a genuine grievance, but it set a vogue for indian heroes (jeff chandler played cochise) which has been con- tinued ever since. however, the film did not entirely have the courage of its convictions-or perhaps had production code jitters. whatever the reason, the idyllic marriage between frontiersman james stewart and indian princess debra paget was not allowed to flourish. the wife was conveniently killed off in skirmishing towards the film's close, a few weak lines of dialogue insisting that her death was not in vain because it had brought indian and white closer than ever before. just how, was not explained, but for the next few years, indian brides of white men were doomed to die before the final reel. now, changing tastes seem to the western pay; the "extra" was employed to play dead, not to be particularly acrobatic about being shot off his horse, and in many early westerns the audience could see the indians bringing their horses to a halt after hav- ing been shot; they could then tumble with far more safety from the saddle. even “playing dead” seemed to tax the abilities of some extras; an early episode of the perils of pauline is plagued by a couple of "dead" indians forever popping their heads up out of the grass to see what is going on. in griffith's admirable film fighting blood, there are momen- tary lapses due to the lack of efficient stunt work. a settler, wounded while driving a wagon at full speed, stops the wagon and then tumbles to the dust. earlier, the excitement of the great train robbery had been lessened somewhat by the obvious use of dummies during the latter part of the fight on the coal tender, when the victims were thrown from the train: in later years, such a situation would automatically have called for stuntmen. ince's stunt work—if one can term it that, for the phrase had not yet been born—was generally superior to that of griffith for the simple reason that ince specialized in westerns and maintained a large crew of riders and cowboys, some of them rodeo trick riders who took riding stunts in their stride. the woman ( ) had a particularly dangerous horse fall in a land rush sequence, so completely convincing and so obviously hazardous that it must be assumed that it was performed by a double for the heroine. doubtless one reason for the delayed appearance of the stuntman was the equally delayed appearance of the star. the motivation for the use of a stuntman was the risk involved for the star in tricky bits of business, either because the star was not up to the stunt or—and this was the major factor—because the stunt risked injury to the star. an injured stuntman can always be replaced and the picture can proceed without delay; but an injury to the star inevitably halts or slows production, sending costs soaring. initially, especially at biograph, the star system was not permit- ted to develop, and no actor was considered so important that he could not participate in the action when the plot demanded. because actors were expected to perform their own physical action in the early west- erns, really dangerous stunting was not written into the scripts by the writers or insisted upon by the directors. recently, spencer gordon bennet, one of the most prolific westem and serial directors, related how he had become unofficial stuntman in his first film, edison's a moment of madness ( ), made in and not a western. in one sequence, the heroine fell off a yacht and was in danger of drowning. the hero of the film, edward earle, could not pioneer scout ( ) fea- tured this hazardous stunt scene. swim, and it had not occurred to anyone to use a double for him. so he rushed over to a nearby sailor, played by bennet, and asked him to save the girl. bennet performed the rescue and reunited the heroine with her not very athletic suitor. on the basis of this little anecdote (and a study of the film bears out bennet's story) we can safely assume that in the practice of doubling was, if not unknown, certainly still uncommon. the lack of and need for second unit directors was less apparent in griffith's films than in ince's, undoubtedly because sweeping action was such a griffith specialty that it is doubtful if any subordinate director could have improved on his results. griffith, however, did use assistant directors hidden away as extras in his crowd scenes. each had his own bit of action to direct, action predetermined by griffith who remained in overall control of the scene. thus, mass action was guided from within as well as from without. this procedure can hardly be considered the real forerunner of second unit direction, but it indicates that griffith already realized the value of delegating responsibility in action scenes. second unit direction actually came into its own in the twenties, partly because of the large increase in the number of spectacles, but also be- cause hollywood had begun to veer away from mystery serials, placing greater stress on pure action content. serials were usually shot by two or more units. the first unit, headed by the official director, con- centrated on the plot, the studio scenes, and footage with the stars. the second unit would, at the same time, be away on location with a group of stuntmen, grinding out the fast action. careful editing later would weave the output of both units into one cohesive whole. b. reaves eason and arthur rosson leading second unit directors were b. reaves eason and arthur rosson. rosson worked on most of cecil b. de mille's pictures, while eason was responsible for the mighty chariot race and much of the sea battle in ben hur ( ), “officially” directed by fred niblo. it is ironic that ben hur, in other respects a dull picture, is remembered only for these two sequences, and such de mille films as the plainsman, otherwise held in low regard, are redeemed in the eyes of the critics by the well handled action sequences. in other words, the only episodes that niblo and de mille did not direct are the ones that are held up as examples of prime contributions to the cinema! rosson was with de mille for some twenty years (one of his best crea- tions was the battle of new orleans for a film made in , the buccaneer), but by no means exclusively. he also staged the big indian attack on the covered wagon train in kit carson and the cattle stampede in howard hawks' red river. much earlier in the silent period he had been both an individual stuntman and a full-fledged director for tom mix and hoot gibson. many second unit directors who excel in their specialty, however, seem to have limited talent outside it. eason's westerns were lively, and a serial he directed, the galloping ghost, was a minor masterpiece of sus- tained stunting, but his dramatic talent was weak, and whenever the action lagged, he was an indifferent director. but his second unit contri- the western gene autry's double transfers stagecoach in loaded pistols ( . stuntman and second unit director butions, particularly in action involving horses, have been remarkable, ranging from the magnificent climax of the charge of the light brigade of to the gathering of the ranchers in duel in the sun, the latter done in collaboration with another specialist, otto brower. other typical eason sequences: the splendid race between cavalry horses and a modern tank in republic's army girl of , a sequence that has been re-used as stock footage in many subsequent films; the jousting in the adventures of robin hood, and the slapstick harness race in ma and pa kettle at the fair. fast horse action remained eason's specialty until his death in . next to the aforementioned sequences in ben hur and the charge of the light brigade, his best work was probably the re-creation of the battle of san jacinto in man of conquest made in . the film itself, republic's first attempt to break into the “super-western” category, was an ex- tremely good one, rather unfairly neglected because it was not made by a major studio or with a prestige director (george nicholls, jr., directed). one of the best, and historically most accurate, films of its type, it dealt with the political and military career of sam houston (richard dix) culminating in the texans' war of independence against the mexicans, and the battles of the alamo and san jacinto. this last battle represented a triumphant union of stunt organization by eason and stunt execution by yakima canutt's group of stuntmen. starting with houston's forces strung out in a long line, the sequence built rapidly into a magnificent charge as the texans raced down a slope and ultimately into the san jacinto river, completely routing the mexican forces. rapidly cut, beautifully photographed with a maximum use of the mobile camera, the sequence was as exciting as anything a major company could have pro- duced, and a credit, therefore, to a small company like republic. canutt himself took several of the more spectacular horse falls, and the unit as a whole worked out some startlingly realistic wagon crashes and whole- sale horse falls in the midst of exploding shells. cliff lyons in more recent years, cliff lyons, a former bit player and stuntman who had doubled for william boyd and ken maynard, has donned the mantle put aside by eason as the maestro of horse-action second unit work. both john wayne and john ford utilize his services regularly. in earlier years, manipulation of horse falls revolved principally around a device known as “the running w”—ropes arranged strate- gically, and hidden from the camera, over which the horse tripped. the stuntman, knowing when to expect his fall, was prepared; the horse was not. the almost incredible number of horse falls in the charge of the light brigade (brilliant editing undoubtedly made many of these falls seem far more brutal than they actually were) provoked the american society for the prevention of cruelty to animals into action, and the method was outlawed. stuntmen then developed systems to signal the horse, so that it would fall on command with less risk of injury. lyons is today the foremost of the horse-fall specialists, and if there is any flaw in his work it is perhaps that it is just a little too perfect, sug- gesting its preparation. the comancheros, a john wayne western made in , in particular had too many scenes in which groups of stuntmen, all obviously acting on the same command, had their horses fall at the same split-second. lyons' speciality has always remained the horse fall en masse, and he has never quite equaled eason's work in other areas. the western other second unit directors other second unit directors of note include andrew marton, who staged the battle scenes in the red badge of courage and who occasionally takes over as sole director. when john huston left the selznick production of a farewell to arms ( ), it was marton who directed until a new pres- tige director could be assigned. such was also the case with willard van dyke, who took over white shadows in the south seas ( ) when robert flaherty left the film. john d. waters, who directed most of the tim mccoy westerns at mgm that were not directed by van dyke, also turned to second unit direction, among his credits being sequences from viva villa! and the double for bill elliott in fight scenes at allied artists. apart from the “straight” riding and fighting stuntmen, there must also be even more specialized performers. burly duke york did some good scenes fighting wolf-dog chinook in a series of james oliver curwood adventures for monogram. poundage is a definite asset in such fights, for even the experienced stuntman needs ample padding, and on a slightly built man padding is a little too obvious. (padding is particularly noticeable in the scenes in which men of slight stature are struck by indian arrows!) stuntman and second unit director bud osborne the apparently straightforward job of stagecoach driving is, however, also very much of a specialized area. the old wells fargo drivers had to be as physically fit as the pony express riders, and many of their exploits have become legend. there was the famous hank monk who, according to wells fargo records, “had as many press notices as a prima donna.” it was monk who drove horace greeley down the sierra slopes at a furious pace, catapulted his celebrated passenger through the roof, and calmly told him: “keep your seat, horace, and we'll get you there on time!” even more colorful was charlie pankhurst, a whip-wielding daredevil who once routed a gang of highwaymen single-handed. “charlie” lived to be sixty-six, and only on his death did wells fargo discover that its foremost stagecoach driver was, in fact, a woman! in hollywood westerns, one player has assumed the role of hank and charlie almost exclusively-bud osborne. osborne, a former stunt rider with buffalo bill's wild west show, has been in movies since , primarily as a villain. his principal distinction has been his ability to handle any kind of wagon or coach, equipped with any num- ber of horses, and to drive it at top speed over the roughest kind of terrain. stunt movies despite the obvious excitement and drama inherent in movie stunting, there have been few movies about it, and almost no good ones. two rko films of the early thirties, the lost squadron and lucky devils, came near to success, but neither dealt with western stunting. the bulk of the others were primarily cheap action pictures which implied that stunting was mainly a matter of brawn and luck. sons of adventure made by republic was inauthentic and unconvincing, despite plenty of “bulldogging," a technique for captura i cattle adapted to the capturing of badma action and direction by yakima canutt himself. hollywood thrillmakers was merely a cheaply fashioned parade of old richard talmadge stunts, allegedly being performed by william henry. the basic situation of fox's shooting high ( ) was genuinely, if unintentionally, amusing. gene autry played a cowboy who was hired to double for the star (robert lowery) of a western that was being shot in the cowboy's neighborhood. we see the camera stop grinding on lowery as autry, in close-up, walks into the scene and replaces lowery in order to stunt for him. then, in almost telescopic long shot, a double performs the stunt for autry. when the excitement is over, the camera returns to a close-up of autry grinning amiably and dusting himself off! in an earlier western, the big show, autry played a dual role as both a western star and a stuntman double. needless to say, both autrys made liberal use of yakima canutt in a wild sequence which took place practically beneath the hooves of a galloping wagon team. films like this generate the impression, one largely true, that few western stars are capable of performing stunts themselves. obviously most are not, and even those that are, usually, for obvious reasons, sub- mit to doubling. but in all fairness it should be recorded that some stars—tom mix and george o'brien, in particular-only infrequently resorted to doubles, while others, johnny mack brown, gilbert roland, jack randall, tom tyler, and ken maynard-on various occasions proved their capabilities with stunts filmed in close-up. while there is naturally a limit to the number of stunts that can be devised around horses, cliffs, or fight scenes, there seems to be no limit to the number of ways a given stunt can be performed. and quite often a stunt that “misfires” will prove more exciting than a perfectly executed one. a case in point occurred in the john wayne monogram western, the trail beyond. the stuntman (probably canutt) doubling for wayne draws abreast of the open wagon in which the villain is making his escape. he is to leap onto the wagon from his horse, engage the villain in a fight, and topple with him down a steep incline. but the timing was off. he leaps—and misses—just grabbing the bars on the outside of the wagon instead of landing securely. for a moment he clings there, being dragged along almost under the front wheels. obvi- ously he realizes that there is no way to salvage the stunt, so he lets go, rolls in the dust, gets to his feet, leaps on his horse, resumes the chase, and does the stunt again-correctly. the photographer had the presence of mind to keep the camera going the whole time, and the exciting sequence was used in toto. such "failures” can be seen only in the cheaper stuntman and second unit director stuntman fred graham (right) in a fight scene with johnny mack brown from lone star trail ( ). exeunt the “b”s, enter rory calhoun the stars wane television "television is a vast wasteland ..." newton n. minow the early fifties saw the beginning of the end of the “b” western. in almost thirty western stars were active, but could offer only a handful: roy rogers, allan lane, montie hale, rex allen, johnny mack brown, whip wilson, gene autry, charles starrett, and tim holt. before the final death knell sounded, two more series were begun by monogram- allied artists, one with bill elliott, the other with wayne morris. a dozen elliott pictures were made, only half that many with morris, before it was conceded that even such well- written and above-average “b” westerns were still uneconomical propositions. between and all “b” western series were eliminated; montie hall was the first casualty, rex allen and wayne morris were the last. with the sole exception of randolph scott, who maintained an av- erage of two minor “a” productions a year for columbia and warner brothers, the industry was entirely without western stars, a condition that had not existed since bron- cho billy anderson had made the genre so popular at essanay in ! there were several contributing factors to the sudden demise of the small-scale horse opera. one, of course, was the fact that the top western stars were no longer young. even johnny mack brown, a relative new- comer compared to veterans like ken may- nard and hoot gibson, was in his fifties- one of the few new stars that had been devel- oped since who approached the stature of the old-timers. some, like jimmy wakely, eddie dean, and john kimbrough, just failed to make the grade and faded from view even before the decline set in. kimbrough, a former football player, lasted for only two films! dean had been given all the advantages of fairly elaborate productions by prc and his initial films achieved above average success through their use of the newly developed cinecolor. however, these did little to sell dean personally and soon reverted to black and white. as the new york daily news reported in reviewing his hawk of powder river: “eddie dean's latest is in black and white rather than color but the improvement is hardly noticeable; you can still see him.” the western the rise in production costs in , television was inundated with “b” westerns made from on, initially just the cheaper independent material, but before long all the polished little westerns from the major companies, too. here were a great number of films that in terms of production value and excitement were unquestionably superior to the westerns that columbia, republic, and monogram were still making. as new television markets opened, and as further blocks of old films were leased to them, the theatrical market for new westerns diminished. there was little incentive now for the studios to improve their small-budget westerns; they continued to be made for their limited markets, located in the south and in northern cities with big negro populations, but they were markets that were steadily shrinking and the films even there did little more than break even. the big profits from “cheap" westerns were a thing of the past, and in fact “cheap” westerns themselves were an illusion. a western that would have cost fifteen or twenty thousand dollars in the mid- thirties was now costing sixty thousand, and even this budget was held to only by careful cutting of corners. for example, the expensive run- ning inserts, shot from camera cars, were replaced by the simpler, cheaper, and less dramatic pan shots. mobile camera work was reduced to a minimum, resulting in long static dialogue takes devoid of move- ment or intercutting. casts and even livestock were reduced to skeleton forces, and a maximum use was made of stock footage. increasingly, republic and especially columbia began to build their westerns around available footage, and the latter studio used it so extensively that they were turning out their “new” westerns on three-day shooting schedules! the plot of laramie, for example, was arranged so that it could use all the big scenes from john ford's stagecoach, complete to the chase across the salt flats and the cavalry racing to the rescue. occasional close-up inserts of charles starrett, dressed to match the long and medium shots of john wayne, furthered the deception. only rko's tim holt series made any attempt to maintain worth- economy measures: the dramatic and exciting running inserts (below) shot from camera trucks, often in picturesque locations, were sup- planted in the fifties by static scenes (right) shot from fixed ground camera positions, in drab locations only a few miles from hollywood. the western while standards of production value. the films remained full of action, well written, well cast, and intelligently directed. but these virtues, including frequent changes in camera set-up to avoid the long takes that were making the other “b” westerns pedestrian, took their toll. the tim holt films cost as much as ninety thousand dollars apiece without mak- ing a dollar more than competitive westerns which cost two-thirds or even less of that amount to produce. thus, despite every possible economy, including the bolstering of current series with reissues, and cutting new output from the standard eight pictures per year to six, and even four, the “b” western was doomed. every "gimmick” was tried-even the use of half-a-dozen western stars in one film in vain. the last regular “b” series western to be released, in september , was monogram's two guns and a badge, a wayne morris vehicle in the old austere vein, with a simple plot and no songs or other modern accouterments, and even a title in the old manner. it was no spectacular swan song for the "b,” but it was an appropriate and respectable close. in addition to being the last of its class, it was also, sadly, the last film of its director, lewis d. collins, one of the most prolific directors of expert minor westerns. he died shortly after its completion. doubtless individual “b” westerns will always be made by very small operators on a strictly independent and non-series basis, but the num- ber of these is so small, and their quality so poor, that they constitute no likelihood of a revival or even a limited continuation of the “b” western as a class in itself. one or two producers reasoned that with all the major companies withdrawing from the field, the market was wide open for cheaply made westerns. the films that emerged from this mentality were so inferior that most of them, even with low budgets, failed to recoup their costs. one producer of a james ellison-russell hayden series hit on a unique method of keeping his budgets down to twenty thousand dollars per picture. apart from using a maximum of stock footage, often ancient and poorly inserted, he also put identical casts into each film, shot every chase and fight from several angles, worked on a minimum of two pictures at a time, and came up with a group of six westerns so identical that it was impossible to tell one from the other! to compound the confusion, he later sold the group to television under completely different titles! another producer, theater-owner joy houck, made an appalling series of westerns starring al “lash” larue, built around liberal helpings of sequences from his older starring films, and featuring only a minimum of new and cheaply filmed studio scenes. one of the more enterprising of these independent western producers ton, flagg, and others. to all this, he added a fondness for casting himself in a dual role, and for duplicating snatches of action patently lifted from great westerns. carpenter (who also used the name of john forbes at times) certainly had his limitations as a writer-director, but it was his further shortcomings as a business man and promoter that really doomed his films. nothing if not enterprising, but a babe in the woods in hollywood financial circles, carpenter sometimes found that in his efforts to raise backing he had sold away rather more than one hundred percent of the picture! when money ran out, he would try to finish a film cheaply, using non-union camera crews and shooting in sixteen millimeter, having the results blown up to thirty-five millimeter. more than once, because of unpaid lab bills, the negatives to his films were attached, and it was often a year or two before they were freed for ultimate release. in an effort to keep costs low, or in return for finan- cial support, he used friends and associates in his films as both actors and technicians. leading ladies like “texas rose” bascom and supporting players like “big red” carpenter, john's brother, added nothing but amateur ineptitude to his films. only one, the lawless rider, emerged with a professional stamp on it, as a result of alex gordon's production and yakima canutt's direction. the majority of his films, of which badman's gold and outlaw treasure are typical, emerged mainly as hodge- podge affairs. carpenter's work does not warrant perhaps the space we have given him, but his activities illustrate particularly well the less- publicized, the independent, side of film-making on poverty row. the western borderline westerns replacing the quickly and cheaply made westerns, was a newcomer: a new type of “b” western which made its appearance in the early fifties. it did not, of course, consider itself “b” in any way. films in this group were eighty-minute technicolor westerns with stars of some stature-randolph scott, audie murphy, tony curtis, rory calhoun, sterling hayden, stephen mcnally, and others. they were produced by warners, republic, columbia, paramount, allied artists, and especially universal in quantities almost equaling the cheap westerns produced by them in earlier years. shotgun, drums across the river, santa fe, and wichita were among the best of this generally high-standard group. decidedly a product of the fifties, they were, in scope and budget, several notches below the standards of such previous, less mass- produced “a” westerns as dodge city and stagecoach, yet they could boast of considerable production values and often better-than-average enter television scripts. above all, they presented plenty of slick, fast-paced action, the kind one usually associated with the humble “b” western. initially they caught on well with the public as top features. universal, having abandoned its “b” series, still needed westerns and so embarked on these more expensive programmers at a time when other companies like monogram and republic were still struggling to sustain their five-reel black-and-white oaters. the competition of these technicolor westerns was one more factor which hastened the end of the few remaining small westerns. obviously, if the average exhibitor could pay a few dollars more to obtain a color film with randolph scott, a film long enough to obviate the need for a co-feature, he had little call to buy the five-reeler with charles starrett or rex allen. however, within a very few years these “new look” westerns were quickly relegated to the supporting feature category. of course, they were still strong attractions in the rural areas, commanded respectable rental rates, and were good overseas sellers (more so than the regular “b”s, which were too short for the predominantly single-bill european market), but since the costs of color and name casts meant not inexpensive budgets, they were basically not much more profitable than the “b”s they were replacing. most did show a profit of sorts and since exhib- itors and public alike found them preferable to the old black-and-white westerns available on television, they have become, it would seem, permanent fixtures, although after their number declined somewhat. the production value of these westerns must have discouraged small producers and independents who were still trying to make prof- itable minor westerns. an attempt was made by these producers to overcome their competition by loading their own pictures with “gim- micks,” most specifically, controversial new "versions” of western history, and the wholesale exploitation of violence and sex, always a safe proposition commercially. a number of crude and tasteless produc- tions, of which the daltons' women and jesse james' women were the most vulgar, were rushed to the market; their principal attractions were bla- tant sexual suggestiveness and all-out saloon brawls between rather bare- bosomed dancing girls. fortunately, the very cheapness of these films prevented their ever achieving wide popularity, and they remained merely novelty attractions. (the ultimate was reached in with some films that were out-and-out exploitations of nudity, of which the bare west is a fairly representative sample.) fight scenes now were devised to be as brutal as possible; in rancho notorious, for example, a sixteen millimeter camera nosed its way in and out of the fight scenes in order to capture candidly all the bloody highlights. enter television more obvious. more obvious, too, than in theatrical films were the studio sets. a blank white backdrop with a couple of false trees planted in front of it just could not pass muster as an “exterior.” cheaply made series, such as “the lone ranger," staged almost all their action, interior and exterior, within these cramped and obvious sets. a few chases, for use throughout the entire series, would be shot in genuine exteriors and intercut with all the patently artificial studio footage. the more expensive and carefully planned television westerns had to contend with the necessity for haste no less than cheaply made films; shows had to be completed on schedule, to meet an air-time deadline. sets could be serviceable at best, and rarely com- pared with the at least workmanlike sets of the cheaper theatrical westerns. the television western was in fact a factory-made product, and with so many limitations placed upon them, it is surprising that many films emerged as well as they did. one reason that they did is perhaps that they were not made by television personnel, but by the same veterans who had been making theatrical westerns for years. for example, director on some of television's “cisco kid" adventures was lam- bert hillyer, maker of some of the best hart and mix westerns. from a standpoint of action con- tent and modest but efficient pro- duction values, some of these tele- vision horse operas, especially those james arness of autry, came out quite creditably. autry incidentally reduced the mu- sical content of his films considerably, and concentrated more on action than at any time previous. the western hopalong cassidy in the wake of autry's success, the trend was to exploit both western stars and actual historical figures. in the former category, autry's number one rival—they had, of course, been rivals in the days of theatrical competition, too—was william boyd. boyd was on the verge of bankruptcy when television arrived literally in the nick of time to restore his popularity. in setting himself up as a producer, he had secured the apparently worthless rights to his old hopalong cassidy films. he not only earned a fortune leasing these features to television at the time when they were the only westerns of major studio origin to be seen on the home screen but, more important, he reawakened national interest in the hopalong cassidy character. this accomplished, he was able to start a completely new series of cassidy westerns specifically for television's use. boyd's tenure as a cowboy on television was brief, but for a while he remained its brightest star, reaping the usual subsidiary benefits. these far exceeded the mere grosses from film rental; also very much involved were the considerable profits which accrued from hopalong cassidy comic books, toy guns, western out- fits, and sundry other products, plus revenue from guest appearances at rodeos, circuses, in street parades sponsored by large stores, and even in de mille's film the greatest show on earth. following in the wake of this success, all of clarence e. mulford's hopalong cassidy novels were reprinted and completely rewritten to tie in with the uncommon conception of cassidy as an idealistic and gentlemanly western hero. mulford's excellent authoritative picture of the west was therefore completely distorted, to be presented anew on the level of a “b” western. other stars roy rogers, who quit theatrical film production a little later than autry, was also to be seen in a television series; although popular, it failed to repeat the success of the autry pictures, perhaps because of a rather more brutal approach to action content. moreover, rogers and his leading lady and wife, dale evans, are both deeply religious, and their occasional philosophizing did not sit too well with youngsters who enter television stars were far more interested in gun play than gospel-thumping. another autry rival was a star under contract to him, appearing in a series produced by autry: jack mahoney and his “range rider” series. mahoney was a former stuntman, and this lively series was successfully designed to exploit his outstanding athletic and acrobatic ability. exploiting characters rather than stars were the series dealing with the lone ranger (clayton moore), wild bill hickok (guy mad- ison), and kit carson (bill williams). of course, all these films pro- duced revenue above and beyond television rentals by lending their titles and the names of their stars to accessory products. theatrical release in europe added to the profits. just as the theatrical “b” had fallen from grace, so in a much shorter time did the television westerns. the principal contributing factor was the sale to television of old westerns starring gene autry and roy rogers, and other westerns not previously seen on television. they all were naturally of a much higher standard than the television westerns then being made by the same stars. as always in such situations, the need for a new “gimmick” was evident, and in it took two forms: the popularizing of national heroes who were not necessarily western heroes; second, the skillful application to western themes of what may be termed a composite of high noon and “dragnet” approaches, “dragnet” in particular having been a fabulously successful detective television series, relying for its effect on dramatic understatement and pseudo-documentary writing. a series such as “gunsmoke” is perhaps most typical of this second form, the films of which have come to be known as “adult” westerns, a term bestowed gratuitously upon itself by television. it is true that such films have a more sober and realistic approach than those of autry and rogers, and undoubtedly adult audiences view them with more favor. however, juvenile audiences have been found to enjoy them as much. their “adult” label derives more from the fact that the films are being shown at night when youngsters are presumed to be in bed. “gunsmoke” has certainly retained the highest overall standard of this new brand of westerns. relying more on characterization and drama than on straightforward action, it has handled several near- psychological themes. its underplayed depiction of the u. s. marshal as a colorless official doing an unglamorous job, derives directly from “dragnet,” while the recurring elements of civic responsibility in the maintenance of law derive from high noon. unfortunately such elements, gripping and original in individual films, inevitably become stereotyped when they are merely part of a formula. the marshal's human weak- es ist strengenst verbolt sem idiota e bela lugosi (extreme right) as the indian hero uncas of the german-made the last of the mohicans. the end of world war ii. before the war, they were often strongly nationalistic, sometimes built around obscure, or alleged, incidents in german and related history, sometimes, too, having more than just a little propaganda content. such a film was luis trenker's kaiser of california, a well-made but somewhat biased account of sutter's spec- tacular rise and fall in california. at the same time, straightforward, non-propagandistic westerns were also being made, such as gold in new frisco, released in germany under that english title, an otto wernicke vehicle along the established lines of the spoilers. for all their careful staging and often brilliantly executed action, the german westerns lacked the sustained speed and simplicity of the american originals. development would be painstaking and plodding; the protagonists would spend far too much time discussing and contem- plating before they acted. the elaborate production mountings, and the vigor and size of the action, when it came, certainly compensated for the long waits, but what truly exciting westerns the germans could have turned out had they only concentrated more on the plot essentials and movement, and less on sheer weight and padding! two of the best german westerns starred hans albers, an enor- mously popular player who enjoyed the same sort of adulation as did clark gable over an exactly corresponding period. he appeared in pictures which also stressed virile romance and action, but he got away with something that gable could not: albers delighted in outrageous sexual double-entendre dialogue and uninhibited swearing, usually quite off-the-cuff, to the despair of his producers, timorous of puritan protests, and to the delight of his audiences. an interesting film with albers, sergeant berry ( ) discloses some of the strengths and weaknesses of the german westerns. it was a wildly hans albers in wasser für canitoga. verle extravagant adventure yarn with much of the flavor of such silent douglas fairbanks frolics as his majesty the american. obviously not meant to be taken seriously, at the same time it never descended to lampoon. largely a vehicle for albers, it cast him in a colorful fair- banksian role with six or seven obvious, but enjoyably theatrical dis- guises and masquerades. in it, albers went out west to round up the badmen. what followed the international western was a western of the old “shoot-em-up” school, complete even to the heroine's runaway buggy. apart from its vitality and good humor, much unexpected entertainment also resulted (to the non-german spectator) from the director's quite alarming enlargements and reshapings of stock western clichés. there were sombreros and gaily colored shirts from south of every border in the western hemisphere. all the mexicans were resolutely named don pedro, don josé, or don diego, regardless of the fact that the duplication of names among a large contingent of gauchos, bandidos, and rancheros resulted in no little confusion. and since it would be false to do otherwise, the mexicans, when excited, restricted their expletives to the time-honored “caramba!” the heroine's father, who had just cause to be excited, rated just about one “caramba!” to every three or four lines of dialogue. these considerations apart, sergeant berry was a commendable effort. the sets were unusually lavish and the action scenes well staged, while the desert scenery-cactus included-looked authentic. the film did tend, however, to play for laughs as much as for melodrama and lacked the speed of good american westerns. it also contained one very ger- man ingredient: a decided touch of heavy vulgarity which would have been quite out of place in an american western. this included some pointed sequences and “blue” dialogue involving albers and the enter- prising heroine, and an episode which featured albers running around nude (discreetly photographed from the rear!) after he had lost his clothes while swimming. the horsemen ( ), a fine russian film, beautifully photographed in color, with plenty of action, showed how carefully soviet film-makers have studied the american western and how readily, and efficiently, they can apply the technique of the western to an essentially russian theme, the resistance of the russian peasantry to the nazi occupation. in fact, the treatment smacked more of riders of death valley with stampedes (creatively photographed from a helicopter), chases and fights climaxed by an admirably staged, photographed, and edited overland chase after a locomotive. there is, of course, a difference between the outright imitation of the western (as in the german films), the utilization of western techniques (as in russia's the horsemen) and the influence of the western upon films that do not necessarily rely on western plot or technique. perhaps the most striking example of influence upon only casually re- lated subjects is provided by some of the postwar italian films, and most specifically by the work of director pietro germi. if germi's first picture, lost youth ( ), was inspired by american treatment of gang- e brazils savage, realistic Ô cangaceiro. ster and juvenile delinquency themes, then his second film, in the name of the law ( ), was unmistakably stamped with the mark of the western, although it was released in the united states under the title of mafia. critics of both countries have noted its close affinity to the western. dealing with the conflict between the superior law of the state and local law based on and provoking-murder and violence, the film's theme had obvious connections with the western theme of vigilante law. as the italian critic renzo renzi noted: in this picture germi borrows from the american formula a certain dramatic and narrative tranquillity, because it is a route which has already been tested ... the imitation (of the western) is furthered through details of action; the film begins with an ambush which reminds us of a stagecoach attack, and the backgrounds and landscape are alike. massimo girotti, alone against everyone (a hymn to the individual) finds his only true friend in a boy he meets in town. the boy's sub- sequent death serves as the emotional spring which convinces the hero that he should reconsider his decision to give up the fight. this is the resolving detail of the suspense element. this latter plot detail has, of course, always been one of the funda- mental motivating factors by which the western transforms its hero from a man of peace to a man of justified violence. for example, errol flynn, in dodge city, determinedly sets to work to clean up the town only after the death of a child, a death resulting directly from the hooli- ganism of the drunken heavies. renzi goes on to point out that the con- alict between massimo girotti and charles vanel in germi's film is resolved in much the same manner as that between john wayne and montgomery clift in red river, made a year earlier. in two other films, the road to hope ( ) and the outlaw of tacca del lupo ( ), germi continued to apply american, and specifically western, formulas, but in both of them the american models were not in every case appropriate to italian themes or, as in the case of the road to hope, a film very similar to the better-known brazilian can- gaçeiro ( ), to the purposes of the films themselves. the experience of germi in his enterprising, but unsuccessful, uti- lization of the western model in italian pictures is typical of similar experience by other italian directors. in germi's hands, the experiment came, however, nearest to a successful fruition. but the list of nations and films influenced by the american western is long. the japanese, indians, mexicans, brazilians, and many other peoples have all gone to the american western at one time or another for inspiration, and therefore it is fair to say that the western saga, historically as well as cinematically, has crossed the frontiers of nations, becoming truly international in its spirit. the international western the contemporary western earlier, and mgm's remake of cimarron was a complete failure, squan- dering its inherent epic qualities to a soap opera theme that infuriated edna ferber, author of the novel. the assembly-line look of many of the so-called super-westerns made since may be attributed to a number of factors. for one thing, the disappearance of the “b” western allowed plot clichés to creep back in, on some producers' theory that with fewer westerns around, those that remained did not all have to aim diligently at originality. thus the clichés persisted, although their presentation was better. the plot of duel in the sun spawned a number of outright imitations, such as the halliday brand, the violent men, and untamed frontier. ford's fort apache was imitated in two flags west and other pictures showing martinet officers obsessed with hatred for the indian. ford's fine film, the searchers, which dealt with the rescue of a white woman kidnapped and sexually possessed by indians, was imitated in trooper hook, and by ford him- self, in two rode together. another contribring factor to the distressing uniformity of many of the bigger westerns was the fact that westerns, always reasonably safe commercial propositions, became vehicles for name stars, who were either slipping or working out the last few pictures of long-term contracts. robert taylor, clark gable, stewart granger, gary cooper, james cagney, and gregory peck, at various periods in the fifties, were shunted into large-scale but generally undistinguished motion pictures on the assumption that a top name plus a western theme would guarantee box-office success. gable's westerns, lone star and across the wide missouri, showed the production care and script values that a star of his caliber warranted, but many of the others were less notable, and some, like peck’s the bravados, were without any redeeming factors whatsoever. no new directorial talent of note emerged in the period, and most of the established western directors either declined or at best held their own. john ford, switching to more sustained concentration on westerns after the success of fort apache, gradually lost vitality; but even the more conventional of his works that followed had enough of the old visual beauty and dramatic power to succeed while westerns made by other directors failed both as films and as commercial ventures. in the horse soldiers, a civil war epic, ford took a known historical incident and fashioned a lively adventure around it. sergeant rutledge, less sat- isfying due to a preponderance of studio sets, was rather shrewdly conceived so that it could be sold on the basis of "sex and sensation” rather than on its western values. it offered a negro militia sergeant as chief protagonist, and displayed refreshing honesty at least in its discus- a typically heroic ford image, from the horse soldiers ( ). sion of racial problems. two rode together, on the other hand, was a casually directed western, generally lacking in dramatic values or real action but it was interesting for its psychological studies, such as the superbly acted and directed scene in which mae marsh, a white prisioner of the indian for years, explains why she does not wish to live again among whites. just as no new directors of stature emerged, no new western stars were developed either. audie murphy, in his series at universal, devel- oped into a far better actor than his earlier films had promised. drums across the river was an expertly made action picture; no name on the bul- let succeeded instead on exceptionally strong story value, while still others, the badman "hero" and the teen-age delinquent find a convenient mating in the figure of billy the kid. audie murphy with albert dekker in the kid from texas ( ). the wide screen was used really creatively in only a few westerns. the charge at feather river and white feather had exciting panoramic vistas. the rambling discussions of at gunpoint, a film almost totally devoid of action, seemed absurdly overblown on the giant screen, while the atmosphere of impending doom was hard to accept amid so much cheerful color. wichita, one of the simplest and best old-school westerns made in the fifties, would certainly have been more impressive had not everything looked so “big” and “epic” on the cinemascope screen. the contemporary western soft politics politically there was a softening in westerns throughout the fifties. the anti-russian propaganda, which had figured so heavily for a while in “b” westerns, and even in such larger films as the world in his arms, disappeared, probably because its limited possibilities had already been exhausted. and as long as there was no "hot war,” audiences for west- erns could not really concern themselves with the soviet menace on the frontier. the anti-soviet “message” was instead diverted to espionage thrillers and science-fiction films. the characterization of a nazi-stereo- type leader, such as widmark's wagon boss in the last wagon, also dis- appeared. the mickey spillane or “tyrant" hero of gregory peck in the bravados, a man without responsibility to others, recognizing no law other than his own, performing heroically, usually for his own personal satisfaction, has become a recurring figure, but fortunately not a dom- inate one. in other ways, the western has been careful not to stick its political neck out. this is especially true in domestic politics, hollywood paying particular attention to the south's delicate feelings. in civil war films, and westerns built around the subject, the south has emerged more sympathetically than ever before. a film like seven angry men, a com- mendable attempt to make an off-beat historical western, had to falsify and simplify certain aspects of the material in order to present abolitionist john brown as a “nuisance” to both north and south, and really a man of no great importance! teen-age and adult markets this pandering to audiences became noticeable in another, this time non-political way. because of the increasing importance of the teen-age market in dramas, comedies, and musicals, there have been rather labored attempts to introduce juvenile delinquency into the western, index abbott, bud, , abilene town, ace of clubs, the, ace of the saddle, acord, art, , , across the great divide, across the wide missouri, , adams, ernie, adams, ted, adventures of captain bonneville, u.s.a., the, adventures of dollie, the, adventures of robin hood, the, aitken, harry, , aitken, roy, aladdin and his lamp, alamán, lucas, alamo, the, albers, hans, - aldrich, robert, allen, bob, , allen, rex, , along came jones, amateur cracksman, the, ambush, america, american aristocracy, americano, the, anderson, “broncho billy," - , , , , , , , , , andrews, dana, , annie get your gun, “annie laurie,” “annie oakley,” another man's boots, , ansara, michael, apache, apfel, oscar, applause, arbuckle, roscoe “fatty,” aristarco, guido, arizona, , - arizona ames, arizona bound, arizona cyclone, arizonian, the, , arlen, richard, army girl, arness, james, arnold, edward, arnold, elliott, arrow in the dust, arthur, jean, aryan, the, , astor, mary, astoria, at gunpoint, , - , , atonement of gosta berling, august, joseph, , , autry, gene, - , , , - , , , , , - , , , , - , , , , , , – , avenging trail, the, avenging waters, ayres, lew, the western barnes, george, barricade, barrie, james, barrier, the, barry, donald, barrymore, john, barrymore, lionel, , , barton, buzz, , bascom, "texas rose,” bass, sam, , battle at elderbush gulch, the, battle of apache pass, the, battle of gettysburg, the, baxter, anne, baxter, warner, bazin, andré, , , bean, judge roy, , beaudine, william, beauty and the bandit, beebe, ford, beery, noah, , , beery, noah, jr., beery, wallace, , , , , , beggars of life, bell, rex, , , , , bellah, james warner, bellamy, madge, ben hur, , , , , , , bend of the river, bennet, spencer gordon, , , bennett, constance, bennett, joan, benny, jack, , bernard, dorothy, best bad man, the, best of the badmen, beutel, jack, bickford, charles, big country, the, , big parade, the, big show, the, big sky, the, , big sombrero, the, big trail, the, , , - , , , bill, pawnee, jr., billy the kid, , billy the kid, , , , , , , , , birth of a nation, the, , bitter creek, back to the primitive, bad bascomb, , bad day at black rock, badger, clarence, badman of brimstone, the, badman of wyoming, the, badman's gold, badmen of missouri, , badmen's territory, baker, bob, , ballew, smith, , , bancroft, george, , bandemann, daniel e., bandit and the preacher, the, bandit's baby, the, bannon, jim, – bar rides again, the, bara, theda, barbed wire, bare fists, bare west, the, bargain, the, bari, lynn, barker, reginald, , bitzer, g. w. “billy,” black bart (the po- ), , blackboard jungle, the, blazing the overland trail, blind husbands, blystone, jack, blue, monte, blue blazes, blue blazes rawden, bogart, humphrey, , boggs, francis, bold bank robbery, the, bond, ward, boots and saddles, - , border brigands, border cavalier, the, border g-man, , border legion, the, borgnine, ernest, bom to the west, boss of hangtown mesa, the, boule de suif, bow, clara, , boy rider, the, boyd, bill, boyd, william, , , , , , , brabin, charles, bradbury, robert n., , bradford, lane, brand, max, branded men, branding broadway, - brando, marlon, , bravados, the, , , “brave eagle,” braveheart, breed of men, brennan, walter, , , brenon, herbert, brent, george, bretherton, howard, bride of tabaiva, the, broken arrow, - , , , , - “broken arrow,” (tv), broken lance, broken ways, bromfield, john, broncho billy and the baby, broncho buster, bronson, betty, , brooks, louise, brooks, richard, brower, otto, , brown, harry joe, brown, john, , brown, johnny mack, , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , brown, karl, buccaneer, the, buchanan, edgar, buck benny rides again, , bucking broadway, buckskin frontier, buffalo bill, bugle call, the, bull, charles, bulldog courage, bullet (horse), buñuel, luis, burgess, dorothy, burke, billie, burnette, smiley, - , burns, bob, bushman, francis x., , bushman, francis x., jr., buttram, pat, index cabanne, christy, cagney, james, , , cahiers du cinema, cahn, edward l., , , calamity jane, calamity jane and sam bass, calhern, louis, calhoun, rory, california, , - california frontier, call of the prairie, calleia, joseph, callenbach, ernest, , , cameo kirby, cameron, rod, , , campbell, colin, canadian pacific, cansino, rita (hayworth), gulliver, dorothy, gun crazy, gunfight at the o.k. corral, gun fighter, the, gunfighter, the, , , - , gun fire, , , gunga din, , gunman from bodie, the, "gunsmoke," guthrie, a. b., , h the western haeckle, a. w., hale, alan, , hale, monte, , , half-breed, the, hall, jon, hall, porter, hall, william, hallelujah, halliday brand, the, hamilton, gilbert, hamilton, neil, , hammett, dashiel, , hanging at jefferson city, the, , hangman, the, hanks, deaf charlie, hanson, lars, hardy, oliver, harlan, russell, harron, john, harrison's reports, , , , , , harron, robert, , , hart, john, hart, mary, , , hart, neal, , hart, william s., jr., , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , harte, bret, , harvey, don, hathaway, henry, - , , , , hatton, raymond, , , , , “have gun, will travel,” hawk, fred, hawk of powder river, hawks, howard, , , , haycox, ernest, , , hayden, russell, , - hayden, sterling, , , hayes, george, hayworth, rita, hazards of helen, the, headin' south, heading east, headrick, richard, hearst, william randolph, heart of a lion, heart of an indian, the, – , , heart of texas ryan, the, heart of the north, heart of the rockies, heart of the west, , helen of troy, hellman, sam, hell's heroes, , , , hell's hinges, - , , , , henabery, joseph, henderson, dell, , henry, o., , , henry, william, herman, ai, hero of the big snows, a, heroes of the alamo, heroes of the range, heroes of the saddle, hersholt, jean, heston, charlton, , hickok, wild bill, , , - , , , , high hand, the, high noon, , , , , , , , , - , , , , hill billy, hillyer, lambert, , , , , , , , his bitter pill, his majesty the american, his picture in the papers, - hitchin' posts, hold-up of the rocky mountain express, the, holliday, doc, hollingsworth, alfred, , in the badlands, in the days of the thundering herd, in the name of the law, , ince, ralph, ince, thomas, , , , , , – , , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , indian wife's devotion, an, indians are coming, the, - indian's gratitude, an, ingraham, lloyd, , ingram, jack, iron horse, the, , , , , – , , , , – , , iron strain, the, irving, washington, isley, phyllis, ivanhoe, index hollywood cowboy, hollywood roundup, hollywood thrillmakers, holt, jack, , , , , holt, tim, , , , hondo, , “hopalong cassidy,” (tv), hopalong cassidy, hope, bob, hopper, de wolf, hoppy serves a writ, hopton, russell, horan, james d., horse soldiers, the, horsemen, the, houck, joy, hough, emerson, , house of frankenstein, house of strangers, houston, george, houston, sam, how the west was won, howard, david, howard, william k., , - , howe, james wong, howes, reed, hoxie, ai, hoxie, jack, , – , , hughes, howard, , hughes, rupert, humes, fred, hunchback of notre dame, the, hunted gold, hunter, jeffrey, , hurricane express, the, hurst, paul, huston, john, , , huston, walter, , , - huxley, aldous, jaccard, jacques, jack and the beanstalk, jack mccall, desperado, jack slade, - jackman, fred, jackson, marion, jacobs, lewis, jacque, christian, jagger, dean, james, alan, james, jesse, , janice meredith, , jennings, ai, jesse james, , , , - , , , jesse james' women, jewel robbery, “jim bowie,” john petticoats, , , johnny concho, , johnny guitar, jolley, stanford, jones, buck, , , - , , , , , , – , , , , , , , , , jones, dick, jones, jennifer, , , jubal, i killed geronimo, iconoclast, the, in early arizona, in old arizona, , , in old oklahoma, in old santa fe, index wallace, edgar, walsh, raoul, , , , , walthall, henry b., , , , wanderer, the, wanderer of the wasteland, war on the plains, war paint, ward, mabel hubbel, warning shadows, warren, james, washburn, bryant, washington, george, washington merry-go-round, waters, john d., watt, harry, way out west, wayne, john, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , webb, harry, webber, charles w., weiss brothers, the, wellman, william, , , , , - , , wells, governor (utah), wells, ted, wells fargo, , , , werker, alfred, , west, charles, , west, raymond, west of carson city, west of the pecos, westbound stage, western gold, western journal, western union, , westerner, the, , westerners, the, westover, winifred, westward bound, whale, james, when a man rides alone, when a man sees red, when a man's a man, , when rangers step in, when the daltons rode, , where the north begins, - , whispering smith, whistle, the, whistling bullets, whistling dan, white, lee “lasses,” white, pearl, white, william allen, white eagle, , white feather, , white gold, - white gorilla, the, white outlaw, the, white shadows in the south seas, whittaker, herman, why the mail was late, why the sheriff is a bachelor, wichita, , , widmark, richard, , , , wild bill hickok, , , wild blood, wild girl of the sierras, the, wild horse stampede, wild justice, wild west days, wild women, willat, irvin, william, warren, williams, bill, williams, clara, , williams, elmo, , williams, guinn “big boy," , , , williams, kathlyn, , wilson, ben, wilson, harry l., wilson, lois, , , wilson, whip, , , wilson, woodrow, winchester , wind, the, winds in the wastelands, wings of eagles, the, winners of the west, winners of the wilderness, wise, robert, wister, owen, with buffalo bill on the u. p. trail, with custer at the little big horn, with sitting bull at the spirit lake massacre, , – withers, grant, , witney, william, wizard of the saddle, wolf and his mate, the, wolf lowry, wolf's trail, wolves of the rail, woman, the, , woman of the town, the, world in his arms, the, , wright, harold bell, , wright, teresa, wyatt earp, “wyatt earp” (tv), wyatt earp, frontier marshall, wyler, william, , , , , , , , yearling, the, yellow sky, , yellow tomahawk, the, yermak, yodellin' kid from pine ridge, the, york, burly duke, young, brigham, young, robert, , young bill hickok, young guns, the, the western “zane grey theatre,” zero de conduite, zinnemann, fred, , , zukor, adolph, , xydias, anthony j., , ny z